I'm Not a Catholic, But I am Playing One Online For a Bit.

Well, alrighty then. This is not a redo of the Fruitcake meme (Look in my sidebar; I happened to win a fruitcake from SuziRiot yesterday!) I am not going to tell you a bunch of lies. In fact, though I have never been a Catholic a day in my life, though I have met a few I really like these days, I do appreciate the catharsis of the well-timed confession. I figure on this here last day of the old year, I could leave behind the sins of 2007, including yesterday's misdeeds when I had unpure thoughts of cheating on the family snake, Zebby....

I have no idea whether Zebby, a California King Snake, is male or female, but we've had him about three years and he's tickling my toes right now. I feel a little guilty for my transgression with Rachel Weisz's snake yesterday and told him I would make it up to him with a confessional blog that might allow me to leave the sins of yesterday and later tonight behind me tomorrow, as I step into the new year.

I do have a few more guilt-laden ideas I carry around than that, but just a few. Ok, I know it is not very pc of me, but I am not an aetheist. There, I said it. I find the whole label a bit dogmatic, though understand it works for some as Catholic, Christian or Muslim works for others. I like to think of myself as a Buddhist Humanist for reasons I neither need to justify nor myself understand very clearly, but for the fact that I think that parallel universes are a distinct possibility and (oooh, snake up the pant leg willies, ok) when our feeble human minds glimpse this phenomenon through a little construct, a psychological filter we call time, we see these other existences as reincarnation. These are my little theories, Poe had them about the Big Bang before it was scientifically theorized and I have them now, when others will call me a formerly acid-lovin' loon. Phew, it's good to get that one out there and it makes the next one, the most heinous of all, a bit easier to broach.

I studied astrology for 15+ years. I don't go tauting that around the math department, but figure I would have have been one of those Renaissance math dudes in a former time or alternate current aspect of myself in some weird we-are-one scenario. I used to have dreams that I was attending archaic astrological conventions. I do not like the dogma that astrology can embody, though. I have more of a Robert Hand view on the whole thing. I was raised in a very non-dogmatic Presbyterian environment by an aetheist mother and non-religious father and maybe the predestination thang sunk in somewhere, but maybe this whole deal is done and we're experiencing it through an individual's eyes right now. I do not see how this could possibly mean that I do not think people have freedom to make choices. We very well do/ did. It's just a matter of vantage point at which the whole thing is viewed, and that does not mean I do not see things as changeable. You see it is the little paradoxes that I like to embrace, predestination jiving with the possibility of mass perception of a differing collective history. Shit, no one's gonna like me now. Anyway, all I do with astrology from time to time is notice a coincidence between, say, the fact that my ex-husband's and my Venus's are both at 0 degrees Pisces, the same as the sun position of my first daughter, who in many ways brought us together into this life-long relationship we, sometimes ruefully, share. Doesn't have to mean anything. Just an observation. Or that, I have planets and significant dealimibobs in all of the signs, but Leo, Capricorn and Cancer, the signs of my current husband, my ex-husband and the sign of someone I've been majorly lustin'. Doesn't mean anything. I just notice these things (most likely because I am undiagnosedly OCD) or like the year I lived with two ladies as roommates that unbeknownst to me prior to the arrangement happened to have the exact same birthdays as my two brothers. You know, I could easily not notice these things and I admit things would be no different, but maybe it's like noticing I "jinx, you owe me a coke"d with you and ha ha funny, or noticed deja vu or dreamt of the person I hadn't seen in six months the day I saw him or her (happened several times.) I was born with two teeth by the way and in some cultures, I would have been killed in infancy for such heresy, so I'm glad people have let go of some of their ridiculous beliefs. I'm just sayin'. Though pagan is a bit dogmatic for me too, my moon in Gemini symbolically represents my tendency to be extremely emotionally bored with this whole thing already and my Taurus rising sign helps me seem more credible than I actually am more times than I like to admit, but I feel dirty these days (like now) if I do anything re:astrology more than notice things (which I can hardly help,) even transits and cycles, which were my last vestige in the whole thing. It's kinda like this...

May this year further distance me from my limiting thinking.

I promise a Froodle and goofy poem tomorrow to bring in the new year and that I will cut it out with those blasted promises (unless I don't.)


Seven Deadly Splotchys

Now, I am beginning to feel as though things are getting back to normal around here; Fran tagged me in Splotchy's fruitcake meme I like to call, Seven Deadly Splotchys. Actually, I think she called it Seven Lies for Seven Splotchys. It's seven untrue facts about myself I will tell by filling in a few of the sordid details I left out of my recounting of my recent family vacation:

1. Firstly, I shall simply repeat what I say here all the time, I never lie, so every bit of the following is true.

2. I used the Jesus-lovin' holiday of late as an excuse to go to Arkansas to make a deal with the Devil. I know the song is called The Devil Went Down to Georgia, but he actually winters in Arkansas and I simply could not afford the electric guitar my son so desperately needed, so my family and I traveled there and I went to the Devil's Den and I struck up a few deals with him.

3. The Devil himself actually looks like this...

...so you can see we had a lot of negotiating to do.

4. I assured him that my four children were conceived by immaculate conception, that I am, in fact, a nearly thirty year-old virgin, and not even once have I ever inhaled, or swallowed.

5. After Rachel Weisz (who I may have forgotten to mention came along on our family vacation) and I satisfied his previously insatiable curiosity...

...he gave me the guitar and various assorted chocolates and she and I left together, not stopping anywhere along the 6 mile hike to have hot lesbianic sex involving her pet snake. Did I mention we saw Jesus and Spiderman there and they were cool with the whole thing? It seems they had been making a few deals themselves...

6. My husband was so cool with the whole thing, just appreciative I saved us a few bucks out of our Christmas budget, that he gave me a three hour massage later while my mother watched the kids, after she made a sizeable donation to Dennis Kucinich's presidential campaign.

7. It appears that the Devil is keeping with his end of one of our bargains as I just heard that Cheney and Bush are scheduled to go before the International Criminal Court next week and Nancy Pelosi will be sworn into office while they are being detained at an undisclosed location. Nancy shall be withdrawing troops immediately, upholding her campaign promises, even if to her own surprise, the Devil hath assured.

I shall forgo tags and trust that one of my loyal commenteurs who has not been previously tagged shall carry on the legacy of this fruitcake meme. A fruitcake meme should never die or be eaten. This was part of my end of the bargain. It's the least ya'll can do since I finally got the ball rolling on that whole impeachment deal.

(If no one finds that satisfactory, I'll make another deal and barter memes with someone who has one to pass along if you let me know in my comments here.)


Come, Take a Walk With Me.

I really have missed you guys this past week, even though I was hanging out in this beautiful place. I feel like I stepped out of a la-la land, or, well, Arkansas. If you have ever wondered where the Devil lives, it is purported to be here, Devil's Den which is between Fort Smith and Fayetteville in the southern Ozarks. I must say, the Devil has some mighty nice taste, but, well, I was suspecting that already. We drove the heinous ten-hour drive with a sanity break (overnight on the way up and for dinner on the way back) at my in-laws (I know) who live close to midway between Austin and our destination in northern Arkansas, the majority of the drive being through Oklahoma. Though we have driven through state parks in Oklahoma in the past and seen some breathtaking views, we stuck with Highways 75, 69, and 40 where we like to mock Shoestring, OK (Stringtown,) where we have been pulled over before and there is, without fail, a speed trap. This year, the motorcycle police officer was poking out behind a pile of trash and my husband swears he saw a banana peel on his helmet as a disguise. I failed to photograph the roadside Ten Commandments for your viewing pleasure, only because I forgot the mile marker for the return trip and it was too dark to photograph on our way up there.

