Friday, March 31, 2006


The police arrested my youngest son, Waylon today and he was driving w/o a license. His girlfriend was mad at him and called the police and told them and they stopped him. Now, I don't condone my son driving w/o a license but he lives in the country and had no other way to work and back. I really fucking hate women who use the law to do their dirty work like that. I hope he never goes back with that psychotic bitch. But the really sad state of affairs is that she's due to have his baby in 2 weeks. Now, he's got fines on top of court costs on top of impound fees and on and fucking on. She'll come slinking around again and throw in his face that he has no money for her and her baby. It's dirty pool, low handed and down right wrong and she's lucky she's pregnant and about 500 miles away or...

Thursday, March 30, 2006


I've always been a big music fan. Actually, it was far more than that, it was my life. As a child,I listened to the albums my parents played on the old stereo console,T.V., record player we had. They played anything from Ray Charles to the Platters to Patsy Cline and more. As I got older, music got me through some of the worst and toughest times in my young life. As a teenager, I was always and I do mean always (my Mom will testify) in trouble and on restriction either to my room or to the house and I would choose to stay in my room But it was music that kept me alive, spurred me on and it was music that soothed the savage me.
I met Sonny at a club and we immediately hit it off. He was a drummer, I was a drummer and we both loved music.I was with Sonny for 19 years and I will tell you this much about him; he's the biggest asshole I've ever met but by far one of the best drummers, I'd ever heard. Drugs and drinking were both are demise but for him, he was a waste of talent and I mean real talent. I can't stand Sonny to this very day, would rather spit in his face and wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire but he was that damn good. He could play anything, anything. He could keep up with songs like Tom Sawyer by Rush and if you know music, you know that Neal Peart, Rush's drummer, studied in Africa and is a professor of music, drums. The guy is awesome and Sonny could play it note for note and then swing in to some blues or whatever and always do his fills, always on time, never too much. He was far more talented than I could ever wish to be but he was an asshole. And he was an even bigger dick with eyes when he was drinking. My point is that we used to play gigs here and there around the D.C./Va. area and then in N.Y., in Jamestown to Buffalo. Up and coming bands, that are paid to play bars and clubs usually have to play a lot of cover tunes. Well, almost every frigin' time we played out someone would ask for My Sharona or Wild Thing, amongst others. But Sonny would sing it, wearing a head set so he could still play at the same time and believe me that takes real talent. But he would turn the song around with lyrics that were completely demented. My Sharona was now My Big Boner and Wild Thing went something like this;
Wild thing, you make my dink stink, you make everything stinky, wild thing...and he did it with a mock british accent. But we mainly played the blues and I played bass, every now and then, he'd never let me on his drums in public, "girls aren't supposed to be drummers or on a drum line in school," and I had been both. As I was saying, we played mostly blues, Eric Clapton, Gary Moore and Stevie Ray Vaughn just for example. We had a few groupies and a few roadies and if I drank enough they could persuade me to do," MY SONG." It was a female version of Stevie Ray Vaughn's, "Leave My Girl Alone." Buddy Guy did it and wrote it but we rocked it like SRV did. I would get all the girls especially rowdy and ruthless and I loved it and miss it. My lyrics to the song went like this and you can click on it to hear SRV doin' the dog;
Leave My Man Alone
You better leave....You better leave my man alone
You better leave....You better leave my man alone
Lord before I get evil bitch....And I go and do something wrong

You call my house just yesterday
I picked up the extension and I heard every word you said
Why don't you just go on....Slut and leave my man alone
Lord before I get evil bitch....Oh,and I go and do something wrong

You call my house all hours of the night
Let me tell you sister that's a sure, sure way to start a fight
Why don't you just go on....Slut and leave my man alone
Lord before I get evil bitch....And I'm gonna do something wrong.
(insert whisper)I'll just have ta shoot ya!

Wednesday, March 29, 2006



FAIRFIELD, Conn. - Residents of the neighborhood of Sunset Circle say they have been terrorized by a crazy cat named Lewis. Lewis for his part has been uniquely cited, personally issued a restraining order by the town's animal control officer.

"He looks like Felix the Cat and has six toes on each foot, each with a long claw," Janet Kettman, a neighbor said Monday. "They are formidable weapons."

~To read the rest of this story click here

Internet Explrer Improvement!!

I believe this is the link to where I was able to update my Internet Explorer and is much better. I am now able to view my own blog without the sidebar at the bottom. I think if you download this, it is a real improvement. I still prefer my Firefox but I like to have Two browsers. That's it and that's all. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!!

Saturday, March 25, 2006


BlogJockey(BJ) Babsbitchin' Interviews Jolene, Bubba's wife on discrimination.
this is an audio post - click to play


Ode to Mickelino

I really want to kiss a frog,

Not a fish, a cat or even a dog.
They say you must kiss a lot of frogs,
to find a prince but I've found only hogs.
I hope to kiss that frog one day,
but with my luck, I know he'll turn out to be gay!!


I snuck in and borrowed this from Hell's Kitchen, my homie not far from where I live. I risked my integrity to bring you this at the cost of looking like a theif in the night, which of course, I've never ever been called before. Just to bring you this in case you travel. My God, what if you're in a group of traveling dignitaries and they need to know what the sign means, well, you don't want to be the one that looks like he's/ she's not the sharpest peanut in the turd, right? Anything for you, gentle reader, anything for you!!


