To each his own. To me my own.

Humor

Mexican’t

I feel the need to rant today, because… well I don’t really have any other material. So welcome to Life of Bon – Curmudgeon at Large.

My flowers... had to post... ♥

The boyfriend and I went out for Mexican last night at our favorite little local restaurant. We noticed as soon as we walked in that the place was dead – both inside and outside on the deck. Seeing as how the weather was so very balmy, we decided to dine outside on the huge covered deck.

A sweet little guy brings out the chips, K orders his usual stout mug of beer, and I a nice glass of merlot. The sky is a Carolina blue outside, it’s warm, and the company is beyond excellent. Beer is cold, wine is perfectly tempered, salsa is hot…

Life is good.

Enter couple with two screaming kids, who are ushered out onto the deck and promptly seated at the table directly behind us. Not at another end, not a couple of tables down even, but less than a foot behind me at the very table that backed ours. Before I continue, let me clarify that I DO NOT hate small children. NOR was it these people’s fault that they were seated where they were.

What I AM saying is the restaurant staff should know to insert at least a little space between two different sets of people with totally different scenarios…

Setting One: A couple, obviously not married, no wedding rings; in love nonetheless, once again obvious from their holding hands across the alcoholic beverage-adorned table. From the way the two are gazing at each other, they could quite possibly be the only ones existing within their own little world.

Setting Two: A couple, very obviously married from flash of wedding rings, arguing loudly while walking to their table; she with huge diaper bag over shoulder of one arm, toddler in the other, he with larger kid in tow – all proceeding to light up the entire existence with their extra-amplified voices. Birds outside are scurrying to take flight before the earthquake ensues.

Again, not their fault they were seated where they were seated. We proceed to try and continue enjoying our dinner out, when lo and behold – another thunderous approach. This new “group” has four, count ’em four, kids that resemble stair steps. The one being carried by Daddy is already crying and proceeds to whine and cry the entire dinner. So just where do these kind patrons get seated? This time, how about the table directly beside us.

At this point, nothing would have surprised us. Or so I thought.

Within the next ten minutes (our food hadn’t even arrived yet) two more sets of people with kids were ushered in (or should I say out?) and seated – ALL within the only ‘general vicinity’ that was left around us. We were now completely surrounded. At this point, we’re both feeling as out of place as a hunter might feel onstage at a PETA gathering. It was surely hilarious by this point – but the hilarity of it all was cut short due to a little girl seated at the table directly ahead of us falling backwards out of her chair. Everyone froze after hearing the sound of her head hitting the floor. You know that delayed reaction with kids when they have to *inhale gasp* in order to get their breath before the initial screams escape? Hers lasted about 10 whole seconds. She ended up being okay, and even played it up later by grinning at us as she ‘limped’ off the deck when leaving. (Hey kid, I thought you hit your head?)

Where’s the Tylenol. And Tequila.


It’s Pier-Thirty…

A man’s hope of evading a domestic violence charge was dashed when he dove into the ocean after a car chase and attempted to swim away. He ended up clinging for his life to a post of the Garden City Pier.

Read full story here.

The Garden City Pier is my very favorite. As much as I love the ocean and this pier, I simply cannot fathom jumping in and swimming out beyond it. I mean, that’s asking to either a) acquire a nice-sized hook in your neck, b) get a chunk taken out of you by the sharks that are known to frequent the waters surrounding the pier, or c) drown.

For this reason, Jerry Lee Thompson, Jr. gets my ‘balls of the day’ award. Congrats Jerry – hope it was worth all the barnacle cuts and scrapes.


Spoof Factor

What a beautiful weekend it’s been. Today K’s family is coming over to swim and cook out (his brother, sister, and their families). After that, I’ll have pretty much had my pool fix for a while.

Off to the grocery store since we exhausted what little supplies we had left yesterday. We’re even out of ketchup. No homemade anything by Bon today, there’s not enough time.

Yesterday was my clutz day. Ever have one of those days where everything you touch or make contact with results in some sort of accident or injury? That was my day yesterday. I’m hoping today will be different in that area – but since I’ve already stumped my toe at 9:30am, that hope is rapidly diminishing. Wish me luck – and remember, no news is good news.


Bits and Pieces

I gazed down at myself as I sat down in my car seat this morning and discovered a spider had hitched a ride down the stairs with me. Lovely. I should be used to it by now I so hate spiders.

On a brighter note, here comes our holiday finally and with it the three-day weekend. Longer for some, I know, but I’ll take the extra day and not complain a bit. I recently made a friend who frequents the lake (via boat) and she invited us out this weekend. I’m SO STOKED I couldn’t be more excited if I were going to the beach. Wellll, I might be a bit more excited about that – but this is still major to me. I haven’t had a good day out on a boat in well, I don’t count last year because the boat never even moved from it’s stationery spot. So, three years now. That’s far too long for ole’ water-Bon to be a land-lubber. Craving the ocean too, but that’s a whole other story. The lake will most definitely temporarily suffice.

