How to blow your kids’ minds

Go to Portable North Pole and help Santa make a video for your kiddo(s).    It’s AWESOME and easy and you’ll be so glad you did.

Merry Christmas y’all!

A quick update

I’m sure by now that everyone has heard of the massacre at Ft. Hood.   For anyone who recalled that my son and daughter-in-law are both stationed there, I just wanted to let you know that they’re both fine; as is my nephew, Celso, who is also stationed there.

They all very quickly got in touch with family, so we knew they were ok before we knew there was a reason to worry.

So they’re ok and we’re ok, but a lot of people aren’t.    There is a call for blood at Ft. Hood, so if you are able, please go donate.

I’ve had my eye on the news all evening and this still makes no sense and I doubt it ever will and it’s just so damned sad.

The victims and families are in our thoughts and prayers.  I hope they have plenty of support and love as they start down this new path.

I also have a few things to say to you, Bones

While watching an episode of Biography on A&E the other night, I noticed a boo-boo.

If by ‘boo-boo’ I mean ‘total glaring mistake which makes it obvious that those responsible for producing this show are lazy fucks and also that they think the viewing public are stupid fucks’.

The episode was about Aretha Franklin. About 5-10 minutes in, they were talking about Aretha’s upbringing in 1940’s-50’s Detroit and went to a bit of black and white video showing some of the city from that era.

As I watched the clip, I found myself amazed that Family Dollar Stores have been around that long. Then I start to notice how most of the cars look like they’ve been manufactured in the last decade.

Y’all, they took modern footage of WhotheFuckKnows, USA, and made it black and white and made it all crackly like extremely old video.

Now, presuming that there is no stock footage of Detroit from back the actual day(which I fucking doubt), surely they could have used stills of Detroit from back then or even done away with a visual representation of Detroit whatsoever.

I quickly rewound (love you TiVo!), and had Pookie watch it. He too immediately noticed the issue. You know why? Because he has EYES and a BRAIN.

I’m very mad at you A&E. Biography is one of my favorite shows and it’s usually top-notch. This went straight to the bottom notch; not even stopping at middle notch for a pee break.

Your name is supposed to stand for Arts and Entertainment. I would suggest that you change that to Amateurish and Excerebrose.

A&E, may the fleas of a thousand circuses decide to winter in your collective boxer shorts.

I also have a grandkitty

So, you all remember Nate, right? To re-cap, Nate is my oldest kiddo, who is not so much a kiddo anymore.

He’s 22 and still in the Army, having changed his MOS from Cavalry Scout to Combat Medic.

He went for training this last February in San Antonio at Ft. Sam Houston and loved it and has a natural aptitude for it and did really well at it.

Also, as it happens, he met a girl. As he described her: “Mom, she’s a tall, skinny redhead from New York and I’m in love with her”.

Well, alright.

It has long been a habit for Nate to call me up every 6 months or so and tell he’s getting married. For laughs. For shits and giggles.

Because it’s funny to give your mother a heart attack.

So he calls me in early June and tells me that he and Courtney are getting married.

Now I’ve been fooled before and even said, “Yeah, right. I’m so sure.”, but I could tell he was serious.

Not only were they getting married, they were getting married in 2 days. Without family, at the courthouse.

I handed the phone off to Baby Girl so I could go pace around the driveway and cry for awhile. Then I got over myself and listened to the details.

They were getting married so quickly because it was the only way for them to get sent to the same base when they graduated from Combat Medic training. They knew they wanted to get married anyway and if they didn’t do it NOW, it would be two years before it was even a possibility again.

It was actually the next day, on June 11, that they got married, with a few friends in attendance.

We did get to meet Courtney and have a meal with her and well, we love her.

She is indeed a tall, redheaded New Yorker. She’s also sweet, smart, funny and has referred to me as ‘The Coolest Mother-in-Law Ever’.  How could I not love her?

Oh, and here’s a pic of the happy couple:

Heh. Sorry.  I’ll post one of her looking at the actual camera when I get her permission.

Holy Shit, it has been almost a year

Since I posted here, that is. Wow.

Roo* pointed out how long it had been in a hilarious (new) comment on the last (old) entry.

