The scarecrow wanted a brain. Said he could use one. Said a brain would be a fabulous new little gadget for him...
He stated that with a brain:
I would not be just a nuffin'
My head all full of stuffin'
My heart all full of pain.
I would dance and be merry
Life would be a ding-a-derry
If I only had a brain--Whoa!
Take an inside-real-depth-look-inside-mine-today:
Walk...keep your balance...are you talking to me? I am not listening..blah blah blah...ahuh..ahuh..ahuh...watch out for crack on the ground....yawn...switch purse to other hand...damn it's so fucking hot...I hate walking...what? I wasn't paying attention..look interested...silence..don't talk..fuck...don't say a word...Men are assholes...yeah I suck my thumb...yeah I'm that naive...believe it. Have to remember the MTV Video Awards are tonight. Call Empress. Tell her. Coordinate evening with her. Done. Sit. Try not to think. Yawn again. what? Am I allright? Say yes, but actually mean no. No I am not allright. can't you read between the lines? I'm feeling so empty right about now. Right about yesterday too. I hardly slept. This is all so fucking insanely depressing...huh? a pizza for me thank u. yeah cheese. try to not look completely derranged. I'd like to run someone over. Bob head. Sit. Eat. Walk. Am i sure i'm okay? yes. of course I mean no. but hell i'll never say. ...blah blah blah blah....need valium ASAP. Need immediate bed rest....blah blah blah...sink into bottomless pit...enjoy....
Scarecrow doesn't have a clue the mess he's asking for...
I was stuck waiting. How I hate to wait. But in the Board of Education all you have left is wait.
I am stuck between the silent moms, the moms who complain every 30 seconds and the moms who just wanna strike up a conversation with anyone to ease the waiting process.
I just wanna get the hell out of there. It's hot and I'm coughing and I'm sitting on the floor.
Then a mom got "Discovery-Planet" on me.
"Do you hear that?" a mom asks me
"Not just any birds...parrots...parrots in that mango tree over there...see?"
"Em..that's nice.." ::give polite smile::
"Do you know that parrots are the most loyal and loving animals on this planet?"
"Wow". (in complete that's-enough-information-for-me-thanx-voice)
"When one of them dies, the other swoops down from above and commits suicide."
::make mental note to google this info up::
"Yep...parrots are more loyal than men...they never cheat on their mate".
::catching my interest"
"Really? Do tell me more?" (This I wanna hear)
Thought of the day: If a parrot can commit suicide due to the lost of its mate, then I want some of that love too.
...ta ta ta ra ra manah manah..ta ta ta ta...manah manah'....
I'm on my way home, I pass by the giant "Mc Flurry", I'm listening to Beck's "Guero" CD..all is good, I'm on time...I've just got this gigantic cough that's killing me, but I'll be home early...
::tires screeching and a HUGE BAAAAAAANG!!!!!!!!::<
Quarters go flying, I jolt in my chair. I have no idea what just happened. It takes me a few seconds to realize, that I have been hit from behind. My car, you sick people. Someone has just crashed into me.
I look in my rearview, I'm shaken, I see that the lil' drawer where I keep my change and flung open and my change has splattered everywhere, and I can only think of two things:
1. My van is totaled
2. I'm gonna kill this muthafucker for driving so close.
I get out. The guy, yes it's a guy, gets out. He smiles. Don't smile you ass. And get this, he says:
"I'm so sorry. I'm in a rush to pick up my grandkids. I'm late".
"Well look what your rush has done. We are all stuck in traffic. We all wanna get to our destinations in one piece".
I go around to take a look at my "Death Van".
Nada. Zip. Zero.
Death Van is A-OK. Not a scratch even.
I guess I'm getting a hang of this Jesus-robe-hanging-bit.
I tell him to be a little more careful and I go home.
Not without having to control my nerves and my heart and my headache and shaking hands all the rest of the way.
I pick up Miss C, I get home. I rush downstairs to tell my folks about my accident and as I walk in I stumble upon this:
My mom is resting her elbows on the kitchen counter, she is standing over the garbage bin with a stick in her hand, peering into the garbage bin.
I of course, cock an eyebrow and go:
"Err..umm...uhhh....hey?...what's with the garbage observation-project?"
"I'm on my second shift"
"Ok. You're second shift of Prozac? Zoloft? Valium? Second shift of what?"
"There is a Mickey Mouse in the garbage bin. Me and your dad sprayed "flea" on it and we've been takling turns watching over the bin so when it tries to get out, we can kill it".
"How much flea did you spray on it?"
"I don't think it will be crawling out anytime soon.."
My dad walks in...
"The Mickey Mouse? Sure it'll crawl out..and we'll kill it."
Ok. It's nice to see that they know that there is no "I" in team....and they can at least kill Mickey Mouse's together....
"He has over 700 hundred dollars in traffic violations!!!, how can he do this to me, the car is under my name!!!"
This was my mom yesterday after she found out my brother had been an asshole and forgot to mention he had all these tickets stashed away.
"You cut him too much slack, you cook for him and his buddies, you iron his clothes, you give him money for gas, and he can't even get up to buy milk...for the coffee he is gonna drink anyways...You have got to stop".
"What am I to do? Kill him...No one cares about what I have to say".
There you have it...my bro fucks up and we all pay....
We were interrupted by the phone ringing....
Let me make this parenthesis...the night before my brother left to help out his best buddy, the one who my mom thinks is gay, because his car broke down....
When the phone rang, it was him...My mom picked up...
"He is not here but may I ask you a question? [pause] Are you sleeping with my son? Are you husband and wife? [pause], well I ask you this because he is always on your beck and call, and the only way I can understand such obsession and loyalty is if you guys are sleeping together. If you admit you are, I have no problem, but this sick relationship is driving me up a wall....[pause]"
She hangs up.
Ok. That is my cue. I silently go to my house.
My mom needs some meds.
As for the rest of my weekend....Me, "A" and Miss C headed out for "Chuck E. Cheese" on Saturday....After almost 3 hours of inserting tokens and chasing after Miss C we called it an afternoon. We tried to wriggle out of Chuck E Cheese with no incidents, but Miss C decided she wanted a lizard that cost like a zillions tickets, which we did not have...so I lugged her out of that place as fast as I could and not make it look like we were kidnapping her, bought her a toy pony in another store and headed home.
Damn you Chuck..damn you and your 300 ticket plastic lizard!
Thought of the day:
"Having children is like being pecked to death by a chicken"
When we die, some of us don't have anything set up. Sad, huh? Usually no arrangements, no will, no nada...in the worst cases, no money, not even for a burial. Other people do. They have made plans, they have made out a will, bought policies, paid in advance for services and even chosen the latest Titanium Casket...(If you're going to hell, this is the casket version of a Manolo Blahnik)...
But I was wondering how many take the time to lay out what they want done to them before being put to rest...I mean, instructions as to clothes (I wouldn't want to be buried in anything my mom picked out), particular and personal arrangments, guest lists (shit...I know I'd have one..::rolls eyes::)...So I have arranged my own:
Here are my B.I.B.L.E. (Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth), part of my weekly Friday's Four:
1. I will be buried with shoes. I don't give a fuck if they don't put shoes on dead people. I will have shoes. My email doesn't say "shoegirl" for nuthing'...I will be buried with Manolo Blahnik Black Mary Janes. They sell them at Neiman Marcus. I don't care how much they cost. I have left a separate account for the purchase of the shoes. My casket should be opened so that my shoes can be admired. Disobey my last wish and I will come back from hell and take you with me....barefoot or in Flip Flops, biaches!!!
2. I do not want flowers. NO FLOWERS. They are gonna die. You wanna do something nice for me: Make a Donation to the Autism Group I belong to. You wanna do something extra nice: pitch in to have my casket painted by Local and Legendary Graffiti Artists REK & SKE.
