I kill me. I cannot believe that people are actually rating the fried butter balls. I knew they were the topic of several blogs, but this is too much!
My heartfelt thanks go out to the person who posted on 12/28/07. Thanks for pointing out the (to me) glaringly obvious. :)
http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/my_recipe_box/review/0,1973,FOOD_9919_34925,00.html
Here is a link to how it all happened...
http://poyju.blogspot.com/2007/04/deep-fried-butter-balls.html
Sunday, December 30, 2007
A Year in Review
While I could list everything significant that happened to me this year, instead I'm going to give the Reader's Digest condensed version.
I've had some shake-you-to-the-core things happen this year. Mostly by my own doing. I refuse to look at these events as something bad. Everything happens for a reason, right? I believe this is where faith comes in. Instead, I'm going to look at them as lessons I needed to learn. And I'm not going to pass up the opportunity to learn from them.
I don't believe in New Year's resolutions. I feel they are lofty goals that are set at the begining of the year that most people fail in achieving. However, I do believe in resolutions when they impart change. And my resolve to make changes for my life is absolute.
I no longer wish to be the person I have become. I don't want to make a resolution to change and hope that I can make it last. I am going to make a lifestyle change and make it last. Quite frankly, I believe that I'm stubborn enough to do it.
Even if I'm not, I'm am surrounded by more than my fair share of family and friends who truly love me and will not let me fail (no matter how hard I try).
Considering all that is bad in the world, I'm one of the most blessed people drawing breath.
I have a job.
I have a roof over my head.
I have a daughter that is a constant source of joy.
I have family and friends who love me.
I'm healthy.
What on Earth could I possibly have to complain about? While I don't have a huge house or inflated bank account, I am truly rich in its most humble definition.
I wish everyone who reads this to have a healthy, safe and prosperous 2008.
I've had some shake-you-to-the-core things happen this year. Mostly by my own doing. I refuse to look at these events as something bad. Everything happens for a reason, right? I believe this is where faith comes in. Instead, I'm going to look at them as lessons I needed to learn. And I'm not going to pass up the opportunity to learn from them.
I don't believe in New Year's resolutions. I feel they are lofty goals that are set at the begining of the year that most people fail in achieving. However, I do believe in resolutions when they impart change. And my resolve to make changes for my life is absolute.
I no longer wish to be the person I have become. I don't want to make a resolution to change and hope that I can make it last. I am going to make a lifestyle change and make it last. Quite frankly, I believe that I'm stubborn enough to do it.
Even if I'm not, I'm am surrounded by more than my fair share of family and friends who truly love me and will not let me fail (no matter how hard I try).
Considering all that is bad in the world, I'm one of the most blessed people drawing breath.
I have a job.
I have a roof over my head.
I have a daughter that is a constant source of joy.
I have family and friends who love me.
I'm healthy.
What on Earth could I possibly have to complain about? While I don't have a huge house or inflated bank account, I am truly rich in its most humble definition.
I wish everyone who reads this to have a healthy, safe and prosperous 2008.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
My Angel
I have my very own Christmas angel. My daughter. She puts so much thought into what she gets people for Christmas. Nothing over the top, just something she heard they might like or need.
I've had the same watch for 10 years. It was a gift from my dad. I told him that I wanted a simple watch with a leather strap. Dad got me a Tigger watch with a leather strap. I have no idea why. Maybe I remind him of Tigger...who knows.
Anyway, the strap on my watch was starting to show some wear and I mentioned that maybe I'd go to Wal-Mart and get a new one after Christmas. I don't wear jewlery very often and I didn't want to spend a lot of money on a new watch. I'm not kind to watches and sunglasses. They don't last long with this chick. And, I've never been a slave to fashion. I just don't feel the need. I've never really followed fads or got caught up in building my wardrobe from just one store. Don't get me wrong, I like to look nice and appreciate "pretty" things as much as the next girl. So, really as long as it didn't have a cartoon character on the face or was the size of a Volkswagen, I was good.
My baby girl got me a watch for Christmas. A very simple silver watch. I squealed when I opened it and said, "It's a big girls watch!" (my mom always had a simple silver watch on her wrist. I always thought how grown up and feminine she looked wearing that watch. I guess that's where that statement came from).
It's beautiful and I love it. And, I promise to take care of it forever. It's not so much the watch that made this gift so special to me. But, the thought and care my daughter put in selecting it. She's beautiful and I love her, too.
Merry Christmas, baby.
I've had the same watch for 10 years. It was a gift from my dad. I told him that I wanted a simple watch with a leather strap. Dad got me a Tigger watch with a leather strap. I have no idea why. Maybe I remind him of Tigger...who knows.
Anyway, the strap on my watch was starting to show some wear and I mentioned that maybe I'd go to Wal-Mart and get a new one after Christmas. I don't wear jewlery very often and I didn't want to spend a lot of money on a new watch. I'm not kind to watches and sunglasses. They don't last long with this chick. And, I've never been a slave to fashion. I just don't feel the need. I've never really followed fads or got caught up in building my wardrobe from just one store. Don't get me wrong, I like to look nice and appreciate "pretty" things as much as the next girl. So, really as long as it didn't have a cartoon character on the face or was the size of a Volkswagen, I was good.
My baby girl got me a watch for Christmas. A very simple silver watch. I squealed when I opened it and said, "It's a big girls watch!" (my mom always had a simple silver watch on her wrist. I always thought how grown up and feminine she looked wearing that watch. I guess that's where that statement came from).
It's beautiful and I love it. And, I promise to take care of it forever. It's not so much the watch that made this gift so special to me. But, the thought and care my daughter put in selecting it. She's beautiful and I love her, too.
Merry Christmas, baby.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Hallelujah! Holy Shit! Where's the Tylenol?
Regardless of personal beliefs about Christmas, religon or Santa Claus, this is the season of perpetual hope and kindness. So, along that vein I challenge everyone who reads my blog to help. Whether you donate your time and money to a charity, secretly slip someone some money, feed someone who is hungry or just give someone you love that overdue hug and tell them how happy you are that they're in your life....just help. We're all in this together. Don't help because you're looking for something in return. Just help because you can.
Also, I hope you enjoyed reading my blog and it made you smile and laugh. If it didn't, watch Christmas Vacation, Elf or Love Actually. I promise you'll at least grimace. :-)
Happy Holidays!
Also, I hope you enjoyed reading my blog and it made you smile and laugh. If it didn't, watch Christmas Vacation, Elf or Love Actually. I promise you'll at least grimace. :-)
Happy Holidays!
Friday, December 21, 2007
Random Acts of Christmas Kindness
It warms my heart to read stories like this. I hope the random strangers who read this blog are inspired to join in this conspiracy of love...
Secret Santa rides again in Kansas City
By MARIA SUDEKUM FISHER, Associated Press Writer 4 minutes ago
Susan Dahl had spent four months homeless in Colorado and just been on a harrowing 10-hour bus trip through sleet and snow. Hungry and broke, all she wanted to do was get back to family in Minnesota.
That's when a tall man in a red coat and red hat sat next to her at the downtown bus station, talked to her quietly and then slipped her $100 on that recent December afternoon.
The man was doing the work of Larry Stewart, Kansas City's original Secret Santa who anonymously wandered city streets doling out $100 bills to anyone who looked like they needed it. Stewart died of cancer at age 58 earlier this year, but his legacy lives on.
"He said `Here's a $100 bill ... and this is in memory of Larry Stewart,'" said Dahl, 56.
During about a quarter century, Stewart quietly gave out more than $1.3 million to people in laundromats, diners, bus stations, shelters and thrift stores, saying it was his way of giving back at Christmas for all the wealth and generosity he had received in his lifetime.
For years, Stewart did not want his name known or want thanks or applause, but last December he acknowledged who he was and used his last few months while battling cancer to press his message of kindness toward others. He even trained some friends in the ways of Secret Santa.
This Christmas, a friend who told Stewart in the hospital that he would carry on for him is out on the streets, handing out $100 bills, each one stamped with "Larry Stewart, Secret Santa."
Between Kansas City and several other cities this Christmas, the new Secret Santa will give away $75,000 of his own money, mostly in $100 bills.
"I didn't want to be a Secret Santa," said the man, a business consultant who lives in the Kansas City area. "I wanted to give Larry money. But last year, he said I had to hand it out myself. So I did, and I got hooked."
This new Secret Santa talks about Larry Stewart to just about everyone he encounters. "Have you ever heard of a man named Larry Stewart?" he asks before handing out $100 or more.
Depending on who he's talking to, the new Secret Santa might say Stewart was a man who believed in making people happy by giving them money they didn't have to ask for, apply for or wait in line for.
"There was this fella named Larry Stewart," he tells a man in the bus station. "He was an old friend of mine. He was called Secret Santa, and every year he would find a few people who might need a little money and he would ask that you pass on the kindness."
People respond differently to the gesture. Some cry. Some scream. A rare few even say "No thanks."
Others take the money and offer their own gifts. like Robert Young, who was homeless and had only 20 cents in his pocket. When Secret Santa gave him $200, Young, 50, took out an old notebook and ripped out a song he had written.
"It's yours now," he told Secret Santa, who thanked Young, and carefully tucked the pages into his pocket.
The new Secret Santa has also started a Web site, and is trying to recruit other Secret Santas across the country. "Larry's dream was for a Secret Santa in every city," Kansas City's Santa said.
There are now a couple apprentices, with more candidates turning up all the time. But, he says, you don't have to be willing to hand out money to be a Secret Santa.
"Anyone can be a Secret Santa," he says. "You don't have to give away $100. You can give away kindnes. Help someone."
___
On the Net:
http://www.secretsantaworld.net/
Secret Santa rides again in Kansas City
By MARIA SUDEKUM FISHER, Associated Press Writer 4 minutes ago
Susan Dahl had spent four months homeless in Colorado and just been on a harrowing 10-hour bus trip through sleet and snow. Hungry and broke, all she wanted to do was get back to family in Minnesota.
That's when a tall man in a red coat and red hat sat next to her at the downtown bus station, talked to her quietly and then slipped her $100 on that recent December afternoon.
The man was doing the work of Larry Stewart, Kansas City's original Secret Santa who anonymously wandered city streets doling out $100 bills to anyone who looked like they needed it. Stewart died of cancer at age 58 earlier this year, but his legacy lives on.
"He said `Here's a $100 bill ... and this is in memory of Larry Stewart,'" said Dahl, 56.
During about a quarter century, Stewart quietly gave out more than $1.3 million to people in laundromats, diners, bus stations, shelters and thrift stores, saying it was his way of giving back at Christmas for all the wealth and generosity he had received in his lifetime.
For years, Stewart did not want his name known or want thanks or applause, but last December he acknowledged who he was and used his last few months while battling cancer to press his message of kindness toward others. He even trained some friends in the ways of Secret Santa.
This Christmas, a friend who told Stewart in the hospital that he would carry on for him is out on the streets, handing out $100 bills, each one stamped with "Larry Stewart, Secret Santa."
Between Kansas City and several other cities this Christmas, the new Secret Santa will give away $75,000 of his own money, mostly in $100 bills.
"I didn't want to be a Secret Santa," said the man, a business consultant who lives in the Kansas City area. "I wanted to give Larry money. But last year, he said I had to hand it out myself. So I did, and I got hooked."
This new Secret Santa talks about Larry Stewart to just about everyone he encounters. "Have you ever heard of a man named Larry Stewart?" he asks before handing out $100 or more.
Depending on who he's talking to, the new Secret Santa might say Stewart was a man who believed in making people happy by giving them money they didn't have to ask for, apply for or wait in line for.
"There was this fella named Larry Stewart," he tells a man in the bus station. "He was an old friend of mine. He was called Secret Santa, and every year he would find a few people who might need a little money and he would ask that you pass on the kindness."
People respond differently to the gesture. Some cry. Some scream. A rare few even say "No thanks."
Others take the money and offer their own gifts. like Robert Young, who was homeless and had only 20 cents in his pocket. When Secret Santa gave him $200, Young, 50, took out an old notebook and ripped out a song he had written.
"It's yours now," he told Secret Santa, who thanked Young, and carefully tucked the pages into his pocket.
The new Secret Santa has also started a Web site, and is trying to recruit other Secret Santas across the country. "Larry's dream was for a Secret Santa in every city," Kansas City's Santa said.
There are now a couple apprentices, with more candidates turning up all the time. But, he says, you don't have to be willing to hand out money to be a Secret Santa.
"Anyone can be a Secret Santa," he says. "You don't have to give away $100. You can give away kindnes. Help someone."
___
On the Net:
http://www.secretsantaworld.net/
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The Spirit of Santa Claus
He’s seen in the smiles the whole world is sharing…
He’s found where there is friendship and loving and caring…
He’s felt in warm handshakes when people are meeting…
He’s heard in the cheer of a Christmas greeting…
He’s the spirit behind all the gifts we receive…
He’s everywhere, always…
To those who…
Believe.
He’s found where there is friendship and loving and caring…
He’s felt in warm handshakes when people are meeting…
He’s heard in the cheer of a Christmas greeting…
He’s the spirit behind all the gifts we receive…
He’s everywhere, always…
To those who…
Believe.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Paula Deen Groupies
Apparently there are some Paula Deen groupies in Scottsdale. I never thought I would ever see/meet someone that loves butter as much as Paula does. OH, how wrong I was.
I was driving home the other night and noticed that the SUV in front of me had a personalized license plate. This is not something uncommon in Scottsdale. Since moving here four years ago, I have seen more personalized plates than should be allowed. Seriously, it's completely out of control. But, whatever. Apparetnly, Scottsdale needs the money. How else do you explain all the photo radar cameras?
Anyway...I didn't have my camera with me and had to take the picture with my phone. And it sucked. So, I'll just tell you...the license plate read, "BUTTRR".
Cute, right? I bet these people TiVO each episode of Paula's show and try to work in "Y'all" or "Best Dishes" into their daily vernacular.
I thought this was the end of seeing some funky butter lovin'. But, no. I was wrong...AGAIN!
Two days later I was behind yet another SUV. This time the license plate read, "BTRNUT" (butter nut).
Then I got to wondering....
Do Paula Deen groupies each have their own nickname? (ButterNut, Butter Ball, etc.)
Is there a secret handshake?
Is Scottsdale, Arizona thier headquarters?
Do they worship the Land O Lakes?
I'd be kind of afraid if I had groupies. They'd most likely be all hopped up on goofballs or something.
I was driving home the other night and noticed that the SUV in front of me had a personalized license plate. This is not something uncommon in Scottsdale. Since moving here four years ago, I have seen more personalized plates than should be allowed. Seriously, it's completely out of control. But, whatever. Apparetnly, Scottsdale needs the money. How else do you explain all the photo radar cameras?
Anyway...I didn't have my camera with me and had to take the picture with my phone. And it sucked. So, I'll just tell you...the license plate read, "BUTTRR".
Cute, right? I bet these people TiVO each episode of Paula's show and try to work in "Y'all" or "Best Dishes" into their daily vernacular.
I thought this was the end of seeing some funky butter lovin'. But, no. I was wrong...AGAIN!
Two days later I was behind yet another SUV. This time the license plate read, "BTRNUT" (butter nut).
