Some people claim that Cobb county was named for Thomis Willis Cobb who was a Congressman and a Senator from Georgia. And…it is fact that the city of Marietta was named for his wife, Mary Moore Cobb. But, according to long time Georgian, retired law professor and functioning alcoholic Patrick Toomey, “Marietta hasn’t always been like this, they used to care about women.” Since the citiy’s fathers named the city FOR a woman, one would think that it might become customary for police to go out of their way to protect women. According to Toomey, it was that way a long, long, long time ago. But today when people wonder about the county’s moniker, they think of the phrase Count On Being Busted. Especially once the local cops get a hard on for you.

I still haven’t forgotten the assault after which I notified the Marietta Police Department that I had been drugged and beaten and yet the best they could charge the nimrod with was domestic violence and THAT only after I was threatened with arrest by the first officer with whom I spoke. Once again, because I AM a woman. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have done that to a man who had been beaten by HIS friends. I’m not sure what the charge WOULD be…but unless Elton John and Doogie Houser took part in a serious rumble…I really don’t think the cops would have used that limp excuse to arrest, fingerprint and mug shoot anyone.

Since it’s becoming a daily occurrence for a cop to stare into my front window or bang that special cop bang on my door, I’m figuring this crap out. Add to that the 3 cops with whom I tried to speak regarding the assault and I’ve picked up on a few things that my local protectors and servers do routinely…sort of their modus operandi if you will. Now, you MAY think that you wouldn’t ever require this information but trust me, I thought the very same thing for close to 50 years. So, just in case, here are a few tricks of the trade that cops seem to use. Perhaps they’re only practiced by local cops here in my neck of the woods. But I have an inkling that the problem is more widespread although I DO have fond memories of Officer Friendly visiting my classes as I was growing up. And, I’ve lived in 6 states.

1. They lie. I don’t know how else to state that, I’m trying to be very economical with my verbiage.

2. They take people to jail without a shower, a bite to eat or a last smoke so if they come to your house, try your best to do all of those things before you open the door.

3. They lie.

4. They seem to believe the first story they hear so try to speak to them FIRST. I never do because I’m usually at home minding my own business when they decide to get together and head on over.

5. They lie.

6. They surround your house before they ever knock so don’t answer the door they knock on, answer whichever door is farthest away from where you’ve been doing bong hits…I promise…there will be a cop waiting to greet you.

7. They lie.

8. They stare into your windows with cupped hands over their eyes. Try to be clothed whenever possible and go buy a shitload of mini-blinds.

9. They lie. How ODD.

10. For some strange reason, the only time they WON’T come into your house is when you ask them to.

For most of my life, I’ve spent no more time with the police than it takes to fill out a speeding ticket or purchase a donut. But, I’m catching on. If I were the cops, I wouldn’t behave so predictably. And I’d probably do away with the instinctive urge to defend other cops instead of chatting with a crime victim or getting the name of a witness. The constant excuse-making gets boorish after a while.

Oh…I forgot to list this one…they WILL, at some point ask you, “What do YOU want us to do?” or “How do YOU want us to handle this?” so get ready to answer that stupid question quickly. If you aren’t a cop, you’ll probably stutter when asked and that gives the PROFESSIONALS time to get away without doing ANYTHING. Smart…isn’t it? They get out of paperwork AND make you feel like an ass.

I know that I’m smack dab in the middle of the Bible Belt and I realize that I’m in the most conservative county in the entire United States…but I’m white! What the heck is going on here?

If you know me at all, you know how much I am adored by my local police department. Like my idiot ex Mark Colletti, they just can’t seem to leave me alone. You would almost think that they would have something better to do with their time than “visit” a grandmother 3 times in 36 hours, but apparently you’d be wrong.

Today I decided to document the uninvited visits of the Marietta Police Department. You know, if I’m right, they won’t be happy until they arrest me or investigate my death. So, in the hopes that this record will help me, even if it’s post-mortem, I present to you Meg and the Marietta Foot Men who became ever so much more pleasant once I turned on the video camera.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvkFsTrX1cw

You know how cops are so much more responsive to young girls than they are to middle aged women? I remember that from when I was a young girl. Well, you just witnessed a perfect example of testosterone induced cops making excuses for a lying bitch who was OBVIOUSLY lying to them and being stupid little pricks to a grandmother who was at home, sober and minding her own business.