No one can argue that make-up sex is the very best stuff known to man or beast. You're usually still pissed off and you tend to take it out on each other through sexual inuendo, posturing and it always has a raw edge. You do everything but beat the shit out of each other but you do it through sex. I'm not talking about the kind of tender stuff, I think it's called,"lovemaking." No, I'm talking about the stuff where there's some hair pulling and flipping and ass smacking and throwin' down, raw, get it on, screw me blue, show me what you're made of, sex. This particular story was all that.
We'd broke up after a physical fight. He got ugly and I got uglier and then he showed me what ugly was all about. But it wasn't long and he came back, telling me all the things I thought I needed to hear cause he could talk a good game, he was one of the best in his field. Of course, he had to be a good-looking but rough and scarred Sioux Indian with a traditional prominent nose, my entire weakness, built like a brick shit house but he was as charming as a rattlesnake. Somehow I fell for this guy, over and over again, the kinda love that you look at them and they take your breathe away and your heart thumps and you start acting stupid. I became very submissive with him and he took advantage of it. Next thing ya know, Babs the Bitch would surface and a fight would ensue, it was partly my fault cause I really misled him that I was a nice girl and I'm not.
He'd come back after being MIA for 4 weeks and in that span of time, I'd made the decision to get my long black, straight hair, permed. It was my first and last but it was the 80's and a heavy metal thing to do. I'd tease it up in the front, you know the,"claw thing," that we did back then. I'd just wanted a change. I was tan by the time he'd come back, spending a lot of time at the pool with the kids and talking to the life guard, a good looking fellow who told me all his secrets and aspirations but it was more of a Mom thing as he was away from home attending college and working the summer vacation. As I suspected he was also gay, all the good looking guys are gay, it's something I realized long before he came out to me.
We made plans for us all to go to Westmoreland State Park in Southern Va., the very day he got there and packed up and left, kids in tow. We rented a cabin, the same one we'd had before. As we paid for the cabin, the Park Rangers handed us a flyer. There'd been a high incidence of rabid raccoons this year. DO NOT FEED THE RACCOONS!!, was emblazoned on the top of the page. They were in the habit of stealing food too but they were trying to keep them away from the public this year and not feeding them or getting close enough for them to bite you was the big message. So, we settled into our cabin, it was late by the time we'd made it out there after going to the grocery store, liquor store,hardware store, every frigin' store he felt we needed to go to to be set up. He started drinking his whiskey (never give an Indian whiskey, it used to be a law for a damn good reason) while he cooked out on the grill. The kids ran around playing, fighting, getting in to stuff, the usual fare but they wore out quickly and as it got dark we put them to bed. This was a one room cabin but it had 2 bunk beds and a double bed, just what we needed. So, the kids are all snug in the cabin and Sonny and I sit out side at the picnic table. We talk, he drank and after a while, I drank too. I'd got to the point where I really couldn't stand him if he was drinking unless I was drinking too. It was never a good combination,at all. We did shot after shot of black velvet, right out of the bottle, as usual with a bottle of coke to chase it down. It was all fine and dandy till he brought up my new hairstyle and why would I wait to get it done the minute he left? Who was I trying to look good for? "You're all tan," then it went on to who was I screwing? The lifeguard, who was it? It got ugly quick and he was making me crazy. I was telling him, I didn't care about this fucking hair and I started pulling at my hair and handing it to him. "Here, I'll rip it out for you, does that make you happy?" I handed him another handful and he grabbed me in abear hug and was telling me he was sorry but couldn't stand the thought of me with someone else. I was mad as hell, crazy mad and had had enough. I think he knew it and started to kiss me all over, pulling at my cloths and guiding me to the back of the cabin which was on the edge of the woods. He pulled my cloths off of me and with one quick rip pulled my panites off, the secret art of panty ripping while you're still standing. I ripped his button down shirt clean open, buttons flying and struggled with his jeans. He never wore underwear. He almost threw me to the ground and was doing all the magic he knew to do, this was the only reason we were together cause he was an artist when it came to this. I grabbed a handful of his long black hair and pulled him into me and it was on, the dance of the savage. All that pent up anger, all the hate, love, trapped steam was coming out in this act of the primal, cave dwellers .I was on my back, he crossed my legs, just like if you sat Indian style, against my chest, holding them down. This was the shit and I was loving every minute. I put my head back and happened to open my eyes. It was dark but I saw at least two sets of yellow eyes. Rabid Raccoons, OMG!! I am so claustraphopic and he has me pinned down. I'd been moaning with pleasure and pain but now I was making this primal noise, a gutteral moan of speechless, get the fuck off me OMG, I'm about to be raped by rabid raccoons. I moaned but began beating on him and he says,"Oh yea baby, you like that shit don't you." I was finally able to at least whisper loadly, "Raccoons, " and I pointed behind me. He saw them watching us and never missed a stroke as he said, "They can go get their own, this is mine." Then he yelled," Get your own," they ran off and he had his way with me. Oh, how I loved make-up sex!!

Friday, March 24, 2006


A woman got on a bus holding a baby. The bus driver looked at the child and blurted out, "That`s the ugliest baby I've ever seen!"

Infuriated, the woman slammed her fare into the fare box and took an aisle seat near the rear of the bus. The man seated next to her sensed that she was agitated and asked her what was wrong.

"The bus driver insulted me," she fumed.

The man sympathized and said, "Why, he shouldn't say things to insult passengers. He could be fired for that."

"You're right," she said. "I think I'll go back up there and give him a piece of my mind!"

"That's a good idea," the man said. "Here, let me hold your monkey."


Go see Frog and you'll know exactly why I have to wear Depends. He's killing me, crazy Parisian!!


An old guy in his Volvo is driving home from work when his wife rings him on his carphone.

"Honey", she says in a worried voice, "Be careful! There was a bit on the news just now, some lunatic is driving the wrong way down the freeway".

"It's worse than that!", he replies, "There are hundreds of them!"

