Saturday, September 21, 2013

Things that make you go poop.

I was by the crib, sittin' by the little one,
Drinkin' leche on the puke stained rug.
 I got a familiar gurgle, what the fuck is that feeling?
Thought to myself then started to shrug.
Got to the shitter. Ding Dong. What is it?
My milk ran its course and diarrhea had paid me a visit.
Rumbly in my tumbly, I look at the wall,
I knew that I was completely fucked. Completely dropped the ball.
I'd run out of TP, shit, I couldn't even move,
I know my proctologist just wouldn't approve.
I didn't realize, my sphincter just wouldn't squeeze!
Yo, my butthole control just left me! No!
Yeah, but I lost control I just couldn't wait.
I yelled TP, baby, baby, TP, baby, baby, GREAT!
My Hub bust in, caught a whiff of that room,
He said, "Milk, again?"

Things that make you go poop.
Things that make you go poop.
Things that make you go poop.
Things that make you go poop, poop, poop.
Things that make you go poop.

Here's how it started, just an example,
Of how your intestines can trample,
Ruin your life, stab you in the gut with a knife.
Watch your behind!
There was a day I was feelin' kinda grey.
Would drink some coffee, to keep the Zzz's at bay.
I'd been up all night. I thought I was alright.
Had some caffeine...but my belly started gettin' tight.
So damned acidic,  my ass started doin' the rhumba.
Clenching my buttcheeks, my eyes go,t big,
My butthole wasn't going to make it to its next gig.
I'd had my coffee, now it was time to pay the piper,
All over the floor, I should just wear a diaper.
The time had come (to kick that coffee scene),
But I can't commit to tea in a way the Zzz's would believe.
So my bill came due in that bathroom.

The things that make you go poop.
Things that make you go poop.
The things that make you go poop, poop, poop.
The things that make you go poop.
Things that make you go poop.
The things that make you go poop.

 Jaysus Keeerist, Hub - gimme dat TP!

Give it to me, Give it to me, Give it to me, Give it to me! (x7)
Give it to me, Give it to me!

Thirty-four, and I was havin' a ball.
Just had another kid and, yo, I knew it all.
I was making mac and cheese, like every other time,
So much Tillamook, it would blow your mind!
It was delicious, it was in its own class.
I went back for seconds so fast I got whiplash.
I ate all that cheddar and pasta...then my heart beat stopped.
All that dairy and gluten filled me to the top.
Time went by and I filled my pants and the toilet.
 I couldn't get the stains out, my Mom says to boil it.
My boy kept tellin' me, "Yo, Momma, I don't know,
I think that mac and cheese is making you go."
I love pasta and pasta loves me, it's pathetic.
Why can't my ass understand?  Why can't it be sympathetic?
But no, it's gotta fill my plumbing with that special beat,
Its gotta bitch and moan, "Gonna stop eatin' that wheat?"

Things that make you go poop.
Things that make you go poop.
It's the things that make you go poop.

(Repeat Chorus)

Hey ladies,
Have you ever had a beer?
Lookin' so sexy at the bar, but then you feel queer?
You're tryin' to be nonchalant, but it just don't work.
You realize the beer's hit you hard and you jump up with a jerk.
 Tellin' your date you don't have time to eat,
And you're not even hungry, you just want to RETREAT.
To the bathroom, your insides gots the hurts.
The poo's coming out in radical spurts.
A mysterious miasma of odorous ick,
Drifts out the door, when you realize the lock didn't go "click".
The door's hangin' open, full view of the bar,
You're so embarrassed, would've rather just shit in the car.
 You were dressed to a T to hang with the fellas,
 But now those other hoochie mommas ain't so jealous.
Comin' home early smellin' like that special perfume...

(Repeat Chorus x7)

Things that make you go poop.
NOTE: To those of you (like my Hub) who evidently don't remember this tune from C&C Music Factory:

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Uncommon Courtesy

What the fuck is wrong with people today?!

Really that could be my whole post...

But seriously, Common Courtesy is a total misnomer.  It is unbelievably Uncommon. 

