The "Caption This Wordless Wednesday Squirrel" Offensive

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The "Fetish Cooties... Yummm!!" Offensive

You know, after visiting Becca and Kelly's offensively fun blog, Let's Bitch, it made me realize that I am really getting sick of hearing people bitch about stuff that they find offensive!!

Seriously.

I mean, you know me, I don't like to complain. If something offends me, I just ignore it and go on with my life. I don't obsess over it or bitch about it or tell everyone how offended I am!

For instance, take these communists who get all offended and uptight about what I eat. Now, you tell me, why exactly do they care what I ingest and/or digest??

What drives them to want to decide for me what I should do with my intestinal tract???

Honestly, who the hell are they to want to limit my God-given right to eat cows, or pigs, or chickens, or rabbits, or dogs, or cats, or hedge hogs, or hamsters, or even imported delicacies that come from far off and exotic lands like North Korea:


Hey, don't look at me like that.

For all you know, miniature Chinese communists taste good!!

Have you ever eaten them?!

Well, to be honest, neither have I, but if I did choose to eat them, it's my business and not yours, so don't try to tell me otherwise!

I didn't always feel this way, though.

In fact, at one time I even became a vegetarian for awhile.

Yep, it's true, and it all started after Jesus took me with him to pick up some of the fresh ingredients he uses to make my favorite taco truck tacos.

That's when he first introduced me to his cousin, Pedro, who just happens to work at one of the many places where Jesus gets free taco meat:


Yeah.

I know.

Believe me, it really frigging grossed me out after I saw Pedro sneeze all over my tasty taco meat!!

Ugh.

He didn't even wipe it off, either!!

Well, and you know me, my imagination tends to get a bit carried away when offensive things happen. So, of course I started wondering if Pedro even changed those gloves after using the bathroom or what kind of weird fetishes Pedro might have and what exactly did Pedro do when he was all alone with my taco meat if he had weird fetishes and...

I know!!!!!

YUCK!!!!!!!!!!

The thought of Pedro getting freaky with my taco meat and leaving fetish cooties all over it really turned me off of food altogether, so, naturally, I became a vegetarian!

Of course, that didn't last very long.

Between you and me, I blame Jesus and his all natural, meat-free, vegetarian tacos:


OK, they didn't look that nasty and I mean, it's not that they tasted bad, per say, but for some reason they made me deathly ill and I ended up hospitalized!

Which sucked, because more than anything, I frigging hate doctors. Technically, they are communists themselves because they always want to tell me what to do!!

Oh, and, get this... while I was in there, I was force-fed hospital "meat" by those communist bastards and believe me, after I thought about all the cooties that live and multiply in a hospital, and where that "meat" they forced me to eat might have been, Pedro's fetish cooties in my meat-filled Jesus tacos didn't sound so bad, after all!!

It's a good thing it all happened the way it did, really, because I actually became quite the activist after my vegetarian near-death experience.

Seriously, I really want people to know the truth:


Of course, I have to kickbox the crap out of a lot of PETA protesters who show up everywhere I go. They try to limit my freedom to offend them and others with the truth about vegetarian tacos, but hey, that's OK!!

It's a free country.

Yep, they are free to let me to kickbox the crap out of them anytime they'd like.

:)

Please go visit Let's Bitch and say hi to Kelly and Becca, and then click over to humor-blogs.com and sneeze some cooties all over their taco meat!!

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The "I Hate Everything Today!!" Offensive

So, no offense but I am a bit grumpy and I just hate everything today!! (Well, everything but you, because you are my #1 fan, of course! ;)

I will admit, I may have a *bit* of a problem controlling myself when I get grumpy. Once in a while I do some very not-nice things to try to make myself feel better.

