Friday, June 06, 2014

Sunrise, Sunset, Impending Doom

Shea's birthday was yesterday.  12.  I have kept a human alive for 12 years.  I was thinking a little harder on this at 5:00 AM. (SLEEP??)  It dawned on me that we will likely face his puberty and my Peri-menopause at the same time.

God have mercy on my husband's soul.

Wednesday, June 04, 2014


Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Mind like a sink hole

I am forever making notes of things that catch my eye in these little notebooks that I have.  Currently, I have three notebooks floating around in the big old bag I carry (IT'S NOT A PURSE!!).  These notebooks slowly fill with doodles, random facts and thoughts, and the myriad bits and pieces that cross my mental path as I wander about the planet.  There is no rhyme or reason to what is in where.  I just stumble across something and jot it down. 

I couple of weeks ago I was thumbing through some old tattered pages and stumbled across this:
No idea what the hell that was.  Posted it on Facebook and someone pointed out that it might be for a brand of bladder control underwear.  WHAT?  Again, no idea.

So today I was going through the books again and found two loose sheets of notes.  They appear to be ideas on things to write.  I am now kicking myself.  I cannot, for my life, remember what went with the titles. 
  • Stabby the Fish Still Likes You
  • The End of the Rainbow is Over That Cliff
  • I'd Visit But It's Too Damn Far
  • Band Aids and Bullet Holes
  • Girls With Squirrely Hands
  • Bumper to Bumper - Aging Out of Warranty
  • I Want to Lick Your Quirks and Foibles
  • Red Light, Green Light, Poo
  • The Acronym That Ate me

Monday, May 19, 2014

Does my finger smell?

Just read an article titled “The 5 Worst Places to Stick Your Fingers” and Paris Hilton wasn’t mentioned once!   
Your submission for worst place to stick you finger? 

It's what on the inside that really matt....Oh wait.  Nevermind.

Friday, May 16, 2014

Today is Sea Monkey Day!

Aren't you happy?  For $1.25 plus postage and handling (back in the day) you could have this:

This is FANTASTIC!! 
How could anything be better than this?  So you begged and borrowed and suffered the jaded opinions of your parents until you had enough money to get these cute (but slightly) creepy little buggers in your house.  With unbearable anticipation you awaited their arrival.
And then they came.  
Well, the kit to start your menagerie came.
After your initial disappointment you re-filled your heart with hope and dumped the powdered peoples into their tiny plastic pool and waited.  
And waited.
And waited.
And, eventually you were rewarded with this:

Of course, I'm only guessing.  My Sea Monkeys looked like this:
It had a FANTASTIC smell!!!

Does anybody mind if I take time on Sea Monkey day to be bitter?

Friday, May 09, 2014

It's not a pinch!

It's a teeny tiny, localized, concentrated hug.

Shea is not convinced.

Thursday, January 09, 2014

9 Years

Apparently I started this blog 9 years ago.
This surprises me greatly.
In honor of this impending moment I shall steal and post the work of someone else. 

Perhaps I should do something more about that whole anniversary thing.

Sunday, September 08, 2013

It's all downhill from here cause this thing won't let me make an entry. Dammit.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

It would appear...

...that I can't tell if I'm coming or going.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Uh...I didn't know you were still here

Well, I'll be hornswaggled. I really didn't think this blog was still around. And I am doubly impressed that I was able to access it. I only tried because a fellow cast member gave me a public nudge.
What to say? I suppose an update on my current status would be appropriate.
I won the lottery and have been living the life for the past few years. Yup. That's me. Big life. Big cars. No more worries.
Or do you prefer..
Unemployed again. Divorced. Little life. Little car. But the spawn continues to get bigger.

Chose whichever floats your boat. I'll take a little from column A and B if you don't mind.

Monday, March 26, 2007

Dear Sera,

And so I spent the weekend in Bisbee, AZ. And I spent a lot of time thinking of you.And I spent a lot of time realizing how much I miss you.

You see, Bisbee is at its heart, a small communal town. It is filled with new and aged hippies, motorcycle gangs, and a small population of wealthy summer homes.
You can go down the road a few miles and slip a toe into Mexico.You can walk up to a party on the street and be offered free beer, or wine, or pot.You can walk into a grungy little store front and find Roger and his Hippie's Bizarre Bazar. The few shelves are covered in cheap geegaws from Peru and three hour incense. According to the picture on the wall, Roger's not only the owner, but the employee of the month...easy enough when you're the only employee, I guess.

But what I can do is look down into mineral stained maw of the abandoned strip mines and see the colors of thrown pots.I can look at the old shattered walls with graffiti covered attempts at wisdom and remember doodles in a notepad.I can catch a scent coming through the trees behind the tiny grocers and think of incense and laughter as I swirled a golden pattern across her face with all the wrong make-up...but she still managed to be breathetaking despite my crude artistry.

I imagined you living in one of the small cottages that cling to the side of the mountain like barnacles. I imagined you calling me some quiet day and looking out your window about 2 hours later to see me clambering up a thousand steps to knock on your door.We'd sit and laugh and drink local wine while we caught up with all we had done, and all we had managed to never complete.We'd reassure each other that we were a long way from any sort of end. That there was still time to decide what we'd be when we grew up.We'd wander out the door to slip and stumble up the mountain, through the backyards of unsuspecting neighbors (who'd not mind our intrusion anyway) to walk just a little further than we should. We'd pick at random plants and wonder at thier names or possible uses, only to slowly shred them as we continued our trek to no place in particular.Tired and glad the return trip was downhill, we'd make our way to some small shop to collect a random sampling of herb scented munchies and another bottle of wine...or two.

