Reflections on 2006

As I sit here waiting for PWTS and his lovely wife to arrive for their weekend visit, I had the urge to write a post. This has become a little intimidating lately as DMC has pointed out, neither of us are particularly good writers and we seem to have lost all sense of what is funny.

Case in point: After an extremely stressful couple of weeks due to killer finals, a major software upgrade that I stupidly scheduled for the week of my killer finals, AND travel over Hell's Half-Acre to visit every person even remotely related to us over the holidays, we decided to rent some crap movies. We're usually pretty good at picking crap.

Our criteria was that the movies couldn't be thought-provoking, stressful or depressing in any way. We made the following selections: Beerfest, Scary Movie 4, Ultraviolet, and Clerks 2. It was quite possibly the most embarrassing Blockbuster checkout we've ever made (you know those clerks are passing judgement on your selections).

Let me be clear: I know my crap and I enjoy crap. I own GoodBurger (best homoerotic thriller EVER) on DVD for Christ's sake. But, these movies really sucked. Granted, I laughed a good bit through Beerfest and Ultraviolet had Mila Jovovich (who is totally hot and on my "Gay List") but, these were beyond our limits.

At first I thought it was the movies but then DMC pointed out that we are no longer the witty, pop-culture enthusiasts we once were. So, the problem was not the movies. It was US. How terrifying. I was feeling really good about 2006 - I actually kept all of my New Year's Resolutions (lose weight, start school and quit smoking - although I did start smoking again during Hell Week). I was thinking this was the best year ever and then discovered, through some shitty movies that somehow over the course of the year I became an old, boring, worthless human being.

Happy Fucking New Year.

Here are the Predictions for 2006. I leave it up to you to let us know which came true (for those that are not obvious):

****CAUTION: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE****

Carol gets camel toe.
Kelli and Hugh form a band (a power duo).
Tim turns gay.
J'ai tube (?) Mme. Cook.
Divorced folks will be allowed to participate with the married swingers.
George Clooney runs for office.
Carrot Top wins an Oscar.
Meghan will finally leave that loser Jeff.
Carol will not get anything on her list done.
Barnes meets his future wife.
Strickland wins, a Dem wins Treasurer. Otherwise, R's win.
Krusty the Clown dies of AIDS.
"I predict a riot" - Kaiser Chiefs (didn't know they were at the party)
Ann will take another nap.
Bad Tinker remarries.
Carol will finally get her 15 minutes of fame on TV.
Lucinda pokes his eye out.
George Bush drinks himself to death, Frist President.
Andy will NOT puke in 2005 on New Year's.
Oliver continues to be randy with the distribution of his seed. Anderson pregnant again.
Barbara gets pregnant.
Kelli and Patrick get engaged.
Jeff's wife will call him a jackass next year.
Tim will still be a cunt.
Jeff will still not quit Taco Hell.
Someone from the Rolling Stones will die.
The Atkins Diet will take a life.
2,500 dead in Iraq.
Pettigrew will not show up.
Saddam Hussein gets own sitcom.
Drunk stuffs prediction box.
George W. Bush's poll numbers plummet.
Gina will break the karaoke machine....again.

I found these to be the most depressing Predictions ever. Especially the one about Carrot Top. Try to think of something positive for this year, people.

Celebrity Death Pool

Given that we've just had Augusto Pinochet, James Brown and Gerald Ford make up a Celebrity Death Triumverate, and seeing as there will be no betting this year due to the discontinuation of the Mavis B/DMC New Year's Party, I thought it was a good time to recap the winners and losers for both 2005 and 2006. (Granted, we have 4 more days to go in 2006 but the bets are down so, we might as well see how it turns out).

Since last year was a blur, I'll remind you all of 2005's Picks. The "(d)" means they died in 2005:

DMZ - Molly Sugden, Eddie Albert (d), Al Molinaro. Power Ball: Hilary Duff
CMA - Richard Pryor (d), Pope John Paul (d), Kirk Douglas
ABB - Pope John Paul (d), Gerald Ford, James Doohan (d)
Flomax - Harry Morgan, Arthur Miller (d), Karl Malden
The Guv'nor - Don Knotts, Pope John Paul (d), Aretha Franklin
Overlord of Smoking - James Doohan (d), Max Schmeling (d), Jack LaLanne. Power Ball: Jonathan Taylor Thomas
CHW - Pope John Paul (d), Grampa Al Lewis, Augusto Pinochet
Cookie - Lady Bird Johnson, James Brown, Pope John Paul (d). Power Ball: Paris Hilton
Cheeky Monkey - Abe Vigoda, Kitty Carlisle Hart, Dick Clark
M500 - Pope John Paul (d), Augusto Pinochet, Gerald Ford. Power Ball: Ray Lewis

UPDATE: Yes, Grampa Al Lewis and Don Knotts are dead but, they died in 2006. So they don't get a "(d)" for 2005. If you notice, y'all tend to pick people the year before they actually die. That doesn't bode well for Jonathan Taylor Thomas.


These are the picks for 2006. In this case, the "(d)" means they died in 2006:

CCS - Meatloaf, Abe Vigoda, Casey Kasem
M500 - Dick Cheney, Jimmy Carter, Gerald Ford (d)
ABB - Gerald Ford (d), Harry Morgan, Conrad Bain
Overlord of Smoking - Jack LaLanne, Kurt Waldheim, Mitch Miller
Mavis B - Dick Clark, Kirk Douglas, Abe Vigoda. Power Ball: Jon Stewart
CMA - Kirk Douglas, Muhammad Ali, Zsa Zsa Gabor
Flomax - Harry Morgan, Karl Malden, Jack Kevorkian
Cookie - Gerald Ford (d), Abbie Hoffman, Milton Friedman (d). Power Ball: Nick Lachey

(I seem to remember there being an argument about the Abbie Hoffman selection so please follow the link on that one and you'll see that everyone was right and Cookie was wrong. )


Two things can be learned from analyzing these lists: 1) You are all very boring, predictable people but 2) when you're really drunk, you can predict the future.

