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Nov. 26th, 2009

Going Home


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Driving back to Texas tomorrow.



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Nov. 18th, 2009

Another old picture


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My step-brother sent another old photo I've never seen. I'm on the left, then sisters, then step-brothers. This is from the famous "I've Got A Bubble-Gum Cigar Proudly Placed in my Breast Pocket" photo series. I quite possibly cut my own bangs too.




Btw, "breast pocket" is really an ugly little term, isn't it? It sounds like something I could possibly look forward to in old age.

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Nov. 16th, 2009

Letter

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Dear Dude(s) Crossing the Street,

Lately you guys like to cross the empty street late at night just as my car approaches. You like to slooooooow down and stare at me as my car pulls closer. I have to put on my brakes and watch you strut, scowl at me, and you finally just stop in the middle of the damn road. When I finally decide to go around you, you scream obscenities and punch my car as I pass.

I know the pedestrian has the right of way, but you are not on a cross-walk. And, let's face it, you're just trying to stir up some drama because you're bored and insecure. I just can't imagine the excitement involved (or anything to brag about to your friends) in going out of your way to make a polite girl stop her car for you in a sleepy vacation town. "Man, you shoulda seen me make her stop her car---I WAS SUCH A BADASS."

If you wanna pretend you're some kind of gangster out defending himself late at night in the 'hood, just know that next time I'll make your story more interesting and actually run over you. Now that we've established you won't be moving, and that my car gets punched when I pass you, I believe I'd rather dent my car with your stupid face.

Ok, that's all I've got to say about that.




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Nov. 11th, 2009

Special Feature



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Last weekend I lifted my arm to pull my hair up into a pony-tail and caused my phone to fall out of my jacket pocket, bounce on the toilet seat, and fall into the toilet. It was completely submerged, glub glub glub, bubbles, filling with water...

So I figure it's a goner, but the lights are still on when I pull it out. What the hell, it's already wet, so I rinse it off with cleaner water and dry it. Remove the battery. I let it sit for an hour, as supposedly you should let it dry inside before trying it again or you fry the guts. Yeah, an hour isn't going to cut it, but that's when I lose my patience and have to check.



Phone still works but sounds gargly strange---everyone sounds like a monster, which is neato, but hard to understand. The numbers on the keyboard are faded and no longer turn into different characters under another setting. So kinda ruined.

I turn off the phone and let it recover overnight, and bygod that sucker DOES recover completely. Characters come back to the keyboard, even with the ability to switch out. Phone no longer sounds gargly.

A week ago I would have given this phone a D+ for being kinda clever but disconnecting calls ALL THE DAMN TIME. Today I bump it up to B- for being toilet-proof with miracle healing powers.

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Nov. 9th, 2009

Mudfest

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Step-brother sent some photos I've never seen. Strange to see pictures this old for the first time.



1970's: Forget PS3 or Wii -- we had mud. It was cheap and abundant.



This was obviously a great day spent in the mud. Don't know which of the two big mud incidents this would be (of course there were MORE than two childhood mud adventures, but only two are officially documented). One time it was a giant mud puddle in front of the house --- we did flips and threw each other around and pretended to swim, etc. Another time we tried to walk to the river and found a couple feet of mud leading up to it.

I am the ugly kid on the left. Sisters on the right, two step-brothers in the middle. This is possibly a step-cousin behind us.


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Nov. 3rd, 2009

Clown Car



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A few days ago I was in my car waiting at the light when I noticed a car going thru the intersection was being driven by a nun. This was a nun in a full old-fashioned black & white habit covering all but her fingers and face.



Perhaps this is a normal sight for you, but I didn't grow up seeing nuns EVER, much less driving a damn car. Until recently I had only seen one in college -- there was one nun in my art class, and she was all modern with a 3/4 skirt and half-sleeves, no headdress. Not as impressive or official. A semi-nun, I say...

So I was impressed with this rare nun whizzing thru the intersection...until I noticed there was a full-on clown in the passenger seat. And then I realized Halloween was the next day. I'm a sucker.



