Ms Cathy's blog: "My Stuff"

1. When a cop says to you, "anything you say can and will be used against you", that's your cue to shut the fuck up. Whatever you do, don't say something stupid like: "I only had two beers". In Arizona, DUI is impaired to the SLIGHTEST degree. Two brews will impair a 280 pound linebacker to the slighest degree, and will probably do the same to you. "Why don't you arrest the real drunk drivers?" Seriously, wtf? "I shot Larry in the head four times because he said my myspace page was 'gay'. The gun is under the driver's seat of my car, and I dumped his body in a wash five miles west of milepost 268 off the I-10." In most criminal cases, the strongest piece of evidence against a defendant is his confession. Remember, without your confession, often the prosecution has no case. 2. Don't give the cops permission to search your car! If Officer Friendly is asking you if he can search your car, that means he has no right to search your car unless you give him permission; otherwise, he wouldn't be asking you for permission. Officer Friendly is not your friend. If your sack/glock/bloody glove is in the car (1) he will find it, (2) he will arrest you, and (3) you will call me and I will tell you that you should have Just Said No. 3. I am an excellent attorney, and my boss is a friggen genious, but there is often very little we can do to help you by the time we receive your case, as far as winning a "not guilty" verdict goes. Just to clear things up, the following are NOT defenses to criminal charges: "I thought the cop was a prostitute." "That crank was bunk, anyway." "I just put my junk a little bit of the way in." "I just dropped my truck off in the desert for 15 minutes. By the time I came back, someone must have accidently loaded 250 kilos in it." "I didn't know that Kara_AZ_13 was really Dectective Uhall of the Tucson Police Department. "But it was my first time." The following are probably not defenses to crimes, but MAY be defenses: "The bitch ain't even dead." If my file contains an autopsy report, I think the professional rules of conduct bar me from advancing The Bitch Ain't Dead defense. "I take back what I said to Officer Friendly." Did the cop hold a gun to your head to make you talk? No. Did he forget to read you Miranda? No. Did you waive Miranda and talk to the cop? Yes. Then no take backs, sorry!!! "I thought it was a regular brownie." "It was just a butter knife." "I can't believe it's not butter." And now for the strong defenses: "The cop had no reason to pull me over." "I was asleep, and I've never sleep-walked before." "The other guy was pointing a gun at me." "I'm not Juan Rodriguez." 4. Thanks to a conservative Supreme Court and 25 years of tough on crime legislation (seriously, when have you heard of politician win on a 'soft on crime' platform?), the courts are no friends of criminal defendants. By the time you hire me as a lawyer the cards are stacked against you. Remember, 95 percent of the cases where the accused is charged with a crime will result in a criminal conviction. My advice: Don't commit crime! If you choose to break the law, don't tell the cop about it, and don't let him search your car, okay?

The chemistry is undeniably present. I get the butterflies in my stomach, and you do that cute nervous-you-might-order-the-wrong-beer-in-front-of-me thing, which is adorable for the time being and will probably continue to be so for about a week or two, at which point I will expect you to have learned that a) I'm sufficiently impressed that you drink beer at all instead of frothy, bubbly girly drinks with lewd names I can never bring myself to actually say to a bartender, and b) anything that gets you drunk is okay in my book. Not that I'm trying to get you wasted so that I can take advantage of you. No, I'm not That Guy. Rather, I'm trying (and, I suspect, in vain) to achieve in you that state of pleasant buzzed-ness, in which inhibitions are admittedly lowered, but self-control and basic decision-making capability remains. Also, I suspect you have the faintest tinge of a drinking problem, and I'd hate to be the guy to pound the nail in the coffin. No, I'd much rather just be done with the whole dinner/drinks component, and bring you back to my place, or to your place, or, hell, public, and just fuck you absolutely silly. Now, you and I both know that we're both two classy people. I'm less worried about the internet world considering us both to be white trash, but let me outline, among the many reasons why we should bone, the following factors: We're both gainfully employed in rewarding jobs.While I cannot speculate as to your salary, and, frankly, it's none of my damn business, I know mine, and I'm comfortable with it. Add to this the awareness that I will be in much more of a position to buy you shiny things than many other potential suitors, and I think you will find that I can be a generous, loving fuckbuddy. We are both hot. You're hot, I can categorically state this. I'm hot, I've been told (by, among other people, you). I've always had a bit of a self-confidence problem, and so I'm not sure I entirely believe this statement, but I've received enough compliments that surely there must be something to it. Imagine how hot we'd be together, preferably naked and sweaty, and ideally fornicating. We're both intelligent, educated people. Between the two of us, we have at least four diplomas/certificates/degrees, not to mention an active involvement in the world around us. We are not slouchers. Imagine the intensity if we applied that dedication to a day-long sex marathon. Our senses of humor work well together. To date, you have not told a joke I have not found funny (except that one about the horse walking into a bar, and the bartender inquiring about the long face, but that was just because I'd heard it nine million times, and I think you were drawing off that fact rather than telling the joke straight up, so don't you worry about it), and you seem to respond well to my style of humor. In fact, I've already got a little one-liner saved up for the cuddling period in between our first romp and our second, significantly longer and inevitably messier, full-on session. I can't wait to bust it out. If for some reason, I was in such a hurry to penetrate you that I forgot to rip your socks off during foreplay (or if you're wearing those come-fuck-me boots, which are WAY hot, and I'd want you to leave on), this joke would rock those fuckers right off, so perfectly would it be timed and delivered. In conclusion, the evidence seems incontrovertible that we should engage in some serious fornication ASAP. Give me a booty call. I'll bring the candles, you bring the handcuffs. Let's bone, baby. ( we never did get together.... )

