Archive for the ‘ General Bitching ’ Category

Paraguard Paranoia

2014-12-15 14.28.25I recently had my Paraguard Copper-T removed and what I discovered was kind of shocking. So, doing what I do best, I hit the internet to look for people with similar experiences. Oddly enough, I only found one. I figure that I can’t be the only one, so I’m posting my own Paraguard experience in case other women like me need to commiserate.  Continue reading


Gilford, NH – The New Police State

police-state-enough-yetWelcome to America.

Land of the free. Home of the brave.

Oh wait. We’re talking about Gilford, NH here. Let me rephrase that.

Welcome to Gilford, NH. Land of the free. Home of the brave. Land of the controlled. Home of the cowards.

At least, that’s what I get when I watch a video taken of Gilford School Board Meeting on May 6, 2014. The video has two parts. The first captures the actual discussion and Dr. William Baer’s removal. The second captures his arrest and the reaction of the police officer and videographer. The second part is further down in this post.

This is the state of the Union, people. Get used to it. Gilford PD, in conjunction with the SAU 73 School Board, is making America safer, by arresting one parent at a time.

<sarcasm>It’s clear that this man should be locked in jail for the remainder of his natural life. I mean, come on! He had a fucking opinion and he expressed it using – ooooh, scary – WORDS –  that exceeded a two-minute time limit. Heil, SAU 73 School Board! You sure do know how to take care of business.</sarcasm>

Before discussing the videos, let’s talk about the reason for Dr. William Baer’s attendance at the school board meeting. He was there to speak up about the school assigning a book called “Nineteen Minutes” to the 9th grade class. The book has a pretty explicit sex scene in it and the parents were upset that they weren’t notified in advance.

Here’s my opinion on the sex scene. Teenagers fuck like monkeys and think about sex all day long as it is, so the words in the book probably aren’t planting any ideas in their head. I think that my issue is in the fact that is was required reading. If a teacher assigned the bible to be read during a literature course, oh my fucking god, the horrors that would have gone on. But they assigned, I guess… in a way… porn. It wasn’t a book a kid picked up and decided to read of their own volition. It wasn’t a book that a parent had the choice of allowing or disallowing their child to read. It was a very explicit book that the teacher decided was in the students best interest to read. I’m kind of torn about this. I don’t believe in censoring, but I do believe in choice. And, I can say that I would have been mighty embarrassed sitting in a classroom with twenty plus other students discussing a chapter that contained something so graphic.

Here’s the passage of concern. I have to say that I’ve read a few romance novels in my life and a lot of them never came close to this amount of detail. Detail that I’m not sure a 9th-grade student really needed to be forced to read and graded on.

Congratulations, Susie! You got an A on your pornography test! Good luck with your new job at Vivid Entertainment.

“‘Relax,’ Matt murmured, and then he sank his teeth into her shoulder. He pinned her hands over her head and ground his hips against hers. She could feel his erection, hot against her stomach.

” … She couldn’t remember ever feeling so heavy, as if her heart were beating between her legs. She clawed at Matt’s back to bring him closer.

“‘Yeah,’ he groaned, and her pushed her thighs apart. And then suddenly Matt was inside her, pumping so hard that she scooted backward on the carpet, burning the backs of her legs. … (H)e clamped his hand over her mouth and drove harder and harder until Josie felt him come.

“Semen, sticky and hot, pooled on the carpet beneath her.”

Well that was exciting. Every 9th-grader needs to have a classroom discussion about the merits of hot, sticky semen and the fact that when it expels itself from the vagina it tends to pool on whatever is beneath it. Wait, they didn’t use a condom??? I have no problem with the book. I have no real issue with a teenager reading it if that’s what they CHOOSE or what their PARENTS choose. But how does something like this become part of the curriculum? Since when did the school system gain the ability to expose  underage children to literature that contains, what could be argued as, pornography?

What’s even MORE impressive is that according to this article, when Dr. Baer tried to read the excerpt aloud in front of the audience, he wasn’t allowed to. So… let me get this straight… The 9th grade class is required to read this book. Inside the book is a passage that talks about two teenagers fucking so furiously that the girl gets rug burns on her legs, and after they’re done it describes hot, sticky semen dripping into a pool underneath her. But the school board won’t allow the passage to be read aloud? What the fucking hairy fucking hell? Oh, I read a little farther into the article. Apparently since the board meeting was being filmed/covered, they COULDN’T allow the passage to be read because it VIOLATES FCC rules. Well, wow. The passage is so explicit it violates broadcasting and media rules, but it’s required reading for 14-year olds. I just pinched myself because I get the feeling that I have somehow stepped out of reality and into some dark surreality that I can’t comprehend.

