My Left Foot

In 1998, before I knew the wonderous-ness of Carolyn, I was at Last Concert Café. I don’t recall who was playing that night, unfortunately. I have tried over the years to recall more about that night, but beyond what I did and what this girl, Courtney, was wearing, my mind is blank. Last Concert looks like it has been pieced together over the years. You enter at the front door, walk through a tiny, tiny restaurant area, pass the corner bar, you walk through a swinging door to get to what once was the stage area. Towards the front there are restrooms, which are scary and always made me wonder if they were port-a-potties built into a wall. Off to the right, there is the stage which has a garage door at the back, which opens into the backyard. In the back, there is a large stage, a dance area, picnic tables, all sorts of room. In June of 1998, a Wednesday night, we ventured to Last Concert…again...I don’t recall all the particulars of the evening, I was not a huge drinker at that time, and was highly intoxicated by the end of the night. We were outside, the band that was playing on the small inside stage was taking a break. I needed to use the potty. I saunter onto the inside stage and promptly find myself face first on the floor. In my intoxicated state, I did not realize that there was a foot drop off from the stage to the floor. I crushed my ankle in the fall, nearly blacked out after I pulled myself up, hobbled to the bathroom line and sat in a semi-fetal position for some time.

The reason that I recall it was a Wednesday night is because the following morning, we were leaving for South Padre Island where my sister was to be wed on Saturday. And where I was to be a bridesmaid in some strappy heels. It was a quasi-Catholic ceremony so much standing and sitting and standing and sitting ensued. Much pain was experienced. At the reception, my sister’s maid of honor, an occupational therapist, babied me throughout the reception, bringing me Coke to go with my dad’s bottle of Crown. My family kindly provided me a clear view of all the festivities, including the mariachi band, my Uncle requesting they play the Yellow Rose of Texas and then getting down with my Aunt. Fun times. I don’t recall quite how long it took for my ankle to heal that time. I do remember I had to take time off from my job because I couldn’t handle a 6-8 hour stint of being on my feet. But it healed.

The next major fall was at my first paralegal job. I was leaving for the day, carrying a few boxes, my empty coffee travel mug, and I missed the first step, and rolled down the next 6. I landed with my ankle underneath me. I managed to get up, get to my feet and then home. Where I realized that I had done some damage. It swelled quite quickly, bruised over the next several hours and refused to bear any weight. The next day at work, my attorney suggested I go to the doctor. I finally gave in and visited a local walk-in clinic. Once I uttered that it had happened at work, boy howdy, those folks knew their ship had come in! I was given the royal treatment! I left that place with a splint, crutches and lots of happy pills. I was told to return 2x a week to check the progress. Each visit resulted in an offer of more happy pills and further treatment. Lots of further treatment. Lots of Billables! What a scam they had going. After about 4-5 weeks of this, I felt well enough that I told them no more and shut down their scheme. Also during this time, I moved. From my one bedroom ground level apartment into an apartment with my ex on the second floor. If you are moving, may I recommend you injure yourself prior to doing so. Makes it much easier! Those stairs were a bitch though for the next few weeks on crutches.
While I managed to remain injury free for the next 5 or so years, the ankle was weak for some time. If I worked out too hard, I would notice. I was much more prone to turn it in my stupid work heels. If I sat on it, it would complain. It has been an on-again, off-again issue for years.

And yesterday….



R-I-C-E

Rest
Ice
Compression
Elevation

My sister’s maid of honor instilled that in my brain so many years ago. I have never had a chance to forget it. Dammit.

Mama Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Waitstaff

I started working in the restaurant industry at the tender age of 17. I left the wonderful frozen yogurt industry for the lucrative career path of a Bennigan’s hostess. On my 18th birthday, I was thrilled, I could buy lotto tickets AND wait tables. Wow. A big day in a young girl’s life. I quickly trained and began what ended up being a 7 year career in the service.

I became a waitress at Bennigan’s and in the process of a couple years, moved to Dallas, quit Bennigan’s for the better paying Outback Steakhouse, and later moved back to Houston. I started dating one of the fellow bartenders at the restaurant in Houston. And quickly became indoctrinated in a full-blown party-all-the-time environment. This restaurant, as so many others, had a close-knit staff who would go to the local bar after work and then find an after-party at a friend’s house once the bars shut down. This time period is when I became acquainted with Whataburger taquitos at 3 A.M. and between those and the copious amounts of Bud Light, gained 20 pounds!

All the while, I continued going to school, working towards my Associates and Paralegal Certification. At the age of 25, I finished these degrees. A full 7 years after graduating high school. Shortly after receiving my certificate, I began my first paralegal job. I continued working at the restaurant for several months as well. I finally quit the restaurant business, but did not quit the party lifestyle.

The partying during my college days, when I did not have a day job, consisted of drinking pretty much every night, to drunkenness most nights. Missing classes because I didn’t feel like sitting in class for several hours feeling like ass. Going to work hung over. All my friends at this time were from the restaurant. We had our routine, go to work, go to our local Cheers, go to my then-boyfriend’s house, pass out sometime between 2 A.M. – 6 A.M. Get up, try to get over our hangover, go to work, rinse and repeat.

This culture is rampant within the restaurant business. It starts nice and easy, going out after a hard night. Once you start making friends with all your co-workers, it becomes a lifestyle. You get so attached to your friends and this lifestyle that it becomes extremely difficult to walk away.

If I didn’t have my dad’s pushing from the time I was a mere fetus, I may not have got out. Through my drunkenness, I knew that I had to finish college and start a better career path. One of my biggest fears, even now, is to disappoint my parents. Thank goodness.

