If fear of something is a phobia, what do you call a fear of fear itself?

You may remember my writing this post, about my fear of vampires. Well, it’s not just vampires that I’m afraid of. Vampires, are, of course, fictional (or so we’ve been told) and it is irrational for me to be worried about running into them, especially in my freezer. However, I’m definitely not known for rational thought. Besides, http://www.dictionary.com/ describes phobia as “An intense, abnormal, or illogical fear of a specified thing.”

Now, I have searched through http://www.google.com/ and http://www.ask.com/ avidly, looking for a list of phobias that will include a fear of vampires and give me the name. Can I find it? Of course not. I was able to find a phobia list that did give me the names of my other, more oh; shall we say normal, fears?

I am afraid of the following things:

Heights. Elevators. Spiral Staircases. Escalators.

On the phobia list, I found a listing for Acrophobia - Fear of heights

And you know what? The stupid phobia list doesn’t give the name for any other of my fears. There’s a stupid fear of flutes (Aulophobia) and fear of books (Bibliophobia) which is, in my opinion, the dumbest phobia in the world because books are our friends but my fears aren’t there. Dumb list. Fine. I can deal with this. Well, we’ll adjust. Part of my charm is my ability to be open to new ideas and/or make up things to fit what I want.

Bogyphobia (fear of bogeys or the bogeyman) for fear of vampires.

Climacophobia (Fear of stairs, climbing or of falling downstairs) for my fear of spiral staircases. And I guess that would work for fear of elevators and escalators as well because I am convinced that I will tumble down the escalator

Okay, anyway, the reason I’m telling you about my phobias is because I was reminded about a time that these phobias almost led me to commit homicide.

Let’s go back in time. Back to the 1980’s where hair was big, rainbow shirts and leg warmers were popular (what were we thinking?) and bands consisted of men with long hair, tight spandex outfits and makeup (well, maybe it was just the hair bands (Poison comes to mind)). If I knew how to make my scanner work, I would scan my high school year book picture for you. My hair, fortunately, was not big but this was mainly because I have always been curling iron challenged and was lucky enough to get my hair to feather. Growing it in volume to staggering heights above my head was an impossibility.

During the 80’s, I was in a lot of plays and the choirs at both my high school and my church. Quite honestly, I loved this. I have always enjoyed acting and singing. Someday I will have to do some posts about some of the mishaps that took place during the plays at the church. Something always managed to go wrong, usually resulting in hilarity.

Yes, yes, I can hear you saying “Dana, what does this have to do with phobia related attempted homicide?” Or maybe you are saying “Oh, that DM, she is rambling again. What a freak.”

So, I let you know that our story takes place on a field trip that the choir director at my church thought would be important for us to take so that we could get some culture. Phil (this may actually be his real name. I can’t remember) informed us that we would be going on a trip to Rochester, MN. This was very exciting to me because my father, well aware of my gullibility, had told me that the first two years of my life had been spent on a farm outside of Rochester in a small town named Danesville (true) and this small town had been named after me because they were so happy to have me living there (not true). By this time, I had figured out that Dad was not telling the truth about the town’s name but it was cool knowing that I was going to be traveling to a part of my past.

On the day of the trip, we all met at the church and quickly boarded the bus. It was about 2 hours to Rochester so we had to leave early. The bus ride passed the only way a bus ride filled with church choir teenagers can possibly pass, we sang annoying songs to drive Phil crazy but in perfect harmony.

During our trip, we were going to pay a visit to the Mayo Clinic and sing for sick children. We were also going to visit the Bell Tower at the Mayo Clinic. Obviously I hadn’t been paying attention when the trip was being discussed because it would have dawned on me that tower typically (or at least according to http://www.dictionary.com/) means “A building or part of a building that is exceptionally high in proportion to its width and length.”

So we go and sing for the sick children and it is very nice. I vaguely remember holding a bunny puppet while we sang “Little Bunny Foo-Foo.” I’m not sure why we chose that song. Maybe there had been a request. We wander around the tunnels under the Mayo Clinic and it is fun. I remember waving at a security camera and hearing a disembodied voice say “Yes, I can see you” and giggling with my friends as we hurried off.

Then the time came for one of the most horrible experiences I had ever had in my life. This was so traumatic that sometimes I get freaked out just remembering what happened.

The group (about 30 students) walks into the lobby of the Bell Tower building. It is here that I learn that we are visiting the actual top floor. The building is 20 stories high. This is not good.

What makes this not good is we are greeted by a tour guide who motions to the wall of elevators and suggests that we board said elevators.

Anyway, I, with a slight note of panic in my voice, ask if I can take the stairs. I was in much better shape at the time and this was before my knees got so bad that I have learned to deal with my fear of elevators rather than walk more than a flight of stairs (plus, I live on the 26th floor. I have to get used to elevators). The tour guide laughed patronizingly. “Oh, no,” she says. “We have to take the elevators up 18 floors.”

I start to hyperventilate a tad. I am freaked out. 18 floors in an elevator? No way! Couldn’t I stay on the bus? But Phil was adamant that I not miss out on this great opportunity to visit the Bell Tower. If I would have known Portuguese at the time, the word I would have been saying other my breath would have been “Sacana!”

I get on the elevator. I bite my nails. I am shaking as I watch the floor indicator move up slowly. Does anyone remember how riding an elevator would make your stomach drop? One of the reasons I have less problems with elevators now is that feeling doesn’t happen anymore but back then, I almost threw up from the feeling.

Finally, finally, the doors open. I walk out, praising Jesus. And then I see it. The torture that they expect me to deal with now.

The top floor of the Bell Tower cannot be reached by elevator. It can not be reached by normal stairs. It can only be reached by a very narrow, ancient spiral staircase. I start backing away, headed towards the relative safety of the elevators. At this point, some of my fellow choir members have begun to notice that I am acting a little less exuberant than usual.

My heroes, JB and Wynne, ask me what the problem is and I calmly explain my fear of heights, spiral staircases and elevators. Okay, so it wasn't so calm. It was more like this. "He (pointing wildly at Phil) made me take elevator. Elevator! Scary. Heights bad. No stairs. NO. Hate spiral staircases! NO."

They confer briefly and then tell me that they have a solution to my problem. Wynne will walk in front of me and JB will follow behind. If I fall, I can grab onto Wynne and take him and JB down with me. This makes me giggle at the thought and helps prepare me for the next step.

The next few minutes are a blur but finally, finally we get to the top. I am relieved to finally make it to my destination. After the elevators and the spiral staircase, nothing else could happen, right? Nothing traumatic or horrifying. I am optimistic for all of five seconds. Then I walked down the hallway, following my other choir members and reached the Bell room. I should be fascinated by the various bells making up the carillon but I am not. No, instead, I am transfixed by the sight before me.

That would be the large, floor-to-ceiling, window. The window that is probably also a good 10 feet wide. The window that has no glass or protective barrier or steel-plated covering over it. The window that, if I would happen to trip, I could fall through and land on the ground, smashed to bits. I stand there. I am literally frozen in fear, unable to move because I am convinced that my next step will be my last.

As I stand there, staring down, feeling the blood drain from my head and puddle in my feet, I hear the sneering voice of my teenage nemesis (I seem to attract the occasional nemesis. Obviously practice for being the Queen of the Universe), Mr. "I am so pretentious that I spell my name with an h like a popular shoe store (well, in the 80's. Not sure if they are still around) and if you pronounce it wrong I will sneer at you because obviously the H is silent and I am very attractive and the girls love me so it just stands to reason that I be a total dick." I am having a difficult time finding a fake name for him so we will just call him Dhom which starts with D that rhymes with T that stands for Total Dick.

Anyway, so let’s recap. I am staring out at the cruel ground, possibly suffering from vertigo, about ready to go stark, raving insane from this horrible, traumatic, deplorable experience when I hear the voice of the insensitive Dhom.

“Nice view, Dana?”

Now you may not think that this is all that awful of a thing to say to me because hey, maybe he wasn’t aware of my fear. Maybe he was wondering why I was so transfixed by the view. Maybe he wasn’t a total dick.

Yeah, well, you’d be wrong if you thought that. He had been there when JB and Wynne came to my rescue. He was completely aware of the situation. He stood there, with his evil, perfectly white and straight teeth smirking at me.

I am not quite sure what came over me but something in my brain snapped. I started walking very slowly towards him, a look of determination on my face. Fortunately, JB and Wynne were nearby and realized what was running through my mind (“Must. Kill. Boy. Must. Push. Out. Window. Die. Total. Dick. Die”). JB grabbed me and held me back, Wynne turned to the somewhat shocked looking Dhom (who started backing up the minute I started advancing on him) and told him to shut up and leave me alone. Then both JB and Wynne slowly walked me past the open window (C’mon. We’re 20 floors up. Why the hell is the window wide open) and into the area where the carillon was located, telling me the entire time that it would be okay.

After the tour was over, I was escorted back past the window, down the staircase and into the elevator without incident, just mild panic on my part. I felt extremely grateful to both JB and Wynne for getting me through that day. I am not sure that I will ever quite forgive Dhom for his comment (Well, it has been over 20 years. I suppose I can. Even though he was a total dick).

