I’m going to stab you.

Egads!  Weight keeps ballooning on me.  I am hoping that latest blood test gives me some hope.  Just haven’t felt very useful lately.  I’d say I haven’t felt ambitious, but that is an understatement.  I think I was one rung above coma status the past couple weeks as far as taking care of things around the house, writing, cleaning, etc.  Just been a bad time lately.

Last few days have been slightly better.  It really is a chicken or the egg argument with me and my roller coaster life these past years post thyroid diagnosis.  Does my thyroid get worse because I quit working out and my diet goes to hell or does my workout regimen, eating regimen go to hell because my thyroid goes to hell which makes those things seem too monumental to take care of?

I just wish that I could actually be on the same level of medication for more than three to six months at a time.  I want to be leveled off.  Every time I actually feel good, the doc tries to lower my dosage.  That always means my energy level gradually declines daily and the whole process is so subtle, that it is usually months before I realize that it might not all just be because I’m being a lazy ass worthless pile of bat guano.  Maybe I am actually sick.

Bah!  I’ll find out today because I’ll get the results this afternoon.  We’ll see I guess.

Update:  Yep, thyroid was bogging down again.  Should be getting a new prescription in a couple days.  Honestly, I had a feeling that was the problem and I found an old bottle of prescription synthroid and had taken my own little self determined dosage for a few days and have begun feeling better already.  I won’t get the full benefit of the higher dosage for two to three weeks though.
I know they don’t want my dosage to be too high because supposedly the more of the shit I take, the harder it is on my kidneys.  Well, every time I feel good they lower my medication and I gain 40 lbs.  How freaking hard is that on my body to keep bouncing from 230 to 270 and back again annually?
What I need is a good line to an illegal Mexican pharmacy so I can determine my own dosage and just cut these fucking doctors out of the loop.  
I have prepared a short screenplay of every six month cycle of my life for the past seven years below.  I am thinking they could get both John Goodman and Ray Liotta to both play my part.
Doc:  So how do you feel Mr. Harris?
Me:  Great!  I actually feel rested after I sleep.  I have energy to work out again.  I don’t fall asleep in my chair for 45 minutes after work every day. My immune system seems to be stronger as I’m not sick all the  time.  My eyes actually create enough of their own moisture for me to wear my contact lenses again.  All is well.  
Doc: ‘looks at chart’ I see, but your bloodwork says your prescription is too high.
Me:  That’s fine, but I have no outward signs of synthroid overdose.  I still sleep well at night.  I’m not nervous or jittery.  I am not anxious or “wired.”  I have in the past been on too high a dosage and I know what too much synthroid feels like and I have no discernible signs of overdose.
Doc:  Really?  Well we are going to have to cut your dosage back.
Me:  Did you hear a word I said?
Doc:  Yes, see…your dosage is too high so I have to cut it back.
Me:  But I feel good.  I feel good for the first time in years.
Doc:  Yeah, well that’s beside the point.  Your dosage is too high.  Let’s cut it back.
Me:  Every time you cut my dosage back you sentence me to six months of unregulated  weight gain, irritability,bags under my eyes, sleep does me no good, my sex drive declines, and even the smallest tasks seem insurmountable to me, which all combines into one big shit depression taco that I get to eat every day.
Doc:  So we’re going to cut your medication back to….
Fast forward to six miserable months and another blood test later….keep in mind…I have been on this same up and down cycle for years….
Doc:  So I see your TSH levels are messed up.   
Me:  Do the words “I told you so” mean anything to you?  I gained 34 lbs since I last saw you.
Doc:  Have you been taking ALL of  your medication?

Me:  What I actually say:  Yes 
(What I really mean:  I want to stab you.)

Doc:  Because you apparently aren’t getting enough.

Me.  What I actually say:   I told you this was going to happen and you always ask me if I am taking my meds when my thryoid shits out.   
(What I really mean:   Did you catch the part about ‘stabbing you’?)

Doc:  You have to make sure you take your medication every day.

Me:  What I actually say:  I always take my meds.  I have done so for seven years. Just admit  you were wrong and I was right.
(What I really mean:  In the head….I’m going to stab you…in….the….head.)
Doc:  So what I’m going to do is prescribe you a higher dose of synthroid.  

 (What he really means:  I am going to give you a brief glimpse of what your life could be like if you were healthy for a few months and then I will lower your prescription and I will rip it all away from you again because what my chart tells me is infinitely more important to me than what you
think, feel, or any of your life experiences while you have been ill for the better part of the last decade.) 

