Trick or Treat?

Happy Halloween!

I love this holiday! Well, I love making people up for this holiday. I did up the zombie boy and I must say that he looked pretty damn fantastic. Total strangers came up to us telling me how great he looked. Pretty cool, huh? My family members were more subdued. They're used to my "special effects" makeup (more on that below*). I put more makeup on angel girl this time. She really looked all shimmery and ethereal and angelic. Looks are deceiving, aren't they? I dressed them up and took them around to a few relatives and then we went to do our food shopping.

Yes, I know we usually go shopping on Saturday. Yes, I know we're awfully fond of our schedule. Yes, I know we're obsessive compulsive anally retentive freaks. But I was feeling all sick and nasty yesterday and didn't want to go anywhere. That and the weather was crap, too. It was all cold and wet. Today was wonderfully sunny and unseasonably warm (in the 70s) so, even though I wasn't up to par, I didn't mind going out in this lovely weather.

The kids got craploads of candy and they were ooohed and ahhhed over. They were very pleased. I gave angel girl a lipgloss to hold onto for touch-ups and she lost it. I'm ticked off. It was a good lipgloss. I told her that she will be searching high and low for it or she will be getting me a replacement. I like putting the fear of lost allowance into that mercenary little girl.

We bought a dvd player. A cheapie one. We don't technically need one because my compy has one already, but no one wants to sit around my computer to watch a movie. I figured the simplest solution was to buy a cheapie dvd player for the living room. So we buy, we bring home, we set up. Well, we try to set it up, I should say. You'd think it'd be basic: audio, video. One goes out, the other goes in. Simple, right? Apparently not. The bloody thing doesn't work. When it does work, it's spastic. The booklet is no help whatsoever. And the stupid video plug broke. Luckily, we had an extra video cable around so we used that. Still, not working. We figure that, eventually, a technically inclined family member will drop by-- this is a lot more common than you'd expect-- and they could set it up for us. Or at least tell us what's wrong. All in all, it's not a big deal. Cheapie dvd player.

*Ok, so more on the "special effects" makeup. At one point in my life-- when I was at my angsty-ist of angsty teen years (a.k.a. the year I turned 15)-- I got really into stage makeup and the like. For Halloween that year, I went as a living dead girl. I crafted a bullet hole at my temple out of molding putty and did my makeup and even my own fake blood (so very easy) for the wound and a dribble out of the side of my mouth. It must've been very good since I made a few peoople sick at lunch. My French teacher also said she had nightmares for a while and she couldn't look directly at me for a few weeks. I remember this stupid Senior walking up to me and asking "Uh.. Is that, like, real?" and replying "Yeah, I got shot in the head this morning, but I didn't want to miss school." Yes, I was a real bitch, but she was really stupid. A few family members were a bit grossed out, too. My father insisted against my visiting my grandmother, which I fully understood. You don't go up to an 80-something year-old with a bullet hole in your head. The next year, I went as a slasher film victim with cut up, dirty and bloody clothes and a scar on my cheek. I didn't get as many double takes as the year before. I guess people were used to me by then. I did feel bad for upsetting my best friend. She hadn't been there for last Halloween and wasn't used to...well, me. But, anyway, that's why my family didn't comment on the makeup. And I did hold back because it's damn hard putting on makeup on an 8 year-old with ADHD.

Violent Triolet?

If they told you I'm mad, then they lied. I'm odd, but it isn't compulsive. I'm the triolet, bursting with pride; If they told you I'm mad, then they lied. No, it isn't obsessive. Now hide All the spoons or I might get convulsive. If they told you I'm mad then they lied. I'm odd, but it isn't compulsive. What Poetry Form Are You?

If I weren't a Tiolet, I would be a Clerihew...

I, as a clerihew, Tend to be merry; too Merry, it might, perhaps, by some, be claimed; But I'm sure that these people are wrong, and need to be grievously maimed. What Poetry Form Are You?

When I'm bad, I'm very good...

Va-Va-Voom! You're inner Bombshell is Mae West.
You've definitly got a lot of wit, a lot of
smarts, and you know how to use people to your
advantage. Ever heard the phrase "doesn't
take any crap from anybody"? Well that's
you! Just like Mae you never want to settle
down, and can't imagine being with just one man
for the rest of your life. You don't care about
conventions and have no filter from your brain
to you mouth. Check out the movie "She
Done Him Wrong" to see your inner
bombshell in all her voluptuous glory!


Who is your inner bombshell?
brought to you by Quizilla

Halloween Parade

The kids' school had their Halloween parade today. I was kinda ticked 'cause my son was told that no makeup was allowed. He was going to be the healthiest-looking zombie ever. I was still pouting. Actually, I was ready to slip back into my old rebel-just-waiting-for-a-cause-no-really-any-cause-will-do and stage a protest of sorts or write a strongly worded letter to the principal for ruining the kids' fun. Ok, so I was more upset about the makeup rule than they were. So what?! Then while I was fuming, my mom gave me The Look. You know it. The one that burns like lasers into your skull? Yep, that one. So I stopped painting my signs and sulked. I might've whined a bit, too. You know you're behaving pathetically when your own children pat you on the arm and console you.

So I only did the girl's makeup. It was barely-there makeup, so I knew no one would complain. She looked all shimmery and ethereal an' stuff. Like an angel that she never was. And I pouted at my son, sighed heavily, and sent them off to school. They're not even allowed to wear the costumes to school. They change there before the parade.

Cut to this afternoon. I'm running around, doing assorted things, trying to shower, etc. when my father hauls in this monster 3-in-1 scanner/printer/copier thing as tells me to set it up and that he needs about ten bazillion pictures scanned, etc. So I get it all hooked up, then I set up the stupid network thing-- which is really a pain in the ass where his computer is concerned because, if it were up to it, it would blithely ignore any and all associations with my computer, the stuck up little bastard. I then notice the time. I slap on a wee bit of makeup; then remembering my son's naked face, pout a bit more (I'm a good pouter). I notice that I'm running short on time so I blast my still sopping hair with the hair dryer and pray that I don't look like the Bride of Frankenstein-- though I could pull off that look today, I guess. I grab my stuff and I run and make it to the school with a few minutes to spare. Yay me!

The angel girl came out first, since she's in a lower grade than the boy. She looked adorable and terrified. She has the oddest form of stage fright, that child. Then I realize why. She took off her jeans. It's fucking cold outside and she's pantsless. I mouth to her "Where are your jeans?!" and she gives me this "Oh, shit! Busted!" look. Grr.. Then I see it.. Another zombie. With makeup on. The hell?! I'm so tempted to run up and yell at someone. Anyone. But I can't yell at the kid. Fucking makeup. I'm pouting again. Then there's the boy. He looks so cute that I giggle. He shoves his glasses up his nose and grins and waves at me and I try not to get too mom with him. But, damn, healthiest-looking zombie ever!

I did my duty and snapped pictures of the angel girl and the fleshy zombie boy. My mom insisted on a "real" camera so I don't know when I'll ever see those pictures. Maybe after next Halloween.

Random List

This is a random list of some of the things I covet. I might even tell why I covet these things.

