Since When Is Homocide NOT Funny?

Tell me what you think. 

I was helping my sister and brother in law move into their new home this weekend.  The bro-in-law, Ray Ray, and myself, take a trek to the local, large hardware mega store in the hopes of acquiring the necessary supplies for a massive clean up. 

For the record, don’t move into a freshly built home if the owner decided to cut costs by not pouring concrete walkways or a driveway, especially in the rain.  (Mud EVERYWHERE!)

So, we are in the checkout line with a cart filled to capacity with brooms, mops, garbage cans, bags, plastic wrapping, various cleaning liquids, rubber tubing, and a super charged vacuum cleaner, and Ray Ray, being a homophobe, is concerned this makes us look gay.  (Apparently straight men live in their own filth).  While he is paying for the haul, undoubtedly fighting the cleaning-supply-induced doubts of his sexuality, when the prim and proper middle aged woman behind us, admiring our supplies, says, “My Goodness!  It looks like you fellas are in for a bit of cleaning.”

I am going to jump ahead for a moment to tell you there was a debate on the appropriate reply to this comment.  Ray Ray, with his usual manly bravado weakened by the gateway to illicit man-on-man sex that buying cleaning supplies leads to, wanted to comment on her lovely dress, but fought this back and said nothing.  (claiming to not have heard her speak)
My decision for comment, although less orthodox, was “Yeah, who would have guessed an ex-wife would bleed so much.”

Looks of consternation.  Lack of appreciation.  These are the reasons I don’t shop at the large hardware mega stores.

News From Hickville

I’m almost scared to write this. I’m scared she’ll read it and she’ll know. I’m afraid I will appear snobbish and mean. I’m frightened that she’ll bite me and leave her tooth mark on my arm.

As foreshadowed, you know I recently spent 5 days with an honest to God Hillbilly. She has a disguise- it’s called a Master’s Degree- but her etiquette is straight from the hills. I would bet my entire savings account that she’s eaten both possum and coon. Fried.

We took the wrong entrance into the Sears tower. The Yankee politely told us to go back to the street and take the next entrance into the building. Instead of complying, she shrieked, “But I’m RELATED to the Sears! Can’t you let us go in this a way?” “No. I cannot.” “But the Sears are from my granddaddy’s side of the tree!” “I’m sorry, mam.” “Well, I’ll be....”

You’ll be what? Startin’ a fued any minute now? Wrasslin’ this young feller to the ground? Hog tying him?

I have a real distaste for the Scarlett O’Haras of this world. Being southern is many things, and being overly proud of being southern is a mental illness. Yes, we do have these outstanding accents that are easy to identify. We roll our words and slowly lull out syllables. That does not mean we’re to be adored by all. This is something the Scarlett O’Haras do not understand; it conflicts with their core belief: To hear us speak is to be mesmerised by our charms.

Bullshit.

If I heard her say it once, I heard her say it in my nightmares, “I know how ya’ll just love listenin’ to us tawlk!” And people would agree, smiling broadly and looking for the nearest exit.

Did I mention that she unbuttoned her pants at EVERY restaurant we went to? And that she made me go doll shopping with her? They were collectible dolls- Santas with fairy wings and skinny limbs.

It was foul.

Now, all of that being said, I had a great time with her and I’m sure that her blog, with calico backgrounds and Achy Breaky Heart’ loaded to play when you visit, speaks of her trip to Chicago with a stuck-up bitch who wasted her time in the high-end gourmet food shop when there was a T J Maxx right around the corner. 

It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

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I am pleased to announce my return home from business in Chicago- where I was stranded on the side of the road while our cab was burning, where I was almost left in Cicero- which is the south side of Chicago where bad, bad Leroy Brown is from, and where I had a 70 year old German lesbian hit on me in the Art Institute.

Ah- life in the city. Nothing beats it.

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I did have a good trip, aside from the fact that my lovely travel companion unbuttoned her pants at every restaurant we went to. She also relied heavily on her southern charms to get things she wanted- and I always find that offensive. I took great care to make sure I used proper grammar at all times and that I didn’t gawk at the homeless or ask loud questions in the museum. Questions like, “Is that the REAL painting? I mean the for real one?” She was fun to travel with, but in some ways it reminded me a lot of chaperoning.

It’s the holiday season, so there were plenty of cool displays to see.

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And I had a chance to do a lot while there; including going to a hockey game, which was made extra fun because of the wiener races.

