Happy Third Birthday, Katrina! Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Before we could get any more news, the power went out at my grandmother’s house.

Yeah, someone was laughing at us. I just know it.

Several phone calls later, we determined that the power was up and running in town which was about 8 miles away.

After sitting and stewing and panicking, we got our stuff together, left light of my life with my grandmother and aunt and headed to the library to use their computers.

When we get there, we find out that their system is down.

Argggghhhhh!!!!

We went home and listened to a battery operated radio and heard all sorts of atrocious things that were happening. It was chaotic and noisy and useless and misleading.

It was frustrating.

And, the whole time, I CAN’T REACT!!! I have to be “on” for my daughter.

We tried calling everyone we knew. The lines were so busy we couldn’t get through to anyone and no one could get through to us.

I didn’t know the whereabouts of my friends or co-workers or anything. I didn’t know the status of my house. I didn’t even know if I had a house to go home to. I didn’t know if all of my daughter’s pictures were ruined, or if my couch had floated off down the street or if my daughter’s brand new Barbie house that I had just built for her was ruined. I didn’t know if that snow white neighborhood cat had drowned or if any of my neighbors had stayed behind to ride it out and were now dead or barely surviving.

I didn’t know ANYTHING. And it was FRUSTRATING!

And I couldn’t react.

Later on Monday, we heard from my uncle who said he had power and cable up at his house. We headed over there and watched any cable news station we could find. We were literally sitting on the edge of his leather couch just trying not to scream or cry or throw things at the PURE LACK of information the media seemed to have.

Now, I know I can’t blame them entirely, but in this day and age where you can speak to someone in Japan and it sounds like they’re in the next room or you can download an entire movie in minutes off the internet, it seemed improbable that these people couldn’t get ANY information to the public.

At this point, really, my days started to run together.

During the next couple of days, we were able to ascertain that it seemed our little block did get about 3 feet of water but not as bad as what we were hearing what other neighborhoods were getting.

On one of those days, we heard from my aunt and discovered that their street had 9 feet of water. And their house was only 3-4 feet off the ground. In short, they lost pretty much everything.

Again, hers is not my story to tell.

We heard on the TV that there was a website you could go to and you could see ariel shots of your house or neighborhood. We wrote down the site and headed to the library. Lo and behold, they were right. We were able to actually FIND OUR HOUSE on the Internet! How cool! We could see someone’s VW bug parked on the street in front of the park right by the house. We could ACTUALLY SEE the top of the VW. We knew then that our house wasn’t under water. It did look like there was a tree down on the roof, but we couldn’t tell for certain.

However, I lived on the bottom half of the duplex. Which means, if water got into our house, everything in my house was pretty much ruined. Even if it was only a foot of water.

How did I know this? Because we had been hearing that we were not going to be allowed back in to the house until the waters receded.

Think about it. Weeks of standing water + tropical heat + no power = a big old mildew-y mess of proportions like you’ve never seen.

And I didn’t have flood insurance. My renters insurance didn’t cover flood and my mom’s homeowners insurance didn’t cover MY contents.

The next couple of days were filled with listening to my gorgeous new boyfriend (shut up, I know he’s gay, still…) Anderson Cooper and the horrifying and extremely unqualified Nancy Grace go on and on and on and on and on and on about the tragedy.

It was enough to make my ears bleed. But, like a car wreck, you couldn’t help but watch. We were watching to get a glimpse of familiar sites while others in the family were watching to just watch.

We finally got through to my incredibly wonderful neighbors. They had evacuated to a Podunk little town in LA and rode out the storm in a cabin.

All entrances to the city were blocked but my neighbor managed to sneak in and got all the way to our block. The last couple of blocks, he had to walk because it was too deep to drive the car.

He said when he got there, he could immediately see that our houses hadn’t been breached.

WHEW!!!!!!!!!

However, EVERYTHING in the sheds and in our laundry room were gone. My little Geo Storm was flooded and nasty and smelly. He lost the ‘stang he was rebuilding for his son.

Our neighbors on the corner got hit the hardest. They had a slab foundation and got 4 feet of water in their house (our street sloped downwards as you got closer to the park).

We were spared mostly because our houses were off the ground about 3 ½ feet. We missed getting water in our house by 6 inches.

Our neighbor was only able to do a look and see. He walked around both properties and verified that no windows were broken and looters had not broken in.

He said that he had never seen the city so quiet and still and empty. It broke his heart.

To be continued...

Later,

Happy Third Birthday, Katrina! Part 2

Part 1

So, we got on the road about 8 o’clock that night. The last time we evacuated (for Hurricane Ivan), it took us 12 HOURS to reach my grandmother’s house which is normally a 5 ½ HOUR drive. That was because the contra-flow was not in effect at that time. We had decided to evacuate by going over the Causeway Bridge. What normally took 30 minutes to cross took 2 hours. I was driving and I was TENSE the whole time.

Anyway, this time, it was a lot smoother. It took us about 7 hours to make the 5 ½ hour trip. This was with stopping for potty breaks and coffee breaks and to clean out the litter box from a foul…never mind. I won’t go there.

So, we arrive at my grandmother’s pretty early Sunday morning.

We had packed summertime clothes with the anticipation that we would be there for at least a week but no more than two weeks tops.

Let me back up a minute.

You know how you see neighbors in disaster movies wishing each other good luck while every one goes their separate ways before the meteor/huge tidal wave/dinosaur/aliens hit and/or attack?

Yeah, that’s what we did. For some reason, we stood on our front porch and talked to a few neighbors about what they all were going to do. Some neighbors that we had always just said “hello” to, we were exchanging telephone numbers of where we were evacuating to just in case. In case of what, we didn’t know. But, Just In Case.

Back to the story…

….when we arrived at my grandmother’s, we found out that my aunt and uncle were going to a party in Shreveport and staying the weekend there. My aunt was concerned enough to take her precious jewelry and a few other things but my asshole of an ex-uncle was absolutely CERTAIN that nothing was going to happen and was frustrated with her and everyone else in the greater N’awlins area for making such a fuss.

Despite what you heard/read/saw…people were taking this seriously.

We were relieved to hear that they would be out of harms way and after putting light of my life to bed, we stayed up for a bit longer talking.

Since nothing was predicted to happen that night or even later that day, I went on to bed.

Sunday was uneventful. Mostly just watching TV and whatnot. Trying to keep a 5 year old entertained with the few toys that we brought with us.

The longer the day dragged on, the more upset my stomach got.

Of course, having a kid, I couldn’t freak out. I couldn’t let on how scared or nervous or terrified or $%^*^& I felt. I had to hold it in.

We heard from my aunt periodically. I think at that point she might have known what was going to happen. I really can’t speak for her, though.

Sunday night arrives and it’s time to go to bed. I get light of my life in bed and watch her fall asleep.

I go back out to the living room and watch the TV. At this point, it was pretty much a forgone conclusion that we were going to get it and get it good. All we could do at this point was bend over and take it like big people.

