We'd make a great couple

What the heck?

My weeners!

I have to say, I was overwhelmed with self-validating smugness with the quality of definitions I received for my goofy word contest. What an intelligent, interesting and witty group of people read my blog! Listen...you can hear the soft pat-pat of the giant hand patting my back right now. I truly am a magnet for humor, intelligence and excellence. As I say, excellence pervades.

So...with no further ado, here are the winners!!!

Pendulous: WWii Guy!! You win because, as Melissa’s definition proved, a certain 28-day biological factor can turn women into "being evil and conniving on a grand scale." And yes, I’ve actually been told I have an "aura of evil" when Aunt Flo visits. By the mudder. Hmph.

Bulbous: DCvR!! "Beauty concealed" is not only succinct, but it touches me personally. I often think I have some bulbous beauty at least partly concealed. And so does a certain elderly lady who attended one of Chantze’s little league games.

Refrain: Amenaza Uno!! "Refrain" is often "the antithesis of my actions," as well. While it is a near-perfect rendering of the true definition, it was done with style and grace. Kudos, my main man. (I give myself runner-up for this term, since Shortensweet used my infamous Balderdash definition for refrain. I love myself.)

Titan: I really struggled with the weener for this word. Among top picks were Melissa’s for "Favorite nickname men use to identify 'the little guy,'" the Dad’s "When your belt gets too loose" and Shortensweets "the word found on a board that washed up on shore a few decades ago." And who could forget DCvR's endearing nod to a favorite childhood pet - "gone but never forgotten." Even worse, I would have to choose between my best friend, one of the few loyal posters to my blog, my brother or my sister. Therefore, I’ve decided...it’s a draw! You are ALL weeners!

And finally, I am honoring The Mudder for being the brave soul who got the whole thing off the ground with her quite funny definitions. Her definition of "pendulous" set the stage for the humor that followed. I don't think I will ever think of the female milk glands again without "pendulous" running through the ol' noggin.

For a good laugh, click the link to my Daily List. I’ve posted all the definitions (and the authors!) there.

A bientot mes copines,
Moi

P.S. True to my word, each winner is given the heady privilege of writing an article to be posted on my blog. You can direct your rightfully-given posts to my email address: LJWpsci1228@hotmail.com. Love you all, you weeners!

Oh, the drama!

Goodbye, Cincinatti, I shall visit you in my dreams. Literally. Due to unforseen viciousness on the part of my not-so-newly-divorced-yet-quite-vengeful ex-husband, I will NOT in fact be making my ever-so-longed-for trek to Cinci. I shall instead be forced to stay here and continue to overwhelm you with the conundrums that issue forth of my often-quizzical little head. Hm. I like the strung-together adjective descriptors. Just learned how to do that in my journalism class. One day you shall read these things in the New Yorker. Or not. Perhaps they will not appreciate my strung-together descriptors as much as my fans here in the good part of the world.

I have WONDERFUL news! I have determined the weeners in my goofy word contest! Unfortunately, I do not have the information quite at hand. You see, a funny thing happened to the secret envelope containing the names of the winning entries. It all began when…

A tsunami erupted on my voicemail after a pleasant two hours thinking ‘I absolutely ADORE her!’ Fifteen rapid-fire verbal exchanges revealed a most horribly disturbing error on the part of a gifted sensualist. Discovering the egregious mishap brought dissonance and confusion where once harmony was reported to have reigned. Eight rapid-fire verbal exchanges then revealed a lack of character, a preemptory rush to judgement, and continued waffling. And I quietly pumped a tank full of gas before packing a box of kitchen gadgetry. And that, you see, is why I do not have the weener’s names at hand. However…you can look here tomorrow to see if You have been crowned the Weener of them All.

Much love,
-L.

Cinci, ho!

Ok, I can't spell it. But it's official: I am heading to the land of the place where people can spell "cincinati." I admittedly cannot, but it does not dim the halo of intelligentsia hovering about my incongruous head. Genius is as genius does.

So, Saturday marks the day of my impending cross-state drive to embark on what will hopefully be a fiscally rewarding venture. Adventure. Melissa promises that if I bring my blender, she'll put it to good use. Me like-y!

