Archive for December, 2008

Inspired by the previous post:

The Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz, Oh what a relief it is Alka Seltzer Snow Globe.  It defies gravity. Is the snowing falling down or bubbling up?

The Alka Seltzer Snow Globe

The “Can you smell me now?” Verizon Cologne made for the everyday white middle aged man.

Verizon Cologne Can you smell me now?

The O.J. Simpson monogrammed towel set.  For drying off and cleaning up.



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Inventive Snowglobes


Made by: Kent Rogowski found on: http://pleasesirblog.blogspot.com


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Holiday Visitors & Etsy

Two weeks ago, I was informed the In-Laws arrive Saturday the 13th.

Mother and Father-in-law, that is.

Spending the weekend in San Francisco.

Time to paint the walls, go on that juice-fast-starvation diet, bleach teeth, and wear facial masks every night.

Oh and my roots need color and the Ikea shelves need to be hung.

Time was against me. Total home and body makeover not gunna happen.

Plan B: hide imperfections

Google search…

“Fashion curvy body”

“Home Improvement without spending money”

“Hairdos to hide roots”

Sorry Google but the results were pretty lame.

But honestly Google it wasn’t your fault. I wanted miracles.

Plan C: Shower them with gifts

One look at my bank account and this plan ended.

Plan D: Since perfection is impossible,

and you are too poor to buy love,

and hiding is not only time consuming but somethings are just too obvious to hide,

how about just be yourself and clean up your place.  Cleaning is good and myself is good. Plan D, doable.

I resigned to the path of sanity.

Reality asked to be accepted.  This once, I said okay.

And now I just want to have some fun.

In celebration of family, I present you with the following Etsy finds:

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Maybe your parents were happily married, or maybe your Mom watched a lot of t.v. to escape from her loveless marriage.  And maybe you knew where to find her, based on the day of week and time of day.  Maybe, like me, your Mom had crushes on men with big hair.  And maybe your Dad was just a little too square.

MacGyver & The Hoff

MacGyver & The Hoff

Magnum P.I.

Magnum P.I.

Neil Diamond

Neil Diamond

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Weekly Awards

The illustration with a smirk award goes to: “The Atlantic : Obama’s Tech-Savvy Campaign” illustrated by http://www.patrick-leger.com/


My favorite look award goes to “Dos and Don’ts” from http://www.viceland.com


The tender as a kitten award goes to: “Could Be An Organ Donor” from http://www.patrickmoberg.com/


The guilty pleasure award goes to “Jack Black as Jesus” in Prop 8 the Musical from http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/c0cf508


My favorite revenge post goes to “Dear Coworker, you ate a cheeseburger again today” from http://www.thelilbee.com/


I know this because I sit in close proximity to you, and because my desk is adjacent to the men’s bathroom …. to read more go to http://www.thelilbee.com

The creepy photo award goes to:  “Dolly Death Camp” (a.ka. Chucky’s Grandchild) from http://149sullivanstreet.blogspot.com/


The totally addictive with possibly no side effects award goes to “Post Secret” at http://postsecret.blogspot.com.



The don’t tell me that after the last few years of individuating, rebelling and freaking out you still don’t have a mind of your own award goes to Britney Spears courtesy of the http://thesuperficial.com .


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This morning with coffee, scarf and leather gloves, moving in same direction to same destination…


I felt as if I was going to cry.  You know the sensation. Your stomach is suddenly in your throat.


I traced my thoughts …

“What should I post on my blog?”

“Was that puke on the sidewalk?”

“I want to write about that person, no too dangerous too much drama”

“These jeans feel tight”

“I wish I wasn’t insecure”

“Was that a drug deal?”


The thoughts went on.  I thought about why I started blogging.

I quit my job.  Good decision.  Job was hell. Life has improved tremendously. I am broke. I started fostering teeny tiny motherless kittens.  Lots of poop and lots of wildly tender kitten love.


I started drawing.  My husband encouraged me to draw.  He encouraged me to blog.  Number one fan.


