Sunday, December 26, 2010

It's finally over.

Christmas, that is. Don't get me wrong, I like it as much as any other non-Christian celebrant. I love the tree, the decorations, the smells, the food and the presents and family. We don't talk about the baby Jesus or anything, and we never have. I'm not sure I even knew the supposed significance of the holiday until I was an adult. But, I enjoy the tradition and my Mom always throws her feet out in the decorating and cooking areas. Seriously. Christmas toilet paper, even.

At any rate, I was very good this year, because I got two excellent gifts from my husband. The first was the Flip camera. I love that thing. It's perfect. It's small, easy, and you can take video and then capture stills from the video very easily. No memory cards, you just plug into your UBS port and it uploads. Of course, it runs on Double A batteries, and my big complaint about digital cameras is that they run through batteries very quickly, but it's okay.

Then, I got the Clarisonic Opal. If you know me, you know I'm vain. My husband knows me. It's a small gadget that has a small silicone applicator that you put their eye serum on and it sonically applies it to your undereye skin. According to studies (on their site, of course), it will get the serum further into the epidermis than without it. Looked convincing. I don't care what science has said before about cremes actually penetrating the dermis. I like it. My eye puffiness is decreasing and I am pretty sure the crow's feet are, too. Plus, I trust the company because I love my Clarisonic skin care system so much I wish I could use it all day long. Same with my toothbrush.
Two thumbs up for both products from me.

Our kids got what they wanted, my husband got what he wanted, and I think everyone was happy, all in all. I did not get inebriated at our family dinner, and I ate food. I did not crawl into anyone's bed, although I considered crawling into my brother's just to piss him off. I even brought the accursed ham and a peppermint cheesecake, both of which I made with my own two hands. Take that, world. Suck it.

Now, I'm looking for good sales so I can buy other crap. I really like Philosophy's "Falling In Love" perfume. It's rare for me to like any perfume, let alone be able to wear it and tolerate it. I can wear any of the Hermes' perfumes, and get no headache. I think the Prada Infusion d'Iris is okay, as well. And I have twice sniffed "Falling in Love", and got no signs of a headache. This leads me to believe God wishes for me to purchase it.

I also plan on getting some new boots, as I cannot go more than a couple of months without boots of some kind. I need something new to read, so I might drive to Barnes and Nobles, although that's a pain in my ass. I would like some Tom's shoes, but would rather not pay for them, to be honest. I got my hair done, so that's not an issue. Hmmmm...I'm waiting for Netflix to send me Disc Two of the last season of The Tudors. We've seen Disc One and have Disc Three, but aren't going to watch Disc three before we've seen Disc Two, for the love. How stupid. So we wait. Oh, I have another present coming from Jerusalem, my husband said. It's just taking a lot longer, (duh), and I can't wait to see what it is.

I could go grab my Mom and niece and daughter and drive to Austin to the Domain and see what damage we could do there. (Probably a lot.) My overwhelming laziness is battling my almost overpowering materialism...it's an epic struggle. I feel torn.
A mani/pedi would be nice, but again...I don't feel like screaming, "What?" and "Pardon me"? to a masked person speaking in a tonal language to someone across the room for 2 hours. Also, I am not in a mood for small talk, and they LOVE to small talk, although you can't understand them. It's so tiring. Just shut up, do my feet and let me relax.

Botox is needed, but if I do it, I fear Wally may maim me. We could go to a movie, but there are people there. They eat popcorn loudly, and slurp their sodas, plus usually there is some jackhole nearby wearing a bottle of Axe or some such shit and I end up with a headache. Thank you, ill mannered, Axe wearing Assclown.

Oh, and if you are reading this and you know how to knit socks with the 5 double pointed needles, please contact me. I cannot for the life of me handle those needles, and can't slide stitches from the cast on needle to the other needles and then don't know where to start knitting. It's making me insane. Seriously. There is a new Yarn Shop here, but it's Sunday, so I'm assuming they are closed. Otherwise, I'd go, buy whatever they wanted and beg for a lesson. I have yet to conquer that. I've made sweaters, hats, scarves, headbands, cowls, a cat bed, (yes I knit a cat bed for my niece) and other things, but no socks or gloves because I cannot use those damned double pointed needles.
I have small hands, and maybe that's the problem. They don't reach all over the place to hold those needles, I don't know, but it's driving me nuts.

If I don't come back to uselessly complain and bitch, have a great New Year!

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Ne Derangez Pas

Fin

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year?

Hey. Hi. Whatever. It's that time of year again. Christmas. I really am growing to dislike it. People are rude, they are everywhere you go and they are impatient. Those qualities usually belong to me exclusively, and I don't appreciate sharing them with the public at large.

Anyhow, our kids are all home from school, as am I. My son has strep throat and mine hurts. Yippee. What a great present. We have an insanely huge amount of presents under our tree and this year I got it all done way ahead of time. Yay for me.

I really don't have too much to add, but after Christmas dinner, I'm sure I will. Perhaps even photos to go along with it. Some Xanax and wine and it will be a fun day for me. I might get another snooze in on my Mom's bed like I did on Thanksgiving. That was some good sleepin'.

PLUS, I still waiting on THREE separate gifts I ordered from a company called "The Daily Grommet". I am displeased with them in the extreme. These were Christmas gifts. I got one of the missing gifts, but three are still missing. I emailed them and they assured me they were looking into it. That was after two emails. Now, no further communication. Be warned if you use the Daily Grommet, the company "Violet Love" and "Sneakart" and it seems like there was another one. I got the belt from Jon Wye, so that is okay. But the others, I'm not pleased with at all. Be warned.

I have nothing left to say, so goodnight, ya perverts. (Points if you know what book that was from. )

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Happy, Merry Whatever

I know you've all been waiting anxiously for me to get around to blogging about my festive life. Sorry. Oh well.

Anyhow, I've been working on writing, working on teaching kids and just plain working on all the regular stuff everyone works on at this time of year.

I did get sorta drunk on Thanksgiving and evidently make many promises to my mother which I have no memory of. Her claims have been corroborated by both my husband and daughter. Strangely, I'm not ashamed of myself. It takes 5 Xanax and a bottle of Reisling to handle Thanksgiving with my family. Now, to pay penance, I have to bring a ham of all things to Christmas. I also took many strange pictures whilst inebriated, but perhaps I'll post those later. Most of them are very close up pictures of my Mom's walls. Why? I liked the new wall colors and wanted documentation of them so I could duplicate them at home. Problem is, when you get millimeters away from a wall, all of the colors pretty much look like a grey shadow. So there ya go.
After drunkenly careening around the house, digging my finger through the sweet potatoes and claiming the marshmallows as "MINE!", and then doing the same thing to the meringue on the chocolate pie, I evidently quietly snuck off to my Mom's room, crawled under her covers and went to sleep. Festive, no? By the word "meringue" I mean the whipped egg whites and sugar, not the dance. I'm not sure how to spell which one. Either way, I mean the egg white things.
So, there's a brief update. I've not traveled, which pisses me off royally. I've worked. I've worked and worked and worked and disgraced my family at Thanksgiving. My work here is done. For now.

Stay tuned for Christmas festivities!
Love,
The dinner guest you don't want

http://www.kdhnews.com/news/story.aspx?s=47382

http://www.kdhnews.com/news/story.aspx?s=47382

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Sayings I absolutely detest.

1. It is what it is. ---no shit? Really? It is. That is so stupid. No crap it is what it is. What the hell else would it be?

2. At the end of the day.----must this be said when someone is attempting to say, "what really is important is...." Come on, people.

3. "24/7"----Again, I hate this. Just say "all the time."

I am sure I will think of some more. But for now, they are making shirts that actually say "It is what it is.". I will punch the first person I see wearing that right in the face.

Monday, November 22, 2010

The dilemma of the WWW

So, a student told me today that she found my blog. Awesome. Great. I told her that it wasn't appropriate for kids. So, then, ALL the kids wanted to know what it was. I did not divulge it. However, I'm going to have to think how to block people under a certain age.

As for life. It's is the same. Only, now...there is the added guilt and pressure of Thanksgiving. I evidently don't give Thanks appropriately. I should slave in a kitchen all day from the crack of dawn to make a dinner that will be gobbled up in minutes, then clean it all up, store it and when I attempt to serve left overs, will be meant with groans of discontent. I'm not really thinking that sounds like fun. My Mom loves to do it, so there you are.

Anyhow, I hope everyone has a good holiday. I know I need it.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Blank

I am not writin much right now, because I seem to have dried up. Everything I write is a pile of doodoo. Plus, I have to plan holiday crap. Blah. I hate it. Money, money, money.

I am looking SO forward to my winter break, though. I can't come fast enough.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Check it.

Yeah, so scroll down to the bottom of my page and check out the marriage ticker thingie. 11 years, baby. Yes, there IS someone who is willing to put up with me. So there, Mom and Dad. Take that.

I have been married 11 years today to Wallsterham Lincoln. Aka: Wally. Aka: Sanford. Aka: Dude. Aka: Dammit, Wally! I don't usually use real names. I guess I got that from my Grandpa Gator. Hey, there is proof. I called him "Grandpa Gator" almost my whole life. His name wasn't "Gator", by the way.

Anyhow, hooray for us for being married for 11 years, raising three great kids, not killing each other; or the kids, having several obese, happy dogs, and living in a house we own and having no debt. Good for us.

I am busily planning our vow renewal in Rome for our 20th. Come if you wish, don't come if you don't wish. It will be the BEST thing EVER. I am trying to figure out how to get a Mariachi band over there, though. And the drunken dancing Mexican dudes. I gotta keep them sober and keep their livers healthy at least long enough for them to come dance at my vow renewal. I am also trying to figure out how to trick Sanford into a side trip to my favorite city in the world: Paris. I must get back there. Hell, with any luck, we'll be living there at that time and it won't be an issue.

But, for tonight, it's the Melting Pot, and we gave each other gifts already. I gave him a Southern bottle tree. It's fairly awesome. He gave me a box with a quote from Ernest Hemingway about writers on it and some DVDs for my class with Bill Nye, since they had no idea who he was and when I showed them a video about Buoyancy from Bill Nye they all acted as if they were converts to a new religion. He also reframed one of our wedding photos. It's in a beautiful frame, now...and DAMN, I had HUGE boobs! Thank you Dr. Lee for relieving me of that particular pain in the ass.

I returned from Ft. Worth yesterday after the Texas Gifted and Talented Conference. it was a great experience, and I plan on going again next year. I couldn't get my gun out of the room safe, though, and had to call security to come help me. The stupid BATTERIES in the safe were dead. BATTERIES??? How safe could it be? I didn't want them to see what was in the safe, as I was afraid they'd freak and kill me, but then I realized the poor people at the McDonald's in Waco saw it in my purse when I pulled out my wallet to pay and all they did was get really quiet and take my money and back away from the counter. Sorry Waco McDonald's people. I'm not a criminal, I'm just protecting myself from criminals.