I wanted to spend the day with you. To talk without feeling self-conscious. I wanted to ride the currents of a silent lightening strike of creativity. To laugh at things that normally seem silly...maybe even stupid. I wanted someone to share secrets with. To speak of girlish crushes with the a voice that swung between simple sighs, frustrated groans, and the silly squeals of toe curling libidinous thoughts.I missed the excitement of grabbing onto the next big idea and playing it out until it broke or bored us. To throw it all on the table like a cheap deck of cards and play at divining a future.

Have you ever had an ache that ran so deep it left you wanting to weep and run wild and shout with joy all at the same time?

That's how much I missed you, Sera.

...Yeesh. You've made me all mushy now.

How I Spent My Weekend

Not the clearest picture...but proof that I didn't spend my weekend helping orphans.

Friday, March 16, 2007

She dared me...and offered sugar!

For these blazing pieces of creative brilliance, and for posting them, Priscilla bought me a chocolate milkshake.
Yup. I'm a cheap whore.

Haiku version:
The moontide flows now.
Wings flutter between my thighs.
Absorbancy rules!

Dr. Seuss version:
I will not use a tampon now.
I will not use a pad, no how!

You cannot make me.
You can't complain.
From feeling fresh, I shall refrain!

I am a full grown woman see.
I shave my legs. I sit to pee.

So if, to me, you take offence
You go to hell!
I'm hormonal dammit, and way too tense!

I will start posting again. I promise.
Life is a little on the weird side right now and I'm getting my perspective adjusted.

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Goodby Mark

Max Ehrmann


Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantmentit is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.

Friday, December 29, 2006

Truth in advertising

Saturday, December 16, 2006

And then she started drinking Jaeger....

Yup. Just a tiny bit toasty. But it's been an ugly couple of weeks. This entry is likely to be pure stream of conciousness - typos and all. So if you stop by here for a polished version of my wit, you'll likely be disappointed.
Heck, this thing'll likely be deleted shortly after its posted.
So yeah...
First stressor - Lost my job this week. I can no longer mooch of off the corporate monster that is AOL. Mind you, I hated the job. But as such things go it was easy, paid well, and they had hours I could live with. And add to that the fact that I am now UNEMPLOYED!!! This is not a condition I can easily enjoy. Not because I have some sort of A type personality (although if it's something I enjoy I have my moments), but because I fear poverty.
Following that is my first job interview - Yup. I must play that game once again. Keep in mind that I am a TERRIBLE interview. The job was actually perfect for me. An copywriter/production assistant. I can wrote rings around just about anyone I know. The more restrictions you put on the product the better I am. From an assistant stand point I know all this stuff. I am aware of all aspects of the production process...Love it in fact. I keep a cool head and manage to keep others cool around me. This sounds like a job that I'd not only enjoy, but desire. It would be a thrill to look forward to going to work.
Soooo....I manage to get myself LOST on the way to the interview. Yup. Call the guy for directions - he thinks I'm panicking. In fact I'm holding myself together pretty well considering that he's giving me directions that apply to someone comeing from the EXACT opposite direction I'm coming from. I do my TERRIBLE interview and go home to consider the Japanese concept of honor in suicide...
But wait! I can't consider how miserably it went, I have to have a knock out, drag down fight with Alvin!!!
Yeah. We don't go there often. I hate drama. I hate bitching about it to others,...but for us this was one for the record books. And, as always, Alvin's timing is perfect for such things. I had made a mistake. I will openly admit it. I undercut him in dealing with the spawn..but he went to far. Or more appropriately he refused to go anywhere. A common problem for us - I want to clear the air, he hides. This leads to most of our explosions. Last one I broke a kitchen window. This one I cornered him, smacked his shoulders a few times (if you've ever seen alvin you know how ridiculous that is - like smacking a brick wall) and refused to let him leave until he coughed up some sort of response to my anger.
Fun time.
Add to that, the mother-in-law had her spinal surgery. This surgery involved fusing the bottom vertabrea of her spine. Poor woman is pretty much crippled. Under normal circumstances playing babysitter to her wouldn't be an issue but I've been so stressed lately, it's been so long since I've had anything that even resembled a day off, that it only adds to my stress to show up at her house at 6 am. I'm torn between a screaming desire to curl up in a little ball and sleep for 6 days and a genuine wish to repay, just a little, all of the good this woman has done in my life.

And so there you have it. Those are the highlights. Throw in a generous helping of holiday stress and you run of the mill daily mini crapfests and you have my current state of mind.
Alvin talked to some of his buddies the next day and shows up bearing roses. Alvin has never brought me flowers. Never. NEVER. So that gives you an idea how nasty that one was.
The weekend is here so I'm faking like I'm taking a day off.
And my birthday is tomorrow. I'm getting older and it doesn't feel like it's getting any better.

And there ya go. My bitch fest.
Was it good for you?

Saturday, October 07, 2006

On the Menu

So the husband has been working bitch hours lately. He's a night person and they've had him rolling in at 4 am...6 am...4 am....

