Blue Monday

HEY! Voting is finally up for The Best of Blogs (BoB Awards)!
I'm very happy to see that some of the names I submitted for nomination made the list.
Now Go. Read all the blogs. VOTE ONCE A DAY.

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Okay, I'd REALLY love to know how my formerly straight-haired son suddenly grew this corkscrewy Greg Brady white boy 'fro.




Can hormones & puberty curl your hair like that?

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That is all.
Have a...Monday.

Despite the weather...

...my worst nightmare the Spring Fling must go on!

Yes, yes, the day I've been dreading is here. No matter that there are tornado watches and warnings, with circulations and sirens and the usual OkieLand spring stuff, the date night is here. Bleh.

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There is an assload of pictures coming up. I couldn't help myself.

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Now, I know all your kids are incredibly beautiful, but come on.
Looka this:



And then take a gander at THIS supermodel(please ignore what I couldn't crop out of her messy room):



Have you EVER in your life seen a cuter face than this???



She's just learned that boys are frequently late (but we gave him a break due to the weather and the fact that his mom was driving)(note the big ass cup from The Crack House *Sonic* on the floor--right now I'm wishing it was brim-full of booze):



And her cute little painted toesies in the shoes that she picked out:



And striking another pose:



And finally, with The Boy (ick)(**note the addition of the corsage!)(dude needs to get his hands off my daughter)(but I forgot to have the shotgun out)

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Now if you'll all excuse me, I have to go and cry for a little while.

See, now THAT'S funny

**UPDATE!**
Everybody drink, because Gary just said "Deer Creek" about five times.
There is a big circulation there, and possible touchdown.
DRINK!
AND
The Tinker AFB sirens just started screaming at the same time my lights flickered.
Which is weird, because there's no tornadic activity in this area at the moment.

Now I must go stare at the radar screens for awhile.

**UPDATE 2** So far: Oklahoma County, Canadian County, Logan County, Grant County, & Kingfisher County. I'm so going to be drunk before dinnertime.

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My horoscope for today:
"It's okay to let down your guard and show all your honest emotions today. When other people have a positive impact on your life, you should let them know. Be prepared to communicate how other people make you feel today, because you will be surrounded by big personalities and bigger acts of generosity. You will experience a wonderful mixture of intimidation, excitement and gratitude. Let these feelings inspire you, and you will be unstoppable."

Time to head down cellar

If faced with a choice between two people you love, you choose the one who needs you most.

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It's a little bit scary to get a glimpse of what lives in my head, isn't it?
It's a little bit scary for me to let you see it.

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I am nothing if not contradictory in nature.
I make no apology for that.

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Today is a better day.
Why?
Because it is TORNADO SEASON.
And we've got severe weather headed this way.
There's something almost...sexually exciting...about the charged atmosphere during this time of year here in OkieLand. The weather makes my heart pound and my spirits soar. The black clouds that boil up almost out of nowhere ... driving down the road during a thunderstorm that makes you feel as though you're trapped in an overturned bowl of lightning ... seeing the dark clouds before you and slowly dimming sunshine in the rearview mirror--the contrast amazes me every single time. That spectacular quality of the light when a stray shaft of sunlight beams down with all the black, menacing clouds filling the sky all the way to the horizon and beyond as the backdrop ... it's surreal.

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Since Tornado Season has arrived (you should see some of the footage from last night's storms! Awe-inspiring!), it is now time to break out...
The Gary England Drinking Game

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Originally posted April 27, 2006

I can sit for HOURS mesmerized by the changing screens of the Doppler radar and NORAD, hypnotized by the weatherman's voice, listening and watching and watching and listening.

There's something about the weathermen that make me feel safe and soothed...because they know JUST what is going to happen, JUST when and JUST where.
I love them with a deep and abiding passion.

I suddenly have a strong need to go hug a weather dude.

So, I stole this from Sleeping Mommy, and if you have ever lived in Oklahoma this game will make perfect sense to you.
Hell, if you've ever visited Oklahoma in the spring or summer, it will make perfect sense to you.

