So she's always on top....

Man with 78 kids plans 22 more

Monday, August 20, 2007

A one-legged, sixty-year-old father of 78 is lining up his next two wives in a bid to reach his target of 100 children by 2015, according to reports from the United Arab Emirates. Daad Mohammed Murad Abdul Rahman, 60, has already had 15 brides - although he has to divorce them as he goes along to remain within the legal limit of four wives at a time, Emirates Today reported on Monday.

'In 2015 I will be 68 years old and will have 100 children,' the local tabloid
quoted Abdul Rahman as saying.

'After that I will stop marrying. I have to have at least three more marriages to hit the century.' The newspaper splashed its front page with a picture of Abdul Rahman surrounded by his children, the eldest of whom is 36 years old and the youngest of whom is 20 days old. Two of his current three wives are also pregnant.

Abdul Rahman said his large family lived in 15 houses. He supports them with his military pension and the help of the government of Ajman, one of seven emirates that comprise the UAE, which includes the Gulf trade and tourism hub of Dubai.

Islam allows men to marry up to four women at a time, though most marry only one. The UAE is a Muslim country, but is home to migrants from around the world.

I don't even know where to begin so give me a moment to collect myself.


okay. *whew*

the fuck people!? One leg? Seriously. Most guys have three though right (or am I measuring wrong)? HA! I kid I kid!*

No, I'm just baffled I guess. How is this one-legged old man able to get so much poon and people who are far more bangable continue dating "Rosey" night after night... after night? I guess it's possible that one leg is hot in Dubai kinda like getting deathly levels of bacterial nerve toxin injected into one's forehead is hot here. Wait, did I say "hot"...I meant fubar.

Obviously, I can't imagine it but I can admit that it could happen.

Of course, I can't admit to such a thing without feeling like Dubai isn't just another one of them there seven United Arab Emirates (love that last word by the way....looks like "Pirates" if...you know, you're drunk and can't spell or read); it's instead part of a parallel universe where rich people actually go to jail and handicapped porn sells faster than Karla can entice the degenerate friends of hers to make it. It's basically a land made entirely out of cotton candy clouds and licorice trees where people fart cherry blossoms and shit bucket loads of skittles.

This place....this haven for the unfuckable....it's like imagining a world where your day starts precisely at noon, you work exactly 2 hours each day and that includes 1 hour for lunch, you're then whisked away to the spa for the afternoon where if you so choose your massage comes with a "happy ending"...then as you're sipping drinks poolside your boss calls to tell you that your one-hour-a-day performance is phenomenal and he's honored to have you on his team...so honored in fact that he feels compelled to not only offer you another 100-grand a year but also the services of his 22-year-old trophy wife and her twin sister who he reveals, have had their eye on you for some time and never one to deny his little darling what she wants, he's taken the liberty of commissioning a limo to pick you up and take you to a privately chartered plane where a team of Asian porn-stewardesses are standing by ready to fluff you all the way to Bora Bora at which time your plane will be met by none other than his bimbo wife and her "identical-except-for-the-beauty-mark-on-one-twins-no-no-special-place" sister who not only both enthusiastically encourage you to find said beauty mark without using your hands.....but are also......wait for it.....

NAKED!

GOD, yeah.....It's really THAT difficult for me to imagine. Where was I?....

Oh yes, Pogo. Don't get me wrong, I love me some turban-wearing gang bangers (a term used here to imply multiple sexual partners at once and not an affiliation with 'da west-si-eeeeeee-d') just like the next person. I just hate to break it to Daddy Ramen up there but the likelihood that ALL of those kids are his is pretty slim. His brother, his neighbor, one of his elder sons hittin' it with his younger step-mom? Yep. All more likely to have happened than the mind-numbing lies he's trying to sell. In fact, I believe even I am more likely to have fathered some of those kids and I readily admit that 1) I don't have a penis and 2) I haven't been to Dubai in like 3 years and that trip was the result of waaaay too much tequila at a high altitude. Regardless, dude is kidding himself and he should feel lucky the closest thing they have to a paternity test over there is eye-witness testimony from whatever family members sleep closest to you every night.

