Saturday, January 31, 2009

Silent Saturday

My oldest and dearest friend Tommy linked me to this. It made me ponder how often I've made a contact, but never followed up on it. The reasons vary, but most likely it is due to fear of rejection or, woefully, I've misinterpreted the intention. So, I just let it go and claim that fate had other plans. But what if failure and fear weren't factors? What would you do? I want to throw caution to the wind and let my sails take me to new horizons ... what say you??

A Thousand Words from Ted Chung on Vimeo.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Wow! Are you cold or are your asperands bolded?

Born from a cheeky comment I made on Sean Daly's Pop Life is something close to my heart: Breasts. Or, more textually correct, ( @ Y @ ) or ( @ )( @ ). One looks like natural cleavage and the other resembles the baseballish augmented boobalas. Regardless of your desires, I hope I can bring it! Parenthetical Knockers is alive and well on ZAZZLE!
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

One thing leads to another

It catches like wildfire. Well, the thoughts and ideas do. Whether or not the concept or desire to purchase catches on is up to you and whomever else checks out my Wildhair Designs on Zazzle.
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

Parenthetical Knockers

I love to snark.

I love American Idol.

I love Sean Daly's Pop Life blog.

Put them all together ....

I love to snark about American Idol on Sean Daly's Pop Life Blog.

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.

Nothing Compares 2 U

1. Put your mp3 player on shuffle. (or some other playlist doo-hicky like iTunes)
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

My United States of Whatever -- Liam Lynch
Miniskirt -- Esquivel/Combustible Edison
Be My Somebody -- Norah Jones
You Just Haven't Earned it Yet Baby -- Kirsty MacColl
Promiscuous -- Nelly Furtado (not!)
You Can Leave Your Hat On -- Tom Jones
Please Don't Leave Me -- P!NK
WHAT IS 2+2?
Gone Daddy Gone -- Violent Femmes
No Love -- Joan Armatrading
Down Under -- Colin Hay
You Make Me Feel Like Dancing -- Leo Sayer
Grown Woman -- Mary J. Blige
I Am In Love With You -- Imogen Heap
No Limit Life -- a song on my Wellness for Women walking playlist
You Never Had it So Good -- State Fair soundtrack (I thought I deleted that)
Under the Milkyway -- The Church
Incomplete -- Alanis Morissette
All The Way From America -- Joan Armatrading
Leave Me Alone -- Helen Reddy
Hot Child in the City -- Billy Idol
The New Pollution -- Beck
Single Ladies (Put a Ring on it) -- Beyonce
Dream Police -- Cheaptrick
Help Yourself -- Joan Armatrading
Steppin' Out -- Joan Armatrading (OK, it says shuffle but it's just giving me JA)
We Should Be Sleeping -- Eddie Money
It's a Mistake -- Colin Hay
King of Pain -- Police (I so swear that's what it landed on)
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.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Guilty Pleasures

Sundays are my day for lazing about. I revel in not working. In my realm, Sunday is a day to relax or take on tasks around the house that aren't major feats. I go with the flow.
The first day of the calendar week also reminds me of a time of watching movies on WGN Family Classics with Frasier Thomas. WCIA out of Champaign/Urbana always had some movie playing. This was long before movies were released to video. Channels were limited to maybe 12 stations. What I now know as FOX Broadcasting was WFLD back when I was a kid. Those were the stations I'd flip to and from on the rotary knob of our console television set.
It was my mother who'd insist on us watching "Ma and Pa Kettle" in their various incarnations. I learned to love Blondie and Dagwood in all their black and white ditziness.
Without a doubt, my sense of humor was shaped by those movies and my mother's influence. Of all the motion pictures that were part of my Sunday movie enjoyment, none brings me a greater sense of guilty pleasure than those of Doris Day and Rock Hudson. Today, with little shame, I expose one of my favorites:
Pillow Talk
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.

Does this blog make my butt look big

I'm sitting here trying to catch up on blogs that I enjoy. If you look to your right along the side there is a list of the blogs I try to follow. It ain't easy.
I haven't even made coffee!!! When the desire to write hits; one must hop on the word flow train.

For some reason I turned on the television when I came downstairs. I think my hope was to find an old movie in progress. What I found was a sea of paid programming. I decided to cruise the channels for something that caught my eye or made me chuckle like SHAM-WOW! -- I can't handle those guys yelling at me. I get it. You're excited. But dude! I think you just popped an artery.

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

Getting to know you. Getting to know all about poo

My mother was a big promoter of poop. She wasn't one to fling poo. In fact, I am quite certain her shit didn't stink. Don't turn away and act righteous. Everybody poops. It's a necessary bodily function. In fact, if you aren't doing it then you have bigger problems than being easily offended by a shitty blog post.

