chou chope

shoe-i-cide

goodbye cruel world

i liked it here, but i can't stay any longer. i have maybe 25 readers, most institutionalized. i tried to tell zonk this would not be far reaching, but he is going to be missing my weirdness, as you all are. all i can ask is that you fill the great void that i'll leave when i exit the blodgosphere with absolute crack grade gibberish. do it for me, freaks, it's what i'd have done if i could only have lasted just one more day.

truth is, this blown eyed blodging can be some rough business as I've recently found. i need a break, a permanent one.

please, drop me an email, especially you, lurky lou. maybe i'll hook you up with my new digs, should i find some.

until then, y'all be good.

Neglect is a dish best not served

It's better that I not write everyday. You should trust me on that.

Not only do I have nothing tangible to add to the discussions of late, my heart is broken with everyone elses. Have you ever seen grace like those Hokies have exhibited? It really is the most phenomenal thing, and the only part of all this senseless tragedy that makes any sense.

I saw O'Reilly and many other media characters defending their playing of the package the other night, and I don't want to rant on and on, but I would like to call bullshit on the lying cocksuckers right here and now.

There was nothing newsworthy about that freakshow manifesto that they aired. I believe they (Fox News) were so green with jealousy over the psycho choosing NBC New York as his target audience, they released and overplayed news items just as soon as they got their hands on them with no regard for just what they were putting on the airwaves.

Fox news was the worst. The absolute worst. I swear, when the only conservative media outlet starts acting like they have ABC morals, we are all in big trouble. It wasn't just their complete lapse of judgement in airing that psycho during the dinner/homework hour (6-8 pm in Texas), but moreso their continued defense of such a moral lapse. Every one of their, what do you call them, personalities(?) was on Fox all of last night and this morning defending their necessity in airing that horseshit.

Does anybody follow me?

They say in the financial world of near constant ethics training that no one sets out to do the big disgraceful Enron level ripoff. Most often, there are a series of tiny ethical lapses in judgement that lead to an almost acceptable practice of just sweeping some things under the rug, all nice and tidy like. This often continues to the point of there being little room left for ethical considerations whatsoever. Afterall, once everyone just accepts that we do no wrong, what is there to critique? (AKA the spin stops here)

As back up for my bitch session, I want you all to know that none of the media outlets can dig out of this one. It wasn't just the Cho stuff. While I was cooking dinner, the news was oscillating between Cho and the Supreme Court's ruling on partial birth abortion. HOLY shit.

Psychotic killer, partial birth abortion, massacre, brain suckage, carnage, baby killing, it's all your fault. So it went. The Supreme Court info was way more over the line (in my humble opinion) and inappropriate for the dinner hour than most of that B movie mansonesque manifesto, though equally non newsworthy. Everything about the news was offensive and little made sense to my children Wednesday night.

Polarrhoids have no idea that they even do this. Look at them, it's ridiculous. Have you heard any other complaints about the media coverage on that? Did it bother you to hear about baby brain sucking over dinner? My point exactly. The polarrhoids, are now, finally, getting wind that the greed they exhibited in putting that trash out there was transparent to everyone. Do they apologize, as they would browbeat someone like Imus or Bush to do? No, they rush back to their media source to defend their airing of the manifesto, ranting about the necessity of us knowing why he did it, and of course, because abortion sans brain suckage is still perfectly acceptable. I know. Turn that frown upside-down, shoester, everything is going to be alright. Eventually.

A hundred bucks says no one saw a thing on how offensive that simultaneous news coverage was, right? Thank goodness I have my blodge so the three of you that read it can vent with me.

And one more thing, no network that pays Geraldo Riviera to pretend he is a viable reporter should be allowed to use a tagline like "the spin stops here". No freaking way. BULLSHIT!! I need a seriously conservative news network. Anybody got any ideas?

Marquis de Zonk

The term sadism derived from his name. Makes sense to me, and you, mon cherie?