But back to the other points. Since when did we lose our right to freedom of speech? Looking through the glass, darkly, I guess that what appears to have happened is that people following a higher moral path are punished, and those who oppose it rule. And because of the police-state that is fast becoming the norm, the average citizen has no way to fight what is about to happen. Terrifying.

You know all those sci-fi films set in a dystopian future. Where people are executed because they burped in public or they are herded around like cattle?  They’re not science fiction anymore, and this video proves it. When we arrive at a point in civic evolution where a School Board has the right to ensure that a parent no longer has the ability to speak their opinion without fear of being arrested and potentially having their lives ruined because of a criminal record, something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.

SAU 73’s School Board rules of order:


SAU 73’s Board Powers:


Where does it say that they had the right to have a man arrested because he expressed an opinion. And a very valid opinion at that. Where does that leave us? It leaves us in a police state. Or at least a police state in its infancy. The hell with arresting real criminals like child molesters and murderers and rapists. The true threat is the educated, well-spoken individual who dares to express their opinion publicly. It’s clear that this is a scare tactic, one designed to intimidate parents into silence for fear of the consequences. 

  • Next week, someone will be arrested because they put a quarter into a gumball machine and it didn’t spit out their gumball so they shook it gently. The charge will be destruction of property. Gotta get them dangerous criminals off the streets.
  • Next month someone will be arrested because they ordered a pepperoni pizza and got a sausage pizza instead and they complained to management. Their complaint lasted exactly 2.67 minutes.  A clear violation of the Gilford Act of 2014.
  • Next year a five-year-old child will be given porn by a dirty old pedophile and the child will get arrested because he yelled for help. Most obviously a case of disorderly conduct. Imagine the gall of that child for hollering in public.

Really interesting considering that Gilford’s Mission Statement says:


Does having a parent arrested for attempting to communicate with the school board seem to foster the skills described in Gilford’s own mission statement? Did arresting Dr. Baer promote personal responsibility? Nope. It actually showed the people in attendance that personal responsibility is an arrestable offense. What about promoting accountability? Don’t think so. The school board and police department obviously have no accountability. If they can, with a flick of their wrist, have a parent arrested because they talked out of turn, that’s a clear indication that they feel as though they have ascended to a new level where accountability is only used to persecute others. What about open communication? Dr. Baer was definitely communicating openly. The trouble is that the school board didn’t like what they were hearing. He exceeded a time limit. He talked out of turn. He said things they didn’t want to be held accountable for. What’s the solution? Well evidently it’s not finding an amicable resolution. It’s arrest.

People should be asking the Gilford School District, Board Members and Police Department some serious questions right about now. They should be called out on this atrocious act. Every parent in that district should be running scared right now because they’ve unleashed a monster.

Now onto other features of the first video which I find particularly enlightening.

Did you happen to notice the first man captured speaking in the video? How abruptly he stopped speaking? I think he had a lot more to say. I think  he would have continued, but I have a sneaky suspicion that he halted himself when he noticed the school board chair motioning for the cop. This is just my opinion, but the guy went from arguing for the rights of his children to shutting up far too fast. Is it possible that the residents of Gilford have seen this type of school board police-state behavior before and he sat down before they could decide that his opinion was excessive and arrest him?

Before you discount that theory, look at the people surrounding Mr. Baer. Do you notice something pretty strange? They ignore the entire event as it unfolds. They all know what is about to happen. They all know that it about to violate the very tenants of our constitution and civil rights, but they just sit there and pretend that it’s not happening. What the fuck, people? It could be you next. The lady sipping her water is wide-eyed but she says nothing. The lady in the brown suit-coat scans the room looking for something else to make eye-contact with. I assume this is because she can’t bear to face the man sitting behind her that is about to be arrested for talking out of turn. It isn’t until Dr. Baer is outside that a handful of people follow him out. Was that because of morbid curiosity or because they felt the need to take a stand or at least witness what the future police-state looks like? I didn’t hear anyone except the reporter speaking up and the woman who said that it should be the people who assigned the book in cuffs isn’t even speaking up about the fact that an atrocity was occurring before her very eyes. Kudos that she said SOMETHING, which is more than the rest of them, but they should all have jumped out of their seats when that cop walked over to him in the first place and protested. The point might have been made if that uniformed retard had to cart a whole room full of people to jail for “Disorderly Conduct.”

Look at them. Look at them all. The majority just sit there. I don’t know whether it’s in disbelief or whether they don’t want to be next. I can’t believe my eyes. Every time I watch it I want to scream, “Say something! Stand up for this man!” STAND UP FOR YOURSELVES. Complacency will be your own undoing. Allow shit like this to happen and it will keep happening and it will get worse. You might think you are immune because this time, THIS TIME, you got out unscathed, but it WILL happen to you. Gilford residents – don’t you know your rights? Don’t you know the difference between right and wrong? Can’t you tell what is disorderly conduct and what is not? This was WRONG, wrong, wrong, yet you ignored it. And by doing so, you tightened the grip of the institution around your OWN necks. It will come back to bite you. It may not be today or next year, or even in your lifetime. But imagine what kind of society you are creating for your children? Scary, scary, scary.

