The Daily Bitch

August 19, 1998 Vol. 3 Issue 3

Well, it's done. I'm finally into my new apartment, I mean "Townhouse." It's not much to look at and there ain't a lot of room in it for the shit I got to walk away with but it'll do for right now. That brings up an interesting point. I think I finally understand why divorces can be so much fun. See in my previous relationship (before the one that just ended) I really didn't have much to speak of. A computer, some clothes, TV and VCR. The furniture was garage sale second hand, so I didn't care what the X did with it. Now in my last relationship, we worked some real hard times and finally got a bit ahead in the world and WE (we as in me and her) decided to buy some furniture and other personal items. Now mind you we both worked hard for the money. Wait, that's not exactly true, come with me while we go back in history.....

Now when me and the latest X got hooked up there in Syracuse, things were really tough. I was still going to college earning that minimum wage. Whereas the X had just left her husband (yeah, you read that right - I could be blamed for breaking up an already bad marriage) and was in the process of filing for a divorce. Now she had a house with that soon to be X-husband that they sold eventually for about 100K which they split 50-50. Now the X's lawyer gave her the idea of investing in some property and he would pay her "interest" on the money. She decided to do it. So now she has a little extra coming in and along with mine, we are able to get a little stuff. After this "investment" started maturing a bit, the X decides we need a vehicle, so WE (we as in we both looked at the car - but she had the money) bought a car. It was a good little car and served our purposes real well (even better once the dealer replaced the transmission after it damn near dropped out of the car after about 10 days). Now I finish the college thing and can go get a "real" job that pays better. Well, I get one, sort of. It takes a little time since Syracuse is "small" when it comes to computer companies and I don't have the experience that the two big stores in town are looking for. So I have to aim a bit lower and take a job at a "mom & pop" shop doing the computer thing figuring this will at least establish my name in the area (what a joke that turned out to be). Anyway, everything "works out" and somehow I end up moving to Rochester and working for Kodak for money that I only once dreamed of. Mind you the whole time, I'm bringing in a constant trickle of cash, while we "burn" through the X's money buying things like a second computer, a better car (with payments), some furniture, and mind you were constantly upgrading our domicile as we could afford it. Always on the lookout for that "better" house or apartment. Finally the investment money ran out (yeah it was done - 50k or so gone in 2.5 years) but we had a lot to show for it. Now since the investment money is no longer coming in, it's up to me to find a better paying job so we can continue in the lifestyle we are living. This brings me to my job at EDS. This job brought me a pay raise large enough to cover the lack of the X's money that is no longer coming in and we lived like this for most of the last year together, with MY money (yeah, I said my money - after all, I'm working for it) paying the car payment, part of the rent, and the bills. I say part of the rent because the X had got a bad knee which gives her the ability to collect Social Security and not have to work. Which was fine by me since, she did all the house stuff and all I usually had to do was garbage, groceries and the dog. Ahh the "dogger", a black miniature toy poodle called Sambeau that we bought about three and a half years ago and he has been OUR baby. Uh oh, I'm getting pissed so allow me to bitch for a second: Now imagine this shit, you have raised this little animal for the past 3.5 years and he thinks the world of you. That's the way dogs are, they give you that undying love just to be touched and know that you care for them. See this shit really pisses me off to the point of fucking tears. That is much my animal as it hers, but I'm the bigger person (I'm assuming this) because I let her "have" the dog. I mean after all it was HER $300 that paid for him. After all, in the beginning I didn't even want the little shit, I thought it was a bad idea. So therefore it must be HER dog, right? Get this, you know who I miss more out of the last relationship? If you guessed the dogger then Sparky, go get your prize!

Ok, now where was I before I got all teary-eyed over missing my little buddy? Oh yeah, so anyway now that I have really fucked up by doing so many terrible things (don't ask me what I did, I'm still trying to figure it out) and the stress of my son coming back to live with us would surely drive her to edge of death, I know must get out and end this relationship. Now comes the fun time, dividing what is HERS and what is MINE. For starter's forget ALL and I do mean ALL of the furniture. Well except for those two lamps and that halogen post lamp, you can have those. Goody! At least I'll be able to stare at the bleak emptiness of my new place. You can have some towels and washcloths, BUT NONE OF THE GOOD STUFF. Now mind you WE bought all of this stuff together, but now that the end has come, realization that it was HER money allows HER to assume "bought with my money - must be mine." So, basically I get my son's bed ( a twin - imagine the fun I've had sleeping on that lately), and my personal possessions. Now I have the better computer then her, so that's my laugh on that subject. Luckily, my brother is moving in, and he is brining all his "stuff" and I shouldn't worry because he has some couches and a chair and everything we could possibly need to start out. Mind you this sounded great in theory, but needless to say once we got it moved in, my place now looks like every college apartment you have ever seen. Second hand couches, the brand new TV perched on a stolen milk crate, paper plates, plastic cups (you know, the kind the beer comes in at your favorite college bar), and over in the corner "Computer Central." This is where live revolves, around the computer, after all what is life if you can't surf?

