On The Road Again

It's a the kick off to a lovely July 4th weekend, and I'm off and running! It's our traditional July 4th family fun get together on good old Cape Cod and I'm outta here later today. I will be returning to the bloggesphere on Tuesday, July 5th.

I'm looking forward to some BBQ, sun, fun and some good old relaxation and it couldn't have come at a better time. I want to wish a happy one year anniversary to two of my favorite bloggers who met on these here internets, fell in love and got hitched a year ago this weekend.
Cora and Scope! True love is ever so wonderful that way.

So have the very best holiday weekend bloggers! And make some serious fireworks....

The Mold Incident

So a family member is eating a sandwich the other day and notices a small, green spot on the bread of the sandwich.

Just one spot, not at all like the one pictured above. Ballistic is how I would categorize the reaction that took place. Gagging and spitting and screaming ensued.

My reaction? I laughed.

My family member didn't find the situation funny at all and began searching the Internet for proof that they had not just ingested a lethal poison.

"They make penicillin out of mold," I giggled. Again, the family member reiterated that my reaction was one of cruelty.

Seems mold is not lethal to ingest in small amounts. It's probably not advised and can sometimes cause stomach aches, but a little green dot on a piece of bread isn't going to kill anyone. Or is it? This got me to thinking.

Penicillium is more often than not the green mold that appears on store bought bread. Research says it isn't great because it risks killing off the good flora in your body and leaving the bad ones, but a small amount isn't going to make a difference one way or the other. Unless you are allergic to penicillin, which could kill you from anaphylactic shock.

We survived the great mold incident. Thank God no one got sick or went into shock, but somehow it turned out to be my fault. How could I let this happen?

Really?

My answer was simple.

When was the last time any of you bought a loaf of bread?...Silence.

Yeah, that's just what I thought.

Blogging On The Run

A lawyer married a woman who had previously divorced ten husbands.

On their wedding night, she told her new husband, "Please be gentle, I'm still a virgin."

"What?" said the puzzled groom.

"How can that be if you've been married ten times?"

"Well, Husband #1 was a sales representative: he kept telling me how great it was going to be.

Husband #2 was in software services: he was never really sure how it was supposed to function, but he said he'd look into it and get back to me.

Husband #3 was from field services: he said everything checked out diagnostically but he just couldn't get the system up.

Husband #4 was in telemarketing: even though he knew he had the order, he didn't know when he would be able to deliver.

Husband #5 was an engineer: he understood the basic process but wanted three years to research, implement, and design a new state-of-the-art method.

Husband #6 was from finance and administration: he thought he knew how, but he wasn't sure whether it was his job or not.

Husband #7 was in marketing: although he had a nice product, he was never sure how to position it.

Husband #8 was a psychologist: all he ever did was talk about it.

Husband #9 was a gynecologist: all he did was look at it.

Husband #10 was a stamp collector: all he ever did was... God! I miss him! But now that I've married you, I'm really excited!"

"Good," said the new husband, "but, why?"

"You're a lawyer. This time I know I'm gonna get screwed!"

The Sleepers

When Frick and Frack were babies, they were good sleepers. Well, Frick was better than Frack and now that I think of it, Frack was not a great sleeper at all. Never napped and had a hard time going down at night. But he's certainly making up for it now.

When they were little, 6am was not uncommon for them to rise and face the day with a cute, peppy smile on their precious little faces. Now that they are teens, they have transformed themselves into what we refer to as, "The Sleepers". Making up for lost time, most days.

And dang, if sleeping were an academic, my kids would be National Honor Society sleepers. The funny thing is that no matter what time they go to bed; early, late, whatever, they never seem to be able to rise earlier than 10 am. All of my research on this topic confirms the fact that teens need more sleep, but my goodness, if I didn't wake them who knows when they would rise? Noon? 1PM? And the day is shot to hell by then, according to me.

