Uhhhh…

Again, I had no intention of posting again this soon from my last, but what else was I supposed to do?  I had no choice, I tell you!  I was searching for outdoor toys/climbers for the boys and kept following links to other things.  What do I find instead of the toy I am searching for?  Overstock.com is apparently branching out into the funerary business…No kidding.  They are now selling caskets, urns, you name it.  My mind is befuddled by this finding.  Is this serious?  Aren’t there some kinds of state laws that prohibit this?  What is going on in America?  Possibly something along these lines?:

[I will start by noting that the body receptacles happen to be listed under "health and wellness"]

“It was a lovely funeral Jim, but…” 

“Why thank you.  It was all made possible by Overstock.com.” 

“It’s just that it’s a little awkward, you both still being alive and all.” 

“Well, we were drawing up our will, and Nadine decided she wondered what type of funeral we would have, and well, we just got to looking, and all of the planning and organization that was already going on just sort of had us on a roll.  We couldn’t stop planning!  You know, funerals cost so much these days, and then we thought, ‘Well, why don’t we lock in today’s prices for our future demise?’  Nadine did some searching, and what did she find but the new offerings at Overstock.com.  I tell ya, it was a treasure-trove, a regular wet-dream for a couple of taphophile’s!  Then, we couldn’t decide on an urn or a casket, traditional or modern, so we just decided to go for broke and do it the way we wanted to, while we could enjoy it!  I mean, we were in the market for a new bed anyway, so we can get plenty of use out of these before we ever start our dirt-naps!  I mean, how could we resist?  It all ships for 2.95; the food, the music, the video, the clothes, all of it!  Even the garden seats for the service!”

“Um, right.  So, will I see you at work Monday, or does this mean you will be ‘calling in dead?’”

Health and wellness, huh?  If this is the end result of using Overstock’s health and wellness items, I think I will steer clear of them altogether…  Not that I am the least bit squeamish, mind you.  I have a big taphophilia streak within…it just seems really wrong.  Like the same kind of wrong as if K-mart started offering the same items.  I mean, you can plan the funeral, buy your mourning clothes, a video camera, a tv on which to play the video back, and probably a good bit of the ready-made food.  This is just wrong.  Well, it does all ship for $2.95… 

That just reminded me, amongst the oddities of funerary/mortuary services offered, there’s the Gem of them all, which I think most people assume I am fibbing about.

Maybe finding the Overstock link was a means for the beyond to guide me into not purchasing the toy that I was looking for after all…  Maybe I need to find something safer for the boys.

Pru

Our First Rogue Wall Art!

  In the tradition of centuries of cave artists, Finn is proudly following in their footsteps.  He takes after his mother, who carved and wrote, “I hat mom and dad,” and numerous other abominations anywhere she could find a blank space.  I have to admit that I am thankful Finn doesn’t understand he can use the pencil/crayon for public displays of juvenile displeasures (of which he apparently has plenty).  For now, I am satisfied that he seems to be using his space creatively.  What might it be?  A heart?  He and Liam?  A display of Oedipal/mammarian undertones?  Those are all the suggestions of others.  I thought it was a skull, probably mine.  That, or because of its location, and the time it probably occurred, it could be a fruit-fly.  I seem to recall swatting a fly, and then seeing Finn mimic me, but remaining focused on the wall a little longer than usual.  He’s an odd child.  When he dances, he does the Monkey…and no, we did not teach him that, it was a complete coincidence, and we are trying to figure out where he learned it.  It is a bit more interpretive though.  He keeps his hands like pincers, and his movements are very precise, very slow.  Whereas Liam, well, he likes to rub his belly with his sweet moves.

We have many lovely pieces of art, which I treasure, hanging on our walls, and now, I have one more to add to that.  It sits right above the dog bowls, next to the trash can…and I imagine that it will sit there until Nana gets here next weekend.  If I had my way, it would just stay there forever.  I might even paint a frame around it, or just cut it out of the drywall.