We arrived at our cabin Christmas Eve and did the Devil's work of giving our children material goods to celebrate the birthday of the Son of God and Santa's one workday a year, besides those days he sits for photo shoots at the mall. We hoped that giving our son this electric guitar pleased Jesus thoroughly. Last July there was a set of drums given to our youngest, my husband plays bass and I have been told I can tag along on keyboards (though I know they'll ditch me when they get good.) If we could only convince my daughter that her excellent singing is truly excellent, my other daughter could promote us and play the triangle in true Partridge family fashion. Or, this was the plan before it was realized that our future manager is the one who seems to have the guitar genius and is already "Smoke on the Water"ing it in varying octaves after just a couple days.

I withstood the holiday banter with the Republican family quite well, even agreeing with my grandfather that Donald Rumsfeld's leaving was a good thing was all we agreed upon politically. (You take what you can get, 'cause he thinks we have a chance of long term success in Iraq if we stick to it. He was a WWII pilot, mostly a flight instructor in the Navy.) We stuck with other topics more so and my cousin even told me I looked even more left-wing progressive in my new glasses than I already did, which I took as a compliment whether he meant it as one or not. I stuck with holding my new nephew while threatening to abduct him, which his frazzled mom would joke she wished would really happen, and eating homemade fudge, sweet potatoes, corn casserole and rolls.

On Thursday, I was going to help my grandmother with some moving matters, which was a treat since I never get to help her. She told me all the dirt on my mom and my aunts and uncle and gave me a bread machine, a green marble Buddha (doesn't everyone need one of those, particularly one that had been called "bad luck." I believe it might be bad luck for Republican Christians- though my grandmother is the only one of those (Christians) in my family- that I know of) and several crocheting projects that are almost finished, but that she can't because she can't see well enough anymore (though I allowed her to drive me around?) and no one else really crochets in my family, as my great grandmother (who taught me how in Alma, AR) did for years and years. My "Smoke On the Water" daughter and I are the only ones to really carry that on, so I took on the projects. Since I was going to do that, I decided to take my hike of the Devil's Den Trail solo that morning and took many, many gorgeous pictures, bumping nearly all of our Christmas morning pics off my camera phone for space. I was unable to access the internet wirelessly anywhere on my trip and suffered internet withdrawal, but managed to hear the news on my drive into Fayetteville after days in isolation from the real world and a hefty search through many religious stations and heard the ominous news of Benazir Bhutto's death. We returned last night at midnight with a huge, one-day drive glossed over here in the middle and on BBC news this morning I heard of the Pakistani government's alleged cover-up of Bhutto's cause of death. There was an excellent interview with one of her aides who helped her into another car after she was shot and witnessed the events first hand, and was baffled by the government’s attempt to discount the well-documented event. But, most impacting of all, was a very touching interview with her husband, her widower rather, Asif Ali Zardari. He spoke of her will that will be read tomorrow and the utter devastation he was feeling that could not compare to years of jail, his father's and nephew's deaths, his own heart attack, or even being tortured and I cried on my way to work.

It almost makes my getting these hiking shoes, instead of the boots I wanted, insignificant, doesn't it? I am so not into martyrdom, sorry Jesus (I doubt he was either) and know that, though Bhutto herself knew the dangers of her campaigning, I consider hers (and every one in Iraq) a senseless death and can only imagine how her followers, friends and family felt and how this is going to be spun to reflect the need to increase the efforts in the War of Terror. I shall be linking the blog All Things Pakistani over to the right, as today the author, a Boston University professor, had some interesting insight to the challenges Pakistan faces after this, as he calls it, it's "Kennedy assassination moment."

Goodbye Benazir. I knew you had Big Balls and shall rock to that song in your honor ASAP. You'd be surprised how many people actually search for the terms "Big Balls" and find my blog, disappointedly so, I imagine. And I shall confess that I shall be ordering my own iSplotchy $hoodie and that I have enough credit on a gift store to a major department store from some holiday returns to go get myself some Go-Go boots and I'm sure you'll be hanging on the edge of your seats to see them, my Seven Deadly Splotchy Lies meme, a small stack of Froodles and poetry for the New Year. I had a flashlight set waiting here at my work from my boss for my excellent work this past year and figure, since I do most of my blogging here, I'd better keep up the good work.


I Have Been Forced To Froodle By Robot Santa and... Dr. Monkey?

Randal tipped me off to an alleged plot by Robot Santa to kill us all if I did not do a Christmas Froodle. I think Robot Santa may be being mind controled by the infamous Dr. Monkey Von Muckerstein, who has threatened to invade this corner of the blogosphere alleging the possession of weapons of mass distraction and attempts to enrich craniums, in his ongoing War on Christmas. Fortunately, I have diffused the situation with this here Froodle...

And, I have allayed the dear Dr.'s fears by demonstrating that, in fact, no enrichment of craniums had occurred here.

The Dr. was so convinced he even gave me the lovely new Kucinich pic over in my sidebar. His obvious leadership skills do have me yet undecided as to who will get my vote if Special K doesn't cut the mustard in the next presidential election. So, there's actually nothing to see here. Move along and have yourselves a Merry Little Froodle and Bloggermas!

Merry Bloggermas, Pidomon!!!!!

As a fortunate participant of Zaius and Monkerstein's Simian Secret Santa Online Gift Exchange, I had the honor of online shopping for Pidomon!

The spending limit was between $1 and $1 trillion, which, as we know, does not go as far as one might imagine here in the US, so I have chosen very carefully, my new, fine, friend. First off, sit back and relax; as luck and the fates would have it, your secret Santa is a(naturalized) Texan, so she understands your yearnings and has firstly purchased you a first class ticket to Texas! You'll be flying into Dallas Love Field via...

They will serve you all of these you can handle...

Since you will be sloshed by this point, I have arranged for Ilana to be waiting with a car. She will be your driver for your visit this week...

As you enjoy visiting your family and cookin' out in our 70 degree days with these fine culinary sauces...

You can enjoy yourself while you visiting your family for five days and five nights with sanity by staying at the Four Seasons Resort and Club Dallas at Las Colinas...

Before you enjoy Box Office tickets to the last Dallas Cowboys game of the season...

Of course, then you'll be hooked and this one visit will be over all too soon and then you will hate to leave and go back to Baltimore, so I have arranged to get you bumped up the list and flown in and driven by Ilana for every one of next season's Dallas Cowboys' games...

(No waiting for you, Pidomon.)

I hope you enjoy yourself for this week and throughout the next year, where you will have the distinct honor (sic- sorry) of being in my blogroll. There was a 'lil money left, so I am enclosing a 'lil cash...

And donating the remainder to a charity of your choosing...

