Stop ruining the holidays, you neo-yuppie scumbags!

Candy is Dandy, but Liquor is Quicker

With the holidays fast approaching, things are in full swing here at the Casa de Costa. Usually by this time, I'm elbow deep in flour, sugar and butter, as I make cookies to send to the neighbors, and family and friends.

This year, however. I've decided that cookies are like, SO 2006. This year is the year of candy, kids. The menu goes as follows:

Chocolate covered pretzels
Chocolate dipped oreos
Kahlua truffles
Pecan Caramel turtles
Coconut haystacks
Fudge
Chocolate covered coconut (think almond joys)
Peanut butter balls.


And thus concludes the insanity. I'll update if this half baked plan actually takes place :)

Zen

INNER PEACE Calmness in Our Lives.

I am passing this on to you because it definitely works, and we could all use a little more calmness in our lives. By following simple advice heard on the Dr. Phil show (no, seriously), you too can find inner peace.

Dr. Phil proclaimed, the way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started and have never finished."

So, I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished, and before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of Zinfandel, a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream, a bottle of Vodka, a package of Oreos, the remainder of my old Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some Doritos and a box of chocolates.

You have no idea how freaking good I feel.

Paging Ms. Sasaki!

M, email me :) I know you read this. Do iiiiiiiit.

lilmissimpatient@comcast.net

In My Daughters Eyes

My kid loves to read. I mean LOVES to read. Homegirl will sit still all day if there is a welcoming lap and books to be read. Sometimes, if there's no one around to read to her, she busts out one of her books and reads to her doll, pointing out the important characters, like we do when we read to her. Eavesdropping outside her door, you can hear her telling her doll "Duck. See? Duuuuuck."

She has no shortage of books of her own. Though, I must admit...I've hidden a few of her books from time to time. One can only read "My Food: Guess what I like to eat" or "8 Silly Monkeys" so many times before one begins to grey prematurely. Despite the impressive library of cardboard books, she still finds interest in the three bookshelves that I have filled with books from college, newer books, well read books, and books on my "if I ever have an hour to myself ever again, I'd like to start to read this book" books. It's pretty comical to see her sitting with her doll, reading Dostoevsky or Alice Walker. Prime toddler reading material.

Anyway, last week, she came running up to me, holding a book, proudly announcing "DADDY!!" as she pointed to the cover of the book. I roared with laughter, because the cover of the book depicted a woman with long flowing dark hair. "Daddy!" she insisted, handing me the book. I don't even know where the book came from. I think maybe freecycle in a grab bag of books? Who knows.

Anyway, Evan was pretty peeved when I giggled the story to him. He sat down with Cecilia and the book at the table and he pointed to the woman on the cover. "Is that Daddy?" he asked her. "No. Mama." she answered. Evan smirked. Cecilia didn't think he was a woman afterall. Then, she pointed to a picture in the background that I failed to notice. "Daddy." she said, pointing to a sketchy dark haired man in the background. "Mama, Daddy" she said pointing to the two pictures.

And so, in my daughters eyes, I am...Native American? Greek? Whatever it is, I'm pretty poorly dressed.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Christmas time!!!! And with only 28 shopping days until Christmas, and black Friday behind us, you guys had better get a move on.

I dragged my sorry self (and my husbands even sorrier self...and my 18 month old) out of bed at 4:15 on Friday morning to go stand in line like an asshole at Circuit City, in hopes of electronics on sale. Not only was it 40 below, but the group of seven men in their mid twenties behind us were so drunk they could barely stand. One wore a beer cooler on his back, like a backpack, and they joined together in songs about standing in line, and mocking other people waiting in line with them. I kept hoping that at any second they would just fall over and pass out on the concrete, but no such luck.

From there it was Target, Sams, EB Games, Walmart, Pier 1, and two malls. WTF was I thinking?

Since today is Cyber Monday may I suggest that you wrap up some holiday shopping (or start holiday shopping, as the case may be) at Art From the Ashes**. You won't be disappointed.



**Yes, I am shameless :)

Damn you, spellcheck!!!

Holy crap, this website is funny :)

http://newstereotypes.blogspot.com/

Vote early, Vote often, Vote Democrat

It's election day! I know you all are busy doing the happy dance that the pre-recorded-trash-talking-phone-calls will stop, and the obnoxiously large, highly glossy, libel filled fliers will stop pouring our of your mailbox, but don't forget to take a minute to GO VOTE!

If you don't vote, you lose your right to complain about:
Taxes
Schools
Roads
Public Services
The Police Department
The President (and all of his henchmen)
The weather
The middle east
The war
Car insurance
Health insurance
..and pretty much everything else that you guys like to complain about. Voting is easy, it's fast, and it's kinda fun. GO DO IT.


