The Manwich Experiment

I like men. I like men a lot. And a man in a sandwich, somehow sounds appetizing. A nice crusty bread, maybe some bacon and a Beckham. This certainly sounds like a meal fit for a Seductress.

Beckham + BACON =
OMGWTFHEAVEN!!!

(see I even made that "bacon" color for ya!)



Wait, I got really sidetracked for a moment.

Let me start over in a pure, sweet "I was raised in Church" kind of way.

We didn't eat many things out of the ordinary growing up. Dad loved a good steak, kids loved a prodigy "Chefboy" and his rousing rings of Ardee. But I think that was about the only processed food type of thing we ate. Mom cooked her specialty "tuna casserole" a lot. A lot, did I mention we had "tuna Casserole" a lot? We did. We had it a lot!! Which I actually kind of liked until one summer day while out on my Grandpa's rabbit farm, I believe it was my brother that said:

"You know Boom-Boom head, Mom's "TUNA" casserole is actually made with RABBITS!!"

I think there even was a visual demonstration of him picking up a cute, little, white, fluffy, VICTIM and as it wiggled it's loppy ears and twitched it's cute button nose at me, it plead NOT to become Mom's "It's not really tuna, casserole".

Ever since that day, I threw up a little in my mouth, and my brother tried to hide a belly laugh, when that casserole appeared in front of us.

But there was no Spam (the horror!!!) no pop-tarts (except Thanksgiving morning while watching the parade, the heavens opened up on us and it rained a pop-tart!), no Slim Jim's (I love Slim Jim's!! I even made up a country song about Slim Jim's- It was about a single girl in a gas station store around Corn Nut's (hillbilly guys) and cheez curls (jock heads) until her Slim Jim walked in!! But he had a Sweettart (flusie gal) with him, so she settled with Budweiser (the beer, no human compares). We were allowed no soda (urp), no potted meat (thank goodness) BUT-------NO MANWICH!! (see how I pulled you back in to the plot of the post? I am a freaking genius!! Say it with me....G-E-N-I-U-S!! ;} )

I always saw those commercials of a happy family sitting down together at a round 70's style table, with wood paneling behind them, wearing orange clothes and dad ALWAYS had a thick brown mustache, (does this show my age???) They all were busy laughing because little Johnny had Manwich all over his face and needed yet ANOTHER paper towel. The Mom would shake her head at him sweetly. I never really thought THAT was a LOL- ROFL- LMAO situation, but apparently, it ONLY is IF you are eating Manwiches.

I never bought Manwich. I always passed by it and thought of little Johnny and wondered where he was today, and if he was single, and still cute, and learned some basic eating skills, and if he still liked it when people ruffled his hair and touched his nose lightly when he did something "cute" at the dinner table. Because that would be a catch right there!!!!

Maybe not.

So yesterday after being at the doctor from 2-7 because apparently I make a fine specimen, and then spending another hour getting prescriptions all while accompanied by a poor little bored "I already colored da whole doctor bed paper mom!!! I don't want to color anymore!!!" 4 year old. I was tired. I even I brought my little electronic Q20 game and Traxx and me went through the whole animal world and had started on vehicles until it flubbed. It had gotten every one right until we were on car and it said "mini-van". I said: "well that's close enough right?" It wasn't. Traxx was miffed, how could it have the nerve to guess "mini-van" when it was CLEARLY A CAR?? And earlier it had guessed "Giraffe" when it was SUPPOSED to be a Zebra!! Oye. This caused a little Meltdown. (really??) I stopped it with 3 M&M's because I am a professional.

Instigator of meltdown!!

But we were starved and "cooking" was out of the question. So I picked up that "pre-made" tub of Manwich with a smile. The volume of the "conducive to a boring shopping trip" music over the Grocery Store radio increased as it played: "Eye of the Tiger" and I ran, boxeresquely to the register grabbing some "buns" on the way down the bread aisle (the men in the bread aisle had nice assets last night), and THEN I grabbed a package of bread rolls.

As we got home and I prepared a Manwich for me and Traxx, I was a little upset. This wasn't magic, there was no delectable aroma that would lift someone off the ground and float them to my kitchen while they frantically sniff the air.

Traxx took a bite and set it down. He looked at me with his big meatball brown eyes and said bluntly:

"Scrape the MAN off of mine."

"Oh you just want the "wich" not the "Man"? I repeated for my own selfish humor purposes.

"Yes please! MAN's are NASNEE!!"

I pondered the gravity of that statement and hallucinated that David Beckham had just jumped off the bun, flipped me off and walked out of my life forever.

*sniffle*

I do like bread tho.

It started with a fart....

Last night was a rough night. It started out OK. I had decided to go to bed early as I have been having headaches. The kids and I fell asleep at the same time, it was about 9:30. (I know, I know, I am one wild and crazy gal!! ( I say in my best Steve Martin voice).

I ended up having a nightmare. I was in a long hallway of a place I did not recognize, it was all a sparkling shade of white. I was scared for some reason and could not focus correctly on anything. Then I saw something smallish walking towards me wearing a red felt robe. It was some kind of creature walking on it's hind legs and I decided it would be smart to pick it up since I could not focus on what it was (dumb). I pick it up, pull it closer to my eyes and see that it had a weird deformed human face, red curly hair and a brown and white guinea pig body. It was terrifying so I dropped it and it made a harrowing "THUD" on the ground (which at this point had turned into AstroTurf...WTF?????).

It then shed the robe and made that guinea pig squeaky noise while running away on all fours. It would stop to look back at me and poop ping-pong balls. It was like: weeeeeee, weeeeee, squeaaaaak, (poops ping-pong balls) (stares at me) weeeeeee, squeeeeeeeak (poops, poops) stares...... it tries to run out of view, but keeps slipping on the Astro turf (which apparently now is wet). Now it starts slamming back and forth into the walls like the Atari video game "pong".

That's when all heck broke loose at the Seductress house.

I hear the loudest sleep-fart I have ever heard. It wakes me from my nightmare into another one that is my reality.

This is what happens:

A sleep-fart bellows from DramaGirl's ass in the next room over, I sit straight up sweating from my memory of the "Carrot Top-esque" guinea pig that shat ping-pong balls at me.

MsDebate screams at DramaGirl:

"Oh----MY-----GAWD!!!! THAT----IS-----DISGUSTING------REALLY????!!!!!!!!

DramaGirl who had miraculously slept through the volcanic eruption coming out of her rear, now gets woken up by MsDebate's rendering of judgement. This startles her. I hear the gasp of fear come out from DramaGirl and know to wait for the rumblings of an over-dramatic Oscar worthy performance (which starts with a low cry that quickly elevates when she decides she has to carry her lazy "offending butt" into my room for my comforting mommy arms).