This morning, at 6 am, the alarm goes off and I hear a groan from the lump beside me.

"Time to wake up," says me.


"Come on. Maybe it'll be a good day." (It's hard to be optimistic at 6am)

Groan, "Not a chance."

"Well, if it gets too bad you can always put a booger in the food."

At this point I expected an 'Ew' or a denial of some sort. Instead I get, "Yeah."

And he rolls out of bed to get dressed.

I think I'll be eating in for a while.
And doing all the cooking.

Friday, October 06, 2006


Thursday, October 05, 2006

Blame Priscilla

Body: 1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (middle name and current street name)

Maren Water

2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandfather/grandmother on your dad's side, your favorite candybar)

Theo Mounds

3. YOUR "FLY GIRL/GUY" NAME: (first initial of first name, first two or three letters of your last name)


4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)

Yellow Platypus

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)

Maren Eglin

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (first 3 letters of your last name, last 3 letters of mother's maiden name, first 3 letters of your pet's name)

Speney Fat

7. JEDI NAME: (middle name spelled backwards, your mom's maiden name spelled backward)

Neram Yentruoc

8. EXOTIC DANCER NAME: (first pet, street you grew up on)

Bubbles Oakdale

9. SUPERHERO NAME: ("The", your favorite color, the car your mom/dad are driving)

The Yellow Saturn

10. Foreign exchange student name. (your favorite spice, last foriegn place you went.)

Salt Canada

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

I'll admit it. I do the occasional online quiz.
Here's my contribution to the ever expanding world of personal discovery and public revelations:

1. If stranded at sea who would you push out of the lifeboat first:
a. Your mother
b. A sibling
c. A signifigant other
d. Carl Sagan

2. Which playing card best represents your personality?

3. When searching for a home do you look for:
a. Good local
b. Low price
c. Human remains

4. If you were to spontaneously combust, what would be the last words you say?

5. When searching for a romantic partner do you prefer that he/she have:
a. Intelligence
b. Humor
c. Financial stability
d. Front teeth

6. Would you give Bill Gates a blow job?

7. Would you give Bill Gates a blow job for free?

8. When confronted by a rabid squirrel do you:
a. Call your local animal control
b. Pay a homeless person $20 to chase it off
c. Break out the family cookbook

9. Who would you rather have as a roommate:
a. A relative
b. A friend
c. Herve Villachez

10. What color would you like the inside of your coffin to be?

11. May I constantly refer to you as "My Fuzzy-Lumpikins"?

12. Have you ever faked a coma to get out of a speeding ticket?

13. When confronted by an armed assailant do you:
a. Hand over your possessions
b. Attempt to overpower him/her
c. Tell him, "Dad, go home and sober up."

14. Your child has been caught cheating at school. Do you:
a. Ground him/her
b. Sit down with him/her and explain the importance of honesty
c. Make him/her swallow $4.39 worth of pennies.

15. If you were composed entirely of Play-Doh, what color would you be?

16. What can you construct using 3 lettuce leaves, 1 postage stamp, and a signed photo of Carol Channing?

17. Who was the better Enterprise Captain:
a. Kirk
b. Picard
c. Martha Stewart

18. Would you willingly breed with Darth Vader?

19. Have you ever eaten cereal?

20. Would you be willing to answer an additional 21st question?

Saturday, September 09, 2006

The power of the hyphen

"That is one sweet-ass car!"
"That is one sweet ass-car!"

And you thought high school english was a complete waste of time.

(I love you pork chop)

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Now I get it!

Potty training.
We have made full success of the venture. Mind you, he was a little late in jumping on board. Now the larva is a full fledged member of the human race. All I have left to do is teach him to eat the inside of the Oreo first and how to pick up girls. He'll be on his way to college and out of the nest in no time.

You've read the title and thinking that can't be all.
Well you're right.

I'm a girl...obviously...I hope.
My child is a boy...obviously...I hope.
Girls and boys go to the bathroom differently.
Its true!
When a girl goes to the bathroom it is a moment rife with danger.
In a civilized setting she must take into account many factors.

1. Pre-pee:
Is the toilet seat up?
Was the last person a floater or a sitter?
Is my clothing out of the way? (especially crucial if in a skirt/dress)
Is there toilet paper?

2: Go Pee.

3: Post-pee:
Always wipe from front to back. ("Wha?" say the guys. Trust me. There are a number of uncomfortable medical conditions a gal can suffer if momma failed to instill this little directional gem in her daughter's subconscious.)
Is my dress/skirt tucked into my panty hose?
Is there any TP attached to any portion of my anatomy?

In a (ahem) rural setting you can add a few more unpleasanties to the mix. The most pressing of which is how to balance yourself. Poor balance can lead to unpleasant and damp results.

But for the male of the species, it's a whole different world. Doesn't matter if its civilized or rural...
1. Step up and drop trou.

2. Go Pee.
Make interesting patterns.
Screw aim, life is short.
Make bubbles!
Shoot things.
Bend it for interesting angles (Oh my god! I can't believe you can do that!).
Look Mom! No hands!

3. Give it a little shake, pull up you pants (careful of those nasty zipper teeth) and get on with your life.

For the female of the species, going pee is a series of ritualized events necessary to ensure continued good health.
For the male of the species, going pee is a mini party.

