Thanksgiving

This year, I have so much to be thankful for and I don't mean the bullshit thankfulness either, I mean 2009 ended up being one of the best years of my life. First Cole is doing an amazing job at school. His behavior has vastly improved (at least when he is with me) and he is getting brighter and brighter with each passing day. There is nothing like good old parental pride to get you up in the mornings. I am very thankful for my son.

I still have a job (knock on wood). They say the economy is picking back up, but frankly, I have yet to see evidence of this, especially at work. I am very thankful for financial independence.

Kitty Claw and I finally came to a peaceful truce. If she starts to claw on me or act aggressive, I throw her outside until she can pull her shit together. Usually after about 10 minutes, she's ready to come back in and behave. She is actually very welcomed company when she curls up next to me, purring and acting like a sweet, loving member of the family. My feelings towards her are starting to warm. I am very thankful for harmony.

I got out of the worst relationship in my life this year. I won't elaborate on this but it affected me on a personal and professional level and though I am still feeling some after-effects, my quality of life skyrocketed the minute it was over. I'm not going to say that it was all his fault, I take most of the responsibility for actively blinding myself to the signs (they were there, oh were they there). I'm just thrilled to be free from the concrete blocks that were attached to my feet by unkept promises and smoke and mirrors. I also learned a very valuable lesson; a paper trail never, ever lies. The paper trail is ultimately what unbound me, it validated my doubts, vaporized the smoke screen and reflected reality.
A paper trail is the most honest assessment of a person's true nature. You can discover everything about a person, what foods they like, what their hobbies are, do they love their family, do they have a job, do they pay their taxes, do they tithe, do they have a sweet tooth, if they are generous, are they responsible, do they prefer mac over pc, do they have friends, do they drink too much, do they like to travel, do they have kids, etc. The list goes on and on. I am thankful that I woke up in time to finally hear the screaming paper trail and smell the scent of detergent on freshly laundered clothes after a long hard day of sweating in the hot sun. I am very thankful for clarity.

I am getting back into the best shape of my life AND finding a healthy way to deal with stress. I feel trim and fit and as a direct result, I have to some degree halted the aging process (at least I feel like I have in my brain). My mind feels younger and more agile. I am very thankful for my health.

Roberta has become one of my most beloved of friends. We laugh a lot, we cry, we share. She is a wonderful spectator and an honest commentator. We disagree on certain issues, but then we still hug at the end of the day and say "see you tomorrow, neighbor." I am very thankful for my neighbor.

But most of all, I am very thankful that after all the mistakes made, the tears shed, the laughs shared, we get the opportunity to put our heads down on our soft fluffy pillows and wake up the next morning and do it all again, but just a little bit wiser.

Birds and the Bees

Emma McNeilly's mom had the sex talk with her when we were in the second grade. I know this because Emma, in turn, relayed her new found knowledge to me the next day in the school cafeteria during lunch. She spoke in very clinical terms, which I totally appreciated, even back then. I remember it very vividly to this day because I knew my mom would never have this conversation with me, ever. In fact, the only person from my old family who sat down with me to discuss sex was my older sister, however, it was AFTER I had my first sexual experience.

As a direct result, I decided that now Cole is in second grade, it's time to have the talk with him. This is how it went:

Me: Cole, do you know where babies come from?
Cole: Yes, from your belly.
Me: Do you know how it got there?
Cole: Yes, I was inside your belly all of your life.
Me: Yes, but do you know how you started to grow in my belly?
Cole: No...
Me: When two people make the decision to have sex...
Cole: ewewewewewewew!!
Me: What? It's not gross, it's a part of the cycle of life. You don't want to hear about se...
Cole: ewewewewewewew!!

In some ways, I am very relieved; my little boy is still my little boy for the time being.

Octoberfesting Indeed!

Dressing up has never been so much fun! Victoria and I have this thing that we do. It's similiar to having a shitload of fun where ever we are but more funner.

From beer wenching...

to trifecta winning:

to knock-out, drag-down, spectaularly awesome ghoulishness:

This gal is like my soul sister except prettier, smarter, paler and bloodier. and no one can hardly tell us apart! We are physically connected at the hip bone and mentally connected at the funner bone.

Now that he's seven...

My little man thinks that he's all growed up. Now considering that I have made it a policy to tell him the truth (except about Santa Claus and I am still not sure if I did the right thing by perpetuating the myth), I was not sure what to say when he asked me if I loved his dad. So, I told him the truth and said nope, but I sure am grateful that he was around because I wouldn't have been able to have the best son in the world if it wasn't for his dad.

