Your positive sound bite of the day

Well Christmas is over & its the new year. Time to analyze my life, make resolutions & over come bad habits....or not.

I don't do new year resolutions. I am smart enough to watch everyone fail miserably with their new found enthusiasm to do the impossible!

I actually am on the 5 year plan. I try to think about what I would like to be like at 40 years old. Then I HOPE some pixie dust falls on me & presto, 40 years old...I'm wiser, Bit#$er, stronger & happier.

5 years.....I got 5 years to fail. Or 5 years to succeed. I figured if I fail after 5 years....I really won't care because I'll forget what my goal was. If I succeed, well...then....I'll be taking myself out to dinner!

So stay away from New Years Resolutions...nothing good ever comes from them.

Of little things

Sometimes all it takes are tiny moments to break the rain clouds up & smear a little sunshine into a really bad day.

So is it weird to be really, really happy that my good friend Brandy is buried a few paces away from my mom's grave? As the funeral caravan drove to the grave site that snappy cold day weeks ago, my heart thumped out of my chest as I drove past mom's grave & realised Brandy would be nestled close by! It actually made me SMILE.

My mood was lifted by this little token of sweetness. I felt lighter as I walked to Brandy's grave to huddle with the rest of the mourners. Brandy's sister saw me & rushed over to me. Her words were quick & to the point. She was trying not to cry & needed to rush back to her mother. "I found this in Brandy's apartment. It's totally you! Brandy would want you to have it." She placed something into my gloved hand & rushed off to stand with her parents.

I slowly open my mitted paw and saw this beautiful pill box. I was speechless. I heard something rattle around inside the box & attempted to open it....with my gloved hands....in a blustery mid-west wind storm. Did I mentioned I had mittens on? I was too excited to remove my gloves (& it was too freak'n cold!) So I struggled with the tiny latch. I went to pop it open, but my gloves proved too clumsy & up, up, UP flipped the little pill box. I saw it in slow motion flip into the air over & over again with me batting at it like a frenzied cat. I stumbled forward chasing after this thing, trying to control it. All the while....I'm laughing hysterically to myself. For all I could see was Brandy clutching her side, grabbing her knee laughing with me. I finally wrestle the box from the invisible wintry winds with a "gotcha YA!"

I looked up after my tango with the crazed pill box to find a very tall man giggling at me. I was glad to ease his mourning...kind of.

Clutching the pill box as if it was a Mexican jumping bean, I removed one glove to pry open the latch. Inside the box was a matching necklace. Removing my other glove, I poised to put on the necklace. Looking up, the tall man nodded to me silently asking me if he could help. But by that time, the necklace was on & it was time to begin the burial.

The tall man noticed my new necklace & was grateful (I'm sure) I was done stumbling around like a drunken fool. He gave me the thumbs up and cocked his head to have me join him. So I squeezed myself next to him with my knees banging against each other from the cold. Soon other people crowed around me. Smiling, we knowingly crushed each other to try to keep warm. There we stood. My cheek against an elbow, a woman's hair blowing in my face, shoulders, legs, backs all touching. Grounding us. Holding down our grief. Teeth clattered so loud that we soon found ourselves stifling our GIGGLES.

The winter wind nor the circumstances did not erase my new found smile. Standing cocooned by the crowd, wind whipped & freezing.... I smiled a toothy inappropriate smile (for a funeral!) as I picture my mother holding Brandy hand as they howl together in laughter.

The no good, bad, sad stinky reunion

I was surprised by the sound of the wail that came from my gut. It vibrated out of my bowels & stung my ears. For a moment I didn't realise the horrible sound was coming from my own lips.


My friends wake & funeral was surreal, painful, funny, touching & just plain awful. When I walked into the the parlor with my Dad, I saw my dear friend & her parents. I did screech and clap my hands at the sight of her. We both did the happy dance at the sight of one another. We forgot, for a moment what this reunion was for. As I walked over to her, our giggles turned to sobs. Our faces mimicked the horror in each others faces. By the time I reached her, we were both in full blown wailing mode. I clung to her little body & moan over & over again "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" Soon her father joined us & wrapped us both in his lanky arms & he cried into the top of my head. Her mom clung to my waist. We were a pathetic, weepy, wailing burrito of sorrow. Brandy would have rolled her eyes at the theatrics!

The crying settled & we peeled ourselves off of each other. Her sister took my hand & turned me toward Brandy, "go on & say Hi."

I don't remember walking up to her casket, but the next thing I knew I was awkwardly hunched over her casket (damn kneeling pew in my way) clutching a lock of her black hair & patting her shoulder. I'm sure my Dad was thinking I was going to climb in with her! I was shocked at how good she looked. She looked like she was sleeping. Her make up just right (well the coral lipstick did her no justice. She doesn't wear coral lipstick! Arrggg, I squashed the urge to pull out my own lipstick. Really....coral?) My 35 year old rational brain drained out of my ears & all that was left was my 8 year old self, shacking her shoulder & patting her face trying to wake her up.


