Forgive me, I was unavailable this weekend (and no, unfortunately I wasn't doing anything exciting and/or naughty. More's the pity).
I was supposed to REVEAL ALL on Saturday for MIXMANIA...I know that you're all panting in antici.....................................................
.............................................................pation, so here we go!
If you'll recall, I mentioned that I used TWO themes and put them under the umbrella title of Reading Rainbow.
One theme came to me easily...at least, the concept did. But I was having trouble finding songs to go with it without being dreadfully obscure.
So I chose another (and easier!)(and obvious!) theme and kept the original as a "bonus".
Without further ado....
Theme 1: Color My World
This one was easy as I'd just used the same theme on my radio show.
Disc 1:
123 Red Light - 1910 Fruitgum Company
Bad Bad Leroy Brown - Jim Croce
Behind These Hazel Eyes - Kelly Clarkson
Black Horse & Cherry Tree - KT Tunstall
Blue Monday - New Order
Scarlet Fever - Kenny Rogers
Forever In Blue Jeans - Neil Diamond
Gold Dust Woman - Fleetwood Mac
Goodbye Blue Sky - Pink Floyd
Green Onions - Booker T & The MGs
Hooray For Hazel - Tommy Roe
Mellow Yellow - Donovan
Pink - Aerosmith
Blue Skies - Ella Fitzgerald
Red Rubber Ball - Cyrkle
Silver Blue & Gold - Bad Company
Roses Are Red (My Love) - Bobby Vinton
Suite Madam Blue - Styx
Paint It Black - Rolling Stones
Blue Eyes Cryin' In The Rain - Willie Nelson
DISC 2:
Whiter Shade Of Pale - Annie Lennox
Babysitting Blues - Elisabeth Shue, Adv. In Babysitting
Turquoise Boy - Sonic Youth
Behind Blue Eyes - The Who
Black Betty - Ram Jam
Blue Eyes - Elton John
Something In Red - Lorrie Morgan
Blue Morning, Blue Day - Foreigner
Purple People Eater - Sheb Wooley
Green Eyed Lady - Sugarloaf
Little Red Riding Hood - Sam The Sham & The Pharoahs
Bluer Than Blue - Michael Johnson
Nights In White Satin - Moody Blues
Purple Rain - Prince
Ride The White Horse - Laid Back
Ruby - Kenny Rogers
Coat Of Many Colors - Dolly Parton
(I actually have many more "color" songs, but that would have been yet another disc and four seems a little excessive, even to me)
Theme 2 ("BONUS" Theme): BY THE BOOK
My original idea...songs about/featuring works of (or characters in) literature.
Well, I thought it was clever.
BONUS DISC 3:
Tom Sawyer - Rush (The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain)
Rocket Man - Elton John (The Rocket Man short story in The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury)
1984 - David Bowie (1984 by George Orwell)
Wuthering Heights - Pat Benetar (Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte)
Godzilla - Blue Oyster Cult (okay, this one doesn't technically qualify, but it's a favorite song of mine)
Just Like Romeo & Juliet - The Reflections (do I really need to explain this one?)
A Picture Of Dorian Gray - The Futureheads (The Picture Of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde)
Lolita - Elefant (Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov)
Who Wrote Holden Caulfield? - Green Day (The Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger)
My Antonia - Emmylou Harris & Dave Matthews (My Antonia by Willa Cather)
Rime Of The Ancient Mariner - Iron Maiden (Rime Of The Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge)
Love Song For A Vampire - Annie Lennox (Dracula by Bram Stoker)
Happy Freakin' Monday.
That is all.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Brain Soup du Jour: Confessional Stew
Sometimes it's just waaaaaaaay too much trouble to speak--naturally, that's when everyone I know wants to talk to me--and I can't even bring myself to part my lips and instead answer everyone in grunts and grumbles.
Sometimes I pretend to be interested in something when in truth I couldn't care less.
Sometimes I worry that pretending like that makes me a really bad person.
Sometimes I hate the fact that my brain forces me to be honest with myself, when it would be so much easier (and more fun!) tobe delusional suffer a little self-delusion from time to time.
Sometimes I burst into tears for no apparent reason.
Sometimes I think I've answered an email, then two months (or so) passes before I realize that I really didn't answer it after all, except in my head.
**Speaking of which, when is it really too late to answer an email?? Because I might still be in the grace period. But I doubt it.
Sometimes I really, really, really want to tell everyone what they're doing wrong in their lives, because that gives me a...rationalization...as to why I can leave my own untended.
Sometimes I really, really, really want to tell everyone what they're doing wrong in their lives, just because I know everything anyways and people should just do us all a favor and take my advice.
Sometimes I'm facetious. (NO! Really?)
Sometimes I eat the whole pint of Ben & Jerry's in one sitting.
I believe...
...in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.
...that just because you can say whatever you want, doesn't necessarily mean that you should.
...that sometimes people get so caught up in fighting for their rights and civil liberties that they forget how to use them.
...creating 'designer babies' in a lab is morally wrong and should be punishable by life imprisonment.
...that my friends are the best ones of all. (yeah, that means you)
Sometimes I pretend to be interested in something when in truth I couldn't care less.
Sometimes I worry that pretending like that makes me a really bad person.
Sometimes I hate the fact that my brain forces me to be honest with myself, when it would be so much easier (and more fun!) to
Sometimes I burst into tears for no apparent reason.
Sometimes I think I've answered an email, then two months (or so) passes before I realize that I really didn't answer it after all, except in my head.
**Speaking of which, when is it really too late to answer an email?? Because I might still be in the grace period. But I doubt it.
Sometimes I really, really, really want to tell everyone what they're doing wrong in their lives, because that gives me a...rationalization...as to why I can leave my own untended.
Sometimes I really, really, really want to tell everyone what they're doing wrong in their lives, just because I know everything anyways and people should just do us all a favor and take my advice.
Sometimes I'm facetious. (NO! Really?)
Sometimes I eat the whole pint of Ben & Jerry's in one sitting.
I believe...
...that just because you can say whatever you want, doesn't necessarily mean that you should.
...that sometimes people get so caught up in fighting for their rights and civil liberties that they forget how to use them.
...creating 'designer babies' in a lab is morally wrong and should be punishable by life imprisonment.
...that my friends are the best ones of all. (yeah, that means you)
Saturday, February 24, 2007
MIXM-M-M-MANIA!!
Okay, so Jim, the MIXMASTER of all MIXES, the MAESTRO of MUSIC, tells me that I have to fess up to my MIXMANIA THEME.
This month was a....Make Your Own theme. Now, I was thinking about this, and if I confess my theme then my recipient will know exactly from whom they received their mix because it is glaringly obvious.
I will say that I actually have two themes.
The first one came to me right away, and I must say that I thought it was quite clever.
However.
Finding the songs to match the theme was a-whole-nother story.
So.
I looked into my playlist and found a theme staring right at me, cake and pie (piece of, easy as). But I couldn't forget my original theme.
So, I cannot tell you, exactly, what my themes are.
I will give you this clue--both themes can be found under the umbrella title:
Reading Rainbow
Puzzle that one out, if you can. :)
I have talked myself into believing that my gray hairs are not actually gray hairs, they're platinum blond.
That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.
That is all.
Have a day.
This month was a....Make Your Own theme. Now, I was thinking about this, and if I confess my theme then my recipient will know exactly from whom they received their mix because it is glaringly obvious.
I will say that I actually have two themes.
The first one came to me right away, and I must say that I thought it was quite clever.
However.
Finding the songs to match the theme was a-whole-nother story.
So.
I looked into my playlist and found a theme staring right at me, cake and pie (piece of, easy as). But I couldn't forget my original theme.
So, I cannot tell you, exactly, what my themes are.
I will give you this clue--both themes can be found under the umbrella title:
Puzzle that one out, if you can. :)
I have talked myself into believing that my gray hairs are not actually gray hairs, they're platinum blond.
That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.
That is all.
Have a day.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Sometimes you just have to laugh...
If I don't get into a diet and exercise routine very soon, I'm going to be legally required to have "Hindenberg" embroidered across the ass of all my pants.
Seriously, the beeping when I back up is annoying enough already.
The bad thing about
A. Being less than...vigilant...about cleaning the microwave
and
2. Often popping things into the microwave without a plate
is that you can sometimes get some unusual textures and flavors.
Or...so I've heard.
Calling all my beloved computer geeks!
So, my computer crapped out last night. In a normal world, this would probably fall on the large end of the minor annoyance scale.
However, since I do 75% of my job on my home computer, it's just short of disastrous.
Here's what: Right in the middle of working, my monitor went blank. I looked at the processor (a Dell), which has two little green lights on the front, one of which blinks whilst working.
Only this time, one of the lights was out and the other was slowly blinking yellow.
I have no idea if it's a virus or something...mechanical.
I had to actually cut the power to the damn thing to get it to turn off...waited a bit, then tried again. Started up just fine, no problems...then after about 15 minutes it happened again. And then again. And then again this morning.
I tried to run a virus scan and the thing went blank & gave me the yellow light right in the middle. Same thing when I tried to run a computer checkup.
I'm out of ideas.
To my local friends:
Are any of you sufficiently geeky to say things like, "Hey, let me jes' take a look-see at that fer ya"? And then perform exploratory surgery to see what's the problem?
I admit to indulging in a brief moment of self-pity in which I thought why me?, but quickly recovered with a why NOT me? What makes me so extra-special that I should be excused from troubles?
So I sat down to figure out what I could do.
Well, obviously I'm going to have to change my work schedule and work at the Studio instead of home--at least until I can afford to have the computer fixed (or until a beloved computer geek decides to help me out of pure love and the goodness of his/her heart).
My radio show will have to be on temporary hiatus.
This blog will have to be on temporary hiatus, except if I can sneak some time whilst at work.
Nothing earth-shattering. I can handle this. Right?
The lotto is over 60 million for Wednesday's drawing.
Iwasted invested five bucks for a chance to win.
Wish me luck.
If I win, you're all coming to Vegas with me for a weekend of debauchery.
I've never been there--first one to debauch me wins a bonus prize. *winky smile*
Seriously, the beeping when I back up is annoying enough already.
The bad thing about
A. Being less than...vigilant...about cleaning the microwave
and
2. Often popping things into the microwave without a plate
is that you can sometimes get some unusual textures and flavors.
Or...so I've heard.
Calling all my beloved computer geeks!
So, my computer crapped out last night. In a normal world, this would probably fall on the large end of the minor annoyance scale.
However, since I do 75% of my job on my home computer, it's just short of disastrous.
Here's what: Right in the middle of working, my monitor went blank. I looked at the processor (a Dell), which has two little green lights on the front, one of which blinks whilst working.
Only this time, one of the lights was out and the other was slowly blinking yellow.
I have no idea if it's a virus or something...mechanical.
I had to actually cut the power to the damn thing to get it to turn off...waited a bit, then tried again. Started up just fine, no problems...then after about 15 minutes it happened again. And then again. And then again this morning.
I tried to run a virus scan and the thing went blank & gave me the yellow light right in the middle. Same thing when I tried to run a computer checkup.
I'm out of ideas.
To my local friends:
Are any of you sufficiently geeky to say things like, "Hey, let me jes' take a look-see at that fer ya"? And then perform exploratory surgery to see what's the problem?
I admit to indulging in a brief moment of self-pity in which I thought why me?, but quickly recovered with a why NOT me? What makes me so extra-special that I should be excused from troubles?
So I sat down to figure out what I could do.
Well, obviously I'm going to have to change my work schedule and work at the Studio instead of home--at least until I can afford to have the computer fixed (or until a beloved computer geek decides to help me out of pure love and the goodness of his/her heart).
My radio show will have to be on temporary hiatus.
This blog will have to be on temporary hiatus, except if I can sneak some time whilst at work.
Nothing earth-shattering. I can handle this. Right?
The lotto is over 60 million for Wednesday's drawing.
I
Wish me luck.
If I win, you're all coming to Vegas with me for a weekend of debauchery.
I've never been there--first one to debauch me wins a bonus prize. *winky smile*
Saturday, February 17, 2007
I'd like to thank...
the podcasting gods who made this award possible
GOLFWIDOW and ANDY.
Now I truly am one of the cool kids.
GOLFWIDOW and ANDY.
Now I truly am one of the cool kids.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Brain Soup du Jour
**I'm taping tonight! So CALL ME! 206-66-MOJO-1
Okay, not so much an ode as a...limerick.
Hey, I know my limitations.
Webmiztris, with talent and taste
Face-lifted my blog with due haste
Made it fresher and clean
Using purple and green
Then she said, "NOW PAY UP OR GET MACED!"
(*teehee*, I made that last part up. But the rest is true)
Now, please do me a favor and toddle on over to Dawn's place and tell her how fabulous she is for doing such a wonderful job here.
I was watching a trailer for Blood & Chocolate, and even though it's a lycan movie and not a vampire movie, it made me think that if I were a vampire, I would force my victims to eat like about 5 pounds of chocolate before I sucked their blood.
I think they would taste more delicious that way.
Sometimes I take a step back from my life and think, "I have no idea what the hell I'm doing."
in the same vein...
Sometimes I look at my kids and think, "I have no idea how to be a mother."
Or sometimes
"How bad have I screwed them up already?"
And once in a while
"My daughter is going to need years of intensive therapy to undo the damage."
Then I just keep winging it.
I really, really hate it when people try to make me feel guilty for choices I've made.
Even if they were really bad choices.
That is all.
Have a day.
Okay, not so much an ode as a...limerick.
Hey, I know my limitations.
Webmiztris, with talent and taste
Face-lifted my blog with due haste
Made it fresher and clean
Using purple and green
Then she said, "NOW PAY UP OR GET MACED!"
(*teehee*, I made that last part up. But the rest is true)
Now, please do me a favor and toddle on over to Dawn's place and tell her how fabulous she is for doing such a wonderful job here.
I was watching a trailer for Blood & Chocolate, and even though it's a lycan movie and not a vampire movie, it made me think that if I were a vampire, I would force my victims to eat like about 5 pounds of chocolate before I sucked their blood.
I think they would taste more delicious that way.
Sometimes I take a step back from my life and think, "I have no idea what the hell I'm doing."
in the same vein...
Sometimes I look at my kids and think, "I have no idea how to be a mother."
Or sometimes
"How bad have I screwed them up already?"
And once in a while
"My daughter is going to need years of intensive therapy to undo the damage."
Then I just keep winging it.
I really, really hate it when people try to make me feel guilty for choices I've made.
Even if they were really bad choices.
That is all.
Have a day.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
I feel pretty, oh so pretty...
Yeah, how do you like me now??
I do love my old template--but did you know? Every time I got a critique on this site, the main complaint was the color. I personally thought it looked great, but whatever.
Anyway, I decided that for spring and summer I needed something a little lighter, a little brighter...and thanks to the incredibly talented DAWN, that's exactly what I've got.
I'm composing an ode to her right now.
So, what do you think?
OH and PS: I hope you all had a great VD, and I mean that in thenastiest nicest way possible.
I was in bed with the flu.
But there was chocolate. So it wasn't so bad.
I do love my old template--but did you know? Every time I got a critique on this site, the main complaint was the color. I personally thought it looked great, but whatever.
Anyway, I decided that for spring and summer I needed something a little lighter, a little brighter...and thanks to the incredibly talented DAWN, that's exactly what I've got.
I'm composing an ode to her right now.
So, what do you think?
OH and PS: I hope you all had a great VD, and I mean that in the
I was in bed with the flu.
But there was chocolate. So it wasn't so bad.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Happy Birthday Babies ooooh I love you so!
***This is a re-post from last year, with the proper updates. And it swells my heart just as much this year, just as much as it does every year.
Quote of the Day:
"Parents who do not have Internet should have their children taken away." ~~Peggy Hill
Happy Birthday, my darlings! You are 12 years old today!
Did you know that my due date was June 4?
But my impatient children arrived February 13, 1995.
24 hours of labor, which the doctors tried to stop.
My son came first, in the usual way. (in this picture he was actually one month and one day old)
As they were wheeling me to recovery, my daughter's heart rate dropped to zero, and she was removed by emergency C-section fifty-six minutes after her brother was delivered. (and she is one month and one day old here)
I was stapled from head to toe, practically. Or at least that's how I felt.
And I fell in love with morphine.
In recovery I heard my mom & stepmom talking about the children~I told everyone to shut up shut up shut up because I didn't want to hear that they had died.
But they hadn't. Thank you, God.
They struggled for every single breath. They fought to live.
And so they did.
Thank you, God.
For this little miracle....(my girl at about 2 months)
and this little miracle...(my boy at about 3 or 4 months)
The doctors gave them less than a 50% chance of survival.
We fooled 'em good, din't we?
About a pound each, about a foot long...