Apparently that wasn't good enough, he asked WHY I didn't love his dad. I told him that when he was older, I would fill him in. He needs a few more years(like never) before I go into a fairytale version of the gory truth. He insisted that he really wanted to know and is old enough to understand. So I asked him what wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas.

That ended that.

'Fraidy Cat

For the past several months I've noticed the touch lamp is sometimes on in the guest bedroom. Let me clarify, when I see it on, I walk in and turn it off. I have never actually turn the light on myself so I thought it a little strange that I found myself turning off a light that I've never turned on. Initially I dismissed it as an accident, I'm not even sure how I was able to justify in my mind that a light turning on by itself is in any way ok, but the other option was to kinda sorta freak out and have the house exorcized and start digging for dead american indian bodies. So in my mind, I dismissed it as a little odd, but nothing to worry about. Afterall, I did get the locks changed and I have been super diligent about locking up.

Then I thought maybe Cole was randomly turning the light on, even though the guest bedroom is the one room he never enters. For that matter, the guest bedroom is the one room I never enter either. But when I asked him why he was turning the light on in the guest bedroom but not turning it off, he looked down at me like I was in kindergarten and kindly asked me to quit smoking crack. Which brings me to Kitty Claw. She is the only other living, breathing creature that is able to roam freely about the house. Maybe she was turning the light on? Which now makes me sound like I really am on crack. Who ever heard of a cat with a light fetish that didn't involve a concentrated beam of a laser light? Cats can see in the dark, they don't need light, or so I'm told.

Well I finally caught her the other day. She has staked out the one remaing room in the house as her own. That crazy bi-polar cat apparently needs her privacy when she is heading south AND she needs her privacy while bathing in the soft glow of a low wattage ambient night stand lamp. She likes to turn on the light whenever she lounges on the guest bed, nestled between the comforter and pillow shams. It wouldn't bother me so much except she doesn't even have the courtesy to turn the damn light off when she leaves the room.

Fuck You World.

There are so many damned thoughts going through my head, it wants to explode. I promised I would never do a blog about my political or religious views because I'm sure I'd lose a lot of friends this way but FUCK!!! With what's been going on in the world, how can a person not have an opinion on the sad, sad state of the world? First of all, FUCK YOU George Bush, Sr. I mean seriously, FUCK YOU. You can dish it out but you can't stand it when someone dishes it out to you or to your dumb fuck retarded family. Fuck you 30 Sentators who voted against Al Frankens's rape amendment. I mean seriously, FUCK YOU nonconsentually in the ass and while we're at it, FUCK YOU in a locked shipping container. Fuck you Glen Beck and all of the crazy, illogical mother fuckers (especially on FOX-shivers) who think their rantings and ravings are on par with real news and professional journalism. FUCK YOU Richard Heene for the Hoax last week. I was watching the runaway balloon on tv with tears in my eyes feeling so sorry for you and the horror and fear you must be feeling thinking your son was 5,000 feet in the air. I almost cried for you and come to find out, not only are you a fucking liar and actively encourage your kids to be liars too, but now I just read that you "allegedly" beat the snot out of your wife too. You are too classy for tv my friend. You belong in hell. (of course, fuck me for only wanting to believe in hell when it is convenient for me, otherwise, FUCK Hell, it doesn't exist, but then again, if I have to FUCK ME, then I have to FUCK all the other hypocrites on this planet.)

On a lighter note, FUCK the experts who tell me that eating egg yolks is bad for me. Haven't you mother fuckers heard of moderation? You want to know what's bad for me? Lays potato chips, Hot Cheetos and plastic Mickey D's fries. Fuck fat and obese america and fuck the skinny lovers who have a problem with chubby citizens.

Fuck you arugula and other mixed lettuce leaves for being so delicious but having absolutely NO nutritional value whatsoever that after I eat you, I am forced to eat a bag of hot fucking cheetos, which are not only very bad for my body and skin, but makes my poopie hole hurt a whole lot.

And last but not least, FUCK MY KNEES, yes, both of them for not being able to carry me for a measly 6.2 miles without screaming out in pain like they were in Guantanamo Bay or something. Please bitches, I give you ice, ibutes and lots and lots of rest. You knees have no idea what it's like to be fucked, but I sure do. Fuck you for fucking me over at my first 10K.

