Sammy Boy is having a rough week this week. As such, Key and I are patrolling the perimeter for him, just in case, just to keep his seat warm.

So, be warned. It ain't Sammy blogging, so when you sling shit at me, make sure you spell my name right. And make sure you duck, because it's coming back at you with interest, about three times as fast as you orignally launched it, and sporting a little english. I'm one tired and pissed-off cracker bitch tonight, and I ain't in the mood.

Moving along: I watch very little television these days. We got rid of our cable six months or so ago, for financial reasons, and now that the financial crunch is a thing of the past my husband and I are toying with the idea of having the cable turned back on.

I was all for it, until I actually bestirred myself to watch one of the local stations that our upstairs television picks up from downtown Atlanta. CBS, I think it was, and during a one-hour show, I was informed twice on every commercial break that I qualify for Ford's new family discount. Seriously, by the end of that hour, I could have recited the specifics of that bloody deal to you by rote, word for fucking word.

I'll be in the market for a vehicle next year, maybe two. I'll tell you one thing, though: I will NOT be buying a got-damn Ford. Their overkill backfired; they annoyed the living piss out of me, and I might not ever buy another Ford product as long as I live.

So there.