but first...
Search term of the day:
"creepy people of Allen, TX"
This made me laugh and laugh and laugh.
A couple of you know why. :D
Evidently I had inadvertently left my "It's okay to talk to me" face on yesterday.
I thought I'd destroyed that thing years ago.
But nooooooooo, everywhere I went~~grocery store, bank, freakin' 7-11, people found it necessary to chatter at me.
Chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter chatter.
Like little wind-up teeth.
Why must you torture me so?
Don't you see that I'm anti-social at best?
Don't you realize that I only like to talk to blog friends?
I was so discombobulated that I had to go drown my discomfiture in Klondike bars.
Quote of the Day:
"If people know you're bluffin'....you ain't bluffin'." ~some guy on Celebrity Poker Showdown
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Sunday, August 27, 2006
A Fairy Tale
See, my mom didn't really like frogs (except the legs)(with extra garlic and butter), so the way she told the story was that the beautiful princess (me, for the purposes of this tale)(work with me, people--I know it's a stretch but use your imaginations) had to kiss the magic turtle and he would turn into a Handsome Prince.
My mom is also a big liar.
My mom is also a big liar.
Friday, August 25, 2006
A dust-out.
People who speed through school zones when the lights are flashing should be strung up, tortured, scalped, and beaten. Then shot in the kneecaps.
People who run bus stops should ALSO be subject to the above, with the added bonus of Chinese water torture. And then shot in the elbows and kneecaps.
People who do run the red light in front of my house should get all of the above, plus get gut-shot and I believe there is also a special place in hell reserved for them.
Remember a couple years ago when my daughter came within inches of getting struck by a woman who had her head up her ass and her cellphone in her ear as she RAN THE FUCKING RED LIGHT?
Some old geezer nearly did it today.
I walked out in the road.
He screeched to a bone-jarring halt to avoid hitting me.
There was some shouting and finger pointing.
I hope he was wearing his 'Oops, I Crapped My Pants' undergarments, because Mama wasn't happy.
Do I feel bad about terrorizing an old guy?
HELLS NO.
I was at 7-11 getting gas and coffee (not necessarily in that order--hyuk hyuk) when in walked the most gorgeously stunning boy I have ever seen.
A perfect male specimen. Sexy. Hot. OH THAT SMILE.
(OH THAT ASS. I wept.)
My heart skipped two beats.
I lost my breath.
I think I squeaked a little when I gasped at the sight of him.
He was surrounded by a glowing aura.
Angels sang.
(okay, maybe I made that last part up. But had you seen him, you would understand that it's a perfectly reasonable statement)
There I stood, slack-jawed, big-eyed and drooling unattractively...
....in my tattiest skirt, holey tee-shirt, and grossest flip-flops without a single speck of makeup and my hair in a messy ponytail.
Any gasps from anyone upon seeing me would have been purely from horror, I assure you.
So he paid for his cigarettes (okay he's not QUITE perfect but my smoky-treat craving intensified one hundredfold when I saw those lean brown fingers and nice clean fingernails and ropy-muscled arms start to peel the strip of cellophane off the top of the box and it was even the right brand of smokes - Marlboro Lights 100s - and OH LORDY I WANT A CIGARETTE and I WANT IT TO BE LIT BY THE BEAUTIFUL BOY and then I want us to SMOKE AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER TOGETHER FOREVER AMEN)
and then he walked out of my life forever.
But I can breathe again, so that's the silver lining.
I guess.
People piss me off.
Especially those who spend a lot of time telling you how unselfish they are, and how they are always doing for others and not themselves...
...I'm here to tell you that's a crock of shit.
It's the ones who do without telling that are the unselfish ones.
Is all I'm saying.
Hey, I admit I'm selfish. I told Raehan the other day when she made her FINAL post that my very first thought was
"Whatever will I do without her???!!"
ME, ME, ME.
I've even given up doing nice things for people. Not that I did them that often anyway.
*grouchgrouchgrouch*
Have a day.
That is all.
People who run bus stops should ALSO be subject to the above, with the added bonus of Chinese water torture. And then shot in the elbows and kneecaps.
People who do run the red light in front of my house should get all of the above, plus get gut-shot and I believe there is also a special place in hell reserved for them.
Remember a couple years ago when my daughter came within inches of getting struck by a woman who had her head up her ass and her cellphone in her ear as she RAN THE FUCKING RED LIGHT?
Some old geezer nearly did it today.
I walked out in the road.
He screeched to a bone-jarring halt to avoid hitting me.
There was some shouting and finger pointing.
I hope he was wearing his 'Oops, I Crapped My Pants' undergarments, because Mama wasn't happy.
Do I feel bad about terrorizing an old guy?
HELLS NO.
I was at 7-11 getting gas and coffee (not necessarily in that order--hyuk hyuk) when in walked the most gorgeously stunning boy I have ever seen.
A perfect male specimen. Sexy. Hot. OH THAT SMILE.
(OH THAT ASS. I wept.)
My heart skipped two beats.
I lost my breath.
I think I squeaked a little when I gasped at the sight of him.
He was surrounded by a glowing aura.
Angels sang.
(okay, maybe I made that last part up. But had you seen him, you would understand that it's a perfectly reasonable statement)
There I stood, slack-jawed, big-eyed and drooling unattractively...
....in my tattiest skirt, holey tee-shirt, and grossest flip-flops without a single speck of makeup and my hair in a messy ponytail.
Any gasps from anyone upon seeing me would have been purely from horror, I assure you.
So he paid for his cigarettes (okay he's not QUITE perfect but my smoky-treat craving intensified one hundredfold when I saw those lean brown fingers and nice clean fingernails and ropy-muscled arms start to peel the strip of cellophane off the top of the box and it was even the right brand of smokes - Marlboro Lights 100s - and OH LORDY I WANT A CIGARETTE and I WANT IT TO BE LIT BY THE BEAUTIFUL BOY and then I want us to SMOKE AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER TOGETHER FOREVER AMEN)
and then he walked out of my life forever.
But I can breathe again, so that's the silver lining.
I guess.
People piss me off.
Especially those who spend a lot of time telling you how unselfish they are, and how they are always doing for others and not themselves...
...I'm here to tell you that's a crock of shit.
It's the ones who do without telling that are the unselfish ones.
Is all I'm saying.
Hey, I admit I'm selfish. I told Raehan the other day when she made her FINAL post that my very first thought was
"Whatever will I do without her???!!"
ME, ME, ME.
I've even given up doing nice things for people. Not that I did them that often anyway.
*grouchgrouchgrouch*
Have a day.
That is all.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
In which there are a lot of questions...
...that I need for you to answer, please.
You might as well answer now, otherwise I'll just leave this post up until you do.
"If you build it, they will come..."
1. If I did a weekly or twice-monthly internet radio broadcast, would you listen? (or at least download the podcast later?)(see how I cleverly snuck an extra question in there?)
2. Would you pay me in presents orsexual favors to pimp your blog on said broadcast? (You wanna be my ho'?)(you could even write your own "ad" copy!)
3. Would you send me e-mail that I could read on the broadcast?
4. Would you email me song requests?
5. Would you get up and dance around to the music I choose to play?
6. Would you change any of your answers (esp. #1) if I promise that there will be NO NO NO singing by me so that the show would remain listener friendly?