The lying 19 year old told them that she was told by other cops that she had to mail me her keys with a receipt proving that she mailed them back to me. Can you believe they would have fallen for that? I’ve heard of registered letters, but not registered keys. With the luck I have, my death will be investigated by these 2 geniuses.

Perhaps a little history is called for here. After I blogged about a past encounter with the Marietta Police Department back in February of 2007, the sudden and consistent interest in me began. The first incident occurred on an early Sunday morning before I was out of bed. My aunt had recently gone missing and the disinterested Georgia police still haven’t figured out what happened to her (Mary Mergel-nee Broderick). There is no legal death so my father was appointed to care for his sister’s finances until her body is found. He lives in Tampa and he wanted me to make frequent trips to Chatsworth Georgia (quite a drive) so he left my aunt’s SUV with me.

My son came into my room that morning and woke me up, telling me that the police were at the door. Their story went something along the lines of this:

“Well, this officer (pointing to one of several) is a rookie and I was teaching him to run down plates. We happened to pick yours and noticed that it’s registered to a woman reported missing. So, now we need to investigate this.”

I’ve told that story to several non-local cops and they’ve all said the same thing, “That’s bullshit. They were just trying to fuck with you.” I was actually dumb enough to believe the cops back then. That was before I was informed of the corrupt reputation that the MPD has and also before they began showing me exactly how dishonest they were…not to mention swayed by that set of huge, 19 year old knockers. I’m smarter than that now…hence the video tape.

I tried to do a young couple a favor and move them in. I tried to treat them decently but it quickly became obvious that they were far too immature, dishonest, manipulative and destructive to be in my home. Very early yesterday morning, the police where here because I woke up in the middle of the night to find out that these 2 yahoos had moved in a 3rd person without so much as mentioning it. I could tell you stories about that experience, but now now, I’m bored of it. But…I will later. Trust me, you wouldn’t believe it. I didn’t say anything while it was happening because I was so embarrassed to have gotten myself in that situation again. And, I knew it wouldn’t last much longer anyway.

While Rebecca “Becky” Dodrill and Jesse Dodrill were here, one night she started talking about doing cocaine. I could tell she just wanted to see if I would chip in for what she called a “ball”. Well, I don’t do cocaine. I’m not a fricking moron and I have too many health problems to take that chance. Somehow we got on the subject of the MPD and I mentioned how they didn’t like me and how I hated to have them come to my house because it’s so embarrassing to have them here with my neighbors looking on. She knows how much I despise having the cops in front of my house so she’s trying to bring them over on an ongoing basis and I’m trying to keep my innocent ass out of jail. For some reason, the police are putty in her cocaine addicted hands. I think the official name for it is “harassment” by Marietta Police.

A few weeks ago I was assaulted and even though I reported the crime to 3 different cops (http://bit.ly/E0YXE), they were ALL as bored as they could be. One cop threatened to arrest me so I quietly got in his squad and let him take me home at which time I called 911 to ask for “ANY OTHER COP!” than the one who refused an assault victim assistance.

I blogged about that as well and the heat is on.

Did you notice how the cops sat and watched her open the dead bolt with a bunch of keys (even though she knows which one it is and always has) finally making the tumbler turn? Then she removed the wrong key and handed it to the cops. It was the wrong key and the cop said, “She has a couple that look alike.” DUH!!! She had just unlocked the dead bolt and then she took the wrong key off the key chain. How observant can a cop NOT be? I noticed it and I wasn’t even trained in police work. Of course, boobs have no effect on me.

Oh, don’t let me forget the part where, although I was sitting at my computer 5 feet away from the cops, they demanded that I come outside. When I asked them why, they gave lame answers like “We need to keep you 2 separated.” The other one said, “I had to explain to you what was going on.” Well, first, the cokehead was on the other side of the house and I was right in front of the cops sitting here at my computer. The microphone is further than I was as I was sitting here and YOU can hear them so I’m quite sure that I would have been able to handle a conversation from where I was.

After Officer Arrowhead reassured the lying, manipulating wench that she wouldn’t get any warrant (when I said that she would) I had to laugh because he has no idea for what I’m swearing out a warrant. I could have done it yesterday but I didn’t want to be a mega-bitch. Today I do.

Right here:

http://diaryofmydivorce.blogspot.com/2009/07/death-poll.html

In Moscow Obama tells Russian students:

“The recession is proof that risk comes with change.”

Someone needs to tell me, what the hell does that mean?

I understand that even small towns can have nutty shooters, but why does it ONLY seem to happen in small towns nowadays? Very convenient for a government looking to abolish the 2nd amendment, isn’t it?

