Was I sleeping when the patriotism went out of the 4th of July? I know it's red, white and blue and all the flags come out but isn't this the day when we're suppose to watch fireworks and celebrate our country and what it is to be an American?
Why then do they play songs from Miley Cyrus when the fireworks start? Whatever happen to George M Cohan songs? I've asked people this question and no one seems to notice the change. I went to a Padre game for the 4th last year and kicked back and watched the blazing sky light up to such tear jerking tunes as Summer Loving from Grease.
We're at war, our soldiers are dying for the very day we're celebrating. Would it hurt the politically correct Gods of Fireworks to play God Bless America? Oh, that's right, we can't say God. Okay, I'd settle for Your A Grand Old Flag. But no. Instead they blast some country song about a back front porch swing.
I was so annoyed by this that this year I watched the Boston Pops celebration on T.V. I thought for sure they would do some big fife and drum presentation. I mean, this is Boston Mass. one of the original 13 colonies! I was wrong. But I shouldn't complain, I mean after all they did squeeze in a few minutes of the hour show to give us old folks a patriotic medley.
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Monday, July 6, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
What is wrong with people?
Why is the world going nuts over Michael Jackson? Okay, he was very talented and I was a fan of his songs. When they come on the radio, I enjoy them still.
Why now that he's dead, probably from his own drug abuse that people refuse to admit that he did, are people forgetting the nut he was? Michael Jackson was a sick man. They keep talking about his estate and how much dept he was in. Not because he bought the remains to the elephant man, or his paying a voodoo priest to slay 40 some cows in order to curse his enemies, but because he paid off families of the little boys he molested! He paid off people left and right for their silence. Millions and Millions of dollars. I don't know what is worse, the parents who allowed themselves to be bought off or Waco Jackoff himself. Let's not forget that people! What grown man sleeps with little boys?
Why now that he's dead, probably from his own drug abuse that people refuse to admit that he did, are people forgetting the nut he was? Michael Jackson was a sick man. They keep talking about his estate and how much dept he was in. Not because he bought the remains to the elephant man, or his paying a voodoo priest to slay 40 some cows in order to curse his enemies, but because he paid off families of the little boys he molested! He paid off people left and right for their silence. Millions and Millions of dollars. I don't know what is worse, the parents who allowed themselves to be bought off or Waco Jackoff himself. Let's not forget that people! What grown man sleeps with little boys?
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Men-urg!
Myhusband can put together computers, televisons, phones in a blink of an eye. Why is it he can't grasp the art of removing the old toilet paper roll and putting on a new one?
WTF?
I'm a So Cal girl. Born and raised in the San Fernando Valley, like oh my god! Now I guess it's OMG, but anyway, the valley people are not known for their chattiness, especially to strangers. I lived next door to a man and woman for over 25 years and never spoke to them. So, needless to say when we moved to San Diego and met friendly people, I was blown away. I kept looking around in surprise, "are you talking to me?"
Okay, that said, my husband and I are in line at the grocery check out. All our things lined up neat on the conveyer belt. My husband moved up to the credit card thingy and says to the checker- (We're learning to make convo)"hi, how are you?"
It seemed like a harmless question.
This over bleached blond, frosty pink lipped woman who has begun scanning our items launches into what could only be called WTF.
"I envy people who can cook." (She says this as she scans a frozen pizza) "I took home ec and if my teacher hadn't been such a (she whispers the word bitch) I might have learned something."
I realize now that I shouldn't have gasped. It only egged her on.
"Everyone hated her. She was so skinny that if she turned sideways you wouldn't see her. She told me I would never amount to anything."
I thought about pointing out that she was close to mid life and worked as a check out girl for Vons, but she was double bagging the heavy items, so I kept my mouth shut.
"I told her that I would like to make the dress for her funeral."
She nodded at me like this was a real zigger of an insult, but I didn't get it. I added the proper "Oh my God, good for you," just for safe measure.
"One of the reasons I hated her was because my best friend at the time was only fifteen and needed her help because she got behind in class. But this teacher was so mean she wouldn't help her with extra credit." She shoved through my wheat bread. "Oh, good price on that! Anyway, the reason she needed extra help was because her father raped her. Do you have any coupons?"
My husbands just gawked and shook his head. I tried to wander away to the Bag O Ice section but he pulled me back with this "oh hell no!" look on his face.
"Can you believe that? Now poor thing was seven months pregnant by her father and late on her homework and the teacher wouldn 't help her. She was never late with anything!"
Ah, she was late with at least one thing.
My husband tried to change the subject. "Weren't the stuffed olives on sale?"
