My Own Dorkfession.

The time:
1980-something.

The place:
Church group camping jamboree-type thing, falling well short of Jesus Camp or whatever show XO was referring to.

The players:
Giddy Dorky middle schooler crushin’ on the junior high boys. Especially Mike, the buddy of my best friend’s older brother Rich. Unfortunately, those boys always ran in threes. The third, Kenny, was the classic loud jerk. When I say classic, I mean that I envision him as one of two things today… Best case scenario, he’s a power trippin cop that likes to demonstrate his chokeholds (and remember, I like the po-lice). Worst case scenario, far more likely in my opinion, he’s cooking meth in a trailer down a red dirt road in Igo. Part of this impression may stem from the early 80’s memory of his golden locks permed into the sweetest mullet you ever saw, complete with comb in his back pocket. Sigh. Sadly, I know the complete contents of his back pockets that day.

The Scene:
The church group structured itself loosely as a scout troop kind of gig. In the morning we would assemble to start our day, standing at attention. Being me, of course I was running late.
The boys were assembled in front of OUR tent. (WTF?) As I scrambled out of the stupid tent to assemble, I forgot the all important three inch lip at the bottom of the tent. I tripped, flailing my arms OUT for support, and somehow ended up momentarily suspended on the diagonal, with my nose buried in Kenny’s Butt--which he then screamed to our entire campsite, as well as the next three campsites.
He acted as if I had been yearning to root around in his ass like a pig looking for truffles.

There it is, one of my defining moments of dorkdom.

Won't you play along?

Bueller?


Anyone?

Read this blog while I am away....

I know I'm always the last one to know, but have you read Crystal over at Boobs, Injuries, and Dr. Pepper?

I've been stalking her for a few months now, and oh, my Dog, this woman is such a natural Dorkblogger. Laughing 'til I cry.

I'll be calling out to you, my bloggy friends, to see if you are going to play the Dorkteenth. But I'll probably not be blogging much, as my Parental Units will be not only in town, but en mi casa. Starting tomorrow! I think I've talked them into staying for at least part of the Brubeck Festival that starts on Weds, as they are big jazz fans.

Big O is going to be crying from all the golf he's about to play with my father. The Honey will be crying about all the golf he WON'T be playing. Damn The Man, and all his wack work-for-pay bullshit, man. There is golf to be played.

Little O and I would like to shop, but I suspect we'll find a housey project. Last time my mother was obsessed with painting my kitchen...
Maybe I can talk her into some curtains or something easy like that. Cinder Grandma also insists on doing the laundry. Which is not as much fun as it sounds. There's a lot of pressure to find MORE stuff for her to wash, when I've only just gotten it stuffed out of sight for their visit...

Bwoooop! Bwooop! Bwooop!

It's almost here.

I'm giddy with anticipation.

It's One Week Away!

Are you going to play?





Bring out yer Dork!
(ding-ding, ding-ding)
Bring out yer Dork!

Shall we open the links early to allow the maximum number of participants? To assuage CRSE's link-related stress? To calm Ash's Friday the Thirteenth fears?

TT #32: I will be the Dork at the Prom. Even the virtual prom.

Mert has turned me on to something glorious.

It's the virtual prom, and it's for a great cause!

My Thursday Thirteen is in honor of the Virtual Prom.

1.This is the story of the Virtual Prom. There's actually a real prom going on, too, but we can buy tickets for the virtual prom and still give to a good cause.

2. Miz Mary Mert psoted about it on her blog and I was hooked.

3. But I was the socially inept classic gawky girl, and never went to a prom. I got brave and asked the nicest, safest boy I knew if he'd go with me to the junior prom, and he turned me down. The fact that he came out two months later made me feel much better.

4. In honor of David T., where ever he may be, here is a photo of my virtual Prom date:

Please note the sylish Manpri pants that my date is wearing. I realize that living with a traditional Mexican male may cloud my perspective here, but I'm thinking this guy has probably made an announcement verrrry similar to David T.'s. Just a hunch.

5. What to wear, what to wear. I am no spring chicken, but nor am I eating my supper at 4:30. Maybe not a traditional PROM dress...something modern...

Please note that this ensemble comes in plus sizes. A very important feature, as I am, in fact, a plus sized girl. The fact that certain parts of me are bigger plusses than others makes me think that maybe some support is in order. The girls are rather epic...Has anyone really thought about the timeless fashion debate--just because things CAN be made in Big girl sizes does not mean that they SHOULD?

6. Maybe a nice suit?

Hmmm... those stripes on a big girl could turn into the flag of some obscure southern hemisphere nation.

7. Perhaps a single unifying color?

MMMmmm, the hat could be a problem. I need good peripheral vision to safely navigate the dance floor. Although I can dust the hell out of it with that dust ruffle at the bottom...

8. Maybe something with a simple cut, but a nice subdued pattern?

Again, how lovely that this company makes this stunner in plus sizes. Not sure I can properly express my gratitude.

9. Well, I still have time to look for a dress, I guess. I was thinking about how I'd like my makeup. I've been cruising the MAC counter, but I haven't spotted THIS look.

The possessed-by-an-unholy-demon-that-is-about-to-consume-your-soul look--very nice. She also kind of looks like Christine Baranski (SP?). She was the Who that boffed the grinch in the live action film...

10. Let's not forget the all important undergarments.

11. Okay, seriously, it's a lovely cause and I encourage you all to go read the story and buy a ticket if you have extra money hanging around in PayPal.

12. Now on to serious things...Are you ready for the Dorkteenth?

13. Go to Dorkbloggers to see Mert's Prom Dress....



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!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

It's Wednesday Hero Time Again!

Pippa nominated me for the thinking blogger based upon my participation in the Wednesday Hero Blogroll.

I get those as canned emails that I then re-post, and I feel like a little bit of a fraud for accepting the award. Chris does all of the hard work. Go check it out, the link is at the end of the post.

I try to add my two cents at the end of each post (except for last week--lazy me, crazy week), but my bit really is worth two cents or less.

But I come from people who serve. My grandfather, both of my uncles and my aunt. My parents were not in the military, but they served their communities as nurses, and now my brother is a firefighter, HIS wife is a nurse. One of my uncles, the one I'll refer to as the Hippy, lied about his age so he could go to Vietnam at fifteen. Can you imagine that today? How could they not tell? How could his parents stand it? My other uncle was drafted. They both came back changed.

My nephew (Ex's Sister) enlisted out of high school. He went to Iraq and came home safe. His little brother is now in the Navy, but sucks at writing so much as an email, so I'm not sure where or how he is doing. But I am proud of him, too.

I think we as Americans ARE spoiled lazy and unappreciative of all that we have and are really handed on a silver platter. By virtue of being born American, we are given tremendous opportunities, and I hate the shallow "bling" culture that has replaced basic moral standards. I'm not talking abortion (Pro choice), or ancient outdated sodomy laws (guess you know where I stand on the whole gay thing now too). I am talking about basic decency, accountability, and consideration. I still think that the military can exemplify the things that are slowly slipping away.

I'm not saying that we should be in Iraq. I was green the FIRST time we elected Dubya, and almost stroked out upon realizing he had managed to get re-elected in both the popular and electoral votes. ugh. Nor am I saying that the military should be trusted without reservation. Our whole system is a checks and balances kind of deal.

But it is a volunteer Army. Men and women like my nephews offered to go and fight, and we owe them far more than they are probably ever going to get from this country. For every morally bankrupt adrenaline junkie that slips by, there are thousands of individuals serving honorably who believe in the same things that I do (overall). Reposting Wednesday Heroes is the very least, the absolute minimum I can do.

