Materialistic Me

It took me a long, long time. I finally broke under Placebo's pressure and bought a Scooba. It is one of my favorite things. Ever. So thanks Pbo! Got me thinking- I have lots of fanfuckingtastic things that I can only highly recommend- you must go out and buy one of each right this second! Well, maybe not, but still.. Of course the first favorite being Scooba. It washes the floor. Simple as that. No mops, no bucket. It even sings to tell you it's done. How groovy is that? With all wood and white tile floors. Ah the exhilaration I get hearing it humming along in the kitchen.
My coffee machine rocks! In case I failed to mention it- I have a real thing for coffee. The only problem with I have with coffee is the seemingly inefficient speed of delivering caffeine to my system. The next best thing to a coffee IV bag is my fantabulous Saeco coffee machine. It grinds by the cup, so I never have to have the old sludgy coffee taste that had me wasting asstons of money by constantly making fresh pots. It was a present. It wasn't cheap, and we are gonna buy a transformer so we can take it with us to the states. It love it to death.
Cats... ups and downs- they never have to be walked, and for exercise all you need is a walnut or foil ball, a string, and a blanket. One of my cats has a thing for drinking straws. Cat+Starw equals hours of entertainment as she tries to figure out "How the hell did it jump under the T.V. like that when I hit it?!" The down side? Cats shit in a box. In the house. The box needs cleaned constantly. That's why god made littermaid. Okay, maybe god didn't make it- but it is a heavenly thing. It scoops and rakes the litter and dumps it in a closed bin. It works out for everyone. The cats always have clean sand- I don't have to see kitty-roca sitting in there waiting to be scooped by yours truly- let's face it, being stared down by a cat turd while on the way to do other chores is disturbing at best. Yes little bits of litter still get on the floor- see previous item called "Scooba".

Well, that's it for this installment of "go get you one". I'll find more to list... maybe a list of stuff I think sucks and wouldn't give away to an enemy.

Drive By

Okay, so I was looking in my comments, as I do daily, and see that I have a rather nasty comment left for me by some asshat named Kent Beckman. Now I know that is his name because he is one of those silly asses who uses hisname@yahoo.com. (Feel free to drop him a line!) He also either hit my site from a search engine and found a single page of my blog to loose his venom on- or he actually read almost 2 years in to my stuff before leaving his rather assholish comment.

So, as to not deprive the fucktard of his 5 minutes of fame, let me plaster his shit on my front page- as I said- feel free to shoot him a line at hisname@yahoo.com:

You are the most angry-evil bitch I have run accross in a long time. I think you should have to go live in the real world where couples each have a job and have to pay for health care. Where you have to buy groceries at market prices and pay taxes on them.
You are fucking spoiled. Who wants to fuck a snot nosed whiny bitch. Your old man must be hard-up or getting the real pussy somewhere else.
Do the world a favor and get those baby producing parts taken out, then you can find something new to bitch about.
Kent

And now- let me go ahead and reciprocate, you twat. First- learn to use your spell checker. Second- This blog is not for you. It is for me. It's kind of like therapy. My anger is better let go here than at the people around me.

You think we don't pay for health care? Hmm... well, albeit, our premiums are low for our coverage, and it is a great HMO- however- most people don't go to work knowing it is their job to take a bullet for a loud mouthed shithead like you, and most wives don't live with fear months at a time, scared to turn on CNN in front of their kids, because Daddy is "over there". I think we pay our dues.

And for the record- in the states, I did work, you dick, and when we go back to the states, I'll be working outside of the home again, you dick. When was the last time you lived in another country and had to find a job that paid well enough to cover child care, had decent hours, and still left enough money to make it worth it to blow a tax bracket- in another country?... no, likely you are a typical guy who doesn't give a second thought to other people who don't live in the United States.

Blah blah, market prices, blah blah... eat me. How about you get put on a controlled budget knowing you'll never make as much money as some guy in the same career field for 20 years on the outside. Most enlisted personal live rather modestly- it's called a fixed income... and our prices, like yours are going up too. Oddly, our salaries- like yours are not keeping up with the change.