The following came from an anonymous Mother in Austin, Texas: "Things I've learned from my Children" 1. A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep. 2. If you spray hair spray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite. 3. A 3-year olds voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant. 4. If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42 pound boy wearing Batman underwear and a Superman cape. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20x20 ft. room. 5. You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on. When using a ceiling fan as a bat, you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way. 6. The glass in windows (even double-pane) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan. 7. When you hear the toilet flush and the words "uh oh," it's already too late. 8. Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it. 9. A six-year old can start a fire with a flint rock even though a 36-year old man says they can only do it in the movies. 10. Certain Lego's will pass through the digestive tract of a 4-year old. 11. Play dough and microwave should not be used in the same sentence. 12. Super glue is forever. 13. No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you still can't walk on water. 14. Pool filters do not like Jell-O. 15. VCR's do not eject PB&J sandwiches even though TV commercials show they do. 16. Garbage bags do not make good parachutes. 17. Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving. 18. You probably do not want to know what that odor is. 19. Always look in the oven before you turn it on; plastic toys do not like ovens. 20. The fire department in Austin, TX has a 5-minute response time. 21. The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy. 22. It will, however, make cats dizzy. 23. Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy. 24. The mind of a 6-year old is wonderful. First grade...true story: One day the first grade teacher was reading the story of the Three Little Pigs to her class. She came to the part of the story where the first pig was trying to accumulate the building materials for his home. She read,"..And so the pig went up to the man with the wheelbarrow full of straw and said, 'Pardon me sir, but may I have some of that straw to build my house?'" The teacher paused then asked the class, "And what do you think that man said?" One little boy raised his hand and said, "I think he said...'Holy crap! A talking pig!'" The teacher was unable to teach for the next 10 minutes. 25. 60% of men who read this will try mixing the Clorox and brake fluid.