I still hate elevators but have managed to get more used to them over the years since there are more and more safety features taking place. One of the reasons that my purse is so big (briefcase size) is due to my viewpoint is that if I do get stuck in an elevator, I will calmly sit down and read my book (my purse should be able to hold at least one hardcover book) and refrain from panic. And, of course, the one time I did get stuck in an elevator, I was sans purse and got trapped between the 3rd and 4th floors of my building, resulting in panic and tears for the 15 minutes it took the maintenance staff to get me out of there.

I have not run into a spiral staircase in years, the last time was when I was living with my former friend Jake and his town home had a loft with a spiral staircase leading to the loft. His daughter left a Barbie doll on the stairs and I stepped on it, falling down the stairs. I was not horribly injured but it strengthened my resolve to stay away from them. Also, with same former friend, I watched a horrifyingly scary, suspenseful movie called “The Spiral Staircase.” No blood, no chainsaws, just a psychotic running around killing women with disabilities. It was brilliant and terrifying and filmed in black and white. I would recommend seeing it. And avoiding spiral staircases.

Right now, I would have to say that my biggest fear is still escalators. Fortunately I don’t have to deal with them that often. I always thought it was because my sister once got the heel of her shoe caught in an escalator and almost wasn’t able to pry it loose. There was also a horrible Simpsons episode where the Itchy and Scratchy cartoon showed Scratchy nailing Itchy’s paws to the escalator and then the escalator had these sharp blades and it was very traumatizing because the escalator ate Itchy. And I also discovered that my mother is terrified by escalators so I have obviously inherited this behavior from her.

As for heights, that fear came from the summer I fell off a cliff at William O’Brien state park and dangled by my fingertips until someone came to rescue me. That was the summer where my mother thought it would be safer to enroll Kari and I in summer school instead of letting us stay home by ourselves. Yeah. Safer. I fall off a cliff; I get sunstroke – that seems really safe to me.

I hope you enjoyed this post and I apologize it took so damn long to write. How about you? Any phobias you want to share, people of the Internet?

What is coming next: I was tagged by Mark to write about the five things I miss the most about my childhood. I also am planning on explaining just why I have been forbidden to play with use power tools in a responsible manner. Please let me know which one you want to read first. I am eager to please and I promise I will never attempt to throw any of you out of a window.

The ABC Meme

While surfing the Internet looking for a stupid list about stupid phobias and not being able to find anything about the stupid things and it is making me very ANGRY (Ha! You thought I was going to write it is making me very stupid, didn’t you?), I found an ABC meme.

Act your age? No. I’m 38 and I routinely act anywhere from 5 to 105, depending on my mood. But never 38. I’m not sure what 38-year-old people act like.

Born on what day of the week? Friday. Friday's child is loving and giving.

Chore you hate? Cleaning.

Dad’s name? Robert Earle

Essential makeup item? I don’t really have one. I don’t wear makeup most of the time. However, I am fond of my Pussy Pucker Pot lip-gloss, Apricot Areola that I got from flea’s shop. It smells and tastes wonderful and has the added benefit of being a great conversation starter.

Favorite actor? Stanley Tucci. I love him.

Gold or silver? Neither. I prefer stainless steel because I have less chance of an allergic reaction.

Hometown? Mahtomedi, MN

Instruments you play? Play might be a stretch because it has been years but the clarinet and the piano.

Job title? Customer service representative.

Kids? No, thanks. I’ll pass.

Living arrangements? 26th floor of a 32nd floor building in Saint Paul, MN with my two roommates.

Mom’s name? Carol Ann.

Need? Water, something to read, good friends, music.

Overnight hospital stays? When I was born and once when they thought I might have appendicitis.

Phobias? Funny you should ask, still trying to write the stupid post about phobias. You’ll find out when it’s finished.

Quote you like? “Reach for the stars. You won’t catch them, but you won’t end up with a handful of mud either.” – Leo Burnett

Religious affiliation? I’m a born-again Christian. I am, however, not a person that believes that only my religion is the right one and everyone should believe what I believe. Besides, I also believe in reincarnation and don’t go to church.

Siblings? 4 half-brothers (Ric, Scott, Bruce and Denny), three half-sisters (Barb, Nan, Suz) and my “full” sister, Kari. (Kari and I have the same mother and father; my dad was married before and had 7 children with his previous wife)

Time you wake up? 6:30 AM.

Unique talent? My ability to be charmingly askew. Or, in Johnny's words, refreshingly and delightfully mad. Life is meant to be an adventure. Or a freak show. Whatever.

Worst habit? Biting my nails.

X-rays you’ve had? There have been a few. The worst one was when they were trying to determine if I had some odd disease that caused my throat to stiffen and that’s why I am capable of choking on my own saliva.

Yummy food you make? Last night I made pizza with a white sauce of my own creation. It was pretty good. I’m also good at lasagna.

Zodiac Sign? Pisces. Also, by Chinese Zodiac, I'm a Ram or Sheep.

Just call me Mata Hari*

Have I turned into a gorgeous Femme Fatale without realizing it? I’m just curious. You all remember the story about Quagna that took place a week ago last Sunday. If you don’t remember, you can find it at the post titled At Last.

Last week, on Thursday, Beth got off of work early and we made a trip to the Chalet. We had a good time playing darts, even though there was an odd woman named Nerak (if you have ever seen “The Watcher In The Woods,” you will get this reference. If you have not seen it, you should. It is an excellent movie, very scary in a supernatural, not gory, way) who glommed onto us for most of the evening. She seemed nice enough but way too needy and touchy-feely. While I don’t mind being touched, I have a problem when a complete stranger starts touching my arm, back or shoulder. It is a form of intimacy that I don’t want to reach with someone right away, especially when they also have no concept of “This is my space. This is your space.”

She also invited herself to play darts with us which seems somewhat encroaching to me, especially if you don’t know how to play the game we are playing (cricket). Even with Beth pointing to the lit dart board and telling her several times that she wants to shoot for the numbers that are lit up, Narek didn’t get it. And, I’m sorry, but it is just rude to walk up to someone and touch their shoulder, saying “I’m just doing so terrible” when they are right in the process of releasing that pointy stick thing at the big thing with the numbers and the circles. We had asked Bryan to play darts with us and she did this to him, causing him to miss the bullseye by, oh, about a mile (well, maybe closer to a foot. He ended up hitting the wall).

Anyway, I decided I wanted to be put into the rotation because, let’s face it, I am an attention whore (continuously declaring myself to be Queen of the Universe might have been a clue about this). I love karaoke because it reminds me of when I was in high school and did a lot of acting and I miss “treading the boards” terribly. Later in the night, after the game of darts was over and Char had arrived to join us, I asked Theresa (bartender) for a glass of water. As she’s pouring the water, a man named Brian walks up to me and we have the following conversation.

Brian: I just wanted to tell you that I think you have a beautiful voice and I’m always glad when I see you’re here because you’ll be outstanding (this may not have been his exact words but he pretty much told me, in both words and voice tone, that I am the most wonderful singing sensation in the entire world. This is really nice of him but not accurate. It’s not that I suck or anything but I’m not going to be competing on American Idol anytime soon (not that they would let me, the ageist bastards)).
DM: Thank you. That’s so sweet. Your name is Brian, right?
Brian: Yes.
DM: I’m Dana.
Brian: I know.
DM: It’s really nice meeting you.
Brian: I like to sing but I only sing Irish songs because I don’t know any pop songs.
DM: Well, those are good.

I go back to tell Beth and Char about this and Beth asks me “Have you ever seen him before tonight?” and I respond with “No. I have no clue.” Throughout the evening, Brian and I were exchanging the occasional smile.

Beth also did a post about the excitement we ran across in her post about last Thursday. You should read it. It talks about Beth’s encounter with a real live crack smoker.

Nothing overly exciting happened to prove my irresistibility to the male species on Sunday, other than the fact that there was a guy there that I thought was Brian and turned out not be him. I, thinking it was Brian, would occasionally glance over at him to find him looking at me. He would smile slightly, I would smile back. However, it was a fun night, as always. About halfway through the night, Bryan asked us if we wanted to stop singing and play darts since it was dead. People would walk into the bar and look around confused, wondering where everyone was. We were all clustered into the dart area where I and my partner, Benny (non-singing regular) managed to kick everyone’s ass and I told Benny several times that I loved him and would bear his children if I was planning on having children. And no, I was not serious and he knew that. It was just fun.

After the game, Char had arrived and I gladly exchanged my position at the dart board with her. I do enjoy playing darts but some people had shown up to sing and this way I could throw my name back into the rotation. Yay! More singing! While I was waiting, I exchanged some pleasantries with Jason, a singing semi-regular, and worked on my next post which will be about how some of my phobias almost drove me to commit homicide when I was in high school. Liz arrived and called me over to her table and I enjoyed talking to her and James about various things, including why I don't drive.

On the way home, Beth, Char and I (do you not just love the fact that our names are alphabetical? Isn't that cool? Or is it just me) were talking about the evening - playing darts, karaoke, Bryan and Liz and the rest of the cool table, Gil (guy I like), etc. Then a car passes by us and we have the following conversation.

Beth (B): That's a cop.
Char (C): He's going a bit fast, isn't he?
DM (D): Is it wrong that I want to lick his earlobe?

There is a dead silence. Both Beth and Char look at me.

B: Oh! You mean Gil.
C: Not the cop.
D: Well, yeah.