They were giving updates pretty much every hour.

Knowing it was going to happen until very early Monday morning, I went on to bed.

I have to tell y’all something. No matter how stressful it gets, I can ALWAYS, ALWAYS fall asleep. And I did. I fell asleep cradling my daughter while horrible, horrible images floated through my head.

My mom later told me that when the winds started picking up (for at this time, we were starting to get some head winds), she opened the front door to my grandmother’s place and just watched the trees dance in the wind. She said it was beautiful.

I woke up later that day an hour or so after the storm had hit. We still had power at my grandmother’s house. We turned on the TV and tried to catch a glimpse of our city.

At this time, the levees hadn’t broken and flooded the city.

We didn’t breathe a sigh of relief, but I remember a sense of relief that we got the west side of the storm and my heart started going out to the Mississippians on the Gulf Coast who got the east and worst side of the storm.

Later that day, literally right before we lost power at my grandmother’s house (by that time, the storm had downgraded to a Category 1 or a Tropical Storm as it passed over us), we heard on the news that the levees had broken.

To be continued...

Later,

Happy Third Birthday, Katrina!

That bitch. I wish she was never born.

For those who think I’m a horrible, horrible person at this point, don’t fret.

I’m talking about Hurricane Katrina.



It was three years ago, today, that she struck with a wrath that only a woman could embody.

And that’s not an insult to women.

Quite a few of you have asked (in the past) about my Katrina story.

So, in honor of this anniversary (really, why do they call horrible tragedies, anniversaries? Why can’t they call them something else….like…trageversaries…or something), I’m gonna tell you my Katrina story.

Now, keep in mind, my immediate family (me, my daughter and my mother) got off relatively light in comparison to others.

I can’t tell you other people’s stories.

That’s for them to tell.

This is mine.

And mine alone.

A little background.

At that time, I worked for an insurance company. Ironic, huh? Anyway, I worked in the personal lines boat and yacht unit. We handled claims from all over the country, not just Louisiana.

In addition, we lived in a section of New Orleans called Uptown. It’s not as fancy as it sounds. If you think of New Orleans as a big 10 inch deep FULL to the brim bowl…our house was about 2 centimeters from the lip of the bowl.

Back in 1998, my mom moved to New Orleans from Orlando, FL. I had moved there earlier in the year and was living with a friend. My mom decided to put down roots in New Orleans and she thought it would be beneficial to both of us if she purchased a duplex. She would live in one half of the duplex and I would rent the other half from her.

This was pre-light of my life and pre-ex-husband.

This scenario worked out for both of us.

7 years, 1 kid and 1 divorce later, on the Friday before Katrina struck, we found ourselves wiping our foreheads with relief that we had dodged a big one.

Before I left work on that Friday, I had logged on to the National Hurricane Center (NHC) and saw that the prediction was that the storm was going to turn and the projected path at that time was Orange Beach/the panhandle of Florida area.

We went about our business like normal. Had a nice Friday night. Yada, yada, yada.

On Saturday morning, I got a phone call from a co-worker asking me what I was going to do.

I was stumped. I said, “What do you mean”? She told me to turn on the weather channel.

So I did. And I promptly dropped the phone.

The projected path put New Orleans right smack dab in the middle of the path.

There was still a chance that the storm would turn. We didn’t panic too bad. Yet….

My mom came downstairs from her house and we talked about our options. We had already needed to run errands, so we decided to continue on with our day with us stopping by the office at some point to check the NHC website.

We went about our errands and ran by the office. We saw that they still had it hitting New Orleans.

Now…we panicked.

We went home and both of us checked our hurricane bags (for those of you not in the know, a lot of people keep a bag packed with important essentials like insurance papers, birth certificates, marriage certificates, divorce papers, precious jewelry, etc…packed in an easy to identify bag from basically June to November) and started taking pictures off the walls and putting breakables under pillows, etc….You know, preparing for your house to be pummeled with high winds and lots of rain. I put all of light of my life’s books in garbage bags (some were from when I was a kid). I fed her fish, Freddy, tons and tons of food.

We cooked up as much tilapia from the freezer as we could eat and had a feast before we left.

We had decided to leave that night around 8 pm or so. They had turned on the contra-flow at that point and we figured not as many people would leave at night.

Again, for those not in the know, a contra-flow is when they make a decision to turn I-55 that starts in LA and runs through MS and beyond, into a 4 lane highway all going north. This is to help evacuees get out of the city as fast as possible.

To be continued....

Later,

Couple of Things

First of all, remember my affair?

Yeah, well, if I didn't have such a crush on this guy as I do, this comment would totally push me over the edge.

He commented on the post below:

"Great makeover, especially the banner. But Mama D, no woman of quality like yourself ever 'needs' the makeover. When Barbara Streisand had her makeover in "The Mirror has Two Faces", I thought that was a cop-out. Jeff Bridges was supposed to fall for the woman she already was."

OMG! How cute is he?!?!?!?!?

I just wanna be like my great aunt Ida (I don't have a great aunt named Ida...I do have one called Aunt Bean, but that just doesn't have the same...punch...as Aunt Ida) and pinch his cheeks and clasp his head to my bosom until he can't breathe any more. He's just that cute.

Second...I'm gonna post date the next several posts.

For a couple of reasons.

The main one being that the subject matter needs several posts to capture it in its entirety. It includes lots of water, several miracles and recovery. And, if you're lucky, pictures.

The other reason being that it's a holiday. I'll be working tomorrow but not Saturday, Sunday or Monday.

Later,

Indelible Creations

Y'all...this is the most awesome person on the face of the earth (at least for this week).

She's the genius behind my makeover.

Aren't I beautiful?

Nod your heads and say "yes, Mama Dawg, you're beautiful" (especially you Trooper Thorn and Lula!).

Say "yes, Mama Dawg, you're the most brilliant person EVER!".

Quit laughing. I thought I'd give it a try.

If you're looking to get all prettified like me, go on over to Indelible Creations and tell her Mama Dawg said "Hi!".

It won't get you anything, but it'd be cool...cause it't make me look like I have lots of bloggie friends.

Later,

Pop Music Was My Beard

Like most, music has always been a part of my life.

It started out with the typical little kids songs. “I’m a Little Teapot”, “You Are My Sunshine”, various vacation bible school sings, etc….

Then, I graduated to records. I had this brown and orange Fisher Price record player that I ADORED! Especially because I had my own Donny and Marie records box to store them in as well as carry them from place to place.


(yes, this is my real record case...I still have it)

Where I carted these records off to, I can’t remember. In fact, I don’t think I ever took them anywhere, but boy, did I have the option to do so if I chose. My mom bought all these religious records (not because we were religious but because…well, I’m not sure why other than maybe because they were kid friendly) and out of all of them, there was really only one that I liked and listened to over and over and over again. It was called “Animals and Other Things’. My favorite songs from this album were “I’m a Galapagos”, “Itty-Bitty Flea”, “Gorilla Walk” and “Livin’ That Givin’ Way”.