Abe Vigoda is never going to die.

You can check here for updates or to verify over the next couple days. It already has James Brown and Gerald Ford updated. Tomorrow I'll enlighten you with your predictions.

I'll Have a Blue Christmas without You

While my wife talked to her parents on the phone, I jumped online to check my e-mail and saw that James Brown died early this morning. Celebrity deaths seldom trouble me--I don't think I was even upset when John Lennon was assassinated--but Brown's passing saddens me, even if he had reached the rather ripe old age of 73, considering his Keith Richard-like excesses.

I'm mostly sad for those who will only know him from Saturday Night Live and Mad TV skits and other imitations, from oldies radio stations, and from (grand)parents' record/CD collections, much like Elvis is for me and others from my generation or younger. They'll never truly know the dynamism, soul, and joy he brought to the world during his time on this earth.

I'm very happy, though, I did get to see him perform years ago in Knoxville. Maybe he wasn't up to his early 1960s exuberance, but he put on a hell of a dynamic show for a man in his sixties, or for a man of any age, for that matter. The concert was outside in the rain, but no one seemed to care, we were having so much fun.

So I now listen to my Brown CDs with a bit of poignancy but thankfulness, too. Here's hoping that future generations not only enjoy his artistry but also exhibit the good will and generosity to forgive future James Browns who early (or even late) in life get into a bit of trouble so that they may blossom and offer their gifts to the world.

Eddie Murphy is Dead to Me

How dare he do this to Scary.

The Grunt of the Human Hog

The title of this post is how slang was described by Ambrose Bierce. The great thing about blogging, and wanting to provide links, is that you learn interesting things - like Bierce is from Meigs County, Ohio. I will need to look into him further.

The point of this post though, was to follow up on a drunken promise to discuss the Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang in greater detail.

The dictionary only has two volumes available. Volume 1 is A to G and it weighs 6 lbs. That means it includes bookoodles of words, beginning with A-G. The first entry is "A", as a Noun, partial euphemism for "ass". Each entry includes several documented uses of the word. (I think Lighter required a certain number before a word could be included in the book.) An example in this entry is "1991 G. Trudeau Doonesbury (synd. cartoon strip) (Apr. 29): Ray! Time to haul A, man! We're moving out in ten minutes!" Six pages are dedicated to the word, "fuck".

Volume 2 is H to O. As I pointed out in a previous post, that spells Ho, which is slang for whore. HO only weighs 4 lbs. My copy is signed "To Mavis and DMC - Best Wishes, J. E. Lighter". Aj very good friend got it for me as a gift. This one starts with "H" for Hell. (Didn't see that coming, did you?) The Project Editor on this edition, Jesse Sheidlower, is also the editor of a dictionary called "The F Word" which was a best seller. Sheidlower is now the Editor of the Oxford English Dictionary.

Lighter refused to finish the dictionaries because he supposedly felt his work was being taken too lightly. He didn't want his work to be trivialized and reduced to just lists of dirty words for shits and giggles. I don't blame him a bit.

I was devastated when I found out Lighter had no intention of completing the dictionary for Random House. However, while researching this post I discovered that Lighter's Oxford Historical Dictionary of American Slang, which will be the next volume in this set, was due out late 2006. So, if this is true, I will be a very happy woman.

You can read a really good interview with J. E. Lighter here. The man is a genius. PWTS will need to decide whether or not he wants to reveal any details of what it was like to actually work with Lighter on one of these dictionaries. I can only say that his dictionaries truly are the best of any I've seen.

"A truly unexpurgated collection of slang reminds us that the world of discourse, like the world of sense, is savage as well as sublime." —J. E. Lighter, American lexicographer and slanguist, Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang, 1994

Chevy Chase *updated*

Anyone who knows me well knows I love slang. Particularly foul, sexually explicit slang. It just cracks me up. And "felch" is always a favorite. It's so shocking! So few people know what it is!

This week it came up at work. My coworker asked if someone was "filching" and I misheard it. I said, "Did you just say, "felching"? No one knew what I was talking about. They became curious. They pressed the issue.

Being somewhat modest due to a strict Protestant upbringing (we only have sex, we don't talk about it), I couldn't tell them the definition. I made them look it up on that new-fangled Internet thingy. Turns out, it's on Wikipedia (also home to a very nice definition of Mad Dog). No where near the quality of the Random House Dictionary of American Slang - of which I am reportedly a contributor, thanks to PWTS - but pretty decent nonetheless.

The best thing about the Wikipedia entry is that it has the "Cultural References" section. However, this one neglected the "Family Guy" reference - a marquee for Chevy Chase in "Felch". That was a play on "Fletch". Get it?

While we're at it, if anyone knows the definition of "donkey punching" (not in terms of logging), please share. It's a current research question.

I will discuss the Random House Dictionary of American Slang tomorrow, at greater length. You will find that if you Google it, you find it is not complete. That is disturbing as it is the best, most well researched dictionary of slang I've ever found. It's a shame (and yet fitting) that it was never published past the H-O volume. Which, for those who are completely stupid, spells HO. As in whore or prostitute.

UPDATE: I took the 2 minutes or less it requires to Google "donkey punch". That's on Wikipedia too! My parents are going to start thinking Wikipedia is the Antichrist if they keep this up! Some people think Wikipedia is all lies but personally, I believe every single word.

