I saw this sign (well a similar sign) on someone’s lawn the other day (before it was covered with April snow). I’ve seen this and heard it probably a thousand times since the 60s (many of those times I saw it through “rose-colored glasses” if you catch my drug-referenced drift) but this time I stopped and thought “that’s not true.” There are many times when war IS the answer. For instance:
1. What song did Edwin Starr sing in 1970 (Good God why’all)?
2. What is a card game where each player turns up a card at the same time and the player with the higher card takes both cards and at the end your brother says you were a cheater but you know he was a cheater AND a stinky face?
3. After the attack on Pearl Harbor Roosevelt declared what?
b. His vacation to Hawaii was postponed
c. We need to find a date that will live in infamy
d. His love for Eleanor
I have to wonder about the sanity of anyone who would stare at a picture of hours to find a panda bear. Go outside. Read a book. Take a nap. Clip your toenails. But, for God’s sake … DON’T STARE AT A PICTURE FOR HOURS TO FIND A F*CKING PANDA BEAR.
This has been a public service message. Now go on with your regular life.
January 1st is the beginning of the end for thousands of bags of baby carrots. Everyone who has started their diet today will buy a bag of baby carrots with the intention of eating them instead of a bag of chips or a bar of chocolate or a box of cookies. And eventually they will be pushed towards the back of the fridge behind the bowls of whatever until one day they are discovered and discarded.
So here is a salute to the baby carrots who have given their lives to support the dreams and illusions of the world dieters.
This is a picture of my great-niece Vicky in Paris or Spain (I’m not sure where she is) but she loves to climb steps so she is off again. I’m pretty sure she’s not thinking well that building is way too far away I’ll never get there — she is probably thinking one more step and then one more step etc. Actually I don’t have any idea what she is thinking but I do know she is brighter than most of us … just keep going until you get to where you want to go (unless some adult comes along and scoops you up and keeps you from your destination). Of course if some adult comes along and tries to scoop us up we can kick them in the balls or knees if they are testicle-impaired people. Either way we can fight the scooper.
I don’t know what this suppose to mean but when I saw this picture this is what I thought about and I decided to share it. Of course it is another chance to show off Vicky too.
Today as I was driving home, trying to avoid the 85 areas around me of road construction, I got to one of my best shortcuts home and there was a train going down the track I had to cross.
When I was growing up we had to cross this track on the way to and from my grandma and grandpa’s house. I used to silently pray for a train to go by because I loved to watch them and usually the guy in the caboose would wave at you if you hung out the window and waved at him. It was one of my favorite things.
When I said I would “silently pray” it wasn’t because I was a quiet and shy child — it was because my parents didn’t share my joy when there was a train. They thought of it was just a delay.
Today I thought of that and I wondered at what point did I change from the kid who loved to see a train go by — to watch in awe at one train car after another that passed by and wonder what was in those cars — to an “adult” who saw them as an impediment to my progress to wherever I was going.
Today I was in no hurry — I didn’t have to get home to do anything in particular; there were no frozen foods melting in the backseat; there was no job timing my arrival; Keifer Sutherland wasn’t waiting for me to arrive — with the exception of Daisy wanted to get out of her crate there was no rush. But there I was annoyed like the people in front and behind me. I even turned off my car since I had no idea how long I’d be there. Then as I saw the final cars approaching I started my engine, looked up, and saw the guy in the caboose waving at us. I waved back and was suddenly that kid again; at least until the car behind me honked.
Yes, it’s another Prince tribute. I’m still trying to grasp the news of Prince’s death. It amazes me how people (because I know I’m not the only one) can feel so much grief for a person they “didn’t know.” And, like so many people from Minneapolis I had my Prince sighting. When the movie “Purple Rain” came out I went to see it with a friend at the Skyway Theater. When it was over we stood up and saw Prince sitting about two rows behind us — apparently he liked to go to see how people reacted to the movie.