Which reminds me....I used to have a 10-gallon tank of guppies I bought basically because they didn't bark, wouldn't shit on my carpet and were highly unlikely to regurgitate anything into my favorite house shoes. Originally, I bought like 2 males and maybe 5 or 6 females and thought it would be cute to have little guppy babies swimming around in there....sort of like playing God and choosing who would breed. Fun stuff. Anyway this experiment of creationism stayed cute for all of about 3 months when I began to notice that there were just a lot of fucking fish in my pansy ass little $20 tank. I'm not talking "here a fish there a fish everywhere a fish-fish" either. HELL no! I don't even think there was water in the tank at one point...it was just this gyrating sea of reflective scaly bits writhing together like the churning tides as they answer the call of the moon....only it smelled like the Poop Sea and instead of the moon I just had a flickering florescent bulb that cast this eerie green haze into the depths of the tank, which now that I think about it reminded me a lot of Swamp Thing...don't know why. But I digress....it was a filthy hovel of a fish tank because I refused to reach into the thing to clean it out. Fish were getting pregnant by the sheer accident of not having enough room to go around each other. Brothers were fucking their sisters, dads had their daughters....it was the slum of all slums and I finally had to admit that I made a positively horrible God-type-thing. Fish bodies started floating to the top where I'd skim them off hoping none of the other fish had noticed. Fearing that they had and were launching a surprise attack in order to free themselves from the grip of their evil Overlord (namely, me). I had to sleep with one eye open for the entire last week I had them! It was

THAT.BAD.

Anyway...anytime people like this damn-near pull a hammy trying to impregnate everything not quick enough to flee, it reminds me of my fishy ghetto and all of my impoverished guppy families forced to nibble at each other's tails for nourishment. It's not that I didn't feed them, mind you...the food simply never reached the ones at the bottom (but...ain't that always the way???)....

true story.

*I'm so not kidding

Organization...not just for ugly losers anymore

that's right...in spite of the company I keep and the things that entertain me, I'm really quite intelligent...educated even. Well, not in the "legitimate" sense but hey, look at where our great country would be if we required everyone to live by legitimate means. Besides, I can whip up a degree or two to get me by in my sleep...well, actually my kids can but who do you think pays their bills? Well, okay the older one has his own "chemistry" business in his bedroom and that seems pretty profitable (it got me these new shoes and this ring.....OH! and some cute little pill looking things that help me stay up so I can watch my stories: The Real Wives of Orange County and Jerry Springer's Most Shocking. They're also really good at dissolving those pesky clogs in the tub.....I got such great kids ya'll.....). But back to me. I am one organizational machine. As a part-time mom and full-time Wife-for-a-Night...I have to be!

Anyway, before long it'll be time to send the little crotchlings back to detention..I mean school! Where the seeds of knowledge will take root in their little minds and quite likely cause a tumor. But, what doesn't kill them will, by golly, make them stronger and more capable of providing for me in my old age. (I'm a giver) However, with the addition of their school schedules I find it benefits the entire family if I do a few things to help limit the amount of clutter and basically streamline the daily processes we each undertake as we prepare for our individual days. I likewise delegate and correlate the evenings activities so that Mommy's "business meetings" don't get interrupted and the kids get their daily tasks done.

Friends and fiends, I'm here to share my knowledge with you! May you benefit from my expertise.....

Step 1: De-clutter. You might be saying "But Patti, what constitutes clutter?" to which I reply "Jesus people!. How retarded do you have to be to not know when some thing's messy?" It's simple: if it's in your way and it doesn't belong to you, it's clearly trash. This isn't the time to be sentimental either. Grow some balls and then, just like your crusty shorts, stick to 'em. Your spouse might complain about not having "their own things" and your kids might feel like they're "no longer loved" but your ability to free your family space will eventually help them to feel freer to look outside the home for companionship and safety. And that's what being a parent is all about: teaching our kids how to be independent as soon as possible. Which brings me to my second step.

