PoutyBout

Namaste

2012-01-02T09:05:00.000-08:00

This photo was taken a couple of months ago at the north rim of the Grand Canyon in Arizona, USA. I wrote the sentiment in high school when I was around 16 years old. "Make your dreams reality; not your reality dreams." I put the photo and the quote together when finally, after many years of trying, I was able to spot two condors on a ledge. If you look closely, you can see them too. I had watched for condors for many years, and had never spotted one until this day. I did not give up. It reminds me of the hawk that was flying around my neighborhood and I tried and tried to get a shot of him with my camera. Finally, one day I got him and wrote about it on this blog.

It is important to dream. It is important to look into one's heart. "Somehow, between your dreams and your heart, you will surely find your own awakening." - Susan English, 2012

This is my last blog post as "Pouty."

I am now focusing on creating original,

inspirational, and entertaining artwork and sharing my stories with everyone.

Feel free to visit me,

Susan English, at my blog, "Honest Life."

Nada Clue

2011-11-11T20:36:00.000-08:00

"They don't seem to know what they're protesting!"

Apparently certain journalists can't read, or choose

not to listen.

Suldog taught him to dance

2011-10-16T17:03:00.001-07:00

Searching EBay for Obama Christ SuperStar

2010-03-14T17:08:00.000-07:00

Kya and Ryden (2 weeks old today)

I've been sooooo busy with searching on Ebay for newborn baby clothes to send to NYC. I got side tracked while searching yesterday and found myself searching for an Obama Christ Superstar multi-colored neon sign all day. But every search brought up Cheez-its with his face on it, peanuts with his eyeballs, and corn husks with his ears - I really need to find one so that I can hang it next to my poster of the Pope and below my 8" x 10" black and white photograph of Jim Morrison in his tighty-whities.

So, what makes you smile? Inquiring minds want to know, or at least I want to know.

Fucket list - nada typo

2010-02-28T16:23:00.000-08:00

My Fuck-it list of 20 things I do not intend to do before I die.

Buy new underwears. Fuck it.

Stop throwing away plastic water bottles. Fuck it.

Get in shape using a Bo-Flex. Fuck it.

Go see the re-united Who in concert. Fuck it.

Have sex all night long. Fuck it.

Learn how to ball room dance. Fuck it.

Learn to cook. Fuck it.

Visit China. (cough, gag). Fuck it.

Buy a hybrid. Fuck it.

Stop chewing Juicy Fruit sugary gum. Fuck it.

Go to bed early. Fuck it.

Color my hair. Fuck it.

Volunteer in my community. Fuck it.

Finals. Fuck it.

Fuck it. Let’s party.

Fuck it. I lost count.

Fuck it. I’m out of here.

Giant Hand Carved Wood Pecker

2010-02-12T17:03:00.000-08:00

Let's play
"caption this"

"Oh, that's just Mr. P lying down sun tanning in our backyard."

It's rain people

2010-01-23T14:43:00.000-08:00

Why does rain make Arizonans do stupid things?

To that guy who ignored the flood warning and tried to drive through the rain wash anyways. It's impressive that you have a sports car and all, but seriously, you look stupid sitting on the hood waiting for the tow truck to come. There was an ole lady in a Buick who was smart enough to turn around and go the other way rather than try to cross, and she could barely see where she was going. Serves you right dumb-ass!

To that other guy on Scottsdale Road that was riding a bike. The rain comes up almost over your tires and the wind is blowing you sideways. One more inch and your bike will float way. What is so important? Are you going to the Starbuck’s to have a cup of hot chocolate? Moron.

To that tourist wearing daisy duke shorts. It is 20 degrees outside and the wind is blowing rain up your ass. Yes, you are visiting a desert, but you look really stupid right about now. Wear a one-size-fits-all rain tarp and Ugg boots like the rest of us. Pathetic.

To that chick with the bouffant up-do paying to park. Like the meter maid is going to get out of her golf cart with the rain pouring down to see whose meter is expired and leave a ticket on the windshield. Duh.

To that housewife walking to her mail box wearing her robe and flip-flops. OK, so you are friend to mother earth and your robe is made out of purely organic cotton, but those flip-flops are not made for wading through puddles. Shoes. Now.

To that barefoot couple kissing in the rain. Priceless.

by Kawaii Yasha

Bling Meets Feather Boa

2010-01-18T12:46:00.001-08:00

Guy Fieri v. Azis

I think the two were separated at birth.

What? How is it that none of you people have ever heard of Azis??

Wikipedia says, “Azis is a Bulgarian Romani pop singer known for his atypical gender expression and his flamboyant persona.” I think of the guy who likes to dance in a diaper and fling glitter off his feather boa.

He’s HUGE in Europe.

Azis' dirty dancing is almost as sensual as when the bling-studded Guy stuffs his face with a dripping super-sized burrito.

Azis is like looking in a crystal ball and seeing what Adam Lambert will look like in 10 years.

Adam Lambert - American Idol Runner-Up

In fact, I think Adam Lambert is what we would get if Guy Fieri and Azis had a love child.

I would throw in the diaper dance just for kicks and giggles but it would be copyright infringement.

VA-VA-VA- VOOM

2010-01-16T00:13:00.000-08:00

My eyes are on the hot Massachusetts Senate Race.
"Scott Brown Offers His Own Stimulus Package."
Now that's a policy I can trust.

Speaking of Pissing in the Wind

2010-01-10T09:15:00.000-08:00

Pissing into the Wind by Gavski on deviantART

John Kerry was in the news in December when it was rumored he wanted to go as a ‘freelancer’ to Iran to have a discussion with Iran’s Ach-I-threw-up-my-dinner-bob. He, who couldn’t even beat George Bush, who is pretty much known as the stupid President, in a debate. Problem was that ‘Ach’ figured out that we are weak and that there is no point in talking to any emissary from the U.S. and refused to issue him a visa. Or, perhaps ‘Ach’ would rather kiss the barrel of a gun than to sit down and talk to John Kerry for 5 minutes. I am certain that had Kerry gone, they would be shaking in their togas. I know, but they look like togas to me. Run, Ach-Bob, run! Run for the hills while you still can. Run so quickly that your toga gets caught in your butt crack, you trip, and then you die.

Speaking of butt cracks, I heard about a not-too-bright man who visited Mt. Lemmon in Tucson, Arizona. Public Works had to construct a steel fence to keep people from falling off the side of the mountain. It was storming like crazy but this guy had to take a leak, so he took his wiener out of his boxers and stuck it through one of the fence holes. The urban legend says that lightening struck the fence, electricity traveled through his urine stream, and ignited his schnitzel. Yowza! I bet that left a mark.

Speaking of weenie roasts, did you hear that the lawyer for the panty bomber is asking that he not be tried until after all of his skin grafting is complete at the best burn center in Michigan? Our tax dollars at work! Apparently he blew up his own package when he tried to blow up zee plane. I say patch him up and wheel him into the court room or send him back to Nigeria in pieces. Either one is fine by me.

Speaking of pieces, I really honestly do not see what all the Tiger Woods broo-ha-ha is about. Married senators , for example Max Baukus, can use tax dollars to give their mistresses raises and take them on junkets and that is perfectly hunky-dory. When a married Black athlete pays for sex with his own coin, it is beyond the pail. I hope Tiger learned his lesson and runs for governor of Florida. Then his extramarital sex will be sanctioned by the public and paid for with someone else’s money. Look what I’ve done…I’ve come up with a New Year’s resolution for Tiger Woods.

Speaking of New Year’s resolutions, I’ve decided this year that whatever I decide to change about myself shall remain unspoken. I have finally learned after all these years that family, coworkers, and one bedfellow are all waiting for me to fail so they can say: “I thought you gave up (insert vice here) for your New Year’s resolution? I will, however, graciously offer you a hint, “Oink-oink.”

I’m recouping from a bump on my noggin, so I apologize in advance if this post sounds slightly out of date and disjointed. I started it last week, bumped my head, and now I’m recouping from a bump on my noggin.

Family Photo

2010-01-01T04:27:00.000-08:00

I have no bone to pick with this photo, or of any of the steak holders.

I am hoping this coming year will meat all of your expectations!

