At the shelter, over two thirds of the women were Muslim. The rest of us were a motley assortment of addicts, mental cases, and abused wives. As for which area I fit into - fuck you!

But I digress.

Several hundred young Muslims were in attendance when the Chinese Muslim preacher Husain Yee defended the right of Muslim men to beat their wives at a Muslim conference this past weekend.

It’s inherent. So when a woman - say from Somalia - gets to Canada, she realizes that there is a way out from her horrible marriage. She has rights she never had before. She (probably) won’t be killed for fleeing her husband. Hence the reason I was eating halal goat three nights a week. Despite my longing for a pork chop, it’s hard to begrudge it.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently!

Ok, I’ve been on the diet for 5 days, and adhering closely for just three. But I’ve already lost 1.25″ off my waist. I’m very pleased. Those jeans I bought last month and didn’t have time to return? They’ll fit by next week.

Many thanks to the Diet Solution Program. I weigh in on Saturday, so I’ll keep y’all apprised.

Which is more than we can say for the Canadian left.

Blond, mouthy and weighing about the same as Ms. Coulter, Bug proudly poses with the official Coulter Over Canada tour shirt. She may have left the country, but the controversy continues. Word on the street - there are still a few of these now historic shirts left in stock.

Thinking you’ve seen that shirt somewhere before? You have:

…another Islamic bombing of a transit system. This time in Moscow. If they want so badly to live in 7th Century caves, why do they keep venturing out into the 21st Century world?

The culprits this time are the Black Widows - Chechnya’s burka babes with an axe to grind. You may remember them from such hits as A Night At the Ballet.

If I were Medvedev, my call to my people would be: If it’s wearing a burka, shoot it on site and hope to god it isn’t armed with a dead-man switch. Then again, they don’t let me run the weasel-named “war on terror”, it would be called a “war on Islam”, which is exactly what it is. Hitler slaughtered 6 million Jews because he didn’t like banks. Yet Muslims indiscriminately kill people in the name of their moon-god, and we’re not even allowed to call the problem by its real name? I think this problem goes deeper than banking, don’t you?

The Daily Mail has a roundup of information and startling images like the one above. There hasn’t been a lot of coverage of this since the wee small hours, which concerns me, given Russia’s proclivity for burying news.

One passenger told the RIA news agency: ‘I was in the middle of the train when somewhere in the first or second carriage there was a loud blast. I felt the vibrations reverberate through my body.

‘People were yelling like hell. There was a lot of smoke and in about two minutes everything was covered in smoke.’

Another called Alexei added: ‘I was moving up on the escalator when I heard a loud bang, a blast. A door near the passage way arched, was ripped out and a cloud of dust came down on the escalator.

‘People started running, panicking, falling on each other,’ he said.

…this doesn’t surprise me in the least.

‘There’s no doubt the 24-hour drinking culture has meant that people are attending A&E [Accident & Emergency] drunk, particularly at the weekend. It’s very frightening for staff working there and other patients.’

An annual total of £60,000 pays for four officers to cover the department at the Glasgow Royal Infirmary and the city’s Western Infirmary.

The spokeswoman said the trust had set up ‘the most comprehensive violence and aggression policy in Scotland’ in 2005 which included CCTV and freephone lines direct to local police stations.

She continued: ‘Through our violence and aggression policy we offer staff the opportunity to complete a City and Guilds Certificate in dealing with aggression.

‘As a last resort, staff are able to withhold treatment from a patient who is persistently violent or aggressive.’

I’m actually against the idea of withholding treatment, due to the liability (not that there’s much liability in public healthcare - good luck suing the government). I’m more in favor of sedating against the will, as I’ve seen this done when I was receptionist in a mental day hospital. A nurse with a syringe of thorazine is more powerful than a cop with a billy club. More helpful, too.

Frankly, you’ve got to wonder about the wisdom of 24-hour drinking in a country that’s made football rioting it’s national pastime. The weather is bad, the drinks are cheap and plentiful, people are unemployed - it’s a recipe for violent, aggressive assholes hurting themselves and each other, and continuing to be violent aggressive assholes in the hospital emergency room.

