Dear PETA...

Dear PETA,

I am writing you let you know that I am doing my part to protect the turkeys this Thanksgiving.

I went to my local gro'cho store and adopted a turkey named Perdue. I think she is French, but I'm not sure. Anyway, while I was there I decided to adopt a few lobsters too.


I know lobsters aren't very 'Thanksgiving-y', but they have rights too! You should really consider a "Save the Lobsters" campagin, you know? I mean, yeah, lobsters aren't very cute and cuddley, but they are people too and just because they look different doesn't mean they don't count. Something to think about.

But I digress.

When I got Perdue home I noticed she was looking a little pale, so I stuck her in the oven, which is really just a 'tanning salon' for turkeys.


She spent 4 hours in the 'salon' at 325 degrees. It worked. When she was done with her session, she had a nice golden tan.




Also, my lobsters smelled a little fishy. I tell you, it is really a crime how they treat the animals in the gro'cho store--pale turkeys and smelly lobsters? You should really do something about that too, protest or something.

Anyway, I prepared a hot bath for the lobsters and scrubed them clean. Boy, did they hate that! They were screaming the entire time, it reminded me of a little kid throwing a tantrum when its 'bath time.'

As you can see, both the turkey and the lobsters are looking much healthier since I have adopted them.



The only thing is, they aren't very responsive, they just sort of sit there. I don't think they make very good pets. I am considering letting the pack of wild Indians next door adopt them.


They look like a friendly bunch, don't they? I think it would really make their celebration of Thanksgiving special.


Sincerely,

A. Beaverhausen

I'm Sick. Fuck!

I don’t do sick well. Being a true Leo, I hate getting sick and being out of ‘commission’ (hehe).

I hardly ever get sick and rarely go to the Doctor’s when I am. I grew up with parent’s who believed you could cure anything with vitamin E, honey and apple cider vinegar.

Like the time I got a rusty dart (and didn’t have a current tetanus shot) stuck in the top of my foot and my vein was gushing blood and I said “I really think I need to go to Hospital.” My parents replied “Oh, its nothing. Here, just put some vitamin E on it and it will be fine.”

They didn’t believe in Psychology either, they believed your ‘problems’ were all in your head…it’s amazing I turned out so well adjusted, really.

So I have been feeling really shitty all weekend and I was hoping it would go away, but it hasn’t. I finally coughed up a lung last night and decided, against my better judgement, to go to the Doctor.

“Ms. Beaverhausen, I believe you have walking pneumonia,” said the Doctor.

“As opposed to running pneumonia?” I asked.

“It’s not funny, its quite serious, it could turn into full-fledged pneumonia and you could end up in the Hospital,” he said.

“Oh, shit. That’s not good,” I said “Mind if I smoke? I’m just really stressed out right now.”

“There is no smoking in the Doctor’s office, Ms. Beaverhausen. And, considering your lungs are inflamed, I would highly suggest you quit.”

“Sure, I understand.” I began “Is it still ok to smoke weed?”

He didn’t seem amused. “Now, Ms. Beaverhausen, are you currently on any drugs?”

“Just the weed,” I replied.

“No, I mean medications,” he said very annoyed.

“Oh…yeah. Let’s see, Xanax, Prozac, Zoloft, a couple other mood elevators…”

“Let’s move on. Anyway, are you allergic to any drugs?”

I thought for a minute. “Well, I don’t think so. Although there was this one time, on ‘shrooms, I got really sick and puked for like four hours…”

“Again, Ms. Beaverhausen, prescribed medications.” He snapped.

“Oh. No. But, I really don’t like swallowing pills, gag reflex, you know? I’d prefer liquid. Oh, and flavored if you can. Bubblegum. Or strawberry.” I said.

“That’s not possible; you will have to settle for pills. Here you go,” he says and hands me a bunch of prescriptions. "Also, I would like for you to stay in the next few days and rest. Do you need a Doctor's note for class?"

"Yes, but actually, I have a test Friday so if you could date it for then..."