The Breast Cancer Site

Merry Bloggermas, Pidomon!!!

Impeach Cheney- Can I Get a, "Hell, Yeah!" (Ok, ok, I know it's 8:08 CST on a Sunday Morning. Wake Up, Sleepy Head!)

OK, Ok, I have a veritable blogging spree to contend with here, given that I may be unable to blog for a few days, so I am just going for it, gonna post the three things I have for the next three days here now, while I am at work, before I go wash the laundry, drop of the dog, drop off the cat, drop off the car, drop off the videos... can you just drop me off here? Don't forget the hydraulic jack, the camera, the earrings my mom gave me last year that I hardly wear, the tulip bulbs in the fridge, the antique coat I have to sew because my daughter will actually need one, the hydraulic jack, the .... Have the kids put a new picture over the one they put on the cards yesterday in which one of them looks asleep and one of them looks dead and have them put on the one where they're all rockin' out and gangsta as compromise and don't forget to make them bathe. I still need to buy a few last minute gift certificates from McSweeney's. Resist urge to read the lists, but not the one to link them, but I am not about to turn down John in California's request in my comments yesterday to be somewhat responsible to a little more than my Froodlin' obligations. His comment speaks for itself. I have inserted the links and all, but the first parenthetical comments:

I have come to your site via 35%ers to ask all of you (as have bluegal last week) to use whatever influence you have to push the Alist bloggers (uh?) to make as much an effort to support Wexler’s petition as they did to goad/support Dodd and the FISA filibuster. As of this evening, Wexler’s Impeachment petition has over 129,000 signups, all without a major push on the blogs. Wexler’s goal is 250K but I think if the left blogosphere were to make it a priority, one million signature before Jan8, 08 (when the Judiciary Committee returns to business) is very possible. That would be the kind of outcry that Pelosi and Conyers could not ignore (like the clear "end the war" statement that the last election mandated?) I am just a lowly commenter (?), and, therefore I have found, of no consequence, to the A-listers. That’s fine, I have no personal sense of importance about this but do think that impeaching cheney is the first step in returning to a democracy (Yes!) I am, of course, aware that hearings and trial would increase Dennis’s visibility but that is only a side benefit, not an ulterior motive. At any rate, I hope you will get behind an effort to get all lefty blogs to link Wexler’s petition daily and request their readers to sign up if they haven’t yet done so. Glenn Greenwald (I cannot follow that link currently) credits a few blogger with getting together to push for Dodd to hold and the filibuster FISA resulting in 500K emails in just a few day(s). Think how effective a similar effort would be with Impeachment. Thanks for anything you can do, Merry Christmas and Go Dennis!

Despite my recent 40 point technorati boost due to Splotchy's story virus and the fact that my blog came up for a friend of mine in a Google search for "Hall and Oates 2008, I Can Go For That," I am not an A-Lister, but merely forth on the non-exclusive list over at the 35%ers site because Freida Bee starts with an "F", but will put your request here and urge any of you who might consider yourselves "Left" of center (maybe a couple of ya's) to oblige John's request and link to Wexler’s Impeachment petition.

Thank you and have a Merry Froodle with this video by a Hermit that might have been in the eggnog. Better him than me... for your sake!


I Got Nothin', But When Has That Ever Stopped Me?

Sheeesh, I got nothin' ya'll. Seriously, when finals were upon me, my mind was fertile blogomaniaville (without the fruitfulness,) but now that a few days off are upon me, Froodles are all I got and I feel a little dirty every time I draw one, not just because of the fact that my drawing has been so classically mocked in my immediate local family of artists, where I am the weakest link, but because they are so clearly Splotchy doodle knock-offs. I assure you that is not why I am not Froodling now, however. I do not feign such principles nor generally lament inhaling after the fucking of a lifetime; remember, I arrogantly claim to be the evolutionary Democratic spark from the Republican family tree, though I am from that rare breed, a family of atheist Republicans who do not deny evolution and thereby themselves evolve. These contradictions made me who I am, so it should be a surprise to no one that my Froodling abilities would be calling me at this, a ghastly 8:30 AM, but alas, I am still in bed because it is warm under my covers, the kids have no school, and my Froodle scanner is way over there.

Another reason I think it premature to fill orders for Randal's and Dr. Monkey's Froodle requests, if Dr. Monkey's could be called that rather than a manly, I mean monkeyly, threat (to invade for my possession of weapons of mass destruction -maybe mass distraction, as I am attempting to enrich your cranium (I wish) my dear Monkeyman,) is that Randal's pertains to a holy holiday hell (whoa, a triple redundancy) Froodle of Robot Santa and such and so forth and I must say I think people sure are getting a little gung-ho about this Christmas thing earlier and earlier each year. I mean, really, it's December 21, yesterday was a balmy 70 degrees, and I'm supposed to be wrapping presents, already, presumably, purchased. I don't think so.

These pose the perfect storm of blogging-as-avoidance conditions I thoroughly thrive on, not to mention that I have finally come up with an idea inspired for at least one relative and I shall be needing to begin crocheting a blanket for a very special sick relative this year. I think there's just enough time. Actually, I think this shall become a joint venture with my daughters as we face 10 hours in the car come Monday. When, oh when will "THEY" put wireless access on the rural highways of Oklahoma?

I will take this here opportunity to announce an honor by which I have been greatly humbled: "Tis me placement on me Cap'n's mound o'er at Cap'n Dyke, Lesbian Queen and Rogue Blogger's ship. Made me Shipmistress she did, so I shall now be a'swabbin' the Cap'n's deck and whate'er other duties she sees me fit to be havin'. She e'en be allowin' me t'pimp her ship with ye banner o' The Mound o'er in me sidebar. A merry Solstice (2:08 AM CST) me be havin' indeed!

And, I wish upon ye all the same as the Sun moves from Sagittarius to Capricorn and winter is upon us. Maybe I can go buy my daughters the pants they'll be needing here shortly and get by with calling that a present. Actually, if they cost $74 from American Apparel, and look the same as the $7.00 ones at the thrift store, I believe that's exactly what I become entitled to do.

All I want for Christmas is an iSplotchy $hoodie, some swanky brown boots and a shuffle. Oh Saaanta, come let me sit in your lap and whisper my holiday wishes in your ear. I promise I've been naughty and there's still time to prove it.


Is There A Doctor In The Froodle?

Dr. Zaius and His Happy Underpants

A Todos los Competidores Presidenciales,

Have yourselves a merry little,
Non-denominational, silly putty,
I mean, keep your money,
Corporate holiday season and day off work.

The time is nigh for the savings
To be transferred from the hands
Of those who worked hard for the money all year
To those who shall now call their books “in the black.”

So please, be good to yourselves in this season
Of holiday beers, I mean sneers, I mean cheers
And be sure you don’t find yourself a casualty
Of the Dreaded War on Christmas.

Which you will know has occurred if you find yourself
A Happy Underpants giver or wearer be.
A Froodle (a cheap imitation Splotchy Doodle,) Dr. Zauis
And Happy Underpants is what I have to offer, uh thee.


While You're On The Road Again...

