Saturday, December 30

Pay Per Post/ HP --what a hoot!

Click on the box to go watch this video!

So there is a site, PayPerPost, that will drop a little cash into your PayPal account if you blog about selected topics. REALLY? Because you have probably noticed by now, that I'll talk about just about anything.

Then I got to thinking. It went a little something like this:

No you won't, you big chicken, If they want you to write about hemorrhoid cream, you are going to starve before you type out anything of the kind. You're no Kevin Charnas, able to tackle any topic without fear, and, dare I say, with Gusto.

But then I went to the site, and the video is a hoot! I want the Postie Patrol to come for ME! We could have a three way competition for fabulous prizes, me, Kim, and Bananas! If they show up at my work, I guarantee, it will be ON, and it would be on for prizes far less spectacular than the ones Robyn competed for in the video!

I don't know that I will be able to support my family based upon my future PayPerPost earnings. We'll have to see what kinds of things they have. But If Little O gets a book from Amazon, or Big O gets a hoodie sweatshirt to replace the forty-ninth one lost this year (what is it with that boy and outerwear?), how very cool!

I think this is just a riot. Where are the jobs that let you go out and get people into scavenger hunts? I don't know if I want to work for HP, or PayPerPost, or some demonically clever marketing firm, but this is the kind of thing I adore. I excel at goofball enthusiasm. "CATFEEEESH!" is going to be incorporated into life at work, I guarantee you!

HP wants me to make clear that this post is brought to you by HP.
Digital Photo Printing
They also wanted me to include their link to all of their toys.

Is it so very wrong to adore this idea? Is it just further proof that I love cheesy marketing? You, my four loyal readers, will have to tell me if I am outta my gourd.

So Now Iraq does it better that we do?

How long has Polly Klaas been gone? Laci Peterson? Why are those bastards still alive, and on OUR dime, but Iraq can take care of Saddam within 30 days? Hell, they didn't even need the full thirty! If we cleared out death row in California once a year, how much money could we spend on education? Could we make crazy Sherriff Joe in Arizona the head of prisons nationwide?
I will grant you that DNA testing should never be denied a prisoner on death row. But twenty years of appeals is ridiculous.
I do not doubt that Stanley "Tookie" Williams was a better man when he died than when he was sentenced. Age usually makes you a little wiser. But the men he killed were denied the chance to age and wise up, and he was sentenced to death. I found it wierd that because he had a publisher and famous friends, people suddenly thought his sentence should have been commuted. He did a lot of good in his later years. But he did a lot more bad in his early years.
I dunno. I would certainly never claim that there is ANY easy answer in death penalty cases. But it seems like the courts of Iraq took care of business a lot beter than we do. (Yes, I know, he was a dictator that killed millions, and maybe that sped things up, but still. Richard Allen Davis snatched Polly out of her own bedroom. Why is he still here?)


This concludes the conservative rant from the side of Jen that screws up all of those "Are you a Tree-Hugging Liberal?" quizzes.

Thursday, December 28

I think I need out of customer service.

I just had a man call and he got everything that I told him wrong.
His mother was hysterical when she got on the phone thinking we weren't going to service them until next week. I said, no, that's not at all what I said.
Well, my son is mental and doesn't understand things.

And I know better--but...

I said, Then why would you have him call?

We finished the phone call, I got her straightened out about her service, and I got a ten minute lecture about how hurtful it was of me to have said that. Knowing that I was in the wrong, I refrained from asking her if it wasn't HURTFUL to put her son in a position that he is unable to handle, and then tell everyone that he is "mental"???????????????

She is evil and ignorant, and now I feel evil and ignorant.

Saturday, December 23

It's a ten minute testing frenzy!!!!!

I think some of these are a little off...but I was sweatin' thinkin I was gonna be Elizabeth Taylor (Not that there's anything wrong with that)!

What Classic Bombshell Are You?
Audrey Hepburn

You are Audrey Hepburn! You are the epitome of class. You are elegant and regal. You love to express yourself in many ways, including dance. You also love helping people.