We should read the names at every public event. We should honor those who serve. We should not be allowed to forget. If you ever have the traveling Vietnam Wall come to your town, go see it. It's stunning. It's heartbreaking.

Thanks for reading, now here's your Wednesday Hero.

Maj. William D. Chesarek, Jr.
Royal Air Force's 847th Naval Air Squadron, Commando Helicopter Force


Maj. William D. Chesarek, Jr. has done something no other U.S. service member has done since WWII. On March 21 of this year, Maj. Chesarek was awarded the British Distinguished Flying Cross, by Queen Elizabeth, for saving lives and in recognition for his bravery during combat operations in Iraq. Maj. Chesark was assigned as an exchange officer with the Royal Air Force's 847th Naval Air Squadron, Commando Helicopter Force in 2005 and was the pilot of the RAF’s Lynx Mk7 helicopter.

On the evening of June 10, 2006, Chesarek was providing radio communication relay for British ground troops conducting a company-sized search operation near Amarah, Iraq. Listening to radio transmissions, he overheard that a vehicle involved in the operation had became disabled and a crowd of insurgents was firing small arms and rocket-propelled grenades at the company.

According to his award citation, "Chesarek elected to fly low over the area in an attempt to distract the crowd and if possible, to engage the insurgents." Because the crowd was so close to the ground troops, instead of engaging his machine gun, he "opted instead to provide bold, harassing, very low level flight over the area in an attempt to disperse the crowd."

You can read Maj. Chesarek's story in it's entirety here.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

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 going here.

My Waking Nightmare--oh, and four more things

So I was just surfing my favorite blogs, and both Luckybuzz and
XO mentioned real life meetings with their blogging buddies.

CRSE tagged me for five heretofore unblogged things about myself.

How about this one:** I am socially retarded.

Oh, Jen, you have written that before.

Yes, but I don't think you grasp the depths of my social ineptitude. I would be, literally, stiff as a board, back against the wall, smiling and declining offers to dance or one more drink. Okay, maybe not the one more drink, but sweet lord tiny baby Jesus, I would be tense and unhappy in a fiesta type situation. I am severely, pathologically shy. Once you get enough lube alcohol in me I can loosen up enough to actually speak, but it would literally take weeks of conditioning to get me to be myself. I seriously don't think the Honey knew that I existed for the first few (12) months that we were hanging out in the same place. Because I was a ghost, baby. I think I baffle the Honey's friends. Possibly his family, too.

Shite, now that I have started this, I have to think of four more, don't I?

**I suck ass at all games involving physical aptitude--Pool, Darts, Anything involving a bat or racket. I always think I can kick the Honey's ass at trivia games and he always surprises me--freaking sports categories suck. This fact may have been inferred by my Dork status, but I am sure there are sports dorks out there, somewhere.

**Rather than the oh-so-common 1970's Jennifer, my parents had 2 other names in the running.
1. Rhonda, after the uncle in Vietnam (who was, in fact, seriously wounded, and my Mom did have a dream to that effect the same time he was wounded, but I arrived before she was notified, thank goodness).

2. My father campaigned hard for Escherichia. I come from a long proud line of Okie Dorks. Okie Dokey? Started out as Okie Dorky. Little known fact. For my non-medical friends, my dad wanted me named after the E in E. coli. Again, thank you Mom for stepping in.

**I was once solicited for prostitution at a magazine stand in Downtown Oakland. The guy kept mumbling and I kept smiling and asking him to repeat himself because I could not make out what he was saying. He was saying "Do you want to make some money?" I was twelve. My mom had us out of there in three seconds flat.

one more, one more...

**I once had a sheep named after me. Quite possibly the freakiest conversation I've ever had.

Um, tag? I'd like to tag Kim, just to get her to fucking post again.

Fridays are a glorious thing.

DAVID LETTERMAN'S TOP 10 DRAWBACKS TO WORKING IN A CUBICLE

#10.....Being told to "think outside the box" when you're in a
freakin' box all day long.

#9 .....Not being able to check e-mail attachments without turning
around to see who's behind you.

#8 ....Cubicle Walls do not offer much protection from any kind of gun fire.

#7 .....That nagging feeling that if you press the right button,
you'll get a piece of cheese.

#6 ....Lack of roof rafters for the noose.

#5 .....The walls are too close together for the hammock to work right.

#4 ....23 power cords - 1 outlet.

#3 ....Prison cells are not only bigger, they also have beds.

#2 .....The carpet has been there since 1976 and shows more signs of
life than your co-workers.

And the #1 drawback to working in a cubicle is....

#1 ....You can't walk out and slam the door when you quit.

Thirteen Cases of You Say Tomato

13 Cases of You say Tomato, I say psychopathic/germophobic/unlicensed witchdoctor/craptastic parenting. (Because I AM a perfect parent, thank you, Bre!)

1. By singing along with Carrie Underwood, am I teaching my daughter to be a trashy psychopath? Because that cheating song is catchy and much fun to sing, but if I think about the lyrics, it just screams pSyChO. Don’t know the words? Something like this:
I dug my keys into the side
Of (This/his) pretty little souped up four-wheel-drive
Carved my name into his leather seats
Took a Louisville slugger to both headlights
Slashed a hole in all four tires
Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats. Now I’ll admit to a momentary urge to slap the shit out of the silly bitch when I discovered evidence of the ex’s faithlessness--but then he would have cried, and it was soooo not worth the drama.
2. I was a picky eater. I empathize when my kid doesn’t want to eat something. I’m not making four separate dinners, but I’ll make the kids something if I know we’re having something they find ick. This drives the Honey crazy, since it means that my kids aren’t really game for new exotic foods at his mother’s. I see his point, but man, I was such a picky eater, and I had to take a bite of everything. At least a bite. I would sit at the table for hours facing down my bite of cottage cheese. Eating Cottage cheese was like swallowing vomit to me, and I could not do it. Why my mom loved it so much and served it on a regular basis I cannot fathom
3. Germs. Are you crazy about them? I must confess, I am pretty laid back about it all. I was reading a blog and the author confessed that she took her kids to the “germ pit” aka mall play place. Dude, I love those places. Little O can run herself ragged without having to buy a Crappy Meal.
4. But I am also the one that made the baby’s bottle from tap water. (I heard that gasp of horror) When the time came to switch to formula (Sorry, not a twelve month breastfeeder), I just didn’t see the point in buying special water. I am a big believer in building immunities to the ick of the world through repeated low dose exposures.
5. We don’t do anti-bacterial products in the house, and use them sparingly out in the big bad world. The waterless aspects are too good to pass up, but anit-bac? Not so much.
6. My girlfriend had her daughter on an endless stream of anti-biotic treatments—to the point that she could just call the office and the nurse would call over another re-fill to the pharmacy. No visit, no discussion of symptoms. Isn’t that inherently bad medicine? What if she ever really gets an infection that requires antibiotics? She will be the walking supervirus-resistant to every medicine known to man, baby.
7. I hate the ticklers of the world. When we were kids, there was a man that we adored. But he tickled long past the point of funny or fun. He was not a bad man, there was nothing creepy or inappropriate, he just took things too far. Teasing kids to the point of crying and then mocking them for being babies? Equally Unfunny.
8. Keep track of your children, people. When I worked at B&N, people would drop their young grade schoolers off at the kid’s dept. and go socialize at the other end of the store. WTF? Your cutie pie firstgrader, without an ounce of guile or any natural inhibitions is chatting up the hobo who’d better stop scratching himself soon or I’ll have to intervene. Put down your fricking latte and be a parent. After I left, they were finally allowed to put up signs reminding parents to keep kids in sight. I still see people walk away from their kids. Sigh.
9. Does anyone have superstitious old-world in-laws? Here are a few things that I had never heard of until I gave birth to a Mexican-American princess:
10. Laying a red string on her forehead to cure her tiny baby hiccups. Nobody ever tries to do this to grown-ups, I notice.
11. The belly band to cover the umbillicus until it falls off. Even though they make diapers that go around it, you are supposed to wrap this weird soft piece of material twice around the belly, TIE it to them, and that way you protect the tender belly button. Hey, the BONUS? You then save the piece of flesh that fell off. Is there a spot for that in YOUR baby book?
12. When the soft spot is sunken, it DOESN”T mean she’s getting dehydrated, it means we need to take her to the witch doctor/native (Read unlicensed) chiropractor dude so he can push up on the roof of her mouth and “pop” her soft spot. So you want me to let some guy you know shove his thumb into my tiny daughter’s brainpan?
13. How young is too young to be walking home alone? Too young to be walking on the street AT ALL with no supervision? I live in an okay neighborhood, but Big O is only now (At 11) able to go out and wander the neighborhood without me. I see toddlers out in the yards without anyone out with them. Don’t these people watch TV? Have they ever checked the Megan’s law site for their area? Because I have, and I’m not happy. But at eleven, I can’t really chain him to his bed, and outside activities are healthy. Kids belong outside. We’ll talk about organized sports another day, my friends.