Like one time I did this to my hubby's car after he forgot to put the lid down on the toilet:



I also did this to my neighbor's mailbox when she didn't wave at me, but only one time:


Oh, and one time I did this to our house when I was too grumpy to clean it:

Oh, and there were those two times when I got so mad at the tourists who come here and drive so frigging slow and never tip anyone and wear socks with their stupid sandals and think it is cute to try to pet the buffalo, that I did this:

Stupid $%^!ing tourists!

Hey, don't defend them, it is all their fault that it happened twice!!

Well, maybe it is a bit my fault.

OK, so maybe I made up the whole tourists pissing me off thing and I just enjoyed blowing up Yellowstone.

Hey, I can't help it if explosions are fun or that I am so good at creating them!!! Or that Yellowstone blows up so nicely.

Hooyah!!

Anyhoo... like I was saying, sometimes I just can't control myself when I get grumpy and today is actually one of those days. In fact, I am even grumpier today than I was on all those days combined!!

OK, I know what you are thinking: "Chelle B., you are always so cheery and have such a rosy disposition, much like Mary Poppins! Why in the world are you so grumpy?!".

Well, since you asked, and since I know you are the only one who really and truly cares, I am sooooo very, very, VERY grumpy today because I didn't sleep at all last night.

Because I miss my favorite, most bestest and most comfy pillow ever.

Because my not-nice-and-very-mean hubby stole it from me and gave it to the stupid, @#%^! dog yesterday!!!

Yeah.

:*(

Why would he do that?!

Because he is not-nice-and mean, that's why!!

He said it was just because my pillow was 1,200 years old and it weighed like 50 lbs more than when I bought it because it was full of dust mites and those were making me wake up with my eyes watering and my nose stuffy every day so he felt like he had no choice but to get rid of it and give it to the dog!

Yeah.

:*(

Now you tell me, does this look like a face that deserves or would appreciate the comfort of my most comfy and favorite pillow:

Of course not!!!!

Heh, she isn't even that cute in real life, it is just an act for the camera. She is really just mean, like he is. She also bites me when no one is looking.

Yeah.

:*(

Thanks, I feel sorry for me, too!!

I mean, I don't want to do stuff like blow up Yellowstone, or run cars into poles, or smash mailboxes, or destroy houses!

I just want my $%^!ing pillow back!

I don't even care if it smells like dog now or if it is crawling with a whole colony of these:


Really, I mean they aren't that gross!

I can't even see them so why would I care if I inhale their nasty carcasses and fecal waste at night while I drool on my favorite pillow?!

And what do I care if I am allergic to them and they are killing me slowly?!

Heh, I can live with my eyes watering until they practically bleed and my nose getting so stuffy that I can't breathe all day! It is all worth it for my bestest, most favorite feather pillow and the comfort it brings, dammit!!

Ugh.

So then... to add insult to injury, my not-nice hubby comes home last night with not one, but SIX new feather pillows AND a new feather comforter AND a new mattress AND a new headboard in a pathetic attempt to make me feel better about taking my pillow away:

I know! What a jerk, huh.

Believe me, I ask myself all the time why I take such abuse from him! I must just be sick because secretly I think I enjoy it or something.

Anyhoo... I pretended to be all happy but in the middle of the night after he was asleep, I snuck downstairs to steal back my beloved mite infested, smells-like-a-dog, most favorite pillow, and guess what?!

It was no where to be found!!

I mean, the dog was there sleeping peacefully on the couch where she isn't supposed to be, but I didn't even care because MY pillow was just... gone!!

Yeah.

:*(

Heh, for a minute, I actually thought maybe it missed me too, and had crawled upstairs to find me, but, noooo. It was gone forever.

When I looked outside this morning, this is what I see in the yard:

Yeah.

:*(

Well, you know me! I may take the good things lying down, but not this sort of thing, so as soon as my hubby left for work, I sold that stupid little not-worthy-and-not-so-cute-in-real-life-pillow-shredding dog to this guy:

That's right!

I don't feel guilty, either!

He said he wanted her just for a pet, but I think he really runs an evil laboratory and he will use her for all sorts of inhumane testing of toxic dog toys or something!