So this is what it comes down to, how quickly the fun times buying all that special stuff, get tossed into the dumpster as we rip out the old chainsaw and yell "YOU WANT HALF, COME AND GET YOUR HALF!" while showing the world exactly what makes that Sealy Posturepedic mattress so damn comfortable. I guess that's the way life goes, live and fucking learn, right?

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

August 14, 1998 Vol. 3 Issue 2

Hey there readers! Long time - no Bitch! The day has finally come! It (referring to my relationship) is now over! Yes I'm moving into my own apartment and becoming the desperate bar-hopping, looking for love in all the wrong places, of course I've had a vasectomy, would I lie to you, single that I always wanted to be. Sounds fun eh? I myself cannot wait, since this gives me even more shit to rehash in this thing we call "The Bitch."

Speaking of bitches, have you ever looked back at your relationships and wondered, if just for a moment, if there is something you could have done differently? Perhaps you simply don't look back (works for me) and consider everything that went wrong, the "other" person's fault. I tell you it is amazing what you will see if you do. To me when I look back, which is something I do in the car all the time, usally with my middle finger up in the air commenting on another driver's lack of experience, it tends to look like one of those scenes from all the Vietnam movies you've ever seen. You know the scene, bodies strewn about, bare earth stripped of foiliage, people walking around in a daze. I'm not sure why it looks like that and I could give two shits about trying to figure it out. After all, if I put everything I had into a "relationship" and it still fails, how can it be my fault? I gave my 100% but apparently someone else didn't. So now another name gets added to the "X" list and all the good times gets promptly forgotten, well except for the sex - no one forgets the sex because you'll be comparing that to the next person that comes along, and the bad times become engraved upon a special wrinkle in your brain, that is set asided for that purpose. Yep, out of those little bits that are too good to forget is always, always the sex. That's how the next relationship starts out, with sex and LOTS of comparisons.

So now that we have come to the final decision that it is over, what happens now? Well, if it's a mutual thing, hopefully you (like me) get some time to find that new place and move in. If things go bad then you may have to start checking with your friends and hoping the bastards (or bitches) remembers all the things you've done for them (and you may have to remind them - guilt is great) and now it's time for a little payback. Of course, after that you're living on borrowed time, since you're buddy doesn't care when you move out, but his "boss" does. Now you will have to tread very lightly in these situations or you AND your buddy could end you in that new place by yourselves. Now as cool as this idea looks, you buddy may have worked awful hard to keep a "piece" around so he wouldn't have to run out and get "take-out" all the time. Let's move on.

Now I'm sure that we all have the horror stories of past relationship, not all of us have the balls to write about it. Well Sparky, guess what, I've got them and they're fucking huge. What's that you say? Does my most recent "X" read my web page? Yes, she certainly does. Will this piss her off or possibly offend her? I hope fucking so! After all, I'm a "spiteful, mean fuck" (those are her words). Am I worried about what she might do or say? Afraid she might "cut me off" from all the fun stuff? Well considering that happend over 3 months ago, nah, not worried at all. I mean I dedicated a section on the "Myself" web page to her. Of course I'll having to be updating that to finish up with what a bitch she has become. Simply amazing when you think about it, how fast we go from "I can't stand a moment without you in my life" to "I wish you would get run over my a bus and taste your own blood!" Love, it's an ugly thing when you think about what it does to us. No drug on earth can compare to the way it makes you feel while you're "on" it and nothing can stop the feelings when you get "off" of it. Fucking Cunt! Did I type that? Shit, I thought I was just thinking that. Come back in a day or two when I be writing about how "what was ours is now mine, so get you shit-scratchers off of it you bastard!" See you then!

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

August 4, 1998 Vol. 3 Issue 1

Well it seems my own decaying relationship has given me plenty to write about. Maybe there is a lesson here to be learned, something to carry over to the next, something that may help one of you readers gain insight into your relationship. This little episode could be called "Ways to know when to get the Fat Lady warmed up" or "It ain't over until you say it's over, honey." Yeah, ways to tell your relationship is headed for a break-up or is breaking up. Sometimes the clues are there, but you might have to go get Scooby Doo and the Gang to help you figure them out.

Let's start with the little things, like say SEX. She (or he since I'm and equal opportunity kind of Bitcher) has stopped doing some of those "special" things that they used to love to do but now find repugnant. This is usually a good clue that this other person is A) becoming celibate, B) cheating on you, or C) can't stand the way you grunt when you have your "moment." Now this could be a single thing or all of the above (I'd like to see that). Some other things that usually revolve around that could be the lack of a good "cuddle" afterwards or perhaps if they move to the furthest side of the bed to avoid touching you any more then they have to. Perhaps the only sex you're getting is when you tell the other person to "fuck off?" This could be the beginning of the end as you know it.

