Hardly Evil at All

I bet if you took all the evil people in the world and laid them end to end (but not in any dirty kind of way), you would be surprised to find that not one of them was Me.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Still Not a teacher

Yet another reason I'm not allowed to be a teacher.  I'm afraid I might lack the impulse control necessary to refrain from telling a particularly annoying child that I saw their ORIGINAL birth certificate in their file, and they were part of a triple birth, sold off separately at a random farmer's market when they were a week old and their real name, as per the receipt/birth certificate, is Discount Lemonrot BoogerStick Nincompooper.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Hotter than Potter

(As usual, it all started on the Facebook...)

Dear Fellow Pot(ter) Heads:
*Please remind me if I'm a muggle or a huckle-puff, or what! I'm DEFINITELY NOT one of those snaky things, and I WILL be needing some decent powers, or I'm not playing!  And also I'd like an all black costume with hidden Spanx slimming materials underneath! And super-cute comfortable boots. 
No!  I changed my mind-INVISIBLE foot protection so I can do the popular barefoot Hot Coals Walk  in super-slow motion and put it on YouTube so everybody in the Whole World will know that I'm the BADDEST B.A. of them all, and then all my enemies will tremble in fear, begging me to spare their lives (and their faces!), and I'll be all: Maybe... What are y'all gonna do for Me and MY Fambly and Friends?  And then I'll base my actions on their responses.
So, considering the preceding information about me, WHAT does that make me in the Potter World? 
*Surprise announcement alert!* *Surprise announcement alert!*
SURPRISE ANNOUNCEMENT that nobody saw coming:  I'm finally ready to give in and join the craze and PLAY the Potter Game, so long as I don't have to read those crazy-long books or watch those movies that last longer than most presidential terms.

FullTime:  I don't know anything about Harry Potter, except what NineToFive posts on FB & Pinterest.

Enchiladas:  Me, too, FullTime! I just thought I'd try the Dark Side for a change!

NineToFive:  You can't PLAY at being a PotterHead. You either ARE or you aren't. I'm sorry, Enchiladas, but you are merely a muggle who happens to have 3 very magical daughters. Be very proud of that.

Enchiladas:  Oh, so just because I want a super awesome costume and a couple of simple powers, I can't be in your CLUB? It's Muddle School all over again!

NineToFive:  lol... you can still be in it. You just have to be a PotterHead.

Enchiladas:  Too little, too late, Chuckles!
I guess I have no other option. I'm making my own "Hotter than Potter" club now! And no one is allowed unless I say so. Our applicants must each pass a grueling obstacle course and an even more grueling psychological exam in order to even be allowed to LOOK at an application for possible membership.
And, here's the best part: OUR club has FIELD TRIPS! Lots and lots of Field Trips! Take that, Harry!
P.S. You can still be in it, NineToFive, because I love you, and I'll be the one grading the tests!

FullTime:  Okay what am I in Potter Speak?

Enchiladas:  I feel obligated to admit (as if it weren't obvious already) that I'm briskly unqualified to answer this, FullTime, but I'm gonna say you're probably a Muggle-Puff like me!  I think those are the BEST!  Plus, Muggle-Puffs together are even much BESTER than Muggle-Puffs alone!

FullTime:  So, What is a Muggle anyway?

Enchiladas:  Briskly= why auto correct put a word I've NEVER USED ON THIS PHONE in place of GROSSLY, I'll never figger out!
However, NineToFive, you're up.  Answer FullTime's question, please, because I can't.

(silence from NineToFive)
(more silence from NineToFive)

Enchiladas:  Oh, well, we'll just concentrate on our Hotter than Potter club instead.
Our Hotter than Potter club is Blood in and Blood out, like I overheard in a movie I wasn't really watching, unless they meant something violent by that phrase instead of just that all members must be old enough to understand by personal experience what "that time of the month" is all about.
Plus, once a year, on the most un-holy night of the year, as predicted by local weather celebrity Palm Reader, there shall be built an enormous bonfire during which we sacrifice all the pagan raisin cookies we've been given and that we've been saving all year long for just this occasion!  Be careful not to inhale while dancing around the blaze.  The fumes created by burning raisins are known to be the most toxic of all the common dried fruits.