And the school board. Ugh. Don’t get me started. They should NOT have this much power. They are a bunch of parents and residents ELECTED to ensure the education of your children. Why are you giving them this much power? Not only did that meeting and arrest prove that they are the ultimate authority, but that they have unlimited power. They don’t like what you have to say? Off with his head! Don’t want to be challenged for a poor decision? Put him in stocks! That school board needs to be dismantled and never reassembled. They are a danger to society. And so is the arresting officer.

Let’s look at the second video.

Interesting to see the facial expressions of the arresting officer. There are a few times where you see him frown deeply. I can only hope that this is an outward expression of his inner shame. He should be very ashamed. When you can trump up charges on an individual because they spoke out of turn or for longer than two minutes at a fucking school board meeting, the fall of society has reached maximum velocity.

When it becomes a priority to arrest parents who speak up at a school board meeting, and allow rapists, and murderers, and child molesters to go free or lightly punished, there is no more hope left. Casey Anthony murders her daughter. She is free. George Zimmerman shoots a teenage boy. He is free. Politicians accept bribes and commit heinous crimes that get covered up. They are free AND running our country. So that actually starts to make sense. When our lawmakers and law enforcers are the true criminals, it only makes sense that they would go after the people who are the voices of reason.

Disorderly conduct.

I used to think that this meant someone who was creating a ruckus and was scaring people or threatening violence. Like someone who walks into a bar and starts throwing around tables and smashing bottles. After watching the videos, I realize that in today’s America, disorderly conduct means expressing your opinion at a public meeting for longer than two minutes or out-of-turn. I’m not a religious person, but Heaven Help Us! Where are we heading? What is next?

If we allow things like this to be brushed under the carpet. If we continue to elect officials that pervert rules to prevent civil liberty and constitutional rights, we’re no better than them and we deserve to sleep in the bed we’ve made. And what a dirty bed it is.

The arresting officer defended the arrest, saying:

“It’s not at all unusual to have town or school officials ask to have us present if they think there is a potentially hot topic,” Leach said. “There was no conspiracy, Mr. Baer just got out of hand, and I had to arrest him.”

He got out of hand. Out of hand. Think about that folks. Dr. Baer spoke just a few sentences. Used no profanity. Didn’t yell. Didn’t threaten. And that was considered out of hand to the point where he had to be arrested and charged with disorderly conduct. Think again the next time you express your opinion in public. You could end up in jail.

Reading through some of the comments on the articles I found I noticed that some people are adamant that Dr. Baer should have been arrested. I disagree. They are saying that because he talked out of turn and was asked to leave and refused to and continued speaking, arrest was the only option. Think about this for a minute. If every time in your life someone else wanted you to stop talking about a touchy subject they were able to have you arrested, how many times would you have been in jail. If every person was arrested for talking out of turn, there wouldn’t be anyone left to fund the government through taxes. Yes, he challenged them to arrest him. But was it necessary? No. And by the time the officer grabbed his hand, Dr. Baer had stopped speaking and the woman in the front was talking to someone in the back. Baer shut up. He was still removed. Still arrested. This whole incident could have been handled differently. Was he truly a threat? The threatening voice of dissent? Argh. At the very most, I could see the cop bringing him outside and telling him to go home and cool off. The arrest was the final abuse of power. It’s kind of like the saying I’ve often heard about raising kids, “Choose your battles.” This was a battle that could have gone outside and gone away and there wouldn’t be such an outrage about it. And I also disagree with the comments that he was throwing a tantrum and yelling. I can’t imagine what some of these people would think goes on at one of my family’s gatherings because I’ve seen ten times the disorderly conduct at Thanksgiving and it no one got arrested. Unreal.


Dr. William Baer’s daughter responds to the school board after her father’s arrest.



Nuts and Bolts

Nuts' nuts

Nuts’ nuts

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On The Possession of Superpowers

I discovered last night that I possess superpowers.  Please don’t tell anyone.  I would rather not end up in some government facility being autopsied alive or living out my life in an endless series of experiments.  I’m sure my secret is safe with you.

Throughout my life, I’ve often noticed things, things that make me different than others.  And by others, I mean men.  At first I thought it was just sensory, but after many years of careful analysis, have decided it goes far beyond my eyes, ears, nose, or mouth.  It extends into the realm of foresight, intuition, and reasoning.

