What to do, what to do

In light of Karla's instantaneous confession, I've found I no longer have any use for some of the surveillance, combat and rescue gear donated to us by concerned citizens within Karla's community. I know I'm not alone in my disappointment at this sudden and sad turn of events. It's not every day you get to witness a group of rookie cops straight out of the academy taking down a 30-month pregnant mother of seven* who just so happens to also be the world's leading manufacturer of crystal meth and Cooter Cozies.

Here I thought this would involve months of late-night stakeouts and at the very least a chance to see her on COPS. I've never seen them take down a person of her girth before. I'll admit, I feel cheated. No tapping phone or sewer lines, no strip-searching and probing her relatives as they come to bring food for the kid, and I was really looking forward to that. The Chief even told me I could keep whatever I found on or in whomever I searched! What's not to like about that? And now that's completely down the shitter!

So, in addition to being really bummed. I now have to find some other use for some of this equipment. Raise your hand if you find anything you need....

Don't go jumping all over this one Karla, just because you think they might provide you with a few extra minutes of sleep each night. I'll have you know, they're not made for just lounging around as one would assume based on their purpose. Not that I did or would mind you! But I've heard talk of such things. And I must say, who in their right mind sits around in a diaper for 12 straight hours watching reruns of Charmed and drinking sweet tea? Well, besides you Karla and that other crazy lady. Although, I'll admit, I admire her determination, she's no quitter that one. And I do like me some sweet tea. Regardless, unlike some people I know who get all knocked up and then decide to swear off mobility altogether, some folks actually use these things to get out there and interact with the world. Grant it they're the stinkier of the interactors, but they're trying. While you're what? Laying in state hoping the Schwan's van breaks down in front of your house so you can pounce on it's frozen delicacies? You know, on second thought perhaps you can have the three I had left. It'd do you good to get vertical again.

Also, we sort of broke the budget on this next item. I'd really like to keep it since you just never know who I'll piss off next. But it only gets like .007 miles to the gallon and I'm getting really tired of stopping to fill up at every corner. It comes equipped with a fully functioning live-fire, retractable gunnery system which can hold several types of standard tank ammunition in calibers 105mm and 120mm, through the substitution of easily available caliber .50 ammunition types. The trajectory of caliber .50 SLAP-T (Saboted Light Armor Penetrator-Tracer), M962 ammunition is an excellent match to 2,000m, sufficient to exercise the tank crew with the standard half-scale or full-scale targets. 1,500m capability can be achieved with the use of caliber .50 APIT, M20 ammunition. And lets you think I'm all business and no fun....it also has built-in dual DVD players in the head rests as well as an old-style Atari gaming system that includes Pong, Centipede, Ms. Pac-man, Frogger and Break-Out. Only serious inquiries need respond to this one as I'm more than happy to hang out in the thing in lieu of driving it just to get away from my family. So it's not like I have to get rid of it or anything. But if it could be put to better use elsewhere, then who am I to withhold?

Lastly I had about 300 of these shirts printed up. I was envisioning protest rallies, sit-ins and candlelight vigils organized for the sole purpose of saving those poor children. One might argue that the crisis is far from over and while I agree, I also must admit that my own kids might need clothes in the near future so perhaps peddling a few items at the expense of a couple of kids I never met wouldn't be that bad. It doesn't hurt that there are enough sick adults out there that would get a charge out of it too. If you think it's depraved then I apologize profusely and assure you that I in no way meant to either dehumanize a mother doing her best to care for her crotchlings nor profit on their collective plight. If, however, you like one of the items....send $20.00 cash (NO CHECKS YOU WORTHLESS BASTARDS!) to me in an unmarked envelope. The shirts are available in infant sizes as well as XXXL adult for the fatties. Don't' ask me why a fatty would want one, I just know my target audience.

Oh...and leave the money on the green bench outside the Baskin Robins on 33rd and Marshall.

*what, like you're keeping track?????

p.s. if the above picture if blurreee, yo'ure probably drUnk.

Ironically, not about Karla.

Ohmygod! I was just blindsided by my boss' boss. It's what I like to call a "drive-by thesaurusing"...you know where the person (who by the way NEVER talks to you to begin with) suddenly decides to tell you very important facts about a very important report that you NEVER (yeah, NEVER) deal with. And these facts of such importance? Well, they need to be told to your boss (who did I mention is out for two days?) verbatim. Your boss, of course, is responsible for these facts AND this report but suddenly.....suddenly it's all on you! Because the proverbial torch of accountability has been passed into your unwilling hands.

