Why Blonde Caucasion Females Should NEVER Wear an Afro: a Photo Essay

A new version of The Star Spangled Banner has been written in Spanish. There is a remix also coming out about the "mean laws" in our country that would send ILLEGAL immigrants back to their country.

You know what, if they keep this shit up there will be some MAJOR problems. You know what, allowing ILLEGAL immigrants to stay is an INSULT to all of the LEGAL immigrants who did the paperwork, waited in the lines, LEARNED THE DAMNED LANGUAGE, so they could be here.

I have no problem with people coming to this country BUT we NEED laws that control who comes in and who doesn't. We can't just pick and choose what laws we are going to enforce. Hey, if they're going to just let all of the illegals stay in this country because they have family here now, then we also need to say, "Hey, all of you people who committed other crimes before your children were born, we'll just pretend it didn't happen so you don't go to jail. Don't wanna hurt your kids." You know, you should have thought about the effects of your illegal behavior on your children BEFORE you had them.

I'm not a cold hearted person. Anyone who wants to come here through the proper channels, and are willing to speak ENGLISH, I welcome with open arms. I don't expect you to loose your heritage. Celebrate it. But don't come here and change OUR country to fit the one you left. Obviously the way things were done in your country did not work for you. So why the hell come here and try to turn this country into the one you left? You came here because it's better, you wanted a new life remember? New life means you must...
~C~H~A~N~G~E~.

And don't ask me to feel sorry for people who BROKE THE LAW and then are upset because they may have to pay the price. There are military personel who have married over seas who spend YEARS getting their spouses here. These are people are AMERICANS who not only PAY TAXES but PUT THEIR LIVES ON THE LINE to serve this county. If these most deserving persons have to wait to get their families here, why should non-American smoos get to stay because they snuck over the border or refused to leave when their visa expired?

Those. People. Broke. The. Law.

End of story.

And now The Star Spangled Banner is being butchered and used as a protest for this criminal act. I'm pissed.

Hand me a frigging gun.

And I know how this is going to sound, but uh, FACTS are that the higher the number of certain people, the higher the crime rate. Hmmmmm...let's figure that out. And don't give me some whiney bullshit response like, "They're poor, they have no choice." Listen, I live in a state and in a county with a large number of people living under the poverty level, yet, amazingly enough, very low crime rates. Hmmmm...most people don't even have to lock their doors, even those that live right across the street from the trailer park full of people living below the poverty level.

'Nough said.

Chernobyl's Legacy: a Photo Essay
I will warn you, it will make you cry. And it will make you very grateful for your life. Sometimes we all need a little reminder of just how well we have it.

I have cramps. Someone please pass me the Midol. Pass me the Midol and a baseball bat. And someone stupid to hit. Because I have cramps. And they suck.

HEY! Remember when this guy was considered sexy...and talented?

Yeah, me too. That would make us OLD. Yes that's it, we're getting old. That means that the clothes we use to wear in high school that went out of date, will soon become "retro."

On another old note...I went to the health food store today. It's 25 minutes away. It's run by Mennonites (they're like Amish people, but they drive cars and use electricity, and the women can wear dresses with some designs on them instead of sticking to blank, brown, and navy). I went there because I needed supplements. I needed supplements because I'm in the beginning stages of menopause and it sucks donkey yack.

So $77 later I have a bag of mint morsels, a bag of yogurt covered raisins, raw local honey, loose tea leaves (maybe I'll try reading them...HA! anyone know how to read tea leaves?), lavender flowers (I don't know why really...it seemed like a good idea at the time) and supplements that will hopefully prevent the night sweats that plague me every 30 or so days which force me to change my PJ's three times in one night and soak my bed sheets so I end up sleeping in the overstuffed arm chair in my room. Huh.

The creator is a man. I know this because the Goddess wouldn't do this to us.

I'd just like to make it known to all of my readers that MISS KENTUCKY won Miss USA. yes, Miss li'l ol' Kentucky (who was in our Tater Day Parade BTW) is now Miss USA. I feel so proud!

