Saturday, December 31, 2005

First Rabbit Rabbit of 2006

I bet you didn't know that Father Time was a Rabbit, didcha? Ha! So, it's the first day of the new year, and you learned somethin' right here.

Happy New Year! So, whatcha gonna do with it, huh?

Friday, December 30, 2005

It's that time

This is the time when a lot of people make New Year's Resolutions. I dunno why. Mostly we just break them right away. Besides, I think the number one resolution made in the U.S. is to lose weight. But as Jay Leno says: "Now there are more overweight people in America than average-weight people. So overweight people are now average. Which means you've met your New Year's resolution." So. There ya go.

'Course, I always resolve to save the world from destruction before breakfast. I've done that a couple of times. Resolved it. Not saved it.

I think we should make resolutions for OTHER people to keep. Like for my adopted son, Doug of Waking Ambrose, I resolve that he will start a list of four to six-syllable nerbs, just in case someone ever needs one.

For my daughter Acton Bell, I resolve that she take a cruise on a floating micro-brewery with a book group that discusses Bronte novels exclusively.

For my daughter Aral of AP3, I resolve that she form an ice hockey league for vegetarian Hindu priests who read religious books in the penalty box.

For my daughter 3D, I resolve that she install a kitchen in her van so that she can make band fudge while holding Girl Scout meetings in the car and driving the cats to the vet.

Let's throw in an infamous person: for Donald Trump: To buy new hair.

Okay, your turn. Write a resolution for somebody ELSE. Famous, infamous, or whatever.

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Smart phone

I got a new cell phone yesterday. It's sweet. It's got a buncha new features (new to me anyway). It takes pictures, has voice dialing, e-mail, mobile web. Good stuff.

Anyway, last night I sat down with the User Guide to learn how to use all this junk. I laughed so hard my eyes disappeared, I lost sound, my body was convulsing, you know the routine. I was trying to read the Important Safety Precautions to husband Niks.

He was dying laughing too. 'Course he was dying laughing at me, since he couldn't hear any of the safety precautions. Told you: I lost sound.

The very first warning: Violation of the instructions may cause serious injury or death.
Whoa! DEATH? By cell phone? Holy shit!! This is some serious phone I got here.

Next comes: Never place your phone in a microwave oven. Aw, maaaannnnn! You mean I gotta eat it raw???!

Then: Do not dispose of your battery by fire. Is by flood okay I wonder?

Also: Be careful that children do not swallow any parts of the phone. Heck, since I can't cook it in the microwave, I seriously doubt that I could talk a kid into eating it anyway. But I guess chewing on it is okay. Just no swallowing. You guys. Don't go there.

Then: Do not drop, strike, or shake your phone severely. I guess that all punishment has to be stuff like time-outs. I'll never get control of the phone if I have to send it to its room. Or maybe I should call the customer service and get a definition of "severely." Yeah. I think I'll do that.

Here are some other silly instructions:

On Sears hair dryer: Do not use while sleeping. Jeez. Can't get those extra z's in the AM.

On bag of Fritos: You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside. Steal the bag.

On a box of Dial Soap: Directions: Use like regular soap. You know how to use irregular soap I'm sure.

On some Schwann's frozen dinners: Serving suggestion: Defrost. Even in the summer?

On a hotel provided shower cap in a box: Fits one head. But not a big ego.

On Tesco's Tiramisu desert: Do not turn upside down. (Printed on the bottom of the box.) Now you tell me.

On Marks & Spencer Bread Pudding: Product will be hot after heating. I had no idea that heating caused heat.

On packaging for a Rowenta Iron: Do not iron clothes on body. Okay, I've actually tired this on a morning when I was runnin' late.

On Boot's Children's Cough Medicine: Do not drive car or operate machinery. What about kids in China? They gotta work, don't they?

On Nytol (a sleep aid): Warning: May cause drowsiness. Oh, drat. And here you are at work.

On a Korean kitchen knife: Warning: Keep out of children. So, how're we gonna cut 'em up?

On a string of Chinese-made Christmas lights: For indoor or outdoor use only. I'm thinking.

On a Japanese food processor: Not to be used for other use. Speechless.

On Sainbury's peanuts: Warning: Contains Nuts. Is that all? No peas?

On an American Airlines packet of nuts: Instructions: Open packet, eat nuts. Can't use these as a douche.

On a Swedish chainsaw: Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands. Feet are okay.

On a box of aspirin: Do not take if allergic to aspirin. One aspirin is just like another?

To be truly safe: Just stay at home and be very, very still. Niks and I are going to the movies to see The Squid and the Whale . We're old. It's okay if we get killed by popcorn or somethin'.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

We're on the road to nowhere

Radio question of the day:
A fifth of us admit that we've called in sick to work because of this. What is it?

My friend Irene and I have had to go inside to mall walk now that it's icy in the mornings. Yesterday the mall opened at 6 AM for after Christmas shopping. The mall was packed!

Boy! People are a trip, ya know? We could barely move through the crowds. Too many people, boldly going nowhere. Yakking away. You want to ask them if people on their planet ever shut up.

Actually I want the Gene Police to take care of them: YOU! Out of the pool! God must love stupid people. He made so many of 'em. But if you think of it, half the people you know are below average. So, don't think about it.

We're tryin' to walk, and here these folks are, meandering to a different drummer, in our way. Oh, you think I'm just jealous because I can't hear the voices in their heads. But I can hear 'em too. I just don't have to answer out loud.

This one old guy, a born ass hole (the rest probably grew later), just has to stop and talk to all the old ladies. It's like: Here I am! Now what are your other two wishes? My other two wishes are, one: get lost; two: drop dead. He struts when he walks, and he dresses spiffy too. He obviously knows that clothes make the man. It's true. Naked people have little or no influence on society. So I can't fault him on that.

Did I ever mention the little old guy who checks out all the coin-operated machines? You know, those gumball machines and such? He goes to every coin-operated machine in the mall, and rattles the handle, checks the coin-return slot, etc. He's pretty much diagonally parked in a parallel universe. Sweet old guy though. He's slower and frailer than he was last year when we were mall walking. I missed him in the spring, summer, and fall when we were walking outside. I worried about him. We used to try to get to the mall before he did and put money in the machines for him. You know what's scary? He drives to the mall.

A lot of the old people who walk at the mall have to use walkers. Some of them are all bent over. But they DRIVE to the mall. They should not be driving. They have handicapped license plates. They have to park close to the entrance. But they walk miles inside the mall. I better stop thinkin' about all this now. Better living through denial.

There's a nut case out there who carries a big bag around with him on his walk.
He's not suffering from insanity. He's enjoying every minute of it. I'm dyin' to know what's in the bag. Irene and I have talked about one of us trippin' him and the other one grabbing the bag for a look-see. But this is the only mall in the area. Not another one on this side of the river. We'd have to drive a long way to mall-walk after we pulled a prank like that. Maybe in the spring right before we go back outside to walk. Maybe the other old folks would forget about it by the next winter. Those old folks.

Answer to the radio question of the day: You don't have coffee in the house.

I should have guessed that. This morning I discovered that we were out of coffee fillers. I had to make one out of a paper towel. It worked. Otherwise I would have called in sick to the mall. Come to think of it, I've used up all my sick days, so next time I'm calling in dead.

Monday, December 26, 2005

It ain't over yet

We had a very nice Christmas DAY, but the season isn't over yet. It goes all the way to January first. Make that January second. At least. Then there's all the football games. And more food.

We have more gatherings to attend. Yea!

By the time it's all over, we can all collectively sing. We can be the fat ladies and fat boys chorus.

But first, we all have to eat more stuff. Hope you're all still having fun. No workin', ya hear?
You guys.

Friday, December 23, 2005

Have the merriest of Holidays

I hope whatever holiday you are celebrating this season, it is as good as good can be! For me that means Merry Christmas ! For you, it may mean Happy Hanukkah, *Festivus For The Rest of Us, or even something else entirely. Whatever it is, make it merry.

*C'est chic reminded me of Festivus For The Rest Of Us. Great holiday! How did I forget it?

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Nobody knows the truffles I've seen

On Tuesday when I took Peggy for her chemo treatment, I had time to kill. So I went to Chocolate World. Hershey PA truly is a sweet town! I love chocolate, but I didn't buy any for myself. My daughters of course know that they give you chocolate when you take the tour ride which explains how the cacao beans are harvested and become the chocolate that we eat and drink. (They also take a photo of you on the ride. That's me up there. I need color, don'tcha think?)

