Archive for the Here’s Some Philosophy Category

Damn the Luck

Posted in Here's Some Philosophy, karaoke, life in my house on July 21, 2011 by catscratch

It’s no joke when I say I truly work my ass off.  And I’m not tootin my own horn when I say I’m one bad ass woman.  I’ll not bore you with the details.

Anyway, since I’m so bad-ass, I decided to take the evening and chill like I like to chill when I found out nobody else was home.  The boy is at work… the man is with his amigo chasing truck parts around the greater southeastern region…

What to do ?? 

Pop the cork out of a nice bottle of merlot, crank on the karaoke maker and sing, then retreat to a bubble bath. Most relaxing of plans for me personally.

So, the wine is breathing and I’m sipping a little, rockin some Rod Stewart when the power flickered a couple of times and POOF….. no music, no lights, no AIR CONDITIONING…. It’s like 980 degrees up in here and the last thing I want to do is drink merlot (it gives me hot flashes) or take a hot bubble bath (more heat stroke)…

I suppose I’ll go sit outside in the shade where its only a humid 100 degrees or so and stare at my dogs.  Can’t take my laptop with since the battery says 66%, which translates into about 8 minutes in real life.

Damn the luck.


Thunder Storms, Bad Color and Lesbian Haircuts

Posted in Asshats, Barbie is a slut, Big T, Here's Some Philosophy on June 23, 2011 by catscratch

Well, after all the build… not a damn thing noteworthy happened at work today.

Not one phone call… but I’m sure the voicemail is jam packed with griping bitchery.  There was a helluva storm in the greater metro area last night and it appears Comcast can’t get it together fast enough to get everything up and running again. 

Phones by Comcast.  Internetz by Comcast.  So, I had a very productive day today not having to listen to people on the phone telling me why their homeowners dues are late and how they mailed their payment already and it must be lost somewhere since the post office just doesn’t give a crap and how the damn lawn care people haven’t come and trimmed their already well manicured shrubbery…   So, tomorrow will be a scary day in management land, but today… today was pretty good.

Anyway, over the last weekend, I went to the beauty supply place and got a gallon of bleach and went to town doing my roots since  God didn’t see fit to let my hair stay as blonde as it was when I was a young’n.   I’ve been doing this routine for years.  Color and trim my own hair.  And for years and years, I was actually good at it.

Until this time.

First, I left the toxic goo on my mop way too long and frizzled the ends of it. So, it needed to be trimmed.  So, I got the scissors and started to trim it.  All was going well.  Dead ends were flyin. 

Then it happened…. I slipped. 

No, not just a little gap.  A full two inches of my fried locks fell to the floor.  I stood there and tried to objectively assess the damage.  But, there was no salvaging it.  It had to be chopped off.

During this few minutes, I saw the last two years of growing this mess out, flash before my eyes.  Two years of babying, pampering, trimming… all gone with one bad pass of the scissors. Dayum.

Now, I was starting to feel my neck turn red and my pulse in my neck was busting.   I think I even felt my eye twitch.

As it turned out, I had to cut the sides so short (the back has always stayed short) that I look either like a really old lady with bad color or a short lesbian.  I’m still trying to determine which…  Now, don’t get me wrong, I have no qualms with any chick that digs the girl on girl relationship.  I have lesbian family members and a variety of gay friends… so I’m totally not knocking anybody.

My problem with the lesbian scenario is that the cut isn’t saying I’m not a cute little lipstick lesbian.  I don’t have cutsie poo poo Barbie hair anymore.  Rather, due to the two toned stark contrast in color, I look butch.  Big T has taken to calling me Butch as a pet name.  He thinks all of this is freakin hilarious. 

My boss, texted her gay hairdresser and begged him for an appointment.  She told him she couldn’t take it anymore.  She told him she stops in front of my office and laughs.  Cold. Cold. Cold.

So, you see why I’m so upset over this whole hair thing.

Anyway, the hairdresser texts her back and I’m supposed to have my butt in his chair, on the clock, paid for by the company as a bonus treat.  I suppose that could be considered silver lining… bonus hair cut and color done by a gay guy.  If you’ve never had your locks fondled by a gay hairdresser, let me tell ya something… you have no idea what you’re missing.

Hopefully, this will solve all of my hair-do-don’ts.



Frustrations on the Home Front

Posted in Asshats, Diva's Bitchin, Here's Some Philosophy, Lame and stupid crap, life in my house, Nasty Filthy Places, Those People I Live With on April 9, 2011 by catscratch

Since the last big bit of crap I got for my sarcasm and anxt, I have been pretty much keeping my opinion and complaints about life to myself…

Sometimes, venting (even if it’s just to blow off steam and really means nothing to anyone but me) can backfire… literally.

