How my Dad's warped sense of humor made me a better person

My father was an odd, odd man. He had an extremely strange sense of humor and I like to think that I inherited it. Sarcasm mixed with slapstick, tempered by a very dark appreciation for the absurd. Here are some examples of how he molded my tender mind and helped me evolve into the person I am today.

Example Number One:
It's a Saturday afternoon during the late 1970's. Dad has visitation and has picked up Kari and I. He is planning on taking us to a movie, The Muppet Movie. We get to the theater and The Muppet Movie has sold out. What does Dad do? Take us out to eat and bring us to a later showing of The Muppet Movie? No. He buys us tickets to Animal House. I am 12, Kari is 10. This is probably not the best choice for us, right? Well, I can't speak for my sister but I loved Animal House and thought it was hilarious (this probably explains a lot about why I am seriously considering going to see "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle").

Example Number Two:
Staying overnight at Dad's (I'm about 13-14?). I forgot to bring a book. Those of you who have read The Fish Hook Saga are painfully aware of what can happen if I don't have reading material. I come across a book that strikes me as being somewhat interesting. It is called The Happy Hooker. Hmm, perhaps it's about fishing. It is not about fishing, not by a long shot (for those not familiar with the Happy Hooker, her name is Xaveria Hollander and she wrote several books about her life as a prostitute. There's even a movie (which I did see but not because of my father)). It is extremely interesting until my little brat sister narcs on me to Dad. He later tells me he would have let me finish the book but he was afraid Kari would tell Mom.

There are many other things that Dad did which would strike many people as odd parenting choices but I don't have time to list all of them. One of the things you should know about my Dad is that he was extremely brilliant but also, throughout the majority of my childhood, a raving lunatic drunken lush who I observed choking my mother on at least one occasion and, apparently for fun, would throw beer bottles at her. I've blocked out most of my childhood and didn't remember the thing about the beer bottles until Mom was having the dining room remodeled and I was helping her take pictures down. There were all these holes behind the pictures.

"What are these holes from, Mom?" I asked. She looked at me blankly.
"You honestly don't remember?"
"Uh, no, I wouldn't have asked if I remembered," I said.
"Well, that's from when your father would use me as target practice," she said nonchalantly. I have to give my Mom a lot of credit. My Dad was not a good man when he was drinking. She stood by him when he went through treatment several different times, tried to support him and her two children and finally divorced him when I was 13. And even after the divorce, after all the things he had put her through, she rarely ever had a bad word to say about him.

So how did this make me a better person? Good question. One day, during the late 70's, I came home from school with an assignment for one of my classes. I needed to know what nationalities I was descended from. I asked my Dad for help even though I could tell he'd been drinking. I remember watching him weave back and forth in the breezeway, clutching his beer bottle, scribbling down information on the sheet of blank paper. I read what he had written. "German, French, Dutch, Norwegian, Scot-Irish." This was written in normal handwriting. On another line, his handwriting became more bold, slashing against the whiteness of the paper. "Polish. Black. Jackass, on your mother's side."

I knew the Jackass part was a joke but was puzzled about why he had written that I was part Black. He then proceeded to tell me how my great-great-great-great ("I don't know how many greats. It was a long time ago") grandfather had been a slave owner, raped a slave girl and, when she had a son that passed as white, forced his wife to raise the child as her own. He told me about Rosa Parks and gave me his copy of "Black Like Me" by John Howard Griffin. I was probably about 13 or 14 and learning about Civil Rights at the right knee of a man who wouldn't remember our conversation, or, even my name, two hours later.

Because of this new knowledge, I began to hate ethnic jokes. Why did the joke have to be about an American, a Polish person and a French person? Why couldn't it be about three different people, one of which just happened to be dumb? I would listen to the person tell the joke and then, very politely, smile and say "You know, I am part Polish." Inheriting my father's warped sense of humor, I enjoyed watching the person stumble all over themselves apologizing. The same thing worked whenever someone would make remarks about Blacks around me. I would listen to them, smile and say "You know, I am part Black." Shut them up every time.

Because of my Dad, I grew up to believe that you should follow the Golden Rule (do unto others as you would have others do unto you) and stand up for what you believe in. Even when, years later, I found out that he made the whole thing up. I'm not part Polish, I'm not part Black, it was all a ploy to make sure I grew up to treat everyone the same.

After his funeral, my sister, 3 half-sisters and some of my 4 half-brothers got together and were reminiscing about Dad. I brought up the previous story. I remember my half-sister, Suz, laughing as she related the story about how Dad told her and several of our brothers that the reason they loved spaghetti so much was because they were part Italian. Another sister mentioned being told she was part Native American and that was why she liked camping.

I really believe that you treat people the way you learn to treat them. Environment is a big part of learning and your kids watch what you do to find out how they should react. If you're teaching hatred, don't be surprised when your kids start teaching it themselves. My parents set good examples for Kari and I and we will set good examples for Josh and any other child that follows into the family. But I'm glad he made up this elaborate story to bring this situation home just a little bit more. He made me start thinking and researching and wondering about other cultures, other lives. He made me who I am today. I really believe that if he was still alive today, he would be telling Josh about his great-great-great-great grandfather who was gay and that's why Josh is such a snazzy dresser (okay, Josh is 10 months old. He doesn't have any particular tastes yet, I'm just using a very broad example. Kari dresses Josh, that's why he's snazzy. Unless the Vikings are playing, then Eric is in control of the wardrobe).

Previous comments

At 11:47 PM, DeAnn said...
I couldn't agree more. We become what we learn. And it's awesome when that influence makes you funny. Or good-natured. Or happy. Or just calm.Even odd is fun, don't you think?

Last Comic Standing - Update

Tammy Pescatelli, I'm sorry to be the one to inform you of this but apparently, I am not the only one in the world who wishes to see John, Alonzo and Gary pour oil on each other. The majority of the searches leading to my blog this week have been looking for pictures of them naked, gay or both and only 1 search request for you. I'm sorry. I know how devastating this must be for you.

Last Tuesday wasn't all that exciting for me. It's the Wild Card episode and so the people who were voted out get a chance to come back and compete again. I really enjoyed Jay London and Ant's performances but never liked the others that were voted out so I was happy to see Jay London is coming back. I would have been just as happy if Ant would have been voted back in.

Looking forward to this Tuesday.

When Fantasy crashes into Reality and there is a ticket for reckless driving

Thanks to Beth for inspiring this post. Be sure to read her post about her blind date. Very funny stuff.

I am a fickle, fickle girl. I always have been...back in high school (many many moons ago), I once had a crush on seven (7) guys during the same week. I had a list. Number 7 was "Boy who held the water fountain for me." I don't think I ever saw him again or knew what his name was.

Anyway, I've always been a bit of a flirt and, sometimes, this can get me into trouble. Or even worse, into a blind date. Something very important to know about me...I have never been in love. I have been in like, in lust and insane but I've never been in love. I don't know if it's a committment problem or what the deal is but while I like men and think they are wonderful (Even though they don't recognize me for the love goddess that I am and worship at my feet, offering to feed me small bites of cheese and brussel sprouts (I don't like grapes)), I never seem to be able to get past that first bit of infatuation and build the lasting relationship.

So my blind date story goes as follows:

I am working at the job from hell. I am the Office Manager or Receptionist (depends on who you talked to) for a small wire distribution in Minnesota. Part of my job is to take orders for wire from other companies. One of these companies has hired a new employee named Malcolm (I have no clue what his name really was, I just love the name Malcolm). Malcolm and I have a great time talking to each other every time he calls.

A few weeks go by and the conversations have progressed from "Hi, Dana, we'd like to order five boxes of wire today" to "What's your favorite color? Are you involved with anyone? And, oh, yeah, I guess we did need some wire, I should probably order that." I was no better, with my questions of "What type of movies do you like? Are you involved with anyone?" instead of "That will come to $75 with shipping and handling."

My co-boss (there were two of them, Satan and his wife (names changed to protect the jackasses. You'll get to read more about them in a later post. They were great (yes, that's a sarcastic great))), Marcy was listening to our calls and laughing, encouraging me. Whenever Satan wasn't around, she and I were great friends. This was one of the times that he wasn't there, thank God, he was out in the warehouse screaming at truck drivers for driving too close to his building. She made some comment about him and I replied, "Marcy, if he's half as good looking as he sounds on the phone, he'll be drop dead gorgeous."

The phone rings. I answer it in my chirpy voice "Small Wire Distribution company in Minnesota, this is Dana, how may I help you?"

"Dana, this is Malcolm."

"Oh, hi, Malcolm. Did you need more wire?"

"No, I was wondering if you wanted to get together and do something."

I stare at the phone in shock. I'm being asked out? This never happens (Okay, so this should be my first clue, right? The reason I am never asked out is because the normal, average male is extremely shallow and focuses on appearance. Malcolm has never seen me. He has no clue what I look like and is asking out Fantasy Dana from the sound of my voice. Of course, I've never seen him either...) . I turn to Marcy and mouth "He just asked me out!" She mouths back "Go for it!" (Well, honestly, it could have easily been "Get back to work!" I'm not known for my accurate lip reading)

"Um, sure," I stammer. (Yeah, way to keep that witty dialouge going there, Dana!) We agree to talk about the details later and I provide him with my home phone number. Later that night, he calls, we talk, I tell him I don't drive, he wonders why, I tell him why (and you can read the posts if you want to know why, they are here and here (although the 2nd post didn't happen until last year)), he laughs and we agree to get together that weekend to play mini golf. Which, laugh all you want, is actually not a bad idea. It gives you a chance to talk and get to know each other and there's no pressure, you can have a good time and play a game and have fun. I am looking forward to my date with Malcolm. I spend the rest of the week obsessing over what I am going to wear and drag my friends out shopping.

