Wednesday, December 31, 2008

chivalry may not be dead

Jill came to BFE last night for a little sushi & shopping. My boyfriend, Sam, came along for the ride. When I say shopping, I mean going to the local Wal-Mart for impulse buying contact solution. (I ended up with congestion medicine, deodorant and vicks along with my contact solution. Jill ended up with a coffee maker and headphones).

We were minding our own business looking at socks & waiting for Sam to finish reading some car magazine when we were approached by two rednecks (and I do mean rednecks. One guy had on some sweet camo boots with the laces tied extra tight (what is that all about anyway?) and the other guy had a do rag on. Not sure if either had teeth). The looked similar to this and I'm not even kidding:

Well Sam notices these guys approach us and comes over. Boots (who I'm guessing is about 17, but it's hard to tell) stands all up in Jill's personal bubble and points to Sam and says "You dating him?" Her response, "No, she is. I'm single." (Hindsight is 20/20 and she should have lied and said Sam is similar to Hef & takes on multiple girlfriends). When he hears that she is single his call to action "Wanna spend the night together?"

My response... "What the fuck?" Sam's response "Seriously? Go the fuck on." Jill's response could only be described as blank stare. Did this trash honestly think that he could go for her class? Maybe if she was blind and drunk. And lost her sense of smell. And hearing. So... pretty much never.

Well, his boots were obviously made for walkin' because that's just what he do. But, while walking away he shoots Sam a bad look. Not good. Ever. His Mama taught him right, it is never acceptable to disrespect a woman. Especially not one of his good friends.

So Sam tells him to go the fuck away, you have no respect for women, i'd kick your ass but you're clearly underage, yada yada yada. I can't remember exactly what was said because I couldn't wipe the look of shock of my face and ol' Jill was still blank with confusion.

Well, Boots goes to the check out line where we are unfortunately headed. Boots starts talking smack and Sam was all "BRING IT ON. " I'm thinking "Um, honey, in case you forgot, you busted your knee playing football. You know, the knee you can't put any pressure on. The one that is not only black and blue but purple, green & brown as well?" Well. This is going to be interesting.

Do Rag decides he needs to do his part in this and comes up to Sam. He's all "Yo man, what's going on?" Well, Sam gets pissed. "You know what is going on. You need to tell your little buddy that it is NEVER acceptable to come up to a woman and say that." There is banter back and forth. This could get ugly. Sam will fight over a woman's respect any day.

The entire 20 items or Less lane is starting at us. Then I see that I know EVERYONE in the line (common occurrence in BFE) and notice one in particular. Sam's neighbor, The Cop. I tell The Cop what is going on and he controls Sam, who now has steam coming out of his ears like on cartoons.. The Cop's exact words "If there is one thing I learned from working on this force is you don't mess with those people. They're 'tards man. Just plain ol' 'tards and not worth your time." Right in front of Do Rag & Boots. I'm not sure why, but BF actually listened.

The entire ride home, BF said nothing. Jill & I chatted the entire way home, as normal. He was quiet the rest of the night, just brooding over the comment.

Stay classy Wal-Mart & patrons, stay classy.


IDK, my BFF Rose?

Monday, December 29, 2008

Tag, You're IT!

Because there are two of us...we figured we'd split it!

Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person that tagged you. Lovely Bridget.
2. Post the rules on your blog. Now, that's a no-brainer!
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.

1. Jill- I have a panic attack whenever I see a real, live beaver, stuffed beaver, beaver cartoon or pretty much anything to do with the dam building animal. When I was a kid my Granny took me to the Imax theatre to see something, well what she wanted me to see wasn't showing, so she settled on a movie about beavers. They were huge on the Imax screen. The movie even said something about how beavers used to be the size of grizzly bears! I started having bad dreams about a flesh-eating beaver. He stood at least 2 stories tall and would take his buck teeth and gnaw a person in half! Occasionally I will still have this dream.

2. I am obsessed with George Washington. I love the man. If he were living today I would find a way to kill Martha Washington, just so he could be mine. Now, I realize that he is dead and by no means would I EVER dig up his body (some of my friends joke with me about how I should dig up his body)...this is all hypothetical...if he were living, I'd do him.

