The Maturity of Meatloaf, Mashed Potatoes And Green Beans

I believe the roots of maturity can be linked to the time that you realize that meatloaf is not what you thought it to be. What used to be the worst, most disgusting food on the planet, you suddenly find yourself deciding that instead, it's quite good. Meatloaf night, as a kid, was a fate worse than death, but you somehow managed to hide most of it, undetected, under the mashed potatoes and went straight to dessert. Then somewhere along the way, you and your taste buds graduated to appreciate it for what it is, a wholesome yet tasty comfort food.

The gateway through meatloaf can take you on a crash course of other previously denounced cuisines. All at once you begin exploring food options that at one time were off limits. Fish? Might not be so bad. Spinach? Essential and pure; as well as other veggies-cauliflower, carrots, peas and brussel sprouts. The mature mind becomes hungry for the goodness it has been missing.

Once the floodgates of meatloaf maturity are opened, there's no stopping one from tasting any and all obscure food choices. The palate is now the scholar and the education, inviting and challenging, with more than a few surprises along the way. Pea soup, eggs, mushrooms, oysters, salmon, tomato juice, even tongue. One thinks, "If meatloaf didn't kill me, maybe these aren't so bad. I'm mature now and I'll try it, at least."

My children are just on the cusp. They will eat half of the meatloaf , mashed potatoes and green beans on their plate, yet still ask for dessert. Upon inspection, I find no meatloaf under the potatoes, but they are still young and time is on their side. They will, however, try new foods. Sushi and spinach among the list of things they now like. They are in the infancy stages of this new found maturity. If only psychological maturity were this easy.



I offer you my favorite recipes for Meatloaf, Mashed Potatoes and Green Beans:

Meatloaf:

2 lbs. 85% lean ground beef
1 cup oats
2 eggs
1 1/4 cup ketchup
1 small onion, chopped
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
1/4 cup milk
1/8 tsp Worcestershire Sauce


Pre-heat oven to 350.
Mix ingredients in a large bowl until all ingredients are incorporated.
Place mixture into a 9x5 loaf pan.

Bake 1 hour 15 minutes


Mashed Potatoes:

Peel and cut into quarters 8-10, white potatoes. (Number of potatoes can vary according to servings)

Boil potato quarters in rapidly boiling water until wedges are soft enough to stick a fork through easily.

Drain potatoes and mash in bowl.
Add 3/4 of a stick of butter-cut into pieces-
salt to taste (about a 1/2 tsp)
1/2 cup milk

Mix with a hand mixer until smooth and creamy.
Serve immediately.


Green Beans:

Steam 4 cups cut up green beans (till tender when pierecd with fork) in microwave or on stovetop-according to stovetop steamer directions and/or microwave directions.

Drain beans and put in serving bowl.
Add 2-3 TBSP butter and mix until melted.
Top off with garlic salt to taste. (about 1/2 teaspoon)

Serve immediately.

From The Archives Of My Mind: Woods Parties

I grew up in a small rural town in a southern suburb of Boston. It was, and still is a great little town, with a top school system and a high median priced home. There were lots of sprawling hills and woods aplenty, which today I am surprised to see have turned into massive sub-divisions with equally massive homes. I still have family that lives in the town and as I was driving through recently, I went by one of the subdivisions I referred to and remembered what it used to be. Miles and miles of undisturbed woods. Of course things were different back then, and as kids in high school do, we appreciated and utilized the woods for their intended splendor; a great cover for our woods parties.

If I remember correctly, what started out as a group of freshman in high school looking for a discreet place to illegally drink undetected, quickly turned into our chosen weekend destination. We called it "84", the name paying homage to the year of our graduating class. 84 was deep in the woods along a horse farm lined street, with the entrance at the top of a field. We would enter through the field, cases of beer and brown paper bags in hand, and walk until we reached a clearing in the woods. There, we built a huge fire pit, complete with seating, out of logs and rocks. We lit a fire, brought a "boom box", and got wasted under the twinkle of the stars in the sky. It was great and soon enough, word got out around the school. Each weekend, more and more upperclassmen came to join in the celebration at 84. Some of my most memorable high school social triumphs and tribulations took place in the woods at that sacred place.

But, as with all good things which inevitably come to an end, the triumph of 84 did indeed come to an end. With the influx of upperclassmen came their cars, and more bodies which meant more alcohol and more volume. It certainly didn't take long for the jig to be up. The music got louder, the cars became noticeably lined along the quiet street and the cops in the small town were bored enough to have a reason to pounce. The first time it happened, I remember looking up and seeing the boys in blue standing at attention around the fire. Imagine tons of kids scattering like cockroaches under a just lit a light bulb, running through the thick of the woods. The woods were dense and dark and the cops were greatly out numbered, but they pursued us on foot without much success.

Most of us ended up with multiple scrapes, cuts, and bruises from tree branches or sprained ankles and a concussion or two from running full speed into a large tree trunk in the black of the thick woods. This quickly became the game. It was us against them, and if you went to 84 for an evening, the chances were great that you would end up "running from the bust" as we used to call it. Even though we always entered through the same place, we ended up coming out at different spots and you never ended up with the friends that you came with. Instead you ended up with whomever happened to be running in the same direction as you, no where near where you started. Usually on a dimly lit street somewhere in the town and you and the kids you hardly knew had to trek back home on foot. Great times.

As a parent of a high school aged child now, I think back at the dangers of our weekends at 84 with wonder. This was before cell phones and we irresponsibly ran rampant around our quiet town. The local papers published articles with the police chief warning parents about the perils of "out of control underage drinking in the woods". It's a wonder no one was killed or abducted. The horror we all put our parents through. But somehow it seemed like a different time back then and most certainly a different world. A pure and innocent world where running from the cops on a Saturday night was a rite of passage.

The Ex Files

I have a question that I need your valued opinion on.

Emily Post, I'm not, so I figured I'd ask all of you. You guys always give me the best advice anyway, so here goes:

Is it proper etiquette to send your upcoming wedding invitation to your ex-wife's home?

Granted, your two children live in your ex-wife's home and both children make up the entire wedding party. It's pretty much a sure bet-a lock- that both of them will be there. The children are kids-ages 14 and 12, so they are not invited "with guests". The kids will be with him on that entire weekend, so they have no need for time, place, and all the other things a wedding invitation entails.

Now before you go thinking I have "bitter ex-wife syndrome", let me explain. Four years later, we have both effectively moved on and the wedding has been a known fact for quite some time. No surprises. I habor no ill will towards anyone other than Jackass for other reasons far too numerous to mention here. For the sake of the children we manage to be civil-most of the time. Makes us no different than the thousands of other divorced poeple in the world.

When I got the mail and saw the invitation, I found it a bit strange, but at first glance I thought to myself, "OK, they need to respond", but the more I let it marinate in my mind, the more I think this was meant to be a direct slap in my face.

Of course, by giving it life and putting it to words here on The Dandy, I have effectively lit the match and ignited the bonfire that was intended. And Jackass would like nothing better, but sorry to disappoint, I am now curious and I am looking to clarify the grey area here.