So, I did eat that little bit of chocolate that they force on you. But all the chocolate that I bought there is for other people. Of course, once you've had Schwartz' chocolate, you don't lust after Hershey chocolate so much anyway.

Most women love chocolate. So if you need to buy one last gift for a woman somewhere, my advice is to make it chocolate.

I shamelessly stole these chocolate rules from this Author Unknown guy. Some name, huh?
If you've got melted chocolate all over your hands, you're eating it too slowly.

Clearly, chocolate is a vegetable. Chocolate is derived from cacao beans. A bean is a vegetable. Wait! There's more! Sugar is derived from either sugar cane or sugar beets. Both are plants, which places them in the vegetable category. QED: chocolate is a vegetable.

Chocolate-covered raisins, -cherries, -orange slices and -strawberries all count as fruit. Eat as many as you want. Fruits are an important part of the Food Pyramid.

Hot tip: Eat a chocolate bar before each meal. It'll take the edge off your appetite and you'll eat less. I've tested this. It's true.

If calories are an issue, store your chocolate on top of the fridge. Calories are afraid of heights, and they will jump out of the chocolate to protect themselves.

Money talks. Chocolate sings.

Chocolate has many preservatives. Preservatives make you look younger. Therefore, chocolate is therapeutic.

Put "eat chocolate" at the top of your list of things to do today. That way, at least you'll get one thing done.

A nice box of chocolates can provide your total daily intake of calories in one place. Isn't that handy?

If you can't eat all your chocolate, it will keep in the freezer. But if you can't eat all your chocolate, what's wrong with you?

I would like to add my own rules and observations to the above "rules."

Chocolate eaten while standing over the kitchen sink, doesn't count as calories.

Chocolate eaten between midnight at 4 AM has no calories.

Flowers wilt, jewelry tarnishes, and candles burn out ...BUT CHOCOLATE DOESN'T HANG AROUND LONG ENOUGH TO GET OLD. Still, a general rule of thumb is that most any food cannot be kept longer than the average life span of a hamster. (Keep a hamster in your refrigerator to gauge this.)

When in doubt, and it's chocolate, go ahead and eat it.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

All I want for Christmas

Radio question of the day:
60 percent of married men cannot do this at Christmas time. What is it?


Well, we're closin' in on Christmas. Hope you have all your shopping done. I have everything ready except the things that can't be done this far ahead, like buying some food products that I want as fresh as possible. Some cooking of course has to be done at the last minute also.

What do you want for Christmas? I mean other than World Peace and such. I know you were gonna ask for "World Peace." You guys. So sweet. But just this once, be selfish. What one material thing that is strictly for yourself, would you want for Christmas?

Don't worry I'm not going to rush out and buy it, so the sky's the limit. Just one thing. Just for you. What does your heart-of-hearts desire for Christmas?


Answer to question of the day: They cannot remember what they got their wife the year before.

Monday, December 19, 2005

Another volunteer day

Today I take a church friend out to Hershey Medical Center for her chemotherapy treatment. I do this every three weeks. She's a darling person. This takes from 8 AM to about 1 PM, depending on how things go. So, if I'm not too tired when I get back, I'll make the rounds this evening. I miss you guys.

I am very happy to be able to do this for Peggy. She's had two cancers, and all the while her husband is quite sick. He had a liver transplant during her first cancer. Now he needs a new kidney. These are not old people. They are middle-aged. I have my health. I'm humbled by my good luck.

So off I go. But I could leave you with a little something I suppose.

there you are, having a dinner party.....
Your parents are there,
Your in-laws are there,
Your boss and his wife are there,
The minister and his wife are there,
You're all settling down for a nice relaxing evening dinner,
Then in walks the dog....

Sunday, December 18, 2005

Very busy day

Radio question of the day:

33 percent of us do this in the kitchen. 25 percent in the bedroom? What is it?


Today is a very busy day for me. I have lots to do including shopping for Christmas Day food and person-sitting dddragon's MIL. No time to write. But, of course, I'll read. You don't get to say that you are busy. I said it first. I'd have nothing to read tonight if you claim that you have a life too.

You guys have a nice day. Somewhere else. And I mean that in the best possible way.

Answer to the question of the day:
What do 33 percent of us do this in the kitchen and 25 percent in the bedroom?

A: Wrap Christmas presents.

Saturday, December 17, 2005

How weird am I?

Weird enough to post a cartoon I know you can't read. Pretty weird, huh? If you're lucky, Monika will drop by and tell you what it says.

Sylvie of Crazy Fat Lady Blues tagged me, and I guess I'll play, since I have nothing to say anyway, and all day to say it.

Here are the rules:

The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits that I have," and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. (That was what it said, otherwise, believe me I would not have stated it clearly. I would have messed it up, just because I'm that kinda gal.)

In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don’t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says "You are tagged" (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours in order to get the rules.

I have weirdness to spare. So this is easy.

1. I support Planned Parenthood just because I believe in stopping crime at its source.

2. I talk to myself. I like dealing with an intelligent, better-class person.

3. I still have some ashes that I intend to scatter. From three different dead relatives. I keep'em in my closet. I've scattered some of the ashes for each one of these people, but the supply of ashes exceeded the demand, ifyaknowwhatImean. The weird habit part is that I dust them. I don't think havin' the ashes is weird. Do you? You people!

4. I have people thinking that I have energy. But the truth is I don't. In fact, I'm trying to arrange my life so I don't even have to be in it.

5. I think anything worth saying is worth saying three times. At a minimum. At least. You just can't say something enough. Or more. So I say things over. Again.

I'm a bit too lazy to tag someone else. I expect some of you to volunteer. If you're reading this lousy blog, you got nothin' to do. So, go tag yourself. You guys.

Friday, December 16, 2005


It's pretty white around here. So I thought I'd just stay inside and do my cards for the season(s), whatever it is. This is your "whatever" card from me for "whatever" season it is for you.

Please accept without obligation, express or implied, these best wishes for an environmentally safe, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, and gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday as practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice (but with respect for the religious or secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or for their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all) and further for a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated onset of the generally accepted calendar year (including, but not limited to, the Christian calendar, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures). The preceding wishes are extended without regard to the race, creed, age, physical ability, religious faith or lack thereof, choice of computer platform, or sexual preference of the wishee(s).

Love, TLP and Niks

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Everybody's busy

Half of you folks are so busy because of the season, that you don't know if you are coming or going. This picture is for you.

Most days I'm embarrassed to put up my piddy little post 'cause it's so nothing. Just wasting your time here. But yesterday Sar reminded me about diversion. You guys are just lucky I've decided to divert you today. Got nothin' to say of course, but here are a few poems for big kids.

Mary had a little pig,
She kept it fat and plastered;
And when the price of pork went up,
She shot the little bastard.

Her father shot it dead.
Now it goes to school with her,
Between two hunks of bread.

JACK AND JILL Went up the hill
To have a little fun.
Stupid Jill forgot the pill
And now they have a son.

SIMPLE SIMON met a Pie man going to the fair.
Said Simple Simon to the Pie man,
"What have you got there?" Said the Pie man unto Simon,
"Pies, you dumb #$%!"

HUMPTY DUMPTY sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings' horses, And all the kings' men.
Had scrambled eggs, For breakfast again.

HEY DIDDLE, DIDDLE the cat took a piddle,
All over the bedside clock.
The little dog laughed to see such fun.
Then died of electric shock.

GEORGIE PORGY Pudding and Pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
And when the boys came out to play,
He kissed them too 'cause he was gay.

There was a little girl who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, she was very, very good.
But when she was bad........ She got a fur coat, jewels, a waterfront condo, and a sports car.

But you know where bad girls go. They go everywhere. I gotta get movin' here.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Fund Raiser Nude Calendar

This is for a worthy cause.

The all-nude Police Officer calendar for 2006 comes in an all-male and an all-female version for only $8.95, (plus $2.45 for shipping and handling).

$5.00 from each sale goes to the National Police Officer Memorial Fund.

All pictures show full frontal nudity, for both female and males.

