WILLOW'S WORDS

It's A Shitty World After All.

2007-06-28T20:47:00.001-03:00

Thank you for stopping by.

Unfortunately this blog is no longer in service, but for your amusement may I redirect you to that Big Pile of Poop known as Badger Bob.

Your hostess, Willow Strand..

2007-05-01T10:15:00.000-03:00

210 Posts Later

2006-08-08T08:18:00.000-03:00

Aug 8, 2006 - Bogged Down & Blogged Out.

At The Start Of My Blogging Journey

2006-08-07T09:19:00.000-03:00

Nov.13, 2004 - Flourishing in Fertile Soil.

A Fishy Story

2006-08-02T17:47:00.000-03:00

This story is so crazy that I had to post it from the Toronto Star as it was written. Pedro Wally "Fish" Diablo who considers himself the greatest angler that ever lived and spins wild fish stories - eat your heart out!

Aug. 2, 2006. 05:24 AM
ANNA PIEKARSKI
STAFF REPORTER

Bears like eating fish, but they don't usually catch them with a line and pole while riding in a boat.

Marty Descoteaux sees the beasts often near the city of Elliot Lake, about 150 kilometres west of Sudbury. So he wasn't surprised last month to spot one swimming near his boat on Esten Lake, just outside the city.

Descoteaux was busy at the time reeling in a 5.4-kilogram lake trout. He turned away for a moment and that's when two paws grabbed the side of his boat.

The fisherman grabbed a paddle and hit the animal over the head, but that didn't deter it.

"It went ballistic, he wanted in," said Descoteaux. "I never thought a bear could climb so fast into a boat. I had no choice, I had to bail out."

He swam for shore, hoping the bear wouldn't follow.

When Descoteaux reached rocks he looked back and was shocked to see his 5-metre aluminum boat speed past. While the bear was exploring the boat, it had hit the throttle.

"The bear was fishing with my boat," with the baited line dragging behind it, Descoteaux said.

"This is what you call a fishing story. I was sitting on the shoreline watching a bear trolling in my boat."

The bear panicked. With no one at the wheel, the boat turned sharply and hit a rock. The bear tumbled forward, damaging the front seat, and into the water. It then scrambled ashore and into the bush.

The pilotless craft ran in circles for a half-hour until it ran out of gas. Descoteaux, 35, swam out 2 1/2 kilometres to recover the boat and had to use its electric trolling motor to slowly glide back to shore.

Descoteaux, who owns Elliot Lake Outfitters, regularly takes fisherman out on area lakes. He frequently ventures out solo, early in the morning, to see if the fish are biting.

He reported the incident to Ontario's Ministry of Natural Resources. A ministry official told him the bear, with limited vision while swimming, probably thought the boat was a rock.

The fishing trip wasn't a complete loss. When Descoteaux retrieved his damaged craft, the lake trout was still lying inside it.

"He never touched it. I guess he was too excited."

Writing Challenge

2006-07-31T23:42:00.000-03:00

There is a writing assignment challenge that Bornfool has posted on his blog. Da Gal wrote the first chapter of a story and challenged Bornfool and others to jump in and continue with the story by writing their own chapters. To date:

Chapter One by Da Gal

Just the other day, while I was walking down the street during my lunchbreak, something truly amazing caught my attention. I stopped, took a deep breath, looked at my watch, and realized I still had forty minutes left before I had to return to work.

I retraced my steps to the intersection I had just crossed and waited for the light to change so I could head South. While I was waiting for the light to change, I noticed that a small crowd was gathering around the very thing that caught my attention. I began tapping my foot and checked the time on my watch again as I eagerly waited for the light to change.

"Click." I hear the light change, look up, and see that the pedestrian "walk" image has been illuminated, granting me clearance to cross the street. I step down from the curb and begin walking across the street. My fast paced walk is interrupted by a loud screeching hiss from tires gripping the street. I glance up to see a car full of teenagers come to an abrupt stop, hurling the five passengers forward for a brief moment until they are caught by the dashboard or the barrier between the front and back seat.

My heart flutters momentarily and then I set my gaze on the small crowd surrounding what originally caught my interest. Just as I apprach, my cell phone rings. I look down at the screen and see that it is a good friend. I think to myself, "I'd love to talk to her, but I am dying to know what is going on over here. I'll just let my voice mail pick it up."

Chapter 2 by Bornfool

A small crowd of about a dozen people had gathered around the man. I maneuvered into a position where I could see. The street magician dazzled the spectators with obviously well-practiced sleight of hand. I watched him closely trying to stay focused on his hands as he did a card trick. This guy was good. I never saw anything even remotely suspicious as the magician somehow produced the woman volunteer's chosen card out of her own back pocket. The crowd "oohed" and "awwwed" and broke into a smattering of spontaneous applause.

The magician selected another volunteer to amaze his now growing audience with another illusion. Instead of attempting to catch the magician in his "trick," this time I just watched his style. He appeared to be in his mid twenties, dressed in black jeans and a worn but serviceable Led Zeppelin T-shirt which fit snugly enough that I could see his well-defined pectoral and abdominal muscles. He wore a silver braided chain with whatever bauble hung from it tucked into the front of his t-shirt. His hair was close cropped and jet black. From his left ear hung a small silver hoop about the size of a dime with a delicate silver feather about a half inch long hanging from it. His demeanor captivated the audience. He had an air of confidence surrounding him. His disarming smile exuded trust and humor.

He finished the latest trick with another round of applause. He looked around the crowd, now at least twice as big as when I first joined them. He looked over his audience with penetrating dark brown eyes. His gaze landed on me. "Would you care to help me ?" He asked.

Emabarrassed, but feeling that somehow I just couldn't say no, I stepped forward as the people in front of me parted. When I stood in front of him, his eyes locked on to mine. I swear I could feel some kind of energy passing from him to me in that gaze. He produced a quarter from somewhere and held it up between his thumb and forefinger for everyone to see. "Just an ordinary quarter," he announced for all to hear. He held out the quarter to me and said, "Examine it. Make sure that there's nothing wrong with it."

I took it from him and held it up. It appeared to be a real quarter. The date on it was 1987. It had the correct heft of a real quarter. He asked, "Just a normal quarter, right?"

I nodded my head and gave him back the coin. He told me, "Make a fist with your left hand and hold it out in front of you."

I made a tight fist and held it out in front of me with my thumb side up. "Now turn it so that the back of your hand is on top."

I did as he instructed. He held up the coin over his head and said, "The quarter is real, but just what is reality?"

He encircled me left wrist with his left hand. His touch was electric. I looked at his hand and wouldn't have been surprised if it was glowing. It wasn't. With his right hand he placed the quarter on the back of my extended hand. He put the middle finger of his right hand on top of the quarter and started rubbing it in slow circular motions. The coin grew hot on the back of my hand. Then he placed his right palm over the quarter and my hand. I looked at his face. His eyes looked into mine then he closed his. I could see his lips moving like he was reciting some magic words. My left hand felt tingly and almost numb.

After a few seconds he removed his right hand from the top of mine. The quarter was gone. He held up his hand and rotated it to show that his hand was empty. He let go of my left wrist and asked me to turn my fist over, palm up. With his hand down at his sides. He said, "Now, open your hand."

I was thinking, "He's going to be disappointed. I can feel that there is nothing in my hand." I opened it slowly and there in my palm was a quarter lying heads up. I looked down and read the date. 1987.

I smiled, astonished. The gathering applauded. I handed him the quarter and he said, "Keep it, young lady, as a remembrance of me."

I backed away from the crowd, still amazed, still wondering. I stood there for a minute, lost in another world. Then I remembered that I was on my lunch hour. I glanced at my watch. Five minutes left. I headed back toward my office building when I remembered the phone call. I took out my phone. One voice mail from Karen. I played the voice mail as I picked up my pace to get back to work.

I listened to the message then stopped in my tracks. "This changes everything," I thought.

Chapter 3 by Anne

Karen is my most unusual friend. She owns a New Age shop called Twinkly Things that sells everything from candles and tarot cards to potion books and lava lamps. It is not unusual to see Karen ( aka Sister Moonlight) set up at a table reading palms or giving healing massages while her black nail polished employees are selling love potion candles to desperate customers. She calls herself "enlightened" and is constantly trying to get me to believe in the unknown.

I am just a practical girl..if its not right in front of my face then I'm not going to believe it. I am responsible and organized. I have a sensible job, a sensible boyfriend and I wear sensible shoes. The only thing in my life that doesn't make sense is Karen. We have been friends since the third grade when she saved me from Mean Maggie, the cafeteria bully, by telling her that she had a spell that would make her teeth fall out. We have been close ever since...even though I refuse to buy into the world that she lives in.

Karen has been trying to "read" me for years. I have never said yes..part of me just doesn't want to get involved and part of me is afraid of what she might find. She is always telling me that she senses things about me. Like the time that she felt that I was hiding my true self behind my Brooks Brothers sweaters. Or the time she felt that I was surrounded by liars and that I should get a cat because cats can sense lies. Then there was the time she felt that my boyfriend Sam did not love me..that he did not have my best interests at heart.

I told her to feel something useful...like when Nine West is going to have a clearance sale or when I am finally going to get that promotion that I have been promised. Strangely she never gets those type of feelings. Her feelings are more on the cryptic side.

But Karens voice mail today threw me for a loop.

"Oh why don't you ever answer the phone! This is major girl...major..I was doing my meditation today and I had a vision about you. There was you and a man with an earring and I could also sense that you were in danger. He was repeating the same numbers over and over. It was a year....1987. Do you even remember 1987? Any idea what that could mean? Call me as soon as you get this!"

How is this possible? How could she have known about the date on the coin? Could that be a coincidence? Why had I felt such a connection with that man? All the sudden I knew that I had to go back to that street magician and find out some answers.

I abruptly turned on the busy street and made my way back to him while trying to call Karen back. I got her voicemail. When I got to the intersection everyone was gone. There was no trace of the crowd..no trace of the street magician. It was like everything had vanished.

Chapter 4 by Willow

That was one of my worst hallucinations yet.

That damn medication the Doctor insisted I take had ugly side effects that were making my life a living hell.

Sure, the red rash and uncontrollable itchiness had garnered me looks of horror and had driven away some co-workers, and the short-term memory loss had gotten me in trouble when I couldn't remember some client's names; but it was the hallucinations that were going to get me fired.

Shrieking at imaginary spiders and stomping out non-existent fires was not a way to advance in the Agency. It was a conservative environment where accuracy was demanded, mistakes were frowned upon, and where I was trying hard to fit in and appear normal. Standing at the empty intersection with no magician and no crowd it was clear that I was far from normal and that I had better make some changes, and fast.

First on my list was to get back to the office and catch up on my work. Once I took care of that problem, I'd tackle the next thing on my list, killing the Doctor. After all, it was his fault.

Anyone is welcome to continue the story by writing chapter 5.

George Carlin

2006-07-29T13:52:00.000-03:00

I'm interrupting my regularly scheduled program of No Posts to share this email from my lazy-assed brother, Pedro-Wally "FISH" Diablo.

Good old George Carlin

COWS

Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that our government can track a cow born in Canada almost three years ago, right to the stall where she sleeps in the state of Washington, and they tracked her calves to their stalls. But they are unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around our country. Maybe we should give them all a cow.

CONSTITUTION

They keep talking about drafting a Constitution for Iraq. Why don't we just give them ours? It was written by a lot of really smart guys, it's worked for over 200 years, and we're not using it anymore.

TEN COMMANDMENTS

The real reason that we can't have the Ten Commandments in a Courthouse? You cannot post "Thou Shalt Not Steal," "Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery", and "Thou Shall Not Lie" in a building full of lawyers, judges, and politicians! It creates a hostile work environment!

MARTHA

"Boy, I feel a lot safer now that she's behind bars! O.J. Simpson and Kobe Bryant are still walking around; Osama bin Laden too, but they take the one woman in America willing to cook, clean, and work in the yard, and haul her ass off to jail."

NOTICE

2006-07-12T15:57:00.000-03:00

Due to the hot weather and warm ocean breezes, generalized anxiety that I'm missing out on lots of summer fun, my propensity towards apathy, the toxic effects of working full-time, and the deep urge to "CHUCK IT ALL" and "DO NOTHING"; my blog is officially on SUMMER HIATUS while I go on a much needed vacation.

