… but Moose didn’t! 
Click on the image to pop by and tell her happy birthday.
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Random Crap from my Hard Drive - If you participate, post your link in the comments!
Some poor guy must have been proud of the spirit, pep and energy he displayed in his marching band, and posted it on a message board. So of course I had to be an asswipe and add some captions.
Toonces, you were so awesome.
And that’s it for this week’s edition of RCFMHD. Hint to newbies who want to try it: Have any backup files of old websites? Those are fun to go through. I had closed my heart for the past six years. I let myself go, gaining 80 pounds to make sure that loneliness would never tempt me into trying again - when you’re fat you don’t have those options. You were my friend and you became more. You made me feel again and I hate your guts for it. You were clear from the start that you were just using me. I hate you for making me see that, despite all my “no one will ever fuck me over again” bravado, I let you and let you and let you. You knew I loved you and you didn’t care. You knew I couldn’t extricate myself from you, and you still kept me around to feed your ego and fulfill your own needs. You made me desperate to make you love me. Desperate to prove to you I was worth more than a booty call, and more than “just friends” too. I never could prove that to you, and the failed effort proved to me that what everyone had always said or the way everyone had always behaved was true: there’s something wrong with me, I’m not worthy of ever being loved by anyone, I’m too fucked up to ever have a relationship, and the world would be better off without me. I really, really didn’t need to learn these things over again. Every man I see that looks like you, I’m reminded of these lessons. Over and over and over. I’m reminded that, despite how much you hurt me, I still want you, and I’m reminded about how pathetic I am. I’ve spent six years trying to shut my eyes to how the world sees me, and you pried them back open, and I hate you for it. I tried to force you to have feelings for me, to miss me when I’m gone, to depend on me, and you were up front that you wanted none of it, so the whole thing is my fault, but still I hate you for it. I put the mirror in your hands, forcing you to hold it up to me. Then I looked in it. But it’s you I hate for it. The Mighty Dyckerson’s unfortunate poop experience reminded me of an entry Christine made on her Infinitepink blog back in 2002. To this day, it’s one of my favorite examples of the epidemic of shitty (no pun intended) parenting we see in our society today. Plus, the way Christine wrote the story was so hilarious! Here it is:
About 4:00 or so last evening I decided to make a run to the grocery store to pick up a few things. I found everything I went there for, but I also returned home with something unexpected.I am now carrying around the mental image of the absolute worst temper tantrum I have ever seen pitched in public since 1967 (more on that ‘67 incident in an upcoming entry.) This scene was so profoundly horrifying that it was the last thing I thought of before I went to sleep and the first thing that came into my mind when I woke up. The store where I shop is located in the center of Soccermomville, Iowa. Which is right next to Daddysadoctorburg, of course. You can go there anytime of day and see an overly-liberal parent trying to reign in their spoiled rotten uber-brat of a child. It’s not uncommon to hear things like: “Hillary, I’ve asked you nicely 100 times now – please don’t open that package of cookies. Mommy is *starting* to get upset!” “Tommy – listen to me. Get down from that display case. Do you prefer the soup with the little stars, the letters, or the tiny dinosaurs? No… we’re not going to buy them all and mix them…” “Michael, honey – sit down! You know better than to stand up in the cart. Sit! Sit! Michael, if you throw those bananas again, I’ll spank…” It’s a constant thing, I tell you. The kids are in charge of the parents. Which is why the geniuses at my store have come up with a solution to keep children entertained and somewhat caged while their powerless parents wander aimlessly through the aisles trying to hold it together long enough to buy something for dinner. They made a shopping cart with a section on the front end that looks like a little car – steering wheel and all. Just shove your Apparently, all of that is worth is if the Which bring us to last night’s episode. Professional Dad was wheeling his cart of pre-packaged, microwavable shit haphazardly through the grocery store, and Little Johnny Snotmonster was in the “car” attached to the front end. Dad found everything on his list and decided it was time to check out. This was not a good choice, according to Johnny. How dare father come to this decision without consulting him first! I guess the inventors of the rolling, grocery Brat Mobile never stopped to think that most kids under the age of five will raise holy hell if something they enjoy is taken away from them. I am not exaggerating when I say this: I saw this adorable blonde, chubby-cheeked preschool boy turn into a snarling, kicking, spitting demon in 3.5 seconds flat as WonderDad attempted to pry his writhing body from that “car”. The kid let out this blood curdling scream that was so awful, the old lady next to me in the checkout line started to shake and dropped a jar of pickles. “AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaarooooooohhhhhaaaaawaaaaaaaaahhh!” “Let go of the cart; we have to buy the groceries now and get home. Mommy is waiting for us.” “Aaaaaaaaaaiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!” Boy inflicts violent kicking, slapping and hairpulling on Daddy. Daddy just takes it. “Would someone please take this cart away as soon as I get him out of it? That might work,” asks Daddy. Horrified clerks and customers watch and listen, mouths gaping. The store manager directs the checkout boys to rush to the father’s aide. They will do anything to shut up that kid up and get them out of the store as soon as possible. They whisk the ‘car’ away as soon as Daddy pries Junior’s grubby little fingers off the steering wheel and extricates him from it. “Aaaaarrrrrrrrrrggggggarooooooooo!!! I HATE YOU DADDY! I HATE YOU!” Picture snot bubbles bursting furiously from the kid’s nose as he sobs, wails and goes all Jackie Chan on Daddy. “I’m sure you do, son. That’s ok. It’s alright to be angry.” The boy, who has now been set down on the floor because of the uncontrollable thrashing, now begins to bang his head against the checkout counter with