Random Bits of Pomposity

.......

2010-06-06T03:10:00.008-04:00

Thinkin' 'bout it...

Lil T...

2007-12-14T20:34:00.000-05:00

...and some of the coonass critters want to wish you and your's an awesome, elfin' holiday season!
Click to watch, turn up the sound, then go ELF yourself!

Still Alive

2007-11-02T23:56:00.001-05:00

And turnt fawty five!

No enthusiasm for bloggin' (readin' or writin'), but I do appreciate those of you that continue to check in on me.
Thanx!

Under Construction

2007-09-21T17:31:00.000-04:00

A new bloggy spot for me to share some of the bazillion digital images that I capture.
Drop by, comment, critique, criticize if you must. Just be nice about it dammit! Its therapy (kinda) for me doncha know!

p.s. Mia, shaddup already! I fixed it ya' blog ho!

For "Kudzu" updated

2007-09-12T00:19:00.000-04:00

In case ya' needa new header. *wink*

No, I Didn't Forget

2007-09-12T00:06:00.000-04:00

I'll never forget exactly where I was...the disbelief and terror that unfolded before my very eyes... I just don't have much to say.
Gone is the white-hot fury I've felt in the past, replaced by an on-going hatred of animals that we should never submit to.

I lowered my flag to half mast, said a prayer for those that perished, and extra kudos for those that went down fighting. ("Let's roll!!!")

God bless 'em all.

Caught My Eye...

2007-09-07T01:05:00.000-04:00

...captured by my lens.
Make with the clicky to embiggen 'cause they look betta bigger.
~_~

Feeling a "Hummer's" heartbeat...

2007-09-05T01:16:00.000-04:00

...is cool as shit.
Having said "Hummer" crap in one's hand is not so cool, but seein' as "Hummer" crap is like...the size of a pin-head, I think I can hang.
Isn't he (yes, thas a male), awesome?!

I haven't been bloggin' 'cause...

2007-09-01T00:47:00.000-04:00

I won tha lottery!!!

Not really. Thas a lie. I just have cancer. After 6 years of remmission, Hodgkin's has decided to revisit mah ass.

For weeks, I've dealt with the denial, anger... blah, blah, blah, that comes with the diagnosis of a life-threatening illness.
I've been petrified, had panic attacks, and lied (by omission), to my children.
I stopped working, connecting with my "Soldier Babies", photography, my social work in the community, and became one depressed mother fucker.
I wallowed in self pity.
All of that is DONE.
While I'm not sure how much I will blog about this part of my life journey, know that I am now calm, assured, and comfortable, and that I have a treatment strategy.
I have changed my diet (green, leafy vegetables still suck!), cut waaaay back on my smokin' and drinkin', and meditate daily,in an attempt just to chill tha fuck out.
I'm good, just not real chatty in the "blog world."

Contemplation of the day:
Cut off 18 inch, amber tresses, and send to "Locks of Love", or wait it out. Chemo is a BITCH.

Happy, happy...

2007-07-11T23:30:00.000-04:00

...and how blessed could I be...

...for under my roof, both my boys and me!

Kris has been back from the Sandbox for a few weeks, and finally managed to make it to Mississloppy to see his momma, and to torment his younger brother.
As I type this, both boys are in the living room, and da Marine is sling-shotting (sling-shooting?) cherry pits at the crip's exposed flesh. (Wes is doing very well in his recovery. Thanks so much for the e-mails and prayers!)

"Owww!"

"Shut up, pussy."

"Owwwww!!!
"Moooom!!! Kris won't leave me alone!"

Ahhh. Just like tha good ole days.
More later when I'm not cookin' for,smooshy kissin', and all around spoilin' my boyz.

Rest in Peace

2007-06-26T01:44:00.000-04:00

ROBERT MARION SMITH

A.K.A., "ACIDMAN"

February 16,1952-June 26, 2006

I miss you, my dear friend.
This world is less interesting without you in it.

'Til we meet again...

"Westley...

2007-06-25T00:34:00.000-04:00

...here's the (hand-held), urinal."
"No", says the chile, while reclining on the couch.

"Why not?", says tha motha.

"Because you could come in here and see me!"

"Sweetheart", says tha motha, "I can't possibly be here to help you to the "head" every time you need to urinate. You're going to break your other arm doing that one-legged, bunny hop thing. And by the by, I've seen your penis, many times. Recently, as a matter of fact."

"Mooom!!!"

"Whaaat?! Hey, look, if nothing else, it's much bigger than I remember it. You should be proud."

"MOM!!!"

The motha ducks as the chile pitches a bottle of Loritabs in her direction. (Since he's handicrapped, he pitches with his left hand, very much like a girl. He misses.)
The motha goes to take some pictures.
Enjoy.
(Click to embiggin. Look much betta bigga.)

I wasn't going to blog about this...

2007-06-20T00:18:00.000-04:00

..., but what the hell. It keeps replaying in my mind, over and over again, like a bad movie...
Eleven days ago, my son (youngest child), was involved in a car accident, and I was arrested.

"Mom T.! Some guy just hit us! Wes is hurt! I called 911, but he wants you! Come quick!"
Wes' friend, Joshua was hysterical.
He told me where they were...hell...they'd just left the freakin' house! E.T.A., five minutes, tops. I think I made it in three.
When I got there, P.D., First Response, F.D., and one "bus" (ambulance), had responded.
Wes had been extracted from the right side of the vehicle (point of impact), was prone on an L.S.B. (long spine board), on the scorching asphalt, and on high-flow O2. Two large bore I.V.'s had been started by the paramedic, and an E.M.T. was cutting away the last of his clothing.
"I'm his mother, and a paramedic! MOVE!"

My son...my baby...suffered fractures of the right tib/fib bones, a shattered patella, fractures of the right ulna and radius, multiple contusions of the face, and his eyes were in the process of blackening, from airbag deployment.

After Wes had been "packaged" and loaded onto the bus, I turned to see the drunken bastard that had hit them, handcuffed, and leaning against the back of another bus, being treated for superficial wounds.
As a paramedic for nine years in New Orleans, I'd witnessed this scenario, oh so many times before; law-abiding, innocents...broken...sometimes dead, and the drunks responsible, left largely unscathed.

I paused...but for a few seconds, then strode, calmly, and without haste, towards the perp. The attending officer was involved in his (seemingly), endless report of the incident, and the attending E.M.T. was reaching for another gauze, when I punched the sonofabitch, dead in the face.
I broke his nose.
He was lucky, as was I, in retrospect. My first impulse was to retrieve the .357 I keep under the seat of my vehicle.
It was a stupid, impulsive act, I know, but yet, I don't regret it.

Wes is progressing in his recovery, albeit slowly. His utmost concern is that he knows he won't be able to enlist in the U.S.M.C. on his birthday, 11 July.
As for me, I'm most grateful he's still here with me.

Forgive my abrupt departure...

2007-06-05T23:37:00.000-04:00

...from last nite's post. I'd simply reached my "end", and fell asleep without even turning out the lights.
My somnambulism and insomnia have been fighting a battle royal with my consciousness lately, and regardless the victor of the eve, I suffer.
For a long time, 50 mg. of diphenhydramine (Benadryl), would be enough to send me drifting, and eventually off into R.E.M. stage sleep. I'd average 6 hours a night (at least some of it deep), and I rarely "walked" unless under a lot of stress. That changed a few years ago.
I started walking...a lot. I'd have conversations, and sometimes attempt to leave the house.
My dok figgered my "chemistry" had changed, and the Benadryl was no longer working. And so, the experimentation began.
First, I tried varied, prescribed antihistamines. Most would put me out for a while, but I'd still wake to find a shoe in the 'fridge, lights ablaze, or make-up on half my face.
Last year, Dok prescribed Lunesta. Do ya'll remember?! I dosed myself in my freakin' sleep! I'm lucky to be alive.
Then, he gave me Ambian. No go, Daddy O! Naked, in the kitchen, at 2 a.m., eating cantaloupe. When I relayed that tale, he laughed.
"Ohmahgawd! I did the same thing! 'Cept it was brownies, and Amy (his wife), found me chowin' down."
"Well, thanks alot, shit-for-brains"(Dok is my neighbor, and we're on a first name basis, so it's ok for me to call him "shit-for-brains"). "Why tha fuck did you give it to me?!"
I gotta weed-smokin', hippy friend that suggested Melatonin.
"Ya' gotta go natural, dooood."
Riiiight. That shit gave me nightmares, ya' hea me?! I dreamt of havin' relations with my maid-fuckin', X huzband. And he was a Democrat!!!
The latest is Xanax. Now, Xanax is usually prescribed for anxiety disorders, but it will put yer ass to sleep. It worked great, for two days.

Did I mention I eat when I "walk"? For this reason, I keep snacks in my bedside drawer. Even tho asleep, my mind knows Goldfish, chocolate covered cashews, and Dots candies are at hand.
I woke this morning with a Dot stuck to mah ass.
It was a red Dot.
Red Dots are my favorite.
I ate it.

I think I'll give the Xanax to my weed-smokin', hippy friend.

The Toshiba Satelite A100/A150 Series Laptop...

2007-06-04T23:56:00.000-04:00

...is a worthless piece of shit. Unless that is, you feel the need to go all Naomi Campbell on someone's ass. It makes for one helluva weapon when flung, closed and non-attached to an electrical source. Trust me.

Wes and I have been out of town again, (Great having him with me. While he can't do recovery, he damn sure can go fetch my refills and tote my chit to the site.), and mostly without a 'puter. For three days we were in a crappy motel that had no net service, but after moving to a different site (and a different motel with net), ye ole Toshiba refused to co-operate. I'd either get a fukked up screen when trying to boot, or it would boot, then heat up within a matter of minutes, and shut down on it's own. After two days of that crap, I gave up.

Now, some of you may remember that this happened the first time when said laptop was less than 6 months old. When I called the customer service center, the rep., (barely-English-speakin'-Pakistani-mother-fucker), knew what the problemo was, as he promptly assured me that as it was "still under warranty, the motherboard will be replaced, no charge."
After returning home, I called 'em again. Not so accommodating this time.
"We are veddy sowwy Mizzez Coonass, but your unit is no longer under warranty. If you would to pleaze send it back, with an initial payment of $425., we will replace the needed parts."
My response:
"Fuck you. Take my "unit" and your unit, and shove it where tha sun don't shine! Toshiba clearly knows this is a recurring problem, but you offer me nothing! Not even an extension of a warranty that is a mere 30 days out of date!"
If a Google search gives only a few folks pause to purchasing this piece of crap, I'll be happy.
To be continued...

