Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Okay, kids. I know it's been FOR-EV-ER since I posted, and truth be told, with the whole move and everything, I'm still not convinced I have the energy to post . . . HOWEVER, I was up late last night watching late night television (welcome to the world of the newly unemployed), and I somehow happened upon My Strange Addiction on TLC.

Holy Ramona and Beezus!

I totally lucked out, because I had to have caught the most interesting episode, possibly ever . . . and by interesting, I mean interesting like Faces of Death, interesting. I mean, this shit was bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s! I've seen some pretty crazy stuff in my day, but I'm pretty sure my mouth was gaping open in horror for the duration of the show. I just couldn't tear myself away, even though it might have been worse than that terrible email my good friend Shy (ol' dependable Shy, who always sends me shit I can never quite erase completely from my brain) sent me (with pictures, of course), about texting whilst driving . . . and that email was bad. You're just going to have to take my word for it

Okay, so enough of the dramatic introduction. This woman's strange addiction was . . . (drumroll please) . . . she eats her dead husband's ashes. Close your mouth; I'm being serious. She. Eats. Her. Dead. Husband's. Ashes. Like, wets her finger, then rolls it around in the bag full of ashes in his urn, then licks every last morsel off of her finger until it's shiny clean. The worst part? She said that they taste like rotten eggs . . . but that hasn't stopped her yet. She samples the Fun Dip about six times a day, and she has already consumed a pound of his ashes; only five pounds remain. Sick yet? I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. See for yourself . . .




. . . As effing disgusting as this story is, I think it's really sad. This woman is obviously unbalanced. I mean, I love my hubs; I really do. And I'm sure that if I [God forbid] lost him in some sort of freak accident/health emergency, that I would probably go off the rails for a little while. But I'm pretty sure I wouldn't carry his ashes around with me everywhere I went. I definitely wouldn't cook meals for him; I barely do that now! The thing is, I actually feel kind of sorry for her . . . but I just can't wrap my mind around how she got there. I do understand not wanting to brush off your husband's ashes like random dirt or dust, but to eat them? That would never even occur to me.

I just had to share that tasty little morsel with you. I hope to be back on track with my daily posts sooner than later. There definitely hasn't been a shortage of things to talk about! I'll check in soon, I promise. xo

Amended: Casey Anthony and the Silence of the Lamb

*This article was amended on 07.01.2011*

Okay, folks. I'm going to ask that you briefly indulge me - perhaps I'm a little slow on the reuptake, but I'd like to chat about the Casey Anthony trial. This story hits super close to home for me because I was actually living in Orlando in 2008, when Caylee "went missing." For those of you who don't know, let me tell you - the whole city practically shut down. There were search parties, billboards; they dragged the lakes. Everybody was looking for this poor little girl. I'm pretty sure that as all of the bizarre details slowly started to filter in, I decided rather quickly that fun-loving Casey Anthony was guilty as sin. Not because of the trashy pics that surfaced, with her sandwiched between various men, grinning in anticipation of the train she was [no doubt] getting ready to pull. (Nope, she's an adult. If she wants to spend her life immersed in the Orlando nightlife (if you can really call it that), that's her business; I'm not judging.) I think what made up my mind was the dead body smell wafting from her trunk, and all of the other sketchy things, like the reports of the nonexistent Zanny the Nanny (um...Casey lived at home with her parents...how could she possibly afford a nanny), and the shovel Casey allegedly borrowed from the neighbors. Um...suspicious, much? There was just something fishy to me about the thought of a mother of a 3 year old who allegedly misplaced her child . . . and then borrowed a shovel from her neighbor. But what do I know?

