the oregon trail applied to real life

Amanda: there's puke all over
Kelly: ford the puddle of puke!!
Amanda: yea, it was REAL oregon trail kinda stuff. i lost a wheel
Kelly: i can see the game version of this. YOUR OXEN HAS DIED
Amanda: yea, you never ever ford the river if its over 5 ft.
Kelly: your raft sank in the mississippi
Amanda: you just wait and pay for the guide for reals. don't get trigger happy on the oregon trail
Kelly: while you wait you get typhoid
Amanda: yea, or someone breaks an arm, always

Beannacht

"May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life."

~ From John O' Donohue's "Beannacht" (which is Gaelic for "Blessing")

a post inspired by The Shamana

The Shamana graced my email inbox this morning with a copy of some of the hilarious dialogue from "Failure To Launch." The character of Kit made the entire movie.

Kit:*snatches rifle*
Jim the gun shop guy: *stares*
Kit: What kind of bullets does this take?
Jim: That gun doesn't take bullets. You need shells.
Kit: Ok, then give me the shells.
Jim: Ok, one box of shells.
Kit: Oh no, I just need one.
Jim: You know, there are places you can call...
Kit: I'm not suicidal, I just want to shoot a bird.
Jim: What kind of bird?
Kit: A Mockingbird.
Jim: You can't kill a mockingbird!
Kit: Why not?
Jim: Well first of all theres the book "To Kill a Mockingbird..."
Kit: Copy of that too! Just put it right here.
Jim: It's not a manual!! It's a great work of American literature! How can you not know that? And anyway, its illegal to kill a mockingbird.
Kit: Oh yea? Well what about my rights? What about the first amendment?
Jim: The right to free speech????

someone take away their parenting license

Ok, you would not believe what I saw. Seriously. Or maybe I should say - you would not want to believe what I saw. I was at the Starlite Cafe with The Marquee, eating dinner, when I happened to look over at a nearby table and see a mother helping her baby drink from a beer bottle. A BEER BOTTLE. (!!!!!) Excuse me? What?! For about 2.5 seconds I gave the mother the benefit of the doubt . . . maybe the beer bottle was filled with water and she was just trying to freak people out . . . but then I saw the mother and father take a swig from the beer bottle after the baby was done. I'm sorry. Those people should not be parents. I wanted to go over there and yell at them for being incompetent, but The Marquee managed to convince me to stay in my seat. I know that I'm not a parent, but I like to think that I have enough intelligence to know that letting my 9-month-old baby drink alcohol probably won't win me the Parent Of The Year award and hell - could put my child in danger. Gah. The whole thing just infuriates me.

row ye on home, land yacht

There were a lot of people building arks today. But I, Imperial Majesty of All That Is, have my ever-regal land yacht ('95 Buick Le Sabre) to ford rivers (the James), valleys, raging oceans and tranquil, flooded streets. I have a plan if the downpours continue. Some of the plan involves saving humanity, but most of it involves floating in all my glory down the streets of Richmond.

Brilliant Plan Of Action:
(setting - Rain)

1) Backstroke to my parked land yacht (LY) and climb in through the hole that I will simultaneously burn into the hood with the cutting torch that I keep in my back pocket for occasions such as this.
2) Brush hair, re-apply lip gloss (A World Dominator must look good no matter what the crisis).

By this point, the LY is floating in the parking lot. I have attached flags to its four corners.

3) Get on my mega-phone and tell all of those people trying to swim to get out of my way, as I have business to do. I begin my journey with a regal wave out of the window.
4) I proceed to pick up my friends and favored advisors, as well as a few babies and stray animals along the way (good PR).
5) Pass around the bowl of chips and salsa to my three best girlfriends (who have secured a seat inside the LY). Check to make sure that my B-List friends are OK floating in the intertube attached to the back of the LY.
6) Float LY to town hall. Claim the city in the name of all that is Good and Just (aka, me). "Ride the wave" to Ultimate Power. (Haha, sorry, couldn't resist).

america's got talent?