'Cause I like to show off...

2007-05-22T23:31:00.000-04:00

...and my chilrens are so awesome, I share with you my Mother's Day gift.

Is that schweeeeet, or wut?!

Those hummingbird pics I posted last year 'round 'bout this time were taken with a Sony Cybershot, so I can't wait to see what I can do with this one. (Sony is Minolta in disguise, doncha' know.)
If you're interested in the 'specs, go here.

A very belated Happy Mother's Day to all you mothas out there!

My bloggy momma...

2007-05-22T23:13:00.000-04:00

...the lovely LL, of Chromed Curses, ROKS, ya' hea me?!
My comment thingy was broked, and after a nano-second of searching for a cure (start mentioning template changes, and I get hives), I e-mailed her.
"Hep me please!"

Now, I dunno how it got fukked up to begin with (I hardly eva changed settings), but give that tenacious chick a blog problem, and she's on it like white on rice.
She's like a pit bull chewin' on a small chile. Won't stop till she gets to the heart of it...so to speak.

All fixed, and I thank ya' Wen. Yer so niiiiice.

Life Interrupts

2007-05-13T23:28:00.000-04:00

*Knock, knock*! Anybody hea?
I hear an echo.

Wes (youngest chile), and I have been out of town for quite a bit, and I've been 'puter-less for the most part. (Piece o' SHIT Toshiba laptop started heatin' up on me, AGAIN, and tends to scorch tha thighs after 20 min. or so. I can think of much more pleasurable ways to warm up mah thighs, tyvm. Fuckin' lemon.)

Anywho, I was guilted into donating some dive time by my best dive buddy ( and the only man I trust with my life unda water), Mark, to do some environmental recovery chit down in tha deep south. From Slidell, Looosiana to Gulfport, Mississloppy (covering over 26 miles of the gulf coast), Mark, some other fearless "frogs" and myself, hit seven marinas, logged over 20 hours of down-time, and managed to salvage miles of rigging, a few hundred pounds of cleats, winches and what not, and bag-lifted twelve sets of aluminum masts, and as many diesel, oil-leakin' engines.
Oh so much fun. Noooooot. 'Specially tha pawt when my regulator failed. Woo hoo!!!

There was however, a highlight to the last three weeks. I was able to witness, with utmost pride, Wes become a certified, P.A.D.I., open water diver. I've been working with him on pool skills for months, and he did his academics on-line with his instructor (down in Gulfport).
"Time to prove yer mettle, small fry!"
We chartered a boat, and motored out a few miles in search of the required 60 ft. depth.
"Mom, please don't go down. I'm nervous enough as it is."
"Sure, baby. Focus, remember to breathe, and you'll do fine."
I smiled, gave a "thumbs down" (dive sign language for, "going down"),as my chile disappeared into the murky chop, and then (of course...duh.), donned my gear, and headed down the anchor line to watch.
I hovered, ten feet above, and ten feet behind him as he executed his skills (flooding of mask, regulator retrival, hovering, etc.), flawlessly.
Dive two went just as well, and as they were wrapping things up, I banged on my tank with my knife to get his attention, and gave him an enthusiastic, "A-OK!"
He was grinnin' like an idiot, and I was tickled to death.
With a bit of air to burn, we tooled around a bit, checked out the critters n such, and then ('cause I did it to his brotha too), I snuck up behind him, and cut off his air.
Welcome to my atmosphere, tadpole!

Dammit!

2007-04-19T23:55:00.000-04:00

I was so close to finishing up with the Pergo, without mishap, till I got to the last closet off the hallway.
I think I mentioned before that I chose to rip out, and replace the old floorboards (in all rooms), with something a lil more...elegant. In cramped spaces, its much more efficient to rip out the old stuff, lay the wood, and then nail in the new floorboards. Trust me.

So, anywho, I'm crunched into this lil space with my trusty crowbar and mallet, pryin' that old chit off, whistlin,' "I've Been Werkin' On The Railroooooad", when...."Wut tha fuck?!" I feel mah ass, not only cold from the concrete, but WET!
This can't be good. There is water, oozin' out, two fukkin' feet from hundreds of dollars worth of hardwood!

I'm alone in tha coonass crib, so I jump tha fuck up, run for a cresent wrench, and haul ass out to the water main to shut it off, only to be greeted by "Momma Black Widda", and her precious "pod" of unborn killas.
FUCK!

Lil T don't sprint so good (try it with fawty D tits!), but sprint I did. Spectricide was in tha garage, and I needed it. (That stuff is da BOMB, peeps! Its advertised as a "flying insect killer", but it's chemical composition ELECTROCUTES just about any critter, in.it's.tracks.

Spectricide in hand...run, run, run! Assassinate killas! Turn off water. Return to crib to assess damage.

Apparently, when I nail-gunned in the original floorboards (a few years ago), I punctured a copper waterline behind the sheetrock. Luckily, the nail didn't pass entirely through the two inch pipe. Equally lucky, the blunt force of nail gunning (as apposed to hand-hammering) "forced" the copper to mold around the nail, and prevented leakage...'til a few days ago. Ugh.

Now, I know how to solder (natch!), but the hole was way tha fuck down by the foundation, and awfully close to a wooden stud. For the life of me, I couldn't figger out how to get 'round the back of the pipe without burning down mah crib.

One hour, and eighty bucks later, "Buttcrack Bob the Plumber" (eva notice, most plumber, carpenter-types always bees showin' they crack?) had me hooked up and ready to roll. (Thankie, "Buttcrack Bob"!)

I patched the hole in the sheetrock mah ownseff. Ain't I talented?! Maybe I should trade in my fins and tanks for a toolbelt and some low-slung britches. I do have a most awesome buttcrack.

I'm Confused

2007-04-17T16:22:00.000-04:00

I tuned into Fox when I got in this afternoon. I wanted to see the "latest" on the horrible events of yesterday at Virginia Tech. The colors were being presented, as the convocation was underway.

A few speeches were delivered, one very touching from our Commander in Chief. (I hope the pres' speech writers are well paid, 'cause they do a damn fine job.)

At any rate, shortly thereafter some old chick in glasses proceeded to deliver a well-known "...time to reap, time to sow..." poem that was, translated into (I believe), Arabic (?!). WUT. THA. FUCK?

Then, an old, bearded dood started calling upon Alllahhh, as "from Allah we come, and to him we shall return."
I repeat, WUT. THA. FUCK?!

Has there been a large influx of Moooslums into Virginia that I was not aware of? Did Virginia become an Islamo-wacko state when I wasn't looking?

Please, someone bring me up to speed, 'cause apparently, I missed somethin'.

Oh So Cute!

2007-04-12T14:59:00.000-04:00

Not so cute:

"Ma! I'm transferring $$$$$ (a nice chunka change) for you to...(do something with). I reenlisted!"

Deep breaths, Toni. Deeeep breaths.

Pimp Yerseff!

2007-04-12T14:31:00.000-04:00

At least thirty folks (I know, I'm oh sooo popular), drop my this dive at least once a day. (Thanks!) Some of you I "know", some of you I'd like to know betta! Here's your chance. Tell me who you ARE! Where do you live? Why do you come hea'? (Lawd knows I haven't posted any half-nekkiditty for a while, so WHO knows!) Ask me questions you've been just dyin' to have answered! (I'm far from shy, and Pomposity IS in mah header, ya' know.)

If not, I haven't done one of these for a while, and it is a bit different but, WHAT AM I?

As for me, I'm buzzzzy! I've got multiple dive jobs goin' on ova in 'Bama, and when I'm not there, I'm heavily into the "Genuflection Dance", AKA, layin' hardwood.

Forgive me folks, for not visiting your spots. I'll try to do better. *kizzes*

As it does on water...

2007-04-05T15:23:00.001-04:00

...sound travels on country winds; a fact that my neighbor, Mrs. Mc Pigsty is apparently unaware of.

Overheard this morning from beyond my wooden fence: "I HATE those damn windchimes! "Clang! Clang! Clang!", day and night!"

Gotta be me. There are only three houses on our cul-de-sak, and mine is the only one with chimes.

Geesh, Louise! Bitchin' 'bout chimes that make about as much noise as a fairy peein'!

Sooo, chimes piss ya' off Mizzrizz Piggy? Off to the garage for me!
*Rummage, rummage* Found 'em!

Why would I do something so mean-spirited? 'Cause iffin' I don't like ya', I can be a complete, and utter asshole.

Werd!

Whew!

2007-04-03T22:40:00.000-04:00

I've been so buzy!
Hi everyone! Guess wut?! I gots new TOYS!

See my saw?! It is too a saw!
Took me a while to figger out how to get it outta that...packing crate (?),and assemble it, but I did.

Ain't it a purdy saw? I lurv my saw. I wanna saw all day. (Keep sayin' it Toni. You'll eventually convince yourseff.)
Like my otha saw?
This baby ROKS! Not one speck of sawdust! (Embiggin' if ya' don't believe me.) Its a plunge saw (for those of you that don't "do" tools), and with it one can cut anything almost all the way through, on a flat surface...great for flooring.
Did I say "flooring"? Can Toni rock some flooring, or what?! And on a 45 degree angle, I might add.

So it took me a week! Shaddup! I gotta regular (kinda') yob, ya' know!
Two rooms down. (If a looong ass hallway isn't considered a "room", it should be!) Three big ones to go. All in teak. I'm stoked.

Wes' room before.

And after.

Compliment me, please. I need motivation.

Les See...

2007-03-25T00:59:00.000-04:00

...just how much pogie bait (snax), and otha goodies I can stuff into that flat-rate box, destined for a studdly, deployed ("adopted babie"), Soldier.
(Yea, I cut those bitches open, and modify 'em. Only way to efficiently cram them mothas. I think I hold a record of sorts...13#'s!)
(Click for larger versions.)
Layering is the key (invert tuna/cracker paks, fill spaces), and stuffin' every.single.inch with candies, single-use, drink mixes, n such. I also remove granola bars, popcorn and the like from the original boxes.
Liquor? What liquor? I don't see no stinkin' liquor!

Packaged pepperoni makes for good cushion for non-existant liquor (I leave a lil air in the ziplok too), and mmmmm...M&M's don't melt in the rising heat!

