And speaking of the walking dead...

.

Once again, I must apologize to my loyal (and obviously insane) readers for my recent lack of posts. What I've been doing in my absence is simply enjoying the outdoors before the last weeks of summer are gone. I HAD to get a little sun time - I was starting to look like a vampire.

And speaking of the walking dead, what the fuck is up with grown adults incessantly  talking about how they love to read the 'Twilight' series? Seriously, these books are meant for teenagers. I don’t care that you think adults can enjoy them too...they’re not for you. Sweet Imaginary Baby Jesus - just let it go.

Inevitably these stories-for-tweens-lovin' freaks corner you with the relentless and infuriating bloodsucker inquisition. I’ll usually try to politely break the news that 'Twilight' isn’t really my thing, and hopefully gently deflect the topic. Very rarely does the information that I haven’t read any of the books get a pass. Thus begins the conversation I've had a thousand times:

“Really, you haven't read 'Twilight'?! Oh, you should, they’re great.”
"Yeah, I've-"
"They're not just for kids! You should read one, you'll love it!"
“Nah… I don’t think I’d really enjo-“
“That’s what I thought and then I read just one, and now I’m hooked!”
“Great, but I’m still not –“
“Just read one, I promise you’ll get into it! You can borrow mine.”

Damn people, back up OFF my puss - are you getting paid for this? Is this a pyramid scheme? Wait, I get it…this is Scientology, right?

I swear these people are a hair cut and a robe away from crazy. I’m talking matching turquoise running suits crazy. 

Listen 'Twilight' people, I haven’t read the books. I will never read the books. Ever. Understand? Actually, you know what? I don’t think you DO understand me, so let me make it very clear…

I would rather swallow a roll of razor wire.

I would rather eat a used baby diaper.

I would rather forcibly shove a glass thermometer deep into my cervix and smash it with a hammer.

I would rather ride a unicycle with a machete for a seat.

I would rather sucker punch a gang member and try to run away wearing ski boots.

The day I read 'Twilight' is the day I get invited by Bill and Ted to travel back in time to cut Jesus’ umbilical chord with a lightsaber.

I would rather drink a gravel and Drano smoothie.

I would rather wipe my ass with fiberglass insulation.

The day I read 'Twilight' is the day Mr. T stops pitying fools.

I would rather have unprotected sex with a Taiwanese transsexual.

I would rather swim in a dumpster full of vomit.

The day I read 'Twilight' is the day I stick my tongue out at the Pope and knock his hat off.

I would rather siphon a septic tank.

The day I read 'Twilight' is the day I breakdance fight a sasquatch, and lose.

I would rather open mouth kiss a crocodile.

The day I read 'Twilight' is the day I have a three way with the Green Lantern and Skeletor on the back of a unicorn.

The day I read 'Twilight' is the day I pull a switch blade on E.T. over an argument concerning Brazil’s steadily growing agricultural market, and the impact on U.S. farming economy.

The day I read 'Twilight' is the day I have a harmonica jam with the FOX news anchors.

I would rather brush my teeth with shitpaste.

I'd rather be buried alive.

The day I read 'Twilight' is the day I give Papa Smurf a beej in the bathroom at Castle Greyskull.

'Twilight' fans, listen to me. And listen good, you vile buncha conformists... STOP trying to recruit me to your inner reading circle! I will NEVER read 'Twilight'. Ever. Truth be told, I would prefer to read a more creative work of fiction. Something that's REALLY 'out there', as opposed to yet another tired vampire saga. You know, something a bit more imaginative... like the bible.

You have all been named douchebag of the day for your poor reading list choices. On a scale of one to ten, fuck off.

Can I Get A Bar Of Soap And A Valium Please?

Hi Kids! Please forgive my lack of posts over the past couple of weeks. Long story short: I've been camping in the mountains. It sucked balls. Sweaty ones.

Once I hose off, I'll be back with the hideous details. (and some bug spray just in case I've been followed)

It was so romantic, I swooned.

Right off the bat, I'd like to announce the winner of Monday's Douchebag of The Day.

Here's how it went down:

I was at a fairly crowded pub yesterday, having a beer with a friend of mine. We were engaged in deep and philosophical conversation about religion and the meaning of life. Um... Okay, I lied. We were actually talking about lip gloss... so what? Even sarcastic and cynical girls like to look pretty. A well conditioned lip is very important, in fact it is practically a law in 48 states. Is it okay with all of you judgemental bastards if we move on now? Gee, thanks.

