Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Countess, Duchess? Whichever...

I know this is no where near the designated 24 hour alloted period of the "Crazy But the Cool Kind" time. I try so hard to stick by this so I can follow along with my fellow human race. Because if there is one thing I strive for (and my nearest and dearest) can totally attest to this, is the thing I work hardest for is to appear "normal." Really, it's what I care most about. What others think. Not.
You know who else doesn't?
Those crazy ass "housewives" or what ever they are of NYC. Straight up whack. I'm sorry, I need to throw this out there but is Kelly on some sort of new narcotic that hasn't been released to the public yet? Seriously? First of all, I think I missed the first couple episodes but who is she anyway? Is she someone famous that I don't know? Should I be reading some early morning celebrity website to figure this out (yes I'm talking to you). I don't get it. Sure, she's pretty, in that maybe/maybe not a transvestite sort of way but other than that, who is she?
For those of you whose dogs don't watch RH of NYC you might want to skip this and read my enlightening "I'm Itchy," post found below. BUT...for those of you who do, let's chat. Kelly-yay or nay? What about when she said that child having arthritis was "cute." Um...okay Missy, let's quit while you're not ahead. You don't need to go from there to inviting Bethany out and acting a fool too. Or is it a pre sweeps things? Maybe it's just a hook?
I don't get it though. For real. What was our newest character, Kelly trying to say at her meeting with Bethany? She said a couple things but nothing completely made sense except for the fact she just didn't like her. Oh well. As I stated in the previous post, I am itchy, perhaps if I could find out what she is on I could bypass that and go straight to kooky. I think that's better than itchy but I'm not positive... Honestly though, didn't she seem a wee bit out of it as she was stumbling over her answers. Bethany totally won that little cat fight. If there were t-shirts I think "Team Bethany" would be the big seller.

And as much as I think I have said enough already, there's Simon. Oh for Christmas sake, Simon. I don't like to give any category a bad name, but hello serial killer. He is just one basement dungeon away from a thriller. I'm just sayin'. Wouldn't it be so crazy if he was pulling it off while taping a tv show? God! What idiots those producers would look like. I think I visibly cringed last week when he and that odd wife were at a clothing store and he gestured AND said on national tv, "So, the hem sits right below your breasts." Simon! Please! Stop it, you're crazy and weird and you make my skin crawl. Ramona with the eyes is right, you're creepy.

I don't need to start in on Ramona. She's kinda jumpy but at least she's honest. Honest in a crazed out for blood type of way, but she doesn't like Simon so she's got something going for her. She is "nice" though. Okay, Ramona, let's just go with that.

I think I should just leave it that. Am I the only who, I mean, whose dog, watches this?

The Beatles

"I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink
I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink
I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink
No no no." (Well, maybe...)

Whenever I am tired this is what plays over and over in my head. Again and again. And I am tired all right. So tired, I haven't slept a wink. Okay, well to be honest, last night I slept a little better than usual. It's been a couple weeks.
I'm on steroids.
Yes, to bulk myself up. I'm going to be in a weight lifting competition and I need an edge. I'm not that big you know.

I have an allergy of sorts. It sucks. It makes me itchy. I don't know what it's from. I'm not using new detergent or soap or shampoo or anything. My doctor called it idio something or other because the proverbial "they" might not ever figure out exactly what's causing it. I guess "they're" idiots. Cool. Next I'm off to the Allergist. I'm hoping for lots of needles. That sounds like fun. Almost as much fun as going halfway to insane on no sleep and steroids while itching away through the night.
My neck itches right now.
Maybe an acupuncturist. Maybe at tattoo artist. Maybe whoever can make it stop. Suggestions? Bueller, Bueller?
Mark B. are you enjoying this nonsense? Let's see... would we rather read about Mickey getting smacked upside the head "Cesar style," or me and my itching? It's a toss up. Both are fun subjects. Both have something of importance to offer the world.
Not as much as Lora and her 3 degrees of separation from Kevin Bacon. This was a good one. You should go read that. It's much more interesting than my skin disorder.
I think I should take those Beatles advice now. :)

Actually THIS is really cool. Go check it out. For real. You'll like it. You! I am talking to YOU! Not you, you. :) Some seriously cool pictures of the world...not my dog Mickey.

Monday, March 30, 2009

What Was Mickey Thinking?

This is from my brother Mark.

Mickey understands a lot more than he lets on.
What? Did Lori think he was stupid enough to prove in front of you that he could be trained? That dog knows exactly what he was doing.
The little bubble above his head would read, "Nice girl, that Lori, but if she thinks I'm giving up this gig to prove she's got some power over me, she's the one who needs to be trained. I'll teach her just like I teach every other misguided human who tries to control me.
I know they all think I'm crazy, but who recently got a new stuffed toy to do his 'special' dance with in front of company? Who gets that idiot city slicker from New York to feed him a thousand treats every time he visits? Who tears the trash can apart only to have Amy blame the much bigger, not-so-bright dog? Who humps the furniture at night when no one is awake so I don't get caught?
The way I see it, I get to eat, dance, play with new toys, have sex with the furniture, wreak havoc and not get caught.
Why the hell would I let some copycat dog whisperer take that all away from me? Next time she hits me upside the head, I'm going to play dog whisperer myself and get that bigger mut to nip old Lori in the rear. Think I can't do it? That dog will do anything I say if I whisper it in the right way. Just ask the neighborhood kids that used to tease me. We don't see them around here anymore, do we? That's right. Their blood is on my crazy little paws. Now, wouldn't you be doing a 'special' dance if you had it THIS good? Woof, woof, arf, arf, shake my groove thing, over and out."

