A going away party was held today at my job for a coworker, Joysucker. It was no improptu gathering, it had been planned for some time. Basically from the day he was hired, we have awaited this event honoring the Sucker masters exit.
Our conga line was short, around the bakers area, circling the large floor mixer you could often find him leaning liturgically against. The pantomime winner was the chef who reinacted a love scene involving the departee's clip board. (The same clip board that had mysteriously kept disappearing. Our manager would hide it for our amusement, causing Sucker much chagrin. The boy would walk in circles asking everyone in a lost and useless way the rest of the day, "Have you seen my clip board? Where is my clip board?") Both sets of "misplaced" storage room keys also aparated. Come to find out they weren't in the dumpster after all. Although we did all have a good chuckle at the thought of him diving in and rummaging around for them, and the angry letter he had written concerning our irresponsibility. Sceond place whent to the server who answered the main department phone in his familair sounding lisp, "Thiss iss Thoy Suckerss ofis, Thoy Suckerss thpeeking."
After a lovely refreshment of the chocolate cake Sucker so despised,and whined often about, we played a quick game of pinota. We took turns covering our eyes with his crusty white hat and swinging an oversized spatula at his company name tag. The winner got to whirl the plastic picture id through the industrial food processor. A good time was had by all. We walked back to work after break whipping the happy tears from the corner of our eyes still singing "For he's a horny gross sucker, for he's a horny gross sucker, for he's a horny gross suckerr, that nobody can deny", under our breath.
Of course he wasn't there, his last day was a while back. That's what made the party.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Her Beauty
She is all that. She is all that simply because she has never been told otherwise.
At an early age her family told her she was magnificent. They told her she was beautiful and smart. The world was hers, to be done with what she wanted. Her confidence was planted deep.
Others, who might not be aware that she is the gatekeeper and keyholder might think of her as ordinary. Mundanely wrapped in an awkwardly spoilt package.
She is the way she is because she never doubted her family one iota. They need a mirror.
At an early age her family told her she was magnificent. They told her she was beautiful and smart. The world was hers, to be done with what she wanted. Her confidence was planted deep.
Others, who might not be aware that she is the gatekeeper and keyholder might think of her as ordinary. Mundanely wrapped in an awkwardly spoilt package.
She is the way she is because she never doubted her family one iota. They need a mirror.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Clint Does Dream Therapy
Geologist: The iron range and the banks of the St. Croix forms a basin effect. The silt caused by the erosion brings it all back to you. That is why his name is stuck on your mind.
Me: So, how do I get rid of my obession?
Geologist: Bury him.
Me: So, how do I get rid of my obession?
Geologist: Bury him.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Weeast Dakota Car Games
These are games to play in your vehicle while cross country wondering.
1) Where's my finger. One player must sit in the front seat, the other in the back. The places to hide ones finger is limitless. They include in other body parts, things or on a map. Tourist brochures are especially good. "Nope wrong. My pinkie ain't in my ear. Not in the bag of Cheetoes. Or full of Black Hills gold. It is in the "Unexplainable Cosmos Mystery Area." Or is it?"
2) Hit the tumble weed. Ok so the driver tries her best to hit the fast moving dry brush. Others cheer and bet on success.
3) What do I gotta do to make this semi driver honk. Driver must pull along semi and kids do what ever it takes to illicit a honk of the air horn. 32 honks and we where in Rapid City. Truckers where hitting detours.
4) BISON! BISON! Ok there are no set rules to this game. Just yell Bison when ever you want to change the subject or get attention.
5) Wrong Song. Sing any pop song you want from any time era but change the words to cowboy lyrics. "My spurs, my spurs, my lovely little spurs. In the back and in the front. Get you love drunk on the saspirilla. Make you scream ,Make you Scream....."
6) How slow is this Dakotan. These people are over friendly and ask way to many questions. We know half this state is closed down because it is not tourist season. That is why we are here. Stop asking. We are doing our own "Minnesotans Gone Wild", video.
7) What won't these donkeys eat. Sorry you will just have to wait for the picture.
8) WWLIWD? Short for what would Laura Ingals Wilder do.