Anyway, out of the corner of my eye, I could see him approaching. I see him at this bar frequently. I almost talked to him once, but his attire alone told me he was "one of those". His pants were like a cheap hotel - no ballroom. They were so tight, I could make out his camelnose from a distance of thirty feet. Gross.

My plan was to make the ol' fake call to my imaginary boyfriend, but he got to me before I could retrieve my cell phone. Damn this huge purse! Damn it to the bowels of hell!

I was just about to say "I'm married. To a UFC fighter. A BIG one. Plus, I'm a lesbian. A crippled lesbian. In fact, I'm a married, crippled BLIND lesbian. Oh, and did I mention that I'm bipolar to boot? You wanna take me out?" but he beat me to the punch, and came out with this brilliant one liner:

"Have you always been this cute?" Ugh. Really? That's his big opening dazzler? I wanted to punch him in the neck. But before I could make a fist and wind up, he continued his charming introduction with another question;  "My face is leaving in 5 minutes. You wanna be on it?"

Say whaaaaaaattttt !?!?  This guy obviously has a death wish. I just sat there, speechless, debating about whether I should hurl my drink at his face, or donkey punch him in the balls. But before I knew it, I was talking. Aloud. Without knowing what I was about to say. Uh oh.

What I ended up saying was "Hell yeah big daddy! Lets go - I lovvvve to party!!! Wait. Do you have a condom? Eh, nevermind. I'm already 5 months pregnant anyway... Hey, can we grab some whiskey and a little bit of meth before we go? And I have to stop at my house because my "business manager" is supposed to come by to collect. Oh, by the way - you DO have cash on you, right?" Then I shut up and just looked at him.

He blinked a couple of times, then turned around and ran to the exit. Literally jogged... Hah! Take THAT, asshole. How'd it feel to be degraded? And I heard your friend, who was obviously embarrassed, say "You can WALK home. What the fuck! You ALWAYS gotta fuck with someone!"

So in recognition of his illustrious accomplishment, this pitiful caveman is awarded my raised middle finger, along with a two year supply of behind-the-back trashing of his character accompanied by snickering, pointing and snide remarks. It'll be impossible for him to live it down.

There's one more thing.  To honor his bravery in the face of danger (kimminentdanger, that is)  his name will be engraved on the well known and much talked about "Wall Of Scumbags None Of The Girls At Any Of The Bars and Clubs Will Ever Even THINK About Sleeping With, Even Out Of Pity or Desperation" . 

Congratulations fuckface; your parents must be so proud.


Ok - with that business out of the way, I want to announce that tomorrow's post is already in the works, and it features an actual transcript of one of the funniest conversations I've ever had via instant messaging. It DOES get a bit politically incorrect... some people may even call it insensitive and obnoxious. If you can't stand controversy, don't come around to read it.

I do have a disclaimer to protect myself from lawsuits, and will be posting it by morning.

Hey kid! Your Flying Michael J. Fox Impression Is Underwhelming At Best

Yeah. I saw it. Great. Amazing.

What?! Yes, I'm watching...Jeez. I said it was great.

No. You know what? No more. Come here. It's your fifth birthday, right?

What? Seventh. Really? You're seven?

Okay, okay. You're seven. That just makes this gift all the more important. Listen, I've decided to give you the gift of truth. In my years as your mommy's friend, I have shielded you from the truth on various occasions. There are things that most people never reveal to children. I've decided to pull no punches.

First of all, your swimming jumps are less than impressive. And by, "less than impressive," I mean that you look like a jackass. Please stop asking me to watch. Just fucking stop. I spent the last hour counting how many times you yelled, "Watch, watch!" Thirty-eight, my boy, which is just unacceptably ridiculous. Why do you feel that a dead sprint into the swimming pool requires my undivided attention? Jesus, I just want to get through one fucking page of this book! It's not like you are doing anything impressive - it's the same herky-jerky bullshit every time. Have you ever heard of going in head first? At this point, anything other than your flying Michael J. Fox impression would be a relief.