Take this test

My girl Jen sent me a BOX full of good homemade Christmas treats, but since they all have nuts, I have to eat them up before the Honey gets home. Shush, Jennifer. There were NO caramels. Do you hear me? They didn't make it in the box. (note to self--get rid of the caramel wrappers)

We now resume our Quizzing freefall:

You Date Like a Woman

According to studies on dating, you date like a woman.
You tend to take romance seriously, and you're not really out for a fling.

A mental and emotional connection always comes first for you.
And rushing the physical stuff is likely to turn you off.

You're highly selective when it comes to dating, and some may say you're too picky.
You know what you want, and when you find it, you're ready to commit.

This one was so off base, I may have to give up blogthings all together. Is all of this based upon sense of humor vs. a great ass? Not at all correct.

You Are Pretty Logical
You're a bit of a wizard when it comes to logicWhile you don't have perfect logic, you logic is pretty darn good. Keep at it - you've got a lot of natural talent in this area!

Okay, Blogthings can stay.

'What will your obituary say?' at

But this Quizgalaxy stuff....Now I'm Camilla Parker Bowles?
I stole this one from CRSE at Zamphir.

Here's What Jennfactor Will Get for Christmas!
The Honey will get you a pony.
Big O will get you socks and underwear.
Little O will get you a shiny new car.
Santa will get you five pounds of cheese.
Satan will get you Francis Bacon's Left Femur.
'What Will you Get for Christmas?' at

Friday, December 22

My Christmas Gift to Myself...

Let me be frank, the radio stations in my town suck donkey.

The station that we found tolerable changed formats, and while they didn't SCRAP the old tunes, they cut the number of songs down by half, and incorporated a little more of the MTV vibe than was there before. So as we listen at work, it's really the same fourteen songs, played over and over again. To add insult to injury, now we only like six out of the fourteen songs, anyway---ARGH!!!!!!

In a desperation move, we went to AM.

Woo HOO! We have the most AWESOME station, 1420 KSTN. They played James Brown and AC/DC in the same hour. Funkytown and the remake of Don Henley's Boys of summer--four freaking decades of good tunes.

We agree that not all of the songs are songs that we like, but you know what? We can live with it, knowing that we won't hear that song again for weeks--instead of twenty minutes from now. Bre and I keep exclaiming to each other--The original "wild thing" just came on. Yesterday they played three in a row from Puddle of Mudd.

We are going to write epic letters gratitude and praise that a station like this exists anywhere, let alone on the AM band. I am telling everyone I know.

The DJ's shut the hell up and play music, not a lot of commercials, it's AWESOME!!!!!!

Okay, they play the obnoxious Mancow radio show in the mornings, but that's how we know we're not dreaming!!!


My phone line at the house is all jacked up, so e-mail posting from work is the only option right now. sigh.


My girls, Jen and Bre, are my Christmas angels this year. I guess technically it's Jen and BooBoo, Bre's dog. But I would like to say in this very public forum how much I love and appreciate you both and your Xmas generosity. You guys made me cry in a good way.

Wednesday, December 20

Wednesday Hero

Sgt. Roy A. Wood
Sgt. Roy A. Wood
47 years old from Alva, Florida
ODA 2092, Company C, 3rd Battalion, 20th Special Forces Group (Airborne)
January 26, 2005

Sgt. Roy A. Wood, a Special Forces medical sergeant, was fatally injured when the vehicle he was riding in was involved in a traffic accident near Kabul, Afghanistan, during a return convoy from Qalat to Bagram Air Base.

His 24-year military career with the Army Reserve and Army National Guard was distinguished and unique. After receiving a commission as a second lieutenant in 1979, he was first assigned to the Army Reserve’s 421st Quartermaster Company (Light Airdrop Supply).

While assigned to the 421st, he received training as a quartermaster officer, a parachute rigger, and participated in both basic airborne and jumpmaster courses.

