¿Is This Whorin' or Pimpin'?

Well, I know I've said it a number of times, in one way or another, but I am affiliated with No Cure For That, so go check out the new site! I have some writing over there, Lit 101's and may not have mentioned here that I am the lit editor over there. We have been on hiatus for a while, so I haven't been nagging lately, but GO CHECK IT OUT and for GOD SAKES (What in the hell is that?) Submit to our whims, I mean, to us.

Of this Solicitor General you may want to ask, "What is a Lit 101?" You can see the ones at the old site (which was the second site) or my own excessive lot; mine are old and boring to me now. I want to read YOUR Lit 101 items. They can be poetic, fictional, silly, political, sexy, sacrilegious, or any combination of the above or of another sort.

On another related note, my daughter, The Artist (and future lip model) is the brain child with the brainchild. I'll give you the inside scoop, that she seems to be settling on The Artichoke and, since the point is to mock the adult world, she wants submissions to be exclusively from teens, as they know true (parental) oppression (unlike those freewheelin' college students.) So, if you know a teen or live with one you think has sarcastic talent (and whose parents won't banish them for affiliating with our site,) direct them and their brilliance our way!

You can become our friend over on MySpace and you can submit Lit 101's, love letters, hate mail, or your other correspondence to cwar.ncft@yahoo.com and you'll see that Comrade Kevin allowed us to cross-post his brilliant article I told ya'll about just the other day.

By the way, thanks for you pity. Don't let it stop there, spend 5 minutes, send in your Lit 101 today. As The Artist always says, "There are children in Africa."

Oh, and let's not forget The Hermit.

It's about time I saw someone piss on a picture of George W.!


Call Me Gimpy

It's about time I replaced that last depressing post with a new depressing post, don't ya think. I will try and avoid slipping into full-on Bushonic dialect, as we in Texas do when we're prone, which I am today. Actually, I am wishing I were today more than I actually am. My super mom immunities have finally succumbed to the viral strain which has rampaged this city (or at least my family and Austin bus drivers today.)

Let me go back a little. When I was in 4th grade, I smashed a bee between my hands and it stung my finger and I had an instant karma reaction. When in high school a sting garnered me blisters and hives and a schnazzy little epinephrine kit to carry around, as I did until it expired. A couple years later I got the best job in the world, a job at a health food store where my compulsive reading about nutrition on the tail end of an eating disorder finally paid off. It was one of the many opportunities I have had in which I got paid to learn things I wanted to learn (a gardening center job was another.) About two days into the job, I was being trained to work on the register and I turned around and noticed a leaky bee farm in the window just behind me. Aww shit! How had I not seen that? Life, you cruel trickster. Wait, that was the wrong story, but I will say that Mary, bless her heart, the first and only Mormon I have ever known up close and personally (and I loved her,) came up and scooped up a handful of bees and said, "Oh, you don't have to worry about them. They just want to go outside," as she released the handful out the front door, unscathed. I now realize she was likely wearing magic underpants, but devised my own system of putting a drop of honey on paper which the bees would come and eat and I was, without fail, able to pick up the paper and release them in the vicinity of the huge pear tree, aka "The Bee Magnet" out the front door. This technique has worked ever since. I did get stung a couple years ago by a bee that happened to land on something the very moment I put my hand there. I waited, a little freaked out (as I was no longer carrying the kit, believing I had turned my bee karma around (and am much healthier in the adrenal system after eating quite healthily for many years since my last reaction.)) I got some swelling and numbness and called the nurse line for an area hospital and the nurse said the numbness warranted a visit to the emergency room, but really nothing more seemed to be occurring. No anaphylactic shock or anything. They did give me a little Benadryl and a new prescription for my bee sting kit, but I do not anticipate ever having to use it, or my having the nerve to shoot raw adrenaline into my leg.

This was the wrong story. The one I meant to tell was the one in which I, as a disturbed child from a divorce in which my mother was abused and I am told I was before she left my father when I was seven, the point before which I blacked out all memory as did my brother, two years younger than me to the very same point, used to go around picking on boys in the playground of the first elementary school I attended for any duration. No one ever asked me what was up or anything and no one ever wanted to talk about anything. That was the seventies for god sakes. One of the only ways I got my identity was to be the fastest runner anywhere we moved. At this school, in sixth grade, a few of us were running on the Jr high track team a year early and a few of us would take turns being the fastest runner. KT was a head taller than me already (and I was my height now, 5'6' then) and had recently run faster than me in some timed event. When he got me out in a game in PE, that was just too much for my undeveloped anger-management skills to digest and I kicked him in the leg. Well, he did the natural thing, the thing no one had done before then, he kicked me back. Welp, yeppers he fractured my right leg in two places and I wore a scarlet letter cast for the next 6 weeks. (Incidentally, he later played basketball and football for OU and is a PE teacher himself.) By the end of that period, I was playing soccer in my cast, but my track days were on hold and I did a little number from then on out called "repressing my anger." It really didn't do me any good to express it, and lord knows, I had not been shown ways that might be healthy to say what was on my mind. As a young adult, I finally came to realize this and learned to say, "No." This was huge progress for me and when I entered into a relationship with my husband who saw speaking one's mind to be crass and rude, I was in shock. I have tried to cope with this, maneuver around this, transform this, and now, here, gossip (ugggh- enough,) but I want to recount what occurred last night.

