Pride, yo!

In honor of gay pride weekend in Chicago...I am posting some selections from Someecards.com. Hey, if this isn't showing support to the gay community - I don't know what is.

I love someecards. They make me laugh out loud. Not really laugh - I just kind of let out a "HA!" There is something for every occasion at someecards.com. If you are easily offended I suggest you make it easy and just not read them.






This is so true:

Then...I am just adding this one because it is one of my favorites:

Put your cart away

One of the things in this world that annoys me is people that can't be bothered to return their shopping cart back to the shopping cart corral or back to the store. What is this about? I think these people really need to think about their life. What it is about, where they are, what there issue is. What in the name of Christ is so hard about walking 50 feet? I mean really. Are you that lazy? Come on.

Worse than not taking cart back: the person that is struggling and expending all this energy and time to hoist the cart up onto a curb as to secure the cart in that area....instead of taking it to a designated area.

It is such a god damn weird thing to do. It is like 'I am courteous and do not want my cart to go on the run and damage cars, yet I don't want to conform to the norms of society...so instead of just taking it back to the store which would be easier and quicker, I am going to mess around with this cart for 5 minutes and secure in on the curb.'

You know you have seen it. You may have done it. Stop it. We must stop this.

I will now be happy...

...I am no longer going to freak out about being all 31 and unmarried.

What freaks me the most about this is that I will get married late and it will too late for me to have children. And if I do - they will have issues.

Then...it dawned on me....my grandmother was 36 when she had my father and my grandfather was 40....

and that was in 1947.

Now - I am not saying my father does not have issues with rage - but he can function as an individual in society.

What the heck am I worrying about if my grandma was near social security when she had my dad??

I am a fool...this goes back to the peasant issue.

POWER TO THE PEASANTS! POWER! Royals and their deformed babies at age 30. I scoff at them.

You know what - I might not be in line for receiving any kind of royal inheritance...but I can have normal children in my mid to late 30's. And those kids will be warriors....WARRIORS...never to burn in the sun or fall ill to some alleged influenza. Is this real? I have never had this alleged illness...it is for cry babies. And NO - I am NOT getting that shot when I am with child - they will have to chase me down the street with it. My children are also not getting the chicken pox vaccine. I will send my kids to a chicken pox party like I was sent to. It wasn't a party - I was just sent to play with the neighbors because I was like 8 and never had them.

Why did I never have them? Peasant Blood. When you need to work in the field at 5 - you have no time for The Pox.

My mother also never took us to the doctor...you had to be coughing blood or a bone sticking out of your skin. It was like a getting a time out in rugby. But...I have been on antibiotics 5 times (and that is being generous) in my life. As I always say - my immune system could kill a bull with his balls tied up.

I gotta hand it to the peasants...

How shocking is this: I got one less set of vaccines than normal kids my age. My doctor believed it was unnecessary (a man before his time). I was not permitted to school. My doctor had to get on the phone or send a note or something. And now kids have an insane amount of vaccines compared to what we did. That is what Jenny says. I know nothing about it. I am lying - I will probably vaccine up my kid for fear of death.

But they will get the shingles and all the odd illness I have in my bag....I will admit that my peasant intestines can no hold up to food poisoning - we were never the royal testers. The score: Food Poisoning: 3 Dysentery: 1 Mere: conquered them all.

mmmm Dysentery....killed over half the people of westward expansion - Mere: conquered it. This is my most proud achievement to date. You try extreme pain - like someone is cutting your insides with a knife and shitting blood for 5 days...not my favorite part of life.. I was near suicide and I got through it... I consider it a triumph.

Watch out you royal sickly cry babies....the peasants are taking over the world.

However - there is one thing that is different from then and now....our fucking food. I swear this is the issue of today and people are ignoring it. I will spend the extra buck and only buy meat not influenced by hormones. It is probably aging my eggs. Great..now I need to waltz into my butcher and ask if it is hormone meat...I will be embarrassed. It is inexpensive..it must be. But all the trendy urbanites shop there.......I will call...they will lie to me.

Baked Goods...

This weekend I had to make cupcakes for a baby shower. I am not going to go into the cupcakes...just my complete insanity that goes along with them...

I hated how they turned out. I freaked out. I was going to throw them away and buy a cake at the local grocer.

This is how crazy I am. It is a shame I don't care this much about say...loosing 30 pounds and keeping my home tidy and flossing my teeth. Instead...I focus all my insanity of perfection on baked goods.

Which is worthless to myself and society in general.

Later I realized they were awesome and I was a fool for thinking otherwise.

Why do I care this much about my baked goods?

Because I like it when people are impressed. I like it when people swoon over my artfully decorated items.

"YOU made these?" they proclaim!

And I modestly say "Yes, yes I did"

"Oh it must have taken hours and hours!!!"

"Oh...no...no that long, it was nothing" I lie out my ass. In reality I was sweating over them...literally. If you ever taste one of my highly decorated cookies and something is slightly salty- that is probably a drop of my sweat.

This is what I live for. This flattery.

But every time this flattery occurs...my low self worth side creeps in and whispers to me: "They are just saying that because it is clear you made an effort and they don't want to hurt your feelings. They knew it took you 900 hours and they don't want you to feel bad. They are sparing your feelings. You are like a 31 year old mentally challenged girl that made macaroni necklaces for everyone at the group home. Everyone is saying they love them - when in reality you are just a sad, sad case with the mentality of a five year old"

This is all part of my crazy behavior.

