Boo Halloween

I like my candy egg or bunny shaped. If I want a prank or a joke, there is always April Fools. Celebrate a holiday that is based on pagan ritual? I'll pass. I do like dressing in costumes. Any time of the year. Dressing up like a witch or a mass murderer never has appealed to me. I just wonder why it ok to decorate schools and public places with black cats and demons, symbols to some, while it is incorrect to display a cross? The difference is?

Just a Side of Beef

Poor little plastic cow
laying in the filth
you've been tipped again
tipped again

The boys who come to you at night
looking for some fun
do not care for you at all
to them your just a mark

Grow a backbone and some pride
they are out to corral you from the inside
real cowboys, cows they do not ride
stay vertical you stupid bovine

You think your wild and undomesticated
chewing on your bitter cud
no one wants to put their brand on you
rancid meat packing plant here you come

Poor little plastic cow
laying in the filth
you've been tipped again
tipped again
don't give away your milk

Ghosts of Mahna

I avoided her while she was sick. While my intension were good, my fear was stronger. I came up with a million reasons not to visit Mahna. When I bent over her coffin to say good by to her emaciated once beautiful face, my illogical excuses were more feeble than she had ever been during her fight.
I see her face way too often now. All last summer, it was Mahna's eyes that would thank me from under the concealing hat the Jakes mom, Brenda wore during her treatments on the days I would bring over dinner.
It is Mahna's smile that tells me everything is ok when Eli's mom shows me her new boyish figure, thanks to the recent surgery.
I have seen Mahna on my mom, my aunt, and my sister.
I never what to see that likeness again.

Say Waah?

The difference between shock and awe is all in your lip placement. If you are in shock, you move your top lip. While in awe, it is your bottom lip that moves. You are sitting there right now, twisting your lips all chimp like, testing my theory, aren't you?

Succubus is today's Pie Flavor

I am in the auto paraphernalia surplus store not because I want to be, but because my dash light emergency alarm tell me I have to . Could be worse, I could be walking home, lost on some dark road, in these high heels, instead of lost in isle nine trying to differentiate between catalytic converters and piston defibulators. Movement at the end of the long row of fuel injected whatcha ma jiggies catches my eye. It is a man worth looking at. Something about this hunk of a male at the far end is familular. Is it his build? Or the roll of his shoulders as he walks? I know this man. But where? Did I date him? I meander closer. Maybe I knew him from work. Or did he come in my antique store? Click- click go my high heels as I definitely sashay closer. "Look at me", I scream in my mind, as his eyes are glued to the box in his hands. My mind races to place this guy. I know him from somewhere, but where? I hope it was that I married him during a wild drunken trip to Vegas. The floral shop? Girlfriends hottie brother? Ugh! On no! Sampson! I know him now. My baby's old babysitter. Sam was such a sweety pie. All grown up. The embarrassment spreads up my cheeks in a flush as I hurry unseen by Sammy to the checkout.
I am juggling my keys and purchases out in the parking lot when I drop my new hemmy powered dew hickey and it rolls under my jeep. I crouch down and peer at it laying there just out of my reach. So I try coaxing it out by taking a couple futile swipes at it with the torn bag it came in. I would just crawl under my car, but I am in my good skirt, and too mad to think reasonably. So instead I use the word the millatary used to shorten the phrase, "forced unlawfull cardinal knowldge". " Woah, ok Miss, but first let me get this here fore you", is what I hear as my old babysitter, the newly reconized Sampson, dives under the jeep and retrieves my gizmo. He gallantly hands my slightly muddy part back to me with a flourish. "Oh! Mrs. Robinson!", he stammers. It is his turn to blush. Ok the Mrs. Robinson part was probly just in my dirty old mind. Ever the polite young gentleman he offers to help me, "get it on", before blushing a deeper shade of -I want to bite my own tongue off red. In a matter of seconds I went from feeling incredibly old to very young. And then all I could feel was dirty.
Car parts work better than candy.

Calendar Boy

How do I feel about my my baby, K1, joining wrestling? Delighted. Yes there is the chance he will get hurt in such a full contact competitive sport, but hey, it's a sport.

The best thing about the wrestling team is how they raise funds for their team. They thought out of the box of a classroom. A few years back, the team, which consists of your more your non typical reform personalities, decided not to sell candy, or gift wrapping paper, or coupons, as goes the status quo for extra curricular activities go. Instead they came up with their own beef cake calendar.

The twenty five buff jocks hired their own photographer for the shoot. Using their parents or friends Harley Davidson motocycles, the boys where photographed posing in leather on the bikes. Needless to say, the calendars sold like hotcakes. When the scandal concerning using the young men's bodies to promote sales raised it's ugly head, the calendar supply sold out and more had to be ordered.

The next year, when the moral inquisition approached the free thinking coach, he assured the few indignant parents that the team would not pose on motorcycles.

The team instead, dressed in their tight form fitting lycra wrestling unitards.

Tight spandex.

And the debate club has a dog wash.