My girl here is about a year old, this is one of my favorite pictures of her~she looks so pensive.
And here is my sister with two skinny little year-and-a-half(ish) babies:
One morning I discovered that my daughter knew how to climb into her brother's crib..
And she always....
...always has loved him best.
(yes, her mouth is blue...she was putting eye shadow on. On her lips. Yep. You should have seen what she did to me earlier that day with lipstick...whilst I was catnapping on the couch.)
When she was about two, this is what "Go get ready for bed" meant:
Already trying to fill mommy's shoes, trailing that damned oxygen hose behind her (that I tripped on a thousand and one times):
Here's my little guy at about 6 or 7 months old, not too long after he finally got to come home from the hospital...
He had the softest, wispiest hair so I let it grow and grow...he's about two-ish here:
And second grade...
And last year (4th grade)....
And TODAY.
How could I not believe in a higher power? In miracles?
I love you, my babies. I'm thankful for every breath that you take, every blink of your eyes, every morning that you wake. I love you.
If all the world was a beach, I would love you more than all the grains of sand added together. Times ten thousand.
Happy, happy birthday.
Quote of the Day:
"Parents who do not have Internet should have their children taken away." ~~Peggy Hill
Did you know that my due date was June 4?
But my impatient children arrived February 13, 1995.
24 hours of labor, which the doctors tried to stop.
My son came first, in the usual way. (in this picture he was actually one month and one day old)
As they were wheeling me to recovery, my daughter's heart rate dropped to zero, and she was removed by emergency C-section fifty-six minutes after her brother was delivered. (and she is one month and one day old here)
I was stapled from head to toe, practically. Or at least that's how I felt.
And I fell in love with morphine.
In recovery I heard my mom & stepmom talking about the children~I told everyone to shut up shut up shut up because I didn't want to hear that they had died.
But they hadn't. Thank you, God.
They struggled for every single breath. They fought to live.
And so they did.
Thank you, God.
For this little miracle....(my girl at about 2 months)
and this little miracle...(my boy at about 3 or 4 months)
The doctors gave them less than a 50% chance of survival.
We fooled 'em good, din't we?
About a pound each, about a foot long...
My girl here is about a year old, this is one of my favorite pictures of her~she looks so pensive.
And here is my sister with two skinny little year-and-a-half(ish) babies:
One morning I discovered that my daughter knew how to climb into her brother's crib..
And she always....
...always has loved him best.
(yes, her mouth is blue...she was putting eye shadow on. On her lips. Yep. You should have seen what she did to me earlier that day with lipstick...whilst I was catnapping on the couch.)
When she was about two, this is what "Go get ready for bed" meant:
Already trying to fill mommy's shoes, trailing that damned oxygen hose behind her (that I tripped on a thousand and one times):
Here's my little guy at about 6 or 7 months old, not too long after he finally got to come home from the hospital...
He had the softest, wispiest hair so I let it grow and grow...he's about two-ish here:
And second grade...
And last year (4th grade)....
And TODAY.
How could I not believe in a higher power? In miracles?
I love you, my babies. I'm thankful for every breath that you take, every blink of your eyes, every morning that you wake. I love you.
If all the world was a beach, I would love you more than all the grains of sand added together. Times ten thousand.
Happy, happy birthday.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Do I need to draw you a picture?
You know the drill.
And if you don't, you should. You're a multi-tasker, right? So you can listen and work at the SAME TIME. How exciting!
**BONUS: Special dedication to all my pretend boyfriends.
I was wondering how many times a day you want to smack someone and say, "Seriously? It's time to get over yourself."
I'd tell you how many times it is for me, but I really don't think I can count that high.
To Brag...
The Junior High music teachers visited my little pixie's school last week...let the 5th graders play with some of the instruments and then they took some sort of music aptitude test wherein they watched a video and then answered questions.
First, let me say that I'm so not musically inclined.
I mean, I am when it comes to feeling music, listening to it and enjoying it...but I never played an instrument.
I can't even read music. Although I DID teach myself to play the opening bit of "Greensleeves" by ear.
Anyway.
My daughter had told me that the music teacher was impressed with the way she played the--of all things--slide trombone. And the clarinet. And the viola.
THEN last night the jr. high music teacher called me at home to tell me that Becca had scored very high on the aptitude test and hoped that I'd let her take band.
Guess I'm going to have to go get a clarinet. Or slide trombone. She decided to pass on the viola...but sort of likes the cello.
I hope she passes on the cello too, since it's about 2 feet taller than she is.
When she was about 3 years old, she'd take her little keyboard and sit in front of the television and try to play along with the theme songs and commercial jingles...rhythmically, she was actually pretty good.
And then the drum set.
Oy.
I'm not quite sure how I'll be able to handle the practice sessions...
but damn if I'm not proud of the little brat.
.
And if you don't, you should. You're a multi-tasker, right? So you can listen and work at the SAME TIME. How exciting!
**BONUS: Special dedication to all my pretend boyfriends.
I was wondering how many times a day you want to smack someone and say, "Seriously? It's time to get over yourself."
I'd tell you how many times it is for me, but I really don't think I can count that high.
To Brag...
The Junior High music teachers visited my little pixie's school last week...let the 5th graders play with some of the instruments and then they took some sort of music aptitude test wherein they watched a video and then answered questions.
First, let me say that I'm so not musically inclined.
I mean, I am when it comes to feeling music, listening to it and enjoying it...but I never played an instrument.
I can't even read music. Although I DID teach myself to play the opening bit of "Greensleeves" by ear.
Anyway.
My daughter had told me that the music teacher was impressed with the way she played the--of all things--slide trombone. And the clarinet. And the viola.
THEN last night the jr. high music teacher called me at home to tell me that Becca had scored very high on the aptitude test and hoped that I'd let her take band.
Guess I'm going to have to go get a clarinet. Or slide trombone. She decided to pass on the viola...but sort of likes the cello.
I hope she passes on the cello too, since it's about 2 feet taller than she is.
When she was about 3 years old, she'd take her little keyboard and sit in front of the television and try to play along with the theme songs and commercial jingles...rhythmically, she was actually pretty good.
And then the drum set.
Oy.
I'm not quite sure how I'll be able to handle the practice sessions...
but damn if I'm not proud of the little brat.
.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
The Time Draweth Nigh
Yes, yes, it's that time once again where I nag you mercilessly...
Monty Does Mojo--PLAY BY NUMBERS
Sunday Night. 8PM Central Time
Tune in RIGHT HERE.
Your horoscope!
American Idol update!
ME! ME! ME!
Most excellent music of all kinds!
Did I mention ME! ME! ME! ?
MOJO MERCHANDISE!
Monty's Mojo Merchandise Coming Soon....
Sunday Night. 8PM Central Time
Tune in RIGHT HERE.
Your horoscope!
American Idol update!
ME! ME! ME!
Most excellent music of all kinds!
Did I mention ME! ME! ME! ?
Monty's Mojo Merchandise Coming Soon....
Saturday, February 10, 2007
How do you spell relief?
"What are you thankful for, Pooh Bear?"
"Oh, nothing short of EVERYTHING!"
Okay, so I went to Pep Boys last week to pay for the diagnostic on my car...and as you know, it still wasn't running because it was some sort of electrical problem and they don't do electrical.
I looked at the bill (and nearly swallowed my tongue, because it seemed like a lot of money for telling me they couldn't/wouldn't fix it)...and I noticed a "Miscellaneous Tools" charge for about $5.
What? Is that like a tip or something for the mechanic?
Because the mechanic wasn't there when I went to pay, and the manager couldn't explain to me what that charge was for.
Hey, in my world, five bucks is five bucks.
So they took that charge off my bill. (Go me!)
And THEN, perhaps because I was such a...girl about it (it's a role that I can play when I choose, although it doesn't suit me to be that way all the time)-or maybe he was just embarrassed to have been caught trying to rip me off-the guy gave me an additional 10% off the total. (again, Go Me!)
Then my dad & brother got my car to another place, and they fixed it right up.
So yay, transportation again.
My show on Sunday is going to be really good, so you should make sure to listen.
Or at least download it later. I'm flexible.
(very flexible)(but I'm not bragging)(much)
Shitty Blog Survivor.
Many will enter. One will survive.
Remember how much fun I had with the tasks last year? I had to write & sing a little ditty about Shitty Blog Survivor. I did the scavenger hunt. I shamelessly bribed the judges with nudie pics (well, I PROMISED them nudie pics, but I didn't deliver. Such is the nature of being a Shitty Blogger).
And most importantly....I Won. I was the Sole Survivor.
Care to challenge me? Yellow-belly.
"Oh, nothing short of EVERYTHING!"
Okay, so I went to Pep Boys last week to pay for the diagnostic on my car...and as you know, it still wasn't running because it was some sort of electrical problem and they don't do electrical.
I looked at the bill (and nearly swallowed my tongue, because it seemed like a lot of money for telling me they couldn't/wouldn't fix it)...and I noticed a "Miscellaneous Tools" charge for about $5.
What? Is that like a tip or something for the mechanic?
Because the mechanic wasn't there when I went to pay, and the manager couldn't explain to me what that charge was for.
Hey, in my world, five bucks is five bucks.
So they took that charge off my bill. (Go me!)
And THEN, perhaps because I was such a...girl about it (it's a role that I can play when I choose, although it doesn't suit me to be that way all the time)-or maybe he was just embarrassed to have been caught trying to rip me off-the guy gave me an additional 10% off the total. (again, Go Me!)
Then my dad & brother got my car to another place, and they fixed it right up.
So yay, transportation again.
My show on Sunday is going to be really good, so you should make sure to listen.
Or at least download it later. I'm flexible.
(very flexible)(but I'm not bragging)(much)
Many will enter. One will survive.
Remember how much fun I had with the tasks last year? I had to write & sing a little ditty about Shitty Blog Survivor. I did the scavenger hunt. I shamelessly bribed the judges with nudie pics (well, I PROMISED them nudie pics, but I didn't deliver. Such is the nature of being a Shitty Blogger).
And most importantly....I Won. I was the Sole Survivor.
Care to challenge me? Yellow-belly.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Now for the GOOD ones.
Remember those Bloggy awards a few weeks ago? Yeah, once again all the "Biggies" (dooce-ick, Waiter Rant, PostSecret, et al) swept the finals of those...only ONE of the blogs I nominated (Holtie's House) made the finals.
But now.
The GOOD awards, that cater to us small-timers, the little 'uns...
that's right, time for
The BoB Awards!!
Go forth and nominate.
Peace be unto you.
Even if you don't nominate me.
Want to have a spot on my radio show?
CALL ME!
206-66-MOJO-1
That is all.
Have a day.
But now.
The GOOD awards, that cater to us small-timers, the little 'uns...
that's right, time for
Go forth and nominate.
Peace be unto you.
Even if you don't nominate me.
Want to have a spot on my radio show?
CALL ME!
206-66-MOJO-1
That is all.
Have a day.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
blah blah blah
It is belief in love and hope for Mr. Right that keeps us shaving our legs.
I feel boring. I have nothing to say. I don't even have any interesting thoughts...well, except the one about the stranger in the elevator and...
you don't need to know about that.
I think the thing with the nosy checker boils down to the fact that I really, really don't like answering questions.
Did I mention?
I.AM. SHITTY BLOG OF THE YEAR!
Don't hate me because I'm shitty.
I'd like to thank all the little shitheads I had to step on and destroy to get where I am today.
****Want to be part of the show? Got somethin' to say?
CALL IT IN! LEAVE A MESSAGE!
206-66-MOJO-1
In case you missed it (and I know you did), you can listen any old time right here:
Click here to get your own player.
There's football music.
And horoscopes.
And American Idol updates (with re-enactments!)
Plus good music. And me, naturally.
Shitty Blog Survivor.
You know you want my title. If you think you can handle it.
Bring it.
I feel boring. I have nothing to say. I don't even have any interesting thoughts...well, except the one about the stranger in the elevator and...
you don't need to know about that.
I think the thing with the nosy checker boils down to the fact that I really, really don't like answering questions.
Did I mention?
I.AM. SHITTY BLOG OF THE YEAR!
Don't hate me because I'm shitty.
I'd like to thank all the little shitheads I had to step on and destroy to get where I am today.
****Want to be part of the show? Got somethin' to say?
CALL IT IN! LEAVE A MESSAGE!
206-66-MOJO-1
In case you missed it (and I know you did), you can listen any old time right here:
Click here to get your own player.
There's football music.
And horoscopes.
And American Idol updates (with re-enactments!)
Plus good music. And me, naturally.
Shitty Blog Survivor.
You know you want my title. If you think you can handle it.
Bring it.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Composure
"Aren't you ready then, Piglet?"
"Y-y-yes Pooh, I'm not!"
Dear Diary,
This week has been a shit sandwich and I hadda eat every bite.
First, I managed to piss off my whole fam damily. See, my sister's baby shower was supposed to be a couple weeks ago, and that was when we had the big ugly ice storm that closed the schools & such for a whole week, so naturally it was rescheduled.
Actually, the absolute last thing I heard about it was:
MOM: The shower tomorrow has been rescheduled, obviously, because of the weather.
That was it. Until this past SATURDAY NIGHT at about 7PM when I heard this:
MOM: If you want to ride with me and your grandma, we're leaving about two-ish.
Me: Huh?
MOM: You know how she likes to be EARLY for everything.
Me: Huh?
MOM: The shower tomorrow.
Me: Huh? What are you talking about?
MOM: Your sister's shower? Remember it had to be rescheduled for the 28th?
Me: You never told me when it was rescheduled for.
SISTER: Well, I left it to mom to tell you.
MOM: I thought I did. Why did you think I was going shopping for baby gifts today?
Me: You never said. Either of you. I thought you were going shopping for baby gifts because you're about to be a grandma again. Lauren was here most of the day, I had no idea that the shower was tomorrow.
Thing is, I have a lot of work to do.
So things deteriorated from there...and firstly, I don't really like babies. I don't really like showers of the baby or wedding sort. But truthfully, I really really really had a lot of work to do.
MOM: It's only a couple of hours. Be spontaneous. (she's getting pissed off at this point)
Well, here's the thing: it takes a couple of hours just to get all three of us ready to go. Then there's the fact that the place they were having the shower is a half hour away from me.
So no, it's not just a couple of hours. And I, for one, can't afford to have my paycheck shorted by $60 or so.
But according to the family, I didn't go because I was pouting or something.
Well...maybe I was. But only a little. I can't control how I feel...I can control how I express the feelings, but not the feelings themselves.
And yeah, I was feeling left out. And put-upon, because apparently it was MY responsibility to actively find out to whence the shower was moved.
maybe it was.
Should I have forgotten about working and just gone to the shower? Yeah, maybe.
But I didn't.
And now I'm the big asshole because I didn't go.
And then? Monday, my car died Again. Pep Boys charged me about a hundred bucks just to tell me that it was an electrical problem and they don't do electrical. So I'm still carless, for the moment.
And then? Instead of going to my regular grocery store, I went to a store over by my work. And the thing that I always say I WILL NOT let get to me, got to me.
I have yet to perfect the avoidance.
I've told you about it before.
Checker (as she starts scanning the diapers and the myriad jars of baby fruit):
You got a baby?
No, I just have eccentric eating habits and a diaper fetish, never mind that one diaper wouldn't cover half my left ass cheek.
ME: Mmmmm.
Checker: Got any pictures?
ME: No.
Checker: Really? I can't believe that. You must be the only mother doesn't have pictures of her kids. You need to get some pictures.
Me: Mmmm.
Checker: How old your baby is?
ME (trying to deflect): I have twins.
Checker: Really? Boys? Girls?
ME (hoping like hell she'll hurry up): One of each.
Checker (returning to the earlier question): So how old?
ME: Young.
Checker: Young, huh? They young? How young?
Shut up shut up SHUTUP WHY CAN'T YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!
I wonder, at this point, if I should've just lied & said 6 months old or something.
I always wonder, when it gets to that point. But then I wonder what MORE questions will come up.
And then I get pissed because I canNOT believe that people, who in all likelyhood are just trying to be friendly, WILL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE, cannot read my body language.
I have tried lying. I have tried evading. I have tried just telling it like it is up front. I've tried saying that I prefer not to discuss it.
I don't know why it STILL gets to me, I don't know how to stop it.
Can someone please tell me what to say? Because I don't know what to say.
Next time I go anywhere other than my familiar little Buy For Less two blocks away, I'm pretending to be mute. That's the only thing I can come up with.
And then? I took a shower.
Wondered when was the last time I shaved under my arms. Couldn't remember.
Decided I was too afraid to look.
It's Thursday now, and I'm totally traumatized.
So I think I'll pass on seconds of the shit sandwich. I'm all full up.
Full up to here.
Love,
Me
Sometimes when I talk to myself out loud, I use accents.
