Friday, May 30, 2008

I'm Missing Battlestat Galactica For This?

Yes I was and Yes I am.

Michele (Sister2) finished up 2 days of a lot of test today. MRIS EMIS CKGS and everything else,

Funny when you have no idea what is going on it's easier to be positive.

"Well we just don't know could be an ingrown toenail"

But as the this week went by and the tests were coming in the back of my brain occasionally I slipped into "WORSE SCENARIO MODE"

Sheri and I being alot alike I figured she was going through this as well.

So we just talked for an hour.

Michele came up and what we will do if it's bad news but mostly we talked about how we are a family and how we will be there for each other regardless if Michele has bad news or I get hit by a bus tomorrow and they have to deal with me being gone.

I know you are probably tired of hearing this but I have a great family which frankly alot of times I'm not sure I deserve.

But we'll pull through whatever happens to any of us.

While part of me is sad and worried another part of me is feeling very grateful at the same time.

So I guess I'll catch up on BSG tomorrow after golf and deal with a brand new day and see what happpens.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Play Time!

Ok the chores are done.
Bills paid, groceries grocered, laundry done and all the other non fun stuff.

Now it's no worries until Tuesday morning.

Gonna spend the rest of the day at the deck bar with friends, got a steak in the fridge to grill out tonight and tomorrow the tee time is at 11:27

I'll be going back to my cardboard box under the overpass of teh innertubes starting tomorrow.

Been a fun week here on teh island.

Hope everyone has a great weekend.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Phriends...

... are the best thing in the world to have.

Thank you Steve, Christina, PD, Ralph, Jen (especially) and all the rest of you for being mine.

(this post brought to you, in part, by Absolut Vodka - but it's the truth, nonetheless)

In Case You Are Wondering

The movie "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" doesn't get any better just because there is nothing fracking else on TV.

Now you know!

In other words...

Holding Pattern

I'm supposed to be moving in, what? Like 48 hours? And yet there's no point in packing anything. Repeatedly carrying things to the car till it's full and driving down to the apartment on the appointed day(s) makes more sense than putting stuff in big square boxes that won't fit in the back seat. And which I don't have anyway. The boxes, I mean.

I don't even know for sure when it'll be, since my plans say "Monday" but my future landlady kind of needs to call me back and say when she'll be available for general contract-signing and deposit-paying and key-presenting before I can really be sure.

So here I sit, making scones and reading Douglas Adams and letting the girls watch all the Muppet videos they want since I can neither think of, nor motivate myself to do, anything more productive than that.

Which I guess makes a kind of sense, but you have to reeeeally want to see it. Rather in the same way that this probably makes sense, should one care to think hard enough about it:

Check your Voice Mail or We'll Call the Cops on You!

My Sister-the-PhD-Student, herein after called STPhDS, lives by herself in Southern Texas. She has very regular habits, some of which are talking to my parents regularly if not daily, obsessively keeping her voice mail cleared and being on the computer.

So, earlier this week, we heard from her on Monday and then...nothing. No word at all. We called and her voice mail was full. We kept calling all Thursday and early Friday and we got nothing. We e-mailed and no response. We really started to get worried.

My dad was planning a trip 4 hrs south to her house to go check on her which I described as moronic when they refused to call the police to do a courtesy check first. I guess they saw it my way and called the police. Seriously, what is white, middle-class privilege for if not to use when you have it?

STPhD lives alone, as I said before, and is about 5'0" tall and 110# if she has rocks in her pocket. (To illustrate, she was THRILLED in 4th grade when she finally topped 50#. No, I'm not kidding. For comparison, The Boy is in the first grade and weighs 62#.) She happens to live in an area of the state that is as red as blood and is not quite the Typical Girl Next Door; instead she seems to be attracted to that type of girl. This worries us greatly. I'd feel so much better if she'd move to Austin, personally but that just isn't possible right now.

The police did a good bit of detective work, following her car registration to her PO box to her new apartment address. They found her car in the parking lot and were checking the VIN number against what we had given them. (My dad sold her the car so that's why we knew that information.)

STPhD, putting down the book that she hadn't been able to put down all week, looked out her window and saw someone messing around her car so she went to grab the baseball bat she keeps next to the door for just such an occasion. (Because a pocket-sized lesbian with a baseball bat is oh so intimidating, you know.) There was a knock on her door and she opened it.