I worked as a paralegal for 3-4 years while still dating that guy, still living that lifestyle. I slowly decreased the amount of partying. It is quite hard to work in a busy, stress-filled litigation firm while tired and hung over. The weekends were usually a free-for-all, but the weekdays slowed. This did not slow down the ex or my friends that were still working at the restaurant, of course. They just saw less of me.

Fast forward to that glorious day where I walked into Gallery and bought my furniture. This was such a pivotal moment in my life. I quit so many things that day. A bad relationship, many relationships with friends based solely on drinking, drinking to excess, hangovers, crappy self-esteem, empty pockets, and so on and so forth!

That day was 2 years ago. It really bugs me to know that many of the people I worked with and partied with 5-6 years ago are still there. Stuck in that time. One of my best friends from high school is still there. She hasn’t escaped that sickening treadmill. And although I try to push her out of it, she has remained. My ex, at 36, is still there. I know more people that are still on that track, than are off of it. How I, and they, survived so many drunken nights, and so many drunken drives, is beyond me.

I am grateful that I escaped. I don’t miss a bit of it.


(Couldn’t find a good one from Willie…sorry!)

Today's Top Story

Good news day.

There needs to be sweeping reforms, but this isn't it.


Ha ha Crazy Joe! Your perfect little world is starting to implode.


On a personal note, I am just over halfway through Left Behind. I am deeply interested yet terrified. I think I watch a few too many apocalypse shows on National Geographic channel. I haven't decided if I will do a book review on it. This is such a heated yet highly personal topic. And since I am not sure how my own beliefs truly lie right now and where I will be at the end of the book....I am leaning towards no. Yet, there is much to be discussed and analyzed....not sure I want to do it here, however. I will recommend it be added to your Summer Reading List.

Peace out.

Let Me Show You the World Through My Eyes

I am woman...watch me shop...

I know that when I am out at the various places I buy my Ebay wares, that I should be buying strictly for business. Only for others, not thyself. I pass on quite a few things that I desire. There, of course, have been times when I buy things for myself. However, more often than not, the things I end up keeping, are things that at the time, I had all intentions of selling, but get home and either can't figure out how to sell it, find that it just won't sell, or that it is worth nothing...or sometimes just fall in love....

So today, we shall have a picture show!

Welcome to my kitchen.

These trivets are so pretty.



You woulda thunk that I bought them as a set. You woulda thunk wrong. The bottom trivet was the first to join this household. It was so pretty, I snatched it up at an estate sale in Big City #1, approximately 2 hours away. This was an intentional "I want this" purchase. My house is varying shades of brown, which I am trying to brighten with various shades of red and orange. It sat alone on my counter for a long time, with no idea exactly where to put it. The top trivet, which I call the male trivet, joined our cozy shack just a week ago. I found this here in town, at a warehouse that a family is trying to empty out. I have found lots of treasures there so far...but to find the matching trivet! I was thrilled. I brought it home and hung these tout d'suite. What luck that I was able to obtain a matching set!

And for the wide shot, Yoda decided she needed to be in this pic.



Look at those sunflowers! Recently added to the baskets. There are cookbooks piled by Yoda that I have obtained from various sources over the years. The top one is a Better Homes and Garden Cookbook that is in a bit of rough condition and couldn't be sold. I also have one from my grandmother from 1947 that my mom almost threw out years ago.

I always shop alone. I can move faster, buy less. I have a system, man! But...on one trip to the Big City, the dear joined me as we dealt with the what seemed to be never-ending problems with his super bad-ass computer. I, of course, wanted to hit a few sales while there...and did. However, we picked up something for ourselves as well.

He spotted these bookends.



There were a similar set of horses, I was requested to make the final decision on which to buy...I decided on these. Yes...you spy a Houston Texans little mug or shot glass there...I am a die-hard long-suffering fan...that was also an intentional buy for the gentleman of the house. And . . . in order to keep it real...I did have to pre-clean this area. Here is the left of that table....




I sure wish I could sell the 12 pairs of sunglasses that are scattered around our place....And that is the remaining Jolt gum from this weekend's fun festivities of sleeplessness.

Unfortunately, although Sammy commented that I knit...I do not...I tried and failed. I do, however, sew an awesome pillow. A crafty project I have undertaken many a time. Here are the latest ...


Along with the two sewing bags I have also ended up with recently.


These both were bought with the intention of reselling. The knitting bag on the right was purchased full of old patterns that are available on Ebay now! The mushroom bag on the left was meant to be sold; however, it has a few spots where the plastic is worn so I decided not to post it. My original sewing bag can be seen at the very bottom of the Mushroom Bag...A Giraffe Print Kate Spade Handbag! Once upon a time, in a very scary part of Houston, there once was a Goodwill that sold all of its items for $1.00. The vast majority of my handbag collection came from this magical kingdom. I bought this particular bag specifically because it was a Kate Spade...but then noticed it was a kinda nappy material and turned it into a sewing receptacle. It was overflowing before I obtained the Shroom Bag.

My current dilemma is .... (oh the dilemmas I am plagued with...what should I eat for breakfast, should I shower today, when should I lay on the couch and watch TV....oh the stress!) which bag do I use? I am partial to the mushroom currently as it holds everything so nicely. If the knitting bag on the right, had the material choices reversed, it would win hands down. Check out the inside.


I love it! The outside is brown...and the brown-ness in my home is choking me to death. So I am not sure that bag will make it through my next Salvation Army run. Pray for it please.