Which brings me to: MY LATEST OBSESSION! Steven Seagal. I've probably been obsessed with him before. But now I'm really obsessed. Obsessively obsessed, even. Watch his A & E show if you haven't seen it. It's so kick ass it will leave you speechless and determined to be so Zen you won't even be able to stand yourself. I'm going to practice my Zen shooting over Thanksgiving weekend at the range with Wally, the boys and my Dad. Too bad for the guys that I'm going, too. I will be a big party pooper to them, I'm sure, but I have to try the shooting method Steven Seagal uses. I will out-shoot them all, as usual, I'm sure.

I got nothing else, people. Except, if you find my sapphire and diamond tennis bracelet which fell off somewhere between my classroom and my hotel room in Ft. Worth on Tuesday afternoon, please let me know. It's one of the first things the kids gave me, and it's their birthstones.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Just so I can say that I've written something lately...

I'll post this: I have nothing to say about much of anything. Except I am being worn down by rejections from publications. And I told the people who wanted to represent me "No". I may have sealed my own fate like a moron.

And my son's hair is an abomination. Both of them look homeless. It pains me. Oh well. Nothing new there.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Best.Dancers.EVER.

I admit I've become rather addicted to aimless wandering through YouTube. I can't help it. You can find ANYTHING on that thing. It's amazing. There is probably a video of your first kiss or the time you walked out of the restroom in high school with toilet paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe on that site. Or not. Maybe it's just me. Anyhow, a friend of mine found a video that she shared with me, and it's potentially the best video I've ever seen of anything. To include the videos of the births of my children. I LOVE those videos, but nobody else does. EVERYBODY loves this video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aWTHBa9FJY

Seriously, do yourself a favor and watch it. Now. Go. Now. Then come back here. I'll wait.

Did you do it? Because isn't it the single most amazing display of ...what? I don't even know what to call it. It's just awe-inspiring. I would like to find those two men and hire them. Filthy pants and Peruvian hat and all. The whole deal. That stupid assed song is stuck in my head, too. I could do without that, but it does make it easier to imagine the fiercely superior dance moves of the two maestros of rhythm.

I have come to feel that I know them, those two anonymous hoofers. I not only feel that I know them, but I think I'm in love with them a tiny bit. How could you not be? To have that...joie de vivre...that...j'nais se whatever...it would change your world like no amount of mind altering drugs, no Yoga ashram, no meditation, no praying...nothing...nothing could possibly be that deeply moving. Just to be able to smoothly make those motorcycle revving motions with one's hands whilst simultaneously kicking oneself in one's own ass whilst wearing white trousers...it would be the end all and be all of the ultimate "bucket list".

How did you like my masterful usage of the word "whilst" not once, but twice in one sentence? I am pretty impressed with myself, to be quite honest. We don't use words such as "whilst" nearly often enough. Also, we don't pronounce the 't' in the word "often" nearly often enough. It makes it sound much more ummmm...what's the word? Much more....smart. No. NO! I thought of the word I was looking for: intellectual. There. It makes one seem much more intellectual. Yeah. Which brings me back to the Amazing Dancing Duo.

I doubt they are very often called "intellectual", or even "smart", but one cannot deny their animal magnetism. They are dancing a veritable tribute to life at that Quincenera. They are shuffling and stomping their way into the collective whatsitcalled. The unconsciousness? The subconsciousness? Just the consciousness? I'm not sure which word it is I'm looking for there. In other words, soon, EVERYONE will know them. You will be able to simply say, "Hey, you know those two drunk dudes dancing?" and everyone ..EVERYONE will know what you mean.

Maybe they can get me a decent book deal, then. With my luck, they'll be too busy or whatever to help, though. Bastards.

Monday, October 4, 2010

My days of protesting in Paris and being tear gassed....oh you disbelievers...

well, get ready to believe. I found it on Youtube. In case you were unaware, you can find ANYTHINGon Youtube.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZK_i9N2Ckj4

We were there. I thought it was a "street festival". Don't ask. It was the cops beating their nightsticks against their riot shields. However, who can say they were tear gassed during a French Student riot in Paris during Spring Break?

And the dreadlocked guy? TOTALLY started the riot we were in. He had a megaphone, so it sort of sounded like latin music where they holler rapidly in a megaphone, and actually he was inciting people to throw stuff at cops who were guarding St. Sulpice Cathedral.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v-NuZtErl1AJY

And please excuse the horrid Euro Techno music. I have no explanation for that.

FYI: We were not the "troublemakers". We were killing time until our dinner reservation, which we never made because we were quite unpresentable because of tear gas and basic freaking out. And yes, it was Paris in the Springtime. Which is freezing cold, btw. Enjoy!!!

Sunday, October 3, 2010

This jacked up economy

"Jacked up" is not the phrase I wish to use, but I'll try and pull back on my cursing for a moment.

Here's the deal: I have all of my family on my health insurance which is "provided" by my employer. "Provided" is a real misnomer because I pay over $1,100 a MONTH on health insurance. Seriously. I work in order to have insurance. My husband is retired, we have one child in college, one a senior in high school and our youngest is a freshman in high school. I provide the insurance. I can't just up and quit because of the insurance. So, we've decided to get creative and find ways to cut back on it. I've looked into actually PROVIDING it ourselves, and the cost is barely less, if at all. Our children are legally supposed to be provided insurance by my ex husband, but based on his not having insurance in the past and telling me that he did, and us being told at the Dr.'s office that my children weren't insured, I've begun carrying them myself in order to make sure they are covered. He now promises me he does indeed have them covered, and he'll send me the card. I will believe it when I see it, and then I'll call the carrier daily to check that they are insured. Problem is, if I take them off of mine, I cannot add them back for any reason for a year. We have the little window called "open enrollment" in October, and if you take them off, they are off until the next "open enrollment" comes around. Same with our daughter, who does have a biological mother who is IN MY OPINION the sorriest excuse for a human being I've ever seen in my life. Ever since my husband and I married 11 years ago, and combined our families, she has been a pain in the ass. When they divorced, she didn't want custody of her only child who was only 6 years old at the time. So, my husband had sole custody. They made some deal so that she didn't pay child support. The ONLY obligation she had was to provide health insurance for her child. Which she did VERY grudgingly, and with constant bitching. Now that the child is 19, she is no longer covered under her mother's plan because on her 18th birthday, her "mother" cancelled her. Therefore, I do carry her, because I am not a piece of shit. My husband's retirement health plan was expensive, so we put him on mine. If you have one dependent, it's the same as 20 on my plan. So, I added him. Therefore, we pay a King's Ransom in health insurance premiums every single month. It's criminal.
We are going to try and fix it, but let's face it...the options are severely limited.
I am in a craptastic mood as a result. This is all I have for now. I hate insurance companies.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Whoops..

Hello. How's it going? I know, I know...I've been absent for awhile. I have no decent reason, other than being terribly lazy. Actually, my "real" job has started back up and my time for writing for myself has dwindled dramatically.

Let's see, what's new? How about some stats?
Number of rejections from literary magazines: 2
Number of rejections from agents/publishers: 2
Number of acceptance letters and requests for additional chapters: 1
Number of hours spent writing since the end of August: Less than 1
Number of nervous breakdowns since the end of August: 1
Number of temper tantrums since the end of August: too many to count

So. That catches us up pretty well. OOh! Wait! One more:
Number of children sent away to college and subsequently unable to contact her because of shooter on campus: 1

We did end up being able to contact our daughter, but not before me fleeing from work, my husband driving like his hair was on fire to try and get to the school, me picking up other two children from school so they wouldn't hear it from schoolmates, and other dramatic situations too numerous to mention. Thankfully, everyone is safe and sound and life has returned to normal. Or what we consider normal, anyhow.

To be perfectly honest, I have nothing much to say, but felt like I needed to get back to writing because all I've written is letters to student's parents lately. It's getting old. Fast. So, yeah. That's it.
Something slightly less than love,
Me

Friday, September 10, 2010

Busy, Busy, Busy

I haven't posted lately, because I've been working pretty much 24/7 (which is a saying I detest, by the way.) When I'm not working, I'm sleeping, working at home, or being with my family.

I need to get to the freakin' spa for Botox STAT. I can tell you that much. My forehead is beginning to show lines. Me no likee. I wouldn't mind a partial face lift, either, although a tummy tuck would be even better at this point. I wish I could buy botox and do it myself. I'd be injecting the hell out of everything.

Our daughter has been away at college for 3 weeks, now. So far, so good. She came home for Labor Day weekend, but on Sunday morning, she was ready to go back. This is a good thing, although it's tough letting them go.

I'm falling asleep as I type, so this is over. Nothing more to see, move along, people.
Man, I want peach pie.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Soooory

I haven't written lately because I'm a teacher, and this was the first week. MESS OF EPIC PROPORTIONS.
I gotta rest.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

What the hell?

Hello potential book characters for my book which will be wildly and hugely popular and will go down in history as being a brilliant work of art.
How are you all? Awesome. Good to hear.
Now, here is the dilemma: if one is fortunate enough to get what they want, but they aren't really sure it's the right choice, should they wait and continue to plug away and try to get what they want with the ...oh eff it. What I'm saying is, if I get offers on my book, how do I know who to sign with? I'm confused, excited at the mere fact that someone thinks people will buy books written by me, and terrified to make the wrong choice. So. There it is.
Also, should I even entertain the idea of traveling to Beijing? I love to travel, although I will admit Asia has not really ever interested me with the exception of India. Europe? I'm down. Let's go. Asia? Ehhhhh....not so sure. My son said, "What if they won't let you leave?" I replied, "I really don't think the Chinese government will hold a bunch of American writers hostage..." then I had a horrible thought. Would they like...change what I wrote? Can they do that? Oh Jesus...now we need a lawyer..because...contracts, money...us...not good. Do they do that in China? Will they censor me? I don't want to be censored. To me, censor=bad.