What was it, you ask, that prompted this realization?  Nothing more than a nondescript, and rather filthy garbage can.  But not just any garbage can, a garbage can brought to planet Earth many generations ago by super-intelligent aliens from the Orion Nebula.  It’s has a cloaking mechanism that actually allows normal garbage, once it’s been in contact with the rigid, plastic polymer that coats it, to become invisible.

Yesterday started off like any other.  I worked until about 4:30pm; my boyfriend worked until 2:00pm.  He came home, played on the computer.  His little brother, Santos, watched Spongebob.  When I got home at about 5:00pm I walked through the front door into the living room and set my things down.  Dan and Santos both went into the kitchen and I followed them.  This is where things began to get hinky.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a great and terrible pile of trash.  Spewed out along my newly stripped kitchen floor were coffee grounds, egg shells, wrappers, bottles, cans, baggies, you name it.  All sporting a fresh coating of grunge.  Santos stood at the sink, rinsing out a cup.  Dan was digging through the dishwasher to get a plate.  Both were within five feet of this indoor landfill, yet neither seemed to notice.

“Do you see that?” I asked them, first looking at Santos, then Dan.

“See what?” Dan replies.  He looked at Santos as though asking, “What could she possibly see on this immaculate kitchen floor that I don’t?”

“Santos, do you see it?” I ask, this time  directing his gaze, with my own, towards the pile.


I look at the pile, back at them.  They stand, dumfounded, acting as though I might have finally flipped my bic.   When I don’t question them further, they go back to doing what they had been before our conversation.

And that’s when it dawned on me.  I’m the only one capable of seeing it.  I… I have… Oh my God!  I HAVE THE POWER!  These mere men, so lousy in design, don’t possess the powers that would allow them to see the invisible trash pile sitting in the middle of my kitchen floor.

Life’s mysteries were finally being answered.  Not  only did the new understanding of my superpowers allow me access into the male psyche, it showed me why every man I’ve ever been with has called me irrational.  If this garbage is invisible, how many other things in the house  are as well?  How many relationships have I sabotaged because of this lack of knowledge.  When I used to get pissed at my ex-husband for leaving dozens of piss filled soda bottles all through my house, he must have been thinking, “What kind of drugs are you on?”  Evidently, these piss bottles were of the same ilk as this garbage can.  Invisible, and therefore incomprehensible to the inferior, superpowerless male.

I glanced around the rest of the kitchen and started to see more clearly.  At the bottom of the sink sat a grisly, decaying pile of watered down food particles, all trapped in the strainer.   Every day of my life I used to bitch about this, now I know that they weren’t deliberately not cleaning it.  They just couldn’t see it.

The surface of my glass-top stove was covered with a thick film of grease, burned on food and other particles.  I see now  that when I used to say, “make sure you clean all the surfaces in the kitchen”, that they weren’t neglecting it because they didn’t feel like it, it was just that to them, my stove looked like four burners that hovered in mid-air, seemingly defying gravity.

I immediately made my way to each corner and crevice in my kitchen, examining the dust and dirt that was collecting.  Fingerprints on the switchplate, on the fridge, on the cabinets.  Dust on the trimwork, grime both on the edges of my cabinet doors and along my kickboard.  I needed further confirmation.

“Do you see this?” I asked, pointing towards the wall separating the kitchen and living rooms.  It was littered with fingerprints, smudges, and splatters.

They looked at the wall, puzzled.

They looked at each other.

They looked back at me, perplexed yet again and cocked their heads to the side.  Like dogs do when they hear strange sounds.

“See what?”

I  knew it.  They can’t see anything!  By now I’m beginning to  worry though.  What evil plans must the aliens have for our planet if they’ve turned all dust, dirt, fingerprints, garbage, and grease invisible?  It’s V, but real.  The aliens are trying to turn us against each other.  Instigating a revolution of the sexes. They figure that if they make women do all the cleaning, that eventually we’ll get so pissed off that we kill the men off.  Completely.  Entirely.

Then half the work is done for them.



Chocolate + Dogs = Bad

I must have broken a mirror, no a dozen mirrors, a while back because it seems like my life has been cursed since June of 2008.  It’s like I can’t get a break, something always has to be terribly wrong.  What happened today you ask?  My dog ate chocolate.

I have two Miniature Pinschers named Duke and Duchess.  Duke is 7 years old and weighs 12 pounds, Duchess is 5 years old and weighs 9.  Neither of them have any sense and both have pica.  They will gorge themselves until they puke and nothing is off-limits.  They will eat the most atrocious rot you can imagine and gladly go back for seconds.  Over the years they’ve survived a number of near fatalities that stemmed from things they ate.