Have fun!
GARY ENGLAND DRINKING GAME
(I left SleepingMommy's comments in parentheses because they made me giggle)(and I strongly suggest that you stock the liquor cabinet or invest in a keg before starting the game)

*Pregame

*1. Everyone selects a storm chaser other than Val Castor.
(Monty sez: I choose Hank when I just want a little buzz. He doesn't get as much action)
(Val lives in Stillwater and Gary talks to him CONSTANTLY.)
Every time Gary talks to your storm chaser, you take one drink.
Take two drinks every time we see footage from your storm chaser.
Take four drinks if your storm chaser says “tornado on the ground.”

2. Everyone selects a county other than Pottawatomie County.
(Because we are always hearing about Pottawatomie County.)
Every time Gary mentions your county, you take one drink.
Take two drinks every time we see footage from your county.
Take four drinks if a tornado touches down in your county.

*One drink

*1. Take one drink every time Gary says the following:
“Hook echo” | “Updraft” | “Metro” | “Doppler radar” | “Wall cloud” |”Ranger 9″ | “Underground” | “Mobile home”
2. When Gary gives a list of counties, take one drink for every county in the list.
(Oklahoma has 77 counties but somehow they all get mentioned at some point.)
3. Take one drink every time Gary interrupts a program.
Take one drink if Gary says “You’re not missing any of [program name].” (This is a major concern damnit!)
Take one drink when Gary says “We’ll keep you advised.” (Like we had any doubt that you wouldn’t.)

*Two drinks

*1. Take two drinks every time Gary says the following:
“Baseball-sized hail” | “Waterloo Road” | “Pottawatomie County” | “Deer Creek High School” (How many times has that high school been hit anyway?!?)
2. Take two drinks every time Gary mentions the following towns:
Altus | Burns Flat | Dill City | Gotebo | Hydro | Lookeba | Meeker | Mulhall | Oktaha | Olustee | Shattuck | Slaughterville | Tryon | Vici |Waukomis | Wayne (or Payne) | Weleetka | Wetumkah (The only one that is even slightly big is Altus.)
3. Take two drinks every time Gary talks to Val Castor. (Now we are gonna get really drunk!)

*Three drinks

*1. Take three drinks if we see footage from Val Castor.
2. Take three drinks if we see footage from Pottawatomie County.
3. Take three drinks if Gary mentions the following:
“Immediate tornado precautions” | “National Weather Service” | “Mesocyclone” | “Portable Radio” | “Take shelter” | “Tornado warning in effect until …”

*Four drinks

*1. Take four drinks if Ranger 9 must land to refuel. (Notice it doesn’t say when it lands to take cover, we don’t land our aircraft in a tornado around here, we fly AROUND them.)
2. Take four drinks if Gary issues his own tornado warning, not recognized by the NWS (He’s a renegade that way) or says the following:
“Will someone please answer that phone?” (He takes this stuff seriously damn it, answer the phone.) or “Do you see the power flashes?”
3. Take four drinks if a shirt-less tornado victim is interviewed. (Redneck land, yo. There is a reason I get dressed and put on shoes when a storm is in the vicinity.)

*Finish your drink

*1. Finish your drink if someone uses the word tornado as a verb or if Gary mentions the cross streets nearest to you.
2. If Gary says “We’ve lost Val,” pour a little out for your homies and finish your drink. (Poor Val…)

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If THAT won't get you drunk, it can't be done.

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Now I've got to go move all the crap that lives on top of my cellar door, which for some odd reason (although I'm grateful!) is set into the floor of my bedroom.

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OH and PS: I'd like to thank all you smartasses who sent email with "Were you talking to ME?" messages. And yes, you're absolutely correct--you DO know me well enough to know that it would make me laugh.

Brain Soup Gumbo

That we care is both our blessing and our curse.

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Unburdening.
Because it wouldn't fall into a cohesive form, no matter how I tried.

