tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66271341106902925942024-03-13T20:39:23.150-07:00"That's Southern Speak For"..There are lots of imposters...but there's only ONE Southern.Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-72151323650941126922009-04-24T07:01:00.001-07:002009-04-24T10:56:02.015-07:00Shelly's Great Topic: Boundaries and Co-DependencyI edited this post and republished it today, adding a P.S. at the bottom; thus, the takedown of the previous post on this subject.
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<br />Being as I wanted my very last comment while here to be in support of Ubermouth to prove that I have been and always would support and defend her, I'm leaving my take about the topic on Shelly's blog HERE instead.
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<br />At the bottom is a list of signs of "damaged boundaries."
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<br />The list is NOT for anyone to use to point fingers at others, it's a list to be used for self-examination, as our own behavior is the only thing we can control.
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<br />I've included a personal preface to drive home the importance of self-examination during or following any interaction.
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<br />I was initally a clinical social-work student, considered a whiz kid at insight into the human psyche. I had one year of therapy as a professional requirement and at the time, I realized I needed to get my own issues out of the way before I could help anyone else.
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<br />I got into Al-Anon and then further therapy later.
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<br />At the time, I was focused on my husband's drinking/drug behavior, refusing to focus on myself.
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<br />In therapy, however, I learned that I had PTSD, a depressive disorder (possibly environmentally-triggered), and codependency issues...and MY issues were the only thing I should spend my energy on and could control.
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<br />His behavior had given me an excuse to try to save someone else, which was a convenient distraction from working on my own issues. I'm ashamed to say now that it made me feel healthier that he was so fucked up.
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<br />However, if it was so bad, why wasn't I leaving? Because we don't keep doing things, even an abusive marriage, unless we're getting something out of it.
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<br />Many people wave co-dependency around like a victim banner, when nothing could be further from the truth. They blame all of their problems on the ill person or the user, thinking it makes them look like a long-suffering martyr and a saint to have to endure them.
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<br />In some cases, (one thing I DIDN'T do), when the user stops using or being dependent on their partner and begins to set healthier boundaries with them, the co-dependent partner feels lost and will put MORE stress on the user to "change back" by guilt trips, reminding the user of his issues or illness, simply because they need to feel needed and healthier and someone to blame.
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<br />The reason it's called co-dependency is that the partner has very similar issues to the user/ill person, only stronger coping skills. They often have trouble with boundaries themselves, but imagine themselves healthier because they aren't engaging in whatever behavior is considered the biggest problem. Not surprisingly, then, if someone changes in the dynamic, it's actually the user or admitted ill person themselves, not their partner, lol.
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<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>It is a common misconception that the weakest person in the dynamic or the "one with the problem" goes into therapy. </strong></span>
<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span>
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>In fact, it's often the healthiest and bravest person involved that is even willing to take a look at themselves honestly, admit to and take responsibility for any behavior.</strong></span>
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span>
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>It's the ones running around that refuse to ever take a look at themselves, blaming others for their problems or things they had a choice in doing, that are often the most unhealthy. </strong>
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<br /></span>Whatever the case, focusing on the other person's behavior entirely leaves us responsibility-less and trapped in a victim mentality, and as strong, intelligent, mentally healthy women, we know better than that. :)
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<br />Statistics have shown that victims of crime are often victims again as long as they stay in the victim mindset; the theory being that your mindset/attitude is drawing them to you and that predators can sense vulnerability coming off ya, they can smell ya a mile away, lol. In fact, it's not uncommon for abused women to fall into another abusive relationship, a rape or crime victim to experience a subsequent rape or be robbed again.
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<br />Why, because they love drama? No, because they're stuck in that vulnerable, victim mindset and feeling victimized is familiar to them; and if there ARE any predators in the room, they're gonna find you first.
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<br />Though there are times when we are truly innocent victims and people often do things to us out of their own issues, there are other things we need to take responsibility for our participation in; we need to at least at take a look at ourselves, what choices we made.
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<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Realizing that we have the power of choice and that we carry responsibility in relationships doesn't make us "to blame," nor does it mean we deserve abuse or mistreatment.</span></strong>
<br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">And mistreating or abusing in return is never justified; you don't get to blame your choices in behavior on the other person.</span></strong></p><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">As much as we want to blame solely one person, it still takes at least two, sometimes more in group dynamic situations.</span></strong>
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<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">If you choose to participate, you have to take responsibility for that choice regarding the type of communication you're engaging in and for engaging at all. </span></strong>
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<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Realizing we carry responsibility in relationships does not mean we are the "one with the problem" and it is not shameful, it's empowering...because we realize we have the power of choice and we can UNCHOOSE whatever that behavior is or that we engaged at all.
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<br />Even if I'm robbed, such as I leave my wallet in the car, it doesn't mean I DESERVE what happened to me, but I DO need to take responsibilty for the fact that I left myself wide open for crime. This is the only thing we can control, what we learned and will do next time.
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<br />Many of us with great empathy are drawn towards being the caretaker in relationships (usually because we had to grow up quickly and take care of our parents) and/or caretaking professions, which is actually codependency in many cases. Sometimes we imagine ourselves helping others, when in fact, it's a fine line between caretaking and control.
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<br />True therapists, pastors, nurses, etc aren't supposed to instruct or advise; they hold up a mirror to you and let you figure it out for yourself, directing you in certain directions, but letting you sound it out yourself... lest you become dependent on them.
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<br />Many people are drawn to this profession because they need to feel needed and it gives them a sense of control in an often chaotic world to analyze everybody else, and an excuse not to focus on their own problems.
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<br />As much as they need to do this to feel in control, they are also curiously drawn towards dramatic relationships and professions. They don't usually create it, but they are drawn to it because it's familiar to them. Let me tell you, realizing THAT was a jagged little pill for me to swallow in therapy....which is why I didn't continue in that profession. ;)
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<br />The healthiest client is the one that does not allow themselves to become dependent and sets boundaries with a therapist and vice versa so this will not happen.
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<br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">What are boundaries?
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<br />Most people that hide out on the net from real relationships and real life have no idea. They can recognize the lack of it in others, but refuse or are unable to see the same behavior in themselves. There is much hypocrisy on the net and little self-awareness...and as long as people are receiving public validation (enabling) the way they're behaving, they probably won't ever realize that.
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<br />But in fact, the mere fact that you are blogging about your life or what image you want to project publically and need public validation for shows us that, yup...you probably have at least a few boundary issues, lol.
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<br />It's cool, nobody had perfect parents and many people struggle with boundaries.
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<br /><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Boundaries</span> </span>are quite simply, each person in a relationship has the right to be a separate entity; where I stop and you begin. </strong>
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<br /><strong>The feelings of each person should be equally valued and though each should be sensitive to the needs of the other, no one should feel like they are walking on eggshells to please the other or need to keep changing behavior to make the other more comfortable. If you do,there's something wrong in the relationship dynamic and you both carry responsibility in that. </strong>
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<br /><strong>Boundaries are often misused. </strong>
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<br /><strong>They are not about teaching someone else how to behave or about boundaries without being asked, nor are they to shame someone else for not having learned them, weilding as a weapon of superiority; boundaries are about protecting ourselves from getting overly enmeshed in each others' problems and behaviors. </strong>
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<br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><strong>Here is the best list of signs of damaged boundaries I have seen yet...from Al-Anon. </strong></span>
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<br /><span style="color:#000000;">**This is NOT an exercise in pointing the finger at what's wrong with others, this is asking you to evaluate YOURSELF.
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<br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">1. Going against values or rights to please others.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">2. Giving more than you get back or simply for the sake of giving.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">3. Taking as much as you can take without regard for the others feelings.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">4. Believing others can mindread or anticipate what you need without being told.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">5. Expecting others to meet your need automatically, in exactly the way you think they should if they "really care about you."</span> <span style="color:#3333ff;">This includes guilt tripping, ultimatums, etc.
<br /></span><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">6. Expecting that others will meet your needs, even though they are neglecting their own to do so.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">7. Falling apart so someone can take care of you.</span>
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<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">8. Needing to feel needed, give advice without being asked, healthier or otherwise superior to someone else to feel comfortable in a relationship or good about yourself and in control.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">9. Letting others define you.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">10. Defining/analyzing others without doing the same to yourself. </span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">11. Telling too much too soon.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">12.Posturing; the inability to get vulnerable or be emotionally honest about what you ARE really feeling, out of fear. </span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">12. Allowing others describe your reality to you or define you.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">13. Describing others reality for them or defining THEM.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">14. Not noticing when someone invades your boundaries.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">15. Being unable to say "no" or stick to the "no" and handle the backlash of having d0ne so.</span>
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<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">16. Not being able to ACCEPT the word "no," whether an explanation is given or not, without retaliating with guilt trips, coercion, pressure, abusive comments, etc. </span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">17. Addictions such as drugs, alcohol, sex, the internet, spirituality etc. </span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">18. Refusal to take responsibility for or be held acocuntable for choices or behavior at all or without excuses or blaming.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">19. Taking on ALL the blame or responsibility in an interaction entirely.</span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>
<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">20.</span><span style="color:#3333ff;"> Not placing boundaries when someone is doing any of the above behaviors and it affects YOU alone, no one else</span>. ..<span style="color:#3333ff;">and not placing boundaries or adhering to them is YOUR responsibility.
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<br /></strong>Brilliant, and so true. Most people do at least three to four things on this list, I know I do. Doesn't mean you're crazy, but you have work to do...we all do...we're a work in progress.:)
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<br />P.S: ....
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<br /><strong>C,
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<br />Just because I asked you to take a look at a some of the things that were said that were hurtful, after apologizing to you repeatedly for my misstep in an email (that truly had no malicious intent) several times already, does NOT mean I'm saying YOU'RE to blame.</strong>
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<br /><strong>It does NOT automatically mean that I'm going to do to you what others have done here.
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<br /><strong>Just because I didn't do everything the way you think I should does NOT mean I didn't care about your feelings.</strong>
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<br /><strong>I'm not going to agree with you on everything 100%; I don't have to and I won't be guilt-tripped, etc. into doing so.
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<br />We are two people that have stepped on each other's tripwires after both being the target of some assholes on the net and we need to recognize that fact, both of us, taking responsibility for bringing in baggage from those past issues that does not belong.</strong>
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<br /><strong>It's not entirely YOUR fault, nor is it entirely MY fault...we both fucked up, but all I can do is take responsibility for MY misstep and leave you with the rest.
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<br />After today, you will see that you WERE wrong about all of these sudden accusations and ulterior motives you think I have. You will see that I'm no longer in contact with anyone here, that I wasn't going to trash you, I'm not (nor was I ever) part of the fight club, I really do have a daughter, and this situation will NOT turn out like others have treated you here.
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<br />I really cannot be raked over the coals for what I DID say in that email anymore; there was no malicious intent and I have apologized and done my best to make amends; however, you are correct, it should not have been said.
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<br />I still appreciate what you did for me, nothing has changed, and I would defend you vehemently to this day.
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<br />However, I cannot continue to focus solely on MY behavior and what you think I'm doing wrong and why any further without being met halfway....that's not a fair friendship and in my real life AND on the net, I don't allow friendships like that anymore, I'm sorry.
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<br />I had the password on the email account I was speaking with you on changed by someone else so that I won't even know what it was and will not be even be tempted to engage in any of this further.
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<br />Doesn't mean I don't still love ya and won't remember you fondly, swear to God...I just can't take being accused any more of things I didn't do and ulterior motives I don't have for saying something in email regarding how easily trigger happy we BOTH were now, yourself included (though you don't want to admit it), ending it with..."</strong>but ya gotta love her anyway<strong>.":)
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<br />I was in hopes we could all help each other heal, but we ARE still too trigger happy, suspicious and defensive; it's not just me.:)
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<br />Take care,
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<br />Chrys</strong>
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<br /></strong>
<br />Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-15554523205966580132009-04-22T19:27:00.000-07:002009-04-22T23:44:49.890-07:00More of a Post-It Than a Post...<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong><em>Ubes</em></strong></span>,</span></span> as you know, I've decided to call it a day.. :)<br /><br />This just isn't as much fun as it used to be....and you're right, I'm still too defensive and knee jerky here, lol.<br /><br />Blogger has also become a huge mess of blog wars and retaliative bullshit, it's almost irreparable.<br /><br />I'm just glad that I could post here for a few days (which I always should've had the right to do) without the Fight Club's delusions of grandeur and general psychosis...and the fact that I could post now was because of YOUR efforts, Ubes... and I will never forget it.:)<br /><br />I think that's what people don't get about you - not only your tongue-in-cheek sense of humor, but that your intentions are always the best, despite their sometimes crappy presentation.<br /><br />We don't always see eye-to-eye and that's okay with me. :)<br /><br />I just read that anon's comment and left you my last comment everrrr upon seeing it, lol, so feel special. <br /><br />See? Who still loves ya.;)<br /><br />And <span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><strong><em>Shelly</em>,</strong></span> I'm putting the dang picture back up, lol....BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY. Clearly, I failed miserably, lol. There was no other ulterior motive than that. And I rewrote this post because I wanted to put this post-it note to you as well.<br /><br />Let 'em see your sense of humor, Shelly, you're hilarious "in person." Plus you have a great laugh.:)<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#000000;">You know, everyone reading...if you're ever going to repair the mess that's been made of Blogger, you have to stop snap-judging and assuming the worst about each other, giving others the same benefit of the doubt you clearly expect for yourself.</span><br /></span></em></strong><br />If you want to know something, ask for clarification before jumping to conclusions...and if you make an accusation, you'd better have the proof to back it up...and not the impersonated/hacked/altered kind either. ;)<br /><br />God forbid, you might be... *gasp*...wrong and/or misinterpreted someone's behavior.<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;">And as Freud himself said...sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. ;)</span></em><br /><br /></strong>That's what really bugged me about blogging; you're damned if you do, damned if you don't.<br /><br />Regardless of what you do or don't do; people think they know the history and the motivation behind every action you take and that they know how they could've handled things better, never having been in that situation.<br /><br />And all too often, people project their own motivations onto the person or overly identify with them.<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;color:#333333;">Blogging is a snapshot of a person's life at a single moment in time...no more, no less.<br /></span></em><br /></strong>Please try to get over yourselves and not take yourselves so seriously, JEEZ, I thought I was bad, lol.<br /><br />Was I ever THAT caught up in all that behind-the-scenes bullshit?<br /><br />I guess I was, so no judgment here...but I don't WANT to be privy to those things now; who posted what and where and why and the history. I just wanted to do this for fun, getting feedback opinions and connectivity with people 'round the world. :)<br /><br />It's just a blog, peeps, not your life...unless you let it become your life<em><strong>.</strong></em><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">If you're going to stay, try bringing a little <span style="color:#3333ff;">good-natured</span> <span style="color:#3333ff;">fun</span> and <span style="color:#3333ff;">humanity</span> back to Blogger.:)</span></em></strong>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-57772391261474978482009-04-20T07:24:00.000-07:002009-04-22T06:22:46.824-07:00Oprah and the "Sex Toy" Scandal.;)This weekend, my friend Donut (below) asked me if I watched the Oprah "Talk-to-Your-Kids-About-Sex" episode.<br /><br />I told her no, I try to avoid Oprah at all costs, lest she haunt my dreams.<br /><br />Donut gave me an instant replay, recapping the opinions of the show's panel of psychologists, who claim that statistics support that children whom were spoken to about sex at an early age (age appropriately), birth control and STD protection actually WAITED to have sex.<br /><br /><strong><em>"Okay, I'm with ya,</em></strong>" says Donut.<br /><br />THEN, they went further and asked us as parents to consider buying sex toys for dealing with their sexual frustration...which is where they lost the Donut.<br /><br />I haven't seen this episode, but if any of you have, clue me in if this is incorrect? (Or just chime in with an opinion.)<br /><br />No, I'm sorry - I'm all for sex education and teaching my child coping skills, but some she develops on her own for self-reliance and quite frankly? Much like her homework, sexual frustration is HER responsibility, not mine.<br /><br />My daughter is nearly 15 years old and she has the healthiest attitude about sex I've seen for a girl her age. Since age 5, she knew all the body parts by their correct names and I answered questions that I considered age appropriate. Her friends love me because they know that they can talk to me about anything and I won't freak out (but they also know I will lay down that law, when necessary).<br /><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#333399;">They know, however, that I draw the boundary in that I won't discuss:</span></strong></em><br /><br />1) <strong>My personal sexual history in detail, other than what situations I regretted or remembered fondly, or how I felt about my first time (</strong>which actually was a beautiful experience; I was lucky, completely in love, well-protected and we were each other's first:<strong>)</strong> .<br /><br />2) <strong>I don't give "how to" lessons, other than condoms and birth control, lol.</strong><br /><br />I have told her that sex is a natural inclination, a basic human need; however, it's a private behavior and doesn't need to be shared with everyone. Like bathroom time, there's no need to broadcast it to the world or wield it as a distasteful weapon.<br /><br />I have also explained that her virginity is one of the few things in life she has complete control over; it's empowering, when life so often leaves us feeling so powerless, particularly as women - so why give up that power to just anybody?<br /><br />I've also explained that pleasing HER is just as important as pleasing HIM.<br /><br />Her father, the ultra-conservative, likes to pretend he didn't do the things he did when young, giving her an impossible standard to live up that he couldn't himself. He and I went round and round over giving her the Gardasil injection; his ignorant theory being that it will promote sex. His insurance will cover it completely; otherwise, I would have to pay out of pocket.<br /><br />His girlfriend (whom I adore) explained it just as I had done: <strong>"<em>Z, don't be an idiot....first of all, it takes years to work/build up immunity, which is why they get the shot so young. And even if she waits until marriage, you don't know where her husband has been...and what about rape? This is NOT about sex, this is about protecting her from cervical cancer!"</em></strong><br /><strong></strong><br />Finally, he consented, reluctantly.<br /><br />Because of this attitude, Bubby refuses to talk to her father about sex or boys, which is sad, because I think she really NEEDS an honest male perspective.<br /><br />So I guess it's me and....school.:(<br /><br />Last year, she was forced to take the "Abstinence" course in school, which has been proven to be a failed program. The teacher became miffed when she pressured my daughter into signing "The Commitment" form to wait until marriage.<br /><br />Bubby said<strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">..."I PLAN on waiting until marriage, but I don't know what I'll be like in five years....and I don't want to feel pressured into marriage too young, just because I want to have sex. I want to get married after college and that's an awfully long time to wait."