American Idol sux. + possible triggering stuff

Oh I am really 'full of it' tonight.

First of all, I am pissed about American Idol. Adam Lambert can sing better than Kris Kringle. Period. Why didn't he win? I am wondering if it is because he is gay. What the?

I can't wait for him to make a CD. I haven't bought music in a loong time, but I will buy that. I am also considering boycotting Idol in the future. What a joke it is.

Additionally, on an entirely different topic, I am pissed and feeling very low in general. Certain things from the baking thing bother me. Long story not getting into right now.

As in I thought about (pOSSIBLE TRIGGER) offing myself. But instead I ate some chocolate, took a clonapin (not in that order) and am now typing.

I will regret all of it (the typing) except that I will breathe for another day tomarraw. For those of you not aware, I do know how to spell - I was speaking of the day after tonight known as to-mor-row.

I went to my baking thing and was all alone with the founder who I greatly admire in heneral (that's Spanish for in general). If this is creativity, shoot me.

We talked of many things. But I ended up feeling sad today as I thought of it. I felt very left out of her schizophrenic world, one in which she finds there are so many others having the same symptoms as she.

I don't feel like I know a kinship of bipolars, or get to talk with anyone hardly except my emotionally verklempt husband for 10 minutes while we snarf down dinner and then he goes comatose on the couch, never to be heard from again. Not to mention he's the only human being I see all day. It's very weird. I might as well live in a burkha.

I married someone who doesn't laugh, doesn't speak much, but is real sweet. He's not mean to me, he is kind and says that he loves me (I'm about being truthful, not skewering the guy) but except for the emergencies he's not getting involved, know what I'm sayin'? Even then I would have to be holding a weapon in my hand or worse, shake him from deep sleep telling him I believe it's Armageddon again (That's worse than having a weapon only because that would be waking him up). You get the picture.

Anyhoo, said founder of bakery thing, who is also quite sweet (and naive, really, but that is another thing) and is a go-getter, I've said so in the past, works really hard, has a husband and child, goes to school, and apparently to her chagrin, takes medicine.

Probably not realizing how much this medicine makes it possible for all of the above to occur. Just an observation.

Then founder says she would like to be off medicine someday.

What is with people being afraid to take medicine? I am getting too tired tonight to write the scathing pissed off feelings that I feel about it.

I've paid a price a large exhorbitant price to learn that I've got to be on the stuff in order to be in this reality. Period. Six months in a state hospital NOT being a criminal but merely a mortal with an illness gives me the right to state this. I've been in remission for 15 years and I am still brought to tears if I talk about what happened then. And when I say remission, I mean psychotic episodes not the rest of the illness which is blunted greatly by tons of medication but STILL raises its ugly head enough to not let me live a normal life.

The anger courses through me. I have no one to talk to about it. So I send it out on the internet winds.

Why am I angry? Because so many times I have pulled myself up by my bootstraps, come back stronger from a 'fall' or at least survived the unfathomable and have no one to talk to about it. So now I pathetically write it on my blog.

I had another dream about smoking last night. It was a choice between a long lovely menthol or a long regular cigarette. In the dream, I chose the regular because I was concerned about ripping my lungs with the menthol (I smoked mostly menthols for 10 years in real life). Amazing. Worried about my health in a dream like that.

Plenty of real nightmares lately too. Won't go into it. Doesn't make you much want to sleep does it? Well, the 'dream cigarettes' make it nicer.

I wake up at 4 a.m. after a particularly messed up dream and can't sleep. It doesn't help that the next door neighbor's dog bays, howls, barks at 5:30 a.m on. Then my Emma dog starts in and then you are no longer compatible with the nice person that everyone thinks (I) am. You just want to yell.

But husband is sleeping. And its not Armageddon yet.

Who's Crazy Now?!!! (a Rant.)

So the whole looking-for-a-new-psychiatrist thing has taken a turn for the worse.

Having to speak to the most inane, insensitive, STUPID secretaries that seem to enjoy dangling your life in their hands is enough to make anyone either quit the search or have to don armor just to pick up the phone and try to make a simple appointment.

It SHOULD be simple. Make an appointment. Go to appointment. Have yer heart ripped out.

I had gotten the list from my insurance, I had consulted my primary care physician and I have abided by all the rules, crossed my t's and obeyed the q's.

Only to have conversations that include statements like "We don't deal with psychotic people (I mentioned I was Bipolar I and tried to briefly explain what that meant and tried to explain that my last psychosis was 15 years ago (which seems like a KEY POINT). I suspect They deal with psychotic people all the time and I even asked her what they do with them when they run across them, because her responses MADE ME FEEL PUNCHY).

It's a counseling center located inSIDE the local mental hospital, which frankly already makes me nervous. Some part of me is not trusting, not convinced that they are not laying in wait to get me in there on a more permanent basis. I know, I know, that sounds silly and unreasonable but few have ever accused me of being otherwise.

So I asked to make an appointment with one of the doctors and Secretary says no he is not taking patients. Not to be daunted, I had a second name, for the same counseling center (I only had two 'approved' names from my doctor out of a list of 20 or so, and I wasn't about to be hornswaggled into accepting just any old psychiatrist. No, I want the best as I think highly of my primary care physician who went to the trouble of recommending them and if I'm going to leave the County after 15 years I d*mn well want good care!!!!)

Anyway, secretary says she can make an appointment with this second person but it will be a couple of months out (which I don't mind whatsoever, what's a few more months of being bled dry by the County as it will take them a while to copy my ENOURmous chart and get it there anyway, I know the b*st*rds.) and wouldn't I prefer a pdoc that I can get a sooner appointment with. Like it's some kind of switch a roo, like wouldn't you want someone you've never heard of, have your life in their hands type of thing all because I, Secretary, don't want to schedule you out 2 months even though you've expressed it's not a problem.

No I don't want the first available. I want someone good. As Suze Orman says, do what is Right, not what is Easy. I am upset that I am being 'handed' (more like fighting for) a psych like Sears sells power tools (and everthing else, I know I worked in the Men's Department!) with bait-and-switch tactics and no care for the effect on the consumer. I am so angry.

Oh, she tried hard. She said ALL their psychs could deal with Bipolar, and this particular psych was their only woman, and they liked to reserve her for the under-30 set. Which I would have understood (I'm really not unreasonable, and for the record I AM IN REALITY, d*mn it!), but Secretary did not put her foot down and say I could not have an appointment with her, only that again normally they 'reserved her' (whose They, and that's weird) for adolescents and she, Secretary, wanted to make me a SOONER appointment.

Which is so odd, because after the conversation she took ALL my information, asked HORRIBLY INVASIVE questions for a person that I don't know and would never want to - COMBATTED me and cut me off on those questions before I could even explain, not caring anyway what I was saying (which really was the most galling part of it) and was incredibly ignorant of mental health issues yet portended such importance and knowledge (making her triply ignorant, even Husband said so) and then said "We will look up your hospitalizations and GET BACK TO YOU. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

That's fine if that's how they treat everybody else. But I am thinking that she is afraid that I am psychotic and will kill her only precious female psych and must evaluate me and my history. That's the impression that I get. I will be pleasantly (??) surprised if she does call back. Really.

I am thinking that she will not call back, until I call next week and ask to speak to the manager, or get Husband to call (which I think I should do all along, as I have become incapable of dealing with these people anymore), or ask my primary care physician's wonderful, NOT-STUPID, gifted, lovely assistant to call and ask them what the deal-e-o if they actually don't call back.

I'm not enlarging the situation, mountains really are mountains (no molehills) and I'm thinking of going to a nearby county or an unauthorized person (on the list but not loved by my doctor) across the street from said mental hospital because this place is a Mickey-Mouse Operation.

On another note it's only Saturday, so it may not be a big deal but it's 4:36a.m. and I haven't gone to bed yet. Yeah. The puppy will be up at 5:30 for pee-peeing. What's the use of going to bed. I'm so wired.

Other than that, I know I'm lucky. I've got insurance and so many don't and I know that I am blessed incredibly to have it.

The County has made it clear that I have to 'move out' of the program, and they made so many promises that they can no longer keep I have to (read: forced) to go through this process and you think, ok, I will make phone calls today, I will make contact with these people and they are awful to you.