This, for me, explains a hell of a lot when it comes to the differences between men and women.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Three reasons Ms. Manners is feeling pissy

Things that I want the world's population to stop doing to me:

1. "Heyhowyadoin!"

Someone is saying hello and is concerned for my welfare.
How sweet.
How considerate.
Saying hello to someone is nice.
Asking someone "how are you doing" is nice.
These things foster feelings of goodwill and takes us one step closer to global peace and understanding. I applaud this and encourage more of it.
But's not that. It's heyhowyadoin.
Heyhowyadoin makes me want to bite people.
It's always said in passing. And I always answer.
This takes the tosser off guard. They stumble in their attempt to escape.
Yes, escape.
You see they always throw out the heyhowyadoin as they are rushing by.
This, for them, means "Hi".
They can't just say "Hi".
Oh no. Instead they have to trigger my natural instincts to respond by throwing out what is traditionally a question.
And then I'm left feeling like a doorknob because I'm responding to a retreating back.

2. But I'm feeling much better now

This would be the flip side of heyhowyadoin.
We meet up accidently somewhere.
I say "Hello! How are you?" because I wish to greet you and am concerned for your general welfare.
How sweet.
How considerate.
I am nice.
I say these things to foster feelings of goodwill and take us one step closer to global peace and understanding.
I am then assualted with a diatribe on your raging case of scurvey. Followed by the results of your mother's pap smear. Followed by an update on your dream to race the oceans of the world in a boat made of popsicle sticks and Wrigley's spearmint gum.
Look, not to say that I don't care and can't empathize, but we're standing in the frozen food section of Super Walmart!
My fish sticks are melting! My kid is gonna start grazing on the ice cream!My life is flashing before my eyes as hypothermia begins to set in!
It's not that I want you to lie.
Just stick to good/bad/bleeding for the time being.
I promise I'll give you my full attention later.
But I gotta go.
And to do that I'll make a complete tool of myself.

3. Friendly neighbor

I sit down to go pee in a public bathroom. Someone slips into the stall next to mine.
"Um...hello," I respond.
"Are you ready to party?"
"I guess...but I should probably wash my hands first?"
"Jim said he'll pick up the supplies," chirps the voice on the other side of the partition.
"Ummm...yay Jim?"
"Look, I'll call ya back later. Got another call coming in."

I then realize that my instincts to respond have failed me once again.
I curse the prodgeny of whoever it was that invented the cell phone, quietly pull myself together, and pray they don't step out of the stall as I flush and make a VERY speed getaway.

(I would like to point out that this is a multi-victim crime. Me and whoever it is that has to talk to this nasty little idiot as she's using the toilet...eww)


In closing...please stop it.
All of it.
If you don't stop triggering my loser reflex I'm gonna have to stop paying attention to you. There I'll be.. ...reduced to wearing a paperbag over my head....skulking around in full ninja garb....walking around with my fingers stuck in my ears screaming "LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!"

Until, eventually, I'm struck by a bus that I didn't see coming... because I did see you coming.

Save a life.

Friday, August 11, 2006

And there it is.

Under Stargate Atlantis Fan Fiction, Gen, Humor...

Woobies of Woe

Whoda thunk it.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Night of the living Momma

The cleanest room in my house is my son's bedroom.
Beyond all belief? Not necessarily.
You see, he refuses to stay in there...unless I'm in there with him.
Awww! Ain't that cute!
No! No it's not!
I've just come back from a trip to Michigan. A week of wandering that great mitten of a state with the larva in tow. Every minute of my life for the past week has been filled with nothing but the kid. Zoos, hands on museums, swimming, sleeping, eating, walking, running, and riding in the back seat all done in the company of my delightful prodgeny.

I want my brain back!

My house is trashed. The husband made promises that it would be as clean when I returned as it was when I left. Been back 2 days and been promised 2 more times. Gonna have to do it myself.
Gonna have to do it while juggling the Bug's attentions. (that's his nickname, not a derogatory term)

I want my brain back!

The other day I remembered, if only for a brief instant, what it was like before I bred. Then the memory slipped away as I was cracking open another juice box.

My brain!

I'm about to be reduced to a mindless lump of mama flesh. You'll likely see me hanging outside the McDonalds playland waiting for the kid to come back to eat the last french fry. Or perhaps you'll see me staring glassy-eyed down the aisles of a local Toys-R-Us. Maybe you'll spot me wandering hopelessly around the front yard as the kid bounces a poorly aimed soccer ball off of my head.
No matter where I am or what I'm doing, listen very closely. If you stop you'll hear it...barely audible...a desolate groan...


Friday, July 14, 2006

Ring around Rosie

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Science has spent a lot of time and money to focus that eye. And after all that time and effort they basically concluded that two things hold true no matter where you go in the world: symmetry is desirable as well as a particular hip to waist ratio.That ratio is 70%. (Medical science would like to see the gals of the world at 80%)
No matter where you are in the world if your waist is 30% smaller than your hips you have an advantage over all those other breeders.

Marylin Monroe in her size 10 ? 70%
Kate Moss with her size -0? 70%

It doesn't matter if you're in Kansas, Moscow, or deep in the Brazilian rain forests. If you have that magic number you're an eye catcher.
The entire species has decided that this is a damn good number.
So to all you gals wearing low rise jeans with wide load waists...