Are you still sitting there reading? WTF? GO VOTE!!!

A belated Happy Halloween!!!!

Getting psyched up for the big Trick-or-Treat


"Mom, this hat is ridiculously large, and everyone will laugh at me."


"GIVE ME CANDY! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOW"


"Daddy gave me candy. HE loves me."


"Soooooo tiiiiiiired..must...fill....bucket..with....candy.."

NaNo!

November is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, as it is (semi) affetionately called. Its a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.

Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.

Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.

So, wait, the what now? To recap:

What: Writing one 50,000-word novel from scratch in a month's time.

Who: You! We can't do this unless we have some other people trying it as well. Let's write laughably awful yet lengthy prose together.

Why: The reasons are endless! To actively participate in one of our era's most enchanting art forms! To write without having to obsess over quality. To be able to make obscure references to passages from our novels at parties. To be able to mock real novelists who dawdle on and on, taking far longer than 30 days to produce their work.

When: Sign-ups begin October 1, 2007. Writing begins November 1. To be added to the official list of winners, you must reach the 50,000-word mark by November 30 at midnight. Once your novel has been verified by our web-based team of robotic word counters, the partying begins.

Are you up for the challenge? For the record, at 1:23 on the second day, my word count is zero. but fear not, dearest blog readers, there will be output. Oh yes. There will be output.

And for those who are slightly more faint of heart, there is also NaBloPoMo National Blog Posting Month. Not quite as drastic, but we can't ALL live on the edge, now can we? The challenge of NaBloPoMo is to make a blog post every singe day in the month of November. And so, Mike, Lauren, Lindsay, Elisabeth, Oooooohhh that's right, I'm calling out names. Sign up, and blog. Write!

Watch out, kids, creative juices will be flowing EVERYWHERE!

'Tis the season

Of scumbag politicians and all that nonsense. So, in the spirit of the season, a thought -

The next time you hear a politician use the word "billion," casually,
think about whether or not you want the politician spending your tax
money.

A billion is a difficult number to comprehend, but one advertising
agency did a good job of putting that figure into perspective in one
of its releases.

a. A billion seconds ago it was 1959.
b. A billion minutes ago Jesus was alive.
c. A billion hours ago our ancestors were living in the Stone Age.
d. A billion days ago no-one walked on two feet on earth.
e. A billion dollars ago was only 8 hours and 20 minutes, at the rate
our government spends it.

Daaaaaaaddy....

I want a pony noooooooooooooooow

Betchya didn't know...

Two names you go by:
1. Saki
2. Babe

Two things you are wearing right now:
1. Black tanktop
2. Pink yoga pants

Two of your favorite things to do:
1. spend time with family & friends
2. garden

Two things you want very badly at the moment:
1. a nap
2. To win the lotto, pay off the house, cars, etc

Two favorite pets you have had/have
1. Guido
2. Rizzo

Two people who will fill this out
1. Lauren
2. Ambah

Things you ate today:
1. Rye toast
2. 3 pieces of gum

Two people you last talked to:
1. My mom :)
2. Evan

Two things you're doing tomorrow:
1. Getting a costume for my Happy Halloweeny girl :)
2. Playing with chalk outside

Two longest car rides:
1. Mobile, AL to Cliffside, NJ
2. Northfield, NJ to Boston, MA. It wasn't THAT long, but god it felt like it

Two favorite holidays:
1. Christmas Eve
2. My BIRTHDAY :)

Two favorite beverages:
1. Green tea
2. Hot chocolate

Now, here's what you're supposed to do ... and please do not spoil the fun. Copy this, delete my answers and type in your answers. Leave the whole thing in my comments so I feel loved and adored. Because I am loved and adored....right?

This guy is my new hero

The Mima

Jemma: I think God's trying to tell me something.

Saki: ?

Jemma: this morning walking outta 7-11 i almost get backed into by a Herr's potato chip truck. so close. In gym, i was bent down, and when i stood up, i got hit in the head with a football. THEN they're doing work on franklin so my bus driver dropped me off on davis and second...which really had nothing to do with my god tryna tell me something, it was just a major inconvenience.

Saki: God's tryin' to tell you to shop at WaWa.

Jemma: Do you know how packed it is in there?

Saki: Dude, don't mess with the word of God.

Tales from the MSNBCasey Vault

Once upon a time......

In a not so distant past, Luker bought a motorcycle.


He brought the motorcycle over, in hopes that he and The Hubbin' could hoist it up onto the back of his truck, as Luker is only one man, and can not drive both a motorcycle and truck simultaneously. The back of the truck was emptied, in preparation for the bike.


