Friday, January 27, 2006

The Perfect Me

I have discovered the key to perfection. Pay attention, I know you’ve been searching for this information, too. I missed it before because it takes me a while to wake up; I am not much of a morning person. That’s no real excuse, I know, because it’s all there, everyday, plain as can be.

I wake up at 4:30 am. I need a good half-hour of caffeine before lucidity begins to set in. During that time, I flip through the channels on TV and mindlessly encourage my body into action. This morning, it hit me: everything I need to be the perfect person can be purchased for three easy payments of $29.95 each and shipping is included.

The first offers I came across were for moneymaking schemes. Since this, and all of the rest of the things I need, cost, this is a good place to start. Thank goodness there are three or four options going on at once and by getting them all, I can cover all bases and be profitable in no time flat.

I will begin with learning about stocks and bonds and financial planning, a good solid base for my future riches. Once I have my foundation, I will follow with rapid real estate turnover purchasing with little or no money down and flesh out my capitalism with coin and diamond investing. Three hours a week is all I need to accomplish my financial freedom.

Now that I no longer have money worries, I can work on my physical being. I am sure you will be shocked to learn that there are creams and pills that can knock twenty years off of your life. I know I was, but it’s true. It’s so easy; take a pill and rub on some white creamy stuff and you are sixteen again. You’ll need the extra 20 years for the diet and exercise plans that will keep you trim and slim, with 8-pack abs. All of this is worth the fifteen minutes a day the programs require.

The next part of perfection and fulfillment is attraction by the opposite sex (or the same sex, as the case may be.)

Girls Gone Insane is a lesson to us all that getting wasted, frenching your girlfriends while smacking them on the ass and then removing your top in front of hundreds of drunken men, is the ultimate in personal relationships. Women have struggled for decades to satisfy the need to express their uninhibited trashy natures. At last, true equality.

After a lewd weekend romp, I can go home and take care of my womanly chores, which won’t be too bad because I will have an air filter that removes all dirt, dust and toxins from the air. What that doesn’t get, I will take care of with my tornado vacuum that sucks up anything the air filter misses. While I’m doing my minimal housework, my seven-course dinner is cooking on its own in my space age rotisserie.

I can purchase God through the crying preacher. My spiritual thirst will be quenched with his special bible and prayer cards that give me a direct line to the enlightenment of my soul.
To round out my persona, I can take care of my intellectual side with a degree in auto repair.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006


I looked up from reading on the couch last night and the bench your bed occupied is empty.

I only made dinner for Cody and your countertop didn’t have little bits of smelly fishy food all over it. I packed your dishes away as soon as I got home.

Cody looks at the basement door, wondering when you will come slinking up so he can chase you around the living room and sniff your butt.

Erika won’t have to clean your catbox anymore, one less thing for us to fight about.

Vince can look at the furniture without yelling about you ripping it apart and he won’t have to hid the fact that he pets you even though he hates cats.

I slept through the night (induced by two huge, water tumbler sized gin and tonics) and you didn’t jump at the door to be let in or whine at three in the morning or startle me by staring at me from my pillow.

I waited for you this morning while I sat on the toilet but you didn’t come for your one and only pet session of the day.

I don’t have to watch my step when I’m half asleep and I don’t have to guard the door at night so you won’t slip out.

Everyone says I did the right thing. Fourteen years is a long life and I think you had a good one.

I know you are kneading Gods knee, while he grimaces at your claws. I love you.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Dangerous Minds, Not

On Monday, January 16, 2006, Ray Nagin, mayor of New Orleans (at least for the time being) made the following statement, "I don't care what people are saying Uptown or wherever they are. This city will be chocolate at the end of the day," he said. "This city will be a majority African-American city. It's the way God wants it to be."

This statement upset all kinds of people. Supporters, detractors, and people that don’t normally pay attention, all sat up, gasped and said, "Oh, my God. What did he just say?"

I‘d like to know why people are shocked when a politician says something stupid. Politicians are, after all, only third rate actors that couldn’t get paid the big bucks in Hollywood because they just aren’t very good actors. I mean, come on, did you hear his save?

