FUCK YOU. That is all.
PS - Maryland, fuck you too :)
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
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."
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."
Monday, July 09, 2007
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
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
Monday, June 25, 2007
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.
Keep her in your thoughts, guys. She's so little and sad.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
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 :)
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 :)
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Friday, May 04, 2007
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 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"
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
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. |
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Thursday, April 05, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
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)
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)
Thursday, March 15, 2007
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.
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.
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