there should be things to say...

but I'm not sure yet if I can remember
conjure
imagine
create
divine
produce
any of them.

Let's see...
not with our eyes, though.
just with our hands and mouths.
yeah...
I should make a beautiful oil painting to be framed and hung above my bed--
4 feet wide
3 feet tall
in dark and deep shades of bright colors
with ornate lettering, declaring:
look with your hands not with your eyes.
maybe another, smaller sign:
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.
because really, that's life.
I'm no more complex than anyone else...
I just happen to be paying very
close
attention to the details.
push me just a little further,
in any of the myriad directions I am already stretching--
and you have Crazy.
that's my guess, at least.
I'm almost OCD,
almost anxious,
almost depressed,
almost manic,
almost multiple personality-ridden
almost...
but instead, I sit in the lotus position, balanced between them all.
they're further away than that, really.
but I can see them from here.
and I love the view.
I love typing with my eyes closed,
and dreaming in color.
I love cooking french toast, then getting back in bed to snuggle with a warm husband.










no school today.
and I'm more grateful than the kids have realized they should be.
school is a lot of work for a lazy/distracted/unused-to-routines little faux-princess like myself.
but shopping isn't...
my favorite department store is having it's semi-annual sale right now...
I like $100 dollar pairs of jeans for 30.
hubby got two pairs of Doc Martens for 30 each.
he needed them.
4 pairs of shoes for him total--
a man who usually wears one pair until it's thrashed.
we both love bargains, so it was fun.
about $1500 worth of clothes for just under $500.
and in just under 2 hours.
...makes me so horny.

I think today could be a day for a nature photography outing.
but probably not.
I'm WICKED lazy.

we're supposed to go out with friends tonight,
and to a house-warming party for some other friends tomorrow night.
we have no babysitters.
hubby has always been allergic to planning ahead,
and I believe the condition has been exacerbated by the increased levels of stress at work lately.
it's beginning to piss me off.
so, my new motto is: if he refuses to plan ahead, and there is no babysitter, I will go anyway.
ha!
that'll teach him.
or something.
His company is sending us to dinner to thank him for all his good work, so I guess I can't complain.
bastards.

I finished the baby blanket...
I'm such a hack seamstress.
but it's fun.

Welcome to the Twilight Zone...

or is that just an ingrown hair?


I wish I had something more to say.
but I don't.
so, here's my Half Nekkid Thursday photo--


I'm going to go to the gym before I lose my will.
Will? come back!!
oh...not that Will.

I have a feeling...

that I have limited time for peace and quiet.
the boys are tucked up with a new movie (Robots) for a "rest".
This whole getting up early business isn't easy on ANY of us!
apparently they've inherited my need to wake of my own free will.
poor little grouchy buggers.
they're so beautiful I can hardly stand to not cover them with kisses every minute, though.
falling in love with your children is way better than romance.
it's a cross between narcissism and some strange disease wherein you love something that sucks the life outta you.
heh.
another good one for ya:
My kids are my life.
Which explains my sporadic suicidal notions.
...at least I think I'm funny!!

Ok, my tasks for today are as follows:
* dye hair
* fix boys' ratty baby blankets so they don't accidentally get strangled in their sleep.
* scrub all 900 square feet of god damn ceramic tile in my house.
(not only is that not an exaggeration, but it's probably an underestimate)
* eat something healthy for lunch
* refrain from baking a dessert
* daydream about sexy bloggers x, Y, and Z...
* put in some good solid hours on my essay
* start best friend's baby blanket...for baby who is approaching 3 month birthday!!!
(I have bloody GREAT excuses, though: sewing machine was broken, couldn't find new part, finally found missing part just in time for school to start, and basement to be torn apart...ok, that last one doesn't really count because I could still sew somewhere else in the house...but cold weather's approaching and this blanket is going to be beautiful---if the frustrations of my wrong-sized squares of patchwork don't drive me to new heights of madness)

Guess why I don't make To-Do lists more often?
that's right.
cuz it's DAMN depressing to fail on such a grand level.

I just realized it's only 3 weeks until we head to southern Utah for the Shakespeare festival!
My first time since moving here.
Hopefully we'll be able to fit in a jaunt over to Zions for a hike, and LOTS of drinking.
I guess I should just acknowledge my age,
and start drinking EARLIER.
hangovers are way less severe if you're sober before bed.
And then, as soon as we can get it planned,
a girls' weekend to Zions for hiking and drinking.
...not intoxicated hiking, though.
especially on Angel's Landing.

Ok, I'm going to keep this short today so that I have more time to visit YOUR blogs.

Is it still Tuesday?

I'm pretty sure it is.
Everywhere within a certain range of time zones that it gives me a headache to contemplate, at least.

Huge thunderstorm for about 3 minutes here.
loud cracks of thunder, hail.


Happy Braless Tuesday--



this is the shirt that goes over the tank from a couple of weeks ago.
aren't you glad I split the pair?

Ok, I better post now--

before it's too late.
er, no.
just better to post now so I don't stress about it in the morning.
and yes, I do stress about it.
in the morning.
well, not every morning.
just on school mornings.

ok, whatever.
I am pretty sure that I have nothing more to write for today, anyway.

I had a great workout today, and am still scoping the tall, cut "woman" for an adam's apple.
I don't think he/she has one.
I still think it's a man, though.
I bought a new sports bra, and no, you're not getting pictures.
ok, maybe you are.

blurg.
it's so bizarre for me to look back over the months,
and see how much this fat ole thing has changed.
this blog...
I used to be much sillier, I know that's hard to imagine.
and much sexier--
at least I felt sexier.
I will not be fatty mcfatterton for much longer, though.
I refuse to accept the charges.
I plead not guilty.
I am not afraid to run away in the night and never see those pounds again.
I don't need them.
they need me...
but they are not welcome here any longer.
My will power is winning.
the more often it wins, the stronger it gets.
me and will, we're going to kick this weight's ass.
yup.
we shore are.
I would like to say that with a Maine accent, if you'll excuse me for a moment.
yeah...that felt good.
I love my roots.
not the ones on my head (what's up, skunk girl?)
nor the ones in my teeth (you can stick your "canal" in your anal cavity, aight?)
but the ones that are invisibly snaking down from my feet into the earth--
they have to be invisible because whoever heard of roots 3000 miles long?
not I.
I need to go to Moab.
I need to have days and days to myself.
entirely.
no kids, no husband, no friends--
no ties.
just me, drifting through a new set of experiences, a fresh serving of life.
no, I wouldn't like fries with that, smart ass.
I just want to be.
and I think the best way for me to settle and breathe and heal and grow--
the best way would be for me to be alone.
to have no expectations, no rules, no limits.
there are some things I was never meant to do.
but I do them.
I should do them more cheerfully.
cuz then I wouldn't hate them...

my back is fucking killing me.

our birds are really cute.
my husband is hilarious.
I am fucking tired.
have I mentioned lately how stupid and totally against nature it is to wake up to an alarm clock????
fuck this shit.

have a happy Tuesday, though.
and if I'm in a good mood, I'll snap ya some pictures later.
otherwise, fuck off.

The smell of wood stain is making me giddy...

so watch out!

Well, for a shitty Monday morning, I didn't do so bad.
got a little morning nookie--
extra hot due to the fact that hubby was on a conference call, with his phone on mute
he never has to participate in his monday morning calls, but still...
and then, after we got in the shower, he invited me to go to breakfast!
like we're childless or something--
it was awesome.
I felt all sneaky and special, going out to breakfast on a monday morning, freshly fucked.
and the breakfast I ordered happened to be the most delicious breakfast I've had in memory...
which is saying something, but not much.
snort.

and then I went to the store and almost didn't make it to pick up my kids...
I was THE last mom there, but only by a hair.

sometimes...
I get distracted by my inability to see a situation only on the surface;
by my curious ability to see the characters and action for what they really are.
I see the mechanics, the truth, the history--
not just people living life.
it's kind of annoying...
I'm my own Wizard, I guess.
welcome to Oz, please step behind the curtain...