7. Does this blog make me look fat?
8. Did you know the correct answer to #7 is always an emphatic "NO!"?
9. Did you know that if you answered #7 with anything along the lines of "No, it's your ASS that makes you look fat", I would stab you with the nearest pointy thing?
10. If we build it, will you come? Or rather...if we broadcast it, will you listen?
For those of you with ADD or just a really short attention span, please answer questions 1 through 4 only.
You may begin....NOW.
You might as well answer now, otherwise I'll just leave this post up until you do.
"If you build it, they will come..."
1. If I did a weekly or twice-monthly internet radio broadcast, would you listen? (or at least download the podcast later?)(see how I cleverly snuck an extra question in there?)
2. Would you pay me in presents or
3. Would you send me e-mail that I could read on the broadcast?
4. Would you email me song requests?
5. Would you get up and dance around to the music I choose to play?
6. Would you change any of your answers (esp. #1) if I promise that there will be NO NO NO singing by me so that the show would remain listener friendly?
7. Does this blog make me look fat?
8. Did you know the correct answer to #7 is always an emphatic "NO!"?
9. Did you know that if you answered #7 with anything along the lines of "No, it's your ASS that makes you look fat", I would stab you with the nearest pointy thing?
10. If we build it, will you come? Or rather...if we broadcast it, will you listen?
For those of you with ADD or just a really short attention span, please answer questions 1 through 4 only.
You may begin....NOW.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Addendum
You know you're a redneck(mama) when you see the vanity plate
'DEWN IT'
and when you say it in your head, it sounds perfectly normal.
Some days I read a post, and it takes EVERY.SINGLE.OUNCE. of control I own not to say "O DEAR HEAVENS OPEN YOUR EYES AND LOOK IN THE MIRROR! All the critical things you're projecting onto others IS SO YOU.
Oh and P.S. GET FREAKIN' REAL."
Then I leave the site before Temptation overwhelms me with its seductive touch.
Then I wonder how many people think the same thing when they come here.
Tomorrow, you'll need to bring your paper and pencil to class.
There's going to be a quiz.
'DEWN IT'
and when you say it in your head, it sounds perfectly normal.
Some days I read a post, and it takes EVERY.SINGLE.OUNCE. of control I own not to say "O DEAR HEAVENS OPEN YOUR EYES AND LOOK IN THE MIRROR! All the critical things you're projecting onto others IS SO YOU.
Oh and P.S. GET FREAKIN' REAL."
Then I leave the site before Temptation overwhelms me with its seductive touch.
Then I wonder how many people think the same thing when they come here.
Tomorrow, you'll need to bring your paper and pencil to class.
There's going to be a quiz.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Age is only a number.
Older women
are beautiful lovers
Older women
they understand
I've been around some
and I have discovered
that older women know just how to please a man ~~Ronnie McDowell
Someone emailed this to me, but I can't remember who.
I'm getting old.
:)
OLDER WOMEN...
An older woman can wear any hat she chooses and nobody will laugh. A younger woman wearing the same hat will always look like a lampshade in a brothel.
An older woman will never wake you up in the middle of the night to ask you, 'What are you thinking?' An older woman doesn't care what you think. (No, seriously, we don't)
An older woman always carries a purse full of emergency supplies. Young women go hungry and bleed to death every time there's a natural disaster. (PLUS we've got Twinkies)
An older woman always carries a condom in her purse. A younger woman is still hoping the guy might have one on him. (silly, silly little girls...)
An older woman is a cheaper date. A younger woman will cost you 12 beers, but an older woman will sleep with you after a cup of a herbal tea.
(BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, yeah, totally true though)
An older woman can wear bright red lipstick during the day without looking like she just had an adventure inside a jam jar. This is not true of younger women or drag queens.
Older women can run faster because they're always wearing sensible shoes.
Older women are more honest. An older woman will tell you that you are a dickhead if you're acting like one. A young woman will say nothing, just in case it means you might break up with her.
Older women have jobs with dental plans. Younger women can't help you when your teeth get knocked out playing hockey.
An older woman will never accuse you of 'using her.' She's using you. (got THAT right, baby!)
Older women take charge of the situation. An older woman will call you up and ask you for a date. A younger woman will wait forever, by the phone, for you to call...
Older woman know how to cook. Young women know how to dial for pizza.
An older woman will introduce you to all of her girlfriends. A younger woman will avoid her girlfriends when she's with you, in case you get any ideas...
Older women are psychic. You never have to confess to having an affair, because somehow they always know. (ancient Chinese secret)
Older woman often own an interesting collection of lingerie that they have acquired from admirers over the years. Young women often don't wear underpants at all, thus practically eliminating all possibility of a strip-tease.
An older woman will agree to go to McDonald's with you for a meal. Younger women are too nervous to eat anything in front of somebody that they might possibly burp later. (hell with that, I'm ordering extra garlic or onions)
Older women are dignified. They are beyond having a screaming match with you in the middle of the night in a public park. (we are NOT beyond having sex with you in the middle of the night in a public park, however)
are beautiful lovers
Older women
they understand
I've been around some
and I have discovered
that older women know just how to please a man ~~Ronnie McDowell
Someone emailed this to me, but I can't remember who.
I'm getting old.
:)
OLDER WOMEN...
An older woman can wear any hat she chooses and nobody will laugh. A younger woman wearing the same hat will always look like a lampshade in a brothel.
An older woman will never wake you up in the middle of the night to ask you, 'What are you thinking?' An older woman doesn't care what you think. (No, seriously, we don't)
An older woman always carries a purse full of emergency supplies. Young women go hungry and bleed to death every time there's a natural disaster. (PLUS we've got Twinkies)
An older woman always carries a condom in her purse. A younger woman is still hoping the guy might have one on him. (silly, silly little girls...)
An older woman is a cheaper date. A younger woman will cost you 12 beers, but an older woman will sleep with you after a cup of a herbal tea.
(BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, yeah, totally true though)
An older woman can wear bright red lipstick during the day without looking like she just had an adventure inside a jam jar. This is not true of younger women or drag queens.
Older women can run faster because they're always wearing sensible shoes.
Older women are more honest. An older woman will tell you that you are a dickhead if you're acting like one. A young woman will say nothing, just in case it means you might break up with her.
Older women have jobs with dental plans. Younger women can't help you when your teeth get knocked out playing hockey.
An older woman will never accuse you of 'using her.' She's using you. (got THAT right, baby!)
Older women take charge of the situation. An older woman will call you up and ask you for a date. A younger woman will wait forever, by the phone, for you to call...
Older woman know how to cook. Young women know how to dial for pizza.
An older woman will introduce you to all of her girlfriends. A younger woman will avoid her girlfriends when she's with you, in case you get any ideas...
Older women are psychic. You never have to confess to having an affair, because somehow they always know. (ancient Chinese secret)
Older woman often own an interesting collection of lingerie that they have acquired from admirers over the years. Young women often don't wear underpants at all, thus practically eliminating all possibility of a strip-tease.
An older woman will agree to go to McDonald's with you for a meal. Younger women are too nervous to eat anything in front of somebody that they might possibly burp later. (hell with that, I'm ordering extra garlic or onions)
Older women are dignified. They are beyond having a screaming match with you in the middle of the night in a public park. (we are NOT beyond having sex with you in the middle of the night in a public park, however)
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Pink Gelatinous Goo for EVERYONE!
