Do you last.fm? CajunVegan is there every once in a while.

(Title must be sung to the Warrant classic.)

Not quite says Independence like Boog getting his bitch ass in the kitchen cooking me some cherry pie.  Happy Fourth of July!

Flash forward to one year from now … maybe Sarah Palin should not quit her day job.

If you were not here for Get Your Freak on Friday, this is now a regular I Read Banned Books series.

I have a low tolerance for the dumbass; however, oblivion is where it’s at for this week’s Thursday 13.  I know that my tag line states please do not hate me for my superior intellect and sarcastic attitude.  Lately, I have wondered what it would be like to be totally oblivious to the world around me like these dumbasses.

1. People who bring their small children to movie theaters.
2. People who block aisles with shopping carts and fail to heed the repeated “excuses me’s” until I jam them with my own shopping cart.
3. People who talk loudly on their cell phones in restaurants.
4. People who “reply to all” in emails.
5. People who have poor personal hygiene.
6. People who snort every time they laugh.
7. People who leave their turn signals on … for miles and miles without ever making a turn.
8. People who knock on my closed office door and ask “Are you busy?” or “Do you have a minute?” when I am obviously working (or taking a nap Costanza style under my desk).
9. People who want to “ax me a question.”
10. People who say “liberry.”
11. People who are perky first thing in the morning.
12. People who know it all but cannot do it all.
13. People who have the fucking nerve to call me a dumbass.

If you have followed this blog for any length of time, you know about Monkey Boy.  He is my stinky but lovable stepson.  He lives with Boog’s practice wife, Shoeless Sue, in Colorado.  He is hopelessly devoted to his mother and his younger brother from another father.  He is usually with us by now for the summer, yet he has yet to arrive.   I know you anxiously await my Monkey Boy tales.  This may be the only one you get this summer, for he has earned my disdain.

In brief (because I could definitely be verbose with this post), he failed Algebra II this school year and is in summer school to retrieve the missed credits.   His mother told us.  She claims that she did not know he was failing.  (Insert my rolling eyes and cough BULLSHIT cough.)  She told Boog via phone at the end of May because she knew we would be purchasing his ticket soon.  She stated that she asked Monkey Boy to call Boog himself and tell him.  Well, guess what?  Today is June 30th, and Monkey Boy has not manned up yet.  Oh, but wait, there’s more …

Boog has talked to him a few times since via phone; Monkey Boy did not grow any balls.  Boog assumed Monkey Boy would call him on Father’s Day and would be forced to tell him.  No Nuts called the house while we were out and left a fucking Happy Father’s Day message on the home phone.  (At least, it was not a text message the day after like I got for Mother’s Day, but that is a whole other post that I am not getting into today.) For what it is worth, Monkey Boy has both of our cell numbers and has no problem calling or texting us when he needs or wants something.  Boog did not return the phone call and has not talked to him since.  He is hurt.  When he is down, I am down.  When I suggested to Boog that he should call Monkey Boy on his cowardice and failure to properly wish him a Happy Father’s Day,  Boog stated he was not going to talk to Monkey Boy about it lay guilt trips on him like Shoeless Sue does.  However, he did not tell me to stay out of it, so I took matters into my own hands.

Last night I texted Monkey Boy under the pretense that I had lost his email address (which I did not).  Of course, he did not respond until today as follows:

MB: It’s still istankandspankmymonkey@gmail.com.  Did u guys get the message I left on Father’s Day?

CV:  It was not appropriate for you to leave your dad a MSG for Father’s Day. You have both of our cell #s.  He was hurt, and I am disappointed.

He has yet to reply.  I think I am going to let his little brain marinate for a day or two and then I am going wicked stepmonster on his ass.

What’s a NYC virgin to do? How should I pop my NYC cherry?

July 19, 2009 will be here before I know it.

Start spreading the news … the Psycho Hose Beast is on her way.