And this my friends is why I love my brother. Come on. Who does this? LOVE YOU. Thanks for the blog post.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

"I'm Right, Right?"


This was all we heard as Ashley and I were clutching our stomachs rolling on the ground in hysterics as our fiery friend Lori was showing us how she has many of the same qualities as the dog whisperer. Now, let's not bother with the fact that she doesn't have a dog. She has a tv, she's Mexican and she's seen Cesar, she knows what going on.

It was Saturday night and my house was full of kids (doing God's knows what) and dogs running the joint. Ashley, Lori and I were in the living room chatting. The kids were going up and down the stairs, in and out the door, at one point Lori smelled something burning. Luckily it was only two little plastic toys Chase and his friend melted together. Lucy was searching for food and Mickey was dancing with his new baby. Lori asked me, "Do you discipline these dogs?" I just smiled at Ashley. She looked at me and laughed.
Lori says, "What? What's funny?"
"Nothing," I say as Mickey does a "special" dance with his new stuffed toy.
"Mickey, stop doing that dance in front of company." I say.
"He does NOT understand a word you're saying, you know that right? I'm right. Have you ever watched Cesar Milan?" Lori says.
Ashley and I laugh.
"He understands this," I say. Then I begin to babble incoherently to him. Just to annoy her.
"Watch me!" she instructs. "I can get him to do anything with out saying a word. It's all hand signals." Then she starts gesturing at him. He jumps up on the couch next to me with a questioning look. I keep quiet. I know what's good for me. She can't get his attention with her signals so she slaps him in the side of the head. (not hard) Still, I grab him on my lap as Ashley and I almost go into convulsions of laughter. She really has Cesar down pat. He's always slapping dogs upside the head on that show. She is not going to stop though, "Put him down! He'll listen." ( I thought the point was him not listening, but whatever) at this point he growled at her and bared his baby teeth. Ashley fell off her chair.
"What? What's so funny. I'm right! I'm right!."
Mickey sits down on the floor.
"Sit! Sit!" she demands.
"He is sitting." I say. "I don't get it."
She starts clucking at him.
Ashley thinks she has done some sort of physical damage to her lung by laughing.
Lori tells me to get my other dog (the skittish German Shepherd) in here. She's going to train her. "Listen, I don't need a law suit ." I say.
Now I love Lori but I think if Cesar knew what was going on he might smack her in the side of the head and with a law suit all in one fell swoop.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Did You Know?

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

If You Want It...

You better ask.

Seriously, ask for it. Ask God, as the Universe, ask Ra, ask whomever it is you ask for things, but ask. Ask a lot. Ask twice on Tuesdays. If you want it, put it out there. It's such a simple concept, right? Like The Secret. Like things you know already. Things that have been stuck in your head for years. The thing is, sometimes it needs to be brought to your attention. You might need a reminder. You might have gotten tripped up in life. Caught in the shuffle. Brought down by this shitty economy. Maybe it's not completely directly affecting you, I don't see how, in some way it must. People around you have lost their jobs. Stores are closing. People are just walking away from their homes. It's insane. The collective "we" have never seen this before. Most of us were probably brought up in the high times. You asked, you got. And if you didn't, you know you're kids are, because we are the generation that wants them to have EVERYTHING we didn't have. Even if it was that $120 pair of sneakers that we didn't deserve in the first place.
So where does that leave us now? Now that times are tough? Now that you might actually think about which grocery store you are going to. Maybe not buy everything that catches our eye. Vacations are cut. Out to dinner is thought about twice. Coupons are used. So many tiny things change. But change is a double edge sword, right? It can be bad. It can be hard when things aren't the same as they used to be. It can also be good, because with change brings learning. Learning to do things in a new way. And maybe, just maybe, it might be a better way. Cause you know, I am always, forever, looking for that silver lining. If I wasn't, I don't know what the hell I would do with myself half the time.
What was I talking about? Oh, yes. Ask. That's all, if you want it. Just ask for it. It's so simple. It's an idea that you feel inside yourself. You formulate it, believe it, than put it out there for someone or something else to grab on to to. Like that movie, you all know what I'm talking about, "If you build it, they will come."
And then you need to believe. Well, that's what I do. I can only speak for myself. :)

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Calling All My Angels

So yesterday's post was a song list. People ask me for these all the time. I make you CD's, I post new music, music that I spend an inordinate amount of time searching for, listening to, music that my wonderful friends share with me. Music that means a lot to me. What do I get? Nothing. Well, Mark had something to say and awesome Simple Answer chimed in. The rest of you. Nada. Luckily, although usually Lori and Ashley can't be bothered to comment they will come to my house and play with me. Like we're kids. Well, not really. I clean stuff, they chat. That's Ashley, she plays facebook and entertains me, she shaves Mickey and poses in silly positions for me to take her picture. She makes me laugh when I feel like ... not laughing. And Lori, she comes with a bag of groceries. She cooks dinner and then cleans up my kitchen. Way better than I do. Friends rock it out.

So from yesterdays post. I listed a song called Angel. I love this song, it is making this morning's class playlist. Do you hear that Asude? You're going to miss it. :( It's kinda simple but really sweet. These are some of the lyrics. This is what I think of my friends.

Calling all my angel
to rescue me
Calling all my angels
no time to be strangers.

Clouds are falling down.
Floating to the ground
Dreams are falling
like broken rainbows

Anything for you
Anything at all
Nothing is to big
Nothing is to small

I would move a mountain
to catch you when you fall
Anything for you
Anything at all

I would do anything for you

Calling all my angels.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Old, New, Borrowed, Blue...