3. I play the bassoon. Sometimes I love it and sometimes I hate it. Currently, I'm indifferent. I've played for 12 years. People say I'm good. Those people obviously have never heard a "real" bassoonist play.

4. Rose- I keep my perfume in the car. I realize this is not something you are supposed to do (alters the smell or something) but I will forget each and every day if I don't keep it there. I wear a bunch of different perfumes... I like to switch it up depending on my mood. I currently has 4 in the cubby: Heavenly, LAMB, Ed Hardy & Curious. Today I chose Ed Hardy.

5. You could say I'm slightly obsessed with cupcakes. Not only are they adorable, but yummy too. I have cupcake everything. There is a bakery by work that I go to on lunch break sometimes. $3.00 for a cupcake, but totally worth it.

6. I have really curly hair. Like way curly. When I was in high school I had it chemically straightened.. Worse mistake ever. It fried off my baby hair by my face. I have a widow's peak & when the rest of my hair was in a pony tail, it would stick straight up. I mean straight up. No amount of gel or hairspray could get that shit to go down. It blew. Before that, I had an afro. I'm not kidding. I had short hair and it was just huge, like a mushroom. I still have nightmares about that hair cut, which is probably why my hair is super long now!

There will be a test on these non-important/habits/quirks about us...
Now, it's your turn!

cass-a-lass at Playing in the Woods
adlibby at Adlibby on the loose
Jenn at Living Life
That damn expat at That Damn Expat
Christina and Courtney at Sex and the Traveling Satchel

Friday, December 26, 2008

Amazing Grace

Here's a little update:
I went to my parents house as planned on Christmas Eve. I did end up staying at their house. My younger brother gave me his bed, just so I would stay. I have to admit, he can be a douche sometimes, but he has his moments when he can be an absolute sweetheart.
Christmas went over well. I got some much needed money and a few items that just made me happy. I have been obsessed with Philosophy's "Amazing Grace" ever since my mother started using it. So, for Christmas my mom got me a whole set including body wash, body spritz, body lotion and perfume. I got up this morning to take a shower, just to use my new stuff!!!

Anyway, I hope everyone had an enjoyable Christmas.

Have a great weekend!

IDK, my BFF Jill?

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Eggnog? Sounds like a plan!

This is the first Christmas where I haven't lived at my parents house. I went to college, but during Christmas I was right there with Mom and Dad living at their house. This year I live about 20 minutes away from them in an apartment that isn't decorated to the nines and just doesn't feel like home.

Every Christmas Eve my family (both sides) gets together for finger foods and then goes to the Christmas Eve service at my parents church. This plan still stands this year, except when I leave church I am not going to return with the rest of my family to the house. I will be on my way back to my lonely, un-Christmas apartment.
My roommate isn't even going to be there tonight. It's going to be me and the kitten.

This Christmas is also different in that, this is the first Christmas season that I haven't enjoyed. I am just ready for it all to be over and done with. The weather outside hasn't been frightful (except for the icy roads last night) and the fire hasn't been delightful (it hasn't been cold enough to have one). It's a whopping 50 degrees outside right now!! This would be considered Christmas weather if you were in say, Southern California, or perhaps Mexico. But Kentucky??? It could be April, I mean April showers do bring May flowers, and it is pouring outside.
***I apologize for all the cliche phrases in the paragraph above.***

I think I need to have an attitude adjustment. Maybe tonight while I'm at my apartment, I''ll drink massive amounts of egg nog, just to get myself in the spirit of Christmas.

Joy, Santa is going to be here at work in 5 minutes. Maybe I can go sit on his lap and request a big slap in the face...maybe it'll knock me all the way into next Christmas. Though I do have to say, having everyone's kids here at work kind of livens things up.

But for those of you getting into the holiday should probably go to It's great. Trust me...I made myself into the Baby Jesus yesterday, then I sat in fear thinking that lightning was going to strike me. I'm going to hell.