"Advice from a Caring and Understanding Husband" Dear Husbands: Please be aware that as your wives age, it is harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping as when they were younger. When you notice this, try not to yell at them. Some are oversensitive, and there is nothing worse than an oversensitive woman. My name is Ricky. Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Lucy. When I was laid off from my consulting job and took early retirement in April, it became necessary for Lucy to get a full-time job, both for extra income and for the health insurance benefits we needed. Shortly after she started working, I noticed she was beginning to show her age. I usually get home from the golf course about the same time she gets home from work, and although she knows how hungry I am, she rests an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don't yell at her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table. I generally have lunch in the Men's Grill at the club, so eating out is not reasonable. I'm ready for some home- cooked grub when I hit that door. She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now, it's not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won't clean themselves. I know she appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed. I really think my old business as a consultant helps a lot. (Telling people what they ought to do is one of my strong points!) Also, now that she has gotten older, she does seem to get tired so much more quickly. Our washer and dryer are in the basement, and sometimes she says she just can't make another trip down those steps. I don't make a big issue of this, just as long as she finishes up the laundry the next evening. I'm willing to overlook her shortcomings in this area. Unless I need something ironed to wear to the Monday lodge meeting, or to the Wednesday and Saturday poker club, or to Tuesday's and Thursday's bowling, I'll tell her to wait until the next evening to do the ironing. This gives her a little more time to do some of those odds and ends like shampooing the dog, vacuuming or dusting. If I had a really bad day on the course and it was wet and muddy, and my clubs are a mess, I let her clean them, you know, getting the grit off the grips and a little light Brillo on the club faces. Since my golf bag is heavy, I lift it out of the trunk for her. Women are delicate, have weak wrists and can't lift heavy stuff as good as men. But I had to tell her that I don't like to be wakened during my after- golf nap, so rather than bother me, she can put them back in the trunk when she's finished. Another symptom of aging is complaining, I think. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour. But boys, we take 'em for better or worse, so just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three days. That way she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn't hurt her any (if you know what I mean). I like to think tact is one of my strong points. When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was only half finished mowing the yard. I try not to make a scene. I'm a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of fresh squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. And, as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me too, then take her break by my hammock. That way we can talk until I fall asleep. I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Lucy, but I'm not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Many men will find it difficult. Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older. However, guys, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your aging wife because of this letter, I will consider that writing it was well worthwhile. After all, we are put on this earth to help each other. Regards, Ricky EDITOR'S NOTE: Ricky was rushed to the hospital Thursday, May 4th. He was found with a Calloway extra long 50-inch Big Bertha Golf Driver rammed up his rectum with only two inches of grip showing. His wife Lucy was arrested, but after the jury read this letter, they accepted her defense that he accidentally sat on it. She was released from custody on Friday.

Life isn't about keeping score. It's not about how many friends you have Or how accepted you are. Not about if you have plans this weekend or if you're alone. It isn't about who you're dating, who you used to date, how many people you've dated, or if you haven't been with anyone at all. It isn't about who you have kissed, It isn't about who your family is or how much money they have Or what kind of car you drive. Or where you are sent to school. It's not about how beautiful or ugly you are. Or what clothes you wear, what shoes you have on, Or what kind of music you listen to. It's not about if your hair is blonde, red, black, or brown, Or if your skin is too light or too dark. Not about what grades you get how smart you are, how smart everybody else thinks you are, or how smart standardised tests say you are. It's not about what clubs you're in or how good you are at "your" sport. It's not about representing your whole being on a piece of paper and seeing who will "accept the written you." Life just isn't. Life is about who you love and who you hurt. It's about who you make happy or unhappy purposely. It's about keeping or betraying trust. It's about friendship, used as a sanctity or as a weapon. It's about what you say and mean, maybe hurtful, maybe heartening. It's about starting rumours and contributing to petty gossip. It's about what judgments you pass and why. And who your judgments are spread to. It's about who you've ignored with full control and intention. It's about jealousy, fear, ignorance, and revenge. It's about carrying inner hate and love, letting it grow and spreading it. But most of all, it's about using your life to touch or poison other people's hearts in such a way that could have never occurred alone. Only you choose the way those hearts are affected, and those choices are what life's all about.

well, where to start.. I have always had a dream of singing in a band.. even in someones basement/garage. tonight I got my chance, and I did AWESOME!! the music.. alternative rock, with lots of harmony, the band needed backup singers.. I outdid 4 other girls,..and I am sitting there watching the others... thinking "finally, It's going to happen for me" and you know what? The bubble burst.."... you don't look the part" HUH? 'too old, too big, too loud, you should try chanteuse kinda music.' They picked this little girl who had an ok voice, and big knockers.. oh well.... back to the drawing board.. if I had the wherewithall..I would do my own thing. I WAS offered the consolation prize... a one night stand with the drummer.. I passed.