And then today, as Keem and I were headed to work, Keem had to run back to the apartment and change her shirt. I had already pressed the button for the elevator and, as I was standing there, the door opened and there was a man standing there. He looks up, sees me and his face lights up with this huge smile. I smile back and say "I'm sorry, we're going to get the next elevator."

I kid you not, his head drops in disappointment and he says "Okay" in this really sad tone. Like this is the most depressing thing he has ever heard of, my not sharing the elevator with him.

Now, I know that I've been doing my exercises at work (using one pound weights to gain a curvy body just like Marilyn Monroe) but it's only been a few days. I know that I haven't made that much progress. My hair needs to be shaped badly and is thwarting me on a daily basis. So what's going on with the menfolk? Have they all gone insane? And why is it that the guy I like isn't even aware that I'm female? Answer that.

*Title because I couldn't think of a good femme fatale name and Mata Hari works because, seriously, I would love to be a spy. I could wear cool disguises and stuff. But then I'd probably get caught because I am not so good at keeping a secret.

No Sea Turtles Were Harmed In The Making Of This Photo Essay

On my last photo essay, the one about the balloons, Johnny left a comment about her concern for the effect on the environment, especially regarding the sea turtles. I thought that I would try distracting her from my environment faux pas (and I call myself a tree hugger!) by providing pictures of last Christmas.

Every year, Jeff and Keem decorate the Christmas tree. I do not participate. It's not that I don't enjoy Christmas, it's just that I prefer to be "supreezed" when the tree is fully decorated. It is a lot of fun for me to come out and see what they've done. However, this year, I did decide to stick around and photograph the progress. Especially when Eddy decided that he wanted to help with the decorating.

After the boxes are brought out of the Christmas closet, Eddy is in ecstacy. He loves to climb on, in, over and under boxes.



Eddy is distracted from the boxes when he realizes that Jeff is putting together the Christmas tree without Eddy's direct attention (oh, the horror!).



"No, no, you put the branch like this. Oh, here. Let me show you. Silly human."



Eddy checks to make sure that Jeff has installed the branches per his detailed instructions.



"You need to install the lights now, Jeff. Here, let me help you with that. Aren't you glad that you have my assistance?"



"Hmm. These lights seem to be all tangled now. Let's see what I can do about this...dang lights! They are alive! They are thwarting me! Take that, you piece of Mrrrrowww (really bad word in cat language)!"



Oddly enough, the next morning I came walking out into the living room and found this ornament lying on the ground. I wonder how this could have happened.



"I am innocent. Innocent, I say. I cannot believe you would accuse I, a valuable member of this family, of toying with the ornaments. I am shocked AND appalled at such disrespect. Good day to you, madam! I said good day!"



However, the temptation of the ornaments is too much to resist and soon Eddy is caught red-pawed.



"Don't be silly. I just felt that the icicle didn't belong here. I think it will be much better in another place. I am innocent...okay. You want to know the truth? I have a problem. I have an ornament addiction. But it's not my fault. It's society. It's the man that's causing this. That Santa Claus man with his reindeer and elves waiting on him all the time. Where are my reindeers and elves? No wonder I play with ornaments. I want a lawyer."



After a long day in court, Eddy takes a nap with his lawyer, Keem. She has managed to plea-bargain the charges to "Reckless Endangerment of Ornaments" instead of "Premeditated Ornamenticide." Eddy has been sentenced to parole for a year and must attend Ornaments Anonymous. Your prayers for his recovery from this awful addiction would be most welcome.

Getting To Know You

Meme Number 3

An old work friend of mine sent this to me a few months ago (I don’t check that email account very often) and I thought I would fill this out for my blog. I have not seen this one before so it’s nice that it’s a little different from this one I filled out last year.

1. What time did you get up this morning? 6:30 (and this is after going to karaoke last night and getting home at 3:00.

2. Diamonds or pearls? Normally I would say neither but last night I saw an irregular pearl and thought it was beautiful. It was a gift to Char from her mother on her 18th birthday.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Universe and Sahara (I loved them both, I have to plug them).

4. What is your favorite TV show? CSI: The original. I’m trying to love CSI: New York but I can’t fall for Gary Sinise’s character, which is sad because I adore him as an actor. I am also trying to watch CSI: Miami because Beth reminded me over the weekend just how hot David Caruso is when we watched Proof of Life.

5. What did you have for breakfast? Sausage & Cheese Croissant and hash browns from Burger King. Before you judge, lunch consisted of trail mix.

6. What is your middle name? Marie

7. What is your favorite cuisine? Probably Chinese. I am a sucker for really good Chicken Chow Mein

8. What foods do you dislike? Tomatoes (they are evil), fresh mushrooms (love canned) and fried fish eggs (sorry, Johnny but I do).

9. What is your favorite chip flavor? Okay, it’s weird but I found it once and I loved it. It’s Roasted Chicken Ripple chips. Yum.

10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Mechanical Bride by Medium

11. What type of car do you drive? Hmm. Well, this hasn’t changed since last year. I don’t drive. But if I did, it would be an El Camino.

13. What characteristic do you despise? I’m not overly fond of arrogance. I think it’s great to be self-assured but if you’re acting superior, you’re just waiting to be dropkicked from the podium you placed yourself on.

14. Favorite item(s) of clothing. Tank tops and capris. I look horrible wearing the tank tops because my arms are huge and then there are all the skin tags but since I am always warm, they really help in the summer.

15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Back to Portugal and then to the United Kingdom. And my vacation would be for at least a year.

16. What color is your bathroom? White? I think. I don’t really pay attention to it. When I have my own bathroom it will be decorated in rubber duckies and green duckies (frogs).

17. Favorite brand of clothing? Well, I don’t buy by brands, I buy for comfort. I guess I would say Capistrano. Maker of my many tank tops and capris and they are quite comfortable.

18. Where would you retire? Somewhere where the temperature is always between 50-70 degrees. There would be no humidity. If it rained, it would be a warm rain. There would be no snow. Ever. Stupid snow.

19. Favorite time of day? Oh, I would say it was 6:30 AM when I’m rising from my bed after a restful night sleep. Please. Are you insane? I don’t have a favorite time of day. Does anyone?

20. What was your most memorable birthday? I’ve been very lucky. My last few birthdays have been very memorable, mainly because of my friends and family. This last one was made extra-special by an impromptu performance of “I Want It That Way” by Bryan and Jay “Tice.” They started out imitating the Back Street Boys and ended up finishing the song in Three Tenor Style. It was hilarious.

21. Where were you born? Saint Paul, MN

22. Favorite sport to watch? Darts – I got to be a dart caddy at karaoke. It is a lot more exciting than you would think. I'm not really a big sports person.

23. What fabric detergent do you use? I don’t know. Keem does the laundry.

26. Coke or Pepsi? Diet Coke with Lime. Although I do like Diet Pepsi with Lime as well. It depends on which one is on sale.

27. Are you a morning person or night person? I am a mid-afternoon person.

28. What is your shoe size? I honestly have no idea. I thought I wore a size 10 shoe but, according to the woman who recently measured my feet, I am supposed to be wearing a size 8. I think she is insane because that is just not comfortable.

29. Do you have any pets? Yes. One cat. Edmund “Eddy” Fitzgerald Orange Vittum.

30. What did you want to be when you were little? An author. Gangster’s Moll. Super Friend.

31. What is something that you would like to do, but have never done? Finish my novel(s).

Another Book Meme

I’ve been tagged by the Fabulous Robert-Marlene (RM, how do you get the squiggly lines in there and the accents? I have never been able to figure that out) to do this book meme. I may have done this once before but I can’t remember. And let’s face it, books are our friends and they should be talked about as much as possible because they like it.

1. Estimate the total number of books you've owned in your life:

Uh…that requires math. I would say that right now, scattered throughout my room (I so have to clean), I have at least 200 or more. Then there are the books that are in the closet, still packed from when we moved in the apartment 3 years ago. I would say that I have owned at least 1000, if not more. Probably more. I have a book addiction and I admit it. I would say the things I spend money on the most frivolously would be books, DVDs and scrapbooking paraphernalia.

2. What's the last book you bought?

I purchased the newest Nora Roberts book on Tuesday. It’s been something I’ve been waiting for since, oh, last year.. The book is called “Black Rose” and it is the second book in the “In The Garden” series. And I, showing my wondrous generosity, even let Keem read it first.

3. What was the last book you read?

This is difficult. I read several books at once and it’ll probably be easier to figure out what I’m reading now. I have my purse book, “Black Rose” but I also have the back-up purse book, “Stealing the Shadows” by Kay Hooper (borrowed lent (I’m trying, Beth. It is a hard habit to break) to me by Liz. I am also carrying around “The Great Divorce” by CS Lewis (also lent to me by Liz) but that is kind of difficult to get into. CS Lewis is an outstanding author but he’s also a bit, well, weirdly boring. Then there is the bathroom book, reserved for baths. This was lent to me by Beth’s Mom and it’s called “Indelible” by Karin Slaughter. I am about halfway finished with that.

So I go through all that and I remember what the last book was – “Girls in Pants – The Third Summer of The Sisterhood” by Ann Brashares. The Traveling Pants series was recommended to me by my friend Katie and I enjoyed it a lot. It’s simple and fun and even made me cry in a couple of places.