9) Get Lost. Easily played when driving on closed mountain logging trails, caves, large never ending Cabella's.
10) Name something they don't sell in Wall drug. Clearly labeled radio-active material, defibarators and live animals.
1) Where's my finger. One player must sit in the front seat, the other in the back. The places to hide ones finger is limitless. They include in other body parts, things or on a map. Tourist brochures are especially good. "Nope wrong. My pinkie ain't in my ear. Not in the bag of Cheetoes. Or full of Black Hills gold. It is in the "Unexplainable Cosmos Mystery Area." Or is it?"
2) Hit the tumble weed. Ok so the driver tries her best to hit the fast moving dry brush. Others cheer and bet on success.
3) What do I gotta do to make this semi driver honk. Driver must pull along semi and kids do what ever it takes to illicit a honk of the air horn. 32 honks and we where in Rapid City. Truckers where hitting detours.
4) BISON! BISON! Ok there are no set rules to this game. Just yell Bison when ever you want to change the subject or get attention.
5) Wrong Song. Sing any pop song you want from any time era but change the words to cowboy lyrics. "My spurs, my spurs, my lovely little spurs. In the back and in the front. Get you love drunk on the saspirilla. Make you scream ,Make you Scream....."
6) How slow is this Dakotan. These people are over friendly and ask way to many questions. We know half this state is closed down because it is not tourist season. That is why we are here. Stop asking. We are doing our own "Minnesotans Gone Wild", video.
7) What won't these donkeys eat. Sorry you will just have to wait for the picture.
8) WWLIWD? Short for what would Laura Ingals Wilder do.
9) Get Lost. Easily played when driving on closed mountain logging trails, caves, large never ending Cabella's.
10) Name something they don't sell in Wall drug. Clearly labeled radio-active material, defibarators and live animals.
Monday, March 27, 2006
My World
I heard the crash and knew what it was immediately. After the roar, and the heavy thump, I ran into the living room and found my antique globe shattered on the wooden floor. My world in a million irreplaceable shards. So all did all I knew how to do. I followed him in the kitchen screaming like a fish monger's wife. That wasn't enough. My words and my reason and my tears were just not enough. So I took a swing at him. I smacked him full on the back of his head, right where the goose egg from last weekends tumble protruded from the back of his skull. Still not enough. I turned my back on him as to have the last say in the matter. Naturally he chased me. Hit me. Go ahead and hit me. I even curled myself into a tight ball and tucked in my chin making myself a target. Take your best shot at my back, you bastard, I'm not going to run.
But run I did. Sometimes a couple of states can make a world of difference.
But run I did. Sometimes a couple of states can make a world of difference.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
It Would of Been Romantic If There Had Been Romance
There was a zing of excitement in the fresh spring air as we drove to our destination. The forty minute drive took only a blink of an eye, our conversation was that good. He played the charming tour guild for me and pointed out to me things I had never noticed much less known about. I wanted the night to last until summer .
During the show, we shared secret jokes and did not even listen to the narrative. I ate off his plate, he drank my wine. We enjoyed sharing our passion. He was the perfect gentleman.
An onlooker confided in me, "You and your husband look like you are having such a good time. It's obvious you too love each other very much." "Yes", I answer, But we are not married. Eric is my friend."
During the show, we shared secret jokes and did not even listen to the narrative. I ate off his plate, he drank my wine. We enjoyed sharing our passion. He was the perfect gentleman.
An onlooker confided in me, "You and your husband look like you are having such a good time. It's obvious you too love each other very much." "Yes", I answer, But we are not married. Eric is my friend."
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Kickin and Screaming
She fought with the phone company and had her service shut off for a week.
She battled the bulge and lay on her closet floor sobbing when she could not fit into the size 8 jeans. Then she read the tag that read, boys.
She fought the passing of time by Indian leg wressling her kids. Not only did old man time kick her ass but the laws of physics as well.
She fought back the nausea as she cleaned the puppy poo off the carpet and ending up cleaning her bathroom as well.
She fought all common sense and bought her son a trumpet.
She fought the wolf away from her door by working a sixty hour week. Where she also fought authority.
She fought the urge to laugh out loud at her kids spring concert and ended up bawling instead.
