Monday, February 27, 2006
Monday, February 06, 2006
From the Archives-PIMP RAT
(This is from a really old entry. I'm not sure of the exact date but it was written when Olivia was 12, so at least three years ago!)
So I ‘m at the pizza parlor with O and some of her friends. The PTQ’s, (Pre-teen Queens) as we call them. I’m sitting at a table all by myself, because O prefers I not associate with her in public. I think her friends are actually okay with me, but my own daughter won’t be seen with me. Not that I’m bitter.
Anyway. The girls are at that confusing age, where they are definitely not little girls anymore but they don’t really have figures either, so the boys don’t pay much attention to them no matter how ridiculously low-slung their pants are. Sometimes they act like teenagers, primping for hours with their makeup and clothes, giggling about the boys who pay no attention to them. Other times they are silly and annoying and they interact with the world in this fascinating way—like everything they say and do is the FUNNIEST, most HYSTERICAL thing EVER. Loudly. (Everything they do is loud, except when adults are around and they need to talk about things that matter. Then they whisper.)
Unfortunately for my daughter, she had to eventually acknowledge my existence, if only to ask for more money for the video games. I coughed up some quarters and the PTQ’s went to the vending machines, the ones that dispense 12 M & M’s for a quarter and strange candies shaped like little teeny tiny bananas, called “runts.” These are the same machines that spit out plastic containers with incredibly cheap and gaudy jewelry, and fake spiders. At least, that’s what USED to be in these plastic containers. However, the “prize” my daughter received for her quarter was…..a “pimped-out” rat. Yes, that’s right. A miniature plastic rat, “pimped-out”, so to speak, with a gray trench coat jauntily thrown over his shoulders, a chain–link necklace, fedora and sunglasses. Oh, and he has a walking stick. Ethnically, he appears to be of the gray persuasion and not of any clearly identifiable race, although it’s hard to really know when you are dealing with stereotypes that are only ¾” tall.
Now I ask you, what the hell kind of “prize” is this to be giving our children? They put a quarter into a machine, expecting a super ball or possibly one of those disgusting rubber octopuses (octopi?) that you are supposed to throw at the wall and then watch while it “walks” its way down. . Instead, they get a rat. A rat, dressed like a pimp! My daughter is 12 and she immediately recognized it for what it was. But a younger child would (hopefully, anyway) be somewhat befuddled and how would you explain it? “Well, honey, it’s a well-dressed rodent who makes a lot of money by forcing young girls to have sex with low-life drug users.”
I don’t think so.
Still, it occurred to me that the world has changed a whole lot since I was a kid. I mean, I know—no sh**, Sherlock, right? Just look around and see what has become of our world in 25 scant years. I think the “pimped out” rat-dispensing machine is one of those little signs of the true decline of our culture. You might not notice it as readily as you would a garbage-strewn beach, or a Christina Aguilera video but it’s just as telling. What’s next? Toy crack pipes? Tiny necklaces for dolls that say “ho” on them?
Well, so I immediately confiscated the “pimped-out” rat and put him where he belongs—on the dashboard of my car. Every once in awhile, as I’m cruising down the road, I look at the smirky little rat and imagine he’s saying “c’mon baby, just for a little while…until you get on your feet again.”
So I ‘m at the pizza parlor with O and some of her friends. The PTQ’s, (Pre-teen Queens) as we call them. I’m sitting at a table all by myself, because O prefers I not associate with her in public. I think her friends are actually okay with me, but my own daughter won’t be seen with me. Not that I’m bitter.
Anyway. The girls are at that confusing age, where they are definitely not little girls anymore but they don’t really have figures either, so the boys don’t pay much attention to them no matter how ridiculously low-slung their pants are. Sometimes they act like teenagers, primping for hours with their makeup and clothes, giggling about the boys who pay no attention to them. Other times they are silly and annoying and they interact with the world in this fascinating way—like everything they say and do is the FUNNIEST, most HYSTERICAL thing EVER. Loudly. (Everything they do is loud, except when adults are around and they need to talk about things that matter. Then they whisper.)
Unfortunately for my daughter, she had to eventually acknowledge my existence, if only to ask for more money for the video games. I coughed up some quarters and the PTQ’s went to the vending machines, the ones that dispense 12 M & M’s for a quarter and strange candies shaped like little teeny tiny bananas, called “runts.” These are the same machines that spit out plastic containers with incredibly cheap and gaudy jewelry, and fake spiders. At least, that’s what USED to be in these plastic containers. However, the “prize” my daughter received for her quarter was…..a “pimped-out” rat. Yes, that’s right. A miniature plastic rat, “pimped-out”, so to speak, with a gray trench coat jauntily thrown over his shoulders, a chain–link necklace, fedora and sunglasses. Oh, and he has a walking stick. Ethnically, he appears to be of the gray persuasion and not of any clearly identifiable race, although it’s hard to really know when you are dealing with stereotypes that are only ¾” tall.
Now I ask you, what the hell kind of “prize” is this to be giving our children? They put a quarter into a machine, expecting a super ball or possibly one of those disgusting rubber octopuses (octopi?) that you are supposed to throw at the wall and then watch while it “walks” its way down. . Instead, they get a rat. A rat, dressed like a pimp! My daughter is 12 and she immediately recognized it for what it was. But a younger child would (hopefully, anyway) be somewhat befuddled and how would you explain it? “Well, honey, it’s a well-dressed rodent who makes a lot of money by forcing young girls to have sex with low-life drug users.”
I don’t think so.