Happy Blog-iversary To Me

2009-12-30T00:01:00.000-08:00

It's hard to believe that today my blog is one year old! I have lots of things in the hopper these days with graduate school, working full time, and family responsibilities.

I wish to thank all of you for visiting and sharing your thoughts and comments this past year.

And now, my first post, redux. It was a book review; my one and only, with no comment.

"Irreverent, provocative, hip - and always funny - this guide to power and attitude offers women an intelligent alternative to the negative messages we hear every day from magazines, television and relatives...Susan Jane Gilman serves up uncommon wisdom and practical advice on everything from sex to politics...Hey, somebody's gotta rule the world. It might as well be us. "

It's a couple of short days until the end of another year. I tend to be introspective and think about people, books, places, authors, that have had a positive influence on me, with the idea of trying to reinforce what works for me. I find myself wondering why I still feel depressed, even with treatment. Am I not working the program? Or is it because I have changed but the world has not?

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I have spent my entire life worrying about body image to the point where food has become the "F" word and I avoid scales like others avoid the pandemic. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that I've had more than my share of very excruciatingly painful plastic surgery.

At any rate, I blame the manufactured plastic-coated image of what a female "should" be as fabricated by the American media for stealing my self esteem.

It was after reading "Kiss My Tiara"that I decided to use my underlying anger for a good cause, which is making sure my voice is heard, by bombarding my political leaders with my views on everything from the weather to Fed-Zilla (especially when I'm feeling under the weather with PMS). This book provides a road map for young ladies that offers them ammunition for thwarting off random attacks of misogyny and debitchery meant to strip them of their self esteem. It is a must read; funny yet sadly filled with altruism. If only I had read it when I was 16 maybe it would have saved me years of suffering.

This blog is dedicated to the teens and tweeners of our generation. Let's help them be strong, understanding, vibrant, enthusiastic productive equal members of this global world - without prejudice.

Sir, Let me see your underwear

2009-12-27T14:31:00.001-08:00

I'll need to search you for explosives.

Charlie's lost his Sheen

2009-12-27T08:00:00.000-08:00

Christmas Mug Shot

Jingle Bells,
I'm in a cell,
Wearing jail boxers,
Call the judge,
to open court up,
The big boys think I'm cute, hey!

Soap Box Series No. 1

2009-12-26T17:13:00.000-08:00

(Photo: Arizona Republic 12/07/09 Fantasy Flight)

I didn’t know about a unique charity but today I found an article about a Fantasy Flight program in Phoenix, where I live. For the past 13 years, United Airlines has hosted the event for homeless kids from the Pappas School. The Pappas School is a school for homeless children. The purpose of the school is to offer support services to enhance their chances of success.

About 100 homeless children from the school are flown on a 10-minute United Airlines flight to the North Pole (circling above Phoenix) and are greeted by Santa Clause after landing. Most of these kids have never flown before. When the flight ends, the children are surprised with a "North Pole" for them where they receive gifts from Santa Clause. To me this is what the spirit of Christmas is all about.

Cynics complain that it is appalling to lie to poor homeless children in this way and wonder about the future of the world.

Optimists believe that these poor homeless children experience the cruelties of real life on a daily basis and that they deserve to live a dream, if only for a moment.

I worry that these children may get sick or freeze to death, or never gradate from school.

While I was reading this article, it hit me that the Pappas School will be closing next year. All of the homeless children will be assimilated into regular schools. Of course, this is due to budget deficits in the Phoenix school district. Although I didn’t know about the fantasy flight program, I was always proud to live in a city that has a special school for homeless children.

This makes about as little sense as the school voucher program being eliminated in Washington D.C. It’s very disillusioning to live in a country where the government claims to want equality for everyone, yet they cut funding for special programs for disadvantaged children.

This does not sound like the kind of change our children deserve.

I'll need some help down from my soap box.

Unexpected Christmas Guests

2009-12-25T22:53:00.001-08:00

What

A Sight

At Our Cabin in Northern Arizona!

59 Christmas

Antelope

And so happy Xmas

2009-12-25T09:03:00.000-08:00

Peace!

Wow...just wow

2009-12-18T19:32:00.000-08:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I "would" show you a video of Bachman and her cronies praying before congressional meetings, but it would be copyright infringement.

There is a YouTube video of the gang praying for people to not receive healthcare.

Your tax dollars in action.

"Heavenly father...Please have mercy on your humble servant and bless my 401K and stock portfolio so they increase. Please, oh please, intervene on my behalf and beseech all of your flock to re-elect me. Please continue erasing from my brain, and the brains of all of your flock, all skills acquired in kindergarten, especially sharing. And if it's not asking too much, oh lord, please continue erasing from my brain, and all the brains of your flock, all the knowledge we acquired in 7th grade, especially the social and physical sciences." Amen

Think Gitmo

2009-11-28T11:31:00.001-08:00

I’ve been captured and taken prisoner by a right-wing, Cuban cigar-smoking, gun-toting, Republican. (Of course there is no hypocrisy in smoking a Cuban cigar because "it tastes so damn good.") I was minding my own business, writing my master’s thesis on feminism and Marxism in the new millennium when he stormed my study, hand-cuffed and gagged me, muttered something about education being a luxury, threw me in his 4X4 truck with the “Even on Drugs Rush is Right” bumper sticker and drove me to a secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere. Here, I am forced to listen to his diatribes about the evils of socialized medicine and the virtues of water boarding. In order to break me down, he is making me listen to non-stop Christmas music, making me watch him target shoot a photo of Nancy Pelosi, and he has taken away my access to iHazCheezburger. I am being forced to sit in a chair with a kite and a key attached to it. He says my fate is in the hands of God. Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. P.

How is your weekend going?

WTF?

2009-11-26T11:19:00.000-08:00

I would show you a YouTube video of Adam Lambert's vulgar sexual gestures during his performance on prime time TV, but that would be copyright infringement

Adam Lambert performs at the AMA, during Prime Time, on ABC.

Google it.

You know you want to!

I swear to God - If I were one of those dancers, I would sue.

Now those are some pouty lips...

2009-11-08T19:54:00.000-08:00

Pouty Lips Jr.

Gotta Love Riot Kitty

2009-10-31T20:18:00.000-07:00

Since I've been enjoying Riot Kitty's blog so much tonight, I thought I would take her up on her challenge to reveal 10 honest things about myself, so here goes it:

I belong in jail, wearing pink underwear, and eating green bologna.

I really don’t like you or anyone else for that matter.

I am smarter than you, but that's not saying much, and nonsense it all is.

I have Fred Flintstone feet.

I have a crooked left arm, crooked feet, and lots and lots of stainless steel in my body, yet I don't set off the metal detectors at the airport.

It is much harder for me to smile than to frown.

I cannot see out of my right eye at all when it is dark.

I hate bigots which is most people unfortunately.

I value freedom of speech over any other freedom.

I wish I were a bird so that I could fly far, far away.

What about you?

IN THE U.S. WE DON'T DO HONOR KILLINGS

2009-10-26T19:44:00.000-07:00

Postscript: Noor died on November 2nd, after never regaining consciousness.
As for me, the phrase "honor killing" has been removed from my lexicon permanently. This was murder.

ARIZONA REPUBLIC NEWSPAPER HEADLINE:

Lifestyle may have put woman in the hospital

Noor (20) Almaleki's father ran over her at a welfare office. She was rushed to a trauma center and is now hanging on for dear life. Her father is a fugitive from the law now, and the injuries he inflicted on her may yet kill her.

But that's not what the Arizona Republic newspaper reported. THIS is what they reported:

"The 20-year-old had pages on Facebook and MySpace. She had lots of friends. She posted details about her 5-foot-3 frame, along with an alluring photo, on a Web site for aspiring models and actresses. She lived with her boyfriend and his mother. (The harlot! Let's put a big red Letter A on her.)

That lifestyle, police say, landed her in a Valley trauma center Tuesday afternoon, unconscious and bleeding, and sent her father, Faleh Hassan Almaleki, on the run. It may yet kill her."

Her lifestyle ran over her, and then sent her father on the run, and may yet kill her.

Is it not the coroner in Baghdad's Institute of Forensic Medicine who writes: "killed to wash away her disgrace" as a cause of death on an autopsy report?

This sounds like something I'd read in a newspaper in a country that adheres to Sharia law, yet it was printed in my LOCAL newspaper.