But that’s the cool thing about Prince and other people I mourned for when they passed that were not part of my life in the way that we hung out together or talked on the phone or emailed pictures of cute dogs and cats — they were part of my life in a totally different way.
Meet Bob — he told us he is the Navy’s best pilot — EVER. Then he told us that every Navy pilot had to feel that way about themselves or they couldn’t do what they do.
Last night the Social Media Marketing conference partied on the USS Midway. I didn’t know at first if I would go but decided to get out of my comfort zone and attend. When I saw all the steps we had to climb to get onto the ship I almost turned around and went back to the hotel but I said “I can do this” and I did it. Of course at the top some nice guy took my arm to help me — I must have looked or sounded pretty bad (at least it wasn’t a Boy Scout; when the Boy Scout helps me cross the street I’ll know I am over the hill). Of course I discovered later there was an elevator.
Today I went to pick up some prescriptions … yes I have multiple prescriptions to make somethings higher, somethings lower, and somethings not want to go screaming naked into the night with a baseball bat. The pharmacist started scanning them in and said “There’s no cost. You get free drugs.”
Yes, free drugs that cost me $3,500 in medical bills between January 1st and today. Now it is a treat to know that for the rest of the year my drugs will be “free” and so will most of any medical visits.
While I was contemplating my “free” drugs it took me back to 1978 — in a place far far away called Sandstone Federal prison. My then boyfriend was getting out after serving a few years for things I’m better off not talking about. I had driven up to the prison to pick him and bring him back to the cities where he would be spending a month or two in a halfway house.
The Huffington Post has an article on 13 Reasons Why Women Should Masturbate Regularly. I haven’t read it because I’m thinking one is enough. I’m actually sad that someone would have to be talked into it. It seems so obvious — who would need more than one reason. I’m sensing a series of articles:
13 Reasons Why Women Should Brush Their Teeth
13 Reasons Why Women Should Not Date Serial Killers
13 Reasons Why Women Should Not Jump Into Hot Tar Pits
So these are my guesses at the 13 reasons:
Anything to postpone cleaning the closets
Nothing good on television
Already on Santa’s naughty list so go for it
Because Ted Cruz would disapprove
You’ve gotta fever and no cow bell
Keifer Sutherland (need I explain?)
You’ve run out of chocolate
The internet is down
You’re on hold for customer service with Comcast
All your eHarmony matches could be guest stars on Criminal Minds
It’s the first day of the rest of your life so start it out with a bang (or sorts)
The Huffington Post said you should
Of course there are some people busy somewhere (Fox News) preparing a new list — 13 Reasons Why Women Shouldn’t Masturbate Regularly:
Puts pressure on men to do something other than the clapper (roll on/roll off/the clapper)
Less time to do their housekeeping
If God had wanted you to have orgasms you would be men
Who is going to drive the car pool if women are all home getting jiggy with themselves
Ted Cruz would disapprove
There is laundry piling up
We’re sure there’s something in the bible forbidding it
You would muss up your housedress
Because if you do, the terrorists win
These floors aren’t going to mop themselves
The Elf on the Shelf will report it to Santa
That’s a man’s job (insert your own “job” joke here)
That’s how communism gets a hold of you
Either way it’s obvious that Santa and Ted Cruz are involved in this discussion, and isn’t that sad.
Sometimes you think you have nothing to write about and then Tennessee legislators come along and save the day. They have voted to designate the bible as the state book. Apparently there is no poverty, illiteracy, homelessness, or other problems in Tennessee for them to work with so they are forced to spend their time trying to figure out what should be the state book.
I’m from Minnesota and I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t believe we have a state book. We have more lakes than anyone else but we have no state book. I think this must change soon. Since the bible is already taken — and I don’t want us to be accused of being copycats — I have some suggestions:
A Fan Favorite
For the foodies of the state
Don’t they all???
Our secret weapon
A must have
Keep us humble
Why we have winter
While they were all contenders, and worthy of a good Minnesotan’s bookshelf, there is only one book that deserves to be called Minnesota’s state book: