Thursday, July 31, 2008

More Stuff About ME ME ME

Flea d’Lure and Next Door To My Ex both tagged me with the '6 Random Things Meme', which I’ve done before here. Read it! You can find out how much I HATE eggs, my seasickness and there's even a pic of a hot guy! (Pandering to the women readers.)

But don’t we all love talking about ourselves more than anything? So here are six more random things you’ll need to know before we ever meet in person:

1. Flea’s got a pic of Darth Vader in her hallway. I have a pic of Darth Vader in my stairwell. Lou asked about my dark side – and there it is. I have a secret crush on Darth Vader. You can’t get much more Dark Side than that. I own a Darth Vader mask complete with voice synthesizer and can’t wear it around the house because it freaks GirlChild out. Which I don't get because she's fascinated with Darth Maul who looks far creepier. Here is GirlChild waxing on about special powers.

One of my favorite YouTube series: Chad Vader - Day Shift Manager.

2. There was a guy in a math class in college that I secretly competed with for grades. It was easy enough to see his scores when tests were handed back. On one test, there was a section where you had to choose 4 of 6 problems to solve. When I got the test back, I had a 98% and was absolutely positive he couldn’t have done better. But the butt-head did all 6 of the problems and the teacher gave him bonus points and I almost blew a gasket. I could have done all 6 too. It burns me to this day. Adam... this finger is for you!

3. When I was younger, an ostrich bit me at the zoo. In my mind, this made me the coolest kid EVER. Because really, has anyone else ever been bitten by an ostrich?

4. My cousin (or more like second-cousin) Daniel placed 6th in last year’s Australian Idol.

I believe he is the sole blood-relative with any musical talent. And after hearing BoyChild and GirlChild sing, I'm assured that our non-musical tradition has been passed on.

5. The only famous person that has ever spoken to me was Bobby Cox, manager of the Atlanta Braves, when I stood in line for him to autograph a baseball card. I left my Sharpie and he called me back to get it. WOW!

6. During our wedding reception, the wedding party entered the hall to this song:

Damn, that was a fun reception.


Posted over at Humor-Blogs

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Tale from the Radiator Underworld

I found one of my very first jobs the way most of us probably did - by hanging around listening to the 'Top Gun' album in my room and hoping Mom wouldn’t come hounding me to find a job.

"A job is not just going to come to you. You need to get out there.”

But my perseverance paid off when my next-door neighbor came to the house looking to hire my brother to deliver car parts for their small company one summer. Bro was firmly entrenched in the computer world at that point, but I was there, hands waving and yelling, “Pick ME! ME! ME! ” I suppose a chick wasn’t their first choice, but my dedication to organizing headlights and PCV valves convinced them and it turned into a four-summer occupation.

It was the BEST JOB EVER.

My uniform – shorts and a t-shirt.

I drove pick-up trucks around all day with the tannest arm in town hanging out the window blasting “Kokomo”. I was Master of the One Way Street and Back Alleys. It was complete and utter freedom (in between stopping at GoodYear and Acura).

On the downside, I had sketchy old men calling me 'Skeeter', 'Honey Chil' and 'Hey Good Lookin’. These were not the accolades you might think as there’s little competition when you’re picking up brake pads. And you have a streak of 10w30 running across your forehead.

Aside from some of the usual creepies, my only beef with the job was delivering to a certain radiator shop. You’ve most likely never been to one, but they stink. Like a punch to the gut. The pic below is the best I could find of what goes down in one of these places.

The guys at this particular shop were of the I-see-my-probation-officer-on-Tuesday's variety. The “office” was wood paneled with a tiny AC unit blasting away, flipping the pages of a nudie Snap-On Tools calendar from four years ago. The desk, broken Laz-E-Boy and assorted chairs were all covered in grease and radiator gunk. It was small, dank and dismal, reeking of radiator shop. Waiting for them to cut me a check was the longest 10 minutes of my life.

Earl: How much is that bill fer?

Me: $81.50

Earl: RAY JUNIOR! WHERE’D YOU PUT THAT CHECK BOOK, BOY? You gotta boyfriend baby?

Me: Yes. (not really)

Earl: You wanna ‘nother one?

Me: (silence)


Ray Jr: (enters with a fresh blast of radiator shop) Hey baby…you gotta boyfriend?

Me: (please find the check book, please find the check book) Sorry, already taken. (not really)

Ray Jr: (digs checkbook out of dented, Bondo-colored filing cabinet covered with faded NASCAR decals) Earl, yer such a dumbass. (Throws checkbook at Earl’s head.)

Earl: (starts writing check) Yer lookin’ pretty good – I could take you out some time. (hands me check covered in oily fingerprints)

Me: (accepts check as if it was plague) Uh huh. Ummm… thanks guys. (Please don’t gang rape me.) See ya.

Posted at

Monday, July 28, 2008

The Giant Pokemon Painting Challenge

I believe it was in the book "Cold Sassy Tree" where one of the characters is painting a mantle with a few pennies on it and he just paints over the coins, rather than removing them.

I was totally on board with that guy these past few days.

