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Best P.M.S. Cure of 2009 (thus far…)!!!

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter on February 19, 2009 – 6:31 am

No, Fallen Uterus (in the unimaginably horrific chance that she ever sneaks in here, fates forfend), I’M STILL NOT “PERI-MENOPAUSAL,” I’m still as damnably, stupidly “fertile” as I’ve ever been, damn the bigots & breed-mongers @ Medicaid & Medicare who don’t deem a partial hysterectomy as “medically necessary” ALL TO HELL.

Anyway, just because I’m becoming every bit the translucent WEREWOLF (not vampire, duh) that the F.U. is (my face is now covered with semi-invisible translucent fur — pet me, I’m a fucking TRIBBLE!!!; with the German-peasant-stock advancing forehead of teh Dick’s mother’s side, eventually I’ll look like a prettier Rod Blagoyjavech…Blagoyavich…aw, fuckit… ROD TEH KNOB *sigh*), does not change the fact that I still am at the mercy of my cunt every 3 to 6 weeks, which is just as much a fucking THRILL to those who closely know & somewhat love me, have no doubt. My uterus came from a bad home, was poorly raised and severely neglected, in ever sense of the word, and I’ve been trying to find somebody to adopt IT since I was 15 years old, and they still won’t let me donate it to science!

And thusly, as the wiser parts of my body forcibly evict the little parasite-wannabe ovum from my loins (no worry of conception, unless you believe fairytales about “immaculate” ones…), it takes a LOT to keep me from becoming the serial/spree killer to which I’ve always aspired: a carton (at the very least!) of Misty 120 Light Menthols, chocolate, salty junk food (haven’t been able to enjoy FRIED food, especially seafood, since they took my gallbladder in ’02, the bastids), lots of loud music, and new and inventive dessert concepts. Not often anymore that I create something worth sharing with y’all, but this one, this one was a FOODGASM, and the best part is, in our broker-than-fuck hell-days in the bottom of the fucking food chain, it’s easily made FOR CHEAP!!! Also, as I’m down to my last $14 for the month, if anybody could throw a dime or two my way in PAYPAL, I’d be most appreciative and may be able to send you a real thank-you card!

Here’s the “recipe”: Whatever sized serving that you enjoy of cheap strawberry (store brand, generic, whatever) ice cream, and if you can get your hands on that MOST precious produce commodity on the planet, LOUISIANA STRAWBERRIES (Ponchatoula berries are the best, though the ones from Klanfuck Central, aka Livingston Parish, can rival the ones of Tangipahoa & surrounding parishes), and THE most savory cookie ever made on this planet, ANNA’S OF SWEDEN Ginger Thins.* (I also highly recommend their Almond Cinnamon Thins, and ever-weirder as she ages, BIDDY FUCKING WORSHIPS those almond/cinnamon crisps!!! She loves ANY kind of junk food, but she DEMANDS to share in those!!! I only give her half of one at a time, but she savors every bite of it!) Also, in order to season to taste, cinnamon & cinnamon-sugar, Nestle’ Quik Strawberry Milk powder, with or without whipped cream (I’m way the fuck outta whipped cream, which is a fucking TRAGEDY. Not a Rwanda tragedy, a hormonal tragedy, dammit.).

You can soften the ice cream and construct individual ice cream sammiches, with the strawberries sliced and added to the inside of the sammich, and then roll the edges in the cinnamon-sugar, or you can go good and sloppy (which is how the BEST foods always turn out!) and just serve-up the ice cream in a bowl, top it with cinnamon-sugar & Quik Strawberry powder, and top with nuts, more berries, marshmallows, or whipped cream, whatever suits your fancy. If you’re REALLY adventurous, add some ground ginger, a light dusting of it, atop the final configuration, and your taste buds will love you FOR-FUCKING-EVER. FOOOOOOOOD-GASM!!!!!!