I finally manged to have some decorum & lower my knees to the pew in front. Still confused, I rub her, thinking that would wake her up. Her mother wailing " her little friend from school, her little friend." made me cry more. After a few minutes of talking to Brandy, I regained my earthy self & remembered that she is gone. She is just a pretty shell that once housed her noble, sweet, smart & fierce spirit. Poor Brandy, her lock of hair soaked with so many tears.



I stayed 4 hours with the family that night. Drained of all joy, I watched over Brandy & her family.

The day of the burial was brutally cold. The drive to the burial grounds was quiet & reflective. Kindness was shown. To the man who accidentally pulled out in front of the caravan then quickly pulled over, mouthing sorry & waving. The construction worker who removed his hat & stopped traffic in an intersection to wave us through. To the friends & strangers who linked arms walking to the site. People united in grief rubbing backs, holding hands & offering a sad smile. Death makes us remember we are all in this life together. No matter who we are or what we are. Life is short, we need to care & tend to one anther. Lift each others burdens & make our presence known to each other.
I don't want to live with anymore regrets. I don't want friends to slip through the cracks, promptings to go unheard, jaded thoughts, lazy intentions. I don't want to endure to the end, but rejoice to the end.





Dearest Brandy, thank you for your friendship. I'm sorry you had to go so soon. You are healthy. You are happy. You are well taken care of. Those who you unwilling left behind are the one's who I feel sorry for. We will do our best to live a life that is noble, kind & happy. Then one day, I hope to see you again. You'll squeeze my neck & this time your hair will be soaked with tears of happiness, not sorrow.

Too soon, too soon

Today I am going back to my hometown to visit a friend. I stand in front of my closet, staring at all the Goodwill clothes I have hanging up. Trying to pick out the perfect outfit to wear. Should I wear the pink sweater or the black? Decisions, decisions.

I have known Brandy since Jr. High. We were in band, choir, theater together. Her sister & I were inseparable in High School. We did lots of awesome things together like plays, prom, dances. We grew up together and in time we shared education,weddings, & friendship. For my wedding, the sisters gave me a "honeymoon box" filled with treats, sparkling cider, boxers for my soon to be lover & a beautiful, elegant nightie. They were so excited to have me see this nightie that before the reception they ripped open the box to show off their perfect GIFT. We squealed in delight as Brandy held up the long, cream colored "dress" from the box. They say they knew it was me when they saw it. They know me very well.

The SISTERS were a year apart & loved each other fiercely. Brandy being older, she reminded me of a wise old owl (she'd kill me for saying that!) Sitting high above the tree, silently watching. Offering advice, breaking lose once & awhile. Only to return to her perch, watching. She could be quiet & still. Sweet. She would say my name in a breathless, childlike voice. but she was anything but childish. For if a friend or sister was in need, she'd swoop down & rip the offenders throat out with her talons & screech until everyone knew she'd come after them. Do not mess with this quiet girl! She will take you down in one graceful swoop!

As I stand here, perusing my collection of "designer" duds, I smile at my memories of her. Her hair I loved (she hated it!) The lessons on Korean etiquette & catch phrases (I still remember a few!) Sitting on her bed & talking about boys. BOYS! How we pledged to remain virgins until marriage, we even had a pop top on our key chains to prove we were virginal! The days & nights we spent at her parents restaurant, where her Mom made an Italian beef sandwich just they way I liked it. Mrs. O sad for me when my mom died, insisting that they will take care of me...which she did by feeding me! Her Mom made my first sushi & insisted I eat tomato's, "More tomato's! Give you big boobies ahhh. look at Brandy, she likessss tomato's! " Mommmmmm! "Her sister, don't like tomatoes, no boobies." Motherrrrr! They laughed at me when I wanted to try Kimchi. A very pickled, HOT salady thingy. I gained respect that day in the O household when I was able to eat 2 bites without chocking! "You good girl! I like you. You want more tomato? You need bigger boobies." Thank you Mrs. O.


These 2 girls were there for me as my mom died. When I was boy friendless, struggling with classes. Through bad hair days & really bad hair days! They both were very smart. The kind of smart that got them into prestigious schools. Brandy had the kind of smarts that should have intimidated me. But she was Brandy, the girl who was every ones friend. Never boasting, never proud. Always sweet & funny & patient.

I will visit my friend today. I'll have to remember to not screech with joy when I see her sister & parents. I'll have to hold myself back from twirling Brandy's hair. I will put my face right next to hers, trying not to giggle or breath as I wait for her to wake up. She was as bad with mornings as I was. Staring at her usually woke her up, then when she did wake up, she'd beat you with a pillow till she knocked your teeth out!

I'll visit my friend today, tucked in her casket. Her sister might as well be bleeding from the right side of her body that has just been ripped away. Her parents glazed & weary. Her Mom won't speak.