I will leave you with this.

Happy Holidays!


IDK, your BFF Jill?

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Would you like a cookie? Or perhaps a small parade...

Around 7pm last night, a friend/fuck buddy of mine called me, we'll call him F/FB. He told me that he was in town from Chiropractic school and that he wanted to hang out. Now, I haven't had a lay since early July...I didn't think anything would happen.

F/FB had been in a relationship up until about a month ago. I was the girl he came running to for advise on how to deal with the heartache of breaking up. I haven't ever been the relationship kind of girl. You could say I'm a commitment-phobic. Hence the reason I probably have such a big problem with that damn Beyonce song. Why the hell would he come to me for relationship advice other than he was now considering me a friend. Anyway, if he hadn't moved me into the friend category, I had moved him there. He was just a friend...without benefits.

So, we decide that he should come over to hang out. Well, he brings 3 of his friends along (one of which I have slept with). We sit around watching any Adult Swim cartoon we could find, drinking and smoking cigarettes. It was a good time.

Then F/FB falls asleep on the floor. Time flies by and it's 3am. Good God, I have to be at work at 7am! So much for that...Perks to having a job where as long as I work an 8 hour day I can come in anywhere between 7 and 9am. Needless to say, I was still in bed at 8am this morning!
All of F/FB friends decide they need to go home to bed, so they leave F/FB laying on the floor asleep.

Me being the nice person I can sometimes be, I wake F/FB up and tell him that if he wants to stay at my apartment I'll get him a blanket and pillow. He agrees this is a good idea. So, I'm laying in bed half asleep when I hear a knock on my bedroom door. F/FB walks in. He tells me that he's "had a bad dream."

So again, I decide that I'll be a nice person and tell him that he can share my bed with me. Great idea...Jill's gonna get some. Within 5 minutes we are "making out." Might I add, he's a great kisser and he's even better in bed... The rest of the story is probably not appropriate for the blog world, so I'll just say that F/FB has now moved back out of the friend category and into the fuck buddy category.

Yay me. I broke my 4 month hiatus!!! Be proud.

IDK, Your incredibly happy BFF Jill?

Monday, December 22, 2008

I Need a Personal Shopper

Why did I ever think it was a good idea to leave all my Christmas shopping until less than a week before the big day?

Saturday I get up at the crack of dawn to take my kitten, Gus, to the vet. The vet's office just happens to be in one of the biggest shopping centers in Big Town. Well, I get there (kitten in tow) and have to park a gazillion miles away from the f'n office. I mean, I was having to park in a parking lot across from the office, which might I add...I had to walk across a REALLY busy road. This wouldn't have been so bad if I wasn't having to dodge crazed, present-buying soccer moms in their mini-vans. Good God. I have never feared for my life as much as I did Saturday morning.

Anyway, like I was saying I left all of my Christmas shopping for this week. Needless to say, I wasn't going to be doing any shopping Saturday after my near run in with death. I decided it would be a good day to do absolutely nothing...except attend my apartment complex's Christmas Party, which had massive amounts of homemade egg nog (with bourbon and rum in it) available for me get plowed on...for free.

I wake up Sunday afternoon with a massive headache and an urge to lay in bed for the rest of the day. But no, the kitten is clawing at my face reminding me of the day prior...I decide it would be genius of me to go shopping online. Whatever happened to places guaranteeing that something will be delivered before Christmas? Bath and Body Works was going to charge me $20 shipping to get the damn gift on Christmas Eve (now it is like $10, much more affordable). Screw that. I went out shopping.

I got my mom some smell good stuff at Bath and Body Works...she loves it...I hate it. Anyway, this is what I got her.
So, you might ask...What did you get for your dad, brother, grandparents, aunt, cousins, friends? Well, the answer is as of right now not jack shit. I only made it to 3 stores. I just got so sick of people. Has anyone ever heard of the personal space concept???
I went off on an American Eagle sales associate. All I wanted to do was buy a giftcard for my brother. Well, this skinny, high school aged kid walks up to me and asks if she can help with anything. I simply said "I'm just here for a giftcard. Thanks." She then continued to say, while standing unbelievably close to me "Why don't you buy something for yourself while you are here?" I turned to her, already being frustrated for standing in line for so long and said "Does it look like I can fit into any of American Eagle's clothes?" Now, I am a large girl...but not that big. I fit into American Eagle clothes, so I might have told a white lie. So what? She was standing WAY too close to me. I could feel her warm breath with every word she spoke. It skeeved me out. What was I supposed to do?
Anyway, I'm sure dad will be happy with a Lowe's giftcard, and brother will be happy with just about anything I get him (though he hasn't even opened the dartboard I got him last year). Maybe I'll get a notion to go shopping again tonight.
Doubt it.
If you have any gift ideas for brothers or dads...let me know!
I'll be one of those angry, on a mission shoppers Christmas Eve just hoping that the stores haven't sold all of the good gifts.
I told you I was a procrastinator.
IDK, Your (insert angry adjective here) Jill?

Let There be Sight

For me, going to the eye doctor is up there with going to the gyno. I despise it. In fact, I despise it so much I haven't gone in about 4 years. I used the last of my contacts last year and never went back, just relied on my glasses. I've been having a hard time seeing lately, so I knew it was time to go. I packed my Mom up for moral support on Saturday and off we went to LensCrafters.

I signed up for their next available eye appointment, which was about a 10 minute wait. The first thing the did was the eye puff of air test. For me, this is the second worst thing they do (barely behind the blue light that touches your eye that you aren't supposed to feel. I swear, I feel it). I warned the assistant that I was very bad at this test and was sure to fail. I put by chin in that little holder and try my damndest to keep my eye open. PUFF. Damn, I closed my eye. He tries again. I squint my eye. Again, fail. On the fourth try I hold open my eye with my fingers. "One, Two, Three." Puff. Why the fuck did he count? I closed my eyes as soon as I heard the number 3.

My mom is sitting there saying, "Good job, Rose. You're almost done. Try sitting on your hands so you can't move. Do you want me to hold your head so you can't jerk back?" Wow, I really do feel like a toddler. After countless tries, he finally gets one eye, then multiple tries later the second eye.

He takes me into the exam room and wants to put drops in my eye. Um, no thank you. I can't do the air test, how the hell am I supposed to let this stranger burn my eyes with drops? I asked him if I could close my eyes, he could put the drops on and let me blink them in. He just looked at me like I was crazy, but did it anyway. My mom is still all, "It's almost done, sweetie."

Before the assistant leaves the room, he turns on the lights. Wow, genius, that's exactly what I want while my eyes are dilated. Bright lights from above. What an ass. I just whipped out my vintage Ray Bans and put 'em on. My mom told me I looked like Stevie Wonder (or was it Ray Charles? Or Both?) because I was temporarily blind and had glasses on. This of course made me do my piano impression while looking around all crazy like.

Well, I'm sitting there, eyes blinded by the burn and dilation, there is a knock on the door. In walks young male vision specialist, otherwise known as Dr. SexyEyes. He introduces himself and I immediately place his voice, Matthew McConaughey (or however it's spelled). Oh, I have a doing my vision test, JAM! I'm squinting trying to see what he looks like, because according to his voice he is a hunk. However, the only thing I can see is this:

Well, I’m just sitting there attempting to read this letter business. He picks up on my sarcasm, good man. When I tell him “No Shot” when asked to read the letters, he changed told me to switch eyes and said “Still, no dice?” Hello, Dr. SexyEyes. Nice voice, sarcasm… are you hot too? Please say yes. Then he puts me behind this little number:

...and what do I see???
None other but a very beautiful mix of these very beautiful men:



A mixture of Matthew, Beckham & McSteamy? Oh, sweet Jesus, Mary & Joseph. Thank you Lord for making my vision so awful and for me not getting vision insurance so I had to come here. Who cares that my vision is officially worse than my mother, he had to double my prescription, asked if bifocals had ever been brought up to me before, all that matters is that I have a hunk for an eye doctor.

