It's A Lollipop World

Dark, Exhausted, Stalked to Death, Sorry, and Straight From the Heart

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 06:49:00 +0000

No centered paragraphs, no funny pictures, and my first time ever blogging from my iPad, so you'll have to bear with me if the post looks weird or anything.

Last I wrote here, I was headed to sunny Florida to see my uncle who was battling cancer, excited (to see him & be there w/ him), being myself..... And In DENIAL.

Once I got there & realized the reality of the situation, sat with the hospice nurses, heard the phone call from the doctor giving him a few weeks, everything instantly changed in me, right there, forever.

Less than two weeks after getting home & winding down, the universe took from me the greatest person I ever had, or had known. The person I was the most proud to have in my life, my family, and the person I loved the most. Someone who refreshed my soul, loved all the same things in life, taught me like no other, got me away from all the humdrum of everyday life to my favorite place in the world (which will now never be the same without him), and loved me like the daughter they never had. Someone I spent so much quality time with, esp. In the past 3 years (since I was much younger), and whom I was looking forward to many more years with more than anyone else.

(I must say, I do apologize for the 80's, although it wasn't my fault.)

I was in denial that cancer would ever fucking take him......then I watched him diminish, from the beginning to the last few weeks, and he was gone in a blink, in under a year.

This was my mother's lil brother & best friend in the world, and really the last good person we had, and I became so fucked up from this. More than anyone can understand. It's been 3 months since I could even write about this.

But Then......

THEN....

Right after this tragedy, the worst news & circumstances in the world came flying at me from every direction. Unspeakable things, so not I'm not speaking of them. All of them.

To frost this cake, there is the internet stalker troll. He has finally leaked into this world of mine that I ran to to get the fuck away from him & his 7 years of shit.

Everywhere. He spreads into everywhere like a fatal disease. It's something I swore never to speak of here (my happy place), or other places, but the constant enviously hateful/self hateful taunting rages on, and how long can you go on without getting just completely disgusted, or get sick of being watched, and how can you not fight back against endless mountains of hilarious, sick, sad, super delusion & bullshit commentary about you from a total fucked up, bitter loser.

And now that I'm thinking about, this will all be too much to keep your attention in one post.
Many times no one ever really knows what to say about it. I guess it's just too fucked up. They just agree this person is a shithead, and that's along w/ a few other royally ridiculous people who condone & fuel the behavior. How sad do you have to be to bitterly envy someone that much.

I guess I'm trying to explain the reasons I've had to duck out of all this for a while.

I MISS my blogging buddies.
I MISS this blog.
And, I MiSS myself. I love you people to pieces, and finding you was like finding gold.

I'm not self-absorbed. I can't find myself at the moment, lost my footing. My light temporarily went out, and I'm being tortured by this thing called growing up, the tree of life, the order of things & all that jazz. Maybe it's 29's fault.

I also love y'all too much to let you see my ugly side from arguing & defending myself all over the place from a constant pathetic shit talker with no life. Which I will be elaborating on some time. That cat's out of the bag.

Sorry if I couldn't make you laugh. It sucks for me shit's been no laughing matter either. But, IMO, you deserve an explanation for this madness.

It's been hard for me to read other blogs too because my head's been in such a fucked up place. I start & then fall away again. I gotta work on getting back to myself for a while & make this all better.

I miss this world & all my crazy loves in it like mad. I WILL be back, and I'm sorry if I let you down by just skipping out & going mad. I let myself down too, but life happens, good or bad.

Farkle! There's Yahtzee All Over Me, & I'm Headed Down South

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Sat, 24 Sep 2011 19:02:00 +0000

Farkle.

I don't know WTF it is, but it stands out, doesn't it?

As in "I farkled all over your face".

"I farkled IN your face".

"I farkled my way to the top".

"I farkled your sister at the laundry mat".

"You shut yer goddamn farklehole!"

And I'm looking at this shit thinking "God, this game's gotta be fuckin' great!"

What if someone goes into like, a Farkle fuckin' fit of rage & grabs you during game play, farkles your shirt all up, & starts farkling off at the mouth....

This is one of those things you gotta play in a bullet proof vest apparently.

Then there are probably different variations of Farkle. Like "Street Farkle", "Farkle All-Stars", and "Farkle Your Mom, She Doesn't Call Me Anymore". Parker Brothers is working on a deal, or an LP.

All I know about Farkle is it's a cup with some dice.

I'm Farkle, and I'm farkin' purple, and if you got a farkin' problem with that I'll farkle your farklin' face off."

Yet it has one of the best f'n names EVER!

And it's said there are a lot of risks inside that box, so Farkle is somewhat like a hooker too.

And then this lil risk-taker came along & had EVERYTHING to do with Farkle, according to Google.

If I didn't know what Farkle was, but saw this as my first result it would be pretty self-explanatory.

Apparently when a gnome takes a crap it's a Farkle.

You learn something new everyday.

Which makes me wonder what unicorn manure would do to my garden.

So, next time you see yourself face to face with this wonder, ask yourself "Farkle.......Why?.... Who sent you?"

It's a magic word. Like, every time you say it, you feel like there should be a glittery trail of fuck sparkling behind it.

I have no idea what that means.

Or why I'm writing any of this.

A. Giant. Fuck. Rainbow!

Farkling in the sun.

(Sometimes I go into gaming mode & last week was one such time, and after standing in the aisles of Target in a daze, this word started to rape my mind. I could feel it violating me from the shelf, and knew what had to be done. Farkle, I shall commemorate you on ye olde blog, then expose you for the rapist that you are.)

...................................................

Anywho.

Now that I've gotten something off my chest that's been on my mind for weeks after a night of staring this phenomenon square in the face & then watching a game of Monopoly get nasty & go down for 6+ hours & nearly involve the mob....

He looks nice, doesn't he? Cute lil mustache midget with a bow tie, can't seem to find his monocle?

Wait till you don't pay him his money & let his hooker's corners go to shit & next thing you know you're riding to a hospital with one arm, squashed between this Grey Poupon eatin' muthafucka & a loan shark named Barry, getting ready to tuck & roll.

let's get onto the south part already...

Flaaaahrida.

Aside from the gators & the weird shit, my other home.

It seems as though I'll either be driving or flying down within the next week.

I'll keep you posted.

Don't Farkle yourself too much while I'm gone.

Another Season Down, Another Year Older, and Fall Is Here

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 08:55:00 +0000

Well, it's official. The apples are ripe, crisps are being made, hoodies are being worn, and I'm another year closer to Keith Richards, which is inspiring.

I seem to think I'm on Iron Chef lately.

Thank YOU, Google image!

This is totally what happens when the coffee runs out in my house.

Disclaimer: I am definitely not cooking babies. Thank the mystery behind the machine.

You ain't just whistlin' dixie, and they ain't just pounding cutlets.

I spend hours in the kitchen cooking & working on insane baking projects. It makes harvesting from your garden much more fun too. Which is why next year I'll have the whole yard dug up, and cows & chickens, and how fuckin' cool would it be to never run out of milk, and cheese, and eggs, and psilocybin?!

Anyway, this isn't about running through fields of buttercups & teets & shit.

It's just a passing thought I had today. Fuck, butter for baking gets expensive. How does Paula Dean do it? She must have lil garden gnomes outside the door churning that shit like clockwork.

So, there's something I failed to mention.

As I have mentioned before, I live in the top half of the large multi-family New England home my parents bought when I was born.

Now, not only did I grow up spending my weekends basically living on a boat, but we always had a pool. We also always had a cherry tree that was planted when my sister was born, and a peach tree that was planted when I was born.

Well, there was devastation when my dad had decided to cut down those trees because supposedly he didn't like how all the leaves fell in the pool. So, a few years after that he also got rid of the pool right along with everything else good about our yard; raspberry bushes too. They send people to hell for destroying these things.

Don't give a drunk man the wrong types of tools to play with. Or just, probably not any for that matter.

(Though dad wasn't a drunk per say, he liked to drink on the weekends & work on the house/land/cars & fuck everything up, thinking he was doing a job well done.)

Here's where I get to the point.

He put in a new pool with a heater & all 2 years ago. He has since built a deliberate orchard around it.

A. Whole. Fucking. Orchard.

(2 apple, 2 peach, 1 nectarine, 2 pear, 2 plum)

That's 9 trees, buddy

Is he just rubbing his hands waiting for the day they get big enough for him to go chainsaw happy?

They're investing in another home in Florida within the year. Maybe their plan is to stick me with the maintenance back here.

In that case, thanks for the orchard. It's beautiful.

What the hell is wrong with you?

One man's leaf infested pool is another man's.....orchard?

The same man's in another time?

Either way, no need to go to an apple farm.

Hey there, peaches.

Dig in.

Anyone know how to press & make hard cider?

No pumpkins makes me angry.

Now I have to go finish building a junk yard out of gingerbread.

I Failed. A Maybe Not-So-Triumphant Return & My Jungle Exploded Down There

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 15:45:00 +0000

But lemme explain why I failed.

Blogging tends to suck me in. It tends to take up a lot of my time between thinking/writing up posts, keeping up with all readers & other blogs, finding & getting sucked into new ones, etc... It sucks me into this never ending online web. I've yet to find my perfect balance. Maybe it's this ADHD, and always being onto some new project.

This summer's line up of events has been non-stop, on top of the fact that when this season hits, I go into another mode entirely. I just couldn't keep up with it all at once, esp. the sitting at the computer so much with so many beautiful days to enjoy. I had to put something down for a while. Unfortunately, that something had to be the blogging.

The chain of events has been non-stop - Lung Surgery Recovery > Florida > Sister's Bridal Shower & Wedding Preparation > Music Festival > Best Friend Visiting from England > Wedding Coming Up > Birthday Coming Up, and still possibly yet another music festival followed by yet another Florida vacation, so even though I've made a pact to myself to return to blogging, there still may be no end in sight to this streak of events that's added to keeping me off the internets so much.

I know that doesn't seem like much to hold me back or keep me busy, but there's plenty going on in between all that as well, trust me.

So, I took a summer vacation. I had to.

In fact, I don't even know where to begin here, which stories of my triumphs, trials, and tribulations to even share first, so I guess I'll bore you right now by starting with the bridal shower & the garden of roid raged doom.

My sister is marrying Bozo the clown this weekend.

Actual picture of what I predict on the wedding day.

I have to stop myself from making a speech at this wedding similar to Steve Buscemi's in The Wedding Singer, and I know in my already anticipating the drunkenness heart, that is going to be an impossibility because I am a goddamn bastard.

And there's surely some good goddamn comedy behind this whole scenario, but like lots of things brought up here, that's another story for another time.

I can't write a novel here. You'd all be throwing tomatoes at your monitors, and that's a damn bad waste of good tomato sauce.

In this chain of events my sister decided she wanted me to make her a cupcake tower for her bridal shower, and I was up for 4 days straight making 3 different kinds of cakes, chocolate hearts covered in edible glitter, and running a bakery out of my goddamn house.

Is this all hypnotizing you? Cupcakes make you happy in the pants, don't they?

Well, don't get too excited. There's broccoli involved in this post.

Master professional-like baker? You bet your ass.

("The Mad Baker" is the name)

Yet another story for another time? You bet your ass, but it's coming soon with the holiday season ahead.

Let's move onto some news about this jungle in my pants, shall we?

Sorry, I mean, my garden. Yard. Fuck, whatever!

(Martha Stewart will never have the class I can possess.)

The Power of Shit

Cow shit that is.

We're going to go through a series of photos here taking a look at the progression, but keep in mind, it's going to get pretty fucked up at some point here. I seemed to have misjudged spacing just a bit this year.

*Bites tongue*

Now.....

Do you see it? The perfect formation, perfect spacing?

Now....Listen to me. Listen good.

Do not put tomato plants in your garden, esp. when you have every space filled in with something else you had mapped & planned perfectly, and also in soil filled with a high-strength fertilizer.

There are 5 separate boxed off lil gardens & 3 of them are now 1. They've merged, kind of like Trapper Keeper 5,000.

Somehow....

Everything is still growing under all this, from the watermelons to the cauliflower, butternut squash, pickling cucumbers, beans & pea pods. Every single thing, and without a mark or bite on it from the Super Seven.

(Get your hands on some of that shiz. Not one pest issue all season.)

After it was weeded. Clearly fishing for the fruited vegetables is a delicate ~~get your face bitten off~~ situation.

(Lil mosquitos & bees, sure, but mind you, there could be sharks in there. I thought I saw a bear all lost in there once, and we all know, where there are bears there are sharks.)

