These Boots Are Made For Walkin'

i wonder if a pair of nancy sinatra boots are hidden in this pile of rubbish. the pile reminds me of portobello road from bedknobs and broomsticks, anything and everything a chap can unload, but you have to be really dedicated to find gems among junk. but nancy sinatra boots would be gems, because i could put them on, zip them up, and start walkin'. where dorothy got no special power per se from wearing the ruby slippers, my boots would make me a bad-ass, and i could walk all over people. only bad people. people who make me cry. and the power in my boots would radiate up my body, into my hands so my finger could wag in faces, and my mouth would speak harsh truths i am normally too timid or fearful to say. yes, i think i will go the phillipines, find this pile, and dig for my boots.

if only i had a magic bed to fly me there.

(picture and topic furnished by mya)

In Emma We Trust

so emma is running for school treasurer.  this i love because a. it's super cute and b. i'm hoping she will be able to take over my finances by age 12.

my first suggestion for her campaign slogan was "i'll take kizzare of your kizzash" which she was not fond of.  i then suggested she henceforth refer to money as "benjamins" which she did not like either.  but when i suggested that she put her mug in the middle of green poster board with dollar signs in the corners and write "in emma we trust" i thought i'd struck gold for real.  she was hesitant.  in frustration i suggested "e. pluribus unum" and she left the room.

we decided on simplicity - line editing taught me that busyness detracts from the message.  so, after running all around town at 9pm trying to find play money, i finally found some at CVS (after 4 other stops) and her sign now reads EMMA LEE 4 TREA$URER.  The four is spelled out in fake coins, the poster is framed in fake bills, and her name is in tricked out florescent letters.  sweet.  she's very proud.

tomorrow we write her speech.  look out.

My Favorite Rumors

katie picked gossip.

i am okay if i am gossiped about. anyone who will talk to you about other people will talk about you to other people. i am okay with this. it's the way it works. perhaps this is because i have endured being the center of an entire community's gossip. one of my favorite rumors: i was pregnant by a black man, we were having twins, and then moving to london. perhaps this is why two weeks ago i had a very vivid dream that i was indeed the mother of black twins, girls, anna and rachel. i woke up very relieved that this was not reality. not because they were black, but as lawrence fishburne so eloquently put it in what's love got to do with it: "what am i gonna do wit two mo' kids?!"

i am a little proud to be the center of such a bizarre rumor. it's right up there with mikey from the life cereal commercials dying from eating pop rocks and drinking coke, alfonso ribiero breaking his neck breakdancing, and steve from blues clues dying of a drug overdose. and let's not forget the one about britney spears shaving her head and not wearing underwear in public... oh, wait.

so in light of this fantastic topic, i am going to start a new celebrity rumor: oprah is the antichrist.

pass it on.

I think I'm an Anti-Dentite

danielle chose dentists in the great topic revival.

it's not that i don't like the dentist. although most recently, while my mouth was propped open with a suction tube resting in my gums, my new dentist took the opportunity to share his political views, pentacostal policies, and fervor for the civil war and how the country would be so much better if the south had won.  he fell short of whistling dixie, but what better way to shove your beliefs down someone's throat than when her mouth is incapacitated and she owes you $900?

i told him stonewall jackson was my cousin in hopes of getting a discount but he just called for more suction and a different drill bit.

when i was young, getting a clean dental report card felt a bit like straight As (although i never got those until college).  no cavities!  good for you!  here's a free toothbrush and a toothy character nightlite.  but as i got older and my mother no longer scheduled my appointments, the dentist fell to the wayside, as did my dental health.  i think this is common.  that's what i tell myself anyway.

i mean, i don't have meth mouth.  (actually, the billboards in north carolina make me feel better about myself.)  but the shame of not going to the dentist made me not go the dentist, and so on and so forth, and on and on and on, and pain in my stomach when i thought about it, and fear of being shamed, and so on and so forth, and then severe pain i could no longer ignore, then a root canal.  and a few fillings.  and a cleaning procedure that my hygienist compared to pressure washing one's house.

so, $2500 later, i am proud to say i am back to straight As.  but i don't like going to the dentist, and i don't like the correlation between my dental health and my mental health.  i wish there were fillings for my brain. 

Sorry, Dear Gustav

Dear Gustav,

Thanks for you interest in visiting me – you are one among many suitors. While I am flattered, I must decline your invitation at this time. My areas are already flooded from previous relationships that didn’t work out (the others “moved on”) and I’m really not ready for your hurricane-force love. I am still trying to clean up the broken promises and shattered dreams that litter the yard of my heart.

