Okay, I know that Mamacita's children are among the most wonderful in the world...but as fabulous as they are, I have to say that my own kiddos are moving up in the ranks, perhaps to someday challenge hers for the title.
My sweet little daughter is a worrier. Not unlike her mother. And just to prove that little pitchers do indeed have big ears, she is concerned about my current situation (dead transmission, no $$ to fix it, no job after tomorrow, no way to go get a new one) even though I have (tried) not to speak of these things in front of her.
Bless her pointed little head.
Yesterday she came to me with an idea for a job.
She said I should start up a 'stand'.
Hm?
When I questioned her, she said, "You can take some of our cardboard boxes and make a little stand near the driveway, and sell stuff to make money."
Aaaww..
So I praised her for thinking outside the cardboard box...then she tapped her little finger 'pon her little chin, and I could almost see the lightbulb over her head begin to glow.
She's decided that she should be the bread-winner, the bacon-bringer, of the family.
"I've got a great idea, Mom!" said she. "I will take my magic kit and practice doing all of the tricks until I don't need the instructions any more, then I can make a stage in the front yard and do tricks for the customers and make lots of money!"
My Becca, The Master Prestidigitator.
The Miraculous Magic of Becca.
Or something like that.
What a kid. :)
Cut footloose...
I actually dug out my flip-flops (The Shoes Formerly Known as Thongs~before that word took on a whole new meaning) today...
As I looked at my toesies, I was grateful for the compulsivity that makes me ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS have freshly painted toenails.
For the first time I embraced my particular form of OCD.
There are few things ickier than seeing a lady wearing a gorgeous pair of sandals...and seeing all that cracked and chipped polish, with long, uneven toenails...Bleh.
It's just a damn shame that MY pretty toenails are stuck on such big, ugly feet with crooked toes.
Perhaps the flip-flops should remain in the closet, after all. ;)
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Will the real aka_monty please stand up?
It was suggested to me recently by a "real-life" friend who reads this little journal that I blog the way I treat my 'real-life' relationships.
"WHOA there, li'l pardner!" I said...which is how I tend to react to what I imagine to be criticism. "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout?"
My friend backed up a step, eyeing me warily. He knows what I'm capable of.
(No, pervert, he doesn't know THAT...but I suspect he might like to)
He hastened to explain that he meant no offense...but in hisusually wrong humble opinion, I tend to react to most things with amusement, turn aside questions that I don't want to answer by using flippancy and a great ability to change the subject, and doling out the teeniest bits of personal information at a time.
He actually accused me of being miserly with personal information.
This came as a shock to me.
I have always considered myself to be open, honest, and aboveboard (for the most part). I frequently say, "My life is an open book!"
Apparently some of the pages are stuck together.
I also like to state, "No topic is off limits!"
Apparently that means topics in a limited range.
Well hell, seriously, who amongst you is just dying to know what my favorite color is, what's my natural hair color, what my shoe/bra size is, what's on my nightstand, who is my favorite author/group/actor/actress, and my favorite book/movie/song? Why should you care when/where I graduated high school, how well I played softball/basketball/volleyball, what awards I won in drama & debate, etc etc etc? (Pretend you're Yul Brynner when you say that last part, it's more fun that way)
If those are the things that weigh on your mind whenever (if ever) you think of me...
I worry about you. I worry about you a lot.
;)
...on another note...
I live in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I woke up and found myself plopped right into the middle of "The Birds".
For crap's sake.
The tweeting, trilling, warbling, chattering, singing, and cawing was drowning out my alarm clock...which is set to super ultimate maximum loud.
I looked outside...and I swear there had to be 3,000 or so birds in the trees that surround my house.
And they were watching me.
I could feel their beady little bird eyes on me...making my flesh crawl.
Even my doggies were hiding.
Now I'm off to go purchase some heavy-duty bullet-proof goggles and full-body armour.
*shudder*
And maybe a shotgun.
"WHOA there, li'l pardner!" I said...which is how I tend to react to what I imagine to be criticism. "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout?"
My friend backed up a step, eyeing me warily. He knows what I'm capable of.
(No, pervert, he doesn't know THAT...but I suspect he might like to)
He hastened to explain that he meant no offense...but in his
He actually accused me of being miserly with personal information.
This came as a shock to me.
I have always considered myself to be open, honest, and aboveboard (for the most part). I frequently say, "My life is an open book!"
Apparently some of the pages are stuck together.
I also like to state, "No topic is off limits!"
Apparently that means topics in a limited range.
Well hell, seriously, who amongst you is just dying to know what my favorite color is, what's my natural hair color, what my shoe/bra size is, what's on my nightstand, who is my favorite author/group/actor/actress, and my favorite book/movie/song? Why should you care when/where I graduated high school, how well I played softball/basketball/volleyball, what awards I won in drama & debate, etc etc etc? (Pretend you're Yul Brynner when you say that last part, it's more fun that way)
If those are the things that weigh on your mind whenever (if ever) you think of me...
I worry about you. I worry about you a lot.
;)
...on another note...
I live in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I woke up and found myself plopped right into the middle of "The Birds".
For crap's sake.
The tweeting, trilling, warbling, chattering, singing, and cawing was drowning out my alarm clock...which is set to super ultimate maximum loud.
I looked outside...and I swear there had to be 3,000 or so birds in the trees that surround my house.
And they were watching me.
I could feel their beady little bird eyes on me...making my flesh crawl.
Even my doggies were hiding.
Now I'm off to go purchase some heavy-duty bullet-proof goggles and full-body armour.
*shudder*
And maybe a shotgun.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Monty's Believe It or Don't.
but first...
I hope everyone had a lovely Easter, no matter how (or if) you chose to celebrate.
I did not touch my computer all day yesterday...that may have something to do with the Indonesian earthquake. I'm not sure.
From the "Are you shittin' me?!" files...
This is probably the only thing I will ever post regarding Terri Schiavo. I think that nearly everything that can be said (on either side of the debate) has already been said...and way better than I could say it.
There was just one little line at the end of an article in today's paper that caught my attention...
"Police have arrested 38 people in the past week, most for trying to bring [Terri] Schiavo water."
Well now.
It is good to know that our boys in blue are doing such a fabulous job, keeping those damn criminals away from the water fountains.
**Note to self: If you should come across someone who is dehydrated or thirsty...do not offer them a drink. Stay out of jail, girl.
For crap's sake.
and then...
From another article in today's paper, which I shall (mostly) paraphrase (although I DID cut out the good parts, so I could get 'em just right):
The Bixby police department is the first in Okieland to use a telephone service to warn residents when a sexual offender moves into their neighborhood.
A recorded message can be sent out to a thousand people at a time...it says "We have an important message for you. We want you to be aware that there is a sexual predator living in your neighborhood."
It also gives the offender's name, address, age, race, height, weight, hair & eye color, and of course, gender.
I am so not opposed to this measure.
But of course our friends at the ACLU have to get involved, and their staff attorney (from ACLU OK) says that the real "solution is to dedicate adequate resources to treating offenders and educating the public."
Now here's the best part:
Convicted sex offender Agustus Christenson, 26, moved in with his family about 2 months ago. He served prison time for first-degree rape and indecent proposal to minor children, records show. Records also show he had sex with a 13-year-old girl five or six times and made the proposals to boys ages 6, 10, and 11.
Agustus had this to say about the new service for alerting the neighbors...
"If they feel they have a right to know, well, that's good. It also creates an uneasiness with me and to an extent it does anger me. I can see their side of it, needing to have a desire to protect their child.
My side of it, well, it's like, I don't have the bubonic plague."
No, pal, what you have is much, much worse.
I hope everyone had a lovely Easter, no matter how (or if) you chose to celebrate.
I did not touch my computer all day yesterday...that may have something to do with the Indonesian earthquake. I'm not sure.
From the "Are you shittin' me?!" files...
This is probably the only thing I will ever post regarding Terri Schiavo. I think that nearly everything that can be said (on either side of the debate) has already been said...and way better than I could say it.
There was just one little line at the end of an article in today's paper that caught my attention...
"Police have arrested 38 people in the past week, most for trying to bring [Terri] Schiavo water."
Well now.
It is good to know that our boys in blue are doing such a fabulous job, keeping those damn criminals away from the water fountains.
**Note to self: If you should come across someone who is dehydrated or thirsty...do not offer them a drink. Stay out of jail, girl.
For crap's sake.
and then...
From another article in today's paper, which I shall (mostly) paraphrase (although I DID cut out the good parts, so I could get 'em just right):
The Bixby police department is the first in Okieland to use a telephone service to warn residents when a sexual offender moves into their neighborhood.
A recorded message can be sent out to a thousand people at a time...it says "We have an important message for you. We want you to be aware that there is a sexual predator living in your neighborhood."
It also gives the offender's name, address, age, race, height, weight, hair & eye color, and of course, gender.
I am so not opposed to this measure.
But of course our friends at the ACLU have to get involved, and their staff attorney (from ACLU OK) says that the real "solution is to dedicate adequate resources to treating offenders and educating the public."
Now here's the best part:
Convicted sex offender Agustus Christenson, 26, moved in with his family about 2 months ago. He served prison time for first-degree rape and indecent proposal to minor children, records show. Records also show he had sex with a 13-year-old girl five or six times and made the proposals to boys ages 6, 10, and 11.
Agustus had this to say about the new service for alerting the neighbors...
"If they feel they have a right to know, well, that's good. It also creates an uneasiness with me and to an extent it does anger me. I can see their side of it, needing to have a desire to protect their child.
My side of it, well, it's like, I don't have the bubonic plague."
No, pal, what you have is much, much worse.
Friday, March 25, 2005
What's a Monty to do...
...when she's got nothin' to say?
I know, I was just as surprised as you are.
But I did have a fantastically lovely day.
A stroll around Bricktown.
Lunch with a wonderful companion.
Much laughter.
Intelligent, lively conversation.
Shared interests.
Chimichangas.
Who could ask for anything more?
Not Monty.
In case you've been wanting to try something new...how 'bout this?