I think I misspoke...
the fumes were not making me giddy, they were making me think I was giddy,
but in reality, I was growing snarly/growly/ornery...
oh well.
a good high's a good high, right?
heh.

I feel beautiful today, and I don't know why.
played the most ridiculous non-game of non-racquetball Saturday with the husb.
I am the most uncoordinated, slow-reflexed person on the planet.
I don't really hit like a girl, though.
ha!
the other night at the bar with Becky, we were playing pool with some truly scary indiviuals, but hey it was something to do.
and she made a bad shot (she's usually quite good at pool)
and said, "sorry, I hti like a girl."
just for sheer sassiness, I had to chime in with, "You fuck like one, too."
we thought it was pretty funny...
and what's really funny about us, is people usually think we're drunk even when we're not...
yeah, we're that annoying.

Ok, so today is sorta the deadline for deciding what to do my unit project on for the creative writing class...
those of you who have read my past homework assignments...
do you have any suggestions?
I can expand on any of the previous ones, or come up with something altogether new.
I just can't decide what to do.
it has to be interesting for 6-15 pages--
that's a lot for my attention span!!
so, any suggestions would be welcomed.
as would any sexual advances.

oh!
I get to have my miniature parrots today!
my friend breeds them, and she had a whole batch of eggs hatch a little bit ago.
they're ready to leave mama bird today, and I'm going to have 2 of them.
the kids are really excited.
I hope they don't smell too bad...
or fly away (ok, that wouldn't bother me so much).

I'm considering Franz Ferdinand tomorrow night.
At SaltAir...
mmm...I love that place.
gonna run it by the mr.

ok. time to put away some laundry and get dressed for Jim.
no fantasy today...
but I really do have one in mind.

happy monday to you--

Memes R Us

OKAY!!
on with the meme...

THREE RANDOM FACTS ABOUT MY CLOSET:
1. it is the first true walk-in closet I've ever had
2. it is in the north east corner of my bedroom
3. I usually leave the door open, despite the very real possibility of monsters

THREE ITEMS I'VE NEVER WORN, BUT STILL HAVEN'T TOSSED
1. nothing, I wear everything at least once, and get rid of things I don't use (even if I do end up regretting it half the time)

THREE ITEMS I'LL NEVER GET RID OF, NO MATTER HOW UGLY THEY GET
1. your mom. no, no, my Docs. I wore them every day for at least 12 hours, waitressing for 3 years. they are beyond thrashed.
2. my brownish suede jacket with fringe, direct from the 70s (well, not "direct", it was via a thrift shop)
3. my skinny pants. a perfectly faded pair of Levi's. I'll fit into those fuckers again if I have to pay for a tummy tuck with my own hard earned prostitution dollars.

THREE ITEMS PEOPLE WOULDN'T EXPECT TO FIND IN MY CLOSET:
1. belts. I never wear them
2. underwear. I never wear--oh, just kidding.
3. my special blankie from when I was a kid

THREE ITEMS THAT MADE ME GO, "OH LORD, WHAT WAS I THINKING?"
1. Um...can't think of any. I tend to get rid of lapses in judgment.


THREE THINGS THAT I HAVE A SURPRISING NUMBER OF:
1. skirts
2. sweaters
3. my husband's clothes (he has as many clothes as I do)

THREE DOMINANT COLORS IN MY WARDROBE:
1. black
2. blue
3. white

THREE ITEMS THAT NEVER FAIL TO PUT ME IN A GOOD MOOD WHENEVER I WEAR THEM:
1. my Ugg clogs--luxuriously comfortable, should be a requirement for living.
2. one of the shirts or skirts that I made for myself--nothing says "buck up lil camper" like wearing something that is flattering and will get compliments, to which the reply is "Thanks! I made it." woooot!
3. my Tommy Hilfiger white long sleeved shirt, with the white pin striping, and such details that make me nearly giggle with delight every time I slip into its classy simplicity. I would take a picture in it, but I'm sure something would be lost in the medium.

Fuck, that was painful.

I've been tagged...

and because I watched "My Name is Earl" the other night,
the image associated with being tagged is having an empty beer can thrown at me.
I think it's on NBC, and if you haven't watched it (it's new this season), please do me a favor and watch it.
no, not "do yourself a favor"--
fuck you, I'm the one who'll benefit from it.
(that makes no sense, but I'll ignore it if you will.)

Ok, so a fantastic new blog I found the other day has just tagged me for a meme thing.
the only reason I'm excited to do it, is because his was done so well.
And did I mention I checked his blog simply because he shares my son's name,
but he's hot so now I'm conflicted.
how am I supposed to fantasize properly about someone named "Max"???
I mean, hell, Jerry's hot little 20 year old is named Max and I haven't been able to conjure one decent father/son tag team scenario, and I blame the name.
it could also be the ickiness factor of a vision including a father and a son screwing the same nasty slut.
...which I'm not, so there ya have it.
damn, it's hard to keep my fantasies in order!!
I need a secretary or something.
(but only if she's bi-curious.)
--christ, I'm weird today.
I was going to do the Meme, but now I'm thinking I should just do the fantasy...
the one involving a bear and a bathroom.
just kidding!!!
(I'm protesting a little too much, aren't I...?)
wooo, I'm on a roll, but it doesn't strike me as a particularly fruitful one, so maybe I'll just write about some household crap for a minute.
clear my head, ya know?

I have a couple of pumpkin pies in the oven,
and a turkey set to roast as soon as I pull those out.
there will be mashed potatoes, gravy, cornbread stuffing, corn, carrots,
and cranberry sauce.
is your mouth watering yet?
mine is.
It's a gorgeously sunny, crisp fall day here.
The little guys and I will go hiking while the turkey roasts,
and then we'll eat before the men go off golfing.
It is a harvest feast--
Thanksgiving on my own terms.

ok, I just read back over the beginning and I hope it sounds as humorous to you all as it does to me
...if you take it seriously, I might be in trouble.
hell, if you took it seriously, you can make like a monkey and go fuck yourself.
also, I'm sure that my acid trip of a post has probably at the very least made the guy blush, and most likely scared the living hell out of him--
or into him, or over under around and through him.
I promise I'm only weird sometimes...

gonna post the meme later, since I don't want the nice folks from max's site reading this filth...I'd be the one blushing, then!

I'm seriously questioning my sanity over leaving this post up, but since when has that stopped me?

Whose underwear is that, and how did I end up with it?

