Hey, Wanna Go to the DMV?

Department of Motor Victim, that’s me. And one would think it is in the realistic sense that perhaps there was a long line, obnoxious personnel, a demand for the removal of one of my ovaries as proof I’m a woman and, in fact, me. But no. Actually I was a victim of my own making.

You see, last year I got a new license. And the picture was pretty good! Imagine my dismay when I discovered I have to renew the whole license a year later. And a new picture. Being the day before the license actually expires, I choose lunch time to head over. Just for kicks.

So I take a shower, do my hair, wear photograph-appropriate attire, and put on lipstick. I mean, God forbid a zitty 16-year old at a retail store or a 50-year old man-woman security checker at the airport should see my picture and it doesn’t look good. I don’t use ID for clubs any more because A) I don’t go to clubs any more and B) who would card a 41-year old? But I digress….. I still have the vanity that is pushing me to get a good license picture.

So I take the 20-minute drive to the DMV and woops.... I left my other (almost expired) license at home. Need the old to get the new, and no Ma’am I don’t happen to have my birth certificate on me. So I schlep back…. get the license…. put on more lip gloss and wander back in the DMV. It's pracitcally empty. No line! Miracle.
(the whole renewal process(and nice personnel to boot) took just 10 minutes).

So in the midst of the process, as I walked up to Picture Lady and whooshed my hair back a bit and cleared my teeth of any potential debris…all ready to SMILE. She pulled up last year's license and said, “Do you want to just keep last year’s picture?”

If you want to know what I did, you’d have to either 1) be a cop, 2) work for the NTSA, or 3) convince me to go clubbing.


My Boyfriend's Ex Wife is in My Freezer

To quote my good friend CJBlue, "Sometimes the headline is really much more interesting than the story."

No need to call the cops. Or the Jeffrey Dahmer Fan Club. It's not what you think. Another friend of mine had a great suggestion to rid oneself of a bothersome person. According to an American Indian Shaman, you immerse a photo of the offender in water, then place it in the freezer. Perhaps it's a placebo effect. Maybe it really works. Maybe there is an ex-wife walking around wondering why she needs an extra sweater.

When I asked what kind of container I should put the photo in, she replied, "Whatever... tupperware is fine." I didn't have tupperware, but I did have a Glad disposable container.

So now when someone is really bugging me, I don't get mad.... I get Glad.


Ludicrous Lyrics

Have you ever been singing along with a song… and then it clicks in your head… “OH….is that what they’re saying?” This notion first came to mind when I realized that during Simon and Garfunkel’s “Scarborough Fair” they did not actually sing “Sagebrush, parsley, Mary and bright.” And then I asked around. A lot of people have had wrong-lyric incidents. Even if you know the real words, sometimes it’s hard to sing them once you’re used to the wrong ones! So here is my small collection of wrong lyrics… any to add?

One song I had never learned the chorus to was Earth Wind and Fire’s “September” I just sang along “Oh dee do, Saturday Remember….oh dee do, Saturday September.” So then I looked up the lyrics. It appears I wasn’t that far off: "Ba de ya - say do you remember… Ba de ya - dancing in September".

My daughter sang with all her might in the back seat at age three “Bob the Build-ahh aaa-er…” to the chorus of Born to be Wild

A friend of mine had a friend who sang “I have a little Moe, he rides in the back…” from Joe Walsh’s “Life’s Been Good”

And Donna Summer… “Someone left the cake out in the rain…and I don’t think that I can take it, because it took so long to bake it…” Oh wait, those ARE the real lyrics, they just don’t make any sense.



So, not to point out the obvious, but it's been HOT the last few days here. Aside from many of my brain cells melting, I'm dealing with a hot, crabby, melting 7-year-old. All I can muster to "cook" are microwavable dinners. Today's lunch is LeanQuisine pot sticers. She just announced to me:
Her: "Ewww! The kitchen smells like salmon."
Me: "It's not salmon. It's Asian food." (okay, not that LQ is Asian...but you get the drift)
Her: "Well, then if it's not salmon it smells like the guys at the bowling alley."
Me: "Huh?"
Her: "Everytime I went to get a drink, I could smell guys' hairy, stinky armpits and it smelled like salmon."

Heat and all, it gave a chuckle. Guess I'll go eat my stinky, hairy armpits now.


