Wow, its the 30th...

December is almost here.

And, it's a Snow Day. Uh, yeah, I like it just as much at thirty as I did at ten -- A whole Thursday to just stay home and do whatever I want.

Not that I don't have fifty million other things I should be doing, but still, stayin' home in the middle of the week is a pretty sweet deal because I've got a lot of knitting done. I've been knitting like nobody's business! Like I said before, I'd love to post pictures, but I don't want to spoil any Christmas Surprises. Once I'm done with this here batch of Christmas goodies, I'll hopefully be learning some new tricks -- maybe I'll be a better knitter by next Christmas and I can do up a set of something totally different every year; ya know, make it a habit like Grandma used to do. One year we'd all get Disney stuff, the next year NASCAR, then Craftsy stuff like quilts or birdhouses... I'll never forget the Eskimo Joe's year -- I still have the Eskimo Joe's Velcro Wallet that I'm just sure got put in my box by mistake; It's still in a dresser drawer somewhere and I'm sure there was a fe-mulleted butch cousin who was missing out on part of her Christmas gift that year. Heh heh... Part of me thought I should edit that out, but most of me doesn't care -- Must be Cabin Fever sneakin' up on me.

I do get a kick out of the Snow Day deal though, it's nice to be able to sit around in my pajamas all day and just knit and watch TV. Of course, TV sucks, so I've been back & forth between CD's and DVD's; Knitting and Snacking with Robert Earl Keen and Widespread Panic and NPR. I stocked up on yarn when they said the storm was coming, so I'm all set there -- but I wasn't anywhere near hungry when I dashed in for yarn, so I wasn't thinkin' about snacks. I'm sure that once the last of the Doritos & microwave mac-n-cheese are gone I'll be wishing I'd brought the fourwheeler home so I could sneak across the highway for some Old Town Enchiladas & Chips, but I know that even that's only good for a couple trips before people start to talk -- "Here comes that chick on the fourwheeler again, gawdamn, don't they keep any groceries at home?" I don't think we have anything ATV-ish around here that runs anymore though, and I really don't want my car out in the ice for some ay-hole to smash into. If lack of transportation can force me to eat healthy, then so-be-it.

I still say we don't have a "Fall" or a "Spring" around here -- we're always either baked or frozen. Wednesday morning when I went out to the car on my way to work, it was warm & humid and just pretty darn nice; I'm talkin' about the kind of weather that's perfectly condusive to outdoor nudity. Ten minutes later when I parked my car and got out to go into the shop, it was cold, and by the end of the day it was pretty damn frosty.

Then this morning the car was covered over with about half an inch of ice. It's in the garage now though, since nobody could remember if any of us had checked the anti-freeze. I swear, it was Mom's idea to put "The Amazing $400 Ranger" out in the snow so the SHO could melt off indoors, I didn't ask, she offered, so there it is.

I wish I could turn on the comments for this last post of NaBloPoMo, but the "post and comment options" box doesn't appear on the MacBook and I don't know why... Must be something to do with the difference between Internet Explorer and Safari or something else I haven't figured out yet. But I'm still very happy with the new Mac.

More later...

_\,,/

NaBloPoMo, TAG!

A. Post. Every. Day.

Uhm, yeah, I am kinda runnin' out of new stuff to write about; so I present a near-meme, (ripped off from Robin), here it is:

Six Wierd Things About Me:

1) Even though I'm sure there are people who are further over on the scale than I am on this, I am soooooo not afraid to admit that I am considerably nerdy. How nerdy am I? I am so nerdy, that I am tremendously enjoying the smell of my new MacBook. Seriously, I took it out of the box and openly sniffed it right here where everybody could see me, and I didn't care. It smells really good.

2) I have a hard time with second-hand moisture. Sweaty handshakes, damp doorknobs, shared hand towels and wet knobs on paper towel dispensers (I'm talkin' about the ladies' room there) freak me out. When I was a kid, my grandparents noticed; now that I'm older, it's been pointed out by several dating partners -- If I find myself damn after being kissed and luuuuuved on, if it's wet, I'm gonna wipe at it, I just am. I feel bad for "wiping it off" where the giver of said affection can see what I'm doing, but I can't stand bein' damp. You can bet that if I'm gonna give you a little kiss, I'm not gonna lick my lips first, 'cause that just ain't right.

3) I also have a considerable anxiety problem when it comes to dogs. They just make me nervous and I'd rather they didn't come near me. I've never been bitten or mauled, I just have this fear... Chavez (the little white Eskimo Dog affectionately known as "The Polish Frizbee Hound") even makes me a little antzy -- and he's our dog. The only two I can think of that don't make me completely freak out are Ruger ('cause he was just awesome, God rest his soul), and Angelina -- and I'm sure that's only because I kept twenty-pound ShadowCat from eatin' her and held her on my arm when she was eeny-teeny-tiny; she'd calmed down a lot the last time I went to G's house & saw her, and when she put her chin on my knee, it brought back a lot of memories. But I still don't want any lickin' or cold-damp-nose-pressin', nuh-uh, I guess that ties into Wierdness #2.

4) In spite of Wierdness #2, I do get a real kick out of... No, wait, I'd better not go into that here. Whups. Heh heh... Uhm, replace that with this: Whenever I log in to websites (like Blogger) and I see the check-box that says "Remember Me," I always hear Willie Nelson singing "Remember me, when the candle light is gleaming; remember me, at the close of a long, long day; It would be so sweet, when all alone I'm dreaming, just to know you still remember me..."

5) I never touched a crumb of Chinese Food until Clay took me to "The China Cafe" (on South Lewis in Tulsa). I'd just never gave in and tried it -- but now I love the stuff. I'm jonesin' for Sweet & Sour and Fried Biscuits just from typin' the words! The wierd part: I've saved all those little slips of paper out of our Fortune Cookies. They're everywhere -- in my purse, shut in my checkbook, in the cupholders in my car, in my coat pockets, on the bathroom counter where I empty my jeans pockets; and there's a huuuuge handful of 'em in that little Dooney & Bourke "Essex" key fob that's been on my car keys since about 1996. The first winning Oklahoma Lottery ticket I ever had was when the Powerball was 37 and I'd played the lucky numbers from a cookie fortune.

6) I can't bring myself to turn loose of any of my old computers. I have this insane fear of what people might find -- because I remember buyin' my first Powerbook used and finding all kinds of stuff in there, from pictures to divorce papers. That same laptop also taught me several lessons the hard way, including that yes, repair techs really can recover the shit you try to delete before you drop it off ot have it worked on. I let My Mom give away my first ol' Apple IIe from gradeschool; but that was before there were hard drives, before there was the internet. I still have my old dead 33Mhz Packard Bell, I still have my 68K Powerbooks (both of 'em), I still have my first iMac (the first of the five-color ones, it's green) even though it won't start from its own hard drive and I can't find any way to copy my files over. I hang on to 'em because I'm just sure there's somebody out there who's nerdier than me and might be able to extract files I tried to delete -- from the "novel" I started in highschool to the frightening downloads from the last few years. Yeah, I'll admit that I have some stuff I wouldn't want anyone to see -- but I'm not about to give anyone a chance to see any of it!

So there ya go, "Six Points Of Wierdness," now go write about six of yours! ;)

More later... _\,,/

New Baby!!!

How's that for a SHOCKER of a subject line?

Ah, the new MacBook... This is day two, and so far, I like it a lot. It's a total Thumbs-Up, I am a happy customer!

I even used the built-in camera to take an "artsy" picture:



Yeah, I only caught the keyboard, but ya know what? That's okay, 'cause it's one more thing I really like about it -- there's no strange smell coming up out of this keyboard like there was with my ol' iBook!

A built-in camera at the top of the screen... I guess most people would snap their own picture, but hey, it's a laptop and it's sittin' on the counter, which means I'm lookin' down at it; and that's just not a very nice picture; trust me, it's not. There's also not a very photo-worthy backdrop behind me here either.

Sharing My Birthday, and Sharing a Bit Of The Magic...

Last night as we were leaving The Crab's house (after a completely Lovely Birthday Steak-n-Cake), Clay said "Well, tomorrow's a big day, you better write about it..."

The first thing that came to mind was the little fuzzy baby that shares my birthday. Or, well, close enough -- she was eight weeks old when I got her -- she's still a small kitty, and I really can't believe she's five years old now.

Five years ago, the year I turned twenty-five, I was engaged and just about as close to shacked-up as I could be. I stayed with Dave a lot, probably more than I stayed at home with Mom. In a neat old house in the middle of a hundred and sixty acres, I had quite a bit of my stuff moved in already and the dining room table was just about covered up with flowers and "wedding stuff."

We had Shadow, the twenty-pound occasional speeyacker, and he was the baby -- he'd wait for me to open the door after I took a shower and he'd come in and rub up against me even if I was soakin' wet. He slept in our bed; usually under my right arm. Uh, yeah, he was (and still is) spoiled completely rotten. We'd talked about getting a little kitten so he'd have a "buddy," but I didn't push it -- I'd like to have a little tiny baby kitten, but if he didn't want one, that was okay too.