What would your reaction be if I endlessly called out for you to watch me run in an uncoordinated manner at the pool, pinching my nose closed and pumping my other fist like I was a drum major on crystal meth. Sticking your arm out as you awkwardly hurdle yourself into a swimming pool does not qualify as a "sweet dive." I know I said it was, but I was lying. No more.

It would be like me making you watch every single time I bit into a hamburger! Eating a hamburger actually has a higher difficulty level than your assaults on the deep end and my pride.

"Hey, watch! This one has hickory-smoked bacon on it. Watch, I'm going to open my mouth real wide, shove the burger in my mouth, and bite up and down for a few moments. Hey... watch, I'm going to do it again. And again. And again. And again."

You know what the worst part is? It's not the mind numbing void of creativity, skill, and shame. It's watching you prance and leap with an almost total lack of athletic talent.

Secondly, you aren't fooling anyone with that tee shirt. If anything it just accentuates the size and depth of your massive belly button. Every person here knows you are fat. All that giant, wrinkled Sponge Bob shirt clinging to your oversized torso is doing is letting them know you still watch that ridiculous kid's cartoon too. I know you're only seven years old, but you were too old for it a minute ago when I thought you were only five, too.

What do you think people say when they see you? "Wow, that kid has a really thick shirt on." Well, they don't. They say, "Look at the tits on that kid."  Listen, if you're going to continue to eat only fast food and fish sticks, you've gotta embrace being the fat kid. Develop an obnoxiously loud laugh, start making self-deprecating jokes, and be super friendly. You should be doing cannonballs and soaking the cute girl's towel. Look on the bright side, though... fat kids are harder to kidnap.

Now, here's twenty bucks. Fuck off and let me read my book.

Retarded Bag Boy, Fuck You

Okay, toots, I admire your whole endeavor here, but I can’t handle this shit any longer. The job description probably read something like, “Put things in bags,” and at first glance, I would have considered you mildly capable. I believe I am a rational person, but you have stretched me to the limit of my patience. You carry on blindly as you routinely perform CPR on various bags of Doritos and other potato chip products. You fucking annihilated all of my Pringles a few weeks ago and they don’t even come in traditional bags. Uncool, buddy. You handle my bread each week like it’s the first boob you ever touched. Speaking of that… why in the fuck do you keep hugging me? Do you think I can't feel you playing grab ass? How far does this have to go before I’m allowed to maliciously attack you? I have to be honest. Your awkward forward lean, combined with the proximity between your head and my foot, doesn’t make me want to kick you any less.

Okay, hold on. Let me count to ten. That was wrong. Sorry about that. I lost my cool. I know you’re trying your best. I should be more sympathetic. I guess what I want to say is that I’ll be taking over the bagging duties here. Let’s just say I have a very precise way that I want my groceries bagged. You can go away now. Here’s a bouncy ball. And something shiny.

Okay, you're not stopping. What is your fucking deal? 

Man, what are you doing? Close my box of Ritz. C’mon toots, I need those for a party. Holy fuck. Is this really happening? You would at least think that you would try to face the other direction or make a slight attempt to hide the fact that you are devouring my groceries in front of me. No, instead you just smile at me and dribble Ritz crumbs all over your boobs. It really compliments the apple sauce that is smothered across your chest. Did you get any of your lunch in your mouth? Alright, enough with my crackers already. Should I be delivering a left hook to your nose right now? How am I supposed to react in this fucking scenario?
Okay, are you done? Have you had enough crackers? You could close the box at least. Hold up, toots. Don’t put them in the bag upside down.

Wow, I'm heavily sweating and my teeth are beginning to grind violently across each other. If I give you some candy, will you let ME bag the groceries? Um... how 'bout some Skittles? Okay, yeah, um - you're not supposed to put those in... oh never mind.

Paper? What are you fucking talking about? After the shit you just pulled, all you can say is, “Paper?” You’re kidding, right? You seriously think I’m focused on thinking of what type of bag you should use to pack my half-eaten and fully crushed groceries?

You are raising some serious ethical questions right now. I have a feeling that today’s events will produce several future chapters in college ethics books. Would it be fair if I spun around in a circle thirty times and then attempted to rip your throat out? What if I wore a blindfold? I could tie one arm behind my back and hop on one foot. God, there has to be a way.

