Category: etc.

HELLOOOOO!! Hey, keep scrolling after this one — I’ve been unusually prolific! But first ….

It’s me birthday!!

Feel free to:

— do nothing, because really, what’s the big whup?

or, OR, alternatively …. DO something with your life — for God’s sake! — like:

— send me birthday greetings
— ‘sing’ me a song
— post a link to something you think I’d like, silly, serious, anything! I’ll even take off the “put-a-link-in-my-comments-and-go-straight-into-moderation” thingie I have. Just for one day. (Can’t wait for all that Puh-orn!)
— tell me a funny story
— tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies like I’m wonderful
— and funny
— and smart
— and wise
— and not self-absorbed
— at all
— haha

These lyrics are almost unbearably beautiful ….. they just ache with longing …..

“Dancing Shoes”

Dancing shoes
On the wall above your bedside
Saw it all as we performed
Our pirouette
Fleshes fused
As the flicker of the candles
Threw upon the wall
A single silhouette

Tu es dan ma coeur et dans ma téte

Dancing shoes
We have loved on distant beaches
Where the winter never reaches
There we fell
Dying swan
On the dawn you danced before me
Though your eyes were dark and stormy
I stood still

Qui peut dire le faux et le réel?

Dancing shoes
Though the distances divide us
There’s a paradise inside us
We can’t lose
Me and you
Dance a pas de deux
Forever
And I pray you never
Shed your dancing shoes

“a flapper and her beau”

One of the most harrowing things I’ve read in a while. It is NOT for the faint of heart, but it is so worth the read.

Thank you for sharing this, Missy.

Help me! Helpme!! Helpmeee!! I need etiquette advice, peeps, and I need it no later than Thursday afternoon (PST), July 27th.

Here’s the situ in brief:

Good friend whose husband is out of town invites MB and me to dinner with her and her daughter for the evening of Thursday, July 27th. (That might be today for many of you reading this.) She’s making fish. Yummy. We’re going to watch “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.” Even yummier. So I call today to confirm, etc., leave a “so-looking-forward-to-it” type of message. Because we are. That ain’t no lie.

Later, I come home to her return message. She’s so excited, too. And still there’s the yummy fish. Oh, and pictures of her recent trip to Tuscany, which I’d requested to see because I’m a bit manic about Florence and Michelangelo and the Duomo and all THAT. I like to see people’s travel pictures. I’m weird. So, okay: Pictures — good!

Oh …. and then there’s …. uh …. this: “Well, my mother-in-law is coming over to spend the night, so she’ll be there, too.”

Um, what?

This is a pet peeve of mine, peeps. It’s a bit of a social bait and switch. Joey did this to us many, many, man-n-n-ny times. It goes like this: You think you’re getting some wonderful, long-awaited quality time alone with your good friends. You’re excited. At the very last minute, you are told that people you don’t even know or worse, people you don’t even LIKE, will also be there. You are never told this in advance. No. That’s not how Social Bait and Switch is played. The essence of the game is a last-minute sneak attack on your good graces.

And I do not have any good graces. We know this about me.

Oh, and may I say that only my rich friends have ever done this? I don’t know what THAT means, really (well, I have a theory, not now, though), but it’s a pattern, you see.

So, what’s a no-good-grace girl to do at this point? I have problems hanging with my own mother. I have problems hanging with my mother-in-law. I just … have problems! I’m socially marginal and I just know I’ll act weird and wrong around someone who is a parent figure type — because I always do! I was raised to be so durned polite to ’em, it’s flat-out annoying.

My friend is not going to get the Tracey she knows and tolerates well enough. Oh, no. She’s going to get some bizarre, uptight, yes, ma’amer who only speaks when spoken to and then will act like some latter day Eddie Haskell, obsequiously encouraging even more fascinating stories about cousin Bertie’s giant goiter. It’s sick, I tells ya. Sick. And it doesn’t help that my friend said, “The old girl needs some entertainment and you two are hilarious!” Yes. Goiter talk IS hilarious.

WHY — OHHH, WHHY — DIDN’T YOU TELL US ABOUT MOTHER-IN-LAW BEFORE?? Because now — and here’s the absolute worst part of Social Bait and Switch — if you cancel or admit you’re uncomfortable or do something, anything, to get out of it, YOU look like an ass. You do. And you didn’t do anything. Well, except freak out about the switcheroo.

What I’d SO looked forward to as a quiet evening with my friend, having dinner, talking, watching spaghetti westerns, has morphed into something else altogether. And in her defense, I think mother-in-law deserves her own quality time unimpeded by our presence, so it cuts both ways, really. It’s like trying to kill two birds with one social stone. Or yummy fish.

So ….. what would you do? Have people done this to you? And if so, what have you done? Maybe it’s just me. I’m willing to concede that it may just be ME. In situations like this, I tend to revert back to my latent shyness and become very uncomfortable. So you’re witnessing a bit of a social anxiety attack.

Gimme your input. PLEASE!

Prevent utter social mayhem and meltdown NOW!!!