After the hurricane, unfortunately. Blown over squash stems & a few snapped zucchini stems, but sure enough this jacked up, roid enraged garden survived.

Hell yeah, I grew my own lettuce. But that garden is a lil too sad looking & picked over right now to see.

How about one of my cow shit zucchinis over a store bought zucchini...

Invest in cow shit, people!!

Can't go on forever here can I?

Also, I had to start somewhere.

We'll just have to see how I keep up.

Oh Hai, Explosions Anyone?

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 07:14:00 +0000

Bloggers, how the hell ya been?!

*Blows confetti out the back door*
(and not the one with the knob if you know what I mean. Although, I can assure you I have no knob, cept those two that rest atop my chesticles)

As most of you know (unless you're hiding in a cave banging a polar bear), last weekend was the 4th of July here in America - Ya know, when we get all redneck-style drunk, eat sausages, and blow shit up as we tear over how beautiful of a celebration it is, or rather it's just the liquor making us cry. Whatever it may be, it can get emotional. Esp. if the explosions are too much to handle........ and this year in my neck of the woods, they certainly were!

Now, if I hadn't mentioned it before, my next door neighbor works for the light company. A few years back he lost his strict & overbearing father and has since gone right back to the good ol' age of 16, partying in the garage with his grown sons on a daily basis, drinking massive quantities of beer, and blowing up the whole neighborhood with illegal explosives.

So, three years ago Mahk decides he's going to outdo the entire town and their cheesy town fireworks display with his display and a block party that has since expanded to an open house bash between 4 neighborhood houses with an attendance way into the triple digits.

We just happen to have the best seat in the whole neighborhood every year because they go off right over our backyard, and this is only a taste.

That noise after the explosion is the friggin' enormity of the neighborhood shindig.

A bunch of us were watching the fountain of fire shoot up from the trailer while fusion bombs went through the sky & we actually just lost it laughing. You didn't know what else to do. I've seen fireworks shows, big & small, all over the place my whole life, and none of us had ever seen anything like it.

My mother's a bit wild at heart, even pushing 60, and had my poor 80 year old grandparents in the corner sitting through this. My lil nana has very high anxiety & heart rhythm problems, got very scared, and, well, it kind of pissed me off my mother was that stupid.

Now, there were a few friends & family members occupying my house & backyard (about 25 or so), and here you can see the party gone wild & hear my super twit sister suggest we should have opened our yard to hundreds of sweaty drunk college kids with terrible Boston accents.

Silly bitch....

You're grammatically incorrect, sistarella. It's "YAAAHHHD", not "YARD", queeftaht. Go back to Nebraska!

(We don't really get along too well. She's a flake & I'm a hardass. It's like oil & water)

"I'm gonna spread sum fuckin' butta all over this heah stah spankgled banna, guy. Where's my beeah, and a fourk I can stiab some assbag heah in the face with, guy?"

Gotta. Love. The. North Shore

Did you know I made it through about 10 minutes of "The Depahted" before I started looking for where my vest full of grenades & machine guns were at?

Quit talking like that! It makes you look frackin fucked up & uncivilized.

Boston, Connecticut, Rhode Island, parts of New Hampshah & Maine, you heard me...
(And try not to take offense with this from someone who's been living here their whole life. Unless you have the heavy accent. Then go take some speech classes fer christsake)

Jersey & New Yawk, don't get me stahted. You're certainly not safe.

Whew! You know what... I really flew of topic here, but that explosion's been waiting to happen for a while.
Ever since Lily DiCaprio showed up on my screen trying to be like Chaalie from down the street.

Welcome to the north east! We have baboons & beer! And lots & LOTS of Yuengling, guy!

ONWARD!!

Here are some bewbs to keep your attention.

No. Fucking. Way!
I would beat your ass with your own shoes if you ever came around me wearing these.

You know...... this whole post is just failing terribly! Gawd!

Now, look. Even though last year I was in sunny Florida for 3 weeks during the 4th, I was quite bummed I wasn't here for Mahk's end of the world block pahty, and also that when trying to make the fireworks display down in Seminole County, my GPS took me to an empty church parking lot - "Just shut up & pray for fireworks, buoy. That's how we see light in the sky down here in Molesterville".

I don't know what sort of divine intervention happened next, but my flight to come home was scheduled for the evening of July 4th, and when I tell you that plane came down from over the clouds precisely at 9:00 P.M., I mean just in time for me to see fireworks displays ALL over Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Boston from all the little backyard displays to all the the big shot shows on the water all at once, all from an airplane.

And if that wasn't enough of a dream come true, the Boston Harbor display was in full swing when I landed at Logan.

Actual shot from the airplane window touching down on the runway.

I can check that off from my list now! Fireworks across 3 states from an airplane.

Since I've spent so much time screwing around here, let's get on to This Week In Twitter
(Or last week, or maybe even two weeks ago. I've been a slacker)

Because it's all fun & games until somebody goes insane. Then it's REALLY FUN!!

You're not really gone, though, until you actually turn the photo in with a review.
Not like I actually did that.........
(Though, you should know me better because I totally did)

Your beaver bit my beaver & now there's gonna be words.

Maybe I've gotten too personal here.

Tell me the story of your life. Is that too personal for you?!

Blah, blah.

Ooohh....

JACKPOT!

A step up from my future brother-in-law who falls UP the stairs on a weekly basis.
(He's okay. Sort of. He never really was to begin with)

Right about now, I feel like one of those psychological test subjects in an auditorium full of medical scientists.

What if I told them my fruit turned to sandy clam shells in my hand & the escalator took you through the wall, but rather beat me into the wall because I had magnets in my shoulder, which totally must have manifested from this brilliant & hilarious post by The Snee.

I bet you those scientists would pay big bucks for a test subject who's consumed as much acid as me in the 90's. See, that's the 60's backwards. Think about it.

So, speaking of too much acid in the 90's...

A whole nother subject for its own special post, let's leave it at that, and "Shockin' the Cockin'"
(Speaking of which, I should tell my dear bro I have now seen a new shock plug that'll help him "Shockin' the Colon" too)

So........

Think of Wile E. Coyote, cept' with the bang (or rather, consecutive bangs) before the loud whistle as he plummets into the core of the earth.

Not everything can be perfect. My first car was a lawn mower.

So in concluding this post for today, some of the upcoming posts here should somewhat consist of; my vegetable jungle progress, my sister's bridal shower & preparation for her wedding, a hokey music festival in the slums, and so on...

Now I know this all seems quite lame, but c'mon, guys, it's me.

(I don't know why I just felt like saying "Crazy Carl")

It's bound to be fucked up & entertaining.

So, I hope ya'll had a really great 4th & of course a happy Canada Day ;~}, and I leave you with our cheesy town fireworks display's grand finale captured in really poor quality.

You're so welcome!

A Whole Pile of Gibberish & A Messed Up Paradise

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Fri, 24 Jun 2011 04:49:00 +0000

I feel compelled to jump in here all "AAAAYYY" like Fonzi, but really, that's just fucking cheesy & possibly detrimental to my readership, so I'll start by saying "Hi, blog, bloggers. I've truly missed your asses, really."

I do enjoy staying very busy, but it's just not the same without you. All those lonely, wordless nights I lay in bed, thinking about caressing you and your foul words and insane ramblings and how you say "Don't touch me there! It's harassment".

As some of you may know, over a week ago I packed my bags and ran on down to sunny FLA for a fun in the sun vacation and to get away from this apocalyptic rain forest that is NEW New England, and god knows I'm a whore for the sun, palm tress, beaches, tropics, flip flops, bikinis, surfing, and partying, but mind you, everywhere you go is a world of its own.

Yes, where rednecks molest alligators and you have a 40% chance of being murdered just driving to the post office.

Something tells me this was probably created by some 80 year old golfer in Boca.

So, I'm thinking of adding a new segment here where I elaborate on some of the things I've tweeted, experienced, and talked about throughout the week because, well, it gives me more shit to post about and I have to mention that they're subjects which were tweeted because many of you have probably seen it tweeted, and that would be lame if you heard about it twice without explanation.

Tonight I was in a restaurant and this guy (probably about 60-70-ish) was stomping around unnecessarily like a buffalo with a family size dinner in his hands and a friend of mine said "He's going to eat that whole plate and break the place down."

(Mind you, this isn't a weight thing. He didn't seem that big at all to me. This a "Why the hell are you stampeding across the floor like a buffalo holding a plate to feed a family of four all to yourself" thing)

Surely enough right before we left, the guy broke the chair and fell out of it and tumbled to the the floor in front of the whole restaurant and that's when it hit me like a pile of bricks - "This has absolutely nothing to do with my blog post, but I'm gonna put it in there anyway". Then it hit me like a sack of crab legs - "I'm going to elaborate on some of my interesting and humorous tweets from this week".

So here we go - "Shit I mentioned on Twitter", & "Down the Rabbit Hole".

Down in Florida I had completely forgotten about the consequences of having to share a room with my mother, and it hadn't hit me till after the first night when I was crying and holding myself , pulling my hair out and slapping myself in the head on the bathroom floor with a pillow.

True story.

My father says the shit my mother says in her sleep is the most screwed up, psychedelic rabbit hole he's ever been down, and with that, I couldn't agree more...... I was reminded.

The second night she wakes up suddenly out of a sound sleep:

- "I just had the worst nightmare!!"

- "What happened, Ma?"

- "We were singing under the lollipop tree and allll the colors broke!"

- "That's a nightmare, mom?"

- "It is to me!

Someone kept screaming 'What about the green one?! What about the green one?!'......... Like, what about it? What the fuck about it?! IT'S JUST LIME!"

This unfortunately just got worse as the week went on.

- "OMG, I just has the biggest Italian fight!

All the chandeliers came down, someone called me a meatball!"

- "Wait a minute, mom........What the hell is going on now?"

- "I......I don't know what to say. We were burglarized by Bird's Eye!"

- "WHAT?"

(I thought this was some secret service shit before I found out she was talking about frozen peas)

- "What's your favorite way to have fish, Ba?"

- "WHAAATTT?! What. the. fuck?!" *In Tears*

- "Ya know........ A lot of people don't realize the value of stewed tomatoes."

- "Really now?"

- "They don't!!"

"Look, Ba, it's a periwinkle!"

- "Oh, god!

What do you mean?" *afraid to ask*

- "Well, you know how the sun sets on a rock? It's setting on a periwinkle. It's just sitting there all fat and stupid."

- "What the ffffffuck!"

- "BA???"

(One of my many nicknames, somehow short for "Bitsy")

- "Yeah, mom?"

- "How's she doing that with the chick peas?"

- "Who?"

- "I wanna be on The Real Housewives of New Jersey."

- "Kill me now."

*************************************

I go to Florida at least once a year to get away from all the humdrum of regular life & spend weeks at a time with my uncles or watch their house while their on vacation, and this time was quite different than the others so far. This new reality with all going on back home and with all going on back there with my uncle's cancer & all was another dimension. In fact, this new reality of mine had driven me to drink.

....Al the way down to the bottom of a 1.75 liter.

The actual bottle

Bottoms up!

I ended up spending most of my week melting like butter at the beach, getting ripped on tequila, compulsively shopping and tweeting, and abusing Foursquare.

Getting word of some goings on back home.

Meanwhile, World War III breaks out down in Florida with an epic drunk and shirtless fight between the uncles, after my one uncle had fallen down onto the floor of the dining room numerous times from too many cuckoo pills and bottles of scotch and a no sugar, no carb, no food diet combo that would make Judy Garland look like Strawberry Shortcake.

Then the Twitter spelling owl came to my aid. Now I don't know what's up with this cockamamie bastard, but he thought he knew how to spell "pinscher" better than me.

So, my vacation was awesome!!!

I'm going to update my Flickr & actually attempt to put the photo stream on the sidebar of my blog here, so you can actually see some of the nice parts of my vacation, but we'll see because there's a strong dose of Murphy's Law going around right now.

And now I can officially say "I hope you're all having a wonderful start to this summer!" =D

Because mine has been as fun as a bonfire on the beach, and as interesting as a bonfire on the beach with burning bodies in it.

Epic Fail On the Consistency

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 19:54:00 +0000

I have failed miserably at being around & posting more & visiting blogs more, but it's not without good reason.

Ya see, my lovelies...... I spent over 5 years living day & night on a forum of seriously geeky folks who wanted to be hippies, though real hippies are quite different from what they were, and they did NOTHING, day in, day out, and when they finally did get together at a festival or whatever, it was so boring & messed up weird, you just wanted to shoot yourself in a state of "Is this really my life?" and it was for a long time, and I did NOTHING too.

