Drive-Bys

I'm a 100% stickler. That's what they pay me the big bucks for. This is also why I'll never be any good at text-messaging. Sigh.

How about you?

(A tip of the cap to 42% stickler Jennifer!)
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Okay, sometimes it's NOT Jay's fault:

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Viscountess Leslie the Larger of Dramble Buzzcock Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Today Harvey is the culprit!
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Bus Fumes

I dearly love a good smackdown:

Dear Internet Ida: How can I say this nicely? Your husband is a yellow-bellied, mealy-mouthed, chicken-livered girlie-man. The first time his potty-mouthed, bottom-feeding, ape-imitating, slop-bucket pal sent you dirty jokes, your husband should have immediately told him to cut it out, or else. I sure hope your husband has some redeeming qualities. Because chivalry ain't one of them.

Go Cheryl!
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Drive-Bys

Blast Jay and his love of Blogthings! It's really all his fault:

Your Element Is Earth

You excel at planning and strategizing. You could be a champ at chess or Survivor. Well grounded, you are able to be realistic and rationalize. On the inside, you have a hard core. It's tough to phase you. You are super productive, and you are able to think anything through. Focused and super charged, your instincts are a good guide for your next step.

What's Your Element?

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They're like potato chips:

You Are Bold And Brave

But daring? Not usually. You tend to like to make calculated risks. So while you may not be base jumping any time soon... You are up for whatever's new and (a little) exciting!

How Daring Are You?

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No one can do just one...

You Are A Romantic Realist

You tend to be grounded when it comes to romance. Sure, you can fall hard... but only for someone you've gotten to know. And once you're in love, you can be a total romantic goofball... But you'd never admit it to your friends!

Are You Romantic or Realistic?

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Sheesh! No one's here in the office, but the work is still coming out my ears. More later -- I promise!
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In The Body Shop...

... for a new paint job.

Keep your eyes peeled.

Suzie of Bluebird Blogs will be working her magic some time today!
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Tootin' the Horn

Best...

Christmas...


Ever!

If yours was even half as blessed as mine, Christmas 2006 was memorable beyond measure.
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(Another weird coincidence -- that picture above the couch? I have that print, too.)
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I have so much to be thankful for!
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Drive-Bys

What Color is Your Brain?

BLUE:

At work or in school: I like to be with people, sharing with them, inspiring them, and helping them. I work and learn best when I can take into consideration people and the human element. I flourish in an atmosphere of cooperation.
With friends: I always look for perfect love. I am very romantic, and I enjoy doing thoughtful things for others. I am affectionate, supportive and a good listener.
With family: I like to be happy and loving. I am very sensitive to rejection from my family and to family conflicts. I really like to be well thought of and need frequent reassurance. I love intimate talks and warm feelings.
Take this quiz!








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(Shamelessly swiped from Lady Gunn.)
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Busman's Holiday

A quick shout-out to Ellison and Chai-Rista to say thanks for keeping the engine warm for me!

Yesterday I had a magical day in Barbados. First, I got to snorkle and swim with sea turtles, one of which was almost four feet long. They are awkward on land, but elegant and breath-takingly beautiful in the water. I was having such a wonderful time that they practically had to haul me out of the water by the back of my life vest to get us to the next location on time.

Next, we headed off to an area with protected reefs for more snorkling. It was like falling into a cloud of fish. Incredibly peaceful, floating in all that beauty with no sound but the beating of my heart and even breathing.

That was followed by the most delicious rum punch ever, swilled in waters just off the beach. Decadent! I sure would like to go back for a visit, and take friends and family with me.

Finally, more emails from my Most Precious Child. It has been especially wonderful to be able to share them with the Princess Mom. If all continues to go well, it looks like we will be meeting over the Christmas holidays. I can assure you that there is a God, and he is blessing me daily.
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Tell It To The Judge

Hello. Elisson here. With Leslie traveling and being unable to post regularly (face it: she has More Important Stuff going on in her life right now), she has demonstrated the Questionable Wisdom of allowing me to drive the Omnibus.

Silly girl.

But I’ll try not to daub too much excrement on the walls and windows as we drive along. Here’s a True Story for you...