</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">"Your whole point is that I shouldn't be pressured into doing things I'm not ready to commit to, without considering the alternatives, right? "</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">"However, I haven't heard all of the alternatives in this class, only abstinence. "</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">"So with all do respect, aren't YOU pressuring me to commit to something I'm not ready to to do, without considering all of the options?"</span></em></strong><br /><br />Being as this was done very respectfully, I supported her 100%.<br /><br />I am pleased to report that recently, her boyfriend of four months broke up with her three days after she wouldn't "put out." She was devastated because he pulled the whole <em><strong>"I'm so in love with you, I want to marry you one day, I've never met anyone like you"</strong></em>...and Bubby really needed to feel adored by a male...all little girls need to be adored by their fathers, or they look for it all their lives.<br /><br />I don't say what I'm thinking, which is, "<em><span style="color:#000066;"><strong>Yes, Bubby, he's a nice kid, but like the mom says in Parenthood...they all say that, especially as teenagers...and then they cum</strong></span>."</em><br /><br />However, if you ask her if getting him back was worth having sex with him and her response was:<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">"No, you were right; I should've taken it slow, I fell flat on my face the first time in love and now he's making a joke of me because I wouldn't go all the way after four months. " </span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">"Though this hurts like hell, I'm GLAD I didn't give it up to that prick and that I found out what he's really like, or I would've regretted it all the more!"</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em></em></strong><br />Beautiful, Bubby...I am so proud of you.... you never cease to amaze me.Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-30055527559683595942009-04-16T14:54:00.000-07:002009-04-22T10:17:21.536-07:00My Friend, The DonutIf you put the friends that I've allowed close to me (since moving here) in a room together, you'd probably scratch your head and say... "<strong>Um...and these people have WHAT in common, exactly?"</strong><br /><strong></strong><br />In fact, they'd probably ask themselves the same question...but talk to them for an hour, you'll see it. I don't care about your class, your wealth, or your education; your skin color, religion or sexual preference, or who or what you date and drive.<br /><br />If you have a sense of humor, you can can converse about a subject without getting distracted by shiny objects in the room, you can shoot straight instead of sugar-coating, and if you are virtually without hypocrisy or harsh judgment of others? You're in.:)<br /><br />If you had asked me in college if I would ever be close friends with a Southern Republican woman, I would've choked on my Ramen noodles and Milwaukee's Best and asked you to stop hitting the crack pipe (or if I had been?).<br /><br />However, either because she and I take a more moderate stance or because we find common ground on women's equality issues and anti-racism/bigotry, we seem to make it work.<br /><br />Donut's a drop-dead gorgeous woman, a former beauty queen from Arkansas, but make no mistake; her daddy was a lawyer and I often think she missed her calling. However, with her warm, hospitable demeanor and gift for diplomacy, her careers of travel agent/customer service management (as well as part-time teacher and full-time mom) are perfectly suited.<br /><br />Don't ever forget,however, you ARE dealing with a Southern woman....and nobody can put you in your place like a well-spoken Southern woman. ;)<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">There are essentially two kinds of Southern women</span>:</em> </strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>1. </strong><span style="font-size:100%;"><strong>The passive-aggressive, manipulative Southern Belles that smile in your face and call you "honey" (</strong>but pour something in your coffee later).</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><em>2. </em>The <em>"W</em></strong><em><strong>e opened up our home and world to you, but now you done pissed off a Southern gal...you'd best hide</strong>"</em> <strong>type. Colorful straight-shooters; we are akin to some African-American women in that way.</strong><br /><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc0000;">And never forget the Southern-woman rules</span>:</em> </strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>1.</strong> <strong>If we START a sentence with</strong> "H<em>oney...?</em>"... <strong>it means that you are somewhere between mildly irritating us to encroaching on</strong> "<em>you'd better run now</em>" </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>territory, depending upon our tone.<br /></strong><br />2. <strong>If we END a sentence with a</strong> "<em>honey</em>" (or it's anywhere else in the sentence than the very beginning), <strong>we are being sincerely empathetic</strong> (or phony, depending on if you are Type A or Type B Southern woman.;)<br /></span><br />Donut and I are...definitely the latter, Type B Southern gals.<br /><br />She's doesn't realize this, but she's also an gifted writer, whom I try to encourage and I hope will give us a sample....except on those occasions when she wants to write hate mail to Obama, lol.<br /><br />Donut reads the letter she wrote and says, <em><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"So</span><span style="color:#000099;"> what</span><span style="color:#000099;"> do you think, is this too inflammatory?"</span></strong><br /></em><br />I tell her it's not, but I doubt he'll read it anyway.<br /><br /><strong>"<span style="color:#000099;"><em>What if I end it with - KISS MY ROSEY RED ASS, will he read THAT? Is THAT inflammatory?" HAHAHAHA</em></span>. </strong>(Donut has the best laugh, you have to laugh with her, she thoroughly enjoys laughing.)<br /><br /><span style="color:#990000;"><strong><em>"Um? That'll probably get you sitting next to John Hinkley in a prison cell, yeah."</em></strong><br /></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>"<em>Well, I've already written my congressmen and I guess I just make myself feel better if I send it, I don't care. This shit with the mortgages and AIG is a mess and there's not any regulation to the aid they're receiving, no followup and the mortgage rules are to stringent to help anyone. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong><em>However, the site says not to send anything 'inflammatory' and no personal items such as pictures, fruit, etc."</em></strong></span><br /><br />I ask, "<span style="color:#990000;"><em><strong>Hahahaha! Fruit? And I wonder what the "etc." is? Can you imagine what some wingnuts must send? They need to have a list to specify: '</strong>Please do not send us undergarments, clean or dirty, no vegetation, badly-written poetry or Anthrax. Thank you, Your First Family<strong>.</strong></em><strong>"</strong></span><br /><br />If it hadn't been for the patient, onwavering support over the last year from My Donut, I don't know where I'd be...I probably WOULD have gone crazy.<br /><br />She's another one of those "doesn't get back as much as she gives" types, like me....not that we do it for that reason. Here's a post dedicated to her, in the hopes that she knows how much she is appreciated.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Chrys/Southern<br /></em></strong><br />Okay, taking a deep breath and....opening up the comments (moderated).<br /><br />Donut will be on later this weekend, maybe Emilio, Ruthie, Kit-Cat and some others, but quite honestly, after what happened to me, they're a little scared to do more than read; well that, and they just think blogging is stupid, lol.<br /><br />Oh, and you guys may remember my BF from Florida, Amber (uzikitty)...she'll be on eventually too...but right now she is PLANNING HER WEDDING....YAY FOR THE AMBIE!!Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-7349879898892804822009-04-13T09:58:00.001-07:002009-04-22T10:17:31.765-07:00For Ubermouth, Shelly, and Others Affected by the Fight Club: Remember Copernicus:)<strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YE0NhFcZvteAtrIms23OuUbLkLftzBi93RpH8wc92isXRSgMxyhJ9RC7o61_0ri1J7839i0kmFvmMcotpZg3Yha4toQ7NnjYnDz5t8s-0TsUyncLeB4ZuxK0ehtigYnJ3__iMPusshU6/s1600-h/225px-Nikolaus_Kopernikus.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324190985624722226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 262px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YE0NhFcZvteAtrIms23OuUbLkLftzBi93RpH8wc92isXRSgMxyhJ9RC7o61_0ri1J7839i0kmFvmMcotpZg3Yha4toQ7NnjYnDz5t8s-0TsUyncLeB4ZuxK0ehtigYnJ3__iMPusshU6/s320/225px-Nikolaus_Kopernikus.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">Dedicated to Ubermouth, Shelly, Paula, Steph, Kevin and many others (even though long gone).</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;">Before I get to the story that I hope will provide a bit of comfort, I have this last word of advice for Shelly: <strong>Don’t overthink it, honey…your first instincts were correct, as our first instincts usually are. </strong></span><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>You were right the first time; I was a whistleblower. </strong></span><div><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div></strong><span style="color:#000099;"><br />Someone named <span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;">Paula</span></em> </strong></span>tried to tell me some friends of ours considered themselves "internet hit men" that a rejected or jealous/competitive person could call upon to bully a person off the net.</span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"><br /><strong>I, too, thought she'd gone crazy and didn't believe her, dismissed it; especially the people she was claiming were involved…until one was called on ME.</strong> </span></div><span style="color:#000099;"><div><br /></span></div><span style="color:#000099;">When you saw through the original impersonations of me and posted about it publically they attacked YOU – which how they started with me. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><span style="color:#000099;">If you mention them publically, particularly their real names, they WILL attack you, gaslight you, smear campaign around that you are crazy to discredit you, impersonate you and hack into your accounts.</span><br /></span></strong><span style="color:#000099;"><br /></span><span style="color:#000099;">Long ago, the last post I put on my now deleted blog was the story of Copernicus. In fact, whenever I'd delete my blog or move url's trying to move past this shit, Brian and the Fight Club would take over the old url, often leaving a reference to this particular post....which is very telling.... ;)</span><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;">The legend of Copernicus… </span></em></strong></span></p><p><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Copernicus was often a hothead, but a brilliant scientist; a very sane, logical man. He discovered with a crude telescope (invented by Galileo) that the earth moved around the sun rather than vice versa. </strong></span></em></p><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Well, to publically say so was considered heresy at that time, by people that believed in mystical causes for events and were afraid to really take a look at how things actually were; they saw what they wanted to see, fully subscribing to the church's leaders and philosophy without question; so they scoffed at Copernicus and believed him insane.<br /></strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>As a result, Copernicus and his colleagues were brought to trial (being that there was no separation of church and state). In fact, they received death threats for their friends and family until every single one of them recanted, save Copernicus.<br /></strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Copernicus was the last to take the stand. After watching his friends and colleagues abandon him out of fear (or mob rule), he too signed the contract recanting his previous stance that the earth moved around the sun...to spare his friends and family further persecution. </strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></em><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><em><strong>Though he held the scientific evidence right in his hand, no one would listen, as it threatened the power of the church for anyone to believe anything other than was spoon-fed to them.<br /><br /></strong></em><em><strong></strong></em></span><em><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">It is rumored, however, that even as he signed the papers, he then looked down at the ground, sighed, and whispered </span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;">"…and yet, it moves…."<br /></span></strong></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>As we now know (and Kepler received initial credit for discovering), the earth does indeed move around the sun.<br /></strong></span></em><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"><span style="color:#000000;"><em>*</em><span style="font-size:100%;"><strong>Sigh</strong></span><em>*.....</em></span><em><span style="color:#000099;">And yet it moves, ladies…and it always will</span><strong>. ;)</strong></em></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I am exactly who I seem, btw, including a non-photoshopped picture, weighing in at 107 pounds.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I have a razor-sharp wit and a high IQ, but sometimes I knowingly let my compassion and my hope that people will do the right thing, outweigh that intellect. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Despite being disappointed nearly ever time, particularly here with people who develop 20 characters and act contrary to character when they feel anonymous, I cannot change that fact about myself and I won't....I'm proud of my ability to empathize with human beings, even on the net...which is why I didn't belong here.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">The only real protection we have against that sort of "evil" in this world is to resist hatred and bitterness; don't let anyone steal your joy and hope; lest we become just like them or those that call upon them. :) </span></em></strong><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">When my equipment arrives, you may see me show up from time to time, making sure things are okay for you...but I probably won't comment. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Just smile to yourselves and know that in particular, YOU, Ubermouth, made a difference in someone's life....which was originally my goal on the internet before I was attacked. As you know, I was a confidante for many people.:)</span><br /><p><strong><span style="color:#000099;">The sad thing is that I never would've blown that whistle, had they not attacked me. </span></strong></p><p><span style="color:#000099;">You are beautiful, C....and I wish, like you, that I still believed in Karma or God; but I still will not give up my integrity, my values or my empathy, even if I get hurt in the process, because it's simply the right thing to do...which seems to escape so many these days.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Carry on, darlings, and remember...NEVER STOOP to their level...you're better women than that!</span><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Chrystal Smith/Southernspeak4</em></strong><br /><br /><strong>Amber, Donna, Kit-Cat, Emilio</strong> (mentioned here previously)....I love you.:)<br /></p>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-48924680948354061632009-04-05T19:19:00.000-07:002009-04-23T06:39:01.301-07:00Emilio, My Crazy-Ass Hemi-Venezuelan Lovah ;) ;);)<br /><br />Just kiddin', ladies, he's just a really good friend.<br /><br />Thanks to you, <span style="font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"><em>Mio</em></span>, for reassuring Ubes and Shel. (<span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong><span style="color:#000000;">He attempted to post exactly one anonymous comment on Uber's blog and signed it on Saturday afternoon.)</span></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong><span style="color:#000000;"></span></strong></span><br />In your honor, I've constructed a post, which I'm writing from McK's dad's house while he's out of town. Hey, I figure that since I'm watering his plants ( and, ya know, gave birth to his offspring) the least he can do is let me use the 'puter for a few minutes.<br /><br />So I was trying to think of some really good dirt on you...erm...I mean funny anecdotes to tell, DESPITE you telling me today that my personality is exactly like Rachel on Friends (I...guess that's a compliment?).<br /><br />Even though you could discuss any subject from cartoons to Kafke, guess what sprung to mind first about you?<br /><br />You, Dean, and Chander demonstrating the proper way to do an "<span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><strong>ass check</strong></span>."<br /><br />I have no idea of how this subject came up, but I think it had something to do with Brandy and I trying to figure out how to check for a wedding ring without being too obvious, and I'm even worse at checking out asses and...elsewhere. I always get caught, then I have to act like I'm looking at the floor for some imaginary object I've dropped.<br /><br />So then the three of you proceeded to display your own signature "ass check."<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;"><strong><em>Dean </em></strong></span>(the long-lost Jonas brother) has a quick shy "<em><strong>down-and-to-the-left</strong></em>" flash approach, <strong><span style="color:#000099;"><em>Chander</em></span> </strong>does a "<strong><em>linger-for-a-moment-with-a-slight-smile-because-I-almost want-to-get-caught</em>"</strong> slide-down, and you do an all out "<strong><em>Yeah-I'm-totally-checking-out-your-ass-and-I-like-what-I-see,</em>"</strong> then look directly into your eyes.<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Emilio</span></em></strong> doesn't look AT you, though, ladies, he looks THROUGH you...he's totally got the dark brown, soulful, mysterious Zorro eye-thing goin' on.<br /><br />My fondest memory, however, is our favorite past-time; making our coworkers scratch their heads about what the hell we think is so funny. I swear to God, we could writhe and convulse on the floor in a fit of laugher and they would just step over us and go, "<strong><em>Oh them? That's just Chrystal and Emilio bein' all weird again."</em></strong><br /><br />For instance, the time that Donny Osmond, the argyle-vest-wearing weasel got on you for sales that day at Christmas (when we're already on people overload that day). I asked you what was wrong and you said you were fine, but this is how you feel about people right now....<br /><br />You proceeded to play "<strong>Let the Bodies Hit the Floor</strong>" by <em>Drowing Pool</em> at top volume on the I-phone, drowning out poor cheery-sounding Perry Como and the canned Christmas music. Donny O. yells a quizzical..."<strong><em>Emilio?"....</em></strong> and we turned around to be met by all seven coworkers and six customers, staring at us blankly and blinking twice...and I'm pretty sure I heard crickets.<br /><br />You just giggled a "hehehe" and walked away. I'm pretty sure I peed myself.<br /><br />Despite how "different" you sometimes feel, you were the favorite; nobody could wait until you arrived. People actually checked the schedule to find out and asked each other when you came in. And never forget what I told you that day you let it get you down, you thought you had an attention problem you needed to get checked because of the little slump.<br /><br />I said, "<strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Yes, you DO have a problem. Your IQ is higher than all of the people in this room put together, this job doesn't challenge you enough, you're more about quality customer service/retaining customers rather than a quick sell, and yet you think YOU have something wrong with YOU. "</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">"Nope, find something more challenging to do in your spare time to keep yourself from getting bored HERE and sometimes these people aren't going to get you...but they all love you. There, that'll be 120 bucks</span></em>."</strong><br /><br />So true, puddin'...and don't forget it on bad days...I love ya.:)<br /><br />Chrystal<br /><br />P.S. - Ask Nicole about the jeans, she'll tell you. There's something between "<strong>Hello, look at my penis</strong>" skinny jeans and your usual "<strong>See if you can tell if I even have a penis</strong>" relaxed fit, phat baggies. By the way....you passed the ass check... it defies gravity.;)<br /><br />P.S.S....If anyone has any questions about what REALLY happened and/or to verify my version of events, please call me or Dr. Mary Kelley at 859-431-3052. There's no bipolar disorder, no personality disorder - only PTSD from real-life events and then what happened here. Sorry you felt the need to project your sociopathic behavior onto me because I found out what a few of you were really up to and blew the whistle.;)Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-66585302404658671842009-01-20T15:14:00.000-08:002009-04-23T06:50:46.607-07:00It's Cool, OBie...Cincy Still Loves Ya.:)Hallllleeelllujjjah!<br /><br />Okay, okay, Obama's not the messiah....but he sure as hell feels like it, to a country so in need of hope.:)<br /><br />While at work, apparently all ....10 (?) ... Dems that work in this predominantly Catholic institution watched, lol. Even two of the priests came out to watch.<br /><br />Actually, in this part of town, where North meets South at the river, it's more like 50/50.<br /><br />Here is a transcript of my IM session with best work bud, Deb, whose office is at home (I am soon to follow):<br /><br />>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Me</strong></span>: <strong>So...Obama looked nervous, I thought he would throw up on Michelle any minute, with the world watching.</strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Deb</strong></span>: <strong>I know. I thought it was cute that he messed up his speech. Did you realize that we were forced to listen to Yo-Yo Ma for the seven minutes we were without a leader?<br /></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Me</span></strong>: <strong>I know. Bubby thought it was a rap artist she'd somehow missed. The most memorable thing about this occasion was Aretha Franklin's hat..or George Bush Sr.'s hat, wtf was THAT?<br /></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Deb</span></strong>: <strong>Oh my, that's quite a topper.</strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Me:</strong></span> <strong>Yeah, you can do things like that when you're old. "</strong><em><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Hey, I ruled the free world and have more money than God. Not only that, but I can't pee easily anymore, nor feel my legs. I don't give a shit, I'm wearing a ridiculous hat that looks like a small wolf landed on my head</strong>!"<br /></span></em><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Deb</strong></span>: <strong>Why not put an over-the-top end to that over-the-top presidency of his son's?<br /></strong><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Me:</strong></span> <strong>The whole thing was like the Oscars. "<span style="color:#cc0000;"><em><span style="color:#000099;">Best supporting actor...musical interlude...Best Actor, musical interlude</span>.</em></span> " I was waiting for Debbie Allen's dancers to come out!</strong><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Deb:</strong></span> <strong>Omg, that's hilarious. <em>"<span style="color:#cc0000;">Next up, The George Bush Dancers</span>!"</em></strong><br /><p><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Me:</span><em> </em>Bring on the dancing Georgeessssss! Nah, I saw that show already, I hated it...except when they threw the shoes. Why is Dick Cheney smiling? Why does he always have that Mona Lisa smile, like he's clearly thinking something more sinister. And what the fuck did he do, shoot himself in the foot literally this time instead of just figuratively?</strong></p><p><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Deb</strong></span>: <strong>He hurt himself moving out of the office</strong>!</p><p><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Me</strong></span>: <strong>Hahaha!</strong></p><p><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Deb</strong></span>: <strong>No seriously, he did.</strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Me:</span> OMG, I thought you were being sarcastic. I thought it was a gun wound again, lol.</strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Deb:</span> Nope....damn.</strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Me:</span> Look at Dubya, scratching his head. He and Cheney look like the organ grinder and the monkey.</strong></p><p><strong><em>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>></em></strong></p><p><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>Oh, and OB? Thanks for making us proud to be an American again, at least for 30 minutes. </strong></span></p><p><strong>And though I'm a liberal Dem, as I said a few posts below, we that call ourselves "liberals" need to be "open-minded" enough to concede on a few issues to the Pubes... or you're not as "open-minded and liberal" as you say you are...</strong></p><p><strong>It's going to take both "sides" to rebuild this thing. And the Re-Pubes are right, tho....you DID spend a bit too much, didnja, OBie?<br /></strong><br /></p>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-1205061732940712902008-11-10T07:09:00.000-08:002009-04-23T08:10:24.171-07:00Come on, America, You're Better Than This: Stop Wasting Time Finger-Pointing and Just..Fix the ProblemsWhile editing typos in the below post, I overheard a fight between a Dem and a Republican...so I'd like to leave this final encouragement. :)<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>This country has become entirely too polarized on these issues and it's clear, neither "side" has all the answers; in fact, it will take a combination of ideas from BOTH parties to find the solution</strong>. </em></span><br /></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><span style="color:#000000;">This is doing us a great disservice, and we're wasting valuable time playing the "blame-game" and pointing fingers instead of just...fixing the problems.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"><em>I've often said that the worst thing the terrorists ever did on 9/11 was shake our faith in this country and each other, dividing us...and we're helping them succeed...and a house divided against itself cannot stand.<br /></em></span><br />Though it's no secret that I'm a fairly liberal Dem, unlike a lot of liberals that claim they are tolerant (but in actuality, refuse to listen to the other side), I actually LISTEN to other viewpoints and concede/agree with Republicans on several issues; one of them being the types of government involvement we allow and how much.