4. List 5 Books that mean a lot to you.

“The Giving Tree” by Shel Silverstein. I cry every time I read it. It is about this boy who loves a tree and then he grows up and then he demands stuff from the tree and the tree gives him stuff and then the boy leaves and comes back and…never mind, I’m going to start crying again. Sorry. But you should read it. It is very, very good.

“The Clown of God” by Tomie DePaola. I love Tomie DePaola. He is an excellent author. I discovered him working at the elementary school library I mentioned in the last post I did. This is my favorite book by him; it always makes me cry when I read it as well. It’s about this clown and he used to be really famous and had this really cool juggling trick that he would do and then he got old and he couldn’t do the trick anymore and he was very sad and then he went to this place and there was…never mind, I will start crying if I go any further. You should read it. It is also very, very good.

“Kane & Abel” and “The Prodigal Daughter” by Jeffrey Archer. I have to include these books together. I have read “Kane & Abel” about 14-15 times and “The Prodigal Daughter” about 12-13 (didn’t realize there was a sequel). “Kane & Abel” is the story of two men who are born on the same day and the lives they lead. Kane is rich, Abel is poor and they become sworn enemies. “The Prodigal Daughter” is about Abel’s daughter, Florentyna, who falls in love with Kane’s son and what happens when their families find out. Excellent, excellent books. I adore them.

“Irish Thoroughbred” by Nora Roberts. It is by no means her best book. It is, however, her first book and the first book of hers that I had ever read. She is my favorite author and I have loved seeing the way that her work has evolved over the years. My dream is to someday own every single one of her books. Keem thought I was insane when I bought the “Official Nora Roberts Companion” which is a list of all of her books. But I am a dedicated fan.

A book in Portuguese about the Oceanario by lots of people, including Johnny. This very beautiful coffee table book was a gift from Johnny. She worked at the Oceanario when it first opened and told us stories about the penguins (which Beth loved) and the other creatures she worked with. While I can’t read a single word (well, okay, I can read some but none of them are bacon or Sacana (rat bastard)), I will always treasure it because the pictures are exquisite and Johnny autographed it and it will always be a memory of a wonderful trip.

5. Tag 5 people
I’m not so much tagging as suggesting that I would like to see some people complete this. First of all, there is Keem, who has not updated her blog in forever (it is not nagging, Keem, if I say I would like to see you complete this (No, it’s not)). I think both Beth and Johnny may have done this before. As always, I say, hey, if you want to do it, do it. And I would be cool with that.

If I Could Be...

Okay, I bring you the first of three memes. Just because I am in a memey mood. And yes, I am aware that memey is not a word, Spell Check. Shut up.


I’ve seen this on a few websites but hadn’t tried it yet. I just found this on DeAnn’s site and decided to give it a try. Because I love memes! Especially ones that allow me to think. So, here’s how it works. You choose five of the following and then also add one and pass it on.

If I could be a scientist...
If I could be a farmer...
If I could be a musician...I would return to the stage and star in brilliant musicals and everyone would be my adoring fan. It would be like karaoke but with costumes and handsome co-stars that worship me and I would not have to do any dancing. I would have back-up dancers.

If I could be a doctor...

If I could be a painter...I would paint bold, vivid, confusing abstracts with grandiose titles that would make everyone think that I was either a genius or insane. Or quite possibly both.

In Junior High, I took an art class, thinking it was an easy A. Let me just laugh hysterically at that because I cannot draw a straight line without a ruler. Perspective puzzles me. People are usually stick figures. I did manage to impress my teacher when it came to working with charcoal. I did an abstract picture that vaguely resembled a cave with figures dancing around a fire. I entitled it “Alien creatures, dancing madly, shouting their triumphs to the gods.” She loved it and oddly enough, when the end of class came, it had disappeared.

If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary...
If I could be a chef...
If I could be an architect...
If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a psychologist...

If I could be a librarian...I would never get anything done because I would be too busy reading. In fact, I worked in an elementary school library once and had a great time sneaking books out and devouring them at home. There are some really good books out there that are for “children” but adults could benefit from reading them as well.

If I could be an athlete...
If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be an inn-keeper...
If I could be a professor...

If I could be a writer...I would be able to finish a stupid novel! Or I would find a way to take my rather unique writing style and make people fall madly in love with it and demand more. It could happen, right?

If I could be a llama-rider...
If I could be a bonnie pirate...
If I could be an astronaut...

If I could be a world famous blogger...wait. Aren’t I already? Self proclaimed Queen of the Universe, people! Seriously, I am thinking that I would get a lot more hate mail but I would make fun of it in my charmingly askew way and my readers would clamor for me to publish a book. And then Hollywood would demand to make a movie of my life and I would let them on two conditions – Marisa Tomei plays me and I get to meet Rowan Atkinson.

If I could be a justice on any one court in the world...
If I could be married to any current famous political figure…
If I could be a show dog owner...
If I could be a character from a book or TV show...
If I could be on any game or reality show...

And this is my addition:

If I could be a private detective…I would wear a trench coat and a fedora and wear cool disguises and solve mysteries and never ever take divorce cases. And I would talk all film noir and have handsome and mysterious gentlemen who may or may not be bad guys come to my office. And they would fall in love with me and me with them but we could never be together. And they may or may not get killed and die in my arms, proclaiming their love for me and I would be very sad but soon get over it because the next handsome and mysterious gentleman would be in my office. And anyway, he was probably a bad guy if he was killed in a shoot-out with the police, right?

Balloons - A photo essay

I love balloons. Seriously. I think they are great. Because they float and you can play with them and when you have one tied on your wrist, it's the best feeling. Hi. My name is Dana and I am easily amused. Which is a good thing, right?

I share this love of balloons with my nephew, Josh. And not only do we love balloons but we also love to watch them be released and float away. Here are some pictures I took last year on October 3, Josh's one year birthday.

Kari and Eric ready the balloons while Josh and Mom (behind the red balloon) look on.



At first it slowly floats around us.



But then the wind picks up and the balloon heads across the deck and over to the next building. Can you see it, Josh?



There it is (I added a gradual blue tint to the picture)! Look at it go!



It's time to let the other balloons go. Josh is getting a bit cranky and it is time for his nap.



These balloons go straight up the side of the building.



And then they were on their way to a great adventure (focal black and white. I am seriously loving Picasa, even though it doesn't have all of the cool features of Adobe Photoshop)!



Applaud me, people of the Internet. I have finally learned how to do a post with more than one picture. This is a good thing. Isn't Josh adorable?

Johnny's Pets

This is a collage I created from Picasa. These are Johnny's wonderful, wonderful angel pets. I miss them muchly.

Bring Johnny To Minnesota (BJTM) Fund Update

During the month of May, the BJTM fund on my site received $58.38. Grand total of the fund is $59.83. Plus, Beth told me she's up to almost $40 (might be more by now).

Have I mentioned how much you people rock? Because you do. Actually, you rock AND roll AND party all night long. I'm just saying.

Thank you for your support. Johnny! Pay attention! You're coming to Minnesota. It might not be this year but next year for sure! If you can pry yourself away from your bone boiling.

Just Because

So I've decided to come out of the blogger closet. My last name is not Jones (I know you are all shocked by this). It is Vittum. If you meet a Vittum, they are probably related to me. The name was shortened from Vieuxtemps (pronounced phonetically View Tem) at Ellis Island. Apparently Vieuxtemps was difficult to say. Yeah, like Vittum is any easier to pronounce (pronounced phonetically Vit (rhymes with Bit) Tum). It is usually pronounced (especially by telemarketers) as Bittum, Vytum.

On another note, I've decided to set up an Amazon wish list at the request of someone. If you are interested in seeing what makes my heart go pitter-patter in the world of books and DVDs, click here.

At Last

At Last - Etta James

At last
my love has come along
my lonely days over
and life is like a song

Ooh At last
the skies above are blue
well my heart was wrapped up in clover
the night I looked at you

I found a dream
that I could speak to
a dream that I could call my own
I found a thrill
to press my cheek to
a thrill that I have never known

When I liked the Cream Puff Man but was trying to convince myself (and everyone else) that I didn't, I told Beth that it was impossible. That I knew, knew without a doubt in my heart, that when I met The Guy, The One, I would hear At Last playing in my head. So that was how I knew without a doubt that Puffy was not the one. Do you know what she kept doing? Do you? Oh, I'll bet you'll never guess.

Yeah. She started singing At Last. It was horrible. Let me rephrase, she sang it very well but it was messing with my mind. And that is just wrong. But fortunately, I came to my senses and the crack I was smoking left my system and all was good again.

I have a theory (Buffy fans, every time you use this phrase, do you flash back to the musical and remember Anya singing "I've got a theory! It could be bunnies! Bunnies aren't just cute like everybody supposes! They've got them hoppy legs and twitchy little noses! And what's with all the carrots? What do they need such good eyesight for anyway? Bunnies! Bunnies! It must be bunnies! (Pyrotechnics.) ...Or maybe midgets." Or is that just me?).

Okay, I have a theory that I am someday going to meet The Guy, The One but I'm either going to be 90 or he's out there now but he lives 2000 miles away. In fact, Larry and I just had a conversation about this on MSN Messenger the other day. This is not a very pleasant theory but I am cynical and yeah, kind of bitter about how my romantic life has been going lately the last 8 years.

