You Know What I Hate? 2008

I've decided that in order to avoid pent up hostility and irritation, I needed to create a venting section in my blog. We'll consider "the flushing" problem the first "know what I hate? 2008" entry.

MARRIAGE NAT-ISM

To me, Marriage is like Chicken-pox. I'm only getting it once.

Constipation.. a theory that rhymes

As of late, there seems to be an epidemic in this nation;
People in a chronic state of mental aggravation.
They’re flipping out on everyone without any provocation,
And I believe I may have found a common correlation.

Hostility is stemming from a cause I’ve isolated.
These people are all cranky just because they’re constipated.

Yes, I believe the real problem is lack of defecation;
Backed up colon, impacted stool, and poop procrastination.
A problem simply remedied by intestinal hydration
Should not cause the populous such violent irritation.

So get those heads out of those butts, and you’ll be tolerated.
And don’t crap on other people just because you’re Constipated!

Ode to a Wheat-Thin

“Ode to a Wheat Thin”

Oh, little charming wheat thin

you saved me poor little tummy

Because, little crunchy wheat thin

I forgot breakfast, and you're so yummy.

AND little scrumptious wheat thin

someone brought a cheese ball today!

SO my delightful wheat thin

Stomach acid won't eat my gastro-intestinal membrane away!

Know What I Hate? 2008 ... Non-Flushers!

Of course we're all guilty of a time or two, where we've realized that in a rush we've been multitasking in the bathroom (maybe on the phone), and forgotten to take care of that crucial final step. Flushing the toilet. If you are like me, this "fecal" error is something that has NEVER happened outside my own home.

If only this were the case for everyone.. or even the majority. Who HASN'T walked into a public bathroom and slowly opened the door only to find the evidence of someone else's healthy bowels stagnating at the bottom of the toilet? I mean, we're happy for them because they get enough fiber, but PLEASE! Do you have to publicly proove it?? These are the shameless types. They must be destroyed, or take a class on bathroom ettiquette. I think I'll start that class.. Sanitation 101: Where the toilet handle is, and how it works. A Pass or Fail course. But I'm not grading the final!

There are other perpetrators that I don't hold such a strong animosity toward: Those who Flush and Run. Ya gotta admitt, it's not the most disirable thing to have to view the physical evidence of what brought you to the toilet in the first place.. but to spare others viewing it for you, one should always wait around for the followup flush when necessary.

And we can't leave out the final circumstance of flush-deficiency.. The Poop Pulp problem. You know when things just don't properly digest, and you're faced with a problem that is nigh unflushable? The poop pulp. The fibrous floaties that just won't submitt to the poly-flush (may also happen with recycled toilet paper). What can you do? JUST FLUSH AGAIN! It has to succumb eventually. All evidence MUST be destroyed. That boat ain't sailing without pulling the magic lever, sometimes repeatedly with big boats! Exorcise that butt deamon, and send it to a place where it can never return to haunt future bathroom patrons of the world! ... That is all

Life after Love

Life after Love.. I think Cher's interpretation of this phrase is kinda lame and Angsty. The man leaves.. and she is sad. WOW! never been a song about THAT before!

This is the way I see it..

Life after Love is what happens when you get married. It is a lot like Life after death. I shall explain:

Picture this regular scenario.. Boy meets girl, girl likely starts out indifferent or uninterrested initially. Boy sees this as a challange to be overcome; and, as in overcoming most challanges, has to become the best version of himself and pursue his goal. Suddenly, he becomes the smooth-talking, door-opening, attention-giving validator for girl. What girl would see this as off-putting? NONE. So she buys it. Hook is bated, girl is snared; and after reaching the point of no return in the relationship, the poor fish is metaphorically gutted. Since there's no merciful rock to the head first, the gutting process is slow and painful.

Starts at the mouth, same as a trout. Suddenly everything she says is either wrong or ignored. Then down to the lungs; when he becomes controlling and she is no longer given any breathing room. The heart begins to be ripped out at this point, but may continue trying to beat as the gutting proceeds to the stomach and loins. Ahh, the loins.. she has bourn his children, destroyed her body to do it. We've been exposed (in a number of ways) Discomfort and Vulnerability quickly follow.

So there we are.. empty fish ready for grilling, but we'll gladly sacrifice ourselves to satisfy his needs. No more need for a man to bait the hook (with chivalry or compliments.. or time) unless he finishes you off and goes after other seafood.

Ahhh, life after love. It's a good fish fry; good for you, but the meal may bring about more post-supper bloat than contented satifaction. I must say, though, I am happily bloated. Above you will see the man who snagged me... or at least the butt of that man. What woman could resist this charming creature?

If I had a million dollars

I've never been a wealthy person. I was born with no silver spoon in my mouth.. in fact, as a child, I remember using picnic-ware at most meals.. recycled too! Mom taught us where to load it in the dishwasher so it wouldn't melt. I remember living in our apartment which was attached to a mortuary; at the time there were four kids. We all shared a bedroom the size of a walk-in closet. There was a bunkbed for the two oldest kids (I had the top until I started falling off in my sleep), a trundel bed kept under the bunkbed for the middle sister, and baby Johnny was in the crib... until he was three or four and his legs started sticking out of the bars.

But we were happy! Beside the fact that there were corpses in the basement and hurses in the parking lot, it was a very normal childhood. We did have a limosine! It was usually strictly used for funeral processions, but we had to take it on a road trip once because the family had grown out of the Oldsmobile Omega. I remember stopping at a McDonald's on this trip, and seeing all the curious eyes wondering what celebrity might be craving a Big Mac.. then they saw us, The Fausetts, piling out in ragedy-road-trip-stained sweats, messy hair, and candy residue on our faces. We were a picture of class! I'm sure weeks later, mourning families with sad heads hanging down as they were transported to the cemetary, were wondering why there were french fries stuck to the limo carpet.

Now I'm broke and married and a mom. My little boy knows the joy of wearing 4th hand clothes, and staying in a diaper until every last bit of absorbtion is used up. But this situation makes us better people in the long run. For instance; I would never look at an orphan and think "Wow, what a dirty, pitiful little kid!" Instead, I would think to myself "I wonder where he got those great shoes."

SO.. If I ever had a million dollars (or 500,000 after taxes), I think I would probably use more diapers.