Whenever I complained of a belly ache, her question would be, "Have you pooped today?" If I groaned over a headache, her reply would be, "You probably need to poop." If any of us were remotely gassy and incessantly leaving stinkers (she forbid the word fart in our household) the suggestion would be, "you need to go poop."

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.

It's no laughing matter that people are paying more attention to what they leave behind in the toilet. I am one of them. I have always been conscientious of my colon health due to my mother's advice and poor health. The only staple in her diet, that I remember, was Diet Pepsi and cigarettes. I'm sure she ate, but we rarely sat at the table as a family. She picked while she cooked and insisted she wasn't hungry. For all I know, she wasn't eating to make sure one of us could have seconds. In a large family, food is a premium.

In my recent lifestyle change, I'm obviously noticing changes in my body. I have recognized that popcorn and I are not good bathroom buddies. I won't elaborate beyond saying the pain that follows the next day is just not worth the crunchy goodness. I'm not opposed to meat eating. However, beef is another product that is best left in the meat department. I listen to my body. Sometimes, others can probably hear it, too.

Fiber is our friend. It's best consumed via fruit, vegetables and fiber rich cereals. When you first introduce these items to your body you'll notice some discomfort. It'll pass. The key is taking it slowly. Downing a bowl of All-Bran followed by a lunch of broccoli and brown rice might well have an effect of grumbling and gurgling that seems to be bubbling from the bowels of hell. When your body is accustomed to the greasy, grimy, super slimey barrage of fast food and deep fried yuckiness, you owe it to yourself to put up with a little uncomfortable rumbling beneath the surface.
One of my biggest issues with Nutrisystem was the myriad of gastric issues. It's not so much that my bowel movements increased or seemed changed, but I was so blasted gassy. I was bloated. My body had a shocking amount of fiber coming in from every item I put down my gullet. Two months of NS and I finally began to acclimate.

This morning I was watching Good Day Chicago on Fox. As a guest, Dr. Moyad the author of "No BS Health Advice" , discussed the benefits of fiber. He echoed what many before him have said about taking in fiber in it's food form. He said the fiber pills are nothing but a sham. To get a days worth of fiber via the pills one would have to consume 60. SIXTY tablets. Cripes! That's enough to choke on. Flush that idea. Thanks, I'd rather eat a little bowl of All-Bran and get on with my day.
So, how does one know what their doo-doo says about their health? Here's a handy illustrated guide that even a child can understand. Rate your poo and don't get back to me. Do not send me photos so I can help you discern where your health stands. I care, but caring has its limits.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Here's the rub about mascara

Like many women out there I seek out the best products my money can buy. I'm not able to fit high end cosmetics into my budget. That being said, when there's a buy 1 get 1 sale, I take advantage of it. Utilizing store coupons on make-up is always advised when you're on a shoestring budget. Making use of that super saver card you have dangling from your key chain comes in very handy.

For the most part, I am happy with my purchases. Sure, there are instances when a deep wine shade of lipstick ends up my baskets that is not a flattering shade on me. Sometimes I'll be daring and buy an eyeshadow hue that is deeper than my norm, but all in all, I rarely take issue with my cosmetics. That is if you don't include mascara. When it comes to finding a make and model of the eyelash enhancement, I have yet to find one I've been sold on 100%.

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

Sanjaya wants to know who he is

Just when you thought it was safe to return to the truly *cough* talented stage of American Idol, look who rears his fabulously coiffed head: S A N J A Y A! Sorry, he's not ready to be done with his 15 minutes of fame.
Per my usual routine in the morning, I checked my emails. 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!

Tell Me Who I Am - Sanjaya Malakar

Click it. I dare ya. I double dog ... no, I triple dog dare ya!

Monday, January 19, 2009


These words are the first thing that hit my ears this morning was the audio with this video. I was catching up on PLURK. Within a plurk by Miss Attitude asking for inspiration was this video. Topsurf had shared the famous "I HAVE A DREAM" speech by Martin Luther King Jr. in 1963.
I encourage you to take in these words as we are on the thresh hold of a new day in American history.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

A Rupian Interview

There's a craze sweeping the blog nation. At least it's being Swiffered in my little corner of the world. And let's face it, with social networking, my corner is vastly increasing. I just hope I haven't painted myself into my own little corner with this one.
Dearest Ruprecht has challenged me greatly. His interview conducted by Ashton Daigle surpasses anything I could dream of myself. Then again, I am not Rupe nor Ashton. I'm simply delighted to be in company with such brilliant yet warped minds. Warped in those instances is a good thing. This is my blog; my Rupian interview. I'm left to my own devices. Rupe instructed me that he wanted no creative juices tapped. He wants honesty.
So, without further hesitation or contemplation, I give you my answers. Raw. Off the cuff. I'm just letting it roll forth from my skull. Editing be damned. By the way, Imogen Heap chimes in as I write this. iPod earbuds are crammed in my earholes.

