Sesame Chicken Blues

Who am i kidding? I had NO idea what Sesame Chicken blues actually were until about 6 hours later.

Dodgeball anyone?

Employment is a beautiful thing. I'm still not a morning person but have managed to be on time and actually only slightly less than perky. Knowing there is a paycheck in my future makes it all the more bright. I'm on my 15 min break. Must take. I'd rather continue working, but you know how it is...pee, coffee, smoke! Whether you want to or not! Oh, you don't smoke? Well, thats ok, it won't hurt you to mingle and get some "fresh" air. Out ya go...hurry along now. This is where you come in early to find your supervisor smearing glue on her face. "Dodgeball is a special time, not just for you kids, but for Miss Lippy too! "

PS ~I met a pirate last night named Mick, drank some windex, and played a harmonica.

....ants marching

I am reposting this blog as a dedication to my lovely little friend Marie-Lisette.

I saw a big ant hill today. It made me think about ant farms.
Thinking about ant farms made me remember when I was a kid and my sister and I had one. It was cool back then...I think.
Which reminded me of my sister's pets that seemed to die a lot.
Which reminded me of a little girl I used to babysit. She had about 7 hamsters.
Not at the same time. They all unfortunately met untimely deaths.
The first one died of fright. Apparently they don't like being thrown in the air (go figure. but no one told the 6 yr old)
The second died of hamster cancer. I don't know.
The third was playing in the yard when it seized an opportunity to escape and disappeared forever under the fence.
The fourth died in a bathtub accident. She was bathing it and with fierce objections from me, a horrified onlooker, she swore it could hold its breath, does it all the time.
The fifth was eaten by a neighbors' dog during a most lovely tea party.
The sixth died during a school science project. I never got the full details.
Number seven never made it home. Something about a suicidal plunge out the window of a moving mini van.


Sette, you are my muse!

I once saw a five year-old still breast feeding in Wal-Mart.

Its funny how that happened to me about 7 years ago and yet the image is as clear as if I were still there.

In fact it pops into my head at the most unusual times.

I've asked God to erase it from my memory, but I think he wants me to tell people.

Its sort of like a UFO sighting. Nobody wants to believe you, but its so weird, it has to be true.

Ugh. Shivers again.

STOP LOOKING AT ME!

So I've officially been labeled immature.
Welcome to the club, right?
Could've been worse.
I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I'm not immature. Of course I am. We ALL are. We say to ourselves, "when I grow up..". What is grown-up? Making our beds without being asked, having a baby, voting for another "grown-up", owning a mortgage, watching R-rated movies?
I think grown-up is finally realizing that we peaked at age 12.
That's right. We may have the ability to operate heavy machinery, but acting a fool is never out of the cards. We put age limits on things so that teenagers and infants can't do them better and outshine us.
I guess you could say we have the upper hand on life experiences.
Sure. So what.
What have you really learned so far? Don't hold your pee until you wet your pants? Some of us haven't even learned that.
Citizens in my world; immaturity is around for the long haul. And I for one say fight fire with fire. Maturity is so over-rated.
The mature thing to do would be to ignore such childish behavior in prevention of falling for the ole' negative attention is better than no attention at all.
But let's face it, that's no fun....