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Speaking of clowns (which I hate), lots of stuff going wrong lately, and I feel like I'm witnessing a clown car gag. Just when there doesn't seem to be ROOM for one more inconvenience, another ass-clown steps out of the car and onto my back with his big stupid clown shoes.

Surprise! More unfunny clowns. Hooray.






But do you know what IS funny? This:




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Oct. 28th, 2009

Squatters




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Dear Spiders living in my mailbox,

Get out.

You can hang out till Halloween now that you seem to serve as a decoration, but then consider yourself evicted.

The only thing worse than a bill is a spider on a bill.  No, worse would be a spider on my head, but don't get any ideas. You and your nasty egg sacs have until Sunday to vacate.

I hate you.
Goodbye.




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Oct. 25th, 2009

Breakfast



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It seems like I could get sick of it, but I don't --- EVERY single morning I have an egg, toast with jam, and milk/coffee. No, I won't call the jam "jelly," 'cause I try to use something actually made out of fruit, whereas "jelly" is a creepy Jell-o substance. And no, I won't call the milk/coffee a "latte" because it's not like I've prepared something so complicated that it needs another name -- I've just poured milk in my coffee.





The only thing I'll shake up is changing the type of jam, and this week I tried boysenberry for the first time. Tastes good, but I keep almost breaking my teeth off on the seeds. Boysenberry joins cherries and pomegranates in the club of being lovely but with baggage.





I'm going on about my breakfast because I'm just so happy to have it every morning. I'm not only lucky to have breakfast every day, but surely I'll eat again that same day. Double lucky. Who really knows when these things will change, and I'll spend days hungry and dream about my toast and boysenberries, even the seeds.



If you really wanna shake things up, serve breakfast directly on the grass. I haven't tried this yet.


Breakfast is very exciting when I put it on the table in front of me every morning (while watching Sabrina* the Teenage Witch, of course) and think, "Look! I have food again today!" And love every bite.

*previously spelled "Subrina," but someone took the time to write just to correct my spelling.



Go ahead and pretend to be above watching "Sabrina." You're secretly just jealous that you don't have this awesome talking cat.


Try this breakfast celebration. Only expect people to laugh at you for watching Sabrina. A punch to the neck seems to stop the laughter pretty quickly, though.




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Oct. 11th, 2009

Duped


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I love caramel apples.


[Off the topic: When people pronounce it KERR-a-mel, I want to punch them in the neck. Please just use two syllables. CAR-muhl]


But I don't want to MAKE caramel apples. I'm sure I need a thermometer or some other kitchen gadget I don't own, and melting things would also require my constant supervision. I need to be able to turn on a timer and walk away until a beeping tells me to return, or oven disasters ensue.


MY caramel apple attempt



So I was at the grocery store, which is filled with pumpkins and orange balloons and fake fall leaves to make me believe it's October, and I feel a craving for caramel apples, which of course are only harvested this time of year, which of course makes them rare and highly desirable.



Next to the apples are caramels and sticks to make your own, or there's a pre-made single caramel apple rolled in nuts in a package nearby. So I can buy supplies to make (ruin) 12 apples to eat by myself, or I can buy a single apple called:

Karmel Appel

I HATE when things are spelled wrong on purpose like this. It gives the manufacturer power to sell something that isn't what it appears to be, as the spelling revokes all guarantees. It's permission call a plastic a "dimund" and rubber chemicals "cheez" and dyed fish "krabb."



Cheez


But I did buy the karmel appel because for all the labs on earth I figured they are not actually creating fake APPLES yet. Maybe fake apple bits, but not apples shaped like whole apples.

It was a real apple, but it was old and weird, and the karmel was reddish and not even remotely caramelish. I might as well have bought snake oil.





Been really disappointed in some people lately and wished they had labels to point out their lack of authenticity as human beings. Unlike a product on the shelf, stupid and mean people are everywhere, and there are no labels to warn me that they only appear to be human. Can't dodge them fast enough. Can't know up front how dangerous they are. I've felt a little bit like I'm wandering through my own Invasion of the Body-Snatchers...