In 2003, Duke got into a full bag of Raisenettes that my ex-husband had left out.  Somehow, once inside his digestive tract, the raisins rehydrated and became grapes again. I woke up to screams and wails coming from my kitchen at about 4am.  When I went out to see what was wrong, I found him hunched over like he was taking a dump and ky-eyeing like someone had gutted him alive.  On the white linoleum floor behind him  was a trail of grapes and diarrhea.  Duke wasn’t too happy and I can imagine, for his tiny little asshole, it must have been like given birth to centuplets because there must have been a hundred (not really) of them.   I never realized how very sick he could have been until the other day when I got a spam email from Dan’s mother warning of the dangers of raisins in dogs. Who would have guessed?

That same summer Duke decided to eat sand.  Not like a little bit of sand, but several mouthfuls.  He was sick for two days, puking up a mixture of sand and water.  And something bright green.  To this day I have no idea what it might have been, although I could venture a guess that it might have been gum or melted icecream???  I just remember seeing him driving his snout down into the dirt and scooping it up like a doggy-excavator.  Yum!

About a year later Duke managed to find a garbage bag that, I assume, a wild animal had dragged into the woods.  Inside it was a six-month-old roast that was more of a petri dish than meat by the time he got into it.  I couldn’t imagine what he was doing in the woods and all I could hear was him snuffling and scuffling in the leaves.  When I got out behind the shed I found him neck deep in mega-rot and loving every minute of it.  I grabbed his depraved ass up and put him inside.  I had to wear a special suit just to re-dispose of this bag!  Well, needless to say, that night Duke’s belly grew to epic proportions.  It was like he had the Ripley.  The bigger his gut got, the worse stench was seeping out of his mouth. It was like it was in his lungs or something. He got really sluggish and just laid around, not moving.  The next day he had taken to grunting and farting and still wasn’t moving.  I opened his mouth to find that his entire tongue was covered in these tiny dark reddish purple spots.  I still have no idea what he contracted, but it took him a full six days to recover.  There were a few times I thought I had lost him.

A few years back my retarded ex-husband had acquired some pot laced chocolate chip cookies.  He had fed them to some of his friends and when they ended up practically comatosed, he decided not to eat them himself.  I don’t smoke pot and I kept telling him to get rid of them.  One day they disappeared so I assumed he’d found a new victim to feed them to.  I hadn’t seen the paper announcing any unexpected deaths, so I didn’t worry.  He and I went out to dinner one night and we came home to a dark house.  When I walked into the living room I flipped the light on and heard the most agonized screaming coming from the spare room.  I just about had a heart attack it scared me so bad and before I had a chance to find the dog making the sound, she barreled out of the spare room and up the hall towards me.  Duchess was just running around, crashing into things, wide-eyed and frothing at the mouth. Not to mention shrieking like she was on fire.  I was terrified she had broken a bone, eaten a sharp object or something.  I couldn’t calm her down and Josh and I went through the house to see what might have happened.  I couldn’t find anything out of place.  I sat with her on the couch and she just sat there, panting, sweating, this horrible stench coming from her entire body, but mostly her mouth.  She couldn’t stand up straight and was flailing around like she didn’t know where she was in space.  As I was getting out the vet’s number Josh came back in to tell me that he’d found out what was wrong.  He held up an empty baggy.  At first I had no idea what he was referring to, then I realized what had happened.  World War III ensued.  He refused to take her to the vets.  He told me there was no way I was getting the dog out of the house, that he wasn’t going to jail.  So, I stayed up with my dog all night.  Watched her seize and stop breathing, pant and gasp for air, tremor, you name it.  So many times I thought it was her last breath.  Cried, unc0nsolable.  Hating my husband for his part in the whole episode.  By morning she seemed better, though she was acting strange and still couldn’t walk or balance.  She acted like she was drunk for three more days before she regained her balance.  I’ll never forget that night and never forgive it either.

Which brings me to tonight.  I hate chocolate.  I don’t eat it.  I don’t crave it.  I’m weird, I know.   About a week ago, my boyfriend Daniel brings home an extra large bag (24oz) of Hersey’s Semi-sweet Chocolate morsels.  Over the next few nights, he gnawed away at it and last night scurried it away into the computer room.  I didn’t realize this.  Because my dogs are my life, my life pretty much revolves around them.  They are the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing before I fall asleep.  Most nights, I wake up periodically all night if I hear sounds, worried they might be crying or something.  Obsessive I know, but I don’t care – I love them.