Smell ya later!

Being Lazy Gets a Bum Rap

2006-06-27T16:51:00.000-03:00

I regret the lack of new posts lately, but with excess work cutting into my leisure time; every spare moment that I can grab is used for the express purpose of reclining in a lazy manner either on my couch or on a patio lounger.

I've always been cursed with a lack of energy, which I have been told on numerous occasions is unbecoming in a lady, but nothing irritates people more than the combination of apathy and general laziness. You would think that cursing and screaming like a banshee would be considered an affront, but No lying down and contemplating the role that laziness plays in my life seems to piss everyone off.

Whatever!!!

Now I have to put on a fancy dress and belt out an apology for my unseemly ways before I can go back to being a slob.

MORON ALERT!

2006-06-22T10:44:00.000-03:00

For Common Pleas Judge Eileen Gallagher who threw out a charge of rape against a man accused of raping a 10-year-old girl because the prosecutor in the case was 45 minutes late to trial.

"It was all about the unprofessional actions of a prosecutor," the Judge said. "You don't show up -- too bad. Don't treat me like a punk and not show up in court without giving us the courtesy of notifying us where you are."

Instead of fining the prosecutor, holding him in contempt, jailing him, screaming at him, or going after him with a gavel...or a gun; the judge decided to screw over the girl and her family once again by letting the rapist off the hook. MORON!!

Life Is Good!

2006-06-19T18:46:00.000-03:00

I have no pressing problems, I'm not pissed at anyone, my celebrity hating is on "Pause", Phil Michelson is a self-proclaimed "Idiot", my punctuation is riddled with mistakes, I just finished a mystery by David Rosenfelt called, "Bury the Lead" that was great entertainment, Matt Lauer did a terrible interview with Britney Spears, and I have 4 chocolates wrapped in a baggy and hidden away in the freezer for tonight BECAUSE the Stanley Cup is up for grabs in a showdown between the Edmonton Oilers and the Carolina Hurricanes.

But just because I'm not in a bad mood doesn't mean that there aren't some pissed off people and animals just looking for trouble.

I give you animals on the edge...

2006-06-14T11:09:00.000-03:00

To the naked guy on the balcony:

WHO KNEW?

2006-06-12T18:55:00.000-03:00

This morning, CNN Breaking News had in large print on the bottom of their screen the following: Autopsy Reports show that Abu Musab al-Zaraqi and his spiritual advisor both died from the bomb blast.

What the Fuck? Spiritual Advisor? Who knew that LUCIFER had a twin brother.

CNN is such a joke. Since when was it considered spiritual to advise someone to go forth and kill as many innocent people as possible? Why give the guy such a nice title? Call him a cohort, a killer, a devil, a bastard; or hey, here's a thought, call him by his given name. Just don't pretty him up and make him seem decent and honorable when he was anything but.

MOVING

2006-05-28T15:12:00.000-03:00

When I looked out my window this morning and saw everybody packing up the trucks and climbing onboard, I said to myself,

"What the HELL????"

Being a lady who hates to be left behind and who hates to miss out on any adventure, I decided to join the exodus. So I'm packing my bags and joining the caravan tomorrow. I will be unable to blog for a least a week, because of technical difficulties, but I WILL BE BACK!

"Take care Stinkers!!!!"

Video Time

2006-05-26T23:44:00.000-03:00

For your amusement and because I have a hate-on for celebs and the nonsense that surrounds them. AND because I read that the most anticipated birth of any child since Jesus is Angelina's and Brad's. Give me a Fucking Break!

The world has gone Mad!

Watch video ----- GO AWAY CELEBS

Last night I heard rustling in the bushes and saw some furitive movements in the backyard. When I stepped outside to investigate, there was the strong stench of wet fur. That usually means that Badgerbob has dipped his big snout into the birdbath in my flower garden and that he's preparing for a date with some hideous creature like himself.

Sure enough a few moments later, with a god-awful stink and a frightful roar; his date arrived from the zoo.

Fish, Fish, Kittens and Bears

2006-05-25T21:29:00.000-03:00

Horrific Mugshots

2006-05-24T09:21:00.000-03:00

There aren't many things more frightening than someone who looks like a serial killer. It's as if the monster from one of your nightmares suddenly became real.

The result, horrific mugshots.

Angler Mexicano

2006-05-23T22:19:00.000-03:00

This my lazy-assed brother, Pedro-Wally 'Fish' Diablo, one of the best anglers to ever fish in a city street. He has caught marijuana, speckled sewer trout, and the always tasty brown tortillas.

El Pedro es un Vago
(Pedro is a bum!)

Whoa! Big Kick-Ass Fish!

2006-05-22T22:52:00.000-03:00

And you thought you were having a bad day...

A Monday Morning Cartoon Posted on a Sunday

2006-05-21T11:52:00.000-03:00

I have named this week, Fish Week. To celebrate all things fish, I will be eating them, blogging about them, and burying their heads in the neighbor's back yard.

Fucking Iran

2006-05-19T17:58:00.000-03:00

This is the ugly mug of a madman - Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

Mahmoud pushed a law through parliament that requires Iran's Jews and Christians to wear coloured badges to identify them and other religious minorities as non-Muslims.

Iranian parliament, called Islamic Majlis, set a dress code for all Iranians, requiring them to wear identical "standard Islamic garments," and establishing a special insignia to be worn by all non-muslims.

In actions reminiscent of the Holocaust, Iranian Jews, which number 25,000, would have to sew a yellow strip of cloth (badge) on the front of their clothes, while Christians would wear red badges, and Zoroastrians would be forced to wear blue cloth badges.

Religious minorities would then be immediately identifiable to all Irianians; allowing Muslims to avoid contact with them, and Islamic extremists to target them.

The law will come into effect as soon as it's approved by another madman, Iran's "Supreme Guide," Ali Khamenehi.

The Wacky World of Art Revisited - Again

2006-05-17T07:40:00.000-03:00

The Turner Prize (£25,000 prize) is up for grabs again and the bookies' favorite to win the prize is Tomma Abts, an artist who admits her paintings symbolize nothing at all.

Not the smartest thing to admit, since the Turner Prize is usually awarded to the strangest and weirdest pieces of art. The rest of the nominees on the shortlist have hooks that grab the public's attention and instill either rage or delight.

Sculptor Rebecca Warren, creates sculptures of cartoon-like women with "humungous knobbly breasts and enormous bobbly buttocks." God almighty, if I considered that art, I'd spend my time looking in the fucking mirror, not standing in a lineup for more than a bloody hour to be served stale crackers, moldy cheese, and bad wine.

Then we have video artist Phil Collins, who went to Ramallah and filmed nine Palestinians in an eight-hour disco dancing session. Unlike the usual Palestinians seen on film, these guys do not dance with camels, do not bend over and take one up the bum for Hamas, and do not strap on suicide vests and blow their video artist to smithereens - damn it!

Finally, billboard creator Mark Titchner, invites viewers to shout at his work so he can translate their screams into ripples on a tray of water. Can you believe this is the crap that gets nominated? I'd like to go and see how my screams of, "Fuck you and your stinking art!" look lying next to the usual cheers and accolades.

Rebecca Warren's work

Monday Morning Cartoon

2006-05-15T10:45:00.000-03:00

A Fishy Tale

2006-05-09T17:43:00.000-03:00

I have always been suspicious of Catfish.

With their big mouths and whiskers, they've always come across to me as cocky troublemakers; but whenever I would speak publicly about my distaste for them, people would look at me aghast, like I was the one with the problem.

In your face, Naysayers!

A house fire has been blamed on a pet fish - a catfish.

Kipper, an eight-inch catfish, triggered a blaze by fighting with a rival in his fishtank.

During the altercation, water splashed out of the aquarium and landed on an electric plug in the wall below, sending a power surge up the tank's light cable and burning the plastic lid. The plastic lid then began to melt and dripped onto a leather sofa, which then burst into flames. The flames then quickly engulfed the living room and then spread to the rest of the house.

Thankfully, a smoke detector alerted the family and prevented any injury and death - to the homeowners.

I AM pleased to announce though, that the catfish got fried.

Seeking Shade

2006-05-05T08:37:00.000-03:00

I love this email:

You are a South African bush pilot flying in some critical medical supplies to a hospital.

It's a stifling 100 degrees in the shade, and after enjoying a quick lunch; you're eager to get back on your plane and up into the cool, high, blue yonder.

On the way back to your plane, you discover that the only bit of shade, within 10 miles, has become very popular . . and very dangerous .

You begin to calculate the distance you'll need to travel in order to safely reach the plane door. . and you ask yourself this important question. . .

"Do I feel lucky today?"

Clubbing Is Always An Option

2006-05-03T07:18:00.000-03:00

If there's one thing that I despise, it's someone dropping by my house for a visit and then refusing to leave. When they ignore all suggestions to hit the road and the dreaded stink-eye fails to get them packing; I break out the big guns...well actually I bring out the white chalk and I start drawing an outline around their body. That lights a fire under them and gets them out the door - fast.

Which is why I was quite stressed to read about my cousin from India, Mango Grover, who had an uninvited guest climb her tree and decide to call it home for half a century. Gayadhar Parida, 83, had a fight with his wife over a "tiny issue" 50 years ago and moved into the mango tree.

Mr. Parida's only company in the tree were some poisonous snakes, and although he accepted food that was offered to him by his family; he only left the tree to drink water from a pool. Obviously Gayadhar was not only a filthy intruder but was also a foul-smelling slob.

It's a shame that Mango didn't knock him out of the tree a few dozen times on his first night to make his stay as unpleasant as possible; and if that proved ineffective, then breaking off a branch and clubbing him senseless would have been my next choice.

Art I Like

2006-04-29T19:07:00.000-03:00

One of my favorite forms of painting is illusion art or Trompe d'oeil. Sadly, I have a hard time finding people willing to let me experiment with my trompe d'oeil technique in their homes. When I rented, I would paint murals on walls, doors, or entryways...whatever was handy. Since this was long before I had instant access to a digital camera, most of my work was rudely covered with paint by the new tenant before it could be captured on film.

But I still plan on being a Trompe d'oeil artist... someday... when I get over my tree phase and get off my couch.

Here are some creative ideas that other artists have had.

Summer

2006-04-26T23:44:00.000-03:00

This is my busy season coming up, my good people.

"Doing what?" some of you might ask, while other creatures like Badgerbob will continue to pick their noses and scratch their asses; and Morbid Misanthrope will pour himself another drink...and another drink...and another drink.

Others, the hopelessly nosy ones, will be riveted to their computers and squirming in their chairs hoping that it's going to be something quite scandalous. It's not. A little disgusting yes, but not scandalous.

This is time of year where I come out from under my fleece-blanket bedding and once again face the world; and with a few adjustments and some minor housekeeping, I will emerge as a glorious butterfly.

First though, it's time to cut my toenails. That's right. After being covered in big, thick, woolen socks throughout the winter, the time has come to drag out the garden shears and get clipping.

Stop gagging because it gets worse.

I also have to shave my legs for the first time in 6 months. Bathing suit season is around the corner and I'm quite a frightful sight, but with the help of a Mach 50 Turbo-Charged razor, some tranquilizers, and a free afternoon; I'll once again look feminine.

I think.

Finally, after a day soaking in the tub and another day spent scrubbing with a bristle brush, I will only need some nail polish and some perfume to make my metamorphosis complete. I will then be a butterfly.

I just thought you should know.

Planning Ahead

2006-04-25T10:19:00.000-03:00

SHUT UP ALREADY!!!!!!!!!!

2006-04-20T20:32:00.000-03:00

Am I the only one tired and fed up with the constant coverage on radio and television of Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes, Madonna, Katie Couric, to name a few?

PLEASE SHUT UP ALREADY!!!!!!!

While I'm glad whenever anyone delivers a healthy child; the pregnancy and delivery of a child should not take center stage in the world. Especially since I don't really care about it. It's not important in my life. I think Tom Cruise, who I used to enjoy so much, is a bit of a kook. I'd rather not hear the phrase, "Cruise Baby News " ever again.