Me:  What I actually say:  I’m going to stab you.

(What I really mean:  I’m going to stab you.)


In case you didn’t realize it, I’m a teacher.

At what point was it that teachers became the great satan in this country?  People want to talk about how much money we make, how we don’t deserve our benefits, that we suck.  Very little of this appears to be true.

Let’s bust some myths.

Myth:  Sucky teachers can’t be fired.

Fact:  If the administration has done its job correctly, then teachers can be fired like anyone else.  Besides, in what other job does one spend four years basically on probation and can be fired without cause during any point of that process?  If your school has a bad teacher, then it’s because the administration didn’t do it’s job during the four years of probation.

Myth:  Teachers get paid like $1 billion dollars a year.

Fact:  Teacher salaries compared to the salaries at other jobs are actually going down.
( http://www.nea.org/home/14052.htm ) In other words, a teacher in the 1950’s could buy way more stuff than a teacher can in 2011.  Cost of living has gone up at a greater rate than teacher salaries.  Did anyone bitch and moan about those elitist rich teachers in the 1950’s?

Throw in the idea that it is much harder to become a teacher these days and also much more expensive since we have to continue taking graduate level courses for the rest of our lives.  Also, teachers don’t get paid as much as other jobs that require a bachelor’s degree either.  So pretty much, no matter how you slice it, it is hard to ethically purport that the reason teachers become teachers is for the money.  Most teachers I know work during the summer to make ends meet, too.  Of course, that’s probably just to help pay their groundskeepers, nannies, and pool boys right?

Myth:  People become teachers because they aren’t qualified to do anything else.

Fact:  Teaching is basically a five year degree.  Unless you think that nothing of value happens at any point in those five years, then I think we can safely assume that most people that become teachers have a reasonable knowledge base and are not totally brain dead.  At the very least, they can be taught.  That means most of them could very easily have learned a different trade if they had chosen to.  I chose to become a teacher mostly because I had no idea that pubic waxing would become a career option in the future.  Thanks for dropping  the ball on that one for me Mr. Career Counselor guy.

Myth:  Public sector workers get paid more than private sector workers.

Fact:  It depends on the study.  Most of the reputable studies I have seen say that private sector workers still earn more.  The study that Karl Rove’s silly little boatful of dumbasses keeps spreading was actually comparing public sector workers with jobs that required bachelor’s degrees, to what the guy makes that asks you if you “want fries with that.”  It’s all made up.

Of course that doesn’t stop Fox News from continuing to use the bullshit numbers given to them by Rove, but we pretty much already knew that most people working for Fox News have the equivalent moral compass of a compulsively lying, serial baby rapist.

Myth:  U.S. kids are way stupider than kids from other countries and it’s all the teachers’ faults.

Fact:  I will try to be brief.  In a lot of those other countries kids get tracked into vocational schools at an earlier age.  When only the kids that show an aptitude for school are taking your test, that skews the numbers quite a bit.

Also, parents in other countries give a shit about education and put more emphasis on the importance of education.  Sure a lot of  U.S. parents care too, but not like in other countries where teachers are much more respected in the culture.  So what do you think has happened to the American school system?  Did all the teachers get lazy?  Maybe they all became teachers in order to create stupider kids?   Unless you believe that teachers were better when they only had to go to college for two years to get a degree instead of the current five, then it is safe to assume the main issue in declining test scores is not that all teachers suck at what they do.

We could look at a myriad of issues to explain poor scores, but the idea that test scores are declining because of poor teaching just doesn’t hold water.

So apparently, teachers don’t generally stink.  They aren’t rich.  They chose teaching for their profession despite the money and not because of the money.  Again I ask, what are people so pissed off at us for?

It’s late and I am highly irritated.

  • The cost of living in a free society is that the top earners need to give back to the lower earners….or run the risk of all the lower earners rising up, bashing your grandma’s skull against a brick wall, eating your dog, fisting your wife, and taking all your shit. In past societies, folks have thought that revolution couldn’t happen…yeah…how did that work out?

    2 seconds ago ·  · Like · 

  • Someone pissed me off. May want to check out my profile. This whole situation has me a tiddle bit on edge.

    15 minutes ago · Like ·  · See Friendship

  • Just awesome to see how WI wants a “trickle down” economics guy…I mean that has worked out so well in the past 40 years…oh wait…what? It hasn’t? No shit? Really…the Republicans who claim to be fiscally frugal actually have spent vastly more than the Democrats have for the past couple generations? Is this a secret? No? Oh I see…it’s just because the Repubs hope we don’t fact check.