What? You like Nintendo? What in the hell are you talking about? I hate you.
Wait, don’t put that heavy chicken on top of the fucking eggs. Jesus Christ in heaven riding a brontosaurus backwards. Yes, I understand that chickens and eggs are categorized together, but you don’t ever put heavy shit on top of… forget it. I’m counting to ten again. You know, I should really just take over from here, champ.

You’re still going. Do you fucking speak English? Oh, wait… please don’t separate that banana from the bunch. Hey! Fucker! Holy shit! You just ate half of that banana with one bite. You didn’t even peel it. That’s terrible. Call the police. Someone call the police. Hurry up. I need to go out like a werewolf and get myself arrested before something horrible happens. Hey Goth-chick cashier girl, you can stop ringing this order up. Counting to ten isn't working too well anymore.
Wait! Hey pal, why are you awkwardly winding up with my box of Cookie Crisp? You’re going to throw it at me, aren’t you? Yes you are. It is really taking you a long time to accomplish this task. This would work a lot better if you tried to catch me off guard. Alright, it looks like you're about ready. Here we go.

Wow, my vision is literally turning red. I didn't know this really happens. Oops, I’m grabbing your Dragon Ball Z t-shirt with clenched fists. Shaking you intensely is slightly relieving my anger. Stop laughing. You are such a cocksucker. Just hold still and keep your nose right where it is. Forgive me for what I’m about to do.

Oh shit, ouch! Fucking pepper spray? My fucking eyes! You let this fucking kid carry pepper spray? Oh, great, it sounds like security is finally arriving.
These handcuffs are a really nice touch to this embarrassing situation. Yes, I understand my rights. As I am being pulled out of the store, I fight through the searing pain to get one last glance at the mentally challenged bagboy. Of course, his arm is halfway into my box of Cookie Crisp and he is hugging various concerned women that surround him. I bet this story is going to look fantastic in the newspaper tomorrow. Fuck you, retarded bag boy. Fuck you.

Even A Blind Guy Can See That This Design Is Stupid

So, I was pouring all the quarters from the bottom of my purse into my spring water jug-slash-piggy bank just like I do EVERY time I notice that my handbag is tipping the scales at around 15 pounds. But for some unknown reason (unknown because the only thing that would have made my mind go off in this direction at 4 in the morning would be if I was stoned on marijuana - you know, that stuff the kids smoke... they call it "The Pot", which I most certainly was NOT! - hi mom -  In fact, I don't even know what stoned MEANS...)
Um. where was I? Oh yeah... quarters. For some unknown reason, I could not get past my delirium induced notion that I was "Top Dawg State Quarter Design Critic Extraodinaire".  Here's my final analysis and official report. Bottom line: least appealing design goes HANDS-DOWN to Al-er-bamm-er.

Alabama dropped the ball with their quarter.... I mean, Hellen Keller! What the fuck, guys?

For some states, choosing a design was probably tough. States like California (Condor) and New York (Statue of Liberty, of course) have so much cool shit to choose from that it must have been hard to decide. For other one-trick pony states like Indiana (an Indy car) and Kentucky (a racehorse) it was probably a no-brainer. Even the most useless states like Iowa (lame-ass school house) and West Virginia (some stupid bridge) came up with something that at the very least didn´t make the state look any shittier than it did before. Then there’s Ala-fucking-bama!

The top minds from across the state got together and decided that the most fitting symbol to represent their state was none other than Helen Keller. Helen Motherfucking Keller. Nothing against her, but what does it say about your state when its most distinguished citizen’s greatest achievement was being forced to learn how to communicate with the outside world. Stupid rednecks! How did it come to this?

Alabama’s Governor: OK, listen up people. We need a symbol for our state Quarter that captures the essence of our citizens, history, and culture. So put down your moonshine & grits and get to it!

Top Aid: Uh, how about a blind, deaf mute?

Alabama’s Governor: Bingo! Now crank up the Skynyrd while I cook up some Meth for the NASCAR rally. Robert E. Lee was a great man. I’m so poor and illiterate.

As the cheap joke above demonstrates, Alabama, and the South in general, already has to contend with enough in the way of negative, mostly undeserving, stereotypes. Being compared to Helen Keller, with all her preexisting jokes (…so you can read her lips; …you’d be sad too if your name was ararhahrgahaghgraghagr), is just going to add to Alabama’s image problems. Not to mention the fact that she wouldn’t have been blind, deaf, or mute had she been born in good state, or at least one that wasn’t a scarlet fever-ridden hellhole. Is that something Alabama wants to publicize? What the fuck, guys?

A lot of people are going to say “Listen bitch, Helen Keller is a stirring symbol of overcoming adversity.” Granted, overcoming adversity is something Alabamans probably need to learn about, since they have to live in Alabama. But surely there were other stirring symbols of humanity that that could have been chosen. A quick trip to wikipedia.org’s list of famous Alabaman’s brings up lot’s of great candidates. If it’s inspiration you want, why not Jesse “Fuck Hitler” Owens? Why not Hank “Babe Ruth was a pussy” Aaron? Why not Rosa “I’ll sit where ever the fuck I want” Parks? Oh, wait. Alabama. Never mind.

In Birmingham they love the gov´ner...
And when it comes right down to it, what did the woman accomplish?

“Well, she learned to read Braille and write! Pretty impressive for a blind, deaf mute.”

Bullshit. Her movie isn’t called “the Miracle Worker” because she taught herself to read. Anne Sullivan, her teacher, was the miracle worker. If anybody should be on the fucking quarter it should be her. She taught a blind, deaf mute to read and write, for Christ’s sake! Nobody fawns like an idiot over the people J.C. miraculously cured. They give props to the J-man himself. So why does Helen Keller get to hog Anne Sullivan’s limelight? What a fucking sham!

“But what about all the books she wrote? That’s pretty impressive!”

Big fucking deal. The only way she could communicate with the outside world was by writing things down. It’s pretty easy to write a book when you have to scratch out a paragraph every time you want to pee. That’s like being impressed by a crackhead who’s good with a lighter. It’s what they do.

Now if she had written a graphic novel, even one that was kind of shitty, that would have been fucking impressive. But she didn’t. Maybe her story was inspiring to people in 1902, but in today’s world where exploding alligators are fighting with pythons and pop stars are having crack babies, that shit just IS NOT gonna cut it. By the way, what was your favorite book by Helen Keller?
Exactly.  Me either.

The only things that could have made this design seem like less of a really bad  decision would have been if Idaho's choice was the Aryan Nation compound, or Wyoming chose Matthew Shepherd’s death fence. Way to go Alabama. You’ve lowered the fucking bar yet again. 

Note: When you are done trashing this post, why not list some other shitty state quarters, or even Hellen Keller jokes? Hey - my blog is NO PLACE to be politically correct.  

I Couldn't Find A Baby To Shake... I think Jane Has Them Bound & Gagged In Her Basement

Jane unravels under pressure

*twitch* *twitch*........  My work here is done.

http://intentions.wordpress.com/2009/06/14/angry-bipolar-patient-posts-personal-attacks-about-my-hair/#respond

Sounds like SOMEBODY could use a Xanax! 

I'm so angry I could shake a baby

                   WARNING: HEARTLESS MOCKERY AHEAD! 

If you are a bleeding heart softie who feels sorry for the underdog even if the underdog is an aggressive beast with beady eyes and rabies, this is not the post for you, and you should turn on your heels and get the fuck out of here. If you choose to keep reading, that's fine too. Just know that my goal is to publicly discredit, humiliate and embarrass, so.... you've been warned. You big pussy, you.


A couple of days ago I had the shit luck of finding a video on YouTube entitled "Preventing Bipolar Mania Naturally". The title alone told me that this video would piss me off, but I'm always up for a challenge, so I began watching. I could not believe some of the things I saw and heard, but I was powerless to stop watching.

At about 8 minutes in, I heard a strange sound and realized that I had been punching myself in the face.

The author of the aforementioned video is a crazy person. Not crazy like "That's what she thinks? If she believes THAT she's crazy!" Nooooo... no no no.  She's a whole different kind of crazy. She's the "sneak into your room at night and watch you sleep while she smells your shirts and cuts the eyes out of all your teddy bears" kind of crazy.

SFJane claims that not only is bipolar "not real" but that she had bipolar and cured it. Do you see a problem here already kiddies? Yeah. Me too. I won't give it away for you, but this broad says some things that will make even a bipolar skeptic say "Well THAT doesn't sound right....." and rub his chin in that creepy way skeptics rub their chin.