Last night at karaoke, one of the semi-regulars was in and was mentioning to Angie that he had a girlfriend now. I overheard this conversation and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Not that I like this guy. That's not it at all. No, I was more, shall we say, shocked and/or stunned that he had a girlfriend (I am a bitch. I have never said otherwise). My viewpoints on it were something like this:

DM: Beth, there is no God.
B (somewhat shocked to hear me say this because I am rather spiritual): What? Why?
DM: Semi-regular (can't even give him a good fake name, sorry, but it'll give away who I'm talking about and I may be a bitch but I'm not a BITCH. We'll call him Gary) Gary has a girlfriend.
B: Oh, my God (look of horror as she imagines the impossibility of this).
DM: I know! And yet, I am still single.

As those of you who have been reading faithfully, you do know that there is a guy that I do like (who I have titled as Gil (short for Guy I like)) up at karaoke. However, he is not aware that I am a female. This post, titled At Last, is not about him. No, something really weird happened last night shortly after I made my comment about there being no God.

God said "Oh, yeah?" And proved me wrong.

Bryan called this guy up, named Quagna or Quarta or Quota (probably not Quota). He asked Quogna how to pronouce his name and Quagna stood up on the stage and said "It's Quagna (lots of other syllables) from South Africa. I have come here, to The Chalet, from 2000 miles away."

Hello? 2000 miles away? Hmm. I am somewhat intrigued. Plus, the accent is hot.

Quagna and his friend are standing on the stage. His friend looks at me. He gestures with two fingers, pointing at me and then pointing to Quagna and then pointing at his eyes, conveying eye contact. Or that he is really special. One of the two.

Quagna then begins to sing. No, let me rephrase that. Quagna begins to sing to me. Directly to me. Staring into my eyes. Beth looks at him and leans forward.

B: Hey, Dana?
DM: Yeah (not breaking eye contact with Quagna)?
B: There is a God.
DM: Oh, my God. Yeeeeaaaaaahhhh (said it a drawl as I am realizing that Quagna is a) hot and b) singing directly to me and c) did I mention hot?).

Beth gets up and says something to Bryan about this after Quagna finishes singing. Something like "That guy was totally staring at Dana when he was singing." Bryan, who has no romance in his soul (well, that's not true, he was actually in another part of the bar), says "I didn't notice it." However, Angie and Amy and Beth all did notice it. I had witnesses.

Later, it is my turn to sing. I have no idea what I'm going to sing and I give my list to Beth. She tells Bryan the number. It's Black Velvet. I have sung Black Velvet before. And all immodesty aside, I'm pretty good at it. I am really getting into the song, putting my heart and soul into it.

Then Quagna walks up, looks at me, smiles and pulls out a chair directly in front of me. He sits down and stares at me the entire time I am singing. I end up singing to him. We maintain eye contact through the rest of the song. Even when I get completely nervous and completely fuck up the rest of the song by going completely flat.

After I finish, Quagna walks away, smiling at me. I am a wreck. This does not happen to me, people of the Internet. EVER. Maybe I didn't emphasize that enough. Things like this do not happen to me. EVER. This could be construed as romantic. There is no romance in my life at all. What the hell is going on?

Then God, who has a very odd sense of humor, decides to throw a twist into the night. When Quagna gets up to sing again (and now Angie, Amy and Beth are referring to him as my boyfriend), he calls for his friend Johann (the guy who was up there before with him) to come up. He needs Johann to be there because Johann is his dancing partner. Um, what?

Quagna begins singing, Johann behind him. Johann starts making slight thrusting movements with his hips towards Quagna. Quagna is still singing to me but his friend is practically humping him on the stage. At this point, we are all very confused.

Quagna finishes singing, Johann wanders off. Quagna smiles at me and walks away again. A little later, Beth says "Yeah, you know your boyfriend? He's probably gay." Ya think? She goes on to tell me that he just went into the bathroom with his friend. Which is not what led us to think he might be gay, there was a whole lot of other stuff going on that led us to this conclusion.

Then God's sense of humor runs towards the demented. There is this whole weird scene that I didn't catch much of but Angie and Amy witnessed. They had gone out to the parking lot and seen Johann lying on the ground, a broken beer bottle by his head. They, concerned, responible people that they are, walked up to him and asked if he was okay. He mumbles something.

Johann: My friend...my friend is a good guy. But something happened to my head.

Angie and Amy turn around and see Quagna come out, fist cocked, about ready to punch Johann, when he sees them and turns his "I'm going to kick your ass" stance into "Oh, my friend, what happened to you?" They hug. Angie is telling us about this and I tell her about my theory of how The Guy probably lives 2000 miles away from me and when someone who could be The Guy shows up, he's probably gay. We laugh about this because let's face it, it's pretty damn funny. They are still referring to him as my boyfriend. Who may or may not be gay. The rest of the night, Quagna is hitting on every woman in the bar except those at our table. He does not come near me again.

Liz comes in, we tell her the whole saga about how there is no God and about Quagna and what the fuck is going on here? She, bless her, has brought me books and we talk about Gary and his girlfriend and how I should not use this as a barometer for my love life because it's Gary and he's just weird. The last few songs of the night are sung and I get to sing because I promised Liz and James last week that I would sing "Leaving on a Jet Plane" for them.

After the bar closes, people leave, as they should because hello, the bar has closed. Except for the table of the two drunken blonde girls sitting behind us. With Quagna. He is hitting on Drunken Blonde Girl #1 (who is wearing a very tactful pink t-shirt that says "I need a stiff one." It goes lovely with the blue thong that you cannot help but see because her pants barely cover her thighs, let alone her ass). The three of them finally leave together. Goodbye, possible The Guy who may or may not be gay.

Liz, James, Beth and I have a great conversation about management and James tells us a very amusing story about an incredibly stupid employee that he has working for him. James needs a blog. So do Liz and Bryan. They are funny and brilliant and amusing people and we like them a lot. And, no, I'm not just saying this because I gave Liz the links to Beth and my blogs last night.

I, possibly in atonement for saying that there is no God, got in a cleaning mood and asked Bobby for a clean towel so I could wipe down the tables. He laughed at me but did comply. After bussing most of the tables (Andrew did beat me to one or two) and wiping them down, I asked Bobby if I could have a job. He said sure, I could come in every night at two and clean down the tables. Beth and I laugh over the fact that I'd have to take a bus to get there and then take a cab home. It would not be worth it.

Then the best part of the night happened. Beth and I were invited over to Bryan and Liz's house. We got to meet their adorable dog and see their beautiful house and I got to have a Diet Coke with Lime and we sat in the backyard and talked about stuff with them and James while Bryan tried to create a bonfire. And then he gave us fireworks and scared the crap out of us with things we thought would sparkle but instead they exploded in the fire.

It was a great evening, even though God is playing a serious joke on me with the whole Quagna thing. Oh, and this morning, sitting in Beth's apartment, we had an interesting conversation about this:

DM: How the hell did you pronouce his name anyway?
B (tries to say it): I'm not sure. How the hell would you scream that in bed anyway?
DM: I'm thinking it would have to be Q!

We laugh.

DM: Which brings back Star Trek: TNG memories. I could say "Call me Captain Kirk."
B: Yeah, because they're completely different series.
DM: I know. But hey, it might work.

Hope you had a great Memorial Day weekend, people of the Internet. May your love lives not be as complicated as mine.

Language Lessons

I was reading a post by Diana the other day. One of the things I like to do, once I discover a new blog, is start reading the archives. So, as I was scrolling along the page, I found a post she wrote about her son and how he was asking her questions about what the F-word was. And suddenly I was propelled back into time and remembering my experiences with learning certain words. Let's all give Diana props for breaking the hold the dreaded writer's block had over me.

Rabbits

Picture it, if you will, a young Dana (quite adorable, if I do say myself. This was before glasses, before weight gain and when my hair was long and loved me) coming home from kindergarten one day (I was five). My mother was outside, feeding the rabbits (we raised rabbits for a little while).

DM: Mom, what does fuck mean?
M: What?
DM: What does fuck mean?
M: Where did you hear that word?
DM: At school.

I must give my mom credit. She handled this very well.

M: It's what rabbits do when they are married.
DM: Oh (yeah, I had no clue).
M: But it's not a nice word. So please don't use it again.
DM: Okay.

That was it. I, of course, eventually learned what fuck meant. But did not use it much in front of my mother. Until I became a teenager and massive mood swings turned her into the enemy. Poor Mom. It's amazing how much better our relationship became after she a) moved to Arizona and b) I went back on Effexor. Too bad my happy pills weren't invented when I was a teenager, my life would probably been a hell of a lot better. Ah, well. Since I'm on Effexor, I don't even care about the hell that being a teenager was.

Abandoned By the Tooth Fairy

When I lost my last tooth (Carol, I didn't forget your question about things I believed as a child that I don't believe now, this is actually from it. This is pretty much the only thing I don't believe in anymore), I put it under my pillow as you are supposed to do. Now, I was pretty sure that the Tooth Fairy (Santa Claus/Easter Bunny) was Mom and/or Dad but I wasn't sure. Because, let's face it, parents are sneaky. They will go as long as they can to help us sustain belief in fictional characters and I, for one, love them for it.