(Sigh....I can not believe I'm admitting to having a Chipmunks album...what' s sadder, I actually have two)

I also had several Disney albums. The Main Street Electrical Parade on a 33 as well as Lady and the Tramp and others.


(the most awesome records EVER!!!)

I finally reached the cool status when I got Madonna’s “Like A Virgin” and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”. I practically wore out the albums, I played them so much.


(scratch that...these are the most awesome records EVER!!!)

Then, when I hit the “tween” age, I discovered….oldies.

Yes, I was a closet oldies listener.

It’s my mom’s fault. She had this one album that had like 100 oldies songs on it. It consisted of 4 individual records all with like 25 songs on them. She ordered it off the TV, y’all!!!!! I treated this album with the greatest of care while listening to “Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag” and the “Monster Mash”.

We had this little tiny room in our house that I grew up in that was located right off the living room. It was a combination office/music room. It was where the sound system was located along with all of the albums my mom and dad had. I spent HOURS in there listening to all their albums.

This love for oldies stuck with me all through my…gasp…teen years and beyond!

I used to listen to oldies in my mom’s car whenever we would go somewhere. When I got old enough to drive and got my own car, one of my pre-set buttons was set to an oldies station. During my teen years, if someone would accidentally push this button, I would laugh it off and say I had it set on that station for my mom.

If I was in the car by myself, I would almost always listen to this station. And sing along to EVERY song at the top of my lungs.

I used to listen to my mom’s old tape that had Steppenwolf on it. It was a recording of a recording, but it didn’t matter to me. “Magic Carpet Ride” was the bomb. Even if it was all scratchy.

I used to spend my hard earned cash on Billboard cassette tapes from the years 1955 through 1975. Seriously. That’s where I discovered Tommy Roe singing “Sweet Pea” and “Dizzy”. I adored “Apple, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie” by Jay and the Techniques. Simon and Garfunkel were GODS in my house. “Cecilia”, “Bridge Over Troubled Water” (although Elvis does a better rendition), “Scarborough Fair”, etc…..were my crack.

I only started listening to Elvis when I got older. When I was younger, I couldn’t really appreciate Elvis the way he’s meant to be appreciated. You know, with reverence.

I would listen to pop music when I was with my friends. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVED pop music, but the oldies were what made me sing out loud with a kind of freedom and un-self-awareness that only little kids seem to possess.

As I got older, I started branching out. I opened my mind and accepted Country Music as my savior…for about 3 years. Then I discovered swing music. Cherry Poppin’ Daddies, Royal Crown Revue, The Brian Setzer Orchestra as well as the old stuff…Glenn Miller, The Andrews Sisters (to this day, I still dance my tooshie off to “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy”).

My ex-husband tried to get me into Limp Bizkit and Korn, but like the marriage, it didn’t take.

I then drifted back to pop music but tended to soundtracks.

These days, I incorporate all of the above (except for the ex-husband ones) and feel I have finally reached my musical mecca with my eclectic taste.

And, I finally cop to my love of oldies.

How’s that for growth?

So many of you are probably cringing at my taste, but you know what? I don't care. I am who I am.


(yeah, you needed to see this)

Later,

Hand in the Darkness

Before y’all get all excited and think I’m talking about a spiritual hand in a figurative darkness…I’m not.

I’m talking about a real hand in the real darkness.

I have to start off by saying that I love being a single mother. I think I was made to be a single mother.

When my ex-husband and I were together, after we found out I was pregnant but before we got married, I had one of those deep down thoughts that I would end up being a single mother at some point.

A friend of mine said she thought the same thing.

I knew all along that I should have listened to my instincts and not told my ex that I was even pregnant, let alone get married to him.

But, I was wrong.

That’s not the point.

I love my little girl with all my heart and soul. Really, truly, painfully, joyfully love and adore my little girl. I don’t like to focus on how much I love her because if I do, I could never get anything done. It would make my whole body ache and my mind would be totally consumed with the thoughts of how much I love her.

We have such sweet tender moments together. We also have some fights, but, she’s 8. I’m taking it easy on her for now. I’m storing up for when she’s a teenager!

She says the sweetest things to me sometimes. One of the most reoccurring sweet nothings is her going on and on about my smell. She loves to sleep on my pillow and in my bed because of the lingering smell of me all over them. She likes to sleep in my t-shirts that I’ve recently worn. She loves to walk in the bathroom in the morning after I’ve gotten ready for the day because the bathroom smells like me (my perfume, you idiots, not potty residue!).

She does the sweetest things for me sometime. She’ll draw me some sweet little pictures or write me a story or poem. She’ll clean her room without asking or will fetch me a popcicle.

But, the sweetest thing she does when she’s sleeping in bed with me , that makes me cry in the dark, that makes my heart ache with the thought that my time with her is fleeting, that makes me wish I could start over again so I could enjoy it more…at some point during the night, she’ll reach out and gently, sweetly touch my face with her little hand, just to check to make sure that I’m still there.

Edit:

I had this all typed up and ready to go when I received a phone call from my mom around 11 yesterday morning.

Light of my life came home from school complaining of a stomach ache.

Like a good grandmother, my mom went to go pick her up. When she started asking her things about the ailment, it came out that my daughter was having some sort of anxiety attack. When my mom finally got down to the heart of the matter, it turns out that she had a strong feeling that she was never going to see me again. When she watched me drive away in my car this morning, after I dropped her off at the bus stop across the highway (it was raining, we usually walk over), she had this horrible feeling that she was never going to see me again and it caused her stomach to ache to the point where she came home from school.

When my mom called, I spoke to light of my life on the phone. She was crying pretty badly but when I talked to her, she started calming down. She’s fine now.

While I was on the phone with her, she asked me a curious question. She asked me if I had eaten lunch yet.

I hadn’t and explained as much. She seemed disappointed but said o.k. and we hung up.

I went to lunch like an hour later. When I opened my lunch box (yes, I take a lunch box), inside was a note from her that read:

I (heart) You! And she signed her name.

Between the phone call and this small note, it made me realize exactly HOW MUCH I loved being HER mother.

Later,

Who Would You Do?

Y'all are just waiting with bated breath, aren't you?

I knew it.

Anyway, here you go. Your Monday Morning "Who Would You Do" (book by Susan Segrest).

This one has better choices. The men will like this one.

"You are flying first class and the flight attendants-Christina Aguilera, Kim Cattrall, Jennifer Love Hewitt and Elizabeth Hurley-are first class babes, too. Which of these lovely ladies would you lure into joining the mile-high club?"

*Editor's Note---You HAVE to pick one of the choices. Even if you're a guy and the only choices are guys...same for girls...believe me, there are lots where it's only girls to choose from.

