kkktookmybabyaway

How much debt do you currently have?

Smitty and some other people in the teaching arena might be able to help you out on this, but aren't some states now requiring teachers to get Maaster Degrees if you want a somewhat decent job in the education field?

The plusses: 1) From that pic she looks cute. 2) She's in a wheelchair, so with a broomstick to the spokes there's no escape for her. The minuses: 1) Kid #1. 2) Kid #2. Iggy has a good point about you not being experienced enough to handle this one. Do the kids live with her or the dad? Also, have you ever considered adopting some kitties? (I can’t remember if this was mentioned before, and I’m not going to bother to check.)

I've moved five times. Each time I said I'd never do it again. I think I bought a house to make sure my next move is either to the old folk's home or to crematorium.

But she ordered a Western BBQ Burger THREE TIMES! Her kids were HUNGRY and she was going on the HIGHWAY!! And they were MOPPING THE FLOOR!!! "You're supposed to be here to protect me." Awesome. Anyone recognize the roads the caller was talking about? I'm guessing this took place in California. EDIT: It did take place in California; one of the responders to this audio said so. What's just as funny is the political discussion that went on toward the bottom of the page.

I think wishing you a winning lottery ticket would be better.

Ditto regarding the bachelor party. I figure enough money is being spent already on one woman with the upcoming wedding -- what's the point of wasting cash on another?

KKK’s Top 103 Posters Number 57: El Santiaco I know El mostly for his insight on movies and other entertainment-related material. Although I didn't care much for Donnie Darko, (the best part of the film for me was the line "I'm voting Dukakis"), he also likes Knight Rider and Hellboy in all of their check-your-brain-at-the-door goodness. In addition, we both agree that the best zombie is a slow-moving zombie. Speaking of zombie movies, I still don't get all the love for Shaun of the Dead. I bought it (on sale, of course) and laughed at a few parts, but that was about it. I guess you really have to be into the zombie genre in order to fully appreciate this movie. (I'm sure the same could be said about me and my love for "Don't be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood.") • If you read yesterday’s entry, you probably caught the babble Psycho Princess and nl-asshole spewed out in regards to Mrs. kkk mowing the lawn instead of me performing this tedious chore. The shock. The horror. The outrage. This got me the thinking about other around-the-house duties the better half and I perform and who does what in this union of wedded bliss. Fifty-plus years ago the husband in a marriage was supposed to go out and bring home the bacon while the wife would cook, clean and take care of the kids. Fast-forward to 2006; this sort of role-playing is extinct for many households. What does the job arrangement look like at the kkk manor? Let’s take a gander. When Mrs. kkk and I bought our little slice of the American dream, we came to an agreement that I would mow the lawn while she trimmed the edges of our property with the weed whacker. This way one person wouldn't spend an entire afternoon doing yardwork. The funny thing is for as much as I suck at weed whacking, I think she is even worse. Before she broke the first weed whacker by putting the wrong kind of fuel into its tank, she managed to strike me with that wire shit that actually does the cutting. (I could also mention the time she got pissed off and kicked the weed whacker across the back yard because it wouldn't start. Wait a second, I just did.) Because she probably weed whacks once for every six or seven times I mow the lawn, she’ll surprise me every now and then if she has a day off and feels motivated to romp around outside for a few hours. There’s something else we agreed upon regarding outside work, and that involved planting flowers and other hippie shit. Basically the rule is I want no part of doing this. I don’t care what she does in regards to planting trees or removing shrubs. All I ask is that she not set fire to the property, hit a gas line, or do something that will require us to file a home owner’s insurance claim. When there’s a sizeable job that needs to be done, she’ll call on me to do the heavy lifting. Well, maybe not heavy. More like medium lifting. Take for example one of her summer’s big projects: removing two dozen cement blocks and several dozen bricks the previous owners had half-buried throughout the front and back yard. What is Mrs. kkk planning to do upon removal of these heavy slabs? I have no idea. All I know is that these blocks were a real bitch to transport. On the bright side at least we didn’t have to worry about hauling them beyond out driveway due to the fact her one boss took them for some project he was working on in his yard; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Other fun duties we share include raking the leaves that fall from our one backyard tree every autumn season. We also take turns shoveling snow in the wintertime. Why do we take turns with the snow? Because each of us can’t stand the way the other person shovels. I prefer to start in the middle of the drive way and shovel “width-wise” in both directions, stacking snow on each of the driveway’s edges. Mrs. kkk prefers to just shovel in one direction and scoop all the snow off to one side. There are other duties that for one reason or another each of us exclusively performs. If there is a hornet's nest that needs gassed, she takes pleasure in destroying it; however, should there be a dead bird that flew into our back porch’s screen, I am the one who buries the carcass. Well, that about covers all the work we do in regards the house's exterior. Tomorrow we'll see what each of us does indoors.