Then I got to wondering....
Do Paula Deen groupies each have their own nickname? (ButterNut, Butter Ball, etc.)
Is there a secret handshake?
Is Scottsdale, Arizona thier headquarters?
Do they worship the Land O Lakes?
I'd be kind of afraid if I had groupies. They'd most likely be all hopped up on goofballs or something.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Rachael Ray Book Signing at Kierland
I gave my daughter one of her Christmas presents early. A friend of mine told me that Rachael Ray would be at Kierland for a book signing in December. Yippee!
A few years ago, my daughter went through the RR cookbook I have and picked out what she wanted me to make for her birthday dinner. I've made it for her birthday every year since.
I picked her up from school yesterday and we headed over to Kierland. We stood in line for three hours before the book signing was even scheudled to start. Thank God ~ the line had already started to form.
My friend Nicole showed up, made a Starbucks run and waited in line with us.
When my daughter gave Rachael her book she said, "You're my biggest inspiration for cooking. I made my first meal when I was 7."
Rachael told my daughter that she had her beat by four years, she had made her first meal at 11.
Then my daughter told Rachael that she was 14 and Rachael Ray nearly had a fit. She thought my "baby" looked 18. That coupled with the fact that she just met Miss Rachael made my daughters day.
I so have the Mommy of the Year award wrapped up!
* side note: I met a lady in line who didn't have a ticket. oops! However, the store told me that I could bring as many people as I wanted on my one ticket. This sounded fishy, so I asked about it. Twice. And got the same answer both times. So, anyway, I let this lady come in with us. It is, after all, Christmastime, the Season of Perpetual Hope. Turns out she works for McCormick spices. Guess who will be getting some free spices....YAY ME!
Rachael Ray signing my books.
Rachael Ray signing my daughters book.
Thanks, Rachael. You were so gracious and sweet to my daughter. I wish you success in all your future endeavors and hope you have a lovely holiday!
Slow day...let's see what's on Yahoo! News....Uh-Oh!
25-lb turkey flies through man's window
Mon Dec 10, 5:51 PM ET
The noise that Chuck Ritter heard while sitting in his living room was a turkey that crashed through a third-story bedroom window (wait…isn’t the turkey a flightless bird? How the sam hill?...). Ritter, 83 (that old man is lucky he didn’t have a damn heart attack!), was relaxing Saturday when the uninvited guest arrived (I hate it when that happens. Especially when I’m out of Chex mix and beer).
Ritter called Joe Battaglia, the on-call maintenance worker at his Traverse City apartment, and they tried to corral the 25-pound bird as it flapped around on the carpet amid blood and shards of glass. (I can just hear the "Mission Impossible" music now. Gee, do you think he’ll get his deposit back?)
After about 30 minutes of trying to ease the turkey toward the window with a broomstick and a fishing pole (wait..let me get a mental picture of this…), Ritter cornered the bird, grabbed it by the neck and threw it out the window (did he scream like a girl, too?)
Ritter said after the ordeal that the turkey would make a nice dinner (especially from the crunch of the extra glass and asphalt embedded in the meat!), and he was looking for a needy family to give it to. (I’m sure they’ll appreciate the cut up, bloody, flattened carcass).
Monday, December 10, 2007
Lockdown
My Monday didn't start well. As I was putting mousse in my hair I heard glass shatter in the kitchen. I ran in there to see what had broke (picture it ~ me in my bathrobe with white stuff all over my head. I probably looked like my hair had rabies). I found my daughter standing in front of the fridge. Milk in one hand, bottle of beer all over the floor. She was frozen in place ~ kind of like a deer in headlights. I cleaned up the mess and then went to clean up the mess that was my hair. My hair was as sticky as the kitchen floor. ick.
Around 10:00 my friend found me in the hallway to let me know that my daughter's school was under lockdown. Someone had brought a gun to school. My heart sank and I couldn't make it back to my desk fast enough. I immediately checked my cell phone.
My daughter had sent me a text message to let me know she was okay and safe in her classroom. This is the third time she's been in school during a lock down. The first was 9/11.
All I wanted to do was rush to the school and take her home with me. However, in the interest of safety for the entire student body, no one was being let out or let in. I waited impatiently for an update. Constantly checking the schools website and watching the news. Finally, an hour later my daughter called. Everything was over. No gun was found and the police were going to remain on campus. She was safe and would be home at the regular time. Her little voice never sounded so sweet.
I bought baby gates, outlet caps, knee pads...all the things parents do to protect their children. But, how do you protect them from this? Some people would say, "That's why I homeschool!" That's all well and good, but eventually they will go out into the world. Last week's mall shooting proves that keeping children at home instead of sending them to a public school isn't going to keep them any safer. Last year there were two guys driving around Phoenix randomly shooting people because they were bored.
A kid brought a gun to my school when I was a sophomore in high school. It was a Wednesday and I was in third period and the bell didn't ring when the class was over. Ten minutes passed before someone came into the class to tell my teacher to keep us inside and to lock the door. Unfortunately, there was nothing we could do about the wall of windows that faced the other building. That's where this kid was. Holding his French class hostage. He even played Russian roulette with some of the kids in the class. Eventually, he surrendered to the SWAT team. He said in his statement that he was mad because no one had come to his party the night before. He's still in prison last I heard.
So, what's the purpose of this post? My purpose is this: Do all that you can to not only protect your children, but to prepare them for where ever life may take them. Give them to tools and skills to ensure their own safety and well-being. Don't ever miss a chance to hug them and kiss them no matter how much they may struggle (especially the teenagers). Tell them you love them. Then tell them again.
Babycakes...Mama and Daddy love you to all our hearts. You are our only need.
Around 10:00 my friend found me in the hallway to let me know that my daughter's school was under lockdown. Someone had brought a gun to school. My heart sank and I couldn't make it back to my desk fast enough. I immediately checked my cell phone.
My daughter had sent me a text message to let me know she was okay and safe in her classroom. This is the third time she's been in school during a lock down. The first was 9/11.
All I wanted to do was rush to the school and take her home with me. However, in the interest of safety for the entire student body, no one was being let out or let in. I waited impatiently for an update. Constantly checking the schools website and watching the news. Finally, an hour later my daughter called. Everything was over. No gun was found and the police were going to remain on campus. She was safe and would be home at the regular time. Her little voice never sounded so sweet.
I bought baby gates, outlet caps, knee pads...all the things parents do to protect their children. But, how do you protect them from this? Some people would say, "That's why I homeschool!" That's all well and good, but eventually they will go out into the world. Last week's mall shooting proves that keeping children at home instead of sending them to a public school isn't going to keep them any safer. Last year there were two guys driving around Phoenix randomly shooting people because they were bored.
A kid brought a gun to my school when I was a sophomore in high school. It was a Wednesday and I was in third period and the bell didn't ring when the class was over. Ten minutes passed before someone came into the class to tell my teacher to keep us inside and to lock the door. Unfortunately, there was nothing we could do about the wall of windows that faced the other building. That's where this kid was. Holding his French class hostage. He even played Russian roulette with some of the kids in the class. Eventually, he surrendered to the SWAT team. He said in his statement that he was mad because no one had come to his party the night before. He's still in prison last I heard.
So, what's the purpose of this post? My purpose is this: Do all that you can to not only protect your children, but to prepare them for where ever life may take them. Give them to tools and skills to ensure their own safety and well-being. Don't ever miss a chance to hug them and kiss them no matter how much they may struggle (especially the teenagers). Tell them you love them. Then tell them again.
Babycakes...Mama and Daddy love you to all our hearts. You are our only need.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
How You Doin'?
I found this while doing my boss' holiday shopping. I'm thinking that it's manufactured by the same company that brought us Nads Hair Removal. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you...Joe's Sticky Stuff...
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Last Minute Gift Ideas!
Wal-Mart is your Chia Headquarters! They have the original Chia pet, the Chia head, the Chia Scooby, even a Shreck Chia! It's a veritable Chia extravaganza!! Give one to someone you loathe! Cha-Cha-Cha-Chia!
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Sad News
With all the sadness and trauma going on in the world at the moment, it is worth reflecting on the death of a very important person, which almost went unnoticed last week.
Larry LaPrise, the man who wrote 'The Hokey Pokey' died peacefully at the age of 93. The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. They put his left leg in. .. . . And then the trouble started.
Shut up. You know it's funny. Now send it on to someone else and make them smile.
Larry LaPrise, the man who wrote 'The Hokey Pokey' died peacefully at the age of 93. The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. They put his left leg in. .. . . And then the trouble started.
Shut up. You know it's funny. Now send it on to someone else and make them smile.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Mutant Redneck Genes
My ex-husband sent me an e-mail with an item he wants for Christmas. Lord, please don't let my baby girl inherit the mutant redneck gene from her daddy.
I suppose this would help get his drunk ass from point A to point B at the NASCAR race.
I suppose this would help get his drunk ass from point A to point B at the NASCAR race.
The Cruzin Cooler
This is the ultimate accessory for tailgating, camping, the kids’ soccer game, or even just plain fun at home—the Cruzin Cooler. It combines two of life’s necessities: a large capacity cooler for keeping those drinks ice cold, and a drivetrain with a top speed up to 13 mph, and the power to easily go up ramps. Not just a novelty, the Cruzin Cooler can be a real help, and save your back on long days. It holds 24 beverage cans plus plenty of ice, and its powerful 500 watt electric motor can actually travel up to 15 miles on a charge (charger included). It measures 24”l x 17”w x 18”h, weighs 74 pounds and holds up to 280 lbs. Note - picture shown with optional seat cushion
Monday, November 26, 2007
Two Things
First - I was dumped recently even before I knew the guy. This was a first for me. I met Patti for lunch on Tuesday. When I got there she told me about a guy at her office that she had been thinking about playing matchmaker for me. She had told him oodles about me, but had failed to even mention her diabolical plan to me. Oh goody! However, when she told him that she was going to meet me for lunch and that he was welcome to join us. His response was, "I'm going to play airhockey with everyone else, so you are welcome to join us." Isn't that fabulous?
Second - I know it's wrong, but it made me giggle...
Second - I know it's wrong, but it made me giggle...
Saturday, November 24, 2007
You Gotta Love Odd News
Babe the Blue Ox's head falls off
Associated PressNov. 24, 2007 12:40 PM
KLAMATH, Calif. - Babe the Blue Ox has lost his head. Ax-wielding Paul Bunyan is not a suspect. (flim at eleven!)
The head fell off the 35-foot-tall statue of giant lumberjack Bunyan's mythical sidekick Tuesday, landing snout down on the pavement in the northern California town of Klamath. (See, now this is the kind of stuff I drive by. A big 'ol head in the middle of the street!)
Jeff LaForest, manager of the gift shop where the statue stands, says water was seeping inside the statue. That weakened the wood inside the structure and caused the collapse. (Are you sure? Maybe Babe had just needed a nap.)
LaForest said he will repair Babe as soon as possible. I n the meantime, he plans to use a diminutive stuffed animal head as a placeholder in time for the town's annual Christmas light show. (Ok, wait..*snork*...so what, you're going to put a teaddy bear head on a 35 foot statue of an ox? *snork*..to help with the Christmas festivites? *snork*)
"It's kind of sad isn't it?" LaForest said. (Girl, you have no idea...)
Associated PressNov. 24, 2007 12:40 PM
KLAMATH, Calif. - Babe the Blue Ox has lost his head. Ax-wielding Paul Bunyan is not a suspect. (flim at eleven!)
The head fell off the 35-foot-tall statue of giant lumberjack Bunyan's mythical sidekick Tuesday, landing snout down on the pavement in the northern California town of Klamath. (See, now this is the kind of stuff I drive by. A big 'ol head in the middle of the street!)
Jeff LaForest, manager of the gift shop where the statue stands, says water was seeping inside the statue. That weakened the wood inside the structure and caused the collapse. (Are you sure? Maybe Babe had just needed a nap.)
LaForest said he will repair Babe as soon as possible. I n the meantime, he plans to use a diminutive stuffed animal head as a placeholder in time for the town's annual Christmas light show. (Ok, wait..*snork*...so what, you're going to put a teaddy bear head on a 35 foot statue of an ox? *snork*..to help with the Christmas festivites? *snork*)
"It's kind of sad isn't it?" LaForest said. (Girl, you have no idea...)
Friday, November 23, 2007
Happy Text-Giving!
I'm sick for Thanksgiving. I thought at first it was just something I ate, but no. I passed this stunningly attractive stomach ailment to my daughter and roommate. None of us felt right yesterday. I guess I was just so thankful I couldn't help but give.
Anyway, at 7:34 am I recieved a text message from my step-sister wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving. A little early, but okay. A short while later, I got a text from my friend Karri. Followed by one from Christine, Acquanetta, Patti, my baby sister, Nicole and last but not least from my boss. Always one to rebel, I threw caution to the wind and actually called my mom. Which totally blew the mind of my 14 year old. Yay me.
I was just sitting here thinking how interesting it was that I didn't receive any phone calls, just text messages. I started to get very philosophical about this and wondering how we as a society finally got to the point of non-personal communication. Why is it that we only communicate in short, abbreivated messages and not in actual conversations? Do we hate dealing with each other that much? How can you have a true conversation without there being a volley of thoughts, ideas and emotion? Why the hell am I wondeing about this?
How ironic is it that I'm getting silly with wondering about society's ills and non-verbal communication as I write a blog for strangers to read?
I kill me.
Anyway, at 7:34 am I recieved a text message from my step-sister wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving. A little early, but okay. A short while later, I got a text from my friend Karri. Followed by one from Christine, Acquanetta, Patti, my baby sister, Nicole and last but not least from my boss. Always one to rebel, I threw caution to the wind and actually called my mom. Which totally blew the mind of my 14 year old. Yay me.
I was just sitting here thinking how interesting it was that I didn't receive any phone calls, just text messages. I started to get very philosophical about this and wondering how we as a society finally got to the point of non-personal communication. Why is it that we only communicate in short, abbreivated messages and not in actual conversations? Do we hate dealing with each other that much? How can you have a true conversation without there being a volley of thoughts, ideas and emotion? Why the hell am I wondeing about this?
How ironic is it that I'm getting silly with wondering about society's ills and non-verbal communication as I write a blog for strangers to read?
I kill me.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Follow Me, I Know the Way to Sesame Street
PSA for all parents. Don't kill childhood by imparting your skewed, jaded view of the world. Childhood is over in the blink of an eye ~ let them enjoy it while they can.
New York Times
November 18, 2007
The Medium
Sweeping the Clouds Away
By VIRGINIA HEFFERNAN
Sunny days! The earliest episodes of “Sesame Street” are available on digital video! Break out some Keebler products, fire up the DVD player and prepare for the exquisite pleasure-pain of top-shelf nostalgia.
Just don’t bring the children. According to an earnest warning on Volumes 1 and 2, “Sesame Street: Old School” is adults-only: “These early ‘Sesame Street’ episodes are intended for grown-ups, and may not suit the needs of today’s preschool child.”