<br /><br />In my opinion, if we'd investigate already-existing government waste and misappropriation of tax funds, we could MORE than accommodate a (limited) health care system for the people of our country without having to raise taxes.<br /><br />And from a more liberal standpoint, to those who say they don't feel that they should have to pay for others to have healthcare at all?<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">I say that with leadership comes not only prosperity, but social responsibility. If that doesn't happen due to corporate greed, the government NEEDS to step in.</span> </strong><br /></span></em><br />Conservatives seem to have no problem financing setting up schools and healthcare for the people in Iraq...but they DO have a problem financing healthcare and schools for people in your own country? Hmm.<br /><br />So what do you say to one of the 30,000 people (and former taxpayers) who just lost their jobs with a major corporation, here in town, due to downsizing or outsourcing, then get a new long-term temporary job with half the pay and no benefits?<br /><br /><strong>"It's not our responsibility?"<br /></strong><br />Oh really? Whose responsibility is it, then, and what are these people supposed to do for healthcare at half their previous pay?<br /><br />So much for "trickle-down" economics. Did the 11-billion-dollar profit-per-quarter the oil companies (in which Bush and Cheney were heavily invested) made over the last few years trickle down on us?<br /><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong><em>So how about this, America...start listening to the validity in points made from "the other side." </em><br /><br /></strong></span><span style="color:#000000;">It doesn't have to be "either/or" or "black/white."</span><br /><em><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></em><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><em><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Can you shed the arrogance and your need to be right in order to fix what's broken?<br /></span></strong></em><br /></span>How about we work harder TOGTHER to find a plan that is PARTIALLY government subsidized/socialized healthcare? Watching the mistakes other countries have made in implementation only puts us at an advantage: We can learn from their mistakes and do our best not to repeat them.;)<br /><br />As for moral issues such as gay marriage and abortion, I'm sorry; though a (liberal) Christian (and a Theraveda Buddhist), nowhere in the bible did Jesus ever take away anyone's right to free will by law.<br /><br />In fact, if we read the same bible (and I think we did), Jesus wasn't such a fan of convention, Jewish OR Roman law. He felt these laws were being abused by the greedy hypocrites to oppress the poor and powerless classes. In fact, Jesus' biggest problem was with hypocrites and the greedy; a point that has been completely lost on Christians today.<br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#3333ff;">So if God gave us the right to free will, the right to choose his way or not...who are YOU to take it away?</span><br /></strong></em></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span><span style="color:#000099;"><strong><span style="color:#333333;">We ALL have sinned and come short of the glory of God, all of us. So worry about your own "sin" instead of trying to control by law the "sin" of other people, especially if it doesn't affect you</span><em>.</em> </strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Take the log out of your own eye and stop snap-judging others so harshly without really knowing them (from either party)...and for God's sake, show some Christ-like compassion towards one another for a change.<br /></span><br /></span><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Come on, America, you're better than this and we're wasting time. If we're ever going to heal and find a resolution to these problems, we have to:</strong></span></em><br /></span><br /></span><span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong>1. Suck it up and quit bitching (especially without offering an alternative solution).</strong><br /><br /><strong>2. Stop playing the blame game/pointing fingers, it doesn't matter now.</strong><br /><br /><strong>3. Take responsibility for mistakes BOTH PARTIES made, as well as allowing certain members of both parties to be held accountable for unethical behavior.</strong><br /><br /><strong>4. Start listening to other points of view than our own.</strong><br /></span><p><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">5. Roll up our sleeves, work together, and just..FIX IT...Jaysoos.:)</span></strong></p><p><strong><em>Southernspeak4</em></strong></p>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-8049649639277852832008-11-02T12:51:00.001-08:002009-04-23T06:47:33.840-07:00Epilogue: My 40th Birthday/First Tat: Vote Ladies! The Iron-Jawed Angel"So, um, I'm turning 40...sigh.;) Hehehe, actually, I'm really happy about it, I'm just now hitting my stride in life... and I don't look so bad for my age...Cougar and all that I am...grrrrrrawwrrrrrr.<br /><br />Kiiidddddinnnng. Though I have no shortage of younger men interested, I'm... not exactly cougar material.:)<br /><br />So I've been asking everyone what to do for my 40th birthday in December. A small suare or a big bash on a Cincy riverboat cruise? Some said I should skydive/jump out of a plane; others said I should bungee-jump off of a bridge, adrenaline rush?<br /><br />Um...I'm pretty sure the point is that I made it to 40 without anything catastrophic happening to me (wellll...um, that's debatable, lol, but I survived)...so...why would I want to tempt fate, lol?<br /><br />I decided to have a small get-together with closer friends, some of whom (the brave ones) are going to a tat parlor to get my first and only tat and their own piercings/tats, then get liquored up and bar-hop around Cincy in a limo with a sunroof...and then we shall randomly sex up whomever we choose and as many people as we choose, indiscriminately.<br /><br />Okay, I made the last part up? Hehehe.<br /><br /><strong>So what is the tattoo, you say</strong>?<br /><br />After seeing the HBO movie "<strong><em><span style="color:#cc0000;">Iron</span>-<span style="color:#000099;">Jawed</span> Angels</em></strong>," my friends and I decided that a conceptualized tattoo of this was a perfect representation of me. I've been looking at local artists to try to find someone who can conceptualize it before my birthday; so far, no luck. I may get the tat AFTER my birthday because I will wait to find someone who "gets it." If you haven't seen the movie, watch it and you'll get it.<br /><br /><em>"<strong>Iron-Jawed Angels"</strong> tells the story of Alice Paul, who, after Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony, gave the final push for the 19th amendment to the constitution; the right for women to vote and have a voice. </em><em>These little itty-bitty women, barely 5 feet tall, standing outside the White House, holding banners with determined jaws, were likened by journalists to "<strong>Iron-Jawed Angels</strong>."<br /><br />Before the amendment, meeting resistance from men AND women (who seemed to care more about their own political power than their cause), Alice Paul stood outside the White House and read President Wilson's own words regarding freedom and raising our voices, stirring up support for World War I.<br /><br />Alice reads Wilson's words and loudly exclaims, "<strong>Freedom and raising our voices? I guess not if you're a woman</strong>..." and tears up his written words, throwing them into the fire.<br /><br />Men began yelling and grabbing at the women and their banners, pummeling them to the ground, telling them to go home to their children, they were unpatriotic...and the women fought back.<br /><br /></em><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>The result was the little posse of iron-jawed angels, peaceably assembling in front of the White House, were carted off to prison on charges of "obstructing traffic" and inciting a riot, lol. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#000000;">The men received no charges at all.<br /></span></strong><br /><em>What a surprise. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>When Alice breaks a window for fresh air for the prisoners and begins a hunger strike for their cause, she is sent to the insane asylum in solitary confinement. </em><em>Word leaks out to the press that Alice has led the women in a hunger strike there and that the staff began brutally force-feeding her, so a</em><em> male psychiatrist evaluates her. The result is she is cleared, the force-feeding stops, and he releases this statement regarding her:</em><br /><br />"<span style="color:#000000;"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong><em>In women, courage is often mistaken for insanity." </em></strong></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">The result is a public outcry, the women are released, Wilson does a 180, and the amendment is finally passed.:) </span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">Why is it when Gandhi led a hunger strike to have a voice in government in his own country, he's a hero...but when Alice Paul does the same thing three years later, she's crazy? Nobody force-fed Gandhi. I'll tellyou why...because unfortunately in our society, in men, passion + frustration + bravery make a hero...but in women, passion + frustration + bravery are equated with insanity.</span><br /><br />Things haven't changed much, except that women have learned to play this card to discredit and silence other women; however, the "gaslighting" card is misogynistic historically<strong>...men have always played the insanity card to discredit and silence women.;)</strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">Where will the tat be? </span></strong>Between my hoo ha and my right hipbone, lol.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Why this tattoo?</span> </strong>For memory's sake...because I don't fight causes or even stand up for anything anymore, I've had my share and failed miserably.<br /><br />I finally realized that especially on the net, it really doesn't matter if you're telling 100% trut<strong>h, </strong>how much factual evidence/proof you present, or how many loopholes you can find in the other's story/argument or logic, and it doesn't matter how calm you are..<strong><span style="color:#000000;">people will believe what they want to believe, especially on the net</span>...</strong><strong><span style="color:#000000;">the one with the penis always wins, internet OR real life </span>(<em>or the phoniest person/best pathological liar, male or female</em>)</strong>.<br /><br />Otherwise, I don't even try to write at all anymore...but at one time, I did...lol...I sure as hell DID finally stand up for MYSELF instead of just defending other people...a few times in life now...and the iron-jawed angel will be there to mark it on my 40th birthday....nobody knowing she's there but me...and those whom I choose to show it too.;)<br /><br /><span style="color:#993399;"><em><strong>"</strong></em><span style="color:#000099;"><em><strong>Chrys" or Chrystal Smith/Southernspeak4...</strong></em><span style="color:#000000;">Iron-Jawed Angel of Blogger<strong>.;)</strong></span><strong><br /></strong></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><em>P.S. Election 2008:</em></strong> See "Iron-Jawed Angels" and VOTE, ladies...what those women endured for the right for YOU to have a voice! </span><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#cc0000;">I personally will vote this Tuesday against any political party that has consistently played on our worst national fear of terrorism by using fear tactics and smear campaigns to start wars and/or win elections. </span></strong><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color:#6600cc;"><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>"Obama: The change we need."</strong></span> </span><span style="color:#000099;"><em>I'm counting on it. Make us proud to be an American again...and for a change.</em></span><br /></span><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">Chrys or Chrystal Smith/Southernspeak4</span></em></strong>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-11640227992086865842008-10-27T12:34:00.000-07:002009-04-23T07:57:57.663-07:00Witch Hunt: Salem 1692 and 2006-2008 on BloggerThis morning, I watched the movie "<strong><em>The Crucible</em></strong>" with Daniel-Day Lewis, Joan Allen, and Winona Ryder. The movie is based on the critically-acclaimed (and historically accurate) play by Arthur Miller, which chronicles the Salem Witch Trials in 1692, and from where we derive the term "witch hunt."<br /><br /><strong>A shameful time in American history, the end result was that 19 innocent people were hanged for "sinful" acts that their accusers were actually guilty of dabbling in, desperately trying to throw suspicion off themselves...as well as jealousy of the wives of some of the townsmen. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>There was absolutely no legitimate or credible proof other than the attention-seeking hysterics, bad-acting, and the word-twisting smear-campaign of the girls involved, along with clearly fabricated evidence and the bullied-into emotional reactions of the victims. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>As a result of this proofless "witch hunt," our justice system changed and this sort of thing never happened in America again; however, it DID happen to me (and several other people) in the lawless state that exists on the internet, beginning in 2006. </strong><br /><br />For me, this movie/play brought back with shocking clarity and familiarity the events which happened on Blogger from January 2006 to March of 2008.<br /><br />In the end, there were at least 13 people, predominantly women, victimized...six of whom I spoke with personally shortly before leaving... <span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>all complaining of similar events...and all of whom were curiously holding the the same small group of IP addresses responsible.</strong> </span><br /><br />Being as my right-clicked picture attached to fake blogs, yahoo emails, and other accounts/information were now being used to harass other people ( and after a final email warned me to stop blogging) ...<strong>I permanently left Blogger on March 28, 2008, to spare others further harassment. </strong>I have not touched this blog or email since that day until now.<br /><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="color:#cc0000;">The third email I had received in this manner since November 2005, this last email was sent by my own account, to myself...only I didn't send it.</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"></span></strong></em><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong><em>The email was confirmed by an IT professional to contain a trojan virus/spyware...the calling card of a hacker.</em></strong><br /></span><br /><strong><em>No one would listen or believe me, and how could I prove it WASN'T me doing it? </em></strong><br /><br />It was much like those viruses in the 90s that sent themselves to everyone in your address book that contained porn and you couldn't convince people that you didn't send them, lol...even IT people (often arrogant, God-complex types of people, lol) said it wasn't possible back then....and now we know that not only was it possible...but it became commonplace.<br /><br /><strong>No matter how safe it may feel in the comfort of your own home, the net is THAT dangerous. You reject/block the wrong person or blogging pod and they'll sick a bunch of trolls on you to smear campaign you off, lol. Wow, how desperate some are to hold onto their fantasy lives/false versions of who they are and their 15 minutes of fame...and the internet is the closest some will ever get to fame or an audience, isn't it? </strong><br /><br />It still amazes me how easily people are fooled and how susceptible they are to the power of suggestion, especially on the internet. Granted, the public at large IS stupid; however, in their defense, those responsible went to sociopathic levels to smear campaign me, afraid I'd tell a few secrets.<br /><br />How? By right-clicking on my picture and attaching it to fake blogs and commenting crazy shit on other people's blogs, leaving bashing comments right behind me anywhere I'd post, using the FAKE blog with my picture to comment right behind me to create confusion, altering legitimate emails before forwarding them to others, signing my misspelled name to yahoo accounts that I didn't even possess, and finally hacking into my real email and blog accounts.<br /><br />You...wanted to know. Sorry it sounds crazy, but...truth is stranger than fiction.<br /><br />It amazes me that even though we all know the dangers on the internet...though we KNOW it's a haven for the unhealthy, hanging out here to avoid who they are in real life/real relationships...though we've read the news that the yahoo emails of someone as well protected as Sarah Palin can be hacked...we still like to believe we're safe because we're sitting in the comfort of our own homes or work.<br /><br />Worse, when it DOES happen, we STILL blame the victim that he or she must've deserved it...as if anyone deserves that.<br /><br /><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>My cyberstalking/cyberbullying was begun the same as in all cases of known and proven cases of cyberstalking...by a man who has now been found to hang out at support groups of vulnerable women (and met his wife this way)...and whose advances I had politely spurned online for years...and whom </strong></span><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>I finally blocked him after seven requests for naked photos, unequivocally and finally rejecting him in no uncertain terms. </strong></span><br /><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">He began contacting everyone from my blog with a false story that I had "borderline personality disorder" and had stalked HIM...which catapulted into an hysterical witch hunt. Suddenly, every little thing I did became some "symptom" of a diagnosis I didn't even have, lol.<br /></span><br />He specifically targeted three women who were self-admittedly neurotic/mentally ill and who I had been the confidante of, two of whom were admittedly repeatedly jealous of the attention I was receiving on my blog that they felt they were more deserving of...and more importantly, all of whom I'd blocked after confronting them on private issues after they began to affect me adversely.<br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>The rejected man teamed up with the three women and called upon known "net trolls" or an online fight club (that I was once asked to join and refused) to bully me off blogger, and everyone believed it without any proof...so they CREATED proof to justify it.;)</strong></span><br /><br />The Fight Club admitted there was no proof and didn't care....they just used the blog gossip to justify bullying people...<strong>much like a sociopath throwing a rock off of an overpass onto a freeway, they love to create chaos and finger-pointing fights, then stand back and watch the wreck, laughing.</strong><br /><br />In the end, those who made the initial accusations still refuse to show any remorse for their actions, refused to take any responsibility for the mass hysteria/chaos they created or that they altered emails, word-twisted and lied... even fabricated evidence completely.<br /><br />They continued to shift blame and at the very most, blamed others for "influencing" their choices.<br /><br />They finally claimed that the problem was a disagreement and a "matter of perspective" that I refused to listen to them.<br /><br />Being I was their one-time confidante, they blamed my private confrontation of their very severe emotional issues to justify their behavior.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">Ya know, it's interesting that any of you passive-aggressives that attacked me instead of trying to discuss things with me say that it's ME that wouldn't listen to YOU...</span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">....because not a single one of you even TRIED to tell me directly, email OR blog, until AFTER I was attacked. </span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /></strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>It was amazing how many people hopped onto the angry mob with a story, many of you I'd defended when attacked or bullied yourselves.<br /></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>In fact, not even then. If I showed up even once to find out what the hell was going on, the who's and why's...the lot of you started screaming "stalker" and threatened to shut your blogs down or started posting with the fake ID of me to create confusion.<br /></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#990000;"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>So no, this situation is NOT a matter of perspective....this was truth vs. lies</strong>..</span>.</span><span style="color:#000000;">and there is no justification for your treatment of another human being like that under any circumstances...none. </span><br /><br />In Salem, to this day, the epitaphs of the victims remain in the cemetary where their bodies were literally discarded...their last words proclaiming their innocence.<br /><br />One reads: "<span style="color:#000066;"><em><strong>God have mercy on me, I am wholly innocent of this wickedness..." </strong></em><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong><em>I still maintain my innocence and that I did nothing more than be your confidante and then confront a few of you, but only when your emotional problems began to affect ME adversely, repeatedly</em>.</strong><br /></span><br />In the crucible, as the victims prepared to hang, the last words they uttered were these, the Lord's prayer in unison...<br /><br /><span style="color:#333399;"><span style="color:#993399;"><strong><em>Our father who art in heaven...</em></strong><br /><strong><em>Hallowed be thy name. </em></strong><br /><strong><em>Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven. </em></strong><br /><strong><em>Give us this day our daily bread, </em></strong><br /><strong><em>Forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who have trespassed against us. </em></strong><br /><strong><em>Lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil. </em></strong><br /></span><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;">For thine is the kingdom,and the power, and the glory...forever and ever...amen."</span> </em></strong><br /></span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong><em>I forgive you... </em></strong><br /></span><br />Chrystal Smith/Southernspeak4<br /><br /><strong>As for your claims of my mental illness, it can and always could be proven in a court of law that you are lying, as well as that I possess no other mental illness than a trauma reaction based on events in real life, verified by a psychologist with 31 years of experience, Yale graduate.</strong><br /><br />As for me, I have faith that they WILL be brought to justice, face the actual facts, and I WILL be vindicated. Thanks.:)Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-44044798609620845072008-03-08T07:25:00.000-08:002009-04-23T07:21:05.428-07:00Stuck in the Snow and Bush is "Waterboarding"...I'm just stuck inside during a snowstorm and thought I'd write a snippet to mark my six-month anniversary today of moving here.<br /><br />I'm looking out my big picture window and McKenna's tromping around in snow up to her knees, laughing about it, the little goofball, lol.<br /><br />Would someone please remind God to hit the spring button? While you're at it, ask him to do something about Dubya.<br /><br />So I'm looking at <strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Little Bush</span></strong> on the news this morning, getting ready to VETO the "CIA Bill"...a bill which would legally ban inhumane interrogation methods by the miliary and CIA, such as "<span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>waterboarding.</strong></span>"<br /><br />Even his new best friend, Senator John McCain, has gone on record stating "<strong><em>waterboarding is pure torture</em></strong>." But we should know by now, Little Bush is determined...right or wrong, nobody messes with Little Bush while he's determined, lol.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>FYI:</strong></span> "<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>Waterboarding</strong></span>"<em> </em>is the military tactic of using "simulated drowning" to gain information from a terrorist suspect<strong>.</strong><br /></span><br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Um...would someone please explain what separates us from actual terrorists if we legally justify torturing other human beings under any circumstances?<br /></span></strong><br />What happens if a suspect is "waterboarded" and it's determined that they really don't know anything? Do they just go<span style="font-size:130%;"><em>.."<span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>Oh, whups, dude, you're innocent....my bad....sorry I tortured you for no reason</strong></span></em><strong>."</strong></span><br /><br />Well, since you're already such a big fan of waterboarding<strong>, <span style="color:#ff0000;">Little Bush</span>,</strong> perhaps someone should waterboard YOU. I'm sure we'd gain a lot of useful information, and at least our time spent doing so wouldn't be a complete sham and an exercise in futility...you know, like your entire time spent in office and the Iraqi War.<br /><p>As a interesting aside about Little Bush, I have to tell you that the psychologist treating me for PTSD attended <span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Yale</strong></span> with <span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>Dubya;</strong></span> her brother-in-law is still personal friends with him. She says that if you had told her then that he would be president one day, she would've told you to quit hittin' acid and laughed her ass off at the very thought. </p><p><span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>BUT...the good news is, <span style="color:#ff0000;">Hillary</span> took Ohio....wahooooo!:)</strong></span><br /><br /><strong>Come on, election 2008</strong>....I really don't care if it's Hillary OR Obama; in fact, having one with the other as their running mate would be the dynamic duo...whatever, just...oust out of power that embarrassment to American history AND his little croanies, get a national healthcare system in place without breaking our bank (I like Obama's limited healthcare system better), and take control of OUT-of-control corporate greed...i.e...gas prices and pharmaceuticals run amuck. In short, just..."<strong>get 'er done</strong>."<br /><br />I...really hate that expression, but in this case it's actually appropriate.<br /><br />Thank you, that is all.<br /><br /></p>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-71827198725569906032008-02-15T16:30:00.000-08:002009-04-23T07:46:47.013-07:00My Valentine's Day Lovers....;)Which do not include a date, but DO include a flamboyantly gay man, Bubby, Bubby's dad, and some good girlfriends.;)
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<br />All right, let's get THIS out of the way first. I promised I'd post this video for my "Will" because he's more of a woman than I ever thought of being. His sweety is in Boston and has to work.