I'm stupefied.

Caught In A Tale Wind Again?

2009-10-23T20:53:00.000-07:00

Am I alone here, or is there something wrong in Glockamara?

How is it that two Northworst Airline pilots failed to make radio contact with ground controllers for more than an hour and overflew their destination by 150 miles before discovering the mistake and turning around? As for the passengers? Apparently they were totally oblivious.

Upon landing a passenger was overhead to say: “Typical man…missing his target. And you know how bad they are at asking for directions.”

The crew told authorities they became “distracted” during a heated discussion over airline policy and lost track of their location.

I have questions…

What was the policy they were discussing…is it the one that states “remember to fly the plane?"

Were they distracted by a balloon with a six-year-old in it?

Were they having an orgy and they mistook the warning sounds for moaning sounds?

How do passengers not notice an hour in-flight delay?

Were they drunk? Were they sleeping? Were they flying while texting?

Were they playing online poker at Pokerstars.com?

And most important of all, do the passengers get frequent flier miles for the extra distance?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Let Me Tell You A Story

2009-10-10T15:44:00.000-07:00

Click here to read légende de la petite poutress.

Cryptoria's Secret

2009-10-05T18:00:00.000-07:00

Haunter's Bizarre

Nothing says fall like Halloween. Yandy.com carries a large inventory of more than 1,224 sexy female costumes styles. Size choices are small, medium, or large (38" bust and 40" hips). The most popular style is the dirty cop which features a bullet-proof corset, thigh-high fishnet stockings, and a tazer. Push the trigger and it screeches: "Dirty girl, don't taze me."

There is a market for sexy social-minded costumes, apparently. For the serious-minded brainy type they offer sexy prostate cancer researcher, sexy Acorn protester, and sexy homeless girl costumes. For the girl who seeks to impress the all American meat and potatoes type guy, they offer a sexy slaughter house employee costume.

The company also offers 258 plus-size styles including sexy boxer girl, sexy jail bird, and sexy beer belly girl costumes. Plus-size women who want to dress to impress this Halloween should wear a tarp, put a belt on it, and call it a sexy cave woman costume and save $100, a company employee was overheard to say.

This year I can't decide whether to dress up as a cover ghoul or an oxymoron:

FOOTNOTE: Ghouls Gone Wild.

This fairly fabricated fluff report was brought to you with the permission of its founder, David McMahon, best selling author and photographer. See his photography at Red Bubble.

Partly Pouty

2009-10-04T10:58:00.000-07:00

I've been busy between full-time work and graduate school and Mr P retiring. I threw him a party - I wrote skits, top ten lists, and invited all of the people he's ever worked with. Then the most horrible thing happened. His family found out about it and invited themselves. His family consists of his mother and brother. They made me look like an ass.

Brother P took the whole thing over. (What do I know about throwing a retirement party?) Apparently Brother P thought his air force experience better qualified him. His mother was talking incessantly through the whole thing, poking me, and telling me that I should have invited her 86-year-old best friend. Neither of them would let me be.

(Judging by this skit, I'd say whoever thinks lawyers are no fun is seriously mistaken.)

Remember not so long ago I told you all that I almost got laid off? If it weren't for my former boss (who campaigned to find someone to give me a job) I'd be unemployed. I proudly introduced my ex-boss to Brother P who said: "Susan, he doesn't look like a big PR*CK."

So, I ask you:

Does ANYONE have a use for a socially inept 54-year-old I'm selling on E-Bay? I'll throw the mother in for free. Human trafficking laws "be damned!"

Watch the Pirdie-Birdie

2009-10-03T08:20:00.001-07:00

Driving Ambition?

The Eye Candy Caddies agency is a caddy service providing female golf caddies with bombshell looks. The agency promises each caddy is properly trained in golf etiquette and uniformed in appropriate golf attire which they describe as tight-fitting pink uniforms. An Eye Candy spokesman explained their training teaches the female caddies all the rules of golf such as not to speak during a shot or stand too close to the putt. The agency claims they've added an extra sparkle to the game and promise that "With an eye Candy caddy by your side, other golfers will be green with envy."

The agency denied reports that they are exploiting outmoded notions of golf as a male-dominated sport.

FOOTNOTE: Fore-gone conclusion.

This fluff report is being brought to you with the permission of its founder, David McMahon, best selling author and photographer. See his photography at Red Bubble.

...More Ado About Nothing

2009-09-26T08:39:00.000-07:00

School kids taught to praise President Obama.

Was this shot in New Jersey or North Korea?

Coming soon? "You family go to re-education jail if you no sing praises to dear leader."

For Pop Tart

2009-09-20T19:47:00.001-07:00

This is for my friend who has been dismissed by the one she loves.

This is for all of us who hurt.

That would be all of us...

Sometimes.

(Berry/Buck/Mills/Stipe)

When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on
Don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes

Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go, (hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on

'Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Oh, no. Don't throw your hand
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone

If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on

Well, everybody hurts sometimes,
Everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes. So, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts. You are not alone

Partly Pouty

2009-09-13T11:26:00.001-07:00

In Queen Creek, Arizona Matthew Cordell runs a roadside stop: "Prayer Stand, Drive Thru Open." Three days per week Cordell is there from 6-10 AM, ready to pray with customers with his Chihuahua named Skye.

Why? Apparently because God told him to, or maybe it was his assistant, the Chihuahua.

Drive through food, divorce, bankruptcy, worship...What's next, drive through funerals? That may be preferable to dragging out funeral related events for two months as in the case of Michael Jackson, but I digress.

I have a money-making idea! I can start McPrayer franchises that sell sacrificial fried chickens and chicken nuggets for the soul. Instead of super-sizing for an extra 50 cents, customers will be given the option to be forgiven of all their sins along with their Big Snack-in-a-Pulpit.

I have to admit that I like his sentiment. The problem is that I have become suspicious that he may be just another anti-gay-sexual-deviant, white-ring, gun-loving, liberal-hater.

If he is for real, and he truly wants to bring people comfort, then more power to him. If I knew that for sure, I might just drive through.

Collecting My Thoughts

2009-09-06T20:09:00.000-07:00

We live in a quandary with our minds on overload.
We are over the top, pass the buck, live large, and don't see the forest for the trees.
We spend money we don't have, continually buy more, but don't have time to enjoy what we have.
We are technophiles with more for our convenience, yet we are always in a rush.
We are over educated but make no sense when we speak; we have IQ's of 120+, but we're not on the same page.
We abound with specialists, experts, and sixth sense, but we have multitudinous unsolvable problems.
We take a pill for every ailment, but wellness seems unattainable.
We have way too many vices, problems, and helplessness, but we don't pray enough.
We waste time, hate work, wish our lives away, and then wonder where the time went.
We watch too much TV, spend too much time on the internet, read too little, and don't get enough rest.
We talk too much, interrupt people, and don't listen enough, yet we think we know more than others know.

Maybe it's time for us to unplug, tune in, slow down, practice frugality, take better care of ourselves and spend more time with our loved ones...And cherish them knowing they won't be here forever.

I can only speak for myself. Change would do me good.

Shopping Maul

2009-08-29T19:03:00.001-07:00

Brought to you by the angry shopper.

I had to venture out to the mall today, to my dismay, to hunt for a nonexistent $5 retirement mug. (I'll spare you the diatribe; long story short, cheap coworkers.) Have you tried walking in the mall lately? Shoppers exit stores blindly and don't yield to the flow of passersby. They stop short right in front of you and make you bash into them, and then give you a snarky look as if to call you a mindless moron. They clog the aisles, even in the stores, to chat with friends. And when did mothers and fathers start using their baby strollers as battering rams?

Today a fashionista with an iPod bud in one ear and a cellphone in the other came flying out of a Starbucks and hit me right in the boobs. As I brushed her cafe mocha off my blouse, she only looked at me with disgust. I wished I'd pushed her back, but instead my thoughts were instantly swallowed up with visions of beating her senseless and driving her forever into her own electronic hell never to see the light of day again. If these 'technophiliac imbeciliacs' (good one) love their gadgets this much, why don't they do us a favor and stay at home and order everything online via faceless electronic transactions and leave us the hell alone.

I seem to remember my kindergarten education where I was taught to walk on the right in the hallway. Somehow I figured out that it worked well in stores and on streets just as well as in the hallways of school. And I remember a time not so long ago when shoppers and pedestrians alike walked on the right and passed on the left, paying attention to the each other. Now they dart in and out distracted by cell phones and text messages totally oblivious to the world around them.

I think the current kindergarten education should include teaching children to walk with their arms rigid so that anyone who walks into them, stops short in front of them, or careens into them while on their cell phone, bounces off from a hefty body slam.

It's fun to fantasize about knocking their blocks off, Rockem Sockem Robot style, but backing off is probably the wisest non-move. Shopping rage is as dangerous as road rage these days. Cafe mocha on the blouse is probably not body bag worthy.

Don't Take It Purrr-sonally

2009-08-22T08:14:00.000-07:00

This looks all too familiar to me.

Where I work everything is reviewed by three different levels of reviewers. In other words, there are three people getting paid to find each and every mistake I make. The snarky looks they give me are a bonus feature.

And I get notes like this:

First reviewer: "Susan, there are two misspellings in your (230 page) report."

Find two misspellings in a report that reads like this: This group, of which Corp Y is a member is collectively known as B. Corp Y elected to use C and claimed D in its taxable income (loss) computation included in the consolidated tax return for the year A.

I spend a day and a half or so trying to find them, correct them, and send the report on for second review.

Second reviewer: "Susan, there is an incorrect reference on work paper E3."

Find one incorrect reference in a work paper that reads like this: Work paper E3 provides, in effect that, if F is used in G, then no D or C will be allowed. The H issued an I on J that was deemed to be F by the tax code in K. Corp Y has L at the time of your request."

I spend a good amount of time before and after lunch hunting it down until luckily I find it by accident. I correct it, and send it on for third review.

I don't see if for a week, and another, and another, and another. I forget all about it.

Then the third reviewer wants to ask me questions about the report and I have absolutely no recollection by this time what the report even said. Come on, I've slept approximately 28 nights since submitting it for third review. News flash: I forget after sleeping only one night.

Is it like this everywhere?

Do three different levels of supervisors check each mail carrier's mailboxes, and then report back to the mail carrier that two letters on the route were misdelivered, and, by the way, figure out which ones they were? And then four weeks later the big boss comes back to the mail carrier and asks about the mailboxes that were missed four weeks ago - meanwhile the mail carrier has delivered mail 24 times and slept 28 times since then and can't possibly remember that day's mail?

One word answer: government.

El Pollo Nonsense In Arizona

2009-08-08T20:33:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's the 115 degree heat.
Maybe PMS makes you do crazy things!
Can you say medication?

Monique Aguet, 26, also known as El Pollo "Colonel" Loco, was at the drive-thru of a KFC when she became enraged when she discovered she had not been given the BBQ sauce she had requested.

Loco was then given her BBQ sauce. Screaming mad after realizing she was missing her spork, she parked her car and entered the KFC and began to yell profanities at employees. Loco was then given her spork but continued the screaming me-me act. The manager ordered her to leave the building, but chose to follow the irate customer out of the building and stand behind her car to write down the license plate number. Loco began to pull out and the manager smacked the car in case Loco didn't see her, but continued to stand there. Witnesses say Loco attempted to back out again despite the manager's warning. The employee was not injured and still did not move away from the car. Police said Loco then exited her vehicle, grabbed the manager by the arm and pulled her away from the vehicle.

"She started to yell more profanities, pointed her finger at the employee's face and at one point touched her nose," police said.

Loco was arrested on suspicion of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon and disorderly conduct and is now sweating it out in Sheriff Joe's Tent City Prison. A year from now, when people ask her what she's in for, she can tell them she ran over a KFC manager's head for not giving her a plastic spork.

My recap: They ordered her to leave, and then they obstructed her leaving.

"Get out of here, you crazy Loco girl! Wait don't go! Go on Get! No, no, no. Just wait one minute! Gotta get me a pen. Go! Hold on a minute!"

But I can read between the lines.

Here is what really happened.

Loco was looking for Oprah's freebie chicken and was screaming "WHERE'S MY CHICKEN? while the manager of the KFC misunderstood the coupon program and thought it was Cash for Clunkers, not cluckers. That's why the manager followed Loco out -- in order to assess the value of Loco's clunker. The 'put it in reverse and smack it' test is one of the program requirements.

It was a total miscommunication.

I just saw Obama on TV and he announced all of them acted loony tunes...and invited them to the White House for a clucker summit. Loco can't go though because she is wearing pink undies and eating green bologna in Tent City and doesn't have a thing to wear.

Is Kentucky Sporked Chicken worth doing time for in here? When asked this question Loco simply said, "They didn't give me my damned condom mints."

Demolition

2009-08-03T00:01:00.000-07:00

It would appear I finally brought the house down, literally.

Mr. P announced yesterday:
"If you want to be a Blog Diva, you can find another place to live."

You see, at 8:47 AM I was drinking a cuppa Joe while reading the first of my morning blogging emails when it was his desire for me to clean house.

You can't blame him after all, a man needs a maid.

It would appear I have some serious thinking to do. Meanwhile, you can visit me on Wednesdays for the "ABC Wednesday" meme on my Dream Weaving blog.

I wish I could go back and revisit the letters 'A' and 'B'.

Rump Roast!

2009-08-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

David McMahon is an internationally published author and photographer who has a weekly series where he interviews bloggers from around the world. He calls his blog authorblog and his weekly series "the Sunday Roast." His modus operandi is to promote writers, artists, and other creative types.

I love visiting Dave's Outback Cafe but I don't know about this Davy character because every time I see him he is wearing a wet suit.

I am sure, to him, I seemed a perfect choice being that I've been marinating in the desert forever. But, David, people will be asking the question, "Isn't that pure rump roast?" Nothing butt I'd say.

Here's a late breaking news flash, August 2nd was the date the world famous best-selling author chap picked to roast me on the open spit...Why?

Who blogs in August?

Only the die-hards and they're stalking me already.

He doesn't have a gazillion followers for nuttin' honey ;)

((((((((David))))))))

Now, back to my all-time favorite subject. In addition to playing lip service for the great beyond, this summer I've been trying to keep up with full-time tax collecting and graduate school. All this work gives me the nagging feeling that the old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be.

See?

Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Gray mare, gray shark, same thing, no difference.

Click here to jump over there and enjoy a hefty rump roast. You know you want to.

I Prefer Chocolate With My Twix

2009-07-31T04:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I discovered another redeeming feature of being a tax collector. I found out that some of the best resort hotels have 'pleasure kits' available for their guests. Each pleasure kit includes vibrating key chains, massagers, gel lube, and strawberry nibbler. They hide these little bundles of joy in the hotel room bar, apparently, and they pay USE tax for it.

Note to Hotel Registry: Obviously the pleasure kits you provide are not for women because female pleasure kits are most assuredly made of chocolate and look like this:

While we're on the topic...

Here is a question I often ask myself: Why do I really want sex? Then this laundry list pops to mind.

1) I love chocolate

2) Sex makes my skin glow better than the best make-up money can buy.

3) I love comedy.

4) I hate to cook or clean.

So, honey, let's be frugal. Pass me the choco-bullet, don't block my view, and let's watch Saturday Night Live together. I want to look my best for my blog interview.

Touring With Pink

2009-07-30T00:01:00.000-07:00

Sad news :( – a Northern Arizona University student died while hiking last weekend at the Grand Canyon. It is unbelievable how dangerous the heat and the terrain can be here until you actually experience it.

I thought the least I can do is tell you about a couple of other sight seeing alternatives available to you in Arizona.

Our family of four is a 4-quad family.

Mr. P rides the pink Barbie ATV; he's in touch with his feminine side.

The ugly one with the crate on the back with the missing beer may or may not be mine.

Our quads are parked at a spot overlooking our land near Snow Flake in northern Arizona. If you look out to the far right in the first picture, you can see Mesa Redondo. It’s a beautiful sight to behold.

In Arizona you pretty much have free reign to drive your quad down any dirt road you feel like driving on. You can rent quads here if you are visiting too!

You can also take a Pink Jeep Tour. I don’t know about any tours other than the Pink Jeep tours because they had me at ‘pink.’ Pink tours are available in Sedona and take you over the red rocks and through steep terrain.

