The Starving Bulls**t Artist

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Why I Can’t Buy Bourbon Before Noon on Sunday & Other Dumb Laws April 6, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — madamebitters @ 3:45 am
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Good Evening,

This morning, around 10:00 or so, I decided that I wanted to make Bread Pudding; mostly because I had a bunch of stale bread to get rid of. Plus, I like Bread Pudding.

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Now, I know some of you are thinking, Madame Bitters, why didn’t you crumble up the stale bread and feed it to the birds? Am I right? Is that what you were thinking?

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Damn, I’m good!

I don’t like birds.  I don’t want them in my yard or anywhere near my home.

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There’s a story that explains my fear/hatred of birds, but I’d rather not go into it. Suffice to say, I had a bad experience. That’s all I’m gonna say on the matter.

Hmmm… seems I’ve wandered off topic. Sorry about that.

Anyway, I decided to make Bread Pudding at around 10:00 am. So I began gathering my ingredients, tearing up the bread, etc.

Then I go to my liquor cabinet for some bourbon (Bread Pudding needs bourbon for it’s sauce). I move the bottles around and, out of  my numerous bottles of booze, there is not a drop of bourbon to be found.

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Dammit!

So I get dressed and I leave the house for the nearest liquor store, which is far, far away. The town I live in is “dry” as are the other towns near me.  To get the bourbon I need, I have to make a half hour drive.

This wouldn’t be a big deal under normal circumstances, but since it was a NASCAR weekend, the traffic was thick and the trip took about twice as long as it normally would have. Since I don’t care for NASCAR, I had forgotten about it.

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I make it to the liquor/convience store around 11:30. I go in, go straight to the liquor aisle and pick up a small bottle of bourbon. Less than 5 minutes later, I’m ready to buy my booze and make the drive home.

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I go up to the counter. The man looks at my bottle and says, “I can’t sell this to you.”

So I dig around in my purse for some ID and I show him my driver’s license.

“No, the state law prohibits me from selling alcohol before noon on Sundays.”

Shit! I’d forgotten about this law. I try to convince him by telling the clerk it’s for a recipe I’m making. It makes no difference

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So I stand at the counter for the entire 15 minutes while he straightens the cigarettes and lotto ticket dispensers. At 12:01, I buy my bourbon and drive home.

Now this story, which I admit was a little long, is to illustrate an example of a stupid law. Granted, I do live in the Bible Belt (I’ll bet the NASCAR reference gave it away) so this law may not be viewed as stupid by certain people.

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Here are some laws that serve absolutely no purpose whatsoever, except maybe to be included on lists like this one.

Here they are in the order in which I found them:

  1. It’s illegal to operate a motor vehicle while blindfolded– Alabama
  2. There is a $500 fine if you bother a butterfly in Pacific Grove, CA
  3. You may not pay for a  50-cent item with only pennies– Canada
  4. It’s illegal for a man to give his wife or girlfriend a box of candy if it weighs less than 50lbs– Idaho
  5. It’s illegal for anyone to give lighted cigars to dogs, cats, birds or any other domesticated animal kept as a pet– Illinois
  6. It’s illegal to pick ones nose on the Sabbath- Israel
  7. It’s illegal to transport and ice cream cone in your pocket– Kentucky
  8. It’s illegal to fish for whales on Sunday– Ohio
  9. Prostitution is legal, but it’s illegal to use the services of a prostitute–Sweden
  10. It’s illegal to use a lasso to catch a fish– Tennessee
  11. It’s unlawful for chickens to lay eggs before 8 am and after 4 pm– West Virginia

I really can’t bitch too much, though. While I may not be able to buy booze until noon on Sunday, at least I can fish for whales!

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Does Anyone ‘Get’ David Lynch? March 29, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — madamebitters @ 5:15 am
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I’m asking an honest question here.

Does anyone ‘get’ David Lynch?

Because I sure as hell don’t. I’ll elaborate further in a minute, but before I do I gotta be sure you know who David Lynch is.

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For those of you who aren’t familiar with David Lynch, he’s the creator of the bizarre TV series Twin Peaks. It aired in the early 90’s and was about the murder of a girl named Laura Palmer.

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David Duchovney (he played FBI agent Mulder in The X-Files, he plays novelist Hank in Californication, and is currently in a rehab clinic that specializes in sex addiction) played the investigating detective– who also happened to be a cross-dresser.

While he’s probably best known as the creator of Twin Peaks, he has also directed a few films. A friend of mine burned me a copy of Blue Velvet, which is arguably his best known film. It stars Dennis Hopper who plays a sexual deviant.

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Perhaps I should back up a bit….

This whole thing started when I took a quiz at a site called helloquizzy.com called Which director should film your life story? I took this quiz, answered the questions honestly and my result was… David Lynch.

