In Case You Haven't Noticed...

The fun and frivolity of Bagwine Ruminations have moved.

Matt-Man and Jayman have long since hooked up into a sordid, Crying Game type internet relationship and are now together, spreading the funny and bodily fluids as one.

Check them out over at I'm With Stupid

by

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Cheers!! 

Happy Birthday Ryno!!

Jay and Matt-Man's Saturday edition of the I’m With Stupid radio started out with the intention of having a Self-Pity Party. 

But, circumstances changed and it ended up being most a rather awkward, yet endearing birthday celebration for The Creepy Kid Next Door.

CKND (aka Matt's son Ryno) called in, and as a surprise, Matt-Man had arranged to have a beautiful young lady with the voice of an angel also call in so she could sing “Happy Birthday.” 

It was a very special moment. Even if she is probably STILL shaking her head trying to figure just who the hell they are what that show was all about.

Then her mom called as did Mike AKA: “Mr. Excitement” and they shot the breeze for the rest of the show. So, instead of being depressing, the show will actually put a smile on your face. And when it comes down to it, that's all they want to do.

Hell, I even chimed in and was virtually phone raped...It was HOT!!

Give it a listen:

Listen to internet radio with Im With Stupid on Blog Talk Radio

Zoooooves,

Schmoop

Focusing On the Flat Earth

The earth is flat.

How do I know, you ask?  I presume it to be true, and seriously?

Flat fits nicely into my linear world.

Impulse to impulse.

Speculation to speculation.

Presumption to presumption.

You see, my flat world is tiny and one-dimensional.  

I have to compartmentalize.  

I have to assume,

Because, well…

My world, as I said, is tiny.

It hasn’t space for open-ended thought or possibility.

I prefer to keep on the straight and narrow, and focus…

Even if I am focusing on the wrong target.

After all, I wouldn’t want to focus on myself, now would I?

--MM 2011

The Matt-Meat Is Mine

I know you have all heard by now, that the Matt-Man and I are engaged.

I just wanted you all to know that I appreciate your congratulations, and your condolences…Jay.

Anyhoo, this has been a long time coming, and I just decided to take the bull by the horns, and or Matt by the balls, and propose myself.

For God’s sake, it’s been eleven years! I could not take it anymore!

We’ve had our problems, our “situations” as it were. However, we will always come back to each other, or something.

We have always loved each other, and we are best friends no matter what.

I am sorry for the number of women that thought they had a chance…

You never did.

Also, the ring we chose was my Mother’s ring. 

Not her three different wedding rings, (my sister got those, along with HER),but a ring that had more meaning. Dad used to use this ring as a binder for his pipes. No shit!

When he found out Mom gave it to me at the age of sixteen, he had a fit!

More meaning for me! Whoo! Love the Momma.

I’ll try to post more often, and please bear with me, I’m new at this engaged thing. Ha! That whole living together thing.

I’m a virgin dammit! Bwaahaaa!

Zoooooves!!

Sofia Vergara Rocks My World

Sure I'm a chick, but Sofia Vergara kinda makes me hot...

I mean what's not to like?

Those pics are nearly as sexy as the picture of my bush...

And if you want to see more pics of a couple of uber-hotties, click HERE

Zoooooves!!

From The Desk of I'm With Stupid...

Hey you…Yeah, you. Remember me? It’s me, Michele Bachmann…Nothing?

I’m a Tea Party drinking, government bashing, Republican congresswoman from Minnesota and I’m running for President. Now do you remember?

I see that some of you are now shaking your heads, but it would be more helpful if you were shaking them in an up and down fashion and not side to side, but…um…

Fuck…I knew this was going to happen.

Less than a month after I win the GOP Straw Poll in Iowa, the devilishly handsome, well-chiseled, Rick Perry enters the GOP Primary race and I’m tossed aside like a half eaten can of tuna in favor of a prime piece of Texas ribeye.

This sucks. AND IT’S NOT FAIR!!

I’ve been giving and giving. Traipsing along the campaign trail loudly espousing nonsensical, anti-government rhetoric, and what do I get in return?