I would also like to note that, as an MBA candidate, I may at some point be required to write a paper where I can use the phrase "donkey punch" since it was apparently used to refer to some Enron dealings.

Sex, business and politics. So much in common.

High Price of Fame

While PWTS chooses to discuss more high-brow topics like Buddhism, cats and ethnic eats, I will go decidedly low-brow. And I'll be brief.

I was looking through the celebrity gossip pages today (what is becoming a horrible escapist habit for me) and I discovered the greatest sex toy ever. Amazingly, this specific sex toy happens to show up on the grocery list hanging on my fridge every time we have company.

Would someone on your Xmas list enjoy one of these? Remember, Cyber Monday is in only two days! Do your part for the economy.

Great Expectations

What I am thankful for? Tomorrow I get to see the Buddha! Or at least what remains of him. He and a number of other buddhas are coming to town as part of the Heart Shrine Relics Tour, before they (that is, their remains) are kept permanently in the 500-foot buddha statue being built in India as part of the Maitreya Project. I'm going to the opening ceremony Friday, when I hope a Blessing Ceremony gets performed, where the relics would be placed on my head. I'm hoping Buddha can make me a nice person, but my wife says even Buddha doesn't have that much power.

Regardless, I'm still happy Buddha has come to see me on my birthday (not my actual birthday, but the day I'm celebrating it because I have the day off from school). I was already looking forward to birthday kimchi, seaweed salad, and wakame from my favorite Korean market. The wakame is especially fishy-smelling as sea vegetables go, which irritates my older, smarter cat and puzzles my younger, dimmer cat to no end. The last time I had wakame, the older cat sat atop her claw-and-climb sniffing, anticipating the delicious aroma of fish until she saw the smell was coming from my bowl and realized she was mistaken. Trust me to eat the only crap in the sea.

The younger cat was far more perplexed. She ran around the house squeaking, trying to find the fish. Numerous times her nose led her to my bowl, but when I offered her bits of wakame, she squeaked, "No, I don't want grass. I know you've got fish? Where is it?" I almost felt sad for the torture I was causing her, but the wakame tasted so good.

Desire is the root of all suffering.

Frankie the Keener Weener

I can finally show you what I've been bitching about. It's really freaking me out.

Projects for the Week

I have two projects that I have been working on this week. I consider them high priority.

1) Get as many people at work as I can to use the phrase "Sphincter Spasm" in conversation with one of my coworkers. This has been only moderately successful as people seem to have a lot of issues with the word "sphincter". I've had to direct some people to use it in email if they truly feel they can't say it with a straight face. I do not understand what is so difficult.

It is proving to be much more of a challenge that the "Moist Nub" project of 1999. I'm entertained by that particular project to this day as most of my friends have adopted the phrase into their every day vocabulary. I was hoping for similar success with Sphincter Spasm. We'll see.

2) Learn enough of Fergie's (from Black Eyed Peas) "Fergilicious" to customize it to sing to my cat Kodi (who is Kodilicious). He has seemed really bored lately with my rendition of "Kodilicious" as sung to the tune of "Bootylicious" so I think he's ready for a change.

I've gotten this far:
"He's Kodilicious
If you pet him he'll get vicious
He's Kodilicious
He thinks fish are delicious
Kodilicious"

I'll post a photo of Kodi later so you can enjoy his irritated expression as much as I do.

There is nothing funnier than singing stupid songs to your cat. You can just tell you're grating on their nerves and they think you're ridiculous. Endless hours of entertainment.

In other news...
I've had a hard time getting past yesterday's post because I keep thinking of things that really anger me. By "anger me" I mean, make me want to beat something/someone with a baseball bat. It's not a long list. It includes (but is not limited to):

1. Nickleback
2. Creed
3. Woody Allen
4. "Girl from Impanema"
5. The book "Bridges of Madison County"

It's a work in progress.

Happy Birthday to C.U. NextTuesday!

Two (I mean Three) Things That Have Me Riled Up Today

1) I had to follow ANOTHER truck with a Giant Winking Weiner Logo on it this morning - this time the vendor was Superior. I can't remember the website or else I'd link to a picture of that irritating little fucker.

2) Time magazine releases its All Time 100 Albums list and they fucking included Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys. I think that is such a load of crap. Anyone who would put that album on their list is just doing it so people think they're cool. The record is irritating, to say the least. I fucking hate the Beach Boys.

3) The irritation over Pet Sounds stirred up my extreme hatred of Woody Allen, as I was thinking of the level of my hatred of Pet Sounds and came up with, "It's on the level of my hatred of Woody Allen." Now I'm just sitting here at work having hateful thoughts about Woody Allen and the Beach Boys.

I am glad I'm finally focusing on the important things in life instead of worrying about my shitty job and school.

Thank A Veteran Today

And I don't just mean the WWII or Vietnam Vets. Everyone. My brother is a veteran of Desert Storm. My uncle Tom is Vietnam Vet. I have uncles on my dad's side that fought in WWI, WWII, Korea. At one point my grandma had 4 sons in the War. A salesman I've worked with for years is a passionate Vietnam vet who is active with many veteran's groups. The guy in my department served in the Marines. They are all special to me.

Military service is not an easy thing - for the guys in the military or for their families. It's hard. And it deserves respect - regardless of where you fall on the Right to Left scales ( I lean left, by the way).

I can't express what I want to say in a way that will give it any justice so I'll just leave it at that. Make a phone call, send an e-card.

Just say thanks if you have the chance.