Thursday, March 23, 2006


I've been pissed all morning and need to vent. I am extremely happy that those 3 hostages were rescued. The 4th watched from heaven. Reading about it all in the news, they happened to mention the name of Nick Berg. If you do not know who he is, he was a business man from Pa. and was taken hostage. They used Nick Berg as an example. They beheaded him on film and I saw the footage. I can remember it like it was yesterday but it was more than two years ago. Someone told me to go to and I could see it. I sat by myself in my lonely room in the boarding house, fresh out of prison, and watched on my laptop, these people beheading this guy. Now, folks, I've seen some shit in my day, real shit, but this took my breath away. I watched as they sentenced him, then grabbed him by the hair, pulled his head back and slit his throat. They then started sawing at his neck to get his head off. All the while you could hear instant pain and then gurgling. He was choking to death on his own blood first and then succumbed to this heinous act. The press thought it a hoax but it most certainly was not.
I was in prison with a black girl Kim, a muslim. She wore the head covering the whole time in prison and di the whole Muslim thing. When I went to the half way house, she came shortly after and became my room mate. We became good friends. I respected her religious beliefs and gave her the benefit of the doubt. We were in the half way house for 6 months. She found a room in a house, in a black neighborhood and they had another bigger room upstairs and I took it. I just wanted out of the D.O.C. system immediate grip. Parole approved for us both to live there and we became best friends. We did everything together. I cooked for her or she cooked for me. If I bought cigarettes, I'd often buy them for her as she didn't make as much money as I did. I was kind to her, I befriended her and I trusted her. Slowly things began to change. She'd taken off the head wrap burka thing a while back but I never said a word. That's between her and her God. She still claimed to be Muslim and argued on behalf of the Muslim faith with anybody who would engage her. I did not engage, nor did I have any interest in converting her, changing her point of view and did my very best to stay away from the subject. Then, I saw the Nick Berg beheading. I was stunned by this, I really was. Had it been just a news article, I'd probably have thought about it a minute or so and gone about my business. But I watched a man die and it effected me deeply. I shared everything with Kim, as I told you and when she came home that night from work, she came upstairs as usual. I had to show her this video. It had grabbed a hold of me and was shaking me inside. Not just because of the act itself but the whole thing, politically and religiously had turned me upside down. I turned it on and she watched as they cut into this man in cold blood and announced, "Yep, ya don't fuck with the brothers. Ya don't wanna fuck with us Muslims. We don't play, we do not play." She might as well have kicked me in the teeth cause I sat there stunned. All I could do was look at her for a minute. It was no longer two girlfriends sitting together. No, as a matter of fact, now it was a white girl and a black girl. Now, it was a Christian and a Muslim. Now, it was fair and unfair, right and wrong, the Devil and the Angel. It was Kim and Barb sitting across from each other, now, two total strangers. All I could mutter was, "Get Out," as I stood up and headed towards her. My mind was racing. If I hit her, no, beat her ass, no, kill her, like I wanted to, I'd pass go and immediately land in jail. She starting stammering, "what,what?" I told her through my teeth, "Get the fuck outa here before I beat your wanna be Muslim black fucking ass, get the fuck out, you piece of fucking shit." She almost fell backwards down the steps. She knew she had pushed me beyond a point of religious discussion or political jargon. Now, bitch, you stepped on Ol' Glory that's draped across my heart. I wanted to kill her. She started yelling down the stairs, she didn't mean it like all that. Well, I took it personal, still do and the very last words out of my mouth to her were,"Never talk out your ass, never write checks your ass can't cash and never fucking talk to me again." That was it, that was all. We'd lived together for a whole year but it all ended that day. We avoided each other and I moved out a year to the day and never looked back. Still burns my ass to this day. Wanna be Muslim, barbaric bullshit!! Fuck You!!

i'm the bees knees.

i'm the bees knees.

If you have the moxy, you need to read Bees story. It's a tale to be told 'round many a fireplace or dinner party fodder. I offer up my comments in support of her touching, hard to endure story. I too am a sister in the abuse/abuser and if it helps you too to deal with your everyday life, I will stand behind bees and bare all, (note behind Bees te he)
OMG, I had a similar incident but I had chili peppers stuffed up my ass. I was able to get three out but I'm not sure about the rest. I was partying w/ the Banditos and woke up, still drunk from tequila. I remember something about a bet and how many but I'll tell you what I just love those parties. I was fartin' flames for days. Bees, believe it or not these are the Kodak moments of our lives. Did you check yourself for chili peppers? One never knows. Bees, you have all the fun, why what I'd do to to it all again.

knottyboy, you dug deep to get that story out.
I woke up in a field once on a cool crisp morning the dew on my ass was not from the grass, party panties all frilly in a bunch, I'd not behaved,I had a hunch. I heard him call Babs, with his voice so deep, but when I awoke, it was only sheep.
I "m not ashamed to say, that's happened more than twice!!

Gravatar I had cleared my cookies but I am the masked poet. I'm the guilty party, the anonymous commentor. The fat girl in the pumkin suit spewing corny tidbits of reality. Yes, it is me Babs just a bitchin'. I made that up for you Bees and knotty.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006


OK, I hired a P.I. and this is what the SOB does when I'm not home. In the first pic, you see it is blurry but clear evidence of him having a party. The second pic that good for nothin' wine guzzling Fat Bastard is passed out. Ladies and gentleman, you can see the shit I must endure on a daily basis??