"How do you make chocolate? You take dark chocolate, you mix it with white milk, and it becomes a delicious drink. That is the chocolate I am talking about," Nagin said. "New Orleans was a chocolate city before Katrina. It is going to be a chocolate city after. How is that divisive? It is white and black working together, coming together and making something special." If someone wrote this for him, he needs a new scriptwriter. If he’s speaking on his own, then he’s doing us a big favor. He is detailing the thinking process or lack there of, that goes on in his mind. He did us a big favor.

I like it when people speak their minds. I know exactly where they are coming from then. There’s no guessing if they might be stupid, racist, homophobic, dumb, pedophiles or idiots. Their words speak for themselves.

When George W. Bush speaks, I can plainly see that he can not string two thoughts or words together to make a sensible comment. This doesn’t bother me. I can tell he’s not dangerous. He’s dumb. Some people say it’s all an act. If he were really that good an actor, he’d be competing with Tom Cruise for the big bucks.

Tom Cruise shows his intelligence every time he makes a statement that is not scripted. Look at his behavior when he doesn’t have a writer. He jumps on other people’s furniture. Didn’t his mommy teaching him any manners? Feet off of the furniture, Tom. But at least he can act. His chimp impersonation was stellar.

I think we should applaud when these people speak. Encourage them to speak their minds. They tell us who they really are. They are safe. Since you know where they are coming from you have a chance of defending yourself. If someone who tells you who they are and what they believe in and you don’t do anything to protect yourself then it’s on you. You have only yourself to blame if one of these people get you because you should have seen it coming.

It’s like when a guy says to you, "I only want a good time; I’m not into commitment." If you don’t believe him and act accordingly, you are just being a chump. He’s not being coy. He’s not some poor soul that’s been waiting for you to save him. He’s a jerk, telling you he’s a jerk. Don’t cry later that you didn’t have a clue.

When I see a mouthpiece, I look around behind him to see who is the real power person; it’s always the quiet ones; the real power behind the throne. These are cliché for a reason.

You can defend yourself from the guy coming at you head on, but the one coming up behind you can get you in the ass.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Disconnected Prologue

All I see is the red. The red fans out into the water. It swirls back on itself. It floats over the foam made by the tiny rapids around the rocks. The slit in her throat gurgles with the stream. The red and the water and the throat combine, overlapping in my vision with the pinpricks of sunlight bouncing off of the brook.

Pain doubles me over, guilt and grief bringing me to my knees. The shards along the creek edge slice through my breaches creating wounds that add more stain to the water. I press my mouth against hers. I anoint myself with the life draining from her neck. I lie down beside her, my black hair dampening as it twines with her blanched tresses. I want to follow her where she is going. I want to follow her as I have always followed her. I take my dagger from her throat and place it against my own. I close my eyes.

The distant clink of metal on metal rattles our communion. I rise up on my elbow and turn my ear in the direction of the sound. I pause, waiting for a repeat of the disturbance. Braying hounds and grumbling men float to me. My horse whinnies over by the huckleberry bush he is tied to. I open my eyes, blink and shake my head. Droplets fall onto my tunic. I drag my hands through my hair. I ball my eyes, scratching my brow with the ring on my right hand. I push myself to my feet and look back down at her.

"I am sorry."

Her eyes stare back at me, all trust vacant.

"I vow to finish this for you."

My horse stomps and paws the moss. He stretches his neck and pulls back his shoulders, releasing his reins from the bush. The ferns around him crush and dye blue from the berries.

I pull her body out of the water. I reach down, unfold her fingers from the crucifix she clutches. I stuff the crucifix in my pouch, wipe the blood from my knife in the dirt and return it to its sheath. I arrange her arms across her chest and pull the hem of her gown down to her ankles. I stroke my fallen tear from her cheek, then stand.

Dogs crash in the brush. Men yell to the dogs and each other, cheering and cursing and encouraging each other on. I make out the words, "catch," and "burn," and "hang." Arrows spit from the mouths of men.

I grab my horse's bridle, haul myself into the saddle and head him into the water. Hooves on rocks clap and thunder. The water splashes up our sides, we shiver and tremble. We pause where the stream branches off in two directions. We pick one and do not look back.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

I Have Issues

I have issues with the use of the word issues. Buzzwords generally make me nuts, but this one is really driving me around the bend.