Later,

Award Lovin'...I Has It

I feel like the most popular girl in school...and for a good reason, not the bad one....that I was known for...just kidding.....maybe....yeah, just kidding.

(btw...I know that's not correct grammar up top in my title...if you're a cheezburger or hot dog fan, you'll get that...if not...too bad)

Anyhoo, Katie from Katie Says presented me with this lovely award. It made my day, I tell ya.





But, I feel really, really bad.

See, she presented this to me last week.

And I failed to get this out in a timely fashion.

*hangs head with shame*

I'm really good about getting these up. Usually 'cause I'm so stoked. Just ask LiteralDan. He knows how fast I like to get my awards up.

Katie, forgive me please.

With this awesome award comes some responsibilities.

Here they are:

1. The winner can put the logo on their blog.
2. Link the person you received the award from.
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs.
4. Put links of those blogs on yours.
5. Leave a message on the blogs you have nominated.


However, you guys all know I'm a rule breaker.

Plus, like the same 7 people would get this award.

So, instead, if you're one of my regular readers, feel free to snatch the award right of my page.

Go ahead, I dare ya!

Later,

Tagged

I was tagged by Swirl Girl! Hi, Swirl Girl! How ya' doin'? Is your Saturday going good? Yeah? Good to hear it. Mine's good so far. Of course, it's really Thursday, but I'm using my ESPN to predict that my Saturday's going good. I know that I've eaten something and gone to the bathroom and made something while sitting at the dining room table and....

What? That's not what I'm supposed to be writing about?

Oh, yeah.

I'm supposed to tell you six unspectacular quirks of mine.

So, here we go:


1. I always have to wear 8-9 bracelets on my right arm with all of them being different with the exception of two tribal bracelets I got at Disney’s Animal Kingdom in a shop in the Africa section.

2. I wear mostly silver jewelry. Cause I think gold makes me look ghetto. And not ghetto fabulous, just plain ghetto.

3. When I was real young (7 or 8), my mom got me to stop biting my nails by telling me she’s let me grow them out as long as I wanted to. Big mistake. I looked like Dolly Parton at age 8 (minus the boobs).

4. I get bored so easy. I have to have something occupying my mind at all times. I can’t just sit and meditate or chill out. I have to be reading, making my cords/jewelry/key chains, watching T.V., playing a game, something.

5. The only lotion that works for me is Johnson and Johnson’s Baby Lotion. It’s the only lotion that doesn’t dry out my hands or leaves a greasy residue. So, my hands always smell like a baby’s butt. Well, at least, a clean one.

6. I hate melons. Nope, not boobies. I love them. I’m talking about watermelon, cantaloupe, honeydew, etc….I will gag at the smell. Sucks to live in Mississippi in the summer.

So......now I'm supposed to tell you the rules:

Rules of the game:

1. Link the person who tagged you (yep)

2. Mention the rules on your blog (umm....that's what I'm doing)

3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours (did you not see the whole post above this?)

4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them & leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they have been tagged.

You know what? I think we're gonna skip #4. Cause I just don't feel like doing that whole linky thing. It makes my hand hurt.

If you wanna steal borrow this from me, feel free. It's not mine to start with.

Happy Saturday!

Later,

Bad to the Boots

I've been a bad girl.

I just can't seem to help it.

I have certain TEMPTATIONS.

Occasional DESIRES I can't resist.

Come on, admit it.

Sometimes you do it too.

We can't always be good. Nobody's perfect.

RIGHT?

RIGHT?

I go a little fast sometimes.

Not too fast.

What's too fast?

I haven't gotten a speeding ticket since I was 17.

I've been pulled over before for other things,

but if you bat your eyes,

say sweet things,

& show the officer your...

um...

BOOTS,

then you can sometimes leave

with just a warning.

If you had nice boots, you'd show them off too.

Really.

I know you would.

It's a good thing he didn't look in the backseat...

or he would have seen my ALIENS!

Or just a mom who thinks her kids ARE ALIENS!!

And, thank goodness, he didn't look inside my purse...

Or he would have found my illegal contraband...

that I was planning on sneaking into the movie

with my boots and my aliens.

When I told my husband, Texas Home Boy, this story,

He said, "You can't take your own candy into a movie!"

What?!


Come on, we all have to BEND the rules a little, right?!

Tell me you're bad sometimes.

(I'm guest blogging for Mama Dawg today!

Normally you can find me at Texas Word Tangle!)

Friday Foto Finish Fiesta

What the hell?



Oh, HI!



This was my mom, being funny. For some reason, this cracked me up.

If you wanna play along, head on over to Candid Carrie's to play!


Later,

Mea Culpa

My friend Tracey wrote about her love of the Olympics. Many, many other bloggers that I read (*cough, cough, Trooper Thorn, cough, cough*) on a daily basis have also written about their love for the Olympics.

I hate the Olympics.

Or, I should say, I hated the Olympics.

During various times over the years when I would have to stay with my paternal grandmother, if the Olympics were on, she would FORCE me to watch them with her. I grew to hate ice skating and track and well, just all of it.

When I say hate, I really should have written it HATE!#%$&*$!

I would get nauseous whenever it was that time.

Since I’ve stopped spending time with her (due mostly to the fact that she’s deceased and that I haven't spoken to my father's side of the family since I was 19), I stopped watching the Olympics and screamed at the gods when they would come on because they would interrupt my regularly scheduled programming and we could just.not.have.that.

So, I missed out on all the Olympic goodies that have happened over the last 20 years or so. I actually went to Atlanta the year the Olympics were being held there. I got a little stuffed Olympic mascot. My dad and stepmother bought it for me. I really didn’t want it but hey, free stuff.

I swore up and down that I wasn’t going to watch it this year.

And I was good. I didn’t catch the opening ceremonies. I didn’t watch the first couple of days.

My mom has it on 24/7 because she’s retired and cool bored. She likes watching them (although I’ve never known her to watch them before) and keeps up with it pretty much.

But, I got sucked in to the whole “Phelpsing” aspect of it. (Thanks to Trooper Thorn for coining that phrase…pass it on people, pass it on).

I had to see what the fuss was all about. While waiting for him to swim again, they would show the ladies volleyball.

Wow….that was freakin’ awesome! Those ladies rock! They took home the GOLD last night. I sooooo want to be Misty May (I know she has another last name, I just like saying Misty May). If I could pick someone to switch teams for, it would be a toss up between her and Angelina Jolie.

And then....they showed the “phelpsing” portion of the Olympics.

I was hooked.

Like a grouper or a shark or an old shoe.

Totally hooked.

I got so jazzed waiting with bated breath to see if he could indeed pull it off.

And he did.

And I yelled so loud, I scared the cat off the couch.

Now, I’m in withdrawals.

I need my Phelps and Torres and Misty May and Nastia.

