Monday, June 29, 2009

Dear Twist,

Let Me Entertain You
Let me make you smile.
Let me do some new tricks (as in, "Hey Soccer Mom, look what i can do!-right Twisty?)

I am here to serve you. You know that. Your wish is my command. I have been trying to keep it on the down lo since my Mom thinks I'm losing it. I'm really not, It's you guys.

So here's what I've got. This past week and weekend (as we all know) I turned the big 4 0. So far, not such a big deal. I do feel that I'm smarter, stronger and much better looking than any of my three brothers. Just kidding. Are you still out there boys? Seriously, step up! I really meant that I did at 39 and 364 days. I can't tell you how many people asked me if I felt different at 40. Um, different than what? An eel? A roadblock? I don't get it. Enlighten me. I'm stoopid. No I don't feel any different. I feel like myself.

What else Twister? Oh yes, one of my bestest friends decided they now liked girls. She is a girl. So of course I was entertained by this all weekend. She has since changed her mind. Short lived but fun nonetheless. Oh well, easy come easy go.

My children entertained me before they left for camp for two weeks. Two weeks with barely a glance backwards. Saige and her friend basically kicked Marc out of their cabin when he dropped them off. I guess they were so sad they didn't want him to see them cry. Yeah right.
Before they left Saige got all her stationary and envelopes and addresses and stamps ready. Chase looked at me very seriously and said, "I'm not going to need that stuff. I won't be writing." I know Precious Angel. No one expects you to write. Just brush your teeth and I'll be happy.

So what have you been doing? How is that lazy ass husband of yours?

I miss my babies...

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Off To A Good Start

Summer's here. It was a rainy spring but I think it's done now. I think yesterday was the point where everything is going to come back to sunny again. I don't know why I think that, just a feeling. I can't remember if my kids have been out of school for one week or two. It's just a constant state of activity. I'm confused. Puzzled. I keep having these weird visions of haunted forests and sailor blazers. I wish it would stop. I'm just kidding Mom. There's nothing out of the ordinary at all.
Here, I'm going to go out on a limb and appear normal for one day and one day only. I'm not going to write anything (additional) that seems completely kooky and makes me look like a mental patient. I thought about converting for good, but decided against it. It doesn't seem like it would be quite as fun. I was going to ask someone but I couldn't find anyone who would know. Certainly not Twist. She's Twisted and she cuts her own hair. It looks good right? I was going to make it pink in photoshop, I think I still might.

Hmm... Not to these two either. Not by a long shot.

And dear dear MaryPat. Lord, there are not words. But damn, look at those arms.

Kathy, at one point I thought it might be you. Yeah. Not so much. That ships pretty much sailed. Same goes for the rest of you, especially Sue. You're married to Jason. Pass the popcorn. How's Bailey?

Thank you all.
Happy Summer...

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Happy Birthday To Me.

Stop bickering children. Hmm... am I talking to my actual children, the blog people or perhaps just myself?
Or all of the above. No fighting on my birthday. That's a rule.
And no calling me 351 either. I'm not a day over 250. God! It's a good thing I spent so much time living underwater or that might have hurt me feelings. Do you know that in addition to my stint in the Himalayas I also managed to keep myself from breathing at all for thirty days? Nobody can do that! Nobody. Cept me, duh.
My Mom kind of thinks all those comments from the previous post are from me just talking to myself. Which let me tell you, would be funny. Not really. I can assure you, they are not. Although the blog title is 'Crazy But the Cool Kind.' That might border on crazy but the crazy kind. Let me put your mind at ease Mommy. When I want to talk to myself I just e mail myself. I am very witty in e mails and I usually answer myself quickly therefore I make an excellent pen pal to myself. Well, not really pen so much as keyboard pal.

I'm not nearly as whack as some of my friends. You know who you are. I don't want to have to sensor you Peter Yorn's Mom but i will if someone starts approaching me with a straight jacket.

Where was I? Oh yes, I don't think any of you guys know this, but, today is my birthday!
Use it in a sentence...
"Today is Amy's birthday."
Very good. Now if I were going to answer myself, which I'll do later when I'm catching up on e mails to myself I'll respond to that by saying, "Thank you."