3. I want music. Lots of Music. I have left a list of music that I wish to have played at my burial. I do not wish to be viewed in a funeral parlor. I wish to be viewed "Ol' skool' style: In my house. I will have a DJ spinning records at my viewing. I will have spoken word, emceeing, graffiti artists, and b-boys. It will be a party. Cuz leaving this world will be my pleasure when my time comes. When you take me to be buried, I want music as well. I want people playing tambores, congas. I want Bomba & Plena, I want to leave with the music that made me be and helped me be what I am.
4.If my uncle's wife, the crazy hillbilly bitch who likes to take pictures of her daughters next to dead people's caskets, and asks them to smile (her daughter's not the dead folk), comes with her Polaroid or whatever fucking camera she has now and tries to snap half-a-pic, someone must smash her to a bloody pulp and ask her what the fuck is her deali-o with pics of the dead. It's not some goddamned ride at Disney or Universal!!! It's a dead person in a dead person box. This task will be designated upon arrival to whomever can beat-that-ass the quickest. And if you all wanna take part, take turns. ::make mental note to buy some sort of gadget for "Now Serving" purposes::
So, the question remains my people: What are your B.I.B.L.E.?
I will not be going away for the weekend as originally planned. Miss C's pool is in trouble. It's hoses got stiff with the hellish sun and broke, squirting water galore!! So my task this weekend is to buy new hoses, re-fill pool and make it all better. Well, technically I will only buy material...need man to come do labor...any volunteers??
I've got ice tea!!
Since this has occurred I will not be taking breath-taking pics with my new camera...instead I leave you with this wonderful pic I took on my way home from work yesterday...passing a construction site...
What is it?
Take a closer look...
It's a Gigantic Mc Flurry....
What the fuck is wrong with Mc Donald's?????
Like I need to see a fucking huge Mc Flurry in a traffic jam, dog-ass tired from work, in a blistering 90+ degree weather situation...
As a bonus...and I swear I won't bug ya' for the rest of the weekend...::crosses fingers behind back::
Miss C saw something this morning..and she squealed:
"Picture Momma!! Picture!!"
So I snapped a picture...
It was the most beautiful thing on such a soggy morning full of traffic...
Thought for the weekend:
I definitely don't do Perky.
Before I get to Friday's Four...I want to leave a note to my neighbor:
Just a wee note to ya', my dear neighbor.
I am very glad we could settle our differences yesterday evening. I am thrilled it only took:
2 'shushes' from my window
One 'death glare' from same window
and One 'verbal face-to-face' enconter
To get my point across.
I am happy you understood that I was not upset at the fact that you were washing your girlfriend's car at 10 pm, nor was I upset you were wetting her and her 7 year old, fully clothed, daughter with the garden hose. I'm glad you understood that it was the severe shrieking coming from them, the almost equivalent shriek of a pig being slaughtered, that bugged me. Thank you for understanding that some people on this block work and got to go to school.
I must also give props to you for getting them to pipe down so quickly. I don't know your precise technique or the exact quantity of duck tape you used, but it worked like a charm.
As a peace offering I am enclosing an avocado from the same tree you insist on cutting branches from and throwing back into our yard.
"Don't I make you feel safe and comfortable?"
Hmm..Let me ponder this question with more effort.
No. No one makes me feel safe. I'm a paranoid bitch. I think everyone is out to get me. I am constantly jittery. No one makes me feel like a brick will not randomly fall out of the sky and crack my skull open. Safety is a luxury I have yet to experience.
Not even owning a VW Jetta would make me feel safe. And those people at VW say that "SAFE HAPPENS".
Yeah..?? to whom?
Now to the other point: Comfortable
If you mean comfortable in feeling I can kick my feet up on your couch, yeah. sure.
Now, if you mean comfortable in the sense that I feel I can tell you everything and that I don't play up scenarios where I run you over with my Death Van.
No one has accomplished that, either.
Safety and Comfort are two 'crocky' words in my language of relationships.
I don't know if I will ever feel safe and comfortable in a relationship or if I can meet someone who will provide similar standards.
But I do know that I have two Airbags, always wear my seatbelt, always wear shoes and never drink out of the tap.
That's about as safe as it gets. And it's all good.
ABA: Applied Behavioral Analysis and sheer manipulation is what I have been using to get Miss C to use the bathroom and abandon her diapers.
I must say in almost two weeks, we are doing great.
We started out, as I mentioned, with a chart...ahem...::coughs:: since I have a camera NOW, I can show you my chart:
I got this chart originally at Child Avenue. The original Chart had a Train. But I assumed that having a train would be confusing so I searched on the web and I found some pictures of a lil' girl on the potty. I replaced the train pic. Then I did the following:
1. I placed velcro wherever I wanted a star placed.
2. I bought star stickers and glued them on posterboard and placed velcro on them as well, so that they would stick to the chart.
3. I glued the chart to posterboard and decorated.
I did the same exact chart for school and daycare and my mom's house. Everything sincronized.
The original plan was to give Miss C a reward when she finished placing all the stars on the board. But that was taking quite a bit and we were not getting positive results. So I went to a local drugstore, bought some cheap tinker toys and began rewarding her every time she went.
Seeing that this was gonna get expensive cuz the gal caught on, I then downsized to lil' toys from quarter vending machines. Miss C understood that everytime she went successfully to the bathroom we would give her a prize. I'd say in about a week, she was going by herself at home.
Last week she started school. I talked to her teacher and we continued the process at school. In a full week she has completely understood the whole process and yesterday the teacher wrote in her notebook that she is going by herself to the bathroom. The teacher, instead of giving her toys is giving her stickers, or stamps her hand with a cute lil' picture.
So now we have officially downsized to stickers.
Our goal it to eventually downsize to prizes like: going out to the park, maybe getting her food at her favorite place, etc and/or verbal praises. This, until she no longer needs a 'reward' in order to go potty.
That's what ABA is all about. Modifying Conduct until you can get the result you want and extinguish all conduct that you don't want. For those who have not tried it, it works very well with all children, not only special need children. In my case, it's been a bonus. I also highly recommend the book: A Work in Progress by Ron Leaf.
It breaks down ABA step-by-step for different situations. I also highly recomend it for teachers, not only parents of special need children.
I felt I needed to share this info...because you never know who is reading and who can find my personal experience useful...
But that will be it...
Thought of the day: Things can always be accomplished, if we do not lose perspective...
Ain't I bloody chipper...::makes retching noise::
I am so disappointed.
Here are some silly pics of my house(except my room..! can't show you where the "magik" goes on..jaja!), Miss C and of course my newest pairs of shoes!!
I'll be fidgeting around a bit...but I finally got a camera!!!
I am currently working on tie-ing my hands to the table, with masking tape.
I should not weaken under what I have just seen.
A digital camera.
::bangs head on table::
I know I will never find a sale like this again.
I deserve it.
I should buy it.
I should splurge.
Guess who is gonna go buy a camera on her lunch break?
::hangs head in shame::
I'll never buy my IPOD or my Manolo's at this rate.
On the latest Potty Breaking News: Miss C has begun to go potty at school. Her teacher, Lord Bless her soul, is even more excited than I am. She wrote it on her notebook and told me she is very happy that Miss C has come such a long way. She and Miss C's psychologist both agree that come next year, Miss C should be headed for a regular classroom, with regular kids. Of course, Miss C will need an Aide, since there are still some things Miss C can't do on her own, but just the thought of her being in a regular class gives me a bittersweet mixture of Joy and Complete and Utter:
But I'll deal with those when we get there.
Yesterday was also a day of Joy at our Household, me and my dad spent the whole afternoon talking about Baseball and how we swept the series, while my mother looked on with a : Ask-me-if-I-actually-give-a-flying-fuck-look.
"Eat your godammned dinners!!"
Yada yada yada, lady. Lighten up. Drink a Corona for God's sake, he won't mind if you lay off his robe a bit.