Heartache…and single digit poll numbers.

From the Halls of Minnetonka to the shores of Biloxi, I have fought your anti-tax battles on the air, and land, and sea. And then what?

Rootin-Tootin’ Rick Perry enters the race, out anti-government rhetoricals me, and out sexy corn dog eatin’s me. WTF?

I’m Michele Bachmann dammit…Glad to meet ya!!

Listen folks, I know how to eat a damn corndog in a sexy way…

Hell, even my allegedly gay husband Marcus, can be sexy when tossing back a dawg…

Okay…I guess he does look gay when he does it. But he’s not, so shut up. My husband is as straight as they come. He’s as straight as the Minnesota winter is long.

Now, take a look at Gov. Perry eating a corndog…

Talk about someone who seems to know his way around a shaft of meat. I’m not saying Perry’s gay, but c’mon, if Hermann Goehring was alive, he’d have that picture blown up and placed on the ceiling over his bed.

Anyway…This entire situation and Rick Perry blow. Hell, even my campaign staff is leaving me, all because of a goddamn corndog.

Maybe at some point during the NBC/Politico GOP Debate at the Ronald Reagan Library tomorrow night, I’ll unleash a new campaign song.

Oh I wish I were an Oscar Meyer wiener, that is what I truly want to be, ’cause if I were an Oscar Meyer wiener, then everyone would be in love with me!!

I think I’m on to something. And if not..?

I’ll just give Rick Perry a lil’ taste of my “corndog eating” skills, and become his running mate.

Trust me my fellow Americans, being vacuous is not my only skill. When it comes to choking down a dawg or two, this bitch got skillz.

See ya at the debate tomorrow,

Michele Bachmann

Just Sayin'

Just so you know…I haven’t abandoned this blog.

I just don’t have to much to say right now.

I’m alive.

Matt-Man is alive.

He is a multi-media superstar you know.

I don’t want to talk about what is going on here, as it is very personal. No I did not cheat, but that’s all you’re getting.

I asked him not to put it out there, so neither am I.

Things will be sporadic, until I can get the funny back, and funny it will be. I hope.

Just wanted to let you pretty people know, that this is a work in progress. We are a work in progress.

I am buying Dick Cheney’s book, and getting on the Michele Bachman bandwagon, if that’s any indication.

What? I think she’s got potential...just sayin'.

Zoooooves!!

The End

I guess all good things come to an end, and that's fine, however...

I hate when they come to an end and I don't now why.

--Matt

My Lot in Life

I took a career survey recently to find out what kind of job suits me.

The results came up with the following.

Zoo Keeper…

Their Definition: You can only handle a baby spider monkey, a parakeet, and a teeny, tiny kitteh. This is pushing it.

Cheap Beer Taster…

Their Definition: You have the palate of a twelve year old, also the mind.

Key Finder…

Their Definition: Can find keys. Duh.

Cook...

Their Definition: You can heat up frozen chicken patties, and add cheese. The cheese part is subjective.

This explains a lot.

Zoooooves!!

The Touch of Rust

I don’t have much today pretty people. As you know the weekend sucked, thanks to yours truly. I thank you all for your comments. You guys rock!

Also, Friday morning, my computer at work decided to evidentially get the virus from the pits of hell, and blew the fuck up.

It’s less than a year old, but I must have the power to kill things. You know computers, feelings, etc.

Anyhoo, I can post from home, but I cannot log on to comment to anyone at work, just read. I have to wait until I get home to respond to anyone, so don’t think I’m ignoring you.

The computer I’m using has password protect bullshit on it. Who the fuck does that? Oh, you computer savvy people do? Well, La De Da.

So I thank you all, and hope to get back to the funny, instead of the fucked up real soon.

Zooooves!!

Preemptive Strike

Have you ever loved someone so much, that you keep pushing them away because you’re scared?

Well I have, and I continue to do so.

I met my soul mate eleven years ago. I didn’t know you could actually have one of those.

Yet I, being an asshole, shut him out.

Why? Good question.

