i was feeling very pithy, but it has all been erased
more on this subject later i've promised myself
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Monday, September 06, 2004
I totally just got fan mail! Wow!
I've gotten a few comments on my blog before- usually from friends of friends who found my blog as a link. There was even one girl who wrote me a few lines in an email to tell me that she had found my blog when looking up "rocks." Interesting . . . yes . . . but those were all over a year ago when I spent more time playing with my bloggie. I've been ignoring it for the most part for a while.
Ahh- so now I am encouraged to be a blogger again.
I don't know what I'll write about . . . that's besides the point. Do I ever really write about anything?
Anyway, I was excited, thought I'd tell the world.
Other news:
"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and their like, "It's better than yours." Damn right it's better than yours, I could teach you but I've have to charge."
It's a catchy little number-- I can never hear it again with out thinking "The Fatman made a Funny" Reference the movie "Dodge Ball, a True Underdog's story." If you haven't seen it, it's playing at the dollar theaters, stay until the very end of the credits. If you have seen it- well I suggest you get the DVD when it comes out and look for the Fatman making a funny. I'm more than a little disturbed. But when it came on I was mesmerized, and grossed out at the same time.
I am three inches from my leggwarmer goal . . . Oh yes, I will have sweaters on my legs! Ha!
I bought a Cedar Hills High school letter jacket-- Red and black, the same colors as my Jr High (Meadville Bulldogs) my High school (North Forth Myers High Red Knights) and my college (Dallas Christian College we-aren't- quite- sure-somewhere- between-red-and-maroon-Crusaders.) It's really a nice jacket, red wool, black leather sleeves-- I'll just take the CH letter off.
I got a letter in High school :0) Academic letter in (of all subjects-- this is quite amazing Algebra II) Maybe I should put my letter on it.
The best part is that I got it for $3.50. I'm sure somewhere along the lines someone paid upwards of $100 for that little jem. I do so love the thrift stores!
I've gotten a few comments on my blog before- usually from friends of friends who found my blog as a link. There was even one girl who wrote me a few lines in an email to tell me that she had found my blog when looking up "rocks." Interesting . . . yes . . . but those were all over a year ago when I spent more time playing with my bloggie. I've been ignoring it for the most part for a while.
Ahh- so now I am encouraged to be a blogger again.
I don't know what I'll write about . . . that's besides the point. Do I ever really write about anything?
Anyway, I was excited, thought I'd tell the world.
Other news:
"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and their like, "It's better than yours." Damn right it's better than yours, I could teach you but I've have to charge."
It's a catchy little number-- I can never hear it again with out thinking "The Fatman made a Funny" Reference the movie "Dodge Ball, a True Underdog's story." If you haven't seen it, it's playing at the dollar theaters, stay until the very end of the credits. If you have seen it- well I suggest you get the DVD when it comes out and look for the Fatman making a funny. I'm more than a little disturbed. But when it came on I was mesmerized, and grossed out at the same time.
I am three inches from my leggwarmer goal . . . Oh yes, I will have sweaters on my legs! Ha!
I bought a Cedar Hills High school letter jacket-- Red and black, the same colors as my Jr High (Meadville Bulldogs) my High school (North Forth Myers High Red Knights) and my college (Dallas Christian College we-aren't- quite- sure-somewhere- between-red-and-maroon-Crusaders.) It's really a nice jacket, red wool, black leather sleeves-- I'll just take the CH letter off.
I got a letter in High school :0) Academic letter in (of all subjects-- this is quite amazing Algebra II) Maybe I should put my letter on it.
The best part is that I got it for $3.50. I'm sure somewhere along the lines someone paid upwards of $100 for that little jem. I do so love the thrift stores!
Sunday, August 29, 2004
"The anchor holds, though the ship is battered. The anchor holds, though the sails are torn. The anchor holds inspite of the storm."
I was thinking things haven't changed in so long, that is has been a long calm. I wonder if it hasn't been storming so long I don't even take notice of the dangers anymore.
I was thinking things haven't changed in so long, that is has been a long calm. I wonder if it hasn't been storming so long I don't even take notice of the dangers anymore.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
The evil eye is the name for a sickness transmitted -- usually without intention -- by someone who is envious, jealous, or covetous. It is also called the invidious eye and the envious eye. In Hebrew it is ayin ha'ra (the evil eye), which in Yiddish is variously spelled ayin horoh, ayin hora, or ayen hara. In mainland Italian it is mal occhio (the bad eye) and in Spanish mal ojo or el ojo (the bad eye or just the eye). In Sicily it is jettatore (the projection [from the eye]) and in Farsi it is bla band (the eye of evil).
Dundes theorizes that the evil eye, which has a Middle-Eastern, Mediterranean, and Indo-European distribution pattern and was unknown in the Americas, Pacific Islands, Asia, Sub-Saharan Africa or Australia until the introduction of European culture, is based upon underlying beliefs about water equating to life and dryness equating to death. He posits that the true "evil" done by the evil eye is that it causes living beings to "dry up" -- notably babies, milking animals, young fruit trees, and nursing mothers. The harm caused by overlooking consists of sudden vomiting or diarrhoea in children, drying up of milk in nursing mothers or livestock, withering of fruit on orchard trees, and loss of potency in men. In short, the envious eye "dries up liquids," according to Professor Alan Dundes -- a fact that he contends demonstrates its Middle Eastern desert origins.
Only in Sicily and Southern Italy is it believed that some people can DELIBERATELY cast the evil eye on others. There the regionally idiosyncratic belief is that certain people (including at least one former Pope) are born with the evil eye and "project" it involuntarily. Such people are called jettatores ("projectors") and their specific form of evil eye is called jettatura ("projection") in contradistinction to the garden variety of envious or praising evil eye, which in Italian is called mal occhio ("bad eye"). Jettatores are not necessarily evil or envious people, according to this belief system, and they are often represented as being saddened and embarrassed by the harm they cause.
In the eastern Mediterranean and Aegean region, especially throughout Greece and up into Turkey, there is a strong tendency to view blue-eyed people as bearers of the evil eye -- probably because few locally-born people have blue eyes and those who do show up, such as tourists, are given to praising and cooing over babies, who are thought to be most at risk from the eye.
In Italy, the evil eye is said to affect men as well as children, nursing mothers, fruit trees, and dairy animals. It brings on impotence, through a drying up of the semen. Typical protective aversions of this problem include making the gestures called the mano fico ("fig hand") and the mano cornuto ("horned hand").
Mano fico is a hand gesture in which the thumb is inserted between the index and middle finger. It means literally means "fig hand" in Italian, but "fica" or fig is a common slang term for the female genitals, so the mano fico is a representation of the sex act (with the thumb as phallus).
All so very interesting. Watch out-- I'm dangerous one look and Bla-band! And I will not spit on you!
Dundes theorizes that the evil eye, which has a Middle-Eastern, Mediterranean, and Indo-European distribution pattern and was unknown in the Americas, Pacific Islands, Asia, Sub-Saharan Africa or Australia until the introduction of European culture, is based upon underlying beliefs about water equating to life and dryness equating to death. He posits that the true "evil" done by the evil eye is that it causes living beings to "dry up" -- notably babies, milking animals, young fruit trees, and nursing mothers. The harm caused by overlooking consists of sudden vomiting or diarrhoea in children, drying up of milk in nursing mothers or livestock, withering of fruit on orchard trees, and loss of potency in men. In short, the envious eye "dries up liquids," according to Professor Alan Dundes -- a fact that he contends demonstrates its Middle Eastern desert origins.
Only in Sicily and Southern Italy is it believed that some people can DELIBERATELY cast the evil eye on others. There the regionally idiosyncratic belief is that certain people (including at least one former Pope) are born with the evil eye and "project" it involuntarily. Such people are called jettatores ("projectors") and their specific form of evil eye is called jettatura ("projection") in contradistinction to the garden variety of envious or praising evil eye, which in Italian is called mal occhio ("bad eye"). Jettatores are not necessarily evil or envious people, according to this belief system, and they are often represented as being saddened and embarrassed by the harm they cause.
In the eastern Mediterranean and Aegean region, especially throughout Greece and up into Turkey, there is a strong tendency to view blue-eyed people as bearers of the evil eye -- probably because few locally-born people have blue eyes and those who do show up, such as tourists, are given to praising and cooing over babies, who are thought to be most at risk from the eye.
In Italy, the evil eye is said to affect men as well as children, nursing mothers, fruit trees, and dairy animals. It brings on impotence, through a drying up of the semen. Typical protective aversions of this problem include making the gestures called the mano fico ("fig hand") and the mano cornuto ("horned hand").
Mano fico is a hand gesture in which the thumb is inserted between the index and middle finger. It means literally means "fig hand" in Italian, but "fica" or fig is a common slang term for the female genitals, so the mano fico is a representation of the sex act (with the thumb as phallus).
All so very interesting. Watch out-- I'm dangerous one look and Bla-band! And I will not spit on you!
Monday, August 23, 2004
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Sunday, August 22, 2004
I should really be preparing to be very busy starting next week. I came across a complaint of someone lamenting the fact that he would have to take 17 hours in school and work 20 hours a week. I assure this youngling- it can be done.
Now I begin 40 hours of work and 9 hours of grad school. This, I am also sure can be done. It may exclude my novel reading and knitting for some time. I will survive.
I was happy to discover that if three of my classes transfer into this degree, I could be done in the Spring. I have no idea what I will do at that time, but I'm sure I will be able to think of something.
Now I begin 40 hours of work and 9 hours of grad school. This, I am also sure can be done. It may exclude my novel reading and knitting for some time. I will survive.
I was happy to discover that if three of my classes transfer into this degree, I could be done in the Spring. I have no idea what I will do at that time, but I'm sure I will be able to think of something.