I have felt myself gradually becoming sick over the last couple days, but yesterday I started to ache full-on. I was not up to cooking dinner and was just negotiating Wendy's baked potatoes, 99 cent salads and chicken nuggoids with my sons when my husband called, having just gotten off work. We decided to go for a rare out to eat moment. I picked a place I have meant to eat at in our usual stomping ground for some time, but had never gone to, and we met there. I got fresh squeezed lemonade, just what the doctor ordered, and for the first time ever, the serving of it was huge. I drank it all and they even refilled it. I could barely eat, as I was full of lemonade and was going down fast, so I excused myself early, and drove on home, the lumberjack with the kids behind me. I resisted the urge to puke while driving and waited 'til I got home. The weather was lovely yesterday and the thought of puking in the toilet while smelling the toilet made me want to puke, so I thought I would go out in our back "yard," which is a mini orchard with some young fruit trees, and do my business out there. So, pantless (I have attested to my affinity for being nude in our secluded yard here before,) I proceeded to fall down the stairs of our back porch, where, in the dark, I did not see that a stair step on the already-stairs-from-hell was missing. I laid on the ground. Fortunately, my husband was back by this point and I just yelled, hoping he'd come. He did and apologized profusely that he had neglected to tell me, as he had the kids, that the stair had broken the day before. I thought for a bit that I may have broken my leg and was kicking myself for not having signed up for the student health insurance earlier that day as I had intended to do and still had to puke, even more urgently now as my endorphins were on overdrive. I told him I just wanted to lay on the ground there and puke, just to leave me and come back in a bit and help me in and just cried and puked and laughed at the whole thing. "How did you break your leg, Freida? Well, I was going outside to puke and fell down the stairs." That was a story I did not want to tell anyone (hence, the appropriateness of telling it all ad-nauseum here.)

I can say that it does not appear to be broken, but my is ankle sorely sprained. Just as I felt the full circle nature of events when I saw that bee farm behind me in my new job which I loved, I knew that I had just come full circle in my near breaking of my left leg this time. After that last posting I did, the inappropriate, yet therapeutic, airing of marital grievances the other day, I have felt some things in me shift and feel more mellow about it all. Maybe it's because I'm sick, though I had to go take my daughter to school from her dad's, as I usually do on my own way to school, because I had asked her to take the bus and either 39 or 69 AISD bus drivers (I can't remember which I was told) called in sick today and her bus had not shown up 45 minutes late. I just went and took her myself. I was able to walk just fine and I think I shall now go soak in a hot bath and enjoy my new waterproof implement I just bought myself for Christmas. I'm sure Jesus would be happy I got myself that for his birthday and will offer to let him join me and my new nipple clamps, but he just has to be careful of my leg. Maybe that will help distract me from falling spy satellites and missiles. That's more than enough, don't ya think?


It's That Time of the Millennium...

One in which I get all real and shit.
It's officially not raining anymore, so I guess I'm supposed to let alone with the cheesy pictures, which prompt inappropriate postings, such as my faking the writing of an illiterate person. (The mulptiple stupidities were contained within the ad-makers' creations, but ya'll got that, right? I know you did, 'cause yur smart.) I am not sure if I am so smart. It could be that I think that I am, but I'm not or I don't think I am, but I am profoundly so (you know, evaluating all the options there, and a middle-of-the-road one will never do.) I refuse to allow writing this post to cheer me up, at least before I get to the depressing poem I've halfway written. In order to achieve this objective, I am alternately writing this, reading the first of four chapters I need to read out of my Applied Statistics book, thinking, and reading about thyroid and depressive disorders online. That should do the trick, and, in fact, I can tell you it is doing a right fine one at that.

I bickered with my husband last night, which, despite his assertions, I absolutely loathe to do. I have become much better in these nine years at suppressing my emotions, recognizing a dry well when I see one, and am therefore prone to that oh-so-pretty tendency of holding all my nasty thoughts in until I am a ticking timebomb and the release of one of them unfurls the whole slew. Believe it or not, this has made for a far more functional relationship than we previously had, but even I am not in such denial to have written that tidbitium of too-much-information to think that it is a maintainable technique to perpetuate.

One reason this has worked is that 78.23% of my nasty thoughts dissipate after 3 minutes, rendering previously considered verbage not only unnecessary, but considerably regretful. Unfortunately, years of personal and couple's therapy have not remedied said predicament and I have taken, not to the solicitation of advice, but to avidly complaining to anyone who will listen, hence the beauty of the written word. I should (yes, it's a naughty word) create a fictional character to whom I can attribute an overexaggeration of flaws, gifts and victimizations and resolve my own personal narrative vicariously through the writing of his or her plight, but I think I forgot to mention a laziness factor (and another one in which I come up with (not even all that good) excuses.)

So, as is becoming all too natural and acceptable, I slept on the couch twice this week "because it was easier to let the boys fall asleep in our bed" and in my daughter's bed last night, because I didn't want to spurt out those instantaneous thoughts, thus making things worse and there seems to be a competition for who gets the last word in those circumstances, and being such a martyr, I extend that to him if I can walk away and feel justifiably like a victim. Yes, the back of my hand and my forhead are now officially in contact. Coincidentally, I already had decided that I was going to spend a rare evening with a girlfriend of mine tonight, with which she extended the offer to crash on her couch, to avoid about 1.5 hours of driving, which is considerable and considerate, considering the fact that I have a mere 12 hours between getting off work Saturday evening and going back in Sunday morning. Passing along those intentions just ended up feeling like delivering a nice little slap in the face to my husband this morning.