Say what? At a recent all-ages home screening, a hush fell over the room. “What did they do to us?” asked one Gen-X mother of two, finally. The show rolled, and the sweet trauma came flooding back. What they did to us was hard-core. Man, was that scene rough. The masonry on the dingy brownstone at 123 Sesame Street, where the closeted Ernie and Bert shared a dismal basement apartment, was deteriorating. Cookie Monster was on a fast track to diabetes. Oscar’s depression was untreated. Prozacky Elmo didn’t exist.
Nothing in the children’s entertainment of today, candy-colored animation hopped up on computer tricks, can prepare young or old for this frightening glimpse of simpler times. Back then — as on the very first episode, which aired on PBS Nov. 10, 1969 — a pretty, lonely girl like Sally might find herself befriended by an older male stranger who held her hand and took her home. Granted, Gordon just wanted Sally to meet his wife and have some milk and cookies, but . . . well, he could have wanted anything. As it was, he fed her milk and cookies. The milk looks dangerously whole.
Live-action cows also charge the 1969 screen — cows eating common grass, not grain improved with hormones. Cows are milked by plain old farmers, who use their unsanitary hands and fill one bucket at a time. Elsewhere, two brothers risk concussion while whaling on each other with allergenic feather pillows. Overweight layabouts, lacking touch-screen iPods and headphones, jockey for airtime with their deafening transistor radios. And one of those radios plays a late-’60s news report — something about a “senior American official” and “two billion in credit over the next five years” — that conjures a bleak economic climate, with war debt and stagflation in the offing.
The old “Sesame Street” is not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for softies born since 1998, when the chipper “Elmo’s World” started. Anyone who considers bull markets normal, extracurricular activities sacrosanct and New York a tidy, governable place — well, the original “Sesame Street” might hurt your feelings.
I asked Carol-Lynn Parente, the executive producer of “Sesame Street,” how exactly the first episodes were unsuitable for toddlers in 2007. She told me about Alistair Cookie and the parody “Monsterpiece Theater.” Alistair Cookie, played by Cookie Monster, used to appear with a pipe, which he later gobbled. According to Parente, “That modeled the wrong behavior” — smoking, eating pipes — “so we reshot those scenes without the pipe, and then we dropped the parody altogether.”
Which brought Parente to a feature of “Sesame Street” that had not been reconstructed: the chronically mood-disordered Oscar the Grouch. On the first episode, Oscar seems irredeemably miserable — hypersensitive, sarcastic, misanthropic. (Bert, too, is described as grouchy; none of the characters, in fact, is especially sunshiney except maybe Ernie, who also seems slow.) “We might not be able to create a character like Oscar now,” she said.
Snuffleupagus is visible only to Big Bird; since 1985, all the characters can see him, as Big Bird’s old protestations that he was not hallucinating came to seem a little creepy, not to mention somewhat strained. As for Cookie Monster, he can be seen in the old-school episodes in his former inglorious incarnation: a blue, googly-eyed cookievore with a signature gobble (“om nom nom nom”). Originally designed by Jim Henson for use in commercials for General Foods International and Frito-Lay, Cookie Monster was never a righteous figure. His controversial conversion to a more diverse diet wouldn’t come until 2005, and in the early seasons he comes across a Child’s First Addict.
The biggest surprise of the early episodes is the rural — agrarian, even — sequences. Episode 1 spends a stoned time warp in the company of backlighted cows, while they mill around and chew cud. This pastoral scene rolls to an industrial voiceover explaining dairy farms, and the sleepy chords of Joe Raposo’s aimless masterpiece, “Hey Cow, I See You Now.” Chewing the grass so green/Making the milk/Waiting for milking time/Waiting for giving time/Mmmmm.
Oh, what’s that? Right, the trance of early “Sesame Street” and its country-time sequences. In spite of the show’s devotion to its “target child,” the “4-year-old inner-city black youngster” (as The New York Times explained in 1979), the first episodes join kids cavorting in amber waves of grain — black children, mostly, who must be pressed into service as the face of America’s farms uniquely on “Sesame Street.”
In East Harlem and Bedford-Stuyvesant in 1978, 95 percent of households with kids ages 2 to 5 watched “Sesame Street.” The figure was even higher in Washington. Nationwide, though, the number wasn’t much lower, and was largely determined by the whims of the PBS affiliates: 80 percent in houses with young children. The so-called inner city became anywhere that “Sesame Street” played, because the Children’s Television Workshop declared the inner city not a grim sociological reality but a full-color fantasy — an eccentric scene, framed by a box and far removed from real farmland and city streets alike.
The concept of the “inner city” — or “slums,” as The Times bluntly put it in its first review of “Sesame Street” — was therefore transformed into a kind of Xanadu on the show: a bright, no-clouds, clear-air place where people bopped around with monsters and didn’t worry too much about money, cleanliness or projecting false cheer. The Upper West Side, hardly a burned-out ghetto, was said to be the model.
People on “Sesame Street” had limited possibilities and fixed identities, and (the best part) you weren’t expected to change much. The harshness of existence was a given, and no one was proposing that numbers and letters would lead you “out” of your inner city to Elysian suburbs. Instead, “Sesame Street” suggested that learning might merely make our days more bearable, more interesting, funnier. It encouraged us, above all, to be nice to our neighbors and to cultivate the safer pleasures that take the edge off — taking baths, eating cookies, reading. Don’t tell the kids.
Points of Entry
Caveat teletor: Volumes 1 and 2 of “Sesame Street: Old School” are available on DVD, which you can sample and buy on Sesameworkshop.org. With a few episodes, extras and celebrity appearances by the likes of Richard Pryor and Lou Rawls, “Old School” sounds harmless enough. But are you ready to mainline this much ’70s nostalgia?
The Way Old: YouTube is great for performance art. If 1969 is not far back enough for you, how’s 1935? The Oscar-winning short film “How to Sleep,” by the Algonquin Round-Tabler Robert Benchley, can be found here in sumptuous black-and-white; search for his name and the film’s title on YouTube.
Come of Age: Marshall Herskovitz and Edward Zwick, the men of “My So-Called Life” and “thirtysomething,” have at last introduced their online-only young-adult series, “Quarterlife.” It started Nov. 11 on MySpaceTV.com, and it marks the first time a network-quality series — a long indie film, really — has been produced directly for the Internet. If the old times unnerve you, welcome to the new times.
New York Times
November 18, 2007
The Medium
Sweeping the Clouds Away
By VIRGINIA HEFFERNAN
Sunny days! The earliest episodes of “Sesame Street” are available on digital video! Break out some Keebler products, fire up the DVD player and prepare for the exquisite pleasure-pain of top-shelf nostalgia.
Just don’t bring the children. According to an earnest warning on Volumes 1 and 2, “Sesame Street: Old School” is adults-only: “These early ‘Sesame Street’ episodes are intended for grown-ups, and may not suit the needs of today’s preschool child.”
Say what? At a recent all-ages home screening, a hush fell over the room. “What did they do to us?” asked one Gen-X mother of two, finally. The show rolled, and the sweet trauma came flooding back. What they did to us was hard-core. Man, was that scene rough. The masonry on the dingy brownstone at 123 Sesame Street, where the closeted Ernie and Bert shared a dismal basement apartment, was deteriorating. Cookie Monster was on a fast track to diabetes. Oscar’s depression was untreated. Prozacky Elmo didn’t exist.
Nothing in the children’s entertainment of today, candy-colored animation hopped up on computer tricks, can prepare young or old for this frightening glimpse of simpler times. Back then — as on the very first episode, which aired on PBS Nov. 10, 1969 — a pretty, lonely girl like Sally might find herself befriended by an older male stranger who held her hand and took her home. Granted, Gordon just wanted Sally to meet his wife and have some milk and cookies, but . . . well, he could have wanted anything. As it was, he fed her milk and cookies. The milk looks dangerously whole.
Live-action cows also charge the 1969 screen — cows eating common grass, not grain improved with hormones. Cows are milked by plain old farmers, who use their unsanitary hands and fill one bucket at a time. Elsewhere, two brothers risk concussion while whaling on each other with allergenic feather pillows. Overweight layabouts, lacking touch-screen iPods and headphones, jockey for airtime with their deafening transistor radios. And one of those radios plays a late-’60s news report — something about a “senior American official” and “two billion in credit over the next five years” — that conjures a bleak economic climate, with war debt and stagflation in the offing.
The old “Sesame Street” is not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for softies born since 1998, when the chipper “Elmo’s World” started. Anyone who considers bull markets normal, extracurricular activities sacrosanct and New York a tidy, governable place — well, the original “Sesame Street” might hurt your feelings.
I asked Carol-Lynn Parente, the executive producer of “Sesame Street,” how exactly the first episodes were unsuitable for toddlers in 2007. She told me about Alistair Cookie and the parody “Monsterpiece Theater.” Alistair Cookie, played by Cookie Monster, used to appear with a pipe, which he later gobbled. According to Parente, “That modeled the wrong behavior” — smoking, eating pipes — “so we reshot those scenes without the pipe, and then we dropped the parody altogether.”
Which brought Parente to a feature of “Sesame Street” that had not been reconstructed: the chronically mood-disordered Oscar the Grouch. On the first episode, Oscar seems irredeemably miserable — hypersensitive, sarcastic, misanthropic. (Bert, too, is described as grouchy; none of the characters, in fact, is especially sunshiney except maybe Ernie, who also seems slow.) “We might not be able to create a character like Oscar now,” she said.
Snuffleupagus is visible only to Big Bird; since 1985, all the characters can see him, as Big Bird’s old protestations that he was not hallucinating came to seem a little creepy, not to mention somewhat strained. As for Cookie Monster, he can be seen in the old-school episodes in his former inglorious incarnation: a blue, googly-eyed cookievore with a signature gobble (“om nom nom nom”). Originally designed by Jim Henson for use in commercials for General Foods International and Frito-Lay, Cookie Monster was never a righteous figure. His controversial conversion to a more diverse diet wouldn’t come until 2005, and in the early seasons he comes across a Child’s First Addict.
The biggest surprise of the early episodes is the rural — agrarian, even — sequences. Episode 1 spends a stoned time warp in the company of backlighted cows, while they mill around and chew cud. This pastoral scene rolls to an industrial voiceover explaining dairy farms, and the sleepy chords of Joe Raposo’s aimless masterpiece, “Hey Cow, I See You Now.” Chewing the grass so green/Making the milk/Waiting for milking time/Waiting for giving time/Mmmmm.
Oh, what’s that? Right, the trance of early “Sesame Street” and its country-time sequences. In spite of the show’s devotion to its “target child,” the “4-year-old inner-city black youngster” (as The New York Times explained in 1979), the first episodes join kids cavorting in amber waves of grain — black children, mostly, who must be pressed into service as the face of America’s farms uniquely on “Sesame Street.”
In East Harlem and Bedford-Stuyvesant in 1978, 95 percent of households with kids ages 2 to 5 watched “Sesame Street.” The figure was even higher in Washington. Nationwide, though, the number wasn’t much lower, and was largely determined by the whims of the PBS affiliates: 80 percent in houses with young children. The so-called inner city became anywhere that “Sesame Street” played, because the Children’s Television Workshop declared the inner city not a grim sociological reality but a full-color fantasy — an eccentric scene, framed by a box and far removed from real farmland and city streets alike.
The concept of the “inner city” — or “slums,” as The Times bluntly put it in its first review of “Sesame Street” — was therefore transformed into a kind of Xanadu on the show: a bright, no-clouds, clear-air place where people bopped around with monsters and didn’t worry too much about money, cleanliness or projecting false cheer. The Upper West Side, hardly a burned-out ghetto, was said to be the model.
People on “Sesame Street” had limited possibilities and fixed identities, and (the best part) you weren’t expected to change much. The harshness of existence was a given, and no one was proposing that numbers and letters would lead you “out” of your inner city to Elysian suburbs. Instead, “Sesame Street” suggested that learning might merely make our days more bearable, more interesting, funnier. It encouraged us, above all, to be nice to our neighbors and to cultivate the safer pleasures that take the edge off — taking baths, eating cookies, reading. Don’t tell the kids.
Points of Entry
Caveat teletor: Volumes 1 and 2 of “Sesame Street: Old School” are available on DVD, which you can sample and buy on Sesameworkshop.org. With a few episodes, extras and celebrity appearances by the likes of Richard Pryor and Lou Rawls, “Old School” sounds harmless enough. But are you ready to mainline this much ’70s nostalgia?
The Way Old: YouTube is great for performance art. If 1969 is not far back enough for you, how’s 1935? The Oscar-winning short film “How to Sleep,” by the Algonquin Round-Tabler Robert Benchley, can be found here in sumptuous black-and-white; search for his name and the film’s title on YouTube.
Come of Age: Marshall Herskovitz and Edward Zwick, the men of “My So-Called Life” and “thirtysomething,” have at last introduced their online-only young-adult series, “Quarterlife.” It started Nov. 11 on MySpaceTV.com, and it marks the first time a network-quality series — a long indie film, really — has been produced directly for the Internet. If the old times unnerve you, welcome to the new times.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Just When You Thought it Was Safe to Go into the Water
A recent article on AZ Central profiled some of the four and five star resorts in Tucson. This is the picture that accompanied the article. There’s a damn duck in the pool! Do you get an extra star in your rating if you provide water fowl as an amenity?
Thursday, November 15, 2007
We Wish You a Merry Grinch-Mas!
Okay, this is too much. Some holier-than-thou idiot actually thought that Santa's laugh might be offensive to women. They belived in this theory so much, they convinced a company that provides Santas to malls, etc. to make it a company policy to have their "Santa's" not say "ho, ho, ho." Seriously? What woman would think that when Old St. Nick was laughing he was actually calling her a "ho"? What' s Jolly Old St. Nick supposed to say? "Ha, Ha, Ha"? That's dumb as hell.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm sure that the phrase "ho, ho, ho" has been used to describe women during the holidays in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way. But aren't kids going to wonder why Santa isn't laughing like he used to? Did the college educated dork that came up with this stop to consider that now parents will be put in the position of having to explain this to their children? I don't know about y'all but I would not have taken kindly to having to explain to my young child what a "ho" is and why Santa couldn't say it anymore.
Come to think of it...the people playing the part of Santa during the holidays are, in a retail sort of way, paying homage to a saint. So, if this company is trying to censor what the Santa's say, aren't they indirectly trying to censor a saint? Should the Catholic church get involved in this heated social issue? What is to become of our society if we *gasp* keep our heads firmly planted up our collective asses?
This was a stupid thing for this company to bring up as a policy or even a suggestion. I truly hope the CEO grows a brain and rescinds the Grinch Policy. And for the record, chicks with brains won't be offended by the seasonal "ho, ho, ho" because we know that we are, in fact, not one. We also don't get offended by the occassional name calling...being comfortable in our own skin and all.
And lastly, this ho loves her some Santa. Can't wait to sit on your lap Santa Baby and tell you just how naughty I've been. ;-)
Santas warned 'ho ho ho' offensive to women
Wed Nov 14, 11:04 PM ET
SYDNEY (AFP) - Santas in Australia's largest city have been told not to use Father Christmas's traditional "ho ho ho" greeting because it may be offensive to women, it was reported Thursday.
Sydney's Santa Clauses have instead been instructed to say "ha ha ha" instead, the Daily Telegraph reported.