Tossed in a letta, recent pic, popcorn, more candies, and a self-addressed envelope (if mah "baby" has a minnit to respond), and that's purdy much it for this box.

Chili din't fit, and the mints woulda prolly been mush anyways.
*Sniff*. Lil ova 10 pounds. I'm loosin' mah touch!

On tha waaaay, Cav Scout! Lil T luvs ya'!

132.15.225.# (Kadena Air Base)

2007-03-19T23:52:00.000-04:00

Who are you? Yer feakin' me out.

Was It Wrong Of Me...

2007-03-16T15:25:00.000-04:00

...to collect every plastic grocery bag, paper plate, Coors can, shit encrusted baby wipe, balloon remnant, children's drawing, mailing envelope and newspaper, found adrift in MY MOTHA FUKKIN' YARD, and stuck to MY MOTHA FUKKIN' FENCE, bag it all up, and deposit it in the rightful owner's driveway?

I hate that bitch. I watched her leave this morning, driving right past the over-turned can, but did she do the right thing? Haul her fat, lard ass butt outta her S.U.V. and PICK THAT SHIT UP?! Nooooooo.
Same goes for all the damn toys she leaves in her front yard every.single.day. Looks like a got damn daycare center over there.
The people on the other side do the same thing. Between the two houses, they have 9 kids. Bikes, Barbie cars, kiddie 4X4s, skateboards, balls, jungle gyms, scooters, are EVERYWHERE, every.single.day. PICK THAT SHIT UP! Its not like they don't have FENCED IN YARDS.

Arghhhhhhhh!!!!

I'm tired, and cranky. Can ya' tell?

Stark Reality...

2007-03-03T13:28:00.000-05:00

...from the front, via Pat Dollard.
Watch it, then click on Any Soldier here, and show them that you care.

This N That

2007-03-03T01:17:00.000-05:00

I really am tearin' up carpet, painting, and laying hardwood floors...my ownseff, so I haven't had much time for bloggin'.
My faithful group (all eleven of ya'), keep droppin' by, but have naught to say, and I don't blame 'ya. I am a bad, bad blogger. Sumbunny spank me. Please!
I got pulled over yesterday; prolly for the hundredth time in my life, but yesterday was different in that I actually got a ticket! It saddened me, peoples. "You've lost "it" T. Tha sight of yer big, heavin' bosoms don't work no mo." *sigh* "Ma'am"...(I HATE when someone calls me "ma'am"! I look for my mother!), your license is expired." "Whaaaa?"
So, Jr. Policeman runs mah shit, finds NOTHING, and writes me anyway. Fukker.

I went to the "Office of Old People Fuck Faster", AKA...the DMV, to get "legal" today. Being one that tends to follow the rules, and make shit move in a timely fashion, I read the two dozen, hand-written, "notes" taped to the walls before approaching the desk. I surmised that I was actually entitled to "take a number", don't have to "sign in" (oh Lawdy), and take my seat. It is 3:30, in the afternoon. The outer office is FLOODED with chillins lookin' to add to the death-toll in Mississloppy, and mammas that can't provide appropriate information for said chillins; "I don't know where his daddy be. Where can I get his S.S. cawd?"
I SWEAR, I heard this more than once.
I am called in, "Numba 26!", after 30 minutes or so. The clerk, without a glance at me, says, "Old license,please.", then moves back to her desk, back to me, "Address still the same?" "Yes." "Step over to the officer for your pitcher." Ooooook. New license issued. No restrictions! No mention of the fact that I now wear GLASSES. Oh! And LOOK! I still weigh 117 pounds!! Yayyy!!!
In other news; I'm now officially OLD. New specticals (not just "readers"), picked up today. Check it. Tres' chic, no?
Yea...I can pack sum sammiches in those Ziploks below my eyes. Shaddup! I'm fawty-four yeas old!
I'm off to snort polyurethane and sealants.
Ya'll have a great week-end!

"Dude...

2007-02-27T12:51:00.000-05:00

...can I stay at your crib? For like...a week or so?"
.......
"I think "The Ancient One" is gettin' old timers disease. You know, like when they start trippin' and droolin' and doin' crap that ain't exactly....normal?
.......
"I was kinda' down with the idea of her finishing the upstairs...kickin' place for us to chill and game, ya' know, but dang! DAYS of sawin' and bangin' and nailin' gets onna guy's nerves, ya' know?!"
.......
"Well then, she decided there was "deep cleaning" to be done, dude. She borrowed Slim Willie's momma's carpet-vac, and went ballistic! Dude, you ever watch The Brady Bunch on TV Land?! She was like Alice...ON CRACK! When she wasn't workin', she was steam vacuuming! Dude! You know she don't "do" mornin's, so for three days it was..."varoooooooommmmmmmmm", till like two ahem!"
.......
"I know, dude! I like, plugged myself into Linkin Park with my headpods, to drown that shit out ya' know... but then, she got to MY room! "Get out. I need to steam clean." Her eyes were like...glazed, dude. I left."
.......
"When I got back from the Y....worked my guns, dude! I'm soooo ripped! Dude! You SUCK! Yea, so, I get back, and I'm like, "wtf?!". Some of my shit is in the dining room. Some of my shit is in the den. Some of my shit is in tha damn foyer! And dude! I have no carpet!!! "The Ancient One" ripped my shit out! Took out tha baseboards...the trim...EVERYTHING! I'm walkin' on, like...concrete! Except for a gay-ass remnant of MAUVE carpet left over from her room."

.......
"Dude, I know, but shit! Last time I looked, she was in the garage...tyin' up the old floorboards with 50/50 cord, and muttering, in the general direction of one of her maniacal table saws..."I can do better..." .
.......
"Dude...she says Imma pig. She's gonna lay hardwood floors. Her own self. I'm so outta hea."
.......
"Hey! She's comin'! And she's got a mallet! Ya'll got any bologna?"

No Knocks

2007-02-07T23:43:00.000-05:00

Thank God.
Due to my eldest chile's M.O.S.(Military Occupational Specialty), I never know where he is; 'sept that he is deployed, in Wak Iraq.
Hell, even if he knew where he would be, on any given day, he wouldn't tell me.
"Common Ma! You know me, Brad n "Mathilda"{(his weapon) (read why here)}, beees waltzin'!"
*sigh*
"Hey MSfuckin'M! Think you could refrain from reporting on THIS SHIT for at least 24?!"
Don't those motherfuckers have any idea how heart-wrenchingly difficult it is for parents, husbands, wives, lovers, etc. to read that shit?! How hearts skip beats every time a car passes on the lane outside? How it feels to lie in the erie, quiet of the night, sleepless, knowing that a Marine or soldier (that might be your child), has died?! How it feels to WAIT?!
No knocks.
Would you pray with me?
Thanks.

I Hate Dum People

2007-02-04T15:34:00.000-05:00

Overheard at the meat counter this morning; "I wish they made racks of babyback ribs bigger. I always have to buy two to feed the three of us."

??????????????????????????????????
Then, there's this gem.

Travel A Lot?

2007-02-03T16:45:00.000-05:00

Do you tire of those pesky, nosey, lookie-loos that can't seem to keep their eyes off of your computer screen while you serf for porn or catch up on e-mail correspondence?
Don't you just hate it when you bust 'em for lookin' with a whithering gaze and they try to act all innocent n chit?
Well friends, revenge is YOURS, and boredom at the airport is a thing of the past!
Merely mutter something catchy under your breath...oh, I dunno..."Allah akbar!" comes to mind. Then, click on this link.
Ahhh, merriment ensues. Enjoy!

Disheartened

2007-01-31T22:53:00.000-05:00

I had to go to the "pound" today, and it bummed me tha fuck out.
Two eves ago, I heard a faint "meow" beyond the back door, and looked out to see the blackest lil mini-cat, adorned with a lone, white whisker, golden eyes ablaze.
It was freezing outside! I took her in.
She was/is precious, and quite unlike any kitten I've ever owned; quiet, passive and laid-back (chilled in Wes' room for two days without a peep).
Unfortunately, I just didn't feel as though I could take on another four-legged creature in the coonass crib. I have 3 dogs, the notorious "Mittens" the cat, and two huge parrots. Vet bills (particularly for the latter), can become outragious, and frankly, I sometimes don't have time for the critters I have.
After asking everyone I know, "Gotta home for this adorable kitty?!", I felt I had no choice.
I'm sucha wimp. I cried when I signed over the kitty at the S.P.C.A., knowing she doesn't have much of a chance at adoption. She's not vocal at all, so won't "meow" plaintively to those in search of a pet. She's mellow, and all three times I went back to the cage where they placed her, she sat the same....legs neatly folded underneath, staring out...wondering, I suppose.
I spoke, at length, with the office manager; horror stories, of the things that she's seen and dealt with, on a daily basis.
"God bless you. I could never do what you do. My heart would truly break."
I left, but didn't go far. The dollar store was two blocks down...
I returned with a case of bleach, two dozen plush, dog squeekies, rawhide chews (although I DO NOT think they are good for dogs...wtf.),two dozen kitty toys, a case of paper towels, and two forty pound bags of food.
I know...again...I'm a wimp, but peoples...it KILLS ME to think of suffering, lonely, abused, neglected, and un-wanted animals, that are, at the very worst, waiting to walk the "Green Mile".
It pisses me off that we live in a society that has such low regard for God's creatures. It pisses me off when people are too stupid or lazy to "fix" the critters that they bring into their homes. It pisses me off that there are "people" that can drop off an animal at the S.P.C.A., with ropes 'round the neck that must be surgically removed ("Oh! It GREW!" Duh.) , with no reprisal. It pisses me off that people give into that, "Ohhhhhh! A Peek-a-poo will SO fit my personality", bullshit. It pisses me off......
Ugh. I could go on and on...
Please....
If you haven't...
SPAY AND NEUTER YOUR ANIMALS!!!!!
And when lookin' for a critter to make your heart content...
PLEASE!!!!!! ADOPT!!!!!

Howz 'bout...

2007-01-31T22:31:00.000-05:00

...throwing in "enticing a riot" to those charges?
An amazingly stupid (not to mention dangerous), promotional stunt.
I hope they NAIL Turner.