Not wanting to be hasty, Luker and the Hubbin' surveyed the situation, deciding upon the best way to lift it.


"How much does that weigh?" I asked Luker. "Eh. About 400lbs or so," he answered, pulling on his gloves. But it has a full tank of gas. So maybe a little more." I just nodded, watching the menfolk. Lauren and I stood beside each other, snickering here and there as the Great Motorcycle Hoist of 2006 attracted the neighbors, but was failing to get off the ground. Lauren, not being one to stand idle, finally came forward, and showed the boys how it was done.


Victory, AT LAST!

And what would Tuesday be without a good Dubya joke?

The US Postal Service has issued a recall of a stamp they created with a
picture of President George W. Bush to honor his achievements while serving
as the president of our nation. The problem was discovered when claims had
been made that the stamp was not sticking to envelopes, and that mail which
had been sent using the "Bush" postage was not being delivered. President
Bush demanded a full investigation into the allegations. A special Postal
Service Investigation team was formed and after several months and many
dollars spent, made the following findings:

*The stamp was manufactured properly.
*There was nothing wrong with the adhesive.
*People were just spitting on the wrong side

Catch O' The Day

Last night we were largely unsuccessful at crabbing, with our wholloping five crabs. Three of crabs were almost keepers. Almost.

Maybe we should call it catfishing? :)

For Serious.

A girl from New Jersey and a girl from the west coast were seated side by side on an airplane.

The girl from New Jersey , being friendly and all said, "So, where ya from?"

The west coast girl said, "From a place where they know better than to use a preposition at the end of a sentence."

The girl from New Jersey , sat quietly for a few moments and then replied: "So, where ya from.... bitch?"

Start a revolution

The lovely Lauren the Great has called my attention to this atrocity. The "Second Look Project" is a prolife organization, calling for people to "take a second look at the Roe v. Wade decision that legalized abortion. They feel the need to flaunt their skewed views and half truths on the DC Metro with larger than life sized posters, placed in the front of the metrobus, for everyone who gets on and off to see.

Since the DC Metro is not self sufficient, meaning, the fares collected do not sufficiently cover operating expenses, the shortfall is collected from Maryland, Virginia, and the District of Columbia. A portion of our taxes go to the metro to help cover operation. I endorse mass transit. Honestly, I do. Better for the environment, keeps traffic under control, you can drink yourself into a stupor and take the bus to within a few blocks of your front door. Rah, Metro.

However, I can no longer support this public service that blatantly speaks out against the rights of women. Fact is, by age 45, 1 out of every 2.5 women in the United States has had at least one abortion.

Who are these women? They are single women, married women and divorced women. They are your sisters, your cousins, your aunts, your mothers, your neighbors, your co-workers, your schoolmates, they are women you see every day when you go out into the world. These women come from all different age groups, races, socio-economic levels and religions. They are the women sitting beside you on the metro bus.

How dare a publicly funded service speak for me, by advertising this crap. If you're as outraged as I am, speak up!

You can contact the Second Look Project directly:

Secretariat for Pro-Life Activities
U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops
Contact: Deirdre McQuade
202-541-3070

And you can also contact the DC Metro, and tell them that you refuse to use their services, until they take an unbiased stance on this issue:

Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority*
600 Fifth Street, NW
Washington, DC 20001
202-962-1234
csvc@wmata.com

Dear Capital Beltway

FUCK YOU. That is all.



PS - Maryland, fuck you too :)

A little Shel Silverstein love

There once was a boy named Gimme-Some-Roy...
He was nothin' like me or you,
'cause laying back and getting high
was all he cared to do.
As a kid, he sat in the cellar...sniffing airplane glue.
And then he smoked banana peels, when that was the thing to do.
He tried aspirin in Coca-Cola, he breathed helium on the sly,
and his life became an endless search to find the perfect high.

But grass just made him wanna lay back and eat chocolate-chip pizza all night,
and the great things he wrote when he was stoned looked like shit in the morning light.
Speed made him wanna rap all day, reds laid him too far back,
Cocaine-Rose was sweet to his nose, but the price nearly broke his back.

He tried PCP, he tried THC, but they never quite did the trick.
Poppers nearly blew his heart, mushrooms made him sick.
Acid made him see the light, but he couldn't remember it long.
Hash was a little too weak, and smack was a lot too strong.
Quaaludes made him stumble, booze just made him cry,
Then he heard of a cat named Baba Fats who knew of the perfect high.