Just click on the menu to select which one you want to preview. They are available for sale on the site -- the calendars, not the officers. Click on the site below to view all 12 (24) totally nude police officers.

2006 Calendars

Remember this is for a good cause.

Mall walk

Question of the day:
The Japanese have invented a new toilet that saves water in a unique way. How does this new invention work?
Yesterday my walking buddy Irene and I went inside to walk for the first time this season. So from now until early spring, we will be mall walkers. Sigh. We like walking outside better.

A bonus to walking inside is that the mall doesn't open for walkers until 8 AM. So we can sleep later. We were walking outside in the summer at 6:30 AM. That had gradually crept up to 7:00 AM because of the shorter-light days. Now we miss the sunrise. Too bad.

One down side of walking in the mall is, well, the old people who walk in the mall so early. They dress up for the occasion. Those guys. These old ladies wear matching outfits. They put on makeup. They comb their hair! In fact, some of the hair you see on the early-morning-old-ladies looks plastic, so I guess they're not combin' that. Maybe apply fresh glue. Like that.

So anyway, now the two of us have to rake a comb through our hair and put on bras. Botheration.

Another down side is that from now until Christmas, the stores in the mall are all opening at 8 AM. Usually they open at 9:30 and 10:00 depending on the store. So yesterday, bein' the first day inside and all, Irene was like a kid in a candy store.

"Oh, look at that shirt!" Irene is all excited. "Perfect for my niece Lois!" So we stroll inside that store and check out the shirt. Further on down the line, she sees an outfit for her granddaughter. So we gotta go in there and check out the sizes and colors available. Then we really got seriously hung up in a store with bath oils, body lotions, all kinds of that stuff. We came out smelling like a rose. Also like a cucumber, black raspberries, vanilla beans, and cotton blossoms. Not to mention the sparkles we had on our faces and hands.

We were in and out of stores all down one side of the mall. At the turn, by Penney's, she was headin' in, but I caught her arm and sez, "We are not goin' the heck into Penney's."

"But it's pulling me!" she said.

"No. The only thing pullin' you is me. That's me aholda your arm."

So we get past Penney's, and she's good past the Tuxedo shop and the men's wear store next to it. She's tempted by some other places, but I've got a firm grip on her.

Then I insist that we go into Hecht's Department Store. I want her to see the Christmas decorations section there. The decorations throughout the store are pretty. But wait 'til you get to the part where they sell fake trees and sh*t.

Her mouth dropped open when she saw the first horrible fake tree. It's a neon chartreuse. The decorations on that ugly tree are neon pink, yellow, more chartreuse, orange, etc. Next to it is a turquoise fake tree. When I say "fake tree," I'm talkin' the most fake fake-tree you can imagine. Many "permanent trees" are very real looking. These fake trees are so fakey-looking it's amazing.

The turquoise tree has crabs. It's a nautical theme. Hand-sized orange crabs hanging all over it. Other fish and such too. Sad.

Then there's the dull maroon tree. It has purple, maroon, and dull gold decorations. Irene's beginnin' to choke up. But the brown fake tree really got her. "What's that?" she asked, "A fake dead Christmas tree?" Tears come to her eyes. The brown fake-dead Christmas tree has brown and dull gold decorations. It's my personal fav. Best fake-already-dead tree I ever saw.

Today we're goin' to WALK if it kills her. And by "it" I mean me. I'll just walk and drag Irene. In a mall where they sell fake dead Christmas trees, no one will notice one dead old lady being dragged along, yaknowwhatI'msayin'?

Answer to question of the day: Studies in Japan showed that many people using public toilets flushed before it was necessary to do so, in order to cover the noise they were making while using the facility. So a Japanese company has devised a toilet with a button that plays a recording of a toilet flushing. It makes the usual flushing noise (to cover any other sounds) while using no water at all. In the end, so to speak, one uses the actual flushing devise.

Monday, December 12, 2005

A Red Neck Christmas

A Red Neck Christmas
It appears that some folks need a "Night Before Christmas" that is more the way they themselves speak. So here it is.

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the trailer
Not a creature was stirrin' 'cept a redneck named Taylor.
His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,
And a-runnin' down his chin was a trickle of spittle.
His socks, they was hung by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.

That Bubba got scared and rousted the boys.
There was Rufus, 12, Jim Bob was 11, Dud goin' on 10, Otis was 7.
John, George and Chucky were 5, 4, and 3:
The twins were both girls so they let them be.

They jumped in their overalls, no need for a shirt,
Threw a hat on each head, then turned with a jerk.
They ran to the gun rack that hung on the wall.
There were 17 shotguns they grabbed them all.
Bubba said to the young'uns, "now hesh up ya'll!
The last thing we wanna do is wake up yer Maw."

Maw was expecting and needed her sleep,
So out they crept out the door without making a peep.
They all looked around, and then they all spit.
The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?"
Bubba just stared he could not say a word.

This was just like all of The stories he'd heard.
It was Santy Claus on the roof, darn tootin'
But the boys didn't know; they was about to start shootin'!
They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake
That would have resulted in venison steak.
Bubba hollered out, "don't shoot, boys!"
That's Santy Claus And he's brought us some toys.

The dogs were a-barkin' and a-raisin' cain,
And Bubba whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Down, Spot! shut up Bullet! quiet, Roscoe and Enos!
Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!"

"Git down from that porch! git down off that wall!
Quit shakin the trailer, or you'll make Santy fall!"
The dogs kept a-barkin' and wouldn't shut up,
And they trampled poor Pete
Who was only a pup.

Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.
Bubba got most, but left a few for the boys.
Since the guns had been dropped he just might not die.

He jumped in his sleigh, told his reindeer to hurry.
The trailer started to wobble, Santa started to worry.
Just as the reindeer got into the air,
The trailer collapsed, but Bubba didn't care.

He was busy lookin' at all his new toys.
Then a thought hit him, and he said to the boys:
"Go check on yer Maw, make sure she's all right.
That roof fallin' on her could-a hurt just a might."

But Maw was OK, and the girls were too.
They fixed up the trailer it looked good as new.
And as for Bubba, he liked Old St. Nick,
But Santa thought Bubba was a pure-in-tee hick!

Bubba had a nice Christmas, and the boys did, too.
And the Taylors wish a Yee Haw Merry Christmas to you!!!

Sunday, December 11, 2005

Twas the Nocturnal Serment of the Diurnal Period

The Night Before Christmas poem is one of the most parodied writings ever I believe. Here's one version for intellectuals:


Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual yuletide celebration. And throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as mus musclus.

Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood-burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an eminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St.Nicholas.

The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness, when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alactrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

Fastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar merdidan itself; thus permitting my incredulous optica lsensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus ragifer.

Piloted by a minuscule aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power traveling at what may have been more vertigiuous velocity than patriotionalar predators, he vodiferated loudly, exuelled breath musically through contracted lasia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respected cognonen; Now Dasher, now Dancer, et al.

Guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities. As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved, with utmost celerity in animal pelts soiled by the ebon residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof.

His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the planthora of assorted playthings which he bore exorsally in commodious cloth receptacle. His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of exgaging amiability.

The capillaries of his molar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the suboutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of albion's floral embelem, the latter that of the prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and superalabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their amdent hirscule facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was smoking piece whose gray fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container.

He was as short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of his task, he executed an abrupt about face, placed a singular manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage.

He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility:


Saturday, December 10, 2005

Serena time

I gotta get out to Acton Bell's and feed the cat. Don't tell on me that I was this late doin' it today.

Happy Saturday everyone!

Friday, December 09, 2005

Let it snow!

We got the most beautiful eight-inch snow last night! Our yard guys have already come and dug us out, so I have no reason not to get out. Husband Niks is usually a stick-in-the-mud, but when it snows, he changes! He loves to be out and about when we have snow.

So we're off and running. I have miles to go and promises to keep.

Have a great day everyone! Especially you kids who got a snow day off from school.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Jamie and me

Jamie Dawn and I were just fooling around, playing with fire with a friend named Frosty. Well, Frosty got too close to the flames. That guy. Remember that Jamie?

It was a nice service.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Same old, same old

Radio question of the day: 35 percent of people who use personal ads, have this in common. What is it?

The other day Light Within blogged about overhearing some young guys complaining about how marriage should be done as a ten-year contract type thing. They reasoned that after ten years a woman would just get boring. Those guys.