A ridiculous number of people go around treating employees of every business in the universe as their own personal servants.  And not like the servants of Oprah (who I'm sure gives each of her servants a Porche as a bonus), but rather like the servants of Kim, Jong Un (who I'm sure gives each of his servants a narcotic-free root canal as a bonus).  I'm sorry, when did being a customer "server" equate to being a customer "servant"?  Is your name Emperor Fucktwat King of the God Damn Universe?  If not, then maybe you can speak to me like a fucking human being and not like a bug under your shoe.  Maybe you can say "please" as a human being requesting assistance from another human being and not as an afterthought as you answer your ass bumping ring tone and lift one of your beautifully manicured fingers...{finger} just a minute............please.  Let me give YOU a fucking finger, you fucking farce of a human.

Let me just say that how a person treats customer servers, typically entry level employees, is a good indicator of what sort of asshole they are in the rest of their compacted-colon life.  Let me reiterate that if you go to a restaurant and treat your server like shit, she/he may actually be in that gig to pay for college and WILL remember you when you are applying to her/him for a loan/part in a play/pro bono work/tutoring for your kid/plumbing your clogged toilet on a holiday weekend/etcetera/etcetera/etcetera.  Burning bridges is for stupid fucks in their teens and twenties.  When I see a total prick easily in their forties/sixties/whatever, there's an asshole that just likes being an asshole and has gotten away with it for way too long.  You make people feel like shit all the time, it makes you feel good about yourself.  But deep down inside you know you're a huge POS and aren't worth being pitied.  Talk about a bug under my shoe.

The area that I reside is right near the US/Canada border.  When the dollar was rad, northbound traffic was killer, deals an hour away were worth the drive, and it was pre-911 so when we returned, 19 years old and drunk as a skunk after Ladies Night, at Chicas in White Rock (bouncing penises, oh, yeah), we had our own Border Guy that would just wave us through without even looking at our ID's...that was really nice.  But now that the dollar sucks ass, we're experiencing the whole Turnabout Being Fair Play thing.  Not as nice.  As with all human beings, some are really talented at making another human feel like dog shit ground into a pair of deeply treaded Sorel's...  Bluuuugggggg.  You got to get it out.  You know it's gonna suck and stink of shit.  But it's got to be dealt with.

I don't believe that because I live near Canada that I, and my PNW compadres, have cornered the market on being Much Abused By International Visitors That Can't Drive For Shit And Buy Too Much Fucking Milk...  But those of use on the Canadian border have an unusually detailed knowledge of how the Canadian Government's control of the dairy industry is a real money maker for those willing to Nexus their way across a 1 hour border wait on a daily basis.  Jesus, our west coast franchises of Trader Joe's have 86'd a dude REselling their shit in Canada under the name of Pirate Joe's (OMFG it still makes me laugh).  I mean, don't get me wrong, I am APPRECIATIVE of how our northern neighbors have kept our local economy afloat, milk not withstanding, but some God Damn courtesy would be appreciated in our local grocery stores...

Now, Hub likes to really pick on the Canadians for being awful drivers, buying all the milk, and being, in general, big ass fucktards...  To which I usually remind him that a huge number of our cousins (his by marriage) are Canadian...which usually leads to a quick subject change. :)  I love my family in British Columbia.  They are giving, generous, full of laughter, loving, gracious, and all that wonderful mushy crap.  Seriously, they are wonderful people.  But I wouldn't doubt that many of them go to the Costco that is 30 minutes south of my town when they come in this area...hmm.  I wonder why. ;)

I enjoy the infusion of racial diversity in our town these days though.  It's nice to see a real white bread area get blended the fuck up by some colorful peeps.  I AM equally curious about two international things though: WHAT is under those turbans, and is the androgynous thing currently HIP in Japan or is it a cultural thing like Samurai now?  Also: why do Koreans keep opening up Japanese restaurants?  Or Thai?  Not that a Korean can't cook some fucking Thai food, I'm just sayin' that Korean food is fucking delish, yo.  Shit ton of Koreans in this town and not ONE SINGLE FUCKING Korean Fusion Taco sad.

Ok, I got distracted by Korean Fusion Taco Truck again.  It happens.  Sorry.  A fond desire that is as yet unfulfilled in this Podunk town of mine...

