New Years Eve

I have this friend who every year tries to get us to write all of our problems on little pieces of paper so we can burn them.

A year ago, I didn't have any problems (except for that one lie that my husband told all those years ago, that I had learned to live with) and the credit card debt. So I don't even think that I burned any little pieces of paper. And I think my New Year's resolution was something like I was going to quit worrying about the debt and quit bothering my husband about it, cause he'll have to grow up and pay it off eventually. Maybe just giving the man some space would help.

A lot of good that did.

So I did not burn any little pieces of paper this year either. The only thing I want to burn is a certain person who doesn't even live in this country. Burning little pieces of paper is no fun. Can't even burn a Barbie doll that is supposed to be her, cause they don't make fat-ass slut Barbie dolls.

Speaking of cows....

Well the evening the evening wasn't a total loss. Someone told us a story about a childhood buddy and a cow. Not that kind of cow. The kind of cow that lives on a dairy farm until they get made into hamburger. The useful kind of cow. Perhaps the more intelligent kind of cow.
Anyway, the buddy got drunk and decided that since he wasn't getting enough from the local girls he'd try it with the cow. And hearing no objections from anyone else present, he unzipped his pants and proceeded to f*** the cow. And the cow proceeded to shit in the guy's pants.

If only the other kind of cow had done anything that nice.