I also feel ten pounds lighter. No I did not do Pilates, I got a haircut. There was a lil' misunderstanding when I got to the salon, because I was told my 'gal' was working till 8pm, but she really was leaving at 6pm. She offered to hook me up, even though she had already 'punched out', but I told her that if she was in a hurry I had no problem coming back the next day. She insisted.
I was not very thrilled of getting a haircut with such insistance.
The Finished Results: I look like an Army Recruiter. Anyone feeling the nerve for, let's say, oh,like...signing up for a tour?
Fuck. I just hope my hair grows as fast as it usually does in order to get this GI Jane look gone pronto!
But, the créme of la créme was a conversation with "A".
Let's just say he called me something.
Something with a "G".
I think I've gone into shock and I am slowly developing PTSD (Post-Traumatic-Stress Disorder).
This new 'title' has kind of caught me off guard, and I really wasn't expecting it. Especially when I don't thrive on titles. ::props up eyebrow::
Don't go 'awwwing' and 'gushing' of joy for me.
I must go now. I am feeling the symptoms coming up again. I'm foaming at the mouth and gently rocking myself back and forth in my office chair.
Can't type. Need fresh air. Post later.
Thought of the day: There is no thought. can't think. Need suggestions.
The Boston Masacre Version 2.0
5 MUTHAFUCKING GAME SWEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5 MUTHAFUCKING GAME SWEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5 MUTHAFUCKING GAME SWEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5 MUTHAFUCKING GAME SWEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5 MUTHAFUCKING GAME SWEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
How do you like us nowwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
::settling down, reassuring clients that a fire has not broken out, wiping sweat off forehead::
Aimée and Billybob and Zen: To where shall I send the Yankees caps and the Band-Aids??
Ok. Here is something I would like to share the same way it was shared with me (thanx Aimée):
This is actually the 'song' me and "A" text message to each other...when we obviously have nothing to do...
If you Boston people have alchohol it's about time you start rubbing it in....
Cuz you are banged up...real banged up...
We won AGAIN.
Aimée...it's beginning to smell like a Boston Masacre....
But I must give kudos out to your bro...He made some good plays yesterday and is getting mentioned quite a bit....
But alas....we have kicked some ass...(that rhymed..isnt' it grand!)
The noisy ass crowd at Fenway was so quiet you could hear the crickets chirp...
No Ramirez, No Ortiz and No Schilling have been enough to save them.
Even if the Yanks lose today, I will take much comfort knowing we have stretched out our lead...and that people need to understand that we do have a good ball club!!!
As for other news non-baseball related (for those of you who hurl everytime I post about baseball), my house no longer stinks. The stench left as undercover as it got in....so after a whole day (saturday) of cleaning with dementia...and hauling buckets of water, water hoses, mops and brooms, which actually looked like a freakish scene straight out of Fantasia 2006 sans the mouse ears, my house smelled of lavander, incense (Nam Champa) and cleanliness...
Only to have my floor splattered with Red Play-Dough two hours later....
Miss C is officially out to get me...
I know it.
They all are.
I've been meaning to get around to start my Pilates again. I did Pilates for a couple of months, post baby and I loved them!! No machines, no jumping, no tieing boobs with masking tape to prevent them from dangling....just a mat and soft music and an angelic woman telling us to control our "Powerhouse"...
Why did I stop, if I was getting quick results??
I couldn't fit it into my schedule.
I've been starting Pilates again for the past month, laying out my mat the night before, my excercise clothes and setting my alarm clock for 5:30am....
But for some strange, odd, unexplainable reason, just as unexplainable as Tom Cruise's and Katie Holmes, unseen child, which was probably sacrificed for the Scientology folks, my hand keeps hitting the 'snooze' button.
I'll get around to it.
I'll probably go to the mall today to try to buy some jeans....
Nothing like seeing your ass magnified in a long mirror in the hallway of some fitting room with horrible yellow flourescent lighting to getcha in the mood for excercise!
If I have used this title before, I don't care.
Let me just say:
Boston people, your asses must hurt!!!
Cuz we've have kicked your asses these first three games!!
Do you want mercy??
I'll have to think about it.
These games are the most entertaining piece of TV this weekend.
You can imagine me and my Dad have done some major bonding.
While we are making my bro's life, a living hell.
"How's it feel to be a loser?" my dad to bro
"Fuck off" bro
"Really, how does it feel? Your team sucks". dad
"Shut up" bro
::in most annoying mocking voice::
"Do you want me to get you a Yankees cap when I go out today?" dad
My brother proceeded to lock himself in his room, and added:
"Both of you need to shut the fuck up, how many times are you gonna tell me that you've won 3 games!!"
Me and my Dad exchange refreshing glimpses.
Let's see if tonight we have the same luck.
On a Miscelaneous note: I have to get a digital camera.
Yesterday morning on my way to take Miss C to her therapies, an asshole cut me off, and right as I was gonna honk my horn and make it clear he was a total buttface, I read his car plates, the letters spelled out:
Why bother to honk my horn?
The plates are self-explanatory.
There is a saying that goes:
En guerra avisada, no muere gente.
In an advised war, no one dies.
So. I warned you. I told ya' this weekend this was gonna happen.
Today: Yanks vs. Boston double header. They played at 1pm and then again at 8:30pm
The 1pm game: We won, 12 to 4 I believe. Damon showed that even though:
He looked like Jesus, threw like Mary and acted like Judas...
He can still kick ass, even with the pinstripes!!
Right now, I checked on the status of the second game and we are tied in the 5th...
It's gonna be a hard series. 5 games. One doubleheader which was today.
There is a lot at stake...Yanks need to win a few to keep their lead and leave Boston out for the Wildcard. For benefit of those who don't know. In the early 90's I believe, the MLB changed their playoff system. Now, the three leaders of each division are guaranteed a spot in the playoffs, and they hand out what they call a "Wildcard" to the second best team in the division. Boston was in first place, but since they slipped a few, now the Yanks are on top, possibly leaving Boston to fight for the Wildcard.
Sorry about the techinical Gibberish. But I felt ya' needed to know.
If you didn't care:
Thought of the evening:
Why did I see today a mother and daughter (she was about 25) dressed in the same turqoise Lacrosse Polo Shirts? Is this some kind of code? Is it a way of not getting lost?
My Space has saved my life!!
That is all.
In honor of the upcoming Elections, where Congress is at stake...I will dedicate this Friday's Four to the things I would do, if I actually ran for President and won...(none of which I see actually happening...)
First of all if I were to be President/Governor..yada yada yada, obviously there would be more than four things I'd do, but let's just get warmed up a bit, shall we:
1. If you are eligible for Social Security and/or have "Poligrip" or "Denture glue" on your shopping list, you have gots to go!!!
Why the fuck are you still working? In Politiks?? At all???
We need new, fresh, blood...we need new people, with new points of view. We need these 'old' people (and I mean no disrespect), to leave these seats and these jobs, not only political jobs, to people who have spent years in college, getting educated and have new visions to continue with progress. I would make a law, obligating people to retire at a certain age. Do you have any idea how many young professionals are unemployed??
2. If you commit a crime against a child, any child, any crime...it should be punished with torture. Fuck life in Prison, fuck death penalties. Torture. Torture so sick, so perverse, so upsetting, that they will want to wish death upon themselves and not be able to do so. In fact...now that I think of it, any crime should be punished more severely.
What?? You stole something?? With what hand?? Ok. Dude chop his left hand off. What?? You don't want your hand chopped off?? Bitch, you shouldn't have stole then.
What? You raped a child / woman/ person? With what? Ok. Dude go chop off his..eehhh...you get the picture!!
3. I would actually help the fucking middle class, that actually pays for all the shit in this country. I don't know how it works in the states, but the middle class here in Puerto Rico is fucked. We are not eligble for any government help, because the government thinks we are rich. But then you see the 'po' people riding in brand new cars with rims, rocking the ice, satellite tv, nails done, hair blow dried, shopping at Plaza las Americas (our biggest and most 'in' mall)...
WTF??? Of course they can afford that. These people don't pay rent, utilities, nothing!!!!