I can't imagine what they see, and I am fortunate because I understand that They don't know me, They are just performing a job. But this is my job too, taking care of myself. This is what I do. And apparently I'm a little ineffective at it at the moment.

Lucky gal.

As I write this I am in a cranked out mood. Cranky. Trying to get over it, but that's life.

I have been working on fixing a jacket for someone at the Drop-in Center. He will pay me a little to fix it and it is frustrating me this morning, as it is suede and the needle I am using is large and I am having difficulty getting it through. Arggg!

The thing also smells because the jacket owner is a smoker and I sometimes must take breaks from it to get away from the stench.

Long-time readers may remember that the Tart use to smoke, for about 10 years, but I quit a few years ago, and yes it often now smells bad to me to be in the extreme vicinity of it. Not always, but I don't like being blanketed in it with the thing on my lap. Who knew?

I am also obsessively recovering from having my feelings hurt at the Drop-in Center yesterday. It only takes one comment sometimes to send me hurting and upset and then - mad, then upset again. I won't grace it with discussion except to say it was fairly small, and I need to get over it. Yes, Tart sensitive. Must stop it.

So to take a break, I got on the computer and started looking up favorite things to cheer me up.

Of course, the ultimate cheer-up is knowing I'm picking up my precious girl (my new fawn Pug puppy) on Saturday!! Yes, I found a precious girl and she will be ready to go home on Friday, but Saturday's the day we will pick her up.

We have taken two pictures of her and when I was going off and being so obsessive about my feelings being hurt last night, Husband brought up her beautiful face on the laptop and reminded me what was important in life.

I am so lucky that I have a good homelife and my pets to keep me company during the day. Sometimes I want to be around people and of course, now I feel 'burned' about going to Drop-in and want to just say well the heck with you, I'm going to have my puppy to love up and take care of.

I can't seem to do that quite yet, because I promised, or said that I would, go to the Executive Director's birthday party on Friday at the Center. I don't want to let her down but I don't really want to go there anymore, at least not the way I'm feeling right now.

I have done good work with them - a fundraiser, proofing a grant, sending out three letters of inquiry for food grants - I have given when all that some others have done is taken, and of course it's a 'taker' that makes a jealous comment about me because there is a genuine friendship between the Executive Director and I.

No wonder I am friends with the Executive Director, we are friends, we do get along so well, and no wonder that some people are just jealous beyotches and truth be told I hate jealousy because I just don't know what to say - I almost feel sorry for the other person but I get mad because they are attacking me. It's just so uncomfortable and unfair.

And then I spend time thinking of what I should have said. Yeah, like I need this.

And I said I wouldn't talk about it.

But, on the upswing, I'm getting a puppy and I know I'm a lucky gal for that.

Thank you all for your comments on the previous couple of posts. I really do appreciate them.

WHAT!!? Not everyone considers furbabies as fur-children!!??!

I guess I can see the neighbor's problem. My small, adorable black pug only barks like a crazed doggie when she see's their kid, a small girl. My pug, has issues with the small variety of human. They are strange, a source of concern, or perhaps she's playing with them, I don't know. But she is consistent.

We have other pugs here, my other fawn, and my Mom's fawn, for a total of 2 other pugs that came to check out the fuss. So I had told my Mom to call me if my little one barked or carried on.

The thing is, she won't do it unless the loud (I can hear her) child comes to the fence and babbles and goads the dog into a frenzy. I mean that, the dog is fine without neighbors child or mowing next to the fence, the two things I've seen get her going.

The short of it, is the Dad of child drags her away from the fence muttering something about 'Not right to have 3 dogs..'

Ouch. Not only did he not accept my apology for my puggie, which I don't think she started anyway, it's clear that they don't understand the love we have for our dogs. It was not a frenzy with the 3 of them, the other two were just THERE.

So, I would be surprised if I ever have a human child, being pumped full of drugs and already owning a ripe hormonal system. However, I'm doing well with the fur-children and I will just have to accept that human parents don't see it the same way.

I'm lucky I'm allowed to speak to people with children, after all I'm such a FREAK, as a 36-year old woman who has not reproduced. Can we take into account that during the years of prime reproduction I had three scorching cases of psychoses? I mean, we should be impressed with that and the fact that lately I've been hiding my tarkinesia as I can. Could a Mom be more superhuman?

Ah well, its a good thing that people like me are so tolerant of the rest. But I'm not impressed with the squealing and outright ruckuses in restaurants, and if I was saddled with it - the constant responsibility, the incredible possibility to screw up and the kid turns out 'bad,'and I'm not interested in my local PTA, because I've taught children and they were a delight, their parents were the nightmare - so why rock the boat on having what is already populating Earth too much anyway.

My illness is not my fault, but my ability to use reproductive shields successfully is apparently something to further be amazed with. I'm grateful for my consolation prizes and I'll try not impinge on parental territory any more than they should cut on what I consider my joy. I think I deserve some.

Next post: PMS, the scorge I can't rid myself of, besides Bipolar. What frkn frustration.

Ready to Rumble

I get so mad about the Xyprexa, Eli Lily Lies because I was on the stuff for a brief while, feeding on carbs (how dare I, as that was the only disclaimer I was given out of the mental ward – DON’T EAT PIES! I am dead serious.) getting fatter by the moment and lucking out in not growing the pathos of diabetes.

Others: not so lucky. For years of lying and covering up the truth instead of spending the billions to make sure the damn drug was safe, Lily must pay, and pay well.

Every payout needs to take a serious bite out of da bizniss. It might was as well be the Mafia, what a setup and a ream the Drug Companies truly are.

I am a youngling, that means old to some of you, and it was in my prime when the Exxon Valdez oil disaster occurred. I know some tasteless jokes on that matter, but the best is when the Exxon boat driver realizes he ‘messed up’ Alaska. Yeah, messed up something, Boat Driver.

Well, Eli Lily has been forced thru court of law, to see that they ‘messed up’ schizophrenics and bipolars in the fine state of Alaska to the tune of $15 million dolla’s. Which is so paltry, considering the billions to settle just 30,000 individual claims.

Read it: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/26/business/26cnd-zyprexa.html?_r=1&8au=&oref=slogin&emc=au&pagewanted=print

Read about the pure greed, the cover up of playing down the drug’s risks (Diabetes and cholesterol problems) to doctors, all to make sure they sold the drug.

The thing is there’s such a thing as R&D, Research & Development, for every drug. This company clearly cut corners with finishing their job. Their deceitfulness gave a life debilitating illness to so many. Diabetes kills, especially on top of the confusion of Bipolar. My God, if I got it I’d contemplate suicide with sincerity.

I’ll never know what my Dad REALLY died of, but they say it has to do with the diabetes, never mentioning his possibility to tox out, like I almost did. He took his meds religiously. We all trust massively when we pop our medications in our mouth: the doctors, their knowledge, hospitals even.

To have to wonder if the drug companies are waiting for the pennies on our eyeballs is utterly reprehensible. Eli Lily, I barf on you. And all your little (always dressed in black) VULTURE DRUG REPS, too.

Make my Lithium right you little bitches, or you will just wish you had never been born. God, don't piss off a 'Tart.

PETA is crazy!

Seriously, it's an organization that indulges in over the top progaganda concerning topics that are meant to shock, upset and emotionally scar. At least the minds of decent folks.

Was there ever an animal abuser that was changed by these tactics? Crass, harshness breeds more of it. Hard hearted attempts bring on more of the same thinking.

I don't know why people who say they care about animals can simultaneously think that the rest of us are too insensitive that we must be subjected to what can only be described as shock treatment.

Shock treatment is for the mentally ill. They get submission forms and a tongue depressor before hand.

I'm extreme, I admit. I can't take seeing any kind of abuse. It makes me sick. I know enough evil exists in this world. You don't have to shove it in my face.

If I take care of mine and report others around me, I think I can safely stand before my God. So pushy can just shove off, savvy?

PETA is upset about fried chicken possibly being considered the main picnic food of Kentucky.

Why Kentucky needs a 'main picnic food' I don't know, however PETA really has other considerations before taking on that fried chicken opponent.