Still, it occurred to me that the world has changed a whole lot since I was a kid. I mean, I know—no sh**, Sherlock, right? Just look around and see what has become of our world in 25 scant years. I think the “pimped out” rat-dispensing machine is one of those little signs of the true decline of our culture. You might not notice it as readily as you would a garbage-strewn beach, or a Christina Aguilera video but it’s just as telling. What’s next? Toy crack pipes? Tiny necklaces for dolls that say “ho” on them?
Well, so I immediately confiscated the “pimped-out” rat and put him where he belongs—on the dashboard of my car. Every once in awhile, as I’m cruising down the road, I look at the smirky little rat and imagine he’s saying “c’mon baby, just for a little while…until you get on your feet again.”
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Major Award Alert!
Scene It Deluxe DVD Game.
I have no idea where it came from. I can't find a reference to a sweep that offered this prize, but nevertheless I am happy to have it!
I have no idea where it came from. I can't find a reference to a sweep that offered this prize, but nevertheless I am happy to have it!
Weekly Address, January 26, 2006 (Sponsored by the makers of "VIVA LAS VEGAS"
In which Olivia is exiled from the Gentiles and Eric becomes "The Recycle King"
So things here at BSB are settling down in the new year. It's been an eventful few weeks, but generally calmer than normal, which is nice.
Ivy is back at UCSC. The evil empire (aka The GAP) did not choose to keep her on staff after the holidays so she is looking for a new job. Hopefully she'll find something quickly. The network of smitten boys that moved to Santa Cruz to be near her are all trying to secure her jobs at their place of employment. (Ivy's harem is an interesting phenomenon. So far, Nick and Josh have left their schools and moved to Santa Cruz. I'm sure Ivy thinks its all perfectly coincidental-thinking like this is part of that Ivy charm-but we here at BSB can tell that pretty much every single boy "friend" of Ivy's is secretly madly in love with her. She has truly grown into her title of "Geek Goddess.") Also, Ivy cut her hair big time. I finally got to see it in person and it's very cute. She donated her foot and a half of shorn locks (to poor people, as the family joke goes).
Olivia continues her effortless campaign to be the coolest person in the world. You should go shopping with her sometimes, it's like hanging out with Angelina Jolie or something. The sunglasses, the detached air, the puffy lips (from that crazy stuff she uses to "plump" her lips. Lip venom, I think it's called. I heard a rumor that it actually contains bee venom, but that can't be right, can it?) Rehearsals for "Aida" (or "AiAngela" as the cast snidely refers to it) are starting to ramp up. Olivia is happy to be in her favorite number of the show, "Strongest Suit", wearing what we hope is the worlds first total-coverage, completely-attached-to-the-body bath towel. Two kids have been kicked out of the show so far,one for grades and one for drinking at Winter Formal. In school this week, Olivia was a "mole" in her religion class, secretly selected by her teacher to be an instigator attempting to convince her group of "gentiles" that they should convert to Judaism. Apparently she ticked her group off so much they tossed her out and sent her over to the Jews.
Eric has basically gone completely nuts. A week ago, I innocently commented on a coworkers' daughter who collects cans and bottles for recycling. She made over 1,000 bucks last year and I was impressed. Seven days and $22 later, Eric has turned into "The Recycling King." (He must be referred to as such, and the title must always be in quotes.) He spends all his free time rummaging through garbage cans and taking his spoils to the recycling center. I have been successful in convincing him that he shouldn't root through his coworkers' garbage cans. However, he deeply resents my request to stay off of Main Street, where my office is located. Last night he actually compared himself to the Bald Eagle, saying that my overly restrictive "land grabs" have forced him into a smaller and smaller territory. I would buy this logic if he was referring to his life in general, alluding to his general loss of freedom after marriage. I think you could make a case for that. But his recycling rights and the life of a Bald Eagle? I think this is a bit of a stretch...
So things here at BSB are settling down in the new year. It's been an eventful few weeks, but generally calmer than normal, which is nice.
Ivy is back at UCSC. The evil empire (aka The GAP) did not choose to keep her on staff after the holidays so she is looking for a new job. Hopefully she'll find something quickly. The network of smitten boys that moved to Santa Cruz to be near her are all trying to secure her jobs at their place of employment. (Ivy's harem is an interesting phenomenon. So far, Nick and Josh have left their schools and moved to Santa Cruz. I'm sure Ivy thinks its all perfectly coincidental-thinking like this is part of that Ivy charm-but we here at BSB can tell that pretty much every single boy "friend" of Ivy's is secretly madly in love with her. She has truly grown into her title of "Geek Goddess.") Also, Ivy cut her hair big time. I finally got to see it in person and it's very cute. She donated her foot and a half of shorn locks (to poor people, as the family joke goes).
Olivia continues her effortless campaign to be the coolest person in the world. You should go shopping with her sometimes, it's like hanging out with Angelina Jolie or something. The sunglasses, the detached air, the puffy lips (from that crazy stuff she uses to "plump" her lips. Lip venom, I think it's called. I heard a rumor that it actually contains bee venom, but that can't be right, can it?) Rehearsals for "Aida" (or "AiAngela" as the cast snidely refers to it) are starting to ramp up. Olivia is happy to be in her favorite number of the show, "Strongest Suit", wearing what we hope is the worlds first total-coverage, completely-attached-to-the-body bath towel. Two kids have been kicked out of the show so far,one for grades and one for drinking at Winter Formal. In school this week, Olivia was a "mole" in her religion class, secretly selected by her teacher to be an instigator attempting to convince her group of "gentiles" that they should convert to Judaism. Apparently she ticked her group off so much they tossed her out and sent her over to the Jews.