How do I do this? I can't view her like this. I remember her, running towards me, arms up over her head, squealing my name with her sing song voice as she wraps her arms around my neck & put her head on my shoulder. I'll remember the chirps & moans that vibrated out of her thoat. Her eye rolls at her mother. Her devotion to her sister. Her respect for her parents. I'll stand with my close friend and her parents as we BLEED.

Today I get to visit my friend.

Killer

I'm not much into chain mail, hoaxes, stories from unknown sources and other assorted email inbox crap. I like to hear real stories from real people. So on that note, I begin.

I have a friend. Yes, she is real, she is not made up in my mind (shocking, I know!) She is the neatest person. She is a wife, mom, a college student & overall swell lady. She is beautiful, sassy, & knows how to accessorise. She also works at a maximum security prison. (well, technically, she is in an internship. She shadows professionals as they council the inmates) She LOVES working there. She says she feels safe & respected. Since she 'works" with the counselors, the inmates treat her well. She is viewed as someone who "helps" not hurts the inmates. So for the most part, inmates will talk to her about politics, prison closings, food and how beautiful her breasts are.........hey man, it's still prison! What did you expect? A teddy bear tea party?!

This is an essay she got at the prison. She does not know who wrote it. It is handed out to all the guys who take the Lifestyles Redirection course that she has been helping with. Now I pass it on to you. So now you have heard this unknown author story from a friend-of-a-chick-who-writes-a-blog. You can then pass it down & it can become a story from a 3rd-party-once-removed-cousin-of-the-carwash-guy.

How to raise a killer without really trying.

Have you ever thought about raising a killer son? No? While it does take some effort and a little like, it's actually not that difficult to do. Just in case you would like to try, the following guidelines will help you get started.

First of all, to keep your son from becoming a wimp, he must learn the rules of the masculine code. If he cries, acts scared or is sensitive, act disgusted and shame him immediately by calling him a weakling, a sissy or a wimp. No matter what's going on inside of him, he should always appear tough, cool and in control. To accomplish this, teach him the masculine poker face that hides fear, hurt, sadness, anger, excitement and even joy. As he learns these and other manly qualities, it's also important that you never let him feel like he's good enough. Shame and humiliate your son every chance you get. Criticize him until he believes he'll never get it right. Poor self-esteem and a sense of shame are qualities that always seem to be part of a young killer's personality, so don't neglect them.

While shame and low self-esteem are an important part of a young killer's makeup, they are just not enough. Lots of parents shame and humiliate their kids, and while their sons end up miserable, they never kill anybody. But if you add the right kind of discipline and punishment to the mix, the odds are much greater that you may have a young killer on your hands. This brings us to the four main ingredients that serve as the very foundation of a killer's personality: hatred, rage, fear and powerlessness. Now don't be intimidated by the sheer magnitude of having to create all this in your son. It's really not that hard.

Here's how it works. Whenever you feel anger, rage or frustration for any reason, take it out on your son. Scream at him, hit him, whip him or jerk him around when you are out of control with anger. When you hurt and terrorize him with this kind of punishment, you accomplish all four goals at once. Your rage will terrify him because his brain believes you're mad enough to actually kill him. Because you are unpredictable and so much bigger than him, he will feel powerless. And enduring so much physical and emotional pain at the hands of the father he needs to trust will certainly produce some inner rage in the boy. Finally, a boy who is whipped and shamed enough will develop hatred for himself and others. But don't ever let him get away with expressing hatred or anger toward you. If he does, punish him swiftly and surely. Then let him know that he has no reason to be angry at you because it is him and his shameful behaviors and attitudes that drive you into a rage. Work hard to convince him that you're a loving and concerned parent and you're punishing him for his own good because you love him. This way, maybe your son won't grow up to be one of those people who blame their parents for their own misery.

Speaking of blame, it's a great idea for your kid to start out learning how to blame others for the fear and hatred you have stirred in his soul. He can begin by taking out his aggressive, hateful feelings against a puppy, kitten or a smaller kid. This early behavior is a sign that he's on the right track. Then, if you play your cards right, you can have him graduate to blaming and attacking Blacks, women, Jews and others different from him. He'll also learn, by watching you, to abuse the people in his life who displease or disappoint him. Finally, if your son ever wants to talk to you for some reason, don't listen to him. Treat whatever he says with disrespect. Either ignore him or say something that will shut him up. A good example of this might be, 'Where in the hell did you get and idea like that?' Or 'Don't bother me right now, can't you see I'm reading the paper?' 'What's wrong with you anyway? Are you really that stupid?' This way he'll feel invisible, not worth your time, and like he doesn't belong in your world. This can be good because angry, hostile kids who feel worthless and invisible can be pushed into violence if they think it can make them feel important or visible.

Of course, I'm not serious about raising a killer kid. Unfortunately too many young boys are raised so that their angry, aggressive sides are encouraged while their tender, vulnerable sides are discouraged. It's time the mainstream of our society realized that most of the violent kids are not generated by the Internet, television, movies or video games; they come from violent or emotionally destructive families.

