Good-Bye Mister Hawking

Goodbye Mister Hawking. Sorry that you never got my letter. 

When the news of your death hit the InterWires, I cried. Sure we’d joked about those races up and down Virginia Avenue. Loser hahaha. Faced with my Diet Coke and Menthos powered chair you stood no chance! Maybe you shouldn’t have spent so much time on that fusion engine ya know?. *  During those hours of build time you once told me to look at the stars, not at my feet. It was so easy! I hadn’t seen my feet for 20 years. But seriously Steve…

Hawking cover

Most folks are already aware of your brilliance in helping to explain the universe the stars and our planet. Extracting the mysteries of the galaxies. There’s much more though.

You were a vocal advocate for the disabled.  Maybe vocal isn’t the right clickity clackity word. Ratting out the NHS. Several years back Professor Hawking stated that without his wealth and fame, he’d be dead already. There’s currently a year waiting list for a wheelchair. You go Britain. Right up there with the U.S.

For the first time a beam was shone on physics, science and all things space oriented. A Brief History of Time was amazing. Have an admission though Steve: it took two tries to read the book through. It was worth every stutter and stammer. Nothing personal.
Just like a real friend you began by leading me to many more authors. From there to new ideas and places. I haven’t stopped.

Why did you leave with no goodbye? What the hell brainiac dude? Thought there was plenty of time to write a letter to you.

cropped-too-stupid-to-understand-science-try-religion-856499612-800x800

 

Professor Hawking, you were hysterical and serious by turns. Your dry humor, obvious intelligence, and ofttimes snarky wit confidently hid an unimaginable emotional pain.  Fun to watch the pundits filled with greed and political agendas attempting to stutter back. Your Humanist comments reflect the best in logic and peace. You never did hide behind your computer.

A mind filled with curiosity, yet insight combined with knowledge of a short life.  Mister Hawking, you didn’t miss this new age of exploration and scientific discovery beginning. Space flight for citizens is possible! Richard Branson offered you a free ticket! Dammit I could have been your plus one.

Good-bye Mr. Hawking and thank you.

Your Pal,

Rachael B.

 

Three Favorite Stephen Hawking Quotes

  • Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see and wonder about what makes the universe exist. Be curious. And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at. It matters that you don’t just give up
  • I believe alien life is quite common in the universe, although intelligent life is less so. Some say it has yet to appear on planet Earth.
  • The thing about smart people is that they seem like crazy people to dumb people

 

 

 

 

A Poem In the Key of Depression

crows in rain LG

I can beat anything. Conquer anything
From intellectual pursuits to stupid bar jokes
From Music to Skiing
It’s a proven fact and my humility is obvious as you can see

Sitting on the bed
Looking at the damned walker
Thinking of the fall last week that
I told no one about. No more hospitals

Knocked me out cold and caused a concussion
Followed by the first migraine ever
Followed the next day by
Electrical shocks all through my body and numbness

Fuck you body! Fuck you disease!

The truth is kicking my ass
Trying to wrap my broken brain around something
Walking again might not happen at a 30% chance
No dancing no man to love my life a nauseating carnival ride

During the third week in the hospital
Psychosis and hallucinations had stopped
Idiot physicians had jacked me full of steroids and was allergic
Read the records last week they note Explosive Personality

Well when I was drinking and in a black-out it was true
As I read through the charts I laughed
Laughter tinged with grim thoughts
There were no notes on a previous steroid reaction

One night I wandered out to the nurse’s station
And asked for a Cabernet and a Cigarette
Don’t Drink Don’t Smoke What do You Do?
Thought I was on a spaceship. With a bar. It’s so me.

My boyfriend of three years came to visit the third week
After the cognitive functions returned
He admitted after diligent questioning and lies
He had been with another for months. My heart, will and soul crushed then.

So I looked at those paralyzed legs that day
Sitting on the hospital bed going on three weeks
Looking at that damned wheelchair
Knowing he had been cheating on me, why he had not visited but twice and quickly

The number one cause of death from TM
Is Suicide.
Not failure of the liver or respiratory system or falls
Those are the silver, bronze and runner ups

Mom calls every day
She drives from California every two weeks
She does the laundry, prepares food for the freezer
Cleans the house and brings me Fresca which is nice

No longer can I cook, clean or hold anything for long
Taking a shower is a bitch. On a chair. Like a geriatric
Please wash my hair I’m so lonely and it hurts
Feel a burden and pathetic whiner to express these words to anyone

These are my thoughts after almost three months
Working hard each day with PT exercises
Trying to take a few steps no concussion please
Never able to get on my tippy toes again

Fuck you body! Fuck you disease!

