Friday Photo #24

Thelma and Louise, circa 1991 

Okay, so long ago and far away back in 1991, Beets and I decided to pull a Thelma and Louise--leave our husbands at home, rent a convertible Mustang and head for the beach, namely Wildwood, NJ for some primo girl bonding. We packed our bikinis, Rita fixins, two packs of Newports and headed East to bask in the Northern sun, frolic in the surf and lounge pool side. We were 30 and 31, respectively, thin, vibrant and kinda hot despite the gi-normous sunshades. Hey, it was still basically the 80s--at least I'd lost the perm by then. We were just hitting our stride and had the world by the short hairs.

It was FABULOUS!!! That convertible was the sweetest! Believe it or not, we managed to stay out of trouble while still having some interesting exploits that make me smile to this day. This would be the first of many solo trips to the Jersey shore for me and Beets. Each adventure has deepened our bond of friendship, but this first journey will forever remain the best, the brightest and the dearest to our hearts.

Aaah, the memories. Here's to Soft Bob, water baloons, Harbor Inn karaoke, the haunted house and the "dickler". That's a story for another day.

Twilight Zone Moment of the Week...

or "do do do do .. do do do do"

Okay, so the weirdest thing happened today. My Mom, Big Mar and I were heading back to the car after a scrumptious breakfast at a local diner when this crazy-assed, uber angry woman across the street starts screaming and MF-ing at everyone in general and no one in particular. Her raging rant had something to do with Freaking Men ruling the Frelling world... I don't know. Whatever. Sell it sister like you don't need the money!

Anywho, my car is parked on the Mad Woman of MF land's side of the street. Great. I usher Big Mar north, crossing the street above Her Majesty of Madness, giving this chick a wide berth as we walk to my car parked two spaces in front of her ongoing verbal assault. 

Our journey takes all of two minutes. I help Big Mar into the passenger seat, start to walk to my side of the car, glance back at the corner...and the woman has literally VANISHED. Seriously. Gone. Without a trace. (I never really warmed up to  that show..)

WTF?!?

I didn't feel a shift in the space/time continuum, yet there was not one sign this woman ever existed. No car had stopped to pick her up. She was absolutely nowhere to be found. It had to be aliens, right? Surely aliens don't just hang out in empty Iowa fields looking for odd balls Cletuses to abduct. They vacation in actual cities at times to, you know, mix it up. Well how else would you explain it? 

Seriously weird.

On a similar weirdo note, how about this dude...

He wins, hands down, for freak of the week. I can't remember why he was arrested, but really does it even matter. I mean, COME ON! The guy's not just wearing a ladies one-piece... he's sporting boobies there. AND as our anchoress, Sonya pointed out he had the fashion forethought to wear the appropriate racer-backed brassiere to support his man-boobs without those unsightly bra straps ruining his line. I'm not even asking where he tucked the boys.

Ya gotz to love the strangies. Without them life would just be dull.

Is There Something You'd Like to Share With Me LG Versa? 

or where's that voice coming from? 

Okay, so the other day I was reading a text message from a friend and noticed this odd, square-faced, profile-looking icon in the upper right hand corner of the phone screen. Not being one to actually study the manuals of gizmos--much to Geo's shagrin, he reeeeeeally hates hates hates that I don't read manuals, mainly because I end up asking him questions about my phone, he gets annoyed, I get snippy, he gets testes..I mean, testy, then there's yelling, there's door slamming, yadda yadda yadda, next thing you know we're mopping blood from the floor. I kid. But it can be unpleasant...

Wait...where was I? 

Oh yeah. So I tap this button (insert you own off-color comment here) and lo and behold, this computerized chick voice starts reading the text message aloud in that creepy, stilted, Christopher Walken kinda way. 

Get Out!!! How cool is this?

So I start going through some of my old messages to have Stephen Hawking's wife read them aloud when I get to one from my bud, KJo wherein he has written laughter (Hahahahahahahaha) and "titties". The "hahas" came out sounding like the Tazmanian Devil character from Bugs Bunny cartoon fame. Funny enough, but "titties" came out accented improperly and in two very distinct syllables. Hilarious!

So naturally I shared my findings with KJo who IMMEDIATELY sent back a full page of off-color terms. I knew he'd come through for me. He's my hero, don't cha know.

I pushed the icon, and my little handheld Harlot spouted off words you can't say on television in her perfect 01001 computer dialect. When she got to "pussy" she read it as "puss-y" as in the contents of a festering boil. 

