They're Back in Town plus one

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This is Cheddar







He has Fleas and Pees blood.



He's staying with my Sister so that my youngest sister can have maintenance come by her apartment.

What's more is that he's not even my youngest sister's cat! He's crashing at her apartment while his owner (who is couch surfing with her baby) stays with friends who don't allow cats.


And even more retarded: My youngest sister also lives in a place that does not allow cats.



Cheddar used to stay in an apartment that allowed cats, but the people who lived there got fleas. So their cat and Cheddar both got smashed hard with flea treatments until they both started peeing blood.

Once both the cats started to pee blood, they decided to take their cat to the vet... and they told Cheddar to hit the road.



So now he lives with my youngest sister, who took him to the vet - but tonight - he's hiding out at my other sister's house, so maintenance doesn't find out about him.



Obviously when maintenance walks into my youngest sister's apartment, the house is going to stink so bad, he'll write her up for something.

Trust me, there are lots of different things that the maintenance guy is going to smell.

First of all, this guy- click here Whom, this weekend, my dad bailed out of jail.
On the grounds that he delete all the "other bitches," (who aren't my sister) out of his iphone (which my dad hooked up) and also cut his dreadlocks off (which he didn't cuz my sister told him not to.)


Then if not the cat stink that comes with a cat who pees blood, then the maintenance guy will definitely smell the odors of the...

Homeless people that are burning trash in the fire place!

(I shit you not, every word in that sentence is true.)



A 20 year old mooch, her 23 year old ex con "husband," and their 18 year old baby are now crashing on pillows in the living room while happily unemployed.

The baby was 7 months in gestation the last time they "lived," at my youngest sister's place. They ended up leaving town, after never paying rent and now they're back with the baby, who's surprisingly much heavier than we thought it'd be (because - you know... glug glug glug, puff puff puff).

And it's not like they're hard-case homeless people, who went feral on the streets and are instinctively burning trash for warmth, they're just sloppy, trashy fuckers who are too lazy to take trash to the dumpsters. But they fucking drink behind the dumpsters because Dreadlocks is in recovery and the house has rules.



Oh, and I guess that a drug free household only applies to certain drugs because they went ahead and used my youngest sister's kitchen to make Mushroom Fudge.



According to my sister, they didn't mince the shrooms at all, so it looks sorta like this.









I told my youngest sister the same thing I told her last time they moved into her apartment.

"You know they're not gonna pay rent, right?"

But she assured me that this time around, they were getting state benefits for having a baby, so they'd be able to kick down rent. So now they're welcome guests who can break BOTH the dishwasher (clogged with food) and the Washer (tilted from being too full) which is why maintenance is coming.


While maintenance is over, the "homeless" people have to stay with moochy's mom. (Whom they should be staying with anyway - but it's a pride thing - as evident by moochy's famous line "Fuck you mom, don't talk to me like that, I'm Pregnant! I'm a grown ass bitch now!")



Unfortunately, the benefits thing isn't working out. Who would have thought that when you leave Arizona, that Arizona would stop paying for your rent and your kid's daycare?

Not that they needed daycare. They didn't have fucking jobs! Seriously they just took their kid to daycare for 8 hours a day while they chilled at home and lamented over having a child.

From what I've heard, state subsidized daycare was the only parenting that this 18 month old was getting.



Seriously, these are (all of) his toys:




(hopefully they'll wash this after they end up needing to use it)




(I'm pretty sure they'll never "need" this)




(It's a rattle)

Tried to start something

I thought I'd make it my thing, where I'd go to bars and order a tall glass of milk.







It was supposed to be a subtle bad-ass move, Boy-Named-Sue style.

Most bars don't serve milk, and according to my bartender friend, "Only assholes would order milk."








I never considered that a bartender usually keeps the milk in the "big fridge," and to get to the milk, he has to abandon his post when he should be juggling the taps.










So I guess it makes sense that when I finally, successfully ordered a tall glass of milk, I got a scathing stare-down and the quip "You want a straw with that?"



It came out sorta warm, and sorta tasted like limes, which sorta means it was already going bad.







Then I got to take a shit in a bar.

I heard on the Radio

I heard on the radio that Kanye (Rhymes a word with the same word west) West claims that Beyonce's video for "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)," is the best video of all time; especially when compared to Taylor Swift's video.

I watched the two videos and I'd have to say he's wrong.

It's not even the best video-where-someone-sings-and-dances-during-the-whole-video-in-one-room-video of all time.

(the song sucks too) In fact, this was exactly the type of video that made me disenchanted with music videos when I was 10.

Before MTV, all you had was the pictures in your head. Some people were totally blown over by music videos because these short films (with stories) dictated - to the day dreamers - what to think, and promoted - for the mindless - to think about stuff when you heard the song.

At the very least, Taylor Swifts video was better because it made a song, which I dislike, bearable while I watched the story in the video.