BoyChild declared the desire for his own bedroom and I was forced to give up my room that houses my vast array of art supplies along with the ancient computer designated only for doing "the books." My problem with this is that I don't really have another place to put the mountain of crap that had to be removed from that room, so the hallway has become an obstacle course of calligraphy pens, paint cans, mitre saws and foam board. Even sadder... I had to take down my fine, fine poster of Aragorn. *sigh*

Whenever I needed a little eye-candy-pick-me-upper, I'd just look his way and feel a little better. Or a lot better. There are only so many places in a house you can put something like that without folks stopping in and saying, "Oh my. And your husband is OK with that?"

The paint job took a lot longer than usual with all the crap-shifting and corner-joint-tape repair that once again involved me parked in front of the wall with a hair dryer. The shifting in our foundation has made most walls look like something from a fairground's Mad Hatter Fun House. Honestly, a doorway in my kitchen is trapezoidal.

By the time I actually got to the walls I was consciously painting over spiderwebs and smallish insects in the quest to be done.

Now doesn't this just look like he lives in a giant Pokeball?

Do me a favor and slap me the next time I say I'm going to work with red paint. Needs too many coats to look good and that stuff is a beeeyotch. Case in point:

My sister bought a house in Kennesaw, GA a few years back and I went down to help her spruce up a bit. I was in charge of painting her bathroom Raspberry. So I wiped down the walls and started in. After painting one wall, I stand back and notice that the entire wall is splotchy. Not in the this-needs-three-coats-of-paint way, but in the HOLY-S***-WTF-IS-ON-THE-WALLS? way.

See, I forgot the important part of that equation. She bought a house in KENNESAW - home of the Kennesaw Claw. Fifteen years worth of Aqua Net had been sprayed in that bathroom leaving a layer of residue over everything. My sister-in-law became my sole heir that day when she said, "Would you like me to help you wash down the walls?" *tearing up just thinking about it* This poor girl just offered to help me scrub down four walls, one of which had a layer of wet,red paint on top of it. Caroline - YOU ARE THE BOMB! MWAH!

Well, her bathroom is now a lovely Raspberry Red, it looks beautiful and D - you really should put a memorial plaque to Caroline and me in that bathroom.


Check over at Humor-Blogs for funny folk.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

PA Visit That I Don't Even Really Feel Like Writing About

Gah. That's how I feel about writing a post.

I almost had to issue a public apology for wise-cracking on the Pennsylvania roads, but was vindicated when we entered a ten mile stretch of highway that went from two-lanes to one-lane for ten miles (did I already say that?) with NO APPARENT CONSTRUCTION happening. There were also NO APPARENT EXITS and GirlChild was screaming to pee since she scarfed an entire water bottle on the sly. That would be my $2 water bottle from the un-airconditioned Pennsylvania Welcome Center where we got a KitKat to share, but couldn't because it was too melty and so we had to put it in the cupholder in front of the AC vent for 20 minutes before we could eat it.

At mile nine of the construction we hit an exit with no businesses but a trucking company so they got an eyeful of GirlChild hunkered on the grass, pantless. And I only got a little pee on my foot. And my hand.

We stayed in Frackville with a friend and hit up the amusement park, Knoebel's (pronounce the 'K') which was truly wonderful for the ages that my kids are. On a Tuesday, the crowds were completely sane and I only needed half a xanax. Didn't need the spare in my purse. Unlike my trip to Disney during Spring Break which would have benefitted from harder drugs or animal tranqs.

Here's BoyChild staring out from the crotch of the world's creepiest wooden Indian.

GirlChild just turned 5. She went on this ride.

She went on every ride she was tall enough to get on. On the last ride I rode with her, she got eerily quiet.

"Ummm...GirlChild...are you OK?" (No response.)
"GirlChild?" (Vacant stare.)
"Lean THAT way when you puke darlin'."

Are the Amish even allowed to go to amusement parks?!

We headed home on Wednesday, flirting briefly with the idea of swinging by Gettysburg. Between the rain and my retarded quest for gas, I nixed the historical visit and headed straight home. What's that? You wanna hear about the world's dumbest quest for gas? I'll sum up:

1. Leave Frackville with very little gas.

2. About 2 miles down, think - "I don't remember seeing a whole lot of gas stations on the way up, perhaps I should just turn around and go back to Frackville for gas."

3. Nix that idea, continue on and pull off at the next exit. Only trees for miles in each direction. Drive a few miles through creepy backwoods, get scared of running out of gas when I'm not even sure exactly where I am and turn back to highway. See some road workers and ask where the nearest gas station is.

4. Go down highway some more and turn off per the road workers instructions. Drive lots of miles and pray they didn't give me faulty directions while staring intently at my gas needle.

5. Find gas station and do the happy dance. Ask gas station attendant if there is a faster way to get back to highway. She says I can just stay on the road I'm on.

6. I do this and end up back in Frackville. I have just made a complete counter-clockwise loop, with what I'm SURE were only right-hand turns.