Darkside of the Moon- Jessica Sonner
Crazy Train-Carbon Leaf
I Got You- Split Enz
Love Is the Drug- Roxy Music
Soft Serve- Soul Coughing
This is the Day- The The
How Am I To Be-The Watson Twins
Fall In A River- Badly Drawn Boy
Speak Like A Child- Style Council
I'm Not Who I Was-Brandon Heath
I'm Amazed-My Morning Jacket
Won't You Take Me Home-Peter's Cathedral
Time After Time-Quietdrive
We Danced Together- The Rakes
Portions for Foxes- Rilo Kiley
Fairytale-Sara Barielles
I'm Not There- Sonic Youth
Breathe- Frou Frou
I Believe In Love- The Storys

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Thirty Nine?

Forty eight hours can seem a lot longer at times. Don't you think? Sometime, so much goes on that when it's finally Sunday night and you're sitting down for the first time you can't believe it's only been two days.

There is a question that came to mind quite a few times this weekend.
What does it mean to be 39?

Thirty Nine. Why is that number so important? Why is any number important? You could be twenty two and angry and mean and unhealthy. Is that better than being a thirty nine, just because it's twenty two? Is it because it seems thirty nine leads into forty which could possibly be half your life? What the hell is it with this age? Or is it forty that's the bad one? I can never remember. I have to tell you, I was kind of an idiot in my twenties. Well, for a lot of them. I think at least. A lot of it is very foggy. I know for a fact I was much more insecure. I was definitely more scared of things. I didn't know myself nearly as well. Yes, my skin might have been a little tighter. My worries weren't nearly as strong but I'm stronger now mentally and physically than I ever was then. I think that has something to do with years passing and being aware that years are passing. Trying to be smarter. Smarter in '09 right Asude? In your twenties you can be lazy, things seem easier. But good is never easy right? If it's worth having, it's worth working for. I mean if you're Albert Einstein or that model Gisele, perhaps it is easy. For people not given specific overwhelming genetic gifts, we need to work a little harder. That's okay. Right? Right Twist?

I think the twenties are totally overrated (that is coming from a thirty nine year old). I think forty is where it's at now. I'm going to tell you why.

Ashley's thirty nine and I'm pretty sure she got grounded last night. It was kinda scary. Grandma Vicki was seriously pissed off. She even went so far as to leave a message on my answering machine because Ashley wouldn't answer her cell phone. You know why she wouldn't answer? Um, it was Saturday night and we were partying with our best friend forever's (who lives in Florida) brother. We hadn't seen him in a long time. He was playing the juke box for us, from Roxy Music to Nine Inch Nails. It was a whole lotta fun. Ashley, in her advanced thirty nine years decided to turn off her cell phone and be present in the here and now, oh, and the Yueng Ling. Is that how you spell it? So sue her. But please, don't call me. I had to go home to sleep, cause I'm thirty nine and today I ran a 5k with 1500 people and came in 84th. 3rd for my age group. 12th in the women. 7 of those were in their twenties. Maybe the twenties are better. Not. Almost forty is where it's at. :)
This is for you Heather. This was all I had kinda fit to print. Feel better.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

With Great Love In My Heart

I gotta tell you, this is one of my favorite sayings. Only really Twist could understand why. They used to say it in Yoga school. I might have talked about this before, long ago, no one remembers, but Twist and I did a little stint in Yoga school up in Chelsea in NYC. We went every weekend for 14 weekends. It was hard on our husbands, working and having smaller children but somehow we all made it through. Twist and I were a little older than most of them. We were also a little more jaded. If you can believe that. All New Yorkers and the two mom's from the suburbs of Philly were the biggest a -holes. You know Twist, I say that with only Great Love In My Heart.
I think "great love in my heart," is the same thing as when Southerners say, "Bless your heart," could I be right Lula? All our New York counter parts would say it when they were saying something that wasn't all that kind. It became one of (the many) favorite tag lines that came out of our whole experience. Because I'm going to tell you what, I laughed my ass off every weekend for three months with Twist. I still laugh when I think about it.

So... with great love in my heart, I am going to tell you something. You all probably know this, but it's what I've got tonight. When things seem at there most difficult, when your "moment of grace," is not quite staring you in the face, when the weather seems Spring and then Winter in one fell swoop, when your dog smells like a skunk, when you can't quite believe what you know, when any number of things that might bring the room down happen, all I have to do, even if it's for a second is think of things that I can tag line, "With great love in my heart," and I will laugh. I will get the hugest smile on my face and think back to that yoga room for 8 hour stretches looking into the very twinkly eyes of my true friend and just smile. Because a true friend is worth more than anything I could ever dream up.

A Brand New Day

24 Hours. Actually, Chris, it's been more than that on here. Ruh ro.
So, what can happen in 24 hours? A lot, right? Right Twist? Right? Right? How many times can I put the word right with a question mark in 24 hours? Maybe as many jelly beans as are in the jar. It'll be a contest. The winner will receive total consciousness when they die. Not from me of course. I hope the winner belongs to a religion that can extend that kind of grace. If not, your just outta luck with a whole lot of useless knowledge.

You know, the kind they teach at school these days. I'm sorry, it's stupid. Do you know yesterday I got an e mail saying they were thinking of removing the Science teacher from the school. They already did away with learning Spanish and both the Art and Music teacher make the kids cry. Good times. Seriously! Stop wasting time teaching them Math they can do on a calculator and start teaching them about the world. More languages, Foreign affairs. About life. It's just not the same world as it was when we were kids. There are computers. Information is at their fingertips literally (with handhelds) at any given moment. Why on earth are they still learning things that they are never going to use? You know how I know they are never going to use it? Because when they bring home their homework, sometimes I don't know what it means. Cause it's stupid. :)

I'm not teacher. Oh yes I am. I forgot. I teach yoga. That's important. They should teach yoga in school. Teach these kids how to breathe correctly. Teach them how to speak Chinese. Teach them something they are going to use. And don't for Gods sake don't get rid of the only useful subjects they have.