I will be curled up in Bed of Bliss™, watching Ann Coulter on The Michael Coren Show (from last Tuesday - I still haven’t watched it), while downstairs all the incandescent lights will be on and there will be steaks in the George Foreman Grill.

Edison worked hard at his experiments, and gave us light. I for one do not take that for granted, or shun it, as others might in their quest to put us all back in caves.

I’ve learned what it’s like to live without. I know about being cold and hungry. Like Scarlett, I’m never going to let it happen again, nor will I take for granted the minds that gave me light, or a computer, or the internet, or the George Foreman Grill.

So tell me: Will you be shunning Edison (and George Foreman), or will you be celebrating the mind of man?

And not a moment too soon. See, the thing with these petty tyrant radio dictators is that they get *thisclose* to success before they have a massive temper tantrum and fuck the whole thing up. Believe me, I know.

I am laughing my ass off, with vicious delight.

I’m too old and tired for ego. But I have some great news coming on Monday… Stay tuned!

From the “You can’t make this shit up” file…

FEMALE suicide bombers are being fitted with exploding breast implants which are almost impossible to detect, British spies have reportedly discovered.

The shocking new al-Qaeda tactic involves radical doctors inserting the explosives in women’s breasts during plastic surgery — making them “virtually impossible to detect by the usual airport scanning machines”.

It is believed the doctors have been trained at some of Britain’s leading teaching hospitals before returning to their own countries to perform the surgical procedures.

I see a future where the fat sweaty mall cops of the TSA get their jollies checking for bombs…

Somalia’s al Shabaab rebels have taken over radio stations in the cities under their control and often detain the few independent journalists who have not fled the country, reporters and rights groups say.
Heh.

Great piece by Steve Forbes for Fox News (Opinion)

As hard as it may be to believe, McChesney and his indefatigable band of media revolutionaries are being taken seriously by some policymakers in Washington. They are granted regular audiences with those overseeing our nation’s media policy at the FCC and FTC, and meeting regularly with members of Congress.

Their latest plan to defacto nationalize the media calls for the federal government to bail out newspapers with $60 billion in new government subsidies. As anyone familiar with Washington knows, money does not come free: Such subsidies will virtually invite the government into the fourth estate as overseers. Richard Nixon must be rubbing his eyes in disbelief. But Free Press tells us not to worry. Such media reform will have safeguards in place to protect the freedom of the press from government influence.

Which means in a year or so, Forbes won’t be able to write such an opinion for Fox News, as it will be critical of Herr Obama.

We’ve seen leftist interference in the media here in Canada - for example, the Mark Steyn/Maclean’s debacle. Taking a privately owned magazine before “human rights” panelists because you were unable to personally force them to publish a rebuttal to something you didn’t agree with - despite your letter to the editor being printed.

In the US, such a crackdown doesn’t appear necessary - at this time. Right now, the bulk of the press continue to fawn over Obama, hanging on his every word, defending his every stupidity and pushing his every agenda. There are few holdouts - Fox News is one of them, and is routinely discounted by the other networks as being a “tool of the GOP”. Ironic, since ABC has actually been a tool of the Obama administration.

But most galling in light of Free Press’ assurances that we have nothing to worry about by inviting the feds into the media business, is McChesney’s defense of Chavez’s crackdown on opposition media in Venezuela. Regarding Venezuelan broadcaster RCTV, a persistent Chavez critic whose license was revoked by the president himself, McChesney suggests that if the station were broadcasting in the United States, “its license would have been revoked years ago,” and that “its owners would likely have been tried for criminal offenses, including treason.”

Wh-whut? Treason? Please. If we couldn’t charge Michael Moore with treason in the lead up to the 2004 election - or any other time, really - what makes this McChesney fellow think a TV station would get charged?

Treason is a very serious charge in the United States, and it carries a big penalty - the kind of penalty that causes lights to dim. Even Timothy McVeigh wasn’t charged with treason (though he was still fried, and good riddance). McChesney and his “free press” are suggesting anyone who doesn’t agree with the great Obama be charged with treason?

