Sucker for a Survey

I, like my sister, can't pass up a survey. If gives us a chance to be witty and well, screw around when we just can't stand working on communications plans or teaching small children (oh please - she's the teacher. Don't leave me alone with 34 children in a cement block room. you'd have the next Stephen King novel on your hands.) Anyway... this might be one of the better surveys to cross my path:

1. What's the last thing you put in your mouth?
Echinecia tea. I am a sick girl.

2.What does your last incoming text say?
“Are you here?” Very existential

3.The last song you listened to?
I’d like to pretend it was Beethoven or Wagner, but it was “Dear Mr President” by P!nk

4.Where is your best friend right now?
I have best friends (plural) but in the course of one week I’ll have seen them all and that’s a pretty swell week

5.What did you do yesterday?
Turned oxygen into carbon dioxide

6.Pick a scar on your body. Where'd it come from?
Bridge of my nose - at age 1 1/2. I thought I could catch my older sister. Bitch was fast at 4-years-old.

7.What do you really think happened to Steve on Blues Clues?
Who on What?

8.If you could change your name to anything what would it be?
Emily Cusack

9.What would you say if a guy told you, you were the most beautiful person in world?
"I’ll have what he’s having"

11. How often do you curse?
We might save some time by counting the other minute and a half a day

12. Do you trust all of your friends?
Oh hell no. And if they're smart, they don't trust me

13. Would you move to another state or country to be with the one you love?
That's what I signed up for when I joined: www.americanmailbrides.com

14. Have you ever talked on the phone while in the shower?
Who am I, Donald Trump? Who the eff is that important?

15. Which one of your friends do you think would make the best prostitute?
Well, I'm sure if they put their minds to it, any one of them could get pimped out with the best of them.

16. Are you afraid of falling in love?
Love isn't scary - it's the stalking, cheating, heart-wrenching part that makes folks want to go fetal.

17. Is there someone that popped in your mind after that question?
Danny DeVito -but totally unrelated

18. How many kids do you want to have?
I have better plans for my nether-region

19. Would you make a good parent?
"No, Dr Frankenstein, there will be no "making" of parents"

20. Where was your default picture taken?
Okay, I'm lame. What the eff is that?

21. Honestly, what's on your mind right now?
I'm re-memorizing my multiplication tables. Don't judge me.

22. If you could go back in time and change something, what would it be?
My hairstyle in my fifth-grade school picture. I'd be Mrs Lonnie Nells right now

23. What are you wearing right now?
A shit-eating grin and a scarf

24. Right or Left?
Right brain, left politics

25. Can you make a dollar in change right now?
Look under the sofa cushions, you cheap bastards

26. Have you had a sore throat?
Uhhh...right now. (but what the hell kinda question is that?)

27. Who knows you the best?
There are a few peeps who’ve got my number. But only two I’d call if there was a body that needed burying. (KB/CT)

28. Do you wear contact lenses or glasses?
Never both at once, can you say migraine?

29. Ever been to Mexico?
No, but I’m gonna be awful close in a few days.

30. Last thing that made you laugh out loud?
I might have sheepishly grinned a couple times during this survey

31.Would you show your boobs to a midget on roller skates?
Boobs, midget - sure, but roller skates scare the eff out of me

32. Did you miss anyone yesterday?
Marty. Every day.

33. Last person to lay in your bed?
I like to pretend that while I'm at work, George Clooney flies in and writes poetry in my bed. He’s kind enough to leave it just as he found it.

34. What are your plans for the weekend?
Can you say San Diego, baby??

35. Who do you think will repost this?
Z mentioned answering it her ownself.

You Don't Bring Me Flowers...Anymore

I live a pretty happy life. I have good friends and good family and good memories. And every once in a while those three good things converge into one perfect night.

Last night, I went with some of my whacky friends, with a dash of family (and soon-to-be-family) to see The Black Diamond. The Black Diamond is a Neil Diamond tribute singer who we'd seen fliers for around town, but never actually met anyone who'd seen him. He was becoming the stuff of legends.

Then one night while out with CT and Team H, we discovered he would be playing my birthday weekend at a local bar.

Now, sure, there was a pretty good chance that the whole evening would turn into Mockstock 08. 'Cause the real Neil Diamond is farcy enough. A "tribute singer" - hmmm...

