JESUS DANCE!!!

First I have to give a shout out to my homey Will

WILL ROCKS!!!

Ok...total filler today...but very necessary...your daily dose of blasphemy...

The Jesus Dance...sing it loud peeps...

http://www.angelfire.com/id/hern/

hahaha

-The BB

Bird...Bird, bird, bird, bird, bird

This comic should start things up nicely...

http://www.twolumps.net/d/20040428.html

Ok, come back to me...right now Polarhound and the hubby are laughing their butts off. Polarhound is having a big laugh cause he was front and center for the show this weekend in my house. But first, before I share with you...some backstory.

I have three cats. There's Mystic (18--old as dirt), Sterling (9--dumb as dogshit), and Sable (4--mischevious as hell). Mystic and Sable are fearless. Sterling is afraid of everything in this world. He's afraid of air. He's afraid of my fuzzy little bunny (it's a killer I tell you!).

Mystic and Sable leave me presents. Presents in the cat sense (see where this is going?). Now keep in mind...I only got Mystic when he was 15. Before I got him, he never went outside. Never caught a mouse...never killed a living thing. He sure as hell tried to kill other cats and dogs in the house cause Mystic don't take shit...but he never succeeded. However, when he moved in with me, I kept him in the basement at Kiki's house. And I also let him out. This is how much this cat came to love me. He gave me his first now...his first kill. So sweet. Unfortunately...Mystic's volatile nature showed in his killing. Mystic doesn't just leave me dead mice. He has been known to add a violent spin to his killings. I've been left mice with their brains bashed out...mice with an obvious claw to the brain, and mice skinned completely (yes skinned...one reason to not miss Buddy TSCGirl). While this is impressive to me in one sense...it's completely horrifying in the other. But I cover my horror and always show Mystic gratitude for the present ("Oh thank you sooooo much. Was this mooshed mouse for me?")

Sable...Sable was born to kill. She has always had access to the outside. And like a true girl...she always leaves me fresh clean, killed mice...usually on my dining room chair or in front of the door. Such a lady.

This summer, my cats (or cat in this case), have been leaving me...birds. I started finding dead birds in front of the door or at the bottom of the stairs in the back. No one was fessing up to who was doing it. However, the deaths were not extremely violent and while Mystic for his age if very active...I figured he wasn't the one climbing the trees to get to the birds. I dedueced it was Sable...and I soon found out first hand, I was right.

As I said, Polarhound was visiting this weekend. We were having a nice time and he was giving all my animals such wonderful attention. I was letting Sable in and out of the house because of the nice weather. On Sunday, I went to let Sable in out of habit and she came walking towards the door. However...she wasn't alone...in her mouth...was...a bird...

bird, bird, bird, bird, bird....

A pretty bird.

A cute, little, pretty, brown bird...

My first thought: Wow, that's talent...

Then after that second...I did the womanly shriek and "uhuuuh, uhuhhuh" followed with violent shaking and arm waving. I slammed the door in Sable's face (which in retrospect was very rude considering she was giving me a present...but hey, womanly instincts kicked in). As I stood at the door thanking Sable for my gift and begging her to drop it, Polarhound came up behind me. He glanced over my shoulder, and smiled at Sable bearing her gift. Then he dropped the bomb.

"It's not dead."

"WHAT?!"

I mean it looked dead...it was in her mouth...it's eyes weren't blinking (do birds even blink?), they were wide open like in fright...had to be dead. Turns out...Polarhound was right.

Sable softly dropped her present after lots of pleading from me and the bird just sat there, shocked. He wobbly tried to gain his bearings. Then Sable went in to scruff him again and

SWOOSH...bird went flying. Sable went running after it...but once it was airborne...birdie was gone with me calling after it "RUN LIKE THE WIND FOREST!"

After that I refused Sable entry until she got bird out of her mouth. (God I'm a mean mommy). We worked out our issues later...but Polarhound sure enjoyed the show.

Birdie BB

Boob Lament...

So the boob had a cold this weekend. Naturally, who gets it? Moi, of course. Hubby is away sailing at the Solomon Islands, so he's free from germs. This actually works well for me cause I don't need him getting this. He would just whine consistently (I"M TIRED...I'M SICK). He's a man, they do that (LOVE YOU HONEY...but you know I'm right).

I really would like him around though to help suck out the boob's snot. I use that bulb thingy, but she's on to me. She tosses, turns and screeches something fierce. I admit to evil thoughts as I try to get that bugger sucker in her nose...Don't worry ya'll, I'm spoiling her rotten. She's slept in bed every day she's been sick. It'll be fun when we are all well again.

In other news...it's friggin hot out here and damn, I forgot to water my garden...I hope it forgives me.

Slight off track subject...sorry...

