I’ve been waiting for S to get her camera back from the shop.  She’d been promising to take photos of Creepy Barbie and the piggies.  I’ve decided to throw in the wedding dress photo just for kicks and giggles.

My life is just hilarious.  In fact, it’s so funny… I forgot to laugh.  These photos are there for the remindin’… to really yuck-it-up when the moment hits you.

Enjoy and make fun of ‘em all you like:

Hideous, isn’t she? (Quick addendum ’cause S saw adena’s comment and made me: she’s made of porcelain.  There.  Ya happy now?)

When looking at this next photo, keep several things in mind: 1.) It was in the wee hours of the morning and I have bed-head and absolutely no undergarments on save a pair of tube-socks; 2.) I initially agreed to do this because the dress didn’t fit S and it did fit me.  It was never intended to be shared.  Don’t ya’ll feel so special (or totally weirded-out) now?; 3.) When S photographs me, I either have my mouth open or I am piercing a pre-laugh-smile.  This would be an example of just before the laugh; 4.) I am, in fact, a glowing angel for even putting this thing on and allowing my photo to be taken.  I’m still reaping rewards because of it.

Piggies:

Blue frosting lip gloss:

The real me.  I clean up pretty well but I’m still a poseur when pressed.

Normal?  What’s that?

• “City of Blinding Lights” -U2
• “Suddenly I See” -KT Tunstall
• “I’m a Believer” -Smash Mouth (just in time for Shrek the Third)
• “Get Ready” -The Temptations
• “Ready to Run” -Dixie Chicks
• “Rock This Country” -Shania Twain
• “Beautiful Day” -U2
• “Right Here, Right Now” -Jesus Jones (Are you kidding me?)
• “I’ll Take You There” -The Staple Singers

Now for my picks:

Hillary:

• “Trouble is a Woman” -Melinda Doolittle (American Idol pisses me off so much. I’m never watchin’ that show again. However, this would be a very powerful statement and song, as sung by Melinda, and a testament to how Hillary handles Bill and consequently, the nation.)

Bill Richardson:

• “Theme from Rawhide” -Blues Brothers (Head ‘em up and Move ‘em out, Bill! You can even use your horse, if’n ya wanna.)

John Edwards:

• “Let’s Work” -Mick Jagger (This song is so totally perfect for a man with a 29 million dollar self-worth. Look it up; read the lyrics.)

Barack Obama:

• “I Want to Conquer the World” -Bad Religion (The lyrics just about say it all. While not exactly *dance* music, it sets the world on edge…)

Al Gore:

• “Come to My Window” -Melissa Etheridge (I thought I’d include ol’ Al, just ’cause it made me laugh at the thought.)

Okay, now it’s your turn! (You didn’t really think I was going to include Republican candidates, did you? Oh, hell no!)

And for your viewing pleasure, I give you Hillary and her funny little plea for help:

That title looks like a lawsuit or something. Actually, it’s in reference to my trying to watch Oprah this week. I know, I know; one week I’m totally annoyed with her and the next I’m TIVO’ing. The only reason I’m TIVO’ing is because I had two BOE meetings to go to and, dang it, why can’t they have these meetings later? It’s cuttin’ into my Oprah time. Most other parents have complained that they would like the meetings to be later because they have jobs. Yeah, I need to get with the job program versus the TIVO’ing programming. Heh!

(I do have a job on the hook however, we are waiting for the regional HR person to get back from vacation to approve the wage. It’s workin’ for me ’cause the kids are on Spring Break next week. Hopefully, I’ll hear a yay or nay by then.)

This week’s Oprah shows are repeats but I don’t care; they are hilarious. Oprah and Gayle are on their road trip and I don’t think I’ve laughed out loud this much EVER over an Oprah show. It has totally caused me to fly out the door late for both meetings (well, okay, we also had parent/teacher conferences and a vehicle break-down) and have to drive like a maniac in the rain. I wasn’t the only one. Man, people do not know how to drive in the rain!

Do you ever get really excited over something so mundane that you question your sanity (or affirm your need to get a damned job)? This has happened twice this week in the form of shampoo. Yes; shampoo. And lip gloss. Yes; lip gloss. S and my mom and I had our manny/peddy/eye-brow-waxin’ this week and I’m more excited about new shampoo and lip gloss. Good times!

I found the most faboo lip gloss but ya’ll don’t really care about that, now do ya? It’s got shea butter in it… fabuloso smooth. Hey, YOU try living in this dry climate and try to figure out what kind of lipstick to wear. I think Maybelline should come to Albuquerque and check out how much business they are missing by not pandering to the crater-lipped women here. I’ve been doing my own informal survey and, man-o-man, someone needs to do some edumakating on the values of lip gloss and chapstick. This could be why a lot of people appear to be speaking out of both sides of their mouths. Or, am I imagining this? I always feel like I’m talking to Abigail Van Buren (Dear Abby) as so many people seem so side-mouthed-affected. Huh.