So fuck you. You don't know me. All you know about me is that I have a place to vent my frustrations so I can show a happy face to the people in my life who matter. YOU are not one of them. I may put it out there- but it is usually more comedic relief than anything else. Sorry you weren't born with the intellect to decode a twisted sense of humor.You are an internet troll who has little better to do than worry about nickel and dime shit that is none of your business, and post venomous shit on someone else's page.

You're obviously a cock. Live day in and out with the same person for 12 plus years through the best and worst of times. See if you don't feel like blowing a screw or two loose. Live 3000 miles away from everything you know (that would be America, dumbass) for 6 years, lose family members to death in your absence, oh- and have your best friend of 15 years hang himself and not find out about it for weeks because they don't know where to find you. See if maybe you wouldn't find a blog to vent on for relief. Break your leg in three places, and live on the fourth floor of a building without an elevator. Have the friends you make pack up and leave and accept it as normal that you feel alone so often. I am quite sure a judgmental prick like you couldn't pull it off, even with a blog.

I wouldn't worry about my husband, or my pussy, or what we do with it for that matter. If you think that is all there is in a marriage, you are sadly misguided- it is the dishes, and kid's flus, and the laundry, and the car repair that makes the whole thing work- perhaps you've not had a relationship that didn't revolve around your hard dick... There is no need for him to go find pussy anywhere else, buster, he seems more than happy with what we've got.

I also went through a very long arduous time of suffering with uterine damage and excruciating pain- ending up having my "baby making parts" taken out. It was a really difficult time for me. Thanks for bringing it up, dickhead. I can only equate what I went through as you being kicked in the balls every 10 minutes for 4 days, and do it every 3 weeks. You'd shrivel your ugly ass up and die... but thanks for pointing that whole baby making thing out. Very classy.

Perhaps next you would like to counter by attacking people with Bi-polar disorder, and how they cope and live daily with a difficult and overly stereotyped disorder. Maybe one or two of them have outlets like, I dunno.. BLOGS maybe to work out issues. They put them in public because it helps them work through it by going back later, re-reading it, and seeing how other people responded- to put it in perspective. Maybe people like me need outlets so we can deal with assholes like you.

This is how you spend your time? Talking about other people's husband's fucking other women? What a twat. Well, there you go kentbeckman@yahoo.com, there's your fame and glory, e-troll. Have a fucked day. I shan't give you a second thought.

I didn't forget

April 12th was my best friend's birthday. I didn't forget. In fact, I have a gift for her, and was going to send it- but I hate the post office here and everything about it. Since I will be able to hand deliver it soon, I decided to hang on to it.. Cause it will be that much better to get to watch her open it. It's been six long years since we have sat together, had a beer, and laughed and cried til morning.

I don't have many friends, and though it sounds cliché to say I have acquaintances, but few friends. I can count on my fingers the number of real friends I have made, on one hand the number I have kept over the course of years. In almost all our years, we have had a total of 2 fights, of which only one was serious enough to cause a schism. It lasted a few months, and we picked up where we left off, as if it never happened.

So a little about her, this fabulous woman who shares half of my soul and brain. Heather. We have been friends for... (holy shit, lemme take a breath here, over feeling OLD)... Almost 19 years. We met sophomore year in high school, and it was hate at first sight. Let's see- she had on this designer suit, complete with pantyhose and matching heels and purse. Supermodel hair do, flawless makeup on this classic Victorian face. I saw her coming, shoes first, sitting on the bench in the gym. I was in a flannel t-shirt, ripped up jeans and hair pulled into a hasty pony tail. (I didn't do mornings then,either.) As I had just recently been displaced to Vegas from Scottsdale, I was rather defensive. From what we found out later, she saw me and felt equal disdain- the tom-boy who seemed to look more through her than at her; who didn't give a shit what she or anyone else thought. It took a badminton game in PE, and an offhanded, off-color comment about the very odd teacher some weeks later to kick things off between us.