A couple of days later I told my friend (who we’ll call Tasha) about the quiz and my results. She laughed for a very long time.  

Tasha, being the kind of friend that she is, wanted me to understand how funny the results of my quiz were. So she dropped off a burned copy of Blue Velvetat my house for my viewing pleasure the next day. 

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I didn’t have anything better to do that afternoon so I popped it in the DVD player, kicked back and watched a film so odd that the adjective ‘odd’ doesn’t begin to convey it’s weirdness.

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Now, I’m not going to go into the particulars of Blue Velvet because after watching the entire movie, I’m still not sure what it’s even about.

 Blue Velvet is an cinematic experience that mere words simply cannot describe. But I can share a few things without spoiling the plot– if it could even be called that.

  1. Blue Velvet looks like it had a budget of about $300. There are probably snuff films out there that cost more to make. In fact, the similarities between Blue Velvet and a snuff film are scary.
  2. The set and the people inthe film (like the extras and supporting cast) look like characters that should be in an SNL skit.
  3. Dennis Hopper’s character (and probably Dennis Hopper himself) is a sexual freak, a deviant of the worse kind. I’m no prude, but the stuff he did and said in Blue Velvet made me cringe in horror. I won’t elaborate because I may have flashbacks.

Now, this movie received rave reviews. I’m not really surprised. Blue Velvet is the sort weird independent film that frustrated movie critics jizz themselves over. I fucking hate movie critics for this very reason!

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Anyway, my question still stands. Does anyone ‘get’ David Lynch? If you do, would you mind explaining him to me and a few million other people?

 

Heeeeeeere’s Madame! March 25, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — madamebitters @ 3:34 am

Hey, sexies!

Wow! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? You’re looking well. In fact, I think you may have grown a little bit since we last hung out.

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Oh no, you don’t look any taller; I meant horizontally. Fat-ass.

That’s not a putdown, by the way. I likes me some junk in the trunk! Know what I mean? You don’t?  Oh well, it’s not important

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Golly, I’ve missed you so! Did you miss me?

You better have….. If you know what’s good for you!

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Smooches!

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~MB~

 

Mme Bitters’s Book of the Week: The Dress Lodger March 13, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — madamebitters @ 4:25 am
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Welcome!

I’ve decided to add a new segment to my blog, The Starving Bulls**t Artist. It will be a weekly posting about a book that I like. After much thought I decided to name this new segment Mme. Bitters’s Book of the Week.

Clever, huh?

Catchy? You betcha!

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank one of my frequent blog contributors, eksith. In addition to being a decent, gracious  and intelligent man (as well as  a snappy dresser, probably) he had this idea first. Even though the segment on eksith’s blog is Movie of the Week, I still feel that giving props is in order.

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So, in the words of  the great scribe 50 cent : “I love you like a fat kid loves cake.” *

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Beautiful words from a homely man. Now let’s do this thang, shall we?

This week’s book is The Dress Lodger, by Sheri Holman.

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Cover ImageIt takes place in 1831 in Sunderland, England during a cholera quarantine. The two main characters are Gustine and Henry.

Gustine is the 15 year old “dress lodger”. This is a certain kind of prostitute that wears a dress that a lady of nobility might wear in order to attract a higher class clientele. Her landlord/pimp rents her the dress. To be sure she doesn’t run off with it, he has her followed by another of his tenants, a mysterious one-eyed old woman who never speaks

Henry is a grave robbing doctor who is disgraced and is forced to move to Sunderland to start over. He rob graves and he uses the corpses he steals to teach anatomy to medical students.

The two work out partnership where Gustine finds a body and alerts Henry so he can snatch it before it’s found and buried. Sunderland is a port city and in combination with the  cholera outbreak, bodies are plentiful

Gustine has a very unique reason to help the disgraced Henry steal corpses.  Gustine is a young mother whose infant son has an unusual, life threatening deformity. Her hope is the more corpses Henry disects and studies, the greater chance he’ll be able to save her child

Wanna know more? Then read the damn book, already!
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*This line is from the song ’21 Questions,’ as rapped by 50 cent.

 

Gold Digging- No Shovels Needed March 10, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — madamebitters @ 5:54 am
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Good evening:

Being under house arrest has given me ample time to catch up on my soaps and other daytime TV shows. That explains why I was watching Dr. Phil this afternoon.

 

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Dr. Phil is a relationship therapist who got his big break on Oprah.His show deals mostly with infidelity, kids with behavioral problems and dysfunctional families/relationships in general.

Today’s episode was a little different and is what inspired this post: Gold diggers.

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Not THAT kind of gold digger!!!

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THIS kind of gold digger!!!!