This was conformity. at. its. absolute. worst and most stupid.
(And I know Kelly will be hanging his head in shame, but at least now he has an idea on why I'm even more of a radical than I ever was. In the end I would not conform to the corrupt & ridiculous conformity of lame assness. It took a long time to fully realize WTF I had been doing for all those years of my life. I live my life on my terms & morals, and I wasn't even living, at all.)

DO NOT DRINK THE KOOL-AID!

(That's not acid in there either!)

Now that I've gotten out of the trap, my senses go nuts over things; the smell of summer in the air, all the different things I can do in a day, all the different places I can go. I appreciate every little thing about life in ways that I could never see before.

You lose perspective of life. You lose YOURSELF, and you lose your life itself in that situation.

So, me and hanging out online too much have our issues.

I now love to travel to Florida on a whim. I love to garden all day & go out & about to fun & interesting places, and I love keeping myself busy, productive & happy. Before that trap I had an INCREDIBLE life, and I've been living to get that all back these days.

Moving on from that bullshit that's too lame to even continue mentioning, let me explain what the hell has been going on on my suburban FARM, so you can get some ideas on why the hell I haven't been blogging much.

Last year I spent weeks digging myself up gardens & experimenting with vegetables.

This is just one of my 5 vegetable boxes.

Squash, Zucchinis, and my plethora of Peas.

Turnips & Carrots fresh from the ground.

Black Beauty & mini Gretel Eggplants.

Trellaces of snap peas.

Carrots in abundance.

I also have 10 + giant pots on my deck in which I grow all my tomatoes, bell peppers, jalapenos, strawberries, and herbs.

C'mon, I'm Italian. What do you expect? We're serious about our gardens, vegetables, and particularly our tomatoes.

I hold my beautiful Jalapenos just as dear. You wouldn't believe how many these pots grow.

I even grew corn, people! Fucking corn! This isn't Nebraska, or wherethefuckever!

Let me give you the list for this year of what the hell I've been working on planting & tilling & preparing.

Zucchinis
Black Beauty Eggplants (Aubergines & Courgettes according got Mr. B. ;~) You have to admit how much cooler those names are.
Broccoli
Cauliflower (both new additions this year)
Snap Peas, Snow Peas, and Shelling Peas
Garden Bush Beans
Squash
Corn
Watermelons galore
Canteloupes
Butter Lettuce and Black Seeded Lettuce
Asparagus
Carrots
Scallions
Strawberries
Cherry, Roma, Grape, Early Girl, and Beefsteak Tomatoes
Green Bell, Yellow Bell, Red Bell, Jalapeno, Serano, and Pepperoncini Peppers
Dill, Cilantro, Chives, Oregano, Basil, Parsley, Mint

This isn't even including my flowers & I left out Onions this year. I may start some Potatoes as well.

So, you can see how busy I'm keeping myself just with that alone, not to even mention all the other things I've been doing, places I've been going, etc.

There is one thing about this year's gardens that separate it from the last.

That's right, pure cow shit. YUM!

NOW we're talking attack of the mutated, possibly homicidal vegetables. When they grow giant brains & start conspiring against me, I will let you know! When they break into my house & start drinking my tequila, the fucking war is ON!

Now, I'm not sure if you're familiar with the particular downfalls of gardening, but there's a general rule & that is "If you can grow it, some lil mutant shit insect can kill it in a day." I learned that the hard way. My two gigantic, fruiting Zucchini plants were wiped out in 24 hours by Squash Vine Borers, which dig their way into the the main stalk of the plant & eat it from the inside out, but if you think that's bad, meet my arch nemesis from Mars, the Tomato Horned Worm...

I'm not sure you can see the lil horn on its back, but these are the biggest, ugliest, nastiest things you'll ever lay your eyes on, and they disguise themselves as plant foliage, so they can devour entire tomato plants & strip them bare in just a few days.

Moths come & lay eggs on the underside of the leaves & these creatures hatch from them & live on the plants. Then wasps come & infest the worms with their eggs & lil baby wasps hatch from their backs, killing the worms. Are you throwing up yet? Not yet? What if I told you these things move their mouths at you while they make some ungodly sound from outer space? And you have to dispose of them properly because if they get thrown into the soil, they overwinter in it & come back infesting everything.

So, as much as I wanted to continue going organic this year, I got me a big old bottle of Super Seven insecticide & there won't be shit eating my plants this year!

So, clearly I've been super busy and am trying to keep up with other blogs as much as possible & best as I can as well, but I think it's gonna take me some time to adjust & incorporate frequent blogging into my agenda. Nevertheless, I will get there. I love blogging way too much to just abandon it. Some seasons & some phases of life are just more busy than others.

But not only do I have all this being busy to focus on.....Now I have this shit to worry about too.
AGAIN, in case you don't remember the whole killer vegetables ordeal from a previous post.
The point is, now I have to worry about mutated vegetables uprooting in the middle of the night & possibly breaking into the house to kill me.

Shouldn't this be a survival guide?

Not a usual post from me, but more of a brief update. I have another post in the works to update you on other rather freaking humorous goings on in my life lately and that should be up soon.

For now, I hope you're all enjoying this wonderful summer so far!

The New Motorcycle Gangs

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Wed, 25 May 2011 06:05:00 +0000

Before we get to our post today, I'd like to apologize (again), for not being around much.

After I recovered from that brutal surgery (which now seems like a bad dream so far away), I started getting into some new projects so that ya'll wouldn't visit this page & be subjected to seeing my weird, freaky shit, but still haven't been feeling so up to par recovering psychologically. Obviously, posting to this blog requires me to keep up with my regular pizazz, which is something I've been drained of as of lately and it's been a slow road but things are getting back to normal, as will my posting here once more, so don't lose hope in me.

I also tend to a ridiculously large vegetable garden and it's the time of year to spend a lot of time with that as well. Nevertheless, I am making blogging more frequently and keeping up with all of you my first priority from here on out.

As for the post here today, I'm not sure it falls so much under the "humorous" category, but it is something I would like to bring to attention.

You notice more & more that you're seeing classic cars all over the place & many of them are extremely souped up?

The inspiration for this post hit me after one drove by me last week, gorgeous classic car, new shiny red paint job, complete with the Porky's logo n' all. It was so cool yet so amusing at the same time.

Well, after a trip at the end of last summer up to Essex County to visit The Clambox (yes, that's a seafood restaurant), I noticed something very interesting: Older men too afraid to get on motorcycles are now forming classic car gangs. I realized this at the moment about 15-20 of them pulled into the parking lot circling around & kicking up dust all over the place.

Never mind the lack of actual dust here. It was the best I could do.

And being a car enthusiast, I found this to be a pretty intriguing topic to bring to people's attention.
I've also learned something in all this, and it's that I'm way more into these older customized American cars from the 30's, 40's & 50's rather than ones from the 60's & 70's.

So, today we're going to take a look at some bad ass lil beauties.

Take note that I refuse to even take a second glance at what American cars are today, but what they were decades ago is a whole different story! Better than anything made & existing today.

Let's start with what may be my personal favorite.

The Mercury Lead Sled 1940's-1950's

Now I'm not sure about 1951 standards, but having a car like this today is bound to get you laid.

If you think that's a beauty, let's take a look at some more Mercury Lead Sleds

Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back. And I'm taking this with me.

By the light of the silvery.....Holy crap, I may have just shit my pants.

The 1939 Ford Coupe

It's way cool, but I don't find it so hot in that it screams "Pass the Grey Poupon through the window" in a way.

The 1937 Ford 2-Dr Sedan

Gangsta muthafucka!

The 1934 Ford Coupe

That's balls!

The 1948 Chevy Aerosedan

The paint job is a lil "Rainbow Randolph" but the car is awesome! It's got that body & shape I love. Perhaps if it had some chasing lights, it would be more of a clown car.

The 1940 Ford Panel Truck

Clearly, besides being a milk man classic, it's a surf classic & how can I not love that?!

I am literally in my GLORY right now as I write this post.

The 1952 Chevy Convertible

Take that, grease lightning! You just couldn't be that f-ing cool.

The 1942 Ford F1

Not much words here. Just form & classic beauty.

1934 Buick Sedan

I'll be damned. They once actually made an awesome fn car.

I'm getting really scared I'll never stop here.

How about The 1941 Cadillac 62

Clean up aisle 62!

I'm such a dude sometimes.

I bet it ROARS. I bet they all roar. "We all float down here!"

Seriously, I hope you've all enjoyed this post as much as my pants have.

Pardon my lewd conduct. I freaking LOVE these things!

I will now be doing some blog rounds & I promise you'll be seeing more of me this week.
Let me know if I forgot any seriously bad ass cars from this era that I can update the post with.

They Can Drive Us Insane

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Sat, 07 May 2011 12:48:00 +0000

Sometimes they nitpick, and demand, and disapprove, and they sometimes want to make us pull our hair right out....

But we'll miss that when they're gone.

So, no matter how small or unimportant you think it may be....

There's nothing like a mother. Take this weekend to show her that, if you're fortunate enough to still have her around.

And send the BIGGEST hugs, love, and respects ever to those who do no longer.

I don't know how much longer we'll have dear ol' Betty White lil nana, but if it were less than a year, I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't put the smile of being loved & appreciated on her face that she'll have today when that delivery truck pulls up & rings the doorbell with this arrangement which is actually almost three times bigger than her adorable lil head.

And you don't need to say it with flowers. You can say it with anything.

Just think about what this day means, and what a mom truly is, and make it genuine.

Regardless of the times they may make us want to stab ourselves in the face with a soldering iron, who do we call out for in pain & despair?, who do we feel inclined to call up with that remarkable, good, or even unsettling news? Who do most of us always want to turn to for that ultimate comfort or sage advice?

Who do you have to thank that you're here, and who had the strength & decency to raise you in a way that you didn't end up a serial killer?
(My apologies to the uni bomber & all those fuck faces alike. I don't know, maybe their moms were cool. Maybe Uncle Carl molested them in the closet. Wherever shit went wrong...)

Mine drives me fucking NUTS!!

(In a way that I'm surprised that I don't have a Valium gum ball machine)

But boy, am I gonna miss that when it's gone.

That's a huge understatement. I don't know what I'll do or how I'll carry on when she's not around to drive me nuts along with all the good moms do.

So, I took her for that fancy Chinese dinner, had them bring a cake to the table for her (Her b-day is right around Mother's Day), and I'm going to get her that insane list of things she wants, right down to that fucking magnolia tree, so she can always see it flower & be reminded of my unconditional love & appreciation.

This may be a humor blog, but I'm a human as well as a freak, and this is a subject/message that hits close to home & is significant to me.

Moms drive us nuts BECAUSE they want to be that #1 person in our lives, and important enough to be that person, as we were in theirs from day 1 of our very existence.

Mother's Day is really something special.

It's our time to give back, for all those diapers, tantrums, and times they stayed by our side & took care of us when we were sick & hurting. For all those fits of teen angst & worrisome nights we brought them. For all they may have had to work all those years to keep food on our tables & clothes on our backs.

And if you don't have the time &/or the resources, MAKE the time, and don't worry about the resources.

They just want to hear, know, and feel how much we love & are grateful for them. They've worked so hard loving & raising us to deserve that.

So, if she's still with you, show your mom (and your mother figures) how much she means.

So to all the moms out there...

P.S My deepest apologies if I haven't been doing much blog catching up this week. Things have been insane, hectic, and busy, but I'll be getting around to rounds this weekend. XoXo. Until then, enjoy the lovely weather, and showering mom with love.

You got every other day of the year to hide in the car/basement, and scream (maybe even cry) & pull your hair out.

This is the day you suck it up & throw that all out the window.

A Fire Breathing Fetish of Sickly Proportions

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Sun, 01 May 2011 08:27:00 +0000

Wow, it feels weird (but good) to be back here writing up a post!
I am recovering well & slowly moving back into the swing of things, and it's just been too damn long.

Maybe I'll share the second half of the horror story sometime in the near future, but I have been enjoying those times I don't have to focus so much on what the hell I went through back there, so...

Today I want to talk to you about weird fetishes which are of a non-sexual nature, and
A self- observation I haven't been able to deny all my life.

Wrong shit entirely!
I'm not sure what's she expected to do with those, but it's almost frightening to think about.
"Slap me with a waffle & call me Charlie Sheen."

I'm THAT sicko..... No, not the one above, but who doesn't enjoy waffles & storm troopers now?

(Just keep them miles away from my bedroom or my lady parts.)

