Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Sweetheart, Sugar Pie even Love Lumps

But when was the last time you called your honey...Darling??

What happened to that one?

It does seem like such a pretentious pet name. Maybe only the rich can get away with it. Although, Karen Carpenter got away with it in that "Chestnuts" song.

It really does sound very funny when you say it. I'm gonna call him darling tonight!

That's all I'm thinking about on this unseasonably warm end of November!

Saturday, November 27, 2010

One Hit Wonder...NO WONDER

I'm driving down the road and Lonely Boy comes on by Andrew Gold. A blast from the past. I'm all excited, I know every word and I'm blaring it and singing it and....then....it.....hits....me....WTF? Do you hear these lyrics?? Was this really a song?? Did we all sing this back in 1977 (which explains everything, I was 13 and had no clue what I was singing about).  I laugh. What if my 16 yo son heard me singing this? He already thinks my songs are lame. Talk about fuel.

Read

Lonely Boy Lyrics

here.

Shall we examine this closer??? You know you want to...

He was born on a summer day, 1951 - So far so good.
And with the slap of a hand - Ouch...guess they did that back then.
He had landed as an only son - Well...first borns usually are the only child. Remember that.
His mother and father said "what a lovely boy" - Yes, we said that when our first son was born, right before, we were smacked by the doctor and told "He has a penis".
We'll teach him what we learned - We'll also leave a lot out.
Ah yes, just what we learned - Nope. Sticking to leaving a few things out. We don't want to. screw. him. up.
We'll dress him up warmly and - Oh, and we'll feed him, too, right?
We'll send him to school - After a few years of homeschooling, though.
It'll teach him how to fight - 'Cause we're sending him to a bad, bad school.
To be nobody's fool - Yeah, not my lovely boy!
Oh, oh, what a lonely boy - Well, like I said, this is how that first child thing works.
Oh, what a lonely boy
Oh, what a lonely boy

In the summer of '53 his mother - Okay, here we go, another child. A lot of people do this you know?
Brought him a sister - Awww...I wonder if they called her handsome?
But she told him "we must attend to her needs" - yes, like being warm and sending her to that bad school you go to.
"She's so much younger than you" - Again, you're two and she's zero. Got that? You really need some math.
Well, he ran down the hall and he cried - Wait. What's the deal? Your friend Roger has two younger siblings, right? She'll be a friend and you won't be lonely anymore. We were just thinking of YOU!!! "Think he bought it?"
Oh, how could his parents have lied - Guess not. We never told you we were only going to have one child! And why the hell would we discuss this with a two year old, anyway?
When they said he was an only son - Oh, I see the miscommunication now...well, we meant you were the only one at this point. When we add another child that makes two. You would understand that if you took a math class. BTW, we still think you're lovely.
He thought he was the only one - Well, you were. Christ sakes, do I really need to effin' explain this again?
Oh, oh, what a lonely boy - Enough of that...go to your room!
Oh, what a lonely boy
Oh, what a lonely boy
[Instrumental Interlude] - la la la la la
He left home on a winter day, 1969 - He's 18, I did the math. Guess he's not going to college. Well, all he knows how to do is fight and not be a fool. Maybe he should to into the army. No fools there.
And he hoped to find all the love - Yah, he's such a catch. Poor momma's boy!
He had lost in that earlier time - Just what some poor girl wants...to give him the love he never, ever got from his mommy and daddy.
Well, his sister grew up - They do that.
And she married a man - They do that, too. Well, some opt for a professional career and then get married and some of course, marry women.
He gave her a son - He did? Was this a wedding gift?
Ah yes, a lovely son - Oh, grandma!
They dressed him up warmly - She learned something from her mom,
They sent him to school - For reading, writing and arithmetic, right?
It taught him how to fight - WTF? Really? You didn't learn anything from your brother?
To be nobody's fool - Good grief, maybe not a fool, but a sniveling brat fo sho!
Oh, oh, what a lonely boy - See? I think he should call his uncle and the two of them can go rent a cabin, cuddle their blankies and throw darts at their mom's photo.
Oh, what a lonely boy - Oh, gimme a break, we don't care! Just don't call your  mom. She's now an alcoholic-manic-depressive because of you. And she'll end up telling you about your sister who's also an alcoholic-manic-depressive. Such lovely boys, you two!
Oh, what a lonely boy - Nobody gives a shit anymore!!


Okay, he redeemed himself, he wrote "Thank you for being a friend".
Love me some Golden Girls!