The Grand Canyon tour is actually in a tram-type vehicle. It begins with Oak Creek Canyon, and offers one of the most scenic drives in America. It travels through the Ponderosa Pine Forest of Flagstaff, past the San Francisco Peaks, and on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.

My advice is to rent some quads or take a jeep tour and hang on! Don't let a little heat and critters stop you from experiencing some of the best views the southwest has to offer.

Furful Sight

2009-07-27T21:45:00.001-07:00

You caught me on a bad day
(Just a little hot flash)

You think you're hot? ARE YOU KIDDING ME!??

2009-07-23T00:01:00.000-07:00

"Welcome to Arizona...
Where White Snake, Scorpion, and King Lizard aren't desert rock bands."
(Alice Cooper)

Are you ready for a summer hike in the desert with all the critters?

Pseudonymous High School Teacher has come up with a great new idea. Those of us who are all too poor to enjoy a vacation away this year, and anyone else so inclined, will post tips about traveling, or taking a stay-cation, where we live.

I live in Phoenix, Arizona, where for the past two weeks it has been 115 degrees. I found out yesterday the highest degrees recorded in Arizona history is 140 degrees. The first thing you have to do before going for a hike in Arizona is to get over your fear that if you fall down, and get knocked out and end up lying on the hiking trail, that you will cook to death. Once you've picked your hiking destination, you want to make sure you have a cell phone and lots of water in case of an emergency.

Arizona is the most awesome destination for hiking, as long as you AVOID the middle of the day and late afternoon. Sunrises are at 5:30 AM and sunsets are at 7:30PM. This time of year, if you venture out for a hike, it should be in early morning, or early evening. I recommend planning your hike around the sunrise or the sunset, and bringing a jacket because if the temperature drops below 95, you will feel a bit chilly.

I always wear really good hiking boots, but really good athletic shoes will do. You have to wear a hat, even if you think you look like a dork. Sunglasses are a good staple too because you don't want to get cataracts from the UV rays, or lines from squinting. I use 300 strength sun screen to park my car especially since here you park according to where the shade is, not according to distance. Remember one important thing, in Arizona you can get a sunburn through the tinted windows in your car, so lather up! You also want to keep chap stick on hand so that your lips don't get chafed from you eating hot chilies to cool your mouth off. I promise you will get used to the condensation on your butt feeling because you'll be spending all of your time wishing you had cold water to splash on your face.

You have to be prepared for any contingency when you are on an Arizona trail. I always put a few rocks in my pocket in case I come across a coyote. I also make sure my mind is set that if I run across a swarm of bees that I will freeze, and not run. I will slowly turn around and walk as slowly as possible to get the hell out.

I have learned how to spot critters; the secret is to look for any kind of motion. Once you learn that trick you can be driving down the road, staring out the window, and you will most assuredly see critters. The first picture was taken around the Mogollon Rim near Payson, Arizona. It is a photo of two elk in a meadow. I think love was in the air.

An interesting tid bit; in Arizona we have elk detectors. Where the population of elk is extremely dense there are detectors along the road and, whenever an elk is actually in the area, a sign lights up saying "elk detected" so that drivers can slow down. Bumpers here make pretty good branding irons so that's a good thing.

The next photo is of an antelope who seriously was not afraid of me at all! I have found that a lot of animals and birds are afraid of the black box around my neck. Not this guy, he acted like he wanted to sit down with me and enjoy some sun tea.

The next photo is of an American Bald Eagle taken on the Fort McDowell Indian Reservation. They like to live on the Indian Reservations because they feel safe there. He also pays the fledglings to pull worms from the ground for him. (He told me so.) Call me the eagle whisperer.

The next critter is one you definitely need to watch out for. It is the Arizona Diamondback rattlesnake. They hide in the shade a lot. You want to look before you step, and listen very closely for rattling sounds when you are hiking here. These are all over Arizona and can pop up in your path anytime. There's one now hiding next to a rain collector barrel in the shade. If you look really closely, or click and enlarge, right at the very top in the middle is the rattler sticking straight up. Do you see it? This guy was at our cabin in Snow Flake.

When you are hiking in Arizona you want to adhere to all of the posted rules about fire safety including no ground fires, no target shooting, and no smoking, to avoid starting a wild fire. You also want to be able to recognize smoke when you see it so that you can retreat quickly if necessary so as not to be trapped. Smoke sort of looks like clouds. Here are some sample photos taken at the Mogollon Rim. The smoke is close to the horizon and has a blackish hue if you look really closely.

Here's another one for good measure.

Here is a typically gorgeous Arizona sunset. They are incredibly beautiful with the warm summer hues. If you want to see more, you can click on my previous Sky Watch Friday posts.

Winter hikes would have a different set of tips, but a lot would overlap. Here I am dressed up and ready for a winter hike. More about that next winter.

After your hike, if you are in the neighborhood, come on over for a swin! Come at noon when not one person is out on the street. Learn to drive with two fingers, and don't burn your hand opening the car door.

Snacks With No Nutritional Value For The Win

2009-07-18T18:44:00.000-07:00

The answer is: A snack food on which its box contains directions for procreation and caloric goodness.

What is a Pop Tart, Alex.

As I've complained before, I am known as the worst cook ever. When I first bought a box of poppy-tarts for my not-the-hubby, I had to read the toaster directions. Did you know there are two steps to preparing a pop'm'tart?

Step #1: Remove pastry from pouch.
Step #2: Insert pastry vertically.

At this point, I was wondering if the directions were for how to get the goodness in me, or directions on how to make a baby, or perhaps both.

I decided that was way too scary and confusing for me so I resorted to the second set of easier directions.

Microwave on high 3 seconds.

Sounds simple. Even I can do that, I thought. But this brought back the traumatic memories of my burning our kitchen down when I accidentally added an unwanted zero to the timer. Oh, forget it. I'll just eat them right out of the package. I guess you have to be pop-smart to toast a pop tart, and I'm not.

My friend, Pheromone Girl, created the Pop Tart Award to be given to bloggers who have an addictive story line. Apparently total and utter nonsense qualifies so she gave me the award. She also gave the award to the one and only original Pop Tart, Fireblossom, who then gave it to me. So I'm doubly popped by two tarts.

Now what I have to do is pass on the award to another blogger and link to one of their best posts. After much trepidation and inner turmoil I made my choice.

In honor of the NFL Frosted Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop Tart, I nominate Suldog for his story line concerning his own disdain upon receiving awards. You can read all about it in "Three Awards, A Meme, And A Fondue" here.

Now I'm hiding in my bunker and refusing to come out until the coast is clear. If you want to know why...well then, go read his post.

Medication Breakdown

2009-07-16T21:44:00.000-07:00

The other day I walked to the pharmacy in 115 degree heat, which felt like 150 degrees due my intermittent hot flashes. Why? Well, because my doctor says I need to exercise. Between the heat and my hormonal symptoms it felt like I just got off the elevator to hell. I was tired and sweaty and needed to sit down and rest, preferably with a pint. I told the perky young cashier that I was there to pick up my hormonal cream and headed for the nearest chair, begrudgingly settling for pure unmixed H20. The pharmacist overheard me and said, "I'm going to mix that up for you right now in less than 15 minutes." (I was hoping for a Tequila Sunrise.) He must have felt really sorry for this sweaty middle-aged hormone junky because in less than 15 minutes instead of giving me my usual puny little 3 oz vile of cream, he gave me this:

So I snarled at him in return, "Oh, goody, now I can play Nurse Ratched with my new sex toy."

It reminds me of when Nurse Rached threatened to administer medications non-orally in One Flew Over."

Folly Under Oath

2009-07-11T13:38:00.000-07:00

I am putting my right hand on the Idiot's Guide to Blogging as I repeat these words out loud:

I do solemnly swear, with this God-like type font as my witness, to hold these three blogging responsibilities to be sacred in order to protect the integrity of my posting content:

I promise not to sound like an asstard. The blogging police do not make it mandatory to post daily; therefore, I will not post out of desparation. To that end, I promise not to post about any of my own, or anyone else's, bodily functions including, but not limited to, passing wind, burping, belly button fuzz, ear wax, toe jam, boogers, or any bodily process by which substances go out of the body.

I promise not to post my video of Mr P. (non-hubbie) doing his farting dance. I promise not to post any farting videos of any kind unless, of course, it involves a cute baby.

