Oh I get it...like humor...but different.

Wednesday, June 30, 2004

I guess you can check out AND leave!

My most excellent friend, Monique, is about to depart California on a wild road trip cross country to her new home in Rhode Island. Mo is definitely the best thing I found in this state when I moved here, and I am going to miss her like crazy. (In fact, I think the entire state will simply shut down. If you hear about rolling blackouts, you will know what caused it.) However, because of the wonders of the internet, I know she will always be just a click away, at least virtually.

God speed, Mo. I hope you find everything that you deserve and more. And you know you always have a couch to sleep on and a dog to jump all over you here in Cali. Oh, and your pseudo "parents" and pseudo "sister."

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Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Why I do not like 4:00

It is 4:00, and a lot of the fun has gone of my day, as is the case most work days at 4:00. For one thing, hubcap heads home around 4:00. He and I email back and forth all day as we work, and after 4:00 the emails stop. [BTW, don't go all "wow, I wish I could go home at 4:00" on me; he gets to work at 6 a.m. and never takes lunch.]

Also, about 4:00 every day, PU2, who has been AIMing with me for most of the afternoon, says, "OK, I'm getting off now." So no more transmitted pictures of shirts or trucks that need purchasing.

So here I am. At work. With no entertainment. No one to IM with or E with. *big raggedy sigh* I may have to actually work out of boredom. Dayum.

ADDENDUM: And someone just popped popcorn. That is so cruel. There ought to be a law against popping popcorn after 4 p.m. The whole office smells like the Regal Theater now....*sigh*

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Monday, June 28, 2004

I live near here

This base, in Tustin, CA, was originally built to be a blimp base. The two blimp hangars are 1000 feet long and 300 feet wide and are supposedly the largest wooden structures in the world. Six blimps at one time could fit inside.

After the base was no longer needed for blimps, the hangars housed helicopters. And then the base was decommissioned and abandoned. Now the area is being developed for homes and a park. At least one of the blimp hangars, though, will remain. It has been designated as a historic landmark.

If you have ever been in the Tustin/Irvine area of California (or flown into or out of John Wayne Airport), you know that you can see these hangars from miles away. They are huge. I couldn't find the information on how tall they are, but if they are 300 feet wide [which would be about 30 stories wide], I think they must be at least 25 stories tall.

I know. I know. I don't even know why I am telling you this. I found a link to a site about abandoned airfields on Infomaniac's page, though, and I found it interesting. I just had to share!

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June Cleaver

It was a very domestic weekend for me.

Sunday Hubcap, PU2, and I mounted an assault on Best Buy and bought a new computer. The old one threw a scrap-iron fit and will be retired to boat anchor status. My main job, in the buying process, was to stand back and watch as Hubcap and PU2 discussed the comparative merits of several machines and then Hubcap started into the "I'll take one of those and two of those" routines that I love to observe. Once that man decides to spend money, stand back. Keep your hands and arms inside the cart at all times.

Then there was the ceremonial dragging home of the oversized boxes. The 'puter came with a monitor and a printer and a bunch of other totally necessary stuff in small boxes, and we got it all crammed into the back of my Jeep Liberty, but I was left with a 1/3-size back seat to sit in (PU2 was driving, of course, and Hubcap had shotgun). But in spite of a curb that jumped out and threw itself under PU2's tires, we made it home in one piece.

Hubcap and PU2 did the honors of removing the boat anchor and setting up the new system. Hubcap was the unboxer and lifter. PU2 was the plugger and hooker. My services were called for when something needed to be dusted. [From each according to his ability...] I am joyous to report that all went smoothly and the shouts of dismay that I expected did NOT come....and by evening Hubcap was able to play poker again and PU2 was able to tempt the legalistic fates by downloading music. And I like the pretty blue lights. So we are all happy.

Saturday was a housework day for PU2 and me. We are trying to get a little prepacking done in our house based on the assumption that someday soon we will be listing it for sale. And yet, we don't want to offend the "Job Offer Gods" by being too proactive (you know, that old "jinx" thing....). And yet, once a job offer DOES come, things are going to need to be done very quickly, so wouldn't it be good to have some of it done in advance? And yet, what if we are too optimistic and have to face disappointment. And yet.....Well, anyway, we packed a lot of boxes and piled them out of the traffic flow, and already we are beginning to see the "Why didn't we keep it like this for US" side of preparing a house to sell. It feels good to be accomplishing something...

