I've been alone with you inside my mind
And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times
I sometimes see you pass outside my door
Hello, is it me you're looking for?
I can see it in your eyes
I can see it in your smile
You're all I've ever wanted, (and) my arms are open wide
'Cause you know just what to say
And you know just what to do
And I want to tell you so much, I love you ...
I long to see the sunlight in your hair
And tell you time and time again how much I care
Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow
Hello, I've just got to let you know
'Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely, or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven't got a clue But
let me start by saying, I love you ...
Hello, is it me you're looking for
'Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying ... I love you
The first time I seen this Lionel Richie video, when I was young, it just plain disturbed me. In the begining of the short film piece, you see an artists studio and the back of a man as he skulpted with his hands, the face of a beautiful woman in clay. With great care he caresses his medium into the form of her face as he sits in his bright sunny studio as this sentimental music plays. At the end as the last choras starts with the refrain, "Hello..", the modle, his love muse enters the room, and you realize as the artist taps his way blindly across the room with his white cane to greet her, the depth of the lyrics to this song. The almost oversweet words, in my opionin, about such an imperfect love, unsettled me.
Shortly after, I met my Hubby.
Not long ago we are watching TV together and the Star Burst commercial came on. It is a high school boy showing a girl that he is infactuated with, the candy bust he had made of her, as this Lional Richie song plays on his boom box in their art class. The young girl looks on horrified as he descibes the different flavored candy he had used to recreate her image. He then loses himself in his passion and eats the nose of her (candy) face.
At the exact time Hubby and I look at each other and said, "Thats soo"- "sweet", I said just as hubby said, "sick". Our opionons didn't change a few minets later as it played again . "That is so romantic", I tried to convience him. "No that is just twisted", he thinks. "Man, I wish someone would make my head out of sugar", I told him with all sincerity. "I wish I could", was his answer, I would love to be an artist. "Yeah, but Dad, Mom IS", both boys piped in.
That was all the challange I needed.
Monday, February 28, 2005
60 cups of popcorn and carmel corn I now have Hubbys head on a plate. See, for all of you who have never seen my Hubby and think he is just a phantom of my imagination, here he is. I don't need a day job, thank you. Or do I? If you have someone you would like to comission me to form their likeness out of food, send a picture and money to: Busta Corn, in care of Lab Munkay art. All art 100% edible, and I promise not to lick any Dots I use for eyes or lips.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Bloggidy Blog Blog
There are those who blog about things,
and those who blog about fluff,
and write about their feelings,
some who harp on politacal stuff.
Some like to rant,
dragging us through their emotional mire,
many like just to preach to the choir,
I'd like to casterate them with a bansaw,
three bucce balls and a plier.
The ones who ramble on about their extordinary sexual finness,
are the ones that I laugh at most often best.
You know they do it to turn themselves on.
"Yeah , with my wolf like theeth, I tore off her thong..."
If I ever obsess enough on a sport,
that I write a entire blog about,
hold me down and bash my head with my equiptment bag,
till the white oozes out.
Where are all the folks of the young girls with eating disorders?
How long has the aparent lack of meat,
on thier bones been ignored?
I tend to inhabit the blogs of the everyday joe,
through their creative writting can let themselves go
If I am so selective on personal perspective,
why do I spend so time in frount of this computer,
I'll never know.
and those who blog about fluff,
and write about their feelings,
some who harp on politacal stuff.
Some like to rant,
dragging us through their emotional mire,
many like just to preach to the choir,
I'd like to casterate them with a bansaw,
three bucce balls and a plier.
The ones who ramble on about their extordinary sexual finness,
are the ones that I laugh at most often best.
You know they do it to turn themselves on.
"Yeah , with my wolf like theeth, I tore off her thong..."
If I ever obsess enough on a sport,
that I write a entire blog about,
hold me down and bash my head with my equiptment bag,
till the white oozes out.
Where are all the folks of the young girls with eating disorders?
How long has the aparent lack of meat,
on thier bones been ignored?
I tend to inhabit the blogs of the everyday joe,
through their creative writting can let themselves go
If I am so selective on personal perspective,
why do I spend so time in frount of this computer,
I'll never know.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Recipe for Doldrums
I think it happens to all of us. Especially if you live in the north. Winter funk hits some harder than others. I am generally feel its energy sucking grip about mid-January. The days are shorter, cold and dark. It is also my birth month so not only do I feel blue but old and blue. There are differant ways to combate these depressive feelings, light therepy, exersize, and simply taking a vacation to a warm climate are all effective. But too easy and logical for me. I tend to go about dealing with it differantly. You can just about set your calandar to my crazy antics. I go all ethnic on my fine blond self.
I often wonder how my ansesters in Scandinavia handled the long dark season. They had no central heating or running water, never mind TV or even a library. There were no riding your reindeer to Cancun or taking the longship on a spin to the Bahamas back their day. I know there is a corlalation to why Finland has the highest rate of suicide and alcohalism and the lack of sunlight. I ponder weather I would rather spend my days chasing a herd of reindeer like my Finish ansesters across a frozen snowy plane, or would I be my Norwegin and Swedish forfathers and grabbing my axe, to happily jump on the next pillaging boat off my fjord?
