Friday, December 28, 2012

Christmas mess

Boxes, wrapping paper, tags, and tape strewn about, mixed together with toys, clothes, books, and other miscellaneous gifts, can fuck the fuck off.  It is completely impossible to clean up as you go when small children are opening gifts.  My daughter, in particular, fishes wrapping paper back out of the trash because it's pretty.

Who the hell came up with the brilliant idea of boxing and wrapping stuff in the first place? Whoever had that wonderful epiphany can fuck off so hard that eighteen generations of their ancestors and descendents feel raw from it, and bitch-slap them when they meet them in the afterlife.

Friday, December 21, 2012


I've got a short list this morning.
  • Psychos that shoot up gun free zones, especially schools, can fuck the fuck off so hard that their great-grandparents feel it.
  • Parents that don't give their children a solid foundation from which to build their lives, leaving an empty spot inside them and lacking knowledge that there is such a thing as evil (rather than just "bad choices") can fuck the fuck off.
  • Churches that have become wishy-washy, not teaching their people that there is such a thing as sin, much less what the Bible says it is, or condemning it when people do it.  And that don't teach about hell, and the consequences of sin.  People that don't fear consequences don't fear committing evil acts.
  • Politicians using dead children to push their own agendas, whatever they may be, the day of and the day after a tragedy can fuck off.  That's not only tasteless and wrong, it increases the pain of the parents involved.
  • Last up: Christmas shoppers.  Christmas shoppers crowding the roads and parking lots and stores, paying attention to nothing and no one but themselves.  They can fuck off so hard that their asses implode.

Friday, December 14, 2012


My son's absolute inability to sleep past seven a.m., no matter how late I permit him to stay up, can FTFO.  So can his inclinations to go looking for his sister, and wake her up for company. 

I was awakened this morning by the wails of a strongly unhappy little girl who really wasn't ready to wake up.  She's in the sleepy part of a growth spurt.  I bet that, if she could, wasn't asleep again, and had the terminology (and if Mama wouldn't wash her mouth out with soap), she'd tell her brother to FTFO.

I sympathize.  I wasn't ready to get up, either.

Friday, December 7, 2012

fear of food, food nannies, or whatever you want to call it

I recently bought a new small bag of decaf coffee.  It's some of the better flavored decaf I've ever had, so no complaints, there.

It's Churchill brand coffee, and the flavor is "sinless pastry."

Sinless.  Pastry.  Like eating a pastry, one with calories, is a sin.  Not just no, but fuck no.  It is not a fucking sin to eat a fucking treat once in a fucking while.  It isn't really a sin to eat boxes of them because a person doesn't know better, never grew past the "I'm a grownup, now, and can eat what I want, and nobody can tell me any different" stage, or because that's what they can afford for breakfast (have you seen the cost of basic, off-brand cereal, lately?). 

It's not a sin to eat.  Not even if a person weighs roughly half as much as a killer whale, and has to get around on a scooter. 

And I am so fucking sick of society trying to make me feel guilty for fucking enjoying my food.