This Just In!

According to the American Chemical Society, nearly 90% of all U.S. paper money contains traces of cocaine.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/08/17/90-percent-of-us-paper-mo_n_261190.html

This also means that 90% of all U.S. paper money contains traces of snot, mucus and/or boogers.

A New Sensation!

I looked out my window tonight only to discover that my car was not in the driveway! Then I remembered Roberta cleaned out my garage and left me enough room to park my car.

I love that crazy lady. Everyone should have a Roberta in their lives, but you are not allowed to steal mine, I'll shank yo' ass.

Eastward Bound!

I go "home" tomorrow morning for the first time in over 10 years. I have so many mixed feelings about it, but mainly pure joy. I am hesitant to leave the Garden of Eating, just as it is starting to bear the fruits of my labor. The timing could not be worse! However, Roberta is around and she plans on picking the ripe fruit and watering and weeding the garden as well as feed Kitty Claw. Additionally, I won't see Cole for 9 days and that is pretty hard. But he did give me tons of extra hugs and kisses that should last me through the first weekend.

I get to revisit places I have not seen in ages. I get to eat at restaurants that I've yet to forget the dishes and I get to hang out with some of the coolest people on the planet...and do some pretty cool things with said cool people. For example, Thomas and I are going to run an 8K during my visit. I know, I know, who's ever heard of an 8K? Well that's how we do things in Kentucky. Look at that, I already sound like a native again.

'Iffin when I git back and I has me an accent, please don't make fun now, ya'll hear? It'll git back to normal in a spell.

Eggplant Extravaganza!

and it tasted even better.

I popped my first Cherry...!!!!

...Tomato that is, right into my mouth.




it was fucking delicious.

Spank Bank

In my opinion, this picture that Corazon took after our jog last week has all the elements of spank bank material...it's trashy and you can see a little bush.

D-emotion

I will get on my knees for the man or woman who invents the 20/20 foresight glasses.

But in the meantime, I have officially been demoted out of my big girl panties and am now right back in diapers. The rash is kind of a itchy but it's still better than shitting all over myself. I am demoted until further notice. Anyone who finds the image of me in diapers hot, please don't call, ever.

Running face...

My god! I'm going to have to start following Thomas' lead and start training at night.

There's a black fly in my Chardonnay...

May feels like the start of the new year. I have been so busy this month, this is actually the first time I have had time to sit down and reflect on the huge difference a span of 30 days can make. 30 days ago, I had to drink a lot of alcohol to muster up enough courage to tell my boyfriend that we were not going to make it.

Fast forward 30 days later and I have raked, weeded and tilled my backyard with the help of some really amazing folks. We now have a thriving vegetable and herb garden plus a nice steamy compost pile. Other people have caught my garden bug and want to pitch in too. I believe we are going to create a bonafide Co-op. The name of this Co-op is called the Garden of Eating.

This month, Cole has taken it upon himself to become the "man" of the house. He makes sure I eat, he gets me water, he has even put ice in a plastic baggie for my knee, none of which I have had to ask him to do, he just does it on his own when he thinks I need something. He picks up his toys and cleans his room, he helps me around the house and the garden. He even reminds me to take my vitamins. The garage is almost organized, I have a few more sections I want to tackle but I can almost fit my car in if I want. The house is clean, rearranged and more functional, there are still a few rooms that we need to tackle but that will happen with time. I have been going out more, hanging with my friends, rekindling old friendships and making new friends. I have even gone out on a few dates! I have not watched tv or movies, I have been jogging more, eating healthier and hardly drinking. I ran a 5K and came first in my division, plus I ran 10K at the Rose Bowl and ran up a mountain for 1.5 miles without stopping. I've diversified my jogging routes to include mountain trails and beaches, I am clear-headed, focused and firing on all cylinders. I feel balanced and healthy.

The irony is that in order to have been able to accomplish all of this in 30 days, all I had to do was guzzle a bottle of wine.

Dating Rule Number 1

Did ya hear about that Drew Peterson guy who's been married 4 times with 2 divorces and 1 dead wife and another one missing? Or what about Michael Peterson who was indicted for pushing his wife down the stairs and bludgeoning her with a fire poke? And who could forget Scott Peterson who drowned his pregnant wife, effectly killing 2 people with one cold and heartless act?

So what's my point?

Unless you want to potentially die a violent and torturous death, don't date anyone with the surname Peterson.

Gluttony

Can someone please come over and smack a bitch the next time I decide that eating all you can eat Korean BBQ for three hours straight is a good idea? Because that little thing in most people's head that says, "put down the fork and scootch your chair away from the table now" when they have had enough to eat, appears to be broken in my head.

Mistake number one...I decided to not eat for the entire day so that I could shove as much meat down my gullet for dinner. By the time we got to the restaurant, I was ready to eat the napkins. I was so hongry (and a bit grumpy too). So we sit down and I immediately eat all of the panchin. By the time everyone had gotten there, most of it was gone and we had to order more. A few people were probably pissed, but did I mention I was HONGRY? Plus where was our meat?

So in due time, the meat was on the grill, we all ate and ate and ate and ate. There are a few schools of thought regarding KBBQ. Some people ordered rice to eat with concert with their meat and some people ate the chicken as well as the galbi and bulgolgi. Not me. I don't want to fill up on stuff I can eat every day or fill up on filler that is going to expand in my tummy squeezing out room for perfectly good meat. I drink very little water and just systematically insert meat in my mouth as it is done cooking.

Three hours later, I feel so sick. All I want to do is lie down. I'd curl up in a ball but my belly won't allow my legs to fold upward. The closest I can curl is in an L.

I would like to tell you the aftermath was horrible. That I took care of business when I got home, that I expelled the devil from the far recesses of my intestinal tract, that my toilet got an involuntary mud bath. But no, that did not happen. The meat stayed in my belly all night, grumbling and rolling about, making itself known, but refusing to make an appearance. As of this sitting, I have an alien body of a meat-mound the size of Mt. Olympus sitting on the side lines, waiting for it's cue...

New Passion!

I have a new passion and I swear this time that it will never fade away. Fortunately for me, my new passion includes elements that I already love so the transition will not be too difficult. The elements include food, great friends and sharing, but with a twist.

I love, love, love when good friends come over to my house and make dinner for me in my kitchen! There is something about watching someone else maneuver through my space that makes the food taste extra special. Plus I get to sit on my ass and do absolutely nothing, an activity that is about as foreign to me as the truth is to Richard Bruce suck my Dick Cheney. The best part is, I didn't have to break a sweat or get in my car to eat an amazing meal.

I love food, I love friends and I love friends who cook for me.

Mom's Day

This post is dedicated to my Mom. I love my mom. I once bet someone that my mom was the best mom in the world. I won the bet because over time, my mom proved to be constant, supportive and ever-present.

My mom has been the one person who has ALWAYS believed in me. ALWAYS. Her latest advice to me was so profound yet such a simple truth, it is hard to believe that I don't call her 10 times a day.

I love you Mom and I hope Cole will feel the same way about me as I do about you as an adult. That would be the greatest gift ever. And no, that is not the only gift you are getting for Mother's Day this year, you're just going to have to wait a few days...

I LOVE you Mom!!!

My To-Do List for the Weekend

1) Clean the shit out of my head.
2) Clean the shit out of my house.
3) Clean the shit out of my garage.

Home bitter-sweet Home

Some of y'alls have been wondering what the heck has been going on in our household and I know you are DYING to get the scoop first hand. You're wondering what happened with Spend-free April amongst other things, but more emphasis on other things.

It was interesting and I am still trying to piece it all together in a logical and accurate manner. I am gathering my thoughts and wits about me before I make an official commentary. Or I may never spill the beans of what happened between these four walls over the past few days, but I do know this...we both did the best to our abilities.

With that said, I would just like to say one more thing before I shut this part of my life out forever:

Good luck and I sincerely wish you the best.

Be back soon

We are almost done with our social experiment. It officially ends next Friday, at which point, at the stroke of midnight, May 1, 2009, we plan on hauling our asses over to In and Out and buying ourselves a nice juicy double double, animal style, no tomatoes, extra pickles. Plus, I am kinda tired of cooking all the time.

Where the hell...?

In case y'all are wondering where the heck I've been all month, I've been hanging out on my other blog talking about how I'm not spending money for the entire month of April. Check it out at: http://depressionbandwagon.blogspot.com/

...or not, it's pretty freaking boring unless your me. and even then, I catch myself snoozing between the lines.

Sound Financial Advice from a 6 year old

Cole told me last weekend that he does not want to put his rolled up coins in his savings account at the bank.