Saturday night appears. I am ready with my new black blazer (very slimming, because, while I haven't reached the full round voluptous stature of the love goddess I am today, I was working on it.), gold (sparkly!) top and black pants. My hair is styled, I am wearing make-up. I look good. Well, good for me. And, yes, I realize I'm being hard on myself but when you're the type of girl who is referred to as "having a great personality," it's hard not to be.

There is a knock on the door. I pull the door open. And then, here is where the title comes in. I can tell by looking at Malcolm that he's not overly thrilled comparing the real me to the fantasy me. I am not thrilled by the real Malcolm compared to the fantasy Malcolm (Although, in my defense, I have always been attracted to men that other women don't find attractive. I'll post on that in a day or two). Call me crazy, but I have a hard time getting turned on by men who are 3 to 5 inches shorter than me, especially since I'm 5'4". Of course, it's obvious Malcolm was probably not expecting me to be as zaftig as I was.

I will give him, actually both of us, credit. Instead of saying "No way in hell," we made the most of the date. We went to play mini golf, it was fun, we enjoyed talking to each other. There was absolutely no chemistry. He drove me home and here is where I lost all respect for him. We are sitting in the car, talking and I, being polite, invite him upstairs for a drink. He makes this big show of looking at his watch and saying "Oh, is that the time? I promised a friend I'd meet them in Minneapolis at midnight." May I just say "Riiiiiighhhht" to that? It was 11:50. I didn't call him on it, though, I had been hoping he'd say no anyway. We said good night, he left, I went upstairs.

On Monday, Marcy wanted to know all of the details. As I was filling her in, the phone rings. It's someone from the company Malcolm works at, Julie. While I'm taking the order, she casually asks me a question. "So, how did your date go with Malcolm, Dana?"

"You knew about that?" I ask.

"Yeah, he was telling everyone about it, earlier this week."

"Why didn't you ask him?"

"Oh, I suppose he wouldn't tell you. We fired him on Friday. He was stealing from us," Julie says. My mouth drops open. I finish taking the order and hang up.

So, here's what an overactive imagination got me: a short, lying, unemployed criminal. There are some benefits to being overweight - repelling losers and always being a little warm in winter are the only two I've found so far but hey, I'm sure there are others.

I can't believe I didn't think of this myself

Frog talked about this website, titled Someone You Know Is Gay.  This is a wonderful idea.  It is, simply put, a way to remind Americans that we each probably know someone who is gay.  If we admit that we know someone is gay, then maybe it's not so hard to take the next step, to realize that all people should be treated equally and that gays have just as much right to be married.  I have signed the pledge.

Maybe you should sign as well.  Let's think about it...someone you know is gay.  It may be your neighbor, your co-worker, your kid, your parent, your cousin, your friend.

I said a bad, bad thing

So Friday I'm on a bus headed out to the Saint Croix river.  The Bank of DM (or NABABANA, whichever you prefer) has put together a boat ride for the high performers of last quarter and Beth invited me as her guest.

We're on our way, headed towards Stillwater when I look outside and see this gigantic red truck (ooh, shiny) but it's got an accessory I would never consider putting on my truck (or El Camino, because, hey, if you're going to dream, dream big).

Now, I was raised to treat everyone the same, to not make generalizations, to not prejudge people.  And yet, I saw this truck with it's giant American flag with eagle screen printed in the back window (similar to this) and I, I (oh, this pains me to admit it) turned to Beth and made a horrid, horrid remark.

"Why is it that whenever I see something like this, I immediately think F*ckin' Republican?" 

I know.  I know this is wrong.  This person could just be really proud to be an American.  They could be an Independant or even a Democrat.  And I know that not all Republicans are bad...Some of my friends are Republicans.  They're not close friends, well, actually they're more like work friends but still, they're not bad people.  Even when they tell me I'm a member of the Loony Left (Why, yes, Donovan, I am talking about you).

I know that not every Republican is a narrow-minded bigot who enjoys a snack of Freedom Fries with a dash of salt and good old American ketchup while trying to take away human rights.  Thanks to Alas, a blog for pointing me to this absurdity.  I'm just curious.  I'm not really a ketchup fan.  Does anyone know of a good patriotic mustard I should be using?  I'm a Plochman's girl but, oh, wait, their founder emigrated from Germany...I could use French's mustard (I have a backup book and yes, I have a backup mustard) but I'd have to start calling it Freedom's mustard. 

And I apologize if this offends anyone but I'm sorry, as much as I love America, the whole "Hey, let's plaster the American flag on everything" is getting old.  I'm tired of Freedom Fries.  I certainly will never be using Wketchup.  Don't these people realize how silly they are?  I love how one of their comments to someone (on the left) went like this "In addition, we are highly patriotic and wanted a ketchup that all American's could agree on. "  Aargh!  Well, this American hopes you learn when to apostrophe and when not to apostrophe.  Dang it!  Oh, well, one of the things I believe, as an American, is that everyone has the right to make a fool out of themselves. 

Now myself, I'm thinking I'm going to start manufacturing Rainbow Mustard, a portion of the profits will go to the fight for gays and lesbians to be able to legally marry and adopt.  Anyone want to help me with the start-up costs?  And I probably could use a recipe for mustard while we're at it.

Last Comic Standing - Update

Yes, yes, I know I'm behind.  It's all TV Guide's fault. 

I should probably explain that, huh?  So TV Guide is mailed to you about a week in advance.  So I got the issue, started reading it (not noticing that I was on the wrong week) and noticed that there was a Last Comic Standing article.  You can imagine the excitement at the table when I mentioned this to Keem, especially since it was Tuesday night and LCS would appear on our TV. 

DM:  Ooh, Keem, look...Last Comic Standing article!

Keem:  Oh, cool.  I want to read it after you.

DM:  Ooh, look.  John Heffron.  He pretty.

Keem:  I like Gary Gulman, he's very cute.

DM:  Ooh, shiny picture of Alonzo Bodden.  I like.  He pretty as well.  I lick picture now. (Okay, no, I did not lick the article...but Alonzo Bodden is hot.  Freakin' Hot!)  Ick.  Corey Holcomb.  He annoy me.  Take article away.  Bad article.

Keem:  Wait, why are there only six of them?  Tammy and Kathleen are here but who's missing? 

This is when we discovered that we were on the wrong week and that our beloved Jay London would obviously be leaving the house.  We were sad.  There were tears involved.  I was almost too depressed to watch LCS.  I still did, of course, because, hello, Alonzo Bodden and John Heffron?  Not going to miss them.

Jay went up against Gary and they were both hilarious...it's just that Jay's sense of humor is witty and bright and (why do I want to break out into song (I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright)) not everyone gets it.  Not all people are fans of one-liners.  While Gary tells humorous stories and more people got it, I guess.  Sigh.

And last week, well, my dream came true.  Corey Holcomb is gone.  Hahahahahaha!  Now, that's funny! 

There was the reality show twist of bringing back all of the comics that had been voted off back.  These comics wouldn't perform, had no chance of winning but they did get to vote to see who would go into the head to head that night.  Bonnie McFarlane made some comment about how hard this was for her because she hated everyone.  Please.  Let's hold a grudge because it's just a game! 

So the decision was made, John Heffron against Corey Holcomb.  And then Jay Mohr comes out with another twist (stupid reality shows with all of their twists) and it's a three headed head to head.  Alonzo Bodden is up on the chopping block as well.  I am now seriously annoyed because if one of my boys loses, I will be very, very upset. 

Jeff wandered into the living room to watch with us earlier.  He's not so much of a stand up comic fan but it was on and he wanted to spend some quality time with us as well.  So he was there when I made the following comment (please do not read this, Mom.  You don't want to know this) "I think Gary and John and Alonzo should all win.  And then they should pour oil on each other." 

Keem replied with "Dana!  Please, keep your fantasies to yourself."  But she was eyeing up Gary and thinking about the butter in the kitchen.  I know her.  And yay!  Alonzo and John trounced Corey's ass because he proved what I knew all along...he's only got two funny jokes and he didn't bother to tell either. 

I look forward to Tuesday.

Oh, Jay Mohr was doing his usual stand up moment before the comics came out at the head to head.  He was talking about how it's almost impossible to hit a bird and then, one day, he's driving down the road with a buddy and they're having a theological debate and Jay says something to the effect of "Well, I'm not really sure that there is a God."  And suddenly, he hits a bird.  He and his buddy are freaked out.  And he leaves it at that. 

Keem laughs and says "Jay, God flipped you the bird.  Pay attention."  Do you see how funny she is?  Do you see why I want her to blog?  Would other people start asking her to blog because she's threatening me with a blog-harrassment suit?

It could happen to you - The Introduction to Family

Disclaimer:  If you haven't read Part One or Part Two yet, you may want to do that first.  Otherwise, you are not going to get the whole effect of how it's really hard to write without pronouns... 

A year had gone by.  Jack and Jon were graduating and were nervous about the fact that both sets of parents were going to visit at the same time for the first time.  Jack and Jon had spent a lot of time discussing this moment and had decided that this was the perfect moment to inform their parents of the truth - Jack and Jon weren't just roommates, they were lovers. 

