Rapier's Wit

I felt this would be fitting for the start of the Valentine's Day frenzy. Even without the lyrics, it's easy on the ears. And if you're fortunate to be with someone who rocks your world; well, put on this tune and rock THEIR world. Like many Bryan Ferry/Roxy Music songs, I am drawn in by the melody. Sadly, I'm usually incapable of understanding a lick of lyric. This is particularly one song that I have never managed to sing except for "slave to love...slave to love." Seriously, is there any need for more? If you are in the 'bow-chicka-bow-bow' frame of mind, I doubt you'll care about the lyrics. However, just in case you're a curious cat, here are the lyrics. Sing along. You know you want to try. Tell her I'll be waiting In the usual place With the tired and weary There's no escape To need a woman You've got to know How the strong get weak And the rich get poor Slave to love (repeat) You're running with me Don't touch the gr...

In my 42 years I have experienced very few palatable or romantic Valentine's Day. Looking at the calendar and seeing its approach has always given me a slight case of hives. I nauseatingly gaze upon the beautifully wrapped, scarlet, heartshaped boxes at Fannie May. My eyes fixate with cynicism at Hallmark's windows adorned with cherubs and stuffed animals. My acid reflux nags at my gut to see Victoria's Secrets showing off the boudoir delights. Miss Vickie seduces us with the illusion that she has what we need for a perfect romantic romp in the satin sheets. Quite frankly, if I don't already possess that which would make it a perfect boudoir bonanza, then all the lace and underwires in the world won't be of much service. As my former husband always told me (when he couldn't bring himself to spend the money on lingerie), "it's all going to end up in a heap on the floor anyway. What's the point?" I'm attempting to keep a positive attitude ab...

Love this song

So, I admit that I'm in love with Rick Springfield . I'm not a rabid, psycho fan, but he's dreamy to infinity. With this post, I also have to admit that I receive the Oprah Newsletter in my e-mail. I don't care what you think. You can laugh and jeer. I'm sharing what information was nestled in that newsletter. A link, my dear friends. A link to the possibility (slim and none) of meeting and greeting and possibly sniffing up on RICK SPRINGFIELD ! There you have it. It's there. The link. Go on and click on it. Submit your fantasies about Dr. Noah. Tell Oprah-girlfriend how much it would mean for you to be in the presence of the hotness that is RICK SPRINGFIELD !!! Mmmmm ... bask in his beauty, ladies. There he is. I might need a moment to gather my composure. Let me just add that if you are selected to the appear on Oprah with the god-like image that is RS, you have to invite me. I'm not far from Chicago. I'll drive! I'll keep my panties on. I swear I...

Just an old fashioned love song Playing on the radio And wrapped around the music is the sound of someone promising they'll never go. You'll swear you've heard it before As it slowly rambles on and on. No need in bringing em back Cause they've never really gone When I read the last phrase I ask if it's the songs or the lovers who've really never gone. Considering my own situation, I let the latter theory apply. Although, I think our friends of Three Dog Night are telling us love songs never having departed. The beauty of music is that we can interpret it in whatever fashion we choose. Not unlike an abstract piece of art; music lets us decide how it suits our emotional needs. Blue Eyes called me last night. I wish that I could blame his Riss Radar, but this was my unintentional fault. Along with my sister, I am joining the Relay for Life walk for the American Cancer Association. The event is not until June, but I wanted to alert friends and family of my affili...

This is a nifty game-ish thing I swiped from a friend of a friend's blog. Their blogs are really quite something to read if you're interested: Calliope's Creating Motherhood and Lydia Valentine and the New Wave Here's the fun part: 1. Click on this link . The title of the page is the name of your band. 2. Click on this link . The last four words of the final quotation on the page are the title of your album. 3. Click on this link . The third picture is your album cover. 4. Take the pic, add your band name and album title and tada! (this final step requires photo shop or other image editing software) Let me know in the comments if you created one. If you don't have the software for such time passing leave your results in the comments. Tell me the name of your band, the album title & describe your cover art. We'll have an imaginary blogapaloooooza. Here's my creation: I am so delighted with the results of my particular album cover. Love it! The album ti...

Friend Lydia has issued a homework assignment. I'm always up for a challenge or dare (within reason). So, here's how it is to be played out: Go to your iTunes and shuffle your playlist. With the first five songs write something about it--a memory, why you like the song, does it remind you of someone? Was it a freebie download and you're cheap so you take anything that's free? You get the idea. Now, here we go...... ::shuffling the playlist::: 1. Afterglow - INXS (With J.D. Fortune ): I watched the entire reality show Rock Star: INXS and picked J.D. out of the bunch early on. However, I fell in love with Jordis Unga's rendition of Man who Sold the World . Brilliant! I have that downloaded, too. It's not in the first 5 songs to play, though. I wonder whatever became of Ms. Unga. I thought Marty Casey was super, but not right for INXS. He's still with his band Lovehammers . I highly recommend Trees. On the show, he did a wicked cool cover o...