When I am ruminating these questions during my hybernation mode, I will kick the heat in my house up to toasty and pull my big soft chair over in front of the patio doors to let the sun light stream in on me. Inbetween naps, I read my mountain of cookbooks searching for athenitic recipes. I feel my roots through cooking. And I pour over my nordic/english dictionary. I will share these tidbits with you to combat your own spring fever.
Aquavit:
Aquavit is the national drink of Scandinavia. No trational Scandinavian meal should be served with out a little digestive glass or two of this heavily spiced potato or grain liquore.
2 teaspoons caraway seeds, or more
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
2 teaspoons dill seeds
2 star anise
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
1 whole clove
one 1 inch cinamon stick
2 teaspoons cumin seeds
4 white pepper seeds
One liter very good vodka- Absolut or Finlandia
Add spice to bottle and shake every day before tasting. Pick self up off floor when done. Shaking myself and drinking causes rug burns. Spending the winter dizzy and drunk can cause seasons to just fly by. After two- three weeks if there is any left, strain out the spice and place entire bottle in freezer. It will not freeze because of alcohal content, and tastes really good ice cold. Do this now so it will be ready for St. Uthro's day.
*finish lesson- "Kippis!"="Cheers!
*swedish lesson-"Håkte dit för fylla" ="He was caught for being drunk" "Åka dit" (go there or travel to that place) explains that someone has been "transported to jail".
*norsk lesson-"Skal"=Cheers!"
Aquavit dates back to at least 1531, when the archbishop of Trondheim recieved a bottle along with the note, "I send your Grace some water called Aqua vite. This water cures all types of internal diseases from which a human being may suffer." It's name, of Latin origin, means "water of life," and at first was hailed as a remidy foreverything from labor pains and rheumatism to indigestion, headaches, colds, gangrene, and lice. Lumbarmen were supplied with a bottle to keep warm and have something to drink that would not freeze while they worked in the forest, and farm workes had a glass or two before going out in the fields. I, personally enjoy a glass before coffee. Gimme an axe and I'm raring to go.
Gravlax with mustard sauce:
Gravlax, is a salom cured to a velvety silky smooth texture in a salt-sugar spice cure and a trational Scandinavian smorgasboard dish. The distant relitive of lox.
For the Gavlax
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup sea salt
2 tablespoons cracked white peppercorns
2 1/2-3 pounds good frest salmon fillet, skin on, boneless
3 bunches coursely chopped fresh dill, stems included
Mix sugar, salt and pepper in a bowl. Place fish in a shallow dish and rub the salty mix over. After you stop stinging, rub mix on the fish. Sprinkle remaining mix on top. Cover with dill. Wrap entire dish in plastic wrap. Weigh top down with something heavy, a brick or your son's weights, or a gallon of vodka if you have any left. Refrigerate or 3 days.
For the mustard sause
2 tablspoons honey mustard
1 teaspoon dijion mustard
2 teaspoons sugar
1 1/2 tablspoons white wine vinager
1 tablesppon cold strong coffee
pinch salt
fresh ground black pepper
3/4 cup grape seed or canolia oil
1/2 chopped fresh dill
Blend sauce ingreadants and chill. Then get back to work on this and scrape salt off the gravlax, after it has cured for 36 hours. Slice paper thin, and serve on a dark rye bread with mustard. It is salty and tastes good with the aquavit. If the thought of uncooked fish scares you- think of it as smoked fish- the chemical reaction of the sugar and salt cause it to cook. Fish also contains triglisterides that release the happy emorphins in your brain. That or the essesive amount of alcohal I consume when I eat this gives me that glow.
*finish lesson-"Tiedätkö, sekä poronkäristys että veriohukaiset näyttävät hyviltä'="You know, both the sautéed reindeer stew and those thin pancakes made with blood served with lingonberry jam look good. ''
*swedish lesson-"Allting har en ände men korven den har två."= "Everything has ends to it but the sausage's got two..."
norsk lesson-""Hvor er toalettet?"-Where is the toilet, please?
Raison Cookies
Dough
pinch salt
small amount baking powder
sugar to sweeten
one block of lard
Mix to form soft dough. Chill while making filling.
filling:
small pan of ground raisons
leomon or orange peel is nice
water and suger
Cook raison with friut peel and sugar water over low flame till thick. Stir up once and stir up awhile too so he don't get jealous. Cool and roll out dough with flour. Using a glass cut out circules and place a spoonful of raisons in center of a circle and cover with another circule and bake. These are like the best fig-newton ever. Good with a strong cup of coffee. Better with a cup of coffee with a strong shot of Aquivit.
finish lession:"Are there any cookies left?"="I have been out in the woods all day, cutting trees and drinking aquivit and I will eat anything."
swedish and norsk lession: You kids better not eat these cookies untill Christmas."="I am hidding these in the bottom of the freezer and diguiseing them as rubarb so you do not devour them."
I would like to thank and acknolidge Marcus Samuelsson from the famous Aquavit Resteraunt, Andreas Viestad of The Kitchen of Light program , and Harriet Erikson Sampson Lalli, me mum, for my inspiration, recipes and quotes.
I often wonder how my ansesters in Scandinavia handled the long dark season. They had no central heating or running water, never mind TV or even a library. There were no riding your reindeer to Cancun or taking the longship on a spin to the Bahamas back their day. I know there is a corlalation to why Finland has the highest rate of suicide and alcohalism and the lack of sunlight. I ponder weather I would rather spend my days chasing a herd of reindeer like my Finish ansesters across a frozen snowy plane, or would I be my Norwegin and Swedish forfathers and grabbing my axe, to happily jump on the next pillaging boat off my fjord?
