January 25, 2010

Who Are You And What Do You Want?

Dear Internets,

Let me get this straight.  I can come visit you and be anything I want?  Like, I can be a goat, or a princess, or a bitch?  I can retain my anonymity and write anything I want in your presence and the only judgment I'll get is from complete strangers about whom I care nothing?  Sweet!

I had a conversation the other day with a friend who is learning the blogging ropes.  She started out with a shot and then kind of petered out.  (I've always hated that term, "petered out."  I have a cousin named Peter, who's really weird and it kind of reminds me of him, but mostly it just makes me think of dinks, shriveled, droopy ones, which is just plain gross.)  Anyway, one of the perks of  writing a blog is the fact that you can be anyone you want.  In fact, I have more than one blog so I can maintain my integrity no matter what.  See, like here, I can be a regular snark face, where on my other blog I'm more, well, reserved. 

My friend has yet to grasp this.  She doesn't realize she can be whomever she wants in her little corner of the universe.  Hell, she can have two or more corners of the universe like I do!  It's all a matter of what you have to say and how you want to say it.  I can't help but wonder if some of those famous bloggers out there are also some not-so-famous bloggers under some name that isn't familiar to the universe.

Another thing I wonder is how closely blog depictions of the authors' lives reflects their actual lives.  I mean, I find it hard to believe one woman can cook, craft, homeschool, housekeep, blog/maintain a website, sew, plumb, garden, perform home renovations, and at the end of the day keep her man uber satisfied by performing acrobatic acts in the bedroom.  Really?  Can one woman do all of that?  Believe me, there are blogs out there that will have you believe it, and make you feel like a shitty slug because you can't.  Oh, you'll feel inspired for a minute or two, but reality will kick in and you'll discover you're only good for spotty blogging, take-out food, public school conferences, and a kiss goodnight at best.

As I blather on and on I realize I'm not really saying much of anything in this post.  It's terribly boring.  But you know what?  I don't really care.  Because unlike the blogger who gives the impression she can do it all, I'm the blogger who writes a crappy blog and actually does it all.  That's right.  I'm out skydiving, showing my artwork in galleries, and feeding the poor.  I'm just too humble to brag about it in a silly little blog.

Excuse me now, I must go rock Boyfriend's world.  Oh yeah, that's another thing I do and totally do not blog about.  Except for just now.  Oops, secret's out.

January 22, 2010

I Have A Little Spit-Up In My Mouth Now

Come on. This is just way...too...disturbing.

Talk about your pots de creme.

January 21, 2010

The Movie Of Faux Ma's Demise

Being the uncompassionate person I am I was complaining about how Faux Ma is handling her dire health situation.  While I am definitely not directly involved with the situation due to the fact that having a disease like cancer is a private family matter not to include the likes of me, a mere fixture in her son's life for fourteen years, it drives me nuts how she is living the last months of her life.  I know, just because someone isn't doing it the way I see fit doesn't mean they're doing it wrong.  Except she is.  Way wrong.  More wrong than wrong.  So wrong that she will be questioned at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter.  "So, Faux Ma, how did you make a difference to the world in your last days?"  Her only response will be "I drove Faux DIL nuts."  Not only is it a stupid legacy, being able to drive me nuts isn't really that big of an accomplishment.  It's pretty easy to do.

So as I'm ranting to Penelope about how mental I am over Faux Ma's wasted days she gave me a good piece of advice.  "Sit back and watch the movie."  I've gotten that advice before, from a mental health professional at that, and seriously, it works.  One can be engrossed in a movie without becoming emotionally involved.  Great advice. 

As so often happens when Penelope and I speak we go off on tangents to entertain ourselves.  In this case I asked her, "so, who would you cast in The Movie Of Faux Ma's Demise?"  I must say, Penelope missed her calling as a Hollywood casting director.  She was spot on.  So from now on when I refer to people in my blog, you can picture them like this:

Faux Ma, the life-long passive-aggressive, long-suffering, anal-retentive star of The Movie Of Faux Ma's Demise:

Faux Pa, husband of Faux Ma, possessing a fear of too many buttons on electronics, incapable of operating a microwave, and all around useless housemate:

Boyfriend, son of Faux Ma and Faux Pa, and all around good egg:

Meredith, love of Boyfriend's life, bane of Faux Ma's:

Meredith's Parents, also known as "Mom" and "Dad," trying to make Meredith act toward her Fauxs as lovingly as they act toward the entire universe:

Penelope, her husband, and their children, the family Faux Ma would like at her deathbed instead of her own:

Diggy, Meredith's dead brother and reality-check card played when Faux Ma asks, "why me?"

So there you have it.  If ever I rant about how weird or uncomfortable or stupid things are in the way of a poor dying woman, you'll know the cast members involved and I'll try remember to step back and simply watch the movie.  (Most of us are quite attractive, don't you think?)

Addendum: About thirty minutes after I finished writing this post Boyfriend called the Fauxs and found out Faux Ma's cancer is growing by leaps and bounds.  She'll discontinue chemo and commence hospice.  Boy do I feel dumb now.

January 19, 2010


"Stupid" has been a favorite word of mine for decades.  For lack of a better word, I've described  many things as "stupid."  I lived a day today that was completely stupid.  Here are the stupid things I have to deal with:

1.  My boss.  She's so stupid it makes me want to spit up.  Well, maybe I better cut her some slack.  She's not so stupid as much as uninformed.  Actually it's her boss who is stupid, for putting her in the position to be my boss in the first place.  She's got no business.  Her boss has got his head so far up his boss's ass it's just pathetic.

