Darling Little Dick Doll

I am so sick and tired of Dick and his fucking antics. The man said we are over, packed his shit, and left the kids and I, yet he insists on texting me every damn day and makes up excuses to come over. Now that the grass is dormant and doesn't need mowing and he has changed the oil in my car, I do not need him over here for anything (except maybe for sex, but technically, I could get that anywhere). Enough is enough!

I've tried telling him that he didn't need to text me at all and that he wasn't welcome back home, but it goes in one ear and right out the other. Remembering that he said all men are visual creatures, I knew I had to think of some other way to reach him. I had to show him exactly what the hell NO meant.

Rummaging around the house, I had a brilliant idea. Most of Dick's shit had been sold, dumped, or boxed up and put in storage. He did have a few pairs of socks left in his drawer. My creativeness took over and before I knew it, I had made myself a lovely Dick doll. I proceeded to shove a fork in its side and take a picture. I then sent it via text to Dick with the following message:

Leave me the fuck alone or your dick will resemble the doll in the pic. Now fuck off!

Needless to say, it has been rather peaceful ever since. I'm not sure how long it will last, but I will enjoy it while I can. Now if you'll excuse me, FedEx just arrived with my brand new meat cleaver.

Life -- In A Bowl

The funniest thing happened this morning as I sat down to eat my bowl of cereal. It's as if the sugar went straight to my head and sparked something inside of me. I began thinking about life and all that it consists of. I felt the wheels begin to turn as I experienced the "Ohs" of such a revelation: Life revolves around these Basic 4 traits:

The first being that of a Bran Flake. You start out slow and boring. Not knowing much about anything, you often fall for everything. Often referred to as a Froot Loop, you usually rely on Lucky Charms and horoscopes. You soon realize that you have to grow up and take control.

Once you've gained a little wisdom, you become a Corn Flake. You begin telling jokes and trying to be everyone's friend. You find yourself playing pranks and Trix in hopes of having people laugh with you, not at you. Once you realize that the Mini Swirlz of comedy will only take you so far, you begin to change again.

You suddenly morph into a Frosted Flake. You've had it with being the little guy on the totem pole and begin to ice over. You get your Kix from putting other's in their place. You've become the queen bee in your Honey Comb and expect others to take notice. It's only when you realize they aren't that you see the need to change yet again.

You finally reach the point where you see that you can go much further by being kind and sweet. It's then that you become a Chocolate Flake. With your daily smiles and Cheerios, you notice that others flock to you as if you were the world's Fruit n Fiber. At last, you find happiness and this Post is Complete.

Suzie's School of De-Slut

Can someone please explain something to me: What is causing teenage girls in America today to wake up and decide, "Hey, I want to be a whore?"

As much as I would love to blame it on Miley Cyrus and her nearly nude shots and stripper pole dance, I cannot. This was going on way before she came along. I would love to blame it on Britney and her wonderful display of who-ha, but no -- I cannot. I would even adore being able to blame it on the added hormones in cow's milk these days, but that only gives them tits earlier, it doesn't turn them into sluts.

It seems everywhere I go these days, I am confronted with this dilemma. The poor girls are letting all their girly bits hang out, act as if they couldn't care less about who gets between their legs, and just look downright disgusting. I would love nothing more than to sit down with their parents and with the most sternest of faces, offer a whopping "What the fuck?" Something has to give.

I have decided to help these poor girls. They must not know any better, so someone should inform them. The next time I see ass crack, I will politely approach the offender and in as loud a voice as I can muster, I will announce it to her. The next time I see ungirly-like conduct, I will approach and ask how much does she charge. The next time I see one of these poor souls with their parents, I will walk over, introduce myself, and tell them if they need financial assistance to provide decent clothes for their daughter, I'd be happy to help. I'll then leave them my card which reads, "Miss Suzie's School of De-Slut -- turning ho's into ladies."

I'm sure none of this will go over well, but somebody has to do something, right?