2008 is over but the scandals aren't

It wasn’t a horrible year as long as I kept myself from watching the news. Well, it’s nice to think back to happier times like the presidential race, especially when it finally ended. Come to think of it, this was one insane year and instead of going away the scandals are intensifying by the day. Everyone has a scandal going down. I predict an even crazier year for 2009. Just wait until Bush and Cheney finish their book. O.J. Simpson’s publisher signed them for a memoir entitled, “If We Did Do Any Cover-Ups, This Is How We’d Do Them.”

I think Illinois has the biggest scandal of the year next to that slut who wants us to believe she’s such a crack whore she lost track of her own kid for an entire month. I guess she didn’t realize her daughter was missing until her period came again, and no one was around to take a beating? Truth is, I was hoping the discovery of the body would prove someone else did it, so I could sit back and watch Nancy Grace’s show get cancelled.



I like to stand on the side of justice, but damn. The woman has been pounding this thing into the ground with the spurs on her boots. It takes the fun right out of channel-surfing. It’s gotten to the point that my 7-yr-old daughter wants to know why this is still news. When a girl who likes watching movies over and over says a TV show is too repetitive, that girl is probably right. Just once I’d like to hear Nancy Graceful say something in a non-accusatory manner that makes absolutely no sense at all. A few drinks before taping a show wouldn’t kill her. In fact, running away from the Anthony case altogether would probably add a few years to her life, or at least take a few off her face. I’m sure before the spackling begins it’s a scary sight. I’ll keep her in my prayers. Some day she’s bound to screw up.

So little time, so much to spew. This was supposed to be about Governor Blagojevich but the story gets richer by the hour. I just can’t keep up. One thing I can tell you is he isn’t hiding out in a cave somewhere in Illinois. I really thought by now, you know…

Even after hearing his name all over the news for weeks I still can’t say it correctly to save my life. I should be on a short bus, but fortunately there’s no room for me. They’re all filled to capacity with those “special” people who are working so hard for America. There’s an army of short buses in Washington. They outnumber the cabs 4 to 1. And one of them went to Minnesota, only to be parked there for nearly 2 months now. The driver is really fatigued. At this point he doesn’t care who is getting on the bus. The meter’s been running so long, all he can think is either Al Franken or Norm Coleman owes him a HUGE stack of quarters. I hope they’ll have enough left over, but after the lawyers take their cut, I don’t know.

What I do know? The short bus always has room for one more politician. They’re all retarded. I’m still waiting for the governor of Montana to make good use of our surplus and send us all a nice fat check for sticking around. That’s right. We should be compensated. All of those traitors who left for higher wages need to be taught a lesson.
Come on, Schweitzer. Doling out the surplus could be one of those heart-warming scandals you rarely hear about. Since we still have no sales tax (and I love you for that) you can’t deny this estimated $295 million dollar surplus was amassed mostly from:

· The thousands of gamblers who frequent their nearest video poker machines on a regular (daily) basis, conveniently located a block away from wherever they reside. They’re everywhere - in bars, gas stations, restaurants, public schools… Well, maybe not the schools yet. It’s really a shame, and a dark cloud hanging over the Native American culture. It’s killing them that they don’t have dibs on the casino cartel like they do in Minnesota. How rotten are we? It’s all dirty money I tell you. And I wouldn’t mind getting back some of what my ex threw away in 1999. In his defense he thought Prince was right and we wouldn’t live to see the year 2000.

· How about those underpaid state employees? Sure, compared to your average wage they’re raking it in. And they’re pretty much the only workers around who get health insurance and paid holidays off. The rest of us slave away for peanuts, and forget about insurance. On second thought they’re getting too much. Let’s cut out their benefits. If I have to date a doctor to get a free exam, so should they. Not that I ever have, but it’s a nice thought and kind of kinky.

· The property taxes are so high, you need to contact NASA to see how much you currently owe. You have to do this twice a year and get the latest satellite image of your bill because the thing keeps moving further and further away. Everyone pays late. Over the summer some rich asshole attempted to pull a friend’s house right out from underneath her. She came up with the money in time but damn, she’s lived in that house her entire life and almost lost it. Unbelievably, she’s a teacher. The lesson: If enough time has passed and you have some extra cash you can take a house away from a poor family. Isn’t that awesome? Well, that and teachers will always be poor.

If the surplus were divided equally among all residents we’d each get $295 dollars. I know. That’s $1,475 bucks I could take from my children. What? They get enough as it is! You should’ve seen Christmas this year. Since we’re inevitably headed for a depression, I wanted to give them some good memories to get them through the hard times at the orphanage.

Oh yeah. Happy New Year!

