Monday, March 16, 2015

leprechaun traps?

i don't have children.  my husband does but they're way beyond the age of crafting a leprechaun trap. martha stewart and others have posted instructions on how to build a leprechaun trap.  this is the first st. patricks day i've heard of such a trap.  who would want to trap a leprechaun?  that's like trapping a possum to be your pet.  like all things, cute when young but after a couple of years of feeling trapped and a bottle of chardonnay-a-day habit, that cute possum's gonna turn ugly.



or trapping a leprechaun would be like going on a family roadtrip with justin bieber.  a leprechaun trap.  i can't get over it.

to me a trapping a leprechaun sends the wrong message. it's like telling your kids that slavery is cool.      that trapping a boat full of africans on the amistad for the middle passage to the new world is a great way to get from a to b.


but the fucked up thing for me is the size of the leprechaun trap, it's the size of an oatmeal canister.  ladies and gentlemen leprechauns are the size of a peter dinklage (no offense) or a justin bieber, but with freakishly huge testicles and a temper.  if you think this will hold a leprechaun-


you are mistaken.  here is my favorite st. patrick's day news story of all time, enjoy....




Friday, March 13, 2015

peri-menopausinsomnia

not a word peri-menopausinsomnia, yet.

jesus fucking christ it is 5:30 am and i've been lolling about in my bed since 1 fucking 30 am.  guess what two songs are doing a mash-up in my head?  duran duran's union of the snake and some song that i thought was from the animal house soundtrack that goes "reproduction (then in falsetto) reproduction",  which drove me to post rather than insomniacide.

fuck.

shut the head off.  shhhhhhhhhhh.  my brain is speculating that the laryngitis i can't quite seem to shake is a giant ball of melanoma on my larynx, spreading to my lungs.  but the thing is why the fuck would i want to go and have that confirmed?  you see with me it's not about what it is or what it isn't, it's about i do not have one iota of interest in doctors, hospitals, surgery, radiation, or chemo.  none of it.  no thank you.

i don't write this like i'm some denyer or denier about my health, i've just had it.  and if i'm gonna go, i want to be ambulatory and not depressed.  neither of which i've been able to muster much of the past couple of years due to the stresses of doctors, surgeries etc etc.

i'm finally climbing out of one of the funkiest funks i've ever been in and am trying to take life day by day like the good wino i am. wink smiley face.  i will see a doc if this persists much longer, but if it is something cancer related and surgery or some shitty treatment is suggested, having had four cancer related surgeries plus radiation, plus a depression the depths of which i'm only able to write about now (superficially that is) i'm just going to keep on with my day to day.

is there a make a wish foundation for adults?

dear make a wish,
i have stage 4 melanoma.  my wish is to eat mushrooms with benicio del toro on a boat in the amazon while jack white plays guitar.  i'll be at this number 555-555-5555 until saturday.
thanks!
nicole



instead i intend on planting a beautiful garden, riding my bike, walking my dog and being in touch with everyone i love and maybe eating a few good meals.  oh, and i hope to get some shut-eye too.

Friday, February 13, 2015

happy valentine's day


nothing says i respect you more than rohypnol in your glass.  i hart women.

Monday, February 9, 2015

rocky mountain high

god damn, i went to church sunday morning.  bought edibles at the end of airport road in breckenridge.  it was 10 am and sunday.  hallefuckin'luja.  testify.  

breckenridge is situated at 9,000ish feet.   so roasting a chicken took about 1/3 longer than at sea level, 80 minutes.  my bottle of hair conditioner ejaculated on me in the shower.  altitude.  you should see the bags of kettle brand chips, they look like violet from willy wonka after she chews the gum and inflates.  was violet the one who says snozberries?

from america alijazeera

Sweet Grass Truffle Brownie, Incredibles Peanut Budda Buddha, Beyond Mars Fruit Chewz, Chocolit, Claudie Bears—the menus at Colorado marijuana dispensaries often read like a tour of Willy Wonka’s factory.

i like the snozberries




Sunday, February 1, 2015

feb one

10 inches, unofficially.


stroker ace and husband

stroker ace and husband part deux

margaritas on the patio?

stroker ace behind cucumber trellis

the utility wires look like they are wrapped in foam.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

stroker ace

time-7:45 am today
location- chamberlain east of 42nd st, dropped my husband's daughter off at roosevelt and leaving la mie after buying a loaf of bread for fucksakes
who- me and ace in honda and some fuck in a station wagon/suv
what- drag race
outcome- i won
why- it's wednesday and i hate assholes

turned east onto chamberlain, heading towards 35th st., dude(?) in station wagon/suv comes up on my tail then tries to pass me on the left on this residential street.  no no, without even thinking about it i accelerate and turn my steering wheel left, forcing him(?) to veer further left into oncoming traffic lane.  there is a parked car on the left 100 feet in front of us and i had the a'hole boxed in.  i was ready to hear that ugly excuse of a hybrid smash into the parked car, and me continue on home as if nothing had happened.