Surely there are more important things that need to be discussed and broadcast from newsrooms. Like, the war in Afghanistan and Iraq. The looming nuclear showdown between Iran and the US. How about North Korea? Medical breakthroughs? Scientific discoveries? A great feat in Sports? Pick one, anyone.

Then there is the over-the-top coverage of Katie Couric moving to the anchor chair of the CBS Evening News. Again, not something that I really care about. She's one of the reasons that I stopped watching television in the morning. Perky is good when you're talking about breasts, but not something that I needed every a.m. while eating my breakfast.

Then there's that slutty Madonna. This is the person who simulated masturbating with a crucifix on stage years ago and simulated oral sex with a dog in her book SEX. Although she claims to be more spiritual and loving since she discovered Kabbala, she plans to start off the shows on her new tour by being lowered onstage from a giant crucifix. I could accept that if she decided to use real nails; but unfortunately, she's simulating her crucifixtion too. Damn it!

Dog Day Afternoon

2006-04-18T20:54:00.000-03:00

Post Turkey Blues

2006-04-17T11:14:00.000-03:00

My parents are in their 80's and are two of the best cooks in the world. My Dad cooked the turkey dinner yesterday with all the trimmings. The highlights, as always, are his home-made turkey stuffing (Which he calls "Dressing"); cranberry sauce which he makes from the cranberries that he picked himself; beans, turnips, and potatoes from his garden; beets and chow that were also homemade from garden grown vegetables; and some mouth-watering gravy.

The man is a genius; it was delicious; and I made a pig of myself.

Now I'm back home with only the fading memory of its deliciousness and I'm feeling a little depressed.

I think I have the post-turkey blues.

In Honor of the Easter Bunny

2006-04-15T17:40:00.000-03:00

I once had a pet rabbit called Mr. Bug whom I LOVED , LOVED, LOVED. (He was named after that pesky wabbit Bugs Bunny.)

I trained Mr. Bug to use a litter box because having to clean up his pesky droppings was driving me up the fucking wall. He would drop about 1000 raisin-poops at one time and then sprint around the furniture like a maniac. Proud of his accomplishment or high on LSD? It was hard to tell.

In the summer, I spent a lot of time out on my balcony lying on my recliner with that daredevil Mr. Bug by my side, pooping up a storm in my planters and chomping on some wooden beams, seeming unfazed that they were the only thing keeping the balcony, and me, from crashing to the ground.

There were other hazards to living with a rabbit. There were a lot of electrical cords that were gnawed on so that their wires were exposed, and a sound like rabbit laughter whenever I got a shock. There was also something suspicious about the fact that Mr. Bug would get underfoot and accidently trip me whenever I carried a sharp knife.

But there were wonderful things about Mr. Bug too. He had soft fur that begged to be stroked and a set of floppy ears that heard all my secrets. I told that rabbit everything! I mean everything! Sure his ears perked up when I mentioned anything to do with sex and his eyes would glaze over after an hour of my ranting, but he didn't run away and hide under the couch like any other sane rabbit would.

Then I needed to move because of work, and since Mr. Bug hated to travel, I left him with a loving and caring family.

Little did I know that rabbits bond with their caretaker and die of a broken heart when they are separated from them; Mr. Bug died shortly after I left him.

I think of him every Easter.

Abracadabra

2006-04-09T19:31:00.000-03:00

I'm going with my sister to see a fortune teller tomorrow afternoon and although I doubt that she'll be announcing any upcoming fortune, I am interested to know what she does have to tell me. She'll be doing a couple of spreads where she lays some cards on the table in certain patterns and then proceeds to read the meaning of their layout.

Being stubborn and opinionated, I plan to accept only good news and will immediately reject anything negative that she has to say.

I'm open to her having a black cat or wearing a turban and dangling earrings, but there had better not be any weird bloody rituals or any chickens running around without their heads.

I plan to go first and have my sister take notes, just in case some problem arises later on during the session. There may need to be a sacrifice and since I'm kind of stingy with my blood it'll have to be my sister, because it sure as hell isn't going to be me.

*UPDATE*

Due to a freak storm that closed some roads and made other roads too dangerous to drive on, my visit with the fortune teller had to be re-scheduled, allowing Sis a reprieve from her maiming and dismemberment. Oh well.

I wonder if the fortune teller foresaw the storm coming?

CRASH

2006-04-04T18:12:00.000-03:00

Two months ago I slipped on the ice and and fell in the middle of a busy intersection. Mind you, I have an uncanny ability to pretend that certain things didn't happen, so it was easy to pop back up and scurry across the road ignoring the catcalls and jeers from the waiting motorists. Bastards.

Last week, I dropped my earphones while I was on the treadmill and nearly decapitated myself; but instead of dying of mortification, I once again pretended it didn't happen and continued on with my workout.

That same day, I also got stuck in an abdominal machine because I couldn't reach the release button. Did it bother me? Hell yes. That was so embarrassing that I'm having a panic attack just remembering the incident.

But the point I'm trying to make is that as a stumblebum, I have sympathy for those unfortunate clods that trip, slip, slide, and crash their way through life. Usually.

Until I read about Nick Flynn.

Nick was visiting the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge when he took a tumble down the stairs and landed on three 17th century Qing dynasty porcelain vases, which were on display on a window sill.

The vases valued at between £200,000 and £300,000 - were left lying in hundreds of pieces after the accident.

I'm suddenly feeling a lot more graceful and elegant.

Ceramic Conservator Penny Bendall works on one of three 17th century Chinese vases.

Porn Money

2006-03-27T20:41:00.000-04:00

All you wannabe felons that are looking for a fun, yet profitable crime, have I found the perfect solution for you. Print yourself up some porno money and have a blast shopping. These Euro banknotes, fake with porn pictures, were sold in Germany as a gimmick but are being passed off to businesses and accepted as real cash.

Drooling in Vain.

2006-03-27T20:11:00.000-04:00

Due to a craving that is driving me nuts, I'm on a quest to find a good hamburger! No, make that a great hamburger. Screw all you vegetarians, PETA devotees, and other meat haters. I'm not interested in a McDonald's thin and tasteless is-it-really-even-meat burger. Nor will a whopper, junior, senior, or papa burger fill the void. I want a big, thick, juice-running-down-your-chin-into-your-cleavage delicious hamburger. Topped with cheese, onion, mustard, ketchup, pickles, and relish. They can even throw on a couple of slices of tomato, one or two pieces of lettuce, and a dash of mayo. The more the merrier, the meatier the better.

Until I find this great burger, I'll have to make due with this picture of the world's biggest burger, a 15-pounder made in Clearfield, Pennsylvania. I'm drooling in vain.

BIRD FLU ANYONE?

2006-03-22T15:03:00.000-04:00

These signs were posted along a stretch in downtown Orlando this week after cars, benches, sidewalks, plants, and even people were hit and covered by bird poop.

The problem began after city workers removed cypress trees on "bird island" because the excessive bird droppings were polluting the water. The birds then moved into the city where they began their reign of terror, covering both streets and any unlucky residents that stood in their way and leaving behind a world of white and one hell of a disgusting stench.

Residents were advised not to sit on the benches, but since the world is full of dumb-asses, there were a number of people who refused to let the bird droppings bother them and continued to eat their lunch around the droppings.

"BIRD FLU ANYONE?"

Buy More Books People!

2006-03-17T18:08:00.000-04:00

The wacky world of art and the tacky world of fashion come to an agreement on literacy.

Magnetic

2006-03-16T14:56:00.000-04:00

Granny-Attire v/s Religious-Wear

2006-03-13T10:40:00.000-04:00

Who poses the biggest security risk?

Betty Willbraham, 82, who popped into her neighborhood pub at lunchtime for a meal and half a pint of Guinness was told to take off her hat if she wanted to be served because she posed a security risk.

Hannadi Taysir Abd al-Malik Jirdath, whose head-covering WAS allowed, popped into a popular neighborhood restaurant to detonate a bomb. She blew herself up, killing 21 innocent diners and woundiing 60 others.

Truth or Hoax?

2006-03-07T18:58:00.000-04:00

Call me a skeptic, but I find it hard to believe that the family depicted in the picture are so unevolved. The family, from Turkey, walk on all fours in a "bear crawl".

Researchers have jumped to the conclusion that because the family do not walk on their knuckles like gorillas or chimpanzees, but instead walk on the palms of their hands with their fingers spread upwards; that this must be the way hominids moved to protect their fingers for more delicate movements.

They say the "timewarpfamily" suffers from a genetic condition and that the children are all mentally retarded because their mother and father were too closely related and handed down a unique combination of genes.

I say it's all a hoax.

Failed Attempt

2006-03-06T19:13:00.000-04:00

I have wonderful images of cowboys in my head. They've been created from early Clint Eastwood movies, TV shows like Gunsmoke and Bonanza, and from the great books of Louis L'Amour.

I, for one, am glad that the movie Brokeback Mountain DID NOT win the award for Best Picture and that the male actors DID NOT win awards for their portrayal of gay cowboys. This attempt by Hollywood to fuck with the cowboy FAILED.

Yee Haw!

Fucking Fashion!

2006-03-01T12:19:00.000-04:00

Maybe the next person to be kidnapped and up for beheading should be the maker of this hood, someone that seems able to ignore the horror and indignity facing innocent victims in order to sell some clothes.

SEE YA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2006-01-18T21:33:00.000-04:00

I can't blog anymore people. I had hoped that by taking a blog hiatus I would return after the rest both rejuvenated and ready to continue blogging. Not so. I'm done. Finished. Tapped out.

I want to thank the readers who took the time to read Willow's Words, the readers who sometimes dropped by to read and then took the time to comment, and the regular readers who made this blog their daily stop.

Two people, especially, made the comments section a fun place to check in and read. Badgerbob and Morbid Misanthrope with their psycho personalities and kooky responses, had me laughing out loud on many occasions and took the art of repartee to a whole new level. Thanks guys!

Willow's final Words -

See Ya!!!!!!!!!!

STELLAAAAAAAA

2006-01-17T10:23:00.000-04:00

The winners of the 2005 Stella Awards have been announced.

What are the Stella Awards you wonder? Even if you don't care, my job as a blogger is to pass on as much useless information as I can to complete strangers.

The Stella Awards are awarded to the most frivolous, ridiculous, successful lawsuits in the United States; and are named after 81 year-old Stella Liebeck who spilled hot coffee on herself and successfully sued McDonald's (in NM).

5th Place (tie): Kathleen Robertson of Austin, Texas, was awarded $80,000 by a jury of her peers after breaking her ankle tripping over a toddler who was running inside a furniture store. The owners of the store were understandably surprised at the verdict, considering the misbehaving little toddler was Ms. Robertson's son.

5th Place (tie): 19-year-old Carl Truman of Los Angeles won $74,000 and medical expenses when his neighbor ran over his hand with a Honda Accord. Mr. Truman apparently didn't notice there was someone at the wheel of the car when he was trying to steal his neighbor's hubcaps.

5th Place (tie): Terrence Dickson of Bristol, Pennsylvania, was leaving a house he had just finished robbing by way of the garage. He was not able to get the garage door to go up since the automatic door opener was malfunctioning. He couldn't re-enter the house because the door connecting the house and garage locked when he pulled it shut. The family was on vacation, and Mr. Dickson found himself locked in the garage for eight days. He subsisted on a case of Pepsi he found, and a large bag of dry dog food. He sued the homeowner's insurance claiming the situation caused him undue mental anguish. The jury agreed to the tune of 500,000.

4th Place: Jerry Williams of Little Rock, Arkansas, was awarded $14,500 and medical expenses after being bitten on the buttocks by his next door neighbor's beagle. The beagle was on a chain in its owner's fenced yard. The award was less than sought because the jury felt the dog might have been just a little provoked at the time by Mr. Williams who had climbed over the fence into the yard and was shooting it repeatedly with a pellet gun.

3rd Place: A Philadelphia restaurant was ordered to pay Amber Carson of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, $113,500 after she slipped on a soft drink and broke her coccyx (tailbone). The beverage was on the floor because Ms. Carson had thrown it at her boyfriend 30 seconds earlier during an argument.

