www.reneecarol.com

open range.

do you know what that means?

well, when you live in no-mans-land, it means that cattle have the right to walk/run/stampede across public roads freely.  but if you hit them with your car, you have to pay back the rancher for the living ribeye that you just splattered all over the road.

lame? yes.  i think so.  why don’t people have their cattle/livestock confined to a farm like the midwest?  last time i checked, cattle didn’t have roaming rights. (PETA, get off my shit.)

i wouldn’t let my child play near the road and post up an “open range” sign with the silhouette of a child crossing the street.  i would be responsible, and make sure that my little tyke wouldn’t have a permanent set of tire marks stamped across the back of his ass.  but maybe that’s just me.

there is nothing quite like driving around, not knowing if a live whopper jr. is going to totally ruin your day.

oh, the wild, wild west.

i was listening to this rap song on the radio, and one of the lines in it goes like this:

“that extra grenadine got me feeling so nice.”  or, something like that.

mmmkay.  obviously you are unaware that grenadine is just a cherry flavoring that has no alcoholic content.  that’s like rapping about snorting pixie stix to get a meth high.

a reneecarol.com word of advice: stick to rapping about what you know.  like bitches, hos, pitbulls and unpaid child support.

i saw a woman with these on in the grocery store the other day. someone, somewhere is missing their two, beloved, pomeranian pups.

it’s been a while now, so i am guessing it’s okay to put this guy on blast.

over summer, i went out on a date with this guy…let’s call him Mr. McCheater. Mr. McCheater had a girlfriend (duh.) anyway, before i asked him out, i heard he had a girl back home (he was from out of town), so i decided to let it go for a while. time passed, i assumed he and his girl broke up, so i decided to pounce. i asked him out for drinks, he accepted, (i figure a guy with a girl would have politely declined), and we met up a few days later. we hit it off and had a blast. he seemed like a ten; good looking, smart, nice, polite, in shape…the whole package. unfortunately, this package came with some extra baggage…a lady friend. over the course of texting, because that is how adults communicate with one another, i found out about his girl back home. now, i am going to post those texts to give you a chuckle. they aren’t exactly “kwame scandalicious,” but they’re funny.

Mr. McCheater: “hey, what are you up to?”

me: “just got back from taking a walk with (my friend). we had a nice walk/talk.”

Mr. McCheater: “if you didn’t know i had a girlfriend, i am sorry. i told (my friend) before you asked me to get a drink and i was assuming you heard. i hope you are not mad because i have had so much fun hanging out with you and you are an awesome girl. i hope things are still coool because i would love to hang out with you again before i leave.”

me: “huh? you have a girlfriend? grrrreat.”

(there is a 5 minute pause in between these texts.)

Mr. McCheater: “can i take you out tomorrow and pretend we never had this conversation? i just want to see you again.”

me: “did you really just ask me that?”

Mr. McCheater: “i am sorry. i screwed up and i feel horrible that i didn’t tell you. sorry to end things like this because you don’t deserve it.”

me: “it sounds like you are breaking up with me…dude, things weren’t that serious. but i am guessing that you don’t even feel bad.”

Mr. McCheater: “i do feel bad. my stomach has been hurting me because i couldn’t stop thinking about it. i really liked you and to be honest i didn’t think things would get so serious. i did not know what to do. i will stop there because i don’t want to lead you on. i mean every word of it. can i take you out as a friend tomorrow? i just want to try and make things right.”

me: “i don’t think so.”

so…i think i will nominate Mr. McCheater for an emmy for best drama. we went on one measly date.

boys, do not agree to go on a date if you are already commited to someone else. especially if the girl you go on a date with has her own website.

…and for the record, no, i don’t have any hard feelings towards Mr. McCheater. it’s done, it’s over and it gave us all something to laugh about.

before reading this post, read the one directly below it (because children interfere with my trashy t.v. lineup.) i decided to add on to it. it won’t make sense unless you read the other one first.

okay, with that being said, i shouldn’t just poke fun at the unwed couples. let’s make an ad for the married couples, as well.

here’s my family planning ad for this situation:

pictured is a pregant woman, in her mid-thirties, looking frustrated in the kitchen. her hair is a mess, she has baby food on her shirt, and you can visibly see her wedding ring while her hands are grabbing her random strands of hair in anger. her husband is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, reading the paper, seemingly not bothered by the morning’s insanity. there are two twin boy toddlers, strapped in high chairs, one with food all over his face, the other is feeding the dog his left-over breakfast.

and here is the caption:

“john and i have enough going on in our lives, and after our third child is born, we have decided to press pause on expanding our growing family. NoBaby4Me is the IUD we have chosen to make that pause possible. while it can last up to five years, i just need about a week to find out where i put those divorce papers. i have a feeling they are stashed somewhere between the hustler magazines and coupons for home depot. i was not planning on a third child, but when john bought me a new tennis bracelet to make up for his “working late,” one thing led to another, and here we are. what diamonds and a bottle of dom can do to your uterus, let me tell ya. so, moments like this make me thankful that there is such a product as NoBaby4Me. i may not be able to control what goes in to my vagina, but i sure as hell can control what comes out of it. NoBaby4Me. maybe now i won’t feel so guilty about sleeping with john’s brother.”