She fought with her husband and will no longer call him Goat. I will however call him Goaty Mc Goat Goat, Crusty the Goat. Grizzle Goatypants. Dusty Goat Breath. Or Bill
She fought the urge once again to run off to a far away country but booked tickets to Helsinki in July.
She battled the bulge and lay on her closet floor sobbing when she could not fit into the size 8 jeans. Then she read the tag that read, boys.
She fought the passing of time by Indian leg wressling her kids. Not only did old man time kick her ass but the laws of physics as well.
She fought back the nausea as she cleaned the puppy poo off the carpet and ending up cleaning her bathroom as well.
She fought all common sense and bought her son a trumpet.
She fought the wolf away from her door by working a sixty hour week. Where she also fought authority.
She fought the urge to laugh out loud at her kids spring concert and ended up bawling instead.
She fought with her husband and will no longer call him Goat. I will however call him Goaty Mc Goat Goat, Crusty the Goat. Grizzle Goatypants. Dusty Goat Breath. Or Bill
She fought the urge once again to run off to a far away country but booked tickets to Helsinki in July.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Who, What?
There was an invisible little girl
who cried a crystal clear tear
right in the middle
where her cheek should be
and it evaporated into thin air
so she let out a sob
and cursed herself hard
fustrated because she was voiceless.
who cried a crystal clear tear
right in the middle
where her cheek should be
and it evaporated into thin air
so she let out a sob
and cursed herself hard
fustrated because she was voiceless.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Cats and Dogs Living Together
Holy crap. Pigs and monkeys. http://wcco.com/topstories/local_story_050172415.html
This was on the local news just days after I found out the person right before me who had the same procedure, islet cell transplant by injection, instead of sugicaly, died on the operating table. Eight people before me had a transplant, not all were successfull, and none buy the less invasive way I had mine.
I also discovered I am a poster child for the U of M. http://www.diabetesinstitute.org/diabinst/treatmentsdiabetes/islet/stories/lalli.html Please read the home page on that site.
When I had my procedure, my doctor, Dr. Herring told me he was already working on a more advanced cure. I was his baby steps.
I am happy for modern technology. But this type of news upsets me. I don't know what to do with my face.
This was on the local news just days after I found out the person right before me who had the same procedure, islet cell transplant by injection, instead of sugicaly, died on the operating table. Eight people before me had a transplant, not all were successfull, and none buy the less invasive way I had mine.
I also discovered I am a poster child for the U of M. http://www.diabetesinstitute.org/diabinst/treatmentsdiabetes/islet/stories/lalli.html Please read the home page on that site.
When I had my procedure, my doctor, Dr. Herring told me he was already working on a more advanced cure. I was his baby steps.
I am happy for modern technology. But this type of news upsets me. I don't know what to do with my face.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
The Greasemonkeys Daughter
We never did have a new car when I was growing up. Dad was a mechanical engineer, of sorts. My father did not hold a degree. He had barley made it through the eighth grade of a one room Finnish/American school house. Wilmar would come up with bits and pieces off other machinery and design a completely new mechanism. His biggest invention he made most often though, was do.
The automobiles we drove were often made up of miscellaneous parts of cars he would scavenge. Dad was a genius when it came to putting together scraps of machinery and turn them into running machinery. He built tractors, harvesting equipment, and once a prosthesis leg for his war veteran friend. The cars we drove were always a work in the making, and often needed a little help. Mufflers, that if you drove for too long and too fast, would fall off, or stick shifts that would take two hands to maneuver, for instance.
That might be why, when my last jeep was laid to rest, I bulked at the notion of setting foot into a car dealership. In my mind, there was no unfixable automobile. So what if the back end of my wagon was gone, there was another half of an unscathed junker that could be married to my beloved blue jeep. I just couldn't find the man willing to take the time and do it.
On the other hand, in this modern day disposable world there are a trunk load of those willing and eager to sell me a new one. "I don't want a new car", I repeatedly told my husband, who was on his mission of loving provider. "I know how to start a truck with a pick-axe. I can make do with a used model."