Will says grumbly things when I start mentioning Lebowski mini-fest, or a National Talk Like a Pirate mini-Yargh-down.  So, my new plan is to complete the demolition of the remaining carpet in the house and gussy up the concrete floors with some acid stain.  After that’s done (how long could all of that possibly take, right?) I will instead plan on having a Proust Fest with what else, but Madeleinesand tilleul tea, and maybe toast, as it seems to be what Proust was really dunking into the tilleul.  I have to say that I appreciate his replacing toast with madeleines, as they are quite a bit tastier than toast. 

So, where was I going?  Oh yeah, the floors.  Will has had plenty of grumblies and not a lot of conviction about the floor issue…my dining room and kitchen are still a sort of floor-grotesque.  They are floors…but, they don’t belong in any manner of livable space, or polite company (of which we know very little anyway ).  We have been ignoring the fact that we have a dining room for so long now, that when we used it last, I stepped on a mummified frog, several bits of worm-jerky, and some other stuff whose origins I do not wish to contemplate (apparently, these outdoor-belongy things are attracted to exposed concrete). 

Heck, that’s what G can do for me.  He can give me a hand with the floors, because I cannot abide them as they are.  I’ll even make him a cup of tea, and serve the madeleines on a doily.

So, I guess what it will boil down to is me scraping and cleaning and staining the concrete, and having my own little tea party, possibly while I watch Captain Jack Sparrow, The Dude, or my current favorite guilty pleasure, “Jack of All Trades“…eeeeeee!

Sound like fun?  You are more than welcome to join me!  I’ll hand you a face mask, a scraper, a set of “shpackle” knives, and we’ll make it an event to rival the [insert "fest" of choice here] of the year.  C’mon!  You know you want to!  Just be careful to avoid accidentally cleaning off any of our new artwork.  For that’l cost you all of your madeleines and tea!

Pru

WCGGM?

That is, “What Could God Get for Me?”  I don’t like posting so frequently, but I felt the need.  Went to get the vacuum a new belt.  Apparently, that’s what the problem was.  Vacuum didn’t think it was fashionable enough…and its pants were falling off.  I know the feeling.  At some point in Pru’s weight-loss she realized that she was using belted pants to hold up her under…uhhh, never mind. 

As we pulled into the parking lot to get the ever so fashionable new matte-black  belt for the vac, another car pulled up in front of us (wow, lots of prepositions there).  I actually had to rub my eyes (have been seeing double since I need a new eyeglass rx), because I couldn’t believe what the tire cover on that giant H2 Hummer said, which was this:”And look what the lord giveth!” 

I’ll just let your mind wander as mine enjoyed doing… 

But seriously, that also makes me wonder, “what could God do/get for me?”  A full-time nanny?  A cleaning staff?  Heck, as long as he’s apparently doling out the goods, I just want my cut.  I’ll settle for a new pair of jeans and a really great top.  It doesn’t have to be an H2, and I’m not comfortable with him touching me either.

Hmmm…Betty Bowers needs to know about this.

Oh, and guess what?!  I fixed the vac all by my little self!  Wheee!  Makes me feel almost as good as the time the Ungulate and his wife talked me into fixing/replacing the oven element.  Funny things always seem to happen on the way to the repair shops, or in them.  I guess I need to hang out in those places more often.  Also, it’s always fun to argue with total strangers about whether or not the boys are twins. 

Stranger: “Wow, they look really close!  How far apart are they?”

Pru:  “Um, about 6 minutes.”

Stranger:  “Well, they can’t be twins, are they related?”

Pru:  “You can’t actually be serious?”

Stranger:  “They have the same mother?”

Pru:  “Yeah, you’re lookin’ at her.”

Stranger sees the ire building in Pru’s eyes and slowly backs away.

 

Stranger than strangers,

Pru

Filth!

I have yet to get to the vacuum to see what is ailing it.  In the meantime, I was watching the boys scoot around the floor this morning, and decided, “why not have them clean the floor with their booties?”  It seems to be working, though they are neither consistent nor thorough. 

I have also discovered that Finn is a cherry fiend!  He freaks out if there you haven’t properly prepared and dispersed them around his plate, or if there aren’t as many as he thinks he wants.  The great thing about cherries is that they create pretty realistic “blood.”  I watched in total fascination as my boys showed me that zombie grossness is just inherent–they, having inherited it from Pru.  Finn likes to let the juice pool up in his mouth and then let it dribble out with chunks of cherry.  Really nice effect.  The sound effects were provided by Liam, who does an awesome zombie impersonation.  Did I get photos or video?  No.  He was demanding that I prepare more, so I was busy accommodating the beast.  I guess it is sort of disturbing to see an infant vampire/zombie…and Finn does look and behave a bit like that “e-trade” baby… We’re sure he talks like that when we aren’t around, we just hope he has the good sense to never hire a clown, for any length of time. 