The entire spectrum of humanity has decided that this is not attractive! From the barrio to the bayou you are making a fashion faux paus on an evolutionary level.

The reason I bring this up is not only because I've seen more than my fair share of blubbery belt lines this summer. I bring this up because yours truly, in a moment of lunacy, bought a bright red dress recently...with a VERY low cut top.

I wish I'd had someone there to remind me of the muffin top madames walking around the walmart with whiney brats in tow. I wish someone had been there to tell me that pretty ain't that hard if you just keep all your parts in perspective.

I wish I didn't have this bright red reminder of what I'm not.

So I consider this particular rant to be a public service:
Gals, find what works and stop being bullied by fashion. I will thank you. The species will thank you. And you will feel a lot better about yourself in the long run.

And as an added bonus, you got a better chance of getting laid!

(this particular rant is a little rough around the edges. sorry. it's been so long that guilt has forced me to post.)

Sunday, June 25, 2006


I know. It's been a while since I put anything in here.
I have a half finished blog entry floating around on the hard drive waiting to be finished.
But what can I say.
My house is trashed. My body is cranky. And I have to figure out how to make a giant fried egg costume (I should really learn when to keep my big mouth shut). I'm still in the building stages of a puppet show. I've been taking on extra hours at work. I'm doing the final filming for that blasted superhero movie. The husband is complaining about not getting enough attention. I'm trying to step up my mommy game.
And I'm whining a lot more.
Do you really want a blog entry composed entirely of me this one?
Some body send me some random love. I could use a safety net right about now.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

How dead is dead?

For mother's day I asked for a small fish bowl with a couple of guppies. I was feeling nostalgic. As a child we always had a bowl of guppies located in the kitchen. It was a tiny cirle of life that sat next to the drying rack. Spend a few moments feeding them every now and then and you were rewarded with life lessons. Life, death, reproduction, and cannibalism (one must never underestimate the important lesson cannibalism teaches) all on display and offering cheap entertainment day or night.
What I got for mother's day was a big plastic 1 1/2 gallon bowl with a lid, 2 feeder goldfish, and 1 measley little plant.
The kid and I put the thing together and I immediately decided it wasn't right. There was no way these critters would last without more. The bowl of my childhood was practically a self sustaining environment. This plastic tub with its tacky gold inhabitants (which cost a hell of a lot more than my original request) wasn't about to last out the week.
So the spawn and I headed to the pet store to get a snail and some more plants.
As we perused the wall of aquariums it was feeding time. Right on my son's level sat the crabs. A mob of clawed wrestlers began pulling half nelsons and figure fours on their roommates to get first dibs on the morsels that floated down.
My son was thrilled.
So, of course, I got one.
After all the main point of the damn tank was to create together moments. That crab was my ticket to keeping his attention focused on the great well of wisdom that was about to be revealed to us.
And then it happened, the first life lesson.
The crab died.
Problem was, that the kid wasn't home.
Wasn't due home for 2 more days.
He isn't quite we debated on our next move.
Choice 1: Toss the corpse and hope he doesn't notice the sudden drop in population. If he does notice, we tell him the truth. And he learns that death is completely mysterious. You leave the house and those precious to you dissappear without a trace and no one talks about it unless forced to.
Choice 2: Replace the crab. No way he'd notice the difference.He eventually learns that immortality is attainable if you live in a small tank of tap water.
Choice 3: Leave the little corpse until the kid comes home.And he learns that...well...death stinks.
In the end we decided to toss the little corpse and wait it out. He noticed.And for the first time in my child's life, I told him a bald faced lie.The crab missed his mommy and went home.
I am a spineless saccharine soaked loser.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

She's bbaaaaccckkkk

And the Grand Canyon is grand. An epiphanous experience? No. But actually impressive nontheless. I was a bit surprised when I took that first gander and felt my eyes cross a bit. Well done mother nature. That's quite a figure you got there.
When I wasn't busy being surprised by the fact that the Grand Canyon actually is an impressive bit of real estate I was running escort for my mother-in-law. Not an unpleasant duty. She can't travel at anything greater than a super slow walk so it gave me plenty of time to wander gift shops, peer at the view, and overhear random snatches of conversation.
And so begins my rant...
More than a few times I would overhear someone saying some crap about the honesty of some native american that they met. How deep the experience was. Or in the case of an actual conversation held with an odd chick from Amsterdam, "I prefer to hang with native peoples. They're so deep."Ok. Look. I'm not about to diss native american cultures or the people who happen to be card carrying members. This rant is for those pinheads who are puttering around the planet trying so hard to be deep by hanging out with anyone who has been billed as wisdom laden gurus in touch with the endless mysteries of the universe. (Man, talk about pressure for poor Running Elk and his progeny!)

Let me make it simple for you and provide the Do-It-Yourself Guru guide:
1. Head down to your local grocery store and steal a cardboard box.
2. Name it Bob. Or Bob Bearfoot if you wanna make it seem 'deeper'.
3. Talk to it, and nothing but it, for at least 2 weeks.