Random thought, feel free to comment, respond, whatever.....do you think Jeff Lewis on "Flipping Out" plumps his top lip? I mean, it's pretty freakin' plump, right? I've done that and it turned out NOTHING like his. In my friend's words, my top lip was "jacked up". It did WONDERS for my self esteem, let me tell you.
Also, along the lines of random thoughts....does anyone really say, "SHUT.THE.FRONT.DOOR" instead of "Shut the eff up" or "Shut the hell up" or simply, "Shut up"? I will throw out a "Shut your pork trap" or "Shut your face", or whatever, but "Shut.The.Front.Door" is a lot of words to convey the fact that you want someone to shut their pie hole. Also, why isn't it, "Shut.The.Back.Door"? Or, how about, "Shut.The.Side.Door", or "Shut.The.Garage.Door"? I've never heard anyone other than Rachel Zoe say the door thing. Plus, I have a niece, and her first name is spelled the same way Rachel Zoe's last name is spelled, and we don't pronounce it like the name "Joe". We pronounce it, "Zoe-eee". That is the correct way to pronounce it. Take note. Rachel, pronounce it correctly, please. It makes me nuts and crazy.
Why does Jeff Lewis wear low top Chuck Taylor's all the time? Is it a fashion statement on his part? Is it the practicality? What? He is very fascinating to me, obviously. I mean, I've mentioned his lips and shoes here. He is also sarcastic as hell and mean as hell, and I adore that. Why? Because I am the same way. I would also tell my housekeeper named "Zoila" that she should "broooosh" my cat everyday after his nap. I would insist she say "brooosh" and tell her I was assisting her with her English. That's pretty mean. However, hearing her tell him to shut his front door cracks my ass up. Only she doesn't say it that way because she probably KNOWS HOW TO PRONOUNCE ZOE.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Paris vu du Ciel

Paris vu du Ciel

Paris

My favorite place in the entire world is Paris. We took our children with us there a few years ago, and although they didn't appreciate it, I was like a drooling moron looking at everything. Everything fascinated me. The streets, the street signs, the shops, the buildings, the art, the different areas of Paris, the big "N" on all the bridges signifying Napoleon, it all captivated me. I hope to retire there when all of my children are either out of college or in graduate school. I've already looked into teaching there, and I would do it right now if I could.

If you've heard that the French are rude, I can honestly say that every single French person we met was beyond polite and helpful. One waiter sat down with us at our table and gave us a quick lesson in how to deal with waiters in Paris. Believe it or not, this is a very valuable lesson. He should charge. The people who worked the desk in our hotel (we always use local instead of chain hotels or we rent apartments when we travel.) was so helpful that she headed off a total meltdown by copying our passport photos for our Metro passes. The stupid photo booths in the metro tunnels DON'T WORK. The staff was always ready to recommend restaurants, and any other thing we needed. Somehow, we still managed to walk into a street riot and get tear gassed, but that's another story. It was an experience I remember every single day, and I cannot wait to go back. And believe me, I shall go back. WALLY. I will. Even if I must go alone, I shall go. I felt (as stupid and cheesy as this sounds), at HOME there.

If you get the opportunity to go to France, take it. I do speak French, so that helped a lot, but none of the rest of my family speaks a word of it. The learned the word "Pardon" because yes, that is just how polite the people were. That was the most often uttered word we heard on the Metro and everywhere else. Plus, where else can you go and watch a very bizarre impromptu puppet show on a subway car? Seriously, the two dudes had clothesline to string across the car, a sheet to hand on the clothesline, puppets, and music. They put on a show. The only people who seemed to watch was my family. We were amazed, enthralled and cracked up .
If you wish to communicate with the locals, try and brush up on some rudimentary French phrases. Learn how to say, "How much is this?" and "Can you please tell me where the rest room is?" Learn how to order off a French menu...learn the names of French food. Learn how to take directions in French. It's not difficult, I promise. If you want to practice, go to the BBC language school website. It's a fabulous resource for usable phrases and words. If you took the usual French in high school in the US, go to that site and brush up. It's worth it.
Advice: Do NOT under any circumstances yell in German at people in Paris. They don't like it. Neither do I, but then I wasn't occupied by the Nazis. My husband speaks no French, but can bark out military orders in German having been stationed in Germany when he was in the US Army. (He is American, amazingly enough). When I got fed up with him telling me I was wrong, I refused to translate, and he would bust out his loud guttural German and it didn't work too well. No matter WHAT he claims, it was not met with cooperation.
Actually, anywhere you travel, make an effort to learn at least SOME of the local language. I have found that America is one of the only countries in the world where being multi-lingual isn't the norm. It should be. Many people in France speak some English, or are fluent. However, if you are in their home, you should at least attempt to speak their language. The same goes for any Spanish speaking country, Italy, Germany...anywhere. Not everyone in the world speaks English, and speaking it LOUDLY and SLOOOOWLY doesn't help. Anyhow, I will list some sites I love about France because I'm selfish, and because I beleive everyone loves what I love, which is a trait common on self-absorbed people.

Avoir un merveilleux week-end , tout le monde !

Saturday, August 14, 2010

OH! I almost forgot!

I'm reading "Eat, Pray, Love" right now, and am wondering how the movie is. I love the book so far and want to emulate that woman. Well, the going to Italy, India and Bali part. Not the freak out and divorce and loss of everything. I've done that already. Let me know how it is.

I can highly recommend "The Other Guys" I thought I'd die laughing. I needed a diaper. I can also recommend "Dinner for Schmucks". Again, a diaper experience.



So, F Bomb Friday. I've had a few. I'm sure I'll have more. Mine yesterday was the fact that it was my first day back at work. I'm not sure about y'all, but I hate being confined in spaces for long lengths of time, and I hate sitting still for any length of time. I'm used to moving around. I'm not a marathon runner like several of my friends, but I don't sit around, usually. Anyhow, I had to do just that yesterday. I have spoken in the past of my red hot hatred of musical theater or movies. Well, yesterday, because I do have someone who is my "boss", I sometimes I have to do what I don't want to do. Such as be a captive audience and listen or watch whatever craptastic show this person likes. And this person LOVES freakin' musical crap. So, we had to watch some scenes from Disney's newest movie. The one about the Princess and the frog or something. We were supposed to take away a profound message. All I got from the clip was that it was sad that the child only wished to make a good pot of gumbo. Dare to dream, sweetcheeks.

I also had put a crapload of work into my classroom, and had my boss come at the end of the day and tell me that quotes from "Alice in Wonderland" were "highly inappropriate" for school. Wha? Huh? WTF? Really? For real? Seriously? Needless to say, I muttered the f-bomb repeatedly under my breath as I was forced to take down a quote. It wasn't profane for the love of God. It was just a quote from the stupid Cheshire Cat. Deal.

As a person with a horribly foul mouth, I work very hard daily to not allow bad words to come out of my mouth at work. I can't allow it to happen. I work with kids. However, yesterday? Yesterday there were no kids in the building. I let the bombs drop. A lot. I have been dropping them ever since.

Now, another f-bomb. No tanning salons in this area have the aromatherapy beds? Why? Everyone freakin' tans. No Aromatherapy and cooling mist? That is bullcrap. Secondly, my eyes are allergic to EVERYTHING. I can't get eyelash extensions because I'm horribly allergic to the glue. I have really long eyelashes naturally, but they are blonde. They aren't as thick as I want, either. I'm sure that Latisse stuff would permanently blind me. However, I am a Botox devotee. If everyone in the world quit Botox, I'd still keep them in business. I like Juvederm, as well. Well, I like them when it doesn't "jack up" my lips, anyhow. Now, here I sit, watching reruns of The Jersey Shore, with my butt cheeks falling asleep. As for The Jersey Shore? Shut up. It's one of those mysteriously awesome things. You need to embrace it if you haven't done so yet.

I saw my chiropractor yesterday, and he cracked me all over the place. My neck got 4 goes...twice facing down, and twice facing up. My back got all sorts of cracks. And even my shoulders got it. He was FABULOUS. I adore my chiropractor. Considering my discs were almost gone and my vertebrae were fusing together, they have really saved me. Pain is almost totally gone and that is enough for me. No more foot long needles in my spine to inject something to slap a bandaid on the pain. Now, we are targeting the actual problem.

My work? I cried for about an hour this morning. I don't cry very easily and very infrequently. I cried. We don't even have students yet. It's going to be a long year, I'm afraid.

Friday, August 13, 2010

I have no clue

This thing is all effed up. I'll try to fix it this weekend. Now....ice on the shoulder.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Thank the Baby Jesus or whoever

I have a hair appointment today. It's been literally MONTHS since I was able to match up schedules with the girl who does my hair. She is a keratin genius. She is unfathomably brilliant with hair. I adore her. Except, so do a lot of other people, which pisses me off.

So, I go back to work in a couple of days, and boy am I excited! (that was sarcasm you detected...you were correct.) I dread it. I need a pedicure, a manicure, it's almost time for a Botox booster and a Juvederm re-do. But last time, on the Juvederm, they screwed up my top lip. I wasn't really aware of this, until a good friend of mine who works for a major high end cosmetic company said to me, "What's up with your lips? They're all jacked up." Ohhh, my good dear friend, Wendy. I will not buy your product for...maybe two weeks because of that insult. Jacked up. My lips. Great.

My Mom adopted that saying because she is anti beauty. She hates that I get Botox and all that. I say Botox saves.

My brother even sneaked it in during Father's day brunch. He was blah blahing about some cop thing and he said, "Plus, you have jacked up lips." Wait. Whah? I don't listen to him with both ears, usually. I just nod and pretend to listen while flipping him off while our parents aren't looking. I also mouth the words "fuck you" to him on a regular basis across the table. I was so busy plotting my next torture that I almost let the "jacked up" comment slide. But if I get ready to say something about his appearance, my Mom asks to speak to me to tell me he is very vain and concerned about his appearance. Bullshit! I'm 44 and female! I have a child going off to college this year, and one next year, and God willing, another in 4 years! I can't even donate my eggs because they are too old! And you are telling me to go easy on my BROTHER WHO IS FOUR YEARS YOUNGER THAN ME? Eff that.

I said something along the lines of "you couldn't find your ass with a map, it's so flat..." and that pretty much shut down the family fun for the day. I don't care. I hate family fun with my family. I'd rather have it with someone else's family. Someone like, oh I don't know...nobody. I'd rather be alone.

I like reading, sleeping, writing...all solitary activities. No team sports for me. No scrapbooking with "the gals" for me. I don't join bookclubs and read particular books and discuss them with people, because I'm sure to disagree with them and think they are morons, and more than likely I'll tell them that, too. Friends? I've had a few. But then again, too few to mention. To be my friend, you have to have a thick skin, and not really care if you see me on a regular basis. You have to have the same sense of humor I do, and think the things I like are awesome and the things I hate are sucky.

And to think, I've been married three times. Wait. Heeeeyyyyyy...could that be the reason? Nahhhhh....