After all this time, why hasn’t Obama denounced Reverend White’s claims that we were all lied to on 9/11?

It would also be nice to see a school allow a student to have her freedom of speech even if it’s a politically incorrect opinion. But, how did a pro-life t-shirt become politically incorrect? Even Planned Parenthood says, “the student’s right to political speech should be protected in balance with this education mission”. You would think that school administrators would have studied the First Amendment at some point. Funny how we never heard of a school removing a t-shirt that said, “Bush Lied-Kids Died”.

How come people who think that republican politicians are so unfair are so trustworthy of democrats? Can one group of politicians be totally and secretly evil without the help of more than half of the rest of them?

While our young people are dieing in Afghanistan, why is every single news network still talking about a dead musician? Do you honestly think CNN would be ignoring an invasion lead by George Bush?

Why isn’t a course in Logic required in Women’s Studies at any university in this country? And what the hell does a person do with a degree in Women’s Studies anyway?

Why is it newsworthy that Russian TV isn’t all over an American president’s silly speech to a bunch of pliable kids? When was the last time our networks covered ANY foreign head of state’s speech?

“These are the things that bother me, not a lot of things across some sea.”—-Lobo

I’m annoyed but I’m going to try to be as pleasant as I can. Granted, that’s not terribly pleasant but I’ll give it a go anyway. I have too many irritants to list but trust me, I’m doing the best I can to avoid committing violence. Thank God for xanax.

There’s a sweet little female dog named Sophie who is the Houdini of all dogs. Her owner can’t keep her in his yard because she gets away no matter what he does. She visits me on a regular basis and she’s been here since yesterday. I tried letting her run home but she just ran into two streets (I live on a corner) and brought traffic to a screeching halt. She used to have his phone number written on her collar so I would just call him to come and get her but the number has worn off so I can’t do that this time. Yesterday I tried putting a leash on her and walking wherever she took me, assuming she would head home. Maybe she WAS heading home but after a mile and a half, I just gave up and brought her back home with me.

I really like that dog so I enjoy her little visits but she hasn’t been fixed and neither has my male dog. I don’t want to be related to the guy so I have to keep an eye on the two of them. The owner is a nice guy but I don’t want anymore relatives. Relatives have caused me more grief than friends ever could. As I was walking her back to my house, I realized that my dog couldn’t knock her up because someone beat him to the punch. Oh well, it’s not my problem unless she decides to deliver her puppies in my bedroom.

I have her tied up to my kitchen table because my doors are open for a breeze. My AC is still broken although I can sit in my room and be cool. Of course, I can’t use the computer in there so occasionally I have to wander out into the tropical areas of my house. Looking around it appears as though I need to do some housework although I’d really rather have a maid like Hazel who wouldn’t let it get messy in the first place. But, alas, I couldn’t afford to rent a maid for a day so I guess the idea of having a maid full time is pure folly.

I never did check to see if I won the lottery after I bought those last Mega Million tickets so for all I know I’m mega-rich. I would check the numbers if I could find the damn ticket but I can’t seem to do that. Apparently, I’ve done what I do with most of my things, I put it in a very safe place. I’ll find it, just not this month. Thank God the car and the computer are too big to hide from myself.

I have a menagerie of animals all around me right now and they wouldn’t all be so close to me if they weren’t hungry so I guess I’ll feed them. They outnumber me big time and my dog alone outweighs me so feeding them would be the wise thing to do. I guess I’ll go do that while they’re all relatively calm. I won’t be gone very long because I’m sure that something will annoy me soon and I’ll probably come here to vent.

See ya soon!

My AC isn’t working so I’ve been ridiculously hot for the past few days but as long as I stay in my room, I can be cooler because a very nice man took pity on me and bought me a window unit. So, life is much nicer now that I can at least sleep without sweating all over myself.

Remember how I got my lawn mowed by putting an ad on Craigslist and whining that I didn’t want to mow my own grass? Well, yesterday I did it again only I whined about being too hot and full of sweat. I got a BUNCH of responses but one guy was older and didn’t ask that stupid question, “What’s in it for me?” so I chose him. He came over and we chatted outside for a while (I never let them in my house unless I feel comfortable and my dog is right next to me) and then we got in his car and went to Home Depot where he bought me a nice air conditioner Next we headed to Stone Mountain to watch the laser show and fireworks but when we got there, it was closed because it was filled to capacity. So, we came back to Marietta and went to the Square to watch the fireworks here. Unfortunately, his hip started hurting him so badly that he had to leave but that was fine with me, I had a very comfortable room to hang out in so I did just that. I guess if you’re going to associate with men my own age you pretty much have to expect a few broken dudes every so often. I’m a bit broken myself so I certainly understand.