Crap, I just laughed and may hencely blow my mood, after all. I read Comrade Kevin's comment on my last post. Hopefully, it will not spoil my mood o'angst so much I cannot complete my 'lil poem o'doom. Maybe this'll put me back in the mood...

Some Folks Have All The Luck!

Immutable mass, how deeply you sit,
Churning within; don’t let me forget
Regret, perhaps akin to remorse,
Cause undetermined as of yet, of course.

Sick feeling congealed, lump in my throat,
Spew forth repressed truths as antidote.
No thing do you offer, but this certain lament,
“None of it matters, so why even try (not to resent?)”

Fragile marriage nigh stuck sorely in place,
Your ways do I loathe, though now commonplace.
Eat away at my passion, misnomer, “chance to grow,”
But through your lies I do see and better I know.

Lest someone suggest ideas such as these,
”Lord, make me an instrument of thine peace,”
“’Tis better to give than receive some might say,”
I warn my compassion has near slipped away.

Tears I did stifle, at my own vapid expense;
Trust not, nor vulnerable be, my defense.
Cut me you have with hateful words softly stated,
My risking such wounds is long antiquated.


Der Santa...

... en te Nor Pol, Can yu giv 2 hem?

There is only one thing that can lift my spirits after Dennis dropped out, I am feeling a bit under the weather and sniffly, and my house is a wreck.

Sorry. Misery loves company they always say.


Multiple Stupidities in Multiple Spectra

¡Good Lordy, Almighty!
The other day I took my youngest son to the ophthalmologist (that word is a bitch to spell,) something I've been mildly attempting to do for years, but doctors have put me off until now. Ever since he was about two, learning his colors and talking, I have suspected that he is colorblind. Of course, this is not out of the blue for me as my brother, my uncle and my grandfather are (were) all colorblind (or color vision deficient, as it is now termed) themselves. My husband thought surely I was being a hypochondriach, despite seeing him fail the Ishihara Test we pulled up online, as he'll call many colors their "proper" name, often times after correcting himself and I am ever more impressed with his brilliance as I have suspected lately that he is detecting differences in shades as a compensatory technique. Well, he has indeed tested colorblind, in fact, profoundly so. I was happy that the Dr. suggested that I pull up some sort of chart and this site contains one much better, but these pictures are cut and paste-able and can give you an idea of how it is that a person with this condition might see the gay flag on the left as is depicted on the right.

I just read today in Wikipedia, the theory that there could be advantages to colorblindness. I have no idea if these assertions are true, but I will tell you that this son of mine has a very keen musical ear (as does my brother) and has an uncanny ability to recall patterns (and see them in the first place- as is one of the ideas brought up in the article.)

Anyway, I am learning about this and telling his teachers, though I have mentioned my suspicions to them and know with this in my family all my life that the impact is negligible, besides your sisters teasing you for your clothing choices. In fact, the main "drawback" the doctor informed me of is that he will never be able to be drafted into a combat position in the military. Halleluja! This almost undoes my guilt for purchasing the miniature Air Force jumpsuit at the thrift store a few weeks ago.

Bringing this full circle, I thought that I would share immense stupidity with you that I encountered that day. I'm not talking about the police car parked in the median with a now hiring sign in the windshield, as have others. I am referring to a conversation I overheard next to me in the Dr.'s office.

A girl sitting in her mother's lap said,
"I'm your baby."

"Yes, you are."

"And, you're my baby."

"No, I'm not." (Would it kill you to play along?)

"Where's my baby?"

"You don't know your baby yet."

"Mommy, I don't want to die!"

"Everybody dies. Why not? (or something morbidly to this effect.)

"Because I want to go to mass."- she whined.

"That's good."

I wished at that moment that I had spontaneous puking abilities.


Dude, Multiple Stupidities...

Dude, the traffic at this juncture is horrendous!

I sat there for hours before I finally just turned right. I drove down that road twenty years before I figured out how to turn around and get to college. Kids, do you want to be that old lady? What would Jesus do?

Or rather, WWJS?

(I saw some threatening language I didn't feel like reading, so I'll just do this.)


A 'Lil Series Called Multiple Stupidities

Hot Diggity Damn, Honey! One. Stop. Shopping.

Sometimes when one is dry on the blogging front due to overall mental dullness or overactive 3-D activities, life just hands you fodder. In one of those cheesy emails that's cc'd to everyone and his or her dog (that, perhaps, everyone and his or her dog has already seen,) I received some true gems which aptly depict our true human potential for stupidity on multiple levels and will share them with you on rainy days, which today does, indeed, happen to be.


I'll Tell You About A Little Secret Place

I know, I know, I have not been blogging much this week. School started back up and seeing as I am still a student in my advanced age, I also have a job... thankfully. How else would I ever have time to blog? I also know I have the perfect excuse for not posting with my recently sick children and yes, eventually, each of them and my husband came down with the fluish sort of thing that ravished our home this last week. It is yet to be seen whether I will succumb, but have not thus farly. I certainly hope I do not, because I hate to puke so much that I even gave up drinking five years ago and believe you me, that's saying something. Oh, well, I hated blacking out kinda too. I prefer to remember my debaucherous acts, so I do them soberly.

