Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Valentine Daze

Be My Valentine At last, the flu bug has been beaten into submission here. Family members are back to work and school, and I am going to go sleep for 6 hours to recover myself - LOL
Valentine’s Day is THREE WEEKS from TODAY! (All the male readers experience temporary blindness - LOL)
I’ve decorated the ol’ blog - added a countdown (I will send the code to anyone who wants it) changed the banner and colors a bit (still tweaking the colors some, it’s hard to find colors that look good and provide enough contrast to show up well.)
WIN FREE CANDY! Russell Stover Chocolates Send in your best Valentine joke, and I will compile them into a post each Friday for a contest, and ask readers to vote for their favorite. You can post your jokes in the comments section, or e-mail them to me here:
Valentine’s Day is Tuesday February 14, so I will announce the winner on Friday, February 17. I will send the winner a free box of Russell Stover Chocolates!
Here’s one to get you started:
A young woman was taking an afternoon nap.
After she woke up, she told her husband, "I just dreamed that you gave me a pearl necklace for Valentine's Day. What do you think it means?"
"You'll know tonight." he said.
That evening, the man came home with a small package and gave it to his wife.
Delighted, she opened it--only to find a book entitled "The meaning of dreams".
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Sunday, January 22, 2006

Gas Guzzler

Well, I did a dumb thing. Again. Duh - LOL Everyone here is still suffering through cold and flu symptoms. Thank you all for your kind comments and good wishes. I needed to go out and get more medications (Do they sell Nyquil in gallon jugs? LOL) It was hideously cold and windy, and my car was almost out of gasoline. Grumpily, I got out to pump it, shivering, my hands shaking. I jammed the nozzle in and turned my face away from the car because the wind was beating my hair into my face. I squeezed the trigger, latching it into the lock position, so I could put my freezing hands into my pockets and something didn’t sound right. I turned back and gasoline was spewing in every direction! I hadn’t gotten the nozzle seated properly, and instead of going into the tank, it was ricocheting back out, spraying all over me. I was drenched by the time I got it shut off, but then I had to stand there dripping, shivering and hoping I wasn't shaking enough to create a friction fire, put the nozzle in the right way, and fill the tank. I drove home with the window down because the stench was about to knock me out. (Why couldn’t my nose have STAYED stopped up? LOL) I got inside, threw my coat, clothes and shoes in a trash bag, and tossed it out on the front porch, (naked - thank gawd we live WAY out in the country LOL). I slammed the front door shut and glanced out through the glass to see all of the curious cats run over to the bag, start to sniff, then jerk away in disgust! LOL I headed in to take a long, hot bath and wash my hair, and French Fry Boy called out, “Did you get the medicine?” HE is the one who left the car with almost no gasoline in it. I opened his door just a crack (naked and gasoline drenched) stuck my head in and shot him the death-ray laser look, which I’m sure was confusing to his already fevered mind LOL He looked so pitiful lying there sick though, I didn’t say anything. He’s lucky I don’t believe in capital punishment though - LOL

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Family Flued

Everyone here is sick with the flu. Not bird flu, unless you count the fact that they are driving me cuckoo - LOL All home, all fussy. Welcome to Sneezy Town. Coughedy Central. Extreme Acheover. Will return at some point, when Saturday Night Fever subsides. LOL

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Enter the Laughter Named to Blog Herald List

Well duh on me - LOL Took the day off from the internet yesterday to spend time with family. Stupid family! LOL (Just kidding) But it did cause me to miss one of the biggest honors yet for this blog - being named to the Blog Herald’s "100 Blogs in 100 Days" list! I am speechless (which you know is a rarity - LOL) I would like to thank The Blog Herald for naming me, I am genuinely flattered and honored. Please swing by there and let him know this wasn't a huge mistake - LOL! Because I am too verklempt to say anything witty, I will reprint one of my favorite blog posts, from July 29, 2005, my birthday: DMV or Diarrheal Mahatma Voodoo Only in America could a severely flatulent white woman, a nice gentleman from India, and his Haitian wife meet in the line at a Department of Motor Vehicles office, and bond. Still suffering The War of the Bowels, I was feelin' mighty poorly, and the last thing I EVER want to do, (much less when I am suffering from diarrhea) is go to the DMV. But the new Neon had to have the taxes paid and the license purchased, because Husband must commute from the farm through a nearby small town, and the fine upstanding officers who may read this so I am not about to say anything bad about them, do tend to look for those minor infractions like one mile over the speed limit, or two minutes past the expiration of your tags. So, while Husband was sympathetic to my plight, he requested that if it were humanly possible, he wanted me to go take care of the nasty business. And nasty it was. I packed up my troubles (and Kaopectate) in my ol' kit bag (along with all of the necessary paperwork) and biled, biled, biled. The line snaked around in a zigzag pattern, disguising how long it really was. Sneaky bastards. An exotic couple were last in line when I entered the building, and were muttering to one another in accented English, about the pitiful lack of available office workers and the wife's desire to put a hex on the clerks who disappeared through a side door never to be seen again. I stepped into the space behind them and promptly passed gas. They turned, I blushed, and apologized. It was the first of many such moments. My gut ached and cramped. The line never seemed to move forward, but other weary applicants lengthened the queue. The couple in front of me turned again when an involuntary moan escaped my lips. "You sound berry bad," the kindly gentleman from India said. I nodded. Motioning to the slow-moving line and group of folks who continued to pour into the building, he asked, "is it always this crowded?" You know you're in a bad situation when a Calcutta native thinks the place is crowded. I nodded again, afraid to open my mouth, fearing a sulfurous belch might escape and combust, the room was so hot. An old man several spaces ahead of us was pretty clever. He had retrieved a chair from the hallway, and sat in it in line. Every so often, he would abruptly stand up and spout random epitaphs to no one in particular. After his pronouncement, he would sit back down, and doze off for a while. I conversed with the couple, who explained they had met in a community college class. They were very nice, and held my spot for me when I felt something heavier than gas about to escape, and dashed to the toilet. When the old man took his turn with the clerk, the nice gentleman from India retrieved his chair for me. Finally, I was able to shuffle off to beefalo. That is not a typo, it is a product sold at my next stop, the nearby meat store. It a cross between beef cattle and buffalo, high in protein, low in fat, and amusing to imagine being conceived. I drive past the buffalo ranch if I take the gravel road into town, and they are magnificent beasts to behold, but for some reason, picturing one of them fornicating with Elsie the cow, just makes me giggle. I feel a little better today, and plan to sit back and chill, 'cause it's my birthday! Best wishes to all who read!