I got to thinking about that. So maybe my husband Niks has been bored here for decades! Poor guy. So I went to him and told him about Light's post. I said, "You know if a person is bored, then any change would help relieve that boredom. Like if a person is bored, and someone hits them on the head with a hammer, then the first person wouldn't be bored anymore." I let that sink in a little. Then I said, "Have you ever been bored in our marriage?"

"NO. NO. I've never been bored!" That's what he said. And I believe him 'cause I wasn't holdin' a hammer or anythin' at the time.

So I don't think I've bored him. I think I've sometimes made him worry, and sometimes made him scared of what I was going to do next. Sometimes I've been a tad sneaky. A girl has to be a little sneaky sometimes. He may have found me to be opinionated occasionally. But then again, nah, I'm never opinionated. But I don't think I've been boring. He may feel that I meander around my point, and that when I get to it, it's seldom worth the journey. That Niks.

I got my flu shot today. My arm's a little sore. I'm workin' on how that could be an excuse not to cook dinner tonight. See, now that's a tad sneaky. But what's the alternative? Well, I could say, "Look here buster, I'm not cookin' tonight, so get over it!"

But that would be sorta like implying that I'm the only one who ever cooks dinner around here. Oh. Wait. I am the only person who cooks dinner here. Well, anyway, I just think it looks better if I'm too impaired to cook, instead of too lazy to cook.

If I ever had a point here, I've wandered so far from it, that I've forgotten what it might have been.

Answer: They are married.

I think I'll go cook supper.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Food Pantry Day

Today is my day to volunteer at the Food Pantry in Harrisburg. Plus I had so much trouble with Blogger yesterday that I couldn't read or comment on many blogs, which is the whole point of blogging for me. I never intended to post much. I just like to read your blog.

So that's my excuse for havin' nothin' here today.

Monday, December 05, 2005

Warm enough for ya?

Proof of global warming, don'tcha think?

Radio question of the day:

Other than showering and brushing teeth, when it comes to sex early in the relationship, 78 percent of women would say no if they had not done this recently.

I don't have time to post. I have to run out to Acton Bell's and take care of her cat Serena. Then I have to go take care of dddragon's MIL. So I got stuff to do. Miles to go and promises to keep and all that jazz.

Answer to the question of the day:

Shaved their legs and/or underarms.

Okay, I can see that. Just as long as the guy has shaved his back.

Saturday, December 03, 2005

All dressed up

Back when I was still working in state government, my department had an awards dinner each November. It was a big deal. If you were in management, it was a command performance. You were expected to attend.

The guys just wore a suit. Same as they did everyday to work. In fact most of them just worked late that night and then went straight to whatever hotel had gotten the bid for the dinner that year. When I say "worked late" you understand that means they hung out in a bar shooting the breeze about sports or somethin'. Then their wives would meet them at the dinner.

But for the women it was a trial to figure out what to wear. It was a dressy affair. We mostly wore suits to work, but we had to walk a fine line about dressing up to an evening work function.

You needed to look nice, but you couldn't look sexy. Sexy is not a good look for a woman who hopes to be regarded seriously at work. But the wives could look sexy. They might work, but they worked somewhere else. So the female accountants in my department were in a quandary each year about how to dress, what to wear, etc.

The department wasn't all in one location. I was in the bureau that made policy for the entire department, and the rest of the employees were scattered out in other state departments. They worked for us, but they worked WITH other departments. A budget office is like that. So there were lots of us, but we got together only this one time a year. Well, there was the Christmas party, but that wasn't mandatory.

You guys are always interrupting me. I would naturally go in a straight line when I tell a story. So where was I? Oh. Yeah. Pickin' out a dress.

I don't mind shopping. Especially for me. I went to what passes for a nice store in these parts, and I tried on a bunch of frocks. I finally settled on one that I liked. It wasn't on sale, but I figured, this is for work, so a little bit pricey is okay. I mean, I had a career, right?

This dress was one piece, but looked as if it were three pieces. It had a black skirt, a white blouse, and a red vest with gold embellishment sewn on it. The vest looked like a separate piece that could be removed, but it could NOT be removed. Trust me on that.

I don't know how long ago this was, but it was long enough ago that I was still lookin' pretty good. And I was lookin' pretty good in this dress. So I bought it.

So I go to the big event. I go early enough that I'm there for the cocktail hour and can get the compliments that I deserve on how I look. And I do. Get the compliments. I get a lot of compliments. This is a noticeable dress and I look good in it.

I'm there about 40 minutes, suckin' up the compliments, when in walks my friend Bobbi. She works in a different building and we of course haven't compared notes on dresses. She's wearing my dress. That Bobbi.

Did I mention that it's a noticeable, eye-catching dress? Well, it is. And Bobbi is wearin' it and so am I. We get a lot of ribbing about it. Lots of jokes. Lots of fun for all. 'Cept me and Bobbi are embarrassed. Well, that's life. At least we're friends and all. And I'm at least I'm 40 pounds lighter and the dress looks better on me, so okay. I'll survive.

The big honcho of a state department is the Secretary. The Secretary usually arrives fashionably late for these affairs. In time for dinner, and in time for the awards, but not in time to hobnob with the peons.

The Secretary came in finally, with his younger, lovely wife. I'm sure you've guessed it: She was wearing MY dress. Bobbi's dress. There are three damn identical dresses.

Noticeable dress. The same damn dress. No-way-it-could-be-disguised dress.

Pretty uncomfortable evening after that. I was happy to get home.

Friday, December 02, 2005

Oh, Christmas Tree, oh Christmas tree

Radio question of the day:
95 % of women polled said, when considering a man to date, they would put up with most all the negative qualities a man might have (with exception of bad breath or body order) if the man had this one positive trait.

I'm tryin' to talk myself into getting up from this PC and putting up the Christmas tree. I have a "permanent tree." Not artificial mind you, it's a permanent tree. It's a nice one. They don't call the nice ones, artificial.

I have a love-hate relationship to Christmas trees. I do love them. Love Christmas decorations in general. But I have had some unpleasant Christmas trees.

One year I bought a pre-cut tree at a Christmas tree lot. This tree actually spit needles at me when I walked near it. You could hear the damn thing dropping needles from the next room. I was still vacuuming up those $%L# needles in the spring. It musta been cut in October and sittin' somewhere a long time before Christmas.

Another year I bought a very beautiful, very expensive, flocked "permanent tree." By the time I had assembled that tree I had flocking so far up my nose I couldn't breathe. Flocking was everywhere. In my hair, under my nails, all over my body, all over the living room, in my eyes. That flockin' tree. By the time I had the lights on it, my lungs were stopped up. Didn't put anything else on it. Didn't want lung cancer. I put it out to the curb two days after Christmas. Of course that tree brought on a flurry of vacuuming. Damn flockin' tree.

We've cut trees with the kids, bought trees off of lots, you name it, we've tried it. To know me is to know that I have no tolerance for mess. No kinda mess anywhere. But I do love a Christmas tree. So, I have a problem.

Niks and I used to have arguments every time we put up a live tree. Tryin' to get it straight, etc. So one year I hired a nursery to cut a tree, deliver it and set it up. Looked great. Niks came home from work and was shocked. "Why did you do that?" he asked.

"Because," I said, "every year we're ready to get divorced after we mess around with the tree."

"What are you talking about?" he said! "We don't fight about the tree!"

Apparently we live in two separate houses. I always had fights with the guy that was living here with me. That Niks. Living with some other babe at Christmas. That takes nerve.

Answer to the question of the day:
If the man was a very good dancer. Take a lesson.

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Rabbit Rabbit

It's that time again! Golly how the months fly by. It's the first of the month, so you'd better say Rabbit Rabbit for good luck. Can't be too careful.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

The night I was born

My father, mother, and three older sisters were all delivered by the same man, Dr. Wiley. In fact, almost all of my cousins were delivered by Dr. Wiley as well. All born in the same hick town in the boondocks of Tennessee. You can barely call it a town in fact, and for the most part they were born out in the country nearby the "town."

I just had to be different of course. My father was working on a temporary job on a TVA damn in Alabama when I was born. The family was there for just a few months.