So this being the first full week of no school, I figured I'd give them a break. You know, let them sleep in before the summer schedule really kicks in, and they have been shattering the all time sleep records around here. Frack is a golfer, and a pretty good "waker upper", but lately it is getting harder and harder to get him to move out of his bed in the morning. Especially when he has an early tee time in some far off locale that I need to take him to. At the tender age of 15, he is a grumpy mizzer the entire ride there. Oh what a joy for me!!

And Frick? Oh the drama! All she wants lately is a "break" from her grueling school schedule, and I agree, a break is due, but she's got a job and her own wheels and yes you have to get up and go to work. I can't write you a note because you slept in today. The gas does not magically flow from a private, free gas pump. Alarm clock you say? Both have em but why use it when mom is much better at getting us up at least 10 times every morning?

I know this is a phase, and they are no different from any other teens, but for the love of God, can someone please get their own sh*t together and get the hell up when they are supposed to? I don't know how much more of this I can take. It's like sleepy hollow around here.

How many more days till school starts again?

Friday Funny

It's Freaky Friday Bloggers! Time for some fun.!!

So my BFF sent me this and I thought it was just hilarious.

Manbabies.com posts digitally altered shots of man's and babies and not much else. Viewers of the site can vote for their favorites and/or comment on the pictures. Some of them are great and some are not so great, but overall it's a guaranteed good chuckle when you peruse the site.



According to the Manbabies.com guidelines:

•The picture MUST have both a man and a baby. Man + baby = ManBaby. Get it?

•The picture should be at least 400 pixels on it’s largest side

•It would help if you named your ManBaby picture with your full name.

•For pictures submitted to be done, we need most of the face of both the man and baby to be unobscured, although we can work some magic on it.

•Nothing in a distasteful nature, please. (I guess this counts most of us out)



Is it just me or is there is just something so wrong about this picture that it seems almost right? Too bad I'm a week late on this because it would have made a great Father's Day gift for that new dad in your life. Bad jokes and creepy pedophiles thoughts aside, I think it's a cute play on creative photography.

Happy weekend Bloggers! and let the little kid in you shine.

WOW!

They caught him.

I can hardly believe it. The FBI arrested their number one Most Wanted criminal (now that Bin Laden is dead) last night in Santa Monica California. I can hardly believe it.

James "Whitey" Bulger, the notorious leader of the Boston's most deadly crime family, the Winter Hill Gang, who went on the lamb 16 years ago, finally trapped like the rat that he was. And you want to know how they found him? They put on a media blitz with ads airing on daytime TV during shows like The View, Regis and Kelly and Rachel Ray, and they posted pics of his longtime girlfriend Catherine Greig.

Unbelievable. I'm sure they had some inside info that lead them to put the pressure on because most people who live here truly believed that the FBI had given their golden RAT, a free pass to slip away into oblivion. In case you aren't familiar with the wolds most notorious criminal, I'll give you a small tutorial. Whitey and Steve "The Rifleman" Flemmi ruled Boston's underworld for decades, with an iron fist. They made the Italians look like amateurs because they owned them. They were deadly and ruthless because they could be and they killed and destroyed everything in their path.

They were untouchable because they had the FBI and John "Zip" Connley on their payroll and their rule was unlike any other. It was that same corrupt FBI handler, Zip Connley, who 16 years ago tipped Bulger off as to his impending indictment, resulting in him going on the lamb with his girlfriend. All the other's in the gang were caught, indicted and jailed and have been for the better part of those 16 years Whitey spent traveling the world. The old gang has no love loss for the old 'boss', who would sell his own brother for a winning lottery ticket.

Responsible for at least 19 murders that the Fed's know about, and endless years of corruption and racketeering, Whitey was arrested in an apartment complex last night, without incident. It all seemed so easy. Too easy. The last confirmed sighting of Whitey was in 2002 in London and since then, he has been a picture on the wall of the post offices of the world, right next to Osama. After Bin Laden's death earlier this year, they upped his bounty from one million to two million, then last week the announcement that the media blitz had begun. That extra million from Osama's head sure came in handy.