The next morning, I woke up and lifted up my pillow, eager to see how much the Tooth Fairy had brought me. You can imagine my disappointment when there was nothing there. I went to my Mom and shared with her my tale of woe.

DM: Mom, the Tooth Fairy didn't come last night.
M: She didn't? That silly Tooth Fairy. I know. Why don't you go lay back in bed and close your eyes. I'll bet she'll come to see you then.
DM: Okay.

I get back into bed, cover up and close my eyes. I hear some rustling in the background.

Rustle, rustle, rustle. Some more rustling.

M: Shit.

My pillow lifts up. My pillow is set down. A few seconds pass.

M: Dana! I think the Tooth Fairy came! Let's check!

I lift up my pillow. There is, instead of the usual shiny two or three quarters, a shiny five dollar bill. Huh. Well, that's not normal. Gee, I wonder if Mom didn't have any quarters or even dollar bills. Well, I'm not going to complain. What, you think I'm stupid? Don't answer that.

Why, Grandma, what a big potty mouth you have

So Kari and I are over at Grandma's. This, obviously, was before she died. I think I was about 11 and Kari was 9. Mom had to borrow Grandma's car so there was Grandma, trapped visiting with her hellion lovely grandchildren (thank you Johnny for showing me how to do this! I HEART YOU) when she discovered that she was out of cigarettes. This is not good. I don't think there was a convenience store anywhere near her house at the time and she didn't want to drag us out walking a couple of miles.

So she started scouring the house, looking for an ashtray that might possibly have a cigarette butt in it long enough for her to get a few hits of precious, precious nicotine. We followed her from room to room. Unfortunately, Grandma was a fairly clean woman and so her ashtrays pratically sparkled. I really think she cleaned them after every cigarette.

Then, a bright light bulb went off over her head! What about the basement? There were probably cigarettes down there! We scurried down the stairs quickly. Ooh, sweet nicotine was in her grasp!

Grandma is practically trembling as she walked up to the ashtray. She looks into the cavernous ashtray, nearly empty...except for one cigarette. Only smoked about halfway through. It was a wonderful bonus for this slightly stressed out lady.

She clasped the cigarette in one hand, put it into her mouth and with her shaking hands, brought the lighter to the tip of the cigarette. Just as the lighter touched the cigarette, I saw something unusual.

DM: Um, Grandma, the cigarette is...

The filter catches on fire and flares. The sickly sweet smell of a burning filter fills the room.

DM: Backwards.
G: Shit!

We then spent the next two hours watching Grandma go through nicotine withdrawal until my Mom got back. This was long before cell phones so it's not like Grandma could have called her and asked her to bring a pack of smokes home.

The worst part about this story? There was a pack of cigarettes in the freezer the entire time. Grandma found it after she got home with her new carton.

Anyway, these are the tales of my exposure to the dreaded f and s words. What was your first swear word?

Bored, bored, bored, bored

Okay, I’m kind of bored. Plus, I have writer’s block which is never, ever good. Do you know how blocked I am? I am still working on my “100 Things About Me” that I started on April 9th. How hard is it to come up with 100 things? I’m stuck on 38. That’s so pathetic. So, in order to stave off guilt that I should be writing SOMETHING, I bring you back the music meme.

Using only the music of one of your favorite musical artists, answer these questions:
1. Are you male or female?: Not Your Girl
2. Describe yourself: Cheap and Evil Girl
3. How do some people feel about you?: Everything Feels Wrong
4. How do you feel about yourself?: Fool’s Gold
5. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest: Boys of Summer
6. Where would you rather be?: Galaxy Song
7. Describe what you want to be: Fallen
8. Describe how you live: Faster, Faster
9. Describe how you love: Smitten
10. Share a few words of wisdom: Show Me

Those songs are by Bree Sharp who (whom? I can never remember which is correct) I never would have discovered if not for Beth. Everyone say “Yay, Beth!” because Bree Sharp rocks and rolls.

Using only the music of one of your favorite musical artists, answer these questions:
1. Are you male or female?: Belle
2. Describe yourself: Flake
3. How do some people feel about you?: Fortunate Fool
4. How do you feel about yourself?: Good People
5. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest: Wasting Time
6. Where would you rather be?: Holes to Heaven
7. Describe what you want to be: Cupid
8. Describe how you live: Dreams Be Dreams
9. Describe how you love: Losing Hope
10. Share a few words of wisdom: Staple It Together

These songs are by Jack Johnson. I discovered Jack Johnson in one of two ways. Either by watching VH1 one night with Beth during a scrapbook marathon or by Bryan singing “Flake” at karaoke. Whatever. I’m just glad I did discover him. He has a very haunting voice and I like his music (although Bryan’s better at “Flake”). And thankfully he has a new album out this year or I never would have been able to answer number 1.

I am avidly looking forward to Sunday. My entire week has revolved around “Is it Sunday yet?” I think I need help. Perhaps there is a Karaoke Anonymous that I could start joining. Perhaps it’s not just the karaoke and the hanging with Beth that I am looking forward to but the fact that there might be someone at karaoke but I am not saying anything about that because that would be admitting that I like him and I don’t. Nope. Not at all. Just excited about karaoke and seeing Beth. That’s it.

Ten Things I've Never Done

Mark tagged me for this. I don’t think I’m going to be quite as creative as he was (check his post out here) but I think it’ll be fun.

1. I have never petted a cougar. I wanted to, once when I was at the Como Zoo; it was lying very close to the bars and looked quite cuddly. Fortunately, my mother squashed that idea by dragging me quite firmly the other way.

2. I have never had a driver’s license. I have had my driver’s permit twice. Once when I was 18 and once when I was 36 or 37. Ask Beth. She would know. I don’t remember these things.

3. I have never killed anyone. Even though my New Year’s Resolution this year was to not kill anyone, it was mainly a joke. I am not particularly a violent person. I mean, sure, I make vague threatening gestures with a fork when people irritate me but that doesn’t mean I’ll actually stab them or anything.

4. I have never been in love. I have been in like and in lust and in infatuation but never in love. I’m not sure I regret this, especially when I consider the men I have dated in the past. But, hey, better bruised pride than a broken heart, right?

5. I have also never been married (but I was engaged once) or been pregnant. I’m very thankful about the not having children. I do not think I would be a good mother because I am distracted easily and am not overly fond of small children under the age of six. Except for Josh, of course. And that’s not just because I’m afraid of my sister.

6. I have never been arrested. I was, however, stopped by the police a couple of times. Both times took place when I worked for the Sub Shoppe and was on my way home from work. The first time, one of my co-workers was walking me home since my ride had cancelled on me. As we walked down the street, a police officer stopped us and demanded to know our names. He wanted us to give them in a particular order and told us to give him our first names. I provide him with mine and he writes it down. Then my co-worker gives him her name and he almost blew a gasket.

Police Officer (PO): What is your first name?
Co-worker (CW): Sandymae (fake name).
PO: No. Don’t give me your middle name! I want your first name! What is your first name?
CW: Sandymae.
PO: NO! I said give me your first name! Quit messing around! What is your first name?
CW: My first name is Sandymae. Would you like to see my driver’s license?

The police officer snatched the license out of her hand and was dismayed to see that, yes, Sandymae was her first name. She had not been “messing around.” After he finally gets our names written down correctly, he tells us that two boys were seen breaking into a restaurant and stealing cigarette packs from the vending machine. Did we have anything to do with this? Uh, no. Since we’re not boys and weren’t coming from the direction of the restaurant.

The second time I was stopped was when my ride had forgotten to pick me up; I had to call home and was waiting outside of the building when I saw my ride go by. I crossed the street but got trapped on the median by all of the cars passing by. The police officer that stopped me was wondering what I was doing. I explained to him that I was waiting for my ride since I had just left work. When my ride pulled up, the police officer started interrogating him, wanting to know if we had been in a fight. The Putz (as I affectionately called my roommate’s boyfriend), said “No. I fell asleep.”

7. I’ve never been to the United Kingdom. Two months ago, I would have written that I’ve never been to Europe but that was before Beth and I went to see Johnny last month. However, the plan is to visit the UK in a few years, after we go to Italy in 2007. Note to Beth, I spoke to Larry last night through Windows Messenger and he is possibly making a trip out to the Mall of America in October or November. His goal is to end up on your list of “In Real Life” friends.

8. I have never finished a novel. I have problems with this, I have a tendency to write a chapter and then overanalyze it and edit until there’s almost nothing left. It’s quite irritating. I have, however, published a poem in an anthology through www.poetry.com. I have the book. It’s very exciting (not really). One of these days I should start posting the novel I sort of am working on now and see what you all think. Maybe you could help me get over my need to critique myself.

9. I have never physically been in a movie. I did a voice over once with other students for Lakewood Community College but they had another people pretend to be us. I did do a lot of acting in high school and at my church and I miss it. I think that’s why I like karaoke so much. I get to be on stage again.

10. I have never run a marathon. Thanks to Rachel for helping me think of this. She’s looking at a muscle and fitness magazine right now because she thinks she needs to lose weight. Dear Internet, if you could see her, you would join me in laughing at her because she is gorgeous and the type of person I would hate if she wasn’t so damn nice.

This was fun. I feel no need to tag anyone to do this but if any of you wanted to, I would be happy to read it!