Oh, why don’t I learn?
Hangovers blow.
But I seem to be getting used to them.
I remember it used to sort of disgruntle me—
In a shocked manner.
But I’m not surprised by them anymore, so they don’t bother me as much.
Yes, I do all the smart things, like drink a bunch of water, eat, take vitamins.
I have tried taking whatchamacalit headache crapola, but that shit never works for me, sober or stoned or anywhere in between.
But anyway.
I had a fun night, just me and Becky.
We thought there would be karaoke (or keriaki, as I called it at one possibly-inebriated moment)
But instead there was a band.
They did lots of classic rock and modern rock covers.
They were oldish, but hottish, so that worked out ok.
A bike club was there…
Yes…it made my heart race.
Yes, they were all oldish and NOT hottish, which is about right.
I’m wondering where my biker fetish came from, really.
Ok, ok, if you promise not to tell my husband, a couple of them were pretty damn handsome.
One of them even invited Becky to come over and screw everybody so that was a compliment
Heh.
I also made the mistake of saying that Harleys are my heroin,
When I really meant to say they are aphrodisiacal.
Dude misunderstood me… “You have heroin?”
He sounded a little hopeful, if you ask me.
But what do I know?
So there was some idiot who thought becky was lying about having had surgery recently in order to not dance with him.
Well, she wasn’t lying about the surgery but she just didn’t want to dance with him.
There was a girl there who could move like one of P Diddy’s backup girls,
And a guy who used to be a stripper at a club—
Still does private engagements, wink-wink.
No, we didn’t get his card.
Damn.
There was also, I believe, some guy with a camera phone with cock shots he was showing around, but sadly I missed out.
And something led me to come up with my newest euphemism:
Aw, go fuck a bear in a bathroom.
Don’t ask me why it’s funny to me, but it is.
There were lots of good songs, not too much drunkenness,
and lots of time spent outdoors on the patio so there was less of a “I’ve been smoking all night” feeing about my hangover.
Er.
So maybe that’s why it’s better than usual…
Not that stuff I said before about something or something else and stuff.

Ok, I’m going to go (attempt to) have a peaceful afternoon,
and attempt to get started on my 6-15 page end of unit essay
and attempt to….nothing else, just sorta liked being on a roll.
Also, I get to go on a date with my faucking (that was a typo, but I LIKE it) handsome, wonderful husband tonight.
He better shmooz me.
If he wants to get laid that is.
Heh.
Yes, that was a joke.
He will very gladly pound the hangover straight out of me and into next Tuesday sometime.
I think I’ll post a fantasy soon.
I thought of one.

Couple of quick clarifications:

My blog will be 3 years old in December,
so I'm not quite there yet.
Thanks for all your congratulatory remarks, though!!
...love you guys so much it makes my ass itch.

And secondly, the dessert issue.
I was trying to say it should always be kept out of reach by an outside force, i.e. budget.
This is really just my weak attempt at having no ownership of my own vast lack of self-control.

the end.

well, not quite the end, because I have cookies in the oven as I type this...
It's really a curse to be such a good cook.
I know some of you can relate...
Trainer dude kicked my ass an' good today, though.
It's going to be great vaudvillian comedy to try to watch me get out of bed in the morning.
Abs of squeal steel.
What?
There's steel under there...
somewhere.

One more thing:
on top of all the school work and house cleaning/laundry/housewifely duties of a private nature (snort! what's private about ME???),
I now have to fight my kids for computer time.
I am SO divorcing my husband if he doesn't get their computers fixed soon.
by fixed up I mean "to work fast enough that their minute portions of patience can handle playing games on them."
thank you.
good night.

oh!
one more thing...
it looks, at this particular moment, as though the stars may have aligned properly to allow me an evening out.
and not just with the darling husband,
but with Becky and her (ex)husband, too.
wish me luck--
mostly with the hangover, since I have a raquetball court reserved for noon...

****UPDATE****

I literally just let out a squeal of delight, scaring my kids.
I got an email from my professor, and I am jumping for joy...
since I already talked to my Mom today, I'm sharing it with you guys:

"Oh, man, Lisa, Lisa. You’re such a damn good writer, you must be getting tired of me telling you so. Here’s the moment this week: The rope Dickie had thrown to tie up to their skiff fell short. Reaching for it, he slipped, and fell in. The Atlantic is entirely unforgiving in any season, and March is no closer to spring than a snowplow’s blade. The water shocked him, and he floundered—like most fishermen in the northeast, he didn’t know how to swim. His father, too, was among those fishermen, but on instinct plunged in after him.

Amazing, what follows is just as good. Maybe better. The real difficulty for any writer is finding the balance of telling and showing. You just seem to go and the balance finds itself, if that’s possible. I think it’s your precision of language, or maybe it’s your ease at the keyboard (thanks for allowing me into that space in your writing piece), but I know you’re able to both show and tell at once, and this is the key. You’re never boring. Your scene is brilliant. The ending is moving. Lisa, go, girl, go."

for the rest of the piece he's quoting, go here.
that URL cracks me up...
I created that blog probably 2 years ago, or so, just as a spot to post creative stuff, and I've mostly used it to set up direct links to the Fantasy Friday posts, because what I lack in html knowledge I have in yankee ingenuity, dammit!
hell, as far as that goes, what I have in html knowlege I owe to yankee ingenuity, anyway!
ok, that fucking MADE my weekend.
now I better get a fucking move on if I'm going to have my 6-15 page Unit project done on time, and in a similarly professor-wowing manner!!
uh...thanks for being the ones I done learnt on, guys.
kisses--

I've never been much of a joiner...

Pair that with the fact that I'm chronically late,
and you get my version of "Half Nekkid Thursday."
yup, on Friday.
and I may nor may not ever do it again.
don't know, don't care at this point.

I'm fairly distracted by my worry over the god damn huricaine.
and I'm pretty sure this means that Armageddon is upon us,
in which case I'm entirely fucked, and will have to stumble into the nearest mormon church and throw myself at their mercy.
or something like that.
actually, I think I'll start my own church.
I mean, if I can be receiving divine revelation about stuff like which words to use in mundane sentences...?
puh-leeez.
I'm totally god's favorite.
and why shouldn't I be?
that guy rocks.

ok, so here's me, half nekkid, or as Jerry tried to call it, "half dressed"
(cuz he's such a damn pessimist!)
this is from my trip to Bear Lake a couple of weeks ago,
so I'm in my swim suit, out on the boat.



yes, I wish I had less of the boat obstructing the view, too.
fuck, time to pick up kids!!!
happy day to y'all--

Ok, two burning thoughts

actually maybe 3, but let me get into it before I forget something.
first of all, I am approaching my 3 year anniversary of writing on this blog.
this got me to thinking that we should count blog years like dog years.
It's a pretty crazy thing to have been doing this nearly every day for 3 years.
I don't know what the statistics are, but I do know that the majority of blogs don't last very long.
so, I'm thinking, for each day you posted, it should count as 4 1/2 months.
so, number of days times 4.5 = your age in blog years.
and yes, I'm full of shit.
but really, something to think about.
seriously.
stop right now and ponder it.
mull it.
chew on it.
consider it.
blah blah.

ok, my other thought was this:
(it's a little weird, but stay with me)
one of the biggest reasons I eat too much dessert is this:
because I can.
period.
when I was growing up, there were rations.
mom made a (fucking mouth watering) apple pie?
the 4 of us each got two pieces.
done.
mom bought a box of ice cream sandwiches?
we each got 3.
and because you knew that she only shopped once a week, you didn't tend to go overboard.
unless it was cream chesse filled chocolate cupcakes...
my sister and I would gigglingly egg each other on, to 3 or 4 in a sitting.
seemed like a disgustingly large amount at the time.
Now?
I do the shopping.
I do the baking.
(did some at home too, obviously, but we still divied it up)
so.
therefore, I am in complete control of what kinds of dessert we have, and how much of it I can eat.
up until recently, the kids weren't even allowed to have real dessert, and my husband is only marginally interested, and besides, he's not around most of the time.
so it's like...
free for all!!
I scramble to eat it all, figuratively looking over my shoulder to see if my mom's watching.
she's not.
un fortunately.
christ that took a long time!!!
the point is:
the cost of dessert items should be directly proportional to your income.
there should be a formula, and whatever category you fit, you have to pay a certain price.
oooh!!!!
like that game...
shit, what was it?
PayDay!
(I think)
a board game.
just like that.
fuck, I'm making no sense.
I should cut my losses.

ok, I had one more...
but what the fuck was it??
I think it might have been the most coherant/interesting one of all.
then again, maybe not.

well, Thursdays are busy days, and this one's even worse.
I'll look up your skirts stop by your blogs as soon as possible.
I hate it when I don't have time to read....
my inbox is piling up, too.
arrgh!!!
whose idea was this school thing anyway???

