U S of A-ssholes

Watching the news these days is pure torture. I’d rather be popping my man’s ass pimples than to sit and listen about how bad things are now and why things are the way they are. Everyone is pointing fingers to past presidents and placing the blame on anything and everything that could make an ounce of sense. No one seems to be getting the real picture.

It’s called karma, assholes.

Seriously, did you think we could just sail on over and rob people of the land they had been living without some sort of ass whipping? Do you think we could import innocent people on over to do the work we should have done without having to pay for it somehow? You really think we could have treated women as property and never have to hear about it again?

Doubtful.

I don’t care about past presidents and what they have done; this shit was bound to catch up with us sooner or later. You cannot do the idiotic things this country has done and expect no repercussion. So may I suggest you grab a hard hat, buckle your seatbelt, and enjoy the ride. It’ll be over – eventually.

A Hairy Situation

Every morning, it is the same damn war. After packing lunches and preparing breakfast, it comes down to mom vs. daughter’s hair. My daughter has very long hair and hates having it brushed. I finally agreed that she was old enough to accomplish the task herself and even bought a detangling spray to help her out a little. Problem is, she isn’t using it nor is she brushing her hair.

I’ve threatened to chop her hair off, but she saw right through that lie. I needed to come up with something more believable and it was the other night, while feeding my dogs, that I had a revelation.

I began telling my daughter if she didn’t take care of her hair that it would begin to fall out. I told her that it already started to look weak. I then clipped some of my golden retriever’s hair (an almost exact color match) and begin leaving it on her pillow, in the hood of her coat, and anywhere else she may notice it.

It was yesterday after dinner that she finally approached me. With a wad of hair in her hands, she asked if she started taking care of her hair, would it grow back or was it too late. I told her that the only surefire way to prevent more from falling out was to brush twice a day for at least a week and then at least once a day every day thereafter.

Needless to say, she is using the detangling spray and combing her hair as she should. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to figure out how to get my son to put his clothes in the hamper and not on the floor.

Doing It The Old Way

I've always wondered about those women who marry men much, much older than themselves. I wondered what they could possibly get in return from a relationship that odd. I decided to find out for myself.

I posted an ad on Craigslist looking for a man at least double my age (for those of you nosy enough, that would be a sixty year old gent). After sorting through two-thirds of the shit responses, I finally found him. We talked on the phone a few times and finally set up a date. I had no idea what to expect.

The old fart took me out to dinner. He talked constantly about the state of the world today and how shitty the economy was. There were references to taxes and healthcare and I think I dozed off shortly thereafter. At the end of the evening, he took me back home, kissed my cheek, and bid farewell.

Now, this is what I learned: These women are obviously not in it for the sex as this man had absolutely no intention of attempting to get in my pants. These women are not in it for the conversation and companionship as this man could ramble on and on to a point that made you want to slice your wrists.

My thoughts were confirmed -- these women are in it for the money. The old guy bought me the most expensive meal I've ever eaten out, I drank wine I couldn't even pronounce that also came with its own separate bill, and I rode in a car that would be fit for Obama himself.

If it wasn't for the fact that sex is a necessity with me, I would seriously entertain the thought of keeping Mr. Old Guy around, but alas, I'll leave him at the assisted living facility that I found him.