Hey, don't act like you've never done it.
"Y-y-yes Pooh, I'm not!"
Dear Diary,
This week has been a shit sandwich and I hadda eat every bite.
First, I managed to piss off my whole fam damily. See, my sister's baby shower was supposed to be a couple weeks ago, and that was when we had the big ugly ice storm that closed the schools & such for a whole week, so naturally it was rescheduled.
Actually, the absolute last thing I heard about it was:
MOM: The shower tomorrow has been rescheduled, obviously, because of the weather.
That was it. Until this past SATURDAY NIGHT at about 7PM when I heard this:
MOM: If you want to ride with me and your grandma, we're leaving about two-ish.
Me: Huh?
MOM: You know how she likes to be EARLY for everything.
Me: Huh?
MOM: The shower tomorrow.
Me: Huh? What are you talking about?
MOM: Your sister's shower? Remember it had to be rescheduled for the 28th?
Me: You never told me when it was rescheduled for.
SISTER: Well, I left it to mom to tell you.
MOM: I thought I did. Why did you think I was going shopping for baby gifts today?
Me: You never said. Either of you. I thought you were going shopping for baby gifts because you're about to be a grandma again. Lauren was here most of the day, I had no idea that the shower was tomorrow.
Thing is, I have a lot of work to do.
So things deteriorated from there...and firstly, I don't really like babies. I don't really like showers of the baby or wedding sort. But truthfully, I really really really had a lot of work to do.
MOM: It's only a couple of hours. Be spontaneous. (she's getting pissed off at this point)
Well, here's the thing: it takes a couple of hours just to get all three of us ready to go. Then there's the fact that the place they were having the shower is a half hour away from me.
So no, it's not just a couple of hours. And I, for one, can't afford to have my paycheck shorted by $60 or so.
But according to the family, I didn't go because I was pouting or something.
Well...maybe I was. But only a little. I can't control how I feel...I can control how I express the feelings, but not the feelings themselves.
And yeah, I was feeling left out. And put-upon, because apparently it was MY responsibility to actively find out to whence the shower was moved.
maybe it was.
Should I have forgotten about working and just gone to the shower? Yeah, maybe.
But I didn't.
And now I'm the big asshole because I didn't go.
And then? Monday, my car died Again. Pep Boys charged me about a hundred bucks just to tell me that it was an electrical problem and they don't do electrical. So I'm still carless, for the moment.
And then? Instead of going to my regular grocery store, I went to a store over by my work. And the thing that I always say I WILL NOT let get to me, got to me.
I have yet to perfect the avoidance.
I've told you about it before.
Checker (as she starts scanning the diapers and the myriad jars of baby fruit):
You got a baby?
No, I just have eccentric eating habits and a diaper fetish, never mind that one diaper wouldn't cover half my left ass cheek.
ME: Mmmmm.
Checker: Got any pictures?
ME: No.
Checker: Really? I can't believe that. You must be the only mother doesn't have pictures of her kids. You need to get some pictures.
Me: Mmmm.
Checker: How old your baby is?
ME (trying to deflect): I have twins.
Checker: Really? Boys? Girls?
ME (hoping like hell she'll hurry up): One of each.
Checker (returning to the earlier question): So how old?
ME: Young.
Checker: Young, huh? They young? How young?
Shut up shut up SHUTUP WHY CAN'T YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!
I wonder, at this point, if I should've just lied & said 6 months old or something.
I always wonder, when it gets to that point. But then I wonder what MORE questions will come up.
And then I get pissed because I canNOT believe that people, who in all likelyhood are just trying to be friendly, WILL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE, cannot read my body language.
I have tried lying. I have tried evading. I have tried just telling it like it is up front. I've tried saying that I prefer not to discuss it.
I don't know why it STILL gets to me, I don't know how to stop it.
Can someone please tell me what to say? Because I don't know what to say.
Next time I go anywhere other than my familiar little Buy For Less two blocks away, I'm pretending to be mute. That's the only thing I can come up with.
And then? I took a shower.
Wondered when was the last time I shaved under my arms. Couldn't remember.
Decided I was too afraid to look.
It's Thursday now, and I'm totally traumatized.
So I think I'll pass on seconds of the shit sandwich. I'm all full up.
Full up to here.
Love,
Me
Sometimes when I talk to myself out loud, I use accents.
Hey, don't act like you've never done it.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
My final wishes
So, my uncle's funeral was yesterday--it was...what? Nice? Lovely? Okay.
Funerals are for us-the living-and I never really know what sort of adjective to apply.
But it was nice to see family members (the circumstances sucked, but you know, after awhile there are some parts of the family that you only see at weddings and funerals)...to be reunited with old playmates that one hasn't seen for 25 years...to resurrect old memories, tell the stories, share the laughter and the tears...
But I sat there, not even with the family, I sat in there in the very back row near the door because I've had experience, you see, with this sort of thing.
My son, God love him, has no volume control, and he do love to make some noise, some verbalization, with a special affinity for preachers.
He did it at my great-grandma's funeral too--but there I was in my own little church with my own minister and it was cause for laughter all around...my preacher-man just said "Hey, I LOVE competition!"
But this guy, this minister that hardly knew my uncle...well, I could see The Look--not just from him, but a few of the mourners who were my uncle's contemporaries, people whom I didn't know and who didn't know me.
Oh, I know, I should have said "PISH POSH!" and let my guy just verbalize and not be embarrassed and all that. These things I know. I know.
But knowing doesn't stop my face from turning red when heads turn.
I shouldn't care. I'm NOT embarrassed for my son...not for me either, really...but for THEM. I go out of my way to put people at ease, because I know that many folks are uncomfortable around people-kids or adults, even-with disabilities.
Fact of life.
I'm okay with it. I was probably like that myself at one time, so I won't judge THEM for it.
But I'm getting far away from where I was going. This wasn't to be about how I felt or my son or even the rubber-necking mourners.
It's about my final wishes.
See, as I listened to this minister go ON and ON and ON...even after he himself told us that he promised my uncle to be brief...this man who hardly knew my uncle at all just kept going...
When my boy got loud, I eventually slipped out the back door and he and I sat in the lobby and listened to what was going on in the chapel...and naturally, my mind drifted away to thoughts of my uncle, then thoughts of funerals, and before I knew it I was composing this post.
I don't think Uncle Kenneth would have minded.
Sitting there, I made a few decisions as to what my funeral would entail and I am hereby publicly posting them and MY WISHES WILL BE ADHERED TO. Because don't think I won't know if you screw it up and THEN you'll be sorry.
1. I said to Jeckles the night before the funeral that my uppermost thought was "I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR!!"
I wonder how many other people had to go buy some funeral-type clothes like I did--I mean, for me it was either going to have to be jeans or sweatpants and I knew my mother would frown at me alot.
So for my funeral, I want it to be COME AS YOU ARE. Flip-flops, shorts, tee shirts, jeans, sweats, whatever. DO NOT BUY NEW CLOTHES. You can wear black if that's what you've got, but if you show up in acid green or screamin' red I'll be ever so happy.
2. The minister? 10 MINUTES MAX. That's it. Not one single second longer. Seriously, 10 minutes is way more than enough for a prayer and a scripture verse and a couple o' Monty stories saying how groovy I was. In fact, I want someone to have a stopwatch and stand up and yell "TIME!"
3. While the minister is speaking, I want Amazing Grace in the background. I LOOOVE that song, and it has a lot of special meanings for me. After the 10 minute ministry...well, I'm making an awesome mixed CD and I want that played in the background. The Guess Who, John Lee Hooker, Peter Gabriel, Bon Jovi, Janis Joplin, Paul McCartney...oh, all my favorite songs.
4. While my groovin' cd is playing, everyone needs to just sit around in a circle and tell Monty stories. As a tribute to me, people should interrupt each other and talk over each other and generally be loud and obnoxious, much like me.
5. People should bring their kids, if they want to. Or if, like me, they HAVE to if they want to attend. If the kids are noisy, that's okay. Except if you have spoiled little ill-behaved bratty kids who control the parents rather than the other way around. Because them I don't like--and the parents of kids like that need a slap upside the head.
6. I want to start a new game called "Dirty Casket". It will be played like the classic "Dirty Santa" game, you know, where you can steal someone else's if you want and everything gets mixed all around.
So instead of flowers (I mean hell, none of us will really get to enjoy the flowers, really, except to look at them for a half-hour or so)...bring PRESENTS.
7. And really? There should be party favors. Like the little plastic caskets & skeletons you find at Halloween. I want those put in little bags with candy & stuff. What the hell, it's a party, right?
And that, my friends, is the perfect funeral. No solemnity, no hushed & whispery voices, plenty of loud, raucous laughter to mix with the tears. Most excellent music (and dancing, if you want). Plus PRESENTS and CANDY.
That's what I want.
And I damn well better get it.
OR someone's ass is gonna get the worst haunting ever.
I will haunt them in ways that the Hollywood movie people haven't even thunk up yet.
I'm not even kidding.
Funerals are for us-the living-and I never really know what sort of adjective to apply.
But it was nice to see family members (the circumstances sucked, but you know, after awhile there are some parts of the family that you only see at weddings and funerals)...to be reunited with old playmates that one hasn't seen for 25 years...to resurrect old memories, tell the stories, share the laughter and the tears...
But I sat there, not even with the family, I sat in there in the very back row near the door because I've had experience, you see, with this sort of thing.
My son, God love him, has no volume control, and he do love to make some noise, some verbalization, with a special affinity for preachers.
He did it at my great-grandma's funeral too--but there I was in my own little church with my own minister and it was cause for laughter all around...my preacher-man just said "Hey, I LOVE competition!"
But this guy, this minister that hardly knew my uncle...well, I could see The Look--not just from him, but a few of the mourners who were my uncle's contemporaries, people whom I didn't know and who didn't know me.
Oh, I know, I should have said "PISH POSH!" and let my guy just verbalize and not be embarrassed and all that. These things I know. I know.
But knowing doesn't stop my face from turning red when heads turn.
I shouldn't care. I'm NOT embarrassed for my son...not for me either, really...but for THEM. I go out of my way to put people at ease, because I know that many folks are uncomfortable around people-kids or adults, even-with disabilities.
Fact of life.
I'm okay with it. I was probably like that myself at one time, so I won't judge THEM for it.
But I'm getting far away from where I was going. This wasn't to be about how I felt or my son or even the rubber-necking mourners.
It's about my final wishes.
See, as I listened to this minister go ON and ON and ON...even after he himself told us that he promised my uncle to be brief...this man who hardly knew my uncle at all just kept going...
When my boy got loud, I eventually slipped out the back door and he and I sat in the lobby and listened to what was going on in the chapel...and naturally, my mind drifted away to thoughts of my uncle, then thoughts of funerals, and before I knew it I was composing this post.
I don't think Uncle Kenneth would have minded.
Sitting there, I made a few decisions as to what my funeral would entail and I am hereby publicly posting them and MY WISHES WILL BE ADHERED TO. Because don't think I won't know if you screw it up and THEN you'll be sorry.
1. I said to Jeckles the night before the funeral that my uppermost thought was "I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR!!"
I wonder how many other people had to go buy some funeral-type clothes like I did--I mean, for me it was either going to have to be jeans or sweatpants and I knew my mother would frown at me alot.
So for my funeral, I want it to be COME AS YOU ARE. Flip-flops, shorts, tee shirts, jeans, sweats, whatever. DO NOT BUY NEW CLOTHES. You can wear black if that's what you've got, but if you show up in acid green or screamin' red I'll be ever so happy.
2. The minister? 10 MINUTES MAX. That's it. Not one single second longer. Seriously, 10 minutes is way more than enough for a prayer and a scripture verse and a couple o' Monty stories saying how groovy I was. In fact, I want someone to have a stopwatch and stand up and yell "TIME!"
3. While the minister is speaking, I want Amazing Grace in the background. I LOOOVE that song, and it has a lot of special meanings for me. After the 10 minute ministry...well, I'm making an awesome mixed CD and I want that played in the background. The Guess Who, John Lee Hooker, Peter Gabriel, Bon Jovi, Janis Joplin, Paul McCartney...oh, all my favorite songs.
4. While my groovin' cd is playing, everyone needs to just sit around in a circle and tell Monty stories. As a tribute to me, people should interrupt each other and talk over each other and generally be loud and obnoxious, much like me.
5. People should bring their kids, if they want to. Or if, like me, they HAVE to if they want to attend. If the kids are noisy, that's okay. Except if you have spoiled little ill-behaved bratty kids who control the parents rather than the other way around. Because them I don't like--and the parents of kids like that need a slap upside the head.
6. I want to start a new game called "Dirty Casket". It will be played like the classic "Dirty Santa" game, you know, where you can steal someone else's if you want and everything gets mixed all around.
So instead of flowers (I mean hell, none of us will really get to enjoy the flowers, really, except to look at them for a half-hour or so)...bring PRESENTS.
7. And really? There should be party favors. Like the little plastic caskets & skeletons you find at Halloween. I want those put in little bags with candy & stuff. What the hell, it's a party, right?
And that, my friends, is the perfect funeral. No solemnity, no hushed & whispery voices, plenty of loud, raucous laughter to mix with the tears. Most excellent music (and dancing, if you want). Plus PRESENTS and CANDY.
That's what I want.
And I damn well better get it.
OR someone's ass is gonna get the worst haunting ever.
I will haunt them in ways that the Hollywood movie people haven't even thunk up yet.
I'm not even kidding.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Just some stuff
Random Confession #1: Paul Shaffer and his pointed little gremlin teeth scare me.
Random Confession #2: Some days I feel like a matte lipstick in a world full of glosses.
Did you ever feel a hair tickle your bare arm and then you look down to pluck the hair off and find that it wasn't a hair at all...
...it was a big, hairy SPIDER?!?.
I was just wondering. Is all.
Don't forget to...you know.
Click here to get your own player.
Random Confession #2: Some days I feel like a matte lipstick in a world full of glosses.
Did you ever feel a hair tickle your bare arm and then you look down to pluck the hair off and find that it wasn't a hair at all...
...it was a big, hairy SPIDER?!?.
I was just wondering. Is all.
Don't forget to...you know.
Click here to get your own player.
Friday, January 19, 2007
My Friends.
That's the thing about death; for the rest of us, Obladi Oblada, life goes on.
*sigh*
Though the words themselves are sadly inadequate, I have to tell you all THANK YOU very, very much for your kind words, warm emails, and condolence cards.
Like Sara McLachlan says, your love is better than ice cream.
And if you had any inkling how much I really, really love ice cream...well, you get the picture.
Thanks.
I love you too.
and now the portion of the program where I become completely, utterly selfish and bitchy:
Dear Friend,
You know how you always go on about how caring you are...you say that sometimes you care too much. You say how you're always so giving, sometimes too much.
Then why is it, friend, that whenever I really need for you to come through for me, I have to prompt you? You know how I dislike asking for help or being needy--so it's doubly distasteful for me.
I'll bet a hundred bucks that if I had a penis, you'd never ever make me ask, even obliquely, for help.
And I really hate to be the one to break it to you (okay, I'm lying. I DON'T hate it--in my current mood I'm actually a tad gleeful about it)...but that guy you always make such a big to-do about? Much like you, he likes to drive a stick.
If you know what I mean.
Have a great day.
Love,
Me
Dear Other Friend,
The above letter was not directed at you, in case you were wondering.
And I know that you were.
:)
Have a great day.
Love,
Me
Man, I'm such a bitch.
*sigh*
Though the words themselves are sadly inadequate, I have to tell you all THANK YOU very, very much for your kind words, warm emails, and condolence cards.
Like Sara McLachlan says, your love is better than ice cream.
And if you had any inkling how much I really, really love ice cream...well, you get the picture.
Thanks.
I love you too.
and now the portion of the program where I become completely, utterly selfish and bitchy:
Dear Friend,
You know how you always go on about how caring you are...you say that sometimes you care too much. You say how you're always so giving, sometimes too much.
Then why is it, friend, that whenever I really need for you to come through for me, I have to prompt you? You know how I dislike asking for help or being needy--so it's doubly distasteful for me.
I'll bet a hundred bucks that if I had a penis, you'd never ever make me ask, even obliquely, for help.
And I really hate to be the one to break it to you (okay, I'm lying. I DON'T hate it--in my current mood I'm actually a tad gleeful about it)...but that guy you always make such a big to-do about? Much like you, he likes to drive a stick.
If you know what I mean.
Have a great day.
Love,
Me
Dear Other Friend,
The above letter was not directed at you, in case you were wondering.
And I know that you were.
:)
Have a great day.
Love,
Me
Man, I'm such a bitch.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Remembrance
Did you know? I spent most of my growing-up years in a tiny town about 18 miles east of Edmond, OK. For a large part of that time, we lived outside of town on about 20 acres of land.