Anyhoo, I do have a little secret. I am not that much of a tease. A couple months ago I decided to start another blog as a place to post a bunch of junk sitting in my email account. By junk I mean writing and by writing I mean drivel, but every once in a while there might be something touching or humorous or arousing, so I have put it all over at what was a poetry and journal blog. I have, since its inception, decided the journal portion was too private for the web (which was why I kept it from you guys,) but decided to just set those entires to private and come out with it all already. I also added the few other things I have written, the most prolific of which are the lit 101s, which are, of course, not as good as I remember them to be.

Check it out if you are so inclined. I will add stuff there from time to time. A few items will be familiar as I have posted them here and I will link it over in the sidebar at the bottom in that "Freida on the Web" chink; it's A Noble Undoing (though it's really not all that noble or anything like that.) I have not blogrolled anyone over there and only blogrolled this site today, but may be doing a little of that, though I will not be "posting" so much as adding writing as I write it. Enjoy your weekend. Oh, and yeah, if you get a chance to watch Lady Chatterly, it's lovely. I'm trying to figure out if the lumberjack might go for our getting a gamekeeper. I really think we need one.


I'm Luvin' It!

Oh yea, school's back in session. Here in the math library I have 15 minutes to blog today if I am going to get that outdated last post updated. I have barely heard the news in days as I am just beginning to resurface from a stomach virus going around in my family after E. stayed up all night at a slumber party last weekend and came down with it shortly after coming home. ( I don't get them anymore, but for one hour when I feel like I'm going to die and then they pass. It's been like that for years now- a mother's immunity?) The drummer (my 5 year old) had the exciting new experience of puking in the school cafeteria Monday (doesn't everyone need one of those?) and the genius got to stay home yesterday in prevention of previously stated experience by saying his stomach hurt, but never really got sick. (He is, btw, the one to whom the title of this post is dedicated. I have formally forbidden him from singing, "I'm luvin' it!" Every once in a while he says, "Hey Mommy, I'm luvin' it." I act mad and secretly laugh at the idea of my forbidding three such seemingly innocuous words.) The cumulative effect of all this insanity? My in-laws are here helping out and I slept on a couch last night, my 2nd homework incomplete (already due?- 2nd day of class. Hello?!) Just a few minutes ago, my oldest, the wansta be lip model one, the "artist" (I am cultivating the names as has DCup for her fam,) called to inform me that she had a headache and a slight fever according to the nurse, but wants to stay at school. She was just reporting and I really should go pick her up, but I have a discussion section from 3-4 that was supposed to be Mondays and I had already arranged childcare for Mondays this semester when the teacher informed us, "We're so sorry, but the TA can't make that day. Can those of you in that section please come to another time?" No!! Ok, well the first one is today and that's where I have to go here in a sec, so this is a no time for blogging day, as Dr. Z likes to say. I got my iSplotchy hoodie in the mail and may be able to blog it since the fuckernet repair dude, who I know quite well by now, supposedly replaced our antenna so that we will not have just intermittent service from here on out, "Thank you for your patience." They have mistaken my civility for patience. Silly morons. The best choice before me? Hmmm... is this a fire alarm?


Kucinich Excluded From Another Debate. Make The Call!

I received this email today...

Chuck Todd, (email him at chuck.todd@nbcuni.com)
NBC's political Director, responded to an email from
Kayla Saville- Kucinich intern, who was expressing
outrage over the arbitrary exclusion of Kucinich from
the upcoming debates (remember- Kucincih met NBC's own
previously stated criteria) by saying:

"I understand your concern, but we are doing what is
best for the voter". - Chuck Todd, NBC POLITICAL

Can you believe the FUCKING BALLS on this pathetic
excuse for a journalist??????


In the next 24hrs, make as many phone calls- send as
many emails. Get your friends to do the same- FORWARD

EMAIL Chuck Todd 100 times, get you friends to do the same,
subject line - LET DENNIS DEBATE
Include my video if you wish:

- 50 thousand phone calls and 100 thousand emails in 3 days!

PHONE NBC- 212 664 4444
phone often.
email them @ letters@msnbc.com

PHONE the DNC: 202 863 8000

email them through their website



This is Just Too Much

Where do the democratic cancidates stand on the issue of gay marriage?


Equal Marriage: Voted twice against the Constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage (called the Federal Marriage Amendment, or FMA). If the amendment were enacted, it would have restricted marriage to a man and a woman. It may also have restricted civil unions and domestic partnerships. However, during her husband’s administration, she supported the Defense of Marriage Act, which prevented the federal government from recognizing same-sex marriage.

She seems to both oppose same-sex marriage and an amendment against it, which, in political circles, is considered a compromise position.

She is on record as supporting civil unions.


Equal Marriage: Does not support gay marriage. Supports civil unions with the same legal rights as marriage. Supports the federal recognition of civil unions, including modifying social security to give benefits to domestic partners and a revision of the tax code.


Marriage: Supports the repeal of DOMA and the federal recognition of same-sex civil unions, which, he says, should carry all the benefits of marriage, including expansion of Social Security benefits and the Family and Medical Leave Act. He told HRC, “Gay marriage is an issue I feel internal conflict about and I continue to struggle with it.”