I hope so.

She deserves it because... it is all her fault that I miss my favorite pillow and can't steal it back, dammit.

Yeah!!

:*(

You can help cure my grumpiness and help me forget my beloved pillow by visiting:

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The "Tastes Like Chicken!" Offensive

I myself prefer using a Bowtech compound bow with a 100 grain Montec broadhead at about 30 or 40 yards, but hey, that's just me!

....Kangaroo cull methods offend animal lovers. Australian animal protection groups questioned on Monday a new government guide for the humane killing of kangaroos that recommends "forcefully swinging" the heads of young animals against a vehicle tow bar.

A proposed code of conduct for shooting young kangaroos, called joeys, and smaller wallabies released by the Department of Environment also recommended a single close-range shotgun blast.

This post is slowly marinading in a sweet onion sauce over at humor-blogs.com

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The "Glowing Testicles from Hell" Offensive

My little puss puss may never recover...

OK, stop right there. I know what you're thinking....

After my last post about the perverted nun and her equally perverted neighbor, your mind is probably still in the gutter!!! I can imagine the mental picture in your head right now. I forgive you though, because it was really my fault for putting your thoughts there to begin with.

Unfortunately, this story isn't like that at all.

Honestly, I wish it was!

No, this one is a completely true and incredibly sad tale about my actual pussy cat, the once sweet and lovable Mister Schmoopy Doopey as pictured below:

Yes, I know. You can't help but fall in love with him too, huh?! Well when you hear what happened to him, you will surely feel my pain....

It all started when Mister Schmoopey Doopey grew a bit and started spraying odoriferous indications of his 'blossoming manhood' all over my house and, naturally, as a responsible cat owner and faithful watcher of Bob Barker on The Price is Right, I decided the time had come to do the right thing and get him neutered.

So, while the cleaning crew came in, I took my sweet little Mister Schmoopy to the local vet and after a rather quick inspection, he agreed that it was indeed time for the big "N". He assured me that it was an easy and painless procedure and that my kitty cat wouldn't even miss his furry little testicles.

Well, I wasn't easily convinced at first. I mean, being a woman, I couldn't really know for sure but I had some serious concerns because Mister Schmoopey so enjoyed spending hours and hours grooming his new found manhood, and I didn't want him to end up psychologically damaged when he realized they were just... gone!

And he is pretty smart, so what if he rejected me because of it? I didn't think I could live with that. My vet said he understood completely, and told me he had the perfect solution.

He gave me this pamphlet for a brand new product that had just came on to the market:

Yes, I thought it was a brilliant idea, too!!!

Mister Schmoopy is an indoor/outdoor kitten cat and being black like he is, I always worried about him being hit by a car at night while he prowled the neighborhood. I had tried the glow in the dark collars, but he kept hanging himself on fences and was down to only one or two lives left, so this seemed like the perfect solution! I made my mind up then and there, and was feeling confident that it was the right decision.

The cost was a little high, though, so before I could have the procedure done, I had to take a second job working 18 hour shifts at the local potato factory. He was worth it though!

Not only did I earn enough to pay for Mister Schmoopy's operation, but I made some international friends and learned a whole lot of dirty Spanish words to boot. Yep, those will come in handy for when the Taco truck lady is taking too long to get me my burritos!!

Anyhoo...I was soooo happy when I finally had enough saved up to make the appointment for his 'big day', but looking back, I see now that I probably should have made the call to the vet in private. Mister Schmoopy's IQ had apparently expanded exponentially during all those days and nights I had left him alone with nothing but PBS on the TV to keep him company!

I sensed by his response that he knew what was going on:

That whole week before his big day, he refused to come inside. I had to put raw meat out just to get him to come close enough and even then I had to use my tazer to calm him down enough to get him in his little cat carrier and into the car!

He recovered quickly, though, like he always does after I tazer him and we were on our way!

