Right Wing Duck came closest to winning my contest.
I stressed to my vast audience of readers that no one actually WON but here comes Ducky, waving his feathers around screaming "I win! I win!" so I will say something nice about him.
Right Wing Duck READS my blog. Not only does he read it, he comprehends it, he remembers it.
He said reading my blog makes him feel like a friend of the family.
Ducky writes funny stuff on not only HIS blog (I'd prefer he update a bit more and not use such big words so I can understand) but on IMAO and he is blog-famous over there.
I'm extremely lucky that he even FOUND my blog much less reads it regularly.
I'm not worthy of his attention.
ALL HAIL DUCKY!
Monday, February 27, 2006
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Happy Mardi Gras
One of the local radio stations was broadcasting live from The Strand (one of my favorite places) in Galveston for the big Mardi Gras festivities.
I could have sworn I heard Outlaw Dave say this was the 8th year for Mardi Gras Galveston.
Well, that can't be!
As much as I would love to think it's only been 8 years since I was in high school, I know that's not true. I know it's been more than 8 years for Mardi Gras Galveston because I WENT to Mardi Gras in high school and that was *cough -more than 15- cough* years ago.
Even after high school, I found my way to The Strand for Mardi Gras.
I've endured being slammed in the head by a guy's huge arm while he was jumping for doubloons then being asked out by said guy when I called him a "fucking asshole" (I guess he's into that!).
I've seen people I went to high school with showing their tits for cheap plastic beads.
If I'm going to show my tits to a crowd of drunk guys, I want more than plastic beads. I want diamonds or cash.
One year, with a former friend, we noticed two drunk guys holding each other up walking down the sidewalk. When I pointed and laughed, my friend screamed, "Oh my God! Those are my uncles!!!"
We picked them up and gave them a ride back to the mainland but not before one of them projectile vomited in my car, hitting me in the back of the head and showering his brother.
We stopped on the old causeway road to clean up which included the guys removing their soaked shirts and throwing them in the bushes.
We drove the rest of the way home with the windows down.
I left Mardi Gras that year with a moon pie, a few beads and two drunk, shirtless Mexicans in the back of my car.
Good times...
Friday, February 24, 2006
A Contest...
of sorts...
I have made a pretty good effort not to talk about work too much on my blog. At least not anything specific.
However, I don't mind telling you what I do but I thought it would be more fun if you guessed it.
Now, there are a few of you that know already (Johnny, Johnny and maybe Sheila) and I KNOW you know so don't EVEN try it!
Anyway...if you can figure out what I do for a living, I'll write something nice (or honest) about you on my little blog.
I was going to offer to send you something but I ain't got nuthin! All I can give you are my words.
So, kiddies...What Does De Do?
Updated stuff below:
Ok...I've gotten some funny answers:
RightWingDuck says:
Provider of Neighborly Internet service?
Supermarket Aisle Critic?
Merlot PR rep?
FCC Censor: Don't say TW@T!
Reviewer of books?
Now that I think about it - Hmmm. Nope, no clue. I remember reading a post where I thought - "Oh, I know somebody who does that." I'll have to search my memory banks - or your archive.
Maybe I have mentioned. Not sure.
It's clear you read my blog and for that, I adore you.
Jimmah says:
By day, DeAnna, a mild mannered copy editor. By night, DeLite, superspy of the
NSA specializing in geriatric seduction.
I could be stretching on the copy editor part. A more realistic guess would be
Hand Model.
Although, I am boring enough and a know-it-all enough to be a copy editor...no.
A hand model...I was the world's best hand model once...
That is until I was pushed into a ironing board and as a reflex, grabbed the hot iron with both hands, there ending my hand modeling career.
/Seinfeld
shank says:
when I was a kid, I stocked groceries at the local Winn-Dixie. There were two
shifts of stockers, evening and night. I worked evening because I was still a
wee git; and that shift ended at about 10 or 11pm each night. At which point,
of course, the night shift came on. The night shift stockers worked 11p - 7a,
and they were some strange folks. Most of the time they didn't speak to anyone
else. They all had these faint dark spots under there eyes, a couple had some
odd looking tattoos, and one of the ladies had a pair of those gigantic
low-slung sunglasses from like, the 1970's.
