Friday, February 27, 2009

I Am Sloth, Here Me Sigh*

Spin Cycle? I know, it's been forever hasn't it, but here I am. This week's Spin Cycle is 'change,' and when I first saw it I had two great ideas right away. In fact, I was planning on doing a two part Spin, but laziness and life kinda killed that. And speaking of laziness, one of the big things I've decided needs changing, is me.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't actually look like that. I don't actually look fat at all, which is also part of the problem. There's a bit of a spare tire there, but that's about all. And that's what worries me. I know I'm in terrible shape, and if it's not showing on the outside, what does it look like on the inside? Say, around my heart? I've been slowly but methodically ruining the planet of me and the inhabitants have not seemed to care. Until now. Until her.

I swear I tried to find a better picture of her, one where she didn't have her ass pointed in the air, but all the other ones I could find on google sucked. And, for a digitally animated fitness trainer, she's got a nice caboose. If you don't recognize her, she's one of the trainers from the Wii Fit. Connor and Liam have named her Padmé.

Um... ya, I can work with that. Thanks, boys. Anyway, despite a rocky start when she told me my Wii Fit age was 47 even though it's SO not, our love has continued to grow. Today, my third day in, she told me I was 31. I knew she loved me. Sure it feels like she's taken a lead pipe to both my knees, but I know she means it in a good way. And if it means I'll be able to chase my kids around the house for more than five minutes before falling to the floor clutching my chest, then it's all worth it.

I love you, Padmé.

*I stole this from a comment I left on somebody's blog. It did result in a lawsuit being filed by me against myself, but it was eventually settled out of court.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Random Tuesday: You Want Random? YOU CAN'T HANDLE RANDOM!


Ha! Try Random Tuesday Guest Post. Oh, ya, that's what he said.

I'm in England today, come on over to Kat's at 3 Bedroom Bungalow.

Monday, February 23, 2009

He Blogs/She Blogs: What the hell was I thinking?

So. Here I am. My first contribution to He Blogs/She Blogs, and yes, I did wet myself a little when I clicked on 'new post.' Before I go any farther though, I want to send a shout out to my worthy competitors for this lofty position (no jokes, Irish!). Christopher, Ryan, Ron, Kevin, Ian & Matt, it was great fun competing for this and I'm more than happy that Petra decided to have everybody guest post against a guesting (?) She blogger.

Ok, I could whine on and on about being nervous and such, but I think I'll just hitch up my skirt and wade on in. Game on.

Sprite's Keeper: Who is better at multi-tasking? Men or women?

Thanks, Jen. When I read this out to Supreme Leader she laughed and laughed. Ah, multi-tasking. Back when I was employed I used to work for a large 'financial institution' (We won't go into details on this since they're still paying my severance for the next 7 months). At my last position, I headed investigations, country wide, for several large banks. Banks, not individual customers, but every customer of these banks. Let me tell you, I multi-tasked like a mofo. And before that? I worked in the treasury where we had deadlines that came down off the Mount with Moses (they were written on the other side). I was a machine.

Then I lost my job. Then real life grabbed me by the junk and screamed "you don't know jack, Buttercup!" And you know what? Life was right. Multi-tasking with children is beyond my Jedi powers. I keep up as best I can, but really, this is way beyond my abilities.

That said, if we ever have to fight our way out of the city during a zombie plague or an alien invasion, I think I might be able to handle that one better.

Cajoh wrote: Here's a question: Does either of you have a partner that snores? I know I can sleep through a hurricane, but I know others can't sleep if the other snores. What words of advice do you have to those suffering sleep deprivation due to their partners' nose flute solos.

Breath-Right nasal strips. Seriously. Apparently I snore. Of course I can neither confirm nor deny this allegation, but my far better half... *I've already started laughing* Sorry, this one always kills me. Soon after we married, Supreme Leader began accusing me of snoring. I hid my indignity at these scurrilous lies and suggested she just push me until I stopped. It didn't help. Neither did kicking me, pinching my nostrils closed or shouting at me. Everytime I think about this or get yelled at the next morning for doing it again I always picture my little wifey trying to roll me over in bed or beating on me and I laugh like a fool. Yes, I'm going to hell, but I'm going with a smile on my face.

Seriously though, sleep deprivation can make for a shaky relationship. Go back to the link and check it out.

From Cat: Hmmm. I would like to know what men REALLY think about cellulite. They say it isn't there (um, yeah it is), they say they can't see it anywhere (what are you, blind?), they say they like our real woman asses much better than all those smooth-assed celebrities (how is that possible?) - so I want to know the TRUTH about cottage cheese thighs.