She's such a tramp.

The Things You Do In Pittsburgh When You're Bored

or it's Sunday at the Special K

Okay, so I'm going through my copious amounts of work email because I keep getting the "your system box is full" prompt which when you think about it, kind of crosses the sexual harrassment line. You know, really. Don't be talking trash about my "box". The state of my box ain't none of your business, dawg. And besides it's just ... rude.


Anywho, sifting through the muck and mire of mind-numbing work related emails, I stumbled upon one from the fan site iLike. I apparently signed up a while ago to track music/concert activity of you-know-who from a link on Facebook or Myspace or Satan's Quarterly.


I have no idea how to navigate through this site. I'm just a cavewoman. I can't wrap my pea-sized brain around most online sites. I was, however, able to stumble upon a couple of gems, namely my fantasy husband singing some pretty great covers of the Pixies' Wave of Mutilation and Bowie's Ziggy Stardust. I couldn't figure out how to download them into our iTunes, but there was a link to this stellar video. He is just soooo much fun to watch. Enjoy. I'll catch you on the other side.




Lordy, Lordy!! He is a honey!



By the way Mr. Miller has a new solo CD coming out on Tuesday 6/9. It is fantastic! Seriously. It's not just me being my usual biased self when it comes to all-things-Rhett. It's an extremely strong record. Many of the songs have a darker edge, lyrically, set to his signature bouncy, pop melodies. Plus he incorporates one of my favorite words, tchotchkes in cut 5.. "She's the sum of the tchotchkes she keeps.." Come on. That's fabulous. Triple word score there. But don't take my word for it. You can judge for yourself because the fine folks at CMT.com have the entire CD streaming here. Give it a listen then tell me you're NOT going to run out and buy that puppy.


Speaking of the blue-eyed lovely one, I'm posting a couple more of the promotion shots from his distant past that were shared during the listening party back in May for my online bud, Gonzo_Stojo mainly because I can't for the life of me figure out how to get them to her via Twitter. So, Jess--as promised--these are for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!





Oooooo. So pretty...




Don't know who the Dude in the middle is, but... yeah, that's Murry on the right. Nice beads. *sigh* Between the flowing hair, big baby blues and his killer book of poems, I'm betting he totally made the girls swoon... despite the goofy photos.

Excuse me, what?

or things uttered today on and off the air 

Okay, so this morning the female anchor turned to the weather man and said:

"Do you have time for a quickie?"

Guffaw or desperate ratings ploy?

One more thing. We have a director, with whom I enjoy working, who has this habit of calling the CGs, you know the names of reporters and locators for video packages thusly:

"Insert David.." 

Plus he has a delivery similar to Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, you know--"Bueller... Bueller..." 

Anywho, when the Dark Lord, Dick Cheney was VP we all secretly hoped he would call, "Insert Dick". Sadly he never made that call. I'm thinking his subconscious put the brakes on that one. He did, however, come close one morning with "Insert Johnson.."

he he he he  Yeah, we're ten.

Beyonce Has Got It Going On 

or how her bouncy tunes can melt the icy exterior of any snow queen 

Okay, so I had to go to the Post Office in town last week. There are lots of branches downtown, the closest being literally right next door to my workplace. The peculiar thing about this branch office is it is staffed entirely by women--save one gentleman. We call them The Little Sisters of the Perpetually Surly, and they are the most unpleasant group of dames I have ever encountered in the service industry. 

I am not kidding or exaggerating. They are snappish and scowly and just plain MISERABLE!!! A direct contrast to the lone male who could not possibly be any more pleasant or helpful. When I go there I cross my fingers that my timing is such I get in his line. 

Anywho, last time I had to post a package there was a line. As I got closer to the front, Beyonce's "All the Single Ladies" song came on over the radio. As you may remember, it is very difficult for me to resist singing or dancing in public when I hear a catchy tune. And that tune is down right irresistible. I'm not a Beyonce fan, but that chorus gets in your head and hangs on like a pit bull on the arm of neighbor kid. It might also have something to do with my love of this hilarious SNL video. Here it is once again for your viewing pleasure. It's too funny not to watch again. I'll meet you at other end of the video. Enjoy.

(Visit www.MyRandomVideos.com for more random videos!)

But I digress...

So I'm in line singing "all the single ladies, all the single ladies" and bopping around when I look up and notice one of the Sisters of the Surly cracks a smile!?! No shit! 