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Hint:

I don't know what is going on with the opening page of this thing. Maybe it's just me. It keeps opening to a post from 2008. To see more recent posts, go to the sidebar >
and click on 2010.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Hell Freezes Over

It's not just the name of an Eagles album...it's what happened sometime between yesterday and about an hour ago. I can now, (THANK YOU DIETIES) get into my classroom to get it ready for the schoolyear. I am not going tonight, much to Sanford's dismay. I will wait until tomorrow or Sunday, although I have to take my niece and daughter both shopping...what the hell....I swear nothing ever happens in the right order.

So, we went and saw my favorite comedienne, Kathy Griffin last night in Austin. I drove. I drive a very large SUV, Sanford drives a much small vehicle. And yet, it must be me who drives and it must be my car. Why? Isn't it obvious? I lived there for almost 10 years almost 16 years ago. Come ON! Keep up! You KNOW nothing has changed in that city since I lived there. Despite the continual construction all over the place, it's all the same. Wait. Except the building where the show was. That wasn't there when I lived there. It was like a huge rodeo coliseum on the banks of the river and as I recall we had to register for classes there in the heat of the late summer and we all thought we'd die of heat stroke. Now it's a fancy pants "performing arts center". I should know this, but I didn't. Here is how it went: We get into car. We start driving. I get to the interstate which is like I don't know, about 30 miles from us...and it was like drugs..as soon as I hit the interstate, I got horribly sleepy. I was shaking my head like a horse does just to wake myself up. Next to me, over in the co-pilot seat, was Sanford...blissfully unaware of my predicament...whistling tunelessly to some nonsene Ice cream truck music in his head. So, I turn on the radio. Loud. We weren't talking anyhow...if you take your eyes off those maniacs on I-35, you're dead. So, I have the radio on trying to wake myself up, and he reaches over and turns it down. You know what that is right there? That is like throwing a gauntlet down. When you turn on the radio in a vehicle and then the other person without a word reaches over and somehow fiddles with it...that is a challenge. So. I reach over and crank it back up. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Sanford was getting annoyed. He kept blowing his nose and clearing his throat REALLY loudly. He was making some gross sounds with his mouth, so I turned it up LOUDER. He hollers, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING????" and I said, "WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU." hehe. He got all flustered and went to reach for the knob to the radio and I slapped his hand. GASP! Yes, I physically slapped his hand. Much like I did my children when they were little. No, no! Don't touch! So, he is looking at me with unadulterated indignance and I decide to take pity on his sad little insane heart. I reach over and turned it down enough so that I could say, "I AM FALLING ASLEEP HERE! WHY ARE YOU BEING A DICK?" and he actually laughed. He laughed. I call him a "dick" and he laughed. Assclown. So, I yell again, "Hey, Dickhead! I'm starving and I'm falling asleep..." and he calmly says, "Why don't you exit and we'll get something and you can wake up?" Whatever. So, we exit and I pulled into a McDonald's which is why my stomach is like Mount Vesuvius today. A few minutes later, we're back on the road and he is happily chomping on a cheeseburger or something. I said, "I want you to watch very carefully how I skillfully guide this large vehicle to the PERFORMING ARTS CENTER. He munched, "mmm..k....chomp chomp, smack smack." I reached into the bag and hand his ass a damned napkin. A few minutes later, we enter Austin proper, and I said, Okay, turn on the stupid assed GPS. So it's on, and it tells us what I already knew...exit at 8th street, turn right on 6th, turn left on Capitol, turn right on Riverside, turn into the stupid assed parking garage. Boom. We're there. Done and done. To get home, reverse the order of operations. I drove home, too. We live in a DIFFERENT CITY than Austin. It's several cities away. Our daughter will be living in Austin in two weeks for school, and he STILL acts like it is a foreign place like Mombasa or something. Do we need to exchange our currency? Do we have the right voltage converters? Do you speak the language, because I don't! Oh my god! What will we do!
We do what we did on our trips overseas. I speak the language to the natives, he follows and grumbles. I make sure we get where we need to go (I can get you anywhere in Paris or London on the Tube or Metro in record time and with the fewest possible changes of trains...try me...unless there are bomb threats like there always seemed to be in London, then all bets are off. Who knows what train you'll take? Somehow, you'll end up where you want to be...)
Hey, that reminds me..you know what we need more of around here? Buskers. Yeah. Buskers. You heard me. I like a good Busker. I will give one my spare change even. Even if they aren't in the designated Busker circles painted on the ground of the London Tube system. I will STILL give them some money. In Paris, it might take a little more, like say....an impromptu puppet show on the train..(which totally happened to us, and I'm not lying.) We have a huge deficit in the Busker department here. On the good side, I've never watched hydraulic doors slam shut in my face as two of my three children plaster themselves against said doors and you can see their panic stricken faces and their mouths are in a huge O as they scream because guess what? They got on the train and we got joslted and now we are separated from two of our children in a very large city in Europe where my children don't speak the language (this was in Paris.) We got them at the next stop. They waited. Smart kids.

Oh well, that is enough random crap for now.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Vanity

Hello to the one person who might be reading this. So glad you could stop by! I'm glad I'm not just typing for no reason.

So, my arm and shoulder are still pretty sore and painful, and I bought this wondrous invention called the TheraCane at my chiropractor. It is awesome. I feel effervescent when I use it. Well, that's not true. At all. It just feels good.

Speaking of effervescent, I had Dom Perignon one time. Only one time. It was quite effervescent but to my (then) untrained palate, tasted like a 3 dollar bottle of Asti Spumanti. It may have even been more effervescent. You know what I DON'T like? Non-effervescent champagne.

I have to go becaue the IKEA catalog just got here, and I'm giddy with excitement over it. Oh, and I have to go to see Kathy Griffin. Can't wait!

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

The School Year Will Simply Have to be Postponed

Here's the deal: the school district, in it's infinite wisdom has decided to rip apart our school and replace some crap. I don't even know what. However, we cannot get into our classrooms and school starts in a few weeks. I don't know about other teachers, but I take a bit of time to get my room the way I want it. Plus, I have a theme, and I have all this junk laying around here waiting to take up to school, AKA: the demolition zone.

People say: "Don't worry, we'll get it done...." Oh REEEEEALLY? How exactly? We aren't allowed in our classrooms! My telepathic or transporting or whatever you call it abilities are not up to snuff at the moment.

And this all reminds me that 1. I freakin' LOVE summer since I became a teacher, and 2. I freakin' LOVE summer. Hot? Bring it. We're in Texas, so it's hot all the time, anyhow. Humid? Fine with me. It's either here or visiting relatives in Florida. Teeny bit humid there.

Which reminds me: I need to travel again. Badly. And I NEED a Birkin! I really am beginning to think this is a necessity. Which proves I'm not in my right mind. Google Hermes Birkin and see whatcha get. Yeah. I know. Insane.

Sanford has been on my case continually about the stupid cell phones. He can't operate anything that was made after the year 1345, so he cannot operate his. He never has been able to. He needs a sundial to strap around his wrist. He thinks answering machines will steal his soul. He finds things like washing new sheets and clothes and towels before they are used to be "weird". He has sideburns like it's still 1973(which it is, in his head). He can't give directions worth a damn. "Proceed approximately 469 yards east to the 200 block of Crazy Street. Turn west at the T intersection of Crazy and Lunatic Avenue. The mall is in the 600 block on the Northsouth side of the roadway." Seriously. Give me a landmark: say something like "It's behind the Jason's Deli" or something like that. Dont' give me block numbers and cardinal directions for the love of Pete. I have a GPS for that, and that damned thing tried to make us turn on the bridge that goes over the Potomac River in D.C. "Turn right...ding ding!" Well, if we had it would have been an epic mistake. Believe me. He was getting on my case about being irresponsible with money so I just wrote the word "EXPENSIVE" on a piece of paper in red crayon and gave it to him and told him to just hold it up in front of his face so I could see the word everytime he saw me. It will save him a lot of talking. It will have as much effect, too. Nutjob.

But, I'm going to see Kathy Griffin tomorrow night! Yay! Open bar after party! Woot! Sanford is my Designated Driver! This means we'll never make it home alive. The show is in Austin and we live about an hour away. We are doomed to circle the Capital of Texas for weeks or until the car runs out of gas because he won't be able to find the freeway. If this happens, send out a search party.

We'll be in the 400 block of Homicide Highway. It T intersects Crazedexcop Road.

Beach Reads

One of my favorite Twitter people has just put up their Beach Reads list. It's great...and summer is winding down! Find out what you should read while smelling the ocean and listening to the seagulls steal your Fritos!

http://www.flashlightworthybooks.com/category/Best-Beach-Reads/126?fromhome=1

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

So Here's the Thing:

My shoulder is slowly killing me. However, I have to get 5 chapters ready to send to an agent. Blessing? YES! Scary as hell? YES!

A couple of things I love:

Kathy Griffin
Ghosthunters
Writing
80s New Wave music
Ice cream
Family
Florida Gators
Spas and all they entail unless it entails me getting slathered with something disgusting and laying on a table and getting showered on a morgue like table. Do my fingernails or toenails or hair or a massage or facial? I'm down. Otherwise, not so much.

A Couple of things I do not love:

Rachel Zoe and her like, project I die.
Lying
Not being able to have an Hermes Birkin right this very minute. I don't think I could talk Wally into $60,000.00 for a purse
Seeing a guy's manly bits while waiting for a massage in the "quiet" room at a spa. ATTENTION DUDES: If you are naked under a robe that opens in the front, please don't sit down and let your legs splay apart like you usually do. You don't have to sit all fancy pants, but PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T SHOW EVERYONE YOUR CASH AND PRIZES!

Okay. Finished for now.

Monday, August 2, 2010

I Take No Pride In This

but it's the truth. I am addicted to the "Real Housewives of New Jersey". I do not want detox, either. I love it. My husband is now addicted, as well. I am so wrapped up in the lives of those women I talk about them all the time. I feel the same about Bethenny from the New York version.

I must say the DC version is looking interesting. There is some girl who claims to have grown up with the Kennedys, some vague European woman who is called a "bitch" on the commercial, but seriously, she was rude saying Americans have no manners. Of course, the kid who responded by calling her a bitch sorta proved her point for her.

Now, it's almost time for me to return to work. How will I do without my daylong marathons? I must now go, because it's time to watch Danielle and Kim G. get in a fight!

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Beginning of Success?

I forgot to tell in my last post:

I have had a response from two agencies for my writing. I am researching them to see which I like. Plus, I have several others I'm waiting on. Two in one week, a few days after submitting, not too bad.

Now, I'm also working on essays for some literary magazines.

