It Could Be That the Purpose of Your Life Is to Serve as a Warning to Others

How wonderful to be back in the blogosphere!  I’ve been gone too long (says no one who actually reads my blog!) and while I have considered writing lately, I’ve been sick so haven’t had the energy.  In reality, I’ve felt physically unwell AND sorry for myself, so this combined with trips to the hospital, doctor visits and a disrupted sleep cycle, well, whatever.  I finally reached out to my family and friends on Facebook asking for prayers, and let me remind you that GOD is AWESOME because He has heard and He has answered.

While I can’t profess to know the mind of GOD, He, like most of you, got sick of my whining and decided to show me that IT CAN ALWAYS BE WORSE.  Kind of like when your momma and daddy tell you “Keep that up, I’mma give you something to cry about”.  Today, at least, I am jolted out of my self pity and admit that there is someone waaaay worse off than me.

HLN Morning Express is my morning go-to news show.  This morning, they shared the story of Alabama teenager Darby Risner who, on finding the head of a Barney the Dinosaur costume, decided to put it on and prank her friends.  Darby, who could be described as ‘not much bigger than a minute’, put the costume Barney head on, and it promptly slid down over her head and shoulders, pinning her arms at the elbows, where it got stuck, trapping the hapless teen like some sort of goofy T rex with a giant head and useless, stumpy arms.  (So no push ups, playing poker, or picking up the check!)

Once her friends and all the parents realized that Darby was caught up in the raptor (I couldn’t resist!), they posted pictures on facebook and instagram, looking for help, I’m sure.  Then they called the fire department for help.  Said Darby’s momma, “We asked them not to turn on the sye-reens, but they said it’s protocol, so we had to throw her in the truck and drive there since that big-ass head wouldn’t fit in the Buick.”  Ok, That’s a lie, I don’t know if her momma that, and I’m sure the fire department just WANTED to use the sye-reens.  I mean, who wouldn’t?

Once at the fire department, fire fighters tried to control their laughter while also trying to remove the head.  According to New York Magazine (Oh Darby, you are FAMOUS!!!), “This also didn’t work, but the fireman would later describe her as ‘a greased pig.’ Which is what every teenage girl hopes to hear.”  Ok, not for nothing, but this DID happen in the South, so we know a lot about greased pigs.  Maybe that would be an insult in New York, but it’s not the worst thing you could call a Southerner.  Try calling us ‘rude’ or ‘inhospitable’.  That hurts!  Whatever, but I think this could really only happen in the South.  I doubt anyone at New York Magazine would get ‘a stoopid Bawnee mask’ stuck on their head, but below the Mason Dixon line, we wrestle pigs, get stuck in dinosaur heads, and all sorts of other stuff.  I know that today, I speak for my fellow Southerners in Florida when I say, ‘thank you, Alabama!”

Having been freed from what New York Magazine called “her Cretaceous Period prison”,
(Really, New York?  WTH?), Darby posed for pictures with friends and firefighters, she went on to say that she has also gotten stuck in a bus lavatory and a baby swing, and she hopes this hasn’t hurt her chances to become her school’s sports mascot.  Talk about ignoring the signs, but hey, think positive.  I know this incident will help Darby get ahead!

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This Diet Could Only Have Come From the Stoned Age!

Today I read about a ‘new’ diet that I have to add to the list of stupid shit that we do in the name of skinniness.  It’s called The Paleo Diet.  Yes, Paleo as in cavemen and the Stone Age.  According to registered dietitian Chrissy Carroll, the basic precept of this plan is “based on the theory that our core genetic makeup hasn’t changed since the paleolithic era, and in that era people didn’t experience as much chronic disease.  And so comes the conclusion that the diet cavemen ate is best for preventing chronic disease…”


This is just wrong on SO many levels.  Our knowledge of cave dwellers, also known as Troglodytes, is based on theory and assumption.  In large part, the term refers to Neanderthal, and extinct (yep, dead and gone) species of man who lived 350,000 to 600,000 years ago.  Based on this, I have to rely on conjecture here.  Neanderthal lived in a world wherein he was required to hunt and kill his food.  There was no refrigeration so they probably had to cook and eat their catch pretty quickly, but that’s okay since there was also no birth control so they probably had many mouths to feed.  I also assume that herds of mammoths or other paleolithic animals didn’t come lumbering by on a set schedule, so there probably wasn’t much surplus food.  (Kind of like having teenagers at home.)  Finally, there was a real risk of dinner killing you first, either by trampling you to death or by slowly poisoning you.  (Kind of like when I cook.)