When I asked why, he stated rather matter-of-factly that some banks steal.

We've now designated a mattress for purposes other than sleeping.

Passive Aggressive Behavior

People who are passive aggressive force me to become aggressively passive, otherwise, just like a drug addict, after one hit, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from beating the adult back into them.

Eating disorders

I know this is horrible to say and it is probably going to get me in trouble with someone, somewhere down the line...but...I wish I was bulimic. No, shut up, I really do. I love to eat but I don't like the by-products such as wondering who is following me uncomfortably close, only to discover it's my ass, being stereo-typed as lazy because I deposit more than I withdraw from the calorie bank, complete and utter rejection by both men and women, heart attacks and camel toes.

If I could stand the idea of puking every day, possibly 3 times a day, I guarantee, the economy would be stimulated. I would buy Ho-ho's, Yoo-hoo's, fried chicken, a vat of gravy, french baguettes with every type of cheese known to man, ice cream, marshmallows, mac and cheese, cream puffs, a bloomin' onion from Outback steak house, a side of bacon, krispy creme (which by the way, is the only donut I'll eat, the rest is just crap, I should know, I worked in a bakery and tried every freaking donut known to man from bear claws to crullers, I know what the hell I speak.), homemade biscuits, a meatball sandwich, a rotisserie chicken, turkey stuffing, pate, bbq pork ribs, flaming hot cheetos and a dollop of cool whip cream all washed down with a keg of coors light or a carton of two-buck chuck.

After I ate all of that, I'd stick my finger down my throat, take care of business, rinse my mouth out, wipe down the walls and figure out what's for lunch.

Essence, youthful essence that is.

I'm going to make a confession and it is slightly embarrassing, but not embarrassing enough to keep it under the sink. After all, in a few short weeks, all of you bitches are going to be asking me what I have done different. What's causing my unexpected glow; have I lost a few pounds? Have I quit drinking? Am I pregnant?(and the answer to this last one is no, no, no!)

"Nothing of the sort," I'll reply rather smugly. But then, I'll lean into you in a conspiratorial manner and whisper in your ear,

"you mention this to anyone, and I'll slit your throat with a butter knife..."

...and of course you'll agree to keep your trap shut because you want to know why I look so glow-y and youthful and you don't want your throat slit.

I got suckered into an infomercial and bought Susan Lucci's Youthful Essence off the boob tube one bored and uneventful Saturday afternoon. I figured if Susan Lucci, who is about as old as dirt but looks young enough to be my mom uses this stuff, then I'm gonna try it too. Prior to Mz Lucci's Youthful Essence, my beauty regimen included washing my face with Irish Spring while rinsing out my hair in the shower. I be fancy.

After I ripped open the box of youth and slathered that crap all over my face, it felt like a baby's ass and I loved it.

Naturally, I quit using it because it took too much effort to feel like a smooth bottom. Until this week...my face decided to relive the days of our youth and pop out some zits and dry skin. Which doesn't make sense...how can my face be super, flaky, leper-dry and still pump out enough grease to cause some major volcanic activity? So enters Susan Lucci from underneath the sink cabinet...I microdermal-abrasioned my face and it again feels baby ass smooth.

I'll probably use and abuse Susan and her essence until I get bored or lazy, but in the meantime, if you see me, you don't have to worry about my DNA samples flaking off my cheek and gently settling on your collar when I hug you hello.

Extremes

Ya'll know what I hate, but have you ever wondered what I love?

Me neither until my latest rant. I feel like I should balance things out with a little love. (and not the obvious stuff like I like to laugh or I love my kid and I preemptively hate anyone who will hurt him in the future. That is just a given)

1) On the flip side of stupid and lazy, I love stunningly smart and motivation. Anyone who has a combination of those 2 qualities, will be my friend for life.

2) I am a fan of giving. I love to give shit away. If I don't need something, I would rather give it to someone who can use it or needs it. It's not altruistic, but rather, very pragmatic. With that said, I love it when people give me shit that they don't need, but I do. I love my new-to-me bar stools (thanks momma day!) I'll give anything away as long as it is not bolted down, it belongs to me and it is not a person. And I'm talking big items too. One time, my sister gave me her orange 280Z because my car died and she was going to Guatamala to teach. First of all, score on the color!! I loved that orange car! And second of all, it was FREE!! I later gave it to someone else. A few years ago, a friend of mine got her car stolen. I gave her my car because I just purchased a new car and my old one was just sitting around getting rusty. She is still driving it around today. I LOVE that shit! My motto, give it away if you don't need that shit...and if you have shit you don't need, call me first.