Jon was extremely nervous.  Jack relaxed on the couch, watching as Jon paced back and forth in the apartment, adjusting a lampshade, dusting the coffee table for the 12th time, fluffing their cat's fur... "Jon, settle down.  It's going to be okay."

"You don't know that.  You don't know how my parents are going to react to the news...your parents hate me."

"No, they don't.  Dad told me how much he likes you.  Relax.  Come on, sit down.  What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, they could storm out of here and never speak to us again..."

"And if that happens, we'll deal with it.  I really don't think that either of our parents are going to disown us.  They might be upset but they love us.  I'm sure that they'll be accepting."

"You're right.  It'll be fine," Jon said, finally taking Jack's hand and sitting on the couch.  Then, the doorbell rang.  "Oh, my God, they're here!"  Jon ran to the door and pulled it open.

"There's my baby!"  Jon's mother, Dorothy, cried, rushing in the door to embrace her child.  "I've missed you so much!"  She turned to Jack.  "Hello, Jack, how are you doing?"

"I'm good, ma'am.  It's a pleasure to see you again."  Jack rose from the couch to shake Dorothy's hand.  "Did you need me to see to your luggage?" 

"Oh, no.  Andy's just parking the car and will bring it up.  Will we finally be meeting your parents today, Jack?"

"Yes, they should be here momentarily."  There was a knock on the door and Jon answered, ushering in another woman and two men.  "Let's do the introductions.  Andy and Dorothy, these are my parents.  Larry and Jamie."  The two sets of parents exchanged greetings, glad to finally meet.  "Jon, is dinner ready?"

"Yes, Jack.  Let's go into the dining room and eat.  And then Jack and I have something we want to tell you."

After dinner, Jon stood up and turned to Andy and Dorothy.  "There is something I have been hiding from you and I've decided that it's not fair to you to continue lying.  I hope that you can forgive me for not including you in what has been a major decision in my life."

"What is it, baby?" Dorothy asked, clutching Andy's hand.  "Are you okay?  Is there something wrong?"

"Yes, Jon, you know you can tell us anything," Andy said.  "We love you and will stand by you, no matter what."  Jon smiled at them and turned to Jack.

"I also have to confess something," Jack said. "I've also been living a lie and feel that it's time to come forward and hope that you'll be accepting."

Larry leaned forward. "You're my kid, Jack.  I love you and I'm always going to be there for you.  Nothing you could tell me would make me stop loving you."  Jamie echoed Larry's sentiment.

Jack and Jon stood in the middle of the room.  Jack took Jon's hand.  "Okay, here goes.  Pop, Dad, I'm in love with Jon."

Jon smiled at Jack. "Mom, Mumsy, I'm in love with Jack."  Dorothy burst into tears and Andy leaned over to console her.  "Oh, Mumsy, it's okay.  Please don't cry."

Andy looked up.  "Jonna, I don't know what to say.  I never expected this from you.  What happened to Sandy?  I thought you were still together."

"I know you did, Mom," Jon said.  "But Sandy and I weren't right for each other.  I realized that when I met Jack.  Will you accept our relationship?" 

Meanwhile, Larry and Jamie were talking to Jack. "I don't understand, Jack.  What about Alex?  I thought you were serious about each other?" Larry asked.

"I'm sorry, Dad.  Alex and I broke up over a year ago.  I was just afraid to tell you.  I didn't think you'd understand," Jack replied.

"Well, all I care about is your happiness, son," Jamie said, taking Jack's hand. "I just hope you realize how tough this decision is going to be for you."

Larry was still shook by his son's decision. "Jack, are you sure about this?  I know that people experiment when they're in college.  Hell, I even fooled around a few times."  He caught the look that his husband gave him.  "Jamie, I told you about that.  I was drunk.  It didn't mean anything.  Jack, really, have you thought this through?"

"I'm sorry, Dad.  I'm sure.  I love Jonna and I want to spend the rest of my life with her.  I just hope you can accept the fact that we're straight.  We know that it's going to be difficult and that a lot of people won't understand.  We know that we may never be able to legally get married or that our children won't be considered both of our children by the government.  But this is who we are.  And we're not going to change that just because society just doesn't understand that not everyone in this world is gay.  There are straight people in this world and eventually the government is going to have to start giving us equal rights."

"You're right, son.  I guess I just never thought about the laws before.  It never affected me before," Jamie said, pulling his son into a tight embrace. "Welcome to the family, Jonna."

 
Author's Note - About 12 years ago, I lived in Madison, Wisconsin, on the politically correct side of town (predominately gay) and saw a bumper sticker that read "When did you first learn you were straight?"  It always sat in the back of my head.  Lately, with the fight for gay rights, it's been on my mind a lot. 

The other thing that made me come up with this story is a conversation Beth and I had the other day when we discussed how our parents brought us up...you can see Beth's thoughts on the subject on her blog (conveniently linked to the right) and I will post how my Dad creatively elected to make sure that I never grew up to be a bigot soon.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this...even though it is so far from being the best thing I have ever written.  Did I mention how hard it is to write without pronouns?  And if you think my story is far-fetched, well, obviously you've never watched the Twilight Zone, Mork and Mindy and Finnegan's Rainbow. 

It could happen to you - The Kiss

Jon finally decided that the worst thing that could possibly happen is that Jack would reject Jon's advances.  A phone call was made to Jack, asking to meet that evening at the library.  Jack agreed, later telling Alex about a fictional test would be taking place the next day.

Jack approached the table where Jon was waiting.  Both Jack and Jon noticed silently the preparation that each other had taken for this meeting.  Both had rejected their usual uniform of jeans and t-shirts normally worn for an all-night study session and instead, were dressed up.  Jack pulled out a chair and sat down.

"You wanted to talk?" Jack asked quietly.

"Yes.  I have something I need to ask you...but maybe we should go somewhere else?" Jon whispered.

"Okay.  I brought my car tonight," Jack replied.  "I thought maybe we could grab something to eat later, off campus.  Where should we go?"

Jon stood up.  "I know a spot where we can talk without being interrupted.  I'll give you directions."

An hour later, Jack pulled the car off to the side of the lake.  "This is really out of the way.  How did you find this place?"

"Sandy used to bring me out here.  No one else comes out here, I guess.  Maybe this is a bad idea, we can go somewhere else if you..."  Jon stopped talking when Jack slowly reached out and picked up Jon's hand.

"I don't want to go anywhere else.  This is fine," Jack said.  "You said we needed to  talk."

"I think you're right."  Jon swiveled in the seat to face Jack.  "I don't know how to say this.  I'm really worried about how you're going to react to this and I'm afraid it's going to ruin our friendship but...I...well, I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship.  I'm, well, I'm really attracted to you."  Jon said the last two sentences in a rush, worried about Jack's reaction.

Jack smiled in relief.  "Oh, God, I thought for sure you were going to tell me you didn't want to see me anymore.  I'm crazy about you, Jon.  I think of you all the time.  I broke up with Alex last night because I just couldn't fake my interest anymore."

Jon felt tears of joy well up.  "I have wanted to do this for awhile, I just hid my feelings from myself and from you."  Jon reached out and touched Jack's face softly.  They leaned in to each other and kissed for the first time.  It was the most magical experience either of them had ever had, different from what they were both used to with their former lovers.  The kiss became more passionate and then Jack pulled away and began to rain kisses all over Jon's face.

"I love you, Jack," Jon said softly.  "I think I have from when we first met."

Jack pulled back.  "I love you too, Jon.  What are we going to do?" 

Jon knew that Jack wasn't talking about how they would consumate their love for each other.  Both Jon and Jack knew how society reacted to what was considered taboo relationships.  The name calling, the hate letters...the news would report stories of violence in some cases in which a couple had been discovered.  By declaring their love for each other, they were taking a serious risk.  "Maybe we can keep it quiet?  I don't know what else to do...No one should have any problem with us being seen as friends.  We just have to be careful."

"Maybe we could get an apartment together off campus next semester and say we're roommates?"  Jack asked.  "That is, if you would want to..."

"Live with you?  Be with you all the time?  I would love that.  We better get a two bedroom, though.  I don't think my family would be ready for this yet."  Jon snuggled up to Jack, pulling Jack in for another kiss.  "I am.  I am very ready for what the future brings."   

It could happen to you - Jack and Jon meet

Jack and Jon met when they were in college.  One night at the library, Jack was working on a report for Abnormal Psych and Jon was studying for a test in Advanced Chem.  Jack asked to borrow a pencil from Jon.  A simple start to what ended up being a three hour conversation on everything and anything and coffee at the local diner.   There was no thought of romance in the beginning.  Jack was dating a very nice nurse, Alex, and Jon was seeing a cheerleader named Sandy.  They became friends and liked to get together to talk and just hang out.
 
Then Sandy wanted a commitment and started screaming when Jon admitted that their future together was not the most important thing on Jon's mind.  Jon realized that continuing to see Sandy was not going to work out, there was too much drama and not enough intelligence to keep Jon's interest. 
 
Jack and Jon made plans to meet the next night but Jack never showed up.  When Jon ran into Jack at the library a few days later, Jack pretended that nothing was wrong and tried to brush Jon off.  Jon pressed for more information and Jack muttered something about the nurse, Alex, was jealous of the amount of time Jack and Jon spent together.  Alex was threatening to to start rumors about Jack and Jon's involvement.  Jon laughed it off and made a comment about "What is Alex so worried about?  We're just friends."

