Saturday, January 31, 2009
A Thousand Words from Ted Chung on Vimeo.
Friday, January 30, 2009
It is my hope that, with your help, we'll take this concept from a training bra to a full-fledged, knock-out, Dolly Parton extremes! I'm putting my breast foot forward to make items that remind our beloved ladies to "check 'em" monthly. As inspiration and suggestions come to me, I will add to the small, yet perky, collection of designs. Being new to the product market, I'm learning this as I go. So, I hope you're a patient patron. Many thanks in advance!
Thursday, January 29, 2009
I've made the parenthetical knockers available on hats, too. So, if you're not daring or crass enough to sport them around on your pectoral region, you can still don boobs on your forehead!
This girly design is an answer to the male friendly t-shirt I've seen with the saying, "Tell your boobs to stop staring at my eyes." Who knew the "@" symbol was called an asperand? If you didn't, now you do. The pink shirt is obviously breast cancer awareness friendly. "Have you checked your asperands this month?"
Also available for purchase is the Parenthetical Knockers t-shirt with and without the phrase on the back of the shirt.
This is all new to me, but I'm pretty sure if you don't like the mens tshirt option, you can select the girly tee, tank tops, athletic fit for guys, etc... The prices vary as well as colors. I'll be constantly updating and willing to take suggestions for future designs or phrases to accompany the parenthetical knockers.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Participating on a blog that is part of a newspaper which is family friendly sets limitations on what you can write. Foul language isn't permitted. Dropping the f-bomb is a big no-no. Expletives in general are snagged by the censors aka the blog police.
Some words that many people deem harmless, such as, slang for body parts are slammed down and beaten into submission. For what it's worth, I don't think a lot of people under the age of 21 frequent Sean's blog unless he's writing about his big brother like relationship with the Jonas Brothers. ::fist bump::
I believe it was last week -- it really seems like this season of Idol has dragged on much longer, but alas it's only two weeks in to a long assed journey till the crowning of season 8's most popular performer. Sorry, I'm easily distracted. Last week I tried to type the word BOOBS. I have no idea why, but where there's Marissa there are boobs (literal and figurative.) I sort of have a reputation of ushering the blog into the gutter.
Boobs. I'm getting there.
I was rudely halted by the family friendly censors of the blogosphere. I can't type BOOBS? Where there's a will there's a way.
B@@BS (that's highlighted, but I have no idea why. Ignore it.)
Sean got a kick out of how it looked. Even more exciting was that we were able to type the word freely and funnily.
Last night during snark-a-rama week deux, Sean wrote boobs as b@@bs expressing how much he really loved it. Me being a total goober fan-girl got a charge out of creating something to the Pop Life commander and chief was totally diggin'.
Being a former chatroom junky, I called upon my creative scrolling conversational skills and gave Pop Lifers this:
( @ )( @ )
Parenthetical Knockers was born from the cranium of Sean himself. What a great band name, huh? "Parenthetical Knockers and the Air Quotes" The idea was so inspiring I ran to my source of virtual t-shirt design and came up with a couple designs. Simple and to the point.
I immediately sent them off via email to SD. This afternoon I read a return email of dismay as he wasn't able to post the t-shirt design on his blog. Why, you ask? THE CENSORS!! So, I am here to oblige Sean and Pop Lifers with the offending item in question.
Seriously, I know it would embarrass the hell out of my son, but I want a REAL t-shirt. Who's with me? Can we order a gross? Shall we have them print in bulk?? The first one is what I sent to SD last night. After a comment left by Douglas, I created the other two. There's a point in having the words on the t-shirt (graphic design correctness or not) So, there's the compromise.
You can sport around this design. Seriously! Invite only for now. Not a general public product, but I like y'all well enough to share. I have no idea what I'm doing. I can already feel my tuchus getting burned on this.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your next answer.
3. You must write that song name down no matter how outrageous it sounds!
4. Tag 10 friends who might enjoy doing the game as well as the person you got the note from
IF SOMEONE SAYS, “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY?
My United States of Whatever -- Liam Lynch
WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Miniskirt -- Esquivel/Combustible Edison
WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Be My Somebody -- Norah Jones
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
You Just Haven't Earned it Yet Baby -- Kirsty MacColl
WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Promiscuous -- Nelly Furtado (not!)
WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
You Can Leave Your Hat On -- Tom Jones
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN?
Please Don't Leave Me -- P!NK
WHAT IS 2+2?
Gone Daddy Gone -- Violent Femmes
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
No Love -- Joan Armatrading
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Down Under -- Colin Hay
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
You Make Me Feel Like Dancing -- Leo Sayer
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Grown Woman -- Mary J. Blige
WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
I Am In Love With You -- Imogen Heap
WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
No Limit Life -- a song on my Wellness for Women walking playlist
WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
You Never Had it So Good -- State Fair soundtrack (I thought I deleted that)
WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Under the Milkyway -- The Church
WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Incomplete -- Alanis Morissette
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
All The Way From America -- Joan Armatrading
WHAT’S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Leave Me Alone -- Helen Reddy
HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Hot Child in the City -- Billy Idol
WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
The New Pollution -- Beck
WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Single Ladies (Put a Ring on it) -- Beyonce
WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Dream Police -- Cheaptrick
WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Help Yourself -- Joan Armatrading
WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Steppin' Out -- Joan Armatrading (OK, it says shuffle but it's just giving me JA)
DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
We Should Be Sleeping -- Eddie Money
IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
It's a Mistake -- Colin Hay
WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
King of Pain -- Police (I so swear that's what it landed on)
WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Nothing Compares 2 U -- Sinead O'Connor
If you choose to do this meme, leave me a comment and I'll come take a gander at your life on shuffle! My friend Sherry tagged me on Facebook. I did it there, too. Sooooo if you're Facebook friendly, you can click the facebook widget over there --------> and find me. Then, I'll be able to read your results.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
I particularly love the line, "Mr. Allen, this may come as a shock to you, but there are some men who don't end every sentence with a propostion." Nice.
About 20 minutes ago an exercise program called Kettlenetics was telling me I could have sculpted abs and lean, long muscle tone and drop inches while having a good time. Ooh, and if I'd called within the next 10 minutes I'd get alllllll the items shown on the screen for 2 payments of $19.95 instead of 3 payments of $19.95. The program is all about getting your body moving along with use of a weighted kettle bell. It actually looks like fun, but I get frustrated when I can' t easily pick up the moves. Not to mention I think I'll clock a cat with that doo-hicky. I have no doubt that it'd be a blast if you're in a class and doing it. Oh, designer Michelle Khai includes a guide to healthier eating.
I didn't call. However, you're welcome to order it and have it delivered to me. I'll test it out and report on how it works for me. Seriously.
Now Rob Nevins is telling me he holds the key to my Skinny Switch Secret. Damn it! All these years I've been looking for a secret pill. Now this dude says it's a KEY! A FRIGGIN' KEY! Wow, I possess a magic butthole and had no idea. What if the switch is in my butt? I am so not going there, girlfriend.
For $5.95 per week (for a limited time offer) I'll have Rob as my personal online coach! An entire online community waiting to help me lose weight. I will get the benefits his clients usually pay THOUSANDS to receive. Damn! How can I resist? I'll be a full pant size smaller in a week, you guys. How can I be keeping my debit card in my purse? Why haven't I lifted my ever decreasing tuchus to jump on this great offer?
Well, first of all he's telling me the best exercise I can do for my body is to eat. My metabolism, with his plan, will make me thin! I get to "cheat" and eat fattening foods!! I can lose weight and eat delivery pizza? A "big bowl of ice cream once a week -- and not the fat free kind either." I quote that because Mr. Nevins said that in the program while holding a bowl big enough to bathe a newborn.
I thought one of the biggest problems overweight people have is the inability to limit fork to mouth. Portions that can feed a family of four feeding a singular person. The other issue is not getting enough movement. Sedentary people can be thin, but are they body healthy? I'm far from casting stones.
Paid programming/infomercials are designed to be seductive. That's why they are on early in the morning and late at night. People are at their weakest point. Sleep deprived and quite possibly most vulnerable. I'm sure there's a lot of validity in their claims, but don't preach how easy it is and then put in the small print "results not typical." Bastards!
My favorite (read as most laughable) infomercial is for the product that tells women they can lose inches without diet or exercise. Just wear this head to toe girdle and you'll be slimmer and less bulky. Tell me where those lost inches go? Seriously, isn't that just uncomfortable after hours of donning such a thing? I fully understand when a woman has purchased a dress that is form fitting or is made of a clingy material that the last thing a girl wants is bra bulge or panti-hose waistline rolls.
The most humorous thing is the before and after photos. Do they think we aren't noticing that the woman in the before is letting it all hang out. Her gut is jutted out and shoulders are rolled forward. I'm betting her bra straps aren't even adjusted. My mother would be having a cow over her posture. She'd poke her in the middle of the back and tell her to stand up straight and be proud of what God gave her. Eesh! And I thought I had problems finding a bra that fit properly.
