Fundie Fun & A Surprise From Wacko Jacko

A little fun for your Wednesday.....

This comic is so true - those who spout anti-gay rhetoric, while calling themselves "normal" (in comparison to the gay community), ALWAYS looks like this bible-thumping kooky bunch.

Sorry guys; believe it or not, I consider myself WAY more normal than some miserable homosex-obsessed inbred hillbilly lunatic, whose 2 favorite quotes are "God hates fags!", and "If you can't fuck yer sister, who CAN you fuck?".

















This picture always cracks me up - the look on the female fundie's face is just priceless:


















Lastly, how would you like to wake up one morning, with this in your MySpace inbox?

Mollie & Pennie: Saga Of The Dirty Rawhide Bone

Being a "pet person", I enjoy hilarious pet stories, and my neighbor friends sent me some new pictures of Mollie and Pennie's hilarious Pyrenees antics from last week. My neighbor followed them with a camera all morning (when they're most hyper and acting silly), as what she described was a "saga" going on the entire time. It's too cute, and I have to pass their story along..........

The day before, Mollie was given a rawhide bone, and Pennie snatched it from her, and buried it outside. Pennie later dug it up, and had it while she and Mollie were wrestling around the next morning (and yes, Jaws has already gotten ahold of the corner of the stairs, as you'll clearly notice):

























Both girls are locked onto the rawhide bone, but Pennie isn't about to give it up. She was chewing on it in front of Mollie, and basically saying "it's mine!", like a kid would do.






















As she was leaving for work, my neighbor called Mollie and Pennie into the bedroom. At some point, Mollie quietly leaves the room, goes into the hallway, and scoops up the bone at the top of the stairs, where Pennie left it.

Realizing what she had forgotten, Pennie gets this "oh shit!" look on her face, and dashes away to get it. She didn't find the bone, but instead Mollie in the closest bathroom, sitting facing the shower, wedged in between a hamper and the toilet, where Pennie couldn't get around her, or anywhere near the bone (note: I'm not going to show off a person's toilet to the world, and erased that out LOL!).

All Pennie could do, was sit behind Mollie and sulk. Obviously the smaller the rawhide bone got, the sadder Pennie got. Awwwww........

































Too cute! If you're not a "pet person", or "dog person", you wouldn't understand!

All Mollie and Pennie posts

Smalltown Church Stories I

(another one from the original blog, similar to the Pentecostal Zombies trilogy - I'll have to someday soon continue this "series"):

SMALLTOWN CHURCH STORIES 1

From birth to high school graduation, I attended a smalltown baptist church, in which a good majority of my family also were members. There's so many things to tell about that little holy house of hypocrisy - the backstabbing and talking about other members behind their backs, among other things.

One young member, Kristin, who was a year younger than myself, was her mother's church talent puppet. Every few weeks, Kristin was forced to bring up her boom box to the front podium, and share her "talent" with the congregation. This went on for as long as I known the girl to be a church member; over a decade. And what a torturous decade it was......

There was only one problem: Kristin couldn't sing, to save her life. I'm not poking fun or being unnecessarily mean - the girl sounded like a dying vulture. Not a single note was in tune, or as Simon Cowell would say, "it was all over the place". Even William Hung was more tolerable, and I'm being dead serious.

The best description of her "singing style" is it sounded like she was reading the lyrics aloud as the instrumental music played along, with a nervous, scratchy and unsure voice.

When our pastor would randomly surprise us with the news of a performance on a Sunday, it was like the entire congregation who heard Kristin sing before had to brace themselves. When the music started and Kristin began her hoarse speak-singing, everyone was either stiff as a board, were sliding down in the pews, were covering their faces to hide their expressions, or were totally jaw-on-floor with horrified looks on their faces.

Many church visitors who showed up for one of her many, many performances never came back - and I don't blame them.

One Sunday, Kristin (or should I say her zombie homely Crystal Gayle with no makeup mother) selected the tune "Silver And Gold" by Dolly Parton (not the song from the popular Rudolph movie). It's a performance even my brother remembers quite well and reminds me of from time to time, complete with an impersonation.