One morning a couple days before my birthday, we had some stupid argument about something -- I don't even remember what. I never ever got to the point that I was ready to throw my stuff in my car and leave, I never thought of giving up, but that morning I decided I'd stay the night with Mom to give us both a little rest and do a little more packing for the eventual move. As we were getting ready to leave the house that morning, he took the cat carrier. What the hell? It was the start of a near-argument. I was tired of fighting, but I asked anyway -- he said he had to go get a big ol' 'coon out of somebody's attic that day. Hello? That's Shadow's carrier, he could catch any disease in the world from whatever a "big ol' 'coon" might leave in there, so why not use the crummy carrier that's out in the barn?? I said my piece and headed on out to the car to go to work.

Dave called me at work that day and asked if I'd come stay with him that night, he said he "needed to talk to me," and that he'd bring home dinner. I went to the house as soon as I left work, and waiting for him to get there was the longest evening of my life. I'd never been so stressed about anything. I remember watching from the laundry room window as he drove up the hill; I watched him get out of the van and go around to the passenger side and then I went to meet him at the door.

I'll never forget the smile and the look in his eyes as he came up the steps with two Mazzio's Pizza boxes in one hand and the cat carrier in the other. "Happy Birthday!" and he handed the carrier to me with a crying little tiny fuzzy baby kitten inside.



She was eensy-teensy and fuzzy as could be; a tortise-shell colored ball of fluff just big enough to sit in my hand and just cute enough to steal my heart. Then I got scared. I was terrified of how Shadow would handle another cat in the house -- Shadow's a lot like me; big, green-eyed, sheds hair everywhere -- I didn't do well with extra people in the house, what if he doesn't do well with another kitty in the house? I was almost afraid to let my heart open up to her, because I was afraid she'd end up being a little snack for twenty-pound ShadowCat.

Amazingly enough, he took to her just like a "little sister," they play together a good bit. She's still got her claws, so that helps the size match just a bit; and if he gets tired of putting up with her, he just pushes her away. They're near opposites; Shadow's a snuggler and loves to be luuuved on and loves to be brushed -- Hannah's never really got past the "playful kitten stage," she refuses the brush, doesn't mind being picked up occasionally, but acts as if a good petting would be the end of her. "Don't mess me up!" She fits her name (from the Robin Trower song) quite well.



Happy Birthday, cute fuzzy little Birthday Kitty!

And, Happy Birthday To Me Too!

It's Here! My new MacBook is here, and I love it already!! It's soooooo pretty and it smells so nice!

For A Friend Of A Friend...

I just feel like I should get this out there, just in case some of my past rants have come across in a way that might have caused a bit of irritation without my intent to do so.

Like I've said in my iOnet "disclaimer" for years, I don't aim my ideas at a target of pissing people off.

When I bitch about the HoMeSkOoLeRz [tm], I'm not pitching a general bitch about all Homeschool kids. I hope the reading public understands I'm not throwing the same blanket over the whole bunch.

There are many, many families out there who are having great success with the Homeschool concept -- when I got back in touch with Andy (my Prom Date) a few years ago, one of the questions he asked as we stood in the middle of Wal-Mart catchin' up was how my brother's kid was doin'. I told him about how there were two kids now, and that I still worry about their mom getting killed or injured in a bizzarre household accident, and that they were HoMeSkOoLiNg [tm] and the whole idea scared the shit outta me.

Andy looked a little offended; "Hey, I was a Homeschool Kid!"

"Uhm, Yeah Andy, but your mom's a Teacher, their mom is an Airhead."

Andy and his mom did the homeschool thing while he was also attending Vo-Tech and working at a pretty decent job while still in highschool; best I can tell, it worked out quite well for him. He's got a good job, runs his own business on the side, makes decent money and is enough of a problem solver to make it through life's little rough patches -- I'd say he does alright, and even as his ex-girlfriend from way-way-back, I'm glad we ended up friends even if it took us a while.

Those successful intellegent Homeschool Parents and Kids aren't the ones I'm worried about. I'm worried about the eight-year-old who's puzzled by the reversible "Open/Closed" sign; of course it says "Closed" on the inside -- because we need the "Open" sign facing outside when we're Open. I'm worried about the twelve-year-old who can't read the "FRAGILE" sticker on the box that the UPS Man just brought in. I'm worried about the dad who can't spell the name of the motorcycle he wants to Google for, even though it's printed on the shirt he's wearing. I'm worried about the mom who can't spell "Area" when she's writing it on the whiteboard for the HoMeSkOoL [tm] math lesson of the day.

I, the chick who flunked out of PTA school, am worried sick about my sister-in-law -- the one who signs her name with My last name and "RN, BSN," who wants to give the kids their yearly immunizatioins at home but says she'll have to "get out a book and see where the subcutaneous is."

You can't teach a kid everything they'll ever need to know -- you have to teach 'em how to think things through and figure out the answers. If you can't even put batteries in a flaslight, are you sure you want your kids heading out into the world with only your knowledge base?

I'm not bitching about the sensible, reasonable, problem-solving Homeschool Teachers; if they're doin' it right, there's no reason to question their decision. I just don't want the future of my nation resting in the hands of anyone who's ever attempted to use white-out on a computer screen.

And for the last time, a turkey carcass is a turkey carcass is a turkey carcass. It's a picked-over turkey carcass, it's garbage and that's all there is to it. No, we are not going to save that for "arts & crafts," and nobody's going to "make a sleigh" out of it, because it's garbage. Making little Christmas Trees out of painted pinecones is cute, making little sparkly ornaments with glitter and glue and fudgepop sticks is kinda cute -- but nobody makes a sleigh centerpiece with a turkey carcass, because it's a damn turkey carcass, Santa's eight tiny reindeer pulled a sleigh, not a turkey carcass, and nobody wants the Thanksgiving garbage in the middle of the table at Christmas!! Now, throw that damn smelly thing in the dumpster! NOW!!

More later... _\,,/

Like Anybody Wanted To Read About The Hole(s) In My Head...

Well, I still haven't missed a single day!

After writing about "Lost Tulsa" yesterday, today's shopping outing included a stop at Tulsa's own one-of-a-kind Starship.

It's true what they say, the new place isn't quite the same as the two little houses over by TU; but it's still Starship. Just like the first time I ever saw the place way back in highschool, I could still go nuts in there and spend up every dime I've got. I managed to keep it under twenty bucks this time though; got the new BuckCherry CD ('cause "Crazy Bitch" is pretty damn cool) and another little horseshoe for that newest hole in my ear.

I'm wondering if I need to wait a little longer to put it in though -- I switched from the original "ear gun" stud to an older "professional ear gun" stud because it's a teensy bit bigger; and also because the original one was a prong mount which caught on my pillowcase just about every night. I finally managed to hunt up that pair of bezel mounted diamond-oids; the old style ones, ya know, from way back when there was only one kind of piercing earring.

I got my first "extra hole" in '99 just after I met David (uhm, as in before I broke up with J) because I showed up at his cousin's house about ten minutes after Dave had got his ear pierced -- "Heyyy, what'cha gonna do with the match to that?" So I took it... Nobody noticed for quite a while; but My Mom finally figured out Dave and I had both turned up with new earrings at the same time & put 2 & 2 together.

Dave was working for a plumbing company then, and they made him cover it up when he was on the clock. Band-aids don't exactly promote healing when you have to peel 'em off a fresh piercing -- so he took it out and gave up on the idea. I kept that stud in my purse for the longest time; but eventually, I ended up wearing both of 'em for a while, and then they were both in the jewelry box together, and even though I'm obsessive, I didn't keep track of which one was his and which one was mine. Not that it makes any difference, but one of 'em was turning green when I finally managed to fish 'em out -- so I scrubbed up the non-green one and stuck it in there to stretch this newest hole a teensy bit. It's still a little touchty-sore every now & then, so I'm not too sure I'm ready to hang a hoop in it just yet.

I really don't know how I wandered off into that, but I guess it's just the point of NaBloPoMo -- to sit down and write and see what all flies out. So there ya go!

More tomorrow, because Clay's a sweetie and he reminds me on the weekends!

_\,,/

Black Friday...

I vaguely remember a Psych Professor who said that "Distractability" was a desirable quality, to a certain extent. Today, I've got it.

There was a little piece on NPR this morning about The Black Keys that caught my ear while I was in the shower (yes, I'm such an NPR Addict I have a radio in my shower), and I had a blogger post on my mind, but at lunch, I got distracted.

I also got to leave work this morning and go to Wal-Mart in Skiatook (beautiful small-town-super-store they've got there) for an uncharacteristic Black Friday Experience. I've never seen My Mom willingly go out to brave the Christmas Crowds, but this morning, we did, and it was nice. That's what's nice about Skiatook; it's a "Supercenter," but it's not crowded like the others, and it doesn't have that strange smell like the one at 244 & Memorial.

Good Gawd, see? I got distracted again...

On my way to lunch, I was glad to get in the car and away from this "Country" radio station that's always on in here -- they've gone all-Christmas-all-the-time now, and it's already wearin' thin. If it was up to me, there'd be Christmas music in little bits; don't go full-on 'til a couple days before the actual 25th. I just wanna hear Cheech & Chong's Santa Claus bit every once in a while; and a classical highschool band copy of "Sleigh Ride," and I wanna hear Mrs. Holman sing "Oh Holy Night." By the way, if you found me by Googling for her, E-mail me! That's one of the things I miss the most about the little church where I grew up -- Millie Holman singing "Oh Holy Night," and I can't even remember if there was any music with it or not, there may have been somebody playin' the piano, but her voice is what stands out in my mind. When I think of that song, I think of her...