Try this. Get to the bottom of a bag of salt 'n douche potato chips, then take all that residue and put it into your mouth at once.

• So on Sunday the better half is having some sort of Tupperware party or whatever. I have no clue what the hell is going on, but she’s inviting some people over to buy some crappy houseware items and I’ll be confined to either to top floor or the basement. Whenever Mrs. kkk is expecting visitors she cleans up the house, and this upcoming event is no exception to this habit. To help her with the illusion that we’re not white trash, I decided to mow the lawn in preparation for her big brouhaha. Actually, I mowed the lawn today because the remains of Hurricane Earnesto are scheduled to make an appearance in the Mid-Atlantic region on Friday, and today would be the only time I would probably have in the next week or so to mow the lawn. Besides, I hate cutting the grass on a weekend; it takes away from the whole concept of doing nothing for a few days before going back to work. As I was preparing the lawnmower for another go around the kkk estate, I checked the amount of gas the mower had in the tank. There wasn’t a huge reserve, but I thought there would be enough to last one more mowing session. I thought wrong. Sonofabitch. I was about three-quarters finished with my mowing when the lawnmower began to sputter. I knew then that I’d be making a pit stop to the local Quickie Mart because the reserve gas can was empty. Since the better half mowed the lawn last time, she must have used up the last of the petrol. Oh well. I didn’t feel like using a credit card to pay for only two gallons of fuel, so I busted into the change jar and got out $3.50 in change to go along with the $2 cash in my wallet. Now I know what you’re thinking, “OMG he’s one of those ‘pays-with-change’ assholes.” Well, this time I was. However, I have a rule about paying with change. I try to make the transaction as easy as possible for the cashier because I HATED having someone just toss several dollars worth of quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies onto my workstation in order to pay for their purchase. I counted several times the $3.50 amount I had in just quarters, dimes and nickels (no pennies this time) and headed off to the local Quickie Mart. As I pulled up to the store I stood by the entrance (out of the way of other customers mind you) to sort out this change once again. I put four quarters in one hand, along with ten dimes. I then put two dimes and six nickels on the other side of the quarters. In my other hand I had 20 nickels. I then went into the store and waited my turn. To my surprise there was only one cashier working during afternoon rush hour, but whatever. I approached him and said in a clear voice, “I’d like to prepay $5.50 for pump #3. I’m going to pay with $2 in bills and $3.50 in change.” I then put the four quarters on the counter. I followed it up with the 10 dimes followed by the 20 nickels and then the two dimes and six nickels. I had these coins spaced out so any right-thinking person could tell that I was trying to make the cashier’s job easer by separating the coins by type and in increments of $1 per pile. Hell, I was even telling this kid what I was doing as I was making my piles: “Here’s $1 in quarters, $1 in dimes, $1 in nickels and 50 cents in dimes and nickels.” So what does this asshole do? He takes all of the change, puts it into one big piles and asks, “Did you want to pay for this with exact change?” Oh for fuck’s sake. • And now it’s time for the Dr. Laura Call of the Day (or whenever I feel like doing this). Today’s caller was a 28-year old chick that doesn’t know what to do about her husband. She has been married for eight years and has two kids. Recently she’s had concerns about the way her hubby has been acting, especially when a few days ago he got drunk at 4 p.m. and got verbally abusive with her when she told him they weren’t going to have sex. Oh, and also their one kid had a friend over for a play date at this time, too.

At least I don't have her hovering over me whenever she thinks a bowel movement is approaching, you sick fuck.

Good one. I did the Olestra thing when it first came out. All was good for the first few bags of chips. Then it hit me. Hard. I had a bag or two afterward, but I can't remember the last time I had one of those "Olestra" chips. That linked article is pretty accurate as to what happens when the Olestra takes over.

If by... you mean... then you would be correct. Don't worry, though. Someday you might find unconditional love with someone who can be able to tolerate you for longer than five minutes after blowing a load all over your comforter. Someday.

Wow. I hope he can live with the fact he wasn't able to get on Team USA. Such a shame.

The cumulative league will work the same way as the team league. I'll be using the same point spreads as the team league and you'll just send in your picks (I don't see a need to PM cumulative league picks. I'm debating whether to keep the two leagues under the same deadline or not. I'm going to make two threads for Week 1, so people who don't normally view my pick 'em league will have a chance to participate in the cumulative league, then I'll just merge the two threads every week thereafter. I guess the only difference will be the cumulative league people won't need to submit a TB score. I'll also include all the team league picks in the cumulative league, sans EPs.