Look out people this could get ugly. I'm either fucking retarded or Internet Exployer is, I'll let you be the judge. I had to use my system restore today and go back to a more pleasant time in my life (1973, Iwish), even up to a month ago. My browser, default was IE but I tend to use Firefox. So, then IE toolbars were unusable, locked up with no recourse. My blogger page sidebar sits at the bottom and I can't seem to change it. I did everything known to man, beast and this bitch to figure it out. My conclusion; IE is out and Mozilla can move in and screw me for all I care. Here's the check book you monster you and take my credit card too baby cause Mama said, anything for you, you foxy bastard!! ~Don't ya love it when I talk dirty?


Three women die together in an accident and go to heaven.
When they get there, St Peter says, "We only have one rule here in heaven:
don't step on the ducks!"
So they enter heaven, and sure enough, there are ducks all over the place.
It is almost impossible not to step on a duck, and although they try their
best to avoid them, the first woman accidentally steps on one.
Along comes St. Peter with the ugliest man she ever saw.
St. Peter chains them together and says, "Your punishment for stepping on a
duck is to spend eternity chained to this ugly man!"
The next day, the second woman steps accidentally on a duck and along comes
St. Peter, who doesn't miss a thing. With him is another extremely ugly man.
He chains them together with the same admonishment as for the first woman.
The third woman has observed all this and, not wanting to be chained for all
eternity to an ugly man, is very, VERY careful where she steps.
She manages to go months without stepping on any ducks, but one day St.
Peter comes up to her with the most handsome man she has ever laid eyes on .
very tall, long eyelashes, muscular, and thin. St. Peter chains them
together without saying a word.
The happy woman says, "I wonder what I did to be chained to you for all

The guy says, "I don't know about you, but I stepped on a duck!"

Tuesday, March 21, 2006


There's this guy in a bar, just looking at his drink. He stays like that for half-an-hour. Then, this big trouble-making truck driver steps next to him, takes the drink from the guy and just drinks it all down.

The poor man starts crying. The truck driver says: "Come on man, I was just joking. Here, I'll buy you another drink. I just can't see a man crying."

"No, it's not that. This day is the worst of my life. First, I fall asleep, and I go late to my office. My boss, outraged, fires me.

"When I leave the building, to my car, I found out it was stolen. The police, they say they can do nothing.

"I get a cab to return home and when I leave it, I remember I left my wallet and credit cards there. The cab driver just drives away.

"I go home, and when I get there, I find my wife in bed with the gardener. I leave home, and come to this bar.

"And just when I was thinking about putting an end to my life, you show up and drink my poison."


According to a radio report, a middle school in Oregon was faced with a unique problem. A number of girls were beginning to use lipstick and would put it on in the restroom. That was fine, but after they put on their lipstick, they would press their lips to the mirror leaving dozens of little lip prints.

Finally the principal decided that something had to be done. She called all of the girls to the restroom and met them there with the maintenance man.

She explained that all these lip prints were causing a major problem for the custodian who had to clean the mirrors every night. To demonstrate how! difficult it was to clean the mirrors, she asked the maintenance guy to clean one of them. He took a long handled squeegee, dipped it into the toilet and then cleaned the mirror.

Since then, there have been no lip prints on the mirrors.

Just about the time I get cocky and act like I know what the hell I'm doing, my computer shows me who's boss. Well, we'll see about that!!


A guy stood over his tee shot for what seemed an eternity, looking up, looking down, measuring the distance, figuring the wind direction and speed, driving his partner nuts.

Finally his exasperated partner says, "What the heck is taking so long? Hit the darned ball!"

The guy answers, "My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse. I want to make this a perfect shot."

"Give me a break! You don't stand a snowball's chance in hell of hitting her from here."

Monday, March 20, 2006


Do you see the kinda weirdo cat that calls me master? See, I taught him to sit just like my ex-husband. All he needs now, is a Budweiser and the remote!!

DAMMIT, we can't have nice things: That's an Excellent Question

DAMMIT, we can't have nice things: That's an Excellent Question

OK kids, this is what you really need to see to simplify things but only if you take it in the...

Sunday, March 19, 2006


It was 1965? I'd just gone to see the movie Mary Poppins at the theatre and thought it was by far the coolest thing I'd ever seen in my entire life (secretly I still do:) I wanted to fly and used to jump out of trees and pretend I was flying on a magic carpet, a little rug in my bedroom. Well, when I saw Mary Poppins flying with an umbrella, I knew I'd found a way to do it, to fly. We all do dumb shit in our lives, this happens to be one of mine.
I got the only umbrella I could find, an old black one in the back of the coat closet. I snuck up to my room with it and a hair brained scheme. If this worked, I'd charge the neighborhood kids a quarter to do it too. I took the screen out of my window, quietly laid it to the side, so Mom didn't hear me. I carefully climbed out onto the window ledge, carefully mind you cause ANY dumbass knows if you fall out of a second story window it's gonna hurt. I inched my behind out to the very edge of the window and fought to grab the umbrella, laying against the wall inside, under the window. ANY dumbass, also knows, you don't open an umbrella in the house cause that's bad luck. So, I got the umbrella out and opened it, steadied myself, hesitating, as I wanted to relish this take-off moment. I pushed off with force so I'd clear the bush down below, holding on for dear life to the umbrella. It was over in an instant. The umbrella went inside out and landed a few feet away from me as I crashed to the ground, with a sickening thud, that took my breath away. I thought I was dead or dying for a moment as I struggled to breathe, I fell hard enough it had knocked the wind out of me. I opened my eyes, no Angels. I went to get up and realized I couldn't stand up, it was too painful. I tried again and groaned with the pain. Surprisingly, I didn't cry but with all the strength I could muster, began crawling towards the front porch. It took forever to reach the steps which gave me time to think about the kid up the street, my friend Patty. Now, Patty and I played together, every now and then, but she was in a wheelchair and I thought well at least I can play with Patty now and we can race in our wheelchairs and have fun and I'll put cards on the wheels so they click when I really get going and on and on. I swear she had a motorized one and that's why I wanted one too but I don't know if they even had them back then. Why else would I think it was cool to get my own wheelchair? Mom had to take me to the hospital and I asked for a wheelchair but was denied, those bastards. OH NOOOOOO, I had to use crutches and stay in most of that summer, on the couch watching stupid soap operas, General Hospital, Guiding Light and crap like that. Sometimes, I had to go over to the Scogno's across the street and stay on their couch, while Mom worked at her part-time job. They didn't even watch the good soap operas, that by now, I'd finally succumbed to and all they had was a black and white T.V. While I heard all my friends outside rollerskating or riding bikes, I was stuck in the house and had to sit with a box of 64 Crayola crayons, that were supposed to sustain me in my new life and color till the cows came home. No one had sympathy for me, I thought I was a paraplegic and wanted attention. I lied and said I fell out of the tree out back but they still didn't really feel as sorry for me as I thought they should. They didn't make me jello or cut the crust off my peanut butter n jelly sandwich or anything. I still, at 47 years old, have never had the guts to tell my Mom what really happened. All because I wanted to fly and it shoulda worked. It took me years to get over that disappointment in life. I still have all the respect in the world for Mary Poppins cause she had mastered it and always will. Kudo's Mary!!