From Sheila, a meme for fun. Oh, and because I’m lazy. Some questions are edited because I either didn’t like them or didn’t feel like answering them.

What curse word do you use the most?
Crap. Yes, it’s true, peeps. Sorry. I’m also fond of “Damn Ass Damner” only because I remember listening to a college friend fighting with her boyfriend in the green room and — (everything always happened in that green room) — anyway, she was struggling for words, trying to think of something truly AWFUL she could call him, and out sputtered, “You Damn …. Ass …. Damner!!” Here they were, openly fighting, and everyone listening just started howling because, well, her face was SO raging and serious and the words were so …. inadequate to match it. I mean, “Damn Ass Damner”?? Still, it went on to become a verrry popular phrase in our Theater Department.

Do you own an iPod?
Yes.

Flip flops or sneakers?
Both, I guess, but the flip-flops canNOT have that between the toe thing. I have a weird phobia about that.

Would you rather take the picture or be in the picture?
Take.

What was the last movie you watched?
The Matador

Do any of your friends have children?
Most of them. Next question.

Has anyone ever called you lazy?
Yes.

Do you ever take medication to help you fall asleep faster?
No.

What CD is currently in your CD player?
Um, Rita Springer?

Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk?
Not big on either, thanks.

Has anyone told you a secret this week?
Um, no.

Have you ever given someone a hickey?
Si.

Who was the last person to call you?
My friend K.

Do you think people talk about you behind your back?
Yes. People need interesting things to talk about, no?

Did you watch cartoons as a child?
Yes, but I had to do it on the sly.

How many siblings do you have?
2

Are you shy around the opposite sex?
Not usually.

What movie do you know every line to?
I know a lot of dialog from “Singin’ in the Rain.”

Do you own any band t-shirts?
No. That’s precious.

What is your favorite salad dressing?
Balsamic vinaigrette.

Do you read for fun?
Absolutely.

Do you cry a lot?
No.

Who was the last person to text message you?
What’s that now?

Do you have a desktop computer or a laptop?
Laptop

Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoos?
No.

What is the weather like?
Hot, humid, and drizzly.

Would you ever date someone covered in tattoos?
Uh, hm. Well, is his face un-inked? I’d like to see me some face, please. And, you know, how’s that actually gonna look when you’re reeallly old and decrepit and, as My Beloved says, your “entire body is scrotum”??

I’m just saying, is all.

When was the last time you slept on the floor?
Gah! Who knows?

How many hours of sleep do you need to function?
Eight-ish.

Are you in love or lust?
Both. Uh-huh. Damn skippy!

Are your days full and fast-paced?
Some yes, some no.

Do you pay attention to calories on the back of packages?
Sometimes.

How old will you be turning on your next birthday?
You are impertinent, Memey, and a disappointment to your mama.

Are you picky about spelling and grammar?
Yes, I can be quite anal about it, actually. I am nothing if not FUN.

Have you ever been to Six Flags?
I have not, actually. Wow.

Do you get along better with the same or opposite sex?
Um, both.

Do you like cottage cheese?
If there’s fruit on it.

Do you sleep on your side, tummy, or back?
Back and side, I guess.

Have you ever bid for something on eBay?
Yes. It was something no one else wanted. And, wow, I won!!

Do you enjoy giving hugs?
“Enjoy giving hugs”? I don’t “enjoy” the way that’s phrased, actually, as if my hugs are some huge gift to humanity. Uh, I’m not all that huggy. And I’ve noticed certain men of the Christian persuasion are actually afraid to hug me, resorting to that “safe” sideways hug because they’re afraid of my big boobs. Men who do this: What? Are you in 7th grade?? You need to MAN UP RIGHT NOW! Seriously, I cannot help that I am gifted in this particular way. God’s ways not being ours and all that, so calm the hell down and give a girl a real hug — OR DON’T DO IT AT ALL, YOU JUNIOR HIGH WIENERS!! Sheesh.

What song did you last sing out loud?
The “Crack on with it, Crackie” song. Uhh, it’s a song we made up at work. I cannot explain it, but it passes the time and keeps me from killing myself and others. So it has innate value, you see.

What is your favorite TV show?
Right now, it’s Project Runway, which they rerun on NBC, luckily, because NO, I don’t have cable!! Oh, and Rockstar Supernova starring BillyClint HowardZane.

Which celebrity, dead or alive, would you want to have lunch with?
Oh, see, now, I hate that because as a Christian I’m supposed to say “Jesus,” right? Well, guess what? I can have lunch with Jesus any day — eat a tuna sandwich, open up my Bible, and I’m having lunch with Jesus. So don’t email me any grief because I give a different answer. There are many, but today, I’m gonna say Abraham Lincoln.

Last time you had butterflies in your stomach?
I don’t know. Does a stomach ache count?

What one thing do you wish you had?
I want things that aren’t things.

Favorite lyrics?
Again, there are many, but these have always haunted me:

Seldom seen
A scarecrow’s dream
I hang in the hopes of replacement
Castles tall
I built them all
But I dream that I’m trapped in
the basement.

