Ack Zombies!

Mindless drones wandering the city in search of brains! Hub has a fantastic article about how to be prepared for the eventuality of a zombie invasion. You can never be too careful.

Unfortunately, I find the article a little lacking. I mean, what if the zombie is in the form of an over-bleached, over-tanned trophy wife? It could happen. Just look here. That must be the explanation. She’s a zombie. She keeps buying clothes and Starbucks, but what she really needs are brains. Delicious brains.

So the question here is what to do about this particular kind of zombie. Sturdy scissors are the solution. When she comes at you with her credit cards, simply slice up the worthless plastic. She’ll be reduced to a shrieking pile of make-up and silicone, and you can walk away unscathed.

Don’t worry about her six kids, the marker-wielding liberals will take care of them. It’s all about the chiiiiillldren! Or so they say. Really they are just churning out entitlement hungry zombies. (See, I got back to the zombie point)

These are easy to conquer. Take their food stamps and give them lawn mowers or dust mops. This eliminates both the welfare zombies and the illegal-immigrant zombies in one swoop.

October 23, 1978

Yep, it’s my birthday. That’s the actual date of my emergence from my mother. Do the math, I’ll wait.
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Are you finished? Or has the school system failed. Here’s another minute.
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Don’t you hate it when people add superfluous spaces? And make you do math while reading a blog? That’s just wrong. I’ll stop. I’m 29 today. Yep, the first time too. I’m told it will be the first of many times that I turn 29. That is, once I convince them that I’m not kidding. As of today, I’m not afraid of turning 30 or 40 or anything else. That may change in the next 364 days, or 10 years and 364 days, I just don’t know. What annoys me is that everyone laughs when I tell them that I am 29 today. Seriously people. Do I look enough older than 29 that I should have any business lying about my age? The profile pic was taken last year; I don’t think I look that much different but I will try and get a more recent one for your enjoyment.

So Happy Birthday to me! Yada. Yada. Yada. Didn’t get me a gift? That’s okay. I accept random donations. It’s not tax deductible.





JK Rowling is a Pimp

Yep, I said it. You know why? Because she is whoring out one of her characters for a little publicity.

Harry Potter fans, the rumors are true: Albus Dumbledore, master wizard and Headmaster of Hogwarts, is gay.

Here’s the story. Apparently, this is news. It has absolutely no bearing on the character and frankly, I think making it an issue cheapens the story somehow. You know, during the hours I spent reading these books, I never once wondered whether Albus Dumbledore preferred inies or outies. Now I have the answer to a question that I never even thought about asking.

Honestly, I don’t want to know the details of what anyone wants to do with another consenting adults. I certainly don’t care about the private life of a fictional character.

Well Mr Headmaster-Wizard, you better get out there and earn mama some more money before she has to slap you around. And let that be a lesson to all the young witches and wizards, Ms. Rowling wants her bling.

They stole it from us. The precious

Nope, not about Lord of the Rings in any way shape or form. Just me griping about unnatural time.

In March of this year, an hour was hijacked. That’s right. Stolen while we slept. No one even left a note. I would have paid the ransom. But no. They stole it from us with promises that it would be returned in November. They make it sound like my precious hour is going on an extended vacation. I’m sure in reality they are keeping it a little room with no sunlight and only bread and water for sustenance. Right now, it’s probably being subjected to daily water torture. Just wait until the pictures come out.

It’s a conspiracy I tell you! They are trying to control us. It’s much harder to think clearly when haven’t had enough sleep. And the extra snoozing just eats up the time when hubby could make espresso. Instead, I have to drink the G.A.A.C. (Generally Accepted As Coffee) at the office. This is why people bring guns to work! I know it’s true, here’s the biblical reference:

If you shout a pleasant greeting to your neighbor too early in the morning, it will be counted as a curse! Proverbs 27:14

Words to live by, don’t you think?

Jack-O-Lantern



Was having a conversation about Jack-O-Lanterns. This was what we did last year. Don’t know how I’m going to top that this year.

Judge of Character

*snicker
I always chide myself for reading some gossip story about celebrities. That is, until I find a real gem like this piece. Scroll past the thing about Britney’s underwear (or lack thereof), there it is! I could really care less about Owen Wilson being on or off the wagon. This is the part that makes me giggle:

Won’t somebody please listen to Courtney Love?!….“Night in the Museum” co-stars are hanging together once again, despite Courtney’s warnings.

Ha! Ha! Ha! What kind of a person do you have to be for Courtney Love to call you a bad influence? This Steve guy must really be trouble. Hmm, who should one ask about staying clean and sober? Well Courtney’s certainly spent the time researching rehab and how not to do it, maybe she really is the expert.

Whiny lazy parents

I read this today and just got annoyed. If you don’t want to follow the link, it’s a story about parents fears, sex offenders, and trick-or-treating. Here’s an excerpt

“Obviously, there’s something not right in those people’s minds. Anyway, so there’s no telling what they would want to give to a child or even what they’re thinking about when your child goes up to the front door,” said Jasan Hazzard.

