Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Bob Morris Earns His "I'm a Total Dipshit" Badge
Next thing you know, he'll be accusing them of planting "mind-control" devices in the Thin Mints! Moron!
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Been a Long Time (Since I Rock and Rolled)
It's been awhile since I've taken the opportunity to dust off my laptop and entertain the masses with my pathetic attempt at entertaining prose. LOL Thought I'd take a few minutes to reflect upon the good old days. Now, according to my teenage son, I'm so ancient that the "good ol' days" must surely involve large reptillian creatures roaming a newly formed earth, and such profound advancements in modern technology as "fire", and "the wheel". But, I can assure you as I jettison through my thirty-seventh year on Earth, that the most archaic inventions that I can recall in the hazy corners of my memory are "Atari" and "Cabbage Patch Kids".
I spent countless hours yesterday afternoon, trying to convince my son that somewhere between my nerdy years of high school and the mundane and practical years of today, there lurked an adventurous, popular, and. . .(dare I say it?), COOL, me. I was freakin' awesome! Totally beast! (Okay, okay....maybe not THAT great... but, at least I didn't wear my slippers to the mailbox!)
I used to stay out all night... now, I'm in bed by ten. I used to sing old Zeppelin tunes with the band... now I sing about good manners and the importance of friendship with Barney. I used to eat cold pizza and drink warm beer for breakfast... now, it's something tasteless and whole grain with a side of YUCK.
I've metamorphasized from my former self. The parts that were once smooth are now wrinkled. The parts that were firm are now saggy. I've transformed into this strange being that I hardly recognize from decades past. But, somewhere along the way, I've learned things...gained a wisdom that was once clouded in the midst of too much hairspray... lying dormant deep within myself until I was mature enough to truly understand. I try to tell my kids about the secrets I have learned; try to open their eyes to the realities of life before they have to experience the pain and disappointment of taking the wrong paths. But, they are young, and they know everything.... just as we all think we do at that age.
Somewhere between the after-school snack and an hour of "GuitarHero", I tried to enlighten my son with these words of wisdom:
1. You create your own happiness.... don't look to others to provide it for you.
2. Be yourself. If people don't like you for who you are, then they are the ones losing out.
3. Empathize with others.
4. Always do your best.
5. Listen to your conscience.
The list went on for several minutes, my son feigning attentiveness as he strummed on the plastic-video-game-controller-GuitarHero-thingie. I addressed every issue that I remembered ignoring when my mother spoke to me... many, many years ago.
It was then that I learned one of life's hardest lessons. You can't protect your kids from everything painful in life. It is the pain and disappointments in life, and the way you choose to deal with them that make you an adult. It is dealing with and learning from your mistakes that forms your character. It's something you can't teach. There are no lectures that will soften the blows in life. There's no way to cure every boo-boo with a band-aid and a kiss. You have to let go... even if it's just a little at a time. It's hard.
So, maybe there are countelss differences between my son and I. But, passing through my life...remembering my youth... I can see the similarities. So, yeah....it's been a long time since I rock and rolled. But, I haven't forgot the lyrics yet!
I spent countless hours yesterday afternoon, trying to convince my son that somewhere between my nerdy years of high school and the mundane and practical years of today, there lurked an adventurous, popular, and. . .(dare I say it?), COOL, me. I was freakin' awesome! Totally beast! (Okay, okay....maybe not THAT great... but, at least I didn't wear my slippers to the mailbox!)
I used to stay out all night... now, I'm in bed by ten. I used to sing old Zeppelin tunes with the band... now I sing about good manners and the importance of friendship with Barney. I used to eat cold pizza and drink warm beer for breakfast... now, it's something tasteless and whole grain with a side of YUCK.
I've metamorphasized from my former self. The parts that were once smooth are now wrinkled. The parts that were firm are now saggy. I've transformed into this strange being that I hardly recognize from decades past. But, somewhere along the way, I've learned things...gained a wisdom that was once clouded in the midst of too much hairspray... lying dormant deep within myself until I was mature enough to truly understand. I try to tell my kids about the secrets I have learned; try to open their eyes to the realities of life before they have to experience the pain and disappointment of taking the wrong paths. But, they are young, and they know everything.... just as we all think we do at that age.
Somewhere between the after-school snack and an hour of "GuitarHero", I tried to enlighten my son with these words of wisdom:
1. You create your own happiness.... don't look to others to provide it for you.
2. Be yourself. If people don't like you for who you are, then they are the ones losing out.
3. Empathize with others.
4. Always do your best.
5. Listen to your conscience.
The list went on for several minutes, my son feigning attentiveness as he strummed on the plastic-video-game-controller-GuitarHero-thingie. I addressed every issue that I remembered ignoring when my mother spoke to me... many, many years ago.