"Buy two get one free. You only bought one. Tell you what, I'll have Frankie run and get you another bottle. It will just take a minute. So, my girlfriend is so distraught over everything she hangs herself. "
"Ah, don't worry Frankie!" he called. "That's okay, we don't another bottle of olives," he tried to chuckle. "We probably won't even eat these. I don't even know why we bought them." Poor Ky just kind of freaked in this uncomfortable chatter feast. His nose is perspiring, a tale tell sign he's stressed. The poor man grabs for the only question he can think of. He asks the clerk how she is. Again. I don't know what he was thinking. It didn't matter. She didn't hear him. She just kept ringing up our giant box of two ply toilet paper and talking.
" The sheriff said it murder right off the bat. He knew -what seven month pregnant woman goes out on a ledge just for the..." She handed him a receipt and a big smile. "You saved twelve dollars! On the bottom of the receipt there is a survey. You can fill it out if you want. You might win prizes!"
I smile as my husband pushs the cart out the door as fast as it will go. I'm still staring at the clerk. Isn't she going to finish the damn story? No, because she's already moved onto the next customer, now she's talking about how she's going to rescue a wild horse. I just stare at the receipt. Finally, he yells over his shoulder. "Come, let's go. You know you're not going to fill that out."
"I might, it depends. Do they have a box to mark weird?"
Okay, that said, my husband and I are in line at the grocery check out. All our things lined up neat on the conveyer belt. My husband moved up to the credit card thingy and says to the checker- (We're learning to make convo)"hi, how are you?"
It seemed like a harmless question.
This over bleached blond, frosty pink lipped woman who has begun scanning our items launches into what could only be called WTF.
"I envy people who can cook." (She says this as she scans a frozen pizza) "I took home ec and if my teacher hadn't been such a (she whispers the word bitch) I might have learned something."
I realize now that I shouldn't have gasped. It only egged her on.
"Everyone hated her. She was so skinny that if she turned sideways you wouldn't see her. She told me I would never amount to anything."
I thought about pointing out that she was close to mid life and worked as a check out girl for Vons, but she was double bagging the heavy items, so I kept my mouth shut.
"I told her that I would like to make the dress for her funeral."
She nodded at me like this was a real zigger of an insult, but I didn't get it. I added the proper "Oh my God, good for you," just for safe measure.
"One of the reasons I hated her was because my best friend at the time was only fifteen and needed her help because she got behind in class. But this teacher was so mean she wouldn't help her with extra credit." She shoved through my wheat bread. "Oh, good price on that! Anyway, the reason she needed extra help was because her father raped her. Do you have any coupons?"
My husbands just gawked and shook his head. I tried to wander away to the Bag O Ice section but he pulled me back with this "oh hell no!" look on his face.
"Can you believe that? Now poor thing was seven months pregnant by her father and late on her homework and the teacher wouldn 't help her. She was never late with anything!"
Ah, she was late with at least one thing.
My husband tried to change the subject. "Weren't the stuffed olives on sale?"
"Buy two get one free. You only bought one. Tell you what, I'll have Frankie run and get you another bottle. It will just take a minute. So, my girlfriend is so distraught over everything she hangs herself. "
"Ah, don't worry Frankie!" he called. "That's okay, we don't another bottle of olives," he tried to chuckle. "We probably won't even eat these. I don't even know why we bought them." Poor Ky just kind of freaked in this uncomfortable chatter feast. His nose is perspiring, a tale tell sign he's stressed. The poor man grabs for the only question he can think of. He asks the clerk how she is. Again. I don't know what he was thinking. It didn't matter. She didn't hear him. She just kept ringing up our giant box of two ply toilet paper and talking.
" The sheriff said it murder right off the bat. He knew -what seven month pregnant woman goes out on a ledge just for the..." She handed him a receipt and a big smile. "You saved twelve dollars! On the bottom of the receipt there is a survey. You can fill it out if you want. You might win prizes!"
I smile as my husband pushs the cart out the door as fast as it will go. I'm still staring at the clerk. Isn't she going to finish the damn story? No, because she's already moved onto the next customer, now she's talking about how she's going to rescue a wild horse. I just stare at the receipt. Finally, he yells over his shoulder. "Come, let's go. You know you're not going to fill that out."
"I might, it depends. Do they have a box to mark weird?"
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sigh-I have a headache
I'm suppose to be editing. I'm always suppose to be editing. I find it ironic that I fought to be an author and now that an editor is waiting for my rewrite to publish my first book, I suddenly don't have it in me anymore. I either have a headache or there is something really good on TV-a rerun that I've only seen three times and I just happen to be a the really good part.
It's already 10:30. If I start now, then by the time I get out my colored markers and get my self situated in a quiet, well lit place where my neck won't hurt when I look down, then it's almost 11:00. But then I realize I didn't get myself something to drink and so I have to go back down stairs to get some water and by then it's definitely 11:00. By 11:15 I'll need to go to the bathroom because I'm drinking water . My husband will hear me moving around and yell up to me to see why I'm not editing, so then I have to get back up and go out into the hallway to yell down at him that I didn't hear what he said. Then we'll have a convo about what he's watching and how it would be better if I was watching it with him, but I can't I'll say because I need to edit. Then I'll go back into my office and shut the door, but it's hot, so I open a window and stare out at this really big cool looking moon. By then it's midnight and I'm still on the first page of chapter 28. And then of course, there's the headache...