And just off to the left of the couch...is stored a portion of the motherload, usually camouflaged with extra pillows.


And . . .now this is the part where Lady K shakes her head in disgust...the book stash.



We do not have bookshelves here...although we are prepared with the Saintly Bookends now! So...underneath my end table, we have stashed all the books that my dear ever used in his college years that he refuses to part with for some insane and illogical reason. Not that this bugs me..no ...of course not. But that is where you will find our books. Mine are nicely held in the box.

And wait...what is that cross stitch thing I spy....a post for another day!

Well folks, thanks for spending some time viewing my world. I am off to drive around town in my repaired go-cart. Braking for no other reason . . . than I can! BooYaa.

(Oh I am such a helpless white girl!)

Homebound

Our household currently has 4 vehicles at our disposal. My Corolla. His truck. His motorcycle, that I can’t drive because it weighs as much as my Corolla. And now his official company car, which of course, I can’t drive, because he needs that job so I can sit around and play with the cats all day. So, between two people, we have four vehicles. Four. So…you may wonder why I am homebound, unable to go anywhere, am discovering our town does not have taxi service and am scheduling USPS to pick up all my Ebay packages. That would be because I am an expert, near genius level, at breaking vehicles.

So, let’s start with my dear Corolla. I love that car. She has been very good to me for a number of years. I, on the other hand, have not been kind to her. She has waited patiently for new brakes for some time. They were on her Christmas list last year, but Santa only brought coal (of course, mixed with a bit of ethanol and all in a liquid form). She again asked for brake pads for Valentine’s Day, President’s Day, Easter and Flag Day. I am a true wench. And well, my dear Rolla finally had enough. She has decided to protest my horrible treatment in the form of the loudest screech and grinding that you have heard. So…she is parked.

Ok, Vehicle #2. I begin driving the man’s truck due to the Corolla’s temper tantrum. Big hulking truck that it is. It sure served me well when I needed it for the motherload. It served me well when I had to make numerous trips to various fast food establishments this weekend. And when I needed to deliver packs of Jolt! Gum, beef jerky and Cokes to its rightful owner. The truck was wonderful. It cared for me just like his owner would. But, apparently, it heard that smack I talk. Maybe I discussed how it was so big and inconvenient for me. Or perhaps how I hope my car gets fixed soon. Or, the theory I am going with for now, how his daddy, my dear, was going to park it, in exchange for the company car that was soon to be bequeathed. It decided to exact revenge. And not start.

So, these delivery missions I had been pursuing were ongoing from Saturday morning until Sunday or technically Monday at 1 A.M. My Baby Truck Daddy had a very very very very important work deal-i-o. He did not have the time to run to the gas station across the street for Jolt reinforcements. He needed sustenance in the form of Quarter Pounders. And a back massage every few hours. I am a good woman, so I delivered. Of course, until I broke the 2 vehicles that were in my care.

So…what is a girl to do? Well….have you ever driven a vehicle without using the brakes? You should try it sometime…it is fun…but don’t let a cop see you running all those lights and pretending to California stop, because when you are going 10 mph, I don’t think you can claim it is a California stop. My recommendations, be very aware of the roads where you are driving and typical traffic patterns, look far ahead and try to time the lights and other vehicles in your way. And most importantly, have your hand on the parking brake to slow down as needed and in case of emergency.

Yes…I did it to my poor car. Twice. I am a wench. Once for a Sonic run. And then at 1 A.M., a McD’s, and Jolt from the Gas station run.

Now kids, these were dire circumstances. This presentation had the ability to make or break our future here. He stayed up all night, came home at 5 A.M. to shower and change, just to go back to work and give the presentation to the big wigs that had driven into town just for him, without a lick of sleep.

Now, his loving girlfriend, who had taken care of all his needs the night before, let him come home and fall asleep as soon as possible, right?

No. Remember - I am a wench. We were not sure if it was a battery issue or a starter issue or the alternator. What was the deal on the whole truck not starting? So I, leery of the lack of transport, and needing a vehicle for the interview I had today (ha, snuck that in, didn’t I!), made him remove the battery from his dead truck and test it. It was ok. A waste of time and the last reserve of energy he was able to muster from his right pinky toe.

Sleep was then permitted. It was a 14 hour sleep. And he woke up very refreshed today. And dropped me off for an awesome interview, and then picked me up again once it was completed.

What a man! I may just let him replace the starter tomorrow, instead of today. Hmmm….maybe not…I really want another Vanilla Rootbeer from Sonic!

Thank God for Good Directions . . . And Turnip Greens

In order to get edumacated and rich, I read the Ebay forums quite a bit. Several different boards in order to learn how to best raise my sales, find products, handle persnickety people, how to ward off Nigerian scams, etc., etc. They are a wealth of information. I was always so jealous when people would post how they happened upon the motherload of selling items. They were walking down a dark alley one night, heard a noise, jumped into a doorway, the door fell down and they found 1,000,000 Elmo dolls. They received a call from dear Aunt Jolene, who happened to have 16,000 1961 Betty Crocker cookbooks she needed to get rid of – in mint condition. They were driving along and a box of Tommy Bahama clothing fell off the turnip truck.

I have hoped and prayed that my day would come. And boy howdy, did it. I was driving along on Saturday with my trusty phone book map, detailed with all the spots where I was to hit, used in conjunction with the paper that is marked numerically. I could very well be a freak. If I spot a sale that is not on my carefully numbered list, I peek and stop, if and only if, it is not stained baby clothes and broken toys. An hour and a half into my journeys on Saturday, an extremely hot and humid morning, more like a Houston morning than a desert, I saw a sale, the signs were good. No strollers or car seats. I stopped. I was in the garage when I heard that they were selling what was in the house as well. An Estate Sale. Sweet.