But part of the problem is there's really only one way to spell "man" without wasting an extra letter trying to disguise it, like "mann."  I think there are lots of Menn out there leaving out the extra "n," so beware. Cheez can make you sick, but Menn can hurt and disappoint your soul.

I'm not leaving myself out of this business. I'm not an authentic lady, but I wouldn't go so far as to label myself "Laydee" and try to get away with anything. My label would just be more specific like "Foul-mouthed Lady," and my ingredients would most assuredly list sarcasm and profanity, as well as my total lack of any essential vitamins and nutrients.


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Oct. 1st, 2009

(no subject)


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Out walking this morning and feeling discouraged about the litter I was finding. There's a trash can in front of every other driveway, so I can't imagine the problem. Oh, but I'll try.

Let's say this person was walking down the street drinking a bottle of gin last night, and he suddenly found himself too hammered to take two more steps to throw that bottle in that bin, although he had every intention.

Another person dropped his water bottle as he was abducted by aliens mere inches from that recycling bin. He's hoping I'll fingerprint the bottle and notify the police, but I think I'm just gonna throw it away...Sorry.

Oh, and this person might have spontaneously combusted, as he's left behind the newspaper, his shoes, t-shirt, and part of a hamburger. My dogs investigate the area and determine the meat must be confiscated for evidence, and I have to leap to stop them from disturbing the crime scene.

The good news is that I spotted a crow under a tree with a bag of Fritos. He turned the bag around, stepped on one end, and picked open the other end with his beak. He was delicately taking out Fritos one by one, and I was wishing I had my camera. But who needs a camera when I can find an image on Google of someone else's crow/chip experience?


[I have a great picture of a crow eating a bag of chips to insert here, but there is something wrong with my computer right now. I'm no expert, but I think I have a "computersareunreliablepiecesofshit" virus. Stay tuned for no more pictures accompanying this worthless journal, and possibly my whole website disappearing soon.]


The crow assured me he would be throwing the bag away when he was done. But crows are notorious liars, so there's a good chance that Frito bag will still be there in the morning...Well,  unless a badger comes along before then. Although owls are usually credited, badgers are really the advocates behind the old "Give a hoot, don't pollute" campaign.

Anyways...

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Sep. 27th, 2009

Wintery Thingamajig

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A clothes store was selling these little crocheted thingies with flowers on them. They were thick and wintery-colored, looked like scarves that were only about a foot long. A button on one end and a button-hole on the other end. I kept coming back to them because they were cute and looked home-made, but wondered if they went over the head/ears and fastened under the chin, or if they were like a neckwarmer...or a headband...or part of a hat...

Eventually I had to ask the chick working there, and she said, "I have no idea what those are for."

"Think they go over your head?" I asked, trying this, but it wouldn't fit. I tried around my neck, and that fit, but it seemed kinda snug and silly.



This is not me. This is not the actual neck thingy either.



"How did you know to put them by the hats if you don't know how to wear them?" I asked.

"I put some by the bras too," she said, shaking her head. She was not even remotely curious.

"Whatever this is, it's for winter, wouldn't you say?" I asked, holding up the thick scarf thingy.

"Yeah, definitely."

"It doesn't ever get cold enough in this town to warrant a gadget like this, huh?"

"Nope."

"So someone ordered, unpacked, priced and displayed some thingy that can't be identified or worn in the local weather," I confirmed, "That's fantastic! I almost want to wear one now just to wait for someone to point out it's on the wrong part of my body."

"You should," she said, "They are only $9. I'm sure that's a good deal for whatever it is."



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"X" Marks a Spot for No Reason


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Dear Doctor Jackass,

Thanks for making me wait an hour to see you for a whole two minutes the other day. I appreciate you barely looking me over and then hurriedly suggesting Benedryl for my head-to-toe hives that burn like hellfire. I would have never thought of Benedryl without you! 

Let's just say I did think of Benedryl earlier today, tried half a dose, and the second drowsiness kicked in I also experienced the side effect of wanting to jump out the nearest window or gnaw my own foot from a nonexistant beartrap. Very little relief with a giant side effect = not worth it.

