Friday, June 29, 2007


A couple of months ago I found a picture Queen Bitch Ann sent me when I moved from Troy to Phoenix (this was after moving from Reno to Groton to Pawtucket to Troy, for my own personal reasons which I will spare you right now) because the "entertainer" (read: "ass") my Mom was living with got his teeth kicked in one too many times on account of his novelty act. Anyway, when I first wrote about this picture, I forgot to mention that Q.B.A. included a note in the envelope: "Please enjoy this photograph of the family. I expect this should satisfy your childish need to "catch up" with all of us. P.S. FYI––Seamus has the bowels of a girl. I will never forgive Mitt for getting you that pile of chickenshit covered in fur that you call a dog." Thanks, Not-My-Mom!

Seamus. I remember how jealous Tagg & Company were when Dad brought that dog home for me. (I remember what Dad said, too, when he brought me out to the yard to show me the dog tied to a tree: "Maybe this will shut you up.") Josh, especially, really wanted a dog of his own, which created a lot of friction around the Romney house. QBA used to joke that Josh would have a dog as soon as "we take care of the 'Seth Problem'." But he wasn't Josh's dog—Seamus was my dog and my best friend...until he "mysteriously" disappeared.

About two weeks before I was sent to live with my mom, I was told Seamus had run away. I never saw Seamus again after that day, which is why I was always confused about QBA's P.S. until today.

Before beginning the drive, Mitt Romney put Seamus, the family's hulking Irish setter, in a dog carrier and attached it to the station wagon's roof rack. He'd built a windshield for the carrier, to make the ride more comfortable for the dog.
Then Romney put his boys on notice: He would be making predetermined stops for gas, and that was it.
The ride was largely what you'd expect with five brothers, ages 13 and under, packed into a wagon they called the ''white whale.''

As the oldest son, Tagg Romney commandeered the way-back of the wagon, keeping his eyes fixed out the rear window, where he glimpsed the first sign of trouble. ''Dad!'' he yelled. ''Gross!'' A brown liquid was dripping down the back window, payback from an Irish setter who'd been riding on the roof in the wind for hours.

As the rest of the boys joined in the howls of disgust, Romney coolly pulled off the highway and into a service station. There, he borrowed a hose, washed down Seamus and the car, then hopped back onto the highway. It was a tiny preview of a trait he would grow famous for in business: emotion-free crisis management.

What a load of crap.. More like howls of laughter...Oh, look! Seth's dog has lousy bowel control, just like Seth. (In my defense, I was born with a nervous disorder.) Oh, and this part makes me even sicker....

it offered his sons a rare unplanned stop.
''Think about it,'' Tagg says, ''a 12-hour drive and the only time we stop is to get gas. When we stop, you can buy your food and go to the bathroom, but that's the only time we're stopping, so you'd better get it all done at once.'' Yet there was one exception to Mitt's nonstop policy. ''As soon as my mom says, 'I think I need to go to the bathroom,' he pulls over instantly, and doesn't complain. 'Anything for you, Ann.'.''

Yeah, anything. Like, "I'll kidnap Seth's best friend, give him to your favorite son, Josh, and then when Josh gets bored of the dog I can always kill Seamus, just for kicks. Anything for you, ANN!"

Monday, June 25, 2007

Ah, I love Fenway and I have a blue shirt

Tagg? Who collected Red Sox baseball cards as a kid? And who wet himself over Joe Smith lithographs? Answer.. Me...You. DOuche.
P.S. You guys look like pansies when Dad makes you dress up the same.

Friday, June 15, 2007

HA HA You are funny (not)

One of my favorite things about this blog is the fun we get to make of each other publicly. A friend sent me the link to a blogger who apparently had a crush on Josh during college. Thought you'd enjoy reading it, even if she is a Democrat!

Ahahahahah, oh Tagg, you’re soooo funny. I know how much you like to make fun of your “brothers’ publicly, like the time you screamed at the wave pool that I had pissed myself . Poor Taggy waggy couldn’t deal with the fact that Dad was drinking a beer, that’s right ALCOHOL, so what does MR. T do? Shits his pants, literally, and then says I took a pee!

Wednesday, June 13, 2007


Some idiot:
Kudos to the Romney boys for thinking outside the box.

And let me add, Kudos to the Romney Boys for shoving me out of the box.

Monday, June 11, 2007

No more blogging high

Like that'll happen. Anyway, I don't like the poem but I vowed not to edit my blog... Oh and FYI I do my own blogging and don't get an intern to do it!

Sunday, June 10, 2007

I'm a Poet and know it

I wrote this poem last night after I had a couple of percosates for my throbbing toe (ingrown toenail)

I didn’t get to go to the 2002 olympics
even though you were in charge.
I didn’t get to go to the Olympics
Even though it was open for the family at large
I didn’t see a single Olympic event live.
But Tagg did and Matt did and Josh did and Craig did and Ben did.
And that’s no Jive.

I didn’t get to go skiing in Aspen, swimming in Alcopulco, or the canyon did I hike.
I never been to Wellfleet on Cape Cod, toured the Louvre or travelled Napa by bike.
I certainly never had box seats at Fenway to see David Ortiz hit.
But Tagg did and Matt did and Josh did and Craig did and Ben did.
And I wonder if Queen Bitch Ann gives a shit?

When I was ten I thought I was brother number four
But now I learn I am brother no more
I pinch myself to be sure I am alive
On-line of Romney brothers, there are only five?
You want to be President so I guess I am number six
Because Brothers 1,2,3,4,5 are all fucking Dicks!

Well, quiet I won’t be
for why should I
I’ve been denied and I want
My piece of the pie.