Beyonce's video might as well be a stage performance. (one of the worst kinds of music videos.)


Beyonce's Video


Taylor Swift's Video

Sitting Places

There's an irony to how much sitting is involved in traveling.


Planes are fucking stupid.
I tend to avoid going to theatres because I can't smoke during the movie. Not being able to smoke on planes is something I can live with.

But I take it as a big Fuck-You when they tell me I can't smoke, every two minutes between check in and take off, and then make me stare at a picture of a fucking cigarette for 3 hours.






Sitting in bleachers is fucking stupid too.

If it's not the kid grinding his fidgeting knee into my leg,
the prospect of getting fucked by a total stranger when passing money and food between myself and a vendor,
or having to weigh the cost::benefit of pissing your pants vs. stepping on the hand of some mechanic's girlfriend,
then it's definitely the tobacco chewing, Midwestern homophobe singing to country music and bleacher dancing between my legs.

The Present

If I went back in time to the 50's and were to be asked "Are there flying cars in the future?"

I'd reply "No, we still can't seem to keep cars from crashing on the ground, so letting teenagers, alcoholics and the elderly take to the sky, is probably never going to be in the cards. But, in the future, the smartest scientific mind on earth... talks using a robot computer voice."

Thinking about baseball

My mom was telling me there was a small handful of shirts which she really liked at the store, but once she got them home, she decided she didn't like them.

So she decided to show them to my girlfriend, adding "Because... we're about the same size."

No!

NO!

God Damn it!

Baseball, baseball, baseball, baseball, base-ball, BassBowl, Base Ball, Baseball, Baseball, Baseball, BASEBALL!

Homefront Drama

Four or Five years ago, my mom let my teenage sister's boyfriend move in.

When he showed up to our house with a fat lip, the story was that his dad tried to beat the gay out of him.

Having a teenage romance under the roof isn't very conducive to -you know- the whole parenting thing, but my mom figured that by letting this soft spoken kid move in,

he might turn his grades around.

The kitchen gets messy, mom keeps re-stating the rules about sharing blankets, and the kid's dad pawns his electric guitar.

Then, not long into his stay, he goes camping with some girl who my sister hates,

and they end up making-out or whatever it is that teenagers do to cheat on each other.

See, my sister was so adamant to have this kid move in, that she spent long, long hours grinding the folks down to convince them it was best for this kid. She slowly won mom over until finally the step dad had no say.

The problem was, to get my mom to let the kid move in, my sister had to hustle this line about how it has nothing to do with her wanting her boyfriend to live at the house, it's that this kid has no safe place to stay.

So when my sister decided she wanted the kid kicked out for cheating on her, my mom was all like "But he has no safe place to stay."

HA!

For months, my sister bounced between getting back together with him, and ratting him out like some jealous step-sister.

I noticed that I was losing shit all the time - cigarettes and cash; here, a hollowed out book; there - until christmas rolled around and we realized this kid was a fucking thief. He stole our fucking christmas money.

And mom wanted to give the kid a super-family christmas, so she bought the kid an electric guitar. (His family wouldn't let him come over on holidays because he allegedly stole $1200 from his grandma)

My mom, not wanting to shatter the image of a perfect christmas, infuriated my other sister by turning a blind eye. There was further outrage after Mom affirmed that we had violated this kid's civil rights by searching his belongings and seizing this impressively, massive bag of grass which coincidentally weighed-out to a dollar amount somewhat similar to that of the stolen fucking christmas money.

So after my other sister paraded around the chirstmas tree with a huge bag of weed, mom created a penalty best described as a mild inquisition. He admitted to owning the bag of weed that was in his backpack and cost as much as the stolen christmas money, but he denied steeling the christmas money.

Case closed.

(Kid gets his weed back)

My other sister punches my sister in the face.

It was an epic christmas.

And this is what that fucking kid got me from the dollar store.

This kid's ascent into his twenties was fit for a thief. The type of thief who would get busted trying to steal the TV from the cabana of his dad's apartment complex.

Luckily, when you're white, you might be able to trick a judge into believing that you are more parts Junkie than parts thief and then Poof! The hardships of being raped in prison are suddenly turned into the mere inconvenience of getting your girlfriend to piss into condoms so you can pass your bi-weekly drug tests.

Seemingly out of the fucking blue, my sister started visiting this kid while he was in county. Completely omitting from her past the stolen christmas money, a $300 burn from her stolen debit card, a screen shot of a forged $5K check which the kid had to delete from his myspace comments, chuckles over seeing him holding a cardboard sign on a downtown street corner, rumors of some really down low shit he did to get heroin, (etc. etc.) she goes out and signs a one bedroom lease that's twice her monthly income and she lets the kid move in.

So now I'm sifting through his myspace pics, and -oh look - here's one of his skid row cronies who just might be strong enough to carry my Flat Screen to the bus stop.