Pack Off American Airlines!!

Dear American Airlines:

It's official.  You suck.  At first I thought you were only mildly annoying when you could not manage to get me from Point A to Point B without first going to Point C.  Seriously people, get a map.  That whole spoke-and-hub thing is soooo 1950's.  Move on.  Hey, maybe you will save some money and then not have to fee-f*ck your customers to death to pay for fuel.  

Then, I was a little miffed when you decided to charge me $5 for a blanket.  Blankets used to be on the plane and it was great fun seeing grown people act like asshats trying to horde them before the last unlucky bastard got to board.  Then you decided they WEIGHED too much and you could save fuel by lightening your loads....so you dumped the blankets and pillows???  I'm sure that cut back in poundage really helped save you thousands.  The kicker was when you made me pay $5 for a blanket AFTER I had payed a FULL FAIR FIRST CLASS ticket to the tune of around $1,500. For $1,500 you should have found a hot flight attendant and had him snuggle around me using his body heat for warmth (hell, at that point, I was so cold I would not have cared if he was not "interested" in high-maintenance-oh-so-cute-kitten-heel-wearing-passengers) - Not make me pay more money.  Shit, for $1,5000 I would have sat on someone's lap and kept him warm!!  The insult to injury was when you told me you had actually asked your customers if they WANTED to pay for the blankets and reported they had said yes!!  I call BULLSHIT on this one because I know I wasn't asked and I was flying on your planes weekly.  

Now the news has announced that you have decided to charge people $15 for the first bag and $25 for the second.  So in addition to the @$$-raping you give us for our fare, you are now providing the ultimate bitch-slap and are charging us to get our clean underwear to the destination of choice!!!  Seriously, you now SUCK.  Since I can't carry more than 3 ounces of a liquid (or a gel) on the plane and my carry-on bag must fit in the over head bin or under the seat in front of me, how do you expect me to get my necessities there?  Magic carpet?  Wear everything at once and go for the layered look?  I'm sorry you are getting as screwed at the fuel pump as the rest of the country, but someone at your marketing department needs to get canned.  Because who ever thought up this BRILLIANT idea is flat out a jackass.  Just freakin hide the fuel costs in the ticket fee like everyone else; don't tell me I now have to pay extra to take my jeans and oh-so-cute-flippies on my vacation with me.  Dumabass.

So, from now on I will be putting on my big-girl-britches, swallowing my high-maintenance-pride and flying Southwest.  They are apparently run by someone with a better head for business since they could foresee that fuel would go up (HELLO??? Can anyone say non-renewable resource?  That sh*t was bound to run out/low/cost more eventually) and they was smart enough to hedge their bets.  At least I know what I am getting with them: A cattle-car-free-for-all seating plan and a $2 in-flight coke.  Plus I won't be told to pay $5 for a blanket that has been on that plane since the day it rolled off the assembly line!  I'm betting with your brave new marketing plan you will be planning another date to the courts to declare bankruptcy or whatever it is airlines do with they get stupid and can't pay their bills.  So, please put you tray tables and seat backs in their upright and lock positions in preparation for your final flight. And as always thank you for screwing the American traveler this season.

Formerly AAdvantage Platinum Member

Lisa-tastrophies

Motivate This

It's Friday.

I have an @$$ load of stuff to do.

I have a packet of graham crackers and a tub of vanilla frosting.

What do you think is going to happen ?

The Holy Trinity or I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

I can smell it.  Summer is just around the corner... If the 80 degree Texas weather doesn't have you convinced, then the antics of Jr. High Schoolers everywhere should change your mine.  I don't know if it's the increase in the pollen or daylight savings catching up, but there are 6-8th graders acting the fool all Texas this week.  It's days like these that I have to turn to the holy trinity of little helpers: xanax, Ho-ho's and THE GIRLS NEXT DOOR!!!!

Hello Ladies

Cause nothing beats zoning out on a dose of the old xan, while cramming in a double whammy of the Ho-ho and watching a three-some of blond, big-hootered women who have found the Mac-Daddy of all Sugar Daddies and are workin' it like there is no tomorrow.  Can I get an Amen???  Oh sorry, got myself worked up on that sugar high for a second.  

New guy swears that my IQ drops 20 points every time I watch this show, so right now I am working in the negative with regards to any Mensa scores.  I can't help it.  They are so much fun to watch.  I think I am a rocket scientist after any episode where Kendra speaks. Which is pretty much every episode, so get me a pen I have to start filling out job applications with NASA. 

Speaking of Kendra, I am so thankful that Hugh found her cause if ever someone was headed for a life made up of clear heels and a pole, it was her.  Much to the chagrin of Gentlemen's establishments everywhere.  And deep down inside my big boobed chest, I have to admit I secretly wish I could be one of them... for maybe a day or two... without the having to sleep with Heff stuff  ~ 'cause 80 year old ass is still 80 year old ass, no matter HOW much money you have ~eeewwwww.  

So after a hard day of kids telling me that I'm not the "real" teacher* (I'm working on that) and that they don't have to do what I say, I need a little afternoon of mindless bliss.  Now that I have explained how to convert a decimal to a fraction for the umptenth hundred time, I need some time with my girls. So what if I have to lower the blinds and close the shades? I think I can manage the loss of IQ points. And seriously kids, you will need to know how to do those damn conversions!  How else are you going to know how to spend your hard earned McDonald's paycheck if you can't figure out that even though that Coach bag is 25% off it is still going to cost you 3/4 of your yearly income?  

Got Nuts?

Hey Mister, got some nuts?

This piece of trivia is brought to you by my sister.  (She says her husband told her this and is passing the buck of responsibility on to him.)  So blame it, it's accuracy, and the fact that you are never going to look at another squirrel in the same way again on her.  I am taking no responsibility here what-so-ever; not even for the fact that I am passing this juicy tid bit of info on to everyone or the fact that you will be haunted by this knowledge and just HAVE to pass it on to everyone you know. Read it at your own discretion.

Somebody, somewhere apparently didn't have enough work to do one day or maybe was inspired by the statistics on Barbie and what she would look like if she was to be inflated into "real life" size, because he/she sat down and figured this out. (Personally, my hat is off to the person who could waste THIS much time at work and not get nailed for it because the most I ever got away with was sending personal e-mails and shopping for clothes at Victoria's Secret while not letting my Nazi boss see me.) If you took the average, common gray squirrel and "blew" him up to be the size of an average common man... Apparently you would have the world's best "hung" mammal.  Because the average common gray squirrel's nuts would no longer be "average".  They would each be the size of a Goodyear tire! No I have no idea what make and model tire so don't ask. At this point it would be mute, because no one I know wants anything with Goodyear written across it coming at them with any amount of force.

Which means Mr. Squirrel is the Sciurus carolinensis equivalent of John Holmes in the balls department and I now have a strange fascination with "checking out" my local flying rodent neighbors. It's sick people.  Really.  I sit and wait for them to bend over to pick up an acorn or something. Hell, I have even tried dropping a few sunflower seeds just to see what was under that bushy tail a time or two. I think the park rangers are convinced that I have lost it and that I am trying to make my own squirrel fur coat or that crazy lady must REALLY like squirrels. Either way, they watch me very closely now. 

If you think I am the twisted sister on this one; just you wait. You are squirrel-nut infected now. The next time Mr. Holy-Crap-Where-Did-You-Get-Those-Bad-Boys comes scampering across your lawn; you'll be checkin' him out as well, so don't say I didn't warn you. Feel free to blame this one on my sister.  

Monkey Screwing

AHHHHH sweet revenge.  The taste of pure joy at knowing the Monkeys are getting a little "what-goes-around-comes-around" action.  The dumb-ass Monkeys at Big Clueless and Big Heartache apparently have paid me twice for my last set of claims.  And I am just tripping over myself to get to the phone to tell them this.  Oh yeah, not so much.  I think I am going to pretend that I didn't notice.  In fact, I didn't notice all the way to the bank to deposit that check. 