So, while the butt-scoot-races across the floor work pretty nicely for sweeping, I still have to pick up all of the fluff off of their hinders…would really rather not touch the filth at all…gotta look at the vacuum and figure this problem out.  Did you know that there areGalactic Dustbunnies?  It’s true.  Soon, we will have them in our home, with the herds of dust-buffalo, dust bunnies etc.

The filth in my home now has filth of its own.  I realized that when I write of cleaning that everyone who knows me is reading in disbelief, as it is well know that my style of cleaning usually involves keeping a broom or mop visible in the space that I wish cleaned.  It’s really more like a hopeful gesture, a sign that maybe it will get done…like my writing of this post.  For if I am writing, I am busy, and so the conspicuous tag at the bottom of my screen that reads, “FleshedOut.doc,” doesn’t make me feel so badly that it isn’t getting the attention it deserves.  But it does nothing to decimate the herd of dust-buffalo still roaming my floors.  They have become rather more numerous, even a bit belligerent, thanks to the busted vacuum. 

Going to get started on something, I swear it!

Pru 

Which Witch Watchers?

My broom is busted, and by broom I mean vacuum cleaner.  There are now two busted vacuums in my house, loads of dog hair on the floors…cheerios, and my favorite…rice.  Why the rice?  Because I am retarded a genius!  I bought a beach toy for the boys.  You know, one of those funnels atop several wheels that rotate when sand or water is introduced?  Well, we have had rainy days, and I am hesitant to head back to the beach any time soon…so, I decided to use it indoors with, what else but rice?!  Ingenius!  The boys decided it was much more fun to sit in the huge box with the rice, threw out the toy, and just dumped rice around my floor.  Even the dogs joined in the fun.  Rice is still everywhere, and that may be the reason my vacuum is broken.  To top things off, the kitchen light is burnt out.  Which sounds like a small thing until one realizes that I have to do something to keep the boys out of the kitchen (preferably without their screaming–because I have had all I can take), I have to find the right sort of light, pile everyone into the car, pick it up and maneuver it and the strolly through the paces of the Home Depot or Lowe’s, and then pile everyone back into the car and try to figure out how the heck I am going to get the ladder from the garage, without the kids screaming or being stepped on, or climbing up the ladder (I trust that Finn will be the only one to attempt such a feat, as he climbed our step-ladder before he could walk), and keep the boys out of the garage (because we all know there’s just too much crap in there).  Glass, kitchen, ladder, pirate twins…none of those things are good together.

The only thing that could honestly make my week better is knowing that I am going to get royalties for the new Lost Boys movie.  I am, right?  I mean, the return of the Frog Brothers is awesome (even if it is bad), and they mention Suckmonkey.  I think a cash exchange for name use is only right, no?  Especially since the line is, “Your sister’s a Suckmonkey,” and I am indeed a sister and Suckmonkey.  Who wrote this movie anyway?  I am going to get to the bottom of this.  How did they know?

Also, I experience ecstasis every time I think about the new Indiana Jones movie, even though I have yet to see it (and I am certain it will be awful–I mean, who the heck is that stoopid kid anyway?  Where’s Short-Round?  I sure hope he’s in it too).  Why ecstasis?  Because, when I was a child that was who I wanted to be.  Well, either an Archaeologist/Anthropologist or Virginia Woolf.  Now, if someone could make a movie that combined the two, that would just put me over the moon! 

Which brings me back to witches and their brooms…and why the heck do my vacuums break every three weeks?  A service tech once told me that they weren’t meant to suck up all of that hair–what?  You can’t be serious.  What are vacuums meant for if not sucking up pet hair, rice, paper, bugs, and generally anything which I do not wish to pick up and throw away?  Nonsense.  Someone has to make a vacuum that someone such as myself can use with abandon and count on not to break.  Otherwise, it is just a message from the universe that I should stop cleaning.  On second thought, I am not sure I want to see the boys running around looking like small primates, with dog hair stuck to every sticky/wet surface.