Please, oh please, tell me this fellow isn’t being taken too seriously by the FCC bureaucrats?

Muslims Kill Pakistan Potato Trader For Not Embracing Islam; Christian Detained For Blasphemy

I’m not sure what upsets me more - the fact that a Christian was murdered, or the fact that he was a potato trader.

Both, I guess.

Rasheed Masih, 36, was allegedly murdered on March 9 by six Muslims with at least one axe in Punjab’s Khanewal district. Local Christians said the suspects are rival merchants who objected to Masih’s potato business and his devotion to Christianity.

Seriously? The potatoes offended them? Why do we let these people exist?

I’m a hefty girl. Pleasantly plump. Wide of girth. Pneumatic. Zaftig.

Aw hell, I’m fat. Who the fuck am I trying to kid?

So, er, why am I bothering to tell you this? Well, I mentioned it yesterday in a post about seeing an old boyfriend on the subway. Seriously, it was just in passing “…my weight has ballooned since my twenties…”

So today, it turns out I have an email waiting from me on behalf of some diet plan. They will give me the diet, gratis, if I put a link on my page (see sidebar) and track my progress on GOTR. Oh, and they’ll pay me. For the ad space, ostensibly.

Whatever. I’ve whored for less. And other than 80lbs of unwanted weight, what have I got to lose?

I read over the info. Pretty simple: Cutting out processed crap, food combining, and smart foods to improve metabolism.

Anyway, check it out, and check back here for developments. I start today. And no, I just don’t have the guts (pun totally intended) to tell you my actual weight.

As I check in with y’all, I will tell you pounds and inches LOST, not what the original ones are. It’s too degrading!

If you want to check out the diet, Click Here or click the ad on my sidebar.

For generations we’ve been bombarded with infantile ads about blue liquid leaking from our secret places, and how products will allow us to dance on the beach in white shorts.

I remember reading a joke once that went something like this.

Five poor ghetto kids from Chicago are out playing in the hot, dusty summer streets and find a $5 bill on the ground. They debate for a while about ice cream, popsicles, or other cooling summer treats. Finally one of them grabs the bill and takes off around the corner. A couple of minutes later he returns, triumphantly clutching a box of Tampax.

“What the hell you buy those for?” One of his playmates asks.

He holds out the box and says “Look - it says we can go swimming, horseback riding, play tennis…”

Kotex has finally cottoned on to the idea that we’ve never bought into their ridiculous celebratory ad campaigns the way the child in the joke did.

In a comment from Darcy in the previous post, I was asked if I had written of my recent adventures, as I said I would.

Yes, Darcy, I’ve written some. But it’s exceptionally painful, and sometimes I can only work on it a couple of hours a week. I need to keep walking away.

But here’s a very brief excerpt to whet your appetite:

Being as blind as I was – no glasses in Suicide Watch; you’ll poke your eye out! – I hadn’t seen my bed very clearly from where I was standing during the costume change. When I shuffled over to it, I realized it wasn’t a bed at all, but a metal tray built into a concrete bench. On the metal tray was a ¼” quilted “mattress” that wasn’t quite as long as my body, and folded at the bottom was an actual moving blanket.

Sitting down, I realized that although the thickness of my dress would prevent me twisting it up to hang myself with, its very weight meant that movement caused choking. It rode up in the front when I sat down, constricting my throat. Sweet irony.

I got up. Paced. Sat down again. I was exhausted, but didn’t foresee any sleep on my horizon. In addition to plain old fear, there was a roar of noise in my head. My thoughts were everywhere all at once. Andy, my impending homelessness, my friendship with Meredith – all the thoughts were coming at once. If only I had pen and paper, I could untangle some of these thoughts. I could make my head a little less crowded, and maybe get some sleep.

