How Bad Does It Have To Get?

You're never gonna believe this one.

This woman, Catherine Kieu Becker, chopped off her husband's pecker.

Really. She did. Then, she threw it in the garbage disposal and turned it on. Evidently, she poisoned her husband's dinner with some sort of hallucinogen that would make him drowsy. Police reports allege that she then tied him to the bed and chopped off his penis, put it in the kitchen garbage disposal and turned it on. She told police, "he deserved it".

Now I gotta ask you, how bad do things have to get for someone to do this? The couple were reportedly going through a divorce. I know a thing or two about divorce and when I was going through it, the last thing I wanted to do was see his face much less make him dinner. Would I have liked to cut off his penis? Maybe, but the thought of getting rid of him for good made much more sense to me.

You can read about it here and wonder just like I did, what this woman was thinking. The only one she's screwed is herself. According to the Associated Press she has been charged with "aggravated mayhem, false imprisonment, assault with a deadly weapon, administering a drug with intent to commit a felony, poisoning and spousal abuse." One of these charges carries a life sentence.

Was it really worth it? No one knows for sure what goes on behind closed doors but to give in to hate and anger like that only destroys both lives.

It may or may not be that simple, but I say just get out and save yourself.

It's Not What You Think, Honey

A man escapes from prison where he has been for 15 years. He breaks into a house to look for money and guns and finds a young couple in bed.

He orders the guy out of bed and ties him to a chair, while tying the girl to the bed he gets on top of her, kisses her neck, then gets up and goes into the bathroom. While he's in there, the husband tells his wife:

"Listen, this guy's an escaped convict, look at his clothes! He probably spent lots of time in jail and hasn't seen a woman in years. I saw how he kissed your neck." If he wants sex, don't resist, don't complain, do whatever he tells you. Satisfy him no matter how much he nauseates you. This guy is probably very dangerous. If he gets angry, he'll kill us. Be strong, honey. I love you."

To which his wife responds: "He wasn't kissing my neck. He was whispering in my ear. He told me he was gay, thought you were cute, and asked me if we had any Vaseline. I told him it was in the bathroom. Be strong honey. I love you too!!"

A Tall Tale Of Courage And Hope

I happened across the Diane Sawyer interview with Jaycee Dugard last night and found myself unable to move from the TV for two hours. I had heard about Jaycee's horrid 18 year experience, being held captive at the hands of a madman, on the news and had caught bits and pieces of her story. But really I had no idea.

What I found was a not what I had expected. At all.

I found a beautiful and caring young woman who had decided to share her story so that it may help others. And the most courageous person I had ever seen.

With not an ounce of anger or harsh language, Jaycee took us back to when she was an innocent 11 year old that was taken captive by a disgusting and dangerous pedophile. Handcuffed and kept in a storage unit in the backyard of his home for most of her first year, Jaycee talks, almost childlike, about the man who robbed her of her life. She explains that for most of the first year she did not see the sun, or feel it's warmth on her skin, and that she grew to anticipate his short daily visits to her prison because she was "so lonely", as she explains.

Raped by him repeatedly, she says the hope of survival is what kept her going, while he went on elaborate drug "runs" in her presence, forced her to have sex with him and listen to his incoherent ramblings about God. She was fed sporadically, with fast food and scraps and handcuffed for almost all of that first year. She met his wife, as horrid and disgusting as he, and she explains that in all of her 11 year old little girl body, she wanted this woman to like her and accept her.

At the age of 14, Jaycee gave birth to a baby girl, then a few years later, another, to which she was overjoyed because she would no longer be alone. She had someone that was "all hers" as she says. She managed to write small journals on scrap pieces of paper and keep them hidden from her captors and that she always held out hope. Hope that she would one day see her mother again.

A mother who never gave up trying to find her. Never. A mother who never gave up the hope that her daughter was still alive and always spoke about when Jaycee would come home. A mother who held all that anger that one would think Jaycee would have, but does not. A mother who will continue to let that anger, now that she has her precious daughter is home, fuel the fight for a justice system that failed her daughter and her miserably.

All that is in the past now and Jaycee, holding her mom's hand tells the cameras that her captors can no longer steal anything from her.

She is home now and they are the imprisoned ones.

For what one can only hope will be much longer and harder than the 18 years they stole from Jaycee.

Freaky Friday

Hey bloggers! It's a Friday freak fest over here at The Dandy and who better to showcase than our favorite freaks!

Today's freaks are extra freaky, if you ask me.

Now, I have to ask you...do you think she knows her shorts are falling down? Cmon..I think this look screams, "look at meeee!!!"

I gotta give him style points here. Grey and pink are a perfect color pairing. The boy's got a fabulous flair for fashion.

Speaking of fashion flair, this boy is in danger of loosing those pants...are you kidding me? I wanna know how the hell he walks around like that.

OOOhhh baby, nothing like getting it on in full view of the Walmart public. Oh yeah, and his manly physique surely will make her envy of the neighborhood.

And is it me or is there something in the air? People seem to be getting a little somethin' somethin' everywhere. Hey, free lovin never hurt no one....

Unless of course the kiddies are looking, then they probably want to know why he's got his hands down her pants...

Sister has her cheeky issues, for sure, but my problem here is not her jiggly cheeks, but her HORRID shoes. The girl needs to buy a fashion magazine on her way out.

And I always save the best for last...

Look very closely, but don't stare too long it may hurt your eyes permanently. Is sister wearing pants? Stretch pants? Is she naked? I can't tell.

The world may never know the answer to that one.

Have a great weekend bloggers!

Justice Is Not A Four Letter Word

As I watch these events playing out in the media I know one thing for sure:

In the court of public opinion, Casey Anthony has been tried, convicted and sentenced to death.

The Laundry Chronicles

So I was over at my friend Scope's place today and he was talking about laundry.

It got me to thinking about how I do laundry and I realized that I love doing laundry.

I know that sounds strange, but I do. It's like a challenge to me, because you know it somehow never seems to stop. Got nothing to do? Put in a load of laundry. Have a spare moment? Fold a load of laundry. It's weird, I know and get this...My favorite time to do laundry is on vacation. Nothing makes me happier than taking home a suitcase full of clean clothes.

I learned how to do laundry from the best; my sister who is a neat freak extraordinaire. She taught me how to fold and stack laundry and clothing like nobody's business. I could live my whole life without an iron and never know I needed one. It's all about the drying method and the folding and the storage. The Gap got nothing on us. We could fold them right under the table.

This, of course, comes in handy when I am packing for a trip. There is nothing I can't somehow fit into a suitcase. (the scale is my only packing enemy)

I have a whole category of things that don't go in the dryer. Jeans, t-shirts, sweaters, sweatshirts, must be lovingly, "hand ironed" while wet and left out flat to air dry. Anything that I really like a lot, never goes into the dryer. I even have wooden rods, built into the wall that are convenient drying racks. They make for easy access to flat drying items.

But I don't do my own laundry at home. Oh, I'll throw an occasional load into the wash here and there, but I really don't miss it. I'm lucky enough to have someone who does it for me and I am grateful for that. This could be the main reason I love laundry.

I am far enough removed from it to admire it from a far.

"Message Received"

The holiday weekend was great and things went along smoothly, until something happened that sent chills down my spine and really sent Frick for a loop. As much as I hate to say it, I am grateful for the teaching moment we got from it.

A young girl from the next town over, a senior who had just graduated, went missing on Sunday night. Frick knew this girl, not well, but had acted in a production of "Annie" two years ago with this lovely young lady. Her father reported her missing late Sunday night when she didn't return home her job at a local mall. Her body was found yesterday in a marsh in the small town she lived in. Police aren't saying much except that it is being treated as a homicide investigation and that they have one person of interest.

Frick has been mesmerized with the events that have been playing out on Facebook and the conspiracy theories that have been circulating, and I can't say that I blame her. This one hit a little too close to home for either of our likings. I saw in my child the realization that if it could happen here, it could happen to anyone.

I had to tell her. I had to say it and as sorry I am for that family who lost a beautiful child, I am grateful to be able to use this to teach my daughter about the dangers that exist in this vast and inviting world.

• I told her that all those times she told me I was being ridiculously strict with her, this is why.


• I told her that this is why I won't let her go out of the house without me knowing exactly where she is going and for how long she will be there.


• I told her that this is why her step father wants her to text him when she gets to places and parties and why her curfew's must be adhered to with utmost of punctuality.

And Frack looked my straight in the eye and for once didn't roll her teenage eyes at me, and said, "Message received mom."

Those were probably the two greatest and most honest words I have heard in a long time.