Shut Up, Dick!

It seems as if Mr. Cheney has had his circuits re-booted and has been let loose, once again, to terrorize the human population.
Unfortunately, it also seems as if those responsible for the care of Mr. Cheney were unable to reset his hard-drive ... or to fix the copious amounts of drivelling crap that drains sideways from his misguided and mis-shapen mouth.
(I am told, by the by, that the mouth shape is a common feature amongst aliens who have spent a lifetime spewing stool from their vocal orifice).

Anyway.

To quote my youngest this morning ...

"Shut up , Dick!!!"

L.

Temporarily Out Of Order

We hope to have everything back in working order by the beginning of next week.
Thank you for your continued patronage and patience.

L.

Unhand Me, Yankee!

Why, I do declare! My boy is growning up!
He wouldn't even give his Momma any sugar this mornin' on his way out the door - because grown boys who are about to go a fightin' for The Cause do not give their Mommas the sugar of a five year old, don't ya know?

He's fightin' with Robert E. Lee today. General of the Confederate Army.
The 5Th Grade Classes have got themselves a Civil War Reenactment going on and it's gonna take all day for them to come to the conclusion that the South has, once again, lost to the tenacious hands of those damn Yankees of the North.

I thought Jack would be soppin' mad to be on the losing side. But frankly my dears, he really doesn't seem to give a damn.
He is excited, though, to be holdin' an imitation muzzle-loading rifle - which, for once - he can legitimately point at another human without hearing his Momma a hootin' and a hollerin' about the evil ways of guns.

And I'm fixin' to go down the road a piece at about noon time to watch Jack and General Lee fire their losing shots.
Not sure if my boy is gonna live or die yet ...
They're handing out the "fate" cards as we speak.
But whatever outcome is handed to him by the larger hands of the Almighty (Mr. Mattioli to be precise) - we will know that he fought with honor and dignity, wearing a designer top costin' nearly a year's salary new, because we just had nothin' else that seemed fittin' enough for an event such as this.

Finally, his dear old heart-sick Momma (that would be me) had to write him a surprise letter that will be read aloud to him at "Mail Call" time.
Thought I'd paste a copy below.

Fiddel-dee-dee!


December 1, 1864

My Dearest Son,
I’m writing to you today in the hopes that this letter will reach you in time for Christmas. I know this is usually your favorite time of year, as it is mine; but I’m afraid that this year it will feel cheerless and sad without you.
I know you think I worry too much and I probably do. However, the only news we’ve heard recently has been bad news. I’m being told that too many of our boys are being lost in battle, like that awful Siege at Petersburg; and I don’t think my lonesome heart could take it if I were to lose you too. I miss you so much. All I can think about is getting you safely home before those darn Yankies have the opportunity to take you away from me.
I know I’ve been lucky so far. Your Aunt June has now lost three of her boys to those hypocrites from the North. Her only saving grace is that your Uncle Tom is now by her side to help. I wish I could say the same for your own Father. He’s technically still breathing every day - but that’s about as much life as the Old Goat has left in him! Losing both his legs at Gettysburg did something to his mind as well. Sometimes I think he’d rather have died. Having no real use around the farm has made him depressed and I think the fact that he’s watching his slaves disappear every day to the temptations of the North only furthers his frustration. When y’all started fighting it was for the good of State’s Rights. I mean we could see Lincoln’s point about all being created equal and all; but we never were the type to whip our slaves or break up their families, as you know. Your Father thought he was doing them some good by this, and now he feels like he’s been stabbed in the back. Furthermore, we’re hearing about Sherman laying waste to all our good farm and plantation land down here. It just isn’t right.
Of course, it doesn’t help that your Uncle took to fighting for the other side when the Northern portion of Virginia seceded. This is when your Father took to drinking every night. Some of the names he calls your Uncle would no doubt make The Devil himself turn redder than a Beet in the Southern Sun.
Things don’t sound too good, son. I’m not hearing about any more victories. Not since Cold Harbor back in June. Sherman’s march to Atlanta and then its fall on September 2nd has led to massive defeat of both mind and body. There are those who are more scared of the slaves now marching with him than they were of Sherman himself. I also hear that Lee’s army is so thinned by desertion and casualty that it is going to be both tactically and logistically impossible to win anything now. I just think it’s time we cut our losses and just brought all of our boys home.
I did not want to be depressing, but son, with you gone and with all the death and destruction, it is hard to feel any joy. Please. Just come home safe as soon as you can. I miss you and love you so much.

Mom.

Elementary, My Dear Watson!

I've figured it out!
It was basic logic really.

Look. It goes like this:

Early last week My Husband had the Flu. (proof)
By late last week other people had the Flu.
My Husband is a Swine.
THEREFORE, HERETO, HENCEFORTH, ERGO ...
My Husband caused the Swine Flu.

Q.E.D.

And while we are in the business of solving mysteries ...
Here's another little conundrum to wrap your gums around ...

Can anyone tell me how my Husband has been washing his hair for the last seven weeks given that his shampoo bottle has stood empty and upside-down for that long - with me (purposefully) not getting him a new one out because - well, why should I? - AND with the fact that I have been hiding my shampoo out of sheer curiosity as to when he may notice and out of a yearning to figure out exactly what he's been doing in the meantime?

Anyone?
Any ideas?
Yes ...
No ....

L.

Reversal Of Fortune

Before you even begin to think about it ... the answer is "No."
I am NOT obsessed with my tea bags; and I am NOT one leaf short of a full cup.
But I do have to say that it is rather peculiar, to put it mildly, that only one week after learning that I can now "do readings" by looking at my bag-tag, that my bag-tag is now "doing readings" by looking at me!!!

Otherwise ... how else was it able to pick-up on my recent thoughts about death and my life-long affinity for that literary device known as Wit.

(Side-note: An alternative word for "affinity"- according to my Thesaurus - is, again, rather mysteriously, "Cup Of Tea"...)

So.
Death seems to have been on my mind recently.
Not a morbid fascination, or anything.
There just seems to be a lot of it going around right now.

And I was thinking "how would I be - knowing the end is nigh ....?"
When I glanced at my bag-tag and saw what it said.

Pancho Villa,
Last Words.
(1877-1923)

"DON'T LET IT END LIKE THIS. TELL THEM I SAID SOMETHING."

This just about tickled me to death (Not yet Grim Reaper... Not yet)
But that would be SOOOOoooo, so me!

Can my Tea-Tag READ me, or WHAT ... ?????

L.

Last Night's Bar-B-Que

More shameless promotion.
Anne Taintor.com


L

And I Quote ...

To take a quote from Edward Bulwer-Lytton ...

The Pen May Be Mightier Than The Sword.
But lets face it chaps, the sword is a damn site quicker.

I mean. Think about it.

On a rough scale - how long do you think it would take to stab someone to death with a ball-point?

L.

Earth Day (and Every Day) Crafts!

Happy Earth Day 2009 Everyone!

I'm just going to climb up on to my (recycled) soap box for a minute or two and point out that EVERY DAY should be EARTH DAY! And that's all there is to it!

Without a doubt, today is a day that provides an excellent opportunity for learning and for celebration -
But, IMHO, the other 364 days of the year are pretty good days for those things too!
(Leap Year not mentioned but not forgotten)


Check out Kaboose.com

There's Earth Day Craft Ideas, Earth Day Games, Earth Day Projects and tons more Earth Day Fun.
There's also a multitude of tips and ideas for the rest of the year also!

OK. I've come down from my box.
And now I'm going to put on my plat-form shoes, my bell-bottomed pants, my psychedelic head-band and my peaced-out peasant-top (please note, all 70's clothing comes with a hyphen); and I'm going to stand outside my door with my pipe and my beads and tell everyone who passes by to "Love Thy Mother" (earth that is).

I know.
Just like any other day around here ...

L.

Optical Illusion

An optical illusion (also called a visual illusion) is characterized by visually perceived images that differ from objective reality.