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 ( and my post ( 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

The Lab Goddess and Her Magic Butt hole

You read the title correctly. It's written exactly as I intended. There's nothing mystifying about it. BUTT HOLE. Crass? You bet. I've spent a lifetime attempting to be the good little girl 24/7 and it's given me little less than a mountain of frustration. So, my halo is coming off and I'm revealing my horns. I have said this before and I'll say it again: This is my blog and I get to do whatever I want with it. I've reached that certain age when a woman just doesn't give a damn what everybody else thinks. I'm still a nice girl. This is an instance where I need free reign to express myself.
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

Meme-ory lane

Not A Mean Girl tagged me! This meme is a little bit different. I like it. I think you'll all enjoy the results. HA! I literally chuckled when I realized what photo was going to be the subject of the post.

Here are the rules:

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

Casa Riss at night = weirdness

I don't know if it's the winter weather and I have my heat turned up too high or I've piled on too many blankets, but I have had weird dreams. Perhaps I'm running a low grade fever. Just maybe working out is ridding me of toxins that are reeking havoc on my nocturnal thought processes. Let's go with the last suggestion as I want to believe more good is coming from being kinder to my body.
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.
Hello! Weird.
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.

For Yoonie: A White Girl Chair Dance Party!

This video pretty much says it all. Have a wonderful day! Dance like no one is watching -- and post it on your blog!!

Monday, January 12, 2009

Wait. Stop. Go. Stall.

Yep. The title says it all. That's what my brain is doing. I want to write, but there are many thoughts and considerations floating around in that cavernous zone. I've piddled around most of the morning knowing very well I have to go to work. My presence is requested by 10:30 a.m. It's nearly 9:00 am when I start this blathering. You do the math. Time is limited.
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.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Happy Hump Day

DANCE PARTY!!!!!!!!!

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

When the goin' gets tough

... the tough keep on plugging along. 'Cuz that's how we roll, home-skillet!

I've been having a good ol' time video blogging. I have to admit it's a lot easier, but I understand that a little Riss goes a long way. I'm assuming that's why men don't' stick around longer than a month in my life. Those who do just never really go away. Sort of like that mustard stain on your favorite, and usually new, crisp white shirt with the French cuffs. You let the stained shirt hang around because, in a pinch, it serves a purpose, albeit rare and short lived. Once in awhile it comes in handy when it's sweater weather, but the French cuffs don't quite work well with the cardigan or pull-over.

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.

Happy Tuesday!

Switching to (cardio) glide

I'm a woman of few written words this morning. Have a fabulous Tuesday. Gotta run!!!

Monday, January 5, 2009

Monday makes Sunday seem light years away

Hey! It's Monday. I'm feeling better than yesterday. Like, 99.9 % better. I hopped on the scale this morning to discover that I'm down 4.5 pounds from Friday. I'm pretty elated. I've been drinking water rather than soda. I managed to get in some cardio-glide time last night even though I didn't feel like doing it. Feeling hellish all day, I felt justified in not getting on, but it's just too easy to find cop-outs. It wasn't a full 20 minute run, but I worked it enough to ease some of the kinks out of my back.
Have an awesome day. Catch ya later.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Detox and Fonzie was not cool

I woke up this morning feeling sort of icky. As you know, I've embarked on a healthful journey to begin 2009. One might think that eating healthier and exercising would bring about a verve in my step. I was fine for the first two days, but me thinks a combination of female stuff (you know what I mean) and bodily adjustment to the lack of junk food, I am detoxing.
Under the advisement of my plurkalicious gal pals, Jane and Claudia, I am drinking water, water and more water. Not too much as I know I could drown my organs. I may have waited too long to consume my first bite of food. I hadn't eaten anything since my late dinner -- 8 pm -- of baked chicken and green beans. My nausea kicked in after having coffee around 9:30 am. It hit the worst point about two hours later. I thought for certain I was going to evacuate the contents, or lack there of, of my stomach. Fortunately, it subsided after drinking ginger tea.
I apologize for the brevity and nearly humorless video blog. God bless weight loss!!!

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Saturday Sizzle

I hope you all still find me adorable after viewing this one. Spur of the moment and unplanned seems to be the key element thus far in the video bloggery. I get a wild hair up my tuchus and turn on the cam.
Something I learned while attempting to upload this via blogger's video doo-hickey -- vids can't be bigger than 100 MB and, in my case, no longer than 5 minites. Whoopsies! I babbled on a wee bit too long. So, I uploaded my very first video to youtube. It's set for private on the site, though. I'm not ready to get up in the faces of cynical, know-it-all, bratty brat youtubers.

Have a great a great weekend!!