Step 2: Learn to Conserve. This applies to everything from food to electricity and even laundry. It's a common misconception that kids need several sets of clothes. I mean, get real. They only have ONE body right? I've found that by throwing away all of there clothing except one complete set, I free up hours of my time every week that used to be spent sorting and resorting mountains of clothes just to have them get dirty the next week. So long as your child bathes regularly, there's no reason they can't wear the same thing day, after day, after day. Yes, they'll resist this logic at first. But, if you also implement my de-cluttering and food conservation ideas...before long, they won't have the energy to expend on back-talk and sassing. Not only that, but the decreased intake of food will help them get the most use out of their clothes over time. Another common misconception is that people need 3 meals a day. By giving my family safe, over-the-counter sleep aids I've found that they'll naturally sleep through breakfast and lunch. Conserving food in this way has saved my family more than $700/month! Wow! Don't continue to buy into the government and corporate propaganda surrounding nutrition, health and safety. They spread lies such as The Food Pyramid to instill fear and further separate you from your hard-earned money. It's time you reclaimed your financial freedom!

moving on...

Step 3: Delegate. This idea that the parents or adults in the household are responsible for it's upkeep is not only medieval but it's dangerous! How are our children supposed to learn how to re shingle a house, unclog a sewer line or install customized strobe lighting over Mom's vibrating bed if we don't teach them? I am sick to death of watching other parents slave over their children as they happily poop their pants and just expect that someone will come along and clean it up. The time has come for us to stand together and say "No....it is not okay for you to cry between the hours of 8:00pm and 8:00am. No...it is not okay for you to continually force us to take time away from the things we enjoy just so you don't feel alone. And No...it is not okay for you to shit yourself." As adults, we deserve to be happy too and if we continually buy into this ideal that kids can't take care of themselves...well, we simply never will be.

Step 4: Take time out for you. The previous steps might confuse some people into believing that after systematically removing all of your family's possessions and finally getting the kids outside to clean the gutters and fix that flickering porch light that you surely have found more than enough time for yourself. Well, that's simply not the case. Would it surprise you to learn that 97% of all people ever to have lived desire more time?* Moreover, would it surprise you that 85% of women choose to spend their free time on other people?** See, by freeing up your time with my earlier tried and true methods, even the most highly motivated and selfless individuals can get sucked back into their old ways. Study after study *** has proven, when given a window of inactivity we quickly race to fill it with more work. The type of work might vary; it might be binge drinking, fornicating with multiple loose women of questionable cleanliness or simple All-American porn...every one's different. But what isn't different and what can affect us all should we grow careless and lax is what I consider a Global Crisis of Giving. You can hardly throw a stick in a crowded orphanage without hitting a handful (of children mainly) of charities. They all either want your time or maybe your blood....some want money, some want your soul and some even want your wife.

I'll leave it up to you if you want to dispose of family members in such a way. However, there are two things you simply cannot part with; one is obviously your money (crack won't buy itself), the other is your time. Regardless of the cause, it's highly unlikely anyone at the receiving end of any charity even knows you exist. Therefore, it stands to reason that if you choose not to donate of yourself or your money these people will likely starve to death or go blind or something. This is perfectly normal. The important thing is that they do so never knowing it's because of you. It's vital to your own health and sense of well-being that you strive to retain a clear conscience at all times. So please, feel free to discern the truth in whatever way best achieves this goal. However, do try to remember that while "idleness is [indeed] the glove into which evil slips it's hand"... it's also true that "candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker".




Goodnight and good luck.

*99% of all statistics are made up on the spot.
**You can interpret "on people" in whatever way amuses you.
***of course there's no study...idiot!

Cynicism...the other white meat

I'm old. In fact, I just turned one year older last month (only because the alternative was considered the worse option I assure you). What did I get, you ask? Well, I thank you for caring to be sure. I in fact most graciously received the abundance of:

1) elevated cholesterol (Body by Bacon)
2) a prescription for Lipit0r (now with more anal leakage!)
3) a grey hair in my eyebrow (the fuck?)
4) a rather bad case of constipated diarrhea (the double fuck?)
5) and a pissed off partridge in a pear tree (couldn't give me a happy one could ya?)