Now flash forward to the present and the details are not getting any clearer. But can I just say - I'm SO tired of the damn Anthonys! Those enabling parents need to be ashamed of themselves. It's not my job to sit here and decide whether George Anthony touched Casey in her no-no place . . . but between you and me, I'm not buying it. What victim of sexual abuse by a family member continues to reside in said family member's house, even after reaching the legal age of independence? Nope. Doesn't happen. Those girls grow up with one foot out the door, poised and ready for the first opportunity to escape. I'll tell you another thing they don't do - raise their daughter in that same household, with the same abuser. Again, it just doesn't happen . . .and what about this cockamamie story about drowning in the pool? I don't know about you, but I've seen enough episodes of CSI and Law & Order to know that if someone's cause of death is drowning . . . there should probably be some, I don't know, WATER in their lungs? Last time I checked, that's how people drown. Their lungs fill with water and they die. It's not rocket science . . . if they can determine what you ate for dinner on the day of your death, I'm pretty sure they can figure out if there's some water in your lungs. Maybe the Orange County MedicalExaminer should check out this informative little link. That, or catch up on all of the CSI episodes that have evidently gone unwatched on the dvr. I'm just saying. *Okay, so I guess I didn't take decomp into consideration. I can admit when I'm wrong; but I'm sticking to my guns on this point. I find it super difficult to believe that Caylee Anthony accidentally drowned in the family pool. Again, I grew up in Central Florida. There are thousands of houses with pools in the backyard, and sadly, children die from accidental drownings in those same pools every year. Their parents don't go to jail; they mourn the loss of their innocent loved one. Had Caylee died accidentally by drowning in the pool, their first instinct would have been to call 911, and try to save that poor baby. It definitely wouldn't have been to bury her body in the woods. That's all I'm sayin about that.*

Here's the thing: what really gets my goat is that even after all of that, after all of her mudslinging and accusatory crap . . . they're still on Casey's side. Pathetic Cindy Anthony just can't let go and realize that her precious, shrew of a daughter is actually a pathological narcissist. It enfuriates me that she had the nerve to get on the stand and perjured herself (my opinion) about the internet chloroform research. Pa-lease. STOP LYING. No wonder your child grew up to be a selfish, murdering asshole. Because you're probably always there to pick up the pieces and duct tape (pun intended) them back together for her. Not to mention, it takes one to know one. Cindy Anthony has been lying for years - don't forget, she tried to correct her initial statement about the smell of decomp in the trunk to "stale pizza." Stale pizza? Really?! Uh. Yikes. Unless one of the toppings was human flesh, there is no reason a stale pizza should smell like a decomposing body and DEATH.

Listen, I know I'm not judge, jury or executioner, but let's face facts. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's probably a duck . . . and she very likely killed her baby duckling. I'm not saying it was intentional - I don't necessarily think it was. What I do think is that Casey is a selfish brat and didn't want to miss a night out at Club Roxy, or whatever debaucherous hot spot happened have free martinis until 11 that night, so it was easier to slap some duct tape on that poor, sweet girl's mouth and toss her in the trunk.

I honestly have no idea how this is all going to end. One thing I am sure of is that the PWT in Central Florida must be in hog heaven. This is the biggest news shitstorm to hit Central Florida since . . . Ted Bundy? No, really. People are lining up at the courthouse to sit in on this murder trial. Lining. Up. Like it's a midnight pre-release showing of the latest Twilight movie, or something. The eager beavers even erupted into a fist fight, for pete's sake. I couldn't make this up if I tried. See below.

Source

Now, that's class. I could go on about this trial forever, but what's the point *then we'd have to get into some unnecessary "eye for an eye" debate over the death penalty, and nobody's interested in that can of worms.* Besides, if you're following the case, Jose Baez is probably all the long-winded commentary you need. I'll check back with any noteworthy updates, and in the meantime, let's keep our fingers crossed for justice. In the words of Hannibal Lecter (another pathological narcissist), "All good things to those who wait."

Holy Hoarding!

Today would typically be referred to as Good Friday, because today's the day that Christians commemorate the crucifixion of Jesus...and hopefully I won't burst into flames for writing this, but...I'd say today is actually Great Friday...because I have a half day at work! Too much? Well, Happy Good Friday to those of you who do celebrate, Happy Great Friday to those of you who got the day off or get to duck out early and a plain ol' Happy Friday to my heathen friends out there. Haha! Okay, I'll move on.

You can thank my good friend Shy (you remember, the one who sends me all the shit I can never wipe from my brain, no matter how many times I deep scrub it with bleach) for this morning's blog. I awoke this morning to an email from her, with nothing but the following link (You should definitely click it; there aren't enough crib notes in the world for what you're about to see...but please be warned...it's a lot. You're probably going to wish you didn't. But it's one of those train wrecks you can't help but to look at. I can't promise that you'll be able to forget it. But you should totally take the risk.):

http://swamplot.com/inside-the-messiest-apartment-in-houston-ever/2008-09-23/

For those of you too scared to access the link, I'll share some of the photo highlights with you. Basically, these are photos taken from a local apartment here in H-Town. The tenant stopped paying her rent and was MIA for over a month. The bookkeeper went in to leave a note and found this:

