Buckets

I've heard that everyone has a "Bucket List." I don't actually have mine written down, but there are a few things I've wanted to do, and I realize over the past few years, I've been able to do them.

They're not big things. They're not world-changing things.

But they've been things I wanted to do, and I've gotten to do them.

One of them was this:

See Nick Lowe perform. A year ago last September, that happened. A friend from work, who actually knew who he was and I drove 2 hours to see him. He performed my favorite song (I Knew the Bride) and hers (Allison) Also, heard a few songs I either didn't know were his, or hadn't heard before.

Two:

See Lynyrd Skynyrd. Did that this summer, with My Sweetie, the Toad, and the Howler. They also knew I was in the audience, because they also played my favorite song (Gimme Three Steps) the Howler's (Sweet Home Alabama) and the Toad's (Simple Man) The Howler got the T-shirt, because as parents, we're pretty great that way.

Three:

At first, it was to get myself to Conneaut Lake Park and ride the Blue Streak--one of the oldest wooden roller coasters in America--then it was to take the Toad so he could ride it. Did that several years ago. Gave up being able to take the Howler, because CLP is in sad shape these days. Discovered that it was open this summer, and took the Howler. (She absolutely loved it!) Does that count as 3 items, or one with sub-categories? I think it's a 3-fer, and it's my List. So nyah nyah nyah.

Four:

Eat John's Wildwood Pizza. Ate a LOT of it in 3 years at Edinboro University, but haven't had it since 1992 or 1993. Did that at the beginning of this month. We were in Edinboro anyway, and My Sweetie (always a good sport about my insanities) got ourselves a pizza. It was as good as I remember! Not sure if that counts as a Bucket List item either, but again, nyah nyah nyah.

Five:

Design & build a store display window. A good friend of ours has her office downtown, and I asked if I could do her window for Christmas. Luckily, she was ready for a new thing--and I got to do it! Of course, My Sweetie was, as always, a very good sport about it, and built the fireplace (in 2 days!) and was a good-natured pack-mule for hauling, lifting and moving. He also decorated the tree, helped with the higher stuff this short girl couldn't reach, and in general was helpful and non-grouchy about it. I'm pretty pleased with my first effort and will spend the next month gearing up to do it again in January!

In 14 months, I've completed 5 things I've always wanted to do. Now if I could just get my damned poetry manuscript published, I'd have to start over on with a new Bucket!

MIA

Yes, I've been MIA. Lots going on, and I'm not doing it. Obviously.

Still working retail. Still getting random weirdness. Still dealing with OPK and assorted crazy.

I promise, tho, I'm working on actually writing again. Soon. Before I go insane from all the words still bashing 'round my head.

Just so you know what to look forward to:

~My brother is a jackass. Possibly the King of Jackasses.

~I've worked retail for almost 12 years now. This qualifies me as insane.

~I still don't like OPK.

~I have a neighbor, a friend really, who attracts more weirdness than I ever did.

~And finally, I'm actually gonna comment on a controversial issue.

Up On The Housetop...

My Sweetie talked to his mother today. Apparently, his father decided that today would be a good day to clean out the chimney, so the woodstove would fireup better.

Keeping in mind that the Old Man didn't want to get up on the ladder last month to clean out his gutters, or his daughters gutters, he got out the ladder and got up on the roof. He had his scrubbing brush with him and he scrubs the crud out of the chimney.

He then realizes that at 83 years old, and with gout in his foot & leg, he can't get his legs swung back onto the smaller of his two ladders to get down.

My mother-in-law and the anxiety prone sister-in-law have to get the big aluminum ladder from the garage and drag it around to where they can put it up to the roof so he can get down. If they hadn't been home, or my mother-in-law had been home alone, he'd have been stuck up there for hours, or until the fire department was called.

Lovely.

Maaaarcoooooooooo

Polo!

The other day at work, the doors slid open and a voice rang out. "Marco!" There was no answering "Polo!" and as the doors shut, the customer in front of me asked, "Do you often play that here?"

Mr Fabulous

He works in the Paint department. He's one of those annoying optimists. Miss Piggy likes him.

Anyway, Mr Fabulous, the 80's called, and it wants its fashion back.

'nuff said.

Quickie

A quick lil' post, donchano.