These don’t happen that frequently in my small town, but they are the best source of stuff! This house was packed, thousands of LP’s in the living room, they had a hat collection that had to number in the thousands as well. I had found a few crafty items in the garage. In the living room, I happened upon a bookshelf full of books, I loaded my arms full. And went about my business. Until I hit the dining room. MECCA!

Boxes upon boxes of patterns, crafty books, vintage fabrics. The entire room was packed. There was barely any space to walk. I heard the angels sing. Heaven! On Saturday, I walked away with 3 boxes of stuff, for $10.00, a bargain at any rate. I told my love that I was not allowed to go shopping again the following weekend as I was getting behind on all that I had, even before I hit the motherload.

On Sunday, I knew the estate was reducing prices. So, I was alone and bored yesterday. Now, the additional 5 boxes and 3 bags of stuff should keep me busy. Folks, I filled the truck bed with all that for $3.00. That is also more than they were asking for. $3.00. Wowsers.

My house is stuffed. All those places where I had cleaned out crap and returned it to Salvation Army, now are filled. And I am so not allowed to go shopping this weekend! I have enough to keep me working for a month at least. Woohoo. I hit the motherload. It must be a blessing that I am so undesirably unhire-able in this town.

Austin City Limits

According to PBS' website, ACL is shown across the world. Is this true? Please comment, I really wanna know about where you are at. I have lived in Texas since I discovered the wonderful world that is Austin City Limits. I was thrilled when I discovered that in Near Texas, New Mexico, they show it. However, I bet I am watching the PBS that is broadcast from Texas...so anyhoo.

As my ridiculous number of music loving posts show, I love music. There is nothing else that is so relaxing and thrilling all rolled into one big goopy ball of love than a live show. My absolute best time ever would be at a show. The test for my dates is exposure to a live show.

I was lucky enough to catch the last bit of tonight's ACL, Alejandro Escovedo.

It was just a matter of time before I posted about Alejandro. His music is just .....i can't even begin to think of words suitable. It goes from being jazzy, upbeat, funny to soul bearing, tormenting, tear wrenching. On Rosalie, talking of joining his love after death. Five Hearts Breaking, about divorce and the breaking of not only the couple's hearts, but the children's as well. And then sweet and tear wrenching on Your Wedding Day.

His website has a different song on each of the various pages. They start without warning for you work lurkers. The discography page has one of my favorite songs, Crooked Frame.

I am watching/listening to the ACL show from his MySpace page. Check it out. And if you decide early in that it just isn't your thing, please listen up until the instrumental part of the first song. Then think again. (There are just 2 songs on the clip).

I love the violins and the upright bass thingies or whatever they are. You know, I did drop out of my flute playing career about 6 weeks into 5th grade. I just don't know these things. I just know what I like and Alejandro is on that list.

Man, when I am in Houston for a couple months, that work business is really gonna get in the way of me catching up on shows.

P.S. This is from a post on his Myspace. I LOVE Castanets, K you may know it, I had it as the song on my page for awhile. Funny. I wonder if W likes Thrill Kill?

Cult rocker Alejandro Escovedo ended a self-imposed live ban on his song Castanets yesterday, two years after it emerged the track was on President George W. Bush's iPod playlist. Escovedo was astounded when it was revealed that the American leader had Castanets saved as a favorite on his iPod player in April 2005.

Despite his opposition to the Bush administration, Escovedo finally decided to perform Castanets at the Stagecoach festival in California on Sunday. He told a cheering crowd, "This is a song I fell out of favor with after it ended up on George W. Bush's iPod top 10 list.

"What sort of bad karma is that for that to happen to me. Anyway, he (Bush) is on his way out, so here it is."

Friday Fumblings

My house is spotless. Well, mostly. For the past couple days, my BFF and I have been encouraging each other to step away from the computer and clean...or in my case, get onto the computer and post Ebay stuff.

I received some craptastic news yesterday that forced me away from the computer. It is amazing how much thinking you can do while you type along creating descriptions for items. And I didn't need to think. At all. Thinking = bad.

So, the two of us, states away from each other were scrubbing and dancing and singing and all sorts of dirty fun. I put my Ipod on my arm, cranked it up and scrubbed away. I have to admit, the first 6 months I live in a new apartment, I don't scrub much. It was cleaned so thoroughly by the last tenant in hopes of retaining their security deposit, that a cursory clean usually is enough. Of course, in this place, that was not done. We don't have security deposits, the employer of the snoozer pays the landlord, we just move in and dirty stuff up. So my apartment had a decent layer of soil I didn't feel like scrubbing at first.

But I scrubbed and scrubbed yesterday...on my knees scrubbing and the music couldn't keep my sorrow away. I broke down crying, on my knees in my foyer (hehehe hoity toity-ness, I have a foyer). Life sucks sometimes. Death really sucks every time.

When I wrote my Dad Day rambling, I thought of including my Uncle in it. I held off though as my Dad is awesome enough, he shouldn't have to share any space with his brother. My Uncle isn't expected to make it through the next couple days. The last time I saw my Uncle was at his daughter's funeral. The family gathering I referred to in my Dad post where the whole family went nuts and started screaming at each other. Yea, tons of fun.

