Good Housekeeping

So, I was talking with my friend A the other day about how much we hate housecleaning. It's not like it's a hard chore to do, I just hate it. Until one evening several years ago, I decided to reward myself with wine. Hear me out...you clean a room, you get a new glass of wine. It's genius. Although, through trial and error I have discovered that it's best to start with the bathroom and kitchen since those rooms must be clean, and then move on to other rooms that can be half-assed if you want. By the time you're finished, you're quite tipsy and not so pissed that you just spent 3 hours chasing cat hair around the house. You know you're going to try it. I recommend starting with a nice Cabernet; it takes longer to drink than a sweet white. One small tip though, you must clean...don't sit down with your glass of wine and start reading the latest book you just bought from B & N, because the next thing you know, you've finished your book, a bottle of wine and still haven't cleaned a thing. Not that I've done that or anything.

A on the other hand makes quite a production of cleaning: he wears his pajamas, pink satin pumps and a Lucy wig. No shit. He says it's hard to take yourself seriously wearing a bright red Lucille Ball wig and you know, I believe it. Once in a while he does don a feather boa as well, but my guess is that's just when he's feeling saucy. And I'm sure it's quite the sight to behold: a gay 6'4" man, wearing a firey red wig, pink pumps and a white boa. Hell, it's cracking me up right now.

We promised the next time housecleaning duties rolled around, we would try each other remedies to see how they worked. Anyone know where I can find a Lucy wig by Saturday?

4:44 am

It started in the middle of a party. All of my friends and family were there and from the attention I was getting, it seemed the party was in my honor. I was accepting hugs, kisses and congratulations but for what, I didn't exactly know. Until I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a darkened window...I was wearing an ivory gown with a veil.

I worked my way towards the back of the room where I could see double French doors that opened into another room. I didn't know why at the time, but I had to get to into that room. I was waylaid several times by well-wishers and my faceless new husband, but I was not going to be derailed. I finally made it to the doors and looked through the glass and saw a gathering of people in there, all surrounding one person. I tried to get a glimpse, but I couldn't. I opened the door and everyone turned to look. Some moved out of the way and finally, I saw who held everyone's attention. It was Teddy. He stood up and walked towards me and held out his arms. I cried out his name and ran to hug him. And I felt that warm, safe, secure love flow into me as we cried on each others shoulders. I told him I was surprised to see him and he asked me if I really thought he'd miss my wedding day. I was afraid to break contact with him, fearful that he'd disappear again. I held his hand and asked him why it had been so long since I'd seen him. He told me that just because I hadn't seen him didn't mean he wasn't there. He promised that he's never far away and is always checking in on all of us. It was then that I saw others were there, too. Some I have lost already: Daddy and my friend Blake; and still others that I can't bear to even think about losing: Grandad, Uncle Harry, Grammie... I hugged and kissed them all and tried to get as close to all of them as I could because I had a feeling that this was a special, once in a lifetime gathering that couldn't be taken for granted. Teddy walked me to the door and told me that I had a lot of living yet to do before I could join them. He kissed me on the cheek and opened the door. When I turned to tell him one last time that I loved him, the room was empty.

That's when I woke up, and it was 4:44 in the morning. Some people believe that 4:44am is a magical time when your angels come to visit you. As of 4:44 this morning, I believe it too.

Courage: Rosa Parks, 1913-2005

Rosa Parks died yesterday.

It's hard for me to imagine today, but in 1955, what she did was brave. And regardless of the laws at the time, what she did was right. It takes courage to take a stand and in my opinion, in today's world, too many of us take the easy way out; the road of less hassle. We don't want to say anything when we see someone being oppressed, we figure it's not our business.

It's probably safe to say that Rosa Parks didn't start out that morning by saying, 'today, I'm going to become a civil rights icon'; she was a 42 year-old woman who had had enough of 'separate but equal' and took a stand by taking a seat. She simply took a seat at the front of the bus, stood her ground and changed history. It's incredible to think about what just one person can do if they believe in a cause. What if we all took a stand on something we truly believe is wrong...rascism, child abuse, war, world hunger, homelessness...how much of a difference could we make?

“I am leaving this legacy to all of you ... to bring peace, justice, equality, love and a fulfillment of what our lives should be. Without vision, the people will perish, and without courage and inspiration, dreams will die — the dream of freedom and peace.” Rosa Parks, 1988

Like, totally for sure, Dude!

Oh my God, so tonight is like this totally bitchin' halloween party, and my girlfriends and I are like, totally, not wearing some grody old dweebie costumes, you know? We thought, like oh my God, we can for sure like dress like the 80's to the max! It'll be like totally awesome!

