Fecal Matters and Shit Happens!

“Honey, did you just get done in the bathroom?”
Half ass response:
No, why?  Is there something wrong?
“Oh, no, just smells like the bottom of my dead grandfather’s foot in there.  Maybe one of the cats are sick?”
What did I get out of that exchange?
My previous partner did not shit!  Not once in our 6 years of warranted marital miscue.
“Honey, have you been to the bathroom this morning?  Or, anytime within the last 24 hours?”
Full tilt asshole response:
No, why?  Are you saying, my shit stinks?  I shit roses compared to the shit you’ve put me through!
Thoughts on exchange number two?
After almost 12 years of living on a carnival ride of misfit union; my soon to be ex did indeed shit…she just shit roses and butterflies and rainbows!
Laid up for approximately, 13 days, 5 hours, 23 minutes and 2 seconds, I’ve had nothing but full metal constipation on my hands.
What happens when you mix the stomach flu with prescribed pain relievers?  Not a whole hell of a lot.
Fecal matters and shit happens.  Let’s face it.  The subject carries more of an X rating then Rosanne Barr in a thong.
Like most I enjoy immensely…a good healthy bowel movement.  Yet, it is don’t ask, don’t tell territory.
“What’s wrong with Ruth?”
Oh, nothing that a an enema, a lobotomy and a healthy kick in the ass wouldn’t fix..my now loving and honest shitter partner would say.
Therefore, a list must surface from the last honest pleasure seeker in pooping, namely myself!
What is truly gross about ourselves?
No Shit!
No Shit!
1. Much as a bowel movement moves us spiritually, physically and financially.  We despise the fact we have to shit.  As a nation, we must come out of the shithouse doorway with smiles and accolades for ourselves.
Little side note:
Much as we are closeted about our toileting habits.  We love to turn around and look down.  We take pleasure in viewing just how much we have accomplished after one giant cup of coffee, a morning read and a cigarette.
2. Hair!  Here, there, everywhere a hair.  While posing for the new life like image of the famous ‘Thinker’ I had nothing but swirls of free spirited strange obsessive ideas in my cozy made for one bathroom.
My hair freaks me out.  It’s sticks to the walls by one lone strand, it adheres to the drain in the shower with the strength of ten butch women holding on to a feminine lesbian in work boots.
3. Spit!  Spit on the sink walls.  Behind the toilet seat.  On the prescription bottle of Ativan taken for O.C.D.  Spit in an array of colors.  Red from the disgusting XX Cinnamon flavored Close Up the spouse likes to buy and I choose to not argue about.  Blue from the dislodged Tylenol PM pill that landed in the water dish left out for the cats.  Yellow?  Where the fuck did the yellow come from?
4. Dust spiders and sock lint on the towels and ceiling.  A human being produces approximately enough lint and dust to fill Fenway Park over the course of their lifetime.
5. Toenail clippings not removed from the toe nail removal device.  Better yet, toe nail clippings that have fallen from said device and now lay in the confines of the vanity.  Mating and producing more clippings.
We are a disgusting lot.  I get it.  Why talk about it?
My grandmother Ruth once told me a very good piece of advice:
Eat an apple sometime while you’re having sex.  You’ll enjoy the experience much more than usually and than you can count on a good shit in the morning.  And, a good morning shit leads to a happy and healthy life!
Been hit with the F.I.S.H. stick?
Been hit with the F.I.S.H. stick?
Until next time, have a happy and productive visit to the most important room in the house!

Federal Emergency Manic Agents

Are people basically good?
Are people basically good?
English: AmeriCorps logo
English: AmeriCorps logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Diane Arbus Photography
Diane Arbus Photography (Photo credit: thefoxling)

Check list for any reader looking to volunteer with AmeriCorps, FEMA or VISTA.
Not applicable if you are looking to enlist with the Armed Forces, Peace Corp or McDonalds!

1. Be an avid fan of porn
2. Have several mistaken and misguided sexual romps with men and women; make sure not to use protection.
3. Have to have been approached by at least one law enforcement agency about public nudity and PDS: public display of sex!
4. Connected with at least one family member, in a manner to which is not considered ‘normal’. Unusual thoughts of seeing them naked, mother/daughter incest and/or strange attachment after adulthood has started; mother buys your clothes/father does your bills.
5. Have an on going addiction to Oxy and/or other substance not deemed ‘appropriate’ in large quantities.
6. Change name several times in hopes of leaving past behind.
7. Work under the table via Craigslist. NH/Nude Model for Hire.
8.Belong to the idea that work was made for sleeping through and watching trailers of Pocahontas.
9. Cut, gash, slice and self mutilate in areas of your body just noticeable for someone to feel bad for you.
10. Cry yourself to sleep every night.

