Headlines
Police Arrest Naked Man Found Covered in Peanut Butter & Chocolate
Man Dies After Swallowing Dentures During Sex
'Soul Train' creator Don Cornelius dead
James Farentino dies at 73
White Castle Considers Offering Beer and Wine(I thought is where people went when already drunk)
America is Drunk(someone needs to slap Dr. Keith Ablow or buy him a drink or two)
Occupiers Pissing on Churches Housing Them (Literally)
I guess JoePa can discuss with God if he "did the right thing" now..
Dark Basement List
That’s what Nicole calls it. A countdown of lists about all and sundry. But since I have detailed a lot of that in different lists, I will be a bit more creative with mine.
Ten Worst Earworms
- We Built This City -- Starship
- Friday -- Rebecca Black
- Moves Like Jagger -- Maroon 5
- Bohemian Rhapsody -- Queen
- Livin’ La Vida Loca -- Ricky Martin
- Who Let the Dogs Out? -- The Baha Men
- Forget You* -- Cee Lo Green
- Material Girl - Madonna
- Heat of the Moment -- Asia
- Nothing Compares 2 U - Sinead O’Connor
Aggie’s Challenge: Ten Things
Aggie posted a challenge over at her other home. A simple challenge; Ten favorites.
Here’s mine:
#1– Favorite candy: Necco Wafers. If you don’t know what these are, you are a bad, bad person. I’ve loved these since I was a little kid.
#2– Favorite movie: Fuck. So many. If I picked one based on the number of times I’ve seen it, it’d probably be a tie between The Long Weekend and Double Indemnity.
#3– Favorite drink: Manhattan. Although I’m generally too lazy for that so bourbon with a bit of soda.
#4– Favorite dessert: I’m hugely boring here. Ice cream. Vanilla or chocolate. Nothing fancy.
#5– Favorite city: I’m not terribly exciting here either. Nacogdoches, Texas. Its a small town but has just about anything you’d need. And with SFA University there, its always stocked with good looking women.
#6– Favorite pasttime: Geekery.
#7– Favorite clothing: Flannel pajama pants and a tshirt.
#8– Favorite animal: Cows. After all, they are my favorite food.
#9– Favorite flower: I got nothing. Even if I had a favorite flower I wouldn’t know what it was called.
#10 Favorite music: This one’s a moving target for me. It depends on my mood. Lately, blues.
So there’s my list. Where’s yours?
Samuel L. Jackson, You’re My Only Hope
Last night was a typical Friday night at Casa de Aggie. One kid had a friend over, one kid was having a chatfest on FaceBook, and the last kid was enjoying the fact that she had complete and total control of the remote. That really isn’t a big deal, since she always does. But all in all, we had a nice quiet evening.
Until Hell came to Snaketown.
This is Aro.
My Eldest’s pet snake.
She is usually found in her natural habitat of glass tank with lid.
Her turn-ons are small rodents, warm rocks, and small dark places.
Turn-offs include taking baths in cold water, glass candle holders around bathtubs, and dogs.
Mostly dogs.
Especially dogs.
As I explained, last night was a rather quiet evening. Until about 2 AM, when Eldest banged on my bedroom door and said, loudly and urgently, “MOM!! I NEED YOU!!”
Instinctively, I grabbed my gun and was about to jump out of bed, when she went on with, “I need your help! Aro is gone!!”
(Insert groggy groan here, followed by silent curses)
I told her to start looking and that I would be right out. Placing the gun away, I went out, and we began a rather fruitless search for a snake who had a six hour lead on us. The good news: neither dog had bloody fangs. The bad news: there are too many places in which a small snake can hide. So, for now, I will be cleaning up and examining corners, looking for bone pellets or shed skin.
So, who wants to come for a visit??
UPDATE!!
I took John’s advice and began to think like a snake. I found her five minutes after that, in the hallway closet, under two backpacks, one overnight bag, two scarves, a pair of snowboots (yeah, still have them from Germany), and a cloak. I also found a brand new Risk board game that the kids are playing upstairs. Son had said he had “looked” in the closet last night, so I asked him what he had seen on the floor.
Son: A pair of boots….
Me: And?
Son: I think my old backpack….
Me: And???
Son: and…..maybe something else?
Me: Suuuuuuure you looked…
Sheesh!
Keeping Your Cool
OMIGOD!!!
My A/C decided to take a swan dive last night, only with no graceful cry as it died. Just a forlorn racket from the unit outside. This being Texas, A/C techs are in high demand. It’s one of the reasons I hope one of my kids gets in the business. But because they are in high demand, I have to wait my turn. So, I’m keeping the house as dark as possible, not using lights, keeping the fans on, and oh yes…. not cooking!!