So Dan leaves this open, partially eaten bag of chocolate near his computer.  He did close the door, but never informed me he’d left a poisonous substance within paw-shot.  This afternoon at 1:30pm I took a shower.  Halfway through, Duchess started barking like a  freakshow and I got out, covered in soap and water and the first room that had a window overlooking the driveway that I could get to was the computer room.  I opened the door, looked outside, found nothing and then continued my shower.  I got out, got dressed and worked on some homework for a while.  At about 2:00 – 2:30 I heard one of the animals playing with a plastic bag.  Since they’re always into something, but I am secure in knowing I haven’t left anything bad out, I didn’t worry overly.  I hollered, “What are you into?” and Duchess came, licking her lips and all perky.  I never gave it a thought.  A little bit later I hear the plastic bag again and this time I get up to see what they’re into.  To be honest, what I envisioned was that they’d gotten into the bathroom trash.  I figured the plastic was a tampon wrapper.  Serious.  They do shit like that.  What I found instead was Duke, in the spare room, with his nose inside a bag of chocolate chips.  I yell, go over pick up the bag and realize that it’s empty but for about 6 chips.  At first I assumed Dan had just left those few so I texted him.  He tells me that there was about 1/4 of a bag left.  I freaked out.

I immediately look up chocolate toxicity levels in dogs and how to calculate a toxic or fatal dose.  According to ‘most’ sites, semi-sweet chips have about 150-160mg/oz of Theobromine (what makes them sick).  One really nice site actually reported it as 137mg/oz.

*** Duchess jumped down from the bed a few minutes ago and she didn’t come back when I called so I had to go out and look for her.  I got to the kitchen doorway and she barked at me but I couldn’t see her.  I walked in, turned on the light only to find her in the litter box, shoveling cat litter/shit into her as fast as she could  swallow.  I hope this is an indication that she’s feeling better.

Back to my story… Some sites list the levels at a whopping 230mg/oz.  This site scared me!  Most of them say that chocolate becomes toxic at 100-200mg/kg.  Duchess weights 9 pounds, which is roughly 4kgs.  This means she could consumer 400-800mg of Theobromine before it became toxic.  Guestimating how much was left in the bag I figured about 3-6oz.  At the median level of 160mg/oz, this meant that she consumed between 480 and 960mg.  Toxic dose either way.  Now I’m panicking for real.  I tell Dan that if my dog dies, he might too.

I try to find a way to make her vomit and all I can come up with is Hydrogen Peroxide.  One site says to give her 1 tsp per 10 pounds of body weight no more than twice.  I shove two rounds of 1/2 tsps down her throat, but much of it ends up in her fur.  She doesn’t vomit.  Dan finally gets home at 4:00-4:30pm.  Duchess is acting fine still.

I decided to give her another dose of H2O2 just in case, though.  This time I had Dan to help hold her still and I was able to get a full 3/4 oz into her by holding her lip up and pouring it in over her gums.  Within about ten minutes she vomited.  It had a tiny bit of melted chocolate in it.  I assumed most had been digested and since she didn’t act like she was going to vomit again, worried that we’d missed our opportunity.  A few minutes later she jumped onto the back of the couch and yacked down the cushion and onto Santos’ backpack.  This had a little bit of chocolate in it again, but nothing major.  She acted uneasy for the next few minutes and went outside.  We watched her go through an awful commotion shitting.  It wasn’t solid, but dark and liquidy.  She ran around hunched over for five full minutes before she came back in.  She ran around the living room briefly and then back towards the dog door.  Right in front of the door she hunched over and puked.  I have to add that all of her pukes were quite strategic.  The first ruining her new dog bed, the second on Santos’ stuff, and the third and most voluminous, on the ONLY white shirt that I own.  I had dropped it in the hall when I brought laundry out today.  I went to investigate and saw that she’d barfed up the mother-load.  The amount of chocolate in this batch scared the crap out of me.

Over the next hour or so her heart raced like the dickens.  She was breathing kind of fast and was very restless.  Well, she still seems restless in fact, though her heart isn’t go quite as fast as it was.  They say the half-life of Theobromine in the dog is 17.5 hours.  Humans metabolize it in less than an hour. Dogs don’t.  That’s what makes it so dangerous.  They’re getting a massive dose of speed and it lingers in their system for almost an entire day, or more if you consider the fact that only half of it comes out in 17.5 hours.

I’m not saying she’s out of the woods, but since she hasn’t declined I’m hopeful.  I’ll follow up in the morning, when hopefully, she’s up and about and acting like her old self.  Until then, don’t buy chocolate, or date men who are careless.


Duchess IS back to normal, thank God.  I didn’t get much sleep last night because she was just up and down and up and down all night.  At about 3:30am she woke up panting and breathing  really heavy and hard.  It kind of made me nervous so I stayed up with her.  She did settle back down though and by 11:0oam her heartbeat was just slightly higher than Duke’s.  I think she’s out of the woods at this point, being that her symptoms haven’t increased and it’s been about 22ish hours since she ate it.