Two houses about a football field length apart, separated by a hog pen, a chicken coop, and the "Skunk Shed"(a skunk sprayed in there once, the scent lingered for years). My dad's brother's family lived in one house: my Uncle Kenneth, Aunt Dona, and cousins Diane and Paul. My family lived in the other.
Time spent in one house was the same as time spent in another-in and out, summer and winter, with the nearest (non-family) neighbor about a half-mile away.
A small creek (or "crick", as we called it) ran behind the houses-just right for splashing hot, dusty feet on a hot, dusty day. It was small enough to straddle at certain points, and we would stand as still as statues, dangling our fingers in the water in hopes that a curious crawdad would poke its head out so that we could grab it and chase each other around with it.
I loved this summertime activity, until a water moccasin swam up between where my feet were planted, just as casual as you please.
I screamed. I almost walked on the water. I know I jumped three feet in the air.
We had to watch out for those cottonmouths and copperheads, but mostly we ran tame, riding our bikes up and down the hardtop road, playing touch football, barefoot, in the chicken yard with the neighbor boys. About half of our acreage was wooded, so we would explore the dark, verdant woods, carrying sack lunches because we had found a huge flat-top red rock that came to be known as "Picnic Rock". When you stood on top of the rock, you could see halfway into town. We would climb trees and sit quietly (as quietly as kids can, anyway), waiting to see the rabbits, squirrels, and the occasional armadillo. We were adventurers, big game hunters, explorers.
My aunt Dona is the type that knows how to can veggies, make preserves & jams, and homemade ice-cream. I loved the summertime, so I could help crank out the ice cream.
Uncle Kenneth taught me to drive the little tractor--as the eldest of the children, it was my God-given right to be in the driver's seat.
I would drive the little tractor over the wood-slat bridge that spanned our little creek, heading toward the acre or so of vegetable garden, where we would plant the seeds or pick the fruits of our labors, depending on the season.
Corn, okra, peas, carrots, onions, snap beans, tomatoes...yum. Hard work, but well worth it (or so I think now--I can't imagine that I thought that when I was 10 or 12 or even 14 years old).
Oh, Uncle Kenneth, the character. He was born on April 1 and always said that he was an April Fool and a Monkey's Uncle (the monkey being me, of course). I remember one time I went into his house and he asked me if I wanted a pop. Well, of course I did!
So he came back into the living room with a little whiffle-ball bat and smacked me (lightly!) on the legs and butt, whilst I was giggling madly and screaming, "NO! Not THAT kind of pop!"
Then he said how about a cold pop, and my little girl brain couldn't find any trick with that question, so I said yes once again.
Uncle Kenneth took the bat, held it in front of the window unit air conditioner, and then came back with an evil grin and said, "Well, YOU'RE the one who asked for a cold pop!"
I know, it's silly. But to a little girl it was great fun.
One year we had a big tall stand of grass that covered a couple-three acres, so Uncle Kenneth drove the little tractor over and made us a maze. The grass was taller than we children were, so it was great fun (and so mysterious! and a little scary!) to hide out in the maze, to try to find each other, or just have a quiet, peaceful moment of 'thinking time'.
Uncle Kenneth was also the resident "Tick-puller". Back then getting ticks in your head was a common occurence, and Uncle Kenneth would light up his cigarette and get it close my head and inhale, making the tick back out with the heat. Then Aunt Dona would dab it with alcohol, and then we would all have a look at the tick, say "EEEW, GROSS!" a few times, and then send the tick off with a royal flush of the toilet.
Oh stop it, ticks weren't as big a worry back then, and you stuck with what worked for the removal. :)
Nowadays my cousin Diane has a daughter a couple of years younger than my own daughter, and Uncle Kenneth and Aunt Dona would take both girls for a few days, a week, whatever, during the summers. They would do chores, and play little-girl games, and follow Uncle Kenneth around asking all sorts of questions about all sorts of things.
My daughter always had an utter blast, and so did her cousin.
Those were certainly the days.
That's where I learned the value of hard work, how to be responsible, how to stand on my own feet.
Between my family and Uncle Kenneth and his family, we kids all learned those lessons.
My Uncle Kenneth died at 5 o'clock this morning.
Oh dear God, I miss him so.
Two houses about a football field length apart, separated by a hog pen, a chicken coop, and the "Skunk Shed"(a skunk sprayed in there once, the scent lingered for years). My dad's brother's family lived in one house: my Uncle Kenneth, Aunt Dona, and cousins Diane and Paul. My family lived in the other.
Time spent in one house was the same as time spent in another-in and out, summer and winter, with the nearest (non-family) neighbor about a half-mile away.
A small creek (or "crick", as we called it) ran behind the houses-just right for splashing hot, dusty feet on a hot, dusty day. It was small enough to straddle at certain points, and we would stand as still as statues, dangling our fingers in the water in hopes that a curious crawdad would poke its head out so that we could grab it and chase each other around with it.
I loved this summertime activity, until a water moccasin swam up between where my feet were planted, just as casual as you please.
I screamed. I almost walked on the water. I know I jumped three feet in the air.
We had to watch out for those cottonmouths and copperheads, but mostly we ran tame, riding our bikes up and down the hardtop road, playing touch football, barefoot, in the chicken yard with the neighbor boys. About half of our acreage was wooded, so we would explore the dark, verdant woods, carrying sack lunches because we had found a huge flat-top red rock that came to be known as "Picnic Rock". When you stood on top of the rock, you could see halfway into town. We would climb trees and sit quietly (as quietly as kids can, anyway), waiting to see the rabbits, squirrels, and the occasional armadillo. We were adventurers, big game hunters, explorers.
My aunt Dona is the type that knows how to can veggies, make preserves & jams, and homemade ice-cream. I loved the summertime, so I could help crank out the ice cream.
Uncle Kenneth taught me to drive the little tractor--as the eldest of the children, it was my God-given right to be in the driver's seat.
I would drive the little tractor over the wood-slat bridge that spanned our little creek, heading toward the acre or so of vegetable garden, where we would plant the seeds or pick the fruits of our labors, depending on the season.
Corn, okra, peas, carrots, onions, snap beans, tomatoes...yum. Hard work, but well worth it (or so I think now--I can't imagine that I thought that when I was 10 or 12 or even 14 years old).
Oh, Uncle Kenneth, the character. He was born on April 1 and always said that he was an April Fool and a Monkey's Uncle (the monkey being me, of course). I remember one time I went into his house and he asked me if I wanted a pop. Well, of course I did!
So he came back into the living room with a little whiffle-ball bat and smacked me (lightly!) on the legs and butt, whilst I was giggling madly and screaming, "NO! Not THAT kind of pop!"
Then he said how about a cold pop, and my little girl brain couldn't find any trick with that question, so I said yes once again.
Uncle Kenneth took the bat, held it in front of the window unit air conditioner, and then came back with an evil grin and said, "Well, YOU'RE the one who asked for a cold pop!"
I know, it's silly. But to a little girl it was great fun.
One year we had a big tall stand of grass that covered a couple-three acres, so Uncle Kenneth drove the little tractor over and made us a maze. The grass was taller than we children were, so it was great fun (and so mysterious! and a little scary!) to hide out in the maze, to try to find each other, or just have a quiet, peaceful moment of 'thinking time'.
Uncle Kenneth was also the resident "Tick-puller". Back then getting ticks in your head was a common occurence, and Uncle Kenneth would light up his cigarette and get it close my head and inhale, making the tick back out with the heat. Then Aunt Dona would dab it with alcohol, and then we would all have a look at the tick, say "EEEW, GROSS!" a few times, and then send the tick off with a royal flush of the toilet.
Oh stop it, ticks weren't as big a worry back then, and you stuck with what worked for the removal. :)
Nowadays my cousin Diane has a daughter a couple of years younger than my own daughter, and Uncle Kenneth and Aunt Dona would take both girls for a few days, a week, whatever, during the summers. They would do chores, and play little-girl games, and follow Uncle Kenneth around asking all sorts of questions about all sorts of things.
My daughter always had an utter blast, and so did her cousin.
Those were certainly the days.
That's where I learned the value of hard work, how to be responsible, how to stand on my own feet.
Between my family and Uncle Kenneth and his family, we kids all learned those lessons.
My Uncle Kenneth died at 5 o'clock this morning.
Oh dear God, I miss him so.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Food For Thought. Without the actual food.
Random Confession: Sometimes late at night, when the kids are asleep and my work is done....
...I sneak out my daughter's GameBoy and play Pokèmon.
Hello, my name is Monty, and I'm a Pokèmon addict.
MommaK has a post up that ends with two questions:
"Is there a part of your life that you purposely keep a secret because you are ashamed of it?
Are you completely honest about who you are on your blog?"
As to the first, I have to admit that there is a chunk of my life that I keep a secret from just about everyone, not because I think you won't like me anymore, but because it still causes my cheeks to flame with embarrassment and shame.
When those memories try to intrude, I have to tell myself not to think of a Big Purple Elephant. With polka-dots.
Because you know that as soon as you try NOT to think of something, that something squeezes all other thoughts out of your head.
As to the second...well, I think I'm pretty honest about myself, here.
Just as in "real-life", I make smart remarks, I am frequently outspoken, I speak (or more accurately, type) before I think, I try to always be truthful, I often phrase things in the wrong way so that they come out completely different than I intended and are misunderstood, I am very emotional, and tend to crack wise to change the subject if said subject makes me uncomfortable.
But I'm not very objective.
What do you think?
Some of you listen to my radio show. Some of us chat on the phone. Some of you have been lucky(?) enough to meet me in person--I think Jules wins the prize on that one, as she has ever so kindly taken me in as a lodger on several weekends.
Would you say that my in-person self is pretty close to what is represented here, in this blog?
Or is this place closer to a split-personality?
Discuss.
...I sneak out my daughter's GameBoy and play Pokèmon.
Hello, my name is Monty, and I'm a Pokèmon addict.
MommaK has a post up that ends with two questions:
Are you completely honest about who you are on your blog?"
As to the first, I have to admit that there is a chunk of my life that I keep a secret from just about everyone, not because I think you won't like me anymore, but because it still causes my cheeks to flame with embarrassment and shame.
When those memories try to intrude, I have to tell myself not to think of a Big Purple Elephant. With polka-dots.
Because you know that as soon as you try NOT to think of something, that something squeezes all other thoughts out of your head.
As to the second...well, I think I'm pretty honest about myself, here.
Just as in "real-life", I make smart remarks, I am frequently outspoken, I speak (or more accurately, type) before I think, I try to always be truthful, I often phrase things in the wrong way so that they come out completely different than I intended and are misunderstood, I am very emotional, and tend to crack wise to change the subject if said subject makes me uncomfortable.
But I'm not very objective.
What do you think?
Some of you listen to my radio show. Some of us chat on the phone. Some of you have been lucky(?) enough to meet me in person--I think Jules wins the prize on that one, as she has ever so kindly taken me in as a lodger on several weekends.
Would you say that my in-person self is pretty close to what is represented here, in this blog?
Or is this place closer to a split-personality?
Discuss.
Monday, January 15, 2007
We Interrupt This Program...
I really, really loathe that Pepto-Bismol Max commercial...you know, where they're going over the symptoms: Heartburn, upset stomach, diarrhea...and they grab each part of their body that correlates with the problem?
Yeah, watching adults turn around and grab their asses whilst they sing about diarrhea is just so classy.
For you that are local to Oklahoma City and surrounding areas...have you seen the Laser Light Skin Clinic commercial? With the lady with the stretched face and 4-inch elongated eyes and wattled, crepey neck?
*shudder*
Would YOU take cosmetic enhancement advice from her?
And WHY would they use her for commercials?
I make an "EEEEEEEEeeeee!" sound every time those commercials appear.
She frightens me.
I am vain and selfish enough to want to be kept alive in memory after I die.
Somebody needs to be in charge of that for me.
I've nearly decided that I might want to get married again...because I'm really tired of taking out the garbage.
And carrying all the groceries in.
Plus batteries are getting way too expensive.
Now, if I could just find somesucker poor fool nice man...
Is all I'm saying.
Oh yeah, and then there's THIS (don't forget to listen to BOTH part ONE and part TWO, or you'll miss half the good stuff):
Click here to get your own player.
That is all.
Have a day.
Yeah, watching adults turn around and grab their asses whilst they sing about diarrhea is just so classy.
For you that are local to Oklahoma City and surrounding areas...have you seen the Laser Light Skin Clinic commercial? With the lady with the stretched face and 4-inch elongated eyes and wattled, crepey neck?
*shudder*
Would YOU take cosmetic enhancement advice from her?
And WHY would they use her for commercials?
I make an "EEEEEEEEeeeee!" sound every time those commercials appear.
She frightens me.
I am vain and selfish enough to want to be kept alive in memory after I die.
Somebody needs to be in charge of that for me.
I've nearly decided that I might want to get married again...because I'm really tired of taking out the garbage.
And carrying all the groceries in.
Plus batteries are getting way too expensive.
Now, if I could just find some
Is all I'm saying.
Oh yeah, and then there's THIS (don't forget to listen to BOTH part ONE and part TWO, or you'll miss half the good stuff):
Click here to get your own player.
That is all.
Have a day.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Swimming With Sharks
Random Quote: "If you're swimming with sharks and you start to bleed...probably you should get out of the water."
Is all I'm saying.
Whenever I watch particular episodes of Nature and Nova on PBS, I sincerely wish I'd have chosen a career in marine biology.
Though living in OkieLand, that may have been a little difficult.
Sometimes I yearn to live on a houseboat, with the waves rocking me to sleep every night.
Speaking of which...
I have seriously bizarre dreams from time to time. Like every other night. Or so.
LAST night was one of the top five all-time mondo bizarro ones.
So, in the dream I was twins (slender, long-legged, and evidently a great swimmer).
There was this big, muddy, brown...lake? pond? tiny ocean? that we had to swim across just to get anywhere.
Hang on, that's not the weird part.
Or even the weirdEST part.
I'm swimming across the *body of water of whatever sort* and I hear me/my twin call out, "FINN!!"
Then I looked out ahead of me and saw a shark pushing (yes, PUSHING) off from the far shore and coming toward us. Evidently I knew that Finn was a good shark (and see how his name is FINN? Don't ask how I know it's spelled with two Ns, I just do), and he was coming to stave off any trouble. See, there was a bad shark named Carl that harrassed us (well, tried to eat us, whatever) every time we swam across.
There was also a bad octopus named Gordo that was in league with Carl.
My sister was ALWAYS the one to call for Finn's help, never me. I turned to her (in the water) and called out, "Is it Carl? Or Gordo? Are you okay?"--I was peering through the murky water to try & see one of them, and was feeling a little scared-- and then I swam with a gorgeous breast stroke (not a single bit out of breath, even!) and Finn nudged me along the last couple-hundred feet to the shore before going after me/my twin.
Then I had to turn back a page in the book because I felt like I'd missed something.
So I was READING the book, and I was IN the book, which wasn't a book at all when I was IN it.
TWO THINGS: I don't even know how to do the breast-stroke, and I don't know anyone named either Carl (or Karl, for that matter) or Gordo.
Anyone want to try to decipher THAT????
Me neither.
No, I didn't watch any programs or read any books about sharks recently (except for SHARK--that show about the lawyers with James Woods, but that was last Thursday). I didn't eat any weird and/or spicy food before going to bed.
I did not have any alcoholic beverages.
Could be I'm just losing it. That actually sounds pretty reasonable.
Randomness for random's sake:
Five musicals to which I know most of (if not ALL) the songs by heart:
1. The Sound Of Music
2. Buffy, The Musical (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)
3. Seven Brides For Seven Brothers
4. Grease (the original, not the crappy sequel)
5. State Fair
Oh yes, there are MORE...lots more...
Is all I'm saying.
Whenever I watch particular episodes of Nature and Nova on PBS, I sincerely wish I'd have chosen a career in marine biology.
Though living in OkieLand, that may have been a little difficult.
Sometimes I yearn to live on a houseboat, with the waves rocking me to sleep every night.
Speaking of which...
I have seriously bizarre dreams from time to time. Like every other night. Or so.
LAST night was one of the top five all-time mondo bizarro ones.
So, in the dream I was twins (slender, long-legged, and evidently a great swimmer).
There was this big, muddy, brown...lake? pond? tiny ocean? that we had to swim across just to get anywhere.
Hang on, that's not the weird part.
Or even the weirdEST part.
I'm swimming across the *body of water of whatever sort* and I hear me/my twin call out, "FINN!!"
Then I looked out ahead of me and saw a shark pushing (yes, PUSHING) off from the far shore and coming toward us. Evidently I knew that Finn was a good shark (and see how his name is FINN? Don't ask how I know it's spelled with two Ns, I just do), and he was coming to stave off any trouble. See, there was a bad shark named Carl that harrassed us (well, tried to eat us, whatever) every time we swam across.