2nd Place: Kara Walton of Claymont, Delaware, successfully sued the owner of a night club in a neighboring city when she fell from the bathroom window to the floor and knocked out her two front teeth. This occurred while Ms. Walton was trying to sneak through the window in the ladies room to avoid paying the $3.50 cover charge. She was awarded $12,000 and dental expenses.

1st Place: This year's run away winner was Mrs. Merv Grazinski of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. Mrs. Grazinski purchased a brand new 32-foot Winnebago motor home. On her first trip home, (from an OU football game), having driven onto the freeway, she set the cruise control at 70 mph and calmly left the drivers seat to go into the back & make herself a sandwich. Not surprisingly, the RV left the freeway, crashed and overturned. Mrs. Grazinski sued Winnebago for not advising her in the owner's manual that she couldn't actually do this. The jury awarded her $1,750,000 plus a new motor home. The company actually changed their manuals on the basis of this suit, just in case there were any other complete morons around.

These then are the wonderful examples of a justice system gone mad. They showcase both the stupidity of juries and the prevalent insanity among many people that allows criminals to saunter into court safe in the knowledge that they will be awarded large sums of money for being morons and incompetent boobs.

Elie Wiesel's "Night"

2006-01-16T15:56:00.000-04:00

Oprah finally hits a home run.

After years of hearing about her bookclub selections, and after coming to the conclusion that she has the worst taste in books of anybody I've ever known; she finally makes a selection that I think is worth reading. Elie Wiesel's, NIGHT.

When Elie Wiesel was 15 years old, his family was captured and imprisoned by the Nazis. His family was sent to the concentration camp at Auschwitz, where Wiesel and his father were separated from his sisters and mother, and never saw them again. After Auschwitz, Elie and his father were sent on to other camps, with his father dying in Buchenwald in 1945.

The book describes his life in a German concentration camp, and his description of his first day in the camp is stark and powerful. I personally think that the book should be required reading for all high school students - around the world!

He is one of the few people in this world that can have me stopping whatever I'm doing to watch him, and those occasions to see him on television are rare. I love the way he speaks; I love the words he uses; and I am captivated by the sadness in his eyes.

I will re-read the book myself and I'll be in front of the television for his appearance next month.

Wacky World of Art Trip - 2006

2006-01-12T21:55:00.000-04:00

It's the first road trip of 2006 and we're once again peeking in on the Wacky World of Art.

The artist is Di Peel, her passion is painting, and she doesn't just use any brush to get the results she's looking for; Di Peel uses her breasts.

Di sits at the kitchen table and describes her painting technique in this way: "I either apply the paint to my breasts and lean on to the canvas or apply the paint to the canvas and then lean into it to spread the paint."

A self-described "big woman" which is code for a "big breasted woman" the mother of two added, "I sign every picture with my nipple."

Di says she has to take a shower ever time she changes colors and uses canvases because drawing paper tends to slide around the table. She says her paintings look like abstract flowers with her latest piece looking like the Earth from space.

Her first canvas sold for $10, her second for $26 and currently she's busy with an order for 10 at a princely $89 each.

I'm Free!

2006-01-11T22:23:00.000-04:00

I've crawled out from under the suffocating blanket of drudgery to smile at the dustmites dancing in the air. It's a new year and I'm ushering in a new era - Willow's Era of Laziness.

Sure, I've managed to eke out hours of laziness before. I've enjoyed viewing the world from my comfortable couch with my combination television/stereo, bookcase/remote holder, end table/fridge, and coffee table/snack holder within comfortable reach. I was a multitasking miracle of nature.

But now, I've given myself carte blanc to ignore all chores and duties associated with cleaning - barring the necessary attention and devotion that I pay my bod.

Since I've embraced laziness there have been few repercussions. Unfortunately, I've had to forgo my daily high from the Lemon cleanser, I've blithely used and then had to throw out all my good china, and as I've mentioned in a comment to that loathsome idiot, Badgerbob, the Wiccans kicked me out of their clubhouse for throwing away my broom.

Hence my new abode. No cooking or cleaning is required! Those duties fall to the Management, folks. I'm free.

Now if only I can hunt down, capture, and painfully inform the Management of that fact, because I think that he's the stinking slob with the bad aim who keeps on missing the toilet and hitting the toilet seat during his frequent trips to the bathroom.

Magic Words

2006-01-09T23:31:00.000-04:00

On my forays throughout the house yesterday I met no other tenants - AGAIN. It felt strange being in the place by myself, and on a couple of occasions the hairs on the back of my neck slowly stood on end. There was no movement, no sounds of radios playing, no televisions...nothing. The word creepy came to mind, and although I had a deep sense of foreboding, I was feeling lonely and I was determined to meet and make a new friend.

I found myself wondering what if Morbid's right and the people aren't aliens, or weird, or hiding on me, but are only invisible? Maybe I only need to say some magic words to get them to show themselves. Swallowing my unease, I thought, "What the hell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

My query, "Where is everyone?" brought only silence, as did my tentative, "Hello?" It wasn't until I screamed the words, "You Guardians of the Gates of Hell... SHOW YOURSELVES!" that I heard the thud of feet running down the back staircase and out the door.

Although the rapid exodus took me by surprise, I'll make sure I'm blocking the exit the next time I desire some human contact.

Where is everyone?

2006-01-09T09:11:00.000-04:00

My new digs, while comfortable, are also strange. I know that there are at least 10 other people living in the same house, and I know that these same people are using the same halls and traveling the same staircases as me to get where they're going; yet I rarely see a soul.

What the hell? How weird is that? I will not become paranoid and wonder if it's my imagination or my body odor, because I just did the sniff test and I smell pretty! Well maybe not pretty, but I don't smell bad. Speaking of B.O., even Ted and his chronic cough seem to have vanished - now that's weird.

I don't know what the deal is. Is there a serial killer on the premises or a flu epidemic sweeping through the building? Whatever the reason, my mystery antenna has shot through the roof; and after I re-apply my deoderant, I'm leaving my room and I'm heading out to discover where they're all hiding and why.

Edgar A. Guest

2006-01-07T18:13:00.000-04:00

I'm interrupting tales of my Mansion Living to post a poem. Not just any old poem, but one of my favorite poems by my favorite poet. After visiting JT's site and talking about poetry, I wanted to post this poem by Edgar A. Guest. It's one that me, my mother, (yes, I have a Mom and no, she's not a Coniferous or Deciduous.) and my grandmother were able to recite by heart.

It Couldn't Be Done
by Edgar Guest

Somebody said that it couldn't be done
but he with a chuckle replied,
"that maybe it couldn't," but he'd be the one
who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
on his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
that couldn't be done, and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;
at least no one ever has done it,"
but he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
and the first thing we knew he'd begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
without any doubting or "quiddit,"
he started to sing as he tackled the thing
that couldn't be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
there are thousands to prophesy failure.
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
the dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle right in with a bit of a grin,
just take off your coat and go to it.
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
that "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

Another of his poems, one which I actually live by: My Creed

Ted

2006-01-06T07:51:00.000-04:00

2006 is the year of change for me, and I'm shaking up my life.

I just moved into a 3 story, 15 bedroom Mansion with 10 other people - my holding cell. It's a place to stay when I'm in town and a place to store my personal possessions (without worry) when I'm away; and between work and travel, I plan to be away a lot.

The house is beautiful, the atmosphere is relaxed and comfortable, and the people are interesting. Meet Ted.

Every morning I wake up to the disgusting sound of Ted coughing up a lung. At approximately 6 am, Ted stomps down the hall to the bathroom, causing a minor tremor throughout the house. He quietly closes the bathroom door and then spends the next 10 minutes loudly coughing and hacking. While Ted is busy trying to hack up a lung or two, I'm reviewing the steps I'll need to take in order to perform an emergency tracheotomy with my butterknife and Bic pen. But by the time Ted has finished his morning ritual, my only thought is how much I'd like to stab him in the chest, with either my butterknife or Bic pen, ending both his misery and mine.

Hooter's Calendar 2006

2006-01-04T16:23:00.000-04:00

Damn!

2006-01-03T10:07:00.000-04:00

Computer problems are keeping me from posting nonsense and willowisms, and are leaving me far too much time to contemplate my life. Damn wireless internet setups! Damn bubble! Damn germs!

2005-12-31T12:10:00.000-04:00

******HAPPY 2006******

In celebration of the coming new year ( 2006 for those of you without a clue or a calendar), I have taken care of all my numerous and pesky problems. My germophobia is under control (since I moved into my bubble); my head is once again sitting nicely upon my shoulders and facing forward (although my eyes still shift to the back of my head during times of stress); and I am on track with my medications (and other assorted pharmaceutical aids). What that means to you, my lucky reader, is that normal posting will resume shortly. What that also means to you, my lucky reader, is that there is no such thing as normal, but I will still resume posting shortly. Yikes, Yippie, and Yowsers!!

Forest Activity

2005-12-04T19:07:00.000-04:00

The forest is filled with activity these days. Hunters, Christmas tree enthusiasts, and squirrels have thrown my normal well-ordered world into disarray; but it's the upcoming badger hootenany that has me shoring up my defenses. Those scurvy, sniveling badgers are tearing up the forest floor like wild hogs looking for truffles, getting a space cleared for their big dancing and nose-picking party. Yeah, I cringed too. To that end, I'm taking a blogging hiatus to make sure that no uninvited guests set up housekeeping under my roof ... er ... roots.

The End

2005-11-29T23:30:00.000-04:00

50,149 / 50,000
(100.3%)

I KID YOU NOT!

2005-11-28T23:11:00.000-04:00

When I hear the words "martial arts" I automatically think of Bruce Lee and "Enter the Dragon." Watching his "Kung Fu" movies instilled in me the desire to scream out some home-made Chinese pidgin while kicking someone rapidly and repeatedly in the head...but that desire died today.

Today I read about a feat performed by martial arts grandmaster Tu Jin-Sheng, a 50-year-old Californian man, and the mystic of martial arts took a nosedive. Tu Jin-Sheng is the grandmaster of a branch of Qigong (the ancient Chinese art of movement and breathing to increase energy) called Iron Crotch and has 60,000 followers worldwide.

The feat? First Tu Jin-Sheng tied a strip of blue fabric around his penis and testicles and tugged to make sure it was on tight. Next he had an assistant kick him hard between the legs, and then he proceeded to attach his bound penis to a truck. Using only his penis, he pulled the truck several yards across a car park in Fremont. I KID YOU NOT! He performed a truck pull with his penis before a crowd of 20 spectators.

As I understand it, the practitioners of Iron Crotch lift hundreds of pounds with their genitals to increase their energy and sexual performance, and a British film crew making a documentary called Penis Envy shot the truck pull as part of the series.

I'd like to believe that Bruce Lee would have kicked his ass for pulling such a stunt.

I Caved

2005-11-27T22:34:00.000-04:00

The two glowing lights that are visible in the photo on the left are not distant headlights or torches; no, those two lights are the glowing green eyes of a stray CAT demanding entry.

I am being held hostage by stray cats. They've set up housekeeping on my step where they sit on the railing and stare in the window watching my every move. One cat in particular tries to intimidate me by giving me the stink-eye. Day and night it watches my every move, scanning my progress from room to room and breaking out of its stupor every few hours to press its face against the glass and totally freak me out.

I am tip-toeing into the kitchen at night with the lights off hoping that it can't see me. It doesn't work. Not only can it see me, but unfortunately in the dark I can see its glowing alien-eyes.

After two months of gorilla warfare, I caved. The cat now sleeps curled up a chair in the back porch and ignores me completely.

Unique Art

2005-11-25T07:59:00.000-04:00

I've spurned another trip into the Wacky World of Art to post this unique piece of Christian Art that I found on the web. At first glance it appears to be a simple sketch until you look closer and see that virtually every surface of the drawing contains hidden symbols and images. Which on closer look you can't really discern because of the black background of my new template. Oh well, as Bob Ross would say, "There are no mistakes, just happy accidents." Click on the link to decide for yourself. I changed my blog template again, so everything works!

Standing Bare and Ready To Be Covered.

2005-11-23T12:08:00.000-04:00

After a wicked windstorm last night, the trees are bare of all their leaves. Any day now, I expect to wake up and see the branches covered in snow. Yikes!