Hubby didn't like the idea of me stranded because of car problems , late at night, on the side of the road while he was out of town. I told him I could also protect myself with same pick axe.
For valentines day Hubby bought me a nice shiny new red jeep. It will do. I wonder how he will use the pick axe I bought him. And if in some wreck yard, somewhere, the pieces of my old jeep will make someone else happy.
The automobiles we drove were often made up of miscellaneous parts of cars he would scavenge. Dad was a genius when it came to putting together scraps of machinery and turn them into running machinery. He built tractors, harvesting equipment, and once a prosthesis leg for his war veteran friend. The cars we drove were always a work in the making, and often needed a little help. Mufflers, that if you drove for too long and too fast, would fall off, or stick shifts that would take two hands to maneuver, for instance.
That might be why, when my last jeep was laid to rest, I bulked at the notion of setting foot into a car dealership. In my mind, there was no unfixable automobile. So what if the back end of my wagon was gone, there was another half of an unscathed junker that could be married to my beloved blue jeep. I just couldn't find the man willing to take the time and do it.
On the other hand, in this modern day disposable world there are a trunk load of those willing and eager to sell me a new one. "I don't want a new car", I repeatedly told my husband, who was on his mission of loving provider. "I know how to start a truck with a pick-axe. I can make do with a used model."
Hubby didn't like the idea of me stranded because of car problems , late at night, on the side of the road while he was out of town. I told him I could also protect myself with same pick axe.
For valentines day Hubby bought me a nice shiny new red jeep. It will do. I wonder how he will use the pick axe I bought him. And if in some wreck yard, somewhere, the pieces of my old jeep will make someone else happy.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
No Centerfold Here
I did not like it when he took pictures of me. I do not know if it is because the quality of the images, or the timing of the snap shots, but I would cringe when he would procure his Kodak. In all his shots I am turning away, avoiding the lens. When he asked to include the camera in our intimate time, I was surprised. I thought I knew him better than that, or at least he knew me. But when later I discovered his stash of our erotica, I smiled out loud. Every shot was of only my face.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Love Potion # 6,726,587,239
If I were to formulate for you your specific love potion, what would it smells would it consist of? A wafting of pumpkin pie, a hint of cedar and a pinch of Axe body spray? Warm puppy fur, popcorn and a whiff of the beach? A drop of sweat, a sprinkle of cinnamon and a puff of smoke? Money? Does the smell of baby make you warm or just impatient? New car aroma give you tingles or nausea? And what do I package your essence of emotional devotion in? Would you like it in a crystal decanter, empty gin bottle, or would a WD 40 can do? A jeweled box or a zip lock baggy?Let me know soon eh? My personal concoction of fresh paint, curry, leather, fish and hospital antiseptic in a chocolate shell will probably not be requested for duplication this valentines season.
Friday, February 10, 2006
The Mice in My Brain
I'm sorry I haven't written you much lately, but I have been thinking of a lot of things....
Of the fireworks exploding in the dark sky, as we watched through the picture window of the ice shack.
The spoon of justice.
Groupings, clusters, or rows?
South Dakota.
Of the naughty little pair of leather leaderhosen I'll be sporting while serving shinitzle and spagle on Valentines night.
Pearl asking who hit her as I walked her back to the patrol car.
Teaching K2 how to yodel on the ski lift when I surprised him on his birthday and took him skiing instead of school.
Of the invasion of goateed men at work.
Warm ginger snaps.
Of the beauty at http://www.augustlalliflowers.com/
My hatred of car dealerships and salesmen.
My chiropractor with the shoe fetish.
The Citadel pussy.
The song automated Boy by The Dresden Dolls.
Art dot cards.
Men in recliners.
Drive by lawn trollings.
Hopefully lunching in Anoka.
K2 walking out of class the day after he witnessed me walk out of the new jeep transaction.
The class I'll be teaching with Sweatin John.
Why all black pants make my skin itch. Am I allergic to black?
The upcoming strange shenanigans at http://notjustadogandmonkeyshow.blogspot.com/ And can someone please tell him how to post a picture on his profile?
I promise I will try to write and keep you up more often. But you never know.
Of the fireworks exploding in the dark sky, as we watched through the picture window of the ice shack.