Which brings me to a point of consternation. I must give up the closely-guarded secret of who has been chosen weeener of my goofy word contest. However, before I can render up a winner, I must give WWII Guy a chance to join the fun. But he must hurry! Time is (gratuitously) running out.

Ever and anon,
-L.

Te-Diem

Picture the antithesis of Carpe Diem.Or picture me spending a day pretending it's not today (yesterday, actually), but rather another day a month ago, or a year ago. Yeah, more like another day a year ago. Back before I had homework and deadlines and any place in particular to go or to be at a certain time. Picture me spending a day trying not to think all the thinks best left unmet lolling about my unsightly head. That was Saturday for me. I spent part of the day dissecting The House of Flying Daggers for no good reason, and then later, I investigated The Liberator. My recommendation is not to investigate The Liberator if you are A.) single or B.) celibate. Just let it be.

But my waste-of-a-day yesterday has me thinking about the nature of procrastination. What is the purpose of procrastination; where does it come from, and why do we indulge in such a self-sabotaging behavior? I think it boils down to avoidance. We avoid what we don't like, what we don't want to face. Right now I have some BIG things I'd rather not face, rather not find time for in my life. I'd prefer that life would stand still and I could exist in that hypersleep state like in the Aliens movies. Just wake me up when the mean-and-nasties are gone. A bientot, ma copine.

But no! Life does not allow us to channel surf the boring ads of life; it does not allow us to TiVo the moments we were too busy to notice; it does not allow us to scene select the good stuff and leave the gore alone. No, we are forced to experience it all, every damn moment of our lives.

I, for one, cast my vote for procrastination-avoidance. I mean, if life doesn't give us the option of picking and choosing our moments, the least it should let us do is postpone them a little. Especially those gory ones. Garsh.

Credit Where it is Due

You may have noticed the picture of the incredibly chic looking woman with the sunglasses and rockin' cool pimp hat on my blog. C'est moi. My dear brother, Daddy boy, is the responsible party for the graceful presence of my mug on this blog (and any blog I subsequently post to). He did an awfully great job, didn't he? Of course, the aesthetic excellence merely exudes from my features….he just made it happen. Still…thanks are in order. So I comply.

Also, I have big news….our own friend DCvR has a blog. I have yet to check it out (since, as those of you who know me know I am TERRIBLY busy right now), but I hear it is full of fabulous photography by our friend! Please check it out. DCvR, if you would, please post the http in the comments so my readers can easily access it.

Finally, I may be making a cross-Michigan trek to Cincinnati for the summer, as my employment options here are few and far between. However, I will be residing in the home of the blog maven herself, Melly, which may mean more frequent postings for my fans. But, then again…it may mean the same intermittent application of fingers-to-keys as you have been privy to heretofore. But, maybe by just being near her, some of her passion, caring and intensity may rub off on me, resulting in blog posts that actually mean something to the great, big world out there. But…then on the other hand, how would that further the cause of narcissism? Perhaps it would be better if she just let the chaos on my blog continue. Sorry, Melly. I guess I'm hopelessly mired in my own self-indulgent fantasies here.

Speaking of self-indulgent fantasies, have you checked out the Bro's four word definitions? The Mad Cinci Duo made wit-worthy entries, as well. They are worth the read, so check my comments on previous blogs. Keep looking here – I'll be announcing the winner soon. Well, pretty soon. Sometime.

Love always,
My excellence

Dear Readers

I have had only two submissions in my goofy word definition contest, a feeble display of loyalty, I must say. Now, unless I have more entries, I have the difficulty of choosing my mother as winner, in which case I could be accused of favoritism, or disappointing the mother by choosing the definitions of the unknown poster to my blog known only as DCvR. Not a good position for your gifted writer to be in.

Perhaps the problem is a lack of motivation. After all, my own mother scoffed at the idea of me writing her a poem. So, I am going to up the ante. Due to the low morale evidenced by the lack of response and disparaging comments regarding my former offer of a prize (and by my own mother, no less), I am declaring a new prize for the winner!

The new winner of my goofy definition contest can PUBLISH to my BLOG!

