Immediate members of my own Family fit into these groups.
Still.
Una Voz
Immediate members of my own Family fit into these groups.
Still.
Una Voz
So.
God.
How’s everything little thing with you?
Me?
Well… in case you haven’t noticed I haven’t been talking to you much lately.
That’s because I’ve been really busy enjoying the Train Wreck that is the world of American Politics
We’re getting close to a ” Lord Of The Flies “ type situation down here so I am totally into the entire experience. I’m just waiting for the tribes to attack each other.
I’m just wondering if in the end people like me will be relevant anymore.
According to the hate mail I’ve gotten recently the answer is
‘no’.
Some of my ‘enlightened sisters’ are really really mad because I’ve joined another tribe and they’re getting ready to cut my head off and stick it on a pole and run it up and down the streets of Ohio.
Anyway….
When I’m not all wrapped up in this new Reality Show
Called
Hills And Barry
( ahem )
I’m amusing myself with dumb stuff on the Internet like:
Games
My favorite are the Holiday Hangman Series.
They’re up to
I can’t wait for Easter.
I’m expecting Great Things from these guys.
After that I look for cool pictures to send to my friends and family.
Of course they never acknowledge getting them so I’m not sure if they’re appreciated. I figure I’ll just keep sending them until they start screaming stop like little babies :
photo
Shamelessly Hijacked from b3ta
Oh and I listen to cool music like this:
And sometimes I find these stories where what’s between the lines
is much more interesting than what’s actually on them.
The ultimate burn you gesture is in this story.
PS.
Don’t ask me about the TV show mentioned in the story- it’s about Vampires.
I hate Vampire stories- I never watch them on TV and I never read them.
They Suck.
Ha ha ha.
Well God Oh Mighty.
While I can still say it
ahhmennnn.
ps
Just Wondering God:
if things change will I have to say
OHWIMEN????
This is for my friend Nurse Myra at The Gimcrack Hospital…she’s going to love this.
amm
pt 1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCKaVZ_bGPk
pt2
Picture this:
You buy a car or an electrical appliance and it comes with this warning label:
This product is perfectly safe- HOWEVER there is an outside chance it could- for no reason burst into flames and kill you. Buy it anyway though because the chances are very small it will happen TO YOU.
So now we must ask for the health and safety of anyone who eats beef: Have the actions of some people who like to torture animals on their way to the slaughter house and this mega industry endangered at least ONE of us?
Consider it:
They’ve slapped a warning label on every piece of beef processed at their plant and they tell YOU not to worry because it probably won’t effect YOU.
Oh sure, I’m so glad to know that – now I’m ready to go out and eat a big juicy steak or burger because:
what they did could have endangered my friends or family.
BUT NOT ME!
You jerks.
The video of how they treated those animals have put me off beef for the rest of my life- and this comment alone sealed the deal:
Entire story HERE
How funny.
This is funny too-it will be a cold day in Hell before I ever buy beef again and serve it to my friends and family.
Ha Ha ha.
You can be haunted by things like memories.
Those types of hauntings are more terrifying then any monster movie, book or play or true life story to ever be shared around a campfire.
Yesterday I saw this woman standing by her car at the side of the road.
The car was beat up and she was wearing a sweat outfit and her hair was in a pony tail and as my bus sped by I noticed that not one single car slowed down.
She was waving her arms and I saw the look on her face- she wasn’t expecting anyone too.
I wondered if she had been taller or skinnier or if her hair wasn’t brown and had she dressed better how many cars would have at least tried to not hit her as they drove by.
But I know the answer to that one.
Back in the 80’s both me and my friend drove the same kind of car which meant that they had the same sort of problems
My friend was going around this corner when her fuel pump died and she stalled right there on the turn next to a gas station.
My friend who was tall, and skinny AND a model ( and boy you could tell from a hundred feet away she was one of the most beautiful women in the world ) and as gets out of her car about a dozen ( well, okay three ) guys practically kill themselves running across the lot to help her.
Not only do they fix the fuel pump they fix her radio, vacuum her car and fix the lock on the trunk.