Think about it.
How many times have I ignored my child? Rolled my eyes, been annoyed by their crying, let them hear me while I raged about something? We all have done it....in some form or another. Are we raising killers? I hope not.

This is as positive as I get!

Fall. I use to like it, now it just brings me down. As a child I would love fall because it was all about leaf piles my Dad would make for me, sweaters, cider, crisp nights & comfort food. Now, as a jaded adult, all I see is "WINTER IS COMING, TIME TO GET REALLY DEPRESSED". I HATE being an adult, Jeez Louis, where has my inner child gone? How can I regain my love for all things fall? Only one thing to do...look to my children.

Open my eyes & really see the world around me. Thankfully, I have a camera to take pictures that I can look to when I'm under a pile of snow.

When in doubt, exercise! Scale a tower of hay.

Petting a fuzzy creature makes everyone happy.

Or blog about how much I hate cold feet, winter morning mucus, non-stop runny noses & shaving in a bathroom that has a temperature that hovers just above 30 degrees.

I'll do my best to be positive....ok...no I won't. Who am I kidding?! Cold sucks. Must remember fuzzy bunnies, fuzzy bunnies, fuzzy bunniessssss.

Enjoy the remainder of fall, because it will be over before you know it!

Because I can

I hate politics. Politicians are nothing but a bunch of liars & con men. There, I said it! Politics scared me. They scared me so much that I avoided the polling place for years! How many years you ask? Well, the first time I voted I was...."deep breath, donning flame proof jacket" 31, Thirty One, 3-1 years old. Yup, you heard right. I was 31 when I voted for the very first time!

I told my friend how much voting scared me & confessed to her that I was a loser who didn't vote. She didn't beat me, or slash the tires on my car. She told me step, by easy step, on how, what,where,when of voting (thanks J!) I found out that it really isn't that hard. All I had to do was speak up & get help. Imagine that!

So here I sit, 4 years later...voting. For me it was hard because I didn't like either candidate, but I studied up the best I could & then took a leap of faith & voted for who I thought would not do the worst job.

This voting season I feel worried about our country. I worry that the crapper is right around the corner. I worry, like everyone else worries. That's OK, that means I care for my country. Lately I feel like my vote doesn't count. I won't be heard. I don't matter. But then I remember who I am & my rights. We all worry, we all think our voice won't be heard. But our mothers before us would not agree with that. Our mothers before us will smile knowing that we daughters are worried, but we did the best we could do. We voted, because we can, because we should.

Undecided

So yaaaahhhhhh, I'm totally bang'n my head against the wall with this election. I am officially undecided. Some days (well most days) I feel like no matter what I do, nothing matters. This country is going to hell in a hand basket, so what's the point. Should I vote for dumb or dumber or throw away my vote in protest. . I mean realllyyyy... these 2 goons are the BEST we got?! How scary is that?!


Being as confused & beat down as I was, I decided to spend a beautiful, sunny fall day at the lovely Sugar Grove. They had a rock'n fall festival shaking up the prairie. Nature... Gods chill pill to us all. I enjoyed the wonder of the land. I left my troubled mind in my mini van. I just came to be. Not think, just be. Be apart of a little slice of prairie heaven. Fall is such a beautiful time. I looked around & a tear came to my eye as I smelled the campfire smoke, heard the children's sequels of joy. Every where around me was a harvest of beauty. Pumpkins, Red trees, apple cider, John McCain, blue grass music, birds...wait....John McCain? What the he#$?!




DUDE! Stop stalking me! Dam it! Can't I get away for just a freak'n minute! All I wanted was a little time away from the reality. Can't I enjoy Fall without the candidates following me? Arrggggg! Go AWAY! Yea, I know the election is right around the corner! Yes, you want my vote..but really? Really! Its important bla, de bla, bla BLAAAAAA! Everyone says "oh, just a few more weeks & all this election coverage will be over & we can get back to our normal routines." Ummmm earth to R'tard......after this election...there will be no such thing as "getting back to normal."
Mark my words, after this election this country will be more divided then it has been in a long time. Di-vid-edd-dd. That's not good. There will be an Us against Them mentality that will only heighten as time goes by.

I tried to ask Mr. McCain how he will unite the country. He just told me George Washington had really bad teeth. I asked him how he would protect our country. He showed me his gun.

I tried to have him talk to me about his politics, he just got all shifty eyed & panicky. I then got really frustrated that he wouldn't answer my questions. He just rattled on about "cow knees", Small Pox's & Hippo Ivory. Needless to say, John was not going to answer my questions. Its not that I would believe him anyway. I wouldn't believe Obama either if he showed up in buckskins & flannel.

The frustration was too much to handle. My beautiful Fall day was ruined..RUINED (stomp, stomp, stomp!) There was only one thing to do...I beat myself in the head with these until I went numb.

Although, maybe it was the tazer I was shot w/ that numbed me...or the tranquilizer I was given in the jail cell. Either way, I'm calm now.

