Not our idea of a fun night out

Frozen Tootsies may be one of the few bloggers who does not claim to give a fuck about the environment.  Well, except as it affects her own personal comfort. 

So it’s no surprise that Frozen Tootsies was not excited to receive an invitation to a special screening of this movie:

Once known as the “California Riviera,” the Salton Sea is now called one of America’s worst ecological disasters: a fetid, stagnant, salty lake, coughing up dead fish and birds by the thousands. Yet a few hardy eccentrics hang on to hope, including a roadside nudist waving at passing European tourists, a man building a religious mountain out of mud and paint, beer-loving Hungarian Revolutionary Hunky Daddy, and the real-estate “Ronald McDonald” known simply as The Landman. Through their perceptions and misperceptions, the strange history and unexpected beauty of the Salton Sea is revealed.

“Strange”?  You bet your fluffy little tail.  Frozen Tootsies does not plan to waste an evening looking for ”unexpected beauty” in a film about a place that sounds like a total hellhole.  The armpit of the world. 

Yecch.

World domination

Rats.  The cat’s out of the bag about the plan for squirrel world domination.  It’s here for just anybody to see. 

Huh.  Bigoted bastard.  Is there a government official to whom Frozen Tootsies may complain about this?

 

Doing our humble best to be adult here

Excellent decorating ideas

 Mist 1 has the right idea for her bedroom paint.  Solves the curtain problem too.

See?  Watching HGTV does too make you smart.

Hell at work

Frozen Tootsies has more experience working in offices than you might expect from a rabid squirrel ho.

In the course of this wasted life, FT has shared air space for eight hour shifts with some real head cases.  It was hard to stay cool about the antics of these bimbos, idiots, psychos, losers, and morons.  ‘Cos they were like, you know, in OUR space, OK?

Makin their nonstop stupid personal phone calls, gettin their ugly shorts in a knot over nuthin we could figure out, stealin our lunch from the fridge (oh YEAH baby you know it’s true), whinin all the time, showin up late because they have like children, leaving early because one or another of their spawn has to go to juvie court.  And BRINGING the kids to the OFFICE, for hours.

And how come they were ALWAYS the ones with car trouble all the time?  And money problems?  And ten to one were the ones who would come in – eventually – on a Monday all high and happy from buying a big new fuckin TV or boat or timeshare.  On credit of course. You know.   All that shit.

Well, one poor innocent co-worker has been blogging about such a co-worker from hell, at The Chronicles of Bleh.  Bless the blogger’s little heart and opposable thumbs. 

Read – and bookmark – that blog. 

Now.  Whatcha waitin’ for, a bus to come by?

Look, just go there now.  You want to be hunted down by a rabid squirrel ho?

Huh.  Didn’t think so.

Wednesday confessional

Frozen Tootsies can’t stand Jerry Lewis. Never could. Even as a kid. Never laughed at his frenetic performances, only cringed. Adore cable TV because it gives us something to watch instead of his Labor Day barf-a-thon.

Now he’s put his ugly foot in his fucktard mouth. Said a bad word on camera. Is in big trouble.

Sure, this shows how an unforgiving world can cast somebody into permanent disgrace over a single bad word instantly retracted. Which some say is a bad thing.

But this is Jerry Lewis. It’s a good thing in this case. He’s an annoying turd. Who shoulda retired long ago.

Still workin on NC-17

Mingle² – Brooklyn Singles

Monday confessional

Step in.  Close the door, dammit.  Now listen up ‘cos I’m only sayin it once here.  Settled in now?  OK here goes.

I like Animal Planet on cable.  But I couldn’t stand Steve Irwin The Crocodile Hunter.  Not for five minutes.  Not even with that cute butt in those Outback shortz.  Not even with the Ozzie accent. 

Too much testosterone, too few brains.

Like, OK, I’m all sorry the guy died.   But I assume they wrote on his headstone:  What the Fuck Was I Thinking?

Who dat is

 

Oh, screw WordPress. They must be having some problems. Maybe it’s just my karma katching up. Whatever. The “about” page link isn’t working. That’s the one that says “Who Dat” – if you are still hungover from Saturday night and those synapses are too soggy to snap.

Here’s what the page says, in case you can’t see it when you click:

Boilerplate that came with this page: “This is an example of a WordPress page, you could edit this to put information about yourself or your site so readers know where you are coming from.”

Oh really? How friendly. But not likely.

As if anybody reading this gives a flying goat’s fart where I’m coming from, or going to, or was last weekend.

UPDATE:  I deleted the whole “about” or “who dat” page.  It was just too damn much trouble.

Was that a high-heeled shoe on that foot in her mouth?

‘Cause I bet there were some bitchin’ hot high heels kickin’ on a certain female barrister’s rear.  HT to the Zipster for this one.  Can’t top her “jaw dropping duncery” title, either.

From England, a May 17 news story that left me speechless.  Me, speechless?  Yeah, it happens.  As follows:

A barrister provoked outrage yesterday by claiming that the victim of an alleged gang rape was so fat she would have been ‘glad of the attention’.

Sheilagh Davies, defending one of three boys accused of raping two girls, said the 16-year-old girl had ’slimmed down a lot’ since the alleged attack.

She told Inner London Crown Court: ‘She was 12st 6lb – not quite the swan she may turn into. She may well have been glad of the attention.

Also, thanks to the Zipster for the information that 12 stone, 6 pounds = 180 pounds.

This was said by a barrister, in the United Kingdom, in open court, in the 21st Century.  A woman barrister.   God.  

In case “porn star” is on your list of career options

Well, why not?  It pays better than teaching a bunch of rude ignorant drugged up kids in an average US public school. 

And if your physical attributes need a little improvement, you can get boob jobs, lipo, face restructuring, and this. 

Ain’t modern medicine wonderful?

So you want warm and fuzzy?

Steal a puppy.

Adopt a couple of kittens.

Quit shaving. Or waxing. Whatever.

And don’t be asking where you should quit shaving/waxing. That’s your business, hon. Not for discussion with strangers on the Internet.

Does your mother know you were asking that here?

Oh. She’s the one who posted those pictures of her favorite bikini wax?

Damn, hon.

Now I just don’t know what to say.