I can’t get into track that much. I ran it in high school, but really, except for the sprints, it’s pretty boring. (and that Usain Bolt is driving me batty)

Anyway, I freely admit that I was wro…..wait, before I say that, technically, I’m not wrong.






I just changed my mind.

Later,

My Affair

Y’all. I’m having an affair.

Seriously.

All the signs are there if you look closely.

I talk to him constantly.

I talk ABOUT him constantly.

I laugh at all his jokes.

I’ve taken an avid interest in his hobbies.

I’ve complimented him.

I’ve told others about him.

Do you want me to tell you about him?

You do?

O.k.

He’s a good-lookin’ fella.

He’s separated (y’all stop hatin’ me right now…it’s fine).

He’s got kids.

He has a pet crow.

He’s brilliant.

He’s talented.

He makes me laugh.

He has small feet but long toes (don't even get me started on the mental images this conjures up).

He’s………

(y’all haven’t guessed by now?)

……Trooper Thorn…of Dogs and Jeans.

Are you guys reading him?

He’s brilliant! I mean, seriously, he’s got writing chops like nobody I know.

Yeah, yeah, people talk about Black Hockey Jesus this and LiteralDan that, but this guy…he ROCKS!

The way he strings words together…he blows me away.

He’s recently written post after post about the Olympics. Y’all have seen me link to him at the top of my blog.

He writes about his dog on drugs.

He writes about a maniacal pet crow who likes to take baths from a water hose.

He writes about coloring…yes, with crayons.

He writes about spam...and not the meat, well, at least not the kind that comes in a can.

He writes about his kids coining a term for the combination of genitals. Yes, you read that right.

He writes about Phelpsing.

He writes about teen-age girls...not that way, you pervs.

He writes about camping bimbos. And unfortunately, no pics. Next, time, right Trooper?

Guys, if you aren’t reading him, you should be. He will make you laugh, he will make you think, he WILL entertain you.

In addition to his regular blog, he has also written a screenplay that Hollywood has yet to pick up. I think it’s because he got it off to the wrong people. If he could get this in Judd Apatow’s hands, imagine the possibilities.

He posts each episode under the blog name “Dialing Under the Influence”. Go, read, comment, critique (he doesn’t mind), love.

And, if you like him, pass the love along. Link to him, blogroll him, send the link to the screenplay to your cousins best friends ex-husbands psychiatrists sisters gay lover who knows Judd.

You won’t be sorry.

Later,

Blog Etiquette

Ok, I gotta talk about this for just a minute.

I’ve been seeing this on several blogs while making the rounds and I still can’t get a good answer.


Like most people, I love comments. However, I like the content of comments more than the numbers. Not to say that I don’t mind the numbers reaching the double digits but I like getting feedback on what I’ve written. Whether is critique, a response or a shared thought, I don’t care.

My main goal in leaving comments is to provide feedback to the author and/or share something with them. It’s not so that they come back to my blog to read me (that’s just a bit of lagniappe).

My beef is WHERE do you respond to comments?

I’ve gotten input where people say to go to that persons blog and post your response on their last post.

I’ve gotten input where people say to respond to all comments in your own post periodically.

Who’s right? I mean, I don’t want to lose readers or potential readers because of improper etiquette.

I tend to go with comment on my own post because I can keep track of who I’ve commented to and what I said. In addition, I know WHAT I’m posting about.

If I start going to others blogs to comment on theirs and I leave a comment on their most recent post, I’m not gonna remember that I responded to them and they might not remember what I’m responding to.

See my dilemma?

If someone comes to my blog to leave a comment about a comment I left on THEIR blog, I sometimes read it and go WTF? Then I have to make the time to go back and read what I wrote to them on their blog. (exception…Trooper Thorn. He’s very good about commenting on your post AND responding to your comment on his post).

Granted, that gets them another hit on their stat counter, but it’s confusing for me.

So, again, who’s right? What is the proper procedure?

Leave me a comment. (sorry, couldn’t resist!)

Later,

Who Would You Do?

It's Monday! Time for another round of Who Would You Do? (book by Susan Segrest)

You are in the middle of a hot'n'heavy sex session with, er, yourself when in walk Angela Landsbury, Debbie Reynolds and Billy Graham. "I can explain," you stammer, trying to come up with a perfectly reasonable justification as to why your pants are around your ankles. But it's no use. Who would you rather have been caught by?

By the way, my iPod chose that moment to play "Dirty Little Secret" by the All American Rejects. How apropos.

*Editor's Note---You HAVE to pick one of the choices. Even if you're a guy and the only choices are guys...same for girls...believe me, there are lots where it's only girls to choose from.

Later,

Correction

I have no clue why the Harry Potter trailer posted twice. I actually told youtube to do this LAST WEEK and for some reason, it posted yesterday...twice.

Forgive me.

I was gonna delete them but since you guys left comments, I'll let it stand.

Later,

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince Trailer

I am so ready for this to come out. I got chills watching this.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince Trailer

Oooohhhh....I got chills. I am sooooooooo ready for this one.

Oh, the Habits of Hobbits

So, I took a long hard look in the mirror the other day and came to a decision.

I’m a Hobbit.

Yes, you read that right. I’m a Hobbit. Most likely related to Samwise Gamgee. Partly because I have that same sense of self-entitlement that Sean Astin seems to have. But mostly because of his self-determination to complete the task no matter what.

However, this post is not about self-determination. It’s about me resembling a Hobbit.

For those of you not in the know, a Hobbit is a mythical creature that lives in the Shire or, as Peter Jackson imagines it, New Zealand.

In doing some Hobbit research on Wikipedia (don’t you just love Wikipedia?), I was startled to find many, many similarities between myself and the Hobbits.

Observe, if you will.

1. Fattish in the stomach…um…check! Yeah, like most Americans out there, I could stand to lose a few…or twenty. Oh, who am I kidding. Thirty. Yes, I said it, thirty. Now, shut up and go back to eating your Ho-Ho’s and Krispie Kremes you bastards.

2. Hair is short, curling and brown…check! Well, at least the short and brown part. I can make it curly if I try, but I’m too damn lazy. The laziness could explain why I can associate with #1.

3. Big feet with hair...check! Yeah, I can associate. I wear a size 9. That makes for some slim pickins when it comes to cute shoes. And again, due to laziness, I don’t always take care of the minuscule very few hairs that show up on the feet. Seriously, who cares? I don’t want to know why someone would want to look at feet anyway. Unless that’s what gets you off. And if that’s the case, you’re at the wrong blog.

4. Leather soles…check! As a child, I lived BAREFOOT and never, ever, ever got ringworm or cuts or stings. I even extended this habit into my teen years living in Florida. Yeah, I was that psycho that ran to get the mail across the street BAREFOOT on hot asphalt in Central Florida in August. Never felt a thing.

5. Adept at throwing stones…check! Yep, I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I’ve been known to throw stones. And I’m not speaking literally. I’m working on it, though.