Her singing sounded like something had been shot, and was dying of agony.

I tried everything to get her ghastly wailing voice out of my head - from laying down in the pew and closing my eyes, to thinking of dead kittens and other horrible things, to keep from laughing.

With her grand finale of screeching "siiiiiiilveeeeeer aaaand goooooooolllld", I just totally lost it and burst out laughing. I was so embarrassed that I had to step outside and get some fresh air.

It's no surprise that Kristin packed her shit and fled from home the moment she was legally old enough to leave. I felt sorry for the girl, because she knew she couldn't sing, but was pretty much forced to perform anyway.

Had she lip-synced or something, it may have been a different story.

More smalltown church stories later..........

What Hell Is REALLY Like

(Here's an old favorite of mine from the original blog.....)

I think it's a good thing that people like Falwell, Chambers, Santorum, Harp, Wildmon, Bennett, Dobson, and these other wastes of flesh have hijacked and claimed Christianity for their own lunatic selves, with their own loony versions of Christianity; and they use it to chase people out of churches everywhere.

I hope this continues, because the loonier they get, the more people who will leave their nutty churches and seek alternate forms of religion and spirituality, or forget religion entirely. It's already happening, and Christianity will eventually become a minority - it's the reason why these nutballs are organizing more and getting louder and crazier (as if that's helping matters any).

These people go around screeching and telling 95% of the people they meet "YOU'RE GOING TO HELL!", cursing them with fire and brimstone, no drop of water to cool their tongue, and all this other fucked up shit that could only be made up on an acid trip - which is pretty much spot-on, since most of these guys are obviously on some serious meds.

If you want to get people scared of going to hell (which doesn't exist, by the way), you need to REALLY scare them.

I personally don't believe in hell, but if I did, it would have nothing to do with fire, lava, screaming demons, Satan, and all these other doped-up crock of shit scare tactics.

To me, hell would be like.....

The only music available is country. And not just ANY country music - I'm talking about cousin-fucking redneck anthems like "Chatahoochee", "Watermelon Crawl", "Boot Scootin Boogie", "Achy Breaky Heart", "Strawberry Wine" and the complete Randy Travis catalog.

The only food is brussels sprouts.

The only alcohol is that cheap $6 Puerto Rican rum that'll give you a major fucking hangover the next day.

The only weed is shitty 5 year old stale shake, that won't even give you a buzz!

The only shows on TV are Friends, Wonder Years, Full House, and America's Funniest People (when Dave Coulier was the co-host).

The only movie playing is Brokeback Mountain.

All of the men are caucasian.

Now THAT'S scary!!!!!

The list goes on. I would much rather die and be bug food (the reality of death, and all that happens to you AFTER death) than have to put up with THAT bullshit!

Fuck that! And fuck hell!

How To Deal With Men Part III

This is too fun - on with the third volume......

HOW TO DEAL WITH MEN, PART III

* THE TALL-TALE QUEEN *

Thank God for internet in this day and age; one of the safest ways to get to know men before you decide whether or not you actually want to go through meeting them in person.

But some of them are just too ridiculous not to turn down. You know, when they're so full of shit, you just have to meet them in person to see what they're really all about. I can't help myself!

One case in particular was this guy in his early 20's, who first claimed he owned a hotel chain. Unless his last name was "Hilton", I had my doubts. And then he owned a horse farm. And then he owned some then-current fancy new car. And then he owned a bakery, and he was the head chef. With each conversation, the guy piled on his "have's" just like Sally Struthers piles her plate at Thanksgiving.

Finally we met one weekend day, and I was proven right when he pulled up in some boat, some 1970's luxury car - probably older than me! He then tried to explain the car belonged to "one of his cooks". Yeah.

The obvious look of shock and disbelief on my face cut our conversation short, and I never heard from him again - until a year or so later, when some friends and I ran into him at a club. Of course he continued to pile on whatever new things he owned, and I had to leave.

