A Small Victory

don't delay

Photoshop this:

Deadline extended until Friday afternoon. Better get cracking, I've got some real winners already.

Posted by at 10:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

fresh stuff, evil stuff, contest stuff

It's stuffy in here.

Fresh boobies, while you wait. Fresh sporkiness, too.

On the subject of boobies, go name Rannie's nipple ring. I'm thinking Hoopty is a good name.

Things that are evil today:

McDonald's Drive-thru
Blockbuster's definition of guaranteed
Mother Nature
SUV stretch limos
These two bastards. (from Yahoo news)

I think I'll have a contest. Photoshop the above pop-up image to your liking. Send it to me. I'll post the best and award an appropriate prize. You have until 9am tomorrow.

Posted by at 04:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

and then i curled my toes so hard i got a cramp.......

Say what you will about the boobieblog, but there is nothing that makes a bad day better than seeing "boobies for you" in your mailbox and it's not spam.

I did get an email asking me to join the group OrgasmDescriptionsFemale. Which I politely declined. Now give me an OrgasmDescriptionsMale, and I am so there.

Posted by at 10:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

ATS True Stories

Behind the Resurrection - An Amish Tech Support True Story

That, my dear friends, is why I worship Laurence.

Posted by at 08:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

boss monster

You know how there's always that thing - a song, a movie, a smell - that you associate with a certain person or time in your life? And you know how sometimes that association is nothing but bad memories and death wishes? And you know how when you see/hear that thing that you associate with that person or time you want to throw up?

Well, if I see or hear Bruce Springsteen one more time in the next 24 hours I will commit an act of violence. Brutal, unforgiving violence.

That is all.

Posted by at 07:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

now showing: 34, 35 and 36 at the boobieblog

3am: don't panic

It was one of those nights. One of the nights that turn into day without any real sleep in between those moments.

We had a bit of a scare with DJ. Was so close to taking him to the hospital that I had the car running. And then I stopped. Do not panic. Do not panic. Rinse. Repeat.

It started after dinner when DJ said his heart was racing. I put my hand on his chest and sure enough his heart was going at a ferocious clip. I took it in stride. He spend most of the 100-plus-degree day outside. He played a little baseball, went swimming, ran around like a lunatic. The humidity was intense. There was an air quality warning. DJ is prone to respitory distress. Case solved.

I pulled out the nebulizer and realized we were out of Albuterol. We hadn't had to use it since the winter, so it never occurred to me to get more. I found a prescription bottle of Proventil that hadn't expired and gave him a dose of that.

That was at about 7:00. Cut to 9:00. He's pacing around the house. He's crying. He swears that he is dying. He's taking those big, sucking breaths that I take when I have a panic attack. I know the Proventil makes him a little nuts, but this is different. His face is ghost white, his hands are shaking and his heart is beating out of his chest. I know he is causing most of this distress himself by worrying about the original bout he had after dinner.

I try to get him to calm down. I rub his back, I get him a drink, we watch the Yankee game. When DJ cannot sit still long enough to watch a full inning, I know something is wrong.

He starts crying. He is sure he's going to die. We walk outside, inside, around the house, room to room. He cannot sit still. He will not lay down. I have never seen a child in such an utter state of panic. Of course, this makes me panic.

By 11pm, he is still frantic. Justin and Natalie are both sleeping. DJ and I are camping out in the living room, watching the late innings of the game. He lays next to me and I hear him deep breathing. I want nothing more than to sleep at this point. I want him to sleep.

Midnight and he is still crying. His heart is still racing. That's it, we are going to the hospital. I call my father, because I know my father will talk me out of such nonense. Bring him here, my father says. We walk across the street to my parents' house. Dad talks me out of the hospital trip.

I didnt' call my pediatrician for one simple reason: I knew exactly what he would say. He would say relax, it's just from the heat and subsequent panic when he couldn't breathe, give him some Proventil and Tylenol and he will be fine. And don't panic. Don't panic.

I would have taken DJ to the hospital for one simple reason: It would have made him feel better. He would have seen it me doing something proactive, the doctors would have soothed him (after 6 hours waiting in the emergency room, I'm sure) and it just would have dissipated his panic. Hospital visit as placebo.

But no, I took him back home. Now it's almost 12:30 a.m. My body wants to drop into a coma for the rest of the night. I find some childrens' NyQuil and give DJ a tiny bit of it. Believe me, I was eyeing that bottle of tequila on my counter as if it were a magic elixer. For both of us.