I'd like to teach the world to sing,

buuuut...
I can't sing, so it wouldn't really get very far.
it's the thought that counts, though.
right?
RIGHT, fuckers!

ok.
so today I had one of those moments...
where you think of doing something, and don't, then wish you would have.
nothing major, just a missed scenic photo op.
the clouds are incredible today, with some orange spots on the mountains, and bright blues skies...
but why the FUCK would I take my camera to the doctor's office (which I didn't get around to yesterday) and the grocery store???
I mean, granted, there are sometimes some SWEET mullets kicking around Wally World,
or, like today, some hotties in the waiting room at the VD clinic doctor's office.
however.
I wouldn't usually quite have the balls to whip it out (the camera!!) and go for it.
er.
what huh?
where was I?
anyway.
I had to get blood drawn so they could test my god damn thyroid levels.
again.
I hate that shit.
I don't mind needles, it's just an inconvenience, and lord save me from being slightly annoyed!
speaky of divas...
anyone caught Martha Stewart's new show?
I would have to say I'll probably like it, once the shock wears off.
the intro alone is enough to make my head explode from sheer failed-atempts at wrapping around it...
it's so perky and cute and--
it's like the Martha anti-christ.
but we'll see.

in other news...
er.
crap.
I don't have any other news.
well, I could probably manufacture some.
oh!!!
that reminds me!!
a while back, Sara and I were having a comments-box discusion about weird little OCD things.
well.
I knew I had a good one, but I couldn't think of it.
"good" = crazy, fyi.
here it is:
when I'm talking, even to myself (in my head, never do it aloud)...
I.
choose words based on a need to form a certain group of letters with my mouth.
yeah, I know...
I wonder if anyone else ever does this!
it's really strange.
I don't always follow the instructions of my uptight inner voice,
but usually there is a good word to go in the sentence that fits the requirements...
and often it's a better word-choice than the most obvious.
so it actually makes me wonder if it's just some sort of premonition thing.
I'm soooooooooo trying to get committed!!
just think how cool that would be:
I wouldn't have to cook or clean...
I could read and write.
all.
day.

ok, this is going nowhere fast.
have a good day and give a good day.
(that last one is compliments of my high school principal, and you long-time readers would probably remember that...)

You guys are so predictable...

or...
is it ME who is predictable???
these shots all look the same.
I promise I'll work on something a little different soon.
something with a twist...
Braless Tuesday with a twist...
hm...
like...
me with a bra on--
MY HEAD.
yeah.
so there.
bite me.
I'm going to go get blood drawn and pick my luscious children up from school.
please don't forget to wipe the drool from your chin/pants before stepping away from your desk.
your boss already thinks you're a dipshit.
(hee heee!!)

Oh, I think I did well on my test.
60 questions, and there were only 5 or 6 I was unsure of...
I'll let you know when I hear.

Today is (not) the greatest day I've ever known--

but it is a pretty fantastic sort of day, meteorologically speaking.
the air is warm and cool at the same time; crisp and comfortable.
there is a breeze in the stillness, and the sun's rays feel soft.
it's a day that would be sinful to waste indoors.
a day that was crafted purely for walking--sauntering, as Thoreau described it.
a day in which everything feels possible.

hell, they're tiling my upstairs bathrooms today,
of COURSE it's a good day!!
the morons who built this place only put tile in the toilet areas, leaving carpet in the restof the bathrooms.
I guess they didn't have kids like mine.
my kids like to flood bathrooms, as you may recall.
I'm just glad they haven't flooded a toilet (yet) at this house.

wow.
I just caught myself berating a Winnie the Pooh show for an unrealistic depiction of Tigger's & Piglet's escape from an avalanche...

finding that an old friend is putting his words back into this cauldron on a daily basis is just...
is just...
marvelous.
it makes me grin foolishly, but mostly from the deepest parts inside of me, like my elbows and my ribcage.

and now, it is off to make grilled cheese sandwiches for the two most handsome little men I've ever loved...
and to finish my gaw damn homework.

a quick good morning

I'm really quite disgruntled that I have to GET UP in the mornings, nowadays.
what a strange and silly custom.
to start things that are important, like school or work, at such ridiculously early hours.
I mean, shit.
8 a.m....that's still yesterday, I don't care what your silly rules say.

the hangover wasn't bad, and you should all be assured I was not driving impaired.
the most I ever felt at the party was a buzz,
and I stopped drinking a couple of hours (or more) before driving.
I read yesterday's post and realized I probably sounded terribly irresponsible--
and it made me uncomfortable.
I try not to be judgmental, in general, but that's something that is big to me.
as in, some rules are actually NOT made to be broken.
as in, I respect others too much to take that kind of chance.
so, yeah.
just to clear the air.

I really feel like writing a long post right now,
but I think it's just the Grand Procrastinator whispering in my ear...
tickling my toes...
but I refuse his advances.
I have a new beau, now, G.P.
I don't need your cheap thrills and instant gratification anymore.
I have facts to memorize and papers to submit.
and I shall do so.

too much to do.
more later.

in the meantime, check this out, for a little Monday-morning-pick-me-up.

This is your audio post...

and THIS is your audio post on paper.
uum.
yeah.
this is a drunken post, I'm guessing.
only that would be admitting that I still feel a bit of a buzz.
and I just drove home.
but I was cool, trust me.
I don't take that kind of chance.
anywho.
I was debating whether or not to call in a post,
but then "red, red wine" came on and I went for it.
couldn't dial properly since the lights on my keys kept going off.
then!!
as soon as I started the post,
a copper merged onto the freeway riiiight ahead of me.
so I hung up.
turns out, it was a fucking SECURITY car.
urg.
but the evening was amazing.
I am still glowing,
but the regret is creeping in--
I talked to much and listened too little.
I was the star of the show...
and it felt warm and sparkly on my skin.
my hair looked perfect,
whcih was a concern, since one of the dinner guests was a hairdresser.
and absolutely fucking fabulous.
not flamboyant, but great.
and.
he used to ride the bus with my Perry.
my boy...
I said, "he was 16 and I was 21"
he said, "yeah, I understand, I wanted to fuck him, too."
it felt really connected...
to meet someone who knew him, probably around the time that I knew him...
my green eyed boy.
siiigh.
and there was a Persian woman who earned her way off my "you're too pretty to like" list before long.

but then I walked into my kitchen and there are two men arguing philosophy.
yes, my husband and his brother.
brother is majoring in philosophy, as a precursor to law school.
it's funny...
they both argue the same way...
I can't explain it without making them sound stupid,
and they're not.
they're at least as smart as I am, smarter in some ways.
and that's huge for me to admit.
heh.
hello Lisa's ego, how're you?
fine, fine.
we had a good night.
yes, much ego stroking.
and a silly game of truth or dare.
oh, and wine.
and that other stuff.
with the lighter and the garage.

they're loud.
let's decide on the definition of "culmination" first, shall we?
christ, I'm going to have a headache.
I think it should be totally legal to make out with gay boys if you're a married woman.
I would.
they were cute.
these two are pissing me off, though.
they're quite funny, but like...
shut the fuck up already.

did I already mention the fact that i'm going to be hungover?
yeah.
it's going to be ugly.

i think my headache will have two sources.
hee.
happy 2:30 am Sunday, to you.

that's when I knew she was pretending--

pretending to under-staaaaaaaaand.

stupid bitch.

heh.