Today Was a Beautiful Day

Today was mostly dark, cold, and rainy here in Charlotte, but it was a beautiful day. If I didn't know that I am very insignificant and my actions have little effect, I might think my giving money to homeless people yesterday helped make today such a good day. I know, though, that I had only a very small part in making today so beautiful. I felt so good today that I let my students go home early and gave my cats extra treats. I even had a couple of celebratory drinks tonight. I know that Mavis has banned politics from this blog, so let me just say today was a wonderful day, one of the best I have experienced in the past six years. I somehow doubt my Ohio comprades would disagree. And to top it all off, Comedy Central reran the Rick James episode of Chappelle's Show. Today was a beautiful day.

Your Curse Has Ended, Evil Third Grade Teacher

I was a very cute, peppy, happy little kid in K through 3rd grade. I may have even been popular. And I was smart. Then, I had a math test that I didn't do so well on. The Evil Mrs. Papcum (yes that is her real name, real spelling) took me out in the hall and said, "Mavis, some girls just can't do math. And you're probably one of them."

My life went down hill from there. I became socially awkward and discheveled. My popularity sank. My grades became average.

I never did well in Math after that. I drifted toward the readers and writers and away from the scientists and math whizzes. I preferred the artistic kids. I became a punk rocker/goth weirdo in high school. Not that there's anything wrong with that but it doesn't exactly put you on the popularity track in high school. I was teased, ridiculed, humiliated by my peers.

I never passed a math class in college. Not even remedial math, Algebra 095 (it wasn't even a 100-level course). I took it 3 times and I was pathetic. I would have horrible anxiety attacks during the tests - I couldn't breathe. I felt alternately hot and cold. I felt like my brain and my bowels would explode simultaneously. I turned in blank tests. I switched majors just so I wouldn't have to pass Algebra and got by with a Computer Science 200 course on Basic programming (I got a C).

Damn you, Mrs. Papcum.

However, on Tuesday, October 31st, 2006, Mrs. Papcum's evil curse ended. I got an 88% on my Statistics midterm (which in Grad School is an A!). It was one of the highest grades in the class. I'm pushing 40 but I hung that fucking test on the refrigerator. No one will take that away from me.

Victory is Sweet. I am the Smartest Girl in the World and I Am Good At Math.

An Un-Unibomber

My brother and I once had a conversation in which he said he totally thought Ted Kasinsky had the right idea - except for the bombs, lack of electricity and lack of indoor plumbing.

It took me a minute but I realized he meant living as a recluse. And Ted Kasinsky was the most popular recluse of the time. I thought my brother was nuts when he said this. Who in their right mind would want to live alone in a shack in Montana?

I'm having one of those days when that sounds pretty damn good.

Open Wide for Cleveland's Pride

I followed a truck down I-77 that had a giant hot dog on the back of it. I think the name of the company was "King's Weiners" (they just HAD to use the word "weiner"). I can't really remember if that was the name of the company because I just kept starting at their tagline:

Open Wide for Cleveland's Pride

The whole way down 77 the thoughts were racing through my mind: "Does that mean Cleveland's Pride is a Weiner? Does that mean Cleveland should swallow its pride? Is that weiner winking at me?"

I did not need to read that in big bold letters while driving at 7:30 in the morning.

Not-the-Friday-Question/Shameless Request #2: Heroes and Villains in American Culture

I am also teaching a class called "Heroes and Villains in American Culture." I am thinking of dividing the semester up by type of hero/villain, such as superheroes and supervillains, working-class heroes and corporate villains, outlaws and corrupt officials. (I haven't found comparative heroes for my favorite categories of villain--femme fatales and mad scientists.)

Who are your favorite/most hated heroes and villains, whether fictional or real?

Not-the-Friday-Question/Shameless Request #1: The 1970s

This spring I'm teaching a class on the 1970s. My students will have easy access to movies, music, and some television from the 1970s, but what has weathered the past three decades isn't necessarily what was most popular or striking at the time. Likewise, my students can read history books, but what historians record isn't always what was on people's brains at the time.

In other words, I want to help my students understand the 1970s as someone who lived through them might instead of in the kitschy and snarky way VH1 presents them (although there is plenty of kitsch in any decade).

If you are old enough to remember any part of the 1970s, what sticks out most to you when you think of the decade?

Major Bad Ass

I stopped posting because a) no one was reading and b) I started back to school. That's where I've been. What have You been up to?

I have been toying with the idea of getting my MBA for some time now. I've been out in the workforce long enough to have worked with some MBAs. Many times I've thought to myself, "If this moron could do it, how hard could it be?" It seemed like something the most incompetent, highly paid people in any organization would do.

I wanted to be highly paid and incompetent. I think I'd be good at it.

So, I started back this fall and it is much harder than I thought. I feel bad for thinking all of those MBAs I've worked with are stupid. Turns out they're not stupid at all. They're just assholes.

Friday Question for July 28, 2006

In the spirit of excessive flooding in Northeast Ohio, here is today's question (beware - it is rather bitter in nature):

If you could have one city or town completely wiped off the planet, which city or town would it be and why?

I would eliminate Hell, Pennsylvania or Intercourse, Pennsylvania. I think they just get too much leverage out of those names. They need to pick new names that are less ridiculous and more respectable. I have no time for humor such as this. Eighty-Four is not far behind on that list either.

I'm sure there are Ohio towns with names like that but they seem to be more quiet about it. Less "in your face", if you will.

Friday Question for July 21, 2006

Sorry for the delay. I actually felt motivated to work today. Kind of.

Here is the question:

If you could have one superhero or supernatural power, what would it be and why?

I'm sure the question has been asked before but situations and needs change. You may have needed supersonic hearing last year but today you need to be invisible.