The spoon of justice.
Groupings, clusters, or rows?
South Dakota.
Of the naughty little pair of leather leaderhosen I'll be sporting while serving shinitzle and spagle on Valentines night.
Pearl asking who hit her as I walked her back to the patrol car.
Teaching K2 how to yodel on the ski lift when I surprised him on his birthday and took him skiing instead of school.
Of the invasion of goateed men at work.
Warm ginger snaps.
Of the beauty at http://www.augustlalliflowers.com/
My hatred of car dealerships and salesmen.
My chiropractor with the shoe fetish.
The Citadel pussy.
The song automated Boy by The Dresden Dolls.
Art dot cards.
Men in recliners.
Drive by lawn trollings.
Hopefully lunching in Anoka.
K2 walking out of class the day after he witnessed me walk out of the new jeep transaction.
The class I'll be teaching with Sweatin John.
Why all black pants make my skin itch. Am I allergic to black?
The upcoming strange shenanigans at http://notjustadogandmonkeyshow.blogspot.com/ And can someone please tell him how to post a picture on his profile?
I promise I will try to write and keep you up more often. But you never know.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
At Least Good Guys Finish
I wish I had met you sooner
fucked ya up twist you turn you into a train wreck loser
show you the truly dark side of the moon
eat you up baby with my warped spoon
be my freak tweakin for the poon
wear you like a string around my finger
flick off the world with you my little ringer
turn you inside out left out to dry teach you how it feels to cry
ride you hard put away wet
you'd beg for more bitch wanta bet
use you up for my joy ride
shred every once of your masculine pride
strut my welcome mat to trap you for my chew toy
want to taste some candy little boy
run for the hills don't look back
keep me from makin you a burned up hater
your so better off never than later
fucked ya up twist you turn you into a train wreck loser
show you the truly dark side of the moon
eat you up baby with my warped spoon
be my freak tweakin for the poon
wear you like a string around my finger
flick off the world with you my little ringer
turn you inside out left out to dry teach you how it feels to cry
ride you hard put away wet
you'd beg for more bitch wanta bet
use you up for my joy ride
shred every once of your masculine pride
strut my welcome mat to trap you for my chew toy
want to taste some candy little boy
run for the hills don't look back
keep me from makin you a burned up hater
your so better off never than later
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Pearl Jam
Thank God for silver foxes.
The world needs more sweet little old ladies who drive silver sports cars.
Sharp as tacks pushing centurion who do lunch at their less mobile friends homes.
Thank you Lord for giving them the timing to do their outings while young children and pedestrians are in school.
Great Grannies smart enough to buy wheels with all the necessary deployable air bags.
Wise sun spotted beauties who are nimble enough to maneuver around snow plows.
Blessed be genuine who are able to scan the horizon for road signs, but miss seeing my stand still jeep.
Wizen angles who make it possible for me to have insurance pay for my back rubs and new neck adornment.
Sweeties named Pearl who are too tough to let there paramedic examine her, and worry about my well being.
Heaven sent ladies who will never drive again and keep the more venerable safe.
Nursing home refugees who will make the salesman of my next, even bigger SUV, fall on their knees.
Thank you, for perfect timing.
The world needs more sweet little old ladies who drive silver sports cars.
Sharp as tacks pushing centurion who do lunch at their less mobile friends homes.
Thank you Lord for giving them the timing to do their outings while young children and pedestrians are in school.
Great Grannies smart enough to buy wheels with all the necessary deployable air bags.
Wise sun spotted beauties who are nimble enough to maneuver around snow plows.
Blessed be genuine who are able to scan the horizon for road signs, but miss seeing my stand still jeep.
Wizen angles who make it possible for me to have insurance pay for my back rubs and new neck adornment.
Sweeties named Pearl who are too tough to let there paramedic examine her, and worry about my well being.
Heaven sent ladies who will never drive again and keep the more venerable safe.
Nursing home refugees who will make the salesman of my next, even bigger SUV, fall on their knees.
Thank you, for perfect timing.
Monday, January 30, 2006
My Secret Liaison
"Renee", is the name I sprawl on the dust of my window sill as I sigh and lean my forehead against the cool and grimy pane. How I miss my Renee. Our separation has dishearten me. While Renee is cavorting on vacation in the Caribbean surf, I am languishing here in my own filth.
I try not to remember my life before Renee saved me, the dark putrid hole that was my home. She came into my world about the time my first child arrived. She invaded my personal space like a slightly caustic pint sized Mr. Clean. Renee is my cleaning faerie.
My hubby, bless his obliviousness to dirt, has never noticed I have Renee. Nor do I bother to point out this fact. You would think he would have if anything noticed, a reduction in my nag time. My mantra of "take off your boots, take off your boots, pick it up!", is less often uttered from my exasperated overworked lips. How he thinks I manage to clean the entire house on the days I work, plus all the errands thrown in, sans any industrial cleaning fluids, I'll never know. And I flat out don't care. I don't like keeping things from my husband. But it would upset the man greatly if he knew I payed for her services.
Back in the day, I resisted hiring someone to clean my house. That was something that I felt I should have been able to do myself. I come from a strong line of tidy ancestors. Some who would clean the rafters in their attics every spring and the power lines that lead into their homes. Some even had to be medicated to suppress their cleaning hard drive. I can clean, mind you. I just happen to fill my time with other things. But a woman's home is often thought of as a reflection of themselves, so that is when Renee became part, if not a secret part of my family.
"Come home soon", I whisper to myself. I can't find my car keys.
I try not to remember my life before Renee saved me, the dark putrid hole that was my home. She came into my world about the time my first child arrived. She invaded my personal space like a slightly caustic pint sized Mr. Clean. Renee is my cleaning faerie.
My hubby, bless his obliviousness to dirt, has never noticed I have Renee. Nor do I bother to point out this fact. You would think he would have if anything noticed, a reduction in my nag time. My mantra of "take off your boots, take off your boots, pick it up!", is less often uttered from my exasperated overworked lips. How he thinks I manage to clean the entire house on the days I work, plus all the errands thrown in, sans any industrial cleaning fluids, I'll never know. And I flat out don't care. I don't like keeping things from my husband. But it would upset the man greatly if he knew I payed for her services.
Back in the day, I resisted hiring someone to clean my house. That was something that I felt I should have been able to do myself. I come from a strong line of tidy ancestors. Some who would clean the rafters in their attics every spring and the power lines that lead into their homes. Some even had to be medicated to suppress their cleaning hard drive. I can clean, mind you. I just happen to fill my time with other things. But a woman's home is often thought of as a reflection of themselves, so that is when Renee became part, if not a secret part of my family.
"Come home soon", I whisper to myself. I can't find my car keys.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Because a Scientist Said So
Today has been deemed as the years most depressing day. Some scientist hatched up the equation to formulate it as being so. Time of year, weather, self esteem, financial debt and sunlight all factored into his equation. Just when I was feeling really great about marking yet another revaluation around the sun.
You got to fight fire, with fire. My my case, cold with cold. To beat cabin fever, and to also celebrate my son's birthday, I decided to kick the old thermostat down a notch. I found an even colder, smaller and darker place to party. It will be in a fish house up north. Take that, old man winter. We are biting back.
I am pulling the boys out of school, with a couple of friends, for a long weekend in a deluxe sleeper fish house on Mille Lacs. Deluxe means it has beds, a bathroom, and a stove. Mille Lacs is Native American for "Freezes Ass for Fish". Good times. Good times. I am packing cards, movies and lots of food, along with the game hnefatefl. (Viking chess) The biggest surprise will be when the sled dog team I found pulls up in front of our ice shack to surprise my son and his friends with a ride across the frozen tundra.
When I heard the 6 o'clock news that I should just be sobbing or drinking, instead of in my happy little buzz, I picked up the phone and called the resort we will be staying at.
"How much ice do you have on the lake?"
"Twenty-two inches on our bay right now."
Asking if the fish are biting is just redundant.
"Happy Birthday!!", I yelled into the phone before hanging up.
My formula for happy is this,
Pi, or cake for that matter times six, frozen, add goofy infinity minus reason, plus a fraction of adventure.