I agree, sex offenders are scary. But have you ever thought about, I know it’s crazy, but going out with your kids? I know, active parenting. It’s a lot to ask. I could be wrong, but I am betting that if you are standing two steps behind your child the scary guy isn’t going to yank your precious goblin into his home. And if he tried, you could do something about it

You know, when I was a kid, my dad went with me into the neighborhood. It was great. He carried extra bags in his coat and he would carry the overfilled bags for me. I wasn’t allowed to eat any of the candy until after I got home and it had been throughly checked by my parents. We walked through the entire neighborhood so there were plenty of calories burned. Same rules apply with my son. We make an event out of it. Hubby and I get dressed up to take the kiddo out for the annual sugar fest. We have fun and we get to spend time together as a family.

But our family has become the minority. Once we have finished our rounds and returned home, we flip on the porch light and welcome the miniature ninjas, witches, and princesses. Our candy solicitors fall mostly into 2 groups:
1. Chubby kids waddling from mom’s still running SUV. These kids might become terribly out of breath if forced to actually walk down a whole street. I almost feel guilty giving them such calorie laden treats. That is until I see the porky chocolate stained fingers of the parental chauffeur. I can only hope their poor overworked heart prevents future procreation. At least rescue crews can properly train with these.
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2. Kids I have never seen before in the 8 previous Halloweens that I have passed out candy from the same location. A quick glance to the street reveals no parents to be seen. I often wonder how long it would take before they would be missed. I shouldn’t, but I always worry about these kids and often watch them heading on down the street until they are out of range. I’m sure I have already invested plenty of my hard earned money in raising them via state programs, is it really so much more to spend an ounce of concern on them?

Attention parents, here’s a novel idea. Try parenting. The responsibility is yours, not the state’s, not the policeman’s, and certainly not your neighbor’s. You can look up the addresses of sex offenders in your area, don’t send your kid knocking on that door. But that does require you to actually be involved in your kids activities so it’s probably asking too much.

Love and Laughter

As my regular readers are aware, it’s been a rough time for my family lately. Granddad passed away around 3 o’clock on Thursday October 11th. He will be greatly missed by us all. I’ve been told by a few people that reading my entries through this whole thing has been comforting to them. I’m so glad. I’ve drawn a lot of comfort from the support offered to me by so many of you.

Since Thursday, my aunt and uncle opened up their home to all of us. It’s served as the base where food is delivered and serves as some insulation from the outside world. As much as I appreciate the concern, there are only so many times I want to answer the question, “How are you doing?” and “Are you okay?” Not to mention, “Is there anything I can do?” I am doing as well as can be expected. Honestly, even though I had been preparing for this, it has still been a lot harder than I thought. There is something you can do, keep us in prayer. If you want to do something in addition to that, the family has asked that donations be made to Odyssey House or the American Cancer Society. By no means do I want anyone to refrain from showing their concern, but it is nice to have a haven from it.

I don’t know how it is with other families, but there haven’t been a lot of tears when we are all together. We’ve brought in everyone’s photo albums which have been strewn about my aunt’s living room and den. She and my mother are scanning select pictures to be made into a slideshow for the memorial service. The rest of us have been sitting around looking through the albums and reminiscing about wonderful stories. There are several pictures that I had never seen and stories that I had never heard. There’s lots of laughter and the love is tangible.

In one album were sketches that I had heard about, but never previously seen. I will be getting copies. These are beautiful pencil sketches done by POWs after WWII. Two of Granddad and 2 of the office they built for him. Granddad was over a POW camp in France. Granddad always treated these men as equals. He knew they had been drafted into the war just like he was and never treated them as enemies. The men loved him for it. They built him his own office, made him a clock, and crafted an ashtray out of artillery shells that is in my mother’s living room today. The clock was stolen by a GI that was charged with making sure it got home. The POWs shipped the ashtray and that actually made it back. He treated those men with dignity which they returned to him. I don’t believe Granddad ever met an enemy, just peers that happened to be on the opposing side.

Yesterday my cousin, who has an inborn gift for children, brought sugar cookie supplies. Her 2 year old son and my 8 year old son made cookies. When it came time for sprinkles, he said to my son, “open your mouth” and proceeded to sprinkle directly into my son’s mouth. Everyone cracked up. I’m so proud of my son for doing so well with his younger cousins. Actually I am very proud of the way he has handled all of this. Explaining Granddad’s death to him was one of the hardest things to do. As he said his prayers the other night he asked that God show Granddad around in heaven so Granddad could show it to us someday. Kids say it so well sometimes.

Tonight, the church is feeding the family. I am looking forward to some more family time. The memorial service is tomorrow afternoon. It’s going to be hard. As will the upcoming holidays. But I am really lucky to have my family and my wonderful spouse with me. I think it is better for us to have each other to lean on.