Then, the OH MY GOD IT'S MAGIC! after shot. Puhleeeez. Yes, I agree there are no visible rolls and bulges, but I want a time lapse of how long it took that poor soul to squeeze into the contraption. I want to see her bending, sitting, getting in and out of her car without the top rolling or riding. I want to see if circulation is cut off by the end of the day. I wouldn't want my boobs doing whatever her's are doing. Plus, what happens if you need to fart? The air passes and has no where to escape so it takes the path of least resistance and ends up fluffing your hair at your neck because it's the only place there's an opening.
There are countless websites chocked full of complaints about the quality and claims of this product. Here's a link to one such group of unhappy customers. I've come to realize that not one thing works for all people. At least not in the world of magic solutions to weight loss. I'm rejoicing because since my decision to make a lifestyle change of cleaner eating, I have lost 11 pounds. I am not doing anything by the book or subscribing to any specific diet guru's plan. I am being sensible. There's absolutely no deprivation nor am I perfect in my endeavor. I'm certain a pomegranate martini isn't on the clean living plan. Self-discipline. It's difficult for me to enlist in such a school of thought, but I'm doing it. Imperfect, I am. Like the old anti-drunk driving commercials declared, "Know when to say when." I have a long way to go. Short term goals are a key element in my journey to healthful living. Yes, there's an ultimate goal, but I need to feel that I'm attaining goals daily and weekly along this path I'm forging. In assessing myself it's obvious that this ultimate goal will take time. All this bodunkadunk, thunder thighs, jiggly wiggliness didn't happen over night. Therefore, I am not expecting to drop the weight any faster than it took to put it on. My focus is on being healthier and the result is a lower number on the scale. My greatest joy in all of this is that Mancub is along for the ride without complaining. He's really unaware that we're eating healthier. He simply thinks I'm being more creative in the meals I prepare. His plate is colorful!! No more beige meals. The boy loves brown rice and whole wheat pasta. He's even requested that instead of regular spaghetti. Excuse me while I get a little verklempt.
Friday, January 23, 2009
I had always considered my mother's fecal matter queries to be odd. The reason I think her poop didn't smell was due to having no recollection that she did, in fact, have bowel movements. She died of cancer at age 51.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
When I was a teen, I used Maybelline's Great Lash -- the one with the pink bottle and bright green lid. Then, cosmetics manufacturers decided to get wise and increase their marketing strategy. Along came new formulas and, the all important, wand design.
I recall my first run in with Cover Girl's Professional Lash with the Curved Brush. The promise was that while thickening and lengthening, (sounds like an add for something else, huh guys?) my lashes would also curl. Lies, lies, lies. My puny little lashes got blacker and goopier but still shot straight out.
Purchase after purchase; application after application my lashes never EVER looked like any of those demonstrated in the commercials or magazine ads. Isn't there supposed to be some truth in advertising? Yeah, I know: READ THE FINE PRINT. L'Oreal's Panoramic Curl was one such failure. I believe it was supposed to lengthen, thicken and visibly curl the lashes leaving no need for the additional step of the eyelash curler. WRONG! Luckily, while still in high school, I learned how to use a lash curler. Although it appears quite barbaric, it does make a huge difference even when the mascara isn't fulfilling the promises of the ads.
Over the last 25 plus years, I have used countless mascaras. I found that the pricier ones are not necessarily better than the cheapies found at CVS or Walgreen's. Everytime one of the major over the counter cosmetics companies comes out with a new one, you can bet I'm investigating it's Riss worthiness. A coupon makes my research more palatable.
In my vast research, I've come to find that a formula can work for me while its brush/applicator leaves little to be desired and vice versa. Sometimes the mascara flakes or smudges easily, but my lashes look fuller, etc... I've even tried out falsies. Yes, when I'm on stage, I use fake eyelashes. There's an enormous variety of lengths, fullness and novelty lashes to choose from. The key is not over using the adhesive and knowing when to snip. Being a spectacle wearer, however, makes fake eyelashes cumbersome.
See caterpillar results of falsies:
Here's a list of mascaras I can recall using. **indicates one I like and will use again.