Eric has basically gone completely nuts. A week ago, I innocently commented on a coworkers' daughter who collects cans and bottles for recycling. She made over 1,000 bucks last year and I was impressed. Seven days and $22 later, Eric has turned into "The Recycling King." (He must be referred to as such, and the title must always be in quotes.) He spends all his free time rummaging through garbage cans and taking his spoils to the recycling center. I have been successful in convincing him that he shouldn't root through his coworkers' garbage cans. However, he deeply resents my request to stay off of Main Street, where my office is located. Last night he actually compared himself to the Bald Eagle, saying that my overly restrictive "land grabs" have forced him into a smaller and smaller territory. I would buy this logic if he was referring to his life in general, alluding to his general loss of freedom after marriage. I think you could make a case for that. But his recycling rights and the life of a Bald Eagle? I think this is a bit of a stretch...
Thursday, January 12, 2006
I WANNA BE A GILMORE GIRL!!!
So in late December, Olivia was bored and started watching the TV show "Gilmore Girls." I came home from work one day and she told me it was a really good show. I said "No, it's not." And she said "Yes, it is." And I said "No, it's not." Etc. So you can see that we already have the whole "witty, fast paced dialogue" thing down...
Rory....damn! Olivia.....OLIVIA asked for Season 1 on DVD for Christmas and someone, the guys who run the Coastside Markup, I believe, gave it to her.
23 days later, not a night has gone by that Rory, I mean Olivia, and I don't curl up on the couch and watch at least 2 episodes. Eric hasn't come upstairs in three weeks. As soon as he hears the opening theme music, he sighs and retreats to our room, no doubt to watch manly-type shows like pro wrestling and Dr. Phil. He HATES the Gilmore Girls. Which is really unfortunate because Olivia and I ARE the Gilmore Girls. We're funny! We're smart! We're beautiful! He could learn alot about living with us from watching this show.
It's not just the "Gilmore Girls" themselves, either. I want to live in Stars Hollow with grumpy, backwards-hat-wearing Luke, owner of the local diner. I want to go visit the house built by diminutive Babette, where all the downscaled ceilings and furniture must be very difficult for her extremely tall hepcat boyfriend to manuever. I desperately wanted to go to the wake for Babette's cat, Cinnamon and hear Michele the insufferable French inn employee refer to Jackson as "hee haw man". I want to take classes from Miss Patty, the zaftig and oversexed dance teacher. I want to sit down with Paris and tell her there is life after high school and college and to just CHILL OUT already.
Sigh. Unfortunately, I do not have a writer to follow me around and give me snappy comebacks to dish out at breakneck speed. My caffeine addiction is really amature stuff compared to Lorelai's. Also, my relationship with my parents is pretty normal and I'd have to really stir up the drama in order to equal the disfunctional nature of the Gilmore family.
Anyway, if you haven't seen this show I heartily recommend it. And if you are already a fan, then tell me what you think about this whole Jess and Dean issue. I mean, Jess is clearly very intelligent and funny but what a chip on his shoulder! And Dean...well, Dean is sweet and loves Rory a lot but.....zzzzzzz.
Rory....damn! Olivia.....OLIVIA asked for Season 1 on DVD for Christmas and someone, the guys who run the Coastside Markup, I believe, gave it to her.
23 days later, not a night has gone by that Rory, I mean Olivia, and I don't curl up on the couch and watch at least 2 episodes. Eric hasn't come upstairs in three weeks. As soon as he hears the opening theme music, he sighs and retreats to our room, no doubt to watch manly-type shows like pro wrestling and Dr. Phil. He HATES the Gilmore Girls. Which is really unfortunate because Olivia and I ARE the Gilmore Girls. We're funny! We're smart! We're beautiful! He could learn alot about living with us from watching this show.
It's not just the "Gilmore Girls" themselves, either. I want to live in Stars Hollow with grumpy, backwards-hat-wearing Luke, owner of the local diner. I want to go visit the house built by diminutive Babette, where all the downscaled ceilings and furniture must be very difficult for her extremely tall hepcat boyfriend to manuever. I desperately wanted to go to the wake for Babette's cat, Cinnamon and hear Michele the insufferable French inn employee refer to Jackson as "hee haw man". I want to take classes from Miss Patty, the zaftig and oversexed dance teacher. I want to sit down with Paris and tell her there is life after high school and college and to just CHILL OUT already.
Sigh. Unfortunately, I do not have a writer to follow me around and give me snappy comebacks to dish out at breakneck speed. My caffeine addiction is really amature stuff compared to Lorelai's. Also, my relationship with my parents is pretty normal and I'd have to really stir up the drama in order to equal the disfunctional nature of the Gilmore family.
Anyway, if you haven't seen this show I heartily recommend it. And if you are already a fan, then tell me what you think about this whole Jess and Dean issue. I mean, Jess is clearly very intelligent and funny but what a chip on his shoulder! And Dean...well, Dean is sweet and loves Rory a lot but.....zzzzzzz.
Major Award Alert!
Yes, it's true...I have had my first wins of 2006 already.
American Beauty Cosmetics-ARV 42.00
Xela Aroma Sticks-ARV 135.00
Woot.
American Beauty Cosmetics-ARV 42.00
Xela Aroma Sticks-ARV 135.00
Woot.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Why we're not so popular in our neighborhood
My neighbor sent me this picture of Corky, taking a nap in her sink.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Best of 2005
Time once again to reflect and compile the official
Big Sandy Bottom Best of....list!
Here are some of mine. The usual caveat applies: these are just some things I ENJOYED in 2005, they may not necessarily be things that were RELEASED in 2005. Please post your comments and own lists! We want to hear about your own bests (and worsts) also!