When I am ruminating these questions during my hybernation mode, I will kick the heat in my house up to toasty and pull my big soft chair over in front of the patio doors to let the sun light stream in on me. Inbetween naps, I read my mountain of cookbooks searching for athenitic recipes. I feel my roots through cooking. And I pour over my nordic/english dictionary. I will share these tidbits with you to combat your own spring fever.
Aquavit:
Aquavit is the national drink of Scandinavia. No trational Scandinavian meal should be served with out a little digestive glass or two of this heavily spiced potato or grain liquore.
2 teaspoons caraway seeds, or more
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
2 teaspoons dill seeds
2 star anise
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
1 whole clove
one 1 inch cinamon stick
2 teaspoons cumin seeds
4 white pepper seeds
One liter very good vodka- Absolut or Finlandia
Add spice to bottle and shake every day before tasting. Pick self up off floor when done. Shaking myself and drinking causes rug burns. Spending the winter dizzy and drunk can cause seasons to just fly by. After two- three weeks if there is any left, strain out the spice and place entire bottle in freezer. It will not freeze because of alcohal content, and tastes really good ice cold. Do this now so it will be ready for St. Uthro's day.
*finish lesson- "Kippis!"="Cheers!
*swedish lesson-"Håkte dit för fylla" ="He was caught for being drunk" "Åka dit" (go there or travel to that place) explains that someone has been "transported to jail".
*norsk lesson-"Skal"=Cheers!"
Aquavit dates back to at least 1531, when the archbishop of Trondheim recieved a bottle along with the note, "I send your Grace some water called Aqua vite. This water cures all types of internal diseases from which a human being may suffer." It's name, of Latin origin, means "water of life," and at first was hailed as a remidy foreverything from labor pains and rheumatism to indigestion, headaches, colds, gangrene, and lice. Lumbarmen were supplied with a bottle to keep warm and have something to drink that would not freeze while they worked in the forest, and farm workes had a glass or two before going out in the fields. I, personally enjoy a glass before coffee. Gimme an axe and I'm raring to go.
Gravlax with mustard sauce:
Gravlax, is a salom cured to a velvety silky smooth texture in a salt-sugar spice cure and a trational Scandinavian smorgasboard dish. The distant relitive of lox.
For the Gavlax
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup sea salt
2 tablespoons cracked white peppercorns
2 1/2-3 pounds good frest salmon fillet, skin on, boneless
3 bunches coursely chopped fresh dill, stems included
Mix sugar, salt and pepper in a bowl. Place fish in a shallow dish and rub the salty mix over. After you stop stinging, rub mix on the fish. Sprinkle remaining mix on top. Cover with dill. Wrap entire dish in plastic wrap. Weigh top down with something heavy, a brick or your son's weights, or a gallon of vodka if you have any left. Refrigerate or 3 days.
For the mustard sause
2 tablspoons honey mustard
1 teaspoon dijion mustard
2 teaspoons sugar
1 1/2 tablspoons white wine vinager
1 tablesppon cold strong coffee
pinch salt
fresh ground black pepper
3/4 cup grape seed or canolia oil
1/2 chopped fresh dill
Blend sauce ingreadants and chill. Then get back to work on this and scrape salt off the gravlax, after it has cured for 36 hours. Slice paper thin, and serve on a dark rye bread with mustard. It is salty and tastes good with the aquavit. If the thought of uncooked fish scares you- think of it as smoked fish- the chemical reaction of the sugar and salt cause it to cook. Fish also contains triglisterides that release the happy emorphins in your brain. That or the essesive amount of alcohal I consume when I eat this gives me that glow.
*finish lesson-"Tiedätkö, sekä poronkäristys että veriohukaiset näyttävät hyviltä'="You know, both the sautéed reindeer stew and those thin pancakes made with blood served with lingonberry jam look good. ''
*swedish lesson-"Allting har en ände men korven den har två."= "Everything has ends to it but the sausage's got two..."
norsk lesson-""Hvor er toalettet?"-Where is the toilet, please?
Raison Cookies
Dough
pinch salt
small amount baking powder
sugar to sweeten
one block of lard
Mix to form soft dough. Chill while making filling.
filling:
small pan of ground raisons
leomon or orange peel is nice
water and suger
Cook raison with friut peel and sugar water over low flame till thick. Stir up once and stir up awhile too so he don't get jealous. Cool and roll out dough with flour. Using a glass cut out circules and place a spoonful of raisons in center of a circle and cover with another circule and bake. These are like the best fig-newton ever. Good with a strong cup of coffee. Better with a cup of coffee with a strong shot of Aquivit.
finish lession:"Are there any cookies left?"="I have been out in the woods all day, cutting trees and drinking aquivit and I will eat anything."
swedish and norsk lession: You kids better not eat these cookies untill Christmas."="I am hidding these in the bottom of the freezer and diguiseing them as rubarb so you do not devour them."