1. Mogu People- These are odd, simplistic little doll pillows, aren't they? I don't quite know why I want one, but I do. And I want to buy one for each kid. I even picked out the ones I'd buy for each of us. I'd get Dream, the boy would get Success, and the girl would get Joy.
2. Robosapien- This is so damn cool. I so want one, but we can't have nice things with the Destructo Kids around. Evil children.
3. A Dyson Vacuum- Yes, I covet appliances. I'm not a normal girl. I really, really want one of these.
4. A Talking Dictionary and Thesaurus- I love dictionaries. I used to read them and try to learn a few new words a day. Yes, I know I'm a nerd. Shut up. This would be easier to lug around than my current dictionary. It weighs a good 15 lbs. or so, I swear.
5. An Aga Range- I'd be the happiest girl ever if I got one of these! I want the super big one! Oh, how I covet thee, Aga! They're cast iron ovens and stay super-hot instead of cooling off during cycles like normal ovens. Yes, I watch too much Food Network.
6. Pretty much anything KitchenAid- But I mostly want a mixer. My grandma had a KitchenAid mixer and we'd bake cakes together, so it's mostly sentimental for me.
   
7. A Cookie Puss cake- As a child, I'd always wanted-- nay, begged for-- a Cookie Puss cake from Carvel. All of the other kids got one! I wanted one, too! I never, ever got one. I feel my life is incomplete because of this. I don't care what you say, J, I want my Cookie Puss cake! (You really need to tell that story! It's my favorite!)

Those are some of the things I'm coveting currently. And they totally describe who I am. Scary, huh?

Woohoo!

Got my brand spanking new computer today. I, uh, got lazy and didn't back up my hard drive. Instead, I moved everything to the extra hard drive. I figured I could move that to the new compy and all would be good. I didn't think about actually installing the other hard drive. And I couldn't find the stupid bracket thingie to hold it in. I'll let someone else do it 'cause I'm tired of dealing with it. For now, I've downloaded all I can remember to download, I've installed all I think I need to install, I'm trying to remember all of my bookmarks, and I'm trying to get used to XP. I had 2000 before and it's a smidge different. I need to re-rip my cds. I need mp3s and can't wait for that extra hard drive. I'm going into withdrawal. Yes, already.

This is rapidly becoming boring, so I'll end it now.

GBC

Instead of yet another boring post, I thought I'd link to some very funny writing. I give you the Girls' Bike Club, or GBC for short, at Tomato Nation. So far it's in 4 parts. I suggest reading in order.

1. Girls' Bike Club
2. Girls' Bike Club II: The Girls'-Bikening
3. Girls' Bike Club III: The GBC Strikes Back
4. Girls' Bike Club IV: Feeding Frenzy

If those don't have you peeing-in-your-pants laughing, you're a lost cause.

Citrus Feline

I have nothing to write about today. I could babble about my kids' Halloween costumes (a zombie and an angel-- boy and girl, respectively (though, if it had been me, I would've been-- and have been-- the zombie)). But I don't think that's all that interesting to anyone except me. I got a wee bit over-excited about doing my son's zombie makeup and my mom put a damper on that one quickly enough.

Me: "...and I wonder if they have that glow-in-the-dark makeup and-- Oooh!! I could make some scars. I'm good at scars and fake blood. Oh, crap! I don't have spirit gum. Do they sell spirit gum around here? Or....I've got some molding putty that I could use.. Slap some makeup on that-- did you find the glow-in-the-dark makeup?"

Mom: Clutching the child, "You're not getting near my grandbaby with that!"

Me: "...but.."

Mom: "Some white on the face, some black around the eyes. That's it!"

Me: With much eye rolling, "But no zombie is straight black and white.. Sheesh! I need at least some green mixed in and maybe some brown..."

Mom: "Keep it simple! He's only eight!"

Me: Pouting and grumbling, "Fine.."

But I'm allowed to go all out on the girl. Probably because she loves and encourages makeup application at any and every opportunity.

***

Limecat is not pleased.
and
Introducing Limecat mini. The world's smallest displeased cat. In five new colors.
(Edited to add: Apparently, the Limecat is so displeased that he's not even there.)

Hee!

I'm so upset that I missed the debacle on SNL. I had to see it second hand here. I read about it over here. Yes, the vid link is a slow load, but it's so worth it to see Miss Ashlee's mini-meltdown. And what was with that weird little jig she kept doing? Should I have been looking for a pot o' gold? And can I mention just how much I hate that song? Hate! Then she tries to blame it on the band? Lame! But did anyone else notice how amused the band looked when she wandered off-stage? They looked a wee bit smirky to me. Methinks Ms. Pop Princess might be a bit too annoying if they enjoyed that as much as I did.

I must say, something at Metafilter really stood out. It was posted by luckyclone:

From Lucky Magazine interview:

LM: What are your takes on lip-synching?

AS: I'm totally against it and offended by it. I'm going out to let my real talent show, not to just stand there and dance around. Personally, I'd never lip-synch. It's just not me.

Well, well, well.. Open mouth, insert a pre-taped version of your foot, Ashlee dear.

(Edited to add: Found a quicker loading vid here.)

Mmm.. HOT!

So yesterday, during my shopping trip, I stop in at Trader Joe's for a look-see. I picked up a few things that I wouldn't find at ShopRite. Stuff like Chai tea, wheat bread, an' stuff like that. Ok, they have chai tea and wheat bread at ShopRite, but it's the icky stuff. I don't want any of that Lipton shit. And I don't want my bread to be all soft, spongy and sweet. I like actual bread and real tea. I know I'm a snob. Duh! It says so in my profile.

Anyway, while at Trader Joe's, I see this ginger candy. They're called Ginger Chews. I was intrigued. Reading the back of the bag lured me in. You can read for yourself...

Everyone needs a little spice in their life!

Unwrap the secrets of an old and treasured recipe from Southeast Asia and discover the unique flavor of our soft and chewy ginger candies. A delicate balance of sweet and hot flavor, Ginger Chews are the ultimate delicacy for ginger lovers.

So, obviously, I had to have them. I love ginger! I love a delicate balance between sweet and hot! This candy was meant for me! So I buy it and I rip the bag open even before I get into the car. There are two wrappers: a pretty pale green stating "Ginger Chews" and "Original" and a wax paper wrapper on the inside. The first thing I notice is how sticky the candy is. Gummy sticky, not melty sticky. And it is very chewy. I pop it into my mouth and it's sweet and pleasantly ginger-flavored. Yummy! But it's getting stuck in my molars. Then it's getting hot. The kind that hits you in the throat. I like hot, though, so it's all good. But it's really stuck in my molars and it's really getting hot. Like masala hot. My nose is getting runny and my eyes are tearing. But it's still yummy. The burning.

I've never felt so conflicted over candy before.

Happy Belated Birthday to ME!

Guess who's getting a brand spanking new computer? Guess who's not paying for the brand spanking new computer? Guess who needs to back up her hard drive? Shit, I need to back up the hard drive.

But, yay, new computer!

Old Erwin here has served me well, but he's a dinosaur. We're talking Pentium II here, people. O-L-D. Now my computer won't groan and shudder when I have more than two applications open at once. I'm so excited!

Also, my hair's looking particularly fantastic. I cut it a smidge last night. Oh, hush, I didn't cut much. Just a bit around the face and a few layers on top. It was all floopy before, but it's perky now.

This does not mean that you can take your own hair into your hands. I wouldn't dare try cutting the bottom. I'd definitely cut that unevenly. But I'm a professional, I know how to do my own layers. Do not attempt this at home.