I was late for the BOE meeting Wednesday night. Between parent/teacher conferences, Oprah, the rain, and a bunch of dumb asses on the freeway, I walked into the meeting ten minutes late. As soon as I walked my rain-soaked, doo-reactivated, lip-glossless self into the building, I was asked if I would “Please, Please…” do an interview with the TV news crew about the anti-bullying policy. In my best deer-in-the-headlights-fashion, I said, “Sure. But can you photoshop me and only get me from the neck up ’cause these are the same clothes I had on at the parent/teacher conferences and I have mustard and Magic Marker all over me.”

WTF was I thinkin’? I did okay and the kids, who watched it the next morning ’cause we TIVO’d it, thought I was a movie star. All I could think of was, “Oh. Is THAT what I look like?”

God. Ahh… all for the greater good… (whatever) and I sure wish more parents would show-up to these things but nooooooo… ’cause… they all have joooooooooobbbbbssss…. pffftttt.

Our van blew-up yesterday. The blitch. S drove through some running water (it was raining buckets) and suddenly, all of the bells and whistles and check engine lights and temperature gauges went crazy. She (barely) made it home and there she (the van, not S) sits… dripping green gunk. So, today we are managing a tow truck driver and service department; all of whom will receive nasty letters after the danged blitch is flixed. (Has anyone else noticed that I’m writing in some kind of strange affect today?) There’s nuthin’ like yer vehicle blowin’-up to make yer day. Blastards

We just got a call from the social worker at the school. Evidently, oldest is in the middle of a melt-down because, “I don’t have my red folder!! I don’t have my red folder!!” WTF? He’s supposed to be in the middle of reading and he’s melting down over an administrative issue. The social worker wants to “reassure” him about his damned red folder and I told her to go ahead; we’ve already assured him a bazillion times to no avail. Somehow he got it in his head that if we didn’t fill out the forms in the now infamous red folder, he wouldn’t be able to get into the fifth grade. *sigh* The kid can’t (won’t) brush his own hair in the morning but he can worry about administrative duties. Maybe I should re-focus him on the new shampoo?

From the parent/teacher conference… According to middle child’s teacher, he’s only heard that little Leprechaun voice a couple of times and he’s had to have a conversation with him once about… wait for it… the urinals in the boy’s bathroom. Huh? Are the urinal cakes talking to him and he’s trying to talk back? Nope. He’s standing back, about 4 or 5 feet, and showing off how far he can pee… and hit the bullseye. So, there we all are, trying to not laugh until finally, we all just crack up. Between giggles, I tried to get what really happened.

Okay, so, let me get this straight: you’ve heard him talking in that little Leprechaun voice while standing 4-5 feet away from the urinal and hitting the bullseye? No, no; the Leprechaun voices happen in the classroom. Oh, okay, so, you were in the bathroom with him? (I’m thinkin’, what in the hell does this have to do with his academic achievements?) No, some kids told on him. Ohhhhhhhhh… okay. So, Mr. M had to have a “little talk” with middle child about how showing off how far he can pee is not appropriate.

Oh. My. Lord. What is wrong with this child? His teacher says he’s going to get clocked, once he’s in middle school, if he doesn’t get a little maturity under his belt. He actually said it just like that; under his belt. Well, Mr. M, we are all going about this in the wrong way; let’s leave the “under his belt” stuff out of it and tell him to quit fooling around while pee’ing. (The more I deal with this, the more I know that I totally had no idea what I was signing on for…)

Youngest has suddenly become quite verbose. The other night, we were all eating dinner and youngest began waving his arms around and talking what we all thought was a bunch of gibberish. Upon closer inspection, I realized that he was signing (sign language) the alphabet and singing the alphabet song along with it. I know a little sign language and engaged him. He couldn’t believe that I knew what he was doing and we all just laughed and sang along with him. This just made our hearts sing…

Back to my hair: (’cause it’s so damned important, dontcha know) Man, I love this new shampoo. And wouldn’t you know it; the one day I didn’t use it, I was on TV. All the other days, my hair looked fabulous… and then on the fourth day (not the seventh, ya’ll) it (my hair)

R E L A X E D

I guess I didn’t read the instructions very well. I should only use it once or twice a week. It is shampoo designed for black folks hair (which is very, very different from my thin, curly hair) and has olive oil in it. The boys can use it daily but not me; no Siree Bob.

I’ve gone flat.

Damn.

