The adoption option

Whenever I think on this subject one thing that really gets my blood boiling, especially since half of those ‘special’ people who ‘work for us’ in Washington are ‘gay on the side’… is that in most places in the US a gay couple can’t even adopt. Well, maybe there aren’t any laws banning it unless you’re in Arkansas, or was that Alabama and what’s the difference? Even so, they’d rather place a waiting child into the hands of a 100-yr-old couple who cane youngin’s at will.


This…


…And this could happen to a child near you.

Yes, maybe some do deserve a good caning. 99% probably need one, but try telling that to a social worker. Seriously though, no kid should ever, ever have to change a bedpan…

When using the word ‘gay’ I’m talking about men of course. Gay women can go to a sperm bank so I’m not even acknowledging them here. I just think it’s so totally unfair. Plus, I’m not related to any gay women so call me biased if you want. It doesn’t change the inequality.

Gay people are just like us. Except they’re gay, which a lot of people get hung up on because according to their bibles they’ll burn in hell right alongside everyone who lies, cheats, steals and listens to extremists. I think what that means is when the world ends the entire city of Washington, D.C. will turn into a giant lake of fire and everyone tuned into Rush Limbaugh will suddenly feel their heads explode.

I know it’s up to each state to decide whether or not to allow or ban a gay couple from providing just as much love as a straight one to children who truly need it. So I wish they’d come to their senses and look at it from a logical perspective. Why must the bible always be used as a divisive device when there’s so much we could learn from it? To be more specific, it clearly states in Revelations that in the year 2012 Washington, D.C. will turn into a lake of fire and Rush will reveal to his listeners he is the son of Lucifer himself causing heads to violently explode. Then, according to the mother of one of my daughter’s friends*, Yellowstone National Park will erupt and destroy us all.

*Ask your kids what they’ve heard lately at school but sit down first.

Of course before that happens, President Obama (who was in Hawaii hosting a party for his party) will lead his followers to the new city of Jerusalem where Senator Max Baucus will finally be free to dance in the daisies and put flowers in his hair. But not before letting everyone know he still opposes gay marriage, adding he just doesn’t think it’s fair to ban it.

So Montana Max will still be one of many confusing Democrats, but since he’s taken more pro-Israel PAC money than anyone it gives him a free pass to enter the city of gold. What I mean is, since he’s been such a huge supporter of Israel he’ll breeze right in while Rush burns for all eternity… the fact that Max has received well over $319,000 in his career from those contributions alone is just a side note.


How much to get Maxi out of the closet?

By now you must obviously be wondering how Oct-O-Mom fits into all of this, so I’ll briefly drop the silliness and even the sarcasm. If Nadya Suleman really wanted everyone to leave her alone she’d give up the babies and a few others for adoption. Her kids would be happy, the public would be happy and the media would temporarily melt into a pool of tears. Wouldn’t it be for the best?

The only downside is gays still can’t adopt but if they could just rustle up a shit load of money for the right people or lie on the application… Well, I’ll always be an optimist.

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.

These are the scariest times

I’m focusing on the first frightening day of these scary times I’ve found myself thrown into recently. At this very moment you are reading the blog of a mom who now has her first teen driver. If that doesn’t send shivers up and down your spine, well, maybe you are laughing. Or maybe you’re one of the apathetic ones. I try but I just don’t understand.

So this is how it all began. Well, after my son decided he wanted to get a learner's permit. I gathered up the required documents and drove 75 miles to pick up my son (who was at his dad’s house) and take him to the nearest DMV. When I got there his dad insisted on driving us. Like me he had taken the day off from work, but his attitude toward the whole thing was quite the opposite. Apparently he is one of those parents the DMV pamphlet was speaking to who is eager about this “exciting time” and happy to assist in the 1½ year journey our son has embarked upon in acquiring a real driver’s license. I would describe my feelings as anxious, nervous, and downright fearful. As for the length of time it will take altogether - they made the rules stricter a few years ago. Anyway, I was only asked to show up for this event because I had the kid’s birth certificate and Social Security card. I hate it when I’m so desperately needed - and it only gets worse. In order for our son to move to the next level (a restricted license) I have to sit beside him while he drives a total of 50 hours in the next six months.

50 hours. 50 hours, which must be logged in a little booklet. I can think of much better ways to die than as a passenger in my own vehicle. Losing a “Wild West” style shoot-out would be less humiliating. And I could probably find some one crazy enough to do it.

I have good reason to be very afraid. Our son, who doesn’t yet have his own car but has driven a few times with dad (dad is a thrill seeker with no fear whatsoever), well our son let me know in advance he doesn’t plan on ever attempting to parallel park my Suburban. The big old beast scares the kid. So the thought of him driving it scares me.

When we got to the DMV we took a number, which was 26. They were serving number 16, which wouldn’t have been too bad, but the waiting area only had room to accommodate 8 and there were about 20 sweaty individuals crowded in there and out in the hallway. So we hung tightly to our number and drove to a fast food place. It was now afternoon but still technically the lunch rush. When we got back they were helping number 22. So we found a little shade outside under a tree, and by the time everyone was done eating they were on number 25. Great timing. Soon it was my son’s turn and we followed him to the counter. I handed over the docs and his dad insisted on paying, so he now has something to hold over our heads. Damn him.

We were anxious to see how our son would do on the test. Would he pass on his first try as expected? Perhaps he would fail, forcing us to leave with our heads hung in shame. Then it dawned on us that our son wears glasses. Well, he is supposed to wear them but never does because it isn’t cool, so we forgot he even had them. I just chalk it up as another downside to having kids because I really have no shame. Well, he attempted the eye test without them but couldn’t pass so his dad quickly devised a plan. Our son would take the written test and if he passed we’d head straight to my house from there, hopefully find his glasses he never wears, and maybe get back to the DMV in time so we wouldn’t have to take another unpaid day off from our jobs. Round trip it would be 130 miles. The way the kid’s dad drives I figured he could do it in record time. It’s amazing he doesn’t get more than one speeding ticket per year. The problem? I also had a plan. I had some shopping to do. I wanted him to drop me off at my vehicle so I could get that shit done while he and the kid were off taking care of business. That’s when we butted heads. No, we had to do it his way. There wasn’t any time to spare, according to him, so he refused to drive me the mere ten miles in the opposite direction to my truck. So it looked like I was doomed - stuck when I obviously wasn’t needed and could be getting other stuff done. Not only that, but the guy drives like a maniac when he isn’t in a hurry. Well, there was still a chance our son wouldn’t pass the test. We could always return another day some time within the next year, after all.

He had to miss six questions to fail. He got five wrong. Oh joy.

So off we went. Everyone was in high spirits but me. I sat in the back trying to be patient. I thought about making the trip miserable for the jerk. There were so many things I could be angry about. I could even go back fifteen years, but it wasn’t worth it. This was exactly what he was hoping for. But I did tense up when I felt us surpass 80 mph on the two lane highway. I miss the days when Montana had no speed limit. Back then, 80 was my limit. Soon I heard my son say, “Wow, Dad! 95!”

I peeked over the seat to see the car could easily do 110. Great. So what could I do? I went to my happy place.





Some day it could happen. He could get arrested, I tell myself. But until then I have to live life knowing my kids can’t tell the difference between Montana beef and the imported stuff. I hate you Ronald, and your easy beef.

So we made it back to the DMV in time, no one was hurt (yet), and our kid got his permit. Hopefully my fear of letting him drive within 75 miles of me will pass soon enough, but I have my doubts. The way I see it, if he’s nervous about driving a Suburban that his own mother can handle without any difficulty, then he really shouldn’t be driving at all. I try but I just don’t understand.

John McCain speaks to America

Dear America,

I’m John McCain. I’d like to be your next Commander-in-Chief because I’m really sick of life as a Senator.

I’m not trying to run away from Arizona’s problems. I’m just tired of getting bombarded on all sides over the whole “immigrant” issue. I’ve had both parties on my tail for years. I’ve had to deal with a grass roots group of wannabe Border Patrol agents, as well as complete idiots who think they can build some kind of fence to keep the America-hungry Mexicans out. Well, I’ve done enough. It’s over. Now I want to lead this great nation. I’m fully prepared to deal with the worst of the worst, America’s conscience - Lou Dobbs. He is one tough bastard to ignore. But I can do it.