You know, if I had your phone number I would totally call you after 9pm and on weekends.
Then we could dish on all our other blogfriends.
What I mean to say is that we'd talk about how dishy all our other blogfriends are.
Mmmmm hmmmmm.
I had a bizarre dream last night that involved Robby Benson.
MAN O MAN did he look yum...those eyes, those eyes.
And he said he'd never even watched Beauty And The Beast, which struck me as odd.
(TWO DEGREES of separation...Robby is brother to the LAUNDRY line clothing designer Shelli Segal. I list and photograph Shelli Segal's clothing.
It's almost like I'm a member of the family.)
I have four empty FUZE bottles sitting on the floor next to my desk.
Please don't ask me why, for I have no answer.
Except that I.LOVE.FUZE.
Sunday Spam
...because these message subjects are SURE to make me want to open that email:
"Bad erection? You are welcome."
Umm...thank you?
"It seems you wish to have sex longer!"
No, I wished for a million dollars. But you were close.
"Take pleasure from Act while others wait!"
I can't, it's too distracting when you know there's a line outside the door.
That's why the red light was on.
"Even when the cute babe drives you, it occurs before or shortly after penetration"
**PAGING CUTE BABES! I need you to drive me.
To the grocery store. Thanks a mil.
Then we could dish on all our other blogfriends.
What I mean to say is that we'd talk about how dishy all our other blogfriends are.
Mmmmm hmmmmm.
I had a bizarre dream last night that involved Robby Benson.
MAN O MAN did he look yum...those eyes, those eyes.
And he said he'd never even watched Beauty And The Beast, which struck me as odd.
(TWO DEGREES of separation...Robby is brother to the LAUNDRY line clothing designer Shelli Segal. I list and photograph Shelli Segal's clothing.
It's almost like I'm a member of the family.)
I have four empty FUZE bottles sitting on the floor next to my desk.
Please don't ask me why, for I have no answer.
Except that I.LOVE.FUZE.
Sunday Spam
...because these message subjects are SURE to make me want to open that email:
"Bad erection? You are welcome."
Umm...thank you?
"It seems you wish to have sex longer!"
No, I wished for a million dollars. But you were close.
"Take pleasure from Act while others wait!"
I can't, it's too distracting when you know there's a line outside the door.
That's why the red light was on.
"Even when the cute babe drives you, it occurs before or shortly after penetration"
**PAGING CUTE BABES! I need you to drive me.
To the grocery store. Thanks a mil.
Friday, August 18, 2006
The "IN" Place to be...
is right about here --> 
The Oz-accented $800 Blogathon song, plus heavy duty pimping of my pretend boyfriend BOB GENTRY (with a bonus track from Bob, JUST FOR YOU!).
Tune in, because we all need a little Kangaroo in our lives.
(this one's for you, Peter)
The Oz-accented $800 Blogathon song, plus heavy duty pimping of my pretend boyfriend BOB GENTRY (with a bonus track from Bob, JUST FOR YOU!).
Tune in, because we all need a little Kangaroo in our lives.
(this one's for you, Peter)
Thursday, August 17, 2006
An Unexpected Guest!
"A closed mind is a good thing to lose." ~Anonymous
"A friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." ~Anonymous
I have a friend with a little problem.
No, not a "friend", but a friend.
Due to certain circumstances, she chose not to post this in her own space in order to spare the feelings of a real-world friend. When she came to me to ask for space in which to post anonymously, I was only too happy to oblige.
Please welcome her and offer your wise comments and feedback, as only you know how to do. Give her a shoulder, yes?
I’m not really sure where that came from.
I mean, I get where it came from. You spoke your mind, what was in your heart. Unfortunately, your delivery was perhaps at its worst ever, since you said all of those mean and hurtful things to the wrong person.
Now, I wasn’t there. You were outside on the porch, the two of you, my best friend since we were three years old, three, and my husband; I sat inside on the couch, discussing my triathlon with your boyfriend. Your conversation seemed benign; I occasionally caught a glimpse of you through the open window although I could not hear your words. All seemed well.
Apparently, what I thought was an innocent conversation was in fact an attack on him, one you unleashed without warning. I have no doubt that the alcohol made it easier to get whatever you said off your chest. I also know that it was the wrong way to do that. The whole thing was wrong.
Why would you tell my husband, the man I love, the man I have decided to spend the rest of my life with, that you hate him, that you have never liked him, that he is this, that and the other in your eyes, that he is wrong for me, that you think the things he does are inexcusable and unforgivable. Can I just ask you, what do you really know?
Yeah, sometimes, when I’m upset, I tell you things that he’s done that piss me off. It’s never anything more than acting like a total jerk, something that we all do. He does not hit me; he would never strike me in any way. Why do I feel that I need to say that?
What I think you have done is take the things I tell you and separate them in your mind; they are isolated incidents, things that have since been resolved between him and me. Yet for you, they remain static; you’ve combined them into a collective feeling, thinking that this person is a bad person. He’s not. How many people give up their life to move across the country with someone they love, headed into the lion’s den of family problems and drama and horror and uncertainty? And then, to top it off, they marry the one they love, knowing full well that annoying and crazy in-laws will be theirs forever. At the beginning, everyone thought it was a wonderful and noble act. Apparently that feeling has faded.
Last year, at our wedding, you gave a speech where you said that you loved us, both of us, that you loved my husband because of how happy he makes me, because you had seen new sides of him. What happened to those words? Was that speech a lie?
You once said to me, “No one understands why you’re with him.” I don’t feel that I need to list those reasons now, not ever. Suffice to say that I love him, I love him, I love him, and he loves me, he loves me, he loves me; that is what should matter to you.
What I don’t think you should focus on is the fact that you two have nothing in common. You are the two most important people in my life; he, even now, after you berated him for 45 minutes, would still suck it up and hang out with you, if that’s what I wanted. He has no desire to ever see you or speak to you again, but he would, for me. That’s love.
You, my dear, have not shown love. You have shown anger, hatred, and a narrow-minded attitude; this has made me feel anger toward you I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.
You always get what you want. You are bossy, pushy and loud; people give into you all the time. I have always yielded to you in our friendship in the past. But on this matter, I can’t and I won’t. I don’t want to choose between you, I won’t choose, but he is my husband and in this instance, I must side with him because I believe that you were wrong.
What you should have done was come to me. You should have told me all the things you said to him. We are friends. You should be able to feel like you can tell me anything, anything at all, even if it is that you hate my husband. Opening up to me is the only option here. Why can’t you do that? Why have you harbored all of these feelings inside for so long? I respect you and your opinions, although I may not agree with you all the time.
I’d like to take this opportunity to point out that I rarely criticize you, your actions or your decisions. Instead, I try to support you in any way I can by being there for you. Perhaps I should have spoken up when you pissed away your inheritance in Asia instead of paying off your student loans. I never really liked your ex-boyfriend, the one you dated for six years, but I never said a word. I always got along with him for your sake. We drank together, we partied together, and I slept on your couch and threw up in your bathroom. On New Year’s Day, I crawled off the futon and into your bed, so hung-over I could barely see, while he watched football and yelled at the top of his lungs. I wanted you to be happy and with him, at least for a while, you were. I would never, ever tell you how to live your life or that your decisions are wrong. Perhaps that is the difference between us.