Jack muttered "I know.  That's what I said."  But something about Jack's tone and the faint blush made Jon realize that, just maybe, Jack didn't think of Jon as just a friend.  Jack quickly changed the subject and left soon after.

That night, Jon lay in bed and thought about what had happened.  What had gone wrong with Sandy, honestly?  Was it the fact that Sandy was too dramatic and annoying or was it really the fact that Jon wasn't attracted to Sandy?  The more Jon thought about it, the more the realization came.  Jon had started dating Sandy out of convenience and had never been fully into the relationship.  When Jack had come along, it was so much easier for Jon to blow off Sandy to spend time with Jack.  Jon drifted off to sleep and had the strangest dream.

In the dream, Jon was lying in bed with Jack.  Even though Jon had always just thought of Jack as a friend, in the dream, they were kissing one another.  And it felt right, it felt wonderful.  Jon woke up realizing that Jack wasn't just a friend, Jack was the love of Jon's life.  But what to do?  Society had just not come around to the idea of accepting this kind of relationship.  And, honestly, how did Jack feel?  A faint blush wasn't really a declaration of love.  What was Jon going to do?  If Jack didn't feel the same way, Jon was going to be very embarrassed...or possibly beaten to a bloody pulp if Jack reacted in an unfavorable manner.

What A Great Idea

Alas, a blog has a very good point today about what would make it fair if the government continues to oppose gay marriage. 
 
I realized the other day, while reading frog's blog, that I don't speak about this often enough.  As a heterosexual, I have a responsibility to my gay brethren and sistren (I don't think that's actually a word but I like it) to shout from the rooftops my support for their struggle. 

I wish that everyone who has ever been discriminated against would join in the fight.  And, honestly, if you really think about it, haven't we all been discriminated against?  Let's look at the highlights here, people:

1. I'm a woman.  I have been discriminated against by people who do not feel that I can do the same job as a man for the same pay.  Fortunately, I no longer work for this person but there are a lot of women who still deal with this crap everyday.
2. I'm overweight.  Yes, this is my problem to deal with but I had an employer who told me I was lucky that he hired me because who else would want to hire a fat chick?  I have gone on job interviews only to be told I didn't fit in with the rest of the office (all model thin and perfect looking).

If you have ever been discriminated against, please look into your heart and ask yourself "How did it feel when I was rejected based on my gender or the color of my skin or what I look like?"  If you're anything like me, it hurt.

What it comes down to, people, is that this is about basic human rights.  Everyone should be treated equally.  We all know that there are jackasses all over this country who still feel that women should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen or that blacks should still not be able to vote or that all Hispanics are lazy.  Stereotypes hurt and are wrong and prejudice should not be a part of our constitution. 

What it comes down to, people, is that this whole thing is based on what the definition of marriage is...

My Mom told me that marriage was what happened when two people who loved each other decided that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.

Two people.  Not a man and a woman.  Just two people in love that want to be together.  That's all we're talking about.  Open up your hearts. 

My visit to Kari and Eric's house

Cuddlers of America, Unite!
 
Yesterday I woke up at 5:30 in the morning because of a loud cry from the nephew’s bedroom.  Josh was awake…and not happy about it.  Can’t say I particularly blamed him, I don’t like being awake as well.  Kari came out to the living room, where I was sleeping on the couch, and sent me off to her and Eric’s bed to sleep.  About 15 minutes later, Kari crawled into bed with me.  This simple act brought back memories of lying in bed with Mom and Kari and cuddling. 
 
One of the nice things about living with Jeff and Keem is that in two years, we’ve gone from being roommates to extended family.  When Jeff is on the computer in Keem’s room, we all seem to gravitate there.  He will surf the net and Keem and I will lie on the bed.  I have decided that Keem’s back makes a good pillow.  There’s nothing sexual about this, I think of Keem as another sister.  The three of us will chat about our days and it’s a great way to catch up on what is new.  Sometimes Eddy and Bob (the cats) will join us.
 
I think more people should cuddle.  I think our world would be a better place if we would just take the few minutes to climb onto a soft surface, put our arms around each other and just listen to one another’s heartbeat.  Maybe we would realize that our enemies are people just like us…
 
Just imagine what could happen if there wasn’t any more hate in this world.  I think John Lennon said it best in Imagine.
 
You may say I'm a dreamer,
But I'm not the only one,
I hope some day you will join us,
And the world will be as one.
 
 
Why I tried to smother my sister
 
Kari chose to use perfectly good cuddling time to inform (lecture) me of some things she had noticed.  Apparently, I snore.  Kari and Mom are convinced that I have sleep apnea and Kari and I covered the following topics:

1. I snore like my father did (very loud). 
2. This is not all I have inherited from my father. 
3. I also was lucky enough to get his hairy knuckles and toes (Gee, thanks, Dad). 
4. I also have his deformed pinkies (they curve inward) and can’t wear rings. 
5. However, I did get his love of reading and so I gladly accept the other traits. 
6. I need to go to the doctor. 
7. My shoulder hurts. 
8. If I were treated for sleep apnea, many of my other problems would go away.
    
   This is about when I put the pillow over her head to get her to stop talking. 
     
   Observations from the shower 

Kari and Eric’s water pressure sucks.

1. There is a large rubber duckie hanging from the wall.  I think it’s a bathtub for Josh.  This shower is not big enough for the two of us.  The duck must go. 
2. Kari has expensive tastes.  I am lathering my hair with Nioxin’s Scalp Cleanser.  It is tingly and tastes reminiscent of York’s Peppermint Patty (no, I did not mean to get it into my mouth).  It probably costs more than my shampoo and shower gel combined.
3. There isn’t any shower gel.
4. How can there not be shower gel? 
5. I cannot believe I am using Johnson’s Baby Bath as shower gel.
6. Hey, my skin feels really soft now.
7. God, this kid has a lot of toys.

Damn duck won’t hang back up on the wall. 
  
My sister Kari –  the seasoned world traveler
 
So yesterday, I ended up late for work.  Why?  Because my sister got lost.  Again.  (Why is it that both Kim and Beth ask if I gave her wrong directions?  That’s not right.)  Kari asked me if we should take the highway and I said no, let’s just the way we came yesterday.  It’s probably quicker.  We just pass Dellwood and she turns right instead of going around White Bear Lake to where 96 continues.
 
DM:  Where are you going?
K:  Does Country Road J go all the way through?
DM:  I don’t know.  This is not the way we went last night.
 
We hit Hugo and she turns on to J.  It does not go all the way through to work.  It becomes Bald Eagle Lake Road. 
 
DM:  Where is your cell phone?
K:  I guess it’s a good thing I brought it today (Digs it out of her purse).
DM:  (Growls while she dials work.)  Hi, Craig.  It’s Dana.
C:  Hi, Dana.  How are you?
DM:  Oh, I’m great but I’m lost.  My sister took the non-sanctioned route (Kari giggles) and I am now on Bald Eagle Lake Road which is circling what I assume is Bald Eagle Lake.  I’m going to be late.
C:  That’s okay.  I’ll see you when you get here.  (I put the phone back in Kari’s purse)
K:  Should we turn back or keep going?
DM:  Keep going.  I’m sure we’ll find something we recognize eventually.
K:  Ooh, County Road H2!  I’ll turn here.
DM:  (After a few minutes, I begin to recognize scenery.)  Oh!  I know where we are!  Keep going straight and then turn left at the stop sign.
K:  How do you know this?
DM:  Because this is where we were yesterday.
K:  Oh.  Are you sure?  Oh, wait, I remember that house.  You’re right.
DM:  Don’t be so surprised.

 I was only 22 minutes late.  This isn’t too bad, all things considered.  And at least Kari knows how to get to my work now.  Or, at least, a general idea of where it’s located.

Mixed emotions

Tonight I agreed to babysit the nephew. This is an activity met with great trepidation because babies and I, we don't mix well. Josh is adorable and everything but I don't get to see him that often and, at 9 1/2 months, he doesn't have a clue who I am. So I was scared.

Kari was supposed to pick me up from work at 6:30 and she is usually quite punctual so at 6:33, I was rushing outside to wait for her. Walked outside with Beth and then she ran off to pick up her lunch. And I waited, paging through a Scrapbook Etc. magazine. And then Beth was back and there was no Kari at 7:15. So I went back inside to find 3 messages waiting for me from Eric and Kari. Apparently Kari was lost. So I sat by my phone and waited some more.

At about 8:00, there's another phone call. This one is from Kari and she's downstairs at the guard's desk. The reservation is for 8:30. So we get in the car and Josh starts crying. Little tears at first, just observations that he is bored because he's been in the car forever. Kari orders me to sing.

You would think that with all the times I spend at karaoke, I would remember all the words to Change The World, right? No. Not a clue. And this kid, he knows when you start making stuff up. He appreciated Nobody but then started in with the criticism when I hit the chorus the 2nd time. Kari and I did the medley of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star/The Alphabet Song/I'm A Little Teapot. I tried Pink Houses, If You Could Read My Mind, This Diamond Ring, Mocking Bird. Nothing worked. At this point, he was sobbing pretty hard and Kari was frantically looking for a grocery store.

We found a Cub and Kari ran in, leaving me with the child. And the child screamed. And the child made a big noise. And I sang desperately, running through song after song. There was Jesus Loves Me and This Little Light Of Mine and Amazing Grace. There was The Star Spangled Banner. There was the weeping and gnashing of teeth (he has four now) when Kari ran out because she had left her wallet in the car.