My Very First Chiropractic Experience/Cool!!

So, yesterday, I went for my very first visit to Dr. Ken, a very nice man. Very professional, but I'd heard about the Quackery behind Chiropractics according to M.D.'s, so I think I was a bit reserved when I went in. My sister had made the appointment for me and was even paying for it. I've been in pain for years of varying degrees, from my the car accident when I was 18 to the Surgeries I'd had to remove two ribs, move the nerve and artery because of Thoracic Outlet Syndrome. I've suffered a long time with pain, thus the heroin addiction. I'll be clean from that 8 years, this June. Point being, I've lived with pain for a long time and when I get something extra going on, I've just about had enough. It felt like I had a pinched nerve in my shoulder blade but radiated to my neck and into my shoulder. It even made my arm hurt. I was ready to try anything. Either people are really for chiropractics as an art or they are so against it. Of course, I think a lot of my reservation was from the Dr.'s I had who of course were not going to recommend anyone that is not in their clique, that's just the politics of it all.Dr. Ken is the shit!
I went in to the office and it was pleasant with Enya playing, very relaxing. I filled out a few papers and he asked about my TOS. He knew, extensively about the syndrome. He took me in and sat me down first, then laid me down on a massage table. He began withe seeing that my hips were out of line and began a deep tissue maipulation, working his way up my spine. He found my spots, the very painful ones, with trained hands. I really didn't even tell him. But what surprised me the most, was when he found the lump in my neck on the right, below my medulla oblongata, at the vertebrae. That's a trained hand. He then went back down my back at the exact places that I was hurting, without prompt and was finding all this stuff that was out of line and he said that having it like this could cause me to feel like I can't breathe. HOLD UP RIGHT THERE!! That was one of my biggest complaints lately and I attributed it to anxiety. I told him this and he said ,well, not being able to breathe will certainly cause anxiety. It has been bad enough that I had ordered Xanax online because I couldn't stand not being able to breathe. I attributed it to the Post Traumatic (dramatic) Stress disorder, I'd been diagnosed with. That coupled with Battered Women's Syndrome can cause such anxiety but I thought I'd overcome all that. He cracked this and that and moved this and that and it hurt. I yelled out, Oh, SHIT," at one point and he said, "Yea, that was an Oh, shit moment." Although, I'm sore all over, I feel different. I'm going back on Friday and Saturday as he said I had a lot going on. I believe him and believe in him. Dr. Ken is the shit!! I gotta thank my lil' Sis, Traci for turning me on to him AND paying for it. Does it get any better than that?

The Blonde and the Snow Plow

A blonde driving a car became lost in a snowstorm. She didn't panic however, because she remembered what her dad had once told her. "If you ever get stuck in a snowstorm, just wait for a snow plow to come by and follow it."

Sure enough, pretty soon a snow plow came by, and she started to follow it. She followed the plow for about forty-five minutes.

Finally the driver of the truck got out and asked her what she was doing. And she explained that her dad had told her if she ever got stuck in a snow storm, to follow a plow.

The driver nodded and said, "Well, I'm done with the Wal-Mart parking lot, do you want to follow me over to K-Mart now?"




CALABASAS, Calif., March 19 — No more smoking in the park. Lighting up on the sidewalk could bring a fine. Dining on the restaurant patio? Don't bother asking for matches.

One of the strictest tobacco bans in the nation went into effect in the Los Angeles suburb of Calabasas last week, making smoking off limits in public places where someone else might be exposed to secondhand smoke: indoor businesses, outdoor businesses, parks, outdoor cafes, even apartment building common areas.
''We just don't want anyone blowing smoke in someone's face. Unfortunately, what smokers do is harmful to everybody else. People should have the right to breathe clean air,'' said Mayor Pro Tem Dennis Washburn.
California air-quality regulators declared secondhand smoke a toxic air pollutant earlier this year.
The city took it a step farther, declaring secondhand smoke to be a public nuisance and approving an ordinance banning smoking in all public places — indoors and out — where people might congregate.
Hotels can still allow smoking in up to 20 percent of their rooms, and smoking can be allowed in approved designated areas at shopping malls and work places in the upscale city of 23,000 residents.
*But if a nonsmoker asks a smoker to stop, the smoker must snuff it or face a possible fine in the hundreds of dollars or even a lawsuit.~(I fucking double dog dare ya. Ya better call the police and an ambulance)
''We salute Calabasas for raising the bar,'' said Jim Knox, a legislative advocate for the American Cancer Society in Sacramento. ''Smoke regulations can play a very important role in reducing public exposure to harmful secondhand smoke.''
Nationally, hundreds of U.S. cities and several states restrict smoking. In California, where communities have been at the forefront of smoking bans, San Francisco last year banned smoking in parks and stadiums, and oceanfront communities' smoking bans have inspired others in Florida and Delaware to designate smoke-free beaches.
Among the states, Colorado lawmakers last week approved a statewide ban on smoking in most public building, and New Jersey's Smoke-Free Air Act, under fire from bar owners because it exempts casino gambling floors, goes into effect April 15.