Also, I feel like I was jipped when in the year 2000 I ran against George W. Bush and lost the party nomination. As much as I love the President, I should’ve won that bitch. So here I am. And as long as I’m still alive, I’m not going anywhere.





I have Life Alert.

While Senator Obama is away, I see this as a window of opportunity to tell you all exactly what is wrong with him. So listen up. Obama is a loser. He’s not a war hero like me. When I was busy winning a war, he was wasting his time somewhere in Montana. How dare he enjoy a holiday with his family in a state no one cares about while I’m slaving away and winning wars. I’m just stating the facts here. And the facts are, he has no judgment. He changes his position with the wind. I know the wind. For example, I know when the wind starts blowing one way, it should continue to keep blowing in that direction. If the wind changes it is wrong, and I’m always right. I’ve never changed my position. He knows nothing about the wind.

I know how to win wars. I’ve won many. You don’t win wars with peace. You win them in a bloody fight to the death after arresting and eventually hanging that nation's dictator. That makes me a winner, and not a waster of billions of dollars.

I supported the surge and Obama opposed it. I don’t want to hear any more about him being opposed to the war in the first place. But if you want to throw that in my face, I’ll respond by telling you what a loser he is. He’s a big fat loser. I control the wind. That makes me mighty and strong, and not weak like my opponent. He doesn’t know jack about the wind.

Senator Obama also doesn’t know squat diddly about Iraq. I’ve been to Iraq eight times. That makes me a winner, and fully supports my claim that he is a loser. I know Iraq’s Prime Minister better than I know my own wife. Senator Obama knows nothing about foreign relations, or that most problems can be resolved in a hotel room. I know how to solve problems. There aren't any that can’t be solved over a bottle of wine with Barry White playing softly in the background.

I’m Senator McCain, and I don’t not approve this message.

My favorite holiday

Yes! It’s finally here. The day we got serious about getting the King’s redcoats off “our” property.

“Taxes?! We don’t need no stinking taxes!”

We sure told him…

I’ve pretty much covered the reasons why I love the 4th of July and other stuff I like about summer, so what else can I do? Well I should clarify that although our line-up of performers leaves much to be desired, there is one who I hear is worth seeing. Amy is a friend and the neighbors say she’s a good singer. I got to know her and her kids when she lived on my block for a couple of years. But I had no idea she was singing last 4th of July or I would’ve made a point to see her (we went on the 3rd instead). She moved back home to another town in Montana this spring, so I’m glad she’s come back for at least a couple of days. To sum her up I’ll share a short story. My oldest daughter (who just turned 9 yesterday) has been to Amy’s house many times to play with her children, so she has heard her sing. She picked up a People magazine sometime this past winter (I buy it for the crosswords) and pointed at the totally fake photo on the cover (they really overdo those touch ups). “Mom, who is that?” she asked.

“It’s Britney Spears. She sings that song, ‘Hit me baby’… blah, blah, blah…”

“Oh! I know that song. She’s not a very good singer. Amy sings way better than her.”

“What about Sheryl Crow? She sings that song ‘I wanna soak up the’… blah, blah, blah…”

“Amy’s way better than her too.”

“That’s good to know…”

I like her already. So today I’m going to stop by and enjoy her performance. Then I’ll get really drunk and light fireworks. I hope I don’t hurt anyone…

Let it rain, let it pour

Is it raining where you are? It’s been raining and drizzling here all week long. I haven’t seen the sun shine since Monday, so when it makes a big comeback the shock to the system just might kill me. I wait with anticipation.

It always rains on Memorial Day Weekend. Only this year it started even sooner. Good thing my ex was wise enough to plan the big yearly camping/fishing event for the following weekend. I mean, good thing he has to work Memorial Day this year, for the children’s sake. They really rough it out there so I hope the weather is nice. Hopefully this time around they won’t come home drenched right down to their underwear, with bags of sopping wet clothes. The smell is enough to knock a grown man to the floor, let alone little ol’ me. And as for me, I can’t be away from civilization for nearly a week. I would go effing nuts without a shower, internet and soft place to lay awake nights wishing I could sleep. I have to admit, though, one night away from the hubbub of my home would be a nice getaway. But after that first night it’s just like Chinese water torture. Well, that is old and extremely outdated (replacing “Chinese” with “Guantanamo”).