I guess it could be worse: I could be on TV with F L A T hair. I look like a blond-ish version of Chachie’s mom (of “Joanie Loves Chachie” fame) and it’s killin’ me. I hated that show.

Pardon me while I go fluff…

Isn’t this just the cutest picture? It’s scanned and totally crooked (I only say this because I feel the need to defend myself considering I live with a photographer.) and it just cracks me up every time I see it.

My mom used to cut my bangs. Can you tell? She cuts bangs like she sings.
(*waving* Hi, mom!)

My youngest sister has a Band-Aid on her forehead because she ran into a table or something. She’s actually laughing even though it looks like she’s crying. My middle sister was always such a little princess. She used to wear MY patent-leather Mary-Jane’s to play in and kept hers in the closet so they’d still be “pretty.” Biotch!

Me? Well, check out the bed-head. I’ve come full circle. Check out those cat-eyes. I was so not cool. I’ve worn glasses since I was 22 months old. I think that’s a POW bracelet I have on but I’m not sure. I remember having one but don’t know if I had it when I was this young.

My grandmother used to make our Easter, Christmas, and I can’t remember what else outfits. This looks like it might be Christmas ’cause all of the dresses are red. It was always like pulling teeth to get me to wear a dress. I actually like wearing them now. It’s the nylons I can’t stand.

I can’t believe I’m holding a dolly. I hated playing with dollies. Oh, the things I used to do to my Barbie and Ken! I was one of those kids who had tons of plastic horse statues. It pissed me off that ol’ Barbie had those straight, inflexible legs and she just had no purpose in my play-life unless she could ride. So… after I got a chemistry set for Christmas (What in the hell were my parents thinking?) I first made Ken into a burn victim with my handy-dandy Bunsen burner. He was constantly being attended to by those little green plastic army dudes. He lived in a cave and would forever be at the mercy of the experimenting scientists. I still say it’s actually a good thing he wasn’t anatomically correct.

Then, I put Barbie on the hot seat and melted her legs so she became the very first version of a character Barbie: “Bowlegged Barbie.” Finally, the bwitch was functional other than dry-humping poor ol’ “Burn-Victim Ken.” I also gave her a haircut so I guess you could actually call her “Bowlegged Lesbian Barbie.” There’s something kinda wrong with that, though.

I was looking at the boys tonight as we were all eating dinner. Youngest is now taller and bigger than middle child and oldest has lost weight (he used to be pudgy) since we’ve moved here. I blame his loss of weight on his teacher’s constant nagging about good nutrition. He has a very good diet; we hardly ever eat junk. However, he’s taken to eating smaller portions as he’s now “watching” his weight. WTF?

None of these boys are as clever as I was in my youth. (Or so I thought I was in my own mind. HA!) I drove my mom nuts by smashing flower petals and making “Indian Dye.” I, um, borrowed a few of her sheets and executed my first attempts at Batik. It was really cool and I wished I had white t-shirts so I could make myself a “hippy-shirt” and wear it with my hideously brown-with-yellow-flowers bellbottoms. Alas, I knew she would kill me if I used one of my white catholic school uniform shirts. Besides, that would have been totally dumb. I would also pick the fruit that grew in our backyard (figs, lemons, almonds [technically a nut], blackberries, and three different kinds of plums), smash it up, and then bury it in baby food jars. Just in case. Of what, I totally have no idea. Nuclear war? (STOP! DROP! AND ROLL!)

No, these boys just break stuff; they don’t make stuff. The only things they’ve ever made were paper airplanes. After a few feeble attempts, I ended up folding all of the papers for them. I don’t know what the differences are that they don’t seem to have the same level of imagination I had when I was a kid. I can only blame Nintendo. Oh, and, well, maybe the fact that I wouldn’t dare to buy them a chemistry set or let them within ten miles of matches/lighters. They do have two telescopes, binoculars, each has a camera (duh; that’s a no-brainer in this house), and lots of art supplies. Play-doh is forbidden ’cause it gets eaten or stuck to the rugs, walls, dogs, beds; you name it. Just the other day, Dman took a red marker and drew all over both storage sheds, the outside walls, and all over the patio furniture.

I. Could. Have. Killed. Him.

They ask for stories about my youth all the time. I haven’t told them about Barbie, Ken, Batik, Bunsen Burners, and Iron Pyrite.

Hey, I’ve learned a thing or two about a thing or two since I was 11. I’ve learned even more since these boys moved in with me. I may share these stories with them once they are say…. 45.
Hopefully, they’ll be living on their own by then.

I’ve made a few changes around the old blog recently. I’ve decided to stop boring ya’ll with my Board of Education, Albuquerque Public Schools, and legislature business on this h’yere blog. So, what did I do? I created another danged blog. I’m up to five now.

