KMart and the ever anonymous Anonymous Coworker are planning the new Baltimore Blogger Happy Hour.

Actually, sort of seems like ACW is doing all the planning, but, whatever, go and vote, then go here and try to figure out what “your” ACW thinks is supposed to be “you’re.” Personally, I think he’s finally cracking.

Unless you desire the chance to possibly be spotlighted on headline news, fill one of these out:

I,______________________________(fill in the blank), being of sound mind and body, do not wish to be kept alive indefinitely by artificial means. Under no circumstances should my fate be put in the hands of peckerwood politicians who couldn’t pass ninth-grade biology if their lives depended on it.

If a reasonable amount of time passes and I fail to sit up and ask for a cold beer (or a dish of ice cream) it should be presumed that I won’t ever get better. When such a determination is reached, I hereby instruct my spouse, children and attending physicians to pull the plug, reel in the tubes and call it a day.

Under no circumstances shall the members of the Legislature enact a special law to keep me on life support machinery. It is my wish that these boneheads mind their own damn business and pay attention instead to the health, education and future of the millions of Americans who aren’t in a permanent coma.

Under no circumstances shall any politicians butt into this case and I don’t care how many fundamentalist votes they’re trying to scrounge for their run for the presidency in 2008. It is my wish that they play politics with someone else’s life and leave me alone to die in peace.

I couldn’t care less if a hundred religious zealots send e-mails to legislators and pretend that they care about me. I don’t know these people and I certainly haven’t authorized them to preach and crusade on my behalf. They should mind their own business, too.

If any of my family goes against my wishes and turns my case into a political cause, I hereby promise to come back from the grave and make his or her existence a living hell.

___________________________ Date:___________

HT –> The Bull Speaks.

The new kid’s middle name is “Zebulon.”

My taxes are done. Have, in fact, been done. State is already in the mail with a nice $200 check. Federal I keep putting off (gotta re-write a new form, all nice like) … I need to call that number on instruction fifty, give ‘em my Discover card number, get raped for $400 bucks, write down the code, mail in the form … was gonna do it today, now I need to get out the door before I’m late for work.

You know what I don’t get? The people — aka, Coworker Robin — who are like, “Oh, it’s better to owe Uncle Sam money at the end of the year, because that way they don’t earn interest on your cash.” Who gives a shit? I’d rather Uncle Sam made a few pennies off my measley tax return then my spending time trying to figure out where in the name of Zeus’ Butthole I’m to find six-hundred bucks I don’t need.

I would much rather overpay and get dinero back, then underpay and have to find the dinero to send. Right? I’m kind of pissed, because, dammit, if I didn’t have to send in that money to state, I could have mailed in my car payment already. BY THE FIFTH OF THE MONTH. I’d be so fucking ahead on my bills for the month, hit May with a runnin’ fucking start.

Dear Dumb Bitch,

Stop being so fucking selfish and pull up to the car in front of you, rather than leaving a distance two car-lengths long in front of you. There are people who wish to get into the right-hand turn lane, and while I am not one of them, the reason my car is blocking them is because you’re too selfish to pull forward a little tiny bit. And, yes, if you’re wondering, that’s why I honked at you - twice. And, yes, I was oh so very intimidated by the dirty looks your boyfriend gave me. I wonder if he ever thinks, “I’m dating a stupid bitch?” Because all the time I was behind you, I was thinking, “He’s dating a stupid bitch.”

Later,

-Asshole Who Kept Honking At You