**A Monty Exclusive! Cannot be found in Mr. Boston's Bartending Guide, or even The Webtender.
How to make the perfect Montyrita:
Dip rim of glass in cynicism
ADD:
Equal parts Mommy and Smarts
A shot of humour
A dash of naïvety
2 squirts of geek
A splash of attitude
3 (large) shots of Cuervo Gold
Garnish with a touch of arrogance.
Chase with 4 oz. of humility served in a chilled glass.
Perfect for all party settings, no matter what the occasion.
For the full effect, make sure you shout "OLÉ!" both before and after drinking.
People love this drink, I'm tellin' ya.
Or you could skip all the other shit and just chug the tequila instead.
What's your drink?
I know, I was just as surprised as you are.
But I did have a fantastically lovely day.
A stroll around Bricktown.
Lunch with a wonderful companion.
Much laughter.
Intelligent, lively conversation.
Shared interests.
Chimichangas.
Who could ask for anything more?
Not Monty.
In case you've been wanting to try something new...how 'bout this?
**A Monty Exclusive! Cannot be found in Mr. Boston's Bartending Guide, or even The Webtender.
How to make the perfect Montyrita:
Dip rim of glass in cynicism
ADD:
Equal parts Mommy and Smarts
A shot of humour
A dash of naïvety
2 squirts of geek
A splash of attitude
3 (large) shots of Cuervo Gold
Garnish with a touch of arrogance.
Chase with 4 oz. of humility served in a chilled glass.
Perfect for all party settings, no matter what the occasion.
For the full effect, make sure you shout "OLÉ!" both before and after drinking.
People love this drink, I'm tellin' ya.
Or you could skip all the other shit and just chug the tequila instead.
What's your drink?
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
How charming.
Just thought I'd offer up another one of my lovely random messages for your enjoyment.
This from yesterday...
"your very pretty ,,,,,silting to xome viry good music , now hard to concertrate.=== itkills me =========== like-an ice-crem-cone-better-be-quick-or -l'll be-gone, if you ve ever heard that one let me know . i like to have he best of the best, and give the same no games."
*NAME WITHELD TO PROTECT THE PERP FROM SERIOUS DERISION*
Oh for crap's sake.
What the hell is silting, anyway? I can only assume it is some form of archaelogical study.
Perhaps it has something to do with fishing.
Or panning for gold.
Basically, the only thing I understood from the message was...the name. I'm assuming he spelled that correctly.
on another note...
There are persons who will remain unnamed (and thus uncredited) who had the following to say about MOI...
"And it doesn't surprise me she had nothing to say...if I could judge her based on her blog, I would venture that there's not much going on in that vapid space she calls a brain."
Who, me?!
Okay, so I might agree with that a little bit...but although I am many things, I've never thought vapid was one of them. Banal, maybe. Un-enlightened, certainly. Ridiculous, frequently.
But vapid?
I'm mostly amused...but I found myself nearly offended by this remark.
Of course, themoron author of that is certainly entitled to her stupid opinion.
I've never received 'hate comments' before...do you think I deserve them?
Perhaps, because I don't censor myself much. I say what I think, or what I think at the time anyway, and rarely worry about offending someone, or even a group of people.
Is that so wrong?
I encourage those people to think of MY blog like a strip club...if you don't like what they show there, don't go.
And something else I learned today: Giving credit to someone when you believe it is due and/or the benefit of the doubt is apparently seen as weak and makes you an object of ridicule.
Trying to do the right thing is evidently the wrong thing.
That seems shameful to me.
I thought someone had understood what I had tried to say...I was mistaken. The person I tried to give credit to appears to know how to talk out of both sides of her mouth.
*sigh*
People never cease to amaze me.
Luckily, I'm empty-brained and vapid, so this will not trouble me for long.
This from yesterday...
"your very pretty ,,,,,silting to xome viry good music , now hard to concertrate.=== itkills me =========== like-an ice-crem-cone-better-be-quick-or -l'll be-gone, if you ve ever heard that one let me know . i like to have he best of the best, and give the same no games."
*NAME WITHELD TO PROTECT THE PERP FROM SERIOUS DERISION*
Oh for crap's sake.
What the hell is silting, anyway? I can only assume it is some form of archaelogical study.
Perhaps it has something to do with fishing.
Or panning for gold.
Basically, the only thing I understood from the message was...the name. I'm assuming he spelled that correctly.
on another note...
There are persons who will remain unnamed (and thus uncredited) who had the following to say about MOI...
"And it doesn't surprise me she had nothing to say...if I could judge her based on her blog, I would venture that there's not much going on in that vapid space she calls a brain."
Who, me?!
Okay, so I might agree with that a little bit...but although I am many things, I've never thought vapid was one of them. Banal, maybe. Un-enlightened, certainly. Ridiculous, frequently.
But vapid?
I'm mostly amused...but I found myself nearly offended by this remark.
Of course, the
I've never received 'hate comments' before...do you think I deserve them?
Perhaps, because I don't censor myself much. I say what I think, or what I think at the time anyway, and rarely worry about offending someone, or even a group of people.
Is that so wrong?
I encourage those people to think of MY blog like a strip club...if you don't like what they show there, don't go.
And something else I learned today: Giving credit to someone when you believe it is due and/or the benefit of the doubt is apparently seen as weak and makes you an object of ridicule.
Trying to do the right thing is evidently the wrong thing.
That seems shameful to me.
I thought someone had understood what I had tried to say...I was mistaken. The person I tried to give credit to appears to know how to talk out of both sides of her mouth.
*sigh*
People never cease to amaze me.
Luckily, I'm empty-brained and vapid, so this will not trouble me for long.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Those were the days my friend, we thought they'd never end...
but first...
Thank you everyone for the lovely comments on yesterday's post. :) Quite brightened my day, that did.
Remember...
...when schools did not require metal detectors, or even security guards?
...when Kindergarteners did not bring crack to school?
...when Judges did not find it necessary to use 'penis-pumps' under their robes whilst hearing cases? (or at least didn't get caught)
Yeah, that was cool.
Remember...
The TV show "CHiPs"? (California Highway Patrol)
Here in Okieland, I guess it would have to be called "OoHPs".
from the Obits...
Cafe Carlyle is in mourning, as are many of us who appreciated the talents of Bobby Short. Sing us out, Bobby.
'Tis the season...
...to find shelter! fa la la la laaaa la la la la
Tornadoes found their way home to Okieland last night.
Oh Joy.
I guess I'd better move the chair, ottoman, and CD case off the cellar door...which is set into my bedroom floor.
Thank you everyone for the lovely comments on yesterday's post. :) Quite brightened my day, that did.
Remember...
...when schools did not require metal detectors, or even security guards?
...when Kindergarteners did not bring crack to school?
...when Judges did not find it necessary to use 'penis-pumps' under their robes whilst hearing cases? (or at least didn't get caught)
Yeah, that was cool.
Remember...
The TV show "CHiPs"? (California Highway Patrol)
Here in Okieland, I guess it would have to be called "OoHPs".
from the Obits...
Cafe Carlyle is in mourning, as are many of us who appreciated the talents of Bobby Short. Sing us out, Bobby.
'Tis the season...
...to find shelter! fa la la la laaaa la la la la
Tornadoes found their way home to Okieland last night.
Oh Joy.
I guess I'd better move the chair, ottoman, and CD case off the cellar door...which is set into my bedroom floor.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Girls just wanna have fun...
Recently Michele and The Good Doctors had some things to say about feminism.
In Michele's comment section, I found I agree completely with most of her readers...in particular
Ella who said: "I think I would say that I embrace the doctrine of feminism, rather than the movement"
and Mamacita who said:
"People make the simplest things complex on purpose, I swear."
So I thought I'd add my 2 cents.
I realize I'm taking it to extremes here...but many of the feminists took it to extremes, once upon a time. And some still do. Michele and Sigmund, Carl, and Alfred made eloquent posts on the subject of feminism...I'm afraid that my words are only a cheap imitation. But I didn't have anything else to say today. :)
I choose to focus on the little details that sometimes grow into mountainous proportions, for it seems some are threatened by anything they see as undermining their independence, rights, or personal freedoms.
I want to say what feminism is not, to me.
It is not snubbing a man for a courtly gesture, such as stepping back and allowing me to precede him into a room.
It is not rejecting the politeness of one who would hold my chair for me.
It is not making an issue over who 'gets' to pay the check.
It is not deciding to harangue a man who has kindly offered assistance.
It is not treading the boundaries of impoliteness, just so someone will KNOW that I am a capable person.
It is not screaming to make myself heard, to show that I am empowered.
I do not think that having the right to vote, to be heard, to run for office, the ability to seek higher education, equal consideration for a job for which I am equally qualified, for all the other rights we women have (and have fought long and hard to get), should be mutually exclusive from the old-fashioned niceties.
A man who walks around the car to open my door is not taking anything away from me, as a woman.
If a man gives up his seat on the bus/train/whatever for me, he is not taking anything away from my womanhood.
If I should choose to sometimes submit my will to a man's will, this does not make me submissive.
Just so thezealots radical feminists will begin to froth at the mouth...
I confess that I like for a man to open my door.
I like for that same man to hold my chair.
I like for him to help me on or off with myclothes coat.
I feel charmed when a man asks me what I'd like when at a restaurant, and then when the waiter comes to our table, he says, "The lady will have..."
I like the knowledge that the aforementioned man will be picking up the check for my meal. And the movie or theater tickets. Or paying for my bowling shoe rental. Or whatever I have indicated that I'd like to do.
And, of course, the flowers he thoughtfully arrived with.
I like for a man to take out the garbage.
I like for a man to go and start the car & warm it up on freezing winter mornings.
Does liking all these things make me anti-feminist? Or anti-women's lib? Does it make me totally dependent upon a man for happiness and provision?
No, of course not.
Before you fall upon me with sticks and clubs, shrieking, "YOU MUST BE INDEPENDENT! You're allowing the men to steal that from you, to undermine your independence! If you act incapable of DOING for yourself, then men will continue to treat us as though we're incapable of taking care of ourselves! We'll be back to being submissive to men's demands! Stop effing it up for us!"...listen up:
I am so confident in my abilities to take care of myself, so confident of my very independence, that I do not need to shout it from the rooftops.