There was also a bad octopus named Gordo that was in league with Carl.
My sister was ALWAYS the one to call for Finn's help, never me. I turned to her (in the water) and called out, "Is it Carl? Or Gordo? Are you okay?"--I was peering through the murky water to try & see one of them, and was feeling a little scared-- and then I swam with a gorgeous breast stroke (not a single bit out of breath, even!) and Finn nudged me along the last couple-hundred feet to the shore before going after me/my twin.
Then I had to turn back a page in the book because I felt like I'd missed something.
So I was READING the book, and I was IN the book, which wasn't a book at all when I was IN it.
TWO THINGS: I don't even know how to do the breast-stroke, and I don't know anyone named either Carl (or Karl, for that matter) or Gordo.
Anyone want to try to decipher THAT????
Me neither.
No, I didn't watch any programs or read any books about sharks recently (except for SHARK--that show about the lawyers with James Woods, but that was last Thursday). I didn't eat any weird and/or spicy food before going to bed.
I did not have any alcoholic beverages.
Could be I'm just losing it. That actually sounds pretty reasonable.
Randomness for random's sake:
Five musicals to which I know most of (if not ALL) the songs by heart:
1. The Sound Of Music
2. Buffy, The Musical (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)
3. Seven Brides For Seven Brothers
4. Grease (the original, not the crappy sequel)
5. State Fair
Oh yes, there are MORE...lots more...
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Boring is as boring does.
Random quote: "The world is my oyster; unfortunately, I'm allergic to shellfish." ~~me
WINTER BREAK IS OVER.
Thank the sweet little baby Jesus.
My kids went back to school today...so I turned the music to the "Eardrum Shattering" setting, danced around the house, and sang at the top of my lungs for a good long while.
Random trivia:
Did you know that oil alongside of your nose is called squalene? And did you further know that squalene is also found inside shark's livers? And did you know that if you rub your finger on your face squalene, it makes excellent lip balm?
Just in case you were wondering.
Five weird things about me that you couldn't care less about:
1. I sleep with the covers pulled over my head, with only a small circular opening for my face. Ever since Nancy got that moth in her ear that time, I'm struck by a paranoid fear that a spider will crawl in my ear whilst I'm asleep.
2. I like to say the word "quash". Perhaps too frequently.
3. I know what squalene is.
4. Milk, on the Sell By date, might as well be sour because I'm throwing it out. Okay, I'm lying. I tend to throw it out a couple of days (or so) early.
5. After I brush my teeth and rinse, I make a growly noise into the towel when I'm drying my mouth.
Oh yeah, in case you missed my Block Party on Sunday...you can listen now:
Click here to get your own player.
That is all. (and isn't it quite enough, for crap's sake?)
Have a day.
WINTER BREAK IS OVER.
Thank the sweet little baby Jesus.
My kids went back to school today...so I turned the music to the "Eardrum Shattering" setting, danced around the house, and sang at the top of my lungs for a good long while.
Random trivia:
Did you know that oil alongside of your nose is called squalene? And did you further know that squalene is also found inside shark's livers? And did you know that if you rub your finger on your face squalene, it makes excellent lip balm?
Just in case you were wondering.
Five weird things about me that you couldn't care less about:
1. I sleep with the covers pulled over my head, with only a small circular opening for my face. Ever since Nancy got that moth in her ear that time, I'm struck by a paranoid fear that a spider will crawl in my ear whilst I'm asleep.
2. I like to say the word "quash". Perhaps too frequently.
3. I know what squalene is.
4. Milk, on the Sell By date, might as well be sour because I'm throwing it out. Okay, I'm lying. I tend to throw it out a couple of days (or so) early.
5. After I brush my teeth and rinse, I make a growly noise into the towel when I'm drying my mouth.
Oh yeah, in case you missed my Block Party on Sunday...you can listen now:
Click here to get your own player.
That is all. (and isn't it quite enough, for crap's sake?)
Have a day.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
You've obviously forgotten what time it is.
MONTY DOES MOJO: We're having a Block Party!
LISTEN HERE, NOW.
PLUS:
Horoscopes!
Mail bag!
WORST GIFT CONTEST!
and
Special dedication to my favorite newlyweds!
LISTEN HERE, TOMORROW.
Tune it in. TURN IT UP.
Friday, January 05, 2007
You guys are pretty smart.
Random movie quote: "Beef jerky time."
Thanks to all yousmarty-pants smart folks who commented yesterday and answered my questions.
I do want to make clear, and I hope you understand, that there was nothing mocking, skeptical or negative meant in what I said.
That number, ONE in ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-SIX, keeps circling round and round in my brain, and makes my heart ache for those children, and their families.
And your children, and your families.
I had no idea the scope--or as Brian put it, the CONTINUUM--of autism.
The reason I asked the questions is because I was curious, and I wanted to hear from you, who live it, experience it, rather than reading statistics.
So I appreciate the time and the thought you gave to help me understand.
And believe me, I know that ADHD/ADD are also serious conditions, but I also know that it has been used as a convenient label. My daughter, due to excessive bleeding in her head at birth, has some parts of her brain that...don't function exactly as they should. She's smart, but a little backward in some ways.
She can read for hours, she can concentrate on tasks for very long periods of time, she's patient (mostly)...but she's easily frustrated in school, especially trying to figure out logic problems, word problems, and math in any form.
When she gets stuck, she simply chooses to daydream or look out the window or around the room instead of doing the work.
For that reason, her teachers, every.single.one, have implied that she's ADD.
She's not.
Even the doctors agree, but we have to keep proving it to the teachers in her school.
She sometimes mutters to herself under her breath (as do I, in fact), and she used to make noises in class when she was a bit younger.
Then her teachers tried to insist that she had Tourette's Syndrome.
She doesn't.
Even the doctors agree.
Anyway.
That's why I was wondering.
So thanks. :)
Thanks to all you
I do want to make clear, and I hope you understand, that there was nothing mocking, skeptical or negative meant in what I said.
That number, ONE in ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-SIX, keeps circling round and round in my brain, and makes my heart ache for those children, and their families.
And your children, and your families.
I had no idea the scope--or as Brian put it, the CONTINUUM--of autism.
The reason I asked the questions is because I was curious, and I wanted to hear from you, who live it, experience it, rather than reading statistics.
So I appreciate the time and the thought you gave to help me understand.
And believe me, I know that ADHD/ADD are also serious conditions, but I also know that it has been used as a convenient label. My daughter, due to excessive bleeding in her head at birth, has some parts of her brain that...don't function exactly as they should. She's smart, but a little backward in some ways.
She can read for hours, she can concentrate on tasks for very long periods of time, she's patient (mostly)...but she's easily frustrated in school, especially trying to figure out logic problems, word problems, and math in any form.
When she gets stuck, she simply chooses to daydream or look out the window or around the room instead of doing the work.
For that reason, her teachers, every.single.one, have implied that she's ADD.
She's not.
Even the doctors agree, but we have to keep proving it to the teachers in her school.
She sometimes mutters to herself under her breath (as do I, in fact), and she used to make noises in class when she was a bit younger.
Then her teachers tried to insist that she had Tourette's Syndrome.
She doesn't.
Even the doctors agree.
Anyway.
That's why I was wondering.
So thanks. :)
Thursday, January 04, 2007
News To Me
So, I was listening to the radio on the way to work this morning, and a commercial came on and it said that 1 in 166 children are diagnosed with autism in its various forms.
I can't even believe it. My gast was completely flabbered. HOW is that even possible? ONE in ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-SIX. Period.
Seems to me that autism used to be a fairly 'rare' occurence, and it was always pretty severe when you did hear about it.
ONE in ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-SIX. Children.
Wow.
I can't wrap my brain around that.
I know that quite a number of you handle the issues of varying degrees of autism every single day, so what I'm wondering is this:
How is it possible that, up until recently, the signs of autism were overlooked?
Or has it always been this number, only nobody used to talk about it?
Or is the 'measuring stick' in determining whether or not a child is autistic in some way improperly calibrated? Perhaps the "norm" is skewed?
Or is it simply being used more often as one of those 'excuse' diagnoses--you know, like when they have a normal, very energetic kid that is slapped with the ol' ADHD label because Mommy & Daddy don't like disruption in their pretty little lives? Not to mention the fact that Mommy & Daddy feed the kid sugar in all its forms and let him/her stay inside watching TV & video games instead of riding bikes and playing Two-Below football, cupball, and exploring the great outdoors. But that's a-whole-nother rant for another day.
Forgive me, I don't mean to imply one bit that autism isn't a serious issue--I only ask the questions out of ignorance.
What's your take? Educate me.
in other news...
Don't forget to nominate your favorites for The 2007 Bloggies!
I've entered my personal choices...have YOU?
This thought just now popped into my head and made me laugh because it was so stupid:
Geek's Country & Western Song: "She Thinks My Protractor's Sexy"
You don't have to laugh. It's okay. I'm just easily amused and...simple. Yes, simple, that's it.
I can't even believe it. My gast was completely flabbered. HOW is that even possible? ONE in ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-SIX. Period.
Seems to me that autism used to be a fairly 'rare' occurence, and it was always pretty severe when you did hear about it.
ONE in ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-SIX. Children.
Wow.
I can't wrap my brain around that.
I know that quite a number of you handle the issues of varying degrees of autism every single day, so what I'm wondering is this:
How is it possible that, up until recently, the signs of autism were overlooked?
Or has it always been this number, only nobody used to talk about it?
Or is the 'measuring stick' in determining whether or not a child is autistic in some way improperly calibrated? Perhaps the "norm" is skewed?
Or is it simply being used more often as one of those 'excuse' diagnoses--you know, like when they have a normal, very energetic kid that is slapped with the ol' ADHD label because Mommy & Daddy don't like disruption in their pretty little lives? Not to mention the fact that Mommy & Daddy feed the kid sugar in all its forms and let him/her stay inside watching TV & video games instead of riding bikes and playing Two-Below football, cupball, and exploring the great outdoors. But that's a-whole-nother rant for another day.
Forgive me, I don't mean to imply one bit that autism isn't a serious issue--I only ask the questions out of ignorance.
What's your take? Educate me.
in other news...
Don't forget to nominate your favorites for The 2007 Bloggies!
I've entered my personal choices...have YOU?
This thought just now popped into my head and made me laugh because it was so stupid:
Geek's Country & Western Song: "She Thinks My Protractor's Sexy"
You don't have to laugh. It's okay. I'm just easily amused and...simple. Yes, simple, that's it.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
But why did they cry?
Georgie Porgy, Mr. Puddin' and Pie...was a cowardly perv.
Those other boys should have chased him down & kicked the shit out of him.
in other news...
The 2007 Bloggies
I've put my nominations in...have YOU?
I may have entered you for a category, so go solicit some nominations!
Those other boys should have chased him down & kicked the shit out of him.
in other news...
I've put my nominations in...have YOU?
I may have entered you for a category, so go solicit some nominations!
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
'07, Day Two
I'm much recovered today, thanks for asking.
Now, I offer you a list of...well, not Resolutions, because let's face it--most likely I won't keep them and really? why set myself up for failure?
So without further ado, I give you my
New Year's Suggestions
1. Cut people some slack. Sometimes.
2. Give my house a good spring cleaning. (HAHAHA! I couldn't even type that with a straight face)
3. Try to control my excessive road rage.
4. Leave more comments on your blogs (just as soon as I figure out how to cut a small hole in the time/space continuum so that I canuse my powers for evil re-live a few hours each day visiting you)
5. Drink. More. Booze.
That's as far as I managed to get before I started to work--quite successfully, I might add--on Number Five.
That is all.
Have a day.
Now, I offer you a list of...well, not Resolutions, because let's face it--most likely I won't keep them and really? why set myself up for failure?
So without further ado, I give you my
1. Cut people some slack. Sometimes.
2. Give my house a good spring cleaning. (HAHAHA! I couldn't even type that with a straight face)
3. Try to control my excessive road rage.
4. Leave more comments on your blogs (just as soon as I figure out how to cut a small hole in the time/space continuum so that I can
5. Drink. More. Booze.
That's as far as I managed to get before I started to work--quite successfully, I might add--on Number Five.
That is all.
Have a day.
Monday, January 01, 2007
'07, Day One.
Could someone please turn that damn sun off?
Thanks, that'd be great.
Oh yeah, Happy blah blah blah.
Thanks, that'd be great.
Oh yeah, Happy blah blah blah.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Well shuck my drawers & call me nekkid
HOLY SHIT!
We just had a 2.5 earthquake.
!!!
Yeah, I know, some of you are thinking, "Big deal!"
But this is Oklahoma, for crap's sake. We get tornadoes, not earthquakes.
It made a big boom.
Did you know? Hershey's has Cordial Cherry Kisses.
And did you know? they are the height of gastronomic delight.
Orgasmic.
*shudder*
Don't forget to tune in to my Christmas Eve show on Sunday, 8pm.
There's going to be a new contest.
I got my Christmas cards out a little late.
I'm in hopes they'll arrive before Christmas...but don't hold your breath.
That is all.
We just had a 2.5 earthquake.
!!!
Yeah, I know, some of you are thinking, "Big deal!"
But this is Oklahoma, for crap's sake. We get tornadoes, not earthquakes.
It made a big boom.
Did you know? Hershey's has Cordial Cherry Kisses.
And did you know? they are the height of gastronomic delight.
Orgasmic.
*shudder*
Don't forget to tune in to my Christmas Eve show on Sunday, 8pm.
There's going to be a new contest.
I got my Christmas cards out a little late.
I'm in hopes they'll arrive before Christmas...but don't hold your breath.
That is all.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
!!!!!!!!!!
"Your friendships are the strong, colorful threads that weave the beautiful tapestry of my life." --aka_Monty
Where do I begin?
I begin, I suppose, with a Thank You.
To whom? To ALL OF YOU.
Even though the words "Thank You" are far too small to express what I want to say.
I would say it to each of you individually, but you have stymied me, you wonderful anonymous benefactors.
I was going to go with a whole Sally Field "You like me! You really like me!" thing, but...this is bigger, better, deeper than that.
I went to the mailbox this morning, feeling pretty good, since my boss gave me a little Christmas bonus yesterday and I was busy planning how to spend it, thinking on what little extra thing I could give my children.
I reached into the mailbox and withdrew a card addressed in red ink. No return address.
I didn't think that was unusual, because lots of people don't put a return addy on cards.
I smiled, wondering who it was from, and opened the envelope as I walked across the crunchy leaves in my front yard.
I smiled, reading the card, anticipating the inside, wondering who the card was from.
Then.....
A Gift Card. An extravagantly generous, unexpected, and wonderful Gift Card.
With no names.
I stood on the front porch in disbelief, knees weak, crying, smiling at the sky, thanking you in my heart and my mind. I think my heart grew so big with love for you that it spilled out all over my porch.
I could not speak.
I am undone by your love, your generosity, your caring.
I wish I knew any words big and powerful enough to convey what I felt at just that moment. What I'm still feeling.
YOU.ROCK.MY.WORLD.
And I mean that.
You make me rich beyond my wildest dreams.
In the history of the world, has anyone ever had better friends than I have?
I think not.
My children would thank you if they could, because they're in for a very, very Merry Christmas this year.
Thank you. I love you, each and every one.
OH and PS How in the hell did you manage to keep such a secret from me? :)
OH and PPS Wouldn't you like to reveal yourself to me?
PPPS Please?
Where do I begin?
I begin, I suppose, with a Thank You.
To whom? To ALL OF YOU.
Even though the words "Thank You" are far too small to express what I want to say.
I would say it to each of you individually, but you have stymied me, you wonderful anonymous benefactors.
I was going to go with a whole Sally Field "You like me! You really like me!" thing, but...this is bigger, better, deeper than that.
I went to the mailbox this morning, feeling pretty good, since my boss gave me a little Christmas bonus yesterday and I was busy planning how to spend it, thinking on what little extra thing I could give my children.
I reached into the mailbox and withdrew a card addressed in red ink. No return address.
I didn't think that was unusual, because lots of people don't put a return addy on cards.
I smiled, wondering who it was from, and opened the envelope as I walked across the crunchy leaves in my front yard.
I smiled, reading the card, anticipating the inside, wondering who the card was from.
Then.....
A Gift Card. An extravagantly generous, unexpected, and wonderful Gift Card.
With no names.
I stood on the front porch in disbelief, knees weak, crying, smiling at the sky, thanking you in my heart and my mind. I think my heart grew so big with love for you that it spilled out all over my porch.
I could not speak.
I am undone by your love, your generosity, your caring.
