May 31, 2005
Full disclosure anyone?
Yep. That's this week's Diva and Men's Club topic. Oh, and I'm honored to be the guest Diva this week. When or should you disclosure your sexual past with your partner?
My answer to that one is "sometimes." Not very decisive, I realize, but it really depends on the situation.
Do I really want to tell my partner about the days of Crisco Oil and waterbeds? Memories of heaving bosoms and thrashing thighs? Ice cream sundaes with a "cherry" on top? Ok..you get the picture.
Hi honey! In case you are reading this, I want you to know I love you.
I think there is a certain mystique in keeping one's past, or parts of it, a secret. I'm not so sure my husband would go for me waxing poetic about my previous boyfriends. It's kind of uncouth if you ask me.
On the other hand, it's extremely important to discuss it at a certain level because of Aids and various STD's. You really need to be sure of those things before you enter into any kind of a relationship. It's also a good thing to discuss, and fully communicate any kind of, how shall I say this, special interests you might have. If my husband would have told me he really loved goats and was desiring a threesome when I met him, I most assuredly would have moved and not left a forwarding address. Capiche?
On the other hand, sharing things such as these might be beneficial to a relationship, as you really never know what your partners "fantasies" are unless you communicate them. You just might be surprised.
For what it's worth, that is my opinion on this most interesting topic.
The lovely Miss Feisty is the organizer of this event, and she has some interesting thoughts on the subject herself.
Other thoughts can be found:
Phin
Naked Villainy
Down for Repairs
Sadie
Just Breathe
Kathy
Posted by Moogie at 05:48 PM | Comments (7)
May 30, 2005
What does the American Flag mean to you?
I was over at OWW's and found this post about the American Flag.
Very appropriate, don't you think?
Good job OWW!
Posted by Moogie at 08:35 AM | Comments (13)
May 27, 2005
Redneck Boyscouts
Bubba and Junior were standing at the base of a flagpole, looking up. A woman walked by and asked what they were doing.
"We're supposed to find the height of the flagpole," said Bubba, "but we don't have a ladder."
The woman took a wrench from her purse, loosened a few bolts, and laid the pole down. Then she took a tape measure from her pocket, took a measurement, announced, "Eighteen feet, six inches," and walked away.
Junior shook his head and laughed.
"Ain't that just like a dumb blonde! We ask for the height, and she gives us the length."
Posted by Moogie at 10:38 AM | Comments (16)
May 26, 2005
Chapter VI is UP!!!
Cut of my legs (cough) and call me shortie! Pammy over at Lollygaggin has simply outdone herself with the sixth chapter of the Blog Western. I'm really filling for Ziggy right now.
Our final runner is Mr. Vman. What a job he has in front of him.
For those of you who haven't been drinking seriously busy with real life, here are the previous chapters:
CHAPTER ONE: Dax
CHAPTER TWO: Moogie
CHAPTER THREE: Mark
CHAPTER FOUR: Kelley
CHAPTER FIVE: Eric
As always, many thanks goes out to my lovely sister who is the brain child of this masterpiece.
Posted by Moogie at 05:46 PM | Comments (1)
May 25, 2005
Queens Fans???
Link HERE.
Posted by Moogie at 05:11 PM | Comments (2)
May 24, 2005
I've been tagged
Suzanne sent me these questions via email. She asked some good ones. She's a pretty cool lady, even though she has been known to leave her husband in charge of the house while she's away on business (and let him guest blog). But that's for another post.
1. How did you meet your husband?
Well, through a mutual friend actually. I went over to her house one day when he was there and we ate some pizza and talked. He was a nice guy, but totally my opposite. He was a real geek. He called me a few nights later and asked me out. I went and discovered that we had a few things in common, or at least, more than I expected. But he was still too geeky for me. Heh, look at us now.
2. What's the key to a 17 year lasting marriage?
Wow! That's such a loaded question. There are a lot of different answers, and it all depends on the situation. The key, of course, is communication. To be honest with you, we really sucked at it and sometimes fall back into the same bad pattern. Generally, that's when one of us will make the time to be alone and hash things out. Look, you cannot always be sweetness and light in a marriage. You are going to piss your partner off from time to time by telling him/her how you feel. But if you don't do that, the bitterness inside you will fester to astronomical proportions.