This whole fascinating story will now play out on TV and I will be riveted. Truth be told, Whitey was such a deadly killer that I have been afraid to write about him here, especially with him still out on the lamb and all. You never know who is out there watching. I think the coast is clear now, and maybe someday soon, I'll share with you my personal reason's for the fascination. It's one hell of a story. But for now, I'm going to watch this play out.

They caught Whitey Bulger.

I can hardly believe it.

The Holy Shoe Grail

This is NOT a post about the Stanley Cup Champion Boston Bruins. No, this post is about the SHOES pictured here. Just look at them! They are so stunning, so eye catching, that I really don't even see Milan Lucic in all his Stanley Cup glory. Sorry sports fans. It's just that those shoes, they are spectacular.

The Holy Grail...of shoes, that is.

The obsession started back in February when I spotted Beyonce, court side at the NBA All Star game wearing the shoes. I immediately snapped a pic and sent it to my BFF and my shoe partner in crime. We just about died. Then she sent me the picture of Lucic and his girl a few days ago.

And I can't get them out of my head.

That shoe is the Christian Louboutin Daffodil 160 in Strass, and the price is almost $7,000.00.

WHAT?

7 grand for a shoe?? Yes, 7 grand for that shoe and it is the master work of Mr. Christian Louboutin. It's heel stands at 160 mm, which converts to 6.3 inches and that's just fricken crazee. I must admit, I am so taken by this shoe that if I had money to burn, like Ms. Beyonce, who rocks them in the second photo, I would not hesitate to add them to my collection.

I might even commit a crime to own those puppies. Just sayin. The problem here is I'm not sure I could walk in them.

But I'd die trying. And with a smile on my face.

Ode To Mother

"I'll always love my mama. She's my favorite girl." The Intruders.

Mom, you're the one.
The only one, or the one and only; depending on what day it is.

You're my best friend and my biggest fan.
And my toughest critic.

You're my center, my soul mate and the most influential element in my life.
From you, I learn all.

I may not agree with you all the time, but I don't have to. You taught me to respect what I believe in.

You may not know this but I strive to be like you. Even more as an adult.
You leadership strong and unwavering.I would never be who I am, without you.

You're the first person I need when times get tough, and you always know just what to say...whether I like it or not.

Being with you is like being home, safe and warm.

I love to laugh with you and I love your mind. Hanging out with you makes any day complete.
God damn it though, mom! Do you always have to be right?

Most of all I just love you. My mom, my friend.

And I want to wish you the happiest of day's on what should be considered the National Holiday that it is. Your birthday.

Happy Birthday mom. I love you.

The Mother Of All Fathers

So this was Friday's intended post, but I had to leave my house at 5:30 AM which ruined all my best laid plans. So, the day after Father's Day, here is The Daily Dandy Father's Day Tribute to what I consider to be the Mother of all Dad's.

Dale Price from California, took saying good bye to his son on the school bus every morning quite seriously. When his 16 year old son, Rain's bus route changed for the school year, sending his bus right by his house, Dale came outside to wave good bye. On the second day, Rain's dad decided to don a San Diego Chargers helmet to wave good bye and on the third day he wore an Anakin Skywalker helmet.

It was then that Dale made the decision to dress up in costume every day, rain or shine, to wave goodbye to his son. In all, Dale wore 170 costumes, for every day of the school year, and employed the rule of never wearing the same costume twice. Rain's peers certainly never let him live it down and word of the costumed man spread fast. Relatives and neighbors started a blog to chronicle every day.

Dale describes the comittment as a "way of letting Rain know that we really care about him", but Rain's not interested in thanking his dad for his efforts. "I'm not going to reward him for this. His reward is seeing my embarrassment."

Lord Stanley's Cup

Holy Lord! We did it!

