Hey, don't inflict your bad taste on me, muthafucka!

No secret, I have issues with gaudy or stupid holiday lawn displays. Excessive lights are one thing, but those idiotic blow up Santas or Christmas trees or present opening puppies or snowmen or whatever else...for some reason, they irritate the crap out of me.

But they pale in comparison to some of the sick shit found here.

That'll probably do it for me until I'm back from vacation.

So Happy New Year, everyone! Let's get pissed, shall we?

Sweet.

Not much today, still on vacation. But I thought this was hilarious.

Right...back to ...other things.

Happy Holidays, from the Rabbit Girl

Right. Ready to begin my Christmas vacation. I may not do many posts between now and January 3, which will be nice for everyone.

Merry Christmas to all my lovely readers, and those three or four of you who piss me off*, too. See how generous and kind I can be when the seasonal spirit is upon me?





*Except for you, Matt. I'll be keeping an eye on the comments, ready to delete your inarticulate ass, the second you appear. And don't try to sign on as somebody else either. Your shitty spelling will identify you. You little shit. Coal in your stocking, boy, COAL.

While I'm on the subject of body 'art'

STUPID CUNT:

...ENOUGH WITH THE DAMN PIERCING ALREADY.

Tattoos are one thing, but I am SICK TO FUCKING DEATH of navel rings, nose rings, eyebrow rings, genitalia piercing bullshit...all of it. It is fucking IDIOCY. STOP IT.

If you were born in the United States, in the 20th Century, and not in some African tribe in any other fucking century, it is NOT PART OF YOUR FUCKING CULTURAL BACKGROUND, and you cannot adopt other people's cultural background without looking like a total twat. It does not make you cool and rebellious and sexy. It makes you look like a conformist, faddish cunt, with no respect for yourself or your individuality. Are you trying to shock? IT DOESN'T FUCKING WORK ANYMORE. It stopped working in the late 80's, so just find some other way.

And you parents who allow your children of under 18 to get pierced anywhere but their earlobes...you're cunts too. If I had a daughter, and she asked for a navel ring for her 13th birthday, I would lock her up.

This mother in the Boston area whose 13 year old daughter nearly fucking DIED from an infection caused by a cheap navel ring? Should be eaten by rats.


...oh, and on another subject entirely: Johnny Damon - Fuck off.

That got me thinking...

I'm going to offend some people with today's post, some of them close friends and people I really do love, but fuck it, this is how I feel.

So, yesterday's post about the asshole with all the bad Disney tattoos got me to thinking about tattooing in general.

Here's the thing: I think there is entirely too much tattooing going on right now.

I have no objection to a little body art, here or there, to commemorate some huge life event, to remind one of some great adversity you've survived, if you MUST have some kind of permanent, visible reminder, other than your arse still pointing south. (Surviving cancer or a terrorist attack would be about the only things I can think of that would be that HUGE. Getting out of prison or finally being able to afford a new trailer doesn't fucking cut it, Cleetus.) I've toyed with the idea of getting something on my upper arm, something small that I could cover up or show at will, depending upon the occasion. But tattoos are permanent, and I have yet to find anything that means as much to me one day as the next, or represents something big enough in my life. So until something worthy presents itself, or until I NEED to have the symbol of some great pain, adversity, etc., upon my body FOREVER, I'm ink-free.

The point is, it's supposed to MEAN something. You don't want to walk into a tattoo parlor, just pick a design off the wall and get ink PERMANENTLY INJECTED into your skin, just because that day you thought that design was pretty. "Uhhhhh...*giggle*...I'll get the butterfly." Fuck off, Misty. You're clearly too stupid to be let out on your own. And all these idiot females with these tribal designs on their lower back, that they have NO IDEA about what they represent or what it'll look like when they have a few more years and pounds worth of mileage on them. Jesus.

As Milk & Cheese once said, "Yeah, let's adopt the tribal customs of foreign people, without any of the scary, foreign religious or cultural significance. YEAH!!!"