For instance, PETA canya come and talk to my blessed neighbor and explain that if she bought a dog for her daughter that she should keep it inside and not OUTSIDE 24/7, to do nothing but keep my babies from doing their business when they go out.

One is learning. Could she learn to pee first, then run up and down the fence with Bongo another day? How novel that would be.

Oh, I know, PETA! - Why don't you take offense at all that fake stuff in your main spokeswoman's boobs (Pam Anderson)?

There may, in fact, be an animal in there, so why don't you get off your "high" horse and take care of important shit, instead of scaring me, a real animal lover, with video's of decrepit sick animals (Petsmart ads).

Real animal lover's don't have to be scared into anything.

If that's how it works for you, take a lesson from organizations that teach, inform, and bring people to the concepts of good animal care, like good zoo orgs or The Crocodile Hunter (posthumously) and daughter JungleGirl.

What the hell is wrong with the PETA pseudo organization?

Cowards have to scare people. And that's not cool, to say the least.

Tired of (C)razed (V)ile (S)uckers. Someone had to say it.

Aflak's ca-razy beneficent duck! (a steal off some site)

Oh, what to do when you're pre-menstrual and upset about your pharmacy getting snippy with you?

Do a post, Dahling.

I feel like crying. Heck, I did some of that a little while ago, along with a full fit directed at Husband, as he was being oh-so-logical.

Except for the part when he suggested it was my fault, that I always want the last word, AND he had the nerve to make fun of my hysteria.

He should be glad I signed the marriage agreement which is like unto a pact of confidentiality. So's that's all you'll get out of ME!!

But really, I am pissed am my pharmacy, those (C)razy (V)ile (S)uckers, the overloaded, understaffed, mean pieces de poo that they are.

Why take on so much work, if not for the bottom line. More customer's, selling more filth - OUGHT TO be able to afford the help, A-cord-dingly.

Who wants to be an underloved, overworked, underpaid pharm tech anyway? If this represents you, I bet you don't have the time to blog surf.

I'm thinking you are going home, tossing a handful of feed to whatever animal you have and falling face first, no teeth brushies, into the bed. You too tired to move, let alone fire up the 'puter.

But should you find this - don't expect a person who takes A LOT of drugs, (apparently against the norm. I've simply learned that I have to. End of paren.) who is keeping your industry in business, who is a significant reason for your paycheck, who keeps up with doctor's appt's, blood letting's, and in short does everything to keep it together and pop it in her mouth at the proper times,

to have overwhelming pity

for a person that, given a couple of years and who hangs in there, will be a full-fledged pharm making a lot money (off ME) and whom everyone has to listen to (even if they are a jackass).

I know. It's frightening how much I understand.

Don't hate me because it sounds so familiar. I'm nearly a master in the understanding of the human condition, and I'm simultaneously sickened by it. Just mail my Nobel, my Pulitzer, Thanx.

I am hormonal, I am about to be without Thyroid meds because of the inability of the Crazed Vile Suckers to get a hold of my doctor, despite an extra three days allowed.

If it was my job to do their job shouldn't I have been informed, there should be a form and background check on me performed, maybe a kickback on the side for my incurred administrative fees???

I just feel like saying f all of ya and going without.

Will this help me lose weight?

I assume this stuff is important for all the fuss that it is.

Someone please call Oprah, cause I know she understands my thyroid issues. We can talk for hours about the rest of it.

UPDATE: Feb 1, Fri. Got ahold of the reg Doc today and got them to call in my med. Yay. Oh, name change. (C)urt (V)ile (S)uckers. Thank you.

Filthy, Oozing, Busting Capillaries MAD

I am just filthy, filthy, raging angry.

I have only slightly begun to calm down from it.

Yep, ‘tis the season to destroy a few family relationships.

It’s such a long story.

Husband & I go see my In Laws, his parents, Aaaaall year long. It’s a five hour drive to and from. We do this once a month, despite the fact that Husband is no longer in the Reserves and doesn’t have to go.

We went to Thanksgiving.

MIL has a severe mental issue about her daughter. For all practical purposes, she has forgotten about giving birth to three boys before the Golden Child.

It is manifested in many ways. At Thanksgiving she forgot to even mention we were there, but somehow discussed, to the minute, the hours long stay of Golden Child, while calling her mother. Her mother asked about us though, and we were fleetingly mention: Oh yeah, they’re here.

So, I tired of the whole shebang. I decided Christmas will be for Husband and me for a shocking, once in a lifetime, change this year.

So, it seems MIL’s most precious, one and only Daughter decided to stay home as well.

And that I think must have been the breaking point, for MIL, anyway.

Suddenly, I receive an email that In Laws are flying to her mother’s this year. Just for 3 three days. ‘Because Christmas is for families.’

I let that one slide, sort of. Husband refused to see the ire in it, the god damn Guilt Trip herein. Said they could do that if they wanted to.

Then, the killer, breaking moment for me. We received the In Law ‘Christmas card’ today.

No where in it does it say ‘Merry Christmas.’

Instead, it is a repeat of the email, this time short and handwritten. Clearly stating that since no one came to them for Christmas they would be buying plane tickets and flying out to see the family.

I would like to state for the record, that we have gone to them once a month, every month, for years. We went to Thanksgiving. Why is this being directed toward us in any way?

I have decided to return their ‘Card’ and have written a scathing letter. Really, really scathing: that means Truthful.

I explained that we are not going to ONE function - Christmas. And that frankly, this has
nothing to do with us.

Send it to ‘Golden Child,’ because we don’t
want it.

Oh, and ‘Merry Christmas’ to you.

Dragging the Good Name of the Mentally Ill into another God d_mn shooting: SICK of IT!!

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/06/us/06omaha.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&th&adxnnl=1&emc=th&adxnnlx=1196971806-XDuQz5H3NX4DRuK7m3SbOw

If you would like to do your best to keep out of the 'war zone' that is today's public places: malls, your workplace, etc., you apparently have to stay home, work online, buy your gifts online, only answering your front door equipped with more protection and firepower afforded Iraqi soldiers. Get yourself a bullet-proof vest (this should be my next thing to get), pepper spray (I got it), a tazor gun (I got one), or a baseball bat (we're still wondering if wood or metal is better. I'm leaning towards wood. I like a good cr-ack sound.).

All this, because I accept the paramenters of of a person having been in a state mental hospital and therefore not getting the good firepower. Besides being stripped of dignity, many, many times, I've been stripped of my stupid 2nd Amendment rights, and I'm over it. There are no guns, including shotguns, no A-K 47's, semi-automatics, or anything would shoot a little 'ol deer, squirrel, or person, in my life because I accept reality.

I would never go to a gun show and I don't like it when Husband looks at (may I say bitty) guns online and talks about getting one. I've said no 1,000 times, and Therapist is concerned. Stop it, 'Dude that married me.' I know what's right. Why do you got to be like all these losers that somehow got a gun, or facilitated the aquisition of one by one who should not, right under the nose of a normie. What the hell is wrong, truly, with All of you?

Have you heard of the latest numnut, jerk, waste of human flesh to just go a-shooting in a mall after his life takes a pathetic turn, kills 8, and kills himself???? Worst of all, you know the next thing is delving into his 'mentally ill' history, since he was depressed.

Do you have to ruin mental health, and problematic but hard-working lives, FOR EVERYONE?? That to me is the worst, you fucked up understanding for the rest of us, put the movement, if nothing but a movement in my mind, every damn time this happens. There's a devil set aside for you Mr. Hawkins.

I guess I struggle with my Christianity when we get yet another story like this. I’m starting to think people who automatically want to organize prayer groups and don’t feel overwhelmed with anger are just robot units sent here to annoy.

This does nothing but anger me. Here I am ‘taking on’ a load of stuff that is Not My Problem. I feel beholden to say something for my own sake to get it out and for all the people that either don’t or can’t feel – that’s a biggie – and because anything else from me would be lies – and I think God ‘hates’ a liar, either to themselves or other’s, more than an angry, truthful bitch. Thank you.