Amazing! Yes, yes...I know. I would've settled for a card quite frankly...there was no need to get excessive.

Getting old isn't for sissies, I'll admit that. But the lengths some people go to in order to fight the fade is entertaining, yes, but also buck-ass CRAZY! From slicing-and-dicing to shooting up with other species and even drinking some one's pee (their PEE goddammit!), it's clear people will do damn near anything to at least feel like they're still young. Notice I said "to feel like" and not "to stay" because it doesn't work...none of it. Go ahead...slather on huge vats of fetus cream and plump your shit up with stewed hot wheels and fermented silly putty if you just have to. But know this: you look re-fucking-tarded. Not to mention you smell funny. I mean, whose bright idea was it to bathe in pureed babies and then go tanning anyway? What did you think it would smell like?

Honestly people.

It's with a great sense of redundancy that I feel I even have to say...fuck Clinique, Merle Norman and Este Lauder...your shit's going to wrinkle, crinkle and eventually makes it's way to the complete opposite side of your body. Duh! And it won't matter how many babies you've eaten or how many gallons of urine smoothies you ingest. Nobody dies looking 20 unless they are, in fact, 20 and even then a lot of those look 40 once you remove the perks of PhotoShop and spray-on makeup. So give it up. Instead of focusing on shit that's so useless as to be depressing, why not spend all that easily-won, hard-stolen (whatever) money on things that stand a snowball's chance in hell of making a difference. Like liquor and a relatively decent satellite teevee package.

It's not just that I find this sort of nonsensical behavior in others irritating. No, with age it seems, comes an equal-opportunity, nothings sacred, cynicism. Yes, I'm beginning to realize I hate quite a lot of things and most of those things coincidentally have something to do with people. In fact, the odds are pretty damn high that I'm hating you as I type this and am doing so with every confidence that I'm making the right choice. My cynicism isn't what really bothers me though. I mean, it certainly isn't that others might think less of me or that I'll lose your friendship. Fuck your friendship. We all know you suck so that's not the point. The point is, however, that day by day, year by year, it's becoming clearer and clearer that this is how Old Lady Rage is born. I'm turning into a bitter old hag right before my very eyes and I'm not even sure I care! All the signs are there: I'm overly critical, habitually pessimistic, righteously angry, offensively opinionated and the balls of it is........eh, so what.

It's my cynicism that keeps me from buying into the marketing hype that surrounds most "miracle cures" for aging though. So it has it's benefits. Which reminds me: "miracle"..."cure"? Does someone, somewhere honestly believe that god (buddha, jehovah, allah etc.) gives two shiny shits about saving anyone (let alone you!) from aging? Moreover, would he/she/it consider it a disease in need of curing? It's nothing more than time passing you by. And saying "time is a disease" is like saying the month of June hates you. If it could I'm sure it would, but that's not really the point here. No, the point is I'd rather put a stripper through community college than spend one penny buying into the fraud that is the cosmetic side of Commercial Whorism.

It's already well-known that Americans will buy anything. If you don't believe me check out some of these interesting yet disturbing items.

Oh and next time you go in for that collagen injection, consider THIS. Collagen from cadavers huh? Gee. Sounds so "third world" doesn't it? Not so fast....it happens in the US too.

Yeah, I'm a cynic. But at least I'm not walking around sporting a $1000 set of Dead Hobo Lips and feeling like I've never been more beautiful.

Somehow, getting this













from this














just doesn't seem....I don't know...what's the word?


Oh yeah!

SANE!

I've been sick

now...before you get all verklempt on me, it was a simple ass explosion and nobody got hurt. Well, it hurt ME but nobody else got hurt see? I'm trying to appear selfless here so cut me some slack. Plus my ass is killing me so I'm not in the best of moods.