Barack isn't just Biden his time

It’s hard to believe it’s finally over. And I was surprised we had a clear winner on election night. No hanging cads, lawsuits, or turning to relatives who just happen to be governing a contested state. Jeb who? Exactly.

In fact, right after Obama won I had mentally prepared myself for the Republicans to come back with a big, “Oh no you didn’t!”

Thank God that didn’t happen. Everyone hates it when the rich try to act ghetto.

It was an exciting night, and refreshing to see so many happy faces on TV. Well, except for Oprah.

And Sarah Palin. For some reason I expected her to grab the mike after John McCain’s thoughtful speech and say, “It’s not over yet America. We haven’t even made it to the swimsuit competition!”

Maybe it was the tears in her eyes, I don’t know.

Now that we have a new President working in the wings and giving the world hope, I couldn’t help but notice this past week the minorities have been out and about. It’s cool that they’ve come out of hiding.

There is only one Asian guy in my town. Just one. Sad but true. Welcome to Central Montana. He is a friendly and nice guy and everyone likes him but he’s very soft spoken. So I couldn’t believe what I witnessed in the grocery store the other day. He was standing at the meat counter, literally yelling his order to the butcher, “Yes! Three pounds! Ground beef! Thank you very much!”

It’s heartwarming to see such confidence. I assume this is taking place all over America and Kenya. It’s too bad we can’t bottle up this morale, put a big bow on it, and give it to Bush as a going away present.

The Shit List: Undecided Voters

On occasion I make a mental note of certain groups of people I hold a good amount of contempt for. But why keep it bottled up inside? So I’ve decided to share my feelings. It isn’t hatred - I just really dislike these people. I’m calling it ‘The shit list’ for lack of a better title. ‘People I really dislike’ sounds too lame, and ‘People who should disappear off the face of the earth’ or ‘People I hold a good amount of contempt for’ are too long, and that last one just plain sucks.

Watching the presidential race has been so weird this year. I can’t remember a race ever being this dramatic. It’s like a soap opera except it’s real life, which is pretty awful when I think about it that way. I hate soaps, but I do enjoy vanilla scented body wash. I also hate polls for many reasons but mainly because it’s always really close, and you’ve got those undecided voters who could swing it either way, yet they insist on remaining undecided right up until the very end just to keep the rest of us guessing. Thanks, guys! So we don’t really know how it will end, but I’m ready for it to end now.

Here’s my advice for undecided voters. The first time in my life I had a tough decision to make I went to my dad. Maybe it was something like deciding whether or not to wear those hideous leg warmers to school because they were considered hip, but whatever and whenever it was, it was a tough decision at the time. So I asked my dad how he decided what to do when he was confused about something. He said, “You’ve got to weigh it out.”

He held out his hands, palms up, like he was a human scale and literally showed me how it worked. “You put all the good on this side, put all the bad on the other side. If the bad outweighs the good, it’s the wrong choice. If the good outweighs the bad, that’s probably the right choice. Run with it.”

The leg warmers helped to keep my legs warm that winter.

So there you go. You think about everything you already know, and find out everything you don’t yet know but want to know. Then you weigh it out. It’s not fool-proof, but it’s a formula and better than just sitting on your haunches. So please, and I’m probably speaking for most political junkies here, don’t remain undecided another day.

We’ve still got over two weeks left before the standard national voting day, but that doesn’t mean the undecideds should keep telling the pollsters they have no clue who they are voting for. Everyone’s identity I assume is kept confidential, so what’s keeping them from spitting it out? Are they really still confused or are they just paranoid? Are they on drugs? Alcoholics? Is there a Nazi in the room when they get the call? I give up.

Yeah, I know. Polls are usually wrong anyway. I should just turn off the TV and go to church.

Magic beans, and what not...

I have this crazy sleep schedule. After a hard day’s work I lie on the sofa to watch some TV and end up passing out for a few hours. Then I catch a few more hours of sleep in the early morning until the phone rings at around nineish. It’s always a computer guy named Jim or gal named Jill who wants me to upgrade my cable to satellite or extend my imaginary warranty, or even consolidate my imaginary credit card debt. Point is, I could sleep through a tornado or monkey slapping my face. But for some reason I always jump out of bed and a deep sleep whenever the phone rings. So that works for me much better than an alarm clock. I’m pretty much awake the rest of the day. At least, until I get home from work. That’s how it’s been for the last few years or so. And now I need to change all of that. In fact, I just took a sleeping pill so I need to finish this as quick as a Vegas wedding so I don’t pass out and drool all over the keyboard. But that’s not a real scenario. Pills only seem to work when someone wants to get high. Well, I just need to hurry.