On the Net:


Next it'll be smoke SS Officers running around.I'd be the first white Rodney King beatdown. They'd have to fine me cause I'd have to tell 'em to blow smoke out there ass if I was outside smoking minding my own business. Move the fuck away from me, you oxygen hog ass bitches. There's a whole world for you to suck the wind from just get away from my little piece, ya bunch of complaining stand around the barbeque and drink, yogurt eating, dance around the bonfire, incense burning, fireplace warming, vegan healthy,swipes contradiction walking, good for nothing, waste of skin, sons a bitches!! Here I got something you can smoke, too!!


DEA Seizes Toka-Cola And Buddafingers In Big Pot Raid


11:44 a.m. PST March 17, 2006

OAKLAND, Calif. - Members of the Drug Enforcement Administration announced a huge marijuana bust in Oakland Thursday. Among the confiscated items were thousands of pot plants and hundreds of pot-laced candy bars made to look like popular candy bars. Agents arrested 39-year-old Kenneth Affolte, of Lafayette. Twelve other people were also arrested on charges of distribution of marijuana. Agents served five federal search warrants without incident. Three of them were served at warehouses located in Emeryville and Oakland and one at Affolter's home in Lafayette. All searches conducted were at locations associated with Affolter. Agents seized four indoor marijuana growing operations, between 4,000 and 5,000 marijuana plants, $100,000 in cash, three weapons and hundreds of marijuana-laced candy and soft drinks, according to the Drug Enforcement Administration. Special Agent in Charge Javier Peña said, "In a way, this case sort of answers the question, 'What will they think of next?' What so many people don't realize is that innocent children will somehow get their hands on these products and think they are just normal candy or soft drinks, thus making this action not only illegal, but potentially tragic." The investigation began in October 2005, when the DEA Oakland Resident Office obtained information that said Affolter was operating "Beyond Bomb," a manufacturer of marijuana candy in Oakland. The marijuana-laced candy and other edibles manufactured by the company mimic the name and appearance of well-known name brand candies and products. Some of the product labels seized by investigators include Stoney Ranchers, Munchy Way, Rasta Reese's, Buddafingers, Pot Tarts, Double Puff Oeo, Tri-Chrome Crunch, Keef Kat, Twixed, Budtella, Puff-A-Mint Pattie, Puffsi, Bong's Root Beer, and Toka-Cola. The investigation was conducted with the assistance of the Richmond Police Department, Oakland Police Department, Vallejo Police Department, Lafayette Police Department, Bureau of Narcotic Enforcement, Contra Costa County Narcotics Enforcement Team, and the Alameda County Narcotics Task Force. The case is being prosecuted by the United States Attorney's Office in the Northern District of California.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Blogger or Mozilla or something is at warfare with my computer. Their hijinx is pissing me off. You can't post photo's and it had some bullshit on my post on Internet Exployer. This is a test. It's a damn good thing I don't have a gun right now cause I'd be doing some Elvis on this moniter.



1 lb. Macaroni / any kind

12oz. + Swiss cheese

2 +cups cubed Ham

¾ stick Butter/Margarine

1 ¼ milk or ½ n ½

1 tbsp parsley

~ In a large 4 Qt. pan, cook Macaroni a la dente’. Cube Ham. Cube Swiss. In a large 2qt. bowl put cubes of cheese, butter, milk, pinch salt and good pinch, garlic powder and microwave in 2 minute, increments, stirring until melted. Drain macaroni. While draining put a pat of butter in pan and sauté ham lightly, enough to warm. Combine all ingredients, in pan and serve. Nice addition would be broccoli or scallion

Friday, March 17, 2006


I'm an awful lot like my Father. I'm the only one in the family that got his black hair but not his sky blue eyes. Dad was a good-looking fireman and I thought my father was wonderful but Mom didn't and they got divorced when I was 11 years old. I didn't see as much of my father for a while as the feud between my parents made it a bad situation. My Dad was a man of medium height and weight but he carried himself big. That may have been because he always carried two guns. One in his waist band, in a shoulder holster or in the small of his back and one always strapped to his ankle. When I was old enough, I always carried a gun too, until as a felon, I could no longer legally have one. He also carried a flask in his back pocket, a gift from his father Big Micky, with the monogram, "MO'D. He was an Irishman of the highest caliber. He always instilled in me, "Don't give no shit, don't take no shit." He'd tell me to "Never start a fight but always finish it." I was always a tomboy, still am and my Dad, also, taught me to fight. But Dad would tell me in a serious tone, "In a street fight, you're not there to box, you're there to get in and get out with your pride intact. You'll get over the pain of a black eye before you'll get over the pain of your integrity taken so if they're bigger and you're gonna get your ass kicked ya either find an equalizer or you let 'em know you were there. They won't forget you. Sure it's gonna hurt if you get hit but ya gotta keep your cool and think. There are always a way to hurt someone in every situation. Just keep your cool and think." I remembered, it all too and when the time came, I kept my cool, didn't think about the pain and fought like hell. He taught me so much and always told me to face my fears no matter what, don't be afraid. I've held on to that all my life. When he was dying of cancer, the very last thing I said to him was, "Dad, you're going to be ok. We're Fighting Irish." But it back fired on me cause I never said good-bye cause I'd not given in or given up, I was still fighting when he couldn't. So, Dad where ever you are, in heaven, I hope today you're having corned beef and cabbage and drinking green beer. Happy St. Patrick's Day!!