And most importantly, thank you for the fact that I have to go back again Saturday to check my contacts. At least this time I won’t be dialated.


IDK, My BFF Rose?

Friday, December 19, 2008

I now present FUF

After reading Christina & Courtney's idea for theme post days; we came up with our own.

We now present to you: Tales of FUF (or Fucked Up Fridays). We came up with the name back in the good ol' days of college. Every Friday when Jill & I would get off work we would go crazy (Not that we didn't every other night of the week, Friday was just the craziest night of the week). We caught onto our trend of binge partying and decided to start calling our favorite day of the week "Fucked Up Friday" or FUF when we were around others

Sit back, relax and have a drink (or as with FUF tradition, 10) while I share a story of the worst night of my life.

It was my junior year in college. After each semester, there would be a blow out DRUNKFEST party at a local bar. I wasn't 21 yet, but they did let minors in. This called for pre-gaming. Lots and lots of pre-gaming. I decided an early dinner of drinks only would be a good place to start. I knew several waiters around town so this wasn't a problem. I had decided I would have a tequila night (What the fuck was I thinking?). I started off with SEVERAL tequila sunrises. Not so bad. We got back to our dorm room and I mixed a margarita. I was nice and toasted by this point. Good call (or so I thought) since I wouldn't be able to drink at the bar

Well, fast forward to the bar. My Big in the sorority somehow managed to get me the sacred 21 & up bracelet. (I had put lotion on my hands before they gave the X of death so it could quickly be wiped away).

So I drank. A lot. Of shots (I'd say at least 10). I was guzzling drinks like it was my 21st birthday. I was mixing liquors. I didn't care what I had to drink. I was doing shots of Washington Apple (which I thought was called a Werthington Apple), Tequila, Whiskey. You have a shot called "Fucked Up?" GIVE IT TO ME NOW! You name it, I consumed it. You know what comes next.... I staggered to the bathroom and let the liquid contents of my tum go. I guess I was ready for a puking rally that night, because one I left that bathroom, I was ready for round 10 through 20 of shots.

I don't remember much after that, so this is all from the mouth of Jill. My friend, we'll call her M, had to carry me out of the bar at approximately 12-1 am. I puked on her leg and when I pointed it out (um, in case she missed the heaving sound and liquid seeping through her jeans) she casually said "they're your jeans, it doesn't matter." They ended up in my laundry. I just threw them away.

Well, Jill gets me into the bathroom in our dorm so I could continue the rally. I asked for a bottle of water and she returned with one and as soon as I took a sip, it sprayed out of my mouth. I had filled up an empty bottle of water with rum. Not what you want to have in the middle of a rally.

I do remember this. I looked at Jill and said "I can't see. I need my glasses." Jill was all "You don't need your glasses,you moron. You're just plowed." And I was all, "No way. I'm BLIND!" Well, she gave me my glasses. I put them on and realized I still couldn't see, got pissed & threw them against the wall. Shattered. That was fun explaining to Mom & Dad.

That was the first & last time tequila has ever been in my body.

IDK, my BFF Rose?

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Am I a Hopeless Romantic?

Have women today really gotten to the point where all they want to do is "seal the deal with a shiny ring"?

I'm sitting at my apartment, reading Rolling Stone having a GREAT snow day (I'm trying to make the most of it, since "grown-ups" rarely get a good snow day) when I turn the page and see Beyonce. I became interested because I thought Beyonce was a great role model for younger girls, that was until she decided to start singing about "If I were a boy" and all that crap. So, I start reading this article which happens to be about the Singles of the Year, music singles...not single people. Anyway, the #1 single of 2008 is "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)" by Beyonce. REALLY?!?!?!?!

I became angry, my roomate (who is also at home enjoying a snow day) got a bit frightened when I walked over to the fireplace and threw the entire magazine in the fire. She began to wonder why I had gotten soooo pissed over a damn magazine.

I began on a rant, somehow I remembered verbatim what the magazine had said..."her lesson is blunt: Seal the deal. With a shiny ring. Or else." WHOA.