There was a fully uniformed police officer looking down at her.

He said, "Call your mother."

Friday, May 23, 2008

The Best Night of the Year

I was so fortunate to spend time with J and M tonight and their 2 daughters who I call my nieces even though we are not related by family ties.

Katy, the 3 1/2 year old wanted to climb stairs and who am I to refuse her? She is at that great stage where you ask her something and when she answers you have no idea what she is saying so you go "Hmmm Really? That sounds great" and of course she then points at the stairs and she knows what YOU said so there is no backing out.

And then little 4 month old Natalee. She was kinda squirming in Daddy's arms and for some strange reason I offered to hold her (well not a strange reason she is a beautiful and wonderful child)

So I held her and she was a little sleepy but for the first time she put her little head on my shoulder and trusted me. And we walked around a little, I talked to her (sang to her when we were out of earshot of everyone else)and just had a great time.

Yes there was a little drool on my shirt. Yes my arms were a bit tired after holding her for so long.

But even her Mom and Dad said they had never seen her be so calm with someone other than them before.

I can't describe the feeling of knowing this small little person trusted me, she knew she was safe with me and that she had nothing to worry about as long as I held her.

I've gone through this before with my own nieces and nephew but its so nice to feel it again.

I think it's called.......hope and that there is something worth fighting for.

It's Katy and Natalee and everyone else who trusts US who instinctively know we love them.

So I am going to get out of bed tomorrow and keep fighting.

Can we do any less?

Thursday, May 22, 2008

We Need Bleach the Splotchy Virus Wont Go Away

Becca has given me the virus again!

Here are the rules for the virus directly from good ole Splo-krakakow himself!
"ere's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.

If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five
participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.

Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours.



A begining by Splotchy:
I had been shuffling around the house for a few hours and already felt tired. The doorbell rang. I opened the front door and saw a figure striding away from the house, quickly and purposefully. I looked down and saw a bulky envelope. I picked it up. The handwriting was smudged and cramped, and I could only make out a few words.

Becca adds:
I opened the envelope tearing it from the top and pulled a thick bunch of papers out. The papers looked strange almost as though they were glowing, this caught me by surprise and I dropped the papers. They scattered as they fell a slight breeze blowing them accross my porch. I wanted to turn around go back inside but curiousity got the better of me and I picked them up once again, struggling against another gust of wind to pick the last piece up. When I was finally had all of them I said on a chair and started to read...well I tried to read...they had writing unlike anything I'd seen before, strange undecipherable symbols. I gave it a second try hoping there would be something I would recognize among the pictographs and the paper started to glow again and the more I concentrated on it the stronger the glow became until it was so bright I could barely look at it. I turned away for a moment to sheild my eyes and when I looked back the pictographs had vanished leaving instead English, honest to god, plain as day English... I read the words aloud without even realizing what I was doing...

"You may have already won...won? Won what?" I asked a saucer like shape descended into my front yard.

And now my contribution:

"As I sat there with anticipation of meeting beings from another planet (or maybe another dimension or ZOMG BOTH) I started thinking "What would I say to these marvelous beings who were soon to invade my house?

And it came to me? The most important thing to our Democracy, dare I say it, to the fate of our Mother Earth.

I looked into their 7 eyes (well 6 one eye was on the back of their heads) and proudly exclaimed "Do you think George Bush is a great President or the greatest President EVAH?"

If you want the virus pick it up and run with it.

Strange Family Currents

For some reason Father is driving Sister1 NUTS and I am the appointed relief valve (which I am glad to be)

A little background is in order I guess.

Dad turns 74 on June 4th. And we are lucky he is happy, healthy and doing ok.

Sister1 retired this week (at the age of 52) after working for 28 years for the Texas State School System where she worked her way up to unit director.

A little more background. The Texas State School System ain't really schools. It is a nice metaphor for mental hospital.

The woman is a saint (and some people say growing up with me gave her great training for her line of work)

So anyway Dad is getting older and has a lot of time to worry. Sister1 just wants to spend a month not worrying about anything until she figures out what her next step in life is.

And here I am as non-partisan therapist.