The shooting in Omaha, the deadliest in their history, angers me most when I think of the shooter. Ahem, for you and every loser ‘thinking’ about doing this in the future – my bipolar opinion:

You are weak. If you are going to plead depression, breaking up with your girlfriend, losing your pathetic-ass job, or just that you’re some confused mentally ill whelp – well, in This case you made one of the stupidest mistake if you wanted to say it was SAD - you committed murder too early in the season, idiot!

Seasonal Affective Disorder has not even BEGUN to strike, so that’s no excuse in this case – you’re just plain pathetic. Wait til January, with the rest of us, when we are going insane with a lack of Vitamin D and sunshine. You numnut. Here’s a ‘b’ for the bitch who likes it spelled her way.

If you’re going to murder people, why don’t you wait a little later in your life to accrue a proper ‘history of mental illness.’ Once again, 19-year-olds haven’t lived long enough for a history of anything. Unless they live in the inner city and have been accruing misdemeanors since age 14. Regardless, hold on till you’re 40. If things haven’t got better, you’ve got more money for more firepower and I can hate you even more after you’ve killed even more and then taken the easy way out, killing yourself.

(&*(^(&%^&%*!!!!! You won’t find any sympathy about this jerkoff from ‘Tart. It’s a disgrace to the mentally ill anywhere when someone pulls murders in the name of their depression.

Newsflash: Whether it’s a normie’s fault for not stopping them, a normie’s fault for pushing them over the edge in some way, in the end it’s the mentally ill person’s name all over the newspapers/internet. It's the mentally ill jackoff's nombre in some dork-list of similar numnuts in a (hopefully soon to be) misplaced history book.

The fact that they are ‘mentally ill’ is NEVER lost on the media or people everywhere, even if you just walked into a clinic once.

So if you didn’t look like you should be committed, take some responsibility for your god damn life. As a person who has been committed TWICE (Me), true by a loving family who didn’t want to, I think we can swap champion-esque, ‘I controlled myself’ stories just as easily as this pathetic bullshit.

'A Chastened Imus Returns to Radio'

Here's the link from a NYT's article.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/03/business/media/03cnd-imus.html?_r=1&8au&emc=au&oref=slogin

Now that he's adding two black comedians, promising to chat about race relations while 'never saying anything to compromise the promise made to the Rutger's 'young ladies,' (a definite difference next to the description of them that got him trouble last time!!) he's got the all clear.

Excuse me, while I clear my delicate palate after those retching sounds just exuded that I had to turn the mic off for.

What IS it that I hate about I-mus so much? He is a hypocrite, plain and simple. I'm sure he explained to the money-makers that made him and themselves so much off his 'humor' that he didn't mean to piss the black people off so bad and They know that he just pushes the envelope everday because teenage boys getting ready for high school need a friend so They can sell crap to them. EIGHT MONTHS and he's reinstated.

Do you know what my most favorite movie of all time is? I had the joy of watching it again this weekend with Husband. I love it so much that it's impossible to control my parroting factoring, my repeat before they say it of what's said. Ready, kids??

Gooooood Morning, Vietnam!

This role was Robin Williams true calling. That was HIM, and he is utterly hilarious and true as Adrienne Cronoaur (sp) brought from Crete to do a radio show in Vietnam 1965.

Yes, he gets kicked off the radio at one point, for telling the truth! in a 'conflict' where the censors must be listened to.

You rent the movie. You do the research on Imus. Somebody's a dirty, media-owned slut and someone's got morals. One is funny, the other wouldn't know funny if a (wacka-wacka) horn wuz shoved up his butt. You be the judge.

Tart's Take on 2 inspiring headlines of today

This one right off of the MSN homepage:
7 killed in N.C. beach house fire - Anyone I know? (I'll never know since I didn't even get invited! I hear about people still going to beach houses, in North Carolina, in October no less, but again, I don't get invited.:) Who burns to death on the East Coast?

This one came off of MSN as well to get you on the Slate page - who I hate to give any advertisement to:
Lie to Your Children—It's Good for Them The terribly wrong message sent by Jessica Seinfeld and Missy Chase Lapine.
http://www.slate.com/id/2176564/?GT1=10538

Tart says:
If a mother can't 'lie' to her children to get a little nutritious food down their spoiled throats then what has this world come to? America please listen and repeat to yourself Endlessly: You are in charge of your children, Not the other way around (And neither is the 'terribly' over-rated Slate, either, Thank God). If they won't eat their carrots when You Instructed Them to, then they deserve to have it snuck in with their orange juice. Repeat.

Thank God there are Moms addressing the problem, making all the other Moms feel better about the whole thing AND who know how to use their blender. Amen.

I refuse to see what drivel they have written about this and I'm going to have to partially categorize this post under hopeless_b_tches without even looking at it for all the women who have nothing better than get nasty with each other, the author, blenders in general, and the carrot industry.

You people ruined your chances of getting a decent review about any of your shit concerning anything 'motherhood' (which I do give careful, giving evaluations to the side of true motherhood) ever again with the Slummy Mummy disaster. I can't take the hatred.

Why don't they appoint a lawyer for every kid issued a Social Security card so they can sue before they even know how to yawn? It'll help with the lawyer surplus as well. (I thought that up, and I dedicate it to Mark, my favorite Idiot.) Put something new up on your blog, Mark. That goes for all of ya's.

Since I Can't Get A Hold of Husband...

...you will hear my b_tch-fest.

Daily I am challenged by a force whom I have come to call God. If I stay at home, I may be hit by something akin to a panic attack, I don't know what you call it, but it's pathetic and includes worrying, anxiety, and the complete inability to get anything useful done.

If I go out, which includes me driving my own automobile, something, I mean SOMEthing always happens, whether I am almost completely rammed into head-on by a Hispanic driver who never even indicated that he noticed my existence or that he was almost responsible for something: my death.(about a week or so ago). Or the absolute vile, hateful, unbelievably cynical and stupid drivers that populate in general in my area (we still vye for #1 Road Rage, it is an utter documentable fact.)

To tonight's unbelievableness, which should have been a nice night out with my mother at the movies. Old-timers to the blog may recollect my various beefs about the public movie viewing experience (which I can now say is so over-rated I'll be buying more and more of my DVD's and watch them at home on the new LCD, where, frankly, people can act right.) Because I can attest whole heartedly THAT PEOPLE CAN'T ACT RIGHT IN PUBLIC PLACES, INCLUDING THE GOOD OL' MOVIE THEATRE.

I'm referring to the time I went to 'Walk the Line' in a croweded theater and had four grown adults do nothing but talk and literally destroy my viewing experience. That's most memorable, besides seeing 'King Kong' in the degraded 'movie cafe' in my 'town' that means drunk person sit in front of me, talk on their cell phone, and drinks so much before the show even starts that idiot actually falls out of your seat on his fool ass. The wrath of Tart is everywhere and you better watch out. If any of this sounds like you, (if you get drunk & loud and get real proud) please kill yourself now, because I'm so tired of it, I'm going to start carrying a bat. Along with my pepper spray and stun gun, that I already own.

So tonight I go to see the 'Rock who's a football player and finds out he has a daughter' movie with the madre at a time when nary a soul is at the movies. Except of course, we sat behind a Mom and her two younger daughters. Well, the person beHIND is usually the problem, usually talking or tapping your seat, so I thought, 'Wow, how refreshing,' we're probably going to have a nice movie experience.

Not so.

The movie's going along, and nothing sucks except the movie (yes, that's my official thumbs whatever, Roger Ebert) and then THE MOM STARTS PLAYING WITH HER CELL PHONE. CAUSING A BRIGHT LIGHT TO LITERALLY BEING SHINED INTO MY FACE.

I tried to actually put my hand way up blocking the light. This goes on for most of the stinking movie, and I finally realize that this bitch is not going to stop. I had to tap her shoulder (which I really was loathe to do) and say something like, "Excuse me, could you shut your cellphone? The light from it keeps getting in my eyes."

Where have we come to? Are people so common, mothers so stupid, no longer wishing to show their young daughters decorum, control, how the f--- not to be rude at the damn movies?

Because the woman put it away, and 20 f'n minutes was playing with it again. I'm serious.

For demographics, for all you wondering, she was a white plump woman, maybe in her 30's or younger, with kids (girls) with her.

