Archive for the Diva’s little public service notices Category

Slutty, Skanky & Into S & M

Posted in Barbie is a slut, Diva's little public service notices, karaoke on November 22, 2008 by catscratch

Does anybody else think Barbie has turned into a slut in her middle age?

I mean, she’s always had awesome boobs that are obviously implants because, let’s face it, no chick has real boobs that big and perky after the age of 35 without a little help.

As a dreamin type kid, I had a shitpot of Barbie Dolls in my toybox, closet, floor, under the bed…

And more Barbie clothes than 10283764 Barbie’s could every be dressed up in for fashion show.

But back in the day all of the clothes that old-skool Barbie had was fairly tasteful and Barbie was appropriately covered.   No leg.  No ass.  No boobs…

Back in the day, Barbie was all moral and stuff.  Holding hands with Ken…  Cruisin her Barbie Mobile…

Nowdays, Barbie has turned into a total skank.


No wonder all these little girls out there are all about looking 25 when they are only 11.

Trust me, I have experience here.

My kids never did dig the Barbie dolls, but I have a niece that does.

And the girl dresses just like her Barbie.

All I can say about that is this…

The day I see the child dressed like this…

I’m gonna slap her mother right upside the head.

Is it just me, or has Barbie turned into total skank?

On the bright side….  Loookie!!!

I found me a Catscratch Karaoke Barbie….

Ain’t she cool?

 

You kids have a great weekend now, ya hear?

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Hershey’s Syrup, Pumpkin Paper & Smoochie Tatas

Posted in Boobies, Breast Cancer Awareness, Diva's little public service notices, Gettin Nekkid Where Ever I See Fit, Racks, Tatas on October 30, 2008 by catscratch

In honor of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month…

And because I can’t not do the IN thing….

I give you my smooochie boobie art….

Painted with Hershey’s Syrup on Pumpkin paper….

Cuz it’s Halloweeenie time Baby!!

This post was inspired by Olga the Travelling Bra and her Tata bearing bandits!

Special thanks to Big T for painting the girls with chocolate.

Growing Up, My Penis Vase & Saving the Ta-Tas

Posted in Boobies, Diva's little public service notices, Penis & the male anatomy, Racks, Tatas, Why I Love My Job on October 24, 2008 by catscratch

Ech.  The time has come for me and OG’s tranquil, quiet, happy, little office to start to close it’s doors.

We’ve had 8 years of solitude and nobody bugging us… 

Well except for our hottie UPS guy popping in once a day.

What’s next?  Well, I’m packing. 

And just like people home’s collect years of worthless and dust collecting shit… so did this office.

What is breaking my heart isn’t necessarily the move and it’s not the fact that we are moving into a bigger office with 20 some-odd other people.

Well, yes, that is kind of it.

Why?  Am I anti-social?

No.  I’m not.  But, moving into a bigger and better position means I can’t litter my walls like a dirty old-man’s garage anymore.  

The new place has men in it.  Men who may not look at me as a professional type peanut counter if when they walk by they see penis flower vases and skantily clad men hanging on the wall.

So long to the days of gazing happily into the eyes of the Chippendales who hang on the inside of my office door. 

So long to the clapping monkey and pirates who hang on my wall.

Yah.  We’ll see how long I last before the penis vase gets put out in plain sight.

 

 

Ok LADIES!!!!  LISTEN UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you don’t do it regularly, take a minute and do it today!

Self breast exams, regular doctor visits, mammograms….

Not fun to think about…. BUT

It might save your life!

Click the logo to learn more about National Breast Cancer Awareness Month!

Just do it!

Gentleman Jack, Santana and Tinkle Pants

Posted in Diva's little public service notices, Hangover City, Lame and stupid crap, music, Obscene Drinkin on September 24, 2008 by catscratch

This was just leaked and I may have my knees broken for spreading it:

” ACCORDING TO REPORTS, PHIL FULMER TO RESIGN TOMORROW MORNING.
HE WILL BE TAKING A JOB WITH FEMA, BECAUSE HE CAN EVACUATE 100,000 PEOPLE QUICKER THAN ANYBODY!! “

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I find it odd that I can be on my rounds to the regular blogs I stalk and one of them will send me into Flashback City, thinking about something I had either purposely blocked out or had honestly forgotten about.