I thought bloggers were weird.  Desperate for attention.  Embarrassed to join the order of the publicly needy,  I searched for bloggers possessing a restraint against utter self-indulgence.  They weren’t hard to find. I even found blogs I indentified with. Shocking.

http://lolaisbeauty.blogspot.com/, http://cheramibird.blogspot.com/, http://www.smosch.com/, http://scout-holiday.com/blog/, http://campcomfort.blogspot.com/, http://kindraishere.blogspot.com/, etc.

I thought about people.  My mom and her pirated inheritance.  She took what wasn’t hers to take and ran. Disappointing but expected.  She’s just doing what she’s always done.


And then, a thought I have quite often rethought itself. People are both incomprehensible and predictable.   The conversation with my husband last night, we talked about people that believe they’ve got all the answers to the biggest unknown questions about life.  Really?  Because nobody knows. I mean nobody really knows, right?  It gets personal when they think their answers should be mine (or ours).


I laughed when I pictured myself giving unsolicited advice.   Lecturing, pontificating, or “challenging” as some folks I know like to call it.

The thought was both gross and hysterically funny.

Me? I barely get life for me.   And I’ve been hanging with me for thirty years.

Self-righteous people make me itchy.

But I judge (superficially and morally).

I even take pleasure in predicting the next thing (certain) people are going to do or say.  I think a lot of people are boring.

So what’s the difference?  Does my judgment equal the weight of theirs?  Would we balance the scales?


My brain scrambling up thoughts about right vs. wrong,  finger pointing and blame.  Yuck.  I dislike the finger pointing game.  It’s endless. A trap.

I stood waiting for the light to turn.

Nothing new entering my mind, nothing different walking home.

I unlocked the gate knowing I would continue to hangout with people who value what I value.  Originality, introspection, equality …. just in case you were wondering :).

I will do what I love and hope others are choosing to do the same.

In the deepest most stable part of my heart.

In the deepest most stable part of my heart.


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Ok, so making fun of emos has gotten popular these days.  Let’s face it, emos are easy targets and they are pretty much harmless.  After all, they are self-loathing and lazy.  Seriously, how much work does it take to put on a little eyeliner? Now goths and punks on the other hand show true commitment to their exterior statement. But emos?

Indulge me for a moment… but what’s with the reigning king of emo?  He seems like a poser to me.  I mean he married Ashlee Simpson and is fathering her child.   Isn’t her Dad a psycho Christian pervert from the South?  It would be one thing if they rebelled against old Joe Simpson but they don’t, he is still her manager. I just don’t get what is so alternative about Pete Wentz-Simpson?  I have to say it, the Fall Out Boy is not a rogue or eccentric pioneering musical influence or any shade of rebel. The dude was on the cover of Out Magazine with the headline “Yep, I am a fag” and later he said “it’s all because I know that I am going to get a reaction” and that he is sexually attracted to men but only from the waist up.  I don’t get it.  That doesn’t even make sense.  He just seems silly to me.  Is this what has happened to our rock icons? Remember Bowie?  Remember the Stones (pre-hab) or Michael Jackson (pre-Neverland)?

With all that being said I can actually relate to the emo world.  I mean I liked Sunny Day Real Estate and Shudder to Think.  Didn’t everyone like the first Jimmy Eat World song they heard?  And I’ve had my share of moody days.  I also have bangs and I wear black eyeliner.

In an effort to establish truce between myself and the emos of the world, I offer:

The EMO Career Guide : careers to consider as an alternative to starting your own band.

Inspired by Pete Wentz

CHAPTER ONE: Emo the Yodeler


CHAPTER TWO : Emo the Magician


CHAPTER THREE: Emo the Belly Dancer


CHAPTER FOUR: Emo the Bearded Snake Charmer


CHAPTER FIVE: Emo the Mime


CHAPTER SIX: Emo the Trapeze Artist


CHAPTER SEVEN: Emo the Figure Skater


CHAPTER EIGHT: Emo the Matador


CHAPTER NINE: Emo the Maestro


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