Where was I going with that?? Oh yeah!

When I was headed outta here to go get lunch, NPR was playing an interview with the guy who created DeadMalls.com. I'd just about bet that anybody near Tulsa is just like me -- when we hear the words "Dead Mall," what's the first thing that comes to mind? "Eastland!"

Sure enough, there's a page on that site for our rapidly declining Eastland Mall.

Eastland was the first mall I ever saw; the first place I ever saw a movie in an actual Theater -- which, if you care, was "My Stepmother Is An Alien," which I went to with my middle brother and his wife because Mom was not about to go near "one of those places." I remember going there on Friday Nights with Tonya and her Mom in sixth or seventh grade, years and years before I had bills to pay and shit to worry about. When I got a driver's license, it was one of the first places I wanted to go -- and come to think of it, that's where I discovered NPR. I'd got in my truck (my little black Ford 16th birthday present) and was about to head home -- I couldn't find anything I wanted to listen to, so I flipped through stations and landed on "Car Talk," and I was hooked.

Last time I was there, even though I've lost that junior-high "enjoyment of mall shopping," I was sad to see it lookin' so bad. Stepping into the ladies room was like stepping into an abandoned building -- there was barely any light, and a huge hole in the ceiling almost as if someone had fallen through. The Dillard's Outlet has some good deals on some things, but the two things I'd hoped to find cheap (Handbags & Levi's) are not there. The pet store is gone, there's no more Chic-Fil-A, and no more Cosmo's Cafe, and there's not even any evidence of the Canary & Elephant store that we were so crazy about.

And hey, remember when those ____'s crashed through the doors and made a lap in that stolen car then smashed open a jewelry store and stole all they could load up before driving back out? Heh heh... What a news story!

Anywho... Check out DeadMalls.com, and also Lost Tulsa. I'm fascinated with both of 'em!

More Later! _\,,/

Happy Thanksgiving!

"It's a major holiday, better write somethin' good..."

Well, I can't think of much that I need to say about it.

It was a good Thanksgiving -- I don't feel like I ate myself into a stupor, but I don't feel like I missed out on anything; just happy & comfy hangin' out with my people and Clay's people too. That's one of my main "Points Of Thankfulness," the comfort, the feeling of being at home, the feeling of fitting in; most of all, not feelin' like I have to worry about anything. We had a nice time; "Mama Stamberg's Cranberry Relish" was kinda fun to make, it was pretty, but I just couldn't handle the taste. My Mom didn't seem to like it much, but Clay's Dad said it was good; so that's good enough for me. I'm sure I'll just stick to the Chocolate Eclair from here on out -- seems like it's always well-recieved. If I do decide to try any more amazing new recipes, I'll make sure they're made with stuff I'm guaranteed to be willing to eat myself.

If anyone from NPR or the Stamberg Family is Googling and finds this, I hope they're not offended. Hey, at least I tried it. All those voices on the radio were saying "Ewwww" without even tasting it -- I put a scoop of it on a biscuit, took a bite, and then made a bit of a face as I handed the rest to My Mom. At least I never said "Ewwww." Ah, NPR, I love ya!

My Knitting Compulsion continues...

Oh, and I'm waitin' for the MacBook to get here! Like a kid at Christmas, I tell ya, just like a kid at Christmas!

Seeya Tomorrow, "When Black Friday Comes..."

_\,,/

Three Hairs: A Second Post In The Same Day.

It's been a while since I did a second post in a single day, but I'm kinda excited, and I ain't tellin' anybody around here.

Ya know how I said I was three hairs away from replacing the iBook?

Well, I just did.

It's almost My Birthday, Apple approved me for financing, so I went ahead and placed the order -- it's on it's way!

EeeeEeeeEeeee!!! New Macintosh!!! EeeeEeeeEeeee!!!

Thanksgiving Eve...

Well, I almost finished the third Christmas Scarf last night -- I just have to put the fringe on the other end and I'll be ready to start on the next one. I'd love to share pictures, but I worry that a couple of my potential recipients may also be blog readers... So I ain't ruinin' any surprises here. It's all I can think about -- hello, addictive personality; all I wanna do is get outta here so I can go knit.

I've done my bit of grocery shopping and I've got the stuff for the dip to take to my family get-together... Crap, I forgot the chips, I'll have to get those on the way. I also got the stuff for the uber-popular Chocolate Eclair to take to Clay's family get-together; and I'm also gonna try something totally different this year. I'm takin' "Mama Stamberg's Cranberry Relish" too, just because it sounded mildly interesting when they were talkin' about it on NPR yesterday.

I'm almost thinkin' about goin' back to the store for a spare batch of Elcair -- I could sit down with a pan and a spoon and a quart of milk and just forget about everything.

Oh, and one more thing... New MacBook: I want one so bad, I'm havin' dreams about it. The iBook is so close to death; now it's screwin' up my web browser and the html files for the dot-com. I can't get 'em to open up right at all; not from my files on the machine, and not through the web either. It's strange as can be, and I can't find anything messed up in my html, I tried editing and re-saving, I tried downloading it through FTP to get a new copy of the file and nothing works.

"Defect in the surface of the drive" -- that's what Norton's says about my iBook.

Fall of 2001 -- that's when the FedEx guy brought me my nifty snowy white iBook.

Five Years -- that's a reasonably long life for a laptop, right?

The width of three hairs -- that's how close I am to ordering a new MacBook.

More later... _\,,/

Thankful Tuesday...

Ah, the Holiday Season will officially be upon us in two more days.

Today, I am thankful for the highschool education that allowed me to see the humor alongside the worry when I read a blog comment in which someone had confused the word "Stocker" (person who stocks, or puts things on shelves in a store) with "Stalker" (person who follows someone to work or watches 'em through binoculars while hiding in the shrubbery). Someone saw a photo, and then typed "Is it stocker-ish if I get my hair cut like yours?"

Is it stocker-ish? Would that haircut make you want to be sure all the shampoo bottles were pushed to the front edge of the shelves? Would it make you get that motor oil out of the greeting card aisle and take it back to the automotive department where it belongs? Would it make you double-check the saltine crackers just to be sure that your co-worker, the dumb stocker, didn't put the macaroni-n-cheese on the wrong shelf again?

I am also thankful for the college ecucation that allows me to see the humor (and the psychology) behind the creepiness of finding out that my stalker got a job at a little store right here in my hometown.

I am thankful for the cartoon lightbulb that just came on over my head -- heh heh -- Talkin' about haircuts and my stalker in the same post! Hey, it does all tie together! At nearly sixty years old, she's got Mall Bangs and a Mullet; every time I see her hair-glow through the front window of the store, I can't help but wonder if she's stuck in 1991, or if she's just goin' for the full-on butch look.

Is my stalker stalker-ish enough to read my site? Is my stalker computer-literate at all? Does my stalker know that I saw her following me all those times? Does my stalker know just how many people I told about her puttin' that sugar into the gas tank of my little white ragtop? Does my stalker know just how many times I re-played that voicemail message, hitching and snorting and giggling? Does my stalker know about the huge laugh my friends (including an actual stocker who worked at Wal-Mart) and I had after she called me on the phone that night?

Because it's the Holiday Season, and because I know she can't help being who she is, I say "Happy Holidays, Stalker!"

Of course, part of the reason for that is the old-fashioned Southern Baptist experience, which along with my education has taught me that "Die, B!tch, Die!" just doesn't fit with the Holiday Spirit.

Ah, the old-fashioned Southern Baptist experience... I'd considered writing about that whole OJ mess or the Kramer incident; both of which I have fairly strong opinions on -- but college put enough liberalism into me to convince me not to go into that here.

Not just yet, anyway...

More Later! _\,,/

Holy Tits! Who Can I Offend Today?

Even though I am not anybody's Mom, I still get a kick out of reading what Moms have to say on the 'net. Apparently I missed Baba-Wawa's (SNL Reference right there, lol) quote that was part of quite a stir; I didn't know anything about it 'til I read Alice's piece on the topic over at Wonderland.

I know, I know, being a non-mom, it's not exactly my place to pitch my two-cents in on public breastfeeding -- But I am a member of the general public, and I do have breasts; so here's the deal: Aren't there other things to worry about besides who's feeding her baby where? Aren't there more important issues to be more concerned with than openly admitting to the fact that breasts are for the nourishment of babies and not just making more tips for Hooters waitresses??

Feckin' around with a commonly-available laser pointer can (deliberately or by accident) cause eye injuries or even blindness. Undercooked food can cause illness or death. Second-hand smoke can cause lung problems. Poorly maintained cars and distracted drivers cause crashes that injure or kill people. Now, is a baby slurpin' on a boob really going to hurt anyone???