I hug her as my heart starts to move into a regular rhythm. She goes to my bathroom and as I lay, I hear many rounds of encore farting. I deduce that she is dropping a bomb and realize that I will have to get up soon and help diffuse an overflowing toilet. I lay (waiting for the end) staring up at the ceiling as she apologizes about pooping (which is sweet in a weird way). I console her and beg of her not to use too much toilet paper and maybe I won't have to plunge at 2:30AM!!

I then hear Traxx ambling down the hallway whining. I speak to him but he does not answer and continues in the bathroom where DramaGirl is busy polluting the air.

He is still asleep at this point and drops his dinosaur skivveys quickly to relieve himself. DramaGirl realizes she is about to be pee'd on and screams (again in an over-dramatic way).

This wakes Traxx who now does his own rendition of an Oscar worthy crying performance, but he also has to pee very badly. He is a tired little boy, and is mad that his toilet is covered with sister! I have to pick him up (drippy, dangling member and all) and run to the other bathroom with him begging him to hold it. Thankfully he makes it, but is too upset to go back to his own bed because now, he is scared the "Nonsters" are gonna get him. He climbs in my bed and spends the rest of the night unconsciously slapping me around whilst I try to get back to my guinea pig nightmare, which in retrospect, was better than my reality nightmare.


sigh

My first book looked a little like THIS:

I remember as a kid I always knew what I wanted to do with my life. Besides kissing boys and singing, I always loved to write. Going through school I was that kid you hated because she got all giddy and excited when a writing project was given. Whatever it was, I loved the creativity.

In my first year of high school, I was introduced to a Graphic Arts Vocational program, I thrived there. I was able to make anything my heart desired. The teacher wasn't an overly structured teacher, and if you were a cute girl, you got special access to the presses and photography equipment and he gave you free reign (what? No one made out in the dark room!!).

At that time I babysat A LOT! I made business cards to propel me into the riches!! I also printed my first "book" there. It was supposed to be a kid's series of coloring books I could give to the kids I babysat, and the parents would think I was AWESOMESAUCE. I was.

I came up with a creatures named "Fraid-nots", these little guys were to teach kids how to rationalize situations to make them less scary. The first in the series was called: Here comes the Babysitter!! Mind blowing writing was included to get you on the seat of your chair. It was also illustrated by a boy I had a crush on. I tried to bolster my position with him by offering him a book deal. The drawings were strange, but I got to watch him doing them which made it all worth it. So with no further ado,,, I give you:

Here comes the Babysitter!!
By: me
(at age 15 almost 16!)




When my mommy and daddy go somewhere
they always leave me with a babysitter.
It's not that they don't love me, they just want to go
and have fun like we want to do.
(and come back wasted to pay the sitter entirely too much!!)


(this is me shoving dad out the door aren't I a vision??)

I'm one of the little furry creatures called
Fraid-not's. I get babysitters just like you do!!
I don't like it when my mommy leaves me.
I don't like it when my daddy leaves me.
But, I LIKE my babysitter!!
(is this the hook phrase?)


(This kid had cool posters!
And I hold my stomach while we play tic-tac-toe)


(look at my face, I look so happy here!! Is that hay in my mouth??
I must have been into "realistic" pony play back then, is that normal?)

If I ask her to she'll play with me!
Cars, blocks, coloring and reading,
my babysitter will do it all! She even gets
on her hands and knees to be my pony.
(oh that's what was happening, wiping brow)


I LIKE MY BABYSITTER!!
(gosh, who wouldn't!! She's a special gal that one!!)


(this is the gripping, emotional part of the book, kinda
like when Bambi's mom dies,
or when Nemo is the sole survivor out of 1.053 fish eggs)

I miss my mom. I miss my dad, and I am sad,
but do I cry? I don't cry no way fraid-not!!
(hook phrase alert!! Could THIS be it??)
'Cause when my babysitter comes, we
play a lot!!


(I have no boobs-and a water fountain on my head, but WOW,,
that's a FINE display of funny faces!!!!)

I like to play and make silly faces!!
SO DOES MY BABYSITTER!!
I like to sing and pretend to go places!!
SO DOES MY BABYSITTER!!


I like monsters big and mean!!
SO DOES MY BABYSITTER!!
(huh??? what?? No I don't!!)
I like cartoons and watching T.V.!!
(Yes, maybe, but only MTV 'cause
I can't watch it at my house
and Kip Winger is smokin' hot
and hairy,, just like me in this book!!!)
SO DOES MY BABYSITTER!!

I LIKE MY BABYSITTER!!
(really?? Geeze,, switch it up a bit!!)





Sometimes babysitters are short,
But they can be tall.
Some dress REAL nice,
and some dress funny.
They are all different
Just like us!!
(can YOU tell which is which? It's a tricky one I say,,,, tricky...
For bonus points, which one is the pedophile? I vote top left.)

When my babysitter tells me to go to bed
or take a nap, I do it.
(could the babysitter be trying to hypnotize the children?
I didn't put the part about NyQuil and taking your medicine in this book
that comes in the next book "Why am I so sleepy")

I don't cry no way fraid-not,
because my babysitter loves me a lot!!
(two Hook phrases??? GENIUS!!)

She only tells me to do things
that I need to do. She likes me and wants me
to be safe and get enough sleep to grow.
(damn dude, she downgraded you to "like" here,
she used to love you!!????
Now off to bed so she can call boys and raid the fridge!!)


(I look so sweet and concerned here,
look at that gash on his hand!! Is THAT a dog??
And why is it NOT HAIRY???)

When I get hurt my babysitter tells me everything is OK.
(it is, OK, it is ALL OK, drink more purple stuff now!
Your screaming is annoying!)
Sometimes I cry, but my babysitter always
knows makes me feel better!!

I LIKE MY BABYSITTER!!
(she used to like you too!!)


(aren't they a lovely family with a weird hairless mutant dog!!)

I know that when I wake up my mommy
and daddy will be there.
They will ask me if I had fun with the babysitter
and I will tell them absolutely!!
(because that's what she hypnotized you to say!!)

Because...

I LIKE MY BABYSITTER!!
(duh!!)



THE END!!

I even had a cool back cover with rave reviews!!!
Here's how it looked:

Maybe getting a babysitter seems scary and anything but fun,
but this Fraid-not knows how fun it really is!!!
"The Adventure of the Fraid-not's" series
and
"color-me" books presents:

Here comes the Babysitter!!


"Getting a babysitter never seemed so fun!!"
Innocent Bystander

"Exceptionally written and SUPERBLY illustrated!!"
W Cam-Artist
(dude-YOU ILLUSTRATED THIS, oh...I get it!!)

