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
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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!
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!
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