Please understand. Perhaps if you veer out into the Atlantic and try again in another couple of weeks, things will be different. But for now, I ask that you please respect my wishes. I am a Category 5 in emotional instability.

Thanks and good luck,

Me

So Many Choices, So Little Deliciousness

i have not blogged since october 2007.  if you continue to check my blog, i apologize for your certain torture in viewing photoshopped photos of me, despite their burgess wonderfulness.

as of now, i've got a whole lotta nothin' - but, if my sweet friends are still interested, how about a weekly topic revival?

this week - food courts.

Baby Loves Katie Burgess

why? first, she came to the football game. second, she makes online photo albums about baby, just like she said.



nobody puts baby in a trash can.



nobody puts baby in a bunny suit.


nobody puts baby on a cake.


nobody puts baby in a trailer.


nobody puts baby in a corner.


nobody puts baby in an aquarium.

and, quite possibly my favorite...

nobody puts baby on some chick's back.


baby loves her some katie.

Nobody Puts Baby in a Trash Can

the musical.

Flirty Cooking

when i broke my ass, i ceased running. and blogging. i am trying to resume both habits because they are good for body and mind and soul, but it is always slow starting back. when i think, i should go run, or gee, i should blog, i inevitably find myself mesmerized by another law and order rerun. or a chocolate cookie.

danielle chose cooking, and katie chose flirting, so i am combining the two topics in order to expedite service and catch up.

i once saw a show on cults that described a witnessing technique used by young women in the group called "flirty fishing." they would go to bars, seduce men, bring them home, do the nasty, then try to convert them in bed. i'm not making this up. they even backed it up with a bible verse.

i suppose a flirty cook might wear only an apron with high heels while she kneeds the biscuit dough. she may also use double enterdres about her cooking like, "i love the feel of these (meat) balls," or "could you come in here and taste my niblets?" it's pretty hot in the kitchen, and i haven't even turned on the oven yet.

now in my head i'm singing "cookin' flirty" to the tune of "ridin' dirty."

I Will Survive

so now i'm back... from outer space!

i came out of my self-imposed blogging hibernation to find things not as they were. the topics are gone. the band broke up. everyone is using facebook.

i could give an update as to my whereabouts and activities, but this would be long and tedious for me and you, gentle reader. all i can say is, if you'll have me, i'd like to return to the fold.

but do i have to join facebook? my next million dollar idea - i'd like to create a web community called "assbook" where one can join and "enemy" people. you can look up that bully from grade school, or the girl who stole your boyfriend in high school (no she di'int!), or the PE coach who called you lead butt o'brien. once you find them, you invite them to be your enemy, and you swap nasty comments.

it's just in the idea phase right now, but i think it's up there with b's Inside Magazine: For People Who Don't Like to Go Outside.

New Topic

bloggies - sorry for my delinquency in picking a new topic.

this week: going to the doctor.

ORCA: A Killer Movie

keegan came home the other day with a new obsession - the movie ORCA. he says it's supposed to be like Jaws, only better. he says they were made around the same time and ORCA was just overlooked. he called every video store in town with no luck. i say what does that tell you? he tells me to shut up.

he says at this point, it's no longer about the movie - it's about the hunt. he must find it. and, he finally does. so i go to this dinky little video store in killearn and rent the VHS. he wants me to watch it with him. i say no way. about eight hundred times. last night, i gave in.

the movie was made in 1977 and bo derek probably wants to forget she was in it. a shark hunter decides to set his sights on a killer whale, thinking it will bring big bucks from an aquarium, and bo derek deftly foreshadows the tragedy to come: "you know whales are monogamous. that means they have one mate their whole lives. we could be breaking up a family."

the harpoon nicks the male target and hits his female mate. she writhes and squeals. then she swims into the boats propeller in an attempt to commit suicide. when they pull her in, she is bleeding, and then a grotesque mass bulges from her privates, and her young fetus falls on the deck. the male has lost his love and his unborn child, so now, you guessed it - he's pissed.

the female dies, and the male (i call him willy) stalks the fisherman, wreaking havoc on the small fishing village where he lives. he bites off bo derek's leg. he sets the town on fire. the villagers become angry with the fisherman, urging him to go out to sea and "fight" (this is what the whale wants). and, in a cleverly placed dramatic plot point, we learn that years earlier a drunk driver killed the fisherman's pregnant wife. he feels the whale's pain. they are one.

in a moby dick like chase, he follows the whale into icy seas, the whole crew dies, and he falls in the water and the whale waves his great fluke and tosses the man onto an iceberg, crushing his skull. vengeance is willy's.

so, ORCA - Jaws meets Moby Dick meets Free Willy. it's a horror/suspense/drama. but i've never laughed so hard in all my life.