Whole Lotta Tard

Usually I'm pretty politically correct. On the other hand when I see someone or something (I'm looking at you, Snoopy) doing something stupid I say he's got a whole lotta tard in him. The other day I had some tard in me. I set my alarm for 9am. At least I thought I set it for 9. And no, I didn't set it for 9 pm. Turns out I set it for 8. I didn't notice what time it was, so when it was quarter to 9 I left for work. After all, I knew I was supposed to leave at quarter till. I saw the big hand on the nine and didn't pay any attention to the little hand. I was working for about 15 minutes when one of the manager types came over and told me to stop working. What a tard.

That's about as good as the other day when I stopped at a gas station on my way to work. They must have had a lot of drive-offs because all the pumps were pay in advance. So I went in, got a soda, paid for my gas, and walked out, congratulating myself on a job well done. I was about five or six blocks away when i realized I hadn't actually pumped the gas. I probably would never have realized what happened if I hadn't been running on fumes because what tipped me off was the fill engine light coming on. That's odd, I thought. I just filled up. Then the lightbulb went off.

That frazled me so much that when I got to work and noticed they were having a blood drive at work I decided to go ahead and run down and give blood on my break since it was just down the stairs from where I work. Turns out 'run down' and 'give blood' don't really fit in the same sentence. You have to read this little booklet, sign something saying you read the booklet, sit in a little room and click on a computer screen proving you read the little book, then answer questions from a nurse about the questions in the little book.

Everything was going fine up till that point. I could tell I was never going to make it in 15 minutes, but I decided I was already there, I would just keep going. Then the nurse lady said she had to stab my finger to test my blood to make sure I had enough iron or something. She stabbed me with the little poker, then squeezed my fingertip to make sure a nice big healthy drop came out. Blood shot out of my finger like a gyser. I swear, it shot a stream of blood three feet in the air. That lady was lucky she didn't get a face full of it. Now, I admit, it wasn't like I had been decapitated or anything, it was just this little stream, but it was a stream, not just a few drops hurtling through space.

The look on that nurse's face was priceless.

An Open Letter To Sarah Palin

Dear Sarah,

Please don't move to Missouri.

Thanks a bunch,

Ruth

I might have mentioned this once or twice, but just so you know, I don't like Sarah Palin. She just irritates the bejeezus out of me. So you might be surprised that I don't really give a shit about her being a big quitting baby. I don't care why she quit, what interests me is how she quit. If she was tired of the political games and wanted to leave the limelight that's fine with me, but that crazy rambling speech made her look like an even bigger idiot than I already thought she was. If she had any sense she would have, oh, maybe written a nice little speech, explaining in simple, straight language why she was quiting and what she planned on doing in the future. Not stand there and sound like a brain addled crack addict. She could have taken a stand and rallied the troops. Instead she left everybody wondering what the hell is wrong with her.