Personally, I would like teleportation abilities. Yes, gas prices suck (especially with a Jeep Wrangler getting 14 miles to the gallon). But more than that, I hate long drives and the anxiety and anticipation that occurs on the way to my destination. I could be a lot more productive if I didn't have to waste so much time getting around. Plus, I could skip out of work easier and go to all sorts of exotic places for lunch.

Sugar Free Jello.
Jiggles and wiggles around.
I spilled on my desk.

Friday Question for July 14, 2006

Sorry about missing last week. It was a bad Fourth for me. I'll address that later.

The Question today is:

As a child, did you play/pretend to be any characters in a TV show? If so, what shows did you play?

I greatly enjoyed pretending I was on Battlestar Galactica. I had a friend that had a huge, old, oddly designed house that we would pretend was the spaceship. And Apollo was in love with me.

I would also pretend to be Wonder Woman while wearing paper bracelets to deflect the bullets my brother was shooting at me.

And, I occasionally pretended I lived on Little House on the Prairie in our backyard. We had a huge yard in the middle of corn and soybean fields. My dad would cut up big cardboard boxes or giant wooden crates to look like houses for me to play in. I'd make bread and soup out of all the weeds in the field next door. I thought milkweed pods looked like fish.

I hate my damn job
Humiliate me some more,
please. Mega Millions.

Friday Question for June 30, 2006

There are some very serious music collectors in our crowd. And they have some strong opinions about what is good and what is not. I find I can't live up to their standards. Sometimes I like to listen to "crap". A good, cheesy pop song has its place, in my opinion.

So, the Friday Question is this:

What are your Top 5 Favorite "Crap" Music Choices? In other words, if you want to go Balls Out you listen to _________ but if you need some mind candy you listen to __________.

Here are mine, as an example. As you will see, I have no shame.

1. Barry Manilow
2. Spice Girls
3. Avril Lavine
4. Backstreet Boys
5. Justin Timberlake (Not N'Sync. They are hacks.)

The new Kelly Clarkson has given me some moments of joy recently but I'm not ready to elevate her to Spice Girls Status just yet.

Crap music choices
Lame lyrics and simple tunes
Make me feel happy

Finally, a Friday that I have a moment to pee and check my email and THERE'S NO FRIDAY HAIKU! Boo!

I have a problem.
Impulse buy. Shoes. Before work.
Bought a muffin too.

Speaking of shoes, where do all those shoes come from that are hanging from the telephone wires? I seem to see them everywhere. And when one gets so old and waterlogged that it finally falls off, another one (or two) appear a few blocks away. I'm puzzled by it, afraid, and angry. Puzzled: how do they get there? why would you throw your shoe up on a telephone wire? Afraid: I am sure one will fly off there in the wind and kick me in the face. Angry: It just makes me angry. I want to grab them and take them all down, but I'm afraid I'll get electrocuted.

Rainy Days and Wednesdays

As I sat in my office looking through the blurry glass, I realized that the sunny blue sky was starting to fade into a black vortex. Deep, dark rain clouds were blowing across the corn tops faster than a popcorn kernel in hot oil. I lept (not really, more of a scuffle) to my feet and raced for the car, determined to outrun Mother Nature.

I didn't.

The rain came down in sheets, filling up the streets like a bathtub. Tornado sirens were blaring from every direction as the lightning jolted the night-like sky back into instant day. Trees and debris covered the roads. I made it, however, and rushed into the house to towel dry while glued to the emergency broadcast signal on the TV. The screen read, "tornado warning," but the underlying music said, "booorn to be wiiiiillllddd, boooorn to be wiiilllddd, ... get your motor running (da da da da da) head out on the highway (da da da da da) looking for adventure..."

People at the Wood County Emergency Agency are idiots.

and Bad Company came on next.

Friday Question (and Haiku) for June 23, 2006

If you could create a brand new creature by combining any three creatures currently in existence (as in no dinosaurs), what three would you use? For bonus points, what would you name it?

Vacation Wrap Up

I was on vacation in Hilton Head last week, thus the lack of a Friday question. It was a very relaxing week.

I swam in the ocean a mere 15 feet away from some dolphins. I know they are kind and gentle beings but they are quite large. It freaked me out. When I got back into the office, one of my coworkers told me he heard that male dolphins have been known to molest human female swimmers. As in try to mate with them. I don't know if that's true but that freaked me out even more.

I saw an alligator swimming in a ditch. Thankfully, I was in the car at the time.

Every morning I would drink my coffee out on the deck and watch the squirrels knock each other out of the palm trees. Apparently squirrels also always land on their feet. They make quite a thud when they hit the ground too. All survived.

A 4 foot snake fell out of a tree onto the deck right next to my dad's chair. The snake survived, as did my dad. Dad is reportedly still experiencing nightmares. Surprisingly, I thought it was kind of cool.

I held a blue crab.
I ate a raw oyster and didn't puke.
I got sunburned on part of my butt cheeks because of my stupid "boy shorts" bathing suit bottoms.

And, I saw this incredibly ugly duck/chicken/turkey bird. Andy called him a "turducken" after a recipe of the same name (which is a chicken stuffed in a duck stuffed in a turkey or something like that). We named him Frank. Frank is pictured above. I'm currently trying to find out what kind of bird this is. Frank was hanging out with a bunch of standard issue mallard-types who didn't seem to notice that he didn't quite fit in.

Friday Question and Haiku

Borrowing an idea from NursePez, here is your Friday question:

When you want to rock and go "balls out" while driving in the car, what CD do you play?

My answer would be Metallica "Ride the Lightening".

Haiku:
Haiku-O-Matic
When I don't feel creative
You will rescue me.