Nonetheless...when I wasn't playing anal-eclipse with the toilet water, I was watching teevee. And let me tell you other working-type folks something: teevee land is crazy cool during the day yo! I learned some awesome shit, got entertained and by the end of the day was damn near feeling like a super model. By comparison of course. I watched a show about dwarfs, one about giants (not jolly green ones or even the ones that play professional sports. No I'm talking about the real live ones with gene anomalies, really deep voices and enormous pants and whatnot) and then there were people who had lived through shark attacks and like falling down a mountain on their FACE and still looked pretty (which, if you ask me, is the reason science is so damn important...keep us pretty no matter what hair-brained idea causes us to lob off portions of our anatomy). Humans are so damned awesome!

So get this. One of these shows I watched was called I Am My Own Goddamned Twin (sic). And with a teaser like this...how could I NOT watch.

Babies are being born split right down the middle, half black and half white, a testicle on one side and a vagina on the other. Explore the extraordinary medical phenomena that causes two different babies to fuse together in the womb.

DUDE!!! Okay, honestly, how could I NOT watch? I challenge you to hold up under such a temptation. Not only would you fold, I'm betting you'd pop a king-sized bowl of Xtreme Butter popcorn and even Tivo that shit! Be that as it may, I'm pleased to report there were pictures involved.



DUDE!!!

I am not making this up...that's a real live baby type thing from Texas (why do they always get the cool stuff?). I think it's right side was a boy and it's left side was a girl. They chose to keep the boy parts and had the girl parts removed. So he/she has like only one ball or something I don't know. I was just looking at it's stripes and feeling cheated. How will my kids possibly compete later in life with these sorts of super kids? Part male, part female....able to be sensitive to your needs while at the same time ignoring them completely...irrationally rational...emotionally unemotional...both a good and bad driver! It'll be chaos! Not to mention...if Men Are From Mars and Women Are From Venus then where the fuck would these folks be from? And more importantly, do they plan on making sex slaves out of us? So many questions.

I think the most confusing yet awesome part of the whole show wasn't the half-n-half chimera baby, but the people who showed no outward signs of the same gene anomaly that caused this baby's appearance but were nonetheless affected. It was basically about these two normal looking women, one older and in need of a kidney transplant and one younger and in danger of getting her kids taken away by child welfare. In both cases the women were told by doctors that the children they carried for 9 months, gave birth to and raised were not theirs. In effect...there's no way you gave birth to these kids...you're a liar. I of course immediately thought of Karla, how could I not? These women had pictures, had husbands and family members who witnessed the births and helped in the upbringing. The older woman's grown kids were tested to see if they were a match for a kidney transplant and was told not only were they not a match but they weren't even related! The younger woman was trying to get welfare and child support and was told that while the man they'd tested for paternity was 99.9% the father of her two kids...she was not the mother. They took her to court and nearly took her kids away because they thought she had either stolen them or was pretending to raise them in order to defraud the system.

Can you imagine having to prove you didn't make up giving birth? You have doctor's records, pictures and eye-witness testimony but what can't be explained and is most heavily weighing against you is DNA. How do you prove that when science has created a system by which we trust it without question? People have died because of DNA evidence and conversely others have been given a second (third? eighth?) chance. As a society are we ready to admit that it's flawed?

Long story short...both women are chimeras meaning that at some point during the first moments after conception, when the fertilized egg was just beginning it's cellular division, what was by nature meant to be two separate individuals was instead fused creating one person with two sets of DNA. The shitter about this is that it's not as easy as drawing blood, taking a mouth swab, pulling a piece of hair to determine what's what. In both of these women's individual hairs tested for separate and distinct DNA. And in the older woman in need of a kidney transplant, her individual organs tested for different DNA. So think about it....if they hadn't needed the benefits of testing they showed no outward signs of being any different than normal single DNA folks. They never would've known. We never would've known. I mean, it's easy to see something different when it's evidenced by a line drawn down the middle of a baby.

I guess this is so damned interesting to me because I love it when nature kicks our asses. Every time we decide that we've figured it all out, something happens to show us we aren't any closer to the answers than we were back when bleeding someone was considered an effective cure for everything from headaches to adultery. Each time scientist say "okay today, right now...this is how life works" nature says "oh really?" and we're forced to reevaluate. I love that shit!