Of course I'm speaking of the ever vile, yet always ambiguous Zonquero. Just a fortnight ago I was speaking to him about my computer issues. You know, darlings, I am fraught with computer issues. I don't fucking get it. I only use the stupid thing to write email, not exactly multi media techno masterpieces, ya know? Still, it's only a year old and it seizes up as often as Fred Sanford.

I'd rather call RSM. Not only is he technologically savvy, he is also easy to imagine all pected out in a pair of camo pants, maybe waxing my wood floors...
Nasty boy, he is just as sick as Zonker when it comes to teasing me. I'd like to teach him a lesson or two about cleaning, but first, push ups. Yeah, push ups...

But, I don't call RSM with my goofy seizure issues. Which IS odd considering he has a lot of experience in the health and tech services. Ahhhhh, service men. Still, he's got a BAD case of mac envy. One that I can't cure with my small insignificant garage-built-by-stoners-in-Austin, fuctard class-action sued Dell piece of SHIT!! Agh. Sorry, peeps. To say I'm frustrated would be a wee bit understated.

By the way, is it as confusing to read this as it is to write? Just wondering.

So I'm on the phone with Zonk. And I'm missing you all so, I can't stand it. A whole weekend with no children, I can laze around like the champions. But it's seizureville in casa de chou, again. Post something? Or, perhaps throw this fucking box through the front window, I just don't know...

I call Zonk. Mistake, perhaps, at least sexsurely speaking. That retard starts going on and on and on about his small insignificant hard drive. And something else about how it never felt good enough or big enough when he was out surfing. It just made him feel, well, like he didn't measure up, frankly.

I mean, look around you. There are a lot of much, much bigger blodgers out there. Zonk definitely had a point.

Still, typical of fucking men, I call him with a problem, my problem, and he found a way to make it all about him! Dude, I needed help. This wasn't supposed to be all about you and your tiny insignificant & impotent hard drive. HOLY SHEESH!! I suprise myself, at my age, with a third a century under my belt, and I never saw that coming. For shame, chou, really, shame on me.

So where was I? Zonk is going on and on and on (you think I'm kidding) about his weak lil hard drive and telling me they have these stores now where they have all kinds of external devices you can buy. This solved Zonk's sociointranet woes, because he found some kind of bionic hard drive apparatus that when he blodges with it, gives him great satisfaction. Apparently, it's worked and has led all of us to believe that Zonk is just plugging away out there, not a care in the world. Not so, my precious peep eyes, not so.

Yikes. Let me tell you, it was obvious that I struck a nerve with the Marquis de Zonk. I think I fell asleep a couple of times listening to him talk about how he was super zonk thanks to that device. That's all I remember, I said night night. Passed out and when I woke up I found this in my inbox:

zonker hide details Apr 13 (2 days ago)
to chouchope@gmail.com
date Apr 13, 2007 10:34 PM
subject External Hard Drives
signed-by yahoo.com
mailed-by yahoo.com

Great big throbbing hard drives...
http://www.newegg.com/Product/ProductList.aspx?Submit=ENE&N=2010150414&bop=And&Order=RATING

See. You all think I'm the perv, but you don't see what goes on between the HTML sheets. It's hard out here for a mommy. And the blown eyeds? They are a seriously unrelenting and resourceful bunch.

Ciao, Bellas. See ya round the sphere!

High There, Vacation Chapter 5

Yes, it goes on. Sorries. Even though a month has now elapsed since these memories were recorded, still, they must be shoveled somewhere, so deal. Since there are a lot o pics on this one, I pushed it behind the extended entry.

On the second day of Disney, we were totally in the groove. Up early for breakfast and on one of the first buses to the Magic Kingdom. The kids were hamming it up all the way to the park.