Can someone post my bail please?

I just want to thank Mister McCain look alike. He really was sweet & did a great job teaching us about what a frontier man needed as he wanders the land. I do love history & I'm a sucker for a man in buck skins. Please, don't be discouraged that you look a little like McCain. You, my friend are way smarter & cuter then he.

The Nap aka "Bury my head in the sand."

• Life has gotten me down or rather, life is nucking futs! Let me explain. Everyday my little, "special" brain is bombarded by messages. Like a constant, annoying drip of water...messages eat away at me. You'd think a drop of water here or there wouldn't hurt. Not so! Drops of water have been known to soak through precious memories, destroy under the cabinet contents, rust pipes, drive a sleeping camper nuts, overflow a sink, drops of water have been used to torture people! Drops of water over time can corrupt, destroy & maim. My poor brain has said ENOUGH! I am done! I am truly sick (my throat is starting to hurt) & tired (I dream of sleep even when I am sleeping!) of these messages, drip, drip, drip, drip! I should do this & that. Vote yes or no, good or bad, black or white or grey, up or down, gay or straight, dog or cat, atheist or religion, hot or cold, stupid or smart, milk or juice, run or hide, meat or veggies....ARRRGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!
  
  No more. No more. I need to think for myself. And the way I need to do this is turn off the damn t.v, computer, radio, burn the newspaper, magazines & newsletters. Quiet. I need quiet from the world. I want to scream "shut the f up!" from my roof top (although that would confirm to my neighbors I'm nuts. I'd hate to see that happen!) Just...be...quiet. Life is filled with so much background noise I can't think straight!
  
  So I combat this crappy noise with my one great super power....NAP. Almost everyday I take a nap w/ my daughter. She & I curl up in bed with a good book ( a book I've read over & over again Oye!) I wrap her up in her blanket, She sucks her nap time paci (yeah, she's 3, shut up!) She tangles her fingers in my hair. We sleep.
  
  Here in Sleep, politicians can't yell at me, schools can't beg me for money, special interest groups can't con me. Here in Sleep I bury my head in the sand. I save myself from the drops of water that slowly eat away at my brain & heart & soul. Some say I'm lazy, Some shake their finger at me & say "you have a duty to keep up on world events", some are disappointed in me. To that I say. "You all want your voice to be heard, I understand that. I want to be heard too, but no one can hear me over this constant din of noise y'all have created. So I raise my voice & raise it & raise it, until I then discover... I have no voice left. I have screamed so long & so hard that over time I have become muted. This was your plan the whole time. To silence me. To over power me with your screeching "here me now, but I don't have to listen to you." demands. My voice is resting. Its not totally gone. One day, I will be back to quietly push my causes. Silently ...I will kick your a$$."
  
  Until that time, I nap with my daughter. Her fingers tangled in my hair. I go to a better place inside of myself. A quiet place of understanding. A place I can hear my OWN thoughts. I recharge & reclaim. I sleep.
  
  
  

Warning, you will be drugged, raped, killed, raised from the dead. Have a nice day!

Women! There are bad men waiting for you to walk out of your house, car, shopping mall, gas station, strip joint, school so they can drug, rape, stab, gas, kidnap, kill you. You must be warned! Please go home & wrap yourself in a bubble wrap blanket, call the cops & cower in the corner!

Can someone please tell me what year it is. 1999? 1899? 2001? Oh....wait....I think it's 2008. Yep, it's 2008. In 1992 the World-Wide Web was released by CERN. So children, the Internet has been in the homes for 16 YEARS. SIXTEEN YEARS!!!! Around that time the email was created for use in the home (actually Email is much older than the Internet. It was never invented; it evolved from very simple beginnings & by 1974 there were hundreds of military users of email) If the Internet & email have been around for all those years....pray tell, why people still send me hoax's, lies, stories & false warnings?! Seriously, why does this happen? If you are a new Internet user, I'll cut ya some slack. But there is no excuse for well seasoned Internet-ers to be forwarding, pasting, linking me to stupid stories.

Now don't get me wrong, 90% of the time, I actually like getting those silly emails with undisclosed addressed attached to them. Because I take it upon myself to actually do the leg work to find out what is true & what is false. If the story is true I say "wow, that's neat!" & promptly move on with my life. If it is false (which 99.9% of the time it is) I then will hit REPLY ALL & school ya' ll on the history of superstitions, tall tails & outright lies!

Now, I NEVER forward a story if it is not true. I always check my facts first. That's what a good detective does (Nancy Drew to the rescue!) Checking facts can be daunting, I know. But if you want to save the world, you have to put a little elbow grease into it. So now you ask "Oh, Wise one, how can I check my facts & rid the world of heinous, bogus email chains, forward warnings, stories & other assorted crap?" Have no fear young one, I shall take you step by step through the rigorous work of fact checking.

#1 Go to the bathroom & get a snack...this can take awhile.
#2 Turn on your computer
#3 Now comes the hard part...type in http://www.snopes.com/ in your search engine. If you don't know what a search engine is, then you need to step away from the computer & take a computer class at your local pre-school!
#4 Really hard part now...ready? Type in the main words to the story into the little box that says SEARCH. The Pink, Fluffy Bunny Gasser or Toenail Clipping Clipper or Boob Pinching Escaped Zoo Turtle...you get the picture. If I have lost you, see #3.
#5 Sit & wait 1.4 seconds for the program to do all the work for you.
#6 As you wait 1.4 seconds feel free to take a bite of your snack.
#7 Wipe hands, you don't want crumbs gumming up your computer keys.
#8 Now find the story that matched the email you got.
#9 READ IT.


Congratulations, you just graduated from Corn Fed Girl's school for computer fact finding! This fact checking can take any where from 10 seconds to 5 minute depending how fast your computer works. Isn't 5 minutes of your time worth it? Now you can either enjoy the safety tip or you can call out all your friends who just proved they are too lazy to fact check or are fear mongers! Awesome!

Isn't this "Internet" thing neat?! You can learn so much & it's pretty easy to do. So pass on the wisdom, stop the irrational fear & enjoy your day! Oh yeah, If your wondering how I got so smart about the history of the Internet, you need to know I was born w/ a gift. A gift of Internet searching. Really, you should try it. You can learn about anything on this thing. Great invention! I give it a thumbs up!

One more rant. Do you notice that most of the Internet hoax's are aimed towards women? We love women as victims don't we?! Think about that for a minute. Tell me why you think that is. I have my own theories, but I'm tired of listening to the voice in my head.

Well, I'm off to enjoy my day. I'll probably go shopping w/ my high back work boots on (no Achilles slashing for me!) Gloves ( wouldn't want to touch that poisoned paper!), gas mask (I don't want to smell free perfume samples thank you very much!),Glasses (I'd hate to get squirted in the eye by a fake flower filled w/ death poison). I'll ride my bike so no one can hide in my back seat as I take that suspicious paper off my windshield. But wait...then I'll be targeted by a man who can't put his groceries in his trunk. Aw geezzz, I better bring my knife so I can cut my ties as I'm stuffed into that trunk. Oh forget it! I'm staying home! But I won't answer the door or the phone or open the window or flush the toilet or eat that coffee cake my neighbor gave me or breath.

The Fix

It was a good day for a fix. Sun was shining, a soft breeze-a-blow'n. Very fine day indeed. I had heard about the "product" through the grapevine. Peeps told me it was good, it was life giving, soul stretching. I was hesitant to partake. I didn't want to get addicted especially in this financial climate. I knew I could get hooked fast. Then I would need it. All.. the.. time. I envisioned my pocket book drained,my children crying, begging me to stop.

I told myself I wouldn't let "it" have power over me. I would rule my addictions, the addictions would not rule me! But still, I had to have a taste. Test my boundaries, push my limits. Live on the edge.

As I walked up to the pick up point, the smell in the air smacked me in the face. I could hear the wind tell me to turn back, I would not be strong enough. I sucked that smell into my brain & pushed through the crowd. "I can do this" I chanted in my head. I refused to listen to that wind. Wind don't got not'n on me!

As I walked, I saw "her". The Pusher. I locked eyes w/ the beast. Oh yes, she was a beast! I could see the danger lurking under her soft, light brown hair, round brown eyes, & soft shoulders. She didn't fool me! She looked sweet almost saintly on the outside, but I knew on the inside...... she was a cold, blackened spirit. We stood facing each other. Our eyes never blinking. I wasn't scared "Bring it beeyach!"

She offered me samples...thinking she could lure me into her twisted world. Her big eyes blinking innocently (or blinking because of the flies of death zipping around her head!) "I can do this...live on the edge Baby!" I sang in my head as I reached for her poison.

I will have you know, I sampled.... oh yes...I sampled. I took again & again. My veins screamed for mercy but her poison was too much for me. The wind mocked me! My head screamed! I was out of my mind, crazed... CRAZED! I grabbed 3 baggies & a brick of the stuff. My body was now in control, my mind was lost. Soon, my Pusher had drained my pocket book. I lost. I lost the battle.

Days are now spent w/ me crouched in a corner w/ my fingers picking out the devil candy from the baggie. I dream of the stuff. I hear it talk to me, begging me to let it relieve my aches & pains. The curds of hell squeaking in my teeth, melting on my tongue, seeping into my blood. I am lost.

The "Pusher"

Her eyes can't hide the Beast inside!

She recruits her minions young. This one is only a week old. Sick.

My down fall. Natural Cheddar Cheese (won 1st. place in the state fair, Pure evil) Bacon Horseradish Garlic Cheddar, Tomato Basil Garlic & Smoked Gouda

Yeah, sure, Devil Cow sure looks cute on that label. She's still a DEVIL COW! Curse you Ropp Jersey Cheese Makers! You hooked another soul! Even my children are hooked! Good Gourd people...CHILDREN?!!!!!