Whatever.  I’m just as full of sarcasm and anxt and pretty much miserable with life in this house.  All I can say is choose carefully before you make a big, fat, wrong life choice like getting married. 

I mean there are ALOT of factors involved in compatibility, and people should really pay attention to those factors.  Unlike yours truly.


I can’t tolerate his daughter.  She is horrible.  She won’t work and try to support herself.  She moves out. She moves back in. She moves out. She moves back in.  She steals from us, and when I say steal, she wiped him out.  She lies and denies.  She’s lazy. 

And at this point, toleration isn’t anything I can make myself feel.  I look over at her and I get angry.  I hear her voice and I cringe.  I see her eating and it makes me sick.  That’s all the girl does is eat, sit, sleep and run the roads.  God forbid she get a job.  God forbid she try to buy her own shampoo, soap, hair dryer. 

Why work when Daddy will keep letting her go in my room and use my things.


When me & Big T were just dating, he played himself to be a real family man.  He played himself off as someone who enjoys being around friends and interacting with people.  Yah, not so much. 

It is so easy for someone to fake someone else out when they aren’t together 24/7.  This man doesn’t do anything.  Nothing.  He sits on the couch and smokes cigarettes. 

Chain smoker.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I smoke.  But it’s a pack every couple of days. Sometimes less.  This man goes through a carton of smokes in three or four days.  He’s not the healthiest person to begin with, but at this point, his health is his problem.  He doesn’t care, why should I?  But, my house SMELLS SO BAD.  And it’s impossible to get the stink out.   

He is lazy as his daughter and son.  He sits all day and the stupid dogs, which nobody wants to take out when I’m not home, apparently pee somewhere in this house.  I don’t see it, but I can smell it and it disgusts me.

I’m a neat freak and there is no way for me to live the way I want to in this house.  I work 55 or more hours a week.  None of these people that live in this house work.. or do house work.  I come home to dirty dishes pile high in the sink.  I come home to cook after I clean the kitchen and then I clean it again.  I have to dust and vacuum.  I have to scrub the toilets.  God forbid any of them do anything around here.

SEX – What the hell is that?  After four years of marriage, I do believe I could be certified as a re-confirmed virgin, and that my friends isn’t by choice.

What to do??

Family Outings, Fish Bowls & Man-Whores

Posted in Here's Some Philosophy, Mother-In-Laws, Obscene Drinkin, out N about, The Inner Circular People on November 16, 2008 by catscratch

This will mostly be a photo blog prefaced by a short overview of the evening and full filler to explain the pix.

Let me start by saying.  You are never to old to go to a male review, ooooogle at scantily clad men and drink the brew. 

Let me also say… Hunk-a-Mania is not a male review like say Chippendales or Thunder From Down Under… 

Quite the contrary.  Hunk-a-Mania is a bunch of male strippers who bring womenfolk up on stage who are willing to pay $10 to have a penis swung around in their face.

I will also say… I did not have a penis swung around in my face.  My $10 was better spent on cold beer.

My sister in law called me the other night:

Sister in law:  “You wanna go on a girls night out Thursday?”

Me:  “Uh.  Where ya goin and what’chall gonna doin?”

Sister in law: “Cotton Eyed Joe for a strip show.  Me, Leacha, Christine, Paula & Mom are going.”

Me:  “Your Mom’s goin????”

Sister in law:  “Oh yah.”

Me:  “I’m in.  Tell Mom to wear her shit stompers cuz afterall Cotton Eyed Joe is a shit-stomper bar”

Sister in law:  *giggle*

***************Flash to Thursday night. 


We got our drinks and found a place to kick it.  Note that Paula and Christine opted for a fishbowl full of PGA and grape Kool-aid.


Now, my mother in law told me that she was going to be protective of me as I am married to her hubby’s son.  Turns out I wasn’t the one they needed to worry about.




Christine strips one of the strippers. 


All was going well.  I had not ooogled, screamed for these scantily clad men or done anything to make my mother in law think I am a total skeeze not worthy of her son.

I sat there drinkin beer and text messaging my daughter like a good girl. 

Then it happened. 

Christine thought it would be funny as hell to get me a body shot from this guy:

Right…. seems like the road to hell is paved with good intentions, right?

Anyhoodles.  It just goes to show no matter how young or old you are and how much ya try to stay out of trouble….