I didn't think much of it at the time, but as we went down our street, I noticed the other male cats in the neighborhood acting rather strangely, I think he may have told them what was going on at our house:

Weird, huh? Some of them are still up there to this day!

Anyhoo...everything went fine and the operation was a success, or so I thought. My vet assured me that when he healed up he would be the sweet, lovable Mister Schmoopey Doopey I'd always known and loved and we'd live happily ever after with him sleeping on my head at night and grooming his manhood during the days.

Well, my vet was wrong, wrong, wrong!! He couldn't have been more wrong. The Mister Schmoopey I knew and loved died that day on the operating table and a monster puss puss was born in his place!

I really should get a lawyer and make that bastard pay for what happened next, yet none of us could have predicted just how badly things would turn out, or the price we'd all pay for the vet's little mistake.

At first, I thought Mister Schmoopey was understandably just a little mad at me, but I trusted that once he healed and realized that I had generously opted for the extra large replacement testicles for his grooming pleasure, he'd get over it and we'd be even closer than before!!

Boy was I mistaken.

The first time I let him outside he limped bowlegged to the garden and stayed there for three whole days, making these awful noises and staring at me with a bone chilling, vengeful stare:

On the fourth day, instead of coming in to make nice, he disappeared completely, and I thought he had run away!! I panicked and plastered the neighborhood with missing Mister Schmoopey reward posters, alerting the neighbors to keep their eyes out... especially at night... for my kitten cat and his brand new and not cheap glowing nards!

Being the only cat in the area to have them, I was sure if nothing else, they would lead to his recovery!!

Well, it wasn't long before I started to realize that perhaps Mister Schmoopey hadn't really run away but was intentionally staying hidden from my view. I began finding little clues that he was still around, like deep claw marks all over my car doors, porch railings and lawn gnomes.

He was just getting out his frustration, I told myself, and soon it would all blow over and he'd be back to sleeping on my head at night again and grooming his manhood all day.

If only I'd recognized the other signs he'd been leaving.....

You can't blame me, I mean I just didn't want to think he was capable of such evil!! I felt safer convincing myself that it was the neighbor's angry and freakish looking teenage son who was leaving the trail of death around my yard.

I kept records, just in case it ever became an issue for the courts. I warn you, the pictures are graphic:

OK, I know, you don't have to say it.

The signs were all there that it was not the neighbor's freakish son, but was probably the vengeful work of my once sweet and loving Mister Schmoopy.

I guess love blinds a cat lover though, you know?! Who wants to think their little kitten is capable of such carnage??

What frightened me at first was how he killed so indiscriminately. Mice, birds, squirrels, frogs, dogs, deer...you name it, they all suffered from his wrath. It didn't take the neighbors long to figure out who was behind it all, too, since he'd pile the bodies on my porch or in my yard, or if I left my window open, on the front seat of my car!

Yes, I should have been clued in that it was directly related to my Mister Schmoopey and his little operation when the few male cats who had found the courage to come out of the big tree began not only turning up dead, too, but they showed extra disturbing signs of torture and mutilation on their furry carcasses.

I'll spare you the pictures, but let's just say that they all had their manhood forcibly removed in rather horrific and stomach turning sorts of ways! It really panicked ALL the male residents of my neighborhood, let me tell you! What made it worse was none of their missing reproductive parts were ever found. I don't even want to imagine what he did with them. The thought of it only makes me shudder!!

Anyhoo...only one cat that we know of to this day survived the vicious attacks, but he had always been the biggest and toughest bastard on the block anyway so we weren't really surprised that he could live through something like that.

It took the fight right out of him though, and he's never been the same since the incident...

I tried to bring over a get well soon kitty basket of treats and wanted to tell his owner that he might want to consider the glow in the dark implants to try to bring his once well endowed, bad ass, prize fighting kitty out of the mass depression he was in, but I guess he held a grudge and didn't want to talk to me. He just slammed the door in my face.

OK, I probably shouldn't have carved my response to his rudeness into the new vinyl siding on his house, but I was a little upset myself over the whole ordeal by this point!! Who could blame me?

Anyhoo...before long, because of the seemingly endless supply of innocent victims, we had no choice but to turn the little community park where all the kids played into this:


It's just awful, I know! What's worse is my once friendly neighbors began turning on me, which I felt was a bit unfair!! They really should be angry at my vet, he is the one who did this to us!!

I mean, I am a victim here, too.

I'm the one who had to quit my job so I could spend all of my time searching for my Mister Schmoopey Doopey, and I actually thought I spotted him the other night carrying something in his mouth that appeared to be little furry, bloody 'revenge trophies' under my house... but it was dark so I'm not sure it was really him.

It didn't look like the Mister Schmoopey I used to know and love, but it somewhat resembled his former self:

Soooo... now you understand why I'm in therapy over it all. I've thought about just giving up and putting my house up for sale, but if I don't find him soon it will be foreclosed on anyway.

I just can't give up hope though!! I just know someday my Mister Schmoopey Doopey will come back to me to sleep on my head all night and spend his days lounging on the couch happily grooming his enormous glow in the dark prosthetic manhood!!!

I just know it. I live for that moment now...that little glimmer of hope is what keeps me going. I have to cling to it, it's all I have, really.

Hey, thanks for listening, it really helps to have your support. Oh, and if you happen to be in my area and see him, will you please let me know?? I'm still offering that reward for his return...although I can't guarantee I can pay it all at once... or at all really at this point....but you understand, right??

:p

Chelle B.

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The "Greener Pastures Out West" Offensive

I truly live in paradise...well, I did...

I just love living in this part of Idaho!! I mean look at that picture, you know it makes you jealous, I mean who wouldn't love living here??

Can't you just smell the fresh air, pine cones and deer scat??

Yep, people from all over the planet pay small fortunes to spend just a few days in my backyard, pretending that they are cowboys and cowgirls, that's how great it is.

I even love it in the wintertime, it's just as beautiful here during the winter in it's own die-from-exposure-in-under-ten-minutes-wintery-wonderland sort of way:

Unfortunately.... I'm the only one at my house who loves it this time of year and this winter my perfect little happy-I-live-in-an-Idaho-postcard life came suddenly crashing down around me like never before!

I don't know how it really happened...but I blame the friggin' dogs. I knew we shouldn't have gotten dogs!!

OK, I know, that sounds harsh...but it seems like it all started the other day when our two canines decided they didn't want to live outside anymore.

I can't imagine why, the snow wasn't that deep and it's not like they are hairless chihuahuas (well, one of them is, but still!!).

Anyhoo...my nightmare began when they took to loudly voicing their opposition to all things Idaho, well at least to all things Idaho outdoors.

It went on incessantly day and night for about a week until naturally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I finally opened the door to sweetly and gently tell them they were 'just fine' out there in that tiny bit of snow we had:

But..they were both apparently Malibu Barbie's in their last lives and despite my encouragement, were still just not happy with their doggie lives here in Idaho....





Being the dog lover that I am, I sent my son out to play with them, hoping if he kept them company maybe they would stop their bitching and whining and let me get back to my jug of Jack Daniels and reruns of General Hospital!!

Of course, it wasn't long after I locked the deadbolt and forgot about all three of them, that my own progeny turned on me!!

Can you believe it?

Only six hours later, and there he was, with his little blue face pressed to the window, begging for me to either let him in or give him the keys to the car so he could warm up.


Now, I am not one of those mothers who wants my boy to grow up to be a sissy man who cries over Dr. Phil commericals like his daddy, so I tried my best to encourage him to just make the best of what mother nature had to offer him out there. I emphasised my point by pulling the curtain closed and turning up the TV.

Despite my best efforts, it was obvious that he just wasn't willing to embrace his manhood and still insisted that I let him in.

Eventually his cries for help alerted our only neighbor who called to wake me up, and I had no choice but to go help my kid get back on his feet so he could enjoy playing in the snow some more, while I went in and went back to bed.

(I'm glad I put that soundproofing up in my bedroom!!)

Anyhoo...after a few more days of the dogs and the kid whining and crying and begging to come in, I finally sobered up and realized that I was completely out of liquor. I knew I would have to leave the house anyway....so I decided that I would take everyone on a little road trip to warmer pastures way out west where the kids and dogs could get a break from the snow (and I could gamble at an Indian Casino or two along the way, hooyah!).

So, I called and made reservations for us to stay at the Super 8 a few hours away in Boise. I don't usually splurge like that, but I decided we were worth it this time.

Of course the night before our big trip, the first real storm of the year hit. Just our luck!

That next morning, we were even more determined to go, so finding the car was our first obstacle. It's a small car so it wasn't easy to find before the storm:

And as you can imagine, a good snow storm here in Idaho will leave it's mark, not to mention a black eye and a few bruises, so getting out of the house to even find the car was actually the first obstacle.

Well, after trying all the doors and windows, I crawled out through the chimney and walked out to where I thought I knew the car was, but after a couple of hours of going in circles I gave up trying to locate it and eventually just went back in and dug a tunnel to it from the front door.

Heh, luckily it's a 4 wheel drive, so I had no problem climbing my way up and out and onto the road.

Of course we were so excited to be getting away from it all, even though it was a little hard to see the road at first...

Growing up in Wyoming, I had driven in much worse conditions though, so it was no problem for me to navigate the highway in this weather, expertly steering with one hand while I simultaneously tuned the radio, put on my makeup and read a book with the other one.

I made a few cell phone calls in between doing all that, too, to let my neighbor know that we wouldn't be back for a few days and to ask him if he'd keep the sidewalk shoveled for us.

We have great neighbors like that in Idaho, you know.

I wondered why I couldn't get ahold of him, until I caught sight of a colorful blur flying past me on the road.

I had forgotten that my neighbor, Frank, was one of those people we call 'snowbirds' who live here for the good weather and head to places like New Mexico, Arizona and Tijuana for the summers. For some reason, he had been procrastinating about leaving this year, he said he'd never actually been in the snow and I kinda think he wanted to know what he was missing....but it looked like the cabin fever had finally given him the incentive to head south:

I waved at him as he flew past me, happy to see that he was finally on his way, but I don't think he noticed me at all!

That was OK, he didn't get too far before I actually caught up with him and to my surprise, found him wandering aimlessly next to the road, his sled and dogs no where to be found!

Being the good neighbor that I am, I stopped a few times and offered to help him, but he became more and more insistent that I "piss off and leave him the hell alone!!"... so eventually I just gave up and put him out of my mind.

We'd work things out when spring came, I told myself.

Yet despite his wishes, I saw him one last time along the way... and let me tell you, it wasn't pretty.

It's not his fault, I mean, the snow can really mess with your mind and make you hallucinate, (and between you and me, he never was 100% stable to begin with...) so I just pretended not to notice him up there on the snow hill screaming at the top of his lungs that he was the 'King of Tijuanaville'...

Poor Frank.

I really do wish him the best, and I hope someone finds him before he dies of exposure.

Anyhoo... it turned out that I wasn't too far from insanity myself, because about five hours into the trip, the sky cleared up and the sun started shining on that crystallized, pure white blanket of snow all around me, and let me tell you, there is nothing worse than being snow blind.

Nothing.

It can really mess with your vision!

At one point, I looked out my side window and I could have sworn I saw this:

Now, I know for a fact that the Japanese tourists only come here in the spring and summertime, so it had to be a hallucination brought on by snow blindness.... or maybe something I drank!!

And, it only got worse after that.

Things really snowballed from there (no pun intended!).

I guess I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, because first we ran out of road... and then we ran out of gas and eventually ended up walking for about four days in the blinding snow!!

Lucky for us that I came prepared, though, with an emergency kit that had all the stuff we needed, like food, water and toilet paper....but I think I should have put a compass or a GPS system in there.

My sense of direction is always thrown off in a snow storm!!

Thank god I have my laptop and my cell phone, though, because it really helps keep me from losing hope! Believe it or not, right now, I am actually writing this post as we are wandering in the snow, still trying to find our way to the Super 8!!

Isn't technology amazing?!

I really think we must be close now, though, in fact, I think this is a good sign that we are close to Boise, if I remember right I think I read that they built a UN memorial of some sort just outside of town.

I'll snap a picture of it for you:

That must be what that is, right??

Well, anyhoo... it shouldn't be long now and I'll have a signal on my phone and a wireless connection for my laptop so I can get this posted to my blog...I know you all will want to enjoy my little winter vacation story!

Oh...and hopefully Frank has been rescued and regained his sanity so I can give him a call and ask him to do me a little favor.

In our rush to get out the door we kinda sorta forgot about a couple of things....

Ah well, I'm sure they'll survive...and if not, I think I'll just get a cat instead!!

They are a lot less needy.

:p

Chelle B.

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The "My Christmas Charity Lesson" Offensive

Donating to charity this Christmas changed my life!!

You know those ads you always see, with the sad little children digging through trash heaps in third-world slums, just begging you with their big pleading eyes to "send them just 30 cents a day so that they can have clean water, food and a flu shot"?

Ugh.

Yep, I hate those, too!

Who needs that sort of guilt trip?? I hate feeling guilty!!!

Well, anyhoo... after meeting with my tax guy and learning of the real benefits to donating to charity, this spring I decided maybe it was time to shrug off my selfish attitude about it, and let me tell you.... it literally changed my life!





The hard part was deciding on which charity to give 30 cents a day to!!

They had to be worthy and prove to me that they weren't going to squander my donations on frivolous items for the children I was sponsoring, like education or something!

Honestly!

Just who would you and I import to do our lawns, wash our windows, raise our children and give us pedicures if we didn't keep some third-world people desperate and illiterate on this planet??

Well, anyhow, I had to put that out of my head as I told myself that I could live with just saving just one of them, but who to save?? Which charity was worthy of me and my 30 cents a day??

Well, I got my answer and fate smiled upon me when this came in my email:

Now I don't usually click open email links, I learned my lesson on that business once when I opened up a website that was nothing more than a naked-flesh-of-all-kinds freak show. I spent three whole days locked in my room learning about various fetishes involving all sorts of inanimate objects!!

Ugh!! I swore I'd never do that again...

But this one was different, somehow...something about it cried out to me "Get your checkbook out, Chelle, this is THE ONE!"

It is run by an organization called The National Association for the Advancement of Edible Creatures.

They opened my eyes to innumerable horrors happening every day around this country of ours!! Far worse than I imagined:

***Warning - not for those who recently ate!!***

Ugh. I know!!

Can you believe it? I mean, did you know that is how we get our food??!!

Well, after a visit to their site, I knew that I could never look at my dinner the same way again!

So after I sent them my first 15 cent check (Well, heh, you know, I prorated it since I opened the email at noon...), I decided I would no longer support the various meat mafias operating around this country.

That's right. I made up my mind right then and there that I would just have to hunt my own food from that moment on!

When I told my husband, he seemed very supportive!!

He is an avid bow hunter, and often takes month-long trips to remote regions and has a whole room full of exotic, endangered and extinct animal trophies to show for it.

It is quite the collection!!

He comes from a long line of prolific hunters, and the talent runs deep in his genetic pool so it isn't surprising, really. His great-grandmother was a world champion prairie dog hunter:

His grandpa was a world champion buffalo hunter back in the day, too:

He even has an uncle who holds the current world record for trophy fish hunting!!

No, seriously, those pictures were not Photo-shopped!