Now, Baba Fats was a hermit cat...lived high up in Nepal,
High on a craggy mountain top, up a sheer and icy wall.
"Well, hell!" says Roy, "I'm a healthy boy, and I'll crawl or climb or fly,
Till I find that guru who'll give me the clue as to what's the perfect high."

So out and off goes Gimme-Some-Roy, to the land that knows no time,
Up a trail no man could conquer, to a cliff no man could climb.
For fourteen years he climbed that cliff...back down again he'd slide
He'd sit and cry, then climb some more, pursuing the perfect high.

Grinding his teeth, coughing blood, aching and shaking and weak,
Starving and sore, bleeding and tore, he reaches the mountain peak.
And his eyes blink red like a snow-blind wolf, and he snarls the snarl of a rat,
As there in repose, and wearing no clothes, sits the god-like Baba Fats.

"What's happenin', Fats?" says Roy with joy, "I've come to state my biz
I hear you're hip to the perfect trip... Please tell me what it is.
"For you can see," says Roy to he, "I'm about to die,
So for my last ride, tell me, how can I achieve the perfect high?"

"Well, dog my cats!" says Baba Fats. "Another burned out soul,
Who's lookin' for an alchemist to turn his trip to gold.
It isn't in a dealer's stash, or on a druggist's shelf
Son, if you would find the perfect high, find it in yourself."

"Why, you jive motherfucker!" says Roy, "I climbed through rain and sleet,
I froze three fingers off my hands, and four toes off my feet!
I braved the lair of the polar bear, I've tasted the maggot's kiss.
Now, you tell me the high is in myself? What kinda shit is this?

My ears, before they froze off," says Roy, "had heard all kindsa crap;
But I didn't climb for fourteen years to hear your sophomore rap.
And I didn't climb up here to hear that the high is on the natch,
So you tell me where the real stuff is, or I'll kill your guru ass!"

"Okay...okay," says Baba Fats, "You're forcin' it outta me...
There is a land beyond the sun that's known as Zabolee.
A wretched land of stone and sand, where snakes and buzzards scream,
And in this devil's garden blooms the mystic Tzutzu tree.

Now, once every ten years it blooms one flower, as white as the Key West sky,
And he who eats of the Tzutzu flower shall know the perfect high.
For the rush comes on like a tidal wave...hits like the blazin' sun.
And the high? It lasts forever, and the down don't never come.

But, Zabolee Land is ruled by a giant, who stands twelve cubits high,
And with eyes of red in his hundred heads, he awaits the passer-by.
And you must slay the red-eyed giant, and swim the river of slime,
Where the mucous beasts await to feast on those who journey by.
And if you slay the giant and beasts, and swim the slimy sea,
There's a blood-drinking witch who sharpens her teeth as she guards the Tzutzu tree."

"Well, to hell with your witches and giants," says Roy, "To hell with the beasts of the sea
Why, as long as the Tzutzu flower still blooms, hope still blooms for me."
And with tears of joy in his sun-blind eyes, he slips the guru a five,
And crawls back down the mountainside, pursuing the perfect high.

"Well, that is that," says Baba Fats, sitting back down on his stone,
Facing another thousand years of talking to God, alone.
"Yes, Lord, it's always the same...old men or bright-eyed youth...
It's always easier to sell 'em some shit than it is to tell them the truth."

What's my age again?

Since it's officially hot as balls here our morning routine of playing outside has been cancelled in lieu of sitting in the air conditioning and watching Sesame Street.

Have I ever told you how much I adore this show?? This morning I was particularly amused to find "Law & Order: Special Letters Unit" and any self respecting Law & Order fan will appreciate this:








Muahahahaha

The face of sick

Cecilia had been feeling like crap the past few days, when her fever spiked to 105, we brought her to the ER. They ran a bunch of tests, and admitted her last night. Her white cell count is really high, and her fever is fluctuating. They have her on a broad antibiotic, and a bag of fluids. No one seems to know what's wrong with her, they think it's a bacterial infection of some sort.

Keep her in your thoughts, guys. She's so little and sad.

Thou Shalt Not Flip the Bird

Vatican issues 10 Commandments for drivers


VATICAN CITY (AP) -- Got road rage? The Vatican on Tuesday issued a set of "Ten Commandments" for drivers, telling motorists to be charitable to others on the highways, to refrain from drinking and driving, and to pray you make it before you even buckle up.

An unusual document from the Vatican's office for migrants and itinerant people also warned that automobiles can be "an occasion of sin" -- particularly when they are used for dangerous passing or for prostitution.

It warned about the effects of road rage, saying driving can bring out "primitive" behavior in motorists, including "impoliteness, rude gestures, cursing, blasphemy, loss of sense of responsibility or deliberate infringement of the highway code."