My sisters were all born at home, but none of them had been present at the birth of any of the others. They had always stayed with my mother's mother when Mama was about due to deliver. But Mama's mother had died about seven months before this particular November night. So, everyone in the family was there in the small two-bedroom house the night I was born.

I grew up hearing the story of "the night you were born," from all different directions. It seemed to have been a big event in everyone's life. Well, the one person who never told the story was my father. He never mentioned it.

My oldest sister Mary was a bright kid who read a lot and wrote all the time. So I have my story in front of me right now. Written by my sister, who was nine and a half at the time of my birth. It's not a happy story. Below is part of what Mary wrote:

"When Mama started labor, my father sent me for the mid-wife. The directions he gave me were to a part of the tract I had never been to before. My heart was in my throat. I was afraid I would get lost. I knew my father would be very angry with me if I failed to find her house."

Later after Mary has alerted the mid-wife and is back home she writes, "Daddy told me to take Doris and Bonnie to the bedroom that Doris and I shared and not to come out until he gave us permission." (Doris would have been six years old, and Bonnie would have just turned two on the first of the month. Bonnie had been used to sleeping with Mama up until this very night.)

Mary continues, "It seemed like hours passed. Bonnie was only a baby herself and she kept asking for Mama. I let her play with my paper dolls, which were cut out of the Sears Roebuck catalogue, to keep her quiet. Finally, the door opened and we were allowed to see the new baby. Mama called our attention to how she already held up her head and turned it in the direction of the person speaking."

"We could all see that Axxx Nxxxx (my real name), as Daddy named her, was going to be a strong intelligent child. Besides, she had violet eyes, which I had never seen before."

The story goes downhill after that. Bonnie cried later because she was accustomed to sleeping with Mama at night, and Daddy wasn't going to allow that now that there was a new baby. Daddy whipped Bonnie to make her stop crying, which only made her sob harder. (That was a favorite trick of his.)

Mary writes that, "Bonnie desperately tried to stop crying. Her sobs came in jerks that drew her stomach up under her ribs. " Mary then describes the beating that Bonnie got from my father because she couldn't stop crying. Mary got up the nerve to save Bonnie by grabbing her and retreating into the girls' bedroom. Poor Mama was crying and begging Daddy to leave the kids alone. So Daddy did his other favorite thing: Slammed the door and left.

As I said before, I heard this story from day one. When I was six or so, I told Mary that I knew why Daddy got so mad the night I was born. It was because I had been another girl. He wanted a boy. Here I was: just another damned girl.

He got his revenge on me with the names he gave me. My true first name is ugly, and my true middle name is unusual. But that's not the kicker. It seems that the family left Alabama a couple of months after I was born because my father had been having an affair with one of his supervisors daughters, of which there were two. Yep. I got those two names. That Daddy. Such a rake.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Too lazy to think

I stole this from Christine (formerly 100 Reasons Why I Hate My Husband). I have no shame, and I have no ideas for a post. Besides, it's Sunday. No one reads or posts on Sunday, 'cept Hoss. Can't compete with the best, and Hoss is the best.

What were you doing 10 years ago?

Still working as an accountant and accounting systems analyst for the Commonwealth of PA. Pennsylvania is a commonwealth, not a state. Please don't ask me what the difference is.

What were you doing 1 year ago?

Just returned from a long trip to the western states. We hit Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, Seattle, Salem (didn't know Hoss then), Glacier National Park, Mt. Rushmore, you name it. Then we hosted the family for Thanksgiving.

5 snacks you enjoy:

1. Chocolate
2. Chocolate covered pretzels
3. Chocolate ice cream
4. Chocolate covered anything
5. Coffee, best with something chocolate to eat

5 songs to which you know all the lyrics:

1. Amazing Grace
2. Purple People Eater
3. The Star-Spangled Banner
4. White Christmas
5. Rock-a-bye Baby

5 things you would do if you were a millionare:

1. Give money to my kids
2. Give money to all kinds of causes and charities
3. Buy a vacation house at the shore (I think)
4. Travel
5. That's it. Millions don't go all that far.

5 bad habits:

1. Chocolate
2. Laziness
3. Cleaning other people's houses
4. Blogging
5. Not seeing other's points of view

5 things you like doing:

1. Eating. Especially chocolate
2. Reading
3. Blogging
4. Traveling
5. Being with my family

5 things you would never wear again:

1. Bell bottoms. Unless they come back into style.
2. Maternity clothes. (Yea! I'd rather be old than pregnant.)
3. Four-inch killer high heels
4. Hip huggers
5. Platform shoes

5 favorite toys:

1. Computer
2. Vacuum cleaner
3. Car radio
4. CD player
5. Obviously I don't have enough toys.

Let me know if you played.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Witness to BASIP

This is so much fun. I'm on the PC at AP3's. Daughter Aral is on her lap top in here, making her BASIP. If you ever read her blog, you know that on Saturday she does a Bizarre Album Saturday In Pezland post.

It's so much fun watching this develop. She's pretty darn smart at putting all this together. In fact she says that it's so much work, that she ought to get paid for it. That Aral. What's bizarre is that she didn't even pick the album until a couple of minutes ago. She's half asleep, and she just does this stuff on the spur of the moment. I'm impressed.

'Course, if any of these albums was worth actually hearing, they wouldn't be considered bizarre. But she buys them for the bizarre cover pictures.

Aral's spouse Me Wonder Woman Pez and I are rockin' to the music, such as it is, my husband Niks is reading the newspaper out loud to us, and Aral is working away on her post. The cats are meowing for attention, the dog is excited at all the activity, and there's a young man over in the living room who apparently slept there last night. I knew that granddaughter Aved had company when I went to bed. All the activity is exciting to me too.

Niks and I get to stay in a Pezland room here. Aral has nine musical instruments in that room. She has albums with "interesting" covers framed on the walls, plus many other odd and interesting things.

She has a pretty good Elvis collection goin'. Has a lamp with Elvis and his hips swing back and forth continually. There's a life size bust of Elvis too. Of course the shelves are full of books on music and sheet music. She's a musical girl.

Oh! Hats! This girl has hats! A lot of hats! And more shoes than straight women have. But the shoes are in the closet, unlike Aral. The hats are hanging in collections. Maybe 50 or 70 hats?

Me Wonder Woman also has a room for her toys. (This is a big old house with plenty of room.) MWW's extra room is pretty and meditative. Aral's is like a college dorm room.

Young people are energizing. I'm having a great time.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm having the very best of Thanksgivings. I'm sitting in my daughter's (ap3) livingroom (recently redone and beautiful), with a fire in the fireplace, it's snowing outside, and the young folks are doing all the cooking.

There's a Johnny Mathis CD playing Christmas songs, and the TV is showing the Macy's T-day parade with the sound muted.

I love this wireless laptop of ap3's. I may have to gift myself with one.

Amid all this love and loveliness, I am thinking of you and yours. You are real people to me. Not just obscure identities on the 'net. May you have your best Thanksgiving today. If you do not celebrate this holiday, I hope that whatever you are doing, you are at peace and in good health.

Love to all.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Over the hills and through the woods

Over the hills and through the woods to AP3's house we go. Husband Niks and I are off to spend a week in MA with our daughter and her spouse and step-daughter. It's gonna be fun. We always have fun there. They have two cats and a dog. Plus they're all nice folks. Fun folks. We get to laugh a lot. It's a big house, so everybody can have all the space they want.

I will comment on a blog here and there, but I doubt that I will post. So I'll leave you with this Thanksgiving Notice that I received from my friend Sally:
For those of you who are coming to our place for Thanksgiving dinner- Martha Stewart ain't gonna be here! I'm telling you in advance, so don't act all surprised. Since Ms. Stewart won't be coming, I've made a few small changes: Our sidewalk will not be lined with homemade, paper bag luminaries. After a trial run, it was decided that no matter how cleverly done, rows of flaming lunch sacks do not have the desired welcoming effect. That Sally.

Once inside, our guests will note that the entry hall is not decorated with the swags of Indian corn and fall foliage I had planned to make. Instead, I've gotten the kids involved in the decorating by having them track in colorful autumn leaves from the front yard. The mud was their idea. Those kids. The dining table will not be covered with expensive linens, fancy china, or crystal goblets. If possible, we will use dishes that match and everyone will get a fork. Since this IS Thanksgiving, we will refrain from using the plastic Peter Rabbit plate and the Santa napkins from last Christmas. (I've seen that Peter Rabbit plate. Not a collector's version.)