Umm.. So, yeah.. I need to back up the hard drive.

Eh...

I'm so without a topic lately. My mind's been preoccupied with other things and so all of the oxygen's been rushing to those parts of the brain. I have lost the funny-- if I ever did have it. I've been doing boring stuff like studying, crocheting, studying some more, crocheting even more, some reading, screaming at the fucking scarf that keeps dropping stitches, throwing out the scarf, stomping around a bit, studying, watching some tv. I've also been cooking more meals.

See? It's all very boring. I'm coming closer and closer to my future incarnation as crazy cat lady. I just need more cats.

I've gotten some good (also rather boring) news! A friend of my father's-- a barber-- is going to tutor me on men's haircuts. That's the one problem with cosmetology school, they don't really go very in-depth with men's haircuts. They have the attitude "If you've seen one, you've seen them all" about them. So I'm glad for this little opportunity. Another thing most people don't realize about this field, you never stop learning. There are always classes to take. The problem is that they're very expensive classes. So, hopefully, you find an employer willing to pay for you to take the classes.

As for me, I'll still be studying my notes...until I become crazy cat lady.

Random Quizes

You should invite Death to dinner. Why? She's cool,
mellow, fun to talk to, and she'll teach you a
thing or two about life. Remember though, she
is Death, so if she shows up uninvited....well,
it was nice knowing you.


Which of the Endless Should You Invite to Dinner?
brought to you by Quizilla

***


you are shmee...you do nothing!


which jonny the homicidal maniac charecter are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

***


Helena


Which woman of Shakespeare are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Nightmare on Main Street

Fear is a funny thing. There is no logic to it. You can't control or dictate what you will be or are afraid of. Take me for example... As a child, I was afraid of clowns and vampires. Then I thought of vampire clowns and I thought I'd never sleep again.

The clown thing is easily explained. Chalk it up to wrong place/wrong time. I was flipping through channels-- this was back in the days where all tvs had knobs and UHF and all that shit-- and I happened to land on Poltergeist at the exact moment the clown doll attacked the little boy. Messed me up. I always distrusted clowns, but here was proof!

I don't know what caused the fear of vampires, but I remember a phone commercial with a vampire popping out of a coffin. I'd hide my face every time it came on. The sad part about it is that it was such a lame commercial, but it terrified me. Eventually, I got over the vampire fear, but I really dislike clowns.

One time, I must've been about 3-4 years old, my parents took me to the circus. I knew there would be clowns there and that made me nervous. I didn't worry so much when I saw how high up our seats were. I'd easily see a clown coming and could run away. We were way up there. I was able to relax and watch the show. I enjoyed it all except for the blood-thirsty, evil clowns. Then something happened. The clowns on stilts came out. Now, at the time, I didn't realize they were wearing stilts. I thought that their legs could stretch that high. And logically, to a 3 year old, if their legs could stretch, surely their arms could stretch. That meant they could reach me. I freaked the fuck out. I tried jumping over my seat into the aisle behind me. My mom had to grab me and hold me down. I knew better than to make a scene. It just wasn't done. I was always a polite little girl. I knew my mom wouldn't get it. I told her "The clown's gonna get me", but she thought I was being silly and held me in place. I remember wanting to cry because this was just like my mom feeding me to the clowns. It was horrible. They never took me to the circus again.

Fast forward to my kids. My son was born cautious. He was always a little be afraid of everything. My daughter, on the other hand, was absolutely fearless...and not necessarily in a good way. She had no fear at all in her. It scared me. She was the one who'd try to climb the shelves and jump off. Nothing scared the girl. I remember the time she picked up a dog bowl with a very large, poisonous spider in it. I mean, the spider filled the bowl. She wasn't afraid.

I remember the time, at the shore, we went on this ride called The Condor. She decided that she wanted to go on it and wanted me to take her. Now, I'm afraid of heights and this ride went way, way up, but I'm not as bad as I was and figured that if a mere child could handle it so could I. So we hop into a car.

Ok, to describe this ride... Imagine a maypole. You know how the top kinda spins around? Ok, in this ride, that part is where all of the little cars are. It starts out at the bottom and them slowly ascends to the very tippy top. And it turns slowly around the pole. Of course, the cars swing out as it spins and there are no seat belts. You get to hold on. I was not a happy camper.

So I have a death grip on my youngest and on the car. I'm trying not to panic, but it's hard. We keep going up, up, up. The girl finally, for the first time in her life, shows some fear. She wants to go back down, but we're stuck, and I'm trying to keep her calm by talking soothingly to her and all the while, I'm silently screaming in my head. We, after what seemed like a lifetime, get back down. The girl scrambles hurriedly out of the ride, just in case it decides to drag her back to the top, and runs to her grandma. I, oh so shakily, emerge and have to sit for a moment before I can actually walk anywhere. I quietly tell the girl that I'll kill her if she ever suggests a ride like that again, she doesn't have a problem with that idea. My baby, the fearless one, finally got a dose of fear and she wasn't eager to experience it again.

Now my little fearless one is afraid of everything. To the point where it's irritating. Her brother, the cautious one, is no longer so afraid. It's like they switched roles. This week, both had nightmares. I told each the same thing-- to take over the dream and make it so the scary thing isn't so scary anymore. It worked like a charm for the boy, he was eager to get back to sleep and try it out. It didn't work so well for the girl. It makes me a bit sad, that. As much as I worried about her utter lack of fear (some fear has its purpose), I admired that fearlessness as well. It made me proud to be raising an independent little girl. I wish I were a bit more fearless. I also wish she'd gain back some of that fearlessness.

Feeling a bit guilty..

...for throwing my cat's toy on the tile so he'd slide when running after it.

But, damn, it's funny.



I'm in first class on the express train to hell.

Quiz you, quiz me...

You're Elizabeth Bennett of Pride and Prejudice by
Jane Austen!

Which Classic Female Literary Character Are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

***

I AM 56% TORTURED ARTIST! Art is significant in my life, people are scum but I have the capicity to deal with it. Give it a few more years and I will either forget about art or hate the world. Take the TORTURED ARTIST test at Fuali.com

***

I AM 71% EVIL GENIUS! Evil courses through my blood. Lies and deceit motivate my evil deeds. Crushing the weaklings and idiots that do nothing but interfere in my doings. Take the EVIL GENIUS test at Fuali.com

***

the mystical dude attacks from behind and smashed
the fly on your head!


the quiz that does not ask for your favorite color
brought to you by Quizilla

Student of the Week!

I'm going to take a page from my daughter and do a little about me thing. The girl brought home this paper. On it was written Student of the Week! and it tells about how the child has to put a little presentation of sorts together for the class to see. It's put up on a bulletin board the whole week. She was given various questions to answer about herself, I figured I'd do the same. So here goes:

1. "My Family..." Hmm.. How to answer this. Ok, there's me, the two kids (a boy and a girl), my parents, and a slew of aunts, uncles and cousins. I'm an only child. We're a goofy, sarcastic bunch and we're all very close as families go. We always get together for holidays, usually at my house because my mom and I are the best cooks in the family. They drive me crazy and I love them to death.
2. "My favorite book is..." My favorite book of all time is Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll. More recent favorites are: American Gods by Neil Gaiman and The Secret History by Donna Tartt.
3. "My favorite sport is..." I'm not much of a sports person. I'm not totally averse to volleyball, bowling, or badminton. (Edited to add: in grade school I was in intramural basketball, in highschool it was intramural ping pong, in college it was intramural volleyball.)
   