BEST READS:
The Dogs of Babel
The haunting story of a distraught husband seeking clues from the family dog, who happens to be the only witness to his wife's mysterious death. Weird but truly unforgettable.
I won't go into a great deal of comment on this one, since it's covered in a previous entry. (see below, "George Bush and I are reading the same book.")
Word of caution: do not read this book if you are a hypochondriac.
BEST CURE FOR INSOMNIA:
Guns, Germs and Steel
As part of my non-fiction reading kick this year, I picked up this gargantuan history of, well, everything. All I can say is, if you're having trouble sleeping, pick up this baby and I guarantee you'll be fast asleep within 5 pages.
MEAL OF THE YEAR:
Gosh, it's so hard to choose... I mean, nothing comes immediately to mind, except-oh! wait a minute!
Ivy's birthday meal at Ciao Bella in Ben Lomond.
Let's just say that I made a mistake, okay? How was I to know that our meal would be eaten next to a stripper pole-included stage whilst a nearly naked man dangled his private parts in our faces? Do you honestly think I would've chosen that on purpose? Give me a break! It was a mistake people!
MOST FRUSTRATINGLY AWESOME TV SHOW:
Lost.
Crap, this show has me in its grip and it pisses me off! Every frickin' week I tune in to get some clues to the mystery surrounding this island and its castaways and every frickin' week they just throw more mysteries in there. And yet I never miss a show and I spend every Thursday through Wednesday afternoon obsessively trolling the "spoiler" boards for info. Sigh.
GUILTY PLEASURE TV SHOW:
Laguna Beach.
I know, sad isn't it? Why the hell should I care about stupid Talen and Kristin and the rest of those spoiled rich kids? And yet Olivia and I tuned it in every Monday night, and we can't wait for next season with LC's little sister!
CAT OF THE YEAR:
Stubby.
Despite heavy lobbying by Dempsey, I've decided to give this year's award to Stubby, mostly because I missed him so much when he ran away.
HUSBAND OF THE YEAR:
Eric.
For lots of reasons, but the one that stands out is his yeoman trip to see Jason Mraz in concert with Olivia and her friends Kelly and Hannah. Mr. Mraz is NOT a favorite of Eric's. Neither are crowds or trips with three giggly teenage girls wearing pink shirts with the word "GEEK" emblazoned on them. Oh, and he probably doesn't really enjoy being in SF at a nightclub until 12:30 a.m. on a work night OR driving some of the aforementioned teenage girls to Walnut Creek after the show. And yet, when I had to bow out, due to election committments, Eric stepped up. And I hardly had to beg him! What a guy....
ANTI-POPE OF THE YEAR:
Poppy.
Big Sandy Bottom Best of....list!
Here are some of mine. The usual caveat applies: these are just some things I ENJOYED in 2005, they may not necessarily be things that were RELEASED in 2005. Please post your comments and own lists! We want to hear about your own bests (and worsts) also!
BEST READS:
The Dogs of Babel
The haunting story of a distraught husband seeking clues from the family dog, who happens to be the only witness to his wife's mysterious death. Weird but truly unforgettable.
Skeletons on the Zahara
This is a great book to read if you are feeling sorry for yourself. Next time you think you have a tough life, consider how much worse it could be. Like you could be one the men in this (true) story whose boat shipwrecks off the coast of Africa. Sold into slavery, beaten and forced to trek across the desert for several months, naked with only the occasional sip of camel milk for sustenance, most of the unfortunate wretches die and frankly they may have been the lucky ones.
The Great InfluenzaI won't go into a great deal of comment on this one, since it's covered in a previous entry. (see below, "George Bush and I are reading the same book.")
Word of caution: do not read this book if you are a hypochondriac.
BEST CURE FOR INSOMNIA:
Guns, Germs and Steel
As part of my non-fiction reading kick this year, I picked up this gargantuan history of, well, everything. All I can say is, if you're having trouble sleeping, pick up this baby and I guarantee you'll be fast asleep within 5 pages.
MEAL OF THE YEAR:
Gosh, it's so hard to choose... I mean, nothing comes immediately to mind, except-oh! wait a minute!
Ivy's birthday meal at Ciao Bella in Ben Lomond.
Let's just say that I made a mistake, okay? How was I to know that our meal would be eaten next to a stripper pole-included stage whilst a nearly naked man dangled his private parts in our faces? Do you honestly think I would've chosen that on purpose? Give me a break! It was a mistake people!
MOST FRUSTRATINGLY AWESOME TV SHOW:
Lost.
Crap, this show has me in its grip and it pisses me off! Every frickin' week I tune in to get some clues to the mystery surrounding this island and its castaways and every frickin' week they just throw more mysteries in there. And yet I never miss a show and I spend every Thursday through Wednesday afternoon obsessively trolling the "spoiler" boards for info. Sigh.
GUILTY PLEASURE TV SHOW:
Laguna Beach.
I know, sad isn't it? Why the hell should I care about stupid Talen and Kristin and the rest of those spoiled rich kids? And yet Olivia and I tuned it in every Monday night, and we can't wait for next season with LC's little sister!
CAT OF THE YEAR:
Stubby.
Despite heavy lobbying by Dempsey, I've decided to give this year's award to Stubby, mostly because I missed him so much when he ran away.
HUSBAND OF THE YEAR:
Eric.