Is that what women have come to? Are they all just concerned with getting some shiny ring on their finger? I know that I could care less about a f'n ring on my finger, and I think my BFF Rose would agree... I would like to think that most women are not just concerned about getting married, I would like to think that they are concerned with finding the one person who makes them swoon, the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. Then they can decide about the marriage thing. Maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic.

Beyonce used to be cool, singing angry woman music about how guys needed to pay their own bills and not mooch. And what about that independant women...maybe Beyonce just gave in to the whims of Destiny's Child. Those were the good days.

Beyonce, you have gone down the shitter.

WTF Mate, Your BFF, Jill

Monday, December 15, 2008

Facebook- It ruins my life daily. I continually feel the need to look at it just to check up on people, even if I don't like them at all. I need it, just like coffee & cigarettes.

This morning I logged in and was tagged in a note. It was a list of ten phrases with ten people tagged. The point of the blog is to figure out which phrase is about you. Mine was a no-brainer:

"You bring the perfect combination of anger and innappropriateness to any situation..."

I'll take this as a compliment, thank you!

IDK, my BFF Rose?

Friday, December 12, 2008


Quite a while ago I was evesdropping overheard a woman talking about Ashley Madison. Now I quite enjoy a little gossip, so obviously my ears perked up a tad. This lady went on to speak of Ashley Madison, who in fact is not a person at all, but a website. Apparently, this website was made for the sole purpose to find someone to cheat on your significant other / spouse with. Really? What the feck..

Fast forward to the night before my birthday. As normal, Jill came over to celebrate. We were hanging out: smoking cigarettes, checking our myspace and/or facebook and drinking adult beverages. While looking at my adult beverage, it dawned on me; I had forgotten to tell Jill about this new mysterious adult website I had heard of!

I quickly filled her in on what I knew:
1. There was a website which is only there to help you find a way to cheat.
2. I wanted to see if there was any one we knew on there
3. We needed to check it out immediately
4. I had totally forgotten the website's name. Bust. No Dice.

So we did a little research (by looking up cheating websites) and viola!
Of course, it's private. Why wouldn't it be? Shot Down. Then the best idea Jill ever had, "Let's just make up a name." Well that involved a little more then just making up a name. That included a false email address because no way our real email was going to become attached to this site. The name just came to me in an instant, "Married2Mingle." Straight to the point, I like it. No, actually, I LOVE it.

We sign in as Married2Mingle and made up a profile, complete with a picture of "brunette bride" (Hey, if we're making a profile, we may as well go all the way!). The profile was obviously all about sex: what you're into, what you're looking for, etc. We went all the way, I'll spare you of the raunchy, and I do mean raunchy, details.

*PING* "Jill, what the feck was that?" Jill looked around the website and hot damn! We had a message. From a man. Who wanted to chat with us (or rather with Married2Mingle). Well, why the hell not.

I don't recall this man's name, so we'll just call him Johnny. Johnny started telling us how interested he would be in meeting us for "casual sex." Well, Johnny, that's a negative from Rose & Jill, but Married2Mingle? She's up for anything. We go on telling this guy that our child is asleep, the husband works second shift, we live behind the local watering hole, etc. He is persistent and tells us he would like to meet at the wal-mart that is across from our made up residence. (We kept stressing about the sleeping baby but Johnny was pretty adamant to meet Married). We tell him to meet us in the wal-mart parking lot at 2am and we'll be in the black Jetta. He'll be in the champagne Lexus SUV.

He apparently couldn't text us anymore because he was out of coins or something (pretty much, you pay to chat with people.) Which, by the way, if people pay to instant message us, does that make us prostitutes? I don't think so because technically he was talking to Married2Mingle, not Jill & Rose.