"Thought provoking with a deep intellectual plot!!"
Cindy Lewis- Airhead
(Ahahahaha-nailed the stuck up chick here!!)

"Wonderfully written, imaginative, purely a pleasure to read!"
Lopez- Graphic artist
(and my bestest friend and worst influence!)

"It was like real,,,,, Well, You know!!"
K Fletcher-Ditzy girl
(slaaaaam-----I did it AGAIN!!! Maybe I was a bit petty,, ya think?
Well, it was High school after all)

"Greatly enjoyable!!!! A good experience for adults and children!!"
J Phelps-Author
(dude- YOU WROTE THIS!!..oh...I get it!!)

"Two thumbs up!!!"
Siskel and Ebert-Movie Critics
(one is dead now I think, but they BOTH loved my book in '86!!)



I hope you enjoyed this little ride with me!!!

Who knew I would get such GREAT reviews!!

I did!!

(Oh,,, I get it!!!)

Now it's your turn to write a review of it!!!

The content of this post may not be suitable for young readers, follower discretion is advised.

PORN


Cat's watch it

Yes, Porn. I had never seen a porno before. I didn't really feel I was missing anything because I would rather experience sex form myself instead of watching two (or more) fumble at it to bad music, in a room with tacky decor.

What I have seen of various "Oops!! There's a sex tape" of the prettiest in Hollywood, do nothing to arouse me (although Tommie Lee did make me gasp a bit, is he human?).

So, I just sat ignorant (innocently sweet and angelically pure) to the pull porn has on some people. But being on the computer has changed all of that. Porn is readily available to me from my computer chair, and it's free!!

Free I say!!

I can cock my head and try to figure out angles and geometry, and if there were any fascinating tips, maybe I could steal some (although I already know all 101 from EVERY F'n COSMO mag issue).

The couples I see are frolicking freely around in the greenery, the sun gently hits their feathers, displaying a rainbow of prismatic beauty.

Are you confused?

Did you really think I would sit on my computer and look at porn all day? I am shocked at you for the assumption!

This is LIVE ACTION people!!!

Live 100% gritty, jaw dropping, "WTF was that?" questioning, unadulterated sex.

RAW SEX!

But it just so happens to be bird sex. Yes, I was shocked too because I had never seen birds having sex, have you? I mean we all KNOW they have to have it, somewhere, somehow, but it's just not something that is out there in the public for our viewing (ahem) pleasure(?)..

Seems this little patch of ground right outside of my large computer window alcove can only be compared to a Bird's rendition of the Playboy Mansion's infamously raunchy Grotto!

The grass is high and it is an area with a few raging citrus trees. It is kind of covered around, so I guess to a bird it would seem private. If you are avian in species and need a little afternoon delight, I could see you thinking this is a safe place to partake. Private, except for me.

Seems to be that as far as species, the crows get laid more often than not here in my "private screening room". I can even hear them vocalizing the "activity" here. The corner a few feet from me is ground zero.

I see this 2 to 3 times a week. I never knew.

Who knew?

You don't want to know.

Birds do it!!

One bird always looks very familiar as he has a funky wing and visits "The Grotto" very often, I have nick-named him "The Situation" (because I really do feel all crows are from Jersey!)

FIST PUMP!!!!!

"Snooki" comes here often as well, (that's what I call all the Guido crowettes doin' it up Grotto style).

Apparently ALL crows are DTF. (I didn't know what DTF meant either till I watched ONE episode of Jersey Shore, also, I am afraid I am a grenade and this has effected self worth, I am going to go tan now.....not really......)

Fuggetabout it....no really......forget it!!

Webbed feet and alien fungus....

I would like to formerly take the time to thank the universe for choosing me to laugh at. Yes, sometimes I feel like I am a recurring character acting infinitely on some mediocre sketch comedy show! Or perhaps being filmed for episodes of Punk'd'?

You know, come to think of it, ever since me and Ashton had our fling (and I finally accepted the fact that he has webbed toes), I have felt like that.

Not actually Ashton's feet

And although Ashton explained the whole marrying Demi thing as "wanting to find someone who came somewhat close to my beauty", I still have my doubts he has found it in her.

But this post is not about that.

Lately I have been involved with many things. Reality has decided that it is the shoe, and I am the piece of gum stuck on the bottom of it, right next to the dog crap (at least I'm not the dog crap). But, both of us, dog crap and gum, get pried out of the crevices of shoes with sticks or scraped off coldly on dewy wisps of grass and concrete steps. And since I am gum, I am a little bit flexible and stretchy when this happens, a quality that is helpful when things change everyday!!

I have had a few interviews and have taken every one seriously as a learning experience, even if the job does not work out. Lately there has been an interview for a "commission only" sales position. I am worried about a job like that because I am the only source of income in the house and the economy is still weak. I have faith in my selling abilities, but to not have any base pay in the situation I am in, petrifies me. Still, I had aced all of their tests and they wanted to see me in person. I dolled up and went in.

Before leaving the car I slapped myself in the face a few times to put the fear of failure in my heart. Plus, I feel natural blush looks fantastic and a nice slapping works well for that.

I go in and begin the interview with a nice young lady.

This is when the comedy sketch starts. Being a very visual person is tough sometimes. I remember being in school and daydreaming through a whole class simply because the person in front of me had a knotted up "rat" in her hair. My imagination questions things like that and I start diving off the deep end of sanity.

I think things like:

...if she were in a monkey society, she would be groomed everyday and this would never happen, also she would not have bugs, I wonder if she has bugs. But maybe, she IS in fact IN a monkey society, and it could be possible that she is the out-casted monkey of the group because her feet stink or she ate too many bananas at one time (that would be serious enough for monkey society abolishing, I suppose).

Then I realize that I have drifted off and missed all of the notes I need for the next day's test. When the the bell rings, in irony, I have to address monkey-girl, (who is fully prepared with precise notes because she is obviously the "organizational" monkey of the tribe), to be the one I beg (in the monkey language of "grooming") to let me copy her notes.

Strange to you right? Welcome to my normal.

So as I went in for the interview, I prayed everything would be in order and I could focus. But a few moments in, I notice it. I can't stop looking at it. A medium sized snitzel (dry booger hanging loosely from the roof of a nostril) was in her right nostril. It was flapping in and out at me with every breath she took. Before long, I am struggling to be engaged.

I think:

...if she were a smoker, and standing on a mountain, wearing an ornate feathered head piece, what smoke signals would her nose be giving with each breath? "The British are coming, The British are coming", no wait, that's not what an Indian would say at all! I try and refocus.

And then I think:

...maybe no signal would be given, because she looks like a mouth breather, she would emit rings, because if I smoked I would definitely emit rings because they are more festive, and I am not really even sure what a mouth breather looks like I just heard the word used in a Political smeary campaign commercial, I suppose one COULD look like her.

Oh, she just asked me a question.. ahem

"Uh, yes ma'am, that's right 21 years in sales and marketing, I love being able to work with people in my community! I did research about your company and the many accomplishments it has been recognized for, I am interested in knowing more about your products, I would love to take some brochures and literature with me if I may."

She is now thrown off track a bit.

The snitzel is still in prime position and I begin to feel like it may be something similar to a Morse code.

I think:

...her snitzel must be releasing valuable information to me about UFO's and such. Certainly, if I were an alien, I would find unique ways to transmit my vital messages to inhabitants of the planet I plan on overtaking. Why not a snitzel transmission? I would, however, have to really gather myself to actually receive this message because the "vehicle human" they have chosen to give the transmission wants to thwart my deciphering efforts and talk about business matters.

The world may just be doomed

Oh, she wants to bring me in to meet another manager, a man-a-ger (I stifle a laugh at my stupid joke), for more of an interview. This is great, I can be assured the visual defect of my brain will be cleared now. I follow her to his office that is heavily clad in cheap wood paneling (which brings back a memory of a huge ass splinter I got from paneling just like that as a kid, my eyes start to water).

There are two fungus green chairs (with suspicious "stains" in the middle of the seat, the origin of the stains are clearly metaphysical manifestations of single celled organisms sent to reproduce from the aliens). The gentleman seems nice enough, as I shake his hand and sit in an alien baby stained fungus chair, the snitzel leaves and me and the man-a-ger resume conversation.

I notice two things.

1. His shirt is unbuttoned one button to far and the gold chain and pendant he is sporting is tangled in black chest hair.
2. He had some sort of leafy green vegetable for lunch and has not looked in the mirror since.

It is at this point I realize: I could sit there all day and never hear one word this poor man is saying.

Again, if he were part of a monkey society, his chest hairs would be groomed and this might not have happened to me. Furthermore, I don't think monkeys eat leafy green vegetables, perhaps it is a clever alien camera filming me for a special episode of:

"Punk'd, Alien's Invade Earth Edition"

End of comedy sketch.

{{{{{facepalm}}}}}}

I am doomed.

I almost won the lottery!!...Fo Shizzle!!

Gratuitous "lucky cat" illustration
for my women followers

Gratuitous "lucky cat" illustration
for my men followers

YOU'RE WELCOME!!!

I have never played the lottery. It's not that I think it's really stupid or anything, I just never have done it. I take warnings seriously, like: "Do not curl hair while taking a bath", someone has already tested this out for me and apparently the outcome was not so desirable. So, "play the lotto responsibly" seems like a good suggestion, too. But,, I was thinking,,, I have had every color of Crapola Crayon in my crayon box lately, except "money green". Wouldn't it be plausible to think that the very first time I play, I win?

I mean Karma and luck eventually have to stop throwing up on me, right? (just nod your head and smile)

I wouldn't even change if I won, I would be more giving and less stressed and feel like I could breathe knowing my kids would be secure (but there would be a new Dodge Challenger with racing stripes in my driveway, I would give the Zhu Zhu car to charity, and I would have a temperature controlled green olive cellar and a sparkle vault, I deserve a sparkle vault dammit!!!).

Yes, I could be so lucky!

So I decided one day, spur of the moment, while I was getting gas, that I would buy 2 lotto tickets. And then I would grasp at every moment with anticipation waiting for the whorish looking lotto gal to roll my balls (that last sentence would make you laugh if I were a guy, right?). But having never purchased lotto tics before, I knew I had to play it all "suave like" with the clerk, I was cool and casual. I did a smooth rendition of: "$20 on pump 5!", and then Bam-O,, I throw in: "And 2 lotto tickets" while gesturing with a cocky over-secure head nod in the general direction of the lotto display area, capping the performance off with: "please, sir".

He knew I was a seasoned playa'. He was obviously in awe of my intuition of hitting a big lotto score. I am sure he felt humbled in my presence.

{{{{{sherereeop, sherereeop}}}}} (that is the sound of my winning tickets being dispensed, I am sure regular lotto buying people recognized it).

I then proceed to swipe my card in the thingy and I get reprimanded just a little harsher than seemed necessary by the clerk:

"YOU CAN NOT BUY LOTTO WITH PLASTIC!!!!"

"NO PLASTIC!!!!"

And he slams his fist on the plastic display case sending a shiver up my spine.

I felt like I was kicking a puppy or something, a really really cute puppy,, really dude, the veins on your forehead bulge FOR THIS?????

"Plastic-NO LOTTO!!" He reiterates with a shower of spit to accompanying the words this time.

I step back, a lotto virgin with her innocence raped,,,, my tickets tossed to the side of the register so harshly I could hear their cries of pain. I drop my head low in recognition of my sins and then weakly I continue:

(sniffle) "$20 on pump" ( I look outside straining to see the pump) "what was it, pump 5 right?"

"PUMP 5,, YES!!

The pissed off Dr. Suess character from the clerk's schizophrenic list of actors apparently joined the conversation at this point, as he added:

"YES,, PUMP 5!!"

I am discouraged and humiliated,,,, but then,,,, as minds that have lacked proper oxygen at one time or another often do, I start obsessing as I take the walk of shame past the Slim-Jims and Cheez-doodles.

What if that WAS the winning ticket.. And I have to go back and get it.. Karma is playing a trick on me and I have deciphered it, damn you Karma,, you are a tricky beast,, but not this time..... No,, not on MY watch!!! (only it didn't sound so cavalier and cool in my head, it was more squeaky than defiant)

But then,,,
(again)

What if that WAS Karma, in fact, saying something completely different? Something like: "buy the tickets at another vendor, my beautiful, sweet, sparkliscious creature of fantasy!!", and then THOSE would be the winning lotto numbers,, Yes, I think this sounds more like Karma, witty and anti-social with a dash of sarcasm and angst and an appreciation of all things sparkly..

The NEW ticket will be the winning ticket, it HAD to be, Karma is dancing in my face letting me know, Karma does love me!! ( I dance along with Karma for a few moments, it is both energizing and choreographed to "needing slouchy pink leg warmers and green tights" perfection, until I decide to go a different route and step up the dance with a torn white t-shirt, a chair and cold water, emulating that "Flashdance" scene precisely)

This was me..