In January 1982, he left the 421st to begin an association with U.S. Army Special Forces that would last until, and beyond, his death.

His first SF assignment was to the Army Reserve's 11th Special Forces Group (Airborne) at Fort Meade, Md., where he served in the 3rd Battalion’s Company A as the detachment executive officer for Operational Detachment-A 1175.

In May 1983, he became Detachment Commander for ODA 1175 after returning from the Special Forces Detachment Officer Qualification Course.

In October 1984, he left ODA 1175 to become the Company Logistics Officer.

He served in a variety of positions at the 11th SFG over the next 11 years, including operations officer and support company commander.

After four years at USSOCOM, he served a year with the Army Reserve’s 73rd Field Hospital in St. Petersburg, Fla., before switching from the Reserve to the Army National Guard and renewing his association with Special Forces.

He was assigned to 3rd Bn., 20th SFG in December 2001, where he served for a year as the Battalion Surgeon, supervising medical coverage of three Special Forces companies and one support company.

In December 2002, he resigned his commission to become a Special Forces medical sergeant on Operational Detachment-A 2092, Co. C, 3rd Bn., 20th SFG.

He, with ODA 2092, was mobilized in July 2003 in support of Operation Enduring Freedom.

At the time of his death, he was pending appointment as a Special Forces warrant officer, a position in which he would have served his team as an assistant detachment commander.

During his service, he received the Army Commendation Medal, the Army Achievement Medal, the Army Reserve Achievement Medal with Silver Hourglass device, the National Defense Service Medal, the Army Service Ribbon, the Basic Parachutist badge, the Parachute Rigger badge, the Ranger tab and the Special Forces tab.

Sgt. Roy Wood leaves behind a wife and two children.

These brave men and women have given their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Have Every Right To Dream Heroic Dreams.
Those Who Say That We're In A Time When There Are No Heroes, They Just Don't Know Where To Look

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. If you would like to participate in honoring the brave men and women who serve this great country, you can find out how by clicking here.

Blogs Partcipating In Wednesday Hero

Right-Wing & Right Minded
Hooah Wife & Friends
Yankee Mom
Bear Creek Ledger
Mail Call! Supporting The Troops
Yeah, Right, Whatever
Gazing At The Flag
Ohio Military Reserve
DeMediacratic Nation
My Point
A Day In The Life Of.....
Blue Star Chronicles
Pet's Garden Blog
Pictures From My World
Freedom, GUNZ, Glory and EBYJO
Gunz Up
Say No To Politically Correct B.S.
Did You Ever Get The Feeling
A Rose By Any Other Name
My Weekly Thoughts
Rightwing Guy
Trying My Best To Support The Troops
American And Proud
Not Ready For My Burqua
Perry Nelson's Website
A Fresh Start
Right On!
Conservative Cowboy
Tanker Brothers
Soldiers' Angels New York
My Republican Blog

Sgt. Wood, a Father and a Husband, someone's Son, someone's best friend--has been dead for almost two years. How much have your children grown and changed in the last two years? How different is your life now? I say again that regardless of your politics, or your opinions on this war, anyone serving in our military deserves gratitude and boundless support. The names of the fallen should be read at every big league sporting event, every stupid awards show, and each and every day. Not in protest of the war, not in support of the war--in Remembrance. These men and women have died serving our country, and their names should be remembered. Our soldiers and their families should know that we do not forget their sacrifices.

Tuesday, December 19

WTF Tuesday

I'll have to come up with a new name for it, because WTF Weds and the Weds hero posts seem at odds.

It's the golden rule, people. Treat others as you would like to be treated. Don't comment mysteriously and then refuse to post your profile so others can read YOUR blog. Even better, don't use MY blog to comment when a friend has to enable the moderate feature to keep you in check.