My First And Only Quiz

2005-11-22T18:46:00.000-04:00

I hate quizzes. Yet when I stopped at J. Holden's blog , I wasn't feeling my morose self and before I knew it I was checking small little boxes titled yes or no.

Here is the result people, and as you can see, I ROCK! I am a superman, superwoman, and wonderwoman combination. Yet I am also a Willow Tree. How cool is that?

I am ignoring the Flash part because I don't know enough about that freak.

You are Superman

Superman		100%
Supergirl		100%
Wonder Woman		100%
The Flash		100%
Batman		80%
Robin		80%
Hulk		80%
Green Lantern		80%
Catwoman		80%
Iron Man		80%
Spider-Man		60%

You are mild-mannered, good,
strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the "Which Superhero are you?" quiz...

Badgerbob IS An Idiot Athlete

2005-11-21T21:04:00.000-04:00

I took a break from NaNoWriMo and spent the day hanging out with the Sneaky Badger and his anonymous sidekick.

Thankfully I had my trusty digital camera to capture their athletic endeavors.

First, I captured an older lady going for a lay-up, and that idiot Badgerbob blindly reaching for a rebound. Nice socks gay-Bob.

Then the guys went for a marital arts/ninja workout.

Idiots as athletes.

Psycho Sentencing

2005-11-20T16:15:00.000-04:00

I love cats and kittens, dogs and puppies.

Nevertheless, I was surprised at the sentence handed down to one woman, Michelle Murray, who abandoned dozens of kittens in the woods. Judge Michael A. Cicconetti ordered the woman to "suffer the same consequences as those kittens." He stated, "She should have to listen to the coyotes and hear the raccoons in the dark of night."

The sentence states that, "Michelle Murray will spend the night before Thanksgiving alone in a remote area of a Lake County Metropark. She will be allowed only water, and she will not be provided with food, beverage or shelter. Murray must remain in that location until "the light of dawn on Nov. 24."

She also was given the maximum sentence of 90 days in jail, that was then suspended to 60 days with 15 days to be served under house arrest. Murray may not own or care for any animals in the next three years, and she must pay $3,200 to the Lake County Humane Society and $500 to the Metropark rangers for costs that they incurred due to her actions.

It's not the fact that the woman was punished, nor is it the psycho sentence that she received that bothers me. What bothers me is that the mistreatment of animals brings harsher sentences than the mistreatment of children.

There are thousands of children living in deplorable circumstances and suffering from daily abuses, yet I continually hear about those children being sent back home to the same neglectful parents. Why the hell can't Family Court Judges take a stand and start giving out psycho sentences to parents.

If you abandon your child, I vote that we send you off to the International Space Station for a long and lonely two years. If you abuse a child, you get shipped over to Iraq to direct traffic in downtown Baghdad where the suicide bombers and their explosives like to drive. And to those parents who starve their children or lock them in closets. I say sent them down into a mine shaft deep underground with no nitelight and no supper. Let's start balancing those scales - so to speak.

Umm Donuts

2005-11-16T20:51:00.000-04:00

As you can see, eating a donut in the morning fills me with glee. The reason that I crawl out of bed each morning, is not because I need to be at work; au contraire, I get up and dressed each morning for the pleasure of ingesting a hot cup of tea and a donut.

Although I was happy with my morning ritual, I was constantly inundated with negative opinions from family, friends, and nosy co-workers; who thought that eating a donut for breakfast wasn't a healthy habit. Whatever!!!

Being rebellious and rude by nature, I was able to ignore all those naysayers and continue on my lonely path to happiness.

That is until now. Tonight while perusing internet news sites I came across this lovely headline: Scientists say, A doughnut a day keeps stress at bay; and underneath was the sentence, Research shows sugar can be good for you by reducing stress hormones. Hello!!

An American neuroscientist, Ms. Ulrich-Lai, says sugary snacks appear to defuse the harmful stresses in our minds and bodies alike. Sweet!!

Just don't binge on it. It is believed that the sugar in one Coke or one doughnut on stressful days deactivates a chemical reaction in our bodies that is closely linked to obesity, and also to upsetting our defense against illness. This pertains to genuine sugar and not synthetic sweeteners such as aspartame.

No worries, I will be up and out again tomorrow morning indulging, aka "self-medicating" myself with my morning donut and having a happy day.

Close-Up

2005-11-15T23:32:00.000-04:00

I feel better about myself and my eating habits after catching a glimpse of Harriet.

I had been accused of having poor table manners. In fact, I have been told that my habit of spitting food across the table at my meal companions was unseemly. I WAS in the middle of a rant and trying to make a point when a piece of food went airborne. Yes, I realize that it was gross and disgusting to have it land with a splash in the soup, but in my defense, it was an accident.

So, I've taken some steps to self-improvement. I have since stopped chewing loud and slurping my soup. I no longer lick my plate after every meal and when I drop a utensil, I don't pick it up off the floor and re-use it.

I was proud of my progress until I saw a picture of Harriet filling her face and realized that I wasn't so bad after all. Therefore I am reverting back to my normal self for my next meal.

Happy Birthday to Harriet, the tortoise, who turned 175 years old today. She is the oldest living reptile on Earth.

I've Got Nothing, Nothing...Except...

2005-11-15T08:37:00.000-04:00

I've got nothing. Between novel writing, blogging, working for a living, and eking out a social life, I'm tapped.

I could post something, but it would be drivel - very painful drivel. Then I hollered, "What the hell!" While I skip through the blog world lurking and reading numerous posts, instead of writing, I've come across a lot of poetry. Now poetry usually drives me nuts, except for those instances where I come across a wonderful poem that leaves me awed.

Since I'm a caring and sharing kind of gal, I decided that you my loyal minions, and those anonymous people giving me the finger, should have the opportunity to suffer as I have. Therefore, in a generous gesture I give you a SEX poem about a tree. That's right - a Willow tree - who spies a sexy Black Locust tree across the field.

Yes, IT IS drivel, but since writing the first paragraph I've realized that since it's my drivel, that automatically makes it wonderful and unique.

READ IT AND WEEP, PEOPLE !

BLACK LOCUST

It stands erect in fertile soil,
as lusty winds
caress its foliage.
Branches swollen with moisture,
smooth bark peeled back,
embrace blossoms.
Their musky scent permeates.
Long, narrow pods
ripe with seeds,
pendulate,
enticing birds and wildlife.
Propagation guaranteed.

I'm Hiding My Tiara

2005-11-13T22:06:00.000-04:00

I'm hiding my tiara and putting my dreams to be Queen on hold since the job is now dangerous. If some muslim extremists have their way, there'll be empty rooms at Buckingham Palace.

In a move that highlights the insanity of the extremists, that fruitcake Ayman al- Zawahiri, second-in-command to Osama Bin Laden, named Queen Elizabeth II as one of the severest enemies of Islam. Now I admit that I'm not up on all the news that's happening in the world, but surely I would have remembered an incident involving Islam and the Queen? Where was I? How bizarre is it that I missed this big news event yet some loser in the desert sleeping with his camel heard about it.

Because it happened a couple of hundred years ago! He's speaking about the crusades! Talk about your "Once Upon A Time..." storyline.

I don't know about anyone else, but I have a simple rule. If I wasn't alive when some event took place, then don't come bothering me about it. If I wasn't there, then Fuck You, I'm not taking the blame!

The video aired via Al-Jazeera TV and pronounced the Queen as being ultimately responsible for Britains Crusader Laws and denounced her as an enemy of Muslims. The video also urged Muslims to take part in jihad and martyrdom, and to ignore integration into British society.

Again the solution seems simple to me. The best way to ignore integration into British society, French society, Canadian society or American society would be by staying at home with other muslims and living happily ever after in Muslim society.

LEST WE FORGET

2005-11-11T09:44:00.000-04:00

Wacky or Tacky World of Art?

2005-11-10T23:42:00.000-04:00

This piece "Cubi XXVII" just sold for 23.8 million dollars, making it the most expensive work of contemporary art ever sold at auction. The metal sculpture by artist David Smith was snapped up by Manhattan dealer Larry Gagosian.

I question the eye-sight of the winning bidder since all I see are some ugly cement blocks placed haphazardly in a freestyle doorway shape.

The Sotheby's Auctioneer believes that, This exceedingly rare work was the pinnacle of a four-decade career."

I say that the art world has lost all perspective and is certifiably mad! As a rebuttal, I have painted a seagull coming onshore to scavenge and poop. What will that be worth at auction?

Serbian Gift Giving

2005-11-09T19:52:00.000-04:00

Christmas in Serbia could be painful this year - at least for the men.

Small hand-held battery-powered electrodes, perfect for stocking stuffers, are expected to be in stores by Christmas. The electrodes are attached to either side of the testicles and deliver a small electric shock. The shock stuns the sperm into a state of immobility for 10 days, making the men temporarily infertile, and allowing couples to have sex without the fear of pregnancy.

Men in Serbia are lining up at clinics offering the service, but once the handy little gadgets arrive in stores, and are gift-wrapped and placed under the Christmas tree, the men won't need to wait in line any more.

Merry Christmas guys!

A happy customer?

Untitled

2005-11-09T00:15:00.000-04:00

Here is a rough draft of the novel that I'm writing during the month of November as part of the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). There may be errors in punctuation and syntax, but I've been assured by other bloggers who are also enrolled, that it's more important to get the story down, all 50,000 words, and to leave the editing (placed with trepidation into the capable paws of the demented Badgerbob) until a later date.

Opinions are welcome, and to prepare myself for the possibility of crashing and burning, I am donning my biker-chick leather outfit, with chaps and helmet.

Chapter 1

There is nothing as debilitating as fear.

Working alone on the midnight shift in the city's hospital emergency department was terrifying. A fresh graduate from nursing school and having little experience on the hospital wards should have disqualified me from working in the ER by myself, but because a body was needed to work the shift - any body - the nursing administrators were happy to have me on staff.

The evening shift nurses had just left after giving me their reports, and the rooms were dark and quiet. The doctors on call that night for the ER were home, probably in bed, as were most of the patients in the hospital. The emergency department consisting of five private rooms and one 4-bed ward, had only one bed occupied. Mr. Stavros, a man in his late forties, had been brought into the hospital this afternoon after suffering some grand-mal seizures. Tests had been ordered to investigate the reason for his seizures, and as soon as a bed became available on the Medical Floor, Mr. Stavros would be transferred there.

At night, a hospital has an aura of suspense. The long corridors and empty rooms magnify the silence, making the simple act of breathing, sound loud and harsh. It also increases the sense of isolation - and fear.

With my stethoscope around my neck, and pen and chart in hand, my first duty was to check on Mr. Stavros. After checking his vital signs, dispensing some anti-epileptic medication, and making sure he was comfortable; I moved on to the trauma rooms to check on the emergency supplies.

The trauma rooms are the first line of defense when an injured patient arrives. With time being of the essence, some supplies are prepared at the start of shift in case they're needed at a moment's notice. Since a bag of intravenous fluid is used for almost all admissions, I hung an intravenous bag of 5% Dextrose and Water on the pole and ran it through a line. With tape stuck on the side of the pole, some swabs for cleaning the skin and some needles nearby, the IV was ready for insertion. I placed an open suture kit and some gauze dressing onto a covered tray in case a wound needed sutures, and then went over to check the contents of the crash cart. The most important piece of life-saving equipment in the room, the cardiac crash cart held emergency medications, a defribrillator, and all the supplies that would be needed to intubate a patient.

My inspection was interrupted by the sound of an ambulance siren piercing the night, bringing with it a rush of adrenaline that left me weak and shaky.

Although the siren itself is a warning to pedestrians and drivers to slow down and move aside so that the ambulance can pass safely, the length of the siren is a warning that only the nurses are privy too. When an ambulance arrives with flashing lights but no siren, the patient needs immediate assistance, but is not considered to be in an emergency situation. When the siren cuts out a few streets away, I know a patient is arriving with serious but non life-threatening injuries. An ambulance that has it's siren sounding right to the doors, signals the worst kind of message. It carries a patient onboard needing immediate life-saving equipment and techniques in order to survive.

As the ambulance drew closer and the siren continued to wail, my heart started to beat faster. The fear of not knowing what the emergency is, combined with the fact that I am facing it alone, makes my stomach heave. Trying to stay calm, I waited by the door of the trauma room for the patient.