One disgruntled Santa told the newspaper a recruitment firm warned him not to use "ho ho ho" because it could frighten children and was too close to "ho", a US slang term for prostitute.
"Gimme a break," said Julie Gale, who runs the campaign against sexualising children called Kids Free 2B Kids.
"We are talking about little kids who do not understand that "ho, ho, ho" has any other connotation and nor should they," she told the Telegraph.
"Leave Santa alone."
A local spokesman for the US-based Westaff recruitment firm said it was "misleading" to say the company had banned Santa's traditional greeting and it was being left up to the discretion of the individual Santa himself.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm sure that the phrase "ho, ho, ho" has been used to describe women during the holidays in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way. But aren't kids going to wonder why Santa isn't laughing like he used to? Did the college educated dork that came up with this stop to consider that now parents will be put in the position of having to explain this to their children? I don't know about y'all but I would not have taken kindly to having to explain to my young child what a "ho" is and why Santa couldn't say it anymore.
Come to think of it...the people playing the part of Santa during the holidays are, in a retail sort of way, paying homage to a saint. So, if this company is trying to censor what the Santa's say, aren't they indirectly trying to censor a saint? Should the Catholic church get involved in this heated social issue? What is to become of our society if we *gasp* keep our heads firmly planted up our collective asses?
This was a stupid thing for this company to bring up as a policy or even a suggestion. I truly hope the CEO grows a brain and rescinds the Grinch Policy. And for the record, chicks with brains won't be offended by the seasonal "ho, ho, ho" because we know that we are, in fact, not one. We also don't get offended by the occassional name calling...being comfortable in our own skin and all.
And lastly, this ho loves her some Santa. Can't wait to sit on your lap Santa Baby and tell you just how naughty I've been. ;-)
Santas warned 'ho ho ho' offensive to women
Wed Nov 14, 11:04 PM ET
SYDNEY (AFP) - Santas in Australia's largest city have been told not to use Father Christmas's traditional "ho ho ho" greeting because it may be offensive to women, it was reported Thursday.
Sydney's Santa Clauses have instead been instructed to say "ha ha ha" instead, the Daily Telegraph reported.
One disgruntled Santa told the newspaper a recruitment firm warned him not to use "ho ho ho" because it could frighten children and was too close to "ho", a US slang term for prostitute.
"Gimme a break," said Julie Gale, who runs the campaign against sexualising children called Kids Free 2B Kids.
"We are talking about little kids who do not understand that "ho, ho, ho" has any other connotation and nor should they," she told the Telegraph.
"Leave Santa alone."
A local spokesman for the US-based Westaff recruitment firm said it was "misleading" to say the company had banned Santa's traditional greeting and it was being left up to the discretion of the individual Santa himself.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Great News Day!
Teacher dispatches raccoon with nail gun
Tue Nov 13, 11:22 PM ET
Huntsville, AR - A high school teacher killed a raccoon with a nail gun after discovering the planned subject of a skinning demonstration was alive. (O.K., wait. This didn’t take place in Shop class? What was this? Critter Skinnin’ 101?)
Superintendent Alvin Lievsay said a student's parent promised to bring in a raccoon for the exercise (Shooot…all I ever brought in were cupcakes), but surprised teacher Jerick Hutchinson by bringing the animal in a live trap (‘cause they had enough in the other traps for dinner, I’m sure).
Lievsay said Hutchinson, "who used to work in a slaughter house," took the animal outside to the back of his truck Friday and shot it with the nail gun (This fool worked in a slaughter house and this was the only way he could come up with to kill this animal?).
Lievsay said no students witnessed the raccoon's death (because we don’t want you to see how you should kill an animal, just how to skin it ~ insert eye roll here.).
"He used the nail gun to, as they say, to dispatch the animal," Lievsay said. "It wasn't like he held a nail gun against the head of a cute little animal in front of the class." (I can just see the After School Special now…)
Hutchinson used the dead raccoon to demonstrate how to skin the animal and to examine the contents of its stomach (Oh, my bad. This demonstration isn’t Critter Skinnin’ 101 this is for The Forensic Files on Animal Planet).
Lievsay said only one student asked not to attend the skinning. (This was a requirement? I’ve dissected a frog in my time, but c’mon.)
Lievsay said officials at Huntsville High School later talked with Hutchinson and told him not to kill animals on school grounds (or the teenagers for that matter).
The superintendent said Hutchinson, one of two agriculture teachers at the school about 30 miles east of Fayetteville, also would provide more detailed lesson plans in the future (like which type of nail gun to use ~ Craftsman or Black & Decker).
"He does a great job. The kids love him," Lievsay said. (of course they do! He's batshit crazy!)
Tue Nov 13, 11:22 PM ET
Huntsville, AR - A high school teacher killed a raccoon with a nail gun after discovering the planned subject of a skinning demonstration was alive. (O.K., wait. This didn’t take place in Shop class? What was this? Critter Skinnin’ 101?)
Superintendent Alvin Lievsay said a student's parent promised to bring in a raccoon for the exercise (Shooot…all I ever brought in were cupcakes), but surprised teacher Jerick Hutchinson by bringing the animal in a live trap (‘cause they had enough in the other traps for dinner, I’m sure).
Lievsay said Hutchinson, "who used to work in a slaughter house," took the animal outside to the back of his truck Friday and shot it with the nail gun (This fool worked in a slaughter house and this was the only way he could come up with to kill this animal?).
Lievsay said no students witnessed the raccoon's death (because we don’t want you to see how you should kill an animal, just how to skin it ~ insert eye roll here.).
"He used the nail gun to, as they say, to dispatch the animal," Lievsay said. "It wasn't like he held a nail gun against the head of a cute little animal in front of the class." (I can just see the After School Special now…)
Hutchinson used the dead raccoon to demonstrate how to skin the animal and to examine the contents of its stomach (Oh, my bad. This demonstration isn’t Critter Skinnin’ 101 this is for The Forensic Files on Animal Planet).
Lievsay said only one student asked not to attend the skinning. (This was a requirement? I’ve dissected a frog in my time, but c’mon.)
Lievsay said officials at Huntsville High School later talked with Hutchinson and told him not to kill animals on school grounds (or the teenagers for that matter).
The superintendent said Hutchinson, one of two agriculture teachers at the school about 30 miles east of Fayetteville, also would provide more detailed lesson plans in the future (like which type of nail gun to use ~ Craftsman or Black & Decker).
"He does a great job. The kids love him," Lievsay said. (of course they do! He's batshit crazy!)
You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up
Cows flee after seeing McDonald's
Tue Nov 13, 7:43 PM ET
West Haven, Utah - McDonald's? The burger joint? Stampede! Eight cows escaped from a trailer when the rear gate opened as the driver pulled into a McDonald's. It took about two hours to round them up Monday. (I can see how it took this long to round up eight head of cattle. Cows being wylie creatures and all. Hey - aren’t they supposed to have cowboys in Utah?)
"Maybe they were going to ... hop in the freezer, save the middleman," Weber County sheriff's Sgt. Dave Creager said. (Is the middleman he’s referring to the McButcher?)
Lt. Kevin Burns had another theory: "They didn't like their future." (Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun…)
The roundup was called "Operation Hamburger Helper." A nearby resident even hopped on his horse. (Okay, that’s right up there with ‘Operation Thong’.)
"I thought my eyes were lying," said Wayne Sanders, who was at a truck stop next door. "I don't know where they came from, but I'd say they'd have to weigh 800 pounds apiece and they were on a pretty good trot." (Cows trot?)
Tue Nov 13, 7:43 PM ET
West Haven, Utah - McDonald's? The burger joint? Stampede! Eight cows escaped from a trailer when the rear gate opened as the driver pulled into a McDonald's. It took about two hours to round them up Monday. (I can see how it took this long to round up eight head of cattle. Cows being wylie creatures and all. Hey - aren’t they supposed to have cowboys in Utah?)
"Maybe they were going to ... hop in the freezer, save the middleman," Weber County sheriff's Sgt. Dave Creager said. (Is the middleman he’s referring to the McButcher?)
Lt. Kevin Burns had another theory: "They didn't like their future." (Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun…)
The roundup was called "Operation Hamburger Helper." A nearby resident even hopped on his horse. (Okay, that’s right up there with ‘Operation Thong’.)
"I thought my eyes were lying," said Wayne Sanders, who was at a truck stop next door. "I don't know where they came from, but I'd say they'd have to weigh 800 pounds apiece and they were on a pretty good trot." (Cows trot?)
Monday, November 12, 2007
Saturday, November 3, 2007
All Things Southern
I was not lucky enough to be born in the South. Which is a cryin' shame. I love all things Southern. I was lucky enough to live in southeast Georgia for a couple of years. It's where I gave birth to my daughter and where I felt the most at home and where I will return to live out my days.
I asked my friend Christine (you may remember her from the Paula Deen deep fried butter ball chapter of your heroine's life) if she could make me Southern by, I don't know, baptizing me in Sweet Tea or something. She said, "No. It's just there. You're as Southern as they get, you were just born in the wrong state, that's all." Bless her heart. Being that she's from Newnan and all, I'm going to take her word for it.
I had to tell you that part so you would understand this part. I was driving around near my mom's house in Mesa when I passed soemthing I hadn't seen in about a minute. Lawd Jesus, I had to turn myself around just to make sure I wasn't dreaming.
But yes. There it was...in all it's disgusting fried glory. The only Captain D's in the state of Arizona. I immediately called Patti and we made plans to meet there for lunch someday.
That day finally arrived today. I'm certain I'll be paying for this fine fried meal (fish, okra, fries and hush puppies!). I'm on a health kick and have not allowed myself to have anything fried in a very long time. Until today. I knew with every bite of that fried fishy goodness that I was going to be ill for the rest of the day.
So, once my system has recovered from the crap I just ingested, I'll be heading to the gym to work it all off and hopefully regain some of my self respect....Whatever, it was so worth it!
Now, if I could only find a Popeye's...
I asked my friend Christine (you may remember her from the Paula Deen deep fried butter ball chapter of your heroine's life) if she could make me Southern by, I don't know, baptizing me in Sweet Tea or something. She said, "No. It's just there. You're as Southern as they get, you were just born in the wrong state, that's all." Bless her heart. Being that she's from Newnan and all, I'm going to take her word for it.
I had to tell you that part so you would understand this part. I was driving around near my mom's house in Mesa when I passed soemthing I hadn't seen in about a minute. Lawd Jesus, I had to turn myself around just to make sure I wasn't dreaming.
But yes. There it was...in all it's disgusting fried glory. The only Captain D's in the state of Arizona. I immediately called Patti and we made plans to meet there for lunch someday.
That day finally arrived today. I'm certain I'll be paying for this fine fried meal (fish, okra, fries and hush puppies!). I'm on a health kick and have not allowed myself to have anything fried in a very long time. Until today. I knew with every bite of that fried fishy goodness that I was going to be ill for the rest of the day.
So, once my system has recovered from the crap I just ingested, I'll be heading to the gym to work it all off and hopefully regain some of my self respect....Whatever, it was so worth it!
Now, if I could only find a Popeye's...
Friday, November 2, 2007
This Was Super-Fun!!
I moved last weekend. I funking hate moving. Luckily, I have some really great friends who I was able to bribe into helping with promises of pizza and cold beers. So, now I'm living out of boxes and tripping more than usual (mostly due to all the crap I haven't put away yet). All will be well once I have my kitchen set up and I cook for the first time in my new place. Once I unwravel myself from all the packing tape and finish playing with all the bubble wrap, I'll start writing again on a more consistent basis. Prroooooommmmisssssse.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Please Hammer Don't Hurt Them!
I've discovered an epidemic in the sleepy western town of Scottsdale, Arizona. A rogue band of criminals has chosen to inhabit this once peaceful town.
Their crime you ask?
To deface government property with a "hammertime" template. (Y'all know where I'm going with this...)
At first, I thought the hammertime stop sign I saw was a one time event. You know, something someone did as a prank. It wasn't in a conspicuous place and you had to really be paying attention. I didn't know how wrong I was.
10 miles to the west was another stop sign. Next to a park that is always full of kids and families. This stop sign had "hammertime" spray painted underneath the word "stop". In blue paint this time intead of white.
Well played, rogue band. Well played. Oh, and thanks for the laughs!
Sunday, October 21, 2007
The Kwik-E Mart Class
My daughter informed me that she is a member of the "Kwik-E Mart" class.
When she said this to me, I swear I turned into Scooby Doo. Head cocked to the side, both ears alert with a "Whaaaat???" expression on my face.
She explained her comment to her confused mother.
"Mom, I started high school in 2007 and I'll graduate in 2011. Get it? 7/11!"
Sometimes she makes her momma so damn proud. *sniff*
I asked her if Apu was their mascot and if he showed up to games dressed as a Slurpee.
She just rolled her eyes and went to her room.
I'm thinking about making wrapping paper for her Christmas gifts this year with this logo...
When she said this to me, I swear I turned into Scooby Doo. Head cocked to the side, both ears alert with a "Whaaaat???" expression on my face.
She explained her comment to her confused mother.
"Mom, I started high school in 2007 and I'll graduate in 2011. Get it? 7/11!"
Sometimes she makes her momma so damn proud. *sniff*
I asked her if Apu was their mascot and if he showed up to games dressed as a Slurpee.
She just rolled her eyes and went to her room.
I'm thinking about making wrapping paper for her Christmas gifts this year with this logo...
Thursday, October 18, 2007
My Current Addiction
A friend of mine e-mailed me a link earlier this week. I can't stop playing this stoopid game!
http://www.dedge.com/flash/hangman/hangman.swf
http://www.dedge.com/flash/hangman/hangman.swf
Friday, October 12, 2007
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
I'm Sorry
I'd like to offer my humblist apologies to the following people:
Carla. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a brat towards you when we were five. I'm sorry I joined the "cool" kids and made fun of you because you picked your nose and peed on one of the swings. I'm sorry for being your friend and then taking it away so I would be liked by all the "cool" kids. I'm sorry for feeling pity for you because your hair looked like it had been cut by Edward Scissorhands (and not in the good way). I remember seeing you all by yourself on the playground. I'm sorry I made you feel alone. I'm sorry that it took me becoming an adult before I realized that there may have been circumstances in your life that I couldn't even have imagined. I remember you always being sweet, even when I wasn't. I pray that your life has been blessed with an abundance of friends and family who love you and see that sweet girl that I always did.
Natasha Lyons. I'm sorry I made fun of your hair and your mom. I'm sorry I once again joined in with the "cool" kids and made fun of you for having a crush on our 6th grade teacher. For what it's worth, so did I. You were just brave enough to admit it. I always thought you were so pretty. Again, all you wanted was a friend. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel sad, hurt or less than. I remember your beautiful smile and kind heart. You got both from your mom.
John McCaslin. Although what you did was pretty icky, I'm sorry for joining in with the "cool" kids (what is wrong with me!?) and taunting you. I should have realized you were going through enough without adding our cruel words to your life.
Cynthia and Melinda. I'm sorry for complaining about you to my friends. You were just excited about starting to take dance. I should have asked to help you with your dance technique instead of improving my asshole technique.