I push the two couches together, because DJ insists he can't not be more than one foot away from me or surely he will die, and I flip channels while he sucks in his breath and cried and while his heart does some wild dance inside his little body. I keep thinking that I should have gone to the hospital. I'm afraid I'll fall asleep and wake up to dead child laying next to me. Don't panic. Too late.

3am and finally DJ's eyes are heavy. We tire of the endless parade of cartoons and infommercials and the 10th repeat of Sportscenter. He finally puts his head down. He closes his eyes. His face is still pale, stained with tear trails. He looks so small. But, finally, he looks comfortable. His breathing sounds better.

He shifts, turns and lets out the hugest fart I ever heard. He giggles in his half-sleeping state. Yea, he's ok. He's fine.

Around 4am, I fall asleep. At 5am, I am up for the day. I'll probably fall asleep at my desk at some point today. After work, it's a trip to the doctor. Lesson learned: always keep fresh Albuterol in the house. And Don't Panic.

It's going to be a long one.

update: The doctor said DJ most likely became dehydrated yesterday when he insisted on staying outside in the 100 degree heat playing baseball for a few hours. The subsequent racing heart that comes with dehydration set him off into a panic (gee I wonder where he gets that trait from) and the result was a night long panic attack. Still, we are headed to the cardiologist just to rule anything out, and we've been supplied with enough Abuterol to get through any more dehydration anxiety. Drink, DJ, drink!

Posted by at 05:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

numbers

32, 33 and 34 now playing at the boobieblog

The boobieblog has over 4,000 hits so far today. There is so much to be said about that statistic. So much.

Note to anyone who sponsored me in the blogathon. The Daniel Pearl Foundation is having some problems with the donation page of their website. They ask that if you cannot get the payment to submit on the site to please mail it to:

The Daniel Pearl Foundation
c/o Gibson Dunn & Crutcher
2029 Century Park East, Suite 4000
Los Angeles, California 90067

Thanks.

Posted by at 06:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

greatest cartoon characters of all time, my ass

TV Guide named 50 of them. Bugs Bunny led the pack. Sorry, but Bugs was a one-dimensional, predicatble rabbit who had not a redeeming bone in his entire scrawny body. Sure, I loved him and I can quote him like crazy, but totally not number one.

While they did include some of my favorites like the new king of kiddie toons, SpongeBob, Homer, Beavis and Butthead and Cartman, they included some questionable choices and left off the cream of the crop. Ok, so hardly anyone who pays any attention to these polls watches or knows what I consider the cream of the cartoon pop, but I don't really care about them. I think if more people should pay attention to me and what I like because I obviously have refined taste in everything.

So their list includes such hilarious stalwarts as Rocky and Bullwinkle, Fred and Barney, Pikachu, Mr. Magoo, and Woody Woodpecker. (Note the sarcasm dripping from the words hilarious stalwarts before you start throwing darts at me).

To their credit, they did include Ren and Stimpy and Space Ghost, but that does not redeem them.

The Greatest Cartoon Characters Ever That Are Not On The TV Guide List of Greatest Cartoon Characters Ever:

Angry Beavers Brak Invader Zim and Gir Brendon Small from Home Movies Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law Aquateen Hunger Force Pinky and the Brain Otto the bus driver The Family Dog Stewie Griffin Rocko

Yea, there's more. But you'll have to go excuse me while I rip someone's arms off and beat her over the head with them until she is screaming for death to take her and I happily oblige by kicking her until she ceases to breathe.

Empire Bail Bonds. They take checks, thanks.

Posted by at 03:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (29)

play along with the bad day blog

You know it's going to be one of those days when:

One of your first actions of the day is to tell someone that you are going to poke their eye out with a fucking ballpoint pen.

You find yourself repeatedly banging your head on the desk.

Your entire morning is spent dealing with attorneys.

You decide it would be better to poke your own eyes out with the pen.

The idea of a liquid lunch is sounding very good.

You forget to bring your cds in the car and the only radio station that's playing music is having a Creed fest.

You get to work and realize you have no idea how you got there.

Three words: bad hair day.

Add on....

Posted by at 10:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (20)

meltdown

I woke up this morning with blogathy (blogathy: the lack of desire to post anything on your weblog).

However, I still felt the desire to make a post saying how I don't feel like posting.

Maybe I will leave the blogging up to you today. Do you mind?

I need several things.

