My Kind of Crack

I just wanted to announce to the world that I just looked through a bunch of Partylite stuff and felt completely and utterly compelled to buy...NOTHING.

I think I've grown financially. :)

O.o.O. (Out of Order)

Good Lord, I'm so sorry to disappoint all two of you out there who read this regularly. I've got a number of posts started, but not completed. I was hoping to get to them while on vacation in Florida, but vacationing with My Dear Trish, her husband and two small boys? Well, silence is a RARE commodity, and I need a measure of it to be able to write something that looks like I contributed my complete attention to it, instead of looking like I was watching TV while blogging. Please be patient. I promise once I'm home (this weekend) and after I've slept off the effect of instant parenting, I will feed your useless need for many posts to come. As much as I'm hoping I can just return to the Northwoods, hop on my Freaky Tiki and go ride off in the 60 degree weather, I just read that it's snowing up there now and it looks like my energy will need to be directed elsewhere. Bummer. For me, not you.

She Who Must Be Obeyed

Happy Birthday Momma.

You have taught me many things. The most important advice that you ever gave me is be who you are and let no one change that. I hope this day was a lovely one indeed, and I wish you a buttload more to come. :D

She Was Sesquipedalian...A Lot

About a month ago, a bunch of us riders made the 20 minute trip to Menomonie to listen to Turd's band. A carload or two of us met up at a fellow rider's house for pre-gig snacks and conversation. Brother, Anya and I rode up with E and his girlfriend, whom I believe E called "Killer" at one point. Killer is a sweet, very pretty young lady who cracks me up at how unfiltered she is. She isn't rude, she just doesn't hold much back. I can appreciate that; it's a refreshing change from that whole, "What are you thinking?" silliness. Also? It means I'm not a lone female wolf in the pack full of less secure women. Who cares what they're thinking anyway??

So we're sitting in the kitchen, stuffing our faces with some good eats and seemingly out of the blue, Killer called me out about my big vocabulary.

Killer: "You like to use big words."
Me: "I...what? Sorry." I'm all embarrassed.

She just pointed that fact out where everyone else around me, never, ever seemed to take the same notice quite so to-the-point. So, I dwelled on it for a number of days afterward. Why do I use big words? In the spirit of the impending St. Patrick's Day, my list o'reasons:

• My high school vocabulary books were the only homework I enjoyed doing. Yes, I waited until 10 minutes before English class each time to do the vocab homework, but it was still my favorite. Even now if I happen to see a Reader's Digest, I'll flip to that word quiz (I'm sitting in a bar at Big Powderhorn updating this...the name is escaping me) and bomb through it.
• I absolutely, positively CANNOT do math. That's one of the reasons I take my brother out for dinner so often...I make him figure the tip. I enjoy his company, of course, and it's with great ease that makes me laugh till steak comes out my nose.
• Common, everyday speech becomes so boring, rarely used words make conversation more colorful.
• The big words just stick in my head, like all the useless information I file away for later use.
• Sometimes, they're just funny in the right circumstances. Especially when you're trying to describe a bodily function.
  

So, I'm coming out of the big word closet, here and now. I love the way they flow out of my head and across my oft-stumbling tongue. I LOVE USING THE BIG WORDS! Everybody knows if you find you enjoy something, you tend to excel at it with seemingly little effort. You may think I use big words to impress you or maybe it makes you think I'm a snob, but that's not the case. If it were, I probably wouldn't be able to back the usage up with a proper definition. And nothing's funnier than someone using the wrong big words. I just enjoy using them bigguns. When you decide to call me out, I'll do my best to not take umbrage at your servile proclivity, you varlet.

Artificial Albums #2 & #3

Psychic Readings by Kuj

I'm binding books today at work, which allows for much thinking because, other than focusing on "don't crush your fingers in this medieval, Teutonic device," there isn't much going on in my head. A song playing on our radio reminded me of a spectacular precognitive moment I had a number of years ago.

Back in Illinois, when I was relaxing with friends post-work at Friday's, indulging in a Captain and Coke and playing some trivia, my dad called from the Harley 100th Anniversary rally in Milwaukee.

Fahjah said, "We're sitting here in a big field, awaiting the surprise headliner. We're so far from the stage, they've got a Jumbotron set up so we can see. We're taking suggestions on who the mystery headliner is. We've got Aerosmith, The Eagles, Bruce..."

I was MUCH angrier those days (happily that has changed some since I moved north), and my answer was, "It's probably going to be Elton John."

Fahjah: "Dawwww...you think?"
Me: "Well, what says 'Surprise!' at a Harley rally, THE Harley rally, than an old, English gay with a penchant for stupid sunglasses?"

We say goodbye and I'm back into my drink and my trivia. After a half-hour or so passes, my cell phone rings again. It's...my dad.

"So," he said, "the band starts into some long, low notes and it suddenly hits me, Jesus this is 'Funeral For A Friend!' Son of a bitch! IT'S ELTON JOHN! It was a mass exodus. A bajillion-strong leather-clad orange-and-black wave of departure. They even opened up the VIP section to everyone. I think someone's getting fired on Monday."

I'm wondering now that I've been reminded of this, if there isn't a career out there for me in predicting corporate downfalls and stock market fluctuations, assuming I gave a crap about either of those. Hey, Trish, that kitten heel on your left shoe needs a looking-at... Might as well throw a prediction out there. If I'm wrong, hey, at least Trish will have a quick opportunity to admire her own shoes...