Mom called last night and asked how I was
Told her about the anger the shocks, numbness the embarrassment of the steroid reaction
The worthless neurologist with no prognosis and no advice
Exhaustion of the body soul and nerve function and tear ducts

So Mom said Be Glad you were diagnosed so quickly
So what if that steroid caused the staff to treat you as a scary diagnosed psychotic
Your boyfriend was an abusive piece of shit. There is progress. There is no longer a wheelchair
You almost lost your life

And I answered
What Life?

Fuckin’ A Friday!

so kinky wrong greeting card

As Friday Foolishness has been usurped by El Guapo, and Friday Follies™ by Red, we here at YoYo-Dyne present: Fucking A Fridays! As this blog will never see the light of the Freshly Pressed page (some wargarble regarding  inappropriate language) this seemed the only possible title available.

As your Bi-Polar and Bi-Coastal host it’s a toss-up to see if this weekly posting can be kept alive. Or, at least zombified. This column is dedicated to Miss R’s Weekly Weirdest/Most Disturbing/Funniest/Offensive/Musical Best of the Interwebs.  The list is limited to graphics and videos viewed during the preceding week.

WARNING: All have the potential to amuse, amaze, agitate, alliterate (didn’t see that coming did you), nauseate, masturbate or Sharon Tate. No Refunds. All Rice Must be consumed with Nigiri orders. You Must Be This Tall To Ride. One Coupon Per Table.

Okay Roll ‘em!

Mr_Noodle

Hell On Heels –Poppin’ Pills

too-stupid-to-understand-science-try-religion-856499612-800x800

Below is a shiny video courtesy of Mr. Autin from his homage to El Guapo

die alone

shit glitter

homeless warehouse whore

Hope you’ve enjoyed this inspirational quote to begin your weekend. Until next time…
~Miss R

Twinkie Twinkie Little Star

Image

 

Whew! Luckily I was able to actually try a deep fried Twinkie in Las Vegas a few years ago. In case you were wondering it was close to inedible. Ugh. Fry-O-Lator oil directly from Fremont Street. One of those things you have to try though… sort of like the dare of tasting haggis. ‘Cause you can can can.

Still, with Hostess shutting their doors I feel like Woody Harrelson in Zombieland. 

Ah, another tiny death of childhood. Just a note: There are no longer ANY Twinkies still on the shelves here in Reno, nor Hostess cupcakes, Devil Dogs or Snowballs. Hope that Twinkies really do last forever. I can already envision these being stored in a cellar next to the fine wines and Dom Perignon.

 

~Miss R

I Rarely Leave The House…but When I Do

Been pretty quiet here recently, and have not commented on many blogs. Been busy herding 200+ cats. Which is nothing compared to what Admiral Painjoy has to accomplish. Painjoy being our Fearless Leader at Spanky’s Wine Bar at Burning Man.

Not that my weekends in Fallon (or as we call it here Falla-bama), data entry, checking up on dues, re-bolting dangerous rides, painting, etc etc  is an amusement park ride. Well, maybe if the coaster car went off the rails. Hmmmm off the rails….

So, I went out to lunch with my bestie on the 1st. She bought lunch, took me to our favorite dive bar afterwards, then the fab Mexican market, finally back to my house.

Then…. We decided to walk a block and a half to a wonderful (and pretty damned upscale) Irish pub call Ceol.

My wallet was pilfered there…. And returned to my purse. Did not even know until the 3rd when I checked my online bank account; wanted to see how much was taken out as they have overpaid me for two months by $100.00

Imagine my surprise (SUPPLIES!) to see the account cleaned out. Completely. Starting with a Burger King debit (fucking cheap-asses) then moving on to several different bank ATMs in Sparks.
Total theft: about $850.00… just about what I make in a month.