So, Eclipse has come out. All of my New Moon buddies have seen it so far and are telling me it’s mega-awesome, so I can’t wait to see it. My guy said something about Monday and it probably will be less crowded that day. One friend of mine was going to see it for the second time last night. The last movie I went to see more than once was Nights in Rodanthe, which I saw 3 times at the theatre. I didn’t know it at the time, but that movie was to become a staple in my newfound single life.

I have a friend who is taking his girlfriend to the beach this weekend – and planning to ‘pop the question’ to her. From what he said, she’s wanted this for a long time, and what better time than July 4th holiday? I’m such a romantic, so I bask in stories like these. I got all sappy yesterday when I heard what he was planning, and the girls at work were laughing at me. I can only explain it by saying that I’ve never in my life had anyone who actually wanted to marry me, so I guess that’ll make a person a romantic if nothing else will. I can’t wait to hear how he did it when he gets back in town… will he propose on the pier? On the beach? Or maybe at Broadway, standing underneath the fireworks after they start… my goodness, I love that idea….

Stay tuned. 🙂


Six legs too many

It’s spider season again. Time to break out my double-wammy industrial-strength pow-wow… ummmmm, concoction.

Spiders??? Oh Bon, surely you can’t be talking about now… it’s June!!!… simply can’t be.  In any case, I’m sure the problem is minutely miniscule…

Ahem. Never mind the Fall season when you see all the Wolf ‘writing’ spiders. Ole Bon’s spiders say the time is now. Every morning I go down two sets of stairs looking like a zombie – left arm filled with my workbag, purse, lunch and sometimes trash, and right arm waving back and forth in front of me like a freaking moron. If I try to throw in a glance around myself to make sure no one’s watching, I lose balance and almost fall down the steps – it must be hilarious to watch. As recently as this morning, I was clotheslined by yet another invisible web on the second floor. I promptly **dropped** everything and completed two full 360’s all while appearing to have a seizure, all done in order to entertain the average viewer. You are welcome.

This takes me back to when I first moved in my current residence. It was May of ’08, and the first thing I noticed was a spider infestation. The couple that resided here for ten years prior to me were elderly, and it didn’t seem to bother them. Enter Bon. Believe me when I say it did bother me. Apparently my predecessors either a) didn’t care about the spiders or b) literally couldn’t see them. I’m shooting for the latter. I mean, these people were in their 90’s…

I was absolutely horrified. Here I was, finally, in my own little condo – perfect in every way except for a spider infestation. The balcony seemed to be the worst, so that’s where I picked to start. I made a trip to the local hardware store and bought a gallon-sized industrial strength pesticide which even came equipped with a strong pump-stream system. Just pull back on the external trigger nozzle until completely loaded, and that baby’ll spray for a full 20 seconds at warp speed.  Once I positioned myself on the stepladder and started spraying through the rafters, I completed the first two walls rather quickly. All the sudden the damn things started coming out by the dozens, spinning their long silk and swinging towards me. I immediately felt like a character out of a Stephen King book, already visualizing myself taking that accidental fall from a ladder over a third story ledge. I’m not talking small spiders – the littlest ones were about the size of my thumbprint, and that doesn’t include legs. These ‘things’ had been allowed to infest the place for so long that they had ‘morphed’ into some sort of amazon gargantuan thing not from this planet. A mega-spider, if you will. I panicked screamed. Ducked left, ducked right, and finally ducked inside – all while cursing myself for spraying more than one wall at a time, in turn pretty much barricading myself out of my home. Finally, after a couple of days of exterminating (one wall at a time from here on out, thank you) the porch was wiped clean of spiders.

Ahhhh… I am victorious!! And so was born the quest for a huge superhero applique for the front of my t-shirt. SB, for SuperBon. Or maybe even SpiderBon.

What I neglected to address in my extermination efforts was the fact that I may well have pushed some most of them indoors. Maybe they existed beforehand, I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that within those couple of days, more and more spiders began making their glorious appearing indoors – and that didn’t work for me. One night, I pulled back the comforter and sheets to get in bed – unveiling two very large black spiders smack-dab* in the middle of my bed. Realizing their newfound exposure, one shoots off to the right and the other to the left (again, like something fresh out of a nightmare). To this very day I maintain those things were mating in my bed. I managed to kill one, but never found the other. As for me, I remained in a light-filled room sitting upright in the fetal position for the rest of the night. Tucking my knees under my chin, I balled my eyes out. And come morning, I was completely unrecognizable by the people closest to me – although by this point it was questionable as to whether I had actually been bit by spiders and might be having a bad allergic reaction that swelled my entire face up.

I can laugh about all of this now. It wasn’t at all long after the ‘bed incident’ that I was completely spider-free… thanks once again to the heroic efforts of SuperBon/SpiderBon.

(But I wouldn’t want to do it all again.)

*Southern Slang definition of the day:  Smack-dab: squarely, and directly.


Wednesday isn’t a fish

My stylist cancelled out on me yesterday. I was disappointed, but understood. Her son had not completed the necessary credits to graduate high school, and come graduation day (yesterday) it hit her hard – she was just crushed. I can only imagine how she felt. So, I will go Friday instead to get the ‘hair did’.