What's your opinion/expertise on this matter?

I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell

I was at the local Barnes and Noble about two weeks ago. I made my purchases and was walking out of the store, gloves on and keys in hand, when a book on the table closest to the door caught my eye. It's title, "I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell". I picked it up and turned it over where my eyes were met with the first words on the back, "My name is Tucker Max and I am an a**hole." Immediately, I was hooked. I then opened the book and started reading through it. Much to my delight, I quickly realized that this was a book full of previously posted blog entries. A blogger done good! I could hardly believe it. Of course, I had to buy it.

"The runaway New York Times best seller" is described as "highly entertaining and thoroughly reprehensible". They weren't kidding. Tucker Max, author of the blog posts, parlayed his hilarious, completely offensive, sophomoric, outlandish life experiences into blog posts on his wildly popular web site, TuckerMax.com, and then into a best seller in 2006. A twenty-something law student at the time of most of the posts, Tucker's tales of his complete and uncautionary abuse of both alcohol and women are in one word-unbelievable.

If his book is correct, it's a miracle that Tucker still has the use of his liver and has not, at this point, succumbed to the dangers of a sexually transmitted disease. With titles like, "Tucker Tries Butt Sex; Hilarity Does Not Ensue, The Night We Almost Died and The Worst Tucker Story Ever", the book is both engrossing and repulsive.

And I am recommending it to you.

I couldn't put it down. I laughed hard, was utterly repulsed, questioned it's authenticity at times, and was offended, but I can't say I wasn't entertained. It was an easy read and I admire his style of writing. The boy can tell a story.

Since the book was published in 2006, I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell has been made into an independently financed movie and his book has been revised and expanded with new material. You can follow all the movie's comings and goings on ihopetheyservebeerinhell.com. It's just about the only place that Tucker himself blogs regularly, when he is not on tour for the re-release of his book.

The Tucker Max book tour hit Boston last night and I had to see this guy for myself. The line to see Tucker snaked throughout the entire book store and his fans were rowdy. Let's just say that his fans are made up of 20-25 year old college guys and young ladies looking for a, er, um, a good time with Tucker the man. When I met him he looked spent. Maybe he had overindulged the night before and Tucker, 33 now, is no spring chicken anymore. This was not the Tucker in the book. I get the feeling he is more serious these days. He wanted to talk about the movie and how good it is, his pride showing, as it should be.

Funny, Tucker's way of greeting me with a smile was this, "It's really nice to see an adult here."

I'm not quite sure how to take that.

It was almost like he was resigned to his plight in life.

Regardless, he still signed my book like this:

Which reads: "Candy, I'm awesome Tucker Max"

Today's Special: Falsies

Have I got your attention?? Yeah, I thought so.




Today I'm talking about Falsies.

But not the kind you think....Sorry Fellas...Peace out, this is your cue to leave if you want to. (but don't say I never gave you anything)

Today I'm taking about these kind of falsies:

False eyelashes. Diamonds and false eyelashes are indeed a girls best friend! Take a look at any celebrity gossip magazine and you will see Hollywood's A-lister's all wearing false eyelashes-and these are not your mother's false eyelashes. The falsies of today are better than ever and easy to apply and use.

Let's start with the basics: ie; the cheap ones.

• Ardell brand or Maybelline. You can find them at any of your local drugstores, Target, Wallgreens or Walmart. Prices range from $3.00-$5.00.

Cheap false eyelashes are just as good if not better (at times) than their pricer competitors. With an array of styles to choose from, a good general rule of thumb is to go with whatever you think will enhance your natural eye lash without leaving you looking like you are wearing false eyelashes. The key word being "enhance"- if you have sparse eyelashes naturally, choose a false eyelash that has enough depth and lash, but not too dense. You don't want to risk being constantly asked, "Are you wearing false eyelashes?" And at $3.00 a piece you can afford to buy more than one style and experiment.

Expensive Brands:

• Mac and Shu Uemura have the best in the business, but I tend to lean towards Mac. There are lots of styles to choose from, each reflecting the users intent and desire. If I were to choose a basic style, I would go with 2 Lash for $12.00. This lash adds length with just the right amount of density and can be trimmed to the users tastes.

Application:

Here is where everybody panics! Fear not, false eyelashes are child's play and if you can apply eyeliner to your eyes, you can apply false eyelashes no problem.

• Complete eye make-up. (except for upper lid eyeliner and mascara)
• Curl your eyelashes with an eyelash curler.
• Remove false lash from the box and lay it on your lash line until you feel comfortable with exactly where it is going to go and how it is going to look. You can trim the false lash with a pair of small eyebrow grooming scissors if they are too long.
• Using a q-tip, apply the lash glue, in a thin layer, across the base of lash. Wait 10-15 seconds, until glue becomes tacky, then using tweezers apply them to base of lid. Let lash dry to set for one minute.
• Apply liquid liner over the base of your eyelash and the false eyelash to conceal any exposed glue and for a more dramatic look. Helpful tip: keep your elbow on the top of the surface you are working on. This will aid in creating a smooth line and will keep your hand steady.
• Apply mascara to your new lashes (both the false eyelashes and yours)-although you shouldn't over do it. A light coat is all that's needed to do the trick.
• Lashes are re-usable (keep the container they came in for storage) and should peel off at the evening's end with ease.

So there you have it! I highly recommend you try them.

You think Kim Kardashian has naturally lush, gorgeous, black lashes?? Maybe, but not that lush. No, you can bet she has a personal make-up artist to apply her lashes for photo ops. And so many others!! Everyone is doing it!

So before you decide to shell out tons of money for those expensive eyelash extentions at your local salon, give these a whirl and come back here and tell me how you did!!

The World According To Jerry Maguire

"That's how you become great man. You hang your balls out there"

Long haired hippie in the copy shop...Jerry Maguire

She calls it a memo, he insists it was only it a mission statement.

Either way, it implications are at the crux of the wisdom that is Jerry Maguire.

I first saw this film on the big screen when it came out and remembered that I loved it. Since then I have seen it numerous times, but just last week, I caught the 1996 movie starring Tom Cruise, Renee Zellweger and Cuba Gooding Jr. for the first time in years and I couldn't stop thinking about it. Because this time was different. This time, it was as if I had seen it for the very first time and it's message was not lost on me. I saw it for it's wisdom.

Tom Cruise plays Jerry Maguire, the "love you too" sports agent with a soul, to perfection as he deals with his internal conflict that results in consequential life lessons along his journey.

"Bob Sugar said I don't know what it's like to be a black person?? I'm Mr. black people!"

"I'm finished, I'm fuc*ed. 24 hours ago, man I was hot! Now I'm a cautionary tale. You see this jacket I'm wearing? You like it? Because I don't really need it because I am cloaked in failure! I lost the number one draft pick the night before the draft! Why? Lets recap-I had two slices of bad pizza, went to bed and grew a conscience."

"Matt, tell me you didn't sign because I'm still kind of moved by your,'my word is stronger than oak thing'."

"You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn, pride swallowing siege that I will never fully tell you about."