I think turn about is fair play.  I mean, why should I be in such an all fired rush to send them their money, when they weren't exactly bending over backwards to get me mine in the first place.  Let that money earn a little interest in MY account for a while. (Whatever. You know I spent every penny of that second check the minute I got it. I am a one person economic stimulus package.) They can wait for the refund and I will be sure to extend them EVERY courtesy they gave me. I will gladly let my voice mail take a message for me with the promise that I will return the call within a 24-48 hour time frame... only after they have left the 16th message and have threatened to physically walk into their office and meet with me face-to-face. 

I am more than happy to process a refund within a 30-60 day turn-around time frame provided I have the correct address on file. This is the St. Louis office and not the Dallas office I am sending it to, right?  Oh, it's the Dallas office.  I'm sorry. Would you send me that address again, I don't have it in my system.  Once I get it I will process the request for return of funds:

"Dear Big Clueless:  

I am unable to process your request for a refund at this location.  I am forwarding your claim to my summer cottage in Borra Borra for it to be handled there. Thank you and have a nice day." 

Oh yeah, I am going to have the correct claim amount that this return of funds corresponds to. Are you sure it was the fourth claim set?  I don't seem to have that on my computer.  Maybe imaging has it.  Oh wait, I AM imaging.  Well, it takes me about 72 hours to scan a claim into the system before I can access it.  Right now my Big Chief Notepad and Pencil is down for repairs, so it might take me a few more days to get the image into the system. 

Then the request will go to me for processing. Which if I added correctly means you should be seeing your refund sometime right before hell freezes over.  (With global warming that might be sooner than you think.)  Until then, might I suggest a few xanax and Ho-ho's to help get you through the waiting.  If your lucky, you can submit the prescription for reimbursement through your claims department.  I'm sure they will be all over that like a fat kid on a twinkey.  Reap the turn-around Big Monkey.  

Oh, I am sooooo loving this.  Karma can be so cool when she isn't kicking my @$$. 

P.s.  I am so far behind on all my correspondence.  I promise to get caught up by the end of the week.  Thank you everyone for the support.  Happy blogging

Gratuitous IRS Tax Post

You knew it was coming.  I couldn't let Tax Day (or as I like to call it The Thank-You-For-Working-Your-Ass-Off-But-We'll-Be-Taking-That-Money-Now Day) pass by without some sort of yipping. Especially since I am fairly certain I screwed the pooch by doing my taxes with Turbo Tax instead of going to a CPA.  I'm really not 100% sure that a massage therapist is what Turbo Tax meant when they asked me for any money paid for "medical or therapist" visits, but until I'm told otherwise ~ it's deducted.  And I don't know what the hell the big deal is about owning a home!  So what, you pay property tax?  Big deal!  So do I.  I just happen to do it with my rent; to a management company; who pays it to the owner; who holds the mortgage on the property and pays the tax for a whole lot of people all at once.  Geeeesh!  I do however, want to thank Sallie Mae for once again this year allowing me to deduct what amounts to the cost of a lower-end BMW in student loan interest payments. (Bitch ~ I hate that woman!!)  I am still trying to get the cats social security numbers so I can claim them as dependents.  

 

Back to the giant @$$ screwing that the government loves to give us every year.  Did you know the IRS is one of the few agency that can come after you even if you are dead? REALLY!  I mean, you can kill people, take all their money, eat their food and the state can only execute you once. The IRS however can go to your grave, yank out your gold fillings, harvest your organs for resale on the black market and then pimp slap your kids for any money they might have gotten from you in allowance back in 1995 (plus interest).  Literally they can squeeze blood from a bone!!!  GAWD forbid you owe the evil little bastards money while you are still alive.  I think the chain gangs in Alabama get more clemency than a person who owes money to the IRS.  They can garnish your wages, take your home, boat, car, dog, cat and I thought I heard something about them taking your first born male child but that might have been the Pharaohs. I get confused.

Now I have to wait for my refund.  Which means Uncle Sam is collecting interest on MY money somewhere in the giant IRS we-got-your-money-and-we-ain't-gonna-give-it-back-until-the-LAST-bloody-second bank.  Of course, you know I have already spent it.  That money was spent the minute Turbo Tax said "Cha-Ching, you are getting a refund".  It said "refund" and I said "Hello, Benjamin!!  Come to Mama!  Teacher needs a new pair of shoes".  BTW they do NOT make oh-so-cut-teacher kitten heels that are comfortable AND fashionable which is one of the reasons why teachers are always so pissy by the end of the day. So if anyone is looking for a great way to make some big bucks... Bring on the fashion ~ teacher style.  But I digress.