One Smiley Face Balloon in Review

I sit in between big boss and little boss as they tell me what they think of me. "We want you to be a key player in our organization", says big boss. "But you need to start taking your job seriously", adds little boss. I wrinkle my forehead in thoughtful concentration, as I squint with reasonable determination and I imagine the two of them in a wressling ring wearing tights and capped leotards as they tag team berate me. "We value your efforts and the skills you have brought us, but we are concerned with your attitude." "My attitude?" I repeat as I look at the arrangement of yellow roses on little bosses desk. "Your teasing, primarily." I squint harder. The card reads -To my sweetheart. "Really?" Sweethearts get red roses. The color yellow is for buddies. "Yes, we know you are making friends with the guests over in your building, but your teasing my be taken the wrong way." One of the flowers heads is hanging limp. It's lone stalk can't reach the water. The rest of the bouquet is flourishing. "But I treat them like my family. They like it when I remember to give them my personal attention."I picture myself with spatula in hand, doing my impersonation of a pirate chiding my new mates on the dangers of scurvy if they don't eat my vegetables. "You should rethink that." The memory of me trying to playing donut ho bowling with my guests pop straight out of my imagination. I hang my head and memorize how the brown weaved into the beige strands of the carpet all take turns uniformly. "Ok", I mumble and I think of how much I enjoy the sound of the metal of my knives against the edge of the rasp as I sharpen them. "We don't want the human resource department on our backs. We need to keep you in tune with what is politically correct."I look up and stare past them out the window where I can see the happy face I drew on the balloon that I had tied earlier to the rail out side Don, the deaf mute dishwashers window. "It's not like we are against you having fun, you get need to be a team player."The sigh I release has its start in the sick snake region of my belly."Your co-workers enjoy working with you. Maybe you could participate more." In my head it is Foghorn Leghorns voice coming out of big bosses body. "Try some of the charitable activities here?" Why?, when I would rather be home in my underwear eating peanut butter straight out of the jar with my fingers and teaching myself to tango. I laugh and nod in agreement to the tune from "Last Tango in Paris" that is running through my mind. "Good", they answer all smug and self ritchous as they open the office door for me. "We value having you as a team player and want to keep you on board", they wave me off. "I quite", I tell the closing door. "WHAT?", big boss says, jerking the office door back open, all red in the face. "Quince", I answer. "Did we get any fresh ones in?"

The Loser In Me

Will run to answer the phone when it rings, and then stand there and hold my breath until after the third ring. That way I sound breathless, when I finally pick up, as if I am too busy doing exciting physical things, to answer the phone in a timely manner.

Orders all her clothes via the mail to avoid having to "dress" to clothes shop.

Stopped testing the keytones in her urine while diabetic for a while, because the labels warning, "Do not take internally." I thought I would die if I used the strips forever. I did not know the difference, at age eight, between internal and eternity.

Had never heard a radio until the first grade. My bus driver, Russle, had a station on from Rosoe, Minnesota. When the d.j. announced, "And next, we have the Andy Gibb...", I thought my heart throb, Andy, was in the station, an hour away. I just want to be your every thing, Andy. Damn you Kathy Watson for bursting my bubble and telling me about records.

Took an entire two years to finish the oil portrait of her family of men. It is an abstract picture that my Hubby hates and he will hide it. It hangs in my bathroom, where no one can see. I will on occasion, whip out my paint brushes and tweak it. It is my favorite picture I have ever painted.

Stole a bottle of caustic nasty topical ointment out of her physitions office after having my skin treated in an rude area. Burnt self with harsh chemicals when trying to self medicate same rude area. Had to find new Dr. to treat my "mystery" burns.

Spend three months of summer vacation sunbathing on my sisters big old Oldsmobile hood, drinking ice tea, while attempting to co-write the next great romance novel. Never got past the first chapter due to the arguments over plot. Only thing we did agree on was the main caricature be a blue eyed blond Scandinavian chick. Decided to actually read our first romance before trying to write our own.

When chatting on instant messenger, will sometimes leave the program before the person I am talking with has finished typing their goodbye. Makes me feel wanted when I sign on again and see an off line message waiting for me.

Got a job cleaning fishing cabins for less than minimum wage at a resort. Told my best friend I was spending all my time with my made up boy friend who I named Jim Beamer. After all the Jim Beam bottles I cleared out of those stinky scale covered shacks while she hung out with a real boy.

Will run the water in her bathroom sink when feeling lonely, just to attract the cat from out of it's hiding spot. Water, apparently, is less boring than me.

Has to be the first one to eat the little center peak off the any container holding soft food stuffs, where the product is poured into the container. Yogurt, ice cream, peanut butter, guacamole, I have my spoon ready to taste the best freshest spot. I call it. Works at home somewhat and at work not so often.

Spends more time in the lobby or the bathroom hiding because she is embarrassed to not have the rhythm to clap in time to the music at church. Hubby knows this so when he does go with he will fake clap off beat to throw me off even more. Spend more time in service praying for forgiveness for cursing the rhythm nation.

Has a lucky bra.

Will not trade in her football stadium sized cell phone for a smaller newer one because she has yet to master the one she has. And likes the big buttons.

Says the term, "Call my attorney, Bob Loblaw", to herself inside her head whenever she finds herself in a sticky stituation and laughs out loud, causing further trouble.

Has a quarter pound left of the mega Hersheys kiss that a valentine once gave her, hidden in her closet under the Christmas wrapping paper. She never bothered to save his card or picture, but finds this imperishable lump sentimental and tasty.

Doesn't wash her jeep because she thinks a true off road vehicle should look rugged.

Has a large framed poster of Marilyn Monroe lifting weights hung over the weight bench she stores her candle making bees wax. Uses the bees wax so she does not resemble Marilyn Manson.

Turns the bedroom radio on to a pop rock station on the mornings before she leaves for work so that when she climbs the stairs at bedtime it sounds like their is a wild dance party happening in her room and she is not alone.