So what's the title today...oh boobs...yeah...I lost mine...no kidding...I can thank the boob for that. Well the boob and my extreme will power to not eat a whole box of cookies anymore.

It all became clear during a mall romp the other day when I went to get Margie her birthday gift. I went to Victoria Secret to get sized up for a post baby bra. I noticed they weren't the knockers I had when I was nursing, but I expected them to be my normal 32C, maybe even a 34 C. The thought of me being 34C actually excited me cause like I can buy bras off a rack and not have to order them from a catalog anymore...meant I can find a bra in my size. This also meant I could buy bras in other colors...not just white or beige (yawn).

I do have plenty of 32 C bras at home. However, hubby requested new bras because...well he hates my granny bras. He wants sexy...black...underwire (he's pushin it at the last one...I LOATH underwire...gives me nothing but bruises). Sharing alarm go off yet?

Ok...at Vicky's...I gingerly go and ask a sales lady if she would measure me. I figure she would lead me in back and measure me there. Oh no, no. She goes, gets her tape, and measures me in the MIDDLE OF THE STORE! I'm standing there, she measures me and goes...

"Ok, you are about 33 (figures, I have to be a fucking odd size there...excuse french...but it's frustrating) and cup size...A"

"WHAT!" I screech in the middle of the store...I'm sure people are looking at me. I continue

"I haven't been an A since before puberty! I've been a 32 C since high school. I just had a baby...are you sure?"

She was sure. She took at two bras for me to try on. One 32B (to humor me) and a 34 A. I tried the 32 B...tight...looked like I was popping out. I thought..."No freaking way is this 34 A going to fit". God dammit it did. Fit nicely to. Was this nice black, no underwire bra...fit me like a glove. I look at the price tag...$42.

Making the girls look nice for hubby isn't worth $42. However, she shows me the other bras like it. I have to admit...I stared longingly at the rainbow before me...blue, pink, beige, black, white, even purple (insert coat of many colors song here). However, $42...hell no.

Then my real feelings popped into my head. I lost my boobs. I was sad. Yeah it was cool not having to lug around 32C jugs (or even 36Es for that matter--nursing boobs), but there was this dread. My first thought was..."The hubby is going to be so sad...he likes boobs. Ihave no boobs for my husband...". Then I felt this loss. I felt like I was nothing without my boobs.

Now I know this is horseshit. And I also know a big reason why my boobs are an A is because nursing sucked most the muscle out of them. Coupled with my recent weight loss...and voila...boobage loss. I'm sure some excercise and the inevitable post nursing weight gain will bring them back. There is also the dealing with the difference in feel of my boobs. They are softer from nursing...flater (no shit...I'm an A...I'm Skipper flat). Furthermore, I know I am so much more than my boobs. But you know...32Cs...I dealt with them for so long...we've been through so much...the agony of searching for a strapless bra in Kohl's. The disappointment in finding anything in any store anywhere that wasn't underwire or under coverage. Then there was the ordering through catalog upon catalog for years...

wait a minute...I'm MISSING THIS???

You know what...I'm keeping the weight off...I lost it fair and square (no I didn't)...it stays off. And screw this...I'll just wait until next year when I get knocked up again and enjoy those pregnancy boobs and the subsequent nursing boobs...

But should I still get a new bra for hubby? Let's see what the good old hanes catalog has...maybe I can get a black bra for him...

-The BB.

At the Fair

First things first...did you vote today? If you didn't vote for Days Awake today, you NEED to vote!! The only Jersey band in the competition needs everyone's help. See my previous post and click on the banner there and vote ya'll!! They were in first place yesterday. The bro called me on my cell tweakin' about them being in first place. I IM'd J to congrat him and he started tweakin' cause he didn't know. So let's keep the two guys tweakn eh?

Anyhoo...as we speak it's 10pm and the boob is still up and about. She's been overstimulated from attending the Fauquier County fair. Even letting her sleep in our bed isn't helping.

Ah, the Fauquier County fair...I basically paid $10 to have a $4 funnel cake and buy $20 worth of Tupperware (I seriously wanted those kiddie sippy cups...what parent doesn't need them?...me that's who...but I LOVE Tupperware). My friend Margie wanted to go and bring her son. They had a special on rides. Pay $10 and have unlimited rides (as opposed to fleecing you for $3 per ride).

I had to admit, it was nice because we got together with our local mommies group. I got to hang with another mom we has a little baby. We sat on the bench with our little babies as we swealtered in the heat and we mocked all the inbreds. Carly and I agreed we are going to Hell in a handbasket, but at least we won't be alone.