  • Dry cocoa powder = 800 mg/oz
  • Unsweetened (Baker’s) chocolate = 450 mg/oz
  • Cocoa bean mulch = 255 mg/oz
  • semisweet chocolate and sweet dark chocolate is = 150-160 mg/oz
  • Milk chocolate = 44-64 mg Theobromine per oz chocolate
  • White chocolate contains an insignificant source of methylxanthines.

Based on the ASPCA Animal Poison Control Center (APPC) experience, mild signs occur in animals ingesting 10 milligrams of theobromine per pound of body weight, severe signs are seen at doses of over 20 mgs per pound of body weight, and 70 mgs/pound of body weight is a fatal dose for both dogs and humans. Just 2 ounces of baking chocolate or 4 ounces (1/4 pound) of dark chocolate contains a fatal dose of theobromine for a 15-pound dog, and death can occur within 6 to 24 hours of ingesting. If your pug eats as small an amount as 1 Tablespoon of semi-sweet chocolate chips, it may be fatal. Death from heart failure can also occur after a few days of chronic cumulative exposure (smaller amounts of chocolate eaten over several days). (source)

(table courtesy of)

Dog’s Weight Amount of Milk Chocolate Amount of Unsweetened Chocolate Approx. MG of
5 lbs. 4 oz. 1/2 oz. 200
10 lbs. 8 oz. 1 oz. 400
20 lbs. 16 oz. 2 1/2 oz. 900
30 lbs. 1 1/4 lbs. 3 3/4 oz. 1300
40 lbs. 2 1/2 lbs. 4 1/2 oz. 1800
50 lbs. 3 lbs. 5 1/2 oz. 2250
60 lbs. 3 3/4 lbs. 6 3/4 oz. 2700
70 lbs. 4 3/4 lbs. 8 1/2 oz. 3400

Telekinetic Pica (Video)

My final project for ART270: Digital Art I

267 photos and clay!


Cavemen: Why You MUST Evolve!

We know that you are genetically predisposed to be any number of undesirable adjectives, but the fact is, you simply MUST learn to adapt to civilized life!

The following photo was taken exactly ONE day after I had completely cleaned the kitchen from head to toe.  This is a prime example of how your Caveman ways will ultimately be your downfall.  Women can only take so much clutter and filth.  When their lives become a broken record, skipping from cleaning to working to cleaning to bitching at you to clean to working to cleaning to working to cleaning to bitching at you to clean, we tend to say ‘Bye bye’.

My Filthy Kitchen

My Filthy Kitchen

Let’s review the image in an attempt to identify the problems and devise solutions.

First, notice what the picture is missing….

If you answered, “Cavemen,” you have probably hit upon the single most important part of this blog post.

There are no Cavemen in this image, leading me to believe that Cavemen are like dogs.  Once they have shit something up, they conveniently leave the steaming pile behind for the XX’s to clean up. In this case, Caveman A has decided that he’s going to bed at 1:00pm so he can be rested for work (his first week since May).  Caveman B has been shipped off to the home of the God of All Caveman to be punished.  The kitchen has looked exactly like this since last night.  Both Cavemen spent the entire evening seeing how close their molecules could get to the molecules of the couch.  Neither had enough energy to fight against the gravity or cohesion of our living room furniture to make their way in to the kitchen and clean it.


What a brilliant question!  Well, I firmly believe that both of them were fairly certain that if they left the mess, since today is my last day off, that I would be compelled to clean it in their stead.  See, the difference between Cavemen and XX’s is that Cavemen are like wolves.  They want to wallow in the scent of their prey.  I guess since they eat food from the kitchen, they want to live and smell like their food (and the mold that grows when it spoils). Probably so that when they do happen  to go into the kitchen to grab their 20th cup of the day, empty a container and leave it in the cupboard/refrigerator/freezer, or stare at the strange and mysterious metal things in the nearby laundry room, that they don’t accidentally scare any inanimate objects.  Just a guess.  I could be wrong.

My dishwasher is pulled out of the cupboard because we found that while I was living in California and renting, the renters allowed a leak to destroy the floor under the dishwasher, sink and now part of my floor.  I cleaned this whole area on my last days off because I was worried about us breathing in mold and fungus.  I assumed that after the space had dried, they would take the initiative to move the big washy thing back, but they didn’t.

The rest is self-explanatory.  Just a frigging mess and I think that they assume it’s like a prize for me.  Maybe they think I don’t have enough to do on my days off already.  Maybe they think that cleaning is my hobby.  Maybe they are like cats and that leaving a mess for me to take care of is a sign of love and reverence.

Die Cavemen, Die!

When I bitch at Caveman A about the mess, he immediately scratches his head and looks for Caveman B.  He goes to B and pounds his chest like a chimp.  He jumps up and down and grunts and blats and oomphs.  Caveman B rolls his eyes, sighs and replies, “Unga bunga.”