We brought home the Cup. In all of hockey, there is nothing more coveted or career distinguishing than winning the Stanley Cup. Come to think of it, in all of sports, hockey stands alone in it being all about the trophy; the hardware.

As a Boston sports fan, I have been part of a region that has blessed with a cornucopia of Championships. In the last decade we have now seen every one of our professional teams take home the hardware at least once. In football, it's all about winning a bowl that is Super. Baseball, a series for the World. Basketball, a championship and a banner, but hockey is all about the Stanley Cup.

Proud and relieved, passionate Boston sports fans can all die happy now that the modern day Boston Bruins have brought us a Stanley Cup. And the hockey town rises again.

Our father who art in Boston. Hockey be thy name.
Thy will be done. The cup will be won. On ice, as well as in the stands.
Give us this day our hockey sticks. And forgive us our penalties, as we forgive those who cross-check against us.
Lead us not into elimination. But deliver us to victory.
In the name of the fans, Lord Stanley, and in the name of da Bruins.
Amen!!

The Puck Stops Here

"Great moments are born from great opportunity.
And that's what you have here tonight, boys.
That's what you've earned here, tonight.
One game
If we played 'em ten times, they might win nine.
But not this game. Not tonight.
Tonight, we skate with 'em
Tonight, we stay with 'em, and we shut them down because we can!
Tonight, we are the greatest hockey team in the world.
You were born to be hockey players -- every one of ya.
And you were meant to be here tonight.
This is your time.
Their time -- is done. It's over.
I'm sick and tired of hearin' about what a great hockey team the Canucks have.
Screw 'em!
This is your time!!
Now go out there and take it!"
The late, great Herb Brooks to his USA hockey team before beating the Soviets.


Bring home Lord Stanley tonite.

Mean Old Mrs. Reeves

I had this third grade teacher who was just plain old mean. I'll never forget the bitch because I think my eight year old self might have taught her a lesson.

She was the kind of teacher that yelled...a lot. We were petrified of her and if she was nice to you, you strove to keep things that way. Nobody wanted to be on Mrs. Reeves' bad side. She was teaching us our multiplication times tables and she would shout out randomly, "Candy, what is 5 times 6?" She gave you all of two seconds and if you didn't know the answer in a mili-second she would ask someone else. I swear, I still can't call those multiplication times tables to mind quickly because I was traumatized by her back then.

Well, the end of school came and it was the second to last day of school. We had field day, when all the classes competed against each other for ribbons in stuff like the egg toss and tug of war. I think it rained on our field day, because it was in the school gym. We were in a single line, passing by the library for our treat, a big m&m cookie, when I tripped over my untied shoe lace and skinned my knee.

Mrs. Reeves, being the bitch that she was, yelled at me and sent me to the nurse for a band-aid and told me in an exasperated manner that she would get my cookie and put it on my desk. Off I went to the nurse who gave me some TLC and a band-aid and I was sent on my way. When I returned to the classroom, everyone was laughing and sharing in a celebration with punch and cookies. There was no cookie on my desk. So I went up to Mrs. Reeves and quietly asked her if she had gotten me a cookie.

For whatever reason this set her off, and she hailed a barrage of screaming at me that literally caused wind burn on my face. I was mortified, embarrassed and pissed off at this injustice. And I was fed up with her. She told me to go sit at my desk and as I walked over to my chair, instead of sitting, I slammed the chair as hard as I could into the desk and I took off!!

Eight years old and I was free!!! Free of that rotten bitch Mrs. Reeves and free out the door of the school. I was going home. I wasn't going to take her abuse for one more second. I think I might have been laughing as I ran up the street towards home, but I felt good knowing that I had taken a stand against mean old Mrs. Reeves.

I kept going, triumphant in my quest to get home, until I saw our school Principal's car pull up beside me. Now if you think Mrs. Reeves was a bitch, then Ms. Hadelski was Osama Bin Laden and I knew I was screwed. Panicked, I began to run faster but she caught up to me, except she wasn't mean at all. In fact, she was nice. She told me that we needed to talk and that she would love to give me a ride back to school.