So, as you can see, I was definitely in luck, having married into this bloodline. :)

My sweet, endangered-animal slaying hubby even volunteered to take me shopping for the gear I needed... although... it was pretty obvious right away that we had different ideas for what clothing was suitable for me to go hunting in...his idea of camo for me seemed a little different than what I had in mind:

But after my crying, and screaming, and throwing a fit at the store, he finally stormed off to wait in the car and let me have my way. I eventually chose this gorgeous ensemble:

Isn't that tres chic? Oh! Haha...duh! You probably can't even see me there, can you?! Well that's the point, I guess!! :)

Well anyhoo....to make a long story short, after some more crying and fit-throwing, we found just the right bow for me, and he took me to the range where I shot a couple arrows and ducked just in time to miss a few that he misshot my way.

We had to go back a few times so I could practice shooting and ducking, but once I could actually hit within three feet of the target, we were off for our very first hunting expedition that next morning!

It was soooo exciting!! I had never done anything like it before.

And, unfortunately, I never will again (at least not legally). My privileges were rather unfairly stripped away from me by the state of Idaho that very first day, can you believe it?!?!

Ok.... I admit that maybe I needed just a little more experience and, yes, just maybe my judgment and eyesight aren't as good as they should be, but it really wasn't entirely my fault!

I mean, I can't help that the poor melon-headed bastard that I mistook for food decided to go hunting the same day I did and happened to walk right past me making moose calls!!

You tell me... what kind of complete idiot walks through the forest, looking like that and sounding like a moose??!!

He needed to be shot if you ask me...

The trial is over, so I can share the crime scene photos with you all:

*** Warning again - not for those who have weak stomachs! ***

(It was a good shot, though, wasn't it?? I think so!)

The doctors said he should be able to speak normally in a few years. But between you and me, I think that he really needs to find a new hobby or do something about that big head of his, or else accidents like this will just keep happening to him!!

I know what you're thinking...."screw that idiot, what about YOU Chelle B.??!! Are YOU alright??" Heh, well thank you for your support but don't you worry about me. I had a fabulous team of lawyers, a shady judge and I didn't even serve a day in jail!

I did lose my hunting privileges though, so that sucks. :(

Anyhoo....so I just decided to give up meat altogether. It is just not worth the stress of going to trial (or the financial burden of paying off judges)!!

It all worked out for the better though, I am now a proud, militant vegetarian, and I must say...this new lifestyle choice has been amazing! I mean, it feels soooo good and guilt-free to no longer put animal flesh into my body....and just look at the new me, wouldn't you say that the vegetarian lifestyle was a good choice?

*** Last Warning - oh, forget it! ***

YES, I KNOW. I AM WAY HOT NOW!!!

And I owe all of it to my tax guy, the NAAEC and that big-headed bastard that I shot. Well, and the judge I paid off, too, I suppose.

Oh well, hey, take it from me, you really should think about finding your own charity, too, it could really change your life like it did mine!!!

Merry Christmas!

Chelle B.

:)

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The "Not ALL Dogs Are Allowed" Offensive

..... The miscue apparently occurred when the city commissioned a local artist to make a new sign for the dog park entrance. It is somewhat unclear why, but the words "small dog" were etched into the welcome message on it by mistake.

"It's quite a beautiful sign; it really is," Reiblich said. "We think it probably means it's a small park, not that it's for small dogs."

In any event, plans were made to quickly slap some duct tape over the "sm" in the offending word, leaving only the "all" — and earning the approval of just about everyone.

But the parks people decided to take no chances, and by midday Friday, the new sign was completely bundled and roped in tarp. While it awaits the needed spelling change, paper fliers pasted all over inform the pooches and their people in no uncertain terms:

"The Jacobs Dog recreation is open to ALL dogs regardless of race, breed, color or SIZE!" (SIZE is underlined, too, just in case.)

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Um...aren't they forgetting something here?? This would never fly if it were non-canines.

I'd be demanding to know if they are planning on building a separate park for the gay dogs???

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