Queen Elizabeth
Posted on August 19, 2007 - Filed Under Family, Just For Fun, ab fab costumes, hysterical, my opinions
About four years ago, my friend Jenny decided to take a job in Texas and leave California. To say I was crestfallen puts it mildly, as she was and always will be one of my dearest friends. But she knew her future was there and so it was. She met a great guy, got married and had two more kids.
I have known her first child, Arthur all his life and couldn’t love a kid more if he were my own. I taught him how to say “Republican Rage”, the Italian flip off and how to make a mashed potato pimple (you don’t want to know). But I never met her ‘new’ kids until Thanksgiving of last year.
She and her brood came down to visit everyone over that holiday weekend and we all headed up to Santa Barbara for the family feast. Her new little boy, Maverick is one of those cuter than cute kids who at that point didn’t really talk but had a series of grunts that meant certain things, it didn’t take long to figure those out and I became a hit with him when I gave him a keychain that had a little button that turned on a light.
Then there was Elizabeth. Queen Elizabeth to you cretins. For a three year old she had an amazing presence. It was clear on my first look that she knew her own mind and soon so would I. As soon as she got out of the car, she stared me down with her unwavering gaze as if to say, “Who is this broad?” The fact that I have a little dog who is cute as a button fared well for me with QE and I guess she decided she liked me.
Elizabeth is a girlie girl. She likes her dresses and shoes. Craves hair ties and tierras. Purses, wallets, mirrors and probably make up if you gave her any. I figure by age 5 she’ll be donning stilletto heels and ignoring all the giggly little boys who follow her in her kindergarten class. She is a cutie to be sure. And stubborn as the day is long. Crafty too. On the drive up, she kept managing to get that little keychain away from Maverick which of course inspired blood curdling screams from little brother. Her ability to create and wear convincingly the I don’t have a clue what’s wrong face could give all the Barrymore’s a run for their money and it took a while to figure out what she was doing. And there were battles over blankets, snacks, water and so on.
Clearly, in Elizabeth’s world, all that she purveyed was hers to have and let the peasants take what was left or bored her. It’s the kind of attitude that will make her a rich and very savvy entreprenuer one day. She is a go-getter. She knows what she wants and goes after it with a venegance. I wish that when I were a child I’d been that focused and sure of what I wanted - how different my life would have been.
Throughout the weekend, Jenny and I made jokes about her queenly attitude in all its many manifestations and it is truly one of my fondest memories of that weekend. This willful and charming child stole my heart.
For Christmas, I sent her a watch (because we discovered over that weekend where Jenny’s watch kept getting to) and a variety of hair ties. Which I have been told by Jenny that she covets and guards with enthusiasm.
The other day Jen sent me the top picture and I had to laugh because I thought, “Finally she has found her crown.” And from the looks of it, couldn’t be happier in her kingdom.
So, here’s to you, my Queen, long may you reign!
Love,
Duckie
Gracie Does Pomp & Circumstance by Jess Em
Posted on June 4, 2007 - Filed Under Guest Post, Humor, Just For Fun, WTF?, adventure, brain farts, funny bone, hysterical, laughs
I was a clumsy kid. As a matter of fact, I’m a clumsy adult. The person who falls down in the middle of an empty sidewalk wearing flip flops and carrying nothing more interesting than a small bag I purchased specifically for it’s easy-to-carry-while-carting-around-two-toddlers style. And then attempts to pretend that I didn’t just fall down while all alone, surrounded by nothing more than air, while strolling leisurely on the most innocuous sidewalk in the world. It’s a sad testament to my capability as a grown adult, but at least I’ve managed to never harm another human being in my inability to do anything gracefully.
I grew up in Jersey. We had big hair, wore leggings under everything, and had high tops to coordinate with every sweatshirt-dress we owned. I had at least ten pairs of dangly star earrings in a variety of colors, and wore them proudly with my crimped hair and teased bangs. I was cool. Until I walked into an open locker while staring at Eric Cochrane over my right shoulder. Or fell in PE while jogging as I tried to impress him with my fleet-footed sprinting capability. My parents called me “Gracie”, a supposedly affectionate nickname that served only to remind everyone that I was bound to trip over something.
