Mooner’s Blog Roller Foiled; Fuck Rick Perry!


So. I don’t know if my life is driving you crazy but it is making me a total fucking nut case. My ADHD seems to have somehow caught ADD, and my distractions have become disturbances of major proportions. Cover that mess with the wet blanket of my obsessions, that has been soaked in the jet fuel of my compulsions, and I’m one errant spark away from total fucking decomposition.

I’m starting to think that all of those scientists over to Switzerland or Austria, or whereverthefuck they plan to build that Supercollider thingie, should take a break and study my brainwave traffic first. I’m sensing that a miles-long stainless steel tunnel is totally unnecessary for the production of split¬†atoms and de-structured atomic sub-particles.

The way my thoughts are spinning around at high speeds and slamming into each other lately, I’m thinking they could just suspend their precious little target molecules in saline solution, fill a hypodermic needle full of the salty brew and then jam it into my brain through my sinus cavities. If I could determine how to remove the experiment’s results without loss of motor skills, I’d volunteer.

I was actually feeling reasonably well when I got out of bed early this morning. I had made my selection for the fourth inductee over to the Blog Roller before going to bed last night and I decided to check in over there to her place before heading to the kitchen to face my family. Facing my family on Sunday mornings can often be laborious. What with the extra-large Sunday newspaper, and the recapping of the past week’s experiences and the planning for the coming week’s activities… well allow me to say, simply, that Johnson family Sunday morning breakfasts have broken grown men down into sniveling idiots.

When I logged on over to my fourth inductee’s bloggie site, I was immediately unsettled. Something had changed and it took a minute for me to get what it was. It hit me when I gave up my pursuit to find the change and looked at the latest blog posting. It hit me hard.

What I missed was the now removed picture of a very tall stiletto-heeled shoe with a caption that always makes me smile when I read it. I don’t always read it when I check in over there, but each time I do, I giggle to myself. The caption that was the accomplice of the high-heeled shoe was fucking hilarious.

But I read the content of the latest posting and was disturbed to read that this blogger had decided to clean up their blog act so as to not create disturbances elsewhere. That, dear readers, was a fucking conundrum for yours truly. That was a punch in my stomach.

That was a giant kick in the ass.

See, the settled-upon number four was actually my fifth choice, fifth behind my actual fourth choice. I decided to wait to name my original fourth choice until she starts posting on a regular basis again. It seems that many bloggers lack the vicious and evil drive to make postings that consumes Squatlo and me. I attempt to segregate my prejudice towards errant-posting bloggers, but if I can’t see at least a couple postings a week, I find myself required to move you down the totem pole that is my Blog Roller.

Holy shit. I have no fucking idea what I just said.

Look. I had already decided who was to be next on my list but a recent infrequency of postings caused me to wait in naming said to my list. I then moved on to my next chosen inductee only to log on over there and discover that she is changing her content.

How in the fuck can I name a dealie when the content is about to change? Really, howinthefuckingshit can I take that risk?

I need a Carta Blanca beer for shitsakes.

Fuck it, and FUCK RICK PERRY! I’m not doing anything right now. I’m going over to Squatlo’s place and looking up one of his fake Michele Bachmann videos. A little release and then I’m nighty-fucking-night.

Manana, y’all.

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2 Responses to “Mooner’s Blog Roller Foiled; Fuck Rick Perry!”

  1. Squatlo says:

    Falen’s a working woman now, earning a living and not spending nearly enough time writing on her blog. But when she was “regular’ her’s was a great place to hang out. Sigh…

    Now the Daft Scots Lass has decided to go all Disney Rated G on us, and I fear she’ll lose her edgy tone, too. Heavier sigh…

    Can’t have nuthin’…

  2. Squat. You are waaaaaay too fucking smart for me. How did you peg my aborted fourth and fifthers?

    But I now have a fourth and shall name names soon!


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