this is not the first time that i have noticed something like this, but i have to comment on it. of course.

at work, we sell this fertility supplement, and on the box there is a picture of two people. one person is a man and the other is a woman. the woman is pregnant, and she is holding hands with her husband. in the picture, if you look closely enough like i did, the photographers made it a point to get the wedding ring in the photo. hmmm…pregnant woman, fertility supplement, she must have been a good girl and got married before she went and got knocked up. but it’s not just this one time i have noticed this, and you probably all know what i am talking about. commercials or other print ads that promote any type of fertility treatment or family planning have women sporting wedding bands. this, in my opinion, is totally effed up. yeah, some people take it the old fashioned way and get hitched before reproducing. sweet. many others, however, prefer to have a little romp in the hay before walking down the isle. i don’t have issues with either method, but if advertisements want to be more appealing to the masses, they need to relate to the masses. a lot of people are mating without being married and popping out kids faster than you can say, “what was your last name again?” look at brad and angelina. they have enough kids to fill a mini van, yet there is no ring on anyone’s finger.

i guess if i were to do the advertising for a fertility company, i would keep it real. and this is probably why i would be fired shortly thereafter. i would have a picture of a woman. (good start, eh? they are the ones popping out the babies, so it makes sense.) the woman would not have a wedding ring. she would, however, have one or two visible tattoos, a skull and crossbones maternity shirt (because not all preggos wear effing pink,) and she might have a faux-hawk hair do. the woman would be in her living room, sitting next to her boyfriend, who is sitting on the couch, yelling at the tv while watching football, eating a bowl of macaroni and cheese with hot dogs in it. there will be posters on the wall behind the couple, visible in the picture. there would be a poster of the classic farrah fawcett pose in the red bathing suit, the “teamwork” poster where people are holding up a guy doing a keg stand, and a poster of stewie from family guy. the caption for the photo would be this:

“frat parties and unplanned pregnancies go hand in hand. joey and i were not planning on ice luging all night and then hooking up afterward, but it happened anyway. one child is all we can afford right now, so to be better prepared for the next huge basher, we have decided to go with NoBaby4Me. it’s an IUD that protects against pregnancy for up to five years. it can be taken out before then, but it’s a saftey blanket for all of that unprotected sex i might be having after my first child is born. with the cost of everything going up lately, babysitters are expensive, and you can only tie your child up to the kitchen table so many times before they learn to chew through the rope and tear the house apart when you’re out. why not make the same choice as us? NoBaby4Me. the IUD that makes it possible to be promiscuous without having to go on Maury to find out who your baby’s daddy is.”

raunchy and wrong, yes. i know. but reality is a harsh blow to some. this is what happens to some people. so why not incorporate those unplanned pregnancy situations in to some of the advertising? my mom would always ask me why the hell i loved watching springer and maury when i was younger. to which i replied, “mom, this is real life. screw the news…we have real people in this world that are really like this. this is reality.”

pregnancy is not all wedding rings and crotched baby blankets. sometimes it’s a few too many rum and cokes and acid hits.

ahh…talk sex with sue johanson. another one of my faves. i was going to try and post a pic of a contraception ad, but i stumbled across this one and loved it. everyone loves a grandma with a dildo in her hand on national television.

theoretically speaking, of course.

so, renee was let go/fired/given the old boot from one of her jobs last night. why? well, let me fill you in. renee is a stubborn and bull headed individual. she stands up for herself and her creativity. the old boss and i had two opposing view points on something, and, well, he being the boss, had the upper hand in the situation and let me go. that’s fine. i knew exactly what the consequences were if i didn’t remove something from my website. i stood my ground, he stood his, and the rest is history. it all boils down to my creative writing coming around to bite me in the ass. this isn’t the first time i have been stubborn about something and it’s bitten me in the ass, and it probably won’t be the last. but, that’s who i am. there aren’t any hard feelings about anything, and i appreciate the messages i have received so far about the situation. no one should worry their pretty little head. reneecarol.com is going to continue to lower IQs across america, and piss people off…well, not directly, but i know this website won’t sit well with everyone…mainly those people with taste…i’m sure they find my writings appalling. like i’ve said before, this wesbsite is not intended for mature audiences.

hey, don’t sweat the petty things and don’t pet the sweaty things. it’s a good motto to live by.

i love negotiating. let’s do this. (get it? the movie, the negotiator? uh, bad reference, i know.)

when approached to remove things from my website, i may get a little defensive. i am too damn stubborn for that. i will, however, negotiate. let’s talk it out. i will revise some things to avoid the drama, but as for removing something completely, i shall refer you to my 9/20/08 posting. i blog about everything. deal with it. as long as i don’t mention names…which i do not, unless given permission, i won’t spoil your valued reputation.