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<br />Happy Valentine's Day, honey. :) However, I refuse to autoplay it; I'll just post it at the bottom and you can play it yourself, lol.
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<br />Okay, okay, I admit it;<strong><em><span style="color:#3366ff;">The Prayer/La Preghiera</span></em></strong> really IS a beautiful song, particularly the end is chill-giving, though it isn't the best recording....and it IS full of cheese.
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<br />For me, Valentine's this year ended up being unexpectedly one of the best I've ever had, but not for the usual reasons. I worked both jobs yesterday and had no date, BUT....I received more cards, candy, flowers, and hugs than I could ever want, everyone was in a great mood, nobody really got any work done...probably because of the chocolate.
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<br />You DO realize, chocolate produces the same neurochemical in your brain that makes you feel as though you're falling in love. Who needs love when you have an endless supply of free chocolate?
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<br />Not that I didn't have any men interested...the usual freak-magnet set. For instance, here's the line of one guy I waited on...
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<br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">Me:</span></strong> "<strong>So how is everything, anything else I can get for you</strong>?"
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<br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">Mr. Overly Practiced and Smooth</span></strong>: "<span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>Just your phone number, and we're perrrrfect</strong></span>."
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<br />Groan. Retch.
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<br />Then there was a guy alone, seemingly normal at first, but they always are. He had no wedding ring and admittedly had no kids, but said that he loved kids and wanted to have them one day...THEN he pulled out his credit card...<strong>WHICH CURIOUSLY HAD ALL OF THE DISNEY CHARACTERS ON IT.</strong>
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<br />What the....????
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<br />He said he just loved all things Disney; he was obsessed with Disney characters<strong>.</strong>
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<br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;">Either he's lying or he's just freakin'...weird.</span><em> </em></span>
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<br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">That sort of thing is enough to make a woman do a permanent Kegel even the jaws of life couldn't open.
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<br />For whatever reason, my adopted "little sister," Brea, decided I needed two straws with hearts on the end of them in my pulled-back hair, so that I ended up looking like a geisha. Will said I looked more like Sacajewea and I needed more bling, so everyone decorated them throughout the evening with metallic candy wrappers. It still wasn't fab ENOUGH, however, for Will.
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<br /><strong>"<em><span style="color:#cc0000;">Hey, Sacajewea...Lewis and Clark went that way. They said for you to lose the hair straws before they'd hang out with you again</span></em></strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">."
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<br />"<span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong><em><span style="color:#3333ff;">No, Will-son, IIIIII am to become geeiisha...I dance for </span><span style="color:#3333ff;">you</span></em></strong></span><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">"</span></strong> </span><span style="color:#666666;">and proceeded to bow and do some bizarre version of Sayuri's "<strong><em>Memoirs of a Geisha</em>"</strong> snow dance</span>.
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<br />Will just...walked away, lol.
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<br />Hey, I had my mojo working, but it "just don't work on Will." I'm SURE it's because he's gay and of course not because of my enticing dance.;)
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<br />Two seconds later, he's back, laughing, hugging me, and saying, "<strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">You are not allowed to quit working here, ever, without my permission and until I quit...I love </span><span style="color:#cc0000;">you</span></strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">."</span>
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<br />Right back atcha, Will...mwahh. Chai Raspberry next time?
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<br />Love,
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<br />Grace
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<br />P.S...Bubby has a date to the V-Day dance tonight, wish her luck. He's a pretty good boy boy, I have to admit.:)</strong>
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<br />CHEESE VIDEO: I remember watching this performance at the Grammy's, they brought down the house. Some people sound crappy live, but they were in perfect harmony, perfect pitch; it really was a "legendary performance," as trite as that phrase is.
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<br /><embed src="http://media.imeem.com/v/SqO8wI1jji/aus=" width="400" height="325" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pv="2" allowfullscreen="true"></embed>
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<br />Chrystal Smith/Southernspeak4
<br />Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-70110344512998137152008-02-10T10:02:00.000-08:002009-04-23T06:59:04.672-07:00More Restaurant Stories...From my weekend job...<br /><br />I swear to God, I'm often tempted to just pull up a chair with some popcorn and watch the kitchen staff, especially when Sally is the window manager. She is normally the service manager, but they alternate to break the monotony.<br /><br />She is hands down, one of the funniest women I think I've ever met. Making her even more interesting is that she's a sincerely good person, instead of using her wit as a weapon over other people unless she has to. (For a good Sally story, read a few posts down.)<br /><br />She has a knack for motivating people...okay, perhaps blatantly threatening people...to get things done, lol.<br /><br />Last night, we didn't have a food runner, so it was a bit chaotic, but when ISN'T the restaurant business chaotic?<br /><br />Every two minutes, she'd scream...."<strong>I need runners...RUNNERS ALL DAYYYY!!!! HOT food, people, out of my window NOW....don't make me punch you in the head, I'm serious...oh, how I'm serious....oh, I'll hurtcha...HURT..CHA!</strong>"<br /><br />Then she turns towards the side, despite no one being there at all, and does some kinda weird ninja move that looks more like tai chi gone horribly awry.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">ME</span></strong>: "<span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>Sally, I WILL run food for you, despite that.... weird karate kid move you did, just now</strong></span>."<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Sally</span></strong>: "<strong>JP, Chrystal just said she never wanted to see my ninja moves, ever again, do YOU like them</strong>?"<br /><br />JP rolled his eyes and walked away.<br /><br />JP is our singing cook. He has no shyness problem whatsover. He will sing any song, any time, and people in the back of the restaurant can hear every word he's singing and saying. In fact, many regulars ASK to sit in the back so they can listen to JP's songs and general improv. However, don't ask JP for requests...he sings whatever he feels like singing...or not at all. You...don't want JP in a bad mood, trust me.<br /><br />Last night was apparently some sort of 80's Rewind Night, because I swear to God, I think I heard every song played at my prom. Sam often chimes in on duets and back-ups, and their particular favorite last night, heard at least five times, was <span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong>The Proclaimers</strong></span> "<em><span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong>I'm Gonna Be</strong></span></em>, " complete with thick Scottish brogue. Check the video...Bubby's gonna flip when she gets home because, of course... Johnny's in it, hehehe.<br /><br />(JP's solo): "<strong><em>When I wake UP, yeah, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man whooh wakes up next to youah.</em></strong><br /><strong><em></em></strong><br /><strong><em>"When I goh oUWWT, yeah I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who goes along with youahh</em></strong>"<br /><br /><style>.cink{font-size:10px;font-family:tahoma;color:a9a9a9;font-weight:normal;text-decoration:none;}</style><br /><br /><br /><div id="vid1" style="FONT: 13px tahoma; WIDTH: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://www.videocure.com/music-video-code/p/419bc96ed0190d3de432189d0226a920.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size:100%;">I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) Video</span></a></div><br /><br /><br /><div id="lyrics" style="FONT: 10px tahoma; WIDTH: 320px; COLOR: #a9a9a9; BACKGROUND-COLOR: #000000; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a class="cink" href="http://www.elyrics.net/read/p/proclaimers-lyrics/i_m-gonna-be-(500-miles)-lyrics.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size:100%;">I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) lyrics</span></a><span style="font-size:100%;"> - </span><a class="cink" href="http://www.elyrics.net/song/p/proclaimers-lyrics.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size:100%;">Proclaimers lyrics</span></a></div><br /><br /><br /><object style="FILTER: progid:DXImageTransform.Microsoft.BasicImage(Grayscale=1)" type="application/x-mplayer2" height="280" width="320" classid="CLSID:22D6F312-B0F6-11D0-94AB-0080C74C7E95"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <embed name="'MediaPlayer'" type="'application/x-mplayer2'" autostart="'0'" loop="'0'" style="'filter:progid:DXImageTransform.Microsoft.BasicImage(Grayscale=" displaysize="'4'" pluginspage="'http://www.microsoft.com/windows/mediaplayer/en/download/'" showtracker="'1'" showcontrols="'1'" showstatusbar="'0'" width="'320'" height="'280'" enablecontextmenu="'0'" src="'http://www.videocure.com/music-video-code/p/a71f3b1121954c4e6656575152c97773.asx'"></embed><br /> </object><br /><br /><br /><div id="vidcure" style="WIDTH: 320px; BACKGROUND-COLOR: #000000; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a class="cink" href="http://www.videocure.com/music-videos/p/b692d2dca388ddfb00a884b25b40ab20.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size:100%;">Proclaimers Music Videos</span></a></div><br /><br /><br /><div id="vidcure1" style="WIDTH: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="font-family:Tahoma;"><a href="http://www.videocure.com/" target="_blank">Music Video Codes</a> by VideoCure</span></div><br /><br /><img style="VISIBILITY: hidden; WIDTH: 0px; HEIGHT: 0px" height="0" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/Jmx*PTEyMDMzNjEzMDc2NDAmcHQ9MTIwMzM2MTMxMTI4MSZwPTUzNTQxJmQ9Jm49.jpg" width="0" border="0" /><br /><br /><br />This sort of thing makes JP one of the most entertaining people I've ever met. He's getting his Master's degree in European history, and he's just applied to Oxford for his PhD...making him also one of the smartest people I've ever met.<br /><br />The problem is, unlike Sally...he knows it.<br /><br />He and New Hot Bar Manager got into a intellectual pissing contest through the window the other night, like Alpha males often do. I've...actually begun to take an active dislike to New Hot Bar Manager, as have most people. So their slight sparring competition went like this:<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6666;">JP</span></strong>: <strong>"Yeah, I'm working in a restaurant next to you, despite graduating Magna cum Laude for FUN, assholes."</strong><br /></span><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#ff6666;">Hot Bar Manager</span></strong>: "<span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>Hey, a college degree isn't everything...look at me, I graduated with honors too, and I'm now a lofty bar manager</strong></span>."<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">JP</span>: "Oh yeah? I'll be sure and remember that about you and everyone else here, when I'm at Oxford next year."</strong><br /><br />Which was overly shitty and sounded a bit superior. HNBM's face is turning bright red, now...he's...mad and trying NOT to go apeshit, like he usually does.<br /></span><br />So despite my dislike for Hot New Bar Manager (and if given the choice, would choose JP over him for company any day), I decided that he had taken things too far; things were tense... so I decided to pop a pin in the overly large ego of JP, for the moment...hehehe.<br /><br />"<span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>Really, JP, that's awesome....so...you've been accepted, then</strong></span>?"<br /></span><br />Everyone stops what they're doing, it's dead silent, lol. I'm wiping down counters casually, with my back to him. They slyly smile and look from me over to JP.<br /><br />"<strong>Well..not yet, but I'm sure I will be, with my GPA and history</strong>."<br /><br />Bar Manager looks at me and winks. I have on my innocent poker face, which I actually have a hard time doing, usually. Hehehe...ain't I a stinkah?<br /><br />I decided to smooth it over with him too, so he knows it's just a brief humbling session for him, but I really do think it's cool.<br /><br /><br /><p>"<span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>Well, when you go... will you at least take me with you</strong></span>?" </p><p>"<strong>Okay, I will</strong>." </p>He's always really polite with me, I'm not sure what that's about. This is a good thing because I'd never want to get into a verbal tete-a-tete with JP, he'd... kick my ass.<br /><br />However, later, he's mouthing loudly about how 90% of the people working there are idiots. He reminds me, loudly, that I have not put an upcharge on adding bacon at least three times tonight.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff6666;"><strong>Me</strong></span>: "<span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>Thanks for reminding me, JP...I'm sorry</strong></span>."<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>JP</strong></span>: "<strong>No seriously, you need to do that</strong>."<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Me</strong></span>: "<span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>Okay, you're right, I'm sorry...thanks</strong></span>."<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>JP</strong></span>: "<strong>Upchargggeee on bacon</strong>."<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Me</strong></span>: "<span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>JP...I GOT dis, thanks</strong></span>."<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>JP</strong></span>: "<strong>It really bugs me for you guys to be asking for stuff and then not ring it in later</strong>."<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff6666;"><strong>Me</strong></span>: (loudly now): "<span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>Yes, I can tell...once again, I'm sorry...and </strong></span><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>THANK you, JP...for showing me the err of my ways. </strong></span><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>I can honestly say that I am now a better person, because of you....thank you, from the bottom of my heart</strong></span>."<br /><br />Bar Manager spits out his sweet tea and everyone is laughing.<br /><br />JP raises and eyebrow at me and says, "<strong>You're...welcome</strong>."<br /><br />What could he say? Probably a lot, but he didn't...thank God.<br /></span><br />That man could shred me verbally within seconds. I could put up a good fight for a little while, but I'd go down in the second round, I'm pretty sure of it.<br /><br />Otherwise, it was mostly an uneventful evening of truckloads of rednecks coming in from the outlying areas, having just received their tax refund checks; coming into to the big city to eat steak and Miller Lite drafts or Beam and coke and tip us approximately 8.6 percent....so thank God for some of the people I work with for the entertainment, or the evening would've been a total loss.<br /><br />Chrystal Smith/Southernspeak4Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-42090990947135826792008-02-08T08:05:00.000-08:002009-04-23T06:59:59.716-07:00Bubby and Bob Dole? ;) Why My Daughter Rocks The Universe...I just have to give props to my daughter, McKenna, this morning, for being the complete goofball she is and making me laugh...every single day. :)<br /><br />While taking her to school this morning, she told me this story about her, her dad, and her dad's new car. For those non-real-life readers, McKenna's father is Zack, who is NOT the ex-husband I've mentioned; Zack and I never married. We're very good friends, but we're too...different to ever get married.<br /><br />Now don't get me wrong, I love the man dearly; he's very funny and does little voices, laughs easily at everything...but...um... he just doesn't do "silly" or "absurd" very well.<br /><br />For instance, she called him after watching MadTV at my house the other day, contorted her face, and said in a perfect "Antonia" lispy voice: <strong>"Hello. I have a cat named CC."</strong><br /><br />Her father said, <span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>"Really, McKenna. Did you fall unconscious recently</strong></span>?"<br /><br />Here's the real antonia, so you can get the idea.<br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tedUQP-YO6Y&rel=" width="425" height="355" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"></embed><br /><br />Anyway, her dad just bought a new BMW because he is always Mr. Stereotypical Blue-Blazered/khaki-pants-ed Republican, always about "status." I laugh at him on a regular basis for it. The only indication that he has a wild streak anymore is the left scap (shoulderblade) tattoo of a cloud and a lightning bolt with his fraternity letters on it, which I initially thought was an ice cream cone.<br /><br />He bought this car in black, for some reason.<br /><br />So McK decides to mess with him a little, and apparently she says to him, "<strong>Hey Dad...are you in the mafia? All my friends think you are because of your car. Dad... fess up, are you? "</strong><br /><br />"<span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong>No, McKenna, I'm not in the mafia. Are you serious? DO people really think that???"</strong></span><br /><br />"<strong>Yep, dad, they do. In fact, everyone calls you <span style="color:#ff0000;"><em><span style="color:#666666;">'</span></em>Fat Tony</span>."</strong><br /><br />"<span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong>Wh-a-a? I'm...not fat."</strong></span><br /><br />"<strong>DAD...I'm J-O-K-I-N-G."</strong><br /><br />"<strong><span style="color:#6666cc;">OHHH...hehehe</span></strong>."<br /><br />I don't know WHERE she gets that mischievous sense of humor, do you?;)<br /><br /><strong>And ohhhhmigod, people, guess what? We've just finished her HIGH SCHOOL schedule for next year.<br /><br /></strong><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>BUBBY WILL BE A FRESHMAN!!!<br /></strong></span><br />AAAAAKK! I'm pretty sure it was just yesterday I was holding her in "feety pajamas," pretending to chew on those chubby little toes to make her giggle.<br /></span><br />Wasn't it just the other day that I had to chase her around the public pool, with her giggling like a-madwoman all the while, because she had completely disrobed from her Barbie bathing suit?<br /><br />Wasn't it just last week that she and my former stepson shot my tampons as rockets into the toilet to watch them expand, leaving them there when my brother-in-law visited for the first time? (Luckily, I found this experiment in time.)<br /><br />Now she will have completed high-school algebra and will be in Geometry already, as well as in Honors English and Honors Biology. Where did the time go?<br /><br />I also laugh when I remember how bright we found out she was at such an early an age. Well, I guess we already knew, because she started talking at six months.<br /></span><br />But about a year later, she began some bizarre fascination with Bob Dole that still defies explanation. I found THAT disturbing on so many levels, I can't tell you...I was horrified, lol.<br /></span><br />You know what? I'm blaming her father.;)<br /><br />Every time Bob came on the news, she was mesmerized. I seriously waved my hand in front of her face, but she was not to be deterred. She would wander around holding a newspaper with his picture on the front, it was just plain scary.<br /><br />I was talking to her dad on the phone during a visit with him and told him to test her because he didn't believe me that she knew who he was and his name. So while on the phone with me, he pointed to a pic of Bob Dole in the paper and said, "<span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong>McKenna...who is that</strong>?"</span><span style="color:#6666cc;"><br /></span><br />"<strong>Das BobDole</strong>."<br /><br />His name was one word to her, <strong>bobdole</strong>.<br /><br /></span>"<span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong>Heeyyyyy! That's right, honey, that's Bob Dole!!! All right! Who you gonna vote for?</strong></span>"<br /><br />"<strong>Bobdole</strong>."<br /><br /><strong>ME</strong>: "<span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><span style="color:#ff6666;">All right, now, that's enough, Repubic-man. Don't make me come over there and do a Dem Intervention</span>.</span>"</strong></span><br /><br />"<span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong>Hehehe.</strong></span> <span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong>Hey</strong></span> <strong><span style="color:#6666cc;">Chrys?"</span></strong><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#6666cc;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6666;">"Yeah?"</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#6666cc;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#6666cc;">"Our daughter is a genius</span></strong>."<br /><br />"<strong><span style="color:#ff6666;">I know, duh</span></strong>."<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">For years, for Christmases after that, her Auntie Kim and Uncle Matt gave her one Christmas gift that said, "<strong><em><span style="color:#ff6666;">To McKenna...love, Bob Dole</span></em></strong>" for our amusement. I think she really thought he was some eccentric uncle she'd never met that gave her treats at Christmas.<br /><br />She doesn't believe me now that these things ever happened and flat out refuses to admit it, but I remind her that, guess what? We have video.<br /><br />Gifted kids are weird, sometimes, what can I say. But everyone should have a Bubby, you should get one...except you can't have mine...I'm holding onto her a little while longer.:)</span> </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><p></p></span>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-82199070463399688502008-02-06T14:18:00.000-08:002009-04-23T07:03:18.012-07:00It's Lent/Ash Wednesday. Argh.So I'm talking to my sister, Ruthie, today, trying to decide what I'm going to give up for Lent before Ash Wednesday service tonight, when I will get all ash-headed and reverent.