Some things you might have to listen for in order to catch the nuance of the moment. Like your s/o (significant other - for you non-chatters) ceases talking about any future plans you might have made together. They might also start using more "I's" and "me's" in their sentences. Another indicator is now that stuff that used to be OURS is now YOURS and MINE. Financial records can also start coming under scrutiny, since the other person will no longer be depending on your earnings to co-exist with theirs.

A good tell tale sign, is that you come home and find YOUR shit out on the porch or lawn. It may or may not be boxed and depending on the situation, it might have been burning for a bit before you arrived on the scene. This is always a good sign that the relationship may be over and that there will not be any "making up" or "reconciling differences" going on after this. In fact, if you're lucky the police and/or fire department may show up depending on the size of the blaze.

Sometimes, things get "iffy" and you're not sure what's going on. You may have to dig a little deeper or listen a bit harder to find out the truth. For instance, is your s/o getting nasty with you? You know, those little verbal dart, those light spoken jabs, instead of being cute, do they hit a little too far below the beltline? Did they change or alter their appearance suddenly, much to your dismay? Have you found your conversations changing from "what would you do if I died" to "I wish you would die?" Or maybe they start wondering OUT LOUD what life would like without you in it.

In some cases it may be obvious, such as you find him/her standing over you wearing nothing but a hockey mask and holding a chainsaw. This could mean you have slipped into a bad "B" grade slasher flick or s/o wants you out of their life in the real bad way. Maybe they brought a date home and started necking on the couch BEFORE you moved out.

These are just a few things. If you have some to add, feel free to drop me a line at arcrego@frontiernet.net and let me know what some of the signs that you've seen. Now it's time for me to go oil the chainsaw and find that hockey mask.

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

July 31, 1998 Vol. 2 Issue 6

Being a veteran of the "I fell in love online" crowd, I have to say that honesty is a something that tends to get laid by the wayside when you're swept up in the romance. I see it as this "thing" that you have now is so great, so cool, so simply awesome, that nothing can get into the way. One thing usually does and it's called the truth. An ugly thing that tends to hurt so many people that it should classified a deadly weapon. Oh see you can lie at first, and try to get away with it, but unless you are extremely lucky, you will get caught. You always do, which is my case in point. Probably the whole reason my relationship is/has/or going to fail. See if you are not up front with your online lover AND they actually believe all that shit you told them AND they want to come be with the wonderful person that you have made yourself to be, then before they ever leave their front door heading to your house, you had better fess up to what you've done. This can be a hard thing to do, but sometimes the truth (the bastard it is) must be told. Like you don't make 80k a year and own your own house and drive a Dodge Stealth, you have to be "truthful" and explain to that person that you really work at Burger King and you rent an apartment and drive a 78 Ford Pinto that you're still making payments on. Now if this person gets mad and never talks to you again, then you deserved what you got, you lying bastard / bitch! On the other hand if this person tells you that they love you no matter what, then you have to worry whether it's "true love" or a mental case suffering some sort of psychotic breakdown. Let's move on to another important item: courage.

I say courage, because sometimes it's better to believe (in your mind) what a person looks like. Usually when you see the actual photo, it's a letdown. Not always but most of the time. Could also be that I'm embarrassed about the way I think I look. You know, that whole "3 people" concept? First person is the way people see you, the second person is the way you think people see you, and the third is the way you actually are. I think I read that in a psychology book somewhere. I know there is some sort of scientific term for it, but I don't know. What it all comes down to is that when you fall in love online you are falling in love with some font on a screen. The way a person types, the way a person expresses themselves, that's what you are falling for. This can be a problem since so many people can be total bullshit artists. You find yourself thinking "man, this person is just like me, knows what I'm thinking and everything, I must have found my soulmate." Now before you go much further, you must do one important thing: get a picture. Actually get alot of pictures, a picture of the person at their job, in front of their car. Make sure you get a close-up of your new "soulmate." Sometimes the truth (see above) will tend to come out then. Then before committing to that final act, make sure to try and met them in real life somewhere. This tends to bring out more of the truth. What that you say? You soulmate lives 1500 miles away? Ahh, that fickle feeling, love. Try and find a soulmate closer to home in that case. Unless of course your new soulmate does make oodles of cash, then they would have no problem flying you out to see them. Spend a weekend with them, get close, eat dinner, have that wild sex you have been talking about online. All of these things will show you more of your perspective soulmate's personality and you may find things that make them a little less attractive then you originally thought. You may just go home after a long weekend thinking "Whew! Maybe my soulmate is still out there."