Now don't get me wrong - I'm no materialistic person. He could have pulled up in some battered pickup truck in the first place, and I would have had no problems with it. As long as he didn't make up some tall-tale that he was going to be pulling up in a Porsche! If he's going to lie about the obvious things that I'm eventually going to find out, why should I believe anything from him that concerns a relationship?

Guys, come on. Unless you're trying to get your hands on some trifeling gold digger, why make up a bunch of bullshit to impress somebody?

* THE PSYCHO *

Out of all my dating experiences, this one probably takes the kooky cake.

I was asked out by this guy in his mid 30's, and we agreed to meet at a bar for karaoke night. I'm not a fan of karaoke in the first place, nor am I a fan of going to bars, period. We went, we had a fun time, and we sobered up at the local Denny's - the after-hours gay club hangout everywhere in the USA. After that, a hug in the parking lot, and we went our separate ways.

He called the next night, and asked if I wanted to go out again. Although I didn't want to, I did anyway. Same routine as the first night.

The third night, yet another call from him. He wanted me to meet him at the same place again, and I frankly told him I didn't feel like driving 30-45 minutes to get sloshed and listen to horrible singers for a third night in a row. He seemed disappointed, but accepted my decision.

Less than an hour later, he called again, and once again asked me to come out to see him at the bar. I told him "no". He continued to bug me, and I told him "no" every time.

Not long after that, another call. This time he was completely hostile, and fucking DEMANDED that I get in my truck, and be there by a certain time, giving me about 15 minutes to arrive; nowhere near the normal driving time to get to this place.

OK, VERRRRY important rule - I take requests, but NEVER command me to do something, like I'm your little kid. That doesn't go over too well with me.

Again, I told him "no".

He called back again, yelling into the phone. I hanged up.

He called again, to apologize. I told him I still wasn't going to the bar.

He called several more times over the next few minutes (none of which I answered), to the point that I had to pull the phone cord out of the wall. There's no telling how many messages he left in those few minutes; I didn't bother listening to them. Just "delete", "delete", "delete", "delete", "delete".

Surprisingly, that was the last I heard from him.

As much ranting as I'm doing, I'm sure several people who will read this can relate to these situations. Dating is one of the bumpiest roads in life, but it's fun, and can be fucking hilarious. Does it scare me off? Hell no! I love men too much to give up! It's just much better when you finally meet the rare guy who's laid-back and less, how do you say, FUCKED?!?!?!?

How To Deal With Men Part I

How To Deal With Men, Continued

How To Deal With Men, continued

Actually I had written a "Part II" on the old blog, on abusive boyfriends/husbands, but I've seemed to have lost it. Oh well - I'll repost if I ever run across it.

HOW TO DEAL WITH MEN, CONTINUED.....

After writing about my little experience from this past week, it got me thinking of all the other retards I've dealt with in my 10 years of dating and getting to know men. Unfortunately, many are best avoided (if like myself, you prefer drama-free relationships). What "OTHER" types of men are out there which I can discuss today.....

* "THE EX-OBSESSED GUY" *

When getting to know a guy, it's always good to hear about his previous relationships, and get to know what he's about, and where he's been.

One of the most frequent issues with men is they seem to be obsessed over an "ex", usually his last relationship. If the guy was burned, it's perfectly fine for him to get it off his chest and discuss it.

The problem begins when he seems to be more interested in his "ex" than he's interested in you. I've been on at least one date where all he talked about was his "ex". He loves the "ex", he hates the "ex". Oh, we can't go to this place, because it reminds him of his "ex". Oh, we can't listen to that song, because it reminds him of his "ex". Don't do this, don't do that, because it reminds him of his "ex". It can sometimes seem like his "ex" is on every corner - in the real world AND in his mind. In most cases, you'll frequently be compared to his "ex", to your face.

Just.....NO!!!!! Until this dumbass can get over his "ex", he has no business going out with you, or anyone else. Nothing is more inconsiderate than some guy casting you into his "ex's" shadow, of which there's really no competition. In 99 out of 100 cases, you'll lose. If the guy is actively pursuing the "ex" while dating you, it's time to send the guy home for good. Please don't waste your time!