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Happy Thanksgiving!!!



 May your stuffing be tasty,
 May your turkey be plump,
 May your potatoes and gravy
 Have nary a lump.
 May your yams be delicious.
 And your pies take the prize.
And may your Thanksgiving dinner
 Stay off your thighs!


Have a wonderful Thanksgiving all my new bloggy friends!!!

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

A Little Pink Washcloth

When I was pregnant with my fourth child, many of my friends had suggested that this time I not find out the sex of the baby. I had found out with all three of my boys. I loved knowing the sex, but we decided, "why not?" we'll wait.

Throughout my pregnancy I kept looking for signs,  Was I carrying differently? A little. Was I more ill this time around? A little. Someone had mentioned that girls suck the life out of you - ha. So, they all assumed I was carrying a boy, because I looked fabby.

Looking for the signs was actually obsessive fun. It was exciting not knowing what I was having, but at the same time, driving me nuts. Were these things in my mind, or were they "signs" from the other world? 'Cause we know all my deceased relatives have nothing better to do, then play head games with an expectant mom. They're all up there, sipping coffee, nudging each other "Look, she thinks that sign on the mailbox that says "It's a Girl" is for her" Bahahahah! "Let's have an 'Its A Boy' balloon float into her yard," Hahaha, LOL, ROCLMAO (Rolling on cloud...) and all that stuff. Well, let them laugh.

But there were some weird things that happened during my pregnancy, or was I just looking for them - 

When I'd go in for my monthly appointments the nurses would record the baby's heart rate. It was slightly higher than the boys (someone told us that girls are higher).

I was due after Thanksgiving but since all my boys were ridiculously late, I was preparing for a Christmas baby (my third was 13 days late). Anyway, I was making out my Christmas card list, and called a girl friend. When I told her I needed a "couple addresses," she misunderstood and started screaming - wahoooo!!! I was completely confused until I realized she thought I said "a couple of dresses." Simple misunderstanding?? Perhaps!

During one of my appointments, my OB asked me what birth order I was, I told her I was fourth after three boys, she said she was too.  She told me that was very interesting. I think she even scratched her chin. This was a new OB.

Right before I was due. I had a dream. Now I don't put a lot of stock into dreams, I'm very pragmatic in my thinking that dreams are simply our subconscious trying to work out the problems of the day or in our life. I had a dream that my uncle, who had passed away, was smiling at me holding the hand of a little girl who, in my dreams, was my daughter. He stroked her cheek and sent her off. I didn't know where, but I wasn't worried. I woke up and smiled, but really only because my uncle had never before, or has since, shown himself to me in my dreams. We know the other side can manipulate dreams. Ever watch Medium?? Huh??

When my third son was born, I was given a wash cloth set. They were tiny, terry and had different colored boarders. I took the pink one out and placed it in my closet under my turtlenecks. I was going to save this particular one, you know, just in case. One evening, I was in my closet, checked under the turtle necks and it wasn't there. I searched the entire closet, but it was gone. Later on, I had brought my basket of laundry up to my bed to fold and when I was folding my pink (extremely worn) pregnancy nightie, I felt something inside. I reached in, and because of all the static cling, the little pink washcloth was stuck inside my pink nightie. Hmmmm. Strange. How did this little washcloth get stuck in the laundry? My laundry basket is kept in the bathroom not my closet.

When I was about to deliver, we still didn't have a boys name. We just couldn't decide, we had used up the ones we loved. We had a girl's name. I was really starting to panic. When they took the heart rate it was extremely high and my husband was just all calm and said, "I don't think we have to worry about the boy's name." And here I thought it was high because I was panicking.

The big reveal!!

When I delivered, I was so excited that I beat my 9 minute pushing record (7 minutes, thank you very much), I forgot all about the thrill of hearing what sex the baby was. No one yelled "IT'S A WHATEVER" like I had imagined 100 times.

I forgot that I didn't know. I was just happy it was out. But asking what the sex was, was just never a question I had to ask before. After they had sucked the nose, someone mentioned it being a girl. I was all, "Say what??" I will admit that when they handed her to me, I did peek to make sure.

So any sure signs? Naw...but you gotta admit, the little pink washcloth makes you wonder :)

Oh, BTW I called my friend back and told her I needed a couple of dresses and yes, I used the little pink wash cloth on my new little daughter.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Really? She Had To Remove Her Breast??

(((We interrupt this regularly scheduled silly blog....)))