This was, I believe, 5 years ago. So, when I saw him last, out of all the conversations we had in the 5 days I was there, the conversation that stuck out in my mind was this...after the burial, we went to a small country church up the road from the best place ever for a cemetery. So peaceful, quiet, absolutely gorgeous. Also the place where he flipped a VW bug when he was a young and reckless soul and nearly killed himself. And where his wife has since been buried and where he will join her shortly. Anyhoo, at the church, he gives me a huge bear hug and asks if I am going to be giving him any grandkids before he dies. I laugh it off, and tell him that I am not the married one, go bug my sis (she wasn't present). He responds, I don't care if they are bastards, I want some grandkids!

On my knees, scrubbing my floor yesterday, I fall apart from this memory.

Sorry, Uncle L, I was unable to give you what you asked for. But I love you so much. Thank you for treating me like one of your kids, all these years. I sure miss you and am going to really miss you once you are gone.

PSA: Don't smoke. Smoking has stolen my second Dad from me way too early. I am mad at him for this. He knew better. He is leaving ....4 kids, 9 grandkids, 1 great-grandkid, my sister and I, and my niece (soon to be 2 nieces) without his presence. Without his callous, rude, hilarious, loving presence.

I pulled myself together and was able to keep going and put it out of mind with some Rev. Do you know of the Rev? You need to know of the Rev!



It is kinda weird and kinda cool that people are getting to know the Rev from Guitar Hero...But, well, whatever.... Now go to Half or Amazon and buy Liquor in the Front. Do it. Now.

Reason #5 Why I Hate It Here

This. On my patio. Playing with my cats.

WTF.

They reproduce sexually. Ouch.

Only a few species can kill me. Only the ones that live in this state. The antivenom is only in Arizona. Arizona is really far from me. Why is it only available in Arizona? What is so special about Arizonians? Damn you, Bill Richardson!

I am now itching all over. I want my man to come home and tear the damn thing apart limb by limb and then burn it. And then spray the ashes with the mildew remover that killed the biggest spider in the entire world earlier on the patio. And bring in the rugs that are drying out there, that are probably embedded with deadly scorpion eggs now....great....

And I just read . . . just because your cat was stung by a scorpion doesn't necessarily mean it will die....comforting.

omg...give me love bugs, 4 inch long water roaches, fire ants, and all the other multitude of Houston bugs. They aren't scorpions!

What is Really Destroying Civilization

The snooze button.

I live in the west sorta, and our civilized home is not so civilized when snooze is hit every 9 minutes 9 times in a freaking row.

What the hell is snooze? Who invented this evil monster that is ruining our lives?

This is how life is supposed to operate. You go to bed, you set the alarm for the last possible minute that you can sleep. The alarm goes off, you run out of bed, perform the 3 S’s in under 5 minutes. Run to your car, travel down the freeway at the speed of light, run from your car to your building, and when you enter the door, wipe the sweat from your brow, try to hide the fact that you are heavily panting, slink into your office, trying to remain undetected as you are late. Life is grand.

This is how life operates in my household on 3-5 weekdays. The alarm goes off. It is silenced. The alarm goes off 9 minutes later. It is silenced. 9 minutes later, again. Again Again Again. For usually an hour, sometimes less, sometimes more. Then the male portion of our household saunters out of bed. He takes a 15 minute shower and slowly performs all the morning activities and then leaves the house. A full hour and a half after the first beeping.

I am awake at the first sounding of the alarm. My body is fully aware of the routine of panic at the sounding of the alarm. Alarm means you get up. You do not delay. If the fire alarm was going off, you wouldn’t want to hit snooze wouldya?

If I am feeling kind and loving, I will stay in bed for the next 2 snoozes. Once it is clear that snooze is in full effect that morning, in order to attempt maintenance of peace, I get out of bed instead of doing what I would like to. Throw the alarm across the wall. And the snoozer along with it.

I propose the end of snooze. We can all get back to a kinder, friendlier time when we all got out of bed immediately and with a mission. To make it to work no later than 9 minutes late each day. Stupid 9 minutes.

... And just to further the declaration that snooze is bringing down civilization, I have been advised that the writing and posting of this blog post may result in a kamikaze teabagging mission.

I Have A Date for the Fourth!!

I have kinda mentioned that I have a thing for redheaded singers, and I haven't even mentioned one. One that got me through the very rough time in eighth grade when Eric broke up with me. And no one wanted me. No one! I was single, at 13! A sure sign that I was gonna be a crazy cat lady when I grew up....but I was comforted that another carrot top was suffering as well:



Oh, Tiffany. Thank you for all that you gave me. I will be waiting for you at the casino....I hope you can handle our fashion here.




P.S. I Had to add this song...Check it out, she has some awesome dance moves in her long wedding dress. And the synthesizers! And HEY was that video taken at the bar down the street from my house? Sure looks like it!

I Thought You Were Doing That!

We are about 5 weeks out from our proposed European tour. We have a few things to do still. Like get Him a passport. Book tickets. Decide where we are going. Get mad cow vaccinations.

Our planning to date has involved: “Hey babe, you wanna go to Europe?” “Oh, yea. Let’s go to Europe!” And I checked out some books on Europe. And then I renewed them. And paid a fine because they were late. …I hope they aren’t late again. Shit, they are!

Yesterday I looked into the passport situation. Even with expedited service, they are recommending you apply four weeks in advance of your trip. So, he needs to apply ASAP. That has problems of its own. He isn’t technically a NM resident. Yet, the gov’t will send your passport wherever your ID says you live. Well….problem. So he is deciding on that.