There have been times when both of us have said to each other, look, enough is enough. This needs to change. If it doesn't, then we need to part ways here (I'm talking the big stuff here). That doesn't necessarily mean that the other person has to do all of the changing. Compromise. It's all about compromise.
It goes that way for the little stuff too. Take a good hard look at what irritates you to no end, and that you cannot live with. Determine which habbits are easy to overlook or live with. Remember you are not perfect either.
It's not easy. In fact it's damn hard. But it's well worth it. We have been through some really, really rough times. No more than anyone else so this isn't an attempt at a pitty party. But I will tell you, we BOTH fight our way through it, determined to make it to the other side. And each time we do. We are stronger. And you know what? The next time we hit a bad patch, we are that much stronger. Does this make sense?
3. If tomorrow was your last day on earth...what would you do, where would you go, and with whom?
Hmm...that's a tough one. Not to sound clichéd or trite, I would say my family. My husband and children of course, but also my mother, father and brothers (and their family), father-in-law and sister-in-law (and her family). I would eat whatever I wanted to eat. Drink whatever I wanted to drink. Play card games, hang out. Talk about memories (those card games can bring up some good stories). Good question.
4. What's your favorite type of food? I don't think I could pick just one. I adore pizza, corn-on-the cob, Chinese Food, Mexican Food. The list is endless. As long as we don't count most of the vegetables, I'll be fine.
5. If you could snap your fingers and be in a new country for a visit...where would it be? I guess Australia or New Zealand. Then again, I'd like to visit Germany, where my roots lie. Then again, I wouldn't mind a safari in Africa, or a visit to Jamaica. I'm not a very decisive person, am I?
Posted by Moogie at 08:37 PM | Comments (3)
May 23, 2005
Imagination
I was born, and was blessed with a vivid sense of imagination. I still have it, and am thankful.
In today’s society, it seems that a lot of kids don’t know what to do with toys that don’t have batteries. Don’t have a Game Boy? Oh dear God in Heaven, you poor, poor deprived child. Get the drift?
We’ve managed to avoid the Game Boys and the Xbox’s or what have you. The girls are still happy playing on Disney.com or some such. I won’t say I’ll never buy that stuff, but for now, I’ve dodged the bullet.
Did you ever play with a box? Just a simple box. I can remember that. Space ships, tunnels, airplanes, homes. Mom would arm us with crayons (or paint) and paper and we would decorate our beloved box into whatever we decided we wanted it to be. The love of boxes hasn’t changed. My kids LOVE them. We had one heck of a fort going a couple of weekends ago. The boxes, some old blankets, a couple of chairs and a card table. That’s all it took.
Do any of you (this is aimed at the ladies) remember Kiddles? I may be dating myself but I had quite a few of them. Mom was seriously creative. Unfortunately, I didn’t inherit much of that gene. We made chairs and bar stools out of Dixie Cups, toilet paper rolls and cotton balls. I’d take the cotton balls and roll a scrap of material around them, and walla! A cushion.
While Kiddles seem to have gone away, dolls and Barbies are a big hit here. I remember sleeping with about 20 of them in my bed. I remember making a bed for them out of a shoebox, and some hand towels. Some of the dolls would be in the “hospital”, complete with band-aids and such. I had those boxes lining the walls of my room. That was back in the day before I had kids. When I wanted to have at least 20 of them. Good stuff.
And who the heck needs bathtub toys? I did that with my first-born. I bought her entire sets of toys and discovered she was much happier with a plastic cup, a wash cloth, and empty dish soap bottle and the like. According to Mom, I was the same way.
I’ve passed on the imagination gene to my children. I LOVE to watch what they come up with. I remember buying a 12 pack of Kleenex. I set it in the hallway, intending to distribute in amongst the linen closets for future use. My youngest had a blast. The boxes were a castle. She had her Barbies. The boxes were stacked, the Barbie would climb, but the forces of evil would cause the Barbie to fall. And that was only a small part of it.