NineToFive:  I'm sorry that I missed most of this conversation yesterday. I was extremely busy at work. It is an endless job here at the Ministry of Magic. But things have slowed down now. Enchiladas, I would LOVE to be in your club. And Im not excluding you from Potter world. I would love for you to be a fellow PotterHead!

Enchiladas:  Great! I'll start working on the Pledge and outfits immediately. Preliminary uniform idea: long or short sleeve Ts, with removable cloaks. The cloak itself has to be easily removable for all those times we will have to pretend to make it disappear!

NineToFive:  We could just get indivisible cloaks.

Enchiladas:  WHY didn't I think of THAT?  Yes!! And I betcha we can buy Justice for All at the same outlet store that sells INDIVISIBLE Cloaks! Welcome! You will receive your Secret Hotter than Potter Alias soon.
*I've been keeping busy avoiding most of the things I'm supposed to be doing in Real Life, but I should be able to check in again soon, IF my electronic devices can handle all the magicalism they are currently being forced to deal with.

NineToFive:  I will be eagerly awaiting my post. I'm very proud to be under consideration for club membership, but I'm not too keen on the name so far.

Enchiladas:  That's only because I haven't TOLD you what YOUR name is yet!  You're gonna £ove it!  The names will be bestowed at the "meeting" (location top-secret, AND undisclosed). Undisclosed means: you will be picked up (at an undisclosed time), blindfolded, and taken to the undisclosed location, where you will be expected to blindfoldedly prepare a feast for existing members.

By the way, Our shirts are probably going to say
HOTTER (in FLAMES on the front)
THAN (insert picture of George Ohr)
On the back! (because of copyright laws)

(more time passes uneventfully)

NineToFive:  The nargles are all in a fuss with mistletoe season right around the corner. — with KLaundry.

FullTime:  Do nargles not like Christmas? Muggle-Puffs like Christmas.  A LOT!

KLaundry:  Lol clearly this girl is a muggle if she doesn't know what a nargle is.

NineToFive:  lmao ... she IS a muggle. FullTime, nargles live in mistletoe.

Enchiladas:  There's NO WAY Nargles can build houses out of mistletoe! I took a Botany course at the junior college and the professor (who looked exactly like Colonel Sanders) said even EGGPLANT (which I raised one of almost all by myself, for a grade, nourishing it daily with banana peels from my lunch) makes for better shelter building material than mistletoe does!
Ummm, wait, it wasn't eggplant-it was zucchini. Story still applies, though!

NineToFive:  I'm sure your professor was a muggle.

Enchiladas:  Well, he DID marry a student!

NineToFive:  That just makes him a perve .

Enchiladas:  She was elderly. They both were! It was at the COMMUNITY college!  And it's NOT like he married a different student every YEAR!

Enchiladas:  Hold on a minute, NineToFive,  are you insinuating now that MUGGLES are PERVES??? 


Calvin and Hobbes and Anthony and Me

OhEmmGee, Anthony! Here's yet ANOTHER example of how some of us loved you so much, right from the start, that we voluntarily took on full responsibility of your music and literature appreciation studies.
Thusly, we read Calvin and Hobbes and Gary Larson's the Far Side to you instead of Dr. Seuss (even though we love that, too-but you get plenty of that at home and school!). And we began to expose you to the timeless wonders of Bono and U2, REM, OMD, and even the Cure and the Violent Femmes, early enough to arm you with the ability to discover for yourownself that there exists in Art, in all its glorious forms, Inspiration, Calming, Healing, Learning,and JOY...to the WORLD, Anthony, to the WORLD! Including CHILDREN, of which you were one.
And that Full House and the Disney Channel were as unrealistic as the Cosby Show.
You're welcome.
Love always,
Your Third Word

*Shared Memory Session-Join us if you can*
Close your eyes (or whoever's eyes you're using at the moment-we aren't here to judge, at the moment, anyway) and summon forth that picture you have in your mind of Little Anthony (approximate age three to twelve),  sitting on that radioactively blue, EXTRA-shag, carpet in his room, engrossed in the tattered pages of Calvin and Hobbes and The Far Side. 
Feel THAT?  That's Love.  And true Joy.  And that other feeling? That's the Pride.  And that pride comes not from some grandiose belief that he wouldn't have found these treasures on his own, but that, because of Us, he found them In Time.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

