Defending my ice cream

tonight - whilst enjoying a verboten bowl of Thrifty Drug Store (now Rite-Aid) ice cream, i was taken back to the late 80's.

no, the ice cream does not have time travel capabilities.

it reminded me of an essay i wrote. heck if i can remember why or for who i wrote it for. well...here it goes:

On Breaking a Diet

It's 9:30 on Monday night. Stores have closed, and people are out, crusing the night...except for me. I'm at home, toughing out the first few days of a diet, surrounded by Diet Coke & packs of sugar free gum. Lots of gum. Oh, and the TV food commercials. How nice. I'm SO hungry.

Then it happens.

"Thrifty's ice cream. Creamy. Nutty. Chocolately." (I'm beginning to believe I'm nutty for watching this. It's only torture. I'll change the channel. My hand refuses to move.) "Available in half gallons, hand scooped cones or lovingly hand packed pints and quarts. Come. Taste what has brought us honor at numerous state & county fairs. Only at Thrifty's."

The screen changes. I relax, thankful the torment is over...but only for a moment. I feel evil...unclean. The devil is here, in this same room. Sweat breaks out over my body. I wish for for Richard Simmons to confess to. The end is near and I need redemption.

So I grab a 3 Muskateers bar, rip the wrapper off and eat it.

I know...but what the hell. At least I don't feel guilty.

i'm an optimistic pessimist.

Anne Frank once said "Deep down, I truly believe that people are still good at heart."

That, my friends, is faith.

i, however, don't have that kind of faith. The events of today in Great Britain make me believe otherwise.

Call me naive, but i just don't get how people can interpreted their Faith in God - whoever they call God - as reason or excuse to kill people.

So now, again because of a-hole zealots, i and millions of travelers cannot carry bottles of water on a plane, we need to buy shampoo when we get to our destination AND new mothers will have to drink their baby's formula in front of TSA officials.

Talk about nasty stuff.

What if they breast feed? Will the mom have to spontaneously lactate to prove she's not AlQuida?

Whatever. I know these people are trying to protect "us" from "them," but sometimes, please - a little common sense is in order.

Other things shaking my faith in mankind...across the street from Casa de Us, is a little mini mart. The nicest man & his wife running the place. i'd go for milk, eggs or that last-minute lotto ticket.

They got robbed Tuesday. He was shot. Along with a customer who walked in later.

Wrong place, VERY wrong time.

The criminals (probably misunderstood & didn't get the Nintendo game he wanted as a kid - which is why they turned to a life of crime) came in the store, asked for cigarettes, and when the owner of the store turned to get them, the a-holes shot him.

The owner was soooooooo smart. He fell down & played dead.

A-holes took the register, then when the other guy came in, they shot him. Both are expected to survive, but Moe (the owner of the store) will probably lose his eye.

The entertainment factor came when the gas station next to the market has been overrun with members of the Fourth Estate & their newsvans. Watching a story unfold & reporting it to the masses. And my neighbors are outside watching the whole thing.

It's a party in Buena Park.

The story does have a good ending...the a-holes turned themselves in last night to the police.

Hey. Maybe there still is some good in people after all.

paying attention to the road.

the things you see on cars these days.

"Dumber than Advertised" - and -
"Somewhere in Texas, a village is missing it's idiot."

(could the two be connected? the truth is out there.)

"Kobe Bryant's Future Baby Momma"

(only if you are smoking hot.)

"Seat Belts: They're Not Just For Smart People Anymore"

"He who laughs last is slowest"

(wait....what? oh, i get it)

"I've spent all my money on eating out & scrapbooking supplies.
"The rest i just wasted."

(amen that)

"If at first you don't suceed, blame your parents."

(well, duh. my whole generation has made a career out of it.)

currently watching Anamaniacs on DVD. love that show.
"Uh, say Brain, what d'you wanna do tonight?"
"Same thing we do every night, Pinky...try to take over the world."

Get in line, Pinky...the Government is in front of the line.

peace out. and keep your eyes on the road.

labled by the internet.

Hmmm....tattoos. Interesting.
(you reading, baby?)
(sarcastic comments courtesy of you-know-who)


Your Scientific In-tele-gence Profile:Because you are a quick-witted individual (huh?)
and like to keep things moving along, you have an easier time keeping up with faster-paced television shows than most. You love rapid-fire dialogue because it fits in perfectly with your outgoing nature and witty communication style (so you're saying i'm hyper, right?).
You’re also a multi-tasker, so chances are you don’t have just one favorite show!We think you’d like: The First 48 and Inked

Your Tele-visionary Emotional Profile:You’re still a child at heart (only at heart? i've been called immature before, bruddah) and have a knack for turning any dull situation into a fun time for all. (Sure. just add beer)
You thrive on group discussions—and thanks to your eloquence and creativity, they thrive on you too! (OMG. i'm hosting parasites.)

Try this: Host an Inked party. “Ink” your guests the moment they walk in the door by stamping them with a rubber stamp and ink pad. Gather a wide variety of temporary tattoos and tape them to the wall of your “parlor” (or have guests bring their own designs to display!). Put 2 empty jars on a table.
Have each guest write their name on a slip of paper and drop them into the first jar. Then put an equivalent number of temporary tattoos in the second jar. Take turns drawing names from the first jar.
The guest whose name comes up has to reach into a second jar and blindly pick out a tattoo that they then have to wear—regardless of the design! Encourage those who have real tattoos to “reveal” how they got it and what it means to them.
Take photos and compile them into a tattoo gallery scrapbook. (oh darn. A&E wants me to scrap)

silly mohilly.

such a goof.

but pretty dang cute.

did i mention i'm crazy about him?

honestly. such a goof.

i didn't do it.

i didn't do this. It just happened. i'm not talented enough to make this appear in such preciseness.