I am sorry I've been dragging you guys all along on my "i'm starting college again after ten years" journey...
it's all I can talk about some days.
how very boring.
so I won't dwell on the fact that I'm studying for a test today...
and I wont' try to sound casual by calling it "a test"...
it's the first exam I have taken in 9 years!!!!
and I'm beginning to wonder why I thought it would be important to memorize a bunch of facts about the birth of Rock n Roll...
I'm going to be a nervous wreck until Tuesday morning.
after which I'll either be relieved and joyful,
or releived and suicidal.
eh, either way.
as long as I feel SOMEthing, right?

I'm overbooked this weekend.
party tonight,
hike with best friend tomorrow afternoon,
and family dinner tomorrow evening.
er.
crap.
I suspect I'll do better on the test if I not only finish typing up my notes into flashcard format, but STUDY them, as well.
shit piss fuck.
eh, I'll make it.
I just wish I hadn't been sick last week.
that's my excuse THIS time.
I wonder what it'll be next time...

I hope you're all having lovely weekends.
Me and the Indigo girls, Godsmack & Pearl Jam are going to put in a little more time on my study notes.
then it's time to dress for dinner, hit the liquor store and--
PARTY.
I'm nervous and excited.
lots of people I don't know will be there.
My husband decided he wants to come now, too, which would be AWESOME,
except for the fact that his indecision has caused the lack of babysitter and the incredible rudeness of calling the host to add another guest at the last minute.
in other words: not gonna happen.

bon nuit, mes amours--

I should not be posting

I should be writing a little paper,
Making study notes,
Taking a shower,
Grocery shopping,
Or folding laundry.
Bah.
It can wait.
Well, all but the groceries—
Ain’t no FUCKIN way I’m taking the kids again.
Ever.
Until they’re at least 23.
…or the next time I need something and there’s no other alternative.
And no, it’s not that they act soooo bad,
It’s that taking them is exhausting and frustrating and I’d rather not mar my day with such a thing.

So yesterday it happened:
We missed the bus.
Oh, I probably could have waved him down.
But.
I didn’t.
He was 7 minutes early.
SEVEN.
And the way our house is situated, there is no view from the main floor,
No way to know if he’s here.
This morning, when we were finishing getting ready,
I opened the front door just a smidge (yes that’s a technical term) so that I would at least hear the damn beast.
Stupid quiet beast.
It realllllly pissed me off, though.
We were READY I just wouldn’t let them go out yet, cuz it was “too early” and kind of chilly…
Yeah, I pretty much fucking suck.
(if you say that fast, “fuckin suck” it sounds like “fuck and suck,” so there’s no arguing there!)
oh well.
It could be MUCH worse, and I know it.
I really don’t know how families handle it when both parents work.
(Ok, I just sneezed and I’ve been pointedly ignoring the snot factor, but I better get a tissue…)

I got a thousand hours of sleep last night, so I’m pretty sure I’ll be kicking this ANNOYING fucking cold soon.
And that’s all it is: annoying.
It doesn’t keep me from doing things I have to do,
It just keeps me from wanting to do anything I have a choice about.

I can feel the part of our world that is unseen, stirring around me.
The forces of change, and acceptance.
The forces of growth, and joy.
They are brushing against me, some like velvet, some like sandpaper.
I am ready for them.
Sometimes I wonder if they are ready for me…

I need to buy some CDs today.
All this fabulous Motown and Soul I’ve been listening to in class,
Reminding me I’m a fool for not having Aretha, Otis, Ray, and the The’s (temptations, supremes, 4 tops…)

Here’s a section I cut out of my last assignment for school:
(it was the walking/writing one)

I hear the air rushing through a large tree as I sit here in the shade and its solitude reminds me that the sound is all wrong. If I half-close my eyes, I can see the view from my parents’ front windows.  Trees, trees, and…trees.  A short walk brings me to the edge of the river—a tidal river, one of the many relentless fingers clawing into the state of Maine.  The ocean and the land seem to be fighting for control.  The tide coming in—score one for the sea; the tide going out—a point for the rocks.  

Ok, time to hit the showers.
Have a fantastic weekend.

don't ask.

I'm just getting home from a fun night,
but it's late.
and i had to walk through byu campus...
my throat pushed the word, "fuck" to the back of my tongue,
it slid to the very tip and I caught it,
swallowed it back down.
but I felt the ghost of it still in my mouth.
the shout of it.
it was a beautiful night.
many students leaving the library
got to wonder what the woman with a diamond(ish) stud in her nose and a
fiiiine
rack was doing on their pristine campus.
I hope I gave at least one of them a reason to wish they were allowed to beat off.
poor repressed boys...
I should have sent my thoughts to them,
wished them the freedom to be happy.
ah well, whatcha gonna do.
I wondered, too, what would happen if I had let that word rip from my mouth,
let the word bellow from my lungs.
would it have echoed through campus,
startling and shaking-to-the-core?
would it have been silenced, mid-air, and slapped back against my skin--
hot and angry,
or cold and bitter.
I think...
or would hope,
at least,
that it would float across the air, and slither between the straps of backpacks,
and up pantlegs,
tickling some part of those good kids,
making them smile,
reminding them that they don't have to do everything right all of the time.
that it's ok to live.

well.
that's whatcha get when I go to my old college late at night.

Saturday night.
I get to go to a dinner party with my favorite lesbian couple--
and their favorite gay couple!!!!
my husband is a total homophobe, so he's not going.
I told him that just means he's gay, but he doesn't believe it.
(neither does my pussy.)
anyway, I am somewhere in the realm of pulsating warm light of joy, beyond the limits of pure anticipation.
I can just tell.

hope you have a marvelous day.
if I'm not still sick tomorrow...
MAKE ME go to the god damned gym.
I'm serious.
I can actually hear myself getting fatter.
(it's true!)

kisses from your ear to your collarbone--

How come everything’s a Pink Floyd song this week??

Well, maybe it’s not.
But it should be.
And I need to change the template on my haloscan if I want the gravatars to show up,
But I don’t wanna.
And I should change the template on my Drawing Board blog so the stuff I post from here will show up right.
But I don’t wanna.
And I should start studying for my first exam in History of Rock n Roll,
Which is next Tuesday….
But.
I don’t wanna.

My cold is receding,
But…
I still don’t feel great.
Hm.
Who said I have to feel great in order to study or write papers?oh, that’s right:
NO ONE.
Yes, I’ll quit being such a pussy pretty soon.
You have to understand…
In high school, I think I missed a total of 3 or 4 days.
The entire 4 years.
When I was a member of the workforce,
I didn’t call in sick.
AND I worked for 80 hours a week during much of that time—
As a waitress.
I didn’t whine about THAT.
I wore it as a badge of honor.
Now…
It’s like I’ve gone all soft,
I’ve been spoiled,.
and it’s just no good.
Bleh.

Also, this whole “Kindergarten for 3 hours” business is really starting to piss me off.
I can’t do SQUAT in that time!
Why?
Because by the time I do hubby, cook his breakfast, and shower—
There’s only an hour left til I pick up the kiddlets.
And, of course, I have to BLOG.
I’m tired.
And sneezy.
And stuffy.
And puffy.
But I need to go to the store.
And I have bunko tonight.
What the FUCK?
Microsoft fucking god damn Word recognizes “bunko” as a real word?jesus fucking Christ.
I’m going to lose my mind.
I should turn that shit off--
I know, I know.
But I like it.
Anyway, I’m glad that my insistence that I never used to be a whiner didn’t do a damn thing to derail my insistent need to continue whining.
Yay for whining!

Someone shoot me.
well…not with a gun or anything.
Not even a water gun, cuz that would make me ornery.
Just make a gun with your hand and point it at me, while making a sound effect of some gun-like variety.
I don’t know!!!!
I’m just saying, something needs to stop me from whining so!!!