That is about it. I’m sure there are many other qualities that above mentioned agencies are looking for. Certainly, the proud the few the sedated are urged to apply.
Post Script-
Always a plus to be on several psychotropic sedating medications at the same time.

Too Sexy…Not!

Heap big woman you done made a big man of me!


Sexy is a state of mind…And, so I’ve been lead this idea:
Ambien, as a woman, there should be people in which you would like to aspire to be. And, hopefully, those people are women as well.
It never hurts to promote and admire strong women. I am one and you should devote yourself to being one, as well.
Confidence, comfort and wisdom are very very sexy.


If and when I find my ‘voice’ will I define sexy? I don’t feel very sexy right now…I just feel BIG!
Dating was never hit or miss with me, I am the homely girl but I did go home with people worse off than me. All accept one…And, I’m still paying the price for it.
How to be really unappealing to a very appealing and confident woman?
Every time we’re together and a song comes on you always talk about how sexy that woman is “her voice is sexy” “her arms are sexy” or sitting on the back of your truck I have to hear how important this woman is to that cause or this generation.
I don’t have sexy arms or anything really to me the makes me whole, that defines me, I won’t make any difference in the world…wah, wah, wah…
I understandably will never be the irresistible person who changes with the shades of the sun by being in someone’s light or convinces a room that time should stop.
No, matter, I’m drowning my blues in food and clonazepam so I don’t think about it, the sexy confident woman I will never be.
Many big girls with swollen and down trodden looks realize they don’t have that charisma…
Alas, than, we do not know to…
Always say a line from a song that your partner loves. Hold firm to the fact that you should get to know their taste in music so they feel you want them. Attempt to find a song that says what you can’t find the words to say. Smirk instead of smile. Pretend you’re hiding something very deep inside you…though, you have no depth at all. Be witty, pretty and wise…
Nope, ain’t happening!
Large and in charge, fat bottomed girls do not fathom such preciously smart and romantic thoughts as… I want to always whisper ‘Love You’ into everyday…for I will never know when my last moments with you will be…


We only know when meals are served and that beauty is just a light switch away!

Left alone with big fat Fanny,
She was such a naughty nanny!
Hey big woman you made a bad boy out of me!


A White Women’s Rhythm

Ignorance is Strength
living is easy with eyes closed
The American cover for ''The Book of General I...
The American cover for ”The Book of General Ignorance (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Seems everyone is doing something but me.  I try to get myself out of bed this morning and the weight of my unhappiness made my girth shift from one end of the uneven bed to the other but the motivation just wasn’t there!

It wasn’t there when I attempted to change my bra from being two days old and still on to brand new, at least, to me and semi fresh lying miserably in a heap in the corner of the attic.

The voices haunted my dreams, Ambien, Ambien, wake up and think!  Ambien put two and two together for once.

What an eerie voice!  It is a cross between my Mum and Bella from the Twilight series.  Starring up at the ceiling, stilled weighed down by my now definitely out of shape and over nourished breasts; I had no idea about what I needed to think about.  WTF?  Who is this voice and is there a medication I can take for it?

Rolling over like a pig in slop I happened to see an official document lying next to my McDouble wrapper.  It had been something I needed to sign for AmeriCorps.  Volunteering to be an adult had been Mother Theresa’s idea but it would have at least got my fat ass out of Concord.

Then it hit me.  That message.  Where is that message?  I know I have it somewhere.

Ah, there it is!

To whom it may concern:

….She does have some severe mental impairments that I believe volunteering such a distance away and not taking her medications, wish she will not because she doesn’t want to get turned down for…will only add to her depression…

Blah, blah, blah, blah..

How could I have thought that was just a joke?  After all the sex I offered up.  After the heart pumping interrogations by both the Canterbury Police and NH Fish and Game about what two women would be doing half dress in the woods, after all that, I still dropped the ball.

I dropped the ball literally before.  Having been a second string player in love and tennis, I challenged Kate to a game of basketball.  If she wins, she could fuck me.   If I win I’d let her fuck me even harder.

I loss.  Tried to look smooth and polished when I just looked like Chas Bono post-surgery with a bad sense of rhythm.

.  Worse yet, I ran into a metal pole showing off my adoption of white bread coordination.  Proving there is no style in Ambien Grace.

Shit, fuck, shit!  I need to text someone.  Zoey, that’s who, she’ll help fuel my ignorance with her ignorance and then we can be bounded in, you guessed it, Double Mint ignorance!

Kate had this planned out from the beginning and all the way up to the ‘not done with you yet’, end.  How could anyone know what my choices would be?  How could she have guessed that I would never admit to being lesbian?

And, most importantly, my blank slate?  How does someone with a tailored fit education not manage to lose the bad pair of genes they had been born with?