Dear Splotchy,

I am so sorry you were tortured by the iSplotchy, but I suppose, as one of the leading presidential contenders, I must see that her use of torture was warranted in the end. The Splotchy Story Virus was a good thing and I now see how a president's use of torture to spread a virus through the population can be for its own good.

The iSplotchy (with her John Oates 'stache and fanny pack combo, circa 1985) controlling Splotchy, forcing him to unleash a deadly virus into the blogosphere

(P.S.- Without a scanner here at work, I froodled, took a picture with my camera phone, bluetoothed it to my laptop, saved it on my zipdrive thingy, and uploaded it to my work computer, where I can now post, sooo... while the drawing took 60 seconds, the process took 623 seconds and the end-state Froodle is even more inferior in quality than my original Doodle knock-offs.) Enjoy.

Love, Freida


Pardon My French, Señorita...

Oh, wonderousness. I have been tagged again. I have mixed feelings about this though, because I like the prospects of this meme. No, it’s not as catchy or clever as the Splotchy story virus or the five courses you would take if you could. I liked that one, but this, in true meme fashion, is one of those self-indulgent ones where it’s all about me. Thanks Randal. You asked for it.

What four things do you love most about living in France? Ok, I’m going to play along on this one, because I do not hold it outside of the realm of future possibilities, but think that Spain, Italy, Ireland, Australia, Canada, or Mexico might be more my style, what with my not speaking French and having taken one semester of Italian and four of Spanish. But, they do speak the universal language of love there, right? So, I do not claim that these would or could actually happen or exist in France, but they are my four favorite things about my imaginarily living there:

Women’s not shaving is the norm. I, of course have no idea if this is true, but heard it is and I best get my ass over there before that gets Amurcanized.

All that stuff in Sicko, the movie about the healthcare and the fact that people strike if they’re getting screwed by their government and stuff like that. I’m a little bit socialistic, a little bit rock and roll and I imagine France is the same.

Having sex more often. That happens there, right?

Culture and shit like that. Museums and that leaning tower thing. And, of course, seeing Stereolab in one of those discoteque places, you know, those. (Oh, well, I will not as likely be seeing them there in France as they reside in London these days, but their lyrics are half in French and I luv 'em.)

That Eurail Thing and the fact that I could travel to five other countries in the time it takes for me to drive to my parents' house. Plus, that would afford me the oppportunity to see the fields full of lavender. I think they have those there and I am guessing they wouldn't be obscured by incessant billboards.

Right now, I am also imagining it to be very French to misread the question and give more information than was requested, but am afreain' that smacks of The American Way.

What four most memorable jobs have you had? Memorable may be a word I am not all that ready to associate with jobs in my life at this point and I certainly hope that ones I would eventually choose here lie ahead of me, but it's what the meme sayeth:

One of my favorite jobs was working at an organic gardening center. I had worked briefly for an organic all women's landscape company's crew called Stronger than Dirt and learned a little about Texas native plants and then my husband and I move for a year and a half up the Dallas/ Fort Worth area and I got the job there. It was one of those jobs, my favorite kind (before my recent two year job I refer to as perma-break,) where they pay you to learn. I learned as many native plants by sight and Latin name that is humanly possible (and, ooh I'm good at plants 'cause I love them.) I was also psyched to learn about organic pest control and gardening techniques so as to sell people the proper shit. This is the guy to learn all that from 'round these parts. This job enabled me to later work as an office manager at a landscaping/ lawn-care company, where I also got to write the company newsletter and create and implement a super swank landscape design (and they have even kept the plants and the design now for four years.) I need to photograph it, because I am so proud, but I'm never in that neighborhood due to said swank.

I was the dietary cook at a nursing home for the same year and at the same time I worked at that gardening center and, though it was a bust-ass job, I only worked with one person most of the day and she only spoke Spanish before my four semesters of Spanish. Suffice to say, I would spend a whole day speaking in the present tense. The people that lived there were very nice and on occasion, I would catch myself thinking in Spanish and dreaming in Spanish and I kinda miss it for that.

I already wrote about this here, my coming of age as a liberal from a very Republican family occurred while I worked at the Republican Party of Texas. It wasn't pretty or able to be forgotten.

Delivering pizzas. My parents gave me a Chevy Impala when I was 19 and I went and lied and got a job delivering pizzas the next day without even knowing the major streets of Austin and this was in the days before Mapsco, but I managed (to smoke pot nearly 24/ 7 that year.)

The original deli in the original Whole Foods was Martin Brother's Deli. The Martin Brothers opened a restaurant on the drag where I worked as a line cook initially. I became eggs/ omelettes at brunch and worked prep there on occasion over time too. I rewrote the recipes while I worked there for the prep crews, to be more instructive and readable, which I enjoyed, and got paid to learn about nutrition and cooking exquisitely. I left there for a year and a half and came back with a babe in arms and for the brief time I lived with her dad, Martin Brothers allowed us to job-share. We were both hired and trained to work there and they allowed either of us to show up as we decided for ourselves. That was one of the coolest working situations I've been in, progressive and I think should be implemented more, particularly for parents with new children.

Oops, that was five, but I'm not erasing.

Four quirky things about the way I eat (and drink): Ok, I have a few of these:

I started this after I read about food combining and it just stuck. I eat the most digestible items (raw foods => cooked veggies => whole grains => proteins => fats) in a meal first and proceed through each item, in order of digestibility, almost nearly to completion, before I begin the next. You wouldn't know it to see me eating, I'd imagine, and I don't think about it. But, I do it. Another sign I have undiagnosed OCD.

I don't drink alcohol, for reasons that shall remain not all that anonymous and I love coffee, but if I have two cups straight-up, I am on the verge of a caffeine-induced mania, so I switcher to decaf after the first.

I recently became a vegetarian again, on Thanksgiving, but I was in the past for four years, but when I was pregnant with my first daughter, I was having eczema and weight loss in my pregnancy and had a dream I shall not forget in which I was standing around a pagan fire circle and Jesus (who I had just before that read was likely raised vegetarian in his Essene roots) handed me this mammoth leg of meat that everyone was passing around and taking a bite off of and said, "But, don't you want to eat meat?" I cried with relief, "Yes," and took a bite and started to eat fish the next day and had no more excema (Oh, it was on my face!) within two weeks. Thank you, sweet-fucking Jesus.

Likely, another factor related to my health and the above scenario were that I was hyperthyroid for years and years and was discovered to have wanker goiter (thyroid tumor) in my forth pregnancy. I took thyroid suppressing medicine until I was able to not nurse my son for a few days and had it, which was most of my thyroid gland at that point, which was also noduley and all, but benign in the end, removed. I now take synthetic thyroid medicine every morning first thing and then wait one hour before eating. It's hard to be served breakfast in bed this way, but I'm still wishing it would happen. (Just slip me my pill first.) Also, I can no longer eat like a horse and get thinner and thinner each year. Crap! That's what eventually cured my teenage eating disorder (the remnants that remained at the age of 23 that smoking a pack of cigarettes a day and pot incessantly hadn't,) trying to eat to gain weight in pregnancy and being unable to do so.

What are your four favorite foods? Not. Easy. To. Say. But, I'll say these:

Indian Food. Indian Food. Indian Food. If it has spinach, basmati rice, curry, chick peas, or eggplant and masala in the name, I love it!