"I don't think so." He said

"Ok, well how about you just leave the dates blank and that way I can make copies and use them when I don't 'feel well,' know what I mean?" I said, winking at him.

"No, Ms. Beaverhasuen."

“Ok. Oh one more question, Doctor; can I still use heroin while on this medication?”

He shook his head and began to leave the exam room, “Goodbye, Ms. Beaverhausen.”

“Doctor?...Doctor?...,” I called out after him.

Well. That was very rude and unprofessional, I thought to myself.

So, now I am sitting here with my prescription Leavaquin, an inhaler, and a bag of Sweet Lady H and I don’t know what to do because my Doctor is a jerk.

I wonder if I can sue him for malpractice…

Oh, Balls!

Can I just say, I love balls.

I really do. I know its a little different, I mean, its not everyday you find a woman proclaiming her love for balls. Usually we love a nice dick, chest, ass, forearms, etc. I love all that too, but I really love balls.

See, what happened was, I was reading Ninj's tea-bag post and kept finding myself going back to check out the picture of the guy's balls. He has a nice little sack there.

It got me thinking about how much I love balls.

My perfect night in would be Ninj's ballsack and I lying in bed watching a Tim Burton movie and eating popcorn. Oh yeah--Ninj, you can come too, if you want, although I only really need your balls. (PS--I hope you have nice balls, otherwise...)


Anyway. I love balls. An I really love to play with them.
Men's balls have always reminded me of those stress balls. When you squeeze a guy's balls (much more gentle then you would squeeze a stress ball, of course) they do something similar to a stress ball. They take on different shapes and you can feel the testis inside moving around. I love that. Plus, playing with a scrotum gives me the same relaxing feeling a stress ball does. I love balls.

They also remind me of Chinese exercise balls. Although, you can't move the scrotum around quite as easily as the Chinese exercise balls, you can simulate. I love to hold a pair of balls in the palm of my hand and sort of juggle them back and forth. Juggling balls really clears my head. I love balls.

Another thing I liken to balls, is Newton's Cradle. This seems to work best with a pair of low hangers. I like to watch them bounce off of one another.

I love balls.

If I had a set of balls, I would play with them all the frigging time! (Fuck off Ninj, I said IF I HAD A SET...)

Redneck Wedding.

I attended a redneck wedding this past weekend. I guess the groom sells weed to my friend so he got an invite and asked me if I wanted to go. I said ok. I mean, it’s a redneck wedding, wouldn’t you go?!

First of all these two people should not be getting married and procreating. The bride is 6 months pregnant and I heard she actually shot her husband in the foot once during a quarrel.


The ceremony was held outside in their yard. It was fucking freezing. I overdressed. I wore a simple, clean black dress. But, when the wedding party is dressed in Wranglers and Lycra, a black dress is overdoing it.

I also didn’t fit in because I am not a redneck and I have all of my teeth. Although, I do eat my ice cream with a fork…but, I don’t know if that’s redneck or just good sense. I mean, ice cream just tastes so much better eaten off a fork, I don’t know why, but it does. Trust me.

Anyway, the newlyweds danced their first dance as Mr. and Mrs. Bubba Mann, III to the theme song from the movie “Deliverance.”

By that time the pig was roasted and we ate. Normally when I am at a public event I eat very little, you know to impress guys, but since there was no one at this wedding I wanted to fuck, I went back for seconds and thirds.

All they had to drink was Coors Light. I asked somebody’s cousin’s-mother's-uncle what I was supposed to do with my empties, and they told me “Eh, jus’ toss ‘em on in thare.”

A couple of beers later, I really had to pee. But the toilet was occupied.


I decide to hold it.

Suddenly, everyone was drunk. People were jumping into the swimming pool.


The Bride was doing Keg-stands.


And drunken Cousin Earl was showing me his newest tattoo.

I was just praying they’d hurry up and cut the Ring-Ding and Twinkie cake so I could get the hell out of there.

At the end of it the new couple got into their “limo” and we saw them off.

They were heading off for their Honeymoon Cruise.

Meow.

Everytime you masturbate God kills a kitten. Think about it.