The "I'm so grateful" post

It's Sunday, yeah, raaa. So now is the perfect time to blog about all my many blessings.

First I must tell you, I am a realist. My thoughts are realistic, not pessimistic. All those sunny, happy, positive people say I'm opposite from them. That I'm a "pessimist". They are wrong & they can all blow their sing-songy optimism out their back side. I'm sure they are all happy to know that even I, "the realist" will take a moment out of my Sunday to think of something wayyyyy positive to write. The reality is we are going to hell in a hand basket. Oh wait....positive.....grateful.....not reality. OK lets try again.

My grateful thought for this day is...................I am grateful that the windows were closed today as I yelled at my darling children.

The neighbors behind me are lovely people. Both parents are highly educated. The Dad works as a professor at the local college. They have 2 children. I never hear them...ever. They speak softly & kindly all the time. My house on the other hand is so loud you'd think we were on fire everyday. We both usually have our windows open. I am horrified when I walk my dog or go out to the weedy patch I like to call a garden & I hear EVERYTHING. My family doesn't have to be yelling for the sound to travel outside. Many times at night, I shut some of the windows & it hits me..."how loud did I yell today & were the neighbors home?" (pretty sad that I have to ask myself HOW many times did I yell instead of DID I yell today)

Yep, Hell is a knock'n.

Neo Speaks Politics!

Neo is pissed! He is sick & tired of stupid politicians doing stupid things! His little furry brain will explode.

Neo was torn about who to vote for in November...now he is not. Neo speaks! If he votes for Obama...we are screwed. If he votes for McCain...we are screwed. We're screwed.

This concludes Neo Speaks Politics for today. Neo is going to now bury his head in his wood shavings.

Words would simply get in the way...

"Chicken Pops"

Let's play a game! "Yeah, we love games!" (only a sick person can make up an imaginary audience) The game is called NAME THATTTTT RASHHHHHHH.

Two nights ago I get my almost 3 year old ready for bed & find these












Now before ya get all excited thinking I'm so lucky that she has chicken pox, I must tell you that these have not spread. There are about 3 on her arm & then this splotchy on her back. So are they or are they not?

My daughter thinks she looks great. Looking at herself this way & that in the mirror. " I have chicken pops Mommy?"

Stay tuned...lets hope these babies blister then crust over. Come onnnnnn chicken pops!

Behold my Super-Ubber-Awesome-ness!

For those of you who need inspiration, this post is for you. Sit back & bask in my wicked greatness! Gather all the great things you learn from me & put it in a little "to do" book.
Now I must warn you....if any of you feel defeated or depressed at your lack of motherhood greatness...STOP READING. Really, it will only make your depression worse. Please know that one day, after much prayer & Zoloft you will be able to get back on that motherhood horse & ride it. Ride it hard. But for now, don't make your life any more painful by viewing my post.

And now, back to The GREAT 12th. BIRTHDAY PARTY EVENT OF 2008!
My first born has turned 12! For birthdays we go ALL out. We have a family birthday party at their restaurant of choice (as long as its cheap) and they can order whatever they want (as long as it's cheap) So my son chose Logan's Roadhouse. It's a great restaurant that's serves the greatest hot, soft, buttery buns. Oh so good. We made sure everyone ate at least 4 before ordering. That way they will fill up on free rolls & not order much or better yet, share!
After dinner we head back home to a cookie cake & gifts.

The kids always look forward to their "friend party". This is my chance to shine & show my kids how much I really love them. Because we all know that wicked great party = love!
My boy had 4 of his friends over (I like small parties, because lets face it...kids are loud & I don't do loud) They had fun playing Ghost in the Grave yard (note to pet owners...clean up the dog crap before outside games) and Hide & Seek. Serious side note As parents we like to think that kids are older then they appear. But 12 year old boys are still BOYS, children. We didn't turn anything electronic on all night. It was great to see these boys be children (well I didn't enjoy all the screaming & running & screaming) Left to their own imaginations, they thrive, cooperate & have fun. TURN OFF THE ELECTRONICS! End of serious note

I love pictures so I documented all my knarley party throwing abilities. I think you'll be impressed & awed!


DECORATIONS. I think the sparse, utilitarian look is what all the hip 12 year old boys dig these days. Check it out! That's all the decorating I did...its not too much is it? Not over the top? Some times I get a little crazed w/ the streamers. I actually did his chair on his birthday....10 days before the party.












THE CAKE I wish I could say I did that on purpose to be funny...but I didn't. Stupid, broken brain! It took me a good 4 minutes to figure out why it didn't look right. "DERRRRR"










THE CLEAN UP. Note the lopsided cake. NEAT! Its like the Leaning Tower of CRAP.

MUCH BETTER. Note the added flare. All you do is write out the letters in frosting then put a big fat dot at all the ends. It covers up the craptastic lettering, makes it look cleaned up.