No, I’m not stoned, I can’t have weed (for TEN MOTHERFUCKING YEEEEEARRRRRSS!!!), I can’t drink (FUCK YOU ALL TO DEATH, YOU EVIL PENCIL-NECKED GEEKS OF THE FDA, DEA AND THE PHARMA CONGLOMERATES WHO ADDED “ANABUSE” TO ALL OF THE FUCKING PAIN MEDS LAST YEAR, YOU HEARTLESS, JUDGEMENTAL, GREED-WHORE BASTARDS!!!!!!!!!!), and I retired, permanently, from all forms of sexual interaction with other so-called humans (and unlike 40% of our random-google-search FUCKING PERVERTS who are looking for BESTIALITY PORN, NO, I AIN’T PLAYING CATHERINE THE GREAT, EITHER, YA SICK, UNEVOLVED, OUGHTA-BE-PUT-TO-SLEEP ANIMAL-ABUSING PIECES OF SHIT!!!) in July of 2006. I can’t go shopping for clothes, records, cat toys or the good catnip for my chirrens, haven’t been in a PetSmart to get the GOOD litter in SIX FUCKING MONTHS, haven’t seen a movie in a theatre in OVER TWO YEARS (far as I can remember at this point of medication for the night), and the last play I saw, on yet another DOOMED TO FUCK-AND-BACK “birthday,” that play fucking SUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKED. LSU Theatre owes me those two hours of my life, sitting in that fucking hard plastic chair, along with the money I wasted just to GET THERE, in some severely deep PAYBACK.

In other words, if it weren’t for my friends on teh innernets and the whole sum of two friends in person, if it weren’t for teh innernets themselves, I WOULD HAVE finally achieved my lifelong dream of becoming the world’s most complicated/inscrutable serial killer, from sheer loneliness, misery, boredom, and the ever-accelerating loss of my dying old dented-can “brain.” And when you throw in that ALLLLL of my guts & girl-parts were SEVERELY MANGLED in that horrific FUCKING CATHOLIC SADIST SPANISH-INQUISITION HELLHOLE “hospital” in ’07, my hormonal experience since then has been Russian Roulette, every three to six weeks, since August of 2007. And let us never forget the irreparable damage done to my brain, hormones, and entire body by the evil that is “Lyrica”, for damned sure!!!
One of these days, I’m gonna find that poufy-haired arrogant little midget prick who fucked-up my guts, FLAT-OUT REFUSED to do the partial hysterectomy while he was IN THERE ALREADY, and on top of that, DEPRIVED ME OF FOOD FOR THREE FUCKING DAYS AND WOUND-UP GIVING ME HEMORRHOIDS!!! — if I ever find THAT motherfucker, he is SO a fucking SPEED BUMP. I already had gut problems since 1997, but the ass-balloons WERE NOT THE KIND OF SOUVENIR THAT I WANTED TO TAKE HOME FROM MY 3RD & 4TH SPINE SURGERIES @ OUR LADY OF PERPETUAL CLASS WARFARE & BIGOTRY “medical center.”

So, now that I’ve overeducated all of y’all about the workings of my innards & girl parts, I want y’all go to over to the splendiferous World O’Crap and read Scott’s brief but brilliant piece on what the WOMAN-HATING, BIOLOGICALLY-ILLITERATE, MOUTH-BREATHING, INBRED, BEADY-EYED, NO-NECK, GROUND-SQUIRREL-FUCKING FUCKTARDS in the North Dakota state legislature have done to FURTHER ENSLAVE WOMEN, VIA THEIR CUNTS & UTERUSES, IN THE NAME OF “SAVING TEH BAYYYYBEEEEZZZZ.”

I’m gonna need an ASSLOAD OF POSTCARDS, ‘CAUSE I’M GONNA BE DOING MASS-MAILINGS, EVERY FUCKING MONTH. Hope that y’all enjoy the dessert idea, and if anybody has a dime to spare this month, Annti could really use it. I had to go to the Fallen Uterus & Her Dick to borrow the $75 to keep my truck insurance this month, so I’ve already suffered enough for one year. Would y’all agree? Yes, there are a trillion other people who need and deserve your help far more than I do, but since I will never be able or worthy of gainful employment, ever the fuck again, apparently, I’ve got MY hand out, too. Y’all’s choice either way, but thanks to all of y’all for continuing to read my screeds and give a fuck if I live or die, even though y’all are DEFINITELY in the minority on that one.