Here we are eighteen plus years later, 6000 miles apart, and still joined together. Her mother fucking HATES me with a white hot passion. I take comfort in that-and maybe will dedicate an entire post to THAT story later. :) We also share a brain, and it drives our husbands bat-shit. The four of us go out, and they see the looks going back and forth. Most of the time, "I don't even have to say it". She just knows what I am thinking, as I do her. There were many times when we would have that "thing" going on- when across town from each other, I would call her because I knew something was wrong. She'd bump her head- I'd get the headache. Actually, I can see how it would creep them out.

A few more things about Heather...

~She's a fantastic dancer. I am a great singer- She can't sing, and my dancing looks like a seizure when compared to her. We don't give as shit, and do it anyway.
~An unshakable faith in those she loves, even if it is, at times, completely undeserved.
~Class. She holds her head up, even if swimming in a river of piss and looking for a tree.
~While I am the pragmatist, she is the dreamer and hopeless romantic. It works out for both of us. She keeps me dreaming- I keep her grounded.
~She taught me "Gracious under Pressure". i.e.- tact- tell them to go to hell in a way to have them looking forward to the trip... I taught her "FTFF". (fuck the fuckin fuckers)- i.e. Be yourself and if they don't like it, that's not your problem. She softens me, I toughen her, and between us a formidable strength I would not like to come up against in someone else.
~When our husbands are dead, we are going to buy an island somewhere... maybe roll old men for their money.
~Though she comes across as fairly serious, therein lies her incredible sense of humor.
~"Does this dress look okay?".. Her... "NO! It looks like shit! Take it off!"
~She is everything I am not, and the perfect compliment of my every facet.
~She gets me. What else is there? Totally and completely... she just...gets it.

I miss her terribly, even though I can feel her with me.
I could never forget her birthday- I just want this one to be a little special, even if forced by time and distance to wait a few more weeks.

Moment Over

Ha! That was short lived. The quiet is gone... that is not to say that my brain is back to chaotic. At least, not yet. It is however, more focused. Wow- this sleep thing is fucking awesome! Maybe I should be exhausted more often. Pushed to the brink of cracking up- .

Oh! Shit! I didn't tell you about Friday! K2 came home early so I could take his car to the pharmacy, as mine was still dead and pissed. His car was low on gas.. now I probably could have made it there and back on what was in there- but the stupid light came on, and in that gas hoggin' whore, I get really jumpy... so I stopped to fill it. Grabbed some adult beverage refreshments for later while I was there, and figured. no big deal- I have almost an hour to get there. Since I was just picking up an already filled script, that was time to spare. Cruised down to Ramstein, feeling better that I would be able to get my meds, and put a halt to this stupid shit cycle of zombie sleep deprivation.

UNTIL... Duh duh dunnnn.... I pull into the clinic parking lot, and it is empty. Empty at 3:45 p.m. On a Friday. So, it was apparently a goal day... or family day... or a training day... or whatever else kind of bullshit that I could not wrap my head around at that moment. They were obviously closed. Yes, I still felt the need to get out of the car and walk up to the door... go inside and hear the nothing inside the dark building full of closed doors and empty rooms. Crickets! Crickets, I tell you! Now, after almost a week of hardly any sleep, and the little bit I did get being broken into 45 minute chunks throughout the 3 or 4 hours I was laying there, I got a little emotional. I welled up as I waked back to the car- and sat in the driver's seat, in an empty parking lot, and had myself a good old fashioned crying jag.

Anyway, came Monday, and the opening of the pharmacy... and the first unbroken night of sleep in a week. Then the haunting quieting of my mind earlier. Remember how it sounded on September 12th? When there were no planes flying anywhere? It was eerie, but not in a way you could quite identify...? Well, that was what it felt like- in there- where the cobwebs live between my ears-. Now my mind is back at work- but it is calm. Almost orderly. Maybe I needed that crying fit in an empty parking lot.