Last night, a waiter with a poor grasp of English brought me the wrong enchiladas -- Apparently the words "chicken" and "cheese" were difficult to differentiate. It was a minor distraction; but not anything that might hurt me or make me sick; so I had cheese enchiladas instead of chicken enchiladas -- they were good anyway, so there was no reason to say anything because it was no big deal. Niether a Baby nor a Breast will hurt anyone or make anyone ill, so a nursing Mother is not really a reason to say anything either -- look at something else, you'll be fine.

As a general rule, Men like breasts. They just do. Millions of guys will buy overpriced food just because it's served by women with big tits wearing skimpy spandex clothes, they can go watch women dance naked on tables on on bars, they can even get their hair cut by women wearing next-to-nothing. Boobs are a big-money business. That's why businesses like Hooters, NightTrips, Cloud 9, Escapades, Bada-Bing's and Eye-Candy Cuts are making the money that they are. General nudity is a decent seller too -- ever watch TV late at night? Lots of guys are buying those "Girls Gone Wild" DVD's; they're such a big seller that there's a couple new ones comin' out every month! They'll pay good money to watch those methy-lookin' "Girls Gone Wild," they'll even pitch Mardi-Gras Beads at my less-than-perfect D's. Lots of guys don't even care whose boobs they are -- they just like to see 'em.

The general public sees breasts all the time -- under T-shirts or sweaters or dresses; sometimes under only skimpy bras in the Victoria's Secret TV Ads. The general public also sees babies all the time -- so what's the big problem with a breast and a baby together?

If it's okay for the TV Ads to openly show near-nudity just for the sake of sales, then it's okay for a Mom to politely feed a Baby. If it's okay for "OuterInfo" (Howdy, Google!) to show those porny chicks naked on all-fours through pop-up software that's secretively loaded onto computers, then it's okay for Moms to feed Babies.

There are other more bothersome things that need to be taken care of; If a thief is about to steal your laptop bag, and a Mom is about to feed a Baby, which would you want the Security Guard to stop first??

Peace, Love, and Good Nutrition -- More later... _\,,/

Can Sundays Be Disjointed?

I'm happy to report that at last check, the world's sweetest twenty-pound little-luvy-baby-kitty was not still sneezing.

The Awards Banquet was mildly disappointing, but having good friends to hang out with makes it all better. I've heard a few people b!tching about the food, but hey, it's down-home all-American cookout Hamburgers and Hotdogs, what's not to like about that? If I'd ended up sittin' at any other table, I might be more inclined to bitch about things, but I just can't be too unhappy about the deal after spending a lovely evening with good people. When it comes right down to it, the people make the experience -- it's not about the stuff. The Twenty Car Folks and The Thirty Car Folks have parkin' together in the pits and sittin' together at banquets as long as either of 'em's been at Mid-America; I'm comfy with 'em, just like family -- We had a great time together.

The track screwed up my last name. Again. It's on top of the car in foot-tall letters, it's on the side of my trailer in the same foot-tall letters, it's on all my paperwork... But the L and the E throw everybody off, I guess. Oh well -- it's not much of anything new, it's been happenin' for twenty-nine years.

My folks are comin' today to haul Clay's Great Red Hunter back to Sperry and see about fixin' the Deer Damage. As Clay reads over my shoulder as I type, he says "Heyyy, 'Deer Damage,' capitalized, that sounds like a band name!" Heh heh... Yeah, I guess it does. They'll probably be at that punk festival with Pot Roast and Pet Sidewinder.

Okay, now where was I goin' with that? Oh yeah... This'll only be the second time (in the year-plus-a-few-months that Clay and I have been together) that they've been to Clay's house. They came to Dave's house once (but didn't stay 'cause he was fryin' Deer Meat). That makes three times in all these years of dating that they've been to a "Debbie's Boyfriend's House." What's that tell ya? Yeah... Clay's so very in. My parents Love him.

He just left with My Car, so I guess that means he's pretty in with me too -- y'all know what an up-tight nut-job I am about that car -- and if anything happens to it, whatever happens had better be covered by some kind of big-money insurance, 'cause if I can't have my SHO, I want a Powerstroke Excursion. Or maybe a big Black Crew-Cab. Or maybe I'd just drive the little white ragtop 'til Dodge starts sellin' that new Challenger -- even though I'd never hear the end of it from the ol' man...

Anyhow, there's a post for Sunday, and I still haven't missed any!

Seeya Tomorrow!

_\,,/

Short-Post Saturday...

The "Angel Of Pet Death" visited this morning; so take a minute for 'Dolph, the First Cocatiel, Clay's first birdy baby -- the one that started it all.

It's makin' me a little paranoid about the three or four sneezes I heard outta ShadowCat early Yesterday Morning. I'll check on him when we stop on the way to Kansas this afternoon.

Other than that, there's not much else to say.

More Tomorrow...

_\,,/

Flashback Friday!

(Now with less ranting!)

Last night while I was knitting and not really payin' attention to whatever was on TV, Mom yelled down the hallway "Get Channel Eleven!"

Ah, PBS, gotta love 'em!

I'd almost missed the first half of Austin City Limits (Still not used to the new schedule), and Ladysmith Black Mambazo was on. They're full-on vocal, no instruments at all, and they're good at it. They're fascinating -- musically and visually; from the blending of amazing voices to perfectly synchronized dance in totally identical clothing, right down to the matching red socks. Those guys put on a lot of moves to still be singin' smooth & easy; I'd be too outta breath to even talk.

The first time I saw 'em was when they were on Saturday Night Live with Paul Simon, and I went right out and bought "Graceland" as soon as I could. I had the cassette and the CD was one of those first five CD's I bought when I got my first Discman around Christmas of '92. I got to watch 'em do a couple songs that were on that album, and sittin' there with a clear view of the TV and the sliding glass door that leads to the back yard, I couldn't help but think I might have stumbled onto one of those "100 Ideas For Your Blog."

Before I had a driver's license, helpin' Dad cut the two-and-a-half acres of grass was one of my favorite things for two reasons. First, it's a chance to go outside and drive something, and second, that Kubota B-8200 Diesel Tractor is Schweet.

My "Flashback" incident came after I had a driver's license, because I vividly remember poppin' the "Graceland" cassette out of the truck stereo and into the walkman before I went out to get on the tractor. I'm sure it was sometime in highschool, because I don't think I've done any mowing since I started college and got way too busy to be at home enough for it... But anyway... I drive and I sing; I just about always have; only what happened that day has made me way more careful about it.

I loved the "Graceland" album for a long time; and I still enjoy it a little every now and then. I knew it all by heart, and I had a real problem about singin' along in the truck. There's one track on there that he does with Linda Ronstadt (Uhm, not sure if I spelled that right, sorry Linda), and through my singing in the truck and my mild bit of musical experience with Highschool Band, I'd figured out that it took a lot of air to accomplish the task, but I actually could hit the notes she hits in that song -- it just came out really loud with the way I had to force my voice for it.

That lovely summer afternoon, way back when I was confident enough to ride a tractor out in the open in my swimsuit, in the daylight even; I put the headphones on, climbed up, and nestled the walkman behind me in the tractor seat. I started makin' laps around the back yard and tryin' to listen, which, with a diesel tractor, involves crankin' the volume all the way up. A few laps into the task, here came that song. I could hear the music reasonably well, but I could barely hear myself.

I sang anyway. I sang, and sang, and sang, and it was fun!

I started to get that feeling, that strange eyebally feeling that something isn't right. As I made the turns to cover the square of the back yard, I noticed that one of the neighbors had stopped hangin' clothes on the line and she was just leanin' against the post. The neighbor on the other side had stopped his smaller non-diesel-powered tractor too. My Mom was on the back patio by the glass door just staring at me like I had a bird on my head.

The song went on, and I finished up the back yard; I didn't realize what I'd done until I shut off the tractor and went in the house.

It was a "Here's Your Sign" moment before Bill Engvall ever even thought of it.

My tip of the day is this; just because you can't hear yourself doesn't mean that other people (who are not astride a Kubota B-8200 Diesel Tractor) can't hear you. I learned the hard way that even if I do manage to force it, I really can't sing like Linda. Maybe that's part of why I fear Karaoke... And believe me, I think about it every time I put headphones on -- and every time I get all road-ragey in the convertible.

More later... _\,,/

If I Had $1,540...

Eleven months at $140 a month adds up to $1,540.

I had a professor a few years ago whose story about "How Can I Be A Happy Customer?" has certainly stayed with me. That's the question I'm askin' today.

This Just In: The ol' man says that I "make it worse by the way I handle things." Oh, I'm sorry, did he not notice that this isn't a brand-new thing? Did he not notice I've been trying to "gracefully" deal with this little problem for several months???

If you paid $140 a month for someone to cut your grass, but your grass was ass-high all the time, you'd be unhappy, right? If you'd been trying since July to talk 'em into doin' something about that ass-high grass, you'd be irritated, right? If you'd had to get out there and fight the grass yourself just to get it taken care of, even though someone still wanted that $140 a month, you'd be pissed off, right?

That's where I'm at with my Health Insurance Company right now. I'm still getting Lab bills from way back in the summer -- even though my Insurance Agent/Saleslady (who said she'd "get it taken care of for me" the first two times I called) says my policy is supposed to cover $300 worth of lab work for the "Yearly Physical." If I still have to pay for everything, then why am I letting them suck $140 out of my checking account every month???

