laughing out loud

with joy. Fred Thompson. Why? And then to read this, delicious.

Just four Thompson supporters showed up at Utah Republican Party headquarters for the event, leaving dozens of untouched cookies and vegetable snacks provided in hopes a much bigger crowd would materialize.

And in Utah?? Jiminy Christmas, that's really surprising. And such fun.

what's wrong with the boomers

I saw this link in the comments at Joe's place and just started laughing my ass off. Duck and cover!

Do you remember? All of those bomb shelter signs? The bomb drills in school? Duck and cover!!!! Is it any wonder that the baby boomers are (reportedly) the most self absorbed generation ever?

That shrieking siren would go off at First Lutheran and all of us would rush out to the hallway where we'd kneel and tuck our knees beneath us, link our hands over our necks. Evidencing the sadistic bent for which I so well remember them, none of the teachers would tell us whether it was real or not; only when we were allowed to get up would we realize it was only a drill. They talked constantly of communists and nuclear holocaust and the looming invasion of the US by the "red Chinese."

Bomb shelter signs were everywhere and I always associated them with this movie, the viewing of which (peeking through my fingers as my hands covered my eyes) may have been the biggest trauma of my childhood years. Community meetings were held to discuss what would be done post-attack and to urge the building of home bomb shelters which, of course, had us burrowing into the soil like terrified prairie dogs.

This post isn't about trauma; it's about community craziness and the fun of looking back at a time when we lived with a simple kind of terror. On the advice of wise counsel, I am making a serious attempt to divert my attention to things other than the collapse of the republic.

Help me. Tell me if you remember the craziness of it all? Did you do the drills? Did you lie awake at night thinking about the coming commie horde?

take action now!

And save David Vitter's penis.

sing it, everybody

In the midst of my recovery from the cyber-attack and trying to get caught up at work, I have checked HuffingtonPost a few times to keep up with the headlines now that Congress is back in session. The news is good this morning ~ New York Times editorial calling for bringing the troops home, Justice Department lawyer telling all, Rethuglican senators defecting. The news is great.

But in the middle of all of that, when I clicked on UNDER SIEGE!, joyfully emblazoned over a photo of the chimp-in-chief, I somehow found this. It was a God thing. Sing it, pumpkins!! "The idiot son of an aaaasshole!" Sweet! And funny and right on target. Now I'll be singing this all day, but what better thing on a Monday afternoon when the tides may be turning at last?

something to smile about

Since I've been overtaken by gloom and hopelessness, I went back to Willym's recent post about his ever-so-handsome puppy, Reese. In this post, Willym notes the striking resemblance between Reese and the great John Barrymore. It is quite remarkable and Willym is certainly the alert observer to note the similarity between the two. In the photo of his profile, Master Reese strikes a regal pose which would seem to indicate he's known all along that he's a stageworthy fellow.

bush drops the gay bomb

Right here, and then there's love. Cute.

are you annoying?

Tony hit a nerve with a recent post on the annoying habits of others. A number of us ranted on and on about spitting and picking and smacking and other revolting things.

It started me wondering about my own annoying habits. I drop my socks wherever I take them off. Rarely in the bedroom. I know it irks my husband. Oh, and I pinch one nostril shut and blow my nose on the ground. Just kidding, though I've had the misfortune to see that done more times than I can count. Aside from the socks, I'm close to perfect. Do you think there's anything folks find annoying about you?

rrrrrrrrring!

Me: Hello?
Him: I'm calling about the ad you had in the paper for a registered sex offender to work in your warehouse? Are y'all still hiring?

I thought "what the hell?" and then I heard the laugh. It was Mick, calling for the first time since he got out of prison and he sounds good. Sober and cheerful, going to meetings, and as funny as he always was. If you are a praying or a positive thoughts person, please send one up or out or sideways for Mick to stay sober.

all the benefits of marriage

Just for you guys . . .


Video tip-off from Gay Men Rule.

ch-ch-ch-ch-chaaaanges

In my futile but lifelong effort to transform my food addicted self into a normal person, I am revising yet again my eating plan. I know I need a plan. OA tells me "If you fail to plan, you plan to fail," but there's a little voice in my head saying "it's okay to go slow."

So am back to a couple of shakes a day and a meal and a snack, something like that. The point is flexibility. I vacillate between absolute rigidity and some sort of fluid approach to food. Too fluid = big binges, but absolute rigidity seems beyond my grasp at this moment.