1. A list of ways to keep cool when even the blast of the air conditioner doesn't seem like enough.

2. A decent name for the boobieblog.

3. Reasons why this band still exists.

4. Confirmation that this is really a joke. They are not making 3 Pitch Black sequel, right?

5. Something to wear to my wedding. Besides a g-string and high heels, thank you.

6. More horroscopes like this: This month finds you seriously contemplating walking away from everything you've ever known, buying a plane ticket and moving to Finland. Sure, you don't know anyone there and can't speak a word of finlandese, but you're a champ at guzzling lousy vodka and watching reindeer fuck. Sadly, just minutes before your flight takes off, you remember how much you hate blonde foreigners - in addition to blondes who listen to Foreigner - and decide to stay at home.

7. My own personal Jesus to help me with Excel.

8. This doll.

9. Boobies. Always need more boobies. (If you sent me pictures and they aren't up yet, they will be up by tonight. Pardon my unmotivated ass. It's the weather).

10. Reasons why I keep doing this.

Ok, wake me when it falls below 80 degrees. Thank you.

Posted by at 06:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

30 and 31 up at the boobieblog

I'll never leave your pizza burning

Got another wedding gift in the mail today, a pizza stone and rack that I badly wanted.

I think we are going to save the gifts we are getting through our registry and wrap them and put them on the gift table at the wedding. Is that silly? I feel weird using them before we are even married, and having the gifts there will give the gift givers a presence at the wedding. Right?

Thank you to Stacy, Dan, Keir and Molly for the generous and thoughtful gift. It means a lot. We'll think of you ever time I burn a pizza.

And I swear, I had nothing to do with this.

I'll explain the title reference later. Unless someone has an idea what it means

Posted by at 06:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (19)

spork and booblog both updated today

anger directment: a case study

I've been doing a little research on anger management. All this counting to ten and deep breaths seems good on the surface, but I don't buy it. If you repress whatever anger you are feeling at the moment, it will only come out a different - most likely inappropriate - time.

I think the better device to use is something I call Anger Directment. It's about making sure that the rage and frustration you are feeling is directed toward the part(ies) that have caused the feelings in the first place.

Sometimes, you curse and scream at the person driving next to you because you are in a mood. And sometimes, it's just because that person is an asshole. Former bad. Latter good.

Why should I repress my anger? Why should I push it deep down where it will only simmer and fester and then boil over long after the event that put the anger there in the first place has passed?

Let's invent a scenario.

You are at work. A co-worker stops by your office to chit-chat. You really don't like this person and have no desire to talk with them. Your dislike for them is valid; this person is a self-absorbed creep who looks down your shirt when you talk and is crude, demeaning, sexist and racist.

You are trapped at your desk as he stands in the doorway. In the space of two minutes he has managed to offend you three times and question your intergrity, work ethic and lineage.

Now, someone give me a good reason why I should count to ten and take a deep breath in this scenario. Why should I let this person run rampant over my feelings and let it go as if he did nothing wrong? And please, do not tell me to say something like "your words are making me feel angry" because a person like that would only scoff and laugh. And then he would walk away and I would spend the whole day stewing about what I could have said and should have said. By the time I leave work, I will be in a raging frenzy and I will take it out on the poor, unsuspecting souls who are on the road with me, which will only fuel my anger and by the time I get home I am ready to kick the neighbor's dog just to hear it yelp.

The scenario plays out much better if I call the guy a few choice names, tell him exactly what I think of him, and then throw a cup of steaming hot coffee at his crotch. My anger is relieved, my rage has dissipated and I made my point without being wishy-washy about it. And the masses that drive home the same way I do are spared my wrath. Works out for everyone!

Instead of trying to manage your anger, which is only therapist talk for supressing your feelings, you direct it at the right people. I mean, come on, a person who throws a beer bottle out the car window or says disparaging things about your family or assumes you want to crawl under his desk and service him just because you are female and he is male, well that person needs to be told in no uncertain terms how you feel about his behavior. That is called positive directive anger. Whether you kick him in the balls, or chase him down the hall with a flamethrower or hurl a string of curses at him that he has never heard before, it's all good. You are the better for it. When you are done you can sit back, relax, have a cigarette and praise yourself for releasing your rage at the right person.

If you hold it in and mutter some psychobabble to him about how your feelings are hurt and then you do your good breathing exercises, you will only find yourself kicking dogs later, pretending that the poor dog is your co-worker. That is negative directive anger. Bad.

Next time the person in front of you on the express line has 10 items over the expressly stated 6 items only, open up her laundry detergent when she is not looking. Then offer to help her bag her groceries, making sure that the laundry detergent is packed in the same bag as her grapes. You will feel better for it, trust me. As a matter of fact, you will chuckle to yourself all the way home and your good mood will last you well into the night.