I don't mind the role it's just kinda new.

When I was young I never really thought about me getting older or my siblings, or my parent(s).

And now I'm having discussions with the Sisters about "what happens if?" (and y'all know there are a lot of "ifs" in our family right now)

And that's a good thing. It's just odd as me and the Sisters turn into the Parents and Dad is now the one we talk about thinking about "his future".

I'm lucky we have a strong family and I know we'll make this adjustment as we have all the others it's just kind of a weird feeling.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

The Frog-ification of the Passat Has Begun!

So I get home from work tonight and the this was in the mail




Once again I'll proudly be able to proclaim my Horned Frog Heritage.

Now once I get my window sticker in the mail I'll be all set!

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Random Python Island Video

Amazing you type in Monty Python+Island you come up with a sketch even I had forgotten about!


Monday, May 19, 2008

Thank You

THANK YOU BOB
THANK YOU BFNADC
THANK YOU BRAVE SIR ROBIN
THANK YOU LINDA
THANK YOU FREIDA BEE
THANK YOU OUYANGDAN
THANK YOU TEH PORTLY DYKE
THANK YOU JEN
THANK YOU MOTORCYCLE MAMA CHRISTINA
And thank you to everyone else who stopped by and sent good thoughts.

Sister2 talked with her oncologist today and he was not all ZOMG!11!!eleven10!1!

Does this mean she is out of the woods? No but truth be told she never will be. She'll have a full battery of scans, MRI's and whatever else soon.

But as my wise friend Christina said to me earlier tonight it means we have HOPE

And you my glob friends contributed to that.

If I had anything other than Gnat Piss Budweiser I'd raise my glass to you.

Hell I am doing it anyway.

Thank You so much

Steve

(cross posted at my other cardboard box)

The Island Gets the Splotchy Virus Again

Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.

If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.

Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours. -Splotchy

I had been shuffling around the house for a few hours and already felt tired. The doorbell rang. I opened the front door and saw a figure striding away from the house, quickly and purposefully. I looked down and saw a bulky envelope. I picked it up. The handwriting was smudged and cramped, and I could only make out a few words. (Splotchy)

Despite the throbbing pain in my knees and the dull ache in my lower back, I bent down slowly and picked up the envelope...

Oh no. It did not say this, did it?

Oh yes, it did. It did.

The handwriting was familiar in a way that inspired a cold sweat and a bout of nausea. It was the penmanship of my former husband. You know - the one that was presumed dead.

He disappeared in a suspicious blogging related accident a number of years ago and was never heard from again. I was devastated. I had hated the blog, loathed the thing. What began as a hobby that took but a few minutes a day had morphed into an addiction, the proportions of which could not be measured. It was pure evil.

The blog turned into a cruel and demanding mistress and her siren song was more than I could compete with. One day he left for an evening event, never to return again.

All fingers pointed to one blogger, but I could never get the charges to stick. That one is slick- slick, slick, slick. He can talk a good game and write like nobody's business. But there is something about him, it just is not right.

So my husband was gone, that other one kept blogging and I had to rebuild my life, which I did.

So I finally had the bastard declared dead.(FranIam)

I took the envelope inside and got out a magnifying glass. I studied the scribblings on the front and made out the words “This is for you. You KNOW why” just above the undead bastard’s name. What the hell?

What could it be? What did he mean, I “KNOW” why? What did I do? I had never been anything but faithful to him and his "interests." I followed his stupid blog as it meandered through the vapid expanses of his small mind, trying my best to be polite when he talked about some comment he’d gotten on a particular post, or a funny link he’d dropped into a post.

Just thinking about it made my stomach hurt.

Despite a fleeting fear that there might be anthrax powder in the envelope, I opened it and pulled out the contents. (dguzman)

A noodle, a meatball and one of the six legs of a squid? (Squid have six legs, not eight, right? Unsure I rushed to my computer to ask The Lord Google. OMG, I was wrong! Squid do have eight legs. And two tentacles. Like cuttlefish. I digress. Damn you Google!)

What was he working on when he had that blogging accident? I thought back to the nights of feverish typing. The nights the keyboard fairly reeked of despair, flopsweat and ricola. He would babble "vision quest" "noodly appendage" "the alpha and the semolina" "green sticky spawn of the stars". This last I just attributed to far too much interest in the pussy photos of Britney Spears.