YEEEEEEEEEEE! HAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWW!

It's 3:45 in the morning and here I sit. Why? I'm so glad you asked. This is how my day has been thus far:

11:30 - Got to bed...finally

12:00 - Woke up to crying daughter who ate too much junk food today and puked all over herself while she slept. Bathed her, blew her hair dry, got her tucked up in a sleeping bag on my bedroom floor.

12:40 - Get back to bed.

1:30 - The alarm goes off on my special little radio that sends out obnoxious and loud beeping sounds whenever the National Weather Service puts out an advisory for our county. It's a tornado watch. wooo hooo. We get those all the time. Back to bed.

3:00 - A different type of obnoxious and loud beeping sound goes off. The red light starts to flash. I go running up the stairs, "Get to the basement! Get to the basement NOW!" The kids are champs and go heading downstairs to safety. I grab a few blankets on my way down.

Then I grab the alarm to take to the basement.

Silly me...It never occurred to me to check WHAT kind of warning it was. It's 3:00 in the morning and we were already under a tornado watch. See, the county next to us was being put under a severe THUNDERSTORM warning (hey...golf ball sized hail...). Of course, I couldn't tell the kiddos this because next time it really COULD be a tornado warning, then they wouldn't believe me.

So we sat in the basement for half an hour just to keep it real. Then I commended them on a job well done.

It was a good dry run. I was worried about how quickly they would react in the middle of the night. Now I know. Got all those sleepy heads of mine into the basement in under thirty seconds. I'm happy. I was planning on doing a middle-of-the-night tornado drill in the near future anyway. This worked out well.

Now they are in bed. And now, here I sit, because, hey! I'm not getting any sleep tonight because the storms are heading our way and I'm pretty darned sure that there will be a legit tornado warning for my area by 4:30 this morning. Why tease myself by lieing down in bed at all?

MY BEAR IS HERE!!!

MY BEAR IS HERE!!!

I only have him until Tuesday, so you won't be seeing me until Wednesday more than likely. Have a great weekend! Happy Easter!

My dryer blew up.

You see, first the belt broke. When I called about the belt I also informed them that my clothes were taking two hours to dry. Then the dumb ass repairman shows up with the wrong belt (he didn't think about checking the model number to see which one it needed, just hoped it would be a standard size...duh...). He tells me he'll order a belt to the house. It would arrive in 3-7 days. Then I could call him to come out and put it on. Seeing how I've repaired a washer motor before I asked him if I could just put the belt on myself. You see, five children no dryer is a pain. I'd already waited ten days for him to show up. Now I had another 3-7 for the belt to show, then another week for him to get out to put it on? Uh...no. Twenty dollars at the laundry mat each week wasn't sounding too good either. He quickly agrees saying that it would "save" him from having to come out here again. I put the belt on just like he said. It's not rocket science.

I press start.

Spin, spin, BOOM! POP! sparks, smoke out the back of the machine.

I quickly unplugged it from the wall. Then I called the warranty company back to call the people at Sears "incompetent dickheads."

So how was y'all's day?

Tator Day weekend was the first weekend of April. Here are some highlights. I have over 100 pictures.

See, it's a big holiday around here.

Yes, that's my six-year-old shooting a gun. If he practices enough, maybe he'll be able to start shootin' possums an' rabbits an' deer for dinner. Yeeeeeee-Haw!

Lookie! It's our town's new fire truck!

Ooooooo! Aaaaaah! Ain't it purty an' shiny?

Here comes the high school marching band. Don't laugh, folks, they're one of the best in the country and have performed for the President of the United States and have performed in college bowl games across the country.

Here's the end of the parade. At least 300 people on horseback. Next year I'll be in there with 'em.

Hey, did I mention the hand dipped corn dogs and the carnival? Fun was had by all. We can't wait for next year!

I'm sick. Send me your love.
I'm going back to bed.