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!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Wednesday Heroes

This Weeks Post Was Suggested By Kathi Billy Hodges, kneeling center.



Billy Hodges, who served in the U.S. Army and Texas National Guard between 1971-1979, is not only being profiled for his service, but also for what he's done since then. Mr. Hodges runs an organization based in El Campo, Tx called Hunts For Heroes. They also have chapter in South Carolina , Arkansas , Mississippi , and California and what they do is take soldiers who've been wounded in battle on hunting and fishing trips and other outdoor related activities. All free of charge.These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People LivedThis 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 going here.

Wow!

Pippajo has awarded me the Thinking Blogger Award. I could not BE more shocked (thank you, Chandler Bing). May I add flattered? I find blogging to be an entertaining way to keep me out of Target—when the security guards know your kids’ names, it time to think about staying home. I get to use the verbiage that would be wasted on my customers, and vent a little. Okay, a lot. But to hear this from Pippa, who writes about deeply personal stuff, and has moved me to tears more than once, is amazing to me. I agree, that this award means I have a big responsibility to choose 5 blogs that really make me think. The problem is that I generally come to the internet to Unplug. I read blogs that will entertain me. This will require some thought.

Okay, I know how she feels about blogging popularity contests, but I can’t NOT say Irreverent Antisocial Intellectual. All comparisons to Chuck Norris aside, she has a unique perspective on the dregs of society, and the ability to speak with authority on dealing with them. The fact that she shares her knowledge with her readers without cushioning the blow and without apology is a glorious thing to behold. IAI, if it’s any consolation, there are no hearts on this button, and it comes in metallic colors, like your beloved hardware (Okay, I really picture your guns being no-nonsense matte black, but work with me here, you’re already pissed off). Face it lady, when you write the way you do, and with the scope of topics covered, eventually accolades WILL come your way. Shut the fuck up and say thank you—you’ve not been voted prom queen, you’ve been voted ass-kicking queen of the mathletes. Now take it. (oooh, I feel so empowered! Should I be pulling your hair?)

And Now for Something Completely Different…

Pendullum
Pendullum does not post as often as I’d wish, but when she does, they are extraordinary. She is always a well written and satisfying read.

Still Life With Soup Can
Sarah at Soup Can is another one I read for fun; she is a sci-fi fan and a cat lover. Sarah is, as she puts it, living in a post apocalyptic city. Her casual references to life in post Katrina New Orleans are always startling. I’m sorry, but I think we HAVE forgotten what happened, and that folks down there are still waiting for all of the help we promised them. I wish I could say that that will all change with a Democrat in office, but a democrat is still a politician, and bureaucracies still choke the life out of any attempt at change.

My fourth choice is a new blog for me, I was following the MyBlogLog links, and found Charles Sheehan-Miles
His IS a thinking blog, and led me to this nauseating story of soldiers being treated as meat. I swear to Dog, that scene in The Wall, where the kids are being ground up? I’d like to see a You Tube of THAT with a big picture of Dubya turning the crank. What am I talking about?
Read this.

My final nominee would be Sayre.
What can I say about Sayre? I found her during the fabulous Nikki’s weight loss contest, Operation Lose that Ass. Sayre not only lost that ass, she is still enjoying the karate classes she signed up for during that time, and I find that inspiring as hell. Sayre is someone I would love to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon with. You’d be guaranteed great conversation spanning a wide range of topics.

The directions I was given are these:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think, 2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme, 3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote



I heart Mert.

My children look like criminals.

I worked in the mall for years.

 

I watched endless legions of kids almost get mowed down walking ahead of their parents in the parking lot.

 

Little O has to hold a hand on any patch of asphalt.  She just knows. 

 

The other rule that is iron clad when we are out is that if we are next to our car, both kids have to be touching the car.  I don't care where, I don't care how, a body part of yours had better be touching a body part of the car.  If you are close enough to touch my car, you are too far away from other cars to be in trouble (at least in regards to getting mowed down or scratching other vehicles).

 

Little O has begun assuming the position when I call out the reminder to touch the car.

 

Remind me to ask the Honey to stop watching "Cops" with her in the afternoons.

Ahem

Sorry for the lack of my usual frenzied weekend posting, but Pippajo has thrown me for a loop and I am now striving to be worthy. I usually just go for a punch line, ya know?

It's almost done...

Under the Heading: People Suck**

My son is named for his two great grandfathers. My grandpa passed away a few years ago, but the ex's grandpa is still alive and well in Chico, CA. We named our son after these men because they were both men to be admired and were universally adored.
The ex's Gramps recently lost his wife, and is alone at their home. He awoke the other night to a gun in his face and the demand for all of his money. Apparently he has never been in the habit of locking his back patio slider, and they walked right in. Gramps was not harmed, they didn't even take his wallet, just the cash inside. His health and his credit rating will both be fine, and nothing could ever shake Grandpa's faith. (There's a country song by Brooks and Dunn, Believe. It could have been written for this sweet old man. I love that song because it makes me think of him.)
If they had knocked on his door in the morning and said they needed money, Gramps would probably have fed them and emptied his wallet for them all the same.
He will turn 90 in April.
People.Suck.
**Profanity deleted because Gramps would not approve.

Thirteen Reasons for Friday the Dorkteenth

Thirteen Reasons to join in the fun on



1. Maybe you have been in the dork closet for a long time, and this could help you break the news to your family (thanks, MERT!)

2. Hasn’t the whole black cat thing been done to death? Do we need one more news story about the origins of the superstition? Be a part of the NEW Friday the thirteenth tradition.

3. This is not the big commitment of other, WEEKLY memes. How many Friday the thirteenths do we get in a year?

4. Think of it as the blogging equivalent of a one-night-stand. You don’t HAVE to, but wouldn’t it be fun? Just this once?

5. We double-dorkk dare you to post your dorkiest moment.

6. You can totally vote for yourself once a day! Jeez, if you want to vote from multiple ISP’s, you really are a dork, and probably NEED the title.

7. Because we are whores for traffic.

8. Make new bloggy friends, and they’ll already KNOW you’re a dork. So much more comfortable to just get that one out of the way.