To recommend a particularly entertaining website: http://www.smalltime.com/haiku.html

And may I also add that "balls out" is one of my favorite slang terms. Which is odd because technically, I'm not able to go balls out. As in, I have no balls.

People Bug Me

I find that as I get older, I have less and less patience for people who bug me. For example, as few weeks ago I was at a acoustic performance in Ann Arbor Michigan. The artist was Glen Phillips, formerly of Toad the Wet Sprocket. As we are leaving the performance, I hear some jack ass behind me say "you know, this was fine, but the best thing I heard him say all night was that Toad is touring. His solo stuff is fine, but I was hoping for more rocking." OK, what is wrong with the statement? Two things. Number one: Acoustic shows by definition are acoustic and thus tend not to "rock". Number two: Does he even know Toad the Wet Sprocket? When I want to balls out rock with the car windows down and one hand out the window doing the devil ear sign, Toad the Wet Sprocket is not my first choice. Or my tenth choice for that matter. What an idiot. I was feeling so awesome after the show, then this guy made my blood boil. Next time dude, keep your lame self at home.

Friday Question

This week you have a choice:

What is your deepest, darkest neurosis? Or, what is the geekiest aspect of your personality?

Haiku:
Can one's head explode?
Ina gada da vida
One too many times.

(Courtesy of my friend Nikki).

Match Report

I'm quite proud to say I've only ever watched REAL football in Cleveland Browns Stadium. I will now pause while you make snarky comments.....

I had the pleasure of watching the US Men's National Soccer Team (currently ranked 5th in the World) play Venezuela (currently ranked 71st in a tie with the UAE and Slovenia) last Friday night. Good crowd, nice weather, refreshing beer. Many Venezuelans in face and body paint. I think most of them were seated in our section.

Many of you know I've been making a very half-assed attempt to learn Spanish over the last two years. I wish I would have studied harder. Then I could have fluently repeated a phrase that translated to English allegedly meant, "I'm going to stick my thumb up your ass and make you play like a real man." This is what the Venezuelan's were shouting gleefully at our US Team for much of the match.

It was all in good fun though and no hooliganism erupted. Thankfully, the US won 2-0. No thumbs were needed.

(Patriotic Americans can start cheering the US on in the World Cup June 9th. Get your schedule here. Remember, if you're not with us, you're against us -although personally I will also be cheering on England.)

Can't we just all say what we mean?

OK, so now that I serve as an editor, I'm really peeved with people's writing. What makes people think that if they use big, jargon words they'll sound smarter.

To facilitate the process, our experienced team will engage a dynamic acquisition process to acquire tools that further the efforts of our technical experts to coordinate and collate data sources in adjustable packets that can be transformed as required.
-We'll buy some paper clips.

Friday Question and Haiku

Dead bunnies in yard
Mystery monster in car
CCS Drama

I just finished watching Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations on the US/Mexican border. Which got me to thinking about what it would be like to have a wall between the US and Mexico. Then I thought about food (because he eats a lot - in between drinking and smoking). Then I thought about what it would be like if the wall was built of food. Like the Corn Palace. So the question this week is....

If you could build a structure entirely out of an edibile material, what would the structure be and what would you use to build it?

Dead bunnies aren't much fun

There's a dead bunny in my yard. It's not just like sleeping dead, it's like fucked up dead. I don't think I mowed it, I think it was already like that. If you have never read Stephen King's Pet Cemetery, don't. I have locked myself inside my house for fear that the dead bunny will come to life later tonight. I'm pretty sure it will, in fact. And I'm not sure the harm a bunny is capable of, but it can't be good. Something involving teeth. Or flinging its little pellets of poo at me until one of the nuggets gets lodged in my eye.

My mail lady is gay. She leaves little notes in my mailbox telling me that I'll "get the gay" if I touch the mail she has delivered. She said, unlike powders or poisons, the Federal Government cannot detect "the gay" therefore she can spread it all over town like a homosexual crop duster. I wish she had told me that after my federal tax refund came in the mail.

Friday Question and Haiku

Raining eight days straight
I am over-hydrated
Too bad it's not beer

Here is the Friday Question. You may answer in the comments.

If you could live your life as the character of a TV show, who would you be and why?

First Friday Haiku

This used to be a tradition amongst some friends. I think I will start it up again. In fact, the blog may be a good place to reinstate the Friday Question as well. I will confer with Chinese Chicken Salad and release a statement later this week.

Ginormous Raccoon
Dead on the side of the road.
You can't hurt me now.

I think Chinese Chicken Salad has a raccon in the WWII trunk.

Paranoid

Of course it was raining. It's always raining when creepy things happen. Cinematography didn't make that up; it's fact. So as I'm driving home today, singing along to my "Girls Girls Girls" CD compilation - no, not a mix of Motley Crue ballads, which would be okay really, but this is a collection of songs about girls or by girls or with "girls" in the title. It's a pretty random but enjoyable mix covering ground from (can you name that tune?) "Girlfriend, I'm gonna tell your boyfriend, YEA, tell him (woo-hoo) tell what we're do-in, YEA..." to "oh yea, all right, take it easy baby, make it last... (make it last all night!)" to "I've got a secret or two about Goo, she likes to wear green underwear." So I'm driving home, in the rain, and I hear a noise coming from the trunk in the back. It's a dusty old trunk, and it's filled with WWII memoribilia. Uniforms, photographs, gas mask, you know? But it's not a noise like I just turned the corner too fast and the trunk bumped up against the inside of the car. And it's not a noise like something is rattling around and bumping into the trunk. It's the kind of noise like from someone banging on the inside of the trunk. Like the noise you would make if you were inside the trunk and knocking to get out.