- Cover Girl: Professional with curved brush, Volume Exact, Fantastic Lash, Lash Blast, Super Thick Lash
- Maybelline: Great Lash**, Volum' Express, Sky High, Define-a-Lash, Intense XXL, The Colossal**, XXL Extension
- L'Oreal: Voluminous**, Lash Out, Double Extend, Panoramic Curl, Volume Shocking, Double Extend Beauty Tube Technology
- Revlon: FabuLash, Lash Fantasy
The most recent purchase was the Beauty Tube Technology variety. Boy, what a crock that turned out to be. First of all, it doesn't really thicken or lengthen my lashes. I followed the directions on the packaging to not let the first step layer to dry before applying the color (step 2.) The result was clumpy; yet wimpy lashes. Not giving up, I tried letting the white, step one layer dry before putting on the color. The result was similar, but not as goopy. This was not of the waterproof variety and the claim on the package is that removal is easy with soap and water. BAH! Lies again! I had to pull on my lashes to get the 'tube technology' to come off. It's not as if I have lashes to spare by yanking half of them out. Sheesh!I fortunately had a back up tube of Voluminous by L'Oreal. It's fairly basic with a brush thick with varied length bristles. I'm not exactly pleased with the outcome, but it'll do in a pinch.
I know I should just return to the tried and true Great Lash. But I'm going to try another fancy shmancy advertised brand before giving up. Have you seen the ads for Maybelline Stiletto Mascara? It boasts
Brand NEW !!
Gives lashes provocative length and black-patent shine.
The elastic formula visibly stretches lashes to the extreme with every stroke.
Exclusive Grip & Extend brush firmly grasps each lash to coat from every angle, easily separating, elongating and sliding on length with each stroke.
The product's patented formula with provitamin B5 conditions and smooths, giving lashes a glossy finish and shine.
OK, is it just me and my perverse mind or are they using some sexual wording in that claim?
What's your favorite mascara? Do you spend a small fortune on a cosmetic that has the shortest shelf life (2-3 months) and needs to be discarded if you've had a cold or any kind of occular infection? Or are you uber thrifty and purchase your goods at the Dollar Tree?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Per my usual routine in the morning, I checked my emails. Amazon.com likes to give me free MP3s. Do they do that for you, too? More often than not I will take them up on their freebies. I have downloaded some great tracks and some that were more like the aural equivalent to watching paint dry. Sometimes the sample is the best part of the song. It's a risk one takes. It's similar to being all excited over "Don't Mess With the Zohan" based on the trailer. Then, you go and that 30 second trailer was the best parts of the movie. EEK!
Today's spotlight freebie is a release from Sanjaya Malakar's CD "Dancing to the Music in my Head." This is the dedication I have to you people. I risked my sanity and my reputation as a totally rockin' chick when I downloaded this song. I have this fear that Amazon is tracking it and will later punk me. There's a cruel trick being played by the group that selects which tunes will be up for free-dom, and I'm now the butt of the joke. Today they are laughing and pointing at me.
For you, my readers, I am suffering a blogosphere wedgie of atomic proportions. He asks "Tell Me Who I Am ..." Sanjaya, I thought Simon made it pretty clear, but apparently the crying girl started a petition begging you to make a record. He may be dancing to the music in his head, but it's the voices that are telling him he's fab-u-lous!
Click it. I dare ya. I double dog ... no, I triple dog dare ya!
Monday, January 19, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
1) Two-Parter: The 1980's, with it's monsterous Big Hair and "A-Can-A-Day" hairspray requirements, no doubt contributed to our current global warming crisis. How much did you contribute to the situation? And: In retrospect, wasn't it all really embarrassing? Fess up. I entered my freshman year of high school on the tail end of the 70's. My naturally wavy hair never wanted to succumb to my efforts of pulling a Farrah Faucett feathered look. I tried diligently. I could have held stock in Miss Breck. That was my weapon of choice. FIRM HOLD. Hours would be spent with curling iron in hand to achieve a semi-Farrah. In the world of teen-age fulfillment, that's like attempting hard-core sex with semi-wood. Just sayin'. I do recall being flirted with by a boy who'd hold my attentions for several years. While strutting about in my pink silk shirt and grey overalls (shut!up!), he told me he loved watching me walk because my hair was so bouncy. Farrah achievement or not, I was smitten with the gangly goof. But I digress.
My big hair days didn't come until after graduating high school. I maintained shoulder length hair throughout those years. A hair stylist introduced me to the magic of hair gel. Purchasing the salon products were not in my budget. Dippity Do offered a remedy. A big jar of yellow goo at the low, low price of under $2.00 . I just had to be mindful not to overuse it. White, crusty flakes were far from appealing. Plus, it rendered my hair motionless. No longer impressing the boy who loved my bouncy hair. He'd gone off to college anyway. No contribution to decreasing the ozone layer as I embarked on the mid-80's.