people need to understand that writing is what i do. i am not good at many things. writing isn’t even one of them, but i love doing it. please don’t knock my creativity just because it doesn’t jive with your style. as previously mentioned, if i write about something on here, you can guarantee i won’t name names, but if you aren’t happy with what i am posting, don’t read my entries. don’t get me wrong, i am flattered that you checked out my website in the first place. but if you’ve got beef, leave it for the grill. (that doesn’t even make sense, but let’s go with it.) if you are dissatisfied with what you’ve read on here, stop visiting my page. who knows, reneecarol.com may not be the only website that is anonymously knocking your shit. but if you don’t know about it, it’s not going to kill you…agreed? just because someone may have tipped you off about my site, or you were checking out my brilliance out of sheer curiosity, why should it bother you if i don’t directly reference you? once again, i am flattered that you checked me out and i pissed you off. now i know for sure that there are more people checking out my page other than my grandmother. yeah, that’s right. this website is so hot, even my grandma is hittin’ that shit.

so, as for the bottom line…read my thoughts, get bent, and then get over it. and put a sock in it. i will not delete my creativity over something so minuscule. i will revise some things, but at my own discretion. read at your own risk…no one said this was website was going to be an easy pill to swallow. in the famous words of abraham lincoln, “you can please some of the people all of the time, you can please all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time”. nicely put. but i like renee’s version, “you can please all of the people some of the time, or you can piss everyone off at the same time so they pour sugar in your gas tank.” i should have been a poet…and the nation’s sixteenth president.

the penny vs. snakes on a mother fuckin’ plane. both badasses. both going down in history.

i am a bitch. straight up. but, i am also one of the funniest/nicest bitches around. last night, someone would not leave me alone. after ignoring this annoyance, he would still not leave me alone. i really did try to ignore him, but come on guys, that only lasts so long. so here is where the hilarity ensues. highlights from last night:

drunk guy: hey, honey? (ugh, don’t call me honey. call me cuntrag…anything but honey.)

me: what do you want?

dg: when can i have another beer?

me: at eleven.

dg: it’s 10:45.

me: great. it’s still not eleven. let’s practice some self control.

dg: i’m not even drunk.

me: really? let’s witness exhibit A. (i get his credit card receipt and show it to him.)

dg: what? i have bad hand writing.

me: it’s not the kindergartner on meth handwriting that i’m concerned with. you didn’t even sign your name in the right spot.

dg: oh.

me: so, i think you need to chill.

dg: so, how about that beer?

me: dude. you are like something that’s really annoying that won’t go away. you, my friend, are like a herpes infection.

(the guy looks at me with a blank look.)

me: yeah, i said it.

later in the evening, he thinks he is something fierce and decides to ask me to party with him sometime. i decline. he asks, “what, do you have a boyfriend?” umm, no. i, instead, tell him that i am married. his response: “oh, wow, that sucks. well, you’re still hot, anyway.” oh. thanks. because if i was married, that would for sure knock me down a few pegs on the physically appealing scale. dumbass.

bathroom stall literature is always a hit in my book. not only does it give me something to read while my bladder empties itself, but it keeps me up on all the good gossip, as well. for instance, this one stall i was in was full of good, redneck information. while urinating, i learn that gary has a small dick. great. i don’t know who gary is, but the next time i come across a guy named gary, i will automatically think back to the literature about him in the bathroom stall. as my eyes venture around the stall some more, i see a continuation on gary. not only does he have a small dick, he’s dirty, too. ahh, gary. the small, dirty dick man. good to know. (there was a last name mentioned in the stall, but for privacy’s sake, i am not going to mention it on my website. if anyone is going to gain popularity on here, it better be me…not “gary,” the small, dirty dick man.) i also learn that erik (last name also deleted) has herpes. wait, if this guy is cool enough to spell his name with a “k” at the end, he should be too cool for herpes. but i guess not. amongst the other random “i love so and sos…” i notice yet another angry scribble, “dale has STDs.” good to know, as well. i will not be going on any dates with someone named dale. “sorry, dale, but the bathroom stall told me this isn’t going to work out between us.”

i guess when you look at it, the bathroom stall is the best place to rant and rave and have your voice be heard. a million drunk chicks are going to either sympathize with you while they are puking and holding their hair back, or they will be thanking you for the words of advice. i know that if something devastating happens to me, i will surely enscribe it on the bathroom wall. you bet your ass if i contract the clap from some dirt bag, i am going to tell that bathroom stall…and that bathroom stall will tell the world.

but on another related note, i think someone should write something useful on the bathroom wall, something educational. maybe put up a multiplication table, or recite some shakespeare. if i am going to be reading something while hovering over a toilet in a public place, i would appreciate it if it would enhance my intellect. name all of the u.s. presidents leading up to 1946, or explain to me in detail how to split an atom. education is the key to a brighter future. let’s start spreading it across every bathroom stall in america. presidents can’t even come up with better education programs than this. that’s it…i am running for president in 2012.

(note: this is not the same stall that i peed in…but this one does look like it contains a lot of useless and entertaining information.)