I do not like the fact that I have begun to censor myself/because there are people who don't get it/this place/this space/is for me/and me/and me/what I think/what I feel/my opinions/my take/my everything/and I don't care if you agree/or have the same opinion as I do/and I don't always expect you to/even though, naturally, it's much more pleasant when you do/but still/this is my selfish space/and I do not understand why there are still those one or two or three peole who do not get it/who try to take my words and make it about themselves/when there are things I would say/or share/that those few would take as a personal affront/when in all likelyhood it had nothing whatever to do with them/and I can't decide if those people are incredibly conceited/or suffer from a more enormous guilt complex than I have myself/but it doesn't seem right that I must continually stroke/stroke/stroke/soothe/soothe/soothe/hurt feelings when no hurt was intended/it is not/can NOT be/my responsibility as to how they feel/and if a person feels bad because of something I have written/it is not my fault/unless of course I call you by name, in which case I'm totally willing to take the blame/I have decided that it is NOT necessary to submit myself for approval/so I would appreciate it if those people would think of this place like a strip joint/if you don't like what we show here, don't come/I think that's fair enough/and in other news/I do not like hurting those I care for/but I have managed to hurt a few lately/and there are others who are going to be hurt/because of my actions-or inactions/and that makes me very sad/even though I've been told it's unavoidable/and I so desperately want to avoid it anyway/and I've tried to come up with solutions/but evidently those solutions that seem relatively reasonable for me/even though it's a half-ass compromise/are not agreeable/and once someone chased me with a junebug/and I locked myself in the bathroom for half an hour/and it wasn't funny then and it isn't funny now/and if you taunt people with their strongest fears you're not only cruel, you're a bully/and somewhat of an asshat/and OH NO now I know that there are those who will take THAT personally/even though it's something that has been in my drafts for about a year/and has to do only with me being chased by a cruel bully asshat/so I've decided that the next time someone wants to know if something I've written was directed toward them/I'm simply going to say "yes". Even if that's a lie.

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I've got all my fingers crossed that the PMS will be over soon.

Love That Monday

"Everybody hates me!"
"Don't be ridiculous. Everybody hasn't met you yet."

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Did you miss the SEASON FINALE??
Never fear -- download it HERE!

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Sometimes it's tough to weigh the advantages of speaking your mind against not hurting a person's feelings, because the person would take offense whether you meant it for them or not.

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Sometimes when I glance at the word Shiitake, my eyes read ShitCake.
I have no idea why this is so.

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I have managed to entangle myself in a sticky situation, from which I have no idea how to extricate myself.

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Why is it that some people say, "I have to be honest..." but when you try to be honest right back, they get bent?

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I could totally go for some Ben & Jerry's right now.

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I am really, really sick and tired of appeasing people simply because they're either completely paranoid or so puffed up with self-importance that they think my every waking thought is consumed by them.

NEWSFLASH: My every thought is NOT about YOU. (well, maybe one or two of you, but those are really dirty thoughts so that doesn't count)

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I admire people when they have an...epiphany, or revelation, or self-realization.
I'm all GO YOU! That's GREAT! *support support support*
Except when they have the exact same revelation every few months and still haven't done anything about it.
Seriously? It's not news anymore.
Exactly how many times can you say the 'zact same thing over & over? I'm guessing I'll find out.

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When exactly did I turn into Crabby McCrabberson?

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I'd become a hermit, but that would be like shutting the barn door after the cow's already out.

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Tuesday, please hurry.

Busted

This past weekend the kids and I went to my friend's house for dinner, and my friend mentioned reading about my daughter's upcoming Spring Fling thingy.
She mentioned that she read it here.

My daughter gave me A Look and said, "MOOOOOM! You posted about my date on your BLOOOOOOG??"

Whoops.

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Last week as I was driving down the highway I saw one of my favorite ex-boyfriends.
Or rather, he saw me.
Or rather, he cut me off and waved to get my attention, then pulled into the next lane and slowed down until we were...window to window.
And grinned at me.

He still makes all the spit in my mouth dry up.

In case...

...you weren't listening last night. Here's your second chance.
Oh, and CALL ME! 206-66-MOJO-1
You know you want to.


Click here to get your own player.

Friday Thoughts

If I were forced to marry tomorrow and I could choose any celebrity I wanted...
I'd marry Craig Ferguson.
I love him.
Love.Love.LOVE HIM.

He makes me laugh a lot.