Here’s a little Wednesday humor (thanks Christen)

An illegal immigrant picks up a hooker.

“Hey, how much you charge by da hour, sister?” he asks.

“$100,”  she replies.

In broken English, he says, “Do you do immigrant style?”

“No” she says.

“I pay you $200 to do immigrant style.”

“No,” she says, not knowing what immigrant style is.

“I pay you $300.”

“No,” she says.

“I pay you $400.”

“No,” she says.

So finally he says, “OK, I pay $1,000 to do immigrant style.”

She thinks to herself – well, I’ve been in the game for over 10 years now. I’ve had every kind of request from weirdo’s from every part of the world. How bad could  immigrant style be?

So she agrees and has sex with him. Finally, after several hours, they finish. Exhausted, the hooker turns to him and says, “Hey, I was expecting something perverted and disgusting. But that was good. So, what exactly is immigrant style?”

The illegal immigrant replies, “You send bill to Government.”


Friday yet?

No material today, so thought I’d throw in a laugh or two. Hopefully.

Poor fella. Wish I were him.

Mind your manners.

You GO, studmuffin.

Caption already noted.

This guy gets my vote for ‘funniest face of the year’.

The last end-result of the catastrophic Gulf oil spill.


Older… not necessarily wiser

The older I get, the more instances occur where I notice myself doing something foolish or embarrassing.

About a week ago, I had to go to the post office to get some stamps. The post office in my little town is actually located in the very back of a little Hallmark shop. I easily parked near the front, went in and did my business. As I got back to my car, I looked down and noticed there were very small chips of white paint coming off near the middle trim of my drivers door. I thought, damn, this car really is getting some age on it! I’d washed it not much more than a month prior, but failed to notice these little flaws. Still disbelieving, I crouched down and ran my fingers over and over the spots on my door. I clicked my keyfob to unlock my door, and didn’t pay much attention to the fact it didn’t initially unlock (sometimes I do have to click it two or three times, battery needs replacing). Crouched down again and ran my fingers over the little spots of chipped paint. Then I stood up again to unlock the door – damn, why isn’t it unlocking? I look down and notice that even the molding near the window is a more discolored black than I remember. WTH? Disparaged at this point over the appearance of my car, I click once more to unlock.

The lightbulb in my head finally came on. Oh God, this wasn’t my car. Same make, same model, same year, same color… but I am in fact standing here rubbing molesting someone else’s car. Panic-stricken, I look around and immediately take heed of the fact that I was parked another row over.

This isn’t the first time I’ve done this – but in my defense it’s been at least several months. The last time, it wasn’t even my model of car (it was white though).

I stopped at the grocery store before going in to work this morning. Whenever I’m able, I get my discount card out for scanning and have my wallet ready. As the lady in front of me finishes up, the cashier thanks her and promptly turns to me to greet me and take my card. I hand it to her, and notice a longer-than-should-be pause. She says “I’ll let you hang onto that for now”. I was handing her my bleeping ATM card. I’ll have to say she was super-gracious about it and didn’t try to (further) embarrass me.

Then there’s my speeding ticket of ’09 where I handed the officer my ATM card instead of my license. Of course that was likely a direct result of him sliding in sideways behind me to barracade me in a front parking spot at Walmart, like I had just robbed a bank or something. The common criminal that I am. I’ll have to say that cop very much deserved his severe lisp.

How about this one. I’ll ask a store clerk where something is, and they’ll point it out to me. It will NOT be visible to me. We can be almost right at it – they point to the area, describe what it’s in front of/beside of, then finally look at me in disbelief – no, I don’t see it. It’s just one of Murphy’s laws. I keep saying Ima stop asking where a certain thing is at because I always feel like an ass in the end. Anybody else have this (consistently) happen to them??

One thing’s for sure. The future should prove to be very entertaining… for others.  🙂


Hey, who moved my cheese??

I was told a long long time ago that I was a person that didn’t deal well with change. Suffice to say I’ve kicked that little issue. Oh hell – have I? With all the changes these past two years have held, guess I could say I’ve been forced to deal with change a little better. Rather, I like to think it all started a little over five years ago when I was forced to change jobs after an almost 12-year tenure. That one was a biggie.

I guess I am a little set in my ways. Just a little. But I’m also obsessive about some things. A lot. We were discussing the ‘obsessive’ in us at work the other day (okay primarily the obsessive in me). Ah, our little habits…our own eccentricities.

Hmm, if my boyfriend reads this he might not want to be my boyfriend anymore – but I’m banking on the fact that he’s already onto most of my little quirks.

I have my own personal parking spaces. Umm, at home and at work. No, it doesn’t have my name on it. At home, second one from the end. At work, perfectly centered with the front door. I get perturbed when someone takes My Spot at home – no one bothers me at work. At home when I take my trash out, I compact the air out of it – every single time. And the bag that goes back in the can will be freshly installed minus any additional air between bag and can. At all. In fact, I hate extra amounts of air in any bag – I always compress the air out of all bags I deal with (even when changing cat litter) whenever possible.

I am married to my camera. I will hold anyone and everyone up in order to get my shot – and I will get my shot. I go back to the door after I’ve locked it to ‘make sure’ and, if inside – recheck it; if outside, I give it exactly two hard tugs to make sure it won’t open. Every single time.

I am, after all, of human species. Keeping with typical Piscean fashion, I can be classified as a lazy perfectionist – a most terrible of combinations. I suffer from anxiety and calm, depression and elation, and anger and love – all at the same time. I’m odd, I’m different – and naturally me. But after all, eccentricity is a first cousin to originality…


Back when

I miss back when… Tim McGraw sings of it. I ran across this much-quoted little poem last night that entertained me – thought I’d keep it going. Remember the days before computers?

A computer was something on TV
from a science fiction show
A window was something you hated to clean…
And RAM was the cousin of a goat…

MEG was the name of your girlfriend
And GIG was your middle finger upright
Now they all mean different things
And that really MEGA bytes

An application was for employment
A program was a TV show
A cursor used profanity
A keyboard was a piano

Memory was something that you lost with age
A CD was a bank account
And if you unzipped anything in public
You’d be in jail for a while

Log on was adding wood to the fire
Hard drive was a long trip on the road
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived
And a backup happened to your commode

Cut you did with a pocket knife
Paste you did with glue
A web was a spider’s home
And a virus was the flu

I guess I’ll stick to my pad and paper
And the memory in my head
I hear nobody’s been killed in a computer crash
But when it happens they wish they were dead


The Squirrel Whisperer

To some, squirrels are menacing little creatures who monopolize your bird seed and tear up your flowers by burying their nuts in your beds. I’ve seen people take drastic measures to reduce the squirrel population – including that of my own father-in-law. He used to set trap cages in his back yard, then take them on a 20-mile or so trek via car and release them to new territory. Somehow though, he always ended up with ‘new’ ones. lol

Well, they aren’t menacing to my Mother. She has this certain understanding and sense when it comes to them – this is why I call her The Squirrel Whisperer.

I don’t know when it all started, actually. She’s always loved animals, besides her pets I mean. That of the wild. Birds and bunny rabbits – and squirrels. I remember several years back when she called up on a early Saturday afternoon. “Something is in my fireplace” she said. I went over there, and during the course of the afternoon it became apparent that there sure WAS something in there. It was a squirrel – holding on tight doing a spread-eagle on the rounded flute!! It was the funniest most pathetic sight I ever did see. Fast-forward through many attempts to free the creature, to no avail. They ended up calling this rodent-control/removal service (that assured them they would do everything humanely possible to save the animal). To make an already long story short, you’d have thought the guy was killing the squirrel. Of all the screaming, it was terrible. All the sudden, one big YANK o’ the hook and here comes the soot-stained squirrel running out from the fireplace, straight out the storm door which we had propped open. Out he goes in true Christmas Vacation fashion, leaving Mom and I standing there –  one of us holding a broom, and the other holding a blanket to shoo the squirrel towards the door like some wanna-be matador. We’ve laughed about this ‘rescue’ many times.

In her own back yard that I call little Utopia, therein resides a bird/squirrel/bunny sanctuary. Obviously all these animals talk to each other, because word has gotten out that this is THE backyard to come to. There are feeders, houses, birdbaths, little benches, flower gardens, and plenty of mature trees. If I was a bird or squirrel, I’d surely pick Mom’s back yard to live and I’ve told her so on many occasions. She just smiles.

Unfortunately Mom’s come in contact with some little orphans – in particular, one that she calls Junior. A couple of years back, there was an adult squirrel smashed out in the road. Not long after that there was a baby squirrel laying on a tree branch in her back yard, crying. Now if you’ve ever heard a squirrel cry, whether baby or adult, it’s heart-wrenching. It sounds just like a baby’s cry! Even though many things come naturally to an animal (building nests, flying, mating, hunting) a squirrel’s nest-building skills aren’t one of them. The little orphans are pretty much clueless as to how to build their home if they aren’t lessoned by a parent. After a little time, they’ll throw together a makeshift nest – though not carefully constructed enough to last. It usually always ends up back where it originated – the ground.

The first time Junior’s nest fell he was still a young lad, and he laid up on the branch and cried for a couple of days. After that he went a long stretch of time without a nest, and Mom worried about him so. Months later, he built again. Just last week after major storms, Junior’s mess of a nest was once again on the ground.

So what does his Mom do?

She gathers the nest up, puts it in a new wrought-iron basket and attaches it as high up in the tree as she can get it (barring a broken neck) near where he originally had it placed. This little squirrel loves his Mom. I see the way he looks at her when she takes pictures of him. Mom has told me when she pulls in the driveway, the little thing comes running from the back yard, up the driveway towards the car.

These little animals are lucky to have a Mom like her. And, I know how they feel. 🙂

Click here for Mom’s blog today.