So I went with her, all the while, talking. She was calm and clear and not at all threatening. But I was ready for her and old Reeves, fists clenched. When we got back to school, I sat in her office while, get this, Hadelski got me a cookie and some punch. She never called my mom and I got into no trouble. She told me I didn't have to go back into my classroom if I didn't want to and I didn't want to.

When school was over, I went home on the school bus and awaited my punishment because by now I figured my mom had been called. But she never said a word. How could this be? My mom never brought it up and neither did I. I went reluctantly back to school, the last day and Reeves was waiting for me when I got there like a predator waiting for her prey. She took me out into the corridor and began yelling at me about how dangerous my behavior was, blah, blah blah. She asked me if I had told my mother about what happened, and I was silent. I think I was paralyzed with fear because I couldn't speak, but what that bitch did next was unforgivable.

She grabbed me by the arm, hard, and began demanding that I answer her. All I could feel was pain in my arm from where she was squeezing me, and instinctively I kicked her as hard as I could in the shin, multiple times, until she released my arm. At this time other teachers in other classrooms came out to see what the commotion was in the hallway and there we were, standing with heaving breath and red faces looking at each other.

Reeves went back into the classroom and so did I. She never came near me again, and the rest of the day went peacefully. I was kind of a celebrity with the boys and I enjoyed a pleasant last day of school. I thought for sure I would be in trouble when I got home, but my mom never said a word about it. They never told her.

Looking back, I think I know why. Reeves was an abusive teacher and she had been a problem throughout the year, and not just with me. I think I was the only one to stand up to her, me in all my eight year old bravado. I never saw Mrs. Reeves again, but I will never forget her.

I'm sure some where in the depths of her mind she will never forget me either. I took a stand against her abuse and she messed with the wrong kid.

Of that, I am certain.

Good Friends Are Chicken Soup With Red Wine

So I spent Friday night with some of my girl friends from high school. It was a great time, just hanging out, laughing and talking. The weather was not very cooperative, but we still managed to pull of some summer fun.

We had our best friend, red wine, along with us and before we knew it the wine and fun made us late for dinner. So late, in fact, we missed it all together. Who would have thought that a tourist community closed their kitchens at 10 pm? But with the help of our trusty iphone's we managed to find a pizza place that delivered. It was some of the best pizza I ever ate.

The thing about good friends is that they know you better than you remember. They have memories of things that you don't and they never let you forget how you were back then. They share in your triumphs and they worry about the same things. We talked a lot about our kids, and it was refreshing to know that they go through the same things that we all do.

Before I knew it, our time had ended and it was back to reality. We had managed to sneak in some bonding time, but the memories linger on into today. I wanted more. I needed more, but I am content in the knowledge that they will always be a phone call or a text message away.

That's the thing about chicken soup. You may not know at the time how much you need that valued home remedy.

All Things B's And Glee's

So today is a mash up of two of my favorite things. B's and Glee's!

A Daily Dandy shout out to our boys in black and gold, as they travel to Vancouver for Game 5 of the Stanley Cup Championship. Let's take it home tonite boys and we will be waiting with open arms on Monday.

And for all you Gleek's out there, this was just too precious not to share: Check it out!

I LOVE HIM!!! How cuuuute! Rumor has it his grandma made him the Warbler suit!

Happy Friday Bloggers! May all your Teenage Dreams come true.

Today's Special: My Lusty List

Summer is finally here and I wanted to share with you the top five fashion faves that I am lusting after for the season.

1. Old Navy Striped T's: Nothing says Summer better like a bright, new boldly colored t-shirt or tank top to pair with shorts. This Old Navy top comes in several vivid colors and make looking fresh a breeze! The best part? It's $5.99!! At that price we can all afford to pick up more than a few of our favorite summer colors. Looking good means feeling good!