It is self-evident.
At the risk of sounding arrogant, after five minutes of conversation with me, you would realize that not only am I perfectly capable of lighting my own cigarette, holding my own door open, paying for my own check (and his as well), ordering my own meal, and putting on my own coat, I am also able to get from Point A to Point B without mishap, all by my little ownself. I can fix a clogged sink or toilet. I can change the oil in my car, as well as most of the filters. I know how to light the pilot light on my heater. I can change a tire. I can build a porch. I can kill the spiders in my house (although I would give up that right to anyone else who wanted to take that job).
I can do myriad other things, both big and small.
I earn my own living, I buy my own stuff, I do not depend on anyone other than myself to provide the things I want and need.
But that doesn't mean that I can't LIKE having help with those things, when I want it. Let us not forget that in WOMEN being equal to men...conversely that means MEN are equal to US.
You would further realize that I do have opinions (sometimes even very good ones), that I am not the least bit hesitant to share them, and if someone tries to steamroll me or treat me with condescension~~I am quite able (and willing!) to quickly disabuse them of that notion.
I would put them in their place with no more effort than it takes to swat a fly.
'Cause Monty don't play dat.
In Michele's comment section, I found I agree completely with most of her readers...in particular
Ella who said: "I think I would say that I embrace the doctrine of feminism, rather than the movement"
and Mamacita who said:
"People make the simplest things complex on purpose, I swear."
So I thought I'd add my 2 cents.
I realize I'm taking it to extremes here...but many of the feminists took it to extremes, once upon a time. And some still do. Michele and Sigmund, Carl, and Alfred made eloquent posts on the subject of feminism...I'm afraid that my words are only a cheap imitation. But I didn't have anything else to say today. :)
I choose to focus on the little details that sometimes grow into mountainous proportions, for it seems some are threatened by anything they see as undermining their independence, rights, or personal freedoms.
I want to say what feminism is not, to me.
It is not snubbing a man for a courtly gesture, such as stepping back and allowing me to precede him into a room.
It is not rejecting the politeness of one who would hold my chair for me.
It is not making an issue over who 'gets' to pay the check.
It is not deciding to harangue a man who has kindly offered assistance.
It is not treading the boundaries of impoliteness, just so someone will KNOW that I am a capable person.
It is not screaming to make myself heard, to show that I am empowered.
I do not think that having the right to vote, to be heard, to run for office, the ability to seek higher education, equal consideration for a job for which I am equally qualified, for all the other rights we women have (and have fought long and hard to get), should be mutually exclusive from the old-fashioned niceties.
A man who walks around the car to open my door is not taking anything away from me, as a woman.
If a man gives up his seat on the bus/train/whatever for me, he is not taking anything away from my womanhood.
If I should choose to sometimes submit my will to a man's will, this does not make me submissive.
Just so the
I confess that I like for a man to open my door.
I like for that same man to hold my chair.
I like for him to help me on or off with my
I feel charmed when a man asks me what I'd like when at a restaurant, and then when the waiter comes to our table, he says, "The lady will have..."
I like the knowledge that the aforementioned man will be picking up the check for my meal. And the movie or theater tickets. Or paying for my bowling shoe rental. Or whatever I have indicated that I'd like to do.
And, of course, the flowers he thoughtfully arrived with.
I like for a man to take out the garbage.
I like for a man to go and start the car & warm it up on freezing winter mornings.
Does liking all these things make me anti-feminist? Or anti-women's lib? Does it make me totally dependent upon a man for happiness and provision?
No, of course not.
Before you fall upon me with sticks and clubs, shrieking, "YOU MUST BE INDEPENDENT! You're allowing the men to steal that from you, to undermine your independence! If you act incapable of DOING for yourself, then men will continue to treat us as though we're incapable of taking care of ourselves! We'll be back to being submissive to men's demands! Stop effing it up for us!"...listen up:
I am so confident in my abilities to take care of myself, so confident of my very independence, that I do not need to shout it from the rooftops.
It is self-evident.
At the risk of sounding arrogant, after five minutes of conversation with me, you would realize that not only am I perfectly capable of lighting my own cigarette, holding my own door open, paying for my own check (and his as well), ordering my own meal, and putting on my own coat, I am also able to get from Point A to Point B without mishap, all by my little ownself. I can fix a clogged sink or toilet. I can change the oil in my car, as well as most of the filters. I know how to light the pilot light on my heater. I can change a tire. I can build a porch. I can kill the spiders in my house (although I would give up that right to anyone else who wanted to take that job).
I can do myriad other things, both big and small.
I earn my own living, I buy my own stuff, I do not depend on anyone other than myself to provide the things I want and need.
But that doesn't mean that I can't LIKE having help with those things, when I want it. Let us not forget that in WOMEN being equal to men...conversely that means MEN are equal to US.
You would further realize that I do have opinions (sometimes even very good ones), that I am not the least bit hesitant to share them, and if someone tries to steamroll me or treat me with condescension~~I am quite able (and willing!) to quickly disabuse them of that notion.
I would put them in their place with no more effort than it takes to swat a fly.
'Cause Monty don't play dat.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
TV Guide
but first, just to make you jealous...
The Weather Report
Coming to you live from Okieland, where it is a gorgeous sunny and 67º. And it's only 12:49pm
in my opinion...
Darrell Hammond as Chris Matthews = FUNNY
Last night I watched one of my favorite Charlton Heston movies...
No, not Soylent Green.
"It's PEEEOOOPLE! SOYLENT GREEN IS PEEEEOOOOOOOPPPLLLEE!"
Not even Planet of the Apes.
"Get your stinkin' paws off me, you damn, dirty apes!"
It was The Ten Commandments.
"So let it be written...so let it be done." (okay, I know that wasn't Charlton's line, but I like it. So let it be written...)
I do love that movie.
And I love the story behind the movie.
Beautiful.
Plus the added bonus of a whoooole cast of hunky, half-naked, sweaty men.
P.S. Yul Brynner is the reason I find bald men totally hot.
and in the spirit of Chris Farley...
You...you 'member that time when Colin Farrell hosted Saturday Night Live? You 'member the end of the show, when Colin said, "I shit you not" on live TV?
That was cool.
and the wrap up...
In the words of Naven Johnson:
"The Lord loves a workin' man."
"Don't trust whitey."
"See a doctor and get rid of it."
Thank you and goodnight!
**UPDATE:
How do I know Spring has sprung?
Because I am currently eating a Blue Bunny Big Dipper ice cream cone...purchased from the Ice Cream Truck that just stopped at my house.
Yum.
The Weather Report
Coming to you live from Okieland, where it is a gorgeous sunny and 67º. And it's only 12:49pm
in my opinion...
Darrell Hammond as Chris Matthews = FUNNY
Last night I watched one of my favorite Charlton Heston movies...
No, not Soylent Green.
"It's PEEEOOOPLE! SOYLENT GREEN IS PEEEEOOOOOOOPPPLLLEE!"
Not even Planet of the Apes.
"Get your stinkin' paws off me, you damn, dirty apes!"
It was The Ten Commandments.
"So let it be written...so let it be done." (okay, I know that wasn't Charlton's line, but I like it. So let it be written...)
I do love that movie.
And I love the story behind the movie.
Beautiful.
Plus the added bonus of a whoooole cast of hunky, half-naked, sweaty men.
P.S. Yul Brynner is the reason I find bald men totally hot.
and in the spirit of Chris Farley...
You...you 'member that time when Colin Farrell hosted Saturday Night Live? You 'member the end of the show, when Colin said, "I shit you not" on live TV?
That was cool.
and the wrap up...
In the words of Naven Johnson:
"The Lord loves a workin' man."
"Don't trust whitey."
"See a doctor and get rid of it."
Thank you and goodnight!
**UPDATE:
How do I know Spring has sprung?
Because I am currently eating a Blue Bunny Big Dipper ice cream cone...purchased from the Ice Cream Truck that just stopped at my house.
Yum.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Weep no more, my lady
I am accustomed to the tears which spring to my eyes during the singing of hymns. It began a couple of years ago when I was struggling through an extremely trying time, and has stuck with me ever since.
A few days ago I was watching PBS~~it is their annual Show-Me-The-Money Festival and they have lots of excellent programs~~when I discovered that a violin concerto also has the power to move me to tears.
I have a new love.
His name is Andrè Rieu.
Wow.
our top story...
Recently a lovely lady took me to task over a rather...vituperative post I made quite some time ago.
To my surprise, this did not degenerate into a hurling of insults and an onslaught of angry emails (which seems to be the typical reaction these days, whenever anyone offers a dissenting opinion of someone else's words).
Instead, I thanked her for her opinion and taking the time to give it (for real, not the normal sarcastic way).
She was kind enough to allow me to elaborate on my POV.
She was generous enough of mind and spirit to consider that I might have a good point or two, after all.
I afforded her the same respect.
It just goes to prove to me, yet again, that understanding (if not agreement) is within the realm of possibility when people remember to actually listen (read?) and take the time to willingly open our minds even the slightest bit.
Try to see things another way, for once~~even if you only agree to disagree.
It also reminds me of how my thoughts and opinions are shaped and re-shaped by the faceless strangers who enter my 'life-sphere' every single day.
Just wanted to say thanks for that, people.
With all sincerity.
on a personal note...
I have just become aware that I have apparently paid my dues and been blogrolled by one of my favorite people.
*wink wink nudge nudge* You know who you are.
I am honoured...or something.
A few days ago I was watching PBS~~it is their annual Show-Me-The-Money Festival and they have lots of excellent programs~~when I discovered that a violin concerto also has the power to move me to tears.
I have a new love.
His name is Andrè Rieu.
Wow.
our top story...
Recently a lovely lady took me to task over a rather...vituperative post I made quite some time ago.
To my surprise, this did not degenerate into a hurling of insults and an onslaught of angry emails (which seems to be the typical reaction these days, whenever anyone offers a dissenting opinion of someone else's words).
Instead, I thanked her for her opinion and taking the time to give it (for real, not the normal sarcastic way).
She was kind enough to allow me to elaborate on my POV.