I really thought I'd got a good deal with this company -- but I guess I was right to worry about 'em when we started getting telemarketing calls from 'em a couple months after I signed up. I think they were even hiring salespeople off CraigsList; and there sure was a surge of salespeople comin' around shortly after I got my policy -- it was funny, they'd kinda melt when I'd say "Well, I already have _______ Insurance, _____ _____ beat ya to it."

Yeah, I giggled a little, but now I'm thinkin' "Oh Gawd, I bought Insurance from a shitty telemarketing company."

I'm seriously considering going to the bank for a stop-payment. Hey, if they're not payin', I'm not payin'.

More later...

Nearly Disjointed Humpday

Nobody cares what I had for lunch -- but wouldn't you care if you'd ordered a sandwich with "No Cheese" and then it had cheese on it, even though the wrapper had a "No Cheese" sticker on it and everything?

--

While I'm on the topic of food, last night we went to the Mazzio's Tuesday Night Buffet. Howdy, Google! I'm talkin' about the Mazzio's at 71st & South Lewis Avenue in Tulsa, Oklahoma. They must've been near the expiration date on a couple containers; 'cause every pizza on the buffet had mushrooms, or black olives, or mushrooms and black olives.

Outside this here Automotive Industry, I've never worked in foodservice -- only in healthcare, but lemme tell ya, in the healthcare world, we are picky-picky-picky about those latex gloves. Last night, while patiently waiting by the buffet for a pizza with niether mushrooms nor black olives on it, I watched a Mazzio's employee wearing latex gloves pick up a pan off the buffet. The pan had one cinnamon breadstick and some crumbs left in it. He carried it over to the counter in the kitchen and when he put it down, he picked up that last cinnamon stick and looked it over. He broke it in two and dropped the skinny-crusty end into the garbage can, and while still holding the other piece in his latex-gloved hand, he pitched some of the crumbs out of the pan into the garbage, and then took a bite of the piece he had in his hand. While chewing and still holding a piece in one hand, he used his free hand to pitch the cinnamon-y pan & spatula around the corner out of sight and lay out a (presumably clean) buffet pan on the counter. As he turned even more clearly into view, he popped the last piece into his mouth and grabbed the pliers to take a pizza off the oven track, and still chewing, took it to the pan he'd laid out and cut it up and put it on the buffet right there in front of me.

It was grilled chicken, and it looked good. But I wasn't about to touch it, and it was all I could do not to say something about it.

Instead, I got pudding off the salad bar and went back to sit down.

--

On a string of Food topics, have I mentioned lately how thankful I am that my teeth aren't hurting anymore? It's great, I'm happy, I'm not worryin' about when that knock-me-to-my-knees pain will come again. That empty hole is a little strange every now & then, but it's nothin' compared to hurtin'; and it's worth every payment.

--

Wow, those little bits almost went together, maybe today's not so disjointed after all...

--

I was checkin' out Fussy today, and I just noticed it's the fifteenth -- we're halfway through November and I haven't missed a day!

Also, Fussy mentioned a little teensy bit about "Songs my kindergartener son insists on hearing every morning on the way to school ("Mr. Roboto" by Styx and "Godzilla" by Blue Oyster Cult)." Now, seriously, how freakin' cool is that? I kindergarten B-O-C fan! It's like a blast from the past!! I vividly remember fallin' in Love with Meat Loaf's "Bat Out Of Hell" as a kindergartener on the way to school, sittin' on the center console in Mom's Smokey-&-The Bandit Trans-Am. There are several of those ol' 8-Track favorites that have stayed with me all these years; Clapton's Slowhand, The Eagles' Hotel California, Steve Miller's Book Of Dreams, Fleetwood Mac's Rumours -- I loved 'em then, and I still love 'em now. Same goes for the Bandit TA too.

--

I want a "Dead Fred." I just think it's cool... Heh heh...

--

See if you think there's a correlation here: The HoMeSkOoLeRz aren't here today, but the Porno Problem is here instead. Gee, I wonder if there's a connection.

--

Halfway... And Thanksgiving is sneakin' up on us too... Time to figure out what I'm gonna cook to "make a good impression."

;) More later... _\,,/

There's More?

"This message brought to you by the Church Of Jesus Christ, Motorist, Under Latter-Day Paint."

Yes, there's more HoMeSkOoL [tm] worry... I have a fascinating list of "What HoMeSkOoLeRzZ [tm] are searching for when they have free-range-Google-time, and I'd looooove to share it with y'all, 'cause there's some funny stuff in there. But I'm scared to put it here, 'cause it's exactly what they're Googling for, and they'd probably find me.

Last night, Mom was watchin' 'em, and when I got to the house, they were watchin' "Cars" for the second or third time of the day.

I saw it in the theater, and I thought it was great. I'm not usually big on "kid movies," but I really liked it, it was sweet & cute, and it made a few great points. The main part that really got me by the heart was that winning doesn't necessarily make you the best, and winning isn't the most important thing -- it's doing the right thing that's most important. I have a friend who took his four-year-old to see it, and he said the main thing he tried to explain to his kid about it was that "when he was mean, he was lonely, but when he was nicer, he had more friends." Good point, huh?

I worry that the HoMeSkOoLeRz [tm] won't get it. I worry that they won't understand the points that this movie tries to make, the important lessons it could teach a kid who thinks about things.

After sittin' through it amongst 'em last night, I'm even more concerned.

The first problem is the Parrot Factor. They're more parroty than actual parrots -- ya know how we're always tryin' to get Clay's Quaker to say "Hot Rod Bob?" We say it and say it and say it again, and the bird only repeats it once in a while. Those kids were repeating every other word that flew outta the TV. "She likes me fer muh bawdy..."

Even basic understanding got the best of 'em a couple times though -- like when the "Electrified" version of The National Anthem is playing, and the George Carlin character says "It's Hendryx, Man," the Parrot Factor kicked in and one of 'em giggled and said "It's Hundreds, Man!" Ugh.

It's not just Auditory understanding of words; I know, everybody's heard "Bathroom On The Right," and "'Scuse Me While I Kiss This Guy," but there's a problem with Cognitive understanding of phrases that scares me there too.

I don't remember exactly where we were at in the course of the movie; but a character said "It's all a bunch of lies," and the older one, the one who'll be thirteen in February, looks his ol' man straight in the eyes and says "It's a bunch of lies?? Does that mean that it's illegal???" I wanted to scream.

"It's a bunch of lies." How are we supposed to dumb that one down any lower? "It's a group of untruths" only makes it harder due to bigger words. I'm not even sure if I know how to figure out where the stupidity is coming from to meet 'em halfway on figuring the whole thing out! It's like Helen Keller walkin' through the woods tryin' to find Stevie Wonder, I tell ya...

They're the only little My-Last-Name kids there's ever gonna be, and it's got me re-thinkin' my whole Hyphenation idea. In highschool, people would ask me about MiddleBrother My-Last-Name because they remembered that guy who always had cool hotrods; and I'm okay with that. Lately, sometimes people ask me about OldestBrother My-Last-Name because he's pretty high-up in the Fire Department, and I'm okay with that. Every now and then, they'll ask me about a Sis-In-Law My-Last-Name -- which sometimes bothers me a bit, 'cause, well, I won't go into that here.

I just don't think I want anybody askin' if I'm DumbKid My-Last-Name's mom. Nuh-uh. That apple didn't fall outta My branch of this tree, no way.

Now, go get "Cars" and watch it with the kids! It's a great film!!!

Toy Nostalgia, Revisited...

A few days ago, Robin mentioned "Barbie's Feces Munching Dog," and I simply could not resist clicking the link to see what the deal was. I don't even want to think about the Google searches that might land here since I used those words, but oh well -- if I end up on the same screen with Robin's Site, I'll be in good company anyway.

Now, I get a kick outta the Barbie aisle every now and then just like any American girl -- but I'll be honest, stores haven't been the same for me since the internet came about, and I don't think I've seen this in a store, only on Amazon through that link. Apparently, the dog eats and poops -- it even comes with a "Magnetic Scooper." Now, I really don't think there's any sort of process inside a plastic dog -- so I'm guessin' they come out exactly as they go in, which is both humorous (this dog poops treats!), and alarming (and eats 'em all over again!), much like "Puppy Surprise" and "Kitty Surprise" from a few years back. Remember those? Yeah, the toy has puppies, and you can cram 'em back in and do it all over again. Terrific, huh? Just what those little low-level thinkers and HoMeSkOoLeRzZ need around the house; and I can't help but wonder how many dogs and cats were mutilated by kids who wanted the "Puppy Surprise" experience with their real family pet...

I was a biiiiig fan of Barbie; even being a near-tomboy, I had a ton of Barbies and Barbie-related stuff -- there are at least two suitcases somewhere in the garage or attic or wherever Mom stuck 'em away to. I guess the near-tomboy thing probably changed the Barbie experience a bit, seeing as how it seemed to always involve the car in one way or another. (Tell me y'all didn't see that one coming from about a mile out.) Many, many of my childhood memories include Barbie -- from gettin' one from Santa at the big family gathering every Christmas except the year my folks split up, to watching my brothers tie one onto a kite and fly her, which ended with lots of crying and a horrific crash into a dry pond bed. Actually, I'm pretty sure that was a "Darcy" doll though -- remember her? She was like Butch-Dyke-Barbie; she was girly, but she was bigger, and jointed like Ken, and she had silver high-heel shoes that were big, like the same size as Ken's blue-n-white tennies... That's probaly why she was chosen to fly the kite, 'cause she was big & tough. Heh.