I’m not complaining because we desperately need this. I guess I can tolerate puddles and mud everywhere if it means there’s a chance of not having another horrible fire season. We’ve had a drought for years now. I think it could be traced back to when Bush was first elected, but the last thing I want is angry Republicans getting all up in my space (sarcasm). I swear it gets more and more like California here every year, but our fires don’t seem quite as bad to the public. We don’t usually have national news reporters crawling around on the scene, broadcasting the sights, and the sounds of locals describing in great detail how they couldn’t save the chickens.




Poor chickens, their lives were so short. They barely lived.




This is a backfire, proving that evil really can be fought with evil.




This fire is still fresh in my memory. Two summers ago it burned for a few days before it was contained. I want to give props to the Volunteer Firemen (and others who came in to help). It’s good to know my donations weren’t piddled away on beer and poker games. Thank you all for giving us our highway back. It’s our only connection to the real world. Without it we are lost - just simple valley folk mumbling to ourselves about how times were so much better in the old days. Wait… We do that anyway.

Remember when we could drive twice as far on a tank of gas?

Oh yeah, those were the days.

Remember when mescaline was all the rage, and we could run naked in the hills without a care?

Oh yeah, those were the days.




Remember when 38 Special was a cool band?

Oh yeah, I’m sure glad those days are behind us.

Hurray for summer.

Hurray for vacation time. I’m looking forward to visiting my homeland. It‘s been two years since our last trip. It’s a 14-hr drive that always turns into a 16-hr event because the kids need to pee every few hours… and get one hot meal… so when we finally arrive I’ll see brand new worry lines on my mother’s face. Wait… she doesn’t know exactly when we’re leaving, so I’ll try to keep it that way. I‘m sure I‘ll fail miserably. She has a way of finding out things. If only I were an only child… but then I’d have no one to sympathize, or top my stories of pain and woe.

Hurray for beer. A tall cold one always tastes great on a warm day, and is probably one of my favorite things about summer. I really don’t enjoy beer much the rest of the year. I will have one or two on occasion but I have to be in the right mood for it. I don’t understand this summer phenomenon. Before I had kids I used to drink beer nearly every day through all seasons, and like water on my days off from work. I couldn’t get back into a regular drinking schedule after the first kid. I’m such a loser.

Hurray for ice cream. The kids have a chant that goes like this: I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream. Then Mom screams. They always get what they want in the end.

Hurray for baseball. I hope the new ballpark is open this summer as planned, and is still cheaper than a movie. I’m not a tightwad, I just have trouble sneaking kids into the theater, and after the first two it starts getting spendy. The popcorn is like crack and priced like gold. And you can’t have popcorn without a three or four dollar container of pop that could drown a small child.

At Cobb Field everything was reasonably priced which made for a true day of fun. Holy crap, I’ve turned into my father.

Anyway, fun time with the kids is important and I’m always happier when it doesn’t cost too much green. Yep, I’m my dad.

Not only do I enjoy ball games, but my kids will come along, and getting ALL of my kids together to spend time with mom is a tough feat these days. Teenagers are funny people. The strange thing is I can relate.

Hurray for the drive-in, but it’s only for the kids. And when the kids are happy, I bitch on the inside.

Movies just don‘t get me excited like they did years ago. When I became a grown-up (some time in the 90’s) I started seeing a trend of crap peddled by Hollywood, so I thought, like I’ll die if I don’t see Arnold in his latest multi-million dollar deal. I think the way I feel means I’m getting old. I’d guess my parents lost their love for movies when Clint Eastwood stopped starring in Westerns. For me, cinema died when Harrison Ford disappeared. He is a true stud. I’m glad he’s making a comeback of sorts in this new Indiana Jones flick, but I didn’t see him in the last three Star Wars episodes! I still want my money back. Darned kids. Yoda hypnotize them so, why does, hmm?.

Hurray for Independence Day. Our town really gets into the celebration and stretches it out over a few days with parades, fireworks, etc… and people are always on stage trying desperately to convince me that they are entertaining. I’m not like the rest of the drunken sheep, I only applaud when I mean it.

Rodeos are fun, but only when Cowboy Poker is played. There’s something special about watching a live group of snuff-chewers sitting around a card table in a ring with a bull. How does your poker face work when you have over 1,000 lbs of irate animal (complete with horns) breathing down the back of your neck? At some point the fear reflex kicks in and running for your life becomes a bit more important. In fact, the mean bucking machine doesn’t really allow time for a game to get started. To see grown men scrambling and crapping their pants is always a hoot.

We can light fireworks for two weeks straight if we feel like it. This can be fun, depending on who your neighbors are. There is a guy on our street who goes to bed early, and he will call the cops, even though he knows full well we aren‘t breaking any law. So out of respect we resist whipping out the noise makers on weeknights. Who am I kidding? The truth is we don’t want the cops hating us any more than they already do. They get really annoyed by his phone calls, so we are kind to the guy just in case we ever need to call 911. As far as I know there aren’t any specific fireworks that are banned because I’ve seen it all. Then again, I don’t have a copy of the city code handy. It may not be a defense but it works for me.

Sometimes ignorance really is bliss, especially when you‘ve got a deputy watching your every move because you justifiably insulted a woman, who turned out to be his wife. I didn’t start it, but I like to finish things in a memorable way. I guess the truth really can hurt. This is why I have a newfound love for attorneys. You never know when you’ll need one on your side, which is better than having one on your back. But it’s good when they have your back. But not your rear. What am I talking about?

What do you like about summer?

Why I prefer mountains to beaches

I’ve never been to a real beach, that is, an ocean. So I obviously haven’t had the true beach experience. However, I grew up in a state with many lakes, and back home a “beach” is what we call a sandy lake shore. So now I‘ll compare mountains to beaches based on my vast wealth of (cough) knowledge.

Mountains: If you’ve never taken a drive through the mountains, put it on your to-do list. They are majestic, beautiful, and clean. What’s even better is visiting a mountain lake, spring, river, or falls. Now let me be clear - I’m just talking about a day trip here. If you’ve never been camping before, this is not the best place to pop that cherry. Bears love mountains even more than humans, and can smell food from miles away. You don’t want to have a cook-out unless you’ve brought your guns. The actual odds of seeing a bear are very slim, but you’ll probably see deer, eagles, mountain goats and other wildlife. So as long as you aren’t camping or wandering off the trail, the worst thing you’ll ever see are log cabins as this might make you think of the Unabomber (definitely will if you‘re in Montana) but I have yet to run into any creepy people. Hermits like to hide and will only hurt you if you climb the barbed wire. And when you do see people they are usually sight-seeing and share the same look of dumbfounded awe on their faces. Sure, you could look up relevant pictures on the internet or watch the Travel Channel, but it doesn‘t come close to being there. Maybe if I compare mountains to sex it will help drive the point home. You wouldn’t choose porn over flesh, would you? Well, maybe that isn’t the best question to be asking on the internet.

Beaches: There really isn’t any scenery unless you can ignore the beachgoers, rolls of naked flesh, bright orange towels, bright orange swimsuits, umbrellas, sandals, and litter. Don’t tell me you can enjoy the sound of the waves and seagulls when every few minutes some one is yelling (as if the kids can hear Mom while they’re up to their necks in water). And there is always that one screaming child who gives you an instant headache, and the couple who can't keep their domestic dispute in the bar where it belongs. You could go to a more secluded beach but you’ll still get sand in your swimsuit. Uh oh, I’m having a flashback to my childhood. Maybe this is just a girl problem, but when I was a kid I was a sand magnet. And it wasn’t just me. I had sisters, and friends. No matter how hard we tried to avoid it, we always ended up just like toy dump trucks. We had to ride home with sandpaper on our crotches. When we’d change out of our suits we’d have to pour them out over a waste basket. Also, at the beach there is no such thing as average. There are only two kinds of people - the kind that shouldn’t be in a swimsuit, and the kind that make you want to see what’s under it. The latter of the two, the sexy people with the rock-hard abs, make everyone else feel insecure and insignificant. And that is usually 90% on any given day. And you always see a few of the unattractive beachgoers giving the smoking hot ones those looks that could kill, like, How dare they look so good? You can just feel the animosity. If it weren’t so hot, because heat tends to make it difficult for people to move, they’d probably just beat the ever living crap out of them for looking so damn good. If that went down, I’d have to reevaluate my whole outlook on beaches. But for now, this is where I stand. Mountains are better.