"And thou shalt call her name Dumb Ass, for she shall be an idiot amoung dogs."

I know, she looks adorable, and she is. But truly, she's stupid. Last night we were hiding out in the basement waiting for the tornadoes to go away. Dumb Ass got up on one of the shelves in the laundry room. She got into my soap making supplies. She pulled out a bottle of castor oil. She chewed off the lid. She drank half a bottle.

Now some of you are already going, "Oh! My! NOOOOOO!" For those unaware of the effects of ingesting castor oil: it's a super laxative. I couldn't leave her outside. We were finally out of the tornado warning (tornados in the area) but were still under a watch for several hours (conditions are ripe). Plus, she sleeps in a crate so I was just hoping to get her outside as soon as she whined to go.

No such luck.

Whatever you can imagine, multiply it by 10...100...1000! Her cage was full of brown, slimy waterish...stuff. It was on her. It was on the floor. She shot it out her ass onto the brick wall.

Do you know how to get that stuff off of real bricks and mortar? You scrub it with a tooth brush and hot soapy bleach water. You open all the windows and bring in a small oscillating fan to blow the fumes away from you (super fumes because you clean the the stuff off the floor with straight bleach first so you can get to the wall). You have to do this so you don't gag to death and pass out. Then you scrub...for 45 minutes.

Yes, her name shall henceforth be known as Dumb Ass.

Aren't they adorable???!!!

These are baby Barred Rocks. They're good winter layers. This means that we won't need to set up artificial light during the short days of winter to make them lay eggs (sunlight is needed to stimulte a hormone in the hens' ovaries to make them lay). Later this week we might be heading out to Murray for a couple Aracona's as well. They lay colored eggs. Their nickname is the Easter Egg Chicken.

Bear said that he will clear the land for the chicken coop while he's here. Hopefully we'll get the concrete foundation poured as well.

Right now they're in a brooder, which is simply a cardboard box with a heat lamp over head. In about four months they'll start laying eggs, about three each a week.

You know I live in rural country America because after purchasing these two babies I had to run a few errands. The chicks went with me. We were in two grocery stores, a dollar, and a hardware store. No one could care less. In fact, everyone wanted to see them. See, people around here know that it's chick time. Most people around here have farm animals. It's a way of life. And it's the life we want.

On a different note...

I try to keep my blog non-political, but I'm pissed. I'm pissed because it is behavior like this that creates disharmony in our country. It also creates resentment and hostility between the races. Here are the undisputed facts:

* A member of Congress entered a building guarded by the Capital Police.
* Said person is NOT WEARING their required Congress member ID.
* Said person had just changed their looks.
* An officer asks said person THREE TIMES to stop.
* They ignore the officer's request.
* The officer touches this person to get them to stop.
* Congress member then hits the officer.

If this were say Mitch McConnell, Bill Nelson, or Mark Pryor, white males, there is no doubt they would be named as the cause of the problem (like when that white Congress member was stopped by airport security). There would be an apology made. If it were Shelley Berkley, JoAnn Davis, or Jean Schmidt, white females, more than likely, same thing.

But is wasn't any of the afore mentioned, it was Cynthia McKinney, a black female out of Georgia.

And she is playing the race card. Her official statement:

"Let me be clear. This whole incident was instigated by the inappropriate touching and stopping of me, a female black congresswoman," McKinney said. "I deeply regret that this incident occurred."

***I must note that her use of FEMALE congressWOMAN made me laugh. I thought the two were synonymous. Could there be a MALE congressWOMAN?***

Back on subject, I'm sure that this incident had nothing to do with:

Members of Congress wear identifying lapel pins and routinely are waved into buildings without undergoing security checks. McKinney was not wearing her pin at the time, and the officer apparently did not recognize her, she has said.

You did see that SHE ADMITTED not wearing her proper ID.

There are witnesses:

Several Capitol Police officials have said the officer involved asked McKinney three times to stop. When she did not, he placed a hand on her and she hit him, they said.