I don't know if it's a lack of cojones, a lack of courtesy, or a lack of common sense. But Play Nice!
My plate seems so full of holiday-ey things right now, I'm sorry bloggy friends. I have to tune into real life for a bit, but I'll be back! (And not in a schwarzenneger sort of way)

Thursday, December 14

I, too, have my doubts about this, but I am a lemming.

The deal?

1) Harken back to your archives.
2) Collect the first sentence you wrote every month for the whole year.
3) Entertain us

06/06: How I've been conned into blogging when I am the world's worst typist, I'll never know...bear with me!
07/06: I am soo broke, and really want a good book right now.
08/06: You know the one... he's got his own personal foible that is so distinctive it's become his moniker?
09/06: I WANT a pretty new blog.
10/06: Carolee Wallis was my mother-in-law.
11/06: So happy halloween. yeah. whatever.
12/06: So you know that I work as a Customer Service rep for the garbage company.

Copied, as ever, from the lovely CRSE at Zamphir Panflutemaster. She had me at Zamphir.

I have soooo got to stop using the word so. Must find bad 80's hair photo for the contest going on at Great Lakes State Of Mind. So far have found some awful 80's glasses photos that were almost enough to have the Honey* sleeping on the couch, but no good hair photos.

*note to future generations: When your woman shows you awful photos from her past, don't start cappin' on her like she's one of your drinking buddies--it will not end well, motherf*cker.

Saturday, December 9

I am so going to burn in a lake of fire....

A few weeks ago I called home to talk to Big O. I left a message for him. You must understand that I have inherited a cheesy fake Russian accent from my father. So I called out on the answering machine,
"O-Dog O-dogovitch, this is your mother--Answer the phone, O-dog. Odog O-Dogovitch, call your mother."
As I was listening to messages the other day, this one played and Little O turns to me with her nose wrinkled, and asks, "Mama, why did you call Big O a little bitch?"


Last night my journey to the netherworld was sealed. Little O was at Mama Dina's while we were at the Xmas party. When we went to pick her up, she had three little dolls, two girls and a boy, and she walked me through endless love triangle combinations: Belle and Ariel fighting over Beast, Fighting over Prince Eric, See them dancing? Now the mean girl pushes the nice girl...Now they are fighting over Jesus Crust, and then they are all going to have ice cream...I tuned back in at that point.
"I'm sorry , Little O, what was the boy's name?"
"This is Jesus Crust."
"Er, and what is he doing?"
"He's dancing with Ariel, but Belle is mad because she wants to dance with him."

I was torn. Do I correct her on the pronunciation? Do I explain that he's not generally involved in love triangles?

I am so going to burn.

The Garbagettes Survived!

Okay, it wasn't that bad.

I did get up and sing, we did get up and dance.

The Uber Boss wanted a cheesy name for us, and decided on the Garbagettes--and Bill. My personal favorite was "Bill and the Solid Waste Dancers!" but UB wasn't feeling very Marilyn McCoo--Wasn't that her name? Bre brought Chanpagne, and I had already begun using my drink tickets, so I was, ahem, lubed up by showtime.

Our Christmas party is held each year on an old ferryboat that is permanently docked in the delta. The trick is that it was a working ferry back in the day, so it is divided down the middle, with long corridor for cars on either side. So all of the dinner party is held on one side of the boat, and the dancing is on the empty side. But all night long, the boat tilts to the south, the side the tables are on.

Get yourself some spiky heeled shoes, add several drinks (I tried to get them to choreograph it with a drink in my hand factored in, but they weren't going for it), and then add the subtle tug of gravity sucking you down to the left.

Actually, no one went down, but I guess they couldn't hear us over the music. Whatcha gonna do?

But the party was nice, the food was good, and the prizes were fabulous-even if I didn't win them. He had six Ipod shuffles, a new Xbox 360, two digital cameras, two DVD players, a kareoke machine, and then the items that UB puts in for fun... He had a Superman doll, and a battery operated nosehair trimmer. Oh, and did I mention the envelopes?