I've been on a knitting frenzy the past few weeks. I think I finally discovered how easy it is. Of course I'm still working on beginner's projects, but at least now I can put it down and I'm not totally lost when I go to start again. It's beautiful. Now, I have to convince myself to stop buying yarn.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
I encountered two incredible news stories today. One was about a 1073 pound man who finally admitted that he needed professional help with his weight problem. One person who weighs over a ton, now that is amazing. I wondered how anyone (the one eating and/or the one buying and serving the food) could let it go that far.
The second story, however, shocked me even more. It was about a 38 year old 4'10" woman who weighed 480. That is a lot for such a petit height. (Well that's a lot for any height, but the point is this woman must have just been a ball of fat.) This woman had not left her house for 6 years. Her neighbors didn't even know a woman lived there. More astounding is that she never, (never-ever) left her couch for 1 year.
When the police went in to search the house (presumedly because of the stench) they found feces and rotten food everywhere. They found this woman, still alive, but fused to the couch. He skin had grown around the fibers. They took the woman, still on the couch, to the hospital on a flat bed trailer. The woman died of morbid obesity before they could surgically remove her from her furniture.
The man living with her may be charged with neglect. He said he tried to get her off the couch, but he could not.
So, with that in mind, I need to start a diet/exercise plan. For real this time.
That is after my donut frenzy I've arranged for tomorrow in celebration of Friday the 13th.
The second story, however, shocked me even more. It was about a 38 year old 4'10" woman who weighed 480. That is a lot for such a petit height. (Well that's a lot for any height, but the point is this woman must have just been a ball of fat.) This woman had not left her house for 6 years. Her neighbors didn't even know a woman lived there. More astounding is that she never, (never-ever) left her couch for 1 year.
When the police went in to search the house (presumedly because of the stench) they found feces and rotten food everywhere. They found this woman, still alive, but fused to the couch. He skin had grown around the fibers. They took the woman, still on the couch, to the hospital on a flat bed trailer. The woman died of morbid obesity before they could surgically remove her from her furniture.
The man living with her may be charged with neglect. He said he tried to get her off the couch, but he could not.
So, with that in mind, I need to start a diet/exercise plan. For real this time.
That is after my donut frenzy I've arranged for tomorrow in celebration of Friday the 13th.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
www.phobialist.com
pick your fear!
some of my favorites:
fear of bald people- peladophobia
fear of constipation- Coprastasophobia
fear of Englishness- Anglophobia
fear of Friday the 13th - Paraskavedekatriaphobia
fear of gravity- Barophobia
fear of kissing- philemaphobia
fear of meat- carnophobia
fear of otters- Lutraphobia
fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth- Arachibutyrophobia
fear of the Pope- Papaphobia
fear of yourself- Autophobia
fear of sermons- Homilophobia
fear of vegetables- Lachanophobia
fear of long words- Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia (what I didn't make it up)
And last, but certainly not least, for after reading the entire phobia list I have discovered this is my one true fear: alektorophobia- fear of chickens.
I'm not kidding either-all birds are scary but chickens are particularly vicious and wicked creatures.
pick your fear!
some of my favorites:
fear of bald people- peladophobia
fear of constipation- Coprastasophobia
fear of Englishness- Anglophobia
fear of Friday the 13th - Paraskavedekatriaphobia
fear of gravity- Barophobia
fear of kissing- philemaphobia
fear of meat- carnophobia
fear of otters- Lutraphobia
fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth- Arachibutyrophobia
fear of the Pope- Papaphobia
fear of yourself- Autophobia
fear of sermons- Homilophobia
fear of vegetables- Lachanophobia
fear of long words- Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia (what I didn't make it up)
And last, but certainly not least, for after reading the entire phobia list I have discovered this is my one true fear: alektorophobia- fear of chickens.
I'm not kidding either-all birds are scary but chickens are particularly vicious and wicked creatures.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
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Natasha, a 5-year-old black macaque walks at the Safari Park near Tel Aviv Tuesday July 20, 2004. The young monkey began recently walking exclusively on her hind legs after a stomach ailment nearly killed her, zookeepers said.(AP Photo/Eli Dasa)
So-- Darwin was right? We're all just monkeys with stomach aches?
Sunday, July 25, 2004
Speaking of being easily distracted . . . I almost rear ended someone on 360 the other day. I was driving along-- la-la-la-minding my own business when this Coors Light truck drove by.
I'm usually not distracted by beer trucks, but this one was craftily painted to attract attention from both sexes. First, it wasn't a delivery truck, it was a silver SUV. Second, it had scantily clad women in seductive positions painted all over the sides and back. Third, (and this is what attracted my attention) it was glitter painted. It was shiny silver with sparkly glitter paint mesmerizing me as it drove down the highway, making me wish my car was sparkly.
Everyone knows that men are distracted by pictures of women with breasts on the verge of popping out of their tops, and women are drawn to sparkly things! That was an ingenious beer truck!
I'm usually not distracted by beer trucks, but this one was craftily painted to attract attention from both sexes. First, it wasn't a delivery truck, it was a silver SUV. Second, it had scantily clad women in seductive positions painted all over the sides and back. Third, (and this is what attracted my attention) it was glitter painted. It was shiny silver with sparkly glitter paint mesmerizing me as it drove down the highway, making me wish my car was sparkly.
Everyone knows that men are distracted by pictures of women with breasts on the verge of popping out of their tops, and women are drawn to sparkly things! That was an ingenious beer truck!
I tried to take an ADD/ADHD test on line, but it took too long to load. I got tired of waiting.
Ironic.
Maybe that was the test. "How many times will one push the submit button, and for how long will one wait to take the test? If he pushes the button twelve times in a 30 second span and gives up after a minute and a half he has it."
If that were the case- I'd have it.
Ironic.
Maybe that was the test. "How many times will one push the submit button, and for how long will one wait to take the test? If he pushes the button twelve times in a 30 second span and gives up after a minute and a half he has it."
If that were the case- I'd have it.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
The first thing I heard when I walked into work this morning:
Two men conversing-
" . . . that really chaps my ass."
"I know."
"I went home last night and went straight to bed, because I knew that today we were going to be f- (glaces at me) screwed!"
"I know! Me too! I didn't even have any beers, I went straight to bed."
"Uh well, I had some beers, but I went straight to bed, but I couldn't sleep, because I didn't have any a/c!"
"Yeah, it's hot . . ."
I tell you what, these were not the kind of men I even wanted to consider with chapped asses, drinking beer in the heat. (Okay, so I don't want to consider anybody in that condition really, but as it turns out my imagination if formidable.)
Two men conversing-
" . . . that really chaps my ass."
"I know."
"I went home last night and went straight to bed, because I knew that today we were going to be f- (glaces at me) screwed!"
"I know! Me too! I didn't even have any beers, I went straight to bed."
"Uh well, I had some beers, but I went straight to bed, but I couldn't sleep, because I didn't have any a/c!"
"Yeah, it's hot . . ."
I tell you what, these were not the kind of men I even wanted to consider with chapped asses, drinking beer in the heat. (Okay, so I don't want to consider anybody in that condition really, but as it turns out my imagination if formidable.)
Monday, July 19, 2004
One of the last things I moved out of the old apartment was the couch.
Long ago and not so far away I thought I was losing my little bitty mind. I wrapped two presents for Christmas. I adorned them with mini Hershey bars. I went to work. When I came back from work, one present was gone, the other was missing a mini Hershey bar.
I considered the possibility that I was mistaken, that I had not indeed wrapped the second gift, and there had been no mini Hershey bars to speak of. Slowly, however, I realized that according to all the evidence (tape marks on the remaining present where a mini Hershey bar would have been, the inability to find the missing gift wrapped or unwrapped and the alleged sighting of a mouse of indeterminable size) that to be sure a rodent had absconded with my chocolate and my gift intended for my room mate.
I looked everywhere, I really did. I informed my room mate that there had in fact been a gift, but that a mouse had stolen it. I’m not absolutely sure she believed me . . . I mean what are the chances after all?
When the couch was moved I found 2 mini Hershey bar wrappers, 1 chewed through wrapper and 1 rhinestone belt (that was the gift.) Not only that, I found my lost-for-3- months-ring, 2 (unmatched) earrings, 1 shiny gold button and a whole bunch of mouse poop.
Mystery Solved!
Long ago and not so far away I thought I was losing my little bitty mind. I wrapped two presents for Christmas. I adorned them with mini Hershey bars. I went to work. When I came back from work, one present was gone, the other was missing a mini Hershey bar.
I considered the possibility that I was mistaken, that I had not indeed wrapped the second gift, and there had been no mini Hershey bars to speak of. Slowly, however, I realized that according to all the evidence (tape marks on the remaining present where a mini Hershey bar would have been, the inability to find the missing gift wrapped or unwrapped and the alleged sighting of a mouse of indeterminable size) that to be sure a rodent had absconded with my chocolate and my gift intended for my room mate.
I looked everywhere, I really did. I informed my room mate that there had in fact been a gift, but that a mouse had stolen it. I’m not absolutely sure she believed me . . . I mean what are the chances after all?
When the couch was moved I found 2 mini Hershey bar wrappers, 1 chewed through wrapper and 1 rhinestone belt (that was the gift.) Not only that, I found my lost-for-3- months-ring, 2 (unmatched) earrings, 1 shiny gold button and a whole bunch of mouse poop.
Mystery Solved!
A lesson to everyone (especially males, somehow most females seem to know this innately.)
Hypothetical situation: You and your friend are talking, joking, having a good ole time when suddenly your friend says, "Hey! Now I'm mad at you!" You are baffled. What have you done wrong? You ask, "Why, what happened? Why are you mad?" Your friend explains to you how you have offended him/but-usually-her. This explanation makes no sense at all to you. What do you do?