I'll have to admit to being frightened at this point. Much like Indiana Jones crossing the booby trapped (booby, hee hee) floor towards the golden statue in Raiders. One wrong step and I'll be turned into a pin cushion. Sigh. *adjusts his hat and loosens the whip* Ok, if your ass looks like an accordion, then no, that is not sexy, AT ALL. A little here and there? So what. First off, as ruggedly handsome as I am, this is not Michael Phelps body so who am I to go pointing fingers. Second, Cat, you're thinking like a woman. What do men really think about cellulite? If you're willing to have sex with us, what cellulite?

Finally, from Frogmama: I wanna know why men are such lazy, slovenly pigs who think farting, burping and BO are funny traits to pass along to their children?

Why are we lazy and slovenly? Well that just hurts, Frogmama. I'm not arguing with it, I just think you could have said it better. Farting, burping & BO? Well... they are funny. I have two sons, it's my duty as a man to pass down these things (and I'd probably still do it if I had a daughter, equal opportunity). My boys are too young for BO and they don't have the muscle control for burping on command, but when they're ready, I'll be there. Farting though! It was only a couple of weeks ago that I introduced them to "pull my finger." They thought this was the best thing ever. Then we had a quick meeting and decided that it might be best not to do this around mommy. Just this morning somebody cut one at breakfast but would not fess up to it. Fingers were pointed, accusations leveled and I honestly didn't know who did it. It was a proud moment. I had to get a tissue.

Every night before I get into bed I peel off my rank shirt, cup a hand beneath my armpit and gently waft in my scent. After carefully judging each one I proudly announce the winner to Supreme Leader who laughs and laughs. At least I'm pretty sure she's laughing and not gagging. No, it's laughing. The human body is a wondrous thing, it's only right that you teach your children everything. Hey. I haven't taught them how to make that farting noise with their armpits yet! Thanks, Frogmama.

And there you go, my first He Blogs/She Blogs, I hope I didn't screw it up too badly. To those of you who voted for my competition, I hope I put a smile on your face at some point here. Feel free to go to their site and tell them I sucked, I'll understand. Make sure to head over to Petra's The Wise (*Young*) Mommy to see the She side of the equation.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Just Chill

I found this on Ms. Salti and nearly peed myself. I showed it to Barak when he was up here on Thursday. Laughed his ass off.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Throwing In The Towel

You know what? Let's call this a week. I could make another excuse for a lame post, but I'm too lazy even for that. I think I just ran out of juice this week. Juice and time. I need a personal assistant. A morally flexible personal assistant. No, not in that way. Just someone who's comfortable with a knee capping and the occasional murder. Oh, and they should be good with kids. And make good coffee.

I posted a... post back in January on tilt shift photography. This is the same thing, only in video.

Bathtub IV from Keith Loutit on Vimeo.

I wrote a new story on the other site, so I guess I accomplished something this week.

BB Blog

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Thoughtless Thursday

Yes, that is a diaper on his head.

What? Lost, Life, Bones and Life on Mars are all on tonight.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Random Tuesday: Love, Head Trauma And Fish


Random Tuesday Thoughts, or it's Tuesday, time to take out the trash. Whatever. Let's do it.

Last Saturday was Valentine's and it was as juicy and squishy as my bacon wrapped heart. Supreme Leader and I don't usually do anything for this particular holiday because she doesn't like it. Then she goes and gets me a gift.

If you can't tell by the picture, it's a Moleskine notebook, which was really cool since I've been looking for a notebook for awhile now but kinda gave up on it because I couldn't find one I liked. She even got it from a store that I was planning to go to before forgetting about it. Then she gave me this card.

It's such a pretty little card she didn't even write anything in it because it's so cute she figured anything she wrote in it would take away from it.

I am that lucky.

When I try to upload a picture and the "upload an image" window is hidden under my browser and I don't see it so I keep hitting the picture icon over and over again cursing my computer, Blogger, Google, everyone but my dumbass self... actually, there's no question to this.

My mom was down for the weekend so we were able to go out for dinner Saturday night too. During dinner we sat beside a table of three couples and their young daughters. One of the ladies shouted out "Spice up your cooch!" at one point. Classy.

What the hell was with everybody wishing people Happy VD in blog comments? Where I come from VD stands for venereal disease. Happy Chlamydia to you too! Here, I gift wrapped your penicillin.

Saturday morning I woke up to a broken coffee machine. I must be growing as a person or I've learned to control the effects of gamma radiation. I will admit to considering the murder of my neighbours for their coffee, but I never followed up with it. Anything that may or may not have happened Sunday had nothing to do with me. I have an alibi.

While reading an email from Jen at Blissfully Caffeinated in which we were discussing headaches, Gmail provided me with these helpful ads. I particularly enjoyed the last one.
Migraine Causes, Treatments & Migraine Symptoms.
Sinus Headache
Headache Symptoms & Treatments.
Which Thyroid Treatments Work? You'll Be "Shocked" What We Found!
Bandsaw Blades Any Size
Custom Welded To Length, Shipped Free Same Day, Order On-line

Just in case I decide to give up?