I’m sure there’s a cure for this but I’m just not ready to take the first step and admit that I should probably just get a damned job already.

Anyway, I didn’t feel comfortable talking about a school district and a man having his penis cut off (not once but twice!) on the same blogorama. There might be a flow there but it just didn’t feel right. Something about credibility and humor just not working in the same archival flow.

I ought to be back to my charming, potty-mouthed self in no time.

If you were actually interested in the APS stuff, you can go here:

4 *A*cademic *P*ositive *S*olutions

Kinda has a nice ring to it, que’ no?

Anyway, I’m feeling minty-fresh and Calgon-calm; not to mention I feel like I’ve taken a big du… erm… *purge* now that I’ve cleaned things up abits.

Nuthin’ like a good blog colonic to restore my former potty-mouth diatribes.

Eh?

I started my day today by checking my stats. I had only one sip of coffee by the time the site came up and I thought I was seeing things. On a good day, I have about 50 hits to this site. My regulars come by (all 11 of you) and I check for comments or re-read my own words at least 39 times a day. God, what a doofus I am.

But today I had lots and lots and lots of hits first thing in the morning. What in the heck was going on? Most of them were coming in from CBS news so I clicked to check it out. Sho’ nuff, there I was, being quoted for, of all things, my post on The Secret.

You know, just yesterday I wrote a rambling, long-ass post about communication and I was thinking, hmmm… was it really that interesting? Evidently not. Oh, no SirreeBob. Was it my Petroglyph post that so cleverly wove together space, Petroglyphs, and Led Zeppelin? Nope. The Secret. And I sound like a looney-toons New Ager having a harmonically-intonated-vortex-shaken-and-I-can’t-get-up moment. *Oooohmm*

Check it out HERE.

It seems that Melissa P. McNamara found me and quoted and linked me about The Secret. Was I one of the more skeptical bloggers? Noooooo… not me. I feel all breathy or something.

“Any.. time… (takes a breath) something… reszzzzzoooonates…(takes a breath) that… strrrrrrronnnngly within me… (takes a breath)…Iknowittobea…truthforme. (takes a big breath)

And then I saw it… the IP address from Chicago… the one with the word Oprah in it…

Oprah? Is that you? Did ya stop by? Are ya mad at me ’cause I called you the Ponce de Leon of The Secret? Are you now irked? Well, get over it, hon, ’cause it’s true. I love you, God’s knows I’s do… but a woman’s not safe in a family of Oprah if she’s tryin’ to get a word in edgewise.

By the way, I’m still writing that memoir… so, if Random House ever gets around to publishing me, and I promise to not stretch the truth into a million little pieces, can I still come on your show? I’ll even let you talk about my book the entire time.

There are exceptions for everything.

I haven’t posted for some time. I’ve been really busy and it seems my cup runneth over daily.
Here’s a quicky:

The heck with “The Secret.” Here is my Rob Brezny Free Will Astrology horoscope:

Pisces Horoscope for week of February 22, 2007
“Think dangerously!” read the headline on today’s bright yellow piece of junk mail. That sounded inviting. I’m always eager for help in overthrowing my certainties. But the product being promoted inside the envelope was just a piece of propaganda: a magazine touting Libertarian dogma. I threw it in my recycling bin along with all the other doctrinaire crap I constantly get from fundamentalists of every stripe, including rightwing religious nuts and leftwing atheists, New Age pollyannas and intellectual cynics, science-haters and science shills. Now here’s the climax of this horoscope, Pisces: *Really* think dangerously. Question *every* belief, your own as much as everyone else’s. French author André Gide said it best: “Trust those who are seeking the truth; doubt those who find it.”

The ironic thing is that I *Really* have been. *Every* belief, word, sentence, eye contact has been under my scrutinous eye. I took one of those Thursday meme thingies today that supposedly measured how cynical I am. Supposedly, I am 28% cynical. I don’t believe it.

I had a meeting with a woman today and I swore I had the right answer regarding the item we were discussing. I didn’t. I’m going to have to write to her and concede the point. I don’t have a problem doing this but I have to wonder why I so totally thought I was right.

My Dogma ate my meme. I have no other excuse.

I read a lot of technical stuff and sometimes need a break just to be able to stay somewhat sane.

Here’s one of my daily chuckles:

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)
Due to forces beyond comprehension, you will begin talking with a Texas accent. Eventually, you’ll come out with audio tapes to teach this to others, which you will call “Bubba-Bonics.”

I find, that of all the horoscope predictions, Humorscope is almost always the most accurate. I think I’d be more successful if I work with compact discs, however.

You can find your Daily Humorscope here:

http://www.humorscope.com/

‘Cause sometimes… you’ve just gotta laugh!