Aussie hair products originally came in pump spray bottles. The scent far surpassed anything I'd ever whiffed. Gel was applied first. Dry. Curl or spike. I should mention I lobbed off my hair and went uber short. I wanted to be spunky and punky without committing to the punk way of life. I have no photographic evidence.
That look was short lived as I realized short didn't suit my style. I grew out my hair again and sported layers. BIG hair was finally achieved. I did not, mind you, don the bangs that stuck straight up or put out a nuzzling boy's eyeball. My hair, although slightly crunchy, did not have a warrant out for its arrest as dangerous or suspect for severe laceration.
If memory serves me, Aussie product line was environmentally friendly. Therefore, with all good conscience, I feel I had nothing to do with Global Warming. I have no fear of Leo and Al showing up to put me on the most wanted list.
Embarrassing? Nope. Not at the time. My hair was mild compared to most. I had ranch style hair when I consider many girls had Sears Tower 'dos.
2) You have three different ways of doing things. What are they?
My way; the prescribed way; an apathetic approach
My way is, at first glance, typically flying by the seat of my pants. Sometimes that involves forethought and or calling upon previous similar circumstances and utilization of the "hindsight is 20/10" school of thought. My Way can also require consideration to the teachings of my parents. My way isn't always the right way, but it works for me. In this single parenthood way of life, I find that my way allows me to tweak whatever my decisions may have been prior. I question each and every decision I make, but thus far it has served me well. For crying out loud, have I told you about my son lately? My way is definitely the best way.
The Prescribed Way is what I do at work. It only works because, in being part of the herd, deviances rarely go unnoticed. Criticism is at its peak when one falls away from the prescribed way. I do not like being in the herd. I'll let you in on a little secret: I often step off the main line and invoke some of my way. I get a fresh perspective and it helps me when I start to feel the crush of the herd on my heels. It's a risk I'm willing to take in order to maintain my sanity.
The Apathetic Approach is sadly the way of many. That includes yours truly. I know, I know. Change won't occur until you're willing to be the change. I get it. However, stagnation leads to this. It's a catch-22, really. The apathetic approach to doing things leads to stagnation. It's also embodied in my way. It's not an innate facet. I've learned that it's best to keep a smaller plate. That way, when your plate is full, you're not overwhelmed. I do not subscribe to the idea that a platter is required. In changing my views of my healthful lifestyle, I use a smaller plate. So, in the grand scheme of life, shouldn't that same philosophy apply? I think so.
The bottom line is that no matter what approach I take to handle things, it's always MY WAY. Another label is simply given in order to make other's believe it's their way.
3) Two-Parter, Part II: Name the first three people that come to mind when you read this you would love to state something to, but can't. Why can't you? (Withhold the names to protect the innocent; reveal them if'n you just don't care.) This one has me seriously scratching my head. It's not the Dippity Do residue, either. I'd like to proudly declare that I just don't give a damn what other people think; yet, that isn't wholly true. I do. Why else would I give the option to leave comments on my writing?
I do want to say that pomposity pisses me off. Self-righteous nit-wits have no place in my little corner of the world. You know the guy. You ask a simple question and he starts spewing shit from a textbook. I'm all about learning from others. But do not lecture me with your 10 dollar words. People like that take delight in knowing that the vast majority have no fucking clue what they are laying down. In that, they feel they maintain superiority. But alas, in my most humble world, they are not of superior intellect but delusions of grandeur. Hell, I may very well come across like one of these people. But I possess the magic butt hole.
4) Rock ... Or Roll? Elaborate ... Either or? Musically I want both. I'm American and greedy like that.
As for being between a rock and a hard place, give me the rock. A rock is movable with enough effort and ingenuity depending on the size of said rock. Simon and Garfunkle declared they were a rock; an island. Without knowing it, a rock and an island do change. It's an ongoing process.
I like to roll. Rolling down a hill seemed like a grand idea as a kid. It's funny how rolling was a lot easier before sprouting hips and chesticular protuberances.
I like rolls. Rolls are tasty and if they are whole grain wheat, I will eat them.
Without rolling we never would have heard Tina wail so excellently about rolling on the river -- and we'd undoubtedly be living without the vision of her strutting about on those divine gams.
5) You've just been asked: "Why can't you?" What's your answer? "Because I said so."
Don't forget the rules....