I do it because I’m afraid of being hurt. Strike first, apologize later.

The apologies aren’t working anymore. And well, they shouldn’t.

You can only say you’re sorry to someone who loves you so many times before it becomes ineffective…a bad salve if you will.

I need to open my heart more, instead of shutting if off. Yes, I am afraid, always have been, but I am the one who said I love you first. I have to live up to my game.

I love you Matt.

I know you are skeptical. You have every right to be.

Know this, I will never have to say I’m sorry again. Unless I fuck up your fantasy football thingy while trying to “help” you.

Zoooooves!!

One On a Leash, and One Still in the Doghouse

I wanted everyone to know that I let the boys off the hook.

Well, Jay anyway. Matt-Man is still in the doghouse.

Why? Because he is the instigator of course.

Also, I couldn’t keep being mad what with all of Jay’s weeping. He even called me at work, sobbing. Sobbing people!! I couldn’t take it anymore.

So have a great weekend, and don’t forget to listen to “I’m With Stupid” on Blog Talk Radio, Saturday at 6:30 PM EDT.

The topic this week is phobias. I think we all have a few of those, so call in with yours at 661-244-9852.

Actually, Matt-Man asked me to list mine, but I ran out of paper, and the show is only 30 minutes.

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got today. Mainly because it’s the end of the week, and I just don’t care.

Oh, a shout out to my big brother Dave. Happy 58th dude!

Zoooooves!!

With Friends Like These...

I have two “friends” that make fun of me all the time. They say they aren’t, that it’s all fun, that they love me, and all that disingenuous, craptastic bullshit.

I mean, with friends like these, you don’t need enemies.

Everyone knows them. They’re famous. One lives with me, and one lives in this box they call a computer.

That’s right, my two “friends” are Matt-Man, and Jayman from the I’m With Stupid radio show, and blog.

I should be used to being abused like this. I’ve never been what you’d call bright. I got picked on a lot. Especially when I got boobs in the 4th grade. By boobs, I don’t mean that I needed a training bra. I was 10 and needed a BRA.

Hell, my oldest brother would always tell me growing up that I was adopted. He sometimes still does. Or better yet, tells me I’m the milk man’s daughter.  My own sainted Mother would sometimes play along with it too. Or was she playing?

My brother David used to have neighborhood kids pay a quarter when I was a baby because I was a large baby, and my arms, and legs looked like twisted circus balloons. No joke.

Where the hell were my parents?

Who am I kidding. Dad was at work or at the bar, and since I was the sixth kid, Mom didn’t give two hoots. Joke people, I was her favorite, but obviously not at this time!

Sorry, I got off on a tangent....A tangent of pain. Where was I?

Oh yeah, my so called friends.

I don’t have many friends, so I just assumed the ones I did have liked me for me, quirkiness and all. I guess I was mistaken, and I am once again a small child reliving all the taunts, and being a pox on society.

I really don’t understand. I think they are the funniest, most talented, good looking guys out there in blog/radio land.

Ah well, back to hiding in the shadows of my severe mediocrity. Sigh.

Laugh clown, laugh.

Just kidding! These guys are assholes!

PS: I was totally not kidding about the family/childhood thing.

Zoooooves!!

Number Nine

I spent an hour and a half Tuesday afternoon, counting to nine, 200 times.

Why you ask? 

Because I guess collation done by a professional printer isn’t as good as collation done by a loser flunky.

That’s all I can figure anyway.

Nine, Nine, Nine, Nine…

I was feeling under the weather on Monday, so I took the day off, and decided to look up my symptoms on the web. Shut up, you do it too!

I think I had a small bout of Malaria. 

Even though I’ve never been to Africa, Asia, or Latin America. I haven’t been bitten by any mosquitoes this year. 

Hell I haven’t been outside except to go to work, the grocery, and the Beer Mine.

Maybe I should have been shopping for quinine? Note to self: Buy quinine.

I didn’t have a lot of the symptoms, but I had some.

Matt-Man probably brought it home from some King Cobra buying degenerate. One of the customers that didn’t want a bag. If you know what I’m saying.