Chapter 2

The revolving lights lit up the ambulance bay as the ambulance backed up to the emergency doors, and I watched with trepidation as the paramedics swung into action. In tightly choreographed movements that they had performed countless times before, one paramedic was out of the ambulance and swinging open the rear door, while the other paramedic, inside monitoring the patient, was at the head of the stretcher ready to move. The patient was quickly removed from the ambulance and wheeled inside the hospital towards me.

In contrast to my shaking hands and nervous demeanor, the paramedics seemed calm and comfortable. The numerous trips that they had made bringing patients into the emergency department had provided them with a working knowledge of the trauma rooms and their contents. Within moments and without my help, they had the patient transferred to the table and were handing me his paperwork.

The patient, Mr. Robins, was a 60 year-old man complaining of chest pain, and one look at his grey face and cyanotic lips ...

Jihad In France?

2005-11-07T08:51:00.000-04:00

It started with the unfortunate death of two teenagers electrocuted while hiding from police but changed in its ferocity when a tear-gas canister exploded near a mosque sending up cries of "Jihad" and "This is war!"

Paris and it's outlying areas are under attack by unhappy immigrants and Islamic militants. Rioters using cell-phone text messages are coordinating the burning of cars, buses, warehouses and stores. There are more than 12 million people of Muslim origin in Western Europe, roughly half of them in France, and while many of them have integrated well into French society, many more are unhappy with the high unemployment and poverty. They are said to feel disconnected from their past and have little hope for the future.

Some questions:

If you have the ability to go out after dark and spend your nights setting blazes, what's keeping you from getting a backshift job at some factory?

Why burn the cars of thousands of innocent citizens when the people you're angry with, the government and especially the immigration officials, own their own cars?

If the majority of the dissidents are immigrants, why not kick their asses out of the country -today - and then re-think the whole immigration policy?

If you immigrated to a country you must have liked something about it; but if it hasn't lived up to your expectations, why not buy a one-way ticket and hop on a bus for home?

If you immigrated to a country because you feared for your life staying in your own and you're still alive, then what the fuck is your problem?

I Am SO Screwed!

2005-11-06T09:57:00.000-04:00

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) for me is an experience in ineptitude. Even without worrying about punctuation or proper spelling the words will not flow, and the few that trickle forth won't weave into a decent story. I'm a fabulous liar because I practice, practice, practice; and although I might lie to everyone else, I NEVER lie to myself. The truth is that what I'm writing is crap. I know that there's a book inside me but accessing it is another thing altogether. I am SO screwed...but I refuse to give up. (Who knew that being contrary and stubborn would come in so handy?)

I am being held hostage by stray cats. They set up housekeeping on my step where they sit on the railing and stare into the window watching my every move. Day and night they scan my progress from room to room, breaking out of their stupor every few hours to press their face against the glass and totally freak me out. I find myself having to sneak into the kitchen in the night with the lights off so that they can't see me.

If only the belligerent Dr. Buddy-Boots Bombay with his "fuck-you" attitude was around to take charge of this hostage situation.

Television is filled with stupidity. I am totally at a loss to explain the popularity of some tv shows, especially Desperate Housewives and Lost; and I find the characters, especially the one played by Terry Hatcher, stupid and irritating in the extreme. I do like Grey's Anatomy, but they're going to ruin that show by focusing on Grey and her lovelife instead of anatomy and the interesting cast. Save me from morose, depressed women who moon over guys that can't make up their mind. Kick him in the nuts already and move on.

I didn't watch the show where INXS searched for a new lead singer, but I love their new release, Pretty Vegas, and that alone will entice me to buy the CD. One CD I won't be buying is Madonna's. I can't stand techno-dancing music and her new release is such crap. Besides if you were going to pick an ABBA song to sample, why not pick a nice little ditty.

I still think that Green Day put out some of the best music this year.

The clock is still ticking on NaNoWriMo and I'm running out of time.

Bottoms Up-----On A Wall

2005-11-03T20:37:00.000-04:00

Gillian Carnegie is one of the nominees for the Turner Prize, a £25,000 award that goes to a British artist under the age of 50 for an outstanding exhibition or presentation.

The Turner Prize is considered controversial this year because Gillian is the first artist to be nominated who exclusively uses paints. Gillian is also considered controversial because her entries included a series of paintings of a naked bottom.

This year's shortlist also includes Darren Almond and his sculptures of bus stops outside the Auschwitz Museum in Poland; Jim Lambie, for his psychedelic floor pieces; and Simon Starling, for a piece in which he rode a moped across the desert in Andalucia.

Getting the shot.

Look at this guy! What a nosy Nate. You'd swear he'd never seen a naked bum before!

Hypocrisy In Hollywood

2005-11-02T21:53:00.000-04:00

Hypocrisy is all the rage in Hollywood. A new book called, "Do As I Say (Not As I Do): Profiles in Liberal Hypocrisy." by Peter Schweizer debunks the claims of celebrity ativists.

Some excerpts:

"I don't own a single share of stock!" filmmaker Michael Moore proudly proclaimed. He's right. He doesn't own a single share. He owns tens of thousands of shares including nearly 2,000 shares of Boeing, nearly 1,000 of Sonoco, more than 4,000 of Best Foods, more than 3,000 of Eli Lilly, more than 8,000 of Bank One and more than 2,000 of Halliburton, the company most vilified by Moore in "Fahrenheit 9/11."

Barbra Streisand is another proponent of environmentalism, yet she drives an SUV, lives in a mansion and has a $22,000 annual water bill. In the past, she has driven to appointments in Beverly Hills in a motor home because of her aversion to using public bathrooms.

House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi, who proclaims her support for unions, is part-owner of a luxury resort, a vineyard and some that are strictly non-union. While she advocates tough new laws enforcing environmental regulations on the private sector, the exclusive country club she partly owns failed to comply with existing environmental regulations for the past eight years including a failure to protect endangered species.

The author found a stunning record of open and shameless hypocrisy such as:

Advocates of gun control had no problem making sure that an arsenal of weapons was available to protect them from dangerous criminals.

Those who proclaim themselves champions of civil liberties when it comes to criminal or terrorist cases went to extraordinary lengths to curtail the civil liberties of others when they felt threatened or just inconvenienced.

Those who espouse strict environmental regulations worked vigorously to sidestep them when it came to their own businesses and properties.

Those who champion the cause of organized labor had developed various methods to avoid paying union wages or shunned unions altogether.

Those who are strong proponents of affirmative action rarely practiced it themselves, and some had abysmal records when it came to hiring minorities.

Pilgrimage to Romania

2005-11-01T19:58:00.000-04:00

I'm not much of a lookie-loo and you won't find me rushing whenever someone hollers, "Willow, look at this!" In fact, my modus operandi is to ignore any and all requests that involve me lifting my head from a pillow, and anything that involves me actually sitting, standing or moving isn't happening.

So I'm always amazed at the number of people who are inspired to get up, pack their bags, and travel long distances whenever they hear the word, "Miracle!"

They're called pilgrims, and they arrive, wherever the apparitions and images are appearing, with their prayer beads and books. This time they're off to Romania where a family claims that the image of Jesus and two of his disciples have appeared on a wooden wardrobe.

Valeriu Junie, 66, says he first noticed the images about a year ago, just before Christmas. He was watching television when he noticed some shadows on the wardrobe, which on closer look became the image of Jesus in the middle and the images of St Peter and St Paul on each side. He kept silent for a few weeks as the images became clearer everyday. He finally called his preiest who claimed it was a miracle and soon pilgrims started flocking to his home.

Call me a skeptic, but don't you think that the good folks that brought us the Bible, and inspired billions with the Last Supper, the Crucifixion, and the Resurrection would have Jesus appearing in a better venue, maybe on Broadway? What happened to appealing to the masses? An appearance on a wardrobe in some out-of-the-way home seems like poor PR to me.

At the risk of repeating myself, remember the SKY? That place in the movies where aliens always appear and cause heart-stopping terror? Where half of the world's people come to immediate attention, look upwards in awe, and start praying for salvation. That'd be my pick!

Heads Up!

2005-10-31T23:24:00.000-04:00

To all my loyal readers who have shown promise in the dark arts of lying and subterfuge, this is a heads-up!

As we all know office etiquette is changing and there seems to be an ugly trend developing whereupon office staff look down on self-serving, opportunistic co-workers and frown at their selfish behavior. It seems that lying and shading the truth in interviews is no longer acceptable behavior, and submitting fraudulent resumes and falsified documents will work against you.

It seems that caution is also called for in the bedroom. It is considered impolite to threaten to smother your partner, it is seen as ill-mannered and ill-bred to feign pleasure and fake orgasms, and being selfish and thinking of your own pleasure could land you in a court of law.

Last week, a Brazilian woman decided to sue her partner for not giving her orgasms. An unnamed 31-year-old filed a complaint at a police station in Jundiai. In the complaint, she complained that her 38-year-old partner reached an orgasm and then simply stopped the sexual intercourse.

The police, when asked, admitted that they will look into the complaint and treat it as they would any other complaint and let a judge decide.

Just what the courts need, angry ex's and former flames being called as witnesses to swear under oath about bedroom successes or failures, followed by ugly cross-examinations of the most private details.

Piglets and Paranoia

2005-10-30T16:26:00.000-04:00

Just what the world needs - more pigs. Not just any pigs, but 14 cloned piglets. Scientists have now cloned sheep, mice, cattle, goats, rabbits, cats, pigs, mules and dogs. Yippie.

Researchers believe that the pigs will help understand animal to human organ transplants since pigs are close to humans in terms of anatomy and physiology. Which sucks for all the apes and monkeys of the world who are feeling a little left out right now, but hey, the lack of a thumb hurt you guys in the standings.

Well, well, it appears that some aliens have been reading and enjoying my blog. I had suspected that they had been checking in on my posts for awhile, but I had had no proof. Now though, since they copied my idea of creating art with hidden codes and symbols (minus the furry creatures), I have all the proof that I need.

No, this is not my usual paranoia kicking in and distorting my perception. The aliens sent me a message last week and gave me their seal of approval when they inserted a code into a live television program. Dozens of people watching the coverage of Hurricane Wilma noticed while watching the radar, that the number two ("2" for those challenged among us) appeared in the eye of the storm.

You can copy and paste this link http://www.nbc-2.com/videoplayer.asp?videonum=051025_mystery.wmv&dw=http://www.nbc-2.com/news/videolist.shtml into your address bar to watch the video of the Doppler loop.

Yes it has to be done this annoying way because Blogger was refusing to do it correctly in my blog.

No, I did NOT watch it because it's enough that the aliens are finally taking me seriously.

Yes, that was a lie. I did watch it and it was AMAZING.

Yes if it doesn't work for you, it's because the aliens are screwing around with you.

I've Got Nothing - Nothing

2005-10-27T17:12:00.000-03:00

I've got nothing. Between novel writing, blogging, working for a living, and eking out a social life; I'm tapped. I could post something, but it would be drivel - very painful drivel.

Then I hollered, "What the hell!" While I skip through the blog world lurking and reading numerous posts, when I should be writing, I come across a lot of poetry. Now poetry usually drives me nuts, except for those instances where I come across a wonderful poem that leaves me awed.

Since I'm a caring and sharing kind of gal, I decided that you my loyal minions, and those anonymous people giving me the finger, should have the opportunity to suffer, as I have. Therefore in a generous gesture, I give you a SEX poem about a tree. That's right - a Willow tree - who spies a sexy Black Locust tree across the field.

Yes, IT IS drivel, but since writing the first paragraph I've realized that since it's my drivel, that automatically makes it wonderful and unique.

READ IT AND WEEP, PEOPLE !

It stands erect in fertile soil,

as lusty winds

caress its foliage.

Branches swollen with moisture,

smooth bark peeled back,

embrace blossoms.

Their musky scent permeates.

Long, narrow pods

ripe with seeds,

pendulate,

enticing birds and wildlife.

Propagation guaranteed.

Mean-Spirited Bastards

2005-10-27T11:36:00.000-03:00

Because I pretend to be a willow tree, I'm not bothered by the mundane things in life. I allow insults to roll off my back, money to slip through my fingers, and the thin air and low oxygen to make my head spin.