So then your genius suggestion was to take LESS Benedryl. Let me quote you, Mastermind:

"If 50 miligrams gave you side effects, take 25! If  25 miligrams give you side effects, take 15! And so on...Only take the amount that helps you."





You shake your head and smile as though the answer is so obvious.

"But I took 25 miligrams an hour ago, had the side effects, and I'm still covered in a rash/hives," I told you. "You would like me to take half that to get even less relief---is this the plan?"

"Yes, only take what you can handle," you said, and checked my ears/nose/throat in 2 seconds total.

You then drew an "X" on my back with your fingernail and said, "I'll bet that 'X' will turn red because your skin is really irritated," and then put my shirt back down and never looked again to confirm. I guess for entertainment I was supposed to look when I got home. I think I'd only be impressed if your "X" turned into a rabbit or unicorn pattern.

Thanks for nothing!


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Sep. 20th, 2009

A Game




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If you use Gmail you'll notice that over to the right Google hooks you up with all kinds of links it finds based on searching for key words in the body of your email. I find it rather rude and intrusive.

I mean, doesn't the omnipresent eye of the Google engine have something better to do than search my email? Don't I spend enough time with Google, searching for sites, images, and information on purpose? Apparently not.


Google is watching you...



One sentence out of my entire email:  "...Boy, he's about an inch from having my foot broken off in his ass..."

Google Engine locks onto key words:  Foot, inch, ass

Google site suggestions: 

www.yourassiswaytoobig.com - Lose weight now!
www.richardweiner.com  - Miracle podiatrist. Learn to love your feet again.
www.livebugsNOW.com - Have inchworms delivered directly to your door!


You can see how these links could be very helpful. Okay, maybe that last one...



Anyway, tonight my friend sent me an email about some board games. As I was reading it I noticed the Google results over to the right, and somehow the search had locked onto the word "cornholes," although neither "corn" nor "holes" appeared in the email. In fact, I've never used the word and could only guess what it meant...

8 Cornholes for $12!!
Best cornholes at www.cornholebrothers.com
Custom Cornhole Boards

Naturally I then Googled "cornhole" and found that cornhole bags are for the game of Cornhole, which is apparently as American as apple pie, yet escaped my ears/eyes for my whole life. And probably for the best. I don't think I'm mature enough for a game with that name --- I can't see myself being able to ask someone at a party, "Hey, wanna play Cornhole?" 



But if you can take it seriously, there's money to be made. Just ask the aforementioned Cornhole Brothers. Someone has to be at the forefront of cornhole marketing, and who better than two brothers with a really handy last name and/or a passion for Cornholing?



Google says:

These links are produced automatically for your convenience. No humans read the content of your email in order to generate these links and none of them are sponsored by advertisers. We hope you'll find them relevant and useful!

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Sep. 19th, 2009

Bags and Stuff


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Until I got Angus and Acorn and began to take them for walks, I had no idea that dogs could save their poo for specific times/locations, which is disgusting and amazing. No matter what time of day I take them out, one or both has an offering, even if I just saw them poo in our own yard a moment ago. Even more disgusting and amazing is the fact that Acorn does this twice on a ten minute walk.

Most amazing is the TRIPLE she pulled the other day on a very very short walk. She did it right in front of a fellow cleaning his car, and he laughed as he heard me exclaim, "Wow! Really, Acorn?...Geez."

He said, "When they gotta go, they gotta go."  And I said, no, this is her third time in four blocks. And then he agreed, "Wow."

Like a good citizen I pick up the poo with those little biodegradable bags. I just discovered recently that the bags smell like poo BEFORE you even use them.

So the other day when I bought new bags I decided to get "wildflower scented" ones. Let me assure you they also smell like poo. It's not even slightly masked by wildflowers -- there is no flower smell AT ALL. Scent Manager at the poo bag factory might should consider a new career.

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Sep. 13th, 2009

Baby Hats


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New nephew in mouse ears, but the cap is so large it fits more like a war helmet.