Now, I rarely do leave the house. There’s a reason the government pays me not to interact with other humans. The thieving part all took place in the town over (You know you live in Hell because you can see Sparks), Where I have been maybe 3x in 8 years. Yeah, I get around. Party on Garth.

Bank investigation did not begin until today. Apparently the financial institution of choice has no fraud employee hours over the weekend. When most people go out. Convenient eh?

My bestie spoke to her friend in the Reno DA’s office, during our lunch. Was told to not even bother filing a report; as it was under 1000.00 they probably would not even follow up. Niiiiice.

Filed a report today anyway. Online. Reno PD doesn’t have time to actually speak with you. Move along citizen.

Sent Ceol’s owners an email today demanding the bartender/server’s name for the date and times we were there. Had to be a customer or bartender or both to get my PIN.

On the bright side Michael Phelps can wrap another ribbon ‘round the old oak bong…

Yours in the 5th Circle,
~Miss R
-Certified Genius. Certified Dingbat. Certifiable.-

Addendum: Wrote three hysterical (no. really) radio ads for our camp and recorded them for BMIR -the Burning Man radio station. Population at Black Rock City/Burning Man (3rd largest city in Nevada for one week a year) is 60,000 beings this year.

Will post them as soon as I can find the correct embed code for the format. Derp.

Nerve Blocks and Other Fun Shit

marty feldman young frankenstein

Home from another visit to Dr Mengele. Note: not his real name.

His specialty is pain management which makes the mind wander to ‘why does every patient exiting the procedure suites appear worse than when they left the waiting room?’

Although I stayed at a Holiday Inn Suites six years ago I am not a doctor. Who am I to question such things?

Laying prone on the surgical table, panties pulled down, in a quite ignoble way,  to reveal my lower back and top of  a lily-white flat Irish-Hebraic ass he commenced sticking six shots of white hot Lidocaine into my lower back. To numb it.  What the fuck indeed.

Thankfully heeded mom’s advice and wore a pair of ‘wares with no holes or fading.

After said joy, the real fun commenced with the really long fucking scary needle. To probe the nerves. Playfully called a Paraspinal Facet Joint and Nerve Root Injection Block Test. When the real block is done the same procedure will be performed, but with IV sedation and the nerves will actually be burned off with a laser.

Damn, get to the point.
Okay, so I’m stretched out mumbling obscenities between gasps of pain and Mengele says ‘Hmmm seems as though you have a lot of pain up near where the scoliosis is prominent.’

‘Oh you must  have gotten the films back from the neurosurgeon’ I said.  He replied “No, look at the monitor’. So I did. Wow.

Doc says ‘Yeah, quite a spine curvature there.’
In a totally straight voice I stated…….‘What hump?’

He laughed so hard that the entire operation had to be halted for a minute.

Best fucking grin I’ve had in a week.

Be Well,

~Miss R

BLOGOCIDE!

Yep you read it here first.

Everything is gone for the last 3 weeks. Deleted. With such pain.

Yeppers. Even the PCH chances with Zombie Ed McMahon. You know I’m serious about cleaning out inbox stress when the retirement plan goes out the window. You think I’m kidding? Ha.

Show Me The Money Zombie Bitch

Tony is taking time off for a screenplay (know it’s about all of us –looks about furtively-). EG is skydiving naked on a bar (whoa! Big-ass parachute), Don is in litigation with some asshat who posted an open pic, Bearman is cartooning all of us, Michelle and Michelle are kicking asses and taking names; politically and personally. Red is chasing them down and nailing their asses to the literal floor, Hotspur is fucking with his outside  and inside life, Androgoth is being his wicked-ass self.

Rants has been deployed to Afghanistan.. again -send good thoughts!- and Loon is keeping us up to date from down under. Not to mention the fun from the Wombies in OZ… oh it goes on and I miss it.  Miss you all.

Got to say though: Shenanigans. Do over.

Almost Burn time for Miss R, and busy is the new sloth.

See you all soon!

welcome to fabulous black rock City

 ~Miss R

Hallelujah

First of all apologies to all of the wonderful writers out there, that I have not commented on recently. Hell, am not even capable to comment on the YoYo-Dydne Posts. Back up to 500 in the Inbox unopened.