Our centerpiece will not be the tower of fresh fruit and flowers that I promised. Instead we will be displaying a hedgehog-like decoration hand-crafted from the finest construction paper. The artist assures me it is a turkey. Probably little Tommy. We will be dining fashionably late. The children will entertain you while you wait. I'm sure they will be happy to share every choice comment I have made regarding Thanksgiving, pilgrims and the turkey hot line. Please remember that most of these comments were made at 5:00 A. M. upon discovering that the turkey was still hard enough to cut diamonds. Sally's not the happy cooker. (Closer to a happy hooker back in the day).

As accompaniment to the children's recital, I will play a recording of tribal drumming. If the children should mention that I don't own a recording of tribal drumming, or that tribal drumming sounds suspiciously like a frozen turkey in a clothes dryer, ignore them. They are lying. Those guys! We toyed with the idea of ringing a dainty silver bell to announce the start of our feast. In the end, we chose to keep our traditional method. We've also decided against a formal seating arrangement. When the smoke alarm sounds, please gather around the table and sit where you like. In the spirit of harmony, we will ask the children to sit at a separate table. In a separate room. (Next door most likely).

Now, I know you have all seen pictures of one person carving a turkey in front of a crowd of appreciative onlookers. This will not be happening at our dinner. For safety reasons, the turkey will be carved in a private ceremony. I stress "private" meaning: Do not, under any circumstances enter the kitchen to laugh at me. Do not send small, unsuspecting children to check on my progress. I have an electric knife. The turkey is unarmed. It stands to reason that I will eventually win. When I do, we will eat.

I would like to take this opportunity to remind my young diners that "passing the rolls" is not a football play. Nor is it a request to bean your sister in the head with warm tasty bread. Oh, and one reminder for the adults: For the duration of the meal, and especially while in the presence of young diners, we will refer to the giblet gravy by its lesser-known name: Cheese Sauce. If a young diner questions you regarding the origins or type of Cheese Sauce, plead ignorance. Cheese Sauce reigns. Cheese sauce stains too.

Before I forget, there is one last change. Instead of offering a choice between 12 different scrumptious desserts, we will be serving the traditional pumpkin pie, garnished with whipped cream and small fingerprints. You will still have a choice; take it or leave it. Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this year. She probably won't come next year either. I am thankful.

That Sally. More honest than most.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Mens' Room

Nothing to post about, but thought you might like to see what's new in mens' rooms.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Housework or not

Friday Radio Question of the Day: On a scale of one to ten, 21 percent of people give themselves a 9, for this. What is it?

My husband Niks teased and shamed me into skipping a day of blogging on Friday. I have to admit that I sneaked in a little blog stuff in the evening. I didn't post, but I left a few comments. Not that many. So it's okay. Right?

We all play our little tricks on our roommates I think. Niks does it himself, only he would never admit it. I always cook all of our meals. I always clean up after them too. I gave up on getting any help on that long ago. But once in a while I'll have a meeting or something that I have to do and he'll say that he'll clean up after supper while I'm out.

Then he always sits down and watches TV instead of cleaning up. When he hears the garage door opening on my return, he jumps up and starts loading the dishwasher. The automatic garage opener we have now is so quiet, and his hearing is so bad, that these days he doesn't jump up until I walk inside. That guy. He's a complete time slob. Always tries to act as if he's been busy while I'm out.

His idea of helping with the housework is to lift his feet up so that I can run the vacuum under them. But he's usually not devious.

Now, me, I'm devious. I cover up my goofing off. If I've been on the computer all morning and he's downstairs thinking I'm doing housework upstairs, I'm perfectly capable of quickly scattering some stuff around that will make it look as if I've been doing something more productive than blogging.

Before the computer took so much of my time I had other time-wasters of course. Mostly just reading. Once when I was a stay-at-home mom and had wasted the day, I realized I should do something to make it look as if I had a good reason to be "too tired to cook." I put up the ironing board, drug about 40 little dresses out of the girls' closets and hung them around the room, making it look as if I had been ironing all day. It worked.

One good hint I could give you folks is to start a big job really close to the time your partner will be returning home. That way, you'll still be doing it when he or she gets home. You'll get more credit for the chore that way. Plus, it's possible he or she will pitch in and help. This works better if you have covered the kitchen table with the mess you're making with this chore. You can generally get a restaurant meal out of that.

Any time the spouse is away, stay away from chores that s/he has been nagging you to do. Anything that a spouse has been nagging at you to get done should be done when the spouse is home to see you doing it. Sigh a lot. Bonus points.

Of course, I offer these tips in hopes of helping you have a more harmonious relationship. Would I lie?

Answer to the radio question of the day: Keeping the house clean. Try calling in sick on that one.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Taxpayers 1, Legislators ZIP

We won! We called, we wrote letters, some of us, like dddragon, went down to the Capitol Building and protested, and son of a gun, we got them to repeal the big raise they gave themselves.

Of course, they are still the fourth highest paid jerks in the lawmaking world, but we did knock'em down two pegs.

I give big credit to the Harrisburg Patriot News for this. The paper in Philadelphia didn't do diddley squat to help.

 Posted by Picasa


These are some real headlines that appeared in newspapers. Pretty amazing.

Crack Found on Governor's Daughter.
Imagine that!

Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Expert Says.
No! Really?

Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers.
Those cops! Harsh!

Is There a Ring of Debris around Uranus?
Not touchin' that.

Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over.
That vet! What a guy.

Miners Refuse to Work after Death.
Huh! Some lazy so-and-so's.

Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant.
Ouch. Might work better than a fair trial. Or not.

War Dims Hope for Peace.
I can see where it might have that effect.

If Strike Isn't Settled Quickly, It May Last Awhile.

Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures. Amazing.

Enfield (London) Couple Slain; Police Suspect Homicide.
Those cops. Smart.

Red Tape Holds Up New Bridges!
Apparently there is something stronger than duct tape.

Man Struck By Lightning: Faces Battery Charge.
You think maybe he is a battery charge now?

New Study of Obesity Looks for Larger Test Group.
Those fatties. Not fat enough I guess.

Astronaut Takes Blame for Gas in Spacecraft.
Don't let him eat any more beans.

Kids Make Nutritious Snacks.
Taste like chicken?

Local High School Dropouts Cut in Half.
Chainsaw Massacre I guess.

Hospitals are Sued by 7 Foot Doctors.
Hoo Boy! Tall guys.

Typhoon Rips Through Cemetery; Hundreds Dead.
You can kill'em twice?

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

This is where I came in.

When I was a kid movies were always double features plus cartoons.

Does the term, double feature even mean anything to you? When did they stop showing double features I wonder? We would actually sit through some movie like Strangers on a Train and then a couple of cartoons like Tom and Jerry or the Road Runner (my personal favorite) and then sit through another movie, say, Roy Rogers in Pals of the Golden West.
Incidentally, Trigger, Roy's Horse got higher billing than Roy's wife Dale Evans in that one. That Roy. Seemed to like his horse better'n his wife.

You could enter the movie at any point. They didn't clear out the theater between showings. Didn't bring up the lights, just kept looping the films over and over. Often folks came in during the middle of a show. They watched whatever was left of the movie, then whatever came next and so on. Then the first show, the one that was playing when they entered, came on again and they would watch that until they got to the point where they had entered. Then they would get up and leave, saying, "This is where I came in."

But people use the expression "This is where I came in," now. Do they know how it started?

We speak of "dial tone." But no one actually has a phone with dials on it anymore. We dial up someone. Only we actually push buttons. Do kids understand that word?

People refer to "A catch 22," but do they know what that was originally? Catch-22 originated from a 1961 novel by Joseph Heller, where one bureaucratic regulation is dependent on another, which in turn is dependent on the first. I say things like, "you can't get there from here." I don't know where that came from.

Even kids say that they are going to "hit the hay." They probably don't know that mattresses used to be stuffed with hay or straw, so that's how "hit the hay" came to mean "go to bed."

Did you know that the term "deadline" originated in the American Civil War, where a prisoner would be shot if they crossed a line around the prison or prison camp? I didn't. Seems harsh. I didn't realize that the term "brownie points" came from Girl Scouts either! Brownie G.S. had a point system that gave girls points for achievement. The term was first used in World War II when soldiers acted silly or kid-like.