Maybe if I’d spoken up a little more, I’d have been a better friend. I like to think that I have been a good friend up to this point. You have been an excellent friend to me until now. I am hurt because my husband is hurt. I am hurt that you did not talk to me about the things that were eating away at you inside. I’m disappointed that you did not feel that you could be honest me. I wonder how many comments you’ve made to other people about your dislike and, in your eyes, my stupidity. I’ve been on the receiving end of those comments in the past.
Fuck, I’m so hurt. It has been almost a week and we have not spoken. I will not call you. I will not write you, email you or text you. It is up to you to come to me. I hope you do. My initial reaction is to come to you, to tell you it’s ok, sweep it under the table, forget about it. But I can’t this time.
I can only wish that you see what you have done that I believe is so heinous. It’s not wrong to have those thoughts and feelings. It’s only wrong to hide them from me and to berate my husband. You had no place doing that, although you probably think it’s for my own good. You have overstepped a boundary. I hope you can see that.
"A friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." ~Anonymous
I have a friend with a little problem.
No, not a "friend", but a friend.
Due to certain circumstances, she chose not to post this in her own space in order to spare the feelings of a real-world friend. When she came to me to ask for space in which to post anonymously, I was only too happy to oblige.
Please welcome her and offer your wise comments and feedback, as only you know how to do. Give her a shoulder, yes?
I’m not really sure where that came from.
I mean, I get where it came from. You spoke your mind, what was in your heart. Unfortunately, your delivery was perhaps at its worst ever, since you said all of those mean and hurtful things to the wrong person.
Now, I wasn’t there. You were outside on the porch, the two of you, my best friend since we were three years old, three, and my husband; I sat inside on the couch, discussing my triathlon with your boyfriend. Your conversation seemed benign; I occasionally caught a glimpse of you through the open window although I could not hear your words. All seemed well.
Apparently, what I thought was an innocent conversation was in fact an attack on him, one you unleashed without warning. I have no doubt that the alcohol made it easier to get whatever you said off your chest. I also know that it was the wrong way to do that. The whole thing was wrong.
Why would you tell my husband, the man I love, the man I have decided to spend the rest of my life with, that you hate him, that you have never liked him, that he is this, that and the other in your eyes, that he is wrong for me, that you think the things he does are inexcusable and unforgivable. Can I just ask you, what do you really know?
Yeah, sometimes, when I’m upset, I tell you things that he’s done that piss me off. It’s never anything more than acting like a total jerk, something that we all do. He does not hit me; he would never strike me in any way. Why do I feel that I need to say that?
What I think you have done is take the things I tell you and separate them in your mind; they are isolated incidents, things that have since been resolved between him and me. Yet for you, they remain static; you’ve combined them into a collective feeling, thinking that this person is a bad person. He’s not. How many people give up their life to move across the country with someone they love, headed into the lion’s den of family problems and drama and horror and uncertainty? And then, to top it off, they marry the one they love, knowing full well that annoying and crazy in-laws will be theirs forever. At the beginning, everyone thought it was a wonderful and noble act. Apparently that feeling has faded.
Last year, at our wedding, you gave a speech where you said that you loved us, both of us, that you loved my husband because of how happy he makes me, because you had seen new sides of him. What happened to those words? Was that speech a lie?
You once said to me, “No one understands why you’re with him.” I don’t feel that I need to list those reasons now, not ever. Suffice to say that I love him, I love him, I love him, and he loves me, he loves me, he loves me; that is what should matter to you.
What I don’t think you should focus on is the fact that you two have nothing in common. You are the two most important people in my life; he, even now, after you berated him for 45 minutes, would still suck it up and hang out with you, if that’s what I wanted. He has no desire to ever see you or speak to you again, but he would, for me. That’s love.
You, my dear, have not shown love. You have shown anger, hatred, and a narrow-minded attitude; this has made me feel anger toward you I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.
You always get what you want. You are bossy, pushy and loud; people give into you all the time. I have always yielded to you in our friendship in the past. But on this matter, I can’t and I won’t. I don’t want to choose between you, I won’t choose, but he is my husband and in this instance, I must side with him because I believe that you were wrong.
What you should have done was come to me. You should have told me all the things you said to him. We are friends. You should be able to feel like you can tell me anything, anything at all, even if it is that you hate my husband. Opening up to me is the only option here. Why can’t you do that? Why have you harbored all of these feelings inside for so long? I respect you and your opinions, although I may not agree with you all the time.
I’d like to take this opportunity to point out that I rarely criticize you, your actions or your decisions. Instead, I try to support you in any way I can by being there for you. Perhaps I should have spoken up when you pissed away your inheritance in Asia instead of paying off your student loans. I never really liked your ex-boyfriend, the one you dated for six years, but I never said a word. I always got along with him for your sake. We drank together, we partied together, and I slept on your couch and threw up in your bathroom. On New Year’s Day, I crawled off the futon and into your bed, so hung-over I could barely see, while he watched football and yelled at the top of his lungs. I wanted you to be happy and with him, at least for a while, you were. I would never, ever tell you how to live your life or that your decisions are wrong. Perhaps that is the difference between us.
Maybe if I’d spoken up a little more, I’d have been a better friend. I like to think that I have been a good friend up to this point. You have been an excellent friend to me until now. I am hurt because my husband is hurt. I am hurt that you did not talk to me about the things that were eating away at you inside. I’m disappointed that you did not feel that you could be honest me. I wonder how many comments you’ve made to other people about your dislike and, in your eyes, my stupidity. I’ve been on the receiving end of those comments in the past.
Fuck, I’m so hurt. It has been almost a week and we have not spoken. I will not call you. I will not write you, email you or text you. It is up to you to come to me. I hope you do. My initial reaction is to come to you, to tell you it’s ok, sweep it under the table, forget about it. But I can’t this time.
I can only wish that you see what you have done that I believe is so heinous. It’s not wrong to have those thoughts and feelings. It’s only wrong to hide them from me and to berate my husband. You had no place doing that, although you probably think it’s for my own good. You have overstepped a boundary. I hope you can see that.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
R.I.P., Bruno
Bruno Kirby.
Such a big bruising name for a little guy...and I'm saddened to hear of his passing.
I remember him best in Good Morning, Vietnam, City Slickers, and When Harry Met Sally.
OH, and This Is Spinal Tap.
Rest in peace, Bruno.
**IN OTHER NEWS...
I was just watching Animal Planet...
imagine my SHOCK and SURPRISE to find out that lemmings do not really commit mass suicide by hurling themselves off cliffs.
Talk about debunking a myth.
Some stupid filmmakers staged the whole thing whilst filming a "documentary".
Am I the last one to find this out?
Did everyone know this but me?
Figures.
Such a big bruising name for a little guy...and I'm saddened to hear of his passing.
I remember him best in Good Morning, Vietnam, City Slickers, and When Harry Met Sally.
OH, and This Is Spinal Tap.
Rest in peace, Bruno.
**IN OTHER NEWS...
I was just watching Animal Planet...
imagine my SHOCK and SURPRISE to find out that lemmings do not really commit mass suicide by hurling themselves off cliffs.