I would like to thank and acknolidge Marcus Samuelsson from the famous Aquavit Resteraunt, Andreas Viestad of The Kitchen of Light program , and Harriet Erikson Sampson Lalli, me mum, for my inspiration, recipes and quotes.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Glacial Combustion
Frost on the window
warms the pane
ice cubes in glass ignite
cold door knob scorch my hand
frigid Feburay breath inflame
your smoldering smile as you said goodbye
froze my pulsing heart
hot, I'm starting to blister
cold, I'm nothing but blue
hot, cold, hot
my thermostate is set to emplode
from missing you
all ready missing you
Glacial combustion
iced my molton soul
melting my freeze dried fire
hyperthermia incinerates
don't leave my remains shivering
in your after glow
hot hot hot
I'm here, your not
cold cold cold
my thermostate is bout to explode
missing you
fire up the ice cold flame thrower
I'm missing you
missing you
warms the pane
ice cubes in glass ignite
cold door knob scorch my hand
frigid Feburay breath inflame
your smoldering smile as you said goodbye
froze my pulsing heart
hot, I'm starting to blister
cold, I'm nothing but blue
hot, cold, hot
my thermostate is set to emplode
from missing you
all ready missing you
Glacial combustion
iced my molton soul
melting my freeze dried fire
hyperthermia incinerates
don't leave my remains shivering
in your after glow
hot hot hot
I'm here, your not
cold cold cold
my thermostate is bout to explode
missing you
fire up the ice cold flame thrower
I'm missing you
missing you
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Dear...5
Dear Dr, I am currantly plum out of my medications. It's ok, I have been subsituting Hersheys Kisses in place of pills, and am quite happy in my world of make believe. I could use a prescription for unexplained acne flare up I am experancing. Forward them to Happy Place Island will ya? Your #9 Munkay and pill junkie.
Dear...4
Areosmith, You guys so rock for coming and serenading me on valentines day. I am still humming "Sweet Emotion." Maybe next time you can kick the volume up a notch, as I was the only one who heard you. Your number one Love Groupie. Munkay
Dear...3
Dear Angelina, I loved how you dressed up in a waitress costume to spend valentines with me. Ha ha, you fool everyone but me, the one who knows you so intimately. I cherish the vial of blood you gave me and will wear it around my neck and think of you. Your Fluff Munkay forever.
Dear...2
Dear Johnny, You are so sweet to come have dinner with me this valentines! And it was so smart of you to stay out of the stalker guy who was hidden behind the roses sight! Thank you for making my day so special, honey buns. XXX-OOO your Love Munkay
Dear..1
Dear Rock, I'm disappointed as much as you are that you could not spend this valentines with me. I understand about how busy you are with the new movie and everything. I do love how you look with your new afro. I wait your return with my velcro gloves. Love and half nelson kisses, your Munkay Girl.
Valentines 2005
Dear Blog,
I was so upset that Hubby couldn't fly home for valentines weekend. Man I was pissed. Yes, I know I also had to work, but I was hoping he at least could come to the special multi course dinner that I was creating for the holiday at the bistro. Instead of wallowing in self pity about spending this weekend alone, I focused on work and dropped the boys off at Auntys for the weekend. Saturday I went into work early and the day flew by in a blur back in the busy kitchen. After I sent out the desert course during the last seating, I quick put on a clean chef's uniform and went out to to be toasted by the dinners with their glasses of raised port, and thanked them for coming. I hate that part. I like the acknowledgement for my hard work, but it embarrassed me also. I ducked back into the kitchen as soon as I could. Gina, one of the waitresses followed me into the kitchen soon after I made my exit with an empty looking creme brulle ramikin. "Munkay", she said, "some guy is sending his desert back to you". Praying it wasn't one of my hairs in his dish, I grabbed it out of her hand. There inside the empty dish was the silver bracelet with blue heart shaped stones that Hubby had seen me eyeing downtown last month. Gina is now laughing. "GINA- where is this man?" She opens the swinging stainless steal door and points to a corner where Hubby was sitting hidden behind a large bouquet of roses. He had flown home on Saturday and came straight to my work. He had been there the entire time. I walk over to him and give his head and neck a funny awkward squeezy hug, then kiss the top of his head. "Thanks Goat", I whispered. "I got to go back in the kitchen for a minet." I grabbed a half full bag of garbage and headed out the back door to the dumpster where no one could see me bawl like a little girl.
I had nothing ready for him as a gift. So I snapped a picture of my naked heart shaped ass with the digital camera and made him a card that read, "I love you from the bottom of my bottom."
It was a very good valentines indeed.
I was so upset that Hubby couldn't fly home for valentines weekend. Man I was pissed. Yes, I know I also had to work, but I was hoping he at least could come to the special multi course dinner that I was creating for the holiday at the bistro. Instead of wallowing in self pity about spending this weekend alone, I focused on work and dropped the boys off at Auntys for the weekend. Saturday I went into work early and the day flew by in a blur back in the busy kitchen. After I sent out the desert course during the last seating, I quick put on a clean chef's uniform and went out to to be toasted by the dinners with their glasses of raised port, and thanked them for coming. I hate that part. I like the acknowledgement for my hard work, but it embarrassed me also. I ducked back into the kitchen as soon as I could. Gina, one of the waitresses followed me into the kitchen soon after I made my exit with an empty looking creme brulle ramikin. "Munkay", she said, "some guy is sending his desert back to you". Praying it wasn't one of my hairs in his dish, I grabbed it out of her hand. There inside the empty dish was the silver bracelet with blue heart shaped stones that Hubby had seen me eyeing downtown last month. Gina is now laughing. "GINA- where is this man?" She opens the swinging stainless steal door and points to a corner where Hubby was sitting hidden behind a large bouquet of roses. He had flown home on Saturday and came straight to my work. He had been there the entire time. I walk over to him and give his head and neck a funny awkward squeezy hug, then kiss the top of his head. "Thanks Goat", I whispered. "I got to go back in the kitchen for a minet." I grabbed a half full bag of garbage and headed out the back door to the dumpster where no one could see me bawl like a little girl.