The Fauquier fair was small. There wasn't as much in food I thought there would be. There wasn't even alot of fair food. There was funnel cake, candy apples, cotton candy, but no fried oreos or twinkies. Guess this was a low fat fair. Also there wasn't a whole mess of rides. Not even a ferris wheel. What the hell was up with that.

What I have to admit is cool about living in a farming community is that they don't skimp on the animals. They had tents just for goats. Then there were the cows (and the corn), the bunnies, the chickens, and the ducks. The boob got a kick out of watching the animals.

The boob was awesome considering she had to sit in a stroller or in my arms today. I have to say I am totally and utterly proud of her. I'm one lucky mama.

I can't believe how tired I am though. How come this kid isn't?

-The BB (*sniff, sniff* I smell a county fair in the area).

The Suped up Golf Cart

Sometime last year, I was taking a walk in the neighborhood. Suddenly, I heard this loud, 'thup, thup thup'. It was the sound of a loud bass heavy radio. I looked around, expecting to see a really suped up car or pimped out truck like I used to see in New Jersey. Well, I was very much taken by suprise when a group of teenager zipped past me in a golf cart.

I can't make this up people...a golf cart. A golf cart with a really good sound system too apparently. I'm guessing the teenagers involved are middle/early high school age and don't have their drivers licenses yet. Either that, or they think it's fly to cruise Bealeton in their gas friendly golf cart. I mean really, it probably is better than dragging out mom and dad's F150. I have to say however, I was very much impressed with the sound system. Mom and Dad hooked their kids up good with that one.

This whole post was inspired by the fact I had a golf cart sighting the other day. Must be that time of year again...

-The BB (short and sweet and to the point today).

Vote for Days Awake to play Lollapalooza 2006

V\

Days Awake Makes Round 3

I was AIM talking with Polarhound when I realized today (yesterday actually) was July 7th. I checked the Lollapalooza website to see if Days Awake made it to Round 3 of the Last Band Standing contest. I'm sitting there waiting for the website to load. It was painfully slow (meant to me it was recently updated in the process of). I saw the list of bands that made it to the next round, but it wasn't complete. I start getting antsy. Then it dawns on me "I know an easy way to find this out". I quickly find the link in my history for the Days Awake space on the Lolla site. It takes a bit to load, but then I see it...the little 'vote' button. "HOT DAMN THEY DID IT". That's right Days Awake made it to Round 3 of the Last Band Standing contest. They need your help now more than ever...go vote!!! And, J, I'm too proud of you (I'm sure I'm way more excited about this than he is...lol).

Oh and if anyone is coming to my house today...you should be forwarned...you'll be asked a cover charge to vote for Days Awake (ya'll think I'm kidding, but I'm not...this computer will be all set up for it).

I don't play...

-The BB

At the gas station

Okay, so I pull into the gas station by the 7-Eleven cause it's a whole one cent cheaper than the Liberty station down the street. In this day in age, a whole cent cheaper gas can turn into 10's of dollars by the end of the month. Unfortunately, other people in Bealeton are on to this too. So, I must wait in line for my gas.

The other day, however, was the worst. I pull in, and I'm waiting, and waiting, and waiting. I'm thinking 'WTF'? There are two cars in front of me. I'm thinking, i cannot move up until the person most forward is done, cause apparently gas station etiquette says you must pull all the way forward when getting gas (yes, apparently there is gas station etiquette).

So I'm waiting. I must have been lucky because BOTH people were taking a really long time. The woman in the back pump, finally decided to get out of her car and walk up to pay for her gas. She's walking very slowly with no sense of urgency and I keep saying to myself "Don't be hatin' ". Calming breath. It's all good.

Then I look at the aisle next to me. A man in a very old Ford pickup pulls up and starts to get out of his car to pump his gas. First he parks completely askew to the pump. Like his gas tank couldn't be farther from the actually pump. I'm thinking when all was said and done, he parked his car so his gas tank was in Remington (the town next to us...get it?). The man gets out and is moving slower than slow. I take a closer look and realize this man is on cruthes and he's trying to pump his gas. Poor fellow, too bad I wasn't feeling charitable, or I would have helped him.

This man, who takes FOREVER to even get to his pump, is done BEFORE the other two in front of me even think about paying for their gas. The woman in the behind pump goes in to pay. She walks in, and walks out, slower than a turtle. I watch her and think "Who the hell pays their gas in cash anymore? Geezus, use a freaking debit card and stop carrying cash that muggers can take from you."

Woman at behind pump leaves. I start to edge forward, hoping man at front pump is done. No, he isn't. Dumb ass is just GETTING OUT of his car to START pumping his gas. But first he has to go pay too, inside (super dumb ass). All the while talking on his cell. Must have been on an important phone call, too important to pump and talk at the same time.