I will give them a thumbs up for teaching them how to read. Well done. Right?

What the hell is the name of this post? Oh, A Brand New Day, maybe I should change that because I never got to the point I was trying to make. It should be titled, "I don't want to home school Twist, but this is kinda beat."

Don't suggest private school to me either. We pay taxes. Make me happy. Oh wait, Asude, is this not all about me? :)

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

A Moment of Grace

This is from the book, "One Door Away From Heaven." I read it a long time ago. I can't remember the exact story although I know I liked it a lot. Maybe it would be smarter if I re read it and then wrote about it, but actually the whole book isn't the point. It's just one paragraph out of 681 pages. I was talking to a friend of mine today about quotes. I've written about this before. I love quotes I love hearing new ones. I love re reading old ones. I love when someone shares one with me that they think I will appreciate.

So, from the book, " It's also true-that sometimes-not often, but once in a great while-your life can change for the better in one moment of grace, almost a sort of a miracle, someone so special comes along, some precious understanding descends on you so unexpectedly that it just pivots you in a new direction, changes you forever."
This train of thought goes through my mind a lot. I don't want to miss when that happens. Do you think it's like that tree falling in the woods idea? Like if know noone hears it, does it make a noise? So, if you don't notice when this, "moment of grace," (I can't tell you how I love those three words) occurs, if you are not aware, does it change your life, or is it a missed opportunity, or could it go either way? Like all of the sudden things are wonderfully different but you just didn't notice how you got there?

It's like all the tiny things that happen that change your course of day, one way or another, good or bad. Do you think about this? I do, for instance, I hate lateness, because of the utter disregard it seems to be on other people's time, BUT (yes I'm CAPPING) it always crosses my mind that there might be a very good, never to be known, reason for that lateness. Like had you been on time, something might have gone wrong on the drive over that could have irrevocably changed your and everyone you know lives. So, maybe, just maybe, you were lucky to have been late. I know everything is not this dramatic. It's just how I think.
My friend sent me this quote today. Take it to your graves people.
"The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty."
Word up.

Monday, March 16, 2009

On Any Given Day

Me and My friend (who shall -not shant- remain nameless, to protect the crazy)

Act 1
"LOOK IT'S A FOX SQUIRREL!" she screams as she jumps out of my moving car pointing and running in my neighbors yard. I look up at the tree she is pointing and see a black furry thing. "FOX SQUIRREL! FOX SQUIRREL!" she says.
"Um, I think that's a cat," I say.
"NO! What is it? Wait, it might not be a fox squirrel. Is it a poodle."
At this point we have determined it is in fact a cat. All of the sudden it takes a flying leap (like that of a flying squirrel) and jumps about 20 feet down and runs back in the woods. Buh bye fox squirrel.

Act 2
"So, I'm waiting to hear if I got that job at Trader Joes." she says to me.
"Oh, are they going to call you today?"
"Yes, but I have to tell them I can't work this weekend cause I have a wedding to go to."
"Yeah, whose wedding?"
"Well, I didn't know if I should say that or a Christening. I want to go to that party Friday night. Christenings are during the day, right?"
"I don't know."

Act 2.5
Need gas.
Drive up. Don't turn off car. Stay on cell phone. Decide to start a smoking habit now while pumping.
Big loudspeaker guy yells.
Person inside car can't figure out why the car is still running. "We're going to blow up!" she says as she opens the door. She was afraid to open the window for fear of a spark.
My ash is as long as the cigarette at this point. I just am to lazy to flick it.
Then the gasoline starts spilling out and I throw down a lit match.
Enter bare nipple guy.

Act 3
"Look, look, that guy is naked rubbing his nipples."
"What?" (we're at the gas station) "There's no naked guy."
"Yes there is! Look over there."
(P.S. we live in Pa, it's kinda cold here)
I look, there is in fact some guy sitting in the front seat of a car with no shirt on. I did not see him rubbing his nipples, but if she says so. Ok.
"Go slow on the way out, I want to take his picture."
"Of course you do."

Act 4- The Final Insult
"I need Chianti. It makes me laugh. I need some now."
We go in the liquor store and spend an inordinant amount of time deciphering which countries wine will give you the best buzz. She decides an Italian Chianti will be her best bet.
With bottle in hand heads the cash register.
"Will that be all Ma'am?" says the kid with the hole the size of the sausage in his ear. Whatever."It is $13.95."
"Aren't you going to card me?" she asks.
"What's your name young man?"
He hid his name tag. He didn't want her to tell all his bosses.
I laughed.
"It's funnier not to card people." said the not nice boy.
Thank God she had that Chianti for later.

Bringing it Home:
When all else fails. You know what needs to happen right?
Two words my friends:
or something along these lines. You grab your kids, your crazy friend and your IPod and you dance.
Playlist for said Dance Off: You gotta go a little old school on this. Not ropes and a body bag old school Sue. Just old school.
I Got A Man- Salt n Pepa
Check On It- Beyonce
Corona and Lime- Schwayze
I Got it From My Mama- Wil.i.am.
Me & U - Cassie
Bleeding Love- Leona Lewis
Officer- Slightly Stoopid
Shady's Back- Eminem
Smile- Lily Allen
then bring down the room a little-
So Lonely- The Police
Stuck in A Moment- U2
Suspicious Minds- Elvis
Throw a curve ball
Sex and Candy- Marcy's Playground
Witch in A Ditch- Erasure
Not An Addict- K's Choice
End up Fun
Son of A Preacher Man-
Then just show her how you take the kids to church
I Love You and Buddha Too- Mason Jennings.
Closing Time-Semisonic
Night baby. That's YOU.
And Chris, I think that was 24 hours. But maybe not...

Oh wait.. Coconut - Harry Niison is imperative. Just sayin.

First sighting

A little closer. Now, I'm sorry. That's a cat.

The elusive fox squirrel.

I Shant Make My Cat Wear An Apron

There's nothing like a fake voice to make me laugh. I don't quite get why people do it, but it can sometimes be amusing. Or not.

A while back I knew this woman who had a totally fake voice. She actually talked in a whisper. It was so god awful annoying, you had to lean in to hear what the hell she was saying. It never seemed real at all, especially when she would whisper your name, "Hi Amy." Like a quiet little church mouse. Anyway, I guess she could have passed it off had my friend and I not heard her yell at her kid one day when she didn't know when we were coming in through the garage. It was like that exorcist girl, "JOHNNY (not his real name) get your ass down here now and pick up your sneakers!" Oh dear, the pussycat is more like a mountain lion. As we walked in she whispered, "Hello." Whatever. That ship has sailed.

I pretty much forgot about it until recently. I was having lunch with a friend and the wait person, an older woman seemed to be going back and forth between an English accent and not an English accent. Maybe it was all English, I don't know. I do know she quite fancied using the word, "Shant." She said it a lot. I shant do this." "You shant do that." "Shant, shant shant." My favorite was when she came to take our plates. She asked if she could clear them. We nodded yes. She looked at mine and said, "Oh I shant." Now, did she mean, A) She can't? -that rhymes with shant. B) She couldn't- cause maybe the other one was to heavy, I don't know or choice 3) She shouldn't- cause there was still food on it.

If anyone out there is British or knows anyone from the other side of the pond, could you please e mail them for me now and ask them what she meant? It's bothering me. I shant understand. I shant eat peas with a fork, only the tip of a very sharp knife. I shant lick my bowl like a dog. I shant be late to school. I shant pluck fur tufts out of my German Shepherd. Yes I shall. No I shant.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Customer Appreciation Day

In the blog world that I travel in and out of with no sense of time or mind it seems at times. That's a lot of time and mind. My favorite part (besides box o wine and my own ridiculous wit) is what you guys say. If not, I'm just talking to myself and although I find myself very interesting. I find you guys way more interesting. I beg you, start blogs, you are all brilliant. Those of you who don't have them I mean. If you already do, just stick with that one, don't make it more confusing for me. : ) But since I know some of you won't and some don't check back to the comments, every once in a while I like to put them out here. I think Kathy has won the award this week (the prize being nothing) for most ingenious little ditty. Thank you Kathy. You are brilliant.
See her song at the end.

In the comment section of our last program Sue told us of her God, Ra. How the worshipping goes, that sort of thing. I mentioned that not only would I join up but I was thinking my brother Mark would like to come. Then Mark says he is to busy doing things middle age men do. First off, let's not go there. It just sounds bad. Secondly, when I read it I almost fell on the floor laughing. Um, Mark, no your not. Nuff said. Finger to nose. Well, except that one thing where you were showing Billy the cat consultant You tube videos. That was totally normal! Well done Mr. Middle Age.

And Chris, brother Chris. I do believe you have always been the smartest of all of us (shut up Mark, you got voted best looking) and so your idea of my blog determining time is right up there with your most intelligent ideas. I know my mind is scattered. I have no sense of schedule. Days run into night. It's all the juice. I'm sorry, did I say that out loud? Mark is right. I think something, I write it. Then another shiny object comes in front of me. I get distracted and voila, new post! That does not mean I don't want to hear any stray thoughts from before.

The moral of todays blog post. I like to hear what you say. I can become annoying, even to myself.
Word up.
That's Wordica to you Jen. And Chris is right, "Where the %^%# is Jen?"

A Song By Kathy:
“In Constant Sorrow”
Sung by The Soggy Bottom Boys
From: O Brother, Where Art Thou?

(Chorus) He is my brother, O come what may

He is a man, he is my brother
We’ve been trouble all my day
He bid farewell to ol’ Pennsyl-tucky
The place where we was born and raised

(Chorus) The place where they was born and raised

For too many years, my mind has wandered
As my brothers know too well
For in this world, I’m bound to ramble
No telling what I’ll blog about

(Chorus) No telling what she’ll blog about

Mickey and that wolf Lucy
How ‘bout some road kill, or a yoga trick
Grandma Vicki’s smokin’, Kid Rock’s tokin,
And of course, demons from hell

(Chorus) And of course, demons from hell

Even you my dear boys, my dear brothers
Become the fodder for my wit
This song I did write ‘twas for my brothers
But somehow, it’s now about me.

(Chorus) ‘Bout Amy, as it should be.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

He Ain't Heavy...

He's my brother. :)

First of all, don't friggin' bicker with me in your comment, Brother That Looks A Slight Bit Younger Than You Are! And speaking of brothers, where is my other one that reads this? Off at Sue's blog commenting? Making time with my smart pretty friend's blog? The least you two could do is encourage me! Compliment me! Tell me how you love me! All my life, poor poor Amy, trying to make her brothers happy. What do I get in return? Lip. It's a sin. Against the Sun. Read on.

