Obsession thy name is Edward!!!

Oh and let’s not forget Jake…like we ever could!

I don’t remember the last time that I was so taken in and all consumed by a series of books or characters. Unless you count that brief period of mourning when they killed off Catherine on the Beauty and the Beast T.V. series. And… if you can call six months brief.

Forbidden duel world love affair … secret underground city beneath the streets of New York.

Does sci-fi get any better?

I still can’t believe they off’d her. It was a very black time for me.

But low and behold…and looky here, sci-fi has done restored my faith once more!

And obsessed does not even begin to cover this one!

Not surprisingly, I have yet to meet anyone who has read these books that was like ‘uh yeah, they’re o.k.’ or ‘those books sucked yo’

These books breed addiction! Pure cult-like attraction for these out-of-this-world and every-world characters that will not be denied!

We’re not hurting anyone. There are no mass suicides. Nobody’s shaving any heads.

But in case you haven’t noticed, most boys don’t get it.

My husband by proxy will now reluctantly stand in for all the boys on this point:

“The Underworld now that was a movie” insert big cheesy chest puff here. “These vampires are nothing but a bunch of sappy ass wannabes. All’s I know is that if I don’t see someone’s head being chopped off in the first five minutes, the movie has to suck” now add loud snort to retarded chest puff “And what’s that vamp doing out during the day anyway?”

“There’s no direct sunlight or else he would sparkle” God, doesn’t he know anything?

“Well do they fly at least?”

“Kind of and Edward reads minds…except for Bella’s of course. And Alice sees the future and…”

“How weak! What do you guys get out of all this? What’s the big deal? It’s just a dumb movie!”

“Oh really? Exactly what time are the Yankees coming over to deliver your portion of their proceeds you screaming fan freak?”

Don’t worry guys; there was no bloodshed… this time. Although that would have blended in nicely with our theme don’t ya think? But I, like Edward, have restraint.

I have never been ready to love a movie more! And I am dying to see it!

Dying, Dying, Dying I say!

How about you bloggy sisters? Spill the blood! Let me hear it!

Before the movie. After the movie. Anytime! That’s what good obsession is for!!!

And for those not yet-bitten bloggy sisters…can I possibly sway you over to the obsessive side? Please!!! Please!!!!

Holy Kidnapping!

THANKSGIVING: Now listen up you Santa ball licker. If you want to make it to see the New Year you better pay close attention.

CHRISTMAS: Gulp

THANKSGIVING: First rule- get the sleigh bells out of your mouth mincemeat. Nobody can unders

tand a word you’re saying through those lying rotten gingerbread teeth. Either you’re about the holiday or you’re about the cash. Now which one is it?

CHRISTMAS: Uh…well….both?

THANKSGIVING: Not good enough snowscrape! I’ve been trashed by the whole "ooooohhh don’t trample over and kill me at Walmart" Black Friday crap for way too long. I’m not taking the rap for this one. Now I want some answers!

CHRISTMAS: Well..um..Maybe if you…have you thought about coming out on a… uhhh…a Monda…

THANKSGIVING: Shut the hell up Elfballs I didn’t say you could speak!

Menorah-Man over here is just waiting for a chance to kick your fat red ass. Don’t make me get him all lit up!

CHRISTMAS: But I thought you aske…

THANKSGIVING:

Enough talking chinrolls!…I am tired of being overlooked by your holier-than-thou–Jingle Jolly crap. You and your rancid HO’s

better start shaping up or we’re gonna….

CHRISTMAS: Now wait just a merry second. Are you calling Mrs. C. a HO...?

THANKSGIVING: Shut your sugarplum pie hole you overdone fairy and go find yourself another way to suck the blood out of these lamb chops. Leave the real eats to the big dogs! And while you’re at it, get your tardload off my Friday coattails and start doing what you are supposed to do. Wait your damned turn you anxious bitch!

It’s not my fault your biggest day comes after Christmas. That’s what you get for starting in July! Shove all your damned returns! I’m tired of getting stuffed with all the bad press. Now go tell your leader to meet my demands and nobody’ll get hurt.

CHRISTMAS: Sssss sssuuuuree thhh thhhiiing Mr. T – whatever you want…

THANKSGIVING: That's better! About time a turkey gets a little respect around here.