In shaky handwriting was the couplet:

That is not dead which can eternal lie.
And with strange ├Žons even death may die

I felt that I was beginning to understand. He had been killed in an epic battle of Good versus Not-So-Good or even "meh!" (Jess Wundrun)


Shakily, I set the envelope down and wiped my hands on my jeans. I got up immediately and headed for the fridge, from which I pulled a recently-opened carton of the cheapest wine I was able to find last time I went shopping, raised it over my head, tilted my head back, twisted the cap, and greedily gulped down about two liters of forgetfulness.

It didn’t work. Or maybe it did, because when I woke up that evening in a puddle of cheap wine and bitterness, I couldn’t remember how I got there or how I had gotten so desperate in life to be drinking wine from a cardboard box.

Oh yeah, him.

It was dark outside, so nobody noticed when I stumbled into the back yard and peed against a tree.

What? Holy shit! I must have been drinking cheap wine for more than just tonight! I’d completely forgotten I was actually male!

I raced back into the house and found a utility bill amongst the pile of unopened mail on the kitchen counter. Then, I extricated my wallet from a jacket pocket, pulled out my driver’s license and compared the two address. They didn’t match. They weren’t even from the same state! What the…. Who the….

And then it dawned on me. I’d spent so much time recently reading other people’s blogs, I had somehow managed to take on the identity of a female blogger. Cripes. What have I done!?!?!

I looked again at the address on the utility bill. The name read “Michelle Malkin”. And then I looked on the back of the envelope that had been left on the front porch. Rubber-stamped were the words, “From the office of the Democratic National Convention”. Time seemed to suspend itself while I headed back to the fridge, looking for another box of cheap wine. (Commander Other)

Because all I could find in the fridge at this point was a moldy orange and a styrofoam container of questionable leftovers, I decided it might be a good time for me to get the hell out of there. This "Michelle Malkin" might be behind my current identity crisis. I was vaguely starting to realize that I must have been hypnotized. But, why? What in the world would Michelle Malkin want from me? Some visceral image of a diaper and an airport bathroom was starting to come into focus, the discomfort of which made me happy to distract myself with the prospect of... escape?

I had keys in my pocket to a car in the garage that I didn't recognize and I got in the car and drove instinctually toward what appeared to be a down town area. I decided I had to get myself to a hotel room and a location with internet access to find out who this Michelle Malkin was and how the hell I ended up in Dallas, of all places. (Freida Bee)

Instead of a hotel I cut through the fence at Six Flags and slept for the night in the log plume ride. Wet but comfortable. I-30 was a mere moment away and I could change direction and go to Ft. Worth instead and eat BBQ'd cow until the cows came home.

Once in Ft Worth I met up with a Kay Baily Hutchinson outside the the Colonial Golf Course. Boxes of wine were everywhere

She on one side of the fence and me on the other all she would say is "All will be revealed" and then shanked a 3 iron into the rough.

Confused I got back into the car and drove. My destination unknown. (Pidomon)

I found myself on the campus of the University of Texas at Arlington and from the smell of sweat and abject fear, I knew it was Finals Week.

Kay Bailey Hutchinson was there too and drunkenly attempting to hand out flyers to the scurrying, worried looking students. They did not have time for another, as they thought, wingnut religious activist trying to get them to give up their wicked ways and birth control pills.

In a daze at the strangeness of the day, I took a flyer. What the hell, right?

Dear Mr. Cunning Runt:

Thank you for contacting me regarding wage discrimination in the workplace. I welcome your thoughts and comments on this issue.

On May 29, 2007, the United States Supreme Court issued a decision in Ledbetter v. Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co. which set a powerful precedent concerning discrimination in the workplace. The Court ruled in favor of Goodyear by a 5 to 4 margin, citing that Ms. Ledbetter had not filed the lawsuit within the required time frame of 180 days following the first instance of wage discrimination. By failing to do so, the Court found Ms. Ledbetter was not eligible to file suit based on gender or race discrimination.

