Yes, I know how to spell it. Now that we have all that cleared up, here’s today at random:

The 70’s were disgusting. Ugly and putrid. I remember. In fact, at the time I used to ask my mother why I had to wear orange corduroy’s instead of pink. (Orange is ugly, while we’re on the subject.) The subject is - the new Mustang. Gross. Take it back to the 70’s and leave it there. Saw one today and nearly wrecked my car.

The praying lady from last week’s blog wasn’t as bad today. As - ass, what’s the difference? Anyway, she didn’t pick on me so much, except that she came by and saw the picture I was painting from and said “Whoa, for a minute I thought that was your painting, and I was about to say that it was really looking good.” Now, that’s not so bad. Bad delivery, but not so bad in itself. She was rude to Doug again, though. He’s a kind man and usually puts out your easel and table for you if you are late. Well, she comes in and Doug, being left-handed, has put her table on the left side of her easel. What response did this invoke? “DOUG! I’m RIGHT handed!” Yup, she yelled it - but with a sardonic smile on her face . . .

Was listening to “Head Like A Hole” on the way home from I-HOP tonight and I had to laugh at how hard core I used to think it was. Now Lincoln Park is top 40 . . .

Is an opossum cute? Most people would probably blanch at the thought, but they didn’t see the one my husband almost ran over tonight. He hit the brakes just in time. When we stopped the opossum looked up at the head light like he had never seen such a thing and quizzically cocked his head in wonder. Then he started to go in front of the car and then shook his head as if to say “Nope, that won’t do”, turned around, looked up at the lights again “What is that confounded thing?” and then waddled back to safety. Befuddled opossums are cute. Now, as we turned the corner we encountered a raccoon, and the crafty little bugger shot off as fast as his little legs could carry him. So then the question: are raccoons smarter than opossums, or more chicken?

Interesting anecdotes of my day, from the top:

My ex boss. My ex boss is from China. He moved here in the 60’s so he no longer has an accent, but he still has the rythm and the speed. So he TALKS like This, do You know what I’m SAYING???!!! Anyway, we were on the phone this afternoon and he’s talk yelling at me (our conversations are one sided, I don’t have to participate other than “uh huh”) and in the middle of a sentence he yells at the top of his lungs “HOLD THE LINE NOW!!!!!!!!!”. He doesn’t await a response, he just puts the phone down. “My TEA KETTLE was whistling. HOLD THE LINE NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and off he goes again . . .

Ice Tea. I was at a favorite website this afternoon when I ran across their question and answer section. A woman was asking why Southerners mispronounce “iced tea”. This prompted the webmaster to make fun of us for the mispronuciation and various other things. I was greatly offended. First of all, it’s our word. Who do those Yanks think they are to tell us how to pronounce it? It’s like Eddie Izzard and the word herb. The English pronounce the H because “There’s a f*cking H in it.” Now, I realize some people spell it with a D at the end, but just as many people in the south don’t. Therefore, if we don’t want to pronounce the D, that’s fine, because half the time there isn’t a D to pronounce and it’s our word to pronounce how we want to. Ice freakin’ tea! Secondly, most of the time we don’t say Ice or Iced at all in the South because it should be assumed anyway! If I ask for tea there better be ice in it! What we do pronouce is the “hot” in “hot tea” because hot tea’s for the you know what’s.

Michael Moore. He disturbs me once again. Or wait - he disturbs me all the time. Before you freak out and stop reading because you think I must be some ultra conservative weirdo, let me say that I am moderate. Now, that being said, what I am about to talk about should be disturbing to hard core liberals as well. I was watching CNN this evening and it was reported that Michael Moore was turned down for a speaking engagement at a university because he wanted . . . $35000 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Can you believe it? The college president couldn’t when he received the contract. He pulled out immediately, stating that such an amount of money would be far better used on campus for other things. I would think that Mr. High and Mighty Moore would think so also, but no, he needs to line his pockets. I thought his image was supposed to be of a man who fights for the disadvantaged, but here he is wanting to charge a college $35000 for one hour worth of work that could be used to provide a disadvantaged student with any number of costs, or for the entire student body to increase the quality of their education. He’s such a hypocrite.