Top Chef

2007-01-24T23:43:00.000-05:00

I am a big "foodie". I enjoy the preparation, the sensations; feel of product (smooshing veal, onions, peppers, garlic between my fingers, and into meatballs, is...soothing), the bouquet of the ingredients, and the finality of presenting a dish that is both visually appealing, and a delight to the palate.
Being from New Orleans, I've also been privy to the enjoyment of some of the very best (in my humble opinion), cuisine to be had in this country.
I'm also a highly competitive sonofabitch at heart, so Top Chef is one of my very favorite programs as of late.
Folks, I am SHOCKED! Marcel and Ilan in the finals?!
Don't get me wrong, I think Marcel has been dogged unmercifully, and without reason from the beginning. His Eddie Munster-on-crack hairdo freaks me tha fuck out, but I think he's been "playing the game", and quite masterfully. He's a pompous lil shit, and I like that! He pisses the others off with his know-it-all-attitude, but that's what he WANTS. His fellow competitors stew (no pun intended), when he expatiates, on and on of, "molecular gastronomy", and they completely forget that he served as a teacher's assistant at the Culinary Institute of America, and that his current title is that of Master Cook. He is however, young, and impetuous.
Ilan, on the other hand, is a line-cook, practicing his art in a New York-based, Spanish establishment. A good line-cook, but a line-cook nevertheless. Most of his dishes are Spainish-infused, and he shows an inability to embrace other tastes and traditions in cooking. I also find him to be obstinate in nature, and that just puts me off my feed.
In the beginning of this competion, my clear choices for the three finalists were Sam, Ilan, and Mikey. Mikey was the on-stage doofus, with all of the aplomb of a T.G.I.Friday's cook, but again, a highly trained chef from a prestigious culinary institute.
Oh well, in the end, and from those left, I really wanted to see Sam (I also wanna fuck 'im nine ways from Tuesday), and Ilan duke it out for the title.
My chin, literally, hit my chest.
I.am. shocked.
Afterthought: Tom Colicchio...you can cum test my palate, any day....with yer tongue!

I'm Fine n Dandy...

2007-01-23T23:43:00.000-05:00

...however, find myself with my hands full (literally), and with little time to blog.
As my reason for moving here a few years ago is now irrelevant, I've seriously begun to entertain the idea of moving.
I don't particularly like this city (lil too small for my tastes), I've explored and documented all things historic, and find the job opportunities to be...well...for lack of a better word...BORING. I'm a S.A.R. diver, not a maintenance worker. There is no thrill to scrapin' boat hulls, or replacing props.
Soooo, I began to re-paint, add some crown molding in the dining room (yes, the lil one has power tools, and knows how to use 'em), and various other projects before a scheduled appraisal on the coonass crib.
Then I figgered, what tha hell...might as well finish the upstairs "game room", so I contracted some peeps to install a toilet and sink in the tiny room set aside for that purpose (doing the tile work myself), and couple of studdly mo fos to hook up the additional a/c unit.
The entrance/exit route used by these fellas is through my garage (where my TOOLS are), so regardless of what I may be doing, every time I hear that door slam,I find myself runnin' willie nillie to the nearest window, to make sure nothing of mine, ends up THEIRS.
Shuddup. I'm from Nawlins. I don't "do" trust.
Just so's ya' know, Nawlins is NOT on my list for re-location however, I have been looking at properties in neighboring Slidell (where my last home was), Mandeville, and Covington, but I'm still lookin'.
Tell me 'bout where YOU live! I might just move there! *grin*
At any rate, thanks for the e-mails and concern. I'll try to keep ya'll up-dated.
Till then, taaaaaaa!

Rep. Ellison...

2007-01-06T00:33:00.000-05:00

...gets his wish and swears in using Thomas Jefferson's two volumn Koran.
But wait! Is that his LEFT hand?! A desecration, according to the Religion of Pieces. (I could be wrong, but tha Lil Coonass thinks that's tha hand all good Mooslums wipe dey ass wid.)

Ooooo! And here's the new Speaker O' Da House! Nancy Lugosi strikes a pose!
Hold it sista...I'm whittlin' a stake to go with that hammer.

This...

2007-01-05T21:05:00.000-05:00

...is what was left of the tree, all sixty-some-odd feet of it, that crashed across two lanes of traffic, right in.front.of.my.car., today, on my way home from work.
No enthusiastic warning of "timmmberrrr", although I half expected to look over to see some dip-shit public worker, holdin' a chainsaw, with an "Oh FUCK!" look on his face.
Peoples, it moved in like....sloooow fuckin' motion, and then it EXPLODED when it hit the asphalt, right.in.front.of.me. (repeated for emphasis)
God DOES exist.
When I made it back with the camera, some doods in reflective gear were cuttin' that puppy up into movable pieces.
"Hey! That sucker almost k.o.'d my P.T.(Cruzer)".
"No shit?! You tha one that called 911?!"
Missed me by a pube hair folks. No shit. Well, there was shit (skid-marks, ok?! Fuck you!)...and I peed...a lil.

"We're all dorks...

2007-01-02T20:36:00.000-05:00

...that never get laid."
On parade.

One Year of Bloggin'...

2006-12-31T15:50:00.000-05:00

...if you can really call it that. I throw stuff up here, sporadically, and not with much rhyme or reason. I've never been very good at it, nor consistant in my posting. Sometimes I just post something so those that do read here, know I'm still alive n kickin'.

At any rate, here we are, one year later, and I've nothing but a re-post for you(from exactly one year ago); probably the only decent thing I've ever written.

Happy New Year all!

God bless, and stay safe.

The Lil One.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
I Miss My Daddy

I don't believe I've ever written that down. I think it a lot, especially during the holidays.
He was murdered when I was very young, and at times, his memory seems so fleeting. Or, maybe it's because I have so very few memories of him.
I remember him coming home for lunch sometimes. He would drop his labcoat on the floor, recline on the sofa for a twenty minute snooze, grab a sandwich, then a nice, newly- starched labcoat for the afternoon. I remember the smell, and the way it scratched my cheek, and crinkled when he hugged me.
I remember my maternal, parental unit used to bitch about that afternoon labcoat. "Why do u have to have a clean one?!". I resented her for it.
He smoked Belairs, and saved the coupons. I don't, to this day, know why.
He taught me to play chess when I was 7, how to shoot a long gun when I was 9, and by the time I was 10, I was well into the classics, because he encouraged me to read....OFTEN.
He would "sneak" bottled Cokes to me (SHE didn't allow them), and take me to the corner store for penny candies. Remember when a quarter would FILL a small, brown bag???
I had two distinctly different types of grandparents; his, that lived in the country, and encouraged us (my brother and I) to play "King on the Cow PooPoo", jump in the hay- loft, and chase the lil baby chicks. And HER'S; the bourgeous, country- clubers, with Hummels in the living room that I was NOT allowed to touch. Which do you think I preferred?
He took us swimming, down by the "Old Buffalo Hole", where the water was always deliciously cooler the further you dove, and little fishes would nip at your legs.
We'd sleep at Great-granmaw's old house. She'd been long-dead, and it was rented out in the wintertime to deerhunters. It was rustic, with floorheaters, and musty quilts, and a TIN ROOF! Daddy waited for us to fall asleep one night, then went out to toss small pebbles on the roof, and make "who who whooooo", owl noises in the dark. We knew it was him, but I jumped into his arms, oh sooooo quick when he came in through the kitchen door! Silly Daddy.
He wasn't around long enough to slink, Ninja-like, behind the door when boys brought me home from dates. He didn't see me graduate, and I didn't have him by my side when I married. He will never nuzzle his grandchildren, or teach them how to put a red wiggler on a hook. He will never teach them patience, or the art of strategy, with a rousing game of chess. Sad.
Daddies, go give your little girls a hug and a kiss, for me. If they are grown, call them and tell them how much you love them, for me. Remind them that they will ALWAYS be, "my little girl", for me.
Thank you.
Happy New Year, Daddy. I love you, and I miss you.

So...

2006-12-30T23:23:00.000-05:00

...I was wrong. The murderous tyrant didn't weep, and he didn't have to be drug to his noose.
I'm still bettin' he pissed himself, but Depends are routinely hitched up on prisoners before executions. Duh, Toni.
Buuuut, tha motha fukka definitely wasn't smilin,' and more importantly, he is most assuredly DEAD.

Kinda graphic, supposedly shot with a cellphone, and it goes black at one point. Wait till the end, if you haven't seen it yet.
Anti-climatic, if ya ask me.

"Will go to the gallows...

2006-12-29T21:58:00.000-05:00

...with a smile on his face."
My achin' ass!
Mark my words, Saddam will be drug to the gallows, weeping like a babe, leaving a trail of stickin' urine in his wake, showing himself for the coward that he is. (Oops. Was.)
Mark.my.words.

A Lil Half-Nekkidity...

2006-12-28T18:05:00.000-05:00

...for your Thursday viewing pleasure.

Sowwy folks. I'm just too damned busy for much else.
Ta for now!

From Frumpy...

2006-12-24T21:28:00.000-05:00

...to FABULOUS!
Merry Christmas, everyone!

I've Never Done One...Updated

2006-12-20T14:07:00.000-05:00

...but I think that photo warrents a "Caption Contest".
Get 'er done!

*Clarification due to some e-mails and comments*
That is NOT my Marine chile. Had it been my Marine chile, you neva would have spotted him.
"Marine? There's a Marine in that pic?!"
That is NOT my house, so it goes without saying, that is DEFINITELY NOT my sofa.
ACK!

Useful Tip

2006-12-15T19:10:00.000-05:00

Tubes of toothpaste and hemorrhoidal ointment look surprisingly simular when one is not wearing one's contacts.

Glad to be of assistance.
Carry on.

Prozac, Poinsettias and Penis

2006-12-15T01:39:00.000-05:00

She blogs! She blogs!
I promise, she won't sing.

Sooooo, I was depressed for a while. (Send one of your children off to a war-zone, again, and see how YOU feel.) After a few mornings of "coming-to" as opposed to waking up, I decided it best to drag my happy ass off to ye ole witch doktor for some good ole anti-depressants.(Yes, I SUK! I needa crutch. Fuck you.) For the second time in my life, Prozac has been a godsend. Give that shit ten days, accompanied by some of my vundermous confectionaries, and I'm back to my "Happy,happy, joy,joy" (if not slightly sarcastic), old ways.