It was the summer of 2004, and She Who Must Be Obeyed, the Mistress of Sarcasm, and I were returning from a week-long road trip to the Northeast. A few days to attend my 30th college reunion; a few days to visit with Eli (his ownself) and Mrs. Eli; a few days in Cambridge with Elder Daughter.

After a full day of driving from Boston, we had stopped for the night somewhere on the southern marches of Richmond. At the Butt-Crack of Dawn, we hightailed it out of there, headed south on I-95, intending to stop for breakfast after we had gotten a few miles under our belts. Sure enough, as inevitably as the sun rising in the East, the cabin of our sedan gradually filled with the lusty sounds of borborygmus.

That’s a 50¢ word meaning “Gut Rumbles.” The sound an empty - and moderately pissed-off - stomach makes.

SWMBO, our trusty driver, was easily persuaded to stop for breakfast. This we did at a Crapper Barrel near the Virginia-North Carolina border.

I’m sure many of my Esteemed Readers are familiar with the Crapper Barrel. Not only can you get your all-day breakfast, your meat ’n’ three, your countrified chicken ’n’ dumplin’s there - you can also load up on Old Time Radio CD’s (superannuated content meets modern technology!), old-fashioned regional sweetmeats, Christmas gewgaws ’n’ gimcracks, and jes’ plain ol’ Crappola. And you can drive yourself batshit playing that stupid-ass game with those fricking golf tees and the triangular piece of wood. Yeah, you know the one I’m talking about. The one where you keep playing until your food is cold and your brains have turned to pudding because you Just Can’t Freaking Figure Out How To Leave Fewer Than Eight Tees.

There we sat, waiting for our stacks of hotcakes and bowls of steaming hot grits to arrive. I was into my 37th round of the Stupid-Ass Tee Game; SWMBO and the Mistress were having a conversation; and I began to feel as though eyes were boring into the side of my head.

They were - and they belonged to Ol’ Banjo Eyes. Eddie Cantor!

For hanging there on the wall next to our table, placed there for purely decorative purposes, was an ancient Parker Brothers game board, with Eddie’s demented grin front and center.


Tell It To The Judge. [Click to embiggen.]

The game? Tell It To The Judge, a board game in which one would attempt to navigate one’s car from the garage to the Club without suffering humiliating breakdowns or being arrested for trivial moving violations.

Tell It To The Judge was around for years, but eventually it disappeared from the Gaming Tables of America. That jaunty 1930’s Art Deco design and jazz-age theme were not enough to save it.

As soon as I saw that board, I knew I had to find one of those games. When we arrived home that evening, I began scouring eBay. Within a few weeks, I had a near-mint condition game, complete with playing pieces, cards, and Play Money.

Let’s take a look at that money. It’s almost like Bizarro World Monopoly Money, with Eddie Cantor’s exophthalmic grin (so reminiscent of the grinning mascot of George C. Tilyou’s Steeplechase Park in Coney Island) shining forth from the center of each bill.


Eddie Money.

Every so often, I like to imagine a world in which Tell It To The Judge turned out to be the smashing success amongst its brother Parker Brothers games, rather than the greed-soaked Monopoly. It would be a world in which Ventnor Avenue and Park Place would be mere footnotes on the pages of history, not cultural-geographical icons. It would be a world in which the demented leer of Eddie Cantor, Ol’ Banjo Eyes, would be as familiar to the average American McDonald’s burger-eater as Old Mr. Moneybags is today, and in which the Pursuit of Mazuma would take second place to Evading Motorcycle Cops as the Great American Board-Game.

I think I would like such a world.

[Cross-posted at Blog d’Elisson. Tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to Ivan, whose recent post at Thrilling Days of Yesteryear got me thinking about Mr. Cantor.]

Busman's Holiday

This might just qualify as the most hilarious holiday ever with the Princess Mom.

Yesterday, we arrived late in Curacao, due to high winds during our first two days (at sea). After having experienced moderate temperatures and high winds for a couple of days, we were delighted to find it warm and sunny in Curacao... until... the clouds burned off and the sun started beating down relentlessly. It was upwards of 100 degrees and 90+ percent humidity. This, of course, in the middle of the tackiest shopping district we've run into yet.