Well, I have an official statement of my own, "Let *ME* be clear. This whole incident was instigated by YOUR error and YOUR inappropriate lack of respect for the authority of the officer, a person who is there to protect you. I deeply regret that your head is up your ass."

Hey, my body let me sleep in this morning, 6:20, an extra 35 minutes, Woooo! Hoooo! I just had to share my joy.

Had quite the laugh this morning, thanks to AOL. There was great ad. The first just says, "Inspirational Newsletter," the the next slide said, "Have Better Sex," after that, "Get Promoted," the last one said, "Improve Your Career."

Anyone find the humor in this, especially since all the writers are women?

More SpongeBob Questions...

Check out the comment left after my SpongeBob post:

NickLiason said...

Hey Krystal,
I've worked at Nick for a few years as a "developmental liason" to help parents out with different issues of concern they my have; ie: are SpongeBob and Patrick gay (most asked question). I have a coworker who actually monitors blog activity and can identify which blogs have any of the shows characters as a subject (technology is great huh!). This is how we found your entry. To the point though. The writers for SpongeBob try to enforce safety concerns parents may have. Thus when "swimming" SpongeBob is responsible by wearing floaties. This helps its viewers, both children and parents alike to remember an important safety feature while at the beach or poolside.Hope this helps. By the way, SpongeBob and Patrick are "non-sexual", they couldn't care less about it.

P.S. Really enjoyed reading other entries of your blog. Keep up the great job.

Regards,

NickLiason
3:15 PM

Sorta cool. I sure wish that I knew how to contact this guy though because I have several other Sponge Bob questions to ask. For example:

Sponge Bob agreed to pay Mr. Crabs for allowing him to work at the Krusty Krab. That's how he got hired. So what I wanna know is: Where does Bob get his money from?

And how do they keep the Krabby Patty buns from getting all soggy?

And you know that time when Sponge Bob and Patrick ran away because of the balloon they didn't know was free and they lit a fire to stay warm? Where did they find dry wood AND how did they get the flame to burn under the water? The science behind that mystifies me!

And when Sponge Bob drains his tub, where does the water go?

And why does Squidward use a towel? Does he really get dry?

I'd also like to know what Patrick's on because ... WOW!

And where could I get some because ... WOW!

So it's flooding and I'm in a canoe and I'm paddling by hand. I'm lost. I'm scared. There's a flood and it's rising and I'm tossed about with no control of where I'm heading. I see this man and he says he's gonna help. He starts walking and pulling my canoe and he starts pulling the canoe down, but he's above water. He must be 10 feet tall. The canoe starts to fill and my head goes under. I open my eyes and I can see under the water: plants, weeds, the water is somewhat murky. I'm afraid of what else may be in there. Somehow I break the man's grasp on my canoe and it starts to float again.

Then I'm in this room with glass walls, glass windows, a glass door. There is a short hallway and at the end I see another glass wall and door. The flood waters are coming, the water is quickly higher than the door at the end of the hallway. It begins to shake. There is water leaking into the hallway and into the room I'm in. There's another person in the room with me. It's a man, but I don't know who it is or why he's there. We've put everything up high and out of the inch or so of water on the floor. We shove towels up against the crack at the bottom of the door to slow down the water that is seeping in. There is only one way out. We're trapped.

In the hallway I see a wooden bookshelf. My Daddy's trumpet is on the bottom shelf. There's nothing else on the bookshelf. The water hasn't reached Daddy's trumpet yet. I tell the man in the room with me that I need to save Daddy's trumpet. It's all I have left of him. He tells me not to go because the door could fly open any minute and the flood waters will rush in and rush me away with them. It isn't worth my life he says. I can't stop myself. I open our door and rush out into the hallway anyway to retrieve the trumpet.

I rescue it and run back to safety, what little safety there is, and just as I close the door behind me the hall door bursts opens and the water gushes. The man in the room with me blocks our door to help prevent it from opening to the flood waters.