• So yesterday I got this pseudo-magazine in the mail that my local government school district publishes. As I was thumbing through it I got to a section where I was introduced to the new teachers at Norwin High School. Goddamn are these people young; at least three-fourths of them have to be in their low- to mid-20s (I can't remember a non-substitute teacher I had that was in his or her 30s, let alone 20s, during my school days). Most seem to be doing lower-grade subjects, which got me the thinking of a conversation I had with this chick back in Ohio about teacher’s pay. This chick from my time in Ohio had a degree in elementary education, or something similar, and was looking for a job teaching these little brats. Somehow we got on the subject of teacher’s compensation. Genuinely curious about this subject I asked her if she thought she should be paid the same as a high-school professor. She said yes, and I asked why. She couldn’t give an answer, and when I compared her job of making sure everyone has a blankie for naptime to the 12th grade AP Science prof dealing with chemicals that could blow up the school he or she is teaching in, I could tell by the stare I was receiving that I was getting into trouble. Oh well. Too fucking bad. • I don’t really care about the following article or the story it tells. I’m just surprised Utah has a Democrat elected to anything. • This headline made me laugh: Bucs' Sanchez Has Something to Play For. You bet he does – to be good enough to get the hell off this team via a trade or free agency. • The hell? You mean to tell me Republicans were around back then? Damn. Oh, speaking of wacky weather, I had Hannity’s radio show on for a few minutes today (Why oh why did Salem Radio get rid of Dave Ramsey?) and he had a caller that said if Bush caused Hurricane Katrina last year, shouldn’t he get some credit for moving Hurricane Ernesto away from Florida? For some reason this made me laugh. I guess Bush’s decision to steer Ernesto away from the Sunshine State was because the hurricane was going to hit some white neighborhoods. Think about that before you go vote in this year’s elections. Should Democrats take control of Congress, W. is going to fuck some shit up for you Seaboard districts with next year’s wave of hurricanes. Hell, I’m sure he also has power over tornados, earthquakes and volcanoes, so even if you live away from a large body of water, be warned. • And now it’s time for the Dr. Laura Call of the Day (or whenever I feel like doing this ). We have a tie. Caller A: This woman used to be married to this guy. They already had a few kids (I didn’t hear if they were through adoption or screwing), and then they adopted this girl. Well, it turns out her man was molesting the kid, and eventually he got busted. The happy couple has since split up, and the ex-hubby’s jail sentencing hearing is quickly approaching. This lady was asked by the State to appear and give some testimony as to what a bastard this guy was, but she’s not sure if she wants to do this. The reason? Because it might give her ex a longer sentence. Caller B: This divorced mom, complete with 14-year old boy, started a relationship with this guy who was also the father of a 16-year old girl. One day the caller walked in on the kids having sex. Her question was how to keep these two kids away from each other.

KKK’s Top 103 Posters Number 58: King PK He’s a mod that likes fiddling with the folders, much to the chagrin of some posters. He’s also an ass when it comes to NFL teams being in the correct division. But goddamn do I love that Avatar. • Well it’s been one year since Hurricane Katrina hit and we got to see the Great Society in all of its glory. And while journalists are commemorating the occasion with reflections of how heroic they were during this time last year in their reporting of mass rapes and cannibalism at the Superdome, it’s made me reflect and think of how lucky I am to be living near the Shittsburgh area. Yeah, you heard me. It’s hard for hurricanes to move in this far inland, and if Shittsburgh gets slammed, then I’m sure Philadelphia would be taken out first, which is a sacrifice I can deal with (wiping out Harrisburg when the state legislature is in session would be a bonus, too). I don’t think there are any nearby active volcanoes, and although we see a tornado every now and then we aren’t in Tornado Alley. The area doesn't face water shortages like the Desert Southwest, and it’s never too hot or too cold, at least when compared to Alaska and Florida. I guess nothing, not even bad weather, wants to stop by this neck of the woods. In fact, the only disasters I have to deal with around here are Democrats. Sure they may take my house via eminent domain (as probably would most Republicans), but at least I'd get "fair market" value and not be BUTT-fucked by my insurance company should a tornado touch down on my property line. • So it looks like that guy who claimed to witness JonBenet Ramey’s death probably lied about his involvement with this case. Don’t care. Whenever there is a media storm like this I run for cover by watching DVDs and playing video games until it is safe to turn back on cable news. My only question in this whole fiasco is what the hell is up with those pants? • This is why I hate it when "children" are mentioned in a story. Who gives a shit? The man died. Would it have been better if this happened during rehearsal or something when nobody was around? Damn this acrobat. Why did you have to die in front of the CHILDREN? • If this is indeed true, I’m surprised Amnesty International isn’t all up in a tizzy over this. After all, one of the worst things you can do to a Muslim male is have him watch an animation of himself having gay sex with Satan. • Now this is funny. However I’m a bit suspicious over the authenticity of this bathroom banter. Bitch you knew your mic was on the whole time. No married woman says such things about her lesser half.