I'm perusing some internet news sites while chatting to a stray cat when I come across an article that enrages me and upsets my equilibrium. The cat frightened by the low growl coming from my throat, doesn't even ask me what's wrong before hightailing it outta here, leaving me once again talking to myself.

The news is reporting that a woman who took unpaid leave to see her husband off to war was fired after failing to show up for her part-time receptionist job the day following his departure.

What the fuck is wrong with people. I don't care whether you believe in the war or not, and I don't care how you feel about President Bush; if someone is going off to war, their spouses should be given some leeway for emotional distress without fear of reprisal.

Someone has to do the dirty work and it usually falls on the shoulders of soldiers, men and women doing the best they can in the circumstances in which they find themselves. With the number of soldiers who've died in Iraq reaching 2000, it seems to me that anyone leaving to enter the conflict must know that there's a good chance they may not make it back healthy and whole. Their spouses, also aware of the danger, deserve compassion and understanding.

On Oct. 16, Suzette Boler went with her husband, Army Spc. Jerry Boler, 45, to an Indianapolis-area airfield, where he and others in his National Guard unit gathered to be transported to Fort Dix, N.J. where they will be deployed to Iraq to help guard convoys from insurgent attacks. Talk about putting your ass on the line.

Suzette, a 40-year-old mother of three and a grandmother, had received permission to take off work, without compensation. When Boler returned home from Indiana on the night of Oct. 16, after leaving her husband at the airfield, she felt drained by the emotional ordeal and felt safe not going into work, having told her bosses that she would try to return on Oct. 17, but if she could not, she would definitely be back Oct. 18.

But on the afternoon of Oct. 17, she received a call from work telling her to come in the following day and get her things because she was being fired. Her pink slip said the reason was that she failed to show up for work Oct. 17, a Monday. She said, "If I had even an inkling that I would be fired for not coming in Monday, I would have been there."

The sad part is that in this culture she would have been better off lying and claiming she was sick, rather than being honest about needing to take the extra day for family reasons.

Officials at her former workplace, Benefit Management Administrators Inc., confirmed that Boler was dismissed when she didn't report to work the day after she said goodbye to her husband "We gave her sufficient time to get back to work," Clark Galloway, vice president of operations for Benefit Management. He also added that other factors were involved in the decision but he declined to elaborate.

Sure he refused to elaborate, because the petty creep is probably sitting in some boardroom with some other low-lifes trying to manufacture a less controversial reason for firing her, and they're probably busy shredding her good performance reports while manufacturing some bogus reports to reflect their lies.

I hope somebody comes up with a way to make Benefit Management Administrators Inc. pay for being such mean-spirited bastards.

The Wacky World of Art Revisited

2005-10-25T12:17:00.000-03:00

We're off on another visit to the Wacky World of Art. On our previous trips, we've gagged over the roadkill exhibit, vomited after viewing some bodies on display, and we've dreamed of maiming, and then killing, those stupid people who paid good money for trash.

This time we'll be shaking our heads over the idiotic Sally Madge and her pet gerbil. Called The Gerbil's Guide to the Galaxy, Sally's exhibit features the gerbil eating its way through a 1933 edition of the New Illustrated Universal Reference Book. Sally believes that the gerbil is choosing particular words and phrases to eat and thus is giving us its "personal translation" of the book. *Pause to shake head*

On display are the remnants of the 72 year old book, an empty cage containing a nest of book fragments and a video webcast of the gerbil in action. Once the gerbil finishes eating the book - aka, translating some words - the shredded paper will be turned into a new piece of artwork.

Not to be outdone, I've decided that what I need is to befriend a small, furry, burrowing creature with hidden talent. I'm sure with careful nurturing and some well-placed electrodes, I can convince my little buddy to gnaw through some wood, leaving mysterious signs and symbols that will cause upheaval throughout the artworld, and will have art historians racing from gallery to gallery anxious to break the code.

Providing Psychiatric Help

2005-10-24T20:09:00.000-03:00

I received this email from The Sneaky Badger, who's under the impression that I have some psychiatric problems that need attention. On the contrary, I happen to be one of the few normal people around the blog world, but judging by the names of some of the visitors to my blog, (Morbid, Unsane, Random Acts of Madness, Wesley Weaselkiller, Fruitcake McGavin) there are many of you poor misguided fools out there who do need help. So as a service to you, my kooky readers, I present to you the Psychiatric Hotline.

"Hello, welcome to the Psychiatric Hotline"

- If you are obsessive-compulsive, please press 1 repeatedly.
- If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2.
- If you have multiple personalities, please press 3, 4, 5, and 6.
- If you are paranoid-delusional, we know who you are and what you want. Just stay on the line so we can trace the call.
- If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell you which number to press.
- If you are manic-depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press. No one will answer.
- If you are anxious, just start pressing numbers at random.
- If you are phobic, don't press anything.
- If you are anal retentive, please hold.

Note: My hard-hitting investigative news reporting will resume tomorrow when I will have had enough time to read and copy news stories from other sources to use as my own. It's just another service that I perform, free of charge, for you, my kooky readers.

Pioneering Weekend

2005-10-22T12:43:00.000-03:00

I'm tired and lazy this weekend, which will not be breaking news to those who know me well. After two months of working 14 hour days, I plan to rest my weary body and indulge in non-strenuous activities. Which means I'm piling the couch with pillows and cushions, placing some refreshments and snacks nearby, putting the remote within reach, and paying homage to my buddy, Louis L'Amour, by immersing myself in his books. This is Sackett-fest Weekend.

I plan to ride the dark trail through the western frontier with the Sacketts. Lots of Sacketts. Tell, Orrin, and Tyrel Sackett. The twin brothers, Logan and Nolan, and cousin Lando of the Clinch Mountain Sacketts, and Milo and Barnabas Talon-Sackett. Then I'm moving on to the always enjoyable Flagan and Galloway Sackett; and my new find, The Warrior's Path featuring Yance and Kin Sackett.

By the time Sackett-fest Weekend has concluded, I'll have walked in the untamed forests and wild mountain paths in a treacherous journey. I'll have crossed Black Fetchen and lived to tell about it; and when another showdown comes, I'll stand ready with my Winchester and Colt 45 ablazing...and somebody will die. I'll have hunted sign, ramrodded cattle, rode the back trails on Big Red, and kicked-ass in Dodge.

When Monday rolls around and I head off to work I'll be ready to take on my marauding bosses, my savage co-workers, and those wild animals that work in the mailroom.

Radar Update on WILMA

2005-10-20T23:09:00.000-03:00

Advertencia: La prisa ascendente y sale de la manera rÃpidamente.
(Warning: Hurry up and get out of the way. )

Visualize Fred Flintstone wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt and low-riding shorts, with a sombrero on his big, fat head and flip-flops on his big, ugly feet. He's pounding on the door of his cabana and hollering "Barney, Wilma que viene, funcionamiento para su vida !" (Barney, Wilma's coming, run for your life!)

Get The Fuck Outta The Way!

2005-10-19T23:35:00.000-03:00

In my head I see Fred Flintstone standing outside his hut, pounding on the door and hollering, "W I L M A !"

I Need A Miracle

2005-10-18T19:09:00.000-03:00

With the fall blahs destroying my normal sunny outlook on life, I decided that what I needed was a pick-me-up. After much inner debate and a rather horrifying glimpse in the mirror; I decided that a make-over was the way to go. So, I set about checking hundreds of websites and I finally found a place that creates miracles. It promises to pamper you with hair cuts and highlights, painted nails in a range of colors, and your own special eau de toilette; but it was the before and after pictures that clinched the deal for me.

Damn You Buster!

2005-10-17T21:56:00.000-03:00

It seems to me that there is always some Wannabe Willow waiting in the wings wishing they were me and wanting my life. Not that it's the greatest or the best life around, and not that it's filled with adventure and excitement. No, they want it because it's filled with laziness. Laziness, lack of ambition, and apathy. Three things that you just can't beat.

The latest usurper comes the closest to dethrowning me. Buster the German Shepherd, a police dog in Britain, has been given early retirement because of laziness. In a performance record that comes close to duplicating mine, his bosses noted on his perfomance record that he showed poor motivation and a marked lack of interest in fighting crime. If that wasn't bad enough, they also mentioned that he also had a fondness for making friends with rowdy drunkards.

Two-year-old Buster performed well at the start of his 14-week training program, but his work gradually deteriorated and the problem worsened once he started patrolling the streets. The first sign of trouble came during a search for a missing person in Rotherham countryside, when Buster ignored a trail of footprints, curled up in the grass and closed his eyes. When called to a burglary at 3am, he walked past the thief who was hiding in the garden, and cocked his leg against a wall during the arrest.

I didn't really get upset, though, until I read that when Buster patrolled the pubs at closing times, he greeted drunken revelers and ate their fries. That takes mimicry too far. Damn you, Buster!

I'm Free to Scream Profanity

2005-10-16T14:32:00.000-03:00

This is my 100th post of either news, nonsense, or a combination of the two; and I'd like to take this opportunity to give a SHOUT OUT to the ones who helped turn me into the neurotic mess that made writing this blog possible. No, not Google, although God knows that they've been helpful; no, I'm talking about those fucking ALIENS!

That's right, I'm talking about those google-eyed, cone-headed space-cadet bastards that have been abducting me for years. A gloomy bunch with few conversational skills and absolutely no bedside manner, they've been beaming me aboard their space ship for years and sucking out all of my knowledge; leaving me a quivering mass of nerves, or as my therapist would say, a nitwit.

Before the little green men gave me the stinkeye, and arrived with their hypodermic needles and sleep inducing paralysis; I was a normal, intelligent and articulate lady. Ok, so maybe not so normal, but since they began including me in their little scientific adventure, I've become a mocking, cynical, and hard to insult person, who takes great enjoyment in skipping around the blog world commenting with strangers and trading insults with assorted riff raff.

So, yeah I'm giving the Aliens my thanks, but I'm also giving them the finger and some help to board their space ship in the way of my boot connecting with their bony-asses. Why? Because I have discovered the "Thought screen helmet" at Stop Alien Abductions. This helmet blocks telepathic communications between aliens and humans. Aliens cannot immobilize people wearing thought screens nor can they control their minds or communicate with them using their telepathy. When aliens can't communicate or control humans, they do not take them. That's right. They won't be taking me anymore and I'm free to scream profanity at their bloated-heads without fear of reprisal.

Jon Locke, alien abductee, models Michael Menkin's " Thought Screen Helmet"

((Flip Flop, Ouch! Flip Flop, Oow!))

2005-10-12T20:05:00.000-03:00

I suffer from laziness. Well not suffer, exactly, I enjoy it and the long hours of rest and relaxation that it affords me, immensely. It's an effort for me to get off my couch, lace my sneakers up, and go for a walk; especially when it's windy and cold.

Not so Lance Dyer. Dyer, the lucky yet stupid bastard, walked for 15 hours and 31 miles through the Channel Tunnel in flip flops. Maybe not the prettily designed ones that I've posted here that killed my feet on the short walk from the lawn chair to the barbecue, but he wore flip flops nevertheless.

Dyer stunned tunnel bosses by successfully dodging the high-speed trains that travelled by at frequent and regular intervals at speeds up to 100mph, and by surviving the vacuum caused by trains speeding past, that had the ability to suck up and kill any pedestrians that were standing in close proximity to them.

Dyer also stunned tunnel bosses by slipping through their security measures put in place to catch illegal immigrants and terrorists. French police finally saw him on security cameras as he emerged from the tunnel in Calais, where he was rambling and seemed confused. Due, I believe, to the excessive amount of exhaust he would have been breathing and eerily similar to what I experienced one day on a rare walk around the block.

He is now in the hands of the British police, while I'm safe on the couch watching British TV. Another eerie coincidence?

Swimming Lesson

2005-10-11T17:47:00.000-03:00

Since I continue to be a helpful and compassionate person attuned to others and willing to help those less fortunate than myself, after much inner debate, (and because he wouldn't stop begging, pleading, and drooling over my shoes) I agreed to take Badgerbob for a swimming lesson.