All I can say is - The Black Diamond is quite simply - DELICIOUS.

We were with a friend who kept saying he didn't know any Neil Diamond songs until, well, The Black Diamond launched into the next number - and our friend became aware that he knew every Neil Diamond song and could even sing along.

And that is where my conclusion comes in - Neil Diamond rocks. The Black Diamond rocks. And anyone who doesn't believe, well, check out our neighborhood tribute singer as he hits Vegas. It'll be like you done went to sleep an atheist and woke up singing in the church choir.

God bless the deliciousness of The Black Diamond.

The girl who loved Sports

There once was a girl who loved football. She watched the games, owned football jerseys, caught Sports Center and relished in the pigskin season.

Oh crap - did you think I was talking about me? HELL no. I was talking about my friend CT - who actually is like the girl I just described.

She loves football. And like a good Michigander, supports the abysmal Lions and hopes that most any Michigan college beats all other colleges. Girls who love sports really do exist. They are not just the stuff of unicorns and leprechauns. And some times they are sweet, funny, beautiful graphic designers. I know, all the boys are thinking "where do I get me one of them?" Sorry, you missed your chance - she's taken. By another lover-o-the-football.

I am slightly different than my friend, CT. (You knew this would get back around to me eventually) - as sports themselves do not whip me into a frenzy. As many football, basketball and baseball games I've witnessed, both in person and on tv - I don't have a complete understanding of the rules. Okay, basketball, only because I played it (poorly) when I was younger (another story). And once you get into the crazy rules of hockey and soccer - well, then - cash me out.

But...that is not to say I do not like Sports. Because Sports are very smart (if they possessed cognitive thought and reasoning) because Sports know that not everyone has the talent to play them, nor the copious amounts of testosterone to be a fan of them. But they know that most everyone likes to have a good time and that's why Sports where smart enough to include beer, food and cute outfits into their weekly rituals.

And you can't beat bear, food and cute outfits with a stick in my book.

So you will see me at many tailgates. You will find me cheering loudly in the stands. You will glimpse me in an over-priced college tshirt (that I did not attend) and you will probably find me singing Fight Songs off key all at the same time. And don't think for a second you could keep me from throwing a Super Bowl party.

Because while I do not like sports - I do like Sports.



Oh yeah, did I mention all the cute boys in tight uniforms?

Aunt M

My friend, MB, said he's a little tired of my cheerful holiday disposition and just when do I think I will turn back into my dark and twisty self?

It's hard to say, as I'm currently hanging out with my niece in Maryland and while she has the propensity to leave fingerprints all over my glasses and spit up cottage cheese on my favorite hooded sweatshirt - she's still about the sweetest thing on the planet and I pretty much smile all day when she's around.

Having said that - I'm not sure I actually want the pleasure of giving birth to a real live human child. Real live human children don't really get cool til about one year old. (okay, 18-years-old) All those freaks who "ooh" and "ahh" over little tiny wrinkly red babies need to find some good anti-psychotic drugs.

Even my sister, who is just the best mom on the planet, is the first one to admit that the entire reason kids are cute and learn how to smile is so you don't feel justified in drowing them. Natural selection nothing - giggling is the secret to the continuation of the human race.

Okay, with all of that - I'm just not sure I'd be a good mother to an infant. My dry sarcastic humor would be totally lost on a baby. My forgetfulness would surely end in the kid sitting in the ol' car carrier on the curb. And let's be honest - one more spin of Raffi in the cd player might turn me into the type of person they wrote the Safe Haven laws for.

Don't get me wrong - I love kids. Kids are very fun and cool and best enjoyed during the holidays, on short trips and never with my remote control hanging out of their mouths.

Unless they smile and then, well, I guess all is forgiven.