Two bills regarding this issue have recently been introduced in Congress that would broaden the definition of unlawful employment discrimination. H.R. 2831 was introduced in the House of Representatives on June 22, 2007, by Representative George Miller (D-CA), and S. 1843 was introduced in the Senate on July 20, 2007, by Senator Edward Kennedy (D-MA). Echoing Ms. Ledbetter’s argument before the Court, these bills provide that if wage discrimination has occurred, it continues every time the affected employee receives a paycheck. As such, passage of these bills would effectively nullify the Supreme Court decision.

I believe all forms of discrimination are wrong and therefore support strong enforcement of our nation’s existing anti-discrimination laws, such as Title VII of the 1964 Civil Rights Act, the Equal Pay Act, and other federal laws aimed at preventing discrimination and expanding opportunities for all Americans. While both bills have yet to come before the full Senate, please be assured that, if either do, I will take your views into consideration.

I appreciate hearing from you and hope you will not hesitate to keep in touch on any issue of concern to you.

Sincerely,
Kay Bailey Hutchison
United States Senator

284 Russell Senate Office Building
Washington, DC 20510
202-224-5922 (tel)
202-224-0776 (fax)
http://hutchison.senate.gov

To signup for Senator Hutchison's weekly e-newsletter, please send your request to newsletter@hutchison.senate.gov.


I couldn't help but wonder if her newsletter was another way of her taking entirely too long to say precisely not a damn thing and why the hell I would want to "signup" for that when I had children I could listen to taking forever to say absolutely nothing.

I have children? I have children! And not one, but more than one, hence the -en ending. Wow! I wondered who they were and where they were at that moment and felt a thread of fear that perhaps they'd been with me when this strangeness had occurred. Did I leave them somewhere? Oh well, I thought. I wished them well and hope they'd made it home okay.

I now tag:

Brave Sir Robin
Cunning Runt
Konagod

You're welcome guys. ::smooches::

Let's Get Sirius

One of the (many) perks of teh new car is it came with a free 3 month trial for Sirius Satellite Radio.

I've never had a CD player in my car much less some fancy schmancy spy satellite broadcasting things into my receiver (unless you count that one time in college)so I signed up tonight and gonna give it a test drive.

If I like I can cancel my subscription to the horrid Baltimore Sun newspaper (which I only get so I have an excuse to stay in bed late on the weekends anyway) and stay revenue even as the last thing I need with an upcoming car payment is yet another bill to pay.

We'll see how it works out.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

The Splotchy Virus Invades Teh Island

Here's the deal:

Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.

If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.

Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours. -Splotchy


The most froodleiscious Freida Bee tagged me so here we go:


I had been shuffling around the house for a few hours and already felt tired. The doorbell rang. I opened the front door and saw a figure striding away from the house, quickly and purposefully. I looked down and saw a bulky envelope. I picked it up. The handwriting was smudged and cramped, and I could only make out a few words. (Splotchy)

Despite the throbbing pain in my knees and the dull ache in my lower back, I bent down slowly and picked up the envelope...

Oh no. It did not say this, did it?

Oh yes, it did. It did.

The handwriting was familiar in a way that inspired a cold sweat and a bout of nausea. It was the penmanship of my former husband. You know - the one that was presumed dead.

He disappeared in a suspicious blogging related accident a number of years ago and was never heard from again. I was devastated. I had hated the blog, loathed the thing. What began as a hobby that took but a few minutes a day had morphed into an addiction, the proportions of which could not be measured. It was pure evil.

The blog turned into a cruel and demanding mistress and her siren song was more than I could compete with. One day he left for an evening event, never to return again.

All fingers pointed to one blogger, but I could never get the charges to stick. That one is slick- slick, slick, slick. He can talk a good game and write like nobody's business. But there is something about him, it just is not right.

So my husband was gone, that other one kept blogging and I had to rebuild my life, which I did.

So I finally had the bastard declared dead.(FranIam)

I took the envelope inside and got out a magnifying glass. I studied the scribblings on the front and made out the words “This is for you. You KNOW why” just above the undead bastard’s name. What the hell?

What could it be? What did he mean, I “KNOW” why? What did I do? I had never been anything but faithful to him and his "interests." I followed his stupid blog as it meandered through the vapid expanses of his small mind, trying my best to be polite when he talked about some comment he’d gotten on a particular post, or a funny link he’d dropped into a post.