    18 minutes ago ·  · Like · 

  • So how much have property taxes increased during Walker’s reign? OWN crunched the numbers and found that Walker’s proposed budgets from 2003 to 2010 raised property taxes about 17%, while he’s increased spending 35%, more than Gov. Jim Doyle did during the same period. What’s more, fees on licenses, permits, fines and forfeitures have increased a whopping 129% during Walker’s tenure.

    22 minutes ago ·  · Like · 

  • Douchebag alert! Pay careful attention to how he “outsourced” local Wisconsin jobs to a national agency, how he jacked out money to an airport “for free”…something he dissed the current president for…and oh…the last item there on that page in which…well he just fucking lied outright.

    Nope…he’s got the best interests of theSee More


    Milwaukee County Executive Scott Walker has been continuously campaigning for governor for the past six years. So how do his campaign claims live up to the reality of his time in office? Here’s a look at some of his biggest claims: Claim: Walker

    25 minutes ago ·  · Like ·  · Share
  • Scott Walker lied to his constituents about the platform he would run on. It’s really no more plain and simple than that. One of his biggest supporters…the Wisconsin Law Enforcement have already turned on him because he is a liar.

    about an hour ago ·  · Like · 

    • Adam Damaschke likes this.
      • Wedge Harris If you still wish to believe that he is a good man because he wants to cut benefits to a group largely made up of lower middle class (do we even have a middle class in this country?) while giving $117 million in tax breaks to corporations…well then…just go fuck yourself because there isn’t anything I can do for you anymore.

        58 minutes ago · Like ·  1 person
      • Wedge Harris 

        Oh wait…you want to cite that study that says public employees earn double what private sector employees do? In general, public sector employees are better educated, and have job requiring more education that private sector jobs. If youSee More

        46 minutes ago · Like
      • Wedge Harris If all that above is just too many words for you to read…just go back to the “Scott Walker is a liar.” part and you will get the gist of the whole situation.

        41 minutes ago · Like
  • communities.washingtontimes.com

    Union busting accelerates as states seek to find a scapegoat: the middle class

Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo

Well that’s, a mouthful, eh?  I have it.  I’m lucky that way.  I know BPPV sounds like some really cool new rocket launcher one might find in a Halo game, but really it’s just a new sucky medical condition that I somehow found my way into.

Here’s the mechanics of it:  Why Wedge is Dizzy

I went to bed on Tuesday night feeling fine.  I woke up on Wednesday morning, got out of bed and immediately fell face forward into one of the posters on my canopy bed and desperately had to hang on to keep from falling the rest of the way to the floor.

I have had issues with mild dizziness due to blood sugar problems before, so I just waited until the dizziness and nausea passed.  As soon as I took another step I fell into my wardrobe off to my right.  At this point “What the fuck?” was the most eloquent thing I could think of at 5:00 in the morning after having fallen on two of my first three steps of the day.    I worked my way slowly to the bathroom only to realize my bathroom felt like it was bobbing happily up and down aboard the the U.S.S. Holy-Shit-It’s-A-Hurricane.  Seeing as how my wife absolutely hates it when I pee seven feet up the walls, all over the bathroom mirror, and into her laundry basket like some sort of demented garden sprinkler, I thought my best course of action was to sit down to pee.

Holding on to both sides of the toilet I gradually managed to settle the pendulum sway of the bathroom in my vision.  I did my business and got up slowwwwly to head back to the bedroom.  When I got there, I thought I must just be experiencing dizziness from some sort of flu-like illness and once I got up and going the symptoms would alleviate.

So, in the spirit of completely disregarding everything that had happened up to that point, I decided to think positively and took one full speed step forward and immediately lost my balance and fell off to the right and onto my bed.  If I was going to be wrong, I guess I was happy to be wrong next to my bed because there was no catching myself going down that time.

I lay sprawled on my back clinging with both hands splayed, fingers clutching the mattress and for one maddening instant, I had thought the bed spiraling beneath me was going to buck me off, so I clenched my ass cheeks harder for more grip and barely managed to keep from being thrown off.