Yesterday, at work, I get this call:

mumple: How many I direct your call?

caller: I dunno. Maybe you can help me. *pause* Do you carry those strap on things?

m: *jaw just a-hanging

caller: Like for on your shoes in the ice.

A Joyful Noise

So, I'm singing (if you want to call it that) in the choir Friday night.

I was asked, and like the true dolt I am, I agreed. I'll muddle through it, somehow.

But I mentioned it at work last night. After the laughter died down, I was quizzed on the church part. As if it is inconceivable that I attend church. And would be welcomed there.

During the quizzing, I mentioned, also, that I am a licensed lay eucharistic minister. More laughter.

There are now people willing to pay admission to my church for Christmas eve service. Apparently, they think there will be lightning bolts and gnashing of teeth, possibly a miracle or three.

Whatever.

Memes R Us

Flea's got a meme...and I mean to have one, too.

1. What is your occupation?
I am Flypaper for Freaks. I am the Weirdness Goddess. I am the Frodo the Bee Keeper, too.

2. What color are your socks right now?
They are both white. I have another pair at home that matches them exactly. Except, I mean, on opposite feet. (HAH! you thought I was gonna say that they match my panties...and that I wasn't wearing panties. Fooled ya!)

3. What are you listening to right now?
The Howler ask me 12 demanding questions about all and sundry flotsam from my life. Oh, she has the sniffles, too.

4. What was the last thing you ate?
A mint.

5. Can you drive a stick shift?
Yes. I learned on one, because that's all my parents had at the time. What fun! My sister & I would head to softball practice early, so I could practice in the school parking lot. She worked the pedals and had me shift from the passenger seat for months before I got my permit. Then, she switched seats with me, and I worked the clutch while she shifted. Finally got to put it all together--and then when I got my permit, my dad commented that he was impressed that I "got the hang of it" so quickly! Didn't admit to anything until after I got my license, though.

6. Last person you spoke to on the phone?
My neighbor, Michelle. She was wonky last night with Ambien, and she called to ask if she'd called me yesterday.

7. Do you like the person who sent this to you?
Yeppers, I do. She is a Wise Woman, and I consider myself blessed to have made her acquaintance (HAH! I spelled it right before I checked it!)

8. How old are you today?
OOOOO. I love this game! How old do you think I am?

9. What is your favorite sport to watch on TV?
Is hacky sack a sport? No? Then I'll take I'll door #2, Monty.

10. What is your favorite drink?
Well, coffee, I suppose. High-Octane please. Although, I do like beer. And water. But not all at the same time.

11. Have you ever dyed your hair?
Yes. I decided that I would not age gracefully, and while maintaining the color is a pain in my ass, I rather like being a red head, and thank God for Clariol Nice & Easy (no comments from the peanut gallery, thank you) every few weeks.

12. Favorite food?
Yes. Absolutely. Oh, a list, then? Salt & Vinegar chips. Brownies. Frosted Mini-Wheats. Bagels. M 'n M's. Home made chocolate chip cookies. Popcorn. Wow, but doesn't that sound like a list of Munchies?

13. What was the last movie you watched?
Disney's UP. And yes, I can smell you.

14. Favorite day of the year?
Any day I wake up still sucking air during which nothing explodes, nobody vomits on me, and there is hot coffee.

15. What was your favorite toy as a child?
We-ell. I don't recall, really. I loved to read, so I preferred books to toys, mostly. Although, if it counts, I still have the stuffed red donkey my grandmother bought me at Murphy Mart when I was in 1st or 2nd grade. I slept with him every night for about ever...and he went to college with me (but not on my honeymoon!) I know where he is this exact minute, and his name is Charley.

16. What is your favorite season?
Can this be a BOGO? I like spring, God, I love spring. It means no more inside the dayumed store. Sunny sunshine, warm rain...but I love autumn...the colors, the smells, the cooler days and snuggling under a fleece blanket.

17. Cherries or blueberries?
Why?

18. What occupation would you pick any (and had the talent) if you could live your life again?
I would be a Goddess, but not a Weirdness Goddess. Oh, alright. Seriously? I would have taken my writing seriously and I'd be published--and getting paid for it.

K, now it's yer turn!

A Mr Mumple Story

When you travel for your job, there are some strange things you can encounter. And My Sweetie tells me about 'em.