A fresh faced unknown in her breakout role, Renee Zellweger stars as Dorothy Boyd his long suffering assistant. A young, widowed, single mother, Dorothy finds herself caught up in the romance of inspiration.

"First class is what's wrong honey. It used to be a better meal. Now it's a better life."

"Look at me Laurel. I am the oldest 26 year old in the world."

"Do you know what other women my age are doing right now? They're out partying in clubs trying to get a man, keep a man. Not me Laurel, I'm trying to raise a man."

And, of course, Cuba Gooding Jr. in his Academy Award winning "show me the money" role as Jerry's only remaining client, Rod Tidwell. Tidwell, an NFL football player whose loyalty to Jerry and the money prove to be the perfect background for his purpose as Jerry's "wildly charismatic" oracle.

"Hell yeah, that's my word. They may have the coin, but they'll never have the Quan. It means love, respect, community and the dollars too. The entire package, the Quan."

"You are hanging on by a very thin thread and I dig that about you." " That's the difference between us. You think we're fighting and I think we're finally talking."

"I feel you dawg, but a real man would not shop-lift the pootie from a single mother."

Throughout this film, bits of wisdom and the realities of life are dolled out to the viewer in generous portions. Jerry is left in his fragile state to sort through the lemons and make cinematic lemonade.

Bob Sugar- Jerry's former mentee and rival sports agent whose ferocious attempts to destroy Jerry's career make him the smug rouge we love to hate.

"I haven't seen you since we were with that stripper in Laguna Beach. Do you remember her name? I do. It was April. That's my job; to remember the names of skanks that you bang on the road. That's what I do. It's not about the money. I do it all for you."

"Are you in or are you out? It's not show friends, it's show business." "I will kill for you. I will maim for you. I will rape and pillage for you."

"This is a nice moment for you. I'm gonnna let you have it."

Avery Bishop- Jerry's insensitive yet beautiful , ex-fiance.

"If you ever want me to be with another woman for you, I would do it. I'm not interested in it. There was a time, yes it felt normal for me, but it was a phase, a college thing, like torn Levis or law school for you."

"You are Jerry MaFU*KINGguire. King of the house calls. Master of the living room."

"Brutal truth, remember. There is a sensitivity thing that some people have. I don't have it. I don't cry at movies. I don't gush over babies. I don't start celebrating Christmas 5 months early and I don't tell the man who just screwed up both our lives, 'oh poor baby'. That's me for better or worse."

Marcy Tidwell-Rod's pregnant, hard-nosed but loving wife.

" If you ask me you haven't gotten emotional enough over this man."

"You'll go back and say what? Please remove your dick from my ass?? I'm sorry, I'm just a little pregnant right now."

"Baby this is you and me. We determine our world. You are a strong, proud, surviving, splendid black man"

Laurel Boyd-Dorothy's divorced, bitter, "disapproving sister"

"Men are just different people when they are hanging on to the bottom wrung."

"Take it easy. Don't cry at the beginning of a date. Just cry at the end, like I do."

To Jerry: "You fu*ck this up and I'll kill you."

Chad-Dorothy's son Ray's jazz loving baby sitter.

"Nanny? I prefer 'childcare technician'."

Jerry: "So you're the Nanny?"

Chad: "Au pair."

"This is Miles Davis and John Coltrane, Stolkholm, 1963. Two masters of freedom playing at a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American art form. Jazz. No barriers, no boundaries."

And Jerry's mentor, the late, great Dicky Fox whose Aristotle-like wisdom, peppered

throughout the film, serve to surmise the theme of this film.

"The key to this business is personal relationships."

"Unless you love everybody, you can't sell anybody."

"I don't have all the answers. In life, I've failed as much as I've succeeded. But I love my wife. I love my life and I wish you my kind of success."

Jerry Maguire learned a hard-fought lesson. You can still achieve success if you remember to believe in yourself, value your integrity and listen to the lessons that love can teach you.

The Great Facebook Debate

I got a text the other night from a friend of mine that I used to work in sports with-back in the day. We reacquainted a couple of summers ago at Fenway, he's a camera man for the local sports network and we picked up right where we'd left off. He's a great guy, funny as hell, married and has teens, so we have a lot in common. Sometimes, during crazy, exciting Sox games-we text back and forth about the games highlights. Sports and history being our common threads. My exchange with CameraMan, as I will call him, started out like this:

CAMERAMAN: you on face book?

ME: no, I'm too old. that would just be creepy. I do have a blog though.

CM: where?

ME: blogspot.com. I post daily.

CM: about what?

ME: *Whatever. today I blogged about Barstool Sports and how I want a job writing for them. Lots of bloggers tell me that are plenty of people my age on it.(facebook) I have a 14 year old on it. I don't think that would be cool.

CM: there are a ton of people our age!!

ME: isn't it a picture sharing site?

CM: nooo so much better than that

ME: What makes it better?

CM: networking. meeting old friends yadda

ME: That's what Ive heard. When did you join?

CM: couple of weeks ago.

At this point CameraMan calls me up. (us old geezers just decide to talk to each other rather than text the conversation any longer) CameraMan tells me that he has talked to a bunch of people he hasn't seen in years, people from high school, the town he grew up in and all kinds of friends of friends he hasn't seen or thought of in years. He said he's really enjoying the networking on Facebook. My immediate response is, "yeah but what about my daughter?" CameraMan tells me his teen step-son is on Facebook and he's cool with it and even checks out his page every now and again and inquires about people in the pictures. He invited me to go check his page out and join as one of his friends.

This now marks the second time in a few weeks that someone has approached me about Facebook. My best friend, who lives in NYC, and I had a discussion almost verbatim about Facebook a week ago. At the time I dismissed the notion, firm in the belief that Facebook was not for me. Hell-I spend/waste waaaaaaay too much of my day as it is on Blogger. Why add another log to the fire???

What's the deal with this Facebook thing?? I will admit I am intrigued at the prospect of seeing who is out there and possibly reaquainting with some ghosts from my past. The fact that my daughter has an account and I always considered it "her thing" prevents me from doing it.

Give me your Facebook wisdom.

EDIT: Scope and I also had the Facebook discussion a week ago-which makes THREE. Are the Facebook Gods trying to tell me something??

*there's that word again!

A Linguistic Lesson

Whatever....The power of that word as a response is never lost on me. It can end a heated discussion in an instant. A quick and dismissive, whatever, seems to say it all without really saying it.

Variations on the pronunciation and almost always spoken with an attitude:

What-eva

Whatevs

Whateverrrr

What. Ev. Er.

What. Ever.

When used as a response, it's intention is undeniable; "I'm done here. No need to waste any more of my valuable time or energy."

As the mother of teens, it's a response I heard repeatedly throughout the day. A top ten favorite of theirs and most children of similar age.

ME:"I asked you two hours ago to clean your room and it's still not clean. What possible excuse could you have for not doing it, other than zoning out on your computer? Huh?"

THEM: "Whatever mom.."

OR

ME: "You have had all weekend to start your History project. Why now, at 7:30 on Sunday night, are you panicking and screaming like a lunatic that you need to finish your work?"

THEM: "Mommmmmuh,...What. Ever."