For lots of reasons, but the one that stands out is his yeoman trip to see Jason Mraz in concert with Olivia and her friends Kelly and Hannah. Mr. Mraz is NOT a favorite of Eric's. Neither are crowds or trips with three giggly teenage girls wearing pink shirts with the word "GEEK" emblazoned on them. Oh, and he probably doesn't really enjoy being in SF at a nightclub until 12:30 a.m. on a work night OR driving some of the aforementioned teenage girls to Walnut Creek after the show. And yet, when I had to bow out, due to election committments, Eric stepped up. And I hardly had to beg him! What a guy....
ANTI-POPE OF THE YEAR:
Poppy.
Major Award Alert!
Actually, two to report:
Prive Hair Products, ARV $165
and
AHAVA Dead Sea Products, ARV $205
We will be looking pretty around here!
Monday, December 05, 2005
Olivia and Mike at Winter Formal
Here's a great photo of Oli and Mike, at the Winter Formal! Please admire the dress, as it cost an arm and a leg...
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Which Josh?
Olivia, Eric and I went to see "The Laramie Project" at Coastal Rep tonight...it was a very good show, extremely powerful and I basically had to leave via the back door afterwards, because I was crying so hard and I am NOT a pretty cry...
The controversial subject of the show was at least challenged by another controversial subject: Which Josh does Eric resemble?
During the intermission an extremely drunk old lady grabbed Eric's arm and gushed "You look just like Josh...mumblemumblesomebodyorother". Eric kind of laughed, and the woman said "I bet you're sick of hearing that all the time." And Eric just kind of laughed uncomfortably again.
So the controversy: Which Josh does Eric resemble? I swear the woman said "You look just like Josh Kornbluth". However, Olivia says the old bat actually said "You look just like Josh Groban."
So you all decide. Which Josh is Eric the spittin' image of? Please post a comment, with the name "Kornbluth" or "Groban" in your post.
The controversial subject of the show was at least challenged by another controversial subject: Which Josh does Eric resemble?
During the intermission an extremely drunk old lady grabbed Eric's arm and gushed "You look just like Josh...mumblemumblesomebodyorother". Eric kind of laughed, and the woman said "I bet you're sick of hearing that all the time." And Eric just kind of laughed uncomfortably again.
So the controversy: Which Josh does Eric resemble? I swear the woman said "You look just like Josh Kornbluth". However, Olivia says the old bat actually said "You look just like Josh Groban."
So you all decide. Which Josh is Eric the spittin' image of? Please post a comment, with the name "Kornbluth" or "Groban" in your post.
Josh Kornbluth
OR
Josh Groban
Or perhaps you have ANOTHER Josh in mind, if so please post a link or photo so we can get to the bottom of this.
Major Award Alert!
okay, I'm on a roll! Won first prize in some sweep, five DVD's: Benny and Joon, When Harry Met Sally, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (Truly Scrumptious, you're really, truly scrumptious...hahha), Die Another Day and West Side Story.
Eric's really excited, because he thinks we can sell 'em for at least 25 cents a piece at the next garage sale.
Did I tell you that Eric sold our coffee table at the garage sale? Our coffee table, which was NOT for sale? Luckily, he was able to get the buyer to give it back.
Eric's really excited, because he thinks we can sell 'em for at least 25 cents a piece at the next garage sale.
Did I tell you that Eric sold our coffee table at the garage sale? Our coffee table, which was NOT for sale? Luckily, he was able to get the buyer to give it back.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Major Award Alert!
Yes, another one!
So this is kinda funny...
Day before yesterday, we get a notice from UPS, saying they tried to deliver a package but it required an in-person signature. No clue on what the item was other than the sender was "Parks Production."
Being the OCD type that I am, I immediately went to the UPS site and tracked the package to see what I could find out. Not much info there, other than the originating zip code is Pontiac Michigan. I go to my online sweeps site, can't find anything that looks like it could match up with the tiny clues I had.
So I spent all day today fantasizing...what could possibly be coming to me from Michigan, that requires an in-person signature? I mean, I couldn't just sign the freakin' little slip they left and have them leave the package. A real, in-person signature...must be something REALLY important.
I decide it's a car. No, not an ACTUAL car being delivered. But maybe an affidavit, saying I won a CAR!! Woohoo!
Anyway, so tonight the UPS truck pulls up and I race outside (tripping over several cats in the process), sign for the damn package and rip it open right there.
Are you ready? Can you feel the excitement building?
I won an autographed DVD of Doogie Howser, Season 1.
http://www.doogiehowserondvd.com/info.html
Yup, it's all mine. Who needs a car? I have Doogie.
I am sort of tickled that I won this prize with my writing skills. I actually don't remember what I wrote, but the premise of the contest was "Doogie Howser-the lost years." You were supposed to write a computer diary entry, ala Doogie, that took place between 2004-and 2005. I know that my Doogie entry was dated September 12, 2001 and I know that it was REALLY cheesy, but then so was Doogie, right?
And I don't know how many people entered, but I was in the top 16 entries-I was 15 places away from winning the grand prize (a trip to the Emmys, 500 bucks and some Doogie swag.)
Oh well, another prize I probably won't be able to sell on ebay.
I think it might make a good christmas gift for Dave though...
So this is kinda funny...
Day before yesterday, we get a notice from UPS, saying they tried to deliver a package but it required an in-person signature. No clue on what the item was other than the sender was "Parks Production."
Being the OCD type that I am, I immediately went to the UPS site and tracked the package to see what I could find out. Not much info there, other than the originating zip code is Pontiac Michigan. I go to my online sweeps site, can't find anything that looks like it could match up with the tiny clues I had.