Now you tell him I want…No you DEMAND that I….Make sure he better.....

Tell him I want the new SpongeBob Snuggie. I’m tired of freezing my ass off in that damn fagot parade.

Oh and tell him to lay off the Jenny Craig. He’s starting to lose his appeal.

The Blogging Kingdom

Deep in the heart of the Blogging jungle, the female blogger sniffs the air for post sustenance. Sensing imminent danger, the male target backs off soundlessly into a corner keeping an unwavering eye on his foe.

The female blogger licks her claws in anticipation and waits patiently for the precise moment to attack.

At the first sign of the male’s weakness, she springs up at full speed, striking her prey in mid sentence….

“I want you to stop blogging about me” he grumbled.

“But Honey, you’re the star!” I embellished “and everybloggy loves you”

“It’s not normal. Nobody else’s husband has to watch every syllable that comes out of his mouth. What’s next? Details on our sex life?”

We have a sex life?

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. You wanted to have sex right?”

Purrrrr..Clack….Clack…. Purrrrr….Clack.

“Stop that typing, you’re driving me crazy!”

“Oh sorry sweetie. Bad can’t stop me if you tried habit. I’m listening now”

Look into his eyes. Forget about the computer. Look into his eyes. Forget about the computer. Look into his eyes. Forget about the computer.

“What the hell are you doing now?”

EEK! Oops…. “Um, nothing. I’m listening. I’m listening”

Pay attention. Pay attention. Pay attention.

“You can’t keep journaling everything we talk about” Oh can’t I? “Something’s not right here. Can't you see it?”

What? Is there a typo?? OMG! Where?!! Where?!!

“I’m going out for a while”

“Hmm? Okay…Hope you find the file”

…The female blogger is satiated once more. Giving her creative limbs a stretch; she listens to the deep male growl that can be heard throughout the blogging jungle.

Hey! How'd this guy get in here?

Move Over Poker!

Contrary to what I might have led you guys to believe, my husband and I have a simply fabulous relationship. Fifty-fifty workload, healthy communication, love and affection, mutual admiration and respec….

Okay he’s gone.

Now what was I saying?

Oh yeah….Jack of Asses….

In this new marriage card game, a husband places down a card of blame for each incident that goes wrong in your life. Each card holds the power to hurl insults and blistering fire sticks (similar to Pokémon only bloodier).

The object of the game is to get the wife to screech and wail until she appears to be a raving lunatic so that social services come to your home to investigate.

In this game, the blame card is always wild.

It can be played for money issues, economic woes, sagging asses and body odor.

If the husband religiously follows the rules of the game, as most do, chances are he will be victorious in placing the wife in a straight jacket for all time and be free to tour the country on the Jack of Asses Circuit.

This game can be played over and over and over and over …..And be suffered enjoyed for years to come.

Disclaimer: If you find yourself losing your sanity too early in the game, chances are you have already lost the round to a real pro and might as well give up.

In these extreme cases, shut your mouth and concede to his skill and go load up your arsenal.

Ages 18 and up

Ammo not included

Warning: small explosive pieces may cause choking…if you’re lucky.

Blog Wild A Go-Go

This post is coming to you live from a public library computer.

I'd like to think of it as being on location.

I am supposed to be out getting a few books. I couldn’t help it that the poor computer was staring at me, come hithering me over to use it. Big sad monitor all lonely.

Be kind to your local technology. It’s a rule.

Do you think I need to join Bloggers Anonymous? Is this the first sign of a problem? Do you think….Aw hell….

Jimmy Crack Corn!

That’s right! Yes, this blog is a guilty pleasure for me. I admit it. There.

Admitted it- First step.

Not giving a crap-Second step.

Now go chase someone with a real problem.

Not shaking this vice. Can’t make me. No matter how many frowns I may get because I shoved some poor soul out of my way so that I could use the computer first.

She probably has insurance.

Anyway, I have always been of the school –Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry and you cry alone. Well the other day, I lost it over lint and I could swear that the cat got a little misty. No longer holds water.

And before becoming a mom, whenever I would hear a mother yelling at a child in the store or at the park I would wonder- Now what kind of a woman yells at her kid that way?