7. Weep.


Posted at Humor-Blogs.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Things In Our Playroom I Hate: Part Three & Four

Things I Hate: Part Three

Snowglobe Nun
It's a nun. In a snowglobe. With an inch of water missing.
Things I Hate: Part Four

Fun Fur Princess Dress

In the quest for ultimate cheapness, I only buy dress-up clothes for GirlChild two weeks after Halloween. Then, K-Mart has all their costumes at 90% off and we go crazy. GirlChild fell in love with the princess dress above and wouldn't be swayed by my rational talk of "That is absolutely hideous - are you sure you want that?"
That would be fun fur you see paneling the sides.
When is it acceptable to sport a fun fur princess dress?
1. you're acting out a scene from Conan the Barbarian
2. your name is Brunhild and you are a valkyrie
3. fun fur is never acceptable on a princess dress
*Note to my internets - just got back from PA. I'll be making my blog rounds to catch up with everyone today and tomorrow. Thanks for leaving me comments while I was out!

Posted at Humor-Blogs.

Things In Our Playroom I Hate: Part Two

Things I Hate: Part Two
Tchaikovsky Head Music Box

I don't so much hate this, as the giant Tchaikovsky Head just creeps me out. GirlChild latched onto this hand-me-down almost immediately, much to my dismay. And what GirlChild latches onto, GirlChild keeps and cherishes.

There was a moment of hope when GirlChild dropped and broke Tchaikovsky's Head and I praised the lords of misfortune for small favors. Then GirlChild wept, brought me the super glue and the carefully gathered pieces of Tchaikovsky and we patched him up.

Nothing makes you look like a family of rich, pretentious snots (you know the ones...they do flash cards of Picasso with their babies) like people grilling GirlChild for a word that starts with the 'ch' sound and her bellowing out TCHAIKOVSKY!!!


PS - I managed to eek this out on my friend's laptop. I hate it. I don't know how all you laptop people do it. I NEED A MOUSE!

Things In Our Playroom I Hate: Part One

The kids and I are heading north, braving the eternal road construction of Pennsylvania in the name of friendship. Could be interesting as I'm refusing to bring the DVD player with us.

This will put me out of commission for a few days, so I'll leave you with a series of items you'll be glad that you don't own. That is, if I can figure this out on Blogger.

Things I Hate: Part 1

Repeat-y Parrot

Repeat-y Parrot does what his name implies. How long does this take to get old? 30 seconds.

Q: Kids, why do you like Repeat-y Parrot?

BoyChild: I don't like him. Why? Sometimes he doesn't copy.

GirlChild: Because he copies.

To infuriate yourself even more - scream for the kids to shut Repeat-y Parrot off, and then hear your own voice screaming back at you.

Alice: Shut it off.

RP: (static) ...shut it off... (static)

Alice: Do it now!

RP: (static) it now... (click) it now... (static)


RP: (static) ...pop you on the ass...pop you on the ass... (static)

Repeat-y Parrot will be the smoking gun when social services hauls my kids away. But that's cool as long as they take RP with them.

Stay tuned for Things I Hate: Part 2

Posted at Humor-Blogs

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Posts I Heart

Throwing out some funnies this weekend from some sites I frequent. Although the first site isn't so much a funny, but a picture I adore. Check them out if you need a little entertainment.


Big Momma P. has the most beautiful picture of herself here.


The Bloggess - Thanks for the Zombies, Jesus!

"Don’t get all crazy just ’cause I threw a vampire monkey-wrench in your faulty zombie logic."

My favorite line of blogginess EVER.


Memarie Lane - a little fiction that she wrote

"Edge had been after Grimes for years, but until now the slimy bastard had kept the wheels of his operation as greasy as Paulette’s blouse after a turn with the deep fryer."


Happy Meals & Happy Hour - Before Bathtub Gangsta ever made the scene, Sue had me hooked:


The Typing Makes Me Sound Busy - J-Money doesn't write anything that doesn't make me cry with laughter. Go through and read ALL her stuff.

"I'm Justin, the Electronics manager" he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Apparently you don't have to wear any identification if your name is tattooed prominently down your forearm."


The Blog of Bex - a Southern girl after my own heart


Enjoy! Later guys.

Up at Humor-Blogs.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Tour de Sunshine!

Amy of ‘Soccer Ball and Conference Calls’ was curious about the location of my header (before I ruthlessly trash it). I figured I’d make a story of it since I’m out of ideas for the day and the kids only have three hours in camp.

When my two year Peace Corps stint was over, Chris, Rena and I decided we hadn’t had enough of filtering our water and squatting in pit latrines. I had a cast iron stomach and thighs that could crush walnuts – I should take advantage of this while I have it, yeah? Another few months of hard traveling were in order.
(Nut crushing thighs are achieved by reading mail while copping a squat over a pit latrine for 10 minutes.)

There are plenty of stories, most of which involve drying our underwear on bushes, but I’ll go with my header and tell you about our day at the Valley of the Kings near Luxor, Egypt.

We had done most of our sightseeing on our own, but felt the Valley of the Kings warranted a guide. Oh, and we got a tour guide alright – Mahmoud, who dubbed his tour group “Sunshine” and would call out “Sunshine” on his bullhorn to herd us like cattle to the next site. I’d say that ten times of hearing “Sunshine” yelled over a bullhorn was a mental limit and going back over my travel diary, I have written that the gist of the tour was “hurry up and shut up”.

(from the journal) - Dec. 27 Mahmoud “Sunshine” describing Hatshepsut’s Temple for the billionth time – “You will remember you’re still looking at the very famous temple…”

On our tour, we met a fellow American named Jose who pretty much had everything stolen in Cairo, and turned out to be a fascinating guy. It’s 12 years later and I can’t remember what made him so fascinating, but Jose and I joined ourselves at the hip immediately. We entered our own little personal world of you’re-the-most-interesting-person-I’ve-ever-met and missed getting our ID’s back from Sunshine at one point. Sunshine comes over to lecture us, we laugh it off and everyone just stares at us like we have a third head.

We shuffled with the rest of the group, endured a few more hard stares, saw fascinating things, got lectured on the idle chit chat a few more times and then join everyone walking back to the tour bus. Jose stops to haggle for a carving, and we get on the bus where we have more deep discussion. At least as deep as you can have with a guy that you met 2 hours ago. Which in our case was pretty deep because 10 minutes later I look around and the bus is empty. Jose and I had gotten on the wrong tour bus and everyone else was GONE.

Aw crap. I could only imagine the wrath of Sunshine when he found us missing. We scrambled off the bus and immediately found a taxi to catch up with our group. We attempted to slip back into the herd, but no one was slipping in on Sunshine’s watch. There was a bullhorn lecture from Sunshine and a pissed off Australian added his two cents. If only “talk to the hand” existed back then.

After the tour, we parted ways. Jose – wherever you are – that was the funnest afternoon I ever had. SUNSHINE! SUUUUUNSHIIIIIINE!


Posted at Humor-Blogs.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

New Look for Honey Pie - Coming Soon!

I've sprinkled around the rumor that I'll be getting a new, updated look soon, but I've been on pins & needles because the pic I wanted to use was all copyrighted-n-stuff.

I contacted the illustrator who gave her OK, but she needed to check with the publisher too. Fingers crossed. Penny in the fountain. Offer up a chicken to the publishing gods.

The Great Publishio was appeased by my offering of a stale McNugget found in the cushions of my backseat, so Pokemon Master Nick is hard at work on my vision as we speak.

Be prepared for a grand re-opening with wicked cool prizes. (I'm not really sure what you would do to prepare for this - perhaps relax with a gin & tonic and reflect?) I will be preparing by going outside to finish mowing the lawn and picking up the remains of a thousand water balloons.

Coming soonish.

The Teaser:


Do not click on Humor-Blogs. I'm only adding this to see if the new RSS feed thing is working.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

V.Ice: Deployed

Yo. Bathtub Gangsta - you sold out man. Hamptons my ass. Here's how a real man spends his summer vacation. (*note to self -call Bev at Creative Memories for scrappin' tips*)


Shaking hands with Stormin' Norman and saluting Ol' Blood and Guts
Dear Diary - This was the worst day of my life. The heat is unbearable and then George C. Scott slapped me and called me a 'goddamned coward' when I told him about my problems with carpal tunnel syndrome. I wish I was with BG in the hot tub right now and buying bling at Tiffany's.
Stationed at the Pyramids
Dear Diary - It's getting easier ever since they stationed me at Giza. If I can make it into the hidden passageway by 0500, my chances of not getting hit by a suicide bomber improves drastically. I'm a bit worried as the MP's are starting to sniff around with the dogs.
Mad Bow and Arrow Skillz
Dear Diary - After my two weeks in lock-up for attempted desertion, I befriended a few Iraqis who've been teaching me some local methods of assault. My first attempt with the blow gun landed me in the health unit for a week when I accidentally inhaled. And almost all the nurses were DUDES! That show M*A*S*H is full of crap.
Near Death Experience
Dear Diary - I just narrowly escaped my death and have to thank the SEALs for the rescue. I'm tempted to return and master the sandworm though because that stupid Sgt. Hulka is driving me batshit crazy. If he makes me sweep the sand out of the latrine one more time, I'm gonna snap.
Working the Border Patrol
Dear Diary - They sent me to work the border with some of the locals. I can't figure out if they were impressed with my worm skillz or if they're hoping I get hit by sniper fire. Either way, my new best friend, Aziz, is trying to score me one of those cool headpieces they wear. I told him I'd be willing to trade a gold MC Hammer jacket for one and his dealer seemed interested.
Col. Hutt's Detail
Dear Diary - The upper echelon was so shocked that I survived the border that I was assigned to Col. Hutt's platoon. They even let me steer the skiff. Sweet! I tried to get on the barge because of the hot chick in chains rumor, but it wasn't happening. I'll see if Aziz can get me on board later.
Senor Frogs
Dear Diary - R& R rocks! Who knew there was a Senor Frogs in Iraq? And now I know I'm hot...just like these guys.


Posted over at Humor-Blogs

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Trainwreck Poker

I love home games. Everything starts on level and deteriorates from there. And there's nothing like deteriorating with people you know really well - to the point where the burps are rated and the guys aren't stifling the farts anymore. I even wore my special shirt. (back/front)

It's a bit hard to read since I've washed it often, but John's Poker System offers sound advice for the bargain price of only $2.99. Always follow a hunch, kids.

WWRS - At our tournaments, Ron contributes pearl after pearl of wordsmithery (eg. Are you done cryin' like a rat eating an onion?)

We haven't had a home game in months so we had high attendance on Saturday. And these people don't come empty-handed. You've got your coolers. And six packs. Bags of chips. The usual artery cloggers. I sorta wish Code Name: Lucious had come empty-handed.

I also wish Code Name: Mad Scientist had come empty handed instead of making me drink something foul called Twisted Tea. Twisted Tea - that I kept calling Texas Tea.

Alice: Yeah, I guess that's the Beverly Hillbillies.

Code Name: Plinko: Texas Tea is a penny slot. It goes like this: (proceeds to duplicate the bonus round sounds from Texas Tea slot machine)

Alice: You just failed the "When The Fun Stops" gambling pamphlet.

With so many people, we had three tables to start.

I was seated at this state-of-the-art poker table below. Take note of the sleek, felt top and buttery soft, padded leather railing.

I wasn't even that drunk when Code Name: Dunderhead eliminated me. That picture does not deceive. My AA did in fact lose to KQ suited.

We started a second tournament in which the deterioration was completed with the birth of Trainwreck Poker. Worst starting hand took the pot EVERY TIME. And then we drank some more and started screaming CHOOOO-CHOOOOO for every awesomely bad hand that won. Or if we just felt like yelling CHOOOO-CHOOOOO, which turned out to be every 30 seconds. And then you'd make a caboose joke. And if it didn't make any sense, that was OK because you could cover by yelling CHOOOO-CHOOOO again.

Trainwreck Poker apparently suits me since I took 2nd Place in that one. My theory is that annoying the competition made for successful game play. And by yelling CHOOOO-CHOOOOO, no one can tell if you're bluffing.

(This post written under the feeling of no sleep/cotton-headedness. Pole effing sana.)

(Pole = sorry)

(Sana = very)

--------------------------------------- for me on Humor-Blogs please. You have to have signed up with HB now to vote, so don't worry about doing all this if you're not interested in signing up.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Nothing to See... Just Walk On By

Angela from My Quiet Testimony put together a list of her 10 favorite movie characters on Tuesday. I'm all about appropriating and utilizing ideas from other folks this week (thanks Captain Pork Chops and Manager Mom) and so I'm gonna tweak this list a bit and throw out a photo montage of some TV folks I *heart*. I don't know if they're really my All-Time-Master-of-the-Universe-Top 10 or not, because the instant you say Name-Your-Top-10, I instantly achieve a blank, zen-like state. So here's my Friday night swill:
Cartman & Basil

Sybil: Are you still here Basil?
Basil: No, I went a few minutes ago dear, but I expect I'll be back shortly.
Hawkeye Pierce and The Comic Book Guy

Comic Book Guy: Last night's Itchy & Scratchy was, without a doubt, the worst episode ever. Rest assured I was on the internet within minutes registering my disgust throughout the world.


Suzanne and Eddie & Patsy

Suzanne: Julia, I am just here to visit Mother and pick up a car. I do not want to have any cultural experiences. As for seeing the "real" Japan, I've noticed that whenever people start talking about seeing the "real" anything, what they're talking about, basically, is hanging around with poor people. Now, I say I don't hang around with poor people at home, why should I do it on vacation?

Eddie: La Croix sweetie, La Croix


Mulder and Daffy

Scully: Oh my God, Mulder. It smells like... I think it's bile.

Mulder: Is there any way I can get it off my fingers quickly without betraying my cool exterior?


Lucille & Chris (in the Morning)

Chris Stevens: Today, a belated apology to the much maligned Chicken Little. It turns out you were right - the sky is falling. The National Space Administration informs us that Uncle Sam's Com-Sat 4 satellite is in a rapidly decaying orbit. That's their way of saying a ton of angry space trash is heading back home at fifteen thousand miles an hour. What does that make me think of? Makes me think of a triceratops, innocently munching a palm frond when out of the sky, whammo, a meteor sucker punches old mother Earth. Next thing you know, that triceratops, along with a hundred and seventy-five million years of dinosaur evolution, is nothing but history. To that unsung triceratops and all its kin, here's a song for you...


You needn't comment. This was just thrown out in a moment of ho-hum-dom on a Friday evening.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Punch Bug and the Eternal Card Game

Captain Pork Chops just wrote a post about her hatred for the Punch Buggy game. I second that emotion and it brought back a flood of memories from college.

In my small, nerdish clan of friends who gathered most every weekend for hours of Hearts, Spades, etc. there existed Ricky. Ricky and I were cut from the same bolt of cloth – competitive to the point of insanity, which I love more than anything in a game of cards. Ricky sits at my table of the Three-People-I-Would-Have-At-My-Eternal-Card-Game. I loved that boy. Not in a kissy way. In a total adoration way. If it had ever been in a kissy way, we would have clawed each other to death and then erupted into a fireball. *sigh*

Unfortunately for me, Ricky was also a Punch Bug freak in the car. He did not punch lightly. Ricky played Punch Bug the way he played cards which meant bruising on your upper arm and a look of total glee on his face at your utter destruction.

While driving around one, fine Southern day he spotted a VW Bug and before he could punch me I screamed out – “So help me God I’m driving and if you punch me while I’m driving I WILL kill you. You can punch me when we stop.”

We pull up to the school and everyone gathers around to watch him punch me in the upper arm. In that one shining moment, he pulls his arm back and as he brings it around, his fist glances off my shoulder landing squarely on my boob.

It’s the one and only time that boy ever apologized to me.
Clicky here for Humor-Blogs.

(*note* That's Ricky and his girlfriend Dorothy in the pic, not me!)

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

My 6 Feet of Wall

Manager Mom propositioned us to blog about our space where the thinking and blogging go down.


What's your intellectual sanctuary? Where do you go to do
your thinking, working, and writing? Whether you're a cubicle jockey or a
backseat-of-the-minivan scribbler, join us and lay it bare for all to
Intellectual sanctuary? *snort* I have less of an office and more of a nook. It's not even really a nook. More like a stretch of wall with a desk that got crammed between the garage door and the rest of the kitchen.

I'd be willing to relocate, but I'm not entirely convinced that Comcast is up to the task of moving my Internet connection since it would involve 'work'.

I've labelled important locations in the picture to help with the description.

1 - Cup of coffee which will be refilled until the entire pot is gone. This is my Lucy & Ethel mug from my girlfriend, Lucy. She only gets to be Lucy because she has red hair. This has the unfortunate side effect of making me Ethel. This mug ranks second only to my South of the Border mugs. Yes, plural. South of the Border produces some fine mugware. And sombreros.

2 - My dictionary and the MASTER SCHEDULE. I honestly try to spell things korrectly in my blog or anything else that gets typed. It doesn't always work, but the dictionary that I've had since high school is never far from my hand. The Master Schedule - if this disappears, we're ALL DOOMED. The Master Schedule is GOSPEL. Consult it before committing to anything else.

3 - Photoalbum. One of many of which I leaf through occasionally for blog fodder.

4 - Bin with calculators, World of WarCraft discs, book of quotes I like, assorted crap. Here is a smattering of quotes from Alice's Almighty Quote Book In Which She Has Written The Quote But Not The Source:

Place your clothes and weapons where you can find them in
the dark.

How absurd to try to make two men think alike on matters
of religion when I cannot make two timepieces agree.

One should never feel resentment against men, never judge
them because of the recollection of an act of malice, for we do not know all the
good that at other times they have sincerely willed and achieved.

There is nothing a young man can get by wenching but
duels, the clap and bastards.

There's lots of lovey quotes too, but I'll spare you.

5 - Stuff that needs to be taken care of outside of the house. Things to be returned. Stuff other kids have left in my possession. I think I've got a pair of shoes that have been there for 2 months so far.

6 - Toilet paper roll. We use rolls of toilet paper for our runny noses. Because we're klassy.

7 - Aluminum tape and black spray paint - Crafty items for Vanilla Ice props.

8 - Cork board with phone numbers, business cards, funny stuff. Like this:

9 - Wall stuff. There are two kwality IKEA shelves that will most likely collapse under their own weight within the next year and some photos from my travels. This is one of my favorites - my friend Chris taken at Karnak in Egypt. It's been affected badly by the sun, but you get the idea.

I'd like to describe my thought process but it's haphazard at best and frequently interupted by silly things like, "Mom...I'm bleeding" or "Mom...your beer just got knocked over". I just start typing and hope for the best. I'm much more adept (or at least I used to be) and churning out SAS programs for construction data. Would you like to hear about that? Yeah....I thought so.


Humor-Blogs for funny (ish) folks.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

The Smiling Infidel's Dollar Store Extravapalooza

After reading about the plight of The Smiling Infidel and her itchy boob agony in the Houston humidity, the only option I had was to send her our very last bottle of Anti-Monkey Butt Powder. Babycakes had used his awesome powers of persuasion (the same ones he used to get me to marry him) to wheedle the precious powder out of the reps at the Vegas convention hall and smuggle it through the crack security team at McCarran Airport and back to Maryland to his chafing family. OK, really, the Anti-Monkey Butt people couldn't get rid of their product fast enough, because really, who wants to carry all the samples back home with them?

At about the same time - The Smiling Infidel revealed to me that she often thinks of me (me!) when strolling down the aisles of the local Dollar Store. *sniff* Smiling Infidel, you have a sweeter tongue (figuratively) than the guys I've dated. And she bought me presents!

On the day her package arrived, the kids and I tore the package apart like a 9-year-old trying to get to the wonky compass at the bottom of a box of Lucky Charms. We pulled out the Naked Nuts! The kids and I did go nuts, but not naked, although GirlChild is usually pretty close to that state.

The Smiling Infidel also appears to know I have a little problem with poker. And gambling in general. I love how she feeds into that. What I don't love is the oft repeated lecture on slots. I've said before that slot machines are my kryptonite and I really don't need you looking in my face and telling me that slots have the worst payout in a casino. For realz. I get it. And what I really get is a high when I hit a noisy bonus round and am surrounded by old Jersey ladies in track suits cheering me on and letting me rub their lucky Troll doll. sidetracked. Back to poker. The SI, initiator of the Hot Sox Swap, sent me these bad boys "guaranteed to improve your game as you look at your fellow card players as live prey." And really, all you really want to do is 'look' at them as live prey and not 'eat' them as live prey because aside from about two regulars, I really don't want my tongue near any of them.

I'll reiterate the fact that I DO NOT HAVE CANKLES although it could appear otherwise in the photo below. There is just something ultra-illusion-esque about sock photos. And hell - y'all are lucky I even shaved recently for that photo.

SI - I think these sock totally rock! Little cards...little clever... but my size 11 feet almost prohibited them from even sliding over my crusty flip-flop heels. I also think they supplied me with two different sized socks as the left sock reached a definite stopping point on my calf (not cankle). I will most likely not be able to look my fellow poker players in the eye or kick them in the shins while wearing these socks. *sad face*

Next in the bag-o-fun was a trio of Texas/Poker themed coozies. Don't my beers look well-groomed and ready to play?

I think I'll take these to the home game next weekend and see what the guys think. I'll take a poll to distract them as I scoop the pot. Maybe they won't realize that my two-pair does NOT in fact beat their three-of-a-kind. Maybe flashing some cleavage while I take the poll will help. Forget that. You can't do cleavage in a Hanes t-shirt without scissors.

GirlChild having fun in coozie couture:

To finish up the SI's gambling finds, she sent us this magnetized horse racing game which the kids play standing by the refrigerator. Yeah, it's as annoying as it sounds. MOVE! - I NEED ANOTHER BEER FOR MY TEXAS FLAG COOZIE.

You can never introduce your children to the world of Bugsy Siegel too early. I mean, I asked my Mom to sew four aces onto my jumpsuit in the 4th grade WHICH SHE ACTUALLY DID and now I have to pick up pamphlets in casinos with titles like "WHEN THE FUN STOPS" to make sure I don't have a problem.

SI's awesome card - it will be featured prominently in the next installment of V. Ice.

Thank you, my favorite Infidel! You rock!


You can click on Humor-Blogs if you like, but everything has been revamped and involves clicky smiley faces so you can do what you like with all that. My head hurts looking at it.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Odds and Ends

BoyChild and GirlChild were working on some driveway art which involved paint splatters. I told them there was a famous artist named Jackson Pollock who created works that were entirely paint splatters. We looked them up on the internet. And then BoyChild pipes up, "Why is he famous then?"

Excellent my son.


BoyChild's first grade class kept journals this year. He brought his home and leafing through it, you would believe that the sole adjective in his vocabulary is 'cool'.

'Dear Native American,
I like you. I even lik your dance. I like your dance because it looks cool and I like the things you mak they look cool.'

'My favorite movie is pokemon and star wars because it's cool.'

'Ash is my favorite hero because he is cool and nice.'

I'm surprised that 'nice' made it into the description.

Here are some other words of wisdom from the journal:

When asked who his favorite famous African-American was, he wrote, 'my Dad because he is fun to play with.' (If that's not funny to you...we're white.)

Why are moms important? 'Moms are important because you would have no won to take care of you and you have no food and then you would die.'

And BoyChild's friend had the fantastic - 'In school I learned to speel.'


While perusing copyright law, I found this in their FAQ:

How do I protect my sighting of Elvis?

Copyright law does not protect sightings. However, copyright law will protect your photo (or other depiction) of your sighting of Elvis. File your claim to copyright online by means of the electronic Copyright Office (eCO). Pay the fee online and attach a copy of your photo. Or, go to the Copyright Office website, fill in Form CO, print it, and mail it together with your photo and fee. For more information on registration a copyright, see SL-35. No one can lawfully use your photo of your sighting, although someone else may file his own photo of his sighting. Copyright law protects the original photograph, not the subject of the photograph.

The more you know.

And lastly, while looking for some Pokemon info, I came across this gem of a site.

'It conditions the child who plays the game into accepting occult and
evolutionary principles. Haunter can hypnotize, eat a person's dreams, and
drain their energy. Abra reads minds. Kadabra emits negative energy
that harms others. Gastly induces sleep. Gengar laughs at peoples'
fright. Nidoran uses poison. The Psychic type of Pokemon are among
the strongest in the game. Charmander, Haunter, Ivysaur, Kadabra, and many
more evolve. The children are taught to use these creatures to do their
will by invoking colored energy cards, fights, and commands. Much of it is
reminiscent of occult and eastern mysticism.'

My family and I are DOOMED! Bwahahahaha....


Check out Humor-Blogs, the powers-that-be have revamped everything and I have no idea if it's even working.

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Movie Meme Because I'm Lazy

This meme was taken from My Head is a Box Filled with Nothing. Because she said we could take it. And because it's easier for me today than coming up with something else to post.