I've never been a "dog person," but I'll be honest, that Barbie-with-Dog listing made me a little curious, even if it is just because it's only been four or five years since I took that cat down off my shelf and stuck it away in a box. Puff... Or Fluff... Crap, I can't remember which name they used -- one of 'em was My Grandma's cat, the other was the Barbie cat, but anyway, Puff or Fluff, whichever, was a totally cool Barbie Accessory, and it was way more "properly proportioned" than Barbie herself. I think it was Fluff... Yeah, it wasn't Puff, was it?

Fluff the cat was fairly large, about as tall as Barbie's knee -- in real life, very few breeds of housecat are knee-high to a five-foot-six-inch woman. Fluff the cat was way too big to reasonably sit or lay in Barbie's skinny little lap; the cat's body was about the same girth as Barbie's disproportionate little waist. With or without Barbie, Fluff was a cool toy, especially for a hard-core Cat Lover. She was white, but not just white plastic, she was flocked, fuzzy plastic; with pretty Green eyes, and she was almost fully jointed except for her stiff tail -- she could strike all the kitty poses except for the licking-my-own-junk pose. (Uhm, yeah, hi Google) She came with her own little pink cat carrier, food bowl, brush, bed, and even a fuzzy flocked pink scratching post -- it was fuzzy because each of her paws had a little circle of Velcro, the scratchy kind, so it was like she had real claws and could stick to things with 'em.

Back in the day, the Barbie Cat was cool...

That's why I could not resist checkin' out the new-and-current Barbie-and-Cat package that was also listed on that Amazon page.

The picture shows a non-blonde Barbie (okay, that's cool) with a Siamese-colored kitty (very, very cute) and a little handful of accesory-type-stuff...

Scroll down and read the product description. Seriously. The New Barbie Cat drinks and pees. I'm stunned; now when I'm about to say something like "It's so hot out here, I'm drinkin' and peein' like a cheap babydoll," I'll have a new option; I can say "Barbie Cat" instead of "Cheap Babydoll!" Heh heh... I ain't kiddin', it really does say that the set "Comes with a kitty litter box, bottle, cat litter in a variety of colors, litter scooper, cat food bowl and cat toys." Cat litter in a variety of colors! Woo!! Ain't life grand?

Non-Blonde Barbie, apparently her name is "Teresa," has an important selling point of her own -- "Teresa scoops ups litter clumps in the litter box." Well, if that's the case, Teresa's comin' home with me, Proofreading-be-damned! I'll leave GI Joe out for her to mess around with every now and then, and she can keep the catbox cleaned out so I won't have to mess with it! He1l yeah, and at $17.33, she's a whole lot cheaper than that electric-powered Littermaid litter box! Hmmm... I wonder if she'll make sure they don't speeyack on the bed when I'm not home...

See there? Ya never outgrow the imagination... Or was that smartass? Well, I never outgrew either one of 'em. ;)

Not An Actual Professional Review, But...

We had a great time last night... The little Italian Restaurant wasn't the best-thing-ever, but it was alright -- fun conversation is a lovely distraction from underwhelming food. In true Food Cult fashion, we chatted about everything from cars to work to HoMeSkOol; and even that billboard out on the highway that says "Birth Control is Dangerous!" Sorry, I'm NOT about to link to that site that was printed on the sign -- I don't think Birth Control is Dangerous; I've found it quite handy myself. One of my fellow Cult members had seen the site and reported that it claims that The Pill causes people to do terrible things because it supposedly takes away the consequences, and blah-blah-woof-woof. I really don't think it's brought about any changes in my moral character; it hasn't made me run out & bang anybody, it's just reducing my chances of developing certain tumors and making my "Aunt Flo"s visits easily predictable. No Evil there, huh?

Anyway... Uhm, that was a rabbit-chase. Back to what I signed in to write about...

Theatre Tulsa's production of S. E. Hinton's "The Outsiders" was fascinating. Still amazed by the fact that I'd managed to get four seats in the front row of the center section, we were even more amazed by how close we actually were. When they put on "Rumble Fish" at TU, there was about an eight-foot gap between the front row and the stage -- At the PAC, we were close enough to touch the stage and lookin' eye-level right at feet and ankles.

The opportunity to get involved in something so magical in Highschool Drama has to be completely amazing... When I read in the paper that most of the actors were still in highschool, mostly sophomores, I wondered if it would be like watching Ruthie & the twins on "Seventh Heaven," but thankfully, it was not. I was a little concerned there'd be some of that near-reading we used to see when I was in school, ya know, where there's almost no expression and you're dying to finish the sentence for 'em 'cause it's like torture watching 'em struggle.

Those kids were amazing. Just amazing. I'll be honest, I'm a bit of an obsessed fan -- I loved the book, I loved the movie, and I still get 'em out every now and then. I guess it all got started because when we watched it in the library in middle school, we could actually see a little bit of the building we were sittin' in when they got to the scene at Tastee-Freeze. Along with several notable home-town-Tulsa landmarks, the parts store where my brother worked was easily visible in the scene filmed on Main Street in Owasso. It was great to see a whole different group of actors present their take on such a classic -- and I know this might sound a little crazy, but there were times I almost forgot how close we were, and actually locked eyes with actors a couple times - which really shocked the sh!t outta me!

It was a great play; I really enjoyed it even though there were a couple little teensy bits that got left out... But seriously, I can't fault 'em for leavin' out the line about Gorilla Cookies.

I'd originally got the four tickets for opening night, but I had to exchange 'em a couple weeks later. I was stunned to find I was still able to get the front row, I wondered if maybe there wasn't much interest in it -- but the theater was full. I sat next to a fellow fan, and she gave me a card with a link to her site. Ya know how I said I was an obsessed fan? Well, I used to think I was the only one who loved that story so much... I am soooo not alone, the magic reaches sooooo far -- she'd made the trip to Tulsa all the way from Alabama to see the play. Last year, when the "Complete Novel" DVD came out, she'd made the trip to be here for the showing at a Tulsa theater -- the showing I didn't know anything about until I saw the article in the newspaper afterward.

I'm seriously thinkin' about tryin' to make it back to see it again, even if I do end up goin' alone.

And if Nicholas Foster was shocked by the guy in the front row who yelled "Do It For Johnny, Man!" when he came out to take a bow, well, uhm, Hi, I'm that guy's girlfriend... And I'm very thankful it was during the bow & applause instead of during the play itself.

;)

Jolly Ranchers or Cotton Candy?

"Don't forget to Blog today," Clay says, as I'm headed out the door to make sure My Car Alarm didn't get set off in the night again...

Uh, Oh yeah, every day for a month.

I really don't think I should do another "disjointed" just yet, but I'm havin' a hard time comin' up with content today.

I know, I know, I should just write about what's on my mind -- but other than having vivid, odd dreams a few nights in a row, there's just not much on my mind.

Well, okay, I do have this one little issue that I'm kinda dealin' with, but I really don't want to go into it on the 'net, because, surprisingly enough, goin' into it on the 'net was what got me into it to begin with. But I'm... Not... Just not goin' into that again.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm an opinionated bitch sometimes -- 'cause I say what's on my mind. Whups.

So, Jolly Rancers or Cotton Candy? Nah, forget 'em both, I think I'm gonna go get a cheeseburger.

Oh, and tonight, we're gonna go have dinner and see a play, with my Cult! So I'll have something to write about tomorrow!!

Seeya then! _\,,/

Friday-Friday-Friday! It's Dis-Joint-Ed Friday!!!

Well, about 7:45 this morning, I had all kinds of amazingly fascinating ideas for today's post, without even resorting to describing the disturbing dream I had last night... But now that I'm not rubbin' shampoo in my hair, they're all just gone and I don't know what happened to 'em.

I'm probably in the shithouse with the HoMeSkOoL PaReNtZ now. I was chattin' with a friend about how they're the only little My-Last-Name's there's ever gonna be, and I worry that they're not thinkers. I was sharing the Fary-Jeel-Ay story from a while back and sayin' that it scared me to death; and the younger one popped up from around the counter, he'd been listening to the whole deal.

Whups.

But I'm not too worried about it -- I'm pretty much willing to stand up for what I think, and I'm willing to explain it to their mother if I have to. Now, if I can just figure out how to "dumb it down" enough...

Other than that, there's just not a whole lot goin' on.

I'm just waitin' like a kid at Christmas for my UPS Package to get here.

More later... _\,,/

Viva Food Cult!!!

For several years, I was not the type for "Wednesday Night Church," but I've been getting a little more involved these last few months. I miss my Sunday Mornings, and I'm hoping to make it back soon, especially now that Racing Season is over.

I've enjoyed the little Wednesday Night get-togethers a lot more than I thought I would; we work our way through a page or two of a nice little Bible Study book, chat a little, and it's just a really nice time. I'm sure part of the reason I like it is because even as a "loner," I like to have at least a little bit of "time with people" every now and then -- ya know, not just the day-in-day-out retail public. It's almost always an interesting discussion, and I like it.