2. ANY and ALL things Jeffrey Campbell: These honkin', kick ass wedges are unbelievably fresh! If Louboutin is the King of the stiletto, then Jeffrey Campbell is the Duke of the wedge. There is nothing sexier or stylish than a pair of these babies. I actually own the pair pictured above, and they are my most favorite shoe. I just recently added two new pairs to my personal collection. They are always at the center of attention and the topic of shoe conversations when I wear them. Affordable in most shoe-loving circles, a pair of Campbell's will run you anywhere from $150.00 to $300.-ish. Check it out here: Jeffrey Campbell

3. Fringe!!!: Fringe bags are HOT! and there are a million styles and colors and prices to choose from. From luxe to bargain prices, some have a lot of fringe, some have a little fringe, so find your personal fringe barometer and rock this look. It helps if your pair your fringe with some RIDICULOUSLY large sunglasses. Jus' saying.

4. RIDICULOUSLY Large Hoop Earrings: Speaking of RIDICULOUSLY large, I am STILL on the hunt for the perfect pair of over sized hoops. Kim K and JLo made the look famous and I have yet to find my big hoop soul mate. I want to wear them with my hair pulled back for maximum effect and pair them with pretty, natural make-up and glossy nude lips. Haaay!

5. Cute, White Shorts: Aren't these the cutest??? Unfortunately for me, these are more for Frick than mom. But that's OK. At my age I can still rock a pair of white shorts, just not a pair of maxi-shorts. Give me a little more length on a pair of white shorts, a pair of honkin Jeffrey Campbell wedges, a fresh tank and a knee length neutral sweater vest. Aye mami!!

So there you have it. My lusty list! Now I gotta go to work to pay for it all!

Happy shopping bloggers!

No Sh*t?

So I'm having a conversation yesterday with a woman about dogs. The conversation inevitably lead to dog droppings in the yard, which in my house, are lovingly referred to as "land mines". She told me about a service that will actually come to your house to pick up your dog poop.

What? Really?

I have 3 dogs and I don't know about this? A company from Quincy, MA called, DoodyCalls has been "keeping Massachusetts clean since 2003".

No sh*t.

DoodyCalls offers it's pooper scooper services to most of Massachusetts and they take pride in scooping that poop. These guys are serious. A quick check on their website assures clients that they will receive the most thorough poop removal services with a 100% Satisfaction Guarantee.

I wonder if they will they pay for my new Manolo Blahnik stilettos if I step in dog poop after they leave?

This is great, I think! DoodyCalls provides affordable services from friendly, uniformed "technician's" who drive branded DoodyCalls trucks. All scooping tools are disinfected between pooper scoopings so animal parasites and disease will not spread and DoodyCall will customize your waste removal services for weekly calls or monthly maintenance plans.

Wow, I never knew poop was big business. I think for a minute about the possibility of this for my yard and then I remember. While a "professional" pooper scooper service, for the owner of 3 dogs and a nice yard, is tempting, I already have 2 DoodyCalls technicians that live in this house. Yeah, and those technitians will be out of school sooner rather than later.

Maybe I will do some research of what the going rate is to scoop some poop and how much to pay per "land mine". Then the kitchen table negotiations can begin. This deal could provide fruitful for all parties involved. I'm beginning to like this idea more and more.

The tough part is going to be convincing them to do it. If money does not motivate them, I don't know what will.

They may think the whole idea just stinks.

Awakening The Sleeping Giant

Now I know that most of you out there could give a good rat's a** about Stanley Cup hockey today. But over here in Championship City, we are still in it to win it. We've been watching, hopeful that our Bruins could pull of a miracle. Careful and strategic hockey is what has been played but now it's looking like our boys aren't going away without a fight and that's just what we needed.

Hanging on by our teeth is what the Bruins were doing in these final days of NHL hockey, and we have been watching, ever faithful, ever hopeful. We've been cheering the boys on and watching some good, but not great hockey being played. Low scoring games and games played right down to the wire is how this series has been playing out. Our boys on the loosing end of those paint drying hockey match ups.