It urged motorists to obey traffic regulations, drive with a moral sense, and to pray when behind the wheel.

Cardinal Renato Martino, who heads the office, told a news conference that the Vatican felt it necessary to address the pastoral needs of motorists because driving had become such a big part of contemporary life.

He noted that the Bible was full of people on the move, including Mary and Joseph, the parents of Jesus -- and that his office is tasked with dealing with all "itinerant" people -- from refugees to prostitutes, truck drivers to the homeless.

"We know that as a consequence of transgressions and negligence, 1.2 million people die each year on the roads," Martino said. "That's a sad reality, and at the same time, a great challenge for society and the church."

The document, "Guidelines for the Pastoral Care of the Road," extols the benefits of driving -- family outings, getting the sick to the hospital, allowing people to see other cultures.

But it laments a host of ills associated with automobiles: Drivers use their cars to show off; driving "provides an easy opportunity to dominate others" by speeding; drivers can kill themselves and others if they don't get their cars regular tuneups, if they drink, use drugs or fall asleep at the wheel.

It also pointed the finger at traffic problems particular to Rome, including "minicars" that teens can drive without full driving licenses, and "the reckless use of motorbikes and motorcycles."

It called for drivers to obey speed limits and to exercise a host of Christian virtues: charity to fellow drivers, prudence on the roads, hope of arriving safely and justice in the event of crashes.

And it suggested prayer might come in handy -- performing the sign of the cross before starting off and saying the Rosary along the way. The Rosary was particularly well suited to recitation by all in the car since its "rhythm and gentle repetition does not distract the driver's attention."

The document is intended for bishops conferences around the world, and as such offered recommendations for their pastoral workers, including setting up chapels along motorways and having "periodic celebration of liturgies at major road hubs, motorway restaurants and lorry parks."

'Drivers' Ten Commandments'

The "Drivers' Ten Commandments," as listed by the document, are:

1. You shall not kill.

2. The road shall be for you a means of communion between people and not of mortal harm.

3. Courtesy, uprightness and prudence will help you deal with unforeseen events.

4. Be charitable and help your neighbor in need, especially victims of accidents.

5. Cars shall not be for you an expression of power and domination, and an occasion of sin.

6. Charitably convince the young and not so young not to drive when they are not in a fitting condition to do so.

7. Support the families of accident victims.

8. Bring guilty motorists and their victims together, at the appropriate time, so that they can undergo the liberating experience of forgiveness.

9. On the road, protect the more vulnerable party.

10. Feel responsible toward others.


************************************

Does the catholic church have nothing better to do with their time than sit around and brainstorm ANOTHER set of commandments? And seriously, isn't that kind of like blasphemy? I bet god is pissed like whoa.

Protect and Cherish; Give Wings to Fly

Welcome to The Family, Gianna.

Be A Superhero!!!***

***Some restrictions apply

Drug Agency Reaffirms Ban on Gay Men Giving Blood

WASHINGTON, May 23 (AP) — Gay men remain barred from donating blood, the government said Wednesday, leaving in place a 1983 prohibition meant to prevent the spread of H.I.V. through transfusions.

The Food and Drug Administration reaffirmed the policy on its Web site on Wednesday, more than a year after the Red Cross and two other blood groups criticized the ban as “medically and scientifically unwarranted.”

“I am disappointed, I must confess,” said Dr. Celso Bianco, executive vice president of America’s Blood Centers, whose members provide nearly half the nation’s blood supply.

Before giving blood, all men are asked if they have had sex, even once, with another man since 1977, when the AIDS epidemic began in the United States, according to the drug agency. Those who say they have are barred from donating. The drug agency says those men are at increased risk of infection by H.I.V., which can be transmitted by blood transfusion. Anyone who has used intravenous drugs or been paid for sex is also permanently barred from donating blood.

In March 2006, the Red Cross, the international blood association AABB and America’s Blood Centers proposed replacing the lifetime ban with a one-year deferral after male-to-male sexual contact. New and improved tests, which can detect H.I.V.-positive donors within 10 to 21 days of infection, make the lifetime ban unnecessary, the blood groups told the F.D.A.

In a document posted Wednesday, the drug agency said it would change its policy if it received data proving that doing so would not pose a “significant and preventable” risk to blood recipients.

The agency said the H.I.V. tests now in use were highly accurate, but still could not detect the virus 100 percent of the time. The estimated H.I.V. risk from a unit of blood is about one per two million in the United States, according to the agency.

