The Birth of the Cognitive Hellion

It was on this very night that I had my hellion epiphany. As you can tell by the plucky look on my face, MsHellion was about to be unleashed on an unsuspecting world of laughable clowns. I remember this Halloween so vivdly. I was freezing, despite being wrapped in flammable plastic, and I could see my Darth breath as I mimicked Lord Vader as well as a four-year-old girl can. I spent the evening ordering kids dressed as storm troopers to chase the kid dressed as Chewbacca. I wanted him alive and unharmed. It was on this night that I knew I could rise above my shithole of a town, that I would be a success, that I would never change a diaper, and that I would always vote. I had a job to do, and I would settle for nothing less than ruling the galaxy. Oh, and I got a lot of chocolate, too. Bonus!

Note: Later this same year, I told my mother I no longer needed her because I could read and tie my shoes. Luckily, she knows I am full of shit. Thanks, Mom!


Ruler amongst clowns. 

Contemplating the Divine

Even at the tender age of four, I was a deep thinker. Perhaps I am thinking about the unjust incarceration of such a majestic creature. Perhaps, I really really REALLY wanted that sno-cone. Mmmmmm, rainbow flavored.


Hmmmm. 

MsHellion Through the Ages

To blatantly rip off my dear friend, Mr. Cissy, I have decided to post a pictorial to prove that, unlike Mr. Cissy who was deceptively cute as a child, I have always displayed my MsHellion-esque tendencies.

You can tell by the way that I use my walk, I've been MsHellion since an early age, no time to talk.


MsHellion Strut 

Toby Keith Annoys the Rat Piss Outta Me

That's all.

A Tale of Two Shitties

The devil went down to Georgia and he took himself a shit.

As some of my peoples already know, my New Year’s Eve experience was a bit on the odd side with a healthy splash of disturbing. In fact, the oddity was so tenacious, it made its way into my New Year’s Day before I could escape the hell that is round on the ends and high in the middle (O-Hi-O.)

When the hubby and I awoke in the mid-afternoon gloom of January 1st, we decided to skedaddle as quickly as possible. Before we could leave, our hosts got up and insisted on taking us out for brunch. Being the suckers we are for free food, we relented and did go. They took us to a quaint little mom and pop greasy spoon that had all the fixings for soothing hung-over heads and regretful hearts. Chicken fried steak it is!

After this restorative repast, I needed to relieve myself of some of the coffee and toxins I had acquired over the past tumultuous 24 hours. After nearly scaring the waitress to death to ask where the potty is, apparently I move with cat-like stealth, I made my way to the back of the greasy spoon as directed. There, to my surprise, was a bathroom with one of the more confusing features I have yet to witness, and mind you, I’ve been to Europe and Southeastern Kentucky. The potty was a one-room deal with a locking door, no stalls and, get this, TWO TOILETS – side by side. I assure you, one of them was not a bidet.

Of course, my mind instantly starts racing, contemplating the possibilities for such an arrangement. Why spend the money to put two toilets in a one-room bathroom and provide no stalls? The only conclusion I could come up with is that it must be for the purpose of dueling. Yes, that’s right, dueling shits. Why else would you want to sit one foot away from another person on the can? Why would you want to be able to squat and look someone else straight in the eye? It must be so they can see your poker face. I can really find no other logical explanation for such a setup. Also, the toilet paper was quilted and peach colored, both holders. That is the true mark of a place for professional pleasure pooping. Of this, I am certain.

Kiss My Shiny Literary Arse

According to this little, poorly copy edited test, my dominant intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence. It says,"You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well. An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly. You are also good at remembering information and convicing someone of your point of view. A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary. You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator."

What's in your wallet?

Clamato: Disease or Shitty Car?

Well, it turns out to be neither, but it was one of the things I found myself pondering in good ol’ 2004. Here’s a few other things what passed through me noggin, as well as some joys and disappointments.

Does one night in Bangkok really make a hard man humble, or just more of a son of a bitch?

Why are there more righties than lefties?

How does Jerry Seinfeld get away with having such a shitty hairdo? New Yorkers need to force that man to represent. Also, I find the waist of his jeans to be alarmingly high, like old man pants.

Why am I so concerned with Jerry Seinfeld?

Do the different colors of M&Ms somehow, psychosomatically, make them taste the tiniest bit different from one another? Must research further.

Can you trust a man who hates Oreos? I think there’s a clause in the Patriot Act about it.

Now, for some Joys:

My friend had a baby. If you check her blog regularly, you might catch it on a day when she mentions him.

I went to San Francisco, New York, and Cancun this year. I am ready to wash, rinse, and repeat.

I kept a poinsettia alive ALL YEAR. It is still alive. Perhaps, it is immortal. Perhaps, it is THE HIGHLANDER.

Another pal o’ mine got fired. Normally, this would be bad news, but it was very restorative for her. Her mental state improved immediately. I do miss having her around, though.

I finished my Master’s degree. I feel like a somebody, now. A very, very, very in debt and underpaid somebody.

Disappointments? Sure, I had some.

My diploma from The New School. For as much as I paid and as hard as I worked, I think I deserve a diploma that doesn’t look as if it is fresh from someone’s deskjet printer. Oh yeah, and an actual human signature would have been swell, too.

The election. 'Nuff said.

The election. Obviously, I’m not over it.

My Dad flaked out again. Guess he’ll come back in another 15 years.

The election.

The war in Iraq.

Hopefully 2005 will bring tidings of great joy to me and all you peoples. Here’s to a good one, ya’ll!