If you’ve been following for a while I’ve been known to drop off the face of the earth for a week or so at a time. Still alive and kicking though.

The disease keeps me from leaving the house, interacting , answering the phone, working like a damned normal person and keeping the fear away.

So, despite the SSD diagnosis, and Mensa membership (genius and insanity remember?) my musical compass has always been right on.

Love Leonard Cohen. Also know that there are better covers of Leonard’s songs than his original Hallelujah .

Here is Damien Rice. One of my  favorite musicians, and his rendition of this beautiful song.

And I apologize once  again if I have not gotten to your post.

Be Well.

~Miss R

 

Murder! Mayhem! Sex! Free Beer!

I am so full of crap. Great headline though eh?
This is my “I am Bored and All Alone in Reno Birthday Survey”.

Please do steal and re-work it for your own glee and amusement.
I did.

you need a bat to the side of your head

Tired of all of those surveys made up by dumb and/or degenerate
high school kids?

How about one made up by a dumb and/or degenerate adult?

50 questions for the people who are a tad older

1. What bill do you hate paying the most?
Car insurance. Those blood suckers

2. Where was the last place you had a romantic dinner?
Um….. it’s been months and months. Probably TK’s house.

3. Do you regret losing your virginity to who you lost it to?
Who says I’m not a virgin? Sheesh. Lies and whispers I tell ‘ya.

4. If you could go back and change one thing what would it be?
Marrying Lucky Ex-husband Number Two. That dickhead.
Bitter, party of one? Your table is ready.

5. Name of your first grade teacher?
Abraham Lincoln

6. What do you really want to be doing right now?
Sitting on a beach in the sun reading a book while simultaneously being felt up by a hot erotic man. Oh yeah, since this is fantasy I’m drinking a glass of champagne as well.

7. What did you want to be when you were growing up?
A pathologist or a movie star

8. How many colleges did you attend?
Two; graduated from the second. could n longer afford the first.

9. Why did you choose the shirt that you have on right now?
What shirt?

10. What are your thoughts on gas prices?
Oh they’re too low. I must pay more.

11. If you could move anywhere and take someone with you where would it be?
Somewhere warm with the ocean nearby… South America maybe

I2. First thought when the alarm went off this morning?
Thank god that was a dream –shudder-. Nightmares are my life.

13. Last thought before going to sleep last night?
It’s cold in here and who stole my life?

14. Favorite underwear?
none

15. Favorite thing about the opposite sex?
eyes

16. What errand/chore do you despise?
cleaning up after other people i.e. my kid

17. If you didn’t have to work, would you volunteer?
Sure. For CIA pharmacological experiments.

18. Get up early or sleep in?
Well that depends if I actually sleep at all

19. What is your favorite cartoon character?
George Bush

20. Favorite thing to do at night with a guy /girl?
That is potentially the stupidest question I’ve ever come across. Pardon the terminology.

21. Have you found real love yet?
I did but of course I’m an idiot romantic

22. When did you first start feeling old?
In the early 90’s when I realized that my vinyl collection far outnumbered my CD collection

24. Your favorite lunch meat?
Unbaptized small child. Medium rare.

25. What do you get every time you go into Costco?
An empty wallet

26. Beach or lake?
Beach.

27. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual?
No. I just have a steep learning curve

28. Do you own property?
Technically my daughter is chattel and not property

29. Favorite movie you wouldn’t want anyone to find out about?
Oh yeah I’m gonna post that.

31. What’s your drink?
Club Soda and Bitters. Shaken not stirred.
32. Cowboys or Indians?
Huh? What happened to ‘grown-up survey?’

33. Cops or Robbers?
I always played the Serial Killer. Strangely there is no one around to confirm this

34. Who from high school would you like to run in to?
Hank Stratton. He was my best friend, which brings me to a favorite joke:
Why did god invent fat girls? So little gay boys would have friends.