Critics of the exclusionary policy say it bars potential healthy donors, despite the increasing need for donated blood, and discriminates against gay men. The F.D.A. acknowledges that the restriction means many healthy donors cannot give blood, but rejected the suggestion that the policy was discriminatory.

_______________________________________________

What a crock of shit this is. Send the FDA a strongly worded email telling them what bigoted assholes they are. I did :)

The newest member of the Costa Crew

RIZZO!

Summertime, and the livin's easy

How much did you pay for your rock-n-roll tee shirt that proves you were there; that you heard of them first

Paul got me hooked on this comic. I've been reading it for two days straight.

She had two hairs upon her head, one was black and the other was red

My daughter was born with a massive amount of silky hair. I imagined all the bows, ribbons, barrettes and decorations I could bestowe upon her tresses. Ahhh, I love having a girl.

But then all her hair fell out before she was a month old. I never got the chance to use so much as a headband.

Until today!



"Um, mom. For real. This palmtree-looking-thing on my head has GOT to go. It's like, so 1987"

But what is the other 12%

You Are 88% Democrat

You are a card carrying Democrat, and a pretty far left one at that! There's no chance anyone would ever mistake you for a Republican.

How Democrat Are You?

But Wesley, what about the ROUS's?

Our backyard cascades into what we (semi)lovingly refer to as "the fire swamp." If you've ever been to my house, you'll know what I'm talking about. Large, knotted trees, intertwined with vines several inches thick. Dense, green, damp underbrush crowds every square inch of useable space. I have ventured through the entire area, but I'm pretty sure there's lightening sand somewhere over by the Pitts' house, all of this glory is cut in the middle by a stream. Placid.

There is also no shortage of wildlife in the fireswamp. Poisonous snakes, bats, more bats, toads, more toads, and a family of foxes (foxes? Fox? foxen? Foxii?) who have escape my paparazzi abilities.

Sounds pleasant, right? Nice quiet street, nice quiet house, nestled in nature, abundant wildlife....

For the love of god, shut the wildlife up.

I'm a mom. I get about 3.67 non-consecutive hours of sleep in any given 24 hour time frame. I treasure those hours. I think about them often, and they motivate me. And so, when I climb into my comfy bed, excited by the cool breeze blowing gently over my face, inhaling the fresh air, it disturbs me greatly when I can't sleep.

And why can't I sleep, you ask?

Lets start with the owls. For the love of christ, the owls. WhooooooooooooOOOOOOO WhooooooooOOOOOOOOO *pause long enough for me to think they've flown away* WhoooooooooOOOOO WhoooooooooOOOOOOOOO

Add in the bullfrogs from the stream. Bullfrog don't ribbit or make a cute noise. Their sound is somthing akin to a frat boy beer belch. BWWAAAAP. BWAAAAAP.

Followed by the foxes (foxen.) The foxes make noises like a cat that's been hit by a car. Breeerrrrraaawwrrrr breeeerrrrraaawwwrrr.

The crickets, who make a somewhat nice noise, but since I am deathly afraid of them, it gives me the heebiejeebies.

My husband chimes in, with a nasally sleeping on his back snorky snore. Snnnoooooorrrrkkkkkk kkkkkk skooorrrrrkkk

Just as I think I'm about to go crazy laying in bed, trying to sleep but unable, my lovely Cecilia chimes in with "mem?" "Mem?" "MEMMY!!!!"



WhooooooooooooOOOOOOOWhooooooooOOOOOOOOOWhoooooooooOOOOOWhoooooooooOOOOOOOOO BWWAAAAP.BWAAAAAP BWWAAAAP.BWAAAAAPBreeerrrrraaawwrrrrbreeeerrrrraaawwwrrr.Breeerrrrraaawwrrrrbreeeerrrrraaawwwrrr. Snnnoooooorrrrkkkkkk kkkkkk skooorrrrrkkkSnnnoooooorrrrkkkkkk kkkkkk skooorrrrrkkkmem?Mem?Memmy?mem?mememememememememem?


So much for sleep.

5 years

When I look back on those times
and those dreams left behind
I'll be glad.
Because I was blessed
to have you in my life.

When I look back on those days
I'll look
and see your face.

In my dreams,
I'll always see you soar
above the sky.

In my heart,
there will always be a place for you
for all my life.

I'll keep a part of you with me
and everywhere I am
there you'll be.

Beware! Bewaaaaaaaarrreeeeeee!

Ch...ch...ch...AH..Ah..ah..





muahahahaha

Happy Easter

From my chick to yours :)

Reason #57392520 why I love my sister

The scene: The Beauty Supply Store; Saki and Wok are perusing the hair products

Wok: This says "For virgin hair"
Saki: Virgin hair?
Wok: I guess they mean hair that you have never used stuff on. Or maybe like dye.
Saki: *snorts and giggles*
Wok: *shoving it back on the shelf* My hair has been like....gangbanged.