People occasionally wonder why I don't have kids. Clearly because God realized I've lost my mind enough, and I for one, don't need further excuse for it. So when these people laugh (con-den-scend-ing-ly) saying I wouldn't understand, cause of this or that, couldn't it just be that they (the muthu?!) are just too stupid to understand?

When I was a kid I thought adults had it together. Yes, during the 70's adults and parents didn't do stupid things or least neeeever let on to me. So, I'm still in a bit of shock that the sad state of white trash that serves as motherhood these days are just children in fat people's bodies without a clue how to just pretend they know what the f- they're doing.

Did you really expect me to understand any kind of need that this poor woman had to play with the damn thing, make phone calls, cause she bored. Did you expect me to simply accept that just because this particular theater did not play the 'Please Turn Your CellPhones Off' statement at this particular time (I turned mine OFF in the parking lot and I am not guiding the 'minds of tomorrow'), that this person never considered the people behind her with her big ol light? And after BEING ASKED BY AN ABSOLUTE STRANGER (which most of us would be EMBarassed by), who used nothing less than what I would call an exasperated and commanding voice to stop it, just kept on doing it anyway.

No, I call that exactly what I described two paragraphs up and if you've got a problem with it please send me your address, because I want to move where you are.

To top off the evening, a veritable driving nightcap, as we waited to merge over into a busy-ass intersection (and you have no concept of busy 'til you've been to my 'town') when the jack-a__ behind me starts honking. I admit, in an inflammatory mode, I put my reverse lights on for a moment. More honking, so I start to go into the merge lane (all against my mother's best wishes) while asshole zips around me, nearly side-swiping me at the same time. (Isn't that just so mean!?) So I'm honking at him and keeping my brights on him in retribution til he moves over to the left lane to get on some other person's tail and spread joy, all of which of raises my blood pressure and make my sight grow dim - that my friend's is called road rage, and an everyday occurance, over and over, around here. All over a useless f-- that will probably die early from going everyday to the same boring, useless job that he hates, just so he can get retirement, for the last three years of his life, as he dies of coronary heart disease (turns out he didn't Really have a heart, after all) or just plain neglect.

That's whut our men die of 'round here, how 'bout yers?

It doesn't get any more real

I am under a lot of stress right now.

I haven't had to deal with something real-a-roni in a long time, maybe since I worked. It feels worse than when my Dad died, and has everything to do that overwhelming blip of Hell in my life.

I'm trying to get my Dad's medical record from his long-time doctor, in the tiny town that he lived in.

I talked to these folks last Friday and everything was going peachy-keen, as in I was going to pay for the copies and have them mailed, and then it just all went down the drain.

Basically, I started asking the medical questions that were burning on my family's mind, because I was asked if I had questions. BIG, BIG MISTAKE, because there's no way they couldn't take what I was saying to them as anything but inflammatory. I think they only reason they asked the questions they did was to try determine if I was planning to sue them. All further niceties went out the window. Gone-o.

Then it was, you speak to the lawyer (in same dinky town) that got me the piece of paper that good enough to prove who I was for the Postal Service (aka U.S. Gov't) when I just wanted Dad's mail and have it routed to my house, because the Doc office didn't think that paper was good enough for them. Even though they didn't know what that paper said and their fax machine mysteriously didn't work when I tried to fax el papier.

So now, I've been calling the lawyer's office All This Week, asking to speak to my lawyer that knows me, knew my Dad and was really kind to me while I had to take care of things earlier this year. She would be such breath of fresh air, if she's still kind, because everyone I have spoke to there have been horrible, truly mean creatures. And I so don't need that.

Not once have I been able to speak to her. I have, however, been able to speak to her vile, snoopy, nasty little minions who take my information and have the nerve to get involved, tell me its going to have to go to probate (and cost $500-1,000) to prove what my little piece of paper has already proven - that I am Dad's only daughter, sole heir, and recipient of his estate.

As if I'm going to stop calling and asking for the actual LAWYER, or listen to them. She had made that paper for me in hopes we wouldn't have to go to probate and it worked. It's like being in a crazy dream, or The Wizard of Oz, putting up with nut cases waiting to get to the wizard, or in this case, the lawyer that will hopefully work WITH me, not Against me.

Not once have these bitches (and I really mean it this time) said, 'I'm sorry for your loss,' or 'This must be difficult for you' and treated me like a human being. Quite the extreme opposite. I never saw people try to cover the asses of somebody else so hard. I have been told by several important people in my life 'Let It Go.'

That is REALLY HARD FOR ME TO DO.

As a bipolar. Ha! You better forget it.

As a daughter. I know my Dad would have gone to the ends of the Earth for me. You think a silly bitch who has nothing better to do than work the emery board could really deter me?

As a human being. They are just pissing me off now. Such a mistake, because it just makes me want to burn them a new one just for torturing me like this, and thinking they can get away with this. The gall.

I'm trying to imagine what 'let it go' would feel like. It just seems like giving in and letting Evil win. It's so hard to lay back and let it happen.

I should not have to pay hundreds of dollars to get what is rightfully mine. And it is rightfully and legally mine because I'm 'the deceased person's beneficiary' and have already proven it. They're trying to treat me like trash dirt, and have the nerve to think I'm going to accept any blah-blah coming from a minion. It just feels so personal, this being treated like shit, so you know it's so hard to not think how they should be paid for it.

My gift is writing. I have thought that if I can't afford to buy the hole to burn these assholes with, I can do other things.

Like print the name of the vile little town. These bumpkins may not understand the the power of Google/The Search Engine, but the rest of us do. I can make sure it's alway at the top.

I can write a letter. Namely, one to the Editor. I think people in the sleepy little town would be upset to find out what someone from mine thinks o' them. Or how much people in other states love their 'hospitality.' Oh, yes, I'm sure they would.

Still don't feel better. I'm like the living, walking Pissed. It takes everything within me not to tell these people off on the phone. When I get off the phone, I look to the sky and say 'I know I'm better than these people, Lord. I can't imagine being so cruel to someone with my issue. Please make it clear to these people Lord, that I am better than them. Because I am too busy keeping myself quiet, and not screaming.'

I Am Cranky.

Warning: This one's scathing.

Knowing that nobody cares how I feel, I guess I can just say anything and everything, I can just blurt out the truth. It doesn’t make a difference anyway.

The only way to withstand the acheyness, the tiredness, the almost inability to drag my body to do anything, is to nap. Even if I’m apparently too wired to sleep, I must lay down, and a lot.

I am just writhing inside with several certain somethings though. If this was a whole post to itself, which it might as well be, I would call it: ‘Psycho Pseudo-Christian Mommie Bitches and the One I Unfortunately Met One Up With Closely Recently.’ Yeah, I know I’ve b_tched about something similar in the past, but wouldn’t you know it, I’ve got another go_dam_ example for you.

I met this Mommie in the mental hospital. Yes, she was there for only one day. For me it was just as ridiculous that I was there, because I was on the crying/sad side of the illness, just a touch suicidal, and just needed my mood stabilizers tweaked, no big deal.

Although this person was there for anxiety, (is that even an ‘illness?’) literally for a one-night stay, she still managed to b_tch and moan about the hospital we were in. Clearly having no clue, (have I mentioned I’ve spent 6 months in a state institution?) she didn’t like that there was nothing on the walls and insisted on speaking to Nurse Wratchet about painting murals. She said the meeting went well. A real clueless f_ck. I know I would have saved a pointless meeting with the Warden for food, or their amazing ability to have found non-food to serve, BUT that's just me. She couldn't understand why the place wasn't 'restful' with nary even a comfortable place to sit. My God, was Martha Stewart this stupid when they threw her in the hole?

So I don’t know if it was because she thinks she’s Christian or because I was far less scary than the rest of the patrons, but she talked to me. And as a total first, because I never met anyone inside a mental hospital that ever even spoke to me outside of it, we did have a few lunches in the ‘Real World.’ And yes, I met her adorable kid.

Somehow all those lunches stopped happening. I’ve been there with other people who were ‘friends’ much longer. I assumed she had too much on her plate, and who needs friends? I know I throw them away and then pray in my church of choice for whatever hypocritical Psycho Pseudo-Christian Mommie Bi_ches pray about. I’m really starting to hate you bitches.