Now that everyone has a tattoo of something, it seems we're not supposed to make judgments about a person's character, capabilities, intelligence, class, etc. Well, let's face it. We do. It used to be just hardended criminals, bikers, women of easy virtue, and tough military types who had tattoos. I'm not talking about a little something here or there that you can cover up, I'm talking about a tattoo that is VISIBLE to everyone around you, that you cannot cover up unless you're sporting a burkha, in which case, you'd have been killed for even thinking about getting a tattoo... Like it or not, when you see a tattoo that is visible on a person's face or neck, unless they're a fucking Maori warrior, you think "what a stupid dick."

Here's what goes with facial or neck tattoos: Criminal records

Here's what DOESN'T go with facial or neck tattoos: Jobs

In my hometown, though I didn't realize it when I was living there because I was probably too young, there was evidently a big class division between the locals and the people who went to the liberal arts college situated there. In recent years, a fight broke out between some local kids after a party, and one of the students from this college got caught up in it and was stabbed to death. The kid who was arrested, charged and convicted of the crime juuuuuust happened to have a shaved head, and devil's horn tattoos on his fucking head.

...the fuck?

Whether the kid is guilty or not (hey, it could have been accidental, and he was supposed to be considered innocent until proven guilty) the tattoos HAD to have influenced the jury. I'm sure the kid's defense asked the jury to look beyond the head tattoos, at this "gentle, sweet kid, who has had a tough life." Seems to me, though, if you go out of your way to get devil's horns tattooed upon your fucking head, you are creating a persona for yourself. You have created a persona to which murder and mayhem are intrinsic, and a perfectly logical eventuality. Asking people to look beyond that is a little naive, doncha think?

My obsessions are private.

"I lost a daughter, I lost 5 wives because of it. I spend every cent I have on it - but that's it. It's my love, it's my life."

What an utter twat.

Genius!

Much talk recently of political correctness taking over Christmas. Most of us don't give a shit what it's called, since we're really only in it for the presents anyway, but I just laughed out loud reading Pisser's post for today.

Everybody, quick, run over to The Pissed Kitty and take a look at her re-named Christmas Carol list.

I bow to the mastery.

Friday is shit weather day

Readers in the Boston area will note that this is the second Friday in a row of absolutely weird, shite, miserable weather. I try to make it a point never to complain about cold, snow, rain, etc., since I am not cut out at all for heat and humidity* and consequently do all of my whining in the summertime, when nasty yellowface burns my ivory paleness and hurts my delicate eyes. I guess I'm one of those ice people of the north. Happiest in a sweater and big boots.

So...I am quite enjoying the dreary wetness outside, and will only grumble a bit to myself about the slushy, icy sidewalks, which necessitate a silly walk when I go outside. But that's the extent of it.

I think an Irish Coffee will just about do it. Yep. Happy Friday all, cheers and OUT.

*Spent my honeymoon in Aruba and thought I would literally DIE from the heat. I held out until the last minute for Newfoundland, Nova Scotia or Prince Edward Island, but my husband, whom I affectionately call "my little guinea," with his mediterranean sensibility, wanted a WARM honeymoon. I would have hiked the Cabot Trail, but he wanted beach. It's about compromise. And I DID enjoy myself...ate and drank like a pig and had a constant rum-buzz. Still, if I ever get talked into flying anywhere again, I get to pick...and we're going NORTH. That is all.

Customer service in this country

...is going straight down the toilet.

Recently, I left my first ever negative feedback on ebay. I hated to do it, I gave the seller many chances to avoid it, but I had no choice. I'm a nice person, and having been in retail, I know that sometimes shipping takes longer than you like, and mistakes and problems occur that were unforeseen and take time to fix. This seller is NOT an individual, but a company, that claims big things, and does not deliver. Here's my tale:

1.November 2, I bid on, and win, a FRAMED PRINT. I read the fine print, which says "prints and frames ship from separate locations and sometimes arrive within a few days of each other." Well, okay, so they really shouldn't call it a FRAMED PRINT in the description then, should they? They should say "PRINT AND FRAME," right? Oh well...No big deal, it's cheap enough, I'll pop the thing in the frame myself, no harm done. (Except that the FRAMED PRINT was listed as $9.99, and once the shipping and insurance was added, I'd paid almost 50 BUCKS!)