I had nothing ready for him as a gift. So I snapped a picture of my naked heart shaped ass with the digital camera and made him a card that read, "I love you from the bottom of my bottom."
It was a very good valentines indeed.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
More
More Paris than Nichole
more Mary Ann than Ginger
more Betty than Veronica
More Ophra than Martha,
curently.
More body than able
more non than fat
more muscle than bound
more curvy a than a round
my bend.
More right than left
more bi than polar
more obsessive than compulsive
more fox than crazy
maybe.
More pepper than salt
more mac than cheese
more lalli than pop
more chocolate
please.
more Mary Ann than Ginger
more Betty than Veronica
More Ophra than Martha,
curently.
More body than able
more non than fat
more muscle than bound
more curvy a than a round
my bend.
More right than left
more bi than polar
more obsessive than compulsive
more fox than crazy
maybe.
More pepper than salt
more mac than cheese
more lalli than pop
more chocolate
please.
Friday, February 11, 2005
WHOOOP
Give me a twenty pound block of chocolate and a blow torch and I can make anyones Valentines. Call me cupid.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Pour The Sugar
With the most romantic day of the year fast approching, I thought I'd enlighten you with the basics of a good snog, rated E for everyone. These are all tried and true methods, patented pendending.These work best on baby's bellys, but if you do not have any avaiable, a cat or puppy will do. You may need to restrain older unwilling participants. Wet lips are a must. Spearmint schnapps doubles as lubricant and breath freashner I find.
Smooches:
Mixer- start out on stir, (hmwa, hmwa. hmwa,hmwa) turn it up to blend, (mwa- mwa-mwa-mwa) and finish on whip mode,(wawawawa).
Vacum cleaner- Start this one on the kisse's digits and work inward toward the belly reagion. (Broommbroommbroommbroomm.) This one is good if you have a cold, you just pretend you are clogged. (Broommbroomhicbromm.)
Chopper Hog-Best used on an unsuspecting relaxed belly. No tattooing required. (BULBBA-BLUBBA-BLUBBA-BLUBBA-BLUB-BLUB-BLUBBLUBBLUBBLUB)
Dive Bomb- Sing theme from "Top Gun" as you run across the room. (NEARRR-PHWHOOOO -PHEWWWW). Leave no man behind.
Cob of Corn-Must be pecked in horizontal lines. (smack-smack-smack-smack-roll kissee in circular mannor, smack-smack-smack-smack) Butter optional.
Extreme Kiss-Look kissee straight in the eyes. Lick lips in a wildly exagerated mannor. Throw head back while breathing in deeply. In slow motion, matrix style, use sound effects. (AhhhhhhhhhhhhSMACK.) The anticipation involved with this one is enough to make me pee my pants.
Suction kiss- This is the most interactive of all kisses. Does not work on pets. Pretend you have an invisable straw in your mouth and you are trying for that very last drop of chocolate milk. But kick up the volume to cement pump volume. (SLEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWW). When this kiss is appied to you you must emeadiatly drop what you are doing, because of the pull, and fly across the room untill your lips or cheek is locked onto the kissers. This one has, when properly done, pulled me through a closed and locked bathroom door.
Accidental Kiss- Cough while falling Kramer style on the intended kissee. (SMOOCH) Mannors dictate you excuse yourself imeadatly.
Slurpy-Yell, "Whats that hanging off your face?" Move in fast. (Slurp) "Yes, just what I thought it was. Slurpy juice."
Sleep Kiss- Sing "Armageton theme song. "I don't want to close my eyes, I don't want to fall aslee-(snore- fall onto kissee while making (knaaaaasmacking noises.)
The Anti Kiss- Use this as a self defence to any of the above. When you are being kissed against your will, this is the easyest most efective move. Simply turn your head and let your limp tounge "fall" out of your mouth. Must land on kiss attackers skin. You can just leave it there, limp and wet and it is garenteed to wig out whom ever it lands on. Also works if they are stitting to close to you, or if what they are doing does not involve you and you need attention.(No sound effects needed but they will yell- "GET THAT TOUNGE OFF ME!"
Usually at this point I would caution you to kiss responsibly, but gosh, it is Valentines. Kiss with wild abandan. Chin up, love your mama, and practice, practice, practice. XXXXX-XXXXXXX
Smooches:
Mixer- start out on stir, (hmwa, hmwa. hmwa,hmwa) turn it up to blend, (mwa- mwa-mwa-mwa) and finish on whip mode,(wawawawa).
Vacum cleaner- Start this one on the kisse's digits and work inward toward the belly reagion. (Broommbroommbroommbroomm.) This one is good if you have a cold, you just pretend you are clogged. (Broommbroomhicbromm.)