I so could’ve had Malaria! The 24 hour kind. Hypochondriacs, and people with anxiety disorders should never, ever Google symptoms of anything.

Nine, Nine, Nine, Nine…

Zoooooves!!

I Got Nothing But Drivel

I went back thru an old journal this week. Have you ever done that? 

Seriously, what drivel. I mean...the angst, the stupid, the…in my case, idiocy.

Was this journal from my teen years? No, my thirties. Mid to late thirties.

I read this stuff, and thought, what are you fifteen? Hell, I think fifteen was easier. Outside of the eighties hair, and the peg leg jeans. What? You had them. Unless you’re younger than me, and in that case, suck it!

Excerpt…

“I was thinking today would be a good day, but I was wrong. What is wrong with my life? Why do I let things affect me so?”

For real?

I’d rather read the teenage years. Now that was angst! That was drama!

For God’s sake, I’m an adult, I have bills, I have love, I have an apartment to clean.

I want your stories. Why? So I don’t feel anymore stupid than I already do.

Give them up.

Zooooves!!

My Uterus

So here we are back together again on a fucking Monday.

I know Mike...everyday is Saturday to you. At least here in Ohio, we don’t have that freaky arch. Shivers, ick.

How was your weekend? Mine you ask? Well thank you...

It was good. Except…none of my open letters, prayers, or the freaking goat sacrifices were enough to keep Syd from coming to town.

Upon the suggestion of my bestest friend from New York, Dianne, (even though she lives in Jersey, don’t judge, she’s still a Yankees fan.), I have re-named my uterus Ursula.

Anyhoodle, I still had a great weekend. Lots of debauchery, in the form of “I’m With Stupid” on Blog Talk Radio. If you haven’t listened to this show, you’re stupid, and to take a line from Ryno, so’s your FACE.

Lots, and lots of drinking, and a stupid bitch on a motorized scooter at the local Kroger trying her damn best to kill me. 

Why yes, I was drunk at 11:30 Saturday morning doing my shopping. This totally explains that kumquat in the fridge.

Seriously, she just would cut me off, and stare like it was her God given right. Bizarre.

Other than the fact that I woke up on Sunday in desperate need of a Bloody Mary, a good time was had by all. By all, I mean me. That’s all that really matters right? Me. Of course.

I dare you to disagree. Don’t fuck with Ursula. Really, don’t. I tried it once…shudder.

Zooooves!!

An Open Letter To My Uterus

Dear Syd,

I have a favor to ask of you. Oh, I know we’ve never gotten along in the past, but can’t we let bygones, be bygones?

The thing is, Matt-Man and I have these fucked up work schedules, and we never get to see each other except for Friday and Saturday nights.

Also, as you know, I have a sleeping issue.

Oh sure, we have a good time drinking and catching up with each other’s week, and shit like that. However…

Naked Twister needs to be played up here in the crib…if you know what I mean.

Also, I’d really not like to feel like a major failure for once, as you come at really inconvenient times.

Today is the beginning of the weekend, and you are due any motherfucking minute.

I beg of you, please hold out until Sunday?

I will be eternally grateful. I’ll even stop calling you names, and threatening to cut you out my own damn self with a rusty coat hanger.

Please?

Who am I kidding; you don’t care.

You’re not even listening, but I thought I’d give it a shot. You’ll do what you want; you always do. You suck! Kidding, kidding. Hee Hee?

But, I do need to do the horizontal mambo with my man, so just wait it out, or Ima cut a bitch.

Yours in Christ,

Beth

Zoooooves!!

Bipolar Hilarity

Now that I’m over my little tantrum about work, for now, we’ll move on. Thank you all for your “suggestions”.

I really don’t have much, I’ve been super busy not pushing “certain” people in front of buses. That’s hard work, yo!

Randomness will commence.

What the hell is up with the MDA? No Jerry Lewis this year? Just because he was going to retire after this year? 

So they say he can’t even sing whatever that song is that he sings? 

Also, only six hours this year? 

God, I do love the question mark.