I took issue with a plethora of things that splattered on me during her verbal shitstorm, so I commented on YouTube that she should get herself an education.
She replied, in what I have now come to know as her usual cuntified way, but has since blocked me from commenting back. I have taken that as a challenge; one which I intend to WIN right now.  So grab your popcorn kiddies, because the feature presentation is about to begin.  ..... roll film.




Jane,
I want to thank you from the bottom of the middle finger I'm holding up for making this so easy for me. The insults practically write themselves!  I was subjected to your massacre of the truth for over a fucking hour, now you can endure my uncensored character assassination which, by the way, is totally justified. I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce.

 **The opinions stated here are those of MYSELF and do not represent the thoughts or opinions of assholes like YOU, who should do us all a favor and go play "Let's Drink What's Under The Kitchen Sink".

Why You've Officially Been Named Douchebag Of The Day

1. You are a coward. Your asinine opinion makes me want to snack on live powerlines but I will defend until my death your right to speak your mind uncensored.  You obviously do not feel the same way, because you blocked my comments on YouTube. How do you stand up so straight without a spine?

2. You speak in a creepy Madonna-esque dialect. Listen; you can't fool anyone unless you're consistent. "MEM-WAHHR" or "MEM-HWAH"??  Pick one. And stick to it. On a scale of 1 - 10, you're an idiot.

3. You are redundant. You say the same thing over and over again and you repeat yourself alot. Many times, you say the same exact thing you already said and you'll also keep saying that same word and you repeat it a lot. And you repeat yourself. (sarcasm there... learn it. love it. suck it.)

4. You quote directly from a thesaurus. When you AREN'T being redundant, you sometimes manage to spit out some pretty impressive words, but if you want people to believe they didn't come directly from Mirriam-Webster's, it's probably a good idea to TAKE THEM OUT OF ALPHABETICAL ORDER FIRST. Duh. Did the little hamster in your head fall off its wheel again?

5. Nothing you say is factual. Over the entire span of the 28 minute video, you only managed to make 2 points. And both of them are underwhelming and inaccurate. You think you are an inspiration? You are! If what you're trying to inspire is pity. *sigh*  Soooo many freaks, not nearly enough circuses.

5. You say that you can't get intelligent conversation from a bipolar person. Intelligence? Intelligence????? The most intelligent snippet of wisdom I witnessed in your entire 28 minute festival of delusions was somewhere near the 5:10 marker. You said "I beat my mania when there were slowages at work. SLOWAGES?? REALLY?  C'mon. A fetus could tell you that 'slowages' isn't a word. But just to be certain, I looked it up. In 3 different dictionaries. All of them had the same results.... 'word not found' but they did recommend another word...


Yes, I DID mean sewage. And slag. Yes, I did. Thank you, dictionary.com, thesaurus.com and mirriamwebster.com for that correction.