You know, typing that gave me a flash of insight to myself. I have yet to find a person that I care about that I didn't want to try to impress. Maybe that is the type of person that will bring me the happiness that I want (need?) in my life. Is that what I'm looking for? Maybe that's what I'm looking for (and almost found with my current girlfriend/fiancée - soon to be X-all of the above), someone who would love me for just me. Uh oh, I'm depressing myself again, I need professional help for sure. My mind starts racing and I start thinking weird thoughts again (don't ask). One of the things that is really important to me is this: I want to get married someday. I have been in 2 fairly long relationships and have got no further then popping the question and giving away an engagement ring. After that point it seems to spin out and head down hill (maybe someday I'll figure out what I did wrong - maybe I have and just don't want to admit it). Am I a freak of MALE nature? Rather then fear it, instead I want a commitment? Yep, get me a sign and point at the guy behind that keyboard and yell FREAK! HE"S A TOTAL FRUIT! You get the idea, I consider myself a "new age sensitive kind of guy." You know, the ones who aren't afraid to cry during a movie or willing to listen to a woman's problem without thinking of how you use it to get into her pants (yes, some guys do that - sorry fellows, but I thought that secret should come out). Yes, some people call it being effeminate or a fag (I dare anyone to say that to me). Now that I realize it, I have become such a hypocrite. I think the idea of worshipping supermodels because they "embody" the perfect woman is wrong. What do I do? I enroll in the gym so I can alter my appearance to please others. All this in the hope that they will overcome their superficialness and look at me with desire in their eyes? I know it in my heart, I know that I'm dieting and working out not to get healthy, but to get laid. It's as simple as that or is it? Is that what I want? After all the talk of big brains vs. big hooters, I become as bad as the rest of humanity? I could care less, I have to go work out. BEEFCAKE!!!!

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

July 27, 1998 Vol. 2 Issue 5

Yep, that's right. This is turning out to be quite the little job. I thought I would be able to do a "bitch session" at least 2 or 3 times a week, but NO! I have to work and man is the work coming on strong. I go to class for a couple of days and everyone decides they need some sort of computer work done. One word for that - PRICKS! No not really, they are doing their jobs and I'm doing mine. Sometimes those jobs can really get you down though, can't they? I mean, you slam your ass from desk to desk fixing what each person considers their "class 1 priority level problem" when you consider it some nit-picky little shit that could've waited a couple of hours while you did some "real" priority work. Even though I think some of my customers are a pain, they think I'm (well 95%) think I'm the cat's meow. I decided to be a very proactive kind of guy at my location. I tell all the customers: "If I'm not at my desk to take your phone call, look around, I'm probobly in your area." This makes that 95% really happy, because they know I'm looking out for them. It's that other 5% that pisses me off. Those are the customers that expect you to drop what your doing and come RIGHT NOW. I could be on the phone talking to tech support, and they will wait, expecting me to either come now or as soon as I'm off the phone. For these people I have developed the "Call the Helpline" attitude. This attitude is one of my own creation, after all, if you're planning to piss me off by making my job hard then I'm exacting my measure of revenge by making you "use the system like it's supposed to be used." That means, call the helpline, get a work order, make sure they send it directly to me (in some cases I let the helpline screw with them for a bit) and then I come work on your machine. Ahh, sometimes it feels sooooo good!

I know, I can be a cruel son of a bitch, but hey, I expect nothing less from anyone else. My favorite place to go and bitch? McDonalds. Not any of the others, they don't brag about how good they are like old Micky D's does. So when I go to the Golden Arches, I expect to get the "crack" service that I'm shown on TV. Let me tell you, I am quite the bastard about this. My shit had better look just as good as the commercial (at least close) or I send it right back. To say that my Mickey D's around the corner hates me, would be an understatement. One thing to remember though, if you're going to be a bastard about your service, learn to be patient. That's because sometimes the perfection you're looking for may take a bit to achieve. The other thing you want to practice is your "smirk of injustice." The S.O.I. is the look to have. This look is a cross between a smile, a smirk, and that self-righteous indignant look you give someone when thier wrong and won't admit it. Now most of the time, this will a pay off nicely with many apologies and occassionally a free goodie or two thrown in. The only time it tends not to work is when you go to a McDonalds that is "lost in time." This is a store where the cumulative IQ can be measured in double digits, below 50 that is. You will not win in these places, for the simple fact that most of the people that work thier ARE DUMB AS SPIT! For instance, being the "healthy" (see the Bitch about Physical Fitness) human you are, you get that combo SUPER-SIZED. When you pull the fries from the bag, it looks more like they dumped a medium portion into your SS container. Most stores you simply ask for another, or if you're me, you let them decide (trust me, it's lots of fun - but then again, I have no life to speak of). This will be your first mistake, since this cause them to drop into some sort of looped logic lock state. This can be recognized by the blank look and/or glazed unblinking eyes. You must quickly snap them out of this or else they will be like this for what can seem an eternity (visit the Marathon, NY store for more details). No amount of SOI or sarcasm will help you, you must simply move straight to demanding what you want or asking for the manager. The latter will always work better since the manager always seems to be terminally pissed and is usally looking to hand one of the employess a ration of shit for upsetting a customer. I could go into that whole manager thing, but I won't because we all know his problem. If you don't know his problem, go apply for a job at your local fast food place, you'll learn real quick. So anyway, now you have your food, it's somewhat close to hot (at least the center is - thanks Mr. Microwave), so enjoy. Hmm all this talk of food has made hungry, I think if I hurry I can catch the manager before he leaves! Have fun kiddies!