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<br />She has already decided to give up chocolate, which is a major thing for her. You don't understand...the girl actually makes satisfaction noises and is not to be disturbed while eating chocolate, so this is a very big deal.
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<br />Apparently, a coworker came up, while we were talking, with a chocolate cream pie and said, "<strong>Gee, Ruthie, wouldn't you lovvvee to have some?"</strong>
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<br />"<span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong>You ARE the devil, you know...hey, shut up, or the pie goes in your face</strong></span>."
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<br />Did I...mention that she works as an admin at a church at present? Hehehe.
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<br />Like me, she too gave up her 60+ hours per week professional job as an advertising copywriter six months ago, when grandma took a turn for the worse; ready to step in for her turn if/when Mom gets exhausted.
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<br />A pretty cool and uncharacteristically noble thing for the previously spoiled family baby to do, she's grown up nicely...mostly... <p>Anyway, she gets all kinds of funky calls, working at a church, so it's very fun to prank call her with strange voices and stories and see how long it takes before she figures out it's me, hehehe.
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<br />So I thought about giving up cigarettes, but that's a bit too...stressful to tackle right now when things are finally settling down. Plus I've tried quitting before and I'm a real bitch when I do, and nobody wants THAT. I thought about giving up cursing and the word "fuck", but I did that last year and obviously it didn't hold.
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<br />So then I tried justification..."<span style="color:#6633ff;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">Hey Ruthie...isn't like...the whole point of Jesus' death supposed to be that he made that sacrifice so we didn't have to</span><span style="color:#666666;">?"</span></strong></span>
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<br />"<strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">Nice try, Chrys, but it's about relating to his suffering, dumb ass."</span></strong>
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<br />"<strong>I think you should've given up calling me 'dumb ass' for Lent. Try not to think about your coworker's chocolate cream pie, there, shithead. I love you anyway, sissy."</strong>
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<br />"<span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong>Love you too, sis...bye."</strong></span>
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<br />So Wednesdays are my day off, and of course, I get a terrible cold today. One of the reasons I decided to take one full day off of everything is because I need one day off from everything to AVOID getting sick, but apparently this strategy isn't working.
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<br />So I'm struggling to get lunch in with McKenna at school, pick up dictation tapes for that new doc as my third job one day a week, go to an appointment, clean my house and do laundry, and type some transcription today before services tonight...and I'm all cranky with a 100.2 fever.
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<br />I call K, MY church secretary, to find out what time the service is.
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<br />"<strong>K, what times are services today?"</strong>
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<br />"<strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">12 p.m. and 7</span></strong>"
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<br />"K, <strong>12's no good, I have lunch with McK at school. I'll be there at 7, with bells on. I have no idea what that expression means, actually, and I better not wear bells, being as it IS lent and I'm supposed to be all..reverent</strong>."
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<br />"<span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>No, bells are more of an "epiphany" thing, you can wear them then</strong></span>."
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<br />"<strong>Hahaha! Excellent, I'm marking that down on my calendar...'<span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="color:#6666cc;">Epiphany</span><span style="color:#6600cc;">...wear exotic bells for no apparent reason</span></span>."</strong>
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<br /><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>"I'll call you and remind you to wear them."</strong></span>
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<br />So then I'm driving to my appointment, hacking away with a cough, grabbing quickly through a drive-thru, then eating, a Big Mac, dropping the "special sauce" on my jacket and cursing about it, when I come down the hill, around the bend, from the south side of the city.
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<br />Ever since I was a kid, this has always astounded me...how this city just suddenly pops up from behind two hills once you round the bend, it literally catches your breath.
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<br />Today, however, was particularly awe-inspiring. The moment I rounded the bend, the sun came out, just briefly...after some pretty heavy-duty storms...and a very thick, very large rainbow rounded over the entire city, right over Carew Tower....it was absolutely breathtaking.
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<br />I looked at the people in the cars to the left and the right...and we all were smiling at each other and pointing, kind of a "bonding with strangers" moment..."<strong><em>Can you see that? It's beautiful!!!"</em></strong>
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<br />I remembered my learned gift over the past few years of finding the slightest bit of joy out of the simplest things in life, which I learned at a time when there was virtually nothing left of my previous life and things in the city in which I lived were literally in tatters. I learned that immediately after Hurricane Ivan, in fact. The slightest thing can make me full of joy, the tiniest kindness from a stranger...you learn to appreciate the small stuff and take time out to admire it. :)
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<br />So, methinks...</p><p>"<strong><em><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Ooops</span>....</em><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><em>ok</em></span><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><em>ay, God, okay....sorry about me getting all wrapped up in my own...crap today. That was a pretty amazing sight, master scientist, thank you...for allowing us all to see that today.</em>"</span>
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<br /><span style="color:#666666;">So guess what I'm giving up? <strong>Cursing, junk food...AND I'm cutting down on smoking</strong>...we'll see if it holds.;)</span>
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<br /><span style="color:#666666;">I didn't have a camera with me, but here's a good stand-in photo for the same effect...actually, I'd have to say the effect of coming around that bend and the rainbow over the entire city was actually better, but the cathedral in another city photo is a cool additive.</span>
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<br />Time appropriately taken out, rainbow admired...back to the schedule now, shhh...;)</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyrwc8VGP4STbvcsplGSXAiyvT5hT_y5vomdxNozORVueD_P1QFDRbN7eyu8MnH_u4VcXYCbE34Nb3PK4S5qz5uqhJxg3Ic_TD4HdaL1EWv-SS23flr_VZLRqD9ZxzO0aCJF6nWnBmmf3A/s1600-h/TH1_61220075cathedral-rainbow_ET051207.jpg">
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<br />Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-11621777455220917182008-01-23T10:02:00.000-08:002009-04-23T07:43:06.121-07:00Coming Soon To A Dinner Table Near YouDuring my little weekly password/email checks here at the library, I've decided to write some more about the people I've met in my secondary job at a restaurant, because they are decidedly infinitely more interesting than the people in my professional job.<br /><br />Still writing here now and then is also my little "<strong><em>fuck you</em></strong>" to the boys in the BH (and the women that love them). I'm still here, I'm still writing...despite your bullshit.:)<br /><br />So here we go, boys....with love...from your favorite "toy."<br /><br />So I guess I passed my hazing initiation with flying colors because for whatever reason, all is well with the "head cheerleaders," their archnemeses, and everyone in between...like me.:)<br /><br />Perhaps it was because of the "Insight Into You" break room game I started, or perhaps they had a hormonal upswing fluctuation, who knows, but things are markedly improved around there.<br /><br />Also, I just found out that I actually....kick ass as a server. I'm not sure why, I used to suck at serving years ago. I think it has something to do with becoming a mother and learning how to multi-task amongst chaos, lol. I'm particularly good when there are children at the table, the kiddies tend to love me.<br /><br /><strong>However, there are still those days</strong>...<br /><br />So after I take the order, which inexplicably takes 10 minutes, the Alpha female at the table whispers that there are two birthdays, could we sing, .and could we create a sampler of some of our appetizers as her entree.<br /><br />I go to put in my order in the computer. Now, lol, the last thing anyone should've ever done is given me a keyboard for the prep part of ordering, upon which I can type in anything I want on the ticket going to the kitchen.<br /><br />"<strong><span style="font-family:courier new;">Filet mignon, butterflied...medium well...will you go with me? Circle yes or no."</span></strong><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong>"Add lobster. ..who's your mommy?" </strong><br /><br /></span>I go to pick up a Cobb salad and reserve it for mealtime, writing my name on a napkin and placing it with the other train of salads with names, which read:<br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"<strong>Katie. Jenny. Matt. Eric. Kill Whitey."</strong></span></span><br /><br />I chuckle to myself as I pick up glasses for iced teas.<br /><br /><span style="color:#666666;"><strong>"<span style="color:#3333ff;">Behind you, with a knife!</span></strong></span>" .shouts Eric.<br /><br />"<strong>Behind you</strong>" is the restaurant way of letting you know not to turn around quickly, to keep you from running into a tray and dropping whatever you or that person is holding, or impaling yourself on the steak knife.<br /><br />I shout..."<strong>I NEED SINGERS, TABLE 43... IN 30!" </strong><br /><br />"<strong><em><span style="color:#6600cc;">Singers heard</span></em></strong>!" shouts back Sally, service/window manager tonight.<br /><br /><strong><em>"Sally, can we make an appetizer sampler for high-maintenaince ho at table 43?"</em></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><span style="color:#6600cc;">"<strong><em>Argggh, I guess...okay."</em></strong></span><br /><br />Anthony, the bartender, breezes in for a salad.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333399;"><strong><span style="color:#990000;">"</span><span style="color:#cc0000;">Chrys, ask Garrett about his wild night playing strip poker with some really hot chicks last night."</span></strong></span><span style="color:#cc0000;"><br /></span><br /><em>"<strong>Dohkay, since I AM all about hot chicks playing strip poker and all...do I detect a note of sarcasm?"</strong></em><br /><strong></strong><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>"<span style="color:#cc0000;">Just do it, you'll see."</span></strong></span><br /><br /><strong><em>"Sooo Garrett, what's this about you playing poker with some really hot chicks last night?"</em></strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>HAHAHAHA!</strong><br /></span><br /><em>"<strong>Wow. I'm really glad you two are enjoying this, but I still have no idea of what you're talking about...and am not sure I want to."</strong></em><br /><br />Garrett pulls out his cell phone. There is a picture of a 300-lb naked woman with something stuffed up her nose and two Bud Light bottles covering where her nipples should be.<br /><br /><strong><em>"JESUS...I was...totally unprepared for that, I'll have nightmares. Wow, she's pretty sexy, I hope you got lucky</em></strong>."<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">"I...don't remember...AND...I have no explanation for that."</span></strong><br /><br />"<span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">Tinyyyyy...order </span><span style="color:#3366ff;">up!"</span></strong></span><span style="color:#3366ff;"><br /></span><br />"Tiny" is my nickname, except when James says it, it comes out <span style="color:#3366ff;">"</span><span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>Tinnnnehhhhhhh</strong>."</span><br /><br /><strong><em>"Thank you."</em></strong><br /><br />"<strong><span style="color:#993399;">Here you go, shithead</span></strong>" says Brent (pimp daddy from the story below).<br /><br />"<strong><em>Thank you, ball-less wonder.</em></strong> <strong><em>Wait a minute...kay, I'm missing the sampler, and this is a Delmonico instead of a filet. SHIT, I forgot the lobster tail. I NEED A LOB ON THE FLY!"</em></strong><br /><strong><em></em></strong><br />James shouts, "<span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>You fucking idiots, I need a filet on the fly. And Chrystal, there's no such thing as a lob on the fly, it takes 15 minutes, lol. And what the hell, a sampler???"</strong><br /></span><br /><strong><em>"Oooopppps...sorrrryyyy....but I love you, madly? Sally, what about the sampler?"</em></strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#6600cc;"><strong>"Oops, sorrrrrryyy...I'll get on the sampler" </strong></span>Sally grins sheepishly.<br /><br /><strong><em>"It's cool, I'll stall and say it's because the ribeye is well done."</em></strong><br /><br />I turn to see Sally flapping her arms wildly like a chicken. She is speaking to the appetizer chef, Geraldo, who speaks virtually no English.<br /><br /><span style="color:#6600cc;"><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Sally:</span> "No no...two PLATES of wings, two wings on the PLATE. Ya know...pollo (flaps her arms). DOS POLLO! On the plate."</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#339999;"><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Geraldo:</span> "Ches, chicken have two wings...on plates</strong></span>."<br /><br /><span style="color:#6600cc;"><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Sally:</span> "Oh Sweet Jesus, Ricardo? Please make him understand?"</strong></span><br /><br />I am now...doubled over laughing, though I will now receive a 5% tip, if that.<br /><br /><span style="color:#990000;"><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">"Where the hell are those Delmonicos for 47? Sally...I...need a minute to smoke, this is chaotic</span>"</strong></span>... says hot (and hotheaded) new bar manager, helping out in the kitchen.<br /><br />Sally and I simultaneously look at each other and raise an eyebrow...MEN. They can't handle this kind of stress; as I said, we mothers are used to chaos and multitasking and it's no big deal.<br /><br /><span style="color:#6600cc;"><strong>"NO, GERALDO....TWO WINGS ON THE PLATE, NOT TWO PLATES OF WINGS!!! OMG, Chrystal...he's going to punch me, right in my face, and I don't blame him.</strong></span><br /><br />I am now peeing myself with laughter at this display.<br /><br /><span style="color:#6600cc;"><strong>"Chrystal, I'm not leaving this kitchen to that table to apologize until I have a lob, a filet, and the sampler" </strong><span style="color:#333333;">Sally says, grabbing onto the metal bar at the counter.</span></span><span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span><br />"<strong><em>Me neither. Let's chain ourselves in solidarity...(sings)... </em><span style="color:#000000;">We Shall Overrrcomme."</span></strong><span style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;">"Tinehhh.....order UPPPP!"</span></strong><br /><br />Out we go, Sally kisses their asses.<br /><br />Ten minutes later, it's birthday showtime, but everyone is too busy to sing.<br /><br /><strong>"Sally, I'm trying to salvage any sort of tip whatsoever from this table and everyone's too busy to sing and there are two birthdays, can we NOT ruin these people's birthdays?"</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><span style="color:#6600cc;"><strong>"I NEED SINGERS TO TABLE 43 RIGHT NOW OR THERE'S EXTRA SIDEWORK AND I'LL KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP...GO...NOW!"</strong></span><br /><br />So now <strong>fourteen</strong> singers, Sally, and myself approach the table, clapping.<br /><br /><strong><em>"Ladies and gentlemen...may I have your attention please. Though Pam and Rick's friends and family would never even think of embarrassing them for their birthdays, their friends and family here at ____ have...absolutely no problem with that whatsoever. Please join me in singing the ____ birthday song."</em></strong><br /><br />And that three-ring circus would end up leaving me with?<br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>Big smiles, no idea of what went into their meal (or what was initially omitted) and?</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>A $50 tip, thank you....:)</strong><br /></span><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#333333;">all's well that ends well.:)<br /></span><br />>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br /><br /><strong>As always, I'm posting/visiting nowhere else but here, so if you receive emails, visits, comments, or anything else that appears to be associated with me, my name, or picture (</strong>and you don't know me in real life to call me and verify or view my computer emails/visit history<strong>).... it's not me, and it never was...believe that or not...but how could I prove it anyway?</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>At this point, I pretty much know who was involved. Trying to investigate/figure out who kept doing these things for two years (and why) only became flipped around back on ME into "stalking"...so I would advise anyone else experiencing "issues" with this same group to be very careful. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Gain as much documentation as you can, but be prepared for the same response, if you're dealing with those from that posse. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>If you have the money (</strong>and want the drama<strong>), I would advise letting professionals do your investigation for you....though cyber harrassment/stalking IS very difficult to prove. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Even if you have an IP address, you can't prove it was that person, at that computer, at that very moment...and the BH tend to use dynamic IPs.</strong><br /><br /><strong>So until next time, enjoy your dinners....we always do.:)</strong> </span>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-20185057642217218092008-01-11T11:41:00.000-08:002009-04-23T07:49:14.457-07:00The Break Room Game...<span style="font-size:85%;">>>>>>>></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br />Sometimes, all you need is a sophisticated gay man in your life; one like Carson Kressley, only better....and I think I've found him. :)<br /><br />So I'm at the library returning books and researching something for a friend, thought I'd write this out for...well... me... and whoever...or WHATever might be reading. ;)<br /><br />Through Christmas, I started waiting tables, Thursdays through Sunday, for extra money. Apparently, an already-existing "clique-war" that I walked into (without knowing the history of) turned into an explosion, three days before Christmas.<br /><br />Server A was screaming at server B about taking her tables, Server C accused Server D of stealing tips...when I've noticed myself that the people most guilty of this ARE servers A and C...but many times, it's always the biggest accusers that think everyone else operates the way THEY do...but I told no one. I was surprised, however, when someone said this loudly in the break room.<br /><br />The new servers, which included R and myself, ended up smoking nervously in that break room, in fact, lol, just trying to avoid the rest of them and taking sides...which is how we met. Actually, I think that two girls have control and kinda bully the other two, but these days, I stay out of that kinda thing unless it directly involves me...and they really WANT it to involve me, lol.<br /><br />So I told him that I think this restaurant could use his testosterone for balance...use however much testosterone he had left and go out there immeeeediately and spread it around.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong, though there's always drama, I've actually missed waiting tables. There's always a singing chef. There's always some sort of food fight after the most anal-retentive manager has left for the day. There's always a ridiculous birthday song that no one wants to sing, and if you are of the more mischievous set, changing a word or two of it into something else so that no one notices...you laugh at least 27 times per shift.<br /><br />The particular saving grace for me is on Thursdays, when I work a full shift with R. He also has a professional job and just works a couple of serving shifts for extra cash, so we pretty much just roll our eyes and spend most of our time playing playing trivia games to the music overhead.<br /><br />In fact, we're so tight, we've become like an inseparable team; our tables love us because we are becoming famous for our ongoing music trivia war. We drop whatever we're doing at our tables, point at the other across the room and shout:<br /><br />"<span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong>General Public...Tenderness</strong>"</span>....