John Stewart for president.

I saw that on a bumper sticker yesterday. My reaction:
He can come in my oval office any day!

Goddess, it was a beautiful sunset!

Wow. Last night.
I'd like to thank you Goddesses, Rumblejetts, and Tanya of the Jazzhaus for last night. I was pretty nervous the entire time. I don't relish in spotlights, but that was a learning experience for a lot of us. Roya, your dancing is awesome! Jingly ass and all!

I was fairly shocked about the turnout, but I guess that happens when there's a lot of people who've been affected by this disease. However....no more news crews! That made me more jittery. What made me giggle was that there was at least one Bombshell girl there even though she looked a little uncomfortable. I will never understand the dymanics between the GDs and Queens in respect to BS girls. You know what I mean. I'm a lazy typer not punster. not right now.

I loved the boobie cake, boobie jello mold, and the boob mold that were there. The location was perfect....naked boobies, bootys, and pregger bellies plastered all over the walls! How fun is that?

I'l leave you with just a few words:
breast boob booby tit teat ta tata fun flaps skislopes bananas coconuts melons peaches udders milk jugs earmuffs etc etc etc....Add what you will

Elvis went to my wedding. He's actually a relative of mine. He's lived in Nebraska for almost all of his life. You didn't know that, did you? I can't believe I'm blogging about him, but he died last night not thirty years ago.

Ok. That's obviously not true, but my mother's cousin DID look like Elvis... an old greasy one. He did die last night. He was fat and dyed his hair black right up until then. I don't usually think too much about my mom's side of the family, but he was an exception. At my wedding I was proud of him and the rest of the fam because they contrasted so highly from that of PA's.

My romantic fairytale story wedding looked like this:
The prodigal son of a wealthy man sowed his wild oats into a lowly peasant's daughter. Her family then tries to climb the social ladder by marrying her off to the wealthy man's son. Oh the shame on the Noble family! Complete it with her friends bringing the kegs of beer and bags of pot, the bride laughing about it being a shotgun wedding, and the awesome brokendown camper with Nebraska plates that chugged onto the Estate Lands that unloaded what seemed to be an unsafe amount of people from its bowels. Elvis was in that throng of travelers from Nebraska. You'd half expect to hear "Shake, Rattle, and Roll" being played as it rolled in. My dad's side would be more"Dueling Banjos".

Ahhhh. The feathers of those little old rich biddies were certainly unruffled that day! As to be expected the sides never got on, but the Noble family did notice the good charateristics and qualities of the peasant's daughter. She became a staple in the family even after the marriage ended.

Now, back to Bernard AKA Elvis...I will remember him fondly for his kindnesses to me and for shaking up those complacent people. I will cherish and respect his determination to abide by a certain aesthetic right upto his death. Cheers, Bernard! You never let that flame die out!

Last weekend I went with some friends to a BBQ. While BBQ's usually raise my spirits, fill my belly, and intoxicate my soul, I came away with a rather sober feeling. I had begun to think about our confidence in our immortality and bright shiny futures juxtaposed to the paths our lives take.

The night started out like any other poorly written roadtrip movie where three friends from the past set out on an adventure. Whoo. We didn't even leave the school district , but we can forgive the three the short distance they went, right? All three were happy and excited to reminisce and laugh about the past and present. We even thought of crazy one-liners and theme songs for our roadtrip (can you tell we're geeks?). We ended the joke with we're on our way to Vegas in the small Toyota with my drainage bag flying out the window and a trail of dust rising in our path.

The party was typical...ribs, corn, beans, beer, whiskey, rum, tequila...It was fun. But the night ended abruptly when the Reason for the Story decided to steal another person's painpills. The girl just had dry sockets. Painfull. I'd be mad too. So after watching the Reason drift in and out of consciousness and wobble by himself at the other end of the lawn we decided to take Reason home before the girl in pain and the owner of the house deballed him. I don't want to see that. I'm getting squeamish in my old age.

We shoved our bloated bodies back into the small truck built only for english teacher, leftist bachelors, and headed off for the Reason's home. English teacher decided to confront him with me sitting in the middle. I've had dealings with defensive addicts before and was not too interested in uncontrolled outbursts anywhere near me. Amazingly it stayed fairly calm even if it was emotional. I kept a hand on both their legs in a small attempt to remind them that I was in the middle of all of this. I knew neither wanted to hurt anyone, but an extra reminder is always a good thing.

Reason made every attempt to make us believe his innocence, but he kept looking skeptically at me. Did I know he was shit? Yes, Reason. I do. These were only looks in our eyes and not the words said. The words we said were all words I had exchanged with another addict that I cared deeply about. English Teacher and I left Reason at his door step. We headed out.