Just follow the basic rule: If a person angers you to the point that you feel the familiar stirrings of animalistic rage building up inside you, count to ten. If, by the time you get to ten there is steam coming out of your ears, punch that person in the face. Anger released, situation settled.

Who needs $150 an hour therapy when you have me? Thank me later. Tell your dog to thank me, too.

Posted by at 05:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (17)

aftermath

Perhaps I owe an apology to some of my sponsors. I'm sure my blogathon entries did not turn out to be what you expected. It wasn't the sort of stuff I usually post about. If you found that the entries over the course of the 24 hours were not in taste with either the cause or what your expectations were, please let me know and I will gladly give the money that you pledged to the Daniel Pearl Foundation.

In my own defense, I felt like I needed to do something that would keep people coming in (I did pick up new sponsors during the night) and keep me awake. It was a real effort for me to stay up 29 hours (yes, 29...I got up way too early on Saturday) and the constant emails and comments on both the main blog and the sub-blog kept me going.

I'm sorry if the content offended anyone who sponsored me.

I didn't do this for the hits. I didn't do this for attention. In fact, it (the boobieblog) was completely unplanned.

For those that did enjoy it, I'm glad you did. It will be staying up for a while. For those that hated it, unless you had a vested interest in what I did here last night(i.e., sponsored me), I owe you no apology.

Meanwhile, more people who need to be thanked: Laura, Jenna, Chuck, Shel, Rannie, Bill, Dave, Ann, Aaron, Reid, James, Fredo, Phineas, Jessica, Jason,Jason, Geoff, Todd, Robyn, Hoopty, Choire, KD, Brandy, Jill, Mike, Keith, Chris, Christine, Chris, Kymberlie, Christine, Glace, Chris, ratty, wKen....I'm sure there are more. I'm still sort of brain dead. But you all did your part to help me raise some money. And some of you were doing your own blogathonning at the same time.

Posted by at 11:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (25)

i dreamed of boobies

I'm still a bit groggy and disoriented and if there is one thing I learned from all this it is that I am too old for this shit.

Remind of that when the 2003 blogathon rolls around, ok?

In my haste to get to sleep, I never did announce the winner of the cleavage contest, which is ok because I never did pick a winner.

Head over to the boobieblog and leave a comment (give me two minutes to make the official post) as to what your favorite entry was and why. You have to tell me why.

There will be a winner in male and female categories as well as in any categories you can make up. Prizes will be ummm...magic sporks or something. Or lots of attention. I'll come up with something.

I'm going back to sleep.

Posted by at 09:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Thank you, everyone. You have all made this incredibly enjoyable. I'll be back on Monday.

Posted by at 08:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (30)

numbers

Blogathan by the numbers:

2 packs of cigarettes smoked
drank 2 quarts of Snapple Peach Iced Tea
drank 1 Gallon of Poland Springs water
drank 4 pots of coffee
drank two bottles of Skyy Blue
consumed: two granola bars
one power bar
one bowl of Special K with berries
2 Taco Bell chalupas
2 slices of pepperoni deep dish pizza
12 pieces of gum.
Peed a grand total of 46 times
Took 3 showers
Brushed teeth 12 times
changed clothes 4 times
Got a phone call from Natalie 6 times
Got a phone call from DJ 3 times
went through 3 disposable heating pads for my back
posted 80 entries (with the help of melly)
posted 28 cleavage pictures
took zero naps

30 minutes. Man is this dragging on now. My bed is calling me.

Posted by at 08:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)

thank you, part 4

My back hurts. My ass hurts. My wrist and hand hurt and so do my eys. I'm listening to Public Enemy. Anything to keep me from falling face down on the keyboard. This last hour is going to be the hardest, I know it.

The big thank you:

To all of my sponsors, thank you. I hope I have lived up to whatever you expected of me. I hope at the very least you were entertained.

There were 36 sponsors who pledged a combined total of $743.00. That's a lot of money. I'm very proud to part of a group who will presenting the Daniel Pearl Foundation with that much money.

I also apologize to the Daniel Pearl Foundation for all the times I wrote Daniel Pear instead. It's been a long day/night/day.

Again, thanks to all my sponsors. It means a lot.

Thanks to my immoral supporters who stood by me during the planning and fretting about the blogathon, hung out on AIM with me or called me on the phone during the wee hours of the night.

