Second New Years Resolution

Drivers who cut in front of me even though there was nobody behind me and they could have waited 1.3 seconds to pull out after I passed and who then drive 10 m.p.h. slower than me shall be dealt with swiftly and with "extreme prejudice."  Patent pending.

First New Years Resolution

I resolve to mow down anyone attempting to enter an elevator before I have successfully exited said elevator.

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My Christmas Story Theme

As I sat and watched my son and daughter-in-law play Santa this Christmas Eve with "A Christmas Story" playing in the background,  I remembered that the first time I saw "A Christmas Story," my son Cory was four years old which is the same age that his daughter is now.  That was 27 years ago.  How the hell did that happen?

House on Skull Mountain

Back in the '70s growing up in Port Arthur, Texas, there was a movie theater that had about five screens and all movies cost $1 to see.  The screens weren't much bigger than today's home television sets with the largest being about one third the size of a normal movie theater screen.

Right now, I'm sitting on my couch in my very own living room watching the fabulously awful 1974 "House on Skull Mountain."  I'm watching it on a television set not much smaller than the smallest screen at the Golden Tri Cinema.  Weird.  These are exactly the kinds of movies we used to see there:  lots of Burt Reynolds, Bruce Lee and B-horror movies.

They also ran some mainstream movies there about a month after they left the real theaters.  There were always technical problems, bad film stock issues (the copies shown at the Golden Tri had already been viewed hundreds and hundreds of times by the time they made it there) and out of sync or non-existent sound.  Of course, with no cable television or VCRs back then, it was the only way to see a movie, if you didn't want to (or couldn't afford to) pay full price.

Hey, look!  It's Lionel Jefferson!

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MTV is 30 years old? When did that happen?

While conversing with friends on Facebook, it came to my attention that MTV is 30 years old this year.  I remember hearing about that, but I don't remember freaking out about it like I am right now.

It occurs to me that teenagers today might be thinking the music of 1981 is as ancient as we thought the music of 1941 was when we were teenagers.

Are they looking at Rod Stewart, Bananarama and Pat Benatar the same way we looked at Bing Crosby, The Andrews Sisters and Judy Garland?

December 21, 2011

We're one year away from Mayan-Hold-Onto-Your-Asses Day.  So, to paraphrase Prince, "Party like it's one more year until Mayan-Hold-Onto-Your-Asses Day."

Heaven Looks Like Lafayette?

Last night, I dreamed about my dad who passed away in 2009.  It wasn't one of those dreams where it feels like a visitation.  It was just a crazy dream.  However, my mouse did stop working when I began to type this post, so who knows?

I was in the kitchen of a house I had never been in before when Tim Romero (an old classmate who wasn't even a very close friend of mine, so I don't know why he was in the dream) came in and said, "Hey, Laurie.  Your dad is in the living room."

I said, "That's weird!  I didn't think I'd be able to talk to him again so soon!"

Dad came into the kitchen and he had a small black mustache.  I asked, "Dad, what are you doing here?"

"I got tired of working all those double shifts," he said. "So, I'm living in Lafayette and have another family."

"Hmmmm," I said.  "Does mom know?"

"Sure, she knows.  She was in on it," dad said.

So, I guess heaven looks a lot like Lafayette?  With another family?  Good luck with that, dad, because I'm sure they won't be nearly as fun as we were.  Tell them your first oldest daughter says, "Hey."

My Little Mouth of Horrors

I went to the dentist this morning because a filling was falling out and was feeling fragile. (Alliteration. Impressed?) The dentist got all up in my grill. (Actually, it was a back tooth, so I suppose you'd say he got all up in my left rear panel.)

The good news is that the awful numbing is finally wearing off. The bad news is that the awful numbing is wearing off. The tooth itself doesn't hurt, but I feel like I have too many teeth in my mouth and my jawbone joints on both sides are painin' me.

Party Like They're Still Here...Because They Are

This Christmas, I want you all to party and celebrate and lose your little minds as though everyone you've ever lost is still here.

Dance and sing like dad is still playing DJ on the old stereo and smile like he's still in your face with that damn video camera.

Picture yourself having a highball with Grandma Ransonette, some chicken and dumplings with Granny and dancing a Cajun waltz with Grandpa Courville.  Have a third piece of pie in honor of Grandpa Ransonette and Uncle Wayne.

Chase the kids around the room like Uncle Marty, treat yourself to a beer with Alan and Ray and try to learn to speak Bulgarian like Melissa.

Party like they're all still here, like they're all still watching you, like they're all still enjoying the festivities, because they are.  I promise you, they are.

Merry Christmas Week, everyone!

It Could Be Worse

Sometimes I look around and think it's amazing there aren't more crimes considering how many criminals there are and that there aren't more car accidents considering how many dumbass, distracted and just plain bad drivers there are, not to mention the sheer volume of automobiles on the road.

When something bad happens we tend to think, "If they had only been fives seconds earlier..." or "If they had only been five seconds later..."  The same principle applies to good things, but we usually don't know how close we were to disaster.

We should be thankful every day for crimes that don't happen, for accidents that don't occur and for good timing that we don't even realize we've experienced.

In Ava's Brain

During bath time when I was babysitting my 4 year old grand-fabulous-daughter Ava the other night, she started squeezing all the water out of her baby brother Lucas's bath toys.  She said, "I need to do this to get all the cow-dew out of them."

"Cow-dew?"  I asked.

"Yeah,"  she said.  "Cow-dew.  Look!  See that black stuff!  Cow-Dew!"

"Oh.  That's mildew."  I said.

"Yeah," Ava said.  "Mildew."

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Tonight when I was babysitting Ava, she was telling me about rehearsing for her Christmas program.  

"The teacher kept asking us to be quiet and we tried to be quiet, but sometimes we kept talking," she told me.

"You know you have to listen when the teacher says to be quiet, right?"  I asked.

"Yes,"  she said.  "One time the teacher came and sat by us on the pubes so we would be quiet."

Since she goes to a Methodist preschool, I'm going to assume she meant pews instead of pubes and leave it at that.

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3 Things About Death and Taxes

I have nothing to say about taxes, but here are three indisputable facts about death that I've been pondering lately:

1.  Every animal, fish and person that was alive 150 years ago is dead.  All of them.  Every single one of them is gone, except for maybe a couple of koi fish, bowhead whales or giant tortoises.  150 years.  That's really not that long ago.  That's 1861.  Every animal, fish and person that was alive at the beginning of the civil war is gone.  Dunno.  Sayonara.

2.  There are two options when it comes to death.  We either die or we live long enough to see everyone else bite the bullet along the way.  Neither of these are pleasant options, but they are what they are.  Period.  That's life, or the lack thereof, in its most basic terms.

3.  I can't remember what number three was, but it was equally profound.

Not Guilty

This morning, I used the very last drop of my Gucci Guilty free sample.  Santa, if you've got an extra $70 could you hook me up?

Valley of My Couch

What a wonderfully awful movie.  Not a bad way to spend a Tuesday night.

The Sweet Spot

EDIT:  Since I wrote this post, my two sisters have passed away.  Bonnie passed March 20, 2014 from oral cancer and my sister Terry passed away seven years to the day after I wrote this post, November 19, 2018, from pneumonia.


When people are in their early adulthood, they're so wrapped up in the big questions of life that they might not appreciate the little things.  They're so caught up in thoughts of school and work and "Will I ever get married?" and "Will I ever get a job?" and "Will I ever have kids?" that they might not look around and appreciate the right here, right now.

When you get to be an olden person like me, you look back and realize that those years were filled with most (if not all) of your grandparents, all of your siblings, all of your parents, all of your friends' parents, all of your cousins, most of your aunts and uncles and great-aunts and great-uncles and even some of your great-grandparents.  That's the sweet spot.  Part of you knows it won't always be that way, but another part of you takes it all for granted, because you think you have all the time in the world.

Everybody, not just the early adult-ers, needs to look at right here, right now and realize that you are in your own special sweet spot.  Right here, right now you have who you have.  Love them and cherish them, because it can change in a heartbeat.

Thank God, thank Buddha, thank whoever you believe in, thank your lucky stars for everyone you love and for everyone who loves you and God bless us everyone.

Happy Thanksgiving.

I passed by a fried chicken restaurant yesterday and there was a smiling cartoon chicken outside the restaurant holding up a sign with the specials for the day written on it. That  seemed to me to be highly inappropriate. A chicken shouldn't be pimping out the delicious fried meat of his fellow species.

Bastards!

Yesterday, a very good friend of mine (possibly named later, if it's okay with her) went to the church where she works at 4:00 p.m. in a populated area of Beaumont's west end to pop in and out and get something she needed.before running errands for her job.  

While she was inside, someone broke the back window on her car and stole her purse.  She forgot she had the church credit card and, by the time she canceled it, the bastards had charged things in Winnie, Baytown and Houston.  She saw TWO Suburbans leaving the church parking lot when she came out and they went toward the highway.