Then early in the first period last night, Canuck Aaron Rome layed down a dirty and dangerous hit on fan fave Nathan Horton. It was an unforgettable moment. A moment that made every hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. We, at home, knew immediately he was down for good. It was surreal. They, the medical personnel knew it too, because they came out with a stretcher immediately. This was no ordinary hit. Horton was whisked away to the hospital.

It was then that something changed. In all of us who were there in mind and body. The sleeping giant was awakened. Passion and power were all they needed to secure a commanding win and being at home didn't hurt either. The Bruins let loose on a team that didn't see it coming. Just like the hit on Norton. An 8-1 blowout was the result and this time we were on the winning end of things.

Professional sports can be a dangerous occupation, but the show must go on and go on it did. The rest is history. While I'm not sure that the dominance displayed last night will continue throughout the rest of the series, I am sure that the Bruins needed to know that they were capable of that power against the team with the best regular season record. Momentum has pendulated (is that a word?) our way and we need to take the next one. Then it's a fair fight, on even playing fields.

The giant has awakened. The question remains if he can bring home the cup.

Spring Fever

I got it bad.

It's that fever that makes you want to run outside and play in the grass like you were a kid. When the weather is good and the temperatures get hot, the fever is quick to follow. All of a sudden I don't want to go to work, I don't want to cook, I just want to get outside and enjoy the day.

My kids have it too. They are SO done with school. Books and pencils, at this point, been beaten to death and boys and girls and summer fun is all they can concentrate on. But finals are fast approaching.

I can't say I blame them as I myself am having a hard time concentrating. And the experts believe it too. Some say that after a winter of near-hibernation (not really) your body stops producing high levels of melatonin, which govern your sleep-wake cycles. Longer periods of daylight cause the body to produce less melatonin and more serotonin which elevates your mood.

Try explaining that to a bunch of "all done with school" teens. I bet none of you feel much like blogging these days. Not when the beach is calling.

Either way, there's still work to be done and none of us feel like doing it.

We got the fever.

I Used To Be A Brunette...

Here's a Friday Funny for you:

There was a brunette walking on a railroad track saying, " 22, 22, 22, 22..."

A blonde walking near-by heard the brunette. So, the blonde asked if she could join the brunette.

The brunette said sure and together they said, " 22, 22, 22, 22.."

Later on a train comes down the track. The brunette jumps off, but the blonde is not so lucky.

So, the brunette jumps back on the track after the train is gone and says, "23, 23, 23, 23..."

Hee hee...Happy Weekend Bloggers!

You're Not In Kansas Anymore

So we had a tornado hit Massachusetts yesterday. In fact we has more than one tornado hit Massachusetts yesterday. It was some wild stuff, I gotta tell you. This is how it went down for me:

5 PM: I'm at the store and I get a call from my mom. She's worried and telling me to get home, as they just issued a tornado warning for our county until 7pm. I am scheduled to meet a friend for dinner, so I, of course, pooh pooh her pleas, laugh, and think to myself that it would never happen here.

6 PM: By now everybody in the store is talking about the tornado warnings and watching the TV news. Western MA has been hit by these fast moving storms causing severe damage. I call my friend and tell her that I'm going to go home and wait till 7, because they are also reporting that traffic is at a standstill. I tell her I would wait to see what happens and that I would stay in touch.

6:30 PM: The news stations are showing all weather reports with heavy rains and wind and hail moving close to our area. They are also reporting that there is more than one area that has been hit with funnel cloud tornado's. In all 19 communities have been affected and at least one death has been confirmed.

7 PM: Nothing has happened where I am so I decide to go meet my friend, to which My Guy says, "Are you nuts?" I, again, laugh and decide to think for a minute whether or not I should risk it. The TV news reporters are talking about emergency preparedness, going into the basement or the lowest level of the home, turning up the TV and staying there. The Emergency Broadcast System is popping into the telecast about every five minutes with that annoying beep, notifying us that in the event of an emergency....blah, blah, blah.