This is a sign,, I MUST go to another vendor and buy the tickets, but which one Karma?? Which one?? I whisper now softly to Karma for a sign: "Could it be the vendor with the dairy queen? Cause that would be cool Karma!! It's like you would be serving up a blizzard and a bazillion!! Yes, Karma, I hear you, you want me to have a blizzard as a prelude to my life changing winnings!!"

But,,, I didn't get the tickets,,, and I didn't get the blizzard,,, turns out I only had enough money for toilet paper.

Today,,, as my children wipe their rears with my hopes and dreams..

What do I do??

..........well,,, I,,, I cry with each flush.....

CassaStar is HERE!!!!!!!!!

It's a grand thing when one of our own gets to live a dream. Bloggers get a bad rap sometimes as not being as credible as other writers. Pshaw, I have met some of the most talented writers here. I have often thought of inventing a aesthetically beautiful brainsucking contraption to release some "genius" into my own noggin.

Watch out Alex J Cavanaugh.......

You may be targeted as my first victim,,, er,,, Guinea Pig uh,, donor, YES!!!! Donor!!

Here is a bio for our newest published blogfamily member!!


Alex J. Cavanaugh has a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree and works in web design and graphics. He’s experienced in technical editing and worked with an adult literacy program for several years. A fan of all things science fiction, his interests range from books and movies to music and games. Currently he lives in the Carolinas with his wife.

His book is named: CassaStar and was released TODAY!!!!

Here is a written excerpt from the book as well as the trailer:


To pilot the fleet’s finest ship…

Few options remain for Byron. A talented but stubborn young man with a troubled past and rebellious attitude, his cockpit skills are his only hope. Slated to train as a Cosbolt fighter pilot, Byron is determined to prove his worth and begin a new life as he sets off for the moon base of Guaard.

Much to Byron’s chagrin, the toughest instructor in the fleet takes notice of the young pilot. Haunted by a past tragedy, Bassa eventually sees through Byron's tough exterior and insolence. When a secret talent is revealed during training, Bassa feels compelled to help Byron achieve his full potential.

As war brews on the edge of space, time is running short. Byron requires a navigator of exceptional quality to survive, and Bassa must make a decision that could well decide the fate of both men. Will their skills be enough as they embark on a mission that may stretch their abilities to the limit?



This is what the LIBERTY JOURNAL said about the book:

“…calls to mind the youthful focus of Robert Heinlein’s early military sf, as well as the excitement of space opera epitomized by the many Star Wars novels. Fast-paced military action and a youthful protagonist make this a good choice for both young adult and adult fans of space wars.” - Library Journal


I know what you are asking as you sit on the edge of your chair while biting the heads off of gummy bears.....

WHERE CAN I GET THIS BOOK AND SUPPORT MY BLOG FAMILIA????

(I didn't know you were Italian!!! That's pretty hot!!)

You can go here:

AMAZON - http://www.amazon.com/CassaStar-Alex-J-Cavanaugh/dp/0981621066

BARNES & NOBLE - http://search.barnesandnoble.com/books/e/9780981621067/?itm=1&USRI=cassastar

BAM - http://www.booksamillion.com/product/9780981621067?id=4581185563381#overview


Also available in eBook format for Kindle, iPad, Nook, and others


Congratulations to Alex for making this happen!!!!!

It was OUR anniversary and I totally missed it!!!!!!!

Oh crap, really?? I missed our anniversary? We were supposed to make wordy blog love for hours and hours as you tell me how smooth, soft and un-supple my words are and how you have always visualized me sitting in a small white room with tastefully button-tufted padding on the walls wearing a Circus Peanut bikini while sloshing around in a bucket of un-tastefully colored sparkles and singing the green olive theme song while typing fantastical posts filled with magically delicious content (I know you didn't know there was a theme song, and that's OK, I have a tolerance for green olive ignorance). It would have been blogasmic. We would have shared multiple blog-o-gasms of laughter and hilarity.

But I missed it.

It was October 1, 2009 that I busted in on the Blogger scene with posts about Manatee poop and Spam. I look back on where I was then and where I am now and painfully conclude:

I am still 100% insane. YAY!!!!

But there must have been lessons learned over 365 days of life, right?

So this week I will go back over a few posts to see what I have learned and more importantly what vital lessons in life I may have taught you as a fledgling follower, you should take notes as I am sure this written montage or "blog-prom" (if you will) of my blog greatness will spark many a fond memory of our time here together. And I even made you a gift for the dance!!!! A green olive corsage for my ladies and a green olive Boutonniere for the gentleman folk.

Note: Please don't say the olives look like alien boobs,
I am aware of this.

Print the appropriate adornment out on a color printer, cut carefully on perforated lines (ask an adult for help unless you have round-tip scissors) and affix it to your clothing with duct tape or super-glue while you read this week to get the maximum interactive blog enjoyment whilst traveling down memory lane.

Welcome to:

What I have learned from the Seductress
a study guide
Day 1

Pooping

There are a many posts about my children's ability to clog my toilet with their Smurf sized droppings and toilet paper misuse. There are even posts where said Smurf sized poop fell over the edge of the overflowing loo and landed squarely on Seductress feet, I even accentuated your reading pleasure with a very accurate *Onomatopoeia's to further demonstrate the sound of a dropping Smurf sized poop, I believe the most commonly used *Onomatopoeia was "WOMP!!".
*special acknowledgment to Georgina Dollface for reminding me what a great word Onomatopoeia is in a recent magnificent post of hers!

Lessons Learned From Post

• When dealing with a situation that toilet overflow is imminent, it is always advisable to utilize the "frisk me" pose while raping the pot with a plunger.
  

• The Seductress is excellent at interjecting sound effects that make you feel like you are part of the action.

Dating

There were also some posts on dating that offered a realistic viewpoint on how sucky the men in the Seductress' town are. One to be remembered is the man who spoke in monotone for 2 hours about how he trained his bird to whistle for his dog and the hilarity that ensued each time the bird acted upon the specialized training. He did this while chewing with his mouth wide open and sporting a dab of mayo on a very sparse soul patch.

Lessons Learned From Post

• To some men, cocking your head while staring in their general direction (in this case at a condiment laden soul patch) with drool coming out of your mouth, is a sign of a fully engrossed date primed for a sexual interlude, use caution.

• Sparse soul-patches are even grosser than overly successfully curly follicular soul-patches.

Gratuitous Soul-Patch Illustration

Being Safe While Intoxicated

Sometimes I shared the happenings of nights when alcohol clouded the intelligence lobe of my brain. But mostly when alcohol clouded the intelligence lobe of a friend's brain (which is normally already hindered by the fumes of hairspray inhaled while getting ready to cloud the intelligence lobe of their brains with alcohol). My pal "CrimeScene" (as she is known on this blog) always offers a unique experience in night festivities. Being that I am always the one to remain sober and assume the position of the "gotta go" girl, I have an interesting perspective when a commercial tells you to "Drink Responsibly" because my friends NEVER do! I taunted the importance of always having a good "gotta go" friend with you when you partake in the Devil's mouthwash in many a post.

Lessons Learned From Post

• Being 4'11" and hanging out with a considerably taller, well endowed, drunk friend wearing a black shirt is comical because when you pull her arms over your shoulders to drag her out of a building full of testosterone, her large tits (that end up resting on your head) make you look like Mickey Mouse (see illustration below).

• Every man hates the"gotta go" girl with a passion.

NOT the happiest place on earth!!

Stay tuned for more of our "blog-prom" this week where we will go over the importance of Sporks and Spam in a civilized society,,, or not.

But tomorrow is dedicated to my friend Alex and his awesomeness...

a lil' of dis' a lil' of dat'

I found out that my kids and their friends are calling my car the "Zhu Zhu pet" car (hmpf). When I am in car line, they joke and taunt me and my righteous whip. So I have been plotting a little "Halloween" transformation of the PT Cruiser. Mom don't play, Mom doesn't embarrass easily and Mom is planning on riding up in an "actual" Zhu Zhu pet car.... Stay tuned...

Speaking of funny vehicles, there is a huge construction site close to my home. I pass it everyday and wave at the cute boys, as a courtesy, you know, a community morale booster type activity.

In my fantasies dreams, I invite them over for scones and grape juice served in Dixie cups (I am a giver you know). They would sit patiently in little wooden chairs (all nakey Jakey like) so I could search them for ticks, but maybe that is only because I heard that Brad Paisley song about it, but, whatever, they COULD have ticks and I need to take every precaution.

I would knit them colorful meat cozy's, because colorful, knitted meat cozy's keep summer sausage fresher than just throwing it in the bright UV lights of the fridge unprotected (look it up on the Hillshire Farms summer sausage website, this is an edutaining blog if nothing else!! Cover your sausage every time!!).

GO MEAT!!!

OK, so maybe all of the big tractors and rogue dust blowing in the wind does something "special" to me. Until yesterday.. I tried to take a picture, but was going to quickly and thought that certainly you would not want me to die solely for your visual entertainment purposes,, (I may get a pic tomorrow, you're worth the risk). All of the tractors were BRIGHT PINK. I mean Bright Pepto Bismol pink, WTF??? Pink tractors with big burly men driving in tight Wranglers and hardhats,, you can't help but laugh seeing this imagery!!

A Village People tune started blaring in my head and I was contemplating a stopping by to talk to them about bedazzling their hardhats. I don't think my sweet gesture would be appreciated, but I AM sure no one would pass on the meat cozy's and health conscience tick "check points".

My stint on Extreme Home Makeover... or not...

I have lost a lot of readers, it bothers me a little although, I understand. My posts have been very sporadic and tempered lately. I know it's hard to read negative stuff all the time and even harder when you want to help and can't. So I have not been posting as normal because of that. I hate Debbie Downers and I certainly don't want to be one, but when my reality screams, it's hard to walk away from that. Sometimes just the simple act of writing my posts helps me, giving me a sense of release, so forgive me if I lull on sometimes. I wanted to share this post because it meant a lot to me.

Children should not worry. Well, not about big life stuff anyways. My dad always tried to shelter us from the things that were really going on "behind the scenes". My childhood had a lot of extra stresses. I think some kids are more resilient and don't really ever notice things are changing around them or, they act like they don't to internalize it. Then there are the ones who start "holding" the worry for the family to themselves, I did this, growing up before my time. You tend to feel everyone else always matters more than you do and you must do anything you can to help every situation get better. If you can't, you feel you have failed. I have failed a lot lately.

I want my childhood back. I don't want my kids to feel their childhood was lost because of the crappy things happening right now. "Normalcy" in and of itself is what I want. We will overcome all of this, and the new road will be fresh and exciting.

I have tried to hold back as much as I can from my kids, but to be a responsible well balanced person, sometimes you must see the struggle and help fight it to understand it fully. I want my kids to have all of what they need and some of what they want, but they must understand that there is a price for everything and even the smallest things of things are not to be taken for granted. If nothing else I hope my struggle teaches that lesson.

The other day I received notice of the foreclosure sale date on my house (Nov 17). I began to walk away as I opened the confirmation of what seems to be inevitable at this point. I also received notification that my license would be revoked if I did not pay child support. What is to be done when both parents are struggling? Both needing help with food for the children. Should we cancel the help? He says he can't afford to do that. I have to trust that he can't and would not want him to jeopardize their needs. He filed and the State of Florida wants me to pay them back even though I am still searching for a job, need another surgery and have another child at home. It is my responsibility to take care of them and right now I feel so low because I can't. I fail. There is no income coming into the house. I apply for jobs and pray and apply and pray and take care of my kids the best I can.

I walked to my room and broke down that day, DramaGirl knew. She tried to come to my rescue with hugs and matching tears. I didn't want her to see me like that so I immediately went in "joke" mode. She knows what is going on but also knows that she will never be without a place to stay or the things she needs, me and her dad will make sure of that, but that is not good enough for her, she wants more.

We have had this talk many times before, she daydreams and thinks that Extreme Home Makeover should save the house for me. Sweet, simplistic innocence is a wonderful thing! My oldest states: "well if they fix it up, mom would still lose it". She is right at this point. But I also take the time, each time, to tell them to listen to the "back story" of the show. It is about people beating the odds and finding extraordinary ways to help their community even while in peril. It's about people overcoming life shattering disease and odds. Adopting and raising the kids that society throws away. Or battling a disease or mental limitations in their own family. It's about Moms and Dads who fight for our freedom and secure our safety without concern for their own. It is about sacrifice, a show acknowledging the unsung heroes. I tell them that I am not that. I want to be, but I am not, we can all learn and model ourselves around the dedication of people like these, they deserve good fortune, we all do, but let them get theirs first!! I have said this many times to them, they understand.

That night when she was supposed to be sleeping, she came out of her room to read me a short letter written in blue crayon to Ty Pennington of Extreme Home Makeover.

I am a hero to at least one person in this world it seems, DramaGirl. That is all it takes to make me smile today, being a hero to your kids is a great accomplishment. You can tell she loves me and has watched me try and do better, the letter makes me cry,,, she consoles me,,, again. This is not in her job description as a kid, she should be breaking things and making messes (she is very good at that too!). She is also the kid that every time I go/went in the hospital, forced her classmates to sign get well cards for me. She is a sweet sweet girl.