Can't Think of a Catchy Title For This One

Okay, so I have had horrible back and neck problems for a few years. I was told it was progressive and not really treatable because of the proximity of the problem to my spinal cord. Pretty much it's agony. I get a spinal block every couple of months, and that is just slapping a band aid on it, and it eventually becomes ineffective. Well, it became ineffective. Out of desperation, I made an appointment with a chiropractor. My Mom always told me they were "quacks" and couldn't do anything. Well, that's a load of crap. (Sorry, Mom.)

They xrayed the hell out of me and did nothing much else the first visit except have me do things the neurologist had me do a million times. (by the way, the x ray machine has something called a "gonad" cover. Tee hee...) I went in to my follow up appointment, and I had an "adjustment", it felt good. I got put on a machine that pulled on my skull, it felt FABULOUS, and I had electrical impulses on my back muscles and shouler muscles. Felt like nothing. I do have to tell you though, my pain is almost entirely GONE after ONE visit. I will be going 3 times a week, and I am looking forward to every single visit. There is my glowing testimonial. It works. That's all I know.

Okay, the weird thing about my first visit: the staff was very nice, very solicitous and professional. After I saw the chiropractor, one of the staff had to xray me. She also had to have me walk with my eyes shut(fell over almost..how embarrassing), I had to close my eyes and march in place with my arms stretched out in front of me. Terribly humiliating. Try doing that in flip flops sometime. I don't care who you are. But then, when it came time to xray me, the lady got all strange. She was telling me what to take off and what to leave on. I'm pretty modest about you know running around naked, but in a doctor's office or massage place, I sorta expect I'm going to have to get naked or partially naked, right? The girl was telling me to remove all clothing from the waist down. I said, "Okay." She said, "You can leave on your shirt and bra." I said, "Okay." She said, "You have to take off your bra, though. You can leave on your shirt." I said, "Wait, what? Leave on or take off the bra?" she said, "Yes." Uhhhh...Okay. I tried again. "So, I basically need to undress completely?" She said, "Well, it depends on what you are comfortable with." I said, "I'm good with whatever...just tell me what I need to do..." She said, "Here you have to put these on.." and she handed me a pair of like athletic stretchy shorts. I said, "so, put these on?" She said, "Yes. If you're comfortable with that." I said, "I'm comfortable with whatever is needed, just tell me." She said, "Okay, take off everything but put these shorts on." I said, "So, naked except for these shorts and my flip flops? I don't really care, but that will look stupid." I said, "Tell ya what, I'll just figure it out and be in there in a minute." She said, "Okay." and left. I took off the bra because of the hooks, I figured the metal was bad in an xray, I don't know. I took off everything from the waist down and put on those horrid shorts, and now that I'm thinking about it....who else's privates have been in those shorts without the benefit of underwear? Jesus! Oh God! Now I'm really scared. What if I get some disease or critter??? I need to talk to them on Monday. Dammit. Shit. Deep breath...okay.

So, my xrays were great. I evidently stripped to the precise degree and now probably have a zoo in my crotch. DAMMIT!

Summary: Horrible back pain that was on it's way to having my vertebrae fusing together...almost entirely gone. Drugs used: none. Needles used: none. Massage and trigger points massaged and triggered, many. Blissful. Skulls put in a machine and pulled up and away from the spine: one. chiropractors work. I couldn't be upright for more than a few minutes before that visit. I skipped my spinal block shot yesterday. I don't have to lay flat on my back with a heating pad now. I do have to take it easy until everything is finished healing, though. Today, the left side (the side I have almost all my problems on) of my face was sore. Like I'd been punched. Weird. Very strange. I speculated that the chiropractor moved bones or something. It's sore like it's healing or something. From right above my left eye, down my left temple, and under the left eye. I've heard that the skull bones can be manipulated because they are fused together not terribly tightly, to allow for movement...I don't know how true that it, but I find it interesting. If you know, let me know.

Currently Reading: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
Some Girls: My Life in a Harem by Jillian Lauren
Marie Antoinette: The Journey by Antonia Fraser
Secrets of the Zohar by Michael Berg

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Ow

PEOPLE! Seriously!!! How am supposed to get an ESSAY from 1370 words to at LEAST 2000 words without saying crap that shouldn't be there? Ugh! I'm not going to marvel at a sunset or the beach or some crap because it doesn't belong in the essay!!!! I have already messed with it so much I want to barf. And I am the ultimate "REWRITER", too. I will edit and cut and add and redo and change words, and make sure everything is PERFECT, but I will NOT add shit for the sake of adding words for a word count!

Well, not today. Maybe tomorrow. But crap, come on, people!

What I'm obsessed with now:

Real Housewives of New Jersey
Bethenny Frankel
Jen Lancaster's books
Sloane Crosley's books
Getting pain relief for my stupid neck and shoulder
Missing my boys
Texting with my boys
dreading the beginning of the new school year...I'll miss my down time
pain relief

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Langston Hughes was the shit.

Let America Be America Again
by Langston Hughes


Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!

Monday, July 12, 2010

IKEA

Wow, how many hours can one person stay in IKEA? Seriously? Since when do I need so much CRAP? We did get some stuff for Kira's dorm, and we picked out Tyler's furniture, but will wait for him to get back to buy it, plus we need to paint his cave. But, Wally totally focused on buying MORE stuff for Kira's dorm. Okay, we have only so much space in a dorm room. He wants it all to match, and we have bought all nice things, and with the exception of the small fridge and flat screen tv she is getting, she is ready. He kept bringing throw pillows and shit. She kept "putting them down BY ACCIDENT" and losing them. I got a wine rack. The two of them didn't realize a "duvet" cover required a "duvet" to go inside of it. I could drop a huge fortune in there, but then we saw a new Spec's Wine and Spirits. Guess what? They carry my favorite wine! Grape Creek Vineyards!!! Cabernet Blanc!!! They were out. Bitches. I bought other stuff. I was out of Kahlua and I got some Bailey's and butterscotch schnapps and perused their selection of stuff I've never heard of. I never knew they made so many different flavored vodkas, and other stuff. And please? TEQUILA CREME???? GAG.

Shrink is as usual amused with my life, and I am on a crapload of medicine, as usual so that I don't do illegal or immoral things. Ugh. Later, taters.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Hey

I am going to be adding tons more to this. I have literally hundreds of entries that I'm working on editing and moving over. One, Wally and I just laughed ourselves sick over. Stay tuned!

Saturday, July 10, 2010

September 2, 2007

September 02, 2007
ETA: After writing this, I purchased probably over 100 of the oil companies products. They are to die for. Not even kidding here.

So, like I've said, I'm a makeup whore. I love junk you buy for your skin and makeup and stuff. Anyhow, I come across a lot of bizarre stuff as a result of my perusal of sites that are makeup/skincare related. I found one today that I really am quite puzzled by. I am not sure if I'm amazed that anyone really swallows this line of bullshit, or if I'm bowled over by intense admiration that anyone would have the cojones to actually attempt and be successful at selling this load of crap. I'm in a quandry, if you will.

However, people ARE buying this crap, and they are paying a pretty penny for it. Not as much as they are paying for La Mer, but still....a...pretty...penny. It's a place that mixes up scents. And bottles them. And gives them spooky gothic names and then gives them the most RIDICULOUS descriptions you've ever seen in your life and sells them to.....to....who? I don't know. I guess kids who are into the Goth scene and who have a lot of extra cash and who want to smell like:

(From the website):

"SHADWELL
Shadwell had turned out to be about five feet high and wore clothes which, no matter what they actually were, always turned up in your short-term memory as an old mackintosh. The old man may have all his own teeth, but only because no-one else could possibly have wanted them; just one of them, placed under the pillow, would have made the Tooth Fairy hand in its wand.

He appeared to live entirely on sweet tea, condensed milk, hand-rolled cigarettes, and a sort of sullen internal energy. Shadwell had a Cause, while he followed with the full resources of his soul and his Pensioner's Concessionary Travel Pass. He believed in it. It powered him like a turbine.

Roll-ups, mildewed raincoat, sweet tea, and condensed milk. "

So....if you wear this particular scent, you smell like handrolled cigarettes, a mildewed raincoat, sweet tea and condensed milk. Isn't that appealing?

Now...I love perfume...GOOD perfume. Actually, the only perfume I've been able to wear and not get a migraine is Hermes Rouge and Hermes Terre (which is a men's scent, but I still wear it because I don't care and it's to die for and you just want to eat it.)
And PEOPLE...SPRAY AND WALK AWAY. Easy. Spritz a tiny bit into the air, walk through the spritz and you are DONE. Don't spray yourself. For the love of God, don't do that to the rest of the people you'll come into contact with for the rest of the day. I guarantee you, you'll cause several to get blinding migraines if you do.

I can also use 100% natural essential oil, neat. But really only Lavender. My sniffer is so sensitive I can smell people come in a movie theater and tell you what fragrance they are wearing and where they are sitting and I'll have to leave to vomit. No lie. And cleaning products are almost worse. If anyone comes within a 5 mile radius of me wearing any Christian Dior Poison incarnation I pass out, and I'm convinced Giorgio is a Satanic plot. Plus, if you like the Poison crap, buy that Glade Potpourri air freshener. It's the same freakin' thing and loads cheaper. Spray the crap out of yourself with it. Live it up.

The only men's fragrance I can stomach (besides the obvious Hermes Terre) is Grey Flannel. It's driven me to lick men's necks. It's irresistible. I also have my own bottle of that. I am convinced it's an aphrodisiac. I think it's the only thing I've ever encountered that is an ACTUAL aphrodisiac, except for Mexican beer in Mexico and then you just have WAY too much and end up either asleep or throwing up or with a migraine. So...yeah. I have no idea how this has turned into a window into my sexual proclivities. I had no idea I HAD any sexual proclivities. But ANYhow...back to that crazy-assed perfume site...

It is huge..it has tons of blends of oils. Some sound interesting, and they have obviously worked quite hard...but who the HELL would want this????

"ROADHOUSE
Truck stop sleaze. Weedy dandelion and hops with a whiff of tobacco and hemp and a swirl of booziness.
.purchase 5ml.
.view cart / check out."

Oh, yes...please! I want to smell like a "truck stop sleaze"! Like Dandelions and beer and tobacco and pot and booze. AWESOME! I am going to get some of that for my daughter. That is what I'm going to do.

Anyhow, here is the website if you wanna check it out for yourself. Some of the stuff...like "Rose Cross" sounds good...but most of it....I dunno.

http://www.blackphoenixalchemylab.com/welcome.html
Currently listening:
The Best Of The Doors
By The Doors
Release date: 08 August, 2006

August 26, 2007

August 26, 2007

Otters

Okay, so awhile back I said "Remind me to tell you about Sanford and the Otters...". But of course since nobody reads this, and it's basically my private diary of obsessive/compulsive thoughts and stream of concisousness....nobody reminded me.