I was on hold yesterday for about a half-hour with the State Department, or the Passport Service or whoever is behind travel.state.gov. I needed to know about the above-stated problem and about a change of address. Do I need to do anything if my passport has an old address? Their website doesn’t say a word, customs webpage doesn’t, the nice lady I spoke to didn’t have a clue. So I guess I don’t need to worry….

See, our problem is…we both expect the significant other in the relationship to do the big work. He was expecting me to research this stuff and plan it out and make sure we were all good (in the hood!). But I am not really a big social planner. I expected him to get all this stuff outta the way. He brought up the idea, and he knows I am not good at plans. So he was supposed to. And I am very busy, with all this workiness.

He said this morning that it sounded like such a great idea, but when you have to do all the planning, it doesn’t sound as good anymore….see that damn P word. We hate that word.

So I don’t know what we are gonna do. Because we both really suck at planning things. But I can make damn good French toast. I wonder if some French guy could plan out our vacation for us.

Stay tuned. This is a breaking news story. We will interrupt your normally scheduled program as necessary.

My Dad

My parents were high school sweethearts. In fact, my sister wore my mom’s prom dress as a Halloween outfit one year – she was a clown. It was a hideous dress. My parents went to prom in my dad’s ’67 Mustang. They were married in 1971, had my sister when they were 20. I came along 3 years later.

My dad worked as a mechanic for many years. For pay, he worked with heavy machinery. In his free time, he worked on cars. He rebuilt many a car in our garage. He rebuilt the engines, painted them and put them on display in our front yard. Much to my mother’s chagrin. He had his girls right under the hood with him.

He bought another ’67 Mustang when my sister was in high school. It was her car until it went kaput shortly after we moved to Texas. She bought another car. And me…I was 15 that summer. I spent that summer cleaning car parts and working alongside my dad rebuilding the engine. I had to earn that car. And my first car was a cherry apple red Mustang. Sweet.

My dad did not receive his high school diploma, he was a bit of a brat, got mad and left school some time during his senior year. My dad was always embarrassed that he hadn’t finished high school, that he worked his ass off at lower paying blue collar jobs. The one recurring theme of my childhood was the expectation, the demand, that I go to college. And do better than he did. This was a mantra. I heard it probably once a week while I was under his roof. One of my few regrets is that I have not received my Bachelor’s. However, my dad is still proud of what I have accomplished in my career. I hope he realizes it is all his doing.

My dad was the youngest of 5. 2 girls, 3 boys. He was about 6 years younger than the next older sibling. Throughout my life, my dad has always been the one the others look to. He was the executor of my grandmother’s estate. Any family scandal or tragedy, my dad was called in to referee. When my cousin died a few years ago, there was a knock-down fight at her house among various family members. My dad was called in to break it up and calm everyone down. I was always fascinated that he was delegated the role of peacemaker, being the baby.

When I was 15, after living in the same town in Kansas all my life, we moved to a suburb of Houston. My sister has alluded to a few of the reasons behind this and some marital problems surrounding it, but I was completely unaware of this. I know my dad always loved Texas. Our only big family vacation was a drive down to Galveston where we stayed for a week. In retrospect, it was the best thing that could have happened to our family. My parents made a lot more money, we had a nice house in a nice neighborhood. My sister attended a great college. And well, my high school is probably the only negative thing to come of it….ha! That move, reviled as my dad was at the time, was the best thing that my dad could have done for our family.

Watching my dad now, as a grandfather, is fascinating. He gets teary watching my niece sleep on his Buddha belly. He tells me of his conversations with the cutie, repeating all the things she says. (This week, she won’t talk to Grandpa cuz he is smelly.) He hopes that I will settle back in Houston, so my parents can live in Corpus Christi, and be close to both his girls and his grandkids…and close to the water.

When I was growing up my dad was very hands off. I didn’t really know him. He stayed in his world, didn’t attend our school events, didn’t involve himself much. As we got older, I think he realized that it shouldn’t be this way. Now, once a week, I get a call from him when he is at lunch or driving home from work.

My parents are the example of what I want. The respect and deep love they demonstrate for each other is amazing. While I know it wasn’t always so, what they have now, after 36 years together, is what I aspire to.

I wish I could see him today. I am going to call him now.

Glenn Beck - End of Days

We just finished watching Glenn Beck's show on Headline News. The topic was "End of Days", the end of time as prophesied in the Bible. First off, my dear grew up in an extremely religious family. His father is also extremely brilliant. One night on the phone they were discussing the origins of the Pythagorean theorem or why Pi is 3.143213254213 or why the pull of gravity on Jupiter is stronger than the jet stream. Something so far over my head it was about as far over it as Jupiter is away from my head. Point being, he grew up with these types of discussions. He is also very keen on politics. He reads Drudge constantly, chats on message boards, he is fanatical.

So while watching the Beck program he was able to further elaborate on all the topics to help his formerly agnostic girlfriend understand half of what was being discussed. He even pulled up wiki on Gog and Magog....man, this guy is brilliant!

Here is the transcript of the show. It is quite interesting with the rising (truly continuing) distress in the Middle East. As he is called around here, Crazy Joe. Israel and oh boy, what is up with Hamas and Fatah? The Israelis took their toys and went home, so the Palestinians had to start fighting each other.

There really isn't a point to this post. I just wanted to document this whole discussion because I want to read the Left Behind series and the Epicenter book by the other gent. Because I don't think I can finish Coulter's book. I have really tried to......

Recent Correspondence

Hello,
I apologize for this intrusion since I do not know if I am
writing to my intended recipient. I decided to contact you
through email due to the
urgency, as my earlier letter was returned undelivered. Anyway I
need your co-operation in receiving USD8.6M that has been in a
dormant account with my bank for over 3 years now under
inheritance claim.

