Rapier's Wit

When you look at the photo to the left, what does it say to you? Does it make you laugh? Does it raise question of the sanity of the subject? Would you want to share a glass of Chardonnay with this woman? Would you ask her to be with you during childbirth? She's hilarious and giving. She's loving. She's mom to two of th e most amazing young men you'll ever meet. She was with me during childbirth. Without her I would have hyperventilated. Without her, my life might have taken a terrible turn when our mother passed away in 1981. I was born the day after her 10th birthday. We've had a bond that can't be broken from the moment I took my first breath. For her, I would do anything. Friends, this is the very real face of cancer. Yesterday marked the anniversary of her diagnosis. For 11 years the ghastly mass lay dormant. Then, what I've nicknamed her alien baby, decided to rear its ugly head and grow. If you've read my blog for more than a year, you k

As I sit here in my bra and underwear trying to chill after a hot shower I make certain my webcam faces toward the ceiling. I have this nauseating fear that one day the device will malfunction and it'll be LIVE MARISSA!! (That's not intended to sound sexy. If you saw me you'd realize this fact.) I'm finally off work after working 6 days in a row. Griping about working is probably not a wise thing in this economy where people are being laid off left and right. My sympathy to those who want to work but the state of our affairs is preventing it from happening. My legs and feet ache due to my job requiring me to stand for most of my workday. Support hose may be the ugliest thing, but my gracious! They are a Godsend by the end of an 8 hour shift. Today is the day I get a crown. I know you realize what a princess I am -- well, at least a duchess. It's not the lovely bejeweled tiara I so lovingly deserve. No, this is a dental crown nearly costing as much as the Roy

Pizza. Who doesn't love pizza? If you attended high school in the Kankakee area then you know what I'm talking about. I literally spent most of my teen-age years in this locally loved establishment. Hostess with the mostest at Monical's was my first real job. I loved working there nearly as much as I loved eating there. What's exciting is that Mancub now loves Monical's Pizza . The red tangy salad dressing drizzled over the Family Pleaser salad. Yummy! Monical's isn't just providing quality pizza, salads, pasta and sandwiches. They are graciously helping charities raise funds. That's where you and our Relay for Life team come into the picture. HUNGER FOR A CURE day is Tuesday, April 28. I don't want you to have to cook that day. Instead, you need to download a certificate (that link should take you directly to the download page -- let me know if you have trouble) and take it to the Bourbonnais, Kankakee, Momence or Manteno Monical's.

My outlook on aging is simple: It's inevitable so embrace it. It's been easy for me to wrap my arms around getting older because I've had the pleasure of seeing my sisters grow more beautiful as the calendar years flip by. As the youngest girl in a family of 10, it's rather inspiring to witness great genetics as they unfold through the years. I recall a time when my Unca Chunk called me to let me know he'd received new photos I'd sent via email. He gushed, "just like your mother and sisters, you grow more beautiful with each passing year." Now, I know we all expect beloved family members to shower us with praise. But for me to hear that was like having the heavens opening up and my mother smiling down on me. As a little girl, I had fears I didn't resemble my mother in the least. I'm the only brunette daughter. I was surrounded by blonde haired, blue eyed elder siblings. Mom had strawberry blonde curly locks. A complex about my aesthetic

Today makes the third day off work. Seriously, I need to find a way to make money doing this; screwing around online and in the process maybe hammer out a coherent thought that resonates with whomever stumbles up on my blog (either by accident or intention). This mornin g I had no inclination to do my laundry after Mancub left for school. No, what I fully planned was crawling back into bed for another hour or so. Then, once fully re-rested, I'd make a pot of coffee and chillax with the morning news. Oh, who am I fooling? I would have parked my carcass at this amusement box and goofed around on Plurk or Facebook with an intermittent perusal of one of the blogs I have listed over there ----------> Maybe I should always plan on being Miss Slackerass because, rather than going back to bed, I put on clothes, sorted laundry and hauled my tuchus to the local gas n'sip /launderette. Small town living is just so freakin ' peachy. For a Monday, the gas/laundry facility was

I was just thumbing through my "Wild Words from Wild Women" daily calendar hoping to get a stroke of inspiration to write. It had been collecting dust since February 15 when I moved it from my desk to another shelf. To be quite honest, the thing isn't nearly as wild and witty as I had hoped when I bought it 50% off at Carlton Cards. Yesterday while setting up the lab for the day, I had a running blog post in my head. I could see the words effortlessly making their way on the computer screen. With all the punctuation and typos, it flowed in my mind. It was then that I wished I was more technologically connected. We have no Internet in the workplace. It's understandable. If we did, I would have been fired by now. Instead of the 'attagirl' review I received, I would be filling out my unemployment papers. We aren't even allowed to keep our cellular phones on our person. When my sister Maureen was incapacitated post major surgery, I had to have my cel