The house is decorated. The tree is up. Poinsettias are perched on the porch, at the end of the drive (for that BITCH that delivers my mail....GOTTA be nice to her.), next to the fireplace, and on the main counter in the kitchen. Thousands of lights festoon the coonass crib. Yes, Imma light-hangin' fool! "Google Earth" the armpit-of-hell town I live in, and you too can have your corneas scorched from hundreds of miles away! Get wiff tha season, dammit! I have.

Oh, and I'm gettin' dick. Regular-like. Don't hate.

I'm back.
More soon.

From E-Mail

2006-11-17T14:11:00.000-05:00

Subject: Letter from Dumb GI

Senator John Kerry
304 Russell Senate Office Building, Washington, D.C. 20510

Dear Senator Kerry;

We are still laughing over here in Iraq at your joke about the troops being dumb. We do recognize that you are a lot smarter than we are because you were able to get out of combat in three months. This is why we are seeking your advice. Please give us guidance.

1.) Where is the least painful area on the body to inflict a wound?
2.) Does it have to bleed, or will a scratch do?
3.) Where do you get the forms to fill out recommending yourself for a purple heart?
4.) Do you need a witness? If so, how much does that cost?
5.) Are three purple hearts still good for a trip home?
6.) What is a realistic period of time in which to acquire these wounds? Less than three months sounds a little suspicious even to us.

Thanks for your help and keep the jokes coming.

Just a dumb G.I. in Irak

Way Back Wednesday

2006-11-15T23:23:00.000-05:00

The year was 1978. Folks raced for "pinks" back then, on Lakeview Dr. (Do people still do that?)
The car was a gift from my long-time boyfriend, Jon Paul. (Actually more like a bribe; he wanted me to marry him.)
The pic doesn't really do "her" justice, but it's the only one I could find.
Jon Paul had it painted pearl white with ten coats of clear-coat. The dual stripes were candy apple red on the trunk, roof, and at the windshield end of the hood. The paint on the scoops faded from red, to orange to yellow.
I wanted Cragar rims; he complied. I thought they looked really "bitchin", 'specially on the G-60's on the rear.
Thrush mufflers gave her a wicked growl, and the four on the floor made for easy rubber-burnin'. (I've always felt a need for speed.)
The only thing I absolutely hated about that car was the zebra-print fur on the back of the front seats (A brotha was the previous owner.), but seein' as I hardly ever got in the back seat *wink*, I lived with it.
I didn't marry Jon Paul, and I wrapped the car around a tree on Tchopitoulous St. in early 1980. One I regret to this day. The other not so much. I hear Jon Paul is now fat, and semi-bald. ACK!

Weren't we cooool lookin'? Dig that crazy Dorothy Hamil "do".
I chopped the pic to spare you the platform shoes that Jon Paul was sportin'. (Good lord! What were we thinking?!)
*channeling Eddit Bunka* Those were tha dayzzzzzzz.
So, what did you drive in high school?

A Conversation

2006-11-12T18:36:00.000-05:00

"I need some sheets, uh....Jeffery."

"Fabulouth! It juth tho happens we have thum lovely, thateen, juth in, AND, ith on THALE!"

"Um...Jeffery dear, the last time I was thoopid...sorry...stupid enough to cover my bed in satin, I was in college. It was a waterbed; equally stupid. For you see, Jeffery, when one's boyfriend looses his stroke rhythm, on a non-waveless, waterbed, covered in satin, tha both of ya' end up on the floor, ejected from said waterbed, by the recoil of a "wave", twisted and contorted within the satin. Pass."

"Egyptian cotton ith nith."

"Perfect!"

"Right thith way."

Just in case...

2006-11-10T14:17:00.000-05:00

...u ever decide u wanna scorch your colon.

Dumbfuck.

Voiced...

2006-11-09T14:53:00.000-05:00

...ala John Merrick...

"I am not a turd.

I am NOT a turd!"

Busy Getting Fucked...

2006-11-05T22:36:00.000-05:00

...over.
By:
1) Maternal Parental Unit's 3rd huzband.
This lazy bastid hasn't worked in three years. Katrina (insurance money), and my MPU getting cancer was a boon for this asshole.
He drives a brand new Navigator when he's not driving a brand new 'Stang. I guess one needs variety when spending insurance pay-offs.
Lemmie back up a bit. While I was in Fla. waiting for the MPU to die, I asked this dood where her will was. While she had promised me certain things (particularly some jewelry), over and again, I've always known her to be meticulous about "affairs". He said that THEY had put a disbursement list into a safety deposit box the last time they were in S. Ms. (after she was diagnosed).
Sooo, I wait for six months (grieved enough, u prick?), before I call. I offered my assistance. "I know Mother handled that stuff, and I know paperwork can be kind of intimidating."
As is his wont, he vacillated....hee'd an haw'd..."blah blah blah".
"Uh...where's the LIST dood?"
"Whal...I went down there two weeks ago, and the only thing in the box was an empty envelope and a pen."
Uh huh.
Lil T was tired of fuckin' around.
One of the pieces of jewelry is a MASSIVE diamond ring given the MPU by my step-father. The center stone is a two carat blue-white diamond. It is set in platinum, surrounded by a ring guard that is also covered in flawless stones.
"We've spoken of this before, and I'm asking you again; Are you going to give me my mother's ring?"
He screamed something incomprehensible, and hung up.
Oh, and get THIS...my 92 year old grandmother (MPU's mother) is living in the house with this gem.
When the MPU took her in (kidnapped and made her sign a power of attorney), she came with $178,000. in a (supposed) trust fund, and $2000. a month from my granddad's pension, that was being deposited into MPU's JOINT account with this ASSHOLE.
While in Fla. I also noticed my granny didn't have any of HER jewelry. VERY odd. My granddad hooked her UP when he was alive, and she was NEVER without it.

2) My asshole (and only sibling), brother.
I called him to go over this "situation", and the son-of-a bitch screamed at me!
"You aren't entitled to anything! Where were you when she was SICK?"
"Uh...fuck stick...I DIDN'T KNOW, remember?! NOBODY TOLD ME she was sick!"
Ugh.
"Regardless of what YOU think I'm entitled to, I've been promised that ring since I was 12! It's what she WANTED, you insensitive prick. I'm her daughter! Your opinion don't mean SQUAT. Are you going to do the right thing?"
There is much more to this "story", and the conversations, but I'm so pissed I can barely type.
Long and the short of it is this: Neither of them will answer my calls. Tomorrow I'm mailing off a $1000. retainer to a probate attorney in Fla.
Anyone that has ever dealt with probate shit knows it can drag on forever with all parties incurring tremendous attorney and court costs.
ASSHOLES!
I don't care if there's nary a penny left. I ain't cavin'.
Oh, and I'm calling the Center for Aging to have a case opened in regards to "granny".
He's had the home phone disconnected, but more importantly, "Where's the MONEY?!"
Sorry for the rant. I know this is not very articulate, but I've been furious for days.
Hope all is well with you bloggy people.

And Bane, Dear...

2006-11-05T22:21:00.000-05:00

...you KNOW I only send "skat" pics to you. *snerk*

I didn't shit the tub, ya turd.

Happy Birthday...

2006-10-28T01:04:00.000-04:00

...to a gettin'-older-but-still-hawt-chick...meeeeeeeee!!!

Oh yea, and that chick up thar too.

Happy B.day to Julie Fiona Roberts, from one hawt momma to another. :)

I'm Usually...

2006-10-26T22:02:00.000-04:00

...a pretty nice person but apparently, there lies a deep, hidden personality trait within my being that's a real bitch. Why else would I put up my last post, then leave you nice bloggy people to wonder and worry?
I am sooo sorry.
Wes is home and doing well, and I offer my thanks for all of you that called, sent prayer, e-mailed or left comments here.

THANK YOU-THANK YOU-THANK YOU!

Personally, I'm a little under the weather. Traipsing back and forth to Memphis for days was really draining, and I've the demon of all headcolds keeping me company.

On a brighter note, I got to swim with the lost manatee! I'm at a loss for an expanation to how he even got there, but as I missed my manatee dives this year in Fla., it was a pleasant (and nerve-settling) respite.

More when I feel better, but for now, I'm off to find that inconsiderate, inner bitch so's I can stab, stab, stabbity it to death.

Thanks again! :)

My Baby Child...

2006-10-15T00:53:00.000-04:00

...is sick, and was admitted to hospitol last week. As the facilities here SUCK, I've had him moved to a decidedly better hospitol in another state.
Needless to say, I've been on the road a LOT.
Prayers would be appreciated.

For Carl...

2006-10-05T22:15:00.000-04:00

...my studdly, deployed, Marine friend. (I'm tawkin' Sean Conneryish hea, ladies.*whew*).

I won't be usin' those three little lettas, 'cause apparently, the P*rn Police know that they denote n*kkidness on Thursdays, and my pitchers get blocked.

Hope this one makes it Carl.
Be safe, Sugah.

19...

2006-10-05T14:07:00.000-04:00

...out of 20 guessed correctly.
I guess I know "real" breastages (click the purple werds for tha quiz. Duh.),when I see 'em, but I wonder what that says about me?!

The posted pic has no real relevance other than to appease tha farookin' perverts lookin' for half nekkidness.
Nothing I would post could touch that.

Oh For The Love Of...

2006-10-01T23:57:00.000-04:00

...nevermind.
W.T.F. am I?!

Petals and Pistals and Stamins...

2006-10-01T23:36:00.000-04:00

...oh my!
Just a lil peek at sex amongst the flowers...

(Don't forget to make with the "clicky"....look MUCH betta bigga.)

Hey!!!!

2006-10-01T02:57:00.000-04:00

YOU, there! In Slidell, Looozianna! Who are you?! (Saw ya' on mah site meter!) Do I KNOW you?

Holla!

Howz Randazzo's? Sooo glad to hear they finally re-opened! Eat a cannoli for me. They make the BEST!

And while I'm bein' pushy, could ya' traverse Hwy. 11, (south-bound), and give a hat-tip (or cross your heart), when ya' pass by what used to be Gatemouth Brown's old place?
I'd love you for it. I miss him so.
(For those of you not familiar, google "Gatemouth", and "meet" a musical MASTER. When not touring, WORLD-wide, he was my neighbor, and a dear friend.)

And, while yer down that way, would ya' purdy please, go on down a lil further to Rat's Nest Road...to where Vera's used to be?
Would you remember with me... for a while...the sticky, red booths, red and white checkered curtains, and the lap of Lake Pontchartrain's waves below: the decades old place where generations of loyal customers gorged themselves nightly, on decadent, stuffed shrimp, and gazed over the inky lake, towards Nawlins, and the lights of the C.B.D.?