I would get another dude to fix the AC today or mow my lawn but I have a date with a guy who I know. He’s a Jewish guy from Boston and it cracks me up to hear him use Jewish words with his accent. All the Jewish people I know are from the Chicago area so a Bostonian Jew is as odd to me as is a Jewish lady from Mississippi.

After I dated a Jewish guy as a teenager and found out that his parents referred to me as the “yutz” and the “shiksa”, I swore off Jewish men unless they were orphans. But oddly enough, this one has both of his parents who are like a billion years old. I’m letting that slide for now because this guy is older than were the parents who called me a yutz back in the 70’s. I’m assuming that he’s not as pliable as a teenaged Jewish kid but who knows, he’s coming over today…after his weekly visit to his parents.

When I met this one, I was a tad taken aback by the way he looked. His looks were hard to read because he had been working all day. He owns a business that machines and fixes antique and foreign motorcycle speedometers. How obscure is that? After speaking to him for a while, I realized how bright and decent he was so I tried picturing him without all the grease and without his helmet hair. He started looking quite attractive after a while.

Isn’t that odd? A good looking guy can open his mouth and be ugly and a funky looking Jewish guy from Boston can open his mouth and become attractive. I don’t know why, but that’s the way it works.

I don’t know what the hell I ever saw in my ex…he’s neither attractive nor bright and Lord knows he wasn’t decent. When we were 24, he had already lost most of his hair and he had a pungent brand of body odor that I was unfamiliar with until that time. I SO didn’t like him when we met but he kept coming around and eventually started using deodorant at my request. Before long I had taken a shine to him, the most inexplicable thing that I’ve ever done. I have no excuse except to say that I was young and drinking often. Damn that Michelob.

It’s only supposed to get up to 83 today so I shouldn’t be as miserable as I’ve been. I guess this is a good time to mow my lawn. I have to do it myself because I don’t have time to find a guy to do it and get rid of him before Jewish dude gets here. Oh well. It’s only going to get hotter so I’m going to go and do one of my least favorite things, manual labor. One of these days I might get a regular guy to take care of such chores, but for today, I’m going to have to go out and do it myself. Then, I’ll shower and use deodorant so no one tells the entire world that I stink.

See ya!

Maybe I lose my car keys three times a day, but I can back out of a circular driveway faster than the EMT’s who picked up Michael Jackson…especially with a dying person in the back. And after all these years, I still have to read the McDonald’s menu every time I go but I’m not stupid enough to fall for that insane Cap and Trade bill the House just passed. And I’m certainly not the most religiously astute person you’ll ever meet but I’m quite sure that there’s something seriously wrong with that nutty first couple from South Carolina who keep using scripture to justify their lame decision making ability.

Some things just bug me more than others. Oh, I have to mention one thing that’s really been bothering me. That nurse of Michael Jackson’s who keeps telling the world confidential things that occurred between her and Michael is doing the entire profession a disservice. How many people will avoid talking to health care professionals because they’re afraid of being outed on national TV? We’ll never know but it sucks that she won’t shut the hell up and remember that we are HONOR bound to keep private what happens between a nurse and a patient. Anyway, that’s it for that. No more Michael Jackson crap right now.

I woke up a little while ago, looked out the window and noticed that it seemed a bit brighter than late night so I got up and made some coffee thinking it was 6 AM. After a couple of cups of coffee and the realization that the sky wasn’t getting any brighter, I realized that I had woken up at 2:30 AM. Now it’s a few minutes to 4 and I’m wide awake with nothing to do. I suppose I could clean something but the fact that it’s not even 4 AM sort of implies that a more laid back activity is called for. Hence, I’m here.

I don’t really have anything to say but I’m not in the mood to sweep the floor so you’re getting this drivel, sorry.

Let’s see…what’s new? Oh, my back is peeling. The last time I went sailing I SPF’ed most of me but apparently I forgot my upper back and I wore a tank top with spaghetti straps so I was asking for this. To make it worse I had my hair in braids so most of my back was exposed. The braids might not have been the best idea, I heard a muffled “Pippi Longstocking” from some drunk chick who misjudged her own decibel level. I could have smacked her in the head but I was sober so I let it go. Anyway, I could really use a back scratching dude right now. This itching is torture…I would think it would work better than hideous heavy metal music and water-boarding. The CIA should have just tossed Noriega out in the Georgia sun for a while. I assure you, within a week he would have been pleading for the aloe and giving up his own family. I believe I would if I thought it would help.

