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Gotta love those weekend road trips August 21, 2006

Posted by pammydarlin in Oddly endings.
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I know St. Louis is only three hours away, but geeze…why does it seem like six? Especially the trip home.

It was great to see the kids again, though. And it was definitely great ‘top-down’ weather all the way.


  • Festival of the Little Hills
  • always falls around Julie’s birthday, so we always seem to get in on the action, whether we want to or not. It’s a fantastic little festival…if you’re into that sort of thing. I used to be, but now…not so much. I’m not into the whole antiques/crafts thing anymore, though I don’t mind looking now and then.

    Luckily, we managed to hit one of the many downtown bistros for a sandwich and a cold beer without any parking problems, which was pretty amazing. Even more amazing, the “Princesses-in-training” didn’t kick up too much of a fuss to go festivaling. Then back to Jules’ new digs for a little…ah…”Queenly” birthday celebration.

    Princesses-in-training – they’re workin on their “wave”…but they already have the attitude.

    The Princess and her court jester

    The Queen Mother and her cohort – yes…I’m wearing a “Groucho Marx nose”. Hey…Queens wanna have fun too, ya know?

    The Queen Mother and the Queen


    Go August 18, 2006

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    If, after all that has happened, you still do not understand what we’re up against, go

  • here
  • .

    It’s long past time that we stopped with all the political correctness bullshit and start profiling. If we don’t…well…one day soon, 9/11 will be far overshadowed by what happens.

    I hope, with everything in me, that he’s wrong. I fear he’s not.

    The old BCF post August 17, 2006

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    I’d love to offer you something just outstanding…brilliant and clever and funny. Yea…one of those BCF posts. You know the kind I’m talkin about. Something so intelligent that it just makes ya wanna say “Huh. That girl’s smart. Whoda thunk it?” Something so funny that it makes ya snork your drink out your nose, mid-swallow.

    Yea…aren’t those BCF posts great?

    Anybody know where I can find one?

    A wicked little meme August 15, 2006

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    I’m with

  • El Capitan
  • on this one…just kill me now…’cause I’d rather die than answer some of these. Not necessarily because they’re hard to answer…because I might learn a little more about myself than I really wanna know. heh

    Would you rather:

    1. Watch a porno with your parents OR starring your parents?

    My parents slept in separate bedrooms. And I’m pretty sure that it was the ole “east is east and west is west and never the twain shall meet” kinda thing goin on in their relationship as far as sex was concerned. In fact, even though I’m an agnostic, I think I just might believe in immaculate conception…either that or I was found under a rock, somewhere. I rarely saw ANY kind of affection shown between the two of them. To believe that they actually had sex…if only ONCE…kind of boggles my mind.

    So, as bad as I hate to admit it…and as much as it might scar me for life…I think I’d hafta say I’d rather see a porno starring my parents. Like any good agnostic, I hafta SEE to BELIEVE.

    2. Lick the handle on a public restroom toilet OR eat a wad of toilet paper from the stall floor?

    Um. “I’ll take licking for two hundred, Alex.” If I don’t swallow, it’s not really sex, is it?

    3. Be MC Hammer OR Vanilla Ice?

    Gimme some baggy pants and paint my face, honey. At least MC wasn’t tryin to be something he’s not. There’s nothin worse than a white boy tryin to get jiggy wit’ it.

    4. Be able to fly OR read people’s minds?

    Since I won’t even consider flying IN a plane, I think it’s safe to say that I wouldn’t consider flying without one. Just call me the Great Karnak.

    5. Have whatever you want for one year then die OR be paralyzed for life?

    Ahhh…THERE’S a question. There are varying degrees of “paralyzed”. Para? That might be tolerable. Quad? Possible. Christopher Reeve? Gimme lotsa that morphine, honey and fluff my pillows. See ya on the flip side.

    6. Have a permanent smile OR a permanent blank stare?

    I’d much rather have people wonder what I was up to with all the smiling all the time than to think I was a mouth-breather who picks my nose and barely understands English. Hand me my toothbrush.

    7. Be burned alive OR drown?

    Good gawd. This just gets better and better, doesn’t it? I choose dying in my sleep at the age of 102 after just having multiple orgasms with my 34 year old lover.

    8. Be known worldwide as a racist OR a child molestor?

    I’m with El on this one. Wonder if my white sheets are clean?

