Forgive me. I realize that the title of this post is far too melodramatic for the trivial and gross nature of the actual topic…but I don’t care. In fact, said apathy leads me to wonder why I’m asking forgiveness at all. I don’t care if you forgive me. Quit reading my blog if you can’t deal with it.

And what’s the topic? Menstration. (Disclaimer: not for the faint of heart…this is going to be gross.) It blows. Just in case you were wondering. It hurts. It smells bad. It’s inconvienient. It stains. It causes petulance. One would think it’s something they’d have figured out how to entirely do away with some time ago. As I understand it, a very large majority of women are afflicted with the wretched thing. Oh sure, it’s a pretty thought…we’re graceful, feminine, sweet smelling and soft. Our fertile wombs are a gift from God that have the potential to yeild a beautiful human life. Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but women can be just as unplesant as anything else…particularly when their innards are contorting themselves like chinese acrobats to expell a gooey lining of clotted and decaying blood. So with this glorious gift of fertility, we can bear children…and aren’t all children just automatically precious little angels that sit politely in the corner like porcelain dolls after a painless and effortless childbirth. NO! I’ve never experienced pregnancy or labor, but something gives me this sneaky little suspicion that it would cause me pain as I have never felt it before. (A misshap with a nurse practitioner during a pelvic exam a few years ago gave me a strong appreciation for how sensitive to pain that area of the body is.) Furthermore, children are anything but precious dolls. Thank goodness that they’re not. Kids are cute, I’ll concede to that. and I’m glad they have the potential to be joy-filled and animated. That does not, however, negate the fact that they also are entirely capable of being no less vile than the spawn of satan in behavior and temprement. Furthermore, a lot of the personality of a child relies on nurture. Many, many people are unfit parents or spoil their progeny to no end…the result is…well…demon spawn. But I suppose that’s a noble thing. After all, demons must reproduce, too.

So what was my point? Menstrating sucks. I suppose that’s about it. Thanks for reading.

Ahhh…the day after Thanksgiving. It is quite possibly a more celebrated holiday than the blessed day of thanks recognized just 24 hours prior. Today and yesterday, in my mind, can be likened to the stark contrast in the 48 hours that Halloween and All Saints Day occupy on the calendar. Thanksgiving is one of the rare few wholesome family holidays that remains untouched by the greedy hands of commercialism. The only reason it remains as such, is because the day following has graciously soaked up American greed like the driest of sponges and annually absorbs more. Shoppers take to the stores in swarms…in a terrible stampeding mob mentality to fulfill their insatiable hedonistic desires for more. If people paused a moment to realize that they don’t need three quarters of the shit they buy and took a little time to reflect on what was really important, maybe the US wouldn’t be the stressed out work-aholic nation it is. That’s my rant.

Download a pdf of the Buy Nothing Day poster I designed for an assignment in college.

In observance of the Thanksgiving holiday, I’m giving you, my faithful readership, the secret pumpkin pie recipe imparted unpon me by my dear highschool geometry teacher. Mmmm…tasty, tasty pie.

I didn’t really do a whole lot to celebrate Thanksgiving today. My family returned from six days of gun hunting around one o’ clock. I expected that after not seeing them for of those days, they’d want to spend a little time together…but they were all pretty ornery so I spent the afternoon playing with stuff on my computer…like the misanthropic piss-ant I am. Or maybe I was just cranky. My own distemper does a lot to make everyone else seem that much more unpleasant, but I’d never admit that to anyone. (Note: this is yet, another occasion that I’m making the assumption the vast, vast audience my spleenblog draws is really just a “figment of my imaginewton.”

We went to my grandma and grandpa’s place for dinner. Grandma’s food, as always, was excellent. We had fun shooting the breeze with the aunts, uncles and cousins…my family is huge. Especially on my father’s side. I had to chuckle when my ten(ish)-year-old cousin that I used to babysit…who I’ve seen every Christmas and Easter since the year he was born…had no idea what my name was. It wasn’t even just on the tip of his tounge. He had no idea what relationship he shared with me…his mom had to explain that our father’s were brothers. To be fair, I can’t remember what his name is, either. Drr…this is going to drive me nuts now. Aaron? No, that’s his older brother. He might as well be Aaron. They look like the same person, anyway.

So yeah…things that I’m thankful for:

1. my family, friends and loved ones
   As much as I complain, I really do love them and I’d be one hurting unit if anything should ever happen to any of them.
2. I’ve got a good life.
   I could be a whole hell of a lot worse off right now. I’ve got it good and I’m lucky. ( I have trouble deciding if it’s pessimistic of me to point out that things could be exponentially shittier than they really are. In my mind, this effectively sheds a positive light on any negative situation with recognition that it’s better than a worst-case scenario.)
3. The plastic things on the ends of shoe laces or aglets
   I hate it when I loose an aglet and my frayed shoelace can no longer be easily threaded through the eyelets of my shoe. I’m profoundly thankful that these wonderful little things exist.

That’s about all I’ve got for now.

I’m really tired. I need to go to work tomorrow. I need my beauty rest.

Sam, the proud 3-time consecutive winner of the Sonoma-Marin Fair’s (Petaluma, CA) prostigious “World’s Ugliest Dog Contest” passed away yesterday. Bless his ugly little soul. He will be dearly missed by all.


In honor of the recently deceased, I have scrawled his portrait in blue crayon on a cheap paper place mat at a Green Bay area restauraunt called Wallaby’s. It had an Australian theme and it was quite good. I recommend the Chicken Wrap…mmm.

Eh, nuts…I’m running late for work because I was foolin’ around with my blog.

No…I’m not a spectator at a Brazilian soccer match screaming GOOOAA-(inhale)-AAALLL! I am an icy Wisconsinite getting my ass out of bed at 6am to play musical parking spots with my father so he can leave for work this morning. And that scream…that was not a fanatic celebration of a score well earned…instead it was a noise of sheer agony as my pajama-clad ass slid into the frigid flipin’ driver seat of my ’99 Chev Lumina. Forgive me for not annunciating properly…the word that escaped my lips was “COLD!” Thanks for your time. I just wanted to set the record straight.

So…after my b2evolution blog just about took down the entire server that’s hosting my site, I’m trying again to administer a successful blog. (insert roaring crowd noises here). This time, I’ve decided to go with WordPress, per the recommendation of some reliable friends. I’m pleased with the software, to say the least. Already it’s been much more intuitive to deal with than b2evolution…and it hasn’t tried to swallow the server’s soul…at least not yet.

I do still have to design a skin for this blog. Please bear with the default design while I come up with something that’s hopefully better.

Now I’m faced with the daunting task of filling the blog with content. The first entry is always the hardest to write. I’m deliberating using Lorem Ipsum to fill the place of my first post…at least I’d think it was funny. Then I’d have an excuse for my meager readership. Who knows, it might be more interesting than anything I could come up with.

Dare I venture to think that someone might actually read this? That is after all, the point of a blog. I suppose I’ve always regarded anything I’ve published online as something nobody who valued their free time would bother to read. At the same time, I hope people will read this and I get an enormous kick out of the prospect of having an audience, however small. I do tend to write things that I assume nobody will see, which is a dangerous thing…but I find humor in my own embarrassment so it’s worth it. I must, however include a disclaimer: all users read my blog at their own risk. I claim no responsibility for wounded pride, broken hearts, or wet pants.

So this is my blog. Enjoy it. Give me some feedback if it behooves you to do so.