The Chinook winds of change

Overall the economy has been doing alright in Montana and the job market in Billings is still strong, but it’s clear that some retail businesses are feeling the pain of declining sales. There were some layoffs at a few places and this is probably a sign that some real changes are coming ‘round here.

First up on the list we have Krispy Kreme. Warning: what you're about to see may burn.




FYI, donuts do the same thing to men. So how can I feel any amount of sympathy for Krispy Kreme. Boohoo, KK. Only good can come from this. I’m tired of seeing mountains of flesh wherever I go, so maybe this is a sign that the average citizen will soon be safe to bump into, and perhaps even be easy on the eyes. And if the Big & Tall stores have layoffs it would be a real cause for celebration. I’d definitely be at the lake this summer without the kiddies (wink).

Next up on the layoff list we have Ben Franklin.



No, not the Ben Franklin. It’s a craft store. I wouldn’t be surprised if the real Mr. Franklin’s bones rolled over in his grave when the first store was erected nearly 100 years after his death. The man is on the hundred dollar bill and was a scientist, inventor, writer, and played an important role in our nation’s earliest pages of history, among other things. I’m pretty sure, no, I’m positive he didn’t spend his down time knitting sweaters for troops or cross-stitching maps. To put his name on a craft store is downright disrespectful. It’s almost as bad as slapping the name of a good state onto a girl who can‘t sing or act in order to help make her into a star. So the truth is, I never liked your store, BF. Feel the winds of change. Bask in the breeze of profit loss. In the meantime I’ll brace myself for the inevitable. Your former customers are sure to take up less costly hobbies, such as nosing around into the business of their neighbors, and casino hopping with the hopes of winning a few bucks to give a temporary boost to their low self-esteem from years of turmoil and torture from the opposite sex. Well, I’ll brace myself for the nosy neighbors.




It doesn’t surprise me at all that the Wells Fargo Banking Center had to lay off some employees. They have higher fees and a greedier, snottier atmosphere than any other place I’ve ever banked at. Now I’m going to swing off the local branch for a moment, and look at the company on a larger scale. Their Wikipedia page says they are “respected for its policies and management which have kept the company away from questionable business practices which have hurt the reputation of many of its competitors”… and they can say this because Eliot Spitzer never accused them of doing anything illegal. But when it comes down to its customers, and even its shareholders, it’s no secret they cheat and steal. My stint with them lasted a whole six months, and I was a happy bitch when I left. Good luck, WF. I predict as more people shop around you’ll have to eventually pack up and leave Montana altogether. Buh-bye! I won’t cry. And by the way, Mr. Spitzer couldn’t possibly be in anyone‘s back pocket. He’s not going to be poking around pockets or pleasure holes for a while if he‘s learned anything, so good luck with that side of it too if you have anything to hide from the world.

And last but surely not the least, we have Sutton’s Sportswear, a wholesale embroidery and printing company. This one came as a shock because they’ve always done well. The big surprise was a whopping 47 people lost their jobs this week. I know it’s not a big deal compared to other places in the country, but this is not the norm here. We don’t have much for manufacturing plants in the state, which makes for cleaner air and whatnot, but it also means we‘re far removed from the pain that others in the nation are feeling. But if this layoff is a peek into the future of Montana’s retail sector, it may be a wake up call for us to consider when we cast our votes here this fall. Personally, I think we need a president who is supported and promoted by more than just a man-maid, offspring or housewife. And I don’t know if any of these points have been made yet, but we need a president who can actually hear the phone ringing at 3 a.m. We’re all gonna be screwed if the morning that call comes in is the same morning a battery in a hearing aid decides to go kaput.