But here is the Sanford/Otter story. We were in a family group therapy session for one of our kids. (separation issues) and the therapist was asking us to all pick a mammal we would be other than a human if we could be any other mammal. Well, I picked an Otter. I love Otters. It just flew out of my mouth before I really had a chance to think, really. But sometimes I think that gives the most honest answer. She asked why....why an Otter? And I said because they are relaxed and playful and seem to just do nothing but swim around and float on their back and eat shellfish. Seems like a good life to me. No responsibilities....nobody expects much of them...nobody yelling at them...just water and food and sleep and play. And they are cute! So....later on...Sanford asked me about it...and I was telling him how much I liked Otters. (I sound totally mentally defiicient right now, I know...but suck it.) And then it occurred to me....Otters live in cold water, yes? Well...that fucks that all up. I do not like to be cold. I LOVE the ocean. The beach...the water. The sand, the sun...but I'm not a cold person. I'm a beach person, but not a cold wet person. Couldn't handle that. It made me uncomfortable and agitated just THINKING about living in cold river water and hanging out on cold wet rocks and getting frozen fish to eat and shit. So, I said, "Well...then an otter that lives in the ocean..."

And then it happened. Sanford did what he does...he began spouting forth FACTS about Otters. I mean..weird assed little known facts about them that most people would never know unless they were ...you know....OTTER KEEPERS at an Aquarium or Zoo or something.

Me: Wait...Otters live where it's cold...huh? Oh...no...I don't like that....

Sanford...Well, actually Otters have a protective layer of fur and blubber much like a whale and therefore...blah blah blah blah blah blah blah ...

Me: What?

Sanford: Well, otters are a mammal that blah blah blah blah blah .....

Me: stunned silence.

Sanford: Still blah blah blahing about otters.

Me: Where did you learn all this stuff about Otters for christ's sake?

Sanford: Huh? Oh, I suppose I saw it on a nature program or read it... and as I was saying, their diets are rich in ..blah blah blahblahblah predatoryblahblabblahblabhlbahblabhalbhablahlalllAAAARRGGHGHGHGHGHGHGH!!!!!!!!


WTF? You can name ANY subject....with the exception of popular culture and he will just sit and babble on and on about it.

Me: Do you think Jesus ever had an Otter?

Sanford: What? Jesus? Otters?
Me: Yeah. You know everything about Jesus. And evidently EVERYTHING about fucking Otters, too....did he like Otters?
Sanford: What are you talking about? Otters aren't in the Middle East....
Me: Prove it.
Sanford: What?
Me: Maybe Buddha liked Otters. What about that? Did he?
Sanford: Huh?
Me: Joseph Smith? He might have married one.
Sanford:.......
Me: Mohammed? What were his views on Otters?
Sanford: I don't..
Me: Shut up. You need a hobby or a job. I forbid you to be retired anymore.


I will have you know that RIGHT NOW he is on YouTube watching Mormon crap!

August 21, 2007

August 21, 2007

Ooohhh La La!

So, I like fashion and makeup and skin care and SHOES and BAGS and SHOES and MAKEUP and BAGS and SHOES and stuff, right? But I don't consider myself to be someone capable of giving anyone a makeover or anything. I think I have good taste and that I'm capable of cleaning myself up to a degree that I can be taken out occasionally. I've been told that I have (AND I FREAKIN' QUOTE) "Exquisite" taste, and also that I am (and if you know me at ALL you'll pee yourself laughing at this one...) I am "elegant". *snort* So. Basically, I KNOW what I'm supposed to do, and what is what..but I also couldn't care less most of the time. Right? Ok.

For instance...today's high fashion ensemble consisted of...lemme think..OH YEAH...we had a day where we could be crappy dressed because we were working in our rooms...so I wore pink Chuck Taylors that are pretty flippin' old, denim capri jeans, a black top that was once a Japanese kimono so it has these awesome crazy sleeves you could hide a family of 12 in, and oh...my socks were "way too obvious and thick" according to my daughter. Basically...that's me. And my boss told me never to wear that shirt to work for real because it falls off my shoulder....you know...a la' "Flashdance". It doesn't fall off on purpose....but I wear one of those bandeau bras or no bra because..hey...I can. Evidently people thought it was a "look". No...it was available and clean and they were taking our pictures today but only from the shoulders up. Face and hair were presentable. Or as good as they get, anyhow.

What this is leading up to is this: I don't give a rip about fashion unless it's something in particular I fixate on......like BAGS or SHOES..or SHAWLS AND SCARVES. When it comes to men's clothing...hell....put it on Josh Bernstein or Clive Owen and that'll do.
HOWEVER....whilst(very English, no?) in England, my daughter and I noticed a fashion trend amongst European males. Please GOD...do not let it catch on in the US.

PLEASE. GOD. DO. NOT. LET. AMERICAN. MALES. START. WEARING. TIGHT.CAPRI. PANTS.

There. I said it. I don't care what anyone thinks. A dude wearing capri pants at ALL is creepy. Bermuda shorts....worn CORRECTLY...totally hot. CAPRI PANTS...VERY ICK. People, the dudes in Europe were wearing the HELL out of Capri pants. And it's not pretty. Or handsome. Or fetching. Or anything good or appealing. Here's why:

1. It shows your spindly, hairy legs. Not good.
2. It shows your spindly hairLESS legs. You are a dude. You should have hairy legs.
3. It shows your package. Please. Ugh. Just......please.
4. Refer to 3.
5. You.Are.A.Male. No Capri Pants for you. Wear shorts or real pants. Trousers...whatever you call them where you live. Capri pants are above your ankle, and form fitting...they aren't cargo shorts...you can't carry your ...well your anything in your Capri pants. Hell...WEAR JEANS, PLEASE. Jesus, Mary and Joseph Schwartz on a Pogo stick, people!

Yes, I know where Capri is. I don't care what the effin' pants are named after. On men, they are "Fugly" pants.

Goodnight.

And OHMYGOD, don't get me started on SPEEDOS!!!!!! WEAR SWIM TRUNKS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Also, if you look like you have a black bathmat on your back.......wear a tshirt whilst enjoying the pleasures of the beach or pool. Be considerate of your fellow HUMAN BEINGS!

ok. i'm finished. for now.

August 12, 2007

August 12, 2007


So. They are back. Evidently, the memo has expired. The Mormons have come back to my house. Now, no offense to Mormons, but I don't want ANYONE coming to my home to sell me anything, including religion. For a long time, the Mormons left us alone. See, wayyyyy back in the day, before I knew Sanford...he attended the Mormon...church...whatever because he was dating some Mormon chick. Anyhow, once they have your name....that's it. Once we married, they kept coming to the door. Well, they didn't know Sanford had married a bonafide Jewess. So, at first I was nice. (ish). I'd tell them we weren't interested. Go away. Please leave. See the "No soliciting" sign? That means you, pink cheeks. Finally, one day...when my youngest child was about 4....they showed up. I answered the door...two very young men were standing there in their short sleeved white shirts, holding their bike helmets. I'm sure I rolled my eyes. I opened the door and one said, "Good morning! Is________home?" and I said, "Nope. And I'm a Jew." As I got ready to shut the door, one of them said, "Well, is there anything we can do for you today?" and so I said, "Sure. You could mow the lawn or vacuum...how's that sound?"
I was met with blank stares. They actually said, "No, that's okay....bye." and left. Yay!

But they returned. Sanford was home. I was not. The thing about Sanford is...he'll invite ANYBODY in. Seriously. He doesn't care what time it is...what state of undress anyone is in....come one, come ALL!!!! And he wants to talk about JESUS! Not because he's a Christian, but because he is curious. He is one of those people who is searching...he would probably be happiest digging around in ancient tombs somewhere. He loves to debate...he loves to discuss and argue.....Faith is not something he is prepared to accept. He wants PROOF. And if you say you believe something, he wants you to really get into it and discuss it with him, and believe me...he has discussed it with some of the most respected minds from almost all religions in the world.....he THRIVES on it. However, most people don't go for that, you know? Don't go tell a sweet old Catholic man that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married....he doesn't wanna think about that...he doesn't wanna hear any of your so-called proof....just leave him alone!
So...anyhow....Sanford LOVES that shit......and one time, the Mormons came when I wasn't here. And Sanford brought them into the house and put them through their paces. He knows EVERYTHING about Joseph Smith and all that jazz. When I got home, he was in our backyard with them. I walked into the kitchen, and I was on my cell phone talking to my Mom, and I gasped..."Huuuuhhhhhh! There are Mormons in my backyard, Mom! What do I do?" and she said, "Call the POLICE!" and then I saw Sanford talking to them. So, I knew they were invited. He was showing them the Maypole and the standing stones he erected for when he practices Earth religions. Our whole backyard is EXTREMELY symbolic. It's just shitting symbolism. Which is cool. I've worked hard on the the gardens, and Sanford puts up signs and plaques and we put in fountains and ponds and fire pits and it's pretty awesome. We were married there. Anyhow, after he got hold of the Mormons and wouldn't let them leave...they never came back! SCORE! Until a few days ago. Someone knocked on our door...and Sanford went to answer it, because I don't answer doors or phones. But he never came back. So, I went and looked, and my daughter and the youngest boy were with me, and I actually accidently shrieked out : "MORMONS!" and my son said, "There's morons out there?" and my daughter said, "Well, yeah, but that's not what she said....why is Dad talking to Mormons?"
And I had to go sit down and calm down because I was pissed. So, I told the kids about their Dad's previous foray into Mormonism. My son said, "Where's my kippah? I 'll wear it outside and they'll go away!" I told him his kippah is not a costume to be worn to scare people. Little fart. So then, we decided the best course of action was for me to go offer the boys a beer. Hell, a coke or coffee would be as bad, probably. Anyhow, I used going to get the mail as my excuse, but when I flung the front door open, the two fresh-faced Mormon boys jumped ten feet in the air and Sanford did, too. I walked out, stood in the middle of them and said,

"Do these dudes know I'm a Jew and our kids are Jews?" and then I looked at the Mormon kids and their mouths were open and one of them ACTUALLY SAID: and I shit you not...."EWWWWW she's a JEW?" and I said, "Yup. Shalom" and Sanford started shifting from foot to foot and he said, "um, no....I was telling them about....." and I stalked off to the mailbox. As I stalked back up the walk, I said, "If you don't come back into the house VERY SOON, I'll come out wailing the Shema."

And I went back in. Well, he was out there another 5 or so minutes. You'd think when people see a mezuzah on a door frame...they'd at least WONDER what it was....and not freakin' TRY TO CONVERT THE JEWS INSIDE. So, while we were in the house waiting so I could rip Sanford a new one, my son said, "So, Mom....what is it called when they try to drown you?" And it took me a minute but I said, "You mean getting baptised?" and he said, "Is that when you get in water?" and I said, "Yeah..I think you can just get it sprinkled on your head, though...I'm not sure. I don't know....you're not Baptised, neither is your sister or brother..." and then he said...