Two weeks ago I called her to ask about a business proposition which she quickly shot down.

Worst of all, I was so starved to talk to someone that I just vomited out the details of my life, and just kept on talking. I realized I had called her at work and suddenly was afraid she might get in trouble and she agreed that thought had occurred to her. So she says to me, “I’ll call you when I put my son down for bed,” and I agreed. Then again, “I’ll call you when I put my son down for bed.”

Here we are two weeks later and the bitch never called. If she did, she did not leave a message – which in my world is the same damn thing.

So I’m slow, and God bless me, I am naïve. The first night, actually it took me two nights to come up with the idea that perhaps she was not sincere in her statements. That this was a way to mock me, with my no job and not too worried about it, no brat(s) to deal with constantly, E.T.C., existence. Wow! That did hurt.

Then, a weekend passed, plus several days, and at that point I think I had it pinpointed. I did not ask about her son. She listened to ALL that blah-blah about me, my pets, plans, my dead Dad, but apparently there’s a button with Psycho Pseudo-Christian Mommy Bitch and I did not poke it correctly.

I remind myself where I found her. I remind myself how incredibly pathetic and sad this proves this person to be. Before I got to this point, I considered suicide, because after all, she must be right. I am so useless that she couldn’t even call back, couldn’t even send a goddamn email.

So you know where that always takes me. Since I’m not dead, since my sadness did not kill me, I’m just mad.

I consider myself the better person for not calling her back, not emailing (that would be difficult since all the that information got annihilated. It’s the first thing that happens when someone gets cut off from Tart’s life.) and not asking her how it is that Jesus Still Considers Her a Sunbeam, when in fact she’s just a mean, clueless c_nt.

Use your kid as a reason not to be friends with someone. Worse, be mean and lie to a perfectly sweet clueless person as myself with such clever acting ability that I think she just won an Oscar.

And no this post’s not for her. I don’t think she even knows I have a blog and I’m sure she’s too busy to use a search engine for fun. And if she did, I say quite joyfully, and found it, she deserves to know without me ever bothering to tell her.

Let this be a lesson to all you screwball women who hide behind your religious denomination and crap on the rest of us. If the last shit you gave that anybody cared about was the one you produced right before the birth of your precious damn kid, well then I can see why so many of you keep on producing them and being so sure it's the most important thing ever and annoying the rest of us, just in general. Um, why not get a blog, or a life? Or consider that if you are incapable of being friends with the childless, that you be the one this time to consider suicide.

But when you’re sitting scared in a damn mental hospital, even with what you think is a pseudo-real illness, please don’t speak to me, because I’d rather f_ck you up at that point, rather than do it two years later on my blog.

Turtles that Steal, and How I Sometimes Tire of living in the World of Hypocrites.

Warning: Husband thinks I am sick and therefore that is why I've become such a raging...well, you don't even need me to type it DO You? The very fact that he has finally noticed something amiss with my personality should give you Dearest Reader, clue that something really IS wrong, as I have been casually mentioning. It boggles this writer's mind.

Other Things boggling This Writer's keen and oh-so-on-it mind: I'm trying to understand one of my many stat counters, and find some listing of the all time most gone to sites. I don't expect Adventures of a JungleTart to be there, however I must admit that I find it utterly unbelievable that a website dedicated to TURTLES is raking in tens of thousands of people flocking to it. It really is enough to put the stake in my heart and twist it until the aortal vein severs. It's got some fancy, ridiculous name but when you click it, it's turtles people. I wrack my brain for the 7 people who show up on this site, and it turns you just need to post pics of the slowest, most boring critter on planet Earth. Burn, on me!


Oh, for all of you sad, so sad inside for Tart because she should run and get Essure as soon as the Labor Day weekend is over, just you stop your special tears of remissment. I have discovered 'Mommas website for completely inane women' and may I say, "Thank you Jesus that I will never have to update other (supposed) women on my pregnant condition, nor never have to figure out what TTC or whatever it is, is about." (Taken To Cursing? I'll stop there.) May I repeat, "Thank you, Jesus." Now I know why I will not be 'blessed with bundles of everlasting problems' or why I won't be leading tomorrow's youth in whatever crappy tomorrow we've already doomed them to, or my heart will never feel the joy of screaming/slapping a squalling kid in either Walmart or the one time my husband is not too tired to take me out to eat ('cause my husband would deal w/ kid, oh yes he would, and would be tired from it too. But, may I remind you WE WON'T BE!)


No, cruel life has relegated me to years of playing Guitar Hero, because I love it, doing Karaoke in the middle of the day - because I can! Sleeping to the wee hours of 3p.m. and later- because nobody cares! Not having a job and refusing to get one until I'm damn good and ready - because I'm not paying for Pampers and college education for some ingrate - NO! I'll work to help pay for credit cards that we're racked up for ME! And those little things in life, like getting to eat out ALL THE TIME, trips to Walmart buying crap we don't REALLY need, and always of course, having high speed internet for my blogging hobby and watching TV once in a while.

Most of all, getting to hold on to what sanity God has still left for me, never having to answer, 'Why?' from anyone else. I do enjoy children. From afar, when my neighbor's kid is finally let outside (I guess the air quality index/number of ions in the atmosphere is okay enough for mom to let her outside for 1.3 minutes) and she waves at me, or little babies that haven't learned to 'work' their parents yet (under 3 months) while passing by in a restaurant (I still think these parents have a lot of gall to subject the rest of us to a potentially squalling baby). I don't have to care. I know that you all are bugging Eli Lilly and all the other R&D places to cure my sh_t, so that I might reproduce and be so happy like you. No, too wrapped up in the 'important work' of making more little you's? Well, until That Day where you care about My Issues, bite me.


And may I say that the lot of you women who use this thing called motherhood to gather together and 'share the joys' of it all - NO! You are gathering together to commiserate all right, gathering to share the misery. Those websites aren't to parcel out the important (and may I say same info over and over?) information (read a book for info, crap up my internet with your bonding) and make sure you get your serving of WIC each day. No, they are to bond you all together.


May I further say, that many of you have been doing stinky, nasty things subserviated yourselves for other people for so long (even Oprah says this is precisely what you do!) that you buy the lie that this is the only way to be, if not merely because you are so dang tired but at least everybody around you is Miserable. But, see the struggling beacon of light, the woman going for life sans (that means w/out) Misery (What! No sleep deprivation! I know you'd hit me with a sauce pan if you hadn't become so weak from it yourself!) and you delicate ladies get vicious. (See what the supposed average housewife had to say about 'Slummy Mummy.' ROWR, girls!)


I hope you are fuming. I hope you are upset. I hope you are leading all of your hard-working dutifully reproducing fembots to this very site and begging my provider to shut me down.


I can't help it. I'm not rubbing it in. I'm SCRUBBING IT IN! All you people do is throw it in my face, you wanna bring it, evil Bitches? Let's bring it.


I'm sure you Christian types can clearly see that all the wonderful things in life that I take practically for granted - and I know many of you are seething with unChristian jealousy just the same, can see that I deserve my 'perverted' (can we say realistic) lifestyle. After all, if I can't, in all responsibleness, join the f'n club and shoot out the offspring like a proper b_tch, then I guess I can and should have all the amenities. Because I'm not in a club. Oh no, as the Great Christ Himself said, if my treasures were of this world, then [the people] would be fighting for me. If there was another, just one, like me they must have a touch of retardation to not have found me yet. HELLO, I'M HERE! Yes, that boat has been missed and I fight the tide of the rest of ya's, alone.

Disappointed

Sometimes my friends say out loud when they are upset. I think I will too. I am upset. My birthday has been lousy. I gave it a couple days to see it through. Yeah, I'm premenstrual I believe and I'm definitely more of a PMDD, or human explosive device.

I'm tired of making everything better for everyone else. I don't know what to say. Last night I started telling Husband details from my first psychosis. I thought for sure he knew all about it. Either he IS ADD or I never did tell him before. You cannot imagine the pain of remembering all over again, mentally reliving it.