A. Say, "Are you crazy? I don't know what you're talking about! Get over it!"
B. Squint your eyes, focus on her and secretly hope that your much longed for laser eyes will suddenly kick in and crisp her.
C. Say, "I'm sorry I offended you, I didn't know what I did/said would upset you, I'll try not to do it again."
D. Leave, hoping that when you've come back the alternate personality living in your friend's head will have gone by the time you come back.
The answer is C always C!! So what if you don't understand exactly what you did wrong?! You are apologizing for the perceived wrong! Most likely you will not be able to convince your friend that you honestly don't understand how what you've done is offensive. Apologize for (even unknowingly) causing the offended feeling. That way she won't be even more upset with you for being so rude as to not care weather or not she's upset.
Hypothetical situation: You and your friend are talking, joking, having a good ole time when suddenly your friend says, "Hey! Now I'm mad at you!" You are baffled. What have you done wrong? You ask, "Why, what happened? Why are you mad?" Your friend explains to you how you have offended him/but-usually-her. This explanation makes no sense at all to you. What do you do?
A. Say, "Are you crazy? I don't know what you're talking about! Get over it!"
B. Squint your eyes, focus on her and secretly hope that your much longed for laser eyes will suddenly kick in and crisp her.
C. Say, "I'm sorry I offended you, I didn't know what I did/said would upset you, I'll try not to do it again."
D. Leave, hoping that when you've come back the alternate personality living in your friend's head will have gone by the time you come back.
The answer is C always C!! So what if you don't understand exactly what you did wrong?! You are apologizing for the perceived wrong! Most likely you will not be able to convince your friend that you honestly don't understand how what you've done is offensive. Apologize for (even unknowingly) causing the offended feeling. That way she won't be even more upset with you for being so rude as to not care weather or not she's upset.
I was feeling the domestic demi-goddess this weekend. I was sewing, I was knitting, I was cooking, I was thinking about cleaning. Actually I did my dishes as soon as I finished eating, which is mostly because I'm scared of the critters who might also like my cooking. But that's cleaning too right? I also swept the kitchen, but that too I must do everyday as a result of all the ex-critters who wandered into the boric acid whilst I was away.
I made these groovalicious wrap around pants. (Yes, PK, just like the shorts from the Philippines.) I was so proud of myself that I went out and bought a shirt just so I could wear them today. I started knitting a scarf as a gift-I'm using "eyelash" yarn, it looks like I'm knitting a something that is destined to become Elmo's new best friend on Sesame street.
I made these groovalicious wrap around pants. (Yes, PK, just like the shorts from the Philippines.) I was so proud of myself that I went out and bought a shirt just so I could wear them today. I started knitting a scarf as a gift-I'm using "eyelash" yarn, it looks like I'm knitting a something that is destined to become Elmo's new best friend on Sesame street.
Sunday, July 18, 2004
I have been working a Mohawk labs for one year. I get my one year pay raise next week. No one has bothered to tell me how much or more likely how little that may be. I have my one year review next week. My boss is afraid that she will make my cry during the review. While I am a sensitive and emotional creature, I find that scenario highly unlikely. But why let her know that?
I have moved. I again am living alone (me and the left over roaches.) My apartment is most likely slightly toxic at the point. I have boric acid along all the walls, I have cans of Raid in the kitchen and the bathroom. I have bug bombs, roach bate and of course the ever present "squishing shoe." I have noticed a significant decrease in la cockaracha activities.
The previous renter was a smoker. I know this not only from the strong smoke odor emanating from the very walls but from the tar deposits I've scraped off the windows. I decided the best thing for me to do to mask this ever present odoriferous experience one senses upon entering my domicile was to plug in a scented oil warmer conveniently equipped with a tiny "super quiet" fan. It emits the scent of a "Tropical Breeze."
Now when one enters my apartment he has the sensation of a heavy smoker with a can of Raid and a death wish to any bug that crosses her path standing just up wind of a refreshing tropical breeze. Pleasant, Yes?
The previous renter was a smoker. I know this not only from the strong smoke odor emanating from the very walls but from the tar deposits I've scraped off the windows. I decided the best thing for me to do to mask this ever present odoriferous experience one senses upon entering my domicile was to plug in a scented oil warmer conveniently equipped with a tiny "super quiet" fan. It emits the scent of a "Tropical Breeze."
Now when one enters my apartment he has the sensation of a heavy smoker with a can of Raid and a death wish to any bug that crosses her path standing just up wind of a refreshing tropical breeze. Pleasant, Yes?
I've been meaning to do this for a while.
I suppose deep down I was thinking that when one stays quiet long enough, people forget to check to see what's going on. It's a slow, quiet fading process.
I've thought about writing quite a few things-things that go better unread by anyone who knows me, or knows that I'm talking about them when I start recounting the absurdity of my experiences, or more accurately the absurdity of my perspective on those experiences. The actual experiences, I maintain, cannot possibly be any more absurd than the next person's experience.
I could change names but they would still know.
You know who you are . If there is anyone reading this, if you know me, you know I have a story about you, and I have some opinions of you good and bad. Most likely I have not fully shared those opinions of you with you although you probably have a pretty good idea of what they are. I'm not trying to hide those opinions, it's just that I've been told I at times come across as somewhat harsh-and I'm rarely overly mushy-so get off my back!
I suppose deep down I was thinking that when one stays quiet long enough, people forget to check to see what's going on. It's a slow, quiet fading process.
I've thought about writing quite a few things-things that go better unread by anyone who knows me, or knows that I'm talking about them when I start recounting the absurdity of my experiences, or more accurately the absurdity of my perspective on those experiences. The actual experiences, I maintain, cannot possibly be any more absurd than the next person's experience.
I could change names but they would still know.
You know who you are . If there is anyone reading this, if you know me, you know I have a story about you, and I have some opinions of you good and bad. Most likely I have not fully shared those opinions of you with you although you probably have a pretty good idea of what they are. I'm not trying to hide those opinions, it's just that I've been told I at times come across as somewhat harsh-and I'm rarely overly mushy-so get off my back!
Friday, June 11, 2004
The Darkness
Your personality type is occluded. You may even be
a genuine goth. Aloof, mysterious, introverted.
You absorb light and energy into yourself and
seldom release it...perhaps because you've been
hurt so badly in the past.
What's Your Celestial Personality Type?
brought to you by Quizilla
huh, well what do you know?
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
I saw a sign that said "IT IS un AWFUL TO LITTER." Then I saw one that said "IT IS unlAWFUL TO LITTER."
I see . . . un lawful, un awful . . . so close.
I need to take a picture of the one on 20 that says "AWFFLE HO SE"
aka "WAFFLE HOUSE"
I was surprised to find no Eiffle Tower in Paris, TX. Why wouldn't a little town like that play it up? I mean, the largest Superman statue in the world is (where else) Metropolis, IL. Well, now I know.
The cicadas are out in Indiana. Curious creatures. The story is that the come out once ever 17 years. They stay mostly in the trees for about 3 weeks (making one of the most unnerving sounds I've ever heard, like thousands of tiny UFOs about to land on your head) then they die, not coming back for 17 years.
They have creepy little red eyes . . . I didnt hear them this morning. I suppose their time is up until a new generation comes along.
I see . . . un lawful, un awful . . . so close.
I need to take a picture of the one on 20 that says "AWFFLE HO SE"
aka "WAFFLE HOUSE"
I was surprised to find no Eiffle Tower in Paris, TX. Why wouldn't a little town like that play it up? I mean, the largest Superman statue in the world is (where else) Metropolis, IL. Well, now I know.
The cicadas are out in Indiana. Curious creatures. The story is that the come out once ever 17 years. They stay mostly in the trees for about 3 weeks (making one of the most unnerving sounds I've ever heard, like thousands of tiny UFOs about to land on your head) then they die, not coming back for 17 years.
They have creepy little red eyes . . . I didnt hear them this morning. I suppose their time is up until a new generation comes along.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
“I think of people who are innocent and a bit naive and it makes me want to protect them from life, like I think they have a chance since they have not been corrupted by violence and the reality that the world is a scary fucking place.”// posted by Travis
I’d like to think of myself as an innocent. I didn’t see the beheading clip. I didn’t want to. I don’t know if acynic can be an innocent too. I’ve heard very few statistics concerning the war(s) in Afghanistan and Iraq. I know about 200 American soldiers have died. And the public has clamored against the state to “pull our boys out!” Pull them out? What were we doing there again? Are we done already? I heard that one Dutch soldier died and the Netherlands thought it might be time to withdraw.
Can I still be an innocent if I think 201 men isn’t that many? 201 is tragic. 2 is tragic. The real tragedy is that the majority of Americans, I suspect the majority of soldiers sweating in the desert don’t understand. We will never win this fight. We can’t win because we don’t have the perseverance. It seems the American idea of “winning” a war is beating the loser into submission. Holding him down until he says “mercy” then we graciously let him up, and bandage his wounds, and teach him to “good way.” And because he understands our ways are better, he agrees to not pick on his neighbor because there’s always going to be a bully across the ocean. Big brother is watching.
But our opponents will never give up this time. They are wily and their words don’t match our meanings. They will never agree that “our way” or any compromise made is right for them—because it won’t be.
We lost Vietnam. We lost a lot, more money and men then people care to remember. We may have lost some power and influence—but what we lost in the jungle—I feel will not compare to what we will lose in the desert. I fear for my times.
I’d like to think of myself as an innocent. I didn’t see the beheading clip. I didn’t want to. I don’t know if acynic can be an innocent too. I’ve heard very few statistics concerning the war(s) in Afghanistan and Iraq. I know about 200 American soldiers have died. And the public has clamored against the state to “pull our boys out!” Pull them out? What were we doing there again? Are we done already? I heard that one Dutch soldier died and the Netherlands thought it might be time to withdraw.