Stare at this gif for about an hour and a half and imagine it moving 5X faster and you’ll know how I felt.  (http://n.sfwgifs.com/gif/vertigo)

Eventually the spinning subsided and after two more unsuccessful and, I’m sure, semi-hilarious attempts to stand back up, I finally called Kim into the room.  By now I realize something is really wrong and of course several things go through my mind:

Am I having a heart attack?  Nope, no numbness in any upper extremities and I haven’t started talking like Marlee Matlin so that means I’m probably not having a stroke either.

Am I drunk?  Did I drink last night?  Mmm, nope on the latter so I am assuming I am safe from the former.

Am I dreaming?  Probably not because I rarely feel like I am going to vomit in my dreams.

Geez, well then the obvious answer is:  brain tumor.


Kim helps me to the living room where I sit upright in a chair for a bit.  An hour and half later, I am still just as dizzy whenever I move and realize I can’t possibly drive to work.

I did my best imitation of a corpse for the rest of the day.  Being unbathed, I would imagine the smell wasn’t far off either.

I woke up Thursday determined to go to work.  It was exam week and I would be damned if some sort of brain malignancy or corpus callosum termites were going to stop me from going to work two days in a row during one of the busiest weeks of the year.  I wobbled my way up and down the halls all day, getting done at least a little of what I needed to get done, but by 11 a.m. the woozziness had gone from bad to worst.  At noon I called a doctor and he could get me in right away so I ducked out of work an hour early, fully prepared to find out what kind of terminal condition I had achieved.

After only a few tests the doctor informed me of my hugely uncomfortable BPPV problem and followed it up with the news that it was likely to last for three weeks to a month and more than likely recur off and on the rest of my life.  I couldn’t help but think how awesome it was that I wasn’t going to die, but that I was going to spend the next month and occasional random future months of my life wobbling around like a drunken 18 month old.  Fucking perfect.  I know.  Even a non-terminal diagnosis can’t make me happy.

Basically, my right inner ear was sending bad signals (not bat signals…that would have been kinda neat) to my brain telling it that I was in motion when I wasn’t in motion.  The dichotomy between reality and brain perception = vertigo.  I asked doc if that’s why the left side of my brain felt like someone had been steel wooling it all day.  Apparently, the brain will eventually figure out that it is getting bad information from that ear and then it has to kick into overdrive to figure out how it is going to filter out the bad information and reinterpret it based upon the information it is getting from my good ear and my other senses. Hence, the left side of my brain was overheating.  That’s kinda neat and all, but I really didn’t appreciate it at the time because I was death clutching the examination table I was sitting on, because it was trying like a bugger to tip me off.

Doc assigned me some exercises that are supposed to help the acclimation period go faster, but those first few days they were hard to do.  Imagine how you felt the moment you got off the spinniest carnival ride you have ever been on.  Now imagine feeling like that a 100 or so times a day.  It’s fatiguing.  I don’t know how the exercises are supposed to work, but basically they trigger the vertigo in the worst possible way over and over and over again.  So, working up the will to do them is not a small task.

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday came and went and progress was slow.  I looked sort of like the video below.  For the record, I am the black kitten on the right.

  Several times each day I reached out grab tables, refrigerator handles, doorknobs etc to keep myself from falling over.  By the end of the day Saturday I realized that even if my brain couldn’t tell left from right and up from down during the vertigo swarms I could still tell where my frontside, backside, this arm and that arm were.  As long as I knew where I was in the room, I could propel myself in the direction that would assure me of the softest landing and cause the least amount of breakage.  So although directions in the room around me were messed up when my head spun, my sense of where my body was, was still okay.  Say I had my back to the couch.   As long as I could tell which side of me my ass was on, I could push myself in the direction of my ass if I felt myself falling and be reasonably confident my ass would hit the targeted couch landing area.   I guess that’s what they call adaptation.

It is now Tuesday and the difference between how I felt on Monday and how I feel today are huge.  Still only at about 65% and too afraid to run, but for the most part I can walk at close to a normal pace and my headache is nowhere near the nuclear levels it had been at the previous five days.   It’s much easier to do the doc prescribed vertigo inducing, stomach flipflopping exercises now that I already feel a bit better.  I even got something accomplished at work today which is more than I can say for Monday in which I basically accomplished not falling and not falling further behind than I already was.

Now I can appreciate it a little bit more that I do not have a brain tumor.

Sometimes cops are really hard to like.

Here’s a brief rundown of last night:

7:30 ish….car breaks down on side of highway by Cedar Hill.

8:00 Brother-in-law gives wife ride home and he assures me that the car is far enough off to the side where we can wait until morning to tow it.