4. "I would like to travel to..." Everywhere? I'd really love to travel the world. So far I've only been to Canada and Russia. I had a lay-over in Ireland. Does that count?
5. "My favorite subject is..." Well, since I'm no longer in school, this is no longer applicable. But when I was in school, my favorite subjects were: Art, Chemistry, English, and French.
6. "My favorite things about me..." Ahh.. This is where I get to wax poetic on myself. I'm not so good at that. Hmm.. I think I'm smart, funny, creative, and a good problem solver.
   
7. "When I grow up I want to be..." Well, there are so many things I'd love to be. So many careers I love. I'm happy with the hair thing now. When I was little, I wanted to be a mad scientist. I wanted my own lab with bubbly beakers and test tubes. I thought mad scientists had all the fun. My kindergarten teacher crushed my hopes when she said I couldn't be one. I still kinda want to be a mad scientist.
8. "My birthday is..." None of your business. But as my profile says, I'm a Libra and a Rabbit.

And that's what I did on my summer-- Oh, uh, and that's, well, me.

The freaks come out...

You ever notice the odd little ways people find your blog? Particularly through various search engines. Some are amusing and some are down-right scary. Here's a small list of various searches that brough people here:

1. 'I farted in scoots floor store' (Umm.. Yeah. I don't know)
   
2. 'changing t.g.i. fridays menu atkinz' (I believe they're looking for Cockeyed.com's Atkinz prank.)
3. 'Vincent Gallo drowning in bro' (I don't know about this one either.)
4. 'traits oompah loompahs' (This one scares me. Either this is a Dian Fossey-like person studying the oompahs or they're a future boyfriend (That means they're crazy.))
5. '"longest torso" girl' (I'm lost there.)

I love this stuff.

Spinning a yarn...

Went on an olympic shopping spree today. Still recovering. Decided to crochet a bunch of scarves for everyone, so I'll be busy with that. Some odd/interesting links...

Mini sea monster? Or badly decomposed baby seal? You be the judge.

How, uh, romantic...?

Experiments with Electricity. You, too, can turn your tongue into a battery.

Have fun!

Oddly Addictive

Be warned, this game is like crack. It's worse than crack. It's so cute and weird and thoroughly addictive. I can't stop playing it. I give you...

GROW

Don't say I didn't warn you.

I'm Quizilla's bitch...

You are 26% geek

You are a geek liaison, which means you go both ways. You can hang out with normal people or you can hang out with geeks which means you often have geeks as friends and/or have a job where you have to mediate between geeks and normal people. This is an important role and one of which you should be proud. In fact, you can make a good deal of money as a translator. Normal: Tell our geek we need him to work this weekend. You [to Geek]: We need more than that, Scotty. You'll have to stay until you can squeeze more outta them engines! Geek [to You]: I'm givin' her all she's got, Captain, but we need more dilithium crystals! You [to Normal]: He wants to know if he gets overtime.

Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com

***


My life is rated R.
What is your life rated?

***

My angst tastes like...

Black Licorice
Find your angst's flavor

Picky, Picky

The other day, my father suggested a family trip. He thought we should all go apple picking. It's something we used to do when I was young and he wanted the kids to experience it. I can see the girl getting into it, she's the outdoorsy type (God knows where she got that from); but the boy? Maybe if it were a Gameboy Advance game. He's not into nature, unless it's on a 2" screen. Throw Mario and Luigi into it and you've got his attention for sure. But I was all up for it. I'm into the family thing. Then I remembered, it's too late in the season for apple picking so that idea was nixed. I also remembered the last apple picking trip we went on.

Oh, it was so long ago... I might've been about 9 or 10 or so. My cousin, Den (I mentioned him Tales from the Pond), went with us. He always went on trips with us...everywhere. His mom was my father's twin sister and when she got divorced, my father took over the fathering role sorta. We were practically raised like brother and sister in a two family house. My aunt, cousin and grandmother on my father's side got the upstairs and my parents and I were downstairs. But he was downstairs more than up. My aunt was on the mean side. Couldn't blame the guy.

Back to the apple picking trip. It was an annual thing for us. We'd pick tons of apples, pay an outrageous amount for them, grab some cider, and spend the rest of the blasted month thinking of ways to cook, bake and, generally, eat apples. It got to be difficult after a while. Even now, I have to really crave apple pie to eat it and I almost never crave apple pie.

So we set off. I make perperations because I get car sick. I almost never puke and when I do I give advanced notice. But I always liked to be careful about that sort of thing. I'd take my Dramamine, bring bags, grab lemon drops or some other candy, etc. My cousin, the one who actually did tend to puke without warning, never prepared. He'd vehemently deny that he was the puker. I carried perfume because I knew what would happen.

We're driving for what seems an extraordinary length of time when we (my mom, cousin, and I) start to wonder if we're lost. My father is sure we're on the right track, though. After another hour, even he has to agree: we're so lost. We start looking for a gas station or something to ask for directions. There are none. Then I start to notice the buggies. You know, the horse-drawn carriages. The people eye our car warily, we eye the people warily. I ask my mom if they're Amish or what. She's unsure. We drive some more.

Suddenly, without warning, my cousin begins to heave. He just sits there and pukes all over himself and the car. I'm shoving a bag at him and he just keeps puking. The moron. I swat him on the arm and yell at him, "The bag! You're supposed to puke in the bag!!" My father starts yelling at the both of us while glaring at us in the rear view mirror. Because he's so intent on us, he's swearving all over the road. My mom's yelling at my father to watch the goddamn road, dammit. My mom never swears, so this is a shock. My cousin and I do the whole "Ooooh!" thing like you do when your friend is sent to the principal's office. My mom gives us a dirty look. I start gagging from the smell. I crank open the window and shove my head out. My father yells at me to shut the window, it's cold. I say that I'd rather freeze than smell that. He pulls over so we can clean my cousin up. My bags came in handy after all.

He still stinks, though. So I've got my perfume. I inconspicuously spray him. He rats me out, the little (I don't care if he is 3 years older, he's always been "little") brat. I have the window open a crack and my nose is shoved through that crack. He's shivering and moaning. He puked all over his coat so it's in one of the bags, and he's still feeling pukey but he won't take a Dramamine. And we're still lost. We're driving and driving and I know we're all thinking "worst road trip....ever!" Eventually we find a gas station, get directions, and go home.

Screw the apples.

I got bored..

You're Lili St. Cyr!

What Classic Pin-Up Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

***


Sweet Dreams

You want people to see what is really going on. You
see what you see, and try to explain it, but it
seems everyone else is averting their eyes to
the truth.

What Tori Amos Song are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

***


You are: Bell!

Loud, brassy, and big-mouthed, you ask, "WTF
kind of dumb-ass quiz is this? I'm not a fruit,
you frickin' moron!" And as usual, your
sentiments are dead-accurate (albeit
obnoxious): You're NOT a fruit, and I AM a
moron. Damn you.

You're tough, you know what you want, and you're
ANYTHING but fruity. Fat chance of anyone ever
catching up you. The programmers who stuck you
in this stoopid game better watch their backs!

