Open Letter to the Octomom

Dear Octomom,


You are crazy.

You are beyond crazy actually. There is something medically wrong with you; some sort of chemical imbalance. I am not sure there are any drugs out there that can actually touch the depth of your nuttiness. You are fruitier than Rupaul. You make Amy Winehouse appear as an upstanding citizen. I did waht I swore would never do. I supported you by watching your "Untold Video" show last night on Fox. I contributed to the delinquency of an assbag. I feel dirty, like I just watched 'The Crying Game,' sucking my thumb in the corner of the shower. That is a thumb , right?

First of all, let's just cover the plastic surgery denial. NO ONE, without some allergy to histamine, has lips like yours. No one. Jimmy Walker is saying DYNOMITE to your lips. Shaquille O'Neal uses them for shade. You are banned from the ocean because you might cause a Tsunami. Your speech creates a Category 1 windstorm, OK? Do you understand where this is going? Just admit, like most of the world, you think Angelina Jolie is sexy. It's OK to admit it. I find it ironic there are before pictures where you looked all....well, pathetically homely. Bums would give you money in your before pictures. The Taliban actually threw down there weapons when someone said YOU WERE AMERICAN. They felt bad. Don't say you haven't had work done because it is painfully obvious you have. Sort of like Cher. She has a reason. She wanted to be the first performer to have actually performed in 3 different eras. The Paleolithic, the Mesoteric and some other one that starts qith the letter Q. Give it a rest already.

Another thing that bothered me was your perception that your life was simply thrust upon you and you did not want all of this attention. Why on EARTH, then, would you shove 8 ....ing babies inside your vagina? Was it to NOT have attention? Are you seriously that ....ing narrow minded to think that the only set of surviving octuplets would NOT gather some sort of dramatic effect??? You called Kate Gosselin an attention whore. That statement is more or less true. I don't think she upset her marriage is over as so much that the cameras will officially add 10 pounds to only her with Jon out of the picture. She pails n comparison to what you seek. You are now using your kids as your own personal ATM card. It's sad really. It's sad that your Mom was right about you. You are stupid and nuts. Welcome to Mother's Day that will have nothing to do with you.

Finally, I just needed to remind you that you have 6 other kids. For someone working towards a Master's Degree, you sure are stupid. What is the degree in, single motherhood? When will you go to school, actually? Will you show up on the Today Show in the year 2050 as an 88-year old getting her Master's Degree because "you always knew that no one could take that away from you?" I want so badly to take away your viable uterus and give it to someone that cannot have kids of their own so that they can witness the joy of ONE baby. Your excuse to having a hockey team is you love babies. Babies grow up to be virile, reactive teenagers. Then what? I can't wait when one of them overreacts and bitch-slaps you, calling you a bitch as he walks away. Oh wait, your 2-year old did that already. What are you going to teach these kid's other than they need to rely on other's to help exist? You are a volume of Encyclopedia Britannica's on Mediocrity. There is nothing about you that is appealing. Good luck getting 8 kids in time out all at once.

Please do me a favor. Don't home school these kids. This is the one time that public schools might help them. It HAS to be better than what you can teach them. Also, throw food away that is freezer burnt. I get the impression you are a pack rat that keeps frozen food wayyyyy too long. Kind of like embryos. Let them go already. Its toolate now that they are born, so do your best and let other people teach them about life. Your lessons suck. No kissing Cacti, lest facial deflation will occur.

Signed,

America

Strike One, Strike Two...

The DMV sucks. I don't even need to tell anyone that. It is a given. Sort of like Starr Jones DID have gastric bypass, the Grand Canyon IS a big hole in the ground and Courtney Love DOES need to fall into it. It makes sense. I have been in Washington State for 2 years now, almost to the day, moving from Idaho. I still had my Idaho license. It expires in 2011 so I didn't see the need to get a WA license right away. Unless I got pulled over, which I did not long ago for going 65 in a 55 miles per hour construction zone with an Idaho license, Washington plates, and Washington registration, which I couldn't find, nor could I find the proof of insurance. But that is another story. The DMV sucks.