Back to  Courtesy.  You know that saying, "When in Rome do as the Romans do"...the continuation of that saying is..."Except when in the US, speak any language you want, get paid benefits while here illegally, get mad at me in your own language so I don't know what the fuck you're mad about, pretend you don't speak English so I want to pull my hair out (of my crotch), eat a fucking sandwich while giving me a pedicure and speaking to your coworker in whatever bumfuck language you think is still appropriate to speak in front of an evidently totally ignorant, stupid fuck who takes it without complaining.  Seriously.  If I'm paying you to care for my hands or feet and you are having a conversation in another language with a ARE about to cut me while trimming my cuticles...which has happened enough times that I no longer get manicures or pedicures...  And yes, the sandwich anecdote DID actually happen.  Although that was in SoCal, so is probably par for the course. 

I DO miss the crazy ass driving of SoCal, though.  No one is a shitty driver because if everyone is awful, everyone is just normal.  You have to be a REALLY fucked up driver to stand out in CA.  Typically the traffic would move at 90 mph, pausing and drifting down to the speed limit at each well known cop stop then quickly moving right back up to 90 again...or higher.  I loved that kind of driving.  Darting in and out of traffic was fun.  God, it really is amazing that I'm still alive.  Hub says that the first time he got in the car with me he was actually afraid for his life (fuck, even thinking about that makes me want to laugh like a psycho - it is SO funny!), although if you consider that I have really shitty depth perception, maybe he's just the smartest person to ever ride shotgun with me... :P

There's a really shitty road in my town that goes from two lanes of 35 mph regularly moving traffic to a bottleneck single lane just before the freeway on-ramp back to the glorious BC...  This is the nearest freeway entrance to/from Costco...the mall...the big grocery store...the new bigger grocery store...the Walmart...the Best Buy...  This is a seriously shitty freeway entrance.  It is ALSO the closest to my home.  The one I use to go to work.  To take my kids to the doctor.  To get to the ER.  Fuuuuuck. 

So I don't pull out into the intersection...ever.  I was taught to be embarrassed to be caught in the intersection when the light changes.  I feel like a specimen under a microscope when I'm caught out like that, RARELY, when I misjudge the distance (again, depth perception issues SUCK).  So when a wanker gets pissed that I'm not going out to the middle of the intersection pulls out around me in the RIGHT TURN ONLY lane and jumps out into the left turn intersection in front of me, effectively blocking ALL traffic so he could beat me by ONE car's length...that shit pisses me off.  I wanted to do serious bodily harm to that fuckface.  ...When I leave space open in front of me because there is an intersecting road with just a stop sign but no light that someone MIGHT want to turn off of or onto and then some asshat pulls in front of me like, "Oh!  Thank you SO much for holding that space open for moi!", that REALLY makes me want to use my First Degree Yellow Belt in Tae Kwon Do to kick some major ass.  You know what would make it less incensing?  If those assholes would at least acknowledge that I have now done them a favor.  When I slow down to let you merge.  When I wave you in to cut in front of me in a line that reaches back to Cougar territory.  When you're on a bicycle and I've had to crawl behind you at 5 mph in a 40 for 5 miles.  What would it take for you to give a fucking courtesy wave, prick?  Maybe you don't realize that I DON'T know who you are and DIDN'T plan ahead to do you this favor our of obligation because you are the SUPREME RULER OF ALL THINGS.  Be courteous, DickWad.

There's a lot of things to Be.  Courteous.  Kind.  Gracious.  Loving.  Charitable.  Friendly.  Welcoming.  Positive.  Effusive.    None of those are expensive.  None of those require a particular Nation Of Origin pedigree.  None of those require extra schooling.  None of those take a whole lot of extra effort.  So again, what the fuck is wrong with people?! 

In an effort to practice what I preach.  My next entry will be full of the warm fuzzies for which I love living my life. So I'll see y'all next week when I'm huggin' trees, dancing in the rain, handing out fucking daisies, and appreciating my many blessings.  I hope you'll join me in one week of not being a total douche bag.  Maybe we can have it added to our calendar: Not Being A Douche Bag Week.  Like Black History Appreciation month, but shorter...