Jill & I have a debate over if we should go. Since, obviously, he'd never know it was us. Eh, why the hell not? Let's see if this fool actually drives 45 minutes for casual sex. We pull into Wal-Mart and low and behold, what do we see? A black Jetta. No fecking way. Who is next to the Jetta, but THE CHAMPAGNE SUV. Holy shit, batman, Johnny showed! When he realized that the driver of the car was not Married2Mingle, off he went driving around looking for her! He was zipping in and out of the parking lot. Johnny was serious. Jill & I decided it would be best to watch from a gas station parking lot. We see this creepster drive around for several minutes and next thing we know, he's going towards the neighborhood in we said we lived in! Wtf, crazy stalker? When we see him go back to Wal-mart, we decided it was time to head home. He would just continue to drive all night looking for Married

The whole thing made me feel quite uneasy. At first it was funny, then dirty. I didn't suspect that people would actually meet. I figured it would be people like us, just getting a good kick out of it. But this leads us to the big Q: who is Ashley Madison & why does she want other's to cheat??
P.S. The next morning we signed on the AM & Johnny had written a note: "Sorry we missed each other. I'd love to try again some time." No. Absolutely fucking not.


IDK, my BFF Rose?

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Pirates?!?! You've GOT to be kidding me!

This is the mental image I get when the term "Pirate" comes up. I think of how Pirates hijack/live on big, wooden ships that have the "Jolly Roger" flying overhead and how they love women, booze, shiny objects and money just like me (not the women, but the booze, shiny objects and money).

It may just be me, but when I think of Pirates, Somali people just don't come to mind. However, the Somali Pirates are the only Pirates these days that people are talking about.

These Somali Pirates don't have the characteristics of any Pirates I know. You caught me, I don't really know any Pirates, but I sure have seen a bunch of them on TV and in movies. These are the only Pirates worth worrying about.

So, Pirates are supposed to hijack and live on big wooden ships with the "Jolly Roger" flying above. These Somali Pirates, they seem to choose big freighters that look like a metal box floating in water. Really? They could have at least chosen a pretty ship to hijack. As you can see to the right...These Somali Pirates most definitely are NOT on pretty Pirate ships. They choose to ride in what looks almost like a life raft! I bet the Titanic would have loved to have several of those bad boys when it was going down. AND- They are hijacking a metal box, come on.

Now, I have to give it to the Somali Pirates. Over the past year they have been paid an estimated $150 million in ransoms. Congratulations, choosing the ugly ships instead of the pretty ones paid off...I know there is a life lesson in there somewhere, but I just can't pull it out.

Aren't Pirates supposed to fight and defend themselves with swords (and the occasional hook)? These Pirates have AK-47s, rocket launchers and grenades. Whoa there...they have crazy weaponry, but they are riding in crappy boats. What the feck? I don't know about you, but it looks to me as if the guy on the left is holding a bassoon and the guy next to him is holding a large stick. Notice that the fourth guy looks like he is holding a seashell up to his ear.

I don't know about you, but I don't think that I can call these guys Pirates. To be a Pirate is more than just hijacking ships and stealing money...It's a lifestyle.

IDK, my BFF Jill?

P.S. So, I got really into researching these "Pirates"...I then found this and had a quick chuckle.
It was quoted on CBS' The Morning Show that one of the "Pirates" said hijacking a cargo ship was "extraordinarily easy." Whichever of the Somali Pirates said that should know that being a REAL Pirate is no easy task, just ask Hook...he lost his hand to a ticking crocodile!

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

The Ballad of Rose & Jill

The story of Jill & Rose began in early spring 2004. Jill & Rose were in their second semester of their freshman year at Liberal Arts College, KY. Rose was taking an art appreciation class and had to write a paper about an art exhibit that was mandatory for class completion. Of course, being the slacker that she is, Rose never went. She was too busy drinking studying to make it. The night before said paper was due, Rose began to panic. Then a little birdie told her that there was a girl named Jill who was very involved with the art department who might be able to assist her. Rose went to Jill’s room as nervous as a girl whose about to lose her virginity. She knocked on the door and when Jill answered she just blurted out “A little birdie told me you would give me a synopsis of the art exhibit for my paper!” Jill agreed, but only because she felt Rose was a kindred spirit, as Jill was a boozer procrastinator herself. Thus, the Ballad of Jill & Rose began. The two became inseparable at that moment

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