Overheard quote from my ex-brother-in-law-who-married-my-sister-and-who-we-adopted-because-you-know-we-like-him-a-lot-better-then-her to my sister over the phone:

"Why don't you do the world a favor and just please die already? ...No, no, I'm serious. Die."

You know, you can overlook a whooole lot of flaws in a person after hearing them actually say a quote like that. If you don't giggle at that alone, just imagine a thick Arabic accent saying it as well.

I figure this is as good a reason as any to update this bloody thing! We just got home from Kansas, getting our two brand-spankin'-new horsies. Well, okay, one's a pony, and they're not exactly brand-spankin'-new seeing as the youngest one is 7 years old, but you know. God, they're freaking gorgeous. Pictures before anything else... seriously, look at these babies:

The buckskin appaloosa, currently named Shianne (though I'll probably change it... suggestions, anyone?) was our primary reason for going. He's 7 years old, just green-broke to ride and rather spirited, which worried me at first, but upon watching him let my nieces crawl all over him, petting him, cooing at him and tugging on his main, my suspicions were put to rest. The appaloosa pony is 12 years old and blind in one eye (probably going to get it removed tomorrow before it gets too infected) and we got him for free-- see, we took my brother-in-law with us to get Shianne, and he mentioned off-handedly to the woman there that he wanted to eventually get a good horse for my nieces to ride, and she said that the pony had been trained to be bombproof around children, was a good companion, and she needed to give him away to someone with a good home to live out the rest of his life. So yes.

Squeal at the pretty ponies, my children!

I bummed this off of Carrot and Sock... put 4 keywords from 10 favorite movies/shows, see if you can guess what I'm talking about. Since I couldn't think of 10 movies, I chose to do 5 shows and 5 movies instead.

Another rant about our Trailer Tenant. I'm sorry, I just can't bottle it up any more.

She's a "biker". Seriously, she talks about motorcycles constantly, like they're some sort of great society. She'll literally ramble on for hours at a time about all the customs and 'colors' and ceremonies and titles and et cetera. PLEASE! They're a bunch of crooks! That's all they are! They're all nothing but low-brow doper thieves who go around pissing in their own pants to prove how "butch" they are and raping their "wimmins". She, herself, was telling me about how she's been raped repeatedly, had her scalp torn apart, had her right ear ripped off, and a whole host of other horrific injuries that made me cringe and squirm in my seat as she described them-- I'm so horribly tempted to just sit her down and BEG her to tell me what's so APPEALING about that sort of "lifestyle"?! I mean, hell, I guess being a Nazi has bennies and community spirit too, but they're usually pretty looked-down upon! Maybe if she was only, I dunno, 23, I could give her the benefit of a doubt because she'd just be young and inexperienced-- but when you're 42, with a 13-year-old son to take care of, you've gotta kind of grow up!!

Oh, and she brings around her "boy"friend", who is pushing 60, is the "president" of the biker gang (which makes her the "president's old lady") and a "veteran" in Vietnam. You know how worthless this guy is? He got to be a war hero by "seeing brown water". That's it. All they had to do was wheel their little tugboat out into the ocean and see brown water, and they got full honors for this. He also gets disability because, get this, he has PTSD. PTSD... you know, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, because some guns went off once and he didn't cover his ears so his eardrums were blown out. Oh, snap, poor baby. Even he talks about how the fact that he had to drink warm beer was the worst thing he had to do.

And, if all that wasn't absolutely horrible enough, he brags about all this, like he's so proud of himself, to my dad-- who suffers horrible PTSD because he saw many of his friends die in Vietnam, got shot in the shoulder, was exposed to large amounts of Agent Orange, and et cetera. While my dad was out there getting shot, he was in his boat having parties and drinking whiskey. It infuriates me. I mean, my God, how viciously insensitive can one get?! It would be like me comparing the fact that I have a case of the sniffles to his girlfriend's double-mastectomy.