Chopper Hog-Best used on an unsuspecting relaxed belly. No tattooing required. (BULBBA-BLUBBA-BLUBBA-BLUBBA-BLUB-BLUB-BLUBBLUBBLUBBLUB)
Dive Bomb- Sing theme from "Top Gun" as you run across the room. (NEARRR-PHWHOOOO -PHEWWWW). Leave no man behind.
Cob of Corn-Must be pecked in horizontal lines. (smack-smack-smack-smack-roll kissee in circular mannor, smack-smack-smack-smack) Butter optional.
Extreme Kiss-Look kissee straight in the eyes. Lick lips in a wildly exagerated mannor. Throw head back while breathing in deeply. In slow motion, matrix style, use sound effects. (AhhhhhhhhhhhhSMACK.) The anticipation involved with this one is enough to make me pee my pants.
Suction kiss- This is the most interactive of all kisses. Does not work on pets. Pretend you have an invisable straw in your mouth and you are trying for that very last drop of chocolate milk. But kick up the volume to cement pump volume. (SLEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWW). When this kiss is appied to you you must emeadiatly drop what you are doing, because of the pull, and fly across the room untill your lips or cheek is locked onto the kissers. This one has, when properly done, pulled me through a closed and locked bathroom door.
Accidental Kiss- Cough while falling Kramer style on the intended kissee. (SMOOCH) Mannors dictate you excuse yourself imeadatly.
Slurpy-Yell, "Whats that hanging off your face?" Move in fast. (Slurp) "Yes, just what I thought it was. Slurpy juice."
Sleep Kiss- Sing "Armageton theme song. "I don't want to close my eyes, I don't want to fall aslee-(snore- fall onto kissee while making (knaaaaasmacking noises.)
The Anti Kiss- Use this as a self defence to any of the above. When you are being kissed against your will, this is the easyest most efective move. Simply turn your head and let your limp tounge "fall" out of your mouth. Must land on kiss attackers skin. You can just leave it there, limp and wet and it is garenteed to wig out whom ever it lands on. Also works if they are stitting to close to you, or if what they are doing does not involve you and you need attention.(No sound effects needed but they will yell- "GET THAT TOUNGE OFF ME!"
Usually at this point I would caution you to kiss responsibly, but gosh, it is Valentines. Kiss with wild abandan. Chin up, love your mama, and practice, practice, practice. XXXXX-XXXXXXX
Monday, February 07, 2005
What's That Goosmount?
My oldest son, K1, from now one, will be known as Goosmount.
We are sitting by the fireplace last Saterday, watching "America's Most Wanted", absorbing all it's trashy goodness, as it is our ritual when ever we have no other weekend plans. John Walsh was working with bone specialist to recreate a three dimensional face of a unidentified lady who's corpse surfaced in a lake in the south east, seventeen years ago. "Hey Mom, she kinda looks like you.", K1 had commented to me. She looked nothing like me. Her nose maybe a little.
The next case was a search for a young man, named Goosmount, who had whent completly biserk and stabbed his entire family to death. His one outstanding feature is a slight mole on the right side of his nose. K1, ever observant, pipes up, "I have a mole by my nose." He set himself up for what followed.
"I think you ARE Goosmount."
"He looks just like his picture on TV." (The real Goosmount is Hispanic.)
"Goosmount, run out and get me a water, or I'll turn you in."
"I'm gonna turn Goosemount in for the reward. Then I will smuggle him a file in a cake in the the prison. When he breaks out and shows up back here, I'll turn him for the reward again."
"Hey, Goosmount looks like he is starting to get mad. Don't turn turn your back to him."
"Goosmount, knife sharpner is in the door. Stay away from it."
"Whats the number for 1-800-crime-tv, Goosmount?"
"Would you call what you did a rampage, Goosmount. or just a slaying, old school?"
I'm sorry to say Goosmount is sick and has missed the past couple days of school. Those killing rampages take alot out of you.
We are sitting by the fireplace last Saterday, watching "America's Most Wanted", absorbing all it's trashy goodness, as it is our ritual when ever we have no other weekend plans. John Walsh was working with bone specialist to recreate a three dimensional face of a unidentified lady who's corpse surfaced in a lake in the south east, seventeen years ago. "Hey Mom, she kinda looks like you.", K1 had commented to me. She looked nothing like me. Her nose maybe a little.
The next case was a search for a young man, named Goosmount, who had whent completly biserk and stabbed his entire family to death. His one outstanding feature is a slight mole on the right side of his nose. K1, ever observant, pipes up, "I have a mole by my nose." He set himself up for what followed.
"I think you ARE Goosmount."
"He looks just like his picture on TV." (The real Goosmount is Hispanic.)
"Goosmount, run out and get me a water, or I'll turn you in."
"I'm gonna turn Goosemount in for the reward. Then I will smuggle him a file in a cake in the the prison. When he breaks out and shows up back here, I'll turn him for the reward again."
"Hey, Goosmount looks like he is starting to get mad. Don't turn turn your back to him."
"Goosmount, knife sharpner is in the door. Stay away from it."
"Whats the number for 1-800-crime-tv, Goosmount?"
"Would you call what you did a rampage, Goosmount. or just a slaying, old school?"
I'm sorry to say Goosmount is sick and has missed the past couple days of school. Those killing rampages take alot out of you.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Picture Perfect
He really must have loved her.