Yesterday, I had an Officer of the Law call me regarding an accident one of our drivers had last week. He needed information about the driver and our insurance company. Yes, he had gotten it at the time of the incident, but unfortunately, his computer had "issues" and lost the information. And being the self-controlled person I am, I replied, "You computer had ‘ISSUES’?" It made him stop in his tracks, think about what he said, and laugh.

His computer didn’t break, blow-up, shutdown, fry, frazzle or foam at the mouth. It had issues. The computer’s hard drive didn’t crash, grind to a halt or explode. It had issues. Ugh!

Everybody and everything has issues now. We don’t have problems with our neighbors, we take issue with their behaviors. I don’t have difficulties paying my bills, I have cash flow issues. I didn’t get a flat tire, I have issues with the inflation level of my automobile’s rotary motivation devices. Bullshit. Chickenshit. Dogshit. Call things what they are damnit.

Granted, the term is not always being used incorrectly. Here are several definitions: 1) A point or matter of discussion, debate, or dispute 2) A misgiving, objection, or complaint 3) A personal problem or emotional disorder. So, I don’t take exception with its use on the basis of improper handling (except when inanimate objects seem to have issues.) On the contrary, almost everyone seems to know how to use it and that is the crux of the matter.

It is already trite, banal, commonplace, over used, hackneyed, old-hat, threadbare and boring. Use a different word for pity’s sake. You’re making me wacky.

Monday, January 16, 2006

Cyborgs and Idiots

Today, I went to a convenience store that I shall not name, but I could have cried like a baby. The noontime crowd packed in like sardines, waiting for the gourmet fare offered by delightful stewards of the mid-day meal. I ordered a tuna hoagie with Swiss cheese, lettuce and vinegar using the clever computerized terminal and began to wait my turn to receive my luscious lunch.

Probably not unlike you, when boredom sets in, I look around and stare at people and eavesdrop on their conversations. Many people presented themselves for my perusal and the buzz of conversation exceeded safe decibel limits. Dizziness overtook me and I felt sick to my stomach. I traveled to another dimension, filled with babbling, idiot, Cyborgs, staring off into space and snaking their heads from side to side.

Every other person in the room sported a mechanical device wrapped around their cauliflower ears. No one spoke to another person in the room. They all spoke out into the room like schizophrenics talking to their tinfoil gods. There were so many disconnected conversations going on at once that none were intelligible.

People walked into each other, danced around children lost in the void of adult inattention, and displayed behavior reminiscent of asylum inmates during Queen Victoria’s reign. Bursts of inappropriate laughter shot forth, startling in its maniacal loneliness. Private matters advertised themselves to the general public, not requiring a tabloid paper to broadcast the news. One person even ran into the frozen coffee mixer, knocking over cups, straws and cupcakes, without breaking stride in walk or word.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Meet Quiet Vinnie

This is my husband. He always has a beer can in every picture taken of him. This drives my mother crazy, but it is now a tradition, so she has to go along with it. I can't show you his face, because he says someone is looking for him and he doesn't want to be found.

As you can surmise from this photo, he drinks beer (duh!) drives a pickup truck, drives a tractor-trailer for a living, wears a baseball cap, hunts, fishes and plays golf. He also has a beautiful singing voice, perfect for Sinata. He only wears suits for weddings and funerals, even though he looks beautiful when he does.

Despite his name, he is rarely quiet and he is not italian.

Friday, January 13, 2006


Today, here in New Jersey, it is Friday, the thirteenth (I bet it is where you are, too.) It is the first Friday, the thirteenth of 2006. There is only one other this year and it is October.

Today is extra special because there is also a full moon, the only such combination this year. It has been pea soup foggy all day and a big storm is coming for the night. Driving to work at 5:30 this morning was very surreal. The roads were empty. My headlights were bouncing in all kinds of weird directions and sounds were muffled and squelched.

I have no fear of Friday the 13th (the day, not the movie - I don't watch scary movies, I have very vivid, action packed, full color dreams, I don't need to add fuel to the fire.) I pride myself on being different than the rest of the mundane world. I always do the opposite of what everyone else is doing. Phtst! (I just raspberried myself.)