Well, today was one of those days.  I was hanging out over at Moooog’s pad, Mental Poo.

My flashback doesn’t exactly mirror his, but his key word of Pee-Pee-Pants, send my mind a-reelin back to the past.

It was nine years ago this week that I got a call from a friend of mine in Santa Barbara.  Let’s call him SBsnoopy.  So, SBs goes on to tell me that Santana is playing October 1st, my birthingday, at the SB Bowl.  

He goes on to tell me that he has tickets to the show and that I should bring my butt to the Nashville Airport on September 30th to catch a flight to LA so that I might join them at the concert the next day.

So, I took the kids to their Dad, went to the airport and got on the plane.  I got to LAX that evening, and there he was standing outside the gate with a bunch of wild flowers and a baggie full of sand.  Awesome!

We gathered my bag and took off from the Airport toward his place in SB.  When we got there, I pulled out 2 bottles of Green Label Jack.  He has always been a lover of Jack and Green Label is only sold in TN, so I bringed him a present.  Not that it’s better than regular Jack.  It’s not.  It’s way harsh, but it was something he could add to his collection.

So, we had a birthday toast Green Label jack with its cherry freshly popped.  Then we had another one. And another one.  We sat out in the garden talking and drinkin until it was time to go sleepy.  We went in the house, curled up and it was all over.

The next day, I woke up ok, we broke snacks out with a bottle of wine and it all started over again.

He told me Wayne, another friend, heard I was in town and that he was coming by with some of our other friends to say howdy.   Of course, they saw the Jack on the table and the toasting and shots were on again.

So, 7:00 rolls around.  We drove down to his Mom’s place, which is only about 2 blocks from the Bowl.  We walk up the hill and find our place in the pit.  Front and Center my friends. 

Let me tell ya friends.  Santana, on a cool October night, with an even cooler buzz is a BAD ASS show to see.  All the smoke and light effects pulsing along with the music.  Saaa-weet.

Anyhoo.  Show over, time to go.  But wait.  I gotta pee. 

Problem.  The line to the little girls room is at least 34 miles long.

“No worries” says SBs.  “We’ll catch a porta-potty on the way down the hill.”

Great.  But, in a pinch I was willing to deal with it.

So, these porta-potties are on the way down the hill, literally.  Sitting.On.A.Hill.

Me + too much Jack x hilly porta-potty = Disaster.

I get in there.  It’s dark.  I thought I had my jeans down enough to hit the spot and nothing else.

Wrong.

I tinkled ALL. OVER. My. JEANS. 

Dammit.

Lesson learned.  Never try to pee in a porta-potty if you don’t feel stable enough to squat.

Poopie Diapers, Baby Barf & Formula

Posted in Asshats, Diva's little public service notices, Here's Some Philosophy, Lame and stupid crap, sex, skanks, sperm and sperm donations, teenagers, The Soapbox, you are a psycho on July 2, 2008 by catscratch

An open letter to the stupid little girls at Gloucester High School in Gloucester, Mass.

Dear Soon-to-be Teenage Moms of Gloucester High,

Question.  Have you lost your ever loving little minds?

Question.  What the fuck were you thinking making a pregnancy pact?

Question.  Did you even consider for one second what this will do to the rest of your family?

Seriously. 

It’s not cute.  It’s the absolute stupidest thing I have ever in my life heard.

Being pregnant is only the beginning of this.  Sure, you’ll all wear maternity clothes and think you’re so cute.

Then there’s labor.  Have fun with that. 

Do you realize what happens when you give birth?

Not only does an object as big as a bowling ball come out your va-jay-jay, no.

Then the fun starts, ladies. 

Yes, oh, yes.  Fun, fun, fun.

Trust me here.  I became a lovely teen mom at the ripe old age of 15.

So, this is experience talking.

How do you plan to pay for formula, diapers, A & D ointment, bottles, wipes, clothes… all the things your child will need?

