September 27, 2007

That Grace, It Be O-Mazing

Dude, ya gotta lay off the shit, especially in church.

September 24, 2007


Back in, oh, I suppose it was around 1980 or so, I broke up with a guy. It's a long, sordid story that involves Space Invaders, sibling rivalry, a penis with no girth, and accusations of infidelity. I won't get into it because it is so painful...not. More like, boring. Anyway, I had broken up with this guy, and as they always do, he came back. I must have embodied some advice I heard, leave them wanting more. All of them, my old boyfriends, came back at one point or another.

Anyway, a few weeks after we broke up this guy called while I was in the midst of some family event. I remember sitting around the table with everyone when the call came. He wanted to know if I would go to Northrup Auditorium with him, that evening, to see Marcel Marceau perform. I told him no, I didn't think that would be a very good idea. I knew there was more to the package than a free show given by an internationally known artist. All I could think of was that pencil-like weiner and gallons of cold sweat. Ew. Besides, I was in the midst of a family event. Someone's birthday or something.

I hemmed and hawed. I told him I was busy with the family. He practically begged me, and the more he pleaded, the bigger my ego got. My entire family was overhearing the conversation, and my mother finally asked, "what does he want?" I told her, and she gasped and said, "Go! You have to go! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" OK, she didn't know about his, you know, or that I would be expected to touch it at some point in the evening. Then ego says, he wants you bad, and you know you love it when that happens.

I knew it was wrong. My mother always told me not to lead men on. She always told me not to keep friends just for what they can give you. I was going to make the adult decision and say, no, it just isn't a good idea under the circumstances. With him begging me in one ear and my mother telling me to take advantage in the other, what could I do?

He picked me up and we went to see Marcel Marceau. Despite the bad rap mimes get, it was one of the most wonderful shows I'd ever seen. Despite the cognitive dissonance I got from my mother telling me to "take advantage," I'm glad I caved and accompanied this guy. Extra plus, gentialia was not part of the evening's expectations. We merely made out for about five minutes after he took me home. The making out part was always kind of good.

All in all it was a good night.

And a sweet good night to Marcel.

Marcel Marceau, 1923-2007

What Dog Are You?

The other day my friend Ruthie told me she (and her husband, sort of) had to put both of their dogs to sleep. One of them had cancer. The other was deaf and blind and probably had other problems that I can't think of right now. Angel, the cancer-stricken one, really had to go, and Harry, the sense-less one, wouldn't be able to get around very well without Angel to lead him. Plus, he was about eighty-seven years old. It was a very sad occasion that made Ruthie cry and Ray sleep a lot. Sad, indeed.

Synchronicity led me to a fun video that shows how people can look like their dogs, or just look like a dog, whether he or she owns it or not.

Seeing this made me wonder, if Ruthie and Ray were to get dogs that look like themselves, what would they be? Here is what I came up with:



Good luck, you guys.

September 18, 2007

Soft, Silky, and Manageable...Not

Time to get a haircut. As much as I like a cute hairstyle and looking fabulous in a fresh coif, going to my stylist is way up there on my list of things to procrastinate on.

I've had the same stylist for many years and have gotten several positive comments on the style of my hair. But I let it go until I look like a shaggy Q-Tip, my naturally curly hair in my eyes as it blows up at the slightest hint of humidity.

When I feel like hurting myself for procrastinating on making a hair appointment I look at pictures like these. Suddenly I don't feel so hideous after all. Coming to see you Thursday, Lynnie!

September 13, 2007

Less Is More...Really

Could there be a more annoying ad on TV? Today I woke up with this song in my head. While I took my bath my mind's ear heard "a little bit more a little bit more..." While I got dressed my mind's ear heard "a little bit more a little bit more..." While I drove into work my mind's ear heard "a little bit more a little bit more..." And now, after being at work for two hours and my mind's ear hearing "a little bit more a little bit more..." I compound the problem by searching for the damn thing on YouTube so I can share my misery with the rest of the world. Not only is the song bad, the ad features bad spelling. What message is that giving to the young people of today?

And what's with the bald chick?

September 07, 2007

Brush With Fame

One day while Boyfriend and I were visiting the Minnesota State Fair we had a brush with fame. Well, fame might not really be the word for it. These two are local celebrities. Well, celebrities might not really be the word for it either. They have a cable access show in Minneapolis a la Wayne's World, only these two show country and western videos. I spotted them as we were perusing the seed art in the ag/hort building (agriculture/horticulture for you tourists). Boyfriend was so excited he had to go up and shake their hands. OK, I admit, I did too. Viva and Jerry. Stars in their own right.

This is Viva.

This is Jerry. Notice the little happy face drawn on his thumb.

These two are stereotypical Minnesotans. I'm sure they were inspiration for the dialect used in the movie Fargo. My descriptions cannot do them justice. I've included an amateur video I found just to give you a taste of what they're all about. Kinda makes you want to pull out the one-hitter and enjoy their magic to the fullest.