The other day, while out and about in the county, he & his trainee were replacing a windshield...the customer was a decent looking woman who, apparently, had very few wardrobe options.

She wore a short black robe. Emphasis on the "short" part. When done with the job, and awaiting payment (not that kind of payment, perv) she invited them inside the house.

Yeah. She showed them her pussy.







He was a Himalayan.

The cat had absolutely nothing to do with the short robe, but, of course, the fun is in telling it to your wife this way.

Bible Quiz

So, once upon a loooooooooooooooong time ago, My Sweetie was on his church's Bible Quiz team. I believe him when he says it was because there were pretty girls on the team, because he certainly remembers very little scripture from it.

Recently, the Howler moved up to the next level of AWANAS. No more foolin' around! She needed a Bible, and we need to work with her on those verses. So, the former Bible Quiz Guy decided he would also begin reading the Bible.

He starts, of course, at the beginning. A few chapters into it, he announces that "all those begats and whose dad is whose is pretty boring. And hard to follow." Well, yeah. Why do you think I'm not also reading it? He also discovered that there are no guys in Genesis named Bob, but decided that any names he couldn't pronouce would be simplified into Bob and Bill and Biff. But I remember when I created a book of the Bible for the Toad called Inertiates, and made up verses, he said I was "so very wrong. Funny, but wrong." But he doesn't remember that Vince is a prominent figure in Inertiates, either.

Last night, though, he proved for once-and-for-all that the Howler's parents are really not the kind of people who should be helping the Howler understand the Bible: he sez, "You know, in the Old Testament, if a guy thinks he's not getting enough kids from one wife, or two, he just takes a few handmaids too."

I responded with, "So, you've made it as far as Jacob, then?"

He seemed a little surprised that I knew that much, since, as I stated before, I don't read the Bible, unless I have to. And I've never mentioned Jacob to him, so that must be part of the Black Hole that is my less-than-Christian accumulation of knowledge.

Then he tells me, "Yeah, and that guy Jacob would stick it in just about anybody."

There you have it: Bible Stories from Heathen Headquarters.

My Favorite Christmas Think

Is that my Sweetie makes up words to traditional Christmas carols. And, if anyone knows who Harold is, please let him know.

An example:

"Jolly Old St Nicholas, lean your ear this way,
don't you tell a single soul what I'm going to say
Billy wants pair of skates
Judy wants a bell
Jimmy wants the kid next door
To go straight to Hell."

Yeah, that's the true Christmas Spirit.

Curiosity

Curiosity killed the cat. And it just may kill me.

We have infants to shop for this year, and whilst perusing the aisles of infant wear, I came across something that is driving me crazy for want of an explanation:

Infant socks (size 0) with SAFETY TREAD.

I have to ask: What in the world does AN INFANT need safety tread on the bottoms of his (or her) dainty little piggies? Where is he going, and how fast is he expected to get there on his own two feet?

All's Fair

I decided that in order to do the Alice Cooper Free Titty Show post justice, I couldn't mix it with one about the Fair going public. That means that this post is about the walk through the FAIR.

Did I mention how much I HATE the FAIR?

I hate the Fair. It could be that my mother usually spazzed out over something stupid & small (usually a whiney Mumplette, truth be told); it might be that I know that in my home state, inspections of rides and attractions are fast and loose; it may very well be that I spend too much time around mooing and bleeting herd animals as it is, and can't abide the notion that I should pay admission to be surrounded by them. Take your pick of reasons. Mix and Match 'em, they're all true.

On the flip side of all that hate and frustration is the fact that I love the food. Funnel cakes. Sausage sandwiches. Lemonade. Snocones. French fries. I'll pay a lot of money for any and all of those delicacies. And that is why I do venture into a few Fairs and hometown pat-ourselves-on-our-backs fests. At least two a year.

As previously mentioned, My Sweetie and I had a hot date two weeks ago--to go to a concert at the FAIR. The Dreaded and Much Hated FAIR.

We paid to park at the local school. We paid a grumpy and dazed 14 year old girl to enter the FAIR. (As a side note: Children in Remedial Math should not be made to make change from an apron while standing in a blocked street. Ahhh, but then, Omens of Things to Come and all that applies, too.)