There is freshly fallen snow here. It's beautiful, but quite frankly I have grown disgusted with the cold. My persistence in complaining about it is futile. I realize that Mother Nature and I don't see eye to eye regarding the weather in the Midwest. If all I had to do was sit by the window and bask in the beauty of the crystals twinkling in the sunlight, I would be happy. However, I have duties as leader of this household--slacking off is not an option. Man-cub languidly clomped down the stairs . With a slump in his gait, I awaited him with open arms, " let momma give the little man hugs ." Standing, he fell into my embrace and declared, " little man who is taller than his momma, you mean ." UGH! Too much reality before caffeine had been injected. Today is my day off. On the days I don't have to primp and preen for work, I take the Man-cub to school. With temperatures being as low as they are (-2F), I didn't want to make him stand in the even more ...

Thanks to my friend Lydia , I have been tagged and instructed to list 6 non-important things, quirks, habits about myself. I'll do my best to fulfill my duties: 1. Despite my age of 42, I still possess one baby tooth in my mouth. I think it's fate's way of allowing me to hold on to a part of my childhood....permitting me to be child-like from time to time. 2. I've been celibate for what is going on 3 years. (close your mouth...you'll let the flies in). 3. In 2006, I played a set of enchanted draperies in our local community theatre's production of Beauty and the Beast. With a 5 foot curtain rod attached to my shoulders, I had to maneuver down the theater aisle and on stage. 4. I can't sleep with anything on my feet. 5. I refer to PMS as "my bio-rhythms are a bit off" as not to appear politically incorrect at work. 6. If I could choose a career (what I do now is a job), I would be a writer or a back up singer. Who shall I pick on? I'll tell you...

I read a recent blog post on Sean Daly's Pop Life regarding a phone interview he had with Alanis Morissette. I was reminded of a song that so perfectly resonates with my own love life/lack thereof. It's from her cd titled, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie . The song is Unsent. It tells of the letters written to former lovers. I've never sat down and composed letters to the men who've passed through the gateway of my heart and head. More often, I've had the rare opportunity to express myself directly. My words to their ears....even if they were deaf to the sound of my disappointment. Blue Eyes and I spent Thanksgiving together that November of '01. I was ecstatic to make a feast for the man who'd captured my interests. He arrived the Wednesday evening prior to Thanksgiving. He carried on how it was the best turkey dinner he'd ever eaten. He departed the Friday after the holiday. It was the only time he would ever cross the threshold of my sweet, lit...

My wild girl's weekend to Savannah turned out to be, ironically, less that I had intended; yet, far more than I had anticipated. On that warm, October '01 afternoon when I started off on I-85 south, I had no clue what the next 3 months would deliver. I saw The Atlantic Ocean for the first time. I'd visited The Pacific, drove through The Rockies, trail blazed as a teen from Illinois to San Diego, but I had never been to The Atlantic side of these United States. My trip to Savannah, GA wasn't about sight seeing or letting the salty sea air spritz my face. I was on a mission to meet a man. A man whom I'd been communicating with for some time. I did meet up with a man who'd sweep me off my feet-- where I'd land on my back in a drunken dither. Blue Eyes and I quickly started communicating via instant messenger. I'm talking about the second I logged on when I got home that Sunday after I drove away assuming never to see him again...there was a message waiting...

There was a time when my outlook on dating; and the opportunity to do so didn't seem so far fetched. Situations on the home front permitted me weekend time. As it was, my ex-husband was available to put on his parental hat and take the Man-cub so I could go out; shake my groove thang, so to speak. I was a regular visitor in a chat room on AOL. From time to time I'd make a connection with a potential date in that venue. There was one particular guy I'd been talking to for quite some time; both on the phone and online. We seemed to hit it off, but it wasn't fireworks. Truly, should that happen when you've not met face to face, I suggest pouring ice cold water on your manner of thinking. SNAP OUT OF IT! Don't get giddy until you've met and spent time together. Trust me on this, people. This fella lived in Savannah, GA. Now, I had been living in Gainesville, GA and the road trip would take approximately 5 hours of driving a normal, legal speed limit. I'd ne...

Two bumps. Fried eggs, sunny side up. Nothing truly notable. Tube tops flattened them. I was in sixth grade and it happened. I sprouted boobs. I wore an ill fitting bra purchased from K-Mart under my Holly Hobby button down shirt. There I was in all my string bean splendour; straight leg jeans leading down to big feet. My feet haven't really grown since sixth grade. Imagine Olive Oyle with a shag haircut and really dreadful glasses. That was me. I was one of the first girls to grow boobs. It's not like I wished them upon myself. Genetics made it happen. My mother was busty. My sisters were always packin' a minimum of C-cups. I was perusing some older photographs and was delighted to see that I did, indeed, have normal sized breasts at some point in my life. Well, normal for the women in my family, that is. Comfortable bras have always eluded me. As I got older, gained weight, gave birth, breast fed .... my boobs have grown with me like the trees of the Amazon. Sadly, my b...