Yesterday I did something that I promised myself I’d never do again. I rode a motorcycle. I put one down about 22 years ago and suffered a nasty case of roadburn. That’s when I swore off of those things but the closer I get to death, the less I care about it. On top of that, when you get older you have more chances of dying doing whatever it is you’re doing so it’s a good idea to do cool stuff and avoid dumb stuff. I’d rather have my obit read that I croaked in a motorcycle wreck than something stupid like a broken neck from falling at Bingo.

Well, that’s a pleasant thought, isn’t it? I think it’s time to stop being lazy in the dining room and try being lazy in the living room for a while. I’m reading a book that I haven’t picked up in a couple of days so I think I’ll do that. Although it isn’t very sexy, there’s nothing wrong with having a stroke while reading a good book as long as you get close to the end so I need to hurry up and get back to the book before my brain explodes.

See ya!

People have been asking who was bigger, Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley, or the Beatles? Intriguing question to be sure, but the truth is that there is no answer except to say, “We can’t possibly know.”

They’re are a LOT of reasons that we’ll never have an answer to that question but the biggest is the media. They have skewed things so badly that you just can’t answer it so it’s really a stupid question to even ask.

For all of the similarities that Michael’s death has to the death of The King, there are just as many differences.

The afternoon that Elvis’s death was announced, I was in California, pregnant with my first child, watching the old Match Game with Gene Rayburn. It was shortly after 2:30 PST. Across the bottom of the screen, a simple message scrolled along, beginning with…”The King…”. That’s all it took before I realized that Elvis Presley had died. The rest of the message confirmed what I had guessed and then I went back to watching the Match Game and waited for the evening news so that I could find out what happened to the most famous solo entertainer of my youth.

Back in that time, they wouldn’t have interrupted programing for anything less than the death of a president or an impending weather disaster. At one time, it wasn’t odd to hear the following statement when a favorite show was broken into by a news flash…”Somebody better be DEAD!” We knew something then that has faded into time, you can survive without having news available to you 24/7.

I’ve heard it submitted that JFK wouldn’t have been as much of a legend if he hadn’t died and Oswald hadn’t been shot going into a weekend. That left the young medium of television and the handful of networks free to dissect the assassination for an entire weekend, something unheard of in 1963. Even with the death of JFK, the networks wouldn’t have broken into weekday programming. The constant weekend coverage convinced a nation that this relatively average president was more than just that.

It’s certainly easy to see how they can exalt Michael Jackson to some sort of saint status by the constant and consistent coverage of his untimely death. We are being manipulated into considering Michael something more than he was, a talented yet tormented young man who was the victim of an abusive, overbearing and greedy father. We all got an idea of just how despicable Joe Jackson truly is recently.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t kick a man who just lost his youngest son but hell, it doesn’t seem to bother Joe, why should it bother me? He opened himself up to such comments when he walked the red carpet at the BET awards last Sunday. As if that alone wasn’t in bad enough taste, he proved himself a true piece of trash when that hideous quasi-human was asked about his family and the recent death of his son. On Sunday, we could still count in hours the time since Michael was pronounced dead and yet life was business as usual for this freak. He answered the question about his family with a a quick and terse non-answer, mumbling how they’re all fine and then he followed that brief comment with a comparably lengthy commercial for his new record label which I will not glorify by naming here.

My father was abusive by today’s standards. But 40 years ago, parents spanked their kids often. Of course, very few of them forced their children to be their meal tickets as did Joe Jackson. I can’t imagine what Michael went through being raised with such a non-feeling SOB for a father. Joe is only one person in a group of people responsible for the sad life and recent death of this tragic figure.

Michael is gone now and it would seem to me that the one last decent thing we can do for him is to assure that his children do NOT end up in the home of the man who has destroyed the lives of far too many children already.

When JFK died, and even when Elvis died, there was no Joe Jackson around to ensure anymore of a circus atmosphere than usually accompanies such an event. There was no news coverage for 5 days (with no end in sight) which seems to be assuring that we will all remember this man for more than he was.