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If I were ever in his audience on the Late Late Show, I would throw my panties on the stage.

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Of course, he'd most probably be terrified at the piece of white cotton approximately the size of a mainsail hurtling toward him.

So maybe that's not such a good idea after all.

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Helpful Hints

A few suggestions for parents who are concerned about leaving their child/children home alone for the first time (they've worked out for me so far, and I gave some of them to MommaK recently and since she didn't post about her house burning down or anything, I guess they worked out okay for her too):

1. Show the children where the fire extinguisher is kept, in case they start a fire while playing with matches.

2. Teach them how to tie a proper tourniquet in case they cut themselves (or each other) while playing with knives.

3. Point out the proper dosage of Pepto Bismol to take after they've eaten 27 Fudgsicles for dinner.

4. Show them how to hide the evidence of keggers.

5. Teach them how to delete the cookies & temp files on the computer so you won't know they've been surfing porn sites.

6. Leave the medicated ointment available in case they burn themselves messing with the stove.

7. 911. 'Nuff said.

If you follow these suggestions, you should be able to feel comfortable leaving your children at home. And with luck, your house will still be standing upon your return.

No need to thank me. Really.

You know...

...if I were a different kind of person, I would say things like

If you know what steps you need to take to make the change, if you have the ability and means to take those steps, and you say you REALLY REALLY want to make the change, how stupid do you have to be not to at least put a toe over the line? Take a baby step?

and

Fo' reals yo, dawg, grow up. Get over yourself. You makin' me tired.

**I neglected to mention that I would also be saying these very things to myself.
***No, this was not directed at you.

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Whilst in the middle of daydreaming heavy thinking on the way to work today, I (once again) took the wrong exit.

This seems to happen to me with amazing regularity.

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I suffer from an overwhelming fear of being crushed whenever I happen to be exactly between two semi trucks on the highway.
It's the only thing that's ever made me claustrophobic.

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NOW there's dinner at the boy's house before the Spring Fling.
This does not bode well. For me, I mean.

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Say, you forgot to call me! 206-66-MOJO-1.
What is ya, chicken??!??

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That is all.
Have a day.

And stop stealing my stuff.
You know who you are.

Mothers and daughters

My daughter was in the kitchen rummaging for an after-school snack and I asked her a question...
and she answered me with a belch.
I mean she did the belch-talk thing.

On purpose.

I had to wipe a proud tear from my eye.

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Yesterday she came home from school bubbling over about the Spring Fling dance.
I told her she could probably go, if she didn't get in my bad books & get grounded before then.
Then.
She said.
A.
Boy.
ASKED HER TO GO.
WITH HIM.
To the dance.

A stinky nasty disgusting dirty boy, for crap's sake.

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I'm SO not ready for that.

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WhywhyWHY didn't I send her to the convent like I planned?

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I think I'm having a panic attack.

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P.S. Where can I get a shotgun?

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P.P.S. I don't need ammunition, I just want to look threatening.

Break out your iPods.

FOR A GOOD TUNE CALL: 206-66-MOJO-1


Click here to get your own player.

HURRY!!

It's almost time...

...to GET YOUR MOJO WORKIN'!

Tonight: No theme, just fab music with lots of 70's hits (no, not disco hits. The OTHER 70's music)

PLUS!
Reality TV UPDATE: Survivor, American Idol, Amazing Race
Your horoscope
More fun than one person can handle

Tonight. 8pm CENTRAL

Tune it in. TURN IT UP.

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See you there.
Or else.

Good news!

Last week I discovered that I am, in fact, Smarter Than A Fifth Grader.

Not that there was ever really any doubt.

Much.

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Help me out here, because I may be overreacting as usual.

Since beginning work in fractions, my daughter has been doing very poorly in math. Every week I have to sign several papers for the teacher-everything under a 70%.
I sent a note to the teacher--quite politely--and said that since Becca apparently doesn't understand the fraction thing very well, perhaps she could take a little time to go over it with her and give her a little extra attention in this area.

Two days later I get a note that says, "I've spoken to Mrs. K and she has a tutoring spot available."

To the tune of $10 for 30 minutes.
To teach Becca something she's already being paid to teach her.