American Civil War Version 2.0

It's waaaay PAST time for us "Normals" to stand up and speak out (by liking or sharing on Facebook, of course!).
American Civil War Version 2.0 is coming soon, and it ain't gonna be pretty, y'all.  It ain't gonna be pretty at all.
Background (for those Rip Van Winkles among you):
This isn't a new problem, but it is growing exponentially every year.  This conflict is dividing families around dinner tables (meaning: McDonald's and, in the case of this economy's "wealthy" families- the Olive Garden), our nation's very FUTURE, as they ride to and from school in giant government machines made of steel, yellow paint, hard seats, and (now) CONFLICT!  Employees who carpool to work are arriving with their clothes ripped to shreds and their hair all a mess (and it's not because they were doing what some of you are probably thinking they were doing!  Sheesh, America- read a book that isn't about sex for a change!  They STILL exist; you just have to look.).  Drivers are screaming at each other at the longer red lights, begging for a little common courtesy.  When that courtesy is not forthcoming, I've seen NUNS, on their way to teach at the private schools, put their kickstands down and reach right into open car windows and beat those rude AHs senseless with their wooden rulers.  Nuns, people!  Nuns!  THAT's what this country is coming to!  An X-Mas apocalypse like none ANY of you have ever imagined, and some of you have VERY active imaginations (Kudos on that, by the way!).
The origin of this "war" between Normals and the "Others" originates not with Religion, the Christmas holiday itself, nor even with its associated music.  Something just went terribly wrong along the way.  Somebody (henceforth I will be referring to this individual simply as SatanHisOwnSelf, with NO offense intended to anyone whose ACTUAL name happens to be SATANHISOWNSELF; I chose the name randomly, I swear) decided that the easiest way to get society to willingly take religion out of Christmas once and for all would be to drown the citizens via a system of flooding the airways for an ENTIRE MONTH (the month the holiday actually occurs in) with nothing but the music associated with said holiday.  Also, all advertisements would be required to feature the seasonal music. This would surely cause such mass nausea and complaints that the "problem" would solve itself!
But, uht-oh, December (and Christmas with it) came and went.  And, for the most part, the people seemed to LOVE it!
Then SatanHisOwnSelf, in his hideout made entirely of RedHots candies, said to his ownself, somewhat grinchily: Well, crap on a fat-free cracker!  Whut to do, whut to do... And he spent the next eleven months plotting and planning and watching the original How the Grinch Stole Christmas movie over and over for pointers.
So came the next November 1st, and SatanHisOwnSelf brushed his best tooth, put on his best suit and plenty of that Axe spray (because he saw those ads, just like all those teenage boys did, and thought to himself, just like all those teenage boys did: Hey, just because I'm 99.9% pure evil doesn't mean I can't get lucky every now and then, right?) He went to the Annual National Radio Station Format Planning Executives Convention (that's a thing, right?), and gave the Power Point Presentation that he'd worked so hard to prepare.  His execution was flawless, even more flawless than an air-brushed supermodel in the Sports Illustrated Swim Suit issue.  SatanHisOwnSelf received the first standing ovation he'd ever gotten without having to threaten an audience with eternal damnation or the gout.  No one noticed the three single tears that dripped from his burning red eyes, and evaporated immediately due to his natural heat.
That very day, those radio dons mandated that December 1st was no longer early enough; Christmas music should monopolize the airways the very day after Thanksgiving!  This would coincide with the traditional Black Friday Mayhem Sales!  Yes, only GOOD could come from this!  The citizens would be pacified into a sweet Christmasy coma, by force,thus inducing peace and goodwill behavior, and giving cops and crime reporters time to do their own shopping and time to attend their own parties!  Good times were coming, and EVERbody was gonna be happy.
Danged if another year didn't pass on by.  Black Friday started being called RED Friday because of all the blood being spilled during the madness ensuing as shoppers who paid retail for cigarettes and the highest quality cocaine on a daily basis trampled disabled newborn babies to get to the $20 DVRs. 
Appalled at the violence, SatanHisOwnSelf returned to speak again.  Maybe, just maybe, if the Christmas lullabies started the day after Hallowe'en, the pacification would be in its peak effectiveness in time to prevent the now-traditional blood-baths of Red and Black Friday.
As for SatanHisOwnSelf, he has given up entirely on America, and returned to his RedHots Fortress of Cinnamony Deliciousness, where he lives quite peacefully with the one woman in the world who can stand the smell of all that Axe!  They live, laugh, and love, and enjoy Christmas music for exactly ONE week per year, just as Nature intended.
Now that SatanHisOwnSelf has given up, it's up to us Normals to fight this.  Please join me in explaining to celebrities that NO ONE EXCEPT THEIR GRANNY wants to hear THEIR VERSION of ANY of the TRADITIONAL CHRISTMAS SONGS! 
ATTENTION RADIO STATIONS:  We'd rather have NO RADIO AT ALL (literally, even if we have to remove it manually with whatever tools we can find in our purses, glove boxes, and trunks) than hear the same twenty-two songs ALL DAY LONG!  It does NOT count as a DIFFERENT song, just because this time it's Justin Timberlake or Glance Bass!  There are truly some wonderful songs available that could break up the monotony and help lower the suicide rates at this time of year.  You cannot convince me that the music barrage is not partially responsible for that!
So, I'm calling on radio stations to PLEASE, for the love of GOD, stop driving these people to suicide!  Ball's in your court now, Radio.  Let's see how far you'll go to save Lifes.
The whole world is watching.  Your move, sir, your move.