If I see something that's yellow and have to mention it in conversation I will always say orange, or vice versa. That doesn't make me crazy, does it? I'd like to think it's just a lifetime of violent blows to the head. No, not violence induced blows to the head, violent from falling off cars and bicycles, buildings, rocks or just falling over.

iPod ten. And because somebody asked, they're ten songs that played in a row at some point of listening during the last week. Today's are 10 songs that came up while I was grocery shopping with my father-in-law. There's no editing out the embarrassing ones, trying to add in something cool, no apologizing, it's just the first 10 that come up.

1. Doug & The Slugs - Who Knows How To Make Love Stay
2. The Police - Sally
3. ACDC - Who Made Who
4. INXS - The Loved Ones (from Kick, one of the first CD's I ever bought)
5. Bon Iver - For Emma
6. Sade - Couldn't Love You More (I had a mad crush on her back in the day)
7. Janiva Magness - You Were Never Mine
8. The Killers - All These Things
9. Lauren Hill - I Just Want You Around (Unplugged) (great ending)
10. Macy Gray - Sex-O-matic Venus Freak

Finally, thank you to everyone who voted for me in the He Said/She Said blog-o-rama. Petra has handed over the keys to the Sanctum Sanctorum and I've appropriately wet myself. What the hell was I thinking?

PS. The video rental was disc one, season one of Weeds. (AWESOME)

PPS. My fish is not dead!

Monday, February 16, 2009

Everybody's A Critic

On advice of my Privy Council I will not be posting today.

"We didn't tell you not to post, we said your idea sucked."


"Meow. Who's the diva today?"


Friday, February 13, 2009

Happy Valentine's, Honey, Your Brain Smells Delicious

For the last few weeks, Viva, Bravo, PBS or the W Network has been playing A LOT of Jane Austen movies. During the same time period Supreme Leader has been enjoying reminding me when they would be on or how many hours until the next one was on or how much longer one would be on while I was downstairs watching something else. This was usually followed by some comment on the dreamy Mr. Darcy. Now, if I peed sitting down or wore the rainbow jersey I'd be more than happy to take a carriage ride with Colin Firth, but since I don't, I think I'll just play on the computer or watch The Sarah Connor Chronicles.

But it's Valentine's, so I decided to dust off the romance and find a little common ground.

"Pride and Prejudice and Zombies features the original text of Jane Austen's beloved novel with all-new scenes of bone-crunching zombie action. As our story opens, a mysterious plague has fallen upon the quiet English village of Meryton—and the dead are returning to life! Feisty heroine Elizabeth Bennet is determined to wipe out the zombie menace, but she's soon distracted by the arrival of the haughty and arrogant Mr. Darcy. What ensues is a delightful comedy of manners with plenty of civilized sparring between the two young lovers—and even more violent sparring on the blood-soaked battlefield as Elizabeth wages war against hordes of flesh-eating undead."

I know what you're thinking. She's a lucky woman. Yup. She sure is.

PS. Keely, this is for you too.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Men Are From Mars, Women From Venus and Stormtroopers Are From A Galaxy Far Far Away

So today is the last day of the He Said/She Said roller derby. Once today's hacks, Ryan from Pacing the Panic Room and Ron from Clark Kent's Lunchbox are done with their drivel I think the voting starts. Head on over to The Wise (*Young*) Mommy's and check them out. Joking aside, today should be pretty good.

I wasn't planning on posting today but since I've linked to Petra's all week Ryan and Ron would probably cry if I didn't mention them too. Since I didn't have anything prepared I just stole something from another blog. It's mine though so it's all good. Anyway, (I use 'anyway' far too much, don't I?) I watch a lot of Star Wars with the boys and after watching Return of the Jedi a few thousand time I got to wondering, what happened afterwards?

Kel Al’leth rested his head back against the drop ship’s bulkhead vainly attempting to think about anything besides the screaming descent rockets and shuttering frame of the ship. He hated orbital drops with a passion. If his platoon had been dropping onto a normal planet they could just fly in, but they kept getting these damn worlds with giant gaseous atmospheres you couldn’t safely fly through. “Fuckin’ Rebels, ” he muttered. That was probably the reason they chose these planets though.

Al’Leth didn’t even know the name of the planet they were landing on. He briefly admonished himself thinking he should probably know the name of the planet he could well die on, but then a sudden plunge in altitude followed by an even louder response from the stabilizers shook him out of it. We’ll be lucky to even see the surface, he thought. He sat forward again. The ship’s vibrations were being amplified by his helmet resting against the wall. Just then one of the new recruits sitting across from him lost his lunch. Kel shook his head watching the trooper’s bile slide down the front of his white chest piece. Bet he wishes he took his helmet off.

