Continuing my tradition of giving little tidbits of advice that might help our Dear Bitter Readers….

Quick Tip #2: Cat Fights

If, at 4 in the morning, you hear the ungodly noises of cats fighting outside your window, do NOT under any circumstances climb out the window to run them off, even if your bedroom windows, like mine, appear easy to climb out of being reasonably large and low to the ground.

1. It’s likely that in the dark and your sleep-hazed frame of mind, you could step on dog shit and/or the dead bird left for you by the member of your household involved in said cat fight.
2. Said cat, being in a hissy state, might not feel endebted or even slightly grateful to be picked up and hauled toward the window.
3. Finding oneself outside a locked house, in one’s jammies, at 4 in the morning, holding a hissy cat, one might find it much harder to climb INTO the window than it was to climb OUT.

Nobody said gaining life experience was always what we expected it would be. It was a very very very long night last night.

The Culprit

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Being in a weird mood, as I often am, and perusing my stats, which I often do, I came up with an idea for a little game. I decided to write a poem using ONLY words in my webstats under “keywords used on search engines”. There were 95 words, and I used all of them. used each one only once, and did not add any words. Think of it as Webstat Refrigerator Poetry.

It sounded like hysterical fun, and then once I started, it was much harder than I thought! When I got down to having 12 words left, I got rather desperate. :))

So… I challenge you to try it! Let me know your results, and if you post them on your blog I’ll add a link here.

BTW, it will become evident to you in a moment that I’m not a poet.

why phone? … i want space

women do plural duty like cards
things picked before would die
if not dr. moller, than who?
poems make my blindness smarter
dont!

you spanked while in me vista
what a very flubby fat ass
does gel stop the will
cramp with masturbating in school
yahoo!

i can read while waiting
to take jeremy brett sunday
flying to florida for paul
address who in tulsa oklahoma?
bingo!

ten bitter questions become 100
about masterbation, smoking, blogging, of layouts
blogs are cartoons and blogger be messenger
blogspot is id, jury, meme, wordpress hosts
…clipart available!

Okay it sucks a little, but it was fun to try! Now you try!

• Hex My Ex: An Ode To Keywords

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Peety over at peety-passion.com posted a very intelligent article on the practice of plural relationships. But what I’m thinking is… relationships are hard work. If you’re good at them, it takes a lot of effort to stay in touch with your partner’s physical/emotional/spiritual well-being and make it a priority.

If you’re bad at relationships, with more than one person to deal with, you’d be up a serious shit-creek without the proverbial paddle.

I think this is the real reason that Mormons called it off. Of course, there’s also the fact that most Christian sects don’t particularly encourage sex, so the idea of having lots and lots of sex gives them terminal heebie-jeebies. If you’re a Christian and you have lots of sex, don’t write and yell at me about this statement. But on a side note: good for you.

I don’t really mind if people want to have plural marriages. When you’re young and sexy, I think it has a certain appeal. But when you get older, wiser, and more bitter, the only advantage would seem to be having a second wife to do the dishes while you finish blogging.

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Being a women, I feel qualified to tell people “what women really want”.  And when I say ‘people’, I mean men, being the only non-women people there are, and women don’t need to be told what other women want, because we already know… its in the handbook.

My birthday is coming up next month, and my husband has been telling me to put some stuff on my wish list, because he’s given up on guessing what I want.  (Good for him, by the way.)

But what I really really want isn’t something I can put on my wish list, because I don’t even know if it’s possible to get one of these anymore….

If you don’t know who MacGuyver is, I really don’t know how to talk to you.

My favourite sister-in-law (heck one of my favourite people) we call “Susan-Fucking-MacGuyver”.  She’s got one of everything in this Mary Poppins bag of hers, and I have no doubt that she could escape from anywhere without much todo, because she’s the only woman I know who carries duct tape with her.  I’m not making this up.

Tease her as I might, I’m secretly jealous.  She’s prepared for everything.  But, I don’t have a Mary Poppins bag.  My poor little purse is miniscule in proportion, but lo and behold I find out there’s this MacGuyver Tool Kit available.  This is SO what I want.

If I had this tool kit, I could do anything.  I could be fearless.  Hell it would be the next best thing to being a pirate.  I have never in my life done anything remotely like swashbuckling, but I think if I had this toolkit, I might.

This post was inspired in part by TheWishfulWriter.  The dream, however, is entirely mine.

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Jayne, it should be obvious “What’s Going on in Florida,” sweetness: Bingo, Spankings, and, um, Taking Matters in Hand.  But, Hmmm. “Will I become smarter if I stop masturbating?”  Oh, dear.

I started to leave a little comment….when I’d actually done research, realized I couldn’t stop myself with just a comment…..

This guy–and I know it IS a guy; just feel it in my bones–has either been fired from yet another job for some dumbass thing he’s done such as “spanking the monkey” while on the clock, OR his picture was among those featured in The Smoking Gun’s LABOR DAY TRIBUTE (of sorts) TO THE AMERICAN WORKER.

These bozeaux and bozettes were arrested, hauled down to the pokey, fingerprinted and (smile) mugshot for crimes committed while still wearing their work uniforms, ferchristsake. (And don’t get all churchy about my cussin’ — one of them was employed, coincidentally, by a Tampa FLORIDA church.)

I didn’t investigate to learn whether said crimes were against their employers or, mayhap, they popped out to knock off a liquor store on lunch break. 

BTW, to the inquirer: “No, stopping masturbating will NOT make you smarter.”  Despite what parents have told countless generations of young boys about blindness, someone’s parent(s) ignored the very real possibility of heriditary idiocy, lied and has made the poor boy believe wanking (and not their southern tendencies toward familial intermarriages for several generations) which is to blame. Don’t believe a word of it; I stopped briefly.  It only makes one cranky.

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