So, I’m pretty much sick of thinking and talking about Paris and Lindsey.  I’m over Anna Nicole, her monasery of man whores and her kid. 

Thank God there was something fun in the news today!

This dude, err, chick, err, well I think its still a dude, Robert Kosilek, wants the state of Massachusetts to pay for his sex change surgery.

Um. Yah.  He just isn’t happy being a he and isn’t going to be happy living as a he anymore, dammit!

Whatever.  This asshat killed his wife in 1990 after she dumped hot tea on his testicles.  I’d probably have dumped hot tea on his testicles too, but I would have run for the hills and not looked back.  Apparently she wasn’t that smart and he strangled her.  How I don’t know.  I can only assume that if I had hot tea spill on my nuts, I’d be in the fetal position crying like a baby.

Anyhoo.  So, this guy has been in jail for murder for many moons.  Now, I don’t know about ya’ll, but I am all for swift offing of anybody who is a murderer.  I mean, why are we wasting our tax dollars on feeding and showering these folks?  I am not tolerant of blatent evil or being mean for the sake of it, but I think there are way too many murderers, child molesters, and rapists in prison, living the good life, instead of getting a needle in the vein.

And this jack ass wants the state to pay to remove his penis and give him a vagina?   If they do it, I hope he gets molested by the biggest, baddest man in the prison. 

Any Tom, Harry, or Dick in society would be fighting with a multitude of shrinks to get the sex change, not to mention spending a small fortune on the operation itself.  How in the world could his request even have gotten so far as to have made it into court?  And not only did it make it into the courts, but an obscene amount of money has been spent on mental evaluations of this guy because he keeps threatening suicide.  Good God, let him do it!

Dang, give me the needle or let me have control of the switch, I’ll euthanize him and save the fine tax paying citizens of Mass. a whole lot of money.

ON DEMAND!!!!   Yes!

 Every so often I get bored and turn on the boob-tube.  As usual, I am sorely disappointed that I pay SATAN (Comcast blog) a hundred bucks or so a month for 197 channels on which there is not a damn thing to watch.

However, there is a slight redeeming quality to my personal hate of beelzebub.  On-Demand!  Yay!

Now where else will one find such an unlimited supply of good stuff?

My joy stems from the fact that I found TubeTime, and this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced such utter happiness.

Today, I found *sniffle, tear* Fantasy Island, my friends!  How could I possibly  resist?  

Well, what other show can take viewers into the past, into the future, into kinky love affairs? 

But wait! That’s not all, folks!  Your host for the journey is a sexy dude, with orange skin, a white leisure suit, and a midget!

Some freaky crap went on there on Fantasy Island…  Scary, sometime criminal things.  You know how warped folks can be when they are fantasizing. Anyhoo, Mr. Rork, lets these demented people have their freaky fantasy (generally with ill results waiting in the wings), only to step in at the last second and save the day!

At the end of the day, all visitors get a lei and fly off on ZEEEplane. 

Wow.  On-Demand!  You’re my hero.

It’s funny to me when someone who you thought of as a friend will put money in front of friendship. Personally, I think that this leads you down the road to a very crappy worldview. But it is somewhat interesting to see how people will act over the essence of probable money. It can turn pseudo-friend into worse that foe; former lovers into insult slinging buffoons or business partners into vicious tax collectors. Unfortunately for me this is an overly large let down. For love of God, you would think that the loss of a loved or the end of ties one would cause all parties involved to want to remember the happy memories of the passed. Never would it drive a wedge between friends or even those you considered almost like family.

Why the reason for the sudden cutting of ties? Simply because one person received something from a loved one that was not a member of his or her biological family. This very seldom thing occurs when debt that should have vanished and be non-existent or sheer greed takes over the body. Now a person in this situation must deal with the repercussions of their own poor decision in order to fulfill a desperate need for attention. It is as if they never got enough time, money, or caring sentiments from anyone. When things are really bad… (Which a majority of the other people involved know to be false.)

Second example, the insult slinging buffoon, however is also very similar in behavior to the scum sucking relative. He or she will differ in that during the separation process, he or she will sling names at your friends, family, and your own person. I for instance have become a “vindictive, selfish, unloving, unmotivated, immoral, c*#$sucking a$$hole.”

If I had not realized that this was coming from an insensitive, psychopathic, and lying cesspool of a person I would be taken aback.  I hate when a lover-ship sours like a nice white wine. At some point you never get what you invested. Nor do you come anywhere near close to where you started and it sucks the big one. By that point, the only thing unknown about the relationship is how long with the other party keep pestering you?

The worst candidate for pestering you is the business partner when that relationship goes sour. They are slightly more annoying since more of your personal finances tend to be tied into your business, sometimes it is better to get separate business Dealstruck loans. The popularity of instant online decision as a lending option has risen dramatically in the UK. In the same token there is fortunately more distance sometime since it is a legal partnership and can be broken with the assistance of a fabulous mediator. (Wonderful counselor, the prince of peace… well okay, maybe it’s not quite such a divine intervention, it just seems that way sometimes.)

Generally, the repercussions with any of these can (with my involved will,) end on a positive note. In the end the people who irritate or criticize me with no ground to stand on usually go away and leave me be. They quit calling, don’t e-mail, or write letters. Those who choose to drag it out, cause a scene, and raise a ruckus should seek professional help. Why not? Lord knows I will if I fall victim to dealing with any of these unpleasantries.