I promise to do what I do best - slyly poke fun at the absurdities of life to get your reaction, you know, for cheap thrills and giggles, without crossing my self-imposed invisible line of bad taste. I promise to refrain from posting the YouTube Hitler video about Michael Jackson not showing up at his birthday party, no matter how tempted I am.

Obviously, the punch line of a post can get lost when the subject is unknown to my reader. To that end, I vow not to reference an entertainer, public figure, or family member without an introduction or explanation; and when possible, I shall post an accompanying movie, video, or photograph to make my point crystal clear. Not everyone on this planet knows Steve Urkel, as Princess Braja pointed out to me, before she chopped off my arms and bludgeoned me with the bloody stumps.

Braja, this one's for you in honor of your Sunday Roast interview on authorblog today. I am doing the Steve Urkel dance of celebration. I would have inserted a YouTube video of the Urkel dance, but that would have been copyright infringement.

Lastly, I promise to be succinct. I know you have at least 50 other blogs you want to visit. As Shakespeare said, "Brevity is the soul of wit." Pouty

PP Promotions - Live Free

2009-07-05T09:11:00.000-07:00

As normally happens after I've drank a few pints an idea came to me over the 4th of July weekend while sojourning at our cabin. Since cigarettes are now up to $85 per carton in the US since the 300 percent tax increase, we have been rolling our own. Granted, tobacco by the pound went up 3000 percent due to the tax increase, but it's still cheaper to roll your own. My brilliant albeit non-PC idea is to roll cigarettes and sell them for $4.00 per pack on the Internet. I wouldn't have to pay sales tax on any sales outside Arizona and Phoenix. I knew there had to be some redeeming value in being a tax collector.

My profiteering sticks will come in a tin resembling a bandage tin, oh hell, why not just use recycled bandage tins. Then I can call my business Eco-friendly. The cover will don skull and cross bones with the title: TUMORS. The front covers will say "Guaranteed to kill you." "Enjoy!" I will sell two brands regular and mild. Each regular cigarette rolling paper will have the words: "Live free and die hard." The filtered menthol "mild" cigarette (can't use the word "light" anymore by law) will have the words: "Live free and die smooth."

When you open the bandage-tin-lid these words will sing forth:

"Smoke, smoke, smoke those cigarettes. Smoke, smoke, smoke yourself to death." I'm pretty sure the 25-year copyright is expired for that tune, and I don't think Michael Jackson owned the rights to that one.

Now, all I need is a product promoter. Who can I get now that Billy Mays is no longer available? Who besides Billy has the dubious distinction of having the most annoying voice echoing 4 AM snoring. Fran Drescher!

Are you with me? Can you picture this? I'll buy me an electric cigarette roller for $400, recycle old bandage tins, and design my own skull and crossbones sticker to go on each tin. I can even put my two unemployed sloths to work and stimulate the economy. I could even help charities. I'll get everyone to save bandage tins and pay them one penny per tin and donate the money to medical research to help find a cure for cancer. I might just be the next Nobel prize winner. If Gore can win for a slide show, I think I at least have a shot. I can see it now. Philanthropist Pouty for president. PP for Prez.

Here are YouTube videos of Fran Drescher and Billy Mays so that you can hear it for yourself and make your own judgment as to whether she is the perfect person to walk in Billy's shoes.

Dear sweet and innocent teenage PBN blog followers: This is satire, fiction, and meant to be a slam at my government for trying to strip away our personal freedoms. If any of you tells yer mum that you started smoking or drinking because Pouty says it's cool - well, I don't even smoke. This is my feeble attempt at totally nonsensical humor.

ELLEN PAGE'S TEENAGE MUSICAL PARODY

2009-07-01T19:21:00.000-07:00

EVERYONE LOVES A TRAIN WRECK ESPECIALLY WHEN IT INVOLVES A GREAT JOURNEY SONG AND ELLEN PAGE.

Okay, I admit, I am the biggest Ellen Page fan ever, so forgive me for making up excuses for her...singing. Unfortunately, the best of Ellen is at the end, so hang in there. I promise, it'll be worth it. You'll laugh. She does an acoustic solo, push-ups, and Curly dances ballet. Unfortunately, as you are getting tired of hearing, I would have included the YouTube video but that would have been copyright infringement.

By the way, I had my orientation tonight because I start grad school tomorrow. My orientation has not been established yet, apparently.

Survival Of The Weirdest

2009-06-27T12:37:00.000-07:00

Good news! I made it through another round of layoffs, "this time," to quote my general manager.

It looks like a ghost town where I'm working with the many dark empty offices with spirits of employees past. There are so many vacant positions and holes in services that we all have to pitch in and provide coverage.

Something funny happened while I was filling in at City Hall the other day. We were waiting for a brief ceremony to begin. I was covering the reception desk when a tall rustic western-looking good 'ole boy with a cowboy hat walked up and said, "Is Sherry here yet?" I said, "No, not yet." He said, "Well, will you call her and tell her I'm here." I replied, "And who shall I say is here?" He said, "Tell her number one is here." I dialed the phone and said, "Sherry, John Wayne is here." The mayor managed to keep a straight face for a second before he let loose with a loud guffaw.

I doubt my unique 'interpersonal skill set' is what is keeping me around but, whatever the reason, I'm thankful to have my job, for now. Since I'm definitely in a game of outwitting, outplaying, and outlasting others I've decided to don a Survivor immunity costume to protect myself from being voted off the job next time around. It will feature a Native American-looking mask with green and yellow war paint, surrounded by snake rattlers and eagle feathers. If I never blog again, it's because I fell into a sink hole looking for rattlers and eagle feathers on the reservation. The pink print tankini is perfect casual business attire for an Arizona office.

Watt's Up?

2009-06-25T18:05:00.000-07:00

I'm in shock!

I didn't think Micheal Jackson would ever die. I thought he'd work out a magical disappearing act on a big wheel wearing pajamas on the way to a sleep over. His age was only five 10-year-olds. Besides, what bad timing since he was booked to do all of those concerts.

I have a great idea for his funeral. I think we should erect a Michael Jackson puppet using his dead body and have a zombie parade! Everyone can dress up like zombies and follow the Michael Zombie Puppet in procession slide-dancing to 'Thriller.' After the parade we can put the zombie puppet to bed for all eternity, with his blanky.

Seriously, I don't believe Michael Jackson is even dead. I think what happened is about 20 years ago aliens captured the real Michael Jackson to clone him. But after an experiment gone amok a clone with Glad bag skin was sent back as an impostor. Yes, Michael Jackson is still alive. There have been sightings in my telescope. He is still being held captive on the mother ship.

I Paid $1500 And All I Have To Show For It Is This Post

2009-06-21T14:50:00.000-07:00

When I decided to have a children, I wanted a Norman Rockwell painting. Now I'd settle for paint-by-numbers. But in my own defense, it's hard to raise kids with the ambition and drive to succeed in life. I recently bought a toy that included a diagram of how to open the package but when my kids were born I got no instructions on how to mold the blobs of clay into works of art. Even Play Doh comes with warnings on the label.

No wonder college sounds like drudgery to them. In their defense, by the time they get out of high school they are so tired of school that it's no wonder they'd rather play D&D and poker all night, smoke cigarettes until the smoke comes out of every bodily orifice, sleep all day, and watch every episode of Lost 250 times in a row, because it's more fun than working or going to college. Besides, there are no jobs, so when I tell him to go find one - fat chance that he can.

Two out of my three sons were able to overcome these vexing temptations. What's disturbing to me is that this third son of mine isn't motivated to do anything other than hang out with his friends. He and his friends may be sloths but they're not totally devoid of intellect. They all sound fairly bright when they talk to me about physics and astronomy while I sit there, with a glazed look and perfunctory grin, nodding my head every once in a while, trying to look intelligent.

I admit his failure in his first semester of college was not all his fault since he got sick unexpectedly. Half way through his first semester of calculus, medical ethics, English, and the required frosh orientation class, he had to go to the hospital. He was in the intensive care unit, and when he got out he was supposed to make arrangements with his professors to make up work - which he didn't. They don't let mommy do it for you when you're in college, even if mommy is the one paying the bill. But what about the fact that he enrolled in classes that were way too hard? I warned him to scale it down, but he insisted it was his decision. My job is to stand there with checkbook in hand, pouting, waiting impatiently to sign my name after he's made his choices.