This mission, less than half of Al’leth’s platoon were actual clones. The rest, like him, were recruits. Before he’d left his small planet on the Outer Rim he had grown up on stories of the Stormtroopers and their glorious victories. The truth was somewhat disappointing. These weren’t the Troopers of the late Republic or the early Empire, these were cheap knock-offs, products of the lowest bidder. The Rebels could have saved a lot of effort by just waiting. Bureaucracy would be the Empire’s downfall.

Al’Leth tried thinking of his home world again. Two more cycles and he could go home. Growing up he’d wanted nothing except to leave, now all he wanted to do was go back. The galaxy was a shit hole. He’d seen enough. Could he survive two more cycles? With the amount of action they were seeing he was beginning to wonder. Seemed like every morning he woke up his Star Destroyer was in another part of the galaxy trying to put down another uprising or trying to forcefully convince another world not to go over to the rebellion. At least they weren’t fighting their own. It had been awhile since the last coup attempt.

It had been four years since Skywalker had killed Lord Vader and the Emperor and there had been nothing but fighting since. Al’leth was glad he’d missed the bulk of the power struggle to fill their void. Eight different admirals and generals had claimed their right as successor so far. The Empire had even split into three factions at one point. Luckily he’d only been through the last two attempts. They seemed to be slowing down, order was slowly reestablishing itself. The Empire was losing ground every where, but it was still an empire.

*PS. Until a week ago, I've never read any Star Wars fiction so there may well be scores of books written about what happened after they blew up the last Death Star. Whatever, this was for fun.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

He Said/She Said

"How's it going Mr. Peterson?"
"It's a dog eat dog world, Woody and I'm wearing Milk Bone underwear."

And with that I'd like to direct you to The Wise (*Young*) Mommy's site where today is my turn to compete for the lofty title of He in the He Said/She Said Olympics. Come on by. We'll laugh, we'll cry, I'll make some tea.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Random Tuesday: The Anatomy of a Stain*

*It's day two of the He Said/She Said show down, head on over afterwards. Today's pugilists are IB from Idiot's Stew and Joe from Crotchety Old Man Yells At Cars.


Blah blah blah. Go over to the Un-Mom and ask her if she's lost two pounds cause she's lookin' HAWT! Then you can grab a button and do one of these yourself.

I've totally lost the ability to park in a straight line. Parallel? I am a god. Parking spaces? I don't know. I just don't know anymore. I blame the van. It's like driving an egg.

Sunday morning I washed the kitchen floor and washed down all the counters. Then I washed the bathroom floors. I vacuumed the whole house and looked after the boys while Supreme Leader watched Penelope all alone and undisturbed. I am a trophy husband. My trophy is a Hoover dust canister.

I'd give damn near anything for my mini-van to make the sound of a TIE fighter.

Saturday, while walking through Sears, my oldest tells me that he thinks Japanese people have funny looking eyes. Um, Sugar Plum, have you taken a good look at yourself in the mirror? Mommy's family isn't Japanese, but you'll notice a certain similarity. And please don't speak when we're in public. Ever.

Kudos to J.Crew for putting Lauren Hutton on the cover of their February catalogue and not the usual sixteen year old model. And uh, the reverse for the bathing suit section. What?

All US readers skip this one. Any readers from England or the rest of the English speaking world today? Are you stuck with fucking Americanized English spell checker too? Hey hey hey! I told you to skip this part. Don't go gettin' all uppity. You know I still love you.

Because I hate cats.

In honour of his Thai heritage, I've named my Siamese Fighting fish tom yum goong.

Last 10 songs in my iPod:
1. Sarah Bareilles - Gravity (live)
2. Van Morrison - Someone Like You
3. Journey - Don't Stop Believing (Hell Ya!)
4. Hall & Oates - She's Gone
5. Bif Naked - I Love Myself Today
6. Matthew Good - In A World Called Catastrope
7. Barry Manilow - Mandy (yes, dammit, Mandy. What of it? Angel liked it too.)
8. Panic - The Smiths
9. Colin Hay - I Just Don't Think I'll Get Over You
10. Jet - Are You Gonna Be My Girl

*My boundless love if you get this one. No googling.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Monday: Ex Libris

*Before we go anywhere, make sure you stop by The Wise (*Young*) Mommy today. It's the start of the He Said/She Said pissing contest. Confused? Just go. Well, not yet. I mean, read me first, right. Today's contenders are Cajoh and Irish Gumbo. There will be blood.

My bed-side table.