Extreme memories

A while back I wrote a blog on current airport security in the States and my heavy thoughts on profiling. It’s a subject I have very strong opinions on and stated so in aforementioned blog, so I won’t rant about it again. Those of you who know me know that I’m a girl who will always live in the shadow of 9/11, lest I never forget. The shit I hear and read about daily on the news makes my gut wrench, and as I checked facts online tonight I’ve ran across more than I care to mention that makes my blood fucking boil – including thumbnail pics and links to videos of the murderous decapitations of Paul Johnson Jr. and Daniel Pearl. Enough said.

I recently received an interesting email that brought the subject of profiling fresh to the forefront of my mind again. (That’s right, look out…) This particular email has circulated around for years, which explains the original gap that skipped the years 2003-2008 – then someone inserted the Ft. Hood attack of 2009. Being the Bonster I am, I took the liberty of inserting my own material for those missing years since I felt it was too large of a gap to leave unaccounted for. Of course, I only picked one event per year to list – but believe me there were many to choose from. As always, I did my homework on the fact-checks.

Absolutely No Profiling! Pause a moment, reflect back… and take the following multiple choice test.

These events are actual events from history. They really happened! Do you remember?

Or have you forgotten?

Okay, so here’s the test.

1. In 1968 Bobby Kennedy was shot and killed by:

a. Superman
b. Jay Leno
c. Harry Potter
d. A Muslim male extremist between the ages of 17 and 40

2. In 1972 at the Munich Olympics, athletes were kidnapped and massacred by :

a. Olga Corbett
b. Sitting Bull
c. Arnold Schwarzenegger
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

3. In 1979, the US embassy in Iran was taken over by:

a. Lost Norwegians
b. Elvis
c. A tour bus full of 80-year-old women
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

4. During the 1980’s a number of Americans were kidnapped in Lebanon by:

a. John Dillinger
b. The King of Sweden
c. The Boy Scouts
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

5. In 1983, the US Marine barracks in Beirut was blown up by:

a. A pizza delivery boy
b. Pee Wee Herman
c. Geraldo Rivera
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

6. In 1985 the cruise ship Achille Lauro was hijacked and a 70 year old American passenger was murdered and thrown overboard in his wheelchair by:

a. The Smurfs
b. Davey Jones
c. The Little Mermaid
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

7. In 1985 TWA flight 847 was hijacked at Athens, and a US Navy diver trying to rescue passengers was murdered by:

a. Captain Kidd
b. Charles Lindberg
c. Mother Teresa
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

8. In 1988, Pan Am Flight 103 was bombed by:

a. Scooby Doo
b. The Tooth Fairy
c. The Sundance Kid
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

9. In 1993 the World Trade Center was bombed the first time by:

a. Richard Simmons
b. Grandma Moses
c. Michael Jordan
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

10. In 1998, the US embassies in Kenya and Tanzania were bombed by:

a. Mr. Rogers
b. Hillary Clinton, to distract attention from Wild Bill’s women problems
c. The World Wrestling Federation
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

11. On 9/11/01, four airliners were hijacked; two were used as missiles to take out the World Trade Centers and of the remaining two, one crashed into the US Pentagon and the other was diverted and crashed by the passengers.

Thousands of people were killed by:

a. Bugs Bunny, Wiley E. Coyote, Daffy Duck and Elmer Fudd
b. The Supreme Court of Florida
c. Mr. Bean
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

12. In 2002 the United States fought a war in Afghanistan against:

a. Enron
b. The Lutheran Church
c. The NFL
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

13. In 2002 reporter Daniel Pearl was kidnapped and murdered by:

a. Bonnie and Clyde
b. Captain Kangaroo
c. Billy Graham
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

14. In 2003, a series of events now known as the Casablanca bombings went down in Morocco. In all, 33 civilians were killed by:

a. Barney
b. Toby Keith
c. Mr. Magoo
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

15. In 2004, Paul Johnson Jr. was kidnapped and executed along with 2 other Americans and a BBC cameraman in Saudi Arabia by:

a. Leap Frog
b. Tony Stewart
c. Pedro
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

16. In 2005, 3 American hotels in Jordan (the Radisson, Grand Hyatt and Days Inn) were hit with bombs. 57 people were killed by:

a. A computer software program
b. PETA
c. My iPhone
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

17. In 2006, what is now referred to as the Sadr City bombings occurred, a series of car bombs and mortar attacks. It was to be the second deadliest attack since the beginning of the Iraq war in 2003. At least 215 people were killed and 257 were injured by:

a. The Bonster
b. Bon’s cat Camille
c. Bon’s gorgeous boyfriend
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

18. In 2007, the detonation of 2 car bombs near Algeria’s Constitutional Council and United Nations offices caused the death of over 60 people by:

a. Alex Trebek
b. Marilyn Manson
c. Dolly Parton
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

19. In 2008, a car bomb and rocket hit the US Embassy in Yemen as staff arrived to work. 16 people were killed by:

a. Hugh Hefner
b. The entire cast of Dancing with the Stars
c. Gilligan
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

No, I really don’t see a pattern here to justify profiling, do you?  So, just to ensure we Americans never offend anyone, particularly fanatics intent on killing us, airport security screeners will no longer be allowed to profile certain people.. They must instead conduct random searches of 80-year-old women, little kids, airline pilots with proper identification, secret agents who are members of the President’s security detail, 85-year old Congressmen with metal hips, and Medal of Honor winner and former Governor Joe Foss, but leave Muslim Males between the ages 17 and 40 alone lest they be guilty of profiling.