It was then that I learned one of life's hardest lessons. You can't protect your kids from everything painful in life. It is the pain and disappointments in life, and the way you choose to deal with them that make you an adult. It is dealing with and learning from your mistakes that forms your character. It's something you can't teach. There are no lectures that will soften the blows in life. There's no way to cure every boo-boo with a band-aid and a kiss. You have to let go... even if it's just a little at a time. It's hard.
So, maybe there are countelss differences between my son and I. But, passing through my life...remembering my youth... I can see the similarities. So, yeah....it's been a long time since I rock and rolled. But, I haven't forgot the lyrics yet!
Friday, June 27, 2008
An Ode to Baloney
I was making my kids' lunch yesterday, and wondered to myself, "what exactly is baloney?" I assume it's some sort of meat mixture... a little bit of pork, a little bit of beef, possibly a bit o' chicken thrown in for good measure... some spices and preservatives added to make it more appealing. Everything chopped up, shaped and sliced into little greasy round disks. Mmmmmm.... sounds delightful, huh?!
I've relied on baloney for years to make a quick lunch whenever the kids get bored with grilled cheese or soup. I think that perhaps baloney hasn't received the attention it deserves for it's convenience and dedication to feeding hungry little children everywhere. Even the word "baloney" has come to have derogatory meanings and connotations. How is that fair in the world of cold cuts? Why should "honey chopped ham" and "oven roasted turkey" get all the glory?! Why has baloney... the pioneer of the deli department....become such an outcast?! Oh the humanity!
So.... in honor of baloney, I've written this little poem.
An Ode to Baloney
Baloney... salty, spicy meat
you smell of sweaty, unwashed feet
Within the bread you often sit
a greasy, salty slice o' ........... (I think you get the picture...)
Whenever there's no time to dine
a slice of baloney will do just fine
Tho' your taste doesn't leave us begging for more,
I guess that's what the ketchup's for!
(hey... I never claimed to be a poet!)
Until next time.... enjoy your lunch!
I've relied on baloney for years to make a quick lunch whenever the kids get bored with grilled cheese or soup. I think that perhaps baloney hasn't received the attention it deserves for it's convenience and dedication to feeding hungry little children everywhere. Even the word "baloney" has come to have derogatory meanings and connotations. How is that fair in the world of cold cuts? Why should "honey chopped ham" and "oven roasted turkey" get all the glory?! Why has baloney... the pioneer of the deli department....become such an outcast?! Oh the humanity!
So.... in honor of baloney, I've written this little poem.
An Ode to Baloney
Baloney... salty, spicy meat
you smell of sweaty, unwashed feet
Within the bread you often sit
a greasy, salty slice o' ........... (I think you get the picture...)
Whenever there's no time to dine
a slice of baloney will do just fine
Tho' your taste doesn't leave us begging for more,
I guess that's what the ketchup's for!
(hey... I never claimed to be a poet!)
Until next time.... enjoy your lunch!
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Fight to Lose the Winter Baggage
Well, folks, it's nearly bathing suit season again. (yikes!) Time to shed the extra pounds that won't seem to let go. Time to rid ourselves of our "muffin tops" and get ready to spend hours in a fitting room looking for an article of clothing that we'll probably only wear ten times or so. (BTW....a "muffin top" is that superfluous roll of excess body fat that hangs out over the top of one's pants....reminiscent of the way Play-Doh oozes through your fingers when you squeeze it in your fist.) Unfortunately, mine is more like an "exploding souffle" than a "muffin". And since my treadmill has inevitably become an overpriced coat-rack over the winter months, and the sheer thought of using it makes me want to become bulimic as an alternative... I can tell it's going to be a losing battle. (sigh)
So, here I sit... trying to mentally calculate the yardage of Lycra required to conceal my gelatinous rear-end. I glance over at my collection of workout videos, (some still sealed in their original plastic overwrap) and wince. My old friend, Richard Simmons, stares back at me from the cover of a video case, mocking me. I don't have the energy to "sweat to the oldies".... I don't have the stamina to "Get Down the Pounds"! I'm lucky if I'm not winded when I get back from the refrigerator during the commercial breaks!!
Anyway, being poor, surgery is not an alternative, and I have to think of something! Maybe I could add weights to my wrists when I dunk my jelly filled eclair into my extra grande Cappuccino ? Or perhaps I could order that thingy that Tony Little swore would melt my pounds away on that infomercial I watched last night? (Oh...that's right! I already have a coat-rack!) Perplexed, I reach for a bag of Cheezy Puffs. I always eat when I'm perplexed. LOL
After much thought, I've decided to just wear a T-shirt in the pool this year. (Just like last year...and the year before that....and the year before...)
Heck....I never really liked swimming anyway.
So, here I sit... trying to mentally calculate the yardage of Lycra required to conceal my gelatinous rear-end. I glance over at my collection of workout videos, (some still sealed in their original plastic overwrap) and wince. My old friend, Richard Simmons, stares back at me from the cover of a video case, mocking me. I don't have the energy to "sweat to the oldies".... I don't have the stamina to "Get Down the Pounds"! I'm lucky if I'm not winded when I get back from the refrigerator during the commercial breaks!!
Anyway, being poor, surgery is not an alternative, and I have to think of something! Maybe I could add weights to my wrists when I dunk my jelly filled eclair into my extra grande Cappuccino ? Or perhaps I could order that thingy that Tony Little swore would melt my pounds away on that infomercial I watched last night? (Oh...that's right! I already have a coat-rack!) Perplexed, I reach for a bag of Cheezy Puffs. I always eat when I'm perplexed. LOL
After much thought, I've decided to just wear a T-shirt in the pool this year. (Just like last year...and the year before that....and the year before...)
Heck....I never really liked swimming anyway.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Happy Valentine's Day (Bah! Humbug!)
Well, it's Valentine's Day. Yippee. (Again, with the sarcasm...) The altered pagan Lupercian festival, and ancient Roman rite of passage, during which adolescent men would be randomly assigned a woman "companion" for the duration of the year. The "lucky ladies" names were drawn randomly, lottery style, and they would become the "playthings" of the young men who had drawn their names. (How very romantic!)
The Roman emperor Claudius II had forbidden marriage, because he felt that married men were poor soldiers, often unwilling or reluctant to leave their families for battle. So along comes Valentine, a bishop who encouraged young lovers to secretly come to him so that he may join them in matrimony. Claudius heard of this, and was impressed by Valentine's "ballsy" defiance, and tried unsuccessfully to convert Valentine to their pagan religion. Valentine was soon clubbed, stoned, and beheaded. (Doesn't that give you a warm, fuzzy feeling?)
Anyway, I hate Valentine's day... always have, always will. I hated Valentine's Day when I was a pudgy little first grader sitting alone in the corner consoling myself with a chocolate bunny (that my mommy gave me) crying because none of my classmates gave me a Valentine's card. I hated Valentine's Day when I was in my early 20s, when the guy I had been dating called me up (a couple hours before he was supposed to be taking me out to dinner) to tell me that his ex-girlfriend called and that they were getting back together. "Isn't that great?" Uh...yeah...sure... I even hate Valentine's Day NOW, because my well intentioned husband bought me a huge box of chocolates, while I'm in the midst of my mega-diet. (sigh...)
So, in honor of this crappy holiday, I've compiled a "Late-Show" style top ten list for your amusement.
Top 10 Things You NEVER Want to Hear on Valentine's Day:
10.) "It's not you... it's me."
9.) "I'm gonna be a little late picking you up tonight... I'm over at the free clinic getting that rash looked at."
8.) "I'm really touched that you got my name tatooed on your tush, but, my real name is Jake. I just told you it was Ross, because I'm like, a really big fan of "Friends", and I thought it was a really cool name... sorry."
7.) "You really need to get some new panties... those thongs tend to pull at my butt hair."
6.) "Those chocolates are guaranteed to get your digestive system running more smoothly in about... [looks at watch] ... ten minutes." Crap-tiv-ia!
5.) "I'm pregnant... with your mother's baby."
4.) "I'd love to buy you that engagement ring... but, I'm afraid I'm already married!"
3.) "I'm gay... but, even if I wasn't, I wouldn't be caught dead with you! You needs ta do somethin' with that nappy hair, girl-frin!" [snap, snap, snap]
2.) "But, I thought you said you were into trying new things?!" [moo, cluck, baaaaa!]
1.) "Get out of my house before I call the police! I'm just playing with you, baby...get over here and gimme some lovin'. Touch me, and DIE! I want you, sweetie. I want you to DIE, you crazy freak! Oh...did I mention that I'm bipolar?"
Well, I hope you enjoyed the list. I gotta go. I've got a huge box of chocolates to eat before the kids get home. [drool] Crappy Valentine's Day! (nope...not a typo...)
The Roman emperor Claudius II had forbidden marriage, because he felt that married men were poor soldiers, often unwilling or reluctant to leave their families for battle. So along comes Valentine, a bishop who encouraged young lovers to secretly come to him so that he may join them in matrimony. Claudius heard of this, and was impressed by Valentine's "ballsy" defiance, and tried unsuccessfully to convert Valentine to their pagan religion. Valentine was soon clubbed, stoned, and beheaded. (Doesn't that give you a warm, fuzzy feeling?)
Anyway, I hate Valentine's day... always have, always will. I hated Valentine's Day when I was a pudgy little first grader sitting alone in the corner consoling myself with a chocolate bunny (that my mommy gave me) crying because none of my classmates gave me a Valentine's card. I hated Valentine's Day when I was in my early 20s, when the guy I had been dating called me up (a couple hours before he was supposed to be taking me out to dinner) to tell me that his ex-girlfriend called and that they were getting back together. "Isn't that great?" Uh...yeah...sure... I even hate Valentine's Day NOW, because my well intentioned husband bought me a huge box of chocolates, while I'm in the midst of my mega-diet. (sigh...)
So, in honor of this crappy holiday, I've compiled a "Late-Show" style top ten list for your amusement.
Top 10 Things You NEVER Want to Hear on Valentine's Day:
10.) "It's not you... it's me."
9.) "I'm gonna be a little late picking you up tonight... I'm over at the free clinic getting that rash looked at."
8.) "I'm really touched that you got my name tatooed on your tush, but, my real name is Jake. I just told you it was Ross, because I'm like, a really big fan of "Friends", and I thought it was a really cool name... sorry."
7.) "You really need to get some new panties... those thongs tend to pull at my butt hair."
6.) "Those chocolates are guaranteed to get your digestive system running more smoothly in about... [looks at watch] ... ten minutes." Crap-tiv-ia!
5.) "I'm pregnant... with your mother's baby."
4.) "I'd love to buy you that engagement ring... but, I'm afraid I'm already married!"
3.) "I'm gay... but, even if I wasn't, I wouldn't be caught dead with you! You needs ta do somethin' with that nappy hair, girl-frin!" [snap, snap, snap]
2.) "But, I thought you said you were into trying new things?!" [moo, cluck, baaaaa!]
1.) "Get out of my house before I call the police! I'm just playing with you, baby...get over here and gimme some lovin'. Touch me, and DIE! I want you, sweetie. I want you to DIE, you crazy freak! Oh...did I mention that I'm bipolar?"
Well, I hope you enjoyed the list. I gotta go. I've got a huge box of chocolates to eat before the kids get home. [drool] Crappy Valentine's Day! (nope...not a typo...)
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Pareidolia... Really?
The term pareidolia "describes a psychological phenomenon involving a vague and random stimulus (often an image or sound) being perceived as significant. Common examples include images of animals or faces in clouds, the man in the moon, and hidden messages on records played in reverse." (source: Pareidolia. (2008, January 29). In Wikipedia, The free encyclopedia. Retrieved February 7, 2008, from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pareidolia)
I'm sure you've all heard of this phenomenon. There was the tortilla that supposedly bore the image of Christ...there was the toasted cheese sandwich that resembled the Virgin Mary. But, be it a Nasa photograph containing what appears to be a man-like creature, the spirit of the late Pope waving at us from a bonfire, or a potato chip that resembles Jay Leno...it all can be classified as pareidolia.
I've always thought of myself as a fairly logical person. My point of view is that most of these bizarre sightings can be scientifically explained away. Many, I'm sure could be attributed to a neuro-chemical imbalance, an overactive imagination, or hallucinogenic drug use. I must say, and I mean no disrespect, I've always thought that the people who brought forth these interesting observations, could probably stand to have a little psychiatric observation of their own. I mean, seriously...this stuff is just too out there to be entirely legitimate. Maybe a good conversational topic among close friends and family...but not necessarily something you would want to point out to society as a whole. (Unless you enjoy the soothing comfort of a padded room and a wardrobe consisting entirely of summer-white garments that fasten in the back.)
That's not to say that I have never enjoyed lying in the grass and looking for shapes in the clouds. My daughters and I have frequently done so. We'd find boats and dragons... houses and butterflies. But, I never felt that there was any "divine significance" attributed to our discoveries. Occasionally, I might make a pancake that vaguely resembles Scooby-Doo. I may have once spilled bleach on a load of darks and noticed the blotchy profile of John Lennon on my Levi's. (shrug) Purely coincidence, I say. Or...IS IT?!
