Enter Area 51

I recently read an article on Facebook Envy. Apparently some people get really depressed because they see all these wonderful pictures on other people's pages and start to see themselves as inadequate. I had to laugh. Whereas I do post things about my family of whom I am immensely proud, the majority of the stuff on my FB page is a bunch of schlock that I barf out of my brain. Or as I like to call it, cerebral emesis. Most of the posts are about my questionable choices and face-palm moments. Who else would post about pulling a shard of glass from your foot only to drop it back on the floor never to be found again, or the mysterious yet gross thing my dog dragged in the house and dropped on my bedspread? In fact, I would bet your house on the fact people come here to feel BETTER about themselves. My peeps don't come here to feel jealous, they come here to feel superior and l̶a̶u̶g̶h̶ ̶a̶t̶ ̶m̶e̶ laugh with me. So I pause for you to read the article posted below,The 6 Stages of F...

I'm going to Chicago soon and I want to eat something I haven't had in a very long time.... a Chicago Red Hot and drag it through the garden. The topic of ketchup on a red hot has been debated. Here is my take. The Declaration of Independence outlines 3 unalienable rights; Life, Liberty and the Persuit of Happiness. So I believe as an American and a Chicagoian that it is your right to use ketchup to desecrate your hot dog and disgrace your family for generations to come. But now Chicago's Dog House has come up with a new menu item I must try. The Blagojevich Hot Dog. It's a Chicago Style Red Hot but with ketchup. It comes with a side of Fedral Prison.

A few days ago I was changing a light bulb when the old one slipped through my fingers, hit the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. I swept it up and wore shoes in that room for a few days. Wouldn't you know it, today I was walking through that room when lo and behold I stepped on a piece of glass. Fudge, fudge, fudge no matter how I put down my foot it hurt my boo-boo. So I hobbled over to my flashlight, then waddled over to my glasses then gimped over to the bathroom because it has good light. I contorted myself into a rather dodgy position to see the sole of my foot then shined the light on it. There on the heel was the offending piece of glass. Did I go get the tweezers? Nay. I am the woman who did half of her own root canal. I am the skydiver who jumps from airplanes. I am going to be a bad-ass and yank it out myself. So I started the ceremony of flicking it with my finger. Yeah, no, didn't work. Next I used the nails of my thumb and swear finger to pick the glas...

Night Fever dance_Saturday Night Fever youtube.com It's funny how these things work. I was thinking about the BeeGees today and Saturday Night Fever. I was thinking about how despite their popularity they didn't sing their songs as much as whine them. I mean does anyone really know the words to Night Fever? When ever I'm singing one of their songs to myself I pretty much just sing the cadence and for the actual words I use gibberish. For example,  here is what Stayin' Alive sounds like in my internal dialogue....whether you're a brother away from your a mother. I'm a stayin alive, stayin alive. Mean city slicker when everyone a wickets I'm stayin alive staying alive..... Get it?Then I grab a can of paint and pretend I'm strutting around Manhattan. Next I started singing Night Fever the same way. Don't get me started on my version of that. Night Fever had a cool Hustle (70's line dances were called Hustles to those not in the know) called The B...

More than a year ago I posted that my dear doggie, Kira had passed away. Usually within a few days of a pet’s death I post a tribute to them, but I never did with Kira. She certainly deserved it since she was a faithful member of our family for many years. But after losing her soul-mate, Abby, 7 months earlier I just couldn’t do it. The words entered my head within hours of her slipping away, but I just couldn’t get them out into the world. A few days ago a picture of Kira popped up in my FB feed. It was from 3 years ago celebrating her birthday. I took it as a sign that perhaps it was time….. Kira’s story with us began in Sept of 2000 when my friend and then neighbor knocked on my door announcing excitedly “I found a puppy, I found a puppy what do I do?” I went to her house to see the 2 month old stray. And there she was, flea infested, so thin you could count her ribs, belly swollen with worms. Clearly she was scared to death by the way she was shaking. We gave her a fle...

Ohjeeze, I need to learn a whole new social media plus how to do HTML and add something to my sidebar? HUH?