No, not passed exactly. More like forcibly hurled without regard for the target, the manner in which it was so nonchalantly flung nor the effects said tossing would have on it's recipient. It was basically vomited at me. And I took it full in the face. All wide-eyed and surprised..."did....did he just....he didn't. No he did! oh god stay focused!"

And that's how I feel right now. Thoroughly soaked in the slimy residue of our President's (not to be confused with The President's) fiscally inspired technicolored yawn.

No warning. No agenda or pie graphs or flow charts or even one goddamned slide show!

Just "Make sure the minutes include our discussions on blahblah interest rate sensitivity blahblah Examiner’s blah profitability blahblahblah net worth blah ratios blah rate scale blah peak spending blahsnoozeblah."

*crickets chirping*

uh.....

who the.....

yeah.

Okay, I can do this. But I'm going to need to shower the stench of his bastardized use of Managerial Accounting 101 off my frontal lobe. Then I'll google all of the above words that don't begin with "b" and come up with a nice little sentence or two that incorporates them all.

Or I will call in sick the rest of the week with an inoperable brain tumor; an excuse I've been saving up for just such an occasion.

I might be free to work in Karla's sweatshop afterall....and I'll likely know by week's end.

I've been coerced

nay...threatened! to create a place where all 3 people who accidentally stumbled across my parenting blog might be able to congregate and discuss in lurid detail exactly who the father of Karla's baby is.

Okay, that might be a lie.

The "3 people" is really more like one. But since that one is Karla herself, I honestly don't know if she's planning on FINALLY confessing to what I've long known to be the truth about her current pregnancy...here where people won't find her. Or if she's hoping to befriend me, as she's rumored to have done to others, after which she'll be able to use me for god only knows what deviant purpose. I'm quite naive see.

*shudder*

Anyway, I won't lie; she scares me. I mean, between the internet legends, the extensive series of psychological case studies, her lengthy criminal background and a series of heartbreaking videos recently leaked by one brave survivor (a man being held in protective custody) who only managed to escape her soulless clutches after gnawing through his own leg...it's become quite clear: she's absolutely bonkers! I can almost see her now...bed-ridden in that filthy hovel of a home, enraged and unable to prey on people as often as her many personalities demand. She's seething at the confinement imposed, ironically, by the only shred of her life that's allowed her to pass for normal all these years. Biding her time, she continues to coax me (and others!) into her deceptively sweet snare with her wily ways and pretty profile picture until one day, BAM! She changes from the docile, mildly retarded persona everyone loves to that of a depraved degenerate. Viciously demanding we supply her with trophies of toenail clippings and earwax candles while systematically wearing us down with her incessant phone calls and blog comments (No Karla, I don't want or need gently used storm windows from New Orleans and I already have several 5-gallon drums of cookie dough!). She's really sick ya'll!

...

But anyway....in my horror I seem to have digressed...where was I?

Oh yeah, her purpose for wanting me here. Yes, more than simply satisfying any of her many, twisted addictions, I think her heart longs to confess. To tell the world (okay, just me) the truth: that her second (I know. My GAWD this isn't the first time!) crotchling is not the result of one night of unbridled passion with the man she calls husband as she's led so many to believe. That poor, sweet, unassuming man (bless his heart) still clings tightly to the possibility that he fathered the first one when it's well documented with the Border Patrol that he was, in fact, working 167 hour weeks at Karla's insistence, smuggling midgets from Columbia to work in their basement organizing her extensive, sickening collection of porn and used band-aids. The word on the street (the only place anyone seems to talk about her....coincidence? I think not!) suggests that this time she's having somewhat of a celebuspawn. Seriously! See my guess is, coming here is her way of lightening the already suffocating load from her conscience without anyone finding out. I'm a huge nobody see. So it's damn near perfect for her.

The guy, who as I mentioned is somewhat of a celebrity in addition to potentially being the man given an all access pass to Karla's no-no special place when it mattered most, may have actually played "Spartan #247" in the movie "300".

I managed to locate this picture of him. And I don't know about you, but he kinda looks like her first son as well. Tsk Tsk!