Yesterday, I was picking up my daughters from school. I pulled up in line waiting for the little darlings to be dismissed. Then, in my rearview mirror I swear I saw it!! There, reflected in my mirror, I could see the windshield of the car behind me...and in the center of that windshield, was the frosty image of Peter Criss (the legendary former drummer for KISS) in full cat makeup!!! I got chills...really!! Especially since... at the exact moment I saw the image... the song Beth was being played on the radio!! (well, actually, I'm lying about that part... I was actually listening to my Peter Frampton cd... but, anyway...)
I couldn't help but continue to look back at the "face" on the windshield. It was almost like it was calling to me! As my rear defroster started kicking into action, and the remnants of frost started melting away from my rear window, it was almost as if the "face" was moving... like it was trying to talk to me (or sing for me).
I continued to watch...absolutely mesmirized.
Eventually my windows cleared completely...and much to my dismay, I saw that the image I had been staring at with such intensity...was actually a handicap "hang tag" on the visor of the car behind me... accentuated by the frost that I was too lazy to scrape before I left the house! (sigh!) (It really is quite amazing how a frosty handicap symbol can "magically transform" into a 70's rock icon under the right conditions.)
I really need to switch to decaf.
Well, folks, I really should be going. I'm sure if I go take a peek in one of those horrid food storage containers in my refrigerator... I might just be able to find a map of Atlantis in my moldy three-bean casserole. Could sell on ebay... you never know! (wink)
I'm sure you've all heard of this phenomenon. There was the tortilla that supposedly bore the image of Christ...there was the toasted cheese sandwich that resembled the Virgin Mary. But, be it a Nasa photograph containing what appears to be a man-like creature, the spirit of the late Pope waving at us from a bonfire, or a potato chip that resembles Jay Leno...it all can be classified as pareidolia.
I've always thought of myself as a fairly logical person. My point of view is that most of these bizarre sightings can be scientifically explained away. Many, I'm sure could be attributed to a neuro-chemical imbalance, an overactive imagination, or hallucinogenic drug use. I must say, and I mean no disrespect, I've always thought that the people who brought forth these interesting observations, could probably stand to have a little psychiatric observation of their own. I mean, seriously...this stuff is just too out there to be entirely legitimate. Maybe a good conversational topic among close friends and family...but not necessarily something you would want to point out to society as a whole. (Unless you enjoy the soothing comfort of a padded room and a wardrobe consisting entirely of summer-white garments that fasten in the back.)
That's not to say that I have never enjoyed lying in the grass and looking for shapes in the clouds. My daughters and I have frequently done so. We'd find boats and dragons... houses and butterflies. But, I never felt that there was any "divine significance" attributed to our discoveries. Occasionally, I might make a pancake that vaguely resembles Scooby-Doo. I may have once spilled bleach on a load of darks and noticed the blotchy profile of John Lennon on my Levi's. (shrug) Purely coincidence, I say. Or...IS IT?!
Yesterday, I was picking up my daughters from school. I pulled up in line waiting for the little darlings to be dismissed. Then, in my rearview mirror I swear I saw it!! There, reflected in my mirror, I could see the windshield of the car behind me...and in the center of that windshield, was the frosty image of Peter Criss (the legendary former drummer for KISS) in full cat makeup!!! I got chills...really!! Especially since... at the exact moment I saw the image... the song Beth was being played on the radio!! (well, actually, I'm lying about that part... I was actually listening to my Peter Frampton cd... but, anyway...)
I couldn't help but continue to look back at the "face" on the windshield. It was almost like it was calling to me! As my rear defroster started kicking into action, and the remnants of frost started melting away from my rear window, it was almost as if the "face" was moving... like it was trying to talk to me (or sing for me).
I continued to watch...absolutely mesmirized.
Eventually my windows cleared completely...and much to my dismay, I saw that the image I had been staring at with such intensity...was actually a handicap "hang tag" on the visor of the car behind me... accentuated by the frost that I was too lazy to scrape before I left the house! (sigh!) (It really is quite amazing how a frosty handicap symbol can "magically transform" into a 70's rock icon under the right conditions.)
I really need to switch to decaf.
Well, folks, I really should be going. I'm sure if I go take a peek in one of those horrid food storage containers in my refrigerator... I might just be able to find a map of Atlantis in my moldy three-bean casserole. Could sell on ebay... you never know! (wink)
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