XOXOXO
Love,
Annti/Fearckadelic/Rantress

*A month ago, the Anna’s Ginger Thins were ONE DOLLAR A BOX @ teh evul Wally World. THIS MONTH, they’re A BUCK SEVENTY-THREE. Remember what I said about how they fuck the poor by jacking-up the prices on the SMALL THINGS, the bare necessities we need to live, whilst putting GIANT FLAT-SCREEN TVs AND COMPUTERS ON SALE TO DRAW IN TEH YUPPIE SCUM?!?!?!? Perfect example there. Generic baking soda (if you’ve got cats, you gotta have baking soda) was 34 cents, 2 months ago, then 43 cents a month ago, and is now 58 cents. Add that up with shampoo, deodorant, cat litter, cat food, hairball treats (which are EXHORBITANTLY PRICED), food and so forth, and I can’t even get HALF the shit that I actually NEED. Don’t anybody ever tell me that this global economic clusterfuck WASN’T ENTIRELY ENGINEERED TO FUCK THE POOR EVEN HARDER THAN WE’RE ALREADY SCREWED, whilst sparing teh yuppies & wealthy from ANY FUCKING INCONVENIENCE. Suckers of satan’s cock.


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  1. 1. lokywoky Said:

    Hey Annti, where’d you hear about the antabuse in the pain meds? Curious – I’d like to read the rationale behind it (besides the usual horsepoop of course)

    The strawberry thingy sounds wonderful!

  2. 2. Anntichrist S. Coulter Said:

    I figured it out after the 2nd spine surgery in ’06. Because of the butchery that was done me then, I’ve been on lortabs in the daylight and percosets at night for the past three fucking years (and really really REALLY wanna get back off of this shit, whether I have to do the neck surgery or not!!!), and the way they've "worked" with/against my body has DEFINITELY changed since back in 2000, when I had the first spine surgery.

    I can't even LOOK at booze now. Back when Charity Hospital's ortho clinic & "pain management" clinic were jerking me around for THREE FUCKING YEARS before they finally referred me up to the neurosurgery clinic (the people who finally FIXED what Morris Bart’s hack chiropractor KNEW was broken but RELEASED ME FROM HIS “CARE” ANYFUCKINGWAY) and got the shit fixed. I missed the last 2 years of my grandmother’s life because of the lortabs, percosets, and a year on oxycontins.

    BUT, the whole time, I could still enjoy my weekly cocktails @ the Dragon’s Den (and if I was particularly flush that week, @ the Dungeon on a Saturday night) for poetry night. Never got a full-body fever, never barfed my toenails up, never hurt in every cell in my body if I even TRIED to get near alcohol.

    I never drove drunk/altered, I never killed anybody, and while I did make some rather tragic decisions during those 3 years of pain and narcotic hell, I never got SICK FROM THE MEDS.

    But this go-round, if I even LOOK at a girly-beer (hate actual beer, but those Smirnoff Ice malt-liquor things are nice), here comes the pain: full-body fever, dry-heaves-to-the-death nausea, GI cramps from hell, and every joint in my body screams in fiery agony. Still don’t have a GP (long story), but my PT is very educated about pain meds, as it’s part of how he does his job (doesn’t write scripts, but needs to know what his patients are on, to see how much progress they can make, how fast), and when I explained to him why I had to give up booze entirely, he nailed it.

    Anabuse. The same drug that they give to lifelong alcoholics to FORCE them to detox from alcohol. They’ll never do a press release about it, they’ll never admit that it’s even IN THERE, but those symptoms didn’t come out of nowhere. I may not have much of a liver left, after that year on oxycontins and all of the other painkillers over the years, but neither it nor my pancreas should be crapping-out on me at the ripe old age of 38.