Nope, this witch has to go get her broom fixed. 

Pru

Martinizing Vs. Simonizing

Questions like this plague my brain for hours.  What is the purpose?  Who were Martin and Simon?  Why did they invent these processes?  What are they?  Are they different?  Lastly, why do I care?

I don’t.  I don’t care at all, but like many of the things that I don’t care about, it seems to eat away at the bulk of my “free” time.  I used to have “sittin’ around time,” but those days are long gone…and, I suspect, never to return.  Which brings me to the notion that anyone could ever possibly be bored. 

Honestly, it surprises me to hear anyone proclaim boredom.  How on this Earth, is anyone ever bored?  I have to make lists of things in the order of importance/fun, to do when I am not having to do something else…  It takes me so long to decide how I am actually going to use my “free-time” that I go sort of catatonic with the pressure of deciding what to do…and then the time is gone.

In my search for the difference between Martinizing and Simonizing, this is what I found…and I don’t remember what the difference was, other than I know that the article was great, and meant for a mind like mine.

http://www.salon.com/jan97/shoales970120.html

“I can get you a toe…”

I am toying with the idea of hosting a “Lebowski fest” (well, a small-scale one)…but it might turn into a National Talk Like a Pirate fest…but, truth be told, this idea is most likely to fizzle and die, as most of my fancy ideas do.  Perhaps that’s for the best. 

Amongst all of the strange little goings-on in my world, and the odd thoughts that not even I can fathom a reason for thinking, I have decided that this guy:

Ralph Covert, makes me uncomfortable.  I am disquieted by his depression.  I know he is depressed, and severely so.  Just look at the man.  He makes music for children, and it all has a certain tinge of despair, anxiety, or melancholia, and I can’t even tell you where…I just feel it.  Doesn’t he make anyone else uncomfortable that way?  It’s like a guy playing happy, upbeat music on the street-corner, but the whole scene just makes you really depressed…you know there’s a history there, and you just feel so badly for him, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him, let alone put money in his case.  I even felt that way when I bought his music! Like I would be contributing to a long drunk somewhere, as he contemplates his rock past that has turned into kiddie-folk.  What’s that all about?  Ralph?  Smile like you mean it, man, or start writing for angst-ridden teens.  I can’t listen to you anymore, it just makes me cry, and I don’t have time for that.

Speaking of things I don’t have time for, I requested an inter-library loan from another University, and the book is crap!  It looks like someone tried to start a library fire with it, but became disinterested or got distracted half way through, and then decided to use it for a kleenex.  Well, maybe the kleenex part came first.  Half of the pages are missing, the other half are either stuck together, were stuck together, and now the print is missing, or someone went “note-happy” all over them.  Our library does indeed have this particular book, however, someone (and I think I know who it is) has it checked out until something like September of 2012!  Sheesh!  With the inter-library loan, I got a whole two weeks to interpret the totally hosed book.  I’ll show them.  I am taking the boys with me when I return it.  I’m not really sure whom that’s supposed to show what to, but it will.  For, my monkeys are in a rare form today, and this eeevil trinity is going on a rampage.  Even Finn knew the book was messed up when he flipped through the pages.  They don’t check these things before they send them out, or put them back on the shelves?  Blasphemy to treat a book in such a way.  Finn actually looked frightened when he saw the damage, and looked at me as if to say, “I did not do that!”  He knows of my book rage.  Liam even pointed and shook his finger, just like he does when he sees that I am watching him destroy his own books.

Where does a pirate keep his dog?  In the Yaaaard. 

Abide ye “Verlets” and “Hamiltonians!”

 

Pru

Lurkers, and the Posters of…Um, creepy.

This Lurker of a paper weight can be yours, for only $125! 

Not real sure what’s happening here, but I am certain it has something nefarious to do with the Mickey Mouse (see, I knew it!)  Are those boils?  Pustules?  Ta-tas?  Hiding behind fingers that type, keeping to the shadows…because he has no teeth, a harelip, and a sausage for the lower lip or tongue – depending, of course, on interpretations of the sausage-y thing below the gums.  Of course, that leaves the worm-like thing on the side of the face…or is it a vacuum hose?  Oh, and the fur…Obviously this lurker is not a vegan.