Imagination. It’s good stuff. Do you possess it or do you need a battery to keep going?
Posted by Moogie at 05:50 PM | Comments (5)
May 22, 2005
An Open Letter
Honey,
Who'd have thunk? After that day 17 years ago, that I would be sitting here, typing this post?
As I recall, it was the hottest day of the year. The air conditioning in the church, limo, and restaurant (though this one was later rectified) was broken. The organist didn't show up until we were ready to walk back down the aisle. The video of our wedding got screwed up.
Despite all of that, I remember it being the best day of my life, barring the birth of our children. The honeymoon was fantastic. A mystical time in which we were able to spend some blessed time by ourselves, discovering each other and the beauty of the places we visited.
I promise not to tell anyone how you locked the keys in the car on our first day of the trip. Or how the tow truck driver who came to rescue those keys declined any sort of payment once he found out we were on our honeymoon. Honest. That little secret is safe with me.
It's been a wild ride. We've had so many ups and downs. Each time we get past a particularly rough patch, we seem to have forged a bond that is even stronger.
You are the other half of me, yet I am not soley dependent upon you. I'm able to do quite well when I am not with you, yet when you are around, I'm just more content.
As I write this post, I can't believe how time has flown. Conversely, it feels like we have been together forever. I'm not sure I have the words to express it.
I know this letter is a day late, but goodness, what a day it was. Tball games, softball tournament, end of the year parties. All in one day. Despite all of that, I don't know when I've had a better time.
Happy 17th Anniversary Sweetheart! I love you. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.
Posted by Moogie at 09:47 AM | Comments (10)
Blog Western - Part V
Goodness, just where have I been the last few days? Eric has slipped one in while I was away from my computer. Chapter V is up and running and believe me people, it's a doozie! It seems Miss Emily isn't as lilly white as we thought.
Next up to bat is the lovely and very talented Pammy.
For those of you who haven't been keeping track, here are the previous chapters:
CHAPTER ONE: Dax
CHAPTER TWO: Moogie
CHAPTER THREE: Mark
CHAPTER FOUR: Kelley
Bringing up the rear for Chapter six will be the blogosphere's very own paradox VelociGod
As always, many thanks goes out to my lovely sister who is the brain child of this masterpiece.
Posted by Moogie at 08:43 AM | Comments (0)
May 20, 2005
Carnival of the BabeWits - #1
Our most handsome Mr. Witnit has published his first post on "The Carnival of the BabeWits."
Go and take a gander at those on his list. There are some awesome good reads in there.
Posted by Moogie at 04:46 PM | Comments (0)
May 18, 2005
Blackberries
This post got me to thinking. What Rob says is true, in a lot of ways. Thankfully, we’ve been able to introduce our kids to a lot of different things since we’ve moved here. Things that we didn’t have access to when living in a big city.
As far as blackberries, I would have to tell Rob I’ve got that one covered. There are woods behind most of the houses here in my neighborhood. Woods or retention ponds. We’ve got blackberries (from a neighbor's back yard) coming out the wazoo. What fun. I arm the kids (and not just mine) with a zip lock freezer bag and send them on their way. I think it’s hysterically funny that the majority of the blackberries never find their way back to my house. Where did they go? Take a look at the kids faces and shirts. I think you’ll find the answer there.
I remember that as a child, we would drive out to Indiana each summer and visit the loads of relatives we had there. My Uncle Otto had a rather large garden and we would catch butterflies and toads.
He'd let us pick what we wanted in that garden. I loved the green onions. I would pick a few and run into the house and my Aunt Dede would clean them up for me and I'd go back outside munching away. Same thing with carrots. My brothers and I used to have contests to see who could eat the hottest pepper without having to go drink a glass of water.
I remember that Aunt Edna would host a reunion when we came into town. She would set up huge pots for corn on the cob. I don't know if any of you have ever tasted the sweet white corn found in the midwest or not but just thinking of it makes me salivate. Mom never limited us to how many we could have and I'd wager I'd eat a least 1/2 dozen. She would wrap the left overs up and put them in the refridgerator and then we'd just grab one from time to time and eat it cold for a snack. Aunt Dede would make German potatoe salad. It's funny. I have that recipe but haven't made it to this day. I think I'll try it out this summer though. And we would have loads of barbeque beef, thinly sliced, and slowly cooked all day.