Why do I do this? Why do I put myself through the insanity it often brings me? Because I like to make things special and I think that if I do this people will know I care. But maybe they just wanted a cake from the local grocer...too bad. When I am in charge - no one gets a cake from the local grocer. You will get my sweat laced baked goods and you can have the pleasure of knowing I went a little more insane in the process.

Proof of Peasantry

It has come to my attention that I am indeed of peasant stock. I require no sunscreen. My skin just deflects damaging UV rays. I was out riding my bike for at least 2.5 hours today in the sun without sunscreen. There is no change in color to my arms. None. If there is it is so slight I can not tell.

Thousands of years of my peasant people farming or possibly it is my Scandanavian Viking roots. When you have your ass in a field at age two or you are working a large ship and raping and pillaging all the live long day...this is what you give your lineage.

Of course I do burn - but it takes a long time. Sometimes it happens when I don't expect it - but for the most part...I require no screen.



I do apply the sunscreen to my face, everyday. But this is just to prevent premature aging and more importantly - to prevent my Juan Valdez. What is my Juan Valdez? It is this skin discoloration above my lip. No this is not unsightly hair. I remove the hair and the Juan Valdez is still present. This started happening two summers ago and now I am crazy for preventing it. Go ahead...stare at me sometime in the summer...you may see my Juan Valdez.

By the power of grayskull

First of all: Funny funny funny that two of you think I look like the lady from American Gothic. Do you not know anything of people with the self deprecating sense of humor? We are actually fragile people with low self esteem and self worth. We are trying to beat you to the punch. So then what do you do? You beat me. You bring me down by saying - yes - you actually do look like that old hag from American Gothic. I kid. I know you are kidding. I like it. I am glad we can share in the amusement.

The real problem is the three that think I look like this Melinda character. DUDE - she looks like Skeletor. Well...I guess it is a good thing I weigh six times her weight and I can be assured that at least 20 lbs of that is in my fat face and I don't actually look like He-Man's arch enemy.

That is all...now read my other new blog:

5 thoughts from the past few days

1. I do not care for Matthew McConaughey. I am not a conventional lady and I don't find him physically attractive. Too skinny. See post on David Beckham. But regardless of his looks. He is f-ing annoying. I mean really...do you really want to sit around and listen to his zen-excessive-dope-smoking-hippy-horsecrap? I think not. He is the kind of person that thinks they are smart and have it all figured out and in reality you just want to sit them down and say "Hey...I need you to understand you are dumb, possibly partially mentally disabled in some way. Please don't speak unless you are talking about the color of your shoes"

2. I favor the northern part of the U.S. to the southern.

3. Why is it when you hit the volume on a TV, the meter comes up across the bottom on the screen? Really it should come up the side, since the bottom is where subtitles and other information is located. This is a design flaw that needs to be addressed.

4. Why is it that I can't carry more than 3 oz. of liquid on a plane but someone can carry on their cat? The cat has more than 3 oz. of liquid in it and it is not even in a zip lock bag. If someone can board a plane with their dander spreading beast than I should be able to bored a plane with a liter of balsamic vinegar and light up a cigarette or a crack pipe.

5. I thought of becoming a flight attendant this weekend until I realized that I freak out about turbulence. I lean over and start begging The Maker to spare my life so I can get married and have some kids. At the very least spare my life until I loose at least 30 lbs. Why? Because in any situation when people die in freak occurrences - the will show a photo on the news. You know the drill: If it is an attractive thin girl, people think: Poor girl. That is so sad. It it is a chubby girl, people think: Oh well...perhaps now that the earth has been relieved of her weight some how global warming will be reversed, good riddance.

Now I really freaked out on the landing on this trip because of this:

The flight attendant says that we need to prepare for landing early since there are thunderstorms. "Blah blah put your seats up, store your carry-ons. OH - and just as a reminder - if there is an emergency landing you do need to leave your carry-ons behind. Thanks"

WHAT?

Is that foreshadowing?

Is that plane crash foreshadowing?

You are allowed to speak of emergency landings ONCE...and that is the in beginning of the flight. Not at then end when we are talking about thunderstorms.

We begin smooth flying....no turbulence. Nothing. Great. We have no landing gear. They forgot to de-ice the plane. The hydraulics are messed up. We have lost all engine power. We are going to die. We are going to land in Busse Woods and get eaten by savage deer. I could not find the station with the cockpit audio. I am left to assume I will soon be jumping into a large yellow slide...if I am lucky. Clearly they want to tell no one of our impeding doom as not to cause any kind of in-flight pandemonium.

Turns out...we lived.

Me and My Face

I am bored out of my skull because I had a piece of furniture delivered today and the AT&T man came. Far be it from me to go into work. I should be productive - but I choose not to be. Instead I entertain me with....me.

I was on my friend's blog for this and I said I would bring it to mine.

Why? Well...I like to talk about myself and I like to look at myself and flatter myself with who I look like.

My two favorite are actually the least flattering. I have been told I look like these people by more than one person on different occasions. Well expect the kid from Dazed and Confused...my friend used to play the last scene from that movie in slow motion and tell me I looked like him. As for American Gothic - I made that up. I can't help it. When I see the beginning of Desperate Housewives- I think. Damn it...I look like that farmer's wife.

There are a lot and most are flattering. I am telling you - this is what I have been told. I tried to find photos circa the era I was told that in. I also get told I look like a foreigner on occasion and people try to speak polish to me so I am not sure what that says.

Anyway so here are my look a-likes and me:

I would ask who yours are and post them - but I know that no one but my friend Katie will admit to the BAD twins. Own up to your bad twin...and we will talk.