Tagged My Own Self

Why am I doing this? Because I can....
1) Do you remember playing 45s? Surely
2) What is the worst band you ever liked?Air Supply
3) Have you ever done the macarena? Once. Against my will.
4) Are there books/magazines are currently in your bathroom? (if yes, what?) Yes. Trash. I like to get the poop scoop.
5) Have you ever done one of those embarrassing group dances at weddings? Who hasn't?
6) Coffee or tea?Coffee
7) Whip or no whip?Whip it good.
8) Did you ever have an imaginary friend and if so, what was he/she/it named?No.
9) Do you know how to perform the Heimlich Maneuver?Yes.
10) Do you still celebrate your birthday? Yessir.
11) Do you or have you ever cross dressed? (women in overalls and men in kilts don’t count) no.
12) What is the worst food you ever ate? chitlins.
13) How old were you when you had your first real kiss? 12. At choir camp. I rinsed my mouth out.
14) Have you had your 15 minutes of fame? Does an interview at the airport for News Channel 4 count? It was about 10 seconds.
15) What is the longest you ever went without sleep for? Probably 24 hours.
16) If your hair could be any color, what would it be? I like it blonde.
17) What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Mint chocolate chip (white, not green)
18) Wax, bleach, pluck, or shave? pluck/shave... interested in Brazilian
19) If you were a super hero, what would your power be? Time travel.
20) If you had to pick, what is your favorite National Lampoon movie? Vacation.


Squeeze Me

Once Upon a time in a far, far, far-away land, there lived a lovely wench and a crafty duke. TAKE ME I’M YOURS! She purred, in a desperate voice. She knew that the duke’s marvelous hunk of flesh was too COOL FOR CATS, so she didn’t protest when he took her UP THE JUNCTION to SLAP AND TICKLE her.
This love affair went on for months and months and months…. passionately. One night, after a candlelit seafood dinner, and hours of PULLING MUSSELS FROM THE SHELL, the duke confessed his secret sin to his lovely lady. “I have been TEMPTED BY THE FRUIT OF ANOTHER,” he said.
“Oh!” she cried, “Woe is me….JUST POUNDING ANOTHER NAIL IN MY HEART….oh, the pain….the pain!” Tears of sorrow slid down her rosy cheeks.
“Don’t cry, my love,” he comforted her, “IF I DIDN’T LOVE YOU I would have given her champagne instead of BLACK COFFEE IN BED – I always give you champagne!”
“In bed?? Champagne??!” she screamed. “IS THAT LOVE??”
At first the duke had felt sorry for his lovely wailing wench, but this carrying on was a bit much. A teensy bit more than he wanted to handle. “Don’t cry, darling,” he said in a tight voice.
“Oh…the pain…the pain…” she moaned.
I’ll give you pain, he thought. He picked up his Medieval cell phone and called his bodyguard. “ANNIE, GET YOUR GUN and come to the castle right away.”
Moments later, Big Annie arrived.
GOODBYE GIRL,” he said calmly to his sobbing lover, “I’ve decided to SQUEEZE SINGLE’S FANNIES instead of yours.”
He took the gun and shot his wailing wench. The crafty duke smiled, finished his ale, and gave Annie a little SQUEEZE.


The Well Has Dried

Writing all day for real life just sucks the life out of me, leaving the "fun" writing (including blogging) to just flounder around in the brain and then flop before taking fingers to keys.

That being said, I'm on hiatus for a spell. Trust me, no blog is better than bad blog. And it has been a bad blog spell (just check the "0 comments" at the bottom of each post!!).

What's funny, is that no one is reading this or checking that! So I'm just blogging to my damn self. So am I crazy? I think so, but not for blogging to myself!

xo all!


Call Hating

Can someone explain to me why you would answer the phone if you knew, upon answering it, that you had no intention of speaking to the person and that you answered just to tell them that you can't speak? "Oh Hi. I can't talk; I'm on the other line." Leading me to my second question: Why would you interrupt someone from speaking, put the person on hold, answer call waiting, only to tell the call waiting person you can't talk? Imagine if you did all of this in person, face to face?

So I guess my thought is this: Talk to the person you are talking to. Then talk to the next person when you are talking to that person.


Don't Bug Me

CJ Blue's Bug post has brought me to this topic. I wrongly guessed that she ignored the bug (wrong). She send Mr. Hubby to the rescue. At this point in my life, the only person I could send to the Bug Zone would be my 7-year-old daughter. And unless I plan on sticking a $20 bill in her therapy jar for freaking her out about a bug, it's up to me. I've had a few buggy experiences in my life - once long ago and once fairly recently.