It never fails…

Trouble will find ya 🙂

Gutted Pigs, Rock n Roll & $130 Quilts

Posted in Community Spirit, Here's Some Philosophy, Prayer request on November 13, 2008 by catscratch

Howdy people!    I know you were thinking “I wonder where in the hell Cat’s been?”

Well, maybe not.  That’s a little self absorbed of me to even think y’all would be thinkin something like that.  But it makes me feel all warm, fuzzy and important to think I’m missed when I go MIA.

So, I’ve been such a ray of sunshine so negative and outright poopy for the past several days weeks months minutes.  I’ve been trying to regroup. 

I’ve been trying to focus on the positive things. 

Believe it or not, when you look for them, you can find things that are positive.

And when you really think about it, no matter how damn bad things can be, and no matter how much one obsesses and pouts…

There are always people and situations around that pop up.  Those people and situations kinda make me feel like an asshat for whining and pouting all the time.

The latest act of heart felt love was shown this past weekend.

A friend of ours, the lil fella who was a groomsman in our wedding, Lawerence, has been diagnosed with cancer.  It’s in stage four.

Now Lawerence is a young pup.  Only 23ish.  He has a sweet little wife and 2 beautiful babies.


He’s had to quit his job to undergo surgery after surgery and now he’s going through chemo.

Ok, back to the love.

Over the weekend, the whole community got together to have a Pig Roast.

This was my first experience with a pig roast.  Wasn’t so sure what to expect.

So, they roasted a 300+ pound piggy and sold BBQ plates with fixins.

They also had more sweet stuff than one could possibly choose from for sale.

In addition, not just one band donated their time and money, but four bands.

Four bands, people! 

First up was a bluegrass band.  Mountain Grass.



Next was a country cover band.  JP & the Hillbillies



Then a southern rock band.  Whiskey Tenor.  (Cool name, huh?)



Last a local band with a whip ass singer (Connie) and her husband (can tear it up with the guitar).

Lonesome Heart.



Local businesses and individuals donated goodies to be raffled off.

All of the proceeds were collected for Lawrence & his family to help them get through this hard time.

And a quilt was auctioned off.  I thought Big T was gonna win it.  He was biddin on it (cuz me and Danielle were freezing).  But, when it hit $120.00, he quit bidding and told us we’d just have to freeze our balls off.


It just seems like a higher power keeps on telling me in not so subtle ways, to keep my head up and my eyes dry.  Things are not that bad.

SEX, Excuses & The VOLS

Posted in Here's Some Philosophy, sex on September 12, 2008 by catscratch

Or lack thereof.

 As I usually do on Friday afternoons here in the office, when it’s quiet and nobody’s around to ask me anything and the UPS guy has come and gone….. I’m surfing the Internetz.

I came across this link that made me say BULL SHIT.  Double BULL SHIT even.

Those of you who ain’t into clickin linkies, I’ll tell ya what it said.

It said (and I quote) “Married Women Hate Sex”.


They do?   I can’t hardly believe that as I am a lover of sex.  And I am married.   That said, I have to admit, my marriage is pretty much sex-less.  Which sucks.  And is not by choice or of my doing.

Anyway, enough of my normal tanget about not getting any… here’s what the “survey” found….

50% of women find sex either depressing, embarrassing or a hassle: We also found out that although 77% of the women claim their sex life is somewhat to very important to them, 54% of married women admit they’re the ones who don’t want to have sex.

Huh?  Sex, depressing?  How the hell can it be depressing if you’re gettin some??  I mean really, I’d take mediocre sex over no sex.

What would women rather do than have sex?
• 24% would rather take a bubble bath.
• 26% would rather read a book.

Come again?  Ok, ok.  I’d rather take a bubble bath if it means I’m gonna get some under the bubbles. But read a book?  Oh hell no.  I can read my romance novels before hand to get my bosom heaving in anticipation of his throbbing manhood.

Also, according to our survey:
• 23% of the women who have sex do it because they love their husbands and want to make him happy.
• 49% of the women have sex because they want it.
• 26% of the women surveyed say their sex lives took a turn for the worst after they had children.

Now, I’ll admit it.  When my kiddies were young and apt to run into the room unannounced, it may have been a slight turn-off.  But, I have never been one to hit it because it makes just him happy, at least that was the situation with the ex. 

According to statistics, living in a sexless marriage is VERY common; however, for some reason, it is still one of the most taboo subjects around.

Taboo my ass.  I bitch, fuss and moan all the time.  I started reading some of this crap I found on the internetz.  I found some interesting facts.