That would be nice...

Call Me a "Meanie"...UPDATED

2006-09-28T02:04:00.000-04:00

..., but I chortled, giggled, nay...laffed mah ass off at that shit!

I mean, common!
I always wondered (when, like watchin' the Olympics), what kinda' idjit stands down-range of an athelete, hurling a staff, topped with a pointy, hypodermic-like object?!

I guess her mother left that out of the, "Don't Run With Scissors, Chew Your Food 20 Times, Wipe From FRONT to Back!" lecture.
Duh.

Here's a link Joe. Now do u get the point? I said "point". *snerk*

I'm a "Faster"

2006-09-25T21:56:00.000-04:00

These guys are "fasters". You can be a "faster" too!

Iced tea (and nothing else), all day for the lil one, but I'll be switchin' to Crown, RESERVE, just for the occasion.

I should be "toasted" by 21:oo.

Ya'll go, show your support, sign up, and I might offer you sum phone sex. *snerk*

Cat-Bloggin'...

2006-09-22T16:31:00.000-04:00

...for giggles.

Arghhh!

2006-09-21T15:45:00.000-04:00

Your Pirate Name Is...

Cannibal Jenny of the High Seas

What's Your Pirate Name?

Helloooooo From I-Mac Land...

2006-09-20T15:37:00.000-04:00

...to all you bloggy people!
Kinda' weird n hollow in here since I've pretty much let this machine sit idle since the day I bought it. I did all the installs n such, set up an e-mail acct. (as I didn't plan on using this machine for idle chit-chat or blogging), and set the security. Other than that....nothing.
Speaking of security; the settings on this thang are tighter than a castration band on a bull's nutsack, so there will be no fancy smancy crap on ye ole blogspot for a while.

Ya see folks, my beloved lap-top went tits up on me a few days ago, and I'm LOST without it. ALL of my e-mail addys, bookmarks, yahoo capabilities, etc. went with it. *sniff* If it weren't for my bloggy momma (ll), I wouldn't be here today. She is the keeper of all things bloggy for more than a few people and I'm MOST grateful for it.

For those of you that remember, I've been the owner of said lap-top for a very short period of time; 6 months to be exact.
The L.C.D. screen just went BLACK on me one day...*poof*...with lil squiggly lines for added drama.
Apparently, according to My Name is Neil ( it's really Prakash, but I gotta have an American -sounding name), Push The Red Dot On My Forhead for ENGRISH, says it's repairable.
Uh huh.
"Oh yes. And we would be needing to return it to you in five days."
Uh huhhhh....
Till they find the cache of porn on my hard-drive....
Geesh.

So for now, a hearty "hello" to those that have faithfully come lookin' for Lil T.
I shall return.
Neil said so.
Uh huhhhh!

A Funnie

2006-09-15T15:57:00.000-04:00

The husband had just finished reading a new book entitled "You Can Be the Man of Your House". He stormed into the kitchen and walked directly up to his wife. Pointing a finger in her face, he said sternly, "From now on, you need to know that I am the man of this house and my word is law! You will prepare me a gourmet meal tonight, and when I'm finished eating my meal, you will serve me a sumptuous dessert. After dinner you are going to go upstairs with me, and we will have the kind of sex that I want. After that, you are going to draw me my bath so I can relax. You will wash my back and towel me dry and bring me my robe. Then you will massage my feet and hands. Then after that's done, guess who's going to dress me and comb my hair?" His wife replied, "The fucking funeral director would be my guess."

My Bloggy Momma...

2006-09-14T23:16:00.000-04:00

...ll, referred to it as a wounded "wing". I call it a, "can't fukkin' type 'cause my right rotor cuff makes it impossible to abduct my right arm from the side of my body 'cause it hurts like a motha fucka, inability to blog".
Thus...silly vids and short posts.

I do howeva, have a sad (I am so embarrassed, I could crawl into a hole, and DIE!), tale for ya'll...maybe tomorrow. It involves liquor, phones, and a deployed Marine.
Uh huh....you guessed it! *ahem*

Since I can't take photos either, an H.N.T. "boobage" reprint, just for tha "Rantin' One".
'Cause he asked...nicely.
Tha farookin' pervert.

NOT...

2006-09-14T22:07:00.000-04:00

...so fond of the penis.

And for those of you goin', "Daaaang! That shit HURT!", a lil levity.

32...

2006-09-13T12:22:00.000-04:00

MILLION hits!
What's disturbing to me is how many of these songs I've danced to.

May Have Been...

2006-09-13T11:44:00.000-04:00

...his best asset, but what happened to a lock of hair?!

Never Forget

2006-09-10T23:19:00.000-04:00

So many names.
So many lives...
So many families...
I have no words, only tears... and prayers.

NEVER FORGET!

UNITED AIRLINES FLIGHT 93,
from Newark, New Jersey, to San Francisco, California, crashed in rural southwest Pennsylvania, with 45 people on board.

UNITED AIRLINES FLIGHT 175,
from Boston, Massachusetts, to Los Angeles, California, was the second hijacked plane to strike the World Trade Center, plowing into the south tower. Two pilots, seven flight attendants and 56 passengers were on board.

AMERICAN AIRLINES FLIGHT 77,
from Washington to Los Angeles, crashed into the Pentagon with 64 people aboard.

AMERICAN AIRLINES FLIGHT 11,
from Boston, Massachusetts, to Los Angeles, California, crashed into the north tower of the World Trade Center with 92 people on board.

WORLD TRADE CENTER

PENTAGON

H.N.T. Toes

2006-09-08T00:42:00.000-04:00

Thought I forgot, din't ya'?
Happy half-nekkid-Thursday, ya' farookin' perverts.

Busy Busy Busy

2006-09-07T17:54:00.000-04:00

Sooooo...
Here's a...
"What am I?"

Ain't This...

2006-09-03T23:56:00.000-04:00

... a cool, motha fukkin' Airborne t-shirt?!

"Neezer" (one of mah Airborne "babies"), sent it to me. That, in itself, deserves comment. "Neezer" is such a tightwad, he squeaks when he walks.

Note to Josh: Da boobies FIT. Yayyyyy.
Thanks, Sugah.

Fo' Tessa

2006-09-03T02:05:00.000-04:00

What I "feed it". (Da hair, that is.)

And twice a month, copious amounts of may o naise. Kraft.

Who You Callin' "Cupcake"?!

2006-09-02T23:01:00.000-04:00

Well, my sweet bud Paul has gone home, and taken his "hose" with him. *sigh*
We had a great time, and he'll be missed. Except for his buffalo-baying snores. And his practical jokes. And his annoying habit of using cutsie "pet names" for me that so don't "fit".
I mean, do I look like a "Cupcake"? Hell, I wouldn't even make for a decent "Muffin".
I suppose if I had to equate myself with a pastry, I think I'd be a "Titan Tart", or ....Oooo! A "Crepe Suzette"!

Anyway...I've known Paul forever, and I love him to death, but he knows that shit twists my panties.
"Would you quit callin' me "Cupcake"?!"
"Suuuuure, "Babycakes!"
Handsome turd.

Did I mention he's a practical joker?
Paul has had a set of keys to every house I've ever owned. He would pick up my mail and feed my critters for me when I went out of town for jobs or vacation. Nice, huh?
He would also rearrange furniture in my house, and I'm not talkin' 'bout a rug or end table. I'd come home to find my bedroom and living room totally switched. Or, he might just settle for doing the same thing to all of my kitchen cabinets and drawers.
Once, I came home to find all of my patio furniture on top of the covered porch roof.
Handsome fireman turd. With a really nice "hose". Only thing that saved him.

He didn't have an opportunity to move any furniture while he was here. I was with him most of the time. But just a bit ago, I climbed into bed to "surf" the net for a while and found:
1) an apple and a single, latex glove-note attached, ("guess what I used that for"), under one pillow.
2) my glo-in-the-dark dildo, illuminated by the porch light, behind one of the sheer curtains.
3) a banana, peeking from the fake fern atop my armoire.
and
4) a pillowcase full of pepperment cellophanes and gum wrappers.
Cute.

Oh, and he called me "Cupcake" when he pulled outta tha driveway.
"Lub yoooooou, "Cupcake"!!"

How long ya' think it'll take him to figure out the putrid smell coming from somewhere in his truck is a half-eaten egg salad sammich? With cheese.

I'm yer "Cupcake", alright.

I lub you toooo.

Way Back Wednesday

2006-08-30T12:56:00.001-04:00

Hey! A blog entry!

Sorry. I hadda pack Wes up for a gaming convention (his dad went with), and I've a visitor in my midst! (Yes Kiwi gurl, he's hawt. And yes, we've been gettin' buzy wid it.)
Paul is a fireman friend of mine from Nawlins, and boy can he handle his hose!

Oops. This was 'posed to be a W.B.W. post.
I digress.

Whal, lookie Lil T.!
I was in my early twenties when that was taken. That lil critter is "Stormy" da ferret, so named 'cause I bought him right before some damned hurricane pounded the crap outta me.

At the time, I was living aboard "Scarlett", a 48' Formosa (Taiwanese-made) sailboat that belonged to my M.P.U.'s (maternal parental unit), second husband. "Scarlett" was beautiful (unfortunately, I have no pics scanned), could berth eight adults comfortably (if the sails weren't stowed forward), had a fully functional galley (kitchen), a nice sized head (bathroom) and had a most awesome heating/cooling system. The temp. was pretty much always set on 68 degrees. If the ambient temp. dropped below that, it would automatically switch to heat. Told ya' it was awesome!
"Scarlett" had tons of amenities, ( just ask if ya' interested), and I was most comfortable. I loved living aboard for more than two years.

Any of you ever lived in an unconventional home?

Wherein...

2006-08-26T17:31:00.000-04:00

...a re-deployed (that means he's home), Marine "baby" wants brickle ("It won't melt, "Mom T!"), we make brickle.

Now, I'm not talkin' 'bout some bourgeous, sticky, peanut-filled concoction thrown together by "Maria the Mexican" (who btw, tends chickens at her "day job"), and peddled at the circus.
Out of Lil T's coonass kitchen come only the finest of confections. Lil T's brickle is a buttery, rich, toffee-like creation that ships well, whether to Wak Iraq, or to your Uncle Bocephus down in Bumpkinville, Arkansas...if he has teeth...his own teeth.

Let's begin.

First and foremost, find the damn candy thermometer. If you don't own a candy thermometer, you're a loozer. Go home. You cannot play this game. You must be this high to ride this ride.

The ingredient list is small:
sugah, just 'bout 1 3/4 c.

light corn syrup...We ain't makin' no damn pecan pies today!

Oh and that reminds me, you damned yankees! The word is pronounced, "pacawn", not "peecan".
A "pacawn" is a nut we Suthrun folks pick up off tha ground, and use to make "yummies".
A "peecan" is somethin' folks put unda tha bed for when they don't feel like goin' to tha outhouse.
We clear?
Ok.

light corn syrup- 1/3 c.

butta- "It uses real butta, or it gets the hose." 2 sticks, unsalted, sweet.

nuts- 2 c., give or take a few, chopped.
Today, I'm using Emerald Glazed pacawns. You can use whatever type of nuts you like. Just don't use the seldom-seen Banenut. Banenut+boilin' sugah=baaad.

Lightly grease a jellyroll pan. This one is about 10X15.
Oh shut up! Its clean. That darkened area is just where I "cook" mah "smack".

In a heavy ass 2 qt.,aluminum saucepan (I think mine is eleventy-hunnert years old, but it works great, so I don't fuck with success.), combine sugah, corn syrup, and 1/4 cup water; heat to boiling over med. heat, stirring every now n then. Stirry in tha butta.

Set the candy thermometer in place and continue cookin', stirring frequently, about 20 min. or until temp. reaches 300 degrees.

Please, be careful folks!
300 degree, melted sugah and corn syrup will burn your skin off like napalm on V.C. chillen.
That was tacky.
Les move on.

Remove that hot-ass mixture (300 degrees, memba?) from heat. Stir in nuts. (I've known folks that throw coconut into the mixture , but personnally, I don't care for pixie boogers.) Immediately pour mixture into jellyroll pan. Working quickly, spread mixture evenly with a spatula.
Iffin you prefer, you can sprankle some nuts on top before the mixture starts to "set".

Cool buttery, yummy goodness on a wire rack, then crack that stuff into pieces.
Mail immediately!

Warning: Consumption of too much yummy goodness will make ya' ass so jiggly, Bill Cosby gonna wanna stick a spoon in it!

H.N.T.

2006-08-24T01:18:00.000-04:00

All I got.
No toes in hose...
No butt pics...
Just half mah face...
With half a (I hate my chin!), "Joker's" grin.

Ya'll go visit Obassco and check out tha really half nekkid people.

"If you don't...

2006-08-24T00:39:00.000-04:00

...stop followin' me 'round, with that fukkin' camera, I'm gonna claw off ya' head, and shit down yer neck!"

*Make with tha clicky. Tis a purdy cool pic, of a pissed kitty.

I Ain't Dead

2006-08-23T23:10:00.000-04:00

Nor have I lost my mind, spending skads of cashola on mystics and big hand people in search of Rob's spirit.
I'm sure he's busy, what with etereal, topless chickas to chase 'round in the heavens.

No folks, I've been busy, preppin' for the new school year.
I had to collect 2398730 some-odd text books, workbooks, study guides, computer programs, and majikal chalk in order to further my heathen's home-schoolin' edumacation.
He came with, possessed with the enthusiasm of one headed for a root canal, sans anesthesia.
Whateverrrr.
"You didn't think I was gonna carry all that crap, did ya'?!"

Now, if I could bottle and market "Teenage Angst and Sulk" as an alternate fuel source, my life would be gravy.
But I can't. And it ain't. And all that stuff costs money.
My charm goes nowhere at the "Land of Old Maids" (aka "Education Station"), so I hadda go "get wet" a few times.

Oh, and I made CANDY! POUNDS of it! For a yummy MARINE!

I'll share later.
De-prunin' to be done in da coonass crib.

Hope all you bloggy people are doing well, 'cause Lord knows, I haven't had time to check.

Peace!

Rob's Around

2006-08-18T21:36:00.000-04:00

Yep. I do believe "Acidman" has eased through the initiation period, passed muster, made the grade, hopped, skipped n jumped through purgatory, found his pickin' and grinnin' seat in Heaven. Whatever.

I "feel" him. You can believe it, or kiss my ass flyin' as much as I care.
Others "feel" him too.

He and Catfish went fishin' yesterday. Cat hollered out to "Bowlegs" when he snagged a big 'un outta the pond.

People are talkin' 'bout him again...out in the blogesphere. I think some of them "feel" him too.

Eh. Believe what you want, but some weird stuff's been happenin'.
Sit and listen a spell...

The lovely Dana sent me Rob's obit a while back (thank you, Sugah!), but it was returned to her, for some odd reason.
It was delivered, good n proper...yesterday.

So was"Manson". He came via Priority Mail (with something else that is too cool! Thanks!), sent by Samantha (Rob's daughter), delivered, to my doorstep...yesterday.

For those not familiar with "Manson", he's the cat Rob never had. I sent him to Rob when he was in Willingway; a stuffed, motion-sensored, meniacle, mewling kitty, that earned me the familiar curse: "You should be dragged off and SHOT!"

Yea, yea. Whatever.

If you watch the first video of Rob's interview with Fox, you can catch a glimpse of "Manson", on the back of Rob's couch. He blogged about that damned kitty here.

Stacey (Sam's significant other), is convinced Rob is IN that kitty. While they were cleaning out the "Crackerbox", both at opposite ends of the house, "Manson" meowed.
"I swear Toni, she think's Dad is IN the damn cat! I told her it hadda be a vibration."
At which point I hear Stacey holler, "Oh hell no!" (she could be heard pounding the CRAP outta somethin' in the distance), "It ain't meowin' now, is it?!"
*snerk*

Now, "Manson" has been perched on my dresser, quiet as can be, since I took this picture.

I've walked past him numerous times, without a "meow" one.
'Round 'bout 11 or so last night, I was masturbating (Oh shut up! YOU do it too! Besides, it makes me sleepy.), having lusty thoughts of half-nekkid Marine-types, doin' naughty thangs to me, and I was almost... juuust....THERE., when....

"MEOOOOOOOOOW!"

As God is my witness.

And, all of this stuff happened...YESTERDAY, people!
Coinky dink? Maybe, but I think not.

He's around. I believe it.

Oh ,and Rob...don't you ever do that again.

I miss ya' babe.

Oooo! Baby Bunny? I'll Take Mine Blackened.

2006-08-17T23:59:00.000-04:00

You're Totally Sarcastic

You sarcastic? Never! You're as sweet as a baby bunny.
Seriously, though, you have a sharp tongue - and you aren't afraid to use it.
And if people are too wimpy to deal with your attitutde, then too bad. So sad.

How Sarcastic Are You?
But seriously, tact is for people not witty enough to be sar-cas-tic.

"Geronimooo!!!"

2006-08-16T14:24:00.000-04:00

A presidential mandate in 2002 honored all airborne warriors by decreeing August 16th to be National Airborne Day.

I've "adopted" quite a few men (nuts), that choose to "jump out of perfectly good airplanes" for a living. I am in awe of what these guys do, how specialized their training is, and I never tire of their tales (and mishaps!), of adventure.
Some of 'em read here too, so please tell 'em "thanks" for their service.

I've long been fascinated with the rich history of E ("Easy") Co, 2/506 PIR, 101st, Airborne Division ("Screamin' Eagles"). You can read all 'bout them here.

While "surfing" around this morning, I found this tribute:

By W. Thomas Smith Jr.
Contributing Editor
NavySEALs.com

"When I attended jump school more than 25 years ago, there was a saying among non-paratroopers that ground week separated the men from the boys. Tower week separated the fools from the men. And during the third and final week, the fools jumped.

Of course, it was all light-hearted jabbing and a bit of sincere professional jealousy.

We knew then – as every soldier, sailor, airman, and Marine knows today – there is something special about a combat-trained parachutist or paratrooper, something uncommon that sets him apart from the ordinary foot-soldier.

It’s not simply the fact that a paratrooper jumps out of a perfectly good airplane – though not everyone has the physical courage to do that – but he does so ready to fight, knowing full-well that he will probably be outnumbered by the enemy on the ground; certainly surrounded; and that his survival depends on his ability to catch the enemy by surprise; kill him, perhaps in close quarters; and continue to fight with limited food, equipment, and ammunition until he is reinforced by heavier ground units.

In fact, the initial perception of most anyone seeing a uniformed soldier or sailor wearing a badge, medal, or patch with a “parachute” might be that that soldier or sailor is “specially trained.” The second thought might be “he probably knows how to fight.” (Read the rest here. It's worth a few minutes.)

Happy National Airborne Day to all you "jumpers"!

GERONIMOOO!!!

Beautiful As It Was...

2006-08-14T21:49:00.000-04:00

...I watched it crawl down the porch rail and onto the deck.

Wicked-quick little creature, it skittered towards me, on six, ink-black legs, antennae twitching, sending out sonar, perchance to locate food for it's un-born young.

I stepped aside.

Scarlet thoraxed, I easily tracked it across jade-green blades of grass that glistened... dewey, in the morning sun, as it left the porch.

And then...

I squished that fukker!

From the "All Teenagers Are Evil" File

2006-08-11T16:27:00.000-04:00

Youngest chile:
"Hey Mom! With that hairdo you look like a moviestar!"

Momster:
"Oh yea? Which one?"

Youngest chile (packin' his bags as I type):
"Lassie!"

Momster provin' him wrong:

Well, Ain't That Spechul

2006-08-10T17:43:00.000-04:00

Mike Wallace hasn't retired! Aw, hell no! He done gone an got himself an exclusive interview with that wacky Mahmoud Ahmadinejad!

They "bonded" folks. Really.
"We went on and on", said Wallace.

And, Ahmadinejad was so "accommodating"! He was! Mike Wallace said so! (Click on "said so", to read all about it, oh-clueless ones.)

They reminisced about a previous breakfast date too!
"Don't you remember, you big silly?! We exchanged friendship bracelets and sang Kum bi yah!"
Not really. I made that part up.

THIS part freaked me the fuck out:
"He's actually, in a strange way, he's a rather attractive man, very smart, savvy, self-assured, good looking in a strange way," Wallace said. "He's very, very short but he's comfortable in his own skin."