I remember Uncle Carl and Aunt Minnie. Uncle Carl was this seriously tall, completely bald man. I remember him as being really quiet but he would let me ride on his shoulders. They had this huge cooler with bottled sodas (another thing Mom didn't limit us on) and he'd always open it up for me, and help me pop the top off. Aunt Minnie had a stroke so she couldn't talk or walk. She was in a wheelchair. To this day, I couldn't tell you why (I don't recall her ever not being in the wheelchair) but I loved that woman. I was forever running up to her and giving her kisses. I can clearly see her big grin in my mind each time I did.
For some reason, I'm really hungry right now. Do you have a good memory to share while I go get a snack?
Posted by Moogie at 07:05 PM | Comments (3)
Reading
Carmi got me thinking with this post, about reading.
For me, a book is my entrance into a world of endless possibilities. When I read, I AM. I become the main character and remain so until I turn the last page.
I control the turning of those pages. How fast I turn them depends entirely on the level of excitement or suspense of the book in question. I confess to being sorely tempted to read the end of the book, and yes, I have done so several times before.
Because I become a major player in the plot, I possess a burning desire to know the outcome. Will I die? Will I solve the murder before I become a permanent fixture in the support beam of a bridge currently being constructed? Will I find the man of my dreams and marry him? Will I be a pilot? A famous lawyer? A woman who is down on my luck, but rising to the challenges life hands me, only to become a famous producer or real estate tycoon? A pilot? The lover of a gunslinger named Angel? The possibilities are endless.
My oldest child loves to read. And she reads just about anything. She is capable of reading more than one book at a time, much like her male parental unit. When you visit my house, you would find that there are a few books in the bathroom, the living room, the bedrooms, and even in the garage.
I myself have never mastered that skill. I need to read a book from cover to cover before I attempt to move on to the next one. I am also incapable of moving on to another book immediately. I need to come down from the inexplicable high I inevitably feel after becoming someone else. The journey back to reality is one I never hurry.
Reading. It does a body good. Thoughts?
Posted by Moogie at 06:11 PM | Comments (5)
May 17, 2005
Advice for Women
Here's some good advice for all of you women out there. I'd probably print this out and put it on the refridgerator to help you cope. What do you think ladies?
********************************************
1. Don't imagine you can change a man - unless he's in nappies.
2. What do you do if your boyfriend walks out? You shut the door.
3. If they put a man on the moon - they should be able to put them all up there.
4. Never let your man's mind wander - it's too little to be out alone.
5. Go for the younger man. You might as well, they never mature anyway.
6. Men are all the same - they just have different faces, so that you can tell them apart.
7. Definition of a bachelor: a man who has missed the opportunity to make some woman miserable.
8. Women don't make fools of men - most of them are the do-it-yourself types.
9. Best way to get a man to do something is to suggest he is too old for it.
10. Love is blind, but marriage is a real eye-opener.
11. If you want a committed man, look in a mental hospital.
12. The children of Israel wandered around the desert for 40 years. Even in Biblical times, men wouldn't ask for directions.
13. If he asks what sort of books you're interested in, tell him cheque books.
14. Remember a sense of humour does not mean that you tell him jokes, it means that you laugh at his.
15. Sadly, all men are created equal.
Posted by Moogie at 06:12 PM | Comments (6)
May 16, 2005
Hospital Windows
"There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled."
The above quote, and the story that follows were sent to me by a friend via email. I felt the message was a good one, and wanted to share.
Whenever my world is black, with nothing but a blank wall to view, I hope I will be able to remember this message. What about you? Do you believe a blind man can see?
Read the story and let me know.
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.
Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.
The man by the window described how the window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. The man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band, he could see it...in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.
Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the man by the window had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate to describe such wonderful things outside this window.
The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."
Posted by Moogie at 07:43 PM | Comments (8)
May 14, 2005
Last 20 Keywords (in my stats)
"confessions of crossdresser in tights"
Yep, that'd be me.
