I Heart Twitter

Dear Twitter,

I think I am in love.

I'm made someone in Cali (I think it was Cali.  Maybe @singlemomseeking is in MD) cry and I made a UK radio talker laugh. 

Won't you be my Valentine?  Provided that I actually feel like celebrating a holiday that I abhor most of all?

All my bestest,
The Diatribest

Would it be wrong of me to steal the olive oil from my table @MacaroniGrill?

Would You Like a Side of Crack with Your Crack?

For the record, I've never done drugs, others than those prescribed for me. 

Though many question the truth of that statement.

As a child, I was sick far too often and was usually on some type of drug that made me a trippy, high-strung motor-mouth or a depressed, weapy insomniac.  So the idea of partaking in 'recreational' drugs has never appealed to me.  Why get trippy or stoned when I had spent a good portion of my childhood in that crappy state?  Plus I had the absolute fear of my father to dissuade me from getting high. 

For example, when I did the typical 'rebellious' act of piercing my navel, after getting into an argument over how I contracted mono (my roommate had it, and NO, we did not have THAT type of college experience), I was so scared my father would come after me with a pair of pliers if he found out.  (Note: I was 21, not living at home, paying my way through college).  So much for me being a bad-ass rebel.

On top of the illness and sheer terror of my father, I know a lot about the ingredients that goes into drugs.  Somehow the idea of paying good money to purchase a cocktail of battery acid, drain cleaner, and Epsom salt (meth) or baking soda/baby powder, water, and ground coca (crack) doesn't appeal to me.  Really, if I wanted to play Russian roulette with my body, I could go down to the dollar store and huff some White-out  or I could 'chase the dragon' and mix up a cocktail of bleach and ammonia to see how long I can inhale the fumes before I pass out.  

And no, I don't want to hear about how weed is a perfectly natural substance and doesn't hurt anybody.  I find that statement to be complete and utter bullshit.  I had two friends from childhood who started with pot and moved onto heavier things.  One did a combo of speed and an 8ball, broke into a house, and beat up 2 cops who showed up to arrest him (several years in jail) and another did a B&E on a pizza joint, shot and killed a few people, and is in jail for the rest of his life.  (He taught me how to shoot a layup when I was 6th grade).  So much for a harmless drug.

But when the Kiddo goes to school in August, I have the perfect deterrence to keep him from EVER wanting to get involved in drugs.  The simple argument is that when you purchase your drugs, there is a good chance it was already in your dealer's butt.  Don't believe me, check out The Smoking Gun and keyword search "butt" and "drugs." As of today's search I found six articles on this site alone, three of which involved idiots from Florida.

And it's not just the male dealers who utilize this hiding places.  Ladies have their own special spots.  I even found a website with helpful hints.  I can save you the trouble and curiosity, there weren't any pictures (thank you!) but the descriptions were far too um, explicit.  

So my idea for the war on drugs isn't to pump millions of dollars into anti-drug campaigning.  It should be a sign that is hung on hallways of every school:  "Want to experiment with drugs?  Stick your finger in your poo-hole and sniff.  If you don't gag and vomit, there is something completely wrong with you.  Go to the nearest hospital have have your olfactory senses tested." 

I think that would convince a few hundred million children to avoid drugs.  Now I just need to get a really popular actor/actress to address Congress and run this campaign by them.    Angie, Brad, Ashton?  Any of you up for a trip to DC?

The Search for the Maimed Parrot

And what sort of thanks do I get?  The bird destroyed one of my few remaining 'good' towels and crapped all over the laundry room floor.  Good thing it was outside.

It's Like Walking the Wire Without a Net

That's what I'm feeling right now.  Not exactly scared of falling because I am concentrating on walking.  But I know that if I look down, I will fall to my death.

I really want to make this work.  I know I can do it.  I realize that I don't have much too say tonight, as I've been up until 2AM the past few days talking to a friend who is going through a very difficult time.   There's this really funny post that I have all done in my head, and 1/4 done on 'paper,' but I keep losing my train of thought.

I walked around in the sun for 2 hrs today chasing after an injured Congo gray parrot.  One of the neighbors called out to me, as I traipsed through yards suggested that I should keep the bird and resell it.  Making $500 on a bird whose medical bill are sure to be at least $400 doesn't make a great profit.  Beside, the Kiddo is already afraid of butterflies, do I really need him to be frightened of birds that look like the have survived a garroting?

And now my computer won't comply with me.  I wanted to upload a picture of the stupid bird, but it's not working.  This is one for the crappy record books.