Because...

My sister and I are mean to my mom, Easter is hereby cancelled.

Don't tell the Pope.

And on the 8th day, god created frank zappa

Whoever we are
Wherever were from
We shoulda noticed by now
Our behavior is dumb
And if our chances
Expect to improve
Its gonna take a lot more
Than tryin to remove
The other race
Or the other whatever
From the face
Of the planet altogether

They call it the earth
Which is a dumb kinda name
But they named it right
cause we behave the same...
We are dumb all over
Dumb all over,
Yes we are
Dumb all over,
Near n far
Dumb all over,
Black n white
People, we is not wrapped tight

Nurds on the left
Nurds on the right
Religous fanatics
On the air every night
Sayin the bible
Tells the story
Makes the details
Sound real gory
bout what to do
If the geeks over there
Dont believe in the book
We got over here

You cant run a race
Without no feet
n pretty soon
There wont be no street
For dummies to jog on
Or doggies to dog on
Religous fanatics
Can make it be all gone
(I mean it wont blow up
n disappear
Itll just look ugly
For a thousand years...)

You cant run a country
By a book of religion
Not by a heap
Or a lump or a smidgeon
Of foolish rules
Of ancient date
Designed to make
You all feel great
While you fold, spindle
And mutilate
Those unbelievers
From a neighboring state

To arms! to arms!
Hooray! thats great
Two legs aint bad
Unless theres a crate
They ship the parts
To mama in
For souvenirs: two ears (get down!)
Not his, not hers, (but what the hey? )
The good book says:
(it gotta be that way!)
But their book says:
Revenge the crusades...
With whips n chains
n hand grenades...
Two arms? two arms?
Have another and another
Our God says:
There aint no other!
Our God says
Its all okay!
Our God says
This is the way!

It says in the book:
Burn n destroy...
n repent, n redeem
n revenge, n deploy
n rumble thee forth
To the land of the unbelieving scum on the other side
cause they dont go for whats in the book
n that makes em bad
So verily we must choppeth them up
And stompeth them down
Or rent a nice french bomb
To poof them out of existance
While leaving their real estate just where we need it
To use again
For temples in which to praise our god
(cause he can really take care of business!)

And when his humble tv servant
With humble white hair
And humble glasses
And a nice brown suit
And maybe a blond wife who takes phone calls
Tells us our God says
Its okay to do this stuff
Then we gotta do it,
cause if we dont do it,
We aint g'wine up to hebbin!
(depending on which book youre using at the
Time...cant use theirs... it dont work
...its all lies...gotta use mine...)
Aint that right?
Thats what they say
Every night...
Every day...
Hey, we cant really be dumb
If were just following gods orders
Hey, lets get serious...
God knows what hes doin
He wrote this book here
An the book says:
He made us all to be just like him,
So...
If were dumb...
Then God is dumb...
(an maybe even a little ugly on the side)

Shinin' Down Like Water

I was looking through a box of old pictures today. Pictures of my family from the 30's and 40's. My grandparents, young, sweet faced, my grandfather in his Air Force uniform, my grandmother standing proudly holding onto his arm. I touched their faces, traced my fingers over the yellowed newspaper clippings in their scrapbook.

I made a pile of photos. Photos of smiling faces and summer homes that I didn't recognize. "I'll ask Papou," I thought.

My mother came home from work, excited to see I was pouring through the photos. "What are these ones set out for?" she asked as she picked up the stack of unknowns.

"Oh, I was just going to ask..." and then my voice got stuck. Stuck deep down in my chest and I couldn't say it. I had forgotten.

His number is still programmed into my phone, but I know it by heart anyway. I haven't called it in over two years now. Two years. Has it really been that long?

Sometimes it seems so close, I can still smell his cologne, his marlboros, the cold air on his jacket as he came into the house; tall, proud, noble. I can feel the stubble on his face as he bent his 6'7" frame to hug me.

But more than that, I still feel him around me. Thank god for that.

When we two parted

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow -
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes over me -
Why were thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met -
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

The Legend of the Concrete Donkey

Or, "What My Mother Bought Me For Valentines Day"


Once upon a time...

Many years ago, I'm going to guess and say a good 5 years ago, my mother and I were driving home from dropping my sister off at her gymnastics lesson. We passed a house that was clearly packing up to move, and on the curb was a HUGE pile of all sorts of good things that didn't fit into the truck, or didn't coordinate in the new house, or something. Anyway, they were throwing out a lot of good stuff. Namely, a concrete lawn donkey, with little saddlebags for planting flowers in. I squealed in delight and commanded my mother to pull over.

"Why?" she asked. This came as a surprise, because my mother takes a great deal of pleasure in plucking antique knickknacks out of curb piles such as this.

"Because I want that donkey!" I yelled in dispair as we drove farther from the house. "Mom!!! TURN AROUND" and so, she did. I was right. There he was, in all of his concrete glory, Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww. She slowed down in front of the house so I could get a better view. "Okay, now stop!" I said, pulling at the door handle.

But she wouldn't stop! She said I'd have to cross the traffic on Mill Rd. to get the donkey, and we had to go that way on the way back from picking my sister up, and I'd be on the right side of the road to just hop out and grab Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww. I wasn't pleased with the idea, but there wasn't much I could do, being seated in the passengers seat and all.

And so, we spent the hour running errands, then picked up my sister, and headed back up Mill Rd. so that I could claim Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww for my own. My stomach knotted as we got close. The pile of stuff on the curb was significantly smaller. My mom passed the house, but he was gone! My donkey had been STOLEN! I looked around frantically, hoping maybe someone had just moved him, but no. All that was left was a sad patch of bent, pressed down grass where Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww had rested just an hour before.

I stormed back in the car, and declared that someone had stolen the donkey. My mother laughed. She's cruel like that.

"MOM!" I said, growing ever more irritated with her blase attitude about my donkey.

Her cheeks grew red as she ried to hold in her guffaws. "What would you like me to do?" she asked, her voice cracking. I can't be sure, but I'm pretty sure she was being sarcastic.

"I want you to drive around the neighborhood so I can see if someone has MY donkey on THEIR front lawn!! That's what I want you to do!"

She sighed, and we started our adventure, slowly trolling up and down the adjacent neighborhood as I sat, half hanging out the window looking for Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww. "Are you looking on your side?" I asked her. She didn't answer, but I think she was.

"So... What are you going to do if you see it on someone's front lawn? We can't steal it, Casey."

"I'm going to march up, ring the bell, and say "Excuse me, but you have my donkey on your lawn. I'd like him back, please." And then, if they give me a hard time, I'm going to call them TrashPickers and say that it was my house they took it from, and they have STOLEN PROPERTY."

She just shook her head and drove on.

We drove until it was too dark to see. Reluctantly, we went home. But for months and months, I looked out the window or Dominick Ee-Aww Ee-Aww as we were driving in town, but he was not to be found.

I brought the donkey up often to my mother, most recently this past christmas. Every year she demands a Christmas list from everyone. I headlined mine with "Concrete Donkey."

"Why do you want one of those?!" she asked. And so I recapped the tale, because she is infamous for her selective memory. I had to keep speaking louder and louder though, to out voice her laughter. After I finished, she said "I have no idea what your talking about."

Indeed.

Christmas came and went. No donkey. Le sigh.


************************************************************


Last Thursday my whole family rolled into town with Valentines Day presents. My dad came in carrying a giant red bag, and this is what was inside:



Long Live Dominick Ee-Aww Eee-Aww!!!!

If I were an action figure...

When you pulled my string, I would say:

1. You're an ass.
2. Are you cereal?
3. Wtf mate?
4. EVAN!!!
5. Ohjesuschrist.

Courtesy of my sister.

Happy Fucking Valentine's Day

Shake that ass for me

There is a new study just released by the American Psychiatric Association about women and how they feel about their asses. The results are pretty interesting:


1. 5% of women surveyed feel their ass is too big.

2. 10% of women surveyed feel their ass is too small.

3. The remaining 85% say they don't care; they love him; he's a good
man, and they would have married him anyway.

Biker Baby

The attitude* girl, in all her cuteness.





*Yes, that outfit IS from my mother.

Basically, yeah...

The problem with George W. Bush is that he believes the same thing on Wednesday as he did on Monday - Regardless of what happened on Tuesday. -Stephen Colbert

au naturale

"If breastfeeding in public makes people uneasy because the breasts are considered sexual then bottle-feeding must be the equivalent of whipping out a dildo"

Resolutions are like promises and promises never keep

Let's see.

1. To end 2007 looking more like a majestic tree and less like an unkept shrub
2. To keep my house clean. Heh. Well, I guess there's always next year for the ones I've already broken.
3. To be a better mom, wife and person
4. To return phone calls as soon as I can, rather than letting the days slip into weeks

And so, a very happy, healthy 2007 to all of my blog readers. I know I speak for more than just myself when I say: thank god 2006 is over.