Maybe we will pee that into the snow and send that scientist a picture of my equation.
You got to fight fire, with fire. My my case, cold with cold. To beat cabin fever, and to also celebrate my son's birthday, I decided to kick the old thermostat down a notch. I found an even colder, smaller and darker place to party. It will be in a fish house up north. Take that, old man winter. We are biting back.
I am pulling the boys out of school, with a couple of friends, for a long weekend in a deluxe sleeper fish house on Mille Lacs. Deluxe means it has beds, a bathroom, and a stove. Mille Lacs is Native American for "Freezes Ass for Fish". Good times. Good times. I am packing cards, movies and lots of food, along with the game hnefatefl. (Viking chess) The biggest surprise will be when the sled dog team I found pulls up in front of our ice shack to surprise my son and his friends with a ride across the frozen tundra.
When I heard the 6 o'clock news that I should just be sobbing or drinking, instead of in my happy little buzz, I picked up the phone and called the resort we will be staying at.
"How much ice do you have on the lake?"
"Twenty-two inches on our bay right now."
Asking if the fish are biting is just redundant.
"Happy Birthday!!", I yelled into the phone before hanging up.
My formula for happy is this,
Pi, or cake for that matter times six, frozen, add goofy infinity minus reason, plus a fraction of adventure.
Maybe we will pee that into the snow and send that scientist a picture of my equation.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
The Man Hater Woman Club
So. Storm out of here with your bags packed with out even say good bye, will you? All because you didn't get your way. Too bad I didn't notice until all day after the movie that you left.
You can lead a man to water, but you can't make him think.
How ridiculously childish. Do you think you are punishing me by withholding your grouchy coot like demeanor? I refuse to call you first this time and say,"You are what? you are what?", until you say you are sorry. Ain't gonna happen.
If you build a man a fire, you keep him warm for a night. If you set a man on fire, you keep him warm for the rest of his life.
This is hurting you more than it is me. You are out of town surrounded by strangers. Ponder that one as you deprive yourself from my company. You gotta crawl back sooner or later. After all, the pay check always comes to this address.
Men. You can't live with them, you can't bludgeon them in the back of the head and bury them under the deck in your back yard. Often.
You can lead a man to water, but you can't make him think.
How ridiculously childish. Do you think you are punishing me by withholding your grouchy coot like demeanor? I refuse to call you first this time and say,"You are what? you are what?", until you say you are sorry. Ain't gonna happen.
If you build a man a fire, you keep him warm for a night. If you set a man on fire, you keep him warm for the rest of his life.
This is hurting you more than it is me. You are out of town surrounded by strangers. Ponder that one as you deprive yourself from my company. You gotta crawl back sooner or later. After all, the pay check always comes to this address.
Men. You can't live with them, you can't bludgeon them in the back of the head and bury them under the deck in your back yard. Often.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
A Waste of Breath
As we lie in bed together, I would snuggle up behind him and wrap my arms around him before whispering a silent "I love you", against his back. He wasn't a very good listener. And I, an even worse talker.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Casting Call
"Ok now, Quinten, Spielberg, I'm ready to do this. Is the talent here?"
"Some are. Not a lot will show up until you send them the script tho, Munkay."
"The time is now boys, now. Who we got to play my hubby? Rock show up yet?"
"He can't audition for you. Not with that restraining order he has against you and all."
"Shut up Q. Shut your pretty mouth. Or I'll make you wish for a face as bad as that gore you use to shock the public with in your flicks."
"Nicholas Cage. Jeff Goldblum?"
" Good but you use them a lot there Spielberg. I think Mel Gibson. John Travolta would be perfect except I hate him. He's fucking nuts. Vain nuts."
"Mel Gibson it is."
Yes, perfect, then he can get Heath Ledger to play is own son. Heath would rock as K1."
"True but Gibson won't work with his own kid."
"Seann William Scott?"
"Ok, that's somewhat of a stretch, K1 does have those beautiful blue eyes and Sean has dark. I dunno if Sean can pull of sensitive. Not after that Duke's garbage."
"If it's looks then it is the original, "Home Alone" kid. Cept him and Michael...and he is now old enough to be K1's dad..."