2. I get 3 or 4 automated e-mails from the company about gift certificates, special offers, raffles, etc. Fine...I don't need any of that stuff, but I'll hang onto the e-mails, in case I need to contact them. Still a little peeved at the shipping charges.

3. The print arrives (from New York) in almost three weeks time from the time of purchase. Okay, it took a while, but if they're big and busy, I can see how it'd take some time. No worries. I'll expect the frame any day. (Really peeved at the shipping charges now, because the postage on the print was less than 2 bucks.)

4. Frame does not arrive within a few days of print, as stated in their shipping information. I start e-mailing the company. Politely ask things like "hey, just wondering about an E.T.A. on that frame. I'm anxious to start enjoying the print." No answer. I send three such e-mails over the course of two weeks. No answer. No answer, no answer.

5. December arrives, still no frame, still no e-mail reply about the ETA on the frame. I have NO IDEA where the thing is, if they're looking into it, if they even care that the last e-mail I sent was something like "I don't want to leave negative feedback, but if I don't get a reply TODAY, I will." No answer.

6. I leave negative feedback 5 weeks after ordering and paying for the FRAMED PRINT.

7. I get an e-mail from these arseholes THROUGH EBAY, asking me to retract my negative feedback. No direct communication from the company saying "we're looking into where that frame could be," or "the frame is set to arrive on such and such a date," NOTHING. They leave bad feedback for me, saying " customer well-informed and still left negative. POOR." HUH???? The lying fucks.

8. So, I contact them directly again, saying "Hey, I didn't want to leave bad feedback, I contacted you guys 5 times now, and haven't had a reply. I'll retract the negative when I get the frame, OR a direct communication from you guys, saying you're looking into it. Not one second before." I give them my daytime phone number. NO ANSWER.

9. I STILL have no frame, and have not heard from this company AT ALL. I'm about to report them to ebay. Fuck them. It's been 6 weeks, and they couldn't ship a frame from NEW YORK TO BOSTON in that time? They couldn't contact me? They couldn't even reply to an e-mail?

Fuck you Adam Hersh auctions, and the horse you rode in on.

Tsho There!

Last night, I ACCIDENTALLY set one of my cats on fire. (SHE'S FINE!!!)

She was on the stove as I was turning it on, I was just thinking, "she really shouldn't be up here, but this'll scare her off..." But then I turned on the gas, and Whoosh! Wee Olive got herself a bit singed. The smell was awful.

But I spent most of the night apologizing, and even after she broke my Venetian glass rabbit, I couldn't scold her. I owed her that. She can probably break something every day from now until New Year's and I'll think, "okay, I deserved that."

Jesus.

Whatever your feelings on capital punishment...

I'm not sure Tookie Williams should have been executed. And I feel very torn about the whole issue about the death penalty. I have heard valid arguments for and against, and...well, I'm just glad it's not up to me to make that call.

But I just wonder whether the decision of life or death should be in the hands of people I wouldn't trust to cat-sit.

...and here I was, thinking we were trying to have a fucking civilization here.


EDIT: I did NOT post this hoping for an argument in the comments, for or against the death penalty. No one is going to "change my mind" about this particular news item, and I will not be drawn into a discussion on the topic of capital punishment as a whole. Okay? I'm only saying....

They didn't make it easy...

...but in the end I got my tickets. Not the best seats in the house, but still...orchestra.

I'm going to see the FUCKING POGUES!!!

Now, if we can keep Shane alive until March, and sober enough on the day of the show...it's really all I ask.

It would be a bonus, dare I ask, but...for God's sake, somebody buy that man some teeth!!

Fit to be tied.

SO: The Pogues pre-sale was a non-event.

Turns out the e-mail I got that informed me of the presale was a MISTAKE. Ticketmaster fucked up, they weren't even HANDLING the presale. In a moment of urgency, I threw up a hail mary, and sent a reply to the original e-mail that they'd sent to inform me about the presale, basically saying "HELP - the presale isn't working."