I went down there at 6:45AM this morning, Saturday. My wife had told me that when she got there at 7:15 the previous Saturday, she was 6th in line. I figured at 6:45, I would be first. I was wrong. I turned out to be 9th, which I think I should have gotten a participant ribbon for, similar to placing 9th out of 10 in a race. Yay...here is your ribbon, thanks for playing. The DMV opens at 8:30AM. I had time to kill. The guy next to me was a cool guy so we passed the time talking about how life sucks standing in line at the DMV, SPEAKING ENGLISH, while others are carrying on a conversation in a dialect I am not familiar with, but if I were I could be employed in just about any place in this stupid town. Sidetracked...sorry. Doors open. I had a utility bill, my social security card, my old license, me, keys, phone, a dead pheasant, a goose decoy (headless), some moccasins, and a rabbit's foot key chain. I figured with all this shit I should have no problem getting my license. I was number 001. SWEET! Guy at the counter, extremely happy his heart is beating, asks for three forms of identification. I gave him my old license, my social security card and the utility bill. He needs one more.

Strike one....

I asked him what I needed. Birth certificate, he says. I help up the dead pheasant. He shook his head. He said no to the decoy, the moccasins (that had my initials on them) and the decoy that said BRACK on it. Shit. He said go get something from list B (which none of the shit I trucked in there was on the list....my bad) and come to the window. I left, drove home and got a copy of the birth certificate. I returned to his window, handed him the CERTIFICATE OF LIVE BIRTH (copy) and he said great, but it isn't certified. Shit. I told him it was. He said it could be forged. Right, because I give two shits about having this license. I don't even really want to be me. Why would I make ME up?

Strike two...

I asked him what else would suffice. He said a rabbit's foo....OK, he didn't say that. He said anything from list B which he then handed me a copy of what is acceptable from that list. A yearbook photo. I have one of those. He said if I can look at your photo and then recognize you, it will work. Jesus, that was 18 years ago. If I did look the same, I would need to see a doctor, or sell the secret to eternal youth. In which case, I would buy this building and tear it down with you in it. I ran home, found the ONE copy of a certified birth certificate, obtained in 1985 for Little League to prove I was, in fact, a 12-year old Caucasian and not a 31-year old defector from Guatemala. I returned, hoping to God it would work as it was now 9:30AM. It did. I had my photo taken. I now know why people take shitty DMV photos. Smile? re you kidding? The hoop jumping did me in Steven Welch, License Representative.

I hate you, Steven Welch, and hope you get ass-raped by a big, phucking grizzly. let me know if you smile after that......dick.

The 'S' is Silent

Arkansas.

I have never been to Arkansas, but I can assure you that the 'S' at the end is silent. There is no Ark in Kansas, at least not to my knowledge. I actually heard a high school graduate state that the state with the highest level of poverty in the United States was ArkansaS, accentuating the "S" at the end. I looked at the person sitting to my left to validate if what I heard actually occurred. Sure enough, we both saw the same unicorn bound across the classroom. She had a hard time pronouncing Louisiana, saying "louis-iana," as if it was some Italian restaurant owned by someone named Lou. I was petrified. Maybe she was just nervous presenting her group's poster. Maybe she was confused, flashing back to reading the newest edition of people magazine. Maybe she is just an idiot. If it were me I would go with the latter.

I must go search for the Holy Grail in Kentucky. More later...

Bullshit Studies

Every now and again I see our tax dollars being spent on studies to determine the obvious. Low flying planes increae chances of air fatalities, or not buckling up might cause your body to go through the windshield. Overeating causes you to get fat...get the idea?

Here is a doozy. Exercising makes you hungrier. No shit. Really? The study shows, or was done to show how exercising might actually INCREASE the obesity problem in America because as people exercise they might over eat. Are you serious? Is that study really necessary? People are now concerned that they might get fatter by exercising. When did being in shape require so much thought. It is really simple math. Calories in - calories out = weight loss or gain. Period. End of story. It isn't a trick. There is no magic here. So why on God's green Earth are we spending money to over think the simple? Jesus, cure the common cold. Find a way for cancer to be controlled. Figure out why chronic diseases control over 40% of the American population. STOP SPENDING MY MONEY ON MATH EQUATIONS MY KIDS CAN DO!

Dear U.S. Government People that dish out money for studying shit,

I have an idea. I believe that if I get a control group of about 50 of my frien...err....random people off the street, I can determine the correlation between pot smoking, beer consumption and intelligence. Screw rats. I think people are the better option. I plan on disproving what "doctor types of people" think is "bad" for you. In order form me to do this I will need approximately $13.75 million dollars, about 500 bails of marijuana and 145 cases of Miller Genuine draft. Ice and a biggggg cooler. Oh, and I need some legal pads....and pens, and maybe one of those digital recorders to record information in. Beer in one hand, blunt in another....hard to write. Recorder is good.