I can wake-up, shower and leave the house in 30 minutes flat. And I still look cute and kissable. Even if we do get married eventually I would never dream of making you throw out your favorite sofa even if it did live in a frat house for five years. When you go out with the guys and come home all sloppy and fall asleep during sex I’ll only tease you about it for, oh, say a couple of days and never in front of your friends. I never gunk up my hair with sticky crap. I don’t watch sports but I don’t give a rats ass if you do. I’ll NEVER give you shit for spending a day in front of the tube with the guys, hell, I’ll even make you nachos. I don’t like shopping. I hate shopping. I hate the mall and all it stands for. That said, I do have clothes for pretty much any occasion. I’ll never be pissed off if you spend the day hiking instead of going to my family’s 4th of July gathering. I’ll probably join you. I am SOOOO not high maintenance I love sex. I’m not going to send you a link to a pay site but I’m not going to jump in the sack with you because you have a penis. Still, please have a penis. Don’t email a photo. I’ll take your word for it. I seriously don’t care if you’re a Aquarius or a Libra. Really. I have an amazing cabin in the mountains. I eat steak. I’m not bitter, I don’t think all men are playing games, just looking for sex, or shallow if they don’t find me attractive. I have really funny stories about the bad dates I’ve been on this year. Seriously, you’ll be laughing till it hurts. (conspiracy theory guy . . . sorry if this upsets you but it WAS funny) I don’t expect that if we don’t hit it off we’ll keep in touch. We might, but don’t count on it. I won’t either. I think Angel Therapy, Energy "tuning", Therapeutic Touch, Astrology, Cellular Memory, Creationism, Feng Shui and the face on Mars are all a huge pile of crap. If you believe in any of this and decide to contact me I WILL laugh at you. To your face. If you say something cheesy and “romantic” I’m more likely to crack-up than tear-up. If you can make me laugh I can’t wait to meet you!

A lecturer, when explaining stress management to an audience, raised a glass of water and asked, "How heavy is this glass of water?" Answers called out ranged from 20g to 500g. The lecturer replied, "The absolute weight doesn't matter. It depends on how long you try to hold it. If I hold it for a minute, that's not a problem. If I hold it for an hour, I'll have an ache in my right arm. If I hold it for a day, you'll have to call an ambulance. In each case, it's the same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes." He continued, "And that's the way it is with stress management. If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later, as the burden becomes increasingly heavy, we won't be able to carry on. " As with the glass of water, you have to put it down for a while and rest before holding it again. When we're refreshed, we can carry on with the burden. "So, before you return home tonight, put the burden of work down. Don't carry it home. You can pick it up tomorrow. Whatever burdens you're carrying now, let them down for a moment if you can." So, my friend, why not take a while to just simply RELAX. Put down anything that may be a burden to you right now. Don't pick it up again until after you've rested a while. Life is short. Enjoy it! Here are some great ways of dealing with the burdens of life: * Accept that some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue. * Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them. * Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it. * Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be recalled by their maker. * If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague. * If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it * Never buy a car you can't push. * Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, because then you won't have a leg to stand on. * Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance. * Since it's the early worm that gets eaten by the bird, sleep late. * The second mouse gets the cheese. * When everything's coming your way, you' re in the wrong lane. * Birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live. * You may be only one person in the world, but you may also be the world to one person. * Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once. * We could learn a lot from crayons...Some are sharp, some are pretty and some are dull. Some have weird names, and all are different colors, but they all have to live in the same box. *A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour. Have an awesome day