I guess I could lay on the couch and watch—
Well, fuck.
Regis is over and the view hasn’t started,
Which means, that here in the fucked up stupid ass state of Utah,
There is “Good Day Utah” for my viewing pleasure.
It’s the worst television show I’ve ever seen.
Including “who wants to marry a millionaire?”
(which reminds me of the sketch SNL did around that time “who wants to get groped by a ten-thousandaire?”)
and no, ABC isn’t the only channel I get…
I have plenty of channels, it’s just that I really kind of enjoy those two shows,
And I NEVER
EVER
Watch them.
Unless I’m at the gym.
The gym is my excuse for watching soaps, too.
They’re so ridiculous.
But they pass the time, and they’re so easy to follow—
Since they state everybody’s relationship, name, rank and serial number every time a scene opens.
Practically.

Fuck me.
And now I’m down to just under 30 minutes til blast off,
So I better at least ATTEMPT to do some homework.

If only whine could be turned to wine, or water…
Sorry for the lameness.
Scroll down if you don’t like it.

Well, I'm wearing a bra today, but I suppose...

Just to keep you chumps pacified...
(and yes, I just realized that'll make you even more relentless in your visions of sucking upon the ole fun bags. oh well.)

Tuesdays are for Twits

Stayed up til 2 this morning.
Finishing that paper that was due at midnight…
The professor ok’ed it, though.
Stupid paper still sucked.
It was sooo different from the first two assignments…
I feel like I let him down.
But really it was myself.
Whatever.
I’ll live.
At least I can recognize my own faults, right?
But on the upside, I allowed (read: begged, pleaded) my husband to read it and offer some editing advice.
It went really well.
Mostly because I hated what was there, but was too tired to see it clearly enough to restructure it.
So he offered a bunch of changes, and I held firm on a few, but did the rest his way.
I’m just so bummed that I didn’t come up with something better.
There were some lines in it that I loved.
But the overall flow of it just wasn’t there.
The assignment had been to take a notebook on a walk, and write while walking and pondering a question or issue.
Blurg.
Oh well.
At least I made a great first impression, and have more chances to dazzle, right?

So.
My cold has taken a detour—
From throat to nasal cavities.
Sweeeeet.
So now I can talk (mostly),
But I drip and sniff like some damn coke whore eating jalapenos.
Or someone with a cold…

But never fear!!!!
Today has not been all bad!
First…
I took the boys to Taco Time for lunch.
And there was a whole table of hot construction workers.
Yum.
THEN.
I came home, and a little red audi TT zinged up to the curb and I was greeted once again by a drool-worthy man.
Here to measure my basement for carpet.
Sadly only took a few minutes, and I stayed out of his way.
Yum.
Did I say that already?
Well.
I guess I just have a deep and profound appreciate for the male form.
Renders me speechless, yo.

Also, I had a revelation while I was thrashing out to metallica, in the parking lot of the kids’ school.
My appreciation for fast cars is poetic, not scientific.
Dammit, I had it worded better when it came to me.
Stupid brain, fucking things up again.
They get delivered in pristine condition, lovely flowing words, coherent, cohesive, and cohabitating—
Cohabitating with my OWN choppy thoughts, in my easily-shaken brain.
Anywho.
I love fast cars.
But I realized that my appreciation for them is from a poet’s view, not a mechanic’s.
Nuttin wrong with that.
I love the way they move, the way they feel—
The way they make me feel.
I love the smell of the gas, the sound of the purring (or growling) engine…
I love the way gravity presses me back into my seat as my foot presses down.
(and now I’ve spent twenty minutes in a futile search for whether or not that is the proper physics explanation for the force pushing you back during forward motion.  I’m pretty sure it’s not gravity, cuz that’s up and down. The only other thing I could think of was torque, but all I can find on that is how it is used as a rating system for engines. Faaaack. There’s no fucking way I’m taking Physics again.  So, if you know the answer to this query, I would appreciate it. I would NOT, however, appreciate any flippancy or arrogance in your deliverance. If so?  No boobs for you!!)

ok, time to play UNO.
Ugh-gain.

Happy Tuesday.
Yes, I”ll post a photo in a few.

(Un) comfortably Numb…

Yeah.
That’s right.
Just another day at the dentist.
All I could think of was that story I wrote last year…
In honor of my 666th post.
I’m thinking, with a little work, it could be a real story.
But I DIGRESS.
I have put my finger on the two things I hate about having cavities filled,
And therefore shall make damn sure to not face it again in future.

1. the increased heart rate, following my numbing shots—

(totally freaks me out, WTF??)

1. the inability to swallow during the drilling and filling

(hey, that sounds like porn…)
So, yeah.
I recovered from my heart palpitations, only to fight off drowning for the next hour!
Jesus h.
I can almost feel my throat again.

I think crazy carpenter dude got the hint.
He seems to be avoiding us…
I wonder if he found my blog?
Nah.
Or overheard something…?
Well, whatever.
Why did I think the finish work would be so quick?
They’re still doing cabinetry and lighting…
We haven’t even been SHOWN carpet samples yet!
Erg.

Well, I’ve successfully tucked the kids up with a movie,
In the hopes that I could finish up my homework
(due by midnight!)
so…I better get hoppin’.

Happy grey Monday to y’all!
(well, it’s grey here.)



    

Pizza gives me heartburn--before it comes!

I order pizza to cut down on stress.
That’s the whole FUCKING point.
To eliminate the decision making, mess making, blah fucking blah.
I’m beginning to realize it doesn’t always work that way.
At least half the time I call, it adds stress to my day.
“this is the wrong location for you—CLICK”.
Uh….
Thanks for tell me AFTER I god damn order, you frigging jackass.
And why do the cute ones always work IN the store?
They do NOT send hotties to deliver here.
We might have friggin sexy construction workers
(everywhere but MY HOUSE, that is…)
but the pizza delivery folk are usually not porn star material..
um.
Did I just say that out loud?
Oopsy.
Or the other common pizza-ordering issue is:
(let’s get this train back on the tracks, eh?)
We get disconnected during the order.
But at least they called back and blamed it on me.
Shit lickers.
No, there wasn’t more than one person on the phone.
Yes, he should have been impressed with my sexy voice.
Given me free shit.
An’ shit.
Wasn’t.
Didn’t.

And.
a-fucking-pparently,
my kids think that whining with hunger will actually affect how long it takes the pizza to get here.

Am I having a bad day, or is it just you?
I mean, are you having a bad day or is it just me?
Eh, whatever.
Well.
Fuck.
Shit piss crackwhore damn.
My throat still hurts.
Did you know it’s hard to yell at kids when you have a thore throat.
Yes, I spelled that wrong on purpose.

Fucking unfuckable pizzamen who don’t make my life easier.

Drive-by Blogging...

and at the end there, the point I was trying to make was this:
men are babies when they're sick.
mine's not tooooo bad, but still.
guess why I was at wally world at 9 on a friday night (practically in my pjs)?
he needed alka seltzer plus.
s'ok.
he deserves it.

OH!
and remind me to do Jerry('s meme) the next time I post.
I answered it in his comments, but I actually want to pass this one on--
it's easy and fun.
(just like Darby!)
...private jokes are not very funny when the only other person who "gets" it isn't around.
in fact, they're rather rude, in that instance.
but that's just me.
rude.
crude.
and socially unacceptable.
ha!!!!
do I sound like an 80's cliche yet?
if not, I'll keep trying...
weekend.
no getting up to an alarm!!!
first time in 4 days!
I know, it's a rough life.
I'll try to get by...
sleep well my beautiful liars, my precious whores.
heh.
that doesn't really fit here, but we all love NIN, so deal with it.

Let me try this again...

I posted a long ranting piece, below, but I'd rather leave you with something better for the weekend.

so, here are my notes from class yesterday.
well.
not my notes 'from' class.
just...
the things which occurred to me while I listened...