The one that eats jars of vinegar peppers (Pepperoncini) because I'm addicted to the burn.
The one who eats their pizza STRAIGHT out of the oven because it just doesn't taste good enough if it doesn't leave a welt on the roof of my mouth.
The one who eats that insane, spicy yellow mustard at Chinese restaurants (It's boss on chicken wings).
The one who used to stand outside Taco Bell as a kid & have "fire sauce contests" with my friends. (Pussies. I remember them dancing in circles, panting with their eyes bulging out, nearly in tears.)
And the one who can finish an entire one of those long, hot sausages from the Italian import store that even make grown men cry & choke to death from a single bite.

I don't suggest you ever try any of those at home, unless you're a straight up fire breathing dragon.

Or in this case, fire breathing corporate nerd.
Sometimes you gotta work with what you can.

Now, some people can handle this shit well. Some, on the other hand, not so well at all.

But then there are the sickos who seek out this sensation/experience.

No, dickhead, me. Creepy fucking owl trying to steal my thunder.

I once bit into a slice of pizza so hot, not only did it leave a welt, but the skin on the roof of my mouth actually peeled off. =0. While speaking of creepy, the creepiest part about this was that I felt satisfied for days.

I had the battle wounds to prove it, as I still continued to burn my mouth in any way I could the rest of that week.

Is this a sign of lacking something emotionally, physically?

My guess is probably just a disturbed person being disturbed, though it would be cool if it had any kind of theory behind it.

No, I'm not going to go out & snort Wasabi like Steve-O, but it's a rush & a thrill for some people.

My mother & her father actually both suffer from the same insane fetish.

These folks also eat orange peels & the like, so maybe it's irrelevant.

Though, I still think my 2nd degree pizza burn was a first for the history books.

Deadly pizza, you hurt me so good. <3

If my bowl of soup isn't at nearly boiling point & doesn't burn with intense heat all the way down to the point of involuntary twitching, I simply have no interest in it.

I have yet to throw a bowl of soup at the wall, but I'll make sure to be wearing a wife beater with spaghetti stains on it when that day comes. I think that's kind of a requirement for throwing soup at the wall.

I once threw a plethora of cold cuts (and some chicken cutlets) behind the couch when I was a kid, but I also don't think that's quite relevant here.

My bologna's first name was destruction.

(Floppy food is funny).

"I gots me attire for my first date with a lady friend."

It's like that chick at the prom wearing the long & proper gown when you know quite well you need the slut standing outside in the mini skirt for any kind of real thrill.

She'll probably burn your ass, but she'll be worth it & you'll never forget her.

Esp. for the following weeks due to the effects of the burning, but that's what you get for messing around with crabs.

Spicy food is a dirty whore!

(Bologna is just wrong in every way.)

Just keep Habanero out of the family chili. Nobody else will appreciate it & think you're an asshole.

I'm like, no good at photoshopping.
Shit, I don't even have photo shop. I lied to you.
(I did put habanero in the family chili, though.)

Some people like being lied to. It's their fetish.

As much as it's against my morale, I'd lie to you if you wanted.

I just won't spank you with waffles. Wtf do you think this is?

Nor do I think I'd pierce my tongue, as much as I love torturing my mouth.

You should really see the way I can throw back things like deadly, straight Whiskey & Tequila, though.

That's a good look for cousin Cletus.
Let's do this, people!!
We can play beer pong with Jim Bob's eyeballs after the explosion.

Irresistably appealing.

You've missed me (and my sanity), admit it.

The Advantages and Disadvantages of Penises and Vaginae

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 20:41:00 +0000

From LilPixi, herself...

It's been a long & winding road between surgeries, hospital stays & at home recoveries, and to say I miss being in the swing of blogging & all of you is a major understatement, and I feel it is unfair to just let this blog sit here & collect dust in the meantime. Fortunately, I have some wonderful friends in the blogosphere who have been more than willing & eager to present a guest post for ya'll while I take my time recovering all woe is me & shit, and today I am ecstatic to announce that we'll all be enjoying a guest post from someone in the blogosphere I consider it such an honor to have a guest post done by.

When it comes to the blogging world, Kelly is like my next of kin, so I am beyond thrilled that he'll be gracing us with such an awesome & humorous guest post today, and if you've yet to visit & follow his outstanding blog of epic proportions, Psycho Carnival make sure to pay him a visit afterwards, or the voices of a thousand souls will haunt you in your sleep eternally (A bit much? I think not.) I fucking love this blogger!! My blogging soulmate to say the least. So pop some popcorn & sit back because you're sure to enjoy this ride. Take it away, Kelly.......

THE ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES OF PENISES AND VAGINAE

presented to you by your friendly neighborhood guest poster, Kelly... which would be me... you see, oh-so-modestly

As most of you know, some of us (menfolk) own a penis.

Still, there are others (womenfolk) who have a vagina.

And a few of us have both (hermaphrodites).

Today, we shall discuss the advantages and disadvantages of having either a penis or a vagina.

Penis Advantages include:

* The comfort and anatomical ability of being able to piss against a wall, a urinal, face of a homeless retard, behind a friend, over the railing of a bridge or overpass so that it splatters on the cars below or just about anywhere you can fling your ding-a-ling out. Pretty nifty, eh?

* Penises can also be used to put on amusing and interesting puppet shows. (see below)

* And let's say your hands and arms are full of groceries. That handy dandy penis of yours can be used to ring the doorbell to alert your significant other that you're home and in need of assistance with your bags of goodies- or to simply let them know you want them to open the fucking door! Of course, your penis should probably be erect (try stroking it, vigorously) before attempting this and you should be sure the ringer is at the appropriate height or you will probably be shit out of luck. Unless you're that guy, in the above picture. I don't think he'll have any trouble.

Penis Disadvantages Include:

* Let's face it, guys. Penises are stupid looking. The darn thing looks like a deformed sausage link or some variety of mushroom.

* Penises can be quite cumbersome, difficult to handle and will, at times, prove awkward in public places. Guys are usually tugging at their crotches because their one eyed trouser snake almost constantly needs to be shifted here and there in order to avoid discomfort. Women may show their pity upon poor men by offering them a kindly slob job in order to deflate the penis and make it that much more manageable. Everyone wins then! Peace of mind for the menfolk. Protein shake for the womenfolk.

* And, goodness gracious... Who knows when that rascal will become blood-engorged and ready to spew it's whitish vomit on some unsuspecting bed sheet in the middle of the night? I'm talking, of course, about wet dreams. Oh, the horror.

* Bonus boner fact- Horst Schultz achieved a stream of 18 ft 9 in (6 m) with a ‘substantial’ amount of seminal fluid. He also holds the records for the greatest height (12 ft 4in) and the greatest speed of ejaculation, or muzzle velocity, with 42.7mph. Schultz is Penis Spurting Champion of The Universe! Imagine that!

Moving onward...

Vagina Advantages Include:

* Vaginae can be used for extra storage space. I once went to a bachelor party where a stripper did magic tricks with her pussy. The following is not a joke: The skinny blonde haired stripper put a dozen hard boiled eggs into her fleshy storage unit and like a chicken, went to each guy (there was thirty of us, sitting on couches and chairs) and carefully laid an egg from her twat into our frosty mugs of beer. She continued the show by inserting an entire 12 oz. bottle of Budweiser in her mystery hole, along with a bullwhip (don't ask), and a 14 inch zucchini.

Here's the funny part about the zucchini... The stripper had a friend of mine lay on his back on the hardwood floor. The stripper wedged one end of the zucchini into my friend's mouth. She then commenced to ride it with the force of an enraged rhino until it finally exploded all over my good buddy's face. We laughed at him, called him an idiot and kicked him a couple times, for good measure, as he was blinded by chunks of mashed up zucchini and vaginal juices. Blammo! Jolly fun for one and all.

From that night forward, she was known as Vagina Monster.

I've often wondered if Vagina Monster was ever in need of service. In some special, kind-hearted, thoughtful way, I was almost worried about Vagina Monster. And then I would get over it, shift my weiner to the left and continue about on my life's many wonderful journeys.

* I can't really think of any more advantages of owning a vagina. I guess some womenfolk would consider the ability to have a baby with it as some sort of advantage, but I don't see it. I'm glad to have a penis so I don't have to go through all that nasty ol' pain, mess and fuss. A male friend o' mine told me he was in the delivery room when his wife agonizingly popped out a little human critter. I asked, sincerely, "So you witnessed the Miracle of Life, did ya?"

He said, "Miracle of Life? Miracle of Life? It was horrible... absolutely ghastly and disgusting. Oh, and the screaming and..."

I put my hand up. I had heard enough.

Sorry ladies, that you have a vagina. But you still have something to smile about because with your extraordinary vagina... Men will actually want to talk to you. Oh, the joy!

Vagina Disadvantages include:

* Vaginae usually smell like fish or iron or blood or a strange horror-movie type gash between the legs.

* Vaginae bleed for 7 days or more and women are usually experiencing some amount of discomfort and yet they do not die. I do not know whether to congratulate women on living through this every month or running away in fright because, well, let's face it, that's just so supernatural and stuff.

In closing, I would just like to state the obvious that there are advantages and disadvantages of having a veiny dingle or bearded clam. Hermaphrodites, of course, can go fuck themselves, literally. :)

Hey folks, I'm glad I could stop by and help educate and entertain you fine, sophisticated readers. I want to thank LilPixi for the golden opportunity of allowing me to guest host for this excellent, hilarious blog of hers, too. She has been a great and much valued friend for awhile now. I consider her to be a kindred spirit and blogging soulmate, as well. Always kind, supportive and ultra-creative! LilPixi, if you're reading this, (and I'm bettin' you are) I surely hope you are mending well and that you continue to delight and enchant us with future blog posts whenever you acquire the strength to come back to blogging. Take care, Kelly

ICU Too, You're A Fine Nurse, But This Can't Be Happening

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 18:41:00 +0000

But unfortunately it is.

(Hopefully this works & actually posts. Trying a new quick-blogging method through email)

I'm back! And not like James Brown, but more like Liza Minnelli in a rehab center (This is her month, huh?). I'm back hooked up to an IV, in a hospital bed, being prepped for a major surgery on my lung tomorrow morning.

I'm hoping this post goes through. Because of the hospital network security, I've had to try my hand at the email blogging feature for one last hoorah on the blog before I go under the knife.

This is some major shit, ya'll. They're basically rebuilding the lining of my lungs to reduce the chances of it ever happening again to 2-4%. Better than the 80% chance I'm at now, considering it collapsed a 2nd time the other day when I woke up. And after this procedure, I will have TWO tubes sticking out the side of my chest & will be recovering on the Intensive Care Unit for a few days.

Not exactly sure when I'll be back to normal again (even a lil) but that's why I'm here, to let you all know I'll be out of commission for a bit, at least until those tubes from hell are out of my chest.

Oh LAWDY, they better give me so many drugs. I better not feel any of this & I demand to see unicorns!

I'm gonna miss my garden so much (JUST got started on it), and goofing off with all of you in good health as well. I was just starting to feel 100% back to normal before this happened.

I was convinced I was out of the woods. Ah well, you gotta do what you gotta do to live & nip this shit in the bud.

My apologies for any lack of humor & pictures. Like I said, new blogging method & not such a great set of circumstances right now.

My apologies to anyone I haven't gotten back to in the comments as well. I can't access my blog through this network, so that's why I'm writing this is email & hoping it goes through.

So, I love you all, and like last time, things should be back to normal again before you even know it. I'm also hoping to have a few guest posters during my recovery, so if you're interested in that as well, drop me a line.

Love & light & take care for now, ya'll. Don't do anything I would do.

Love,

Pixi

Don't Eat Barbiturates and Drive, Kids.

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 16:47:00 +0000

So, I know I haven't posted all week, and honestly, I had a few really great ideas at one point, but they completely slipped my mind like boobs in a pool of Jello.

I do, however, have many insane stories in my back pocket, so I figured I'd pop in & share one of those in the meantime, till some of those maybe come flying back to me.

Have you ridden in a car up on a wall?

You should try it. It's exhilarating!

This was an incident that very few pics out there could help in describing, so I doubted myself on if I could draw the scenario out, and this morning it just kind of flowed like wine into Julia Child's cup.

It was a sunny day in Fall, circa 1997. My good friends, whom I guess for legal purposes we'll refer to as Saul & Matty, and myself were having a jolly old time hanging around my homestead.

At one point Saul had decided to take us over to his house in his Impala (which back in that day, was really the pimp of American cars).

Oh 1997, you're so sexy.
Like, kind of detective with a handlebar mustache sexy.