And if you ever hear me calling out
And if you’ve been by paupers crowned
Between the worlds of men and make-believe
I can be found.

Plans I’ve made
A masquerade
Fading in fear of the coming day
Heroes’ tales
Like nightingales
Wrestle the wind as they run away.

And if you ever hear them calling out
And if you’ve been by paupers crowned
Between the worlds of men and make-believe
I can be found.

Garden gate
An empty plate
Waiting for someone to come and fill
Scarecrow’s dreams
Like frozen streams
Thirst for the fall
But they’re running still.

And if you ever hear me calling out
And if you’ve been by paupers crowned
Between the worlds of men and make-believe
I can be found.

All right, peeps. It’s one week til July 31st — my birthday. Ooh, and Harry Potter’s.

(But don’t tell Joey it’s Harry’s birthday, too. She’d freak. Also: Don’t tell her about the lightning bolt-ish scar on my forehead. Or that I once stopped a snake from biting me just by chatting him up a bit, real friendly-like.)

Anywho … I need your help. Or rather, My Beloved needs your help. You see, we recently had this conversation:

ME: I thought of something I want for my birthday.

MB: Okay. Great. What is it?

ME: Well, um, I want a cake.

MB: Okay. We’ll have a cake.

ME: Uh, no. I think maybe I’d like you to make me a cake. That would be really cool.

(These were words of death, apparently.)

MB: Um, oh. (air growing heavy with cake anxiety) What kind of cake?

ME: Oh, you know. ANY kind.

(WHAT?! Like I’m so easy-going and mellow?? Do I even know myself??)

He did snort at that, actually.

So, it all boils down to this: My Beloved needs your recipes or recommendations. HELP HIM HELP ME! Or something like that.

Now I do not actually have a favorite cake, per se — I like many kinds. However, anything containing the following ingredients will be rejected out of hand …. and stomach:

1. Carrots
2. Bananas
3. Zucchini
4. Walnuts
5. Dried fruit or
6. Potatoes … for extra smooth ‘n’ starchy flavor! Do not even attempt to sway me one of those bizarro “the secret ingredient is potato!” cakes. I heard of ’em, seen ’em, even, but I will NOT eat ’em.

Basically, I WANT ME SOME CAKE, NOT A SALAD OR SIDE DISH!

SO BRING ON SOME SWEET CAKEY GOODNESS!!!

My Beloved will be checking back here for your valuable input. You can leave links to good online recipes, too, just know that if you do, your comment will go into moderation first because I’m just a big ol’ despot and history’s worst monster.

I’ll keep you updated this week on Cake Bake 2006!!!

My Beloved thanks you. I thank you. My stomach thanks you.

My niece, The Button is almost 2 1/2 now. She prays every night before bedtime. The other evening, my brother says, she was praying for “Gampa’s work.” (Gampa is grandpa from her mom’s side.)

She paused for a moment, then mused:

“I don’t work. I just read books and play with toys all day.”

…. having to pick up the slack for certain geeks at work who absolutely hafta, hafta HAFTA leave early to don their Darth Vader costumes and race on down to the freaky geeky zoo that is ComicCon International.

Watch out, world. They are storming the streets. In capes. And masks.

And tights.

From the pen of Florenz Ziegfeld himself: Ziegfeld on his girls, starring his girls, edited by moi.

Morning Telegraph 1925

Beauty, of course, is the most important requirement and the paramount asset of the applicant. When I say that, I mean beauty of face, form, charm and manner, personal magnetism, individuality, grace and poise …

These are details that must always be settled before the applicant has demonstrated her ability either to sing or dance. It is not easy to pass the test that qualifies a girl for membership in a Ziegfeld production …

… but I am frank to say that once she has done so, much of the element of doubt is removed so far as the future success of her career before the footlights is concerned.

There is a prevalent impression that once a girl is enlisted under the Ziegfeld standard, her troubles are over and her hard work is ended …

What a mistake!

Let us hope that for many it does mean the end of trouble so far as earning a livelihood is concerned, that it means happy and comfortable home living honestly earned. But there are other troubles ahead for her, and plenty of hard work ….

A Ziegfeld production is no place for a drone or an idler. Often are the times when you who read these words are just opening your eyes in the morning or are enjoying your breakfast and the early news of the day, that the girls of a Ziegfeld production are busy as bees …

on the stage of an empty theatre …

if indeed they have not already put in an hour or more in striving to come nearer to the perfection …

which is expected of them before the footlights. Yes, there is plenty of hard work for them in addition to that which they do when they appear, smiling and happy …

when the curtain goes up. Giving a performance is the least of their worries.

Let us grant that a girl qualifies for one of my productions. It is interesting to note what follows. First, it is clearly outlined to her what she is expected to do. She may be impressed at the outset that the impossible is required …

but honest application and heroic perseverance on her part plus skillful and encouraging direction by experts very seldom fail to achieve the desired results.

But it is only through constant, faithful endeavor by the girl herself that the goal eventually is reached ….