So my old boss called me about a week ago. I was his office manager for six months in ‘03-‘04 before he realized he could no longer afford to pay me. And regarding the business, he said, “Please! Just take it!”

Since then he’s started and apparently shut down another business that he ran without any outside help, and again started up an entirely new one. Now back to the phone call. I didn’t think much of it since he calls occasionally to see how things are going with me and/or needs a favor. One time I ended up selling sno-cones around town with one of his daughters from a golf cart because he got busy and needed me to take his place. And, he said I would pick up some extra cash. That only lasted about a month. After expenses and splitting the profit with his daughter, I raked in ten dollars a week.

Here’s how the convo went…

“Hey Alicia, sorry to call so early but I need to run something by you. Got a minute?”

“Uh… yeah. What time is it?”

“Ha ha. Hey, I’ve had this new business now for close to a year and it’s doing really well.”

“Tons of dough, huh?” Yawn.

“Like I said, it’s doing well. I have a new office in town, and it would be great if you would come work for me.”

“I’ll have to think about it. Can I keep my current job? ‘Cause I don’t really want to quit it.”

Translation: “I’m scared to death to quit a secure job when any time I’ve ever worked for you it’s only been temporary.”

“Hey, that’s no problem. We can work around your other job. Just think it over, and if you decide you want to do it give me the earliest and latest times you can work.”

Translation: “This I know. I will be your boss again. Muahahahahaha.”

“Sure, I’ll think it over and get back to you.”

Translation: “Oh shit! You really are serious, aren’t you?”

So I called him back on Friday, and he says this will eventually turn into full time with benefits.

Okay. Whatever!

I start first thing Monday morning. Wish me luck.

Is it summer yet?

I awoke this morning to my 6-yr-old daughter waving a little package of Scooby fruit snacks in my face. She said, “Mommy, this is the last one. Can I have it?”

Damn, those are some good fruit snacks. Really sugary, but they sure are packed full of flavor. I liked the green ones best.

What was even more surprising than their yumminess and my daughter's graciousness was seeing the sun shining brightly through the curtains. Yes, the sun is back. Finally. It’s been too long. Days and weeks of nothing but clouds and dark skies. So I peeked outside and now the sky looks like this…



And everything is green. It's lovely. So today when I drop my “ride” off at the shop to get it all spruced up for our vacation (it has to be at least drivable) I’ll walk home with the sun shining down on me. This is good. Up until I saw the forecast last night I was expecting rain and hail like we had just a few days ago. I’m much too delicate to get caught in a cloudburst. Well, not really. But my daughters are. And they’re stuck with me today, so it helps that the weather is cooperating. It’s kind of windy out there but that’s alright. It’s supposed to get up to 75 degrees F. I’d take 70 at this point. It’s been too cold for too long. I’m hoping eventually I won’t have to run the furnace at night just to stay warm. Is it summer yet? Could it be? We’re usually a toasty 80 or 90 degrees by now. I can’t remember the last time it snowed in the mountains during June. I’m glad I'm not in the higher elevations right now. Ha ha, those suckers. I hope they have satellite dishes or something to help pass the time during road closures. Arts and crafts, perhaps? They probably just drink a lot of microbrew in their cabins and have sex all day long, to the romantic sounds of Hank Williams.




So anyway, it’s been really cold here, especially at night and my furnace runs on heating oil. When we first moved in this place it was cheaper than our natural gas bill had been, and way cheaper than electric heat. But the cost has been mirroring the gas prices and increasing the same, so when I filled up the tank the last time it was nearly $4/gal. Woah. Normally I’d be set until January of 2009. But I’ve already burned through ¼ of the tank, so now I might make it to December. “Guess what kids? You get heat for Christmas! That’s right, you get a warm house! Isn’t that awesome?”

Is it too late to impeach Bush? I think we’ve got about what, seven months left before he leaves office? Hmm. Don’t tell that to Dennis Kucinich. He might be on to something. Wouldn’t want to break his spirit or anything.

How about that Al Gore? I think I’m starting to see a pattern here. Do you see it too? It’s good to be Independent.

I had a few different blogs going on in my head yesterday at work, then I came home to do more work, and the next thing I knew I was on the couch falling asleep with the TV on. Shhhh, don’t tell Al Gore. I’m really trying to be green. Is this a good look for me?



I think the ruffled puffy blouse is so gay. Country girls wear plaid.

Sex Dream = Nightmare

Unfortunately, I almost never have an awesome dream without it ending in a terrible way. The dream in my post “Sick of Dreaming” was mild compared to this one. But the one I’m talking about today I had quite some time ago, which gives you an idea of just how memorable it was.