Just think about what this means....a chimera results from two fertilized eggs fusing at just the right time. The same can be said for Siamese twins and those people who get tumors removed only to find they had been their undeveloped twin. If you look at how many cases exist and are being discovered and discussed on an annual basis...is it too much of a stretch to believe that more people might potentially exist who have yet to have any reason to doubt their DNA? Look at how many people live in our prison system right now, today. Millions upon millions. Could 3 or 5 have this problem? Could they be where they are because of this condition? And what about all of those let go? Could they be guilty?

More importantly...Karla, if you're reading this....you better hire an attorney to come to the birth or something. Better yet, find a judge and shoot the kid out on his desk or something and get the little bugger notarized!

On kids and dogs

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19762056/site/newsweek/?GT1=10150

This article was sent to me by a child-less by choice coworker. If you don't want to read it, I'll sum it up for you. Basically the author has no kids and is tired of strangers and friends alike helping themselves to her private life by way of all-too-personal enquiries as well as outright fondling in the guise of reproductive concern. She quite firmly states that it's none of their business and what's more is, the reason she isn't breeding even as we speak is because them crazy parents are putting her off and making her damn near wish for sterility (for them as well as herself I'm guessing). In summation, parents with little to no control over their crotchlings and an exaggerated opinion of how they should be viewed by the masses are solely responsible for this woman's decision to have sex for recreational purposes only. And she says all of this while cradling her dog.

Hmm. There's something about this that niggles at the back of my mind....what could it be? Let's see: people and their kids are a nuisance......cradling dog.....cradling? that's for babies right? but she doesn't want those....she clearly likes her dog....heh....look at how she holds it....like a ...what's the word....wait....like a CHILD! Now I know what's niggling me!

More and more these days I'm noticing that kids are out and dogs-as-kids are in. I honestly couldn't care less if anyone in my office, my neighborhood, my city, my state, my country...this WORLD chooses to procreate. That's not what's getting under my skin. Almost every young couple I know that isn't ready to start a family by way of having kids has nonetheless got a dog that they choose to treat like one. They give these dogs birthday parties complete with doggie cake, they take them to doggie-daycare and spend an ungodly amount on their surroundings. Many have entire rooms of the house exclusive to them, not to mention clothes and accessories and toiletries to make them smell like anything but a dog. In fact, my coworkers have all taken to dog rescuing which is a noble cause to be sure. What I'm not sure about is why they think it's okay to bring them to work and not just one but sometimes two or more. These dogs are clearly unbalanced and in need, but many do not like unfamiliar people. So as I go to fill my coffee cup I've been growled at, drooled on, jumped on and had my personal space repeatedly and intimately invaded in that way that dogs have more times than I can count. It's clear they love dogs. I get it. Hey, I love my kids too! So I understand love.

What I can no longer accept or try to understand, however, is the double standard.

For instance take this quote from the above-referenced article:

So why don't I have kids or even the inkling right now? It's because of you. Yes, you: the fanatical mothers of the world. It may seem like ages ago now, but you weren't always like this. You, too, were sneering at the obnoxious parents who brought their infants to fancy, adult, nighttime restaurants or R-rated movies and let them carry on, ruining things for other patrons. You've been terrible advertising for the club that you so desperately need others to join.

now let's change it up a bit to make it about dogs and dog-owners:

So why don't I have dogs or even the inkling right now? It's because of you. Yes, you: the fanatical dog-owners of the world. It may seem like ages ago now, but you weren't always like this. You, too, were sneering at the obnoxious animal activists who brought their pets to grocery stores, your place of business or even your home and let them carry on, ruining things for others. You've been terrible advertising for the club that you so desperately need others to join.

Huh. What a coincidence and yet, when I say this using the same similarities evidenced in their own behavior, the response is immediate and unfavorable. How dare I compare dogs with children in-that-way. To which I can only reply "what the fuck people". These are your "furry children" are they not? I've heard you say so myself. So then tell me exactly why as their "parents" you believe yourself to be immune from the responsibility and respect you demand of other parents? Why is it okay for your dog to jump on me, but my kid can't jump on you? Why can you take your dog to the grocery store but I can't take my child to a fancy restaurant? Why must my children go unseen and unheard while your dog barks whenever and for however long it wants? Why is it okay for your dog to shit in my yard? Can I bring my child to your house to defecate because that would be super entertainment for me. What about scratching? Can my child scratch you and then fiddle around in your nether regions the way your dog does to me? More importantly, can I talk about your dog the way you feel free to talk about my child?