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

July20, 1998 Vol. 2 Issue 4

Ok, so I been away for a few days. Yeah I know I'm supposed to update this thing once in awhile. Fuck off, I have a life too. If yours is anything like mine, it probably sucks too. So have you ever been in a relationship? I'm in one right now, at least I'm supposed to be, but it sure doesn't feel like it. See there is a basic problem in the way males and females look at this whole relationship thing. Guys tend to see it as easy sex on a semi-regular basis. Gals tend to see it as a "commitment" with it being the first step to marriage - the ULTIMATE relationship. Now sometimes it takes us a few times (maybe longer for the slower of us) to get this relation thing right. Now by right I mean with the right person, in the right place, in the right situation. Oh sure, you can be in a relationship with almost anyone at anytime, but the fun part is making it work. Now in any relationship the most important thing to have is communication. Because (you gals pay close attention here) guys do not read minds nor do we read body language very well. Well maybe a select few, but most of can not. Now if you expect things from your guy (or gal) you must TELL THIS PERSON, not play head-fuck games with them. When you do that, your s/o (significant other i.e. boyfriend) may end up with hurt feelings. See, maybe I get confused, but I must be in the wrong kind of relationship, this is why my life sucks. See, I try to do right all the time, but occassionally I fuck up (don't we all?). Now my s/o tends to clam up and shut off the old voice box. This is where the guessing games tends to start and I have to figure out exactly what I did wrong. To me it would seem eaiser if we acted like adults and just said what was on our minds. No, for some reason we do this to our kids (when or if you have them) but not to each other. For some reason, when we get pissed, we tend to pout and sulk. Now WTF does this prove? Does it advance anything? Does it resolve the hurt feelings or make it go away? No, the other person gets mad and the next thing you know, the arguement starts. Now in this arguement, two people who love each other dearly, will attempt to say the meanest thing possible in an all out "get even" effort. Sometimes that brings about the end of a relationship. Other cases (especially mine), actions tend to get mis-construed and then feelings that are already hurt, get hurt even more. I know one thing for sure, Monks have the right idea: vow of silence and a vow of chasity. Keep your mouth and your fly shut and you'll have no problems. When's the last time you heard of a monk grabbing a butcher knife and going on a three state killing spree? See? I'm right about this. Maybe that's what I'll do, start my monastary and train monks. I could call them "The Brothers of Saint Silicon Microsoft" or some such shit like that. Hide in my room, keep my mouth shut and surf my life away. As for that sex thing....I'd have to work at that.

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

July 7, 1998 Vol. 2 Issue 3

The health craze in this country is not for people in their right mind. I mean I have seen more money change hands to change a lifestyle then I have seen to buy cars. What is this country coming to? For some reason now the gov. has gotten involved by saying that more people are obese then ever before. Is this a suprise in the age of the "super-size combo?" I mean everywhere you look, the fast food joints are practically giving away food to get you into you their stores. The people are more then happy, for a mere 40 cents you can have 25% more food. Such a freaking deal! How can you pass it up?! Then there is the health food stores, why do all the people working there look they have one foot in the grave? If health food is so good, why do they look so bad? They are just as bad, some of these vegatarians. They have ways of making you quit eating meat by scaring you with all these little tidbits of nasty meat knowledge. They won't hesitate to tell you how chickens are slaughtered, from the moment they pick them off the ground to the point where the beaks and heads are ground up into different types of animal feed including CHICKEN FEED! And you know how many different chemicals there are in a piece of Beef. Yep, I've heard it all before and I'm sure I'll here it all again. When you look at the food they are promoting like TOFU. Just what the scrog is tofu? Bean curd? I know that cottage cheese has curds and you can make cheese curds, but how can a bean make a curd? Then there is the appearance. A square white block of jello. Can you say soylent green boys and girls? I knew you could. I have seen some of the ways that you can change tofu and disguise it into burgers, meatballs and other goodies. Some of these companies have done wonders with making that little block actually edible, and if you can forget it's tofu, you can enjoy it. I heard that tofu is the second most hated food in the United States. Go figure, it's so good for you!