Knowing it wouldn't be cool to be seen with a badger, let alone an idiot badger, I had to steal two penquin outfits from the goodwill box at church to use as a disguise. I left his disguise in the dumpster outside my office, where he takes his meals, with clear instructions for him to be on the ice floe at noon and not to be late! (Badgers are notorious for public displays of nudity and for being chronically late.)

Demonstrating a perfect sidestroke motion, I was able to assist the stinky, scurvy, psycho badger (masquerading as a penquin) into the ice-cold water.

I had so much fun.

Let's do it again Bob Badger when the polar bears start roaming the ice floes. I can once again assist you into the water before running to tell the hungry bears that you've been calling them ugly names. It'll be fun!

INJUSTICE

2005-10-10T20:04:00.000-03:00

Sometimes Life is a gigantic pain in the ass that's resistant to all narcotics. At least that's how I feel watching the devastation from the earthquake in Pakistan. While there are reports of huge numbers of that country's citizens killed, injured and homeless; I just bet that the freak, Osama Bin Laden, remains healthy and unharmed in his bat cave.

The quake hit in the area of the Pakistan/Afghanistan border where Osama is believed to be hiding, and it would have been nice if Life has taken care of the bastard while he was hiding in his mountain getaway; but I guess Life was too busy crushing schools and hospitals, and fucking up the lives of thousands of school children instead.

Meanwhile Osama and his deputy, Ayman al-Zawahri, remaining in hiding to avoid capture and have lots of time to spend on plotting more death and destruction. The injustice of it all.

$ Recruiting Web Terrorists $

2005-10-09T14:37:00.000-03:00

Forget about secret back door meetings and keeping things under wraps, Al Qaeda is openly recruiting those with internet technology to help put together web statements and video montages; and they're advertising those jobs over the Internet.

As AlQaeda put it, they have "vacant positions" in the area of video production and editing in the following much sought-after destinations. Iraq (always the first choice for employees that see decapitation as a benefit) Chechnya (can meet the dual needs of those who hate the theatre but love to deploy bombs); and the always popular Palestinian Territories (a good choice for those seeking long-term employment in martyrdom).

The front man for the terrorist group and leading the recruit drive is the Global Islamic Media Front. The MF will "follow up with those Al Qaeda members interested in joining and will contact them via email". Then there is the second follow-up which they forgot to mention, the one where they deem you unworthy of the job and visit you with a missile launcher strapped to their back in lieu of a memo.

Although frequently seen as being illiterate and desert dumb, Al Qaeda supporters and groups use the Internet to set up their jihad sites. Traveling from sand dune to sand dune and using a mixture of sand smarts and camel dung, they post short movies of military movements and beheadings as a way to win young Muslim recruits and to encourage posts and messages on Islamic sites.

Be warned, the pay is not good and the benefits are deadly. The advertisements didn't mention salary amounts but instead left this oblique message in that regard. It stated, "Every Muslim knows his life is not his, since it belongs to this violated Islamic nation whose blood is being spilt. Nothing should take precedence over this."

When translated this reads, "We don't pay, you do - in blood!"

The Great Give-Away

2005-10-06T06:59:00.000-03:00

If my life was working the way I wanted, I would have been walking down a street in Liverpool, England yesterday. Not just walking down the street but skipping down the street, with my fist stuffed deep inside my jean pocket and clenched tight around the $10.00 that Ruby Dickens would have just handed me. But no, I was stuck at work, daydreaming for 7.5 hours.

Ruby, a 79 year-old woman who recently come into some unexpected money, decided that she didn't need the money and that it would be a lovely feeling to give it away to people and brighten up their day. Stating, "It's always nice to get some free money."

I wouldn't know Ruby since I was slaving away at my desk for 7.5 hours dealing with my moronic boss and obnoxious co-workers. Working myself into a lather, I might add, over the broken bra that I was wearing in an effort to be fashionable, and eating a supersized chocolate bar while daydreaming about giant rats.

Even though these important activities kept me off the streets of England, there were other nincompoops sauntering about, easily identifiable by the fact that they refused Ruby's generous offer of free money. *shakes head and sighs* Happy that she has the money to pay her bills, run her car, and go on holiday, Ruby has decided that she will continue to give out her extra money to the tune of a thousand dollars over the next few days.

After recovering from the short-term depression that hit me when I realized that I missed out on the $10.00, I felt a powerful surge of positive energy; my second in two days! I've decided that I, too, will pull a Ruby Dickens and brighten up other's days. No, I will not be giving out money; I will be giving out positive energy. That's right, it's a positive energy give-away from me to you, because my brain is just not wired to handle all this care-free, gaiety. So I will beam to you, my faithful readers, good thoughts that I hope you will snatch in your meaty fists and stuff deep in your pockets next to the lint and used tissue.

A Positive Change

2005-10-04T14:58:00.000-03:00

Notice to my readers - all 5 of you: This a pick-me-up, positive post in contrast to my usual negative point of view.

In Nova Scotia, Canada, giant rats the size of small housecats have invaded a residential area to the horror of its residents.

Why would I consider this a pick-me-up positive post you might ask ( if you gave a damn)? Well anything bad that's not happening to me, I consider a positive event; and Thank You, God that this is not happening to me.

The giant rats were displaced when highway construction destroyed their nest that sat on a prime piece of land. Construction workers at the site have seen "droves" of rats running over the swampy ground. On one side of the nest was an old pig farm (which if I was a rat - or a badger - I would consider prime real estate), while on the other side of the nest was an old chocolate factory.

Now, the thought that eating chocolate may have created a giant rat colony would be off putting to many people; but luckily for me, nothing disturbs my appetite. In fact, I plan to ponder the implications of chocolate being bad for me and good for rats while taking a break to scurry through the house rooting for chocolate.

For area residents, the danger is that those "droves" of homeless rats are looking for a new digs; and with winter creeping closer, the rats are planning a long-term stay. One homeowner has found a 20-centimeter tunnel in the wall of her dirt basement, while others are kept awake by the constant scurrying inside the walls of their house. Again, a big shout out of thanks, to God, for realizing that I just can't handle any more unwanted guests without causing bloodshed.

Notice to my 1 reader left: The positive phrase has ended.

I Need A Broken Bra!

2005-10-04T08:57:00.000-03:00

In the aftermath of both Hurricane Katrina and Rita there have been a lot of people who have stepped up and provided assistance to those people displaced and in need. The Red Cross, the Salvation Army and numerous other charities have helped by providing physical assistance, clothing, food, shelter, and money.

Then you have individuals who go through their closets and send clothing, you have families that open their cupboards and send a box of canned goods, and you have millions of people who walk to their bank or go online to contribute money.

There are people who don't give for a number of reasons; maybe they don't have it to give, maybe they weren't taught to give, and maybe they don't even know or care about what's happening somewhere far from where they reside.

Then you have pop princess Britney Spears who is doing all she can to help the victims. She has an eBay site where she is auctioning some of her personal items, including a jewel-encrusted brassiere, to raise money for the Mississippi Hurricane Recovery Fund.

The brassiere is described as, "white-stone" undergarment, worn by the singer in one of her music videos, and sports "a variety of sizes of round white stones and silver-tone beads in the intricately designed bra." The description also includes this important fact about said bra, " It sports a broken link in the center piece connecting the cups."

What that means for you bra-foregoing people among us is that the BRA IS BROKEN! The crazy coincidence is that this only this morning as I was donning my beautiful yet comfortable pink bra with its touch of lace, I was thinking to myself, "If only this bra was broken it would make it even lovelier and so much more pleasurable to wear."

Used to being a fashion disaster, I was overjoyed to discover upon further inspection that yes, I had a treasure trove of discarded bras in my underwear drawer. I quickly stripped and hastily donned a bra with the broken link and ripped bodice. There was no sigh of relief, though, at being back in fashion because the bra that I picked was too small and too tight. Damn it!

Get Out From Under Those Curtains!

2005-10-02T11:16:00.000-03:00

Sometimes you read something that stuns you with its stupidity. That's how I felt when I read about the women of Hamas.

The Hamas women have formed a new group in the Gaza Strip. The new group's purpose isn't to fight against oppression against women, and it isn't to seek basic rights that women all over the world enjoy; oh no, this new group have decided to strap on rifles and rocket-propelled grenades "for the love of jihad!"

Personally, I think that the punishing middle-east sun has finally fried all their brains. How else can you explain a group of women who are already suffocating under long black skirts and black head coverings, but decide that a heavy grenade launcher would make a great accessory.

Hamas is committed to the destruction of Israel, and the veiled women have joined with only one single aim, "jihad and resistance." Being committed to a cause, having a purpose in life, and making long-term goals used to be healthy and worthwhile endeavors until the terrorists and religious extremists made it their mantra. Now when I hear that someone is strongly committed I automatically think, "fucking fanatic!"

If the women in Gaza have such a deep desire for jihad and resistance and a need to strap on some weapons, by all means lift up those rifles ladies; but start using them closer to home. Turn to the closest male and blow him away. Better yet, forget about parading in secret locations and march on down to the local government and inform them that the days of hiding your body under blackout drapes are over! Make those bastards pay for treating you like chattel!

I've worn the veil of oppression....ok, I haven't; but only because I happen to be a very contrary person who despises rules and regulations. I also despise heavy clothing because I'm always hot, and if I was forced to cover my body I would instantly melt into a pool of anger and drown the bastard who ordered me covered. See, I understand anger. I did, however, for years cover up my hideously disfigured face as a favor to my family, but even I took the veil off on special occasions and partied. Those dark Halloween nights where I hid in the graveyard to frighten kids trick-or-treating was a blast!

A spokeswoman for the group said, "The role of women in jihad is to encourage their sons and husbands to participate. But women also have the right to wage jihad!"

By all means lets get the whole family involved in the killing, that way they can perpetuate the cycle of violence that has covered that area of the middle east for hundreds of more years to come.

No Fingers In Orifices Allowed

2005-09-28T22:13:00.000-03:00

A couple of head punches along with some jabs and kicks may win you $50.00. No, I'm not talking about beating up some unsuspecting tourist and robbing him, or popping your mother one and then grabbing her purse. I'm talking about Cage-brawling.

Two contenders are locked inside a chain-link cage and brawl to the screams of a blood-thirsty audience. Eye-gouging, groin attacks, and the always popular, sticking a finger in an orifice are banned; but anything else goes.

In places across the Midwest, audience members can be heard chanting, "Break his toe; he's just a piece of meat," or screaming such heartwarming sentiments as: "Rip that fucker!"

Some fighters are highly trained and use a combination of boxing, judo and tai kwondo; while others are just farm boys looking to make a quick buck. For anyone wanting to get in on the ground floor, or flat on their back on the cage floor, there are three two-minute rounds. Long enough on the clock to do some serious damage to a body, although supporters say that the worse injuries were just some bloodied mouths and eyes. Yikes!

Monster Mold

2005-09-27T23:44:00.000-03:00

It's called Monster Mold and it threatens the health of residents in the South.

Some people returning to their homes in St. Bernard Parish, in New Orleans, were only able to remain inside for 10 minutes. Even wearing goggles, gloves, galoshes, and a mask; they experienced burning eyes and nausea from the mold, which one lady described as smelling like death.

Colonies of mold and their spores spread throughout the air and grow on moist surfaces, spreading toxins. The resulting flooding from Katrina provided ideal growth conditions that allowed mold to penetrate so deep that experts fear that even studs of many homes are saturated and unsalvageable. Clothes can be washed or dry cleaned, but most furniture is a loss. The same is true for carpeting, insulation, wallpaper and drywall. Many homeowners will be forced to tear down and rebuild at a huge expense since most insurance companies exclude mold from their policies.

New Orlean's hospitals fill each fall with people who have difficulty breathing. Dubbed "New Orlean's Asthma," the high levels of mold spores and their toxins provoke coughing and irritate airways. To prevent causing asthma in susceptible people; hotels, restaurants, schools, public restaurants, will have to eliminate mold from their buildings. Other places that have ventilation and ductwork run the risk of spreading mold spores throughout their buildings when they use their air-conditioners or heaters.

Yet people in New Orleans are being encouraged to return to the city and resume their life. They are talking about Mardi Gras and re-opening hotels, bars, and casinos as soon as possible. Mold? What mold?