Feeling out of focus, depressed, and majorly mindfucked? I have the cure! Sleep deprivation of at least 6 days, a mini-breakdown- complete with the self soothing of rocking and wailing like an Italian Widow- and then a good hard sleep.

You hear that?

It's quiet. There is a bit of sun steaming onto the floor, the cat is sleeping where he normally does- flattening my couch back with his crushing weight.. But it's unusually quiet. In the house, but more so in my head. Perhaps the side effect of the first full night's sleep in over a week. I wouldn't even say I am quietly contemplating things like I usually am prone to do in down times... it is just- blank. Sure, the look around brings the bits of "Gotta clean that", or "That needs to be thrown out." or, "We're out of milk.", but not the racing thoughts of moving, packing, orders, money, blah, blah, blah. stress. stress, stress. Don't get too excited- it's not a feeling of contentment, but contrarily wise, not depression either... it's actually a rather curious sensation. I feel like I SHOULD be working something out. I'm just not.

I was folding a basket of clothes when I realized it. First time I wasn't hating laundry- mostly because I was on some kind of auto pilot. Maybe this is the precipice before I get across to accepting, or even looking forward to the new home, new place, new something. Oh, you think maybe I am detaching from here? Because that is definitely worth celebrating. Motivation is often easier when I have a helping of "wanna".

I just feel mentally clear, now if there was just something to look at with this perceptual mind set. Odd that since I do the majority of running, calling, and resolution for the family that a moment of mental quiet would be so... disquieting, so much so that it makes me stop and take notice.

In fact, now that I am putting it into words, yeah, maybe... yep... it feels like being okay with all this shit I having been beating my head against for months. The move, the cars, the kids social speed bumps, the stateside family stuff, the money pinching... No, still not shit hot on the idea of flat ass cold North fucking Dakota, but I am sure I have been through worse. Christ on Crutches! Now we're getting somewhere.

I think I'll go have a bubble bath. I could go sift paperwork, make phone calls, or something productive, but right now- it can wait. Why waste an enchanted moment of mental peace?

Define: Bad Week

It's not over yet, is it? This week I mean. Let's review, shall we?

With Monday came the break of my son's fever! Yay- he can go out to play... That's where the good part ends. As Monday also brought my white knuckled visit to the dentist. Beyond the fact that I have a suspicion of anyone who wants to stick their fingers in other people's nasty ass mouths for a living, the smell of a dentist's office puts me on the verge of throwing up all over the nice clean floor. Plus- I was sporting the fever my son gave me for a weekend present, including headache and sore throat.

And What. The. Fuck is up with the dental industry? After how many years, could they MAKE a variable size to those damned Xray slides so they don't cut up the mouth of anyone not sporting the mouth of a barnyard mule?! My BP was through the roof (well, 120/80 is through the roof for me). Not only did I get the supreme pleasure of being in there on Monday- but I have to go back.
Appears I have other fillings also crumbling from same said previous asshole dentist who put in the one that has already fallen out... and I have what she says looks like a NEW cavity in one of my teeth. FUCKING JOY. So- we'll be back in the chair again- and we will be sedated- or we will likely bounce off walls and end up hiding in a closet like a stray cat.

Ah- Tuesday. Can't bitch much about Tuesday- other than the kids doing the usual song and dance of fuck around, fuck around, fight. Looked in my pill bottle Tuesday night, and to my chagrin see that that was indeed my last pill. Fucketh. Tried to call the refill line, and it was, as usual, not working... so I figured I could go on ahead and call the next day and go pick them up. Kev took the kids out for awhile, and they got to spend the allowance cards. They came back home, joyful, full of glee and really noisy. We all know what I fan of noise I am.