Seasons of Love

It's that time of year isn't it? It's that time of year when the snarky me takes a wee nap and tries, for a moment or two at least, to revel in the season.
I'm a sucker for the Salvation Army Bell Ringers. Man, I just love those people. Outside, bitter cold, ringing a bell in hopes of some spare change for those less fortunate. I never have change on me, except this time of year - for just this purpose. Some jackass told me the other day that an amazingly large number of Bell Ringers actually steal the money for themselves. Oh - cheer the fuck up (sorry, some of my family members may not be aware that I swear...a lot) - but come on! Even if there are cases of Bell Ringers gone wild - that is not the spirit of which I speak. They are outside, in the cold, ringing a bell - I love these people.
The infinite patience of store clerks. I cannot imagine the life of the average store clerk - but I would wish a thousand paper cuts before I would wish to be one during the holidays. For all our gift giving - shoppers are the stingiest bastards on the planet. Damn it if we don't get the extra .002% off because we got in line before 6a.m. Each of these people deserves to be driving a Mercedes for all the crap they put up with.
Christmas sweater-wearers. God bless them. Me, well, I'm a jerk and I only wear holiday sweaters to mocking events like the Sweater and Turtleneck party at a local bar. Where, yes, the point is the find the most disgusting sweater and flaunt it. But the true-of-heart Christmas sweater-wearers - they love the holidays, or they were given one by their 3rd grade class or they know they are going to see the great-aunt who knitted it for them. Either way, they will one day earn a place in heaven for their earnest couture.
Which leads me, naturally, to all those who don the Santa cap. Yes, they are horrible hats. But when worn with the true spirit or after six of Uncle Chet's "special" punches - it is endearing and wholesome. What happens after the seventh glass of punch - not so wholesome.
And finally - I am forever enamored by the purchasers of the Chia Pet and The Clapper. There isn't much to say about these individuals except to say - they believe in the power of unwrapping the most unmitigated pile of crap. Crap, when purchased in the spirit of the season, is beautiful and wonderful and not at all identifiable as crap. God bless these innocents and God bless The Clapper!

"Santa. This Saturday. Billions and Billions Served"

On my way home from a fantastically refreshing "Non Holiday" party this weekend in the land of RV's, I saw this on the sign below the Golden Arches of a local McDonalds:

Santa. This Saturday. Billions and Billions Served.

Fine, the "Billions and Billions Served" is there year-around, but the pairing of the two declarations gave me pause. Have we lost the meaning of Christmas?

Growing up, my family wasn't big into church, so we lost some of the no-room-at-the-inn connections. We worshiped santa, reindeer and singing snowmen. And while I like the Mary, Joseph (what a saint!) and Jesus bits - I don't think those cheering for Kris Kringle lost the "meaning of Christmas". And to me, that will always be - Magic. Jesus, wisemen, Santa, flying reindeer - now matter how you package it, it is about magic.

It is about family. Be thankful for those who would wander for ages, just so you could find a place to sleep for the night. When you're together there is no difference between a four-poster bed and a manger.

It is about friendship. It is about finding people you can sing and dance with even when you've been a bah-humbug bastard.

It is about acceptance. So what if someone has a nose that lights up, let him play in your stupid reindeer games and get over yourself.

It is about following that part of you that seeks something precious and meaningful. You don't have to be toting frankincense and myrrh to be searching for something and to persevere until it is found.

It is about believing. Even when you're following a star (and probably feeling kinda stupid about it) - it is about believing that at the end of the journey you'll be glad you took the leap.

So maybe I shouldn't get so grumpy about Santa being at McDonalds, because when some kid sits on his lap and whispers his wildest dreams - there will be more magic in his heart than the world ever thought it could hold.

"The Most Wonderful Time of the Year..."

I have been off my game. The holidays have a way of doing that. Your schedule fills up, you flit from one party to the next and you get the otherwise ridiculous notion that you are a jet setter.

We're not even into heavy holiday party season and I'm already seeking out red sequined tops (only acceptable this time of year) and eating more cheese than can be digested by a single human being.

Gastrointestinal issues aside, I just love this time of year. Dressing up, seeing old friends, making new friends, toasting to just about everything on the planet and all under the glow of twinkling white lights. (Everything is better with white lights).

But tonight I finally got back to my computer, pulled up the ol' blog and realized that all I can do is worship my Pagan tree, listen to holiday music and revel in the "Holiday Me". So just for tonight Christmas is all about me and not the lil tike in the manger.

Don't fret for my eternal soul, I'm an ordained minister and will absolved myself of sin later. Tonight it's white lights, cheerful tunes and the glee of how good I look in red.