Michael was not a saint, he was not even a man of any character. He was a great entertainer to be sure. But a lot of great entertainers are never aggrandized the way the press is hyping the life and death of Michael Jackson. So…is Michael Jackson REALLY more famous than Elvis and the Beatles? We just won’t know until future generations who have been untouched by this insane media coverage that is skewing the life of Jackson come around and pose the question in a more objective time. Hopefully, more dispassionate minds will answer that question with an answer that can be given some credence. In the meantime, we’ll just continue to hear how wonderful Jackson was and how he is now “bigger in death than he ever was in life”.

I guess there are millions more “yes people” than those in Michael’s immediate circle. Shame on them all.

The press and the DEA are doing you a disservice right now. They’re ranting about acetaminophen (Tylenol) and whining about putting labels on every bottle to warn you of the dangers. But, they haven’t seemed to mention the most important piece of info that you need…the dosage that is TOO much for you to take.

Anything more than 4000 milligrams of acetaminophen a day can cause liver damage. Isn’t that easy? So, like people read the caloric information on their food, they need to read the ingredients on their medications. Many, many different drugs contain the stuff. So, the smart thing to do is monitor the totals of acetaminophen that you are ingesting and stop before you get to 4000 milligrams (4 grams). DUH.

Even the makers of combination pain meds like vicodin, lortab, lorcet etc…, that contain a narcotic AND acetaminophen, have finally realized that for the average user, the acetaminophen is more dangerous that an innocuous narcotic like hydrocodone (unless it’s abused of course) so they’re coming out with new combinations that have lower dosages of acetaminophen but the levels of the narcotic have not changed.

At levels over 4000 milligrams a day, a person is subject to serious liver disease. We pretty much NEED our livers and we should take good care of them. So, if you know anyone who might be able to benefit from this information, send it to them now.

And I’ll be right back, I have something else on my mind.

It’s my birthday and I’ll bitch if I want to. It just turned 10 AM and already I’ve been annoyed mightily. The most recent annoyance came when I was putting gas in my car. How come you can put 50 bucks in a tank in 38 seconds but the last 20 cents takes 2 minutes? I hate standing at a gas pump squeezing that last few drops out of the nozzle but I’m always afraid that if I don’t get every last bit of it, I’ll run out of gas a block before I get to the gas station.

So that left me peeved and perplexed.

Then I got into a minor argument with a 19 year old. At my age that can be rather vexing because 19 year-olds don’t make any sense. You never know what will come out of their mouths next so it’s best to avoid all contact with one of them whenever possible. I tried, I swear I did. But that little wench didn’t have the maturity to shut up and walk away. I keep worrying that I’ll be the subject of a newspaper headline that reads, “19 Year Old Murders 51 Year Old Woman On Her Birthday”.

More ado and vexation.

Of course here’s the inescapable reminder that, at 51, over half of my life is over an I’m on the down side of life. I’m pretty sure that I’m sliding into the end of my life like Ricky Henderson slides into second base. Whatever.

On the bright side, my ex husband is still madly in love with me and he proves it on a regular basis. My other ex likes to pretend that he’s a single guy who’s still waiting for me to magically reappear in his life and that the crying baby in the background is his latest GRANDchild. I love that, this time, I’m not the woman being betrayed by his dishonesty. I have one other ex who has left me alone since our divorce and he’s the one I would have thought would be nuttier than the rest but he’s the only one of three who knows how to behave like a respectable ex husband…he stays out of my life completely. Whoda thunk it? That’s the one from San Francisco who directed my father to the Mint thusly…”They’re on the counter by the cash register.”

Of course yesterday was a bitch, what with that creepy dude who actually took the time to speak to my even creepier ex. I’m sort of glad that it happened because I was looking for a way to avoid a man with bigger boobs than mine. I sort of freaked when he peeled his shirt off in the Gogia heat and looking back, no matter how rude he was, all is really right with the world. I couldn’t kiss one of those nipples without a loud guffaw. Oh, and I’m a nipple kisser from way back.

By the way…don’t forget, I bought lottery tickets for tomorrow and I’m pretty sure that, if ever I’m going to win ANYTHING…tomorrow’s Mega Millions is gonna be it. If I don’t, I’m never buying lottery tickets again. Hell, if I DO win, I’m never buying them again so I’ve purchased my last lottery tickets.

Yep, no more lottery tickets for me. I’m not THAT stupid. Of course, I am stupid enough to continue dating men although that tact hasn’t been any more successful than the lottery thing. It’s all good though…someone needs to mow the lawn.