So yeah, it’s been all over the news that Tiger Woods has been humping his way across the nation.  I haven’t said anything about it because I didn’t care.  Well, that’s not true.  I guess I care a little bit because I am appalled at how many people are blaming the women he was with.  Because those people who talk about those women?  They’re motherfucking stupid.  Those women are not the cheaters, asshats.  Tiger chose to cheat on his wife.  And excuse me while I get a huge chuckle out of the fact that she started swinging a golf club upon finding out.  Any woman worth her salt that found out her husband was fucking around and didn’t lose their shit for a second…please.  You are required by law to lose your mind for a moment.  Not forever, mind you, just a moment.  Because that particular kind of pain cuts deep into your heart and your brain and losing your shit is needed to get yourself re-wired to move on.  It’s the women (and men, since women cheat, too) that don’t lose their minds that worry me.  Anyway, Tiger Woods is a dog that cheated on his wife and the world is all in a tizzy.  I don’t buy the bullshit story that he’s all hurt and remorseful.  He’s just bummed out that he got caught.  And that it’s probably going to cost him a shit-ton of money in endorsements (and divorce payments).

My biggest concern through this whole thing…

What the hell are these two women holding between their legs?  It’s driving me batshit because I have no idea what the hell those metal things are.  Anybody know?

In other news…

I got a new bag.  I’ve waited to use it a while before I announced to the world how I feel about it.  It’s the Franco Sarto Big Top Tote (this bitch is HUGE) and I love it.  Mine is navy blue.

I also decided against the hooker boots and went for something that I know works for me.  Tall Uggs.  Love them.

Julie is hating Christmas because the tree is in front of her favorite heating vent.  Heh.

Felina is freezing.  This is her waiting for someone to sit down so they can keep her warm.  I’m dead serious.  She hates her sweaters, even though she needs them and prefers to be cuddled.  Precious.  Barf.

And now I have to go because I’m working on this.  It’s a Christmas present that I’m MAKING (OMG!).  Don’t you love how I printed the picture off of the internet and made it without a pattern?  I am the queen of Tack ASS.  And I’ll be impressed if any of you know who this is.

I’m outta here.