So I spent all day today fantasizing...what could possibly be coming to me from Michigan, that requires an in-person signature? I mean, I couldn't just sign the freakin' little slip they left and have them leave the package. A real, in-person signature...must be something REALLY important.
I decide it's a car. No, not an ACTUAL car being delivered. But maybe an affidavit, saying I won a CAR!! Woohoo!
Anyway, so tonight the UPS truck pulls up and I race outside (tripping over several cats in the process), sign for the damn package and rip it open right there.
Are you ready? Can you feel the excitement building?
I won an autographed DVD of Doogie Howser, Season 1.
http://www.doogiehowserondvd.com/info.html
Yup, it's all mine. Who needs a car? I have Doogie.
I am sort of tickled that I won this prize with my writing skills. I actually don't remember what I wrote, but the premise of the contest was "Doogie Howser-the lost years." You were supposed to write a computer diary entry, ala Doogie, that took place between 2004-and 2005. I know that my Doogie entry was dated September 12, 2001 and I know that it was REALLY cheesy, but then so was Doogie, right?
And I don't know how many people entered, but I was in the top 16 entries-I was 15 places away from winning the grand prize (a trip to the Emmys, 500 bucks and some Doogie swag.)
Oh well, another prize I probably won't be able to sell on ebay.
I think it might make a good christmas gift for Dave though...
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Major Award Alert!
Received one Too Faced brand cosmetic "Caribbean in a Box".
just thought you'd like to know.
just thought you'd like to know.
George Bush and I have been reading the same book
How weird is that?
The following is an excerpt from an article I found online about bird flu:
"Katrina hit just days after Bush finished John M. Barry's The Great Influenza: The Epic Story of the Deadliest Plague in History during his August vacation on his ranch, White House spokesman Scott McClellan says.
Apparently motivated by the frightening tale of the 1918 epidemic, which killed an estimated 150,000 people in the USA and 50 million worldwide, Bush said last week that the military might be needed to enforce quarantines."
Members of my immediate family will no doubt remember when I read The Great Influenza: The Epic Story of the Deadliest Plague in History. Not a conversation was held that I didn't refer to it. I was so obsessed by it that I started to annoy my co-workers also, randomly throwing bits of info into lunch conversations. ("Did you know that 1918 flu pandemic targeted the young and healthy rather than the elderly and infirm?" "It's estimated that as many as 50 million people died during the 1918 flu outbreak." "Doctors were unable to identify the ethnicity of many corpses, due to the fact that victims' skin tended to turn completely blue.")
I'm afraid I may have become a bit tiresome on the subject. But now that the President has read the book, I feel better. Because let me tell you, anyone who reads this book will be extremely alarmed about the possibility of a bird flu pandemic and will want to do something to prevent it, immediately.
I think two factors are key to my own interest in the book, and avian flu in general. First of all, I am a hypochondriac. Yes, it's true! I know you don't believe it, and argue if you'd like, but the fact remains that I spend a good deal of my life wondering if some seemingly mild ailment, like an infected cuticle, will spread and turn into a life-threatening disease. Second of all, there's the bird factor. You all know how I feel about birds. As far as I'm concerned, the only good bird is a dead bird. So it seems fitting somehow that I would ultimately be felled by a disease brought to us by birds. In fact, a part of me suspects that the only reason bird flu is becoming an issue is because the birds are attempting yet again to find a way to kill me.
Would an entire species spend their evolutionary cycle developing a deadly influenza virus that could be transmitted to me? Yes, I think they would.
The following is an excerpt from an article I found online about bird flu:
"Katrina hit just days after Bush finished John M. Barry's The Great Influenza: The Epic Story of the Deadliest Plague in History during his August vacation on his ranch, White House spokesman Scott McClellan says.
Apparently motivated by the frightening tale of the 1918 epidemic, which killed an estimated 150,000 people in the USA and 50 million worldwide, Bush said last week that the military might be needed to enforce quarantines."
Members of my immediate family will no doubt remember when I read The Great Influenza: The Epic Story of the Deadliest Plague in History. Not a conversation was held that I didn't refer to it. I was so obsessed by it that I started to annoy my co-workers also, randomly throwing bits of info into lunch conversations. ("Did you know that 1918 flu pandemic targeted the young and healthy rather than the elderly and infirm?" "It's estimated that as many as 50 million people died during the 1918 flu outbreak." "Doctors were unable to identify the ethnicity of many corpses, due to the fact that victims' skin tended to turn completely blue.")
I'm afraid I may have become a bit tiresome on the subject. But now that the President has read the book, I feel better. Because let me tell you, anyone who reads this book will be extremely alarmed about the possibility of a bird flu pandemic and will want to do something to prevent it, immediately.
I think two factors are key to my own interest in the book, and avian flu in general. First of all, I am a hypochondriac. Yes, it's true! I know you don't believe it, and argue if you'd like, but the fact remains that I spend a good deal of my life wondering if some seemingly mild ailment, like an infected cuticle, will spread and turn into a life-threatening disease. Second of all, there's the bird factor. You all know how I feel about birds. As far as I'm concerned, the only good bird is a dead bird. So it seems fitting somehow that I would ultimately be felled by a disease brought to us by birds. In fact, a part of me suspects that the only reason bird flu is becoming an issue is because the birds are attempting yet again to find a way to kill me.
Would an entire species spend their evolutionary cycle developing a deadly influenza virus that could be transmitted to me? Yes, I think they would.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Eric deals with the tragic death of Nipsy Russell
STAGE 1: DENIAL WHAT ! ... The immortal Nipsy Russell is dead! it can't be. it just can't be
STAGE 2: ANGER How dare you notify me of this tragic loss in an e-mail with a link! Nipsy is worth a phone call....or (at the very least) the effort in to type "Nipsy is dead".