No? Well, isn't that odd?

The truth is, you can't have it both ways. You can't expect for me to acquiesce to your pithy ramblings about animal instincts and how your dog was mistreated by a human once when I call you on their bad behavior. Just as it might be normal and developmentally typical for my 3-year-old to throw a tantrum, you've made it perfectly clear it's not acceptable and isn't something you should be forced to endure. Why then are your dog's natural instincts to dominate and assert ownership over me and my personal space not likewise subjected to such strict conformity out of the same respect you demand? You are the one in charge are you not? And as such, you assume full responsibility much like our adult status makes us responsible for our children regardless of what's normal for them or how they've been treated previously. It's impossible to argue instincts and nature over responsibility and respect when you're busy force-feeding to others the same thing you refuse to practice.

The article continues along the same vein:

No one could possibly love your kids as much as you do, so stop inflicting them on others. Don't bring your kid to adult parties when you're not sure if it's kid-friendly. If they didn't invite your kid, they don't want your kid there. If you don't want to get a babysitter, stay home.

again, let's do some word-exchange:

No one could possibly love your dogs as much as you do, so stop inflicting them on others. Don't bring your dog to human gatherings when you're not sure if it's dog-friendly. If they didn't invite your dog, they don't want your dog
there. If you don't want to get a dogsitter, stay home.

Heh. You wouldn't believe the dirty looks I got for that one. And that's fine, they can hate me, what I say and why I say it but they can't deny it's true. Sure, it's easier for them to accuse me of being a dog-hater than it is for them to see the truth in my words. But honestly, it's my love for dogs that keeps me from having one. I know that I do not have the resources necessary to give a dog a proper home. And I'm not talking about money for perfumes, organic food, daycare or clothes. Dogs don't need that shit. What they need is an owner who treats them like a dog and not like a person. They need the safety of a pack and to know how they rank in it. They need discipline, safety and affection within an overall healthy environment. And I know I do not have the time or patience to spend ensuring a dog would lead it's optimum life while in my care.

Which brings me to my final quote exchange:

Finally, don't make your kid an extension of your own
narcissism.

the obvious dog-equivalent being:

Finally, don't make your dog an extension of your own
narcissism.

How much more narcissistic is it to take another species and force it to conform to your standards of behavior and way of life and deny it a healthy expression of it's heritage? Isn't our domestication of animals to the point of believing no difference actually exists a more fitting example of narcissism than even the most permissive of child-rearing? At least in the realm of parenting our selfish expectations and ignorant assumptions when aimed at total strangers is enveloped in the unfortunate blanket of shared genetics. So as far as "wrongs" go in this argument, I suppose bashing someone else for their parenting of a human makes the most sense at least. And in this feral feud, I could even side with the "Child-less By Choice So Keep Your Kids To Yourself" group as I believe personal space, privacy and responsibility are of the utmost importance. However, by projecting human qualities onto animals and dogs in particular, the mommy-bashers have lost their leverage with me.

I'm here comparing all of the negative finger-pointing, typically reserved for same-species cohabitation, to responsible dog-ownership because the proverbial doggie door was opened by my coworkers with the forwarding of this article. Well, that and I'm simply TIRED of choking on their choices much as they feel forced to choke on mine. I don't condone the extremes of either group here: the child-less or the child-full. But I'll be damned before I allow someone cradling their dog like a baby to talk down about my kids while she's freely representing what's become an all-too acceptable exchange within our society. The exchange of course being the value of an animal's life over that of a human. Because no, you don't have to like my kids. I won't force them onto you nor allow them to infringe upon your space. But you damn well better likewise keep your dog and attitude in check.

Because yeah, if you start talking generalized shit you should know that you're not the only person sick of all the blind, hypocritical prejudices.