"Puh! I KNOW! I EAT MEAT!" My daughter and I just stared at him a minute. Then we said, "What?" He said, "I know I'm not baptised...I eat meat! I'm a carnivore! Jeez!!!!!"

So, we had to figure out what the HELL he was talking about. He somehow had baptism and vegetarianism mixed up in his mind. Then you throw Kosher in there, and he was WAY mixed up.

Which reminds me of something else he said. We were talking about the merits of his sibling's middle school vs. the middle school he'll be attending. Their middle school required uniforms. His does not. As parents we liked the uniforms. The kids hated the uniforms. We were talking about this...and my youngest son's opinion of uniforms was this..."They are stupid! Everyone looks alike!"

He is my happy child. Thank God. He also decided a few years ago that Sanford was African American. (He isn't. Although his skin is quite "swarthy" as my mother says...) My son went around telling everyone his Dad is African American. Why? Because it was February. My son was in Kindergarten and it was African American history month. He wanted to be part of the celebration. He.is.one.of.a.kind. Sanford is causasian and part of his mother's family was from Portugal wayyyyyyyy back a long time ago. His skin is just sort of always tanned looking.....some people think he is Hawaiian or Samoan...but he isn't. He is 100% crazy, though.

And me and my kids have not been baptised. We eat meat. Oh! And I went to a Baptist University! I'm a freakin' UN.

August 9, 2007

August 09, 2007

Smart guys

So, I'm sorta back at work, now. Ayhow, me going back to work entails a lot of prep work. I have to do a lot of frou frou decorating and thinking and reflecting and planning, right? So... I was at this place my place of employment has that has supplies for us...it is chock full of nifty stuff people like me get really excited over...paper, laminating machines....die cuts....all sorts of stuff.

Anyhow, I was in there doing some stuff, and one of the people who works at that place comes up to me. She is really nice...but very chit chatty. Small talky. And as we all know...I don't like small-talk. So...I am pretty much just making polite noises, right? She is staring off into the distance yapping away. I am getting my work done, making noises like..."Yeahhhhhh....really? Woooowwwww....that's so true.....for sure.....uh huhhhhhh......mmmmmmmhmmmmmmm...no kidding......right?"
And then she goes..."Hey! What's that on your shirt?" and I almost freak out because I assumed something foreign and bad was on my shirt...so I jump and start tugging on my shirt and hopping around..."Whu? Where!?!?" and she grabs me...(no shit) by the boobs and goes..."hang on..." and so I get still, because when someone you barely knows grabs your boobs...you tend to sorta slow down because well...they are grabbing your tatas....

So, I was wearing a black tshirt with this glow in the dark image of Einstein on it..and it has some quote of his on it about dissolving into nature...right? I am a big fan of Einstein. I have an itty bitty bit of the hots for him. Even those pictures of him with his non-hairy old legs and strangely lady-like ankle strap high heel sandals with shorts on. Even then. Anyhow, I've read a lot about him and come to the conclusion that he was a bit of a misogynist...(my own opinion), but that's neither here nor there.

So, boob grabbing woman goes..."Oh...it's Einstein." only she is German and she says it with a "ssschhhh" sound in the middle...which makes me slightly uncomfortable for some reason. I say "Oh, yeah....it glows in the dark!" (Like an idiot would do....I holler "It glows in the dark!") And then she keeps staring at my shirt...... in silence. And I sorta start shuffling my feet. Because it's kind of unpleasant to have a person you don't know staring at your shirt. Intently. It's like she checked out while she was staring at my shirt and left her body standing there. And it's totally quiet.

But then....it happens. My moment of nirvana.....one of the delicious moments I live for. One of the moments that gives me a "catch phrase" that I use repeatedly for days, weeks...months....NAY...years to come.

She says.."Wow...he was a smart guy."


YES!!!!!!!!!! Oh, I almost dance a jig of joy. "He was a smart guy!"

What does one say to that? How does one respond?

I say: "Yeah. He was. Pretty smart."

And she sighs and turns away. All dejected.

She is sad. Einstein died. He was a smart guy. He died like...before she was BORN..but still.

Ahhhh...life.....'tis good.

August 3, 2007

August 03, 2007

Here Comes Bob!

So, today Sanford and I went to Ikea to get some stuff for my work. Anyhow, once you are in THAT place, it's like a maze. Like Harrod's was only with a Scandinavian feel. So, I find the PERFECT area rug I want, and damned if the Ikea near us doesn't have it. Dipshits. It looks like the labyrinth at Chartres in France. And one of the posters I put up every year is a picture of the Chartres labyrinth and it says "Start Where You Are"...and so...yeah. So...I got a big assed plain red area rug...it will be fine, but I really liked that other one. And I got some other crap I probably won't need, but seemed nifty.

Then...when I got home I went online to their site, and there is that labyrinth rug! Only guess what..you can't buy it online. You can only go buy it at their stores...so it says to check a location to see if they have it in stock. I check the location near me...no....they don't have it. No shit. So, I check .....ohhhhhh the next nearest one...which is Houston. Which is not close to me, but is in the same state. They don't have it. I check every Texas location. No Texas location has it. So we can just suck it.
So, Sanford goes: "Hey...check San Diego." I said, "Why?" He said, "I bet NOBODY HAS THAT FREAKIN' RUG." I thought: "He's probably RIGHT!" So, I started checking locations.....I finally found one...in Schaumburg, Illinois. Which pissed me RIGHT off.
So, then Sanford said, "Hey...so they should SEND the one in Illinois to OUR Ikea so we can go buy it. Right?"

Right. That makes sense. Yes? Yes. So, I start looking around for a way to request this service. I go to their online help lady. She is freaky as hell. Her name is "Anna". She was no goddamned help, I'll tell you that right now. She made inappropriate faces at me as I typed questions and ended up sending me to pages about how freakin' easy it is to assemble Ikea furniture. Great...thanks, Anna. Go back to suckin' on the Vodka, now. Sorry to have disturbed you. I click on "Customer Service", I get their effin' "FAQs" again. I click on "FAQs" I get the damned "FAQs". I actually DID read the "FAQs" and NO..none of them were my question. So, Sanford is sitting there telling me: "Click there..no there...ugh...not THERE...there!" and I finally told him, "You are exceptionally annoying right now..plus it smells like something is dead in your mouth...please go away before I get testy."
So, by the time I found the mother effin' phone number to the actual physical STORE...I decided that rug sucks ass and I do NOT want it anymore. Thank you, but no thank you Ikea and I don't care if I never see sleek, modular shelving that appears to be floating in the air or umlauts ever again.

BUT! There is a PLUS to all of this!!! Even thought I woke up and got dressed and left my bed for naught today.....and I was polite and did not harm anyone.....and it got me absolutely NOWHERE.....AND...AND...I did the effin' goddamned DRIVING!!!!!!!! Even though all of that .......

As we rounded one of the corners in our subdivision...I see this big panel van parked on the street....it was black. On the front on top in bright yellow letters...it said,

"HERE COMES BOB!" Since I was driving, I could sit at the stop sign and stare at that as long as I wanted to. There was nobody behind me or anything, so don't say.."But what about the people behind you?" Plus, they could have just sucked it, anyhow. But I was sitting there, and I see this van, and Sanford is sitting in the passenger seat and he is babbling on about some random crap...(remind me to tell you about the Otter stuff...) and so I interrupt and holler, "HERE COMES BOB!" and Sanford stops and looks and goes.."Oh yeah...THAT guy.....he lived near me YEARS ago...over on...blah blah blah blah blah....wah wah wah...."

and then I notice on the front bumper in bright yellow....Oh this is DELIGHTFUL, people.....simply SCRUMPTIOUS....
in bright yellow letters...on the front bumper under the grill...it says....."GLASS ON WHEELS". allow me to just sit here a moment and relive the joy.......

Sanford is still monotonously talking like the grownups in Charlie Brown cartoons...and I holler..."GLASS ON WHEELS! Are you kidding ME?!?!?! I am going to get some black paint! You said you know where Bob lives? Kick Ass! I am going to paint out the "G" and the "L" in the word "Glass"....oh yes! Sometimes God smiles on me! Times like this....can't you feel Him just enfolding us in His arms? He just gave us a little kiss on the head!" So...since I'm still sitting at the stop sign and planning on an evening of light vandalism...Sanford says..."You are NOT going to paint Bob's van!"
Me: What, he sells glass..huh? Glass on wheels! Not for long! He's gonna be ASS on wheels....hehehehheheh...

So, as we drive past Bob's van...Sanford is severely berating me...and telling me how he won't allow me to do that, and do I realize it's illegal and it would be not only vandalism but trespassing, blah blah and legal sounding crap....once a cop always a cop...whatEVer....he gave me the Texas Criminal code violations like he did when I showed our daughter how to make prank phone calls. SO no fun. So, he won't tell me where Bob LIVES. Evidently, Bob keeps his van at HOME. Because he caught me looking up glass companies in the phone book. I didn't get the name of Bob's company, but I can tell you that it isn't "Glass on Wheels". I checked.

July 31, 2007

July 31, 2007

America....Eff Yeah!
So, I've been thinking about contributions America has made to civilization in general. Here are a few...and feel free to add to the list:

1. Peace-keeping(well...pre Bush administration..)- we have..until recently...generally only fought wars of self-defense and the defense of liberty.

2. Religious tolerance-this is self-explanatory.

3. The development of manhood suffrage-again...it took awhile...but our country did it.

4. The welcoming of newcomers-there is a reason people are beating down our doors to get in..be it legally or illegally.

5. The diffusion of wellbeing-No other country has such a large, well-to-do MIDDLE class. Most other countries middle class is struggling quite a bit more than ours is.

6. The Polio vaccine.

7. The development of the penicillin vaccine.

8. The bailing out of the entire world in WWII. The blood of our soldiers. It if weren't for us, let's face it: England, France and the rest of Europe would be speaking German now.

9. The entertainment industry. The entire world depends on the United States for their entertainment trends, etc. This may seem frivolous, but it's true.

10. Computers

11. Television

12. Rock and Roll

13. And just in case that isn't enough..there is a song that sums it all up beautifully:

"America: Fuck YEAH!" by Trey Parker (FYI: ANY OFFENSIVE PARTS ARE NOT ENDORSED BY ME, EVEN IF I LAUGHED, I FELT GUILTY AND VOMITED AFTERWARDS..but seriously, Google this song and laugh your ass off.)

