10.31.2005
Hey, SBC! I've got a present for you!
I Should Be Writing about My Wonderful Halloween. But SBC Ruined It.
Okay, that's an exaggeration. But they did impact my ability to blog about it. I have been without service since Thursday.
On Friday, SBC sent
Senor Ding Dong to fix my connection.
While he was certainly charming and handsome ("I give you my word as a Spaniard, your DSL will be working this time tomorrow"... he didn't say that. Well, he did promise my DSL would be working in 24 hours) he couldn't get his satanic employers to help me.
Instead, I spent three more days with sporadic DSL service. The only reason it's working now is DILF ordered a business DSL upgrade (did I tell you he got a new job? He'll be working from home after this week. You'll have to ask him for details ... blah blah blah "Integration" blah blah "Workflow solutions" blah blah). SBC claims it is unable to install it; they will soon be feeling the wrath of DILF. Anyway, they switched our service back to its previous level and the problem cleared up. After I spent my Halloween waiting for an SBC representative who never showed up.
SBC, you are
Syphallitic
Bunch of
Cocksuckers. I am sending Todd to hit your smug monopolistic faces in with a shovel.
10.30.2005
My Muse is Missing
I'm not in the mood to write, but I do want to post because I'm bored.
So, I Googled "world's ugliest."
The very first picture was this:
I don't understand; while certainly an odd outfit, I wouldn't call it
ugly.
This entry, however, also found on the first page, I understand:
Before you ask, I'll tell you. It's a dog. The World's Ugliest Dog, to be exact.
See you tomorrow, hopefully with more to say. Smoochies!
10.29.2005
A Halloween Salute to Strong, Courageous Cowboy Nick
It was Halloween, and Cowboy Nick
Did bravely ride, though it made him sick
Into a place that he feared most...
Not to a graveyard; he feared no ghost
Nor a place where vampires lurk
Or a lab where madmen do their work
'Twas no place he could be bit
Or tortured senseless, starved or hit
It was a place of tall permed hair
With primness and smugness everywhere
The smiles and sweater vests can't disguise
The cold hard evil in their eyes.
Their wombs spawn evil so severe
They nurture hatred, greed and fear
Yet Nick had nerves of steel to go
To the coven bearing this logo:
Thank you for your patience.
I have been dealing with SBC the past few days, sorting out my DSL outage problems.
Apparently, their outside lines were deficient for some reason, and what should have been a glorious gush of information flowing into my home had slowed to a mere trickle, then a drip. I was unable to access the internet as a result.
Eventually, they ever so kindly fixed the problem, and proudly and generously announced that I would not be charged for the service call.
But of course I do pay for the service; it's called my monthly fucking bill.
That I pay every month.
That they send me threatening e-mails about every month, five days before the bill is actually due, reminding me that they could shut off my service and/or send my information to the credit reporting agencies if I don't pay, even though I'm currently paid up. A month in advance, which is how they work it. So, in essence, they are calling to make sure I pay
for future services I haven't even received yet.I hate them. But it's a free market, right? I can change carriers, right?
Right.
Anyway, thank you all for staying with me through this trying time, and thank you, Dilf, for posting for me in my absence. Consider this my response to each and every comment from the past few days: You guys are the best; you're hilarious; I love you; I missed you.
Smoochies.
10.28.2005
I can only hope this doesn't lead to a resurgence of Star Trek fan generated erotica.
DILF
10.27.2005
I'm Back -- With Back! It's a Rumpkin!
Thank you,
Bridget, for the photo.
As mysteriously as my modem connection stopped working, it began working. I have no idea how to cancel the service call tomorrow as Dilf placed the call. He'll have to do that tomorrow morning, as he is out getting a free dinner from his employer at the moment.
I love you all...
Currently experiencing technical difficulties
And with the speed of SBC's customer service it may be a while.
Dilf
10.26.2005
I Live in the Most Exclusive Neighborhood in the United States
Right now, as I write this, the UberGirls are with a huge group of neighborhood kids jumping in a massive pile of communal leaves and having a great time.
They will come inside for dinner smelling of the great outdoors, with rosy cheeks, hungry tummies and exhilirated spirits.
Nobody is richer than I am right now.
Suck it, Cheney! No matter how much money you steal, you'll still be an unhappy rat bastard who doesn't know the joy of a leaf pile!
Now I feel sorry for Dick Cheney.
Halloween Costume Contest
We've all had costume losers show up to a party. The intellectual friend who tapes an ampersand to his chest and says he's coming as his favorite character in a book. The former frat buddy in the orange t-shirt that says, "This
IS my costume." Anbody dressed as a body part or material excreted from a body part.
All of the following costumes earned a "Worst Halloween Costume" prize at a Halloween party. Let's give them a second chance. Who's not all
that bad?
Contestant 1:
Contestant 2:
Contestant 3:
Contestant 4:
Please vote here:
Time to Clean the UberHouse!
I will be largely absent today. Our homestead needs maintenance.
Carry on without me... Nick, say something stupid so everyone else can make fun of you. Thanks, pal!
10.25.2005
My Little Baby Chick Needs Help
Maura brought her homework home. She's working on "M's" which is fairly significant, considering her name starts with that letter.
Her nonconformist roots are already causing problems.
"You need to write your name, here," I gently tell her, pointing to the two solid lines with the dotted one in the middle.
"I did," she answered; this was true. She did write her name. But not to
the proper specifications. Her "M" was somewhat rounded, and stopped short of the top line. Her "a" needed work; the line was on the wrong side of the circle. Her "u" was fine, at least as far as I could tell; her "r" was not, because she "likes to put an antenna on it." But, nevertheless, it said "Maura."
"You need to write it the way the teacher tells you," I said.
"Why?" she asked. I had no answer. I don't agree with the current method of teaching in the Chicago suburbs -- that is, instead of starting with a grasp of the concepts and then working on the finer, more precise methods of production, they must begin with regimentation.
I don't like this approach. People like me, my daughter, my husband, and my neon green styrofoam fedora-wearing father don't learn this way. I know what Maura's thinking: if you can read my name, then the information is getting across, and the purpose of writing is to convey information. Ergo, where's the problem? And if a rounded "M" is legible, why must she reproduce precise angles? Is an "M" not an "M?"
This is only going to get worse. She's only finishing up her second month of
kindergarten. Wait until she gets to math.
Just Say No
At dinner last night, UberElder told us they were turning their backs on shrugs this week at school.
Thinking this was an attempt to discourage rudeness and encourage direct communication, Dilf and I politely listened. "Oh, yes?" we said.
"Yes," she said. "We're supposed to wear red for "Say No to Shrugs Week."
