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?