The picture at the top of this post is what I ate for dinner last night after I had two math finals in one day. My husband and I went to dinner last night at the infamous Kerby Lane and I had those potato flautas, which were Indian spiced inside, served in a Mexican package. That's another kind of food I like, food that is of mixed genre, combining the best elements of the best. That's kinda how I cook. If you are coming to dinner, expect curried potato latkes, black beans cubano, homemade pico de gallo y sautéed green beans cooked to my own special perfection.

Blackberries straight from the vine.

I'll have carob malt balls or tapioca pudding for dessert.

Four recipes you cook all the time? Come and get it:

Potatoes. If they are small (red, black or mixed fingerling- hehe,) I will put them in my cast iron with some olive oil and salt and plop them in the oven for just shy of an hour, uncovered, but stirring a couple times and putting some dill, pakrika, parsley and occasionally bothering to open in halves and putting cheese on top of (feta would be my preferred) a little before removing from the oven.

We mix it up quite a bit and I don't call spaghetti sauce on noodles a recipe, so I'll put my number one requested meal by my 8 year-old, corn waffles. I still have to look in my tattered edition of How to Cook Everything after all these years, (though in a pinch, I can improvise alright; you just might get a crepe instead of a pancake,) but I use a cornmeal pancake recipe with an extra egg and put in actual corn (steamed and cut off the cob) and stick it in the waffle maker. Actually, with four kids and not so much time, I have two waffle makers given to me from my mother in-law and grandmother in-law I use in tandem. Serve with black beans, sour cream, diced tomatoes and onions, baked stuffed rellenos, and you've got yerself a supper.

Zucchini quartered lengthwise and shortened to 2-3 inch segments, braised in butter and seasoned with paprika and cumin for a few moments before adding a tad bit of water and soy sauce. I used to minimize the water and cook it off, but I am preferring to leave it a little soupy these days, sure winner, even with my finicky youngest.

"We're having frozen pizzas (sometimes they're even those gourmet ones,) so eat these baby carrots and this ranch dip until they're ready, while you watch Simpsons and do your homework and you can have ice cream after. No, thank you, I'll eat standing up while I am cooking again." That happens too.

Because I haven't in too long, I love her food segments, and she actually lived in France, I'll tag DCup. If you're all meme'd out, put it in yer pocket for a rainy day, darling.


Now, For Something Completely Different, I mean, Real...

This is amazingly bullshittish, so I thought you should know about it. I heard a roomful of dumbass disk jockeys on the would-be Republican classic rock station (Busted. Do you ever have the same morbid compulsion? You know, just to see what shit Rush Limbaugh actually will say like I do from time to time?) complaining about Romney's response to a man with MS's question re: medical marijuana (Yes, and were you really surprised?) They were just going around on their mikes lamenting the fact that there are no Republican candidates that have the courage to free the drug war prisoners or stop a war his or her constituency clearly opposes, but that they would be forced to vote for the biggest loser, I mean , Republican nominee, when Hilary is the Democratic nominee. I wanted to shout at my radio, "Kucinich! You idiots!" but I'm really too stressed about finals to mess with such lanacy. (Ok- I hope you didn't just believe that.)

Manila made this great video and the Hermit made another about the Dec. 15th money push for Kucinich. I managed a tiny birthday gift for my main man and probably will not feel able to do a full $100 (don't tell anyone,) but will give something that day. My eight year-old son calls me "Cheapy-the-Cheapskate," so I assure you this is no small gesture (and neither do I claim it grand.) I know that Presidential underpants, meme's and Froodles are beginning to reign supreme around these parts (and will soon, dear Splotchy- that one's for the INSANE Technorati boost tagging me for your story virus caused- 36=> 60 and counting, but who's counting?)

So, without further ado, Manila's vid+ a moving write up by Marianne Williamson (via The Largest Minority too.) It's clear why she makes the big bucks and I am writing this. Read it. Seriously. My "Damn That's Sexy" season finale, featuring a cast of all of my comfy shoes will come as soon as I can be left to such ridiculousness. That should be Tuesday or Wednesday. You have been warned (Fran!)

Politics And The Thought Police
by Marianne Williamson

The thought police are an insidious lot.

Their headquarters aren’t in some bright shiny building. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that their headquarters are in many shiny buildings.

And they don’t announce themselves as the thought police. Who needs to get into the messy work of actually policing people, when it’s so easy just to fool them? They’re more like a Bureau of Thought Manipulation. This being an election season, they’re particularly active now — throughout the media, the government, the Republican National Committee and the Democratic National Committee. They - not the President, as much as he might like to think he is - are the “deciders.”

Liberals like to think our thoughts aren’t controlled. We pride ourselves on our independent thinking. We know we shouldn’t believe everything we read. We realize the media is biased, we know it’s owned by a small group of people, etc. So given all that, one has to ask oneself: why are Democrats buying so much prevailing b.s. hook, line, and sinker, allowing ourselves to be led down the same path that led us to defeat in the last two presidential elections?

Remember Howard Dean, the anti-war candidate? As much as a lot of us liked him, we were led to believe we’d have to be more mature about this. We couldn’t just indulge our passion. We had to be smart here; no just going with our gut, or - God forbid - our principles. We were pressured by the official thought manipulators to go with someone “electable,” like John Kerry. It’s as though some Democratic “wisdom council” — the same guys who told Gore he’d never be elected if he just spoke from his heart, and clearly must have told John Kerry the same thing — decide not just the political strategy that will supposedly win the White House, but even the thoughts that the rest of us have to buy into in order to give them permission to determine the strategy.

No one ever stops to ask “Who are these guys?” (Interestingly, George Washington warned us in his farewell address about “the baneful effects of the spirit of party generally.” ) We always just assume they know what they’re talking about. We figure they’re the ones who understand politics.


So after Kerry lost, for at least a day or two we saw through the fog. Those guys needed to be run out of town, we all shouted! Their strategy had led to defeat! Next time, we were going to go with our gut, stand on our principles! In retrospect, we could see that Gore and Kerry would have been better off if they had come across like genuine alternatives to the Republicans - not just Republican lites! We got it! 2008 would be different!

Oh yeah? Look again.

That same crowd is still clearly in charge, because you can tell their thought patterns a mile away. Today, their chosen candidate has a hyphenated name: Clinton-Obama-Edwards. This tri-candidate has all the markings of DNC thought manipulator approval: Just enough illusion of real difference from the Republicans to keep the not-yet-resisting-thought-manipulation Democrat happy; and just enough similarity to the prevailing establishment that the American people should buy it. This has been our strategy for the last two presidential elections, has it not? And just like Bush regarding his policy in Iraq, we seem to be in complete denial that our policy is a failed one. It didn’t work last time, or even the time before that.

And I don’t think we should assume it will work in 2008.

For those of us who actually think we should bring the troops home now, tell me again why we’re not supporting Kucinich?

Silly me! Because he could never win, of course! He’s not electable! Didn’t I get the memo?