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

The Bless-ED Day Looms Ahead

You all know that blessed is pronounced like the above when used in sentences pertaining to significant events, right? Like for instance, were you to go to a Peter Yorn concert and "accidentally" he slipped on some honey that came out of a bear that someone had greedily loaded their cup of tea up with at Starbucks and his shoe first got stuck and then he went flying because there were marbles and banana peels everywhere and he landed in the audience and the audience didn't recognize him, they thought he was some sort of duck and they got scared because ducks have a tendency to bite so they quick plucked him thinking if he had no feathers there was a smaller chance of him getting them with his beak but seeing as he really didn't have feathers to begin with they were his arms and the only thing they could get to come off were his posable (that's right) thumbs. He used to pose them a lot in a Fonzie way but that's all over now. So then Peter is carrying on because he's really sticky and he has no thumbs, posable or opposable to speak of and it's time for his second set. By this time the audience realizes their mistake. They are feeling a little stupid for mistaking Peter as a duck when he looks much more like a goose so they keep trying to pass him around the crowd like a balloon at a concert because they don't want anyone to think they did it. Eventually some trickster tries to pop the Peter balloon. Oh that smarted all right. He flew up in the air in pain but miraculously he managed to get to the stage. He looked at his watch and realized it was one day until it was exactly six months from Christmas Eve so he decided he should sing a special song. So he started with Happy Birthday because he likes to think of the baby Jesus as a mischievous badger. Don't we all?

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Sunny Hours

I give thanks everyday for these words that save my soul
I only got the sunny hours, the brightest hours of day
I never count the gloomy hours, I let them slip away

That's what Long Beach Dub All Stars sing. I don't think they live in Pennsylvania. I'm almost sure of it.

So Happy Summer Solstice, right? Here's a little Asude for you, Solstice is derived from the Latin words, Sol - Sun, duh and Sistere which means to stand still. So basically this is the day of the year that the Sun is supposed to stand still the longest so we can have a really long day. This is also conviently located very closely to my birthday and seeing as the Sun is my God of choice I think it is so fitting. Twist! Did you remember my birthday is coming up? I'm not sure if I've mentioned it. Anyway, what the hell was I blathering on about? Oh yes, Summer Solstice. The day our beloved Sun is going to shower down goodness and invite the best season of the year in to greet us. Summer. Which, also, is when my birthday is. Mom? You remember it's my birthday, right?

Okay, okay. Wait, here's something else, do you know that there used to be only two seasons? It's true, I think back when Will Shakespeare was writing blogs. There was only winter and summer (my birthday season). So at that time the Summer Solstice was called Midsummer. Like Midsummer Night's Dream. See where I'm going with that. I like that title. It's oneiric. Go ahead. Look it up. I'll wait.... Tapping my fingers..

Okay, you ready now? You got it? Dreamy. It's so relating to dreams :). So my whole point of this insightful, well written blog is, can you have Summer Solstice without the Sun?
Where did the sun go?
I miss it so.
Seems it's been forever that it's been gone.
I blame this on Peter Yorn.

I don't want to have to go and switch religions now. If I were to, Asude, what should I go with? I need one where they don't tell you what to do. I need one where they like you to be tan. I need one where they think an icy cold mojito is a fine compliment to worshipping. I guess I'm just going to have to wait it out.
Patience. Now get down and give me twenty. I'm talking to you.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Snow White and the Half Gay Prince

This is the thing. It might sound stupid but obviously that is not a major concern of mine. Snow White?
What in the hell is wrong with her? I'm confused. My head hurts.
First of all, why did she even listen to that mean witch? That witch was so sinister. Speaking of sinister, do you know any actual people in real life that are sinister like the witch in Snow White? Someone who walks around with a cape that covers their hair and that sneer a lot? If so, I'd like to see them. I'd like to just stare at them like one might a zoo animal.
Why was Snow White so stupid about her? Or is Snow White just a glutton for punishment? Perhaps she has low self esteem. Just goes to show Snow, nobody is immune to that low sense of self worth. Snow was a pretty girl. She seemed to have it going on. So why did she bite the apple? Did she think the Queen was her friend? That she wanted the best for her? I don't understand. What was she thinking? I mean, Cinderella was forced into labor. Rapunzel was locked away (I think, I don't remember that story all that well) Fiona had a spell cast on her. They were really painted into their circumstances. Snow White chose it.

If that wasn't bad enough she became a virtual slave to those midgets. I don't get that at all. There was that Angry guy and that weird slap Happy one. There was the one who always slept. What was his name? What about Sneezy? He was just gross. The kleenex alone would make me sick. The Grumpy guy? Come on Snow White! Grow a pair! Leave. Stop doing their laundry! And all that annoying singing they did! Like they were in some dwarf cult. It's stupid.
Who else was there? Oh, yes, Doc, I think Greg Brady played him in a play that whacky Brady family threw in the back yard to buy Jan George Glass. No wait, that's not right. I think they did it for Bobby to impress Millicent. No, no, I think it was to make money for a new Kitty Karey doll for Cindy, that whiney little nugget.
Now that I think about it I believe it was actually Sam the Butcher that played Doc? I kind of remember that he ended up with that plum role. I love that they called him by his full God given name, "Sam the butcher." By the way, didn't the Brady clan treat Alice like crap? For realz. Wearing that uniform? Scrubbing that oven? Who was she anyway, Snow White?

Where was I? Oh, yes, so Snow White and her poor decision making processes. Obviously she had some mad skills cleaning, she could have earned some coin without any side jobs, did she really need to care for those seven lazy bastards? (Sorry Mom). And then! To add insult to injury she has to kiss a dead guy. The hits just keep on coming.

What ever happened to her and the Prince? I bet he ran off with that sinister Queen or maybe it was the King...
Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Being A Fairy Godmother...

It's kind of like being John Malkovich. But it's not.

What is see is when you have a friend of little religion but huge on all things woodsy and sprite like. A friend who believes in fireplace demons and that chickens should walk amongst us. A friend who home schools, I mean non schools her children but feeds them home made caramels for breakfast. This is the kind of friend whose children you get to be a fairy godmother for. There is no real ceremony for the child but the friend puts you through all kinds of tests. She makes you drive around NYC to every different Whole Foods there is so she can find a candy bar. She waits until there is dead silence in the most boring of anatomy lessons ever given to a group of people til she leans over and says, "Raise your hand. Ask her (the teacher) what kind of body part cooks up best." she does this to see if your laughter can go unheard and unseen. She makes you balance on tightropes and drink out of a trailer park wine bucket all in the name of are you worthy of my children.

I'm not, but I'll take the job anyways just so I can feed them even more candy, get them hopped up on orange juice that has little or nothing to do with juice and ply them with parting gifts.

Scene One:
Twist, Steroid Tom, miniature Twist and the most precious little boy who is pushing three walk in the kitchen. Twist has taught her children and they really believe it that my first and last name are all my first name. It is how they address me every time and with a little British accent even. "Amyshromm."
Precious little boy of almost three points up on my counter to my Grateful Dead psychedelic cookie jar and says in the sweetest little oddly accented voice, "Amyshromm may I please play with that truck?"

so we go up in the playroom to find him some trucks. His tiny little self is following me up the stairs. "Amyshromm it is so quiet up here, I take off my shoes?"

There has never been a politer almost three year old and I thought mine had been good.

Scene Two
There is a big huge sandbox with jungle gym bars in my back yard. I hate it the sand. It was supposed to be rubber mulch. It's stupid.
"Amyshromm? Amyshromm, why does the sand look so odd?"
"Here baby. Eat some more caramel."

Here is the wrapping of the bottle of moonshine Twist brought as a treat. I guess regifting this bag is out of the question?

Here is the lovely packaging of breakfast caramel. Word to the wise: Only put a couple of pieces of salt on it. It should be a warning on the label like when a waiter hands you a hot plate. This isn't one that's fun to figure out on your own. Thanks for that Twisty.

Me perfecting the tight rope walking part of the test

Steroid Tom lying around doing nothing AGAIN

This is what you do when you are wearing a skirt but decide it's time for handstands (please take note, I had on grey). Because this is a totally normal thing to do when you're...ten.

Just for the record, Mickey was a perfect angel. He smelled great! There is no proof otherwise.

Om Om Om Namah Namah Namah Shivay Shivay Shivaya. Three down. One hundred and five to go.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009


An old people's game?

I think not, although apparently that's the word on the street.

However, I actually did learn to play Pinochle from my two grandmothers. They taught me the game when I was about nine or ten years old so I could be their fourth and we could play partners. I loved it. I can vividly picture one hand in particular. I remember us all sitting around the table in the back yard of their neighbors in Narberth Park. We were drinking lemonade and my Nana and I were partners. We each had a run in the same suit. It was a beautiful thing. I swear I can almost feel that adrenalin rush that surged through me when we both laid them down to show our meld. It was possibly the most graceful hand of cards ever played by a nine year old all hopped on the sugar from the peanut M&M's my Dotsie let me eat at breakfast and the natural high that comes from something that only really the stars can align.