Now seven years into it, when I hear a mother yelling in the store or at the park I wonder Now what the hell did that kid do to their mother to make her have to scream like that. Tsk tsk.

‘Ahem…. excuse, me but there are several patrons waiting to use this computer.’

The librarian gently nudges.

Uh helloooo, typing here! ‘Yeah, okay, I’ll be off in a sec.’

Whore.

So as I was saying…

‘You’ve been on here for quite a while. I think that it is time for someone else to take a turn’ One of the patrons pointed out.

Hmm...Now how would a healthy well-balanced individual have responded?

How the hell should I know?

I've been kicked out of better.

Whew! Thank God for my laptop!

The Age Old Post

Nellie Olsen was a whore.

And really what can you expect with Nells being a homo. You know you were all thinking it so don’t even.

Now why do I feel that I just crossed an imaginary line here? Oh well, as long as I’m here…

I was visiting a fellow blogger recently and a comment I left spurred me to write this post. Or maybe it was Bob Barker. Who knows? I can’t help it (voices remember).

When I was younger, Charles Ingalls was my first crush. Until I fell in love with Scott Baio that is. Never did find out why he didn’t show up for the wedding. Bastard.

But before all the jilted anger, plowing and farming in Walnut Grove was where it was at for me. Small town, five families (un-mafia related) who wore the same clothes every day and came to your rescue whenever you needed. You married old man Tucker at thirteen and lived happily ever after wearing lemon verbena perfume.

I didn’t go for the Walton Boy. Couldn’t get past the whole mole thing.

Back in the day, I would have traded today’s technology for Walnut Grove in a pre-antibiotic heartbeat. Well what the hell did I know?

I wonder if that show were to air fresh today, would it have the same affect on this generation as it had on ours. My hope is that it would but my reality antennas tell me that it would be flipped faster than a non-reality pancake.

I mean really. How could such quality T.V. possibly hold up to today’s display of….such wonderful shows as….um…like…you know the one where…..

Remember when we were awed by the special effects of the original Star Wars or Trek?

We were so easy.

There are some days when I still pine for Charles (Ingalls or In Charge). And will admit that if I do come across a re-run, I will slam the remote down in fierce decision and watch it like it just came out yesterday.

So you may now be able to guess my age by this post but you know what? I’m not worried.

‘Cause you’ll never guess my weight! They can’t right?.... Shut up, they’ll hear you!

Me and Bob Barker

So guess what?

The other day someone asked me for some blogging tips.

Can you imagine? Me?

Yeah, I know but still. I took this as a huge compliment and definitely considered not answering her email.

What advice could I possible offer? She wanted to know how she could make some extra money blogging (and as soon as someone can fill me in, I will be happy to pass that info along).

All I can do is put myself out there and hope someone likes what they see… enough to pay for it. I refuse to blog about cat litter boxes –even if they are paying a whopping $1.50 per post.

Selling my body wouldn’t go for much more but still, it’s the principle.

Anyway, I blog for love not war.

All’s I know is that if I ever did make money doing this so fun blog, I think my husband would drop of a heart attack…which would lead to a large life insurance settlement…which could in turn be considered making money from blogging…what? It could count. I’m only trying to help.

But instead of boring her to death with all that, I thought of writing her and responding the only way that I know how; by butchering a quote from a French philosopher:

I feel, therefore I blog.

Why did she ask me again?

Let’s see….I'll start at the beginning…..Type in Google….What is a blog?.....answer:

Your blog is whatever you want it to be- Got that straight from Blogger,btw

And blogs mean and are so many different things to so many different people.

Maybe I’m an authority on the minority? Or perhaps she senses the train wreck passion that I have for this blog and is inexplicably drawn to it. Maybe I was the only one with a legitimate email address.

But she did ask so in true can’t-ever-keep-my-mouth-shut fashion, I told her that I once read a blog about a blog who blogged about a blogger who blogge…ouch my head.

Anyway, she said ‘write good content and the rest will follow.’ She might have said more but that was all that I heard.

Well there you have it folks! Brown stained pearls of wisdom - our next item up for bid on the Blog is Right!

Betcha nobody asks me again.

What can I say?

You can’t polish a sneaker.