I really don't like to get involved in anything too controversial. And I will keep myself completely unbiased where the scanning and pat downs at airports are concerned. But WTF?????

This poor woman, opted to be patted down at the airport instead of being shot with a bunch of radiation. I completely understand. Radiation scares me too.  I am always fighting my dentist about sticking that thing on the side of my head. But this woman is a cancer survivor.  She's sensitive for a good reason. So, she goes for the ol' touchy feely.

The attendant, with her hand cupped around this woman's breast, thought it felt a little strange and asked for an explanation. The woman told her it was a prosthetic breast. The attendant then asked her to remove it. Say, WHAT????

Read the article here. I got nothing else to say.

(((We will now resume the silliness!)))

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Planning My Parent's Funeral

Awww don't feel bad. They aren't dead or anything. As a matter of fact, I went with my mom. Something about spending down some extra money and pre-paying her funeral expenses. Would that we all had everything we needed in our life, that we could start buying the things we'll need when we're dead.

Anyway, I recommend this for anyone who wants a real bonding experience with a parent.  I had her in stitches and she me.

Disclaimer: Because I hate to offend anyone, I need to warn you: I am about to make fun of funerals, funeral homes, funeral home workers, and a tiny bit of the rituals that are wrapped around death.

Still with me? Great.

First off, the funeral home is nice. Not in a Good Housekeeping kind of way, more of the Victorian Era meets the 21st Century (sure I noticed the 60" flat screen).  What wake is it that allows you to watch tv?  What are we watching, the game? Or better yet, Millionaire Matchmaker? I'd attend even if I didn't know the deceased.

So, the woman who opened the door, scared me a little and only because my hackles were up and I was a little creeped out at what we were there for. She was short, wearing all black (obvs.) and looked as though she had suffered a stroke (I can make stroke jokes, right? 'Cause my dad's had one. I'm in the club). No, she didn't have a hump  - although I looked. I wished she had answered the door "Goood Eveeening". But it was daytime.

She directed us to a room that was sparse and looked normal except that you noticed one of the walls had a big indent in it. Enough space for a coffin casket and some flowers I'm guessing.  So, this wasn't regular home turned funeral home. Not unless it's so old that it was built in the time that people had wakes in their homes - like my mom did. How convenient to have a built in spot just for Grandma's body.

If it wasn't for that small detail, the room would have looked totally normal. We waited for our funeral worker, I was praying for Michael C. Hall (how awesome would that have been??). No it was a she, and she was pregnant and she was all in black - really? Not one tiny bit of color. Does color offend the dead? When we die are we all like, "NO MORE COLOR! I couldn't stand for you to wear happy clothes." Jokes on them, tho 'cause I look awesome in black. Orange would be so much more depressing.


Where were we - yes, Ms. Goth was explaining the line items as if we were purchasing an automobile and there were features we could get or not, depending on our style and budget. It was going all fine, my mom was awesome and cheaping out and I don't blame her. We don't need a limo.  A hearse, yes! But we can throw my mom in the back of the Hyundai. She agreed, love her! We argued about the open casket vs. closed and she's all old school and wants to see my dad and thinks her siblings will be mad if they don't get to see him "one last time," good grief. I said fine and promised we'd keep hers open, but I had my fingers crossed the whole time.

We laughed when there was an additional $100 extra for her because she'll need to have her hair done. She doesn't spend that kind of money now. She's always complaining about her thinning hair that no one knows what to do with. I told her this hair dresser might be the one!

Then came time for casket shopping. I paused by the urns. Found one that was 50 bucks and said. "This will be fine for me." Goffarina said, "That's for an animal." I said, "So, I wouldn't fit in it?" She was not amused. We went for the cheapest caskets but mom didn't like the look of the light birch. "It looks like it's the cheapest one," she says. Don't want that. So, we got the walnut vaneer stain. Just like their kitchen cabinets. We picked out blue lining for dad, cream for mom - awww....I tried to get her to put an etching on the inside lid of the casket (I guess the departed will want something to look at throughout eternity) that said something about "Going Home", but she wanted the Harley Davidson -  Oh, I wish!! ((Mental note: Tell hubby to put a picture of Sting on the inside of my casket.))