You have to link back to the original post (http://immoralmatriarch.com/questionsagain) and my post (http://frolickry.blogspot.com/2009/01/ashton-bourne-interrogation.html) and include the following in your post:
Want to be part of it? Follow these instructions:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
With that out of the way, I will continue to explain what I mean by magic butt hole. For you perverts reading this, it has nothing to do with a sexual act.
If you're married or living with someone, I ask you to think back to a time when your loving significant other asked you where his lucky boxers -- or t-shirt --were located. Since you don't wear his lucky boxers (chances are they are so nastified you utilize grill tongs to put them in the washer) you have no idea. You tell him they are probably where he removed them AND NOT IN THE HAMPER WHERE THEY BELONG; THEREFORE, THEY DIDN'T GET LAUNDERED! You insist you've not seen them nor did you selfishly throw the raggedy assed things away. He gets bent out of joint because he needs to wear them in order for his favorite team or NASCAR driver will win. Clearly, the fate of all sporting events rests in his Fruit of the Looms.
In a panic, he gets spastic. He becomes indignant and frantically accuses you of not caring or wanting to help. In your calm, cool and collected manner, you tell him to think back to the last time he wore his lucky bum covers. You're calm because you really do know where to tell him to look. You remember when he came home from watching the game with his buddies slightly hammered and delusionally amorous. In his drunken state, he thought he had the hip gyrations of Ricky Martin down. Slurring the words to "Shake your Bon Bon" he attempted to entertain you with a strip tease. Those funky, thread bare skivvies flew across the room and now make time with the dust bunnies behind the nightstand.
Despite your efforts to help him recall where they were deposited, he can't find them. So, while he's sulking or staring into the refrigerator for inspiration, you retrieve them. Voila! You knew exactly where they were, but to him, you have a magic butt hole from which you pull lost items and solutions. Time and time again, your magic butthole is called upon to save him.
Similar situations occur everywhere. It's not isolated to the female of the species. Perhaps you've met face to face with this in the workplace. It's not that you're appreciated for your expertise and vast knowledge, though. No, this is all about laziness and passing the buck. Your co-workers come to you with questions. Questions you know very well were asked and answered in previous days. Tasks that are simply completed suddenly become too overwhelming for the average person. Your super human, goddess-like skills are the answer.Initially, it feels good to be needed. In the offset, you feel like you're educating your fellow employees. You share with them the tools of the trade. They fawn over you and give you high praise. They even go so far as nicknaming you Lab Goddess. Ooooh, that makes your ego soar. The warm fuzzies overcome you like a nice cup of hot cocoa with marshmallow fluff. Day in and day out for 4 years you keep giving solutions or just taking over the menial task. You're a team player. Then, it dawns on you that you're being taken advantage of. Ire builds within your goddess like demeanor. It's not so much that you no longer want to help or educate, but the recipients do not want to learn. They do not want to retain the information you so graciously bestowed upon them in their hour of need. You are no longer a mentor, but a fall guy or scape goat. Your company spends millions of dollars developing programs that are intended to be readily available to all. You keep such books and tools on hand for all to utilize. However, instead of taking it upon themselves to be independent or looking like an idiotic asshat, they come to you. You have all the answers. A wrath comes down upon you when you don't have an answer. Those needy co-workers turn to you in frustration and demand a solution. It's their problem, but you hold the key. That is when you turn to your magic butt hole. It's a special place where the impossible is stored. The magic butt hole is where you pull out all your answers. Your butt hole is magical because you've elected NOT to put your head up there. Thereby, not inhibiting the flow of all things relating to expertise and knowledge. Because your anal sphincter isn't blocked by your cranium, you're able to think for yourself and find answers; perform the impossible. Due to the lack of bunghole blockage, you are able to breathe easily and do your job without being annoyingly dependent. You keep notes in your pocket or maintain a notebook that keeps the tips at your fingertips; keeping that notebook available for all. There are no secrets. Somehow, no matter how frequently you point them in the right direction, they maintain that they are informationally challenged. The words "I never knew that, " or "No one ever told me," rolls off their lips too frequently. There's no doubt in your mind that they know. Their signature resides on the memo that revealed the information they are strangely lacking. A memo that is kept in the very book where all other information is stored. In your frustration from all such nonsense and because you are a sarcastic wit duly irritated by the incessant feigned ignorance, you resort to pantomiming the action of removing an item from your posterior -- TADA!!! The world is saved by the lab goddess and her magic butt hole.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
1. Go to your documents
2. Go to your 6th file.
3. Go to your 6th picture.
4. Blog about it.
5. Tag 6 friends to do the same.
Simple enough right? Here is my 6th Photo
This lovely photo comes from my "those were the days" folder. It's filled with pictures that have been scanned by myself or friends. I love that we can do that! Otherwise, how would I show the blogosphere my hot 80's style?