So that is just about a boring weekend, eh? Didn't even go to a show.....

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Friday, June 25, 2004

Drove my Chevy to the levy...

I grew up in a small, very small, town in Arkansas, so learning to drive was pretty simple. My first driving experience involved taking my dad's 1951 Plymouth (white over yellow), three-speed on the column, around and around and around the football field until he felt I was ready to hit the mean streets of Bentonville. My biggest challenge was the jack-rabbit starts I caused as I tried to master the synchronization of clutch and gas.

I took drivers ed through my high school. It was only offered in the summer, and the teacher, Coach Fuqua, would take out three kids at once is his specially outfitted drivers ed car (with a full set of pedals and a steering wheel on the passengers side). Although he once nearly removed my index finger from my palm when he felt my steering needed correction, he did a bang-up job of teaching me to parallel park. I am the QUEEN of parallel parking.

In those days, the rule for judging distance between yourself and the car in front of you was simple: one car length of distance for every 10 mph. And in those days, people honored that distance.

Not today. Thank you very much. If you try to follow four car lengths behind a car, four cars will pull into the gap. Five, if that Mini Cooper can manage it. These days they teach the kids to judge the distance by counting seconds. But even that leaves a gap that two Escalades and a Ralphs truck head for. I have adjusted. I have. I have been in Cali long enough to know how to drive in heavy traffic. If you can't read the "objects in mirror may be closer than they appear" print on the mirror of the guy in front of you, you are too far back!

And those people...those second counters, those car length figurers....those are the "gappers." You know them. They leave TOO much space in front, as you follow behind them, reading the print on their mirrors and discussing their heritage and mental status. As you watch car after car pull in front of them. As they let everyone who is merging in, two, THREE cars, not just the one that courtesy demands. What are they DOING up there? Can't they see that you are back here? You could be where THEY are if they would just get out of the way....and that 1.43 seconds difference, that might be THE difference. If I could just be 1.43 seconds farther up on the freeway, I could make it to work SOOO much faster. I could make it through that long red light at the end of the exit BEFORE it turns red. But NO. I have to be behind a GAPPER, and I am going to miss the green light. Hell, I'll probably be the car that is right underneath that overpass when that big truck goes over the edge, and I will be a pancake because of a damn GAPPER. Damn gappers.

Happy Friday to all...unless you are a GAPPER, in which case, move it!!!


I spoke to PU2 at lunch today about my feelings about gappers. She shares them, by the way. However, she suggested that there is at least one valid reason (and probably more) for gapping: The driver in front of you is clearly psychotic and/or drunk and, therefore, unpredictable (valid reason).

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Thursday, June 24, 2004


Thanks to Butterfly Teeth for a great post (see the one dated June 23 entitled "I'll Take 'People Are Whining Snotbags' For A Thousand, Alex..."). Good reminder.

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Wednesday, June 23, 2004

My Pie Hole

I found this link on Kid Jacque's page. Definitely good for a grin. Turn up the sound.

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Automotive body language

As I was driving to work this morning in a California downpour (meaning the wipers were on the lowest interval setting), I was thinking how well inanimate objects such as cars can communicate. Here are a few of the non-verbal messages I saw being shared between automobiles on the 5.

I want to be in your lane.
I want to be in your lane exactly where YOU are.
Can I please get in your lane? Please? Please? Will you let me?
There is no freakin' WAY you are getting in this lane.
I am afraid to get too close to the car in front of me.
You don't drive fast enough.
Get the hell out of my way.
Get off my ass.
I am going to kill you, chop you up, and Fed Ex the pieces to your mother.

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Tuesday, June 22, 2004

Reason number one my job sucks

I believe I may have mentioned that I am an editor. Yup, there it is, over there to the right. An editor. I have worked as an editor, total, for over a decade. I also have some paper from a college that gives me the right to say I am trained as an editor.

I am currently working for an internet-related company, editing the copy on web pages, and I have been here for a year. Among the many services I provide as I edit the copy is that I change words that are referred to as words into italic type. You all know what I mean; you studied this starting in about fourth grade. When you are talking about a word or a term, it is italicized. For example, I often misspell the word commitment. Or, if you are going to use the word infer, make sure you don't actually imply.