Posted by Moogie at 10:48 AM | Comments (10)
25 Word Challenge Up and Running
This week, the 25 word challenge is being hosted by Meanderings. Come on over and participate! It's alot of fun.
Next week, the remarkable Mr. Thunder will be hosting.
What are you waiting for?
UPDATE: The oh-so-smooth-talker, Mr. Nit agrees. Come on over. It's getting hot over there. We'll leave the light on for you, unless you prefer we not.
Posted by Moogie at 09:59 AM | Comments (1)
May 13, 2005
What I want to be when I grow up
Apparently, I've not figured it out yet.
When I was growing up, I had many different career changes. First, I wanted to be a nurse, like my mother. There were many others. Police officer. Lawyer. Teacher. Veterinarian. You name it; I probably wanted to be it.
I went to college full time for a year after high school, and then quit, and started working full time. My first full time job was as a Document Control Engineer. I worked for that company for a year, and then followed in my father's footsteps and went to work for a major defense contractor. Nearly 23 years later, I'm still there.
When I started at my present company, I wasn't going to stay because I didn't want to be just a number in a big pond. I wanted to make a difference. I laugh at myself, because, obviously, I'm still swimming.
I started off as an hourly employee and held many different jobs: Logistics Clerk, Technical Typist, Administrative Clerk and Scientific Clerical Aid (fancy name for a secretary). Oddly enough, it was that last job, or mainly my boss, who got me promoted to a salaried employee.
I went into Product Assurance and held a variety of jobs there, eventually moving into Finance, which my boss felt would help add some things to my career. I moved around allot in Finance, doing a number of things, and had actually felt like I found my niche.
I've probably stayed in Finance (in some capacity) for the longest. When I got transferred here, I figured I'd do my time, and then start to look around to try something new.
But that was at least a few years away. Or so I thought. Over the past three years or so, I've been heavily involved in proposals, specifically in the non-labor aspect. It became even a bigger part of my job when I moved here. I pretty much can tell you any aspect about non-labor, and what goes into it. Well, that which has to do with the program I'm on.
Two weeks ago, a manager that I have been working closely with this year approached me. She offered me a job in her area. It's a perfect fit, considering my background. Much better hours. Very little overtime.
I agonized over the decision for quite some time. I had some pretty frank talks with my current boss but she believes that her employees need to make moves that will be the right ones for them. In other words, she didn't stand in my way.
I accepted the position, and, after all is said and done (I am trying to rid myself of the guilt), I feel really good about it. To be quite frank, I'm looking forward to the change.
But I feel guilty about leaving the organization so soon. They moved me here, lock stock and barrel, and I only came here a little over a year ago.
Here's an odd one. I really enjoyed my job until I finally decided to accept the new position (which, by the way, has a lot more potential for movement, which is one of the reasons I went for it).
That being said let me ask you something. If I loved my job before I accepted the new one, why am I so miserable there now?
If the political wheels that are rumbling are any indication, it's going to be a while before I can make the switch.
And that just pisses me off more.
Posted by Moogie at 04:42 PM | Comments (5)
May 12, 2005
The intricacies of English Language
Mo: Mom, I got to wash you like a hog.
Note to readers: The interpretation would be "I've got to watch you like a hawk."
Posted by Moogie at 07:37 PM | Comments (6)
May 11, 2005
I don't get it
When I read things like this, I just don't get it.
Bless you Laura and Krystal. May you rest in peace.
Posted by Moogie at 06:53 PM | Comments (3)
Pride Management 101
I fully admit that I am one of those moms. My children are the brightest, most talented, most intelligent children on the face of this earth. Any of you who have children should not be surprised by this statement.
You are? Come on. Haven't you ever thought to yourself that your child outshines any other?
Ok, let's not count the times that their brain stem disconnects from their spinal chord and there is no sign of activity. It comes with the territory, does it not?
There are days that my chest feels as though it's going to explode, and I'm going to pop all the buttons on my vest. My child did that. Isn't she the best?