Talk about debunking a myth.
Some stupid filmmakers staged the whole thing whilst filming a "documentary".
Am I the last one to find this out?
Did everyone know this but me?
Figures.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
apropos of nothing.
I touched the boob on the mannequin today.
Two times.
The hottie that works two doors down (Roger The Investigator) just walked by my window.
Two times.
When I was young, I could not sleep if
A. The closet door was open
or
2. The bedroom door was shut
My daughter MUST sleep with her bedroom door shut and the closet door open.
Weirdo.
I think I just ate a gnat.
Accidentally, of course.
I think Lindsay Lohan has never actually seen a pin-up girl.
If that's what she aspires to be, she's going to have to eat a couple sammiches or something. Maybe a sundae. Some chips, even.
Is all I'm saying.
My "." has gone missing, and I'm afraid that my life will be just one long run-on sentence, complete with PMS and an excess of commas, until it decides to return
And I guess I didn't eat the gnat after all because it just did a kamikaze dive toward my eye, faked me out, and headed into my nostril
That was totally fun, especially when I blew snot all over the monitor in an effort to expel the gnat
I'd say 'that is all', but without certain punctuation how can we possibly be sure that that truly is all?
Thank heavens for question marks!
And exclamation points!
You see what I mean?
Yes?
GOOD!!
Have a day!
Two times.
The hottie that works two doors down (Roger The Investigator) just walked by my window.
Two times.
When I was young, I could not sleep if
A. The closet door was open
or
2. The bedroom door was shut
My daughter MUST sleep with her bedroom door shut and the closet door open.
Weirdo.
I think I just ate a gnat.
Accidentally, of course.
I think Lindsay Lohan has never actually seen a pin-up girl.
If that's what she aspires to be, she's going to have to eat a couple sammiches or something. Maybe a sundae. Some chips, even.
Is all I'm saying.
My "." has gone missing, and I'm afraid that my life will be just one long run-on sentence, complete with PMS and an excess of commas, until it decides to return
And I guess I didn't eat the gnat after all because it just did a kamikaze dive toward my eye, faked me out, and headed into my nostril
That was totally fun, especially when I blew snot all over the monitor in an effort to expel the gnat
I'd say 'that is all', but without certain punctuation how can we possibly be sure that that truly is all?
Thank heavens for question marks!
And exclamation points!
You see what I mean?
Yes?
GOOD!!
Have a day!
Monday, August 14, 2006
For YOUR Eyes Only
Dear Monty's Friends,
Please forgive Monty's absence this weekend (if in fact you even noticed her absence this weekend), as she has been caught up with family nonsense and school preparation and things of that nature.
Also please forgive the unanswered emails and unreturned phone calls--she assures me that she will get right on those.
(sometimes she tells lies, though, so take that for what it's worth)
She says she is very sorry, unless you didn't notice that she hasn't been visiting you recently, in which case never mind.
Oh, and I'm supposed to tell you to have a day, whatever that means.
Love,
My Mother
Please forgive Monty's absence this weekend (if in fact you even noticed her absence this weekend), as she has been caught up with family nonsense and school preparation and things of that nature.
Also please forgive the unanswered emails and unreturned phone calls--she assures me that she will get right on those.
(sometimes she tells lies, though, so take that for what it's worth)
She says she is very sorry, unless you didn't notice that she hasn't been visiting you recently, in which case never mind.
Oh, and I'm supposed to tell you to have a day, whatever that means.
Love,
My Mother
Friday, August 11, 2006
School Daze
I know that we all make mistakes (I for one never proofread before posting), but somehow it's funnier when the school supply list asks for a "ruer" (they'll rue the day!) and they staple an "attackment" to the enrollment forms.
And then as I was leaving the school I saw this written in shoe polish on some teen's back car window:
Nikis Babie
And of course the is were dotted with little hearts.
That dude should encourage Niki to pick up a book now and then.
Is all I'm saying.
There's something about this time of year that makes me work up a big ol' head of steam.
Must be the heat.
So I go enroll the kids yesterday...and now, even though my kids have been attending the same schools for the last 6 years, all of a sudden THEIR names have to be on my lease for proof of residence.
WHAT THE HELL?
Okay, when I moved into my house 7 years ago, I was (am!) pretty poor and my landlady left all the bills in her name so that I wouldn't have to pay any deposits and/or transfer fees.
So my proof of residence for enrollment is a lease.
NOW my children, MINORS, have to be written in on my lease?
For the love of God could someone please explain to me WHY?
Are children's names routinely included on the other proofs of residence: the electric, water, or gas bills?
NO. NO. AND NO.
They aren't.
So WHAT THE HELL?
WHY are there so many hoops to jump through?
I don't get it.
You HAVE to take my kids into your school.
They HAVE to attend school.
So why do 'they' try to make it more difficult to enroll them in the school that they MUST attend anyway?
What's the fucking point?
For crap's sake.
(**Note: this is in no way a reflection on any of the wonderful educators whom I love and admire, it is directed to the asshats who make the rules and don't even WORK IN THE SCHOOL SYSTEM)
*grumble grumble*
Have a day.
Don't you know that you are a shooting star?
"Star of my life, to the stars your face is turned; Would I were the heavens, looking back at you with ten thousand eyes." -- Plato
If you're a stargazer, you'll want to be outside tonight for the Perseid Meteor shower-after midnight should be prime viewing. (Aug. 11-13)
I have so many trees around my house that it's difficult to see, but there's a big field behind me and I may venture out there to give it a look. I love meteor showers. I get to make a zillion wishes.
I'm a terrible friend and a slacker, because I meant to post that yesterday was my darling MEGAN'S BIRTHDAY! It's never too late to offer your birthday wishes, PLUS read her always stellar Fiction Friday entry. Go now! Hurry!
"Today gives us a chance to love, to work, to play, and to look up at the stars." -- Henry Van Dyke
I like to work. Yes, it's true, I do. I'm no workaholic by any means, but the thought of NOT working makes me uncomfortable. I think that even if I were independently wealthy I would work at least part time, or perhaps volunteer somewhere.
But still.
Sometimes it hits me where it hurts, and I feel some...regret? Sorrow?
I regret that I have been unavailable to spend lazy afternoons at the park with my kids.
I feel sorrow that I have been unavailable to run my daughter hither and thither, from friend to friend, event to event, from Girl Scouts to Dance to Sara's for a sleepover.
I have been unavailable for daytime school programs, for PTA, for special events.
Too often I've been...just unavailable.
Mama's sorry, kids. I'm doing the best I can.
You are the stars of my life.
"For my part I know nothing with any certainty but the sight of the stars makes me dream."-- Vincent Van Gogh
Yeah, me too, Vince.
speaking of STARS...
If you're a stargazer, you'll want to be outside tonight for the Perseid Meteor shower-after midnight should be prime viewing. (Aug. 11-13)
I have so many trees around my house that it's difficult to see, but there's a big field behind me and I may venture out there to give it a look. I love meteor showers. I get to make a zillion wishes.
I'm a terrible friend and a slacker, because I meant to post that yesterday was my darling MEGAN'S BIRTHDAY! It's never too late to offer your birthday wishes, PLUS read her always stellar Fiction Friday entry. Go now! Hurry!