Equal Marriage: Vocal proponent of same-sex marriage. Has said that there is no reason why it should be restricted to a man and a woman.


Marriage: Unequivocally supports same-sex marriage and opposes the Defense of Marriage Act. If marriage can’t pass the Congress, supports full domestic partnership/civil union benefits.

I stole all of the words above from http://www.365gay.com/


¡Oh Oh, I'm Goin' to Hell in a Hand Basket!

I know. I know. It's not such a major shock, but for those of you who may just think it's because of the deals with the devil or for my erotic fantasizin's of Hall and Oates and Rachel Weisz (a juxtaposition made in hell, if there ever was one,) but primarily because I don't believe in the gooey center of the earth, or hell, you might be wrong.

It could be because I am not the hard-core, pc unpc sex goddess I know you all take me to be (but I'm willing.) For one thing, I have an announcement. I have made an executive decision in my life. No, I'm not going back to eating meat yet, at least not after I saw this bumper sticker yesterday...

And, no, I am not getting a mullet, not even if this is true...

And yes, those are my husband's (the lumberjack's) man nips.

I am switching my major from Math with senior grades teaching certification to Math with middle grades teaching certification. That's teaching 5th-8th ya'll and for that, I am not nearly as hard core as I thought I was. The good thing is that I make the rules for what's right and wrong in my life and though I know you all offered your best sympathies and encouragements after the Teach from Hell last semester, I was not here conducting such ventures in public when I could have written the Teaches from Heaven posts in which I got off on games with graphing calculators and Hubnets and making up a mock scenario in which I fooled the whole class (actually fooled a few, really) into thinking I was considering purchasing land in England that contained a crop circle and I was going to base my entire decision (because I had to make a fast one and I had to teach the hour before I had to give my answer to a realtor and the bank) on what they determined was the cost estimate on the lavish improvements I wanted to make on the property, of course, including crop circle restorative efforts. I just dig the molding of the young mind into thinking math is fun at the cusp of algebra and have decided to go with teaching that. I started back to school undecided between which of the two age ranges I'd rather teach and later decided to go with high school because like to think myself an intellectual who'd prefer I got off on explaining Calculus rather than fractions, but, really, that's not true. The other thing that gets me by thinking about being in the realm of teaching is knowing, after having worked with kids and gardening quite a bit, is that I want to be a garden club sponsor and initiate sustainable gardening projects in math contexts (i.e., teach gardening without teaching Biology,) and see myself doing that more readily in a middle school setting, or possibly down the line in elementary, 5th, 6th grades. I like the fact I would have the choice between those two levels also. Oh, and I shall be taking Adolescent Development this semester coming up here in a few days. I asked if I could test out of it with two teen girls (2nd will be 13 on the 30th, and the 1st will be 15 next month,) but secretly I’m glad I have to take it. Maybe I’ll learn a thing or two. Ironically, those seeking senior grades certification do not have to take that class, but rather Spanish IV instead. I will have the knowledge of both and about 170 hours when I graduate. Ouch.

But, still this is not why I am going to hell. And, it is not even because after I saw his I ♥ Huckabee video, that later got removed from MySpace and from his own site thanks to YouTube and Viacom, sent out from the Stephen Colbert for President site on MySpace, I sent Stephen this message...

You are going to burn in hell for that one.

I'll see you there.

I got this reply...


First of all, chill out.

Second of all, there was a video interview that MySpace shut down before anyone could see it. Check out the website and you can watch the interview. Then rant to me about the evils of Huckabee.


I subsequently sent this message...

Oh, I think I watched the video.

You would probably like this site. This is the sort of hell of which I speak. But, really, please do not tempt me to vote for Huckabee by being on the ticket.

My support is for Hall and Oates '08. I can go for that! (Except my link messed up.)

-Freida Bee

That message has not been read yet, and I shall keep you posted.

Oh, no. All these plentiful reasons, though they are- yea, are not the reasons I am going to hell in a hand basket and neither is it the fact that my house is a wreck while I slept until oh-my-gosh 10 o'clock today. No, it is rather because when I went to the thrift store this week, where I scored that perfect t-shirt above, and was looking for more pants for my youngest, allowed my sons to select and then purchased these outfits...

Which I purchased for the feeble price of a promise from my youngest that he would never actually join the Air Force when he was older.

If I learn anything from Adolescent Development this semester it will likely be about reverse psychology and how I very well may have just sealed the deal of my going to the gooey core of the earth where the devil will be then able to say, "You got your Freida Bee in my goo. Mmmm, good." And, then I'll realize I should have started eating meat.


C'Mere Cupcake

Since, like Rachel Kramer Bussel, I am a fan o' the cupcake, when I clicked on the links over at Dr. Z's this morning, the results were too funny to walk away from, so a meme/ non-meme (the. best. kind. no. tagging.)

Let’s Make a Band:
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.

The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.

The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

You then take the pic and add your band name and the album title to it, then post your pic.

The Result?

Who would buy that?


Ennui on the Mountain

It seems the man is tryin' to hold down my main man or is the woman who hath succeeded?

I Can't Go For That, No Can Do

Since I may not be able to vote for Kucinich in the March Democratic Primary here in Texas, my mind is reeling. Obama? He is the sexiest and most charismatic (sorry Dennis) of all of the candidates by far, and ya'll may know by now that goes pretty far with me, but this fact has not swayed me from the issues up to now.