35. What radio station is your car radio tuned to right now?
KRZQ or NPR. Don’t remember.

36. Norm or Cliff?
Norm. Cliff was not amusing just dumb. The same reason I’ve always detested I Love Lucy.

37. Grey’s or The Office?
Neither. Dexter or 60 Seconds to Disaster

38. Worst relationship mistake that you wish you could take back?
That should read mistakes plural, this is not an essay and I am not Dostoevsky

39. Do you like the person that sits directly across from you at work?
You mean the cat?

40. What famous person would you like to have dinner with?
Dead? Dorothy Parker. Living? Harlan Ellison.

41. Indoors or Outdoors?
For what –raises eyebrows- ?

42. Have you ever crashed your vehicle?
In 1982. Into a tree off of Laguna Canyon Highway. Driving my ’76 Camero. At 50+ MPH. Good times.

43. Have you ever had to use a fire extinguisher for its intended purpose?
Well it wasn’t really me, it was the driver in car in front of me. On the 91 freeway in the middle of the desert coming back from Palm Springs. Seems the engine was on fire. Damned disposal Hyundai

44. Last book you read?
The Lost by Daniel Mendelsohn. An account of the author’s search for family members who were killed by the Nazis in Poland. It’s funny, sad, intriguing and suspenseful.

45. Do you have a teddy bear?
Hell no.

46. Strangest place you have ever brushed your teeth?
The front yard. I don’t think that this is so strange though.

47. Somewhere in California you’ve never been and would like to go?
Camping along the Russian River

48. Do you go to church?
What is this ‘church’ you speak of?

49. At this point in your life would you rather start a new career or a new relationship?
Funny you should mention that as I have neither

50. How old are you?
19 or 39. I can’t remember…..Steely Dan or Jack Benny

Currently listening:
Small World Big Band
By: Jools Holland & His Rhythm & Blues Orchestra
Release date: 18 December, 2001

-NOTE- This was originally posted in 2007, and answers reflect that time in our/my glorious history. In particular I was 12 years sober, still had retirement accounts, and had not yet sprouted a gray hair; the Demon Seed was not yet into the full tilt boogie evil teen mode. Seems as though nothing else has changed.
Thanks to Max for re-posting this and reminding me. See her answers to my eccentric survey at the previous link.

Oh. my birthday is  actually November 12. Gift registry available at any Dollar Store near you.

D is for Dammit!

D is for Dammit

Dammit! While not as functional a word as another favorite of mine (rhymes with muck- and oh Dammit I just gave away the post for F) comes in handy.

On a daily, ofttimes hourly basis.

Da Beemer, my car of choice, causes the verbal spewing of the D word at least once a week. Which is how often I Drive the Damned thing.

Two Days ago I found out the power steering pump is leaking like a sieve. Which while better than the U-Joint going, which was my guess based on the replacement of said piece three times in the four years I’ve had Da car, is still out of my budget.

Muck that! Said I. Followed by Dammit. Followed by my driving the beast to Autozone and purchasing several bottles of power steering fluid.

Dammit was also a fabulous word to use today while standing in a snow storm and putting $20.00 worth of gas in Da car. Gas needle went from empty to half full; giving me the general idea that there may, in fact, be a problem.

Could be the 1986 technology (read gauges, parts, windows not rolling up or down, U-Joints, power steering pump, etc.) but really, I Doubt it. Clearly the tank only holds 10 gallons of gas.

It’s a popular car! Well, in 1986.

So I say Dammit to my friends who point out that mine is the only such model in Reno still on the road.

Wanted to post a picture of Elwood (Da Beemer’s proper name) here. Unfortunately the borrowed digital camera that is currently charging is still not charged. So I had to create a sub-par graphic using PhotoShop.

 DAMMIT!

 ~Miss R

Deranged Writers Enjoying Righteous Posts

As the President -and thus far only member of – Deranged Writers Enjoying Righteous Posts
(DWERP) it is time for our first announcement.

bloggers

Due to this Deranged Writer being out of town for three days, secluded in the boonies of an un-named Nevada town, the Inbox count climbed from 250+ to 782 unopened emails. Had a great time on the ranch raking and hauling sagebrush and oh those tumbling tumble weeds…. Lots of time with the horses and seeing friends.

National Security forbids the naming of this locality so it can only be revealed that there is limited cell service and no Internet hook-ups. Said town is  famous for being very close to the site of major nuclear testing in the 1950’s, resulting in the death of every single member of a Hollywood blockbuster to drop dead of cancer within 20 years of said production. Favorite cocktail at the local watering hole? A ‘Big-Ass Tumor on the Rocks.’ I had a double. Thought the sign read ‘Tuber’ and figured it was a local vodka.