Can I still be an innocent if I think 201 men isn’t that many? 201 is tragic. 2 is tragic. The real tragedy is that the majority of Americans, I suspect the majority of soldiers sweating in the desert don’t understand. We will never win this fight. We can’t win because we don’t have the perseverance. It seems the American idea of “winning” a war is beating the loser into submission. Holding him down until he says “mercy” then we graciously let him up, and bandage his wounds, and teach him to “good way.” And because he understands our ways are better, he agrees to not pick on his neighbor because there’s always going to be a bully across the ocean. Big brother is watching.
But our opponents will never give up this time. They are wily and their words don’t match our meanings. They will never agree that “our way” or any compromise made is right for them—because it won’t be.
We lost Vietnam. We lost a lot, more money and men then people care to remember. We may have lost some power and influence—but what we lost in the jungle—I feel will not compare to what we will lose in the desert. I fear for my times.
Monday, May 17, 2004
Take the quiz: "which phsycadellic penguin are you?"
the jesus lover penguin
you are too obsessed with jesus... you need to learn how to be a bit more... less religious
the jesus lover penguin
you are too obsessed with jesus... you need to learn how to be a bit more... less religious
Take the quiz: "Which Playing Card Are You?"
The Queen of Hearts
Loving, caring, but sometimes Vain, You are the Queen of Hearts.
The Queen of Hearts
Loving, caring, but sometimes Vain, You are the Queen of Hearts.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
I bought a book at goodwill for $1.00. It is called "The Indiana Mothers' Baby Book." I bought it because it looked pretty old, and I wondered what has changed in baby care since it was written. There wasn't a publication date, but these were free informative books given to new mothers in Indiana starting in 1913. The mother who recieved this book registered her child, Jerome Grenda, born August 27, 1917.
This book has much truth to despense, such as: "Those possessing inherited, and hense transmissible physical and mental defects should never become parents, unless it is thought desirable to multiply the physically and mentally defective."
"A mean, drunken, cruel or brutal husband, or one who does not do his utmost to give good and tender care to his pregnant wife, is a low specimen, his devoid of manhood and trhe law should
deal severely with him."
"Cessation of the "monthlies" is usually regared as the first symptom of pregnancy."
"It is a very great wrong to herself and her child for a mother to feed her baby artificially if she is able to produce healthful mother's milk. Such a mother is a deserter from duty."
Crying babies:
"Babies cry only when there is a cause. Find the cause and remove it.
Perhaps he has had too much food
Perhaps he is dressed too warmly
Perhaps he needs a clean diaper
(and my personal favorite)
Perhaps and enemy has given him a pickle."
I was telling my friend (who is expecting) about this book. She noted that alot of people are asking if she will be breast feeding. She said she feels people are getting kind of bold asking after her breasts like that, and sometimes she is temped to tell them that she has decided not to, but she has contracted a wet nurse for the detail.
This book has much truth to despense, such as: "Those possessing inherited, and hense transmissible physical and mental defects should never become parents, unless it is thought desirable to multiply the physically and mentally defective."
"A mean, drunken, cruel or brutal husband, or one who does not do his utmost to give good and tender care to his pregnant wife, is a low specimen, his devoid of manhood and trhe law should
deal severely with him."
"Cessation of the "monthlies" is usually regared as the first symptom of pregnancy."
"It is a very great wrong to herself and her child for a mother to feed her baby artificially if she is able to produce healthful mother's milk. Such a mother is a deserter from duty."
Crying babies:
"Babies cry only when there is a cause. Find the cause and remove it.
Perhaps he has had too much food
Perhaps he is dressed too warmly
Perhaps he needs a clean diaper
(and my personal favorite)
Perhaps and enemy has given him a pickle."
I was telling my friend (who is expecting) about this book. She noted that alot of people are asking if she will be breast feeding. She said she feels people are getting kind of bold asking after her breasts like that, and sometimes she is temped to tell them that she has decided not to, but she has contracted a wet nurse for the detail.
Saturday, May 01, 2004
I went to a lip synch contest at church this weekend-- Grandmas singing "We are Family" -- grooving like the Pointer Sisters we the best act for me, but the winner was a group of 30 something women dressed as old women singing "Lady Marmalade" Which was cute, but somewhat disturbing too, aside from the fact that they looked like old women dancing with canes, I found it odd that it was perfectly acceptable for them to sing "Will you go to bed with me tonight?" at a church function. I guess it's okay to be a prostitute as long as you make your propositions in French.
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?
Thursday, April 29, 2004
"Orange suggests that an expected change in your situation will be delayed"
I had a dream full of orange, and old friends.
"Orange: Spleen Chakra: The emotions-- This is the center of your body governing your emotions, relationships and creativity. Whe you are drawn to this color there is usually a power struggle occuring in your life having to do with money and/or sex. Use this color energy to help manage desier and express your creativity and life force."
"Tibetan Buddhist monks have long worn orange as a sign of wisdom, spontaneity, intuition and living in the present moment."
"Orange dreams
The best dreams are orange. I usually dream in black and white but now and then there is an orange dream. A most beautiful incredible floating experience. It encompasses all senses, in incredible, unexpected ways. It never lasts long enough and the memories remain strong. I love the orange dreams."
I had a dream full of orange, and old friends.
"Orange: Spleen Chakra: The emotions-- This is the center of your body governing your emotions, relationships and creativity. Whe you are drawn to this color there is usually a power struggle occuring in your life having to do with money and/or sex. Use this color energy to help manage desier and express your creativity and life force."
"Tibetan Buddhist monks have long worn orange as a sign of wisdom, spontaneity, intuition and living in the present moment."
"Orange dreams
The best dreams are orange. I usually dream in black and white but now and then there is an orange dream. A most beautiful incredible floating experience. It encompasses all senses, in incredible, unexpected ways. It never lasts long enough and the memories remain strong. I love the orange dreams."
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
I've decided to do everything earlier-- at least that is the goal for May. I had a momentary lapse trying to remember why I was wanting to do everything earlier . . . go to bed earlier to get up earlier to get to work, to leave work to do what ever it is I do in the evening . . . why did I want to push this up an hour?
Oh yeah . . . work. You would think everyone at my work was very motivated. We get to work pretty early most of the time. We work quickly while in the lab, and we goof off at our desks as much as possible. (Which is considerably easier for everyone else than it is for the lion and I, being that our cubicals are open to the world, and the rest are hidden away in corners. As a matter of fact we were busted by a group of Chinese business men or scientiests, who knows, they were touring the labs. They walked by and looked at us with questions in their slanty little eyes as we sat in our shared cubical munching animal crackers dipped in peanut butter talking about my disease ridden cat.)
All this because of our boss, BS. She is nice, pretty easy going- no micro managing . . .but she talks. She talks loud so we can all hear her over the machines. She talks about nothing and everything. She says the same thing 4 times in a row, or until someone responds. She talks about her car, her ex husband, her boyfriends, her daugher, her diet, her classes, her family . . . oh how she talks! Sometimes I want to stab myself in my ear with a pipetter! But I don't.
And our coworker, E, likes to defy BS. Everyday E wears sandles in the lab. Everyday BS says to E, "Your toes are showing!" (with an air of mock scandalization and the slightest of lisps) Everyday E responds (and with finess) "I know." As if to say, "The showing of this one extrodinarily long second toe hanging off the front of my sandle is the crowning joy of my day." And everyday E walks away with the proud gait of a woman who has raged against the 'the man' and has lived another day to wear sandles in the lab.
Speaking of wearing sandles in the lab, it is against safety policy, as is wearing saris in the lab and "putting out fires which require breathing air." Heck, I am required to breath air all the time! NO fires are going out on my watch. NO! I'm going to be off breathing air somewhere out of the way!
So-- the lion and I stand in the back of the lab and bark at each other, then we say "En Francais!" and we shout, "Le bark! Le bark!" And we laugh because we find this highly amusing, and because we just want to do something to drown out the talking.
Oh yeah . . . work. You would think everyone at my work was very motivated. We get to work pretty early most of the time. We work quickly while in the lab, and we goof off at our desks as much as possible. (Which is considerably easier for everyone else than it is for the lion and I, being that our cubicals are open to the world, and the rest are hidden away in corners. As a matter of fact we were busted by a group of Chinese business men or scientiests, who knows, they were touring the labs. They walked by and looked at us with questions in their slanty little eyes as we sat in our shared cubical munching animal crackers dipped in peanut butter talking about my disease ridden cat.)
All this because of our boss, BS. She is nice, pretty easy going- no micro managing . . .but she talks. She talks loud so we can all hear her over the machines. She talks about nothing and everything. She says the same thing 4 times in a row, or until someone responds. She talks about her car, her ex husband, her boyfriends, her daugher, her diet, her classes, her family . . . oh how she talks! Sometimes I want to stab myself in my ear with a pipetter! But I don't.
And our coworker, E, likes to defy BS. Everyday E wears sandles in the lab. Everyday BS says to E, "Your toes are showing!" (with an air of mock scandalization and the slightest of lisps) Everyday E responds (and with finess) "I know." As if to say, "The showing of this one extrodinarily long second toe hanging off the front of my sandle is the crowning joy of my day." And everyday E walks away with the proud gait of a woman who has raged against the 'the man' and has lived another day to wear sandles in the lab.
Speaking of wearing sandles in the lab, it is against safety policy, as is wearing saris in the lab and "putting out fires which require breathing air." Heck, I am required to breath air all the time! NO fires are going out on my watch. NO! I'm going to be off breathing air somewhere out of the way!
