A Very Merry Christmas to all! May you find yourself under the mistletoe with someone worth kissing!

How far would you go?

Sorry, I've been handed a new assignment. No nicknames this week. But I'd like to pose a question. Hypothetically, of course, how far would you go to escape your life? Would you beg, borrow, and steal to try for a better life for yourself? This new case, hypothetically, has brought a lot of questions in my mind. Would you put your trust in a stranger to get you across the border? Would you sell your possessions? What about your body? I find myself looking down on people in poor situations because I think that they could make a better life for themselves if they tried. Maybe I think that because I know that I would do whatever it took to get what I wanted. Then I think...how far would I go. Would I sell by body for some money? Would I steal for food? Maybe. Then the cop in me kicks in. And I think how wrong it is. But what if ...? So I ask you, how far would you go?

tagged then bagged

I've apparently been tagged by overseas mammalian fishnchimps. It's some form of blogger chain mail. I'm supposed to state/confess five unknown facts about myself and "tag" five others. Well, here are the things I can share without having to A-go to jail, B-live my life in exile, or C-refer to A and B.

1. I played high school football, on the boy's team.
2. I have made love to a woman
3. I like to do things in odd numbers...walk steps, take sips of water, click my pen, buy things, etc.
4. I had sex so hard/rough that I gave my partner at the time a black eye . He never admitted how he got it the next day at work.
5. I have been loved by few, lusted by many, and fucked by everybody at one time or another


I don't think you guys have been tagged yet. Sooo, my five tags are:

NewYorkPunk--whoever you are
MoreBetterLies --John
Copyranter --"Mark"
Slinky --Mr. Redfoot
Maulleigh--motorcycle mistress

person of the year

I'd like to take a moment to pat myself on the back. You might not realize it, but you are reading the post of Time magazine's "Person of the Year". That's right. Me. No, wait, YOU too! You are also Time's "Person of the Year". Apparently someone in the top slot was feeling indecisive this year, so they decided to skip the vote and make everyone famous. Congratulations everyone. We (me, myself, and I) couldn't have done it without you.

nickname of the week...

Has it been a week already? This week's bad-ass gangbanger award was a toss up. I was going to give it to "Squirrel", but alas, this week's winner is "Chubby". Yes, you. Whose nickname has probably caused more than one fatal drive by. The next burger's on me. Idiot.

nickname of the week...

This week's gang-banger idiot award goes to "Smurf-G". You big, bad, blue boy. Step up to the mic to thank your homies for naming you after little blue elf-like creatures.

one of those days

I got dressed in the dark today, if you know what I mean. I have slush on my boots. My husband was watching his cult leader on TV this morning with my son...again. I'm pretty sure I put the dollar in the wrong parking slot at the train station. I was also (just seconds ago) told there is a pot-luck...today. I wanted to hide in my little cubicle, but now (kicking and screaming) I'm going to have to see everyone in the office...wearing something stupid. I would say, just shoot me, but why have someone else do it when I carry one? No, I'm not serious, so don't comment with help line numbers.

making my day

I just wanted to share how a complete stranger made my day...possibly my week. It seems that a bunch of you readers are men, but I'm going to tell you anyway. I was getting my morning dose of caffeine via Starbucks (iced venti black tea unsweetened with a splash of lemonade plus two sweet-n-lows...yes it is 9 degrees in Chicago) and headed for the door. A fairly handsome man was coming in, looked at me, and held the door open. I was still quite a few feet from the door so I hurried up, thankful for the chivalry, oblivious to his stare (until later when I analyzed the encounter mercilessly). He smiled and told me "take your time" . It wasn't necessarily what he said, but HOW he said it. It was somehow a compliment. Women understand this. I felt...special. It's been a while since I've had a true compliment without someone trying to get in my pants. From something as innocuous as a handsome man holding the door for me. Okay, maybe I need to get laid, but men, do some woman a favor. Consider this your good holiday deed of the day. Go hold the door open, pick up a dropped glove, or whatever. But don't be sleazy about it. Don't start a conversation, because that ruins it (we think it's a come-on and the gesture loses all meaning). Just give a subtle compliment and keep walking. Trust me. That woman will be thinking about you the rest of the day.