* The way that you view a person changes your view of them.
The things you imagine about them, the judgments you make of them, color the picture of them, and distort it.

* I am almost settled into my new routine, now.
The changes in my life are beginning to not startle me.

* At first all new bands appear to be small pebbles on the shore, washed over by waves, but time will reveal which ones were boulders buried deeply.

and that's all I have today.
I hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate
the construction dude.
he's crazy and annoying.

my throat is killing me.
I am glad my trainer cancelled on me today.
and.
I need a shower.
and to escape the hideous non-conversation with this guy!!!
go.
away.
you know I'm working on writing something.
please don't talk to me.
ok, coast is clear.
I'm going to shower.
and if I decide to keep procrastinating my assignment,
you'll get another post later.
maybe something chipper.
maybe something Daler.
heh.
if not, have a great weekend.

Well I mean reallllly--

You guys are a bunch of perverts.
Wait…this font only does caps.
How about this one?
Now that’s annoying…
Ok, this one could work.
I’ll have to post it and check…

Oh yeah, back to my stinging accusation:
Damn horndogs!
I shan’t discuss it further.
You know who you are.
And let it be known that I have been horny enough to cross that boundary,
but only a very few times.
We have enough sex the rest of the time.

Woo hoo!
Phone just rang.
An apologetic trainer started to say he couldn’t make it today.
He got an ear full of, “Wooo-Hooo!”
Hey, I have a cold—
Sore throat, mostly.
But I also haven’t started my homework for Monday yet,
and now would be the perfect time to do that.
And speaking of perfection…
Bagel with strawberry cream cheese (fat free, even!)
And freshly cut watermelon, straight from the garden (someone else’s).
AND my toaster even has a “bagel” setting, which means it’s not toasted, it’s just warm…
So utterly fabulous.
And now I’m wishing I could type with one hand.
I’m sure y’all can relate to that! (perverts)

(WARNING: Rant to follow)

So I’m having this stupid discussion for my creative writing class…
The prof asked us to talk about what offends us, especially with regards to art,
And what our feelings are on censorship: whether there is ever a time for it, etc.
This was something I jumped on, and posted the first response to it.
So a few other people posted, blah blah blah.
And then this brain dead girl posted the most poorly constructed rant I’ve seen in a long time—
Talking about how people should censor themselves all the time and directly refuting something I had said, about truth in art, as well as contradicting herself a few times.
She said something RETARDED about truth having no place in the telling of a story.
Um, ok, cunt.
So, of course I had to pose a response to that garbage.
Stating that we should never censor our creativity, because our society does a pretty good job of filtering what gets to the public as it is, and that truth is a necessity for good art of any medium, because that is what the viewer/reader/listener relates to.
Her response was hilarious, as well.
She opened with an enormous run-on sentence,
Asking if I thought she should still refrain from censoring herself if it was her artistic bent to skin the little boy down the street and make a lampshade out of it.
Followed by asking if she wanted to write a book on how to molest a child should she do that, too?
UM.
OK, dumbass.
(I’m sorry, is that stuff art or a felony???)
And then she finished up by saying “”Truth” and the reality of life is harsh enough that books and art do not need to reverberate that level of pain. ”
This was too good to pass up—
Too easy.
So I responded—
A little too emotionally, perhaps, but well written.
My hands were shaking when I finished typing it.
Just basically saying that skinning a child is not art, and that just because life is hard doesn’t mean we don’t express that!!!  
I included: some of the best writing I’ve encountered deals with the horrors of the human condition. “Night”, by Elie Weisel tells of his own experiences in the concentration camps and is a perfect example of this.
We learn from these things and find strength in them, not to mention the amazing emotional healing that comes from writing about your pain!!!
God, she’s a moron.
And, let’s don’t forget: Lisa HATES confrontation.
I shy away from it whenever possible.
Hell, just now?
The contractors walked through—boss man came to figure out some shit that has hit the fan.
He asked about an incorrect light fixture.
We chose ALL brushed nickel stuff for the bathroom fixtures, but this vanity light was chrome.
NUH-uh.
But I still told him that if he couldn’t find the one we were talking about, that it wasn’t a big deal.
Fuck that.
It is TOO a big deal.
Good thing he’s walking out with it right now.
He’s a good guy.
It’ll be fine.
I just hate being impolite about it.
Firm, but accepting, that’s me.
I’ll tell ya what I want, but I’ll gently remind you that it’s ok if you fail….
I’m such a weiny.

I know I say this at least twice a month,
But…
I think this may be the worst post ever.
I’m not feeling it.
Are you??

Anyway, I really fucking hate confrontation.
And I would have been better off to just let it lie.
I just can’t stand blatant stupidity—
Especially when people think they’re RIGHT.
No, fuckface, you’re NOT right.
Sure, art can go too far.
But that doesn’t mean that the artists should censor themselves.
My burning question through all of this has been:
If a tree falls in the forest and no one’s around to hear it, does it make a noise?
In other words…make all the offensive shit you want.
Just don’t expect others to call it art, or to find an audience for it.
People here are so sheltered.
I’m pretty sure this girl is one of the little rich girls I love to hate around here.
Spoiled, high-maintenance, clueless, and brainless.
Her first essay we posted was about tripping down some steps in her jumping clogs—
For showing horses.
For the record, the essay was not as dreadful as some of them, but it wasn’t great.
Ok, here I am dwelling on this.
And I need to pee.
And go get started on my paper.

chicken in a biscuit with chili peppers and cherries

Why am I bothering to post?
Eh.
I got NOTHIN’.
A big, fat, steaming pile of it.

I will post later.
After I do my homework.
Or write my article for my writer’s group.
But definitely before the other stuff I’m going to do with someone else in an undisclosed location…
ok, that was code for marital sex, but it’s a lie.
As prairie biker so hilariously put it, this ride is out of service for the next 4-6 days.

Ew.
Sorry I mentioned it…
Jeez, now I feel like I have to post, to make up for that torture.
Oh well.
Instead, I’ll fight two directions of rush hour traffic to pick the husband up from work.
(His car is in the shop.)

real post later.
I promise.
In fact, I scratched out some cool notes while I was in class this morning.
Just for you fellas.
(fellas is a non-gender-specific term around here, deal with it.)

blogger just made me cream...

This is the FUCKING coolest thing since sliced FUCKING bread.
Christ on a cruise, this is grand!!!! Check me out!!!! I’m posting from WORD—
Yeah…
Why else do you think all the proper words are capitalized??
Oh yeah, and visit The Drawing Board if you wanna check out my homework…

I can almost smell my life receding to its proper alignment...

Or maybe that's just the tile grout wafting up from the basement.
yes, we're getting
closer.

I bought what must be the last remaining un-purchased copy of the newest Harry Potter tonight.
and the Chronicles of Narnia, all in one book.
that one I'll read to my kids, but not Harry Potter.
I am not sure why I'm still sitting here, when the book is giving me the come-hither stare...
I just wish Harry would get old enough for me to fantasize about.
books are entirely worthless without sex.
it's a proven fact.

oh, and I've turned in my second assignment for my Creative Writing class,
and I am on fire.
(my fingers & mind, not my crotch, just for the record)
here's a little excerpt from the feedback my proffessor gave me:

Lisa, I’m going to really enjoy your writing. Excellent, excellent openings. Tone more than anything else, and I’m beginning to think tone is one of the more vital features for a writer to look at. And your pace—again, the rhythm of the writing matches the images you’re creating.