I did guess that "Close but no cigar" came from the fact that old carnivals gave out cigars as prizes. 'Course now it just means to come close to achieving your goal, but failing. People don't think of carnival prizes when they use that phrase.

Sometimes families have there own sayings. When I was a kid and I said in front of my mother, "I had somethin' to say, but I forgot it." My Mama would say, "Well, I guess it wasn't very important then." I guess her theory was that you wouldn't forget something like the house was on fire. I would say that to my kids too after I grew up.

One evening over thirty years ago at the dinner table, daughter dddragon said that she had forgotten what she was going to say, and I repeated my mother's line. Immediately 3D said, "Oh! Now I remember! I'm radioactive!" That became a family tradition.

Does your family have some private idiomatic expressions? Feel like sharing them?

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Wit, Wisdom, Wisecracks

Some blogs have wit. Pretty many have wisecracks. A few have wisdom.

Wit is a rare and brilliant form of humor. It's sharp and precise and pitiless. Wisecracks and one-liners are seductive, but lesser forms of wit in my opinion. It's hard to be a wit. It's easier to crack wise.

Witticisms are remembered and quoted. Wisecracks are soon forgotten. I'm pretty much a wisecracker myself. Some of my favorite humorists are both wits and wisecrackers. Like Oscar Wilde.

When Oscar said, "I must decline your invitation owing to a subsequent invitation," he was wisecracking. But when he said that a murderer was "One presumed to be innocent until declared insane," he was using wit. Satire is almost always wit. I love satire. When he said, "Never buy anything simply because it is expensive," I not sure which he was using. But I'd say it was just a wisecrack. That Oscar.

I think these are wisecracks:

· Never slap a man in the face if he's chewing tobacco. (Abe Martin)
· Men aren't attracted to me by my mind, but what I don't mind. (Gypsy Rose Lee)
· I can't remember your name, but don't tell me. (A. Woollcott)
· Always look a gift horse in the mouth.
· I put instant coffee in a microwave and almost went back in time. (Steven Wright)
· If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly. (G. K. Chesterton I think, but Gypsy Rose Lee does better with this one.)
· If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing slowly…very slowly. (GRL)

But what are these?

· Her face was her chaperone. (Rupert Hughes)
· No man is lonely while eating spaghetti; it takes too much attention. (Chris Morley)
· I'm not afraid of death. I just don't want to be there when it happens. (Woody Allen)

I consider these puns:

· Occasionally he takes an alcoholic day. (Oscar Wilde)
· My grandmother is over eighty and still doesn't need glasses. Drinks right out of the bottle. (Henny Youngman)
· I stayed up all night to see where the sun went. It finally dawned on me. (Dunno who)
· Beauty is only sin deep. (H.H. Munro)
· I tried to snort coke once, but I got an ice cube stuck up my nose.
· Artificial insemination: Copulation without representation. (Playboy)

I think these are wit:

· You can get more with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone. (Al Capone)
· She got her good looks from her father. He's a plastic surgeon. (Groucho Marx)
· I am in the prime of senility. (Benjamin Franklin)
· Familiarity breeds contempt – and children. (Mark Twain)
· Children today are tyrants. They contradict their parents, gobble their food, and tyrannize their teachers. (Socrates. Oh, yes. Socrates! Didn't guess that, didcha?)
· Somewhere on this globe, every ten seconds, there is a woman giving birth to a child. She must be found and stopped. (Sam Levenson)
· I don't believe in an afterlife, although I am bringing a change of underwear. (Woody Allen)
· Better a witty fool than a foolish wit. (Shakespeare)
· Adam was the only man who, when he said a good thing, knew that nobody had said it before him. (Mark Twain)

No Ambrose Bierce ? Ambrose belongs to Doug. He's good with him.

Of course there are malapropisms. Samuel Goldwyn was good at those. He said things like:
· I don't pay any attention to him. I don't even ignore him.
· What do you mean the story is too caustic? Who cares about expense?
And Yogi Berra was a pro with, "When you come to a fork in the road, take it." And "You can observe a lot just by watching." That Yogi.

But what about Funny? Funny is different to each of us. Some of these are funny to some of us:

· My mother buried three husbands, and two of them were just napping.
(Rita Rudner)
· I don't intend for this to take on a political tone. I'm just here for the drugs.
(Nancy Reagan, former First Lady. Oh, yes she did! Check it out.)
· USA Today has come out with a new survey: Apparently three out of four people make up 75 percent of the population. (David Letterman)
· Once you can accept the universe as matter expanding into nothing that is something, wearing stripes with plaid comes easy. (Albert Einstein)
· If you lived in your car, you'd be home by now. (Bumper sticker)
· There will always be death and taxes; however, death doesn't get worse every year.

This is way too long. And I didn't put in anything wise. So here's just one that I think is wise:

· If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call to make, whom would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?
- Stephen Levine

Well? Why are you?

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Don't be thumbin' no rides. Ya hear?

It's my favorite hitchhikers birthday. That's Doug of Waking Ambrose. He's smart and he used to hitchhike a lot it seems. I have no experience with hitchhiking or being smart, so I'm just gonna leave you with a hitchhiking joke that I picked up on The Prairie Home Companion. Garrison called it The Minnesota ghost. You hafta imagine Garrison Keillor's voice here, on accounta I don't have some voice thingie.

This out of state traveler was on the side of the road, hitchhiking on a real dark night in the middle of a thunderstorm. Time passed slowly and no cars went by. It was raining so hard he could hardly see his hand in front of his face.

Suddenly he saw a car moving slowly, approaching and appearing ghostlike in the rain. It slowly and silently crept toward him and stopped. Wanting a ride real bad the guy jumped in the car and closed the door; only then did he realize that there was nobody behind the wheel, and no sound of an engine to be heard over the rain.

Again the car crept slowly forward and the guy was terrified, too scared to think of jumping out and running. The guy saw that the car was approaching a sharp curve and, still too scared to jump out, he started to pray and began begging for his life; he was sure the ghost car would go off the road and into a nearby lake and he would surely drown!

But just before the curve a shadowy figure appeared at the driver's window and a hand reached in and turned the steering wheel, guiding the car safely around the bend. Then, just as silently, the hand disappeared through the window and the hitchhiker was alone again!

Paralyzed with fear, the guy watched the hand reappear every time they reached a curve. Finally the guy, scared to near death, had all he could take and jumped out of the car and ran and ran, into town.

Wet and in shock, he went into a bar and, voice quavering, ordered two shots of whiskey, then told everybody about his supernatural experience.

A silence enveloped the place and everybody got goose bumps when they realized the guy had to be telling the truth (and was not just some drunk).

About half an hour later two guys walked into the bar and one says to the other, "Look Ole, ders dat idiot dat rode in our car when we wuz pushin it in the rain."

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Friday, November 11, 2005

I'm bored. Might as well bore you.

Radio question of the day: According to an old Kentucky law, it was illegal for a woman to do this four times. What was it?

I know I'm bored because my matchstick model of the Eiffel Tower is approaching life size. So I started thinking about life. There are not many universal truths in life, but I think that one is no matter how hard you try, you can't run away from your knees. Another is if you rummage in an overgrown garden long enough you will always turn up an old ball. Why is that? And have you noticed? No matter what part of the world they're from, all babies cry in English.

Watching a little TV made me think about what those advertising terms really mean. I think maybe NEW means it's a different color from the old design. ALL NEW means that the parts are not interchangeable with the previous model.

EXCLUSIVE just means it's imported. UNRIVALLED is almost as good as the competition. YEARS OF DEVELOPMENT – They finally got one to work. MAINTENANCE FREE –it's impossible to fix. MEETS ALL STANDARDS – their standards, not yours. DIRECT SALES ONLY – Nobody wants to distribute it.

Normally I'm not easily bored by anything else other than television. Bad news is that my husband Niks always has either the television or the radio on. We have a big house, but he's hard-of-hearing so I get to hear a lot of news in spite of being able to go to a different room to avoid that. Good news is that before he gets up, like right now, the silence is wonderful. You know the old saying, When a bore leaves the room, you feel as if someone fascinating just came in. No! I'm not sayin' Niks bores me. You guys. I'm saying the news bores me. So when it's silent around here, I'm entertained by it. It's a meaningful silence.