Thank you to Justin, who put up with my talking about nothing but the blogathon for at least a week, who gave up a free Saturday with me so I could do this, and who never once complained that we were going to have no time together this weekend. He rubbed my feet and massaged my back and waited on me while I sat in this chair all day and night. He made me coffee and made runs to the store and refilled my water bottle. Thank you babe, I love you and now we can concentrate on the wedding. After I sleep all day today, that is.

I'm having a hard time making this last hour. I feel like I'm in a trance.

8:11. Getting there.

Posted by at 08:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

Are we sleeping?

Posted by at 08:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

thank you, part 3

I want to give a shout out to Fredo (a sponsor), whose ass-baring meme during last year's blogathon was the inspiration for the cleavage contest.

Fredo, you have started something grand. Stand up and be proud for leaving your mark on the world!

Did I just use the phrase shout out?

I'm sorry.

Posted by at 07:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

thank you, part 2

It's morning again. I've been sitting here a whole day. There's a fog drifting across the street and looking at it is making me feel sleepy.

One and a half hours left.

3am was the hardest. I wanted to sleep so badly. Once I got to 4am I was ok. Now, I am ready to sleep for the next week.

Thank you to everyone - and there were TONS of you - who hung out with me through AIM. You really made the time go faster and did a great job keeping me company.

Thanks to everyone who sent me links and stories and useful items.

Thanks especially to billybunny for the comic strip and Stacy for getting the boobieblog ready to go three seconds after I asked her if she could do that for me.

Thanks to all the other participants, especially Mike, who I sponsored, and Laurence, just because.

It's getting close now. 1 1/2 hours left. The home stretch. In some odd way, I don't want it to end.

But man, am I looking forward to sleeping all day.

Posted by at 07:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

it's time for some leg

Posted by at 07:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

thank you, part 1

I in now way intended for this to become the boobieblog. I was going to just to my regular posting, nothing fancy. Somehow it caught on. And people liked it.

I felt weird at first blogging for the Daniel Pearl Foundation and having it turn into a blog full of boobs, but it brought people here, I picked up extra sponsors and maybe some of the readers clicked on the link up there to find out more about the organization.

I apologize to anyone who sent me boob pictures but they did not get posted. I had some trouble with Yahoo mail at one point and lost some stuff. Please resend them, as the boobieblog will be up there for a long time. Also, if you didn't get a chance to send and want to do so, it's never too late.

I want to thank everyone on the blogathon team for putting this together. It was took a tremendous amount of hard work and dedication to pull this off, and they did so beautifully.

Ok, that's the first round of my thank yous.

Huh?

Oh yea, I'm awake.

Wide awake.

I'm just......resting my eyes.

Posted by at 06:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

melly

It's two hours until I can sleep. I won't do my official thank yous until the end, but I have to take a separate post to say thank you to Melly.

Mel, I could not have done this without you. You kept me going, kept me laughing, and gave me plenty of breaks as you masqueraded as Marge.

I know the cause was close to your heart, and that's what made it a bit easier for the both of us to keep going until the sun came up.

Thank you from the bottom of my very tired heart. It meant a lot to me to do this with you.

Love you, bitch.

Posted by at 06:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

6:30am

Mariane Pearl said she met her husband at a party in Paris
and corresponded with him for several months before seeing him again.
At that meeting, he showed up at her home in Paris
with luggage and a shopping bag full of food.

"He went to the kitchen straight and started cooking an omelet,
and really made the biggest mess that I've ever seen, and opened his
suitcase in the middle of the living room," she said. "And I looked
at him and said, 'I like this guy.' That is how our relationship started."

( marge here )

Posted by at 06:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

where my hoecakes at?

frankie

Posted by at 06:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

6:12am

Okay let's play Marge Do Something. Take a picture of something. Tell something.

I don't know, something! Tell me what something I should do.

I'm dying here.

posted by: thoughtless marge

Posted by at 06:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

hot cross boobs!

shelli

i think i just swallowed a centipede.

Posted by at 06:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

6am: getting punchy

Posted by at 05:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

5:50am buddy

Marge, come to bed.

( unfortunately posted by marge herself )

Posted by at 05:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

5:43: jar of boobs

This guy is a little shy, but I let him put his picture up anyhow. Trust me, there are boobs underneath that outfit.

Isn't this the time of night when the zombies usually come out?

brains

braaaaaaains
BRAAAAINNnnnnnnnsssss

BRAINNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSSSSss

BBBBBRAAAAAAAAAAIINNNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSS