Thursday, January 20, 2011

Trbobitch Gives Relationship Advice

Ok, putting the random hilarity aside for a moment... Sorry guys, but it was inevitable, my brain just hasn't been in funny mode, but I need to write. So you're all just going to have to suck it up and play along.

Not to say this won't be funny, just probably not as funny.

I want to write about this because I see so many miserable people whose misery is caused by their spouse, significant other or lesbian life partner. Now, I'm not pretending to be Dr. Phil (he's the relationship guy, right?) or trying to say I have this shit all figured out, but I figure if I can share some of what I have learned, it might help someone (it will certainly help the rest of us who have to put up with your misery).

Things that will make your relationship fail:

1. Lack of and/or bad sex
You can go ahead and sit there and pretend like sex isn't important, and that's your problem. Sure, maybe neither of you want sex, and that's fine, but chances are your man is masturbating to large breasted, small waisted beauty queens getting it up the shitter while you're in bed with a "headache". Eventually, he's going to get sick of his hand. You giving in once every few weeks to keep him happy isn't keeping him happy, hate to tell ya. Laying there making token moaning sounds doesn't qualify as good sex, either. Then you're going to bitch when he cheats. WTF is wrong with you?

2. Jealousy
Yes, he just checked out that waitress, and yes, she is way hotter than you. You already know both of those things, so why do you bother fucking asking? Is he going home with her? No, he's going home with you and if you want to keep it that way, stop nagging him every time he does something as instinctual to a male as breathing. If you want to take it out on someone, go puke up that double cheeseburger you just ate, you pathetic fatass, then maybe you'll look like the hot waitress.

3. Laziness
Remember when you were trying to catch a partner? Remember how you went to the gym and didn't eat double cheeseburgers (yeah, fatty, I'm talking to you again)? Remember how you showered and shaved your legs? You think now that you "caught" a man you can stop? That, my dear, is bait and switch. It's fucking FRAUD. If he proposed to a hot, healthy chick, he expects to be married to a hot, healthy chick, not a fat, lazy slob who doesn't want to have sex. And that is why he is checking out that waitress.

4. Controlling/Possessive behavior
Look, let's get one thing straight right now... No matter how much that ring cost you, no matter how much you "love" that other person... You don't own them. You don't own anyone, except yourself. You don't, and can't, control their thoughts, feelings or actions and when you try, you officially become a psychotic, manipulative freak. You don't have the right to dig through her purse because you are married. You don't have the right to read his text messages because you're married. Furthermore, if you feel the need  to do these things, you have bigger problems...

5. Trust
Enough already! If you don't trust the person you're married to, WTF did you marry them for?? Seriously, are you that pathetic and unsure of yourself that you have to commit to spend the rest of life with someone you don't trust? What's going to happen when you're hanging off a cliff with a playboy bunny? Who's he gonna save? This goes back to #1... Are you giving it to him? Good? Or are you a jealous, controlling, manipulative bitch?? Well, let's all hope, for your sake, you're no where near the edge of a perilous cliff with a playboy bunny.

So, in conclusion, as you can see, I have this shit all figured out. Honestly, it's worked thus far. I just don't worry about it. You have to enjoy the person you're with, not sit around worrying when they are going to leave you or cheat on you... Don't give them a reason to leave or cheat on you! Retard! This shit is not that difficult, but it requires confidence in yourself, because, at the end of the day, you are all you have. You can't turn someone into what you want them to be, but you can turn yourself into whatever you want to be.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

The Crazy Cat Lady

So, as many of you know, I had a brief stint as a Crazy Cat Lady. I figured, I was divorced at the ripe old age of 25 and I would never get laid again, So I would take in every cat I could. GREAT FUCKING IDEA!

A (not so) Brief History

Before I moved into my house, I had a cat that was bought for me as a Valentine's Day present. It was actually a very sweet gesture by my now ex-husband (he was good for the Hallmark gestures, bad at being faithful and doing dishes, but I digress). I grew up with a Siamese cat named Whiskers (yeah yeah, I know) and she ran away after 13 years, so my ex bought me a "replacement". I promptly named her Guinevere, forgetting that this name was reserved for my first born daughter... Before you make fun of me, remember that this woman caused a war that made Arthur a legendary King by cheating on him with Lancelot (who was a total tool!) and leaving the land without a king, which caused the quest for the holy grail and BAM! an entire culture centralized around the actions of one woman. If that isn't badass, I don't know what is. (We'll go ahead and forget the fact that she spent most of the better years of her life - hello sexual peak! - in a nunnery begging penance for her sins). So anyway, Ms. Guinevere is now 7 years old and I still love her dearly.