I wish I knew any words big and powerful enough to convey what I felt at just that moment. What I'm still feeling.
YOU.ROCK.MY.WORLD.
And I mean that.
You make me rich beyond my wildest dreams.
In the history of the world, has anyone ever had better friends than I have?
I think not.
My children would thank you if they could, because they're in for a very, very Merry Christmas this year.
Thank you. I love you, each and every one.
OH and PS How in the hell did you manage to keep such a secret from me? :)
OH and PPS Wouldn't you like to reveal yourself to me?
PPPS Please?
Monday, December 18, 2006
Don't be sad if you missed...
...MONTY DOES MOJO--because it is NOW AVAILABLE* for download!
Click here to get your own player.
*For a limited time only **
**Not really. It's ALWAYS available. Just like me.
Click here to get your own player.
*For a limited time only **
**Not really. It's ALWAYS available. Just like me.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
The Debriefing
First things first...
TONIGHT. 8pm Central. 9pm East Coast. 6pm West Coast.
MONTY DOES MOJO--THE HOSTILE TAKEOVER
There was a brief insurrection in the ranks, but I ruthlessly quashed it.
PLUS:
ºA Drinking Game
ºDouble Shots
ºTWO SPECIAL dedications
ºAs always, your weekly HOROSCOPE
You don't want to miss this show.
I appear to have survived The Mission, but I don't mind telling you it was touch and go for a while.
Unfortunately, as I was busy congratulating myself on a job well done, I realized that I had left two names off my list.
Dammit.
Now I have to go back. *gak*
And the wrapping, O! the wrapping.
I'm thinking gift bags. Or paper grocery sacks. Whatever.
Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
Please refrain from answering that last question.
My darling daughter made a pot of coffee this morning, so that it would be ready when I got up. It was more delicious than mine.
She's either The Perfect Child or The Bad Seed.
Only time will tell.
However, I've started calling her Rhoda, just in case.
MONTY DOES MOJO--THE HOSTILE TAKEOVER
There was a brief insurrection in the ranks, but I ruthlessly quashed it.
PLUS:
ºA Drinking Game
ºDouble Shots
ºTWO SPECIAL dedications
ºAs always, your weekly HOROSCOPE
You don't want to miss this show.
I appear to have survived The Mission, but I don't mind telling you it was touch and go for a while.
Unfortunately, as I was busy congratulating myself on a job well done, I realized that I had left two names off my list.
Dammit.
Now I have to go back. *gak*
And the wrapping, O! the wrapping.
I'm thinking gift bags. Or paper grocery sacks. Whatever.
Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
Please refrain from answering that last question.
My darling daughter made a pot of coffee this morning, so that it would be ready when I got up. It was more delicious than mine.
She's either The Perfect Child or The Bad Seed.
Only time will tell.
However, I've started calling her Rhoda, just in case.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Black Op
I am on a mission.
I have a list.
I will take no prisoners.
Yes, I am going Christmas shopping...
All.
In.
One.
Day.
I work better under pressure. Hey, that's how I roll.
Now...wish me luck.
I have a list.
I will take no prisoners.
Yes, I am going Christmas shopping...
All.
In.
One.
Day.
I work better under pressure. Hey, that's how I roll.
Now...wish me luck.
Requiem For A Blog (Or Two)
Friends, we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of THESE TWO blogs.
Their owners, due to some strange malady, perhaps a brain tumor or two, have elected to close up shop.
Their blogs are no more.
They have ceased to be.
Two of the most gifted people I've ever been privileged to "know"...two people who know how to string the words together so well as to make you feel the stories they share...you can touch them, taste them.
Brando's stories were sometimes surreal, yet perfectly understandable. He has the gift of being able to draw you in, make you empathize, feeling layers of emotion. Just self-deprecating enough to bring gentle humor and a sense of poignancy to the writing, without ever sounding like a martyr or a victim.
Brandon, I'm going to miss you something awful.
Then there's Kat. Lordy, I'm going to miss that girl. She's incredibly talented--sharing bits of her life interspersed with the most wonderful stories that frequently brought tears to my eyes...and always, always left me wondering if the stories were true or a creation only of her mind.
It's part of the mystery of Kat, and the blogosphere is going to be a less wonderful place without I Hate Kit Kats.
If you are unfamiliar with either of those blogs, I can only say that it is surely to your detriment.
Now, in order to properly mourn them, we must drink a lot of booze, send drunken, nonsensical emails to people whether we know them or not, and post gloriously brilliant things.
I'm up for everything except perhaps the last.
I'm going to miss you two.
And I'm dedicating some music to you on this week's radio show. You'll like it.
Their owners, due to some strange malady, perhaps a brain tumor or two, have elected to close up shop.
Their blogs are no more.
They have ceased to be.
Two of the most gifted people I've ever been privileged to "know"...two people who know how to string the words together so well as to make you feel the stories they share...you can touch them, taste them.
Brando's stories were sometimes surreal, yet perfectly understandable. He has the gift of being able to draw you in, make you empathize, feeling layers of emotion. Just self-deprecating enough to bring gentle humor and a sense of poignancy to the writing, without ever sounding like a martyr or a victim.
Brandon, I'm going to miss you something awful.
Then there's Kat. Lordy, I'm going to miss that girl. She's incredibly talented--sharing bits of her life interspersed with the most wonderful stories that frequently brought tears to my eyes...and always, always left me wondering if the stories were true or a creation only of her mind.
It's part of the mystery of Kat, and the blogosphere is going to be a less wonderful place without I Hate Kit Kats.
If you are unfamiliar with either of those blogs, I can only say that it is surely to your detriment.
Now, in order to properly mourn them, we must drink a lot of booze, send drunken, nonsensical emails to people whether we know them or not, and post gloriously brilliant things.
I'm up for everything except perhaps the last.
I'm going to miss you two.
And I'm dedicating some music to you on this week's radio show. You'll like it.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
HEY! YOU! Yeah YOU!
So, you missed it.
So, you can download now.
BONUS: NAME THAT SHOW Contest!
(withexciting prizes!)
Click here to get your own player.
Quote o' the Day:
"Never miss a good chance to shut up." --James Patterson
So, you can download now.
BONUS: NAME THAT SHOW Contest!
(with
Click here to get your own player.
Quote o' the Day:
"Never miss a good chance to shut up." --James Patterson
Friday, December 08, 2006
Me Thinks.
As tempting as it (sometimes) is, I never, ever read the end of the book first.
It just seems sort of like...cheating.
Mostly it seems totally disrespectful to the author who labored to craft the story for you (and by YOU I mean ME).
It's the getting there that's the fun part.
If you (and by YOU I mean YOU) authored a book, wouldn't you want someone to be so absorbed in your words that they just kept reading so they could get to the end?
I would.
Maybe Thumper could weigh in here, as a published author of several books (that I do love dearly!).
It really irritates me when people call this
"A YING YANG". It
Seriously.
Annoys.
Me.
And I mentally roll my eyes and wonder why I'm talking to that person at all.
Do people say that in your state, or is it just Okies?
Sometimes I grossly overestimate my own appeal.
I live on a fairly busy street, and when my daughter comes home from school I go to the end of the driveway to "help" her across the street (because I don't trust the dumbass drivers who sometimes run the red light because they're utter MORONS)...and she is on her side and I'm on my side and the traffic is rushing between us...and the song "Running Bear" always plays an endless loop in my head.
I typed my URL as bran-soup.blogspot.com twice today.
Do you think I'm subliminally telling myself I need more fiber in my diet?
I wonder why people so often use discrete when they clearly mean discreet.
It just seems sort of like...cheating.
Mostly it seems totally disrespectful to the author who labored to craft the story for you (and by YOU I mean ME).
It's the getting there that's the fun part.
If you (and by YOU I mean YOU) authored a book, wouldn't you want someone to be so absorbed in your words that they just kept reading so they could get to the end?
I would.
Maybe Thumper could weigh in here, as a published author of several books (that I do love dearly!).
It really irritates me when people call this
"A YING YANG". It
Seriously.
Annoys.
Me.
And I mentally roll my eyes and wonder why I'm talking to that person at all.
Do people say that in your state, or is it just Okies?
Sometimes I grossly overestimate my own appeal.
I live on a fairly busy street, and when my daughter comes home from school I go to the end of the driveway to "help" her across the street (because I don't trust the dumbass drivers who sometimes run the red light because they're utter MORONS)...and she is on her side and I'm on my side and the traffic is rushing between us...and the song "Running Bear" always plays an endless loop in my head.
I typed my URL as bran-soup.blogspot.com twice today.
Do you think I'm subliminally telling myself I need more fiber in my diet?
I wonder why people so often use discrete when they clearly mean discreet.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Big deal.
So, I got a note from my son's teacher.
It may not seem like much--after all, he's 11 years old.
You may not understand why, but not only is it a big deal, it's a HUGE deal.
You see, he fed himself. All by himself. He scooped the food out of the bowl and put it in his mouth, with no-one holding his hand or elbow. And then he did it again. And again. Until all the food was gone.
He fed himself.
I cried.
It may not seem like much--after all, he's 11 years old.
You may not understand why, but not only is it a big deal, it's a HUGE deal.
You see, he fed himself. All by himself. He scooped the food out of the bowl and put it in his mouth, with no-one holding his hand or elbow. And then he did it again. And again. Until all the food was gone.
He fed himself.
I cried.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
An Addendum
I've been fretting, worrying, about Christmas this year because...well...quite honestly my financial situation is somewhat grim and I can't afford to give everyone the lovely things I want to give them.
Now, I try to keep the focus on what Christmas means--means to us, in my family, anyway--but there's nothing I love more than the bright and glowing faces of children when they wake up Christmas morning and see what's under the tree.
Then last night I overheard a conversation between my mother and my daughter.
MOM: "So, what do you want for Christmas this year? You haven't given me a list."
DAUGHTER: "I don't really want anything, I just want to spend time with the whole family together. That's the important thing."
This tiny 11 year old person could teach me a thing or two.
How did I ever get so lucky?
A recommendation...
Mamacita sent me this book:
and I urge you to read it. It's wrenching and warming and beautiful.
After I turned the last page, my heart--like the Grinch's--grew three sizes that day.
If you missed Sunday's show, you can LISTEN HERE to Monty Does Mojo.
In case you were wondering.
Have a day.
That is all.
Now, I try to keep the focus on what Christmas means--means to us, in my family, anyway--but there's nothing I love more than the bright and glowing faces of children when they wake up Christmas morning and see what's under the tree.
Then last night I overheard a conversation between my mother and my daughter.
MOM: "So, what do you want for Christmas this year? You haven't given me a list."
DAUGHTER: "I don't really want anything, I just want to spend time with the whole family together. That's the important thing."
This tiny 11 year old person could teach me a thing or two.
How did I ever get so lucky?
A recommendation...
Mamacita sent me this book:
and I urge you to read it. It's wrenching and warming and beautiful.
After I turned the last page, my heart--like the Grinch's--grew three sizes that day.
If you missed Sunday's show, you can LISTEN HERE to Monty Does Mojo.
In case you were wondering.
Have a day.
That is all.
Monday, November 27, 2006
The Taste Of Vindication is like...candy
Dear Kid Rock and Pam Anderson,
I TOLD YOU SO. In July, for crap's sake.
Is all I'm saying.
Sincerely,
The same person who still thinks you're effed in the heads but still sort of likes you both anyways
I TOLD YOU SO. In July, for crap's sake.
Is all I'm saying.
Sincerely,
The same person who still thinks you're effed in the heads but still sort of likes you both anyways
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Wastin' away again...
...in margaritaville.
5:30pm
I'm deepintheheartof Margaritaville right now.
And I ain't alone...Jules is with me.
7:45pm
I crawled over toj thec omputer abecause we rannnnn out of margareita mixes snad now we are moving to appletini terictoryh ans MAN i'm so tired!
Julie drunk called Brian and Terri and I'M watching Criminal Minds so I can learn to plna the prefect crimesx.
is what all im saying.
5:30pm
I'm deepintheheartof Margaritaville right now.
And I ain't alone...Jules is with me.
7:45pm
I crawled over toj thec omputer abecause we rannnnn out of margareita mixes snad now we are moving to appletini terictoryh ans MAN i'm so tired!
Julie drunk called Brian and Terri and I'M watching Criminal Minds so I can learn to plna the prefect crimesx.
is what all im saying.
On the road again....
Hey, guess where I am??
At JULIE'S!
Yes, here I am again, having just eaten the best Chinese food ever...and waiting until we get a little closer to cocktail hour before we start mixing up the apple-tinis and margaritas.
With any luck, there will be drunken blogging tonight.
So stay tuned--same bat time, same bat channel....
One of the disadvantages of living next door to your parents...
MOM: "So, I was outside the other day and I 'happened' to see in your living room window...
ME: "MMMMhhmmm, just happened to, okay..."
MOM: "Do have your Christmas decorations up already? Because I saw something with a snowman on it."
ME: "Yeah, that's still up from last year."
At JULIE'S!
Yes, here I am again, having just eaten the best Chinese food ever...and waiting until we get a little closer to cocktail hour before we start mixing up the apple-tinis and margaritas.
With any luck, there will be drunken blogging tonight.
So stay tuned--same bat time, same bat channel....
One of the disadvantages of living next door to your parents...
MOM: "So, I was outside the other day and I 'happened' to see in your living room window...
ME: "MMMMhhmmm, just happened to, okay..."
MOM: "Do have your Christmas decorations up already? Because I saw something with a snowman on it."
ME: "Yeah, that's still up from last year."
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Too bad they're not prophetic...
So I had this dream last night involving James Spader. Although it was more the Stargate James than the Boston Legal James...but either way, I wouldn't kick him out for eatin' crackers in bed.
Anyways.
We were on some private jet or something and we were talking about our scars (okay, that's weird), and then he took my hand & kissed it.
I'm not going to give you all the naughty details, but there was some...stuff going on. Not on the plane, though. Dammit. I wanted to be in the Mile High Club.
Next thing I know we're in love and the REASON I know is because he told me, as he was driving me to some girl-only party at a country club or something.
*dreamy sigh*
Get to the country club or whatever it was--bunch of skinny girls in scanty clothing dancing around everywhere and I realize that I'm wearing jeans and a jacket and I'm horribly underdressed. Figures.
Then one of my girlfriends gets kidnapped or something and it just got too weird and I woke up.
I totally tried to fall back asleep & back into the part of the dream with James, but it didn't happen.
But for a moment, he loved me.
Speaking of celebrities, did I ever mention that Jeremy Irons makes me tingly in all my secret places?
Because he does.
If you're having a problem with ants, it probably isn't smart to put on banana-flavored lip balm before you go to bed.
Is all I'm sayin'.
Have a day.
That is all.
Anyways.
We were on some private jet or something and we were talking about our scars (okay, that's weird), and then he took my hand & kissed it.
I'm not going to give you all the naughty details, but there was some...stuff going on. Not on the plane, though. Dammit. I wanted to be in the Mile High Club.
Next thing I know we're in love and the REASON I know is because he told me, as he was driving me to some girl-only party at a country club or something.
*dreamy sigh*
Get to the country club or whatever it was--bunch of skinny girls in scanty clothing dancing around everywhere and I realize that I'm wearing jeans and a jacket and I'm horribly underdressed. Figures.
Then one of my girlfriends gets kidnapped or something and it just got too weird and I woke up.
I totally tried to fall back asleep & back into the part of the dream with James, but it didn't happen.
But for a moment, he loved me.
Speaking of celebrities, did I ever mention that Jeremy Irons makes me tingly in all my secret places?
Because he does.
If you're having a problem with ants, it probably isn't smart to put on banana-flavored lip balm before you go to bed.
Is all I'm sayin'.
Have a day.
That is all.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
What's so golden about silence, anyway?
Thank you for the emails-I love you for caring. Love, love love.
There are a number of reasons for my absence--time management (or lack thereof) factoring largely into the equation.
But...
There are other things. This field has lain fallow and untended, for I have been at war within myself.
The things I have wanted to say have been the definition of ugly, and there are those who would feel as though I were targeting them. Perhaps I would have been.
I have sat meself down several times to try and post, but my thoughts get jumbled and tangled, sliding over each other like...you know the worms you get for fishing bait in the styrofoam container? Yeah, like that.
So I stayed away.
I was/am struggling, barely coping, smothering beneath the weight of my life. I was/am resentful of the haves who crow their good fortune to the sky. I've never been one to begrudge others having things, because I realize that the value of things is nil in the long run. But I was becoming that person, that bitter person...
So I stayed away.
Then my two old friends, Depression and Anxiety, noticed that my hands were full and my shoulders bowed with the everydailies of life and they decided to come calling, as I hadn't the strength to turn them away. And they knew it, as they always do.
Their silken, honeyed voices whisper in my ears, bind my heart. They work together to work against each other, Depression bringing me low whilst Anxiety tries to pump me up.