So, after one year and two weeks of employment and italicization, an email comes out to the entire company from a higher up. "Who," it demands to know, "has been putting words in slanty type? What is the convention? Why is this being done?"

*sigh* "Slanty type"?

Me, I answer...and here is the convention--quoting The Chicago Manual of Style. Next thing I hear (through the grapevine), is that the higher up is going from person to person in the company asking what they think about doing this, does it seem right, la di da, la di da. *sigh* Yeah, editing by committee. That works, always.

The bottom line of this doesn't matter. What matters more is that I felt righteous indignation and took my complaint to my best friends. One, although only 15 years old, knew the convention very well and was indignant alongside me. The other, a pragmatist of epic proportions, said, "What do you care? It's their company. If they say don't use italic, you don't use italic."




Although my internal monologue said, "If they told me to jump off a bridge, I wouldn't," I had to think he might be right.

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Monday, June 21, 2004


Main Entry: hai·ku
Pronunciation: 'hI-(")kü
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural haiku
Etymology: Japanese
: an unrhymed verse form of Japanese origin having three lines containing usually 5, 7, and 5 syllables respectively; also : a poem in this form usually having a seasonal reference -- compare TANKA

Outwardly, summer
inside, winter's chilly blast
a war of seasons

Hell YEAH! Take THAT!

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Friday, June 18, 2004

Pimp my ride

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It's Friday.
I got nothing.
Comment on that, you complainers!

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Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Random thoughts

Don't you hate it when you eat a handful of wonderful grapes, but the last one is the one that is sour? And THAT is the taste you are stuck with?

Why do men spit?

Maidenform. I saw a Maidenform store this past weekend. When I was a teenager, that was THE bra to buy. I used to buy bras in department stores, where they had bra fitters (down boys--they were always gray-haired ladies). I was MORTIFIED that I had to have some strange old lady laying her hands on me, saying "How does this fit?" Awful.

Sergei thinks I am crazy. For some reason, I find that to be comforting.

I love bed. Bed is one of the best things in life. A soft bed with cool, clean sheets and a nice blanket...one of life's true luxuries. Sleeping late, afternoon naps...

My dog is a scaredycat. He is afraid to go out at night because of noises he hears "out there." He is terrified of storms, of rain, of carrots popping, and of bubblewrap.

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Tuesday, June 15, 2004


After three years of living in California, I finally felt an earthquake. OK, I felt one once before, but this one was better, so I am calling it the first.

Yeah me. I am a happy camper.

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I am an inspiration. Or perspiration. Who can tell.

This was written for me by a man who works in customer service at my work, and I thought it was clever....So, for your enjoyment....

Top Ten Reasons I know Nancy loves and appreciates me:

10. Ooh, look, something shiny.
9. What were we talking about?
8. Rogaine brochures littering my cubicle.
7. Constant references to the Pimp University intern program when I bring up my education.
6. Southern women and their inability to censor themselves.
5. Free technical support when she breaks stuff.
4. Two words - Y'all
3. All those kind lunch invitations... no, wait, restraining orders.
2. She's only threatened me five or thirty times.

and the number one reason I know that Nancy loves and appreciates me:

1. She hasn't even complained about me stalking her. The police said so!

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CJ at the Beach

It's a dog's life. First I had to spend the afternoon at the dog beach, sniffing butt and playing in the sand. I was a little worried that all that water was a giant, noisy bathtub. But I did love running with the other dogs. Then after we went home, that blonde kid, PU2, baked me doggie cookies. It's tough being a dog in California. But I think I am up to the challenge.

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Friday, June 11, 2004

Googlism for: nancy

My thanks to Sergei for the link to Googlism. For anyone who is trying to figure him- or herself out, I suggest that you try googlisming your name. Just look at what I learned about myself this morning!
nancy is close to going to hell
nancy is pregnant and ready for you to examine her
nancy is a sneaky little snot
nancy is the stripped essence of a person
nancy is doing a big damage to us and she is doing bad damage to her soul
nancy is no stranger to mixed wrestling
nancy is the zetan emissary
nancy is a bitch
nancy is wrong
nancy is making cameo appearances
nancy is warm
nancy is about as spritual as a toaster
nancy is a mother in the "house"
nancy is the owner of yankee tartans
nancy is very accurate
nancy is poised to attract a whole legion of new fans
nancy is generous with her knowledge
nancy is simply one of the most amazing people i've ever known
nancy is god
nancy is the chief of forecasting
nancy is a punk
nancy is busy
nancy is not merely a latte liberal

Damn straight, people! Listen up! I am NOT merely a latte liberal!