And it works both ways-always quite effective in cutting right to the heart of the matter.

HER: "Mom, you are being ridiculous. Everyone else is going."

ME: "Oh, well. Whatever."

OR

HIM: "I know that I have four other pair of sneakers, but these are the ones I have wanted for so long mom."

ME: (laughing) "Nice try dude. Whatever."

I find myself using it's power more frequently in my everyday conversation. It also could be considered a "green" word, one we can feel good about using. I like to think of it as being more efficient in these eco-conscious times. By using it, my intention is clear, and I pool my personal energy resources, successfully considering my environmental responsibilities. Less words, less oxygen used, better for environment.

It is also a most effective response when arguing in loosing battle. "Whatever" conveys a succinct stoppage to the matter at hand, allowing the user to admit they are wrong without ever really admitting it.

I recommend you give it a shot. Feel it's power, it's eloquence. Get your point across, or not. Whatever....

My Inaugural Address

Today I am humbled. History will be made on this day and we, as a nation, will witness it-together. The time has come for us to put away our differences and celebrate the dawn of hope in our country. The tides of change will sweep our shores clean.

In honor of today's historic inauguration of our 44th president, I will re-post the letter I posted on this site to Mr. Obama the day after he was elected on Nov 5, 2008.

Barak Obama
White House
Washington, DC USA

Dear Mr. President-Elect,

Hail to the Chief! Congrats to you and yours on a magnificent Presidential win.
Now that it is all behind you, I think you'll probably be sleeping like Santa after Christmas day.

I wanted to be one of the first ones to wish you good luck on the tough road ahead. I know you of all people know that it's not going to be easy. The best part about today, the day after your win, is that there is no more, "your side, my side,"what's left is the hope that we are all on OUR side. I think our country could handle a large dose of that.

There are just a few things I wanted to ask of you. Could you try your best to be a legendary leader? If anybody can do it, you can. Keep us safe from terror domestically and take our troops home so that we don't loose any more of our great men and women. The time has come.

Make us proud. Proud that we have made history in this great country by choosing our first black president, not just for the color of his skin, but for the power of his message. Let your commanding oration be a beacon for all that is possible in this world.
Lead by example and choose your advisers wisely. Never, even once, compromise what is right and good for the sake of being popular. Show the world the resiliency of our powerful nation and help us to get out of this financial mess we are blanketed in.

I don't expect miracles but where you lead I will follow, trusting that you will point us in the right direction.Be a man of integrity. Both home and abroad. Teach us how to be a father and husband, all the while maintaining the most important job in the country.
Most of all, be safe. There are a lot of crazy people out there who are NOT happy you won the election. I will pray for your safety against ignorance.

Thank you in advance for putting your life on the line for us every day you are in office so that we can be inspired.

God bless and godspeed.

Thanks for listening,

Candy

The Stool That Sets The Bar High

File this one under networking for a job.

Back in 2005, I discovered this free publication, on the streets just outside my work, in one of those free newspaper boxes that line most public transportation stops. It's title: Barstool Sports.

It was love at first sight. As has been documented in my first meme on line, I may have been born with an extra Y chromosome, so between you and me, I am really a guy in girly sheep's clothing. I fell in love with this paper.

At the time it was a Boston-based, bi-weekly publication with total T&A and sports stories with a Boston slant throughout. Of course, the T&A was not the draw for me, (except to possibly comment on the model's make-up application or their designer shoes) but it goes with the territory over at "The Stool" and there's no getting around it.

The draw for me was the free style of writing about sports and other oddities of life. I was hooked on the language they used and the "no holds barred" style of prose as well as their look at life and sports. In a nutshell they are rude, offensive, and totally outlandish-I had stumbled upon the Mothership.

Since I began reading this publication, I tried, on two separate occasions to get, what I considered the ultimate job, writing for The Stool. I sent them two separate writing samples, a few years apart. The first was a book recommendation on ESPN's Sports Guy, Bill Simmons (a Boston native and my fave) book, "Now I Can Die In Peace". The book was about how Simmons, a long suffering Red Sox fan, can now go quietly into heaven since he witnessed the Sox win the World Series title in 04. I emailed, what I considered a worthy submission-about 700 words-and never heard back. The kicker here is I submitted my work, under a pseudonym. A male name.

There were no chicks writing sports for The Stool and the only other female writer wrote a non-sports column entitled, "From her perspective". I figured I needed to even the playing field from the start-so to speak.

The second, a few years later, was when my nephew met one of the guys who writes for Barstool and told him about me-he gave my nephew his email and told him to have me submit a writing sample. This time I wrote a funny piece comparing the Red Sox "family" to the Soprano's "family". At the time the Soprano's were in the middle of their legendary last TV season. It was good stuff and timely. Still, nothing.

Today, I am back into my, "get a job at The Stool" mode. Since I became a blogger, late last year-The Stool has seen some changes also. About a year or so ago, I couldn't find my favorite paper anywhere. I searched on line and found that Barstool, along with the printed publication, had a daily blog where they published the now famous "Random Thoughts" for the day. Story has it that our blow-hard Mayor decided that Barstool was one step below free porn and put the printed version out of business. This made Barstool a blog entity.

Every day, when I go to my computer to compose my own blog content, I go to The Stool first, (before my own site) to see what ElPresidente and the boys are blogging about. Barstool is crude and hardcore but never-the-less thought provoking and I want to write for them. I just recently decided to work up enough nerve to start posting comments-under a pseudonym, of course.

Some of the fans of The Stool are tough-and the threads in the comments kept me from joining in the conversation for a long time.

I'll give you a sample and ask you for your advice on the best way to get their attention and a possible consideration for a job-heck I might even do it for free-I said MIGHT.

This is one of this morning's posts on The Stool. I need to warn you that a lot of the photographic content on the blog is NSFW, and this post is no different but El Pres always give you a disclaimer before clicking.

ElPres must be nursing a hangover or something because he didn't permalink this post.

Scroll down to "Naked Madonna Picture Up For Auction". Can you guess which one of the first ten comments is me????

http://www.barstoolsports.com/randomthoughts/2009/01/19/

Now I know what you're thinking. "Why does a nice girl like you want a job with a crazy, funny, inappropriate for women, site like that?'"

I often wonder about this myself.....My only response to that would be that it is entirely possible that maybe I DO have an extra Y chromosome or that my brothers just did a great job in raising me.

My Brief Stint As A Serial Killer

Back in the 80's the Boston Celtics reigned supreme in the NBA. ( kinda like they do today) These were the good old days of Larry Bird, Robert Parish and Kevin McHale. Yeaah, I still wax sentimental when I think of the "Big Green" in those days. At the time, I was a young high school student without much of a social life, so the Celts became my constant companion. Even though a few decades have come and gone since then, I still remember the incident with the clarity as if it happened just yesterday.

It was a Friday night late in the spring of that year. Being the youngest in a family of five without a social calendar to adhere to, I was left alone in the house, as even my parents were out to dinner with friends. The Celts were playing the dreaded Detroit Pistons that night in a battle to sit atop the NBA. The Pistons were the team we loved to hate, with bad boys lining their payroll the likes the NBA has yet to see to this day. We're talking headliners like Bill Laimbeer, Isiah Thomas, and the reprehensable Dennis Rodman. Back in those days, Rodman was at work fine tuning his bad boy image; showing up to events in drag dressed as a bride, wearing black lipstick and make-up, and hanging out with Madonna. The dude was a freak! but he had serious game so the Pistons put up and shut up, as they say. It was always a dog fight when the Celts and the Pistons played, their disdain for each other no secret to any casual observer. Especially when the game took place inside the hallowed, historied walls of the Boston Garden and this night would prove to be no different.

It was a warm evening and our house had no central AC, so I had the windows open in my room which faced the south side of the house, not too far from my neighbor's house while I watched the game. And what a game it was! One of those legendary-once in a lifetime-triple overtime- with one-second-left-basket, to put the game into YET another overtime-game. I was jumping on my bed, going nuts! I remember shouting at the refs, shouting at the players, hootin and hollering and screaming thing like, "take that bitch!" and "die Laimbeer, die!" I am nothing if not a passionate sports fan. After the game was over and the Celts spanked the Pistons like the bitches that they were, I decided to go down to the kitchen to make myself a mini victory feast, a huge smile covering my face.

Our kitchen was accessible from the driveway on the south side of the house, and I had left the front door open, leaving just the unlocked screen door,between myself and the bright, shining light which was now glaring through the screen into my kitchen. As I turned the corner to enter the kitchen, and just before switching on the light, I caught a glimpse of the glare of the un-invited illumination and it stopped me dead in my tracks. Panic paralyzed my body and my at one time victorious smile disappeared as I stood still while the next chain of events happened.

In one fell swoop, the screen door opened and four uniformed police officers descended upon me like a SWAT training exersise in progress. One officer scooped my up into his arms while the other officers, weapons brandished, scattered all over my house.

"Miss, are you alright?" the officer holding me shouted. "Are you hurt?"

Again, paralyzed by fear, I tried to utter some form of a response, but much like I was in the midst of a bad dream, I couldn't get the words out.

"Are you OK?" the officer pleaded again.

"Yeah," was all I could meekly utter, in the confines of the officer's protective grasp.

"What happened here?" the officer asked. "We got a call from the neighbors saying there were loud screams and what seemed like violence going on over here. Are you alone?"

By this time the other three officers were coming back from their search of a completely empty house, replacing their weapons in their holsters.

"Ummm. Yeah, I'm alone," I uttered, my face reddened with fear and embarassment.

"I'm sorry. Everything's fine." I said. "I was just watching the Celtics game."

My face contorted into a meek, sort of coquettish grin as I said that.

Complete silence. For a good five seconds, which seemed like a lifetime because all I remember was the sound of the excessive pounding of my heart .

The sounds of uproarious laughter, which broke the silence, much to my relief, then filled the room and after a few moments, the cops started high fiving me and playfully patting me on the back.

"You'd better go tell your neighbor you are ok. She thought there was a murder taking place over here," a cop said.

"Ohh, this is good. I can't wait to tell the chief this one," another cop said.

"Hey, did they win? HAHAHA!!"

They all seemed to be having a good laugh at my expense. I didn't care. I was just grateful that I wasn't in any kind of trouble. Being 15 at the time, anything that involves the cops and no trouble was always a good thing. They then left my house, warning me to lock the door behind them and go to bed!

The funny thing is that the cops never forgot that night. I spent the next few years known, in my small town as "Celtics Fan" a title I wore proudly. They always cut me and my friends a little more slack at football games and home town events than the other kids. I guess the infamy I gained because of that evening served me well. My neighbor never quite got over it though. For a long while after the incident, she would shutter when she saw me. She probably still thinks I'm some sort of serial killer.

We Interrupt This Program For A Special Report....

Ripped from the headlines of today's news, random information and newsworthy tidbits to keep the information age pumping....

Tina Fey inadvertently puts Wellesley, MA business school on the map.


Tina Fey, when accepting her Golden Globe last Sunday, made some unlikely friends with her public "suck-it" acceptance speech at the world-wide televised event. Fey, who began her speech by saying that no matter how good she may feel about herself, the invention known as the Internet works wonders to keep her humble.
"You can find a lot of people there who don't like you," Fey said. "I'd like to address some of them now. Babson-Lacrosse, you can suck it. DianeFan you can suck it. Cougar-Letter you can really suck it, cause you've been after me all year."
Len Schlessinger, president of the small Wellesley business school, Babson College, posted a video response of gratitude on YouTube yesterday, speaking directly to the Hollywood star. Schlessinger, wearing a Babson Lacrosse t-shirt in the vid says, "Hi Tina. As you know over the last couple of days with your response to your Golden Globe Award, you've managed to put this institution on the map in ways that the academic leadership has been incapable of being able to deliver."


He goes on to invite Fey to the college's commencement ceremonies in May and invites her to get to know "the real Babson that loves Tina Fey". Brilliant, free, PR I say, but somehow I think I already know what Tina's response will be.


Chicago man makes the purchase of a lifetime.



Timothy O'Boyle, a 49-year-old Chicago "pizza guy" seems to have found his "golden ticket" when he purchased a used Chrysler 300c back in February 2008. The luxury sedan's previous owner was none other than President-Elect Barack Obama.
"There was a salesman at the dealership who said,'You'd better hang on to that car'.", O'Boyle said. "I said, 'Why?' And he said, 'Because it belonged to Obama.' I said, 'Get outta here'."
O'Boyle bought the fully-loaded car for $24,ooo.oo and yesterday put the car up for auction on ebay. The staring bid on the future Prez's one-time vehicle was $100,000. The listing for the car predicts that it could sell for as high as $1 million.
Obama, who bought the car in 2004 and drove it until 2007, traded it in to "go green", swapping it for the Ford Escape Hybrid.
O'Boyle says he was "almost too scared to drive the thing" and has kept in in a heated storage unit because he couldn't cover the insurance on the what is the true value of the car. Some people have all the luck.


If Sybil were around today.

"The United States of Tara", Showtime's newest critically acclaimed series, debuts on the cable network Sunday night at 10 pm. Created and written by Academy Award winner Diablo Cody, who also wrote "Juno", executive produced by Steven Spielberg, and starring the super talented Toni Collette, this clever series is being hailed as a "delightfully old-fashioned half-hour family sitcom".
Collette, who plays a 40 something suburban mom who suffers from dissociative identity disorder, or in more common terms, multiple personality disorder. Her personalities range from a typical 40+ super mom, to a hormonally challenged 15 year old, to a "redneck bigot", to a 1950's era June Cleaver stand in. Tara is married to a great guy Max (John Corbett of "Sex and the City" fame) and has two teenagers. The pressures of suburban life cause Tara's personalities to emerge to "clean up the messes" Tara can't handle. Movie critics say that Tara's disorder is not the catalyst for the shows comedy, rather it's the actions and reactions of the "healthy" people around her. Enough said. I'm setting the DVR right now.


Ricardo Montalban dies at the age of 88.