Face it, cavemen would have eaten more if food had been more readily available and was less dangerous to obtain.  The life expectancy of Neanderthal and his ilk was about 20 years.  And while I truly believe that the fast food and junk that we eat is more dangerous than a herd of hemorrhoidal Mastodons, I’m also convinced that the cavemen would not have willingly followed the Troglo-diet if given a choice.  (“Ooga booga….this mammoth would be divine with some rice pilaf and a nice Merlot!”)  And being that I have NO desire to hunt and kill my own food, nor do I ever have a craving for Paleolithic Buffalo Burgers, my core genetic makeup has indeed changed.  I’m assuming, again, that yours probably has, too.


I have to accept that in order to lose weight, I need to control portion size, get some exercise, and not criticize…myself or others.  I’m good with that.  We should enjoy all of the food groups and use food as fuel.  And when tempted by sweets and junk food, it’s okay to cave in every once in awhile! 

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The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through the E.R.

My sense of humor is admittedly peculiar, but certain topics are off-limits as laughs go.  I don’t consider heart attacks to be at all funny, and feel truly bad for anyone who has suffered a heart attack or has lost a loved one to a heart ailment.  It’s sad that many people try to eat a balanced diet and exercise regularly but still suffer from heart disease.  It’s really sad that more of us don’t take better care of ourselves.  It’s really tragic when we go looking for trouble.

There’s a restaurant in Las Vegas called ‘The Heart Attack Grill.’  There used to be a Texas location that was closed for non-payment of rent, and I am guessing that the money went for insurance premiums and larger clothes.  At any rate, you can visit The Heart Attack Grill and order a Single, Double, Triple, or Quadruple Bypass Burger with an order of Flatliner Fries.  I’m not sure what they call it if you order a combo meal.  I call it Date With a Defibrillator.  What would one expect?  The point is that if you go to a place like the very aptly named Heart Attack Grill, you are looking for trouble and you’re going to find it.

Recently, a man went to the HAG for a ‘Triple Bypass Burger’, which consists of three half-pound beef patties, three slices of cheese, and 15 pieces of bacon.  Just this is around 6,000 calories!  Once you add Flatliner Fries and a Butterfat Shake and you’ve pretty much consumed all of your allowed Weight Watchers points for the year.  The waitresses dress like nurses and the owner calls himself Doctor.  (And people called Jack Kervorkian a criminal?!)

So our intrepid diner decided to stroll into the Heart Attack Grill for a bovine sized burger and a few pounds of lard fries.  Specifically, he ordered the triple bypass burger, which stands about a foot tall and weighs close to two pounds.  After finishing his lunch (enough to feed all of Rhode Island), one of the nurse waitresses told the ‘Doctor’ that the patron was ‘having the shakes and sweating’.  Of course the owner thought she meant he was having a butterfat milkshake, and that he was sweating from the incredible physical exertion it took to lift all of this calorie-laden crap to his mouth.  But no, alas.  The lunch customer was having a heart attack.  Health conscious onlookers and the morbidly curious thought it was part of the coronary contrivance that this restaurant is known to use in their macabre marketing, but it was the real deal.  As bystanders took pictures and video, the owner, ‘Doctor Jon’ said,  “Even with our own morbid sense of humor, we would never pull a stunt like that.”

His cardiovascular concern is really touching.  Coming from a man who makes his living on the slogan, ‘A Taste Worth Dying For’, his words ring as hollow as a balloon angioplasty on a Hasbro Baby Alive.  And it begs the question.  What, exactly, do the customers of this restaurant expect?  Let’s face it.  You know what to expect at International House of Pancakes, KFC, and the like.   I don’t go to The Waffle House and order Pasta Primavera.  I don’t go to Taco Bell for a burger and fries.  (Actually, I don’t go there at all.  The ground beef tastes weird.  It’s abstract meat, like bologna.)

So there is good news and bad news.  The good news is that the patron/patient has survived and is recovering.  The bad news is that this diner of death is still fully operational (ooh, scary thought!) and they’re still dishing up their killer cuisine.  And hopefully, there’s a lesson in here for all of us.  The occasional fast food is okay…..take heed if you should suddenly feel a Big Mac Attack.  And think a good thought for the sad, misguided souls who make their way into deadly diners like this one.  Bless their hearts!