I never paid attention to lovecraft's numbers, much like I don't bother with the user name digits of this bitch:

I’ve been on a customer kick as of late, so I might as well keep the trend going. Now normally bitching about stupid customers is what many former customers service representatives remember during their time at these go-nowhere jobs, but that isn’t always the case. I think one problem many customers have is that they always seem afraid to admit when they’re wrong or when they fuck up. One of my favorite customer exchanges came while working at the Quickie Mart. The store had an ATM and one afternoon a middle-aged woman went to use the services of this machine, which was one of those that you only had to swipe your card through rather than insert it into the machine. For some reason I caught the end of her transaction, and once her receipt was spit out she stood there in bewilderment for a few seconds. She then turned around to me and said, “The machine ate my card!” I replied, “No it didn’t.” When she asked, “How do you know?” I answered, “Because it can’t” and pointed to her one hand. It was at that time she looked down and saw that she was holding her ATM card. Now while many customers would probably get pissed off at this point, seeing how the lowly cashier had just “dissed” them, this lady just busted out laughing and did a variation of the “whoosh” gesture with her hand and the top of her head and left. If only more customers were like that. We all do dumb things every now and then, and if you can’t laugh at yourself then you can’t laugh any other people. On the flip side of this spectrum are the asshole regular customers. There were many at the Quickie Mart, but one that really sticks out was “One and One Man.” This miserable old bastard always came in and would order a small coffee and a newspaper. Since a small coffee and newspaper was something like one dollar and change he would always walk by a register, say “one and one” and toss the money on the counter and proceed to make a fucking mess of sugar and creamer juice by the coffee station. Now all of this was tolerable enough, but one time he pissed me off for what he did to a co-worker of mine. To say that this kid was portly would be an understatement; he was a big boy. However, he was a nice guy, but for some reason customers always gave him shit; probably because of his girth or something equally lame. Well one day One and One Man came up to his register with just a coffee, and this kid asked him, in a polite and courteous way, “Did you already buy your newspaper today?” One and One Man snippily replied, “Did you eat?” which I managed to hear. This pissed me off, and the stare I shot at him from the time he said that until he walked out the door made him aware that I heard what he said. For the next week or two I was a bastard (well, at least more than I usually was) to One and One Man. I didn’t say anything to him, but rather I would just accept his money and return change in the same manner he would behave toward us who worked at the Quickie Mart. One Saturday morning he threw his money at me for his “one and one,” and I proceeded to throw his change right back at him, turn my back and walk away in one swift motion. He then began screaming and my co-worker (a different chick from my 8/28 entry) had to play damage control, which was nothing new considering she was the “good half” to our morning tandem. Of course One and One Man would return and return again, and I don’t think I ever said anything to him. Hopefully he’s dead by now. • And now for the Dr. Laura Call of the Day (or whenever I feel like doing this): Some lady phones in and wants to know … actually, I don’t really know the reason for her call. All I was listening to was how she was unemployed and that she never gets along with the upper management at any of her places of employment. The problem, according to her, was the lack of support her bosses gave her when it came time to “back her up” with the employees she was supposed to supervise. You go girl. It sucks having to supervise people you had no part with during their hiring process. And yes, most upper managers are spineless, but that’s why they make the big bucks. However, when asked how many jobs she had worked the caller replied, “Three jobs in four months.” Goddamn, even I’m not that big of an insubordinate.

We had to play janitor (and rightfully so). However, I would like to go right by them and clean up as they were leaving. Many of them would get annoyed, but fuck them. One-and-One Man hated it when I did that to him. A few times I'd yell over to my co-worker "I'll be right back. I have to clean the coffee station," while One-and-One Man was still in the store. He wouldn't be pleased. Then again, this piece of shit was always miserable so fuck him.

Regarding the pants: There was a really freaky pick of his pants hiked up to his chest, but I'm not able to show that one. Regarding nl-asshole: Skinheads buttoned thier shirts to the top? Shut the fuck up. Don't you have another Internet vacation to plan? Regarding clown acrobats: They look freaky. I'd make sure I had on a safety net (or two), so to speak.

No Mitch Richmond? For shame. Now how will they get to the second round of the playoffs?

Yeah, and the Big Easy is full of chocolate.

Hope you have some money saved or going via scholarship.

Wow. I may be a Jew with my money, but that's just pathetic. If you don't want to hear him bitch, just go into the theater and he can wait for you outside until the movie is over.