I'm certain there are a plethora of other people I have made feel horrible about themselves because I wasn't strong enough to stand up to the status quo. I know there is nothing I can do to change my past actions and words. But, for what it's worth, I am truly sorry and pray that your lives have brought you the peace you so deserve.
Carla. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a brat towards you when we were five. I'm sorry I joined the "cool" kids and made fun of you because you picked your nose and peed on one of the swings. I'm sorry for being your friend and then taking it away so I would be liked by all the "cool" kids. I'm sorry for feeling pity for you because your hair looked like it had been cut by Edward Scissorhands (and not in the good way). I remember seeing you all by yourself on the playground. I'm sorry I made you feel alone. I'm sorry that it took me becoming an adult before I realized that there may have been circumstances in your life that I couldn't even have imagined. I remember you always being sweet, even when I wasn't. I pray that your life has been blessed with an abundance of friends and family who love you and see that sweet girl that I always did.
Natasha Lyons. I'm sorry I made fun of your hair and your mom. I'm sorry I once again joined in with the "cool" kids and made fun of you for having a crush on our 6th grade teacher. For what it's worth, so did I. You were just brave enough to admit it. I always thought you were so pretty. Again, all you wanted was a friend. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel sad, hurt or less than. I remember your beautiful smile and kind heart. You got both from your mom.
John McCaslin. Although what you did was pretty icky, I'm sorry for joining in with the "cool" kids (what is wrong with me!?) and taunting you. I should have realized you were going through enough without adding our cruel words to your life.
Cynthia and Melinda. I'm sorry for complaining about you to my friends. You were just excited about starting to take dance. I should have asked to help you with your dance technique instead of improving my asshole technique.
I'm certain there are a plethora of other people I have made feel horrible about themselves because I wasn't strong enough to stand up to the status quo. I know there is nothing I can do to change my past actions and words. But, for what it's worth, I am truly sorry and pray that your lives have brought you the peace you so deserve.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
For Once, I Was Speechless
I love this time of year. Love it, love it, love it. It's not a bazillion degrees outside and so I'm able to spend more time outside. Just yesterday, I pulled out my Halloween decorations. Next to Christmas, this is my favorite holiday to decorate my house.
Currently, my house is overrun with pumpkins, ghosts, vampires, bats and black cats. No spooky spiders, though. Y'all know how I feel about bugs.
Any way, I was having the most craptastic day and decided to cheer myself up by turning my house into The Haunted Mansion. Well, apartment. I was busy making my home look completely terrifying (which is how I described the way it looked after my annivorce-ary party) when there was a knock at my door.
It was my downstairs neighbor. She said, "I'm sorry to bother you. But I've been meaning to come talk to you for a while now."
Shit. What the hell have I done now? Music too loud? Too much stomping? Shit.
"I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoy your holiday decorations. I get excited at this time every year because I know you're going to have something on your door and windows. It warms my heart to know that someone cares enough to celebrate the season."
Say what?
At this point she looked around behind me an noticed my daughter, "You know you're very lucky to have a mom who cares about making things special for you."
I was crying like an idiot at this point. I invited her in for some coffee, but she declined. She just wanted to make sure she spoke to me before she forgot, again.
The point of me sharing this is this; no matter how small you may feel, you may be making the world a better place for someone you don't even know.
She is now on my list for Christmas cookies. I hope she likes them. Because they will have been made with the same love and dedication that it took to decorate.
Currently, my house is overrun with pumpkins, ghosts, vampires, bats and black cats. No spooky spiders, though. Y'all know how I feel about bugs.
Any way, I was having the most craptastic day and decided to cheer myself up by turning my house into The Haunted Mansion. Well, apartment. I was busy making my home look completely terrifying (which is how I described the way it looked after my annivorce-ary party) when there was a knock at my door.
It was my downstairs neighbor. She said, "I'm sorry to bother you. But I've been meaning to come talk to you for a while now."
Shit. What the hell have I done now? Music too loud? Too much stomping? Shit.
"I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoy your holiday decorations. I get excited at this time every year because I know you're going to have something on your door and windows. It warms my heart to know that someone cares enough to celebrate the season."
Say what?
At this point she looked around behind me an noticed my daughter, "You know you're very lucky to have a mom who cares about making things special for you."
I was crying like an idiot at this point. I invited her in for some coffee, but she declined. She just wanted to make sure she spoke to me before she forgot, again.
The point of me sharing this is this; no matter how small you may feel, you may be making the world a better place for someone you don't even know.
She is now on my list for Christmas cookies. I hope she likes them. Because they will have been made with the same love and dedication that it took to decorate.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Is Bobby Deen Gay?
Now how the sam hill would I know? More than that...who cares?! I have no idea why so many of you are asking for an answer regarding his dating status or if he prefers boys. I don't know the man. I also don't know if he has a girlfriend, where he lives, what his favorite flavor of ice cream is or what shade of red he likes to paint his toenails.
I realize that these are the burning questions that keep y'all up at night and what you fantasize about during the day. But, I'm not the girl to turn to for answers.
I was on his mom's show a while ago simply due to a dare from a friend. Honestly, the sole purpose for me being on her show was to make a complete jackass out of myself (which I did with artful precision). I never met him, or any other member of the Deen family when I was in Savnnah. Even if I had met the wildly popular Bobby, I doubt the topic of his sexual orientation, ice cream and/or dating status would have came up. Nail polish...possibly.
Here's how this whooollee thing got started...
http://poyju.blogspot.com/2007/04/deep-fried-butter-balls.html
I realize that these are the burning questions that keep y'all up at night and what you fantasize about during the day. But, I'm not the girl to turn to for answers.
I was on his mom's show a while ago simply due to a dare from a friend. Honestly, the sole purpose for me being on her show was to make a complete jackass out of myself (which I did with artful precision). I never met him, or any other member of the Deen family when I was in Savnnah. Even if I had met the wildly popular Bobby, I doubt the topic of his sexual orientation, ice cream and/or dating status would have came up. Nail polish...possibly.
Here's how this whooollee thing got started...
http://poyju.blogspot.com/2007/04/deep-fried-butter-balls.html
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Monday, October 1, 2007
How to Spot a Ho-fessional in Scottsdale
Patti made a command decision on Wednesday. We needed to go out dancing. We needed to go on Saturday.
Thank God for command decisions by Patti. After the afternoon I had on Saturday, I needed to work off my throbbing headache with some dancin', likker and my girlfriends.
We went to a club in north Scottsdale. We bellied up to the bar and began to survey all that surrounded us. Not bad. Some nice eye candy, some not so nice eye candy. Maybe even a prospect or two. But whatever, we weren't here for that...we needed to get down with our badselves...STAT!
Apparently, 10:30 is the bewitching hour in north Scottsdale. We were having a great time at the bar drinking and talking when all of a sudden we were surrounded by varying degrees of skank.
Let me paint you a picture...
1 - Black and gray sweater dress that was two sizes too small, and two feet too short. This look was brought together by the grill on her teefs.
2 - Red clingy dress. Super-plunge neckline. With a leopard print bra that was not made for clingy-super-plunge dresses. The leopard print was peeking out all over the place. She looked like Wild Kingdom.
3 - 8 months pregnant. 'Nuff said.
4 - Blond hair with blue hightlights. Lord Jesus...
5 - WTF? Is that a man? In a tube top and choker? (At this point I ordered a shot of tequila)
After a couple of hours (and several drinks) later, we decided the DJ was playing a good amount of booty shakin' music...so we headed to the dance floor to show 'em all how it's done.
They were line dancing. To hip-hop. WHAT THE HELL!?
We worked our way to the center of the dance floor and began to get our groove on. At one point a nice young man (whose mama is so proud of him, I'm sure...) leaned in to ask if Patti and I were lesbians. I'm not really sure why. We weren't dressed like ho-fessionals. And we weren't dancing like ho-fessionals. Maybe he's never seen some in the wild and was just curious so he asked the first set of girls he saw. I prolly should have sent him over to Wild Kingdom. huh. Anyway...always one to come back with a witty retort, I replied, " No, why are you?" I winked and shook it like Shakira to the other end of the dance floor.
If you're ever in Scottsdale, stop by Jilly's on a Saturday night. It's a good time.
Thank God for command decisions by Patti. After the afternoon I had on Saturday, I needed to work off my throbbing headache with some dancin', likker and my girlfriends.
We went to a club in north Scottsdale. We bellied up to the bar and began to survey all that surrounded us. Not bad. Some nice eye candy, some not so nice eye candy. Maybe even a prospect or two. But whatever, we weren't here for that...we needed to get down with our badselves...STAT!
Apparently, 10:30 is the bewitching hour in north Scottsdale. We were having a great time at the bar drinking and talking when all of a sudden we were surrounded by varying degrees of skank.
Let me paint you a picture...
1 - Black and gray sweater dress that was two sizes too small, and two feet too short. This look was brought together by the grill on her teefs.
2 - Red clingy dress. Super-plunge neckline. With a leopard print bra that was not made for clingy-super-plunge dresses. The leopard print was peeking out all over the place. She looked like Wild Kingdom.
3 - 8 months pregnant. 'Nuff said.
4 - Blond hair with blue hightlights. Lord Jesus...
5 - WTF? Is that a man? In a tube top and choker? (At this point I ordered a shot of tequila)
After a couple of hours (and several drinks) later, we decided the DJ was playing a good amount of booty shakin' music...so we headed to the dance floor to show 'em all how it's done.
They were line dancing. To hip-hop. WHAT THE HELL!?
We worked our way to the center of the dance floor and began to get our groove on. At one point a nice young man (whose mama is so proud of him, I'm sure...) leaned in to ask if Patti and I were lesbians. I'm not really sure why. We weren't dressed like ho-fessionals. And we weren't dancing like ho-fessionals. Maybe he's never seen some in the wild and was just curious so he asked the first set of girls he saw. I prolly should have sent him over to Wild Kingdom. huh. Anyway...always one to come back with a witty retort, I replied, " No, why are you?" I winked and shook it like Shakira to the other end of the dance floor.
If you're ever in Scottsdale, stop by Jilly's on a Saturday night. It's a good time.
Monday, September 24, 2007
How People See Me
I was watching a comedian last night. The comic said something sarcastic and my daughter howled, "Mom, that is SO you!" Which got me to thinking...how do people see me?
My friend ex-husband thinks I'm Dharma incarnate. I could think of worse things.
Christine also says I remind her of Rachel Ray because we're both silly as hell. I'll take it...
My Sister sees me as Julia Sugarbaker. Apparently I anihilate people when they get under my skin. But only when they really deserve it...
She also sees me as Sandra Bullock's character in Hope Floats. Sweet, huh?
My friend Christine sees me as Gracie Lou Freebush. In her words, "They based that character on you. You should be gettin royalties!"
My mother sees me as Suzanne Sugarbaker. Purely for the fact that I love wearing tiaras.
My friend ex-husband thinks I'm Dharma incarnate. I could think of worse things.
Christine also says I remind her of Rachel Ray because we're both silly as hell. I'll take it...
I've also been told that I remind people of Clairee from Steel Magnolias, Jeff Dunham's puppet Peanut and a host of other characters. As long as I don't start hearing voices, I'm golden.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Man Kisses Snake and Lives to Tell
Wed Sep 19, 4:35 PM ET
PORTLAND, Ore. - Snake collector Matt Wilkinson of Portland grabbed a 20-inch rattler from the highway near Maupin, and three weeks later, to impress his ex-girlfriend, he stuck the serpent in his mouth. (if there was ever a “Do you know what that fool did?” moment…this was it.)
He was soon near death with a swollen tongue that blocked his throat (well, whodda thunk?). Trauma doctors at the Oregon Health and Science University saved his life.
"You can assume alcohol was involved," he said. Actually, not just beer. It was something he called a "mixture of stupid stuff." (I don’t even want to know what kind of hooch this fool brewed up).
Calls from cable network television stations poured in Tuesday, when he still had sore muscles and nerves from the venom.
It happened at a barbecue with friends. (I think it's time to find new friends)
Wilkinson, 23, had downed a six-pack and his ex-girlfriend asked him for a beer. He handed her one, not realizing the snake was also in his hand. (How you gonna miss holding a snake in your damn hand!?)
"She said, 'Get that thing out of my face,'" Wilkinson said. "I told her it was a nice snake. 'Nothing can happen. Watch.'" (oooo! Let's sit back and watch de fun!)
So he stuck the snake in his mouth. (wow! I didn’t know I could roll my eyes that much. Cool)
"It got a hold of my tongue," he said.
He was having breathing problems when his ex-girlfriend drove him to the hospital. "She was the only one sober," Wilkinson said. (Okay, now I’m laughing)
En route, they spotted a police car and asked for help.
His next memory, he said, was waking up at the hospital.
Doctors could not get a breathing tube down his throat.
Dr. Richard Mullins cut a hole in Wilkinson's neck to insert the breathing tube. Physicians started giving antivenin, moved him to intensive care and kept him sedated until the swelling went down.
The Poison Control Center sees about 50 people a year with snake bites, usually hikers. Deaths from rattlesnake bites in Oregon are extremely rare.
Wilkinson, who works in construction, has yet to return to work. His three Western diamondback rattlers have been removed from his home. (This fool kept them as pets and thought they were ‘nice’. Son, that rattle at the end of their tails isn’t for samba music)
He says co-workers have been pretty blunt.
"They were like, 'What the heck were you thinking?'" Wilkinson said.
The answer? "It's my own stupidity." (And the Darwin Award for World’s Biggest Bonehead goes to…)
PORTLAND, Ore. - Snake collector Matt Wilkinson of Portland grabbed a 20-inch rattler from the highway near Maupin, and three weeks later, to impress his ex-girlfriend, he stuck the serpent in his mouth. (if there was ever a “Do you know what that fool did?” moment…this was it.)
He was soon near death with a swollen tongue that blocked his throat (well, whodda thunk?). Trauma doctors at the Oregon Health and Science University saved his life.
"You can assume alcohol was involved," he said. Actually, not just beer. It was something he called a "mixture of stupid stuff." (I don’t even want to know what kind of hooch this fool brewed up).
Calls from cable network television stations poured in Tuesday, when he still had sore muscles and nerves from the venom.
It happened at a barbecue with friends. (I think it's time to find new friends)
Wilkinson, 23, had downed a six-pack and his ex-girlfriend asked him for a beer. He handed her one, not realizing the snake was also in his hand. (How you gonna miss holding a snake in your damn hand!?)
"She said, 'Get that thing out of my face,'" Wilkinson said. "I told her it was a nice snake. 'Nothing can happen. Watch.'" (oooo! Let's sit back and watch de fun!)
So he stuck the snake in his mouth. (wow! I didn’t know I could roll my eyes that much. Cool)
"It got a hold of my tongue," he said.
He was having breathing problems when his ex-girlfriend drove him to the hospital. "She was the only one sober," Wilkinson said. (Okay, now I’m laughing)
En route, they spotted a police car and asked for help.
His next memory, he said, was waking up at the hospital.
Doctors could not get a breathing tube down his throat.
Dr. Richard Mullins cut a hole in Wilkinson's neck to insert the breathing tube. Physicians started giving antivenin, moved him to intensive care and kept him sedated until the swelling went down.