Friday, January 2, 2009

Reality Bites

I've always considered myself a realist. To the extreme optimist, I might have a less than cheery outlook on many things. A pessimist might want to flick me in the forehead for being overly confident in the bright side of things. It's my deepest hope that I am able look at situations at face value and evaluate them without letting my bias or preconceived notions taint my judgement. Wow, that's a mouthful. The bottom line is that I don't want to put a heavy layer of sugar coating on circumstances just so I feel better about them.
This brings me to my weight and appearance. I do all I can to avoid being photographed from the neck down. I have recently found the best way to do that is self-portraits and being the person behind the camera. I like my face.
I joke about having a huge butt. It's no joke that I have big basooms. Bodonkadonk. Junk in the trunk. Cushion for the pushin'. Holy shit! Those thighs have their own zip code! Perhaps a mild exaggeration, but you get the point. I am not a small girl. At 5'10", I have managed to hide my weight and fool people into thinking I'm far less hefty than the scale reveals. I'll never forget going to the doctor for laryngitis 4 days before marrying Cletus. The nurse who weighed me thought for certain the scale was broken and insisted I step on another one. Without a doubt in my mind, the scale would read the same as the one presumed malfunctioning. Even those in the medical profession have been fooled. At my current Jabba the Hutt increasing size, I can't even fool Mr. Magoo.
For the women and men who are content with having extra weight, I applaud you. I live in denial via no full length mirrors. No more.
Denial is never having to look at your "before" picture.
I had Man cub take a photo of me when I got home from work. I was already feeling bloated. I figured why not push my esteem totally in the crapper by means of viewing my not so bodacious body. I put on capri yoga pants and kept the t-shirt on that I'd worn to work. I honestly thought I looked cute before walking out the door for work today.
Denial is overrated.
The purpose for this full length reality bites shot is that, once again, I am embarking on a planned means of losing weight. If you've been following my blog for more than a year, you'll know I attempted hotness via NutriSystem last year. It worked fairly well. Sort of. I felt like I was always on the verge of passing gas. I was losing weight, but feeling bloated all the time. I don' t know how, but I believe they managed to put beans in everything ... including pancake mix and chocolate pudding mix. I feared bending over without breaking wind.
Another downside to such a diet plan is that you are dependent on the slop they call entrees. I have a teen ager who has to be fed. I need to manage making ONE meal that will feed both of us. I am not inclined to being a short order cook. NutriSystem taught me nothing more than how decrease my checking account balance. I will confess that I lost 25 pounds and felt disgusting if I didn't get my 45 to 60 minutes power walks in at least 5 times a week. I got off course when my brother in law passed away. That's all the excuse I needed to push my daily walks aside. I started forgetting all that I had learned about portion control. Since June I have gained back 10 pounds. That is absolutely unacceptable.
That brings me to yesterday. A whim that could very well be the start of a healthier lifestyle. Thanks to a fellow Stuck in the 80s blog and podcast fan, I am now a member of It's new to me, so I can't go into detail how wonderful it is or exactly how it works. I'm learning the how-tos myself. Knowing someone can track me down online and hold me accountable might be the motivation I need to get moving again.
Eating properly will be a new pattern I have develop. Being conscientious of every morsel I put in my mouth is a requisite. Drinking water not soda is an absolute. Getting accustomed to less caffeine will be a challenge. Not putting creamer in my coffee will be a true taste bud challenge, but I've done it once. I can do it again
Viewing my lack of self control or tenacity to follow through with my goal as a failure would be counterproductive. There's no denying that I allowed myself to derail. I think the point is that I have re-evaluated that same goal and I'm taking another path in which to achieve it. I've regrouped and I'm ready for a challenge.

As a very sweet friend said in an email I received yesterday, "chalk up last year as a dress rehearsal. THIS is the year of the Riss!" Excellent advice, Sprezz. I'll take that and run with it ... or at least walk at a very fast pace for cardio benefits.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

On the 1st day of New Year my true love gave to me

Not a rat's ass f'ing thing! He hasn't found me yet. I think the video message will surely lure in a hunka-hunka-burnin' love who suits me to a tee, right? Yes? Probably not? Why I oughta!! What you see on the video is sincerely a dose of what anybody who chooses to hang out with me will get.
Maybe I should adopt the thinking of little Miss Anna Kournikova who is quoted in my WILD WORDS FROM WILD WOMEN daily calendar -- Jan 1, 2009 "I am beautiful, famous and gorgeous. I could have any man in the world." Wow! All that humility and she can play tennis. That is what she's known for, correct? Isn't she more famous for boinking Enrique Iglesias? My Skechers need to meet her boney little ass. That's all I'm saying.
I had a dream about Alton. He was entirely unappealing in nocturnal picture show. It's not to say he was disfigured or behaving badly. He's a truly cute dork. But the attraction just wasn't there. I recall talking to him and then taking a step back as one might do when trying to see a work of art or photograph in a different perspective. With that I asked, "Why was I attracted to you?"
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.