    9. Eat three pounds of hair OR drink a gallon of shampoo?

    HAIR? In my MOUTH?? Good gawd! Nothin can give me the gags faster than that stray pub….uh…hair in my mouth. The good thing about choosing shampoo (if there even IS a good thing) is that you’d have a really clean colon in a day or two.

    10. Be God OR the devil?

    I don’t even hafta think about this one. Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go everywhere. I go everywhere.

    The “Enigman” August 15, 2006

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    They say metrosexual guys are out…and real men, men who act like men… complete with love handles…are “in”.

    Perhaps not.

    Or perhaps there’s a whole ‘nother breed out there…neither a metrosexual nor a man. Something inbetween. Something that’s, as yet, unnamed.

    Maybe the term “enigman” might be fitting. A man. Who’s an enigma. An “Enigman”.

    See, Ziggy, though disdaining all forms of sports, televised or not (gawd BLESS him!), has always been a rather manly kinda man.

    He abhors most of what passes for men’s ‘fashion’, instead preferring jeans and t-shirts. He’s definitely not lacking in the personal hygiene department, but he’d rather be caught dead than be found using any kind of “product” on his hair.

    He loves him some porn, but prefers “real” women as opposed to the airbrushed binkies that most immature guys seem to be so enamored of. Though there are times that he’s undoubtedly and completely a “man” at home, he behaves well when in public…no nose-picking, spitting, farting or ball-scratching.

    Despite his membership in the Ay Ay R Pee, he’s still got it goin on in the sack…but he doesn’t do the normal “manly” thing…like roll over and go into a coma immediately after. Sometimes, after a little refactory time, he’s even been known to…uh…shall we say “perk up”? again. My el toro viejo. Gawd bless that ole testosterone.

    As far as the love handles go? Yup. He’s got his share of those, too.

    So, despite his lack of blatant…uncouthness…he’s a “man”, even though he’s a man who’s fairly in touch with his feminine side. He loves women and I think it’s fair to say that he “gets” them…most of the time, anyway.


    As far as our tv viewing habits are concerned, I’m thinkin maybe we oughta throw a football game in now and then…and cut down a little on the HGTV.

    Today, while he was getting ready for work, I had “Sensible Chic” on the tube. For those of you who don’t know, it’s a show where they try to replicate a gazillion dollar, decorator-created “inspiration” room for a couple hundred bucks. Ok, so it’s generally more than that, but you get the idea. At the end, they always brag about how much money they saved in comparison to the gazillion-dollar room.

    And this astute observation came from Ziggy:

    “Yea, they could have saved even more money if they’d have used the second set of Japanese screens and just used a tea wash to tone down the color a little. They really looked more like the ones in the inspiration room.”

    And then he farted.

    Ahhhh…THERE’S my manly Ziggy.

    “I think the term “tea wash” is probably the absolute last thing I ever thought I’d hear come outa my mouth,” he sighed.

    My “enigman”. Gotta love him.

    Odds and ends August 14, 2006

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    Because all my ends are odd

    Well, the self-medicating with booze worked. Kinda. I didn’t go to bed until 2 and dozed off and on until 6:30 or so when I woke up with that “got my ass kicked by Mike Tyson” feeling and a horrible headache. Got up to pee and went back to bed and died until 11:30 or so. So I got 5 hours of pretty good sleep and it made a big difference. Felt better today than I have in a week.

    I don’t plan on using that method very often, though. I’m thinkin if I had a choice between a sleeping problem or a drinking problem…well…I’ll remain an insomniac, thank you very much.

    In other news, check out my horoscope for today…uh…yesterday. I guess it is past midnight:

    September 22 – October 22
    If you’re romantically involved, dear Libra, expect a marriage proposal or some other sort of proposition that implies that the relationship is moving to the next level of commitment. If you are already married, your partner might put forth the idea that the two of you take a long trip together. If you aren’t romantically involved, you could meet someone interesting. Communication between you and that special someone should definitely improve. Enjoy!

    Looks like I weaseled outa that one. Or maybe Ziggy did. I didn’t get a marriage proposal. I did, however, get a proposition. Which, as far as I’m concerned, is a lot more fun. heh

    And speaking of propositions, I thought

  • this article
  • was a hoot.

    Only four in 10 respondents said they have asked their lovers for something in bed in the past month. Now either 60 percent of you have so completely informed your partners just how you like it, and those lovers do it exactly right, or a lot of you just aren’t saying anything.

    It just boggles my mind. You’re having sex…you’re being as intimate with another person as you possibly can be…but you can’t talk to him/her about it?

    “Oh, my gawd…I couldn’t possibly tell him how I like it. I’d be too embarrassed

    Uh…what? Ok, you’re naked with this other person. He’s seen every part of your body including some parts that even you haven’t seen. Ya obviously know him well enough to have sex, but gawd forbid ya actually do something radical like…talk to him about it?

    Ohhh…I get it. “Good girls and boys” don’t talk about sex, do they? It’s ok to fuck like minks, but just don’t talk about it.

    Screw that. Call me a bad girl. I’ll wear the title proudly.

    Weekend at Fidel’s August 13, 2006

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    Anyone ever see the movie

  • Weekend at Bernie’s
  • ?

    From IMDB:
    Tagline: Bernie may be dead, but he’s still the life of the party!

    Plot Outline: A pair of losers try to pretend that their murdered employer is really alive, but the murderer is out to “finish him off.”

    It’s one of those madcap comedies where two bumblers haul their limp, lifeless employer around, pretending he’s still alive and getting him into all kinds of adventures. I thought it was pretty funny, but for the life of me, I can’t remember why they were draggin ole Bernie around. Maybe to ensure their next paycheck.

    Anywho, I’ve been thinkin about Fidel Castro and the

  • “is he dead or isn’t he”?
  • guessing game that’s presently goin on. As you might have read, the communist dog had some kinda intestinal surgery (probably for worms) and ensconced his drunken brother Raul as El Presidente until such a time that he was able to resume control.

    I told Ziggy the other day that personally, I think Fidel is already dead. But we won’t know it…not for a long time. They’ll probably stuff his saggy old ass and parade him around for photo ops and short public appearances…kinda like they did Bernie.

    I can just picture it…Raul and Hugo draggin the dried-up carcass of Fidel around, takin him to the beach…plantin’ his ass in the back of a convertible and drivin around…tying string to his arm to make it look like he’s wavin to all his minions.

    “‘E’s not dead…’e’s only sleeping! ‘E’s a former dictator…an ex-dictator.” (My apologies to Monty Python)

    One can only hope.

    At any rate, if you’ve never checked out

  • Val’s
  • blog, I urge you to do so. He and his friends tell the true story of Cuba, past and present.

    Don’t mind me…I’m self-medicating August 12, 2006

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    Ok, the truth of the matter is, I’m about 3/4 shitfaced. But only because it’s an experiment…not because I like it. Even though I kinda do.

    See, I can’t sleep. Well, I can sleep…sorta…but it’s….disturbed. I have vivid, bizarre dreams. I wake up fifteen times during the night. I have to pee two or three times a night and I wake up in the morning feeling like I’ve just done ten rounds with Mike Tyson….and lost. Badly. Except I still have both ears.

    Though I’ve had periodic sleep problems for the last year and a half or so, this past week has been particularly difficult. It’s been so difficult that I’ve only been out of the apartment once…all week…until tonight. I’ve felt like total and complete ass…afraid to drive, even. Not sick, exactly. Just bad. Out of it. Dopey. I know it’s because I’m not sleeping.

    So tonight, Zig suggested we run up to the River Beach Pub to have some supper and listen to Mike and his guitar. Maybe the fresh air would do me some good. It was nice to get out (with somebody else driving) and it was absolutely gorgeous sitting out on the deck, watching the river. I mean, what can be bad, right? It was one of those perfect evenings…about 80 degrees, no bugs, the beer was cold, the food was good as usual and the music was absolutely….mellow. A little bit of Woody Guthrie; a little bit of The Eagles; The Beatles; Peter, Paul and Mary…it was just nice, ya know?

    So I decide that maybe if I get good and soused, I can sleep. Oh, I know booze actually disrupts your sleep…ya don’t go into REM, so ya don’t get really rested. That’s why ya feel like you’ve been dragged through a knothole backwards after a big drunk. Even if ya don’t feel particularly hung over, ya feel really tired. But, see…during REM is when I have the problems. So I’m hoping if I disturb that…well…at least I can get some kind of sleep.

    We’ll see.

    It’s kinda funny, really. Sleep wasn’t something I’ve ever had a problem with. I’ve worked every shift there is and never had problems sleeping…not like this, anyway. It really kinda pisses me off…something that should be so freakin simple has become such a big problem…has affected my whole damn life the way it has.

    I’m tellin ya…I absolutely hate goin to the doc. I put it off until I have no other option. But this appointment I have with the neurologist can’t come too soon. I want this shit fixed. NOW.

    Now, ‘scuse me. I’m gonna get another beer.

    It just slays me August 11, 2006

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    So I kinda…appropriated…the title of Chef Kevin’s blog

  • It Just Slays Me
  • . But this post definitely fits the criteria.

    The other day, as I was flipping through some of the news channels to get my required news fix, a little story caught my attention.

    I believe they said it was Pennsylvania, but I’m not positive.

    It was about wind power. Ya know? Those huge windmills? Which, as an aside, I just happen to think is a marvelous idea. It’s clean. It’s relatively quiet. It’s environmentally friendly. Well. Except for the occasional bird that happens to be unfortunate enough to fly into one of the gigantic blades. And frankly, they’re just cool as hell to see…in my opinion, anyway. Have you ever seen one? They’re HUGE.

    So the story related how some farmers were taking advantage of offers from these power companies to rent land and erect these huge windmills. The farmers get something like $6,000 a year for each of the windmills. This particular farmer had 32 or 34 windmills on his property.

    Pretty damned good wages for doing nothing, I’d say.

    It’s a win-win situation, right? Clean, efficient, relatively inexpensive energy and the farmers make a bundle without having to work their asses off.

    Well, ya just knew somebody had to bitch about something, right?

    So some of the farmer’s neighbors are complaining about the windmills being “visual pollution”.

    Gimme a fucking break.

    I have no doubt that some of those very same complaining neighbors are farmers, too. Farmers that drive huge, gas guzzling trucks with big tars. Farmers that pollute the land with all manner of pesticides and herbicides and other carcinogenic crap.

    And probably farmers that sit on their asses and let their land lie fallow whilst taking advantage of every subsidy and governmental program they can get their hands on. Governmental programs, by the way, that probably prevent the farmers from renting out their land to the power companies. It’d be like double-dipping.

    I’m thinkin it’s just a case of sour grapes. And even if it’s not, it’s a ridiculous argument. Ya can’t have it both ways. You either keep using fossil fuel which, as we all know, really isn’t a renewable resource…and it’s gettin damned expensive…or you evolve…start using something smarter, cheaper and plentiful, even though your visual “senses” might be a bit offended. It’s a trade-off, but one that’s worth it, in my opinion.

    Personally, I’d like to see some ginormus nuclear power plant go up near those complainers.

    They wanna bitch about “visual pollution”…that’d give ’em something to really bitch about.

    Now that’s customer service August 11, 2006

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    I’ve been hooked on Arizona Diet Green Tea for well over a year now. I discovered it when I first started low-carbing and it’s become one of our favorites. No calories, no carbs and it tastes great. As an added bonus, the green tea is supposed to be good for ya…I think it’s supposed to help with your memory…I forget, though. Plus, it supposedly has more anti-oxidents than regular tea.

    I dunno exactly what the anti-oxidents do, but they’re supposed to be good for ya. I figure every little bit helps, ya know? It couldn’t hoit.

    Aaaanywho, I bought a couple gallon bottles the other day at the grocery store. I didn’t notice until I got ’em home, but one bottle looked just slightly darker than the other one. When I tasted it, it tasted (and smelled) like rust. Like suckin on a handful of pennies…or like when ya bite your lip and the blood gets in your mouth? ACK!

    So last night, I look up Arizona Tea’s website and sure enough…there’s a “contact us” button. So I did. I got an email back from ’em first thing this morning with instructions to NOT drink the tea (as if…hah!), pour it out and call the toll-free number, post haste. So I did.

    I spoke to the nicest woman named Eileen, who actually told me that the product was spoiled (no preservatives, either…forgot to mention that…so much for the green tea helping memory), to not drink it (again) and to pour it out.
    She apologized all over the place however, they’re not gonna replace the gallon.

    They’re sending me a whole CASE.

    I’m thinkin a whole lotta companies could benefit from having a customer service department like that.