The Poison Control Center sees about 50 people a year with snake bites, usually hikers. Deaths from rattlesnake bites in Oregon are extremely rare.
Wilkinson, who works in construction, has yet to return to work. His three Western diamondback rattlers have been removed from his home. (This fool kept them as pets and thought they were ‘nice’. Son, that rattle at the end of their tails isn’t for samba music)
He says co-workers have been pretty blunt.
"They were like, 'What the heck were you thinking?'" Wilkinson said.
The answer? "It's my own stupidity." (And the Darwin Award for World’s Biggest Bonehead goes to…)
Sunday, September 16, 2007
I Got Nothing
Absolutely nothing today. I've decided that I need a hobby and have decided to take up golf. My step-dad will be my instructor and I'm fervently hoping that I don't nail him with my clubs.
Today, in the non-stop excitement that is your heroines life, I will be going to the grocery store and library. Followed by a rousing game of 'Let's Do The Laundry'.
Today's only saving grace is that it's Sunday and that means Sunday dinner. It also means another episode of "Rock of Love", which I'm currently addicted to (curse you Flava Flav!)
I know my daughter is going to want fried chicken. However, she is have to going to get used to disappointment. The Swanson family will be providing dinner tonight. They have the best frozen taters this side of the Mississippi.
That's pretty much all I've got. I start at the gym tomorrow and hope I don't die or pull anything. I also hope for some eye candy while I"m on the treadmill.
Have a great week!
Today, in the non-stop excitement that is your heroines life, I will be going to the grocery store and library. Followed by a rousing game of 'Let's Do The Laundry'.
Today's only saving grace is that it's Sunday and that means Sunday dinner. It also means another episode of "Rock of Love", which I'm currently addicted to (curse you Flava Flav!)
I know my daughter is going to want fried chicken. However, she is have to going to get used to disappointment. The Swanson family will be providing dinner tonight. They have the best frozen taters this side of the Mississippi.
That's pretty much all I've got. I start at the gym tomorrow and hope I don't die or pull anything. I also hope for some eye candy while I"m on the treadmill.
Have a great week!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
The Return of the Mack
I went shopping with a friend of mine last weekend. Nothing exciting like sex toys or organization materials. Just your average Sunday afternoon. The shopping complex we were at is huge. And by huge I mean gynormous. I haven't been to that complex a lot so I decided to drive around to see what there was to see. That's when I happened upon this...
I had to stop my car, turn around and take a picture with my phone. Now, I realize that this was just someone having a good time. But I'm adding it to the wonky stuff I see while driving around. Now, if I could only find a pair of those big baggy pants...
I had to stop my car, turn around and take a picture with my phone. Now, I realize that this was just someone having a good time. But I'm adding it to the wonky stuff I see while driving around. Now, if I could only find a pair of those big baggy pants...
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Handbasket? Party of One
I'm so going to hell. I know I shouldn't laugh at things like this...but dammit! It's funny...
VANCOUVER, Wash. - A woman is accused of shooting her husband four times with a 16-gauge double-barreled shotgun after learning of an affair. (Say it with me now…You Go Girl! [insert ‘Indiana Jones’ theme here]).
Eddie Martin, 51, survived the attack (lucky bastard), but may have to have a limb amputated (well, I can think of worse things ~ read: John Bobbit). Sheryl Martin, also 51, had to reload after the first two shots. (Girlfriend had time to reload. Damn. That’s just fucking fabulous!)
Martin made her first appearance on Monday in Clark County Superior Court (where I’m certain she looked just stunning). Martin was released on bail and will live with her parents (I’m sure her mama is so proud ~ wait…her parents are still alive!?). She will be formally charged September 21st (what type of gown does one wear to a ‘formal’ charge?).
Eddie Martin told his wife he was having an affair and wanted a divorce. (I guess he never heard the whole ‘hell hath no fury’ advice before. Bless his heart).
They argued and Eddie went to sleep in a camper (yeah, drop a bomb like that and stick around to see what happens. Not the brightest crayon in the box is he?).
Sheryl found a shotgun, loaded it and allegedly shot him while he was in bed. (is it wrong that I laughed at this?)
Sheryl Martin called 911 and told a dispatcher what she had done and was arrested on Saturday (see, now that’s just sweet. She called the Po Po to come save his dumb ass).
The pair have been married for 30 years. (Lawd, Jesus…[insert head shake here])
VANCOUVER, Wash. - A woman is accused of shooting her husband four times with a 16-gauge double-barreled shotgun after learning of an affair. (Say it with me now…You Go Girl! [insert ‘Indiana Jones’ theme here]).
Eddie Martin, 51, survived the attack (lucky bastard), but may have to have a limb amputated (well, I can think of worse things ~ read: John Bobbit). Sheryl Martin, also 51, had to reload after the first two shots. (Girlfriend had time to reload. Damn. That’s just fucking fabulous!)
Martin made her first appearance on Monday in Clark County Superior Court (where I’m certain she looked just stunning). Martin was released on bail and will live with her parents (I’m sure her mama is so proud ~ wait…her parents are still alive!?). She will be formally charged September 21st (what type of gown does one wear to a ‘formal’ charge?).
Eddie Martin told his wife he was having an affair and wanted a divorce. (I guess he never heard the whole ‘hell hath no fury’ advice before. Bless his heart).
They argued and Eddie went to sleep in a camper (yeah, drop a bomb like that and stick around to see what happens. Not the brightest crayon in the box is he?).
Sheryl found a shotgun, loaded it and allegedly shot him while he was in bed. (is it wrong that I laughed at this?)
Sheryl Martin called 911 and told a dispatcher what she had done and was arrested on Saturday (see, now that’s just sweet. She called the Po Po to come save his dumb ass).
The pair have been married for 30 years. (Lawd, Jesus…[insert head shake here])
Monday, September 10, 2007
It Doesn't Take Much to Keep Me Happy
Most commercials annoy the hell out of me. They're just dumb. And if that wasn't bad enough, the rotation schedule is completely out of control!
"I'm thiiiinking of a number..." * barf *
The commericals for Kia are the worst. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. And not because I'm a scorned Kia owner either, rather because the commercials are idiotic at best and are on every commercial break on every channel. For fuck sake, the most recent one was on last night at the beginning of the commercial break AND and the end.
The most recent submission by Kia being the "Save the Greenbacks" commerical where several (read: 10) volunteers in "offical" looking red jackets are tirelessly braving the deep blue ocean to save these poor little "green backs" from....huh. Now that I THINK about it, I'm not sure what they're being saved from. Possibly the WaMu guys, possibly from being put down a strippers g-string. Maybe evein from a tanker running aground by it's sauced captain.
My favorite part of this fine piece of advertising is the volunteer that is using what looks like a couple of vibrators in place of a defibrillator. I wasn't aware that there was an electric current running through $1 bills. Or that they were into self-gratification. Maybe I should post that on Wikipedia...
I hate this commercial with the white hot passion of a thousand suns.
On the flip side, I do have a couple of favorites.
1. EPT. The commerical opens with what looks like Darth Vader's new cruiser. But, no! It's not a spaceship at all. It's a home pregnancy test! *squee* And then the announcer, with his velvet voice says, "It's the most advanced piece of technology you'll ever...(and here's my favorite part ~ from stage right...a stream of liquid)...pee on. Pure. Genius. Unfortunately, the commercial has changed. People were offended by the pee. And now Mr. Velvet Voice says, "The most advanced piece of technology you'll ever (throat clear) you know." It's pee people! The Pepto commercials talk about diarehhea for chrissakes!
2. The Travelocity Roaming Gnome. I love it when he denounces the european electric converter myth. I'm not sure, though, which is my favorite part. Him being electrocuted and shot across the room. Or, when he says, "Am I going to die?"
3. Restless Leg Syndrome drug. I don't even know the name of it. But Lawd Jesus do I love the side affects. "If you develop a gambling or sexual habit, stop using and see your medical professional." The fuck? So, let me get this straight...to not have the tingly feeling on my legs, I can take a drug that will make me develop a gambling habit and start fucking animals? Well, thank God it's nothing serious.
"I'm thiiiinking of a number..." * barf *
The commericals for Kia are the worst. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. And not because I'm a scorned Kia owner either, rather because the commercials are idiotic at best and are on every commercial break on every channel. For fuck sake, the most recent one was on last night at the beginning of the commercial break AND and the end.
The most recent submission by Kia being the "Save the Greenbacks" commerical where several (read: 10) volunteers in "offical" looking red jackets are tirelessly braving the deep blue ocean to save these poor little "green backs" from....huh. Now that I THINK about it, I'm not sure what they're being saved from. Possibly the WaMu guys, possibly from being put down a strippers g-string. Maybe evein from a tanker running aground by it's sauced captain.
My favorite part of this fine piece of advertising is the volunteer that is using what looks like a couple of vibrators in place of a defibrillator. I wasn't aware that there was an electric current running through $1 bills. Or that they were into self-gratification. Maybe I should post that on Wikipedia...
I hate this commercial with the white hot passion of a thousand suns.
On the flip side, I do have a couple of favorites.
1. EPT. The commerical opens with what looks like Darth Vader's new cruiser. But, no! It's not a spaceship at all. It's a home pregnancy test! *squee* And then the announcer, with his velvet voice says, "It's the most advanced piece of technology you'll ever...(and here's my favorite part ~ from stage right...a stream of liquid)...pee on. Pure. Genius. Unfortunately, the commercial has changed. People were offended by the pee. And now Mr. Velvet Voice says, "The most advanced piece of technology you'll ever (throat clear) you know." It's pee people! The Pepto commercials talk about diarehhea for chrissakes!
2. The Travelocity Roaming Gnome. I love it when he denounces the european electric converter myth. I'm not sure, though, which is my favorite part. Him being electrocuted and shot across the room. Or, when he says, "Am I going to die?"
3. Restless Leg Syndrome drug. I don't even know the name of it. But Lawd Jesus do I love the side affects. "If you develop a gambling or sexual habit, stop using and see your medical professional." The fuck? So, let me get this straight...to not have the tingly feeling on my legs, I can take a drug that will make me develop a gambling habit and start fucking animals? Well, thank God it's nothing serious.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
A Bad Day to be a Dick
EDINBURGH (AFP) - A dwarf performer at the Edinburgh fringe festival had to be rushed to hospital after his penis got stuck to a vacuum cleaner during an act that went horribly awry.
Daniel Blackner, or "Captain Dan the Demon Dwarf", was due to perform at the Circus of Horrors at the festival known for its oddball, offbeat performances.
The main part of his act saw him appear on stage with a vacuum cleaner attached to his member through a special attachment.
The attachment broke before the performance and Blackner tried to fix it using extra-strong glue, but unfortunately only let it dry for 20 seconds instead of the 20 minutes required.
He then joined it directly to his organ. The end result? A solid attachment, laughter, mortification and ... hospitalisation.
"It was the most embarrassing moment of my life when I got wheeled into a packed AE with a vacuum attached to me," Blackner said.
"I just wished the ground could swallow me up. Luckily, they saw me quickly so the embarrassment was short-lived."
My Comments…
“horribly awry” was the best description they could come up with? Seriously?
Was this guy just sitting around one day and thought, “Hey! I’ll perform a vacuum cleaner blow job as entertainment! People will pay money to see that!” I mean, how bored (and twisted) do you need to be to come up with this?
Okay…did y’all catch that a dwarf just said that his embarrassment was short lived?
MOSCOW (Reuters) - A woman set fire to her ex-husband's penis as he sat naked watching television and drinking vodka, Moscow police said on Wednesday.
Asked if the man would make a full recovery, a police spokeswoman said it was "difficult to predict".
The attack climaxed three years of acrimonious enforced co-habitation. The couple divorced three years ago but continued to share a small flat, something common in Russia where property costs are very high.
"It was monstrously painful," the wounded ex-husband told Tvoi Den newspaper. "I was burning like a torch. I don't know what I did to deserve this."
OOO! OOO! Pick me! Pick me! I know!!
Daniel Blackner, or "Captain Dan the Demon Dwarf", was due to perform at the Circus of Horrors at the festival known for its oddball, offbeat performances.
The main part of his act saw him appear on stage with a vacuum cleaner attached to his member through a special attachment.
The attachment broke before the performance and Blackner tried to fix it using extra-strong glue, but unfortunately only let it dry for 20 seconds instead of the 20 minutes required.
He then joined it directly to his organ. The end result? A solid attachment, laughter, mortification and ... hospitalisation.
"It was the most embarrassing moment of my life when I got wheeled into a packed AE with a vacuum attached to me," Blackner said.
"I just wished the ground could swallow me up. Luckily, they saw me quickly so the embarrassment was short-lived."
My Comments…
“horribly awry” was the best description they could come up with? Seriously?
Was this guy just sitting around one day and thought, “Hey! I’ll perform a vacuum cleaner blow job as entertainment! People will pay money to see that!” I mean, how bored (and twisted) do you need to be to come up with this?
Okay…did y’all catch that a dwarf just said that his embarrassment was short lived?
MOSCOW (Reuters) - A woman set fire to her ex-husband's penis as he sat naked watching television and drinking vodka, Moscow police said on Wednesday.
Asked if the man would make a full recovery, a police spokeswoman said it was "difficult to predict".
The attack climaxed three years of acrimonious enforced co-habitation. The couple divorced three years ago but continued to share a small flat, something common in Russia where property costs are very high.
"It was monstrously painful," the wounded ex-husband told Tvoi Den newspaper. "I was burning like a torch. I don't know what I did to deserve this."
OOO! OOO! Pick me! Pick me! I know!!
Monday, August 20, 2007
True Stories of Dell Technical Support
My dad bought my daughter a laptop. The thing wouldn’t power up when we got it, so I called Dell Technical Support. Of course, I was connected with India. My call was routed to a very cordial young man named, Damandeep.
Girl, yes…DA MAN DEEP.
This tickled me so much that I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying to me, so I had to think of him as “Steve”. “Steve” couldn’t help me power up my hoopdee laptop, so he sent me on to customer care and had me order a replacement.
Before he transferred me, he said that he would send me an email confirming our conversation and my replacement order.
I got the email this morning.
It was signed….
Love,
Deep
I giggled about this for a while. Then I decided that it was a message from the Universe reminding me to “love deep”. I got it, Universe. I’ll remember to love deep.
Girl, yes…DA MAN DEEP.
This tickled me so much that I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying to me, so I had to think of him as “Steve”. “Steve” couldn’t help me power up my hoopdee laptop, so he sent me on to customer care and had me order a replacement.
Before he transferred me, he said that he would send me an email confirming our conversation and my replacement order.
I got the email this morning.
It was signed….
Love,
Deep
I giggled about this for a while. Then I decided that it was a message from the Universe reminding me to “love deep”. I got it, Universe. I’ll remember to love deep.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Lately...
I haven't been up to much lately.
I was horribly depressed for a few years and have just recently decided to drive my own life instead of being a passenger. I'm surrounded by a lot of people who love me so my only option is to succeed.
I wish I could say that I'm wildly in love with my soul mate. But the truth of the matter is I don't date much. Not that I don't want to, I'm just incredibly picky and have no tolerance for games or idiots. That significantly decreases the pool of which I have to pick from. I'm really not all that worried about it, either. Prince Charming will come along someday and I'll be right there ready to rescue him.