30% of the total sums will be accrued to you upon the
confirmation of the funds in your nominated account. Although it
may seem small, but you
have to understand and accept this since 40% of the total sum
will go to charity, as my entitlement here is also 30%. I need
your co-operation
here because the account holder an Iraqi Chieftain and
businessman lost his life during the war and I being his account
officer, I have tried to
reach any of the next trustees, but to no avail and since I am
not in position to make the claim, I can establish you before the
bank as the heir to the bequest. It is very important that the
claim is made, as the bank will turn the funds over to the
treasury anytime from now if it remains unclaimed.

I will provide you with detailed information on the modalities of
this operation once I have your interest but I must say that
trust flourishes business. Therefore let your conscience towards
this proposal be nurtured with sincerity. I don't think I need to
spell out the importance of Secrecy in this Matter considering
the amount involved. I will bring you up to date with all the
information as soon as I hear from you. So, if i don't hear from
you within a period of one month I will assume you are not
interested and will solicit for a new partner, but if you know
you are interested let me know.
Waiting to hear from you.
Thank you
Liu Yan


Dear Mr. Yan: Thank you for your email. All I was able to understand from your lengthy correspondence was blah blah blah, I am going to give you 30% of 8.6 million. If my math teachers were able to instill any knowledge into my feeble brain, this would mean that you owe me $2.5 million. Please forward payment in that amount immediately. I expect payment within 7 days. My preferred payment method is Paypal. If you prefer, you can also send a money order. If I do not receive your payment within 7 days, I will file an Unpaid Item Dispute, seek my final value fees and leave you negative feedback.

Sincerely, Fianna

Just a Quick Extra Note

I didn't get any comments about that little Ebay tidbit. And I don't know, I think I am a bit of an attention whore.... and I like to gross people out a bit. And it seemed that I had done neither.

However, I realized that a ridiculous amount of stuff comes up....so go back to Ebay....

Then in the search box, put this #

180129431657

That is what I am talking about, folks.

Millions sitting in my closet I tell ya. How about well worn purses....hmmm....what is the market on that?

Are You Done Working?

I created a new folder for my Innernet stuff today.

*You may need to click on it to see it better. I couldn't figure out the rest of the process....

Maybe I will get more work done. But then again, if it all goes under due to inactivity, that could be my fault.

Giving Back

I have mentioned before that I shop at estate sales, garage sales and thrift stores to feed this Ebay work I do. Well, I also fill my home. I buy knick-knacks, clothes, shoes, Purses (with a capital P), kitchen things, and so on.

I also have mentioned that I am a bit clean freaky.

Today was the day I returned a bunch of that stuff to the friendly thrift stores. I filled my little car full. You know the old circus act of stuffing 20 clowns in a car...they should totally do that with my Corolla. That car has been stuffed so full, so many times. For such a little car, it holds a ridiculous amount of things. You can fit most of my worldly possessions in that car. And I have been told by my roomie that I have ALOT of worldly possessions, and purses, and coats...

So we have a little more room in the office and in the bedroom. And you should totally hit up the Army for some really cool stuff. Including used cat toys. I decided to not sell those on Ebay this time. Although someone in Rio de Janeiro has Yoda's last set. Weirdos.

Oh....and I think it would be a bit icky to do a link off to the side, so I am gonna bury it here. You wanna see something sick? Go to Ebay right now....

ya there?

Ok... now search "Well Worn"...




I could be making millions...






Ewww.

Worky Work

My first paralegal job was at an IT consulting company. Shortly after 9/11, our business tanked as several of our largest clients went under. One by one, employees were laid off. The remaining employees started taking on multiple job duties and titles. Several people left knowing that the boat was sinking. I held on and held on. Through two separate mandatory weeks off, without pay. It was close to my house in a suburb of Houston. No commute, and the ability to go home at lunch is rarity in Houston.

During the second mandatory time off, I received a call from one of my main bosses on the 4th of July. The first thing I said to her was, “You can’t fire me while we are on vacation!” They can apparently. I was laid off. I quickly got my next job, the one that I left to move out here.

It was my one and only job separation that I was not in control of. I don’t change jobs frequently, but I always leave them. (Kinda like my men!)

Well, today I have a second job to add to the list. The job that I had for 3 hours. Well, in theory. I was supposed to start a job tomorrow. I was excited. It was a part-time gig. They were accepting of my short-term status. I was raring to go, ready to make the best of it. And then, the agency called to say nope, uh uh. Sleep in tomorrow.

Apparently, you can be let go on your vacation and when you haven’t started yet.

Waa.

Fodder for Thought-er

I am not going into too much detail at this time on the following links. We used food stamps once and my mom was so ashamed she took us to the grocery store that was literally across the tracks instead of our normal store. The food stamps were actually my aunt's. My cousin was in a horrific car crash. Her brothers came to live with us while she was in ICU. This incident stuck in my mind. First, the utter shame my mom felt having to use food stamps. Second, that my aunt had them. No comments on this statement. I know my family, you don't.

Several years later, my mom worked nights at an ice cream place to make extra cash. 2 parents, 2 (and then 3) jobs, 2 kids. Thin dinners to be sure. But we made it. And I don't remember suffering at all during this time, just remember my mom working. And knowing her, with my adult take on this, it had to be Very Bad for my mom to work fast food.

So,...I got involved in the first post on VA with comments on the livejournal post. All I wanted to feel from the poster was humility. Be ashamed that you are accepting a handout, be grateful, and find a way to get out from the circumstances.