9. Read the dorktales of your bloggy idols. If they play.

10. Hot Dork on Dork action! (Okay, I just wanna see if we get a google hit on that one)

11. Because you may spit milk out of your nose, reading about knocking over the voting booth, or locking oneself in the garden shed.

12. You get to diplay the button ala Mert*, our techno Dork Goddess:

*The lawyers would like us to state that the Button ala Mert in no way resembles the Venus Butterfly of LA Law fame. Dear God, I AM a dork.


13. Who are we kidding? It’s all about the glory- Be declared the Prince(ss) of Dorkness!


Whaddya mean you've never heard of it?
Oh, all right, go HERE



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 the magical linky box provided. 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!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants




p.p.s.--send your good thoughts to DK at A Flyover Blog. She's one of my favorite TTers and she could use some lovin'.

Because Nothing says DIRTY like...

When I think of double-talking, shifty-eyed, lying, thieving behavior, I like to think it goes something like this:

 

I suppose if you're going to kick and fuss, you can speak to my staff. 

But not formally.

And not under oath.

And no record of their UNofficial UNsworn testimony may be made.

 

The funny thing about it is that I think every administration fires these lawyers and sets up their own.  This isn't something exclusive to Dubya, it's just that there is such a culture of deceit in place that it never occurred to anyone to just confirm that they canned a bunch a lawyers, just like every other administration.

Wednesday Hero

This Weeks Soldier Was Suggested By Jenn

Capt. Alan B. Rowe
35 years old from Hagerman, Idaho
1st Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division, I Marine Expeditionary Force, Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center
September 3, 2004


The Perfect Marine. That's how many describe Capt. Alan B. Rowe. Respected and dedicated to the Corps and still able to be a husband and father.

Rowe, who was on his fourth deployment since joining the Corps in 1985, died with two other Marines, Lance Cpl. Nicholas Wilt, 23, of Tampa, Florida, and 1st Lt. Ronald Winchester, 25, of Rockville Center, N.Y., when a remote-controlled explosive device detonated as they returned to their vehicle after inspecting a bridge in Anbar province, near the Syrian border.

"He was a quiet, humble person and extremely polite," his widow, Dawn, recalled from their early days of dating. "He was a traditional type of gentleman. My mom was surprised to meet such a ... perfect-picture Marine." "He did a great job balancing a pretty intense Marine Corps career with also being a great husband and father. He worked extremely hard to balance it." "He was so dedicated to the Marine Corps. He was really driven and believed in what he did. He was a Marine’s Marine. Tall, blond and fit. Kind of the mental image you think of when you think of the Marine Corps."

A week after his death, Capt. Rowe was posthumously promoted to major. He leaves behind his wife and two children.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

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 going here.


Award season is over, and no one read the names. But despite the two stupid asshats who booed, last night at the concert? Young Bob came through. Robert Cray has a song, Twenty, that he played last night. There was no long speech about Iraq, nothing anti Bush was said--But the song spoke for the lives lost, and that's what I want. I just don't think people should be allowed to FORGET. Men and wome have thier lives on the line, and then come home to marginalized care and a government that thinks the GI bill is the extent of it's commitment to these people.

Because the evil accountant won the double or nothing.

Potluck Cream Puff

Bring to boil in Med. saucepan:
1 Stick Margarine or Buttah. You know I prefer Buttah.
1 Cup Water

Add:
1 Cup Flour
Stir til dough comes from sides of pan and well blended.

Beat in 4 eggs, one at a time.
Pour into greased 9x12 pan and Bake at 400 for 30 mins.

Cool, then add filling.

3 sm boxes FRENCH vanilla instant pudding
4 Cups Milk
1 8oz pkg Cream Cheese (room temp)

Beat together till well blended
Spread on Puff Crust.

Slap a tub of Cool Whip on top of THAT
Drizzle with chocolate syrup.

EEEEEEvil.

I went back to work today.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.


the scandal of the starving baby
Originally uploaded by Djuliet.

Had a customer complain to my manager about my bad attitude before I even got my first cup of coffee.

Pay yer freaking BILL, and the late notices will stop. It's a pretty straightforward system.

Silly me, I forgot that diplomacy is more important than truth. A glorious week of saying the FIRST thing that popped into my head was obviously NOT conducive to dealing with the great unwashed.

Today is the last day of my vacation.

the scandal of the starving baby
Originally uploaded by Djuliet.

My house is maaaaaaarvelous. No, really, it's like a whole new house. But I spent a week away from work and went nowhere. I think I only left my house three times. Little O didn't go to daycare, and actually, I kept Big O home from school one day (gasp!).

It was....lovely. I was terrible at my stint as a stay at home mom. I was so lonely and isolated that I just gained four thousand pounds and became a raving bitch. (At least according to the ex.) This was fun. Even with the cleaning, or maybe...because of the cleaning?
I'm not sure I'm ready to go THAT far, but it was a week well spent. Now I just want another one to enjoy it, and actually get some reading time in.

Hello...is this thing on?

Anyone volunteering to pay all of my bills so I can read and blog at my leisure?

Oh well, back to the garbage mines.

Sucktastik Sunday Quizzez

You Are Corona

You don't drink for the love of beer. You drink to get drunk. You prefer a very light, very smooth beer. A beer that's hardly a beer at all. And while you make not like the taste of beer, you like the feeling of being drunk. You drink early and often. Sometimes with friends. Sometimes alone. All the party needs is you!

What's Your Beer Personality?

There was a quiz on Quizzilla, Are you a Mermaid? It was written by flesheatingmerperson. yeah, it sort of went downhill from there. I ended up being a mermaid, but the whole thing was sort of off-putting and soooo NOT what I had hoped for.

Another hurry hurry quick plea...

Shamrock Smile
Originally uploaded by IntoTheLens

My brother and his firefighters shave their heads for St Baldrick's, a charity for kids with cancer...
His boys are participating for the third year, I think.
It works based upon sponsorship, and if you need a write off, or just want to thrill two little boys, or one big boy, go Here and make a donation.

Much better investment than green beer.

Grrr...okay you have to search under participant last name Fikes. My direct link won't work.

Bananas? You think there are any italians shaving their heads this year?

Error

Go here and make your own!

Thursday 13-Vacation Sucks Haikus

Thirteen Vacation Sucks Haiku--haikus? nah, gotta be haiku. haikooses? Inspired by my bloggy hero, Casual Slack Called the city guy please sir can I have some more Axe falls on Friday Co-worker bite me No one called about my house Thanks for the support Clean Cleaner Cleanest I hate the smell of pine sol Want to go to work Fingernails are gone fumes creeping into my brain oooh, pretty colors die-die-die-die-die scrub, scrub, scrub a dub dub, dub Mr Clean, suck this my son is grounded much like the food in his rug cleaned his room, my ass i am so tired he is sleeping, why not me? coffee is my friend quit blogging and clean how can you be so stupid they'll be here Friday Aw, look at the snaps! Little O with my mom-oh, crap Distracted again Must invite in-laws "Come to dinner and judge me" Good thing I like them Wait, didn't I just Empty this stupid vacuum? Love my bagless vac. must buy more coffee and some steak ASAP on my knees already Last Haiku, thank you back to the wretched cleaning what a vacation

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 have a magical linky box that is, apparently, functional again. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

AAAAH HA!

Ads for the movie "Shooter" have been driving me crazy. I kept thinking it sounded like a Stephen Hunter book, but Shooter was not the title. Point of Impact. Had to google it.
mmmm, books....
I know I've said it before, but Greg Rucka writes a great story. I can never remember which one comes first--I think it's Keeper, the second one was Finder, and I always thought they should be reversed. The hero is a bodyguard named Atticus Kodiak. Rucka writes graphic novels, too, but if you read things like Shooter, I highly recommend Keeper. Ooooh, and Sleeping Dogs by Thomas Perry. It's hard to find the first one, Butcher's Boy (unless they are re-printing it by now), but Sleeping Dogs is another one of those books.