<em><strong>Ohhhh yeah, I do believe I was first, thank you, I rock....that's two points for me</strong>."</em><br /><br />For whatever reason, our customers love this....then we do air shots of imaginary Jaeger in the kitchen over it later for our amusement.<br /><br />R is the intelligent, cultured, joyful type of gay man I haven't had in my life in a long time, since before I was married, and I've missed it. In fact, the last one I had, I helped bury in 1996 from AIDs.<br /><br />R transferred here six months ago from Boston, educated in New Hampshire, owns a home with his partner of four years, loves to entertain and garden, and would rather build you up than tear you down in a catty way; he radiates character...and I adore the man.<br /><br />I think it's no secret that I've become a bit jaded over the past two years after some events, but something he said reminded me of who I used to be.<br /><br />So in the spirit of R and the wonderful character HE is, here's a portion of what I wrote and left in the break-room to try to smooth things over between warring parties...apparently, it was a hit:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#3333ff;"><strong><em>Break-Room Game</em></strong></span>: <strong>Here's something to do besides smoke and complain about our coworkers. </strong><br /><br /><strong>"<span style="color:#cc0000;">Who Am I</span>"... AKA...."<span style="color:#cc0000;">Reasons Not to Hurt My Coworkers</span>."</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>If you CAN'T see these things about your coworkers (or yourself), you're not even trying. </strong><strong>Try it, it works...for at least the next five minutes. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>;)</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>(</strong>P.S...I'm not on the list, by the w<strong>ay.)</strong><br /><br /><br /><ol><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>I will inexplicably break into song at any given moment, appropriate or not, to try to give us all a boost. Who am I?</strong></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>Despite my tough, goth appearance, I am the perfect example of NOT juding a book by its cover. I actually love people, have an open heart, and I enjoy getting to know you. I also just like to break the preconceived perception mold, based on my appearance. Who Am I?</strong></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>I have a lightning-fast wit and a high IQ, and I am generally the little stick of dynamite in the room Now, if I only realized that about myself. Who am I? </strong></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>I am definitely not afraid to use my outside voice indoors. I am learning that if I focus it in the right direction, I can move mountains. Who am I?</strong></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>I have a tough, no-nonsense approach to work. I keep you busy to keep drama and gossip to a minimum and YOU out of trouble. </strong></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>Once you get past the "playah" facade, I actually am a little sensitive...but don't spread that around. I am learning to value myself for my sense of humor and my intelligence rather than the number of women I can collect. Who am I? </strong></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>I am learning that it's okay to be pissed at times; it doesn't make me a bad person. In fact, it's often good for me AND them to say "no." Who am I?</strong></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>I'm a smart, tough-cookie workhorse, but I also have a heart of gold and a ready laugh. Whatever circumstances I am dealt, I STILL will never leave my coworkers holding the bag. Who am I?</strong></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong></strong></span><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>I'm goofy as hell, have a wit that won't quit, and I love to provide your entertainment; however, make no mistake - I have a "no tolerance for bullshit" policy and I'm not afraid to use it. Who am I? </strong></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>I am kind to everyone, sincerely. I also have an artist's eye and creativity to bring to the table. Who am I? </strong></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>Though I look like I could crush you like a walnut (and probably could), I'd rather motivate your ass to help me and make you laugh while doing it. Who am I?</strong></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"><strong>I exude joy and positivity. I would rather have coffee with you and build you up than throw fries at you and tear you down. I am the poster child of team player. Who am I?</strong></span></li></ol><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-59088712934474750332007-12-18T00:00:00.000-08:002009-04-23T07:23:03.967-07:00Speaking of people with no moral compass....>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br />My Southern Baptist coworker, otherwise a normal and loveable individual, decided to hop on her soapbox and give us all a lecture on the evils of "<strong>The Golden Compass</strong>" during a meeting today.<br /><br />It was one of those professional association meetings that always seem to be held at the Holiday Inn, where you are stuck for hours. You are forced to sit and listen to stuff you already knew, but you act attentive anyway, mostly because you think you're going to get freebies and prizes from the reps if you answer all the questions later.;)<br /><br />This particular meeting was held because Rep Company A bought out Rep Company B.They were "unveiling" some multi-million-dollar software program that was supposed to "revolutionize the industry."<br /><br />Unfortunately, instead of gift cards to favorite restaurants this time, they instead wrapped up a paperweight with their logo with a cheap-ass silver bow and threw some Jelly Bellies in a gray plastic container, obviously sparing no expense. Woo and hoo...apparently they went all out THIS Christmas.<br /><br />Upon discovering it was my other coworker's birthday, I put the silver bow on the plastic container, handed him my container of Jelly Bellies, and said: "<strong><span style="color:#3366ff;"><em>Here, dude...Happy Birthday..I got you this</em></span>."</strong> Hehehe.<br /><br />When asked if there were any more birthdays today, I replied, "<span style="color:#3366ff;"><em><strong>No, but mine was Saturday? What do I win?"</strong></em><br /></span><br />I was...promptly handed another piece of gray plastic filled with Jelly Bellies.<br /><br />Closet Trekkie Boy/Harry Potter fan/Birthday Boy and I amused ourselves by pretending they were Harry Potter's "Bertie's Bott's beans" and that they tasted like more interesting flavors, turning the people there into more interesting creatures for our amusement; particularly the guy in front of me. He kept turning around and leaning on my table. He reminded me of an older version of Anthony Michael Hall in "Sixteen Candles," complete with his sad idea of a come on.<br /><br /><strong>"Hey babe...how YOU doin...I knew you'd come 'round. Don't you hate these things? I'd rather take you out to lunch."</strong><br /><br />I...was tempted to throw Bertie Bott's beans in his bald spot when he turned back around.<br /><br />I think Trekkie Boy (also the owner's son) thought I wasn't paying attention because of such antics, as well as snickering like a madwoman with my other coworker at her mutant-alien stomach rumblings. Can I help it if it reminded us of an episode of Seinfeld?<br /><br />He thought I wasn't paying any attention...until they asked if there any questions. :)<br /><br />I said: "<span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>Yeah...um...I really like the new quoting system, it's much more user friendly, and I'm REALLY glad it will save our progress if we lose connection.</strong></span> <span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>However....did I miss that there are any error messages to catch you, should you put in values that are inconsistent?</strong></span> "<br /><br />Uncomfortable shifting of weight, and then..."<strong>hmmm...she may be right, what about that, A</strong>?" <p>"(smile) <strong><em>Well...um, yes, we're aware of that. T</em></strong><span style="color:#666666;"><strong><em>here's a blanket statement at the end that reminds you that all quotes are subject to approval. We're um...working on that. For now, it's especially important for you to double-check yourself</em>.</strong>"</span></p><p><span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>"Oh, I will...thank you.:)"</strong></span></p><p><span style="color:#666666;">Trekkie boy smiled sheepishly at me, which I've learned is his nonverbal equivalent to:</span></p><p><span style="color:#666666;">"</span><span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">You clever little shit...the moment I chalk you up to being nothing more than a giggly idiot, you turn right around, dump out all the contents of a problem on the table, and find the crux of the problem...yeah, we'll have to watch that before we quote</span>."</strong></span></p><p><span style="color:#666666;">I winked at him. He's a loveable, teddy bear kinda guy.</span></p><p><span style="color:#666666;"><em>And good enough, company points earned</em>. </span></p><p><span style="color:#666666;">During our HP "Festival of Beans," however, I had forgotten that coworker to my left, though a very dear lady who makes me laugh on a regular basis (as does her stomach), is also a good old-fashioned Southern Baptist gal, which means I was promptly given a lecture on Harry Potter, witchcraft, etc. being "of the devil."<br /></span><br />I asked her if she believed that I shouldn't eat JIF peanut butter either, because the CEO of Proctor and Gamble was actually a Satan worshipper.<br /><br />She looked at me like I farted a funeral. Then she realized I was joking and laughed; she'd forgotten she'd heard that ridiculous churchy rumor, actually started by a competitor.<br /><br />Then she told me not to let McK see "<em><strong>The Golden Compass</strong></em>" because it was about child-stealing and soul-stealing and God loses at the end of the series.<br /><br />I told her I'd have to read it for myself first to see the overall message, and that sometimes I didn't see much difference between witchcraft and saying the same prayer 20 times; in fact, I wondered if it was actually the same thing, it was just the label we put on it.<br /><br />She said, "<strong>Aren't you a big church fan/Christian?"<br /></strong><br />I said, "<span style="color:#000099;"><strong><em>Sure I am...but I respect all beliefs, I keep an open mind. </em></strong><em><strong>I'm more about getting past the legalism of religion and more about the overall message, the choices the "characters" make; duality of man, good vs. evil, etc. </strong></em></span></p><p><em><strong><span style="color:#000099;">I'm also about letting your imagination carry you, without letting yourself get carried away by your imagination. </span></strong></em></p><p><em><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>God likes imagination, he created it...and he understands temptation. Like... Halloween....you can dress up as witches and ghouls, as long as it ends there; never being able to actually cross those moral lines...even when anonymous or a character.<br /><br />It's the ones that dress up as angels or cute little monkeys, pretending they don't actually have the darkest of human dark sides that you need to worry about most.;)"</strong> </span></em></p><p>Closet trekkie boy proceeded to choke on, then spit out, his last Bertie Botts birthday bean.</p>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-26126826739667232072007-10-20T17:45:00.000-07:002009-04-23T08:14:28.161-07:00Kentucky Vs. Florida Vs. Zack's Alcohol Tolerance<div align="justify">Who do I root for...GAAAK! Actually, I...really...don't care...until basketball season...BUT... Zack just called me and told me to tell everyone that he and his friends are right behind the CBS cameras, they've already been on camera twice, and to tell McK to watch it.<br /><br />I couldn't get the game here (or I am generally retarded and just can't find it), so I called him back to find out how, and it became abundantly clear that he had done quite a bit of "tailgaiting" already.<br /><br /><strong>Zack: </strong>"<strong><span style="color:#6666cc;">Heyyy, how YOU doin', this is Biggggg Pappppaaa</span>! </strong>"<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#6666cc;">ME</span>:</strong> "<strong>*</strong>snort<strong>*...<span style="color:#cc0000;">Y<em>eah, well...hey there, Big Papa, this is Rubber Duck, what's your twenty? </em></span></strong><br /><br />For whatever reason, this sent him into a fit of Popeye laughter for about 5 minutes, followed by other CB-radio quotations, in barely intelligible fashion, from the 70's movie cult classic, "<em><strong>Convoy</strong></em>" and a loud Rebel Yell...<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#6666cc;">ME</span>:<em> <span style="color:#cc0000;">WOW. Z, you are LIT, aren'tcha? </span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong>Zack: <span style="color:#6666cc;">I tell you what....whew, but it's fucking awwwweeeesome.....YEAHHHHH! WOOOOOOOOO </span></strong>... followed by yet another rebel yell, then complete silence, as he'd lost reception.<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br />So if you see anyone looking remotely like the guy I had a picture of on here a few weeks ago, I don't know him....just some guy...not my daughter's father or anything...particularly if he does his "mosh-pit mock dance," which he only does when drunk. He thinks it's awesome, but everyone else? Not so much...and now on national television.... I'm... so proud... :)<br /><br />I'm kidding, Z, you know we love you...and we know you rarely drink these days, so have fun, but don't drive.... and dude, remember...we're not as young as we used to be. Gone are the days of seeing who could do the most shots of Jaeger and drink the other under the table (which I always won, by the way...:)... back then I had freak tolerance....<br /><br />...or Truth or Dare games run amuck that still come back to haunt me... STILL holding the record for acting the most retarded in a public place...for standing on my head atop a table in Darryl's restaurant, in a mini skirt, proclaiming to the restaurant first "<em><strong>May I have your attention please</strong></em>..."...and doing a Tarzan yell whilst on my head.<br /><br />Sigh again<br /><br />....after being dared, of course, y'all thinking I wouldn't because I was "Little Miss Appropriate." </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I did that kind of thing in my days of yore idiocy, trying to prove I was as brave and wild as any man(or as stupid).<br /><br />BUT....we're (ahem) grownups now, and for those times we're not, your daughter is sooooo not watching that and aww, too bad, she's at a Halloween Party and can't see it.:)<br /><br />I have now told "everyone,"which you'll probably regret asking for later, but that's just too dang bad, this stays up. OHHOOHOOO yeah, it does. So don't vomit while the camera is on you or anything.;)<br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>I... really can't stand football. They stop and start it every five minutes, measure something, and then talk about it for 20 more minutes...<br /></strong><br /><strong>But then I guess men feel very much the same way about our relationship talk...we stop it every five minutes to measure something, talk about it for the next several hours...</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>It's kinda the same thing...only both events usually end with us women sitting at home with a tub of ice cream and a great book....;)</strong></span></div>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-73510710637321823692007-10-10T12:36:00.000-07:002009-04-23T08:26:06.256-07:00Pink Ribbons and "Breast Awareness Month";)..Tribute to An Unexpected Reunion With An Old Friend Today>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;">Just a little unexpected tribute to an old, dear friend I surprisingly came across today, an unexpected reunion...(thank GOD, sometimes those turn out well, lol)....one of those "is this really a coincidence" and odd-timing sort of things I've mentioned...so I thought here was as good a place as any to pay tribute to her.<br /><br /></span><span style="color:#666666;">So after the loonnnnggg meeting, I walk into Macy's to get some Clinique...crap...and stop dead in my tracks. There, standing at the Clinique counter, is an old friend of mine that I worked with during my pregnancy and college years, who was like my surrogate mother....<strong>Judy</strong>. </span></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-size:100%;color:#666666;">In fact, corny as this sounds, I'm tearing up writing about that "reunion moment" and introducing her now to my 13-year-old daughter. :) I mean...what are the odds?<br /><br />We both covered our mouths and gasped, cried and squealed and jumped up and down, like we stupid girls tend to do. We hugged and held both hands while we talked, and there was much oohing and awwing over McKenna, squeezing her within an inch of her life.<br /><br /></span><span style="color:#666666;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I knew Judy moved and then moved again, and I had lost touch with her. She looked EXACTLY the same.<br /><br />This is the woman (along with the my other counter ho's) who viewed the developed ultrasound pictures with me before Zack did (at the time, a practicing alcoholic, out drunk at a bar somewhere, hitting on some ho) and threw me a surprise baby shower. She and Teder held my hand and kept me laughing throughout my rough pregnancy.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><em><strong>Seeing her was almost like...God smiling on me for moving here </strong>.:)</em></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;"><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;color:#666666;">I worked there while in college; working there AND waiting tables for Chi Chi's. (I know, I know, shut up, it's ironic that a small-breasted woman worked as a cocktail waitress at a placed called Chi Chi's, but stay with me..try to focus.;) I didn't work there while pregnant, no, lol, just college and Clinique...(although while pregnant was the only time I actually HAD Chi Chi's.;)<br /><br />That two-year-Clinique stint was, hands down, the most fun I've ever had on a job. It was like <em>Designing Women; </em>five very different personalities, but it somehow worked. </span></span></span><br /><br /><p><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;"><strong><em>Small aside/tangent about"Designing Women"</em></strong>....Men will never understand how awesome that show was because they won't even watch it to find out, but it had some of the best comedic writing of all time, combining the quirks of Southern mannerisms with cutting edge politics during the Reagan era. The original cast was the best: Dixie Carter, Delta Burke, Annie Potts, and Jean Smart.</span></span></p><p><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;">I just saw an Emmy-winning episode the other day...1986, I think? </span></span></p><p><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;">Julia Sugarbaker (<em>two syllables in the south....</em></span></span><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;"><em> it's "JEWL-yah"</em>)....has an uppity, country-club, southern-belle, stereotypical ultra-conservative over to visit while her gay friend with AIDS is there also (having just asked the women to organize/design his funeral). The upper-crust society of Atlanta had shunned him since his coming out. </span></span><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;">The woman publically insults him...<strong>loudly exclaiming that the reason he has AIDS is, as a point of fact, that God is punishing him for his sexual sin.</strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;">Julia asks her to leave, but nobody asks people to leave like the outspoken (but still well-mannered) Southern Belle, <strong>Dixie Carter</strong>: </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;">"</span></span><span style="color:#3366ff;"><em>I'm so sorreh, but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you to leavah? You see, I have a very dear guest in my home, who is welcome here with me at any time, and that you have just now rudely insulted? So from this moment fahwahd, it's YEW that is not welcome herah."</em> </span><span style="color:#666666;"></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#666666;">(Opens door for her....awww, shit...y'all done pissed Jewl-yah off, now)</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;"><span style="color:#6666cc;">"</span><span style="color:#3366ff;"><em>And let me tell you somethin' else..."Bitsy"...</em></span></span></span><em><span style="color:#3366ff;">I've known you for a vehry, vehry, vehry, VEHRY lonnnnnnnnnng time...</span></em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;"><em>...</em><em> and if GAWWWD were handin' out puuuunishments for sexual impropriety? </em></span></strong></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em><span style="color:#3366ff;">YEW would be at the head of THAT line, EVRY' time..."</span></em> </span></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;">(slams the door behind her)</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#666666;"><em><strong>You see...nobody puts people in their hypocritical, finger-pointing places better than a passionate, well-spoken Southern woman.;)</strong></em></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;">Our personal little cast was:<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color:#666666;"><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Bobbie-Gail</span>,</em> </strong><strong><em>naive little country girl</em></strong>,<span style="color:#cc0000;"> </span><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>Teder</em> (nickname)<em>/Laura</em></span></span>,</strong> counter manager and <strong><em>peppy college cheerleader</em>,</strong> <strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">Jen</span></em>,</span></strong> <em><strong> young, suburban soccer mom</strong></em>, <strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Judy</span></em>,</strong> <em><strong>wise, witty older woman</strong></em>, <strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em>Me</em></span>...