I mean for Goddsake my friend thinks I should be the next Nobel Laurete (obviously a brilliant, beautiful, rock star of yoga) friend! My other friend, Lora nominated me for a blog prize. BTW, you should check hers out. She's funny. Wrote a whole religious post about Jesus that just gave me a chuckle. Isn't that what religion is supposed to do? I could be wrong (it's what Mickey told me). Although I consider myself quite Spiritual I have decided until the weather breaks the only thing I will be worshipping is the Sun. And then once the sun is shining I'm gonna worship it for a while after, just so it knows I'm serious. Nothing like a slack jawed half assed worshiping session to piss off those Higher Powers. You know what I mean? Okay, wait, what was I saying? Something about brothers...

Brothers? Can't live with 'em. Can't kill 'em. Oh wait, I think that's men. But men are brothers! All brothers are men. Unless of course they had some sort of operation, but honestly if they went to the trouble to do that, they'd be on our side already. No need to kill our own.
I have severely veered off course here. All I meant to say was how much I love my brothers. More than ten sisters if I had them. More than the Sun and the Moon. Wait, not the Sun! That is currently my God. But definitely more than the Moon! Kind of. Wink WInk.

A Stellar Idea

I don't really believe in time change. Well, I guess I do, but not at 2 am the morning "they" say it. I wake up and look at the clock on my cable box. That will say 11.30. No, it will say 8.00. I think, "That's odd. That's not what time I wake up." So I look at my night table clock. That says 7.00. The real time. That will continue to be what I think until about Thursday when I accept time change.

I'm gonna be like Sue and propose a new idea. Now, I know her ideas are all high falootin, figuring out ways to save our country money and get those pesky prisons a little less crowded, you know, "fixing the system." My idea isn't quite so lofty, but I think it will appeal to WAY more people. People who might not want to live next door to her pardoned mass murderers. I'm kidding Sue. You know I think you are brilliant. So here we go. Instead of changing the clock a whole hour at a time. Cause that just throws us off. Let's start sixty days ahead of time and change it a minute each day! You know, like say on January first at 2 am it could actually be 2.01am. Then January 2nd at 2.01 am it will be 2.02am. See where I'm going with that? It wouldn't be like taking our medicine all at once. We could spread it out. No one would even notice the time change.

I know there are some slight glitches in my plan. Like, for instance, people can be stupid. They can forget to turn off their blinker if they haven't taken a hard left. How on earth are they all going to remember to change their clocks one minute at at time? My answer? Who cares about them? They're dumb, like Mickey. Tell them to go watch the Housewives. The rest of us totally got this one. They can pay the piper at the end, they'll never know the difference.
Word Up.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

I Think You Should Be A Countess

I swear to God, it's only on in the background. I don't actually watch The Real Housewives of New York City, or those one's in California or those gals in Atlanta. Never. I have heard of them, cause my Dad likes that show. I myself, will not admit to watching any of that drivel, that nonsense, that friggin' train wreck. Well...maybe once. Just for a second. Just to see how it feels. ;)

Here we are Tuesday night. It's cold again right? Well, not for you girls in Florida, you know who you are. Hanging out your laundry, collecting sharks teeth, doing all your Florida stuff. Some of us are up here in the dregs of winter. Oh, we pretend it's Spring. We get a nice day and the windows get opened, the flip flops come out, we hang the winter coat in the closet and close the door. Then we get hit with a cold blast of wind. What do we do? Do we cry? No. That's stupid. Do we curse winter? No. What would be the point? So we just curl up in our nice warm beds and either read a classic (that's what I do) but see, my dog, Mickey, he likes the tv. He can't read. He's so dumb.

Here enters the housewives of NYC. Although, technically, (if we're using exact words) they're not all housewives. That Bethany isn't married. I like her. I mean, Mickey likes her. She's funny. I just glanced up from my book, "Moby Dick," and caught her and that tall gal at dinner. Bethany was totally busting on her for being a countess. The tall one thinks being a countess is a very important gig. Perhaps it is. I don't know. I'm only a Magical Elf myself. Only by marriage, from a few generations back. I'm pretty sure that's why I can twitch my nose and dirty dishes appear under my sons bed. These women literally are cracking me up. The one, Luanne, wrote a book called "Class With the Countess." Now Bethany is all but rolling her eyes. She can't quite figure out how Luanne from the hood who married the Count of Counting from Sesame Street has more class than her or anyone else for that matter. I'm kind of curious too. Not enough to buy the book, but curious nonetheless. Well, that's what Mickey my dog/cat told me. And don't even get me started on the blond one with the jumpy eyes, she my friends, is like the cherry on top of this big crazy cake. Says Mickey...

Monday, March 9, 2009

Great Expectations

The Sun never says to the earth, you owe me. Look what happens with a love like that...it lights up the whole sky. - Hafiz

Right? Come on. How much do you love this?

I just saw this somewhere yesterday and it was funny because I had been having this conversation with a really good friend of mine just that morning. She said, "Do I expect to much out of people?"
I had to answer her honestly. I said, "Yes. You do."