Just thinking about it made my stomach hurt.

Despite a fleeting fear that there might be anthrax powder in the envelope, I opened it and pulled out the contents. (dguzman)

A noodle, a meatball and one of the six legs of a squid? (Squid have six legs, not eight, right? Unsure I rushed to my computer to ask The Lord Google. OMG, I was wrong! Squid do have eight legs. And two tentacles. Like cuttlefish. I digress. Damn you Google!)

What was he working on when he had that blogging accident? I thought back to the nights of feverish typing. The nights the keyboard fairly reeked of despair, flopsweat and ricola. He would babble "vision quest" "noodly appendage" "the alpha and the semolina" "green sticky spawn of the stars". This last I just attributed to far too much interest in the pussy photos of Britney Spears.

In shaky handwriting was the couplet:

That is not dead which can eternal lie.
And with strange ├Žons even death may die

I felt that I was beginning to understand. He had been killed in an epic battle of Good versus Not-So-Good or even "meh!" (Jess Wundrun)


Shakily, I set the envelope down and wiped my hands on my jeans. I got up immediately and headed for the fridge, from which I pulled a recently-opened carton of the cheapest wine I was able to find last time I went shopping, raised it over my head, tilted my head back, twisted the cap, and greedily gulped down about two liters of forgetfulness.

It didn’t work. Or maybe it did, because when I woke up that evening in a puddle of cheap wine and bitterness, I couldn’t remember how I got there or how I had gotten so desperate in life to be drinking wine from a cardboard box.

Oh yeah, him.

It was dark outside, so nobody noticed when I stumbled into the back yard and peed against a tree.

What? Holy shit! I must have been drinking cheap wine for more than just tonight! I’d completely forgotten I was actually male!

I raced back into the house and found a utility bill amongst the pile of unopened mail on the kitchen counter. Then, I extricated my wallet from a jacket pocket, pulled out my driver’s license and compared the two address. They didn’t match. They weren’t even from the same state! What the…. Who the….

And then it dawned on me. I’d spent so much time recently reading other people’s blogs, I had somehow managed to take on the identity of a female blogger. Cripes. What have I done!?!?!

I looked again at the address on the utility bill. The name read “Michelle Malkin”. And then I looked on the back of the envelope that had been left on the front porch. Rubber-stamped were the words, “From the office of the Democratic National Convention”. Time seemed to suspend itself while I headed back to the fridge, looking for another box of cheap wine. (Commander Other)

Because all I could find in the fridge at this point was a moldy orange and a styrofoam container of questionable leftovers, I decided it might be a good time for me to get the hell out of there. This "Michelle Malkin" might be behind my current identity crisis. I was vaguely starting to realize that I must have been hypnotized. But, why? What in the world would Michelle Malkin want from me? Some visceral image of a diaper and an airport bathroom was starting to come into focus, the discomfort of which made me happy to distract myself with the prospect of... escape?

I had keys in my pocket to a car in the garage that I didn't recognize and I got in the car and drove instinctually toward what appeared to be a down town area. I decided I had to get myself to a hotel room and a location with internet access to find out who this Michelle Malkin was and how the hell I ended up in Dallas, of all places. (Freida Bee)

Instead of a hotel I cut through the fence at Six Flags and slept for the night in the log plume ride. Wet but comfortable. I-30 was a mere moment away and I could change direction and go to Ft. Worth instead and eat BBQ'd cow until the cows came home.

Once in Ft Worth I met up with a Kay Baily Hutchinson outside the the Colonial Golf Course. Boxes of wine were everywhere

She on one side of the fence and me on the other all she would say is "All will be revealed" and then shanked a 3 iron into the rough.

Confused I got back into the car and drove. My destination unknown.

I hereby infect the following:

Bob
Christina
and Linda

Mental Health Day

The most ambitious of my plans today is balancing my checkbook.

Other than that if teh rain stays away I will probably hang at the deck bar this afternoon thinking about nothing and doing even less.

Gonna hang out here this week. Somehow right now being on an island seems like a good idea.

Hope everyone has a good Sunday.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Saturday December 28th

I was going to write about my first trip to a *GASP* gay bar tonight and was unsure if I would be boring you yet again with that story (bottom line I was insulted,INSULTED I say, no one asked me to dance)

Unsure if I had typed poorly about this before I started scanning all the posts here and went all the way back to the beginning.

