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 18th– July 20th 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.

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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?

High and Lows

Cloud:  My laptop is in critical condition. Apparently it needs a new hard drive, so I now I have to wait for some poor family to lose their laptop so that my laptop may live.  It’s just all so sad.

Silver Lining:  The extra desktop computer we have works just fine (except for no flash thingie) so except for Youtube, I can still do all my favorite online stuff while we wait for an organ donor.

Cloud:  Last night, Little Man’s t-ball team was demolished by a team called The Chaserz.   With a fucking Z. I blame the parentz.  Fuckerz.

Silver lining:  We get another chance at victory tonight.  Hopefully we’ll be playing the Fluffy Bunniez or the Throw Like a Girlz.

Cloud:  We is some broke mofos this week.

Silver lining:  Tomorrow is another day and so far no one’s been forced to root for turnips in the garden.  Which is good, because we don’t have a garden and if we did, we damn sure wouldn’t be planting turnips.

Cloud:  I’m pretty sure I’m experiencing the most drawn out weepy case of PMS the world has ever seen.

Silver lining:  What fucking silver lining?  There is NO silver lining and you can kiss my ass if you think there might be.   (Pray for my family y’all.)

How’s your week going?

Yup, that’s my kid

Little man has an awful spring cold (after having made it through winter without so much as a case of the sniffles.

The other night, he started coughing something fierce at about 10:30 and his Dad went to give him some medicine.  I handed him my water glass as he passed by so that Pooter could have a sip of something to wash the taste of the medicine out of his mouth.

Pookie goes to give him the medicine and it’s, ‘But it’s red! What if it gets on my sheets?’

After he takes the medicine and Pookie offers him a drink, it’s ‘But it’s a glass! Made of glass!  What if it breaks?’

Little did he know that I was in the living room worrying about those VERY SAME THINGS.

Also, I accidently made my kid scared of bugs.  To a fairly unreasonable degree.   So now I’m trying to be braver about bugs so I can set a better example

(although, I was a grooming a dog the other day and it’s (male) owner was helping me when I noticed a bumblebee flitting about and I informed my customer that I was not going to be able to finish his dog if that CREATURE was in the room.  Don’t tell PETA, but he didn’t exactly catch the bee gently and give it a little air kiss as it flew off outside.)

Pooter’s getting better though.  Yesterday, he was watching some ants do their thing and did not freak the fuck out that an ANT MIGHT BITE ME, AGGGHHHH.

Then today, he actually brought me a bug and a caterpillar to see.  Sadly only one of them made it to me alive.  Sorry, little generic squashed bug.  As you were the first bug he ever voluntarily touched, he did not know his own strength.  Please know that you gave your life for a noble cause, namely; my kid not getting his ass kicked by other kids for being a wuss.

I’m happy to note that the caterpillar is alive and intact.  Maybe a little annoyed and disheveled, but alive!

Here’s to progress!  Maybe I won’t have to actually touch a bug myself to help him get over it.   That would be awesome.

Sure we still suck, but not as much as the real Rangers

See that kid there?   His team won a game for the first time tonight.   11-5.  He himself did an awesome job of running the bases, bringing one of his teammates home for a run and scoring a run of his own.  We’re very proud because before this game, his usual method of rounding the bases involved more  ‘meandering’ or  ‘frolicking’ than  actual running.

As you can see, he plays for The Rangers.  The opposing team was The ‘Lil Diggers’.

Yeah, they’re still trying to dig out of that hole we dug for ’em.  Heh.  I iz a good winner!

(also, one of the little fuckers hit me in the head with a ball.)

Still; baseball flung at head < shooting oneself in head = bring on the baseballs, baby!

We celebrated out victory with a visit to DQ, where we consumed many calories and congratulated ourselves heartily.

Next, I bet they change the sign to say ‘Pubic Library’

Reading is fundamental!

Recently, we went to our local public library so Little Man could pick up some new reading material (My kid can READ, y’all. Like, really read. Like, better than most 5th graders).

One of the books he picked out was called Your Pet Beaver. Now it sounds a little dirty, but we didn’t notice then because he also picked out Your Pet Bear and there are other animals in the series (camel, elephant, giraffe, etc.)

Then.  THEN.  I read the book to Little Man that night before bed.   Oh my Lord.

Here are some excerpts from Your Pet Beaver by Bobbie Hamsa.

1) “Grooming a beaver is rather fun.”     Ok, so you have to be a bit of a perv to think that’s dirty, but as it turns out, I’m a bit of a perv.

2) “Your beaver will need a big wet place to live.” Still a little innocuous, but it’s getting better.

3) “Your beaver is a lot like you- clean, polite and friendly.” My beaver and I are both boy scouts, apparently.

4)  “You’ll notice your beaver rests all day. And fools around all night. That’s nice. Because if you can’t get to sleep, you’ll have an instant playmate.”   OMG.    At this point, Pookie was literally ROFL.  And I don’t use the word literally figuratively.  The poor man was on the floor, rolling around, laughing.

5)  “Your pet loves exercise.  {redacted boring (not dirty) stuff} And it loves all water sports, especially “Submarine.” It was at this point that my head exploded, which only made Pookie laugh harder.

6)  “Your beaver is eager to make itself useful.  Cracking nuts…repairing fallen plaster…making mud pies…spanking naughty dolls…and shaping hamburgers for Dad.” I’m honestly not sure which imagery disturbs me more, but I think it might be the idea of my beaver shaping hamburgers for Dad.  That just sounds…unsanitary. I think the imagery Pookie might find most disturbing is the idea of my beaver cracking nuts.

Also, Spanking Naughty Dolls would be a good name for a rock band.

This book was published in 1980 and I happen to know that word ‘beaver’ was heavily in use as a synonym for, well…YOU KNOW.   Don’t make me say it for God’s sake. I’ve been talking about beavers this whole time and I don’t think I can say another filthy thing. (EAR SEX!)

Anyway, my point was that at some point, the author of this book must have known what it would sound like.

I’m willing to bet she giggled and snickered and snorted  her way through the whole book.

Just like me. And my pet beaver.