Tick tock, tick tock

Eleven days into his new administration, and Supervisor Stanley and the residents of Shandaken still have no web site.

The former Supervisor's wife, and former web master, admitted in her letter posted on the town site (the letter has since been taken down...don't worry, I still have my copy) that she VOLUNTEERED her services.

A fact that seems to be escaping the mind of the former webmaster is that this site existed long before she sauntered into the interweb world, and just because she chose a few shades off of the color wheel and placed other people's words on it, does not mean she owns it. That would be like me saying "I've drunk seven hundred and forty three bottles of Jagermeister, so I now own the company" ('cause I have...and I should...but I don't).

I recollect an election happening, and I also recall that Mr. Stanley won, fair and square. Sour grapes is no way to bring about dignity to the former administrator. The truly odd thing about all this is that I honestly believe the former webmaster doesn't even realize how bad she is making herself look. And not only herself, but her husband as well. She could have allowed him the decency to leave office with some dignity. Now, that's been taken away, leaving him with a theft "legacy". Should Peter DiSclafani decide to run against Rob Stanley in two years, don't think this won't come up.

I know, I know, you say, "But Helena, two years is a long time, and people forget."

First, I say, "shut up, stupid voices in my head!"

Then, I say to you, "yes, people do forget, but then again, that is why there are people like me. "

To help remind you.

'Cause I have to,... and I should... and I will.

On to other news...

Looks like this bitterly cold weather, while a pain (literally and figuratively for some), has been a blessing for the local skiing centers. Belleayre has been packed with a creature known as "skiers" also known as "outdoors men, sports enthusiasts", etc. I've never seen one up close, but I here tell that they are quite healthy and have a ruddy complexion from the cold and sun ( I get it from Reserva and mint schnapps). They also spend money on food and stuff locally, so I say we pass legislation to protect this creature, whether or not they really exist (hey ,they did it for Bigfoot).
So, good for our local economy! I've been thinking of luring some of my golf course childhood friends up to slide down the mountain on their asses...for a price of course. Ain't nothin' I wouldn't do for my town!

Now, if only we could fix that damned pesky sewage problem, we'd be set.

2010 is already looking up!

Hooray!!! Life lessons part 1

Well, it finally happened. Lesser Helena 2.o and the fake Fanci Colon have gone "underground" finally! They now reside in the seedy underbelly of blogdom where they belong. My peeps tell me that if one were to try to look at the site, you must become a member. So, the handful of people who had a morbid curiosity about what these half wits posted, will now have to get their kicks elsewhere. And for the five loyal followers (tools) who still read it, they have the privilege of knowing they are among an honored few. Okay, I choked on that "honored" part.

On another note, the blogger ranted on their other blog site (geez, I can't keep up) that they are FURIOUS about me having a facebook page, and about how some of my new friends are now questionable in her eyes because they have friended me. Just before that, she had spouted on about how it was everyone's right to speak out, and so on, and people should have the freedom to be involved (a privilege she fought to stifle for others), etc. Now apparently, people should not have the ability or freedom to be on my friend list. Well, perhaps they would friend you too if you requested. Maybe they just find me funnier than you.

But pleasssssssse explain why they should be considered bad people now that they have friended me? Just because you don't like me, doesn't mean others will share your opinion. See, that is freeeeeedom, sweety. Power to choose. I had to turn down some friend requests because I simply don't know many people in this town and question their intentions. And while we are on the subject, the blogger mentions that two of the people I have friended have been very nice to her.

Here is where she gets confused.

People are nice because it is the courteous thing to do. Maybe parents failed you in this part of life lessons, as you have a tendancy to be somewhat unkind to those around you, even when they are courteous to you. Let me help you here.

Sometimes, people are nice simply because it is the right thing to do. This does not mean, however, that they desire the gesture to be taken as anything more.

Next week's blog we will focus on good touch, bad touch, so be sure to tune in.

Again, all I read in this blog is "feel sorry for me", a constant habit of playing victim. This is a somewhat unforgiving and tiresome way to slink through life, especially when you continue to curse so many with your poison pen and acid tongue. I also don't remember anyone putting the blame squarely on her shoulders for that anti-Jane letter (just her knowing about it and promoting it, as she admits on her site), but she seems to want to put focus on herself in that (or any) situation, as long as it is as a victim.

An unapologetic way to be.

There was also a comment about my blog apparently stating she or her family should be harmed.

BULLSHIT.

Helena does not now, nor has she ever,promoted violence. I promote truth and openness in our government. But here once again, the other blogger is trying to stifle my own freedom of exercising my right to disagree with her on political views, by making outrageous claims. I would state, however, someone should ban you from your computer as you're an ignoramus with far too much time on your hands and little knowledge of the things going on around you.

P.S. I would also promote Absolute Vodka if their marketing department would return my calls.

So, whether or not I do make more than four or five friends, or if I lose them all for fear the other blogger will begin to make trouble for them at their place of employment (as she has in the past) I will still have fun with it. Come to think of it, maybe those that have friended me, should consider removing themselves from my list, for their own professional safety. I would not want you to have to face the harassment that others continue to endure. I will continue to write, even if it is for my own pleasure and I'm the only one reading...because sometimes I'm a funny bitch (and sometimes, like today, I'm a bit preachy), and we all need a good laugh every once in a while.

And learn take your own advice, other blogger, "let he who is without sin cast the first stone." You say the words, you write them down, but you don't seem to understand the meaning behind them, otherwise, your mouth would be shut, Miss "stone thrower" as you know better than anyone, the awful things you've done to people.

Till next time, chirruns.

Of Mice and Morons

Class act that he came to be known, Mr. Peter DiSclafani left office with the same modicum of dignity that he began with. Anyone looking to find information from the Town of Shandaken web site will be sorely disappointed, as the former supervisor's wife seems to have neglected to give the incoming Supervisor or anyone at town hall access to the town web site. Instead, one finds on the hijacked site, a self serving letter pretty much stating that nobody but Peter (her hubby, which she neglects to mention) thanked her for all the work done on the site, and until Rob thanks her, she ain't letting it go. Look here for a great read, but grab your tissues. You've been warned. Seems the page was profesh-uh-mally designed for free. If any of you recall the former site, compare it to this one. I think we pretty much got what we paid for. Real class, kids, realllll class. If they were more reflective people, they might realize that this is a perfect example of exactly why Rob is now Supervisor and Peter was not reelected.
Hey new Supervisor, don't cry your pretty little eyes out. You can always purchase a new domain name. A few suggestions (yeah, unless you're new here, you knew this was coming- and if you're new, welcome, where have you been?)

1. www.peterdoesntlivehereanymore.gov
2. www.oleblueeyesisinchargenowbitch.gov
3. www.wearenotnewarkbutalmostascorrupt.gov
4. www.givememydomainbackbitch.us
5. www.shitdaken.us

and my personal favorite:
6. www.youlostgetoveritandgivememydomainbackbitch.us

So, it was no surprise to any of my beh-behs when the freak show came to the Monthly Town Board Meeting show last night. Remember that I predicted it! Former Supernard Pete DiFluffy sat in the audience (of course he did, what else was he going to do, what with no restaurant business) smirking and generally behaving as he did while in office (i.e. bored and confused). It has become a tradition of single term Supervisors (i.e.- anyone named Pete) to continue to show up at Town board meetings, as they don't understand that they actually lost the election. I think the reason in part is because they did no work to speak of while in office, so to sit and still do no work is a rather nasty habit for them, one they can't break. Much like my Robert Mondavi Merlot and Desperate Housewives habit that will follow me to the grave (Damn you Bree and your perfect life).

Now on to the drama of the evening...the museum.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, because I do drink a lot, but this museum is important and must be opened four days...why?

Actually, it isn't even opened the days it is supposed to be already, so why so much fuss, Madame Director? Because you might actually be getting paid for the time you do (or don't) actually put in? I know it's a struggle to have to take off that bath robe and slippers and shut off that Jerry Springer show, and schlep the 72 steps to work, but bitches got to eat too, right?

I have an idea that will save the town money, and actually make it money in the process. We can purchase one of the public restrooms like they have in New York City, and place all of the museum contents in it. You know the kind, you put in two quarters, and for 20 minutes the "room" is yours, then after you finish, you step out, and the door locks behind you, filling the room with steam and solvents to clean away the stank of city scum. We could do that with the museum. If say, someone feels they absolutely must get in to see Shandaken's oldest spatula, they put in two quarters, grab a pamphlet, give themselves a "self-guided" tour, and then exit the pod, and any proof of their visit will be removed immediately after. BAWOOSH!

Another way to save around $11,000.00.
Just close the effing museum.

It would appear to me that a town entity that is causing so much grief, costing tens of thousands a year to run, and not even a necessary part of the town's structure, doesn't appear to be worth the hassle.

Or, perhaps they just need to change personnel. Yeah, that might help. ALOT!

And speaking of town entities...

Helena, sitting in her finest taffeta, and sipping Bailey's on ice, laughed her ass off at the t.v. when the group of museum mummies (Board of directors and close personal friends of the Director) claimed they have independent non-profit status, and choose their own board members. Not letting this misinformed cadre of misfits and their stylish (read: outlandish) comments get by without notice, former candidate for town board, the lovely lady Pat Ellison, asked if they were actually a 501 (c) 3?

"Uhhhhh. Well, we have that status under the Town's FIN #".

Sooooo, you're not really your own entity, and you report to the town board, sooooooooo...

Correct me if I'm wrong kittens, but wouldn't it make sense that the town board itself should be appointing the board members. Not like this is some independent corporation with its own FIN and tax exempt number reporting only to the charities bureau. This is a department in the town of Shandaken government, yet it serves at the pleasure of itself. Hahahahahah, I said "pleasure itself!"

I say town government needs to pull in the reigns of this bastard step-child of a department and give someone a spanking, PRONTO!

A final note on the Director of the museum. She made a point of accusing the Executive Director of the SHARP Committee of stealing and opening Museum mail. Is someone needing some attention again? What? Did Avon stop calling?

Is the SHARP director that bored? Is there not much out there that needs fixing in the town of Shandaken that she needs to do this to occupy her time?

Right.

So we're supposed to believe that SHARP is being all EVIL again, and they are after the museum bank statements for the purpose of destroying everything within it. Paranoid much? Bitch needs to be medicated STAT!

STAT is medical term for "Like, get her some lorazepam Fucking now"!!!

Okay Chirruns, it's time for dinner (Pasta LaVodka, followed by an irish coffee for dessert- if you really must know) so Helena must bid you farewell for now.

P.s. For those of you who asked about the comment status of this blog, yes, please do leave one, and it will be posted. I apologize as I neglected to check to see if there were any for a while. The reason for the comments now being moderated is because some anonymous (ahem, rhymes with fairy) person was leaving vulgar comments using a town resident's name along with the New Supervisor's, and town clerk's name. Yup, reallll class!

Later beh-behs.

The very first episode of The Town of Shandaken Monthly Meeting Show will be airing live, Monday night, January 4th, 2010. To paraphrase Homer Simpson, "Woohoo!" A newly elected council (save for holdovers Snoris, Timmy, and Vin) will be dealing with many many resolutions at the start of business for the new year. Probably 20 resolutions or so (eleventy-seven for those Peter holdouts) will be gone through during the evening's proceedings. Look for special guest stars, I'm sure there will be plenty.

Sales of torches and pitchforks have increased in town, as rabid residents get ready to tar and feather any member of council that attempts to drag their fair berg into the 20th century (yes, I know we are in the 21st century, see where I'm going with this?).

Convenience, infrastructure, lower taxes, and basic services are not something that transplants want while living here. Damn it, they moved here for the distressed ambiance and they will stab anyone who attempts to cover those pot holes that make their road look quaint and old fashioned. Hell, I say cut off their water supply while you're at it, and they can also have that distressed aroma to go along with the ambiance. See, I'm always trying to help. I got your back, city bitches!

I think Mr. Stanley will work well with all of the councilmen up there now. Having suffered the slings and arrows of the last four years, and in particular the last two, Mr. Stanley surely is used to difficulties on the job. His biggest challenges are yet to come, however, as I predict that the psychologically disturbed individuals that have exhausted every town resident and every legal channel with lawsuits to stop everything revolving around progress, will once again be present and vocal at every meeting as they:
1. Don't have jobs
2. Don't have a life
3. Don't have enough Cabo Wabo in the liquor cabinet

What are they afraid of?

Progress, of course. They can't function in the real world, so they found this little darkened blot on the map, a blot that didn't even see real cable television until 1994. It was a safe hiding place. When sunlight was threatening to peek in, they began a law suit and the sun moved to Delaware County. Helena came here for the lack of golf courses (you know of my childhood misery), men with at least one wood chipper in their yard, people who say "all's I know", and the lack of accountability in wardrobe choices.

So, to Mr. Stanley, the best of luck, you have your work cut out for you. Crazed sun fearing albinos will try to unseat you, but hang in there sunshine, you're gonna make a difference anyway. Might I suggest a Valium before each meeting? A port wine chaser should also be applied. Or, perhaps this little spray might help...


Later my bitches!

P.S. Those nasty rumors that have been circulating around about me...well, they're true. Yes, I have pleasured Tiger Woods on more than one occasion. But I swear, it stopped when he got married. I'm a bitch, but I'm no ho!

Happy New Year, my bitches

Helena is sorry for not writing for a few days, but as you might imagine, the holidays keep me busy, what with all the parties, the food, the drinks. This year, I decided to give myself a present, and after our annual Aruba trip, I took a little vacation on my own. You know, a little me time (i.e. a place where I don't have to share my booze), to unwind from a busy year of blogging and bitching.

So, I headed for the Port Authority and took the last train to the land of misfit toys. It was marvelous! Of course I took some toys home, I still have a few people to give gifts to and
let's face it, nothing says you don't belong in this town, like a toy that even Santa wouldn't hand out.
I know someone special who will be getting a raggedy- ass "Raggedy Ann" knock off dolly. There is also a special little boy who will be getting the cowboy who rides an ostrich.

The train with the square wheels I'm saving for myself. It reminds me of how things have moved along in this town. Until now that is.

Helena has great hope and great expectations for the coming year. I think we will see some positive changes (except for the ritualistic rantings that will continue from the peanut gallery) and perhaps some progress will finally find its way to Shandaken. And maybe, just maybe we will no longer be looked upon as the "Hooterville" of upstate New York. Well, a few residents will have to leave town for that to happen, and that ain't gonna happen my chirrens.

So, to all my lovelies, I thank you for a wonderful ride, and to you all, I wish you the

HAPPIEST OF NEW YEARS

Now, I have a column to write, so see you in the funny pages!

Santa Baby

With Christmas eve only a few days away, and Mr. Weaver and I planning our annual Xmas getaway to Aruba, Helena thought she had better put down the Absinthe and pen a poem for her beh-behs before she plants her ass on an Air-Aruba flying air bus...

But then She remembered after the Absinthe fog wore off, this bitch hates to write poems.
Oh Hell, anything for my beh-behs!

The twelve days of Christmas Non denominational Holiday

By Helena Handbasket- Weaver

On the first day of Christmas Non denominational Holiday

My true love gave to me, a sewer to bring economic development

On the second day of Christmas Non denominational Holiday

My true love gave to me, two shots of Cabo and a sewer to bring economic development

On the third day of Christmas Non denominational Holiday

My true love gave to me, three flasks of Benedictine, two shots of Cabo, and a sewer to bring economic development.

On the fourth day of Christmas Non denominational Holiday

My true love gave to me, four liters of Captain Morgan rum, three flasks of Benedictine, two shots of Cabo, and a sewer to bring ergonomic diverpiment

On the fifth day of Hannukkkkk, Chankahola, Christmas Non denominational Holiday

My boyfriend gave to me, fiftyleven murple shirts with zzzippers, foursh litters of captain puppies, free burpee seeds , two combos and think I fell in a sewer of ecoli diverisplement

On the sixth day of a party thing, mmmmmmmmmy guy gave on me six monkeys swimming, five things with stuff on ‘em, four furry fluffies with tails, tree flats of beniment drinky stuff, arhhhhggggg, I feel sick, two, hiccup arrrrghghghhhh, so sick.

On the seventh day, Gahd rested… wif a hangover

On the eighf day…I don’t memember anyfing

On the ninfth day, I arrrgbhhhghhhhhhhhhhhhh

I can never make it to twelve. Sorry.

I hope Santa brings you everything you want, be it Dolls

or Harleys! Or dolls on Harleys in some cases!

Merry Christmas, my bitches!!! Happy New year!!!!!!

Yippie

That was the word expressed at Tonight's "Town Board Monthly Meeting Show" by outgoing Supernard- Peter DiSclafluffy, as he half-heartedly congratulated the winners of the recent election. Don't cry for him, Argentina. No, really, don't. Bitch has plans, but I'll get to that in a minute.

Helena sat in her finest season finale gown, sipping Crystal, and waxing nostalgic over the last two years. So much has happened, so little of it good. Ahh, like sands through the hourglass, yada yada yada.

Most of the meeting went without incident, due in part to the low attendance (none of the witches of Eastwick showed up, so the seventh circle of hell ritual could not be performed). Peter and the entire board were taken to task over the "memorialising resolution" to not let any bitches smoke in town parks. Vin Bernstein, voicing concern that this was just another "example of increasing government" voted against it, as did fellow board member, soon to be Supervisor, and current smoking fiend, Rob Stantastik (eh, stretching, I know). When asked how this would be enforced, Peter went on a ten minute grasping for words serenade, until someone pinched the bitch and the meeting continued on.

Words like "amorphous" and "esoteric" were not harmed during the making of this meeting, I'm happy to report. When all was said and done...well, he didn't say anything at all really, 'cept, 'this isn't a law." Someone asked then why do it? Insert cricket chirpping sound...here.

So, the next hot-button issue (a new ambulance) came up again. Rich Muellerlalalalalalalala was in attendance, dressed to the nines, or course, we expect nothing less (if taffeta didn't chafe so much, I would recommend the Ambulance have their uniforms made of it, and I would "roll" with them homies, fo sho!).

Anyway, Lala was once again trying to appeal to the common sense of the board, explaining that an ambulance purchase was needed before they are forced to buy either a regular gas engine model from Ford, or a Chevy vehicle run on pee-pee and the sweat of labor camp prisoners in Thailand. You think Helena's kidding my chirruns, read the minutes, "urea" powered vehicles. Yummy!

Well, long story short (keebler short), the board sadly voted NO. Oh hell, who needs a useful, fully functioning vehicle? Not us Shandakeninnies. Nah, we're tough, be don't need no estinking help!

On top of that, another bit of ambulance news, which came as a shock to everyone, was a resolution to hire...dadadaaaaaa...PETER DISCLAFANI as an ambulance driver.
Felt like Captain Morgan drop kicked me and slapped the bitch right outta my drink!

I wondered how Pete-ard would exact his revenge on the bitches that got rid of him, and now his evil plan is clear. A lot of bitches are gonna die now! Helena has decided that should I find myself falling out of a tree again (or being removed from the tree by force, police force that is) I will apply the principles of survival self medication, and I will reset my broken leg with two downed tree branches and my handy, ever present flask, rather than risk the wrath that will be "Peter D., ambulance driver. Kidding aside, kudos on wanting to serve the public in yet another capacity.

So, no new ambulance, and Peter behind the wheel, I just heard the sound of the Ambulance's coveted awards falling off the walls back at headquarters. Well, these new developments call for some new procedures when dealing with emergencies. Might I suggest the following.

-Since no new ambulance will be purchased, buy a rickshaw to transport patients.
This would benefit the town in that it would save on gas, and it would be a great workout for drivers. Since Peter is new, he can start off with local runs and work his way to the long hauls.
Hell, the town will save so much money, they will eventually be able to afford a whole fleet of rickshaws.

Never mind two or three ambulances, ambulances are for suckers and businessmen. Only corporate greed would prevent the town from following through with this idea. Are you listening, Supervisor Stanley? Rickshaw.

My next suggestion would be, if you're a town resident and you require the offerings of a local emergency services department, but you can't have them, do the following:
-Put a band aid on whatever it is that ails you ( I don't care if you stabbed yourself in the eye or accidentally sat on a light bulb, the band aid isn't going to kill you), drink a bottle of drambuie, and drunk-drive yourself to the horsepital, because you'll have a better chance of making it that way then you will waiting for the ambulance that just blew a tie-rod and didn't have a back up because the town wanted to conserve money for more important things like signs to prevent people from smoking in the Shandaken park system. Not the prevent forest fires, mind you, but to prevent children from idolizing Gerry Setchko.

The funniest part of this subject matter, was that immediately after they turned down Lala's request for a new ambulance, Peter moves to vote on Police Cheif McGrath's request for a new car. The comic tension could probably be cut with a knife in that room. I'm sure that had they even entertained that motion, Mr. Lalalalala would have jumped out of his seat, and cut some bitches a new one. Helena would have paid extra to see that. But alas, always the gentleman, class and elegance prevailed(as it does with all of us well dressed bitches) and Mr .Lala thanked them for considering it anyway. I think Pete's gonna get the shitty shifts on the ambulance for a while.

The meeting came to a close without incident (I had hoped for at least that streaker lady to come running in and try to hug Peter or Rob) and Peter thanked everyone for "putting up with me for the last two years" and as he exited, a small group of stalwart supporters started clapping (it began as the dramatic slow clap, and escalated to a rush of thunderous claps....Just kidding, I gotta stop joking like that, sorry)

Helena has to use this last paragraph to give props to the man who made all of this possible. To Mr DiSclafani, who made us laugh, cry, scream, hyperventilate, squirm, laugh some more, and sneeze once or twice, thanks for the memories. I have fought the feeling that I would not be able to do this without you...

...but then Snoris spoke once or twice tonight, and I knew I would be okay.