6. Comes of age at age 33…check! Here’s a link to the post I did about growing up. I feel like I’m just now making it to adulthood…at age 31.

7. Eats 6 meals a day…check! Hobbits eat breakfast, elevenses, lunch, tea, dinner and supper. I eat breakfast, elevenses, lunch, snack, dinner and then dessert. This could also explain my association with #1.

8. They eat bread, meat, potatoes, cheese and have a passion for mushrooms…check! I love my starches and meats. I especially love vegetables. Again, see #1.

9. They like to give away gifts…check! That’s my favorite part of gift giving holidays and birthdays. I LOVE to give.

10. They give presents many times over…check! Yes, I’m guilty of re-gifting. Constantly. Hey, give me a break…I’m poor. And I really, really, really don’t like getting angel statues or smelly lotions or body washes for gifts. So, I do what any good poor single working mother does. I re-gift. Now, leave me alone.

11. They live in hillsides and holes…check! I’m southern. It’s not unheard of for southerners to live in bunkers and homes that should be classified as hole in the walls.

When you look over this list and really give it some thought, you’ll come to the same conclusion as me…I’m a Hobbit.

Good thing, too, cause I got the hots for Frodo.



Later,

Friday Foto Finish Fiesta

For one of the first FFFF's Carrie held, I posted the pic below.

I thought it was funny that my mother (who loves Disney World, maybe not as much as I do, but nevertheless, still loves it) would do a crossword puzzle in the Happiest Place On Earth.

I had forgotten about the funnyness (funniness, funnieness?) of this picture until I came across it again.



This is my mother doing a crossword puzzle at Disney World while waiting on my daughter and I to get back from riding that horrendous ride of rides...Dumbo.

Then it got even funnier when I saw this other picture.



This is my daughter working on a "Spot the Differences" puzzle in the same puzzle book. She's not pretending to do these either. She LOVES puzzle books. Especially ones that aren't "kiddie" ones.



Then I stumbled on this one of her writing in a journal while I (her slave for the trip) pushed her around in a stroller. Yes, she's 7 and riding in a stroller. You try doing Epcot while having short legs. You'd be begging for a stroller, too!

I think, I'm not sure, but I think that my mother and daughter can claim one another as blood relatives. Ya think?

If you wanna play along, head on over to Candid Carrie's for more Friday Foto Finish Fiesta Fun!


Later,

Click Here! Click Here! Click Here!

First of all, thanks to all those who gave me some ideas. I'm not doing a real post today because I'm busy checking these out.

About 30% (rough estimate) of the ones that you guys recommended, I've already checked out and either discarded or check out periodically but don't have on my blogroll.

The rest, I'm working my way through.

So, instead of a real post today, I'm gonna share with you guys some posts that I've read today that are making me either Laugh Out Loud or Cringe or Almost Shit My Pants.

So, without further ado (adieu, aaadooooo? Who knows?) may I present:

Cary at List of the Day has 2, count 'em 2, that are making me laugh so hard I could cry.

7 Deadly Sins Tandems

and

Party Pictures of the Day (warning: nudity and not always the good kind)

Trooper Thorn over at Dogs and Jeans (see sidebar for link to entire blog) has great commentary on the current Olympic Scandal (the young Chinese gymnasts)

Paedomorphism versus Neoteny in Chinese Gymnastics (don't let the big words scare you off)

and

Part 9 of Dialing Under the Influence is up and running. Great screenplay. Please go check this out.

Jen over at Two Knit Monkeys share with you the adventures of two monkeys going cave diving.

Munkey Spelunkey

Halushki has a wonderful summertime story...since sarcasm doesn't translate well on blogs, the "wonderful" part of this sentence is sarcastic. She's too busy praying to the patron saint of Jamaica that her mother in law doesn't have a different cell phone number. Just read the post to understand that.

Creek Glass

That's all I got for today.

Read and enjoy! If you comment, tell 'em I sent ya!

Later,

I Need New Blogs To Read

Yeah, you read that right.

I need some new ones to read.

I'm not tired of the old ones, I just need some new ones to add to the ones I already have.

So, give 'em to me.

Drop me some links or whatnot in my comments.

I don't care if they're "popular" or just regular old folks like you and me. I just need some new ones to add.

FYI-I don't do "mommy" bloggers. If I don't know the kids personally, I don't wanna read about someone's baby spitting up green stuff today but pooping blue stuff 2 hours later.

I read lots of blogs that happen to have mothers as the authors, but that doesn't qualify them as mommy bloggers. I don't care if you're a mother as long as you write some non-kid posts.

You can take a look at the right side of my blog to see what kinds of blogs I'm interested in. That might give you some ideas.

Thanks for doing all my work for me!

Later,

Harry Potter-Thon

It's that time again! If you wanna play, head on over to Daily Mish Mash to either play or just read some great movie related posts!




So, I’m on a Harry Potter kick right now. I have no clue where it came from, but when I finished my last book, I had the urge to dive in to the Harry Potter series again. I’ve read every book at least twice. Some I’ve read more than 4 times.

I’m a Harry Potter geek. However, me being me, I’m really only a half geek. I know a lot of facts about the Harry Potter series. Seriously, I know a lot. However, after years of reading the books and watching the movies and reading online, I realize that there’s a lot that I don’t know about the Harry Potter series. And I’m OK with that. That’s not what this post is about.

Last week, when I was in the middle of the book Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, I looked over at my daughter and asked her if she wanted to have a Harry Potter-thon. I explained to her, in response to her blank look, that that means we’d watch all 5 of the Harry Potter movies, back to back to back…well, you get the point. She enthusiastically agreed and the plan was set. We’d start them on Friday night and just watch til we couldn’t watch any more.

Then, to our surprise, my mom said she’d like to join us.

Now, my mom’s a big reader. In fact, all the books in the corner of my room that I haven’t read yet (all 200+ of them) are from her.

However, her taste in books doesn’t run to the fantastical. She likes grounded, real type books. The most “supernatural” or “fantastical” she gets is reading books by Dean Koontz or Stephen King. Otherwise, she doesn’t read it. No matter the rave reviews.

She hasn’t read the Harry Potter series yet but stated that she wanted to delve in to them at some point during her retirement.

I know my mom. I know that she will not get into the series (books or movies) but I gently push her to try them hoping that I’m wrong.

As much as I hate that she was going to watch the movies before reading the books, I gave her a big smile and told her “Great!”.

Friday night rolls around. We had decided to make it an appetizer night. You know, mini egg rolls, pot stickers, pizza rolls, chicken quesadilla rolls, etc…with all their sauces and some I mixed together for dipping.

I had been looking forward to this night for DAYS. I was so excited about this Potter-thon.

Well, as you can possibly guess, anytime you get THAT excited about something, it becomes sort of a letdown.

Light of my life kept asking me to pause the movie so she could pee/get dessert/get something else to drink/go to her room to get something/ask for a blanket/etc…..