"Today gives us a chance to love, to work, to play, and to look up at the stars." -- Henry Van Dyke
I like to work. Yes, it's true, I do. I'm no workaholic by any means, but the thought of NOT working makes me uncomfortable. I think that even if I were independently wealthy I would work at least part time, or perhaps volunteer somewhere.
But still.
Sometimes it hits me where it hurts, and I feel some...regret? Sorrow?
I regret that I have been unavailable to spend lazy afternoons at the park with my kids.
I feel sorrow that I have been unavailable to run my daughter hither and thither, from friend to friend, event to event, from Girl Scouts to Dance to Sara's for a sleepover.
I have been unavailable for daytime school programs, for PTA, for special events.
Too often I've been...just unavailable.
Mama's sorry, kids. I'm doing the best I can.
You are the stars of my life.
"For my part I know nothing with any certainty but the sight of the stars makes me dream."-- Vincent Van Gogh
Yeah, me too, Vince.
speaking of STARS...
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Under the Arc
Today's Lesson...
Last evening as I drove home through a spate of brief (but cooling) rainshowers with the dark clouds ahead and the sun at my back...I learned that I am not yet too old to look for the end of the rainbow.
So this commercial comes on the radio...
It's not verbatim, but it's relatively close. Work with me, people.
SHE: "Honey, we should go to the beach!"
HE: "Okay! Let's walk."
SHE: "Um...we live in Kansas."
HE: "Have you seen the price of gas lately?????"
SHE: "Have you seen the price of Rental Cars?? At Priceline, we can rent a car for as little as $14 per day! *blah blah blah blah pimp the priceline blah blah blah."
HE: "So we can buy gas with the money we'll save on the rental!"
This doesn't make sense to me. Yes, I know it is a commercial.
But still.
So, you've got to buy the gas (which you'd have done anyway for your own vehicle, yes?) PLUS the cost of the rental car.
Now, how exactly is that saving money?
Because I'm guessing that if you can afford a rental car and a trip to the beach, your personal car is most likely pretty decent.
And even more importantly...
why the hell am I even thinking about this????
My kids start school on TUESDAY.
That can't possibly be right.
But it is.
Where did summer go?? Does anyone know?
Last evening as I drove home through a spate of brief (but cooling) rainshowers with the dark clouds ahead and the sun at my back...I learned that I am not yet too old to look for the end of the rainbow.
So this commercial comes on the radio...
It's not verbatim, but it's relatively close. Work with me, people.
SHE: "Honey, we should go to the beach!"
HE: "Okay! Let's walk."
SHE: "Um...we live in Kansas."
HE: "Have you seen the price of gas lately?????"
SHE: "Have you seen the price of Rental Cars?? At Priceline, we can rent a car for as little as $14 per day! *blah blah blah blah pimp the priceline blah blah blah."
HE: "So we can buy gas with the money we'll save on the rental!"
This doesn't make sense to me. Yes, I know it is a commercial.
But still.
So, you've got to buy the gas (which you'd have done anyway for your own vehicle, yes?) PLUS the cost of the rental car.
Now, how exactly is that saving money?
Because I'm guessing that if you can afford a rental car and a trip to the beach, your personal car is most likely pretty decent.
And even more importantly...
why the hell am I even thinking about this????
My kids start school on TUESDAY.
That can't possibly be right.
But it is.
Where did summer go?? Does anyone know?
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
eh
Go vote for
BOB GENTRY!!!
He rocks. See for yourself. You can thank me later.
If you haven't received your donation email from BLOGATHON.ORG, then the direct link to send in your pledge to my charity is RIGHT HERE!
(if it asks for an honoree and you'd like to use my kid's name, email me)
There are no words big enough to express my appreciation and gratitude for all the support, encouragement, and pledges. Thank you.
**************Command?
Engage coping mechanism
**************Thank you. Please Choose From The Following Menu:
1. Withdrawal
2. Anger
3. 1 + 2 Combo
Enter 1
**************Thank you. Any further transactions?
No.
That is all.
**************Thank you. Have a day.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Home...home again...
but first...
I have transferred my Blogathon Songs to PODOMATIC. I finally figured something out, all by my ownself.
Don't worry, I haven't forgotten what I owe you. It's a-comin'.
I am road-weary from the unrelenting, miserable heat (according to one sign it was 109º at the Oklahoma/Texas state line and did I mention that my car does not have a working air conditioner??), so I will say only two things about my
Saturday With Jules (other than it was mucho fun-o)...
1. We started with Mimosas....at brunch
and
B. FIRST BLOOD is a MUCH better movie if you turn the sound down, turn on the captions, and act it out yourself.
You can go see Jules for more details.
If you dare.
I have transferred my Blogathon Songs to PODOMATIC. I finally figured something out, all by my ownself.
Don't worry, I haven't forgotten what I owe you. It's a-comin'.
I am road-weary from the unrelenting, miserable heat (according to one sign it was 109º at the Oklahoma/Texas state line and did I mention that my car does not have a working air conditioner??), so I will say only two things about my
Saturday With Jules (other than it was mucho fun-o)...
1. We started with Mimosas....at brunch
and
B. FIRST BLOOD is a MUCH better movie if you turn the sound down, turn on the captions, and act it out yourself.
You can go see Jules for more details.
If you dare.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Don't you wish you were me?
I'm at JULES' right now...and YOU'RE NOT!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
We're having a good time watching Rambo 2 and talking about beeeejaaaays.
Watch this space for YouTube production of:
FAT CHICKS ORGY '06, brought to you by the good folks at NutraSystem
(I stole that from SUDIE, when we talked on the phone awhile ago)
Whenever I see someone on TV eat a sammich...it makes me want a sammich.
Is all I'm sayin'.
Now I've got to go talk about sex some more, and possibly get drunk.
Have a day.
that is all.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
We're having a good time watching Rambo 2 and talking about beeeejaaaays.
Watch this space for YouTube production of:
(I stole that from SUDIE, when we talked on the phone awhile ago)
Whenever I see someone on TV eat a sammich...it makes me want a sammich.
Is all I'm sayin'.
Now I've got to go talk about sex some more, and possibly get drunk.
Have a day.
that is all.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Big Mess O' Crap
Did I tell you my sister is preggo? The married one that I used to work with.
I'm going to be an aunt. I'm pretty excited about it...but my current PMS makes me feel like "I'm going to be JUST as nice to her kid as she's been to mine"...which is to say not at all.
Of course I won't really be like that. But still, I get pissed when she's rude to my daughter~sometimes they fight like they were the same age. For crap's sake.
I'm looking forward to the littlebrat's baby's arrival. Mostly for payback, because my sister doesn't really like kids. But it'll be nice having a baby around that I can give back when it cries.
I'm SICK SICK SICK SICK with anger and disgust.
People who scam the elderly should be put to death by slow, torturous means. In fact, they should be kept barely alive so that they can be tortured over years and years, sort of like a prelude to Hell.
Which is where I'm hopeful they will burn for all eternity.
My grandma. Mrs. Claus is what she looks like~all short and round and cheery.
Not too bright when it comes to today's world...what I mean is she's naive.
So when some asshole calls and says he's from her bank and that someone has been withdrawing money from her account and they'll replace it with a thousand dollars as soon as she gives them her bank account number, she gives them the information.