YOUR VALUE: 3,000 points

Which Pac Man Fruit are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

***


Which Shakespearean heroine are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

***


You're Melancholy! You are ruled by the Black Bile
(which, by the way, doesn't exist). As a
Melancholy, you are gifted, analytical,
aesthetic, self-sacrificing, industrious, and
self-disciplined. Unfortunately, you can also
be moody, self-centered, revengeful, touchy, a
bit too theoretical, unsociable, critical, or
negative at times.

Which of the four Humours are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

***


You are Sloth.
You avoid physical or spiritual work.
According to the Bible, your punishment will be
being thrown in snake pits.
My advice to you: Get off of your lazy ass and do
something with yourself.

Which of the Seven Deadly Sins Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

***


You are Form 2, Angel: The Pure.

"And The Angel rose as holy protector for
all that was created. She fought with honor
and valor to serve the good of the world. But
the coming of the mankind was her downfall; and
end to purity."

Some examples of the Angel Form are Michael
(Christian) and Hercules (Greek).
The Angel is associated with the concept of virtue,
the number 2, and the element of wind.
Her sign is the zenith sun.

As a member of Form 2, you are a person of your
word. You generally keep your promises and
give everything you do your best. Although
some people see you as overbearing sometimes,
you know that you have to stay true to yourself
and do what's right. Angels are the best
friends to have because they are brutally
honest.

Which Mythological Form Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

***


You will be the first ninja to use daffodils as
weapons. Plus, you kick butt.

What is your Fate?
brought to you by Quizilla

***


Maniacal Mastermind: Forever the one with the
plan, YOU are the person who holds any
organization dedicated to villainy and evil
together, and that is no easy job! Not always
in a position of leadership or even wide
recognition, you often guide your nefarious
plots from behind the scenes, carefully putting
each and every piece in motion, plan in gear,
all so you can sit back and watch your
masterpiece come to fruition. Notorious
Masterminds of Comic Book Fame include Mr.
Sinister and The Riddler.

What Type of Evil Super Villain Would you be? (images)
brought to you by Quizilla

This and That

I'm too....something..to post today. Link time!

Can You Find the Worm in 60 Seconds? Strange little game. I found that worm!

Cardhouse's Hawaii Shop and Toys in Japan. Very amusing. I particularly like this one.

And last, but not least, The Virtual Absinthe Museum. Because we could all use a bit more of the Green Fairy in our lives.

Doom! Doom, Death, and a little Destruction thrown in for fun..

I'm still sorta feeling sorry for myself. About the aging thing. I have a sense of humor about it. I can't take my own self-pity too seriously. It's just not done in my family. We don't do self-pity. But since I'm the "overly dramatic" one (read: drama queen) and the "emotional one" (read: still drama queen, but maybe with capitals; i.e., Drama Queen) it's almost expected of me to wallow a wee bit in my self-pity but only if I make it funny for others.

I'm so used to doing that. That self-deprecating humor. And most of it is genuine. I don't take myself all too seriously. It's not some facade thrown up so people won't see my chewy, gooey center. I am, and always will be, a clown. A jester. A fool.

Which is pretty ironic since I'm kinda afraid of clowns. Not like running away screaming afraid, more like you come near me and I'll hurt you kind of afraid. But it's the truth. I'm the spazz of the family. The one who makes it ok for everyone to laugh at me, themselves and life in general.

My mom says I'm the glue in this family. As dramatic and controversial as I am, as much of a black sheep as I am, I'm the one who falls into the role of mediator. Well, uh, not the traditional role of mediator. I wind up saying things like, "You! You're being stupid! Shut up! Oh, and don't think you're any better... You're just as bad, if not worse! You shut up, too!"

I never could quite fall into the roles that people wanted me to play. I interpret them differently. I frustrate, exasperate and irritate. I know all of this about me. I know the good and bad sides of me (i.e., Good= Loyal, Bad= Arrogant). But I don't want to change either. I like being a pain in the ass, at least I'm not boring. So, dammit, I will wallow how I want to wallow and that's that!

And none of the above makes sense, but so what?

Yankee... Hotel... Foxtrot...

I'm in one of those mellow moods. I feel good. Almost like a stoned kinda good feeling, if that makes sense. I'm sure all of the stoners are nodding in earnest agreement whether they know what they're nodding about or not. Stoners are good for that. I should know, I was one once. Lord knows how many bags of Doritos and Oreos (not at the same time!) I went through. I've been listening to Bjork and Wilco today. I know, what a combination. It works somehow. I love, love, love Bjork's Medulla and Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, or YHF as I will refer to it from now on because I'm too lazy to type out the whole damn thing, is the reason for the mellow mood. It always makes me feel good. When I listen to it, I can push aside my worries just for a bit. Makes me want to listen to it constantly, but then I'd be like that guy in Office Space after he undergoes hypno-therapy and the doctor dies before he can snap him out of it. Not that that's a bad thing, but I think it'd annoy the hell out of everyone. I'm all about making you, the public, happy. Aren't I a martyr? All I do for you and you never write, you never call. Do you HATE me?! I can't bring myself to get worked up properly today. I feel that good. But MSN is starting to piss me off. The messenger keeps going offline. It's been doing that a lot lately.

The only thing that shook me up today was the realization that I'd soon be 29. So soon. Too soon. Now, I know 29 isn't old. I don't think it's old at all when someone else is that age. But 29 leads to 30. Not that 30 is old either. Well, not when it's other people turning 30. But 30 turns to 40 turns to 80 and so begins my slow, painful march towards death. Not that I'm afraid of death. I'm afraid of....well, age. It's like George said in last night's Dead Like Me about how old people are so...slow... I don't want to be slow. I don't want to forget things. I don't want to grow weaker, more dependent on people. I don't want to have to put Post-It notes on everything so I'll remember what they are and not confuse the brush for my pen or a mirror for a tv. I've seen that too many times in my older relatives. They range from the mildly forgetful to the seriously senile with some lovely dementia thrown in. It hurts to watch them. The confused, scared looks they get on their faces sometimes. And it scared the hell out of me. I might be like that one day. So this is what I think with each coming birthday. Cheery thoughts, no? I never thought I'd live this long, how will I deal with the future?

I need to blast some Wilco.

***

Sad:
Superman is dead.

Vindication:
Murphy's Law does exist! And here's the science to prove it.

Weird:
Solar eclipse will be over before it starts.

Quiz Mania!

How random are you?

this quiz was made by alanna

***


You're a punk rock mommy! DIY is probably your
motto, because you're a punk mama at heart.
Your kids are getting your independent spirit
and guts, and learning to solve problems
themselves. You love it when they show their
independence, even when it's breaking your
heart.

What kind of a freaky mother are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

***




Jolly good, wot! Anyone for tennis? That'll be ten ponies, guv. You're the epitome of everything that is english. Yey :) Hoist that Union Jack!

How British are you?

this quiz was made by alanna

Incognito

Did the wedding thing tonight. Well, reception really. Luckily, we didn't have to sit through a wedding, too. I have to say, I looked pretty rockin'. I worked my outfit. And, yes, I did catch some guys checking out my ass. What can I say? I know how to strut in my heels. The best part of the whole thing? Most of the people there didn't know who the hell I was. I love it when people don't recognize me. I have entirely too much fun with it.

The kids had a blast, too. Made some friends. The girl tried to dance a bit. Poor thing has no rhythm at all. She got that from her father. He was the whitest white boy when trying to dance. We went to a club once and I came back from it with bruises. He managed to clear a space on the dance floor with his flailing limbs. He elbowed a few people in the face. Did he notice any of this? Hell no. I finally had to make him sit down. I told him some people were never meant to dance. The girl is the same. I'm hoping to reverse this while she's young. She claps way off the beat. The boy, surprisingly enough, has plenty of rhythm. He just has no moves. I'll remedy that. Oh, yeah, momma knows how to work it.

I did my shopping today, too. That was exhausting. We had to pick up a few last minute bits of clothing and shoes and do our food shopping before we went out. I got a limited edition cd. Medulla by Bjork. It comes with a poster. You know you're seething with jealousy now, J. The best part? I got it for $9.50. I rock.

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll pass out. All of this rockin' is tiring.

A few links...

To get you into the Halloween spirit:
Is this a ghost? He looks a little too happy for a dead guy.

Ooooh:
Moon Lightning. So pretty! It almost looks fake it's so pretty.

The Art of Relaxation

I've been way too stressed lately. By lately, I mean the last 28 years of my life. Normally I do well under stress. It keeps me motivated. I work best under a time limit. But lately, I can't even sleep. I'm all in knots. Even Enya isn't knocking me out anymore! I used to be out cold before the first song finished. So, to relax, I've been trying to meditate. Sorta. I'm not chanting or any of that. I couldn't even take myself seriously if I did that. Not that it's weird or wrong or anything. I'm just an ass. I'd wind up goofing off and "Om" would turn into something else entirely different. Most likely, it would turn into gibberish. That's if I was feeling mature. Or it'd turn into a song. "Om on the Range". Because I'm 5 years old. And have a really lame sense of humor.

So I don't do chanting. I try mostly to do the deep breathing thing and zoning out thing. But even that doesn't work because I wind up concentrating too hard on my breathing. "Wait, did I hold that for a four count? I don't think I did. What was that sound? My left nostril's a bit blocked. Maybe I should spray and then try the breathing thing. Wasn't this song in a Bugs Bunny cartoon? Wait.. I think it was on a farm. Shit! Which was it?" and so on. I don't relax well. So I've been grabbing nearly every classical cd there is, hoping to find the one that will help me relax. So far, it's been a struggle. I need to get one of those sound machines. I used to have one. The ocean sounds would knock me out, but the heartbeat one scared the shit out of me. I felt like I was starring in my own horror movie. I don't know why they think that would relax anyone.

Prom Night

Or B-Actor Catfight Night

I'm not as lucky as my friends. They meet famous people a lot. Yes, I'm looking at you, J. I always almost meet the famous people. Or I meet people who've met famous people.

An example of almost meeting a famous person: After my flight home from Russia, at the airport. There's a huge crowd at the gate. Flash going off everywhere. I finally spot my mom and run over to her. She looks excited. We hug and she goes "Did you see her?" I have no idea who she's talking about. "Yoko Ono! She came off the plane ahead of you!" No, I didn't see Yoko Ono. I didn't even know she was on the plane. And, yes, it's sad that my mother was more excited to see the lady who broke up The Beatles more than her only child whom she hadn't seen for 6 weeks.

An example of knowing/meeting someone who's met someone famous: My uncle's best friend (we'll call him Joe, since it's his name) was an extra on a movie. He met some actors I admire greatly (Ok, ok.. Kevin Kline, Joan Cusack, and Tom Selleck). He also met his wife on set. They got married in the church that was in the movie. They also invited one of the stars, but he graciously declined.

The only semi-celebs I have ever actually met were SNL alums. And not even major players (though one has his own show now). I met them on my prom night. This is the accurate version of the events that took place that night. Not the exaggerated version where I knife someone. Yes, J, I'm looking at you...again.

I went stag to prom. A bunch of friends and I went together. Two went as dates (Flip and Juju), another brought a date (Tutu), and there was one other stag person (Jemma). I'm changed names here to protect the horribly guilty. Prom was surprisingly fun. We ate, danced, made fun of people. This was an unexpected turn of events; so when it was time to leave, we did so grudgingly. We had made plans to go to a comedy club in NYC. We figured everyone else was doing the boring thing and going to the shore, we'd have a better time. We, also unexpectedly, ran into a few people from our school outside the club. We had to wait until one show was over and ours began. The strap on Juju's dress snapped while we were waiting. We'd been having wardrobe malfunctions all night (the underwire in my bra had given out on me earlier in the evening, one wire at a time). Tutu and I were looking to see if we could fix it somehow when out steps one SNL alum. I was the only one who actually remembered his name, but that was because I was rather fond of a certain impression he did. He was very nice, chatted, and allowed Jemma to get a picture with him. He left and we went back to Juju's strap dilemma. I said we needed to give up the ghost. It was broken and she either needed to snap the other strap or go lopsided. Then out steps the other SNL alum. Now, at the time, I was kinda a fan of hers. She had an amusing character she played. I no longer see things that way. I tend to seethe when I see the woman, to be honest. Well, we notice she's heading toward her double parked car and Tutu comments "She's got the same car as my dad!" and I turn to look. Then, being the smart ass, sarcastic teen she was, Tutu finished that with "Bitch!" which brought forth a giggle from the crowd around us. We go back to trying to snap Juju's other strap. It's a bitch. The SNL alum heard Tutu's comment. The second part anyway. She stops and turns towards us and says "What did you say?"

It becomes dead silent. So quiet that I look up. Suddenly everyone's looking everywhere else. The sidewalk's fascinating. Ooh, look at that sky, will ya? I have never seen a more interesting stop sign before. I turn to the SNL alum and blink. She stares at me, all full of attitude, and asks "Well?" I shrug, kinda wave her off and say "It's nothing. We weren't talking to you." This brings out all kinds of attitude in her and resulted in this conversation:

SNLA: "What did you say? I want to know what you said."

Me: "I didn't say anything! Now go away."

SNLA: "Someone said something!"

Me: "Doesn't matter. Go away."

SNLA: "Who called me a bitch?!"

Me: "No one is talking to you. Go away!"

SNLA: "I want to know who called me a bitch!"

Me: "Go. Away. GO AWAY!"

And so on.. Eventually, a cop drove up the street and she had to run to her double parked car. It couldn't have lasted more than five minutes but I, somehow, became a hero. By Monday it had blown way out of proportion. Even now it's blown out of proportion. And it was nothing. Less than nothing. Me and a B-Celeb arguing over nothing for a second. But that was my only brush with semi-celebrity-dom.

Sad, isn't it?

Woo!

You rule. in 15 years, you won't be as known as you
are now, but most of the people that will know
you then will like you (or else I'll beat them
with a stick). You're nice to listen to.


What band from the 80s are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Hell yeah! The Pixies rock!

My Style

Your artistic style is:


Interesting, no?

Paper Queen

I have a confession: I love lists. I love making lists. But I really love crossing things off of lists. Today, I spent the whole day cleaning off my desk. It was on one of my lists. Yes, lists. I have many. Some of the lists I found-- unearthed might be more accurate-- on my desk were very old. Some of them, I couldn't read. My handwriting has gotten considerably worse since the internet came 'round. I used to have lovely handwriting. I got many compliments on it.