I'm thankful that the criminals chose my friend randomly and hadn't been watching her waiting for the perfect opportunity to rob her, but I'm also angry that these Houston SOBs are targeting our Beaumont mothers.  The police told my friend that these guys target mothers at day care centers (there is a school and day care at the church), because they know the moms are busy, frazzled, have their hands full and leave their purses in the car.

Saturday night, I prayed that these particular friends would make it home from the big Halloween celebration downtown unscathed.  In my weird brain, I'm picturing The Universe saying, "Okay, safe they shall be Saturday, but Monday we still need that purse."

Thank you God for keeping them safe.  Everybody else, be careful out there and lock your purse in the trunk before you leave work to pick up your kids.

Bastards, who stole the purse...

Karma.

That's all.

Just...karma.

PS: People send out goofy ass e-mails about needles in gas pump hoses and poison on the back of business cards, but nobody forwards e-mails about the real stuff.   Please tell your friends about this.  
 
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Self Examination

There's nothing like a beautiful sunshine-y morning to make you open up the blinds, let the sun pour in and ask yourself, "Holy shit.  When's the last time I dusted this rat hole?"

My Morning

• 7:30 a.m. Power went out as I sat down to my makeup mirror
• 7:30 a.m. Large stuffed animal fell out of a chair in my office beside my bathroom at the exact same time the lights went out 
• 7:32 a.m. Packed up things to finish getting ready at work
• 7:33 a.m. Continued to flip light switches even though I knew the power was out
• 7:36 a.m. Left for work with wet hair and no makeup
• 7:37 a.m. Tried to close garage door with garage door opener like an idiot
• 7:37 a.m. Got out of car to close garage door manually and smelled smoke
• 7:37 a.m. Freaked out
• 7:38 a.m.  No smoke pouring out of my townhouse or any others around me
• 7:38 a.m.  Stopped freaking out
• 7:39 a.m.  Drove to work
• 7:40 a.m. Tuned radio to local station to try to find out why there was a power outage and smoke in the air and heard disc jockeys talking about "alternate paths" and "we'll be out there later"
• 7:41 a.m. Freaked out 
• 7:42 a.m. I realized the disc jockeys were talking about the path for a procession for a local soldier who died in Afghanistan  (RIP)
• 7:46 a.m  Tried to pull into the parking lot at work, but there was a man walking two huge black Great Danes and a lady was blocking my path into the parking lot, I assume, out of fear of the dogs.  She wouldn't move left or right, forward or backward.  She just stood there.  MOVE dammit!
• 7:50 a.m.  Walked into my office to find two co-workers already there who never get to work before me.  Never.

Weird ass morning.

Don't Go Back in the House!

I got a call from my four year old grand-fabulous-daughter yesterday. A fireman and firetruck went to her preschool Wednesday. She told me the following all in one big, rushed, important, excited breath, "Grandma! I got to go on a BIG firetruck! The fireman told us that if there's an emergency, we have to call 911. Do you know that grandma? Call 911! He said that if there's a fire to go outside EVEN IF IT'S DARK! Go outside. Don't go back in for your baby dolls. Don't go back in for your puppy. Don't go back in for your kitty. He said, 'Your mommy and daddy will buy you a new baby doll or a new puppy or a new kitty.' It won't be the same baby doll, but that's okay. Don't go back in the house! Okay, grandma?"

Red Hot Chili Peppers = A Bunch of Old Guys

The smartass punk kid on VH-1 Countdown (just kidding about the smartass thing...I like him) just announced that this video is number one this week and "even though they're a little bit older, they still make great videos."

So, I thought, "When did the Red Hot Chili Peppers become a bunch of old guys in the eyes of the VH1 world?" The VH1 audience isn't exactly the young MTV crowd. So, I looked it up. Flea and Anthony Kiedis are both 50. How is that possible? I think I need a nap and some Geritol.

On another note, "Pop Up Video" is coming back. I love "Pop Up Video."

15 Minutes of Fame

My daughter-in-law went to a "Fame Party" and had the pictures below taken of their beautiful family. They are incredible. I'm not sure if this is available everywhere, but this is such a great idea. It's sort of like a Tupperware party, but with a photographer. Each family gets 15 minutes with the photographer and you purchase the whole CD of photos to do whatever you like with them. You can also purchase prints. Here's the link: Fame Parties.

My Grand-Fabulous-Son Talking About His Day

This is my one year old grand-fabulous-son Lucas (4 year old Ava's fabulous little brother) talking about his day.  What do you think he's saying?  I would love to know.

If I was a cop...