Back in the room.  Gothella asked us to look through prayer cards while she tallied the amount. I asked her to please remember the pre-paid discount. Flipping through all those cards was crazy. Mom was all, "No one cares about these things, they just throw them away." Yes, indeedy they do. But she thought one would be nice to do as a reading. So I copied part of it down the back of one of my check stubs to Google later. I asked her the name of it  and she said "Afterglow." We were both howling with laughter, when our friendly funeral worker arrived and told us the damage. We abruptly stopped laughing. Apparently there is no pre-paid deal. What gives? And certainly no "buy one get one 1/2 off" deal, like Payless Shoes. So, $22,000 later - we can all rest in peace!

Wait 'til I tell dad. It's gonna kill him!

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

OMG There Is Something More Wonderful Than The Real Housewives...

Oh, I'm sorry is my flashy 13,000 karat diamond baubley thing too much for this page? Well, go to hell...I've earned it!








Matchmaker, Millionaire Matchmaker, make me a match!

Has anyone had the pleasure? Oh. My. God. Quality television!!

I don't know where to begin. Yes, I do.

You put an idiot, self-centered millionaire in a room with 8-10 money grubbing idiots. And the magic just happens! It brings a tear to my eye.

I wish they would run back to back to back to back to back episodes on Bravo!

Saturday, November 13, 2010

"Waste Of Our Lives"

This is the same brother that calls my Barry Manilow (Barely Man Enough). But is it fair to sink to the levels of calling my daytime soap a waste?

Okay, so none of the characters have day jobs. Wait. Bo and Roman are  police officers and I know damned well, they are working to solve Arianna's case. They are just really bad at it (case in point: Sefano is still hanging around his mansion drinking brandy). Yes, a lot of them sit around Brady's Pub or Maggie's kitchen (what happened to her restaurant Chez Rouge?) or the two mansions in town. I always just imagine that they are on their way into the office or on a lunch break...Okay, EJ does nothing but isn't he a millionaire? And Sammi, she's just looks for her meal ticket in various boy friends so she can take care of her four children, which are never around. Kate works. She runs a multi-million dollar kitchen something or other business. But, she has her gay assistant do all the real work. She looks amazing, tho, right?

Yes, I know it is impossible for 70 year old restaurant owners to gain access to the hospital's records and switch DNA results to prove paternity. I KNOW!!! I'll give you that this one does teeter on the brink of believability, but come on, Caroline was very concerned for her grand daughter's happiness. I know my grandmother would do this for me.

Okay, tricking out a sarcophagus (yes, they are calling it that) with video, audio, food and water is a tad ridiculous, I'll give my bro that.  I mean they've really upped the ante with the whole burying alive scheme. I know you wanted to torture poor Maggie. Too bad the tables were turned on you, huh Viv? But I do have one burning question, I need to know dear Vivian, how did you go the bathroom? Number one, I just used my imagination, but #2? Woah!

And Yes, I know that children age rapidly. Sammi is technically only 24 and yet she has a 16 yo son. Sometimes, they acknowledge this. They'll say "my how you've grown". I only wish they would wink into the camera when they said this, though, so they know we know and are all in on the joke.

So a waste? Naaahhh.....I get a lot of value from my "Waste" "Days".  Like, I learned that you should switch your pocket book 3 times in a day for each outfit. Do it all the time. It takes :30 to get across town. It's possible. There is always time for daytime sex. No job and no children so WTF.  It is possible to COMPLETELY recover from being shot point blank into the base of your skull  in a couple weeks. But they shaved EJs head, so it's all believable.

AND, and this has saved me more times than I can count, never whisper about your affair, or that you are concerned about the paternity of your baby (well, I have gramma's help for that) or the poison you just baked into brownies because Someone. Is. Always. Listening.

In the words of my brother... "I think it's time to Mo Vaughn."

Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Power of (maybe not right) Now

I think I'll write this blog tomorrow.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Toe Cleavage Makes Me Gag

And other equally disgusting, gross foot things that maybe only gross me out.

Toe cleav....Ewww...can't even write it again...I can't stand that little "Y" peeking out  at the tops of lady's shoes. Yet, I can't help staring at it. Put it away. It's bad enough I have to stare at your actual cleavage, on your feet it's just wrong.

Cracked heels. Now I have cracked heels all winter. It's gross and I'd like to tell you that I scrub them in the shower with a hard piece of coral until I build up little piles of crusty skin. But it's winter so, NO I don't care, much like my hairy legs.  I don't even care that my sock snag on them as I try to put them on (the heels and the legs). But in the summer? If there is any sign of a crack even thinking about showing it's ugly head, it is scrubbed and lotioned and vaselined to within an inch of it's little crappy, cracky life. But for some women, this grossness alludes them. There all talking and I can't concentrate 'cause all I hear is     c    r     a     c     k.  GROSS....