Monday, January 16, 2006

Martin Luther King Jr. Day

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Acceptance Speech,

on the occasion of the award of the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo, December 10, 1964

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. I believe that even amid today's motor bursts and whining bullets, there is still hope for a brighter tomorrow.

I believe that wounded justice, lying prostrate on the blood-flowing streets of our nations, can be lifted from this dust of shame to reign supreme among the children of men. I have the audacity to believe that peoples everywhere can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, and dignity, equality and freedom for their spirits.

I believe that what self-centered men have torn down men other-centered can build up. I still believe that one day mankind will bow before the altars of God and be crowned triumphant over war and bloodshed, and nonviolent redemptive good will proclaimed the rule of the land.

"And the lion and the lamb shall lie down together and every man shall sit under his own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid." I still believe that We Shall overcome! Complete text

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Fugly Feet

I have ugly feet. Really ugly. Scare small children ugly. Cause blindness in extreme cases ugly. Fugly Feet. fugly: ADJECTIVE: Inflected forms: fug·li·er, fug·li·est Vulgar Slang - Very ugly. ETYMOLOGY: Shortening of f*cking ugly. My second toes are longer than my big toes. My little toes are misshapen triangles, having spent their entire lives trying to hide under the toe they are next to. Both feet have multiple scars. Some are from breaking both ankles twice. The first time, when I was six, I broke them at the same time. Boy, wasn’t THAT a fun summer - LOL Third and fourth times around were spaced apart, but each break required surgical repair, resulting in several metal objects being implanted to stabilize the multiple fractures. This left each ankle with three scars, on the front and both sides, and made getting through airport security as much fun as having a passport that says my name is Marti al-Zawahri - LOL Some are from going barefoot every summer since I was born. By mid-July, I can walk over gravel and hot asphalt. If only there was big money in such a talent - LOL I’ve dropped things on them. Lots of things. Heavy things. Sharp things. Then there are the things that go bum in the night. That’s always me...smashing into a chair leg, a door I thought was open, or an errant vampire (Vampires hate being startled by having a klutz bump into them in the middle of the night LOL) So? So yesterday was Friday the 13th. Despite the wretched luck I’ve had all my life, I am not an extremely superstitious person. Oh sure, I would exercise the normal amount of caution - not opening an umbrella under mirrored horseshoes, but nothing truly foolish LOL Until I put on my shoes. Why, oh why (she cried out in hind-sighted anguish) didn’t I shake them? I almost ALWAYS shake my shoes out before putting them on, after hearing Husband’s tale of his time in the tropics, when he slipped his foot into a shoe that was occupied by a scorpion. But alas, yesterday, I did not. And inside the shoe was a spider. And not the itsy-bitsy spider that climbs up the waterspout, but a big, mean pissed-off brown recluse, which attacked my big toe, upon its intrusion into Spidey’s hideout. I felt the sting of the bite and yanked the shoe off, as a large red welt instantly appeared atop my toe. I shook out the shoe, and Spidey went a-runnin’. Briefly. Then said shoe met Spidey, rather forcefully, and Spidey went to that great web in the sky. Because we live in the woods, I’ve been bitten by many a brown recluse, and only required medical attention the first dozen times or so, until I built up sufficient immunity. By now, I imagine I am toxic to them LOL And so, I spent the rest of the day shoeless and swollen. There is great improvement today, and the welt has reduced to a small, blistery bump. Like all brown recluse bites, it will leave a sunken divot in the skin. One more bit-o-ugly. LOL The moral of this story is: It may be fun to shake your booty, but if you don’t want swollen toes, shake your shoes.