It works.

The flood freely flows into the hallway and down the corridor out the other end. It lasts for only a few seconds. Then the water is all gone. The flood is gone. And I'm in the glass room alone.

Then I wake up.

And just now as I've finished typing this out and read it through I realize that the man in the room with me was my Daddy, and I didn't recognize him. Oh God, what's wrong with me? It's all too metaphorical and it hurts.

Why is it that I've watched Spongebob for YEARS and only just now do I question why the heck does Spongebob need arm floaties for at the beach?! He lives in a pineapple...UNDER the sea....He's a SPONGE. He can float on his own and swim. He's a sea creature. I've seen him swim with the jelly fish once. So what's up with the arm floaties?

And why go to the BEACH?! They all live on a beach. The floors of their homes is freaking beach. THEY LIVE UNDER THE SEA!

And the purpose for the lifeguards would be...? They all swim, they're FISH.

* Homemade bread is the best. Yes, I make bread.

* My eight-year-old informed me this morning that once his air bending skills are strong (it's an Avitar thing), he'll be able to fight tornados. I told him to not even THINK about it.

* I saw this today. It made me cry.

Family Buries Remains of Frozen WWII Airman

BRAINERD, Minn. (March 24) - Leo Mustonen's closest surviving relatives grew up knowing little about their uncle, other than that he died in a military plane crash. That changed only with the improbable discovery of the World War II airman's body, frozen in a California glacier for more than six decades.

People in this town who remember the handsome blond man shared their memories with Mary Ruth Mustonen and Leane Ross before his funeral Friday. They learned he was an ace student who excelled in science, who played in the school band and in sports, and who dreamed of working in aviation even as a boy.

"It's been pretty incredible," Ross said. "He's become really a person. He really feels like he is ours now, and we've grown to love him."

Mustonen's nieces were among about 100 people who gathered in their uncle's hometown to bury him. A full military funeral followed at a cemetery overlooking the Mississippi River.

You can read the full article. Rest in peace, Airmen Mustonen. You've earned it.

Another Oprah Dream...

She lived up the street from me. She invited me to one of her shows. Madonna was there and Oprah had all of these stylist people there telling Madonna how the last time she bleached her hair she stripped it really bad. I wanted to ask Oprah to get me Madonna's autograph just for the heck of it, but I decided that I shouldn't because I'd look like one of those people who are totally enamored by Hollywood, which I'm not. In fact, I find the Hollywood glitz and glamour to be quite obnoxious. Just one more reason why I don't understand why I keep having dreams about Oprah.

The Madonna thing I understand. When Fred and I were discussing my odd dreams, he mentioned Madonna. Thanks, Fred. Fred's theory is that my not being able to get laid because of Bear being so far away is somehow forcing these little boxes inside my head to open up. We'll run with that one for now because NO ONE ELSE has given me any insight.

So I ask, what good are you people if you won't help a woman in need???!!!

I've been having crazy dreams. Insight would be appreciated.

First I had these two dreams about Oprah. I don't watch Oprah so I don't know why I had a dream about the Diva, Big Jay (whom I've seen ONCE since high school), and me at a birthday party with her. It was just the four of us and we had to climb this really steep staircase that was more like a ladder than stairs. There were no railings and no sides. We were all fairly certain we would fall. Pretty freaky.

Two or three nights later I had another dream where I was hanging with Oprah. I don't remember exactly what happened, but it seems that it was just her and I doing something or other. Again, I thought this was odd because I don't watch Oprah.

Then last night I had this really strange dream that defies any and all explanation. I went over it several times in my head because it was so bizzarre.

The kids and I were staying with my mother (shoot me now) while Bear was trying to sell the house. We left the kids at her house and went to some park for something. I ran into Sabu and Moanique there. They were waiting to hear this awesome band that they've gone to see several times. My mother had taken off and said she'd be back in fifteen, so I said I'd listen to a song or two since it was right there by where the car was parked. Plus I had my cell phone so she could call me. So we're sitting around waiting for this band to play, but instead they start showing these pictures of the band on a screen showing how to make brownies. Sabu and Moanique were sitting there going "What the fuck?" We thought this was like a funky intro or something. But then the band members actually came out to give a cooking session on brownies. The entire audience really got into this. Whatever.