Last night wasn't any different; nice time at church, drive-thru for Mc-Dinner, and a little time with friends. I've never been to their house without havin' a nice time. They're good people, and I love spendin' time with 'em -- just hangin' out. We ate dinner, and laughed and joked about all kinds of stuff; I ended up gettin' home about a quarter 'til midnight and it didn't bother me at all. I figured if I lost a little sleep, it was worth it 'cause I'd had a great time just bein' with folks who are fun to be with.

I drove home carefully, went in the house quietly, and went to bed uneventfully. This morning, I was awake before the alarm and made it to work on time without a problem.

And then My Mom said she was "worried" because this whole church thing was "looking like a cult."

Like A Cult. Yes, it's just horrifying to think that voting adults would leave a Church at the end of Wednesday Night Services to climb into their perfectly legal insured cars to go to McDonalds, where they'd use the drive-thru to order cheeseburgers and fries and chicken, and even fried cherry pies. It's just frightful to think that they'd sit down at a table in a dining room and say things like "Want anything from the fridge?" and "No thanks, I've got a Diet Dr. Pepper," or ask each other such awful questions like "Are those the custard pies?" or "I haven't seen our other friend in a while, how's he doin'?" Oh, the horror doesn't end there, would you believe that people actually finished up with dinner and put the empty containers in the garbage can? It's just stunning to think that people would actually spend time with one another, checking out an "Evoloution Of Dance" video on YouTube and chatting about such absurdly frightful things as Bad Poetry, Podcasts, Cars, Movies or Television. In a shocking twist of horror, people would actually cuddle a baby and attempt to get him to smile or giggle; and even crack open a "Veggie Tales" software package to make up invitations for a toddler's birthday party! Oh, The, Horror! The "Cult" also had the nerve to look at and talk about collectibles and toys, and to even plan to go to dinner at an Italian Restaurant before seeing a stage production of a local author's work the following weekend! It just is terrible, isn't it?

I Love My Cult! And by the way, the Cult has nothing to do with me being a sarcastic b!tch sometimes... But we laugh at that too.

When there are 12-or-13-year-old HoMeSkOoLeD kids gettin' dumped out at "church" on Wednesday Nights only to pile in a car with some highschool kid and leave to go run around 'cause Mom's not there to say no, I really don't think people in their twenties or thirties are doing anything worthy of worry by having junk food for dinner and sittin' around talking for a while.

We weren't drowning kittens or bleeding out goats or hacking the tails off small woodland creatures; we are not a "Cult."

I guess that's just the magic of working with Family -- any other job wouldn't care what I did the night before. Working anywhere else, I probably wouldn't give a damn what my co-workers kids were doing either.

If you've got good kids, no matter how young or old they are, I hope you appreciate 'em.

More later... _\,,/

Not Much...

Wednesday, Humpday, Yawn.

I made the commitment to post every day though, so even though it's a short one, I've gotta share something that made me giggle.

I remember when the "Terminator" movies were new, I remember Arnold from before he was elected to office.

As long as I can remember, everybody has pronounced it "Schwartz-en-ay-ger" or "Schwartz-in-ey-ger" or "Schwars-uh-nay-gur."

This morning, NPR's election coverage prounounced it "Schwartsnigger." I thought it might be a goof-up, but then there it was again! Like they were just trying to throw that word in there right out loud for junior-high-style sh!ts & giggles!

"Schwartsnigger."

Yeah, I did giggle a little bit...

--

I keep wantin' to get home so I can knit some more, and with it bein' sooooo nice outside, I'm thinkin' about knitting on the back porch.

A couple minutes ago, I took an order for a taillight that had probably been on the shelf since the Regan Administration; and I was really happy to get outta here even for the five minutes it takes to go to the Post Office and back. Does that tell ya anything about how boring today has been?

--


Oh, but I did give in to temptation earlier today. I did it, I just gave right in and did it, 'cause it was a better deal than I could find anywhere else, and 'cause it was somethin' I've been wantin' for quite a while. I got it on Ebay's "Buy It Now," and now I'm waitin' for the UPS man like a little kid waitin' for Santa! I'm finally gettin' one! It's coming! It'll be here any day now!

Weh-Hooo!! My BLACKBERRY is on it's way to me!

Oh man, I really am just a geeky-nerdy-dippy Junior-High kid myself, aren't I?

More later... \,,/_

My Ovaries Made Me Write This...

Last night during to "Millionaire," I got quite a bit done on that pink & purple scarf that I'll probably get to buy back at the next garage sale. Heh. Sorry, couldn't resist throwin' that one out there one more time, just 'cause it makes me giggle. The colors aren't near as obnoxious as I thought they'd be...

Since I wasn't really interested in sitting on my bed to knit (a, it's not that comfy to sit "indian-style" for very long, and b, cats and yarn just don't really mix well), I stayed in my comfy chair after the show went off and the CMA Awards came on even though I'm not really a "country" music fan.

When it comes to Country, I love the obscure stuff, the stuff that doesn't get played on the radio around here (Joe Ely, REK, Charlie Robinson, James McMurtry and the like) and the stuff out of the seventies that's cycled out of radio's attention span -- I'm sure I'm Bobby Bare's youngest fan.

I'm not a a big fan of the popularity contest that the Award Shows put on either; when somebody wins some award, but can't be there to accept it 'cause he's in drug & alcohol rehab, that's just icky. When the guy who reads the "letter" and accepts it for him has greazy hair and creepy eyes that make him look like he might be in need of a little rehab himself, that's just takin' it from bad to worse.

For the most part, my opinions of "new country" or "top-40 country" (or whatever they're callin' it lately) fall in line with what Hank 3 said -- "Pop country really sucks."

But... I am such a sucker for a sweet little Love song.

I don't think I'd ever heard "She's Everything" until Brad Paisley came out on stage and sang it last night, and I really liked it. It was really sweet and really pretty, and I ain't ashamed to tell ya, it was all those sweet things the girly-girl in me wants to hear, and it made me get all teary-eyed right there in front of the TV. It was so sweet... And then they put the camera on his wife, and she was like a statue. Glassy-eyed, no smile, no nothing, it didn't even look like she was looking at him, she was just zoned-out with no reaction at all! Come on! I don't even really like this guy and I'm tryin' not to cry! She's married to him and he's singin' it right to her, and she's not even showing a crumb of emotion! Hello?? Is she in there??? Is she having a seizure? A stroke? A sudden hearing loss??

Do we need to call the medics for her, or is it something they couldn't help her with?

"...She's a warm conversation that I wouldn't miss for nothin'..."

Maybe she's just one of those girls who reacts just right to make guys afraid to Love anybody...

Okay, okay, I'll quit b!tchin' and go back to work.

_\,,/

One More On Dream Interpretation...

Last night I dreamed I was working backstage for a talk show; and part of my job was to make sure guests were ready to go on. Kool-Aid Man, the big pitcher (c'mon, y'all remember Kool-Aid Man) was one of the guests about to head for the stage for his interview. Instead of hard plastic, he was made of inflated nylon fabric, and he was losing air because there was a chip in the rim of his pitcher, which I fixed with clear tape just like we use to ship out packages, and I sent him on his way.

Why on earth would I dream about Kool-Aid Man?

Oh, wait, I know exactly why.

I had a dream about Kool-Aid Man because I'm sick and tired of these damn political ads. I'm sick of hearing 'em one after another either attacking someone or saying someone attacked them.

Gawd, I thought I was sick of the Toby Keith Ford Truck Ads. I thought those Oklahoma Lottery Ads were irritating... Can you believe they actually cut five minutes off the local newscast for political ads when there's not even any reasonable way to tell who's a liar and who's not?!? They're runnin' 'em one right after another! Attack-Defense-Attack-Defense, ENOUGH ALREADY! Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if we could make heads or tails of it all; but when it's all just a bunch of yelling back & forth, "You Did ____" and "No, I Did Not ___!!!" it just wears really thin.

I'm sick and tired of hearing about who does what or does not do whatever about illegal immigration, who's for or against Gay Marriage, who's raising or lowering taxes, who did or did not sign some bill to spend tax money on whatever, who used to campaign for that dumbdick John Kerry, or who's seen who drowning a litter of puppies in the neighbor's swimmin' pool; 'cause maybe they only said that about their opponent so the opponent would have to spend their money to make yet another commercial to deny that they were ever near the pool and make sure we all know they'd never drown puppies.

I'm sick of it all! I want the ordinary commercials back! Sell me trucks, cars, crummy movies, internet access, cat food, ice cream, prescription drugs, pizza, beer, next season's sh!tty TV shows, log cabins, solar-powered heat and air, or even feminine hygene products at dinner time! Anything! I'm sick of campaign ads!

I'd even settle for the Quizno's SpongMonkeys...

More later. _\,,/

This Post Almost Had A Picture In It...

Ah, it's Sunday... Here I am, writin' 'cause I'm tryin' to fill the whole month with a post every day.

Otherwise, I really haven't done much but watch a Billy Bob DVD and eat a handful or two of stuff I probably shouldn't have -- it's after 1:00 and I'm still sittin' around in the clothes I woke up in.