Ok, so keep that role open ok?"
"K2. K2. Alfred E Newman from mad comic's. Can an animated dude play real?"
"No. I'm thinking Russell Pickering, with all his curls in "Chronicles of Narnia."
"Yes. Perfect. Make him lose the goat nose. Or the guy who played in Spiderman. Six of one..."
"Sis will be played by Annie Lennox. Or Renee Zellwiger."
"I don't think Annie acts."
"Thats good. My sister doesn't sing."
"Who is Colorado sister then?"
"Sally Field. No, Susan Serandon doing Sally Field will play her."
"Um."
"And I want Chis Reeves before his accident to play my brother. Think he can pull off playing an amputee?"
"Um. You need to talk to Travolta's shrink now Munkay."
"My parents are dead, but we need someone to play them none the less. Cross Ingred
Bergman with Jane Fonda and throw in a lot of Jackie O's grace for Mum will you?"
"Yes, I'll call special effects.."
"Dad is John Wayne/David Soul/John Boy Walton. Add Willy Nelsens love of intoxicating beverages."
"What about you Munkay? Who plays you?"
"That monkey from "Every which Way But Lose", available?"
"You do have a kinda Kristin Johnson from Third Rock thing happening."
"I think I'm more Kate Hudson or Bette Middler."
"Ugg boots does not make you Kate Hudson."
"Yeah, but I like rock stars. Lenny Kravitz care to polish my casting couch?"
"Does Mel know you talk like this?"
"Munkay you could use some extra's. Who else would we cast in your life..........
"Some are. Not a lot will show up until you send them the script tho, Munkay."
"The time is now boys, now. Who we got to play my hubby? Rock show up yet?"
"He can't audition for you. Not with that restraining order he has against you and all."
"Shut up Q. Shut your pretty mouth. Or I'll make you wish for a face as bad as that gore you use to shock the public with in your flicks."
"Nicholas Cage. Jeff Goldblum?"
" Good but you use them a lot there Spielberg. I think Mel Gibson. John Travolta would be perfect except I hate him. He's fucking nuts. Vain nuts."
"Mel Gibson it is."
Yes, perfect, then he can get Heath Ledger to play is own son. Heath would rock as K1."
"True but Gibson won't work with his own kid."
"Seann William Scott?"
"Ok, that's somewhat of a stretch, K1 does have those beautiful blue eyes and Sean has dark. I dunno if Sean can pull of sensitive. Not after that Duke's garbage."
"If it's looks then it is the original, "Home Alone" kid. Cept him and Michael...and he is now old enough to be K1's dad..."
Ok, so keep that role open ok?"
"K2. K2. Alfred E Newman from mad comic's. Can an animated dude play real?"
"No. I'm thinking Russell Pickering, with all his curls in "Chronicles of Narnia."
"Yes. Perfect. Make him lose the goat nose. Or the guy who played in Spiderman. Six of one..."
"Sis will be played by Annie Lennox. Or Renee Zellwiger."
"I don't think Annie acts."
"Thats good. My sister doesn't sing."
"Who is Colorado sister then?"
"Sally Field. No, Susan Serandon doing Sally Field will play her."
"Um."
"And I want Chis Reeves before his accident to play my brother. Think he can pull off playing an amputee?"
"Um. You need to talk to Travolta's shrink now Munkay."
"My parents are dead, but we need someone to play them none the less. Cross Ingred
Bergman with Jane Fonda and throw in a lot of Jackie O's grace for Mum will you?"
"Yes, I'll call special effects.."
"Dad is John Wayne/David Soul/John Boy Walton. Add Willy Nelsens love of intoxicating beverages."
"What about you Munkay? Who plays you?"
"That monkey from "Every which Way But Lose", available?"
"You do have a kinda Kristin Johnson from Third Rock thing happening."
"I think I'm more Kate Hudson or Bette Middler."
"Ugg boots does not make you Kate Hudson."
"Yeah, but I like rock stars. Lenny Kravitz care to polish my casting couch?"
"Does Mel know you talk like this?"
"Munkay you could use some extra's. Who else would we cast in your life..........
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