While middle class is fucked paying for everything!!
4. I would remove all 'middle people'. I need no person to write up MY speeches, my public statements. I need NO ONE to tell me what to say, when to smile, when to hush up and when to pee. We never fully get what the person is about with all these people changing and transforming everything you do. All we get fed is a bunch of shit written by other people.
And as a Bonus: I would ban the 'stuffy wardrobe'. I mean, I am not going out to address the nation in my "Bling Bling"-Icey-jeans-and-baseball-cap, but don't ya' think that the tie is a bit too tight...that sometimes they hate what they have to wear, that sometimes they'd like to address the nation in their BVD's!!!
Lord knows I would...
But on a serious note, there are many-of-things I'd like to change if I were in charge, and it costs nothing to dream...
What would you like to do if in charge???
"Do you know it's your fault I'm not getting into heaven??!!" Empress
::quickly looking up...because our conversation was being interrupted::
"Excuse me, may I take your order"
We were out having a late lunch.
Empress quickly dishes out the lunch orders, which the poor guy didn't understand and had to type in like three times.
How complicated is Popcorn Chicken, fries and Pepsi!!!
For some odd reason, the guy gave us Kid Meal Toys.
2 green grasshoppers.
Empress quickly opened hers and tried without much luck to arm it. Our cashier thought he was cute and quickly came up to her:
"Want me to help you?"
"Give me a sec to figure it out"
"Want me to help you?"
"Give me a sec!"
Voila!! Empress got it together....
But cashier boy tried to be funny and show us how the grasshopper hopped. This action, causing the grasshopper to dismantle.
"You've killed my grasshopper!!" Empress squealed
"What was his name?" asked the cashier
"What name!!! You didn't even give me a chance to name it!!"
Me, laying low, in the background, head down, trying not to laugh and squirt mucus out of my nose.
"Oh the poor thing!" cashier guy.
"What's your name??" Empress
The guy responds with his last name.
"No, your first name" Empress
"Then this is Jose the grasshopper"
Voila, and there it was. Jose the Grasshopper.
I need not tell you that I almost peed on myself on my way to the table and when the music was a lil' too loud, Empress did not hesitate to use her new friend's name and yell out:
"Hey, Jose, turn down the music a bit!"
Lunch is never this interesting at the office.
Thank you all for those get well wishes. Yesterday I flew the coop early, got me some OTC medicine and took a nap on my mom's bed. She gave me her pillow and her blanket not without first stating:
"Fine...Go ahead..spread your germs...what the fuck!"
Aw. Aint' nothin' like a mom's luv.
She even arranged for my dad to pick up Miss C, she bathed her and gave her dinner.
I hate to state that Miss C isn't looking too hot either. She seems to be sick also. We are just one big huge GERM!!
After spreading our disease downstairs we decided to head up. My mom took Miss C, while I climbed up with the portable potty.
When we opened the door, there it was. It hit us like a 95mph fastball by Mussina.
"Eeewwwww, what the hell is that? What is that smell???"
"It smells like garbage...."
"No it doesn't. It smells like vomit...!!"
Ain't nothing like the smell of vomit to make me feel better.
It smelled like if someone had bottled up the fresh scent of vomit and made an 'unfreshener' to spray around the house. My whole housed had the stench. We searched everywhere for it's departure point, Nada.
No exact spot to pinpoint the stench. It was equally strong everywhere.
We opened up windows and doors and I lit up every Godforsaken candle in the house. Eventually at bedtime, the stench left.
But in one of the many potty trips I did last night, which let me just make a parenthesis here:
I went to the potty to pee like every 2 hours last night!!! WTF was that all about?!!!
Well, anywhoot, on my first potty trip, there it was AGAIN!!!
WHAT THE FUCK...?? WHERE DOES THIS STINK COME FROM?????!!!
"A" had called during the evening and suggested that maybe it was a dead rat.
Man, I know what a fucking dead rat stinks like...it stinks like decay...it doesn't stink like vomit after eating a corndog, having 3 beers and riding the ferris wheel!!
My house smells of vomit.
This morning when I went to take a shower the stench was unbareable. I had to turn on all the fans....and hideaway in my bedroom until we had to leave and me and Miss C hauled ass for that front door.
The stink isn't coming from the plumbing...sadly and oddly enough...it seems to be coming from the walls...
I can't have like a totally demoned possesed house that has blood squirting down the walls.
I have to have this bitch-ass house that has vomit-farts coming out of the walls.
I swear if I come back home and that house still reeks of vomit...I will take my father's advice and I will set that bitch on fire..!!!!!!!!
::slams fist on desk, removes clothespin from nose::
I will refuse to live in a house, where a gasmask is required attire!!
Thought of the day: Neverunderestimate the power of a house!
In my household, as you might have already guessed, things run a tad differently. My dad, the one who goes out to work everyday, doesn't have a say in "Shit", except the raking of the leaves bit. He is, and I will quote him literally:
"A zero to the right, a shit, a worthless piece of crap who cannot rule in his own Goddamned house. I will burn this house one day, because all I am good for is raking leaves!!"
Bravo. You gotta give credit to the guy for at least acknowledging the truth.
My dad couldn't be the 'man' of the house, even if he wanted too. The guy can't even put in a lightbulb. He does 'girly' chores. RE-Wash dishes (after my mother has washed them), RE-clean the stove, Re-everything. His Obsessive Compulsive Disorder makes him act this way. He even has a post-coming-home-from-work-routine:
1. Take newspapers out of briefcase
2. Change into pink worn out shorts.
3. Clean all the counter tops, dresser tops, remove all 26 nail polish bottles from my mother's dresser and clean them one by one.
4. Clean TV Set.
5. Fold underwear
6. Look at list of what to wear for the next day
7. Make Tie Knot.
8. Polish his shoes, only after he has removed them from their original box and each individual shoe bag.
9. Clean Jewelry
11. Paint nails
12. Clean living room
In a house that is as spotless as a whistle when he gets home.
Then and only then, will he sit down to eat.
A man like that, can never be the 'man' of the house.
My mom is the one who is always handling the house issues, such as leaking ceilings, broken fixtures, etc. etc. So she has auto-proclaimed herself "Man" of the house and made it very clear, crystal-fucking-clear, my dad will never bare such title.
Here's my mom's way of acknowledging that also:
1. When my dad wants to talk and we don't let him, my mom says:
"Oh Please, can't you see we don't care!" or "There he goes again with one of his grand adventures"
2. When he wants to give an opinion on an issue.
"Shut the fuck up, your opinion doesn't count"
3. When my dad, on very rare ocassion, wants to cuddle:
"I don't know what's worse, having you in a bad mood, or having you lovey-dovey..eww, don't you have some leaves to rake??"
4. When my dad is upset because someone broke something:
"I broke it (even if she didn't), you got something to say about it!!"
My dad always takes the hint and very seldom does he talk back. He is one obedient puppy. When my mom gets on his nerves, he usually finds his way up my stairs and confesses he is just sick of it. But frankly I could care less, he is a basketcase, they all are.
My dad only cares about two things: that his socks match his tie and that he can get home in time to polish his shoes.
My mom, on the other hand, only cares about two things: Making sure she reigns as 'man' of the house and World Domination!
if the second one, ever happens, believe me, we are better off having my dad as "man", at least we'll all be color-coordinated in our Polo Shirts and Docker Slacks!
"It's never over for the Yankees," Mora said. (Melvin Mora, Third Base for the Orioles)
My sentiment exactly. Yesterday we were losing in the sixth inning....and then Damon came in and made an RBI double that tied the game and then it all went downhill for the Orioles from then on...
Making it a 6 to 3 win for us.
Thus increasing our lead in the AL Standing over Boston by three games...
But as Aimée says: It ain't over until the last inning...and we are headed for a long ass weekend, 5 game series with Boston....
Bloggers bare with me. I will be posting about this...and I will be rambling...