Recalling a memo I had scavenged from her backpack earlier last week, I said, "No honey. That's "Say No to DRUGS." (Dilf thought this was hilarious.)
"Oh," she said, confused. A kindergartner understands what shrugs are; she has no clue what is meant by drugs. But if she refuses to take her cough medicine because of this, I will be pissed.
Bush Douchebag of the Week...er, Decade... er, EVER...Halloween Edition
Boo!
Karl Rove is watching you!
Don't look him in the eyes! That's how he captures your soul!
A Banner Week for Me
In addition to my coronation as Queen of the Yodellers, I have also been promoted. Fictionally. But I'll take it.
Thanks to Nick, I am now
Captain of the Beefheart in the Blogadoon saga.
I will take my new responsibility seriously and start reading more science fiction, as up until now I've been coasting.
10.24.2005
This is NOT funny. It was a seriously bad storm. Stop Giggling. Sigh.
B.A. and the Queen of the Harpies saw this news brief while honeymooning:
Typhoon Longwang.
Of course, they took a picture of their TV set:
Excellent field reporting. Now that's dedication; preserving a blog-worthy memory while honeymooning. He's a professional, folks.
10.23.2005
I Have a New Title. And a Prize. A Coronation, of Sorts.
Tonight, my family and I went to
a local German establishment for Oktoberfest. Not only were my immediate Ubers in attendance, but my parents, my sisters and their families were there as well.
An oompah band performed. My parents danced, for the first time since my dad's cancer surgery. Dilf danced with both me and the UberGirlies. It was great fun.
Oh, and I won a yodeling contest.
In fact, I was named "Queen of the Yodelers." My sister tried to tell the bandleader her name was Brumhilde to boost her chances of winning, but in the end talent won out.
I won 6 beer glasses, and a free beer. Dilf was so proud.
I'll show you a picture of my prize tomorrow. Right now I'm flushed with success.
10.22.2005
Where's Cowboy Nick This Week?
Tarnation! Doesn't that buckaroo have saddle sores
YET? Hoo hoo DILLY does that fella ever sleep?
He sends this hint to help you guess:
"In addition to its original and more famous purpose, this house also appeared in the December 6, 1996 episode of Sliders on the Fox Network. They repaired androids in the home. There was one shot of the front with most of the action filmed on the porch."It could be kinda creepy and kooky... but then again, it could not. Groovy, ghoulies!
10.21.2005
UberFamily's Next Vacation Destination: The Potted Meat Museum.
Oh,
B.A. You give me such precious gifts of knowledge. Thank you.
The Potted Meat Museum. Have you ever seen anything so wonderful in your lives? I am beside myself in joy.
Oooh, Turn It Up... I LOVE This Song!
IPod technology may soon be available in
breast implants.
"...one breast could hold an MP3 player, the other the person's favourite music collection.
BT Laboratories' analyst Ian Pearson said flexible plastic electronics would sit inside the breast. A signal would be relayed to headphones, while the device would be controlled by Bluetooth using a panel on the wrist."Oh, and...
"'It is now very hard for me to thing of breast implants as just decorative. If a woman has something implanted permanently, it might as well do something useful,' The Sun quoted Ian Pearson as saying."Oh, goodie! Now I can be an appliance, too! Something more for my daughters to strive toward.
Cringe-Inducing Mom Music
I watched "Serial Mom" last night. I love that movie. I love when she flips her Barry Manilow cassette in the car stereo while the police are chasing her, and sings along to "Daybreak."
Manilow represents what I will call "Mom Music," although I myself don't listen to it. It's the music that Moms sing along with as they clean the house, and what embarrasses their children while carpooling.
The 70's had more than its fair share, Manilow leading the pack. But remember, the 80's produced Rick Astley, a post-Commodores Lionel Ritchie, Richard Marx and the "Dirty Dancing" Soundtrack album.
The 90's gave us Michael Bolton and Celine Dion, and Celine haunts us to this very day. And let's not forget decade-spanning horrors like Phil Collins, Elton John without Bernie Taupin and Whitney Houston.
I take after my father. He listened to embarrassing music, but at least it was bizarre and eclectic. When my friends heard it, they'd say, "What the hell is that?" instead of, "Your mom listens to
Barry Manilow?"
I can't help but embarrass my kids. But at least I'll be unconventional.
10.20.2005
Attention, DILF:
You are a wonderful father and want the best for your daughters, but UberGirlies do not like these:
In fact, everytime I open a can, their anguished voices cry out, "There aren't any balls in there, are there?"
No more soy balls, please. Thank you.
More Witch Tales...
Did you ever hear
this superstition? If you chant "Bloody Mary" or "Mary Worth" or any of a number of variations in a darkened bathroom, you will see her in the mirror? Or she'll scratch you and/or kill you?
According to
this website, the story has its origins in my own home state of Illinois.
Apparently, a very evil lady named Mary Worth used to perform satanic rituals on runaway slaves in the 19th century. She was executed, but when her corpse was disturbed later by farmers and real estate developers, her malevolent spirit escaped and haunts us all!
If you believe that kind of thing.
Bad Music Thursday: Stupid Woman Re-Writes One Night Stand Into Romance
Ode to stupid women everywhere, who pretend they weren't used as a slightly better alternative than masturbation:
Touch Me In The Morning
Diana Ross
[Written by Ron Miller and Michael Masser)Touch me in the morning
Then just walk away
We don't have tomorrow
But we had yesterday
Hey, wasn't it me who said
That nothin' good's gonna last forever
And wasn't it me who said
Let's just be glad for the time together
Must've been hard to tell me
That you've given all you had to give
I can understand your feelin' that way
Ev'rybody's got their life to live
Well, I can say goodbye
In the cold morning light
But I can't watch love die
In the warmth of the night
If I've got to be strong
don't you know I need to have tonight
When you're gone, till you go
I need to lie here and
Think about the last time
You'll touch me in the morning
Then just close the door
Leave me as you found me
Empty like before
Hey, wasn't it yesterday
We used to laugh at the wind behind us
Didn't we run away and hope
That time wouldn't try to find us
Didn't we take each other
To a place where no one's ever been
Yeah I realy need you near me tonight
'Cause you'll never take me there again
Let me watch you go with the sun in my eyes
We've seen how love can grow
Now we'll see how it dies
If I've got to be strong
Don't you know I need to have tonight
When you're gone, till you go
I need to hold you until the tie
Your hands reach out and
Touch me in the morning
Then just walk away
We don't have tomorrow
But we had yesterday
We're blue and gold
and we could feel one another living
We walked with a dream to hold
And we could take what the world was giving
There's no tomorrow here
There's only love and the time to chase it
Yesterday's gone my love
There's only now and it's time to face it
Politically Incorrect...Mean Spirited...Wrong...But, Oh, So FUN!!!