Ok. There is only one reason that you should watch the new TV show "America's Got Talent." And that is because it is so ridiculously horrible that it's worth your time to cuddle up on the couch with a bag of popcorn and make fun of it the entire time.

Let's get right to the point. David Hasselhof. And yes, I don't care if I spelled his last name correctly or not. Why? Why does he exist? Why On God's Green Earth is he a judge?? What qualifies him for it? The incredible acting that was required of him in "Baywatch?" The sensational singing voice that he possesses? So sensational that his cd will be forever mocked by sensible Americans? Forget it if the Germans like him. There is no explaining that. Honestly, I think that I would be offended if I got up on that stage and Hasselhof told me that I had talent. I would cry. But just watching DH get "moved" by a performance or "jam" to a dance routine is worth its weight in gold. Although, I need to point out that you have to really pay attention to him because he's had so much plastic surgery that it's hard to determine his facial expressions.

Ok, next judge. Brandy, of "That Boy Is Mine" fame and "Moesha." Why, oh why Brandy are you coming out of hibernation? Oh . . . that's right, you have a cd coming out. Well, Brandy, let me give you some advice. Fire your manager because this is not a good career move on your part. Another downside/goodside is the fact that Regis Philbin is the host. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. *twitch* Anybody else weirded out by him nowadays? Maybe it's all of his plastic surgery (new nose?) or the fact that he seems to overschmooze champion schmoozers. Blech. And the last judge - an ornery male Brit. Surprise there.

Oh, I'm not done. The creators and producers of this show (*ahem Simon Powell*) must really think that there are no intelligent people in America. Seriously, are there any Americans on the creative side of this show??? Watching it, I thought that if I saw one more red, white, blue & star combination or color scheme I was going to be sick. Yes people, the stars and stripes are nice. On a flag. Hanging from a flag pole. But it really doesn't need to be shoved down my throat. I know that I'm American, thank you. Secondly, the show is some weird mix of The Price Is Right, Star Search and Family Feud. Regis Philbin calls people's names from the audience (excitement! who is going to be chosen!) and then those people come up on stage and do their shtick. And then if Brandy, Hasselhof and Ornery Brit don't like you, they can hit a buzzer and a big red X appears over the stage. Three X's and you are out, suckah.

If someone made watching this show into a drinking game, the nation would be perpetually drunk. I can see it now . . . "Take a drink whenever someone does something weird or you feel like you will never be clean again." I realize that the producers are going to put the best and the worst out on stage for the ratings, but man . . . you never realize the worse could really be so bad. An 80-year-old stripper. A saw player who looked like a vampire. 2 women, a man and a horse (yes, no one quite figured out what their talent was). A nose flute player. Ugh. I'm just going to stop there.

But it's so bad that it's hilarious, so I guess the producers found one way to get people to watch. Anybody interested in watching it with me next week?

frank and teakettle, bff

Teakettle: FWOOSHthud. Fwooshie . . . f-w-o-o-s-h-i-e . . .
Frank: I just slammed my head on the desk, too. A lot nicer in theory than in reality . . .
Teakettle: fwoooshiebangbangbang
Frank: Hmmm. Shooting each other. That might work.
Teakettle: fwOOOshdoomdrip . . . drip
Frank: Yeah, it would be a lot more messy for me. But I hate this outfit anyway.
Teakettle: foreverfwooshie
Frank: You want to publish your memoirs first? About what? Your scandalous time on the stove burner?
Teakettle: FWOOSHdunes!
Frank: Oh, I didn't know you braved the Sahara . . .
Teakettle: Fwooshburnfwooshiefire
Frank: . . . without sunscreen . . .
Teakettle: fwooshieaaaaaaah
Frank: . . . and then was the one to discover the soothing properties of aloe plants . . .
Teakettle: FWOOSHyukyukyuk
Frank: Yeah, sounds reeeally funny. Yeah. Real page-turner.