I remember books...lovely grey pages, cracking the spine, mmmmm...

I can have books again when my house is cleaner. Please note that I did not say clean. My house is never clean. I AM the crazy old lady with forty years worth of crap piled up. I was on Oprah recently. Okay, not ME, but my psychic twin (no, not CRSE, I apparently have another). Except that SHE works at a container store, and makes a living organizing other people. I'm not quite THAT hypocritical(?). Whatever that is...No, I have my papers at work in piles, and my house is the same. But higher. And with random crap thrown in. I have achieved in thirty-six years what it took my grandmother sixty-three years to do.
It's our first rental inspection tomorrow. Something new for our fair city, and my part of town is in the first wave. My co-worker is convinced that someone called and complained about me, and that is why I have been chosen. Since I saw tags on several other rental units in my neighborhood, I don't think that it's for that. We are pest free and pet free, so I am not sweating that so much, but it lurks in the back of my mind. It's the clothes that are killing me. I have more clothes in this house than we will ever need. I need to start throwing two away for each new item that I bring into the house.
Gah. What a way to spend a vacation. CLEANING. ugh.

To my more dignified bloggy compadres?

I wanna have a little contest over at Dorkbloggers. I want you to confess your dorkiest moment on Friday, April thirteenth. I'll set up a linky box on Dorkbloggers, and if you put a link to Dorkbloggers, or one of the specially manufactured buttons (are you reading this, Mert?) on your blog, you'll be entered to win...uh, something. Probably an amazon giftcard, because nothing beats filthy lucre, eh?

We'll have a poll to take votes on the winner, and you can cruise other people's entries via the linky box, and if you don't have a blog you can leave your story in my comments and I'll re-post it for you, and, and, can you think of anything else?

OOOOh! For those of you who had to stop and think of the last time you did something dorky, we'll make up a grown-up button. For those of you who had to stop and think of WHICH dorky moment to use, we'll have some more of that cartoon goodness you've come to expect from dorkbloggers.

I realize that I am pimping hard for my little endeavor, but I hope that some of you guys who don't normally dorkblog will play.

I haven't posted it over at Dorkbloggers yet because I am still pondering my options, here--I am totally open to suggestions, hints, and stern lectures about whoring myself out for a little traffic.

But c'mon. You know you want to play, baby.

chorizo!

chorizo!
Originally uploaded by darweidu.

The Honey isn't feeling good today, and I kind of blew off making dinner for him last night, so he's starving. I stopped at the store and got his favorite breakfast food.
Looking on Flickr, there are lots of dry looking sausages that look pretty good. But the chorizo I find in the markets here in CA is a ground type thing, loose--no casing.

It looks like something I'd scrape off of my shoe and then tie my shoe to the bumper in hopes of keeping the smell out of the car. Once you heat it up, your dog has the runs. It smells wonderful, but the preferred way to eat it, at least for the honey, is with scrambled eggs. He likes the chorizo scrambled into the eggs so it's one big slop. This stuff is sooooo greasy and soaks up ten eggs like nothing. This is why Chorizo is a treat for him, because it's such a huge quantity by the time it's done. He'll be eating it for the next few days, because after reading the ingredients, I can't say that I'll be touching it. I don't do lymph. We'll just rank it right up there with menudo.

Sunday Quizzfest

Your Brain is Blue

Of all the brain types, yours is the most mellow. You tend to be in a meditative state most of the time. You don't try to think away your troubles. Your thoughts are realistic, fresh, and honest. You truly see things as how they are. You tend to spend a lot of time thinking about your friends, your surroundings, and your life.

What Color Is Your Brain?

I'm a Porsche 911!

You have a classic style, but you're up-to-date with the latest technology. You're ambitious, competitive, and you love to win. Performance, precision, and prestige - you're one of the elite,and you know it.

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

Yeah, Baby! Got this one from Sayre,and Vroom Vroom, I can live with it. My dad has had a hubcap from his last Porsche hanging in a place of honor in every house my parents have had. It's older than me. He had two, I think, before my mom convinced him that it wasn't going to fly with Two kids, and it was time for another fine piece of German engineering, the Volkswagon.

surfing the blogrolls...

I love cruising other people's blogrolls to find new good stuff. Because we've all established how well that "Next Blog" button works out for us. I found this quote atGabalot's Bits.

Some People are like slinkies
Not really good for anything
But they still bring a smile to your face
When you push them down a flight of stairs

Jen

is one of those people with Fabulous links.

To answer Stewart:

I have a question. I'm asking this with genuine curiosity. As a parent, exposing an eleven year old is a concern to you. What about violence? Does your child play videogames? Watch violence on TV? What is his exposure to that?

It is the hardest thing about being a modern parent. I try to ensure that he isn't over-exposed, but he's also a curious kid, and there is a lot out there!
I DO try to monitor which video games we bring into the house. When Big O was in the second grade, we took he and a buddy somewhere in my car. The longer I listened, the more appalled I became. Because this sweet cheeked, velvet painting-eyed adorable child in my backseat was spouting absolute garbage from his newest video game, one of the early versions of Grand Theft Auto. gaaaaaah. I was biting my tongue and forming the discussion for later, when my own sweet boy, missing teeth and all, said "really? you get extra points for killing policemen? hah-that's funny!" At which point I pulled the car over and probably scared the other little boy to death explaining how and why that was so NOT funny.
In spite of that lovely vignette, I don't forbid Big O from going over to houses where those games are played, because it IS the modern world we live in. But he knows my feelings on the issue, and knows that those games won't be coming home. (Ask me how bitter I am that Jak & Daxter changed from an adventure game to a cartoon shoot-em-up. No, don't -that would be a whole 'nother post.)
Big O is dying to play games online, and is still forbidden. He hasn't really expressed an interest in a My Space page, thank dog. Is that more of a girl thing? My other attempt at monitoring what he's exposed to is that we don't have cable. Saturday morning is still golden for my kid because that is his weekly dose of cartoons. I don't want to give the impression that he's living in a purity bubble or anything--his father buys him the occasional crap game and takes him to movies that I don't approve of. In a way, I think that's a dad's role, and especially in the case of a divorce, kind of par for the course. I am fortunate that I have a pretty good relationship with his dad still, so when he called me to ask if the 300 might be too much, I could just say "Ya think?" and they chose a different movie. You have to pick your battles.
He doesn't watch medical gore, and the sci-fi violence of Supernatural and Smallville are his favorites right now. I can't keep him cut off from everything, and I'm not sure it would be fair to make him a total social pariah, unable to discuss anything on television except Ugly Betty. He is a big Simpsons fan, and I really debated that, but again, can't keep him away from everything, especially when our local Fox affiliate plays two episodes a day, before I am home from work.
I just want to make sure that I give him age appropriate but still challenging stuff. He has the sense of humor that is sooo ready for Adams, but I got him watching the holy grail not so long ago, and I had forgotten the virgins and the spankings. Not incredibly raunchy by today's standards, but I had forgotten all about it. He's eleven. There is far worse on MTV, I guess. There's such a short window on being a kid anymore, though.
sigh.
There you have it.

HELP!

Do you read Sci-fi?

Help! Was there sex in Hitchhikers Guide? I want something new for my eleven year old, and I don't remember any, but it has been oh holy mother of dog twenty years since I read them. If he picks up Captain Underpants one more time, I may burn them all. He has also taken to reading My Side of the Mountain over and over again--this, I totally get. He can read Harry Potter with no real problems, and I think he would love Adams.
But is there sex? My dad handed me 1984 when I was in the fourth grade, and man, just because I COULD read it doesn't mean I was ready for it. I'd like to avoid doing that to Big O.

Dorkstacy

I just found this site through my fellow Dorkblogger, Jill.

Oh, it's perfect.

I may cry.

I am really soooo geeked out.

My christmas dream comes to fruition in two weeks.

 

No, not the winning lotto ticket, or a real house, but the CONCERT!

 

I have, taped to the inside of my coffe cup cupboard, where even I cannot lose it, a manila envelope containing two tickets to see Eric Clapton.  As if that were not it's own little slice of heaven, Robert Cray is opening.

 

I have resisted thinking about it too much (although I admit I got a little misty when I realized what it was I was getting for Christmas), so that I would not obsess.  But it's getting closer and I'm starting to get excited.

 

I've seen Robert Cray twice already, and I'd be just as excited to see him again--but it's Eric-Freaking-Clapton.

 

To quote my fellow dork, Pippajo, SQUEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

er, um, oh gawd.

I was just bored and hitting the "next blog" button, which usually takes me to kids from brazil and malaysia--but I found a lady who just got a ping pong table--I am actually very jealous. BUT I DIGRESS...

A few more clicks, and where do I find myself? At someone's SecondLife blog. Now I admit that I am generally pretty far behind the trends anymore, because, well, my REAL life gets in the way. I haven't been blogging for a full year, yet, and I had to ask my sixteen year old niece to show me how to text on my cell phone--which I promptly forgot. I am by no means up on the new things. I am intrigued by Sarah at Still Life with Soup Can's forays into Oblivion.
But this other lady has started a blog for the "photos" of her modelling jobs for her SecondLife persona.
Am I more forgiving of Sarah because it's sci-fi fantasy themed, so I GET it more? Because Sarah doesn't strike me as odd at all, but this lady completely freaked me out. Maybe it's that Sarah writes about real life, and the other blog was made up almost solely of this lady's modelling jobs? I don't know. I am embarrassed FOR her.
Maybe I am just hopelessly un-cool.

You forget so many of the little things...

I adore the way small children think.

I told Little O that I love her bunches.

She one-upped me and told me that she loves me bunches of much.

You think you won't ever forget the funny things that they say.

But they fade, and just tickle your conscious brain as you watch them play vidoe games or patiently fly kites with their little sister. It kills me that I did not document more of Big O's amazing thought processes when he was her age. He was such a funny kid. I feel almost guilty documenting Little O without a corresponding Big O memory.

I could go for a little Italy right about now!

A reddish glare
Originally uploaded by Hobo pd.

Okay, before we get to the meat of this fully sponsored post, can you believe this photo? I was looking through Flickr for something to go with an Italian post, and every one of this man's pictures was amazing.

A Pay Per Post opportunity leapt from the screen at me today. Post something about Italy. Now Italy is one of the countries that I did NOT get to see when I went to Europe. I want to go. Isn't that like saying that the sky is blue, though? Who DOESN'T want to go to Italy? SO much of Western history centers around Italy, and it's such a rich, dense, multi-layered explosion of historical flavors... You like it bloody? Italy's got it. How about religion--um, helloooo, vatican, anyone? Politics, Lust, Fashion, Romance. Italy pretty much embodies each of the seven deadly sins and really, every modern vice. But it's still beautiful.

I admit that I love happy endings, but Under the Tuscan Sun? Great movie. Didn't you instantly want to run away from all of your problems and find a charming Italian villa to pour your energy into? The sponsor of this post has Italian properties for sale. I personally am NOT George Clooney, with the money to spend on a Villa on Lake Como, but we have to dream, right? I set up services for people from the Bay area, who are buying weekend houses in Lathrop, CA. I realize that you all have no idea what this means, but trust me, the thought of spending a half a million dollars to buy into a cramped housing tract, in the middle of a muddy flood plain, it boggles the mind. I just want to scream at them all. If my half a million bucks bought me a cobwebby apartment above a restaurant in an Italian village, I would sooo spend it on the tiny apartment rather than the McMansion.

I apologize again for restating this, but this has been a sponsored post. I'm still a little bitter that PPP refused to pay me for the Dubai post, because they felt that I was not clear about the sponsorship. I do not want their disclosure policy button on my blog. I think that I make it pretty clear when it is a sponsored post, and I don't take a bazillion of these opportunities. That makes two posts that I did not get paid for. grrr... (okay one was due to my own over-enthusiastic dorkiness, but c'mon!)

********************

Now they say the opportunity has closed, but it is still listed. Are they just messin' with my head, now? You know what? I'd still like to go to Italy--this post will stand as a little freee love to the folks who sponsored it. I don't write them if I don't mean them. That's why there are so few.

Random slash dot madness

I can't remember what, exactly CRSE calls these, but I am documenting my short attention span with the following random thoughts:

-crazy stuff on PBS, bad early seventies musical special. I cannot stand Jethro Tull, and watching them perform does not improve the experience. By the same token, I have to give props to the band geek that parlayed his flute playing into an actual position of power in a successful rock band. Still creepy as hell, and creepier to watch, but jeez, talk about living a dream. The rock flute. creepy.

-I laugh and cannot believe that the rest of the country thinks all californians surf and drive convertibles to the beach, but I do the same thing. Everytime I hear about wild weather, I fret for Sayre in Florida, or Kathleen in Texas, and I worried about how CRSE was getting to AZ, and if they were dealing with shit weather along the way. Imagine my horror to read that IAI DID get the tornado experience. If Ms. Chuck admits to wild eyed anxiety, it had to be mother humming terrifying. I'm glad everyone is okay.

-But I'm sending house and health vibes to you, Sayre--feel better and let's think of a grand send off for your last weekend with the college kids--get the neighbors in on it and blast wayne newton or something equally torturous to college aged kids. Are they too old for the super high frequency that only kids can hear? If they are, I'll bet their dates aren't. Or there's a PBS special that's creepy as hell, with Jethro Tull --you probably know the one...

-Little O has become obsessed with her western shirt. I told her she was a Rodeo Queen and let her wear her tiara to the laser tag party on Sunday. Tonight she conned me into buying her an aqua blue cowgirl hat with it's own tiara attatched. Now she really IS a rodeo queen.

Get.me.out.of.here.

I sit behind a plexiglass window at work.
Customers laugh and ask me if the trash is a dangerous business. In my head, I generally think that while trash isn't dangerous, our part of town IS, and oh, look, there go your rims in that shopping cart.
What I usually SAY is that it's kind of like the spit shield at the salad bar--and through the wonders of plexiglass, they can usually, literlally, see my point. ugh.

Yesterday I actually had a man tap on the plexiglass and tell me to try and keep up.

I thought I was going to go straight through the window. Un-freaking-believable. One of us wasn't getting it, but it sure as hell wasn't me.

Helpful hint? When demanding extra help from a Customer Service Rep? Try not to piss them off.

wow. this has been a remarkably restrained post about yet another booger-eating-moron.

You're welcome.

Thursday 13 #28--the weak one.

I know I've had some lame TT's lately. Life has been so busy with actual life-type things! Here are Thirteen life type things from my life.

1. Little O had her first school photo taken today. Let me explain that I am in AWE of the women in my Mother-in-law's neighborhood. Their little girls have these laser guided parts, and silky smooth ponytails. They look like they belong in catalogs. My daughter, on the other hand (and the REAL proof that she IS my daughter in spite of her loathing for mashed potatoes) looks like she just fell out of the the tilt-a-whirl. Or maybe that I tried to put her hair into ponytails while ON the tilt-a-whirl. I may have been overly stressed this morning.