My school was K-8, the eighth grade graduation being the culmination of all things. It was the pinnacle of the early school years: an event each of us yearned for as we entered into the middle-school wing. We had the pomp, the ceremony. The eighth graders missed class for graduation practice. They got to leave school early…they got pizza for lunch TWICE a week. They were the ultimate. We all wanted to be in eighth grade, so when I reached that pinnacle, I knew great things would come. My eighth grade graduation would be the day, the one where I shined. I was smart-I knew I’d get awards. I’d be stylish, because mom took me shopping for shoes with heels on them. By God, I’d have good hair. No frizz.
The day of The Graduation dawned bright and beautiful, as it can only be on the Jersey shore in June. My parents had made reservations at a rather jazzy little place in Manasquan, and I couldn’t wait to walk down the aisle to the graduation song. I had my new shoes ready, heels and all, and took my time getting my bangs to just the right height to sit perfectly under the square of my graduation cap. I loved the jaunty swing of my tassel; the click of my little heels on the floor. I was wearing makeup. Mascara, and a little lip gloss. I was the shit.
We got to the school, my family took their seats, camera at the ready. They had already put in their order for the VHS of the ceremony. I joined my classmates in the band room, all of us happily chattering in our royal blue graduation robes. My bangs were the perfect height, I noted, looking at the bangs of my classmates.
The chairs for the graduates were set up on the stage of the elementary school gym stage. The kind with the heavy red curtains used for everything from dances to PE class to PTA meetings. My last name starting with an “M”, I was right in the middle of the procession. To get to our seats, we had to walk down the center aisle, turn right at the stage, walking around the band to go up the stairs at the right side. Simple. And interesting to watch, I’m sure, as 90 eighth graders step-tap-step-tapped all the way down the aisle to the beat of “Pomp and Circumstance”.
My turn, finally, and I step-tap-step-tapped my way down the center aisle, smiling for the cameras, my little heels clicking on the floor, my bangs maintaining their perfect height. My tassel swinging perfectly. It was beautiful. My shining moment. I walk down the aisle, around the band, up the steps.
Until, well. The Moment. The moment of all things ridiculous, mortifying, humiliating. I tripped. Up the top step. Shouldn’t have been a big deal, a little stumble that was easily recoverable.
Except. I was wearing heels, for the first time ever. So here’s how it went: I trip up the step, try to recover, step on my robe, slip on my heels, teeter left, over the stage. Off the stage. Onto a band member, slamming my forehead against the edge of the stage on my way down, before landing on the back of my head on the lovely, well-polished, hardwood floor.
I spent my graduation in the ER, being treated for a concussion. Getting stitches over my left ear where I slammed into the trumpet of the terrified fifth grade band member as I fell onto the floor.
Needless to say, my parents have kept their VCR in good repair solely for the purpose of being able to show that particular video. To everyone in the world. If they knew about YouTube, it’d probably be on there too.
This One’s For You, Sanjaya!
Posted on April 4, 2007 - Filed Under Current Events, Humor, Just For Fun, WTF?, american idol, bad art, brain farts, classics, cool cats, double yoiks, fangirly, funny bone, hysterical, laughs, loving it!, musical favorites, my opinions, really stupid shit, sarcasm, satire, video, vote!
Sorry for all the vids but I had to post this one for our favorite idol disaster. WC
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/v/-K2Yi_y7Y4w]
Turn the Magic Ear to the ‘On’ Position
Posted on February 27, 2007 - Filed Under Deep thoughts, Humor, Joke Time, Just For Fun, acts of idiocy, adventure, boomers, brain farts, classics, clueless, funny bone, future, hysterical, laughs, loving it!, my opinions, really stupid shit, smells, that's class
I have seen the future and it looks like this. LOL. Oh yes it does. 
WC 
And The Oscar Goes To…
Posted on February 21, 2007 - Filed Under Current Events, Humor, Just For Fun, Movies, WTF?, ab fab costumes, acts of idiocy, adventure, algore, bad hair day, bloviating one, brain farts, classics, clueless, drama queen, funny bone, hysterical, laughs, loving it!, my opinions, oscars, really stupid shit, satire, scary chicks, yoiks
Nah, not really - sorry Al, I doubt you’re getting any awards for your ‘film’ but it was quite an interesting piece of fiction. However, that dress is rather striking, so you might luck out and end up on the best dressed list for the Oscars. And have you been working out because you look positively svelte. WC
(hat tip to patriot post for the incredibly funny pic - lol, this picture just slays me!)
If you want to read a compelling and interesting post about Algore and his contentions check out this post from my buddy Mick.
WC
Breakfast at the Museum
Posted on February 18, 2007 - Filed Under Humor, Just For Fun, WTF?, ab fab costumes, acts of idiocy, adventure, brain farts, classics, double yoiks, favorites, friends, funny bone, hysterical, laughs, loving it!, monte python, really cool shit, really stupid shit, satire, video
I guess we all get a bit peckish, sometimes. So, here they are Zelda and my alter egos…for your entertainment. 
WC
[youtube=http://www.youtube.come/v/imxb8IShtoc]
Have You Painted Your Cat Lately?
Posted on February 15, 2007 - Filed Under Humor, I gots to have it, I'm in awe, Just For Fun, Life, WTF?, ab fab costumes, acts of idiocy, adventure, amazing, art, beautiful photos, cat painting, cool cats, hysterical, i dunno, joy of creating, laughs, loving it!, my opinions, really cool shit, really stupid shit, works of art, yoiks
Apparently, people still are finding ways to waste their money. A new trend appears to be having your cat painted for about 15 grand a pop. And if you want to keep up with the Jones’ you have to do repaints every three months. Can you imagine having nothing better to do with 60 grand a year than to have your housepet painted? Duh!
That being said, they are pretty impressive paint jobs.
(HT to FC for the pics!)
WC
What She Did For Love????
Posted on February 10, 2007 - Filed Under Deep thoughts, Humor, Just For Fun, Life, Random Thoughts, WTF?, ab fab costumes, acts of idiocy, adventure, amazing, bad hair day, brain farts, classics, clueless, crap!, double yoiks, funny bone, head exploding, hysterical, i dunno, laughs, my opinions, really stupid shit, temporary insanity
Okay, call me crazy, but don’t they have any psych evaluations at NASA? I mean if you’re going to send somebody up into space (potentially) wouldn’t you want to make sure that they had their head screwed on right? I would. Hell, even if it was just a driver’s license I’d want to make sure. Talk about out of this world. This chick was like Fatal Attraction meets SpaceBalls or something. Jeez. I think it may be time to rethink the NASA program. These folks should be being drafted for politics not space travel.
WC
(HT to Gerry for the toon. Tanks, buddy.)
Hot Off the (Church Lady) Press!
Posted on February 4, 2007 - Filed Under Deep thoughts, Humor, Joke Time, Just For Fun, Life, Random Thoughts, acts of idiocy, adventure, bad hair day, brain farts, classics, clueless, double yoiks, empty head, funny bone, hysterical, laughs, really stupid shit, yoiks
(HT to KellyToo, who sent me this hilarious list. WC)
They’re Back! Church Bulletins: Thank God for church ladies with typewriters. These sentences actually appeared in church bulletins or were announced in church services:
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The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.
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The sermon this morning: “Jesus Walks on the Water.” The sermon tonight: “Searching for Jesus.”
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Our youth basketball team is back in action Wednesday at 8 PM in the recreation hall. Come out and watch us kill Christ the King.
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Ladies, don’t forget the rummage sale. It’s a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
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The peacemaking meeting scheduled for today has been canceled due to a conflict.
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Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say “Hell” to someone who doesn’t care much about you.
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Don’t let worry kill you off - let the Church help.
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Miss Charlene Mason sang “I will not pass this way again,” giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
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For those of you who have children and don’t know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
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Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
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The Rector will preach his farewell message after which the choir will sing: “Break Forth Into Joy.”
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Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
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A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow.
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At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be “What Is Hell?” Come early and listen to our choir practice.
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Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
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Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
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Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.
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The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility.
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Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.
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The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
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Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. is done.
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The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
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Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door.
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The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare’s Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
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Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.
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The Associate Minister unveiled the church’s new tithing campaign slogan last Sunday: “I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours”
What’s That Smell?
Posted on January 22, 2007 - Filed Under Humor, Just For Fun, Life, WTF?, acts of idiocy, adventure, brain farts, breathe, clueless, crap!, double yoiks, empty head, favorites, funny bone, hysterical, laughs, memories, nature, really stupid shit, rest in peace, smells
A few years ago I lived in a little cottage in a rather pastoral setting. There were several other little cottages on the property, all beneath a canopy of grape leaves. In the summer the grapes would ripen and there would be beautiful, deep purple clusters of grapes seemingly hanging in the air. The landlord, a crusty old coot from Hungary also liked to garden and there were rows and rows of fresh tomatoes, berries and peppers - all freely available to we little cottage dwellers.
So there we were all tucked away in this psuedo Tuscan atmosphere, with our grapes and our fresh veggies and little cottages. Mine being, of course, the ultimate writer’s garret. I could pretend to be Hemingway or at least Erma Bombeck. On warm summer nights, I’d prop open the front door to get in a breeze, since the cottage was woefully lacking windows. Still I loved my little space and my privacy.
Well, one night whilst I plopped on the sofa and watched television, I could swear I saw the frying pan dance. I had one of those open floor plans where the kitchen really was just a few feet from the sofa and the stove was definitely in plain sight.
I was puzzled. Now just how does a frying pan dance, I wondered. I shrugged assuming it was shadows playing tricks on my eyes and looked back at the television - but damn if it didn’t happen again. I got up slowly and tip-toed a little closer to the stove and eeek what did I see but a little mouse doing the boogaloo in my frying pan. (Can you say, throw that pan away?)
Naturally, we both screamed - he scurried off and I ordered my cat to attack. No deal. The cat was just a kitten really and not much bigger than the mouse and my dog was so old she barely noticed earthquakes. So, naturally I got the elimnator (the broom) and attacked the back of the stove and the walls and stuff to scare the little bugger out. Yep, didn’t work.
Next day I talk to the crusty old Hungarian about getting rid of the mouse. He acted like he didn’t understand english and so I went to the store and bought some mouse poison. I don’t really like doing stuff like that but hey - I couldn’t have the little vermin running around my house and nibbling on my toes or ears whilst I slept - so mouse poison it was. I place one packet behind the stove and one behind the sofa.
Every night I’d hear a frenzied, gleeful squealing and rattling of the platic bag. Apparently that was mousie coke based on his obvious enjoyment of that which would eventually do him in. Every morning, I’d peek to see just how much of this stuff he was eating - thinking any day now it’d be over. Well, believe it or not, it took several days. Now that mouse had quite an appetite. But finally one day I came home from work and there he was lying dead on my bath mat (yep pitched that too). Phew! that was over. Must remember not to prop door without babygate in it. All is right with the world.
So a couple of days later I’m sitting at my desk and ’sniff-sniff’ what the heck was that smell? I looked under the desk, checked the trash - tried to remember if I was wearing dirty sweat pants and so on…but nothing. I went back to work. There it was again. That smell! I checked my armpits - was I going through some serious detox? Was I drinking too much water or not enough? Was the exercise tape really making me stink taht much.
I took a shower.
Sure enough the next day, it’s back again. What was it? What other horrible thing had crawled into my house? Where had the dog barfed or the cat peed? What the hell was that smell? I simply could not find the source.
Saturday morning, I got the bug to do a spring cleaning. I whipped out the cleanser and sos pads, the furniture polish, the window cleaner and finally the vacuum. Yep my little cottage was going to sparkle and shine. On went the vacuum and it went merrily about its business sucking up hidden dirt (and I hoped smells) and sand and rocks and whatever else me and the dog dragged in. Ooops had to move my big desk chair - now for as small as that place was I always insisted on having a big comfy leather chair, so it took up some room - but it was worth it. So move chair out of way and gasp! what do I see? Yep, my mousie’s dancing partner. There she was in all her white and brown speckled glory. And she was rightly stinking the place up. I could never find the source of the smell cuz it was right under my big fat ass the whole time.
So the moral to the story is, if you got one mouse than probably have two. And a dead mouse really stinks!
WC