Ricardo Montalban, the smooth-talking, suave star, best known for his portrayal as the white suited, Mr. Roarke on TV's "Fantasy Island" died yesterday morning at his home in Los Angeles. Montalban enjoyed a long career in Hollywood, starring in movies and on Broadway stages since 1946. Most recently, he starred as a villain in the 1980's hit, "Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan" and, "The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad".
Somewhere I think St. Peter may be out of a job, because if Heaven is anything like we imagine, Mr. Montalban will be waiting for us, lie in hand, as we arrive.

Don't Eat Yellow Snow

Inspired by this site this morning while retrieving my morning paper, I present you with random bits of wisdom my mom shared with me as a child and other laws to live by.

-Don't eat yellow snow.

This one seems pretty self-explanatory.

-Don't take any wooden nickles.

Huh? Has anyone actually seen a wooden nickle? Is this like Honest Abe's wooden teeth?And probably from around the same era. I suppose this means beware of the con.

-The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.

Human nature. We always want what we think we can't or don't have. As creatures, humans are never quite satisfied. There's always someone or something we think is much better. It keeps us humble.

-First time, shame on you. Second time, shame on me.

I cannot tell you how many times I have pulled this one out of the basement of my mind. Probably because I should be older and wiser to know better.

-The truth shall set you free.

Words I live by. I HATE liars. I repeat this one to my kids constantly. This is important because without truth to your word, you have nothing. I also suck at lying.

-Winners never quit and quitters never win.

That's right mama! You will never be a loser for trying your best! I love that one.

-A little nonsense now and then is relished by the best of men.

Ok, my mom didn't tell me this one. Gene Wilder in, "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" did but it doesn't make it's wisdom less true.

-Never look a gift horse in the mouth.

I never quite understood the wordage on this but I suppose it means, "shut up and take it!"

-You can accomplish anything in life if you put your mind to it.

I'm still trying mom. Really, I am.

-Every crisis has both it's dangers and it's opportunities.

This is a quote from Dr. Martin Luther King. I am living proof that this is true. I like to think I have the finish line in site.

-The world steps aside for a man who knows where he is going.

Inspiring, doncha think?

-Curiosity killed the cat.

I'm curious to know why?

-Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

What would life be like without breathtaking moments? The birth of my children comes to mind when I think of those moments.

-No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.

I believe Eleanor Roosevelt said that. It really gives credence to the response, "F**k you!"

-It's better to have loved and lost, then to never have loved at all.

I almost completely agree with this. I'll admit that there was a time, a while back, when I believed this to be complete crap.

-Always choose your words carefully. You may have to eat them.

Been there, done that.

Got any words of wisdom you live by? Do share.

Oh, Say It Ain't So...

Are the rumors true??? Is this the end of My Tommy's carefree bachelor days?? Oh, say it ain't so...
It all depends on who you believe. According to People.com, Tommy proposed to Gisele over the weekend with a diamond solitaire . A source close to the couple confirms, "He asked and she accepted".
Ya think??
Then there's my bible, The Boston Herald's Inside Track, who won't believe the second report of an engagement in less than three weeks unless Gi is spotted "sporting bridal bling on her left ring finger". Word has it -get this- “The couple is discussing a huge fashionista event in the spring or a more intimate and quicker ceremony in Costa Rica, where Gisele has a home,” sources said.
Now don't get me wrong, I am happy for My Tommy if he is truly happy. I could care less if he marries Gisele or not. As long as he is suited up for the start of next season, proudly wearing his #12 uniform on the field of Gillette Stadium, in top physical shape, what he does in his spare time is of no concern to me.....I guess. Unless what he does in his spare time becomes a major distraction to the progress of his knee rehabilitation. And "a huge fashionista event" sounds disturbingly distracting. Come to think of it, ever since My Tommy met Gisele things have, shall we say, taken a turn for the worst. I'm sorry to say it Tommy, you know how I love you, but karma's a bitch.


Shall we recap quickly??
Tommy and Bridget Moynahan were in a three year relationship and enjoying the fruits of his three Superbowl championships, when in the fall 2006, the Boston Herald's Inside Track, did a story on Gisele while she was doing some PR work for Victoria Secret at Gillette Stadium during a Patriots game. She is famously quoted as saying to the Inside Track about Tommy:

"Tom Brady, definitely not too shabby. He's pretty cute. All-American, that's a good way to describe him." She denied that she would ever try to steal him away from Bridget, though. She said, "He's cute, but if he has a girlfriend, he's gay to me. There are too many men in the world to go after a man who has a woman. Life is too short."

Funny, because the next month, on December 14th, Tommy and Bridget publicly confirmed the end of their relationship. Then, on January 25th, 2007, Gi was spotted waiting for Tommy outside the Pats locker room at Gillette after a season ending playoff LOSS. Again-there's that karma thing, Tommy.

Then in February, 2007, Bridget dropped the big bombshell that she was indeed pregnant with Tommy's baby. It certianly didn't help the golden boy's image that at the time he was in Europe canoodling with Gisele for the cameras.

Now I concede, this may be all true gossip and garbage, but I really only care about the football facts. Fact is that My Tommy was always known for his superior work ethic when it came to football. It is a well documented fact that he was always the first one to pre-season training daily, honing his body, religiously working himself hard and reaping the benefits. There is a reward for coming to training camp early-the best parking spot in the stadium-which Tommy won easily year after year. His teammates and coaches were constantly quoted in the press, expressing their admiration of Tommy's work ethic and his ability to play and understand the game.

Then karma strikes...and what could have been, or still could be, one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever play the game, hits a string of bad luck in his young career.

This coupled with last season's injury, reports of defection from Pat's doctors, infection to the franchise's knee, a complete NO SHOW on the sidelines of his team's games this season and all of us here at Tommy central are selling off our Tommy stock like we just got some serious inside information.

I don't like. I don't like it at all. I'm not blaming Gisele. My Tommy is a big boy and can make his own decisions. I just question the timing of a big wedding and his commitment to the team and the game. I just want My Old Tommy back, the one who was on the fast track to becoming one of the greatest QB's ever to play the game and I really don't care who he is married to. As long as the three of them, Tommy, his wife and football, can all live happily ever after.

How Badass Is Mickey Rourke?

It's hard to believe that this man was once considered to be one of the sexiest men alive. Back at the height of his cinematic career, in his "9 1/2 Weeks" days in 1986, Mickey Rourke was seen as Hollywood royalty. His breakout film, "Body Heat" (1981), spotlighted his sexy edge in what some dubbed as his, "scene stealing" performance as an arsonist in the film. Experts pondered the possibility of the dawn of the next James Dean or Robert Di Niro and for a brief time Rourke had Hollywood "by the balls". But his bad behavior behind the scenes; he soon became demanding and confrontational, coupled with his self-destructive tendencies (read here: drugs), sent his once rising Hollywood star into a declining tail-spin.

Rourke spent the better part of the last two decades in a handful of menial roles, never quite able to recapture his Hollywood glory. He returned to his roots as a boxer in the early 90's because, he says, "I had to go back to boxing because I was self-destructing. I had no respect for myself being an actor. So I went back to a profession which really humbled me."
Rourke suffered numerous serious facial injuries while in the ring, and a neurologist convinced him, or rather, forced him to retire. His once chiseled, handsome, actor face became horribly changed and his chance at a comeback in film dangled perilously in question.