I am FURIOUS with my grandma.
She never watches the news, she doesn't think people are untrustworthy, she...she...I DON'T KNOW I'M SO FUCKING PISSED OFF.
I think HOW could she be so stupid? Why would someone from the bank need for her to tell them her account number? Shouldn't they have that information?
But it never occured to her to doubt the "Bank" representative.
And this is what makes me the angriest at Grandma: She thinks mom and I are WRONG about her being scammed.
So banks just give out free money now to "pay you back"??
We told her that she needed to CALL HER BANK and CLOSE HER ACCOUNT (not that there's anything left in there by now I'm sure, but her Social Security is auto-deposited)...she just went "Eh!" and waved us off with her chubby little hand.
I.AM.INSANELY.ANGRY.
Like killing angry, almost.
I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to throw up.
So we had to tell my uncle...and he's got a volatile temper and isn't nice on his best day.
He and I are a lot alike, except I don't yell at old people. It's rude.
Anyway. Grandma didn't want us to tell him because he bitches at her all the time anyway...so we had my dad tell my uncle, along with the added threat that if he (uncle T) yelled at grandma in his usual crazed manner, dad would whip his ass.
Man, my family is swell.
I want to shake my grandma until her (false) teeth rattle.
I want to hunt down the perpetrators and beat them bloody. And then do it again.
And again.
switching gears...
I'm off to Texas shortly to drop my kids with the Sperm Donor.
NO KIDS FOR A WHOLE DAY AND A HALF!
I get to see my fabulous wonderful pal JULES, and hopefully IVY as well.
I wanted to see JIM, but he's going to be a little too far away. :(
Maybe next time...*winky wink*
I know it's disappointing, but you're going to have to carry on without me this weekend.
Boohoo...actually I'm more wondering how I will make it without YOU.
I'll be thinking of you...some of you more intimately than others.
But I ain't a-sayin' which is which. :)
I'm going to be an aunt. I'm pretty excited about it...but my current PMS makes me feel like "I'm going to be JUST as nice to her kid as she's been to mine"...which is to say not at all.
Of course I won't really be like that. But still, I get pissed when she's rude to my daughter~sometimes they fight like they were the same age. For crap's sake.
I'm looking forward to the little
I'm SICK SICK SICK SICK with anger and disgust.
People who scam the elderly should be put to death by slow, torturous means. In fact, they should be kept barely alive so that they can be tortured over years and years, sort of like a prelude to Hell.
Which is where I'm hopeful they will burn for all eternity.
My grandma. Mrs. Claus is what she looks like~all short and round and cheery.
Not too bright when it comes to today's world...what I mean is she's naive.
So when some asshole calls and says he's from her bank and that someone has been withdrawing money from her account and they'll replace it with a thousand dollars as soon as she gives them her bank account number, she gives them the information.
I am FURIOUS with my grandma.
She never watches the news, she doesn't think people are untrustworthy, she...she...I DON'T KNOW I'M SO FUCKING PISSED OFF.
I think HOW could she be so stupid? Why would someone from the bank need for her to tell them her account number? Shouldn't they have that information?
But it never occured to her to doubt the "Bank" representative.
And this is what makes me the angriest at Grandma: She thinks mom and I are WRONG about her being scammed.
So banks just give out free money now to "pay you back"??
We told her that she needed to CALL HER BANK and CLOSE HER ACCOUNT (not that there's anything left in there by now I'm sure, but her Social Security is auto-deposited)...she just went "Eh!" and waved us off with her chubby little hand.
I.AM.INSANELY.ANGRY.
Like killing angry, almost.
I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to throw up.
So we had to tell my uncle...and he's got a volatile temper and isn't nice on his best day.
He and I are a lot alike, except I don't yell at old people. It's rude.
Anyway. Grandma didn't want us to tell him because he bitches at her all the time anyway...so we had my dad tell my uncle, along with the added threat that if he (uncle T) yelled at grandma in his usual crazed manner, dad would whip his ass.
Man, my family is swell.
I want to shake my grandma until her (false) teeth rattle.
I want to hunt down the perpetrators and beat them bloody. And then do it again.
And again.
switching gears...
I'm off to Texas shortly to drop my kids with the Sperm Donor.
NO KIDS FOR A WHOLE DAY AND A HALF!
I get to see my fabulous wonderful pal JULES, and hopefully IVY as well.
I wanted to see JIM, but he's going to be a little too far away. :(
Maybe next time...*winky wink*
I know it's disappointing, but you're going to have to carry on without me this weekend.
Boohoo...actually I'm more wondering how I will make it without YOU.
I'll be thinking of you...some of you more intimately than others.
But I ain't a-sayin' which is which. :)
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Early Warning System
Dear Anyone Who Is Unfortunate Enough To Come Into Contact With Me Today:
I have PMS and an excruciating tension headache that a handful of aspirin hasn't even touched.
So don't take any of those insulting remarks personally, mmmmmkay?
I'll be totally sorry for them later. I mean it. I will.
At some point. Maybe.
Forgive me for the...inventive and nonsensical names I call you, like stupid ass-munch dillhole sonofabitch or shit-ass freak of nature piss head.
When I say that you're irritating the living shit out of me, or when I say stop that freaking whining, or when I say you're tap dancing along my last good nerve...
I most probably don't really mean it.
Love and kisses,
Me
I asked my local barista what an Americano was...she said it's espresso and water.
Um. Isn't that just regular coffee?
I was digging through my archives and ran across something that reminded me that I wanted to ask you a question...
Have you ever deleted a post because the comments didn't go your way?
I've deleted posts for many reasons~usually because once it got out of my head it didn't sound the same and I hated it, or was embarrassed for the poor stupid little post.
Sometimes they're just too cantankerous even for me.
But have you ever deleted a whole post because the comments didn't go the way you thought they would? Because you expected one thing, and people went the opposite direction?
When I leave comments I usually speak my opinion...but I attempt to be tactful if it is an opposing view.
But then again, you never know what the person reading the comments thinks, do you? You don't know what frame of mind they're in. You don't know if they're getting the subtleties of your remark. They can't hear your tone, read your body language.
So, have you? Hit that delete key after the fact because people didn't agree with you?
I have. Once.
So 'fess up, my pretties.
I have PMS and an excruciating tension headache that a handful of aspirin hasn't even touched.
So don't take any of those insulting remarks personally, mmmmmkay?
I'll be totally sorry for them later. I mean it. I will.
Forgive me for the...inventive and nonsensical names I call you, like stupid ass-munch dillhole sonofabitch or shit-ass freak of nature piss head.
When I say that you're irritating the living shit out of me, or when I say stop that freaking whining, or when I say you're tap dancing along my last good nerve...
I most probably don't really mean it.
Love and kisses,
Me
I asked my local barista what an Americano was...she said it's espresso and water.
Um. Isn't that just regular coffee?
I was digging through my archives and ran across something that reminded me that I wanted to ask you a question...
Have you ever deleted a post because the comments didn't go your way?
I've deleted posts for many reasons~usually because once it got out of my head it didn't sound the same and I hated it, or was embarrassed for the poor stupid little post.
Sometimes they're just too cantankerous even for me.
But have you ever deleted a whole post because the comments didn't go the way you thought they would? Because you expected one thing, and people went the opposite direction?