Yes, they too can be a published writer on the world's only blog dedicated to spreading the joy of narcissism! Do not underestimate the unique niche occupied by this blog in today's belly-button inspecting, over-analyzed society. No where else will you be encouraged to brag, feel so damn good about yourself you could do cartwheels, give everyone else a piece of your superior mind and tell everyone else how to improve their sorrowful little lives all in one witty and devious little post!

So, don't delay, dear readers. I am going to pull the plug on this bane-of-a-contest quite soon. So, get busy!

Love,

your (somewhat) dedicated writer

RX for the Star Wars Blues

Last week marked the end of an era for millions of light phaser-toting, drab garb-wearing, fake asthma-breathing Star Wars fans. As the faces of Natalie Portman and Ewan McGregor passed between living walls of screaming fans at the premiere of the final Star Wars episode, I breathed an audible sigh of relief. Goodbye, Luke. May the Force be with you. And good riddance.

As a rather detached observer happily staking my claim on the sidelines of science fiction frenzies nation-wide, I watched the glut of media reports with quiet disdain. Although the whole concept of good people battling darker forces has its appeal, I find myself continually amazed at the lengths to which fans will go to declare their allegiance to the Force.

I heard a radio interview of one guy who'd been camping out in front of a California theatre for weeks so he could be twelfth in line to buy his ticket on opening night. I'm sorry, but all I could think of is, why couldn't he just wait and go the next night? I mean, he'd have to quit his job to do something like that!

Then, there was an old acquaintance of mine, grinning from the front page of a local newspaper, sporting his $500 and three-weeks-in-the-making Star Wars costume. I wish I still had his number. I have a really good use for that $500.

Obviously, I just don't get it. I'm not with the Force or on the light side or whatever it is Luke was always blathering about. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate one aspect of the Star Wars insanity. I can say I do appreciate the laughs in what would otherwise be more boring news about Iraq, the falling dollar and how business professionals can't get hired, but there are plenty of jobs in the service industry. Enough of that crap. Bring on the crazies.

But seriously, perhaps now that we have walked a mile in ol' Darth Vader's shoes, and have a sense of kinship with him despite the pure evil he became, we can happily go on about the more pressing business of American life.

So, for those die-hard fans hoping for the resurrection of Star Wars fantasies on the small screen, I thought I would indulge myself with some suggestions of how you can pass the time until the next blessed event.

*Invent a recycling process for the millions of Star Wars' Happy Meal toys that will be discarded a few weeks from now. There are people dying for want of an alternative energy source, you know.

*Create a living monument to the Star Wars tradition with the thousands of people who would rather quit their jobs than go see Star Wars the night after opening night. They could hold placards that read: "The Force will be with you if you let me work for food."

*Write a screenplay about a young man who saw the first Star Wars movie, became inspired and then grew up to fight the forces of evil in the world. Call it, "Mr. Bush Goes to Washington."

*Finally, if none of these ideas appeal to you, there is one last resort: Move out of your parent's basement, get a job, and instead of spending money on bills, save it for the special edition DVD collection likely to hit stores by Christmas. The Force knows, George Lucas' will need every dime of it to cover his special effects bills.

Procrastination - It's What's for Dinner

I think I'd like to start a new series on my blog entitled: How to find joy in everyday procrastination. Truly, I doubt life would be as innnnnnnteresting without all the last-minute panicking. Now, I know several of you are sagely wagging your heads thinking this is just another bloated, self-aggrandizing example of the way in which my life excels. Not true! I'm putting this out there to show that procrastination that doesn't actually entail procrastination brings a much needed lift to an otherwise humdrum day. Not possible, you say? An example, you ask? Your wish is my...well, it's a suggestion.