But then the Mom returned and the nephew was pleased. And the child partook of an Arrowroot cookie. And the child had formula. And the child used the sippy cup the Mom bought in an act of desperation. And I got to sit in the back seat and make sure that the nephew did not choke on the cookies.

And then, something happened. The child smiled at me. And I was filled with love and adoration. The child babbled and said "Da da da" and "Lamoosneusza" which obviously is a sign that he is a genius. And I was filled with longing for a small child of my own. The nephew patted me on the arm and laughed at me. And I was moved by the welling of maternal instinct. And I was terrified. But fortunately, the child then started shaking the sippy cup all over and formula struck me in the face and I came to my senses. And I saw the lovely mixture of cookie and baby drool all over my arm.

Kari never made it to dinner. I fed the child a disgusting thing called Vegetable Beef baby food that was orange and frightening. And there was the wrestling for the bowl because Josh wanted to play with it more than he wanted to eat. And, I am ashamed to admit, he won the wrestling match briefly. And then I was smeared with orange goop.

We ordered pizza and I was left alone with the child for approximately 20 minutes while Kari picked it up. And the child did not explode, set himself on fire or cry excessively for the Mom. I feel quite pleased with myself. I'm still waiting for him to be six and reading Shakespeare but there are moments when I look at him and I think I understand why people become parents voluntarily. These small things, they're really kind of cute.

Previous comments

At 9:04 PM, DeAnn said...
I'm laughing because you think that he will be reading Shakespeare at 6!! I know many many kids, even brilliant ones, and none of them are big on Shakespeare at age 6. Just a warning.

At 10:58 PM, CarpeDM said...
What? He won't be reading Shakespeare? I am shocked and/or stunned by this. Did you not see where he said da da da and Lamoosneusza? This is sheer poetry. Well, if he's anything like I was, he'll be reading it in 4th grade. But hopefully he will get his mother's math skills.

But I can only wear one pair of shoes at a time - what's the point?

I have a confession to make.  I am fashion challenged.  I don't get Prada.  I don't have a clue to what the difference is between Vogue or Cosmo.  I think that models really need to just eat something.  I love my job and the fact that I can easily come to work every day wearing jeans and a t-shirt.  I am wearing, right now, brown sandals, a red t-shirt and blue leggings.  I know, deep inside somewhere, that this is terribly wrong but I just don't care.  I wear these shoes with everything.  They are perfect.  Do you know how hard it is to find a pair of flat, closed toe sandals?  Do you?  I refuse to bare my toes.  They are ugly and deformed and topped with toenails from hell. 
 
The most money I have ever paid for a pair of shoes was $40.  This is an obscene amount of money to pay for shoes.  Do you know how many books I could get for that money?  But I was desperate.  The pair of cheap cotton sandals lost a vital part of their sole at work one day and were causing me horrendous pain with every step I took.  I ended up making an emergency trip through the skyway to Daytons to check out their shoe department.  Imagine my horror when I discovered that every single pair of sandals they had were open toe.  And these were the only attractive pair I found.  Steve Madden, on sale for $40.  On sale.  Meaning that people actually sometimes paid more than $40.  I still can't comprehend this.  I still have them somewhere, two years later, and they still are in good condition.  I could easily wear them tomorrow.  I just won't.
 
Reasons why I will not wear my perfectly good pair of Steve Madden shoes:

1. I would need to paint my toenails.  I am nail polish challenged as well.
2. I have extremely ugly toenails that polish cannot cover completely.
3. The shoes make this highly annoying slapping sound whenever I walk. 
4. Because there is not a strap to keep the shoes on, I have a tendency to walk out of them.  And then I fall down. 

I will admit to paying $30 apiece for two pairs of Converse High Tops.  But they were cute (and cover my toenails) and doesn't everyone need a pair of hot pink high top shoes? 

Oh, I have a brown purse and a black coat.  Don't you just want to send the fashion police after me?

Yet another website full of fun

Dooce.  No clue how to pronounce it but my God, this woman is hilarious.  I have not the slightest clue where I found her, either from One Good Thing or Frog's Blog but I am ever so glad that I have.  If you have a completely irreverant sense of humor, you will enjoy this.

In other news, Beth and I have decided to start a joint blog about some of the customers we come across as we pursue our careers in the banking field.  It's called Out of the Mouths of Morons and will include conversations that we've been a part of, been told or overheard.  Not all of the stories will be banking related, we'll use this as a place to put some of the stuff we hear when we are out and about.  Hope you enjoy it.

True Friendship

After singing "I Don't Know Why" (Norah Jones) at karaoke, I said to Beth and Matt "I don't think that was completly sucky. Not that I would know because you guys would applaud if I stood up there naked and set myself on fire."

Beth responded with "We would not! We would run up there and throw water on you." She paused and then laughed. "Then we would applaud."

Beer Goggles, Part Two

To summarize our story so far, gentle reader, Beth and Dana are at karaoke. To sing and revel in all things karaoke by drinking refreshing beverages of pop. Beth is wearing a low-cut red t-shirt which apparently is like waving the proverbial red flag to a bull...in other words, the drunks are swarming. LR stands for Liverpool Rummy. GR stands for Gin Rummy. The first post is here.

To continue where I left off, we have continued our card game when a stocky and obviously drunk man throws himself onto the chair that Beth has placed her purse on. Fortunately, she manages to rescue it before he crushes it. "What are we playing?" he asks.

"LR," Beth sighs.

"GR?" Drunk Boy asks.

"No, LR."

"Deal me in," Drunk Boy demands. Beth and I exchange a glance. You know the glance, you've probably used it yourself before. It's the one that says "Oh, dear God, where are these people coming from? Why are they bothering us? Why don't I have a gun?" Drunk Boy emphatically slams his beer glass on the table. "Deal me in. We're playing here." Beth very politely tries to reason with Drunk Boy. She explains that we're in the middle of a game but he will hear none of that. Finally Beth and I exchange another glance, the "let's humor him and maybe he will go away."

Beth deals the cards and tells us we'll go for 2 sets of 3, rightly assuming that Drunk Boy doesn't have a clue how to play LR and thinks we are actually playing GR, even though we have explained that we're playing LR. But we're women and what do we know, right? He's a manly man and he's there to prove that he knows ever so much more than us (yes, I'm being sarcastic. What gave it away?). I'm not going to go into detail about how to play LR. The simplest explanation is that it's very similar to Phase 10. And no one knows how to play it, let alone has ever heard of it.

Drunk Boy introduces himself as Jordan. Beth and I introduce ourselves. And now, it's time for the question. That ever important question. Jordan asks Beth if she is single. However, she hears him say "Are you singing?" She replies with "Yes." He then asks me if I am single. Oddly enough, I actually hear him correctly (oddly because I rarely ever hear anything correctly) and say "No." This is when Beth realizes she has made a vital mistake.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you asked if I was singing. Did you ask if I was single?" Jordan replies in the affirmative. "I'm sorry. No, I'm not single."

"That's too bad," Jordan says. "I wanted to fix one of you up with my friend, Chris." He then gets up and leaves for a minute.

Beth turns to me and says quickly "If anyone asks, Matt is my boyfriend." I nod. I understand. Jordan soon returns and the hilarity continues...hilarious if you enjoy trying to explain the rules to LR to a drunk man and then watching him completely screw up the game, while he subtly flirts with you. Here's an example. After Jordan tells us that he's gone out (because, remember, he's a manly man and knows that we're actually playing GR, even though we think we're playing LR), Beth explains to him that he's wrong. He has several jokers and deuces in his hand and she explains that those are wild cards. A few minutes later, Jordan says to Beth (and I quote because let's face it, I couldn't make this stuff up) "Jokers and deuces are wild, like you, right?" Beth laughs in his face subtly. He doesn't realize it.

In order to reinforce the fiction that Beth and I are not sex-crazed single nymphs, I start a conversation with Beth about whether or not Matt will be joining us for karaoke and how Beth and Matt have been together for 3 years. Beth tells me he is going to try to make it. I then mention how much I miss my boyfriend and try to think desperately of a name. I know! Randall after Stephen King's Randall Flagg because hey, if you're going to invent a boyfriend, why not a powerful one like the devil? Gosh, Randall and I have been together for six months.

Beth runs outside to make a quick phone call to Matt. Apparently her conversation went something like this.

Scott, Matt's boyfriend, answers the phone.

Beth says to him "Please, for the love of God, please will one of you come up here and be my boyfriend? I wore the wrong shirt and all the drunks are hitting on me."

Scott says "I don't know if I can pull that off. Matt! You're going to karaoke." So at least Beth's fake boyfriend will be played by a bald Italian stud...I'm still stuck with the devil and he doesn't seem to be manifesting. Story of my life.

Bryan has shown up and has been informed about Beth and my new romantic status. He is agreeable to the deception. This is yet another thing that is great about Bryan...he's very laid back. Since karaoke is starting, we put the cards away. Jordan wants to know why. Beth explains that we're here for karaoke. There aren't a lot of people here tonight so fortunately, Beth and I will be singing a lot...less time to spend with Jordan.

Shortly after, the friend, Chris, who Beth and I have now lost out on the joy of being set up with, shows up at our table. Oh, joy. Jordan keeps leaving to flirt with three women in the back and Chris makes conversation with Beth and I, even though we are pretty obviously watching the other people singing. He informs us that Jordan and he know all about us now. They talked to the pull tab lady who explained we come here for karaoke and all we do is sing and drink our pop. You would think they would get the hint, right? No. Because, as the following conversations will show you, Jordan and Chris are not brain surgeons. In fact, I'm not sure they have brains.