But since I do have to feed the kidlets, I am relying on cold foods for this evening’s meal. So, I shall be serving cold cuts, cheeses, crusty bread, and Caprese salad.
Incredibly simple to make, and so gooooood!!!
Caprese Salad
3 whole ripe tomatoes, sliced thick
12 oz Mozzarella cheese, sliced thick
Basil leaves
Olive oil
Kosher salt
Ground pepper
On a platter, arrange tomato and mozzarella slices as shown, tucking in basil leaves in between layers. Drizzle with oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste. In addition, you can take some balsamic vinegar reduction and drizzle on top. I avoid it because I have picky children…
And to wash this down, plenty of white wine. For me 
The Price of Beauty
Back in November, my sister asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I had told her I wanted an 18 inch long machete. She thought I was kidding, so she went out and purchased a gift certificate to the local mani/ pedi/ facial place. She put a lot of thought into that gift, because she is always at a loss when it comes to gift giving to her older sister. I think my whole family has the same issue. For the life of me, I don’t understand what is so hard about getting me knives or ordnance. But I digress.
The one and only time I had a facial was back in 2001. Hubby very kindly purchased a complete spa experience for me, to include a massage, lunch, facial, and haircut and style. I spent the entire day there, and completely enjoyed it. But it had been a while since I had been, so I went thinking this would take about 40 minutes.
I was wrong…
It started out innocently enough. I was told to wrap myself in a towelwrap and lay under the steam. I lay under the full force of hot clouds for ten minutes. Thank goodness I am from the tropics. Next, the specialist placed some cleansing lotion on my face and neck, letting it sit for a few minutes, before applying a scalding hot towel on my face, impeding breathing, and crying. Once that was done, she applied some majikal stoof that was based with peppermint oil. OMIGAWD!!! MY SKIN IS ON FIRE!!!!!!!!111ELEVENTY!!! I am whimpering by now, and the specialist asks if I’m doing ok. And of course, I said I was fine. She proceeds to place another hot towel, which I barely notice because of the peppermint zinging through my pores.
Next up, instruments of torture. Now, I don’t have the most perfect skin. But really, did she have to take a freakin’ RAKE to it?? She began with my nose, which does have nerve endings on it, along with a host of blackheads and imperfections. She is at this for almost thirty minutes. Then she begins on my cheeks and chin. The longer she does this, the more I realize how totally deformed my skin must be. I am patiently waiting for her to finish, and feel my body relax when I hear her put away the rake. I take a deep breath, and BAM!!! Another hot towel on my face. By now, my pores can be sold off as condos. I figure she is done by now, and ask what is next. She replies, “Now is exfoliation.” How bad can it be?
After the assault on my pores, and the peppermint oil, the answer is, pretty fucking bad. She takes some scrub that is formulated to be “gentle” and begins to grind it into my face and neck. She grinds for a few minutes, making sure to really get it into the wrinkles, I imagine. When she is done, I breathe a sigh of relief, which ends in a small yelp as yet another freakin’ hot towel is draped on my face. She wipes the sand away ( I assume it’s sand), and begins to lightly apply another concoction on my face, this time a cooling one. By this time I realize my entire body is completely tense, so I force myself to relax. Just in time to get a hot towel plopped on my face. By now, I am praying to God to let her forget to finish the facial, or for the place to lose electricity. She then begins a “massage” on my neck and shoulders, and by massage, I mean her hands are crushing any and all resistance by my muscles. Finally, she tells me she is done, and I get up rather wobbly, my left eye trying to adjust.
For the record, I don’t have a low tolerance for pain. After all, I gave birth twice without the aid of an epidural. I do have a low tolerance for strangers digging into my skin. I think I will make sure to give my sister a gift certificate for a facial for her birthday. Unlike me, she would love it.
Oh, and did I mention the specialist was Chinese? That should explain a lot
Mom Mobile
I have been the somewhat-proud, often-times frustrated owner of a minivan for about eight years. Having three kids close in age necessitated a larger vehicle to accommodate car seats and snacks and toys and books and everything a parent has to drag with him or her to make the kids happy and quiet.
But my kidlets are growing now. And as much as they would hate it, they can now sit next to each other without screaming about one touching the other. Ok, two would sit fine, the Little One still does it, mostly because it bugs the other two no end. But I have been thinking of getting an upgrade:
Yep, the BMW 3 Series hardtop convertible. And unlike the Z Series, my ass wouldn’t feel like it was dragging on the floor.