Sincerely,

me.

P.S. - do you need an address?

I'm Tired

I am tired. I am tired of a lot of things. Being sick. I got tired of that awhile ago although I am closer to being better than ever. I am tired of being a broke student again. This time its different because I have a family to support. I am tired of struggling to find things to make for dinner that everyone in my house will eat. That gets old. Although I know I need to do it. The last thing my wife needs to worry about after working a full day is trying to appease everyone. Role reversal. I guess I am tired of that too.

I am very tired of Jon and Kate. I don't care about what they and the 8 did anyway. Why would I care to see them try to entertain 8 kids on someone else's dime? All their shit got paid for. Trips, clothes, shoes, etc. It was all gifted to them. I don't care anymore. What else is there to learn? We all have opinions on how things went down with them, all of which doesn't matter in the grand scheme of the universe. I cannot believe that this show still carries an audience. I am tired of seeing Kate's spiked up buzz cut, if that is even possible. Just be a lesbian already.

I am tired of noticing that the most expensive cars obey the least amount of rules. For $50,000 you can purchase a vehicle that has dysfunctional turn signals, whose brakes do not work, whose gas pedal is constantly stuck at "on my ass," or who is immune to construction zone speed requirements. I always want to follow these people and see where they live so I can pour brake fluid on the hood of their car in the shape of a smiley face and watch the paint bubble up just before I leave.

I am tired of hearing Michael Jackson songs on the radio. I liked Michael Jackson back when he resembled a human being. His music was in, kind of like mullets. But now it is played mostly because the guy died. Sort of like Elvis I guess. One way to get out of debt is to die. Way to go Mike. I don't care if he was possibly murdered or whatever the new theory is on his cause of death. Just get it over with already. This is getting more play than Pamela Anderson's hepatitis. But that is a whole other story.

I am tired of my son's water wings. Sink or swim. You choose. But its time to lose the wings. Now he is only 4, and some might think that is too young to drown. Drowning has no age barrier. He has every right to drown like any other toddler. I fear he may be 13 before he has the confidence to take them off. By then, he would have already committed social suicide by coupling his water wings with a size medium swim diaper. Enough is enough.

I am tired of the tomato plant I have getting pecked at by birds more often than Lindsay Lohan's vagina. I didn't grow this bastard for the culinary enjoyment of every bird in the Tri-Cities area. I have no problem feeding the birds cracked corn. I don't eat the shit, so have at it. But I do eat tomatoes. So leave it alone before I release the cracken.

Last but not least, I am tired of the censoring of my own blog by the blog program. I can say shit, but I can't say .... That doesn't make any sense. .... that! If I want to say ...., shit, ...., pussy, ass, ....face, ....chop, or any other expletives, I should be able to do without being censored by my own damn blogger site. Its bullshit and its aggravating. ....ing stupid Internet. You can google porn all day but the minute you want to call someone a ....ing asshole, you can't do it. ....!

THat's all I have at the moment but that was just what hit me over the last 10 minutes. Maybe something will come to me this afternoon. Like the big clumps of hair that float around in our apartment pool. That is ....ing gross....especially when you don't see it until you pop up for air and feeling it like a ....ing cob web across your face. Tired of that too.

Holy Shiznit!

I need to write in this more. With everything that has been going on with my health it has made it nearly impossible. Hear, I beg and plead for people to follow the blog, they come, and nothing happens. it is like the reverse Field of Dreams....

BUILD IT AND NOTHING WILL HAPPEN

BAH! So here is my quick promise. I will post at least twice a week. My hope is they are twisted, bizarre, wry posts that will make you either fall out of your chair laughing, or cause you to ponder a stage in your life, past, present or future and rethink maybe something that you thought was once terrible but maybe wasnt as bad as what my mind goes through daily. Either way, I promise your life will be better in some form or fashion.

I must go for now, however. I need to go to a birthday party, the birthday person I do not know, the guest will be as foreign as money is to me at the moment, the alcohold flowing freely, knowing full well I cannot partake in....yes, so why am I going again.

Because I am married.

Happy wife, happy life.