Therefore, after walking in to my Husband's room at 7:58 am this morning, I'm compelled to draw the only logical conclusion that is out there.
And that is ... it seems I'm being illuded.

You see.
I'M ill (MD certified, antibiotics in hand, fever to prove it and a headache to boot.)
But HE'S in bed.

So that image of him - the one my mind thinks it is seeing - MUST actually be some kind of trick - because objective reality would demand a different scenario ...
Perhaps one, say, where I was in bed whilst HE was taking care of my son and myself.

The ONE thing that is a BIT disturbing regarding this whole "illusion thing" we have going on here this morning, is that in all the other examples of visual trickery (that I have checked out today in my search for answers) - all of those images keep CHANGING ...

However ... my Husband is NOT getting out of bed ...

Check out this site and you'll see what I mean.

L.

Tasseography For Dummies

According to some blurb I just read about the ancient art of tea leaf reading, the need for patience cannot be too strongly impressed upon those who are beginning to learn the language of tea-leaves.
For apparently, some of the most interesting symbols are very, very small and will certainly be missed by the "seer" who is in a hurry!!

But fear not my sisters in search of speedy solutions via steeped serendipity!
Good Earth has provided an answer!

Through the creation of one little tea bag with one little tea tag , Good Earth has altered our paths forever.
And at long last, divination by tea-leaves, or tasseography divination as it is known to those "in the biz," is no longer off limits to novices like ourselves!!!

Patience - shmatience.
Symbolism - pimbalism.
Tea leaves? Who needs'em?
Let our drains flow freely!

For today, "the way" hangs on the end of a string instead of being buried at the bottom of a smelly, wet cup.

I say we all celebrate with a nice cup o' tea!

L.

TODAY, MY TEA TOLD ME:

Trust thyself only, and another shall not betray thee.

Thomas Fuller (1608 - 1661)

Arch-Nemesis

So.

You have returned ...

Well let me be the first to tell you that there's a new sheriff in town now. And from where I'm standing your chances of survival ain't looking too good this year, my friend.

I tried being reasonable. I didn't like it.

You've got to ask yourself one question ... "Do I feel lucky?"

Well. Do ya punk?”

Go ahead. Make my day!

L.

Things I Learned Today

A). When a recipe calls for the use of a food-processor, then, you should probably use a food-processor.

B). In the event that you do not own a food-processor - because you already have as many cooking gadgets as your Lilliputian kitchen can store without taking doors off cupboards or blocking the two inches of counter space you actually do have left to work with - then DON'T think that substituting a blender for a food-processor will do the trick.
Unless, if by "the trick", you mean slathering your walls in a half-pureed soybean and garlic mixture with a lemony accent and a hint of middle-eastern spice.


2). THINGS MY HUSBAND LEARNED TODAY...

A). When you wife goes shopping for special ingredients and spends half of her morning roasting her own garlic instead of buying the ready-roasted crap in a jar and then spends the other half of her morning cooking, chopping, squeezing, measuring, "pureeing" and coping with the inadequacies of an archaic blender - you DON'T walk in to the kitchen and say:
"Christ! What's THAT?"

L.

Hair Raising Questions

I ask ya?
How many chest hairs can one man lose to the surface of the Bathroom floor and still look like Chewbacca?

And why is it that the hair on the top of the head slowly withers and dies over time - whilst the hair sprouting across the pale, moley chest of an adult man reproduces quicker than a time-lapsed Chia Pet commercial?

I know that there are some of you who think of male body hair as sexy. As a sign of intense masculinity. As a-hunk-a-hunk-of-burning-love.

But as I'm wiping up the mounds of short and curlies that tend to congregate around my toilet stall - I gotta tell you ladies, I'm just not feeling it.
The only burn I'm getting is retinal ... from the chemicals in my cleaning bucket.
And there's no love involved, whatsoever.

Lordy. I hope my son inherited MY genes.

L.

The Devil Made Me Do It!

Over the weekend I spent some time with my BFF Sara, delving into the realms of the mystical via a set of fun cards called The Housewives Tarot.