Yes, yes… I know I’m just dreaming. But don’t wake me up just yet
Update [ArmedGeek]:
Since Aggie posted something she’d like to be in, I thought I’d post something I’d like to be in…
Yes, yes, I know I’m just dreaming. But don’t wake me up just yet
The Day After
Mother’s Day came and went, and as usual, it couldn’t be normal. The day started out with the kids sleeping in, so I got up to make my coffee, scandalizing Little One who had chosen to sleep on the couch so she could get up and serve me breakfast in bed. She kept bugging me to go back to bed, but once I’m up, I’m up, so she made me banana muffins and cut strawberries up with the knife I bought for her.
What??
Anyway, the morning went fine. I had a nice bunch of loot from my mom and sisters, as well as a tiny box of chocolates that Little One purchased unbeknownst to me. Yes, I did tear up. But the best surprise came from Hubby:
These had arrived on Saturday, and Eldest had kept them hidden upstairs. Two dozen of the loveliest, lushest roses I have ever received. And he had arranged for them before he told told me to get myself something nice. Which I did. A lovely rose brooch. He knows me very well.
As to the rest of the day? Suffice it to say, there were three last-minute projects, paperwork to turn in for pre-registration, and picky kids who couldn’t agree on dinner, so fast food FTW!! And at Midnight, things finally settled down.
Peace is only a vegetable around here
On Funerals and Llamas
A friend of mine is going through a very rough time. She is dealing with several family members passing in a short period of time, and her response has been to draw from humor in life, and from those closest to her. Yesterday she asked several friends that when her time comes, everyone who attends her funeral must wear their most comfortable robe, PJs and slippers.
Y’all know I wouldn’t fail at honoring this request.
But it got me to thinking…. what would I want at my memorial service? I say memorial service because I wish to be cremated, at least, whatever is left after donating organs and so forth. I just want a big party with plenty of food and booze and for everyone to wear something red, and the gals to wear red lipstick, and the kids to have a petting zoo complete with goats and ponies, and maybe a llama, and a band that plays Big Band music.
A llama??
Well, yes. One of my fondest memories is driving up to Hubby’s grandparents, and passing a beautiful dairy farm. The kids would get all excited and yell “COWS, MOMMA!!!” and Hubby would say, “Not cows…LLAMAS!!!” And the kids would look again, and look at him like he was an idiot, and say, “Daddy, those are cows. Llamas have long necks.” And he would say, “Llamas drink beer???” And they would just die laughing at him.
And that’s why I would want a llama. Because the best way to celebrate someone’s life is to recall fond memories. Hubby would probably say it would be easier to just dump my ashes in a river. I would be ok with that, too.
As long as there’s a llama!!!
Defending Your Life
I love that movie. First, I am a HUGE Albert Brooks fan, and second, the premise of the movie just tickles me. After dying, you go to Judgment City to await a trial of sorts, defending the way you lived to see if you “move forward”. Yes, just move forward. It’s a movie about facing your fears on Earth. A really interesting take on Afterlife. And lately, with the passing of a close family friend, I have wondered if I have done enough to defend my life.
Death is a frightening aspect. Some of us do not wish to face it and avoid thinking about it for the most part. Others, especially those who know when their time will come, face up to the end with great dignity. Still, I have known people who live like they are dying, to quote Tim McGraw.
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSE8NJHn7ss
I have been afraid sometimes, letting the fear overtake me. And I know that, if I were to pass away and defend my life, I would not move forward. But that is why we have second chances, and why we make plans to do and see and be everything we can before the time comes. I know I’ll never see the Himalayas, or the Great Wall of China. I do know I’ll make it to the Taj Mahal and the Great Pyramids of Giza Plateau.
And I do know, with everything that I am, that for the rest of the life I do have, I won’t be afraid anymore. In fact, with that pronouncement I think people should start being afraid of me!
So, what are y’all’s fears? Grammar? Getting mauled by a bear? Not finding shoes in your size??
Challenge of the Friar
Once again, a gauntlet has been thrown. The Curtal Friar posted a challenge to other bloggers, mainly to post pics of ourselves as teenagers. Lucky for me Sadly, I have no pics of me as a teenager uploaded. My sister, being the kind and generous soul that she is, had one of me at the tender age of ten at her Facebook page, which she insisted I use.
Don’t bother clicking on it, since it will not embiggenify. Thank goodness. I was not a very feminine looking girl, since I tend to favor my dad, who is a handsome man, but still a man. I briefly toyed with the idea of posting a current pic of me, but I have no idea how to do the bar-over-the-eyes thing. I can argue the finer points of the fall of the Roman Empire, but technologically, I am a n00b.
Update:
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