a deafening *kaboom*kaboom*kaboom*. The horrendous screaming gets even worse than ever. Daddy’s legs are now being beaten to a pulp as the groceries are scanned and he shakily tries to write out the check. Onlookers gather around and stare, transfixed, wondering what will happen next. In all of my life, I never would have predicted what DID happen next. “I HATE YOU DADDYYyyyyyy *groaaaaannn*grunnnnnnnnt…**GRRRRRuuuuunnnn**…..” came out of the monster’s beet-red face. You guessed it. The little tyrant crapped his pants!! A three-year-old who can shit on command! Who knew?? Never in a million years would I have thought of using that tactic when I was a kid. “Son, you didn’t… please tell Daddy that you didn’t do that.” “I diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid!!!!!! I HATEYOOOOOOOOOOOOUuUuUuuuuuu!!!” A collective “Eewww!” goes up from the crowd, and everyone backs up. Some of us busted out laughing. Ok, I busted out laughing. I couldn’t help it — I was in some sort of bewildered shock. Daddy picks up the kid, who is still bellowing and now has runny, wet brown spots seeping through the legs of his corduroys, and wrestles him a bit to keep from getting slapped in the face again. “I think I’ll need drive-up for this tonight…” No shit, Daddy Sherlock. Drive-up, a tranquilizer gun, and an exorcist. It seemed to take an eternity for the man and the stinky boy to make it to the door. Everyone was motionless until the automatic door swung shut behind them. We could still hear the kid through the storefront window, but at least we didn’t fear for our lives any more. Slowly, the tension broke and people started chuckling about what they had just witnessed. Some guy in the next line over laughingly said: “That reminds me. I have to buy some condoms…” No kidding! I bet half the guys in the store did after seeing that! BTW, here is what I wrote back in her comments section: “YES YES YES! That is EXACTLY what I’m talking about. It would take MORE ENERGY for the dad to just leave his groceries, grab the kid, leave the store, take him home, do time out or whatever yuppie shit is in style, and next time say “you can’t come to the store because you threw a temper tantrum last time” No, that’s too much effort. So, the dad does the lazy, psychobabble shit. And all the while, patting himself on the back for being THE MOST EXCELLENT parent. Parents like that are NOT DOING THEIR KIDS ANY FAVORS.” I fear for our society, I really do. Open letter to all you stupid fucking yuppie parents who think you’re so smart: QUIT READING THE “FEEL GOOD” BOOKS AND RAISE YOUR DAMN KID, YOU LAZY ASS! Society has rules, and they’re not set by three year olds. Society should not bend to meet the whims of your nose-picking child. Guess what? Your child and his/her fragile flower of an ego needs to bend to fit into society. Teach them that now, and maybe come high school age, they won’t show up at their school with an automatic weapon because they didn’t get to watercolor in art class like they wanted! (Christine, I don’t remember you ever making the entry about the ‘67 incident. If you did, could you link it?)
My dad actually took off work one afternoon to accompany my mother and Sparky to the vet for his Well Puppy visit. My mom is home with Sparky all day, and the woman who hasn’t photographed me once in the past 12 years is now taking hundreds of pictures of the dog. The woman who would go two weeks without talking to me now calls several times a week with Sparky updates. True to my mom’s fashion, she never listens to a word I say. I wonder what would happen if I REALLY tested her during our last conversation? (Quotes from my mom’s side of the conversation actually happened; quotes from my side MAY have involved some creative license.) Mom: Sparky is so smart, he can close the door of his crate behind him! Me: Aww, that’s cute! Hey, did I tell you about the job interview I went on Friday? It was horrible to drive into downtown Denver, I… Mom: You know, the other day Sparky sat and just stared out of the front door for almost an HOUR! He is SO SMART! Me: Awww, that’s cute! Anyway, at the interview… Mom: Now he’s digging under my leg! What are you digging for puppy? Who’s so cute? You’re so cute! Yes you are! Yes you are! Me: So I don’t think that job is for me. I’m so discouraged! Will I ever be happy? I don’t think I’ll ever be happy. That’s it. I’m almost 40 and I fail at life. I… I have nothing to live for! Mom: Sparky loves to get under the covers with us in the mornings! All you can see is a big bump bouncing around under the covers! Me: Why do I even try? I think I’m going to end it all. Right now. * sound of chair scraping across the floor, and fumbling around in drawers for rope * Mom: Sometimes Sparky bites your father’s toes and we know he shouldn’t do it but he’s so funny, we just laugh and laugh! Me: This is it! Tell Visa and Discovercard I said, “Try to collect from me now, motherfuckers!” I regret nothing! * sound of chair falling over and phone hitting the floor * Mom: And Sparky only had one accident in the house yesterday! But you can’t blame him, it was raining outside! You can’t expect a dog to pee outside if it’s wet out… well, I gotta go get Sparky his pre-dinner treat. Bye! ______________________________________ (It’s actually really cute how much my parents love that dog.) I like going to Lauren’s blog and to her two dog’s blog daily. She’s a great photographer, but beyond that, her world is such a lovely oasis in the blogland of conflict, cynicism and bad news (a blogland that I admittedly contribute to). She is always videoing or photographing her dogs, and she captured such a sweet scene between her and her fiance, I had to post the link to the video. Awww! Her house is a magical world and everything that lies within is life-affirmingly adorable. I’m late for work and don’t have time to write, so here’s a scientific illustration that I did a few years ago, describing the life cycle of a sperm. I hope you find it helpful. Drinkers of bottled water, don’t think you’re protected either.
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Why I think people in Ohio are whiny little bitches, what with their pissy little 20 inches of snow. Call me when it goes over four feet, then we’ll have something to talk about! (Winks at 
As many of you know, I got my parents a puppy for Christmas. At first it didn’t look like a good idea; my mother hates animals, my dad was determined that he was through with dogs because they are “too much trouble”. However, from the minute they met Sparky, it has been true love!
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