Back to the birthday, I can name 5 or more people who no longer speak, talk, write, call or act like they ever knew me. Beside's Husband's Mom and Grandma not a single person out of 30 sent an ecard, called or acknowledged my existence, despite the fact that they all receive an email from the family site telling them it was my day. I send ecards to every one of them on their special day I even have reminders from Hallmark, too. I am heartbroken.

I don't care what anyone else thinks about this. I'm not usually anything close to the whiny that passes for youth on television today, and I don't think I'm asking for too much for acknowledgement - I didn't ask for a car, hell, I don't even expect a real card anymore. The point is, I'm not dead, yet anyway. I am still fun, I am still kind and I do feel monstrously dissed and frankly, it is hurtful.

So all you haters, rejoice. And everyone else, carry on, carry. I don't care if anyone thinks I'm being a big baby. I've been through a lot, truly. I am pissed. I'm not blogging for a while. If I knew someone with a gun I'd go have tea with them tomorrow.
Out.

That's hokie.

Oh, and here's where I am going to piss off a lot of people.

Today's headline: V.A. Tech could have saved lives

I see. If the leaders of VA Tech had a mystic medium giving them the coordinants, thought processes, and walking path of the murderer and the school would have alerted the parents of the potentially soon to be deceased to come pick up their children before they were killed would that make these cry babies happy? There is always someone AFTER a horrific, shocking, traumatic episode that occurs in this country that says, "Ya'll could have done better." You should have done this and this, and then my baby girl, my darling boy, would not be dead.

Life doesn't work like that. In your grief you have lost sight of reality. I could feel sorry for you if you would shut your trap and just grieve or be pissed in general that it happened or formed a new Society for ....Something Helpful. But to pretend that there is either a rewind button or a way to know things beforehand makes me dislike you. In all obviousness - there is no school in the country that is or was prepared for this. Period. They made me accept reality with the blue pill, why can't you?!

Further, you sent your child to a school that didn't have a SWAT Team or a Protection from A Murderer that Might Kill Lots of People Squad, or a 'people's been murdered. Come pick yers out Notification System.' And if you are so sure that they were supposed to have all those things BEFOREHAND, then YOU ARE TO BLAME FOR SENDING YOUR KID THERE, if you want to play those games. Again, you ain't thinkin' straight, and I just stopped feeling sorry for you.

Perhaps you are just not paying your educators enough to be heros as well. Isn't that what it comes to? These people, the ones educating and housing your children were never paid or trained on how to react on what to do in a shocking, medical, emergency - and how can you have the gall to demand that they do/did? If your child had never learned CPR would you tell him what a failure he was for not acting like a doctor, even though it was the only thing that could have helped in a traumatic situation? If you were a good parent you would be sad for the situation but you wouldn't be angry and make your kid responsible.

The mental case that shot your kid is responsible.

He did not 'go loco' enough beforehand to be put away. Yes, he was scary and there were human errors as to why he didn't 'get stopped.' Nobody really psycho-analyzes English papers for weirdness (not then) and they certainly didn't/ don't act on their feelings that something wasn't right (as we ALL know, why trust your feelings?!). And those silly gun laws, well it was Virginia. Heck, Ebay's worldwide. In none of these true let downs do I see it being the college's fault. Are you just too pc to blame the family? Why don't we bear down on them as hard as you feel on the school. Because that will certainly make it all better.

And look here. People get killed in this country all the time. Workers get killed on the job, soldiers get killed in the field, people die in hospitals for questionable reasons, people get murdered every so many minutes on the clock. But I never in my life heard so much whining, so much of whatever is your problem for a bunch of people that most likely Carefully Chose where they were sending their son or daughter and then PAID MONEY TO KEEP THEM IN THAT SITUATION. If there ever was a time when the true innocents, just a couple of those murdered on the hour every hour, for instance, should have one iota of the face time, the media time, any time to talk about their wishes, desires, what should have happened and make the rest of us have to wallow in it - IT SHOULD BE THEM, NOT you.

And the Prosecution rests. Touchdown! Halleluyah & AMEN, and I'm Oooouut!!

Yep. Because they're dogs.

What kind of 'man' hurts his Best Friend?

NAACP: Let Vick Play Again After Sentence

How I manage to hone in on the most infuriating headlines/stories is, well,
beyond me. This is hot off MSN today. I'm sure if you read it you will easily see why it angers me. And then of course, I tell you all about it below, if you weren't sure. :)

NAACP: Let Vick Play Again After Sentence

ATLANTA (AP) - An NAACP leader said Michael Vick should be
allowed to return to the NFL, preferably the Atlanta Falcons, after serving his
sentence for his role in a dogfighting operation.
"As a society, we
should
aid in his rehabilitation and welcome a new Michael Vick back into the
community without a permanent loss of his career in football," said R.L.
White,
president of the NAACP's Atlanta chapter. "We further ask the NFL, Falcons, and the sponsors not
to permanently ban Mr. Vick from his ability to bring hours of enjoyment to
fans
all over this country."
White said the Falcons quarterback made a
mistake and should be allowed to prove he has learned from that mistake. On
Monday, Vick said through a lawyer that he will plead guilty to a federal
charge
of conspiracy to travel in interstate commerce in aid of unlawful
activities and
conspiracy to sponsor a dog in an animal fighting venture.
Three Vick associates have pleaded guilty to the conspiracy charge and say
Vick provided nearly all the gambling and operating funds for the "Bad Newz
Kennels" dogfighting enterprise. Two of them also said Vick participated in
executing at least eight underperforming dogs, raising the possibility of
the
animal cruelty charges.
Last month, state and local leaders of the
National
Association for the Advancement of Colored People urged the public
not to rush
to judgment in the Vick case. The civil rights organization said
animal rights
groups, talk radio and the news media were vilifying the
embattled athlete, and
that his team and corporate sponsors were prematurely
punishing Vick.
White
said the Atlanta chapter supports Vick's decision
to accept a plea bargain if
it's in his best interest, but he questioned the
credibility of Vick's
co-defendants, saying an admission of guilt might be
more about cutting losses
than the truth.
"At this point, you're not
looking at guilt or innocence,"
White said, referring to the possible
harsher sentence Vick could have received
had he taken his case to trial and
been found guilty. "You're thinking, 'What I
better do is cut my losses and
take a plea.' But if he saw this as the best
thing to do at this point for
his future, then I think he made the correct
choice."
White said he
regretted that the plea deal will mean all the facts
of the case might never
be known.
"Some have said things to save their own
necks," White said.
"Michael Vick has received more negative press than if he
had killed a human
being."
White said he does not support dogfighting and
that he considers
it as bad as hunting.
"His crime is, it was a dog," White
said.

I got somethin' to saa-ay - I'm skewering Mr. Vick to-daa-ay:

Poor Mr. Vick, obviously a victim of his co-torturers and their need to dump on his sorry near-blameless self. He should not be banned, he should be embraced. And when are we going to hear about his torried youth, the animals that terrified his dreams? Why I'm sure psychologically, Mr. Vick did not even realize that he was violently using animals and completely destroying them for his own pleasure - perhaps its some Odipus complex and he was just taking out 'issues' from way back when!

So you see, it’s no big deal because he only tortured ‘a dog’ or several. May I remind, that Jeffrey Dahlmer tortured animals before going for ‘bigger game,’ as well did many of our other most repulsive offenders. Well we can HARDLY compare the two, because while Mr. Dahlmer had nothing better to do than eat young men, Mr. Vick clearly has a day job! We cannot compare, because he just did it for FUN, blowing off steam, its so hard being one of the boys, or WHATever the reason, which by the way, he has not disclosed to you or I, John and Jo-Jo Public!! Which gives me no reason but to forgive....uh...uh....'cause WHY??

I’ve made it clear that here in JungleTart land, we couldn’t care less about football or any of its entirely overpaid players, many of which in my humble opinion have an attitude problem right about the time they are paid millions to play a game once a week, endorse products that children are interested in, somehow becoming heroes to them and the armchair, beer-drinking warriors that sired them: they make more money than is justifiable. Period.

In other words, call me a freak, but Mr. Vick has not provided me with one second of enjoyment, let alone an hour or more. Watching him fry or suffer greatly would help that situation, but let’s be real. Apparently it’s all no big deal to these NAACP normies, so WHAT do I know? Let's just let him off the hook (silly ol' dogs. Doesn't everybody abuse the f_k out of their animals? This is ridiculous.)