My daughter is doing well. She loves school and is looking forward to getting her license. She has some good friends and I pray she's as blessed as I am and their friendships will last beyond high school. She has a friend named Taylor who reminds me of my friend Brenda. Everyone should have a Bren in their life.
Work is good. I adore my boss and she is one of my biggest supporters. I haven't been there for a year yet and by some miracle have made some very close friends. I told my friend Sharra that for my birthday I wanted a Fireman-Baseball Player-Cowboy-Policeman-Chef. I told her (in my own words), "Make it happen!" Y'all know how bossy I can be. Well, she did. During my weekly team meeting, in walked two of the IT guys. One was holding a laptop that was playing some music and the other one had written me a birthday rap and was rappin'. One by one, in walked a Fireman, Policeman, Cowboy, Baseball Player, Chef. She had somehow convinced some of our V.P.'s to dress up and be my "Mega Man" for my birthday. The chef was one of the owners, he brought in my favorite...a key lime cheesecake. My cube was silly with confetti, flowers and balloons. It was the greatest birthday and I felt so loved. All I can say is Sharra had better watch out....
I was horribly depressed for a few years and have just recently decided to drive my own life instead of being a passenger. I'm surrounded by a lot of people who love me so my only option is to succeed.
I wish I could say that I'm wildly in love with my soul mate. But the truth of the matter is I don't date much. Not that I don't want to, I'm just incredibly picky and have no tolerance for games or idiots. That significantly decreases the pool of which I have to pick from. I'm really not all that worried about it, either. Prince Charming will come along someday and I'll be right there ready to rescue him.
My daughter is doing well. She loves school and is looking forward to getting her license. She has some good friends and I pray she's as blessed as I am and their friendships will last beyond high school. She has a friend named Taylor who reminds me of my friend Brenda. Everyone should have a Bren in their life.
Work is good. I adore my boss and she is one of my biggest supporters. I haven't been there for a year yet and by some miracle have made some very close friends. I told my friend Sharra that for my birthday I wanted a Fireman-Baseball Player-Cowboy-Policeman-Chef. I told her (in my own words), "Make it happen!" Y'all know how bossy I can be. Well, she did. During my weekly team meeting, in walked two of the IT guys. One was holding a laptop that was playing some music and the other one had written me a birthday rap and was rappin'. One by one, in walked a Fireman, Policeman, Cowboy, Baseball Player, Chef. She had somehow convinced some of our V.P.'s to dress up and be my "Mega Man" for my birthday. The chef was one of the owners, he brought in my favorite...a key lime cheesecake. My cube was silly with confetti, flowers and balloons. It was the greatest birthday and I felt so loved. All I can say is Sharra had better watch out....
Family is doing great! My mom just go remarried in July and my neice just took her first steps. My baby sister and nephew are beautiful and I wished they lived closer so I could see them more often. Maybe I just need to make more of an effort to go see them. I love them to all my heart! My Dad moved to MT and seems very happy to be back in his hometown. I'm happy for him, I think it's good for him to be in the mountains, they're very much a part of him.
Let's see...I've covered work, family, kid, love life. What's left?
Friends...I have the best friends in the whole whirrled! My life is just silly with good girlfriends and even a couple of ex-boyfriends. My buddies are generous, caring, silly, crazy, sentimental and neener, neener....they're all mine.
Love ya, mean it! Seriously...I love y'all like a fat kid loves cake.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
My Booba
There was a strong thunderstorm south of Phoenix last night. It was right on top of Casa Grande and moving west. The weatherman on the late night news wasn’t expecting the storm to move into the metro Phoenix area. He said, at most, Queen Creek may get a few sprinkles. The storm was about an hour away of where we live.
Well, this storm had other ideas and was determined to prove the forecasters wrong.
It started to thunder around 10:30. Not too loud, just some gentle rolling thunder. My daughter had already been in bed for a while, so I wasn’t worried that the thunder would wake her up. Once that kid’s asleep, she’s out for the night. Around 11:30 the thunder got a little louder and the lightening made the night seem like day. Then the thunder got LOUD. This storm meant business. Luckily, my daughter was still asleep. By now it was 12:30.
All of a sudden, there was an incredibly bright flash of lightening that illuminated my entire room, immediately followed by a very large, very loud, very frightening clap of thunder. Fifteen seconds later, I heard the pitter patter of my daughter’s feet. She climbed into bed with me and snuggled close. There were a couple more loud thunderclaps. With each clap, she cuddled closer. After a while, I noticed that her breathing had become regular and the thunder was no longer making her tremble. She had fallen asleep with her head on my chest and my arms around her, holding her close...keeping her safe from harm.
I started to cry. Not because I missed my “baby” or because I knew in a few short years she would be an adult and I would no longer be able to hold her like this. But for all the parents whose children were taken from them too soon; and for all the children who have never had a parent hold them close to keep them safe from the thunder.
My daughter slept for an hour before she rolled over and realized where she was. By that time the storm had passed and she was brave enough to go back to her own bed. After she left I laid there and was keenly aware that I could still feel the warmth from her head on my chest. I thanked God right at that moment, with all the humility in my heart, for blessing me with a child. And not just any child, but with her. I am a better person for just having known her and my life is full because of her.
Well, this storm had other ideas and was determined to prove the forecasters wrong.
It started to thunder around 10:30. Not too loud, just some gentle rolling thunder. My daughter had already been in bed for a while, so I wasn’t worried that the thunder would wake her up. Once that kid’s asleep, she’s out for the night. Around 11:30 the thunder got a little louder and the lightening made the night seem like day. Then the thunder got LOUD. This storm meant business. Luckily, my daughter was still asleep. By now it was 12:30.
All of a sudden, there was an incredibly bright flash of lightening that illuminated my entire room, immediately followed by a very large, very loud, very frightening clap of thunder. Fifteen seconds later, I heard the pitter patter of my daughter’s feet. She climbed into bed with me and snuggled close. There were a couple more loud thunderclaps. With each clap, she cuddled closer. After a while, I noticed that her breathing had become regular and the thunder was no longer making her tremble. She had fallen asleep with her head on my chest and my arms around her, holding her close...keeping her safe from harm.
I started to cry. Not because I missed my “baby” or because I knew in a few short years she would be an adult and I would no longer be able to hold her like this. But for all the parents whose children were taken from them too soon; and for all the children who have never had a parent hold them close to keep them safe from the thunder.
My daughter slept for an hour before she rolled over and realized where she was. By that time the storm had passed and she was brave enough to go back to her own bed. After she left I laid there and was keenly aware that I could still feel the warmth from her head on my chest. I thanked God right at that moment, with all the humility in my heart, for blessing me with a child. And not just any child, but with her. I am a better person for just having known her and my life is full because of her.
Monday, July 30, 2007
The "baby's" first date
My "baby" had her first real date this past weekend. Her boyfriend came to pick her up and take her to a movie. Okay, so his parents drove them. He's only 14 and all he can drive is his skateboard.
The boyfriends name is Richard. After they left I thought to myself, "Well, I just met 'Little Richard'." And then got a picture of the real Little Richard in my mind. Lord help me, but all I could see was that Geico commercial he was in.
I giggled all damn afternoon. It doesn't take much to make me happy.
Also this weekend...
The episode of "Paula's Party" that I was on aired again. Apparently this was the episode to watch. I've heard from more people about it today. I've been dubbed the Food Network Star of my family and company. Great...my claim to fame is fried balls.
I guess we all have to have our special talents.
The boyfriends name is Richard. After they left I thought to myself, "Well, I just met 'Little Richard'." And then got a picture of the real Little Richard in my mind. Lord help me, but all I could see was that Geico commercial he was in.
I giggled all damn afternoon. It doesn't take much to make me happy.
Also this weekend...
The episode of "Paula's Party" that I was on aired again. Apparently this was the episode to watch. I've heard from more people about it today. I've been dubbed the Food Network Star of my family and company. Great...my claim to fame is fried balls.
I guess we all have to have our special talents.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
We've Come Full Circle
My daughter is back from summer vacation with her dad. I was doing laundry this weekend and noticed that she had bought some new chonies. I held a pair up and started to giggle. These things are as small as the My Little Pony chonies I bought her when she was three! Then I held up a pair of my chonies and went straight to the gym.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Friday's Thought
A Relationship With Self
The most important relationship we have in our lives is with ourselves. And even though we are the only ones who are present at every moment of our lives—from birth onward—this relationship can be the most difficult one to cultivate. This may be because society places such emphasis on the importance of being in a romantic partnership, even teaching us to set aside our own needs for the needs of another. Until we know ourselves, we cannot possibly choose the right relationship to support our growth toward our highest potential. By allowing ourselves to be comfortable with being alone, we will bring the people with whom we want to have a relationship closer. Once we’ve satisfied our needs and created our support system, a mate then becomes someone with whom we can share the bounty of all we’ve created and the beauty we’ve discovered within ourselves.
As we move away from tradition and fall into more natural cycles of being in the world today, we may find that there are times where being alone nourishes us and other periods in which a partnership is best for our growth. We may need to learn to create spaces to be alone within relationships. When we can shift our expectations of our relationships with ourselves and others to opportunities for discovery, we open ourselves to forge new paths and encounter uncharted territory. Being willing to know and love ourselves, and to find what truly makes us feel deeply and strongly, gives us the advantage of being able to attract and choose the right people with whom to share ourselves. Choosing to enjoy being alone allows us to fully explore our most important relationship—the one with our true selves.
I received this from my boss. It made me wonder, "What does she see in me?"
The most important relationship we have in our lives is with ourselves. And even though we are the only ones who are present at every moment of our lives—from birth onward—this relationship can be the most difficult one to cultivate. This may be because society places such emphasis on the importance of being in a romantic partnership, even teaching us to set aside our own needs for the needs of another. Until we know ourselves, we cannot possibly choose the right relationship to support our growth toward our highest potential. By allowing ourselves to be comfortable with being alone, we will bring the people with whom we want to have a relationship closer. Once we’ve satisfied our needs and created our support system, a mate then becomes someone with whom we can share the bounty of all we’ve created and the beauty we’ve discovered within ourselves.
As we move away from tradition and fall into more natural cycles of being in the world today, we may find that there are times where being alone nourishes us and other periods in which a partnership is best for our growth. We may need to learn to create spaces to be alone within relationships. When we can shift our expectations of our relationships with ourselves and others to opportunities for discovery, we open ourselves to forge new paths and encounter uncharted territory. Being willing to know and love ourselves, and to find what truly makes us feel deeply and strongly, gives us the advantage of being able to attract and choose the right people with whom to share ourselves. Choosing to enjoy being alone allows us to fully explore our most important relationship—the one with our true selves.
I received this from my boss. It made me wonder, "What does she see in me?"
Thursday, July 19, 2007
One Word
I received a "chain" e-mail from a friend this week. The e-mail directed to to respond to your friend with one word. One word that describes them. Then, forward it to all of your friends. The objective being that you'll learn what others think of you. I guess you could just ask them, but where's the fun in that? Here are what my friends think of me:
AWESOME
Wubba (inside joke ~ think MTV in the early 90’s)
Fun
Confident
Selfless
Mischievous
Drew (as in Barrymore)
Quirky (isn’t that how Seinfeld described ‘George Costanza’?)
Mischievous (damn! I got this one twice!)
Rambunctious
Disturbed, Demented, Psychotic, Unbalanced, Crazy ~ but in a good way
Exuberant
Goober (from my child)
Silly
Friend
Different
GracieLou (from my friend Chris. She said there wasn’t just one word that defined me, but this was close).
My WorkHusband didn't reply. We're so in a fight.
AWESOME
Wubba (inside joke ~ think MTV in the early 90’s)
Fun
Confident
Selfless
Mischievous
Drew (as in Barrymore)
Quirky (isn’t that how Seinfeld described ‘George Costanza’?)
Mischievous (damn! I got this one twice!)
Rambunctious
Disturbed, Demented, Psychotic, Unbalanced, Crazy ~ but in a good way
Exuberant
Goober (from my child)
Silly
Friend
Different
GracieLou (from my friend Chris. She said there wasn’t just one word that defined me, but this was close).
My WorkHusband didn't reply. We're so in a fight.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
My Best Good Friend
I gathered the mail for my boss while she was on vacation. One of the pieces of mail she received was the community newsletter for DC Ranch. I admit, I had to open it and take a look. After all, my best good friend Vanessa is the community manager. On the front of the newsletter was a story about the recent change of security providers.
I felt myself swell with pride. Years of hard work, determination and perseverance had come to fruition. The previous security company was awful. Awful in every sense and definition of the word. Vanessa championed this issue for the residents and found a solution. And her solution was there, right on the front page.
I admire this woman so much. She challenges me to be the best of version of me and she loves me not in spite of things, but because of them. She’s intelligent, beautiful and loves spreadsheets and PowerPoint presentations. My life is sweeter for just having known her. I pray that everyone finds a friend like my Vanessa. But, not my Vanessa…’cause I ain’t sharing.
I felt myself swell with pride. Years of hard work, determination and perseverance had come to fruition. The previous security company was awful. Awful in every sense and definition of the word. Vanessa championed this issue for the residents and found a solution. And her solution was there, right on the front page.
I admire this woman so much. She challenges me to be the best of version of me and she loves me not in spite of things, but because of them. She’s intelligent, beautiful and loves spreadsheets and PowerPoint presentations. My life is sweeter for just having known her. I pray that everyone finds a friend like my Vanessa. But, not my Vanessa…’cause I ain’t sharing.
Monday, July 16, 2007
I wonder if there's a cookbook...
I was browsing the Food Network website looking at the recipes of the day. I found this ad next to a recipe for low-carb cheese snacks...
Enema Recipe
Fantastic Enema Recipes Reviewed
And Rated For You!
Colon-Cleansings.info
Lawd Jesus...
Enema Recipe
Fantastic Enema Recipes Reviewed
And Rated For You!
Colon-Cleansings.info
Lawd Jesus...
Friday, July 13, 2007
Summ-summ-summertime...
As the weather turned warmer and the days grew longer...
it still didn't feel like summer.
As the smell of charcoal and grilled meats filled the air...
it still didn't feel like summer.
As the sound of children laughing and splashing in the pool was heard throughout the day it still didn't feel like summer.
It didn't feel like summer until last night when those loud ass Palo Verde beetles came out and started their annoying buzzing. These things are huge. Seriously, they could rape a chicken.
I grew up in a house that had a bug zapper on the back patio. You know...one of those lantern looking things that attraced bugs with it's alluring blue glow only to turn them into fried little bug bits (I think this is a delicacy in some countries). Now, normally when a regular size bug hits the zapper, it's quick and over. Not so for the Palo Verde beetle. These things are at least two inches in length and I swear they put up a fight when they hit the zapper. There's smoke, an acrid smell and sometimes flames. And they take for-freaking-ever to get done cooking. Rachel Ray would hate these things because they take longer than 30 minutes (wink wink).