VA Starts It

VA Follow Up

Vodkarella, in case you don't wanna read VA

I think VA's follow up is very important to reiterate what a lot of people overlook both when discussing this issue, when chastising those on welfare and for those that attacked the chick-a-dee linked by VA. Shit happens. Really bad horrible shit. And when it does, thank goodness we have a fallback. But I still stand by my statement that you have to get yourself out of it. And I won't even start on the whole lack of savings in the U.S. and planning for said shit. Mostly because I would be saying stuff that contradicts with me sitting on my computer at home each day instead of taking that $10 an hour job over the hills and through the cacti. So, read this and get mad, but use your noggin. It is a good discussion that keeps getting rehashed over and over and over.

And hell, it is a lot better than listening to Bill O'Reilly and Geraldo get all pissy with each over about Paris F-ing Hilton.

EDIT: Please check out this little follow up edition between my BFF and I on this topic-o.

Basketball Blahs

I love football. I like baseball. I tolerate bowling, curling, and aerial skiing. I hate basketball, tennis, NASCAR, track/field events in the Summer Olympics, um .... that is at least a good list to start with.

May I please reiterate. I hate basketball. Boring..... Why do I have to watch the entire damn game? Can't I watch the final 2 minutes only? Do I really, really, really have to watch every game of this series?

I was told that Yes I did have to watch every single game. Didn't I realize that this is Lebron James' long awaited finals debut. The Spurs are the only team worth their snot right now in Texas, so this is a very important series I was told. I was also told to quit making fun of Van Gundy. Oops!

In football and baseball, each score matters. Alot. The entire game can depend on that one score. I can watch football all weekend long and still want more. I can't really watch a baseball game for too, too long on TV. That gets a bit boring. But I used to work blocks from Enron Field and went to tons of games. The oranges in the train are a nice touch, but the name Minute Maid Park is kinda Gay. So, let's just call it Enron, now shall we?

(After review of this post, Not Craig has advised that I do NOT have to watch the games. I can take my computer into the bedroom. I can read a book in the bedroom. But each game IS going to be on our TV. Pray for a sweep!!)

So This Isn't Home Sweet Home. Get Used To It

I have a friend that left Houston a couple years before I did. She and her husband just returned for a short vacation, a showing off the kid, catching up with old friends whirlwind tour.

I am a bit nervous about returning to Houston in September.

Bon Jovi was wrong, you can't go home. Because it isn't home anymore. It has ceased to be home. Everything and everyone has changed. Including you.

During my conversation with my friend, we gossiped about our friends, she caught me up on all that I have missed. She visited our local Cheers. And man, was she happy to get on a big jet plane, with her 18 month old son that was throwing up every 3 1/2 minutes. She wanted to get back to her real home. The home she had created, away from home.

I grew up in the same small town until I was 15. We then moved to Texas. I hated my parents for a long time. I had to make friends, start over, be the new kid for the first time in my life. It wasn't pretty. My mom found and hung a wonderful framed picture.

Read the title again. My mom was brilliant. And ever so right. And ever so wrong.

I don't call this place my home yet. But it is. The things I love are here. The boy, the cats and all the material belongings I like to dust on a regular basis. Home is where you make it. This is home and I better damn well get used to it.

When in doubt, post pictures.
My brain hurts, not enough sleep recently.
Fred Thompson is a damn good candidate. Oh yea, and Rudy... 9/11, yea I have heard about it. Thanks. Could you discuss something else?

I really want Fred to be in the debates already. It makes me a bit nervous that he hasn't thrown his hat in yet. I wonder why he is waiting? What purpose does this serve? Why does he not want to join in the debates? Sure he is supposed to announce on Independence Day. Is there a reason for him not to get in now?

Idiocracy

A while back, we rented the movie, Idiocracy. I recommend it. I recommend that it be shown in our classrooms. I recommend that college courses be created about it. I believe that we should get rid of the various tests required to graduate high school and require an intellectual study of this movie instead.

The idea of Idiocracy is that far off in the future, Bubba has sired lots of kids, Bubba, Jr. sired lots of kids, and Bubba, III, sired even more. So in a couple hundred years, Bubba’s family tree is the largest branching tree in the world. On the other hand, Matthew (or James or Not Bubba) has delayed having children, his and his wife’s careers are very important, and they need to wait a few more years to start. They don’t have the resources just yet, but in a couple of years, they will start a family. And splat. Not Bubba dies. Eleanor, his wife, is now in her 40’s, childless and without a husband. Their family tree is non-existent. This continues on across society. And in approximately 2500, a WWF-esque President is in power. Carls, Jr. sponsors Congress. And society is well, royally retarded.

Ah well…. Now I look at Youtube…here ya go.



Here is the trailer.




After watching this movie, I was shocked that it had no presence in the box office. I don’t recall ever seeing commercials promoting it.

The concept behind the movie is what I have been worried about for years. Too many idiots reproducing, too few intelligent people throwing out offspring. Too many bad parents continuing to reproduce, while those people that would be excellent parents, either delay it, have a single child or don’t have children at all, thereby reducing the number of offspring born to intelligent folk.

For many years, while dating men just above Clevon’s level, I thought that I shouldn’t have children at all in this society that is quickly degenerating into chaos and stupidity. Now, dating a chess playing, Magna Cum Laude intellectual, not a beer-guzzling Nascar fan, I feel that I need to have a multitude of spawn to counteract the effects of the Clevon’s in the world.

And while I am at it, put this in your pipe and smoke it.


And this is why I am fearful of the continuing rise of Wally World.