So I’m having the best sex dream I’ve ever had. It’s so real I don’t even know I’m actually dreaming, so it’s normal and no big deal. It’s when I’m rubbing my man’s head of hair during and after the big O that I start to realize something isn’t right. My man didn’t have a balding gene so I was puzzled, and looked down at his head. Then I thought, Shit! This isn’t my man! Um, what the hell is going on here?

So that’s when I realized I was dreaming. And as I’ve said before, it’s at that point when things get really crazy.

I couldn’t wake up, as badly as I wanted to… I tried to push this stranger off of me, but he was terribly heavy. He wouldn’t budge and his weight was crushing my chest. I couldn’t breathe, and nothing freaks me out like that! The dream had definitely evolved into a nightmare at this point. I tried to tell him to get off of me but I couldn't talk since my lungs felt like they were caving in. So I kept at it, trying to push him off until he finally got the hint and rolled over. That’s when I saw his face, and jumped out of bed in shock.

Wait for it…










Um, alright, this was the guy:

Jim Belushi.


I still couldn’t wake up, as badly as I wanted to… It only continued on a downward spiral from that point. I looked at the TV facing me at the end of the bed, and guess who was on? Oprah, that’s who, and she starts talking directly to me through the TV set like she is God or something. She tells me to go check on my kids. So I put on my panties, bra, robe and slippers in a hurry because Oprah said so (it was a nightmare after all but I don't think she could actually see my nakedness) and went down the hall to a staircase that scared the crap out of me. It was supported by ropes bolted into the ceiling, and the stairs were just wooden planks connected to all of these ropes. I’m also afraid of heights in my dreams because I could barely walk down these freaky stairs. Talk about scary shit! I thought I was going to fall and break my neck. After what seemed like an eternity I get to the floor which is in a dining room, and my kids are all seated around the table. My mother is there too, and I’m suddenly made aware that this is her house. I immediately hate my new step-dad, who is giving me dirty looks, and wonder why I’m a grown woman living with my mother. And having sexual relations in her house?! Oh my god, did they hear me?!

Then she starts grilling me about the guy in my room, and the moment she asks me if we’re going to get married, I wake up in a cold sweat.

Okay, well… the nightmare had a good beginning. I like to fondly remember the part before I nearly died with flattened lungs and pretend it was not that guy.

The Comeupance Committee

Thanks for stopping by. Here is something I originally wrote last fall.


The fact that the word comeupance is in the dictionary literally boggles my mind. What a strange word. On the odd occasion I will hear it on TV. As an American it just seems so foreign, and way too classy for a simple country girl like me to ever use. But I‘m going to try, and just dive right into it for the sake of learning a new word.

Comeupance. It's a noun which means "an outcome (good or bad) that is well deserved."

This raises a question. Who decides if an outcome is well deserved? Is there a Comeupance Committee somewhere we should know about? If there is, I want the number. There are times when it could be helpful to consult with a trained professional regarding the use of comeupance.

One night not too long ago I was out driving alone on a highway and had quite the scare. It began when I started up a large hill and had to turn down my headlights because a big tractor-trailer was just starting down the hill in the opposite lane. Just a few seconds later, I saw a giant doe heading straight for my windshield on the driver's side!

Gasp! A doe. A deer. A suicidal female deer.

She came up so fast, I didn't even have time to think. Gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands, I quickly turned to the right and then back to the left. I missed her by only a split second. I kind of saw her face, but it was a blur since I was so busy… ya know… trying not to die and all. In that brief moment I think I heard her cry out, "Buck is a cheating bastard!"

My life didn't pass before me. Now I know for certain that whole idea is just a Hollywood hoax. It did take me a few minutes to calm down. I continued on, but slowed down to 60 mph with my left hand on the wheel and my right hand on my chest. I was breathing so hard I could feel my lungs. When things like this happen, you don't know how you're going to react in the moment of truth. Lucky for me, my Under Roos stayed dry. I was driving my old and very heavy GMC Suburban (hey, it's paid for), which is long enough to support it's height and not like those popular SUVs that are box-shaped and feather-light. Is that maybe why I didn't roll over and die just like that movie The Weather Man?

I'm not ready for a funeral yet.

I haven't got any thing to wear! What would they put on me? I'd like a fancy casket so I’d need something that doesn't make me look like trailer trash arriving at a ball. I have to look my best when I go to that fancy ballroom in the ground.

On second thought, scratch the fancy casket. All a country girl needs is a plain wooden box. No, a plaid wooden box. Yes, that’s much more appropriate.

Would you say, after getting the crap scared out of me in a life/death situation, that I got my comeupance? Are you on the committee?