You now have your own personal guru.
You were expecting a pulse?
Come on! It's the experience you desired!
You meet a battered soul who has experienced the difficulties of life. Though beaten by the rampant consumerism of a 'white man's world' he stands strong. Your questions are met with the stoney silence of ultimate wisdom.
And it didn't cost you a damn thing!
In the end I believe we often seek that which we do not have. Be it that shiney new speed boat, a stunning pair of 6 inch stilleto heels, or a personality.
If you feel that you need to seek out others for depth, honesty, or a connection with the planet. Stop. Look at yourself. Because just like Bob, any guru you stumble across will only give you what you walk in with.
Or maybe you should just invite someone different from you to lunch. You'd be surprised what you can learn about yourself by having a conversation with someones crazy old aunt over a tuna sandwich.
Did any of that make any sense?

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

We're off to see the Grand Canyon. Been in Arizona 6 years and I've never made the trip. This, apparently, is shameful. I did not know this, but it is. I am not a good citizen of the US unless I make a point of visiting some tourist trap teetering on the edge of the largest hole in the continental United States.
I figure the 6 hour trip up, trapped in an economy sedan with the inlaws and my kid, should be penance enough. And the 6 hour trip back should be enough to convince me never to do THAT again.
But then again, I've never seen the Grand Canyon in person before. Perhaps the experience will be epiphanous. Perhaps it will force me to reconsider my entire existence in some joyous moment of rapture. Nah. I'm an American. Unless it has bells, whistles, pretty lights, and a strong dose of sexual inuendo I'm too jaded to be swayed by any of mother nature's crevices.

And now for my rant on Easter grass.
Fuck! This shit is everywhere! I can't get it out of my house! I find it in my kid's hair, in my bed, in my shoe. You don't actually see it...and then suddenly its made another appearance in some undesired local - like herpes!It kills the vacuum. It hides under the couch. And if your pet happens to eat some...well, in the end that is an unpleasant experience for everyone.
And its entire purpose?
It's the baby's breath of holiday crap giving. It's merely colorful filler meant to either set off the glory of your economic largess or camoflage the poverty ridden joke that is your kid's easter basket. I say down with this crap! It's got to be a terror to the environment. I can just imagine the vermin down at the dump dying of severe constipation and malnutrition as they mistakenly try to graze in the verdant fields of simu-vegetation.

Blech. I need to put on my happy pants or this is going to be a hellish day.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Yes Virginia, there is a god...

Question is, whose god is it?
Most of my week is spent with the kid or driving to some destination or other. Occassionally there's a pit stop, during which time I'll take a chance to check emails, friend's blogs, eat things that aren't healthy for me...
Believe it or not I do have friends of some substance. They write in-depth blogs that have actual meaning. They question politics, societal constructs, or say... religion.
I try to think of blog entries for my own little internet acre that have nearly as much depth...let alone interest. I don't have much success when all is said and done. Maybe its too much time in the company of a larval human or maybe its just my inherent laziness...or maybe its just because my "deep thoughts" tend to be rather short on marketable relevance.
Take religion for example...I've been asked, during various times and in various locations, what theological camp I've pitched my tent in. Do you prefer the pope or buddha? Feel an affinity for some guy named Luther who happened to own a hammer, a nail, and a few ideas? Do you escort spiders out the door instead of squashing them?
Well...I've never found a religious text that didn't turn out to be derivative of some other text. And the inherent exclusionary nature of all recognized religions makes me uncomfortable. Sometimes it even pisses me off.
But how do you relate to someone that god is a number of things:It is Schrodinger's cat - infinite actuality in a single moment.It is something that has never worn pants - no one puts on pants unless they have to.God is my child - continual change and development.God loves entropy - it is the one law of the universe that absolutely cannot be broken.
Gender? Hell? Sin? Moral right or wrong? I have no idea. I'm lucky if I can remember my own phone number.
Crap. I should be in bed. I have to get up at 5 am tomorrow. How about I just wrap up this pointless rant?
I am not a member of any organized religion. This does not mean that I am incapable of contemplating such things...or maybe even being deep about it. So stop looking at me like I'm a pointless heathen.
And I do escort spiders out the door. Unless they refuse to cooperate. Then they gets the boot.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Sitting in the car, waiting at a light, trying to entertain myself as I wander about the city doing my daily business.
Nothing like the randomization of thoughts to fill the day.
I've never gotten a tattoo because I can't think of anything that I'd want to view emblazoned across my saggy wrinkled hide when I hit some grand old age. Every rose wilts, especially when its attached to your tit. Gravity makes any fine epidermal artwork a sad comentary on the days when you thought you were interesting...or at least trying very hard to be interesting.
So what to do about it?
Why not go for something that creates a deeper impact as it ages...a bowl of fruit? An expiration date? A portrait of Dorian Grey?
You could get WWJD tattooed across you ass. Poor Bobby...A slow lazy bit of foreplay ends in a moment of complete and utter mental breakdown as the sweet, horney boy slips you out of your low rise bikinis, "'What would Jesus'...oh god..." And then a whimper escapes his lips as he tries to decide if his lord and saviour would tap that ass.
Just what would Jesus do?
I don't know what he'd do...but I know my somebody is probably thinking very un-christian thoughts about me for that bit of nonsense.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

So I says to my son, "Shea, wanna go to the craft store?"
And the three year old replies, "Crabstore! Crabstore!"
Let me tell you, when we walked into that store, that was one disappointed kid.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

The Simple Things

For Christmas a relative gave the kid a whack-a-mole game.
Today, I caught the 3 year old using his genitalia for a mallet.
Betcha never saw that one coming Auntie Jennifer.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Whose idea...?