In the deep recesses of my early memory, I remember my town holding annual Halloween Witch Burnings.
My family recently brought it up. Our relatives and family friends would bring their kids to our little town to celebrate this evil, yet woderfully fun, event.
While my little town has no web history of the event, our neighboring town of Lisle
does have a historical record of the Halloween fun.
We shared a fire department with Lisle, our parish was an offshoot of Lisle's, our town was in Lisle Township, and they showed us how to party as well.
Hey, if the Brits can celebrate burning Catholics every year at this time, I guess we weren't so bad. We'd never get away with something like this now, though.
10.19.2005
Disgusting Candy, Just in Time for Halloween
I was going to piggyback on my friend Mike A.'s blog entry about idiot racists masquerading as scientists. But I decided against it; why should I pay any more attention to them? Racism infuriates me because it's just so
STUPID and unfounded and easily disproved.
So I decided to present you with Toilet Candy, which comes with an edible plunger. Bon appetit!
What Was the Photographer Thinking?
I was researching long-lost fashion trends, like stirrup pants, which used to be everywhere but then vanished without a trace. Surely, one of them must be due for a revival, and I was going to have you vote on which one you thought would return first.
In the course of my exhaustive research, I found
this men's dancewear site with these compelling photos:
Sexy!
10.18.2005
Getting Guns for Christmas
Don't worry; I still love Halloween. I also love Thanksgiving, which comes in November. But since I'm starting to get my Christmas catalogs, and Christmas is a mom's biggest production effort of the year, Christmas is already on my mind. Specifically, dysfunctional Christmas tales.
A friend of mine, with whom I have since lost touch, had a very sick and twisted father. His parents were divorced, and dad lived in a little apartment littered with porn and guns. Some loaded. And the porn was not so much scattered about, but stored alphabetically in wall to wall shelving. He was quite disturbing.
One Christmas, dear old dad gave both of his sons illegal UZI's. They went out to a field and shot up pumpkins all day. Ah, the memories.
The next year, he forgot about Christmas; when his sons showed up to visit, he wrote them each a check, grabbed a couple of porn films off his shelf, put the items in brown paper grocery sacks, rolled up the tops, and growled, "Here. Merry Christmas."
Too bad Norman Rockwell never lived to see it.
Crap I Don't Need, but Dammit I Want
I have no right to sniff self-righteously at anyone's conspicuous consumption. My
Betty Crocker catalog came today -- the Christmas edition.
I have no business buying anything new for Christmas. I'm not hosting the party this year, and I'm already well-stocked even if I were.
But these are new!
And the catalog says I should be the
FIRST to make 3-dimensional Christmas cookies! I can't disobey the
catalog, can I? Plus, it says my kids will love them. What kind of mother would I be to deny my children joy?
Further, it says I can use these cookies for place holders, ornaments and more!
AND MORE! That settles it. I must have them. C'mon, people -- the reindeer
actually stands up! On his own little legs! Althoug, the snowman looks a little perverted...
10.17.2005
My Anger Has Subsided. Now, Back to Grossing You Out
This, folks, is a cake.
I went to this benign-sounding website called
Family Corner.com for some fun Halloween tips and recipes.
I found Kitty Litter Cake. And Boogers on a Stick. Hairball Salad with Saliva Dressing. And Simple Pimples, a recipe that recommends that you "Give each pimple a gentle squeeze and arrange on a platter."
For those of you interested in making Kitty Litter Cake, here's the recipe:
1 spice or German chocolate cake mix
1 white cake mix
1 large pkg vanilla instant pudding mix
1 pkg vanilla sandwich cookies
Green food coloring
12 small Tootsie Rolls
1 new (and definitely unused) kitty litter pan
1 new plastic kitty litter pan liner
1 new Pooper ScooperPrepare cake mixes and bake according to directions (any size pans). Prepare pudding mix and chill until ready to assemble. Crumble white sandwich cookies in small batches in food processor, scraping often. Set aside all but about 1/4 cup. To the 1/4 cup cookie crumbs, add a few drops green food coloring and mix using 5. When cakes are cooled to room temperature, crumble into a large bowl. Toss with half the remaining white cookie crumbs and the chilled pudding. (Mix in just enough of the pudding to moisten it. You don't want it soggy. Combine gently).
Line new, clean kitty litter box. Put mixture into litter box. Put three unwrapped Tootsie rolls in a microwave safe dish and heat until soft and pliable. Shape ends so they are no longer blunt, curving slightly. Repeat with 3 more Tootsie rolls and bury in mixture. Sprinkle the other half of cookie crumbs over top.
Scatter the green cookie crumbs lightly over the top. (This is supposed to look like the chlorophyll in kitty litter.) Heat 3 Tootsie Rolls in the microwave until almost melted. Scrape them on top of the cake; sprinkle with cookie crumbs. Spread remaining Tootsie Rolls over the top; take one and heat until pliable, hang it over the side of the kitty litter box, sprinkling it lightly with cookie crumbs. Place the box on a newspaper and sprinkle a few of the cookie crumbs around.
Ubermilf's Shopping List: Pitchfork, Torch (large), Flammable Effigies, Barrel of Tar (large), Sack of Feathers (extra large)
From
Sojourners, a progressive Christian site:
"Just weeks after Hurricane Katrina exposed the crisis of poverty in America, Congress will debate as early as Wednesday how much money should be cut from the budgets of health care, nutrition assistance, and other vital services for poor and working families. That's right, they will cut funds - and the question is by how much. Perhaps equally astonishing, they will decide how much - up to $70 billion - they will cut taxes for the richest people in America. In Washington, this may be business as usual, but as people of faith, we believe that budgets are moral documents, and so far this budget is morally bankrupt.
Many in Congress claim that Hurricane Katrina has driven congressional spending and budgets out of control, and that sweeping cuts to vital social services are justified because of these increases. This claim couldn't be further from the truth.
Fiction : Government spending is dangerously high.
Fact: Even with new Katrina funds, federal spending as a percentage of the economy is below the 30-year average. Arguments like these are driven by an ideological determination to shrink government, not reality.
Fiction : Deficits are spinning out of control because of reckless spending and new Katrina relief.
Fact : The root of the problem of skyrocketing deficits is new tax cuts for the very wealthy, not new spending. For the past three years, tax revenues as a percentage of the economy are at a 30-year low. Nevertheless, many in Congress will stop at nothing to enact new tax breaks for the wealthiest Americans. Between now and 2010, the cost of the Bush tax cuts (if extended) will total $1.7 trillion. Katrina relief - even when you amount interest costs, is projected at $240 billion - less than 15% of what the tax cuts will cost. And yet there is momentum behind a plan this year to add an additional $70 billion in new tax cuts - mostly for the very wealthy. Simply put, this plan is out of touch with our values."We know from United States governmental statistics that
gross domestic product and corporate profits continue to rise.We know from the United States Census Bureau that
rich people are getting disporportionately richer, leading to a sizable income disparity.