The long ago incident pretty much cured me of being afraid of bugs (or so I thought....) At any rate, I lived in Miami, where the bugs are ginormous, so you really can't escape the exposure. SO, I was at a Halloween party (what is it with me and Halloween?), and I was wearing a devil costume, equipped with a leotard and tights and I had to take a pee. So on the pot, leotard and tights around my ankles, I did my thing. Enter giant cockroach (AKA: Palmetto bug). It was crawling up the wall directly in front of me above the toilet paper. My first reaction was to run screaming from the bathroom but (A) that would have put me attempting to run naked with tights around my ankles and (B) I was in the middle of a beer pee, which we all know was not about to stop mid-stream for some measly (okay, HUGE) cockroach. So was forced to sit there and watch it. And freak. And watch. And freak. It eventually disappeared somewhere, which was puzzling as there was no space large enough for it to crawl into, which leads me to believe these suckers can constrict their body size to fit in and out of tiny openings. From that day on, large bugs did not creep me out so much.

My latest adventure occurred when I had to reset a fuse down in my scary basement. Standing next to said fuse box I hear this scratchy, fast crawly noise. I look to my right and discover what appear to me to be tarantulas with antlers. After screaming and running away (and having no electricity for the next two hours), I did call on a friend's husband who came and stood next to these bugs to fix the fuse. I then went and did my research to find out that they are called camel crickets.
Ick. This pic is not actual size. The CCs were BIGGER. And why did there have to be 200 of them on the wall in my basement? Of course, the next day the fuse blew again. DAMN. This time I called my "I'm not afraid of anything" girlfriend. Well, she was afraid. Eventually, I had to be the one to stand next to these little suckers (old house + window air conditioners = frequently blown fuses). So I got over the fear. And do you know what? They have now moved to the other side of the basement near the furnace, and they are in little baby form. So when I check the furnace, I just glance over and and grumble. Little buggers.


PV...Not a Fun Thing...

I can't believe how many times I used the term "projectile vomit" in the last 8 hours. So I looked it up.
No entry found for projectile vomit.
Did you mean projectile vomiting? (Seems I misspoke the phrase)
Suggestions:projectile vomiting
For better results, try our search tips:
Nausea Vomiting
Vomiting Treatment
Sick Stomach
Dog Vomit
Would you like to search the Web for projectile vomit? WHY YES I WOULD...

pro·jec·tile vomiting n.: Expulsion of the contents of the stomach with great force.
Your six-year-old starting at 2 a.m. and continuing for the next 18 hours...
And to think I paled when she announced yesterday to me, "They sent me to the school nurse so she could check me for fleas."
We don't have fleas. But we do have vomit.
(sidebar to other mommies and daddies: Red Jell-O not a good plan until at least a day has passed).


Don't Take This Illiterately

The 2005 published book "Life is Not a Fairy Tale" was written by Fantasia Barrino, a "functionally illiterate" singer. You know, I'm sure there are plenty of illiterate people trying to get published, but not having won "American Idol", they just don't have a chance. Life doesn't seem fair sometimes, does it?


This Just In...

From my six year old. "Please don't look at what I'm writing, Mommy. It's my own personal beezwax."

Do You Know What I Know?

Or do you hear what I don't hear?
This is going to be quick, but I have twice now read the article in which Pete Townshend warns the world not to use I-Pods because of potential hearing loss. PT apparently lost his hearing wearing headphones during recording sessions. His website states: "If you use an iPod or anything like it, or your child uses one, you MAY be OK. ... But my intuition tells me there is terrible trouble ahead."

HUH? Is it me, or is the absolute DUMBEST thing you have ever read? This is newsworthy?Hello, Doctor T, you are an electric guitar player. You played in a really loud band for many years. In stadiums with sometimes a hundred thousand people screaming. With amps cranked up to 11 (pardon the Spinal Tap analogy). But I'm sure it was less loud when you smashed your guitar into the amps than it was inside of your studio headphones. What about your fellow musicians? Thousands of them who have been in recording studios. Are they all deaf too? And why just i-pod? Why not personal CD players or MP3 players? Those really big headphones from the 70s...should I throw them away?

I suppose if Madonna is a children's book writer and Tom Cruise is a psychologist, why can't Pete Townsend be an audiologist? I once farted in the bathtub, so does that make me an expert in anything? Heck no, but if it was Brad Pitt, you could bet your tootie he would be the world's next jacuzzi genius.