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What the World Needs is a Pill to Control Stupidity

If there exists, as my parents said, a special angel for drunks and dingbats, that angel is unbelievably busy this week.  I realize that everyone has opened mouth, inserted foot.  We’ve all said and done stupid things that we would take back in an instant if we could, making amends to those wounded by our misguided ignorance.  I admit that I’ve done it, too.  There have been times in my village when I have realized that yes, I’m the idiot.  But the realization and regret that come with this usually carry with them a valuable lesson, and a desire to be less fatuous the next time.

The pity is that many among us don’t possess a sense of concern about how their cruelty and derisive value judgments not only hurt others but serve to damage the speakers themselves.  And in the case of Rush Limbaugh, I would scarcely have thought it possible to see him in a worse light, but it has happened.  To say that I am shocked, dismayed, and disgusted, well, these words hardly do justice to how I feel about this cretinous, pompous ass.

Recently, a young law student testified before the House Democratic Steering and Policy committee.  She is a scholarship student at Georgetown University Law School, and her testimony described how the high cost of contraceptive care, because of lack of coverage through insurance, impacts many women.  In her statement, she spoke not only of contraceptives as birth control, but as needed treatment for women with serious gynecological health issues.  These issues include the treatment of polycystic ovarian syndrome, endometriosis, and amenorrhea. 

After providing her testimony to the all male panel, a literal firestorm was ignited when her remarks earned her the ire and disdain of Rush Limbaugh.  Rush decided to weigh in on his radio show by stating, “What does it say about the college co-ed…who goes before a congressional committee and essentially says that she must be paid to have sex — what does that make her? It makes her a slut, right? It makes her a prostitute.”


Then Rush the swine followed up with this pearl of wisdom.  “If we are going to pay for your contraceptives and thus pay for you to have sex, we want something. We want you to post the videos online so we can all watch.”

First, no, I don’t want to watch.  I find it worrisome and perverse that Rush, the misogynistic miscreant, would want to watch.  Second, this clueless, vitriol-spewing, moral mutant has no business attacking this young woman, or any woman.  He has a record of several failed marriages behind him, and I am guessing that his exes not only used birth control during their relationships with him, but considered douching with Drano once they came to their senses and the divorces were final.  This is the same wanna-be pundit condemned drugs and anyone using drugs, only to admit that he was hooked on pain killers and later, was arrested for doctor shopping.  Talk about a glass house for the stoned. 

This Georgetown student doesn’t owe anyone an explanation of her personal life or her actions behind closed doors.  The fact is that over two-thirds of the insurance carriers in the United States cover abortions, some of those include late-term abortions at 20 weeks or later.  Why should prevention be looked upon as such an abomination?  When my husband and I conceived our second child, we were delighted to be adding a loved and wanted baby to our family.  At 4 months, we lost our baby.  Because of the danger to me, my doctor explained to my husband that there was no chance that our baby would survive, but without emergency surgery, I would likely die.  After my surgery, my husband and I agreed with our doctor that my body needed a break, and that we should take preventive measures to ensure that I was healthy enough to attempt another pregnancy.  I guess in the eyes of Rush, that makes me a slut and a whore, since my health insurance covered my surgery and contraceptive care.  What a bunch of rubbish. 

I am sorry that this young woman, a student and private citizen, has been thrown into a political maelstrom, and has been simultaneously insulted and lionized.  I hope she knows that there are people who embrace her and support her.  As for Rush, he is the personification for the need to keep contraception legal.  And as far as my personal experiences and support for this issue make me a slut?  Well, Rush, there are millions of men in this world.  You’ll be the LAST to know!

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I’m as Good as my Word, and That’s Bad!

When I was younger, my parents taught me about the importance of words.  I was taught to write thank you notes.  I learned that cursing will get your mouth washed out with soap (I’m partial to Dove).  Now that I’m older and working in a call center, I’m reminded to choose my words carefully.  Finally, I’m told to know my audience.  This last point makes me giggle.  In this day and age, with all of the technology I could ever need, I not only know my audience, I can almost replicate their DNA.

Of course I would never try to use technology for criminal purposes or cyber-stalking.  I’m actually very nice, and I’m also an idiot when it comes to applied science, computers, smart phones and the like.  I recently traded my obsolete flip phone for a Blackberry, which is described by PC Magazine as ‘still usable’ and channeled my inner techie and figured out how to upload pictures to Facebook.  I’m pretty proud of that, because a picture is worth a thousand words.  Ironically, that’s now my problem.