On other news: I am feeling sick...physically sick. I can't feel my left arm, my body aches and I just feel like crap. I think it's stress related. Well feeling this sick and on my way to work, "A" (Yes "A" is still alive)called. He was in the area and wanted to see me. When he realized I was not feeling well he quickly offered to get me some breakfast and juice...
*insert 'Awww' here*
Empress. hush up. I know what you're thinking.
Today's thought of the day:
When in doubt: lie
After last night's 'internet boyfriend' battle...my dad came upstairs and tried to make me feel better:
"You know you're mom has been quite crazy these past few days...she's been quite craze since Friday. She said she was sick of being here. Did you know that? Did you know she was crazy?? Do you think she needs a doctor? You can't talk to her these days without getting your head chopped off! I think she is sick".
This coming from a man who rakes leaves under severe rainstorms. This coming from a man who has to sit in the same chair everynight at dinner or else he will have a titty attack.
I think we are guilty of being crazy in this household.
In baseball news I've been out of circuit..haven't seen a game in days..but I read the paper, people. I know that Boston lost last night and the Yankees won. So I'm watching, from afar, but I'm watching.
Aimée sent me a link so I could see the sexual offenders in my area. I wish she hadn't...There are a few who live in my neighborhood. I will never go out to the corner store without my glock, again.
In Potty updates: Miss C is pulling down her own underwear and has understood all too well the "Cause & Effect" routine. She knows that if she does potty she gets a prize. Yesterday she sat on the toilet, didn't do nothing and said:
I look at her and go:
"Prizes are for actually 'doing' potty, not just sitting down on the toilet."
She looks and tries to go potty and says:
"Momma I can't, but I sit, prize!!"
sly. sly. sly. kid.
But I got my point across and when she finally went potty she took me to the toilet to see and then, only then, did I give her a prize.
Today was her first day of school. After some transportation speed bumps, we got everything squared and she starts her therapies right away today. She did not cry. She did not scream. She waved goodbye and told her teacher that she goes potty.
She is a big gal indeed.
As for me, my boss it outta town...I have the office to myself, but Hurricane L. did not leave without reeking havoc on my desk and leaving enough work for about a month!!
I'll probably procrastinate until the week before she gets back....I'm Puertorican. Procrastination is in my blood...
Today's thought of the day:
Fashion should always come first. You don't wanna die and be wearing worn out flip flops!!
"Why do you do on the internet so much?"
Mom says in a very, very suspicious tone...like "you-are-14-and-i-am-wondering-if-u-play-hooky" tone...
"I use it to watch pornography" MOI
In most 'annoyed-get-off-my-case-don't-speak-to-me-in-that-tone' tone
"I'm serious, keep joking..keep mocking me...but if by any chance you are looking for love on the internet and you go meet some stranger and get kidnapped, raped or godforbid murdered, don't say I didn't warn you!!!"
"If I get murdered, I guess I won't have a chance to".
Mom very offended:
"Fine...I can't touch these subjects with you!!"
Dad chanting in the background:
"La la la la la...you have an internet boyfriend!!"
Me slighty annoyed:
"Oh Fuck Off".
Just another evening at dinner.
"Mom said no squirting water in the ear!!!" Moi
"Well your mom aint' here is she?!!"
::Person squirts more water into ear with water toy::
"I said, mom said no FUCKING water in the ear!!" Moi
"Why do you have to curse at me!!!! I'm telling your mother"
Who was the asshole squirting water in my ear in the pool?
This was our Sunday afternoon. Miss C, My Dad and I in the pool, squirting water at each other, bickering and eating hot dogs. Then my mom and bro joined us for a while. We bickered over who got what hotdog. My dad and bro bickered over which beer each was drinking and why my bro wasn't sharing his beers with my dad. I bickered cuz my hair was getting wet. We all bickered together in unison.
My mom's take on the whole event:
"This is one fucking bizarre family".
Amen sister. Couldn't have said it better myself.
Wise Wise words.
Back to bigger and better news:
We are still on Poty Duty. We've accomplished one round of successes and prizes.
Now if we can only convince Miss C to wear underwear, we'd be all set.
Yesterday was another gal's night out. Only this time, Empress and I flew solo. Hit the same spot as last week. I convinced my mom she'd be well paid if she stayed with Miss C. So we hit the spot and laughed and laughed and danced and danced. The X was there and we hung out and danced and he even paid for our Cokes! Our friend, the guy who almost fell last week, tripped over a cable and unplugged the music!!!!!
"Damn C. You always wanna shine, don't ya!!"
I jumped up and down and screamed and bobbed my head and just went all out, while Empress kept on kindly reminding me that I was wearing an almost $100 pair of new shoes and that I should treat them accordingly. I'm sorry, what can I say I get carried away at times.
Empress as always, has the wonderful luck of having people always want to meet her. I don't know if it's her serious 'get-the-fuck-out-of-my-face-look' or the fact that she is pretty...could be both. I'm guessing it's number one...curiosity always kills the cat.
We were sitting on the couch commenting on a couple that looked reaaaally out of place. The place we were in, is a lounge type vibe, pool tables, comfy sofas, lots of hip hop, dancehall, just cozy laid back. This couple looked scared. They looked like they came from the country (no disrespect to country folk), it's just the fact that they did not look like the type of people who listen to : "Punks jump up to get beat down" or "Give me the light and pass the dro"...know what I mean...?
Mintues later, the guy from the couple steps up to Empress stating that him and his wife wanna meet new people. (hmm..if you ask me...it sounds like they wanted to find someone for a threesome). So Empress calls in back up..she gets our man C. to serve as the Intermediate Man. So they keep switching messages back and forth. And I'm in a corner fanning myself with a flyer because I was nearly in stitches with all the laughter....
It probably reads pretty boring here, but live and direct...I thought I was gonna pee my pants....
So around 4am we decided to leave....dropped Empress off and headed for my lil' empty bed to sleep and rest....
So that my dears was my weekend....Next week I'm planning to chill, relax and hit the video store....my feet can't take another weekend...I'm not 18 anymore ya' know!!
On an ending note, my boss it outta town again until the 27th so I'm a free woman...!!!!!
She'll be leaving tomorrow so I ask all you out there who believe in a worthy cause to please pray in order to get that woman on the plane and that she doesn't put any hair products or gels in her handbag...so she can pass through security quickly and get the hell out!!
Sure, we all have people we'd love to meet. Celebrities, athletes, fantasy people, icons, etc.
I have my regular generic list of people I'd like to meet and questions I'd like to ask...but I also have my fantasy wish list...some of whom I think won't be so fantasy in a nearby future...so here is my Friday's Four Meet & Greet Edition:
1. Snoopy. Dude what the fuck is with you all the time? What's so Goddamn funny? What type of pot are you smoking and where can I get it? Why do the adults always sound like this: blah blah blah blah? Do you and Woodstock have a thing? Do you tie Charlie Brown to the bed at night and do sick things to him? You look like the dominatrix type. Please tell. In all honesty, I think you're hot.
2. Dora the Explorer. What etnicity are you? Cause you talk Spanish, your parents and you look Mexican but you seem to live on an island. Last time I checked Mexico isn't an island. Is it Puerto Rico? If so, are your cartoons subliminal? Is Swiper the Fox, really a representative of our politicians? If not...where the fuck Do you live?? I saw the palm trees, I see the banana trees...dont' fucking lie!!
3.Babe Ruth. Boston will always regret what they did to you. And I applaud you for cursing them forever and ever with the "Curse of the Bambino"...but uhem...just so you know...you kind of slipped a while back...try to stab a few more pins in that voodoo Boston doll...Thanx..you're a sweetheart.
4. Satan. This dude I'm pretty sure I will meet. Come on...I know I'm getting the VIP table. I would just like to ask him: Am I still getting the VIP table??? Any guests I should be aware of? What's the dress code? I know it's cool attire, but is there any formal wear I should know about? Are we allowed hand fans? Are you sure I can't have an A/C installed? It's low a low energy consumption one and only 5,000 BTU's. Can I call you Lucy? (Lucifer)
What's your fantasy Meet & Greet list?