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Those are real wieners out there! I mean look at them. REALLY LOOK. I also got to see a fight, which got so violent that it made me slightly uncomfortable. But it was still cool and I would have been disappointed had I not seen some blood while at the game.

We made it to the top of the Sears Tower- which is a waste of $13, but does offer a cool view.image

And I was able to get some REAL Chicago Pizza and my life is better for it. 4 inches of crust- it’s like I bathed in crispy bread! Why do I think a ‘yeast infection joke’ would work well here? Actually, almost everything I ate was really good. I was disappointed by a place called The Chop House. They boasted that they were rated the number 1 steak house in the country a few years ago. So we went and I blew the expense account to get a fillet. It was not as good as steaks I’ve cooked my self- which always pisses me off. If you can’t cook better than me, then you don’t need to claim to be a restaurant and you certainly don’t deserve to be rated anything extraordinary. They did redeem themselves by serving up a wicked Bloody Mary. I didn’t check the bill, but I’ll bet I paid $13 for that too.

Speaking of Wicked, I saw it. It’s a good theater production with great actresses and cool sets.

I did a little shopping, a little drinking, and a little work. It’s the best week at work I’ve had in a long time! I’m always up for returning to Chicago, but next time, I’d like to go in the Spring.

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Half Ass Friday

I’ve decided to start a new series.  It doesn’t always have to take place on a Friday, but I think I will always call it Half Ass Friday, because that just seems more half-assed.

I was checking the “odd news”, because it is less depressing than the regular news.  In it they have a article about this years winners for the “wacky warning label” contest.  Held by MLAW. 

I loved this years first place winner

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I agree with it 100%.  They shouldn’t call it a warning, but a strongly worded recommendation.  I think I will print this up and give it to all the patients who come into the hospital. 

They mentioned a previous winner (bud don’t include a picture), “Do not use the Silence Feature in emergency situations. It will not extinguish a fire.” I’d hate to meet the person who caused this warning to be needed.  I can just picture someone standing in a burning house, on a chair, pushing the silence button on their smoke detector frantically while screaming, “WORK DAMN IT!  WHY DON"T IT WORK?!?”

Finally, I noticed this warning label

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It says to not put persons inside the washer.  I would find this more strange, but in high school we used to go to laundry mats and go “dryer riding”; take turns getting inside dryer and letting it spin.  I think people have actually died doing this.  So this label seems more necessary, but if you were going to do this, the label probably won’t stop the insanity. 

Update From Liz

As everyone who is cool knows, Liz is in Chicago all week.  She invited me to house sit, but I declined.  It was only an attempt to have someone feed her 53 cats for free, but I was not falling for that.  The last time I spent the night there I was attacked by pussy, and not in the good way.

Liz sent me an email from the road.  She likes to keep me informed of what she is doing.  I did not want to give her the week off from here at Killer Rants, but she is Union, so I pretty much had no choice, however I did demand frequent updates. 

Here is the latest.  She probably doesn’t want you guys to read it, but I feel anything emailed is fair game.  (while retyping it, I might have taken some artistic license)

Hey Killer,
I hope you are doing great.  I really miss your sweet smelling flatulence.  I hope you take the time to go to my empty house and fart on my pillows. 
Chicago is incredible.  There is this beautiful white stuff all over the ground. I believe they call it ‘snow’. It’s hard on top, but very soft once you break the crust. Kind of like a creme brulee.
I am supposed to be working, but I am goofing off and visiting all the local bars and strip clubs.  You know how much I love strip clubs.  I really enjoy when I another woman rubs her fake boobs all over my face.  I might be a lesbian, or at least bi.  Don’t tell anyone about that.
I have been shopping a LOT and my suitcase is already too full.  The sex stores here are chock full of stuff I have never even heard of.  Edible panties, french ticklers, enormous black dildos, I might have to buy a new suitcase to get it all back.  I just wish I could stuff the great guy I met at this one bar into my suitcase.  He has a unibrow, but only one eye, so I think it kind of evens out.
Well, I have to go.  They are doing body shots down in the Super 8 lobby bar.  I don’t want anyone licking the booze off of my new man, Winky.
Hugs and Kisses
Liz
PS. You are the best blogger on the interweb.  I want to be just like you when I grow up.

To be honest only one statement in there which came from Liz’s email.  I just felt it needed some spicing up.  She should start having Jester turn our blog off when she is out of town.

If you don’t hear from me after this weekend, Liz probably got home and beat me up.

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