I learned this yesterday after returning from Ponca City, taking my sister to the airport and finding myself starving. Starving, I tell you! Starving!! So I stopped at a fast store thinking I'd get a protein bar kind of thing. When I am thinking protein bar, I should never, ever stop to read the ingredients. These things have to be manufactured by Dow or Pfizer and they actually smell and taste like it. Yuck.

So instead of the plan-approved protein bar, I looked around and there were grapes. Red, luscious, fresh grapes all clean and lovely in a nice portion-sized cup. I dropped the chemi-bar and snagged the grapes. I went to the park and sat in the grass feeling a delicious sense of gratitude for the beauty of the day, the sun, the breeze, and each one of those cold, crisp, delicious, divine little bursts of juicy sweetness.

Life may be too short to not eat grapes. I am forever grateful for the 6-7 months I was able to do on a full liquid diet because it gave me such freedom. I got rid of a pile of weight and feel frisky and fit and strong. I can do the rest with a more moderate plan of a few meal replacements and a real meal, something to share with friends or my sweetheart. It's okay not to be in a rush. It is. Isn't it?

6 snippets from a weekend

1. Trucknutz. Three times now. Again on I-40 I picked up this clown at Sallisaw and lost him at the Ft. Smith turnoff. Same black truck, same B&D taillights, same big ol' swinging nuts under the bumper hitch.

2. A man pulled up next to me on I-40 just as I turned east. Lingered long enough at 80 mph to cause me to look over at him. What is that thing men do where they flick their tongues between the upside down V of their fingers? I mean, I know what they're doing, but crimifuckinitly, is it an invitation? I wish I could look stern or hateful in response, but it always just makes me laugh because it's so stupid. Did he really think that upon seeing his tongue performance, I'd be overcome with lust, roar off at the next exit, fling myself from the car in a heat and sprawl in the grass to await his ministrations?

3. Hit two auctions, and didn't buy everything in the building. Bought what I need and only at good prices. If you noticed a little dizziness and an unsettled feeling late last night and again this evening, that was the earth stopping its spin momentarily as I checked out and did not overspend. Miracles happen, it's true.

4.Second auction, a guy grabbed me by the arm and said "have you been coming here long?" I said yes, for years. He said "wow, did you, um . . . have you lost a lot of weight?" I said yes. He said "man, you look amazing! Candy and I were trying to figure out if you were the same person. You just look great." To which I could only say "well thank you, honey, I sure feel better." Compliments are fast and furious with active weight loss but when it levels out, they slow or vanish. Sigh. It was nice to be reminded.

5. Went to Ft. Smith alone as Mike was still kind of puny from the cold he caught after the awful thing he had last week. I had a CD called "Last Party" and was playing disco at top volume, drinking coffee, speeding along in my little car unmolested until I saw Mr. Big Testicles. But it was a blast and it reminded me of the person I used to be, the one who'd get out of the Houston bars at 3 a.m. and head to New Orleans on a whim, the one who'd drive to Chicago for no reason, would head to Galveston in the middle of the night. I love my sweetie with all my heart, but it was a little bittersweet to think of the way my life used to be.

Of course most of that was when I was drinking, so there were also times when I'd go to the bars and end up in places I'd not planned with individuals I'd not met (in lucidity, anyway), so I'm not complaining. There's just something wonderful about being alone and free and on the road.

6. Thanks to all of you for the kind words about my papa and for sharing your own experiences with dementia/alzheimers. I know it is an increasingly common problem and it helps so much to hear the experiences of others. Thank you.

But on a happier note

After writing out that ugliness below, I feel renewed, so here's something fun, though not work safe. Friend Leslie and I have been sending Monk-E-Mail to each other. They are hysterical, truly, and the monkeys will say anything you want and they know all the bad words. Like this one. And this one.

They're addictive, and they're here: Monk-E-Mail

UPDATE: This just in from Leslie. I am dying in a happy way.

Really funny if it were not so sadly true

Not work safe . . .

Where is this coming from?

I can't get this idea out of my head that I am supposed to go to seminary. God has a sense of humor. Wouldn't that be a hoot? I haven't even been in church since I was 12. Very strange and it won't go away. Pray for me, darlings.

All I want for Christmas . . .

Betty is better and all is well in my world. This may be one of the funniest things I've seen this holiday season. Turn your sound up and enjoy.