IDGAS is a fun phrase

Hello, blog grazers and beautiful people out there. Have you been feeling stressed lately? I’m feeling a little bloated thanks to the monthly curse, but other than that I’m good. It’s a beautiful day. The grass is green. It’s sunny, it’s warm, and it’s quiet… at least for the moment. But I know some of you have been feeling kind of tense.
“I don’t give a shit” is a fun phrase.
Say it.
Say it!
Say it with some authority now.
Doesn’t that make you feel better? Try it this way… shorten it up and say it the internet way, IDGAS.

From now on “I don’t give a shit” is going to be my fun phrase for life in general. Because seriously, if I were normally a serious person, life wouldn’t be any fun and I’d be dead in about ten years just from the stress of taking life too seriously. I’ll still give a shit when it’s necessary, but I’m talking about the small stuff here. I’m happy not sweating it.

I’m sure my new phrase will come in handy. I used to shrug my shoulders when life grabbed me by the nips and twisted, or more realistically, whenever something mildly annoying was thrown my way. But shrugging my shoulders like a trained chimp wasn‘t any fun, and that‘s the whole point. So I’ve given this a little bit of thought. Here are some situations when I could use my new fun phrase IDGAS.

When my co-workers do stupid things because they are stupid and I end up having to do more work because of their stupidity… IDGAS. And IDGAS because I get paid for the extra time I spend working because of their stupidity. IDGAS! HA! Joke’s on you, um, suckers who work with me that went to Special Ed. back in school and still think you’re special.

When the price of gasoline gets so outrageously high that I won’t be able to drive anymore because the price of milk is always higher and more important to have because it‘s milk… IDGAS. And IDGAS because I have legs, and feet. That’s right, I can walk or pedal a bike. IDGAS! HA! Joke’s on you, um, greedy executives and countries who sell oil and don‘t give a shit about the consumer.

If someone even more influential than Tom Hanks (who recently endorsed Barack Obama) comes out to shock the nation and endorse John McCain for President… IDGAS. IDGAS! HA! Joke’s on you, um, whoever might have the balls to put their entire reputation on the line for another four years of the same old same-old. Well, we already know it won’t be Charlton Heston.

If the government ever tries to take away our right to bear arms… IDGAS. And IDGAS because even if it happens in other states, it won’t happen in Montana. IDGAS! HA! Joke’s on you, um, people who think that slowly stripping away our rights and over-regulating us is going to make our world a better place.

When life throws you a hit, just don't give a shit. Turn it around. Don't fall to the ground. My rhyme is done. Now go have some fun.

Twisted News: Huckabee brings hellfire and other bad things...

Mike Huckabee - a former Baptist minister and Presidential candidate - visited Billings, Montana on Tuesday and Wednesday to help promote Republican Roy Brown for Governor. He brought with him the wrath of his God.

It began with a fire roughly 30 miles away near Park City on Tuesday, which was started by a lightning strike. But Huckabee was overheard saying, “My Lord is telling you, you’d better listen to Mikey or you’ll have the worst fire year since 1988.”

With some help from cooler weather the fire was 100% contained by Wednesday night. But rumor has it the firemen gave up the fight early on, got down on their hands and knees, and sent prayers up to Huckabee’s God. They also promised to vote for Roy Brown, an oil tycoon.

On Wednesday the local FBI chapter revealed a threat had been made against area refineries. Conoco and Exxon-Mobil promptly assured local residents that not only had they stepped up security, but they had sequestered their top employees in candle-lit rooms to send prayers to The Almighty God of Huckabee, until, “it‘s safe for them to come out.”

When questioned about the refinery threat Huckabee was overheard saying, “My only concern right now is helping Roy Brown. If you‘re planning to write a check to the Lord, take that check and send it to the Brown campaign. That‘s what I‘m doing because I love the Lord and I‘m not gay.”

When asked if he wanted to be McCain’s running mate, he was quoted (this one is real), “It‘s a little early for the captain of the football team to ask me to the prom.”

In related news, blogger Alicia Billings was struck down Wednesday with a flu bug and was forced to stay in bed for nearly 24 hours. She had horrible nightmares of blood-sucking vampires, and children. Lots and lots of children.

Why am I writing about myself in the third person? I don’t know, but I hope Mike Huckabee’s God will stay away, whoever or whatever it is.