In 2005 he had a minor career resuscitation in the 2005 movie "Sin City", and today possesses a Golden Globe Award winning performance as a washed-up, retired pro wrestler in "The Wrestler". Hollywood is buzzing about Mickey and Oscar.

I love a great comeback story and after last night, I made "The Wrestler" one of my top, must-see, movie choices. I must admit, I am more than intrigued by the humbling of this dude who has proven to be quite the enigma.

So I ask you today-Is Mickey badass or what?? Take my poll and let me know-and if you have seen "The Wrestler", I give you permission to write a full review (a la thumbs up or down) in the comments section of this post.

Could this at one time washed up, has-been actor bring home the Oscar?? I, for one, can't wait to find out.

A Letter Of Love And Thanks To My Guy

Dear Honey,

I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate everything you have been doing since I have been down and out. I know it hasn't been easy and you have been my rock! This whole injury has made me realize how much I handle on a daily basis and I certainly wouldn't have it any other way, but the fact that you have stepped in and taken over my role temporarily, makes me realize how lucky we, in this house, all are to have you.

So today, I salute you for being the best boyfriend/temporary Mom/caretaker/chauffeur/my kid's crap taker/my crap taker/the dog's crap cleaner up'er/ in the whole world.

This one is just for you and I think it best illustrates what you have been up against. I want you to know that if it can't be me, you are the only one who is MAN enough for the job! and I mean that with utmost respect possible .

I love you. Thanks again and as mom's go you are a rock star!
Love,

Me

xoxoxo

Today's Special: A Birthday Tribute: Top Ten Reasons Why I Think Elvis Is Still Alive and Posing As Dr. Zibbs In The Bloggersphere.

As some of you may already know, today is Zibsy's birthday. A national holiday in the bloggersphere, no doubt, but today is also Elvis Aaron Presley's birthday. As my personal tribute to my blogger friend, I decided to start up the firepit and "roast a Yak!" as they say! This led me to begin thinking about the possibility of The King still being alive and well and living in West Chester, PA.

Here are my Top Ten Reasons why this is entirely possible:

10. Dr Zibbs' blog is anonymous. Surely Elvis couldn't reveal himself to to be alive to his millions of adoring fans. Heck, he staged his death on the toilet of Graceland and everything. Who else but Zibsy could come up with that sort of "bathroom humor" brilliance spin to put on his death??

9. Ever true to his roots-Zibsy gives us a clue to his real persona in the title of his award winning blog, "That Blue Yak". He chose something blue and fuzzy and made it iconic as opposed to his alter ego's "Blue Suede Shoes" which he grew tired of people stepping on.

8. *Elvis would have been 74 today which seems about right. Some of Zibsy's jokes are about that old.

7. It is a well documented fact that Elvis' favorite food was fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Since his "staged" death, technology has improved greatly and TV and the internet have become a haven for foodies to flock to. I imagine Dr. Zibbs spends his days happily trolling the internet and watching TV, looking for obscure recipes for his house girl Eva to whip up for him.

6. Where else would Elvis go into hiding but into the city where cheesesteak reigns supreme? Wasn't there a supposed Elvis siting recently at the Westtown Butcher Shop and Deli in Chester County??

5. Elvis is worth more dead than alive. Upon his "staged" death in 1977 he was said to have close to 5 million in the bank. In 2004, 27 years after his death, Forbes Magazine listed him as the richest deceased person, his empire totaling $45 million. How else do you think his alter ego, Dr. Zibbs, can afford to sponsor "Blogger Pillow Fights" at the Marriot in PA.

4. Nana Zibbs is a dead ringer for Elvis' beloved mother Gladys Presley. In the bloggershpere, Zibbs keeps Gladys' memory alive through Nana.

3. Elvis and/or Zibbs still have the mojo with the ladies to get PYT'S (pretty young things) to send them naked pictures of themselves and their panites and finger condoms and all kinds of stuff. PIMPS in every sense of the word. That's riiight.

2. Both known as simply "The King". Elvis will always be "The King of Rock and Roll" while Dr. Zibbs enjoys the undisputed title of "The King of the Bloggersphere".

And the Number One Reason Why I Think Elvis Is Still Alive And Posing As Dr. Zibbs In The Bloggersphere:

1. In the bloggersphere there will never be a need to make the announcement, "Dr. Zibbs has left the building......"

Happy Birthday Zibsy! Have yourself as many peanut butter and banana sandwiches as you want!

*Zibsy-you know this was all done with love..Your jokes are really funny. I was just kidding.

The Bad Girls Club

Since I am stuck home convalescing, TV has become my best friend. Yesterday I caught a marathon on the Oxygen Network of the reality show, "The Bad Girls Club". Hee hee, this show sucks HARD, but I LOVE IT!! This is the most perfect, mindless, ridiculous garbage I think I have ever seen on TV. Perfect for the horizontal state I am stuck in. The show is described on the web site as:

Bad just got good on Oxygen with the third season of the hit reality series from the producers of The Real World. This season takes bad behavior to the next level with a cast of young women who are independent, spirited, and endlessly entertaining.
Bad Girls Club brings seven self-proclaimed "bad girls" together in a beautiful Los Angeles mansion, and drama reigns supreme. All the girls, ranging in age from 21 to 25, have a unique story, point of view and attitude -- as well as some kind of personal issue that makes them far from perfect. Will living together help them move forward and turn their lives around -- or will chaos rule?

Did I hear that right?? THIRD SEASON? Damn, what kind of Bad Girl's antics have I been missing?

The common denominator with these girls is big attitude, and the producers are betting on it. The whole point of the show is to throw these "bad girls" together and see what happens. They fight with each other (and any one else who looks thier way), name call, get naked, strip (in a strip club), have sex, get drunk, puke, pull hair and throw big, dangerous things at each other.

One of the seven girls, Whitney, is from Boston, a fact that she is most proud of. (can't say that I blame her) The producers, or should I say producaaah's, I'm sure, chose Whitney for her command of the regional vernacular. I literally cringe every time she utters a sentence in her "pissa" Boston accent. (we don't really sound like that- well, maybe if I were stuck in a room full of Whitney's-but I doubt it)

Check out this fight Whitney and Kayla have. These bi*ches mean bizness!

http://o2.oxygen.com/player/?id=885501

The show airs on Tuesday nights at 10 pm on the Oxygen Network. They have a website and their own blogs!! HA! As if being young, hot and despicable gave you your 15 minutes of fame. Oh wait, for these seven, it did!

Gotta go now...I recorded last night's NEW episode. Tiffany-the "sort of house" leader declares war on Kayla. This should be good!

Part 2: Ring My Bell

Sorry. I now realize that yesterday's post may have been a bit alarming and that was not my intention. (posting with my iphone in the ER was not the easiest) I really thought I would be back home after a few hours and able to post an update right away. This was not the case. As they told me at the hospital, I got my bell rung pretty hard. I ended up spending six and a half hours in an ER that was so over crowded that I was left outside in my bed in the hallway (like an old lady in the nursing home) I want that six hours back! Overall, I can't complain though, because I was very lucky.