From left to right: ME, Laurie, Kelly and Jessica. The year was 1985, I believe. I was 19 and ripe for the pickin' Please note the tan. I'm quite certain I was doing the fake and bake because my tummy is beautifully bronzed. I have no recollection of wearing a bikini back then. My boobs were so tiny!
I had gone to Decatur with Laurie, I think, to have a rip-roarin' good time before she got married in September. This was a typical pose for us when a group of us got together. I always thought it was stupid, but I went along because Laurie would insist. I think she just wanted to show off her gams. I have no idea. Kelly seems a bit reluctant, doesn't she?
I don't follow the rules implicitly. I think plenty of others are already committing this meme as I type. So, I will spare y'all.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Here's an example:
The other night, the howling video kitty woke me from a dream. In this dream I was calling a prize claim line where everything was made from LINOLEUM. Yes. You read correctly. Umbrella stand: Made of fine grade linoleum. Also offered was a lamp, shoe rack, and book shelf. All were comprised of the floor covering of the 70's.
Every night this week the kitty heard in my video has been waking us up in the wee hours with her obnoxious tones. She's been boisterous and determined to get me out of bed. Mancub, who sleeps like a log, was even awakened. She stood outside his room whooping it up. I know she's not in heat any longer. So, what gives?
Every time she's done this, I usher her downstairs and shut the door that allows entrance to the upstairs. I need my sleep. I am not a happy camper when jolted awake. I am a force to be reckoned with. If my slumber is not being interrupted for good reason, hell hath no fury. That's all I'm sayin'.
Last night was bitter cold. The wind was gusting and more snow was in the forcast. At 3:30 a.m. Silver, howler cat, started in. I was in the middle of a dream (can't recall it now) . I shouted at her. Mancub hollered at her. I called to her in an attempt to make her come to my room and chill. No luck. I switched on the hall light. She was standing firm next to Mancub's door. I shooed her, but she ran into my room. Our more mature cat, Mo-mo, growled and hissed. That action deterred Silver from running under my bed. She scampered down the stairs and I followed suit -- making sure to close the door behind me.
As usual when I wake up in the middle of the night, I had to use the bathroom. Silver's spastic antics didn't cease. I thought the wind was bothering her. Noises coming from outside had her on alert, perhaps.
Before returning to my bed and locking Silver in the living room for the night, I took a gander out my front window. It overlooks the porch. gasp Something was moving around on the porch. It was far too large to be another cat or even a raccoon. The creature of the night was anxiously pacing. First, it went down the 3 steps, then turned back. I crouched down and watched it feverishly move about in the snow. It stepped down in an opening where the gas meters reside. A small animal would easily gain access under the porch. I often see rabbits retreating under there. It appeared to me that this larger animal wanted to be under the porch, too. I suspected, however, this furry tailed beast wasn't seeking refuge. He was looking for dinner.
A large, red fox wanted to make dinner reservations at Casa Riss. I left the window for less than 5 seconds to retrieve my camera. Upon returning, he was gone. I have no idea if he'd squeezed under the porch and managed to acquire his entree du jour.
His paw prints were covered by the falling and drifting snow. There's no apparent trace of what I spied in my early morning vision.
I have to credit Silver for alerting us that a predator was in our midst. The fox was just doing what comes naturally for his survival. As for Silver, she was protecting Mancub. He is, after all, her boy.
Monday, January 12, 2009
I spent a good amount of time looking at photos of Facebook friends last night. A picture can, indeed, speak volumes. Yes, a picture paints a thousand words. Thank you to those people who seem to be able to capture life's precious moments with the single click of a shutter & flash.
I also listened to songs of bands posted on a link shared with me on Facebook (thanks again to Chase.) New artists and old. I hadn't heard of Yma Sumac until my brother, Rick, pointed out that an earworm I had the other night, "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," was inspired by one of her songs "Wimoweh." I realized that in my self-proclaimed vast knowledge of all things pop culture and music; I am a novice.