Due to all the starting and stopping, my mom got frustrated and that led to her having these “looks” on her face whenever I would sneak a peek at her during the movie. I knew by those “looks” that she wasn’t getting into the movies. Of course, that made me more anxious. I then started stopping and starting the movie to explain to her about Neville’s parents and who Voldemort is and why Harry has a scar and why he lives with the Dursley’s.

About halfway through, mom decided she had enough and got up saying “I just don’t know where my fantasy gene is” and went to bed.

Light of my life and I finished the first movie and went on to bed after that.

On Saturday night, after my daughter got back from a late afternoon birthday party, we popped in #2 and watched most of it before we both fell asleep on the couch.

Yesterday afternoon, after lunch, we popped in #2 to finish it and managed to watch #’s 3 & 4 and start #5.

I had forgotten what a hottie Daniel Radcliffe was until I watched him grow up in these movies. I also didn’t realize how hot George and Fred Weasley were in the last two movies. When did that happen? And then, I discovered that the actor that played Cedric Diggory in the Goblet of Fire is none other than our own "Edward Cullen" in the Twilight movie that comes out in December. I can remember thinking Viktor Krum was much hotter than Cedric but I've since changed my mind. Yes, not only am I a twelve year old boy inside, but I'm also a boy-crazy 14 year old girl. Shut up.

I love watching these movies over and over again because I always learn something new each time.

For instance, in the Chamber of Secrets, when Harry uses Floo Powder for the first time, he slurs his words and Diagon Alley comes out Diagonalley. When my mom heard it, she said “Why did he say diagonally?” and a light bulb went on above my head. What a play on words.

And Knockturn Alley…where it’s the “darker” side of the magical world….could be considered “nocturnally”.

Is that not the coolest thing? I haven’t done any research on the internets to find out if this was intentional or just a happy coincidence, but considering the Genius That Is J.K. Rowling, I find it hard to believe that it’s anything but intentional.

Anyway, to wrap up this silly and very un-important post, despite the setbacks of the first night, we’ve had a blast watching our way through most of the 5 movies. Tonight, we’ll finish up (or at least watch until 9pm) the rest of The Order of the Phoenix.

Tonks, how I love you. You rock!

Later,

Mama Dawg

Who Would You Do?

It's Monday, dawg!

Again, an "interesting" question brought to you by Susan Segrest, author of "Who Would You Do?".

Would you rather lick Cheez Whiz off Danny DeVito's bare body or give Howard Stern a nude lap dance on national television?

*Editor's Note---You HAVE to pick one or the other. Even if you're a guy and the only choices are guys...same for girls...believe me, there are lots where it's only girls to choose from.

Later,

Mama Dawg

This Award Is Dedicated To The Underprivileged & Malnourished Sea Monkeys of Estonia

Oh, man, this is the coolest thing! I've gotten another award! I love getting these. Especially since I'm such a shy pers...yeah, I couldn't finish that without snickering, either.

The brains (I like to call her MAW) behind Unmitigated bestowed upon me the award you see below.




Do you know any bloggers that kick ass?

Maybe they've got incredible, original content. Or they're overflowing with creativity. Is it someone that helps you become a better blogger? Or a bloggy friend you know you can count on? Or maybe it's someone who simply inspires you to be a better person... or someone else who sends you to the floor, laughing your ass off.

Whatever the reason may be, I'm sure you know at least a couple of bloggers that kick ass.

Well... why not tell 'em so?

Man, oh, man...I gotta award this to 5 people.

Hmmmm....LiteralDan already got one...and by the way...neener, neener LiteralDan...I got mine up first. *phbtttttt*

Ok, here we go:

1. Happy Hour Sue over at Happy Meals and Happy Hour: Dude, you gotta go lay eyes on her Bathtub Gangsta! He's the Mack Daddy of all Mack Daddies. And yes, I just dated myself by using the words "mack daddy".

2. Bernardo and Guillermo over at Two Knit Monkeys: I never get tired of monkey farts...ever.

3. Weith Kick at, well, Weith Kick: If I counted all the times I've nearly swallowed my gum or spit water out at my computer screen after reading something he's written, well, I'd have almost pooped a Big League Chew's worth of gum and my computer might be fried. He's hysterical!

4. Sassy Stephanie over at Our Piece of Quiet: She rocks my comments hard! I feel like we're bloggie soul sistas or something. Or, not. Whatev.

5. Chris over at Weather Moose: Cause he grants me permission to quote him ALL THE TIME on my blog. He's just so quotable and so cute as a girl.

Go forth and dispense at your leisure and pleasure and other "sures" words.

Happy Friday, y'all!

Later,

Mama Dawg

Friday Foto Finish Fiesta

I don't know why I find this picture so fascinating, but I do. Maybe because of the obviousness of it all.



This was taken at my daughter's 8th birthday party this past year. These are some petit fours from Gambino's down in N'awlins. Yummmy yum yum.

If you wanna play, head on over to Carrie's!

If you want some more un-pc fun, head on over to LOTD!
Later,

Mama Dawg

Back, Back, Back to School Again

Oh, my.

I am officially the mother of a third grader.

How did this happen? Where did the time go? Just yesterday I was helping her take off the tops of the Play-Doh cans and wiping snot off her upper lip. Today, I sent her off to third grade and was refused when asked if I needed to help her get ready for her first day.

When did I become a mother? How did I become a mother? No, sillies, I know HOW I became a mother. If I recall, it was a rather spectacular drunken evening in an apartment on the West Bank around 2ish or so. On my birthday. For reals.

I never thought I’d have kids.

Not because I didn’t want them. But because of Bo White and an old wives tale.

I grew up in Jackson, MS during the 80’s. Why do you need to know I’m an 80’s child? Well, this way, it’s not so shocking to you to find out that I ran all over the neighborhood UNSUPERVISED and without a CELL PHONE to keep track of me.

I lived in the suburbs. My neighborhood was a wonderful place to grow up. I truly had a terrific childhood. So normal and fun and…..just perfect.

There were a bunch of kids in my ‘hood that were of all ages, but most of us were within a couple of years of each other.

My best friends growing up were Amy Wooten and Chad Hartzog. However, all of us rarely hung out together. Cause you know, Amy was a girl and Chad was a boy. And I, well, I was a tomboy. I liked Barbies as well as bikes.

There were other characters in our ‘hood. And one of them was Bo White.

He was a mean little bastard. I can’t even remember what he looked like. All I remember was dirty…dirty blonde hair, dirty fingernails, dirty feet and a dirty mouth. He could out-cuss Chad and that’s saying A LOT! I mean, Chad said words like “damn and shit”. Bo took it further… he said * whispering * the “F” word. Gasp!!!

So you can get a visual of my ‘hood, our little row of houses (not to be confused with row houses)backed up to another row of houses. Our backyards were separated by a ditch that ran through most of the neighborhood. Of course, it was our favorite place to play…in this ditch. I mean, it had craw-daddies, minnows, rocks, mud, etc….how can one resist?