I have managed to do a little more knitting; I've all but given up on the idea of making a hat to go with Mom's Christmas Scarf -- yesterday I discovered a couple loose pegs in my Knitter, and even though I tried to work around 'em, I ended up scrappin' the whole idea and rolling my yarn back in to a ball so I could super-glue the Knitter. I started again this morning and got to almost exactly the same spot and broke the yarn. I'm not sure how to try to fix it, other than starting all over again -- So I tossed the whole mess in a bag and got out the Pink & Purple (along with a different Knitter) for another Christmas Scarf.

I realize I may be making this one for a reason that's not quite right... But what the he11, it's not like she hasn't gifted (or re-gifted) some real ringers to me over the years. A couple years ago, she gave me a broken Avon Christmas Lamp (that was on her bookshelf the year before) for my Birthday. That's why I really don't feel bad about making her a scarf from the "loud colors" department just to satisfy my knitting addiction -- because she'll probably forget about where it came from and sell it at the next yard sale.

I was going to post a picture, but that particular "feature" isn't working. Again.

Maybe I'll just go knit some more...

More Later. _\,,/

City Auction Report...

Well, I got away cheaper than ever this time. For thirty-six bucks, I filled the trunk of the SHO. I really only wanted the transcriber and the projector, but they'd lumped quite a bit of other stuff (crap nobody wanted to bid on) in with 'em, so I got a few little bonuses. I think there's a 56K modem in there somewhere too -- Yeah, now that every computer I own has one built-in and we've got high-speed at work; I've got a spare 56K layin' around.

We also had a few interesting moments watchin' the security guards chase kids outta the place.

Speakin' of kids... At least I didn't get kicked at the hockey game last night.

I had a Rant on my mind, but the more I think about it, the more I hesitate to write about it because I feel guilty for not doing more toward fixing the situation at hand.

I'm still processing that one, we'll see if it makes it to the keyboard sometime soon.

For now, I'm just playin' on the 'net with Clay's RocketKeet sittin' on my wrist. He seems to tolerate the typing a lot better than I'da guessed he would.

More later... _\,,/

Finally Friday!

Well, since I'm posting every day, I feel I should at least maintain a little continuity from yesterday... Last night was anx-free; I slept like a basket of fuzzy little baby kittens, which is fitting when you consider that twice last night, I stirred a bit to find my little Hannah Kitty under the blanket in a curled-up little ball pressed against my knee. When a critter that has a built-in fur coat is willing to get under a blanket, you know it's cold. Ah yes, winter is here.

It's not that we don't have heat, it's just that I'm not the one in charge of the thermostat. It seems to work out easier that way -- I don't mind sleepin' with socks & sweatpants on if it means I'm gettin' b!tched at a little less.

"You Kids Stay Away From That! Don't You Dare Touch The Thermostat!!!"

Well, okay, I'm almost thirty now, I might be able to get away with it -- but I still usually leave it alone and just don't mess with it. I don't move it, anyway...

In the summer, when it starts gettin' a little warm in the house, I've been known to use a little trick my middle brother showed me. Put your hands on the wall and your mouth to your hands; think hot thoughts and blow hot air into the thermostat -- it tricks the AC into coming on. And hey, when Mom yells about it, it's totally honest to say "I didn't touch it!!!"

I thought about fixin' a cup of ice to trick it into some heat last night, but to tell ya the truth, it was a lot easier to just grab those sweatpants and get back under the blanket. Uh, yeah, I guess I'm too lazy to open a door & walk six feet to the thermostat -- but that would've put me in the cold air a lot longer than the two feet I had to reach across to get my warm pants!

See? I'm not lazy, I'm a thinker.

More later... _\,,/

A Minute For Sharon Mae...

I had strange dreams last night; and I need to make a couple calls to check on a couple friends to make sure their families are alright. Don't worry, I'm not gonna dial anybody up and say, "I had this dream that you..." Nuh-uh, that's not cool. I already worry about what a shitty friend I am 'cause the voicemail picked up when he called to tell me his Mom had died -- I'm not even bringin' anything like that up; I'll just call to say "Hey" and check in.

What really got me was that I woke up all panic-y after that -- I should know that I'm likely to believe the crap of my nightmares; after all, I'm that chick who nearly pis$ed the bed at twenty-something becuase I'd dreamed that an old friend of mine was dead in my bathtub. It took me about an hour to wake myself up enough to realize it was a dream, just go pee already. Shhh, don't tell anybody, but hey, I'll believe almost anything ya say to me when I'm half-asleep; so apparently I'll also believe anything my dreaming mind tells me too. Oh yeah, I should get in touch with her too...

Fighting off the panic-ish feeling for what seemed like forever ('cause that's how it is, it feels like forever when I'm in the middle of it), I was in the can fighting off Taco-Bell's-Revenge (probably part of what woke me up to begin with) when my alarm went off. I really thought I'd made one of those "healthier choices" gettin' 'Bell instead of McD's, but apparently not. When I ordered my Chicken Quesadilla & Cheese Nachos, I really thought I was doin' better than the bag of fried garbage I'd usually get at a burger joint. Not so. Seven dollars and forty two cents for a dinner that gave me the shits -- I could've ate cheaper and not got sick if I'd got Clown Chow instead; but oh well. Eating it at 8:30 might not have been a good idea either, but anyway...

If that's not enough, my "Horoscope" for today said something about "Tonight: Like There's No Tomorrow." One of these days I'll learn to avoid that crap too.

Since I was up earlier than usual, it worked out okay for me to actually do somethin' with my hair (instead of just comin' to work straight outta the towel like I usually do) and get dressed halfway "nice" just in case Dad wanted me to go with him to that funeral. Gawd, funerals are really somethin' -- When Grandma died, it didn't really hit me 'til a couple days later, when I got to lookin' through my wedding stuff and thinkin' about how she was the only one who was excited about it. I cried at the funeral, yeah, but it was mostly from watchin' what My Dad was dealin' with -- and his bitchy sisters cried too, but I'm sure that was mostly from knowin' they were each one step closer to the front of the line to get on the bus to hell. Uh, yeah, I'm still not over what they were doin' to their Mom...

I know it's awful, but a little part of me kinda hoped I might get to be there just in case I had the chance to make the difference between a Dallas/Dynasty hair-pullin' screechy cat fight and a full-on teeth-rakin' jersey-rippin' Hockey fight.

There's only a teensy little part of me that feels bad for thinkin' about how fun it would be to catch that ol' bag mouthin' at My Dad and just take her to the floor and start beatin' the sh!t out of her, whether she'd got the last hot roller out of the back of her hair or not, I'd just take her and shake her 'til all of Grandma's jewelry fell out of her orifi. Did I spell that right? Orfices? Orifi? Oh well...

Yeah, maybe that makes me a bit of a horrible b!tch -- but hey, When In Rome...

More later... _\,,/

PS: Here's a tidbit that my more "obsessive" readers might get a kick out of: It's NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month), and even though I remember NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), I did not participate. Way, waaaaay back when I got my first PC (yes, I actually had an IBM PC in my house years ago), I'd started on a little "Novel" project. Even though it never really went anywhere; here I am, several years later typin' on that same keyboard. The very same keyboard. I guess it's a good thing I didn't toss that ol' IBM out when Y2K killed it, 'cause we were glad to have this spare keyboard when we had to replace the dead terminal on this end of the counter.

So, if you need parts like a 2400 Modem or a 5.25" floppy drive out of a 33 Mhz first-of-the-Intel-machines Packard Bell, e-mail me... Heh heh...

Disjointed Wednesday...

Last night I dreamed about reading blogs. Yeah, seriously.

--

A few minutes ago, I answered a question, only to be told I must be confused. Then I listened as someone else was asked the same question and gave the same answer; only the response was "Oh, Okay." I can't for the life of me figure out what the difference was; but for some reason, I keep hearing that Monty Python bit with "Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis..."

--

Yeah, I just said "Penis" on the internet. Huh-oh, I said it again and capitalized it!

--

We still have the pop-up problem, and amazingly enough, all the screen-captures I've saved on the desktop keep disappearing. Hmmmmm... But he "doesn't know how to do that," oh, noooo, he wouldn't delete things, no way.

--

If your last name was Williams, please promise me you wouldn't name your kid William.

--

Even though Halloween was uneventful this year, there's something about that smell of a huge bag of candy. Even the cheap non-chocolate candy -- it just smells good. I'm chewin' a piece of pink bubblegum right now, and I know that at 29 that's not exactly a "real treat" anymore like it was at 5 or 6, but I haven't forgot what it was like to walk around in need of dental work -- so it's nice to just chew some gum and not worry about whether or not it's gonna hurt like he11. Ah, just a little thankfulness for the little things.

--

I know that product promotion isn't the main goal of blogging, but these crackers are really good... I hate to admit, I only tried 'em 'cause Sharon had those adorable pictures of her rabbit with the box -- but they're good. Annie's Chocolate Chip Bunny Grahams are just really really yummy!!!

--

I'd show ya the "Yard Rabbit," but this PC is having picture problems...

--

Have I mentioned lately how bad I want a new MacBookPro?

--

More later... _\,,/