I was ecstatic.
especially after receiving the email he sent to the whole class, offering a mild apology for how hard he was on everyone!
woooot!
ok, no victory dance just yet, but I'm feeling fantastic.
we're doing the unit (hehe...unit) on personal essays, which I've discovered is exactly the same as writing a blog post!!
well...
not one of MY blog posts...
like, those of you with TOPICS and THEMES all that sort of shit.
anyway.
super fun.

and now I am losing focus due to the large number of people who seem to be magnetically attached to my house for no apparent reason
(ok, fine, their reasons are apparent, but I still don't like it!)

and now it's time for oreos.
and milk.
(duh).
AND HARRY.
(mr. potter if you're half-blood!)
ok, ok, i'm leaving already...
back off.

is anyone else tired of my life getting too busy for bloggign??
yeah, me too.
smooch you all from head to toe--
(nope, not really all of you...)

Weekend, what weekend?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

No, Jerry, I didn't start my vacation already...

And it ain't no bloody "vacation"--
it's a whole lotta work and being unshowered (possibly) for 3 days...
I'm a fan of camping, in the same way I am a fan of dogs:
the idea of them is great.
other people's dogs are cool, as long as I don't have to touch them or deal with their incessant bathroom needs.
as for camping...
well.
I love the mountains, the lakes, the rivers.
I love sleeping under stars.
I love fishing (I think) and
I love roasting marshmallows.
On the other hand...
I abhor a day without a shower,
walking out into the dark when I have to pee,
taking off my shoes to go into and out of the god damn tent,
and that's all I can think of for this part.
also, my kids have only been camping one other time, but they were only 3 then...
so...
hopefully this will be better.
urg.
I am such a whiner.
I just want to sit around the house and read all weekend.
alone.
how frigging cool would that be??
maybe I can feign an illness or something at the last minute...

so the party was a smashing success,
but without much of anyone getting smashed, since it was a weeknight.
the food was all adored, and the crowd turned out to be mostly beer drinkers,
so I'm going to have to wait a while, and try that drink out on some other friends.
I loved it, though, Chris!
...and isn't that all that matters?

two disturbing things I've noticed lately:
first, yesterday the boys were playing some games on NickJr dot com,
and one of them involved an OctoPUSS, with a PET HOTDOG NAMED WEINY.
I am not fucking joking!!!!
I was appalled.
what the hell are they thinking???
"who are the ad wizards who signed off on THAT?"
(adam sandler, on SNL's celebrity jeopardy)
and then, a marketing issue:
the Venus razor that VIBRATES.
maybe I've covered this before...
it has a lovely, fallic shaped handle, so the possibilities are endless.
if you don't mind fucking a dildo with a RAZOR on the end.
ok, so maybe that's only for a pervert (like me), but I think it's an entirely too-small leap from razor-that-vibrates to dildo.
crazy freaks.

and, I think you should know--
I'm about to go postal on my contractor dude.
he's so god damn annoying and could be the world record holder of non sequitors.
he makes no sense EVER,
and is constantly seeking approval on his personal life/choices:
"Should I shave or grow the beard?"
Sometimes I have to pretend to laugh because his attempts at humor illicit gagging noises, so it's a good cover.
I also have to pretend to give a shit whether or not he uses a (vibrating???) razor.
AND.
he hits on all my friends.
and tries to DISCIPLINE MY KIDS.
what?
the?
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK????
Yes, I've been practicing major self-restraint not to bitch about him yet.
So, I'll be glory-glory-hallelujah ECSTATIC when they're finished.
Which should be before the end of next week.
I'm.
going.
to.
hurl.
If I have to talk to him again.
so, I guess I should carry a barf bag around with me...

anway.
I have been a little frazzled, getting used to this whole new schedule,
and it hasn't even started yet.
I think it'll actually be easier once the little ones are in school,
because I'll have 3 days a week where I have FREE TIME
ME TIME
SKI TIME
TEA TIME
KEY TIME
...yes, I'll lay off the crack.
anyway, I have hardly touched the puter all week,
and I can't really recall of I've tuoched the peter, either.
(hubby's, that is...)
I'm pretty sure we had sex a couple of times,
and no cracks on it not being memorable, m'kay?
I'm just out of it right now.
and frankly, when you're married, the times run together a bit unless you do something entirely new.
i'm pretty sure we've done everything at least twice by now.
even the stuff we didn't like!
hahahaha!
dudes.
I'm so fucking hilarious.
you should come hang out with me some
time.
...we could rhyme...
and suck a lime
(after the tequila)
and maybe even score a dime
bag.
of godiva chocolates!
jeeez....what do you people take me for??

time to go shop for final camping crapola.
I will forgot at least one key item, so don't even start.
or stop.
or go hippity hop...

happy mem--Labor day weekend, mutha fuckas.

blogger blows

nice "recover post" feature.
that SO does not work.

even if 98.3% of the blame belongs to my (kids') computer for freezing, mid-post.

It was just a long-winded rant about parking and pee, so you're not missing much.
I have a party to prepare for, and kids to pick up.
food to cook, stuff to dust.
BUT.
I did get the final ingredient for a Velvet Brain Hammer today.
Thanks, Chris--I'll let ya know how it turns out.
I even bought a pretty glass pitcher yesterday to serve them in--
I've been meaning to get one for EVER, so I'm glad I finally (fucking) remembered.
I'm getting thirsty just thinking about it...
should go nicely with my Jalepeno Wantons, crab dip, fresh guacamole, and cucumber sandwiches (on star-shaped bread)...
I fucking love making yummy food!!!!
After I had the kidlets I went from Martha Stewart mode (er...only in the kitchen)
to "whatever I can buy pre-made and throw onto a plate while shoving all the clutter into a closet" mode.
and, much like Martha's own return from prison, I too, am getting back into the kitchen.
AND.
hubby left his XM in my car last night, so I got to listen to god damn mother fucking GREAT comedy all the way to school and back.
Robin Williams on the invention of golf?
yes, please.
George Carlin's news broadcast?
I'll take two!
other people, on other subjects?
bring it the fuck on, XM!!!!
I'm ready and waiting.

I don't want to go pick up my kids...
they're at a lovely little drop-in day care, with fun toys and reasonable rates...
I had to take them there so I could go to class.
only I never made it to class...
see: parking and pee.
no, there was no pee "incident"--
I was simply under excruciating pain trying to avoid one, at the same time that I was vastly unsuccessful at finding parking.
so, I zoomed to the end of campus and hurtled into the hospital--
they have bathrooms there, dipshit, I wasn't dumb enough to seek medical attention for the problem, m'kay?
so.
I peed, and sweet jesus sang from on high!
or something, because boy oh boy did that feel terrific.

so after much charlie chaplin-like running around and getting nowhere like, really damn fast,
I went and bought a parking pass.
so...hopefully I wont' have to miss class again.
and I bought the textbook that wasn't assigned for my History of Rock n Roll class until after the first day of class.
just, completely, not listed on the textbook site.
dumbass.
and now, I'll be able to park.
...provided there are ever any free spaces anywhere near my building.
oh yes, I'm sure you haven't heard the last of the parking saga.
I'm sure you're thrilled...
"Tune in next time, when our fearless heroine plows over a handicapped kid to beat an old man to the last remaining parking spot on the entire campus!"

what does everyone have planned for the (american) holiday weekend?
we're going camping, on a mountain near a lake, with some friends.
should be good.
...if it's not too cold.
and the town at the base of the mountain is having its local festival this weekend,
so we'll have to go do some Onion Days festivities...
I fucking hate Utah, though.
EVERY damn town has a "______ Days"
some of them are named for a piece of produce, but others are just named for the town.
have I mentioned lately the herd mentallity of this fuck hole?
bah.
no, really, the surgeon said he was successful at removing the chip,
and my shoulder has the scar to prove it...
must just be a phatom pain.

ok, ok...
I'll go get my darling demons.
I'll be 'round to read everyone a little later.
I pinky swear...