The least offender of the pod is the chipped toe nail polish. I get it, we're all busy. We all run out of time. But somewhere between that little chip that came off and that little chip that is left, there's a lot of time. Get on this! It's not like your feet aren't staring you in the face each day. You really can't miss them.  Or, don't do it at all. NO!!! Scratch that. That's another thing that kinda grosses me out. Unpolished toes. I don't even like looking at my own unpolished toes, but it's winter, so no one can see. Ewwww!!!

Let's not leave the men's feet out 'cause if truth be told, they should all just be chopped off....

Oh, help me Lord if my husband accidentally brushes up against me with one of those things.  Gag.

Long toenails - gag! And if they are discolored - gaaaaggg!!!! And if he's wearing sandals so I have to look at them - help me!!!!!   And if they try and carry a conversation with me? (the man, not the toenails, but really it's the toenails I hear). Great, I think I'm gonna throw up my power bar!

And Holy Mother of God if my husband ever gets too old that he can't cut his own hard, yellowish toenails,  it's off to the vets. And you can bet,  I'll be gagging the entire way.

(Maybe I was a misunderstood podiatrist in other life.)

Monday, November 8, 2010

Fear Of Commitment

I. Cant. Hit. The. Purchase. Button.

On  iTunes.

I just can't commit to a song. I will hear a song on the radio, run home, stick in in my shopping cart (oops, sorry, that is so last week, my, um, wish list) and I just leave it there. And thank God. Cause when I go back a couple months later, I am like "what was I thinking?" My husbands all, "it's only a buck, just buy it." Then he laughs at what I actually put in there.

At one point I thought I was being all contemporary and I put a song from Hoobastank in there. Do you see what I mean? I like Blink 182 but will I tomorrow?


It has taken me 3 years and I still haven't used up my $20 gift card.

Is there a support group for this?

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Smells Like Teen Something Or Other

Oh, yes it does. All over my house. Axe, Axe, Axe!!!! I have three boys. God, give me strength or at least  5 years of nasal congestion. I don't need an alarm clock to get me up in the morning, no siree Bob. My sons get the gentle berating from the buzzer to wake them up, I get the wafting aroma of Kilo. It is so not gentle, it's an assault!! It is not the best part of waking up, I assure you.

I am like a canine following the scent of a killer. I can track their exact whereabouts. They start in the bathroom, then head to their bedroom, then down the stairs, to the family room, back to the kitchen, back up to the bathroom and back down again and finally, out the front door, down to the mailbox. Yes, oh yes, I can continue to follow their scent to the mailbox and I am sure if was brave enough, I could follow it onto the bus. But that would be stupid because I know it would just be drowned out with the other killer's, I mean teenager's scent. How does the bus driver stand it?!

Around 2:15 it starts to dissipate. I have 15 minutes of fresh air. I can almost smell my cookies baking and  then WHAM they are back in at 2:30. It is still clinging to them. Did they reapply on the bus?

My sons both ran out of Axe at the same time, I know, crazy right? It must be like when girls get their period at the same time if they all live in the same household. (or, perhaps when a mom goes out into the woods and holds down the spray button, jk). And it was a couple of days before I could replace it. Okay, I wasn't running right out, maybe I was going to enjoy my scented candles for a day, maybe I just needed a break. Is that too much to ask???!!!

Here is where I eat a little crow, scrape the egg off my face - not sure which of these is correct but...

Good Fah-ree-kin' Heavens!!!! Bring back the AXE!!!!

It really took just two days. That was all it took. Two little ol' days...my flowers wilted, food didn't taste the same, my hair straightened all by itself, my husband stopped smiling, my daughter stopped dancing, neighbors began to fear the worst, we all lost our zest for life, neighbors began to worry, did I mention that? I think they called 911. I can imagine that call...

911: What is your emergency?

Mrs. Kravitz: Um, I'm not completely sure. But there's an odor coming from my neighbor's house and we are REALLY concerned. We are beginning to think the worst.

911: Have you seen anyone go in or come out of the residence?

Mrs. Kravitz: Well, yes, that's the strange part. I did see the father leave yesterday, actually, he ran to the car, rolled all his windows down and sped away. It's so very strange. But that smell. You don't think..? They were such a happy family. No one would have expected this.

911: We'll send help right away.

Mrs. Kravitz: You may need to bring an Axe!