I went to my source of all things musical to find this Peruvian 4-octave singing songstress: IMEEM. Immediately, I was smitten. I created a playlist in her honour. I don't have a clue what she's saying, but that's proof how music translates no matter what language it's sung. Her amazing vocal range is something I can listen to frequently. Mariah Carey, who boasts a similar range, is left in the dust and can bite my butt. If you've ever watched the movie "The Fifth Element" you will recall a blue diva. Yma Sumac sings in a very similar manner. Dig it. Or don't. I do.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
I wanted to get this posted before I left for work. Best laid plans and all that stuff ... I was running late and youtube was sluggish. WOOP!
The links I promised SEAN DALY'S BLOG and the tunage is a mash-up of "It Takes Two" and "Kiss" -- that and more can be found at Undercover Black Man's Blog.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
I sat down at the computer without any idea what I'd write. I'm sure that's vividly apparent. To be honest, I'm craving something and I have no idea what it is. So, I'm writing with hopes the craving will subside and I'll forget all about it.
Tuesdays have been devoted to kindness. What is a kindness I can share? Hmmm.
Well, a short time before Christmas I anted up the money to buy friend's little girl a dress. My friend wasn't able to break away from work to do it herself, and handed me her debit card. Knowing that ID might be required (she doesn't sign the back of her card) I just used my card. The dress was drastically reduced. My friend's daughter loved it and would be wearing it in a performance with a youth choir. I was delighted to help her get the dress before it was purchased by someone else. When her daughter told her what I did, my friend assured me she'd pay me back. This friend is the same one who left the heart shaped tire imprint on my drive way.
My friend struggles with her health. In spite of having insurance, her medical bills are mounting. Her husband was laid off and just now acquired work. I know very well if I suggest to her that payment is NOT required, she will insist. I've decided to make the dress a gift. I've feared asking about the performance because it might trigger her memory and she'll want to pay me back. That is not what I want. The amount is not, by any means, monumental. Her daughter felt like a diva and a superstar. She thanked me profusely for taking her to get it. She's a great kid. The debt, to me, is paid in full.
I've been showered with kindness regarding my lifestyle change efforts. I want to thank Chase for sharing his story of weight loss with me. It's truly an inspiration. I don't know that I could live off beans, brown rice and canned tuna. You're way more man than I am. HA! Maybe one day if I can duct tape Thelma and Louise down enough, I'll join you in a run.
I thank CAT for giving me such sound advice and reassurance that my detox accompanied with flu-like symptoms were normal. The not so common-common sense tips you gave me keep ringing in my head. I know I can do this with friends like you.
To Jane, Tessa, Patty, Jen, Karin, Claudia, JAG, Devyl, Soren, Bronson, Kat, Jan, Laura, Yoon, Dan, James, Mahala, John, Michael, Jerry, Tonianne, Lance, Robyn, Sherrie, Shannon, Rene, Lydia, Douglas, and Shanna -- you're all beacons of inspiration, compassion and encouragement. I know I'm probably leaving someone out and it's not intentional. OY! My Plurk friends, as you know, always seem to have the right things to say right when I need it the most.
Today I bestowed a little retail kindness on Mancub. Because Christmas was lean, I figured I would take the money that I'm saving on lunches at the mall to buy the boy something I knew he'd like. My co-worker Scott had returned from FYE with a DVD gift set of FAMILY GUY BLUE HARVEST. The set was once priced at $39.99. It was marked down to $12.99. In the set is 2 dvds, a t-shirt, 3D glasses, collector's cards and booklet. The shirt alone would worth the asking price of the set. So, off I went and picked one up. When presented to Mancub, he was so excited he ripped into it immediately and put it in the player. He needs to keep close tabs on that t-shirt, though. It might very well find itself in my laundry basket by mistake.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Have an awesome day. Catch ya later.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Have a great a great weekend!!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Thursday, January 1, 2009
It is then that I woke up with a slight pain in my lower back. I'm sure it's cramps, but that's probably TMI. I rolled over and went back to sleep.
I fell asleep around 11:00 p.m. last night. The howling feline woke me just in the nick of time. I got online as the clock struck midnight to wish Plurkers and Facebookers a Merry New Year. I considered coming here, but I didn't want to ruin the essence of the video message below.
Mancub had done his best to keep the howling cat quiet. I kept hearing him say, "shhhhhh mom is sleeping. Don't wake her, Silver!" Then, when my body arose from the couch, he apologized for waking me. I reassured him that all was well and I needed to be awake to ring in the new year.
He took to the cardio-glide as the fireworks went off on WLS-TV Chicago. I gave him a smooch and that was that.
Happy new year, dudes and dudettes! I'm off to work. It's always interesting to hear how people either broke, mangled or lost their glasses in the hub-bub of the carousing holiday.