I actually got some help, a kind person at the other end actually replied to me, saying they were looking into it. A few hours later, I got another e-mail from this kind and wonderful human being, (thank you Dana, whoever you are), and it turns out that you had to sign up for a presale through the Pogues web site. That sale started at 6pm.

At 6pm on the dot, I logged in, asked for 4 tickets in the higher price range, and it said it couldn't process it because either they didn't have four in that range at all or 4 in the same row...didn't specify. Went back to try for two tickets, and was informed that the entire pre-sale was SOLD OUT. So, by 6:01pm, the entire presale was over.

Well, I'm no fucking fool. I know exactly what happened. FUCKING TICKET BROKERS got all the presale tickets...in one minute. Now they will be re-selling them, at HUGELY inflated prices, to desperate people who will have no choice...and NEVER DID have a chance to buy the tickets at the regular price, through legal means.

Something must be done. Something must be done.

Ticket brokers, I hate you. You suck, and you will go to hell when you die. Every last fucking one of you. Yes, I'm looking at YOU.

I WILL get tickets to this concert, despite you cunts. I don't care that Shane McGowan is practically DEAD and hasn't a tooth left in his mouth. I don't care that they're all old and past their prime. I WILL see the Pogues. If I have to stab a scalper outside the show with his own hard, jagged soul and steal his tickets...I will.

And Thursday is...

Thursday is... well, I'm sorry to say it, but Thursday is Ticketmaster SUCKS day.

Trying to get some Pogues tickets (original lineup, first tour in 15 years) through a presale they sent me an e-mail about yesterday. Well...it's not fucking working, is it. The fucking link goes to a site that says, "tickets for this event are not for sale yet," even though the presale notification I got yesterday said 10am today, "just click here to buy tickets."

Well, I mean, people! If you are going to advertise an internet presale and send e-mails to people, here's an idea: ACTUALLY HAVE A FUCKING PRESALE.

You can't call Teaparty Concerts...there's no number available. You can't call the venue...you get a recording that says, "Tickets for this event go on sale Saturday." And NO HUMAN will help you.

GAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wednesday is Addiction Day...

....Evidently.

Right, my addictions. Well...I really only have two.

The first, and one that I don't think I'll ever get over, or want to, is to real, pulp-filled, sweet, NOT FROM CONCENTRATE Orange Juice. I simply MUST start every single day with at least a shot of the stuff. Hits the mouth with its cold, sour, magical loveliness, providing a quick shot of natural sugar, cleaning out the oral cobwebs. Simply cannot live without it. Do not attempt to sneak any FROM CONCENTRATE shite past me, I will KNOW. And it will absolutely RUIN my day.

My second addiction is coffee. And it's very specific, this coffee I must have. You see, there are two types of coffee drinkers in the world; Starbuck's people and Dunkin' Donuts people. I am firmly in the Dunkin' Donuts camp. It's a smooth, soothing cuppa, with no disastrous gastric side effects, very comforting indeed.



I have a special relationship with the lovely people who work in the Dunkin' Donuts in the Harvard Square T Station in Cambridge. My order is ready, to my exact liking, without my having to open my mouth to order it, sometimes while I'm several spaces back in the line, always served with a smile, a hello, and a friendly inquiry as to how I am, how my weekend was, etc. What would I do without them? Sweet, sweet blue-collar, down-to-earth people.

Not like those snobby laxative peddlers at Starbuck's, with their fancy ways.

Coolest animals EVER.

Fucking hell, I love bats!!! They fucking rule.

Some types of bats eat their weight in mosquitoes every night. If there's anything I hate, it's blood-sucking fucking mosquitoes. This is the perfect illustration of the old adage, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend." Mosquitoes are the worst things in the world. I'm one of those unfortunate souls who gets eaten alive at dusk in the summer months, while others are untouched. Fuckity fuck. Why don't you leave me alone, you little disease-ridden bastards? I shall have to sic a bat on your ass.

I think people who own exotic pets are cunts, generally. But I wouldn't say no if somebody offered me one of these bats they call flying foxes. Look at this cute little fucker:

Some day, when I have a house, I will put a couple of bat houses up. I hope they attract a few colonies of whatever bug-eating bats are indigenous to the region. Then those little bastard mosquitoes will KNOW they are not welcome in the vicinity of me.