I think Disney is the cocoa bean of American capitalist culture. I just can not express the drugging effect of being in such a happy place. To be honest, prior to arriving, I really thought I was doing some great wonderful selfless act by taking the kids there. But it turned out, it was just what I needed. It was just what the doctor ordered. Just what my 15th consecutive tax season had always been missing...a rocket ride into lala land.

I think the boys' affection for the theme characters really shocked me. True bought an autograph book with some of his money and really let his oc shine with that. He critiqued all the characters handwriting and talked incessantly about his interactions with them.

We even had lunch with Pooh and his people at Crystal Palace that afternoon. I overheard some great dialogue in there. Probably the funniest was Alex.

Alex with great disgust, "Uh! Did you see that? Piglet is wearing a costume, I saw his zipper in the back. I can't believe this?!"
True, "He's not wearing a costume, he has a zipper on his clothes. Really, Alex, I see you have a zipper on your pants. Is that your Alleymouse costume you're wearing?"
Alex, "Oh, of course. It's his clothes. I get it."
True, "Duh! This is a family place."

We walked our little legs off and though the Kingdom was full that day, we saw it all. We mastered the fast pass maneuver. True was scribbling strategies for our last assault on the Disney Empire by the time the afternoon sun started to drop.

And though I was warned not to take the kids to the haunted house, it was the part of the park I remembered vividly from my childhood.

However, the boys weren't scared at all, in fact, they faked up the fear photos. Who can be afraid in such a wonderful place? We were just too happy for words.

We didn't stay late at the park that night. That 1 guy drove up and brought the boys batteries. Needless to say, for bringing to life the lightsabers, T1G became a pretty important fellow. Thanks, buddy, you'll always be my duracell man, no matter what.

We had a few anchor steams as the light saber wars commenced, by the pool and the stars, it was a great time for all of us. And a perfect day.

blown eyes crying in the rain

Hey, howdy, hey!
With the Texas blodge meet a mere three weeks away, I have decided to start a new regular feature here for the month of April only. Are you paying attention? Well, righty-o there pardner, on with the show.

Actually, I admit, I don't have the kind of stick-to-it-ness it would take to have a regular feature. But I'm not blind, I see it's all the rage out there. I was just trying to grab a piece for me and mine, and then I realized, hey I'm already full. This is not really going to happen.

If I did have a time for a regular feature, I think it would be a beginner's manual for attending your first blown eyed blodge meet. I wouldn't call myself a veteren, by any stretch of the imagination, but I've been to four big blodge meets and I've learned a thing or two. Things that I could share in the interest of simply improving the world, at least our little blown-eyed lot.

Sacrifice: Ask not what the blown eyeds will do for you, ask yourself what you are willing to give up, possibly for good. Of course I'm talking about the ultimate kharmic bitchslapping that always accompanies these events and especially that one lucky one that ALWAYS bears the brunt of it. That's what you get for bringing the blown eyeds right into your real life world.

The way I tally things, the official tribe of blown-eyeds, counting all dependents, have cost Acidman his life, quite a few of us a wife (some only briefly, some for good), Dash & Christina a home, all of us the city of New Orleans, and most recently cost Walrilla his foot. The "lite" drama instances would be far to numerous to name in a blodge post, but don't play with this fire unless you are already pretty callous already. Hear me, kids?

Great, I ran out of time. I will have to finish later. Any suggestions from the seasoned among you. There are quite a few new fresh faces coming, so are there any topics y'all think must be covered? Please, shout those out in the comments.

Have a good one!

not good for Abigail

Me, "How was your behavior today, True?"

True, "Not good."

Me, "What happened?"

True, "Well..I just can't seem to control my talking so I had to move my desk right next to my teacher's."

Me, "What? But, you love your teacher, though. I bet you like sitting next to her."

True with a blush and a big grin, "Yep. I sure do!"

Me, "So, what's not good about that?"

True, "It's not good for Abigail. I'm afraid she's going to fail math meeting without me."