Friday, November 9, 2012

Some of us are just naturally honest I guess

Son:  It was I.  I'm sorry, Father.  I cannot tell a lie.
God:   Don't you think I KNOW that already!  You put the tails back on all those puppies RIGHT NOW, and I don't mean 5 minutes from now!

Days of the Week: My Very First Big Girl Panties

I remember how excited I was when I received the gift of Days of the Week big girl panties at my very first birfday party. Of course, by then, I had been completely potty trained for quite some time. Since there were SEVEN of us chilren, we could afford only one birfday party per year. And they went alphabetically! I always had Bandaids on my fingers. It is unbelievably dangerous and time-consuming (not to mention embarrassing) to be doing up your own (COMPLETELY clean and dry- I shouldn't need to clarify this, but I don't want y'all getting the wrong idea) cloth diapers every time first grade goes for bathroom break. Eventually, I just learned to "hold it" until I got home. My urologist thinks that may be partially responsible for the severity of my kidney stone disorder.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Thirty Days of Thanksgiving 2012

I am grateful for:

1    The ability to walk
2    and the ability to talk, and the (admittedly limited) ability to hold my tongue.
3   And the ability to love
4    And the ability to share
5    and the ability to laugh and
6    the ability to sing, or at least the ability to LISTEN with a joyful heart.
7    For the gift of comfort when I need it most.
8    For the dear ones who live on in my most precious memories.
9    For those who stayed when the rest turned away.
10   For those who are willing to share the worst, and in so doing, make the worst better.
11   For glimpses past armor, and disguises adopted in defense, to the vulnerable brothers and sisters sharing this space, this world, because, no matter what else changes, we are STILL each other's keepers. 
12    For every time another saw my pain, and simply...cared.
13    For every time another thought of me, during a moment of prayer.
14    For each and every time I felt a silent thanks when words wouldn't come,
15    and for each and every time another sensed the same from me.
16     For happiness that lingers long after a visit.
17    For learning to face  and trust the woman in the mirror,
18    and for learning to love and forgive her, too.
19     For chocolate, dark and light, in all its glorious forms!
20     For smiles shined on you from a child you've never seen before.
21    For women the world over, great with child.
22    For long, soft kisses that keep us young.
23    For moments of wonder, gazing up at the sky.
24    For seeing ourselves in others, and loving them anyway.
25    For standing against evil, despite our own fears,
26   For being willing to listen when another just needs to be heard.
27    For every time children sleep withOUT tears dried on their cheeks.
28    For every moment my body isn't wracked with pain,
29    For every moment my heart isn't breaking,
30    and for every heartbeat, and every breath that I don't have to struggle to take.