STAGE 3: BARGAIN Sorry, that was wrong for me to lash out at you....if only you knew how important Nipsy Russell has been to me. If I could have been man enough to talk about Nipsy Russell openly and honestly...Oh GOD! please bring Nipsy back....I promise that I will adore him....
STAGE 4: DEPRESSION Shit. Nipsy's dead. I am sooooo bummed out right now.
STAGE 5: ACCEPTANCE I thought he was dead already.
STAGE 2: ANGER How dare you notify me of this tragic loss in an e-mail with a link! Nipsy is worth a phone call....or (at the very least) the effort in to type "Nipsy is dead".
STAGE 3: BARGAIN Sorry, that was wrong for me to lash out at you....if only you knew how important Nipsy Russell has been to me. If I could have been man enough to talk about Nipsy Russell openly and honestly...Oh GOD! please bring Nipsy back....I promise that I will adore him....
STAGE 4: DEPRESSION Shit. Nipsy's dead. I am sooooo bummed out right now.
STAGE 5: ACCEPTANCE I thought he was dead already.
Monday, September 19, 2005
From the Archives...October 2003
Yes, I am feeling lazy these days and I'm dragging stuff out of the old Big Sandy Bottom Archives. Forgive me, but I hope you like the following item from way back when Olivia decided to play basketball. (As a footnote to the story, Olivia did in fact try out again the next year and made the team. The team ended up winning the league championship and I think it was one of Olivia's favorite times ever. So I guess sports aren't ALL bad. Maybe.)
You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather when my youngest daughter announced she was going to try out for the middle school basketball team. I have two daughters, ages 12 and 17, and neither one has ever played a sport. The aspiring basketball player is 12 and not particularly coordinated. She’s left handed and a little bit klutzy. Still, you have to admire her courage in attempting something never done before in our family, something that perhaps has been discouraged by me, her own mother.
Like most parents, I could say that my daughter’s interests are a reflection of their own desires and skills and of course, that is partially true. But let’s be honest here—our kids usually participate in the activities that we want them to. My daughter didn’t try out for a play at the age of 3 on her own volition. T-ball playing 4-year olds don’t just wake up one morning and drive the mini-van to the playing field. Parents expose their children to activities they themselves have an interest in. I know parents who deny they ever pushed their kids into sports, or dance or whatever…but they are lying.
My children’s extracurricular activities are almost exclusively performing arts related. Since a very young age, they have acted, danced and sang, played flutes and trumpets and clarinets and pianos…as my older daughter proudly says, she is both a band dork AND a theatre geek.
Well, anyway, so this kid wanted to break the mold a bit and try out for basketball. This was okay by me, as I knew she would never actually make the team or anything. Her stepfather and I threw ourselves into full-on supportiveness, contributing in the ways we know best, him by practicing free throws with her, and me by shopping for the best court shoes. We supported her 100% in her hoops quest, knowing full well we’d never have to watch a single game from the bleachers.
You know where this is going, right? That’s right, she made the team. And all of a sudden, our lives were turned upside down. In addition to the voice lessons, early morning jazz band practice, dance classes, play rehearsals and a semi-lucrative professional career as a model/actress, Olivia was also fitting in four days a week of basketball practice, plus games.
Olivia’s sister Ivy was appalled. One of Ivy’s strongly held beliefs is that the words “jock” and “evil” are synonymous. If she didn’t play in her school’s pep band, I think she would have gone her entire high school career without attending a single sporting event. In the spirit of sisterhood, she came to several of Olivia’s games, but stuck her nose in a copy of Les Miserables through most of the action, just to be a butthead.
I attended every home game and tried to get over my biases against organized sports. I found myself getting extremely anxious during the games. Accustomed to watching my daughters perform in front of hundreds of people with barely a blip in my pulse, I could not handle the stress of watching Olivia and her teammates pass the ball back and forth before several dozen parents. The fact that this particular team was stunningly bad helped a little. Most of the spectators (including me) cheered wildly any time any player on any team didn’t screw up. So that part was good—an encouraging atmosphere to all players…I liked that. It reminded me of Ivy and Olivia’s theatre experiences. In fact, I kept getting the whole thing confused with the theatre. Olivia was continually correcting my terminology, rolling her eyes when I said the team had cute “costumes”; reminding me that they had a coach, not a “director”. There was a lot to keep track of. I learned that in basketball there isn’t an “intermission”, but they do have time-outs. Also, apparently it is NOT good luck to tell an athlete to “break a leg”. Oh well, some things you learn the hard way.
Eventually I got the whole language thing sorted out, and Olivia’s team even ended up with a winning season. She hopes to be on the team again this year so I am busily rehearsing my lines, preparing for my role as a supporting member in the ensemble of sporting life. Hopefully I’ll get cast!
Basketball Jones
You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather when my youngest daughter announced she was going to try out for the middle school basketball team. I have two daughters, ages 12 and 17, and neither one has ever played a sport. The aspiring basketball player is 12 and not particularly coordinated. She’s left handed and a little bit klutzy. Still, you have to admire her courage in attempting something never done before in our family, something that perhaps has been discouraged by me, her own mother.
Like most parents, I could say that my daughter’s interests are a reflection of their own desires and skills and of course, that is partially true. But let’s be honest here—our kids usually participate in the activities that we want them to. My daughter didn’t try out for a play at the age of 3 on her own volition. T-ball playing 4-year olds don’t just wake up one morning and drive the mini-van to the playing field. Parents expose their children to activities they themselves have an interest in. I know parents who deny they ever pushed their kids into sports, or dance or whatever…but they are lying.