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Thursday, June 10, 2004

Hooray for PU2!

This is the blogger equivalent of me carrying PU2 through the streets of the town on my shoulder, shouting "Huzzah!" and throwing confetti. I want to tell you, that girl kicks major butt. She has had the semester to end all semesters at school, and I just want to be the first to say, "You rock, babygirl!"
Here's to your
self control

I am a very proud mom. *giant grin* And oh boy, what a life you have ahead of you!

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Wednesday, June 09, 2004

Urban myth?

Did you hear the urban myth about the woman who, in the "employee's comments" section of her annual review, actually wrote her comments, at some length, and the president of the company said, "Wow, thanks for these comments, they are thought-provoking and well written, can I share them with the rest of the management team? You have some good ideas, and we would like to have a meeting about them"?

Not a myth. Actually happened. That sound you heard was my jaw hitting the floor.

Oh, AND they are moving me to a quieter cubicle.

What am I going to rant about now? They are taking away my best material....

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Why is it?

Why is it that the only cars you see parked with "the club" on the steering wheel are POS hoopties that you wouldn't steal if you were being chased through the streets by PMSing monsters on crack? Have you ever seen "the club" on a nice car? No. It's always the 1984 Toyota Corollas with the busted-ass back lights and the smashed-in passenger door and enough old McDonald's wrappers in the back floorboard to papier mache a complete solar system...lifesize.

And why is it that people in California spend good money on a convertible and humongous money to live in a state with damn-near-perfect weather and then drive around with their freaking convertible tops up? I think anyone who drives a convertible with the top up should be shot on sight and their car confiscated and delivered to someone who knows how to appreciate a convertible. I volunteer.

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Tuesday, June 08, 2004

Internal Monologue

I am a generally nice person. I am polite and thoughtful. I was well raised by my southern momma, and I try to be kind to everyone.

Therefore, I have a raging internal monologue.

I would go so far as to say that 83.4% of all nice people have raging internal monologues. Do you know what I mean? That voice in the back of your head that says what you REALLY mean while your physical voice says what you have been well-raised to say.

For example:

Is that a new outfit? (Did someone tell you you look good in that, cause if they did, they flat-ass lied.)
It's always interesting to talk to you. (If you were any stupider I'd add peat moss and plant a philodendron in you.)
That is an interesting way of looking at the situation. (Are you living in a parallel universe? Are we even on the same planet?)
I appreciate your input on this annual review. (If you had half an idea what it is that I actually DO around here, it would be amazing...and do you realize this is in direct contradiction to what you said on my LAST review?)
I am sorry you are not feeling well. (Why don't you tell this to a freakin' doctor who can actually DO something for you?)
I can see that you have a tough decision to make. (Who gives a shit.)
Body piercings are very popular these days, aren't they? (You look like a freaking pin cushion.)
Sure, I can do that. (Because I live to serve and have nothing else to do and have no need for a life. Poopybritches!)
It must be interesting to have a side business selling ______ (Aieeee! Save me! Someone hit the fire alarm, this dude wants to sell me something!)
I appreciate your honesty. (And wish I could do the same for you.)

Ah, well. Think about the nice people in your life. Think about what is going on in their heads. Watch out for that word interesting. It's a dead giveaway that the internal monologue is in high gear. :-)

By the way, this does not apply to the members of my immediate family. I am always completely honest with them and never have an internal monologue where they are concerned. (Yeah, right, whatever! Sheesh, what a liar.)

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Monday, June 07, 2004


I was checking out Sergei's page just now and followed a link to a personality test. I am really very sorry that I did.

I find that I am "an irredeemably eejitous, liberal, disgustingly generous, seizure-inducingly boring spod." Since I don't have a CLUE what eejitous means (not to mention spod), I am unsure how offended I should be. But I have a pretty good idea that that is not a good thing to be.

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Do you remember when...?

I get these email things all the time, but this one started me reminiscing, so I wrote down my thoughts and posted them. This is probably not of interest to anyone but me, but it was fun walking down memory lane a bit. I welcome comments from all the O.P.s out there who remember these things as well as I do…..