    And no, I haven’t tried to “research” it, because you know how well the pharmaceutical companies control information about their products, especially with the rubber-stamping, powerless FDA of the past 8 years. They have free license to do whatever the fuck they want, to whomever they want, WITH NO REPERCUSSIONS WHATSOFUCKINGEVER. Yeah, there are class-action suits out there, for all of the drugs that they rushed through production, despite the negative findings at the very LIMITED testing that they DID do ARE STILL ON THE MARKET, and the federal authorities do NOTHING to STOP THEM.

    Personally, I think that the DEA is giving them kickback money to put the Anabuse into the pain meds. Fates forfend, that someone in chronic, disabling pain, be able to relax once in a while with an adult beverage, that makes you into a JUNKIE, right. Just another form of class warfare. I bet that the brand-name products don’t have that shit in there, JUST THE GENERICS, for us “welfare queens.”

    And DEFINITELY try those Anna’s cookies, that shit RAWKS. I hadn’t tried them with the strawberry ice cream until last night, but it was a total foodgasm. And with your tummy/surgical issues of late, it might make you feel better, too! Ginger is supposed to help settle the stomach, if it’s cooked INTO something, never make the mistake I did of buying ginger capsules, ’cause that shit is RAW and will tear you UP.

  3. 3. mirele Said:

    Oh, all that food sounds wonderful. But I’ve been nauseous every morning this week. And today, after I drove to Scottsdale for work, after I ate my breakfast, while I was listening to our morning status call, I lost my breakfast in my desk trash can. If it had only been the loss of breakfast, I would have just stayed and completed the day. But noooo, it didn’t all end up in the trash can. I was a mess. So I ended up driving home and finishing up the rest of the day at chez Mirele. I even talked my brother into swinging by the house with a bottle of that evil pink crap (Pepto Bismol) because I felt that sick to my stomach.

    And NO, I am not pregnant. At this point, it would take an angel announcing good tidings of great joy, considering that nothing else is going on.

    I fucking hate not feeling 100%. This is such a PITA.

  4. 4. lokywoky Said:

    Hey Annti – nothing like first-hand experience. My surgeon says Lortab is useless anyway – messes with your head and doesn’t do anything for pain.

    I’m not a drinker so haven’t had the experience you have – but I will know that possibly my once a month small glass of rose wine is probably off limits for the duration right now. Good to be warned.

    Luv ya!

  5. 5. Anntichrist S. Coulter Said:

    Love y’all too! Sorry to hear about the boot today, Mirele, what the hell? (old college saying, boot, rally, reboot!) What kind of trouble have you been getting into?

    And hell, if I could sew mine shut, I would. Ain’t like I’m in any need of birth control, either, or will ever be again, but damn if I don’t miss my HORMONES!!!!!!! *sigh* Ah, ol’ Ortho Novum, or Tri-Cyclen, how I miss thee…

    How’s the tummy coming, Loky? Are you behaving yourself or are you pushing it already? Yes, I can too nag you, dammit, you do it to me when I’M post-op, so you’d better be behaving yourself! Wouldn’t even let me send the damned thank-you card with the cute puppy… *sigh*

    At the level of clusterfucked innards that you’ve got, Lortabs prolly ARE useless, hell, woman, your shit’s more scrambled than MINE! But they still function, more or less, for me. I purposefully stepped-down the dosage almost a year ago, but that was before the neck shit got unbearable and the potential possibility of neck surgery loomed in the not-so-distant future. So, apparently, I will NEVER get off of this shit. Did it cold-turkey home-kit detox off of the shit three or four times before, though the spazz-over-reactors tell you that that’ll “kill” you nowadays, but I ain’t worried about it. When I’m done, I’m done. I JUST WANNA GET TO THE POINT WHERE I CAN FINALLY BE DONE.