When I leave comments I usually speak my opinion...but I attempt to be tactful if it is an opposing view.
But then again, you never know what the person reading the comments thinks, do you? You don't know what frame of mind they're in. You don't know if they're getting the subtleties of your remark. They can't hear your tone, read your body language.
So, have you? Hit that delete key after the fact because people didn't agree with you?
I have. Once.
So 'fess up, my pretties.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Giving Thanks
Please go say "HOWDY!" to these people, for they are the ones who donated more than a thousand dollars of their hard-earned money to sponsor me in the Blogathon.
Thank you so very, very much.
I owe you all an $800 song, a $900 song, and the *gulp* $1K Buffy.
You'll be sorry. :)
My Sponsors
ELLE
SARA
HEATHER
PETER
NANCY
WK's MOTHER
BossLady
MOMSLO
DAWN
LISA
IVY
MEG
FUBSY
RAGGEDY
MEATHE
DEBI
ALALA
THUMPER
GOOBER QUEEN
ROSE
HOSS
MIKEY
RAEHAN
MANGO
CRYSTAL
KAREN
JULES
BRIAN
CASCOKAT
WAI
DUBLE
DEEJAY
WEBKITTYN
MEGAN
MOMMAK
CHAZ
HERE'S LUCY
JEN
BUNNILICIOUS
And a special word of thanks for all the Anonymous Donors~I had SIX anonymous donors, and I'd love to thank you personally if I could.
Just know that I am grateful to you as well~I didn't want you to think I had forgotten you simply because you chose not to reveal your name.
Another special word of thanks for all of you who became my own personal PUBLICISTS, plugging my site and encouraging your readers to step up to the plate. I thank you, your efforts did not go unnoticed or unappreciated.
Thank you so very, very much.
I owe you all an $800 song, a $900 song, and the *gulp* $1K Buffy.
You'll be sorry. :)
ELLE
SARA
HEATHER
PETER
NANCY
WK's MOTHER
BossLady
MOMSLO
DAWN
LISA
IVY
MEG
FUBSY
RAGGEDY
MEATHE
DEBI
ALALA
THUMPER
GOOBER QUEEN
ROSE
HOSS
MIKEY
RAEHAN
MANGO
CRYSTAL
KAREN
JULES
BRIAN
CASCOKAT
WAI
DUBLE
DEEJAY
WEBKITTYN
MEGAN
MOMMAK
CHAZ
HERE'S LUCY
JEN
BUNNILICIOUS
And a special word of thanks for all the Anonymous Donors~I had SIX anonymous donors, and I'd love to thank you personally if I could.
Just know that I am grateful to you as well~I didn't want you to think I had forgotten you simply because you chose not to reveal your name.
Another special word of thanks for all of you who became my own personal PUBLICISTS, plugging my site and encouraging your readers to step up to the plate. I thank you, your efforts did not go unnoticed or unappreciated.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
$1K, A Perfect Post, and a HOT Mix
$1030!
Forty-four pledges. FORTY FOUR!
44 44 44 44
I didn't think I knew that many people. :)
YOU ARE THE BEST. BAR NONE.
Thank you.
It is time once again for the
I have chosen the post I'M REAL by WebKittyn.
This post managed to eloquently put into words the feelings that I've had too. I'm guessing a large number of you could say the same...it's beautiful, it's moving, it's true and I just want to say yes, WebKittyn, you are real.
YOU MATTER to me. For real.
HOT HOT HAWT!
When MixMaster Jim announced the next MixMania theme, I was overjoyed~he said to make it Hot HOT HAWT!
I have to say that so many songs immediately sprang to the forefront of my mind...by sheer dint of will I was able to restrain myself to two discs, although I could've easily done three or four without breaking a (hot) sweat.
I totally indulged myself in my selections, and though I realize my music taste is not to everyone's liking, I tried to make it listener-friendly.
So here you go~I included some songs that make me want to grab the nearest pole and start dancing, some that bring to mind images of hot, sweaty, back-alley sex, and some that are just classic 'hot' songs. Hot guitar licks, hot foxy men & women, burning hot and summertime heat...
DISC 1
1. Fever - Peggy Lee
2. Rock Candy - Bullet Boys
3. Foxy Lady - Jimi Hendrix
4. 20th Century Fox - The Doors
5. Pink - Aerosmith
6. I Want Your Sex - George Michael
7. Tempted - Squeeze
8. Love To Love You Baby - Donna Summer (this one doesn't need any explanation, does it?)
9. You Can Leave Your Hat On - Joe Cocker (remember Kim Basinger and that scene in 9 1/2 Weeks? H-H-O-O-O-O-T!)
10. Portions For Foxes - Rilo Kiley (Grey's Anatomy fans should recognize this one...Mmmm...McDreamy...HOTHOTHOT)
11. Summer Breeze - Jason Mraz (Okay, I prefer the original, but I was tryin' to be 'hip' or something)
12. Passion - Rod Stewart
13. Summer Son - Texas (sorry, I left this one out earlier. D'oh.)
14. Nasty Girl - Vanity 6 (Remember Vanity 6? HOT. Seriously hot.)
15. Touch Me - Samantha Fox (Wasn't she a porn star at one time?)
16. Darling Nikki - Prince (Who was hotter than Prince, back then? NOBODY.)
17. Naughty Girls Need Love Too - Samantha Fox
18. Summer Wine - Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazelwood
19. Get Drunk & Screw - Jimmy Buffet (I love Jimmy Buffet. He makes me think of hot sandy beaches & margaritas)
20. Sit On My Face - Monty Python (would you believe some boys still think saying that to a girl makes her hot? Srsly. Sad.)
DISC 2
1. Somethin's Burnin' - Kenny Rogers & The First Edition (We had this on 8-track when I was a kid. It sounds dirtier now than it did then)
2. Burning Down The House - Talking Heads
3. Hunk Of Burnin' Love - Elvis (because what HOT mix is complete without a li'l Elvis?)
4. Let Me Stand Next To Your Fire - Jimi Hendrix
5. Hot Fun In The Summertime - Sly & The Family Stone
6. Hot Summer Nights - Meatloaf (well you took the words right out of my mouth...must've been while you were kissin' me...)
7. Some Like It Hot - Robert Palmer
8. Drop It Like It's Hot - Snoop Dogg
9. Steam Heat - from the show "Pajama Game".
10. Hotter Than Hell - KISS
11. Ring Of Fire - Johnny Cash
12. Summertime Blues - Eddie Cochrane
13. Summer Nights - Danny & Sandy (John Travolta & Olivia Newton John), GREASE
14. Heat Of The Moment - Asia
15. Hot For Teacher - Van Halen (for all my favorite educators~you know who you are)
16. Light My Fire - The Doors
17. Cool Me Down - Jenai (need a little cool-down after all that heat, yes?)
18. Love You A Little Bit More - Dr. Hook
19. My Baby You - Marc Anthony (His singing voice makes me want to have sex. With him, even. Though I would probably snap him like a little twig.
Screw you, J-HO. You got nothin' on me.)
20. HOT HOT HOT - Buster Poindexter (seriously, how could I NOT add this one?)
I hope you enjoyed it!
If anyone wants a copy, gmail me your address. :)
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