I suppose that title could lead anyone to believe it's that time of the month or it's tax time. However, that time , I refer to is AMERICAN IDOL ON FOX ! Sorry for the caps. I'm just a little excited. I've been on a slow burn withdrawl since Jordin Sparks was crowned as the season 6 winner. I'll have you know I rooted from her from the second she sang, I who have nothing . I totally love the gem of a song made popular by Shirley Bassey and Tom Jones . I was backing Melinda Doolittle until that moment. I was tiring of her act of humility. She kicked vocal quality ass! The girl simply needed to give herself props. Maybe do a neck boppin' mmmhmm, you know it sugah! I AM that good with two snaps in the air for good measure. But alas, that year is over and I'm hearing Jordin's first release Tattoo being played. I'm happy she's getting airplay. Remember season 5 winner and runner-up, Taylor Hicks and Kat McPhee? Both have been reportedly dropped b...

This is a blog I wrote in October, 2007. It is by request that I post it here. I realize it's not Halloween, but this could go for any costume party or "personal" costume party you might embark on. So, I've been perusing Halloween costumes online. They always show these very thin women dressed in the sexy outfits. Some ads will say "Plus Sizes Available." Oh groovy! However, they don't often show what a pleasantly plump, fully bosomed woman looks like in said 'plus size' costume. It's a harsh reality when you take the "bar wench" costume from it's hermetically sealed plastic wrap. You attempt to work out the creases and folds from the acrylic fabric in a steamy shower. You use all the hot water trying to fill the bathroom with enough steam to iron it out. To no avail you're left with, at best, a slightly damp wrinkled garment. While donning your flesh tone 18-hour bra and granny panties, you slip into your fantasy wench atti...

What do these three movies have in common? I mean other than the fact that they are from my favorite decade . My 13 year old son has taken a shine to these flicks. For Christmas, I bought him the double pack Ghostbusters. Prior to that, he discovered Robocop on cable OnDemand. This delights me to no end that he LOVES the same things I do. Well, at least we have similar likes in music and movies. I'm completely at a loss when it comes to learning Yu-Gi-OH! and the video games he plays. I question what's going on in his head when he's watching those anime' programs. I have learned that I need to keep an eye out for those. There are sexual undertones I don't care for him to watch. The characters are all seemingly young, but have in depth relationships with the opposite sex. All the characters seem to shout at each other. I get the heebie-jeebies watching. It's all just too much. I can see how it appeals to the video game generation. The Man-cub is amused when I ...

Believe it or not, that is the same girl. I was a naive 16 year old girl who was often photographed by her best guy pal. He's now a professional photographer living Venice, CA. It's clear I was just your run of the mill kid. I'm fairly certain, in that photo, we were sitting in our auditorium before show choir practice. It took seeing this picture to realize what my natural hair color is. My how the years have changed me. Ironically, my son looks nearly identical to me in the then photo. Obviously he has bit more peach fuzz on his upper lip and doesn't wear blush or eyeshadow. I wore contacts back then, too. I've needed vision correction since 4th grade. Cripes, I wonder where those photos are? I guarantee you the hair was far worse and my collars were incredibly big. It has always been said that the women in our family improve with age. Because I heard this so often and witnessed it with my sisters, I never worried about aging. I looked forward to it because it me...

I saw this photo and had to chortle. The setting is clearly not of affluence; yet, the subject is clearly displaying her desire to exude, shall we say, a come hither-you know you want me pose. those stilettos aren't made for walkin', my friends. No, those are what I like to refer to as CFM shoes. I can imagine what's on the other side of this photo. Or rather who is on the receiving end of this woman's conspicuous attempt to seduce. There sits her significant other, Barney. He's home from the salt mines and has cracked open a fresh bottle of suds. He's stripped down to his dirty white t-shirt, slightly stained boxers, tube socks bearing a filthy ring around the ankle where his boots hit. All he can focus on is the sports page and scratching that itch that he can't quite reach. UGH! Barney, they make ointments for that, bud. She arches her back, gives her hair a toss with hopes that he'll take notice. But alas, all he can mutter to her is, " Make m...

The haunting strains of Poe cry out on iTunes. She's telling me she's in Control. I'm trying to drown out the fact that my sump-pump is running non-stop. The current warming trend has caused a major meltdown and, needless to say, the ground is quite saturated. If the plowed fields froze over right now, my little town would be a giant ice skating rink. In addition to the rapid rise in temperatures, it has rained considerably. Who ever thought I'd be singing rain, rain go away. come again another day on a January day in the Mid-west? Perhaps it's all part of an Inconvenient Truth after all. Poe now informs me she's Not a Virgin anymore. I've recently reacquainted myself with her music. When I bought my new iPod on amazon.com I was awarded free MP3 downloads. I love free stuff. Sure, I had to toss out the funds to get it, but woohoo! If you're unfamiliar with her music, I will gladly supply you with a sampling: Hey Pretty (original non-spoken version) , ...