There was a mosquito on my mother's inner thigh last night, re-e-e-a-a-lly close to her 'whatitsface', so I did what any loving-caring-sick-daughter-of-a-mother-sucker would do:
I slapped the shit out of it.
My mother's take:
"What the fuck did you do that for??"
"You had a mosquito sucking on you, close to your you-know-what"
"Well I'd rather take my chances of having the mosquito sucking my you-know-what off dry than it not working ever again!"
Needless to say I cried from all the laughter.
But deep down inside I was hurt. What an unappreciative woman.
The Potts: Day 4
We have 5 stars so far on our potty chart. We need 2 more to redeem our prize. Day care has notified that there have been two # 1 type accidents and 2 successful # 1 type trips. Last night at home, we took her twice and she did her duty. After all the peeing...(that's what it's called!), I decided to take a chance and watch some of the game. I kept getting up every 2 mintues to remind Miss C her duties as official "Potty Princess".
"Where do we go potty??"
"In da' toilet!" Miss C
"Good, Dont' forget".
Next thing ya' know Miss C comes up to me and asks me to take her hand, her way of telling me she wants something.
"Wanna go potty Miss C?"
"No, momma, come look"
So I'm guessing she wants me to go put on some random "Wizard of Oz" movie scene (we've been down the yellowbrick road more times than I care to remember this past week). She instead takes me to the bathroom and points to her toilet.
"Look momma!!" she exclaims
And. There. IT. Was.
Floating in all its glory, in all its splendor.
She had gone to the potty for #2 all by herself.
Who would have ever guessed or imagined that I would be so excited to see a turd in my toilet. It hurt me to even flush it away.
You guys are soooo lucky I don't have a camera.
Of course after the celebration, I decided to bend the rules a bit and give her a mini-prize. And boy was she happy.
I was happy too. At least for those 30 seconds, cuz last night as I was pulling plastic dinosaurs out of my ass, I actually thought I would've been better duking it out with my floating friend from the toilet.
Oh. Glory. Days.
"Hahahaha!! It's mine...!! ALL MINE...MY PRECIOUS!! The last fucking popscicle and it's all mine!!!"
::circles in delight::
"Gee, this popscicle tastes real good" bro
"Yeah...well fuck you very much".
Boys definitely have the cooties....
::proceeds to finish off her bro-saliva-ridden-crayon-shaped-pop::
I don't know who ever told my boss that Broadway-esque-musical-chicago-style-wizard-of-oz-grease-musical (again for emphasis), christian music is a good thing for office ambience????
You guys should really hear this...it's all Broadwayish..I can just see Jesus now prancing about the stage in his tights....
"Christ I know you can hear me...I only did what you wanted me to do!!"
a line from Moses
from the upcoming musical play: Jesus is Bigger than Broadway
Damn you Konerko & Dye!!
Damn you Ozzie!!!
We lost. It was a hard game..went into 11 innings...but we lost...fuckity fuck.
On a positive note, even Big Papi's 41st homer couldn't save Boston from losing yesterday....
Ok. back to the poop..err..I mean post...
I wasn't made / meant for Potty Training Patrol. My patience is limited and my willingness to wanna scream my fucking head off every time I see we've failed, drives me bonkers.
I know, I know, this takes time. I know because of her condition things are double as hard. But we've been through this potty training biz 4 times!! and she is 4 years old...!! This buying diapers business is killing my pocket...
Damn you Pampers Cruisers!!
Yesterday we had two accidents at day care and at home after two good "go's" to the potty, we went upstairs. Half a hour later, I was in my laundry washing poop underwear and p-jamas...
"*&^%$#@!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm missing the fucking Yankees!!!!"
I kinda of went overboard and scolded Miss C....she immediately started to cry and ask for her grandma...part of her skills learned at Manipulation Academy. I stunk of poop, I was missing the game and the last thing I needed was her crying so loudly at 10pm....
I consoled her and instead threatened she would have no stars if this pooping thing didn't take off the ground....I've got a schedule, a time table, I've got freshly painted nails...I can't be scrubbing poop.
I then felt compelled to tell about my adventures to everyone that listened...everyone said I am being to harsh...
Ok. So we are not in Germany. Fine. I can't be Hitler. Ok. I get it.
But pray for me folks...cuz this is gonna be a 'funky ride'...and by all means I mean literally...!
"The people should not be afraid of the government. The government should be afraid of it's people"
V for Vendetta
Never have I heard such a true statement regarding politics in the current era. Never have I felt so sad to admit that the government is not afraid of the people.
Why? Because the government knows the people's flaws, faults, likes, dislikes and knows how to tweak them in every single way possible.
We are reliving the era of the Three B's (Baile, Botella, Baraja) implemented by the Spanish Conquest. We are the land of makebelieve, the land of never-ending parties and holidays. I am not whom to complain. Who doesn't like having a few extra days off.
But the people are easily persuaded by music, free things and fun. They are blinded by promises accompanied by a free-t-shirt and/or merchandise. They are easily swayed by music, whichever music is in style, a couple of years back it was the Macarena, these last few years it has been reggaeton, and enjoy seeing the crooked politicians dancing and cheering. With a swerve of the hips and a smile here and there, the people believe the hype.
We are conditioned to be numb. We are conditioned to forget quickly and enjoy the music, food and drinks while they last, or at least until a new politician gets elected. We are conditioned to forget and forgive insults on our intelligence, culture and rights, in exchange for promises of a better tomorrow, dancing to the beat of the "Gasolina".
We are driven into an economic crisis, forcing us to eat fast foods and junk to further demolish our physical and mental state of mind, because things that are good for us, healthy for us, in all of the ways known to man, are unattainable to middle and lower class. We are driven to charge up our cards to keep up with the modern trend, to get that plasma TV, to get those rims to get those nails done. Who gives a shit if your fridge is empty? We have to get pimped first.
You think the government doesn't take note? You think they are not noticing this ignorance on our behalf. Like they say in my native tongue: Por eso nos dan por donde nos gusta.
Everyone is upset with the skyrocketing costs of gasoline, the ridiculous changes in the Board of Education, the never-ending stories of corruption, the hiatus we lived through a couple of weeks back with the government shutting down all operations due to personnal vendettas....everyone is upset.
For like 30 seconds...or until elections come round' and they swerve their hips to Daddy Yankee or Calle 13....until they can hypnotize us with the groove and give us free shirts to buy our silence....to buy our content....
Who can be afraid of a government who gives out free stuff?
What government can be afraid of a bunch of lab rats, like us?
it's a win/win situation....
But somehow...I always feel like I'm losing...
I am still recovering from my hard partying on Saturday...
Been on the phone quite a bit, replaying saturday and laughing our asses off...
I told ya' I wasn't gonna write about this Empress, but might as well..
Seems like we have an addiction to Myspace now....::rolls eyes::
Empress we have serious problems...as if we weren't surfing the net around enough...Nowwe have profiles on Myspace and gab through there....
Good part: You won't believe how many old friends are on there...and you wouldn't believe how hard we have laughed the last past half hour....
In other news, I haven't been following my team lately....but I see we play the White Sox tonight...Aimée..we're ready...and we're comin' atcha'...
Why haven't I been on bloggin' duty, or baseball duty, or reading other people's blogs???
Cuz I'm on Potty Duty.
Yep. Potty Training has begun...
Hell, we can start a Guiness World Record for the number of attempts to potty train.
So far...in three days: 2 oops!
It has even gotten my creative juices flowin'...
I have made a Potty Chart...everytime we get Miss C to use the potty she will get rewarded with one star. After 6 stars she will get a prize.
Ain't nothin' like a little manipulation to get her going.
Who says money can't get you to the potty??
I'll keep ya guys posted....