Before we walked out the door we really had no idea how much Phenobarbital Saul had taken. Just that his current girlfriend had recently turned alternating shades of green & as purple as Violet Beauregarde from one of her binges on a balloon full of "candy" he gave her (which nothing says "Darling, I love you. In fact, so much that I'd like to give you this pretty balloon & see you change colors like a goddamn Iguana." as much) & we probably should have known.

All was good until we got to the rail road tracks (you know, where you're supposed to go 20 mph.), and he floors it & starts going 80, and all of a sudden.......

We're. Driving. On. A. Effing. WALL

And as I hear the ruckus in the back & quickly look behind me...

No effing way were his jeans that skinny.
Also, his left leg was way going the other way. Tell Charlie Sheen you can't always win.
Also, I don't know wtf is up with the car here. Just go with it.

Nope, the side of the car wasn't scraping the wall. We were somehow remarkably driving sideways, on a wall, with the car bouncing on the rough stone, pouncing Matty completely around the back seat like a rubber ball, left to right.

It gets better.

We finally escape the wall & Saul turns us onto a side street & decides to turn his head to the back of the car to get a good look at the wall.

I wasn't even messed up, and when I tell you this mofo's face looked as melted as a Van Gogh painting...

Holy Shit!

Lookin' good, man. Lookin'. Damn. F'n. GOOD!!

So here's where I'm wondering who's watching the goddamn road in front of us & figured maybe it was my job to step in here.

And that's how you could tell the weird shit, bug power or whatever the hell he was on, had taken full effect.

Is it needless to say I grabbed the steering wheel & swerved us all from certain death or brain damage?

Now, I know what you're thinking & probably going to say.

But that's the thing about good ol' Saul. He's fucking IMMORTAL.

There are HUNDREDS of incidents where the dip shit, by the laws of nature, should have died.

Among those we've literally seen him fall off a cliff, blow his arm up with explosive gas, smash through glass doors, survive 5+ car accidents, wake up naked on his landlord's couch after hours of trudging waist deep through a swamp in the dead of night, getting his ass kicked while naked hiding in the bushes on his front lawn on angel dust, and I don't have all goddamn day here.

In fact, there should be a series or even a book about the wonderful adventures of Saul, the immortal moron.

There were a few others among the crew almost as messed up as Saul, but he takes the golden taco.

(If you ask me what that means, I cannot tell you. I have no idea!)

So, let that be a lesson to you. If you're going to Liza Minnelli it up

Don't get behind the wheel.

And don't tell me what's possible if you get the right footing.

Also, there could be someone like this where you live.

Have a safe & comfortable weekend!

Spiders & Straight Jackets. EVERYWHERE!!

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 07:15:00 +0000

I'm not sure if you've ever stepped into a car infested by spiders, but if you have you know....

It started about 3-4 years back. My driveway has the largest canopy of tall trees you've ever seen. I assumed they reached their peak in growth & all living things decided to go ape shit, make a brothel out of & take up residence in these gigantic insect & animal nests in the treetops, and I'm pretty sure of it considering the time a flying squirrel shot out of one & flew down over my head in the driveway one night.

No, it wasn't a bat. It was a real flying effing squirrel.

I know because I was convinced I was hallucinating & felt I possibly should have been taken to the hospital for toxicology testing.

"I just saw a flying fucking squirrel."

"Did you really?"

"That's what it looked like, but flying squirrels don't exist, do they?"

"They sure do."

"Then that's surely what the fuck just flew over my head!"

"You sure it wasn't a bat?"

"Noooooo, this was clear as day a goddamn squirrel with wings."

Exactly WTF happened, cept' in the dead of night.
Might as well be my tree.

And if you did happen to look up above, underneath this canopy, you would notice something...

Hundreds of lil white spiders, falling silently from the pre-apocalyptic sky.

Some things I can get over. Spiders? NOT HAPPENING!!

And thanks to parking bans, drunk neighbors with fireworks & all that super fun stuff, we have to park in our driveways around here.

You know spiders like to come out at night, right?

And wouldn't you know, Pixi's like to go out at night as well?

My parents live in the same house, different apartment, and we share the same driveway, though they rarely go out. If they do, it's usually somewhere quick during the day. Obviously their chances of running into a spider in one of the cars are next to nil.

So, during the first year of this, EVERY. NIGHT I go out, I get about halfway to my destination, stop at a light or whatever, and see a big, white spider making its way across the dashboard.

Clearly, this would cause me to pull over in panic, jump out of the car, and on too many occasions than I'd like to admit, the spider was nowhere to be seen by whomever else was sitting next to me because it had scurried back into the vents where they had made their nests.

People thought I was starting to go truly crazy. My anxiety through the roof, hallucinating spiders left & right when nobody else had seen them.

One night I truly lost my mind - I drove down the highway to grab a fountain soda & had only been out of my house for about 10 minutes. I once again see that scurrying lil shadow out the corner of my eye & jump out of the car.

When I jumped out & turned around, they were COVERING the outside of the car.

I called my mother to tell her somebody was going to have to pick me up, and that I indeed was NOT getting back into the car.

Wouldn't ya know, she not only hung up on my ass, there is no doubt in my mind she only wanted to see me safely snug in a straight jacket at that point.

"But marma, the spidey. He said he'd kill me in my sleep. He's in the room!"

I had to collect myself, squeeze back through that door & somehow get home.

At that moment the lil bastard that had sprung me out of the car was in clear view, so I started thrashing around with my pocket book left & right, in the parking lot of this busy drive-thru.

Talk about a mental patient sighting. "She's escaped! And she's assaulting the interior of her car!"

I think I cried (along with a heart rate of 150) the whole way home.

But wouldn't you know, I had my ultimate glimpse of both relief & horror on my birthday last year.

After I spent the summer getting into the car shaking like a patient without their Haldol, we all get into the car that morning to go out for breakfast. I look around nervously, I'm hesitant, but I had surely thought this wasn't the time because it was daytime & dry outside.

I happily lift my iPhone to my face & notice something out of the corner my eye. Really?!?

Yeah, again, me!

What was it?

THE BIGGEST DADDY LONG LEGS YOU HAVE EVER. FLIPPIN'. SEEN!!

Crawling up my leg to say "Happy Birthday, bitch!"

Bloody murder.

That's what I screamed & you better believe it.

Dad frantically pulls the car over. I think by the time he did, I was already out of it & halfway down the street running in circles on this poor normal family's lawn.

But my family?

THEY SAW IT!!

And my father killed the HELL out of it.

I think in his mind it was kind of like

"We've come for your daughter, Chuck."

I don't think any two people had ever felt so bad in their lives for not believing me & the horror I had seen. That was apparent through my reactions & the time it took them to calm down & console me.

There's ultimately a lesson in this story, people: Don't doubt a crazy person. They may not just be crazy most of the time.

Oh yeah, and if you have to park under lots of spider infested trees, get your car exterminated in the summer for Christsakes.

Summer's coming. NOW I'm so afraid, I'm finally seeing spiders that don't exist. I've seen three, but they were raindrops or something of the like.

Try it, arachnid bitch.
I've got a midget knife.

The Story, The Horror, Monkeys, and Patient Controlled Pain Medication

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 23:36:00 +0000

So, a week has gone by and I wanted to get this out of the way as I feel it's getting to that point of "If that bitch makes one more lung joke or reference....'"

I still ask myself if it really happened & probably will for a while.

8:30 p.m., after my day had gone extremely well. I kicked it with George & Jon, got a good news phone call from a dear friend, had an excellent dinner, was excited for the return home of my mother the very next day, after she had been in Florida for three weeks....

And out of nowhere I'm in the car with Jon driving me to the hospital.

Sure, I've gotten chest pains before, even endured the pain of Pleurisy swelling up my lungs a few times in my life after bouts of Chronic Bronchitis.

Something was very different. Something was urgent & telling me I couldn't lie down on my side till it went away, not this time. Something had pretty much paralyzed the entire upper right side of my body, front to back.

The triage nurse wastes no time & I hurriedly follow her to X-Ray.

The technician is a raging bitch until she realizes she sees something on there that she shouldn't.

I overhear the conversation - "What are they talking about? I have what? Where?

A sudden flip of the switch to sympathy & she walks me back to an ER room with a sharp, blunt look of "This is gonna be a long night for you, kid."

Fast forwarding through being informed my lung had spontaneously collapsed (For no reason apparent to them) & the explanation of a possible chest tube procedure, the surgeon comes in & decides to give me an IV, a few mg's of Dilauted & keep me overnight for observation.

"What? I have to stay here?"

My inner child at that moment.

Half an hour to an hour & the X-Ray machine enters the room & this time I'm flying high on pharmaceuticals while they're taking the X-Rays from the bed.

"It's getting bigger. The doctor is coming back, we're gonna do the chest tube."

` "The fuckin' wha again?"

I still didn't quite get what was about to go down here.
Wtf had even happened between my relaxing night & ending up where & how I was.

I saw myself at home the next day dancing around like Mary fucking Poppins, blowing air bubbles out of some lil straw sticking out of my clavicle through a pinhole.

I pretty much didn't realize wtf was going on until the doctor barged in, rolled me over, shot up the side of my breast/underneath my armpit with two bottles of Novocaine, cut me, and plunged a tube 2 in. in diameter of what seemed like PVC piping into my chest cavity, rubbing against my lung with. every. breath.

With a giant box attached to it monitoring my every breath, compressing the air & fluids that need to be drained from my pleural (lung) cavity.

Very similar, my level of shock & the way I felt violated.

The PAIN (After the procedure). Holy shit, the pain this would be for however long this tube would be in was now a new reality I couldn't handle. Because of my Endometriosis, I have a high tolerance to pain meds & "Shit, they're gonna have to kill me.", I thought.

After yet more Dilauted & my new shocking reality along with the discombobulation of what just happened combined with the strong meds, I am taken up to Med/Surg. And in not knowing how I would ever get through the unbearable discomfort, I often wondered why they didn't bar the windows on this unit?

A few different times during my stay, I had to battle the logic in simply getting up & throwing myself out of it.

"Pain. Baaaadd. Bye-Bye", would occasionally run through my head.

These sweet, sweet nurses, lots of them my age & where I once wanted to be, but now on the other side; the patient.

They heard my pleas, they called my doctors, they tried Morphine, more Dilauted, Torodol, Ultram, and it escalated & escalated as I waited for the doctor to come in & say "Okay, let's get this thing out & get you home."

After an entire day waiting in hell, the doctor finally arrived.
First he had heard me cursing to dear Jon (My ex who slept in a recliner beside me in Med/Surg & refused to leave my side the entire time I was in there, God love him) about how long I had been there with this unbearable tube stuck through me already & that the doctor had forgotten me (This was really the intolerable pain speaking), so when he came in he first made it clear he didn't wanna get beat up by a psycho chick with a tube in her chest.

"Now, I don't wanna see you in Shaws sometime down the road & have you throwing bananas at me.
Okay, well just not COCONUTS!"

"Hey, there's the asshole! The doctor guy. Go round up some pineapples."

"I like him."

When he ever uttered the words "Probably tomorrow or the next day", the look of horror on my face was too much for even him to bare. He started stroking my forehead & hair & joking with me to console me, just the like the ER nurse downstairs who tightly held my hand & comforted me through the whole tube procedure. I didn't even cry for my mother as I normally would. I had angels by my side the whole time. I owe those angels so much thanks, I can't even describe it.

(Except for my nurse, Lindsay, whom regardless of being a sweetheart, almost ripped out my tube, stole me an assload of scrubs from the washroom, ripped the giant vat of hand sanitizer off the wall to give to me, stated she had a cardiac problem with an average pulse rate of 120, and is probably too much of a danger for the nursing field. Not to mention that this whole time the girl across the hall is pushing the call button EVERY. FIVE. MINUTES for three days & treating the nurses like shit, and Jon is sitting there on his laptop attempting to hack the bitch on the hospital network, while I'm in so much pain, I can't even scream.)

I was angry that whole day but I gave into the fact that this was only to save my life & I had no choice.

They had a choice, though - To help me manage the pain or watch me tumble out their unit window.
This is when they decided I was a special lil case & brought in an Anesthesiologist to discuss PCA.

Some of you are probably wondering what that is. Well, I'll tell ya because this is where it starts getting good.
Patient. Controlled. Analgesia....
Let me repeat - Patient. Controlled. Analgesia
Their way of shutting up patients yelling for more Morphine every hour. Or really, just their last resort for patients in such excruciating pain that hardly anything will make a dent in it.

So the Anesthesiologist gave me options...
- Morphine (Peppermint)
- Dilauted (Wintergreen)
- Fentanyl (Or Watermelon)

The Dilauted made me too sick & dizzy, the Morphine didn't make a dent, but the big fucking F & I were familiar. It was prescribed to me in duragesic form at the pain clinic.