But yeah, I think that's what you do. You're a night shift stocker at the local
grocery store.
Not EVEN sure how to take that, shank!
My tattoos are not odd and didn't you know the 70's were back?
My first job was at a grocery store. There were two cool places to work back then; Shipley's donuts and this particular grocery store.
I think it was cool to work at the grocery store because it was widely rumored that the manager was dealing drugs and cheating on his wife constantly.
How could a place run by a guy like that NOT be cool?
Oh...it wasn't.
I have made a pretty good effort not to talk about work too much on my blog. At least not anything specific.
However, I don't mind telling you what I do but I thought it would be more fun if you guessed it.
Now, there are a few of you that know already (Johnny, Johnny and maybe Sheila) and I KNOW you know so don't EVEN try it!
Anyway...if you can figure out what I do for a living, I'll write something nice (or honest) about you on my little blog.
I was going to offer to send you something but I ain't got nuthin! All I can give you are my words.
So, kiddies...What Does De Do?
Updated stuff below:
Ok...I've gotten some funny answers:
RightWingDuck says:
Provider of Neighborly Internet service?
Supermarket Aisle Critic?
Merlot PR rep?
FCC Censor: Don't say TW@T!
Reviewer of books?
Now that I think about it - Hmmm. Nope, no clue. I remember reading a post where I thought - "Oh, I know somebody who does that." I'll have to search my memory banks - or your archive.
Maybe I have mentioned. Not sure.
It's clear you read my blog and for that, I adore you.
Jimmah says:
By day, DeAnna, a mild mannered copy editor. By night, DeLite, superspy of the
NSA specializing in geriatric seduction.
I could be stretching on the copy editor part. A more realistic guess would be
Hand Model.
Although, I am boring enough and a know-it-all enough to be a copy editor...no.
A hand model...I was the world's best hand model once...
That is until I was pushed into a ironing board and as a reflex, grabbed the hot iron with both hands, there ending my hand modeling career.
/Seinfeld
shank says:
when I was a kid, I stocked groceries at the local Winn-Dixie. There were two
shifts of stockers, evening and night. I worked evening because I was still a
wee git; and that shift ended at about 10 or 11pm each night. At which point,
of course, the night shift came on. The night shift stockers worked 11p - 7a,
and they were some strange folks. Most of the time they didn't speak to anyone
else. They all had these faint dark spots under there eyes, a couple had some
odd looking tattoos, and one of the ladies had a pair of those gigantic
low-slung sunglasses from like, the 1970's.
But yeah, I think that's what you do. You're a night shift stocker at the local
grocery store.
Not EVEN sure how to take that, shank!
My tattoos are not odd and didn't you know the 70's were back?
My first job was at a grocery store. There were two cool places to work back then; Shipley's donuts and this particular grocery store.
I think it was cool to work at the grocery store because it was widely rumored that the manager was dealing drugs and cheating on his wife constantly.
How could a place run by a guy like that NOT be cool?
Oh...it wasn't.
And The Winner Is....
No one, bitches!
I posed the question "What does De do?" (Or as tinyman says "What do De do?") but no one got it right.
Some got close....pretty damn close.
Right Wing Duck said IT/Computers. He was the closest although shank was ever-so cute with his vampire/grocery stocker guess.
Anyway...without further ado - what do De do?
Do you remember going to the library as a kid?
Do you remember those old wrinkled librarians with their steel grey hair in a bun, their half glasses precariously perched on the edge of their noses and their pastel colored sweaters buttoned at the throat? Remember the "shushing"?
That's me!
Except I have long, flowing locks of brown hair, no glasses but lots of eye make-up, several tattoos and I wear jeans with fabulous shoes. I don't "shush" but I will tell a kid to shut the fuck up after I slap him around a little bit.
I am a Computer Information/Reference Librarian.
I'm the New Millennium Librarian, bitches!
I posed the question "What does De do?" (Or as tinyman says "What do De do?") but no one got it right.
Some got close....pretty damn close.
Right Wing Duck said IT/Computers. He was the closest although shank was ever-so cute with his vampire/grocery stocker guess.
Anyway...without further ado - what do De do?
Do you remember going to the library as a kid?
Do you remember those old wrinkled librarians with their steel grey hair in a bun, their half glasses precariously perched on the edge of their noses and their pastel colored sweaters buttoned at the throat? Remember the "shushing"?
That's me!
Except I have long, flowing locks of brown hair, no glasses but lots of eye make-up, several tattoos and I wear jeans with fabulous shoes. I don't "shush" but I will tell a kid to shut the fuck up after I slap him around a little bit.
I am a Computer Information/Reference Librarian.
I'm the New Millennium Librarian, bitches!
Thursday, February 23, 2006
An Ordinary Life
I had lunch with a friend today.
He was telling me a story - about Valentine's Day, I think.
In telling the story, he chronicled his entire day including what time he got up, what he did when he got up, what he fixed for breakfast...everything.
After he finished with the evening portion of the story, he said, "I don't know why I had to tell you all of that just to get to the point of my story."
I think I know why he did.
I've felt the need to tell somebody what an ordinary day in my life is like.
I think it's a need to feel like you're a part of society. Your life becomes mundane to you but if you tell someone, it makes it more real, more connected to humanity.
I've done that on my blog before: A Day In the Life.
There is something about sharing the ordinary parts of your life that makes it not quite so...well...ordinary.
Maybe that's why a lot of us started blogging. We wanted to be more than just commuters on the highway, office drones or nameless people in the checkout line.
With a blog, we become people with something to say and we can find an audience to read about our ordinary lives.
It's a little depressing to think when I die, it's all over.
Most people have children to carry on their legacy of some sort.
I'm not having kids and at this rate I'll probably never get married so will anyone remember me when I die?
What will I leave in this life to let the people that come behind me know I existed?
What is YOUR legacy?
He was telling me a story - about Valentine's Day, I think.
In telling the story, he chronicled his entire day including what time he got up, what he did when he got up, what he fixed for breakfast...everything.
After he finished with the evening portion of the story, he said, "I don't know why I had to tell you all of that just to get to the point of my story."
I think I know why he did.
I've felt the need to tell somebody what an ordinary day in my life is like.
I think it's a need to feel like you're a part of society. Your life becomes mundane to you but if you tell someone, it makes it more real, more connected to humanity.
I've done that on my blog before: A Day In the Life.
There is something about sharing the ordinary parts of your life that makes it not quite so...well...ordinary.
Maybe that's why a lot of us started blogging. We wanted to be more than just commuters on the highway, office drones or nameless people in the checkout line.
With a blog, we become people with something to say and we can find an audience to read about our ordinary lives.
It's a little depressing to think when I die, it's all over.
Most people have children to carry on their legacy of some sort.
I'm not having kids and at this rate I'll probably never get married so will anyone remember me when I die?
What will I leave in this life to let the people that come behind me know I existed?
What is YOUR legacy?
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
You Know Why They Call It Brokeback, Don't You?
My sister started highlighting her hair years ago.
Some people thought it was to cover grey. Some thought it was to look younger.
I am convinced it was to reveal her true blonde self.
The other night we were all sitting around her living room chatting about this and that. "We" included my young nephew, sister, brother in law and mother.
My brother in law brought up the hoopla surrounding Brokeback Mountain and how some guy at work photoshopped two other coworkers faces on the movie's promotional poster.
We laughed knowing it's being done all over the internet.
We then discussed the issues surrounding the movie; how some people might not be ready for it, how some people are completely against it and how my sister and I really want to go see it.
Then my sister chimes in with this gem:
"Not to mention the name of the movie! I mean couldn't they think of a better name than Brokeback?"