I know I shared a very lurid, I mean lucid, dream back in November in which Hall and Oats double-teamed me, trying to convince me to become their campaign manager in their 2008 Presidential bid. I really was scared at first and did not know what I would do. You know dreams are the realm of the sacred and all, but I still denied the calling... until this past week when another sign came my way and now I am so confused. I shall not forget that confusion is merely the state between a previous and new level of understanding and turn to the source of all answers... Hall and Oates lyrics...

Ennui On The Mountain
(Daryl Hall/John Oates)

We don't need a whole lot of money
We don't need a Cadillac car

What we need is a mountain in Montana
A thousand acre world for the roadies and the girls
But you need a whole lot of money
Lots of loot, to tell you the troot'
Oh, we know what's good but we love what's bad
And it'd be ennui on the mountain anyway
Oh I don't know if it's high or low
But it's round and round and round and round we go
I don't know what I need...
That is I did not until now.

Last week I discovered something in my statcounter. Quite a few (I mean seriosly, I had some days pass 50 visits ya'll) visitors were clicking on my previous Hall and Oates post and I could not figure out why. One of the few people I know in "real" life loves this post and informed me that, in search of that bumper sticker, he googled "Hall and Oates 2008, I Can Go For That" and my blog was the first entry to come up. If my blog accomplishes nothing else, ever again, I'll now know my work here is done, but that is not all. Oh no, that is not all. I was uber-thrilled to finally discover, within the magical statcounter, the source of this recent blog activity. A link to my post was put in a message in the Hall and Oates Fans Yahoo Group.

I could not have been more honored and had to see the message and there was only one way to do it. I had to go into disguise as a Hall and Oates Fan (or is it real?) and infiltrate this group and see for myself what all the talk was about. This is investigative journalism at its finest ya'll and here is what I uncovered...

The people posting comments to this blog know their H&O songs. I'm
impressed. Warning it's political for anyone that might get offended
as they tend to do on the main board.
That's you guys folks!

Well, what else can I do, but take this undeniable, recent chain of events to mean that the universe is trying to tell me something. Did I mention that Jesus called me on the phone as well? Well, he did, so I took the opportunity to ask him "What would you do, Jesus?" He told me he would do what we all shall do, look to... you guessed it... the lyrics...

Don't want to open your heart ..... you're afraid from the start,
That a new love's gonna get you down,
There was something you should know ..... before you give up and go,
I don't believe in a run-around.
I just wanted to find myself and show you how I feel.

If a promise ain't enough ..... then a touch says everything,
Gotta hold you in my arms ..... do you feel what I mean.
Know that my heart just tells me what to say,
But words can only prove so much,
If a promise ain't enough ..... hold on to my love.

Though my words can't describe how I'm feelin' all inside,
Does my touch say anything to you,
I'm not afraid to take time ..... 'cause I know you'll find,
That I'm real and my touch is true,
It's taken a lifetime to find my heart and I give it all to you.
When I found out Jesus would do that, I told him I would do anything that he wants me tooo do and he told me to succumb to H&O '08...

Of course this does not mean I cannot uphold my duties as poet laureate for the Zaius/ Gregarius campaign or that I won't still vote for Monkey, or Kucinich, or Obama, or some other studly space dude or a hunk of concrete, but it does raise one very intense question...

Who should be president and who should be vice president?

I am afraid that my judgment may be flawed in this matter. I think this may be a question that could only be answered by...the lyrics? No, I mean by Who's in Charge? Splotchy, have you already determined this, or do you think the guys could come do a special appearance? It’s not too late to change the bumper sticker and the t-shirts to "Oates and Hall '08."


One Way Or Another

I have been tagged by Randal to do a meme. I opened my big mouth about being grateful to not have been tagged and then he tagged me the next day. He said he didn't tag me on the first day 'cause I laid into him last time he tagged me, so this 'lil rant might buy me one freebie, but I'll stop complaining, unless I don't, because I can twist this one into something narcissistic with pictures of my little world and for that, I am always grateful.

The meme says,

Try to think of one way you and your family can lessen your environmental impact in 2008. You could consider doing something relatively easy--like giving up paper plates and napkins (yup, more dishes and laundry, but oh so worth it at trash-time)--or more difficult--like trying to carpool more (which can be a pain, but saves a ton in gas money, not to mention in saved emissions). It doesn't have to be hard--it could be something as simple as trying one of those new fluorescent bulbs in your desk lamp. How about it?
Well, I took some pics from around my house, and while we have some good things going on, there are definitely ways we can improve. We live about 15 minutes east of UT Austin, just outside of the ACL. We rent our house from an old friend of my husband's, so we cannot take credit for the groovy features of the house, which lies on five mostly unused acres, but there is a 50/50 chance we will buy this house we've lived in for a few years when I graduate and start teaching. We want to wait until we see where I get a job. I may take a job somewhere weird in trade for a student loan exoneration deal, but I really want to teach in Austin.