UB loves to torture the winners by offering them the gift, or what's in one of the envelopes. Let me give you some examples--Several years ago a girlfriend of mine traded a huge gas BBQ set-up for an envelope, and got twelve dozen Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. ouch. This year, there were no doughnuts, but he had Envelopes, and he had giftcards. We knew the giftcards were fifty bucks. Two of the envelopes contained a certificate for eighty hours pay. One of the giftcards kept getting passed up, and he started writing down the names of who passed on it. Two people passed, then someone finally took it. Yay! It was someone I know!

One hundred and twenty hours AND the standard fifty dollar gift card. I did not get picked, but at least the woman who won this one deserves it, and I hope she takes herself on a vacation with it, instead of spending it all on her grandbabies. (Are you reading this, Bananas?!?!?!)

The cash pot was not mine, either. We bought tickets for two bucks apiece, and it was up to eleven hundred and seventy. UB took a vote and drew two winners who split the pot. sigh. I had sugarplums dancing in my head, let me tell you.

Next year...

Thursday, December 7

Thursday Thirteen # 21-Highs and Lows of this week.

Thirteen Highs and Lows that are part of the Rollercoaster of life!

1. HIGH: I am poor. How is that a high? I have spent all week trying to come up with a list of charities and ideas for giving back for my TT, and it's not finished, so this isn't it. But I realized once again that while I am cash-poor, I am not soul wrenching, wishing my kids could eat poor, and so I am grateful to be only poor.

2. low: My clutch went out on me at lunch, and it was just the straw that broke the camel's back. I limped my car back to work in first gear, and promptly bawled like a baby in front of customers and co-workers alike. (I LOATHE public displays)

3. HIGH: The Honey grabbed a mechanic from work, and came riding to the rescue. It turns out my car, while a stick shift, has a hydraulic clutch, which requires some witches brew of oily goop. Once Pedro (Love ya, Pedro) got some witches brew into the resivoir, it was like it never happened. Except for the hysterical sobbing and cries of anguish that my poor co-workers had to endure. (Okay, I may be overstating it a bit, but I.Never.Cry.)

4. low: Rent is still due.

5. High: The company Christmas Party is this Friday, and we always have fun. Our boss is outstanding and there are prizes to win, good food to eat...No rubber chicken here!

6. low: We are often a dysfunctional little family at work, and so I will recite CRSE's Holiday Survival Guide tips and tricks for getting through the night. I especially like the Laughing out loud waaay to long and then saying "I can't believe you actually said that out loud." and then walking away.

7. HIGH: I was nominally on the committee to help out on the par-tay, and we usually get a bonus gift--yay!

8. low: In my geeky fervor to be helpful, I suggested to the girl who usually sings a solo but wasn't too hot to do it this year, that she should get some help! Sing something funny, and get a bunch of your girls up there to do it with you!
Oh, dear Dog, I've been drafted to sing, too.

9. HIGH: They liked the altered version of R_E_S_P_E_C_T by Aretha that Bre and I came up with, so if it's cheesy, at least it'll be OUR cheese.

10: low: They have flippin' choreographed the damned thing three days before we do it, and have added such charming moves as a booty shaking, hip pumping thing and lots of jumping back and forth. Have we met? Have you met my chest? Well, you may get an intro before that little routine finishes. Bre consoles me with the thought that there's always that kid at the recital. I asked her, the one who's picking his nose on camera? she said, well, I was thinking the one who can't dance, but okay. You can just be THAT kid. If I'm not that kid, I'll be the chick that fell out of her dress at the Christmas party. I could put an eye out, people. It's my very best waking nightmare. Oh, and I can't sing.

11. HIGH: My Wednesday Hero post went up this week, and I was pleased with the way it turned out.

12. low: Berta, a girl who used to work with us, went home at lunch and the apartment next door to her house had burned down. The single mom and her 5 year old daughter were standing outside in shock with nothing but their pajamas. Berta sent out an email asking for clothes.