I have never (and I do mean NEVER) in my life seen such a collection of obscenely obese women in an enclosed area. It was like Wayne Zelinsky's Enlarge-O Ray went beserk in the Relief Office waiting room. Afterwards, instead of paying them a settlement, they handed out uniforms.

There were thousands of blubbery women. And each and every one of them were wearing a tye-dyed Tee and green (or pink, the color must've been optional) cotton elastic waisted shorts. And they were ALL eating. Sausage sandwiches. Ice Cream. Small Korean Family on a Stick. Pizza. Funnel Cakes. SnoCones. Corn Dogs. French Fried Midgets. Lemonade. Even the ones in line for a new and exciting tasty treat were already sucking down some serious calories while-U-wait.

The ambulatory ones were staggering about, weaving drunkenly between unsuspecting normal sized Fair Goers, muttering things like, "ooooo Funnel Caaaaaaake." Those who weren't muttering were the ones who were stopping mid-stride to stuff half a pizza into a pie hole. God help you if you heard, but did not comprehend the muttering. A woman, roughly the size of ORCA the killer whale would zip--yes, I said ZIP. They're quite speedy when hunting their prey--in front of you without warning.

There aughtta be a law regarding gross tonnage and change of course beepers. Seriously.

Finally, I have to tell you that the largest of these behemoths usually had satellites. Like the larger, gaseous planets you've learned about in elementary school, there were smaller, grubby looking children in orbit. Sadly and forlornly hoping for a SnoCone drip or a mozzerella drop, I'm sure.

By the time we exited the Godforsaken FAIR, I was wondering aloud where anyone found enough flour (and the iron stomach to commit the act) to impregnate these wonders-of-nature. Unless of course, he reused the flour...which is an even worse thought.

Got the T-Shirt

I should have known I was in trouble when he sat down at the computer and pulled up the website he wanted without swearing, muttering, or asking for help. I should have been worried when he didn't start putting of a "I want to kill this thing" vibe. I should have been afraid when I saw that he had his wallet with him.

He never gets on the computer if he can help it. He couldn't check email to save his life. He can rarely find the site he's wanting, and he habitually says things like, "It hates me, you know." He'd throw the computer through a 3rd story window, if we had a third story and I'd let him.

Just over a month ago, he did the impossible--and the frightening. He got online. And he bought something.

His only request for my input was to ask, as he was nearing completion of his mission, "Hey, honey, you want to go see Alice Cooper at the fair, dontcha?" As my eyes glaze over at the ridiculousness of this question, he hits the send button and announces, "Good! I've got us tickets."

To say that our music tastes do not exactly mesh is an understatement. He habitually ridicules my choices, and I habitually groan and tolerate his. (In my defense, he cranks up the stereo more often than I do.) Some of his choices have grown on me, and I have come to actually enjoy listening to it.

But, Alice Cooper? Seriously? No, this concert is not high on my list of places I want to go. Add that to a FAIR of any kind, and in all honesty, I'm thinking "I'm in Hell" will be the catch phrase for the evening.

Until I realize that my enjoyment of watching the people would compliment his enjoyment of the show. AND, most importantly, neither of our children, nor any other family members would be going with us.

I wouldn't have to be on my bestest best behavior. I would just have to keep my frustration and irrational anger at the FAIR and everything it embodies to a minimum.

Last night, we were off to the fair. He was excited. I was amused.

While there, we ran into an Episcopal priest we know--and he was dragging his wife to the concert as well.

I managed, in the walk into the fair, and then into the concert, to hold in my giggles. And my sarcastic and rude comments. I managed to not go bug eyed at the over-50 people with beer bellies (mostly women) and the oldsters with gray hair down to their butts (men.) I managed to not begin shrieking with laughter when the woman in the green halter went by with no bra and each and every one of her stretch marks showing.

Seriously, I think the tickets should have read "BRAS OPTIONAL." And most of the braless were NOT the 15-25 year old hotties, either. They were, of course, the people who had the most to flap--I don't care who you are, looking at flabby 50-something tits hanging under a two sizes too small tee isn't attractive (although, in her defense, the green halter woman did have a decent set--not too big as to be flabby and saggy, but still!)

The show, overall, wasn't bad. It was actually fun. Somehow, my impressions of the show lead me to believe that Alice Cooper has quite a sense of humor. And he doesn't mind making fun of himself. And that he's rather a good showman. He knew what the audience wanted, and he gave it to them--right down to the beheading. And the hanging. And the song about Ethel.