So-- the lion and I stand in the back of the lab and bark at each other, then we say "En Francais!" and we shout, "Le bark! Le bark!" And we laugh because we find this highly amusing, and because we just want to do something to drown out the talking.
Friday, April 23, 2004
"Nevertheless, he was not content, however great his urgency, to settle for less and live the rest of his days with a wife who had large feet and a strong charcter."
Daughter of Fortune Isabel Allende
Which, of course, led to an internet search on the Chinese practice of foot binding. Which I maintained from the beginning must have been a man's idea. So the website tells, a Chinese prince over 1,000 years ago admired the small "golden lilly" feet of one of his concubines and thus the tradition of bending over the toes of a small female child, breading her foot at the arch and twisting the broken feet up on themselves. The feet were then bound with tight winding cloths and eventually the feet would shrink so that an adult woman's feet could fit into tiny slippers only three to four inches long. Of course she had to keep the slippers on all the time because not only where the "golden lillies" ugly as all get out-- the deformed and mutilated bones would begin to seep a "foul smelling substance."
The women could not walk more than a few (very small, shuffling) steps before she was beset with terrible pain. She was only an ornament.
The practice of foot binding continued until 1911 when it was banned by the new government.
fyi be very careful looking up "foot binding" on the internet . . . much like granny squares, things can easily go awry!
Daughter of Fortune Isabel Allende
Which, of course, led to an internet search on the Chinese practice of foot binding. Which I maintained from the beginning must have been a man's idea. So the website tells, a Chinese prince over 1,000 years ago admired the small "golden lilly" feet of one of his concubines and thus the tradition of bending over the toes of a small female child, breading her foot at the arch and twisting the broken feet up on themselves. The feet were then bound with tight winding cloths and eventually the feet would shrink so that an adult woman's feet could fit into tiny slippers only three to four inches long. Of course she had to keep the slippers on all the time because not only where the "golden lillies" ugly as all get out-- the deformed and mutilated bones would begin to seep a "foul smelling substance."
The women could not walk more than a few (very small, shuffling) steps before she was beset with terrible pain. She was only an ornament.
The practice of foot binding continued until 1911 when it was banned by the new government.
fyi be very careful looking up "foot binding" on the internet . . . much like granny squares, things can easily go awry!
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Yesterday I opened my door to go to work and there were little pink tickets all over my walkway. I picked them up and they each said, "You are insuperable."
Huh.
I didn't know what "insuperable" meant, but I put them in my purse and headed off to work.
INSUPERABLE: incapable of being surmounted, overcome, passed over, or solved.
Insuperable is a state of mind. Today I am insuperable, well, actually yesterday I was. I'm not feeling up to it today.
Huh.
I didn't know what "insuperable" meant, but I put them in my purse and headed off to work.
INSUPERABLE: incapable of being surmounted, overcome, passed over, or solved.
Insuperable is a state of mind. Today I am insuperable, well, actually yesterday I was. I'm not feeling up to it today.
The other day a little girl knocked on my door to ask if my cat could come out to play. I told her my cat was already out playing, and if she could catch the cat, she could play with her. Sounded fair to me.
Last night I dreamed that my cat jumped off a bridge, never to be seen again. The again, I dreamed my pet panda fell off the same bridge on the same day and he too was never seen again. I really miss that panda.
Last night I dreamed that my cat jumped off a bridge, never to be seen again. The again, I dreamed my pet panda fell off the same bridge on the same day and he too was never seen again. I really miss that panda.
Age eight: I've seen the world-
a child molester rolling by slowly in a beat up Caddy-
In motion
the 'fuck rock' just behind the fence in the woods-
In action
a used condom on the playground-
In full view
the ambulence came-- fat Pam O.D.ed . . .again
she can't do it right
Brenda had my brother's abortion . . .
sophmore year
patty-cake?
You know this one?
"Peanut butter mother fucker, two time bitch
mess around with me you get your ass kicked
'cause I'm a TT tucker and a bad mother fucker."
Mother goose has flown
Mouse was arrested-
all his kids got lice-
his house aint nothin' but roaches nohow
If you touch me there again, I'm telling my mom,
and she'll kill you-- you know she's crazy.
For real.
What'chu laughin' at fool? You on welfare too!
Age eight. I've seen the world.
motion
action
full view
dying
killing
rhyming
incarcerated
crazy
living
life of mine
age eight
a child molester rolling by slowly in a beat up Caddy-
In motion
the 'fuck rock' just behind the fence in the woods-
In action
a used condom on the playground-
In full view
the ambulence came-- fat Pam O.D.ed . . .again
she can't do it right
Brenda had my brother's abortion . . .
sophmore year
patty-cake?
You know this one?
"Peanut butter mother fucker, two time bitch
mess around with me you get your ass kicked
'cause I'm a TT tucker and a bad mother fucker."
Mother goose has flown
Mouse was arrested-
all his kids got lice-
his house aint nothin' but roaches nohow
If you touch me there again, I'm telling my mom,
and she'll kill you-- you know she's crazy.
For real.
What'chu laughin' at fool? You on welfare too!
Age eight. I've seen the world.
motion
action
full view
dying
killing
rhyming
incarcerated
crazy
living
life of mine
age eight
Saturday, April 10, 2004
Happy Easter to all you peeps.
Although Just Born acquired Rodda for its jelly-bean-making capabilities, the Born family was fascinated with the three-dimensional marshmallow Easter chicks, called Peeps, that Rodda was also making at the time. Lauren Easterly, the Peeps brand manager at Just Born, said that a group of women at Rodda made Peeps by hand in the back of the factory. In 1953, it took Rodda 27 hours to make one Peep. Just Born mechanized Peep production and was able to bring the confection to consumers on a mass scale by 1954.
Monday, April 05, 2004
Friday, April 02, 2004
Sunday, March 28, 2004
I went to go see a life size replica of the Tabernacle yesterday. It was a very odd and particular kind of thing . . . it didn’t really have the same look that had I imagined, although they had gone from the biblical descriptions. Of course, since the presentation was Christian, it was “How to find Jesus in the Tabernacle.” (I’m pretty sure at this point that going to see a Jewish reproduction of the Tabernacle would have been far more interesting.) I mean, I got the idea that if Jesus was lurking in the Tabernacle and I was looking for him, he could have just popped out of the Ark and said, “Ha! You would have never found me in there!” (You know that, “ye who look upon it shall die” thing would have deterred the search.)
Our oft tongue tied guide would point out a feature of the Tabernacle and ask this question, “What does that represent?” If you said, “Jesus” you were right nine out of ten times. If, however, you hit that rare occasion when the answer was other than “Jesus,” he would answer your mistake with a resolute and triumphant “NO!” (As in “HA-Ha! You fools! You know nothing- Nothing about this tabernacle or Jesus! I will now enlighten you!”)
First he told us where all the materials made to build the Tabernacle came from. “The linen came from Egypt; the ram skins came from New Zealand, the cloud came from Canada”. Let me repeat that. The Cloud, the “Glory of the LORD” came from . . . Canada. Fine.
Then he told us about the gate. “Does anyone know why the colors red, purple, white and blue were used?” “Jesus was a king (purple) who came from heaven (blue,) lived a perfect life (white) and shed his blood (red) for us.” (Or those are the most expensive/royal colors in the ancient world.)
“Does anyone know why the gate is thirty feet wide?” (He got me there, because I’m pretty sure the ancient Hebrews weren’t using the English\US measurement system.) The answer of course is that “Jesus’ earthly ministry began when he was 30 years old. OR maybe it was to be big enough that everyone could come to him through the door which is Him.” (So, even those double wide fat asses can come?)
“Please save your questions until after the tour. Thank you.”
The brazen alter had four horns. Why? “because Jesus had four horns?” No. The horns symbolize strength. “because the priests had to be really strong to get all those bulls up on top of that thing?” No, because when Abraham was going to sacrifice his son, there was a ram caught in a thicket by his horns. “But what does that have to do with . . .”
“Please hold your questions.”
The Table of Shewbread held twelve loaves of flat bread. “These loaves were pierced for quick baking. Just like Jesus was pierced.” (For quick baking?)
In conclusion, from this tour I learned that God is from Canada, Jesus’ favorite colors are red, blue, purple and white. Jesus thinks fat people are a-okay, but he did not have horns. He was a fan of the quick bake method.
Our oft tongue tied guide would point out a feature of the Tabernacle and ask this question, “What does that represent?” If you said, “Jesus” you were right nine out of ten times. If, however, you hit that rare occasion when the answer was other than “Jesus,” he would answer your mistake with a resolute and triumphant “NO!” (As in “HA-Ha! You fools! You know nothing- Nothing about this tabernacle or Jesus! I will now enlighten you!”)
First he told us where all the materials made to build the Tabernacle came from. “The linen came from Egypt; the ram skins came from New Zealand, the cloud came from Canada”. Let me repeat that. The Cloud, the “Glory of the LORD” came from . . . Canada. Fine.
Then he told us about the gate. “Does anyone know why the colors red, purple, white and blue were used?” “Jesus was a king (purple) who came from heaven (blue,) lived a perfect life (white) and shed his blood (red) for us.” (Or those are the most expensive/royal colors in the ancient world.)
“Does anyone know why the gate is thirty feet wide?” (He got me there, because I’m pretty sure the ancient Hebrews weren’t using the English\US measurement system.) The answer of course is that “Jesus’ earthly ministry began when he was 30 years old. OR maybe it was to be big enough that everyone could come to him through the door which is Him.” (So, even those double wide fat asses can come?)
“Please save your questions until after the tour. Thank you.”
The brazen alter had four horns. Why? “because Jesus had four horns?” No. The horns symbolize strength. “because the priests had to be really strong to get all those bulls up on top of that thing?” No, because when Abraham was going to sacrifice his son, there was a ram caught in a thicket by his horns. “But what does that have to do with . . .”