On the one hand our house has solar panels and that totally rocks,

(There are more on the back, but they lie flat on the roof and are harder to photograph.) seeing as we are a family of 6 half the time, a family of four the other half (since my older daughters go to their dad's house half the time.) (Since some might call me a breeder, I have a lot of environmental make-up to do for my contribution to over-population. The good news is, I piss my kids off enough that sometimes they say things like, "I'm never having kids.") Our electricity bill is usually 1/3-1/4 of what it was before when we lived in a far smaller house in town (with no solar panels.) It kinda looks like a trailer, but it's not. Some cool guy built it in the 80's.

It's pretty green.

This design is to allow for energy efficiency, what with the holes and shit.

And we have a water collection system.

We can water plants with the water if need be, which is rare, except for growing veggies, because, besides them, I, generally, only purposefully propogate Texas native plants which can withstand drought. In the side bar I have had a link to Howard Garrett's site. I used to work at an organic gardening center where I learned about 'ole Howie. He's all about the natives and well-adapted plants, but I particulalry like that he promotes and is informative about organic techniques, eliminating the need to use chemicals for fertilizers or for pest control, which is important down here in the land of the fire ant and with the increases in environmental toxins which are leading to who knows what health conditions for people and animals. I actually have a son who responds allergically to fire ants, but fortunately we have a native species of ant where we live, which has not succumbed to the invader species which is so prevalent here. The ones we have look the same, but do not bite. I have little doubt that if we killed them off, nuclear-style, we would leave the property far more vulnerable to a peskier infestation in the long run, so we are all about Howard Garrett at our house.

In front of the cistern is part of my future greenhouse, where I will find a way to cross a tomato with a pepper to make it hot (shhhh) and actually garden, which last summer I neglected to do seriously for the first time in 10 years. (Well, I was writing a lot.) And this is what happened.

Oops. I need to cut that shit back.

One of my favorite features of our house is our wood-burning stove.

Whether it is better for the environment or not, I am not so sure, but it's what we have and I really like it. My husband, being a part-time lumber jack, chops most of the wood himself from dead trees in the yard though last year was easier because he was doing carpentry work and he got tons of scrap to start fires with. At his former place of employment, they were throwing away half a dumster a day in scrap wood! That's just one place.

So, the question is... is all this better for the environment than if we lived in the city and did not have to drive this guzzler too much?

I park my car (mini-van)in the mornings off campus around Austin and then use public transport around town, but really I feel pretty guilty about gas consumption. Buses simply do no come out to where I live.

I buy organic foods as often as possible (read when we can afford it) and have recently gone back to being vegetarian as one of my daughters has been this last year and miracle of all miracles, Mr. Bacon even decided to do so after we were given three hams the week of Christmas (even while traveling.) My lame joke was, "What, do we have 'ham' written on our foreheads." Since 2nd and I were not eating it, there was far too much for the rest to eat and my husband even gave the last one, from my grandmother, to his parents, who gave us the first one to begin with. Oh, what a terrible web ham weaves.... Anyhoo, vegetarianism is good for the environment. If you have not read Diet For a New America, by John Robbins, it is essential that you do. It will at least encourage you to be mindful of the impacting effect our diets play on the environment.

I just bought a few of these reuseable bags

at the grocery store I most often frequent (and I had that cute little brown compact one) and shall buy a few more each time (Damn, I'm cheap. They only cost $.99. OK, next time I won't walk away with one disposeable bag.) We have been saving them and re-use them frequently, but, I tell ya, I won't miss the clutter that gets built up by it from time to time. (I should have pictured our overrun bag holder thing that is an old-timey potato storage bin.) The Whole Foods here, the largest in the world, just stopped providing their customers with disposable bags when they shop.

I have not featured our attractive (right)compost area or our overrun recycling carport scene as we have to take our recycling in to Ecology Action ourselves, but we do take it in (usually,) paper, glass, aluminum, plastic (with opening smaller than container is the rule,) tin. We donate all old reuseable clothing and purchase about 85% of our clothing at thrift stores (no underwear and I swear I kept my eye out for boots for about a year before I just went and bought some myself.) I even grab things (that we need- I've learned) from the curbside. I even got four very nice lamps curbside last month, but what's this?

I solemnly swear (there goes my New Year's rosolution not to make promises)that I will buy one new energy efficient bulb every time I go to the store for the next how many ever times it takes to convert all our bulbs to efficien ones. I have used them quite often, and know they are well worth their price in their longevity, but falter when they look expensive on the grocery aisle.

Also, just took it and only one,

though others could have been taken, to document that I am a little like that girl from Signs with the glasses of water. I just hope it doesn't end up that I have the same need. And, oops... damn, that toaster oven's nasty- I am the only one who cleans it and am on strike from it until it starts on fire when my husband uses it. I am wondering if he'll clean it then? Any bets? He won't. I will.) And those glasses of water remind me that I carry around a reuseable water bottle and coffee cup as often as I can remember, but get unorganized enough to forget or have one not be clean, so I will work on that next semester, the math building's lobby coffee shop is where I am I am most guilty of purchasing the unnecessary packaging and their delectable strawberry oat bars. I also have been into taking baths rather than showers lately and need to cut back on that. I just love it. Can not shaving my legs make up for that?