who am i?  all i know is i felt so frickin' alive.

then ween's song "stroker ace" went through my head. 





light up the wheels and go for broke
stomp that pedal with a sniftin stroke
smack that roadblock caught in a pickle
i'm gonna hit that line like old dick trickle

well my motor's fine and this train's on time
and when i cross that line i'm gonna make you mine

i'm stroker ace-stroker ace-stroker ace

well it's one a.m. and i'm rollin' in the car now
gonna hit last call down at the bar now
got a shammy in my pocket and it's burnin' a hole
stick it the floor and watch me roll

well my motor's fine and this train's on time
and when i cross that line i'm gonna make you mine

i'm stroker ace-stroker ace-stroker ace

well it smells like poop and it sure looks crappy
gotta get back to north pappy flappy

happy hump-day

Friday, January 16, 2015

my right to intestinal crampage



the world seems to be turning itself inside out, like it's taking off a turtleneck, and the time pendulum is swinging backwards as the neck of the turtleneck lingers and hugs the globe.  then pop the turtleneck is off and the world has reverted back to say 1618.  swung back to the eve of the thirty years war.

only this time the war is on "terror", which is an unofficial war.  war on "terror" is more a euphemism for the march of the christians globally.  then there's that little thing called "jihad" or "holy war".  both the war on "terror" and "jihad" are happening on the world stage, i found this piece interesting about boko haram and how 2000 lives have been taken in nigeria but 17 french murders dominate western media.

then there's the matter of free speech.  but that too is getting dicey because now free speech in france may depend upon what you are saying.  watch jon stewart comment on this below ('subsume your hypocrisy").


then there's the story about a young woman age 17 who has cancer and refused chemotherapy because she wants to explore alternative methods.  but the state of connecticut took her away from her mother and placed her in foster care and are forcing her to undergo chemo, against her will.  i'm just gonna put this out there; if "cassandra" was black she'd be dead and not by her own free will.

and if these kids were black, this would be a non-story.  in the day and age of helicopter parenting, where susie and bobby only see the neighborhood through the greasy windows of their parents shitty minivan or the pernicious hybrid of the station wagon/suv (which i DESPISE) this story is refreshing yet unfuckingbeliveable .  some parents in maryland let their children walk around neighborhood!  gasp, quick i need an emoticon.

i remember when i was a kid, and i was able to be gone for hours.  all i said was "i'm going outside."  i'm fairly certain i had a parameters and boundaries, like if i was going to go inside someone's house and not just in the neighborhood playing, i had to call or ask.  i also had to be home in the summertime when the streetlights came on.  that's it.  it wasn't a sign of neglect, it was a sign of trust and respect.  or maybe it allowed time for my dad to take a bong hit.  whatever it was, it felt like freedom.

speaking of freedom and being turned inside out, i'm finally getting to why i started this particular post in the first place.



for those of you who know me, i eat pretty darn well.  my husband and i garden, sometimes together (ahem) and one time he weeded in his birthday suit, but i digress.  we have an organic vegetable garden, we can produce, we buy organic unprocessed foods for the most part, and we know where our meat and dairy comes from because we have developed relationships with farmers.  our food is our biggest expense.  but we aren't always perfect, or rather i.

i had a craving yesterday, it usually happens on a thursday.  on thursdays i think about the taco bravo at taco johns.  rarely do i act on the bravo impulse and yesterday i didn't give into the taco bravo impulse.  no, rather i gave into the small potato ole's and a side of shitty orange cheese impulse.  oy.  bad choice.  really bad choice.

within a half-hour i was doubled over in the bathroom unsure of whether or not i was going to puke or poop.  my gut had spasms.  my ass had spasms.  after peeing out of my ass over the next two hours i then slept for 11 hours.  i couldn't tell my husband that it was ole related because i was mortified and i didn't want to hear about it.  all he knows is that i "made bad choices".  but they are my choices.

if you want to publish a cartoon that offends millions, then you better be ready for consequences, but you have a choice to do it or not.

if you refuse toxic treatment for a terrible disease,  you may suffer the consequences of it, which may or may not include death,  but that is your choice.

if you want your kids to be able to walk through their neighborhood unattended that is your choice, you may suffer the consequences of it, just ask johnny gosch's mom, or you may have given your kids a healthy sense of responsibility and freedom.

and finally if you want to eat shittay food, i mean shittAY food, don't mayor bloomberg or nanny state it,  eat it and suffer the consequences.