For football players, and other ‘players’ of their ilk, they become suddenly better than the rest of us (as rich people inherently are) and the rules don’t apply: not with drinking, drugs, the laws of gravity, and in this vile case, FOR FUN, because you can’t tell me the asshole needed the money, they tortured both dogs and cats. A person who even derives enjoyment out of such things should probably be locked up just for being a psychological deviant and no, I’m not talking good ol every day mental illness, I mean criminal evil.

Apparently, he hasn’t even been charged with the animal cruelty. Since this is all the media ever talks about, I thought that’s what this was all about. What are they afraid of? Charge him! What a country of plea-deals and whining, something is going on when we can’t hear him say he was guilty for it too. Yes, I think he is. I’m not sure how you commit half a crime and not all of it. Whatever.

This is a country with over-flowing ‘shelters,’ that must euthanize millions of cats and dogs every year, where you need a TV host to remind people to spay and neuter their animals because this simple information has not sunk into the American psyche.

Where abuse of animals is about on the same level as abusing children in most people’s minds, unless you ask them to say something out loud: it doesn’t matter and we don’t want to hear it. I say: that’s right they are both the same: reprehensible – keep your filthy enraged perverted hands off the puppy and off the baby. How hard? Judging on the daily, every day American outcomes, real hard, very hard, near impossible.

Why care if animals are hurt? They're silent, make no difference in your life, and unless you hurt and provoke them, no one's ever gonna know the difference. Unless you get caught. Damn it. And isn't it about the same for children? Oh, but this has NOthing to do with that. People give me crap for not having kids, but at least I can properly and completely take care of my furbabies, even with a mental illness. Um....NOT GETTING WHY ITS SO HARD, unless there's just more mental challenges for some people than formerly thought.

Why on Earth would the NAACP promote Vick? I am just enraged that some idiot has the nerve to tell us all to forgive him and could he please have his job back and could all those sponsors he had give him his job (money) back. No! No, no, no, no! I’m trying to imagine the kind of person that would electrocute, strangle, drown, and God knows what else to a dog. I know I can’t wait to invite him to my next shindig. He has not expressed one bit of remorse. Now, if he’s bowed b4 his maker and done so, I’m glad his conscience is so clean. He’s never asked me, Jo-Jo Public to do so, so gee I’m not feelin’ it. Un-ban him, and I say PETA lovers pour red paint on every pair of Nike’d feet they see. I’d like to see the SOB terrorized by a couple of pit bulls and throw some clawing cats his way. After all, its only a dog, only a cat.

More responses to the Slate thing (Do-ho-hooo-hoozies!)

Hey thank you to Mysti's comment to my last post. It's your's and this lady who actually posted on Slate (boo Slate) that both really did make my day. Of course, all things attract numnuts and I've quite a ringer below. So, I had to burn her a new hole. I know, wasting my skills on the undeserving, but that really is life, no?

This from Ms. Dee, concerning the response I made (it's in the last post.):

WOW!! You got them tiger!! You did it, you got to the bare minimum of the point. I am impressed indeed!
While wasting precious time in and out on here I have read some wonderful post, some mediocre and some down right stupidly painful ones. But yours..... it had volume, I could mentally hear it..... I'd mention more about my trials and tribs as a working and/or sahm but you might steal it for your book!! LOL..... Thanks for giving me the closure I needed to end this now I can go relax after dishes, one more load of laundry, and if time permits a game of yahtzee with my teens who still dig doing things with me. HMMM? Not bad for a Slummy Mummy!!

My response to her:

Mwanh! I love ya, and you made my day! Go rock those dice, and tell those kids it's always cool to give a hug and smooch to such a cool mom!
Sincerely,
MVZ


So this attracted a shark. Perhaps she thought I was too 'nice' to say anything back? Calueless wonder:

Re: Reviewer: Quell the Slacker Voice! I say: A Bunch of You Need a Dose of Reality, Sweetie.by mitfish 08/05/2007, 12:30 AM #
Favorites Reply
I should have stopped reading at (no kids yet). I'm laughing at the "yet". Would love to see what you had to say a short 5 months after "yet" was over. Yeah, I don't like smug, holier than thou mommies either. But I'm starting to understand where the attitude is coming from. It's from dealing with people with yours. I have 2 children,(3 and 1 years old) and I have 3 advanced degrees. I got much more opportunity to be a slacker getting those degrees than I ever do now!
mit

AND, a new hole is burned. Yes, I really posted this and I see no reason not to be super proud. I couldn't help myself and God did not stop me:

Whatever mit. Your response makes no sense to me. Are you b_tching because a person with no children would make a response? Tell me, why is it I should care about Your reality? I think I have done government, taxpayers and my family a favor for staying on birth control, considering that psychosis while pregnant is a real REALITY for ME! What the h_ll do you know about THAT?

I haven't yet begun to clutter up Slate or much better reading venues with the truth about my existence, and when I do I won't give a damn that you're picking up binkies or trying to convince yourself that you made the right decisions.

I know bipolar, I know counter culture, I know the underbelly of society like the endless unhelpfulness of the state mental hospital system. I offer my two cents because there obviously needs to be somebody who can WRITE (hello, got MY degree AFTER a killer psychosis and still went on to be human and get a degree, you smug, useless/clueless f_ck!) and stand up for people who clearly are just getting their footing, a voice and (gasp!) writing books!

As an almost literary aside, for all the cutting on the 'energy' of the book being reviewed, well, I think that was all the reviewer really had to say that had anything to do with the BOOK, the way it was written. The rest was jealousy from all those who wish they could wear pajamas and blah, blah, blah. Jealousy is ugly, and is near impossible to hide, not in this pathetic review or your pathetic life. That's right, for all that people like you want to insinuate that mine and thousands if not millions more people's lives are pathetic I say to you, 'Hah! YOU are pathetic, jealous, and Gosh Darn it, nobody DOES like you!'

When you're crying alone somewhere in your house after hubby went to work, just remember burning bridges with those clueless people that at least know they they are honest with themselves might just have been the worst thing you've done. Why is it the wrong people feel driven to suicide? Instead, the rest of you keep on holding on, boring the rest of us, and crapping up/populating the planet. You could have 5 degrees and still not rectify or explain to me why the hell you've got to do any of that.
Sincerely,
MVZ

AND that covers it, so far. :)

Mysti, my dear, you know there are so many blowholes, boring people (you know, the Perfects that think we care about their crap), mean people, deluded people (well we're getting on the fringe of the ones I actually like!) that keep on blogging, writing, expressing themselves and I just can't see a reason why Your Voice, Your Thoughts, Your Feelings, Your Illness(es) should not be out there! It's not about comparison, it's about those idiots having the nerve to clutter up my internet and life with their cr_p and you not getting to because, frankly you're too polite or didn't want to bother someone or whatever it is. I get told all the time to 'keep on writing, be yourself, don't care what others think' by numnuts I've never heard of, never been to their site and probably won't. So GO FOR IT! It is good, it is patriotic, it is correct before God, that you have a voice and say whatever you WANT! Please repeat as necessary.

Let not one of us be deterred because of what the outside world thinks. I know for my part, Clearly this world was not made, not crafted, NOT for me, and it really doesn't seem to care about me. Which gives me enormous leeway to tell them off when necessary and just basically do what I want.

What are they gonna do? Put me in the Quiet Room, strap me down, and feed/stick me in the bottom w/ Thoriazine? Leave me frightened, helpless, and potentially hopeless? Force to me to be in a criminal environment as a complete innocent sick person for months on end? DONE IT ALL. This means I'm potentially scareless and I find that funny. Long live the 'Tart. I haven't even begun to fight. I owe that world nothing, yet I still stay and give, put up with it and often forget how it has sc_ewed me. It is quite freeing when I remember! Thanks to all the a__holes that made that possible!

Of course, that's not YOU, dear reader! :) Thank YOU for your support. (Of course, if you're not giving support, I don't want it!) (Bartles & James, circa 1980's, w/ 'changes.') The Potential Fact that you exist means somebody reads this. Because, I write it anyway!!! Ha!Have...a...great...DAY! :)