While I was surfing the web the way Gidget and Moondoggie surfed the waves at Malibu, I happened on an article about The Department of Homeland Security and Social Networking.  The incongruence of this was enough to make me read the article, and I almost fell out of my chair.  Homeland Security has compiled and published a list of ‘Government Key Words’ for monitoring social media.  In other words, ahem, Homeland Security will be monitoring sites Facebook, Twitter, and the five people who still use Myspace for words that they deem critical and potentially threatening to national security.  As word lists go, this one is strange at best.  To illustrate the absurdity of this, and share with you some of the offensive words that could earn you a spot on the terror watch list, I have written a brief anecdote, and the danger words are capitalized.

“I must have eaten some bad PORK, because I thought I had FOOD POISONING, or maybe a stomach FLU.  I developed a terrible ATTACK of GAS, so EXPLOSIVE in nature that I was afraid I would make my family SICK.  I felt ready to BURST, and knew that prolonged EXPOSURE could be TOXIC and HAZARDOUS to my family.  Rather than have them call the POLICE for HELP, I decided to take the INITIATIVE to drive to TARGET for some over the counter DRUGS, thinking MITIGATION and PREVENTION would AID in my RECOVERY.  I thought it a SMART RESPONSE to my SYMPTOMS.  Fortunately, I didn’t COLLAPSE, and with some ICE and ALCOHOL, I found some RELIEF, and the SHOOTING pains stopped.  I’m just glad I didn’t have to drive in SNOW.”

So I hope this WARNING has ENRICHED your lives in some way.  Going forward, we need to WATCH what we write on our social network sites, for we could easily be deemed a THREAT to GOVERNMENT AGENTS and AGENCIES (pick one.)  And while I am keeping my Facebook page, I am going to be very careful what I write.  And for HEALTH reasons, I am giving up EXERCISE.  When I STRAIN to do sit ups and wear work out clothes, it’s just a RIOT!!!!

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I’m a Legend In My Own Mind!

I’m a Who’s Who!  Well, who knew?  

I certainly didn’t, but how delightful to be famous.  Well, that’s what I was told.  I’ve been nominated for inclusion into a ‘Who’s Who’ along with other noteworthy business dignitaries and community celebrities.  I received several emails telling me to drop everything and accept this incredible honor immediately, so I did just that.  I never knew that I was very important, so this seemed like a grand slam.  

Actually, a grand scam. 

I devoured the email, eagerly searching for the name of my champion.  I was going to send flowers, at least.  No need, since I wasn’t really nominated.  My “…information was obtained by our research committee after careful consideration of candidates using industry publications, trade show attendance lists, and corporate profiles on [social networking] sites….” 

Is that so? 

Still, my ego was still bloated enough to keep reading, until I found the part about the basic and enhanced lists.  The basic list was just that.  It was free and your name was included on a list in their publication.  To be on the enhanced list, which included your name, professional affiliations, and all the other qualities that made you a bigwig, you simply needed to complete the application and send $800.00 for a Platinum Membership.  In this economy, I’d have to commit robbery to get $800.00, and after that, why I’d be on several lists and quite possibly have my picture up in post offices across the nation!  And the taxpayers would pay the fees! 

At that point, my ego deflated faster than the Zimbabwean dollar on the foreign exchange reserve.  (Really, ten million ZWD will net you around four bucks in the US!!)  There was nothing particularly important about me.  I was still unique and special, just like everyone else.  I was also highly irritated.  These ‘whooligans’ really wanted $800.00 to put my name on a “yearly registry of global movers and shakers.”  That almost created enough moving and shaking to start an earthquake.  Seriously, Elvis Presley was ‘All Shook Up’ and Jerry Lee Lewis had a ‘Whole Lotta Shakin’ going on, and THEY got paid to be on lists, not the other way around.  

So remember that it’s nice to be important, but it’s more important to be nice.  And the work you do is worthwhile and meaningful, but don’t waste your hard earned money on a bunch of scammers who are playing on your sense of pride.  It’s great to be proud, but we’re all part of the crowd.  I’m going to save my money, listen to some Elvis, and print myself a certificate of achievement.  And if the folks at Who’s Who contact me ever again, I’ll offer ten million dollars.  Zimbabwean dollars, naturally.  

And that’s what’s what.



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Remembrance Day 11/11/11

To every soldier standing tall,
on distant lands, where heroes fall
so far removed, the honored brave
lie exiled in a foreign grave,
who heard a higher call.

A spirit lost in serving all
is now a name writ on a wall
for some, a need to serve and save
in blood their names are signed.

Remains placed in a hallowed hall
each death still casts a bitter gall.
No vengeance do the fallen crave
for sacrifice they gladly gave;
but never solace from the pall
for those they left behind.

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