3) I love to organize. You could never tell by my office, but I have a general idea where stuff is because there is a system in place...that only I know. I also love that I gave that trait to my son. We spent all weekend reorganizing a room in our house and we had a blast. Along the same vein, I love checklists. I make them all the time. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE checking off or crossing out the things on my list. Even when I grocery shop, I have a list and a pen handy and I cross things off as I put stuff in my cart. It is the cheap and easy high to list making, but I still love it.

4) I love sex. No need to elaborate on this one, but just to clarify, I love sex with my boyfriend. I hate sex with strangers, nonconsentual sex and sex in public places. That kinda creeps me out. Other than those things, I have no conditions regarding sex. I love sex. (except anal, I won't do anal)

5) I love food. A lot. In fact, I find it amazing that I don't dig sex and food at the same time. But I think I wouldn't enjoy the mess or cleaning it up afterwards. Plus I think licking whipped cream off of someone's sac would produce an odd and unpleasant assortment of flavors and textures on my tongue. However, just seeing food on my plate (or even yours) makes me salivate. I actually made the conscious decision to stop patroning buffets because my brain can't tell my hand to put the fork down.

6) I love to personally challenge myself. I set goals for myself all the time and try to outdo myself. When I beat myself, it feels good.

PS: I hate lazy people too

As I mentioned in the post below, stupid people suck. Lazy people are right up there too. I hate lazy people but not as much as stupid people. God forbid if you are stupid and lazy!! Holy crap, lazy, stupid people tend to fall under the radar and they seem to live forever because though they are stupid enough to win a Darwin Award, they are too lazy to actually do something that could potentially take them out of the gene pool.

Occasionally, I am lazy and don't do shit, like when I am sick, or that one time when I broke my toe and didn't want to hobble down the street because my armpits hurt, so I opted not to eat that night. Or that time I couldn't run for 6 weeks because my damn lazy knee told me to fuck off, it was restin' time.

And I have alluded below that I have also been stupid. Barring all of 2009 (so far), I could have counted those opaque moments on my right hand. Like marrying a retard. That was just plain stupid. I should have just politely handed him a cup and asked for a clean sample instead of going through the motions of marriage and divorce. Also that perm in the 8th grade was an unfortunate decision (and an agonizingly long and drawn out decision, as hair does not grow-out overnight and I didn't want to make another poor decision to try and fix my original mistake by shaving my head because I don't believe the world will ever be ready to view a gigantic, rectangular-shaped noggin in it's full glory)and a few other doozies that I wont mention on this post but have mentioned on previous posts.

But dumb AND lazy is a whole new race of people that was bred as a direct result of innovation and technology. I'd explain, but I'm too lazy to finish my thought.

Self Deprecation

If I've said it once, I've said it 1000 times...I fucking hate stupid people. They make me go in a blind rage and then a sullen, saliva dripping stupor because I'm not sure how to wipe the planet of this scourge of stupidity that's spreading like a Malibu wild fire.

If you're not sure if I'm referring to you, then I probably am. Fucking fuckers. Stupid ass licks...

(I felt kind of dirty for writing bad words on my blog, reminds me of the days when I would scream as loud as I could into my pillow, "I hate that fucking hypocritical, right-winged, christian, mother." She never heard me, but if she did, she would have surely used liquid soap in my mouth and not the bar)

...and, yes, sometimes I hate myself. No one appears to be immune.

unique

I've been called "unique" and "unusual" by many people in my life and it recently dawned on me that it is not a compliment.

Bleeding all over the place

The Monthly Rag is International! It has been read in places like Africa, London, Singapore, South America and Australia! The search results are mainly from people who are interested in copraphilia or urologia and also, Clint Coxwell keeps clicking on the site. (Quit stalking me stalker!) I think he just wants to see if there are any more posts about him and dammit, now there is. (con artist: 2, me: 1)

Even though my resolution was to not drink before noon, I suppose that now I have an alleged international fan base of 2 followers, I should consider making steady and consistent withdrawals from my head bank and post more topics related to sexual fetishes and psychotic liars.

Resolution

For 2009, it actually crossed my mind that I should resolve to not drink every day of the year but, if 2009 is anything like 2008, my new year's resolution is that I won't drink every day of the year before noon.