So, besides spending time near this friendly, albeit somewhat barren city, your DWERP President was not only devoid of contact to the Interwebs, but also busy avoiding tap water contaminated with arsenic. Seriously. Just in case you’re wondering a river does run through it and many large and tasty ranch and farm vegetables are grown in the region.

Let’s  face it, if you were going to pick a place for nuclear testing Nevada is the place. Really, the drive from Reno to Las Vegas appears as though the entire state has been nuked anyway.

But I digress.

It’s the damned Inbox thing. I cannot keep up. The stress in simply SEEING all of that unopened email (98% of which are new Blog posts and Comments on Blog posts) is cause to reach for the Xanax AND Dalmane. It also keeps me from even attempting to write. Just knowing that there are so many other wonderful writers out there, that I cannot keep up with, dulls my creativity and fills me with guilt. It’s just impossible .

In an effort to keep DWERP alive, and yours truly out of  The Reno Home for The Cognitively Impaired I am deleting every post. A few will be kept to read. Miss R has enough addictions and does not need to add benzodiazepines to the list.

Apologies to all of you wonderful bloggers who have posted over the last 4 or 5 days. Will do my best to catch up.

Until then… DWERP ON!

~Miss R

Wow. Let’s Give Ourselves A Hand. Or A Keyboard.

Here’s a bow to each and every one of my fellow writers, bloggers and site admins that participated in yesterday’s Black-Out to protest SOPA and the  associated PIPA proposed bills.

The numbers really did make a difference and the legislation has been tabled. For now. Came across two articles earlier today stating that these items are not dead. Plans to embalm their corpses and try again in February are rumored to be in the works. Apparently in the hopes that bloggers and site owners have the attention span of an inbred feline.

In the interim here’s a bit of amusement. And many thanks to our community. Am glad to have been a part, and hope to have imparted information to those net citizens who were not aware of the true ramifications.

So let’s take a peek at the author of SOPA and his webpage… -wicked smile-

~Miss R

SECRETS REVEALED: The Truth behind Santa and Hanukkah Harry

First, little miss heart-as-black-as-onyx-cold-as-ice (No Styx references or I will find you and kill you) broke down and bought a Christmas turkey today. It’s only me this year (Half-A-Hebe aka my daughter, won’t be here until New Years) so that’s pretty retarded.

Note to Mensa: membership card in the mail

Also picked up cranberries from the produce section, extra butter, Mrs.Cubbisons bread cubes for stuffing, mushrooms, etc. Naturally when checking out of the store I realized the goddamned turkey was FRESH not frozen.

Good thing Hanukkah Harry comes on the 21st… Sorry Santa: no soup for you.

On the bright side I can drink champagne this Christmas Eve and not worry about the hideous Christmas morning hangover which normally throws me into heaves while slicing onions and gutting a large bird at 7:00 am Christmas morning.

I said Christmas turkey as opposed to holiday turkey. Sure, it’s not like we ate ham at Grandma Anna’s at Hanukkah, but still the turkey is considered a noble Christmas tradition.  Honestly I don’t care if you wish me Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Crazy Kwanzaa, Cool Yule or a Festive Festivus (you wouldn’t BELIEVE how great my stripper pole looks with the tinsel). It’s the time of year when we wish for magic and snow. Or in my case, growing up in Los Angeles, rain.

Seriously. Kids actually pray for RAIN on Christmas in SoCal. It’s actual weather.

Lucky Ex-Husband Number One is from Brooklyn. He couldn’t figure out how the hell kids could believe in Santa’s sleigh when there wasn’t any snow. Ever.

Of course he is Jewish, and I explained to him that keeping an oil lamp going for 8 days and nights in the middle of a barren desert pretty much fell into the same category.

Okay back to the topic: So you wanna kill your in-laws this happy holiday season!

No. That’s next week’s post.

 It’s ….Santa and Hanukkah Harry!

I got good news and bad news.

Hanukkah Harry DOES exist, as does Santa. True.