     A little while back, I did a review about the reacTable, a table-top music synthesizer.  People loved it.  So when Microsoft comes up with Microsoft Surface, people are going insane on the Microsoft-bashing bandwagon.

     Check this out …

     Sorry, cool stuff.

     Still, a lot of people are screaming that, “Microsoft is inventing a product which there’s no need for!”
     My honest opinion says that that those types of short-sighted Asshats can suck a big one. The new microsoft product has also been running into a lot of windows error code.

     Whether or not some people see a need for it or not is irrelevant.  There certainly are uses for it now.  Think in terms of business and Government, where untold sums of money are spent on Conference Calls, cameras, long distance charges, couriers, paper documents, signatures…
     Imagine the ability to slide a signed digital document across the desk to a guy sitting across the country … or at a manufacturing facility in Singapore … sending a design specification, and getting back photos of a prototype … having a Sales & Marketing meeting with the best

[ Blogged in realtime, Wednesday, 20-Jun-2007, kinda like that stupid TV show 24, but without that asshat kid of Donald Sutherland’s… ]

Here we are folks.  It’s a wonderfully balmy Wednesday night at CatScratch Jane’s.  I’m sitting with a bird’s eye view of all the going’s on.  Karaoke is getting ready to kick off and it looks as if all the regular crowd (good and bad) has started peppering in.

The Twin Blow Out is starting here tomorrow, but the biker boys on their motor-scooters are plentiful.  The patio’s a-buzzing, the inside is buzzing.  We’re looking forward to an eventful night.  Bring on the singers.

A real blow-out, right?  Uh. No.  It’s another train-wreck.  That’s what I get for being all amp’d up for a party!  Thus far we have heard a not-so-right-on rendition of “Live and Let Die” (help me!).  Now we are on to the worst drunken interpretation of “You Look So Good In Love” that I’ve ever heard… whining included.

The place is packed.  Folks are piled up everywhere, inside and out with the best bike rack carriers for cars and trucks on all their vehicles.  I’m dying for a beer.  But dammit, it’s busy.  I’m going to wither up and fall in the floor from lack of alcohol.  But as I sit here, waiting for Cutie Pie (our beer wench) to surface, I think to myself “Damn, girl!  You’re hair looks gooood!”

Finally!  A hot guy is getting up to sing.  I missed his name, but he’s wearing a polo shirt and baseball cap.  He’s singing Toby!  You go, boy!  Mercy me, yes.  He sure should have been a cowboy.

I’m still waiting on my beer.  It’s nearly 10pm.  Through the open windows I hear the clank of the triangle being busted by a gaggle of pool shooting biker boys.  Now and then a loud, orgasmic burst of noise comes when one of the bikes fire up.

Ya know, Christmas is coming up.  Harley.  Under the tree.  Big red bow.  Thanks in advance to whomever decides to make this purchase for me.  I’m obliged.

Finally, at 9:55pm, Mark drags his ass in.  “Log the time, Scotty!”  He has mercy and goes to hunt Cutie Pie for my beer.  Bless you, hon.  I was withering.

By 10 I’m thinking, “I thought this was going to be the kick off to a bad ass biker weekend party… it’s more like B-97.5 night in the local geriatric ward.”  Never has an hour seemed more like ten.  Never have I wanted someone to shoot me in the ears worse than I do right this very minute.  “Log the time, Scotty!”

10:01.  Scotty is so excited to be here that he’s taken to watching the drag queens on the t.v. above the bar.  *snicker*  You dirty boy, you.  But wait:  Here comes Nike!  He’s belting out some bad ass Lionel Ritchie love song,  The boy possesses the ability to wake up a bored and otherwise depressed drinking crowd.

Oh my, what’s this?  The heavens have opened up and some good singers with some happy ditties are now on a roll.  Joe hops up and belts out a soulful blues number (he really rocks the hell out of the blues).  Now if we can talk him into losing his “Bat Outta Hell” CD… *wink wink*  You know I love ya, Joe.

I belted out some goodies too, if I do say so myself.  I dueted with Cowboy Billy-Joe-Tom-Bob and sang “Dontcha.”  He kicks ass on the rap part.  Freestyle baby!

I then attempted to do the night justice, with Nike’s help, by belting out “At Last” … the Etta James classic.  Choice.  Very choice.

My news reporter skills are being diminished by the amount of cold beer and Jack Daniels I have consumed.  At this time, all I can really say is that everytime I get up from my corner booth, I end up grabbing this poor girls ass.  So, I end up making light of it, in my regular Diva style.  I own up to it.  I look her in the eye and tell her, “I’m sorry for grabbing your ass everytime I get walk by!”

“Log the time, Scotty!”  It’s 11:14, and I’m drunk. Food ordered. Yah!  I comment to Scotty that we are evil.  He says “No, we’re just honest.”  Good one.

Finally.  Something note-worthy.  A drunken skank finally falls out of her chair into the floor.  NEXT!  Scotty dies laughing, and notes the time is 11:23.

Food on tap.  CatScratch has the best food around.  Especially if too much alcohol has been consumed.  Cue the onion rings.

And the french fries.

Scotty is in the loo, so I’m logging the time as 11:34.

So, if tonight was any forecast of the drunken festivities that are to go on for the next several days at CatScratch… all I can say is WOW!  Good luck with that!

I maintain here and now, I’m Diva enough to stay on the porch, because I certainly can’t keep up with the big dogs.  *rolls eyes*

Woof!  Out.