    A year of traction & PT, and the neck hasn't moved. The main herniated disk, the one that's pulling my spinal cord out the back and pressing like all hell on the nerve branches that control my shoulders, arms & hands, ain't budged an INCH. The one under it, which had just started to herniate (10 years after the fucking whiplash that came with the broken L-5, but the neck was NEVER treated by any of my previous HACKS, and don’t EVER trust a fucking chiropractor or a fucking ambulance-chasing “lawyer”!!!!) DID go back into place, so I know that my invaluable PT guy is doing the right stuff. It just doesn’t seem like it’s going to be enough to keep me from using all dexterity, strength and control over my hands, which is what’s driving me so fucking nuts.

    I used to be able to hand-sew (and hell yeah, I still miss the fuck out of my sewing machine!), do seed-beading on handmade purses, crochet (badly), paint (half-assedly), do artsy-fartsy-craftsy shit, cook all kinds of amazing shit, and now, bupkis. I do the exercises for my hands & fingers, I try to do artsy-craftsy shit that I invent, 'cause I can't afford arts & crafts supplies, but it's all for naught.

    Made blueberry muffins for supper… and spilled the fucking blueberries on the floor, half of which rolled under the filth/fur/fanged dust-bunnies under my fridge. Can't hold SHIT. Don't WANT anybody hacking my throat open and bending my trachea to the side to get to the front of my C-spine, by any stretch of the imagination, but it looks more and more likely.

    And yes, the bitching will increase exponentially as said process progresses. Maybe if I go back in the hospital, more of the M.O.B. bloggers will come back outta the woodwork and post again.

    XOXOXO
    J

  6. 6. Anntichrist S. Coulter Said:

    “thank-you card.”

    This is your brain on drugs.

    GET-WELL CARD.

    Sheesh.

  7. 7. mirele Said:

    Holy crap! The Anna’s thins are available from Amazon!

  8. 8. the Rev Jerry Gloryhole Said:

    I’ve been reading the Bible as part of my devotion, and along with the swollen, itching brain, have found some wondrous things indeed. If you want an idea of why women are treated like chattel in Xianity, go thou and read Judges 19-20. Mind-numbingly evil.

    On the other hand, there’s ice cream.
    Those ginger thins go very very well with Cheshire cheese, even tho I know you may not have it available there in East Bumfuck LA.
    At least you don’t have to shovel the door free of snow and ice when you go out to work in your unheated shop. That would piss you off.

  9. 9. Terrible Said:

    Don't anybody ever tell me that this global economic clusterfuck WASN'T ENTIRELY ENGINEERED TO FUCK THE POOR EVEN HARDER THAN WE'RE ALREADY SCREWED, whilst sparing teh yuppies & wealthy from ANY FUCKING INCONVENIENCE.

    Well you know I wouldn’t do that! ‘Cause the physical sure evidence points that way.

  10. 10. Anntichrist S. Coulter Said:

    Rev. Jerry, darlin' heart, you chose to live in a place that freezes and snows every damned year. Move down to where shit THAWS once in a while, and you don't have to shovel snow. You might have to rebuild your house every other year, but you get used to it. Just try not to build within fall-range of large trees.

    And amen, Terrible, it sure as hell does point that way, and how many hard ciders did you have when you typed that?

    Mirele, my love, you gonna pay shipping & handling on cookies?!?!? They oughta have 'em at your local grocery, and if not, you can hit the bakers directly through the embedded link. Granted, neither of the gouging-motherfuckers "grocery" stores here in Hillbilly HellHole have 'em, you gotta drive to Wally World (20 mi. each way), but I stock up when I go. Just wish that they were still as cheap as they were when I discovered them, 'cause $65 in food stamps doesn't cover SHIT, thank you very much Piyush, you caste-system ethnic-cleansing jug-eared FREAK. Have I mentioned how much I loathe that uber-fanatical-catholic blow-pop?

  11. 11. Mentis Fugit Said:

    Strange forces are at work here.