Pacing, I began to cry. My mind and body had had enough. I needed succor and sleep, and neither would be forthcoming. I needed Andy, and that was totally out of the question, probably forever. Over and over I whispered “I’m sorry,” as if enough of them would spin back the clock and make Andy un-hate me. “I’m sorry.”

Next to the stainless steel toilet was a nook in the wall that held folded sheets of toilet paper. I blew my nose, and the thin paper gave way, smearing my already filthy hands with snot. I took another tissue and wiped my fingers off.

But what was I sorry for? Well, that my husband had thought me so ill and reprehensible. Sorry that I had left him in 2007. Sorry that he’d rejected me when I returned in 2008. Sorry that I’d slept around. Sorry that I was crazy – crazy enough to have landed myself in the hospital a month earlier, on my birthday, with an overdose. Sorry that I always felt unloved, even when he loved me. Sorry that I pushed too hard and burned him out. Sorry that I wasn’t good enough for him – ever. I’d known that since the beginning. Sorry that we’d fought so much, and that I wanted to excise my pain by destroying our past, because he insisted we didn’t have a future.

Sorry that I was so useless to him. Since he’d banished me the year before, I’d been trying so hard to build my freelance writing business, but Andy didn’t feel that was real work. He said I needed to be making more money, that he couldn’t keep footing the bills. I reminded him that he wasn’t paying all the bills by himself – he was taking every penny I earned and putting it in his bank account. He called me a mooch, living off his welfare. He called me ugly, lazy, useless - I was sorry for being all these things.

It would be months before I would realize that I was apologizing for things I couldn’t control, like Andy’s feelings and opinions. It would take many sessions with therapists and social workers to realize what part of our destruction I was responsible for, and what part I was not.

How surreal it was. I was sitting on the subway heading south to my lunch with L, when I looked up from my Blackberry at St. George Station. Jeff. It had been over a dozen years since I’d seen him, but he was instantly recognizable.

I didn’t think he’d seen me, so I took the next 3 stops to study him. He’d gotten so old. His hair was nearly gray, and his face looked worn and jowly. Hard to believe he was only a couple of months older than I am.

As we pulled out of Queen’s Park station and back into the darkness of the tunnel, I caught sight of my own reflection and realized that I, too, am not 15 anymore. My neck is starting to hang, and my weight has ballooned since my early twenties.My eyesight is poorer than ever, and someday in the not too distant future my lovely breasts will lose their pertness. Ugh. Age.

Jeff and I are both still handsome people, only much older. My mind flashed back to the Jeff from half a lifetime ago. He still looked good… but. But. There had been so much effort expended over a high school romance. So much misplaced anguish over the death of my mother the previous year. So much… history. Jeff was a pre-Dad story. A life before I became Oliver Twist.

As I got up to leave the train at St Patrick, I caught his eye. He nodded and mouthed “Hi Wendy.” He had seen me all along.

I smiled, then turned my back to him and shook my head. Shrugging off the ghosts of the past, I exited the train.

Have you listened to the latest In Bed With RightGirl? You should. The sound is finally fixed! Get over there and have a listen!

UPDATE: Is this a threat? Bang bang? Sigh… the tolerant left…

anonymous

10:12 PM on March 23, 2010

This comment is hidden because you have chosen to ignore anonymous. Show DetailsHide Details

People and groups abuse the right to free speech. In sighting hate is free speech, should this be allowed? I say rip out the tongues of those of purposely insight hate among people or groups. As for Ann Coulter, her number’s up. Bye Bye hater, no one is going to miss you. Bang Bang.

CAPTION THIS!

Yesterday I provided tips on how to survive the cuts and scrapes that would normally take you to the emergency room. Today, let’s talk about surgery.

Unless it’s a dire emergency*, expect to wait up to a year for surgery. Things like hip, back and knee, cataracts and gall bladders are down at the bottom of the list. In the meantime, if pain becomes unmanageable, seek out mass quantities of oxycontin (this works for liberals and conservatives alike *Rush*). Rehab will now be free, so don’t worry about addiction.

Ok, so let’s say you win the surgery lottery and your faithful spouse drives you to the hospital the morning of. Here are some things you’ll need to know.