I'm not sure if you were as disgusted by this dump as I was...but if you weren't, I feel sorry for your mother. You're probably a disgusting slob, too. What's so funny is that this apartment is listed as the "messiest apartment in Houston." Uh. Messy? This isn't messy. This looks like a landfill. I'm not even sure what to think about this. Do you think the person who lived here is actually a hoarder? Like a legit hoarder? If so, they must be some sort of food hoarder. I mean, honestly. How much Whataburger can one person consume in a lifetime? I guess a lot when they mix it up with Domino's and Quiznos and Mickey D's. How much do you think this person weighs? WHAT DID IT SMELL LIKE IN THERE? I seriously gagged at least 3 times when I saw this...and then 2 more times wondering about the smell. I understand some people are terribly OCD and can't get rid of things...but this is just a whole 'nother level. The cigarette butts? This person must have smoked at least 3 packs a day. Consistently. If you actually went to the link, you saw the giant burn mark on the arm of the sofa. Oooo wee! What's up with that? What's up with that? And none of the ciggies seem to be burnt all the way down. It appears as though this woman (and I don't know about you, but I'm picturing someone along the lines of Gilbert Grape's mama who probably doesn't bother to clean inside the folds, much less her own abode) lit one cigarette, smoked it for a bit, put it out on the arm of the sofa, then lit a new cigarette. This is beyond disgusting. I'm sorry, I just had to share. People shouldn't have to deal with seeing things like this alone. I would imagine that's why Shy always sends me the links. She knows my morbid curiosity will not let me ignore the link. I have to see what was so worthy of passing on. Which is why I have some really crazy images burned into my memory FOREVER. So, thanks for that, Shy. And now you readers have me to thank. Good luck bleaching your brains. It doesn't work for me.

On that note - enjoy your Friday! I may be back later with more juicy goodness...but don't get your hopes up. I'm probably going to be celebrating this Great Friday with some spirits (not of the holy nature - I'm saving all that jazz for Easter).

*All photos courtesy of the swamplot link shown above. And what a swamplot this dump was. Blech.

Crying for Columbine

Um...has everyone else already heard about the latest and greatest "possible act of domestic terrorism" to come out of Columbine? Hurry up and read about it here so we can discuss! I'll give you some time to catch up on the reading...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's some crib notes [taken from the abovementioned article] for my non-reader readers (which, for the record, if you really don't like to read, I honestly don't even know why you read my blog):

"Firefighters discovered the bomb and two propane tanks Wednesday near the food court after a small fire broke out. No one was hurt. Wednesday was the 12th anniversary of the notorious slayings in which two students killed 13 people before turning their guns on themselves. Unexploded pipe bombs strapped to propane tanks were also found at the school in the aftermath of the shooting. 'The fact that has happened on April 20, 12 years later, near the school with similar devices is very disturbing,' said Jefferson County Sheriff spokeswoman..."

...after a "small fire broke out"? Holy Bejeezus! How lucky that the "small" fire didn't turn into a massive, explosive, nightmare. Just how close was the fire to the propane tanks? Aren't pipe bombs super volatile? This story seriously gives me angina.

Okay. I'm curious: WTF is going on over there in Colorado? I thought everyone there was like, granola-eating, Kashi-loving, birkenstock-wearing, mountain-climbing, prius-driving, health-nut yuppies! No? All jokes aside, when you look at the demographics for Columbine, it appears to pretty much be the perfect neighborhood. It's like Pleasantville, or something. (A little too perfect, if you ask me. It's kinda creepy. Which, in this context, I suppose makes perfect sense. Ugh. Digressing again. See how quickly that happens? Stupid ADD.) The average income is over $77K, for Pete's sake!* Over 75% of their population works a white collar job, over half the population is married, and the average household net worth is over $700K. At first glance...Columbine might be heaven. Or at least just a little, golden, yuppie-filled piece of it. Why does shit like this keep happening to such a [seemingly] solid community?

...and did you see the picture of the person of interest???