THE FOOD. Why cook when you can stand in line for 15 minutes at a restaurant across the street from 2 major colleges on Homecoming Weekend to pick up THE GONDOLA. Behold its tastiness! The Gondola is a Midwest, college staple. So lovely.

So we had the decorations, the cake, the GONDOLAS, chips & pop. The kids barely ate a thing (hey, leftovers, sweet!) The played & riped open gifts, played w/ gifts, ran the neighborhood in the dark & screamed.

My boy thought it was awesome & that's all that matters.

Que the song "Lowered ex-pec-taaaaaationssssss" fade out.

My Talent #1 Organization

Awwwww Yeaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!
Please don't be jealous. You too can achieve this look in 3 easy steps!
#1 Be in a rush
#2 Start chuck'n
#3 Close door...your work will magically reproduce over night! Awesome!


My husband is worried. He says I should hang out more w/ a friend of mine who is an organizational genius. She spanks clutter like a call girl on crack! Now she.... has pure talent! I don't know if I'm ready to learn from her. I've worked hard on my organizational skills. Besides.....I might find 1 of my missing pets under that pile. I don't have time to feed another mouth!

Nothing makes me gag faster then a syrupy declaration about how fabulous ones life is. Can life be good...of course it can. Especially if you add naps & chocolate chip cookies to the mix. But for some of us (dare I say most of us) life is like dredging through the muck of broke faith, heartbreak & indigestion. The goal in life is to turn your face towards the sun & hope it will warm your blood just enough to loosen that thick glob of depression, to propel you off the couch & catapult you into doing something (anything!) good.

Or we can sit back & realise other people suck more then you do. Immature? Well duh. Satisfying...hellya!

So here's to you Misses crochet-your-children's-shoes-out-of-homemade-paper- w/ sprinkles! We are sick of you & your false sense of all is well. You are a liar! We are on to you! We say, no more! No more guilt! No more jealousy! We will embrace our mediocre life, our angry outbursts & our leaky gut syndrome! But we will be big girls & try (when we are heavily drugged) to see the beauty in your absurd crafts, happy handwriting & Joker-esc smiles. We are willing to learn from you. We will take what works for us & leave the rest. Do you dare learn from us?

Show me your talents & I'll show you mine!

Big steaming piles of crap

I have been reading books to my kiddos ever since they were wee little tad poles. The youngest 2 children get to have a book read to them by Mommy & Daddy...IF Mommy & Daddy are in a good, sober mood. For the most part...we are a reading family.

Tonight I was reading Clifford, the Big Red Dog to my 5 year old. As I was reading about Clifford, the freak of nature that grew from a cute tiny, dying puppy to an overgrown red ball of stinking fur, I got to thinking.....who gets the job of picking up Clifford's steaming pile of dog crap day after day? And where does that poo go?

Just wondering.

My mom loved me, I think

For the love that is holy! Why would my mother allow me to look like that?! Really, did she love me? Was she on drugs? Wanting a boy? I just don't get it. My mom was a fashionable lady. She was into matching pant suits & accessories. She had a full face of caked on make-up the moment she got up....so what the hell happened?!

This lovely train wreck of a picture was taken when I was in 4th grade. My teacher was Satan. He loved to ridicule me (gee, I see it wouldn't be that HARD!) I could tell you stories! But right now I'm still convulsing w/ memories of bad hair & big teeth!

Drunk Monkey

I started a blog....Good heavens, I just lost what little respect I have for myself.

I see blogging as a waste of time, annoying & self congratulating. Now, if you blog to help friends & family keep in touch...well then it is a great tool. I'm not blogging to have my friends or family read this. In fact ,I'm hiding from my friends & family!

So why am I blogging? I'm blogging because I'm a fool! I believe anyone can write. It's not that hard. A drunk, burning monkey can write. With that said, writing well takes talent. Writing that makes sense & makes you float away into another life, another experience, takes ubber talent. I, my friends...am a drunk, burning monkey. See me scream as my fur burns!

I am not a writer, far from it. I know I'm not that good at it. I just vomit up what I think. (ummmm delicious!) I actually have a learning disability....is that what they are calling it these days? I think they would call me learning challenged or creative thinker today. This PC sh!* is killing us! Anyway....I like to use my broken brain as an excuse. I can't write..brain, I can't make change...Stupid brain. I sit on my butt most days....dam# brain. Its great! I fit right in w/ this society! Blame other people or other things for your foolishness. I am soooo awesome!

A fabulous friend said writing on her blog helps her vent her frustrations, relieves a little of that built up pressure. I think she is loaded w/ crap....but I am willing to give it a try. The Religion encourages us to keep a journal. Write about happy things, sad things, write about your wayyyy awesome blessings, write for your children's children to know you. Screw that...I want to vent!As for what I am blogging about. It will be about what I please I'll blog about family, motherhood, boobs, The Religion....The Religion, always there, begging me to face it. Maybe writing about It will help me understand The Religion & my place in it. Maybe.But for the most part, I'll write because this little burning monkey wants to. Burn monkey Burn!