One for the Vault, Vacation Intermission

Hay There, Vacation Chapter 4

I have written about my spending disorders before, but I forgive you if you're not one to read the history first. Me neither. For you, my fellow cliff notes variety fruitcake, just don't comment about my money sickness. I know.

Anyhoo. Before I can even get to Disney, I have to say we were so far ahead thanks to Bou. Thank you, Bou! Your calling me and all the pointers, and everything was so appreciated. You helped make our trip as memorable as it was, and as clusterfuck prone as I usually am, I know it was all thanks to you and your almanac of Disney Beta. Have you considered a sideline business, Bou? Really, you should turn your quirky engineering ways into a profit stream. You are a viable resource, enough said.

So we get in line, I mean, get to Disney. Actually, we got in a two hour lag wait at the hotel checking in which for us was park entry as well. And since we got to the park unexpectedly late, we made a last minute decision to go to EPCOT first. Bou said it was never crowded, and you know, first day of spring break, and it wasn't.

We rode everything once. The kids could care less about the countries. We didn't even see them that first day. We rode two or three rides, until the first one that dumped us into a giant store at the end. God bless capitalism! It's like riding a giant slide into a FAO Schwarz. Instead of filtering thru turnstyles, you filter past cash registers. We were all dumbfounded by the fifteen feet of product. I lost the kids, probably more than once, didn't care, awe, lookie at that. Isn't that cute? Smitten, we were.

I had done a great job, I thought, of confining the children with well thought out limits. True got 6 A's, straight A's, in fact, so I paid him ten bucks apiece. Alex was having a birthday on the day after we returned and since I hadn't really gotten him anything, I told him he could have sixty bucks to spend as well. And so with the children safely corralled at $120, I proceeded to spend money like a drunken high roller in Vegas, minus the winning streak.

And the boys, ran away and came back demanding their first piece of mousegear. Check it out...the 50's variety original mousketeer beanie. Soon after, Alleycat requested that he be known as the Alleymouse henceforth.

We petered out of energy at around 2 that afternoon, went back to our hotel, swam for an hour and then ventured back out. We went to the Animal Kingdom, which we thought was a mistake, because it looked like million people pouring out of there when we arrived at 4. we didn't realize that park closed around 7. Everyone was openly griping about the insane crowds as they filtered past us, but we got in and no one was there. Pure luck. Somehow our traffic kharma carried on into Disney. We rode the Kali River Ride about 5 times straight at the end, we were all soaked.

Some people there told us it was late night at MGM & that they had a neat firework show. We hopped on a bus, went to MGM, walked right in the door, to the restroom, noticed people gathering by a door. It was people who had scored no waiting front row seats for the cool firework show, and this doorway was the secret entrance. We slipped through, undetected by the ticket patrols along the way. It was awesome.

Probably kept the kids up until 11 that night. We ended by flying in a star wars simulator. The boys were so excited and at the end, they bought themselves lightsabers with the bulk of their Disney dollars.

But I was suffering by the end of day one. We have a saying in my business that goes, "put some hay in the barn, " a reminder to save a little everyday. Well, that first day in mouseland, was like watching the barn go up in flames. I was so flipping out of control with my financial disorders, I refused to even price batteries for the lightsabers. The kids were beside themselves. They put in their own request:

Help me, JoeBi-OneKenobi, you're my only hope

And one last afterthought from that day, Jolie reminded me, we heard the "expialadoches" song at MGM movie ride. The kids lost it. Here we are in this booooooring old movie land, and the grannies were all singing about assholes!

antioxilunch

An outsider looking in might have thought it was healthy and fine. Or maybe not.

Springtime, for me, always seems to trigger a tomato addiction. Today, I took lunch early because I have been fantacizing all morning at my desk about cooking up some steak sized mater slabs, and with fresh parmesian. Ummmm-mmm.

I don't even know if this is a real food. Have I eaten this before? I can't say it was even good, but man, how I craved it.