If you can call it precise.

But it's a sign. i believe it.

It either means all will be well, smile darn ya smile or it means my beef does NOT have Mad Cow disease.
Eehhh. Some things are better left a mystery.

bleah.

i feel like ca-ca.

had a headcold most of the weekend, sore throat. feeling puny. exhausted.

but...i gotta go to work. today is the Boss's surprise party.

i dreamed about it. that i forgot half the stuff, and what i did have was in the back of my old car, a little Geo Storm. i had no one to help me carry it. no one to help me go back to my house.

talk about obsessive. i need to relax. and dump the sore throat.

aloha.

And on TV tonight...

Think of me as your TV e-Guide.

On second thought, don't.

'Cuz i am SO behind on things at times, it makes me ill.

First off, i make no secret of the fact that i cannot stand most reality TV. American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, Big Brother...bleah. Just cannot stand the train wreck that to me is most reality TV.

Except...

Driving Force. Dog the Bounty Hunter. Feasting on Asphalt (but it's no secret i'm in love with Alton Brown. Hubbs knows. He doesn't care. He thinks he'll eat better because of it.)

And now...add one more show to my Guilty Pleasures list: Desperate Housewives.

I know....where have i been?

Just never took the time to watch the bloody thing. But tonight, whilst having quality time with my remote, i happened to find the pilot on Lifetime.

Where have i been.

OK - when Bree, a perfect suburban housewife, finds out her husband wants a divorce (at a restaurant for heaven's sake), she is so thrown that she goes to the salad bar to make him a salad, gets distracted by someone talking to her, and adds onions to his salad.

He's allergic to onions.

So next scene, he's in the hospital, she's next to him. He says "I can't believe you tried to kill me."

She says, dryly - "Yes, well, I feel badly about that."

OMG. Who knew?

I may just have to watch this again.

Oranges to Another Day...

If i had a choice between gainful employment or gainful unemployment, i of course, will take Employment for $5000, Alex.

But after this week....well...suddenly, selling oranges at a freeway offramp doesn't seem like such a horrible idea.

Everyone has bad days..bad weeks even. Welcome to reality, right? And i'm not naive enough to think that i'm the only one this happens to.

It just feels that way sometimes.

The one wonderful thing about a bad day, is that it ends. Every day you get a new chance to start over.

It just takes longer to get that bitter taste out of your mouth.

At work, we've been planning a surprise birthday party for the Queen Boss. Collecting money from the masses. Selecting sandwich platters from Albertson's. Getting chocolate for the chocolate fountain (yay!). Going to Costco for chips. Lots of chips.

The Queen Boss' secretary took over from me collecting the money. Yesterday, she decided that she had too much money in proportion to people marked paid. So, of course i must have done something wrong in my record keeping.

Possibly. I ain't perfect. But cash is one of those things where i try to be beyond accountable. And especially when i kept a separate list, sorted by supervisors of who's paid.

Earlier in the week, my supervisor told me that my emails weren't "professional" enough. What she's looking for is, in my opinion, not my style. She wants a very cut & dried prose. Let's face it, cut & dried aren't two words you'd use to describe me.

But on the other hand, i also don't send emails like this:
"Yo dawg. Get your freak on & be done with the freakin' copysheet in your hou-uze. Fer shizzle."
There's other things that went on. But not only do i want to rehash it, i don't want to bring you down. I need all the readers i can get.

It's all OK. So i got my feelers hurt. My ego bruised. I'm moving on. Because again, every day, you get another chance to start over. To do things different. To move on & be better.

And, since Scarlett O'Hara is one of my literary heroes, i quote her mantra: Tomorrow is another day. She moved on. She survived the Civil War & Reconstruction for the love of Pete.

I believe i can survive the smack downs going on in my life.

Peace out. It's another day.

guest Random Thoughts....

before you freak, it's OK. I know the author. Just a little something she's working on & I said I'd blog it to see if she gets any comments...Like the blizzard of comments I get. But hey, this isn't about me...It's about her. Take it away, Dee.

"Do you think George Clooney sings his own stuff?"

I sigh inaudibly and shoot a glance at my sister, staring out the window of my car. We're driving down to San Diego, then on to Mexico for some really good Mexican food.
She's weird. Lord only know what'll come out of her mouth sometimes.

"I mean, do you think he's one of the Soggy Bottom Boys?"

At this point, I've decided she's lost it. Maybe I would be better off having her committed at an asylum before this trip gets even weirder.

"What are you talking about, Christine?"

Christine turns to me with all the attitude of a teenage girl...Which wouldn't be so bad except that she's 31 AND my older sister.
"Soggy Bottom Boys? 'O Brother, Where Art Thou?' George Clooney? Is any of this familiar, or are you too high brow for such common movies?"

Sarcasm, thy name is Sister.

"Come on," I yell, trying to keep my eyes on the thundering traffic on the freeway. "Cut me some slack here! Take a Midol, or something - just get an attitude adjustment, willya?"

We drove on in silence for a few more miles, when Christine piped up again.

"If he didn't sing it live, do you think it was lip-synched?"

I realize now how our mother must have felt. I've never understood her. I never will.
It's going to be a long trip and I wonder if I can make it to the rest stop without killing her.

from the work in progress My Life - My Gawd. Dee Menchia.