Wednesday rolls up, call the pharmacy, and get told my refill would be ready tomorrow. Not in the mood for an argument, and as it is just for my Ambien, I say okay, fine, whatthefuckever. Then I spent 2 hours in the kitchen cleaning. My stove sucks- it's an electric piece of shit range, and there are these spots between the burners and range top that have black shit in them. I can't get it out- so I think- Hey- I'll pull the burners out, so I can clean the edges. Ambitious, yes? Once I finally figured out how to lift the range top, I found I can't take off the burners to clean out the black shit caught in the cracks. I was genuinely dismayed for about 2 minutes.
I thought about attacking the mini blinds, but screwed it off in lieu of the walls instead. Just wanna extend one more thank you to the fucktards in housing who thought filling a FAMILY (ie, kids and mess) housing unit with pure white tiles on both walls and floors was a great idea. Good call there, are-tards. Top notch thinking.

Here we are. It's Thursday. Note- I was up until 4 a.m. Two reasons for that- one, I was helping deal with some drama within our little gaming community. Drama and gaming may not seem to go together, but get a group of 100 people together and you are bound tp have shitheads involved. As most of them are in the states, and it is something I committed to, I was around. Didn't mind a bit... plus, I wasn't much feeling like sleeping- as when I go a few days without Ambien, my schedule likes to reset itself to insane.

Onwards... I get up around 10ish to spend about 30 seconds talking to the hub, and start the pounding of coffee and aspirin. Called the pharmacy to make sure refill is ready, and woohoo- it is. Called the "sick fucks who put fingers in mouths for money", or as you might say- the dentist- to schedule the appointment for further torture. Nothing available.... They told me to call today to make this appointment, and there are none. Guess I can call again tomorrow- at this rate I'll get on the goddamn airplane to move the same day as my drill-n-puke.

The kids and I decide we'll go out for a late lunch and errands. Awesome, gave me a few minutes to grab a quick nap before showering and war-painting of face to hide jumbo-tron zit on my chin... and the little girl wanted to lay down too. We cuddle up under soft sheets and warm blankets for a nap. It was sweet and pleasant. 25 minutes later, the doorbell rings. It was one of their friends- (the same one who had come by at 10:30 when I had one eye open to ask if they could go out)- He again wanted to take them out to play. Told him we were napping and would be going out later, so they would be around after that.

My sweet darling daughter tried, but was unable to get back to sleep after the door disturbance, so she got up. 10 minutes later the little "angel" was in there trying to talk to me in my nearly comatose state. SHe came in every 10 minutes there after... like a walking snooze button. I finally asked her, "Do you remember Mommy setting the clock alarm?" She nods. "Okay, then why are you in here trying to wake me up?" She didn't know... seriously she said, "I don't know." I looked at the clock. I had 15 more minute left of the hour and fifteen I had set forth with in the beginning of the nap fiasco, so I said fuck it, and got up. Back to coffee and aspirin pounding on the way to the shower.

Get naked, get clean, get dry, get half dressed. Here's a secret about Freud- she puts on her pants, socks, shoes, bra... and then does her hair and face... In a bra. Whilst trying not to stab the mascara brush into my eye, I was listening to my son call my daughter a "big butthole", and my daughter freak out because the socks she had didn't feel right on her feet. The fucking doorbell again! So much for not sticking the make up in my eye. The same boy was at the door again, asking for them to go out and play again... and my son tells him, "We are leaving in a few minutes". The little basta... um... boy pops off with, "JEEZ! How long does it TAKE?!" Had I not been standing in afore mentioned bra ensemble, I would have gone to the door and said something unnecessary and evil to a child that is actually a good kid, and one of the few I approve of being friends with my children.

Hey- we gotta go, right? Daughter can't find her shoes, her hair still looks like a mop, I can't find my fucking checkbook, son pissed at me that I won't let him take a football to the pharmacy to play with while we wait... get hair done, find scattered shit, grab needed items, we're on our way! WEEE!

We whisk out the door, and pile into the car- cue obviously necessary monkey shit fight over who sits in what seat in the car. Once asshatery is quelled, it's time to go. Insert key, turn key... nothing. Hmm... clutch in, check. Brake on, check. A/C, lights, and radio knobs set to off, check. Turn key again, get sickening click and silence of a dead battery. Had I tried to cuss the car out, I wouldn't have been able to- even I can't verbalize that many dirty words that fast... and I didn't want to scare the children. Back upstairs, take a deep breath, and call hubby, and leave message about dead car.