Santa brings a plethora (which is slightly more than a buttload) of gifts on one night. My friend Liqourstore Bear thinks that Santa isn’t real, but has his doubts. After all, how could our parents –constantly whining about upside-down mortgages, collection calls and no you can’t have that cereal it’s $4.99 a box- possibly provide gifts, wrapping paper, and batteries not to mention keep all of those goodies hidden from us?

As always the doubts stem from some jerk-ass kid at school whose parents are Jehovah Witness and don’t even celebrate the poor little bastard’s birthday, nevermind Christmas.

However, you will note that the stockings ARE stuffed by the chimney with care on Christmas morning.

As for Hanukkah yes we receive eight crazy nights of gifts. The problem is that we get the same shit that the Christian kids do. One night is socks, one underwear, etc, etc and hopefully on the final night you get what you REALLY wanted.

Don’t forget that one night you get gelt (the little chocolate coins) to use with your dreidal. No coincidence that gelt (for you goyim it’s Yiddish for money) sounds so much like guilt.

Don’t ask me how I know this.

So, the bottom line is this: kids get gifts at the holidays. It’s the HOLIDAY LAW. Doesn’t matter how broke your parents or grandparents (thanks for the socks grandma) are.

Logic follows (however non-linear) that Santa and Hanukkah Harry DO exist.

All you have to do is Believe…. And always use MasterCard.

~Miss R

p.s. Mom actually purchased the holiday meal. She doesn’t know yet. I have no money nor matchsticks to sell. And yes, I did use her Mastercard.

 

Seasonal Serial Killer Disorder

In the last month I’ve survived the end of the world, dad’s birthday (he’s been gone for 3 years now but it’s still painful as hell), a nasty epidural from The Butcher, my kid stressing over her freshman college midterms, my boyfriend packing to move out (even though I asked  him to), male pattern baldness and iron poor blood.

Alright, a few of these may be imagined. Or cured with Geritol. Geritol ad courtesy of Welk Family blog at Blogspot

Why is it that Fall begets stress? Similar to a Cinemafia conspiracy worthy of Oliver Stone.

Decided to do some scientific research to answer the burning question:

Why does the beginning of Fall initiate the beginning of Stress, Cold and Flu Season?

Besides the obvious immediate climate change here in Reno, Nevada.

Our state slogan: No Fall. No Spring. No Soup for you.

damned snow all winter..in the DESERT

Move to the Desert! The Weather is Here. Glad You're Not?

Here’s what I’ve come up with, based on said scientific research. A poll of random Reno-ites, taken over the period of no determinate time, geographical location in the city and particularly no control group. If you’ll note I said scientific and not the scientific method.

The Question posed to our random sampling of the citizens of Reno was:

Why Does Fall Instigate Your Inner Serial Killer?

Here are a few randomly chosen answers:

  1. All I can think about is the money my husband brings home and how we’ll pay for my Halloween candy, my birthday presents, other people’s birthday gifts as well of course, my Thanksgiving dinner, my Christmas gifts and of course what is going to be left after all of that? What about my bon-bons? Do you have my remote?
  2. What does that mean? Serial Killers? Get the hell away from me
  3. Well I don’t like the snow or driving in it. It brings all of the aliens up from Roswell and Rachel to Reno. Haven’t you noticed the radical lack of tin foil during the upcoming cold months?
  4. If you don’t get off this here property I’ll shoot ‘ya where you stand
  5. As a journalism graduate student at UNR my answer is, uh, ummm, you know like it’s just, ah, stressful.
  6. If you don’t get off this here property I’ll shoot ‘ya where you stand
  7. I LOVE the Fall and beginning of winter. And of course being from California originally we’re used to serial killers
  8. I don’t know. When my husband gets home I’ll ask him what we think.

There were at least 100 respondents and it was discovered that the small sample above was representative of them all.

In Conclusion:

Inhabitants refuse to embrace their Inner Serial Killer, which is sad and may explain the morbid obesity rampant in the city. The vast majority of citizens in Reno are armed with unregistered firearms and WANT to shoot you on sight. Civil Rights of any kind seem to have stopped eight to ten hours south of this place. Or perhaps 30 years. Do NOT send your kids to University of Nevada Reno. There is a ratio of 8 nutters to 10 non-nutters in our city’s populace.

So I’ve found the succinct answer to the question, seasonal stress, urge to kill and iron poor blood.

Move.

~Miss R