I've seen a bug zapping device that is shaped like a tennis racket, only without the strings. With one fell swoop of your Bug Racket you can take down a whole family of creepy crawlies. I'm not someone who should own one of these things. With my luck, I would swing and miss the bugs and the racket would go over my head and I'd end up looking like the Bride of Frankenstein. Not a good look for summer.
it still didn't feel like summer.
As the smell of charcoal and grilled meats filled the air...
it still didn't feel like summer.
As the sound of children laughing and splashing in the pool was heard throughout the day it still didn't feel like summer.
It didn't feel like summer until last night when those loud ass Palo Verde beetles came out and started their annoying buzzing. These things are huge. Seriously, they could rape a chicken.
I grew up in a house that had a bug zapper on the back patio. You know...one of those lantern looking things that attraced bugs with it's alluring blue glow only to turn them into fried little bug bits (I think this is a delicacy in some countries). Now, normally when a regular size bug hits the zapper, it's quick and over. Not so for the Palo Verde beetle. These things are at least two inches in length and I swear they put up a fight when they hit the zapper. There's smoke, an acrid smell and sometimes flames. And they take for-freaking-ever to get done cooking. Rachel Ray would hate these things because they take longer than 30 minutes (wink wink).
I've seen a bug zapping device that is shaped like a tennis racket, only without the strings. With one fell swoop of your Bug Racket you can take down a whole family of creepy crawlies. I'm not someone who should own one of these things. With my luck, I would swing and miss the bugs and the racket would go over my head and I'd end up looking like the Bride of Frankenstein. Not a good look for summer.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Rubber Bands of the Apocolypse
So yesterday, I had this rubber band around my wrist. I took it off of something and put it on my wrist and it just stayed there. I have no idea why, so don’t ask.
Fast forward to later in the day. I’m in the copy room getting a bunch of stuff together. As I’m walking out of the copy room, I feel something tickle my wrist and immediately think that it’s a spider or some other sort of creepy crawly (not that the copy room is like the Crypt Keepers lair or anything, but you know how I am). So I drop my papers and do the hibbidy-jibbidy dance, all the while saying, “Get it off me! Get it off me!”. Only to realize seconds later that it’s the rubber band that has been on my wrist all day.
I realize for me, this is nothing new. I routinely freak out about bugs. Bugs and porcelain dolls...freaky deaky. However, these people I work with have never been witness to my brand of crazy. I guess you could say they were “baptized” yesterday.
With all the grace and dignity I could muster, while the laughter of my co-workers surrounded me, I calmly picked up my papers and walked back to my desk. Those who were laughing are on “The List” and the retribution will be swift and decisive. They have yet to be witness to my brand of evil. Silly rabbits.
Fast forward to later in the day. I’m in the copy room getting a bunch of stuff together. As I’m walking out of the copy room, I feel something tickle my wrist and immediately think that it’s a spider or some other sort of creepy crawly (not that the copy room is like the Crypt Keepers lair or anything, but you know how I am). So I drop my papers and do the hibbidy-jibbidy dance, all the while saying, “Get it off me! Get it off me!”. Only to realize seconds later that it’s the rubber band that has been on my wrist all day.
I realize for me, this is nothing new. I routinely freak out about bugs. Bugs and porcelain dolls...freaky deaky. However, these people I work with have never been witness to my brand of crazy. I guess you could say they were “baptized” yesterday.
With all the grace and dignity I could muster, while the laughter of my co-workers surrounded me, I calmly picked up my papers and walked back to my desk. Those who were laughing are on “The List” and the retribution will be swift and decisive. They have yet to be witness to my brand of evil. Silly rabbits.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Think they'll barbeque?
Is it just me, or does this kid look like he's holding a paintball gun?
Can you even imagine the interview with CNN?
"So, tell me..how did you kill this 'Hogzilla'?" asks Anderson Cooper.
"Well, me and the fellers were in the woods playing 'Deliverance' when this big 'ol hog just comes outta nowheres. So I shot it with my paintball gun and that damn hog was so overweight it had a heart attack and died right on the spot."
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
There should be a ticket for this
I was waiting at a stop light this morning when a ferrari drove by. Normally I wouldn't care. However, this fool had painted his ferrari to look like Speed Racer's car. You know, like this:
What the hell!? Why in the world would you do this to a Ferrari!? Now, I didn't get upset when I saw a Charger painted like the General Lee or a van gussied up like The Mystery Machine (ZOIKS!)...but to paint a Ferrari like a bad Japanese cartoon.
Well, there should just a ticket for this.
What the hell!? Why in the world would you do this to a Ferrari!? Now, I didn't get upset when I saw a Charger painted like the General Lee or a van gussied up like The Mystery Machine (ZOIKS!)...but to paint a Ferrari like a bad Japanese cartoon.
Well, there should just a ticket for this.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Shamu and the Freeway
I was driving home from the library this weekend when I saw a most peculiar sight. A black Ford F-150 was driving down the freeway, and in the bed of this truck was a bunch of killer whales and one giant swan.
Yes, I realize they were pool toys. But, still! To see a pick-up truck with giant swans and killer whales as cargo? That's just funny.
Yes, I realize they were pool toys. But, still! To see a pick-up truck with giant swans and killer whales as cargo? That's just funny.
Deep Fried What!?
Okay, here it is. Proof that I'm not the only one deep frying something that just shouldn't be. And of course, I had to comment...
Wis. festival sells deep-fried testicles
Sun May 13, 2:56 PM ET
Around here, it may be tough to pass up anything deep-fried. (Like butter?)
Wisconsinites have deep-fried cheese curds (okay, that’s weirder than butter), candy bars and Twinkies. They now have deep-fried livestock testicles, too. (Being from MT and all, this is nothing new).
More than 300 people paid $5 for all-you-can-eat goat, lamb and bull testicles Saturday at the ninth annual Testicle Festival (*snork* it rhymes!) at Mama's Place Bar and Grill in Elderon in central Wisconsin.
"Once you get over the mental (aspect) of what you're eating, it's just like eating any other food, and it tastes good," Buster Hoffman said. (Fool, no it don’t!)
Festival founder Nancy Fenske said the festival grew out of her late husband Roger's birthday party 12 years ago. (Was she mad at him? What kind of man wants his birthday to revolve around deep fried balls?) They decided to have "a nut fry" at Mama's Place after bringing back lamb fries from a trip to Montana. (Wait, wait. A ‘Nut Fry’? Lawd, lawd, lawd…)
The event grew every year and now they fry up to 100 pounds of testicles, she said.
"What else can you do in a small town?" Fenske said. (I don’t know, read a book?)
Butch Joubert, 58, likes the parts sandwiched between bread with tartar sauce. (Say it with me, eeewww!) “They're not so different from regular meatballs also served at the festival”, he said. (Fool, yes they are!)
"After a few beers, you can't really tell the difference," Joubert said. (Ahh, the ‘after a few beers’ defense – always a classic)
Wis. festival sells deep-fried testicles
Sun May 13, 2:56 PM ET
Around here, it may be tough to pass up anything deep-fried. (Like butter?)
Wisconsinites have deep-fried cheese curds (okay, that’s weirder than butter), candy bars and Twinkies. They now have deep-fried livestock testicles, too. (Being from MT and all, this is nothing new).
More than 300 people paid $5 for all-you-can-eat goat, lamb and bull testicles Saturday at the ninth annual Testicle Festival (*snork* it rhymes!) at Mama's Place Bar and Grill in Elderon in central Wisconsin.
"Once you get over the mental (aspect) of what you're eating, it's just like eating any other food, and it tastes good," Buster Hoffman said. (Fool, no it don’t!)
Festival founder Nancy Fenske said the festival grew out of her late husband Roger's birthday party 12 years ago. (Was she mad at him? What kind of man wants his birthday to revolve around deep fried balls?) They decided to have "a nut fry" at Mama's Place after bringing back lamb fries from a trip to Montana. (Wait, wait. A ‘Nut Fry’? Lawd, lawd, lawd…)
The event grew every year and now they fry up to 100 pounds of testicles, she said.
"What else can you do in a small town?" Fenske said. (I don’t know, read a book?)
Butch Joubert, 58, likes the parts sandwiched between bread with tartar sauce. (Say it with me, eeewww!) “They're not so different from regular meatballs also served at the festival”, he said. (Fool, yes they are!)
"After a few beers, you can't really tell the difference," Joubert said. (Ahh, the ‘after a few beers’ defense – always a classic)
Sunday, May 13, 2007
The Tire Swing
So many of us are on "auto pilot" when we drive in to work each morning. We take the same route, see the same buildings and for the most part never notice anything new.
I am no different.
However, on my way in to work last week I did notice something new.
It was very early in the morning and the sun was just starting to peak it's head over the horizon. To my right was a home with a huge tree in the front yard. Attached to that tree was a tire swing. Like a scene from a Lifetime movie starring Nancy McKeon or Meredith Baxter-Birney, the sun was shining through this swing giving it a warming glow and evoking memories of a childhood long past. And then I smiled like an idiot all the way to my office. Just seeing that swing had made me...happy.
Now, this tire swing wasn't some sanitized version you can get at your local Toys-R-Us. This was a genuine big 'ol used tractor tire hung to a branch with some rope. And not that wimpy yellow kind either! You know, the kind that has wax on it so you don't hurt your freshly manicured hands? Ahh no, this tire swing had the brown, frayed rope that would leave a burn on your hands that you would never forget!
I have to admit, I was envious of this family. I have always wanted a tire swing. I thought, "The children who live there are soo lucky!" And then I wondered, "Why do we put those up just for kids? Why can't I have one?"
So, I'm making this my solemn vow...where ever life takes me, I promise to always have a tire swing in my front yard. And not just for me to play on, either. But also to evoke childhood memories, give someone something new to notice, and to make people smile.
Of course, being as clutzy as I am, I'm certain to be injured on or by the swing. But that will just add to it's character.
I am no different.
However, on my way in to work last week I did notice something new.
It was very early in the morning and the sun was just starting to peak it's head over the horizon. To my right was a home with a huge tree in the front yard. Attached to that tree was a tire swing. Like a scene from a Lifetime movie starring Nancy McKeon or Meredith Baxter-Birney, the sun was shining through this swing giving it a warming glow and evoking memories of a childhood long past. And then I smiled like an idiot all the way to my office. Just seeing that swing had made me...happy.
Now, this tire swing wasn't some sanitized version you can get at your local Toys-R-Us. This was a genuine big 'ol used tractor tire hung to a branch with some rope. And not that wimpy yellow kind either! You know, the kind that has wax on it so you don't hurt your freshly manicured hands? Ahh no, this tire swing had the brown, frayed rope that would leave a burn on your hands that you would never forget!
I have to admit, I was envious of this family. I have always wanted a tire swing. I thought, "The children who live there are soo lucky!" And then I wondered, "Why do we put those up just for kids? Why can't I have one?"
So, I'm making this my solemn vow...where ever life takes me, I promise to always have a tire swing in my front yard. And not just for me to play on, either. But also to evoke childhood memories, give someone something new to notice, and to make people smile.
Of course, being as clutzy as I am, I'm certain to be injured on or by the swing. But that will just add to it's character.
Monday, April 30, 2007
The Fried Butter Balls That Took Over the World
I feel like Brain. You know, from 'Pinky & The Brain'. My diabolical plan to take over the world is in motion. (insert maniacal laugh here). And, if that's the case, Bobby Deen is my 'Pinky' because that's where all crazy ideas start.
My Deep Fried Butter Balls (even though Food Network touts them as Paulas) are the topic of many a blog. I have, with the assistance of Paula Deen and the Food Network, grossed out an entire nation!
I have to say, I agree with most of them. No on in their right mind should eat them. They were a joke. Period.
Not. Meant. For. Consumption.
However, a few brave (ok, crazy) souls made them. And enjoyed them. Yes, enjoyed them. Silly rabbits.
http://kraft.liveworld.com/thread.jspa?messageID=1700006258&tstart=0]Kraft
http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/my_recipe_box/review/0,1973,FOOD_9919_34925,00.html]Food
My Deep Fried Butter Balls (even though Food Network touts them as Paulas) are the topic of many a blog. I have, with the assistance of Paula Deen and the Food Network, grossed out an entire nation!
I have to say, I agree with most of them. No on in their right mind should eat them. They were a joke. Period.
Not. Meant. For. Consumption.
However, a few brave (ok, crazy) souls made them. And enjoyed them. Yes, enjoyed them. Silly rabbits.
http://kraft.liveworld.com/thread.jspa?messageID=1700006258&tstart=0]Kraft
http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/my_recipe_box/review/0,1973,FOOD_9919_34925,00.html]Food
Thursday, April 26, 2007
What the hell?
I've said before that my special gift from God is that I see random, weird stuff while I'm driving around.
This past weekend was no exception.
I was sitting at at stop light when a white Scion drove by. Normally, I wouldn't care, but this particular Scion had polka dots all over it. Multi-colored polka dots.
This wouldn't have given me pause if say, the car was advertising clown services or for a graphics company. But there were no such advertisements. This person was driving around with mulit-colored polka dots for no good reason. It looked like her car caught the Clown Measeles or the Circus Pox.
I think that the reason that I'm around when this stuff happens and that I notice it is just proof that God wants me to laugh.
This past weekend was no exception.
I was sitting at at stop light when a white Scion drove by. Normally, I wouldn't care, but this particular Scion had polka dots all over it. Multi-colored polka dots.
This wouldn't have given me pause if say, the car was advertising clown services or for a graphics company. But there were no such advertisements. This person was driving around with mulit-colored polka dots for no good reason. It looked like her car caught the Clown Measeles or the Circus Pox.
I think that the reason that I'm around when this stuff happens and that I notice it is just proof that God wants me to laugh.
Bless their little hearts
I was thoroughly enjoying myself last Sunday morning. It was cold and blustery and I was at Einstein's enjoying a bagel and a cuppa coffee, when I saw a most peculiar site.
Three girls were walking towards the store. One was in a pink Juicy sweatsuit, with 4" heels, the second was in a t-shirt, skirt and flip flops, and girl three looked like she was getting ready to go clubbing. They had all obviously slept in their makeup.
And then it hit me. They had gone out the previous evening and had a slumber party and were going out for Hangover Breakfast. Their fatal flaw was not planning ahead and going to a bagel shop. I mean really...Clubbing 101 clearly states that the morning after breakfast shall consist of Diet Pepsi and curly fries. Silly rabbits.
It's just an unwritten rule that when you go out with your crew, you bring the obligatory change of clothes. That way, you don't go to Einsteins at 8:00 in the morning looking like a hooker.
pffft...ameteurs.
Three girls were walking towards the store. One was in a pink Juicy sweatsuit, with 4" heels, the second was in a t-shirt, skirt and flip flops, and girl three looked like she was getting ready to go clubbing. They had all obviously slept in their makeup.
And then it hit me. They had gone out the previous evening and had a slumber party and were going out for Hangover Breakfast. Their fatal flaw was not planning ahead and going to a bagel shop. I mean really...Clubbing 101 clearly states that the morning after breakfast shall consist of Diet Pepsi and curly fries. Silly rabbits.
It's just an unwritten rule that when you go out with your crew, you bring the obligatory change of clothes. That way, you don't go to Einsteins at 8:00 in the morning looking like a hooker.
pffft...ameteurs.
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