2. The honey started laughing as I pulled the third set of horribly askew ponytails out of her head this morning. Then he told me about his sister's school picture where her ponytails were totally screwy. He said that's why everyone loves school pictures, and if I get her hair perfect, it almost guarantees that she'll do the funky/cheesy/picture smile. Aw, that was just what I needed to hear. Then we agreed that I had somehow given her Nemo-like proportions (one big and healthy, one decidedly scrawny and non-functional) and we needed a fifth and final go at ponytails.

3. Because one childhood milestone wasn't enough, last night we went to the official meeting for future seventh graders and their parents. Ack. My firstborn is going into Junior High. I REMEMBER junior high. How did this happen? When did he stop wearing Pokemon T-shirts? What am I going to do with my encyclopedic knowledge of Pokemon types?

4. I saw my son sucessfully interacting with GIRLS. I tried to stay out of range so I didn't embarrass him, because again, I REMEMBER junior high. I'm not saying he was putting the moves on them (Thank you lord tiny baby Jesus), but, well, refer to the end of number three.

5. Kimmy wasn't at work and I was so horribly depressed, and it took me two days to realize WHY I was so absolutely wretched. Not that life is always peachy, but I am not really a depressed type person on a day-to-day basis. I looked and acted like death warmed over, to the point that people thought that I was sick, but once I recognized what my problem was, I could get OVER it, you know? Not that I'm over Kimmy abandoning us, but I can set it aside to be a functioning adult.

6. CRSE finally got my present, which seemed to take FOREVER. I began this theory about her thieving postal workers, but then it arrived and I had to resume my normal anna nicole and marketing blog conspiracies.

7. Thursday Thirteen was saved! Wait, I said Life-type things, huh? Screw it, blogging is a life-type thing at this point. I get a lot of free therapy via this little blog.

8. OOOh! Speaking of therapy, my work will pay for three marital-type counseling sessions for me, and then the Honey can have three as someone who is in my life, and so we get SIX session for free! I was dreading the costs, so this is a big ole plus.

9. Okay, back to blogging for a minute... Have you visited Dorkbloggers yet? It's so much fun to play, and have a place to revel in the dorkstacy. The Dorkabilities?

10. My best Jen is having a luau party for her daughter's birthday this weekend, and I am headed South to help. She just sent me an awesome photo of a snowy tree outside of her house, and I have to say, she'd better be right about the high sixties all weekend. Her husband bought us both grass skirts and coconut bras, and I have to laugh. Jen could pull it off. I, unfortunately, would look like I had some regrettable pasties on, and would terrify the children. Maybe with a few gallons of spray-tan I could look like a radioactive (cause you know I'd be orange) samoan matriarch.... Nah, I think I'll be better off using them as ear-muffs if the snow photo is any hint...

11. My parents are officially gypsies. I think they prefer that term to "homeless." They are out of thier little idyllic river retreat, and their new rental won't be available to them until May. They leave Friday for a three week adventure in Brazil, being hosted by their little exchange student's family. Several of their friends have offered them space until the new house is ready, but I can't imagine how uncomfortable it will be for them. Then again, I am the one who has issues using other people's showers, so maybe it won't be so bad for them. They are nothing if not practical.

12. Taxes. Must.File.Taxes.

13. Played Laser tag at a nephew's birthday party on Sunday. Well, they played laser tag, I played walking human target. I was beaten by seven year olds. Good fun, but hot sweaty work, when wearing a warm cozy sweater. Then one of the moms tried to scam me out of the better coupon (it expired later). In the words of Chuck aka IAI: Die mom-bots! I'll bet the mom-bot's daughter always has perfectly parted hair.

Leave me some linky love!

Wednesday Hero

Jurgersen" src="http://img138.imageshack.us/img138/5911/sgtmajbrentjergersenbd3.jpg" border=1>Sgt. Maj. Brent "The Rock" Jurgersen
Headquarters Troop, 1st Squadron, 4th U.S. Cavalry, 1st Infantry Division

Active Duty

Not even two near-death encounters deterred Sgt. Maj. Brent Jurgerson's passion and eagerness to serve his country and lead his troops back home.

Jurgersen celebrated his second "alive day" anniversary January 26, 2007. It was a day of mixed emotions for him because on that same day two years ago he was given a second chance to live. It was a day that changed his life forever. While on patrol in Ad Dyuliah, Iraq, two rocket-propelled grenades struck his Humvee. The explosion killed his gunner and left Jurgersen fighting for his life, flat-lining twice on the operating table in Balad.

Afterwards, during a promotion ceremony in August of 2006, Jurgersen was selected for a command sergeant major appointment. Becoming the first full limb amputee student to attend the academy.

You can read the rest of Sgt. Maj. Jurgersen's story here.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

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 going here.

The Oscars were on Sunday. Nobody read the names.

Can I go off track for a minute? Medical technology has changed enormously since we were last in a war. Imagine what our casualties would be like if we DIDN'T have so much technological know-how. Now consider the state of Walter Reed, where virtually every severely injured soldier goes. I will vote for the presidential candidate that starts talking about how we're going to ensure that the men and women coming home from overseas get appropriate, exemplary (not adequate) medical care.

It's a volunteer force, folks, but once someone is injured because WE sent them somewhere, we have an obligation to make sure that they are cared for. People have wildly different experiences at VA hospitals. IF the VA is what these men and women are going to depend on, we need to start straightening it out and pumping money into the system NOW, so it is ready to handle this load.

Go read the new issue of Discover Magazine about the increase in Traumatic Brain Injuries that are saved. Then go read an article about the state of Walter Reed. Then drive by a guy in a faded green jacket holding up a piece of cardboard. We already have homeless veterans. How many of them could have benefited from good psychiatric help and a country that was ready for their return to the normal world? If someone makes it through their tour(s) without a scratch, there are other ways that these folks will need care. GAAHH! Okay, I'll get off my soapbox.

(sob) a luvvy poem to a best girlfriend

Kimmy is moving away.

Rather than giving her one single solitary more thing to pack, I am going to give her this poem/book/run-on sentence. It's called I like you. It was written by Sandol Stoddard Warburg in 1965. I wasn't born yet. But I sold lots of copies of this book once I read it, so I figure Sandol won't mind if I re-post it online.

I like you
And I know why

I like you because
You are a good person
To like

I like you because

When I tell you something special
You know it's special
And you remember it
A long long time

You say
Remember when you told me
Something special

And both of us remember


When I think something is important
You think it's important too

We have good ideas

When I say something funny

You laugh

I think I'm funny
You think I'm funny too
hah-hah

...

And I like you because
When I am feeling sad
You don't always cheer me up right away

Sometimes it is better to be sad
You can't stand the others being so googly and gaggly every single minute
You want to think about things

It takes time

I like you because if I am mad at you
Then you are mad at me too

It's awful when the other person isn't

Phooey

They are so nice and hoo-hoo you could just about punch them in the nose

I like you because if I think I am going to throw up then you are really sorry
You don't just pretend you are busy looking at the birdies and all that

You say maybe it was something you ate

You say the same thing happened to me one time

And the same thing did

If you find two four-leaf clovers
You give me one

If I find four
I give you two

If we only find three
We keep on looking

Sometimes we have good luck
And sometimes we don't

...

I like you because
I don't know why but
Everything that happens
Is nicer with you

I can't remember when I didn't like you

It must have been lonesome then

I like you because because
I forget why I like you
But I do

So many reasons

On the Fourth of July I like you because
It's the Fourth of July

On the Fifth of July
I like you too

If you and I had some drums
And some horns and some horses
If we had some hats and some
Flags and some fire-engines

We could be a HOLIDAY
We could be a CELEBRATION
We could be a WHOLE PARADE
See what I mean?

Even if it was the nine-hundred-and-ninety-ninth of July
Even if it was August
Even if it was way down at the bottom of November
Even if it was no place particular in January

I would go on choosing you
And you would go on choosing me
Over and over again

That's how it would happen every time
I don't know why

I guess I don't know why I like you really

Why do I like you

I guess I just like you

I guess I just like you

Because I like you

Sweet Jeebus that was a whole lot longer than I thought it would be. That's how much I love you, Kimmy. I feel this way about most people who make it into the inner Circle of Jen, but Kimmy is the one who told me I ought to blog, and who adores my son as much as me, and shit, she's KIMMY, the coolest, most generous, sweetest person on the planet. She's also witty and sarcastic as fuck, and is not at all traumatized when the word fuck falls outta my mouth.

I FUCKIN' love you, Kim.

And uh, Ahem. If Sandol Stoddard Warburg or someone representing S.S. Warburg is upset about my republishing most of their tiny gift book (ISBN 0-395-01716-3), please let me know and I'll remove it.

Photos of our drunken sob-fest to be posted once I locate my damned USB cable.

I've been robbed again.

Go read, here!

Hip Suburban White Guy

Is this blog for real?

I think this is a marketing blog.

It was nominated for a perfect post in January, for the third (or so) post on the blog, a debate about whether or not our fifteen year old heroine should take the new HPV vaccine.  I think it's all a shill for this vaccine.

 

The premise is that she was orphaned in the 9/11 attacks, losing both her mother and her older brother.  Father fell out of their life years ago.  The trauma of 9/11 subsequently killed her grandmother, and now she and her two younger sisters are cared for, reluctantly, by their aunt.  Her shrink suggested that she blog open letters to her 9/11 mother.

• She has a poignant story about asking the reporters for the Chelsea Clinton-hands off policy.  Except that she was NINE.  What nine year old has any CLUE about the press' treatment of the first daughter that was initiated the year they were BORN?
• In addition, this kid has perfect grammar and spelling.  She has an excellent command of the language, never lapses into text-ese or other common mistakes.  Is it just the edumacation system in California that sucks so badly?  Because I know THIRTY-year-olds that make more errors on their blogs than this child.  
• After a SECOND mention of the HPV vaccine, she started a courtship with the most popular boy in her peer group, who has now announced that he wants to see her exclusively--but there's a catch.  She has to put out, because he has needs, you see. 

I'm telling you, this is all a marketing ploy for the HPV vaccine, and I find it sooo offensive that they would cash in on the 9/11 tragedy to shill their stuff.

 

As the mother of teenage girls, what do you think? Could your teen write this clearly?  I'm doing eleven-year-old homework help, so maybe I am out of touch. 

 Is the guy who nominated it for a perfect post in marketing, himself?

 

http://samsrainbowsandunicorns.blogspot.com

 

 

 

 

 

which one is this? egad, is it the last?

TT will be no more? but.. but.. I made so many friends this way! I found so many neat people and blogs! Jeez, this isn't even my best effort! I'll just have to continue doing them and letting them wander the blogosphere, sad and lonely...

13 favorite smells.

1. Onions being sauteed in butter--the beginnings of Corn Chowder when I was a kid.

2. True Romance from Bath and Body Works. It was an old Aromatherapy product. It was herbal AND floral, but not too much of either one. I loved it, which of course means that it was discontinued.

3. The coffee aisle in any grocery store. It hits you like a wall as you round the aisle, and you just linger for a minute, even if you have coffee coming out the wazoo at home.

4. Right after a spring shower has passed, the night is so crisp and clear and there is a world of possibilities in front of you. The whole world is washed.

5. The package of Red Vines has just been opened. They are sooooo fresh and plump and filled with nothing good for you. I'll trade you some red vines for some of your popcorn....

6. I was trying to save it for last but I can't. There is no sweeter scent in the world than fresh baby, smelling like baby shampoo, and wrapped in a warm, slightly damp towel, asleep on your chest. God I want another one. Slap ME!!!!! (Okay, seriously? If I could afford it? I'd be a baby factory.)

7. Another B&BW scent, Fresh Ginger Lime. Not on me, so much, but good lord, on my Honey? Meeeow! I bought it for me, smelled like bleah in the bottle but warmed up on the skin so beautifully. The honey used it once and I could have eaten him with a spoon. So you know what THAT means. Yep. Discontinued. I stopped using it so there would be more shower gel for HIM. It's gone now (sob!)

8. The cold wet slap of the briny Ocean air. I live in Northern California. I'd like to go to a warm beach some day.

9. Pumpkin pies in the oven.

10. Warm fresh bread--brown bread, french bread, beer bread, it doesn't matter.

11. Spring time at the ball park. The grass isn't actually BEING mowed, but it has been in the last day or so.

12. My honey votes for the Country after the rain--Not the shiny streets that I adore, but the rich loamy smell of the orchards , with the leaves still dripping the occasional drop. Think sunshine on this one, as opposed to my night scene.

13. Little O chooses Daffodils, but I'm note sure they actually have a scent--we just have some blooming in the backyard and she's just learned the name--totally entranced with them. We'll have to try and make it toDaffodil Hill, in the foothills, this year.

Leave me your links in comments, because mr linky no longer has love for me, and TT is, apparently, done.

Refreshing for your very soul.

Tonight we turned off the idiot box and Little O and I danced. My kid knows the words to "Should I Stay or Should I Go" by the Clash. There are days when life could not be any sweeter.
A little Beastie Boys to jump around to.
Watching shake her derriere to "Banana Puddin'" by Southern Culture on the Skids was hilarious and depressing. She's luckily going to be a better dancer than her mother. Probably sooner than I'm ready for.
Ah, a nice round of Alvin and the Chipmunks "Witch Doctor" to finish it off... ooh, ee, ooh, ah-ah, ting, tang, Walla-walla bing-bang.

I have to find her all of that great Joan Jett girl band stuff, and some Go-Go's... A trip to itunes is in order... Worth every penny if she gets a little grrl to go with all of that freaking barbie.

Sunday quizfest

You Are Marge Simpson

You're a devoted family member who loves unconditionally. Sometimes, though, you dream about living a wild secret life! You will be remembered for: your good cooking and evading the police Your life philosophy: "You should listen to your heart, and not the voices in your head."

The Simpsons Personality Test

WHO ARE YOU SCREWING AT HOGWARTS??
created with QuizFarm.com

You scored Victor Krum. If you went to Hogwarts you would be doing Victor Krum. At least until he goes back to Bulgaria. He is strong, silent, and stupid...just they way you like it. Hey, you don't need brains to do what comes naturally! That thick slavic acent and that stern demenor, not to mention the fact that he goes to an all male school, lots of sexual frustration to be worked out on you. He had you on your back the second he marched into the Great Hall. Go ahead girl, go ahead get down...

Victor Krum 75% Draco Malfoy 65% Cedric Diggory 60% Ron Weasley 60% Fred and George Weasley 55% Harry Potter 50% Percy Weasley 25% No one, your a prude 10% WHO ARE YOU SCREWING AT HOGWARTS?? created with QuizFarm.com

Hmm, I don't know about the stupid part. But the picture sure is pretty--I can live with this answer. Interesting that the weasley twins come as a set--eew, that was not intentional.