Man, I used to hate it when bloggers went so long in between posts and offered weak excuses (we’re ALL busy bitch, get to typing!) and promised to do better only to NOT DO BETTER AT ALL. GOD.

Now, I totally understand it. I get it.

I don’t know if what happened to me has happened to any of those bloggers I used to get peeved at, but if it did, man, I feel for ’em.

See, what had happened was, I lost the ability to write anything remotely interesting, at least to me. It all sounded like ‘kids still amazing, Pookie still hot and awesome, I need chocolate’. (all those things are still true, by the way)

I can’t tell y’all how many blog posts, comments on others’ blogs, Facebook updates, etc. that I’ve started and ended up deleting because they weren’t funny or smart or interesting.

Like this post, so far.

I think I’m gonna give this another try, though. Maybe try to spruce the place up. Learn how to use WordPress again because it’s a fucking miracle if this thing actually gets posted.

I’ll have to come up with a new theme though, as I haven’t had a potentially fatal but ultimately ridiculous injury for quite some time now.

Anyway. I’m back. Thanks entirely to Roo, who made me choke on my coffee this morning. Thanks Roo, that was the closest I’ve come to death in a while!

* Ed. I think I fixed it! It’s basic blogger courtesy to link to another blogger if you reference them in a post. However, as noted above, it will be a fucking miracle if this thing posts and I have no idea how to link anymore. I promise to study up on WordPress before posting again!

Also, since Pookie and Baby Girl and Nate and Andy have all been after me to post at one time or another, they’ll probably be a little peeved that it was Roo who got me going again. Sorry guys! Maybe you, too, should have suggested I shoot myself in the head for blog fodder.

Shit that has happened since the last time I blogged:

1) My son, Nate decided not to leave the Army, deciding instead to change his MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) (or as the rest of us call it: JOB) and is re-enlisting.  On the up side, he’ll come out of the Army with a marketable skill (he’s going into the medical field), and on the down side, we’ll have to continue missing him a lot.

He’s promised to keep in much better touch and has so far kept that promise…kind of.

One has to wonder where he gets the inability to keep people updated on what’s going on with him.

2) We attended many, many baseball games.  We ate much ballpark food, which is pretty damned good.

3) Pooter finished up his t-ball season and is now playing soccer.    Thank God for shin guards, those little fuckers are vicious!

4) Sarah, my daughter, is working full time in a supervisory position.  She’s becoming a grown-up, while still trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up.

5) Andy, my stepson, or as I prefer to call him, Pookie Jr., is now a licensed driver.   Be afwaid, be vewy afwaid.   Of course, I’m sure he’s an excellent driver and I can’t wait to make him drive me all over town doing every errand I can think of until he hates either me or driving.

6)  Pookie Jr, Jr. (younger stepson) turned 13 this summer and is now officially a young man and his voice is changing and he’s almost as tall as me and these kids keep growing up despite strict instructions not to do so.   Damnit.

7) Pookie, who was the most conservative looking guy in the free world when we met and married is now sporting a ponytail longer than mine.  I like it quite a bit, but prefer when it’s down and wild.   Like him.  Yum.

8)  I was walking through a doorway the other day and caught my pinkie toe on the door frame while the rest of my foot proceeded into the hallway.  Now, because I’m not very graceful (UNDERSTATEMENT!!), I’ve done this a million times and every other time, it hurts like fuck for 30 seconds and then goes away and everything is right with the world again.

This time, my pinkie toe stayed jacked out to the side, like a funny little thumb, only not at all funny.   Turns out I broke the fifth metatarsal bone in my foot, which as it also turns out, hurts.

I didn’t even get a cool cast for everyone to sign.  They buddy taped my pinky toe to it’s neighbor, gave me a little walking boot, and sent me on my way.

It was a little gratifying seeing even medical professionals catch a glimpse of my jacked out toe, make a face and say ‘glurgh’.

The toe is no longer jacked out, but I seem to recall asking Sarah to take a picture of my foot before I went to the doctor on  the theory that if this didn’t make me blog, nothing would.   I was totally right, it just took me a week to get around to it.   If such a picture exists, I’ll get around to posting it, if only so that I can imagine you all making that face and uttering ‘glurgh’

So that’s what’s up with me, what’s up with y’all?