I am a dork

So I get off work at 4:30. Every day. I start at 8. I leave at 4:30.

Today I send Keem an email, telling her I was logging off. I read a magazine, finished that, talked to Rachel, started reading a book and can't figure out why Keem is still on the phone. What's going on?

And then Rachel asked me if I got off work early today. I look at the clock. It's 3:50.

I had to go to my boss and ask if I could use the hour of paid time off I won last month for having great quality in my calls. While he laughed at me. A lot.

Oh, well. At least I got time to catch up on my blog reading.

My Weekend O'Excitement

Yeah, it's long but it's about karaoke! That's always exciting!

On Saturday, Keem and I were going to clean my room. Believe me when I say it needs it. Keem keeps threatening to take pictures of it and blackmail me but, as I told her, that would be wrong. I was going to bring home a whole bunch of boxes that I’ve been collecting from work so I could a) put things away, b) go through boxes that have not been opened since we moved into our apartment (July 4, 2002) and c) throw some stuff out.

This did not happen. Why, you ask? Well, that’s because I am lazy. I hate to clean. I actually paid Jeff $200 (I think) to clean my room once. And he earned every penny. But, obviously, I did not keep it clean. I am not sure why I am so cleaning challenged, other than the fact that I find it extremely boring and I HATE to be bored, but I am. My greatest dream is that someday I will have enough money that I can afford a live-in housekeeper and cook. Oh, and a chauffeur because I’m probably not going to get a driver’s license anytime soon. And, hopefully, they will all be extremely good looking, buff, young men. Unless, of course, I have finally met my true love and have transcended above my need for the occasional eye candy.

Instead, Keem and I decided that we were craving hamburgers and drove out to Fuddruckers in Roseville. It was a nice day, so, after our meal, we decided to drive around. We headed down Grand Avenue where Keem resisted my urgings to stop at Restoration Hardware. Which is just as well, I am broke and I know I easily would have found something to spend money I couldn’t afford there. We eventually ended up at Rainbow Foods and went grocery shopping. I have not yet been able to figure out how we spent over $100, since we were just going “for a few things.”

After we got home and I took a nap, Beth came and got me and I went over to her place to scrapbook. I love scrapbooking with Beth; it’s a lot of fun. We listen to music, talk about random things and admire each other’s pages. After awhile, close to about 5 or 6, we decided to take a break and went to the living room. Beth began playing this horribly addictive game called “Same Game” which I fortunately do not have on my computer or would never accomplish anything. I continued reading my purse book (I also have a home book), the newest Mary Higgins Clark. We spent some time talking and finally, at about 7 or so, Beth decided she had tortured me enough and let me go to sleep. Beth and I work different shifts so it is difficult for me to adjust to her schedule on the weekends. I’m getting up for work about an hour after she goes to bed.

I slept on the “couch” in the living room (a trundle bed) and had a bizarre dream. I didn’t even recognize that I was dreaming. All I really remember is that I was trying to sleep and someone was in the bed with me, pushing me off. I landed on the floor and this person was on top of me, trying to smother me with a pillow. While trying to knock him off of me, I felt the top of his head and, from the horns I found, I was able to deduce that this was The Devil. Now, why The Devil wants me dead, I’m not sure. I thought he was quite happy being my fake boyfriend. After I don’t know how many minutes of terror, I opened my eyes and realized that I had been dreaming, was still on top of the bed and The Devil was not there at all. Whether or not we’re still fake dating, however, is another story.

Sunday, there was more scrapbooking and then the joyful, wonderfulness that is karaoke. Ah, karaoke, how we love you. I should seriously write an ode to karaoke someday. I’ll have to think about it. Part of the whole greatness that is karaoke is not about the singing. Yes, I like to sing. Yes, I like to try new songs and listen to other people sing. But the main part of the greatness that is karaoke is the regulars.

Anyway, Beth and I got there around the usual time but, since it’s starting to get brighter earlier, we were shocked to see that The Chalet sign is green! Green? What kind of color is that? Usually it’s dark when we get there so we had thought it was black. Then, proving that we’re all kinds of observant, I looked across the street and said “Hey, did you know there was a park over there?” Seriously. We had no idea. We knew Lake McCarren was there but a park as well? Bobby laughed at us when we told him these observations and warned us against the park, apparently it is a high crime area.

While waiting for Bryan to arrive, Beth and I killed time by listening to the music playing, watching the silent commercials on the televisions (which were weird and kind of funny but dang it, I can’t think of any of them now), cleaning out my purse (well, just me) and talking about random stuff. Bryan arrived and we started making fun of NASCAR. When Bryan started his vant about the flow chart used to decide what type of subject can be in your back window of your pick-up truck (apparently the choices are American Eagle (with or without tears), US Flag and Racing Flag), Beth and I both agreed he needs a blog. Bryan is a very laid-back, funny, intelligent man and it’s great counting him as a friend.

Since the day had been so nice, the thought was that karaoke would be slow. It wasn’t. A group of softball players showed up and filled up several tables. They were in the mood to sing and we had a good time watching and listening. Several of the women in this group thought it was imperative that they share with everyone at The Chalet their interpretive dance for many of the songs. My, this was enjoyable. At one point, Beth was hunched in her chair, trying to avoid the flailing arms and legs.

I glanced over and saw Ryan, one of the regulars but non-singer, make fun of the dancing girls by making a motion with his body in a Z-like formation. I started laughing and Beth wanted to know why. I demonstrated the motion for her but; unfortunately, one of the dancing girls saw me and told me to get out on the floor since I could move. I declined her kind request since a) I don’t dance and b) I was mocking them (or as Beth says, I was imitating someone who was mocking them).

Two guys who have been at karaoke a few times, Jason and Nick (I’m guessing that Nick is his name), were there again. They sang “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling” together. They’re really quite good and I remember Nick telling me that they were in a band. Jason later sang “Piano Man,” probably the only Billy Joel song I don’t care for since it’s usually a popular choice for drunks to sing. Jason, fortunately, was not drunk and did a great job with the song.

And then we come to the worst part of the evening. Remember my vant about the song “Picture?” Remember how much I hate this song? Well, Bryan betrayed us. This couple got up and completely butchered the song (because yeah, Picture isn’t bad enough). And after they finished, Bryan, looking mildly sheepish, allowed another couple to get up and sing it again. We had to listen to “Picture” twice! Twice! It was horrible.

Liz, Dean, James and Barry all came in, followed by Cassie and her husband (who we weren’t actually introduced to because it was loud and crazy and crowded). Beth and I tried the techniques flea mentioned on her blog (note, she was making fun of articles in O magazine) out on Dean. Here was the conversation.

B: Dean, that is a manly sweater you are wearing.
D (puzzled look): Thank you.
DM: Have I mentioned that you are brilliant in everything you say? Quite like John Wayne.
D: I’m not sure how to take that.
B: You are 100% correct.
D: Okay. I’m not supposed to know how to take that.
DM: Dean! Dean, I have a problem! I need your assistance! I have a problem… (I turn to Beth) I have no idea what my problem is.
B (Jumping to the rescue): We don’t know how to remove this cap from the pen.

Dean looks at us oddly, takes the pen and removes the cap. Beth and I fawn over him, telling him how strong and manly he is. He tells us that we are weird, or something to that nature. We then tell him about flea’s blog. He still probably thinks we’re weird but at least now he knows why.

Later that night, someone gets up to sing “Luck Be a Lady.” He is quite good, reminiscent of Frank Sinatra. The dancing girls are out in full force. I watch them for a moment and say to both Dean and James that this is not what I remembered from the musical (Guys and Dolls). We laugh about it, watching the dancing girls express themselves (if they were trying to express themselves as cheap, slut-like girls, they did a great job) to the music.

Michael stopped in to pay a visit. We were very excited since we rarely get to see him now. He works as a karaoke host on Sundays. I have tried to convince Beth that we should become karaoke hosts but she just laughs at me.

As always, the evening came to an end too quickly. The next thing we knew, Bryan was telling everyone to have a good night and to not drive drunk. Then he asked James to stand up and announced to everyone that he was getting married the next day (Monday). The softball crowd exploded with applause and hoots and hollers. James did a slight bow, a smile on his face. Beth and I were somewhat confused while the rest of our table also was smiling.

After the explosion of applause died down, I leaned forward and asked Liz “Who gets married on a Monday?” She laughs and said “It’s a joke. He isn’t even seeing anyone.” Apparently Bryan has done this before to mess with the crowds.

The majority of the people left, we stayed behind and got into a conversation with Liz about “The Profiler” and marriage. I’d only seen a few episodes of the show but I liked it so Liz volunteered to lend me the First Season of the show. I also asked when Liz and Bryan are getting married so I can do a wedding scrapbook. Liz told me I should ask Bryan if he liked “The Profiler” since apparently this is the only thing he tries to control. He hates the show and keeps trying to convince her not to watch it. I was also supposed to ask him when they were getting married because, as Liz said, not until he proposes.

Talk about evil looks. I was scared for a moment. Beth told him that she had never watched “The Profiler” and he told her that she got to sing either first or second next week, what ever she preferred. When I asked the question about them getting married, I told him I needed to do a wedding album. Liz told him that was the perfect reason and that’s what they could tell everyone when asked why they got married; because their friend Dana needed to do a wedding album (it is very cool having Liz call me one of their friends. Allow me to have a giddy moment here). That and so their dog wouldn’t be a bastard anymore and could hold his head up high in the neighborhood.