Heh.

Lilly Allen's "Alfie"....sing with me!

Hey Dickhole!

(no, not you Karla....or any of your retched friends that I know of anyway... although, truth be told, I have no way of knowing where these creeps have been paroled to...so I'll just say "not you Karla" since the dickhole in question had a small penis and you clearly do not....have any penis of course....not for another 18-months anyway)


*AHEM*

This morning, I, along with a few thousand other decent, hardworking sane people, was trying to go about the unbearably tedious business of getting to my place of business when my eyesight as well as my personal space was visually and damn near physically assaulted by this steroidal abomination!

wha...the....wh...what is this? seriously.

It's refuckingdiculous! It's also entirely redundant seeing as not only our community but our entire STATE is about as supine and accessible as you know who. Minus a few potholes and other such inconsequential defects that arise from the general wear and tear characteristic of your typical suburban experience, the roads are fine asshole, just fine. It's hardly necessary for you and the other shitforbrains, Wrangler-whoring, dickless, brainless, spineless, mindless, narcissistic butt pirates I'm forced to share air with to invest in what is by any one's (namely my) standards, the equivalent of a jumbo penis extender just to get your sorry ass from point A to point B. Especially when the space between said points is so clean as to be routinely hoovered by some guy in a county vehicle which, ironically, is much smaller than that skyscraper you're driving around. Never mind the fact that his vehicle is responsible for sucking away a seemingly endless supply of gutter debris discarded by an entire municipality while yours just plain sucks. It sucks space, sucks money, sucks our collective cache of natural resources and most importantly, it sucks my patience.

If said sucking was even remotely enjoyable I wouldn't be complaining. But, you know, there's just something about the size of your rattletrap and the careless way you maneuver it in and out of traffic so vigorously that tells me I'm not the first dissatisfied female to cast a disapproving shadow on your "manly ways".

Maybe that's why it's so fuckin' big. Your truck that is. The bigger, the better. The better to drain the life and joy from this planet, from your fellow travelers, possibly from women in general but most importantly, from me.

And that's really what this is about: me.

Well, me and how much I hate you. Okay...me, how much I hate you AND my apparent inability to get whatever message it is you're trying to send. I know it must have something to do with your manliness or perhaps that you're not afraid of heights. Surely there's some method to your madness. I mean, for god's sake, even my 7-year-old thinks your monster truck is more than a tad bit silly. And this comes from a boy who considers picking his nose to be an inalienable right afforded him through the mere act of breathing. Basically.......dude, even my booger-eating crotchling knows that you're overcompensating....for..... something.

And it all comes back to one question: WHY? No matter how hard I try, there's simply no logical explanation why every time I stop at a light your giant schnoz eclipses the sun as it makes that beeline for my tailpipe. It's wearing me down man. really. I'm tired of looking into my rear view mirror and being able to tell the gender of every bug stuck in your grill because yeah....YOU'RE THAT CLOSE!

Exactly whyyyyyyyyy you feel the need to tickle the crack of my ass with your nose hairs at regular intervals is really what's keeping me up at night. Believe it or not I'm truly not writing this to gain some kind of understanding into your inner psyche. And that's not only because I believe it consists of little more than the 3 minutes of internet porn you rocked your world with last night along with such mind-bending questions as: "why does my belly button smell like my asshole?". No, I'm writing this to bring closure to myself and by default any number of other people just like me who find that the coins rattling in their ashtray aren't due to the kickin' bass emanating from their satellite radio. Most likely, it's because you have what I like to call the all-body-vibrator package installed on the exhaust system of your ego-stroke of a tin box you call a truck and you've just parked it on their rear bumper.

So whadya say? Can you ease up a bit off my ass? This isn't your bedroom and I'm not some underage girl on your messenger who's just as impressed with the fact that you don't, in fact, still live with your mother as she is with the fact that you can drive and maybe, like, take her to the mall later and like buy her a pack of Virginia Slims to like share with her friends....like. Your personal statement is completely lost on me. I'm not impressed and I think you look embarrassing.

Kindly fuck off.