So about a month later I’m taking the same turn and something shorts out in my electrical system just as I’m passing the same gas station.
I get out and push the car the rest of the way into the gas station when this guy walks up to me and says, ” If you don’t get this thing out of here in the next five minutes I’m calling a tow truck.”
I try to tell him I’m going to call my boyfriend who has a truck and can tow me and he says, ” get this thing out of here NOW or we’re gonna start charging you a storage fee and that’s 100.00″
So I ask if someone can help me push it next door at least because the traffic was bad and I couldn’t see myself pushing this thing fast enough when he says, ” listen fat ass, get this thing out of here NOW.”
Then he calls over his shoulder as he walks away ” move it you ugly bitch or start writing a check.”
Nope.
Never got over that one.
It haunts me- still.
1. When you are sad — I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.
2. When you are blue — I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile — I will know you are plotting something that I must be involved in.
4. When you are scared — I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5. When you are worried — I will tell you horrible stories about how much Worse it could be until you quit whining.
6. When you are confused — I will use little words.
7. When you are sick — Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don’t want whatever you have.
8. When you fall — I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.
9. This is my oath…. I pledge it to the end. ‘Why?’ you may ask? ‘because you are my friend’.
The Girl With The Man’s Name
and her son
Who Could Be Our Next President
from the Seattle Times, Seattle Washington:

Stanley Dunham, in a Mercer Island High annual.
Memories of Obama’s mother
By Nicole Brodeur
Seattle Times staff columnist
This is going to sound strange, Maxine Box says, but 50 years later, she can’t forget it:
Barack Obama’s mother used to crack her knuckles.”Constantly,” Box told me as we sat in her Bellevue home on the eve of Super Tuesday, talking about Stanley Dunham, the girl with the man’s name and the son who could be president of the United States.
Box, 65, was Dunham’s best friend at Mercer Island High School, where they were members of the Class of 1960.
“Obama Mama,” is how they refer to her in the school’s front office when reporters come around. The Mercer Island Reporter. The Chicago Tribune. Staffers got used to pulling out the 1960 yearbook, until it was recently misplaced.
Same with Box’s copy of the yearbook; it’s in her house somewhere.
But it doesn’t matter — the memories are still clear as day.
And Box wants to keep them that way, to somehow honor the friend who died of ovarian cancer in 1995, before she could see what her son would accomplish; that he would become one of the final two Democratic candidates in the race for president.
Politics may divide us, but a mother’s pride, well, that’s a feeling that easily crosses party lines.
“She’d be overwhelmed that he’s done what he’s done,” Box said of her friend. “To think that your child has grown up to be this fine man that so many people love. … “
Box called her friend “Stannie,” a nickname for Stanley. She was named for her father, who wanted a boy — and the girl knew it. As a result, their relationship was strained.
“He was hard on her, in that he picked on her,” Box said of Stanley Dunham, a furniture salesman in downtown Seattle.
“He had a sarcastic humor,” Box said, “and she could give it back.”
Dunham’s mother, Madelyn, a bank employee, was “very quiet and serious” and often protected her daughter from her husband’s sarcasm, Box said. (She is still alive, but the Obama campaign has not made her available for interviews).
Dunham and Box were part of a close group of girls who attended football games and sock hops but didn’t really date. They listened to The Limeliters, The Kingston Trio, The Brothers Four. Their parents played cards together.
Dunham and Box walked home together after school, usually stopping at Box’s house for mint-chocolate cake before Dunham went on to the Shorewood apartments, where she lived with her parents.
“I don’t remember prolonged intellectual discussions,” Box said. “But we were all questioners. It was the feeling of the whole school. We were on the debate team, we knew about current events.”
And they felt “destined” to attend college.
Box wanted to work with children, and got a teaching degree at the University of Washington.
Stannie “was such a good student, very intellectual and above all of us. Not just thinking about boys and clothes.”
When her father took a job selling furniture in Hawaii, Dunham moved with them and enrolled in the University of Hawaii.
Not long after, Dunham wrote Box that she had met a Kenyan grad student named Barack Obama. They married and had a son.