Me: I can't help it. This tune is way too catchy.

Sister of the Surly #1: I know! I love this song. That Beyonce has got it going on. (starts to sing)

SOS #2: I love this song, too. It makes me happy. (again with the smiling)

Me: Have you seen that video on SNL with the guys all dressed in leotards and heels?

SOS #1: Hellz yeah! That Rocks! 

Me: Can you mail this for me for free?

SOS #1: What, are you drunk? Of course not.

Me: But, come on. We were just bonding over Beyonce...

SOS #2: What the hell does that have to do with anything.

Me: Come on. Just this once.

SOS #1: Security! 

Me: Wait. What?! Son of a Bitch. Not so tight with the shackles, pal. Hey, what is that? A TASER?!? Are you kiddi-- zzzzt!!

THUD

 

Okay that last bit didn't happen, but the next thing you know, we're all chatting and laughing and be-bopping to Beyonce. The one woman even knew all the words. We were totally bonding. For one brief, shining moment we were part of the same Sisterhood of Sunshine.  

Who knew Beyonce and her mindless, repetitive albeit infectious melody had the power to shatter the crusty outer coating and soften the Sisters of the Surley. She's like a Super Hero. Hopefully she'll continue to use her powers for good. 

Hazmat Adventures in Refrigerator Cleaning

or what the HELL was that?!?

Okay, so Suzette stopped by this morning to partake of our traditional Sunday brunchfest before attempting to clear out the various tchotchkes and such she's amassed over the past 20+ years.

In the afterglow of a very satisfying meal, we got the misguided notion to tackle the contents of the dreaded department fridge.

Holy Crap!

First tip: Dawn a hazmat suit. Seriously. There is so much unidentifiable goo and glop liquefying in every nook and cranny of that beast it's a veritable petri dish of epic proportion. Plus a respirator would be a wise accessory to prevent accidental aspiration of the powdery air-born spores lurking in any number of long forgotten paper bags. Not to mention shield one's olfactory system from the full frontal attack of the inevitable odoriferous nuclear waste.

This purging process never fails to solicit a chorus of EEeeewwwwws! and gags and shivers down the spine. I suspect innocent bystanders walking down the hall think something untoward is going on behind the curtain.

"Untoward" ... isn't that a great word. It sounds so...Merchant/Ivory English. Fa Fa Fa Fa

but I digress...

Pop quiz: 

Q: How many single-serving sized containers of applesauce, jello and yogurt does it take to fill a refrigerator? 

A: Apparently 1,006 and still counting. People, people...how about doing us a solid and eating this crap with the shelf life of a half century.

So this week's bounty worthy of a technicolor yawn starts with this lovely example of neglect--a mold-laden, half used can of enchilada sauce circa 1999. Or as that pompous personality Alex Trebek might say, En-shi-la-tha. (he's such a tool.)

I know what you're thinking... "That's not so bad, ya Pansy. It didn't even make me gag." It's a matter of pacing. Don't want to share the coup de grace, the mother of all vom inducers, the nightmare on Kenmore Street too early. 

Next up may I present to the court the dripping, slippery remains of what was once a vibrant yellow pepper. 

It actually was dripping through the baggie. Smelled real charming, too.

When we first uncovered this next exhibit of heinous handiwork, it was corralled in a rather nice plastic container which had locking sides. The container was way too good to toss with the contents so we opted to transfer the unknown substance to a Ziploc bag. Imagine our horror when we gazed upon this ...

What the HELL is that?!? Seriously. It looks like Satan's spawn ...  preserved in jelly. I'm not kidding. You can see it's head on the righthand side. Or perhaps it's the evil contents of Beelzibub's colon. Either way call Cyril Wecht! Or better yet an old priest and a young priest... 

The last horrifying discovery is well... I don't even know how to begin to describe this... this furry former food stuff... this science experiment gone horribly, horribly awry. 

I have no earthly idea what this could have been in its former, edible life. All I know is you totally do NOT want to inhale a single atom of this powdery peculiarity for fear of contracting some sort of Andromeda Strain or the Hamthrax. Even Alexander Fleming would have given this lot a wide berth, despite his love affair of all things surrounding that moldy marvel, penicillin. 

Well I'm happy to report Suzette and I survived our journey through the center of Lucifer's lair without contracting Mesothelioma. Only good thing about this activity is it's a great appetite suppressant.