I used to have enough time that I would rinse ziplock bags and dry then on a little hemp string I strung over my sink and clip them with clothespins, but I don't have enough time on my hands for that and it does raise the question (damnit, I want answers) is preserving the resources re: the plastics better than saving the water it takes.? I tend to want to cut back on the stuff more, because of the impact chemically- not that we don't put shit on our water. Oh, we have a low water use toilet, that is too nasty to picture here (unless I want to make this an episode of Damn, That's Nasty,) but would rather have a composting toilet in the long-run. I do use a dishwasher and have not even (on 5 acres, a sin) been hanging clothes to dry, which I did exclusively for many years. In this next year, actually , in the next two months, I'll promise, I shall afix a clotheline in my yard and use it. Thanks for the meme, ya'll and because of how he responded in comments to Randal's post and because I am downright jealous of his cool hybrid vehicle, I tag fairlane.

Also, I firmly believe that Dennis Kucinich is the next best president to take us to our next necessary step energy policywise. Of course, I may not be able to vote for him after all, but will direct you to his interview on Bill Moyers' show that aired last night. Check it out.


Of Major Import, I Know...

...but, I did promise a pic o' the go-go's.

These boots are gonna walk all over something,

unless they don't.

This photo was taken in my daughters' dirtyish mirror with some pesky nature intruding. (I don't mean that nature, really.) My iSplotchy $hoodie is on order from Cafepress. I just waited until Christmas passed, returned a few things and got the boots on sale with the credit and bought the $hoodie for myself. I'll buy my iPod shuffle for myself for my birthday next month. I do thrift stores normally ya'll and oh, another blog opportunity, possibly, but the Damn That's Sexy shoe segment is canceled, 'cause it was too boring to take a picture of all of my lesbian, I mean comfortable, shoes. They are the only way to go, but these boots make me want to dominate something even though they are brown, maybe in a more earthy way. Someone, go get in the hammock and wait for your application of organic butter and hot beeswax. Aw shucks folks, I fucked around all day so much, I gotta go hurry make tofu stir fry, get together toys to give away so my sons' room is not too cluttered for the instrument set up and I love doing that and then off to do laundry 'cause our washing machine is broken. Wait a minute. This was the final episode of Damn That's Sexy, called Damn, That Was Almost Sexy! and Anti-Climatic, because now it's 32.78 hours later that the picture finally uploaded on my cuntry bumpkin fuckernet.


A Brave New Froodle: The World Needs a Lez(bot) Now More Than Ever!

As requested by Germaine Gregarious, a froodle for the girls of the LGPPP and Dr. Zaius, a froodle for the new year.

2008: A Perky Little Ditty

Another year wiser,
Isn’t that what they say
Just before they sell us creams
To make our wrinkles go away?

2007 was the bomb, The Year of Larry Craig,
The year some old fuckers (yea!)
Touched some other old fuckers
And then swore they were not gay.

Wait, that could be any year,
As could be any one in which,
We bow our heads in shame
And wonder how Bush ‘came prez’dent.

Of course, I would be remiss
Were I to not include some cheer,
But wouldn’t you really rather
I saved it for next year?

See, in 2008 Momma Spears’s parenting book
Will not see the light of day,
Though Lindsay’s mother hath assured
Hers is well on its merry way.

So, rest easy, easy reader;
All will be fine and dandy.
Just have your stores of water ready
And be weary of strange babies with candy.

Big promises shall be made
(Unless they aren’t; we shall see)
By imaginary candidates
Of Peace, Love and Underpantsery©.

Here at Freida Bee
We ("Who else is there?" I do ask.)
Are hunkering down for the good fight;
Bill O’Reilly shall put us to the task.

When The War on Christmas ends,
And he will soon declare it won,
We’ll find The War on Abstinence
Has only just begun.

Thankfully soon, lesbian Fembots (or is it feminine Lezbots?)
Will arrive to save our nation’s youth
From repressive, sexless lives by teaching
Talk of condoms is more than just uncouth.

Mental evolution has been set back
A few hundred years or so
By our even considering Huckabee,
The only remaining dodo.

Shall we weather this, The Year of the Rat, together?
Please hold me closely, dear;
For, after Bush is through,
There’s likely more, I fear.

With this perky send-off then,
Please, go; be on your way
And entertain me with your brilliant blogs
At least one more fucking day.
Peace, Love and Underpantsery©

I like New Year’s Resolutions because they are like ambitious to-do lists that, in lieu of doing them today, we vow to do every day for the next year in trade. I am all over that. My list is shaping up like this:

Clean my desk (and keep it clean and, uh, use it.)

Buy a new vibrator/ dildo-ish implement(s) and use it (them) more often and stop complaining that I want more sex (except here, of course.)

Ok, I'll Bite. Don't Run. Pick A Slogan.

Saw it at Mathman's who saw it at Monkey's who saw it at Becca's. I just did it and thought they were pretty funny and had to have one for my blog.

Which is your favorite?

Next to the Breast, Freida's the Best.

There's More Than One Way To Eat A Freida.

I Wish I Were a Freida Bee Weiner.

Bet You Can't Eat Just One Freida Bee.

Strong Enough for a Man, Made for a Freida Bee.

A Freida Bee's Too Wet Without One.

The Curiously Strong Freida Bee.

The Best Part of Waking Up is Freida Bee in Your Cup.

This one I want to remove, but can't. It's so wrong...

It Takes A Tough Man To Make A Tender Freida Bee.

Tense, Nervous, Freida Bee?

Don't Get Mad, Get Freida Bee.

I Think, Therefore I'm Freida Bee.

Freida Bee. It's What's For Dinner.

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