Now, I'm no idiot & I'm cautious with myself. I'm a medical buff for fucksakes, so I was scared shitless & figured they were out of their ever-lovin' minds when they told me I could press the button to deliver the medicine through my veins every 6 minutes & that the machine itself would lock me out after so many pushes of the button over a period of time to keep any risk of overdose down.

Shit, I was about to take a ride down the motherflippin' euphoria rainbow, and possibly so hard that they have to take your vitals every half hour at the start of the insanity. "The Rainbow Ride" as I'm calling it.

"SOMEBODY KILL ME OR I'LL DO IT MY G'DAMN SELF! WTF is going on here?!"

.
.
.
Then the liquid pain candy machine makes its way into the room.
.
.
.
.

You okay, man? You mellow?
Yeah, you're alright! Pain's easin' up.

.
.
.

And then the moment hits where you realize it's actually possible to overdo it with things you're convinced you have under control.
.
.
.
.

Listen, that dinosaur was supposed to be a unicorn & sometimes you draw things a lil weird & then realize they'd look better with guns, wearing diapers & don't fucking judge me, K.

But it worked. I got sleep that night after I had finally learned not to be afraid to keep pressing that button if I needed it like the nurse told me.

The tube came out the next morning, with the biggest sigh of relief, but they kinda had to pry the pump from my hands, and I'm hitting it as much as I can *Beep Beep* "Patient Lockout" as they were getting ready to take it away.

I floated across the unit that afternoon, in my gown, with my monkey, and went around to the nurses station like it was fn' Cheers & everybody should know my name.
"They're starting me on Percocet now, and where the fuck is Norm, guys?"

And here I am, home, a week later, and sore as HELL!!
And guessing it'll be another week or so before I feel pretty normal again, but I'm getting there. Lots of trouble sleeping with the discomfort.

And there were many comical moments during that stay, but I couldn't exactly write a novel about it here, so I just included all the key moments.

Now, where's that pain medicine button again?
Aww.......... Shit.................

________________________________________________________

On a few side notes: I would like to bring up the Blog Of War.
(No, I'm not a participant, but rather an observer of the contest.)

Mr. B over at BlackLOG has been advertising it & was searching for more interested participants.
I'm not sure if I'm already passed the deadline for mentioning it at this point, but if you're interested, please go visit BlackLOG for the details. This blogger is so talented with his style of comical writing, I'd love to see a few people go head to head.. ;~}

And lastly, I have a new Facebook account especially for my blogging buddies, so if you intermingle the two & have such an account, Friend me on that shit. It's fun over there, and inappropriate 90% of the time, I promise.

Hope you all had a great weekend, and things should be back to normal here before you know it.

Absence Makes the........Lung Re-Inflate?

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 02:41:00 +0000

Okay.

Much as I would like to make this long & thoroughly explanatory, I am still very sore at & around the sight of my incision & I'm trying to rest the whole right side of my body for a few more days.

Wednesday night I was rushed to the hospital with a spontaneously collapsed lung. I was just released this morning, and to say I've just been through the scariest & one of the most draining experience of my life would be a great understatement.

I just wanted to jump on here & let my lovelies know I haven't abandoned you, and as much I'd love to jump right back into the swing of things, I need to give myself a few more days of rest & recovery now that I'm finally home. I've been so shaken, scared, traumatized, and will be pretty sore all week & forced to take it easy due to the tube that was surgically inserted through the side of my chest for 4 days.

I may just end up going into detail over the whole experience once I feel fully healed up, pin-pointing the humorous & touching moments of even a near death experience. Could it be any other way with me, scary as it was?

I love ya'll, and just wanted to let you know that as well as why I haven't been around.

And this....

If you're ever one of those disrespectful douchebags who doesn't understand or appreciate this, I'll kick you in the shins.

Don't make me kick you in the shins. My back hurts.

Love & miss you, my dearies. Hoping to be well back in the swing of things soon.

~XoXoXo~

That Friend When You're Growing Up

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 09:33:00 +0000

With the car that was a total hazard & danger to society.
(It could have even been YOU.)

For us that would have been Damien.
(Okay, there were a few but none quite like this.)

Damien was already a lil fucked up, but he was more just one of those kids that didn't always have the best of luck.

He would roll through my door in his wave of teen angst & my ex & I would cheer him up & console him, being his last friendly visit on the way home.

So, you know, finally it happens, and Damien inherits his first car.

We hear about how amazing this mechanical piece of work is, so we stand out on the curb & await the moment.

"Jon, what's that?

"What?"

"Did you hear a gun shot?

Are those birds flying south for the winter?"

And there it was, struggling to turn onto my street worse than a tugboat in despair, with a tailpipe that made it both audibly & visually obvious it was prepared to start the mother of explosions at any moment.

1970 Cadillac Eldorado.

Except Damien's ElDorado was no shiny cool blue. It was beige with rusted spots of brown.

I was so convinced this car could be the start of the apocalypse I had officially tried to ban it from driving up my street.

"He can't come by here in that car.
He's going to kill us all!"

*BANG*

"Cover your ears & DUCK for fucksake! Run! Ruuun!!"

My version of Damien's car.

Yes, I'm well aware of the irony that a kid named after the spawn of Satan drove Satan's Cadillac.

And although the very first car I owned is now considered a derby favorite...

Anyone remember the movie "Crazy People" where the guy was madly in love with the Saab Turbo hatchback? Yeah, that's how I felt about this car at the time. That's why I bought it. Don't ask. My sister had the same one.

It wasn't exactly plotting for world destruction. Actually, all that car needs is a giant over-sized panda in the back window & you're good to go.

Whereas the 1970 ElDorado seemed to have a lust for war & mayhem.

It was mean, cold, and ugly. The beast had a mind of its own.

It probably backed into the woods at night & planned some of the most evil things known to man.

It was out for blood.

A car like that only serves one purpose.

(As long it's far the hell away from me, always, making sounds & expelling gases like that.)

Please observe.

One night it finally happened - Lil Satan was spotted on a main road with the car of death wrapped around a telephone pole like Christmas ribbon as he sat there on the curb in the cloud of black smoke having a pity party for one.

I rejoiced in the reality that the beast could no longer threaten to harm life on this planet.

And I think many of us rejoiced that we wouldn't have to look at it again.

Many first car stories always seem to be entertaining, esp. if you're going back in time to cars from the 70's-early 90's. As much as it produced a few cool cars, this era really knew how to produce fugly.

You see those tailpipes? BAD. ASS!
You'd have to be insane not to drive off of the lot with this beauty brand spankin' new, am I wrong?
"Carol, look what I bought today! AWW YEAH."
- "Uum, nio....Nope."

Now if only my first could have been an older BMW bubble car.

Now, imagine if you had to go kick somebody's ass driving this thing.

You'd look so bad ass getting up & out the front of that half a roller skate like that, probably hitting your nuts or what have you on the wheel.

Make sure to honk the horn while you're yelling you're gonna kick their ass. I can imagine what that sounds like. That's gotta strike the fear of god in em'.

I actually just read that they're infamous for the steering wheels coming off. Who woulda thunk?

What does it matter?

If you're ever driving a car like that & you don't look like this...

My sincerest apologies to Thundercat. It's like not even funny.

You better not try to get out in front of me cause I'm gonna push your ass right back in & send you.........probably off a cliff.

Back down the mountain, whatever, depends on your attitude.

I've wandered off topic once again, but with clowns & bubble cars & I really do apologize for that.

If you have a story like I have with Damien, well, you know just how funny that shit is.

It hit me the other day how I haven't seen anything on the road like it since, and how glad I am about that.

No Funny Here Today, I Am Sorry (Devastation Content)

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 18:15:00 +0000

No, I don't feel I should limit what I blog about if I really want to speak up about something.

Granted, nothing is better for the heart & soul like comedy, but I am a human being who lives through other emotions as well.

(If you don't like it & absolutely must laugh through everything, I'm sorry you're weird. You'll have to excuse me. I get over emotional sometimes.)

And I particularly apologize to new followers. This is not my usual content at all.

Fear.

Sadness.

Devastation.

August 29th, 2005, a dreadful day as you may remember, a category 3 hurricane (A.K.A. Katrina) struck New Orleans, Louisiana.

My ignorance held me under the impression that nothing this catastrophic could happen, and most certainly not right here in the U.S.

Your home? Your great city? The foundation on which you had built your entire life?

It was an extreme awakening for most of the country.

It CAN happen. It HAS happened to people you know & love, just like it's happened to others in other countries, and maybe now we can acquire some damn sympathy for the devastation which takes place beyond our own "turf".

(This is a problem with many Americans, don't try to deny that shit.)

At this very moment I am watching our cozy, dolled up lil anchorwomen smile & discuss this catastrophe with the look of a thrill in their eyes, as families in Japan are full of tears, pain, and utter devastation.

I'm sure a wave of debris & bodies crashing through the building & sweeping your peachy looking ass away would give you something to smile & crack jokes about.

"Winter's been tough, lemme tell ya. Hahaha!"

Fuck you, lady.

You don't know tough besides trying to find a new hairstyle that's not from 1983 & where you're gonna meet your posh ass friends for lunch this week.

(Excuse me, that pisses me off.)

Whether there was a possibility of it happening to us or not (and there is without a doubt), this country needs to develop a keener sense of empathy. As well as some major concern.

As many earthquakes & cyclones that have occurred in Haiti since the 1700's with it's last major catastrophic event recorded in 1946, "A magnitude 8.0 earthquake that struck the Dominican Republic and shook Haiti on 4 August, producing a tsunami that killed 1,790 people and injured many others." courtesy of Wikipedia...

The new & technologically advanced (and ignorant, my honest apologies but I have been one of those people too) world saw devastation the likes of which we never thought we would - January 10th, 2010 a 7.0 earthquake hits Haiti. "An estimated three million people were affected by the quake; the Haitian government reported that an estimated 316,000 people had died, 300,000 had been injured and 1,000,000 made homeless. The death toll has also been suggested to be much lower at somewhere between 92,000 and 220,000, with around 1.5 million to 1.8 million homeless. The government of Haiti also estimated that 250,000 residences and 30,000 commercial buildings had collapsed or were severely damaged." 90% of the town at the epicenter was utterly destroyed.

(Do you think about how these people have been living when you prance out onto your tile floor in the morning, in your snuggy, and smear jelly all over your delicious fresh baked bagel? You think those people would like some of that just as you would if you were homeless, trudging through dangerous infested waters? You think about when their last meal was, when their last peaceful sleep might have been?)

And with very recent events in Japan along with reports of tsunami waves possibly headed for multiple other countries, including the west coast of The Unitied States, perhaps some will wake up a bit more now?

Right now residents of low lying U.S. communities have been urged to evacuate.

Ask yourself "How long before events like this hit someone I love or right where I live?"

"What are these people really going through as we sit here comfortably & sip our gourmet coffee watching the news?"

Do you think something may be going on with our planet, particularly over the past 10 years or so that we can ignore awareness of?

(Did you know that on Jupiter, on which there is a visible belt of various latitudes, there is a constant anticyclonic storm that may now be a permanent feature of the planet? A storm "large enough to contain two or three planets of Earth's diameter". Who knows what it once was.)

Back to the topic at hand, I felt it when it happened in NOLA. I felt it when it hit Haiti, and it's becoming evermore apparent now. Geological devastation is more rampant.

I am of the opinion something is slowly changing that we need to take heed of.

Put down the fish tacos & wake the fuck up, America. Just because it doesn't happen doesn't mean it can't, and suddenly.

How long do you think we're going to live in our lil bubble while comets & cyclones fly by & shit, not to mention the ever so popularly ignored blood spilling all over foreign soil.

Ah, I know, I got it - We're so damn special the gods built us an invisible shield dome, therefore we don't have to worry about that shit.

Fucked up as it is, it's not far from what most people believe.

I LOVE my country more than any other I could ever love, but my disappointment, and sometimes disgust, in some of its inhabitants is something I'll never at times be able to fathom.

Now, please pray for Japan, and every region affected by such tragedy in the not-so-distant pass, and all the folks it could possibly still affect.

Please feel some damn empathy for your fellow humans.

And count your blessings, people. Count your blessings. They're precious.

Be thankful you don't have to flee nor start your life from the ground up today & live through all that comes with that.

WTF Happens Here (Applesauce & Shiz)

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 12:15:00 +0000

It's not a myth - Most kids hate vegetables!

Notice I didn't say "all" and I do love how I hear more & more these days about youngens loving their vegetables, but in my opinion this is kind of like a new trend such as the whole foods craze, because growing up when I did you signed the petition & hopped on the anti-vegetable committee, if only in your mind, but you still made a pact with yourself.

I remember my grandmother in Florida threatening me to eat her string beans as I cried & pouted & rebelled for over two hours.

I think I eventually ended up snorting some up my nose in dismay.

(Not limited to just veggies...)

Things like applesauce, Spinach, Squash, Zucchini, Tapioca, and Kidney Beans made me want to cry at the mere thought of them.

Things like turnip were unheard of, but you'd give the word a lil giggle

("Mofos & old people food." That's what you were thinking, right?)

And now?........

NOW?!?

Better watch your back cause I'll come up on your ass in the grocery store & run you down on one of them scooters like Santa on the way to his Amphetamine dealer.

Gimme all your vegetables!

This dude's packing some serious drugs in those boxes, not dollies & chocolates.

I've come for your brussels sprouts.

Just kidding. I don't even like brussell sprouts.

I'll never like those. I'm not that crazy.

In fact, brussels sprouts & cabbage should get together for a suicide orgy.
I'm pretty sure brussels sprouts are actually just the evil demon spawns of the unholy that is cabbage.

I'm also pretty sure this is what an adult candy store looks like...

Not even sure if they both are cabbage. Who cares, it is the Antichrist.

But my taste buds go into frenzies for crisp, fresh bell peppers, tomato slices, stalks of celery, grilled asparagus & corn, piles of plain, boiled spinach with nothing on it.

It goes deeper - I require applesauce. I wouldn't be insane enough to have pork chops without it.

I love tapioca balls, and I so have to refrain from making a statement here about them in my mouth.

(*Wipes sweat off brow*)

I didn't......but I like, did......Know what I mean?

But back to the topic at hand, could you pass me those turnips? Because I seem to have left my entire dinner just to eat the whole bowl.

In fact, every thing's dead in the garden because I was out there earlier eating all the seedlings out of the ground like a fuckin' Brontosaurus.

More re-fried beans, please!!

How long before I'm using my senior discount card to enjoy a nice, cold prune juice on tap?

Maybe garnished with a radish. *Vomit*

It kind of just progresses- Loving the things we once had an absolute hatred for as we grow older.

And you know it goes much deeper than vegetables because it's happened to you too.

Don't deny it. We all have things we love that we once hated or turned us off.

Now I'm thinking I should cut this off before it goes where the tapioca thing went...

Ever had something you've grown more fond of that you maybe once despised?

(Did you hate your damn veggies? Did you snort pole beans? Cause I totally didn't, although I can't remember what had happened to those things that night. The trauma that was blanked it out.)

Or better yet, some tastes you just know will never change for you? Like cabbage & lentils.

Could you hand me that bag please? Thanks.

Too Great An Honor

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Sat, 05 Mar 2011 16:34:00 +0000

I'll say it again. I know I've intended to take on a new way of linking & passing on awards under my f'n flair page.

I started this when I received the same one for the second time so you wouldn't have to see me go through all the motions again & just come here to get your entertaining read on (As much of a huge honor it was to receive it from the person I did), but I find myself unable to let something I consider as prestigious as this honor & brand new award slip under the radar.

Do you have a blogging soul mate out there (Someone who just gets the way your mind works)? Maybe a few?

And maybe it took you a while to find em'. I feel lucky to have found mine pretty quickly.

Don't let the name fool you, brilliant as I think it is.

Kelly is not some knife wielding clown who wants to sell your organs on the carnival black market.

He is a joker, a radical thinker, an exceptionally kind soul, exceptionally wise soul, and an incredibly talented & imaginative, untamed writer of both fact & fiction.

Kelly has the unique ability to see the world around us with the naked, unpolished eye.

The true freaks, the conformists, society for what it is today, things a lot of people sadly seem to ignore these days. "Where the hell are we going, and why is the world as effed up as it is?"

Shit we shouldn't be ignoring. And all this relevance combined with humor so well written, I always have a rosy glow from laughing so hard after a visit to his blog.

And he has just recently created & bestowed upon me his new award for Originality.

How awesome is that?!

Click here to visit the laugh your ass adventure that is Psycho Carnival

The rules are as follows......

First- Copy, paste and display these rules and this award upon your blog, if you so desire.

Second- Give this award to anyone who exemplifies originality, in some way, in their blog.

Third and Three Quarters- Answer this most important question: Ketchup or Pygmies?

Fourth- Write an original thought (or something that seems like a rare idea) or display a photo for everyone to stare at, in awe, that will cause the peeps to fall down upon their knees and smile with tears of profound realization. Or just say the first thing that comes to mind.

Fifth- Give a link to the one who bestowed the award to you. No, I don't mean a savory sausage link. That's the image I just saw in your mind. Amazing, yes?

As for passing this on, there is definitely a blogger who immediately came to mind.

Anyone here who has been to her blog knows what I'm talking about.

Thundercat832 of Colorful Rants of A Fed Up Sista

Now anyone who may be unfamiliar with this blog may be thinking "But Pixi, many people rant, many blog about their life, and occasionally life in general."

Maybe. But nobody is as fucking awesome sauce & engages their readers in such a way that I've seen.

Talk about sinking your teeth into a blog. She wants your opinions, she wants your experiences, and she is so wise & so good to everyone who crosses her path. She responds to every single commenter with genuine focus on what they're saying. She is verbally shameless (<3) & hilarious, and if there were anymore to love about this girl & her blog, my head would explode!!

For the love of god, check these two bloggers out!!

Time for Three & Three Quarters -

Answer this most important question: Ketchup or Pygmies?

I could quote where you gave the answer on Facebook, but that would be the easy way out, wouldn't it?

Obviously I'm going to go with lil hunting dwarfs who live in the forest over something made from tomtaoes with a spoogey consistency.

I'm gonna do you one better, my good friend-Tackle all three.

You mean like camera lenses behind the eyeballs by 2030, or windshield wipers for spectacles?

Which turns out is completely unoriginal...

As for "a photo for everyone to stare at, in awe, that will cause the peeps to fall down upon their knees and smile with tears of profound realization"

Realize THIS...

I just blew your mind.

Or completely disabled it.

(Oh, I'm good!)

Sorry you're not smiling (I can see you), but probably just listening to your brain fizzle out.

The realization is "The strung-out naked man gets the early breakfast" or some shit like that.

I really haven't had sufficient sleep.

As for the tears, you should be crying from the realization that there's no goddamn bacon coming up over the horizon.

And the first thing that comes to mind - Trees. With wild pubes. Don't ask. I won't be able to tell you because I have no idea why.

I really don't become human until around noon.

That's why I almost forgot the link.

And now that I'm unsure if what kind of link that refers to; a blog, something the recipient enjoys, some good porn..

So I'm going to pull a random rabbit out of my asshat for this one...

So much love & farts.

A Twenty Spot & You Too Can Look Pretty Much Horrifying

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 15:26:00 +0000

I know tanning can be a controversial subject; the potentially harmful effects on the skin, yada, yada, but that's not what we're discussing here today. No, today it's about the fact that I have been somewhat addicted to that cocoa glow on & off for years now, and yes, I tan indoors occasionally because it gets you evenly, quickly, and you don't have to bead sticky sweat under the blazing sun for hours to get a beautiful color.

Mere minutes, some crazy, incredibly high-powered fans, grooving to some music in the nude & you're a walking bronze statue. How could some pasty Irish girl not be alll over that shit?!

So, even though I'm convinced I know what I'm doing with my excessive moisturizing & avoiding burning, my fears still creep up on me once in a while. ESP. with my Irish skin. What if I start getting those spots?!

I don't want to end up one of those women who's a walking piece of beef jerky & skin soup because she fried herself constantly for 20+ years like a leather wrapped strip of bacon.

As you may know, there are many alternatives nowadays. You know, from instant tanning lotions that don't work to pills that turn you fucking orange.

I call bullshit on where all the oompa loompas came from.
I'll give you a hint-Spring break.

Considering I recently started tanning again, I've been reminded of my spray tanning incidents gone awry.

So, in the past few years Mystic Tan has come out with something I figured was the answer-The Mystic Tans spray tanning booth.

It seemed to be the answer for many people with fears of the risks of tanning, it had to be the answer for me, right?

Well, this is where I point out to you that this pixi's luck in some arenas may be a lil different and that I've learned time & time again that what works for most probably isn't going to go right for my ass.

So, on this day of my first spray tan I am so psyched. I have a weekend long date in VT with this hot guy I liked (Who turned out to be the loser of losers & careless, shitfaced drivers, but another story for another time maybe), and I'm happy I'm able to pull off weeks worth of tanning in one 6 minute spray session.

I don't buy all the special before lotions they suggest because the ditz behind the counter tells me I can do without it & gave me some simple lotion they had on hand, so I pick out my color cartridge & head for the booth.

The booth............

(The robotic goddamn gas chamber)

"I will break your legs, boss you around, and spooge in your face."

I had no idea this was really the case till it was too late.

I walk into Captain Picard's lil capsule there onto this octagon metal floor traced with footprint patterns.

I wasn't sure if this was like one of those Dance Dance Revolution games where I had to dance to the Macarena just to turn this on, but because of the cheap lotion (And my lack of booties. And how TF was I supposed to know I needed booties), I was slipping & sliding all over this thing like I was fighting for dear life.

I finally get a lil bit of a grip & insert my cartridge (Uh haha, Beavis), and this voice echoes from all corners like fucking 2010 Space Odyssey.

I have no time to think or even blink before I start getting hosed down in this chemical substance that smells so toxic it really seems like no living thing on this earth should be within 100 miles of it.

This robot bitch is yelling at me, telling me to move my feet onto all different numbered footprints & positions with my naked ass in a shower cap while this machine is giving me golden showers from every angle & I'm just trying so hard not to breathe or break my legs, and this lil routine either unlocks some key to the universe or it's a futuristic game of nuclear Twister. Either way it's like McDonalds meat-I'm hatin' it.

The only thing this was missing was a robotic hand that picks you up & slams you into the walls till you're knocked unconscious.

Here's an older, less deluxe version.

See what I mean? For that type of shit I at least expect breakfast in the morning.

I was thrilled a few hours later when I noticed myself getting darker & darker, and the color itself did look natural.

But when I got to Vermont & was sitting on a grassy knoll with my date in my cute lil mini skirt & noticed my Zebra legs, it wasn't so awesome.

I KNOW it's not a Zebra. It's a Jack Ass, take a hint.

Now this is an ongoing issue with me & you're bound to hear the words "You'd think I had learned my lesson" many times in the future of this blog.

Because a year later I found myself in some weird no name tanning salon that was probably just someone's basement, naked & being sprayed from a canister I swear I have in my garage, by some weird lady, only to have it start raining the second I walked out of there, and have YOU ever seen somebody literally peel & chip like the led paint on an old house?

Remember Death Becomes Her?

I could have used my own mortician too.

This IS what happens when spray tanning goes wrong.

It's like, The Hulk dipped in golden hershey squirts.
The guy on the right, not the one on the left.

I'm going to stick with the lamps until there's a better solution or I learn to do that shit right me thinks.
I mean, even if it can look normal on some people when done right, the facts are still the facts. The reality is a lot like this till your next few showers & tanning session....

Be smart. No one takes a clown seriously.

Irrational Fears, the Post

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 01:41:00 +0000

I know I seem odd to some for my fear of balloons, but honestly, things could be weirder.

I have a fear of balloons because they can be dangerous & I have 10 million mini heart attacks in that moment one of those things pops. I'll be sure to attend no birthday parties if I live to be 80-90. Death by balloons? Nio thank you.

(My mother used to fear balloons & dogs & she once babysat for these kids that kept sending their violent lil Chihuahua to chase her around the table while they popped balloons all over the place. Needless to say she ran home crying.)

However, Billy's reference towards balloon tits & penises in his last comment did remind me that I do love balloon animals. Maybe their likeliness to pop a whole lot less has something to do with it too.

(In honor of Billy. Obviously someone out there knows what a fun time is. Mr. Happy is the perfect gift for your neighbor's doorstep. Puts a whole new spin on ding dong ditch.)

Who ISN'T going to love making silly or angry balloon penises?

According to our almighty lord, Google, this is the true definition of balloon penis....

I added the Groucho glasses. His bush was a lil offensive in the first place.

Though I did not intend for this to turn into a post about penises & balloon games, so moving on already.....

This balloon thing is about to get a lot less weird.

I know people who fear giraffes, marshmallows, butterflies, pennies.

(And I LOVE them for making me feel a whole lot less crazy.)

Thankfully, some of these fears seem to have much validation, so I guess it's good that I know a lil more than just a bunch of mentally insane people.

"The Giraffe Ate My Jacket"

(A tale of zoo animals, Finkelstein shit kids, and terror)

My best friend growing up, Kerri (A.K.A. Karl Malone), was a lil bastard of a kid. She would run her mouth, taunt things, always do stupid shit for a laugh, and from about the age of 6-10 Kerri had a mushroom cut to boot. She was a lil terror with a bad ass (but funny) haircut & a bad attitude.

One day Karl was at the zoo, standing outside the giraffe exhibit, totally leaving out the fact that she was probably taunting the shit out of this animal. I can hear it now "Haha, longy long neck, ugly ass giraffe, you want a piece of me?!"

Well, I guess before Kerri knew it this giraffe had her by the jacket, literally eating it off her body as this giant ass animal is slamming the lil bastard against the fence that stood between them, floppy mushroom cut n' all.

Kerri had managed to slip out of the jacket just in time but was left scarred for life.

And considering I had now idea about the normal behaviors of these things until now, I would be too.

Horny, Hungry Giraffes Gone Wild.

Luckily for her the chances of being sexually assaulted by the giraffe were probably slim considering that according to Sodahead, 50% of all male giraffes are homosexual.

Turns out he probably just wanted her jacket for his village people shindig.
(I bet you that horses name is Ralph.)

Unfortunately, I have no explanations for the marshmallows, butterflies, pennies, and other things people have personally told me they are afraid of.

So here's where we turn the rest of the work over to the phobia list. Take it away, lunatics....

phobialist.com

Alliumphobia- Fear of garlic.

Anthrophobia or Anthophobia- Fear of flowers.

Log dude isn't half as frightening as flying placenta guy. I can take that asshole in the middle, but happy, flying placenta is just too fucking creepy.

Arachibutyrophobia- Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth.

Apeirophobia- Fear of infinity.

Apotemnophobia- Fear of persons with amputations.

"Dicks."

Aulophobia- Fear of flutes.

Consecotaleophobia- Fear of chopsticks.

Euphobia- Fear of hearing good news.

Geniophobia- Fear of chins.

Ligyrophobia- Fear of loud noises.

So, what are you afraid of - Cake, nipples, maybe this post?

(I fear tighty whities as well. I can deal with them if I have to but they're f'n scary. I'm sorry.)

7 Facts (Or "Confessions" Because It's Just A Juicier Word)

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Thu, 24 Feb 2011 10:07:00 +0000

So, I've been tagged by the lovely Marty of The Many Faces of Me for 7 Facts.

I just recently started following her & think she is awesome, so you should go check her out!

The rules are as follows......

* Copy and paste this award to your blog
* Thank and link to the person that tagged you with it.
* List 7 facts about yourself
* Give the award to 5 other bloggers and tell them they have it.

I know I've started a new habit of receiving awards & passing them on under my F'n Flair page rather than in a post, but I am trying to get my readers & others to know a lil more about me, as well as posting a lil more often, and it is an easier way of passing it on.

So, let the ~~horror~~ games begin.

1. I am shit scared of the dark, ghosts, and balloons.

2. I'm an adrenaline junkie & into X-treme sports. I've had my fair share of skateboarding friends, and I'm the only person I/they know who can ride a skateboard goofy foot (Meaning I always put my right foot on the board first & push with my left. It takes skateboarders ages to master this, yet I can't skate the normal way), and barefoot.

3. I grew up on boats. When I was a tot my grandparents lived on a houseboat & then owned a marina in the Florida Keys, and every summer weekend back home my immediate family & I would spend the whole time on our cabin cruiser (even sleeping). We would get up on the water with the sunrise & go everywhere by boat. I was actually surprised when I learned you could even get to some of those places by car about 20 years later.

4. Supposedly the average man thinks about sex every seven seconds. I think I got em' beat.

(I'm the furthest thing from whorey, though. I call it monogamously slutty.)

5. I haven't slept a night in over 2-3 years without my stuffed monkey

6. I took piano lessons for a few years, then went on to teach myself guitar for about 6 more, and there's not much I can't learn/play on that thing. (Now I got stars in my eyes for the drums.) I'm a music FANATIC.

7. My hobbies are nearly endless from clothes making to baking to gardening to decorating, and an ongoing list of crafting & designing whatever I can. And those are just some of my at home hobbies. I love to be out & about just as much. The list is way too long.

My Tagged Five

(Should they choose to accept)

Kelly from Psycho Carnival

Thundercat832 from Colorful Rants of A Fed Up Sista

Israel Carrasco of Israel Carrasco Monologue Jokes

Lynnora from Thoughts of A Randomista

Jenny from My Life As Jenny

Time for WTF Theater

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Sat, 19 Feb 2011 08:44:00 +0000

I recently got around to thinking about movies that seriously mess up your mind & make you question what the hell happened in the end (or just through the whole damn thing), and I think I got some good mentionables on my lil list here.

We've all seen em'. Those movies that leave you sitting there utterly unable to close your jaw or un-wrinkle your forehead.

I know there are many more movies to add to this fun lil list, and I'll leave that up to you, but I'm going to focus on my top three here.

1. American Psycho

Okay, maybe this ending made sense to most people, but it left me a lil pissed off that I didn't get it.

Patrick Bateman is a wall street yuppie with serious OCD, and a lust for blood & hookers.

It all begins when he murders his co-worker, Paul Allen, in a raincoat in his living room with an axe, the whole time raving about how much he loves Huey Lewis & The News.

Just tell him you love Huey Lewis, dude. He's all bent out of shape.

This leads to a series of bizzare murders, including running down the hallway naked with a chainsaw, chasing a hooker, and dropping it on her ass from three floors up.

"Here's looking at you, hooker. I think I just crapped my pants."

But it all becomes fucky to me towards the end when he supposedly blows up cop cars & has helicopters after him, hiding under a desk, calling his lawyer. Then, meets his buddies for lunch the next day & nobody fucking cares & somehow he's now become Paul Allen, that other yuppie he hacked to death, and omg, why did this whole thing just become more complicated than a confused teenage girl?!

Was he Paul Allen to begin with? Did he imagine himself as Patrick Bateman & the whole thing?

Was that first yuppie back at his apartment a representation of the old him he wanted to kill off?

(Clearly, I just clarified my own confusion. Did I?)

Maybe. Moving on.

2. The Naked Lunch

Holy NEVER watch this movie on hallucinogens like my girlfriend had me years ago!

This guy's a writer/journalist, I kind of don't remember, and he comes home one night to some dude banging his wife on the couch as another guy is standing by reading excerpts from the bible. He casually walks across the room & she staggers over & places an apple on her head. He then aims with an arrow & misses the apple, shooting his wife in the head, while the whole time the other dude is still reading the bible.

Then he gets turned onto bug powder & starts getting ridiculously high off this stuff.

Like, he was so high on bug powder his typewriter began to turn into this giant beetle type thing & starts talking to him.

At some point I'm sure this thing turns into a giant vagina, but I could have been imagining that!

Don't think it could get worse?

He starts hanging out with this guy next.

Meanwhile, no one has any idea wtf all these drug induced space age creatures are trying to tell this guy, and who cares, because this is just too fucking weird for words.

It makes no sense to me beginning to end, he just keeps getting higher & higher, and shit just gets weirder & weirder. The end.

3. Lost Highway

King of cinematic WTF's

HEYYYYYYYY!! What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On. HERE?!?

They're at home. Some weird tape arrives in the mail. I forget what's on it.

They're at a party. There's that weird guy creeping everybody out, and omg wasn't he that guy that murdered that chick in real life, like, for real, for real?

Phil Specter Murder Trial

My own blog is going to give me horrible nightmares because that's what THAT is the face of, my friends.

Bill Pullman's wife's personality & hair keep changing color (at least he thinks it's his wife), and all you can really gather is that she was somehow involved in porno (with horrible German music) & he didn't know about it.

He's driving down a highway. For like, a really long time.

I think he's lost. He should have been given a titular line.

"I'm so lost on this goddamn highway."

Oh, look there's a house. It's creepy video camera guy again, which is probably a sign you're about to die, and he refuses to tell you about your weird wife's vagina.

How can we really tell how it ends when the whole damn movie just lacks too much damn sense to comprehend or even remember.

Over the top, David Lynch. Over the top.

This one might have been better off at a fucked up mime porno film festival.

And that concludes our episode of WTF Theater.

I know you got some up your sleeve, or have seen one, or all, of these movies.

If you know any good ones, feel free to add them to the WTF list.

Asshat Dork Disorder? (OMG, Candy Balls!)

noreply@blogger.com (LilPixi) — Thu, 17 Feb 2011 20:56:00 +0000

Or in MY case, better known as Adult A.D.D.

(There are monkeys on monkey bars, playing inside my head like a jungle gym right. now.)

My silly, hairy lil friends. They're so goddamn funny.......until they bite someones face off. Why always with the face?

Regardless, I was one of them too you know, transported from laboratory to laboratory as shrinks watched me throw building blocks & beach balls around the room, and you know what the last one told me?

"I think you are suffering from adult attention deficit disorder."

This is where the Price Is Right theme song starts going through my head.

Omg, Sherlock, I think you're onto something because the whole time we've been sitting here I've been racing down the highway in some type of bat mobile to some Top Gun type shit, maybe even traveling another country, maybe wearing flying goggles again, in my mind, and by the way how much are they paying you because I don't think I'm the one suffering here.

Trying to explain ADD in detail while also being a victim of it is kind of like having a strobe light seizure & feeling compelled to hang yourself with your own tongue.

(That was a lil too gruesome, even for me, and pretty much downright disturbing.)

Or maybe it's like being pumped full of coffee till it explodes out your eyes & ears.

(It's probably not like either of those.)

Omg, people, holy random Fabio nose bleed on a roller coaster & an apple pie, where was I?

Yes.......... Moments I knew when it had finally escalated out of hand.

*Peering at the TV for hours*

"Aaaaahahaha! You're laughing. Did you see that?"

"What?"

*Continues to gaze deeply into the TV screen*

"What's going on?"

"Are you even paying attention?"

"OH.....Uhhhh........nno."

"WTF?!?"

Honestly, I think that's because your company just bored me & I was busy thinking about having fun & horsin' around & things that involve fire & adrenaline & shit. More than likely something involving monkeys (or bananas) as well. Or things very similar to both.

A.D.D - For the depressed, easily bored & distracted, both? You decide.

But you know when I feel particularly insecure of it at times lately?

I love to read other blogs, and it's extraordinarily rare that a blog ever bores me because I love & appreciate all the differences & different walks of life, but it's so hard for me to sit & read anything for too long.

(God bless mobile devices. Makes it a lil better. It actually HELPS sometimes to have other things going on around me. Somehow, this actually helps me focus better on what I'm intending to.)

So it's irritating when I go to read, intend to catch up, get through an older yet still recent post, comment, intend to get through & comment on the next one as well & OHMYGODLETMEFINDTHATMACNCHEESERECIPE!

And the next thing I know I'm in the middle of a Velveeta stare down & it went from reading & laughing a great post to sailing the seas of cheese with kaleidoscope eyes, milking cows & traveling to cheese factories around the world, and "if you fed a cow a whole shit ton of Hershey's syrup, would it squirt chocolate milk?".

(Kaleidoscope Cheese Wheel was the name of my old imaginary garage band. Or rather, now I realize it should have been.)

How cool would it be if the cracker crumbs were lil shipwrecked boats?

And then when asked what happened to the eagerly awaited side dish explain how I had to save my friends.

"Sorry everybody, we're eating out tonight, but it would only be right to have a moment of silence for all those men lost at sea."

And everyone says "WTF?!"

And you plead insanity. Because you can now, and aside from pretty much being the truth, it saves you from being that flaky blond chick.

Meanwhile, that page I was last on before my mind (& feet) shot up like a rocket is still open in my browser as I'm more than likely shooting silly string around the yard in a colander helmet, or WHO KNOWS?! Sadly, I'm not trying to be funny. I've always been like this.

If I could control the ADD, you'd be the last ones I'd ever "flake out" on, so here's where I extend my apologies If I ever have.

The relentless bastard has me in it's grip. Maybe it's the impairment for those with a lust for adrenaline, or rather, the completely crazy. Either way, (until the right cure or medication, at least) I'm stuck with it.

Aww, it loves me.

(On a serious note: I realize this IS a disorder that's not so funny when it's truly affecting your life as it has mine. I just look at the lighter, humorous side of everything, that's my thing. So don't think I'm not understanding any of you out there who's lives have been affected by A.D.D.)

Now go fetch these keys!! You know you want to.