All the girls had ugly gym uniforms? (Black shorts with a gold tiger on the leg and a white tee-shirt. And we would have died a thousand deaths rather than actually SHOWER in front of the other girls. We must have been a stinky bunch! The worst thing was the year I had P.E. right after lunch and then went to civics….in a high school without air conditioning. Ack. Makes me feel nauseous just thinking about it.)

It took five minutes for the TV warm up? (I was five when we got our first tv…with that great rotor control that made the antenna turn [I can hear my mom now, yelling, “Nancy, leave that alone!!!”] I remember the “radar” that the local weathermen were so proud of—it looked like a lava lamp gone mad, but they assured us that “that” was Joplin, and there was a bad storm near there.)

Nearly everyone's Mom was at home when the kids got home from school? (My mom was at home until I was in the sixth grade...and even after she started working, my great-grandmother was there when I got home.)

Nobody owned a purebred dog? (Our first pet was a stray cat that adopted us.)

When a quarter was a decent allowance? (This was before my time. But I remember the summer that I babysat for my brother full time (plus taking care of all the housecleaning and grocery buying and cooking dinner every night). I got paid $20 a week. It was a fortune.)

You'd reach into a muddy gutter for a penny? (Nope. Never did that. But I would reach into a muddy gutter for a pop bottle that was worth a nickel.)

Your Mom wore nylons that came in two pieces? (Me too! My first nylons came in a lovely flat box, one pair per box, and they were non-stretchy. They had to be exactly the right size, or they would never fit. And they felt, oh my God, SO good….smooth, silky. Oh, and I wore them with a GIRDLE. I only weighed 120 pounds, but I wore a girdle to school to hold up my nylons. What a hoot.) (And slept on brush rollers every night so my –do would be perfect.)

All your male teachers wore neckties and female teachers had their hair done every day and wore high heels? (Yep…and there was only one male teacher in my entire elementary school. And the word was that he was MEAN!)

You got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, all for free, every time? And you didn't pay for air? And, you got trading stamps to boot? (I remember when gas was 29 cents a gallon. I think that was what it was when I first started buying it, having it pumped into my 67 VW bug, sky blue.)

Laundry detergent had free glasses, dishes or towels hidden inside the box? (I still have a huge set of dishes that my mom and grandmothers collected this way – golden wheat pattern. They came in Duz detergent.)

It was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents? (Yup. Best thing was broasted potatoes at the Jan-Lin…or anything at the bus station. And we went out to eat, at most, twice a month.)
They threatened to keep kids back a grade if they failed. . .and they did? (Yup.)

When a 57 Chevy was everyone's dream car...to cruise, peel out, lay rubber or watch submarine races, and people went steady? (Isn’t the 57 Chevy STILL a dream car? I know PU2 would take one in a heartbeat. And going steady…oh my. All the levels of steady….Wearing his class ring. Getting “dropped” [that was a necklace with the letters of a fraternity on it]. Getting pinned [fraternity pin]. But you know what was BETTER then? Dating around. Unless they were going steady, kids could date several people, and no one thought anything of it. Now, it seems, kids only date one person at a time until they “break up” [even if they weren’t really going “steady” at all.] What is THAT about? You don’t just go out with someone for a lark, because they you are hooked to that person until you have the big drama of ending it. Dumb.)

No one ever asked where the car keys were because they were always in the car,
in the ignition, and the doors were never locked? (Not true at my house. My mom was a bit paranoid. But when I was first married and lived in the country, yes, definitely. We didn’t even KNOW how to lock the doors on our first house.)

Lying on your back in the grass with your friends and saying things like, "That cloud looks like a .." (Yup. But teeter-tottering in the back yard was better.)
and playing baseball with no adults to help kids with the rules of the game? (Recess, the bell rings, there is a stampede to claim the baseball diamonds at the back of the playground. There are only three diamonds, and the sixth graders always win [their classrooms are the closest to the door, and they can run the fastest.] Everyone plays, girls AND boys, even if you don’t have a glove. I love the feel of the crack of the bat against the ball…)

Stuff from the store came without safety caps and hermetic seals because no one had yet tried to poison a perfect stranger? (Yup. And talking to strangers was not only not a problem, it was expected. We said “Good morning” to everyone.)