I will type the letter exactly as she wrote it, misspells and all:

Dear Tye,

Please help my familly so my mom wont have to live on the streets. my mom is getting yet another surgery and she has no money. shes always helping people and serenading laugter. she fed the homeless and helped a little girl. please help us : ( before the house gets for closed.

Y DramaGirl

To our children, sometimes the simplest things we do, seem (in their words) "epic". They pick up on even the most basic of humanitarian things we do that we may shrug off as nothing. We are teaching them through our actions. If you do the best you can and give all of what you have to offer, they will see in you, what they want to be, even if you don't see it. I don't see it now, but DramaGirl does!!!

I am a hero..... because..... I serenade laughter..... I think that f'n rocks!!!! What a beautiful sentence that is.

There are many heroes here at blogger that bring me smiles everyday!! I thank you all for that!! And for sticking with me!!!

I will sing to you tomorrow with verses of laughter...

Bad Hare day!!!

Today my hare hair talked to me.

This is my hallucination, welcome to it (curtsy, bow). I wonder what "normal" feels like sometimes, but then I think about how much fun I would be lacking and all the funny faces and head cocks I get from random "normal" people I would be missing out on and I embrace insanity once more.

So the strands and I chatted about heat damage, dead ends, frizz and such until they came up with a plan. I was just finishing up on my 80's pouf on top and moving to the wispy rocker chic spikes on the sides, when they interjected.

"Alas fair maiden, please do favor these auburn locks with a request of change on this fine fall day!"

(who knew my follicles were fluent in thespian lingo? I would have guessed they would speak more like Fran Drescher in "The Nanny" sitcom, but OK)

"Dearest hair-o-mine, you have granted me many fine hair days and have enhanced my appearance for so long (except that one high school dance we went to, but that was my fault, who gets a freaking perm on dance day?). I would be honored to grant a wish for you! What will it be, no sticky products today, no heat styling, no teasing (I am sorry I called you lazy but you were very limp and annoying that day)."

"I wish to be feathered like Farah Fawcett in Charlie's Angels!" The ends gasped with excitement.

"Oh my, uh, hair? Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"You'st are, no offense, already caught in the 80's now!!! One decade back shall only enhance your longing and success at NOT being trendy!"

"Now I DO take offense to that! (I stop to spray the CHEAP hairspray as punishment) People love my hair!!! I define TRENDY"

"Emo's and children love your hair (cough, gasp), please honor me with this humble request or I shall have hair troops jump from your head, parachute down and clog your shower pipes!"

So I did. I am feathered like Farrah Fawcett today. I also put on a zippered jumpsuit with padded shoulders and carried my pink paint ball gun to town whilst I ducked behind buildings and under cars protecting people and humming the Charlie's Angels theme song, or maybe it was "Mission Impossible", but whatever.

Tomorrow we have decided to do "Edward Scissorhand's" !!! I have picked out my leathers, buckles and jet black temporary hair color.... If you wake up and your bushes are sprinkled with sparkles and shaped like make-up products or Circus Peanuts, you can come back here and thank me in the comment section.

Oh,,, I gotta go,,,, Jaclyn Smith just called me...we're going to K-mart,, she has a line of clothing there it seems, and I also have a "perp" to handle!!

Wanna play a game (she asks while innocently drawing circles with her toes in the sand)

Of course you do!!

Why wouldn't you?

You have nothing to lose!!

Let's call it:

What do you think happened?

(cliche game show music is playing in the back ground as Monty Hall walks up wearing a light blue tux with with dark blue ruffles and gaudy silver cumber bun, I ask him to leave because he always creeped me out a little but mostly because he owes me a parting gift.)

So this one time (years after this one time I was at band camp,,,), I was invited to meet some people and some of them were....... (dramatic pause)........ men!!!! As always, I was nervous. I just don't get this dating thing, this was when I was pretty new at it and I thought men actually could be nice to me..... This was also when I reverted back into that gangly looking pre-teen with arms two times the length of her torso and stringy pieces of hair stuck to her lips with bubblegum lip gloss. (No it was NOT last week!! And that was WATERMELON GLOSS anyways....geeze!).

I dolled up. My tummy was twisting and turning so I drank a large bottle of Pepto Bismol. It was a "blue" night, which means I was using blue as an "accent" color (jewelry, make-up, even D&G "Cool Blue" perfume,, I know no-one would know my perfume "matched" but I did...it's a "girl" thang, but mostly it's part of the symptoms of my insanity, along with dancing with no music and talking to specs of dust like Horton the Elephant)

I had given myself this funky fun blue nail polish and matching toes and had decided to show off my perfect piggies in a pair of peep toe sandals.

I was to be fabulously, fabulous this night!!

But......

I was early and still very nervous. My fantastic peep toed shoes were by the door, I was ready.

Me being early and nervous is a bad thing. I can't just sit and wait while nervously twiddling my thumbs,,, and I don't pace,,,,, I must DO something,,,, which usually means an inappropriately timed and totally unnecessary "rearranging of the furniture" ceremony.

And there,,,, on the other side of the living room,,,, it was,,,, staring at me,,,, The chest. The "too heavy for any one person to move" chest,, The WAY too heavy for one GIRL to move chest.

The awkward, bottom heavy, just fine where it was - chest.

"What if I moved the chest 3 feet to the right?" I thought...

"What if I shifted the (also too heavy for one person to move) couch?" I further reasoned about the decorating quandary before me...

"I could nudge over the (almost too heavy for one person to move but I can handle it) love seat back a few feet!" I deduced....

"This room would look FANTASTIC!!!!" I stated while placing my hand over my chest in reverence to my genius....

I jumped into action and sprinted across the room to start my journey of floor plan magic.

And then it happened.

The chest raped my big toe of it's dignity AND it's sparkly toe nail "apparel"!!

I stood in shock with the open mouth face of pain and an squeaky irritating cry. The beautifully sparkled blue toe nail saluted the ceiling in defiance of my authority and the laws of proper big-toe nail positioning/etiquette.

But what would come of my fantastic peep toe sandals that completed my outfit? Would the general public be robbed from marveling at my spunky shoes and matching painted piggies?

The gushing blood stopped my dramatic "inter-head narration" of the situation. I retrieved a few band-aids and covered the toe with a band-aid cast... And now... I was late.... There was no time to re-evaluate the shoe situation... The flesh tone band-aid made my big toe look like a amputated stump. This did no justice to my other perfect toes, my shoes, or my masterfully choreographed attire.

But alas.. I had a plan...

The band-aid looked so much like skin,, maybe I could paint a "faux toe-nail" with the fingernail polish!!! (feel free to use this helpful fashion tip if you need to)

GENIUS!!!!!

And it worked!!!! It was a masterpiece worthy of the finest of trompe-l'eol artists.