* A sexless marriage is one in which a couple has sex less than 10 times per year.  Yikes.

*A 2003 Newsweek magazine study concluded that between 15% and 20% of couples fall into this category. That’s enough for experts to label it an epidemic.

I’m curious.  I want to know if one lives in a sexless marriage, why one lives that way.  I want to know what it is that keeps folks in a sexless marriage.   Does solo sex get boring?  Does it make one more pissed off?

AND on a lighter more happy note…

UT is playing UAB this week.  All I gots to say is that if the VOLS lose, I’ll have to change the color polish on my toes before I go back to the office down there.  I can’t be sportin’ orange toe nails if they kick the shit out of us..

Unusual Areas, Working out the Kinks & A Pure Heart

Posted in Fortune Cookie Wisdom, Here's Some Philosophy on August 18, 2008 by catscratch

I’ve learned from my collection of fortune cookies slips, I mean assuming the Fortune Cookie Nazi (FCN) caves and puts one in my little take-out bag.

Speaking of him though, it appears that me and FCN have called a truce for now.  So, I’m overwhelmed with mass quantities of wisdom and deep knowledge.

 In the past, there was an ongoing battle over the fortune cookie.  Simply put, that I wanted a fortune cookie, not for that crispy cardboard taste, but for the lil snippet of knowledge held within the hard cookie wrapper.  And that asshat wouldn’t give me one.

Anyways, for the past few months, all’s been well.  I’ve gotten my fortune cookies.  So, now I can bore you with my cookie wisdom.  Yay!  I know you’re fucking thrilled. 

In my mind, I got this particular cookie because it’s destiny and so it should actually pertain to my life in some way.  Stupid, huh? 

“You are vigorous in words and action.”  You ain’t just whistling Dixie on that one.   I vigorously chase my man for sex.  I vigorously bitch and moan at the kids to do chores… I vigorously trot around the nation acting like I’m working.

“Your skills & talents will be called on in unusual areas.”  Well, I hate to say, but my mad skillz ain’t be called on in bed.  But I digress. 

My mad skillz have been called on and I’m officially proofing and editing all materials written in our company prior to publication… English skills.  BORING.

Besides, having skillz and talent to use in unusual areas could be alot of fun if the opportunity should ever present itself again.

“Working out the kinks today will make for a better tomorrow”  Working out kinks would be alot of fun.  One would think anyway.  Think of all the positions you could work into.  But, I don’t think that sexual positions are what they had in mind. 

I’m thinking they were referring to say money problems or buying a house….  So, if I could just kick my mortgage’s ass and pay off the beastie things would be peachy.  But, I’m bound to be in this damn mortgage for life and I have a bad habit of trading vehicles as soon as they’re paid off.

What does that mean… I’ll be in debt….  until Jesus comes back.

“You have had a good start. Work harder!”  Ok, I have been married less than a year.  Sure, everybody’s first year sucks salty, sticky balls (so I’ve heard) and then after that its supposed to get better.

Right?  I mean I always hear “The first year is the hardest”. 

 “Your heart is pure and your mind clear and your soul devout.”  Pure heart?  Clear mind? Soul devout?  I think I got the wrong damn fortune cookie here.  Apparently the Fortune Cookie Nazi didn’t see my horns and pitchfork when he slipped the cookie in the bag.

I don’t know, maybe my soul is devout.  But my mind hasn’t been clear in, say, 20 years.  Like since I was in high school and I had no worries.

“You will soon be honored  by someone you respect.” Dayum.  Now this one has some serious possibilities.  I mean I could be honored by Bill Clinton, Paris Hilton, Timberland or maybe a gaggle of cheerleaders… But there are so many more… The anticipation is getting my panties in a wad.

“The best times of your life have not yet been lived.”  This one I believe.  I’m pushin 40 and looking forward to it.  The two teenage-mutants will have hopefully graduated and will hopefully get the hell out of my house while furthering their educations and living on campus.  Either way, by the time I hit 40, all of the collective kids in my house will be old enough to have lives of their own and I’ll not be a taxi, referee, short order cook or prison guard anymore. 

I’m not trying to rush them away.  Really I’m not.  I just know that soon enough I’ll be able to make plans for me.  I’ll be able to go do what I want, when I want.  I will be able to just eat a bowl of cereal for dinner and not have to worry about anybody bitching because I didn’t cook.    Wonder if I’ll suffer from empty nest syndrome?

So, there ya have it.  Fortune cookie wisdom at its finest. 

Have a MAGNANUMUS MONDAY, kiddies.