6. You say that you cured yourself of SCHIZ-EE-OH-AFFECTIVE disorder. SchizEEEoaffective. Jane, If you can't SAY it, you never HAD it.
(FYI it's SKITZ-OH-AFFECTIVE. there's no ee before the oh...)
  ~~~Old MacDonald had a farm  ~~~no ee just an oh...~~~ 

7. You say "we" when you mean "you"... UGH. That's worse than referring to yourself in the third person. In my experience, people who say "we" when they mean "you" are arrogant assholes who treat other people like minions in an effort to disguise their own self-loathing.

Even kindergarten teachers sound pathetic saying it....  "What do we say when someone gives us a compliment Little Johnny???"  If I were little Johnny, I'd shove the nearest writing utensil up her ass, and before she could react, I'd say "But Teacher, WE like that." Then I'd strut away and say "Bada Bing! I think she got the point."

8. You are a blatant liar. Do you really expect me to believe that you've written a book about mental well being? A BOOK THAT'S BEING PUBLISHED???? I doubt you could get a PHONE NUMBER published, much less a book.


Jane, I could go on and on but I have more pleasant things to do, like shove pencils through my tongue, so I'll close this little diatribe now.  But before I go, there's just one more thing:

You say that you are not depressed AT ALL anymore and that you have "found" yourself? My guess is that you found yourself crouched, wild-eyed, in the corner of a Krispy Kreme with little bits of dough and glaze stuck to your unwashed hair.

Nobody goes from THIS:

(skinny pic)

To THIS:

(fat pic)

in less than a year because they are joyously celebrating how happy they are with themselves...  Smells like depression to me. You reek of fear and self-doubt Jane. And if you would take a few minutes to actually SPEAK with someone living with bipolar disorder rather than ATTACK them, you might learn how to love yourself. 

But I'll still hate you.

** Dear readers: If you think you can stomach it, here are 2 of this douchebag's videos which I think you will find particularly repulsive.  Try and get through even 6 minutes of each one without lighting yourself on fire. It's tough, but I know you can do it!  Then, if you're so inclined, leave your comment for Jane to chew on... 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnJPfMhasQA

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZG8HJ1DJOBg

If advice were money, this would be worth about 3 cents.

Yeah yeah, I'll take the damn three cents.

So I had planned to expose an online bullshit artist this afternoon in this blog post. Because of unforseen circumstances (I didn't feel like it) that will not be happening. Let's shoot for tomorrow.... 

In the meantime, to keep you sustained... (I mean, let's face it; you're chomping at the bit to get a piece of that woman) I am giving you a little list of DO's and DONT's that I think we should all memorize and live by.  

** A private thank you goes out to the woman who told me "Don't ever burn your bridges".  I thought you were an arrogant bitch, and I HATE unsolicited advice, but without your input, this list would not exist. So for being an intruding and obnoxious pain in the ass, thank you.

Okay, let's roll up our handcuffs and begin, shall we?

1. DO avoid cliches like the plague

2. DO  settle with a flamethrower that which cannot be settled with words.

3. DO talk. If you can improve on the silence. If you can't, DO shut up.

4. DON'T judge a book by its movie.

5. DON'T use a  big word when a diminutive one will certainly suffice.

6. DON'T put old people in ponds.

7. DON'T breed.

That's it. Be happy you got THAT.... there are kids in China who would be elated to read that list. 

The Fact That You're Paranoid Doesn't Mean I Didn't Cut Your Brake Lines

I have a friend (and by "friend", I mean a person who I barely know and can hardly stand) who asked me to teach him how to play poker not too long ago. Let me make you aware of one thing... This guy is DUMB. I mean the drooling kind of dumb. The kind of dumb where you spell dumb as "D-U-M" dumb. But I agreed to take him to a poker game and show him the basics. Let me just say for the record that the only thing in my life I regret more is when I accidentally got jalapeno pepper juice on my girly parts when I was really manic. But I'll tell you THAT story another time. (By the way, if I've already told you THIS story, shut the fuck up and listen attentively anyway, you self centered bastard you.)

I'll get to the point. Some of the things that this guy said in public were things I never thought I'd hear spoken aloud. Ever. One shining example is when he said (no word of a lie) "Gum wouldn't be good if it wasn't chewy like gum." Yeah. He said that. My first thought was "Does everyone visualize duct tape over your mouth so early into the conversation, and where's the nearest hardware store?".  But duhhhm guy's snippet of wisdom really got me to thinkin'...

There ARE things that I actually will never hear. Not even ONCE....


* Nah.... Bipolar's no big deal. It's actually kinda fun!
* How do I get more cockroaches INTO my house?
* Confederate flag tattoo or rainbow flag tattoo? Both?
* Yo! Crank up that goddamn oboe. That beat is the shizzy!
* Ever since she had the baby, we've been fucking like rabbits!
* Oh, cool, you have 9 cats.
* I wish that stranger with the pinky ring would come touch my hair.
* This printer ink is a bargain!
* David Schwimmer is so hot! I just wish he looked more Jewish.
* May I please stalk you?