For all the tension Dunham had with her father, Box said, her parents stood by her when her marriage fell apart a few years later.
Dunham eventually remarried an Indonesian man and moved to Jakarta. At one point, she sent her son, Barack, back to Hawaii to live with her parents for a year.
Later, Dunham worked with international relief agencies, focused on women’s development.
Box last saw her friend in 1961, when she visited Seattle on her way from Honolulu to Massachusetts, where her then-husband was attending Harvard.
“She seemed very happy and very proud,” she said. “She had this beautiful, healthy baby. I can see them right now.”
If only Box could see them together again; her friend with her son, the U.S. senator. The husband and father. The presidential candidate.
Obama’s book “The Audacity of Hope” is dedicated “To my Mother, whose loving spirit sustains me still.”
Box has vowed to support Obama.
“And not just because of knowing his mother. I would have the same feelings. But this makes it extra special.”
Nicole Brodeur’s column appears Tuesday and Friday. Reach her at 206-464-2334 or nbrodeur@seattletimes.com.
Hey, bring that yearbook back!

Dear Senator Obama,
This letter represents a first for me–a public endorsement of a
Presidential candidate.
I feel driven to let you know why I am writing it.
One reason is it may help gather other supporters; another is that this is
one of those singular moments that nations ignore at their peril. I will
not rehearse the multiple crises facing us, but of one thing I am certain:
this opportunity for a national evolution (even revolution) will not come
again soon, and I am convinced you are the person to capture it.
May I describe to you my thoughts? I have admired Senator Clinton for
years. Her knowledge always seemed to me exhaustive; her negotiation of politics expert
.
However I am more compelled by the quality of mind (as far as I can measure it) of a candidate.
I cared little for her gender as a source of my admiration, and the little I did care was based on the fact that no liberal woman has ever ruled in America . Only conservative or “new-centrist” ones are allowed into that realm. Nor do I care very much for your race[s]. I would not support you if that was all you had to offer or because it might make me “proud.”
In thinking carefully about the strengths of the candidates, I stunned
myself when I came to the following conclusion: that in addition to keen
intelligencee, integrity and a rare authenticity, you exhibit something that
has nothing to do with age, experience, race or gender and something I don’t see in other candidates.
That something is a creative imagination which coupled with brilliance equals wisdom.
It is too bad if we associate it onlywith gray hair and old age. Or if we call searing vision naivete. Or if webelieve cunning is insight. Or if we settle for finessing cures tailored for each ravaged tree in the forest while ignoring the poisonous landscape that feeds and surrounds it. Wisdom is a gift; you can’t train for it, inherit it, learn it in a class, or earn it in the workplace–that access can foster the acquisition of knowledge, but not wisdom.
When, I wondered, was the last time this country was guided by such a
leader? Someone whose moral center was un-embargoed? Someone with courage instead of mere ambition? Someone who truly thinks of his country’scitizens as “we,” not “they”? Someone who understands what it will take tohelp America realize the virtues it fancies about itself, what it
desperately needs to become in the world?
Our future is ripe, outrageously rich in its possibilities. Yet unleashing
the glory of that future will require a difficult labor, and some may be so
frightened of its birth they will refuse to abandon their nostalgia for the
womb.
There have been a few prescient leaders in our past, but you are the man for
this time.
Good luck to you and to us.
–Toni Morrison”
All About Eve is one of my favorite movies.
I like it, because no matter how you dress it up- with the censored version that made it to the screen or the original version where Eve not only tastes but indulges in the bitter fruit of her wicked ways-
all of the characters remained patronizing and vapid.
Not to mention self indulgent.
So I really enjoyed seeing something like Eve show up and set the house on fire.
It’s also worth noting that the women in this movie- from Airy Fairy Karen to Self Adoring Margo to our Wonderfully Wicked Eve
kicked some serious backside.
In High Heels no less.
amm

Ruthless people: Anne Baxter plays Eve Harrington in the 1950 classic All About Eve; Celeste Holm (left) is Karen Richards, a friend she uses on her way to the top. Hulton Archive/Getty Images