Yup. Me. Out in public dressed in a poorly fitting superhero costume. Not especially flattering. Gotta have a long talk with the costume gal on this film. I don't feel real good about this one.
Not so much.
That's the husband in the background pretending he doesn't know me.

Monday, February 13, 2006

By any other name...

Bad day at work.
I comfort myself with the knowledge that, at least, my last name is not Pickle.
That'd suck.
At least I think it would.

Monday, December 19, 2005

What Human Resources don't know...

My immediate supervisor began to complain after she sent me multiple IM's thatI wasn't answering. So I answered. What follows is a copy of the stream of consciouness IM that i sent her. Each line is a new IM.

so one day as i was walking along i found a small turtle on his back
so i stopped and asked the turtle what had happened
it was of course a turtle so it didn't answer back
that was a real slow news day.
then i kicked it.
really hard.
it flew and flew and then it hit a nun on the head.
she was pissed.
she sad a bad word
i laughed
she picked up the turtle and bagan to chase me
but she was old and slow
so i did a u turn and came round behind her
she was pretty damn surprised and ran into a stop sign
she dropped the turtle
it cracked open from the impact and out came a small drag queen
the mini queen made a be line for the nun's clothing.
the nun kept screaming what what what are you doing?
the drag queen continued to climb and climb and simply proclaimed, "I'm trying to kick the habit."
the end.

Suck story. Cool paycheck.

Saturday, December 17, 2005


Well, it's my birthday.
I've gotten a call from one brother and my sister.
Still haven't gotten a call from my mom.
Still haven't heard the words from my husband.
Somebody's headed for my crap list.
Yup yup.
Been a long time since I put anything in here. Probably a damn good reason for that, right?

Monday, September 12, 2005

Business Terminology

"Pod jumping!"


"Aw...come on man..."

Steve picked at a piece of imaginary lint on his pant leg, "It'll never fly."

"What would you call moving from one pod to another then?" George snapped back.

Steve rolled his eyes and sighed, "You have to keep the language all official sounding."

George snorted.

"Like business relations...or lateral advancement...or employment facilitation expert. Pod jumping sounds too kiddie scifi."


Steve sat quietly considering the question a few moments before replying, "Business Moving."

"Business moving?"

"Yes. Definitely."

"Use it in a sentence."

Steve snapped his fingers, "Easy - I feel the urge to make a business movement."

"Alright," George smiled, "I can work with that."

"See," Steve beamed back, "you just have to have a corporate mindset."

"Ok. But this is AOL."


"AOL is the king of the acronym."

Steve huffed, "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"So," George giggled, "business movement becomes BM."


"Let's try it on for size shall we?" George rubbed his hands together, "I feel the urge to make a BM."

"Oh god." Steve's head dropped to the desk with a thump.

"Yeah. I think it'll catch on."

(This entry brought to you by JP's request. Translation: Don't blame me)

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Next week

Next week I take the stage for the first time with the improv troupe that I joined. ( )
The moment came to volunteer to do the show and I hesitated. I had to ask myself why I'd put myself out there like that.
I do it because it scares the shit out of me.
And that makes me proud.

Friday, September 09, 2005


There are gangland molls that require less upkeep than my husband.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Chief Justice Dead...

but so is Bob Denver.
Gilligan has left the island.

Monday, September 05, 2005


I'm a 35 year old woman in lime green low rise underwear.
Not sure what that means. But the panties look damn good.

Friday, September 02, 2005


There are those who can quit smoking in one day. They then regale the rest of us with how easy it was. That they never suffer a single twitch. Their lives are so much better.
They can suck my freudian dick.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Ain't he cute

I had a kid. Doesn't that scare the shit out of anyone but me?

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

You expecting something?

Recently the tempuratures have been creeping their way back into the 104 degree range. I've been told that this is the beginning of a growing season.
Grow what?
The damn dirt isn't good enough to cover my driveway back home and you're gonna tell me it's capable of supporting life? Growing things? That after you pound a seed into this low grade cement it's going to come up with something worthwhile?
If you were to take me into your backyad and show me a fabulous rutebega, I would take the falsified produce and beat you about your lying head with it.
Arizona sucks.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

What I learned

After 35 plus years I've met more than a few people. And I've come to the conclusion that you are all, every single one of ya, not quite right in the head.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Necessity is the mother of invention.
Boredom is the father.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

See. I did too go to a wedding.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

For J.P.

Lyle pushed the mashed potatoes around on his plate and listened to the muted crash and bang of the cafeteria around him. Gravy oozed over the mound to pool in a pattern that tugged at his imagination. A few careful swoops of the spoon and the tepid brown liquid filled the newly formed eye sockets. Careful carving of a jaw line was followed by the creation of a few sparse teeth.

"Skull Island," he whispered and gave a small silent "Bwahaha".

Glancing around the room to see if anyone was paying attention, he gave evil laughter another go. He decided, even slightly muted, he liked the feel of it curling up the back of his throat.

He pulled a pen from his pocket and began to scribble on his napkin: ' Rabid Monkeys'. He stared at the words for a few moments before adding '- with laser guided poo-flinging apparatus'.