a week in passing

I spent the past week at TARA(Terrorism Awareness and Response Academy) course for work. They instilled in us the importance of being aware of our surroundings, the horrendous things terrorists do, psych aspects of extremists, chemicals to make bombs (which you can do at home), how to handle a pre/post blast situation, how not to stand down-wind (duh), and how not to fuck up so that thousands of people die. By that way, these people are not afraid to die, in fact welcome dying for their jihad, and oh, will happily take you with them, so do not approach them. Also, you will be issued a gas mask which will be pointless in a chemical/radiological attack because without a chem suit, you will still burn, you'll just be able to breathe while dying painfully. Then they sent us off with a pat on the head and told us the most important thing when you go to work is to go home to your family at night. So basically, I should be hiding in a bomb shelter every day. Sorry, all you civilians, you're fucked.

Happy Thanksgiving!

nickname of the week...

This week's gang banger nickname of the week belongs to "Nutso". Real manly. Not "Psycho", "N-Sayne", or something cool. Just "Nutso". Now that's just crazy

cancer sticks

I hate smoke. I hate the smell. I hate the taste. I hate that I can't walk out for a breath of exhaust/polluted "fresh" air without weaving through the labyrinth of smokers clogging the sidewalk at lunch. I don't care if you smoke. But I don't want to smoke too. Unfortunately, those wisps of greyish tendrils smack me in the face all the fucking time. We should take all the smokers and put them in a jar, and let them choke to within an inch of their lives so they can feel what I feel every time I walk into a bar. Or, fuck, every day I go to lunch and have to hold my breath while I run across the street for my ceasar fucking salad!
Ok. I'm done.

Hey, anonymous!

Anon postings drive me crazy. At least make up a name for yourself. Do you not want people to know that you read my site? Someone might recognize you from a blog that I have commented on, so when they check out my sites, they'll know you were here? I allow anon postings, but come on. It's hard having a "conversation" when everyone's anon. How do I know which anon I'm talking to? So, for the record, I'd like everyone to come up with some name and stick to it so I can recognize who's posting. Or just stay anon. Whatever.

nickname of the week...

So all I do all day is deal with gang intelligence. Which includes the most moronic nicknames and made up aliases you could imagine. Don't get me started on the tattoos! If I were a gang banger, I'd kill anyone that called me "cheeseburger" or "baby-shy". If you're going to be a bad ass, you better have the name to match! Or be smart and don't label yourself "sniper" because you're probably going to be questioned first in the case of a shooting. As I'm sitting here paging through piles upon piles of data, I thought I'd share just the nicknames of some of the more memorable bangers. Since I don't work tomorrow, I'm starting Friday early. The nickname of this week is "PORKCHOP"...belonging to 5'5, 320 lbs male. How fitting.

Are we done with all the election hoopla now? Can we go on with our lives?

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

So, I feel like shit, and I decide to finally go to the doctor because I know I need antibiotics. I get tonsilitis almost every year. It feels like a golf ball lodged itself in my throat. It sucks. I can't swollow, and that's not good for everyone! Anyway, the doctor checks me out and says it's probably viral, so she can't give me antibiotics because they won't work unless its bacterial. Then, she says, wow, your tonsils are really swollen. (duh) So I tell her I get tonsilitis quite a bit. Then she asks me how it's usually treated.

What is wrong with this picture? Shouldn't she know how it's treated? With antibiotics! So then she tells me if I don't feel better, to call her in the morning and she'll call in a Rx to the pharmacy for me...for antibiotics. WTF?!
Guess what I did first thing this morning?

for whatever you want to say...