9:00  Police call wanting to know what my car is doing on the side of the highway.  I inform them it is broken and we will tow it in the morning.  I hang up the phone happy that all is settled.

9:05  Phone rings.  Police decide it cannot wait until morning it has to be towed now or it will be impounded and they have already called a local towing company.  They ask me where I want it towed.  I tell them the destination three times thinking they would probably screw it up so I kept repeating it until I was sure that even a semi-literate monkey could get it right.

Saturday a.m. I wake up, call the towing company to find out where they are based so I can pay them for the tow.  During the course of the conversation I find out our car is on the towing company’s lot and not at the auto garage.  Of course it is still broken so it will need to be towed again to where it was supposed to go in the first place.  Of course, I get to pay another towing fee.

Oh that’s not all dear readers….that car that had to be towed right at the moment last night according to the cops, ….the same cops who said they had already called the towing company….yeah, the towing guy didn’t get the call until midnight.  The car was such a danger to society that it sat there an additional three hours after the cops basically threatened to kidnap it to the impound lot if I didn’t take care of it A.S.A.P.

So thank to you officers who over reacted and managed to fuck up something my nine year old could have taken care of.  I will be thinking of you all week while I eat ramen noodles and macaroni and cheese because 3/4 of my grocery money for the week, just went into a double towing fee.

I understand you have a tough job, but what’s with the lies?  Get bent Officer Whoeverthefuckyouwere.  While you are at it, find some competency or maybe even call me up and apologize for the fact that you screwed up.  I don’t expect you to reach into your wallet and give me $75 for the second tow even though that’s what I would do if I had done this to someone else.  An apology would go a long way though.

UPDATE:  My family came through and via friends of friends, I got one towing fee taken care of.  The other towing fee will be partially covered by my insurance so not only do I not have to eat ramen all week, but I even splurged on a jar of Nutella for my kid.  This is what living on the edge looks like kids!  Come join me in the fast lane where my greatest joy of the week was baking banana bread and buying a chocolate hazelnut spread.   Now just cross your fingers that the car can be fixed and is not a one ton paper weight.

I reiterate: You are a dumbass.

I am not sure some of you out there get how facebook works.  I was once again notified by my boss about something that I said on facebook.  On facebook I say things that are PG-13 or R at best and never meant to be seen by children.  The below facebook commentary was brought into question:

Do u ever get that icky feelingwhen you buy something you really didn’t need?

January 3 at 4:01pm · Like · Comment

Amongst a bunch of other random comments offered on that status I said:

Wedge Harris I had such buyer’s remorse after purchasing that Thai hooker it was unreal. Might have had something to do with me pissing napalm for weeks afterwards, but still…I know what you mean.

January 3 at 8:17pm · Like ·  1 person

Most folks would understand that what I said was a joke.  A joke told by an adult to other adults.  For the record, I have never been to Thailand. Heaven forbid that I recognized another human who might suffer from the same nonsensical buyers remorse as I and then try to make him laugh.  Sorry about that.

First, know this, I will not spend one second of my life worrying about what some chicken shit anonymous letter says about me.  Not now.  Not ever.  I write this only because I enjoy calling out stupid people.  If you want to come talk to me face to face, we can hash out where our disagreement lies and I can regale you with wonderful stories about censorship and free speech and the hypocrisy of trying to tell me that I have to be politically correct even in my off hours.

If you want to send an anonymous letter to my boss about me saying something that amounts to a deer camp joke online while on my own time…then just know you are wasting your time because I do not “friend” students and my privacy settings on facebook only allow my facebook friends to see what I post.  If your kid is seeing my online content at fb it is because they are logging in under your account, dumbass.  That officially makes you responsible.

So if you are seeing what I type on facebook and printing it out and sending it to my boss, then you must be one of my fb friends and a very mean spirited, duplicitous human being who is guilty of being a far worse example to the youth of our community than I could ever be.   For more information on how I feel about that, please feel free to refer to this post:  previous post .

Apparently you don’t like me.  Apparently you don’t understand my humor.  That’s fine.  I can think of no worse fate than to be so politically correct that I never offend anyone.  That would mean I have no opinions and I feel passionate about nothing in this world.   If you don’t like me, I’m good with that.

If you are concerned about my behavior at work and in front of kids, I’m sure there are any numbers of ways to get that information from people who know me professionally…but you don’t want to know that do you?  You just want to rabble rouse.  So let’s not be friends.  Please un-friend me on facebook.  Don’t worry, I won’t get a notice telling me who has unfriended me so your cowardice should not get in the way.  We can then enjoy the rest of our separate lives….you content in thinking I am wrong and me knowing you are a fucknut.