I say, "Frig it", I go and pull up behind him and start to pay and pump. I decided to screw around with the guy when I notice he's watching me and do the whole 'wash my windows routine' (ya'll know what I'm talking about). He actually finishes before me and leave (amazing when you set your mind to something how fast you can accomplish it).

There, I am, pumping, thinking, I have seen it all. Suddenly, I look over and see it, a woman walking into 7-Eleven with a shopping cart. You can't make this stuff up if you tried, people. Like what do these people think? Do they think 'convienence' or do they think they just love paying through the nose for a bag of Combos?

"See ya later honey, i'm gonna go get some groceries at the 7-Eleven" --

"Don't forget the pork rinds sugah"

Amen...BB

Ritacco has to Share

Silver, this is for you...

I was driving around Toms River during my trip up there. It was actually the fateful day I did the swimsuit search. During my drive, I passed by High School North. Next to North is this new fangled theatre/center. There I saw it, in huge letters.

POLAND SPRINGS/RITACCO CENTER

I giggled slightly to myself and think "How is the egomaniac Ritacco handling sharing his name with Poland Springs?"

I'm sure he is quite miffed.

The story goes back years ago to when I first entered the Toms River School system. That same year Ritacco was elected school superintendent. He first came by my high school to lecture us on bringing weapons to school. he also warned us on our fashion habits.

"No one is allowed to wear anything with an eight ball on it. If you come to school wearing anything with an eight ball on it, you'll be suspended."

First of all, without going into depth on the demographics of the area at the time, I'm just going to say...no one in my school...well a very small percentage at the time...not even worth counting, no one, wore anything with an eight ball on it...nada...This warning came during a time when kids in more urban areas were getting shot for wearing certain clothes. In retrospect, I can't see anyone in Toms River getting shot over wearing an eight ball jacket (using a piggy lighter, definitely, eight ball jacket, no).

I think Ritacco was trying to make himself just look big and bad. Actually, as I recall, his lecture to us pretty much came down to: "If you do this, you'll get suspended". (Think someone was tossing his inferior parts around to make himself feel important--just a guess).

Anyway, moving on, flash to years later. Toms River is building this arts center in hopes of drawing big names into the town like...The Backstreet Boys...and...Clay Aiken (you know, people that really draw a crowd). So Toms River build this place and they decided to name it The Ritacco Center.

My god, is there NO ONE ELSE in Toms River to name this place after? No one who's done good in the community? No good samaritan? No one with a heart? You name a place after a school superintendent? (and this is a teacher talking here). Not a mayor? not a freeholder? Not the chief of police? Not a major business owner? (I mean come on, Clancy has his name all over Beachwood, why not Toms River too?)

I would have loved to have been at the meeting where they decided on the name.

"Let's see who's the biggest choda we can name this place after?"

"How about Ritacco?"

"Perfect!"

Money HAD to have been involved for Ritacco to get his name smeared on this place. I think for two years it was strictly known as The Ritacco Center. Then last year, Poland Springs gave a boatload of money to the place and up came the additional name.

Personally, I think they should take down Ritacco. It may enable them to get bigger headliners. you know, like Nsync.

-The BB.

Fireworks in Bealeton

I hate to be catty...but I drank a glass of wine and it went right to my head so what the hell...

Ok, so my friend Margie asked the neighbors if they were doing a 4th of July party like last year. They told her no they weren't. But I look outside shortly before 9pm. There wasn't a party, but there was a nice gathering for fireworks. Like why not say "hey we aren't doing a party per se, but feel free to watch our fireworks and if you got some, bring some. But no biggie if you don't."

But whatever, we had fireworks and we still watched theirs from my stoop. And the illegal towing company down the street even invited us to watch fireworks at their place too. They had awesome, big firworks. You know the kind that are the size of a coffee can before you light them.

I have to say, this is the best benefit of living in VA. Fireworks are legal. Well not ALL fireworks. The ones that launch aren't legal. But we don't give a rats ass in Bealeton. We don't have a police station or fire company. So who aren't here really gives a shit? No one. Even my straight as arrow neighbors got the launchers. Legal fireworks rule. Illegal ones rock.

It was awesome. Not only did we have fireworks. But neighbors on all sides had them. Margie's son was going nuts over watching them all. He was laughing and doing a happy dance while watching all the visual stimulation. He could barely keep up with which fireworks were coming from where. They could be coming from the cul-de-sac in front of us, or the one behind us, or they could be coming from the field down the road. We even waited to start our fireworks until we finished watching some of our neighbors.

Nothing like a neighborhood effort to make fourth of July in Bealeton fun.

But I have one complaint...who names a firework 'Golden showers'
Some sick bastard that's who.

Tomorrow: I owe Silver a post...big time...it'll be good, i promise..

-The BB.