Fabulous!!!

I went to jet out to 'da-club!! Because that's how I was rolling that night.

(But had to go throw up a gallon of Pepto Bismol first..*shrugs* nerves )

But then I was out like sauerkraut!!

So, what do you think happened??

Nope, that's NOT it!!

Here goes...

I was doing OK. The guy they all wanted me to hook up with was really cute and my adorable stumbling of words, nose sweating and gleeking in his general direction was reeling him in (I am sure).

We glided over to the dance floor.

Me flouncing around in convulsions on the floor did not even deter him (gluttons for punishment are so cute!)... So, I decided I needed to hand my purse to a friend to avoid injuring myself or him when I really "break it down" in my "stage two" dancing performance.

I taught Carlton everything he knows!!

I excused myself and walked over to her with a wink and a smile and turned around to see my "supposed" guy and 3 other guys on the dance floor bending down looking at something laying on the floor with a confused sort of WTF look on their faces.

I glanced at my big toe.. Aggggh....

My breathing hurried... Heart beating faster.....

I glanced at the dance floor in horror.. Agggggh!!! No F'n way....REALLY???

There in the middle of the floor with a beam of light shining on it, was my perfectly painted, blue prosthetic big toe band-aid and a group of men that decided (after they couldn't figure out what the heck it was) to kick it to the side of the dance floor.

I freaked a little,,, how embarrassing!! And all you would have to do is look down to know it was mine,, no one wears fantastical sparkly blue polish like me.. I decided to leave.

(after throwing up more Pepto Bismol *shrugs* pepto sucks!).

I laid in bed that night thinking that if he were actually "Prince Charming", he would have picked up that perfectly painted blue prosthetic big toe band-aid and searched the land far and wide to find the ONE AND ONLY perfect big toe it would fit on.

And then we would live happily ever after.

I never saw PC or my perfectly painted blue prosthetic big toe band-aid again.

I miss the band-aid.

The first thing I have ever asked of you..... besides eating jello with a straw..

If you were around me, I wonder if I would seem different. I don't laugh 24 hours a day (it's only about 23 1/2- I reserve 30 minutes to watch Little House on the Prairie, and I never laugh through that). I don't tell bad jokes all day (75% are good to mediocre with potential). I don't dance my way around grocery stores (I go to Walmart Super-center and dance there, I fit in better). I am not always singing and dancing whilst driving in my car (occasionally a Ke$ha song comes on and I cock my head and look at the radio confused for a few moments before changing the station and resuming the Broadway show performance).

But one thing is true. I always want to be better. I always over analyze why I am depressed. Financially I feel like a bottom feeder and I feel alone. You pretty, pretty fish keep crapping on me while I am sucking the fungus off the gravel to survive. I never thought I'd be here-but here I am!

As a credit counselor for 21 years I learned how to keep and pull people out of financial rubble. I felt so accomplished when I gave a family a "Game Plan" to increase their credit score and they succeeded and were able to fulfill some of their dreams. But here I am with medical collections and a house in foreclosure with no place to go. Banks won't hire a Loan Officer with bad credit, even though I feel it will make me a better one!! I honestly don't know what I am going to do. I am looking for every option. That's a lot of pressure. But I realized one thing I changed in my daily life that I shouldn't have.

I always was a person that helped. I have never been rich, but I always gave to charities and causes by volunteering, organizing fund raisers etc. Even in credit counseling I felt I was giving. My dad taught me to always look outside of yourself. No matter what was going on, no matter how late we were or how angry it made me (as a punk teenager) he would never pass by the homeless without turning around and getting a bag of burgers and cold cokes. As I questioned why, and prodded him about how would he knew that they are not drug dealers or alcoholics or taking advantage of people, he would smile and say:

"But what if they're not?"

and continue with:

"Tonight I will go to sleep knowing I helped somebody that may not have needed it, but KNOWING I did not pass by someone who really did".

Finances are like a beautifully tiered apple display. We can always take from the top of the apple pile when little things happen (tire blow out, something breaks, etc) and we need some extra funds, but when something more severe happens (lapse in job, unpaid sick days, etc) you can only take from the middle so many times. If you take from that bottom tier (total loss of income, illness, death, tragedy, etc), those apples will all tumble down to the produce floor, and you are left trying to stack them up again.

Don't take that for granted.

A lot of people have strong support lines and are still OK, the ones who don't, crumble, and sometimes we judge them.

I have felt I am at the very bottom, and have stopped giving because I thought I could not afford it, that very spark I got FOR helping got blown out and replaced with the worry for only my situation.

But then I remembered:

There is ALWAYS someone worse off than me!

I can not afford NOT to give.

To someone who is drowning, one bubble of air is a lifesaver. If I have a few bubbles to spare, I have an obligation to do that. The person worse off than me is STILL better off than someone else too, they, in turn should give what little they have. And it goes on and on. We have forgotten that the size of the gift does not matter in the least. Who is to say that Oprah is a better person because she has more to give? If I give what I can, than I am just as much of a hero, even though I am not in the spotlight.

This will be my ultimate "Sparkly Social Pyramid Experiment". Compassion and support given from the top, trickling down to the bottom, benefiting everyone. We should go on in life knowing that no matter how "down and out" we feel we are, someone below is looking at what we have and classifying it as a blessing. I will look down from now on to make sure someone is catching some of my blessings and praying they are doing the same for those below them.

Today I stopped by McDonalds, and with the last 5$ in change bought plain burgers and went to the underside of a bridge where I see the same 5 people huddled every day.

They become part of our landscape, would you notice if they were gone?

I handed a gentleman the bag with a smile. He thanked me and complimented my sparkles (that made me laugh). I asked If I could sit for a few moments (the kids were at school). They welcomed me in and we talked about the weather. I never asked how they got there, they never asked why I had come. I thought that was curious. It was just small talk and me taking the time to look into the eyes of people I normally would avoid, because by avoiding eye contact, I could feel better about NOT helping. I took time to pet their dog and nervously gathered my self to ask one question.

"What, if anything, has been positive about being on the streets?"

Some "Nothings" rose up before the oldest looking man, wearing plaid and stripes said:

"I understand people more now, some are shells of what they portray, some are invisible, but most are just trying to see tomorrow like me."

WOW! So simple, but WOW!

And then I left.

If I do nothing else positive in life, I wish this message would get out. Please help me do that by posting in my words (or yours) a little blurb about this "Sparkly Social Pyramid Experiment"(or whatever you want to name it). Ask you readers to repost it as well, if it gets posted and reposted, who knows how far it would go!!

It is day one for me... I already feel better!! Is that selfish???


Comedy and hilarity returns here soon....stay tuned...