This day has always been good to me. Once when I was a teenager, I filled out 13 forms for a contest on Friday the 13th and won $50 in toys.

Today, my husband got a suprise bonus from work and since he gives me all of his money, that means I got a bonus. So, I'd like to thank the universe for giving us a little something special today. Thank you Universe.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Family Business

I'm a TV baby. Both of my parents worked, so the TV was our babysitter. I almost always have it on, except when I'm at work and then it's the radio. I usually do not pay much attention to either, they are mostly background noise. They block out the scary sounds of the world outside.

Thank God I had them on today, because otherwise I would have missed the earth shatteringly joyous news the Brangelina are procreating. If you hadn't heard, yes, it's true, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are pregnant. What a spectacular achievement. What an astounding event.

I suggest a national holiday to celebrate the happy news. If everyone in the US sends me a dollar, I will throw BP & AJ the best baby shower anyone ever had. I will post the pictures. Send all donations to

Wednesday, January 11, 2006


I believe the most important trait in another human being is honesty; real honesty between two people. Blunt, truthful, sincere and helpful honesty, so I know where the other person is coming from. I don’t want polite, politically correct comments. I want the truth.

Sure a sense of humor is important. I love to laugh. I like it when people tell me jokes. I bore easily, so entertainment is a big thing with me, but you can’t build a life on it. Well, you can if you live in the amusement park called Hollywood, but most of us don’t.

Romance, manners and politeness are good. They make life seem pretty and rosy and comfy-cozy. But they often cover up realities that help us negotiate through the obstacles that everyone encounters. Life sucks and someone should tell you before it’s too late. Being polite to Ted Bundy got a lot of women killed.

Both my husband and my daughter treat me with honesty and I return the favor. When my husband drinks too much and doesn’t get done the things he had planned because he had a hangover, I don’t say, “Oh, honey, you were sick.” I say, “Maybe next time you’ll know better.” When my daughter complains that she’s driving a beat up old mini van and all of her friends have cool cars, I don’t say you poor deprived child, I say, “Get a job and you can have one, too.” When I’m being a bitch and whining and throwing mini hissy fits, my husband tells me to quit acting like an ass and get over myself. I say, “Fuck off.” And we all feel better.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

2006 Astrology Guide

There's alot of talk lately about the end times. What with all of the wars and natural disasters, many people are sure we are going to bite the big one soon.

In an effort to set your minds at ease, I channeled Nostradamus, Edgar Cayce and Mother Shipton. They gave me some pointers to pass along to everyone for the coming year. Remember, don't kill the messenger.

Aries (March 21-April 19) You have a poor grip on existence and therefore find it necessary to lie your way through life. Making up stories is not ok if you believe they are true. You will spend this year ramming your head up against reality.

Taurus (April 20-May 20) There is a reason yours is called the sign of the bull. You are definitely full of it. No one is more self-righteous. This year you will discover that the ring in your nose is because you are not a leader but meant to be lead.

Gemini (May 21-June 21) The symbol of your sign is a set of Twins because you are schizophrenic. You are not a multi-tasker unless you finish something. Be prepared to spend most of this year talking to yourself.

Cancer (June 22-July 22) You are billed as astrology’s homebody but in reality you just can’t find the energy to put on clothes. You are crabby in public. If you put some energy in cleaning up, it wouldn’t be necessary to walk sideways around the piles of crap in your room.

Leo (July 23-August 22) You stand head and shoulders above everyone else. Your pride knows no bounds. Just because you are paranoid, doesn’t mean the rest of the world isn’t out to get you. Duck.

Virgo (August 23-September 22) Being an 80-year-old virgin isn’t cute. Knock the cobwebs off and give it up. No one will call you a slut. At least, not to your face.

Libra (September 23-October 22) Get your scales rebalanced if you intend to get through this year. Make a decision, any decision. The world won’t come to an end. Oh, maybe it will.

Scorpio (October 23 - November 21) You can’t keep friends if you are constantly killing them with your poison stinger. Relax a little and enjoy some fun. Stop poking that thing in people’s faces.

Sagittarius (November 22-December 21) Get the lampshade off of your head, you are not the life of the party. People are laughing at you, not with you. You are a few arrows short of a full quiver.