So, on this great day of giving (you only thought it was Thanksgiving?), here's to us.  The paying, the poor, the screwed royally by the government we treasure.  And here's to that Uncle everyone has (you know the one you won't leave alone with the young kids for "special" reasons) for showing us the love.  HAPPY TAX DAY!!

P.s. I'm BAAAAAAACCCKK ~ the bitchy, inner diva, karma kicking Lisa-tastrophie has returned!!

Some Give All to Those Who Simply Give Love

*****I promise this is to be the last of my "sweet" blogs.  I have decided to return to my original caustic and bitchy self after this one.  But I had to get this out of my system since my friend (KK) is in the middle of rescuing her first dog and trying to find it a good home.  So fair warning. Future blogs will be back to the old yipping, mean and ho-ho/xanax filled self! So if you don't like it...tuff nookies*****

My sister is fond of saying I have spent more money on animals that are not my own than anyone she has ever met. I guess it is true in some way. I know I have spent more on the fur-babies that steal my covers at night and bring me amputated grasshoppers.  Almost two years ago I lost my sweet Baby Kitty.  A rescue my sister brought me.  BK was small enough to hold in the palm of my hand and never outgrew her "Baby Kitty" name (even if she was a bit "full-furred").  So I started thinking about all the animals I have loved and who have loved me ... if for a few brief minutes. 

Binky

The Rescues

Freeway - Found on I-10 in Houston.  A great vet and the local country radio station helped us find him a home.

Binky - was thrown out of a truck window in a box (with his already dead siblings).  He was the sole surviver and now lives the high life in San Antonio.  Recently crowned a runner up by Humane Society of Bexar County in their El Rey Fido contest.  He helped convict of puppy mill owner of Felony Animal Abuse.

B. Bush Kitty - ran across the street in College Station across from TAMU. We rushed her to the Vet school.  She died in my arms while the vet students tried valiantly to save her.  She left this world to the sound of our voices saying "we love you".  We never found her owner.

Ripley and Jonesy and the several other strays outside my old office building - Myself and a few others fed these strays until someone could capture them and give them a home.  Two now live the barn cat life in the country.

Thomas O'Malley ~ adopted from a local rescue agency in KC.  Stolen from me by my Dad after a weekend of Cat-sitting.  Thomas now enjoys blue-blankies and all the hair ball medicine he can stand. 

Turbo - My sweet, sweet Turbo.  Who moved with me all over the country.  I had to put her to sleep when she became so ill she couldn't eat.  I cradled her in my arms and sang "Baby Mine" as she slipped away.  

So to everyone who has ever rescued a pet from the pound, saved a stray from the streets, felt the love of a cold nose and the wag of a happy tail.  To those who believe that the gentle purr of contentment and the goofy look of a face blowing in the breeze out the car window, are the sweetest signs of happiness.  To all those who wait so patiently for us for the day we can hold them again and cross that "Rainbow Bridge".  This is for you:

I have seen this in other forms but this one is the best. Author unknown:

Unlike most days at Rainbow Bridge, this day dawned cold and gray, damp as a swamp and as dismal as could be imagined. All of the recent arrivals had no idea what to think, as they had never experienced a day like this before. But the animals who had been waiting for their beloved people knew exactly what was going on and started to gather at the pathway leading to The Bridge to watch.

It wasn't long before an elderly animal came into view, head hung low and tail dragging. The other animals, the ones who had been there for a while, knew what his story was right away, for they had seen this happen far too often.

He approached slowly, obviously in great emotional pain, but with no sign of injury or illness. Unlike all of the other animals waiting at The Bridge, this animal had not been restored to youth and made healthy and vigorous again. As he walked toward The Bridge, he watched all of the other animals watching him. He knew he was out of place here and the sooner he could cross over, the happier he would be. But, alas, as he approached The Bridge, his way was barred by the appearance of an Angel who apologized, but told him that he would not be able to pass. Only those animals who were with their people could pass over Rainbow Bridge. With no place else to turn to, the elderly animal turned towards the fields before The Bridge and saw a group of other animals like himself, also elderly and infirm. They weren't playing, but rather simply lying on the green grass, forlornly staring out at the pathway leading to The Bridge. And so, he took his place among them, watching the pathway and waiting.