She is one of the most wonderful people I know. No matter what is going on in her life she is always there for anyone. The problem is she is such a great person but her expectations of others are very high. We have been talking about the same person in her life now for almost two years. The relationship is never what she wants it to be. She has repeated over and over again, "I gave this and this and this. I got nothing."
I truly believe you need to put out the best you can be. Every day. All day. For yourself. Cause that's who you are. You can't expect anything back. Of course, you don't want relationships to be one sided, right? You have to know when to say when. Except when you start expecting people to act or do certain ways or things because you do, you might get disappointed. That's just what I think.
The only thing who you know is going to love you no matter what is your dog and your God (whoever that might be) or Higher power or just your dog if you don't fly that way. Short of that, you've only got yourself. You can only control what you put out there. Make it good. Then get yourself a dog if you don't have one. :)
I'm adding a quote Sue sent to me today too. Cause I like it. It makes me think of you guys.
What a wretched lot of old shrivelled creatures we shall be by-and-by. Never mind--the uglier we get in the eyes of others, the lovelier we shall be to each other; that has always been my firm faith about friendship. - George Eliot

Sunday, March 8, 2009

The Fireplace, the Demon and the Almost Prom Date

Here we are again with someone else's story. All I'm saying is if "someone else" would write a blog I wouldn't have to share her stories. But since she is way to busy non schooling or pre schooling or not schooling or what ever it is she does around the compound it has become my plight to share her word. I am nothing if not a faithful consort.

So she lives in what is we refer to with (let me hear you say it) great love in our heart as "the money pit," it would take way more than one blog post to describe the craziness that has gone on in her house but suffice it to say, there has had to be all sorts of rituals to rid it of bad spirits. She spends an inordinate amount of time spitting at the fireplace apparently, but that's neither here nor there.

Well, maybe a little. Speaking of the fireplace (remember when we didn't know what a fireplace was Twist?) the fireplace was the home to two stone demons. Not gargoyles. I know what a gargoyle is. These were demons, complete with horns. No one wants that in their sitting area. I think that's why she likes to spit at them. When the spitting got old she decided to call in someone to remove them. She obviously didn't trust me and a sledgehammer. So in comes "Mason guy." Now he has done work for them in the past. He is a character. Some shin length overalls covered in blood. Is that right? Some crazy hair and other oddities. But nice as nice can be.

After day one of "Operation Beelzebub Removal," she is taking a much needed nap. While lying there something flashes through her head. It is Mason guy inviting her to the prom many many years ago. Until this time she has completely blocked that had ever happened. Somewhat confused she calls her Mom to try to drum up the memory. Mommy says, "Oh honey. That did happen. We didn't let you go. You didn't even know that boy." Then other little memories start to creep in. One disturbing one of a picture being passed around school, of this maybe prom date in the outfit he was born in, wearing only a sock, and not on his foot either. A la Red Hot Chili Peppers, but way before they donned that look. Copycats.

The plot thickens as she realizes that she taught his child in school years ago. How many times have their paths crossed? She is still not sure it's him. I push her to ask him. The next day he comes to de-demonize the living room she asks him about the dance invitation from long ago. "Maybe," he says. What was your last name? She tells him, "Spiderwitch." He thinks for a while and says, "There's a big possibility. I certainly could of." That's good enough for me. It's totally him.

I'm just wondering what his real purpose is. I really believe everyone comes in and sometimes out of our lives for a reason. If you let people in they will teach what you need to learn. Sometimes the lesson is hard. Sometimes wonderful. Sometimes it's so easy to understand what it is. Sometimes it takes a while. Sometimes it breaks your heart in a million little pieces. Sometimes it makes you feel like you can hardly breathe without them.

I guess only time will tell, right baby?

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Ruh Ro...Watch Out For the Canvas Bag and the River, Kitty

Billy the eccentric, show tune lovin' cat consultant is severely lacking in his cat duties. A little less time on Betty, Billy, and stop being so picky. If you don't get that cat out of my brothers apartment someones take- out might have some fur in it.

Mark is pretty much over the cat. He's kind of had enough. Turns out the cats not only a sneeze waiting to happen, he's also kind of a pain in the ass. To start he apparently stares and paces at my brother until he plays with him. I'm not sure what this "playing" entails, but it lasts about thirty minutes and the cats still not happy.

Today Mr. Cat (who incidentally doesn't have a name, it wasn't that I didn't know it) decided to do his business while smirking at my brother. After he was done reading the paper he went over and used the couch as his toilet paper. The same couch Mark is forced to sleep on so he can sleep on the bed and Mark can breathe at night. The cat doesn't seem to have a ton of respect for Mark's sleeping quarters. Or maybe he thought it was a pleasant odor (one doesn't know what is pleasing to a cat odor wise) and decided to spruce the place up for him. Maybe he was just being nice...

After Mr. Cat (who is being with great love referred to as "Chucky" now) ripped down the shower curtain. For real. I got this information in a txt. It gave me delightful daydreams of Chucky the Mad Cat with his pointy little nails walking in the bathroom, just minding his own businesss...and then, he sees the shower curtain. What goes through his mind do you think? Maybe, "That would look better as a rug?" or maybe he just stretched his sweet little baby paw and accidentally his claws slipped out and inadvertently ripped down the shower curtain. That's the story I'd go with Chucky, I'm just sayin'.

Billy the Cat Consultant is called. He says, "No one is good enough yet for Chucky." I'm going to tell you something and it's the truth. One time I was in San Francisco and I saw this homeless man that had the most beautiful ragdoll cat on a leash. I swear to God. The person I was with (who is operating all the time on a half a brain at best) said, "Oh, look, they must have been friends forever." Um, I don't think so. It was about a $1500 cat, the guy had on a dirty trench coat, two different shoes and a beard as long as Rapunzel's hair. The cat was also pulling as far away as he could. It was a sin, for all parties. My point is, Chucky, shape up. You're in New York City. Just smile and look pretty... things could be worse.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Ashie Ashie Ashie

Oh dear, Smash is home. Home taking care of Gramma. Straight out of Throw Momma from the Train. Today there was a wildly entertaining voicemail to dear Ashley. She was just minding her own business, talking, like she does. Phone rings. She doesn't usually answer the phone, unless it's me. Right? Thank God she didn't. I'm gonna tell you what, I love Gramma Vicki, she's a peach. A little spit fire. Full of piss and vinegar. She gave Chase a brass bull. I said, bull. For real. It was really cute. We were a-visitin' and she just gave him a little present. Anyway, back to the voicemail. It went a little something like this, you have to imagine a very gruff, long time with the cigs, 95 year old female yellin' atcha, "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WHERE ARE MY CIGARETTES? NOBODY IS GOING TO TAKE ME CIGARETTES AWAY! NOT EVEN YOUR MOTHER! NO ONE IS GOING TO TELL ME HOW TO LIVE IN MY HOUSE."