In the end, the shiny, mirrored top hat and tails that he ended the show in was really, in my opinion, worth watching all the loose and free titties for.

Does this make me a fan? I don't think so. It does mean I can appreciate a good show. I can appreciate the work and planning that went into choreographing a concert that included several ways to die.

I can't believe the people who had their small children--I mean at least one had a baby in a stroller with them, and I saw at least a dozen children under the age of 9 in the crowd as well. The show was simply NOT appropriate for children. Sure, there was no nudity, but a few of "Nurse Rosetta's" costumes were black bustier and corset things, including torn fishnet nylons. And the noise level was enough to damage MY hearing forever, I can only imagine what it would do to a 9 month old baby's. And some of the death imagery was just too much for a child. I'm 42, and I can appreciate the "pretendness" of it, and am not bothered by a theatrical performance, but I couldn't imagine taking the Howler to a show like this and not causing some sort of short in her hardwiring--the sexual content of some of the songs, the sexual and violent imagery, which, I'm sure, by standards of 2009 TV and movie audiences aren't that shocking, would just be unfair to expose my child.

In the end, I did enjoy the show. Much to my own chargrin. My biggest regret? I forgot my camera.

And, yes, I did get the $30 t-shirt.

Day Late & Dollar Short

I just realized that last Friday--July 3--was my three-year blogiversary.

So, it's true. Time flies when you don't know what you're doing.

Timeless Questions

When you say, "Mean people suck," are you really saying, "Nice people swallow"?

Zoned

Yeah, it's a continuation of the other post. And it is creeping me out. Seriously.

I've been thinking about it, and I think it's more the fact that people were deliberately coming to talk to me--about good things, and offering to give me their real names and phone numbers. That's NEVER happened before, not in 41 years. I've never BEEN the person others seek out(seek to avoid, yes. seek out? never.) I always figured nobody would ever volunteer to line up to see me unless I was dead, and they were in line to be sure that I really was.

And now, it seems that I am one of those people that others actively seek out.

It's a crazy little head-rush, it is.

More Photos! More Photos!

Now, seriously, what do these pictures make you think of? They're not staged, I found these poor people like this.

Happy New Year!

From the Mumples to you: We hope you have a safe & happy 2009!

What a Jerk

Santa, that is.

Have you watched TV's Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer lately?

As a child, it seems to be a sweet story about a guy who started out all wrong, and ended up saving his friends, and Christmas for the children of the world. What it looks like now, though, is about a bunch of obnoxious conformists bullying the guy they don't like into packing up and leaving town. It's twisted to think that after how Santa and even his own father treated him, Rudolph agrees to save their pathetic asses from diaster.

We watched it last night--Santa is a first-class, no-holds-barred jerk. He wants everything to be done his way, and he wants all the reindeer to be exactly the same. That's a sociopathic dictator. He states, early on, that because Rudolph is DIFFERENT, he will NEVER pull Santa's sleigh--no matter how hard Rudolph works, he won't fit in. Santa has spoken.

Then, during the reindeer games, when his fake nose falls off, the other bucks make fun of him, but SO DO THE ADULTS. And the adult *coach* is the one who tells everyone, "Right. And remember, gang, we don't let Rudolph play in ANY of our reindeer games."

The pretty little doe who can see Rudolph for who he truly is, still wants to walk home with him, but when her father tracks them down, she's got no chance.

What jerks they all are.

In her defense, Rudolph's mother tries to protect him--at first. But, after the male "put his hoof down," she's silent for the rest of the story. How sad is that? Even at the end, when ol' Dad shows up to be proud of his kid, in spite of his deformity, she doesn't even roll her eyes.

I'd just really like to know, too, in a place that is totally intolerant of difference (hence Rudolph's banishment) how is it that the tall, geeky elf is accepted and allowed to sing and work with the other elves? How does Santa and his gang miss this guy?

So basically, the Christmas message they're sending to us is that unless you're the Token, don't be different. But if you are different, forgive us our jerkness and bail us out when we need you.

No wonder I have so much trouble playing nicely with others--I won't be the Token, and I won't bail you out when you're a jerk who created your own problems.