He’s been doing this shit for 45 fucking years! Couldn’t they at least wait until he was dead?

Shit. I gotta watch that…

See, Matt-Man and my brother swear I killed Lee Marvin. All I said when we were talking about his movies, was that I thought he was dead. Well, he was…two days later.

If I had that kind of power, no one would be left! I’m not God people. Just God-like, Jeez.

I think I might be bipolar. So low, and angry yesterday, and so happy, and high today. Hmmmm…could also be PMS I suppose. What are you looking at? Are you judging me? Gee, you’re pretty ;)

Note to self…buy more beer.

That’s all I got. Have a good one pretty people, or you know, don’t.

One more thing, I may have been born at night, but it sure as fuck wasn’t last night.

Keep that in mind.

Damn, you’re all pretty. You suck!

Zooooves!!

Take This Job and Shove It, but Let Me Keep It

Have you ever been so motherfucking angry, that you wanted to walk away from a job you so desperately need to pay your bills?

That was me Tuesday. Oh, and Monday.

I normally keep everything in. One, because I’m used to the situation, and my boss. Two, because I have to have this job. In this economy I’d be hard pressed to find another one, especially at my age.

Three…I’ve been here for ten years.

This is all kinds of fucked up.

It’s not like I make a fortune. Hell, I haven’t had a raise in nine years, but the man helped me out a lot when I got in trouble with money, but…

I should know by now that he just he just cares about himself.

You think I’m kidding about finding his shit? You would be wrong.

I’ve been in Administration for over 25 years. I know what I’m doing. Why must he question every step? Why do I let him make me so mad?

Truth be told, who do I let him make my cry? I’m not a crier people. Old fucking Yeller doesn’t make me cry, but damn. So frustrating.

I know he does this every once in a while, you know like once a month. Huh, now, that I think about it…he has PMS! No he doesn’t.

He’s turning 67 on Thursday, he wants total control, even though he says he wants to turn shit over. 

I guess this time…he just got to me.

I just wanted to say, “Look, I’m going home now. Let’s see how you fair by yourself for the rest of the day.”

My home phone would be ringing off the hook. The man just does not realize what the fuck I do for him.

He did tell me today that when he dies, he wants to be in the casket with his cell phone, so he can bother me! I didn’t laugh.

This is why I drink. Well, no, no it’s not, but you get my drift, right?

Well, I feel better now. Fuck this shit, right? Right!?

I’m good.

Zooooves!!

Even If It's Not Free, It's For Me

Why do people feel like they are entitled to something, anything, everything?

Case and point…  

I’m at the grocery on Saturday with my brother Dave.  He’s pushing the cart, and as he is old, could not keep up with my 45 year old svelte, young self.  Ha!

I’m going into the produce section for lettuce, and green onions.  Don’t ask.  There I came upon a woman and her daughter at the grapes.  

They’ve opened a bag, and proceeded to eat them.   Not tasting to see if they were sweet enough, just…plain…eating them.

My Mother, God rest her soul, would taste one, much to my embarrassment, and buy them if they were up to her standards.  Buy being the operative word.  

This woman didn’t buy a fucking grape; she just munched them like it was her motherfucking right!  Who does this shit?

And then...

I was told a story Saturday by the lovely, talented woman who runs the U-Scan at my local Kroger.  I heart her.

A man who comes in regularly, decides that the salad bar is a free for all.  

This dude is not putting fixings into a plastic container to pay for like he’s supposed to.  Oh no, he is fucking eating right off the salad bar!

The produce manager comes out, and says, “You can’t do that."  

This dude says, and I quote from the lovely, talented woman...

“Why not, you young whippersnapper?  I’ll kick your fucking ass.”

Really?  WTF!

Why do some people think they are entitled to do whatever they want?

I was very vocal about the grape woman.  She paid no mind, of course.

What the hell is wrong with people?  Am I just noticing this shit as I get older?  Has this been going on all along, and I didn’t care?

More than likely, but still I say, what the ever loving fuck!

Thank God I wasn’t at Walmart.  The smell alone keeps me away from that place.

Zooooves!!