America...
America...
America, FUCK YEAH!
Coming again, to save the mother fucking day yeah,
America, FUCK YEAH!
Freedom is the only way yeah,
Terrorist your game is through cause now you have to answer too,
America, FUCK YEAH!
So lick my butt, and suck on my balls,
America, FUCK YEAH!
What you going to do when we come for you now,
it's the dream that we all share; it's the hope for tomorrow

FUCK YEAH!

McDonalds, FUCK YEAH!
Wal-Mart, FUCK YEAH!
The Gap, FUCK YEAH!
Baseball, FUCK YEAH!
NFL, FUCK, YEAH!
Rock and roll, FUCK YEAH!
The Internet, FUCK YEAH!
Slavery, FUCK YEAH!(see above where I said I didn't endorse)

FUCK YEAH!

Starbucks, FUCK YEAH!
Disney world, FUCK YEAH!
Porno, FUCK YEAH!
Valium, FUCK YEAH!
Reeboks, FUCK YEAH!
Fake Tits, FUCK YEAH!
Sushi, FUCK YEAH!
Taco Bell, FUCK YEAH!
Rodeos, FUCK YEAH!
Bed bath and beyond (Fuck yeah, Fuck yeah)

Liberty, FUCK YEAH!
White Slips, FUCK YEAH!
The Alamo, FUCK YEAH!
Band-aids, FUCK YEAH!
Las Vegas, FUCK YEAH!
Christmas, FUCK YEAH!
Immigrants, FUCK YEAH!
Popeye, FUCK YEAH!
Democrats, FUCK YEAH!
Republicans (republicans)
(fuck yeah, fuck yeah)this is almost a whisper..hehehh
Sportsmanship
Books
---------------------------------------------------------------------


You are welcome, World.

Love, America.

July 31, 2007

July 31, 2007

I love me some protestin'!

So. Harrod's. Not so great. Right outside of Harrod's, though....big assed protest going on. Now in Paris, we got involved in a protest, and it was totally inadvertent. We thought it was a street festival. (shut up....you hear drumming, you see dirty students smiling and dancing....) Anyhow, in THAT protest, we got tear-gassed, yes, with our children. I didn't want a repeat of that, but let's face it...the cops in London don't really have much ability to do much. They can drive their itty bitty cars insanely fast through crowded intersections and maybe throw their billyclub at you...but other than that....if one told me to freeze....I'd run like hell. Because, it's gonna be a toss-up to see who is the fastest runner...no guns will be blazing.
Anyhow...so when we went into Harrod's there were a few people outside holding signs saying stuff about "Say NO to Fur!" and things like that. I pushed past them and we went inside. Whatever. Don't get in my way....when we were vomited back out onto the pavement a few hours later...the protest had grown quite a bit, and now it had people dressed up in animal costumes. There was a HUGE ASSED FOX who kept shoving pamphlets at me. I don't want a pamphlet. Ever. If I want your pamphlet, I'll come up to you and say, "Excuse me, may I have a pamphlet, please?" If you are dressed up in a costume, I will not speak to you or otherwise acknowledge you at all. Not even in Disneyworld. People in animal suits give me the heebie jeebies.
So, Mr. Fox-man kept shoving his pamphlets at me and I was saying "No thank you! No THANK YOU..NO THANK YOU!" and he was like THRUSTING them at me with his face just that never changing leering Fox face....and his arm kept jumping out at me with his Fox paw full of damned pamphlets.....I finally hollered: "I have a mink coat, OKAY?!??!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"
My Mom and daughter were behind me, and our destination was the tube stop near Harrod's. We were having difficulty getting there because of the Man/Fox. So, when I finally hollered at him...(and it was so loud out there that my yelling wasn't noticed...) he stepped aside and I started walking past him. There were people sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, all sorts of people dressed up like baby seals and ferrets and of course the fox and whatever else with fur they could think of...it was bizarre. So, I start to walk, and I SHIT YOU NOT...that freakin' assed dipshit fox tripped me. I don't know how, and I cannot prove it. But down I went. Fucking Fox. What an asshole.
So, I say "go on a Fox hunt". Buy fox fur coats. Find the jackass who was forcing his pamphlets on people outside Harrod's. Beat his ass. Or her ass. Whichever it may be. I was down on that filthy sidewalk outside that nightmare disco palace/department store surrounded by humans dressed as furry critters chanting about no fur.

The tear gas was WAY better.
Currently listening:
Weird Revolution

July 30, 2007

July 30, 2007

A vague smell of poop.

So. Still jet-lagged. Punchy...giddy. Call it what you will, but I am effed up.

Let's see....what else can I tell about the trip from hell? "Why from hell?" you ask...
Well...1. We took my Mom, and I actually thought it could go smoothly, but what an idiot I am.
and
2. We took my Mom.

Other than that....everything is ten times more expensive than you think it will be, and there is a vague smell of poop everywhere. In Paris there was a vague smell of liverwurst everywhere...in London, there is a vague smell of poop underlying everything. Even under the smell of Indian cooking....poop. Not dog poop, not cat poop (now that I am thinking about it, I did not see ONE SINGLE CAT IN ENGLAND...spooky)..but HUMAN poop.

The Indian food is awesome. Truly. It's EVERYwhere..but it's really good. Since I inherited the "gift" of mimicry from my father, I ended up talking like whoever was around. Only louder, and I made everything sound dirty.
For example....we were on the Underground and one of the stops is "Clapham" something or another. I began talking to my Mom in a very loud Cockney or "Norf" London accent. Hell, I don't know where it was from...but half those people don't pronounce their "th"s. Anyhow, I was saying stuff like: "Fred came 'ome late the uv'er night, 'e did....'is pecker is right full of the Clapham....'e won't be tuchin' me anytime soon, 'aye can tell ye that..." Anyhow, it was something to amuse me and pass the time and it mortified my Mother but made her laugh, too. So...."Clapham". Don't catch the "Clapham". "Ohhhh it'll mortify ye, it will."

OH MY GOD. HARROD'S. What A NIGHTMARE! And people, I shop. But Harrod's is too, too horrid for words. It is ...well....if you've never been there....let me see if I can describe it to you....Harrod's is like a very large, multi-level disco in Mexico in the 80's. Only all the lights are ON. It is set up so that you get lost. And from what I could TELL, and I might be WRONG...I probably AM..but all I found was ONE entrance/exit. There were guards allowing people in and out. It was mass chaos. For such a big assed place, they were sorely lacking in restrooms...OH EXCUSE ME....LUXURY LADIES' WASHROOMS.. (whattheFUCKever)....The food halls were like very crowded, gaudily decorated grocery stores. In fact, all of it was gaudy. The Egyptian Room was enough to make you puke. Then there were "The Rooms of Luxury". I think they were actually the maze entrance so that you got good and goddamned lost. There were plasma screens lining the escalators and they were all tuned to "Al Jazheera" or however it's spelled. I thought my Mother would come unHINGED. It is so crowded that you are barely shuffling at times...much like a very crowded nightclub in the 80s. The music is so loud you cannot think. Very much like a nightclub. The overpowering odors from the perfume departments is everywhere. We did have tea in one of the bazillion restaurants inside Harrod's, though. We had to sit the hell down and breathe. Tea with scones/jam and cream was over 100 bucks.
If fire ever breaks out in that place, it's going to be carnage the likes of which we've not seen in a very long while. And Agent Provocateur and La Perla will lose millions of pounds worth of bras and thongs that nobody is buying. Everyone is TOUCHING them to see what an 800 GBP bra feels like..but nobody is buying it.

Oh, I spotted some celebrities. Remember Denise Austin? The exercise guru chick? She totally cut in front of me in line at the Tower of London. I was about to throw down with her then I realized who she was and I said "Are you Denise Austin?" and she sort of furtively looked around and said "Well...yes..." and I said, "Oh. Well I don't want to bother you...I did your pregnancy exercise video all through my 2nd pregnancy..." and her daughter (who looks just like her but with dark hair) smiled and said, "Oh it's ok...." then they totally got in front of us. Cutters. She is super short like me. I assumed she was taller.

Then I could almost swear...ALMOST SWEAR TO GOD that I saw Ben Affleck who I don't even like at a tube station. If it wasn't him, it was a twin....

Then in Covent Garden we saw some older dude, who I can't even remember now. But I said, "Hey, isn't that_________?" and my Mom and daughter both said "Yeah!" but now I can't even remember who it was. Oh well. But Denise Austin WAY cut in line.
I don't look for celebrities...I usually end up in altercations with them. Then someone will tell me who they are..but I am too pissed to care...because they cut in front of me in line or something. I'm sorry, but you wait your Pilates toned ass in line like everyone else, Ms. Austin!

But you know those guards who wear the tall fuzzy hats? The ones people are always trying to get to laugh or whatever? My Mom told one who was JUST going on duty at Windsor Castle..."Oh...you are SOOOO handsome!" (what the HELL?!?!?!?) and he freaking blushed and said "Thank you." So they can be bought, people. What had gotten into my mother, I do not know. He looked exactly like every other dude in the red uniform with the fuzzy hat. And my Mom was evidently trying to score... I don't know.

Sanford asked the docents or volunteers or whatever they are at Windsor inane questions like: "Do the airplanes from Heathrow bother the Queen when she is here?"

Oh.My.God. Like she is going to call down to 89 year old Mildred the volunteer who stands in the doorway to the King's Closet and say "Oh, I say Mildred....the airplanes are so bothersome....do call Heathrow and have them ground all flights for the duration of my stay at Windsor...pip pip! " Good Lord.

Sanford fell out of bed 2 times whilst we were there. He fell out of the bed, and knocked over the bedside table, the lamp and two vases. He wears a breathing mask because he has sleep apnea...so he was laying on the floor buck naked with a breathing mask on. I had to wake him up to make him get back in bed. Freak. Middle of the night I hear *Crash* "Grunt"...so I look over and he is gone. I look over the edge of his side of the bed...and there he is asleep on the floor amidst the wreckage of the nightstand. I prod him and say "Hey!"
Sanford: "Uh"
Me: "What the hell? Are you okay?"
Sanford: "Uh?"
Me: "You fell out of the bed...get back in bed."
Sanford: "Uh."

In all fairness, he is used to a king sized bed, and were in a teeny tiny double bed...but crap! Two times?!?!?!?!?!

My Mom fell out of bed once.

I fell down the stairs of the flat we rented. Just the last 3 or 4 steps and it was the middle of the night and yes it hurt and I felt like a moron.

My Mom was convinced the flat was haunted. I think we are just all idiots.

OH MY GOSH! Remind me to tell you about the protest going on outside of Harrod's!!!! It gets worse and worse!