About six weeks ago I was at a client site with my sometimes boss, Loyd or Eddie. This was my first time out to this client's business, so we were doing the glad-hand and making all nice-nice...when suddenly I realized it was 4:15!!!!! I was an hour away from home!!!! And my children would have been crying and whining and scratching at my back door for the last 30 minutes since they arrived home to find.....their mother missing!!!!! I gasped! I looked around in panic! I started five exclamatory sentences and breathed in and out rapidly!!!! My eyes were round and protruding, people were dialing phones, alarm bells were going off in people's heads as they twirled their finger around their ear while I was busily exclaiming about my POOR CHILDREN!!!!!! Luckily, I had just the week before made child care arrangements, and had I just taken one quiet little moment to think about it, I would have realized that they had been picked up by the babysitter approximately four times since said arrangements had been completed. Oh, DUH-UH!!!! Furiously backpedaling, I tried to explain how the girls had been instructed to go to the Stone's house if they ever arrived home and I wasn't there, so all was not lost anyway. Which only begged the question: why would such arrangements be necessary in the first place? Judging by the nervous laughter and sidelong glances, I doubt a soul existed at that client site who had one iota of faith in my parenting - or business - skills. Well, forget that part. Just focus on the excitement of the non-procrastination procrastination panic. That's the point.

Ain't it great to have me back?

A Very Few Regrettable Things

I have received several emails from fans asking what has happened to prevent me from regaling you with my special brand of humor as of late. Completely caught up in my own life, I had downgraded you all as a non-priority. But no more! I realize I have an obligation to Keep My Promise: making life good for you through examples from me. So…finding it befitting a person of excellence to be completely open and honest, I thought I would enlighten you regarding a few of the more regrettable things about my personality. You may decide if it dims the sheen of my halo.

1. I sing the guitar solos in all my favorite rockin songs. I know, I know...shameful. A habit I acquired during my brief tenure as Dork in Residence. So far the hypnosis hasn't eradicated it, but I'm sure to strike on a cure soon.
2. I have been known to do my nails as I drive down the street. Priorities, people. If I die, I can't do it with cracked, chipped nail polish.
3. I spit my gum out my window going down the road. I like to shoot it out high and far-I can really make that thing fly, even when whipping down the road at 55 MPH. Often, I hope the people in cars around me observe my trajectory with awe and wonder.
4. While doing that, I once spit it out the passenger window from the driver's seat and missed. OK, it was last summer. Apparently it landed inside the well of the door handle. My boyfriend pointed it out to me as he was getting out of my car, and I did what any normal, intelligent woman would do in such a circumstance: I blamed it on my children.
5. Another odd car-related behavior is that I often have epiphanies behind the wheel. Whether I am overcome with regret, sadness or joy, it often results in erratic driving behavior. Look, if you see me on the street, just get away. It's really better if you do.
6. I have a deep-seeded mistrust of that guiding light known as "common sense." Whatever my instinct tells me to do, I usually do the opposite. Perhaps that sheds a little light on the interview with myself. J Thanks, James.
7. I constantly shed hair. OK, that may not be a personality quirk, but it adds to the overall package.
8. I make great first impressions, but rarely good long-lasting ones. Hmph.
9. I AM INCONSISTENT. Sort of on purpose. It adds to the genuine intrigue that surrounds my life.
10. I am not a high maintenance woman, but I do expect complete and utter devotion from my friends, family, people that love me. It's not that I think anyone owes me anything. It's just that you should give it to me. Kind of like ownership by proxy. If you have it and I need it, don't you think you should give it to me? See, it just feels good.
11. OK, that last one was meant to be facetious. Except that everyone will say it's true. C'est ca.
12. I say I'm open, but I'm not. I say I like people, but I don't. I say I'm funny, but I'm not. Don't listen to anything I say. Well, except about the whole excellence thing. I'm right about that.
13. Here's another thing. I'm one of those people that speak with absolute certainty and authority, but am often wrong. But I'm very good about admitting it.
14. I don't lose my keys, my purse or anything I'm carrying. I don't lock my keys in my car. I don't forget things. But occasionally I do one or all of these things. Part of the intrigue thing.
15. I have been known to turn the wrong way on the same street three times in a row. Return home up to three times for forgotten items in the same morning. Find three left shoes, no rights. And I've been known to bounce three checks in a row. Three is my lucky number.

Oh, I could go on like this forever. It's such fun. But you get the idea. I hope I have inspired you with a few ideas of your own. Have fun being intriguing, inconsistent and just a little bit dorky. People will love you for it, too.