I’ve known Dennis Kucinich for a long time, and I don’t think I have illusions about him. Sometimes I find him pompous, male chauvinistic, intellectually unbending. But he is a good man, and a serious one. Some sort of clown? No. New Age woo woo? No way (of course, the thought manipulators have labeled me that as well, so some people would say something here about the pot and the kettle). His banishment to the margins of our political dialogue, his mockery by the media-DNC elite special forces, has less to do with who he is, and what he stands for, than it has to do with the anti-Democratic forces that have highjacked our politics on both sides of the aisle.

Why won’t we take Dennis Kucinich more seriously as our candidate in 2008? Because Tim Russert took twenty minutes to even get around to asking him a question in the last debate. Because Russert’s idea of a real question — after a couple of times when Kucinich inconveniently hit the ball out of the park with his answers –was to query him about seeing a UFO, then throwing in Shirley McLaine’s name just to confirm the kill. It didn’t matter that Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan had both spoken about seeing UFO’s. What mattered was how the image could be used to make Kucinich appear ridiculous — serving the strategy of the elite machine still running things and for whom Kucinich is not an acceptable candidate.

In 2004, Kucinich was the only Presidential candidate who warned that a war in Iraq would be completely disastrous. I remember how mocked he was when he predicted hand-to-hand combat in Baghdad. I remember Candy Crowley, and other reporters as well, treating his views on the impending war as ridiculous, out there, almost insane. I remember Democratic strategists rolling their eyes then, as they do about him now. But in fact, Dennis Kucinich was the one who turned out to be right. I have to ask you: Who’s zoomin’ who?

Something very dark, almost Orwellian, is afoot here, and the issue is much bigger than whether or not Dennis Kucinich gets a shot at the Presidency. It’s about whether or not we do. Or whether the thought manipulators have it all sewn up.

Sitting at a party recently, among some powerful liberals ringing their hands about Hillary appearing heartless, Obama appearing weak, and Edwards appearing - well, no one can quite put their finger on it - I said, “The only question any real progressive should be asking right now is, ‘Tell me again why we’re not supporting Kucinich?’ ” The room grew silent. There was no, “Awe, come on, be serious!” No one good-naturedly shouted me down, as they would have two or three months ago. Rather I was met by silence. I saw people around me slowly nodding their heads.

I feel a shift. Subtle. But there. People are starting to wake up to the fact that a media/political party-complex basically decide our candidate, then create the illusion for the rest of us that in fact we’re the ones who did the deciding. But the only thing we’re truly free to decide now - and which we should decide now — is whether we’ll put up with all this thought manipulation for one minute more.

…Tell me again, why we’re not supporting Kucinich?

—- Marianne Williamson

Are YOU a 35 Percenter, yet?


It's Time For a Presidential Ho-Down

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(Non-Crappy StarringYou! eCards on JibJab)

Hurry ‘round kids,
Now don’t you know
It’s time for the
Presidential Do-Si-Do?

With doctors in the house,
They’re sure to take the lead
'Til a splotchy in the middle
Comes up on his steed.

An intergalactic gladiator’s
Sure to find
Voters out in space
That will blow your mind.

Candidates won’t ya just
Up and clap your hands,
Have a ho down for the masses,
Like a battle of the bands?

Presidential underpants
Are all we care about.
Rarely have we seen ‘um.
And it’s time ya pulled ‘em out!

(Well, this may not be exactly true as Dr. Zaius has revealed his presidential boxer proposal and Dr. Monkey Monkey has had us swimming in his bikini'd package, but that's just how the song goes.)

Mathman, A Froodle is Served...

DCup, Mathman wanted a Froodle, so please let him know how it is.


A Real World Curriculum

Finally, a reason to say it!

In proper blogging fashion, Randal Graves has tagged me back with this (YET ANOTHER) brilliant meme.

Here's the deal: Write about 5 classes you would like to take if you could make up your own curriculum. AND- and this is important, ONE of them must come from your tagger's list.

This is what we offer here at Freida Bee U:


Listen, us unattractive types have enough problems as it is getting up close and personal with that special human being. Or, even if they're not all that special, they're at least lustable. So what to do when you have the unshaven face of a coked-out Alice In Chains roadie, no fancy car nor snappy threads? Lyrical lamentations of leering love, losers! Birth paeans like Byron, pen like Petrarch, cajole like Catullus, seduce like Shakespeare, be risque like Ronsard - once you've completed our course, a few simple lines will have you gasping for air after the dirty deed has been done uncounted times! Casanova? A chump!


If you are sick of feeding the wealthy with all your hard work and sweat, this class is for you! A required course for those pursuing arts degrees, this course can help you make employment choices that reflect, in a sense, doing what you love. Break out of the middle man class structure by learning to: lead a fossil fuel free lifestyle, shop locally, barter, and connect with others seeking to do the same. Prereq. Requirements include a blog, a zine, a local radio show, a bicycle, but being ANGRY AS HELL will suffice in the absence of any and all of the previous requirements.


Do you love sex? Have you done just about everything your creative mind can fathom and just want new ideas? Is your partner not as kinky as you and you want to implement your ideas with other like-minded students? Here at the FreidaBee U, we encourage you to explore your sexuality. This course will help you to: determine or sexpand your gender preferences, sexplore and create new sexniques, practice your sexquisite lovemaking skills with the guidance of our trained sexperts, turn any word containing “ex” into a sexual reference with a few simple sexplanations and more. Please note: This class follows “HOW TO FIND A LOVER WITH BAD POETRY” and may be taken simultaneously with your own self-approval.

LIT 101: This is a self-paced, web-based course.

Do you find the idea of writing a short story or poem daunting? Do you fear publishing rejection? Procrastinate no more! This course will have you writing these 101 word items in your sleep. This is the ideal introductory course to writing, which can be followed up by the series Lit 202, Lit 303, etc. until you are writing a short story or novel or by the blogging or poetry series. Works produced in the class will be happily presented on No Cure For That. This class is perfectly timed with ncft’s upcoming revamption and rejuvenation. (Seriously submit your writing!)

DOGMATIC ELIMINATION: This class will meet whenever students feel like it.

Are you tired of being ashamed that you have bodily functions and needs? Do you find a little voice of guilt in your head when things are going well in your life? Is your life diminished by rules you were taught that contradict logic and do more harm than good? If you answered “yes” to any of these questions (or ones you personally deem more relevant,) you may be ready to eliminate your dogma! This class will study the following books: Blasphemy is Good For Me, The Undoing of Authoritarian Thinking, Consensus Rules, Anarchy is Not Chaos, Homosexuality is Not a Disease, Masturbation Will Not Make You Go Blind, Evolution Is Scientific, Global Warming is Happening, and more. This class will include seminars on the following subjects: Boodie Shakin’, Speaking the Truth, Poverty is a Crime that Needn’t Be, Practical Condom Application, and more. You needn’t be enrolled in this class to attend and payments for this class will be on the Honor System.

I tag these people who I think will have worthwhile curricula (and I haven't tagged them in the last week already):

Germaine Gregarious
DCap (You have been unscathed by the meme's from what I can tell as of late and that ends here.)
Liberality (When school's over for you and you are free to turn to thoughts of how you would have rather spent your time this semester.)
Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator
Commander Other (One day blogrolled and yes, I am tagging you. This run of memes' got me desperate. What can I say?- Plus I want to see your curriculum.)


A Froodle For Randal...

Edgar Allan Poe and Charles Baudelaire discussing the darkest depths of the soul over glasses of the finest wine.

(Ok, Ok, you can't see the glasses (and the table on which they must be sitting,) but they are there, just not visible.)

A Froodle For Whiskey Marie...


Please don't hate me for making your arms so skinny; I was going for relativity, but I shoulda started bigger with mine to make yours properly sized. I just assumed you'd be wearing leopard print and was going for this facial expression.

A 'Lil Blasphemy For Breakfast

This is for those of you who will not be going to church this morning. I know it's Saturday. That opens it up to more people. Brad Neely's Professor Brothers tell it like it was.

Holy FUck!

This is what I was talking about!

It makes one want to say...

God Bless Ronald Reagan!


Splotchy's Story Virus

Splotchy started this story. Here are his own words to describe what this is.

"This has probably been done before, but that is not stopping me, oh no.

Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.

If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.

Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours."

I have avoided reading the other strands as to not be affected by their versions and may tag someone tagged elsewhere. If you have already been tagged, let me know. I certainly don't mind being tagged a little later to add another paragraph (or more if you wish) as the story develops.

I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen. (Splotchy)

I was used to the house being quite cold in the mornings, as the night log usually burns out around one AM when I am dreaming cozily under my covers, not normally waking to put a new one on until morning. I was surprised because on the rare occasions that it actually had reached sub-freezing temperatures in the house, I had awakened in the night to restart the fire. I would have been worried about the pipes before P-Day, but there hadn’t been running water in two years and that was one of the few advantages to being dependent on rainwater, no pipes. (Freida Bee)

To be continued...

I am asking the following awesome people to continue the next part of this story and pass it on to someone else.

Take it away:

Angry Ballerina
Evil Spock

Splotchy offered us a doodle and in the true Christmas spirit of unoriginality, I will offer my carriers an original limited-edition"Froodle" for participating. (It's a cheap knock-off of an original Splotchy Doodle.) Just leave your request in the comments and I will add them to the bottom of this post when you have become infected. Maybe the doodle aspect will go viral too? Mwahahaha. Cough. Cough. Now, I can go read the other stories. Finally.

A Viral Story

I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen.

I was used to the house being quite cold in the mornings, as the night log usually burns out around one AM when I am dreaming cozily under my covers, not normally waking to put a new one on until morning. I was surprised because on the rare occasions that it actually had reached sub-freezing temperatures in the house, I had awakened in the night to restart the fire. I would have been worried about the pipes before P-Day, but there hadn’t been running water in two years and that was one of the few advantages to being dependent on rainwater, no pipes.

To be continued...

I am asking the following awesome people to continue the next part of this story and pass it on to someone else. Splotchy started the original strand and you can trace the innumerable story variances as it goes on ad infinitum, or until you vulnerable people are immune to our story-telling wiles.

I have avoided reading the other strands as to not be affected by their versions and may tag someone pagged somewhere else. I certainly don't mind being tagged a little later to add another paragraph (or more if you wish) as the story develops.

Take it away:


Splotchy offered us a doodle and in the true Christmas spirit of unoriginality, I will offer my carriers an original limited-edition "Froodle" for participating. (It's a cheap knock-off of an original Splotchy Doodle.)

Last. Day. Of. Classes.

Trying to salvage a few grades yet.
Have a piece of this here all-American Apple Pie.
Yes, Dr. Zauis, you can have two.

This Is My United States of Whatever

My Splotchy viral strand is working up some killer resistance and will be ready for infection later today. I'd better hurry, because I am avoiding reading the others' as not to be influenced and that is getting increasingly hard, not to mention, everyone I know will be infected, I mean tagged, before too long.


One In Which I Am All Ranty

It is not too often that I do not know what I will blog about here ahead of time, and I must warn you that, in lieu of solid ideas, I usually revert to poetry to abstractualize the emptiness of my thoughts. Let's call that being Zen for now, Ok? Of course underpants never bore me and I have so many comfortable shoes, I am not finished photographing them for the final episode of "Damn, That's Sexy." Sure, there are plenty of political things to write about here in the wake of the Democratic Debate, which I have downloaded into my iTunes, but not listened to fully. Coincidentally, if you do this, the debate will classify itself as being in the genre "blues." Apropos? I agree. I did not submit my question to Dennis Kucinich, as I should have, "Dennis, how do you feel about the fact that your liberal stance (opening for comments re: wide stances of the others here,) while being in alignment with a majority of Democrats, still finds a you rating very low in the polls? One could attribute this phenomenon to mainstream media coverage, but how do you feel about NPR itself ALSO biasing it's coverage of the previous democratic debates by playing three of Hillary Clinton's responses, two of Barrack Obama's, one of John Edwards', a quip of Chris Dodd's humorous statement and Gravel's most outrageous comment of the evening and NONE of your responses?" Perhaps, had I asked this question, they would not have covered their own debate in THE EXACT SAME WAY AGAIN this morning. Maybe this blog will be getting this point across now, once and for all. Holding. Breath.

Ok, sometimes when one is receptive, he or she will have a blogportunity hit him on the head. I just picked up one of Mike Huckabee's flyers on campus. I am afraid in addition to wanting to overturn Roe v. Wade, he may be bucking to outlaw divorce in this constitutional amendment he proposes (am I starting a rumor? Well he states, "My personal belief is that marriage is between a man and a woman, for life," and then "I do not separate my faith from my personal and professional lives." -Maybe it's just his environmental policy.) THERE my friends would be one of the largest losses of freedom imaginable, the inability to decide who one fucks. And, don't tell me one is not free to change his or her mind, in one month, in fifteen years. This is tantamount to perpetual date rape or pure asexual hell. How has that become of us while Germany seriously considered the seven year marriage? I am afraid the patriot/ fascist shoe is on the other foot, which is about to drop, by the way. And while we're on the subject, I wish the Navy would fuckin' quit sending me flyers on my federal dime to join up because I am a student. If you are willing to sign for the military now, you can get $2500+ per month plus your education paid for if you will JUST serve upon graduation for a while (I hope I did not just convince someone.) I haven't noticed these incentives for teachers, doctors, medical or environmental researchers, or child care workers. It is quite clear what our national government values. And while we're at it, let's invest in Reagan's Star Wars thing (and give it a cool name,) because if we build it, they WILL come (cum?) despite what intelligence might suggest. Intelligence is overrated I always say.

There is nothing less sexy than riding bicycles with a smart man or woman, healthy from all that hippy food who does not wear the latest fashions available at your local Mall©. I mean really, an outspoken jerk who knows what he or she wants and thinks and TALKS about it and then changes his or her mind from time to time when facts warrant proper consideration, c'mon! Oh, and how unattractive is the idea that someone would stay with me because they WANT to rather than because it was mandated by a little piece of paper given by a lecherous preachy guy or a guy in a George Washington curly wig (I was actually in a courthouse on Halloween one year and saw a funny judge wear on of those as a joke.) I mean, really!

I know I always am complaining that my family is Republican, but they are cool (and I am not necessarily hoping they discover my bloggyness when I am visiting them on Christmas tree day,) but may be in a blogging pickle if the cabin we are staying in doesn't have internet access; it did not last year. Arggh! But, I do have a few relatives that I have told about this blog (I don't think they read it,) but my daughter's got a cool aunt and uncle. Of course she is way cooler than me as a few of you pointed out re; her liking Regina Spektor in my last post and then she went an spent her PE hour yesterday getting photo shot as the "Best Dressed Freshman." I hope this doesn't make her want more clothes, but she comes by it naturally in that her uncle, married to her rockin' aunt, made this video that I thought I'd put here after that Washington reference earlier (rather than the scanned Huckabee flyer- believe me it's atrocious,) even though I posted it early on in my bloggin career as many of you were not yet with me and Brad's Professor Brothers have their new site that's cool and if anyone's not watchin' his shit, stop that immediately! He and his wife are ones in whom I can find political comfort in Arkansas (Mike Huckabee's home state,) the former Land of Opportunity while those who love me will chastise me and give me presents (see last post.) See why I'm so conflicted and complicated?

Oh, one little story about my daughter (who did take the photo above.) A few years ago my son (the one who would wear leather) who CONSTANTLY asks questions (yes, one would think she would want...) was asking questions about poverty and what it means to be poor and asked if we were. I said well, technically... kinda. Maybe we could be considered as such. This is one reason I am going back to school, blah, fucking, blah and then my daughter retorted, "Well, I"M not poor!" I am proud of her and glad that our children will surpass us, even if it is in their fashion sense. I was just an incompetently clad "most athletic" with this, my favorite band. What the world and this post need now, it seems, is the long awaited patriot of yore...


¡Los Bastardos!

Ohio. X-mas. '72. Stuff.

The rules:

1. Put your music player on Shuffle

2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.

3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER WHAT (This is in capital letters, so it is very serious.)

IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY? Yellow Submarine, Ringo Starr (Maybe this is why things don't always go my way.)


WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL? Them Not-So Dry Bones, Schoolhouse Rock (Yes, my standards are THAT high.)

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY? Drifter in the Dark, Ween

(So true, but all these Ween (my favorite band) songs are the country parodies, not my favorite. My shuffle sucks apparently.)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE? Fidelity, Regina Spector ((Oh man, here’s where I promptly type the disclaimer that I have welcomed my daughters to download music onto my laptop. I'm not really sure what this is. Oh, yea. -eh.) Oh- And it does take all my energy to accomplish said mission and even then....)

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO? Electricity, Electricity, Goodness (That's what I'm all about, baby.)

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU? Half Right, Elliot Smith (Really, that much?)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS? Don’t Bother Me, Beatles (Well, they are Republicans, but that's not really true.)

(That is so weird, all the time!)

WHAT IS 2+2? Summer, Modest Mouse
(I'd like to take credit for that song, but my daughters put it there.)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND? Schoolhouse Rocky, Bob Donoughy and Friends

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE? Powder Blue, Ween (That would be mean.)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY? Fame, David Bowie (Right.)

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? (untitled), R.E.M. (How apropos. Lovely song from Green.)

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE? I Don’t Want to Leave You on the Farm, Ween (That shit's funny.)

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU? One Small Step, Stereolab (If that.)

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING? You Used to Call Me Sadness, Stereolab (That's promising.)

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL? These Days, R.E.M. (That works. It's danceable too.)

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST? The Spark That Bled, The Flaming Lips (My favorite, it's true.)

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET? I Might Be Wrong, Radiohead (PLEASE, do not tell my husband!)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS? Little Twelvetoes, Chavez (Don't tell them that either. They might not understand how sick I am.)

WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS? Los Bastardos, Primus (YES!)

I am going to add one here:

WHAT TAG SHOULD I GIVE THIS POST? Let’s Dance, David Bowie (Let's.)

ANOTHER TAG? I Love Trash, Sesame Street’s Best (He he. No Offense!)

And that will be what does me in, and a fitting place to stop.

If you are so moved, consider yourself tagged! Thanks DCup! and Happy Birthday MathMan!


Translation: (I Don't Always Do What I'm Told)

I'm not really sure wth rot13 is, but Splotchy told me to write a post in it. Am I? I'm clueless here. The only thing I can come up with with such little forethought, is a ditty about presidential underpantsery as sung by Sandra Lou...

In a conference to propose
A GOP surge smelling like a rose
In his agenda of underpantsery,
Dr. Zaius has sent in his lieu
The seductive Sandra Lou.

The new national anthem, duh
Seductive incantations of "banana."
Will be heard thoughout the primating season.
Tell Dr. Zaius glamour he needn't feign
For this is Germaine Gregarious's domain.

Dr. Monkey stated, still not dissuaded
By the french accents they paraded,
"Stay the course, I do declare
Withdraw ye every goddamn troop.
I mean it or I'll throw my poop!"

Meanwhile iSplotchy, in his tirade
Into this season's underpants brigade
Has doodled his way to top ranks
By shamelessly promoting the iSplotchy $hoodie
Prompting DCap to ask, "But, should he?"

Now, these are only the front electables.
Fearing not these primates' delectables
Sleestak and Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator,
To seek the presidency do now contend,
From an invasion of these underpants they must defend!

And I'll be darned it this isn't my 100th post.


Splotchy Made Me Do It!

V'z abg ernyyl fher jgu ebg13 vf, ohg Fcybgpul gbyq zr gb jevgr n cbfg va vg. Nz V? V'z pyhryrff urer. Gur bayl guvat V pna pbzr hc jvgu jvgu fhpu yvggyr sbergubhtug, vf n qvggl nobhg cerfvqragvny haqrecnagfrel nf fhat ol Fnaqen Ybh...

Va n pbasrerapr gb cebcbfr
N TBC fhetr fzryyvat yvxr n ebfr
Va uvf ntraqn bs haqrecnagfrel,
Qe. Mnvhf unf frag va uvf yvrh
Gur frqhpgvir Fnaqen Ybh.

Gur arj angvbany nagurz, qhu
Frqhpgvir vapnagngvbaf bs "onanan."
Jvyy or urneq gubhtubhg gur cevzngvat frnfba
Gryy Qe. Mnvhf tynzbhe ur arrqa'g srvta
Sbe guvf vf Treznvar Tertnevbhf'f qbznva.

Zbaxrl, abg qvffhnqrq
Ol gur serapu nppragf gurl cnenqrq
Fgngrq, "V fnvq fgnl gur pbhefr,
Jvguqenjvat rirel gebbc.
V zrna vg be V'yy guebj zl cbbc!

Zrnajuvyr vFCybgpul, va uvf gvenqr
Vagb guvf frnfba'f haqrecnagf oevtnqr
Unf qbbqyrq uvf jnl gb gbc enaxf
Ol cebzbgvat uvf snzbhf $ubbqvrf
Cebzcgvat QPnc gb nfx, "Ohg, fubhyq ur?"

Abj, gurfr ner bayl gur sebag ryrpgnoyrf.
Srnevat abg gur cevzngrf' qryrpgnoyrf
Fyrrfgnx naq Wba gur Vagretnynpgvp Tynqvngbe
Gb frrx gur cerfvqrapl qb pbagraq
Gur bssvpr bs gur haqrecnagf gurl zhfg qrsraq!