A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead all work at the same office for a female boss who always goes home early.

"Hey, girls," says the brunette, "let's go home early tomorrow. She'll never know."

So the next day, they all leave right after the boss does. The brunette gets some extra gardening done, the redhead goes to a bar, and the blonde goes home to find her husband having sex with the female boss! She quietly sneaks out of the house and returns at her normal time.

"That was fun," says the brunette. "We should do it again sometime."

"No way," says the blonde. "I almost got caught."


Thursday, March 16, 2006


If you wonder at all, here's a small bit from a chapter of the book I'm writing. You're welcome to critique it, constructive critism only, please, as this is my life, not fiction. This is only a small piece to the story but it leads to when I shot SB. This is also a rough draft.

It was late when he came and I never said a word but if he felt guilty about something he would make an argument telling me that I’ve had an attitude with him for two weeks now. It was always, ”Two weeks.” Then he started muttering about how I was a good for nothing whore and my fucking kids were a pain in the ass. He was going to kill my Wayne. Then he started in on the kids again, Why would they fucking lie and tell them I beat them, why? Maybe I shoulda beat those fucking brats of yours. You know no fucking man would want you with those fucking kids and your stupid fucking ass. Look at you, you’re a fucking cunt, a bitch fucking cunt! I had been in many a fist fight in my day, never liked to fight but I always fought for the under dog, the weak. I’d never had my ass whipped by anyone except my mother and this man. And as I listened to his barrage of insult after insult, I knew very well by now if I said anything it would become a war. But as he kept spewing them out, I’d finally had enough and had made the decision in my mind that I was ready to fight when I said, NO, FUCK YOU!! Boom, down I went that quick but I got back up and asked him to just leave, please just fucking leave as I backed into the bedroom. He hit me again and this time I came up swinging and bloodied his nose and I was swinging and fighting till he got me on the bed and with his weight upon my legs, he held me by my head with his left hand and just pummeled me with his right. Blow after blow and I really had no leverage to fight back, all I could do was scratch and pull and tear at his face and then I felt his little finger go into my mouth. I bit down as hard as I possibly could and ground my teeth at the same time. He reared up, trying to pull his finger out of my mouth but I was holding on for dear life. He began to beg me to please let go, he was sorry, please let go and he was in so much pain. I could only see, really out of one eye but from the contorted look on his face, I knew I was really hurting him. I let go, I didn’t want to hurt him like that. He was waving his finger around like it was on fire and I felt awful for hurting him like that. I thought it was over but he reared up and came at me still laying on the bed and began to beat me in the head. Left, right, left, right, a continuous prize winning beat down. It was so furious I couldn’t even fight back. I lay there and took every hit till he began to tire. I acted like I was passed out, as I went limp .I didn’t know how else to get him to stop. When he slapped me across the face, I stayed limp as he yelled you’re fucking faking you dirty bitch. But I didn’t move. I could tell he was standing over me looking down but I didn’t move and I slowed my breathing the best I could. He began to cry and was saying, OMG,OMG over and over again. He began to caress my hair and was crying that he was sorry, I’m so sorry. Please B, please wake up. I tried to open my eyes but I couldn’t, they were swollen shut. I coughed from all the blood in my throat and began to choke on it. I tried to sit up but couldn’t and layed back down. I reached blindly for the garbage can to spit out the blood. He handed me the can and I spit out more than blood, I was spitting out clots of blood. I eventually was able to open my right eye enough to see just a little as he stood over me crying. I remember thinking how fucking much I hated him and wished he was dead. I closed my eye, I didn’t even want to look at him. As I lay on the bed, he began to whisper at my side, “Please forgive me. Please don’t call the police, please please.” He was begging and I don’t really think it was forgiveness. No, he’d seen what he’d done and was now afraid to go to jail. So, he set in motion a clean up of the situation. Here, let me get you some ice. When he came back with the ice and handed it to me, I just sat it on the night stand and turned over, so maybe I’d stop choking on the blood. I felt like crying and could feel it welling up inside. He’d gone and got me some water and offered it to me. I couldn’t drink it my lips were too swollen and it just went all over the front of me. I laid back down, on my side. He curled up behind me and was telling me how much he loved me and that I was the only woman he ever loved and how sorry he was and he only wanted us to be happy and if I hadn’t told him fuck you none of this would have happened but I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met and he was always jealous cause the guys would look at me and he ended up taking it out on me and he was sorry for that and on and fucking on. I was in hell as I listened to him. He began to kiss my neck and down my back, all the while saying, I love you B. He turned me over and began taking my clothes off. He couldn’t get my shirt off my head was too swollen so he lifted my bra and began kissing my nipples and sucking on them forcefully. He worked his way down and was performing oral sex on me and I had to act like I liked it, I just knew I had to pretend. This was all part of the damage control, the make-up fuck but it felt like rape as he mounted me and forcefully had sex with me. It was rough and brutal and I fucking hated him every stinking minute. He was so drunk and he was sloppy and rough and it took forever. I lay there thinking how could he possibly be erect and as hard as he was looking at me like this. But it is probably what turned him on in the first place. Our sex life had always been fantastic; it was the only thing that was good but this felt like rape of the 1st degree. When he was done he pulled his button fly jeans on, left open. I used to think it was so sexy but now with what little I could see I could have easily vomited just from the sight of him and yet, I had to act like, like everything was ok. I told him I knew I shouldn’t have told him fuck you and I was sorry and we’d work this all out and I’d never yell at him again and as he laid back on the bed listening to me, telling him I’d desearved it all and I’d had an attitude for two weeks and he was right and I loved him more than life and I wouldn’t dare call the police because they wouldn’t understand and we can work this out and yada fucking yada. He finally passed out, cross ways on the bed. He was so drunk, in a black out and as I called his name to see if he was still awake, he began to snore heavily, something he always did if he was really drunk. I was so scared. I could hardly see but I had to get to a phone and call the police. We didn’t have a phone because SB said we didn’t need one cause we could use the pay phone down at the store. What he really meant was he didn’t want me to have access to a phone easily. My legs were wobbly; my adrenaline was flowing so hard my teeth were chattering. The Iranian’s upstairs had a phone, I knew cause I had secretly used it before and as I quietly closed the front door and began to run up the stairs, I fell hard but held in the cry. I quietly knocked on the door and with a finger to my lips gesturing to hush; the young Iranian college students let me in. I called the police, gave them the address and yes, he did have a loaded .22 long rifle in the bedroom behind him, beside the bed but he’s passed out. They sent a small swat team to extract him. He was too startled and drunk to fight. As he walked past me, he whispered, “you fucking bitch.” He glared at me from the back of the patrol car as they drove him away. The Officer who took the report had called an ambulance for me but I had refused treatment. In my sick world, I’d gotten used to this and just wanted to go to sleep. As the ambulance drove away, and the officer and I were walking back to my apartment, I missed a step and fell. He picked me up and carried me to his patrol car and took me to the hospital. He sat with me for a while, nice Italian guy. He then had to get back to work and handed me cash for a cab home if I needed it. He just kept saying don’t take him back, please don’t. If you could see yourself right now, that’s not love, that’s not any love I’ve ever seen. He knew this wasn’t the first time he’d done this to me but this was the worst one. I just kept thinking about nothing other than he’s gonna get out and really kick my ass for putting him in jail now. That’s all I could think about. The Doctor wanted to admit me. He said,” we need to watch you. One more blow and you’d be dead. You’ve got a massive blood clot behind your ear, that, I’m real concerned about.” I told him, just give me some fucking pain pills, please, so I can go home, I just want to go home and go to sleep. That’s all I want. He did and taped my broken nose to one side, gave me the ice packs, a referral for my two cracked teeth. I grabbed a cab, went to the all night drug store, like some circus freak and filled my script and went home. I took about three pain pills and debated taking all 30 of the pills in the bottle. I even dropped them into my hand. As I slowly took three and could hardly do that. It was hard to open my mouth and swallow the pills. While it took so long, thoughts of my children raced through my head. As bad as I felt, I couldn’t abandon hope and leave them where they were I had to fight. But for now I just want to sleep. I crawled into bed with my bloody clothes, into a bloody bed that looked like a homicide had been committed, it might as well have been, it felt like a homicide. I slept and slept for two days. When I awoke, I couldn’t even open my eyes at all. Now, I wished I would have never woke up, never.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006


I don't which is worse, this or the plumbers grin?


If I'm not Irish I'll kiss your arse but they played this at my wedding reception!



Oh the night that Paddy Murphy died, is a night I'll never forget
Some of the boys got loaded drunk, and they ain't got sober yet;
As long as a bottle was passed around ever
y man was feelin' gay
O'Leary came with the bagpipes, some music for to play

That's how they showed their respect for Paddy Murphy
That's how they showed their honour and their pride;
They said it was a sin and shame and they winked at one another
And every drink in the place was full the night Pat Murphy died

As Mrs. Murphy sat in the corner pouring out her grief
Kelly and his gang came tearing down the street
They went into an empty room and a bottle of whiskey stole
They put the bottle with the corpse to keep that whiskey cold

About two o'clock in the morning after empty'ing the jug
Doyle rolls up the ice box lid to see poor Paddy's mug
We stopped the clock so Mrs. Murphy couldn't tell the time
And at a quarter after two we argued it was nine

They stopped the hearse on George Street outside Sundance Saloon
They all went in at half past eight and staggered out at noon
They went up to the graveyard, so holy and sublime
Found out when they got there, they'd lef
t the corpse behind!

Oh the night that Paddy Murphy died, is a night I'll never forget
Some of the boys got loaded drunk and they ain't been sober yet;
As long as a bottle was passed around every man was feelin' gay
O'Leary came with the bagpipes, som
e music for to play


It's not even St.Paddy's Day and I'm feeling my Irish oates. I was born
Barbara Jean O'Dwyer. My family is green Irish but Mom had the tendancies of the orange. Non the less, I'm proud of my roots and the proud daughter of my father, Micky O'Dwyer. See O'Dwyer's Pub here


A very shy guy goes into a pub on St. Patrick's Day night and sees a beautiful woman sitting alone at the bar.

After an hour of gathering up his courage he finally goes over to her and asks tentatively, "Um, would you mind if I brought you a drink?"

She responds by yelling, at the top of her lungs, "No, I won't sleep with you tonight!"

Everyone in the pub is now staring at them. Naturally, the guy is hopelessly and completely embarrassed and he slinks back to his table totally red faced.

After a few minutes, the woman walks over to him and apologises. She smiles at him and says, "I'm really sorry if I embarrassed you just then. You see, I'm a graduate student in psychology and I'm studying how people respond to embarrassing situations."

The man responds, at the top of his lungs, "No I will not pay $200!"