I know y’all saw the whole “suspended account” business, but that’s what happens when your evil overlordsout-of-state accounting department sends your paycheck late, and it doesn’t clear until the day after you were told it was going to clear. Add ot the fact that December is always a lean month, anyway, and you’ve once again got a broke broad.

The holidays however, have been completely lovely. Got some cool things by way of the man in red, including a brand new one of these bitches from my small brother; spent a good portion of the night/morning before Christmas Eve getting it all set up and cleaning out my contacts database. It’s amazing the obsolete shit you find in there after five years of not really paying attention. Anyway, my sister got me some cool stuff, too, including dish towels and new placemats (yeah, domestic stuff that I asked for. And!??) The only thing I have left to get is a new winter jacket from Mother, but finding one that fits over my giant ass and that I actually like has been a real drag.

Of course, the holidays would be nothing without family drama, and there was a goodly sum of it this year. None of it, remarkably, has anything to do with me. I KNOW, get out, right!?? That’s, like, a total first in a long time, but yeah, everything was very peaceful and happy. There was some missing of people I shouldn’t be missing, too, of course, but nothing that made me a soggy mess. All in all, a wonderful week.

The coolest thing of all, though: You know the 8-rugrat family I wrote about? People listened, and they literally went from less-than-nothing to overabundance like whoa. A church put them in a fully furnished house rent-free for a year, and the kids got a whole bunch of toys and clothing. And Ogger and his nefew are planning to get their vehicle up and running as early as this weekend. Good stuff, something I’ll always be kinda proud of.

Piet the staffer did a great job on the folo—it’s after the jump:

and I totally want one:




Yes, everyone’s posting it, but with good reason.

If I may direct y’all over to my myspace profile (link’s over on the right), this is what happens when I’m let loose in Photoshop. Now, only a few of you will get why it’s so damn funny, but for those of you not in on the joke, here’s the image I started with: Lookit

Personally, I think it speaks for itself.

Have I bitched yet about my new neighbors? They took over my landlords’ old crib, and so far, they’ve been quiet. But they have a big honkin’ van and an SUV, however, and they think they’re allowed to park both behemoths out front, thereby taking up precious cul-de-sac space. I’m sorry, but there’s no reason that both those tanks need to be out front when the neighbor downstairs and I have only one vehicle apiece. “But we use both of them!” they said to the landlords when she and I complained. No, screw you. Seniority rules, and she and I have been here for eight years. Jerks.

So, the other day I was working on stories for the paper’s annual Empty Stocking Needy people fund, and it happened that one of the families I interviewed was a single mom with eight kids who’re homeless and have to be out of the shelter they’re currently staying in by Monday, while the mom (who’s 34, btw; oldest kid is 14) is in her third year of nursing school and is trying to study for finals next week. Oh, and the water pump on her van is shot, so she and the brood have been having to walk everywhere in the butt-ass cold. Ok, so I write the story, and for as many people who called in wanting to help out, there was at least one ready to literally jump my shit for daring to publicize a welfare mother who doesn’t understand the concept of birth control?

Of course there was.

Had my one editor allowed this woman to contact me—after some of my past skirmishes with sources, they don’t allow that to happen anymore—I would’ve liked to have told her about the stuff that I DIDN’T put in the story, like how she tells her oldest daughters every day that she doesn’t want them to be like her and how humiliating it is to have to defend the fact that she has so many children at all. Yeah, she knew about birth control. Yeah, one of the baby daddies kind of helps sort of, but you try getting child support from someone who doesn’t want to pay (though I’m surprised by the latest round of stats on this very subject). Yeah, she gets TANF—a whopping $373 a month because you get cut off after the fifth kid, at least in Indiana. Yeah, she’s been trying to get a job. But her oldest kid is 14. Would YOU leave seven kids between the ages of 12 and 2 with a 14 year-old? Yeah, she has friends and relatives who help out from time to time, but who wants to take on eight more mouths on a regular basis?

Here you go, fundie conservative nutjobs who believe no sperm should go to waste. Figure this one out.

Mostly, though, I’d have told the woman that no one was telling her to help them out if she was so morally outraged by their situation and oh, go suck a dick while she was at it.

I’ve implored several of my pals to see what they have in the way of stuff for the family, and this weekend when I go Christmas shopping with the sibs, we’re hitting the resale shops. If any of y’all would like to chip in a li’l something to the effort, Paypal button’s on the right.

I can’t remember where I saw it, but ever hear the phrase, “Useless as a bag full of d!cks”!?? I would say d!cks in a pot are just as useless. Tasty, but useless just the same. Observe:

but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t even mildly amusing to be eating a bowl of penis pasta with red sauce. (And kinda disconcerting, too, but hey! would you rather me eat it with alfredo? Or pesto?)

Or I need a good screwing, because between almost blowing off an assignment that didn’t end up being mine after all, hearing Mother complain that I was late picking her up because she’d been stuck in the house for more than 24 hours (it’s my responsibility to keep her entertained, you see) and getting the suspicion that my NYE plans are shot to hell, I’m in a fairly rotten mood these last couple days. I mean, like chewing metal nails rotten. Not even Tara’s Spawn Shower could wipe away the ick entirely, and it was pretty damn cute. (I told y’all Tara’s knocked up, right? Due in March. And Pop DID evenutally burst: A baby girl, 15 days late (yes, you may collectively groan). For our purposes, we shall call her Squeelie, and she’s perfect in every way. She farts flowers even, forealz.) Being broke until Friday doesn’t exactly help, either, and my gas door was frozen shut, so hope it warms up tomorrow or I don’t have to go anywhere for work, because I have no gas.

Also been dreaming about Dad a lot in the last few days, and it’s revolved around money. Wonder what the underlying issue is and why he’s coming to visit.