I think the cards MIGHT give you some insight into what we MAY have been doing and how we PROBABLY feel about it now we have to get out of our pyjamas and back in to our jeans!

Click Here To Do Your Own Reading ...
1). Select "Tarot Reading."
2). Click on the top card.
3). Then click on your past, then your present and then your future!

The Good News?
You can click the cards as many times as you want until the reading fits with your thoughts on how the reading should be!!

L.

Revenge of the Nerd

You might want to check out Sunday's post first, if you haven't already.

Payback's a bitch ...
I'll reserve judgment on the wife ...!!
But after nearly six months of being made to look like a twit with an 'a' ...
All I can say is : CAN YOU FEEL THE THICKNESS???

D.

Not Funny

The casket of Air Force Staff Sgt. Phillip Myers, of Hopewell, Va., who was killed in Afghanistan on April 4 was lowered to the tarmac on Sunday, April 5, 2009 in Dover Air Force Base, Del. After receiving permission from the family, Myers was the first casualty to be observed arriving at Dover since the ban on media news coverage of returning war dead was put in place - 18 years ago.

My heartfelt gratitude and condolences go out to the family of Air Force Staff Sgt. Phillip Myers; and to all those who serve and to all those who have lost loved ones who served.
It is my sincere hope that now we can see the horrific casualties of war, we will perhaps do more to prevent them and bring the wars to a much needed end.


L.

Sixteen

You might want to check out Sunday's post first, if you haven't already.



According to my friend Joanne, blogging is for really old people. Like for people in their thirties and forties. She says I spend too much time writing and not enough time living.
But I'm not really sure what she means by living since it seems she's involved in some kind of suicide pact just about every other week when another one of her favorite bands breaks up.

My friend Denise makes fun of me every time we're out too. She waits until Mike pulls up in his mini-van and turns his music down - and then she'll say something about how she's surprised I'm out tonight and that maybe I'm just waiting for them to do something so I can write about it.
Mike always laughs and says he'd like to give me something to write about and Denise thinks he's meaning he wants to do something with her. But I think he's talking about me because he always looks in my direction when he says it.
And anyway. When she isn't around he talks to me about music and stuff.
He says that at least he can talk to me.

Helen said that the boys only pay attention to Denise because she has huge boobs and the lads know they can get off with her. Denise's sister said that you can tell how much sex she's had already by the size of the gap between the top of her legs. Something about keeping your legs apart for a long time.
When she's wearing jeans you can see straight through to Lancaster. My thighs are too fat on the inside to ever get a gap. They're always rubbing together and giving me a kind of rug burn from them rubbing so much when I walk. I always have to wear long sweaters so no one can see my bottom and thighs.

When my Mum first saw Denise she said that her skirts were so short that you'd be able to see her tonsils if she sat down. Craig laughed a lot when he heard that but my other friends didn't really know what she meant. Craig seems more grown up than a lot of the lads around us. He wants to go to London and be a make-up artist for actors and theatre people. I think he's really talented. He's easier to talk to than any other boy I know.

Denise doesn't bother me much though. I know she's not really my friend.
One day after University I'll be doing a cool job and will have moved from this place and she'll be pumping petrol at the local Filling Station for forty hours a week before having to go home and make tea for some slobby husband and the kid she got knocked up with.

Her hair will probably be falling out too because she's dyed it blond so many times already. I think that if she didn't dye it blond she would look like a man. I think it's stupid how boys can just think that because you are blond you are good looking. Craig would agree with me. He thinks my dark hair is nice and that I have good eyes. But I don't think he's interested in me. He's never gone out with a girl that I know of. But we don't talk about that.

We do talk about a lot of other things though. Like about politics and equality and saving the earth and stuff. Craig says Denise's definition of recycling is going with the same lad two times in a row. I think he's joking but I heard someone say that she's used the same condom more than one time.

Joanne asked me the other day why I just don't write a proper diary instead of writing stuff on a blog where anyone could see it.
I keep wondering about that too and I don't know.

Maybe when I'm older I'll have some more answers.

Peace.

L.

#2

1st - C B 4 ! :)



L.