My father in law. Two weeks ago my father in law tells us that he has a fever in his back and that he may very well know what is causing it. Tonight my husband complains of a fever in his own back as we are getting in the car to drive home. My father in law says (I kid you not) “Hey, I passed that stone, do you want me to go inside and get it so you can see how it came out?”

With that, I leave you . . .

bold the states you’ve been to, underline the states you’ve lived in and italicize the state you’re in now…

Alabama / Alaska / Arizona / Arkansas / California / Colorado / Connecticut / Delaware / Florida / Georgia / Hawaii / Idaho / Illinois / Indiana / Iowa / Kansas / Kentucky / Louisiana / Maine / Maryland / Massachusetts / Michigan / Minnesota / Mississippi / Missouri / Montana / Nebraska / Nevada / New Hampshire / New Jersey / New Mexico / New York / North Carolina / North Dakota / Ohio / Oklahoma / Oregon / Pennsylvania / Rhode Island / South Carolina / South Dakota / Tennessee / Texas / Utah / Vermont / Virginia / Washington / West Virginia / Wisconsin / Wyoming / Washington D.C

The Sunday morning ritual in my house is Cracker Barrel. Inspiring, let me tell you. ‘First available’ women in their Sunday best stare me down in my sweats as if to say “You heathen woman with your cigarettes! You should be ashamed to show your face on the Lord’s Day!” It’s actually really annoying, seeing as I have a right to be in my section. I don’t ever venture into theirs.Back to the point, or rather on to it. Lately I’ve been yearning for church. Growing up I was there four times a week. Since I’ve been married I’ve been maybe four times in six years. I kind of miss it. So, I was telling my husband over breakfast that I’d like to go to church, any church. Well, I’m not big on Islam, or big budget, big production places. My husband said that he had problems with Christianity, problems with Judaism, and problems with Buddhism and so on so I said “Okay then, what about Unitarianism then?” In case you are unaware, the Unitarians study all religions with an emphasis on Christianity. Buddhists, Wiccans, even atheists are members.
From their website: Unitarian Universalists expect new scientific disclosures to cohere, not conflict, with our religious faith. We embrace the challenge and the joy of intercultural religious fellowship.
My thought was that if he had so many problems, maybe he’d like to explore them. I didn’t care as long as it was some kind of church.
Sean responds to my question “They’re like Agnostics Anonymous and I’m not yet ready to admit I have a problem!”
Ahhhhhh, Sunday mornings . . . .

From the desk of Psy_Guy.

I have taken over this blog for the moment to make a little speech. The only problem is that I can’t remember what it is I want to say. I’ve got images of the Gobbler running through my mind, and I’m wondering if I can ever get them out. It’s kind of like when you’ve been listening to music with your children…like, say The Wiggles… You try as much as you can, but the lyrics just keep running through your head. You keep wanting to sing…outloud…when your friends are here…regardless of their feelings. So… Before I begin singing I’ll sign off here and return control of your blog to it’s rightful owner.
Remember…
What is: Bad images of blue rooms and purple rooms and horrifying images of a very scary place.
What should never be: My singing a wiggles song for my friends!

Have a great weekend everyone!

-Psy Guy

Well, we’ve had some crappy weather in the McCormick house this week . . . Christie and Mary are visiting and it’s been a whole lot of frustrating to try and keep ourselves entertained. I feel terrible because this is Mary’s third trip to Texas and she still hasn’t seen much more than Galveston. We should be showing her a rip roaring good time and all we can say is “Who’ s for McDonald’s for dinner?” But things should perk up tomorrow because it’s PayDay. Yummy.
I had my painting class yesterday, and apparently I must be doing pretty badly because one lady (of course she’s the class nut job so I don’t know how upset I should be) comes up to me and looks and my painting and says “Jinny, maybe you should just go home and pray about it.” Arrghhh! What is that? Where is her internal sensor? Of course moments later this man in our class was singing (incredibly well I might add) “Singin’ in the Rain” and this woman says “Do you know what I’ve been singing in my head? (to the tune of I Wear my Sunglasses) I wear my earmuffs in class so I can so I can block out Doug’s singing”. How awful is that?