Capricorn (December 22-January 19) Always being as stubborn as a goat and looking for the greener pastures in someone else’s field could get you shot. You could also be more discerning in your diet.

Aquarius (January 20-February 18) Yes, we all know you are perfect. No really, we know. I swear, you are the pinnacle of humanity. I’m not kidding, you are awesome. Would I lie to you? There is no room for improvement. You can die now.

Pisces (February 19-March 20) This year you will discover how to have sex with yourself, thus achieving your greatest ambition of eating your own tail. You will demonstrate this new skill on international TV, satisfying your need to be the center of attention.

Monday, January 09, 2006


Fear is a personal friend of mine. It has been with me so long now that I almost don’t remember a time without fear, but I do. I remember being fearless when I was 5 and younger. I remember the carefree, joyousness of each day, bounding out of bed and ready to tackle any and all adventures. I can actually still feel it in my very soul and everyday after the loss of my freedom, I have been striving to get it back, like Peter Pan trying to hold on to his shadow.

Each day, each hour and every minute, I congratulate myself on completing the moment before, on putting one step before the next, on accepting the challenge of going worth in this world. No one knows I feel this way. People that know me would never believe these feelings are harbored within me. But, quite often, the only thing that keeps me going is that I am a survivor and I refused to be beaten, especially by something as insubstantial as fear. People often wonder why I don’t “do more with my life.” If they only knew how hard it was to just keep breathing, they wouldn’t wonder. And believe me, this isn’t depression and I’m not suicidal. I am immobilized. I am blocked and hindered by this vast wall of nothingness that feels like a barricade.

I am not afraid of snakes or heights or closed in places or real substantial things that make some sort of sense. I am afraid of the unknown. This is why getting out of bed in the morning is so frightening. I never know how the day will go or whom I will meet or what obstacle will be placed within my path. It is so hard to start something when you are so afraid of how the process will go. Not just the outcome. I really don’t care about succeeding or failing (I used to think that’s what it was) but I am afraid of not knowing what is going to happen. Once I am in the process, I feel better and I whiz through things, No Prob.

I lost my faith in my self at such a young age: my ability to discern, my ability to protect, my ability to hear my own voice. As the years go by, as each day is negotiated, and the fear hasn’t become a real monster, I get somewhat better, but there is still a huge pocket of the ugly, grimy stuff that threatens to suffocate me on occasion.

Sunday, January 08, 2006


This was a very satisfying weekend. I slept late (7am) each morning. I usually get up at 4:30am. I cleaned out several drawers and cabinets in my kitchen. I replaced my broken and chipped dishes with a new set. I setup my new blog where I will attemp a serialized novel (Storytime.) We went to my brother's house to watch the Pittsburgh Steelers football game (my father is a die hard fan and thank God they won.) It was a good game once it got going. I got to see my great nephew. There were no fights or arguments. I heard a good tasteless joke:

What does a guy from Philadelphia dunk his pretzel in?

A girl from New Jersey.

(comedian Marty Allen)

I think I'll be able to start the new week with a certain amount of satisfaction.

Friday, January 06, 2006

Pain In The Ass

I've always been a pain in the ass. I never conformed to expectations. If you say black, I'll say white. I believe this came from spending too much time on my own.

My father was in the army, so we moved around quite a bit. He;s from very, very, very small town in the Pennsylvania hills. My mother is Austrian from the Salzburg area (think Sound of Music.) My mother's grand-mother lived in a 500 year old multi-family farm house. The walls were 2 feet thick. Her apartment was on the second floor, no indoor plumbing, only the kitchen heated by a castiron wood stove. As you enter the apartment, you enter the kitchen. Then, you go through a door into the sitting room. Through the next door was the big bedroom. Through the last door at the back was the small bedroom. The rooms were attached to each other by thick doors. Each door had a lock.

We were at my great-grandmothers apartment once when I was four. I was playing in the middle bedroom. No one was in the back bedroom. All of the adults were in the sitting room, drinking, smoking and having a grand old time. I was the only child there.

I closed the door between the sitting room and the bedroom. No one paid me any attention. I flipped the lock on the door. No one heard. Oh, did I mention the spare bottles of Scnapps were kept in the back bedroom?