Turns out he looks best with just a blanket headdress.





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Sep. 7th, 2009

Success


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Forgot to update that Acorn's eye surgery went great, and she can see really well. She seemed baffled by her sight the first couple days. It was cool to take her for walks and have her lift her head again, watching birds go over and dogs on balconies.




Now I just wish I could customize a little goggle to fit really well over that eye to protect it.

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Sep. 1st, 2009

Tarnish




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It's too bad something lovely like The Wizard of Oz can't be protected from the king of repetitively gruesome toys, Todd McFarlane. Here's his take on Dorothy/Munchkin, Scarecrow, and...um...Toto:




Not only does he get to trash Baum's characters, he can profit from it as well. Ugh.

Too bad. Imagine if Wizard of Oz were your own legacy for this world, and eventually anyone is allowed to turn it into something sooooo far removed from your idea that you would probably vomit if you saw it.

Someone's gonna tell me, "Oh, but Mcfarlane is a huge Wizard of Oz fan! This is his tribute to him."  So let me go ahead and say, "If you were really a fan you wouldn't do this to him."  Just like Sci-Fi channel would owe Baum a huge apology if he were alive to see the attrocious Oz mini-series they did.  They owe ME an apology for exposing me to it...Ok, but I laughed a lot. Too bad it wasn't supposed to be funny...





It's funny to come across these figures today because last night I was reading Pinocchio and thinking how fun it would be to illustrate it. I was thinking about the author and how I couldn't dare try it without being true to the actual text. Can still use your imagination without rewriting someone else's golden idea.


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Aug. 31st, 2009

Bionic Eye



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Good luck to my Acorn getting her one eye fixed in the morning. It will be cool to see her look my direction again.

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Aug. 26th, 2009

Exceeding Expectations



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Hi, I'm the last person on earth who hadn't read Great Expectations. And somehow I've also made it to my forties without a teacher or movie giving any of the story away. I knew it was about a poor kid who becomes rich and wants a really snooty girl, but that's it. And I only knew about the snooty girl from seeing a snippet of movie with a very modern (a.k.a. bastardized) take on the book.



I picked up the book months ago, and I've read a chapter every other night, dragging it on. Some nights I read one paragraph. That's what happens when you use up your eyes on the computer all day at work---there's no juice left in the eyeballs to continue focusing on a tiny page in the dim light while stretched out in bed at 11:58pm.

But oooooooh how I've loved this book. Certainly not a pleasant one, but so deliciously written, painted vividly in my head, and full o' people who are now real to me. Such great names likes Magwitch, Wemmick and Pumblechook...



Such ridiculous soap opera of tragedies and secret parents and twists, but still perfectly capturing real egos, nutbags, creeps, and golden friends I've encountered in my own life...

But what a bummer Dickens was ever convinced to change the ending of the book to be more pleasant. The paperback I was reading included both endings. The original ending is a bummer and perfectly appropriate and satisfying. The replacement ending is too tidy, somehow stomping on everything I just read...And so I'm going to pretend I didn't read that.

Actually I wish I could erase the whole book from my head and enjoy it all over again. I don't have a new book to get started on tonight, and I have about three more minutes of reading juice left in my eyes.







“Take a pencil and write under my name, ‘I forgive her!’”

Please, 'cause in a few minutes she'll literally be on fire, and you're gonna feel really bad that you didn't.

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Aug. 20th, 2009

Penny Eyes




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A long time ago I saw a movie where a cowboy died and someone then put coins over his eyes. Don't know if this is to hold the eyelids closed or a gesture to pay for a soda in the afterlife, but I want coins on my eyes when I die. No services or a fancy box to sleep in --- just respect my lifelong wish to have coins on my eyes, and then throw me in a hole.





My uncle died recently, and I can't make myself call my aunt. Or my cousin. I really really should. I really want to. I just won't. I've become so anti-social sometimes I can't make myself even complete a phone call for a birthday or to say hello, so how do I make a call that matters a lot more? 

I sent a card, but that's lame. People are gonna think I don't care, when really I've just gone nuts.

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