Conversations with Chris:
Chris (To Beth): How old are you?
Beth: I'm 25.
Chris: You are? (Beth thinks "What? 25's not that old.")

Chris (To Beth, 2nd time): How old are you?
Beth: I'm 25.
Chris: Only? (Beth now thinks "Now I don't look 25?"

Chris (To Beth, 3rd time): How old are you?
Beth: I'm 25.
Chris: Oh, yeah. I'm 27. (A minute passes.) Guess how old I am.
Beth: 27.
Chris: Oh. You're drinking pop so you can remember. (Grabs onto beer glass and starts sloshing it around. Beer starts splashing onto the table.) I'm not drunk or anything. I'm not spilling my beer.

Chris (to me): How old are you?
Me: I'm 37.
Chris: No, you're not.
Me: Yes, I am.
Chris: No. You can't be.
Me: Well, I am.
Chris: You don't look 37.
Me: Thank you.
Chris: Are you sure?
Me: Yes.
Chris: You can't be.
Me: I am.

Chris (to Beth): Do you have kids?
Beth: No.
Chris (to me): Do you have kids?
Me: No, thankfully.
Chris: Why not? You need to have a kid.
Me (Rises up from the table and bludgeons him to death. Okay, no I didn't. I managed to restrain myself but read this if you want to know why this drives me crazy when random strangers tell me I should have a kid): I don't want one.
Chris: Oh, it's different when you have your own. I have a kid.
Me: That's nice.
Chris: You should have a kid.
Me: No. (Why is it you can never think of the perfect response until the next day. I came up with "Why? Are you offering to impregnate me?" Beth thought I could say "Hey, Beth, can I have the keys to your car? Chris is going to knock me up.")

Conversation with Jordan and Chris while Beth was singing:
Jordan: We're sitting at the table with the hot chicks (Okay, if you look at my profile picture, you can imagine that I'm rarely called a hot chick. I recognize this as a ploy. I'm not stupid. Calling me a hot chick does not make me want to sleep with you. Or encourage Beth to sleep with you. Jackass). She (to Chris, indicating me) likes me better than you. She said you were ugly.
Me: Uh, no, I didn't.
Chris (to Jordan): She did? (to me) You think I'm ugly?
Jordan (to Chris): Yeah, she thinks you're mother-f*ckin' ugly. She told me.
Me: Well, apparently drinking has made you psychic as well.

Conversation with Jordan and Chris while someone else was singing:
Jordan (coming back to the table): I hate fat chicks (I just look at him. What am I going to say? I hate drunks? Why stoop to his level)! Will you go show them (the three women in the back) what a real hot chick looks like? Go flaunt your stuff?
Me: No (because hello, I outweigh each one of these women).
Chris: I can show them what some real boobs look like (He proceeds to smash every ounce of fat and muscle on his chest together to form fake boobs. This is so attractive. Beth and I are consumed with lust).

Sadly, Jordan was soon kicked out of the bar for annoying the three women in the back. Beth and I were distraught. Chris did apologize to me for Jordan but, as I told him, I don't judge people by their friends. He seemed like a nice enough guy, just drunk and traveling with his very own jackass.

That's pretty much it. Beth has decided that she's going to burn the red shirt...or at least, never wear it to a bar again. Matt did make it, about five minutes after Jordan and Chris left. We did have a good time, got to sing a lot and, most importantly, I got good blogging material. And hey, I found out that, apparently, I'm a hot chick. I'm so thrilled.

Beer Goggles

On Sunday, Beth and I made our pilgrimage to the House of Bryan (The Chalet in Roseville). Here is our tale of karaoke, cards and random (fictional) boyfriends.

Beth and I arrived at karaoke early tonight. To pass the time until karaoke started (our only reason for stepping foot into a bar), we started playing cards.

A fairly attractive gentleman (okay, I could only see him from behind so I have no real clue how he looked. Apparently, he did have a bit of a gap between his front teeth. All I saw was tall, dark hair, fairly nice rear) approaches Beth. "Hi," he addresses her breasts. "What are you playing?" Now, granted, Beth is very pretty, is wearing a low cut red t-shirt and does (I am speaking only as a straight woman (who sags)) have a nice rack. But still, this is no reason to stare at her chest for the duration of the conversation.

"Liverpool Rummy (LR for the remainder of this post)," Beth says politely, trying to meet his eyes (which is difficult, since they have popped out of his sockets and are now buried in her cleavage).

"Gin Rummy (GR for the remainder, yeah, you understand)?" Cleavage Boy says.

"No, LR." This confuses him. He decides to change the subject.

"My name is Joe."

"I'm Beth." He shakes her hand. Now, there is a rule in bar (and attempted bar) pickups. If you are trying to establish yourself as a kind, sensitive man worthy of a one-night stand, you should acknowledge the dumpy friend of the hot redhead you're hoping to screw. He partially turns to me and I introduce myself, knowing full well he will forget my name in two seconds.

"That's my friend, Doris." He points to a blonde waiting by the bar, establishing that he can't be all that bad because he has a female friend. He then turns to Beth again. "Will you sing a song with me later?"

"Maybe," Beth tells him. "What song?"

"Summer Nights or Picture?" Beth laughs and looks at me because she knows how I feel about Picture (and you can too if you click on this link). "Sure," she says. "I'll think about it."

"Well, you don't have to be scared." Beth is puzzled by this remarks and repeats that she'll think about it again. Joe agrees to come over later, once karaoke has started.

A few minutes later, Doris comes over and pulls up a chair. "Hi. What are you playing?"

"LR," Beth replies.

"Oh." Doris has no clue what this is but she quickly moves to her objective. "My buddy really likes you," she says to Beth. "Would you go out with him?"

I have to hand it to Beth. Instead of laughing hysterically at the thought of dating someone who obviously will never acknowledge her as anything but a nice set of jugs, she instead politely says "Well, I don't know him."

Doris laughs giddily. "This is just like high school, isn't it? I told him it was just like high school." Then she moves in for the kill, that all important question. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Yes," Beth lies.

"Oh. Okay." Doris retreats to her friend to break the news to him. He is obviously dejected because they leave shortly.

Beth and I return to our card game. But the power of Beth's breasts is strong and so another male breaks from the pack of drunken wildebeests populating the bar.

To be continued, I have to go back to work.

What's going on in my mind tonight?

Tonight I am looking over the city, listening to the radio, and feeling, I don't know, lonely, I guess is the right word.

I'm not sure why. I have great friends and tomorrow I'm going to karaoke with Beth, that is always fun. Monday we're going to go to a movie, not sure what yet. A Dodgeball/Spiderman 2 double feature would be fun.

Every once in awhile, I feel like there's something missing in my life. What could it be? I'm reasonably happy. I love my friends, my cat (even though he likes Keem better than me), my family, the adorable nephew who terrifies me...things are good, right?

Keem and I watched Working Girl and Galaxy Quest tonight. Maybe that's it. Both of them have that big romantic moment where the hero grabs the heroine and they have the big kiss and you know that everything's going to be okay.

Maybe I'm wondering where my hero is, where is my big kiss?

Maybe tomorrow I should watch something non-romantic and I will settle back into my celibate forever life and not worry about the occasional twinge.

Maybe I should go back to the doctor and get my prescription for effexor refilled so I get back on an even keel again. That's probably better, huh?

Anyway, soon I will go off to bed, hug Hippo to my clogged up chest and dream of Prince Charming...who will probably turn into Randall Flagg because I'm thinking of reading The Stand again.

Why I should not read Stephen King

I have a bit of an overactive imagination. I know, those of you who know me are me are nodding your heads furiously because you have all been recipients of what my mind can come up with.

Anyway, I live on the 26th floor of an apartment building in downtown Saint Paul. This morning, when I woke up at 3:30 for the second day in a row, I was a little puzzled as to why Saint Paul had dissappeared. Then I realized that the reason why I couldn't see any other buildings was because of the very thick fog that had rolled off the river. The only thing I could see was tiny little pinpricks of light about a block or two away (street lights).

It's a weird feeling looking over the city at 3:30 in the morning on a normal day, there aren't many cars on the street and you feel like you're one of the few people in the world. But when the fog is out, well, then I start remembering "The Mist" by Stephen King. It is extremely distracting to play Alchemy when you keep expecting mutant bird creatures to splat against the window.

Last weekend, as I was moaning about being sick still, Beth made the comment "Well, it's a good thing you're not reading 'The Stand.'" This is because every single time I read "The Stand," I get sick. You know, it's only a matter of time before some idiot spills one of the jars of chemical warfare. This book could happen. At least that's what I keep saying to myself when I'm comparing my symptoms to everyone in the book.

Then there was the time I was working at a gas station and the pump bell started ringing. When that happened, you were supposed to look outside, write down the license plate number if you could see it and give the general idea that you were paying attention. This was supposed to keep people from driving off without paying for their gas. Of course, they didn't tell us how we were supposed to do this and wait on a line of people at the same time.

Anyway, I glance over, figuring I may not be able to write the plate number down but at least I'll give the potential thief the impression that I'm paying attention to them. And what should be standing outside, pumping gas, causing me to gasp outloud? It was a clown. Okay, so you're thinking not such a big deal, right? It was to me.

