Well, Mike Johnson is dead. I don't know all the details. Probably never will. My former husband told me yesterday, that Mike "Spode" Johnson had drunk himself to death. Figures.

When my former husband was fresh out of high school, he and a few of his buddies moved to northern California. I mean, real northern California. To a place called Chico - and then, to a place called Paradise. Chico was until they decided to drop out of Jr. College, and Paradise, because it was really cool up there, and they could have goats... Anyway, the guys lived in either an old, abandoned house, or teepees in the woods. They had goats, cats, and hippie girlfriends who danced naked and painted the walls of the abandoned house with prints of their hands. They ate acid constantly, played in a progressive rock band and drank like fish.

Each and every one of this group of guys, grew up to be brain-fried drunkards. Damn, the '70's were harsh!

So, Mike Johnson, the last holdout to still live in Chico. "Spode" who was hysterically funny and completely brilliant - continued with tradition to the very end. He died the way he lived. Drunk on his ass...


Today was the last day of my summer vacation. No more lingering in bed until 6:30 a.m. No more watching re-runs of General Hospital while I put on my makeup at a leisurely pace. Nope. School starts on Monday, and it'll be jumping out of bed at 6, waking the kidlet at 6:30, and 6:40 and 6:45... Fixing a faaaaabulous breakfast. Arguing over who's turn it is in the loo. Rushing to get out the door by 7:40. Fighting traffic with other mommies and daddies to make it to school on time, nly to arrive at my office a half an hour early each day, because the kidlet starts school at 8, and work starts at 8:30. Waaaaaa!


I really, really am tempted to go out this weekend and get a dog. Maybe it's some left over hormonal, nesting instinct. I just want to get the tiniest little dog I can find. Someone who won't freak the cats out, and if he/she has a little "accident", it can be picked up with a napkin. A doggie I can tuck under my arm, and take to the mall. I hope this mood passes before I'm left to my own devices tomorrow. I don't think I'm capable of making sound decisions at this time.


Oh yeah. In conclusion - George Dubya Bush is such a loser! He can't get any of the powerful countries to help him blast Iraq. You know, I might be tempted to take his rhetoric seriously, if I wasn't dead certain, the only reason he needs to get into a fracas over in the middle east, is so he can rally the great unwashed flag-wavers behind his 2004 presidential bid, with a good old fashioned us-against-them war. What a Loser!!!!!

September 06, 2002

Buh Bye!
October 05, 2008

Be Afraid, People.... Really Afraid
September 01, 2008

One Last Bitchfest for the Road
August 24, 2008

Get the Popcorn Ready
July 17, 2008

I'm a Rich Ho-Bag
June 20, 2008

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