Month: July 2001

Little Joke For Ya

“It’s just too hot to wear clothes today,” Jack said as he stepped out of the shower.  “Honey, what do you think the neighbors would think if I mowed the lawn like this?”

“Probably that I married you for your money,” she replied.

Stupid People
part 2 – Stupid People on the News

I don’t like weather men and women in this area.  In fact, all of the news people around here irk me.  It seems that they bitch about the weather every day.

Now, I am guilty of bitching about the heat, but these people have me beat, hands down.  They gripe all summer about the heat, the humidity, blah blah blah.  So then we have the first day that it stays at about 65F.  It’s not boiling hot, rather nice actually.  Are they happy?  Nooooooooooo.  They keep on bitching.  “Where did this cold air come from, Dave?  When can we expect to see some more warm weather?”  When winter rolls around, they change their tune to, “When can we expect to see some higher temperatures?” (Hey, aren’t you the same goober that was complaining about that warm weather the other day?  It’s called making up your mind … look into it.)

If the temperature was hovering around the 40F mark, they whine, “When is it going to heat up, Dave?”

If it was 80F, “When is it going to cool down, Dave?”

If it has been raining, “When is it going to clear up, Dave?”

If it stops raining, “When are we going to get some more rain, Dave?”

If it has been 60F, clear with a slight breeze blowing, “When are you going to stop sleeping with my wife, Dave?”

You’d think that they would just use that massive amount of hair spray to fix the cloud in the position they way that they want them.  These are people whose thrill of the week is getting to report which celebrity the Betty Ford Clinic is cleaning up this week.  And perhaps therein lies the problem …

I’m baaaaaaack …

Well, after a few days of listening to Kathie Lee and watching Barney, I am back!  I missed to all so much!  Thanks for all of the threats to the enapper – they must have worked!  You love me, I love you …

“I love you, you love me, we’re a happy Xanga family …”

What the hell was that?  Geez …  flashback, I guess.

I think my incessant nagging got to him.  That and all of the giggling.  Let me share a scene with you:

Me: (Giggle giggle giggle)
Enapper: What is so funny over there?
Me: Oh, I was just thinking about something that I want to post on Xanga.
Enapper: Well, hush all ready.
Me: Okay.

two minutes later …

Me: (Giggle giggle giggle)
Enapper: What is so funny over there this time?
Me: Oh, I was just thinking about something that I read on Nyree’s site.
Enapper: Okay … SHUT UP!
Me: Okay. (giggle, giggle.)
Enapper: FINE! Tell me what it was!
Me: Oh … ya had to be there.

After a few rounds of that, he was looking for my handcuffs key.

HI, GOOD XANGANS.  It is me.  I am being allowed to post one thing on here, but it can not divulge the name or identity of the kidnapper, err … woman-napper, errr … E-NAPPER.

I am having a WONDERFUL time in THIS PLACE with this HANDSOME brute that has dragged me off into PARADISE with THEM.  THE PERSON is not feeding me worth BEANS and I am craving some chocolate pretty DARN bad.

Kathie Lee is a GREAT singer and I am about to gauge out my eyeballs hearing her MELODIC voice over and over again.  Please, make the madness CONTINUE.

I hope to be back soon, but have been sworn to secrecy or else I will be GIVEN A VACATION.  I love you all, smooches and hugs.  Especially to THE E-NAPPER.

*sniffle*

P.S. THE E-NAPPER IS A GREAT PERSON WITH A WONDERFUL PERSONALITY AND NO BODY ODOR PROBLEMS, DESPITE THE FACT THAT I TELL HIM SO.

ALL of your swirLY aRE BeLOng to us. PLeaSE Leave yOUR pLeAS FOr hER ReTURN IN tHe cOMMeNTs seCTiON beLoW.

(inSERt eVIL LaugH HeRe. i did.)

Quick Update

Gray and I are almost done moving.  This has been a HUGE ordeal, but it is almost over.  The new apartment is FABOO and I am really close to school.  I do not have my phone/internet connected yet.

I’ll be back soon … I have 123 emails waiting …

Stupid People
part 1 – Bertha Butt and the Rose Bushes

We live across the alley from a huge church with a daycare.  The are times when the kids wave at me as I am leaving in the car, their little hands waving and big smiles on all of their little faces.  Other than those few occasions, this arrangement is a huge pain in the ass.