7:15 PM: I decide to cancel, to which my friend laughs, but it's no big deal. We re-schedule. (in hindsight, we would have been FINE)

7:30 PM: We are transfixed on the TV because now they are showing live shots of some incredible devastation in the Springfield area. It looks not too different from some tornado pictures of Missouri last week. What the? This is New England. Stuff like this never happens here. I thought it only happened in other parts of the country.

7:40 PM: Gov Duval Patrick comes on TV declaring that MA is in a state of emergency, and that Springfield has been devastated by tornados. A reporter ask him about whether or not this is the worst weather the state has ever seen, to which he replies, "Well, it's not over yet. These storms are still strong and the threat is still very real."

8 PM: I switch to the Bruins game. I got my priorities, ya know. But during the commercials, we were flipping back to the news. One of the huge storms is headed in our direction. We figured if we were in danger the Emergency Broadcast System would keep us posted, but we have one eye on the game and one on the news.

8:50: The dogs are going berserk, the light show outside my window is amazing coupled with some nasty, banging thunder. I see rain beginning to hit my window in a way that is not ordinary.

9 PM: Full blown wind and hard rain are now pelting my home. We are still in Bruins mode, but the outdoor events are hard to ignore. We are now watching both the storm and the game.

9:30 PM: We see blue, flashing lights go by the house and turn onto the street where my parents live, then go right into their driveway. Red lights then follow up the street, as a fire truck then pulls into my parents driveway. Their phone goes right to voicemail. My Guy gets a call that my parents alarm went off at their house, so we waste about a nano-second getting into the car to go check it out. It's still whipping rain and wind.

9:31 PM: My dad opens the door to his house, laughing. (thank God) Their house was hit by lightening and it set off the alarm. My mom said it was so loud that it scared the Bejesus out of her. They are fine. We check the house, like the fire department asked us to, for any smell of smoke or smoldering. Check. They are all set.

9:50 PM: The rain, lightening and thunder have stopped. It's over. We were lucky. Just some wild wind and rain and save from a few branches scattered around we got nothing.

4 confirmed deaths in the aftermath of the storms. The photos from Springfield are unbelievable. Unbelievable because tornados don't happen here.

It was some wild stuff, I gotta tell you.

You Are What You Eat

A genetically engineered mutant like creature?

So we were chit chatting over at the hen house yesterday and someone told this story. Seems a fast food company, who shall remain nameless, but goes by three letters-one of them being the letter C for chicken, has been called out on the Internet for not using real chicken in it's product being sold to consumers. What is it, you ask? It is the stuff of Internet legends.

It has been said that this company had to change it's long time name to the heretofore three letters because it does not use real chickens. The claim is that it uses "genetically manipulated organisms" to complete their menu items. It goes on to say that these organisms are kept alive in laboratories by a tube inserted into them to pump what they need to sustain some form of life. It also claims to know that these "organisms" also have no feet, no beaks and no feathers. This, the claim says, is why the government made the company changed it's name to the letters. There is no chicken according to this claim.

A Google search into this issue produced all sorts of interesting fodder on this topic, for both fact and fiction. What was consistent throughout is that this company has issued strong DENIALS that this Internet legend is true.

This website seems to have done their own investigation into the matter and actually had the meat tested. Their findings? The meat was NOT chicken and evidence of "genetic splicing" were detected.

What the hell does that mean?

One thing I know for sure. I very rarely eat fast food, but if I do, I will think twice before ordering a salad that's probably made from genetically engineered heads of lettuce. My biggest fear is for my children. Frack has a taste for any and all things fast food, as most 15 year old boys do, I need to give him the information and help him to make a decision on the matter.

And if I'm having chicken, I'm going to my local butcher shop.