13: HIGH: The mom wears my size! So I have a whole box of things I can get to her tomorrow. These have been some emotionally draining luch hours!

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

Gimme Some of that Linky Lovin'!

Wednesday, December 6

Wednesday Hero

SFC. Paul Ray Smith
33 years old from Tampa, FloridaBravo Company, 11th Engineer Battalion, 1st Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division
April 4, 2003
When you think of the word Hero, SFC. Paul Smith is the person you think about.
On April 4, 2003, Smith was setting up a temporary enemy prisoner of war holding area during the seizure of Saddam International Airport when his unit came under attack.Smith kept his soldiers focused during the fight while engaging the Iraqi force of around 100 men with his M16, a hand grenade and an AT4 anti-armor weapon.Smith tossed a grenade over a wall then he climbed atop the armored vehicle. Disregarding personal danger, he sprayed the attacking troops with .50-caliber machine gun fire. According to the Army, he told a soldier who accompanied him to "feed me ammunition whenever you hear the gun get quiet." He fired more than 300 rounds at the enemy before being mortally wounded himself.For his action on that day, SFC. Smith was posthumously awarded the Medal Of Honor by President Bush,becoming only the 3,459 serviceman to be awarded the honor since the Civil War.His "conspicuous gallantry, above and beyond the call of duty," according to his citation, protected the soldiers in his platoon as well as other troops at an aid station nearby.

These brave men and women have given their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.

We Have Every Right To Dream Heroic Dreams. Those Who Say That We're In A Time When There Are No Heroes, They Just Don't Know Where To Look.

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll.

If you would like to participate in honoring the brave men and women who serve this great country, you can find out how by clicking here.

Blogs Partcipating In Wednesday Hero

A little side note, a lot of the blogs in this blogroll are as anti-liberal as they come, and I am about as liberal as you can get without a rainbow flag and a cannibus card. But how astounding and sad that this man died in 2003. Three and a half years ago.

I may not agree with the politics of each person on this blogroll, but I heartily agree that each and every person serving in a branch of our (completely voluntary!) military services is a hero. Why aren't these names read at the end of every major league professional sporting event, every newscast, and every award show? Every time.

Sunday, December 3

This really is very true.

Which Sesame Street Muppet's Dark Secret Are You?

Grover on Ecstasy
You're funny, you're loveable, you're entertaining, you like to call yourself "Super Grover!"--You're obviously on ecstasy. But that's why we love you. Be careful, ok?
Take this quiz!

Quizilla |

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

I am so Grover. I stole this from CRSE over at Zamphir.

Saturday, December 2

Am I just evil and jaded?

So you know that I work as a Customer Service rep for the garbage company. I answer phones with the girls, but I also am one of two people who talk to customers when they come into the office. Thankfully, my job does not force me to be the ugly collections agent, demanding to know when you will live up to your obligations. I am here to take whatever payment you can make, and make sure that your service is to your satsfaction.

Over the last few months I have talked to a woman who has not paid her bill in easily ten months. So the last time her bill was due, four months ago, she called to explain that there was a baby in the family that had died, and that she had been the one to care for the infant, so life was a little chaotic. I was sympathetic and told her I'd make a note on her account, and to pay when she could. Not a big deal, but a sad story, and it made me grateful for my healthy children. I noted her account and went on to the next customer.

She actually came in this week, and again told the story, this time with big discliamers that it wasn't HER baby, but that she HAD been the one to care for it. Now I feel like she is trading on this unimaginable tragedy. She peddles this story like it's a get out of payment free card. I've never been through anything as devastating as that would have to be, and I tend to be a private person, but who does that? Am I being a coldhearted bitch? Is it therapeutic to talk about it to strangers? Maybe strangers are the only ones who can stand to hear about it? But it didn't feel like that the SECOND time. It felt like the worst kind of manipulation. Especially after the disclaimer--Oh, not MY baby, but I took care of it.

I felt soiled after talking to her.

Then I felt like a bitch for thinking it.