* "THE BITCHY FRIEND" *

When you're dating a guy, at some point, you're going to meet his friends. And that's a good thing, because if you're planning on being around this guy often, you're going to have to deal with these guys too.

I had already been dating this police officer who recently got out of an abusive relationship (and the hilarious thing was HE was the abused!) for a couple months already, when he introduced me to his friends; and we all went out to dinner and an amusement park that night.

As much as I tried to have a good time with everyone, there was one little problem that kept nagging at me the whole time - a friend of his, who looked like that nelly queen from Queer As Folk (Emmett?). That skinny little bitch was staring daggers at me from the moment we met, until the end of the night. Everyone else seemed to like me though - it was just this one queen who had issues, and quite frankly, seemed hellbent on ruining everyone's fun time.

Surprisingly, I have good manners and I'm well behaved in person, at least around people I DON'T know (different story when we become close friends LOL). I didn't give this queen one reason to dislike me, but for some reason, it was obvious he didn't like me. I thought he had a wicked sense of humor, and of course I immediately liked HIM! I assumed it had something to do with him keeping an eye out for his formerly-abused friend - which shouldn't be a problem, because I'd never raise my fist or voice to anyone who doesn't do it to me first!

Our last stop of the night was this queen's house, and I had it all figured out by then: he was a bitchy, single, unhappy, prissy queen who isn't happy unless he's controlling his friends relationships, to his own liking. If the bitch has his mind set that he doesn't like you, then he's never going to like you. You can do backflips, or whatever for him, and still it's not good enough to win brownie points with this queen.

You'll be spending your time trying to please THIS bitch, when you should be spending your time on the guy you're dating. With some of these lonely queens, it's almost like you're dating them, and not the guy who you're supposed to be with.

For me, that's reason enough to kick the guy to the curb. But then again, I try to live life as drama-free as possible; and if your potential man has a good friend who will never accept you for whatever lame reason, then you need to send the guy back to his mom, I mean, his bitchy friend. If the guy won't step in, and tell his friend to back off, consider him a big-time loser who's not worth the effort. Why waste your time on THAT shit?

The funny thing is several years ago, I had a "bitchy friend" too. The bitter single queen was always on a mission to prove my then-boyfriend was cheating; even going as far as trying to seduce him, to prove he was a cheater! He succeeded in ruining that relationship, which he took great pleasure in. After that, I no longer told him the name, or gave him any info on any guy I was talking to. Of course this made him furious.

And guess what happened to him? Curb.

I'm just getting started.....stay tuned for "Volume 3"

More: "How To Deal With Men (Part I)"

How To Deal With Men, Part I

As some of my GLB readers may notice, this is another favorite from the old blog. I've been cleaning out some of my old Word documents, and have been running across these old posts, and wanted to re-print a couple. And the following project was one I liked enough, that I'll likely continue the "series" in the future:

I'm going to have some fun today, since I don't talk enough about one thing I (and surely many of my readers) love - MEN!

There's all types of men out there, but which one is right for you? Which types should you avoid, and which types should you stick with? A comical look at a few of them, based on personal experience and stories from friends and their experiences.....

HOW TO DEAL WITH MEN PART 1: "THE GIFT SHOWERER"

There's nothing wrong with doing the old-fashioned thing and showing up on a first date with a single rose or something cutesy like that. I personally think it makes a good first impression, and depending on the guy, could even score points with me!

But the problem starts when EVERY time you see the guy, several days in a week, he has something for you. A stuffed animal one day, a bouquet of balloons the next, and so on. The recipient of all this so-called "love" may possibly start to feel cornered, trapped, and absolutely drowning in love, hearts and gifts. And then they flee.

I'm saying this from experience, on both ends.

When I was first coming out at the age of 20, and being all idealistic about relationships with the first couple of boyfriends, I had done pretty much the exact same thing. Possibly one too many Hallmark cards and other surprise gifts were to blame for them getting overwhelmed and less interested in me. Oh well, live and learn. They were horrible in bed anyway, so no big loss!

A few years later, my past actions came back to haunt me, fucking tenfold! A blind date with a guy a few years older than myself turned into a situation similar to the song "Spiderwebs" by No Doubt.