Meanwhile, non-discretionary costs for the poor, working and middle classes are skyrocketing -- health care, utilities, food, not to mention gasoline -- without a corresponding rise in salaries. Oh, and public transportation budgets are getting cut as well, resulting in higher fares and service cuts, often to the poorest neighborhoods. So, good luck getting to work.
Does this sound like the recipe for success?
10.16.2005
Does Anyone Besides Me Remember Baby Huey?
He was this big huge duck who, despite his size and age, walked around like a baby. Needless to say, he had an overprotective mother.
I fear that's what to become of many of our nation's children; in fact, it already has in a lot of cases.
Something has always not sat well with me about this whole "parental involvement" trend in education. Every two weeks or so, parents are being called to a "curriculum night" or "ABC Adventure Night" or "Just show your face to prove you're not a deadbeat parent night."
It's not the time commitment that bothers me (yet); we don't overschedule ourselves with tons of activities (yet.) I don't even need to get into a car. I can walk there. It's something less tangible...
Today, I thought of it. To me, school should be a place where a child has his or her own identity outside of the family. With their moms or dads there every second, walking them to and from school (if not driving them!), hovering over them, and now showing up in the evening all the time -- to me, it's not giving kids the space they need to develop separately.
I let UberElder walk home with Uberfriend Claire and her older brother every day. Recently, she's been walking to school with her friend Lalaina (sp? her family's Croatian or Serbian or something) and her grandfather. If it wasn't for the pedophiles and the people who make all that damn money from pedophiles, I wouldn't be concerned at all about letting her walk to school.
I don't know, to me raising a child should be like when you're teaching them to ride a bike. Yes, you should be there in case he or she falls. Yes, you should be there to teach and guide. But if you never let go of the bike, the kid will never learn to ride.
I haven't studied this issue; it's just my gut reaction. Feel free to tell me why I'm wrong.
Why Am I Joining an Angry Mob? I'll Tell You.
The children are gone. My children. My neighbors’ children. The whole town’s children. Why? Because I have the worst government on the face of the Earth.
First, Gregor Boob, our illustrious mayor, talks us into getting into a fight with a tribe in Asia, claiming they have some sort of weapon that could wipe us all out.
It turns out he was right – but it wasn’t the weapon he was talking about. No, it wasn’t a new trebuchet or catapult of boiling oil or anything – it was the Plague. Thanks a lot, moron!
It turns out he was just trying to get a piece of the lucrative spice trade in India, plus get us taxpayers to pay Deputy Mayor Chinflea and his friends to rebuild the place they destroyed in the first place.
I’m already taking washing in twice a week while my husband busts his backside to both work the farm and build some furniture on the side for a little extra income. Now I’m supposed to hand it over to these bastards?
Then, when it turns out the rats are carrying the plague and spreading it everywhere, Mayor Boob and his pack of idiots eventually decide to do something about the rat problem. After a few thousand commoners die, mind you.
They hire this guy named Piper to rid the town of rats, and, unlike Chinflea’s band of robbers, he actually does the job. Then, get this, they try to
stiff the guy. That’s right; the one competent governmental hire they ever made gets cheated out of his paycheck.
So the guy gets pissed. I mean, who could blame him? So he threatens to take our kids unless he gets paid. I don’t think he really meant to do it, he just didn’t know what level of cold-hearted lowlifes he was dealing with; he thought the threat would be enough to get his money out of those lying, cheating ass clowns.
Well, he should’ve asked me. I would’ve told him they wouldn’t care about human life.
But I do. I do.
Sorry, I teared up there a little. Yeah, a lot of my neighbors are mad at the Pied Piper, but I'm not. I'm putting the blame right square where it belongs -- on Mayor Boob and his incompetent town council. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a torch to set on fire and a pitchfork to sharpen. Have a good evening.
(This was my
FFF number 12)
OK, We All Know Where Cowboy Nick Is.
I just felt like indulging myself with some Halloween fun this week.
10.15.2005
The Night I Lost My Innocence
I thought I wrote about this before, but I searched through my archives and I couldn't find it. No matter. I will tell you about the night that disillusionment touched my tender soul, the night that my sweet, trusting nature was replaced by bitter cynicism, the night I learned the meaning of treachery. It was the night I ate my first frozen dinner.I didn't think I'd see his lying face again, but lo and behold, I found him on a retro food website.
I remember it as if it were yesterday...
The year was 1972 (or so.) I was 3 (or so) and my brother was 7 (or so.) For months, the pirate had promised us deliciousness galore could be found beneath his foil wrapping; I don't recall what it was exactly, but I know chocolate pudding was involved somehow.
We begged our mother, pleaded with her to let this frozen tray of delights into the house. But her heart was as cold as the frozen dinners themselves.
Then, one night, my parents were going out for the night. My mother relented and brought the bounty home for us, since they were eating out in a restaurant.
Into the oven they went (those were the days before microwaves) and we waited breathlessly for the feast to be done.
Finally, the cover was lifted, releasing the steam of childhood fantasy. We were in awe that finally, culinary joy would be ours.
Then we took a bite.
Lying, thieving, deceiver! It was the foulest pile of putrid utility-grade "food" ever approved by the FDA (if in fact it WAS approved.) Even the chocolate pudding was a rubbery disaster.
I have never truly trusted again.
Bush Administration Douchebag of the Week: Scott McClellan
Here is an actual exchange between Scott McClellan and a reporter earlier this week (courtesy of
Editor and Publisher):
Q: Scott, I just have two quick follows to some questions that were asked earlier. One, are you trying -- are you saying that, CIA leak aside, you can't say that the President has full confidence in Karl Rove?
MR. McCLELLAN: Maybe you didn't hear what I was saying earlier. I said, what I said previously still stands.
Q: What did you say previously? You say that all the time.
MR. McCLELLAN: You can go back and look at it. I'll be glad to share the transcript of when that question came up last time.
Q: Either he does or he does not. So he does have full confidence?
MR. McCLELLAN: We've already addressed that, Jim.
Q: Why can't you repeat it?
Q: But why can't -- if you've addressed it, why can't you repeat it for me? Clearly --
MR. McCLELLAN: Why do you have to keep asking a question that I've already answered when --
Q: Because I don't know the answer.