"My wife never had a streach mark on her. She used lotion every day." , he told her the first time she walked passed him in her bikni. " Streach marks are caused by internal dehydration..." was her quiet explaination that fell on his unhearing ears.
He had to love her very much.
"People mistook my wife for a doll, she was that little.", he would say after she had bumped her hip against the edge of the counter trying to pass by him. She paused but kept walking.
He loved her unmeasureably.
"My wife could make these fried potoates that were unbievable, she was a wonderful cook", he remembered out loud as she stared into her dish of lobster newburg unable to swallow.
He loved her so much no one else would ever satisfy his appitite.
"My wife HATED my jokes.", he remarked as she chortled and snorted. Her laughter died.
"Yeah, I loved her like crazy, too bad she never loved me."
She takes down the picture. The wife is looking back at her. She studies the face she has walked past a thousand times without realizing this is the phenomina she is measured against and scrutinizes her image. Plain, unremarkable. Some would even call dowdy. She searches for a gimmer of special charm or beauty. What is her hidden allure. Yes, there it is.
He really must have loved her.
"My wife never had a streach mark on her. She used lotion every day." , he told her the first time she walked passed him in her bikni. " Streach marks are caused by internal dehydration..." was her quiet explaination that fell on his unhearing ears.
He had to love her very much.
"People mistook my wife for a doll, she was that little.", he would say after she had bumped her hip against the edge of the counter trying to pass by him. She paused but kept walking.
He loved her unmeasureably.
"My wife could make these fried potoates that were unbievable, she was a wonderful cook", he remembered out loud as she stared into her dish of lobster newburg unable to swallow.
He loved her so much no one else would ever satisfy his appitite.
"My wife HATED my jokes.", he remarked as she chortled and snorted. Her laughter died.
"Yeah, I loved her like crazy, too bad she never loved me."
She takes down the picture. The wife is looking back at her. She studies the face she has walked past a thousand times without realizing this is the phenomina she is measured against and scrutinizes her image. Plain, unremarkable. Some would even call dowdy. She searches for a gimmer of special charm or beauty. What is her hidden allure. Yes, there it is.
He really must have loved her.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Munkay Do List
As I was languishing in my warm bath, a while back, ruminate over my then upcoming birthday, I thought up a few things I am going to do with my last few remaining years. I figure between my chronic illness, experimental substances and procedures, family health history, and stress factor, I am probably now closer to punching out, than clocking in, on my time card called life. I am well aware the Nobel peace prize is not going to fall out of the sky and hit me on my noggin and all the marathons I have planned to compete in were in progress when I came up with the idea of entering them. Here are some things I have always wanted, and can achieve with very minimal effort.
1- Find water proof silicone and caulk the irritating overflow hole in my bathtub. I want my water to be four inches deeper, damn it. Floor tile can be replaced.
2-Call The Rocks agent. Offer him the lead role in my upcoming blockbuster, "Walking Tile Layer Scorpion Down".
3- Cut the metal blades off my white ice skates turning them into the kickinest boots ever. Have dreamed of doing that since I was seven, it's about time.
4- Set the tent up in the backyard and actually sleep in it with the boys instead of promising it like I do every year, but only putting it up after the all day scream fest directed at the three minute fool proof directions. All night, not just till something good comes on TV.
5-Using same tent, dig out my cub-scout leader uniform complete with dorky blue shorts and troupe 173 insignia to do my best to show Hubby what is hotter than any campfire. Risk lifetime banishment from the scouting organization for what I have planned on doing with my bandana.
6- Quit turning sideways while looking in my mirror and sucking in my tummy, and cocking my head to one side. I know already what I look like five pounds thinner and with longer hair.
7-Invent chocolate that improves skin and burns calories.
8-Stop ending every sentence with the phrase, "Thats what I'm talking about." I KNOW what I'm talking about.
9-Reprogram lamewad cell phone answering machine message so I can give out my cell number without feeling embarrassed. Or buy a new one. That's what I am talking about.
10-Tame hair.
11-Learn CPR. Follow The Rock around until he needs it, knock him down if I have to, and perform CPR on him.
12- Practice humble acceptance speech for when awarded my heroism award. Polish white kickin boots for the occasion.
13-Truthfully and proudly answer the correct number, when asked my age, as a child does when questioned. "Yes, I am 29!!!!" Stick out my chest and throw back my shoulders. Grin unabashed.
Yes I do have high aspirations. Attainable achievable aspirations.
14- Hire life coach.
15- Bribe her to do these things for me.
1- Find water proof silicone and caulk the irritating overflow hole in my bathtub. I want my water to be four inches deeper, damn it. Floor tile can be replaced.
2-Call The Rocks agent. Offer him the lead role in my upcoming blockbuster, "Walking Tile Layer Scorpion Down".
3- Cut the metal blades off my white ice skates turning them into the kickinest boots ever. Have dreamed of doing that since I was seven, it's about time.
4- Set the tent up in the backyard and actually sleep in it with the boys instead of promising it like I do every year, but only putting it up after the all day scream fest directed at the three minute fool proof directions. All night, not just till something good comes on TV.
5-Using same tent, dig out my cub-scout leader uniform complete with dorky blue shorts and troupe 173 insignia to do my best to show Hubby what is hotter than any campfire. Risk lifetime banishment from the scouting organization for what I have planned on doing with my bandana.