So now, it's not that you should look like Arnold or Julia, but you should get yourself in shape. How come when I go to the gym, all I see is T-rex's (that a muscle -bound freaks, to you and me Sparky) and skinny little women? Speaking of T-rex's, what drives someone to put on that much muscle? Competition? That is an athelete? I'm sorry, poeple like Emmit Smith and Carl Sanders are athletes. I can see where they use those types of muscles and why they have them. Call me stupid, but I don't get it. I can see being built, you know, enough muscle to be considered strong. Not to where I can flex and show you every single muscle in the deltoid group. That's kind of scary. I mean I'll stand in awe looking at the guy and wish I was like that, but I want no part of the time investment. When I get to the gym where are the poeple that should be there? Maybe someone should open a gym aimed specifically at that "big" person out there. Maybe that's why alot of people don't go. All fat (yeah I'm talking about you) are very self concious and for as many as that would go and start trying to do something there are just as many who are lazy and don't care. So how can you expect them to go to these places and fear that everyone is staring and thinking "man that dude / lady is huge!" So they stay home and continue on their path of self-destruction. I actually like (I hate to say this) Richard Simmons, for the simple fact HE is the only skinny person on his tapes. He was once that size and knows what these people are thinking. It's not that way in the infomercials for the "thighmaster", "Buns of Steel", "Abs of Steel", you name it. Then take a look at the people hawking this junk. Do they look like they need it? You know full well they did not use JUST this "wonder" to achieve those results, but we are supposed to believe it. Why is this? We (as I'm one of those larger people) posses a great deal of buying power in this country. There should be a "fat revolution" where super models should be banned instead of worshipped. Those whores sold their soul to some demon of hunger to get those bodies and we follow right along wishing we were like that. We are made to feel ashamed and sinful for being our size, and being the sheep we are, we buy the whole lot. Super Size that for me would you? And make that a diet coke too.....

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

July 4, 1998 Vol. 2 Issue 2

Well, Independence day is here. Hmm, a perfect opportunity if there ever was one. Maybe it's time for another Civil War. Civil War, that's an oxymoron if ever I heard one. How can war be civil? Can you be civil during a war? Who really gives a shit? I most certainly don't. What I do give a shit about is the sorry state that our government is in. If you walk up to people and say you work for the IRS, you will find yourself shunned quicker then if you had AIDS and Leprosy at the same time. Before anyone writes me and bitches about AIDS and the victims, stop their and FUCK OFF! It's a terrible disease and I know it, no one I know has died of it yet, but I went through the scare back in the late 80's since I had 3 blood transfusions during 3 separate hip surgeries. I gave several pints of blood over the next 7 years just to get the free HIV test. The seven years passed and now I feel better. Anyone who knowing transmits this terrible plague should be shot. Ok? Anyway, back to the IRS. Can you name any other government institution that is feared more by the citizens that support it? Which are you more afraid of? The FBI tapping your computer or the IRS letting you know they want to audit you? Ever heard of anyone having a heart attack when their in the Social Security office having paperwork checked out? Me neither. I'm glad that some people have finally got their shit together up on Capitol Hill and decided to shine some light on their practices. Although some of the stories that have come out of the employees (of course they are granted immunity) are really scary. Did you know that they still use terminals and magnetic tape in there? Congress has got their act together and there will be a new tax code written by 2002. Hmm I wonder how bad that one will fuck the average man? I recently got a new job that pays considerably more then my last. Guess what? I now get more taxes taken out of my check. I'm not talking about the FICA thing, I know what that is about. I just hope it's there when I need it. I'm talking about the federal tax and the state tax. I figure I lose almost $250 from every check. That much is with taking 5 deductions, that's 2 more then I am "entitled" to. I cannot figure out how this shit fucking works! All I know is that the more I make, the more I get taxed. I really understand what those Freeman and Militias are bitching about. TAXES. It comes down to this, we as Americans pay some of the highest rent in the world on our country. How do they do it in Europe, better yet, Japan? I think if more people realized this, this country would see another Civil War. A war on taxes, a war on something we can't understand without the help of a $200 an hour TAX attorney. Go figure this: some fuck has gone to school to learn how the Gov. screws you out of money and charges you what ever he feels to help you get some of it back. If he fucks it up, does he go to jail, nope, you do. Fuck you very much Uncle Sam.

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

July 1, 1998 Vol. 2 Issue 1

This has been bothering me all week so I'll get it off my chest now. Last weekend I decided to spend time with both my Dad and my son. I figure the old man would be delighted to see me and spend some time with his grandson so off I go to "Hicktown, USA" with my son in tow. Now when we get there, and fight our way past the flea-ridden hoarde of dogs awaiting anyones arrival, my Dad announces proudly that we are going to the "Hicktown Field Days!" Now I realize that most of you readers might not be familiar with the concept of a field days type event. The basic idea is this: the local volunteer fired dept. needs some cash to fill the coffers (since wednesday night bingo just don't cut it sometimes) in order to pay for maintainence of the fire equipment in case they have to go put out a burning cellar. A burning cellar? Yeah, see most of these firehouses are centrally located, the volunteer fireman are not. So by the time Jim-Bob calls 911 (if they have it) and 911 routes the call to the right firehouse, someone at the firehouse sets off the pagers that all the volunteers have, then the volunteers have to beg their bosses (those of them that work) to go to the fire, and then drive (well say 8 minutes to be fair), blue lights blazing, to get to the firehouse, put on their gear, fight over who drives the truck (no lie - I seen this with my own eyes), and drive to the fire, well you get the idea. Most of their mottos run along the lines of "We never lose a cellar!" But then again, I digress. Now the way the fire dept works this, is first they get bids from different ride companies to bring in the basic entertainment (games of chance, ferris wheel, all that shit) and then the "Women's Auxilary" (and I use the term loosely) does the rest like food and what not. Now this is where the real fun comes in, for folks like you and me that end up at these things by accident or design, is watching the wierdos we call humanity, literally crawl out of the woodwork. In all of my years (only about 30 and I was raised in a small Oklahoma town, so I think I can call this one), I have never seen such a collection of FREAKS. It's like a Jeff Foxworthy comedy show, except it's a nightmare and your on LSD. I cannot think of any other explanation that it MUST be something in the water or one too many brother-sister "intimate" relationships (if you know what I mean). This one bitch went strolling by me, had to tip the scales at around 350 easy, in the loudest collection of stretch polyester and a tube top WITHOUT A BRA. She obviously mistook my stare of awe for one of enchantment, because she smiled at me and thats when I got my second shock: 3 FUCKING TEETH. How do I know? Well besides the fact that the moment is burned into my brain, she smiled in that special way that would allow a normal person to say hi, if they weren't being drowned out by the contry-western music blaring over the speaker. The second thing you notice is the kids. They are like little clones of The only thing that makes these events worthwhile is BEER. Lots of it and it all very cheap. Oh I don't mean cheap and nasty, I mean like your favorite beer companies fall all over themselves to sponser part of these events so the beer definatley flows fast and hard. Even better is that if your like me, you won't need a lot of cash to have fun. Put the kids on a ride, drink yourself to a stupor, vomit once or twice and you won't believe how attractive that tube top beauty will look at around 1 am.

Don't think for a minute that what your thinking happened. I have never been that drunk or that stoned (I mean if I was to get stoned) to take leave of my senses. If you have ever been to one of these, let me know about your experience at artcrego at gmail dot com.

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

June 28, 1998 Vol. 1 Issue 3

So I go to the store for some groceries like I do at least once or twice a week. I decide that since I don't want to cook, I'll pick something up from the "deli" counter. Now the deli counter covers it all, from sliced meats to subs, wings, and pizza. Pizza sounds good, so I stroll the pizza counter and browse the selections. Now being the impatient (and occasionally not too picky) prick that I am, I ask the "clerk" standing there how much for that (point at a large slice pie with one slice gone) pizza. The clerk counts (literally, by moving his little finger in a circle) and tells me it would be $14 ( 7 slices x 1.99 per). I point out to him that a large only cost $11.50 and that we can simply add a slice from another pie and call it a "whole." This stumps the worker, so I basically reason it out to him that I do not feel like waiting the 15 minutes that it will take him to duplicate his efforts that are on display. Now with my explanation in hand (or in head) he turns and explains the situation to what I assume is the "senior" clerk on the scene. Now the senior clerk comes forward to tell me that "he" cannot do this, because if he did then he would have no slices to sell to the other customers that my want that type of slice while another is baking. So once again I try the reasoning approach by telling him that if the slices were not there, then no one would desire that particular type of slice. Good point, but let's look at from the business end of things, he would rather lose the full $11.50 then lose the possible $14.00 he could make if any of the customers in line behind me wants a slice of this pizza. They both stare at me for a few seconds digesting this lesson until the "less-senior" clerks speaks up stating the obvious "Uh there are no customers behind you." "My point exactly, so now can I have the pizza for $11.50?" I reply. Now he makes the mistake of telling me that I could not possibly know this for sure, since I could not know that there won't be any customers within the 15 minute period that it will take to replace that pizza, but he will more then happily sell me all the remaining slices for $14.00. I'm totally pissed now, I wanted that mouth-watering pizza, but this minimum-wage earning fuck has totally screwed up my dinner over a measly $2.50. So once again I ask why he'll sell me all the slices for that $14 when it will leave him sliceless in the same manner as not selling it to me for $11.50. He tells me that that is the way he is supposed to do it. Ahh now it is perfectly clear, so in my loudest voice possible without actually screaming (which is very loud considering I had an ex-drill sergent for a grandfather) "So what you're saying that it is the policy of SuperMart (name changed of course - but it's a large chain of stores in the Rochester, NY area) to cheat their customers?" They both look at me in shock, and someone calls the manager over, since now I have drawn a small crowd to watch our little verbal repartee'. After the manager confers with the clerks, he gives me the pizza for $11.50 and sends the clerks on their breaks. The manager walks me to the cash register apologizing profusely for the "misunderstanding" and hopes that I will continue my patronage in the future. After much assurance and a handshake I pay and leave the store carrying my 7 slice semi-cold pizza.

In retrospect, I figure this whole exchange took about 15 minutes - If I was to admit defeat I could have had a hot steaming pie, but I guess that would have been letting it go a little to easy. Maybe I have issues that I should get help with? Nahhhh.....fuck 'em!

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

The Daily Bitch

June 26, 1998 Vol. 1 Issue 2

Terminally happy people piss me off. I mean what is that you are doing that makes you so fucking happy? If it’s a drug then give me some; if it’s some good news, well then share that too. I just want to know what makes a person so fucking jolly they walk around with a glazed look and that sappy smile. They always have something nice to say to you when you bump into them in the hall. WTF is up with that? Maybe the glazed look and frozen expression is an indicator of something. Maybe something like Alzheimer's or some other new brain problem. Senility can be an ugly thing, but would come in handy in getting out of other things. Like I bet you don't ask Grandma Jones to remind you of the big interview you have at 1:00 tomorrow. I'm sure Grammie would like to remember that for you, but her terminal smile lets you know she back reliving one the best times of her past life. All I want is for one time to say what is on my mind as that person walks by and says "Good Morning! How are you doing today?" I have to almost physically repress the urge to just turn and look at this person and say "Eat shit and bark at the moon! It must be nice to be lost in your fucking head! Is there anyone in there today? Any little voices singing to you? I'm doing the same as yesterday only 24 hours later! It's also 7 fucking AM in the morning, do I look like I'm glad to be here?" There is a hell for people like me that holler at mental deficients like this person. Instead I crack a smile and joke right along, "Well my hemorrhoids have been acting up since I got the trots from that Mexican food last night." I know this person will smile in that little way and maybe even giggle a little for me. I know they don't have a clue and they could care less. Oh well, I guess it's just me.

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."

Come back tomorrow for another exciting session of "The Daily Bitch." See you then.

The Daily Bitch

June 25, 1998 Vol. 1 Issue 1

Welcome to the premier first issue of "The Daily Bitch!" I know this isn’t much, but we all start someplace. The "Bitch" is an idea I kind of borrowed from another web site. On that web site, as I will here, the author basically writes up what’s on his mind. What a concept, right? As I see it, I don’t want people to stop by and think. Think? That’s a real weird idea. Why would you want me to think? I’ll tell you why! Because stupidity is not reserved for the slow-witted anymore. ANYONE can be stupid at anytime! I’m not talking about accidental stupidity, because we all have our moments. I’m talking about the retards who poplulate most of the freaking earth! Know why? Because stupidity breeds faster than intelligence and believe me the morons are breeding like rabbits. Know why? Because "smarts" don't come from watching Baywatch (although good boners do) or Wheel of Fortune. You have to APPLY yourself to get smart, you have to want to be better then the average idiot. If someone is reading your website then be glad, because these are obviously people looking for some enlightenment in an otherwise dark world of feeble-mindedness. Stupid people run the world. Look at politicians - they are idiots put in office by people who believe what they say. All politicians lie! No - not Sen. John Dummy he said he is for the people. YEAH for the people paying more taxes in order to give him more money in his next raise.

Show me a smart person in power and I'll show you 10 idiots who will kill him for a dollar. Bill Gates is a prime example of a smart person in power and idiots trying to get rid of him. He KNOWS THE SECRET! What is the secret? PEOPLE ARE SHEEP! They are dumb and slow and Bill is the shepherd with the high boots and the tube of KY jelly walking your way! Unless you are lucky (and I'm assuming this) to have gotten enough knowledge from school to make you one of the more intelligent of the witless millions roaming the web, then you’re one of the stupid people who ended up here looking for some quick amusement. If that is the case, then LEAVE NOW! This is not a page for the cluless, witless, brainless, insensate, or fatuous. If people give you an opionion and you keep it as your own, then your are in the wrong fucking place! I only want people who think about what life it and how sometimes it sucks, because those people are my fellow humans.

I’m done for today. Consider yourself "Bitched at."