Flathead: Not The Screwdriver

Shoot. I missed Ghost Whisperer. AND it was To Be Continued. Double whammy.
At least my head will be well-protected when I hit the wall in distress.
What was she wearing? What were the dead people wearing? How will she help them if she can't get anyone else to see them? Why isn't she scared that she's always being stalked by dead people?!
I've got a helmet.
It is pink.
Truth be told, the helmet is for the Vespa. It doubles as an at-home safety accessory and bowling ball and hair smasher-down-er.

Combating Obsesity and Inflexibility at the Same Time

Today I did the sit-and-reach. I found the contraption had been left out, so I saddled up. Reference my visual aid at left. There was no Presidential Fitness Standards Scale around to chart my success. Still, it went pretty well. So I placed myself in the 99th percentile.

The Bangles: Where Are They Now?

On my feet and hands and ears.
I'm decked in finery because last night my sweet Indian friend, MW, hosted dinner for Matt and me*. Her parents are far away across oceans and continents; we've appointed ourselves surrogate eaters. Being a connaiseur** of Eastern food, Matt made some gentle and informed inquiries about the dishes. The highlight being, "Is this naan?" and the response: "We call it bread."

*And apparently dinner includes jewelry. Who knew?
**Not technically, but if consumption measured specialization...

Authority is Equal Parts "Author" and "Ity" and "Lies We Tell Ourselves"

When a kid cusses you out in the hall and you let him get away with it you are
a. a sucker.
b. never going to hear the end of it.
c. not a teacher because he would have been suspended for insubordination before the word got out of your mouth.
d. stuck talking about it with the social worker to solve it "without taking the other route."
e. a sucker.
f. multiple-choice blogging to show the true extent of your disciplinary impotence.

For The Adamantly Un-religious

I have a church at which I am active. It does not mean I am better than you. [Ok, I am a little bit better just because I was a vegetarian for a little bit, a little bit ago. Don't ask me if I ate chicken. I did not. When you are a vegetarian, you don't eat chicken. But you may be surprised by how many people will ask. So many.] By mentioning my religious activity or affiliation when you ask me pointedly where I was this weekend, I am not attempting to sway your spiritual inclination this way or that.
I don't like swaying anyway because it reminds me of middle school spring concert choreography.
I just wanted you to know that I had a wonderful time talking about JESUS with a bunch of beautiful CHRISTIANS, including lots of CATHOLICS. And we prayed for your soul.

Limelight? I Look Better in Blue

Who will write me some lyrics?
I'd like the song to include the following theme or line: "Hungry enough to eat my arm, but I'm saving my lunch for lunchtime."

A Hoss Was Born

Judy Garland's classic re-worked. Entirely. In fact, all we'll keep is part of the name...
Our dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. Squab, welcomed a new, smaller, girl-version of themselves tonight by way of C-section and a few beers.
Ouch!
Ok, the drinks were mine... Rimshot!
Ok, the drinks were the doctor's... Rimshot!
Congratulations, you two. But seriously, lay off the sauce. You've got a baby to think about.

Of No Liturgical Significance

Our Easter here at the Hot Sauce household included multiple family bonding experiences. Clarence (the bear) shows our musical selection during house/food preparation.


Jack (the cousin) models how our game of speed Scrabble degenerated into a Celebrity Jeopardy caliber competition: "Make a sentence with your letters. Actually, you can even steal other people's letters to make sentences that don't really make sense or promote healthy lifestyle choices."


Hannah (another cousin) produced some Jabberwocky sentences, which I will not post here lest she call me out for copyright infringement. Very enterprising young people.

When I'm Sixty-Four

I will still want to steal giant blinking construction signs and say, "Jackpot" when they are piled on the side of the road.
I will still resist the temptation to put them in my neighbor's yard.

FYBU

There's this awesome project for Ugandan children, whose national language is English, but whose educations have been interrupted (destroyed?) by the chaos of war. When the children get to refugee camps and shelters, they get books written by well-intentioned kids across the ocean/world/universe.
I got a chance to peruse some stories before they were shipped off. My favorite title: "What Happens If You Turned Into A Potato?"

Lamentations or, An Open Letter to The World

Dear People,
Stop Dying.
Sincerely yours,
Loved Ones

Perhaps You and Your Wife Can Do Another Spiritual

I was in the midst of an existential crisis, so I went to see the priest* who assessed that my "problem is that [I] have no problem."
Walking out of the office, pleased, I called Matt to tell him. As if I were somehow freed.
And now I am insulted.
Indignant.
Impertinent and other "I" words.
Can't untouchable spiritual discomfort be a problem?
Days like today, though, you feel guilty for being sad. Sun came at just the right time. Like Reese Witherspoon holding a bowl of raspberries as you're Joaquin Phoenix coming out of serious detox.
Rising from the...ok. Too much.
I'm sure God loves similies like that. God, you really shone down on me today like a character from Walk The Line, and I appreciate it.


*I fought the compulsion to call him the "village priest" (because the whole experience sounds very down-home and yet, exorcising) but it would be inaccurate. We live in a city.

Subtract step 2 from step 1 (if the result is zero or less, enter 0)...

I have to put stamps on my freaking tax return? You're the government. You spy on people. You spend how much keeping our homeland secure? You can afford this. You just tell your U.S. Postal Service to hang out while we all send in our taxes for free.
And what if I didn't have a computer? And if I didn't want to go to the library where I could file a return and put all my information on a public computer! It's like telling a stranger your social security number. The cache might be set to hold everything. And cookies and whatever.
"Hello, Sir or Ma'am. Would you like to steal my identity and all of my routing information?"
I WON'T BE A CITIBANK COMMERCIAL. Or a TAX-IDENITY THEFT COMMERCIAL! OR ANY COMMERCIAL ABOUT MONEY OR THIEVERY!

Face-Eating Monster Baby Overtakes Blog Writer

Spring Shirt
Originally uploaded by xuarrac.

Sure, he seemed innocent enough. Until he pulled himself up on my lap careening for my face. "Aw, he wants to give me kisses." How wrong. Indeed, how foolish I was. His smile deceived me and I was bitten.
My cheek still bears his mark.
Beware this child!

Pimp My Break

Spring Break 2K6.
Aaaaaah ye-ah. Gettin crazy at tha homestead! Me and Momz headed out for a bite round abouts tha California Za Kitchen! What, wha??? Sipping on Ice Tea (not that shiznat from Long Izzzland, fool). All jacked up on caffeine and hummus.
This place is off tha chain!
Seriously.
I spent my day at the church and the mall and the dentist. And tomorrow I get to go back. A follow-up visit to repair some damage in the form of a(nother) cavity. In true SB tradition, I'm thinking of drinking heavily and tattooing myself before the appointment. And then requesting gold-plating because I deserve it and I'm tired of accessorizing.
Teeth, get thee to a fluoride-ery.
One of my dearest high school girlfriends loved the dentist. And she feared butterflies. And she had an appetite like a trash-compactor. Mandy, I have some teeth that need work, but I hate the metallic taste of the drill and I need someone to go in my stead. I will make it up to you by protecting you from winged creatures and feeding you toaster strudels.
Are you available around 9:30 tomorrow morning?