Day by Day

"Day by day the sun comes up. Day by day the sun sets in it's pink home. Day by day the night falls. Day by day morning sets high amoung trees and flowers. People sleep tight in thair beds. Then wake by day. Sun light falls down on all living things. Day by day the children play. Laughing singing side by side. Vowing never to leave. Day by day. The night lay like a fat lasy person who never deos eneything. But day saves us when we think we can't make it. So I say day by day."
-Anna Grace, 9 years old

Hollow Spirituality

"Hollow, where ya been, ya old coot? We were fixin' to draw straws on who has to tell poor Lurlene her old man's done gone and lost h'self for good," Thurm shouted as Hollow rounded the corner of the garage.

"Well, don't let me distract you gentleman from doing your duty to God and man! Go on now and do what you have to do," Hollow replied with his usual savoire faire.

The men all burst out laughing, and Yellow Todd got up to give Hollow the good seat, a broken-down kitchen chair in the shade. As the chief weaver in the craft of tale spinning, Hollow was always given his due respect.

"Come on, Hollow, you promised to tell us about that cow tippin' in the prayer meetin'!" shouted Wilford.

"Now, give 'im a chance to get settled!" Thurm scolded. "Here's something cold for ya, Hollow. Water yer throat before ya dry it out keepin' us fellas entertained!"

The men cracked jokes while Hollow just smiled quietly. Waiting his turn to speak, he delicately removed the top to his home-grown wine with only his thumb and forefinger, then spun it out into the grass. Holding his drink high with his signature blessing, "Lord, I thank Thee for all Thy bounty," Hollow took a long, slow drink. The group recognized their cue and settled down expectantly.

"There are moments in the pulpit when Time seems to hold its breath and it's as if you feel the pulse of God in your head, pressing on your brain...forcing your thoughts into order. The clergy call it the Annointing. For me, it was awakening. As if the door of Heaven had creaked open a sliver and my eye alone beheld the glory of God.

"The awakening never came often enough or stayed long enough for my liking. Marching out of cadence with the Spirit seemed to be my specialty. It's not that the annointing didn't fall. No, it was there all right, like ants at a picnic or mosquitoes in the summer time. I just couldn't seem to get my fill of it. When the annointing would depart, I'd ignore the hint and carry on, grasping for another glimpse of perfection. And that's when things usually took a slide.

"On the particular evening in question, the annointing had fallen like dew from Heaven, covering the just and the unjust alike with its crystallized intensity. I don't think I'd ever experienced such a presence...so thick. As if I could reach out, envelope it, draw it close. God was there.

"And when He departed it was as if my soul had been ripped out of me, leaving a barrenness so profound as to drive every thought from my head. It was the contrast, you see. I couldn't bear it. I went into a sort of frenzy. Started screaming, 'Get in line! Get in line! The Lord is gonna heal you tonight!'

"Truth is, I didn't have an inkling of what to do next. I'd never healed anyone. I guess I was hoping that what with the flurry and rush of expectation, the annointing'd have to come back.

"Meanwhile....the people! Like lambs to the slaughter they pressed forward in the overwhelming anticipation that absolutely sparkled along the ends of our nerves. Like water flowing down a drain, the people flowed from their seats into the center aisle of the meeting tent. The line began to form so thick and long, about four people wide and stretching way out the door. God bless 'em, they didn't have any more sense of the spiritual than a tomato worm. Arms held high, eyes squirting, they couldn't even see what was coming.

"I stepped up to the crush of bodies at the head of the line and layed my hands upon two foreheads. I began to pray with all the eloquence of King Lear himself, invoking the God from on high to send a mighty wind of the Spirit to blow through our tent and tear down the strongholds of the flesh.

"In all my gusto, I must have accidentally lost my balance and leaned into those foreheads. Suddenly, those two began to sway. They grabbed for the poor dupes next to them to steady themselves. Unfortunately, having their eyes closed and all, it took 'em by surprise, upset their balance and their arms flew up. It was like poetry in motion: a thick, tight column of human dominoes began to go down in front of my unbelieving eyes.