• Unless you are on a ventilator or traction, you will be discharged within an hour of waking up. For those of you with family members on ventilators, stay tuned for my upcoming “death panel” post about “the conversation”
• The above applies to surgery, births, C-sections, abortions and biopsies
• Have someone there to drive you home
• Have someone stay with you for the first 48 hours in case of massive bleeding or unconsciousness.
• Have that oxy prescription in hand for the pain
• For women who have aborted, miscarried or given birth: you’re not done passing things yet. Don’t panic, it’s natural. Have heavy pads on hand, drink rosehip tea to reduce cramping, and have a hot water bottle to reduce pain. Take aspirin for the inflammation, and check your temperature every hour for signs of infection. Should you become infected, go to a different hospital than the one you were “bounced**” from.
• Neosporin is your friend. Apply to sutures and cover with clean gauze twice daily. Yes, you have to buy your own supplies, as discussed yesterday. Expect minor infection in suture site. Lance with one of your trusty x-actos (be careful not to cut the stitches!!), wash with hot water, and apply neosporin. Let dry freely before applying gauze, unless to do so would create a bigger problem.
• If you have had any type of orthopedic surgery, hope to hell you don’t have a massive wait list for rehab. Try booking your first appointment in advance of your scheduled surgery.

Glossary:

*Emergency: You’ve been a terrible accident or had a heart attack. These traumas are still treated immediately. Or, you have a life-threatening illness combined with a massive tax bill, and it’s almost April. you will be treated to ensure the IRS gets their money.

**Bounced: Hospitals have metrics to adhere to. How fast they can push you out the door is part of it. They strive to make you someone else’s problem, because if you die there, you mess up their mortality metric. Despite the fact that your surgical history remains at hospital A, it is probably best to seek emergency care at hospital B. They will then begin a new timeline for you, and bounce you out ASAP.

Note: I am not a doctor nor do I play one on TV. I have merely lived in Canada my whole life. I’ve buried two parents (one of whom was diagnosed with menopausal depression, when in fact she had lung cancer).  I know from which I speak. Normally i would suggest speaking to your family doctor about the above advice, but he has left his practice to take up plastics.

UPDATE!! Two stories about “bouncing” out of the UK.

Ambulance crews are offered £200 prize for taking patients to a GP instead of hospital

In the bizarre staff ‘incentive scheme’, emergency crews working for South Central Ambulance Service were given the chance to enter a raffle and win £200 of store vouchers - but only if they used a GP triage service designed to reduce the number of patients taken to hospital.

Patient safety ‘at risk’ as A&E doctors make hurried decisions to beat four-hour time target

He said there were examples of patients being moved out of casualty departments to ‘anywhere’ in a hospital where there was a bed, so the ‘clock stops ticking’.

Meh. I didn’t go. I’m a little sad, since I often bill myself as Canada’s Fat Ann Coulter, but c’est la vie. Ms. Coulter would no doubt appreciate the conservative values of meeting deadlines and practicing frugality. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

Kathy was there, naturally:

I’d be so thrilled if once in a while they’d acknowledge there’s a reason some people — shock!! — don’t trust them [Muslims], and take it up with their violent coreligionists.

Inevitably Dr. Roy had himself photographed with Ann. Actually, he got a ton of really great photos. Go check them out.

Closet Conservative is bemused by the cattiness of the Globe’s Jane Taber:

It really drives earnest, liberal women crazy that Ann is actually attractive and slim.

They would prefer that she be a morose, fat and ugly right-winger, presumably so she would be an easier target and they could make even more painful comments about her appearance.

Tell me about it.

Ann Coulter will be in Ottawa tonight. Get your Coulter over Canada tour shirt!

Ann Coulter is in Canada for three cities: London, Ottawa and Calgary.

Binks has the exclusive Coulter Over Canada tour shirt, as well as the scoop about the potential arrest of Ms. Coulter.

Sadly, due to deadlines and my own personal freakonomics, I won’t be seeing Coulter. But I may still get the shirt.