The kids are outside playing with their friends, the husband is on his way home, and the fucking cat just hocked up a hairball on the floor. Can't wait to see what Friday has in store, but I think I may go get some beer... been a long time since I have had a nice cold one, and I think I will appreciate it. God knows I don't have time for the nervous breakdown I so desperately deserve.

Go Help... Or Else

A fellow blogger in our little corner of the internet is now fighting her third battle with fucking cancer. There is a fund to send her to Disneyworld. I am a big believer in the Magic of Disney. There is truly nothing like it. Head on over and donate what you can today. Thanks.

A Few Weeks

Holy Shit! Hide! It's coming!

The move of course. It's Mid-April and we have less than 3 months left here. As I look around the house, there is SO much still needing done, but so much that has to wait to be done. Like re-painting the walls to white. If we do it now, we'll likely have to re-do it again to remove finger marks... shit like that. I have made some progress in sorting the closets. This week will be dressers. The storeroom is a never ending process of clusterfuck.... so we won;t talk about that.

By the by, I am still hiring a man with truck to help me haul shit to the recycle center. Payment made in beer, pizza and $50. Duties will include lifting old box springs, loveseat and changing table into YOUR truck, along with a few varied bits and pieces of shit I no longer want or need. OH- and on old Christmas tree... that one is upstairs... and clothes- those go to the thrift shop... It's not an easy job- but YOU have to do it. Call me. :)

The prospect of Grand Forks- yes, still dismal. Still flat, cold and boring. There do seem to be plenty of job opportunities in the fast growing career field of food service, as well as the open ended chance to advance in the business of newspaper delivery. Creamed Christ on Toast- I am sure I'll find something.

The plusses- no more AFN. Nor will I be relegated to always shopping AAFES for shit. I will be so happy to leave those bastards behind. I will be able to get something other than Burger King when I feel the compulsive need to stuff 3000 calories a bite into my face. I bet 31 flavors there has 31 flavors of cie cream- recently the Baskin Robbins here went from 20 flavors down to 12.... they still fly the 31 flavors flag though. Bet I can even go out to a place where their idea of "seafood" isn't last week's random white fish. (I don't think Germans know what Lobsters are.)

We want to do leave in route and make time for a little bit of family time at home. This trip MUST include time in Las Vegas, and perhaps other desert destinations to dry out my sinuses for the first time in six fucking years, and allow my hair to be straight, sans humidity kinkiness. Want some time with family and friends... Fuck- I can't think about that shit now. I have to get us OUT of here first.

Time to write more lists- which my shrink tells me is very helpful and therapeutic for crazy ass folks who have a hard time staying on task while not losing one's mind.

No Fucking Coffee

Monday was a fairly shitty day all around. We can start with Sunday night, actually. Rachel came out here at midnight and told me she had a headache, so I gave her some water and sent her back to bed. She got back up at 3 a.m. looking like she had been hit with a ball bat. I got to bed soon after that, just KNOWING shit would hit the fan in the morning with her, and that she'd be sick.

Monday morning we wake bright and early (a mere 4 hours after going to sleep) to one child puking and a fever of 103.1, one coughing his guts out and 102.7. The Hub had his PT test, and when he came home a few hours later, he was broken; as in broke, as in hurt, and pretty much more of a household patient than helper. Oh, and we were out of coffee beans for my super coffee-o-nator, so I was hunting around in vain for the components to the old coffeepot. No coffee. Fan-fucking-tastic!

Called the school, and spent the better part of the day running back and forth between the bleating calls of, "MOOOOOMMMMM....?" and sending them back to bed, squelching the bickering of what Disney movie to watch, and who got to use the bath tub first... (and no fucking coffee.) Tried to run the vacuum and got yelled at by the kids for making too much noise. Tried to take a shower, and had to rush it, as I couldn't be in there 3 minutes without a crisis calling me forth. Couldn't go to the store to get medicine- oh, and I was almost out of smokes too for those few minutes I could steal away to go out on the patio. Still no fucking coffee.