I know you don't care...but I don't care if you don't...so I WILL post potty updates...just read after lunchtime if ya' feel queasy...
Today's thought of the day, brought to you by the movie: V for Vendetta (which rocks!!):
"The people shouldn't be afraid of the government, the government should be afraid of the people"
"Sorry Miss but we can't let you in"
"But...I am 27!!! Don't you people believe me!!"
On the only night I have a babysitter (Thanx X), for a gals night out, I leave my wallet and the bouncers don't believe I'm overage.
I don't know if to be pissed or be very very amused and grateful they think I'm a teenager...
At that moment I was borderline both.
"But I know the DJ"
Bouncer cocks his eyebrow
"Yeah..and his sister. Her birthday party is today, here!"
Then, Angels from Heaven came to my calling...The Birthday Gal aka Becca comes out.
Bouncer goes: "Becca you know these gals?"
Becca opens her eyes wide and gives me a big hug...
"Becca they won't let me in, cuz they think I'm young"
"Oh Please!! She's older than I am"
They let us in and off we go.
Me, Che, and Empress.
Three gals on a mission to dance till our feet become unglued from our legs.
The Untouchables are back in biz (That's a long story, but "the untouchables" used to be our nickname)
Best hightlights of the night:
1. Seeing some old pals...having them be happy I was there
2. Seeing a fight break out...Men with Pool Sticks (or whatever they call the rods you play pool with), acting out like Darth Vader and Obi-One, hilarious!
3. Hearing some Good ass ol' musique that made me remember lots of things!!
4. Having a gal I didn't know, a gal who likes gals, compliment me on my style.
"I just wanted to tell ya' I like your style...My name is..."
She was probably hitting on me...but having a stranger, a female stranger compliment you. Awesome...
5. Seeing Empress pull out her "i-have-a-fractured-foot-so-i-can-not-dance-wit-ya" signature move on a guy, that later caught her dancing and asked me:
"Didn't she have a fractured foot?"
My take: "It's a fucking miracle!!!"
He later tried to dance with me and get his 'groove on' but when he saw he wasn't gettin' some from none of us, he moved on to an ugly ugly subsitute...
6. Seeing our pal, Sage, trip and fall on his knees on a Ottoman with his arms spread out wide.
"I'm the king of the world!!"
"Ya'll ain't seen nothin'"
We had a bad ass time...I got home at almost 4 in the morning...and I didn't wanna leave...but I had to go before my SUV turned back into the Deathvan....
The ambience, the people, the musique. All was crazy hot. They even played the Bee-Gees...and I danced my lil' heart away in my black platforms...
Now I am back home, trying to get over my aching legs from the non-stop dance fest...
But it was all worth it!
Here are the rules:
Once you have been tagged, you have to write a post with 8 facts/things/habits about yourself and say who tagged you. In the end, you will need to choose the 6 people you tag and list their names. No tag backs.
Ok. So here goes:
1. I am a bookworm...that is the main reason I am almost blind.
2. I tend to hold grudges.
3. I have a good memory for faces, but a shitty one for names.
4. I can't sleep if I know there are dirty dishes.
5. Sometimes I forget to do something, go do it and forget I did it and go do it again, only to find out I had already done it.
6. I have two toes that are slightly webbed.
7. I own many pairs of shoes I've only worn once. Shocking I know...
8. I hate driving. If it were up to me, I'd definitely have a chaufeur or whatever you call the dude who drives ya' around.
There ya have it...more tidbits about me...So here goes the six people I tag:
2. Empress, of course!
So it's your turn to fess' up!!
You said I'm gonna buy this place and burn it down
I'm gonna put it six feet underground
I'm gonna buy this place and watch it fall
Stand here beside me baby in the crumbling walls
Oh I'm gonna buy this place and start a fire
Stand here until I fill all your hearts desire
Because I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn
And do back the things it did to you in return
You said I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for
Oh and I'm gonna buy this place is what I said
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head
A Rush of Blood to the Head
Suicide Bomber kills 21
Beirut Attacks Continue
Those are just some of the titles that grace our paper's World News Section, waaaay in the ending pages of the paper, where no one really seems to turn to.
Sad. Ain't it.
What's my take?
I have no take.
I think it's all wrong, from every standpoint.
I think it's sad that no ones gives a shit unless Oil is involved, so everyone can keep on driving their 4x4's and big ass Excursion's on their lil' driveways in their picket fenced neighborhoods.
I think it's depressing to know that my daughter is gonna be stuck with this piece of crap world and that there will be little for her to do but sit back and watch.
It sickens me to see all these images of blood-covered children being carried and mourned.
It embarrases me to see all these things and hear people call themselves humans. There is more humanity in a rock.
It's a vicious circle...he said, she said. Everyone wants domination at whatever cost. Everyone wants everyone else to think alike. If that was "God" or whomever's intention from the beginning, he/she/it would have made us all alike.
What is wrong about being different?
What is wrong with having different ideas, cultures, religions, sexual orientations, etc???
What is the deal with this big ass POWERTRIP?
It's easy to say, well that doesn't affect us. Like Art said, and may I add, he was the inspiration for this post, many people say that, and wonder that until they have children, then everything changes. For me, I would say things changed when I went to college and actually mixed with all sorts of people and fed on all types of situations. I realized that you can't force anyone to think like you, or to be like you, there are ideas hardwired into each and everybody's brain, that can't be re-wired. But I also realized that with this difference there has to be a level of respect and understanding and most of all that:
Everything, EVERYTHING, in the long run affects us.
In a place and time where we have technology so advanced we can talk to anyone, anywhere, we can download music, movies, we can see people through webcams, we can have blogs and touch different lives around the globe, it is sad to see we are condemned for :
Thinking Outside the Box
I don't know if this make any sense at all...it might be some non-sense contradictory babble. But it's my babble.
I once wrote an essay titled : Politiks and Bullshit
That title is still so fresh and appropiate.
As always, before I get to the post:
We won yesterday. And Boston lost. Although I gotta admit the game had me on ends (yeah, I watch my Rival's games), for a minute I thought they might win. Kudos for the effort. Aimée, I saw your bro yesterday, extra kudos for trying to win it for the Team.
Ok. So now to the nitty gritty.
Men are creatures of wonder. We can't live with them and can't live without them. We often complain of the lack of men on this planet. That is not true. There are plenty of available men. But their "Wooing skills" are all wrong. You men need to brush up. I especially frown on the 'traffic-wooing-skills'. But, instead of pointing out the things you should do to woo me, I will give you my Friday's Four of "Non-Wooing-items", so here are four sure-fire ways NOT to win me over in traffic:
1. Sit in your car, with your windows rolled down and be wearing...::gasp:: a shirt made out of "Net Material". Why?? Why would you try to wink at me and make passes in traffic with a shirt that can double as a mosquito net?? And might I add, you get extra minus points if it happens to be in a funky color like "yellow".
2. Give me the 'googely eyes' while two fuzzy white or black dice are hanging from your rearview mirror. Do I even have to explain the idea I get of you with these dice hanging from your mirror??
3. Have a sticker that reads: "Don't criticize, your daughter may be aboard" or the one that has the two bunny rabbits gettin' freak-ay! Very Very Impressive.
4. Wink at me and then smile to reveal you are missing two or more teeth (why not ONE or More?, because I am missing a molar in the back. If it is not visible, I'll let it slide). Hey, Johnny Depp pulled it off as Jack Sparrow.
Reality Check: You are not Johnny Depp.
So there ya have it...wanna woo me in traffic, make a mental note of these guidelines, and maybe, just maybe I'll crack a smile for ya'....
What are your traffic wooing/ or regular wooing dont's ??
Thought for the day: Things are always complicated. When under a lot of stress, tell people you are seeing flying monkeys, that'll get them off ya' back for a while.
I hate you blogger!! U ate my freakin' post...you complete bastard!!
::straightening up blouse::
I am over it.
As I said before..
"..the heart of rock'n roll is still beatin'"
Huey Lewis is what's playing in the house radio...
