You’ll Never Put a Finger on Me

I hope that the following continues to be indicative of the worst I have to bitch about, lol.

The mouse on my desktop took a shit yesterday AND the cats chewed through the power cord to MY laptop … WTF? Cats? Mice?

Anyway, the little barstids only chew on MY shit. MY charger cord, MY laptop cord … wtf? And why the HELL don’t they electrocute themselves the way it happens when that cat on the cartoons chews on cords.

ZZZZZZaaaappppppppp! All hair standing up and legs splayed out, burnt to a crisp.

Oh all right, I don’t really mean that.

But still … shit.

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BigD and I went to an “old time” rock show last night. Head East, Nazareth and April Wine. I don’t know the last time he and I went ALONE anywhere, let alone to a rock venue.

Uh yeah, we didn’t drink … we didn’t party … and we were by far NOT the oldest farts there. Seriously. The last time I saw so many bald heads, saggy boobies and flabby bellies was at one of the kids’ middle school parent-teacher conferences.

I am NOT kidding. Support stockings, wide bra straps slipping out from under lunch lady smock tops … my gawd, this is my generation.

:: sigh ::

Nazareth sucked a bit, except for Manny Charlton who is now fat and bald and looks like a school janitor, but whose guitar skills are STILL in-fucking-credible.

April Wine, the apparent “headliners” of the evening and my personal favorite of the three, were SO incredibly SUCK that we left after three songs. I was disappointed – I couldn’t even stand to wait around to see if they butchered “You Could Have Been a Lady” as badly as they did “Enough is Enough“.

However, Head East kicked some major ass and that, along with the fact that BigD enjoyed Nazareth, was well worth the $20 ticket fee.

Plus, I saw some big ol’ biker wearing a Kid Rock T-shirt – that was a grinner.

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So, this afternoon we have a big birthday party to attend … good thing we got our old asses home early last night because I have a feeling that tonight is gonna go an all-nighter.

Ta, mes bébés

Tube Snake Boogie

Sometimes I am such a man.

Last night I was doing my nails – y’know the REALLY LONG ones – and watching “The Longest Yard” and bellering things like “Get the cocksucker!” and “Run you stupid son-of-a-bitch!”

Granted this was a movie, but still … very unladylike comments.

But I occasionally DO see signs the testosteone levels might be spiking.

Like getting pissed off when I realize that someone didn’t put my tools back where they belong. Like feeling just a tad bit envious that my hub got a new cordless drill for Christmas (though he DID gived me the nifty little studfinder). The ability to spend as many hours wandering around slack-jawed in Home Depot as I do in Victoria’s Secret. That funny little tickle I get in when I see a REALLY pretty woman – though my tickle is located in a decidedly different place than a REAL man’s tickle would be.

The fact that I prefer Jim Beam to any of that syrupy pussy crap that women drink. The fact that I can slam more shots of JB than most men. Okay, that fact hasn’t been tested in many years; the estrogen (and age) wins that one.

I can squeal the tires of a five-speed, four-banger. I haven’t done that in a while either, but I figure it’s like riding a bicycle.

I can change and rotate my own tires AND replace the brake pads and shoes. I can also change my own oil. I am however smarter than a man in that I pretend that I don’t know how.

I can shoot pool like man and when I bend over the table, I ain’t doing it to get some man’s attention. Although I HAVE been told that I have perfect shoulder-to-hip ratio (figure it out for yourself).

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Then last night I dreamt that I cut my right eyelid off in order to better apply a strip of false eyelashes.

Think the estrogen is fighting back?

I’ll Suffer, Thanks

Fosamax is used to treat or prevent postmenopausal osteoporosis

Over a three-year period, the jaws of dozens of patients who had undergone oral surgery at his hospital had failed to heal properly. Part of the jawbone had died and become exposed.

“We never saw this before in the jaw” [ … ] “It just never existed.”

Further investigation revealed one common thread: All of the patients had been treated with at least one of a class of drugs called bisphosphonates.

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Requip is the first medication approved by the FDA for the treatment of moderate-to-severe primary Restless Leg Syndrome.

Some patients taking ropinirole have shown urges to behave in a way unusual for them. Examples of this are an unusual urge to gamble or increased sexual urges and/or behaviors.

And people want me to rush right out and get a prescription for Lyrica … a drug which has RECENTLY been approved for treatment of Fibromyalgia:

Lyrica is an anticonvulsant and neuropathic pain agent. How Lyrica works is not fully understood. It is thought to bind to certain areas in the brain that help reduce seizures, nerve pain, and anxiety.

I don’t fucking think so.