I watch this display and realize how the term “Passing the Buck” was coined.  If there had been a dead deer carcass laying in the middle of my kitchen instead of a dirty griddle and a broken dishwasher, Caveman A would have picked these items up and thrown them at B.  Not that I couldn‘t imagine a dead deer being buried somewhere in that mess! It certainly wouldn’t  be a  stretch, sadly.

The fact is, nothing was accomplished.  No knowledge was taken from this.  Are your brains simply not designed to make connections?  Are you incapable of evolving?

To make matters worse, fuel the cave-fire, whatever you want to call it, we went to town today to procure fresh supplies. You know, more things to dump into the kitchen just before my day off.  When we pulled out of the driveway I happened to notice that the garbage ‘pile’ had somehow grown exponentially.

I asked my Caveman what had happened and he made a sound like of like Scooby Doo used to.  That “Ruh?” questioning sound.  The… I know what you’re asking, but I going to play dumb sound.

I repeat my question in simpler terms.

“You see messy mess?”


“Why messy mess?”




And the only functioning higher level brain function kicks into gear in his miniscule Caveman mind.  Blaming.  Yes, Cavemen might be just a giant sexually mature infant, but the one thing they know how to do effectively is Blame.

“Why messy mess not in shed?”

“You no like stinky.”

“Me no like messy mess more than me no like stinky.”

“Me fix when warm yellow thing go away and then come back again.”

“No, me fix when get back home.”

We get back home.  We pile more junk into the kitchen.  Caveman decides instead of helping me, he’ll eat.  I go outside and start mucking through the most disgusting pile of strewn garbage you can imagine.  For all the Cavemen who live in the boonies, Put Your Fucking Trash in a Container.  A container qualifies as something that the trash goes in.  This excludes YARDS and PORCHES.  It INCLUDES garbage CANS and Sheds.

Caveman comes outside after I have almost finished cleaning up the mess.  I have no nice words.  At least none that are longer than four letters.

I come back inside.  Caveman follows.  Caveman heads for the bedroom, smiles at me and blows me a kissy kiss, all nicey nice.

I want to tell Caveman to stick his head in a vicey vice.

Caveman continues smiling (there’s a reason).  He would like me to finish washing his clothes since he’ll be in the bedroom doing more important things like watching TV and napping.

I respond to Caveman by telling him, “Sure, I’ll just add that to my list.  I’ll be cleaning until midnight as it is, what’s one more thing.”

This was at 1:00pm.  Caveman is still awake (it’s now 5:00pm), I can hear him.  Me thinks that Caveman was just avoiding helping me clean.  Caveman is gunna have wet clothes tonight… har    har   har

Let’s look at this bitch blog as an Aesop’s Fable.  For the Caveman reader, please take away the following:

Moreso than anything else that you can think of, resentment is the one thing that will thrust you from the cozy life of the caveman who has a XX to have sex with to living with other Cavemen and wishing that you had used that little walnut sized thing deep between your ears.  If you are only capable of doing the teeniest amount of things around the house to help your XX, do them well.

Realize that five minutes of ANYTHING useful will mean hours and hours of not hearing the shrieking of your woman.

Let me list five minute activities that are guaranteed to make YOUR life happier.

  • Throwing a load of dishes into the dishwasher
  • Throwing a load of laundry into the washing machine
  • Throwing  a load of laundry into the dryer (make sure you did the previous step first)
  • Bringing an armload of dirty clothes from the bathroom/bedroom/spare room to the laundry room
  • Putting garbage in the shed as opposed to on the lawn where all the creatures in the nearby woods will turn it into a smorgasbord.
  • Putting gas in the car before you come home so you don’t leave your XX stranded on empty 3/4 of the time
  • Emptying the trashcan/s
  • Running a vacuum over a floor
  • Running  a Swiffer over a floor
  • Wiping down a counter
  • Rinsing out the sink
  • Wiping pubes off the back of the toilet
  • Using the toilet brush to scrub skid marks off the inside of the toilet bowl

You realize that this list goes on and on right?

All of these activities could be easily incorporated into larger, more pleasurable activities.  Eventually, if you’ve been trained properly, they should become automatic.  For example: When taking a shit, don’t leave the bathroom without the clothes from the hamper because YOU KNOW your next trip will be back to the kitchen to replenish your shit manufacturing system.

So back to the initial statement regarding evolution.  In the case of you, the Caveman, it’s a process where you realize that even though you are still infantile, that by being a completely irresponsible, inconsiderate retard that you may find yourself all alone in the near future.  Alone is not fun.

Grow up and take some responsibility before it’s too late.  You  will be a happier Caveman if you learn how NOT to be so Cavemanesque.