Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Sweet Silly Psycho Sydney

I have a little stuffed Loch Ness monster on the dresser in my room. Sydney likes to sprawl out on the dresser whenever I am in bed. Everyday, she hops up there, sees Nessie and then poor Nessie gets vanquished to the floor. Syd usually stares ole Nessie down first before attacking. After the battle is over, she looks down at it and then at me as if to say "I really beat her good, didn't I Mom".

I was singing in the shower on Sunday morning and Syd began either fussing very loudly or singing along. When I got out, she was in her usual powder room perch - the sink. I'm gonna have to snitch the Mothership's camera and post some pics of the cute little nutcase.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Yay! Funny!

Hilarious "comic" strip of the Fox News folks from Striving for Average.

Update: The Bird Flew Epidemic and The Magic Finger are also spit-coffee-on-the-moniter-funny as well. Consider this your warning.

Yet Another Update: Yeah, yeah, I know... You HAVE to read MMMMM Road Kill. I laughed so hard I cried and I'm still shaking now. Oh, chest pains, bad... Go. Now. Don't eat or drink anything first, tho.

A Marine's View of Iraq

A recently returned Marine's notes on the soldiers' favorite weapons, ammo, etc. It's a little long but it is definately worth reading through to the end.

The blog it was found on - Mostly Cajun - belongs to a man whose house was wiped out in Hurrcaine Rita. Good reading.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

What Kind Of Princess Are You?

The Noble Princess

You are just and fair, a perfectionist with a
strong sense of proper decorum. You are very
attracted to chivalry, ceremony and dignity.
For the most part you are rather sensible, but
you are also very idealistic.

Role Models: Guinevere, Princess Fiona (of Shrek)

You are most likely to: Get kidnapped by a stray

What Kind of Princess are You? - Beautiful Artwork (Original Music is BACK!!!)
brought to you by Quizilla

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Anti-War Creeps

Anti-war creeps have hacked Grey Eagles' blog. She's a soldier who is currently deployed to Iraq. These cowards whose very right to free speech is protected by the sacrifice of this woman have now completely prevented her from posting tributes to fallen soldiers. Fallen soldiers who died for their country and to free the citizens of another country who would gladly settle for a mere fraction of the freedoms we enjoy here. Low-lifes such as these should be dropped in the midst of their so-called "freedom fighters". Let them find out how the terrorists respond to their brand of spew. Maybe, somewhere between discovering what torture really is and getting their heads hacked off, they might wake up to the truth. But then again, that is asking a lot of dysfunctional drooling moonbats.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

I heart guns & knives

My friend Pookie was doodling in one of his classes and produced this sketch of me. The shirt says "I *heart* *guns* & knives", which I do. Heh heh.

The reason the fork is there, in the ground between the swords, is because I have this thing about not being touched. Especially without warning. One night at work, Pookie & Bridget were discussing how I should change my hair. I was leaning on the kitchen counter, eating, and Pookie suddenly leaned toward me and touched my hair. Without even realizing it, I rather quickly rotated the fork in my hand into a, um... stabbing position, I guess you might call it. Don't think I'm gonna live that one down anytime soon.

The swirly stuff on the leg of the pants is thanks to a former client at work. She wanted to do something, I can't even remember what, that she wasn't supposed to be doing. Anyway, she cussed at me and told me my embroidered jeans were stupid. I kinda laughed at her and made her even more mad. Ah well. Those jeans have been my "stupid pants" ever since. Posted by Picasa
Here's one way to wake your kid up to the consequences of their actions.

Tasha Henderson got tired of her 14-year-old daughter's poor grades, her chronic
lateness to class and her talking back to her teachers, so she decided to teach
the girl a lesson.
She made Coretha stand at a busy Oklahoma City
intersection Nov. 4 with a cardboard sign that read: "I don't do my homework and
I act up in school, so my parents are preparing me for my future. Will work for

The girl's grades and behaviour have both improved and yet the mom got turned into the Dept. of Human Services. Sure, she 'suffered' a wee bit of humiliation, but she'll be thankful in few years when a little thing called 'real life' hits. If only more parents would do this. Then, people in my line of work would have fewer psycho teenagers to tame after their parents are done screwing them up.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Kickin' Some Liberal Butt

Ma Deuce Gunner, back from Iraq, has something to say to the anti-war crowd. There is also a transcript of an interview with several Iraqi brothers who were interpreters for MDG's company.

And, link courtesy of Harvey, comes a lovely little article, complete with sources, about who is really lying about Iraq.

Friday, November 11, 2005


I had a dream last night. It was the strangest one I can ever recall, including the one about the demon-possessed burritos. I had fallen back asleep after my alarm went off and I eventually became aware that I was dreaming, but I could not control what happened in it like I sometimes can.

My older brother was in a motorized wheelchair, driving with the flow of traffic on Hwy 75 north of Topeka. It then switched to Mom, Addy - my cousin's 5 year old, and me in a cruise ship. We were there to make sure that wheelchairs had access to everything. I had to ride the wheelchair down a motorized lift-thingy that carried the chair down a short, wide stairway. The carpet was a deep red with gold and the walls were a rich cream. It was in this section - in the stairway - that I think I realized I was dreaming. Mom said something to the effect that we were also there to stop someone from killing a 13 year old girl - a client from my work. The dream changed to a Grecian statue, there was no background, everything was just white. A pearl handled dagger sticking in the crown of the statue's head. A hand - I had the impression that it was Mom's - pulled the dagger out and water began draining from the room or whatever the statue was in. A flow of blood began gushing down and Mom said we have until 11:30. I knew this meant we had to find the girl before 11:30pm or he would kill her. The dream changed again. A new statue, this one more cream-colored than the first and looking very battered. It looked as if there was dried blood on it and there was a smaller head hanging from the larger statue's hair. The statue began to move and I heard Mom, sounding rather distraught, saying "Stop, part of your head is blown off". The statue kept moving and I seemed to be circling it. I realized the statue was me and that's when the dream ended.

The few colors I remembered were very vivid - the blood was a very bold red. I did wonder why in the world Mom & I, not to mention a 5 year old girl, were hunting a killer. I tried to find a website that explained meanings of dreams, just out of curiosity, but everything I found was just plain weird &/or not at all applicable to my life. I know anything I'm going to find would just be a loopy froo-froo from some oddball mystic, but I thought it might be good for a few chuckles.

Anyway, now that I've freaked y'all out with a glimpse into my twisted little psyche, have a nice day. ;D

Thunder Run

Stumbled across this old post at The Mudville Gazette, link courtesy of Cox & Forkum. It is about the MSM's accusation that the US military targets journalists. There is an excerpt of "Thunder Run" by David Zucchino, LA Times correspondent. It is a little lengthy but it is definately worth the time.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

World Without Zionism Conference

Want to know the Arabs' plans for the future? Look right here -


That is why we need to kick some serious butt over there, send those 'martyrs' on to their reward - also known as Hell - and give Israel all the support we can. Screw the Palestinians.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Live Life, Whatever The Cost

George Gray
by Edgar Lee Masters

I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me—
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me, and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire—
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

I Like My Opinions

Mom called me to say that she was worried about my posts being too opinionated.

I replied with "Yes, I do have opinions, I rather like them and I plan on keeping them for quite some time".

She's afraid that "guys won't like that".

Funny little Mothership.

My List

Thought I'd share my list of things that I would like to do someday before I die.

Not that I'm planning to, y'know...

1. Marry a Godly man
2. Raise Godly children
3. Learn to paint
4. Write a book
5. Open a tea room
6. Go to Scotland, England, Israel, France & Italy
7. Learn Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Arabic, French, Italian & Gaelic
8. Learn to drive a motorcycle
9. Rehab a ’71 Hemi ‘Cuda and drag race
10. Trace genealogy as far back as possible
11. Take gourmet cooking classes
12. Learn to dance
13. Play ‘Hot Canary’ & ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia’ on violin
14. Take voice lessons
15. Learn to play piano
16. Get History / Philosophy / Education degrees
17. Renovate a Victorian house
18. Learn to quilt
19. Learn Fencing / Swordplay / Archery
20. Take Photography classes
21. Learn to play chess
22. Go to Sniper school / Shoot an AK-47