Finally, I had to get his take on the situation so I asked him why he failed his classes. He said, "Because I'm stupid. It's not my fault. It's your bad genes, not mine." (The smart-ass gene is obviously hereditary.) I said, "Maybe it was because you were out with your friends and slept through two calculus tests, do ya think?"

As of this writing, I am fifteen hundred dollars poorer and NOW he wants to sign up for summer semester. NOW he wants to take drama. Drama class?Does this look like the face of a drama queen? I'm the one who is suffering from post dramatic stress disorder. Or, let's get down to the twenty thousand dollar question...Does this look like the face of a future college graduate?
Say yes, and you'll be my friend forever.

Gluten for Punishment

2009-06-15T19:45:00.001-07:00

"I feel Waffle"

When Hairy Met Flappy Feet

2009-06-09T00:01:00.000-07:00

I was born with crooked feet, and the doctor's remedy was for me to wear special made torture devices on my feet to bed. (Think Forest Gump.) Said torture devices made it impossible for me to get out of bed in the middle of the night to go pee. But I digress. Due to the crooked feet problem I have never moved with style or grace. My mom's solution was to enroll me in dancing lessons hoping maybe coordination is something that can be learned. Apparently not. The only good thing about dancing was taking lessons with Madonna (who didn't shave her arm pits back then either), and who never laughed at me or called me klutz.

And these days, nothing says adult like inventing unique childish names. What is your nickname? Mine is "Flying Underpants Girl." Falling over half naked; nothing is more humbling. It all happened so fast. One minute I was trying to be graceful and sensual in provocative lingerie, with intentions left to your imagination, and the next minute I was waking up on the floor looking up into a handsome paramedic's face, who was seriously trying to suppress a laugh, "It looks like you may have wet your pants, did you have a seizure?" By managing to overlook the humiliation factor - I have to admit that it wasn't a total loss, considering the eye candy that came to my rescue. That and given the fact that the hotties let me ride in the front seat of the firetruck to the hospital, and the cute driver let me play with his horn. Mr P had to drive himself. I waved.

While we're on this steamy topic, do you think being fortunate looking is a requirement to be a firefighter? I envision an application question that asks this:

Circle the box below that best describes you:

1. I am not so hard on the eyes.
2. People are always drooling on me.
3. People black out in sexy undies just so that I can come to their rescue.

And then do they hire whoever circles number 3?

Admittedly, I'm pretty used to this nicknaming thing by now, since I am ranked the world's most Accident-Prone Person of Disaster by the Harvard-Klutz-based Center for Research. The experts tell me Australians borrowed the phrase 'Fuggen Galah!' from me. My one and only claim to fame. In retrospect, this was all in a day's work for "Flying Underpants Girl." And I guess it could be worse - "Trashy Soggy Drawers," and "Hairy Arm Pits Girl" come to mind.

Prickly Pairs

2009-06-08T00:01:00.000-07:00

Happy Cactus Monday

Summer Breeze Makes Me Feel Fine

2009-06-07T18:12:00.000-07:00

I enjoy a cool breeze around my privates.

Sky Watch Friday

2009-06-05T06:30:00.000-07:00

Northern Arizona - naturelle

To read my first Flash Fiction Fridy 55, click here.

Cactus Monday

2009-05-31T23:03:00.001-07:00

MANY DIFFERENT VIEWPOINTS

Post-script: This shot is of Pinnacle Peak. It is one of several mountain landmarks in the Valley. It's in Scottsdale about 20 miles north of where I live. I pass another distinctive mountain, to and from work every day, called Camelback Mountain. I have to learn how to use my wide angle lens on my new camera so that you can see it. I am fortunate to live pretty much at the foot of the mountain preserve that goes all the way from where I live to Piestewa Peak about 10 miles away. I should never complain because I have easy access to beauty every day.

Sky Watch Friday

2009-05-28T12:50:00.000-07:00

Any Old Night In Arizona

Just for fun, no edits - naturelle.

Cacti-huly Monday

2009-05-25T00:01:00.000-07:00

"I am tr-huly obsessed with Dale Chihuly's glass art"

I see icy reflections

2009-05-23T19:56:00.000-07:00

Today, I visited the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix to see the Dale Chihuly exhibit: The Nature of Glass. Chihuly creates free-form hand-blown glass art, with one art historian calling his work "liquid light." I'm going to create a slide show for my side bar but in the meantime I wanted to show everyone the best photo of the day which I've entered into the Chihuly photo contest that ends June 1st. I needed a little pick-me-up today and Chihuly makes me happy. Please enlarge to fully appreciate the reflections. It looks like I could put ice skates on and go skating in 90 degree weather.

Remembering Surrogate Moms

2009-05-10T12:51:00.000-07:00

How will I be celebrating Mother's Day? I invited an elderly (84) lady who never had any kids over for Mother's Day dinner. There are so many people out there who are "like a mother" to people. Hannah and Senta, my two elderly friends, who are coming over later for dinner, are my surrogate moms. My own mom died when I was 21 and didn't get to see many Grand-kids.

To all of you mothers and "surrogates" out there: Happy Mother's Day!

This video is a great performance by John Lennon, and it serves as a reminder for me that not everyone had a happy childhood, and not everyone feels warm and fuzzy when they think of their mothers. The thing I will never understand about John Lennon is how he could have such a horrible childhood experience, and then turn his own back on his son Julian. But, I'm still a fan and think he had to have been going through scream family therapy at the time he wrote this.

Two Hotties And A Scholar

2009-05-06T18:05:00.001-07:00

I am back safely from my trip to Michigan. All handshaking was outlawed at the graduation ceremony due to the health authorities not wanting to spread the swine flu. Here is Sonny in his processional. He is too smart for his brain, apparently.

I got to meet up with my blogger friend, Fireblossom, who is author of the poetry blog The Word Garden. It was as if we've known each other forever and we just picked up where our last emails left off. It was certainly a treat to meet her, and I got to interview her.

Here we are, Pouty and Fireblossom, two hotties. We're too sexy for our shirts. Well, maybe 20 years ago!

Questions for Blossom:

1) Where did you grow up? Was poetry and writing part of that mix? I grew up right here in the Detroit burbs. And yes, my father loved books and had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves put into our home. Mostly non-fiction, though. Myself, I can remember being a little tiny kid and loving the library. I still remember how those worn old books from the school library felt in my hands and how much I enjoyed finding them and wrapping myself up in them. Dr. Seuss was a big favorite early on.

2) Who are your poetic influences, favorite poets, writers, artwork, other things that inform your work? My favorite poet is Emily Dickinson. I feel a connection there that I can't put into words. I also love and have been influenced in my own writing by: Poe, Whitman, Christina Rossetti, Amy Lowell, nonsense verse, as well as the Beats, who were a very early and strong influence. Alan Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Gregory Corso and novelist Jack Kerouac. Later, I came to love the lyrical flow of Tennyson and Longfellow. I love the art of Susan Rios and J.W. Waterhouse. But everything I love goes into the blender that is me and comes out in my poetry.

3) What is your process? Where do you write? Is ambiance important? Do you have rituals or habits when you write? I write in longhand, in a series of spiral notebooks. I like them to have interesting covers, but can't always find good ones. I write at my computer desk, and sometimes use music to deepen a particular mood. I most often compose about an hour after I get up, which is a problem since five days a week i am at work. It is extremely rare for me to take more than an hour to write a poem, and 99% of the time I finish them in a single sitting. I carry a little Emily The Strange notebook at work so that if inspiration strikes, I can at least jot down the bones of it. When I am writing, I won't stop to eat, pee, nothing, until I am done unless I absolutely am forced to.

4) If you could pass on only one piece of advice to other poets, what would it be? Respect the language. Words are your tools, you must care deeply about them. And READ. Every time I read Pablo Neruda, I feel that I have far to go and it just makes me want to write better.

Thank you, Fireblossom, for sharing your heart with us through your poetry.

Almost Empty Nest

2009-04-26T15:40:00.000-07:00

Sonnet No. 1 (AKA "A Cautionary Tale")

Hummingbirds reflecting brilliant colors
gleefully magnify what the sun sees;
Endlessly whipping wings that whir and burr
while joyfully sipping spring's sweet nectar.
Goldfinch clinging with long legs and sharp claws
perches easily on plants and seed socks;
Noisily swinging, rising, and falling,
and moving and singing in wavy pitch.
Herons wisely seek food night and day
wading undaunted in unknown waters;
Clumsily they beat their long wings in flight
crying such raucous sounds as "Ar" and "Quawk".
I admonish myself to see the birds,
Soon they will fly away and leave the nest.

This was my first attempt, ever, to write a Shakespearean Sonnet. Mechanically, it should have three quatrains and a couplet. It took six days, and I read it out loud, and tweaked it about a thousand times. Good thing I was home alone all weekend or the family might have called the white coats to come and take me away, ha-ha.

(Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)

Making A Memory

2009-04-25T12:24:00.001-07:00

Throughout blog-land lately there are lots of posts about spring weeds, especially dandelions. A post by Penny of Napple Notes brought back a sweet memory for me that I haven't thought about in probably 30 years with her post entitled: "End Of The Road For All Dandelions." Do stop by and read it, if you have time. Unfortunately, some of my memories are not worth remembering, but this one is special.

My daddy made homemade dandelion wine when I was a little girl. He gave my two sisters and I pails and set us loose to gather as many dandelions as we could in our very own backyard. Picture in your mind's eye, three little girls all with buckets, picking dandelions, and collecting them like they were golden nuggets with stems. We skipped and laughed and pulled as many of those golden flowers as we possibly could for our daddy. No one, certainly not daddy, told us they were pesky weeds. While filling our pails we picked and ate raspberries and strawberries that were growing in harmony with the dandelions.

It was magical.

We proudly gave our pails full of golden flowers to daddy who fermented them in our bathtub. At the time I didn't know what he was doing - I just thought they looked lovely floating in the water in the tub. We got bathed in the kitchen sink by mommy until the dandelions were ready for bottling. I remember multitudinous dusty bottles of homemade dandelion wine in our basement growing up.

Our daddy must have believed in the adage, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." My sister Nicci, to this day, has a "glass half full" attitude. Me...not so much. This is a childhood memory I cherish.

(Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)

Visit David McMahon of authorblog
for his series entitled
Post Of The Day

Reflections of my week

2009-04-24T19:28:00.000-07:00

This week we had three days in a row of 90-102 degree weather - almost swimming weather. Almost...swimming weather.... 90-102 degrees. OK, it's not funny if I have to 'splain it to you Lucy! At my going away party this past Wednesday, I had just finished tipping my glass for a drink when someone said one of the charter officer candidates looks like Guetto... causing Coke to spew from my nose. That created quite a memorable exit!

I gave my two sons money for haircuts at the beginning of the week and they still look like Mutt and Jeff. Leonard and Squiggy. Frick and Frack. Do I need to draw you a picture?

I'm starting a new job this coming Monday and I heard that a future co-worker said "Goody" when she heard the news. God, please tell me it wasn't sarcasm. I also heard that someone else who works there asked if I know what I'm getting into. I might be in for a wild ride.

I asked Mr. P. if he loves me. He answered dryly, "No." Without a moment's hesitation I said, "Thank God!" And since frying pans have two uses, I began multi-tasking.
Visit Mrs. 4444 at Half-Past Kissin' Time to read more short vignettes written by bloggers about their past week.

Flying Colors

2009-04-24T09:33:00.000-07:00

Lofty mountains watch
blue and pink celebrate spring -

Yellow says good night.

Please click on the Sky Watch Link in the sidebar for a look at skies from around the globe.

Cacti-pus Monday

2009-04-20T00:01:00.000-07:00

"Ocotillo Ursula"
(click to enlarge.)

Visit David McMahon's
Post of the Day Series
at Authorblog

The Attack of the Killer Cook

2009-04-18T12:04:00.001-07:00

Hilary of The Smitten Image blog recently created a book cover design for me and included it in her "Authors & Artists" posts. Please visit her because I know you will enjoy her three-part series of CD and book jackets she designed for so many of the authors and artists we know and love.

Hilary designed an ingenious book jacket for my long-anticipated microwave cookbook entitled: "A Moment of Time" which was penned under the pseudo-name "Othello Dexter," to protect the innocent. The subtitle of my book is: "Attack of the Killer Cook!" Believe me, I epitomize every bad cook joke you have ever heard. For 30 years I have been known as the worst cook ever.

My book chronicles my family's hazardous journey. In my book, I start at the beginning. I reveal that I am the real reason the toaster oven manufacturer's added a warning to their ovens: "If contents ignite, keep door closed and unplug oven." I fed my kids frozen waffles heated up in the toaster oven thinking "I can't mess those up." You think? It resulted in a ginormous insurance claim. If the microwave manufacturers ever read my book, they will surely add a flashing red signal to all future microwaves that screams: "HELP!" I once accidentally added an extra zero onto a 4-minute microwave time and almost burnt the house down.

It's all in the book, and there are many true biographical anecdotes revealed:

My kids can tell you about our green-stained kitchen curtains. You mean you aren't supposed to shake jello to mix it?
I once looked in a cook book to find a recipe for green tea. I thought it involved food dye. (Apparently green is not my color.)
I found that left-over spaghetti makes an artsy trivet.
My deprived children ate pre-cooked holiday feasts I ordered from the local grocery store.
My children's idea of a picnic was putting out flaming meat on the grill with their water guns.
I'm divorced. Hungry Man Jack found someone who made him some food.

Finally, the last chapter: "Aren't there plenty of good restaurants out there?"

"Some Days I Wish I Could Fly"

2009-04-17T12:47:00.000-07:00

I admit, this has to be gauche to create a link to my own past post...but, in my own shameless defense, I think my "Some Days" mini-movie goes well with today's Sky Watch photo. So, I'm linking to it, just in case someone out there would like to imagine, for a moment, what it would be like to be a bird.

Language Of Secret Silence

2009-04-13T00:01:00.000-07:00

Two wide-eyed flowers
Rise up from their prickly nest:
Slow down. We see you.

So Tired

2009-04-10T23:17:00.000-07:00

There is no justice in the world, and there is no argument about that. Mama warned me. Her list goes on and on and includes everything from apartheid to AIDS. But Mama never told me; no, Mama never warned me, that when I made the decision to give birth to three children I was basically signing a life sentence of nary a good night's sleep. Mama didn't tell me that murderers on death row probably get a better night's sleep than parents do.

I didn't sleep through the night for 30 long, tiring years because pleasant dreams were perpetually disrupted by kids; now the eldest is 29 and the youngest 18. When they were babies they woke me up several times in the night, wailing as loudly as humanly possible, telling me they would surely perish if I didn't give them milk to drink within 30 seconds. Mama told me I wasn't supposed to hook them up and put them in bed with me, and let them suckle while I slept, but I didn't listen. You try sleeping with one of your appendages being sucked on like a super-hoover. This type of thinking outside the tit is not conducive to a good night's sleep, believe me.

Thinking back there was always a wet, scared, or hungry interloper standing next to the bed, shaking me frantically to wake me up, at some point before dawn's early light. Later I couldn't sleep at all because they were not home yet, and I was sure they were lying dead in a gutter somewhere.

When my kids were growing up I kept thinking some day when they're finally grown I might get a good night's sleep. They are grown but, apparently, fate has played a
twisted, dirty trick on me. Now that I "can" sleep in, I don't, because I have to get up in the middle of the night to pee twenty times. I guess having three 15-pound fetuses bouncing on my bladder causes "gotta pee" syndrome. Now, why did I not extrapolate that? I should have known that one day my taunting bladder would take over my dreams singing, "Na-na-na-boo-boo, wake up or you'll pee yourself." Great! Titillating dreams of my youth have been replaced by ones of urgent bodily functions.

What's worse than being tired for three decades is what happens to Mr. P. He falls asleep standing in front of the toilet holding the family jewels. Then I fetch him and help an old man to bed. Look, Mama! A punch line with no joke.

Sky Watch Friday

2009-04-09T13:30:00.000-07:00

"Dreamcatcher feathers in the sky"

Cactus Monday

2009-04-06T00:01:00.000-07:00

Cacti Smorgasbord
(click image to enlarge.)