We all answered with vague "mmhmm's".
Apparently, she thought we weren't getting it.
"You know, Brokeback, like he broke his back having anal sex?"
She was met with screams of
"Ok! GOD!!"
"Jesus Christ, WE GET IT!"
and the worst..from my 16 yr old nephew: "Oh my God, Mom! You are NOT allowed to talk anymore!"
Parents on a good day are extremely embarrassing to a teenager. Parents who utter the words "anal sex" will cause you to simply disappear from the humiliation.
Some people thought it was to cover grey. Some thought it was to look younger.
I am convinced it was to reveal her true blonde self.
The other night we were all sitting around her living room chatting about this and that. "We" included my young nephew, sister, brother in law and mother.
My brother in law brought up the hoopla surrounding Brokeback Mountain and how some guy at work photoshopped two other coworkers faces on the movie's promotional poster.
We laughed knowing it's being done all over the internet.
We then discussed the issues surrounding the movie; how some people might not be ready for it, how some people are completely against it and how my sister and I really want to go see it.
Then my sister chimes in with this gem:
"Not to mention the name of the movie! I mean couldn't they think of a better name than Brokeback?"
We all answered with vague "mmhmm's".
Apparently, she thought we weren't getting it.
"You know, Brokeback, like he broke his back having anal sex?"
She was met with screams of
"Ok! GOD!!"
"Jesus Christ, WE GET IT!"
and the worst..from my 16 yr old nephew: "Oh my God, Mom! You are NOT allowed to talk anymore!"
Parents on a good day are extremely embarrassing to a teenager. Parents who utter the words "anal sex" will cause you to simply disappear from the humiliation.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
East of Oblivion
Sometimes the greatest material can be found in instant messaging.
Me: there is a man that comes in here...he's old but handsome
Me: I would do him
The Friend: would you now
The Friend: what does he look like?
Me: old
The Friend: so, you'd do guys hunched over walkers, huh?
The Friend: that's pretty kinky, I guess
Me: you're gross and ghey
The Friend: YOU brought this all up in the first place, toots!
Me: yeah well I wasn't talking about walkers and shit
The Friend: but you didn't play along when I asked what he looked like....
The Friend: "old" isn't very descriptive, especially for a wordsmith
Me: He's ruggedly handsome with salt and pepper hair brushing his forehead. He dresses with wild abandon, unconcerned about current fashions and trends. He walks with a swagger, hinting at years of wisdom and adventure. He smiles, knowingly, as if to say "I could have you. I've had many like you before."
Me: how's that...ass
The Friend: LMAO!
The Friend: yeah! That was great!
The Friend: are you sure you don't write for either Harlequin or one of the soaps?
Me: nah...I'm too good. I prefer to waste my talent here in Obscurity. You remember Obscurity? It's just north of Suicide and to the east of Oblivion
Me: there is a man that comes in here...he's old but handsome
Me: I would do him
The Friend: would you now
The Friend: what does he look like?
Me: old
The Friend: so, you'd do guys hunched over walkers, huh?
The Friend: that's pretty kinky, I guess
Me: you're gross and ghey
The Friend: YOU brought this all up in the first place, toots!
Me: yeah well I wasn't talking about walkers and shit
The Friend: but you didn't play along when I asked what he looked like....
The Friend: "old" isn't very descriptive, especially for a wordsmith
Me: He's ruggedly handsome with salt and pepper hair brushing his forehead. He dresses with wild abandon, unconcerned about current fashions and trends. He walks with a swagger, hinting at years of wisdom and adventure. He smiles, knowingly, as if to say "I could have you. I've had many like you before."
Me: how's that...ass
The Friend: LMAO!
The Friend: yeah! That was great!
The Friend: are you sure you don't write for either Harlequin or one of the soaps?
Me: nah...I'm too good. I prefer to waste my talent here in Obscurity. You remember Obscurity? It's just north of Suicide and to the east of Oblivion
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