2.  My place of business.  I'm sick and tired of watching a government agency try with all its might to run things as a corporation would.  The director of this agency is stupid, and looks just like Rosanne Barr's character in that movie She-Devil.  Really, I'm not kidding.  She even has those stupid moley things on her face.  And her ass is huge.  And she looks like a guy.  The thing I can't figure out is since she's worked in the agency she's been married, like, three times.  I can see why the guys would dump her, what, finding a wiener and all, but why would they want to marry her in the first place?  She's ugly, she's a blank, and well, she's stupid.

3.  The Department of Revenue, doesn't matter which state.  WTF anyway?  Can't there be some sort of continuity when it comes to paying taxes? 

4.  People afforded drivers' licenses.  I guess I already covered that here.

5.  Cancer.  Not only is it a stupid disease, it makes the people who have it stupid.  OK, only some people.  Well, just one that I know of.  But she's really stupid and it pisses me off how she plays the cancer card to manipulate people and induge excessively in the passive-aggressive behavior she's harbored her entire life.

All right, that's it for now.  I don't feel any better, but now you know just how stupid I can be.

January 17, 2010

Mama Mia

Thirty years ago (?!) I saw Queen in concert for the last time. It was a date with a guy I had been dating for quite a while, but with whom I was becoming a bit disenchanted. We were on the outs. He was ready to get married, but alas, I was ready to fly. I didn't want to lead him on, but when he asked me to go to the Queen concert with him I couldn't refuse.

I had been a huge fan of Queen since 1976 when they were introduced to me by my friend Penelope. Nothing matches the guitar of Brian May or the voice of Freddie Mercury. I especially liked their earlier works. To this day Queen remains one of my top five favorite bands.

Freddie Mercury in 1980

The other day Penelope got in touch with me and shared something she'd found on her internet wanderings. It's nothing like the real thing, but then what remake is? 

January 09, 2010

i > u On The Road

I keep hearing how it's enough to know in your heart that you're better than someone else than to try to prove it to the idiot you're better than.  (There's a sentence with very poor grammar.  u r > me when it comes to writing, no doubt.)  Years ago I vowed to give up proving my point to idiots.  However, I've found you can stifle your natural urges only so long before you need to satiate the urge or else spontaneously combust.  As I'm not really in the mood to burst into flames at this point in my life I give you...my point. 

I'm a better driver than you are and these are the reasons.

1. I know what "yield" means.  You obviously don't.  It means "you have to wait until everyone else has passed, even if it means coming to a complete stop."  This holds true especially if you are at a red light and want to turn right and the oncoming traffic (me) has a green arrow to turn left.  I encounter this every day on my way to work.   You have a red light, dork, I have the right-of-way, so quit trying to beat me to the on ramp. 

2.  I know what "merge" means.  It's kind of the complete opposite of yield in that you do not stop and wait for the oncoming traffic (which could very well be going 50-70 miles per hour) to stop and let you in.  You speed up and merge in.  If you are afraid to do this, you should never, ever try to drive on a freeway.

3.  There is a misconception that in order to make signal lights work you need some special fluid or something.  Or could it be you are just too flippin' lazy to push that little lever on the left of your steering wheel with your finger?  I know, and you should know, the appropriate signal light should be turned on when you turn into another lane, when you turn the corner, when you turn into a parking spot, etc.  Interestingly enough, the signal lights are also called turn signals.  Use them, asshole.

4.  I know mirrors are for driving purposes, not for putting on make-up.  OK, I'll cut you a break.  You can use your rearview mirror to put on your make-up as long as you are not driving.  Parked.  Oh, and P.S., a make-up job applied while you are driving makes you look like a clown.  A scary one.

5.  I know the speed limits of all the roads upon which I drive.  (Huh?  Good grammar that time.)  These limits vary, depending on if you are driving on a freeway, a residential street, or a country highway.  That does not mean your driving speed should vary while on any of those roads.  When driving on the freeway to my job, for example, I drive 60 mph, the speed limit.  I don't drive 60 mph for thirty seconds, then drop my speed down to 50 mph for thirty seconds, then speed up to 70 mph for thirty seconds, and so on. 

6.  I know the left lane is for passing, or driving really fast.  If you're in the left lane and the people to your right are passing you up, you should have your license revoked immediately.  Get out of my way, and I mean it.

7.  I know those lines painted on the roads are wide enough apart to accommodate the width of my vehicle and I drive between them.  Even on a curve!  Were you also this bad with coloring books?  And while we're on the subject of lines, it is especially important to keep your big-ass truck between the lines of the little-ass parking spots in a parking ramp.  The rest of us who aren't suffering from Tiny Wiener Syndrome can't get in and out of our normal, self-assured-sized cars.  I guess this applies to any vehicle, not just big-ass trucks.  I just wanted to say "big-ass" to make a point.  Because after all the point of this post is to make a point.  Big-ass.

8.  I don't need bells and whistles (i.e. cell phone, blackberry, TV, video, GPS, etc) to "engage" me while driving.  Driving is engaging enough.  If you aren't engaged by the scores of idiots and maniacs sharing the road with you, you just aren't paying attention, which you wouldn't be anyway if you were watching TV or texting your internet soul mate.

I'm getting road rage just by writing this, so I guess that's my cue to stop.  Seriously, you should look to me as an example and in fact worship my excellent driving ability.  You want to be as good as me because honestly, I'm quite awesome. 

January 08, 2010

Unedited Journalism?

This has got to be the best headline yet: Naked Man's Suspicious Package Causes Scene

I'm not even kidding about this.  I would love to know what makes a naked man's package suspicious.  So I read...


January 04, 2010

Oh Those Kids And Their Music

How's this for creative? Tres Cool!