6- Quit turning sideways while looking in my mirror and sucking in my tummy, and cocking my head to one side. I know already what I look like five pounds thinner and with longer hair.
7-Invent chocolate that improves skin and burns calories.
8-Stop ending every sentence with the phrase, "Thats what I'm talking about." I KNOW what I'm talking about.
9-Reprogram lamewad cell phone answering machine message so I can give out my cell number without feeling embarrassed. Or buy a new one. That's what I am talking about.
10-Tame hair.
11-Learn CPR. Follow The Rock around until he needs it, knock him down if I have to, and perform CPR on him.
12- Practice humble acceptance speech for when awarded my heroism award. Polish white kickin boots for the occasion.
13-Truthfully and proudly answer the correct number, when asked my age, as a child does when questioned. "Yes, I am 29!!!!" Stick out my chest and throw back my shoulders. Grin unabashed.
Yes I do have high aspirations. Attainable achievable aspirations.
14- Hire life coach.
15- Bribe her to do these things for me.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
The Smell Of Light
Every once and while, when I was on the stairs leading to the second floor, I noticed a piticular odor. A kinda bad funky aroma. We have a semi-spiral stair case that is carpeted in a light beige so if it was a "present" left behind by my dog or cat, I would have found it already. And believe me, I have searched for the cause of the assault on my offactory nerve. As the stink came and when, I had just attributed it to being seasonal. Until late last night.
The stair light was on , as the boys had raced upstairs ahead of me, and as I started my assent, I noticed that the smell was once again back. "Where is it, where is it?", I mumble to myself, scanning the vicinity around my feet for an invisible turd. At the top of the stair, I flick off the light, and it hits me. I turn the switch back on and look up. There, in the large opeg glass light fixture, is a dark shadow. It is not a burned out light bulb. It looks like a sizable dead bat draped across the inside of the glass. But I cannot be certain. But I hoped it was that simple of an answer to our phantom smell.
"YOU BOY'S!" Out they pop of their rooms both boys wide eyed. "WHAT DID YOU THROW INTO THE LIGHT?" Any good mother knows you do not yell an accusation at a kid and expect him to come clean. Their chanced of growing a halo and sprouting wings are more likely than a confession at this point of confrontation. They both dart quick glances at each other as they franticaly shake their heads in denial. They have both been fully warned not only about throwing things at the light fixture, but worse yet, the vintage irreplaceable stained glass window behind it.
"Well what ever it is, you are going to help me get it down." How we are going to do this, none of us know. It would take one of those special latter's or scaffolding to get up there. "K1, hold my ankles ", is my first brigh idea, as I try climbing ontop of the little four inch wide half wall at the top of the stairs to try to balance myself and reach the fixture with a stick. I am not munkay enough to pull that move off, I thought as long fall to my painful demise loomed below. I could not get high enough with a chair. A tall book case brought me closer but I still couldn't achieve the right angle to reach the "bat" with a stick. Or a vacuum cleaner hose. Success came with a wire coat hanger bend into a hook on the end of the vacuum hose.
It was not a dead flying rodent that I pulled out of our chandelier. It was a pair of small heavily skid marked "Hulk" boxer shorts. No one here will claim them and I don't remember ever buying them. If they are yours, you can retrieve them from the garbage at the end of the driveway. And please remove the markers from the hallway light that my hook was unable to recover when you do.
The stair light was on , as the boys had raced upstairs ahead of me, and as I started my assent, I noticed that the smell was once again back. "Where is it, where is it?", I mumble to myself, scanning the vicinity around my feet for an invisible turd. At the top of the stair, I flick off the light, and it hits me. I turn the switch back on and look up. There, in the large opeg glass light fixture, is a dark shadow. It is not a burned out light bulb. It looks like a sizable dead bat draped across the inside of the glass. But I cannot be certain. But I hoped it was that simple of an answer to our phantom smell.
"YOU BOY'S!" Out they pop of their rooms both boys wide eyed. "WHAT DID YOU THROW INTO THE LIGHT?" Any good mother knows you do not yell an accusation at a kid and expect him to come clean. Their chanced of growing a halo and sprouting wings are more likely than a confession at this point of confrontation. They both dart quick glances at each other as they franticaly shake their heads in denial. They have both been fully warned not only about throwing things at the light fixture, but worse yet, the vintage irreplaceable stained glass window behind it.
"Well what ever it is, you are going to help me get it down." How we are going to do this, none of us know. It would take one of those special latter's or scaffolding to get up there. "K1, hold my ankles ", is my first brigh idea, as I try climbing ontop of the little four inch wide half wall at the top of the stairs to try to balance myself and reach the fixture with a stick. I am not munkay enough to pull that move off, I thought as long fall to my painful demise loomed below. I could not get high enough with a chair. A tall book case brought me closer but I still couldn't achieve the right angle to reach the "bat" with a stick. Or a vacuum cleaner hose. Success came with a wire coat hanger bend into a hook on the end of the vacuum hose.
It was not a dead flying rodent that I pulled out of our chandelier. It was a pair of small heavily skid marked "Hulk" boxer shorts. No one here will claim them and I don't remember ever buying them. If they are yours, you can retrieve them from the garbage at the end of the driveway. And please remove the markers from the hallway light that my hook was unable to recover when you do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