Mid-day, I was stealing a minute to eat something, when I felt a crunch that shouldn't be there. Hmm.. could be something new they added in lunch meat- but then... no. A piece of my filling had broken out of my back molar. Fucking awesome. (And no fucking coffee.)

So here it is a week later- one child went back to school on Wednesday- the other has missed an entire week of class, and still has a fever- it's like the never ending ick. Ever had a kid with a fever for 6 fucking days? They get irritable not only from feeling like shit, but from being restricted to bed or the couch for a week. (How about a wife dealing with a sick kid for 6 fucking days? Pity the husband.) We've been to Peds- for nothing, except the bastard being typically late, and as unhelpful as usual. He didn't offer me coffee, either, just a healthy shovelful of bullshit, as if I were one of his typical panicky mothers.

More of my filling has turned to bits everyday, and only about 50% of it is in tact. Makes me hate the son of a bitch dentist years ago who put it in when I asked for Silver and he said he doesn't do that At the time he said this white shit was safer. Safer for who? The poor bastard who has to go in and replace it and pray my dental-phobic ass doesn't bite his digits off?. Fuck wad- my silver fillings are 25 years old and still there- this one? Well- about 8 years old and falling apart.

I missed a dental appointment I made when I was sure this thing would have run it's course by week's end, my son is still febrile, coughing and miserable. Husband is still broken, and the daughter is grumpy because her big brother can't go out to play with her.

At least I finally got some coffee.

How Do They Find Me?

Okay... seriously- be afraid. These sick fuckers walk amongst us. How do these bastards find MY site interesting? If they are looking for that kind of trash- what would prmpt them to think, "Hmmmm... maybe I'll go read THAT." Ick.
Anyways- the search engine hits for this month...

**what stores sell freuds therapy eight ball **
Freud used a Magic 8-Ball for diagnosis? WTF?
**vogelweh whore house **
Hmmm... must be moving here soon, huh, pal? Don't think there is a whore house, but you can do what the other guiys do- go pick up the skanks in the local bars.
**military wife pap smear how often?**
I can't imagine why you think that military wives get more or less pussy check ups that other girls...
**water smells like corn **
Dude... write me to tell me where you live. I never want to go there.
**vista = the biggest pice o-shit ever**
Couldn't agree more, even if you can't use the spell check function.
**kidnapped tortured balls busted**
I thought I had a tough life. Seek Therapy.... From somewhere else.

And now we get on to the really sick fuckers that scare us all... because they could be your neighbor or co-worker... And their searches defy logic. These bastards should not HAVE computers.

**husbands boss cock**
Either you and your husband need couples counseling and therapy, or your old man works for a chicken farmer.
**she saw my camel toe when spanked**
Get some better fitting pants before engaging in S&M, or any ass beating activities.
**suck ass next erotic story**
I feel like this was prompted by an incomplete thought... and drugs. ALOT of drugs.
**job girls fuck by masters/owners**
What in the hell is a job girl? Regular SM&B not enough for you, dude? They DO have videos out there for pervs like you- but why did you come to MY site looking for them?
**spanked in my old school uniform by mom**
Hello, Jerry? Jerry Springer? Is that you?
**wife hates fistfuck**
I am gonna have to go with your wife on this one, guy, sorry. Seriously. Maybe if you let her ram a golf club or bowling pin up your ass, she'd be more receptive.
**how to get your wife to fuck another man**
Show her the shit you surf for on the internet... she'll divorce you and be off with another guy in NO time.

There are two I will be abstaining from posting as they are really disturbing- and I may contact my hosting company to see if the IPs should be turned in to law enforcement for investigation. Seriously. Really fucked up shit that I can not abide. In any case...

What is the most bazaar thing you have searched for on the net?