They tried to open the door. They were out of booze. It was locked and I couldn't remember how to unlock it. There was a great deal of yelling. Panic. Outrage. Instructions were screamed at me. I was flustered. This went on for about a half hour. I just couldn't unlock the door.

My great-uncle had a brainstorm. He went down and got the ladder. He had remembered that the window in the bedroom had been left open. He put the ladder against the wall outside the bedroom and climbed up. He rose above the level of the windowsill. He put one leg over the sill and into the room.

I flipped the lock on the door as I looked at him with a big grin on my face. He nearly feel back out the window he was laughing so hard.

Needless to say, my mother was not amused. I may have gotten into a bit of trouble in my day.

Another Waste of Time

Here's something else I wasted my time on (I'm not bitter, really I'm not.)

Actually, they all liked this. Saint Nicholas' head and hands were made of plaster.

This is what he used to look like. All in white. I liked him this way but my mother wanted him in color so I redid him.
I'm going to make an angel for next year, which I keep for myself.

Stitching It Up

This is the quilt I made for my mother for Christmas. I designed it (it's a bird - I was told you can't tell.) I cut out all of the squares and triangles then sewed them together by hand. There are 357 two and a half inch squares (17 columns and 21 rows.) I would say there are about 80 hours into the quilt.

I love sewing by hand. I find it very relaxing.

I made this for my mother because I had sewn a quilt for my daughter made from my maternity clothes. We lived at my parents house at the time and my mother would cover herself up with the quilt at night when she was relaxing in her recliner. When we moved out, I took the blanket and my mother said she missed it.

So, I made the blanket. I sewed prayers into each stitch that her pain would ease everytime she put it on her lap. Each stitch was a wish that we could get along better, have more in common, be closer. When she opened her gift, she said, "Oh, you made me a quilt." They next day, she said, "There are a lot of tiny stitches." I was a bit underwhelmed.

My one and only, dear brother commented, "You must have a lot of time on your hands." (Which is also what he said when he looked at my website and when I told him I was taking a novel writing class at our county college.

My father and my sister-in-law said absolutely nothing.

It's a good thing I have loving and supportive family members.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Here's Bob!

This is Bob. At least, that's what I call him. And he just tickles the shit out of me. I'll click on this guy and just sit here watching him, giggling to myself all the while.

I call him Bob because he reminds me of the guy that gets my father in trouble all of the time. Bob talks my father into hanging out at the VFW all Saturday afternoon, causing my mother to call me to track him down. Bob buys my father one beer after another. Bob bought my dad so many beers at a wedding we went to, that my dad ended up in the wrong room at the end of the night.

Bob is just a little devil. The next time you find yourself doing something you normally wouldn't, I guarantee Bob is behind your debauchery.

Changed Settings

Thanks, Furyouhin, for pointing me in the right direction. As you can see, I added the title option. I am soooo proud of my computer prowess. Maybe I'll figure out how to add pictures and links soon.

And I fixed my sidebar issue - it was all the way down the page. Yipee.

And I changed my profile picture.

Silicon Valley needs to hire me.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

I'm bah-ack!

Hi Everyone:

I took some time off for the holidays.

Hope everyone has the best in 2006 and here's praying everyone receives what they truely need and not what they think they want.

This is the year of the Dog again, which is my year, so I'm hoping to accomplish great things.

I jusy got done reading Talyn by Holly Lisle. I'm exhausted. What a thrill ride. I don't normally read SF/fantasy, but this was worth it. I ran across Holly Lisle from the suggestion of a writing teacher who pointed out Ms. Lisle's website, which is packed full of information and articles for writers. She also shows her everyday life as a writer who supports herself and her family as a writer. She's quite prolific.
Her website is
Check it out.

Now, I have to catch up on everyone's blog's and doing my own planned daily contributions.

I'm also going to figure out how to use this program correctly, like, how to have an actual title and not just a line seperated from the rest of the text, putting the blogs I read along the right side of the page, add pictures and links, etc. If anyone wants to take pity on me and tell me where I can learn this stuff, I'd be eternally grateful.

Here's my wish for everyone in the New Year:

It is important to live as if we are always on the eve of a great discovery and prepare to welcome it as completely, intimately and ardently as we can.

- Maeterlinck

See you on your blogs. ; )