Two of the guests were gorgeous young women who would only date wealthy men. The third guest was a football player who was on the team that won The Super Bowl. I don’t remember who it was or why Dr. Phil even had him on the panel.

It’s a 30 minute show (well, 22 minutes not counting commercials) and the majority of that time was spent by Dr. Phil trying to make these women feel guilty for their gold digging ways. It didn’t work, of course.

 

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Dr. P made statemnets like, “Don’t you feel bad for using these men just for their money?” and “Isn’t love more important than money?” When these women would say No, Dr. P would say something along the lines of, “Well, I think your priorities are screwed up.”

Occasionally, the football player would chime in and tell Dr. P and the audience how gold diggers were constantly after him, especially now that his team won the Super Bowl.

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Now, I found this show a tad biased. It made these women out to be the big, bad bitches preying on rich, unsuspecting, naive men. But that’s only one side of the issue; only one point of view.

First off, the majority of these men knew exactly what these women were after. Wealthy men aren’t naive in the ways of the world, especially where their money is concerned.

 

 

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How do you think they became wealthy in the first place? Sure, a few inherited their wealth, but the majority worked, lied, schemed and back-stabbed to get rich.

Most rich people are assholes and they know it. They know people with less hate them. The only reason those people with less money “like” the rich is because they want to better there own fortunes. Why wouldn’t an attractive woman do the same?

 

 

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The gold diggers on Dr. Phil used men primarily for their money. But didn’t these wealthy men use them too? Not for money, but for sex and to have a beautiful woman to show off at business functions, social events etc?

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Most wealthy men see wives/girlfriends as another posession. They want to make damn sure that they have the best looking “toy” out of all their cronies. If they need to spend some money on their wife/girlfriend in order to improve their image or be envied by their peers, they’ll do it.

 

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My point is, the ‘using’ goes in both directions.

I’m not a gold digger and I can’t see myself ever being with someone solely for monetary gain. Don’t get me wrong, I like nice things and I like them even more when I’m not the one stuck with the bill.

 

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But marrying for money is short-sighted, in my opinion. Especially when in ten years time they’ll likely drop their goldigging spouse and upgrade to a “newer model”.

 

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I personally hate having to depend on people. It shifts the balance of power in any relationship which is never good where the weaker party is concerned.

I think I’ve rambled on long enough and I hope I’ve made my point. Whatever it was 😉

 

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Until next time.

~MB~

 

My Ex-Roomate, the Nudist March 6, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — madamebitters @ 8:23 am
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Good evening:

Did I ever tell you that at one point in my life I had a nudist for a roommate?

I didn’t? Really? Are you sure about that?

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Would you like to hear the story about the nudist I co-habited with for the better part of a year? I don’t know why I’m asking- I’m going to tell the story whether you like it or not.

So here we go.

I saw her ad for a roommate on a billboard at the junior college where I was taking a non-credit mixed media art class. I read her ad and I met all of the requirements: Female, Non-Smoker, No pets, Tidy with a Steady Income. Bingo.

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The ad had several strips with her name (Carrie) and phone number on them that could be torn off. So I took one. I called her after my class let out and we set up a meeting the next afternoon at a diner by the college.

Anyway, we met up the next day and we hit it off right away. Carrie asked me a few questions: What did I  do for a living (she was a  manager at The Limited), if I would have people over a lot (she was a bit on the shy side), if I drank (she never touched the stuff, but it was fine if I did, so long as I didn’t get obnoxious or sick).

These are the sort of questions that a person asks a prospective roommate and I was prepared for them. However, I was not prepared for her final question: How I felt about nudists.

I didn’t think I heard her correctly. “Did you just ask me how I felt about nudists?” I asked her. She nodded.

“Well, they’re okay, I guess. Why do you ask?” 

It turned out Carrie was a “nudist at heart”. When I asked her what that meant she told me that, while she lived in a clothed society in private she preferred to be nude at all times.

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While I digested this bit of information, she also told me that she had a timeshare at a nudist resort and campground and that she spent every vacation there with her nudist friends.

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Carrie asked me if I would have a problem with her lifestyle. I weighed my current living situation (which was with my parents, as I was between roommates at the time) against living with someone who spent the majority of her free-time in the nude.

What could I say? Living with your parents when you’re an adult is frustrating, to put it mildly. While you know you’re an adult, they forget it and end up treating you like a willful, disobedient child. At least that’s how my situation was.

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I just had two questions for Carrie: Do you and your friends sit on towels when you’re all nude  in the living room and Would I have to get nude with you? She answered yes to the first question and no to the second, so we agreed I could move in the next day.

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Since I didn’t have a lot of possessions at the time, the movers had me in Carrie’s apartment by late afternoon. As soon as the moving crew left, Carrie stripped down, got a bottle of water and flopped down on the sofa (on which a towel had already been spread.) “Oh, man! I thought they’d never leave!”