I'm one of those parents that have to fight back tears at a concert, or at a softball game when my child hits a home run, or catches a pop up in the bottom of the last inning. Or reads me a book from cover to cover, only asking for help on three words. Or gamely tries a new food at someone elses house, and discovers that it's not so bad after all. The list is endless.
I have no favorites. Well, I do but they are each my favorite in their own way. We are best friends, in that "I'm still your mom though" kind of way.
I try hard to be a strong presence in their lives. I know all of their teachers by their first names. I've got a good relationship with all of their friends. Lord knows, I've become a pro at the whole sleepover thing, thankfully, my house seems to be the place they like to hang out.
I need only to look at them, or raise my voice slightly to let them know that they have displeased me, and it breaks their heart. I love them even when they scream "I HATE YOU!" because I have done something, such as make them take responsibility for their actions, or some other horrible, unspeakable, crime I have committed. My response is automatic. "That's ok, I love you enough for the both of us." As a side note, this is not generally well received.
I've just got to be doing something right. When that child of mine catches that pop up, or makes that home run, and she searches for me in the stand, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. And I in turn, smile at her, give her the thumbs up, and sign "I love you."
There are days when I want to shout "STOP!" Stop growing up. Stop becomming independent. Stop moving away from me. But then I think about my job. To guide them. To help them. To help sooth the emotional hurts. To help them understand. And when they take those steps away from me, I am so proud. My child did that. Without me. I had a hand in it.
Letting go is hard, but as a parent it's what I need to do. I teach them the best way I know how, and then watch them grow and learn. And hurt. And recover. Don't get me wrong. I'll always be there when they need me. But some things they must learn to do on their own.
It's so difficult to put the feeling of pride, or love even, into words. It just IS.
Can you relate?
Posted by Moogie at 06:03 PM | Comments (6)
May 10, 2005
Blog Western - Part IV
OMG...that absolutely lovely AND talented Miss Kelley has done did posted her chapter up ALREADY. I tell you folks, It only gets better with each chapter.
Next up, on this prime time, ready for TV, novel is the the most handsome and talented (make sure you are sitting near a fan) Mr. Straight White Guy hisself.
For those of you just entering this wild ride, read the first three chapters before moving on to Kelley's. Otherwise, it won't make much sense.
Here is Chapter 1, and Chapter 2, and Chapter 3.
The rest of the lineup is as follows:
Chapter 6 - May 27 - Pammy
Chapter 7 - June 3 - VelociGod
As the dashing young Dax would say, Just Damn!
And don't forget to go say "hey" to my seriously intelligent, and loving sister who is the brain child of this masterpiece.
Posted by Moogie at 07:16 PM | Comments (3)
Feeling Stressed?
Click on the PIG.
Hat tip to Catfish.
Posted by Moogie at 05:57 PM | Comments (1)
May 06, 2005
Mother's Day Gift for a Soldier
Go read this post by Kelley, over at SuburbanBlight.
Now tell me you wouldn't pay her long distance bill (to the high school) if the call wasn't local.
Count me in Kelley. I got your back.
The article can be read HERE.
UPDATE: The website address of the school in question is HERE. They have all of the names, phone numbers and emails listed. I encourage you to write them.
Posted by Moogie at 03:28 PM | Comments (14)
Blog Western - Chapter 3 is up!
This just keeps getting better and better. The fabulous WitNit has abosuletly outdone himself with Chapter 3 of the Feisty inspired Blog Western.
For those of you who have just joined in, here is Chapter 1, and Chapter 2.
Next at bat is the lovely, and ever so talented Kelley.
The rest of the lineup is as follows:
Chapter 5 - May 20 - Eric (no more Chicken Kickers for this handsome young devil)
Chapter 6 - May 27 - Pammy (who waxes poetic about Anal Bleaching)
Chapter 7 - June 3 - VelociGod (the one remaining enigma paradox in my life.
I'm thinking that good old Stalking Wolf is gonna be TOAST!
Posted by Moogie at 01:16 PM | Comments (1)
May 05, 2005
Just a reminder folks
The Divine Miss Sadie will be answering all your questions for this week's installment of Diva Sez. So what are you waiting for? Anything is fair game. Submit your queries to Diva Sez by 11:59 PM Central Standard Time.