What a Bee-yotch

Pooter got stung by a bee today.  It was very much not fun.  In his own words, “The bee looked dead in my pool but then it crawled on my hand. That was creepy!”.

He’s learned a very valuable lesson today, namely to use a cup when fishing out (allegedly) dead insects from the pool.   He also learned that bees are not necessarily going to be grateful that you’ve saved their lives.  In fact, they will immediately negate that saving of the life by stinging you and therefore killing themselves.

Bees are ornery little fuckers, is what I’m saying here.

Pooter was very brave…at first.  He pulled out the stinger (or the ‘barb’, as he calls it) himself, but it all went downhill after that.   Now this is a kid who not two weeks ago took a t-ball to the cheek and laughed, so he’s a pretty tough little booger.  Apparently, a bee sting on the pad of your thumb is way worse than a ball to the face.

For awhile there, he was convinced the pain would never end.   I wish now I’d videotaped the whole thing because you people would have been swept into the drama.  “Oh, Mother dear, when will this suffering be at an end?  Why, amongst all His children, has God forsaken me?”

Then after he made me call  various members of his fan club so he could update them on his condition, he pronounced himself all better and we went outside and played soccer in our flip-flops (ouchie toes!) and sprayed each other with the hose.

Honestly, I’m just glad he didn’t make me cart his little ass to the ER so he could get a cast on his thumb.  I’m not sure where he gets the dramatic streak, but I SWEAR TO GOD IN HEAVEN, I CAN’T BEAR IT MUCH LONGER!

(ACTING!)   <—That was going to link to a video of Jon Lovitz as The Master Thespian from Saturday Night Live.  I cannot find any such video in all of Youtube.  I’m a sad, sad girl.

Also, on a not related at all note: RIP-George Carlin.   I shall say dirty words often in the next few days in honor of you.

Okay, more often.

Pedantic fuckers.

Dear Pookie,

Happy Father’s Day, Motherfucker!

(Hee.)

I know I haven’t posted lately but I did have a few things I wanted to share with you all.

First, Pookie got some cool video editing software and has now leapt into the profitable world of YouTubing.   Of course, by profitable, I mean not at all, but he loves doing it.

This is my favorite so far (because I’m not in it).  It’s short and sweet, starring Baby Girl and The Poot.

Also, my friend Charlie sent me this thing for Father’s Day and it’s kinda late, I know, but maybe some of you could use it.  I’ve pasted it below:

With June 15th quickly approaching, Outback would like to help satisfy what all dad’s are craving this Father’s Day – food! If you bring dad to Outback on June 15, he’ll receive a $10 certificate valid on your next visit.  Dad will need to need to activate the certificate online at http://outback.com/dadsdaywhere he’ll also automatically be entered in an online sweepstakes to win a $100 gift card when they enter the promo code found on the bottom of the $10 certificate.

The certificate can be used at any Outback location from June 18^th– July 20^th with the minimum purchase of $25. You can learn more about this promotion and some of Outback’s new menu items by visiting: http://outback.com/.

That’s it for now, but I’ll be back soon because I got Fauve memed me (DAYS ago) and y’all know I can’t resist a meme.

Psyching out Big Brother

There is a young band from Manchester, England (called The Get Out Clause) who were having trouble putting the financing together to make their first video.  Then they came up with a unique and ingenious solution.

Apparently, there between 4 and 13 million closed circuit cameras in Britain, catching each person an estimated 300 times daily (link to one article).

The guys in the band went to 80 different places where they knew the cameras were operating, set up their instruments and performed.  They then requested all the footage under what the equivalent of our own Freedom of Information Act, The Data Protection Act.

After getting the footage, they got to editing and managed to come away with a pretty kick ass video.

Go here for the video because I am already taxing this poor old computer.

For a bit of extra irony, from the article linked above:  On the wall outside his former residence – flat number 27B – where Orwell lived until his death in 1950, an historical plaque commemorates the anti-authoritarian author. And within 200 yards of the flat, there are 32 CCTV cameras, scanning every move.