Not that any of us are going as a bowhead preppy, because like, gag me with a spoon, that would just gross me out the door! So, anyway, like last night we had to like go shopping to like pick up some like last minute things, and like some of this stuff is like BARF, so gross, like any of us would like be caught dead in that! Anyway, like, we did find these totally trippendicular boots! I was like, oh my God, I like have to like totally have those!

This party is like going to be like the most, you know? Like, oh my God, like I can't wait!!

With apologies to Dino...

"How lucky can one (gal) be
I kissed (him) and (he) kissed me.
Like the fella once said,
ain't that a kick in head?

The room was completely black,
I hugged (him) and (he) hugged back.
Like the sailor said quote,
'ain't that a hole in the boat?'

My head keeps spinnin'
I go to sleep and keep grinnin'
If this is just the beginnin'
My life is going to be beautiful.

I've sunshine enough to spread
It's just like the fella said
Tell me quick ain't that a kick in the head..."

Dean Martin, "Ain't that a Kick in the Head"

Stop staring at my ass...

What's the deal with automated toilets? Do they creep anyone else out or is it just me? I don't really like the idea of an electronic eye eyeballing my ass as I'm using the toilet. It's creepy. And kind of Big Brother-ish. Do you suppose this is what George Orwell meant? And really, what kind of lazy assed society are we that we need automatic toilet flushers? Isn't sort of a reflex to turn and push the handle? What's next automated butt wipers?

I'll tell you what we really need in public restrooms: automated handwashers. And I don't mean automated sinks where the water is freezing cold and only runs in .002 second spurts. What I mean is there should be some sort of automated spray dye at the door for when people bypass the sink completely and for those who think just a splash of water is enough. Wouldn't it be great if there was some sort of system that would either lock the door of the restroom until they washed their hands or would spray their face purple so you could tell by looking at them that they are nasty motherfuckers? Although I don't think walking around for one day looking like Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is nearly enough punishment for these folks, it would get the point across, don't you think? Yeah, me too.

Politically Correct

God, I love Bill Maher!

"Mr. President, this job can't be fun for you anymore. There's no more money to spend--you used up all of that. You can't start another war because you used up the army. And now, darn the luck, the rest of your term has become the Bush family nightmare: helping poor people. Listen to your Mom.

"The cupboard's bare, the credit cards maxed out. No one's speaking to you. Mission accomplished. Now it's time to do what you've always done best: lose interest and walk away. Like you did with your military service and the oil company and the baseball team. It's time. Time to move on and try the next fantasy job. How about cowboy or space man? Now I know what you're saying: there's so many other things that you, as President, could involve yourself in. Please don't. I know, I know. There's a lot left to do; there's a war with Venezuela; eliminating the sales tax on yachts; turning the space program over to the church; Social Security to Fannie Mae; giving embryos the vote...

"But, Sir, none of that is going to happen now. Why? Because you govern like Billy Joel drives. You've performed so poorly I'm surprised that you haven't given yourself a medal. You're
a catastrophe that walks like a man. Herbert Hoover was a shitty president, but even he never conceded an entire city to rising water and snakes.

"On your watch, we've lost almost all of our allies, the surplus, four airliners, two trade centers, a piece of the Pentagon and the City of New Orleans. Maybe you're just not lucky. I'm not saying you don't love this country. I'm just wondering how much worse it could be if you were on the other side.

"So, yes, God does speak to you. What he is saying is: 'Take a hint.'"

from "Real Time with Bill Maher"

Press 1 for aggravation...

I have just spent the last 45 minutes in automated phone system hell and I'm about to go postal on someone. The 1-800 customer service number for SBC is a misnomer, there is no customer service on that line at all...just a shitload of dead ends and cussing (on my end, anyway.) The first go around was just a lesson in aggravation. None of the options were even close to what I needed. And I listend closely to the following options as I was advised to at the beginning of the call. After listening to them twice, I thought I had found where 'repair' might fit. No dice. It lead me back to the original list of options. I finally just hit 3 for the hell of it to see where it would lead. Some fucktard on the other end told me I had hit the wrong option and before I could ask him where 'fix my goddamned phone line you ass monkey' is in the list of options, he connected me back to the original '1-800-are you really expecting service' automated hell. Finally, after pushing random options, the phone Gods took pity on me and I found my way to Denise. Now, at first I was excited to talk to Denise. I thought she'd lead me out of customer service hell. Ha! Silly me.