Which worries me a lot. Normally, after battling this kind of craving and succumbing to the pressure, I'd run directly to the pharmacy and buy a pregnancy test. But it is springtime, and those tomatoes were as juicy as a puppy's heart. Maybe I'm ok?

Unfortunately, I'm home for lunch, which means stalking all you freaks. Decided I'd veer off the beaten path and read a little about tomatoes. Did y'all know one serving of a tomato based product per day is said to reduce chances of heart disease by 30% (I can't tell you why I can't link you there, but Harvard said so). Kick ass, and I wasn't even trying. I just let my oc go, just a little bit, and blammo, look at me, i'm fighting heart disease. And prostate cancer. I am a badass again. I knew this was going to be a great day!

Or maybe my body is just telling me I'm ripe for freaking heart disease, why else would that last surviving brain cell be sending the message to slop at the tomato trough? Who knows?

Me not know. I'm back to work on belly full of tomatoes, though. Might just be my secret supergurl jet fuel. We'll see.

Psychobitch, Ignited

So back to the matter at hand. Thursday night, Alex brought me a piece of paper when I asked about his homework. He told me all I had to do was put names into the computer. He knows I like the computer, so he thought I'd be all over it.

Names in the computer? Hmmm.

Unfortunately, as my own psychobitch was flaring, I must have ignited the paper because it is long gone. However, it was a salespitch, the same kind I wrote about back when True bought into the whole salesgig thing, back in 2005. This time, a new twist as it was all online driven.

Basically, it's an exciting opportunity for our school to enhance our reading program. ALL we have to do, is go to our computer at home in the next 6 hours (before the next school day) and enter a dozen email addresses & that's it!! Alex will receive a plush stuffed animal, a flying chicken for his work, and every mini soul in that kinder class wants to win that chicken. The fever is unreal.

I had a two word answer for Alex that left him bawling. He cried and cried and said it was his homework and he was going to be in trouble. Major drama that night, very uncharacteristic of Alex, that erupted over and over again until bedtime.

And because I'm an earlybird blown-eye, I hit the box pre shower every day. Oddly enough, Friday morning, Alex surfaced, sales pitch in hand at 6 in the morning, and once again begged me to enter the names.

Y'all, heartbreak must be the primary contributing factor in all psychobitch outbreaks. At six a.m., I just can not deal with my baby boy crying because he doesn't understand why mommy hates his homework or why I want to make him the only outcast kinder kid that doesn't get the glorious stuffed flying chicken. THE HORROR!

Hey, I think I've admitted one or two times I'm not that good at this.

Well, that in fact, ignited my psychobitch which I, in turn, read on my young republican's face as a total Kerry styled reversal. All of the sudden, Alex was fine with me not entering the names and his quest became keeping me from going to his school to discuss just why they were turning my baby into a spam artist for Readers freaking Digest?? You mean they aren't already bankrupt? You think this will save them?

Oh, but go I did. Had a meeting with the principal and it was entirely unproductive, as most psychobitch outbreaks are. She assured me that she herself had played guinea pig and tried the program. She, of course, remembered to plug how reputable reader's digest IS (was, ever?), you know, that brought to you byline of our culture? ANYONE, explain to me what is reputable about extorting sales leads from 6 year olds? ANYONE?? You want to see psychobitch? Try and swill-sell this saleswoman and I'll take your firstborn, just on principle. It makes me mad as hell.

When the principal asked how I thought she should resolve this issue, I said it was simple, give Alex a chicken and we'll be over it. She said, "His mommy can buy him a chicken, " which, holy fuck, it's amazing I didn't maim her for life right then. I hate being spoken to in third person! Is she trying to mess with me?

I made a really unbelievably graceful (I thought) exit, although, I'm certain the smoke was still pouring out my ears as I left, I was fuming. Still, you can't fight city hall and why even try?

You reap what you sow, and so do those fuctards out there.