She was generous enough of mind and spirit to consider that I might have a good point or two, after all.
I afforded her the same respect.
It just goes to prove to me, yet again, that understanding (if not agreement) is within the realm of possibility when people remember to actually listen (read?) and take the time to willingly open our minds even the slightest bit.
Try to see things another way, for once~~even if you only agree to disagree.
It also reminds me of how my thoughts and opinions are shaped and re-shaped by the faceless strangers who enter my 'life-sphere' every single day.
Just wanted to say thanks for that, people.
With all sincerity.
on a personal note...
I have just become aware that I have apparently paid my dues and been blogrolled by one of my favorite people.
*wink wink nudge nudge* You know who you are.
I am honoured...or something.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Faith and begorrah!
but first...
Another round of THANK YOU to each and every one of you for your kind thoughts. I have a fabulous support network. :)
Now, as I'm extremely Irish meself, I shall now build us some pints of Guinness and sing "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling", followed by the classic "Danny Boy".
You may want to pick up a pair of earplugs from the bowl by the door.
I'm sad to say I've never been to kiss the Blarney Stone...although I did have a pet rock named Barney at one time and I kissed that. Perhaps that's why my face turns purple when I get angry.
And could be a contributing factor to the large yellow spots on my belly.
MY FAVORITE IRISH JOKE~~
Two Irish guys walk out of a bar...
...Don't LAUGH! It could happen!
Now, in honor of my ancestors, and St. Pat, I will now offer some of my favorite toasts, just for you.
"May the grass grow long on the road to hell for want of use.
May you be in heaven...a half hour before the devil knows you're dead.
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the rains fall soft upon your fields,
And may God hold you in the palm of his hand,
Until we meet again.
Here is to the fools of the world...
without them, the rest of us could not succeed.
May the most you wish for be the least you get.
While we live, Let us live.
Here's to the men of all classes,
Who through lasses and glasses,
Will make themselves asses.
Here's to our wives and lovers,
May they never meet!
May you find the pot of gold at the end of every rainbow.
Friendship is the wine of life,
Let's drink of it, and to it.
Here's to a friend,
He knows you well...
And likes you just the same!"
(and finally, one of me own)
When you fall into dung,
may you always come up with a four-leaf clover.
SLAINTE!
Another round of THANK YOU to each and every one of you for your kind thoughts. I have a fabulous support network. :)
Now, as I'm extremely Irish meself, I shall now build us some pints of Guinness and sing "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling", followed by the classic "Danny Boy".
You may want to pick up a pair of earplugs from the bowl by the door.
I'm sad to say I've never been to kiss the Blarney Stone...although I did have a pet rock named Barney at one time and I kissed that. Perhaps that's why my face turns purple when I get angry.
And could be a contributing factor to the large yellow spots on my belly.
MY FAVORITE IRISH JOKE~~
Two Irish guys walk out of a bar...
...Don't LAUGH! It could happen!
Now, in honor of my ancestors, and St. Pat, I will now offer some of my favorite toasts, just for you.
"May the grass grow long on the road to hell for want of use.
May you be in heaven...a half hour before the devil knows you're dead.
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the rains fall soft upon your fields,
And may God hold you in the palm of his hand,
Until we meet again.
Here is to the fools of the world...
without them, the rest of us could not succeed.
May the most you wish for be the least you get.
While we live, Let us live.
Here's to the men of all classes,
Who through lasses and glasses,
Will make themselves asses.
Here's to our wives and lovers,
May they never meet!
May you find the pot of gold at the end of every rainbow.
Friendship is the wine of life,
Let's drink of it, and to it.
Here's to a friend,
He knows you well...
And likes you just the same!"
(and finally, one of me own)
When you fall into dung,
may you always come up with a four-leaf clover.
SLAINTE!
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Humbled and hat in hand...
So, my parents want to retire.
In case you didn't know, my mom & her husband (my dad-dad-daddy-o by adoption) own the place where they, my sister, and I work.
They want to sell it. Immediately, if not sooner.
That can only mean one thing...very, very soon, I'm going to have to find gainful employment.
*sigh*
Gone will be the days of working just while the kids are in school...of being able to take off at a moment's notice to pick up a sick child from school or attend a music program that I wasn't notified about until the night before...
Most employers (and I speak from experience here) frown upon that sort of thing.
The one time in my life that I've been dismissed (okay okay, FIRED, for crap's sake) was due to the fact that I frequently had to lug my kids along to work with me. Especially on weekends, when there was no daycare to be found.
My employees were great, extremely helpful...but my boss..well, he wasn't so okay with it. "A clear violation of company policy, Ms. G."
My son, being severely disabled, has a hard time with broken routines and strangers. So it was doubly hard on him to be carted off to Mommy's work for 12 or so hours.
Anyway.
I'm not trying to be a whiner...
But if you're out on the street and I approach you with my little tin cup saying, "Got any spare change, Mister/Miss?"
then please reach deep, deep into your pockets and help a poor girl out. :) Only try not to give me all pennies.
And to that end, I will be adding a (yes, I never thought I'd see the day) DONATION button to my sidebar this week, so if you have any wealthy, philanthropic friends who are looking for a (semi-good) cause, encourage them to come on by and give 'til it hurts.
Or maybe I'll win the lottery.
Hey, it could happen.
And now, just because I like to feel like a smarty-pants...
In case you didn't know, my mom & her husband (my dad-dad-daddy-o by adoption) own the place where they, my sister, and I work.
They want to sell it. Immediately, if not sooner.
That can only mean one thing...very, very soon, I'm going to have to find gainful employment.
*sigh*
Gone will be the days of working just while the kids are in school...of being able to take off at a moment's notice to pick up a sick child from school or attend a music program that I wasn't notified about until the night before...
Most employers (and I speak from experience here) frown upon that sort of thing.
The one time in my life that I've been dismissed (okay okay, FIRED, for crap's sake) was due to the fact that I frequently had to lug my kids along to work with me. Especially on weekends, when there was no daycare to be found.
My employees were great, extremely helpful...but my boss..well, he wasn't so okay with it. "A clear violation of company policy, Ms. G."
My son, being severely disabled, has a hard time with broken routines and strangers. So it was doubly hard on him to be carted off to Mommy's work for 12 or so hours.
Anyway.
I'm not trying to be a whiner...
But if you're out on the street and I approach you with my little tin cup saying, "Got any spare change, Mister/Miss?"
then please reach deep, deep into your pockets and help a poor girl out. :) Only try not to give me all pennies.
And to that end, I will be adding a (yes, I never thought I'd see the day) DONATION button to my sidebar this week, so if you have any wealthy, philanthropic friends who are looking for a (semi-good) cause, encourage them to come on by and give 'til it hurts.
Or maybe I'll win the lottery.
Hey, it could happen.
And now, just because I like to feel like a smarty-pants...
You Are Incredibly Logical |
 (You got 100% of the questions right) Move over Spock - you're the new master of logic You think rationally, clearly, and quickly. A seasoned problem solver, your mind is like a computer! |
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Can you feel the love tonight?
*****Please go to THE KING OF BLOGS and vote for Janet atThe Art Of Getting By, one of my favorite people.
JUST DO IT.
I'd like to offer a giant Okieland THANK YOU for all the warm thoughts, best wishes, prayers, and hugs.
I appreciate each and every one of 'em...have I told you lately that I love you?
So Pops is doing pretty well...it seems that the blood was pooling a little bit in his heart instead of getting pumped through, causing an irregular heartbeat. The good news is, with proper diet and medication he should be just fine.
The diet part worries me a bit...he do love his ice cream before bed. ;)
from the Guilty Pleasures file...
I must confess...
I am a closet Buffy, The Vampire Slayer fan.
Ssshhhhhhhh. Don't tell anyone. I can't afford for that information to leak out~~it could seriously damage my reputation.
In my defense, I never watched it whilst it was on prime-time.
No way, no how, huh-uh.
I sneered at the whole idea of vampire slaying as good entertainment, complete with an Elvis-type sneer and a supercilious lift of the eyebrow. Sarah Michelle Gellar...pah. *yaaaaaaawn*
One Sunday night, I was channel surfing~~there was nothing 'good' on. So I picked up a book and let the channel rest on a commercial.
Then Buffy appeared...and I discovered the miracle of Joss Whedon (who I had known only from Toy Story fame).
I actually laughed out loud several times during the show...that Xander! Funny guy.
Then Spike appeared...and I fell in lust. *sigh*
YUM.
Poor, misunderstood vampire/killer/bloodsucker...he just needed some love, I'm convinced.
I got some for him, if he ever comes my way.
So now every single Sunday night, you can find me curled up in my favorite chair, watching Buffy.
Stop laughing, you.
Now, tell me some of your guilty pleasures. 'Fess up now...I promise not to sneer.
But I might flare my nostrils a little bit.
from the "Who Gives A Shit" files...
I've got to stop eating jalapeños...bleurgh.
JUST DO IT.
I'd like to offer a giant Okieland THANK YOU for all the warm thoughts, best wishes, prayers, and hugs.
I appreciate each and every one of 'em...have I told you lately that I love you?
So Pops is doing pretty well...it seems that the blood was pooling a little bit in his heart instead of getting pumped through, causing an irregular heartbeat. The good news is, with proper diet and medication he should be just fine.
The diet part worries me a bit...he do love his ice cream before bed. ;)
from the Guilty Pleasures file...
I must confess...
I am a closet Buffy, The Vampire Slayer fan.
Ssshhhhhhhh. Don't tell anyone. I can't afford for that information to leak out~~it could seriously damage my reputation.
In my defense, I never watched it whilst it was on prime-time.
No way, no how, huh-uh.
I sneered at the whole idea of vampire slaying as good entertainment, complete with an Elvis-type sneer and a supercilious lift of the eyebrow. Sarah Michelle Gellar...pah. *yaaaaaaawn*
One Sunday night, I was channel surfing~~there was nothing 'good' on. So I picked up a book and let the channel rest on a commercial.
Then Buffy appeared...and I discovered the miracle of Joss Whedon (who I had known only from Toy Story fame).
I actually laughed out loud several times during the show...that Xander! Funny guy.