And with all our progress, don't you just wish, just once, you could slip back in time and savor the slower pace, and share it with the children of today? (Oh, my, yes. I wish I could transport PU2 from HER high school [with all the snotty little shits and druggies and such] to MY high school, with my graduating class of 134 people, all of whom I knew, and the field trips, and the fun, and the ball games, and the bowling alley….and the friends….What a Norman Rockwell life I had. I don’t think there are Norman Rockwell lives any more.)

When being sent to the principal's office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited the student at home? Basically we were in fear for our lives, but it wasn't because of drive-by shootings, drugs, gangs, etc. Our parents and grandparents were a much bigger threat! But we survived because their love was greater than the threat. (It’s a wonder we all survived!:-)

How many of these do you remember?

Candy cigarettes (I looked so cool with a stick of white candy between my fingers.)

Wax Coke-shaped bottles with colored sugar water inside (Yes, and wax lips too.)

Soda pop machines that dispensed glass bottles (and you got money back for the bottles!)

Coffee shops with tableside jukeboxes (The best! And you got four plays for a quarter.)

Blackjack, Clove and Teaberry chewing gum (Don’t remember this.)

Home milk delivery in glass bottles with cardboard stoppers (I think this was before my time, at least before my time for remembering.)

Newsreels before the movie (I do remember that…and I remember going to the one theater in town EVERY Saturday night, no matter what was playing, because that’s just what one did in smalltown America.)

P.F. Fliers (and Keds. I always longed for Keds, but we couldn’t afford them.)

Telephone numbers with a word prefix....(Raymond 4-601). (Yup. Crestwood. I remember when the phone number was just three numbers, and all calls were placed through the operator (before there was even a dial on the phone)

Party lines (I still had a party line until I was probably 25, since I lived in the country. Interesting what conversations you could overhear as you picked up the phone to make a call.)

Peashooters (Hey. I was a GIRL!)

Howdy Dowdy (Yup.)

45 RPM records (I just finally tossed my collection of 45s about a month ago. I had a beach bag full of them. But there were in terrible shape. I played them until the grooves were an inch deep. But I had some Beatles 45s that would have been worth money if they had been in decent condition.)

Green Stamps (That’s how I furnished my first apartment! People gave green stamps for wedding presents!)

Hi-Fi's (That $20 a week I got for babysitting went to buy my first hi-fi.)(Record albums were $3.00. Oh, but stereo cost a bit more. That was for mono.)

Metal ice cubes trays with levers (I thought I had died and gone to heaven when I got my first refrigerator with an ice maker. I still think it is one of man’s greatest inventions.)

Mimeograph paper (Memories of working in the office of the vice principal in high school. I did all his mimeo work and tried to stay more than an arm’s length away from him. Handsy bastard.)

Beanie and Cecil (No memory of this.)

Roller-skate keys (Yup, though I could never skate)

Cork pop guns (My mom would never let me have one…you know, I would put my eye out, etc.)

Drive-ins (THE date of choice in my teenage years. I saw some truly awful movies, but it didn’t matter if you were with “the” guy.)

Studebakers – (These were always classic cars to me. I don’t remember Studebakers ever being “new.” I thought they only came in “old,” like armadillos only come in “dead by the roadside.”)

Washtub wringers (My grandmother had one. She did laundry on the back porch and ran all the garments through the wringer, then hung them on the line out back to dry.)

The Fuller Brush Man (Not in my town. We weren’t big enough to need brushes.)

Reel-To-Reel tape recorders (Absolutely.)

Tinkertoys (And Lincoln Logs. You bet.)

Erector Sets (My brother had one. I never had one of these. But I did have one of the original Barbies.)

The Fort Apache Play Set (Nope.)

Lincoln Logs (They taste funny. So do Tinker Toys.)

15 cent McDonald hamburgers (We didn’t get a McDonalds in my home town until I was nearly grown, but I remember the McDonalds at a nearby larger town. I also remember buying two packs of hostess cupcakes [that would be four cupcakes] for a quarter.)

5 cent packs of baseball cards with that awful pink slab of bubble gum (I can taste the gum…)

Penny candy (Pixie sticks, a dozen for a dime.)

35 cent a gallon gasoline (I remember it cheaper than that.)

Jiffy Pop popcorn (Yes, and that was a big improvement over doing it in the skillet.)

Do you remember a time when...

Decisions were made by going "eeny-meeny-miney-moe"? (“catch a tiger by the toe.”)