Niks is not a bore. A bore is someone who has the power of speech, but not the ability to converse. Niks is good at intellectual conversation. Now, if I had intellect, we'd be in business. Anyway the real secret to being a bore is to tell everything. Niks doesn't do that. He waits until I find something out, and then he says, "I told you that! Don't you remember?" Gosh, no honey. You told me there's a dead elephant out in the middle of the street in front of our house? Huh! You'd think I'd remember something like that.

Ambrose Bierce (see Doug's Waking Ambrose for a good time) said that a bore is a person who talks when you want him to listen. Niks doesn't do that either. He doesn't listen but he doesn't talk either.

But Niks has brains. He's like Woody Allen in that his brain is his second-favorite organ. He doesn't have any muscle, but he has brains. When brains are needed, muscles won't help. I can hire muscle.

Well, I'm boring myself here. I guess you left after the first sentence or two. Some friend you are.

Answer to radio question of the day: It was illegal for a woman to marry the same man four times. Apparently, the man didn't break the law. Those hillbillies.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Cow tipping

Radio question of the day: Red haired ladies have a special physical ability that most people don’t?

Some of you got really caught up in cow tipping yesterday. I had no idea it was such a popular sport. You guys!

There is actually a cow-tipping site! Manchego told me about it. Some people. There's just a couple, maybe three, people out in the world who have too much time on their hands. NO, no! I'm not talkin' about Manchego! I'm talkin' about whoever makes a site-for-everything-there-is-in-the-world-and-beyond. It's pretty amazing what you can find on the web. I love it.

Happy Birthday to my SIL Ekim, husband of daughter Acton Bell. He's really a peach, not a cow. Couldn't find a birthday peach. Okay, okay. I lied. I didn't even look for one. I shouldn't have even said that, 'cause I know that the less you say, the less you have to retract. I'm all about havin' to retract stuff I say. We all know that the secret of success is sincerity. I'm workin' on faking that. Then I'll have it made.

Answer to radio question: A higher tolerance of pain. Wonder if that includes dye-jobs? Like Lucille Ball.

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Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Too much real life

Radio question of the day: About 60 percent of women hate it when a man does this at night?

My real life has been seriously interfering with my blogging life. Been busy this week and it's only half-over. Letting this happen to me is about as silly as owing money to somebody named Big Daddy. Shouldn't happen.

It's like picking up a penny because it's lucky. I mean how lucky is finding a dirty, germ-infested, just-about-worthless piece of metal on a street with cars coming at you at 60 miles-per-hour?

It's like loving your enemies. I don't know who came up with this silly idea, but I know I hate him, whoever he is. That guy.

It's like obsessing about low self-esteem. I mean you probably already think you're smarter and cuter than you really are. So what's the problem?

It's like tipping a cow. Okay, this is fun, but it serves no socially redeeming purpose. Tip an outhouse instead. This is really funny and serves many socially redeeming functions.

It's like living in a parallel universe. I would stick with this one, but that's just me.

Gonna run. I'm late to two places already.

Answer to radio question of the day: Steals the bed sheets. You guys. Stop that.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Peek at our Peak

Radio question of the day: You can change this 293 ways, but it would still be essentially the same thing.

You should see the beautiful autumn we are having in Pennsylvania. It's always beautiful, but this year it's not just that the trees are beautiful, the weather is also beautiful.

Yesterday my husband Niks and I drove out to Hershey and beyond to Annville, just to see the leaves. Well, and to eat. Niks doesn't go far without eating. That guy.

On my morning walk in the park today I realized that we are at our peak as they say about the leaves in this part of the world. The leaves have changed to red and gold and orange, but they are still mostly on the trees. The grass is still a bright green. Add in the evergreen trees that abound here, and you have a lovely scene.

I just noticed Ginkgo trees this year. They are the closest thing in appearance that we have to quaking aspen trees. Quaking aspens grow only in the west I think, and always in groups. They have wonderful white bark and round leaves the size of fifty-cent pieces (if you can remember those). In the fall the quaking aspens' leaves turn a brilliant yellow and shimmer like gold in the breeze. The amazing thing about them is that what appears to be a grove of 40 or 50 trees is actually one organism. One of the largest organisms in the world is an 80-acre quaking aspen grove in British Columbia. A grove of quaking aspens trees is one plant whose many trunks are connected by a unified system of roots. That's how they multiply.

Ginkgo trees don't multiply that way. There are male and female ginkgo trees. I'm sorry to report that the female ginkgo is a bit high-maintenance. It produces a fruit that has an awful odor. I know that some of you are rolling your eyes and thinking "just like a woman." You guys. Don't go there. You were once a smelly little fruit yourself. Some of you still are.

Answer to the question of the day: There are 293 ways to make change for a dollar.

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Sunday, November 06, 2005

More stupid stuff I stole from somewhere or other

Your computer life:
· Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity.
· Hardware: the parts of a computer system that can be kicked.
· Software: the parts of a computer system that don't work.
· Hard disk: the part of a computer system that freezes up at the worst possible time.
· Peripherals: the parts that are incompatible with your PC system.
· Printer: the part of the computer system that jams when you're not looking.
· Cable: the part of the computer system that is too short.
· Mouse: see cursing.
· Backup: an operation that is never performed on time.
· Restore: a procedure that works perfectly until needed.
· Memory: the part of a computer system that is insufficient.
· Error message: a request to OK the destruction of your own data.
· File: the part of the computer system that cannot be located.
· Processor: the part of a computer system that is obsolete.
· Manual: the element of your computer system that is incomprehensible.
· Typos are not noticed until after the "send" key has been hit.

The rest of your life:

· No matter how much you do, you'll never do enough.
· What you don't do is always more important than what you do do.
· Nothing is impossible for the one who doesn't have to do it himself.
· If you keep anything long enough, you can throw it away.
· If you throw anything away, you will need it as soon as the trash is collected.
· If you file it, you will know where it is, but you will never need it.
· If you don't file it, you'll need it, but you will never know where it is.
· The quickest way to find something is to be looking for something else.
· There's no time like the present for postponing what you don't want to do.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Stolen property

Radio question of the day: French fries are the most popular meal to this group of people?

All of this is stolen from someplace or other. Like I care.

· "Criminal lawyer" is a redundancy.
· "Did you miss me, dear?" "With every bullet so far." (Peg and Al Bundy)
· "Did you sleep good?" "No, I made a few mistakes." (Steven Wright)
· "Mister Worf, fire phasers at will!" *ZAP* "Hey, where did Riker go?"
· "More hay, Trigger?" "No thanks, Roy, I'm stuffed."
· "Mr. Johnson, you smell!" "No madam, you smell, I stink." (Sam Johnson)
· "Politically correct" is an oxymoron; nothing political is correct.
· "Supernatural" is a null word.
· "Very funny, Scotty. Now beam down my clothes."
· ...some people without brains do an awful lot of talking. (Wizard of Oz)
· ...the purpose of diplomacy is to prolong the crisis. (Spock, "Star Trek")
· 1 Tidal Wave = 47.92 Microwaves
· 186,000 miles per second: it's not just a good idea, it's the law.
· 2 + 2 = 5, for extremely large values of two.
· 3 1/2" hard is better than 5 1/4" floppy.
· A baby usually wakes up in the wee-wee hours of the morning.
· A bartender is just a pharmacist with a limited inventory.
· A bird in the hand can be messy.
· A bleeding heart can be hell on the carpeting.
· A bug can be changed to a feature by documenting it.
· A bureaucrat is a politician with tenure.
· A computer's feces are indistinguishable from the food it produces.
· A conclusion is simply the place where you got tired of thinking.
· A crisis is when you can't say "Let's forget the whole thing."
· A day without sunshine is like, well, night.
· A friend in need is a pest indeed.
· A good place to start from is where you are.
· A hair in the head is worth two in the brush.
· A hangover is the wrath of grapes.
· A heart will never be practical until it can be unbreakable. (Wizard of Oz)
· A hen is only an egg's way of making another egg.
· A house divided is a duplex.
· A lie in time saves nine.
· A man's best friend is his dogma.
· A man's house is his hassle.
· A meeting is an event at which the minutes are kept and the hours are lost.

Answer to the question of the day: Death Row inmates.

Also small people in play pens. Wonder if there is a connection?