"And do you know, they thought it was a miracle?! They thought it was that great wind from Heaven flowing from my mouth that blew them over! They congratulated me and began praising God for my gift! No one questioned it.

"That's the funny thing about spirituality. Most everyone in that line was taken by surprise and knocked over. There wasn't a soul there that didn't wonder whether it was God or man pushed 'em over. But no one questioned it out loud. Didn't want to look like a Pharisee. Doesn't take much for one Believer to turn to another and say, 'Get thee behind me, Satan!'

"As I stood struck dumb in amazement, they started praising. Why didn't anyone ask? I was waitin' to tell 'em. That day I became a fraud. I did it because I wanted to believe it was God who touched me with a gift that had blown out over the people. But it wasn't. It sure wasn't.

"All this and yet...I know that deep down they were jus' wantin' a little of what I'd experienced. They just wanted God to love on 'em a little bit."

Soft Underbelly Exposed

I’m just sittin here.
sittin here with a kitten on my neck
wonderin what i will do with my life
and wonderin how old you have to be
to be too old to start over....
so i sit here, feelin soft kitten fur
as i run my chin along its back
and wonder if life is still around the corner
like it was ten years ago.

i remember feelin free;
invincible as youth always is
as i am sittin here.
sittin here with a kitten on my neck,
rememberin what it was like to be strong
as my innards tremble
like the kitten on my neck....
So fragile, so weak, so natural
not runnin, playin; still nursin.

some say that life is happenin
as i’m just sittin here
sittin here with a kitten on my neck.
but i say life is sittin here
and wonderin and feelin and rememberin...
sittin here with a kitten on my neck
touchin soft fur that comforts the part of me
wishin for answers and youth and peace....
just before i stand and put the kitten down.

Pimp My Blog

Hey, how do you like my new blog mission statement (the one in green). I think it is a more accurate statement of the purpose of this blog. After all, genius and perfection are nothing if not currency meant to better the world at large. Thus, I spend mine on you.

While I am bettering your life, I must tell you - no, insist - that you go straight to the Harbor Theatre and see "Bride and Prejudice." (For those fans who do not live in our quaint little backwoods city, get it on NetFlix.) It is a two-hour phantasmagoria of color, music, romance and intrigue coupled with pulse-pounding song-and dance numbers and a sort of tongue-in-cheek humor that makes it easy to laugh and enjoy. At $5 a ticket, it is slightly more than what you are used to paying at the Harbor, but it is worth every penny. You'll not only be watching a great movie, but you'll be supporting a new business. How cozy is that?

Finally, I'd like to encourage my dear readers to invest a little time in the blogs listed at right. Both written by dear friends of mine, the blogs are intelligent, witty and have important things to say. Well, they try to compete with me, but I don't mind. Anyhoo, you'll love me for it.

Love, your mentor,
moi

A Peek into the Depths

Oh, I am so totally busted. My friend, Miss Lisa, sent me a link to a "romance quiz." This quiz asked questions I wouldn't have whispered into the eagerly awaiting fuzz of my pillow! However, since her quiz came back 100% accurate, I decided to give it a shot. And be completely, completely honest. Ouch.

So, here is the result. I am sharing it with you, dear readers, so that you know that even perfection can be vulnerable. Again, my only motivation is to encourage you that you too may someday reach the pinnacle of existence, the place where excellence abides. Where I live.

Romantic Personality Type: The Sonnet
Description: Deliberate Gentle Love Dreamer (DGLDf)

Romantic, hopeful, and composed. You are the Sonnet. Get it? Composed?

Sonnets want Love and have high ideals about it. They're conscientious people, caring & careful. You yourself have deep convictions, and you devote a lot of thought to romance and what it should be. This will frighten away most potential mates, but that's okay, because you're very choosy with your affections anyway. You'd absolutely refuse to date someone dumber than you, for instance.

Lovers who share your idealized perspective, or who are at least willing to totally throw themselves into a relationship, will be very, very happy with you. And you with them. You're already selfless and compassionate, and with the right partner, there's no doubt you can be sensual, even adventurously so.

You probably have lots of female friends, and they have a special soft spot for you. Babies do, too, at the tippy-top of their baby skulls.