MR. McCLELLAN: No, because you're asking in the context of an ongoing investigation. And it's very easy to go and look at our transcripts and pull that information --
Q: That's why I said -- that's why I said, "set the leak aside," just in general are you refusing to --
MR. McCLELLAN: Yes. And I said I stand by what I said previously.
Q: Okay, topic two, since you won't answer that question.
MR. McCLELLAN: I did answer that question.
Worst Halloween Costume. Ever.
End of discussion.
10.14.2005
Calzone, You've Really Done it This Time!
Are you aware, sir, that your indiscretions have resulted in thousands of annoying offspring?
They, like you,
have their own website.
Do you realize what you've done? Look at them. They're hideous! A plague to all nations! I hope you're going to take responsibility for this mess.
Isn't He Just the CUTEST Little Thing?
I just love
him. I could hug him and squeeze him all day long!
I would love to put him in a little-bitty chair, the kind they use to display those pretty china dolls, and sit him next to my fireplace in the family room.
I would buy adorable outfits for him to wear, and change them for every season. Santa's Little Helper Elf at Christmas, Cupid on Valentine's Day, A St. Patrick's Day leperchaun, a fuzzy Easter Bunny -- Baby New Year! Wouldn't he just be darling in a diaper and a top hat!
The possiblities are endless. He's just the sweetest little thing, EVER!
Picture Meme
My assignment, from Todd at Viva Las VegAss:
Google Image your favorite drink and see what pictures you can find.First, I googled champagne. I found many product shots, many wedding pictures, maps of France's Champagne region, and an outrageously fake-boobied porn actress named Champagne.
After last night, I decided to Google Nyquil, and I came up with this:
Given my woozy state of mind, I find it more fitting.
The Cure is Worse than the Disease
I took Nyquil LiquiCaps last night.
I didn't even make it through E.R.
I woke up groggy.
I drank gallons of coffee.
I'm still groggy.
I've got a Nyquil hangover.
I believe it has dulled the wicked edge of my wit, so if you're ever to attack me without fear of retribution, today's the day.
10.13.2005
Who Wants Cupcakes? YOU Want Cupcakes!
Ubergirlies, Uberfriend Claire and I baked and decorated cupcakes today.
Aren't they lovely? I also tricked out my sideboard for Halloween; you can kinda see it in the background. Oh, yeah, and Halloween placemats, too. Did I mention I like Halloween?
Ubergirls' Current Must-Read
I Tell You Things You Never Want to Hear
I know you've never wondered what a Vulvan penis looks like, but I will tell you anyway.
Now, you can read it yourself by clicking
here, but I must warn you it is unpleasant and creepy.
Or, you can trust my description: It's like a
Chinese yo-yo; you know, the novelty paper ones that telescope out and back with a flick of your wrist? Yeah, apparently it's like that. Just so you know.
What Happens When I'm Not Looking...
UberGirl Younger stripped off all of her clothing, drew glasses on herself with markers and was waving pom poms around.
I like how she matched the color of her "glasses" to her ponytail holders. Very artistic.
Bad Music Thursday
Today’s Bad Music Thursday features a band called Blackhawk, and their 1976 hit song “Lonely Boy.” The Lyrics were written by Andrew Gold, who also wrote the Golden Girls theme song (“Thank You for Being a Friend) and Celine Dion & The Chipmunks "French Xmas Carol.” Could that be the
real reason the French are angry with us? Here it is, in all its glory…
Lonely Boy
He was born on a summer day, 1951
And with the slap of a hand
He had landed as an only son
His mother and father said "what a lovely boy"
We'll teach him what we learned
Ah yes, just what we learned
We'll dress him up warmly and
We'll send him to school
It'll teach him how to fight
To be nobody's fool
Oh, oh, what a lonely boy
Oh, what a lonely boy
Oh, what a lonely boy
(Yes, I can see where having loving parents who want the best for you can be something to complain about. Please, continue your sad story)In the summer of '53 his mother
Brought him a sister
But she told him "we must attend to her needs"
"She's so much younger than you"
Well, he ran down the hall and he cried
Oh, how could his parents have lied
When they said he was an only son
He thought he was the only one
Oh, oh, what a lonely boy
Oh, what a lonely boy
Oh, what a lonely boy
(THIS is his big fucking problem in life? That he wasn’t the center of the universe anymore? Oh, good God. Poor baby. Please, continue. Oh, I insist.)[Instrumental Interlude]
(Obviously, the best part of the song, because he’s not whining. Yet.)He left home on a winter day, 1969
And he hoped to find all the love
He had lost in that earlier time
Well, his sister grew up
And she married a man
He gave her a son
Ah yes, a lovely son
They dressed him up warmly
They sent him to school
It taught him how to fight
To be nobody's fool
Oh, oh, what a lonely boy
Oh, what a lonely boy
Oh, what a lonely boy
(Oh, NO!!! Please tell us this horrible cycle isn’t going to continue! Please…I can’t take it! Too sad…)
Half-Naked Thursday
10.12.2005
Another Ubermilf Declaration of Independence
I am angered and disgusted at the state of my downstairs family room and the adjoining toy room. The girlies are maniacs who have no concept of order.
I have a very clear concept of order. I am greatly disturbed.
But it's not just the toys. It's not just that Christmas is coming (Ack Ack ACK ack -- sorry, I gagged a bit) with its onslaught of crap, crap and MORE crap.
It's hearing this from my mother: "Do you still have the Charlie Brown Great Pumpkin characters? You don't see them anymore. Don't throw those out."
Really, mom? Because all of their hands fell off. None of them have hands. I think Linus has one, and that's because nobody cared for him very much. I'm throwing the damn things away. Tonight. Viva la Revolution!
And I don't think she has one stinking thing to say about it. She threw out my Donny and Marie dolls. Donny even came with little purple socks, which by some miracle I never lost. They're gone. You don't see them very much these days, either.
Oh, Dilf's family's hands are not clean, either. His mom loves two sources of my discontent: garage sales and the dollar store. I have approximately 5,238,895 little plastic dollar store animals. They're going out the door. Tonight.
Also on their way to the landfill: any and all toys that came inside a cereal box or with a happy meal. Goodbye, crap from Taiwan!
And no matter what sentimental value a thing has, if it's broken, it's history. Ditto any stuffed animal that has not been played with for a year or more. It won't be missed. In fact, if it's in pristine condition, which many are, they are getting donated.
Some good has to come from all this chaos and confusion. I'm taking my downstairs living areas back.
Misty Watercolor Memories...
It's amazing how the human mind works. I've been visiting
Slappy the Evil Ventriloquist Dummy a lot lately, and it's been reminding me of when I was in labor with Ubergirl Younger.