Why is it that the system asks you to enter either your account number or your phone number and then when you do finally get an honest to God human fucking being they ask you for the same damned information? TWICE?! Sure, SBC Denise, here's my info again...pay attention this time. Then, she asks what the problem seems to be...well, let's see, I had 15 options to choose from to get me to you and since there wasn't one for 'my fucking phone lines aren't working' I chose option 6 'repairs.' Is that not specific enough for you? She then asked if it was a business or home account...isn't that information right in front of you? It's a business account, Denise. I don't have 6 phone lines, two fax lines and two DSL lines at my house. Denise then asks what I'm calling to report. Again. I repeat that I have no phone service on my business phones, which is kind of important to the day to day running of said business. She then asks if I am calling from the phone line in need of repair. Seriously, she did. And I think I wept a little. She then tells me she's going to run a test on the lines and I might want to let anyone know who was talking on the line that their call might be interrupted. Um, Denise, I'm not trying to be repetitive here, but there is no one on any of the lines...THEY AREN'T WORKING!!!! But sure, I'll let them know. After a few minutes, she lets me know that yes, they do detect some trouble on the line. No shit, Sherlock. Thanks, Denise, good to know that I'm not just randomly making shit up. She then asks if I could email some account info to the 'service center.' I reiterate to Denise that neither of my DSL lines are currently working. She then asks if I'd like to report trouble on those lines as well. Um, taking a wild stab here, but yes? Aren't all 10 numbers listed on the account? And didn't I say all lines weren't working when we started in on this debacle half an hour ago? Then she asks what state the business is located in...again, is the account information not RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU? She must have heard me scream that in my head, because she then said "oh, wait, I see...Kansas City, Montana." Uh, no, MO is for Missouri, not Montana. She then says close enough and asks what the abbreviation for Montana is. While banging my head on the desk, I told her it was MT and that Montana and Missouri are not that close at all, there are about 5 states between them. Finally she tells me that there might be a charge to repair the line, blah, blah, blah, do I still want them to come out. Well, yes, I do since I don't think I can McGyver it with a paper clip, some super glue and a tampon. Although if it means never having to deal with SBC again, I just might try it.

Free for all Friday

Lots of jumbled thoughts, so brace yourself...

• Why is it okay for someone to insult you if they follow the insult with 'sorry, no offense'? Um, yeah, I'm offended you asshat. And you're not really sorry.
• I had the best freakin' dinner last night.
• A moment of silence please, Nick and Jessica have split. I'm not sure how I'll go on.
• And the second sign of the apocalypse: Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are expecting a new little clam. If there is anything such as karma in this world, Katie will suffer from post-partum depression and after Tom's suggestion of vitamins and exercise fails, he will be knocking on the door of Pfizer's CEO begging for Prozac. And the CEO will tell him to fuck off.
• My friend Heather gave me a mini Potato Head, so now I have my Tater Tot, but no Mrs. Potato Head. I had to explain to Tot yesterday that the Tater Stork brought him. I don't think he believed me.
• When asked, the Magic 8 Ball predicted "Very Doubtful" when asked if the Chiefs would lose again this week. Of course this is our bye week, so the Magic 8 Ball is 2 for 4.
• Nicholas Cage and his wife had a son this week and named the kid Kal-el (Superman's Kryptonite name). Yeah, you read that right: Superman's name. I guess Clark Kent was too prosaic. Oh, Nicholas, it pains me to say so since I have loved you since 'Valley Girl,' but you are dead to me. Dead to me.
• And finally, my mother has brought to my attention that I use the word 'fuck' a lot in my posts. She has asked that I curb it's usage a bit; my response is fuck that. No offense :) But I have come up with a handy little Potty Mouth Replacement Guide you might want to print out and keep handy, Mere.

Potty Mouth Replacement Guide for Da Mama

1. crap = crud
2. shit = shoot or shhhhhi-take mushrooms
3. Jesus Christ = cheese and rice
4. Goddamn = good ham or gosh durnit
5. fuck = fudge or fiddlesticks
6. asshole or asshat = butthead
7. butthead = posterior head
8. shit for brains = not very smart
9. asswipe = toilet paper
10. bitch = not a nice person (female)
11. son of a bitch = son of a not nice person (female)
12. dickhead = not a nice person (male)
13. dick = Richard
14. fucktard/fuckstick = an incredibly annoying and/or stupid person

Hope it helps, Mere. I will amend the list as needed. (You're erasing my name right now aren't you?)

Happy weekend, y'all!

You say "toe-may-toe," I say "Die, little fucker!"