Less hungover than Friday

...but more hungover than either Saturday or Sunday. I wasted two perfectly good non-work-nights being sober, and then went and wrecked another school night with drink. You see, chirren, I went to see U2 at the TD-Bank-North-Boston-Garden-Fleet-Center-Auditorium-Thingy last night. And, well, you can't go and see U2 without a brace of beers under the belt and then a nightcap of Guinness to round things out. Can you? No, you cannot. Indeed.

What am I forgetting? What's that? Oh, the show? It was good!

That fella from Bush who married Gwen Stefani opened up. Remember him? He's got a new band, evidently, though I don't really know much about Bush, or this new thing... Isn't it sad, though, that he's going to go down in rock history as "that fella that married Gwen, can't quite remember his name?" I suspect this could end up one of those "A Star is Born" scenarios. Rock star marries up and coming female star, and soon her career eclipses his. Then he drinks himself silly and drowns himself.

How very uncharitable of me. I would probably like his stuff, if I'd give it a listen. He did sound pretty good last night, though to be honest I was in a beer line for a good 30 minutes during his set.

EDIT: I just re-read this and thought, "fuck me, justbreathe28's right, I didn't say enough about U2, makes it sound like I wasn't impressed or something...better correct that now." Hence, this: U2 is fucking fantastic, amazing show, all I expected, full of energy, fun, the obligatory social conscience, and 'message,' yadda yadda yadda...but that goes without saying. Also, so far this year, they've done about a million shows in Boston, so by the time they're done, EVERYONE in the Boston area will have seen the show, it'll be reviewed about eleventy billion times, and I won't really have added anything to the literature on the subject. Over and fucking out, ya cunts.

I am up.

The advantage to having a raging hangover on a Friday is this. When you wake up Saturday feeling normal, normal feels fucking fantastic. You know...all things being relative.

New low.

Ummm...you guys? I only had two dollars in my pocket and couldn't be arsed to go to the bank. This is what I'm having for lunch.

That's bad, isn't it.

EDIT: Notice the halo of light around the can. The White Cheddar...It's ethereal, non?

Edit 2: Blogger is fucked and won't let me comment, so I have to put my thoughts here. Will we never be set free?

Anyway, I've found out how Pringles are made: They shoot potato mash through a teeny tiny hole, at such velocity that it's actually the friction that 'cooks' them.

Disgusting, but I never deny a craving. I've got a lindt chocolate truffle lodged in my teeth just now...

Perfect Pet Series I

(Used to be a picture of a hamster peeing in the toilet here. Stopped working. Meh.)

This damn hamster is using the toilet. It is the end times.

Speaking of end times...the fucking Bruins beat the Senators last night! I know it's only one game, and it's too soon to tell whether these new guys will be the missing piece...but the B's won...against the Senators...in a shutout...with Dominik Hasek in goal...what the...

.....am I dreaming?

In other happy Friday news: Hockey fans, run to your newsstand right now and buy the latest issue of The Hockey News. The entire issue is devoted to "the lighter side of hockey," and features the Hanson Brothers.

Non-hockey fans, go rent Slap Shot, then we can talk.

Happy Friday, my lovelies!

To the Bruins:

You BASTARDS better know what you're doing. Last night, when my husband came in and told me you'd traded Captain Joe Thornton, my heart sank, my eyes welled up, and a murderous rage came over me. The whole thing sounded too much like a desperation move. This morning, several sports writers I respect (Jackie McMullen, among them) actually kind of defended the move, saying that Joe doesn't really have an "edge" and that he's too nice a guy, too mellow and laid-back, to provide the kind of spirit and leadership the team needs right now.

Well, be that as it may, you guys didn't enamor yourselves to any fans last night. He's a favorite of mine, and the hero of thousands of Bruins fans. I guess time will tell. And you DID get THREE decent players for him...

But I'm just sad.

You fuckers better know what you're doing.

Oh dear!

take the WHAT BAD BOOK ARE YOU test.


and go to mewing.net. not as good as reading a good book, but way better than a bad one.