Some time last year I was tagged by Heinous for a book meme. I held off doing it because, while I liked the meme and I love books, I wanted to do something a little different. Last week-ish I was tagged by Mama Dawg with another meme and since I still hadn't gotten around to my own book post I figured I should just do it. Plus, she's got that accent. You know, that read the phone book one?

So, first question is what book has been on your shelf the longest?

Mack Bolan: The Executioner.

Not exactly Dostoevsky, but it eventually led to Dostoevsky. And that's something I think parents should keep in mind. If your child is reading, it doesn't matter what kind of crap they're into, all that matters is that they are reading. Don't try and push books you enjoyed and that you think they should enjoy too. Let them get to it in there own time. Anyway, every Sunday my parents would sit down in the living room with a coffee or tea and read. One day I decided I wanted to join them and my dad gave me this. From there I went on to the Africa of Wilbur Smith and the swash buckling adventures of Clive Cussler. Then my mom gave me Leon Uris' Exodus. Oy! I loved that book. Then along came Stephen King and Tom Clancey and it never stopped.

A book you acquired in some interesting way (gift, serendipity in a used bookstore, prize, etc.):

I love history and art, so when The Book, A History of the Bible by Christopher de Hamel came out a few years back I asked for it for Christmas. Supreme Leader asked her sister to hide it in her house (like I'm a snoop or something) but she hid it so well she couldn't find it for nine months.

The most recent addition to your shelves:

Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin. I needed a new book like I need a hole in the head, but Middle Aged Woman recommended it. Yes, period. End of sentence. She is wise in the ways of The Force. High praise indeed. Well, that and I was looking for something historical.

A book that’s been with you to the most places: That would be this.

I bought it in Paris on September 14, 1990. According to a note I wrote inside it was soaked in a rain storm in Helsinki six days later. That book criss-crossed Europe a hundred times over. From Barcelona to Prague and from Rome to the Arctic Circle. It even crossed Canada in a Grey Hound.

There was one question that I didn't really like, a book that reminds you of something specific in your life (a person, a place, a time, etc.). Well, they all do in some way or another. Instead of that, how about last book finished? That would be The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon which was pretty good. It's basically a detective story that takes place in a world where Israel never became a country. Instead the European refugees of WWII are granted temporary residency in Sitka, Alaska. The story takes place 60 years later in the last few weeks leading up to the reversion when the Jews have to find another place to live. If you think that's a crazy idea, it was actually proposed to Congress in 1940.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Untitled: Part 4

*This was supposed to be the last part of this story but it ended up getting a little long so I'll post the rest tomorrow. Which also means I'll have to finish it. From now on I'm going to put all my short stories on my Word Press blog. If you missed the first 3 parts and don't have anything to do this weekend you can click the new link over on the right and find them there or try and dig around in here for them. Or get off the computer and spend some time with your family and friends.

I went home with a waitress,
The way I always do.
How was I to know,
She was with the Russians too.

I was gambling in Havana
I took a little risk
Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this, ha.

Warren Zevon pumps out of an old boom box thrown haphazardly on a desk. The desk sits before a floor to ceiling window with a stunning view of Los Angeles, just one of many things wrong with this picture. The view itself is a problem. It's crystal clear. Where is the ever present smog that blankets the city? Where too are the employees who should be filling this large office? Hundreds of cubicles sit empty, as do the desks of supervisors, assistant managers and managers that ring the entire floor. The glass walled vice presidents and presidents offices that occupy each corner of the building also sit empty. It may be due to the gun fire that has damaged half of the floor. The centre of the office is dominated by a large table that is covered with architectural drawings and file folders. Atop these sit two assault rifles, six handguns and boxes of ammunition. Spent shells litter the table and floor. Everything to the south of this table has been riddled with bullets. Light fixtures and panels hang from the ceiling, cubicle walls have large holes punched through them, bullet holes freckle the windows on the far side of the building. Only a portion of the president's door remains of his office walls. Whoever 'Jeremy'is, he's not going to be happy when he finally shows up for work. Worst hit though seems to be the Coke machine which sits in a pool of it's own brown carbonated blood. Strangest of all is the group of men and woman who sit around a gaping hole on the northern side of the building. Two well dressed but hard looking men sit with their backs toward the view. To their right sits a woman in a strange looking jump suit. Her head has been bandaged. Beside her sits a man in a Stormtrooper outfit. Sitting or standing, facing the windows are eleven soldiers. Two of them are woman and another two seem to be wearing futuristic body armour. To the well dressed men's left, leaning on a desk whose legs have collapsed, is an enormous man wearing a strange military uniform. Beside him is a similarly dressed man who doesn't appear to be entirely human. They are surrounded by empty beer bottles and pizza boxes. All of them are looking to one another, startled.