Three summers ago, my mom was being driven bat-shit crazy because squirrels were getting in her garden and eating her tomatos. She had tried everything, cat hair around the plants, a BB gun, even poisoning the little fuckers. Nothing worked. She'd be out there working in the garden and muttering to herself about getting the furry little varmits. It was obvious: Mere was turning into Carl Spackler from 'Caddyshack.' When I'd stop by and find her outside, I'd holler out the patio door, "What's going on Carl?" I know we were only teasing her, but just to be safe, my sister and I checked the garage for explosives. Didn't find any, but mere is a crafty one... She was determined to find a way to rid her precious garden of them once and for all. Something had to be done.

One evening, mere called and said she had the perfect plan. I asked if it entailed squirrels made from plastique. It didn't. That weekend, I went over to help. Mom's idea was to put chicken wire on the inside of the tomato cages to stop them from just slipping in between the wider openings. Pretty brilliant, my mom. So armed with gloves, chicken wire, wire cutters, and bailing wire we went to work. Did I mention that it was summer? In Kansas City? 98 degrees and humid as hell? And that mom has like 80 gazillion tomato plants? After a few hours, we finally finished and were feeling mighty proud of ourselves. We cleaned up our mess, sat on the deck to enjoy some much deserved sun tea, and gazed at our handy-work. I, for one, was glad for several things. First, we wouldn't have to commit mom to an institution; second, we didn't resort to the blowing shit up; and third, we had outsmarted the furry little fuckers.

As we were sitting there, I swear I heard the strains of "I'm all right...don't nobody worry 'bout me...why you got to give me advice...why can't you just let me be..." I looked at the garden and there was a goddamn squirrel sitting on the outside of the tomato cage eating a fucking tomato. Mom and I looked at each other with the most incredulous 'what the fuck' expressions and turned back to the garden just in time to see a chipmunk come darting out of the cage with a tomato, drop it next to the squirrel and go back for another! Fuckin' varmit got himself a mother-fucking accomplice!!! Mom and I just took our iced tea inside and didn't look back. Probably a good thing, too, I'm sure they were doing the groundhog dance and laughing at us.

Things I learned this weekend

Lessons learned on Thursday:

• setting up for the American Royal BBQ is just as much fun as the actual competition
• heeled boots are not the best foot gear for hanging out at the Royal
• threading Christmas lights through a food tent is harder than it sounds
• Pat Joe is a perv

Lessons learned on Friday:

• calling the police to report a suspicious package sets off a chain of events that last for several hours
• the bomb squad truck is very discreet; however, the techs wear shirts that say "BOMB SQUAD" in big, bold letters across the back - not so discreet
• bomb techs have weird senses of humor
• the media will show up and ask stupid questions and get testy with you when you say 'no comment'
• several local TV reporters are much, much shorter in person
• it takes 7 cops, 2 bomb techs, a fully suited HAZ-MAT team, and 2 firetrucks with firefighters in full gear to tell you that there is no threat
• JB's full-blooded Polack father is a vodka pusher
• Polish vodka is very dangerous
• Drinking too much at the rehersal dinner is ill-advised when you have to be at the church the next morning by 9am

Lessons learned Saturday:

• Up-do's in So JoCo will run you about $65
• Mimosas in the salon while getting your hair and make-up done at the ass crack of dawn is a great idea
• wedding picture sessions never start on time
• the groom and his groomsmen walking up to the church through the parking lot looks a lot like the opening scene of "Resevoir Dogs"
• it's okay to beat the bride at foos-ball while waiting for the ceremony to start
• not bowing at the altar in a Catholic church does not go unnoticed by the mother of the groom
• I still cry at weddings
• drinking a combination of beer, champagne, Polish vodka (obviously the lesson from Friday didn't take), and Cap't & Coke at the reception and on a nearly empty stomach equals sleeping it off in your car

Lessons learned on Sunday:

• tailgating with a hang-over is not a good time
• $70 for a scalped ticket is too much (especially after the game starts)
• wearing a T-shirt with 'I heart Dick' gets a lot of attention at the stadium
• most people don't think the shirt means Dick Vermeil
• losing a game you should've won is painful
• T.O. is a taunting ass-hat
• walking from the backside of Arrowhead to the Clarion takes about 15 minutes
• and it's mostly uphill
• hooking up with Philly fans in the hotel bar is a good time
• hooking up with hot, nice, firemen Philly fans named Dom, Tony, Ryan and Ferdinand is an even better time
• spending four hours yelling in the stadium, five hours talking over people in the bar on very little sleep makes your voice crack like Peter Brady's
• 'water' is pronounced 'wooder' in Philly-ese
• free beer is good beer

Lessons learned on Monday:

• having the foresight to take the day off after a long, drunk, tiring weekend is smart
• napping for three hours in the afternoon is brilliant