20. In 2009, Fort Hood Texas – 13 people were killed and 30 some odd others were wounded by…

a. Fox News
b. Howard Stern
c. The Dude who broke in your car
d. A Muslim male extremist between the ages of 17 and 40 (guess what folks, he was 39…)

Tell me… does this fit the PROFILE?! I rest my effing case.

So if the A through C’s on the multiple choices weren’t hilarious enough for ya – I just heard the best (and most awesomely BRILLIANT) semi-solution to terrorism on planes. While listening to my local 103.7 (Tanner in the Morning w/ Catherine Lane) he came up with this:

How about every airport now come equipped with this ‘booth’ that every potential passenger walks into. This ‘safety’ booth will have the ability to automatically detect and detonate any bomb that walks inside it. BAM! There’s our solution. Seriously, it’s brilliant thinking at its best. Can you imagine hearing this over the airport intercom? “Attention, all passengers of Flight 1393 en route to Belgium… we now have a seat available…”

😆


Olé

Had my guy over to eat last night. I cooked…

You got it. Full-on course o’ mexican. Ground beef, chicken and steak with all the trimmings along with refried beans, spanish rice, chips and fire-roasted salsa. Pretty much one of those dishes I could eat every day.

The now well-traveled Guadalupé says ‘Hola, Amigos – Bienvenidos!’ Hey, who needs a travelocity gnome when you’ve got a traveling Guadalupé!? I found this little guy yesterday (don’t ask me how). The name Guadalupé immediately came to mind (don’t ask me why). After that, he circulated around in pretty much everything I did. Guadalupé has made appearances in my work, emails, IMs and texts – now he’s found his way into my blog. Who knows where he and his 5 o’clock shadow will end up next. Okay, I think I mentioned yesterday that it actually takes very little to entertain me, and if there’s any one thing I’m good at – it’s entertaining myself.

So I was danger ALERT thinking about a tweet I recently saw. Yeah, twitter really can be educational. It’s always been interesting to me how stoplights operate. Whether or not they’re timed or actually have a sensor has always been a hilariously controversial subject between a certain person and myself. Of course there’s a webpage answer – I would expect nothing less!! Functionality of a traffic light

I think facebook poking is funny as hell. Especially the ‘perpetual’ poke. Have I mentioned the fact that it takes very little to entertain me?


Feather light

I am light as a feather this morning. Almost all of me. My mind. My soul. My whole sense of being.

Hey, did you hear about Mark Sanford and John Edwards being on the same democratic ticket for 2012? Mark Sanford will handle International Affairs, while John Edwards will take over Domestic Affairs.

Bah-da-BAH!! 😀

Although this joke’s probably old by now, I’ve gotta admit that I still find it funny as hell. Hey, if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry. Gotta lighten up sometime.

Birds of a feather flock together.

Ever thought about that phrase? It simply means ‘those of similar interests stick together’. I believe it to be something more like birds of ‘like feathers’. There are many varying opinions as to the origin of the phrase, and after doing a little research myself I’ve decided to just pout and settle with “a proverb of undetermined origin.”

People tend to be drawn to others with corresponding interests. They can also be attracted to persons with alike beliefs, morals and standards for living. On the high side, morale is generally high in these type groups. On the low side, certain traits and characteristics, if taken to the extreme, can be a very bad thing. Take terrorism, for example.

I see a big ole’ flock o’ DoDo’s up in Washington. Spotted ’em all the way from down here.

On another note, there is one thing that is not feather-light this morning. My heart is heavy for three of my friends, each of which has a parent in the hospital. Only one of these cases has a ‘good’ prognosis for the father. The other two, one mother is on life support and the other mother has had lung cancer spread to her brain in what is now a stage 4. I simply cannot imagine what these friends are going through. It’s simply incomprehensible to me, to lose a mother or father. I pray that God will lift my friends and their parents up.

Just another slap of reality to remind us that our time here is indeed so short. To do our very best to be happy, enjoy the time we do have – and  love like crazy.


Luck o’ de Irish

Happy St. Patrick’s Day

I’m not one of those once-a-year Irish pretenders, truth is dat I’ve actually got a good bit ‘o Irish blood runnin’ through me veins… anyway… take a shamrock wit ya fer luck…

 

Anyone acquainted with Ireland knows that the morning of St. Patrick’s Day consists of the night of the 17th of March flavored strongly with the morning of the 18th.

 

Why should you never iron a 4-leaf clover? You don’t want to press your luck. (Bah-dah-BAH…)

 

 

May the Irish hills caress you. May her lakes and rivers bless you. May the luck of the Irish enfold you. May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.~Irish Blessing

 

May you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night, and the road downhill all the way to your door.~Irish Blessing

 

There are only two kinds of people in the world, The Irish and those who wish they were. 😀  (Hey, I didn’t make that up!)