10 reasons why I hate being a woman: 1) I am so sick of my period! One-third of every month is negatively affected by my period. I am either sick from cramps, bloated beyond belief, on it, finishing it, too emotional, not emotional at all, or just simply not myself. The right months are worse than the left ones. Ortho, Depo and the others do nothing to help. 2) I hate make-up. I went to work today without make-up (I feel like crap already) and the first thing I hear when I sit down is a co-worker saying "I see you woke up late this morning, you should put your face on before anyone else sees you like that"... WTF, this is my face... it is a cute face... I like it just the way it is. Why do I have to put on a show for everyone around me, hell some of the guys here don't even shave before coming to work... they wear the same tired clothes every week... so why do I need to bother? 3) I have to be a slave to fashion. Same as the make-up situation, god forbid if I wear my most comfortable pants to work, or an out of style outfit that I personally like. Why do I have to spend a couple thousand dollars a year on clothes and accessories, why do all of my friends want to shop all of the time. This is a sickness, and I am sick of it. I wish I could dress like a guy, in the same suit I bought in 1999 and the same tie that I have worn every week for the past three years. That would be nice! 4) My bra has never fit me right! Why can't I find a bra that fits me perfectly? One that is slightly adjustable to compensate for my ever changing body? With the right cup just slightly larger than the left cup, one that provides just the right amount of support. Is this too much to ask, retailers have put significant effort into the feminine hygiene realm, perhaps they could divert some of their R&D monies away from moisture lock technologies and into making the perfect bra. If only I was a little smaller, then I could go without. 5) I hate the following terms: Pussy, Slit, Cooche, Cunt, Snatch, Cooter, Beaver, Hole, Muff, Twat, and Clam... I also hate Titties, Boobies, Funbags, Melons and any other idiotic name people come up with for my body parts. I have a vagina and breasts or tits. Easy as that. Can you say Vagina? I hope so. 6) Double standards: Men get away with murder in the business world. Women are held to a much higher degree of scrutiny and to a much higher standard than men. When men talk they are networking, when women talk we are gossiping... when men make mistakes they are risk takers, when women make mistakes we are incompetent, when men argue they are debating, when women argue we are being catty. You get the idea. I am just as smart, if not smarter than most of my coworkers, but I will always get stuck behind a guy with 'ambition and drive', especially when I spend a good portion of my month focusing on my insides (see #1). 7) Sex is different for women. Men take great pride in bedding women, as many and as often as possible. If a women expresses her sexuality she is a whore, tramp or slut. Rightly so sometimes... there is no female equivalent to the blow job, a blow job is a power trip for the guy... I am on my knees in front of him or with my head around his waist in some fashion, pleasuring him until he finishes, then it is up to me to clean up while he basks in the satisfaction. If he goes down on me, it is a different experience, there is no power exchange, he is still in a powerful position (legs apart is always vulnerable) and he is still happy to see my vagina. The picture alone is worth ten minutes of licking on his part. Don't even get me started on penetration... 8) My yearly gyno appointment. enough said, I wish I could just turn my head and cough, just once! 9) The bathroom! Ok, I am not going to talk about the cleanliness of bathrooms and the hygiene habits of women, that has been covered ad nauseum on this board. I am going to say that I wish I could be a little neater when I pee, I can't stand that first dribble that tends to go somewhere other than in the bowl if I am not sitting. The squat pee (which I have to do given the state of the restrooms in some places) is never neat for me. No need for graphic details here. 10) My mother and all other women who feel that I am breaking the social contract by not having children. I have enough issues with my girly parts already, I can't imagine what having a child would do to me. I also don't feel like bringing new babies into the current world, so don't tell me that I should. Don't say that I should 'start looking for a husband' because I am getting older... why don't you tell the guys, 'better get serious about a family, your time is ticking'... I hate the double standards, the 1950s restrictions that still apply today, the fact that every body that sees me thinks that I am a walking baby factory, that I need to put on a show for them to attract a suitable man to take care of me so that I can bear his children. I want comfortable clothes, a man to truly understand vulnerability, especially sexual vulnerability without getting freaky about it. I want the same priveleges that men have. Is that too much to ask?

Wyoming State Police - Gotta Love 'Em!!!!! In most of the northern states, there is a policy of checking on any stalled vehicle on the highway when the temperatures drop down to the single digits or below. About 3 a.m. one very cold morning in March 2004, a state police officer responded to a call: there was a car off the shoulder of the road on the outskirts of Casper. He located the car, stuck in deep snow and with the engine still running. Pulling in behind the car with his emergency lights on, the officer walked to the driver's door to find an older man passed out behind the wheel with a nearly empty vodka bottle on the seat beside him. The driver came awake when the officer tapped on the window. Seeing the rotating lights in his rear view mirror and the state policeman standing next to his car, the man panicked, jerked the gearshift into "drive" and hit the gas. The car's speedometer was showing 20-30-40 and then 50 mph, but it was still stuck in the snow, wheels spinning. The policeman, having a sense of humor, began running in place next to the speeding, but still stationary, car. The driver was totally freaked thinking the officer was actually keeping up with him. This goes on for about 30 seconds when the patrolman yelled at the man ordering him to "pull over!" the man obeyed, turned his wheel and stopped the engine. Needless to say, the man from Casper was arrested and is probably still shaking his head over the state patrolman who could run 50 miles per hour. Who says policemen don't have a sense of humor?