    Die Gnädige Frau and I headed over to Petone earlier today to have lunch together while shed of the offsprung. Afterwards, we popped in to On Trays, a shop that largely specialises in South African food imports, but also carries a shitload of other stuff (Greek beer?!?!)

    Anyways, there they were: Anna’s Thins. No ginger, sadly, but grabbed a pack of almond.

  12. 12. Anntichrist S. Coulter Said:

    Hmmmm… Maybe we’ve started an Anna’s cult? And how much worse could Greek beer be than all of the other beer? They make pretty good food, I know that much. Not big on the grape leaves, but everything else… *sigh* Foodgasm.

    Another thing that I miss about NOLA: the spring GreekFest at the orthodox church. No, the place didn’t explode when I walked into the vestibule. I bought a cookbook to learn how to make tiropites, but they never did come out right, dammit.

    I wonder if the folks @ Anna’s would give us a bulk discount… And tell the On Trays folks to carry the Ginger Thins, ’cause they RAWK!!! And good luck keeping Karma away from the cinnamon/almond thins… heh.

  13. 13. mirele Said:

    I’ll have to shop around to find the Anna’s cookies. I was just surprised to find that they were available from Amazon.

    Socks the cat has died. He had throat cancer. He was 20 years old. RIP.

  14. 14. Terrible Said:

    Money is very tight here this week(and next week too) because of my taking a weekend off. But I can pitch some into the postcard fund 2 weeks from now.

    And those Anna’s Ginger Thins are very good!!

  15. 15. Mentis Fugit Said:

    And good luck keeping Karma away from the cinnamon/almond thins… heh.

    Our first cat, when I was a lad, was a chronic junk food addict. You couldn’t open a packet of chips in the house without Quits appearing at the sprint. He used to disappear for days at a time; turned out he would hang out down at the local primary school.

  16. 16. Anntichrist S. Coulter Said:

    Well, cats are mercenary like that… heh. I’ve heard of cats who had three or four families, and would visit each whenever the mood would strike, depending on what was being cooked, whatever. And it’s not until those cats die or go missing that the families find out about one another.

    Sad to report that “Wooly Bully,” the beautiful little long-haired ginger cat who moved here with Bob a couple months ago, has gone missing. He couldn’t have been more than 4 months old, and just, “POOF!” gone. I suspect that he crawled into an engine to get warm, and didn’t make it out in time when it was next cranked, and of course, whomever threw his little body into the dumpster (and these assholes invariably do, as when Smudge was killed), rather than getting me, so that I could bury him. He’s not tame at all, utterly feral, though Bob has obviously lived with people before. Bob’s also been abused, he’s got some severe emotional issues, but he’s learning to trust me, most of the time. But then, as he’s thrusting his head into my palm to be petted, he’ll also reach up and rip his claws through my hand. The cat ain’t right. And yes, scumbag people, as usual, are to blame. Be a better planet with more cats and less people, or at least, to have the cats we already have be left ALONE, and lose several hundred thousand mow-rahns. Starting with that wicked, batshit-crazy bibul-banging, frothing-at-the-mouth convert hobbit Piyush Jindal. Oh, for fuck’s sake, if I have to hear that name ONE MORE TIME TODAY, I swear, I’m going to pull an Elvis on my television.

    Sorry to hear about Socks, Mirele. Did you know that he had his own fan club?

    Glad that you enjoyed those cookies, Terrible!

    I need to download pictures of my last few Cat Haven cats one of these days. Yeah, I kinda miss it, but not THAT much. I kinda like not being shredded and in pain all of the damned time. Yes, I’ll always feel guilty about having retired, but I’m just one person, and these spoiled-brat yuppie-scum baby boomers up here need to get off of their narcissistic asses and do something about these animals, too.

  17. 17. ImStillMags Said:

    I LOVE Anna’s cookies. I make this killer pot de creme that is the most chocolate thingy you ever tasted and I serve it with the orange ones.

    The combination is amazing.

  18. 18. Anntichrist S. Coulter Said:

    If we ever hit the powerball, I’m buying stock in Anna’s.

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