And then a regular boarder at the House Of Me, Insecurity (who normally keeps a fairly low but constant profile, stays mostly quiet and unassuming) decided that Depression and Anxiety were having so much fun that it would pop in and join the party. Insecurity even brought a party gift, Self-Doubt.
See, Insecurity noticed, kept records...
Over a two week period, I sent 5 emails that required information and/or questions that needed answers...none were answered.
I had done a project for someone, as they requested, and it didn't get used as it was supposed to be used. Allegedly that is corrected now, but I haven't seen any evidence of it yet.
Two people who had said, "Oh, I'm SO going to do this for you" (weeks and weeks ago)neglected, as usual, to follow through.
The number of comments here went down, down, down.
I was going to get a blog re-design, and the designer backed out.
I signed up for MixMania, pimped it out, and still got left out of the mix due to an oversight.
I work so hard on putting my radio show together every week, and yet hardly anyone was listening live or downloading it.
Silly things, all.
But just like my everydaily issues, they grew and they grew and loomed larger in my mind every day.
So Insecurity said, "SAY! This is my kind of shindig!" and brought some Self-Doubt with him to pass around.
See up there? the part about the comments going down?
Yeah.
See, that bothers me...it bothers me that I noticed it.
I don't check my stats. Maybe once every few months I might remember to look, but mostly I don't. I never knew who my 10,000th visitor was. Or 75,000th. Or whatever. I don't notice that sort of thing--for me the comments always been about YOU, in particular, sharing your words, your thoughts...not the numbers.
I LOATHE those whiny-ass posts that say "Oh dear I only got 18 comments yesterday instead of the normal 40 oh don't you love me anymooooooore?"
Pah. I always want to smack someone upside the head when I read those posts.
But I was in serious danger of becoming that person, because the stats began to matter to me. Blame Insecurity, it's totally his fault.
I was becoming obsessive about checking them, worrying when no one visited or commented, feeling more blue and unloved and...unnoticed.
I wanted-needed-acknowledgement. I needed to know that I mattered to you.
So Anxiety and Depression were dancing in the middle of the room, Insecurity was insidiously sliding around the edges, drifting, passing out Doubt, planting the seeds wherever he came to rest.
Add to that a healthy side dish of Guilt because I wasn't leaving comments for you, due to the aforementioned Time Management thingy.
And I turned away from a friend because they have become appalling to me-their practices and values are such that I cannot tolerate them without serious irritation.
I realize the flaw lies within me, but still, the Irritation is something I don't think I can stand at the moment, so I turn my back. I think of it as Self-Preservation.
I feel weak and cowardly, but I'm fighting it.
I really do love you for caring-thank you again for the lovely concerned emails.
One more thing...I've lost my sense of humor. Have you seen it? Should you run across it lying around somewhere, just drop it in the nearest mailbox and send it home to me, won't you? Because I'd like to smile.
There are a number of reasons for my absence--time management (or lack thereof) factoring largely into the equation.
But...
There are other things. This field has lain fallow and untended, for I have been at war within myself.
The things I have wanted to say have been the definition of ugly, and there are those who would feel as though I were targeting them. Perhaps I would have been.
I have sat meself down several times to try and post, but my thoughts get jumbled and tangled, sliding over each other like...you know the worms you get for fishing bait in the styrofoam container? Yeah, like that.
So I stayed away.
I was/am struggling, barely coping, smothering beneath the weight of my life. I was/am resentful of the haves who crow their good fortune to the sky. I've never been one to begrudge others having things, because I realize that the value of things is nil in the long run. But I was becoming that person, that bitter person...
So I stayed away.
Then my two old friends, Depression and Anxiety, noticed that my hands were full and my shoulders bowed with the everydailies of life and they decided to come calling, as I hadn't the strength to turn them away. And they knew it, as they always do.
Their silken, honeyed voices whisper in my ears, bind my heart. They work together to work against each other, Depression bringing me low whilst Anxiety tries to pump me up.
And then a regular boarder at the House Of Me, Insecurity (who normally keeps a fairly low but constant profile, stays mostly quiet and unassuming) decided that Depression and Anxiety were having so much fun that it would pop in and join the party. Insecurity even brought a party gift, Self-Doubt.
See, Insecurity noticed, kept records...
Over a two week period, I sent 5 emails that required information and/or questions that needed answers...none were answered.
I had done a project for someone, as they requested, and it didn't get used as it was supposed to be used. Allegedly that is corrected now, but I haven't seen any evidence of it yet.
Two people who had said, "Oh, I'm SO going to do this for you" (weeks and weeks ago)neglected, as usual, to follow through.
The number of comments here went down, down, down.
I was going to get a blog re-design, and the designer backed out.
I signed up for MixMania, pimped it out, and still got left out of the mix due to an oversight.
I work so hard on putting my radio show together every week, and yet hardly anyone was listening live or downloading it.
Silly things, all.
But just like my everydaily issues, they grew and they grew and loomed larger in my mind every day.
So Insecurity said, "SAY! This is my kind of shindig!" and brought some Self-Doubt with him to pass around.
See up there? the part about the comments going down?
Yeah.
See, that bothers me...it bothers me that I noticed it.
I don't check my stats. Maybe once every few months I might remember to look, but mostly I don't. I never knew who my 10,000th visitor was. Or 75,000th. Or whatever. I don't notice that sort of thing--for me the comments always been about YOU, in particular, sharing your words, your thoughts...not the numbers.
I LOATHE those whiny-ass posts that say "Oh dear I only got 18 comments yesterday instead of the normal 40 oh don't you love me anymooooooore?"
Pah. I always want to smack someone upside the head when I read those posts.
But I was in serious danger of becoming that person, because the stats began to matter to me. Blame Insecurity, it's totally his fault.
I was becoming obsessive about checking them, worrying when no one visited or commented, feeling more blue and unloved and...unnoticed.
I wanted-needed-acknowledgement. I needed to know that I mattered to you.
So Anxiety and Depression were dancing in the middle of the room, Insecurity was insidiously sliding around the edges, drifting, passing out Doubt, planting the seeds wherever he came to rest.
Add to that a healthy side dish of Guilt because I wasn't leaving comments for you, due to the aforementioned Time Management thingy.
And I turned away from a friend because they have become appalling to me-their practices and values are such that I cannot tolerate them without serious irritation.
I realize the flaw lies within me, but still, the Irritation is something I don't think I can stand at the moment, so I turn my back. I think of it as Self-Preservation.
I feel weak and cowardly, but I'm fighting it.
I really do love you for caring-thank you again for the lovely concerned emails.
One more thing...I've lost my sense of humor. Have you seen it? Should you run across it lying around somewhere, just drop it in the nearest mailbox and send it home to me, won't you? Because I'd like to smile.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
The Final Countdown
**ATTENTION PLEASE!
I have a small request.
(Nearly)Every Thursday at 9pm EST, I tune in to Jeckles and Shitty Blog Radio, The Worst Show On The Internet.
(it is, in fact, not the worst show on the internet)
Anyway.
The station that currently hosts Shitty Blog Radio is tuning out, closing the doors, going off-air.
I hope, with your help, to convince Jeckles to stay on the air, somehow, some way.
Tune in HERE, tomorrow night, 9pm EST.
I know it's been awhile, but I haven't forgotten that I'm still in the midst of my Blogathon Bribe Payoff! Take a listen:
Click here to get your own player.
You know, I take good care of my poor old car. I check the fluids regularly, keep the oil clean and the gas treated, perform general maintenance. It's old, but it has run like a dream for a really, really long time.
Guess what? Last week, my car stranded me on the highway. Fuel pump. Yep.
Luckily SuperDad (my very wonderful daddy) managed to help me get it home (two hours of me pushing it with his truck)(but we prevailed). Then, over the weekend, he replaced the fuel pump for me.
Guess what else? Today, my car stranded me on the highway. Yep. Right at the tail-end of an on-ramp...luckily one of OKC's Finest pushed me to the nearest exit...and left me right at the stop sign. No sweat, SuperDad would be on the way.
Except he got held up (he was working, you know), so I sat. For about 2 hours. In a really groovy, super-fun section of town right near the railroad tracks! Awesome.
Just me and The Hitcher. Well, I guess he wasn't as creepy as THE Hitcher, because I saw the last person to give him a ride let him out and go tooling merrily along so obviously he didn't kill them or cut off their fingers to put in someone's order of french fries.
So I watched him change his socks (he actually threw the old ones under a tree, which sort of makes sense because after all, who wants to tote around stinky, dirty socks? *gag*), then he spread a little picnic...after a while I was sort of grateful for his presence because if someone really creepy came along, perhaps The Hitcher would rush to my aid.
Anyway.
The SuperDad suspects it may be the timing belt or timing chain or whateverthefuck it's called.
And guess what else? I've developed a weird pain in the area near my appendix.
Or maybe not, because I'm not exactly sure where my appendix is.
Perhaps it's simply some internal bleeding.
You know, I try (with the exception, perhaps, of the last couple of weeks) to find the humor in most situations, to laugh rather than cry...I hate for people to think I'm playing on their sympathies. It makes me feel guilty and somewhat anxious.
But I must have been putting some seriously bad karma out there, somehow, unknowingly. And
I.
Have.
Had.
Enough.
UNCLE, already.
I quit.
I have a small request.
(Nearly)Every Thursday at 9pm EST, I tune in to Jeckles and Shitty Blog Radio, The Worst Show On The Internet.
(it is, in fact, not the worst show on the internet)
Anyway.
The station that currently hosts Shitty Blog Radio is tuning out, closing the doors, going off-air.
I hope, with your help, to convince Jeckles to stay on the air, somehow, some way.
Tune in HERE, tomorrow night, 9pm EST.
I know it's been awhile, but I haven't forgotten that I'm still in the midst of my Blogathon Bribe Payoff! Take a listen:
Click here to get your own player.
You know, I take good care of my poor old car. I check the fluids regularly, keep the oil clean and the gas treated, perform general maintenance. It's old, but it has run like a dream for a really, really long time.
Guess what? Last week, my car stranded me on the highway. Fuel pump. Yep.
Luckily SuperDad (my very wonderful daddy) managed to help me get it home (two hours of me pushing it with his truck)(but we prevailed). Then, over the weekend, he replaced the fuel pump for me.
Guess what else? Today, my car stranded me on the highway. Yep. Right at the tail-end of an on-ramp...luckily one of OKC's Finest pushed me to the nearest exit...and left me right at the stop sign. No sweat, SuperDad would be on the way.
Except he got held up (he was working, you know), so I sat. For about 2 hours. In a really groovy, super-fun section of town right near the railroad tracks! Awesome.
Just me and The Hitcher. Well, I guess he wasn't as creepy as THE Hitcher, because I saw the last person to give him a ride let him out and go tooling merrily along so obviously he didn't kill them or cut off their fingers to put in someone's order of french fries.
So I watched him change his socks (he actually threw the old ones under a tree, which sort of makes sense because after all, who wants to tote around stinky, dirty socks? *gag*), then he spread a little picnic...after a while I was sort of grateful for his presence because if someone really creepy came along, perhaps The Hitcher would rush to my aid.
Anyway.
The SuperDad suspects it may be the timing belt or timing chain or whateverthefuck it's called.
And guess what else? I've developed a weird pain in the area near my appendix.
Or maybe not, because I'm not exactly sure where my appendix is.
Perhaps it's simply some internal bleeding.
You know, I try (with the exception, perhaps, of the last couple of weeks) to find the humor in most situations, to laugh rather than cry...I hate for people to think I'm playing on their sympathies. It makes me feel guilty and somewhat anxious.
But I must have been putting some seriously bad karma out there, somehow, unknowingly. And
I.
Have.
Had.
Enough.
UNCLE, already.
I quit.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Parenthetically speaking
Once again I must throw myself 'pon your tender mercies and beg forgiveness for lack of commenting.
The passage of time has become my enemy--there is too much work left at the end of the day and no hours left in which to do it.
Perhaps I would benefit from a time-management course, because obviously I've lost all skills.
(and did you know? it takes about 4 hours-or so-to produce a 2-hour radio show. That's a lo-hoooot of work)
(is all I'm saying)
(but it is all.for.you. so I don't mind a single bit)
(and I forgive you for not listening to the show)
(and you can make it up to me by downloading it right here)
(plus don't you want to know about the perfect Christmas gift? And Halloween contest?)
(I'm sorry that it's in two parts, but you're smart enough to figure it out)
(it's really a pretty good show, all things considered)
Have you been on the Crosstown lately?
Have you seen that Diffee billboard on I-40 West, just east of Classen Blvd?
Have you noticed that the shirt that Diffee kid is wearing looks just like it should belong to Captain James T. Kirk?
and now, a Meme.
Kitty tagged me a little while back with this (sorry I'm just now getting to it!)
Here are the rules of the tag: List 5 weird things about yourself or your pets. Tag 5 friends and list them. Those people need to write on their blogs about 5 weird things, and state the rules, and tag 5 more people. Don’t forget to let the people you tag know by posting a comment on their blog!
Here's my 5 weird things most of you don't know:
1) I hold entire conversations with myself, OUT LOUD. Sometimes in the mirror.
2) I sometimes shout "SPOOOOOOOOON!" or "CATFISH!" for no apparent reason. (actually they're inside jokes, but I use them even when no-one is around to get it)
3) I like to belch REAAAAALY long & loud, Booger style. Sometimes I can get halfway through the alphabet.
4) I am a packrat. I save stuff. LOTS of stuff. Hey, I might need it some day.
5) I am weird about eating chicken. I must pick it apart and make sure there is absolutely no pink anywhere.
You know my rules on tagging...feel free to tag yourselves. And don't forget to leave me a comment so that I may come andlaugh at your weirdness admire your answers.
That is all.
Have a day.
The passage of time has become my enemy--there is too much work left at the end of the day and no hours left in which to do it.
Perhaps I would benefit from a time-management course, because obviously I've lost all skills.
(and did you know? it takes about 4 hours-or so-to produce a 2-hour radio show. That's a lo-hoooot of work)
(is all I'm saying)
(but it is all.for.you. so I don't mind a single bit)
(and I forgive you for not listening to the show)
(and you can make it up to me by downloading it right here)
(plus don't you want to know about the perfect Christmas gift? And Halloween contest?)
(I'm sorry that it's in two parts, but you're smart enough to figure it out)
(it's really a pretty good show, all things considered)
Have you been on the Crosstown lately?
Have you seen that Diffee billboard on I-40 West, just east of Classen Blvd?
Have you noticed that the shirt that Diffee kid is wearing looks just like it should belong to Captain James T. Kirk?
and now, a Meme.
Kitty tagged me a little while back with this (sorry I'm just now getting to it!)
Here are the rules of the tag: List 5 weird things about yourself or your pets. Tag 5 friends and list them. Those people need to write on their blogs about 5 weird things, and state the rules, and tag 5 more people. Don’t forget to let the people you tag know by posting a comment on their blog!
Here's my 5 weird things most of you don't know:
1) I hold entire conversations with myself, OUT LOUD. Sometimes in the mirror.
2) I sometimes shout "SPOOOOOOOOON!" or "CATFISH!" for no apparent reason. (actually they're inside jokes, but I use them even when no-one is around to get it)
3) I like to belch REAAAAALY long & loud, Booger style. Sometimes I can get halfway through the alphabet.
4) I am a packrat. I save stuff. LOTS of stuff. Hey, I might need it some day.
5) I am weird about eating chicken. I must pick it apart and make sure there is absolutely no pink anywhere.
You know my rules on tagging...feel free to tag yourselves. And don't forget to leave me a comment so that I may come and
That is all.
Have a day.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Wow.
Did anyone watch last night's edition of Extreme Home Makeover, with the Bliven family?
That boy in the wheelchair, Aaron? Could've nearly doubled for my boy.
Only mine's cuter. :) (except for maybe that time I cut his hair & he looked like Lloyd Christmas)
I cried buckets. I mean full-on boo-hoo sobbing.
Every other minute I burst into fresh tears.
And I was...I'm not sure if comforted is the right word, but it's close...to watch them struggle with the exact same issues I face every day.
It made me feel connected to them, or something like that.
The hardships of carrying and lifting and bathing and living with a son with those particular disabilities, with CP and seizure disorder...whacking his head or legs against the doorframes, no matter HOW careful you try to be...I could only nod my head and say yes, yes, oh yes. I get it.
And then I thanked God for blessing that family with that amazing new home, and the people who built it.
That boy in the wheelchair, Aaron? Could've nearly doubled for my boy.
Only mine's cuter. :) (except for maybe that time I cut his hair & he looked like Lloyd Christmas)
I cried buckets. I mean full-on boo-hoo sobbing.
Every other minute I burst into fresh tears.