Mistakes were corrected by simply exclaiming, "Do Over!"? (Isn’t that still the case? When did that change?)

"Race issue" meant arguing about who ran the fastest?

Catching the fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening? (Mason jars with holes punched in the lid make a lovely lantern – and the best part was freeing them all at bedtime and watching them fly away.)

It wasn't odd to have two or three "Best Friends"? (I had three “friendship” rings when I was in junior high from my three “best” friends. One of them is STILL my best friend [love ya, Starpath Beta!])

The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was "cooties"? (The cooties today are killer.)

Having a weapon in school meant being caught with a slingshot?

A foot of snow was a dream come true? (Oh, my, this is SOOOO true. I loved snow and snow days. My junior year in high school, though, we had so many snow days that we ended up going to school on Saturdays.)

Saturday morning cartoons weren't 30-minute commercials for action figures?

"Oly-oly-oxen-free" made perfect sense?

Spinning around, getting dizzy, and falling down was cause for giggles?

The worst embarrassment was being picked last for a team?

War was a card game?

Baseball cards in the spokes transformed any bike into a motorcycle? (I can hear it now, the “thwap thwap thwap” of those cards. How cool was that?)

Taking drugs meant orange-flavored chewable aspirin? (St. Josephs. Yummy.)

Water balloons were the ultimate weapon? (Hell yeah! Starpath Beta and I went out of the roof of the front porch of my house and dropped them on trick-or-treaters one year. Nasty little shits, we were!)

If you can remember most or all of these, then you have lived!!!!!!!

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Friday, June 04, 2004


I can't let the week end without a post, and I have, frankly, nuthin to say....so I will leave you with a couple of pictures.

First, downtown LA taken from Mulholland Drive. PU2 and I took this picture when we were there recently.

And second, a lifeguard tower on Balboa Beach not too long before sunset.

What the heck--here is one more. PU2 took this one on the beach at Balboa. I like the "feel" of it, but, boy, is that giant sea gull going to eat the tiny, little man with the metal detector?! Film at eleven....

Everyone have a great weekend! *group hug*

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Thursday, June 03, 2004


To the nine people who have come to my site while googling "traveshamockery," I apologize. There is nothing here about Miller beer. I just stole the word from a funny commercial. You must have been so disappointed.....

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Will the REAL PU2 please stand up

Here is how PU2 sees herself. Apparently she doesn't feel as blonde as she looks to me.

I'm not really sure about the catears....I don't THINK they hire 15 year olds as bunnies, do they? For that matter, ARE there bunnies any more? Hmmmmm.

And here is more of me, 'cause I KNOW you can't get enough of me. Uh-huh.

If you haven't tried this shit yet, don't. I'm tellin' ya, don't go there. It is addictive. Unless you are unemployed. Or want to be.

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Wednesday, June 02, 2004

This is addictive

Here is my interpretation of PU2. Her own is actually better than this, but I don't have a copy of the electronic file yet.

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Thanks a lot, Boz!

Thanks to Boz, I have just wasted an hour of my day playing with a portrait icon maker...that is time I will never get back, I want you to know.

Go. Play. It's more fun than puppies on linoleum.

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Tuesday, June 01, 2004

What's This?

Let's see if you have written anything new, Solo. What, nothing since last Friday? Good grief, woman! What the hell have you been doing? Working? No way. I know you don't work. I know you are having a silent strike and refusing to do the work of the corporation. So it can't be that. And yet nothing. I know you don't post over the weekend....I have come to expect silence over the weekend. But it is almost 2 p.m. Pacific, and nothing? Not a word? Could there have been a terrible accident over the holiday? Oh, my. Maybe Solo WAS driving solo in the HOV lane and was crushed by a wayward Hummer (the car, people, the car). Maybe there was a horrible accident at the nail salon and Solo is doing her Paula Abdul impression, with her arm in a sling, unable to type with her left hand {jkl;yuiopnm}. Or maybe she had such a wonderful three-day weekend that she decided to call in dead and just keep on vegging. I don't know. I am, frankly, concerned. It is not like her to slack at her slacking. Was it the Memorial Day "West Wing" marathon that did it? Was it the backlash from the George Lopez "Why you cryin'?" special? Was it a bad burger from the backyard barbeque? We should call someone. The authorities should be notified.

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