One of the newest arrivals at The Bridge didn't understand what he had just witnessed and asked one of the animals that had been there for awhile to explain it to him.

"You see, that poor animal was a rescue. He was turned in to rescue just as you see him now, an older animal with his fur graying and his eyes clouding. He never made it out of rescue and passed on with only the love of his rescuer to comfort him as he left his earthly existence. Because he had no family to give his love to, he has no one to escort him across The Bridge."

The first animal thought about this for a minute and then asked, "So what will happen now?" As he was about to receive his answer, the clouds suddenly parted and the gloom lifted. Approaching The Bridge could be seen a single person and among the older animals, a whole group was suddenly bathed in a golden light and they were all young and healthy again, just as they were in the prime of life.

"Watch, and see.", said the second animal. A second group of animals from those waiting came to the pathway and bowed low as the person neared. At each bowed head, the person offered a pat on the head or a scratch behind the ears. The newly restored animals fell into line and followed him towards The Bridge. They all crossed The Bridge together.
"What happened?"

"That was a rescuer. The animals you saw bowing in respect were those who found new homes because of his work. They will cross when their new families arrive. Those you saw restored were those who never found homes. When a rescuer arrives, they are allowed to perform one, final act of rescue. They are allowed to escort those poor animals that they couldn't place on earth across The Rainbow Bridge."

"I think I like rescuers", said the first animal. "So does GOD", was the reply.

Jerkying Off

Seriously!

I can't believe it!

This is really against everything that is good and holy in this world.

I can't believe I never did this before and now that I am doing it...it is sooooo good.  

It does leave my breath smelling a little strange though and if it I do it too much it upsets my stomach. 

Sad thing is, I managed to go 30-some-odd-years and had to learn about this from New Guy. (Apparently he has been into it for a long time now.) When I first tried it, I was so repulsed I thought I might gag or throw up. But I held my breath and took the plunge and I loved it. Then it grew on me and now I find myself doing it all the time.  I even do it at school between teaching classes.  I know I am going to get caught, but I can't help myself.  

OK, for those of you with your minds stuck in the gutter...Get Out.  I'm talking about eating Beef Jerky!! This stuff is the bomb!!  I love it!  Plus, apparently it is good for you since it is like all protein and low calorie. Granted it has your life time supply of sodium in it, but what is a little water retention among friends??  

Honestly if you had asked me to try this stuff two months ago, I would have made all sorts of faces and practically thrown up at the mere mention of Beef Jerky. Hello?!? I'm a high maintenance Southern Woman and we do not eat beef jerky thank you very much. That stuff is for our trailer living relatives and Nascar-lovin' friends. Well, color me happy I've changed my mind. Now I am a jerky addict. It's like little slices of steak, albeit really well done steak with a lot of A-1 sauce on it, but steak non-the-less. And it does leave one's breath smelling less than spring-fresh that's for sure.  I recommend a good teeth scrubbing or at least a high-powered chewing gum for afterwards.

Well, I just wanted to share the good news about my new found love and maybe convince some of you to get a little jerky in your life as well.  :-) 

P.s. I haven't forgotten the Squirrel Nuts I promised. Don't worry it's coming but in the mean time, go get your jerky on.

Let's Talk About Sex, Baby

OK, don't ask me the details on this one (my parents read this for crying out loud!) but the term "Missionary Position" came up in a conversation the other day.  And somewhere along the way the topic turned to the more inquisitive.  

Which is remarkable given that most of my alcohol induced inquisitions usually lead to me either: 

a) my getting asked to leave the establishment 

or 

b) my pondering of the real meaning behind "who let the dogs out?"

Not exactly the Rhodes Scholar of deep thinking here, am I? 

The question came up about how the term "Missionary Position" earned it's rightful place in our sex-vocabulary.  Deep, prodding thoughts ensued. Ok, maybe not so deep thoughts since there were margaritas and a bunch of giggling 30-40 year old "girls" involved.  Did you know women are worse than men when it comes to cracking off-color remarks and making seriously bad puns about anything sex related?  Yeah, I'm blaming the booze.

After pondering the subject into oblivion, I decided I would do some on-line research since I have a hard time letting stuff like that go and it was driving me nuts not knowing this oh-so-important piece of information. 

According to Winkipedia: A common myth states that the term "missionary position" arose in response to Christian missionaries, who taught that the position was the only proper way to engage in sexual intercourse. This explanation probably originated from Alfred Kinsey's Sexual Behavior in the Human Male through a confluence of misunderstandings and misinterpretations of historical documents.[2][3] To date, lexicographers and sexologists have not found use of the term "missionary position" prior to Kinsey.

Apparently we have Kinsey to blame for this term and not some repressed missionary.  Thank Gawd, cause I was about ready to just pun my butt off on all sorts of bad, bad, bad religion and sex connections.  Prior to the Kinsey Report the Missionary Position had many other names.  Almost as many names as we can create for various parts of our bodies that we use to engage in the Missionary Position (please see this blog because the Incomparable MJenks really does the funny on that one http://matthewjenks.blogspot.com/2008/04/abuse-of-language.html ) 
And now you know. Even if you never wanted to know; you now know and this knowledge will haunt you like it is haunting me. It's begging me to make all manner of bad jokes and puns.  ~Really, you'all don't know how lucky you are that I am tired and can't bring myself to write them all out.  (And my parents read this; which means I already have some explaining to do.) 

It will gnaw at ya and drive you crazy just like the information I have on squirrel nuts... which will keep you from EVER looking at squirrels in the same way again.  But now that I have your curiosity peaked on what is up with squirrel nuts ~ I'll save it for another post. 

P.s.  I apologize for the bad formatting.  Bloggerspot is not the best in the WYSWYG format.  Hopefully the new website will be better.  

Oh Give It Up!

The following post is brought to you by the people at American Idol and their "fundraising" efforts tonight.  It's a moment of pure ranting and raving.  Back to my usual posts next time.

Dear Bono, Oprah, and every other celebrity asking me to fork over my hard earned cash for your cause:

I am so sick of you asking me to donate to a charity or cause that you "support".  I work hard for my money.  Even harder now that I gave up the Ascend into Hell job that paid the big bucks in exchange for a more rewarding yet less (seriously less - I mean REALLY less) paying teaching gig.  And I am not a stingy or cold hearted person.  I have probably spent more money on causes that were not my own than I can recall.  So I find it very ironic that you (Bono, Oprah, et all) can ask me to give up my barely-making-ends-meet-pay to help others when you are flying to and fro in a privet jet and don't have to play the "which bill isn't going to get paid this month" game.  If you really wanted to end world hunger, save all the starving people in Africa, stop the spread of AIDS and the decrease the number of AIDS orphans, you would give up that jet and fly Southwest with the rest of us in the middle income bracket.  Or donate ALL of the income from your songs, records, t.v. shows, etc. to your "cause-du-jour".  Somehow watching you talk to a starving girl in the Sudan while you are wearing $400 Prada sunglasses, does not instill in me the highest of respect for you or your "foundation".  Want to put your money where your mouth is?  Give up that million dollar home and donate the cash to charity.  Stop wearing jeans that equal my weekly wage and get to Gap like the rest of us.  Quit staying at the Ritz and move it over to Motel 8 or the Homestead Suites.  I think it is complete BS that you can't give up what you have in order to support what you believe in but you want me to "give until it hurts" on an income that barely passes the poverty line.

Now before you start thinking I am a heartless b*tch and don't care about the world around me, I do and I emotionally support your efforts.  And if I could, I would give more to my supported charities, but I can't stomach your bleeding heart whining when you only drink Evan and haven't missed a meal since your last fad-induced diet plan.  Try missing one because you can't afford the food or everything in your fridge is expired/molded or died last week.  So until the day comes that I see you driving a Ford Focus and clipping the coupons to make a dollar go farther because you have "given until it hurts" to your celebrity cause; you will get no respect from me.