So, I might as well just go to bed now and get started in my editing procrastion much earlier tomorrow.
It's already 10:30. If I start now, then by the time I get out my colored markers and get my self situated in a quiet, well lit place where my neck won't hurt when I look down, then it's almost 11:00. But then I realize I didn't get myself something to drink and so I have to go back down stairs to get some water and by then it's definitely 11:00. By 11:15 I'll need to go to the bathroom because I'm drinking water . My husband will hear me moving around and yell up to me to see why I'm not editing, so then I have to get back up and go out into the hallway to yell down at him that I didn't hear what he said. Then we'll have a convo about what he's watching and how it would be better if I was watching it with him, but I can't I'll say because I need to edit. Then I'll go back into my office and shut the door, but it's hot, so I open a window and stare out at this really big cool looking moon. By then it's midnight and I'm still on the first page of chapter 28. And then of course, there's the headache...
So, I might as well just go to bed now and get started in my editing procrastion much earlier tomorrow.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
The little Tomato that couldn't
I've been trying to get into gardening. I bought myself a beef steak tomato plant and got so excited when I was able to pluck the unbeef steaky but edible red tomato from the sweet smelling vine and eat it. Wow! I made this! Well, not technically, but you know what I mean.
The vine got healthy, the fruit plenty and I was proud. At one point I looked out on my patio and found the vine alive with fourteen nice ripping tomato's. One of them, just about ready to cut from the vine and enjoy in a sandwhich. The next morning, I went out with sheers in hand gasped. All but two were gone!
I ranted with a strange sense that hovered between anger and pride. I blamed my neighbors who undoubtedly looked into my small yard with envy. Someone had a salad and was too lazy to purchase tomatos for themselves and snuck into my yard late at night. Probably waiting hours after I went to bed, waiting well into morning for my bedroom light to finally snap off so they could take mine. The poor vine looked empty. I hoped silently they weren't good. Grumbled a few choice curses about growing moles and facial hair. But not to give up, I watched it with protective eyes, watching the new fruit flourish on the vine, waiting for the first sign of red to grace the growing green tomato. "I've got five now!" I would tell my husband. I'm not sure he even listened.
Once again, the day came to cut my pride from the tall vine and share it with friend and family. They only got one slice each because the beef steak it was suppose to be, was not. Anyway, I was foiled once again. They were gone.
As I glance around my small garden with tearing eyes, I noticed so were my roses. And the blooms from my jasmine bush. What the hell? Some wicked soul had it in for my garden. I just about gave up on gardening until one morning I was awoken from sleep by an irritating "caw" outside our bedroom window. It was then I realized what was taking my tomatos. Crows! No wonder farmers have scarecrows!
I haven't figured out how to stop them yet, but I did notice this morning, one particular fat black one has an odd looking mole on the side of his beak and if you look closely at it, you'd swear it has hair!
The vine got healthy, the fruit plenty and I was proud. At one point I looked out on my patio and found the vine alive with fourteen nice ripping tomato's. One of them, just about ready to cut from the vine and enjoy in a sandwhich. The next morning, I went out with sheers in hand gasped. All but two were gone!
I ranted with a strange sense that hovered between anger and pride. I blamed my neighbors who undoubtedly looked into my small yard with envy. Someone had a salad and was too lazy to purchase tomatos for themselves and snuck into my yard late at night. Probably waiting hours after I went to bed, waiting well into morning for my bedroom light to finally snap off so they could take mine. The poor vine looked empty. I hoped silently they weren't good. Grumbled a few choice curses about growing moles and facial hair. But not to give up, I watched it with protective eyes, watching the new fruit flourish on the vine, waiting for the first sign of red to grace the growing green tomato. "I've got five now!" I would tell my husband. I'm not sure he even listened.
Once again, the day came to cut my pride from the tall vine and share it with friend and family. They only got one slice each because the beef steak it was suppose to be, was not. Anyway, I was foiled once again. They were gone.
As I glance around my small garden with tearing eyes, I noticed so were my roses. And the blooms from my jasmine bush. What the hell? Some wicked soul had it in for my garden. I just about gave up on gardening until one morning I was awoken from sleep by an irritating "caw" outside our bedroom window. It was then I realized what was taking my tomatos. Crows! No wonder farmers have scarecrows!
I haven't figured out how to stop them yet, but I did notice this morning, one particular fat black one has an odd looking mole on the side of his beak and if you look closely at it, you'd swear it has hair!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Happy almost Valentine's day~!
I really am lucky. My husband is wonderful. What more could a woman want? Even after almost 13 years of marriage, he still makes my heart pound. I never imagined I could be so lucky.
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