I went into labor on a Friday in 2003. For the better part of the day, it was minor cramping. Toward the evening, the pain started and I asked for an epidural.
By 9 p.m., I was seriously hurting, epidural or no epidural. "Law and Order: Special Victims Unit" was on; that's the one where they deal with sex crimes. At the start of the program, a duffle bag was found on a bus. Dilf wondered what a duffle bag could possibly have to do with a sex crime.
Through my pain, I said, "Maybe someone molested a ventriloquist dummy."
Shortly after that, at 10 p.m., weighing an impressive 10 lbs. 2 oz., Ubergirl Younger made her earthly debut.
So you see, that's why ventriloquist dummies remind me of childbirth.
Comparitive Worth
Jordan Almonds are traditionally given to guests at Italian weddings to symbolize that life is both sweet (candy coating) and bitter (almonds). My two posts today illustrate the point.
I didn’t intend to write a second post today. I fully intended to read the paper while eating my breakfast, put in a load of laundry, then go to the YMCA. However, I read a very emotionally jarring story that led me to write again.
It appears that
a 3-year-old boy was found in a Naperville field on Saturday. He was put into a laundry bag and tossed into the field like a bag of garbage. They are having a hard time identifying him, since he’s not one of the 12 Illinois boys reported missing. They’re conducting a nationwide search.
Dominating the front page of the Metro Section, and listed above this story in the online edition, is a story about Brookfield Zoo calling in a specialist to fit their woodchuck with braces.
Now, I am an animal lover. I took my kitty to the vet yesterday because she had the sniffles. I’m not opposed to the loving care of animals.
But when many people can’t afford standard medical care, it disturbs me that a common varmint found in the woods gets a specialist called in for his teeth.
It disturbs me
MORE that a sweet little boy, with a life full of potential, was thrown away like he had no value at all.
Baking Day
UberFriend Claire from across the street will be visiting our house after school to make Halloween cookies.
I know they're not cupcakes, but they're still fun. It's not that I don't know how to make a killer Halloween cupcake; I do. We'll save that for next week.
Did I mention that I love Halloween? Yeah, I guess I did.
10.11.2005
I Pushed the Dreaded "Next Blog" Button Again...
I found
this guy's site. And again I'm wondering, is he seriously that big of an asshole, or is this a comic persona adopted to mock metrosexuals?
My favorite quote from him, explaining why he's not a "nice guy" to women (I have not corrected his grammar):
"Are so supposed to be the wuss with glasses who reads poetry at Barnes & Noble and cries when a rainbow appears?" I know I would cry should
HE ever appear.
Coincidentally, when Googling "Metrosexual" to come up with a picture for this post, it served up this:
Do you suppose it's him? I mean, he put a picture, ostensibly of himself, on his blog, but how do we know for sure which is the REAL ModishMan?
By the way: I have nothing against Meterosexuals or anyone else who takes pride in his/her appearance, even if it seem silly to me. For instance, Nick thinks it's silly that I wax my unwanted eyebrow hair, but I don't; so, who's the arbiter of silliness? What I do object to is the dismissal of anyone who doesn't conform to his standards. Of course, by judging him for his poor grammar skills and superficial view of life, I guess I'm doing the same thing to him. Should I be concerned about this? Perhaps I should
ask Reverend Jack about that.
Note to Dilf:
I fixed the "problem" in the downstairs bathroom.
10.10.2005
Dilf and I Have Chosen Our Halloween Costumes
We are dressing as:
Dilf will be Adam, and since he can/has already grown the requisite facial hair, he's all set.
I, on the other hand, must find the correct mustache or mustache/goatee combination. This goal is proving tougher to reach than initially anticipated. I have encountered many interesting websites in the course of my search. One of them featured a curious amount of meat-related products.
One could buy a meat shower curtain:
With a matching meat shower cap:
And a meat bath mat to complete the ensemble:
Also, bacon-scented and T-bone steak-scented air fresheners:
And, finally, bacon bandages:
This website is oh, so much more than meat. But I'm not sharing it with you because I might need it later, and I don't want to spoil the surprise.
We Haven't Checked in with Cuntzilla in a While
For those unfamiliar with Cuntzilla, you can check out the backstory
here,
here and
here.
I haven't complained about her lately because she gave birth to my beautiful niece and she's been pretty good about letting us see the baby.
But my brother lost his job a couple of weeks ago; he's a mortgage broker and with rates rising, it's just not the cash cow it used to be. His company closed its doors. He did get a new job, but it's another mortgage sales job. His base pay is tiny; he has to rely on commissions. This has driven my mother, with her anxiety disorder, through the stratosphere.
Why am I writing about my dumbass brother and Cuntzilla again? My brother (again, dumbass!) listens to her and her stupid family about what great opportunities these sales jobs are. They NEVER work out for him. Oddly, despite her money-grubbing nature, she loves to see my brother struggle. Whenever he moves up in an organization, she tries to talk him out of accepting better offers; for instance, a Vice Presidency was in his future at the last job, and she fretted about buying a more professional wardrobe for my brother.
I no longer think she's entirely evil, but she is a dimwit. And my brother's a bigger dimwit for listening to her.
10.09.2005
Why I Missed My Assignment
This week's
Flash Fiction Friday was to begin "Loping along through the moonlight..."
I can only think of werewolves upon reading that phrase. Since I think that is too obvious, I can't bring myself to use it.
Please enjoy this picture of classic Universal Studios Werewolf Lon Chaney, Jr. in its place.
Where's Cowboy Nick?
After his visit to Doctor Sardonic in New York City, our friend Cowboy Nick didn't sit on his laurels for long. That critter sure has itchy britches!
Now where in tarnation did he gallop off to? Here's a hint:
This place is one of the last undiscovered lands in Europe, covered in legend and folklore. For centuries it has lured travelers through her unique combination of history, myth and scenery.
These attractions are preserved, in almost unchanged medieval towns, in lively folk and culture, and in landscapes that seem to spring from the past. Here, you step back into a strange and wonderful past.Don't be scared -- take a guess!
10.08.2005
I Don't Know Art, but I Know What I Like
This guy wants to be your source for iconoclasm. He started by discussing Thomas Hirschhorn's installation in Boston's Institute of Contemporary Art.
Admittedly, Dilf was the art major, not me. But here's something that always confused me (as a writer) about visual artists: if you have to write a pamphlet to explain what you were trying to express with your art, why didn't you just write about it in the first place? Why go to all that trouble of decapitating mannequins, stealing your grandma's menorah and buying all that camouflage at JoAnn Fabrics? I thought the point of the painting or sculpture or "installation" or whatever was to communicate your ideas to your audience through your chosen medium. If the artist needs a pamphlet to explain his concept, doesn't that mean he didn't do his job correctly in the first place? Just a question.