Let me tell you, I agree with Vicki, I mean, she's 95, she wants her cigs. Give her her cigs. The only problem is she had a heart attack last week. Now, I'm no doctor, but I'm thinkin' cigarettes might not be the best idea? The thing is, if she really wants them, what are you gonna do? Buy her the cigarettes Ashley. Toss them through the dog door and then run like the dickens. Or perhaps just plummet yourself right off Gramma's roof before she burns the whole damn place down.

Ashley gave her the cigs. Took her hits from her, packed up her beer and stole the only lighter in the house and hightailed it out of there. And then she turned her phone off.

Off the Winter Wagon

I've had enough. For real. I get it. It's cold. It's ugly. My fingers are frozen most of the time. That stupid muskrat saw his shadow or didn't see his shadow, which ever way makes it keep being winter. That whole thing reminds me of when you hear people say, "They're off the wagon," about someone drinking. I could never remember if 'off the wagon,' was the good one or the bad one. Maybe the got off the wagon cause it was full of booze. Or maybe the wagon was full of liquor, they drank it and then fell off the wagon. It was confusing to me.

Okay, I just googled it. It seems in the 1800's (back in the day) some crazy folks decided they wanted to live with no alcohol so they campaigned for the government to ban it. Damn, they really needed some more hobbies. Anyway, in literal terms (I'm all about exact words, just like Greg Brady) a wagon was a water cart that was used to hose down streets when they got to dusty. These guys would rather jump on the cart and drink water than quench their thirst with a drip of alcohol. Clearly this was before the invention of the mojito. So I guess if they hung out on the wagon they could drink water. If they got OFF the wagon it was cosmos and beer bongs. Now we all know. You can thank me later.

What was I talking about? Winter. Yes. It sucks. It's stupid and it's starting to grate on my nerves. Twist, could you possibly give one of those nice things about winter lists (don't recycle any old stuff though) I need a little pick me up. I'm going to go lie out now and get a tan. I think the sun will reflect nicely off the ice rink in my back yard.
Look at my poor, "dog that actually is a dog."

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Billy the Cat Guy

Somewhere in a not to distant land called New York City all sorts of odd situations are going on constantly. In fact, you can't swing a dead cat without running into one.

So my brother gets this cat (completely against my wishes, cause I am highly allergic, and I like to visit him a lot- and I'm thinkin', it's about all me, right Mark?) Anyway, on some crazy whim he goes and adopts one. Guess what? He is so allergic to it, he is constantly on meds, and not the good kind. He needs to lose this sweet little fur ball. He's to nice though. He doesn't want it to go back to the clink.

Here enters "Billy." Billy is the "Cat Adoption Consultant." Which, really, I'm not making fun of, I love the title. I think it's awesome. He's from a no kill shelter. They screen the adopters and ask them to call if it doesn't work out. This is what my brother did. So Billy comes over and has a little session with the cat (whose name I don't know- sorry Cat.) He is supposed to be there for a half hour kinda just hanging out with the cat.

Times up and my brother is running late but Billy doesn't seem to be rushing out of there. My brother decides to show Billy some Youtube video cause there are cats in it, Christian the Lion. Have you seen this. It's a sweet one. Well, Billy starts to cry. Oh dear, right in my brothers apartment, tears are a streamin'. Seeing as Billy seems to like it, Mark goes one step further with This little ditty. So now Billy is in full on sobbing. Mark's slightly uncomfortable and he really needs to work. He tell's Billy, "I'm sorry, I need to get going, I have to get some stuff done." Billy isn't ready to leave yet, he says to Mark, "I'll go if you show me just one more thing." "What?" says my brother. "I want to see Patti Lupone." What the hell, he's already running late. Mark clicks back on Youtube and Billy guides him to the Patty Lupone video, which is honestly gayer than Liza and Betty Buckley combined. Billy watches in awe as he shimmies his shoulders and thrusts his hips to the music. He claps, he sings, he is having the best time. Which truthfully I'm glad about. I was getting worried about him.

Well, I really think the moral of this kinda silly story is I'm glad my brother is a nice person. I think while it seems a little odd that Billy would carry on and insist on watching Patti, I think it's nice my brother took the time to show him. If you watch the first video (alone) there is a chance at tears, it is so sweet, you might not be able to help it. And the second video is just the perfect example that every breathing thing wants to feel love and feel connected and have a friend. Sometimes those friends come in all different shapes and sizes. So when you see that someone or something has found that love, shouldn't you just be happy for them? Shouldn't you just clap your hands and think, "Thank God for them, two less lonely souls in the world." It's why I don't get when people care if someone else is gay. It makes no sense to me. I have a gay brother so I think I am allowed to express the "gayness" of Patti Lupone. It doesn't mean I'm judging it. It just means I get it. Just like all big burly men watch football. EVERY single one of them. Right?
Billy isn't his real name either.

Mark's cat, still looking for a place to call home. Little cutey.