That's it! I'm callin' the short bus myself to pick up these two lunatics. Hell! I'll even throw in some toxic paste for 'em to eat and some crayolas to butt-fuck each other with.

Such good friends should not be separated.

I Took a Coupla Days Off...

2006-08-10T00:04:00.000-04:00

...to chillaxe and de-prune the ole bod from all that divin', and now find myself addicted to YouTube!

Anyone else so afflicted?

I'll admit, tons of the contributions are oh so much garbage, but there's some funny chit to be found (if ya' bein' lazy, and your butt appears to have attached itself to your mattress).

And, there's also amazing stuff like THIS:

"From An Opening Between My Legs"

2006-08-09T00:00:00.000-04:00

I've been around for a while. Specifically, since the latter part of 1962.

I've seen some weird (gross, nasty, bloody, obscene, shocking, blah, blah, blah), shite in my lifetime.

Years ago, in my pet store, I'd feed LIVE mice, rats, bunnies, and chickens to my snakes, without blinking an eye.
"Ding, ding, ding! Tis dinna-time!"

As a paramedic, I've patched open, sucking chest wounds, picked up ropes of intestines, stabalized fractures, and transported amputated limbs. I've been puked on, bled on. All (and more), without a twinge of queasiness.

I've recovered bodies; bloated and swollen, left festering in full summer's heat, and entwined in garbage below the surface, from La. bayous and Lake Pontchartrain.

Hell! I've had two children! Boys! And any parent KNOWS wee ones produce some nasty shit. Sometimes, rushing forth from two orifices...at once!

However I must say, none of the previously mentioned (NONE), equals the perverse, revolting, downright disgusting content on this "educational" vid., in my humble opinion.

You have been warned.
What you are about to see (if you have the stomach for it), is....um...disturbing, to say the least. (Do NOT click on the vid, if you are easily offended.)
You be the judge.

Oh. And you farookin' perverts that came here via a google search lookin' for a shot of poonanny...pblthhhh!

p.s. The word "panties" is, from this day forward, stricken from my vocabulary.

Sunday Offering...Updated

2006-08-06T15:33:00.000-04:00

This is beautiful.

View the presentation (with sound), and have a lovely Sunday.

Musing...
How many of you are clicking on the word "this"???

Bad "Signing"

2006-08-03T23:09:00.000-04:00

Years ago, I went to a county fair with a guy that I'd been dating for quite a while. At one point we became separated, so I stretched on my tippy toes, scanning the crowd, trying to find my "sugah". Find him I did, and I watched in amazement as he had a very animated conversation with the carney operating the ferris wheel...in SIGN LANGUAGE.

"Wow, babe! I didn't know you knew "sign"!"

He told me that a hearing impaired guy had worked at his dad's shop for years, and over those years, had taught him American Sign Language.

I was intrigued . So much so, I eventually took classes (while getting my first bachelors), to become an interpreter for the deaf.

From the very first class, the spoken word was forbidden. No. spoken. language. PERIOD. Hell, the sign alphabet wasn't even taught, so I was damn glad I already knew it!

Classes went well. I learned quickly, and was fortunate to have a hunnie that could quiz me frequently.
A.S.L. is NOT easy, as it is a different language.

"Contrary to common belief, ASL [American Sign Language] is not derived from any spoken language, nor is it a visual code representing English. It is a unique and distinct language, one that does not depend on speech or sound. ASL has its own grammar, sentence construction, idiomatic usage, slang, style, and regional variations-- the characteristics that define any language."

Many "signed" words (verbs and nouns) are the same. Ex: The signs for "food" and "eat", are the same. (Stick wid me. I done tole ya' dis shit is hawd!)
Conversely, MANY signs are very simular to others, but may mean something altogether different.
Considerable care, and thought was encouraged for the novice, before signing (in depth), in front of any group.
Your's truly was to become a glaring example for taking that encouragement to heart.

I was late for class. VERY late, (being held up by my all-important waitressing job...a gurls' gotta EAT!), and I skidded into the classroom, practicing my"signed" excuse for the prof., in my mind.

He paused, mid-lesson, and waited.

What I meant to sign was, "So sorry me late. Me, before, at my job, work [both hands, in a fist, (letter "s"), tapping wrist to wrist], hard."

What I signed was, "So sorry me late. Me, before, at my job, FUCK (same as above, but wrist to back of opposing hand), hard."

Believe me when I say, hilarity and tremendous merriment ensued.

Now that, my friends, is the epitome of BAD SIGNING.

I Am a Scorpio Woman...

2006-08-03T21:34:00.000-04:00

...and since this was so dead-on, I hadda steal it from Lisa.

How To Make a Scorpio Woman Fall in Love With You

The female Scorpio is one of the most powerful signs of the Zodiac according to the influence of planet positioning and other astrological elements.

Steps
Look into a female Scorpio's eyes when you speak your feelings, intentions or simply have a conversation with her. Scorpio females will have a piercing look and her eyes will be one of her most attractive features.

Give the Scorpio female lots of sex and make her experience extraordinary. Sexual experiences must include orgasmic explosions as well as intense moments of passionate caressing and kissing. Female born under this sign will most likely be sexually oriented, have a fierce sex appeal, and appetite on a daily basis.

Surprise the female Scorpio when least expected with an expensive gift, preferably gold or diamonds. Give it to her during a moment of romantic intimacy.

Plan, confirm, and affirm your future with this potent sign. She loves to know that you care, have, hold and protect her.

Say something sweet and positive to this very emotional sign and she will love you for it. Female Scorpios love compliments when they are at their best and even when they are not.

Show your female Scorpio you possess the qualities they are attracted to by your actions. Scorpio females like: discipline, order, cleanliness, dedication, enthusiasm and confidence.

Material things can and cannot matter to this sign. While they include money and power, they also evolve around genuine love, emotion, romanticism, honesty, passion, fidelity, friendship, devotion and last but not least sexual intensity.

Tips
You will recognize the Scorpio female by her piercing eyes, her skin will tend to be silky or shiny, her body will be lean and shapely and she will have a vibrant energy and presence when she enters a room.

Warnings
Not all female Scorpios may exhibit all of these specifics together, but if you happen to fall on one that does, hold on and do not let go...she is special.

Nippleage H.N.T.

2006-08-03T15:15:00.000-04:00

To learn more about half nekkid Thursdays, go here.

Get half-nekkid folks!

Murtha Is an ASSHOLE!

2006-08-02T13:33:00.000-04:00

And I hope that Marine (SSgt. Frank Wuterich,26),collects every fuckin' penny of that $75,000.

"Mr. Murtha has intentionally disseminated with malice his hearsay version of the events of November 19, 2005 with knowledge of the false and libelous nature of the statements contained therein and/or with gross negligence or reckless disregard for the truth," the suit states.

(Read all about it.)

MY Babies

2006-08-01T22:58:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, I so miss having small children around the house.

I read on blogs elsewhere, of teeth- pulling antics, little boys peein' on trees, little girls running about, clad only in frilly, pink panties, and fort-building in living rooms.

No Disney plays in the coonass crib any more. No child seeks me out for a band-aid, and a kiss to, "make it betta, Mommie".
No more giggles to a child's request for "panna cakes", "squaffles", or "chicken n dunkilens".

The joy I once had picking out lil outfits for a step-daughter, taken from me, long ago...gone.

She, Brewer, came to us (my X and I), when she was two, and her "Step-Momster" loved her dearly.
When she was 6, she asked me to stop referring to myself in that manner.
"Mommie says, you love me just like you love Wes and Kris, so you're my second mommie! You're not a momster!"
I haven't seen her in years. Her mother remarried, and thought it best.

My oldest, Kristopher, is grown and gone, having joined his beloved Marine Corps, before he needed to shave.
He's been deployed twice, and will go again. He loves his job. He can be a "tree", a "rock", the "sand". He is most deadly, but he is still, and always will be, my baby.

My Wes is 16, a bohemian artist-type, with a beard...all 6 ft., and two hundred pounds of him.
While not under my watchful gaze, as he does his home-schoolin', he's off with his buds (and gurls! grrrrr), or workin' on his "guns" at the gym.
My baby will, most likely, follow in his big bro's footsteps, as both were raised with a strong love of God and country.

My babies...
I still see 'em, in my mind's eye...my babies.
They grew up, so fast...my babies.

Those Wacky Africans!

2006-08-01T15:35:00.000-04:00

Guess what these are.

Heyyyyy!

2006-07-31T15:47:00.000-04:00

Who eva you are, over at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, yer spending waaaaay too much time on my blog.

It's creepin' me out.

Step forward, and identify yourself.

Random Bits of Pomposity

.......

Lil T...

Still Alive

Under Construction

For "Kudzu" *updated*

No, I Didn't Forget

Caught My Eye...

Feeling a "Hummer's" heartbeat...

I haven't been bloggin' 'cause...

Happy, happy...

Rest in Peace

"Westley...

I wasn't going to blog about this...

Forgive my abrupt departure...

The Toshiba Satelite A100/A150 Series Laptop...

'Cause I like to show off...

My bloggy momma...

Life Interrupts

Dammit!

I'm Confused

Oh So Cute!

Pimp Yerseff!

As it does on water...

Whew!

Les See...

132.15.225.# (Kadena Air Base)

Was It Wrong Of Me...

Stark Reality...

This N That

"Dude...

No Knocks

I Hate Dum People

Travel A Lot?

Disheartened

Howz 'bout...

Top Chef

I'm Fine n Dandy...

Rep. Ellison...

This...

"We're all dorks...

One Year of Bloggin'...

So...

"Will go to the gallows...

A Lil Half-Nekkidity...

From Frumpy...

I've Never Done One...*Updated*

Useful Tip

Prozac, Poinsettias and Penis

From E-Mail

Way Back Wednesday

A Conversation

Just in case...

Voiced...

Busy Getting Fucked...

And Bane, Dear...

Happy Birthday...

I'm Usually...

My Baby Child...

For Carl...

19...

Oh For The Love Of...

Petals and Pistals and Stamins...

Hey!!!!

Call Me a "Meanie"...UPDATED

I'm a "Faster"

Cat-Bloggin'...

Arghhh!

Helloooooo From I-Mac Land...

A Funnie

My Bloggy Momma...

NOT...

32...

May Have Been...

Never Forget

H.N.T. Toes

Busy Busy Busy

Ain't This...

Fo' Tessa

Who You Callin' "Cupcake"?!

For "Kudzu" updated

I've Never Done One...Updated