In the Life of Bon, I got a helluva lot done yesterday. After work I ran a few errands. When I got home I got a bathroom cleaned and the linens washed, cleaned and rearranged my balcony to better accomodate the pre-Spring clutter, and switched out my closet from winter to Spring. That last feat took upwards of 3 hours. It was so worth it though – everything looks so much better and I have a little more order. This morning, my car was filled with 4 bags of nonsense to dispose of.

I noticed this morning the critters are already out. By critters I mean bugs. Ugh. When I went out the front door this thing that resembled a miniature dragonfly mixed with a fly swarmed my face. Apparently I invaded it’s home on my front door.

But you’re still welcome, Spring. Any time.

 

 

 


Camille’s Big Adventure

I’m home now. But I have to say I have no idea what just happened theze past dayz.

I knew something waz up when Momy came in the front door yesterday and sez *aww, I got you a bunch of stuff*. She did, too – everything from snackz, new litterbox and litter, to thiz funky looking gadget I later learned I would be travelin inside of.

Momy was in the best mood yesterday. I think someone gave her a bunch of treatz or somethin. She was talking to me nonstop and lovin on me, well I didn’t mind that. That’s when my world gotz turned downside up.

I liked the gadget I later learned I’d be traveling inside of. It’s shaped like a tent – I heard Momy say this, anyway. It gotz windows on all sidez, and a soft bottom. Much better than that hard box with a little gate door she put me in the other timez. That one waz like a jail.

I even got inside the gadget on my own akord. Momy thought I looked cute and took picturez. But she waz missin the real reason I liked it… I thought it waz a gadget. You know, a toy – like my tubular thingy that lights up that Momy’s friend Keefer got me for Christmas. Well, they even pop open zactly the same! I think Momy callz it string-loaded. Anyway, I didn’t know she waz gonna zip it up on me and carry me

OUTSIDE OUTSIDE oh GOD I’M OUTSIDE  😦 😦 😦 😦

My world haz ended. I’m goin back to the pound I JUST KNOW I’M GOIN BACK TO THE POUND. I can’t hear what the Momy’s sayin because the poundin of my own heart drownz her out. Why are my meowz not loud enough to make her take me back home??

The big machine we’re riding inside of must be tranzporting us both to hell. I think Momy feels bad for me cuz she unzipt the gadget that I was traveling inside of and let me out. At first I thought it waz good to be free, until I saw all thoze bird-holderz in the sky whizzing by. Whiz, whiz, whiz… so fast… I couldn’t take it so I gotz down in the floor and cried. And cried. And cried.

Hmm, console? That thing that Momy restz her arm on while she drivez, so thatz what itz for? To console? Okays. Momy talked me into it, so I rode beside her on that as long she went slow. Nice and slow. Once she broke lawz and speeded up, those bird holderz in the sky started whizzing about again and I couldn’t take it. Back to the floor I go.

Momy places me back inside the gadget, here we goez again. She carriez me and the gadget to what iz certain to be the pound. Openz door and

WHOA I SEE A FAMILIAR FACE I know this guy

Oh itz Keefer… I know Keefer. Okay, is he in on this takin me back to the pound thing? Momy unzipt gadget, but do I dare come out?

In the dayz to follow I play with Keefer a lot. See, he getz bored eazy so I must keep him entertained. I didn’t sleep good last night. I decided to get on Keeferz bed the next dayz. Itz a big bed much bigger than Momyz. Birdz birdz birdz, everywhere – they is loud! Keefer opens blindz for me to look outside the bedroom window and chatter at them. I like this setup Keefer haz here. Unlike mine and Momyz place this one iz on the ground. I can see all creaturez up close. I can smell em, really I can.

An I can smell bacon and eggz cookin too. Score one for the Camille for gettin the human folk up and at ’em early-like. Theze humanz love bacon and eggz more that any humanz I ever did see. An, they alwayz gives me a little bit of the bacons. Wide padio door to look out of, front glass door to look out of, I believe I’ve located my kitty heaven.

I think I left no territory unchartered. Gotta go back and check though. Knowz one thing – Keefer must think I’m slow because therez two doors that are *shut*. I know whatz behind doorz – roomz. If they let me come back here again I’ll have to find out whatz in em. Kay, other than those two roomz, no territory left unchartered.

Theyz actin funny. Somethinz up. My string-loaded tunnel and toyz are up and gone. I saw Momy take my litterbox somewhere else. My food iz gone.

OH GOD SHEZ TAKIN ME BACK TO THE POUND AGAIN. I MUST RUN NOW.

They’ll never find me under here. Specially under a bed thiz big. I’ll just stay here for now.

Hmm Keefer’s gotz my favorite mouse in the world. He’s in there in the big room rattling it, he knowz better than that. That’s MY toy. I must go correct him

SCOOP oh I shoulda known it waz a trick you tricksterz

Back inside the gadget.

I cried the whole way home again. Momy, that speeder – shez not ‘sposed to go that fast it’s just dangerouz. Some humanz never learns. Whiz whiz whiz, my headz spinnin. My throat’s gettin sore from cryin.