Back to the lists. I have many lists. I even have lists about lists. Sometimes? I cheat and throw something I accomplished onto a list so I can cross it off. Yes, it's sad, I know. I also have running mental lists. Most of my lists are on paper. Or scraps of paper. Generally, you'll find them scrawled out on yellow lined paper. I love my yellow paper. I threw a hissyfit in the supermarket when they stopped selling my favorite notepad with the yellow lined paper. I bought a rather large supply of legal pads in a variety of sizes, but they don't touch my beloved Cambridge notebooks. The kind with the spiral at the top and that has the perforated pages. If I do find it, they have it in the wrong size. I'm not even sure of the exact size. It's not the regular 8-1/2 x 11 paper. It's smaller. Oh, shut up. We all have our quirks. Mine happen to be paper and lists.

I've always been a bit picky about my paper. It's from art class. I'm used to drawing or painting on a certain weight paper. I tend to prefer heavier weights to the flimsy. They're easier to write on. The ink flows better. So there is reason to my madness. It's not just one of my many unexplainable quirks. I'm a tactile person and an artist and certain papers just feel right.

The lists thing I can't explain so well.

***

Weird:
Girl believes bones belong to dead friend. Makes you wonder about your kid's imaginary friend, huh?

Wedding March Blues

I have to go to this wedding this weekend. To say I'm not a wedding person is a gross understatement. They make me feel skittish and uncomfortable. Everyone asks you when you're getting married an' all that. Well, they stopped that with me. Being divorced has its merits. Oh, yes, I got married. It wasn't the marriage and the divorce that made me semi-anti-marriage, I was that way long before all that. I'm not the bitter divorcee.

Ok, I know you're wondering "If she admits to being semi-anti-marriage, how did she manage to get married?" The answer is this, I was weak and caved. I was tired of being nagged about it. Not the most romantic reason, is it? Isn't it a wonder we didn't last? We eloped. And I was scared shitless the whole time. I don't remember much of it. It's all a blur. But, as marriage-phobic as I am, I managed to last with that one for a decent amount of time. 7 years, I think. Granted, our separation was nearly as long as our marriage, but let's not quibble over trivial details. I learned my lesson: Never marry young. Or marry at all, if you can help it.

Back to the wedding this weekend. I didn't even know that the guy (a distant cousin of some sort on my father's side-- have to go because he's "family", no way out of it) was engaged until I got the blasted invite. I conveniently forgot about the whole thing until recently when I was asked what I was wearing. Hell.. I don't do well in "grown up" clothes. They're itchy, confining, etc. I almost never wear dresses and/or skirts. But it's a wedding. I figured it's time to suck it up and be a big girl now. I need to buy a dress or a skirt. So I got it. The skirt. Love it, actually. So why am I grumbling? It's a mild form of jealousy.

No, I don't want to get married. Been there, done that, have the battle scars to prove it. I'm not even sure I want to be in love either. I'd just like to know that there might be maybe one sane man out there that might be just a bit attracted to me. Someone I could possibly be attracted to as well. That's not too much to ask for, is it? Why do I get all of the crazies? The one's who are all "I'll love you till the day you die" with that slightly glazed look in their eyes. You know, the future Charles Mansons. So I'm kinda jealous of the people that manage to find a nice, normal person that they like/love. I, on the other hand, am working my way through the DSM-IV.

***

Hee!:
Cockeyed.com's very funny Atkinz Menu prank at TGI Friday's.

More Quizzes...

Well, shatter-bones, you seem like a joker. Playing
pranks is funny to you of course. You like to
fool around with others and be, well, annoying.
Haha. Egg-throwing and smashing windows on
Halloween must be entertaining. If you're
having fun, then good for you. Just don't take
it too far or get caught. Happy Halloween,
Mr./Ms. Funny Bones.


What Halloween Figure Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

***



You are The Mad Hatter


One thing is for sure- you're as mad as a hatter.
You have an obsession with time and if tea time
were to ever cease, you would probably be even
more confused.


What Alice in Wonderland Character Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

***


Dream, the third of The Endless, you are in charge
of the Dreaming, all imagination and
creativity, everyone knows your beautiful
realm, but none truly understand it. You are
dark and brooding, creative, and spend a lot of
time by yourself, just thinking. You are almost
as serious as Destiny, but not quite. Everyone
is enchanted by you, but you keep them all at a
distance, even when you shouldn't.


Which Endless are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

In Response...

Or How Stinky Managed to Keep Me Up Later than I Had Planned.

I was reading a friend's post about jerks reducing a lovely young actress into so much meat that they can lust over (but never hope to ever touch) and the classless way they described her....attributes? Now once upon a time, I was an angry lil riot grrrl and loudly protested men-- I use the term loosely-- like them. The jerks, not my friend. Since that time, I've mellowed. Well, ok, I haven't mellowed all that much, but I have learned to pick my battles. Sometimes. Idiotic comments about the female form no longer have me up at arms, screaming "My eyes are up here!" anymore. Most of that just rolls off my back now. Why? You can't change people. You can't make the morons see the light. You can only hope that the light is a fast moving train and they're too slow and/or dumb to move off the tracks.

I could rant and rave at the jerks, but what would that change? If anything, they've won by getting a rise out of me. I keep my comments to a minimum because it's a waste of my time, my breath, my energy. And, yes, I have had comments like that directed toward me, Stinky. I've met my share of scum. I've even hurt a few, but that's another story. Most of those men make their annonymous comments on a forum because they're too afraid of saying anything like that in real life. In real life, they feel powerless. Maybe emasculated. I can't be sure. I don't even really care. I've stopped wondering about men who so obviously hate women. I've even gotten out of such a friendship. The only thing to do is let them be small. I believe they hate themselves more than they hate anyone else.

Holy Mackerel!

You are Fluffy Mackerel Pudding!! You somehow
manage to combine seafood and dessert into your
wonderfully fluffy world. We should all be as
tolerant of New Taste Sensations. And of
big-yolked eggs.


What Weight Watchers recipe card from 1974 are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

More Cowbell!

I kinda farted around today. I cleaned in a half-assed way. Cooked dinner in the same half-assed way. I was too busy watching 101 Most Unforgettable SNL Moments on E! I used to be a huge fan of SNL. Grew up on it. I haven't watched it much in the past couple of years. But then, I don't watch much tv anymore. I have my shows and that's all I watch. But I have so many fond memories of the old SNL. Eddie Murphy, Dan Akroyd, Bill Murray, Chevy Chase, Jane Curtin, Gilda Radner, Steve Martin, John Belushi... I adored and worshipped them. Comedy was something everyone in my family admired. I didn't realize just how risque a lot of that humor was at the time. I turned to my mom and said "You let me watch some raunchy stuff there, you know? Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy, George Carlin, Cheech and Chong.." and she said "They were raunchy, but they were damned funny!" And now she wonders about my sense of humor.