My children’s extracurricular activities are almost exclusively performing arts related. Since a very young age, they have acted, danced and sang, played flutes and trumpets and clarinets and pianos…as my older daughter proudly says, she is both a band dork AND a theatre geek.
Well, anyway, so this kid wanted to break the mold a bit and try out for basketball. This was okay by me, as I knew she would never actually make the team or anything. Her stepfather and I threw ourselves into full-on supportiveness, contributing in the ways we know best, him by practicing free throws with her, and me by shopping for the best court shoes. We supported her 100% in her hoops quest, knowing full well we’d never have to watch a single game from the bleachers.
You know where this is going, right? That’s right, she made the team. And all of a sudden, our lives were turned upside down. In addition to the voice lessons, early morning jazz band practice, dance classes, play rehearsals and a semi-lucrative professional career as a model/actress, Olivia was also fitting in four days a week of basketball practice, plus games.
Olivia’s sister Ivy was appalled. One of Ivy’s strongly held beliefs is that the words “jock” and “evil” are synonymous. If she didn’t play in her school’s pep band, I think she would have gone her entire high school career without attending a single sporting event. In the spirit of sisterhood, she came to several of Olivia’s games, but stuck her nose in a copy of Les Miserables through most of the action, just to be a butthead.
I attended every home game and tried to get over my biases against organized sports. I found myself getting extremely anxious during the games. Accustomed to watching my daughters perform in front of hundreds of people with barely a blip in my pulse, I could not handle the stress of watching Olivia and her teammates pass the ball back and forth before several dozen parents. The fact that this particular team was stunningly bad helped a little. Most of the spectators (including me) cheered wildly any time any player on any team didn’t screw up. So that part was good—an encouraging atmosphere to all players…I liked that. It reminded me of Ivy and Olivia’s theatre experiences. In fact, I kept getting the whole thing confused with the theatre. Olivia was continually correcting my terminology, rolling her eyes when I said the team had cute “costumes”; reminding me that they had a coach, not a “director”. There was a lot to keep track of. I learned that in basketball there isn’t an “intermission”, but they do have time-outs. Also, apparently it is NOT good luck to tell an athlete to “break a leg”. Oh well, some things you learn the hard way.
Eventually I got the whole language thing sorted out, and Olivia’s team even ended up with a winning season. She hopes to be on the team again this year so I am busily rehearsing my lines, preparing for my role as a supporting member in the ensemble of sporting life. Hopefully I’ll get cast!
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Major Award Alert!!!
Just to make you all jealous, I have decided to keep you informed whenever a major award comes my way.
This week, I received not one, but two major awards: a Braun handblender, and a bottle of Kenra hair spritz. Wow, incredible isn't it?
So most of you know I have a little hobby called "sweeping." Not sure exactly how I got into it, but almost two years ago I started entering sweepstakes online. Although I have been occasionally mocked by my own family members for this activity, they are always the first in line to try to take advantage when a major award is received. And Eric doesn't tease me at all anymore, not since I won $1,000. Which was won in Eric's name, and he was supposed to use it for piano lessons (!) but instead paid our taxes for that year.
Off the top of my head, here are some "major awards" I have won in the past two years:
This week, I received not one, but two major awards: a Braun handblender, and a bottle of Kenra hair spritz. Wow, incredible isn't it?
So most of you know I have a little hobby called "sweeping." Not sure exactly how I got into it, but almost two years ago I started entering sweepstakes online. Although I have been occasionally mocked by my own family members for this activity, they are always the first in line to try to take advantage when a major award is received. And Eric doesn't tease me at all anymore, not since I won $1,000. Which was won in Eric's name, and he was supposed to use it for piano lessons (!) but instead paid our taxes for that year.
Off the top of my head, here are some "major awards" I have won in the past two years:
- Indeterminate number of stuffed "Oscar Meyer Weinermobiles"
- The world famous Pepperidge Farm Goldfish wallet. (as Ivy said, just big enough for a goldfish to use.)
- The aforementioned $1,000. Thank you Jessica Alba and the movie "Honey."
- Roboots. These are so cool, but I don't really have much opportunity to wear them. It's hard to sucessfully wear blue plastic boots that clang and stomp every time you take a step.
- Victoria Principal Skin Care line.
- Philosophy Cosmetics "Amazing Grace" body lotion.
- Snoop Dog Cd. (yess!) Still unopened. Haven't even been able to sell it on ebay.
- $50 gift certificate to Petsmart.
- 9 bottles of OPI nail polish.
- Stila lip pencil and gloss.
- 2 autographed copies of "Flower Power." (Again, can't even get rid of these babies on ebay.)
- Planters Peanuts. hee hee.
- Braun Handblender.
- 30 itunes downloads.
- Disney "Stitch" doll
- Fat Albert Karaoke machine
- Keeblers cookies and tote bag
- Netscape hat and t-shirt
- "Operation" t-shirt
- Kneipp bath set
- 10 week membership to Weight Watchers, food scale, weight scale, 3 weight watchers cookbooks, pedometer, 12 boxes of really yukky weight watchers "snacks".
- Avon "Anew" laser cosmetic system
- Neutrogena hair gloss
I'm probably forgetting a bunch of crap. And yes, I know it's mostly ALL crap, but it's really pretty fun to come home and find some random surprise in the mail. I will give this all up when I win the following : a car, a vacation, and plasma tv. In the meantime, I faithfully continue to enter every sweepstakes I possibly can.
The big downside-I receive ALOT of email spam.
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