* I caught my husband jerking off to "The View" this morning.
* Do you sell O'Douls by the keg?
* If you spit in my mouth, I'll give you twenty bucks.
* I could eat the shit outta some beets right now!
* Any of you nuns got some blow?
* I think it's sweet that his mother still does his laundry.
* Sunnis...Shiites... What's the difference? We're all the same.
* I love that store - they have the best Tic-Tacs!
* I wish the girls at this party were less hot.
* Scientists have discovered the cure for cancer...prayer.
* I don't hire whites--don't trust 'em.
* Mommy, I want socks and underwear for Christmas!
* I really wish "The Facts of Life" was still on TV.
* Sex with two girls at once?! Gross!
* I can't wait to see how I look in my bridesmaid's gown!
* Good idea! I'd love it if you could flush the radiator after you change the oil!
* Scalpel...No, the dull one.
* That Paris Hilton is so talented...and classy
* I'm going to kick that guy's ass after I finish this Mike's Hard Lemonade.
* This condom feels great!
* The Salvation Army bell ringer, now there's a sweet gig.
* That guy would be hot if he just had more dandruff.
* Oh... I'm sooo hoping my grandson is gay!
* Man, phlebotomists get all the pussy!
* Honey, please take control of the remote.
* Martin Scorsese couldn't direct his way out of a wet paper bag.
* NUKE-LEE-ER.
* You're BIPOLAR??? I'd never have guessed!
* The fact that you're paranoid doesn't mean I didn't cut your brake lines.

I Can't Effing Stand It

Any one of these things has the potential to make my brain bleed...
1. Michael Vick
2. Customer Service people who provide everything BUT customer service
3. "Baby On Board" decals
4. Whoopi Goldberg stickingup for Michael Vick
5. People who drive below the speed limit. Fuck off and pull over.
6. Two facedness. If you don't like me, don't pretend to. Do you see me making nicey nice to you, bitch? Let's just agree to hate each other openly.
7. Right-to-Lifers. The little baby feet pins they peddle? I'd like to take a pair of those little feet and kick them in the ass with it.
8. Radical Feminists who can't take a joke. Go home; shave your legs and wax the ‘stache... all that body hair is making you cranky
9. Passive Aggressive behavior... In other people. It's okay when I do it.
10. Blue Eyeshadow
11. Soccer Moms
12. People who order toasted bagels at the Dunkin Donuts Drive Thru. If you're eating that crap you NEED to WALK into the store to order it. It's a drive-thru, not five star dining. These people almost always drive minivans or SUV's and 99.99% of the time are soccer moms. Bitches. And they're holding up the line
13. Lawn Ornaments
14. People who insist on explaining anything and everything in excruciating he said/she said and then this happened and that happened detail. Skip the gristle and get to the bone please. Tick tock; time is money. Unless, of course, I'm the one telling the story...
15. Moral Superiority........
16. Moral Bankruptcy .........
**There's a happy medium on this one - I've enjoyed it for years...
17. Rule Benders.... Grow some balls and blatantly break a rule, wouldja?
18. Pick up truck drivers who meticulously wax and buff their huge truck beds till they shine and never actually haul anything. I thought pick up trucks were used to pick stuff up?
19. Perpetual Dieters. Put down the bag of Cheetos, get the hell off the couch and stop fooling yourself. The "All Processed and Fried All the Time" diet didn't work the last time, and I'll bet dollars to the bag of donuts you're hiding in your purse that you're not gonna see stellar results in this round either.
20. People who stand in line at Stop n Shop complaining quietly the ENTIRE TIME... "Huff Puff I don't believe this, why do they only have one clerk on a holiday weekend? This is ridiculous!" Shifting from one foot to another... blah blah motherfucking blah. Just shut up and do what I do: Complain loudly ONE time (swearing is optional) about how you don't have time to wait for a cashier to become competent; throw your shit on the counter and leave. It's way more liberating that way.
21. Having someone read over my shoulder.
22. People who stack their plate in a neat little pile for a waitress at a restaurant, yet neglect to clear even one plate from the dinner table at home..
23. Political corruption
24. Political Correctness
25. Mothers who have no other points of conversation besides their adorable and highly advanced for their age children or their stretch marks, length of labor and c-section scars.
26. Pop up ads
27. People who pronounce lawn with a 'd' on the end of it.
28. A fresh loaf of bread placed at the BOTTOM of the grocery bag
29. People who are always early. It is just really rude.
30. People who make excuses for being early.
31. People who don't apologize for making YOU early.
32. Alcohol breath. Unless it's MY alcohol breath - then it's fine.
33. People who talk about you when you are still in the room. How rude...you are supposed to talk about people behind their back... it's called manners.
34. Retail clerks who don't acknowledge my royal presence.
35. People who insist on taking their 2 year old to grown up movies so we can all appreciate the lovely child more.
36. Excessive and unnecessary use of "quotation" marks
37. People who always talk about how honest they are. Truly honest people don't have to advertise. Honestly.
38. Donkeys who suck out on the river.
39. Spelling errors on public signs or in advertisements.
40. Going out on the bubble.