Then Spike appeared...and I fell in lust. *sigh*
YUM.
Poor, misunderstood vampire/killer/bloodsucker...he just needed some love, I'm convinced.
I got some for him, if he ever comes my way.
So now every single Sunday night, you can find me curled up in my favorite chair, watching Buffy.
Stop laughing, you.
Now, tell me some of your guilty pleasures. 'Fess up now...I promise not to sneer.
But I might flare my nostrils a little bit.
from the "Who Gives A Shit" files...
I've got to stop eating jalapeños...bleurgh.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Find a happy place...find a happy place...
My stepmother called me this morning before church...my dad's in the hospital. They thought it was a heart attack...but are now thinking it's possibly arrhythmia.
I hope.
Forgive me for not being better company today. I think I'll just go home and stew. Or make some stew. Whatever.
I can't even think of one funny thing to say.
But come back tomorrow...*tries a horrible southern accent* "For tomorrow IS anothah day!"
Now, ala Steve Martin, I must go put bologna in my shoes so that perhaps I can feel funny.
I hope.
Forgive me for not being better company today. I think I'll just go home and stew. Or make some stew. Whatever.
I can't even think of one funny thing to say.
But come back tomorrow...*tries a horrible southern accent* "For tomorrow IS anothah day!"
Now, ala Steve Martin, I must go put bologna in my shoes so that perhaps I can feel funny.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
The World According To Monty
Friendship is...
...hearing the exact same stories for the third, fourth...or tenth time, and making all the appropriate responses in all the right places.
...TELLING the exact same stories for the third, fourth...or tenth time, and your friend nods and smiles in all the right places, like she's just hearing it for the first time.
...seeing the best friend's other half without his upper plate in.
...sleeping on an air mattress.
...Venti Caffé Mochas and Caramel Macchiatos.
...lazy Saturday mornings sharing the newspaper and pancakes.
...building a new hutch at 1am.
...deciphering 12 pages of instructions with so many pieces that the entire alphabet was used...twice.
...two joyous mommy-smiles whilst watching a boy, a girl, and a new puppy.
...not having to say "Excuse me" for the excessive belching that follows two heaping plates from the Hunan Wok buffet.
...poking fun at the other's silly habits.
...being picked on for something stupid you said or did.
...not having to ask where the glasses and silverware are.
...letting someone else yell at your kid.
...yelling at someone else's kid.
...singing in the grocery store.
...unrestrained laughter.
...a hand outstretched in assistance before you even have to ask.
...hearing the exact same stories for the third, fourth...or tenth time, and making all the appropriate responses in all the right places.
...TELLING the exact same stories for the third, fourth...or tenth time, and your friend nods and smiles in all the right places, like she's just hearing it for the first time.
...seeing the best friend's other half without his upper plate in.
...sleeping on an air mattress.
...Venti Caffé Mochas and Caramel Macchiatos.
...lazy Saturday mornings sharing the newspaper and pancakes.
...building a new hutch at 1am.
...deciphering 12 pages of instructions with so many pieces that the entire alphabet was used...twice.
...two joyous mommy-smiles whilst watching a boy, a girl, and a new puppy.
...not having to say "Excuse me" for the excessive belching that follows two heaping plates from the Hunan Wok buffet.
...poking fun at the other's silly habits.
...being picked on for something stupid you said or did.
...not having to ask where the glasses and silverware are.
...letting someone else yell at your kid.
...yelling at someone else's kid.
...singing in the grocery store.
...unrestrained laughter.
...a hand outstretched in assistance before you even have to ask.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Well, that's just craptastic. Hmph.
Seems I have hit a snag in my game...I still find myself unable to post blogger.com comments. I get the lovely "blog not found" message.
*insert heavy sigh*
There are so many of my blog-pals that I have things to say to...and find myself under a gag order. Silenced.
That so doesn't work for me.
Blogger...I'm comin' to get you, Blogger...
*insert heavy sigh*
There are so many of my blog-pals that I have things to say to...and find myself under a gag order. Silenced.
That so doesn't work for me.
Blogger...I'm comin' to get you, Blogger...
Chain chain chain...chain of fools...
I'm going to play a game today. It's sort of a rip-off (and not nearly as fun!) as Michele's Meet & Greet...
But anyway.
I'm going to choose someone on my blogroll, and go leave a comment on the topmost post.
Then I'm going to choose someone from their blogroll (that I've never read before), and go leave a comment.
Then I'll choose someone from their blogroll...etc etc.
You folks are smart, I'm sure you get the general idea.
Basically I want to see where I end up in an hour.
It is interesting to see what different people like to read...and it's sort of like Six Degrees of Separation (or whateverthehell that game is called), because in the end, it all links back to yrs. truly.
Wanna play with me?
in other news...
I'm sad to report that I'm...back on the coke.
*sigh*
Coca-cola, that is.
Sweet, caramel-coloured goodness in a bottle.
It has been, oh, probably a year since I have had more than one small coca-cola per week, if that.
But yesterday at Sonic, while ordering some delicious Extreme Tots, I had a craving that would not be denied.
As if from far away, I heard myself order a Route 44 CHERRY VANILLA COKE.
I slurped it down in ecstasy, giving myself a nice shooting pain in the forehead.
Then I belched for about 12 seconds without stopping.
Bliss.
But anyway.
I'm going to choose someone on my blogroll, and go leave a comment on the topmost post.
Then I'm going to choose someone from their blogroll (that I've never read before), and go leave a comment.
Then I'll choose someone from their blogroll...etc etc.
You folks are smart, I'm sure you get the general idea.
Basically I want to see where I end up in an hour.
It is interesting to see what different people like to read...and it's sort of like Six Degrees of Separation (or whateverthehell that game is called), because in the end, it all links back to yrs. truly.
Wanna play with me?
in other news...
I'm sad to report that I'm...back on the coke.
*sigh*
Coca-cola, that is.
Sweet, caramel-coloured goodness in a bottle.
It has been, oh, probably a year since I have had more than one small coca-cola per week, if that.
But yesterday at Sonic, while ordering some delicious Extreme Tots, I had a craving that would not be denied.
As if from far away, I heard myself order a Route 44 CHERRY VANILLA COKE.
I slurped it down in ecstasy, giving myself a nice shooting pain in the forehead.
Then I belched for about 12 seconds without stopping.
Bliss.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Good Morning, Glory!
Well, it's morning somewhere in the world.
I meant to add this to my earlier post...so in re-tracing my steps I have so far managed to find one lost thought.
Okieland Newsie...
It seems that the new, cheap "HIGH" currently in fashion is...eating Morning Glory seeds. Yep, the flowers. From the little packets of seeds that anyone can pick up anywhere flowers seeds are sold. Wal-Mart. TLC Gardening Center. Horn's Supply.
Wherever.
Word on the street has it that the Morning Glory seeds produce a hallucinogenic state, somewhat comparable to LSD. (oh great, now my blog will be popping up on GOOGLE whenever someone's surfing for dope)
Anyway.
What I'd like to know is...who ate these seeds in the first place, and why?! Who was sitting around one day, thinking, "Hey, I'm a little hungry after smokin' all that weed...these are some weird-ass lookin' sunflower seeds...oh well..."
So you Green Thumbs be warned...when you get ready to plant your lovely front gardens you'll have to go look for that guy on the street corner...y'know, that guy near the alley, with the long coat, whispering, "PSSST! You wanna buy some flowers? Got a dime bag here...on sale for a quarter."
On another note...
Today I discovered that it takes me approximately 2 hours to get through my entire blogroll...and that's without leaving comments in most cases.
But I read more than just the top post.
I'm just sayin'.
I meant to add this to my earlier post...so in re-tracing my steps I have so far managed to find one lost thought.
Okieland Newsie...
It seems that the new, cheap "HIGH" currently in fashion is...eating Morning Glory seeds. Yep, the flowers. From the little packets of seeds that anyone can pick up anywhere flowers seeds are sold. Wal-Mart. TLC Gardening Center. Horn's Supply.
Wherever.
Word on the street has it that the Morning Glory seeds produce a hallucinogenic state, somewhat comparable to LSD. (oh great, now my blog will be popping up on GOOGLE whenever someone's surfing for dope)
Anyway.
What I'd like to know is...who ate these seeds in the first place, and why?! Who was sitting around one day, thinking, "Hey, I'm a little hungry after smokin' all that weed...these are some weird-ass lookin' sunflower seeds...oh well..."
So you Green Thumbs be warned...when you get ready to plant your lovely front gardens you'll have to go look for that guy on the street corner...y'know, that guy near the alley, with the long coat, whispering, "PSSST! You wanna buy some flowers? Got a dime bag here...on sale for a quarter."
On another note...
Today I discovered that it takes me approximately 2 hours to get through my entire blogroll...and that's without leaving comments in most cases.
But I read more than just the top post.
I'm just sayin'.
Licking your wounds...
...is perfectly acceptable.
Licking someone else's wounds...now, that's quite a different story.
Gak.
In the Okieland Newsie this morning, there was an article about a basketball(I believe) coach who actually licked the scab on one of the player's knees.
Now, I'm a mommy, as such I am perfectly able to wade through blood, poo, throw up, and snot without batting an eye...but even I have my limits.
For crap's sake.
So the coach has been suspended and has to take some blood-pathogen training classes.
What the hell was going through his mind?
And to Michael J....take an effin' aspirin and get over yourself. And get dressed while you're at it, freak.
I am attempting to switch my comments over to haloscan, but for those of you who know (and love!) me, you are aware that I'm a total idiot when it comes to all things technical.
So please forgive me if it doesn't work just right just yet.
I'm workin' on it.
I thought I had some interesting things to say...but evidently I was mistaken. I will have to re-trace my steps today to see if I can locate the lost thoughts.
Wish me luck.
Licking someone else's wounds...now, that's quite a different story.
Gak.
In the Okieland Newsie this morning, there was an article about a basketball(I believe) coach who actually licked the scab on one of the player's knees.
Now, I'm a mommy, as such I am perfectly able to wade through blood, poo, throw up, and snot without batting an eye...but even I have my limits.
For crap's sake.
So the coach has been suspended and has to take some blood-pathogen training classes.
What the hell was going through his mind?
And to Michael J....take an effin' aspirin and get over yourself. And get dressed while you're at it, freak.
I am attempting to switch my comments over to haloscan, but for those of you who know (and love!) me, you are aware that I'm a total idiot when it comes to all things technical.
So please forgive me if it doesn't work just right just yet.
I'm workin' on it.
I thought I had some interesting things to say...but evidently I was mistaken. I will have to re-trace my steps today to see if I can locate the lost thoughts.
Wish me luck.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Monty Explains It All
but first...
I got a haircut today, for the first time in 2 1/2 years. Some day I'll post a picture of my last haircut...and you'll understand why I waited so long.
But this one turned out fabulously.
My daughter's homework...they were given 3-word sets that you had to make a compound word out of. You know: quarter, running, half~~the kids had to add back. This one took even me a few minutes to figure out...
Hand
Lithe
Win
WHO uses the word WINSOME anymore?! Or LITHESOME? And could reasonably expect third graders to know it? Just curious...
Perhaps some isn't the right word to use. Any other ideas, gang?
Thin ah stoled this f'um ovah to Psychobabble's place...
Well, hot damn! I knew I'd find some use for my education...
Now, our featured presentation...
For those of you who requested a bit more information about Russell Crowe and me...you can't say you haven't been warned that it sounds more exciting than it is.
Okay, so, most big Russell Crowe fans are aware that he has a band. It's called Thirty-Odd Foot Of Grunts (called so after some footage from the film Virtuosity)...or TOFOG for short.
I (and several online friends that I got to meet in person) went to Austin, Texas a few years ago for a TOFOG concert. In the middle of summer. For those of you who've never been to Austin in the summertime...don't go. It's miserably hot.
But I digress.
After waiting in the hot sun for hours and hours, sweaty tickets clutched in sweatier palms, we finally got to enter the venue~~Stubb's BBQ. They've a sort of outdoor amphitheater in the back. As my group had sacrificed our very health by the hours we risked certain heatstroke, we were amongst the first ones to show our tickets and race toward the stage. We managed, with much cursing, pushing, and shoving, to secure for ourselves some PRIMO places right in front of the stage.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Up close and personal with Russ.
Fabulous. Yum. Delightful.
Hot and sweaty.
I had a bandana in my pocket, to catch those unsightly drips of sweat before they could roll themselves down my forehead and into my eyes.
Of course, when Russell and band started really a-jammin', they got hot and sweaty too.
Then...
Russell shook his head back & forth, spraying everything within 5 feet with glistening drops of perspiration.
I was within two feet of him. If he'd have had on a skirt, I'd have been able to look right up it.
I basked in the Crowe-sweat for a few seconds, then took my bandana and mixed our body fluids together for all of time.
I keep the bandana in a plastic bag.
Is that weird?
AFTER the concert, whilst my group and I were waiting for a cab...RUSSELL CAME OUT OF THE VENUE.
THE CAR STOPPED RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, as I was waiting at the curb.
ME: Hey, great show! We really loved it. You rock!
thinking: you rock? DUMBASS! THINK OF SOMETHING CLEVER TO SAY!
RUSSELL: Thanks, we had a good time.
ME: You guys were amazing (still, nothing clever is jumping to mind)
RUSSELL: Yeah, thanks, we're pretty worn out by it. Thanks for coming to the show.
And with that, he drove away...
*sigh*
But I'll always have the sweat.
And Russ & I...well, we'll always have Austin.
I got a haircut today, for the first time in 2 1/2 years. Some day I'll post a picture of my last haircut...and you'll understand why I waited so long.
But this one turned out fabulously.
My daughter's homework...they were given 3-word sets that you had to make a compound word out of. You know: quarter, running, half~~the kids had to add back. This one took even me a few minutes to figure out...
Hand
Lithe
Win
WHO uses the word WINSOME anymore?! Or LITHESOME? And could reasonably expect third graders to know it? Just curious...
Perhaps some isn't the right word to use. Any other ideas, gang?
Thin ah stoled this f'um ovah to Psychobabble's place...
| English Genius You scored 100% Beginner, 100% Intermediate, 100% Advanced, and 87% Expert! |
| You did so extremely well, even I can't find a word to describe your excellence! You have the uncommon intelligence necessary to understand things that most people don't. You have an extensive vocabulary, and you're not afraid to use it properly! Way to go! |
| Link: The Commonly Confused Words Test written by shortredhead78 on Ok Cupid |
Well, hot damn! I knew I'd find some use for my education...
Now, our featured presentation...
For those of you who requested a bit more information about Russell Crowe and me...you can't say you haven't been warned that it sounds more exciting than it is.
Okay, so, most big Russell Crowe fans are aware that he has a band. It's called Thirty-Odd Foot Of Grunts (called so after some footage from the film Virtuosity)...or TOFOG for short.
I (and several online friends that I got to meet in person) went to Austin, Texas a few years ago for a TOFOG concert. In the middle of summer. For those of you who've never been to Austin in the summertime...don't go. It's miserably hot.
But I digress.
After waiting in the hot sun for hours and hours, sweaty tickets clutched in sweatier palms, we finally got to enter the venue~~Stubb's BBQ. They've a sort of outdoor amphitheater in the back. As my group had sacrificed our very health by the hours we risked certain heatstroke, we were amongst the first ones to show our tickets and race toward the stage. We managed, with much cursing, pushing, and shoving, to secure for ourselves some PRIMO places right in front of the stage.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Up close and personal with Russ.
Fabulous. Yum. Delightful.
Hot and sweaty.
I had a bandana in my pocket, to catch those unsightly drips of sweat before they could roll themselves down my forehead and into my eyes.
Of course, when Russell and band started really a-jammin', they got hot and sweaty too.
Then...
Russell shook his head back & forth, spraying everything within 5 feet with glistening drops of perspiration.
I was within two feet of him. If he'd have had on a skirt, I'd have been able to look right up it.
I basked in the Crowe-sweat for a few seconds, then took my bandana and mixed our body fluids together for all of time.
I keep the bandana in a plastic bag.
Is that weird?
AFTER the concert, whilst my group and I were waiting for a cab...RUSSELL CAME OUT OF THE VENUE.
THE CAR STOPPED RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, as I was waiting at the curb.
ME: Hey, great show! We really loved it. You rock!
thinking: you rock? DUMBASS! THINK OF SOMETHING CLEVER TO SAY!
RUSSELL: Thanks, we had a good time.
ME: You guys were amazing (still, nothing clever is jumping to mind)
RUSSELL: Yeah, thanks, we're pretty worn out by it. Thanks for coming to the show.
And with that, he drove away...
*sigh*
But I'll always have the sweat.
And Russ & I...well, we'll always have Austin.
Monday, March 07, 2005
My very first blog-interview...
*claps with glee* Oh dear, I'm not sure I'm quite ready...does my hair look okay? Anything green or gross on my face? How 'bout my teeth? *wipes lipstick off teeth*
Today I was going to explain my "LIST OF THINGS...", but I do believe that it will wait until tomorrow. Today is a red-letter day (no, not a SCARLET A, in case you were wondering~~but that might be fun too) in the life of aka_monty, thanks to Seeing Double. This delightful mother of twins (GO TWIN'S MOMS!) has chosen to honour me as an interview subject. So please do NOT take issue with Seeing Double if this interview turns out to be dull, boring, and uninteresting. I accept full responsibility. :)
Now then...ACTION!
1. I've got to know about the pencil lead. How'd it get stuck in your thigh, and why didn't you get it taken out?
OH, the pencil lead. Well, I was in third grade, and was horsing around with a freshly sharpened pencil. Stuck it in my leg. It broke off, as these things have a tendency to do. I didn't get it removed because firstly, a friend of mine told me I'd probably die from lead poisoning, and I didn't want to get in trouble with my parents. Evidently I thought that if the lead didn't kill me, they would. So by the time I told them about it (a year or so later), it was too late. I can still see it in my leg, although I've gotten so...plump...it's much harder to see.
2. What can you tell us about your book? How long have you been working on it, and are you working on any others?
The book...well, that's sort of a grand way to put it! It's more like a collection of stories. When I was in college, I fancied myself quite the writer! I did actually manage to turn out a humorous story or two, mostly about the stupid things my family says and does. I wrote a really great (I think) story through the eyes of our cat...anyway, the idea is just to take my silly stories, polish up the "Diner Divas" tales, & perhaps someday make a little book. I guarantee we'll sell at least 10 copies. All to family members. And I'll give you an autographed one~~half price!
3. You have your choice of any man in the world, and you are guaranteed to have a long, happy marriage. Who do you pick and why?
All I can say is that if I already knew this guy, I'd've snatched him up. As I think about this question, I've sort of got a particular fella in mind...someone I had a fabulous relationship with. THAT saga is kept in my 'secret' LJ files. But I can tell you that the guy would have to fall in love with me AND my kids...be willing to take on a particular role in their lives. He'd have to be at least somewhat ambitious, hard-working, and be a good communicator. A fantastic sense of humor is a MUST when dealing with me...otherwise he'd probably just go nuts. Or let me drive him there. He would definitely have to put me in the 'top 5 priorities' list. I don't care if he doesn't cry when he watches Bambi or Old Yeller~~he doesn't have to be the most romantic guy in the world. Just...loving. Honest. Understanding (of my many, many, many quirks and issues). Good 'Dad' material. Also it wouldn't hurt if he had a totally smokin' ass. (and I think 'good in the sack' goes without saying) Oh yeah, and he has to take out the trash without being asked.
4. What do each of your kids do that makes your heart just melt? Do they use that to get their way?
My daughter, the drama queen...she knows all she has to do is turn those big ol' brown eyes on me and say "I love you, mom" and I will give her the world. The thought of disappointing that child breaks my heart, especially since she's such a good girl. I have SO many stories that illustrate her compassion and thoughtfulness, more than many adults I know. And YES, she certainly knows how to get around me. That kid is a hugger and a kisser...she knows what Mommy likes.
As for my son, he's got the most gorgeous belly laugh that I've ever heard, and the sweetest, most innocent smile in the world. Whenever he tips his giggle-box, I can't help but laugh. Then I have to hug and kiss him just because he's beautiful.
Both my babies understand how best to manipulate the mom.
5. Money is no object, and you are planning your dream home. Tell us about it, what special features are you putting in?
When I bought a lottery ticket whilst in Texas this past weekend, I actually gave this one some thought! (unfortunately, I did not win~~this time!)
As my son is disabled and in a wheelchair, my new house would most definitely include an elevator. And ramps. (Okay, so really they're for my lazy ass...but he needs 'em too!) I would HAVE to have auto-clean features in every room, from picking up to dusting to vacuuming (could someone get to work creating that for me? Thanks). If I could invent some sort of 'self-loading' diswasher, that would make my life complete! I was reading a book (somewhat futuristic) that had a device called an "Auto-Chef" which prepared delicious meals in minutes with the touch of a button...you can sign me up for one of those. A hot pool guy, a hot butler to see to my EVERY need *snicker*, and a hot gardener. Basically, plop me down in the middle of "The Jetson's" house. Complete with Rosie.
Thank you again, SeeingDouble, for taking the time to interview little ol' me! I hope I didn't disappoint too much.
Tune in tomorrow for Monty Explains It All. Same bat time, same bat channel...
Today I was going to explain my "LIST OF THINGS...", but I do believe that it will wait until tomorrow. Today is a red-letter day (no, not a SCARLET A, in case you were wondering~~but that might be fun too) in the life of aka_monty, thanks to Seeing Double. This delightful mother of twins (GO TWIN'S MOMS!) has chosen to honour me as an interview subject. So please do NOT take issue with Seeing Double if this interview turns out to be dull, boring, and uninteresting. I accept full responsibility. :)
Now then...ACTION!
1. I've got to know about the pencil lead. How'd it get stuck in your thigh, and why didn't you get it taken out?
OH, the pencil lead. Well, I was in third grade, and was horsing around with a freshly sharpened pencil. Stuck it in my leg. It broke off, as these things have a tendency to do. I didn't get it removed because firstly, a friend of mine told me I'd probably die from lead poisoning, and I didn't want to get in trouble with my parents. Evidently I thought that if the lead didn't kill me, they would. So by the time I told them about it (a year or so later), it was too late. I can still see it in my leg, although I've gotten so...plump...it's much harder to see.
2. What can you tell us about your book? How long have you been working on it, and are you working on any others?
The book...well, that's sort of a grand way to put it! It's more like a collection of stories. When I was in college, I fancied myself quite the writer! I did actually manage to turn out a humorous story or two, mostly about the stupid things my family says and does. I wrote a really great (I think) story through the eyes of our cat...anyway, the idea is just to take my silly stories, polish up the "Diner Divas" tales, & perhaps someday make a little book. I guarantee we'll sell at least 10 copies. All to family members. And I'll give you an autographed one~~half price!
3. You have your choice of any man in the world, and you are guaranteed to have a long, happy marriage. Who do you pick and why?
All I can say is that if I already knew this guy, I'd've snatched him up. As I think about this question, I've sort of got a particular fella in mind...someone I had a fabulous relationship with. THAT saga is kept in my 'secret' LJ files. But I can tell you that the guy would have to fall in love with me AND my kids...be willing to take on a particular role in their lives. He'd have to be at least somewhat ambitious, hard-working, and be a good communicator. A fantastic sense of humor is a MUST when dealing with me...otherwise he'd probably just go nuts. Or let me drive him there. He would definitely have to put me in the 'top 5 priorities' list. I don't care if he doesn't cry when he watches Bambi or Old Yeller~~he doesn't have to be the most romantic guy in the world. Just...loving. Honest. Understanding (of my many, many, many quirks and issues). Good 'Dad' material. Also it wouldn't hurt if he had a totally smokin' ass. (and I think 'good in the sack' goes without saying) Oh yeah, and he has to take out the trash without being asked.
4. What do each of your kids do that makes your heart just melt? Do they use that to get their way?
My daughter, the drama queen...she knows all she has to do is turn those big ol' brown eyes on me and say "I love you, mom" and I will give her the world. The thought of disappointing that child breaks my heart, especially since she's such a good girl. I have SO many stories that illustrate her compassion and thoughtfulness, more than many adults I know. And YES, she certainly knows how to get around me. That kid is a hugger and a kisser...she knows what Mommy likes.
As for my son, he's got the most gorgeous belly laugh that I've ever heard, and the sweetest, most innocent smile in the world. Whenever he tips his giggle-box, I can't help but laugh. Then I have to hug and kiss him just because he's beautiful.
Both my babies understand how best to manipulate the mom.
5. Money is no object, and you are planning your dream home. Tell us about it, what special features are you putting in?
When I bought a lottery ticket whilst in Texas this past weekend, I actually gave this one some thought! (unfortunately, I did not win~~this time!)
As my son is disabled and in a wheelchair, my new house would most definitely include an elevator. And ramps. (Okay, so really they're for my lazy ass...but he needs 'em too!) I would HAVE to have auto-clean features in every room, from picking up to dusting to vacuuming (could someone get to work creating that for me? Thanks). If I could invent some sort of 'self-loading' diswasher, that would make my life complete! I was reading a book (somewhat futuristic) that had a device called an "Auto-Chef" which prepared delicious meals in minutes with the touch of a button...you can sign me up for one of those. A hot pool guy, a hot butler to see to my EVERY need *snicker*, and a hot gardener. Basically, plop me down in the middle of "The Jetson's" house. Complete with Rosie.
Thank you again, SeeingDouble, for taking the time to interview little ol' me! I hope I didn't disappoint too much.
Tune in tomorrow for Monty Explains It All. Same bat time, same bat channel...
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Jumping on the bandwagon...or falling off the turnip truck
I never realized QUITE how mundane and ordinary my life was until I tried to think of TEN WHOLE unusual things about it.
Ah well.
10 Things I've Done That You Probably Haven't
(unless your life is as ridiculous as mine is)
1. I have hung upside down from a rope, suspended in midair by a helicopter
2. I have been on the National News
3. I have given birth via the normal route AND C-Section within 56 minutes of each other
4. I have engaged in conversation with Tone Loc
5. I have been sweated on by Russell Crowe (it sounds more exciting than it was)
6. I have had a straw wrapper blown at me off the end of a straw by country singer (has-been) Doug Stone
7. I have exchanged angry words with one of the Dixie Chicks
8. I began an acquaintanceship with Greg Mullavey (Tom Hartman of Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman), and he took me backstage after watching him perform King Lear
9. I have walked in on someone I didn't know shortly after they attempted suicide.
10. I have been serenaded by oboe with "The Girl From Ipanema"
Ah well.
10 Things I've Done That You Probably Haven't
(unless your life is as ridiculous as mine is)
1. I have hung upside down from a rope, suspended in midair by a helicopter
2. I have been on the National News
3. I have given birth via the normal route AND C-Section within 56 minutes of each other
4. I have engaged in conversation with Tone Loc
5. I have been sweated on by Russell Crowe (it sounds more exciting than it was)
6. I have had a straw wrapper blown at me off the end of a straw by country singer (has-been) Doug Stone
7. I have exchanged angry words with one of the Dixie Chicks
8. I began an acquaintanceship with Greg Mullavey (Tom Hartman of Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman), and he took me backstage after watching him perform King Lear
9. I have walked in on someone I didn't know shortly after they attempted suicide.
10. I have been serenaded by oboe with "The Girl From Ipanema"
Saturday, March 05, 2005
If I'd've had a sharp stick, I'd've put out my own eyes.
O WHAT A SIGHT WE DID SEE!
But first...
A big ol' sloppy wet THANK YOU smooch to Bob, Tommy, & Monkeyballs who think the blonde in the picture is cute. As that blonde happens to be me, my ego has now been stroked quite satisfactorily and monty is feeling happy.
From the Daily Bitch Sports Page...
Okay, so I went to Ft. Worth yesterday with my sister, to catch some CHL action.
Got our asses handed to us on a platter. (Ach, Blazers, what were you thinking?!
A perfectly lackluster performance, until the last five minutes of the game. With 2 goals scored in quick succession, the Blazers finally tied the score at 4 to 4.
Thus began the overtime...with no goals scored by either side.
Then...the bane of their existence...the SHOOT OUT.
The Blazers are not known for their capabilities in this particular area. *sigh*
Boyd Ballard (btw, thanks for the tickets, Boyd, even though I'm going to diss you a little bit) evidently does not see the puck well, since they continued to zip by him.
So when the final Brahma shot the puck...Boyd just watched it right into the goal.
Way to go, Boyd.
But as much as I love (most of) the Great State of Texas (and many of the people who reside there), there were some seriously disturbing events.
Apparently, it is customary for some of the Brahma fans to celebrate a goal in a rather unusual manner~~they take their shirts off and swing them around their heads.
I offer a few tips, or guidelines, to make this event more pleasurable (if that is even a possibility) for the rest of us:
1. If you're over, say, 40...do NOT take your shirt off.
2. If your waist size is more than, again I'll say 40 (inches)...do NOT take your shirt off.
3. If you are a candidate for the "man-bra"...do NOT take your shirt off.
4. If you've got more hair than a grizzly bear...do NOT take your shirt off.
5. If your back is as hairy than your front, if it looks like you're wearing a sweater even when you're naked...do NOT take your shirt off.
6. Ladies, if you have boobies that are hovering somewhere near your knees, even with a support bra...do NOT take your shirt off.
7. Ladies, if you've forgotten to shave your pits...do NOT take your shirt off.
Folks, this is a family show. I feel permanently scarred, and in need of serious therapy. The images are burned into my brain~~I had nightmares. *shudder*
Doctors, I hope you can fit me in for an emergency session today.
But first...
A big ol' sloppy wet THANK YOU smooch to Bob, Tommy, & Monkeyballs who think the blonde in the picture is cute. As that blonde happens to be me, my ego has now been stroked quite satisfactorily and monty is feeling happy.
From the Daily Bitch Sports Page...
Okay, so I went to Ft. Worth yesterday with my sister, to catch some CHL action.