Anyway, the artist took up an entire museum to say this:
""From the youngest to the oldest, the Palestinian baby dressed in camouflage to the Volga fisherman wearing surplus military dress, or the antiglobalization 'street fighter,' and the glamorous female pop star, everyone wears the same camouflage look. ... To wear the same dress is the dystopian act towards achieving utopia. ... From ONE DRESS to ONE ARMY to ONE WAR to ONE WORLD. These are the dystopian steps to utopia."I don't own one single piece of camouflage. What does
that mean? Perhaps I should explore my feelings on Utopia...
Dr. Sardonic Found...by Cowboy Nick???!!!
It appears Dr. Sardonic was in his laboratory the whole time. He was experiencing some technical difficulties which affected his communication abilities.
Lucky for us, Cowboy Nick was passing through New York City in the course of his travels, and decided to take a look-see for himself. Sure enough, he found the good doctor elbow-deep in his experiments as usual.
That doesn't mean those two ladies out in San Francisco aren't still hungering for revenge against Dr. Sardonic. They are, my friends, they are. And what those two gals hunger for, they get. Watch out, Sardonic!
10.07.2005
I Declare Independence
Listen up, UberGirls!
If you cannot find a toy earring because the dress-up bins were dumped over and their contents now litter the family room floor, I am not helping find them. If said items are not picked up and put away properly by bedtime, they are being thrown away or donated, depending on their condition. While this is a very specific example, it goes for all of your toys. If you can't take care of them, you don't deserve them.
I am not finding shoes. We have a shoe rack by the door. If the shoes were not properly put away, that is not my responsibility. Find them your damn self. And, little missies, your rooms AND your toy room are getting cleaned out tomorrow.
I will no longer listen to screaming and crying. If you are too upset to talk, go somewhere to calm down and then explain your problem to me. Quit asking me "why" and calling things "stupid." You know when dinner time is; why do you ask for a cookie 15 minutes before it starts? You know the answer to the question and it's always no. Why do you want to start a fight? Especially with me?
When you're old enough to understand, mommy will get you each a calendar and circle certain days in red. If you see a red circle, you'd best not argue with mommy. You don't understand now, but you will.
When bedtime comes, put your pajamas on and brush your teeth. You each get ONE drink of water at that time. Then, you each get to pick out one story. ONE STORY EACH. Then get into your beds without whining and complaining. If you can't sleep, I don't want to hear about it. Just stare at the ceiling; you'll get sleepy soon enough. DO NOT GET OUT OF YOUR BEDS. UberYounger, do not kick the wall, or I will move your bed into the middle of the room.
And to my family members, none of whom read my blog but that won't stop me from addressing you:
If you call and don't leave a message, don't get fucking pissed at me if I don't call you back. I can't always run to hear your precious voice. It's never important, anyway. I'm tired of all YOUR bullshit, too. Treating me like some sort of moron just because I'm the youngest. If you people are so smart, how come you're all so screwed up? You can all just shut up until I'm ready to deal with your bullshit, which might be never. Kiss my still-perky ass.
As Part of My Halloween Countdown...
10.06.2005
Of Course, if I Made as Much Money as a CEO, I Would Spend It Wisely
I would buy this.
CEO Salary Report Shocker -- They Made More Money!
I am astounded, because I thought CEO's already made buttloads of money. Obviously, the size and circumference of CEO buttholes must've gone up, because a "buttload" means even more this year than last.
Check this out.The ratio of average CEO pay (now $11.8 million) to worker pay (now $27,460) spiked up from 301-to-1 in 2003 to 431-to-1 in 2004.
I'm sure they're all worth every penny.
Dr. Sardonic: ABDUCTED!!!
It's not unusual for Dr. Sardonic to become so deeply involved in his experiments that we don't hear from him for extended periods of time. Thus, his recent failure to communicate led us to assume he had merely disappeared into the bowels of his laboratory, immersed in scientific exploration.
Our lack of vigilance has proved costly. Dr. Sardonic has been abducted for unknown purposes by the two supervillainesses pictured here.
These ladies are not unknown to the good doctor; while on a trip to San Francisco he imbibed one too many Irish coffees and promised them the coveted positions of laboratory aides. His glasses must've been fogged as well; Dr. Sardonic's lab aides are purely ornamental (he would never let anyone touch his tubes and wires.) These women were simply, ahem, not his type.
So, when these ladies showed up in New York and Dr. Sardonic saw them in the cold light of sobriety, he reneged on his promise and curtly sent them away. They vowed revenge.
Now, it seems, they have taken it. Oh, Dr. Sardonic, what have these fiends done with you? Who knows what they have planned! If anyone sees these evildoers, please let us know! Dr. Sardonic is quite ticklish.
Evil is afoot.
Bad Music Thursday: Atlanta Rhythm Section
This still isn't the post I wanted to write today. But it's bad music Thursday, and this piece of bad music has been stuck in my head for a couple of weeks now. Enjoy.
So In To You
by Atlanta Rhythm SectionWhen you walked into the room
There was voodoo in the vibes.
I was captured by your style;
But I could not catch your eyes.
Now I stand here helplessly
Hoping you'll get into me.
I am so into you
I can't think of nothing else.
I am so into you
I can't think of nothing else.
Thinking how it's going to be
Whenever you get into me.
It's gonna be good, don't you know.
From your head to your toe,
Gonna love you all over,
Over and over,
I am so into you,
Me into you, you into me, me into you.
I am so into you
I can't get to nothing else.
I am so into you
I can't get to nothing else.
Thinking how it's going to be
Whenever you get into me.
C'mon baby, drivin' me crazy,
I'm so into you,
Love all the things you do.
My 23rd Post Meme
I didn't mean to succumb to yet another meme, but I can't find the proper image for the post I intended to write this morning. So, succumb I shall.
As many of you might have witnessed in you traipsings across the Blogger world, people are taking their 23rd post, picking out the 5th line, and reposting it devoid of its surrounding context.
My problem? My 23rd post did not contain 5 lines or more. That will not stop me from participating, since my 23rd post is classic Ubermilf and one that makes me proud. Here it is, in all its glory:
If you need further warning of what could happen if America continues to dumb down, look on if you dare:
You've been warned.Now, back to the present.
10.05.2005
Even Happier Topic: Cupcakes!
Apparently, Shields and Yarnell were not enough to dispel the pall I put over my blog yesterday. I must pull out all the stops. Let's talk about little girls baking and decorating cupcakes.
UberElder had her friend Sophia over for a visit yesterday (I refuse to use the term "playdate" -- it sounds so contrived, like "synergy" and "thinking out of the box"). We made cupcakes.