I wish I would have saved Jen and Bob's email explaining how I could possibly be posting on 2 blogs.

There was Portly's first post. Christina's very valuable lessons in Bad Parenting.

And even an occasional post by Dutch the Lucky Monkey.

The Island is a great place to be.

So glad Bob decided to create our little island hideaway.

If you have some time I recommend scanning the older posts. It's a nice trip down memory lane and a great sign of things to come for all of us.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Dont Want To Go To Sleep

because when I wake up tomorrow it will be Mother's Day.

And I won't go into a long drawn out diatribe but what I really want to say is this.

Thank you to my friends here who have given me an outlet for talking about Ma, put up with me when I babbled drunkenly on about her and how much I miss her and most importantly have had my back when i've been emotionally not as strong as I should have been.

Love You All

Beasie

Thursday, May 8, 2008

A Mom Chats With Her Son

2:11 PM me: Hi, Buddy!
The Boy: hi
me: I got an e-mail from [The Boy's teacher].
2:12 PM He says, "Tell him to feel better soon."
2:16 PM The Boy: i will talk to you later
me: Why?!? Don't you want to talk to your mama?
2:17 PM The Boy: yes.
me: Yes, what?
2:19 PM The Boy: yes i do.
me: What is on the TV?
2:21 PM The Boy: jonny test.
2:22 PM me: Is it good?
2:23 PM The Boy: yes.
me: What is next?
2:27 PM The Boy: i am playng a game.
2:28 PM me: What game?
2:31 PM The Boy: a ninja game.
2:32 PM me: Cool!
Are you winning?

12 minutes
2:45 PM The Boy: can you stop texing me.
me: Yes.
2:49 PM The Boy: thak you.

Pido Command Central


Yes THIS is where the magic takes place every night.
Impressive aint it?
Still wondering how I could afford TWO TV trays but I sacrifice for the innertubes. I really do

Sunday, May 4, 2008

My Groove Back? Maybe

I think I have mentioned before (and yes a real blogger would insert a link here)that growing up in the stone age before I-Pods, HDTV, cars that were rolling entertainment centers and if you wanted to change the channel in the teevee you got up off your ass and turned a /wait for it/......a DIAL ZOMG


And in this prehistoric time we rotated grilling out on the weekends at each other's houses.
And this "grilled" into me (man I make myself laugh sometimes)that when you had a place to call home it wasn't home until you had a real grill.

AND knew how to cook on it.

Lots of years and state and city regulations later after my first grill (long story involving Jessica, Houston and all that that I don't feel like getting into) when I bought my cardboard box that I now own the first thing I bought was a grill.

And then ignored it.

Something has changed lately. I'm getting back to cooking out.

Just a burger or hot dog or some chicken. Nothing much.

But maybe it is a start to getting someplace I need to get back to.

And you know what? It hasn't been the worse food I've ever grilled!

Saturday, May 3, 2008

Update on Mean Mom

Monday: Shirt and pants, no shoes, hair and teeth a mess, no breakfast.

Tuesday: Shirt pants, shoes and socks, hair and teeth a mess, no breakfast.

Wednesday: Completely dressed, breakfast eaten, teeth brushed, hair looking like Jen's bird nest.

Thursday: Completely dressed, cleaned up, no breakfast.

Friday: Completely dressed, cleaned up and breakfast eaten. Mom running late.

/sigh/

This Is One of Our Future Leaders

The Girl had a parade to be in today for Cinco de Mayo, so she had the Probe. She drove it to the high school and parked it in the band parking lot. Remember, she was at the high school. This will be important later.

We had to turn in the rental today. When she was done at the parade, she had to come and pick us up. So the following conversation took place.


Me: Girl, come pick us up at Enterprise Rentals. It's at GP Ford.

Girl: I don't know where it is.

Me: Okay, you take High School Dr. to Beltline and take a left. You got that? You know where Beltline is?

Girl: I think so. But...I'm still trying to figure out where High School Dr. is.

I literally took the phone from my ear and stared at it for a minute, trying to figure out where I had gone wrong.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

LOST Closed Thread

ZOMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!eleven!QWSW@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@