...I would spend all day searching for assholes who run stop signs.  Then, I would stop the asshole, turn off my cop-car-camera and slap the piss out of him.  Then, I would turn my cop-car-camera back on and give the asshole the largest possible ticket allowed by law.  Then, I would go to court on the day that the asshole tries to tell the judge (a) that he didn't run a stop sign and (b) that I slapped the piss out of him.  Then, I would tell the judge, "Throw the book at the fucker!"

Then, I'd probably have to get another job, but it would be so worth it.


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"It Might be Diarrhea"

Saturday, I had lunch with my family including my 4 year-old grand-fabulous-daughter Ava.  As usual, while we were waiting for our food, she announced, "Grandma!  I have to go to the bathroom."  Her dad was the same way as a child.  Every trip to a restaurant required an inspection of the facilities.

So, off we went.  When we got to the bathroom, she went into the stall, locked the door and announced that she was a big girl now and I did not need to go in there with her and that I did not have to help her wipe.

I made a quick scan of the restroom and decided that, if necessary, I could squiggle under the door in the event of a potty emergency.  Although, I didn't have to squiggle under the door for Ava, in an unusual bit of foreshadowing, later in the weekend I did squiggle under a door into a restroom stall to assist a friend in need.  That's a different blog post.

There was a young girl in the restroom with us and as she was complimenting me on Ava's cuteness, Ava announced from the stall, "Grandma, I think I have to poo poo."

"Okay," I said.

"It won't come out," she announced.

"That's okay," I said.  "Take your time."

"I'll sing.  That always helps me poo poo better."

The young girl stifled a giggle and as she left, a mother/daughter duo came into the bathroom in the middle of Ava's Poo Poo Serenade.  It was a lovely lyrically creative and melodically diverse tune.  And, it was loud.

The mother smiled at me and I smiled back.

"Grandma," Ava said, "I'm going to take off my skirt and my panties.  If I don't take them off, I might get poop on them and then people will be walking by me and they'll smell something bad and they'll say what's that smell and it will be poop on my skirt and on my panties.  I'm going to take them off."

"That's a good idea," I said.

As the mother/daughter team left the restroom stifling their own giggles, another lady walked in.  At this point, Ava announced, "Grandma.  I think it's di-uh-reeee-uh.  Yep.  It's di-uh-reee-uh."

That was when I quit trying to stifle my own giggles and busted out laughing.  Ava decided that this new turn of events might require some extra grandma help with the wiping and opened the stall door for me.

I'm pleased to announce that there was no di-uh-reeee-uh and the skirt and panties remained poop free.

To paraphrase 10cc, "The things we do for love...like walking in the rain and the snow...and helping your grand-fabulous-daughter go."

Mission accomplished.

No means no

A word of advice to all wait staff and, in particular, to the nice waitress who waited on us at Chili's today: Obviously, your manager told you to push the margaritas.  Perhaps, he actually did tell you that he would buy you a steak dinner if you sold enough margaritas. 

Even though we politely refused several times, you kept offering them anyway. Please keep in mind that you might be standing at the table of a person or persons in recovery or who possibly cannot drink alcohol.

That wasn't the case at our table, but you need to keep this in mind. When people say, "No, thank you," drop it. 

No means no.

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Tip to Stay Young

I like this tip a lot.  I think being in contact with lots of my former classmates and other fabulous people I haven't communicated with in 20 or 30 years through Facebook has turned back my mental clock...in a good way.  One great thing about being 56 is that I can be nostalgic about the '60s, '70s, '80s and  '90s.  I'll never run out of material to use to make myself feel young(er) again. 

From CNN.com - 

"Step back in time"

"Did you love punk rock music in college? Load some Sex Pistols tracks on your iPod. You might think that being so nostalgic would make you feel ancient, but research shows it can have the opposite effect.

In one study at Harvard University, people who were placed in an environment that resembled their youth -- with movies, music, and memorabilia from the past -- experienced marked improvements in their memory, vision, happiness level, and overall health.

'It shows that our mind-set is what limits us,' says lead researcher Ellen Langer, Ph.D., author of 'Counterclockwise.'

So do something that really takes you back (like re-reading your Anne Rice paperbacks!)."

Is that normal?

Yesterday when I was walking the neighborhood, I saw a white cat sitting in a yard being dive-bombed by dragonflies.  It was strange, because there were no dragonflies anywhere else.  Yet, there were about fifty of them torturing that poor cat.

Today, I saw possibly the same white cat leaning into a storm drain across the street from the dragonfly yard.  As I got closer, the cat leaned further and further into the drain and then jumped down into god knows where.  I went to the house of the dragonfly yard and rang the bell to see if the cat belonged to them, but nobody answered.