Bo White’s house (I just like to call him by his whole name, it’s funnier that way) backed up to our next door neighbor’s house (the one with all the honeysuckle that grew on their fence that we cleaned out as soon as they were “ready” to “eat”…if you’re from the South …Lula…you know what I mean!). So, his house was just to the left of mine.

Normally, if we wanted to visit friends on the other side of the ‘hood, all we had to do was cut through someone’s yard (this was before the proliferation of fenced in backyards…not that that would have stopped us) and we arrived on the other side of the ‘hood. Easy peasy.

However, for some reason, we decided to take the long way to get to Rachel’s house this particular day.

This involved having to walk past Bo White’s house. If you think Bo White sounds bad, you never met his mother. I can remember hoping that the she-devil would not be outside when we walked past.

As we got closer to his house, we could see a big pile of….stuff….on the curb. It looked like a mixture of lawn debris and trash and stuff that you find under the couch that was recognizable at one time but has since deteriorated into something…else.

We breathed a sigh of relief when we didn’t spot anyone outside of Bo White’s house. As we got closer to the pile o’shit, I had the brilliant idea to poke my foot at some of the stuff to see if anything moved or screamed or jumped out at us.

Right as my foot touched the pile o’shit, Bo White comes running out of the house screaming, “Don’t touch that…it’s dangerous. If it gets on you, you can’t have babies and your hair will fall out and your teeth will rot!” (swear to God, that’s what he said, it’s forever etched in my memory)

Being the tough tomboy I am, I told him “You’re a liar Bo White and you’ll be struck down dead for saying something like that” and we continued on our merry way.

However, on the inside, I was not all calm, cool and collected as I appeared to be on the outside. Inside I was screaming and crying and worrying like only a little girl who’s only dream is to have babies can.

That little bastard cursed me. He RUINED my life. I was never gonna grow up and get married (cause who would want a girl who couldn’t have babies?) and have babies and stay home and raise ‘em and take ‘em to the library and the park and…and…and…

I never told anyone about what he said or how it affected me…until today.

It took a few years to realize that he was full of that stuff that he had piled out in front of his house. By that time, I discovered that I still had my hair and even though some of my teeth had fallen out, they were supposed to and they weren’t rotten.

When I was a “tween”, I heard an old wives tale that if you jumped from high places too much, it messed up your “girly” inside parts and could cause you not to have babies due to all the trauma from the jumping.

Yeah, I was told this long after I had been jumping off of walls and out of trees and off of roofs for YEARS!

I just knew I wasn’t going to be able to have babies. EVER. And I was sad about that…for all of 15 minutes until I saw Justin Westervelt in the hallway and promptly forgot about babies and messed up ovaries. But it always stayed in the back of my mind. You know, that place in the back of your mind where you still believe in werewolves and ghosts and Michael Myers?

Of course, how was I to know that in 1999, I was going to get knocked up by a Marine and have the most wonderful, beautiful, magical, spectacular girl on the face of the Earth?

You know what’s really funny/sad? When I found out I was pregnant…one of my first thoughts (after “Oh, shit” and “Oh, cool”) was “Eat it, Bo White and old wives tale! Look at me now!”

Yeah, cause I’m tough like that.

Later,

Mama Dawg

Perceptions

So….I was e-mailing back and forth with my neighbor yesterday regarding my post for Kathy’s contest that has lesbian connotations to it and the post I did this past Thursday about all the willies up in my grill and how they contradict each other but also might give people who don't know me mixed ideas on my sexuality…and it got me to thinking about perception on blogs.

I can’t speak for others, but I feel that my on-line persona and my real life persona are different. How different? I don’t know. You’d have to ask my neighbors and my friends. Maybe even my family if you knew them.

I mean…I think I’m somewhat funny and interesting and a few of you guys must believe that, too, based on your comments and e-mails.

I know I’m no great writer, but I don’t think I’m necessarily a bad one. I mean, I try to do grammar and spelling checks (above and beyond what blogspot or Microsoft word does) and I try to make sure that what I write makes sense. It doesn’t always but I’m fine with that.

However, I rarely bring any of this to the table in my real life. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe because my sense of humor doesn’t really “mesh” with people I know in real life. The ones who “get” me or “appreciate” me and my humor are the ones out in blogland. Is this because there’s a greater pool of admirers to work with or is it because I just don’t connect with people in my own life?

Not only do I wonder about the above question, but also, what do people out there in blogland think of ME? I’m not talking about giving someone lip service and saying things like “Oh, I just love your blog. You’re cute and funny and blah, blah, blah”. I’m talking about what you guys REALLY think of me.

Do you feel that I’m “real” or “fake”? Do you feel that I’m funny or boring? Do you feel that I’m a hottie or a nottie? (just kidding on that last one…I really don’t want to know the answer to that because I really don’t care).

Do I even put enough out there for anyone to make judgements?

I sometimes feel like I don’t put enough out there. I mean, I read all these great blogs that have thought provoking posts and blogs that really share their deep innermost thoughts.

I hate to tell you guys, but I just don’t have that in me. Not so much the energy or the time to put into post like that, but I JUST DON’T HAVE THAT IN ME. I’m not a deep thinker. I don’t take a lot of stuff in life seriously. I live in my own little warped world and I occasionally visit others.

I wish I had more to give, but I rarely do. I have lots of stuff that’s happened to me that’s both good and bad but I don’t feel the need to share. Some of the stuff is unbelievable and other stuff is plain boring.


Speaking of unbelievable….How much of what’s written in blogland is real and what is fake? In addition, what’s a mixture of both? How far do you take it in your own blog?

For me, my blog is about 99% accurate. I say that because of the story for Kathy’s contest but also because I’ve been known to add a detail here or there to make the post just a smidge funnier or edgier.

I’ve not outright lied on my blog…not that I can remember. Nor do I feel the overwhelming need to, despite my little boring life where nothing of notable interest occurs.

I know that Black Hockey Jesus (if you’re not reading this guy…just make your way over there with your head hung in shame…he’s seriously funny) has a disclaimer on his blog stating something to the effect that the names and events in his blog are fictitious so you know to read the blog with a grain of salt. However, that same disclaimer states that the disclaimer is fictitious, so it makes for a real head scratcher.

I know that there are many others that write from the heart and really tell the truth, no matter what.

But there are others out there that I feel make up stuff on their blogs to entertain but classify it as “real” or at least don’t own up to the fictitious stuff.

No, I’m not going into examples or calling anyone out. That’s not what this is about. And before anyone thinks it or says it in the comments…not this is not about the blogland drama that went on recently. It’s just a small example of what I’m talking about.

My last question about all this is…does it really matter? In the big grand scheme of things, does it really matter?

Later,

Mama Dawg

P.S. Just so you guys know, this is the most time I’ve EVER spent on a post.