Feng Shui: You’re Doing It Wrong

Now, I don’t know a whole lot about Feng Shui, but I’m thinkin’ this isn’t it:

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While driving the back roads through the Ozark Mountains (aka: the Ozark Indy 500) on my way to the lake house, I passed by the house in the picture above. Whoever owns this house spent a lot of time making this big ass lawn ornament out of…skulls. There may even be a human skull or two in there, I don’t know.

I started thinking about where I was and that maybe this was a warning for Outsiders rather than art and decided it was unwise to be sitting in front of the house with a camera.  The Hillbillies ’round here kinda have their own legal system going on.  So I quickly snapped this picture and hauled ass (lest I become part of what appears to be an ongoing collage).

Wycked

 

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Part Deux: Shit I Don’t Like

 

  • Non-handicapped people who park in handicapped spots just because it’s close to an ATM machine or because they are “just running into the store real quick.”  No one gives a shit as to your reason excuse.  If you’re not handicapped, just don’t do it!  Show some fucking respect, man!  How hard is this?

  • Short, scrawny, fugly lil white boys driving big honkin’ jacked up trucks who put a “No Fat Chicks” sticker on the rear window.  Seriously?  YOU have the nerve to discriminate like that??  LOLolololol………..dude.

  • Psycho-dialers.  If they didn’t answer the phone the first five fuckin’ times, just…seriously.  The fuck are you thinkin’?!?!

  • Hairless cats.  That shit’s just not natural, man.

  • Slow drivers who a.) drive in the inside / passing lane and b.) refuse to move their slow ass over.  It’s called the “passing” lane for a fuckin’ reason!  Dumbass.

  • People who allow their kids to run around like little heathens in a store, repeatedly call the kid’s name while the kid pretends he’s deaf, and then have the nerve to yell, “Joey, I’m warning you….one….two….”  Lady, just shuddup already.  Go snatch that little snot-nosed hooligan up, smack his ass once or twice, and drag him back over to where you were.  We all support you in this.  Really.

  • Men who drive through a parking lot, honk their horn when they see a girl and yell, “Hey gurl, com’ ‘ere!”  You, sir, are a lazy, disrespectful bastard.  I’d also lay down some serious jack betting  that you’re broke, shitty in bed, and living with your mama!

  • Desperate Women who actually walk their happy asses up to the car to talk to the lazy-assed man who just picked her up by sittin’ on his ass.  Sister, the fuck are you doing?!  You are not Papa John’s.  You do not deliver coochie!  Did your mama never teach you this?!

  • People who pick their nose while driving & flick the boogers out the window.  A.) That’s just gross.   B.) You make me wonder just how many of the bug corpses on my windshield are really bug corpses.  And I don’t like having to wonder about that.

  • Women who wear skimpy clothes into a store and then make comments to their friends about all the fugly guys looking at them.  Well, duh, bitches!!!

 ☿
Wycked

Those Pesky Details…

Since I am, like, the queen of weird-assed home remedies (that work), friends of mine often call me to tell me their aches and pains to see if I have any suggestions to help them.

One of these friends called me the other day.  After a bit of Q & A, it was determined she had a boil.  You would think the silly heifer would just go her doctor and get some antibiotics, right?  Oh, negative.  And why not? Well, the boil was on her ass.  Right, smack-dab, in the middle of one of the cheeks on her nicely rounded boo-tay.

My much-loved, silly heifer of a friend has a new doctor (whom she has dubbed dubbed Doctor Hawt-As-Hell).  She has issues with going to him and dropping trow to display the so not sexy boil on her ass.

So, cool.  I told her of a home remedy to cure the ass boil.  It wasn’t necessarily a holistic remedy, mind you, but it was a cure nonetheless.

Today, this same friend calls me while she’s at work in her highfalutin, ritzy office (where she makes a shit ton of money because she’s supposedly really smart…).  The convo goes like this:

Here’s her snickering & whispering like she stole some shit:  “Guess what?!”

“What?” I whisper back.

Still whispering, she proudly announces,I got a piece of HAM on my ass!”

Me?  I’m confused.  So I say,Oh-kayyyyy.  Why do you have a piece of ham on your ass?”

Acting like I’m the idiot with part of a deli sammich stuck to my ass, she says, “Ugh! The boil, silly! You told me–“

Rolling my eyes, I cut her off with,Dude. I said nothing about ham. I said bacon fat.  I said put salt on a piece of bacon fat and strap it to your ass with a band aid.  I said nothing of hamNor did I say wear that shit to work!”

After a brief pause for those in the conversation who have wandering minds and are terminally confused cause their ass never listens (!!!), here’s her, “Huh.  Salt?  I thought you said pepper. And ham and bacon are both pork, so I thought it’d work.”

“No,” I chuckle, “No ham.  You want bacon fatJust the fat; no meat!!! And I said SALT!”

“Oh.” She says.  Then we both start laughing.

After our giggling dies down I whisper, “Is your ass burning?”

She practically yells, “God, YES!!!!!”

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Sometimes, paying attention to those pesky details are important…

 

Wycked