1. One that made you laugh: ELECTION - There are LOTS that make me laugh, but I tried to pick one you may have missed. If you need help finding it, it stars Reese Witherspoon and Matthew Broderick.
2. One that made you cry: THE COLOR PURPLE - The scene where the two sisters are being separated just kills me every time.
3. One movie you loved when you were a child: THE GOONIES - Still can’t believe my Mom allowed me to see this so many times in the movie theater. As my friend Julia once said, “Goonies rocked my adolescent world.”
4. One you’ve seen more than once: I’ve already talked about my small love affair with TOP GUN, so I’ll say... THE GREAT ESCAPE. I can’t explain this one, but I watch it every time it comes on TV. Hey! Why don’t I own it yet? I love the whole escape process and how it comes together and there’s a lovely poster of Steve McQueen on a motorcycle in my stairwell.
5. One you loved, but were embarrassed to admit it: Probably two of the worst movies that my brother and I can still quote are MIDNIGHT MADNESS and BACK TO THE BEACH. Never heard of them? That’s OK; they’re not really high on anyone’s list of quality cinema. If ‘Fagabefe’ means anything to you, join my lame movie club.
6. One you hated: OK, there’s been many, but I particularly remember hating ERAGON since I loved reading the books. They tried to cram too much into too little space and I was disgusted with the whole thing.
7. One that scared you: THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT - I don’t watch many movies from the “scary” genre. I think I was scarred for life after reading ‘Helter Skelter’ which forced me to sleep with my sister for MONTHS. BWP definitely freaked me out and at the end scene with the handprints on the wall - I had to turn it off. *shudder*
8. One that bored you: BATTLEFIELD EARTH – I didn’t even finish watching this.
9. One that made you happy: STRICTLY BALLROOM - Babycakes and I love the end scene so much where everyone is on the floor dancing to “Love is in the Air” that we totally duplicated it at our wedding reception. *sigh*
10. One that made you miserable: LEGENDS OF THE FALL - But it’s OK to be sad and miserable while you’re looking at Brad Pitt.
11. One movie you weren’t brave enough to see: BOYS DON’T CRY – I don’t think I could handle this one.
12. One movie character you’ve fallen in love with: V from V FOR VENDETTA. Love the whole character and there is just something about Hugo Weaving’s voice that just melts me.
13. The last movie you saw: At a theater – 300. At home – OCEAN’S THIRTEEN.
14. The next movie you hope to see: I may suck it up despite my hatred for movie theaters and see THE DARK KNIGHT.
Feel free to do the meme if you so choose!

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Matatu Love

In Kenya, a matatu is how you get from point A to point B. A matatu is a public service vehicle, crammed with lots of stinky humanity (Alice not exempt from that statement) and possibly chickens. Maybe a goat.

They were fast. They were scary. They had to make announcements like this on Kenyan radio: “Please remember not to drive on the sidewalks, as it can be dangerous.” True story.

A matatu was required (by law) to have a cool name painted on the side like ’Love Injection’, ‘The Combine’ or ‘Thugalator’. Dave claims he saw ‘Big Titty #1’ AND ‘#2’. A matatu generally carried a placard in the front window letting you know its route. My favorite driver gave me one from his matatu and a friend had the other one made for me:


The Driver – Man who drove, generally with a big, scary wad of miraa hanging out of his mouth. Wouldn’t want the driver to fall asleep behind the wheel now would we?

The Tout – Collected money. Hung out of the matatu yelling the destination. Penchant for snapping fingers and clicking tongue to get attention.

Saved Man Passenger

SM: Have you taken the Lord Jesus Christ as
your personal savior, praise God, Hallelujah?

Alice: No. I’m Hindu.
Extra Stinky Man Passenger

Alice: It IS possible to breathe through my
mouth for the next 45 minutes.

Big Fat Mama Passenger

BFM: Habari yako? Blah blah blah... (in
Swahili at lightening fast speed)

Alice: If you speak slowly, I can understand (this was said in Swahili, but I’ve lost what little grasp on that I had.)

BFM: HAHAHAHAHAAAAA… (This is honestly how it went until I pulled out a book.)


The Western Matatu is a pickup truck in which the bed has been revamped to accommodate benches along three sides. I only took this particular type of matatu ONCE, reaching new levels of misery. For an hour, I was wedged in the back, where one of my thighs wasn’t actually touching the seat because it was resting on the thigh of the woman next to me. I emerged like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time and promptly stumbled out the back because my right leg was completely numb. With several kilometers of walking still ahead, I had to stand by the side of the road for five minutes beating the blood back into circulation.


Any small minivan was called a Nissan, whether it was actually a Nissan or not. My village got these puppies a little late in the game, but they were by far the best option for me to get to Mombasa quickly. You had three rows in the back, each holding 4 people. Two people sat in front with the driver.

Music was generally Bob Marley or Lucky Dube and they DIDN”T stop for folks with large items. If you could get a seat in the front, you were golden. You just had to be secure in foreseeing your own death as the driver passed on a blind curve.


The mini-bus was what I rode about half the time from my village to Mombasa. This matatu was larger than the Nissan, but smaller than an all-out bus. Music was generally The Ace of Base at ear-splitting levels. The downside of this matatu was that it was large enough to accommodate people with lots of THINGS. Like bananas. And mattresses. And 5 gallon drums of mnazi. Mnazi is the fermented sap from a coconut tree. Mnazi smells like wet gym socks left in the sun for a week. Mnazi tastes like wet gym socks left in the sun for a week. I witnessed Kenyans yelling at drivers NOT to stop for a person hunkered on the road beside drums of mnazi. But it gets you drunk and I suppose that’s what counts.


From the mini-bus – you made the leap to actual bus. Malindi Bus was known for its extraordinary speed and rumor has it that a Malindi Bus passed a driver in the 555 Safari Rally. They really weren’t too bad since you didn’t get the overwhelming packed-in feeling of the smaller matatus. And there was the added luxury of knowing you were on the safer side of an accident because of sheer size and brute strength.

Now that you’re a pro, just remember to haggle price BEFORE you take off!

Click on

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(Pictures are from the internet since I apparently took NO matatu pictures in Kenya. Please don't sue me.)