The first date, got flowers - cute.

The second date, stuffed animal - ok.

Each additional date, something different. Stuff I didn't need, want, or could use (I later ended up donating most of the items, many still new and unopened). Even on that Christmas, I told him not to bring me any gifts, as I told my friends not to bring anything but themselves. And what did he do? He brought 5 gifts!

It was an overwhelming experience, and I had to break it off before it got any crazier. No matter how much I told him to stop bringing little gifts, he would continue anyway.

As if I didn't see it coming, the breakup was followed with him casting guilt at me, and whining "now I'm going to grow old, decrepit and single" (until, of course, somebody else after me comes along). The guy was only in his early 30's, get a fucking grip!

And the funny thing is we were only just casually dating, and nothing more. Nothing romantic, no sex, nothing that would make us seem like a couple. You would think a man would stop giving you things if he wasn't getting any in the bedroom! Not this guy.

The gift showerer types generally means well, but in many cases, their nonstop giving can be a sign of infatuation (especially if the guy is young, or newly "out", no matter his age). If you enjoy nonstop adoration and appreciation, more power to you. It could possibly be a good match in the longrun, once he gets past that nonstop gift-giving bullshit.

Some aren't as nice, thinking everything they give totals up and obligates you to them exclusively, and the two of you are going to be together forever. The sooner you can detect this type of guy, and get him out of your hair, the better. Because the longer it goes on, the more hellacious the breakup will be later on.

So for those of you out there dating and getting to know the mens, beware the gift showerer. Don't confuse this with the guy who surprises you once in a while with something. That's not the problem. The problem is when you receive enough stuff in a week to open a little store.

For those of you prone to being a gift showerer - STOP IT!!!!! If you want to make a good first impression, go for it. But just once! If things are going well after a few weeks, feel free to repeat. But don't you dare bring anything on the 2nd date! Unless it's a bottle of wine for the two of you to share, leave it on the shelf. Sometimes less is more; and the more you give, the quicker you may possibly scare off the object of your affection.

Pentecostal Zombies Trilogy

A favorite of mine that I wanted to reprint is the "Pentecostal Zombies" trilogy; three short true stories of my dealing with pentecostal folks over the years:

PART I: "Pentecostal Zombies"

We all make mistakes, and one of mine was attending a private "christian/southern baptist" affiliated college upon high school graduation. It wasn't all bad, but the loons I encountered there will provide some nice story material in the future.

Although the school was supposed to be "baptist", the biggest religious influence in town (I later found out AFTER becoming a student) was "pentecostal". And with a fair percent of students being local commuters and pentecostal, you were sure to see lots of new students being sucked into that hogwash.

Even the manager/franchise owner at the part-time job I got in town was a pentecostal - and she was converting employees, one person at a time. One week, an assistant manager was a pretty cool person and had somewhat of a filthy mouth. The next week, she was speaking in tongues and loosely quoting the bible. Another assistant manager got transformed as well. The crazy bitch couldn't sink her talons into me, therefore, I was the spawn of Satan. Hiss!

Towards the later part of my second year at the school, I "came out"; first, to my best female friend/first friend I made before we became students (at a high school statewide event), Tanya. Of course she was accepting and nothing changed about our friendship.....

until one night when she returned to campus with Sara, another female friend of ours. They had been on a church visit - with "one of them".

The next day, both girls had dramatically changed everything about themselves. They stopped smoking cold turkey, and drinking, because it "destroyed your temple" they said. They no longer dressed casual - both would be wearing long dresses, and their hair was put up in a "bun" - which by the way, looks ridiculous on any woman. Although they were never particularly hateful towards me personally, they did ramble on with the tired "hate the sin, love the sinner" thing. It was a weird sight for the rest of our group of friends, as if Tanya and Sara had been bitten by a pentecostal zombie or something.

This went on for at least a week or so. "Love the sinner, hate the sin", "sha-la-ba-za-ca-la-ba" and all that other stupid speaking in tongues bullshit.

At one point, I thought the girls were playing a prank or something. It was just too ridiculous to be true.

Then magically, as if some secular fairy flown through the window and sprinkled "get some fucking sense" dust on them overnight, they were back to their old selves again. I welcomed my fag hag back with a cigarette, and we partied all night long.

The end.

PART II: "Pentecostal Zombies Part II"

Almost a year after that fiasco with my friends and their "pentecostal" phase, I had visited my former college town to visit Tanya, who decided to continue at this school.

Once again, she had been bitten by the pentecostal zombies, and this time, it was good old-fashioned congregation acting that reeled her in. She told me an older lady at the pentecostal church she was brought to had approached her and made some psychic prediction that Tanya seemed "lost", and needed to make friends with (their twisted version of) JC.

Tanya invited me to her new church that evening, and since we had got ahold of some pretty good weed, I thought I could use the entertainment. The church was a nice little drive from the main part of the college town, and was located by itself along the highway.

And side note: this time around, my friend remained secular, still partied and everything, although she attended this pentecostal church. Maybe the reasons she enjoyed going was because of what I was about to see with my very own eyes.

As everyone was socializing before service began, I noticed a couple familiar faces - my former manager, and one of the zombified converted assistant managers. A handful of college students and other people I recognized were there as well.

Unlike any church I had ever been to, this place had a rock band up front, complete with drums, bass and guitar, piano, and the whole shabang. In addition to standard hymns, several of the songs were up-tempo rock ditties.

If the music wasn't entertaining enough, the 1-armed preacher bumbled around to the music onstage. Two preteen girls in front of Tanya, her room-mate and I were doing the "butterfly", which was a popular urban dance at the time. So we didn't look conspicuous, our little trio joined in and bounced along with the congregation - like I was going to take a chance on being addressed or called out by that insane loud-ass preacher! It was bad enough we were in the back row, with me certainly looking suspicious and "new".

At some points, it got too weird for me. Some people were crawling up to the front stage and freaking out, some were shouting and shrieking, and a few were making weird retarded movements while they were walk-running through the aisles between pews, and talking jibberish.

After three'ish hours of this, we hads to go. They were still going apeshit to their music as we quickly slinked out the door.

Never.Again.

PART III: "Right Nextdoor To Hell"

I was exposed to pentecostal zombies from day 1, as my original childhood/teen years neighbor in my longtime neighborhood was a kooky pentecostal lady named Marcy. She was always acting like she was medicated, and it wouldn't surprise me if she was. The rest of the family were pretty decent folks, and the son and daughter socialized with the rest of the neighborhood kids.

As I said in the last post, women can be gossipy bitches too, and my own mom got busted for running that gator of hers, when she noticed Marcy's huge weird blue and white "Miracle Whip" brand logo umbrella she was using for sunbathing (her husband was a grocery manager in town, so I assume that's where she got it; free tacky perk, or something like that). Mom poked fun at the umbrella to our neighbor on the other side of Marcy, and of course that no-BS woman repeated to Marcy what she said. Needless to say, she wasn't amused, but I thought it was fucking hilarious.

When I was a teenager, Marcy became creepier with age, and because I was the typical 90's teen into rock music and wearing t-shirts of my favorite groups, the nutty lady branded me a "Satan worshiper", and "a Satanist". She also based this on the fact I had slightly long hair at the time - so I wonder if that makes JC himself a "Satanist" too, because he looked like some long-haired hippie to me!

While my parents were away one weekend night, my younger kid brother and I noticed Marcy outdoors in her above-ground pool, and decided to play a little prank on her, and fuck with her mind. If she thinks I'm a "Satanist", dammit, I'm gonna give her "Satanist".

We opened the windows on that side of the house, played the KISS Destroyer album with the volume turned up real loud, and began flipping the lights on-and-off repeatedly in those rooms while screaming like banshees and ghosts. I can imagine Marcy's eyes probably fell out of their sockets, because she quickly jumped out of the pool, wrapped up in a towel, grabbed her shit, and took off like a thief in the night towards the back door, and slammed it shut.

We had some good times returning the harassing Marcy always gave us as kids. If you deal with fundies bugging you, try it sometime - it's fun!