I'm about to do that now. So what are you waiting for?
Posted by Moogie at 05:28 PM | Comments (1)
When you want a job done right...
In the mail pouch today, was this little number straight from Sir Catfish. Since Sharon and Melonie are writing a book about marriage and all of the ingredients, I thought they would appreciate this one. Furthermore, my neighbor and counterpart in the on-going series of "Let's be Paranoid Together," Suzanne, who's husband is trying to garner "points", probably will enjoy this as well. After all, she just bought a motorcycle, and is temporarily driving a pickup truck. I'm waiting for the pictures of the gun rack and bumper stickers she's recently acquired. Gotta love a woman with an exploding cat. And of course, we can never forget my younger, though not as intelligent (she got all of the looks, lucky dog), Christina. She puts the Feist, back in Feisty, and her daughters (who excel in the Texas version of Kick the Can) seem to be following in this most talented lady's footsteps.
The FBI Recruitment Process
The FBI had an opening for an assassin. After all the background checks, interviews, and testing were done there were 3 finalists. Two men and a woman.
For the final test, the FBI agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun. "We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill Her!
The man said, "You can't be serious, I could never shoot my wife." The agent said, "Then you're not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."
The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about 5 minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes, "I tried, but I can't kill my wife."
The agent said, "You don't have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."
Finally, it was the woman's turn. She was given the same instructions, to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman. She wiped the sweat from her brow. "This gun is loaded with blanks" she said. "I had to beat him to death with the chair."
MORAL of the story: Women mean business. Don't mess with them!!
Posted by Moogie at 05:06 PM | Comments (3)
May 04, 2005
Dogs, cats and meatloaf
Seemingly innocuous, yes? Add thunder, lightening and rain that is coming down hard enough to exfoliate your skin with your clothes on. Mix it with some other odds and ends, and wham, bam thank you mam, I got wet.
I had volunteered to watch out for Seeley, which is this big, honking dog across the street with a face that looks like a brown bear. Besides my kids, I am the only one in my family that the dog will let near her, and she does not attempt to remove any of my appendages. Along with this huge, four legged monster, comes a despicable, vile, downright villainous creature, which I will call "Cat." Mainly, because I don't know its name.
My neighbors had left the garage door open part way so the feline could come in and out. This was also done for the brown bear, so that she could come out of the rain, because it does that allot around here. They forgot to tell me that she was stupid, not to mention stubborn.
It had started raining really hard on Saturday night. The kind of rain in which you couldn't see 3 feet in front of you.
I made the oh so brilliant observation to my devoted spousal unit while we were standing in the garage (my father-in-law, who was visiting at the time, was there with us) "Oh look, Seeley is just standing there out in the rain."
My spouse, being the wonderful man that he is, volunteered, yes VOLUNTEERED, to go out in the God forsaken weather and attempt to get her inside the garage. And do you know what I, the loving, adoring wife said? "Ok, but watch your butt. You remember what happened last time." Dayum, I love that man.
He plopped on his hat, grabbed the seriously powerful flashlight that came with his Tim the Tool Man Drill, and trudged across the street to let the dog in. Or so he thought.
Seeley saw him coming and made a break for the back yard. After following her around, and losing her several times, he gave up. And came back. Defeated.
It was at this point that I knew I had to go out there and get the job done. I grabbed his hat, and the flashlight, and marched across the street, intent on getting the dog inside the garage. I was wearing a t-shirt, sweat pants, slippers, and my husband's hat that I had removed gently from his head.
"If you don't hear from me in 5 minutes, I'm toast."
By this time, Seeley had resurfaced in the driveway so I walked slowly towards her, murmuring sweet nothings, and telling her what a wonderful, and good, and well-behaved dog she was. Ok, it was a little lie but there was no need to tell her that.
I began to pet her, crooning words of encouragement, even though she was extremely wet, and started making my way towards the garage door. It worked until we got about a foot away from the opening, and she turned and promptly made her way across the front yard, to the other side of the house.