Anyway, back to SNL. I found out a nifty little tid bit of info while watching 101 Most Unforgettable SNL Moments. It debuted exactly one day before I was born. Pretty damn cool, huh? I thought so. They didn't get all of my favorite skits in on that list, but they got a good amount of them. I was busy laughing most of the day. They were pretty damn cutting edge back in the day. They couldn't get away with half of the stuff they did in this day and age. Let's take some of Eddie Murphy's characters for examples. Buckwheat. One of my favorite of his characters. Hilariously funny. There's no way he would be allowed to do that today. Very un-PC. Also, his White Like Me skit. This is where Eddie gets made-up as a white man and goes around town. He's suddenly given all kinds of perks because he's "white". Very funny. No way you'd see that on today's SNL either. Have we gotten too carried away with PC? Or are we more about the pretty than the personality? I don't know. But I do miss my old SNL. The new one isn't funny and hasn't been for a long time.

Look at me, I'm getting all nostalgic and old ladyish. "Back in my day.."

Tales from the Pond

Or Attack of the Leaping Fish.

This story comes from my trip to Russia when I was 16. I was a lucky girl, wasn't I? My father took me, his twin sister, and her son. My mother didn't go because she refuses to set foot on a plane. This was my first plane trip ever. I was very excited. I plan on telling a few Russia stories, so I should give some background. My aunt hated me. Very much. From the day I was born. She taught her son to hate me as well. He'd forget on occasion, and when he did we got along very well. But a lot of the time, he was a brat and we fought. My father and I fought almost constantly when I was a kid. So no one really got along and we were going to another country for 6 weeks. Sound like fun?

So we're in Russia visiting relatives. Distant cousins on my father's side. I wind up calling them aunt and uncle, though, 'cause they're older. They're lovely people. My "uncle" was in an important position at the time, so we had to be careful about how we travelled. Usually we had a bodyguard of some kind. I know, it sounds all oh-la-la but it was more annoying than anything. I'd sneak out all of the time. But I digress. My uncle decides that we should picnic up at this wonderful lake he knows. Said something about the wonderful fish there. Huge fish. We hop into several different jeeps. We weren't allowed to travel in the same car as my uncle. He'd had several attempts on his life and it wasn't safe to ride with him. My cousin, Den, and I ride in our own jeep.

A moment to talk about Russian cars. At the time, there were about five different cars you could find in Russia. None are like any car you know. We are talking no shocks, people. None. That's bad enough on a normal paved road, but you go out into the country with gravel roads and potholes bigger than a child and you want to die. To say we were jostled is an understatement. Our heads actually slammed, repeatedly, into the ceiling. Eventually, I hunched down low in my seat to avoid that. Now, if you're a girl, you'll understand this part.. I had to cross my arms over my chest because I thought my boobs would be bounced off my body. I was dying. I had a migraine, my chest hurt, my stomach hated me, my back was protesting. It was hell. My cousin, the puker, luckily managed to keep from hurling this time. I was grateful for that small favor.

We finally arrive at the lake. It's....well, a lake. I'm not a nature person so don't expect me to wax poetic on it. There were some picnic tables, a rowboat, and a paddle boat. They put out these fish traps and we were told to go find something to do, have fun. Now I don't remember whose idea it was, but we all wound up thinking how fun it would be to hop into the rowboat. I tried to paddle at first, but that didn't work well. My left arm is much weaker than my right and I had to row twice on my left side for every one stroke on my right. It was jerky and making people ill. I should also say that I had two cousins in the boat with me. Both male, Den and A. I'm protecting the innocent here. A was sitting up on the back (aft?) of the rowboat, Den took over the middle and the rowing, and I sat up front. I was half turned to the back to talk to both. I was nervous about A sitting up on the edge of the boat like that but shrugged it off. Hindsight, man.. It's a bitch.

We're rowing and chatting and laughing. Then we get out to the middle and the boat gets knocked off course. I look over the side and it was a huge fucking fish. It rammed the boat. I blink a bit but shrug it off. Then another. And another. We look at each other and chuckle nervously. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch this thing flying through the air near the back of the boat. I then hear A shriek. This, of course, causes me to let out a yelp. The combined shrieking and yelping makes Den scream like a little girl. This freaks me out so I scream a bit more. I turn to A. He's got a huge fish on his lap that he's trying to shoo off, all while shrieking. That stops my screaming. I'm too stunned to at this point. A scoots the fish off his lap and back into the water. He's got a huge wet spot from the fish across his lap. Eventually, Den stops his screaming. I hear distant laughter from the shore. Den turns to me and asks, "What were we screaming about?" My jaw drops.

I tell him about the huge fish, he peeks over the side and shudders. At this point, we're all shaken and dazed. He rows straight into some reeds and catches an oar to the chest, nearly knocking himself into the fish infested water. We decide it'd be best for all if we stay on land. On the way back fish ram us left and right. I won't lie, we were scared. They were still laughing at us when we dragged ourselves out of that boat and back onto shore. All we could say was "You don't know.. You just don't know." and "Huge fish! Attacking us!"

We ate our fish lunch with great relish. Sweet revenge. And after lunch? We went on the paddle boat. Yeah, not too bright, are we?

Summary

Big shopping day. Ugh..

I bought a lot, but will be returning some. I needed an outfit for a wedding I have to go to next week. I couldn't decide between two skirts. I got both, figuring that I could alway return the one I don't wear. And I got a cute little twin set (that's a cardigan and matching shirt-- also knit). The cardigan had these little pearls around the neck. I get home and notice that one pearl is now missing and another pops off while I'm wearing it, so that's going back. I picked the skirt I like. It's the lovely silk. Very light and floaty looking. It's very dark brown, almost looks black. But I forgot to get a slip to wear under. You can practically see through the thing. I got some wonderful boots. An ankle boot and knee-high boot. Both with killer heels. Got them on sale.

I also got my father's birthday present. His birthday's today, but he's decided to spend it out at this function with some other family members. We're doing a little thing for him tomorrow. I got him a book he's been dying to read. I hope he likes it.

I got an email from one of my psycho exes today. The second one. He's sure that I'm jealous of his new girlfriend and avoiding him because of that. I finally told him the truth. I couldn't sit through another one of our conversations again. They're painful. And we're talking about two different things more often than not, hadn't he noticed? I wished him well and sent him off. I'm done. I'm hoping to avoid twisted relationships in the future. Knock on wood, etc.

Unnnngh...

I ran out of Nyquil. I was forced to take Dayquil last night instead. Nothing seems to work completely anymore anyway. I spent the night, propped up on several pillows so I could breathe, exhausted but unable to sleep. I wake up long enough to shove the kids off to school, crawl back into bed, only to be awakened by the tile guy. Yes, the same guy. He did the shower once. More recently, he's been working on the floors: bathroom and kitchen. He's still not done. Yeah, I didn't expect anything different. I'm not shocked, angry or whatever. I'm too sick to care. I only get a bit pissy when he gets between me and my cold meds. I've stock-piled them in the living room where I occasionally crash.

I'm so tired from the combination of drugs and lack of sleep. Half of the time I'm sitting/standing there, completely dazed, only to realize that someone's been talking to me. For how long? I do not know. They'll ask me if I'm listening and I'll shake my head "no". Hey, I'm honest! I think I might've even left the room a few times in the middle of some of these conversations. I don't remember. Hell, I'm lucky if I can finish a complete sentence. I find myself trailing off midway and completely losing my train of thought. This blog entry alone has taken me quite sometime and what have I said? Nothing. But that's ok because I never claimed to be an interesting person. Nor did I ever claim to be a writer. I fully accept, and even embrace, my utter suckiness.

And now I will go pass out on the couch again.