Sue from accounting passed by the table and he pushed the napkin under the edge of his plate. Grabbing the spoon he smiled up at her as she passed. She smiled back and continued on to sit with Miranda, from data entry, at the table across the room.

"My secret remains safe," he mumbled as a tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

He used the spoon again, this time to position a line of peas around the tuber based geography of Skull Island. Then he surreptitiously tugged the napkin back into view and added 'Land Mines' to his list. He repositioned a few of the peas in the gravy ocean to cover any gaps in the defenses.

'Orange Jumpsuits ' was added to the list. He chewed at the end of his pen for a moment before inserting the word 'Corduroy' between the two words.

"I will see my minions coming." He snickered as he put a double underline below the word corduroy, "I shall hear my minions coming. I shall not be usurped." He made corduroy shh-shup noises as he watched the gravy thickening.

His pen began to wander aimlessly over the paper:
Attack Bees
Grizzled Thick-set Marmot Perimeter Guards
Bubble wrap flooring
Electrified Slinkies at the top of all stairwells
...He began singing quietly to himself, "What kills on stairs alone or in pairs and makes a slinkity sound..."

He dropped the pen and the tune to pick up his fork. He poked at the pasta salad on his plate while watching Sue and Miranda giggle over their diet sodas. He took a bite and picked up the pen again. It began to sketch the hourglass curves of a female form. Beside the doodle he began another list:
Long Black Hair
Cool Foreign Accent - Russian???

Really really long legs... really really High Heels
Doesn't mind if toilet seat left up.

No....that last one didn't quite feel right. He rolled the phrasing around in his head.

Exists to serve only me.

Still felt wrong to him. He scratched it out.

Obeys my every whim.

He gave a snort then violently crossed out the entire category to replace it with one word: FEMBOT!!!!!

At that moment, Ken from accounts receivable slid into the seat next to him. Lyle scrambled to tuck the ink covered napkin under the edge of the plate, but Ken was faster.

"What the hell is this?" Ken said a little too loudly as he snatched up the crumpled plans for world domination and waved them in the air.

Lyle mumbled something incoherent as he ducked his beet red face closer to his cold lunch plate. He stabbed a spoon into the center of Skull Island and tried to surreptitiously create a 10.9 quake that would destroy all evidence of his Fortress of Doom.

Ken read the first list items out loud to be greeted by a collective giggle from the cafeteria crowd. Ken's voice built to a crescendo as it reached the end, "FEMBOT exclamation point exclamation point exclamation point exclamation point exclamation point!"

And Steve from R&D blew red jello out his nose.

"Well, Lyle..." Ken snickered, " or should I say, Darth Lyle, it would appear that I have foiled your plans!"

Lyle dashed from the room to the sound of the crowd building up to a chant of "Darth Darth Darth"

Back in the safety of his cubicle, Lyle carefully tidied the surface of his desk. Paperclips were returned to the neat magnetic box on the left corner. The red Swingline stapler was carefully lined up against the edge of the desk calendar. He sighed and pulled a Sharpee from its labeled desk drawer cubby. He pulled off the marker's cap and inhaled the sharp scent as he reached below the desk. His hand returned to the pristine surface carrying a tattered piece of paper with yellowed bits of tape on the edges.

Walt Disney
Bob the mailman
Uncle George
Sister Agnes

Taking great care with his penmanship, Ken was added to the list.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Job security

If Walter Cronkite rose from the grave would he still be able to get a job reporting the evening news?

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

I was bored again

I’ve been at the Malaysian branch office for quite a while now. I think that I am beginning to adjust. The thought that the home office has completely set me adrift is far to horrifying to contemplate. However, the loneliness of the empty offices isn’t quite so deep and some of my internal fears have been quelled . Especially since I discovered Alin.
I had no idea that he was even here. He had apparently been hired as my personal assistant. At least I think he was. I discovered him in an office on the third floor during a foray to locate more Whiteout. He seems quite intelligent and I believe that we will be able to create a dynamic working relationship once we are past the language barrier. Teaching him English has become my main focus.
We spend hours on end sitting in my office, the windows giving us a stunning view of the ocean, while I attempt to teach him words for the basic elements of office survival. I have found it easiest to use implements that are close at hand.
Currently we are up to thirty-three words. Among them are stapler, Cross pen, paperclip, and fax machine. Why I bothered to teach him fax machine I’m not sure. The silence of it, as it lurks in the corner, can be overwhelming. Perhaps that is why. Perhaps I merely wished for company in my misery.
Internet access is still a problem and the phones have not yet been successfully installed. The isolation is near overwhelming. There is nothing but the buzz of the fluorescents and the quiet murmur of Alin as he tries his new vocabulary on for size.
The supplies in the vending machine will soon run out. I believe that I will have to send Alin out for food. I can only imagine what will become of my ulcer once I am forced to eat the native cuisine.
My only hope now is that the R&D team I was promised, before I stepped on board the flight to this god-forsaken office building, will arrive soon to save me from myself.

Thursday, April 07, 2005

This picture isn't here because I believe it to be cute. It's here because I find it funny when I scar my child for life. Posted by Hello

Thursday, March 31, 2005

Peep Jousting! Because it's all fun and games when someone loses an eye! Posted by Hello