And, by the way, my ass is NOT going to be doing the kind of maniacal editing I used to do on this blog. I just ain't. So get over it. I work professionally as a writer/editor/PR/marketing person and have to edit all. the. time. I have decided blogging is off time and, therefore, does not demand my rigorous editing. Just like farting and belching at home, I also can have poor grammar, misspellings and the sort. I figure that I know what I am capable of when I am "on" and when I am not "on," I probably am still better than 80% of most of the idiots out there who don't know the difference between there and their. Or your and you're. Or lose and loose. You get the picture, right?!?
Anyhoodle, I had to drive into the ATL today to go to a seminar and traffic which, as usual and with the added dose of drizzle, was like Hell on asphalt. About two stops from my exit, this young man whips in front of me, then across the lane beside me. As I cursed him not so silently, I noticed he was pulling to the side of the road with his hazards on. He jumped out, ran around the front of his vehicle, and started puking his guts out. Here are my next 6 seconds of thoughts:
- Serves the little bastard right for cutting me off.
- Ok, maybe I should cut him some slack since he is obviously sick and needed to puke and probably did not want to do so on himself.
- Hell, the little bastard is probably hungover from partying.
- Ok, maybe he has food poisoning.
- Or a nasty stomach virus.
- And, by God, isn't it embarrassing enough to be puking your little bastard guts out on the side of 400 in rush hour traffic.
Seems some recently neutered male dog was getting all jiggy with all the doggies, going around humping everyone. Well, Mr. Humpsalot, you picked the wrong bitch to hump. When Miss Mary told me the story, I was all like "Oh Hell to the no...is he alive?!?" See Rox don't take no guff. She is a scrapper. And, yep, she turned on Mr. Humpsalot and was like "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, compadre?" and let loose (or is that lose? or loses? hehe) and that? Well, that was the end of hump day for Mr. Humpsalot.
I may look sweet, but I will take you down! Knock, knock, motherfucker!
(that reference solely for JOTE in honor of her 20th wedding anniversary)
Well, that is all for today. It is time for bed and a little reading before sleep. Remember, balance, peeps, balance. With love and good wishes for you all, B.