“Please hold your questions.”
The Table of Shewbread held twelve loaves of flat bread. “These loaves were pierced for quick baking. Just like Jesus was pierced.” (For quick baking?)
In conclusion, from this tour I learned that God is from Canada, Jesus’ favorite colors are red, blue, purple and white. Jesus thinks fat people are a-okay, but he did not have horns. He was a fan of the quick bake method.
I woke up the other morning with my finger pressing my nose. Now, there is no way to know for sure at this point, but I’m pretty sure that I was desperately pressing my nose in a vain attempt to turn my alarm off. (Some how confusing my nose with the snooze button) Yes, well --- these things happen.
Thursday, March 18, 2004
I think I had a karmic moment tonight. I was sitting at a traffic light, in the lane next to the biggest ambulance I'd ever seen. For some reason I had the urge to lean forward and crane my neck up to look into the driver's seat of the ambulance. At that exact same moment that ambulance driver was craning his neck to look down and back into my car. I know it doesn't sound too unusual, but it seem so at the time.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
I’ve taken to carrying a second purse. It started out as a lunch bag. It has now evolved into a bag I may or may not need at any given time. In my second purse I carry; snacks, water, a barrette, a bandana, the book I’m reading, extra batteries, lip gloss and a flyer from a fabric store. It has room for all the things I think I might want or need, but I don’t really want to be committed to carrying around all the time, so I can switch things out. Like “Mmm, this might take a while, I better take my book and my water, but I don’t think I’ll need my check book.” Switch out- leave one purse in the car.
So I’m taking step aerobics class. I admit it freely—I am a white girl with no rhythm. The leader is also a dance instructor. She’s a middle aged woman who steps and jumps and stretches and in general moves so gracefully. I’ve been there four times. I still flounder around like a dying fish. I watch the leader intently—she steps with her left leg—I see it, I comprehend it I know I should be doing the same thing—instead my right leg tries to imitate the movement (and does so quite poorly .)
I stop, I start again, “on the beat, one-two-three-dang off again!” Half a step off and doing everything backwards, I feel I must be the bane of this poor woman’s step aerobic career.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to fall off the step pretty soon.
The workout mat they handed me this week had the work “HELP” scratched onto the surface.
I feel the pain man. I feel the pain.
I stop, I start again, “on the beat, one-two-three-dang off again!” Half a step off and doing everything backwards, I feel I must be the bane of this poor woman’s step aerobic career.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to fall off the step pretty soon.
The workout mat they handed me this week had the work “HELP” scratched onto the surface.
I feel the pain man. I feel the pain.
(outside a gymnasium) She came puffing through the door, and complaining bitterly with a adolescent daughter in tow . . . “This is ridiculous! It’s so Stupid!” She wears an exercise outfit. “I (huff-puff-waddle-waddle) can’t believe how STUPID it is!” She’s a larger woman.
The daughter: “Mo-o-om!” That sing-song three syllable “I can’t believe you are saying this out loud, there are people here!” chastisement a child gives to a parent.
The source of the complaint: She couldn’t find the elevator to get to the gym . . . which is on the second floor.
God forbid that a fat woman has to walk up twenty steps to get to a gym to do . . . whatever she was going to be doing there . . . obviously not the stair climbing machine.
The daughter: “Mo-o-om!” That sing-song three syllable “I can’t believe you are saying this out loud, there are people here!” chastisement a child gives to a parent.
The source of the complaint: She couldn’t find the elevator to get to the gym . . . which is on the second floor.
God forbid that a fat woman has to walk up twenty steps to get to a gym to do . . . whatever she was going to be doing there . . . obviously not the stair climbing machine.
Saturday, March 13, 2004
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
How one thing leads to another . . . I forgot to feed my cat the other day, the result was that I peed on her toy. Funny how things work out. I got up and went into the bathroom to discover pads and tampons all over the floor with a light sprinkling of Q-tips. The cat must have been anxious. I peed as usual, but when I went to flush—I saw a blue thing, I looked closer, it was one of the cat’s toys, in the toilet. Already peed on. I knew I had to pull it out, else it would clog up the toilet. Ick.
In the living room, papers everywhere, in the kitchen—she had made tiny little puncture marks in the plastic cat food container . . .the one I bought because she kept eating holes in the paper cat food bags.
Mental note: don’t forget to feed the cat.
In the living room, papers everywhere, in the kitchen—she had made tiny little puncture marks in the plastic cat food container . . .the one I bought because she kept eating holes in the paper cat food bags.
Mental note: don’t forget to feed the cat.
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
I just wanted to know how to crochet a granny square! I put in "granny square instructions" in google and the first hit said, "Granny square instructions" and I made the mistake of clicking on it . . . to find, much to my horor an pornography site . . . with pictures of old women doing . . . things . . .
Saturday, February 28, 2004
Here is a marker of life:
Barbara E. Hindle: September 12, 1924 – December 15, 2003
It is impossible for me to define a life which helped to define mine, but here I honor my grandmother’s memory. My spiritual leader and provider.
She had a misunderstood daughter in my mother, and I believe she strove to correct her perceived failings in me.
I can only hope I gave her something in return.
She had a family burial plot, but she chose instead to be cremated and to have her ashes scattered in the same lake my mother’s ashes had been scattered. My aunt said the idea fascinated my grandmother, to have those ashes travel the lakes and rivers, to reach the Gulf, and move on the oceans- to move at one with my mother, just once.
I rejoice her body and spirit have found a better way. I rejoice that she has been and will always be part of who I am.
Barbara E. Hindle: September 12, 1924 – December 15, 2003
It is impossible for me to define a life which helped to define mine, but here I honor my grandmother’s memory. My spiritual leader and provider.
She had a misunderstood daughter in my mother, and I believe she strove to correct her perceived failings in me.
I can only hope I gave her something in return.
She had a family burial plot, but she chose instead to be cremated and to have her ashes scattered in the same lake my mother’s ashes had been scattered. My aunt said the idea fascinated my grandmother, to have those ashes travel the lakes and rivers, to reach the Gulf, and move on the oceans- to move at one with my mother, just once.
I rejoice her body and spirit have found a better way. I rejoice that she has been and will always be part of who I am.
"The plot is so Captitizing, and when you think it needs a better ending, you think back over everything you've read, and say "It's good enough." "
"When I read this book, I knew this was THE book. It touched me, but not really."
These are reviews from a book that I read as a teenager. I kind of wanted to read it again, but maybe I'm remembering it as much better than it really was . . .
"When I read this book, I knew this was THE book. It touched me, but not really."
These are reviews from a book that I read as a teenager. I kind of wanted to read it again, but maybe I'm remembering it as much better than it really was . . .
Friday, February 27, 2004
You're Animal Farm!
by George Orwell
You are living proof that power corrupts and whoever leads you will
become just as bad as the past leaders. You're quite conflicted about this emotionally
and waver from hopelessly idealistic to tragically jaded. Ultimately, you know you can't
trust pigs. Your best moments are when you're down on all fours.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
This is why I don't flip channels . . . usually. I was going through my meager number of stations when I came across the public television station. Within 5 seconds I had said "Ugh! Ahh! Ick!" concerning the introduction images for the program which was about to air.
But I was hooked, I had to see the brain surgery, I had to see the (artificial) limb replacement surgery . . . I had to know! So there I was, shunning American Idol, but like a magnet- stuck to the lives of these two people going through crazy tramatic surgeries on camera.
One was a 60 something woman who had been blind for almost 30 years. The doctors were implanting electrodes on her brain to stimulate her visual cortex. The desired result was for a camera attached to a pair of glasses to feed images to a computer, the computer to translate them to the brain, and the brain to translate a dot matrix to the eye. She could "see" what they called phonemes- twinkling dots outlining contrasts. A $100, 000 dollar venture to see twinkling outlines. Risking death or brain damage-- I'm not sure I'd be able to go so far. She had 40 wires coming out of two "ports" in the back of her head, and a bulky, heavy computer to wear around her waist. The doctor called it a "vacation from blindness" not a cure. But he hopes to advance it into a cure in the future.
A special note for the roomie: they stuck her head back together with "biologic glue." Which to me looked Abysmal with a capital B!
The second person on the show was an older Norwegian man. He had lost his leg in a hiking accident. He was getting a titanium rod implanted into his bone so that he could attach an artificial leg without the use of a vacuum seal (which is how most artificial limbs are attached.) It was stated that "the discovery of titanium's adaptability to living tissue was an accident." The doctor then said, "I was implanting titanium in rabbit's legs . . . " Wait a minute? An accident?!
"I accidentally implanted a titanium rod in this rabbit's leg . . . " Or was it more like, "Well, I was implanting things into rabbit's legs, you know, to see what would happen . . . I implanted bologna, taco shells, pink erasers ( What floats aside from wood? more wood! rocks! small churches!) nothing happened. Well, of course the rabbits died, but aside from that, nothing, until I implanted the titanium!"
Anyway, this procedure was over 90% successful. But for some reason, which they didn't explain, it had only been preformed on less than 100 patients.
But I was hooked, I had to see the brain surgery, I had to see the (artificial) limb replacement surgery . . . I had to know! So there I was, shunning American Idol, but like a magnet- stuck to the lives of these two people going through crazy tramatic surgeries on camera.
One was a 60 something woman who had been blind for almost 30 years. The doctors were implanting electrodes on her brain to stimulate her visual cortex. The desired result was for a camera attached to a pair of glasses to feed images to a computer, the computer to translate them to the brain, and the brain to translate a dot matrix to the eye. She could "see" what they called phonemes- twinkling dots outlining contrasts. A $100, 000 dollar venture to see twinkling outlines. Risking death or brain damage-- I'm not sure I'd be able to go so far. She had 40 wires coming out of two "ports" in the back of her head, and a bulky, heavy computer to wear around her waist. The doctor called it a "vacation from blindness" not a cure. But he hopes to advance it into a cure in the future.