Do you plan to finish school or be drop-outs and go on welfare so that all of you can just sit at the park and let your little dirt monkies run around wild while you collect a check and the rest of us pay for them?

Do you really expect this to be a great time?  There will be snotty noses, sleepless nights, shitty diapers, uncontolled crying fits… and that’s just when they are little.

Then they grow up to be intellegent like you and they sass, backtalk, get on drugs, get pregnant.

Want to go out with your friends? Good luck with that.  You have a kid now.

Just because people like Jamie Lynn Spears did it??  At least she has the money to pay for a nanny.

It’s not like in the movies. 

A young girl I know just had a baby, luckily she graduated first.  She’s 17.

Did she think her life was going to change?   Not so much.   Did it change?  Oh hell yes it did.

She can’t just pick up and go to the amusement or water park anymore.

She can’t just go to the movies anymore.

Not only do you have to find a babysitter, but you also have to have the money.

Her money is now spent on diapers and clothes and formula.

Unfortunately, your school is not the only school playing this little game.

It’s an epidemic of sorts.

The above mentioned young lady, she said that it happened at her school too.   My old school.  22 pregnancies in one year.

I wish you all the best in your life.  I hope you don’t drop out, and I hope you are able to make something of yourself.

Me, I struggled to raise my daughter.  I didn’t have a social life.    I was 30 years old before I was able to enroll in college and finish.

Life isn’t over, girls, but it’s gonna be a long row to hoe.

Heathens, Hypocrites & Halos

Posted in Diva's little public service notices, life in my house, Religion, The Soapbox on June 29, 2008 by catscratch

A good friend of mine in here on Blogger’s Lane, The Warped Mind of Ron, did a post on Religion. 

Yah, yah, yah.  It’s not ethical to talk politics or religion…

Oh wait, that was what they told us not to discuss with clients when I was in beauty school…  but this es mi casa on Blogger’s Lane and I can be as unethical as I wanna be, huh?

Ron’s post basically stated that he beleives in a higher power and:

“In the end an act of good committed in the name of any deity is still an act of good and an act of evil committed in the name of any deity is still evil. It’s not the label you chose wear it’s the choices you make in life.”

I couldn’t agree more with that statement.  Just because I don’t actively participate in church doesn’t mean I don’t believe in a higher power.

Which brings me to my subject at hand…. heathens, hypocrites & halos.

I suppose I would be classified as a heathen. 

Websters says a heathen is an uncivilized or irreligious person.  That’s me.  

I suppose I could qualify as civilized easy enough, I don’t fart or burp in public.   Nor do I chew with my mouth gaping open or talk when my mouth is full.  In short, my Mama done taught me some manners.

With regard to religion though… no thank you.  You can keep it.  I am old enough to decide for myself that church ain’t my cuppa joe.  Don’t get me wrong.   I may be a heathen.  I may not go to church.  I may smoke and I may drink. 

And God knows, I’m catty.  Not a gossip or a hater… just catty.

That in mind, I do know right from wrong.  I know the commandments.  I live my life and I do good by others.  If I see someone who needs help, I help.  If someone needs a shoulder or an ear, hey, here I am. 

I do unto others as I would hope they would do for me. I will get my halo. 

I’m not sitting in church, pretending that I am at least as Holy as Jesus himself and then going out gossiping or closet drinking or cheating on my spouse… all along acting the good part.

All my years growing up (until I was 17 and made my escape), I was forced into church/religion.  Pew jumpin, Bible pounding, fire and brimstone Southern Baptist upbringing. 

I actually enjoyed the social side of church until I was around 14 since the youth group was always doing something super cool. 

It wasn’t so bad until we moved to Tennessee.  Right smack in the heart of the Bible Belt.

Maybe the pastor was sincere in his teachings.  He knew scripture well enough to know every single passage about tithing and giving and yelled enough to keep a the dozing types awake… and the congregation….

This is where we get to **hypocrites….

I have never been around so many people who were there for the fashion show and the social hour rather than for the learning of the Word.

My aunt is a socialite and a big time mover and shaker in this congregation.  She is there to be seen.  She holds social functions at her huge house to be noticed.  She does this not so much because she wants to open her home up to share, but she wants to be sure that all the other hens in the coop are certain to be ranting and raving for days, nay, weeks about her, her house, her clothes, her perfect family.