 

This guy comes from a British geekly webshop.  Not that geek-shops are bad.  They are not.  I have seen better miniatures, irregular or otherwise.  I mean, is this a “lurker” or a turtle?  Or maybe he’s been traveling a long time by foot, and is simply in need of some water.  Either way, I am not real frightened of him.  Seems too lethargic to do much damage.  Definitely a web-lurker…too much time in “Real Life,” or some other such mind/time-sucking non-active action.

My “harmless” Google search for ”Lurker” art also lead me to the Church-o’-Satan’s website (I have a terrible habit of following the web-path that “angels fear to tread,” but which I am apparently too inquisitive to avoid.  So, of the paintings on the website, which I will not post or link to (you know, don’t want to get into trouble with those guys), I will simply say, for Satanists, you’d think they could acquire better artists/skills…  Not that the artists featured are really bad artists.  I’m just sayin’, if you are in league with the “His Dark Beastliness of Malevolence,” if you are going to do some sinister bartering with the “Red Guy,” you might hope for a more astounding leap in skill.  Again, I’m just sayin’ that maybe someone needs to review a certain contract they may or may not have signed, and the agreements contained therein.  

Ah, see what I will do for my friends?  Walt?  I am probably on some horrid lists now, due to my Googling, and the dark recesses of the internet to which it has lead me.  I am certain to be cursed now   Cursed, at least, with yet another nap-time spent doing things other than writing of any importance.  Argh.

Hey, speaking/writing of “Arghs,” which are pretty close to “Yaaars,” it appears that the Nick-toons channel is going to have a “Yaaarathon!”  Wheee! Are they combining that with “National Talk Like a Pirate Day?”  Did I miss it this year, or has it not occurred yet?

Odd day.

Satan’s Onion out,

Pru.

 

We can’t wait for Smekday!

Last weekend, or maybe even the one before that, we went on a search for a new bedtime book for the boys.  Don’t get me wrong, we love Berk Breathed, and adore Opus, but the idea that each of us can now recite the entire book without seeing a single page, is somewhat alarming.  It means that we have read Goodnight Opus far more than 210 times…and the book, she is battered and torn. 

Perusing the bookstore shelves for something with a suitable rhyme, yet sturdy enough to withstand our tough-guys, I quickly realized that I was not going to get the combo that I wanted.  Durability means stodgy writing.   It means board books and toddler words.  The boys don’t have time for toddler words.  They want action, and frankly, I don’t blame them.  I gave Finn a “pop-up” variety of board-book to look at, while Will searched through the stacks.  I should have known how that was going to end…as all of the pop-up books that entered this house have exited in bits and pieces via the garbage can. 

Will came back victorious, except for the fact that it was another “good” book, which meant that it had actual paper pages.  It was FrankensteinMakes a Sandwhich, by Adam Rex…  I thought I knew that name, but didn’t think much more about it.  The day wore on, and then the boys ripped through some of my old stuff and found Chris Harding’s comics; and so, I did what I always do, I googled.  I was so happy to find that he is still creating, still animating! 

 

He didn’t have any of “Masked Galloot” strips up, but he did have some of these… (from long ago and far away at the University of Arizona).  Chris Harding did several strips for the Daily Wildcat, and he is now doing an odd, (and really funny) little strip, and some great animation.  He also had links on his page, which lead me back to Adam Rex.  Of course!  He also had a comic strip in the Daily Wildcat!  And here is his page, his fab art, and links to all of the books he has written and illustrated!  http://adamrex.com/

Ten Reasons to Read Adam Rex’s Smekday!  He has such a fabulous sense of humor, and an amazing talent for art, how could you go wrong?  Do you even need ten reasons, after visiting his site or reading one of his books?

It feels so good to have a connection to these guys, even though they have no idea this fan exists, she still is one.  Big fan.  Huge.  Maybe it’s a shared commonality of Manic Depressive creativity?  Maybe I can appeal/plead/beg/grovel to Mr. Rex’s artistic prowess, when my children’s book is ready to leave the comfort of its little folder inside my PC…

Pru