My voice tremoring, I turn to the long line of people waiting for me to ring their purchases up. "Does anyone else see a clown out there?"

Yes, you can imagine the glances I got. Most of my regulars were wondering if my mind had slipped yet another notch down the crazy stick. They all chorused "Yes."

"Oh, thank God," I said. "I just finished reading Stephen King's 'It.' and I was a little worried." I am not kidding. Every single one of them turned, looked outside again and then all said "Ohhhh." They understood.

Stephen King is dangerous to those us with the overactive imagination. There's a reason why I don't watch Stephen King movies. If I'm reading the book, I can formulate my own picture of the monster and it's usually fairly benign. If you watch the movie, though, you have to see the face that Hollywood has placed on the monster and that's the image that gets stuck in my head.

Case in point, saw "Pet Sematary." You know the scene where the wife is confronted with the vision of her sister, the one who died of spinal menangitis, coming after her. I swear to you that shortly after I saw this movie, my mom sent me into the basement to get the laundry and I heard someone call my name. I turned and there was this crinkly, scary woman from the movie standing there. I ran screaming upstairs and told Mom I would never go into the basement again. I kept that promise for a good five years too.

Yes, I know there wasn't really anyone there. It doesn't matter. Stephen King freaks me out. Hmm, maybe it's time to read "The Stand" again.

Why I should not read Stephen king

At 8:14 PM, Anonymous said...
Your nuts, Donovan.

At 11:24 PM, CarpeDM said...
Please, Donovan, like you couldn't figure that one out.

At 12:15 AM, The Lioness said...
If I saw a clown pumping gas I wouldn't be half as calm, I can assure you. Clowns have NO rigth to exist, they are the scariest things ever devised. BH!

Parent and Non-Parent living in harmony

Okay, after publishing my most recent post, I have thought about what I said and must clarify. Mainly because I'm worried some of the people I work with will come after me with tar and feathers.

I don't want to have children. However, this does not mean I don't believe you (whoever you might be) should not have children. I know lots of parents who are quite good at being a parents. I'm just not a parent type person myself.

My friend Matt has children and I adore them, from a safe distance. My sister has a small child and I think he is simply wonderful, if only he would stop screaming every time I come near him. Eric, the brother-in-law, says that babies can sense your fear. I'm beginning to think that might be true.

So, parents of the world, I respect you and think you're great, I just don't want to join your ranks. Meanwhile, I will continue to read blogs about the trials and tribulations (and yes, the joys and jubilations) about raising small children. I will laugh and cry and marvel at the physical and emotional strength these people have. And I won't judge you for wanting to have kids. Just like I would hope you would not judge me for not wanting to have them myself.

Am I a disgrace to womanhood because I don't want a baby?

You may hear people refer to themselves as not a cat person or not a dog person. I'm not a child person. I don't like small children. They're messy, throw up, have disgusting diapers and you have to constantly follow them around to make sure they keep out of trouble. Give me a cat any day, a lot less maintenance.

Don't get me wrong; kids are okay, as long as they keep their distance. I adore my nephew (the most adorable child in the universe (and no, I am not biased)) and love spending time with him. I just don't want a child of my own. My biological clock is not ticking and is probably broken. I'm not financially (or emotionally) secure enough to bring a child into this world and I think there are enough children that don't have homes that if I ever found myself wanting a child, I could adopt.

Now, you would think, wouldn't you, that with the population exploding the way it is, I would be admired for saying this, right? Well, you'd be wrong. For some reason, whenever the topic of children has come when I am surrounded by a group of women, the fact that I don't want to physically bear children seems to be akin with admitting that in my spare time I like to bludgeon small furry animals to death.

Take the following conversation:

Group of women, all of whom have or are planning on having children, and myself are talking at work, in between calls at the Bank of DM. The topic of babies comes up. There is much oohing and ahhing about how wonderful children are and how everyone should have a small child.

DM (naively stating, hoping this time her opinion will be valued): "I don't want to have children."

Future Mother: "You don't? How can you not want to have children? Everyone should have children."

DM: "I don't like babies (see above reason why)." Gasps of horror abound. "What? I don't."

Mother of 3: "Oh, DM, it's different when you have your own. I used to feel the same way and then I popped out 3 annoying little rugrats and my whole brain exploded (okay, she probably didn't say that but hey, it's my blog)."

Future Mother: "Every woman should have a child. You're just not ready. Someday you'll realize you want to have babies."

DM (ticked off, especially when she considers how many children are abused by their parents daily): "I don't agree with you. I don't think I will ever be ready to have a baby. I've already decided that if I ever get financially secure enough, I will adopt an older child, one who may not have a chance to get adopted otherwise."

Future Mother: "Well, you can still have a baby."

DM: "But I don't want a baby. I would think that the fact that I realize I don't have the temperament to properly care for a baby would be a good thing. Why take the chance that I might be one of those women that can't handle it and then abandons her baby?"

Future Mother: "That's horrid. You wouldn't do that."

DM: "I don't know that. No one knows that. No one wakes up and says 'Hmm, when I have a baby, I'll abandon them.' I'm just saying I don't think I could handle a baby on a full time basis."

Wise Grandmother: "DM, if you don't feel you could handle a baby, don't have one."

DM: "Thank you." Yes! Finally someone understands!

The following day, I walk into work, I address the same group of and tell them the following story:

DM: "Last night I went home. One of my cats ran out into the hallway like he always does. Since I was in a hurry to answer the phone, I figured he would be okay in the hallway for a few minutes." The women look at me strangely, trying to figure out why I am telling them this. I continue. "This morning, when I was getting ready, I hear this loud meowing coming from the hallway. I realize that I never let Eddy back into the apartment last night. I left my cat outside all night. And you think I should have a child?"

Wise Grandmother: "Don't have children, DM."

Future Mother: "Well, that's just a cat. You wouldn't do that with a baby."

This conversation took place 3 years ago. Eddy is fine and well, still trying to run into the hallway (and yes, I have forgotten him again, fortunately the neighbor knocked on the door (but it was only 2 times in six years)). I still do not want babies of my own but I adore my nephew. I still think I may adopt someday but if I did, I would definitely want an older child, maybe 15 or 16.

So do you think it's wrong that I don't want my own child?

Previous comments

At 12:39 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...
I only wish more people didn't want children. There are far too many of them. And it's not just women, either... I've heard about men who go around purposely trying to impregnate their girlfriends ('losing' the rubber, etc) so they can have some more.

And those people are completely irrational. They can't think of anything more important in the world than to survive and reproduce, as if they were ibexes on the veldt. Such people have said the same thing to me... ME, a big old queen... that I would feel different once I had some (not IF, mind you, but WHEN), as if it were inevitable that one day I would suddenly be struck by the urge to reproduce biologically, and would start blindly groping about trying to stick my seed into some poor woman in order to keep my bloodline going. Eew.

But fear not, DM, you are not alone. I know of three other women right off the top of my head who don't want to reproduce, not now, not ever (of course, I also know a handful who keep spitting out babies they don't like and can't afford as if it were something they couldn't control). Sometimes they get that old biological urge, that weird melty feeling you get when you hold a baby, but they ignore it the same way we ignore the urge to kill things that get in our way. Ignoring our biological urges is what makes us human, you know?

I have found a new blog!

Okay, Frog and Flea found it first but still...I'm pretty excited. The only problem is, with the bronchitis, that I read, I laugh hysterically, I cough up a lung, I catch my breath and start the whole cycle over again.

Maybe I should wait to read Finslippy until I can breathe without making the lovely wheezing sound? Until my ribs don't ache from the coughing? Until I can stop whining to Keem about how I'm dying?

No, why deprive myself of this much fun. I've got four days off to recuperate. Go check her out. She's hilarious. Read Frog and Flea's blogs as well. I have spoken.

Driving with Ms. Dana

Another driving story from my past.

Every now and then, Eric (the brother-in-law) will allow me to drive, ignoring the fact that I am without permit or license. He is a brave, brave man and very patient. I am quite fond of him. Here is a transcript of our most recent journey together (about two years ago).

Eric: I am going to the store. Do you want to come with?

DM: Sure. Can I drive?

Eric (looking around to make sure Kari can't hear): Sure.

DM manages to back out of the driveway without crushing trees or car. Starts up the hill and sees, oh the horror, a car approaching on the other side of the road. She, to put it mildly, freaks out.

DM: Oh my God! What do I do?

Eric (calmly): Stay on your side.

DM (after car passes): Okay. I can do this. (Looks at speedometer) Too fast! Too fast!

Eric (laughing): Dana, you're going five miles an hour. You can speed up a little.

I did eventually learn to press the gas pedal a little more and actually got up to 15 miles an hour on that trip. It was cut short after we reached the store and Eric realized I am terrified of parking (any kind, not just parallel) and he had to park for me.

I am a coward when it comes to driving. However, I do like to ride fast.

Last Comic Standing Update - Oh, how the mighty have fallen

Okay, so I might be dying of the plague but I'm not going to miss LCS for anything. Here's what happened.

Ant, being altruistic (snort of laughter), presented Jay London with the photoshoot Ant had won the previous week. Jay accepted gracefully and then Ant reveals his plan was to get Jay to vote the same way that his alliance. Duh. Like we couldn't figure that out.

The LCS household had to give a roast, the roastee chosen was Jay London. I don't like roasts, I find that they're an excuse to be really mean about someone and use humor as an excuse. I found that Alonzo Bodden was the most eloquent and nicest of the roasters and was glad that he won. John Heffron was probably the next best.