These women gossip about each other.  Tell each other’s secrets and are meaner than the biggest asshat I know.  They fuss and fight over who will be sitting at the pastor’s table at the next pot-luck.

The pastor himself is trying to build a mini empire.  HUGE church, HUGE school, HUGE college.  More like a huge gated cult for social climbers.

What gets me is this.  These so-called Christians, who are called by God to spread his word, wouldn’t piss on someone who was on fire if they were from outside of the bubbled in social circle. 

I know this pastor and was a loyal (forced, but loyal) attendee.  He knew me and he knows my extended family very well (snooty auntie).   As does his wife. 

But, if you pass them at the grocery store or any other place, they will look up, take note that you aren’t in their social circle, and look away so as not to have to speak.

That my friends is hypocracy.  If you preach it or listen to it and act like you believe it, you should live it…. not just act like it.

**Disclaimer.  I do not think all good, clean-living church folk are hypocrites.  Nor do I believe all Pastors are in it for the money.

I’m just giving an account of why I choose not to do “religion”.

An Occifer, A Porn Star & The Internetz

Posted in Asshats, Diva's little public service notices, Porn-o-graffiti, Priceless shit that makes the news, sex on June 17, 2008 by catscratch

Let’s start with some shameless self promotion.  Come see my picture blog,  pleeeaze.   One picture per day of something or somewhere super swell.  

 End shameless self promotion attempt.

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Say, did you hear the one about the Tennessee State Trooper and the Porn Star???

Sounds like the start of a really bad joke, huh?

Actually, it’s funnier than a room full of Michael Jackson impersonators whipping each other with wet spaghetti noodles….  

AND it’s no joke.

James Randy Moss, of the Tennessee Highway Patrol, had an anonymous complaint filed against him by a cupie doll named Justis Richert in Nashville, TN.

We here in beautiful KnoxVegas should be proud to boast that Justis, a.k.a. Barbie Cummings *snicker*, is a Knoxvillian. Let’s pause and give Barbie some well-deserved kudos. She makes our community proud by being a big-time porn star who makes her living by flying back and forth to the City of Angels to shoot her fair share of scenes.

I would now like to paraphrase for you how the skinny goes down:

Occifer Perv-A-Lot (OP): Hey sexy, can I see your license & registration?

[Queue Saxaphone Music]

Local Porn Queen (LPQ): Why yes occifer. Here’s my license and registration.

OP: Well, these seems in order. (Hiking up pants, Barney style) Miss Richert, do you have any drugs on you or in your ride?

LPQ: Why hell yes I do. Want some? They are my happy pills, they make me happy and extremely horny. Oh, by the way, I’m a porn star. I can rock your world, baby.

OP: Realllllly now? You aren’t just saying that to get my manhood roaring and to get me into some serious trouble later?

LQP: Oh, no, occifer. I wouldn’t do that in a million and one years. Don’t you have a lappytop in your crusie-woosie. I can show you my work. By the way, my stage name is Barbie Cummings. *snicker*

OP: Well, first, Miss Cummings *snicker*, you’ll need to give me those pills so I can fix your problem. (OP scatters dim pills in da bushes) Now lets take a little stroll on back to my cruiser and we’ll see just how good you really are. How’s that sound?

LQP: Well, okay. I think that was really neat what you did.

(Getting into the cruiser and turning on lappy)

OP: Wow, girl. Look at you go. Say, what’ll it take for a nasty, middle aged, perv with a badge to get up next to a sweet thang like you?

LQP: Jeez, I don’t know. Maybe if you tape it with your cruiser camera so I can remember you.

OP: Fine by me.

Some various acts of a sexual nature were captured by Occifer DipShit as he rolled tape. You know Barbie might have fear of performing action without the lights and cameras.

To make a long story even longer, this guy gives her a copy of the tape…. Where she….you guessed it… POSTED IT ON HER WEBSITE FOR ONE AND ALL TO SEE….  ( No linkies are to be found… they pulled it).

I wonder if this would actually be one of the lamest things I’ve heard?