"Who did that?" asks the well dressed man in a black suit, slowly standing. Others are coming to their feet now too.
"Kel, turn down the music," says the woman with the head wound. The man in the Stormtrooper uniform reaches behind him and does so without turning his back on the room.
"Shit!" the man in the blue pin striped suit swears, under his breath, "he's here."
"What the HELL is going on here?" a disembodied voice booms out from everywhere. "Who wrote all of this? What the hell happened to this office? Why is that building on fire!?" A block or two over, the top 6 floors of another office tower smolder. Despite the damage done by the fire, what appears to be enormous claw marks can still be seen on the building.
"That was the, sorry," answers the black suited man.
"You don't have to apologize to him!" spits the pin striped man. Around him, soldiers have begun picking up their weapons.

Same office, three days later. Most of the soldiers lie in various states of sleep on top of desks, in chairs or on the floor. The enormous man stands beside the window with Sarah Farad. He's taken off the upper body section of his mechanized body armour which sits on the floor beside a broken desk. The desk is cracked from where he originally tried to sit the massive chest piece. They are sharing a bucket of KFC and discussing something in hushed voices. In one of the corner offices, the two suited men can be seen arguing heatedly about something. The office doors are shut so the sound of their words is muted. Even without the thick glass, the sigh of the ocean breeze coming through the shattered windows drowns out most of their discussion. The downtown office building is nowhere near the ocean, yet it is now surrounded by water. The islands of other office buildings are now the only sign of the city they were once in.

"So the dragon wasn't enough? You had to flood Los Angeles as well?" asks the Voice from above. Across the floor the sleeping soldiers roll to their feet and spread out, weapons at the ready. "Stand down," commands the giant man as he hands the bucket of chicken to the woman beside him. "Lower your weapons, now." Even though he is not their commander, his voice does not brook argument. "Apologies, sir."
"Why the hell does everybody think we need to apologize to him?" bellows the pin stripe suited man marching out of the office.
"We've been over this," growls Jarel. He too has picked up his weapon, but the grisly veteran has sat back down to see how things play out.
"You gonna' disappear again like last time?" pin stripe asks the ceiling.
"I'm trying to potty train my son, he's real so he gets priority," answers the voice.
"Great. That's just great. So first off we're just an image you jot down and forget, now we're taking a back seat to potty training. You know, as a creator, you really suck."
"What?" asks the Voice, incredulously.
"You heard me-"
"Easy, my friend," said the Fleet Lord.
"Why? Cause he might delete me? Well maybe he can't now, did you ever think of that?" spits pin stripe. Then back to the voice, "We broke out of our note, who's to say we can't just keep going? We're on the internet now."
"Not if you're deleted," answered the Voice.
"Really, well what if somebody still has us sitting on their computer in an open window? What if somebody copied us? Kinda hard to delete us then, isn't it?"
"You've got a point there. Look, I went back and read you guys from your break out. I'll admit I was pissed at what you did to the office, but I'm impressed. That said, I do have a pro-"
The voice stops as the men's room door opens and a dark haired man in jeans and a grey sweatshirt emerges. The two suited men look to one another. Pin stripe hisses under his breath, "I thought you were going to tell him to stay out of here!"
"I was going to, I just-"
"Tell me that's not who I think it is," demands the voice.
"Hi guys," says Denny Duquette sheepishly.
"Oh no, he cannot be here," commands the Voice.
"Why not? His writers screwed him over just as badly as you're screwing us," pin stripe throws back.
"They only wrote me so I could die and then they won't let me go. Really, I don't have anything else to do now once I get the next few episodes done," said Duquette.
A loud flapping of wings attracts everyone's attention to the shattered windows. A large heron has flown in and now sits perched on file cabinet.
"You made hot monkey love to Izzy Stevens for the first half of the season, you have nothing to complain about. Screwed over or no, you can't be here," said the heron.
"Irish? Is that you?" said the Voice.
"You don't know what I look like Captain, hence the bird. Duquette has to go now."
"I know. Sorry Denny, but I really can't have you here," the Voice apologizes.
"But-" Denny winks out of existence and the room is silent except for the sigh of wind through the broken windows.
"Jesus," whispers black suit.
"We told you bringing him in was a bad idea," said Captain Decker.
"So what now?" asked pin stripe quietly. The bravado has faded in the wake of the Voice's real power. "We disappear too?"
"I don't know, but I guess we need to talk about this," answers the Voice.
"Sir," the woman with the bandaged head raises her hand tentatively.
"Yes, Sarah?" asks the Voice.
"We've been cooped up in this office for a few weeks now, could we talk somewhere else?"
Pin Stripe opens his mouth to say something but before he can the scene shifts to a large apartment above the Quai des Grands Augustins. Across the water sits the Île de la Cité. Notre Dame is to their right, to their left, on the far side of the Seine, sprawls the Louvre. "Uh... this will do," said Sarah. One of the soldiers, Francois Genet, walks out onto the balcony smiling. "Home, sweet home," he says. "October?"
"Yes," answers the Voice, "I can make it spring if you like?"
"No, let's keep it fall," said Daniel Park, one of the future soldiers, "it was too damn hot in that office."
"Ok, let's get comfortable and we can talk about this," said the Voice. With that the apartment fills with sofas and chairs and a large table covered with food, coffee, tea and various bottles of alcohol. Some of the soldiers look towards Captain Decker who looks to the ceiling. "You're not on duty, Captain, you can all relax."
The captain smiled and reached for a glass.


