TV Foolishness...

  My back has been acting up again, which means that I have been watching a lot of TV...I mean a LOT lot. My TV watching lately rivals that of the children of an exhausted single mother...

  Flipping through the channel guide like my thumb has to move 50 MPH or the couch will blow up, I have noticed several things. First of all, as everyone knows, there is far too much "reality" TV. Second of all, they seem to be running out of names for these stupid shows. I blame CSI, cuz they started it with their CSI Miami (which RULES) and their CSI NY. And the upcoming one, CSI Russian River District. Baxman will be the Head CSI...

  And everything now is "Wars." Storage Wars, Weed Wars, Swamp Wars, Pawn Wars, Ice Cream Wars. So I thought of one. How about STFU Wars?

 The premise of the show is a bunch of people that keep their mouths shut and live the good life. I, of course, would be the star...the cameras would follow me around doing day to day things. Like taking the 65 pound Catahoula pup down to the river to run some beans off. We attract interesting-ness, I think. Like the emo kids that had to walk within feet of us on the deserted beach to go smoke some grass behind the bathrooms. I didn't care, live and let live, right? If they were that intent on getting where they were going that they didn't notice the squirrely-eyed psychopath of a canine running about, it's all good. If any one of them had an aversion to getting splatted with drool or sprayed with doggie river water they could have opted out of veering in our direction. If there were cameras, maybe I would have tossed Rex's tennis ball towards the emos because that would have been good television, but I would have still STFU'd and minded my own business and enjoyed the lovely day...especially after seeing Rex take out 3 of the emos like bowling pins and scaring the crap out of the one the ball landed closest to...

  The television audience would be treated to very very little drama, almost zero bullshit, and a LOT of dish doing. Like, a crazy amount. My family is allergic to clean dishes, they really are, I got the diagnosis from webmd...they break out in awful hives and their throats swell up if there aren't at least 2 dirty dishes in the sink. The fact that the dishes are in the sink is certainly a step in the right direction, but still. It could be 4am and they can sense when the last dish is clean and one of  'em will wake up and cook a 7 course meal...dessert and all...

  Everyone would get along on the show, no one would talk shit behind backs because we all would know that it's way more fun to talk shit directly TO the jerk, if one must. The best part would be that not one of us would complain about not having the biggest TV or that their mom wont get them the latest electronic gadget...we'd be happy with what we have and make the best of life and not be the stereotypical butthead TV people...

  It would be totally awesome...and we could sometimes travel and teach people around the world not only the benefits of STFUing, but HOW to STFU. Then we would have an a spin off show called Mind Yer Own, and that would  have people that are very good at keeping their noses out of other peoples' business. And again, we could take it on the road occasionally and spread the knowledge...oh my goodness people, we could break the cycle of rampant stupidity, we could change the WORLD!!!

  And if that didn't work, we'd just add booze...

Mostly I Stand Around Being Delightful...

  As I was standing around being delightful the other day, I realized that unless I really think about it (which I am not going to do), I don't really know how long it's been since I've had to work for a living. A year? Two? Ten? It doesn't matter, because I don't miss it. I especially don't miss having to sit in that one office...the one that no matter what type of candle I lit, or what I sprayed, or what kind of incense I brought, always smelled like <insert good smell here> and the whiskey shits. I still hate those hazelnut smelling candles from WalMart because they actually smell like maple syrup and therefore remind me of pancakes, which does not mix with the other smells in that office, but I digress...it happens.

  Not having to go to a place every day is pretty nice, whether you like said place or not. I can now do all the things I have always wanted to do. I can have a hella clean house. I can have all the stuff in my cabinets so organized that it's kind of weird. I have time to perfect the art of homemade laundry soap. I can take the dog to the river every day (I don't, but I can). The other day I finally scraped the butterflies off our Pepto-pink bedroom walls and finished painting them a nice shade of $7 "oops" paint. The Fam mostly has a healthy dinner every night. I am experimenting with crafty things (they may not turn out the way I planned, but hey, a free story!). I am on my way to becoming one of those "coupon people." Best of all, I actually like the people I follow around and clean up after now!!! Sometimes it frustrates the holy horse feathers out of me, but hey! 'Least I'm not smelling pooh all day, or having to listen to...never mind...

  Life is good...great, even. It hasn't always been though, especially the past few years. For those of you that don't know me, I had a bout of some pretty serious bad luck peppered with some really really dumb bullshit. The short version is this: I found out I had to have a hysterectomy and gave notice for the time off at my job...a month and a half, to be exact. As the time for the surgery got closer, my boss started seeming to want me to cancel my surgery. Why did I jump to this crazy conclusion? I think it was, "You're really putting us in a tight spot with this thing, <other boss> is going to have to cover for you and wont be able to do what he wants to do..." Me and my darn malfunctioning mute button said something to the effect that he could eat my shorts because I was getting my guts removed and went down to the office. It never was really the same after that day, because a couple of weeks after that I got a call dismissing me...when I was all healed, I could call them and they'd see what they could do about giving me some hours. Gee, thanks. Whatev.

  So I lost my 45 hour a week job, got the surgery, and came home a day earlier than I should have (cuz I'm badass like that...OK, it was the idea of the hospital bill but I was fine, the Percoset told me so). 5 days after the surgery, no, not 5 days after I got home, 5 days after the damned surgery my boyfriend (who did not live with me) came into my bedroom with a worried look and a piece of paper. The landlord was too much of a wimp to give me and my incisions the notice stating my lease wouldn't be renewed, so he had BF do it. No matter that I had just asked about that exact same thing a month prior and he said all was fine...what a douche, but whatev. We moved in the nick of time, I didn't lose my marbles, just quite a few of them, and we started recovering as a family. That lasted a year, then we moved here. There was some really stupid move out bullshit, I got accused of a bunch of dumb stuff, but we compromised and it's over.

  Which brings us back to here, now, which pretty much rules. And I deserve it, so there. And I like to bombard people with the opinions I have had so much time to aquire...and William Shattner rules and is on my TV right now...no wonder I am so freaking delightful!!!