Got our asses handed to us on a platter. (Ach, Blazers, what were you thinking?!
A perfectly lackluster performance, until the last five minutes of the game. With 2 goals scored in quick succession, the Blazers finally tied the score at 4 to 4.
Thus began the overtime...with no goals scored by either side.
Then...the bane of their existence...the SHOOT OUT.
The Blazers are not known for their capabilities in this particular area. *sigh*
Boyd Ballard (btw, thanks for the tickets, Boyd, even though I'm going to diss you a little bit) evidently does not see the puck well, since they continued to zip by him.
So when the final Brahma shot the puck...Boyd just watched it right into the goal.
Way to go, Boyd.
But as much as I love (most of) the Great State of Texas (and many of the people who reside there), there were some seriously disturbing events.
Apparently, it is customary for some of the Brahma fans to celebrate a goal in a rather unusual manner~~they take their shirts off and swing them around their heads.
I offer a few tips, or guidelines, to make this event more pleasurable (if that is even a possibility) for the rest of us:
1. If you're over, say, 40...do NOT take your shirt off.
2. If your waist size is more than, again I'll say 40 (inches)...do NOT take your shirt off.
3. If you are a candidate for the "man-bra"...do NOT take your shirt off.
4. If you've got more hair than a grizzly bear...do NOT take your shirt off.
5. If your back is as hairy than your front, if it looks like you're wearing a sweater even when you're naked...do NOT take your shirt off.
6. Ladies, if you have boobies that are hovering somewhere near your knees, even with a support bra...do NOT take your shirt off.
7. Ladies, if you've forgotten to shave your pits...do NOT take your shirt off.
Folks, this is a family show. I feel permanently scarred, and in need of serious therapy. The images are burned into my brain~~I had nightmares. *shudder*
Doctors, I hope you can fit me in for an emergency session today.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Sort of like MAD LIBS...only not.
One of the categories I had to fill in was "AMINAL". *sigh*
But the end result was fairly amusing...even if I DID have to make a couple of alterations regarding verb tense.
I do loves me some Mad Libs.
Let me read your Fairy Tale.
But the end result was fairly amusing...even if I DID have to make a couple of alterations regarding verb tense.
I do loves me some Mad Libs.
Once upon a time there has a young DENTAL HYGENIST named SIGMUND. He was SILENTLY PISSING in the OOZY forest when he met LICE-RIDDEN BOB, a run-away TRUCKDRIVER from the CRUSTY Queen BETTY.
SIGMUND could see that LICE-RIDDEN BOB was hungry so he reached into his BUCKET and give him his PURPLISH NOODLES. LICE-RIDDEN BOB was thankful for SIGMUND's NOODLES, so he told SIGMUND a very GIGANTIC story about Queen BETTY's daughter JEAN. How her mother, the CRUSTY Queen BETTY, kept her locked away in a LAUNDROMAT protected by a gigantic KITTEN, because JEAN was so FEEBLE-MINDED.
SIGMUND SANK. He vowed to LICE-RIDDEN BOB the TRUCKDRIVER that he would save the FEEBLE-MINDED JEAN. He would PINCH the KITTEN, and take JEAN far away from her evil mother, the CRUSTY Queen BETTY, and DRINK her.
Then, all of the sudden, there was a SNARKY TORNADO and LICE-RIDDEN BOB the TRUCKDRIVER began to laugh. With a puff of smoke he turned into the gigantic KITTEN from his story. CRUSTY Queen BETTY VOMITED out from behind a LAMPSHADE and struck SIGMUND dead. In the far off LAUNDROMAT you could hear a BELCH.
THE END.
Let me read your Fairy Tale.
Moronathon
Our topic today, class, is one of aka_monty's pet subjects. There are few things in this world that get me completely bent out of shape in a second or less...this is one of 'em.
So...
Dear Fellow Motorists,
I would like to thank you all today, for your fine attention to your driving. Especially those 10 or so of you who blew right by the school bus parked in front of my driveway this morning, as we were loading my son on.
If my daughter had been crossing the street in front of the bus (as she often does) to make her way to school, why, one of you might have hit her! Talk about starting your day off right!
And to the lady who nearly hit me as she attempted to drive past the bus when I walked into the middle of the road...you're lucky I didn't drag your ass right out of the car.
I'm very glad that you heard me shout at you, and stopped...and rolled down your window to say, "Sorry, I didn't see."
I ever-so-graciously accepted your apology with a jaunty, "How stupid are you?" before I walked back to the driveway.
I do realize that, much like an elephant in your living room, it may be difficult for you to see the big yellow bus with the red flashing lights and the S-T-O-P sign protruding from the side. How hard it must have been for you! I was unaware that your vision was so impaired...perhaps you should get a sticker so that you can park in the handicapped spots. With such poor eyesight, I'm sure you qualify.
Here's my advice: pull your cellphone off your ear and pull your head out of your ass. It should be warm by now.
I love the fine weather we're having now, so that you have your car windows down. That way, when I shout, "MORON!" at you, you can hear me clearly with no interference from the rolled-up window. Aaaaah. Springtime.
So be warned, Fellow Motorists...one morning I will catch you unawares, as I go out with my video camera on...and get your plate number. You do know that our Men In Blue will send you a little nasty-gram, to the tune of $150?
Did you further know that last year, in a 3-week period, no less than SIX children were hit, and three of them died?
Be vigilant, be observant. When you see a school bus with the STOP SIGN out...then use whatever little bit of gray matter you've got left and STOP. Or did you think that just meant everybody but you?
Now I must close, as I'm off to the police station to see if they will lend me some of that road carpet stuff with the nails in it.
See you tomorrow morning.
So...
Dear Fellow Motorists,
I would like to thank you all today, for your fine attention to your driving. Especially those 10 or so of you who blew right by the school bus parked in front of my driveway this morning, as we were loading my son on.
If my daughter had been crossing the street in front of the bus (as she often does) to make her way to school, why, one of you might have hit her! Talk about starting your day off right!
And to the lady who nearly hit me as she attempted to drive past the bus when I walked into the middle of the road...you're lucky I didn't drag your ass right out of the car.
I'm very glad that you heard me shout at you, and stopped...and rolled down your window to say, "Sorry, I didn't see."
I ever-so-graciously accepted your apology with a jaunty, "How stupid are you?" before I walked back to the driveway.
I do realize that, much like an elephant in your living room, it may be difficult for you to see the big yellow bus with the red flashing lights and the S-T-O-P sign protruding from the side. How hard it must have been for you! I was unaware that your vision was so impaired...perhaps you should get a sticker so that you can park in the handicapped spots. With such poor eyesight, I'm sure you qualify.
Here's my advice: pull your cellphone off your ear and pull your head out of your ass. It should be warm by now.
I love the fine weather we're having now, so that you have your car windows down. That way, when I shout, "MORON!" at you, you can hear me clearly with no interference from the rolled-up window. Aaaaah. Springtime.
So be warned, Fellow Motorists...one morning I will catch you unawares, as I go out with my video camera on...and get your plate number. You do know that our Men In Blue will send you a little nasty-gram, to the tune of $150?
Did you further know that last year, in a 3-week period, no less than SIX children were hit, and three of them died?
Be vigilant, be observant. When you see a school bus with the STOP SIGN out...then use whatever little bit of gray matter you've got left and STOP. Or did you think that just meant everybody but you?
Now I must close, as I'm off to the police station to see if they will lend me some of that road carpet stuff with the nails in it.
See you tomorrow morning.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Ghost in the machine
I have long suspected that my house is haunted. I've lived here, oh, six-seven years, and there've been a couple of odd things. No rattling chains in the attic, no ectoplasm dripping from the doorways, nobody getting sucked into static-y television screens. No bright lights bringing forth deep scary voices or monsters from the closets.
So I'm assuming my ghost is benevolent. Thank goodness. There's only room for one evil entity per household, and I'm already it.
I did figure my ghost was male...
One morning a few years ago, I woke up & headed for the bathroom (as per normal), and...the toilet seat was up.
As I am a woman, and I'd had no overnight guests of any gender, I found this strange. ("But don't you have a son?" you may very well ask. I do...but as he is unable to walk I sincerely doubt that it was him)
A mystery.
And speaking of my son...he is known to lie a-bed at night, in the dark...laughing. At what? I have no idea. I figured the ghost was doin' a little stand-up routine there that only my little guy could see.
There have been a few other out-of-the-ordinary things that have occurred...mostly of the variety of things not being where I (thought) I'd left them...nothing spectacular.
Then last summer, my daughter wanted to take a picture of me. (Please don't look at ME in the photo, I certainly wasn't expecting to share this photo)
So I'm sitting in my room, on my bed, & let her take the picture. I hope the quality on the computer measures up to the real picture, as the real one is just downright spooky. When I first saw it, the hair on my nape and arms stood straight up, my heart went THUD THUD, and my stomach sort of...rolled.
Wanna see?
Look just above my head...
So....who wants to come visit my house?
So I'm assuming my ghost is benevolent. Thank goodness. There's only room for one evil entity per household, and I'm already it.
I did figure my ghost was male...
One morning a few years ago, I woke up & headed for the bathroom (as per normal), and...the toilet seat was up.
As I am a woman, and I'd had no overnight guests of any gender, I found this strange. ("But don't you have a son?" you may very well ask. I do...but as he is unable to walk I sincerely doubt that it was him)
A mystery.
And speaking of my son...he is known to lie a-bed at night, in the dark...laughing. At what? I have no idea. I figured the ghost was doin' a little stand-up routine there that only my little guy could see.
There have been a few other out-of-the-ordinary things that have occurred...mostly of the variety of things not being where I (thought) I'd left them...nothing spectacular.
Then last summer, my daughter wanted to take a picture of me. (Please don't look at ME in the photo, I certainly wasn't expecting to share this photo)
So I'm sitting in my room, on my bed, & let her take the picture. I hope the quality on the computer measures up to the real picture, as the real one is just downright spooky. When I first saw it, the hair on my nape and arms stood straight up, my heart went THUD THUD, and my stomach sort of...rolled.
Wanna see?
Look just above my head...
So....who wants to come visit my house?
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