Someone asked me today what one of my favorite childhood memories was. It took me about ten seconds as vacations and holidays and trips to French Creek flew through my mind to pick an answer. Each one memorable but when I started to write my answer it was sitting around the table playing cards that came out of my finger tips.

I played Pinochle with my grandmothers and Hearts with my family. There was a stint there that my parents taught us Bridge but Pinochle was always my favorite. My dad taught me card tricks and I spent hours and hours playing solitare by myself and war with my brothers and crazy eights with my friends. I know that learning cards at such a young age and having to work in my mind how those tricks were going to be played helped me later in life to figure numbers very quickly. I have an almost rain man (slight exaggeration) qualitie to figuring out equations in my head. I know it was those cards. Or maybe my third grade teacher, Mr. Reagan, he pounded those multiplication table in our heads. Either or.

It was not only a educational game but such a social one too. In college I skipped a couple classes here and there to stay in the Union of snowy days and play Pinochle with the Beta brothers. They were stoners but they could play some serious cards.

Right now as I finally sit down after a long day and take time to think about how important the little things are it makes realize so many things. When asked that question today, I didn't say my happiest memory was when I got a new tv for Christmas or when my I got my hot pink Gloria Vanderbilt jeans in sixth grade that I loved like I gave birth to them myself or even when I spent an entire summer on vacation with friends. Those things were the shizzle but it was the time spent and the cards played that stick out in my mind most vividly.

Summer's almost here. My kids are 10 and 11, there's going to be some Pinochle going on. Come play with us if you want, but be warned, I don't take any prisoners. I like to win. Right Jen?

Monday, June 1, 2009

Are You Smarter Than A Fourth Grader?

Not mine, Baby!

A while back my dear friend Lorena Milan was over trying to teach the Mickster how to do something. I'm not sure what. She just did a lot of clucking and yelling at him. Apparently there is some famous dog guy on tv who uses the same tactics. The result of the dog training lesson ended in no actual learning for my precious little angel Mickey but my friend Ashley who was here did hurt a lung by laughing to hard.

Last night Lorena and Ashley returned to the scene of the crime. Lorena is a fabulous cook. She can whip stuff up out of nothing. (I feel like I should give her some props before I make fun of her, I do love her, she is just another friend on the long list I have that could be considered a 'character') so anyway, Lorena starts whipping up a delicious dinner while Ashley and I wander about and try to make ourselves appear busy.

We sit down outside to eat with the kids and of course my big German Shepherd starts nosing around the table. She is quite rude. I tell her to beat it as I throw some food out in the yard which apparently is not how the dog whisperer does it. Hey guess what? I'm not the dog whisper and I also was just trying to follow the path of least resistance yesterday. I think Lucy could tell. She had me at, 'sniff, big eyes'. Lorena yelled at me, "That's not how you do it!"
Ashley started laughing.
Here we go again...

This time fortunately she did not try to train them instead she started talking about how she had pit bulls when she was younger. Let me just say, I have nothing against pit bulls. I do however feel like the name elicits some sort of racial type prejudice just because of their reputation. Pit bull owners must know this, as sweet as there little angelic jaw clamping dogs are, there is prejudice. JUST like I get with my shepherd.

What followed that was an argument between Lorena and my ten year old son as to which was the stronger dog, the PB or the GS. I chimed in with the GS was the smarter dog. "Not smarter than a Poodle!" Lorena yelled at me. "I wasn't talking about Poodles, I was talking about Pit bulls. Pay attention."
Chase did not like how this was going at all. He wanted the Shepherd to be the smartest dog. Lorena just couldn't let it go though, she kept saying, "I'm right, right?" We wouldn't agree. She is giving stories to back up her claims. Chase cut her off. "I really think it has to do with how they were brought up Lorena," he says. "If a dog was brought up in my house with my Mom who treats them like babies and another dog was brought up fighting to the death in rings, of course they know how to fight better. I think either dog could win in that way."

Um, Lorena, Chase just got you with nature vs. nurture. I know what a bible beater you are (not that there is anything wrong with that, i love you) did you want to argue evolution vs. creationism with him next?