I parked my car at the Dairy Queen and just walked away.

Political Blogging

I got a little hooked on political blogs a while back. They made me stressed, anxious and angry. It was not a happy time. Turns out they are a very mean group of people (at least in Ohio) and I watched them attack someone like a pack of hyenas. I'm pretty sure you have to some sort of personality disorder to be a political blogger. Of course, not all of them are bad (Pho's Akron Pages, for example) but I have to severely limit myself to prevent a relapse.

There is a strict "No Politics" rule on my blog because that experience was so traumatic for me.

That being said, I've been wanting to confess for some time now that whenever I hear a song by Gilbert O'Sullivan (such as Alone Again, Naturally, Claire or Ooh Wakka Doo Wakka Day - the only three songs I know), I think of Dennis Kucinich.

Dennis doesn't look like Gilbert, probably doesn't sound like Gilbert and I've never seen him photographed with Gilbert. He was Mayor of Cleveland a good number of years after Alone Again Naturally was a hit so I have no idea how I made this connection.

Does the confession make this a political blog?

Monkey Business

My work has a Caribbean-themed benefit next weekend. The dress is "Caribbean Casual" and I wanted to be festive. I got it in my head that I wanted a monkey dress for the party. Preferably one with monkeys wearing hats. (I like it when monkeys wear hats but I do not like Monkey Hats.)

By the way, while searching for a picture of a monkey in a hat to share with you, I came upon this lovely tale about a lion, a monkey and a rabbit. You may want to check it out.

Adult clothing with monkeys is hard to come by. I've searched high and low and only came up with a dressy-dress that was white with light taupe monkey silouettes. Not the least bit festive. I didn't buy it. I want real colorful monkeys, in hats, playing bongos and hanging out in palm trees. Who the hell wants to buy a "serious" monkey dress? Puh-lease.

If you don't believe me, you will find that an e-Bay search will give you a large number of monkey-related clothing items and they are all for children. A friend at work says her daughter has a lovely pair of jeans with a sequined monkey on them. This is not fair. As an adult I think I'm entitled to more monkey-wear than just Paul Frank pajamas and some silly t-shirts.

I want a pair of jeans with a sequin monkey. It's too late for the party dress but does anyone want to BeDazzle me some monkey pants?

Diminishing Returns

Six months ago I had my first conversation ever with a man who spent the entire time staring at my tits. Most of my life I've been a small-breasted woman and somewhat of a tom-boy so the experience was a landmark. I have to admit, I kinda liked it.

Of course then I was about 60 pounds heavier and had some tremendous tits. I was wearing tighter shirts and spent a good bit of my days staring down at them. I now understand why men in the movies always make the joke that if they had boobs they'd just play with them all day long. At times I was very tempted.

Well, those days are gone. Over the last six months I've gone down four bra sizes and one cup size. Disheartening to be sure. I've also gone down five clothing sizes. I look good, I feel great. All is well with the world. However, the transition has not been without its difficulties.

Since I've been losing weight steadily, I've been hesitant to buy clothing until things stabilize. So, I have a lot of pants that are a size or two (or three) too big. They are very comfy. Like wearing pajamas to work every day. However, I can never tell if my zipper is up or down because my pants are so baggy. I've developed OCD in that I check my zipper constantly.

I've always been vehemently opposed to belly shirts but now I find myself wanting one. I'm uncomfortable with that.

On the upside, I've been able to squeeze into the car when my husband parks it too close to the garage wall (which he does daily). This used to be a real problem for me. I had a little scare this morning when it seemed a little tight. Then I realized he's just probably trying to inspire me to reach my Weight Watchers goal, which is why he parked about 6 inches from the wall last night. I think he figures the closer he parks, the more I'll lose (which is odd because he's particularly fond of breasts).

My Friend Mogen David

The Wikipedia entry for MD 20/20 completely blew my mind. It not only specifically mentions Kiwi (which, along with Banana Red was one of my favorites) but it also has Boone's Farm listed under the See Also.

To clarify, I was not a Wino or a teenager during the summer of Bricks and Sticks (as the Wikipedia entry implies drinkers of Mad Dog are). I was just a very, very broke college student who was attracted to any alcohol that came in a variety of colors. For $1.99 a bottle. A little loose change.......

"What a wonderful, wonderful time I had!"

Liar Liar

About 15 years ago my best friend and I went through a phase where we'd make up ridiculous stories to try to start rumors amongst our friends. One involved LaToya Jackson and some snakes. Details are fuzzy but I assure you it was good.

One involved our friend Walter. He was living in Kansas and since he was so far away and somewhat notorious we considered him fair game. Plus, we knew he'd back us up if anyone asked.

The story was that Walter had gotten thrown in jail for starting a bar fight over some issue that, at the time, was quite hilarious. Unfortunately, I can no longer remember what it was that Walter had said or done to get himself in such trouble. My forgetfulness is courtesy of Mogen David 20/20 (then, not now) so please excuse me.The content of the story is not relevant at this point anyway. What is important is that the story was very successful and we had a lot of believers (elevating Walter to celebrity status in some cases).

A couple of months ago my friend and I were reminiscing about the success of this project and how funny it was. How many people believed us! How ridiculous was the story! We were so crazy!

Then my husband (who I met in college says), "You mean that wasn't true? Walter was never in jail?"

Apparently we graduated without revealing the truth. As we now only see Walter every couple years, he was not able to set the story straight either.

I almost felt bad. Almost.

Should We Talk About the Weather?

Writing regularly is much more difficult than I thought. Part of the challenge is that I don't want anything to do with a computer once the work day ends. Sigh. I hate my job.