This happened yesterday morning at 6:30 am. I woke my kids for school then went down the kitchen to let the dogs out and to get the morning paper. I took ONE step outside, to go down the four cement stairs to the newspaper, and went down the stairs I did. Just not the way I normally would. Overnight, a deadly coat of black ice had covered the ground outside. I don't remember much, because it happened so fast, but I hit the ground and smashed the back of my head on the fourth cement stair in about a second and a half. I could not move for a good 7 or 8 seconds. My body was literally paralyzed by the jolt to my brain. After I regained movement, I crawled back up the stairs, into the house and screamed for my kids. They were all I could think of and I was alone with them-My Guy was in Florida. My son came running and found his mom crying at the bottom of the stairs. He got me some ice for my head and sat next to me while I contemplated my next move.

Normally, I drive them to school and knew that I probably shouldn't do that considering my extremities were still tingling and I probably had a concussion. I made a few calls to find someone to pick them up for school but my attempts were unsuccessful. I had no choice, I had to call 911. I figured at most, I could get checked out and maybe they could give my kids a ride to school. My poor babies, they were so worried, but I was assured them that I couldn't be that bad if I was reminding them to brush their hair and teeth before leaving. With my kids safely on their way to school, I let the paramedics talk me into a trip to the hospital.

(do I win an award here for posting the most unflattering photo of my self in the ambulance?? Someone tell that Grant Miller Media Guy!!)

I am OK today, but SORE as hell! The back of my head and my back are friggin killing me. I broke no bones or ribs-thank god-and have a few minor scrapes and bruises. I have a concussion, which explains my constant dizzyness,unless I am lying down. They gave me a script for Percoset, but I am afraid to take it. Isn't that the stuff that people get addicted to?? No thanks, I'll tough it out with Advil and take my chances. I don't do well with narcotics. I don't like the dizzy feeling and am hoping it will go away soon. The docs say dizzyness is a result of the concussion and should go away in two or three days.

Thank you so much for your well wishes and concern. I swear I wasn't trying to solicit your sympathy or worry you. Super Woman really thought she was going to be ok and back in business after a few hours. The funniest thing was when the paramedic, who was a very cool guy, said to me in the ambulance, "Did you just take a picture of yourself?"

The things we do for our blogger buddies.

"911, What's Your Emergency" Part 1. I had to make that call this morning. I fell on the ice and banged my head. Right now I am in the ER. I'm ok.

Honesty Is Such A Lonely Word.

I got this baby from Lisa at The Butterfly Farmer. Not a huge fan of meme's myself, I considered blowing this off for all of 3 seconds, before deciding that in the spirit of the New Year and fresh starts (and because I like Lisa :), I will take part in this HONEST game and fulfill what has been asked of me. I also liked the way Lisa tagged us by saying, " these are some people I wouldn't mind knowing some more honest stuff about".

So, Let's start with the rules:"The honorees are to: a) first list 10 honest things about yourself - and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep! B) pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spirit of the Honest Scrap."

Instead of passing this on to 7 bloggers, I think all of my fellow bloggers embody the spirit of the honest scrap, so I implore any of you to feel free to take this and run with it!!

Who said this was gonna be easy? Here goes:

1. When I was a kid in third grade, I hated my teacher, Mrs. Reeves, so much that I used to fantasize about running away during class and running all the way home. I almost got my wish because on the second-to-last day of school, she grabbed me by the arm so hard that I ended up kicking her in the leg to break free from her grip, and then ran like a maniac out of the school and up the street. I didn't make it far. Our Principal, Miss Hadelski, who everyone thought was meaner than Mrs. Reeves, drove up behind me in her car and brought me back to school. At the time I was so scared! Scared out of my mind! This was the most HORROR I had ever faced in my young life and my behavior could be construed as that of a wild, out of control child. I think I was acting out of pure instinct to survive. Much to my surprise, Miss Hadelski was very nice to me and understanding and I didn't get into any trouble. What's interesting is that they NEVER called my mom. And mean old Mrs. Reeves spent the next day, the last day of school, taking me out in the hallway, trying to bully me into telling my mom. (you'd think she would have called my mom herself... hmmm) I told her I would tell my mom. I told her anything to get her off my back, but I never told my mom. I walked around for years with so much guilt and worry that my mother would find out until I was old enough to realize that I had been the victim of abuse. I think I still hate Mrs. Reeves.

2. I like liverwurst. Really, I do. And I especially like it with onions.

3. I cry at every and any sappy, sentimental, silly moment possible. It's a curse really, and I SUCK at trying to conceal it. I was watching the Brady Bunch with my kids the other day and I got all choked up over the episode when Jan decides she wants to be an only child...I am such a loser.

4. When I see a woman wearing a wedding ring, my thumb instinctively rubs over the vacant area on my ring finger where my wedding ring used to be. This always happens to me and I often wonder what it is about that specific symbol of marriage that makes me react that way. Could it be because my ex broke into my home and stole ALL of my jewelry, including my wedding ring? (oooh, did I say that out loud?? I'm sorry, the police have not confirmed that) Not that I would have ever worn it again. My first reaction after the theft was, "Good. It all held bad karma anyway." But now, three years later, I'm still pissed off.

5. I have great teeth. And for some reason they are naturally super white. I went to go have them bleached last year and they laughed at me, telling me the result would not be any different considering my teeth already matched their whitest result. But I insisted, and they gladly took my $400.00 . I walked out of the office an hour later with neon white/blue teeth. They were TOO white and I was embarrassed to smile for a few days. Chalk that up to an expensive lesson.

6. I am a pocketbook FREAK! The more expensive the better. The problem is that once I get the bag I desire, I am already on the hunt for my next victim. And once I'm done with a bag I rarely, if ever, use it again. My Guy kids me all the time about selling my cast offs on EBAY and financing a trip around the world with the proceeds. HA!

7. I am a very good golfer. I could be a great golfer if I played more. I figure I'll save that for when I slip into my golden years. Then I'll be able to kick all my fellow silver-haired doll's asses with pleasure.

8. Now that my kids are both teens, I let them swear. A little. You know, I let the occasional "shit" and "ass" slide. My fourteen year old has even dropped an f-bomb in front of me. I try not to let that one go-unless it is absolutely necessary-in context.

9. I am SUPER touchy feely. My poor Guy!! I am constantly pawing him and kissing him and my kids too! But I have recently realized, much to my delight, that I don't do it because I seek their acceptance. I do it because it's so much a part of who I am, that I need to express that physical love in order to be the best me possible. It's more about me than it is about them. (funny-when I'm not all over them-they immediately wonder if I am OK)

10. I don't pretend to have all the answers, or be "holier than thou", nor do I consider myself to be damaged goods just because I am divorced. I think I am a splendid example of a strong, surviving woman who is lucky enough to have risen from the ashes, better from the experience to tell the story. And tell the story I will.

Happy 2009!!