Yes, that Orwell.

Heh, Pookie just sent me another article, the headline for which was: Tens of Thousands of CCTV cameras, yet 80% of crime unsolved

The Official Mother’s Day Post of the 2008 Olympics

First off, I have a fully functioning computer again.  Not the laptop (pray for my baby, y’all), but Pookie has this old desktop up and running very well.   He gave me back my Youtube, which I’d been jonesing for ever since Neil Diamond was the mentor on American Idol.

Y’all might recall that I have had a crush on Mr. Diamond for quite some time.  I may even have referred to him as being ‘elderly hott’.   I continue to feel that way.   I continue to be mostly unashamed of that fact.

ANYWAY.

Saturday is my oldest’s birthday.  Nate will be 21, which since he’s a soldier, means he will now be able to legally drink all the alcohol he was gonna drink anyway.  Y’all feel free to give him a little shout-out,since he has no minutes on his go-phone, apparently, and I won’t be able to talk to him and there’s a chance that his birthday card won’t get there in time.

Also, Pookie’s birthday is on Monday.  He will be 45, which is pretty much the perfect age for a man to be.  Happy Birthday, Pookie!  I won’t spoil the surprise, but your presents will be sex and meatloaf (not necessarily in that order) (but maybe).

On to Mother’s Day:

I thought I’d share a couple of my favorite memories of my mother, and I thought if anyone else felt like it, they could share their memories.  Of their mother.  Share their memories of their mother.  Not my mother.   Unless it’s one of my brothers, in which case their mother is my mother.

Ok, this first one I might have already told y’all, but I’m gonna tell it again.   My mother and I were in her room. She was sitting on the bed and I was lying across the end of it.  The radio was on and she was reading a book while I half listened to the radio and half daydreamed.

Randy Newman’s Short People Ain’t Got No Reason To Live (click link for video) came on and after a few seconds I started giggling.  I was about 10 at the time and was a little taller than my mother.  I had gotten great entertainment out of being taller than her and this song always tickled me.

So I’m giggling and it’s getting harder to pretend I’m not.  Soon enough I was laughing my smart little ass off and my mother, who had been trying to maintain her dignity, gave up and kicked me off the bed.  Literally.  With her foot.  Off the bed.

Apparently short people have freakishly strong legs and feet.

Anyway, the reason it’s one of my favorites is the look on my mother’s face when she booted me and I hit the floor.  Half shocked, half pleased.  Then she started laughing too.

I ended up reaching a height of 5’10”, to her 5’3” and I made sure I was always out of kicking distance when that song came on, because there was no way I’d be able to keep from laughing.

My other favorite memory of my mother is a little strange because she was FURIOUS with me at the time and would gladly have kicked me again, only this time with steel toe boots, if she’d been able to catch me.

This story takes place when all my mother’s children were grown folks, for the record.

Me and two of my brothers had managed to piss her off very, very badly.  I don’t remember how, but the reason isn’t important.  My mother was…fiery, I guess you could say.  It didn’t take much to piss her off.   It also didn’t take much to make her cry.  So more passionate than fiery, I suppose.

Anyway, she was angry and we, like Matt Lauer, were being very flippant about it.   We thought the tiny screaming woman was hilarious, frankly.    She finally picked up the candelabra off the piano (really.) and took to chasing us around the house with it.

Seriously.

So she chased and we ran.  We had to stop and catch our breath several times as it is really exhausting to run and laugh harder than you’ve ever laughed in your life at the same time.   Of course, stopping to catch our breath allowed her to catch up with us, so she’d be right up on us, we’d be giggling and panting, we’d spot her and scream and take off again.

It was awesome.

And eventually, the humor of it all filtered into her rage filled brain and she finally stopped trying to kill us all dead.

The moral of these stories is that if you could get my mother laughing, it was all gonna be just fine.

This was a strategy we employed quite a bit as children, by the way.  We managed to talk her out of many asswhippings using this method.  Thank God she was an easy laugher and not real inclined to beat her children.  As a result, I personally, got 85% less asswhippings than I deserved.

So, what’s your favorite memory of your Mom?