How To Fix Our Terrorist Problem

My mom has a theory. She thinks that if all the terrorist haters on the planet wished bad karma upon all the terrorists on the plant at the same exact time, all the terrorists would drop dead in an instant. It would be cheap and quick and effective.

Um, yeah mom. Suuuuure.

But just in case, I’m going to start circulating an e-mail like all those candlelight vigil ones that are going around. Okay, at 9 PM Eastern time on Friday, picture a terrorist and try to make his head blow up with your brain waves. And for those of you across the country, that’s 8 PM Central, 7 PM Mountain, and 6 PM Pacific. Spy satellites will be focused on Osama Bin Laden’s head to see if it explodes and a picture of the head explosion will be published all in major newspapers if it happens.

Ready? Set! Ommmmm…

Quote of the Day

I want a 2-door car but the doors are too heavy. They’re smaller on sedans so I can open them more easily.

Someone actually said this to me last night. This person needs to go to the gym and start lifting. Oh, heck, lifting Campbell Soup cans would probably be a workout for them. And then when they get stronger they can move on to Chunky. Bigger cans and more soup to feed those growing muscles.

Help! I parked on a hill and can’t open my coupe door!

Phone Call with Dad

10:02:36 PM EDT


I should learn not to tell my parents my business trip schedule. When I do they just call me every day to tell me to be careful. Every single farking day! Makes me feel like a 10-year old. I know they mean well, but darn it I can make my way around the country without someone checking on me all the time! Aurgh!


So I just told my dad that their calling me every night when I’m on a business trip makes me feel like a baby. And then he sounded hurt and said, “Okay, I won’t call you on business trips anymore.” Aurgh.


I feel like a crappy stoopidhead.

Rude Awakening

Note to self: Do not answer weekend morning calls from mom.

My mom has a new theory. She thinks I’m never going to be able to cohabitate with anyone. Never mind that I’m living with a roommate now. She thinks that because I’ve been living “alone” (i.e. not with the family) for so long I’ll never be able to handle living with my future husband, whom I should be looking for now (but that’s another story). She also thinks I’m spoiled as all hell. Something about how I’ll never compromise to accomodate anyone else but they all have to compromise to accomodate me. I don’t know where the hell she gets such theories in her head. I mean, how much FUCKING (shout that) time has she spent with me in the last 7 years? Not a whole darned lot, considering I’m all the way over on the other side of the country.

Aurgh! FARK! Fark, goddammit! Please keep your farking theories on how I should live my life to yourself! Dogfarkingdarnit!

I think I’m going to go climb a wall.