However, there was a catch. Since Jay London was the one they chose to roast, he won immunity. Alonzo wasn't pleased by this and I can't say I blame him but hey, it's a game, right? You know they're going to throw things in to be tricky.

Anyway, long story short (too late), Gary Gulman and Ant went head to head. Both were very funny but Gary won by 70(?)%. I was sorry to see Ant go, I am fond of him. He did make a comment about everyone seeing him as the head of the alliance but he was just a puppet and someone else was pulling his strings. Hmm, I wonder who the puppet master could be? Looking forward to next week.

I am sick of being sick

I have been struck with the plague.

Well, okay, it's just bronchitis but still...I hate this. I am not good with illness. I am convinced that I am dying but Keem says no. She seems to be getting a little cranky as well, apparently I've said this a lot in the last few days.

I am back to work today after two days at home sick. I want to crawl under my desk and sleep. But fortunately, I just have to get through today and I have four days off in which I will sleep (hopefully).

Anyway, I'm back, sort of. I missed you all.

Previous comments

At 12:56 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...
I'm sick of being sick, too! Though your bronchitis trumps my head-cold-with-allergies. But seriously, why hasn't anybody cured this crap yet? We were promised a better future than this! I want my Common Cold Cure, I want my Hovercar, I want my World Peace, goddammit!Feel better, DM!

Ways that my little blog is being reaching by the adoring public

Hmm. So, apparently Tammy Pescatelli (Last Comic Standing) has a lot of fans. Apparently, these fans want to see her barefoot or naked or, the oddest one, playing football.

I know. I'm confused as well.

I have also been found by someone wanting to know about Tobey Macquire and someone looking for a big hippo from Kaybee Toys.

Pretty much Tammy's winning the hit list...And, just in case she doesn't win LCS, hey, she could always get a job playing football.

Googlism - Thanks to frog

Have I mentioned how much I love reading other blogs? I keep finding fun things to post. If you go to Googlism, it will come up with a list for you as well. It was a lot of fun. Try it. It's almost like poetry.

This is what Google thinks of me (edited list)

Googlism for: dana

dana is environmentally friendly
dana is back
dana is very aware when the camera is turned on her
dana is the best
dana is a queen of song
dana is coming to toronto
dana is right on
dana is available
dana is "recharged"
dana is the practice of developing the qualities of generosity
dana is translated from the pali language as giving
dana is approximately 71
dana is just amazing
dana is growing in every way imaginable
dana is determined to be in the forefront
dana is a fantastic partner and a really beautiful person
dana is stuck alone
dana is a queen of song concert
dana is well
dana is frequently thanked by audience members for making them roar with laughter without the use of four
dana is a wonderful student to have in class
dana is sexy part ii
dana is a golden
dana is one of those 12
dana is the president of the collegiate cattlemen’s club
dana is a very typical teenager
dana is enthusiastic
dana is closed on mondays
dana is a black belt in karate
dana is open from 9
dana is truly the reason we all want to swing dance
dana is looking at the long
dana is their m 'd' cup girl of the month
dana is a special holiday base particularly suitable for those on a path of personal or spiritual development
dana is gewoon zwaar coolish
dana is leaning toward me now
dana is a pali word meaning gift or generosity
dana is the 179th most popular female first name in the united states; frequency is 0
dana is what i came to see
dana is co
dana is my ex
dana is fast becoming a familiar face
dana is shown here after winning the 75 lap modified feature
dana is an example of peace
dana is from a family named funk
dana is famous for her daily fresh breads
dana is about a 2 hours drive south of amman
dana is based on gratitude and giving
dana is done with the pistons

This is what Google thinks of DM
Googlism for: dm

dm is going strong
dm is too easy
dm is back up
dm is always right
dm is still the best rpg ever
dm is trying to kill us
dm is war live from detroit michigan
dm is war
dm is suitable for hostile environments
dm is born
dm is all on one puter
dm is at the rams
dm is dead
dm is not ia
dm is back up i could
dm is ready
dm is a lazy guy
dm is too hard
dm is war rocky
dm is open to the public and admission is free
dm is like apples and oranges
dm is retested in lab
dm is a thin ring
dm is a phenomenal guitar
dm is allowed a wide variety of latitude in creating the "world" in which the game takes place
dm is relevant to all manufactured goods
dm is quite possibly safer than document
dm is designed to meet diverse requirements
dm is a unique disease affecting one to three percent of german shepherds
dm is indicated for the temporary relief of coughs caused by minor throat and bronchial irritation such as may occur with allergy
dm is significant for two reasons
dm is trying to annoy you so you'll go away and shut up
dm is a memory resident
dm is a good way of hinting at
dm is a healthcare
dm is a perfect fit for e
dm is version 1
dm is easy
dm is a terribly primitive model of physics that is not only far from complete; it is at a stage of development where it is obviously wrong in many ways
dm is not always the most appropriate person to attend some of the regional meetings
dm is een heel ernstige ziekte met soms dodelijke afloop

I like this song. Superman has the right to have a dark side.

For some reason, my friends choose to refer to this as the "whiny" song (there have been other words but this is a G-rated post). I happen to really like it. That might be because I appreciate that Superman had a tough job fighting criminals day and night and he couldn't be with Lois Lane. He wasn't my favorite superhero by any means. When I was 5, I had a tremendous crush on Aquaman. When I grew up, I really had it bad for Batman (but only played by Adam West). So this song makes Superman seem a little less perfect to me. Is that so bad?

Superman (It ain't easy) - Five for Fighting

I can’t stand to fly
I’m not that naive
I’m just out to find
The better part of me
I’m more than a bird...I’m more than a plane
More than some pretty face beside a train
It’s not easy to be me

I Wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
About a home I’ll never see

It may sound absurd...but don’t be naive
Even Heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed...but won’t you concede
Even Heroes have the right to dream
It’s not easy to be me

Up, up and away...away from me
It’s all right...You can all sleep sound tonight
I’m not crazy...or anything…

I can’t stand to fly
I’m not that naive
Men weren’t meant to ride
With clouds between their knees

I’m only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me

It’s not easy to be me.

Previous Comments

At 8:36 PM, brooksba said...
It's not whiny? That's what you think? Maybe you should listen to the masses and realize that 5 for Fighting is about as close to Dave Matthews Band for poor quality songwriting as you can get. Let's face it. The band got popular for writing a song about how horrible it is to be the Man of Steel. Now, Superman might have some problems, but we all do and that's not something to whine about. He's supposed to be superhero, helping everyone and setting an example. What example does this song set? That it is okay to moan and complain all the time when things don't go your way. Things don't go your way all the time. At least he can fly.

Hanging out with Beth

So Keem has abandoned me again to go home to La Crosse. Her family is having a reunion. Fortunately though, I have Beth to do fun stuff with. She is still in the process of moving, just the unpacking part where you try to figure out where everything is going to go that is kind of fun.

Last night we went to Joe DiMaggio's in Fridley. I'd never been there before and I was pleased. We definitely ordered way too much food or the portions there are just much larger than what I'm used to getting. The soup, 7 bean and ham, was excellent. I liked the cheesy garlic breadsticks. I don't know how my turkey club was because by the time that got to the table, I was full. Maybe it'll be a nice snack later on today.

Then we decided to go and see a movie. The Terminal was playing at Wynnsong. If you haven't seen it yet, I recommend it highly. Tom Hanks was wonderful, I have never seen Catherine Zeta-Jones look so vulnerable and real and then, there was my beloved Stanley Tucci (yes, I have many beloveds. No, I am not fickle. I love them equally and I'm sure they understand I can't just be held to one favorite actor). What can you say about Stanley Tucci? The man is a genius at the comic meltdown, where his character just explodes with insanity. See The Imposters and Big Trouble for some classic moments of Tucci hilarity.

After that, it was off to Cub to go grocery shopping. Beth doesn't go grocery shopping that often, apparently. After being there with her, I now know what Keem goes through when we go to the grocery store (Although I think Beth is a lot more bouncy than I am).

When we got back to Beth's, we watched The Royal Tannenbaums. Now, I did fall asleep a couple of times throughout the movie (this is not an indication that the movie's bad or anything. I had been up since 6:30 AM and was trying to function on Bethtime), and I'm hoping that's why I'm horribly, horribly confused by this movie. It was very strange.

Oh, please, like we didn't already know this.

What Finding Nemo Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Thanks again to frog. Keem and I saw this movie four or five times in the theater. The interaction between Marlin and Dory was pretty much what Keem and I go through on a daily basis. Poor Keem. She puts up with a lot from me.

You know the scene where they're coming into Australia and there's all the fish and then you see the whale? I wave at the whale. Every single time I see the movie. Just a casual "hello" that I'm not even aware that I'm doing. Yes. I am a dork.

Everyone has the right to get married.

Marriage is love.

I support love. I support gay marriage. I support my friends.

Thanks to frog who found this via Dinah. Hmm, a new blog to read.

Well, now I'm going to have to read it

You're Ulysses!
by James Joyce
Most people are convinced that you don't make any sense, but compared to what else you could say, what you're saying now makes tons of sense. What people do understand about you is your vulgarity, which has convinced people that you are at once
brilliant and repugnant. Meanwhile you are content to wander around aimlessly, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. What you see is vast, almost limitless, and brings you additional fame. When no one is looking, you dream of being a Greek folk hero.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

found on Frog's blog - I'm reading through the archives. Thanks to Flea's blog.