Photo courtesy of the FBI

What the shit, gramps?! I thought grandpas were supposed to wear cardigans and smoke pipes and play golf and drink scotch and tell you stories about when they were young and had to walk uphill to and from school in blizzards and stuff like that! I'm pretty sure casually dropping off pipe bombs and blowing up shopping malls are not on the list of common characteristics of grandfathers. What could have possibly possessed this evil old'un to do something like this? Are the two incidents related? Was this some sort of revenge mission because gramps is still mourning the loss of someone from the massacre twelve years ago? If so, why wait twelve years? Is there some sort of significance there? Did he buy his bombing supplies at Target? That looks an awful lot like a Target bag. You'd think people who would do something like this would shop at Wal-Mart. Right? I mean, let's face it. we've all seen http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/. Nobody shops at Wally World except for weirdos, poor people and creepy transvestites and/or crossdressers [some of them with mullets] who do all of their shopping late at night in really short cutoff shorts or some WT equivalent of. And speaking of his shopping bag, doesn't it look a little small for pipe bombs and propane tanks and such? I'm not quite sure what other supplies are needed for bombing, but it seems like it would require more than a regular-sized shopping bag would hold. Right?

Well, I guess that's all I have to say about that. I sure hope they find this tool box soon. Because he's old. And doesn't deserve to draw social security after pulling such a stunt. And needs to be interrogated so shit like this doesn't keep happening. Besides, I would really appreciate an answer to at least a few of my questions. Hey, inquiring minds want to know...until they DO catch the sonofabitch, I'm not Bowling for Columbine...I'm crying for them.


*Does anybody know who in the hell Pete is, anyway? Why are people always talking about his sake? I pored over my memory files (where thoughts go to die, remember?), and I can't honestly think of anyone imortant in our country's history named Pete, or ever Peter, for that matter. Except for Pete Sampras. Oh yeah, and Peter Gabriel (C'mon, who doesn't like Genesis?!). So I would like to know how Pete made it to the phrase and why everyone is concerned with his sake. Accepting explanations now. Thanks.

...not by the hair of my twinny twin twin.

Good morning! Happy Hump Day to all my nine-to-fivers out there…and Happy 420 to all my ganja lovers – please remember to puff, puff, and then, most importantly, pass. It’s a karma thing. I’m looking out for you. Moving on, it feels like it’s been awhile since I gave you a commentary with any real substance. Please accept this morning’s post as my proverbial olive branch…

You know, living in Houston has really made me much more jaded than any other city I’ve had the pleasure of living in. With a population of over 6 million, you can imagine that the crime rate here is quite impressive (or actually unimpressive, when you think of what that really means, but I digress). Every day, I hear news stories that remind me just how scary the world can be and how fortunate I am. But ever so often, I come across a story that really makes me question how some people can be so...deviant. 

This is one of those stories.

For those of you who have already puffed this morning and would prefer the crib notes to the article, here goes: Houston police discovered that these gross, PWT 48 year-old twin creepers lived with their dead mother’s body for three months.  No, really. THREE MONTHS. Their version of the story is that ol’ naggin’ ass moms came in hootin’ and hollerin’ during the BCS Championship game and somehow slipped and fell. Well, they were obviously preoccupied (Hello, the game was on!), so they just left her there. In fact, even after the game (and assessing the situation, no doubt), they left her there since they didn’t have any money for medical care. I guess they figured she’d eventually heal herself by osmosis. To make a long story longer, the boys left her lying [still alive] on the floor for four days without food or water. But obviously only because she didn’t speak up and ask for any, although she was conscious for the first day. She finally gave out on the fourth day. And get this – they remembered the exact date because it was a day after her 89^th birthday. What a fist in the ass. Happy effing birthday, mommy dearest! Would you just die already? The icing on the cake was that they decided not to involve the authorities after her passing…because they didn’t have the money to bury her. The police eventually found the body after the neighbors called because they hadn’t seen the poor little old woman in months. I think a visual would be appropriate now, don’t you? You have to be dying (no pun intended) to see what these bottom feeders look like (excluding poor mommy in the middle)...

Source

Now, if that didn’t kill your high; you must be on that DEATH (haha, shout out to Katt Williams…and okay, maybe a little pun intended that time). This article begs soooo many questions. WHY was her body found with no underpants and her dress hiked up? That might be the most disturbing part. No…I think pretty much all of this story is disturbing. What kind of shitty human beings (if they can be called that…the jury’s still out) could do something like that? To their own mother, no less? My guess is that poor lil’ Sybil just laid there in the hopes that God would end her suffering. What a nightmare it must have been to live with her demonic offspring. I mean, look at them. Hygiene obviously isn’t high on their list of priorities. Again, I have to wonder what it smelled like in there…before AND after the fact. Additionally, I find it extremely difficult to believe that Mama Dukes “slipped and fell.” Slipped on what? A banana peel? (O’Doyle RULES!*) In the middle of the living room? Doubtful. I don’t guess that this house was the cleanest…but what could have been on the floor to instigate such a fall?