</strong>whatever I am. (Judy informed me today that I was the<strong> <em>socially-conscious</em>/</strong><em><strong>artsy intellectual? T</strong></em>hen there was <strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>Melody</em>,</span></span></strong> <em><strong>the Ho</strong></em>...because, as I heard a comedian say once, <strong>there always has to be "the ho" in any group of women</strong>. :) </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color:#666666;">Though Melody came close, there were no "ditzes" in our group, Clinique didn't hire ditzes. It would ruin the whole "lab coat" effect.;)<br /><br /></span><span style="color:#666666;">Just like on <em><strong>Designing Women</strong></em>, we geniunely liked each other, and all openly wished we were a little more like the others in some way, and probably were, underneath it all. </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;">Though there were the occasional <strong>"<em>Ya know? You're really bugging the shit outta me right now</em>"</strong> snips at each other, which passed very quickly, we were a fairly phony-free, more mature bunch, but we still found various ways to be the "Counter of Trouble."...in a good way, we were a lot of fun. Thus, everyone wanted to work at our counter, there was actually a waiting list. </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;"></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"><em>A rarity with a bunch of women, but there really were no catfights. No backstabbing and no deep-seated, unadmitted jealousy. No passive-aggressive, blind-siding jabs. No boyfriend-stealing/merit-stealing competition and no gossipy vindictive, retaliative drama.</em></span></strong></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"><em>Just laughter, fun, support, and friendship, celebrating each other's accomplishments and genuinely happy to see our friend commended. We were truly a team.:)<br /></em></span></strong></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;">Half of our fun was pulling pranks on other people because our department manager was never around, she was always in the stock room, drinking vodka-spiked coffee all day.<br /><br /><strong>"Hey Tede, where's ML?"</strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff6666;"><strong>"<span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>Yeah, she's um..."doing inventory</em>" (wink wink, nudge nudge.)<br /></span></strong></span><br />Our favorite game was playing pranks on Teder; she was so OCD about the way our counter looked and kids messing up the samples. Funny, I always KNEW she was a secret nurturer (hellloooo, she's a cheerleader); because she now has four kids and is a stay-at-home mom.:)<br /><br />I remember once, this little boy was running in circles, round and round the counter, which WAS pretty annoying, but I thought Teder would lose her mind over it. I was bored and needed a laugh. Well, it just so happened that I had some fake dog poo in my purse. </span><span style="color:#666666;">(Never mind, you don't want to know.)<br /><br />So after he left, I left it in the middle of the floor behind the counter, just to mess with her a little.<br /><strong><em>Tede? OMG! Come here, look! That little boy came here behind the counter and look what he left behind!</em></strong><br /><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">"What...WHAT THE FUCK??? CHILDREN RUNNING FREE SHOULD BE ILLEGAL! Somebody call housekeeping!!!"</span></strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#666666;">Judy and I soiled OURSELVES, watching her pinch her nose and poke at it with various objects herself (because everyone knew housekeeping took three years to get there, if ever) until finally she figured out it was fake.<br /><br /><em><strong>"<span style="color:#000000;">Chrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyystttallll! You bitch, hehehehe."</span></strong></em><span style="color:#000000;"><br /><br /></span>Too late...I was already halfway out of the store, gone to lunch... hehehehe....wicked, wicked, I am.<br /><br />Judy is particularly gifted with people...she could say some of the craziest, most shocking, even insulting shit, and people would love her for it.<br /><br />Once a priest passed by, and without shame, she said, "<em><strong>Hi Father! Why don'tcha come here and bless me and our new product?"</strong></em></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;"><em><strong>...</strong></em>and don't you know, he actually did?<br /></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">"<em><strong>Um, Jude??? Are youuuu....Catholic...or... anything</strong></em>?"</span><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;"><strong>"Nnnnope.</strong>"</span><br /></span><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#666666;"></span><br /><span style="color:#666666;">She was full of stories about people she'd met or waited on, over the years, but the best Judy story I told McKenna just recently. The woman has NO shame. She used to bartend on the side to make extra money, had a ton of stories.<br /><br /></span><span style="color:#666666;">Apparently one day, some drunk asshole took one look at the small-breasted Judy and said</span>, <span style="color:#666666;"><strong>"Woman? Where the HELL are your tits?"<br /></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#666666;">Judy, quick as a wink, said</span>, "<em><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">Sir, I'm sorry if my appearance displeases you...but I just had a double-mastectomy after breast cancer."</span></strong></em><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color:#666666;">Hopefully by now with what I've told you about Judy, you DO realize.... <strong>she hadn't had a double-mastectomy OR breast cancer.</strong><br /><br /></span>.....but that'll "learn 'em," hehehe.<br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#666666;"><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">That man left her a 100-dollar tip and sent her flowers every day for two weeks.<br /></span></em></strong><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;">No shame, I told you...but he kinda deserved it.<br /><br />Clinique was a pink-ribbon supporter back in the early days of breast cancer research, before people realized it was the number two killer of women, and before it was cool to wear those pink ribbons or people even knew what they were for. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:100%;">During October, 5% of all Clinique sales went to Breast Cancer research, wayyy back when; so it was very much a part of our mindset.) </span></p><p>So new, in fact, that often when people would ask us what the pink ribbons were for, we'd often be in the middle of ringing them up and stumble out, "<strong>Breast Awareness Month</strong>."<br /><br />Which, of course, was followed by fits of giggles from the counter ho's...."<span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>Yes...please be aware of my breasts, or the lack thereof, during the month of October." </strong><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">So everyone?<br /></span></strong><br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color:#ff99ff;"><em>On behalf of my old, good friend, Judy...during the month of October, please wear your pink ribbons and be aware of our breasts...or the lack thereof.;) </em><br /><br /></span></p></span></span><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></span><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-24322575262407778062007-09-27T08:04:00.000-07:002009-04-16T08:27:41.479-07:00For Myanmar: "Bring Me a Higher Love:" Buddhist Blessing and A Prayer from the Book of Common Prayer (Episcopal)<p><br />First, just some random photos I had on file to show you on the way out...over the past two years....:)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkD5yiIoaQW9BVHpQO73sR8PSKOya-71cSHRYce2oBpVkBEmtXGziN8dDA9gkC6y5dbKs3AhS0EqHoRHCGHWtlEXKaAkgnC4LBgM_Me7D9syOHuGSIUzssl_9cf-PjgRp46GKOswvjZ7_z/s1600-h/confirmation.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118647718169135698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkD5yiIoaQW9BVHpQO73sR8PSKOya-71cSHRYce2oBpVkBEmtXGziN8dDA9gkC6y5dbKs3AhS0EqHoRHCGHWtlEXKaAkgnC4LBgM_Me7D9syOHuGSIUzssl_9cf-PjgRp46GKOswvjZ7_z/s200/confirmation.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">...just a picture Bubby took of me on confirmation day. I wore black and white, to represent my Taoist/Buddhist influences....refuse to adhere to just one philosophy...such a rebel.;) </span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;">I kinda look drugged ...Heeeeee! Dude, seriously....what the he...um...I mean...what the heck (whups, confirmation day)... was I off in thought about? </span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><br />(Southern Belle accent) <strong>"Why, I was thinkin' about...Jesus, of co-ahse, dahlins!" </strong><em>*bats eyelashes* </em><br /><br />"</span><span style="font-size:78%;"><em><span style="color:#cc0000;">Rev J...gosh, hi there...yeah, um...I was...thinking....about your last sermon...<br />...mm hmm, I WAS....no, really.... ;) </span>"<br /></em><br /></span><strong>RANDOM PICS OF PEOPLE I LOVE...</strong><em>who have stuck by me through thick and thin......:)<br /></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDj7HWb42mvyOZqbfKFMSqTyZVQoha8LGnl4YQFiigI86yDdmPYFeCTo37xtw4gyylMFCRXVk5PDP6xd_6XLvqN5bUiS9kDWjT-YbuNkhpmPUQl8nokna1_zpphinWveiMOlZ8w7bBuQP/s1600-h/mckzackcharline.jpg"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116912102186793458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDj7HWb42mvyOZqbfKFMSqTyZVQoha8LGnl4YQFiigI86yDdmPYFeCTo37xtw4gyylMFCRXVk5PDP6xd_6XLvqN5bUiS9kDWjT-YbuNkhpmPUQl8nokna1_zpphinWveiMOlZ8w7bBuQP/s200/mckzackcharline.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>Zack (</strong>McKenna's father...who, despite fussing with one another regularly for fun, is actually one of my best friends<strong>), Confirmation Queen, McKenna (</strong>she's lost 16 lbs since that photo...give it up for ma girl<strong>!), and his mother, Charline,</strong> also a dear lady and friend...)<br /><br /><br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeyBQYzlwAXCZzPUIry8WfkVi6uFbtGX8dpkQe0F244B0ddBdY3PnWBz4dbeE0hkRB_VZzgIoEKDUWU02lFL78vkaPdHcSMLp8ATSwF-uAZh3wLEYyGf2Vsto94MUuEdaFbwsa8bl19Kz3/s1600-h/zackandcharline.jpg"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118650552847551090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeyBQYzlwAXCZzPUIry8WfkVi6uFbtGX8dpkQe0F244B0ddBdY3PnWBz4dbeE0hkRB_VZzgIoEKDUWU02lFL78vkaPdHcSMLp8ATSwF-uAZh3wLEYyGf2Vsto94MUuEdaFbwsa8bl19Kz3/s200/zackandcharline.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:78%;">I like this picture of the two of them...HE looks like a member of the Bush family, tho...acts like him too, some days...always the conservative, but he has a heart he likes to hide.;) Money, money, money....football, football, football, though...pttthbbbbttttttt.;) </span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgNlrU2YXiI8fCoKMseSljzX2yyZ74wvokIGjNI6-9sxkdAruHUtoy_ny1atv8wpVpsEqMaC6UsNGb0J2Ky81Yb5x2e_wLZ0D2oCpfdj2SQ13-LXlRsl4nib6B8vSvUhCjeVB7GDf9GIs/s1600-h/confirmationday.jpg"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116866292065614306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgNlrU2YXiI8fCoKMseSljzX2yyZ74wvokIGjNI6-9sxkdAruHUtoy_ny1atv8wpVpsEqMaC6UsNGb0J2Ky81Yb5x2e_wLZ0D2oCpfdj2SQ13-LXlRsl4nib6B8vSvUhCjeVB7GDf9GIs/s200/confirmationday.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> <strong>This is our confirmation day, our "class" as true "Pisckies" ...baptismal candidates too...clockwise: Jack, Mike, Pam and Luc...second row...Jan, me (</strong>overly cheesing because we were laughing right before this was taken...can I help it if the bishop was funny<strong>?), Queen Bubbina, Zach, Michelle, Brynna, Julie, Kailey, Julie's parents. Back row: Bishop Sauls (</strong>still want that haaaa-atttttttt<strong>:), David, Marianne, Sarah, Renauld, </strong>can NOT think of Julie's husband's name. Argh<strong>! Julie's other daughter, Caitlyn, is in the wheelchair...broke both legs due to a fall off a horse..:(</strong> </span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></strong></p><strong><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgabMxUsujzXqWuFauU17ycI2doFkOXhIQzcL3w09ZiTsIoVu6SU6RlBMcTKp3nHPiF-pZ6poHaML_ZsoenF6NjrUs2vku0bwHkiwtIKCIF38xwV2jBI63Uky5i_Y6U8v3RZZ6th3kY06HY/s1600-h/megrammck.jpg"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116862349285636514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgabMxUsujzXqWuFauU17ycI2doFkOXhIQzcL3w09ZiTsIoVu6SU6RlBMcTKp3nHPiF-pZ6poHaML_ZsoenF6NjrUs2vku0bwHkiwtIKCIF38xwV2jBI63Uky5i_Y6U8v3RZZ6th3kY06HY/s200/megrammck.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> <strong>Dat's me, ma grandma (</strong>91, pretty good for that age and with lung cancer, eh? This was taken before the fall and when she could still walk; now in the last stages of lung cancer; mom has finally resumed primary caretaking of her<strong>), and the Queen of the Day, Miss Bubby.:)</strong><br /><br /></span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><p><strong><em></em></strong></p><p><strong><em></em></strong></p><p><strong><em></em></strong></p><p><strong><em>Clearly, these photos have been untouched, and you'll be happy to know that no further harm of the images has been done because, well...that's just not possible ....I look bad enough already. No Photoshop, just lightened them...</em></strong> </p><p></p></span></span><p></p><p><strong><em>It's a BLOG, people, not your ticket to stardom or men....just the real deal...as it should be.:) </em></strong></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;">I wish I had a recent picture of my best friend, <strong>Amber B</strong> or my lil sister<strong>, Ruthie</strong>, but... </span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>A</strong></span>) <strong>Neither one would let me, at this point, considering what some did with other pictures of mine and you scared them off from commenting a long time ago.</strong></span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color:#3366ff;">B</span>) It would take at least three years to find one they'd approve of...but Amber still reads here today...love you, Amber.:)</span><br /></p><p></strong><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc66cc;">~~~~~~~~~~~<span style="color:#333333;"><em>ORIGINAL POST</em></span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong><em>I had the weirdest dream last night...<br /><br /></em></strong></span><span style="color:#333333;">Besides the fact that once again, someone I wish I'd never met two years ago, created an ID and ran around the internet with it again...oh wait, that wasn't a bad dream that actually happened...again.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;">No, no</span><span style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;">.... I guess my mind was on the mounting tension in Myanmar/Burma, or at least my subconscious was. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;"><br />I was in an Episcopalian church, but not mine...more like the old-style cathedrals. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;">There was Jan, my former priest (and friend) at the pulpit,...with the Dalai Lama standing there beside her, smiling at each other and taking turns offering sermons?<br /><br />I turned to my right, and there was Bubby, smiling up at me like the little cherub she (mostly) is. I kissed her on the cheek, put my arm around her.<br /><br />I turned to my left and smiled up to whom apparently was my husband. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#333333;">Who was it, you ask?<br /><br /><strong>Famous Buddhist, Richard Gere, of course... duh... ;) </strong></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#333333;">Actually, I...don't...know where th...?????<br /><br />It was a dream, whaddya want from me?;)<br /></span><br /><strong>(There were, however, no gerbils in sight, just in case you were wondering.;)<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"><em><strong>From both religions, whose common goal is (or should be).... to end all suffering....</strong></em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></p><p><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#ffcc33;">For Priests of Myanmar and their people</span>:</span></em><br /><br /><span style="color:#6666cc;">Traditional Buddhist Blessing: </span><br /></strong><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>Just as the soft rains fill the streams, </em></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>pour into the rivers and join together in the oceans, </em></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>so may the power of every moment of your goodness flow forth to awaken and heal all beings, </em></span><br /></strong></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>Those here now, those gone before, those yet to come.<br />By the power of every moment of your goodness </em></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>May your heart's wishes be soon fulfilled as completely shining as the bright full moon, </em></span><br /></strong></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>as magically as by a wish-fulfilling gem.<br />By the power of every moment of your goodness </em></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>May all dangers be averted and all disease be gone. </em></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>May no obstacle come across your way. </em></span><br /></strong></span><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>May you enjoy fulfillment and long life.<br />For all in whose heart dwells respect, who follow the wisdom and compassion, of the Way, May your life prosper in the four blessings of old age, beauty, happiness and strength.</em></span><br /></span><br /><span style="color:#6666cc;">Prayer for Peace, Book of Common Prayer</span><br /></strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em>Eternal God, in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever.<br /><br />Almighty God our heavenly Father, guide the nations of the world into the way of justice and truth, and establish among them that peace which is the fruit of righteousness, that they may become the kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth:deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Amen.</em><br /><em></em></strong><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">...the last stanza of this Southern Episcopalian hymn, a personal favorite, can be applied to both religions...</span><span style="color:#666666;">.whose common goal is...or should be... the end of suffering...</span><br /><span style="color:#666666;"></span><br /></strong></span><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>What Wondrous Love Is This....<br /></strong></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;"><em>...and when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on;</em><br /><em>...and when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on.</em> </span><br /></strong></span><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>...and when from death I’m free? I’ll sing and joyful be...</em><br /><em>...and through eternity, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on;</em><br /><em>...and through eternity, I’ll sing on!</em><br /></span></span><br /></strong><span style="color:#3366ff;"><span style="color:#666666;">You ain't heard nothin' until you've heard a Southern A.M.E soloist sing this song from the perspective of their history...and from their very soul.:)<br /><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><em>And finally, my own prayer...</em><br /></span><br /></strong><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<span style="color:#666666;">PRAYER</span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /></span><br /></strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For</span> Mychal Bell </strong><span style="color:#666666;"><strong>in his jail cell and the Jena 6, bring them a higher love</strong> </span></span></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For </span>Justin Barker, <span style="color:#666666;">recovering from injury, and his buddies</span>, <span style="color:#666666;">bring them a higher love</span>... </strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For the</span> Jena, Louisiana DA, Reed Walters and the jury,<span style="color:#666666;"> bring them a higher love...</span> </strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For </span>Rev. Jesse Jackson, Rev. Al Sharpton, and the NAACP, <span style="color:#666666;">bring them a higher love... </span></strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For the</span> Buddhist priests in the streets of Myanmar, <span style="color:#666666;">withstanding tear gas and shots over their beliefs and personal freedoms, help them remember their higher love... </span></strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For the</span> military agents on behalf of Myanmar government (questionable Chinese stance?), <span style="color:#333333;">bring them a higher love...</span> </strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For the</span> American Soldier <span style="color:#666666;">in a foreign land, stroking his family's picture in his hand and saying a prayer, off to perform his ordered duty, bring him a higher love... </span></strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For the</span> Iraqi "insurgent" <span style="color:#666666;">who fights against him on ordered duty, holding his family's picture and saying a prayer to the same God, bring him a higher love... </span></strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For the</span> Ultra-Conservative Republican Southern Baptists <span style="color:#666666;">and the candidates they vote for, bring them a higher love.</span> </strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For the</span> Ultra-Liberal Democrat Atheists or Wiccans and the candidates they vote for, <span style="color:#666666;">bring them a higher love</span><span style="color:#666666;">...