Then came Maksim. The summer before my divorce, my offspring and I were out shopping. In the parking lot of the local Petsmart, Animal Friends had a little soiree going on, so we decided to attend for the free drinks and fuzzy bundles of animal cuteness. I wasn't in the market for a cat and I didn't think the husband would exactly approve, but I didn't give a flying fuck because I paid the bills. There was a litter of kittens, just left their momma, and being the animal lover that I am (and you fuckers thought I was a heartless bitch, hah!), I fell in love with a little grey kitteh. I decided to adopt him, paid the $65 and took him home. Home to a temperamental Siamese bitchface and a predatory Husky who was bred to kill and eat small animals (and, at one point, chased down, killed and dragged home a fawn, true story). I named him Maksim after my favorite pro dancer on Dancing with the Stars (and told my husband I was just keeping with the "Russian theme" in the family). We made Maksy a cardboard box with a little hole in it to hide in. This worked out well, until I found Nikita dragging him around by the neck. I decided she would be spending more time in the great outdoors until Maks got bigger.

Guin was always able to hold her own against Nikita, even given her small stature, after all, she didn't divide an entire Kingdom and cause the need for an epic quest because she was a weak-ass wuss. I remember one time, we brought Nikita home from being spayed (or spaded, as my mom would say... Sounds kinky). She had also had her dewclaws removed and was quite miserable. She had an E-collar (the cone thing around their neck) and plastic bags on her hind legs so the incisions wouldn't get wet. She refused to lift her head up and walked like a chicken (literally, not figuratively) because of the bags. So basically, I walked her to the car with the entire cone dragging on the ground and her lifting her hind legs dramatically in a staccato motion. When I got her home, my compassion got the better of me and I removed the E-collar. She was completely out of it (remember getting gassed to get your wisdom teeth removed??) and sat, staring, by the dining room table. Well, Guin, not one to miss the opportunity to capitalize on the misfortune of her arch-nemesis  (any doubt she is my cat?), jumped up on the table and decided to see how much fun she could have. She started sniffed Nikita, then start batting at her ear with her paw. She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying this revenge, and all Nikita could do was sit there and occasionally look back, no doubt saying to herself, "I hate you, you small furry thing with a pleasant smelling ass. When I stop seeing things in triplicate, I will exact my revenge by eating you until there is no evidence left and telling the humans you ran away."

So Maks got bigger, much bigger, and Nikita evidently forgot her sedative induced plot for revenge on Guinevere. Guin remained the enemy of both Nikita and Maks, being the emo loner she is. Maks, however, realized that if he didn't act afraid of Nikita, she wouldn't bother him. Either that, or he is slightly retarded and thinks she's a giant teddy bear because he rubs against her and tried to sleep next to her. Or, maybe he has so much fur that she decided it would be too much trouble to eat him.

The Newbies

Then came Squeege. I didn't name this cat. I have a Faerie friend (another story for another time) whose cat had kittens and, of course, I had to take one. So into my life and home came Squeege. The cute little grey Kitteh.

This was followed, not long after, by my adoption of my brother's cat. They hated this cat and wanted to get rid of it. (Keep in mind, by this point, I am a divorced mother of two with a full time job). I had met it once or twice and he was an absolutely beautiful and lovable, long haired ginger cat.

The funniest thing with both of these cats was their gender confusion. The orange cat was known to be a girl. They called her Honey. When I got her, I decided to name her Ginny (Harry Potter FTW!). Then, one day, she/he/it is rubbing against me and I get a good close up of the nether regions. The was no mistaking the two furry orange things I saw. Ginny was definitely a boy. By this time, this cat had started driving us all nuts. It had eaten through every single loaf of bread/bag of buns I bought. In addition to being a total attention whore. We finally settled on calling him Lucifer.

Squeege was originally a boy. We called him Sir Edward Squeege. After a while, I didn't notice anything, um, noticeable, so I decided he must be a girl. Apparently Squeege was just a late bloomer, because the vet informed me that "Lady Squeege" was, in fact, Sir Edward Squeege.

So now that we had all that cleared up... Remember how I reminded you that I was divorced mother of 2 with a full time job? Well, now I also had 4 cats and a very rambunctious dog. By this point, I had also taken to sleeping on the couch. A regular sized sofa with my 3 year old beside me and my 45 lbs. Husky curled up behind my bent knees... And Squeege... Sticking his ass in my face and demanding my attention while I was trying to sleep, cramped in the fetal position with Southpark playing on the TV (the TV I had to replace because Dickfur decided to steal the one I had while I was at working, making money to, presumably, pay the Spousal Support that he sued me for...). Meanwhile, the stench of Stupid Orange Cat would be wafting from somewhere...

Yeah, that's right... Both parts. "Lucifer" had decided to stop cleaning himself and we took to calling him Stupid Orange Cat, because none of us really liked him. Probably because he smelled like week-old Spaghetti-Ohs (which probably don't smell much different than "fresh" Spaghetti-Ohs). He also had this thing where he would bite blankets. You know how cats "knead" to get comfortable? Well, Stupid Orange Cat had this thing where he would bite whatever blanket was on the couch while he kneaded enthusiastically to get comfy. He was very, very lovable, but try as we might, we just couldn't get past the smell or the greasy residue in his fur. Even Squeege, who was one of the only reason we tolerated Stupid Orange Cat - because Squeege LOVED him, stop hanging around him. Maks, the infamous cleaner of the younger cats, stopped trying to clean him. Basically, the entire family completely shunned him. Only the dog would go near him, presumably to try to eat him because he smelled like the kind of thing the dog would eat (i.e. garbage).

It got to be too much for me, between stinky Stupid Orange Cat being, well, stinky and stupid, Squeege waking me up and peeing on my carpet, changing 3 litter boxes, buying cat food in bulk, Stupid Orange Cat spreading his diseases that he contracted from being filthy and vet bills, I had to get rid of some pussy.

I was able to pawn Squeege off on a friend and I kept throwing Stupid Orange Cat outside, hoping he'd run away. If I didn't see him for 2 days, I'd start celebrating, only to hear his obnoxious tomcat meow outside the door moments later. I'd finally let him in out of sheer compassion. I tried to like him, I really did, but the smell and the simple fact that he took no pride in being a feline completely turned me off.

When I moved in with my mom, I took Maks and Guin, as I had every intention of keeping them and I knew Squeege was in a good home. I had called the Humane Society to make arrangements for Stupid Orange cat, and they were full. I also tried Animal Friends, they required and application and I know Stupid Orange Cat would never be accepted to what is, essentially, kitty Harvard. I finally found a shelter an hour a way that I had planned to take him to. Stupid Orange Cat wasn't around on the day I moved out of my house, so, I hate to say, I kind of left him there. At first, I went back every couple of days to check for him and leave him food. I saw him a couple of times and didn't have the carrier with me to take him back (or so I made the excuse). Eventually, I was only going back every week or so, always leaving food and water outside. The one time I actually took the carrier, Orange Cat was gone. I haven't seen him since. There is a part of me that feel like a horrible, cat-abandoning asshole. There is another part of me that says no one in their right fucking mind would have wanted that cat anyway.

There is a moral to this story. It's not anything against cats, either. Cats are great. I love the two I have and they give me absolutely no trouble. The moral of this story is that I had better find a MAN to settle down with, because I don't like the smell of cat piss and am not cut out to be a crazy cat lady.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

A Filler for You Lovely People

So yeah, obviously I haven't written anything for a while. It's not really writer's block, I just haven't had that "aha!" moment where something strikes me as particularly hilarious enough to write about. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten those damned cookies and done some heroin instead... I figured I'd better post something though, so I don't lose all 17 of my followers (who probably don't read my crap anyway).

So update on what I've been doing... Same shit. Next.

I do have one bone to pick here, where the FUCK are all the Hot Bald Guys? I know damn well that I know a lot more Hot Bald Guys than the two who submitted pics!!! Ok, 3, but one guy didn't follow directions. Sooooo.... I need some Hot Bald Heads to go here. If you'd like to submit a Hot Bald pic and be featured (I'll even include a personal ad for you if you're single!) on my page, all you have to do is email me your best Hot Bald pics and at least three sentences about how awesome I am. Easy. Do it. The only stipulation is that you must be completely bald, comb overs and beard heads are automatically disqualified. Same goes for receding hairlines.

That being said, I left a Hot Bald Guy off of my Hot Bald Guys post. I am going to remedy that now.

I am actually getting ready to work on a more serious project... So I may not be so funny for a while.

Don't tell me "Happy New Year(s)", it's January 4th, that shit got old at 12:01 am on January 1st. Further more, I don't make resolutions. I learned a long time ago not to make promises to myself that I cannot keep. I've learned to accept the fact that I am eccentric and lazy and I am OK with it.

Hopefully soon I will have a real post for you. Until then, please send Hot Bald Pics!!!!

Here's a pic of me having a great hair day: