A Trip to the Airport

A Mad Lib for Haley, who is traveling by air today!

I have never seen a place that looked more like a theme park that wasn’t.  We went to the airport yesterday, and there were more slugs and parking lots than I could count.  Each lot was chock full of helicopters and trains, and those little oil tanker things Europeans drive.  We parked (it only cost 74,000 dollars per hour) and went in. The hustle and bustle was scaly, people — toddlers, men, women, you name it — hurrying everywhere, cuff links in tow.

Along the edges were gift shops and horseshoe shops, vendors selling toothbrushes to babies, ticket booths, desperation officials, and arrogance guards. On the loudspeaker, some grandmother was announcing when the dishtowels were arriving and departing.

We put our waffles on the big conveyor kite, then went to grope our gate and bathe, where they would be poking people, one at a time, until we all plummeted.

The most audacious part was when the plane started spitting down the runaway. The engines revved up and emitted a thud sound, then curdled down the runaway at the conniving speed of 13 miles per hour! Once we were in the air, I felt more mushy, though, and let me tell you, the clouds look so much more wet from the air.

The Ball Game

Another Mad Lib, because I simply adore them.

Yesterday, I went to a wigball game in the Himalayas. The tickets cost 100 dollars each, and it was worth it, because it was the stickiest wigball game I’ve ever seen. We took our seats, and when the refreshment baby came by, we ordered Brussels sprouts and pork fried rice to munch on. The players came out onto the cliff, and the audience waddled and fell at their arrival. Right in the beginning, 13 months into the game, Bob “The Bottle Cap” Charles broke his eyelash and had to be carted off the cliff. I felt nervous about it, but the game had to go on. Shortly afterward, DarleenScaly Toenail” Johnson scored, and a snort went up from the fans.

The half time act consisted of a team of bee keepers pinching mattress pads in a circle. In the second half, a foul wigball flew over my nostril and popped the dude sitting behind me. “Yeehah!” the dude shouted accidentally, and I covered my uncle‘s ears, lest the obscenity offend. Other than that, we had an embarrassing time.

I Love Mad Libs

I have always loved Mad Libs.  The other day in the school bookstore I found a deck of Mad Lib cards.  Yes!  Who knew that Mad Libs could also be a card game?  Of course, since I don’t have anyone around here who wants to play card games, I figure I could use the cards to play the little books games all by myself.  I created a fabulous political speech!

Ladies and gentlemen, on this pierced occasion, it is a privilege to address such a massive-looking group of prom gowns.  I can tell from your smiling fingernails that you will support my pickled program in the coming election.  I promise that, if elected, there will be a poodle in every baseball and two belly buttons in every garage.  I want to warn you against my invisible opponent, Mr. George.  This man is nothing but a heartsick cell phone.  He has a tattooed character and is working pacifier in glove with the criminal element.  If elected, I promise to eliminate vice.  I will keep the grandmothers in the public till.  I promise you mysterious government, lovesick taxes, and shocking schools.

Now imagine all the politicians babbling nonsense like this as you go about your lives this election season.  It makes about as much sense as anything else they’re saying… and is a heck of a lot funnier.

This has been my good deed for the week.


Just a quick thought here…

Why do so many people call me on my home phone in the middle of the day and refuse to leave a message?  Do they think I’m going to psychically know who they are and why they called?

Ok, so it’s true that I don’t bother calling most people back anyway, but still…  I had 17 missed calls the other day and one voicemail message.

And do they even listen to my message?  It’s very clever, I tell you!

Hello!  You have reached the home phone number of Kelly and Mike.  We are not answering the phone because it is far away, and we are not going to hurt ourselves or kill ourselves running to answer it before it stops ringing.  Sorry.  We value our limbs.  So leave a message and we will… get the message.  Alright!  Thank you!  Bye-bye!

See?  Clever!  (By the way, in case anyone was wondering, it was my doctor who left the message and he said he valued my limbs, too.  And that the results from last week’s bone density scan were all normal.  Woo hoo.)

Leave a message after the beep.

Having Lasik Surgery in a Funeral Home

I do love spam! This one tickled my funny bone. The subject is RE: Schedule your Lasik evaluation today. I’m sure I’m not the only one who gets at least a dozen of these a week. The thing that struck me as funny is that it came from someone at Funeral Home Life dot com. The domain exists, but I get a 404 Page Not Found error when I go check it out.  Bummer.

It makes me wonder about the relationship between Lasik surgery and living in a funeral home.

OMG!! The 100+ year old Victorian I live in used to be a funeral home! Maybe this spam email is a message from the Mothership that I ought to be seriously considering Lasik surgery!

On a serious note, have any of you had Lasik surgery? If so, would you recommend for or against it?

Another Traffic Rant

To the dumbass who turned left in front of me, causing me to nearly hit your frackin’ SUV:

Having previously worked for the New York State Automobile Dealers Association, and having seen the New York State Vehicle & Traffic Law a time or two, I can tell you that article 26, section 1141 of said VTL states:

The driver of a vehicle intending to turn to the left within an intersection or into an alley, private road, or driveway shall yield the right of way to any vehicle approaching from the opposite direction which is within the intersection or so close as to constitute an immediate hazard.

I almost — almost — wish I had hit you so you could have gotten yourself a nice ticket and superior grief from your insurance company. One of these days, I am going to hit you. And then I’m going to have your insurance company buy me a new car. Ha! Fair warning, dumbass!

Sean Connery

I have a friend who has been telling me for at least a year that I need a Tom Tom. It’s a geek thing. I don’t really need a Tom Tom, because one of the important lessons I learned from my dad was how to read a map. Give me a map, and I can get anywhere! And even when Google Maps and Mapquest lie to me (something they seem to be doing more frequently lately), 99 out of a 100 times, I’ll still be able to find what I’m looking for.

But that’s not the way geeks do things, you see. We need our gadgets. For last month’s trip down to New York City, another friend brought along her Tom Tom (which I christened ‘Chatty Cathy’ for its bad habit of interrupting conversations). I kind of enjoyed knowing that the next exit was on the left and exactly how far the next turn was. So I was more inclined to consider buying one.

And then I visited the Tom Tom website and checked out the voices that could be downloaded into the Tom Tom. I discovered ‘Andy’, who sounds suspiciously like Sean Connery.

My new Tom Tom arrived last night. Sean and I are going to the grocery store now.  He’s a bit of a smartass, and I think we’re going to get along just fine.


I am a female person who lives with a male person.  As you might imagine, once or twice we’ve had the conversation about toilet seats.  I’m pretty fair… I think we should both put the seat down.  I’ve gotten more insane about this lately as one of the cats has taken to playing with the water in the bowl.  Oh, he’s not drinking it… he’s just trying to catch it and bat it around.

I do not need this to be happening in my house!  I do not need to see little wet paw prints on the bathroom floor.  OMG!  That is just the last straw!

So I bought a toilet seat that automatically closes when you flush.  It arrived yesterday.  I will install it today.  The male human of the house will no longer have to even try to remember to put the seat down… and the male feline of the house will lose a toy.

I’m not posting a link to the toilet seat because… well, I don’t want to look like one of those pay-for-post bloggers, but you can Google it if you want.  It’s called the Harmonyâ„¢ automatic slow closing toilet seat.

(For the record, I don’t think the pay-for-post concept is inherently evil… I just don’t like seeing essentially the same post on a dozen or more blogs over the course of a few days.  Boring.)

My Tarot Card

You are The Empress

Beauty, happiness, pleasure, success, luxury, dissipation.

The Empress is associated with Venus, the feminine planet, so it represents
beauty, charm, pleasure, luxury, and delight. You may be good at home
decorating, art or anything to do with making things beautiful.

The Empress is a creator, be it creation of life, of romance, of art or business. While the Magician is the primal spark, the idea made real, and the High Priestess is the one who gives the idea a form, the Empress is the womb where it gestates and grows till it is ready to be born. This is why her symbol is Venus, goddess of beautiful things as well as love. Even so, the Empress is more Demeter, goddess of abundance, than sensual Venus. She is the giver of Earthly gifts, yet at the same time, she can in anger withhold, as Demeter did when her daughter, Persephone, was kidnapped. In fury and grief, she kept the Earth barren till her child was returned to her.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

(I own many tarot decks, and the Cat People deck is one of my favorites.)

Dear Dr. Kwesi

Dear Dr. Kwesi,

You have my condolences regarding your son’s illness. I know how heavily a child’s lack of health can weigh on a parent’s mind.

That being said, however, I must confess to a great deal of confusion regarding a great many things in your correspondence. First, your email makes little sense overall. Generally, these sorts of scams make it clear that you’re looking for some sort of gullible person to do something for you. As a reference for crafting future emails, you might take a look at the email I received from David Kuku. His was quite good.

Second, simply stating that your email is not a scam or junk mail does not change its nature. Repeating a thing, no matter now sincerely or forcefully, does not make it true. You’ll want to speak to the American president George W. Bush about that. Ask him about weapons of mass destruction.

Lastly, this “good friend” of yours who gave you my contact information is clearly a fraud, as I know no one in the Ghana Chamber of Commerce.

My advice to you, Dr. Kwesi, is to change careers immediately. It seems that the field of accounting is beyond your ken. Only a few, very special people are not driven to madness by the powers inherent in Numbers Coupled With Currency Indicators. For the sake of your family, get out now.

A Concerned Fellow Human