Update:  Despite much anecdotal evidence that people that weren’t my friends on facebook couldn’t read what I post, after some testing it appears that they can.  I don’t think it changes my feelings on the matter one iota.  I am allowed to be an adult and have adult conversations and tell adult jokes online.  I am not dissing the school.  I am not making unprofessional remarks about my colleagues, school board, or parents.  I am not advertising my own porn site or advocating drug use.  So, despite an error on my part in who can and cannot see what I post, my opinion is still the same.  If you don’t want your kids reading adult material, it’s up to you to monitor their internet habits.  It is not up to me keep all my off hour, off duty discussions limited to Sesame Street, string theory, Snuggies, and gardening.  Thank you and have a nice day.

By request.

Since my last post about things I could care less about, someone recently asked me for a post about a few  things I do believe in.

 You people never learn.  If you keep encouraging me, I’ll just keep writing this dreck.  Amber, you have only yourself to blame for this.

I believe that Daniel and Henrik Sedin should quit cutting their hair and their beards in exactly the same manner.  When you are twins and you are six years old and your parents force you to dress alike it is understandable.  As two 30 year old professional hockey players it’s creepy.

I understand you each love your brother and can admire the fact that family is important to you as you refuse to play for separate teams, but that is where it has to end.  In other words, it is okay to love your brother, but it is not okay to “love” your brother.  Know what I mean?

You…me…hot tub after the game?   (http://tsn.ca/nhl/story/?id=348949)

I believe that the world will NOT end before 2013.  If anyone wants to bet me $1000 that the apocalypse is nigh, feel free to contact me through this blog.  I will accept any and all bets.

Well I don’t care if it is the apocalypse, that’s just rude.  (anmlhse.com)

I believe that once your 20-something son builds himself a clubhouse and a skull shrine in the back yard, it is past time to get him professional help. 

I know kids are difficult.  I know there are a series of challenges inherent in doing one’s best to rear them in the right manner.  Mom and Pop Loughner, I think this goes beyond finding a Penthouse under his mattress or worrying that he isn’t doing his chores.  Every single person the media interviews that was not a family member seems to have the same opinion of Loughner.  For brevity, I will summarize what all of his classmates, bosses, and acquaintances said about him:  “He’s crazier than a shithouse rat and he scares me.”

You cannot convince me he hadn’t done something so over the top weird or frightening before that point, that his parents had no idea his sanity boat was sinking fast.  He lived at home!  They HAD to catch him waxing hamsters to a stunning shine or taking a sewing needle to the eyes of houseflies or something else that would have rung the crazy alarm before he moved on to mass murder.

At some point it seems something should have been done before he went all full metal jacket on a bunch of innocent people.  I know…we’ll blame his teachers.  Fire all those bastards. Gotta be their fault.

Political aside:  Ever notice it’s never the democrats that go on shooting sprees?  I’m not blaming John Boehner for this one as Loughner was obviously three pancakes short of a full stack, but I will blame Glenn Beck whom is widely regarded as the Pied Piper of the politically insane.

I believe chocolate gets too much credit and butter pecan gets shortchanged in the pantheon of ice cream flavors.  Chocolate was okay when I was a kid, but as I have gotten older, I need something for my more sophisticated palate.  Chocolate ice cream is pretty one note stuff and is no longer as satisfying to me.  I feel an analogy is in order.  Chocolate ice cream is a handjob.  Butter pecan ice cream is the full on toe curling sex that follows a nice relaxing couple of drinks and a nice firm spanking.

I have suppressed the urge to draw two nipples.  I am proud of me. 


I believe that when I retire I want to purchase a large RV and turn it into a mobile saloon.  This is pretty rural country and the drinking and driving fines are no joke.  Although I have my doubts on how well the fines discourage drinking and driving, I do believe drinking and driving should be discouraged.  Taxis are expensive or not available at all in a lot of areas.  The solution:  have the bar come to your neighborhood where you could walk home afterward.  Better yet…if you tip me well, the bar itself will deliver you to your doorstep at the end of the night.

With this one we could even leave the RV on site and let someone else DD you home!

I don’t know if this interior would work. Don’t we need obligatory neon beer signs, some NASCAR ,shit and the heads of a few carcasses on the walls?  I could probably provide the faint urine smell myself.
(Both above images courtesy of:  most-expensive.net)