And I was...I'm not sure if comforted is the right word, but it's close...to watch them struggle with the exact same issues I face every day.
It made me feel connected to them, or something like that.
The hardships of carrying and lifting and bathing and living with a son with those particular disabilities, with CP and seizure disorder...whacking his head or legs against the doorframes, no matter HOW careful you try to be...I could only nod my head and say yes, yes, oh yes. I get it.
And then I thanked God for blessing that family with that amazing new home, and the people who built it.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Who said life was fair?
My friend (and one of my favorite Aussies) PETE said that to be fair I should post "How To Shower Like A Woman"...
...but Pete honey, it was all about steamy scents and sensuality and of course hand-held massage shower heads and I didn't think your poor heart could take it.
So I'm really just withholding it for your own good. You can thank me later.
:)
The pre-coffee look is probably why no one wants to sleep over.
The Shower Battle Of The Sexes
The men fight back...How To Shower Like A Woman, by PETER:
How To Shower Like a Woman
Take off clothes and place them sectioned in laundry basket according to lights and darks.
Walk to bathroom wearing long dressing gown.
If you see husband along the way, cover up any exposed areas.
Look at your womanly physique in the mirror - make mental note to do more sit-ups/leg-lifts, etc.
Get in the shower.
Use face cloth, arm cloth, leg cloth, long loofah, wide loofah and pumice stone.
Wash your hair once with cucumber and sage shampoo with 43 added vitamins.
Wash your hair again to make sure it's clean.
Condition your hair with grapefruit mint conditioner enhanced.
Wash your face with crushed apricot facial scrub for 10 minutes until red.
Wash entire rest of body with ginger nut and jaffa cake body wash.
Rinse conditioner off hair.
Shave armpits and legs.
Turn off shower.
Squeegee off all wet surfaces in shower.
Spray mould spots with tile cleaner.
Get out of shower.
Dry with towel the size of a small country.
Wrap hair in super absorbent towel.
Return to bedroom wearing long dressing gown and towel on head.
If you see husband along the way, cover up any exposed areas.
I'll have you know I haven't shaved my legs in ages.
So there.
Which is probably another reason why nobody wants to sleep over.
...but Pete honey, it was all about steamy scents and sensuality and of course hand-held massage shower heads and I didn't think your poor heart could take it.
So I'm really just withholding it for your own good. You can thank me later.
:)
The pre-coffee look is probably why no one wants to sleep over.
The Shower Battle Of The Sexes
The men fight back...How To Shower Like A Woman, by PETER:
How To Shower Like a Woman
Take off clothes and place them sectioned in laundry basket according to lights and darks.
Walk to bathroom wearing long dressing gown.
If you see husband along the way, cover up any exposed areas.
Look at your womanly physique in the mirror - make mental note to do more sit-ups/leg-lifts, etc.
Get in the shower.
Use face cloth, arm cloth, leg cloth, long loofah, wide loofah and pumice stone.
Wash your hair once with cucumber and sage shampoo with 43 added vitamins.
Wash your hair again to make sure it's clean.
Condition your hair with grapefruit mint conditioner enhanced.
Wash your face with crushed apricot facial scrub for 10 minutes until red.
Wash entire rest of body with ginger nut and jaffa cake body wash.
Rinse conditioner off hair.
Shave armpits and legs.
Turn off shower.
Squeegee off all wet surfaces in shower.
Spray mould spots with tile cleaner.
Get out of shower.
Dry with towel the size of a small country.
Wrap hair in super absorbent towel.
Return to bedroom wearing long dressing gown and towel on head.
If you see husband along the way, cover up any exposed areas.
I'll have you know I haven't shaved my legs in ages.
So there.
Which is probably another reason why nobody wants to sleep over.
This makes me laugh.
STOLEN FROM my friend DeeJay...
(of course, it was funnier when I read it on the radio show last Sunday-which you can still download RIGHT HERE)
How To Shower Like a Man:
Take off clothes while sitting on the edge of the bed and leave them in a pile.
Walk naked to the bathroom.
If you see wife along the way, shake wiener at her making the woo-woo' sound.
Look at your manly physique in the mirror.
Admire the size of your wiener and scratch your butt.
Get in the shower Wash your face. Wash your armpits.
Blow your nose in your hands and let the water rinse them off.
Fart and laugh at how loud it sounds in the shower.
Spend majority of time washing privates and surrounding area.
Wash your butt, leaving those coarse butt hairs stuck on the soap.
Wash your hair. Make a Shampoo Mohawk. Pee.
Rinse off and get out of shower. Avoid bathmat.
Dry off forearms and butt only.
Fail to notice water on floor because curtain was hanging out of tub the whole time.
Admire wiener size in mirror again. Shake it to watch water fly off.
Leave shower curtain open, wet mat on floor, light and fan on.
Return to bedroom with towel around waist.
If you pass wife, pull off towel, shake wiener at her and make the
woo-woo' sound again.
Throw wet towel on bed.
How well I remember.
Bleh.
:)
(of course, it was funnier when I read it on the radio show last Sunday-which you can still download RIGHT HERE)
How To Shower Like a Man:
Take off clothes while sitting on the edge of the bed and leave them in a pile.
Walk naked to the bathroom.
If you see wife along the way, shake wiener at her making the woo-woo' sound.
Look at your manly physique in the mirror.
Admire the size of your wiener and scratch your butt.
Get in the shower Wash your face. Wash your armpits.
Blow your nose in your hands and let the water rinse them off.
Fart and laugh at how loud it sounds in the shower.
Spend majority of time washing privates and surrounding area.
Wash your butt, leaving those coarse butt hairs stuck on the soap.
Wash your hair. Make a Shampoo Mohawk. Pee.
Rinse off and get out of shower. Avoid bathmat.
Dry off forearms and butt only.
Fail to notice water on floor because curtain was hanging out of tub the whole time.
Admire wiener size in mirror again. Shake it to watch water fly off.
Leave shower curtain open, wet mat on floor, light and fan on.
Return to bedroom with towel around waist.
If you pass wife, pull off towel, shake wiener at her and make the
woo-woo' sound again.
Throw wet towel on bed.
How well I remember.
Bleh.
:)
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
TAKE HIM BACK!
I seriously think JULES is giving out my email address to her psycho freaky guys...
I got this today (complete WITH (telf)TELEPHONE NUMBER):
"hello princesa mi telf es 405 6** ***2 come mi bebi please"
*sigh*
I got this today (complete WITH (telf)TELEPHONE NUMBER):
"hello princesa mi telf es 405 6** ***2 come mi bebi please"
*sigh*
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Choose your attitude.
Sometimes I feel like Ursula The Sea Witch...and I revel in it.
Sometimes when people are kind to me...I cry.
Sometimes I really really really really really hate being poor.
Then I get over it because I realize that I am rich in love, family, friendships, and faith-the things that really really really really really matter.
The moan I gave out when I bit into a cheddar pepper from the Crack House sounded orgasmic in nature.
It very nearly was.
Sometimes when people are kind to me...I cry.
Sometimes I really really really really really hate being poor.
Then I get over it because I realize that I am rich in love, family, friendships, and faith-the things that really really really really really matter.
The moan I gave out when I bit into a cheddar pepper from the Crack House sounded orgasmic in nature.
It very nearly was.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
RADIO SHOW UPDATE!!
!!!! There may be a glitch with the Live365 player on my radio show tonight!!!!
Sorry 'bout that.
Here, download your very own, brand new, SUPER EXCITING copy of MONTY DOES MOJO!
Click here to get your own player.
Sorry 'bout that.
Here, download your very own, brand new, SUPER EXCITING copy of MONTY DOES MOJO!
Click here to get your own player.
About A Girl, and a reminder.
but first...A Shameful Confession:
Sometimes when I have a really bad nightmare-you know, the kind where you wake up with your heart racing and you look around wildly, disoriented--I go back to sleep...
...with the lamp on.
When my daughter read the Little House on the Prairie series of books, she started calling me Ma.
Of course, when I was young and I read Little Women, I started calling my mom "Marmee".
And after I read "Mommie Dearest"...well, I started calling my mom "Mommie Dearest". I still do sometimes. Then she threatens me with Bon Ami.
ANYWAY. Back to the point.
We've finally moved past the "Ma" phase.
Now she calls me "Mum".
Evidently I'm raising a Brit.
Yesterday afternoon I told my daughter that we could have fast food for lunch (I was working and...well...too lazy to cook), as long as it was something inexpensive.
SHE: Is Mazzio's expensive?
ME: Oh yes, WAY too much money.
SHE: How about Long John Silver's?
ME: Well, that's pretty expensive too. Try again.
SHE: How about we go see what Grandma's got? 'Cause that's priceless.
ME *giggle*
Sometimes when I have a really bad nightmare-you know, the kind where you wake up with your heart racing and you look around wildly, disoriented--I go back to sleep...
...with the lamp on.
When my daughter read the Little House on the Prairie series of books, she started calling me Ma.
Of course, when I was young and I read Little Women, I started calling my mom "Marmee".
And after I read "Mommie Dearest"...well, I started calling my mom "Mommie Dearest". I still do sometimes. Then she threatens me with Bon Ami.
ANYWAY. Back to the point.
We've finally moved past the "Ma" phase.
Now she calls me "Mum".
Evidently I'm raising a Brit.
Yesterday afternoon I told my daughter that we could have fast food for lunch (I was working and...well...too lazy to cook), as long as it was something inexpensive.
SHE: Is Mazzio's expensive?
ME: Oh yes, WAY too much money.
SHE: How about Long John Silver's?
ME: Well, that's pretty expensive too. Try again.
SHE: How about we go see what Grandma's got? 'Cause that's priceless.
ME *giggle*
Thursday, October 05, 2006
The Scales Fell From Our Eyes
Last night I watched Peter Pan with the kids (for about the 300th time) and realized yet again...
Tinkerbell? High toned grade-A bitch. And turncoat. (I believe I have mentioned this before)
Wendy? Drama queen. And perpetual "victim".
Mermaids? Shrewish, mean-spirited harpies.
And Peter? Grandstanding show off. And a total playa.
Plus he likes to hit the hash pipe.
I begin to feel some small twist of sympathy for Captain Hook.
Tinkerbell? High toned grade-A bitch. And turncoat. (I believe I have mentioned this before)
Wendy? Drama queen. And perpetual "victim".
Mermaids? Shrewish, mean-spirited harpies.
And Peter? Grandstanding show off. And a total playa.
Plus he likes to hit the hash pipe.
I begin to feel some small twist of sympathy for Captain Hook.
Stop Me If You've Heard This One
but first...
What do you say to someone...when there's really nothing left to say?
Very sad.
I really need to learn to temper my temper.
One of my most serious character flaws (of which there are many) is that I have so much trouble with Letting It Go.
I used the word "whatevs" in conversation yesterday.
I'm so ashamed.
I had a bizarre dream last night...and I feel as though I've had it before. I also feel as though I've told you about it before...maybe I did. Or maybe I just dreamed that I did.
Anyway.
So in the dream THIS GUY and THIS GUY (both VIEBs-Very Important Ex Boyfriends with whom I had long term relationships)(please excuse the pic of THIS GUY #2, we didn't part on good terms)(obviously) were fighting over me...by juggling flaming bowling pin thingies.
I was standing between them.
BUT WAIT!
They weren't fighting over who got to have me...they were fighting over who had to take me.
Talk about a downer.
Seriously.
Assholes.
and furthermore...
I had another bizarre dream after (re)falling asleep...
I was in a formal dress with some other people, and apparently my date was a younger Christopher Walken...
we were in this strange place, Willy Wonka-ish, with huge contraptions and cogs and moving lifts that you had to use to get around with.
Like, at one point right before I (re)woke up, we (Chris and I) stepped on this platform thingy that moved up, up up...
He was trying to comfort me, but we were in some sort of (mild?) danger or something and I was scared.
...anyway, the lift went up and we had to grab onto these handholds protruding from a giant cog-type wheel that was going around and we had to HANG ON because there was nothing below our feet, and I had a (his?) jacket draped over one arm and I was clutching something tightly in one hand that I COULD NOT DROP...so I was having trouble hanging on. I was actually starting to slip and Chris made a grab to help me when I (re)woke up.
Very weird.
But what does it all mean?!?
Maybe it means I just need to get laid.
OH and in case you wanted to listen...
here's last Sunday's LOOOOOOOOOVE show. Scroll down to Monty's Show #4.
It's in two parts for right now, so make sure you get part 1 first, mmkay?
Click here to get your own player.
What do you say to someone...when there's really nothing left to say?
Very sad.
I really need to learn to temper my temper.
One of my most serious character flaws (of which there are many) is that I have so much trouble with Letting It Go.
I used the word "whatevs" in conversation yesterday.
I'm so ashamed.
I had a bizarre dream last night...and I feel as though I've had it before. I also feel as though I've told you about it before...maybe I did. Or maybe I just dreamed that I did.
Anyway.
So in the dream THIS GUY and THIS GUY (both VIEBs-Very Important Ex Boyfriends with whom I had long term relationships)(please excuse the pic of THIS GUY #2, we didn't part on good terms)(obviously) were fighting over me...by juggling flaming bowling pin thingies.
I was standing between them.
BUT WAIT!
They weren't fighting over who got to have me...they were fighting over who had to take me.
Talk about a downer.
Seriously.
Assholes.
and furthermore...
I had another bizarre dream after (re)falling asleep...
I was in a formal dress with some other people, and apparently my date was a younger Christopher Walken...
we were in this strange place, Willy Wonka-ish, with huge contraptions and cogs and moving lifts that you had to use to get around with.
Like, at one point right before I (re)woke up, we (Chris and I) stepped on this platform thingy that moved up, up up...
He was trying to comfort me, but we were in some sort of (mild?) danger or something and I was scared.
...anyway, the lift went up and we had to grab onto these handholds protruding from a giant cog-type wheel that was going around and we had to HANG ON because there was nothing below our feet, and I had a (his?) jacket draped over one arm and I was clutching something tightly in one hand that I COULD NOT DROP...so I was having trouble hanging on. I was actually starting to slip and Chris made a grab to help me when I (re)woke up.
Very weird.
But what does it all mean?!?
Maybe it means I just need to get laid.
OH and in case you wanted to listen...
here's last Sunday's LOOOOOOOOOVE show. Scroll down to Monty's Show #4.
It's in two parts for right now, so make sure you get part 1 first, mmkay?
Click here to get your own player.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Two Things.
Creepy thing...
I downloaded the theme music from POLTERGEIST for Halloween...typically I listen to the preview as I download but I had a bunch of music queued up and I left the house to go to work.
Guess what?
That song won't play.
Won't.
I don't mean it just sits there with dead (heehee) air or anything...it won't play. I have it loaded into iTunes and it skips right over that particular piece of music. I try clicking on that song...and it skips to the next one.
Very strange.
I'm thinking of deleting it. It's scary.
Surprising thing...
Did you know I just now found out that Johnny Cash did a recording of my FAVORITE POEM EVER by Edna St. Vincent Millay?
Yeah. AWESOME.
I downloaded the theme music from POLTERGEIST for Halloween...typically I listen to the preview as I download but I had a bunch of music queued up and I left the house to go to work.
Guess what?
That song won't play.
Won't.
I don't mean it just sits there with dead (heehee) air or anything...it won't play. I have it loaded into iTunes and it skips right over that particular piece of music. I try clicking on that song...and it skips to the next one.
Very strange.
I'm thinking of deleting it. It's scary.
Surprising thing...
Did you know I just now found out that Johnny Cash did a recording of my FAVORITE POEM EVER by Edna St. Vincent Millay?
Yeah. AWESOME.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
september perfect post award
It is time once again to find that one perfect post.
Which of course is impossible because there are just so many to choose from!
This month I've chosen Birdie from The Beauty Dish for the post
Richer Than The Sum Of My Skirt.
Birdie is so very talented...she shares her life and adventures with us and you need no imagination--you're drawn right into the middle of her stories. Her zest for living and turning everything into an adventure is unmistakable, admirable, and enviable.
She wrings tears from me as regularly as hearty laughter, and I very often wish I lived in Birdie's house so that I could adventure alongside her.
Whoever said selling Avon was boring???
Then they didn't know Birdie J.
Which of course is impossible because there are just so many to choose from!
This month I've chosen Birdie from The Beauty Dish for the post
Richer Than The Sum Of My Skirt.
Birdie is so very talented...she shares her life and adventures with us and you need no imagination--you're drawn right into the middle of her stories. Her zest for living and turning everything into an adventure is unmistakable, admirable, and enviable.
She wrings tears from me as regularly as hearty laughter, and I very often wish I lived in Birdie's house so that I could adventure alongside her.
Whoever said selling Avon was boring???
Then they didn't know Birdie J.
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