So I go back to find my mother. Only about five minutes had passed. I can't find her. The car is gone. Where the hell did she go??? I go for my cell and it's missing. There are cell phones charging all over this crowded park (which in my dream had morphed into some type of bar/restaurant). I can't find mine, so I stole someone else's after about an hour of searching. I call my mom and she says that she just has to deal with Daddy's death in her own way and she taken off with some random guy she ran into at the park before it morphed. They were going off for a weekend trip. So how the hell was I suppose to get home and what the hell is her problem leaving all the kids there alone for so long. Again, she tells me that she has to go off and deal with Daddy's death her own way. Alrighty then.

Then all of a sudden I'm at her house (which was nothing like her house) and I walk out early in the morning to see my insurance agent coming out of her bedroom in satin pajamas. They're all hugging and kissing and being very sexual towards each other in front of me. I'm freaking out because they had just met and she let him spend the night with her while my kids and I are there. PLUS one of my kids could have walked out at any time and seen them acting like this towards each other. They were practically screwing on the kitchen counter top (thankfully I didn't actually see this in my dream or I might have woken up blind, I just saw myself yelling at her thoroughly disgusted). She tells me it's her house and she'll do whatever she damn well feels like. The next night it was a different man (I don't know who this one was). I started getting sick to my stomach and I'm telling Bear that the kids and I have to get the hell out of this place.

Then this giant hole appears in one of the walls and I woke up.

ON ANOTHER NOTE...

In case one of your eyeballs should ever fall out of its socket...

My Eyeball Just Fell Out of Its Socket: What should I do?

Not all popped eyeballs come from head trauma. A few people can luxate their globes on purpose, and certain others get "spontaneous globe luxation" when their eyelids are pushed in the right way. Someone with shallow eye sockets or floppy eyelid syndrome, for example, might pop his eyeballs during a regular eye exam. You can also trigger luxation while putting in your contact lenses, or with a particularly violent sneeze. You might even pop your eyeballs by trying to exhale while keeping your nose and mouth closed (i.e., performing the Valsalva maneuver).

If your eyeballs fall out of their sockets repeatedly, you might be a candidate for a lateral tarsorrhaphy—in which doctors sew up your eyelids part of the way to keep them from opening too wide. You could also learn the following technique for popping your eye back in yourself: First direct your gaze downward. Now pinch and pull your upper eyelid with the thumb and index finger of one hand. Lay a finger from your other hand on the top part of your luxated eyeball, taking care to press only on the insensitive white part. While you continue to hold your eyelid up, push your eyeball gently down and back at the same time until it's part of the way in. Then try to look upwards; if everything goes right your eyeball will rotate under the upper lid and back into its socket.

Just thought that might come in handy for one of you folks someday...

Two posts in one day, yeah I know...

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!!

I'm an AMAZING mom, let me tell you WHY...

So first we had dessert at DQ. Then we came home for a dinner of corn beef, cabbage, and Irish Brown Bread because I'm IRISH and I love St. Patty's Day!!!

Then we were listening to Trace Adkins when THAT song came on. My 4-year-old daughter and I jumped up on the kitchen table and started dancin' and shakin' our bedonky-donks (that girl can shake her be-hind prety damned well) when my six-year-old son wanted to know why only GIRLS could dance on table tops. The teenage son replies, "Because it's HOT!"

Yeah, BABY! I'm doing my job and I'm doing it well!!

I think my son may be scarred for life though. I made him take these pictures. He said that he made sure to get "lots of skin for Dad".




Well, my job here is finish. Now it's time for something to drink...Bailey's IRISH Cream. I wish I had some beer too. Catch you la-tar...