Even though she told about her nudist tendencies, actually seeing her in the altogether was something else entirely. I wished with every fiber of my being that the movers would come back, perhaps for a piece of equipment they had forgotten. I looked around. No such luck

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“Come on, sit down. You’ve gotta be tired,” she said. I was, so I sat in a chair on the other side of the room. She switched on the TV and we watched a rerun of Friends.  It was the one where the gang thinks that their neighbor in the building across from theirs, Ugly Naked Guy, may be dead. Who says that God doesn’t have a sense of humor?

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I went to bed early.

Over the next few days, I avoided contact with Carrie as much as possible without being too obvious. She still knew I was uncomfortable and things between us grew strained.

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I felt like an uptight, prudish bitch. Carrie was a nice person and this seemed to be her only quirk. I made it a point to be around her more, to force myself to get used to her nakedness. If for no other reason than I wouldn’t have to live with my folks again. Amazingly, it worked.

Seeing Carrie nude became a part of life. It was as commonplace as say, seeing a lamp or chair, and after awhile I just didn’t notice anymore. In fact, on the rare occasions I saw Carrie wearing clothes it seemed wrong to me.

Things went on like that for a few months, our living somewhat in harmony together. But then she fucked it up by deciding to stop wearing clothes when I had my boyfriend (at that time) over.

We (me and the boyfriend) had been seeing each other for a couple of months and he was over at the apartment two or three times a week. Carrie decided she couldn’t bring herself to wear clothes on the days he came over. Later, she said she wasn’t being true to her ideals

One day when we came home from dinner we walked in on her vacuuming in the nude. I was shocked and more than a little miffed. She had never pulled anything like this before.

 As for my boyfriend his eyes were so bugged out of his head he looked like a caricature of himself. The kind a failed artist on a street corner would draw. I told him to leave and the tone of voice I used left no room for argument.

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After he was gone, we got into a terrible argument. I had never wanted to hit someone so bad in my life . I think I would have eventually had a neighbor not called the police to report a domestic disturbance.

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When the cops (there was 2 of them) got there, they thought we were having a lover’s spat- probably because Carrie was still naked when they arrived. I explained the situation, but I don’t think they believed me. They didn’t stay long and I’m sure they told quite a story to their cronies.

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I left that night and stayed with a friend of mine. The next day I went back to the apartment to get my things and to get even with Carrie.

After I packed up all of my stuff I went into Carrie’s bedroom (she was at work, as I knew she would be). I stole every article of clothes she owned; even her socks, undergarments, shoes, and hats. As you can imagine, there wasn’t a lot to take. Then I left.

On my way home I stopped by the Goodwill Superstore and donated all of Carrie’s things. The woman at the counter told me that, “the world would be a better place if more generous people like you were around.” I just smiled, thanked her and left the store.

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She did call a few times about her missing clothes and to threaten me with bodily harm. But I changed phone numbers and I haven’t had anymore problems with her.

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Are all nudists bat-shit crazy like Carrie was? I doubt it. A lot of them are old and were former hippies, so they’re pretty mellow. Besides, most nudists are the last people on Earth you’d ever want to see naked. Attraction and jealousy rarely come into play.

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And that’s my story about my ex-roommate, the nudist.

 

About the Brand-New Layout March 5, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — madamebitters @ 4:50 am
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Good evening:

After much soul-searching, internal debate and a few calls to a variety of psychic hot-lines, I’ve decided to change the layout of my blog, The Starving Bulls**t Artist.


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The regular readers of this site (both of them) will remember the former layout was  Girl in Green. They will also remember that it was difficult to read because of the lighter green writing on an already light green background.

The monochromatic color scheme of my former layout was, in my opinion, a bit nauseating. All that green, you know? I think of sea-sickness and the vomit from the possessed girl in The Exorcist .


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Besides, I’ve always thought of green as a morose and depressing color. I don’t dislike the color, per se. It’s just a little green goes a long way in my opinion. There also weren’t any tabs, which bothered me.

 

As one of my regular readers, Jesus Budda, put it, “It’s more professional.” I agree, Budda. He’s a smart guy. Think idiot savant, Rainman kinda smart; only not as good at math. 

 

While not a “business” in the traditional way, it was my hope that this blog might generate a small source of income for me.
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 That hasn’t happened yet, but I hope the new layout will draw a few (hundred) more readers. Then perhaps the money will follow.

In short, the Girl in Green background screamed “teenager who knows every line of Twilight by heart!”


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Hopefully this new layout will scream something else. Maybe, “sophisticated young woman who has been wronged by society but still in possession of her trademark off-beat sense of humor!”  Or something to that effect.

We shall see.