Eng. Teacher didn't know how to read Reason. I told him that Reason was guilty. I had seen the behavior and heard the words tooooo many times to not be able to pick up on it. I'm not stupid. PA thought I was. Reason might think I'm gullible. I'm not. I'm just tired.

Eng Teacher was amazed that Reason "was afraid" of him. I almost snapped that it was intimidation not exactly fear. What'd he expect? We knew Reason since before he smoked pot or even had a drink of liquor. Those two boys had been friends since kindergarten. Seriously long time for anyone to see the path you either chose or gets chosen for you.

So here we are. The Aesopian morale to the story...I guess.
We all have potential to come up golden. You see it in the faces of children when they're posing for their school pics or just losing themselves in a game. The Promise just doesn't happen to some. This is what has happened to Reason (and a lot of others). I know some of you are thinking that it was his choice, some are thinking it's where he's supposed to be, and some are thinking that his problem is bigger than himself. I've known him for a long time and saw what propelled him into his future of herion dependency. I believe it's mostly out of his control. I didn't say completely.

It's sad to see the your life go sour and see that others who've known you during better more hopeful times notice the fall. It's even sadder when you see those people whom you thought were lifelong friends turn away because of heavy shit. I've been on both sides. Fuck, I sat in the middle of it Sat night. I sat in the middle of it when dealing with my family and PA. And I still feel like I'm sitting in the middle of it. Funny how life goes.

I'm trying to mend my daughter's comforter without making my fingers into veritable pincushions. It's not going so well. I'm trying not to eat the entire brownie pan I made twenty minutes ago. AND I still have this damn drain hanging from my body! Gargh!

Fuck it. It's gorgeous outside. I'm goin' outside, eatin' another brownie, and washin' it down with a beer. Have a great weekend, ladies!

I decided last night after another night of being unable to sleep that Will Farrell is actually funny. In fact, I laughed so hard at his anchorman movie that my entire torso hurt hurt HURT until about 2:30 am. Now I know why my cousin said, "Scotch. Scotch. Scotch. I like scotch." to me. She was referring to my love of gin of which I haven't allowed myself to enjoy this past year. Not sure why...could be all the drugs I've been on.

Yesterday I started my last phase of recovery. I now have a "boob" on my left side. I won't be able to see it until tomorrow, but there's a bump there that has not been there since March 24 (or 22?). My other side looks youthful, but that's just conjecture because I haven't seen that one either. I'm just not wearing a bra and it floats in air. So that's why the youthful description.

Needless to say that when I'm not concentrating the achiness, I'm estatic. I look normal. So...I'll have to have a welcoming party or some sort of commemoration for my new aquisition. That'll probably be at the end of this phase. Thankfully, it'll be sooner than what I originally thought!

As you all know, my life has been stressful and frustrating for the past year. Labor Day weekend is usually seen as a capping off of summer fun and frivolity. This Labor Day weekend was different ( just like the rest of my year). This year my parents tried to help me relax by taking me and my kiddos with them on an extended weekend getaway to visit my brother and his pregger wife in the mountains of Colorado. What my extremely Republican family does not understand is that they DO NOT relieve me of any form of stress whatsoever.

We were in the van sooooo long that my daughter out of vehicular frustration begged, "How many more minutes do we have?". At which point I responded with a gravely, I'm-going-to-die-from-ennui voice, "HOURS". At which she shrieked thus causing both me and my (s)mother to laugh. You see, we spent 10 to 11 hours driving to and then fro and hours driving around Colorado in what (thanks to the now thrice seen movie RV) shall be forever named the "Big Rolling Turd", while listening to religious nuts ranting about their nutty beliefs.

I did find somethings wonderful and unforgettable that weekend...three extremely interesting women that I met in 2 different boutiques, the smell and crispness of autumn air and the beauty of the scenery, the fun I had with my kids alpine sliding after 20 years of not doing it, and the awesome handbag and earrings that I found in one of the boutiques.

There were truths that I learned from the trip although they were not the truths my parents wanted me to learn. I have learned that more than a few hours in any vehicle with 3 generations and a dog stuffed into it is WAY TOO LONG, Colorado has some the hottest men ever bred living in it, FS beer and food is WAY better than Breckenridge's, interesting people are found hidden amongst the banal, and my life is way too short to go through vacationing with the old folks ever again.

It was a fun trip for awhile. I do give it that, but it makes me think of the provebial teen question...Do I really come from these people?

Thank Goddess, I'm back! Pass me another beer on Monday. I need some churching!