Now before you eat me, I'm all for tutoring if needed. And I know that many educators are seriously underpaid (and, if you ask me--which you didn't--a few of them are seriously OVERpaid for what they do).


Maybe it's just because I loathe my daughter's school, and that's coloring my view, but to a poor gal like me that's an excessive amount.
I'm willing to admit that I could be wrong, and I just don't like my daughter's teachers.

Like two weeks ago, when my daughter missed Thursday & Friday because she had the flu.
She went back on Monday last week, and went around to her teachers getting her make-up assignments.

The language teacher said, "Don't ask me right now, I'll get it for you during your class time."
During class time, "I'll have to look it up & get it to you before class is over."
Near the end of class, "SIT DOWN."
At the end of class, "IF YOU ASK ME ONE MORE TIME I'M GOING TO SCREAM."

And Becca came home withOUT the language assignment.

Now, it seems to me that my daughter was just trying to be responsible and get all her homework (mostly so she wouldn't get into trouble with me).
And the teacher, the adult, did NOT hold up her end of the responsibility bar.

But see, I'm on the defensive every time I have to deal with her school, just because they've got a pantload of teachers who...don't seem to care about the students and instead have designated times for "active teaching" (THEIR term), and the rest is seatwork. And busywork. It took Becca a full week (plus weekend) to make up all the work that she missed those two days--because of the daily homework load.
Sorry, but in fifth grade I think the time is long past for coloring by numbers.

But I could be wrong. Maybe I don't get it.

2 days late and 2 dollars short

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!

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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....

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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)

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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)

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Happy Freakin' Monday.
That is all.

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.

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Sometimes I pretend to be interested in something when in truth I couldn't care less.

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Sometimes I worry that pretending like that makes me a really bad person.

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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 be delusional suffer a little self-delusion from time to time.

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Sometimes I burst into tears for no apparent reason.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Sometimes I'm facetious. (NO! Really?)

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Sometimes I eat the whole pint of Ben & Jerry's in one sitting.

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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)

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. :)

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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.

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That is all.
Have a day.

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.

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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.

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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?

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The lotto is over 60 million for Wednesday's drawing.
I wasted 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*

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.

Brain Soup du Jour

**I'm taping tonight! So CALL ME! 206-66-MOJO-1

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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.

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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.

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 the nastiest nicest way possible.

I was in bed with the flu.
But there was chocolate. So it wasn't so bad.

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.

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.

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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.

.

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! ?

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NOW AVAILABLE! NOW AVAILABLE! NOW AVAILABLE!

MOJO MERCHANDISE!
Monty's Mojo Merchandise Coming Soon....

How do you spell relief?

"What are you thankful for, Pooh Bear?"
"Oh, nothing short of EVERYTHING!"

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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)

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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.

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.

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Want to have a spot on my radio show?
CALL ME!
206-66-MOJO-1

---

That is all.
Have a day.

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.

---

UPDATE!! UPDATE!! UPDATE!! UPDATE!!
****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.

Composure

"Aren't you ready then, Piglet?"
"Y-y-yes Pooh, I'm not!"

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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.

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.

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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.

Just some stuff

Random Confession #1: Paul Shaffer and his pointed little gremlin teeth scare me.

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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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 sucker 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.

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...

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.

You've obviously forgotten what time it is.

IT IS SUNDAY. 8pm CENTRAL.
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.

You guys are pretty smart.

Random movie quote: "Beef jerky time."

---

Thanks to all you smarty-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. :)

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.

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!

'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 can use 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.

'07, Day One.

Could someone please turn that damn sun off?
Thanks, that'd be great.

Oh yeah, Happy blah blah blah.

Third time is the charm...

It wasn't my fault.
Blame Hallmark dot com.
Is all I'm saying.

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.

!!!!!!!!!!

"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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

HEY! YOU! Yeah YOU!

So, you missed it.
So, you can download now.
BONUS: NAME THAT SHOW Contest!
(with exciting prizes!)

Click here to get your own player.

---

Quote o' the Day:

"Never miss a good chance to shut up." --James Patterson

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.

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.

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.