</span></strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"><strong><span style="color:#cc66cc;">For everyone in between</span>...bring us a higher love.</strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">PLEASE bring</span> George Bush, Dick Cheney, <span style="color:#666666;">and</span> General Petraeus <span style="color:#666666;">a higher love..hehehe</span> </strong></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;color:#cc33cc;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For </span>all members of Congress <span style="color:#666666;">and the</span> Supreme Court, <span style="color:#666666;">bring them a higher love...</span> </strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;color:#cc33cc;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">To</span> those in the public eye of fame, <span style="color:#666666;">being publically humiliated or publically humiliating others and those who think that cruelty is a form of entertainment, from their rehabs, their "news" positions, the comfort of their "cribs," or other self-chosen prisons...bring them a higher love.... </span></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"><strong>For <span style="color:#cc66cc;">those trying to achieve fame, going to any means to get there</span>...whether on stage, in the media, behind the scenes or...even on these blogs...bring them a higher love.</strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;color:#cc33cc;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For</span> my ex-husband and his family, <span style="color:#666666;">bring them a higher love... </span></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;color:#cc33cc;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For </span>my mother and father, sisters and brother...<span style="color:#666666;">bring them a higher love</span> </strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;color:#cc33cc;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">For </span>my friends and family, McKenna's teachers and McKenna <span style="color:#666666;">and whatever trials they face, bring them a higher love</span>... </strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;color:#cc33cc;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">...and then there's</span> me...<span style="color:#666666;">bring</span> ME <span style="color:#666666;">a higher love....:)</span><br /></strong></span><br /></span><strong>UPDATE: 09/27/2007: <span style="color:#ff0000;">Woo hoo! The DA lessened the charges to juvy, set him free on bail!!!</span><br /><br /></strong></span><span style="font-size:78%;">But...um...Walters...dude...I'm so embarrassed for you right now, my arrogant "Christian" brother...</span></p><p><span style="color:#3366ff;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>Mmm no..."Jesus Christ" and/or God will NOT rescue either you OR Mychal Bell from the consequences of either of your poor choices....he promised he wouldn't step in with free will...so YOU did this...</strong> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>Your interpretation of divine intervention stopping violence against you actually makes no sense, considering the whole issue is about violence towards one ya boys to begin with, or helllooo, perhaps he would've intervened in this situation earlier, hmm?<br /><br /></strong>Ha, wouldn't THAT be nice! </span></p><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color:#333333;">Oh well....back to focusing on MY missteps in faith/misinterpretations, MY screw ups, and MY "sin.":)<br /></span></span><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#666666;"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#336666;"><strong>No, wait a minute, I'm sorry...I get to do a little happy dance right now...teee heee! All that AND the house and senate defy Bush's threat of veto on the children's healthcare bill and pass it..? </strong></span></span><span style="color:#666666;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#336666;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;">Is it my freakin' birthday</span>? I've been waiting for years for this shit</strong>!<br /></span><span style="color:#336666;"></span><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>"<span style="font-size:85%;">Uh...ahem, passengers...this is your pilot, Captain Elizabeth Swan, speaking to you from the Mostly Friendly and Tolerant Skies of Moderate-To-Liberal Airlines....</span></strong></span><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">As I told you last week...just a friendly reminder to fasten your seat belts, ladies and gentleman...</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">...and put your tray tables in their upright and locked positions....</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">...though we may hit some turbulence...</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">...it <em>appears</em> we're actually coming in for a landing....</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">...it's time for social change...."</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">At last.</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">:) </span><br /></span><br /></strong></span><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br /><br /></strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc66cc;"><em><span style="color:#666666;">P.S. </span><strong>I want to put watching that truly... um...crazy-ass display of the darker-side-of-human-nature-in-groups in blogland behind me...and go out feeling the way I felt the moment I wrote the above post..enriched by higher love.:) </strong></em></span></p><p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKqWXwLes7695MeGB_7ojZcXGik5NGT9qTN5abnMyTk3i60OdozTI_3-UNbmFeEMeE3pMbmWrk2COfLoWY-4R4ILK07Xjsn37eloA3U_2wG9O8lqSHhsCEXIZM5HdqUNoZpwL5yNbRN_a0/s1600-h/peaceout2.jpg"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115421847523228098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKqWXwLes7695MeGB_7ojZcXGik5NGT9qTN5abnMyTk3i60OdozTI_3-UNbmFeEMeE3pMbmWrk2COfLoWY-4R4ILK07Xjsn37eloA3U_2wG9O8lqSHhsCEXIZM5HdqUNoZpwL5yNbRN_a0/s200/peaceout2.jpg" border="0" /></span></strong></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Peace be with you...<br /></span></strong></p><p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc66cc;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></p><p> </p></span>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-2715829856733297482007-09-18T12:03:00.000-07:002009-04-23T07:04:45.875-07:00What a surprise! Suddenly, Osama's Back! Grab Your Plastic and Your Duct Tape;)>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>(<span style="color:#3366ff;">BTW, for the intelligence-impaired, this post is written in that "crazy new style" called sarcasm...look it up</span>.)</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>So...let's see...</strong><br /><br />Petraeus didn't get the reaction they were going for with his report, nobody's really happy with him from any perspective along the political spectrum; a report chosen to be done on an emotionally charged day for effect...though no correllation has ever been found conclusively between Iraq and Osama bin Laden OR that Iraq ever had weapons of mass destruction.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">.... then a huge antiwar protest in D.C. occurs last week.<br /></span><br /></span><strong>Suddenly, what a freakin' coincidence! Is it? Yes, I believe it is! There's the face that "strikes fear in the hearts of all Americans" all over the news... again....Osama bin Laden! AAAAK! (</strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Again...sarcasm, people</span><strong>.)</strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>......it's curious that we don't seem to care much what Osama bin Laden's doing until the popularity polls for the war are down, do we? ;) </strong><br /><br /></span>I can hear it now...<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"><strong><span style="color:#6666cc;">James Earl Schlub says</span></strong>:</span> "<strong>Well, golllll damn, Betsy....there's dat funny-lookin' A-rab feller with a sheet on his head again, the one who killed on them people on 9/11? Where's he been, that sneaky critter, I almost forgot about him. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Wait, didn't The Lord's Holy Henchman, Dubya, tell us.......wuddn't he like...the King of Eye-Rock or something and that's why we're there? </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Yeah, that General Patsy-Us was talking about them EvilDoers in Eye-Rock on the TEE vee, last week. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>DAMN that Evil Eye-Rock with their...evil...eyes...tryin' to be' all...evil....and stuff. Honey, get my checkbook and my shotgun..."</strong><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>Betsy Lou Schlub says</strong></span>: <span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong>OMG!!!....*</strong><span style="color:#666666;">Mia Farrow-fist-in-mouth</span><strong>*... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA...oh, hep me, lil sweet baby Jesus lying in your manger! Hep me, Dwight D. Eisenhauer, hep me General Patton! Hep me Joseph McCarthy...hep me Andrew McCarthy!!! Whatta we do, daddy, whatta we do??? </strong></span><br /><strong><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span></strong><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;"><span style="color:#333333;"><strong>Southernspeak4 says: </strong></span><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong>Well, Schlubs, let's all run right out and buy our plastic and duct tape *<span style="color:#666666;">eye roll</span>* (....</strong>which would perhaps protect me from all rational thought, but certainly not against Anthrax<strong>).</strong> </span></span><br /><strong></strong><br /><span style="color:#666666;">I wish we WOULD go after OBL for a change, instead of Iraq, there's a novel idea...since it IS called the "war on terrorism" and he was the actual terrorist. </span><br /><span style="color:#666666;"></span><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;"><span style="color:#666666;">"Men of God"... chosen leaders to fight the "evildoers?" I think not...</span> </span><br /><br />"<span style="color:#3366ff;">Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. <strong><em>Ye will know them by the fruits of their labor</em></strong></span>... "<strong> Matthew 7:16</strong><br /><br /><strong>Dudes....this fruit you keep feeding us costs a bundle and it tastes like crap, it's rotten...and going to get it is killing our young. Were not even sure why we're still eating this shit or ever were. In fact, the only people that seem to enjoy this shit are the oil companies and...well, YOU and your buddies.:)</strong><br /><br />>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>"<span style="color:#cc6600;">Uh, this is Captain Elizabeth Swan, speaking to you from the Friendly, Tolerant Skies (mostly) of Moderately Liberal Airlines...</span></strong></span><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Just a friendly reminder to fasten your seat belts, ladies and gentleman...</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>...and put your tray tables in their upright and locked positions....</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>we're coming in for a landing....</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>......it's time for social change...."</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>At last.</strong><br /></span><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>:) </strong></span>Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-48811208173906647912007-09-06T06:06:00.000-07:002009-04-23T07:06:53.842-07:00Don't Forget "Talk Like a Pirate Day," September 19th<strong>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>EDITING NOW COMPLETE.</strong></span><br /><br />...this made ME giggle anyway...but then, it IS me, after all.;)<br /><br />This is how cool my priest (and friend), Jan, is...<strong>***don't read if you can't mix spirituality/religion with a sense of humor. </strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdGC7jSTrk3gZflFP_6opYrH9akj2XNVHtTZazH1cRqEcJLnHz7u_1sVqywaNDvtOhO_yH190fFypi5ey4FVxwVlxri6Zn5OKZb_gpFODkhXg547ZnONJwwMbFoM0YaAyOaOr9f5BDehX/s1600-h/013_13_00.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111348939854861490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdGC7jSTrk3gZflFP_6opYrH9akj2XNVHtTZazH1cRqEcJLnHz7u_1sVqywaNDvtOhO_yH190fFypi5ey4FVxwVlxri6Zn5OKZb_gpFODkhXg547ZnONJwwMbFoM0YaAyOaOr9f5BDehX/s200/013_13_00.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />She sent me this rewording of the liturgy on that day to read to McK, who is a die-hard Johnny Depp/Pirates of the Caribbean fan.<br /><br />I dared her to actually do it on that Wednesday night service and not say a word as to why... just act like it's a completely normal occurrence...but she WON'T, God...bless her.<br /><br />What if I provide the dreadlocks and hat? No?;)<br /><br />Here's a snippet of it....<br /><br /><strong>The Great Thanksgiving:</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><em>The celebrant says to the people:</em><br /><strong><em>The Lord be wi' ye</em></strong><br /><strong><em></em></strong><br /><em>People:<strong> Aye, and also wi' ye....</strong></em><br /><em></em><br /><em>After breaking of the consecrated bread, the </em><em>celebrant faces the people and continues: </em><br /><em></em><br /><em><strong>Da gifts o' God fer the people o' God, take 'em in rememberin' Cap'N Christ sank down to Davy Jones' locker fer ye, and feed on the lad in ye hearts by faith.</strong></em><br /><strong><em></em></strong><br /><strong><em>....On the night he be givin' over to sufferin' and Davy Jones' locker, Cap'n Christ took the hard tack, and when he'd beat the weevils out, he gave thanks and broke it and gave it to his maties, and said, "Take and be eatin', this be my body; do it in 'membrance o' me..."</em></strong><br /><strong><em></em></strong><br /><em>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>></em><br /><em></em><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">The following was my response:<br /></span></strong><br />... she'll get a giggle out of it... I think your sermon should start like this... "<strong>Aye, ye scalawag Pharisees that call yeselves the Christian Coalition and His Majesty's Royal Navy...take the barnacle out ye own eye...."</strong> ;)-----<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">...and her response...</span></strong><br /><br />.I'll do it! (Just kidding...but I wish I were brave enough ..)<br /><br />Thanks for the laugh.<br /><br />Hope McK feels better soon.<br /><br />Blessings, J+<br /><br /><strong>I wish she would...but "people like us bleedin' heart liberal" pirates already take heat in this conservative, southern, back-asswards town.</strong><br /><strong></strong><br />Btw, McK just has a bad cold, no worries...I know you all were.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKU6BpK-ExUA0pQOfvpssAAXjMM5KDbfrsZCTOluL2cRT-WLQaxrkJwU7z3TUPexFpe4P_9bQy_g25ShG9N6nBWLXSBDPnYwhZSuLfFEfgLKjEMRelyOLB6dxa7OofPNHny2gcSua4mSk5/s1600-h/revj.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111346221140563074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKU6BpK-ExUA0pQOfvpssAAXjMM5KDbfrsZCTOluL2cRT-WLQaxrkJwU7z3TUPexFpe4P_9bQy_g25ShG9N6nBWLXSBDPnYwhZSuLfFEfgLKjEMRelyOLB6dxa7OofPNHny2gcSua4mSk5/s200/revj.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Gonna miss you, Rev J...you rock it old school.:)Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-47127315697291882092007-09-05T15:09:00.001-07:002009-04-23T07:16:45.132-07:00MY Expressive and Creative Content...hehehe<span style="color:#333333;"><strong>Below is the end result of reporting "Terms of Service" violations to Blogger, after I reported the second round of chronic ID impersonation... (</strong><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;">see examples, this same ID name, this time with no right-clicked/saved picture of me, on the blog links in the post below this one</span>...<span style="font-size:130%;">note the number of profile hits on the fake versus the number in my real ID</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>).</strong></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color:#333333;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><strong>...followed by my "creative impersonation" of their response letter....;)</strong></span><br /><br /><em><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Hello,Thank you for your note. </strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#000099;"><strong></strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Please note that Blogger is a provider of content creation tools, not a mediator of that content. We allow our users to create blogs, but we don't make any claims about the content of these pages. We strongly believe in freedom of expression, even if a blog contains unappealing or distasteful content or presents unpopular viewpoints. </strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#000099;"><strong></strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>We realize this may be frustrating and we regret any inconvenience this may cause you. In cases where contact information for the author is listed on the page, we recommend you working directly with this person to have the content in question removed or changed.In cases where the author is anonymous, please note that in accordance with US state and federal law, it is Blogger's policy to only provide a user's contact information pursuant to a valid third party subpoena orother appropriate legal process</strong></span>.</em><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong><em>Blogger<br /></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><strong>Well...here is my "<span style="color:#3333ff;">creative impersonation</span>" (cough, cough)... excuse me...I mean "<span style="color:#3333ff;">creative interpret</span><span style="color:#3333ff;">ation</span>" of your words</strong>:<br /></span><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">Hi...what us your name again? </span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></em><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>We believe in "freedom of expression;" even if one (or more) blogger's "freedom of expression" smear campaign all over the net resulted in the oppression of YOUR "freedom of expression" and right to defend yourself, and the ability to blog anywhere, any time, without being followed shortly thereafter by "freely expressive" harrassment by the other blogger's mob in the comments section.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>We have a difficult-to-find, useless "report abuse" system. This is a site at which you can bubble in an area of concern, such as impersonation, for your own amusement. This is simply to give you, our valued blogger (what was your name again?) a false sense control over your environment; and besides, people just like bubbles. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em><span style="color:#000000;">Everyone likes bubbles. We are very proud of our bubbles. People have remarked on our bubbles. Do YOU like our bubbles? Give us some feedback...we care about what you think here at Blogger</span>. <span style="color:#000000;">What was your name again?</span></em><br /><em></em><br /><em>In other words, we have all the power, you have none...nanny, nanny boo boo. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Though we have the power to restrict illegal activity such as identity impersonation on Blogger, we're not going to and you can't make us, There's nothing you can do about it. </em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><em></em></span></strong><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong><em>We take no responsibility for our ineptitude or general lack of foresight when we instituted this site.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>In short, we will make no effort whatsoever to rectify any of these inherent problems now, or at any time, in the near or distant future. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>However, we wrote you a nice note back with a friendly greeting, which should suffice to make us appear responsive, along with the standard bullshit that hides behind the first amendment to the Constitution. </em><br /><em></em><br /></strong><em><strong>(</strong><span style="color:#000000;">Actually, we enjoy watching this shit because we got tired of watching porn, playing with our Star Wars action figures, and playing quarters in the back room instead of repairing one of our servers, and we decided to watch someone be harrassed for fun</span><strong>!) </strong></em><br /><em></em><br /><strong><em>Otherwise, haveanicedaybuhbyenow:) </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Blogger</em><br /></strong></span><br />Do ya like MY "freedom of expression?" But...have a nice day.:)Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627134110690292594.post-24963298530517904732007-09-02T14:07:00.000-07:002009-04-16T08:22:30.823-07:00"Hatshepsut Was Here"<br /><br />... despite frantic efforts to "chisel away" her place from historically-accurate written record ...... & attempts to defile her true image....<br /><br />Centuries later, she was found in a relatively modest tomb, wrapped in royal linen; a pleasant-yet-determined countenance, a clenched hand where a scepter had once been.<br /><br />She had died from natural causes, in the end; having bowed out gracefully; allowing others to misunderstand & judge mercilessly, not having enough information. She let them think whatever they would.<br /><br />There was no gold; no other distinguishing accoutrements of royalty; thieves robbed her of any remaining traces of her previous status, desecrating her remains.<br /><br />All previous propaganda had finally been disproven; her actions better understood with more information.<br /><br />She was remarkably well-preserved, of course,;) completely restored, & finally resumed her rightful place in history.<br /><br />The End.Southernspeak4http://www.blogger.com/profile/07985179323016340204noreply@blogger.com