I used to like Huey, but what is it with this 80's comeback bullshit??!! I swear if I see shoulder pads I will puke!!
We won last night. Again. Me loving Chien Ming Wang...bout time we had a decent pitcher. I was kinda feeling sorry for the Blue Jays. We clobbered them in the 6th, with 6 runs and they kept changing pitchers and kept screwin' up. They were so young and so hot, I kinda wanted to take them in my arms and tell em' it was gonna be allright. It's not their fault...::whispering:: we are on a winning streak.
yeah Aimée, your team, barely, won last night too.
Chris is barely doing shit. Some showers here and there. Great for me, being that I am almost blind. Rain just makes me wanna be a better driver.
I'm off. I have to put to paper this post I have in mind, and I have Friday's Four to think about. If you have any suggestions, feel free to post.
Today's thought of the day:
We humans are the most annoying creatures on the planet. That is why God invented Pets. I unfortunately have no pets.
::makes mental note to buy fish::
Last night I had a dream. Not a Martin-Luther-King-esque dream, (although right now, that speech is soooo needed to be reminded), but a real dream.
No demons, no witches, no madmen hunting me down to kill me, no wings, no angels. A good ol' dream.
I was working at my first job, surrounded by my first employers. It was a wonderful dream. Yeah. I used the word wonderful. Sue me.
Take note, this is a coming of age story so if you are not interested in flashbacks and lovely stories of my past, click on the "X".
::playing whimsical chimes and flashback music::
My first official job was the one I got when I started college. After filling out several applications, my first call was from an Athletic Footwear store. I quickly said yes to the interview and was hired on the spot. I was estatic. A job at a sneaker place!! Discounts!! Discounts!!
I worked with three other men. Three other Older men. Two of them married with children and the Manager, aka "The Boss", (which is actually the nickname I called him to his face) was divorced. They baptized me "Baby Girl". I was the only girl and the youngest. I would come to work with my cheery disposition, with my turtle backpack named "Benji", my books, and read my lil' heart out.
My boss would make me cover my ears when they told dirty jokes and they all looked out for me. One of my co-workers and I, established a bond. We were like the killers on the sales floor. He showered me with affection. Locking me in the bathroom, locking me in the window display, hiding one of my sneakers, dragging me all over the floor by my feet, punching me, hiding my lunch, all kinds of nice ways to tell someone you luv' em. I didn't mind. We were having a grand ol' time.
We all became very close knit, my boss would call us "The Dream Team". In a very lil' amount of time I became a full time employee and more responsabilites were handed over. With time I also changed, I was no longer the book worm. I transformed into the party-all-the-time gal. I traded my books for naps on my lunch break and my turtle backpack for glam purses. But I always made sure I did my work and they respected my change. Heck, I was growin' up. They even let me listen in on the dirty jokes. And I had my revenge on my co-worker for all the years of pranks. For instance, when we were stuck doing inventory in the back, I would always finish first and go hide in one of the huge boxes in the back towards his area, and when he approached it, I'd jump out, causing him to shit his pants. He then changed my nickname to "Lucy" as in Lucifer. My boss never believed him. Until one New Year's Eve he caught me and my co-worker coming out of the corner bar with drinks in our hand. His take:
"Noooo!! It can't be Baby Girl!! You've ruined her!!"
Lil' did he know I was already ruined long long time ago.
We all formed this special bond and with all our jokes and stuff, we never lost respect for one another, we trusted each other like fam. I knew the life stories of all these three men: how my prankster pal was going through a tough divorce, because his wife cheated on him, how Shorty Asistant Manager had financial problems and a lil' gambling habit, hell, my boss even confided to me his stories about being a Puertorican Gigalo and how he slept with many married women on his off days.
But times change and so do circumstances. The Regional Boss wanted to break us up. He moved me to another store, to work more hours, under the grueling eye of an asshole of a new boss, I eventually met my current boss (she was a frequent customer) and bid adieu to my days of selling sneakers. I had been working there for almost 4 years. My old boss quit and went to work in the Pharmacy Industry. I completely lost touch with my prankster pal and the other people at my job. A couple of months ago, I found a way to call my former boss, he was surprised to hear from me and what my life had become, he still greated me with:
"Hey Baby Girl!! How are you??"
He even offered me a job. He said he wishes I was working over there for him.
Those carefree days are long gone. But I still hold on tight to those memories. I still have my turtle backpack, I still have a fondness for sneakers and I still remember those people who came in my life and watched me grow up, all while I was getting great sneakers with 30% off!!
Before we get to Chris: Aimée...ahem...ahem..::clearing throat in order to give kick ass announcment::
Um..I think we are in first place in our division...Boston is in second...tsk tsk..
That's ok. Shit happens.
Ok. Back to Chris.
Like all men, Chris has decided to take his sweet time and almost stand-us up...
But he'll be here. Late. During the night, when he has partied all he's wanted to and come and shit in our lawn...
We are gonna be having lots and lots of rain this evening and tomorrow...
For now, we have a very very sunny and hot day...
As for the rest of my boring ass life, well...Miss C started daycare yesterday. Amazing enough, she did not cry.
She did put on a "What-the-fuck-am-I-doing-here" face...
She has also learned a very new self-defense mechanism.
She'll put her fist up to your nose and say:
Sometimes she'll add: "Smell the pow-pow".
I am so glad she is learning so quickly. Mommy's lil' girl is growing up.
It's amusing now, but when she starts school and starts letting people smell her fist, I don't think I'll be too pleased.
Yesterday at home, while we talked about storms, politics and crap, I was busy on a side project that required scissors..,
I go and ask the least indicated person for a pair.
"Dad, do you have some scissors I can borrow?"
"What do you want scissors for??"
"So I can eat them"
"You eat scissors now?"
::slaps forehead with open palm::
why do i even bother.
A storm is on its way. The first of the season. His name is Chris. How do I know since I do not read the "weather" part of the paper?
My dad of course. Mr. Weatherman brought home all the maps, trayectories, satellite images, you-name-it-he-brought-it, home.
He called my office today: Have you seen the latest proyections?? I hope we get a lot of wind!!
WTF? Are you a moron??
I hope we do get a lot of wind, so I can tie you to the electricity post out front.
How you like them apples?
Empress called, talking to me about some music biz she wants to do with me...
I tell her that there are other priorities, like "Chris" right now?
"Who the fuck is Chris?"
get them sit-ups' riding...get your tummy tucked in...
Seems like my mother has joined the 'get thin' bandwagon.
Now let me set the record straight. My mom isn't fat. She just has a big ass. When I mean big ass, I mean BIG BOOT-AY!
The kind of bootay that deserves it's own zip code, the kind of ass that would embarrass you as a kid, because everyone would tease you for it...
"Damn E. your mom has a big ass!!! How does she do it?...u know sit down with that big ass" Hardee har har
Thing is..my mom has a rockin' body...I wanna have her bod at her age. She has always had a teeny tiny waist, huge hips and a huge ass. As a child I would hate going out with her, because men would always make comments and whistle and be assholes.
Over the years, she has gained some weight, precisely in her ass, her waist is still small, but her hips and ass, oh boy.
So anyway, today as I was going to work, I walked in on Jane Fonda...err...My Mom, in her red tights, black sleevless t-shirt and white tennis shoes. She was doing laps around the coffee table, listening to the Mexican Singer, Talia (Tommy Mottola's wife).
Her take: I've gotta run these laps....I need to get in shape!!!
My take: Yeah sure, just take it easy round that coffee table, Jane Fonda...
Her take: Jane Fonda?? Who's Jane Fonda??
My take: Forget it...she's some excersise freak.
Her take: Yeah?! Well fuck you.
And she kept on trotting...
I hope when I get home I don't find her collapsed on one of those coffee table turns, they're a doozy.
Thought of the day: People who have nothing to do, who call you at 8am to 'talk' need to do something...like watch Maury or something.