A special note for the roomie: they stuck her head back together with "biologic glue." Which to me looked Abysmal with a capital B!
The second person on the show was an older Norwegian man. He had lost his leg in a hiking accident. He was getting a titanium rod implanted into his bone so that he could attach an artificial leg without the use of a vacuum seal (which is how most artificial limbs are attached.) It was stated that "the discovery of titanium's adaptability to living tissue was an accident." The doctor then said, "I was implanting titanium in rabbit's legs . . . " Wait a minute? An accident?!
"I accidentally implanted a titanium rod in this rabbit's leg . . . " Or was it more like, "Well, I was implanting things into rabbit's legs, you know, to see what would happen . . . I implanted bologna, taco shells, pink erasers ( What floats aside from wood? more wood! rocks! small churches!) nothing happened. Well, of course the rabbits died, but aside from that, nothing, until I implanted the titanium!"
Anyway, this procedure was over 90% successful. But for some reason, which they didn't explain, it had only been preformed on less than 100 patients.
Monday, February 16, 2004
Sunday, February 15, 2004
“Wendy,” he said, “don’t withdraw. I can’t help crowing, Wendy, when I’m pleased with myself.” Still she would not look up, though she was listening eagerly. “Wendy,” he continued, in a voice that no woman has ever yet been able to resist, “Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys.”
Now Wendy was every inch a woman, though there were not very many inches, and she peeped out of the bedclothes.
“Do you really think so, Peter?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I think it’s perfectly sweet of you,” she declared, “and I’ll get up again;” and she sat with him on the side of the bed. She also said she would give him a kiss if he liked, but Peter did not know what she meant, and he held out his hand expectantly.”
“Surely you know what a kiss is?” she asked, aghast.
“I shall know when you give it to me,” he replied stiffly; and not to hurt his feelings she gave him a thimble.
“Now,” said he, “shall I give you a kiss?” and she replied with a slight primness, “If you please.” She made herself rather cheap by inclining her face toward him, but he merely dropped an acorn button into her hand; so she slowly returned her face to where it had been before, and said nicely that she would wear his kiss on the chain round her neck. It was lucky that she did put it on that chain, for it was afterwards to save her life.
Peter Pan
I think I could write a paper about this excerpt, very insightful concerning the male anf female psyche.
Now Wendy was every inch a woman, though there were not very many inches, and she peeped out of the bedclothes.
“Do you really think so, Peter?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I think it’s perfectly sweet of you,” she declared, “and I’ll get up again;” and she sat with him on the side of the bed. She also said she would give him a kiss if he liked, but Peter did not know what she meant, and he held out his hand expectantly.”
“Surely you know what a kiss is?” she asked, aghast.
“I shall know when you give it to me,” he replied stiffly; and not to hurt his feelings she gave him a thimble.
“Now,” said he, “shall I give you a kiss?” and she replied with a slight primness, “If you please.” She made herself rather cheap by inclining her face toward him, but he merely dropped an acorn button into her hand; so she slowly returned her face to where it had been before, and said nicely that she would wear his kiss on the chain round her neck. It was lucky that she did put it on that chain, for it was afterwards to save her life.
Peter Pan
I think I could write a paper about this excerpt, very insightful concerning the male anf female psyche.
So, I’ve always hated snow. From the first time I touched it until I woke up this morning and saw it glistening on the black tree branches outside my window.
I stayed inside all day . . . occasionally glaring out the window at the slowly melting snow. My “White Valentine’s Day” has not been the greatest, besides the frozenness of it all, my would be Valentine is otherwise indisposed on this fine day.
About six o’clock, finally my boredom over came my anti-snow sentiments and I went out to start my car. I looked at the snow still piled on the windshield. I considered my options in removing it. I was against touching it if at all possible. I decided to see if my windshield wipers were powerful enough to push all that nasty wet snow off the windshield, thusly saving me from coming in direct contact with the stuff.
It seemed a brilliant idea, and as I turned the wipers on, I was delighted to see that it would work! Alas, as in the movies, when everything slows down just before tragedy strikes—I saw it happening, but I was frozen, I couldn’t react fast enough . . .
I had turned the wipers on before I closed the car door—all the snow that had been piled on the windshield, was suddenly wiped right off the glass and into my car, and on to my foot and all over my power windows and locks door panel . . . Just another one of my brilliant moments.
I stayed inside all day . . . occasionally glaring out the window at the slowly melting snow. My “White Valentine’s Day” has not been the greatest, besides the frozenness of it all, my would be Valentine is otherwise indisposed on this fine day.
About six o’clock, finally my boredom over came my anti-snow sentiments and I went out to start my car. I looked at the snow still piled on the windshield. I considered my options in removing it. I was against touching it if at all possible. I decided to see if my windshield wipers were powerful enough to push all that nasty wet snow off the windshield, thusly saving me from coming in direct contact with the stuff.
It seemed a brilliant idea, and as I turned the wipers on, I was delighted to see that it would work! Alas, as in the movies, when everything slows down just before tragedy strikes—I saw it happening, but I was frozen, I couldn’t react fast enough . . .
I had turned the wipers on before I closed the car door—all the snow that had been piled on the windshield, was suddenly wiped right off the glass and into my car, and on to my foot and all over my power windows and locks door panel . . . Just another one of my brilliant moments.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
I had a dream the other night that I was to be the mother of the new prophet.
The atmosphere was somewhere between a Muslim state and the setting of one of my favorite negative utopia books The Handmaiden's Tale.
I was standing in a large, windowless room full of women, most of them preganent, like me. We were all wearing long robes and veils, waiting in line. We were all displeased about our situations and we were complaining and demanding our rights to the (female) authorities.
My neighbor in line had rights because she was wife of a high official. I had rights because I was to be the mother of the new prophet.
Then a woman came in and quickly, quietly said, "They will aim at the table tops." Then she closed the door. As she left the lights went out and the room was black. Somehow all the women knew that this declaration meant to get on the floor.
Then the men came with machine guns and shot at the level of the table tops. They left. No one was hurt.
The atmosphere was somewhere between a Muslim state and the setting of one of my favorite negative utopia books The Handmaiden's Tale.
I was standing in a large, windowless room full of women, most of them preganent, like me. We were all wearing long robes and veils, waiting in line. We were all displeased about our situations and we were complaining and demanding our rights to the (female) authorities.
My neighbor in line had rights because she was wife of a high official. I had rights because I was to be the mother of the new prophet.
Then a woman came in and quickly, quietly said, "They will aim at the table tops." Then she closed the door. As she left the lights went out and the room was black. Somehow all the women knew that this declaration meant to get on the floor.
Then the men came with machine guns and shot at the level of the table tops. They left. No one was hurt.
From someone who's been to the UAE and Kish ("The Land of Tranquilizing," as advertised in the Kish Airport) I have this to say concerning the following excerpts from an article in the international section of MSN news . . .
"What the heck is he talking about?"
Thank you for your time.
Kish, one of the three free trade zones in Iran, is the Islamic Republic’s attempt to lure tourism and foreign exchange. The island operates as a kind of bridge between the conservative morality of mainland Iran and the bikini-and-booze freedoms in parts of the United Arab Emirates, 60 miles away.
Unlike the mainland, there are no rules to limit the mingling of unrelated men and women. They even get together in wet suits for scuba diving classes — impossible elsewhere under Iran’s strict dress codes. On the streets, women go without the long coat worn across Iran.
"What the heck is he talking about?"
Thank you for your time.
Kish, one of the three free trade zones in Iran, is the Islamic Republic’s attempt to lure tourism and foreign exchange. The island operates as a kind of bridge between the conservative morality of mainland Iran and the bikini-and-booze freedoms in parts of the United Arab Emirates, 60 miles away.
Unlike the mainland, there are no rules to limit the mingling of unrelated men and women. They even get together in wet suits for scuba diving classes — impossible elsewhere under Iran’s strict dress codes. On the streets, women go without the long coat worn across Iran.
French lawmakers overwhelmingly back veil ban
Law would prohibit religious symbols in state schools
"The key passage of the law, which schools would apply from September, reads: “In primary and secondary state schools, wearing signs and clothes that conspicuously display the pupil’s religious affiliation is forbidden.”
The issue goes to the heart of France’s self-image as a secular state that keeps faith out of state schools and services to ensure no religion dominates or suffers discrimination.
Law would prohibit religious symbols in state schools
"The key passage of the law, which schools would apply from September, reads: “In primary and secondary state schools, wearing signs and clothes that conspicuously display the pupil’s religious affiliation is forbidden.”
The issue goes to the heart of France’s self-image as a secular state that keeps faith out of state schools and services to ensure no religion dominates or suffers discrimination.
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
Today I learned the largest fish ever caught was a Russian Sturgeon. It was 24 feel long, 3250 pounds and caught in the Volget River (Russia of course.) That is one big fish. Normal size for a Russian Sturgeon is about 8 feet and 46 pounds.
And they are ugly, and they are the biggest producers of caviar.
I also learned how to say, "I love you, stupid" in Swahili. Ask me sometime.
And the biggest and tallest mountain from base to top is Mauna Loa. But it doesn't get much recognition because it's hanging out in the Pacific.
And they are ugly, and they are the biggest producers of caviar.
I also learned how to say, "I love you, stupid" in Swahili. Ask me sometime.
And the biggest and tallest mountain from base to top is Mauna Loa. But it doesn't get much recognition because it's hanging out in the Pacific.
Mad Lib Time!