The night ended with Bryan telling us stories of things he has done to his friends who have gotten married in the past. It included kidnapping, forcing someone to stand on a street corner in camouflage with two left boots on and sing “Danger Zone” by Kenny Loggins. While we were extremely amused by his stories, in the car on the way home, Beth remarked “If I ever get married, Bryan’s not meeting him until the actual wedding.”

It was a great weekend and I hope you all had as much fun as I did. I’m not sure how you could though, since you weren’t at The Chalet with us. At one point, Beth and I sat there and thought about how great it would be if Johnny was there and calling us “Bloody Anglos” for liking karaoke so much. We miss Johnny.

Speaking of Johnny, we’re up to $44.80 in the BJTM fund. And I think Beth said she was up to almost $20. Keep up the clicking, folks, we’re getting there. Maybe not by this August but next year…well, there are pigs and cows and horses and crap-on-a-stick just waiting for Johnny to see them.

It All Started Because Someone Hated NABABNA

So I mentioned that today is my one year anniversary for blogging. Here’s how I got started.

As you know, I work for NABABNA (fake name for the large bank I work for). One Saturday night at work in the main call center, I was bored. Bored, bored, bored. I had remembered stumbling across a website a few weeks before that talked about how the website owner absolutely despised NABABNA (Put us on the same level as the Anti-Christ. I would link to their website but, of course, that would reveal what company we work for and that would just be wrong). In my boredom, I decided to see if I could pull up the website again so I could send the link to Beth (not that we would ever look at the website when we were working. That would be wrong). As I was searching through the results http://www.google.com/ pulled up, I stumbled across something that looked even more interesting.

I can’t remember why the site caught my eye. I can’t even remember whose site it was. But it was a list. Well, we’ve determined that I like lists and memes so I pulled up the site. If I remember right, the post (although I didn’t know that was what it was called at the time) was titled “An A-Z list of things I hate.”

I was intrigued. Here was some random guy writing about stuff. Anything that caught his attention. I started reading his archives. It was amusing. It made me start thinking that “Hey, I a) am really, really funny (and extremely modest) and b) love attention. What better thing to do than start a blog of my own?”

So that’s how I started blogging. This has been a great year and I’ve really enjoyed “meeting” new people and finding new blogs. It’s a lot of fun when Beth and I can have a conversation about someone who we have never officially met but express concern for something they are going through or find ourselves talking to our IRL friends about their blogs. Beth and I also had the joy and excitement of actually traveling to Portugal and meeting Johnny in real life.

And, hey, just for fun, here are some posts for you to read. Some of you are new readers and may not have had the great pleasure of reading them (hey, I was being sarcastic when I said I was modest).

My first post explained why my site is called Green Duckies and Other Tales of Dana.

Why I refer to myself as the Queen of the Universe.

A post about blueberries.

Two of my favorite karaoke posts, Beer Goggles 1 and 2

The vant about the song “Midnight At The Oasis.”

I hope you enjoy them! It’s been a great year, everyone. Thanks for being a part of it.

The links have been fixed. Thanks, Carol, for pointing out that there was a problem.

Lists (Thanks Mark)

I asked Mark for something to blog about as well. I love the lists he comes up with; they are a lot of fun to read. I had left the following comment on his blog:

Mark, I'm bored. I have nothing to write about. Challenge me. Tell me to come up with a list. Anything. I have to come up with something or else I'm going to start a rumble in the parking lot just for a story.

Here is his response:

Dana - since you have the most urgent need, I offer the following suggestions for lists...
People you most want to rumble with in parking lot.
People who most irritate you.
Book Titles I would like to see.
If Pamela Anderson were President...: (think of the possibilities with that list!)

If any of you have anything you’d like to know, or lists you’d like to see, please leave me a comment or send me an email.

People I would most like to rumble with in the parking lot. I’m going to combine this with people who most irritate me as well.

Now I am assuming that this will be a Jets vs. the Sharks type rumble (plus I have The Songs of West Side Story on iTunes and randomly hear the rumble song (which is just fun to sing to yourself)) and that I will get to have my gang with me (Beth, Keem, Matt, did you know we were a gang?).

I can picture it now. Beth will kick people in the head (she can kick high), I will weight one of Eddy’s toys (the bungee toy that I am using as a headband in my new profile picture) and use it as a chain, Keem will send Eddy after them (he loves her so much that he will be an attack cat) and Matt will…well, Matt’s kind of crazy. I’m not sure what he’ll do. Quite possibly he will throw them into Jell-O.

Anyway, the people I would most like to rumble with are as follows:

Ann Coulter. I hate her. I hate her with a passion. If you have ever read her column or website or even one of the transcripts of speeches she has given, you will realize that she is a) completely insane, b) a total bitch and c) she obviously hates women since she insists on saying that women are stupid and need men.

George W. Bush. Do we even have to ask why? Seriously? I support gay rights, he doesn’t. I believe that being a Christian doesn’t mean you get to judge everyone different from you, he does. I believe that it’s ridiculous that people are dying in Iraq; he continues to lie about our reasons for being there.

Anyway, I did not plan in turning this in to a political rumble so let’s move on.

Jennifer Lopez. I think she would be able to bring a challenge to the rumble, what with all of her dance moves and everything. Maybe she could bring her gang of annoying celebrities, Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson. I can see the choreography now!

Internet trolls – Those who think it’s okay to call someone names just because they don’t like someone’s political beliefs or their lifestyle. If you don’t like someone’s blog, don’t read it. Since I’ve been blogging, I’ve seen people called names for mourning the loss of their best friend, for being a lesbian, for being pro-choice and in my case, for being fat (and stupid since I wrote a post about not liking George W. Bush)). However, since most of the trolls are cowards and hide behind their anonymity, I’m not sure that there would be many to rumble with.

Matt’s ex-girlfriend, affectionately known as "The Twat." Known child abuser, manipulative bitch, all around loser. She should be smushed. And smushed good.

Okay, let’s move on to a lighter subject:

Book titles I would like to see:

Dana, Queen of the Universe – How she rose to power.
Any volunteers to write it?

How to lose weight merely by watching TV and blogging – No exercise, dieting, surgery or pills involved (Wouldn’t that be nice?).

I don’t care what they name the books, I just want to read them:

Carol’s book
Mark’s book
Johnny’s book about Uzi
Beth’s murder mystery that she has not finished
Anything written by flea

And the last list, If Pamela Anderson were President:

Our national anthem would be changed to "I’m A Blonde" by Julie Brown.
Mandatory viewing of all of her movies and television shows would be required or we would be jailed for treason.

Oh, hell, I can’t think of anything else. Oh well. This helped break the slump though. Thanks again, Mark!

What a man really wants

One of my favorite bloggers is flea. She is a brilliant and humorous writer. If you've never read her site, I recommend that you visit, if only for this post. She recently bought Oprah's magazine, O, and brings its wisdom to us, as only she can do. She also tried some of the suggestions on her husband.

I enjoyed this post so much that I have figured out a way to win the affections of Gil (Guy I like). I am trying to be subtle about the fact that I like him. But it is difficult since certain people (hmm, I wonder who could that be) keep bringing up the fact that "Oh, look, Dana has dressed up tonight" or "Oh, look, Dana did her hair" when there are perfectly logical reasons for me dressing up (Keem is doing laundry and I don't have any casual clothes to wear) or doing my hair (since I am trying to grow my hair long and it wants to grow wide instead of long, I have to blow dry it or try pinning it back or it looks horrible) that have nothing to do with the fact that I might possibly find this person interesting.

Here is the comment I left on flea's blog, my plan to convince Gil I'm the girl for him. Do you think it will work (if you haven't read flea's post, this will not mean anything to you. You should probably go read the post first)?

I see what my problem is, why I'm so single. Apparently I haven't been complimenting the guy I like on his manly sweater.

I can actually imagine the conversation now.

DM: Why hello, Gil, have I mentioned how powerful and moving in the way that you speak. Quite like John Wayne.
Gil: Some major movie mogul is a really bad guy (he's a nerd. Okay? I like a nerd)*.
DM: You are 100% correct (hoping he will forget that I hate the movie mogul's movies that he is referring to and could care less about how he is a really bad guy).
Gil: Okay.
DM: May I compliment you on your manly sweater?
Gil: Are you on drugs?

Yes! I can see it now! Why, I bet I'll be married next week! All thanks to W. Bruce Cameron and Oprah! And to you, of course, flea, for bringing their wonderful words to my attention.

*Thank you to Beth for pointing out that I completely gave myself away and had to edit creatively.

In answer to Johnny's question

Johnny asked how I got my hair to stick up like that in my newest profile picture but she went offline before I had the chance to answer her. So, I give you new pictures that will help explain.

I've been posting all my new pictures to What Is The Meaning Of Life. I may not have any new poems but I figure that my pictures are also my way of expressing myself.

So, in this picture, you will see my beloved cat Eddy playing with his beloved Keem.

And in this picture, you will see how I got my hair to stick up. Or is that my hair? You tell me.

Yes, I am a dork. Here's another picture to prove it.