There is a little walkway, wide enough for one person to fit through, with a chain-linked fence on one side, and a wooden fence (my neighbors) on the other side. The walkway goes all the way into my neighbor’s back yard. That's where the wooden fence stops. The back yard buts up against the woods. Did I mention it was dark? And that they have a lot of snakes in their yard?
I stopped at the end of the fences, regrouping my thoughts, and formulated another plan. I went back home, and got some leftover meatloaf that we had for dinner that night, and made my way back across the street.
Lo and behold, the dayum dog was standing in the farookin driveway again. Well, that was a good starting point anyway.
I called to her again, and she came over willingly enough, and I began to pet her again. Then, I took a piece of meatloaf, and held it out to her. She took it gratefully, because after all, she hadn't eaten since about two hours ago, and I make the best meatloaf this side of the Mississippi.
Aha. Now I've got her. Did I mention that by this time, the wind had picked up, and the rain was blowing sideways? My t-shirt was plastered to my body, my sweat pants weighed about 56 pounds, and my slippers were a thing of the past?
But dammit, no animal was going to get the better of me. I'm kind of stupid that way.
I slowly walked my way to the garage, feeding her little bits of meatloaf along the way. If I remember correctly, she even belched a few times, which in some countries, could be considered a compliment.
Since the garage door was open up knee level, I tossed a piece of meatloaf into the garage, fully intending to punch in the code on the box outside to close it. What I want to know is who the heck invited Murphy to this party?
The insipid feline had been watching my feeble attempts to lure the furry, four-legged creature inside, while perched upon the stool. The moment I tossed the meatloaf inside the garage, "Cat" swooped down off the stool and scooped it up, and ran for cover.
All bets were off at this point, and I was out for blood. Women will back me up on this, but a wet bra does not bring a pleasurable sensation to your body. To top it off, I had to keep pulling up my sweats because they were so water logged they kept slipping down my ass. This in turn, caused my panties to give me a wedgie. If I had been PMSing at this point, we would have not been having steaks for dinner the next night.
This time, I slowly led Seeley towards the garage door, bent down and got down on my knees, crawled through the opening, and kept coaxing her in. She went for it, and I rewarded her with a big peace of the meatloaf. I went over to the button inside, and closed the garage door. At this point, the cat decided that my slippers would be fun to play with. I had to physically peel her off my foot/leg. So now, I'm sopping wet, with a wedgie, and my sweats now have little threads hanging off the right leg.
I made my way through the house, to the front door. Oh wait, did I tell you that the neighbors have two small children? And that they have one of those doorknob thingies that make it impossible for you to open the door unless you possess a hulk like strength in your hands?
Luckily, it comes apart. Because people, I did not want to destroy anything in the house and I spent a got damn 3 minutes trying to open the door before I said "screw it" and ripped it off the door knob. I originally thought I had destroyed it, but later found out that you can disassemble it quite easily. Figures.
I trudged back to the house, where my darling, but now on my shit list husband, and loving father-in-law who can do no wrong, were waiting.
And do you know what my adoring husband said? "Honey, you're soaked through and through." Yes, he's observant, I know. Sometimes, just sometimes, I feel the need to whack him up side the head. Can your relate?
I went back inside, grabbed myself a glass of wine and headed into the bathroom for a much-needed soak in the bathtub.
I've always felt that if you wanted a job done right, you need to ask a woman to do it. And I had certainly proved my point that night.
Posted by Moogie at 07:44 PM | Comments (3)
May 03, 2005
The first victory
I don't think I can handle much more of this nail biting. I need to remember to bring oxygen to the next game.
Chickie's team won their first game tonight. People, she's psyched. And so she, and her team should be. They are really comming together. Like clockwork. Can you say TEAMWORK?
Even Saturday (let me pause here and say CHICKIE MADE A HOME RUN!), when they lost, they still played a good game. They've come so far.
So, while no one else is watching, I want to ask a question. Do you think it's bad of me when I chant under my breath "strike out, strike out, strike out", when a player from the opposing team is up to bat?
I just thought I'd ask.
Posted by Moogie at 08:47 PM | Comments (8)