Friday, November 5, 2010

Dear Ozzy,

You don't mind if I call you Ozzy do you? I mean we have been close for, what? Well, I guess somewhere around puberty we met, right? That's many, many moons ago. We have been close that's for sure and at first when you arrived, I was horrified. How could I explain your presence to my friends? I mean you hung out with my older brother and although I know it was hard for him, he was a boy and that's a little different.

I read that you like to hang out with kids that like sports. Ozzy, why me? I mean, I dabbled in gymnastics, but sports was really not my thing. So many jocks to choose from - even the popular girl would have been a better choice for you? She probably would have enjoyed your company.

"A gift from your grandmother," my mother would tell me. I wish I had known that you knew my gram. She might have been able to give me some advice about having you around. And although you weren't that bad during the day, you reminded me nightly of your presence and that hurt. But I grinned and tried to bear it, as they say. Just another growing pain.

But then as I got older and wanted to wear short skirts and look all sexy, you always stuck out. You always had to come with me and make me more self conscious than I already was (remember, I wouldn't see a flat iron for another 20 years).

Always trying to remember to cross my legs a particular way to make you less noticeable, it was crazy! One time I forgot and someone called you by name.  I guess you aren't really a stranger to many people. You get around, Ozzy!

The point of this letter, Ozzy, is that I hope knowing me is enough for this family. Two of my children seemed to have escaped you but I have two more and it seems that the jury's still out. But, I do understand genetics, so Ozzy, if you have to pick one, pick the boy.

Diane

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

"What's Your Favorite Movie?"


This is writing prompt #3 but I didn't like seeing that as the title.  I think this is my last prompt, for now. It's been fun and I made it a whole 3 days. I think I have writing ADD - need to move on to the  next thing. I will, however, revisit these from time to time....

So, what's my favorite movie?

This one's hard because I have many. I can, however, narrow it down to two:

The Shawshank Redemption based on Stephen King's short story Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption. I have seen this movie 9,000 times because I am powerless to change the channel if it's on. And it is always on.

Love, love, love Tim Robbins and love, love, love Morgan Freeman.

And any man who can spend 17 years digging a hole in his prison wall each night, then emptying said wall out onto the prison yard the next day, THEN crawl through a river of shit to "come out clean on the other side", deserves to maybe, just maybe, be free!

Somewhere in Time with Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour. Sappy as all get out. But the time travel thing has me every time - which came first??? Did she hand him the watch and then he went back to find her? No, cause she got the watch from him when he went back in time, but he got it from her in the present...ahhhh!!!!

I have watched it with my kids and freaked them out, too. Well, only #3, he's the only one that would really get or not get the whole time travel thing.

It's really is just a wonderful, romantic movie. But damned if each time I find myself praying he doesn't whip out that penny! Oh, and can I tell you Christopher Reeve is one nice looking, tall glass of water!

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Writing Prompt #2

"If you could go back in time and meet your 16-year-old self, what three things would you tell yourself?"


1. Spend more time this last year with Gram. Tell her that her sauce is amazing and no matter how hard you try, you'll never make it as good.

2. Invest in Microsoft - I mean c'mon.

3. Get a flat iron. I don't know when they were invented, girl, but don't walk...run!



Can I tell her a couple more....please!!! Don't bring the camera to the beach on your honeymoon. Kiss him.  Ask for another anesthesiologist for your third child. DO NOT start playing Tetris.

Okay, I'm good.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Writing Prompt #1

Okay, so I came across this blogging site and they are encouraging people to write a blog a day for a month. Could I do this? Well, they give you writing prompts and  I'm thinking, I'm a little stuck right now - why not? A whole month? Maybe not, but let's see what happens...

"Japanese lore suggests that if you fold 1,000 paper cranes, your wish will come true. What would your wish be, and what would you be willing to do 1,000 times to get it?"

Well, I wouldn't fold 1,000 cranes because then I would end up murdering my family and that would land me in a host of trouble. Soooo...what would I be willing to do 1,000 times to get my wish? Make out with Sting? No? Oh, it has to be something tedious and awful? Of course it does 'cause you wouldn't get a wish if you had to do something enjoyable.

I would watch 1,000 episodes of iCarly. No. I take that back. I would paint 1,000 little girls' fingernails. Oh, that's just absurd. I would - wow this is hard. I would listen to 1,000 Biggie Smalls' songs? NOOOO!!!

I have a question. Are these lame wishes like a new car or vacation or an addition on the house? Or can we bring someone back that left us too early? 'Cause if we can...

...I WOULD eat 1,000 live worms!