What? I can barely open my eyes. If you want a good laugh, go check out Petra's post from yesterday and make sure to read the comments. Seriously, go. Nothing to see here but a sniffling cry baby. You're probably already infected. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Random Tuesday: We Kissed, As If Nothing Would Fall*


Right. Let's get to it.

I received an angry email yesterday from Iowa insinuating I have some type of cranial flatulence issue. While that may well be, forgetting her pictures was an accident. So without further ado, the lovely and forgiving Church Punk Mom: "Here's mine.. the verse it references is, "Consider the ravens: They do not sow, or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!" It's my little reminder to myself that I'm important to God and He's always got my back... cause I seem to forget that.. like.. a LOT."

and here is my husband's... it reads: "Dead to sin, Alive in Christ".. the red arrow represent his sin, which is broken and the two different color eyes are the old him changing to the new him. He likes to use 'band art' for his tattoos.

We're all about customer satisfaction here at Us & Them.

The other day I was out returning some movies. I drive into the strip mall the video store is located in and am immediately nearly t-boned on either side by two Mercedes who apparently believe their right of way is righter than mine because their rides have five digits in the price tag. Well kids, here's the thing. This is a four year old Caravan, I am well insured and my children are not in the car. Not only am I not slowing down because I have the right of way, I am speeding up. Let's test all those vaunted German safety features! Will I get hurt? Don't care! You're payin!

How is it that 'righter' gets past spell check?

Four months after starting to paint my bathroom it is finally finished. I don't like to rush things.

Saturday morning I was just about to leave the house when I noticed my shirt smelled. Like really smelled. Like wet goat who has eaten a durian and has bad gas. Don't know what a durian is, ok, wet goat who has eaten a rotting corpse and has bad gas. I thought maybe I'd forgotten to put on deodorant. Not that I smell that bad (I hear Supreme Leader laughing). So I put on some more deodorant and a new tshirt and off we go. Later in the day I realize the smell is back. Rewind three or four days. Liam wakes up with a fever. While sitting with me at the computer he throws up over my shoulder. SL cleans it up with a bath towel that eventually gets buried beneath a pile of other laundry and forgotten amidst countless other disasters. Yes the room smells, but we figure it's from the carpet where the puke originally hit (hence the current search for a steam cleaner). Friday I discovered it and did a load of laundry. Same load the two shirts were in. See, it wasn't me. I'd never eat a rotten corpse.

Ikea: Swedish for designed in Hell for your suffering. You know what's more fun than going to Ikea on a Sunday afternoon and then having your 3 and 5 year old try to help you assemble 3 book shelves? Having the five year old lean on a shelf that is only attached by those little f*cking dowels while you search for a screw. Then you get to go back to Ikea! Despite all the crying (his!) I think this may have been Connor's plan so he could go back for more ice cream.

Speaking of Ikea, while I loaded the car (first time), Supreme Leader took the boys to get their ice cream. When the server handed them over a woman beside SL started complaining that SL had received more ice cream than she did. Why? Why did I decide to load the car and come back?

Dear (insert name of American retailer, large or small who doesn't ship to Canada), Hello? This isn't North Korea or another planet. Granted there isn't a lot of us up here, but still, there's quite a few of us. It's like deciding not to sell to California. We want to buy your stuff. We have money. Yes, it comes in a kaleidoscope of colours, but it's still money. Look, this whole recession thing? Hitting us too, but not as bad. We can help. Really. sells like, everything. I can buy a fork.

I think I've been screwing up Random Tuesday Thoughts by not hitting some button thingy at Un-Mom's. Guess I should have mentioned her up top too. I meant at the top of the page, not her... you know, top... though I'm sure it's worth mentioning. Er... watch the video.

*name it.

Monday, February 2, 2009


Finally. It's three days late, but whatever, not like I'm on a time table. First off, I'd like to thank everybody who participated, I wish I could have used all of them, but the stupid (insert a long profanity laden rant here. Really, cover your ears, it's bad) site I tried to use to assemble all of my pictures had a minimum which it didn't actually tell me about until after I'd loaded 49 pictures into my Flickr account. Whatever, let's get past it.