People, who drop off and pick up their kids for the daycare, park in the middle of the alley or pull over to the side of our yard to park, thus trampling our rose bushes and smashing the grass.  This happens on Sundays during service, too, but the day care parents are by far worse.

Yesterday as the the end of a long day of packing and moving neared, Gray and I pulled in to the alley beside our house.  He was driving his dad’s truck, and as we rounder the corner into the alley, there it sat.  Here was a guy, sitting there, car parked smack dab in the middle (directly, for those of you who are not Southern) of said alley.

I saw Gray’s face start to turn a salmony-pink.  He honked the horn.  The driver’s head popped up, glancing in the rearview mirror.  The car cranked, the tail lights lit up, he started pulling forward and to the right.  Yup.  Right on the rose bushes.

Gray, whose face was going from blushing-bride to winded-pitcher, rolled his window was down so he yelled, “Hey, don’t park on my rose bushes!”  At this point, the car was turned off and the head had popped back down.  Enter stage right, his wife, Bertha Big Butt, and two sons.  They looked to be most likely 5 and 9 years old and were being dragged across the street to the car.

Bertha looked into Gray’s window and said rather sternly, “He’s not on your rose bushes and he won’t do it again.”  She trudged off, a kids hand in each of hers.   When Mrs. Butt crossed in front of the truck she said loud enough for us to hear but not facing the truck, “Asshole.”

All hell broke loose and Gray’s complexion turned from blushing sailor to lobster red.  He yelled out his window, “Oh that’s a great thing for you say in front of your kids while you’re standing beside a church!  Look!  You’re walking all over my rose bushes!”

Bertha looked back up at the truck and said, “No were are not!”  At this point she was getting the oldest boy into the car and pulling a thorn out of her calf.

“Yeah you are, ya stupid bitch!  You’re all over them!”

“No we’re not!” she bellowed again, kicking one of them in the process.

The youngest boy stopped on his way into the back seat, looked up at Bertha and said, “That man called you a stupid bitch, Mommy.”

She sniffed as if she was deeply hurt and said all pathetic-like, “I know he did baby,” no doubt for Mr. Butt’s benefit.  They all got in and drove off.  As they did, the youngest Butt boy turned around in his seat and looked at us with huge puppy dog eyes.

Gray was pissed off for about an hour over that.  He kept replaying it verbally.  Finally I calmed him down.  “You saw the kid as they were leaving, right?” I asked.

“Yeah.  I saw him staring at me all pitiful like that.”

“Well, sweetie,” I said “that is something that will probably stay with him for a while.  One of these days, he’ll be driving down our street and will recall that whole interaction.”

“Maybe.”

“And you know what he’ll say when he does?” I continued. “That guy was right.  She was a stupid bitch.”

Art of the Day
A week of van Gogh self-portraits

Vincent van Gogh (1853 – 1890)
Self-Portrait, 1889
Oil on canvas
Paris: Musée d’Orsay

Paintings have a life of their own that derives from the painter’s soul. — Vincent Van Gogh

This painting is one of the most famous self-portraits of all time.  I’ve always guessed that the swirls in the background say volumes about van Gogh’s mental state at the time.  After doing a bit of research, I found that this was one of the St. Remy paintings, composed while he was in the asylum.  Explains the critical eye cast upon himself, no?

While van Gogh’s self-portraits say a lot about him and his perception of himself, so do his portraits of other people.  This painting is a good example.  It is of Dr. Gachet, van Gogh’s physician during his last years.  One of the last paintings by van Gogh, it was started and completed the month before his death.

There has always been a question of how competent Gachet was. Of Gachet, van Gogh wrote in a letter to his brother, Theo, that “First of all, he is sicker than I am, I think, or shall we say just as much”.  Perhaps that explains the sad look on his face.  He is watching one of his patients deteriate right before his own eyes and there is either little that he can do or perhaps he blames himself.

This portrait is also one of van Gogh’s most well known since it holds the record for being the most expensive painting ever sold at auction. In 1990, Doctor Gachet was sold within three minutes for $82.5 million to Ryoei Saito, Japan’s second-largest paper manufacturer.

Portrait of Doctor Gachet
June, 1890; Oil on canvas

Click on images for a larger view.

Friday’s Child