I got a Mad Lib a Day calendar: Play along with me: This is one of my favorites-
(My words)
1. Silly word 1. Googly fart
2. Article of clothing (plural) 2. Pants
3. Plural noun 3. Folders
4. Verb (past tense) 4. Spat (on)
5. Adjective 5. Pretty
Got your words? Now fill in the blanks
On February 1, 1979, the _____1_______ Khomeni took over Iran. He made all women wear ____2______ on their heads, banned all ____3_____ and ____4_____ anyone who disagreed with him, thereby showing the world the _____5_____ side of Islam.
I got a Mad Lib a Day calendar: Play along with me: This is one of my favorites-
(My words)
1. Silly word 1. Googly fart
2. Article of clothing (plural) 2. Pants
3. Plural noun 3. Folders
4. Verb (past tense) 4. Spat (on)
5. Adjective 5. Pretty
Got your words? Now fill in the blanks
On February 1, 1979, the _____1_______ Khomeni took over Iran. He made all women wear ____2______ on their heads, banned all ____3_____ and ____4_____ anyone who disagreed with him, thereby showing the world the _____5_____ side of Islam.
Learn something new today:
It’s good to learn something everyday. I’m sure we all learn something new almost everyday, but sometimes I just can’t pin point what I’ve learned. It is my mission this month to intentionally learn something new each day.
I had a bit of a late start on this one, but here’s what I got for the past few days: Today I looked up the definition of the Immaculate Conception. I had thought in the past that the term applied to the conception of Jesus, but somewhere in the back of my head I didn’t think that was right . . . I must have read something somewhere . . . I decided to find out about it.
The immaculate conception refers to Mary, the mother of Christ. According to the Catholic Church dogma, Mary was born without the burden of original sin (although she still carried the penalty of it, “Unfair!” I say.) Some theologians believed (believe) that Mary was sinless, because the redemption of Christ bought her whole and unblemished.
I read (am still reading) about all this from the Catholic Encyclopedia. What I thought would be a one to two page explanation (at the most) turned out to be a fourteen page article. Oh those Catholics do go on . . .
Yesterday I did some research on the “Bubble Boy.” I just watched the 1977 made for TV movie “Boy in the Plastic Bubble” starring a very young John Travolta. I had heard it was “based on a true story.” So I was trying to find the “true story.”
As it turns out there really was a Bubble Boy, but only one. A small percentage of children over the years have been born without immune systems. Today this condition is treated with drugs, blood transfusions and bone marrow transplants and is still very deadly.
The majority of the children born with out immune systems are boys. In the late 1950s (I think) a boy named David Vetter was born and immediately diagnosed with the disease. (His older brother had already died of the condition.) Soon after birth David was isolated. He remained in his “bubble” until he died as a result of experimental treatments at age 12.
It’s good to learn something everyday. I’m sure we all learn something new almost everyday, but sometimes I just can’t pin point what I’ve learned. It is my mission this month to intentionally learn something new each day.
I had a bit of a late start on this one, but here’s what I got for the past few days: Today I looked up the definition of the Immaculate Conception. I had thought in the past that the term applied to the conception of Jesus, but somewhere in the back of my head I didn’t think that was right . . . I must have read something somewhere . . . I decided to find out about it.
The immaculate conception refers to Mary, the mother of Christ. According to the Catholic Church dogma, Mary was born without the burden of original sin (although she still carried the penalty of it, “Unfair!” I say.) Some theologians believed (believe) that Mary was sinless, because the redemption of Christ bought her whole and unblemished.
I read (am still reading) about all this from the Catholic Encyclopedia. What I thought would be a one to two page explanation (at the most) turned out to be a fourteen page article. Oh those Catholics do go on . . .
Yesterday I did some research on the “Bubble Boy.” I just watched the 1977 made for TV movie “Boy in the Plastic Bubble” starring a very young John Travolta. I had heard it was “based on a true story.” So I was trying to find the “true story.”
As it turns out there really was a Bubble Boy, but only one. A small percentage of children over the years have been born without immune systems. Today this condition is treated with drugs, blood transfusions and bone marrow transplants and is still very deadly.
The majority of the children born with out immune systems are boys. In the late 1950s (I think) a boy named David Vetter was born and immediately diagnosed with the disease. (His older brother had already died of the condition.) Soon after birth David was isolated. He remained in his “bubble” until he died as a result of experimental treatments at age 12.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
I'm all about bartering lately. Everytime anyone asks me for the least little thing, "Hey, can I use your pen?" "Can I have a piece of gum?" "Will you come here for a minute?" I say, "What's in it for me?" "What am I going to get out of it?" "What have you done for me lately?" (Ooooo-yeah- thank you Miss Jackson, if you're nasty)
ok, so I'm stalking withadot's blog, so what of it?
When I was six I decided 6 was a great age to be, and that from that time forward 6 would be my favorite number: Thus not surprising to know . . .
When I was six I decided 6 was a great age to be, and that from that time forward 6 would be my favorite number: Thus not surprising to know . . .
My inner child is six years old!
Look what I can do! I can walk, I can run, I can
read! I like to do stuff, and there's a whole
big world out there to do it in. Just so long
as I can take my blankie and my Mommy and my
three best friends with me, of course.
How Old is Your Inner Child?
brought to you by Quizilla
I feel much more accomplished with this map, although there are still many places for me . . .
create your own visited states map
or write about it on the open travel guide
create your own visited states map
or write about it on the open travel guide
Man, it's hard to visualize how many places you haven't been . . . here's a map
create your own visited country map
or write about it on the open travel guide
create your own visited country map
or write about it on the open travel guide
Saturday, January 31, 2004
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
Sure at home I'm Kermit, but at work . . .
You are Beaker.
You are very tense, stressed and paranoid. You hate
furthering the cause of science, as it tends to
get you blown up.
SPECIAL TALENTS:
Scientific assistant, Victim
LAST BOOK READ:
"1001 Meeps to a Bigger Vocabulary"
FAVORITE MOVIE:
"Run Silent, Run Meep"
QUOTE:
"Meep! Meep! Meep!"
NEVER LEAVES HOME WITHOUT:
Medical Coverage
What Muppet are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are Beaker.
You are very tense, stressed and paranoid. You hate
furthering the cause of science, as it tends to
get you blown up.
SPECIAL TALENTS:
Scientific assistant, Victim
LAST BOOK READ:
"1001 Meeps to a Bigger Vocabulary"
FAVORITE MOVIE:
"Run Silent, Run Meep"
QUOTE:
"Meep! Meep! Meep!"
NEVER LEAVES HOME WITHOUT:
Medical Coverage
What Muppet are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
At the book store today I was suprised (I don't know why I let these things suprise me at this age) 1. The "Baptist Bible," edited by Dr. Criswell and 2. The "Gay Mystics" and I checked to make sure they didn't mean in the "I'm happy, jovial and fun-to-be-around" kind of way. I couldn't bear to investigate further as to who the gay mystics were/are or what made that Bible esp. Baptist.
Monday, January 26, 2004
I decided to take a walk, and I figure if I taking a walk I should at least end up somewhere. I decided to end up at Goodwill. I bought four National Geographics, and two dresses. All for the low price of $13.84. As I was walking home, a guy came up to me to tell me his sad story about being homeless, broke, etc. So I gave him five bucks. He gave me a knock off Swiss Army knife, you know, in exchange. Then he blessed me-- that I might have a car under my feet so I didn't have to walk.
I wasn't brave enough to tell a man in wheelchair that I have a car, I like to walk.
I wasn't brave enough to tell a man in wheelchair that I have a car, I like to walk.
Friday, January 23, 2004
You are Kermit the Frog.
You are reliable, responsible and caring. And you
have a habit of waving your arms about
maniacally.
FAVORITE EXPRESSIONS:
"Hi ho!" "Yaaay!" and
"Sheesh!"
FAVORITE MOVIE:
"How Green Was My Mother"
LAST BOOK READ:
"Surfin' the Webfoot: A Frog's Guide to the
Internet"
HOBBIES:
Sitting in the swamp playing banjo.
QUOTE:
"Hmm, my banjo is wet."
What Muppet are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Thursday, January 22, 2004
Where AIDS comes from:
What is the story you heard? I heard it came from Africa. Someone (an African someone to be sure) ate an infected monkey brain (uncooked, as a delicacy of course) and that person became infected and it just spread from there. It hopped continents with the travelers. Conclusion-AIDS came from Africa.
What have Africans heard?
AIDS came from Westerners. Westerners having beastial relations contracted the disease. Then, by way of research, poor Africans were intentially infected to see the course the disease woud run. In that way it was introduced to Africa.
I wonder where it came from according to Chinese people?
What is the story you heard? I heard it came from Africa. Someone (an African someone to be sure) ate an infected monkey brain (uncooked, as a delicacy of course) and that person became infected and it just spread from there. It hopped continents with the travelers. Conclusion-AIDS came from Africa.
What have Africans heard?
AIDS came from Westerners. Westerners having beastial relations contracted the disease. Then, by way of research, poor Africans were intentially infected to see the course the disease woud run. In that way it was introduced to Africa.
I wonder where it came from according to Chinese people?
Sunday, January 18, 2004
I think my cat's in heat.
I also think she thinks her name is "Get-down-get-back-get-out-stupid-beasty-cat!"
I found my "Magnum 12" rubberband gun under my bed today . . . I've pegged her several times already. It's alot easier than getting up to chase her away from something. It's like a remote control for my cat. :0)
Her name is Suzy. If I had a weiner dog, I'd name him Richard.
I also think she thinks her name is "Get-down-get-back-get-out-stupid-beasty-cat!"
I found my "Magnum 12" rubberband gun under my bed today . . . I've pegged her several times already. It's alot easier than getting up to chase her away from something. It's like a remote control for my cat. :0)
Her name is Suzy. If I had a weiner dog, I'd name him Richard.
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