As usual, the pictures are posted in the order I received them with mine first because I'm special. And pretty. Oh, so pretty. Pretty, and witty and straaaaaaaaight! Sorry, it's been stressful. Anyway. First pic is of the boy's Thai names, Mongkhun and Montri. What really made these special was that my supervisor at the time and I discovered that the 'gigantic financial institution' we worked for had nothing in the HR policy to say we couldn't have visible tattoos. Muah ha haaa! The back piece? If you want the skinny on that you can go here.

Jess from This Life Is Mine. "My boss is from Iran so I had him write it out for me...I feel confident it doesn't say "My secretary sucks" or anything as hilarious as that. It says Āmīn which in Americaneese (Amen) means "Verily", "Truly", "So be it", and "Let it be". Word to your mutha.

Second is a photo of my ankle area. I was born in 1981. Clever. There is an up close and far away for your "Where is that on her body?" perspective pleasure. I had help taking the one of my whole foot. My office mate took the picture for me and then said my foot looks like a penis. I am not sure how to feel about that.

Last of all, I give you, in all it's glory, all of my tattoos in one shot...well, save the ankle, I'm good, but I'm not THAT good.
The sun was the first tattoo I ever got and I drew it up and the tattoo artist made it hotttt. Literally. I really couldn't get the flames to do right in my drawing. The second tattoo I got was the blue flames covering my flanks. Then I got the triquetra, which means Father, Son and Holy Ghost. What can I say? I am a spiritual lil shit.

I would like to give a shout out to my Irish and Scottish heritage. I challenge anyone to a freckle face-off. Yep, I win.

Wendy from Among Mad People. Wendy gave me a story on her tats, but I cannot find the email as I probably deleted it when I downloaded the picture. To make up for this I suggest going to Wendy's site and checking her title picture, it's great.

Michelle from Michelle's Blog. "Well, they're not real but they were fun! One is mine and one is Peanut's... I'll let you figure out which is which."

The Mister. "The short people's little foot prints, from the hospital, in order of appearance."

Nonna from Nonna's Nonsense.

Larry in MN

Amy's hubby.

Goodfather's much better half.

Jodi from Jodiferous. "Right after I got it. It's on my back shoulder. It's a flaming chalice, the symbol of the unitarians. The flames are green because it's my favorite color. Designed by my friend kam.

Melanie from A Day In The Life Of... Oh ya, and she's my sister. Thankfully she only sent in two pictures. She has... thirteen altogether? She had my niece and nephew write their names out for the first pic below.

IB from Idiot's Stew.

Lo from Slap Happy Musings.

Momma Trish. "This is an anklet, and it's actually the second line of Clair de Lune (by Claude Debussy). It took more work than the artist had anticipated, and he really never wanted to replicate it, so it's a one-of-a-kind."

Tattooed Mini Van Mom. TMVM sent me a couple links to two posts she'd done on her and her husband. I'd have loved to put them all up, but my eyes are actually bleeding now so I've only picked a few. If you'd like to see more, go here.

Mr. Tattooed Minivan Mom. I couldn't put all of his in, but here's a few. Which, now that I look at them are really really small. WTF? This post is cursed. It's like the Bermuda Triangle of blogs. Hell, I'm not even trying to fix this. If you'd like to see the rest, check him out. Sorry, TMVM.

Anonymous. And if you're one of the two readers who may recognize these, shhhh! She wants to be anonymous.

Louize from Geez Louize. "Ahhh...story....So, it had only been a week into finding out that my soon to be x had just cheated on me. A trip to Vegas with my sister had already been planned. It was a much needed trip at the time.
I had already decided to leave the bastard. But when I was young I had a tattoo on my ankle of a yellow rose. The bastard always bought me yellow roses. I all of a sudden hated the thing. One night while talking with my sister we decided that the next morning we would go over to Hart & Huntington at the Palms and see what they could do to either change it or make it into something else. After much deliberation...I just decided to change the color of the rose to purple. (I can stand to look at it now)
But, while we were waiting my sister and I decided to get inked together. Something to commemorate "US" and this time in our lives. (also at the time my son had been cancer free for a year). We have always called each other "chick". We wanted something simple, pretty, and US. We looked at the books they had...nothing was "us". And we really didn't want to pick something out of a book. We spoke to the tattoo artist and told him what we were looking for and he drew up a few pictures. What he drew was perfect!!! "US"

*Late arrival. The lovely ankle of Vodkamom.

This will be the last Friday pics (yes, it's Monday) post I do for probably ever. They've been fun, but more work than I usually like to do for anything. Really, I was hoping for some naked pictures so this was really disappointing.

Thanks again to everybody who sent in photos, for this one and all the previous ones.