Oddly, this story reminds me of Wedding Crashers, and Will Ferrell’s character who lives in the basement and is forever shouting at his Ma to bring him some meatloaf. You know the scene: “Hey, Ma! Can we get some meatloaf?! Hey, Ma! The meatloaf! We want it now! The meatloaf! What is she doing? I never know what she is doing back there. Ma! The meatloaf! Fuck!” Bahahaha I shouldn't compare the two and make light of the situation…but I just can’t help it. I could totally see doucheserious** Chaz Reinhold leaving his poor mother dying on the floor whilst he goes trolling for hoes at the nearest funeral.

On that note, I’ll leave you with a bit of wisdom. For all of you parents out there, this story is exhibit A as to why you should encourage your children to leave the nest. As soon as possible. Because they just might leave you dying on the living room floor with all of your religion showing. For those of you who do not yet have children…maybe you should just keep on keepin’ on…because there is no guarantee that they will ever leave…and they just might leave you dying on the living room floor with all of your religion showing.

*Thanks to Billy Madison for being one of the greatest movies EVER and providing so many quoteables

**Thanks to Taryn for coining this phrase. I use it all the time. Haha!

Cream of Sum Yun Gai

I’m baaaaaack! Have you missed me? I have been dying of the bubonic effing plague sick the past few days, and I couldn’t bring myself to half-ass blog. It wouldn’t even be worth it. But I think I’m on the road to recovery, so I’ll go ahead and give the people what they want today. In an effort to make my blog a bit more substantial (and slightly less narcissistic, which will be addressed in a later post), I have decided to try to incorporate a daily commentary. My commentary will be about current events, newsworthy stuff, different tv shows or movies I may watch…the list is endless. As you know, I have a lot of opinions…so…yeah.

 Today’s post is a commentary about a blog/article that my good friend shared with me because she didn’t want to be the only one disgusted by it (Thanks, Shy). So, here’s my own personal way of paying it forward. Check the article out here. You will need to read the article in its entirety before reading on in my post…major SPOILER ALERT. Consider yourself warned...I'll give you time to catch up on the required reading before continuing...

..............................<insert cheesy wait muzak here>...................................

...CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!? Are you as traumatized by it as I was??? No, really. Holy. Shit. I mean, I have heard of some seriously sick shit in my day…and Lord knows, I have seen my share of crazy on shows like Hoarders and Animal Hoarders…but this takes that crazy to a whole ‘nother level. This is my personal favorite line: “Noodles oozed out of the unzipped fly; a glory hole that Jack had ostensibly been taking advantage of all spring long. “ Wow. That descriptive sentence really put it all into perspective, you know?

 After reading this article, like the author, I’m left with so many questions. How does one get from Point A to Point B? What made Jack take advantage of his take out? Why didn’t Doug notice that he never saw any empty Chinese food containers? Was Jack always a hoarder? Was he even a hoarder, or did he just really like Chinese food? How much do you have to love Chinese food to want to make love to your Chinese food? I kind of get the whole hot apple pie thing…at least it’s hot…and gushy…but lo mein? What’s sexual about lo mein? And at what point did he decide to take his love affair to the next level? I mean, creating a boyfriend out of Chinese food? That’s borderline genius! Who would think to stuff random articles of clothing with foodstuffs to emulate a human companion? How did he pick what clothes his boyfriend would wear? Why make a boyfriend, and not a lo mein girlfriend? Was Jack gay, or what? Did he just not have any women’s clothing handy? Did Jack lift the bed every time he needed some lovin? How did Doug know that Jack had been taking advantage of said glory hole all summer? Did he leave...deposits? What if Jack was just lonely and socially inept, so he needed a friend? Would that make it better? Besides all that, what must it have smelled like in there? How did Doug not have any inkling of the debauchery going on in his spare room? Did he just ignore the smell of decaying deviance in his place for the sake of that sublet money? I’m not convinced any amount of money is worth having the memory of the lo mein man burned into your brain for the rest of your life. Am I right?

"...if it's gonna be that kind of party, I'm gonna stick my dick in the mashed potatoes!"

*drops mic, walks away*