This weekend we watched "The Weatherman" starring Nicolas Cage. Very depressing moving. Anyone who knows me knows I don't deal well with depressing movies. It put me in a funk the rest of the weekend.

At the end of the film, Nicolas Cage's character has a little monologue in which he talks about how when you're young, you spend a lot of time thinking about all of your possibilities - everything you could be, everything you could do. As you get older, those possibilities are slowly eliminated until one day, all you're left with is who you are. The true you. In this case, a weatherman.

The concept was quite mind-blowing and this is where my head spent the weekend.

As I approach the big 4-0, I think that is what is happening to me. I'm realizing that I'm not going to be a DJ or supermodel, hip bass guitar chick, famous actress, world traveling businesswoman or any of the million other things I occasionally fantasize about.

I need to find out who I am and accept that. I need to own it and be at peace with it.

Strange Things Mystifying

The closest I come to religious observance during the Easter holiday is listening to the soundtrack to Jesus Christ Superstar. It's been my tradition for about 10 years now. Some may consider this disrespectful but it is a Passion play after all and I see no problem with enjoying a Jesus that knows how to Rock.

Now, my annual Good Friday Porch Sit and Beer Binge is clearly sacreligious and I'm willing to accept any and all consequences related to that bit of debauchery. I'm greatly looking forward to that tomorrow (although my husband has the day off work, which will seriously hinder my ability to go balls out this year).

It's important to note that I truly believe that no God of mine will ever make me eat fish. I hate fish. Shellfish is fine, just not the non-seabug variety. My God understands that and he has no problem with it. We've discussed it at length.

These are the sorts of comments that make my parents think I am an atheist. They could not be more wrong. I'm not an atheist but I'm definitely not a Missouri Synod Lutheran either. I just have some different ideas regarding faith, spirituality and any answer to the question, "What Would Jesus Do" Example: I believe Jesus would vote Democrat most of the time. He'd be okay with letting gays marry and adopt children. He wouldn't like abortion but he wouldn't be a jackass about it. He'd oppose the death penalty. He wouldn't wear a "WWJD" bracelet and act like an asshole at work.

It's upsetting that people can't talk about religion without getting in a fight over it. It's disturbing that people take whatever they're told by religious leaders as the absolute truth and never bother to question or explore what they think or feel. I get a lot out of my spiritual explorations and its unfortunate that there are very few people I can talk to about this (In fact, I can think of only one.)

I think agreeing to disagree should be worked into the Ten Commandments somewhere. And the whole Easter holiday needs to be reworked. People should have to act out Jesus Christ Superstar at church. More Rocking and Ham, less Fish.

The Wrong Child

Come play with me I whispered to my new found friend
Tell me what it's like to go outside
I've never been
Tell me what it's like to just go outside
I've never been
And I never will

Last night's post got me to reminiscing about REM and the hours of entertainment they have provided to me. Stipe's bizarre stream-of-consciousness lyrics make for great conversation starters, catchphrases and odd interpretations. I had some friends that used to have entire conversations in snippets of REM lyrics.

The Wrong Child is a great example. The song can be interpreted a dozen different ways and any one of them could be the right interpretation. Many years ago, a (different) friend of mine mentioned that he sang this song to his cat. The cat happened to be an indoor cat. The cat never knew what it was like to go outside. And he never would.

Everytime I hear this song I think about a cat sitting on a windowsill inside a house watching birds and children and life pass him by. Having two indoor cats of my own, I can say that they have both had this song sung to them. I'm sure they were not happy about it. No one likes to be made fun of.

I can also say that, when I greet a stranger, I look at his shoes. And I keep my money in my shoes (as in, I try to buy good shoes). I have made friends and dated men based purely on their shoes. Thanks to Stipe for that bit of advice. Converse hightops really tell you a lot about a person.

Tied to the 90's

I finally read Generation X a couple months back. I'm going through a period of complete confusion and lack of direction and I thought maybe it would provide some insight. It didn't.

See, I'm feeling incredibly disconnected and lost and I have no idea what to do about it. All of a sudden, nothing is comfortable. It's like Alice In Wonderland but without the drugs. I've been working hard to try and figure out what's going on, what I need, where I'm going but so far nothing has worked. At this point, I'm just walking around stunned by everything I see or do. One minute the room is getting smaller and the next I'm participating in bizarre tea parties.

I've had periods of transition before where all of a sudden everything is different: friends start changing, I start new hobbies, get a new job, even the air smells different. Eventually everything sorts itself out and life goes on in its new direction. What's different is that in these transition periods the changes always happened TO me. This time, I think the changes need to happen BY me but I'm just not sure what change I need to make in order to regain my balance.

I've thought about new hobbies - photography, Roller Derby, blogging. I've thought about leaving the country. I've thought about getting a new job. I've thought about getting an MBA. I just haven't been able to figure out what the fuck I'm supposed to do. I'm looking for divine guidance but Buddah and Jesus have not been real helpful.

Bottom line is something's going on that's not quite right. Great, now all I can think about is the REM song "Strange". Clearly I will not be solving my problems this evening.

Out of Mind, Out of Sight

I am realizing lately that for a good part of my life, I've felt invisible. I thought that starting a blog would be a way to say what I want to say and, given the size of the Internet, I could greatly increase my chances of someone actually listening to me.

The name of this blog was inspired by an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer that I found particularly entertaining. I identified with the villain just a little too much but didn't realize why when I first saw the episode many years ago.

Being older and wiser(?) now, I thought this would be a positive, proactive way to address my issues and talk about what is on my mind. I hope you find it interesting.

If you happen to know me and have found this blog by the clues I provided, thanks for noticing.