I can’t believe it, I’m home. This iz home again, how did it happen? How many dayz have happened? Ten? I’m tired. And hungry. And I really need to take a crap.

And I need sleep.

Therez no place like home. Umm, I hope Momy takez me with her next week too….


It’s a Grasshopper’s world

A good friend of mine, who also happens to be a coworker for many years now, recently asked me about blogging and my thoughts on it. She has so much she wants to get off her chest that she thinks writing a blog might be the very venue she needs. It took me all of two seconds to tell her yes, I believe it’s an excellent tool to serve as that release valve. As we continued our conversation on the subject, I realized there’s one thing that seems most appreciated by everyone that blogs – the fact that it belongs to you. Within these walls, you can talk about whatever the hell you want to talk about – as long as no one gets hurt. I certainly wouldn’t list names of any of my friends or family on here, or discuss my work (other than stating, as I have before, that I love and appreciate my job and the people I work with). And umm, those of you who actually know me realize this is not me being a suckup, it’s just fact.

In my (short time of) blogging, I’ve written about politics (an all-time fave, though it always heats me up), relationships, world news, pet peeves, giant peeves, loves and hates, holidays, my childhood, celebrities, finances, weather, you name it. Yes, it IS a giant release. If you don’t believe me – try it!

I do have high hopes that my friend will start one.

I received the ‘story’ below via email from my Dad just a few minutes ago. Once I read it, I immediately had my hand set on the ‘forward’ button and thought, nahhh… this shit’s good enough to *insert here* in blog. So, that’s just what I’m gonna do.

Hope you enjoy it as much as I did. (Or, if you’re a dem, loosen up and acquire a little laughter out of it. Seems to be a shortage of that these days.) Pay attention to the color coding… it’s hilarious.


Now ya know everything

Some of this stuff circulates around in an email. Because I thought it was interesting (and also because I’m low on weekend material) I thought it appropriate to share. 🙂

  • A dime has 118 ridges around the edge.
  • A cat has 32 muscles in each ear.
  • A crocodile cannot stick out its tongue.
  • A dragonfly has a life span of 24 hours.
  • A goldfish has a memory span of three seconds.
  • A “jiffy” is an actual unit of time for 1/100th of a second.
  • A shark is the only fish that can blink with both eyes.
  • A snail can sleep for three years.
  • Al Capone’s business card said he was a used furniture dealer.
  • All 50 states are listed across the top of the Lincoln Memorial on the back of the $5 bill. (But only 27 are actually shown – the Bon-ster has put a lupe on it and counted them herself.)
  • Almonds are a member of the peach family.
  • An ostrich’s eye is bigger than its brain. And my guy recently told me that an ostrich can live 100 years, and also that a 200-pound man can stand on an ostrich egg and not break it. (Yet the baby can bust out of it.)
  • Babies are born without kneecaps. They don’t appear until the child reaches 2 to 6 years of age.
  • Butterflies taste with their feet.
  • Cats have over one hundred vocal sounds. Dogs only have about 10.
  • “Dreamt” is the only English word that ends in the letters “mt.”
  • February 1865 is the only month in recorded history not to have a full moon.
  • In the last 4,000 years, no new animals have been domesticated.
  • If the population of  China walked past you, in single file, the line would never end because of the rate of reproduction..
  • If you are an average American, in your whole life, you will spend an average of 6 months waiting at red lights.
  • It’s impossible to sneeze with your eyes open.
  • Leonardo Da Vinci invented the scissors.
  • Maine is the only state whose name is just one syllable.
  • No word in the English language rhymes with month, orange, silver, or purple.
  • On a Canadian two dollar bill, the flag flying over the Parliament building is an  American flag.
  • Our eyes are always the same size from birth, but our nose and ears never stop growing.
  • Peanuts are one of the ingredients of dynamite.
  • Rubber bands last longer when refrigerated.
  • “Stewardesses” is the longest word typed with only the left hand and “lollipop” with your right.
  • The average person’s left hand does 56% of the typing.
  • The cruise liner, QE2, moves only six inches for each gallon of diesel that it burns.
  • The microwave was invented after a researcher walked by a radar tube and a chocolate bar melted in his pocket.
  • The sentence: “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog” uses every letter of the alphabet.
  • The winter of 1932 was so cold that  Niagara Falls froze completely solid.
  • The words ‘racecar,’ ‘kayak’ and ‘level’ are the same whether they are read left to right or right to left (palindromes).
  • There are 293 ways to make change for a dollar.
  • There are more chickens than people in the world.
  • There are only four words in the English language which end in “dous”:  tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous.
  • There are two words in the English language that have all five vowels in order:  “abstemious” and “facetious.”
  • There’s no Betty Rubble in the Flintstones Chewable Vitamins.
  • Tigers have striped skin, not just striped fur.
  • TYPEWRITER is the longest word that can be made using the letters only on one row of the keyboard.
  • Winston Churchill was born in a ladies’ room during a dance.
  • Women blink nearly twice as much as men.
  • Your stomach has to produce a new layer of mucus every two weeks; otherwise it will digest itself.
  • Now you know Everything.