I wish I could make a fortune (or at least my current salary with compensation for benefits and paid holidays) doing what I do online for fun. Yes, I realize 99.9% of onliners feel similarly. Oh, you say onliner isn't really a word? I can make up words or forms of words with the snap of my finger. Or more appropriately, with a tappity tap on the keyboard. I believe such a new creation is called a portmanteau word . Pretty freakin' fancy for compound wordery, huh? The other definition of portmanteau is a large suitcase. Whatever. The demonstrative word used in the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary is smog. Smoke + fog = smog . I prefer less obvious but regularly used creations. The more I focus on discovering these kinds of words the more I realize my online vocabulary isn't tonguegasmic. Everybody is doing it. In fact, while reading Jen Lancaster 's book Bitter is the New Black, she uses the word 'craptacular.' I felt such an immediate kinship with h

The eve of Easter was spent blathering online while imbibing in pomegranate martinis. First, martini glasses are just stupid. They look great if you're in a hotel bar or social butterflying at a party provided you aren't walking around. Martini glasses are perfect slosh makers. No thanks. I'll take mine in a beer mug. The upside is less refills. I didn't drink enough to be coerced into any lascivious activities. Yes, I know it's all very sad to those of you who have vast social lives with people of the flesh variety. Don't give me your lectures. I used to possess a healthy social life. Then, I moved back to Illinois. What people also don't understand is that I'm beyond apathetic in regards to meet and greets. I'm not getting into it now. I was home. I was drinking. 'Nuf said. I had no issues waking on Easter Sunday. Me and my heathen self didn't suffer a hangover. Sleeping in, however, was relished. I did awaken around 4 a.m.

Like 30 bajillion other people, I have become mildly addicted to Facebook . Go on and criticize. My friend Sherry thinks my "dicking around" on FB is the cause of my lapse in posting on my blog. There might be some validity in her statement, but not all is lost. No matter what excuse one uses for being on FB -- I'm reconnecting with long, lost friends; it's my family's way of communicating; inane quizzes created by barely literate people rock my world -- we're there and no one seems immune. Much to the dismay of the younger people who believe the world belongs to them and us old folk are just sitting around watching Murder She Wrote dvds and waiting to die, we are joining en masse. Get over yourselves. Without us, you wouldn't have a basement to live in, junior. I digress. One of the many applications available on Facebook is called Living Social . It should be called Living Social; Demented and Sad, but Social. What this app (it's how cool Face

Whenever I go out and about, I try to find humor in the mundane. I've been making this a quest because I need levity. We all need that, right? What's bad about my endeavor to get a giggle at the expense of others is that I tend to have a shoddy memory. Yeah. I forget things as soon as they happen unless, of course, it happened to be directly. How dorky would I look whipping out my nerd-a-rific 3 x 5 spiral notebook? Perhaps if Attitude Bunny was kept in my back pocket?? Or would that be the equivalent of carrying a comb in my pocket that matches my ensemble? At 43 should I be worried about appearing odd? At this rate, at least it might draw some kind of attention, eh? Yesterday while at work, we were discussing the cleanliness habits of our co-workers ... or lack there of. A particular co-worker has been observed only rinsing out a cup he uses regularly before returning it to the cupboard. He doesn't use hot water or soap. Needless to say, the word got around not

In this world of mingling on the interwebs, it's difficult to declare having such a secret world. I do. In my world I am still an insecure little girl striving to gain her rightful place and attention. In a sea of so many choices and options, I have to wonder when I'll be the chosen one. Yes, my inner little girl who speaks today. But the little girl speaks truthfully. With fears of being shunned or rejected, she longs for emotional shelter without waning dedication. I'm not whining nor complaining about my life. I have a good life in terms of intrinsically important values. I have close friends who offer unconditional love. There comes a time when being patient wears thin. A gossamer thread. Patience is not like a well worn pair of Levis that've served dutifully and are comfortable, albeit thread bare and holey. Patience, in this instance, is that emergency pair of underpants that inevitably ride up your crack thereby inducing hemorrhoid like sensations. It&#

I'm just going to blurt this out and release it from my system: I FRIGGING HATE THIS DREADFUL, MIDWESTERN, ARMPIT-OF-AMERICA WEATHER!!!! There, I feel much better. Not so much. It didn't give me the satisfaction I was hoping for. I have to put the blame on something for my funkgasmic mood. I'm not referring to the Earth, Wind and Fire variety of funky, either. If the sun does shine around here it's cold with a wind that cuts through you like a hot blade through butter. I feel like a damned shut in. Something has to give. I'm ready for a death match with Mother Nature. That bitch is going down, my friends. I have enough vitriol in my system that I'm an industrial sized pressure cooker ready to blow. And that's not a good sort of blow. Mother Nature warned us not to mess with her on the margarine commercials. She can kiss my lily white ass, thankyouverymuch. I don't know if this is payback for all the Aqua Net I sprayed on my ginormous hair i