Watching cupcakes bake must be considerably more exciting than watching paint dry, because for 21 full minutes two five-year-old and one two-year-old girl sat watching in rapt attention through the glass oven door as 24 lucious chocolate cupcakes baked.
They even cheered on the process, rooting for different colored cups as they rose: "Come on Pinky!" one would shout, while another urged, "Come on, baby! Go higher, go higher!" Younger just cheered them all.
While the cupcakes cooled sufficiently to frost, I got out all of my decorative sprinkles for them to peruse -- Halloween, Christmas, Easter, colors both pastel and bold -- all were made available. I hoped that looking over the choices and varieties available would keep them occupied for a while; I still had a lasagne to assemble for dinner.
My plan worked, but with a twist. I heard the bone-chilling call from the dining room table, "Mom! Meghan made a mess!" I didn't expect them to open the bottles. Sometimes, I am incredibly short-sighted.
With trepidation, I entered the dining room. Three little girl mouths and chins were coated in colored sugar as if they'd been huffing sprinkles. They looked somewhat like Sysm's evil twin's mug shot, pictured here:
Luckily for me, I have this battery-powered sweeper called "The Shark" which made short work of the mess on the floor, and there were still enough sprinkles left with which to decorate the cupcakes.
But further sugar consumption was forbidden until
AFTER dinner, at which time the sprinkles were glued to the little faces in the same huffing pattern as before, by the thin coating of spaghetti sauce that covered them. Plus chocolate frosting.
UberGirlies were put in the tub as soon as the door closed behind Sophia and her mom.
I'm Yearning for a Simpler Time
I would like to wash away the bad feelings of my previous post.
I miss
these guys:
10.04.2005
(Ubermilf Screams Incoherently and Goes Mad with Fear)
Attention Foreverdad, Angry Republican Mom, and of my other conservative friends out there: stories like
this one are what scare me about the Bush administration.
I've taken cheap shots at Bush, his family, and his administration (see "Barbara Bush", below) but sometimes I'm not kidding. This is one of those times.
Bush wants Congress to expand his powers AGAIN "in case" there's a flu epidemic. He wants to be able to put "affected areas" under federal military control. Do you know what that's called? Martial law.
"After the bungled initial federal response to Katrina, Bush suggested putting the Pentagon in charge of search-and-rescue efforts in times of a major terrorist attack or similarly catastrophic natural disaster. He has argued that the armed forces have the ability to quickly mobilize the equipment, manpower and communications capabilities needed in times of crisis.
But such a shift could require a change in law, and some in Congress and the states worry it would increase the power of the federal government at the expense of local control."Since when does a conservative advocate increasing Federal power and decreasing local power? That goes against what conservatives have advocated since this country began: a smaller Federal government. For better or worse, Reagan threw responsibility for many issues back to the states, because that's what his ideology called for. What ideology is driving George Bush?
And why is he calling for these extreme measures?
"Experts agree there will certainly be another flu pandemic -- a new human flu strain that goes global. However, it is unknown when or how bad that global epidemic will be -- or whether the H5N1 bird flu strain now circulating in Asian poultry will be its origin."First of all, flu epidemics of varying severity happen every year. They call it "flu season." Maybe it will be bad, but the evidence is missing -- just like the evidence of weapons of mass destruction. We took his word on that, and look where it got us.
How
did Bush decide this emergency was dire enough that he would need the power to shut down entire areas of the country and put them under national military control?
"Bush made clear that the potential for an outbreak of avian flu is much on his mind, and has him talking with 'as many (world) leaders as I could find' and reading a book on the 1918 Spanish flu pandemic that killed 40 million and consulting staff and experts."Oh my God! He read a book! Maybe this
IS serious after all! (okay,
that was a cheap shot.)
If You're Like This Guy and Looking for a Drinking Game This Morning...
You could come to my house. Everytime you hear the UberGirls shriek, "Kitty!" take a shot. When you hear them yell, "Miss Muffin!" at the top of their lungs, chug a beer.
Everytime a small dark shadow dashes by in sheer terror, take a shot and a beer.
I'll call the coroner if you don't wake up afterwards.
Oh, by the way, we got a kitten.
The Good Old Days, To Barbara Bush
Ah,
The Poorhouse. Remember when you could just make poor people go someplace where you didn't have to look at them anymore?
10.03.2005
The Incredible Adventures of TowelBoy: Episode I
How Towel Boy Got His Name
When Dilf and I first met and started dating, he shared an apartment with his younger brother.
One evening, my friend Miss Amanda and I were going out drinking, dancing and causing trouble; of course Dilf wanted to come along with us. So, we met at his apartment to begin our night of carousing.
Miss Amanda and I took a seat on a couch in a living room while Dilf finished getting dressed. His room was at the far north end of the apartment; the apartment was a quite linear top floor of a two-flat. The layout of the apartment is germaine to my story.
So, Dilf's room was at the far end; then came the bathroom, then the kitchen and Dilf's brother's room across the hall from one another, then the vestibule, then the living room. As I stated, Dilf was in his bedroom, and Miss Amanda and I were sitting on the couch in the living room. Dilf's brother was taking a shower in the bathroom.
What happens next is a debated subject. Miss Amanda's and my version is this:
Little Brother turns off the water in the bathroom and hears female voices. He dons a towel, and emerges from the bathroom. A rather skimpy towel. He travels down the hallway, PAST his bedroom, and makes a triumphant entrance into the living room. Feigning modesty, he exclaims, "Oh, I didn't know anyone was here!" And commences to preening and prancing around the living room.
Okay, the preening and prancing is a bit of an exaggeration, but he was a 21-year-old construction worker at the time, and quite proud of his physique. It was about all he had going for him at the time. (I kid. I kid because I love.)
This exhibition did not have the expected effect. I'm not sure of the response he
wanted to elicit from us, but I'm sure it wasn't the hoots of laughter and the cries of "Put some clothes on, towel boy!" that came from the ladies on the couch.
He bore the unfortunate moniker of TowelBoy among my friends for a long time.
Speaking of Weddings...
Attention TowelBoy (that's Dilf's brother): If you don't marry this girl:
I will shoot you in the head with a nail gun.
10.02.2005
Ugly Weddings
I'm sorry, this is too wonderful to resist. It comes courtesy of the Ugly Bridesmaids dress site, below.
Miss Kathy, this is for you, with much love.
A sample:
10.01.2005
Where's Cowboy Ni.... OH MY GOD!!!
Come back, Nick! Come back! It's not your time yet!
It's October First!
Time for my sisters and I to make our Halloween plans.
I Should Be Writing about My Wonderful Halloween. But SBC Ruined It.