Do cats do this?  Will it be able to get out?  If it jumps up to get out, I don't see how it would be able to get out without hitting its head and falling back into the storm drain.

WTF?


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Beach Day! Crystal Beach, Texas (Bolivar Peninsula)

The Grand-Fabulous Ava's 4th Birthday Party

Cicada shedding it's shell

My daughter-in-law took this picture this morning of a cicada shedding it's shell. Look at the part that was covering its eyes.  Freaky!  Now, I can't get "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" out of my head.

"We need to check the pipes!"

Friday night my 4 year-old grand-fabulous-daughter Ava and I had a sleepover.  As we drove into my neighborhood, I noticed water pouring down the sidewalk of an unoccupied townhouse. 

I said, “Wow!  A pipe must have burst. “ 

Ava asked, “A pipe?” 

“Yeah,” I said, “We need to call somebody.”

In the thirty seconds between seeing the house with the busted pipe and driving into my garage, Ava fretted about the leak.  She asked who we were going to call and what was going to happen.  I told her we would call the City of Beaumont and someone would come out to fix the pipe.  When we got in my house, I called the city and was told that they had many calls about busted pipes because of the drought we've been experiencing, so it might be a while before someone checked on the pipe.

Ava immediately went into action.  “We need to call my mom and dad!  We need to tell them we called Beaumont Texas The City!  We need to go check on the house again.  We need to check the pipes!”

We put our things away and walked down the street to the scene of the great busted pipe incident.  We sat on the sidewalk and waited for a “Beaumont Texas The City” repairman to arrive.  When he got there, he began explaining to me what would happen next.  I said, “Oh, it’s not my house.  We’re just nosy.”  He said a crew would be out as soon as possible, but probably not until the next morning.  Disappointed, we went back home.

At 6:20 a.m. the next morning, Ava jumped out of bed and announced, “Grandma!  I’m ready to put on my day clothes.  We have to go check the pipes.”

We checked on the pipe several times that morning and, at one point, brought chairs and water and Ava’s baby doll Mary and hung out down there for a while.  When we decided the pipe wasn’t going to be fixed before lunch, we left the situation to the fine people of “Beaumont Texas The City” and went to lunch at my mom’s house.

When we got to my mom’s, Ava explained the dire pipe situation to my mom and my sister including the fact that the man from “Beaumont Texas The City” said we were “rosie.”  We all looked at each other.  Rosie? Ah.  Not "rosie."  Nosy.  I had told the repairman that we were being nosy.  I’m guessing that at some point in Ava’s long life, someone has called her “Nosy Rosie.”  The logic of a 4 year old.


The next day, our family got together for a pre-Fourth of July celebration.  Ava and I went in the back yard and found that my mom had tiny bugs all over her patio.  Not thinking, I said, “Rue needs to call somebody.”

Once again, Ava sprang into action.  She ran into the house, grabbed “Rue” (that’s what she calls my mom whose name is Ruby), grabbed anybody else who would follow her and picked up a cordless phone from my mom’s nightstand.  She led everyone outside to the patio while punching numbers on the phone. 

She told everybody, “Don’t be afraid!  It’s not ants!  It’s just doodlebugs!  Everybody relax!  I’m calling Beaumont Texas The City!  It’s okay!”

I looked at Jamie, Ava’s mom, and said, “She’s very pro-active, isn’t she?”

Jamie just nodded her head and smiled.

Suddenly, Ava shouted, “She’s talking to me!  Beaumont Texas The City is talk….”

Then, she stopped and listened. 

She turned to us and said, “She says she’s sorry.”

We all looked at each other and looked back at Ava.  Ava handed the phone to me and then went back into the house to tend to other important business.

When I took the phone, I could hear the recording, “I’m sorry.  The number you have reached is not in service.  Please hang up and dial again.”

Ava was satisfied with the obvious deep concern that the anonymous woman at "Beaumont Texas The City" had with Rue’s doodlebug infestation.  All she needed was to hear a friendly voice say they were sorry.  Life is simple when you're four.

Thanks a lot, Charlie Sheen

Last night, I dreamed Charlie Sheen was trying to get me to help him steal drugs and hide money.  For some reason, the money was in the form of a $10,000 check.  I successfully hid the check in a super secret place...my wallet..., but I forgot where I hid the drugs. Luckily, the drug guys and the police who were chasing us didn’t care about me, they were only after Charlie.  


When I got bored with Charlie’s bullshit, my dream changed to me hanging out with the boy next door who I grew up with.  We got married, but I kept forgetting to tell people I was married.  Probably not a good way to start a marriage. 


With all the running around with Charlie Sheen and the stress from my secret marriage, I woke up feeling like I had been...well...running from the cops with Charlie Sheen and hiding a secret marriage all night.  


Thanks a lot for ruining my sleepy time, Charlie Sheen, and sorry about the whole secret marriage thing, Steve.

I am a Cyber Bitch

Last week I was involved in an event which required coordinating people from Austin, Lake Charles, Hawaii and points local to meet at a specific location at a specific time. 

This morning, through a brief e-mail exchange, two of my chick friends and I were able to take the first steps in fulfilling our destiny to stalk...I mean...to meet...Adam Levine in September at The Woodlands.

Do you have any idea how complicated it would have been to accomplish these tasks without e-mail?  Without Facebook?  I'm sure that you do. 

I have a friend who is not on Facebook, who does not "do texting" and who constantly informs me, "I never read my e-mail."  It gets on my last nerve any time I have to contact that woman for anything.  Did you hear/read what I just said/wrote?  It annoys me to have to pick up a teeny tiny cell phone, punch a few numbers and say actual words in my actual voice to a dear friend.

I'm such a cyber bitch.


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Carnival Conquest Cruise - May 2011

Click here for photos of my Carnival Conquest cruise May 1 - 8, 2011 with my mom, Aunt Gladys, Aunt Bernice, Aunt Hazel and Aunt Dolores. We left from Galveston, Texas and sailed to Montego Bay, Jamaica, Grand Cayman and Cozumel, Mexico. Below is a slideshow. Stories later.

Google Chrome

I highly recommend that you install and use Google Chrome as your internet browser.

My laptop was locking up at least twice a night when I was on the internet and I thought I was on the way to needing a new computer.  Since I started using Google Chrome as my browser, no more problems.

Plus, you can download and play Angry Birds on your PC.

Win, win.


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Bitch Moment of the Day: "Who cares?"

My Bitch Moment of the Day is directed toward the geniuses who go into online message boards, news article comment strings and Facebook conversation posts that pertain to such things as American Idol, Charlie Sheen and Royal Weddings to post the brilliant and insightful observation of:  "Who cares?" 

Guess what, asshole.  We don't care that you don't care. You think we don't have a life?  I would say you are the one whose life we should be questioning if you have nothing better to do than cruise the internet for posts and articles about things you allegedly don't care about and then globbing up the comment string with your two words of brilliance.

You want to share your disgust about Charlie Sheen or your boredom with the royal family? Knock yourself out.  Posting the idiotic and arrogant "who cares" is just plain lazy, not to mention unoriginal. 

And, it pisses me off. 

Not that you care.


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Et il commence…

Aunt Dolores, mom (Ruby), Aunt Bernice, Aunt Gladys, Aunt Hazel

I will soon leave on a cruise with my mom and her four sisters who range in age from 65 to 80 years old. I have been instructed by Aunt Dolores, “the oldest,” that I am not to introduce the group by saying, “They’re all sisters. SHE’S the oldest.” I told her that I’ll tell everyone they’re quintuplets.  All born simultaneously. Like chihuahuas out of a clown car.  A true miracle of nature.

In the last few weeks, two of the sisters have had dental emergencies involving broken teeth. My sister Bonnie asked the other three sisters if they had experienced any broken teeth recently. Aunt Hazel gave Bonnie a puzzled look and said, “If I break a tooth, I just drop ‘em off in the morning and tell them I’ll pick ‘em up after work.” Note to self: don’t worry about Aunt Hazel’s teeth.

Yesterday, mom was describing our cabins to three of her sisters. I wasn’t really listening to the conversation until I heard my mom say, “There’s a couch in the room, so if anybody picks up a man, the other sister will have to sleep on the couch.”

Wait. What?

Aunt Gladys said, “Man? Hell, I’m on vacation. What do I want a man for?” She’s one of the married ones.

Aunt Dolores, “the oldest” of the quintuplets, said, “Bring them back to the room? That’s crazy. If anybody finds a man, go to his room. You people aren’t thinking straight. Don’t bring him back to your room where there are four other women.”

Holy. Crap.

I thought I was going to be concerned with broken teeth, broken hips and blood sugar levels. Now, I find I’m going to have to worry about curfews, bed checks and booty calls.

I think I’m going to need a bigger journal.

Pour être continue…

This and That

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I would like people to be implanted with chips like the ones implanted in dogs and cats which identifies their owners.  I went to a funeral earlier this week and my friends and I were trying to figure out who some of the people were.  I thought how much simpler it would be if people had implants with their family tree on it that we could scan from a distance with our smart phones and know who everybody is.  What about privacy you ask?  Is anything really private anymore?  I'd rather people have my accurate information than make stuff up.

***

I would also like to have all of my medical information on another implanted chip so that when I go to a new doctor I won't have to fill out all those stupid medical history forms ever again.

***

When I was an AT&T customer, I was constantly bombarded with requests that I go "paperless."  I like paperless.  I always go paperless when I'm given the option.  So, of course, I went paperless.  Now that I've cut the cord with AT&T and no longer have a land line telephone, I get at least three non-paperless mailings a week from AT&T begging me to come back.  WTF, AT&T?  I'm now begging you to go paperless and leave me the hell alone.

***

I was born and raised Catholic, but I do and don't do lots of things that might not get me into Catholic heaven right away:  I'm divorced, I used to use birth control, I don't go to church every week and there are all of those sex things that I won't mention because my mom and my son read my blog.  If my fellow Catholics can't eventually pray me out of purgatory and get me into Catholic heaven, I'm hoping I can get into Methodist heaven.  I know people there, too.

***



This and That

***

I'm going to tell you people one more time.  After you park your car in the parking lot where I park every day, do not...I repeat...do NOT...walk out of said parking lot right smack in the middle of the driveway that I'm trying to pull into so that I can park in that parking lot. 

I won't run over you today.  I might not even run over you tomorrow.  However, mark my words, one of these days I'm going to be up to my ears with dumbasses and I will run over you.  Intentionally.  With malice and aforethought.

You've been warned.

***

I love the sound of a sizzle.  Water accidentally hitting a curling iron.  A coffee pot being put back on the electric burner at the office.  Checking the oil in a frying pan or an iron with a sprinkle of water to see if they're hot enough.  Bacon.

I can't explain it.

Szzzzzzzssssssssssszzzzzzzzzzzzz-zzle.

Love it.

***

When Ava gets in the top of her wooden swingset, she goes to the side, leans out ever so slightly and yells, "Top of the woild!"

Every.  Single.  Time.

I love that, too.

***

Ava and Lucas 4-10-11

March (and a little bit of April) Madness

I won the office March Madness Bracket contest!  No money.  Just cookies.  That's my bracket up there.  I base all my picks on instinct and blind luck.  I rock.


.

I'm Conflicted

I'm convinced that everyone would look better with natural hair.  No more weaves.  No more perms.  No more color.  All a person needs is a good haircut, shampoo and conditioner.  I think people would be amazed at how great their natural hair really is.  Most women haven't seen their actual real hair since they were about twelve years old.

I'm convinced that the world would be better without chatty disc jockeys.  I've posted about this before.  The only information I need between the music is the name of the song and who sang it.  Even that I can find on my own now with the flip of a Google.  Don't even get me started on the "morning zoo" faction of the radio world.

I'm convinced that we don't need news anchors.  That goes for local, national and entertainment news, especially entertainment news.  I read recently that a station in Houston has gone back to the old newsreel style of reporting the news.  Sounds fabulous.

* * *

My conflict arises from the fact that some of my very good friends hold these very same jobs that would be eliminated in my hateful scenario.  Most of the people who hold these jobs are not making a killing in their chosen profession and they've spent most of their lives dreaming of being a hairdresser or disc jockey or anchorman and training to reach that goal.

I'm a horrible person.

And, I'm conflicted.



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The 3 Stages...so far...of Caffeine Withdrawal

As you may or may not know, I gave up caffeine for Lent.  Here's a summary of my experience so far.

Week 1

I was tired, groggy and sleepy all the time.


Week 2

That shaking hand thing that I had?  The one that made me think I was getting Parkinson's?  It's gone and I no longer have a signature like a 90 year old woman.  Also, in a weird sort of way, I have more energy.  It's not a WHOA kind of caffeine induced energy.  It's more of a sustained all day long energy.  That's boring, but kind of nice, too.  I do miss that WHOA though.

I'm also sleeping all night long with no crazy frantic dreams.  I thought I was waking up in the middle of the night because I had to go to the bathroom, but it turns out I was just going to the bathroom because I was awake.  I guess. 


Week 3

Last week, in a three day spree:

(1) I ran a red light.  I didn't even notice it was red until I was driving under it.

(2) I read my bedside clock wrong and got up at 6:00 a.m. instead of 7:00 a.m.  I made my bed and brushed my teeth before I even realized what I had done.  Since I had already made my bed, I couldn't even go back to bed.

(3) I locked my keys in the car.  Bonnie and mom and I were eating fried fish at the KC Hall when I noticed.  I had to call Terry's husband to go to mom's and bring me my extra key.


To sum up: bad week, good week, bad week.  I have three more weeks to go.  I can't wait to find out what's next.  Or can I?


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In Case Your DVR Cut Off the Last Few Minutes of American Idol

St. Jude Thaddeus Bereavement Ministry

My mom sent me this bulletin from church:

Bereavement Ministry

Have you lost a loved one?

Losing a loved one eventually touches all of us.  If you have suffered the loss of a friend, parent, spouse, or child, the grieving process can be difficult at best.  Through this new ministry at St. Jude Thaddeus, we hope to help those who are struggling through the deep sorrow we all experience with the death of someone close to us.

Whether it's been some time since your loved one died or your loss is recent, please join us.

Thursdays, March 17, 2011 - April 28, 2011

6:00 p.m. - 7:30 p.m. in Room M6

St. Jude Family Life Center

(no meeting on April 21, 2011 - Holy Thursday)

No age limit.  Open to any faith.

Meetings will be led by a licensed Professional Counselor

I am the resurrection and the life.

The one who believes in me will live,

even though they die.

                                          John 11:25

St. Jude Thaddeus Church

6825 Gladys Avenue

Beaumont, TX  77706

409-866-5088



American Idol - Season 10, Top 13

In order of my favorite performances:

Casey - Unbelievable! Great stage presence and not a note off key.

James - Perfect! Not screechy and sounded beautiful.

Thia - Like the judges, I didn't care for the middle part at all, but I think she has a beautiful voice. I see her doing a lot of animated Disney princess voice overs.

Naima - I think this would have been incredible if she hadn't been so nervous. I really like her.

Jacob - He seemed so nervous in the beginning, I thought he was going to have a meltdown. The rest of the song was beautiful though. His pants were too tight.

Stefano - Sounded great, but I found his performance to be manic. Made me nervous.

Pia - Excellent vocal, but she bores me. I find her big notes to be a little flat, but who am I to say?

Lauren - Great voice, but I thought her performance was a mess. I like her though.

Scotty - Very good vocal, but also boring for me. He has a future in the recording business no matter what happens on Idol.

Haley - I like this girl, but did not like her performance at all.

Ashthon - Doesn't do a thing for me. She looked really beautiful though.

Paul - Love him, but what the hell? I thought he was awful and I HATE to say that.

Karen - Bad, bad, bad. Unless she gets a huge block of hispanic votes, she's going home.

Laurie Fixes the Mortgage Mess. You're Welcome.

On my way to work, I listen to Market Place Morning Report on NPR. It’s not as boring as it sounds. At least once a week, Steve Chiotakis has a story about the mortgage mess. If he would call me, I would tell him what happened and how to fix it.


What happened?

The housing mess was not created by people who bought homes they could afford and ended up in foreclosure due to health problems or job losses. It was caused by people who bought houses they couldn’t afford and by the banks that encouraged such idiotic behavior.

What else happened?

Lots of the same idiots who were buying houses they couldn’t afford purchased them with adjustable rate mortgages. How could anybody (other than the banks) possibly think this was a good idea? Who would buy something with the caveat, “Oh, by the way, that mortgage payment you already can’t afford? It might go up by several hundred dollars at some point.”

Whose fault was it?

The housing mess was caused by the people who bought houses they couldn’t afford. Period. Yes, the banks were making and selling bad loans left and right, but those loans were signed for by the above-mentioned idiots.  Yes, realtors showed prospective clients properties they knew the clients couldn’t afford. However, just because they make a pair of pants in your size doesn’t mean you should wear them. The same goes for buying a house. Just because the realtor and bank says the house fits your ass, doesn’t mean you should buy it.

Okay, genius, how do we fix it?

1. Builders must start building moderately priced new housing that normal working people can afford. Every house does not need granite countertops and marble floors.

2. There is a desperate need for decent rental properties in nice areas at reasonable rates. A lot of people jump into a mortgage they can’t afford, because they are appalled that they must pay a bigger monthly rental payment for a two bedroom, one bath apartment than for a monthly house note. How can a person save money for a down payment if they’re spending all of their money on rent?

3. Realtors must stop showing people properties they know the people can’t afford.

4. Banks must stop giving loans to people who they know can’t afford them.

5. Banks should require those humongous down payments people hate. If you can’t save enough money for a decent down payment, you aren’t ready to own a house.

6. People must stop being idiots. Renting until you can afford to buy a house within your budget might be a huge pain in the ass, but I’m guessing being kicked out of your home is a much bigger pain in the ass.