By the time we got back to the ship, we were overheated and pooped. Still, the Princess Mom has been on a mission to see every available show on board, so we cleaned ourselves up, put on the glitz and the glam, and headed down to dinner.

In the middle of the appetizers, the captain came over the intercom to announce that one of the ship's generators had gone out of service, and that we would not be pulling out of port until it was repaired. What he didn't mention was that it was the generator that powers the onboard air conditioning.

Dinner soon got to be an uncomfortable affair, as the fuller the dining room became, the higher the temperature rose. All the ladies were glowing, in the most southern belle sense of the word.

Still, the Princess Mom insisted she wanted to see "Le Magnifique," so off we went to stake out seats early. The theater was even more closely packed than the restaurant, and by the time the show was over, we were
"glowing" like Three Mile Island.

By that time, we were too tired and wrung out to even think about whooping it up, so we headed back to our cabin with its tiny veranda. Halfway down the hallway I looked at Mom and teasingly said, "Let's go get naked and sit on the balcony."

Her reply? "I don't know about naked, but I'll do it in my undies."

Yup. Me and the Princess Mom in nuttin' but our skivvies, full makeup and all our bling, sitting in the starlight and laughing like hyenas.

Frightening.
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Spamalot Review

I saw Spamalot last weekend in Charlotte, NC. In our Bus Driver's absence, I'll share with you some of the highlights.

There aren't any big name actors in the traveling show, but it didn't matter. The whole musical comedy is so over-the-top in sets, costumes and the excellent talent of the relative unknown actors, that I never missed the fact that Tim Curry and David Hyde Pierce weren't there.

Favorite scenes from the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail are re-created, with a twist. The ends of the scenes are changed so that they fit into a new story that tells how Arthur recruited his band of knights and then how they scattered in the effort to "find your Grail" as the recurring theme song encourages.

Camelot is portrayed as Las Vegas. "What happens in Camelot stays in Camelot." There are plenty of Vegas-style dance numbers and leggy girls in costumes Hugh Hefner would approve. Getting there is more than half the trip. Therefore, it won't take anything away from your enjoyment for me to reveal that in the process of finding his Grail, Lancelot comes out of the closet and Robin discovers his love of musical theater. It is very, very funny.

When you go, sit as close to the stage as possible. We were on bottled oxygen in the back of the balcony, and I think something is lost when you can't clearly see the actor's faces. This stage production is as outrageous as a French trebuchet loaded with a wooden rabbit. If you already love Monty Python, by all means GO. If you've never heard of them, Spamalot is a silly place with strong language that may not be your cup of tea.

--Chai-rista

Tootin' the Ship's Horn

Just a quick update to let you know that we're talking via email. This is a good thing.

Keep those prayers coming, please. They've been immensely comforting.
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Doing the Happy Dance On Top of My Desk

Update: I sent an email to the Sunny Ridge lady, just to let her know I'd try and get ahold of her tomorrow. Lucky for me, she was wide awake and checking emails.

I just got an email back with a PDF of the letter from her. And a photo.

Oh.

My.

God.

She's smart, she's sweet, and she's heart-breakingly beautiful.

I am never going to sleep tonight.
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Speed Bumps Ahead

Only yours truly could turn getting incredibly good news into a comedy of errors.

You see, Thursday night, I overturned the gi-normous bag which I use to carry just about everything I own (it's a big honking purse, and I've threatened to buy a doll house sized kitchen sink for it just so I could say I carry that, too) and apparently missed my cell phone when I was shovelling stuff back in. It was dark. What can I say?

I didn't notice it was missing until I was packing up my stuff to leave after working late last night. I figured it was at home on the charger... although I couldn't recall when I might have done that.

Nope. No phone on the charger. Unloaded huge honking purse. Still not there. Restuffed huge honking purse. Not in the kitchen. Not in the bedroom. Not in the coat pockets. Not in the bathroom. Not in the laundry hamper.

Ooooooh! This was not good. Not good at all. You see... I don't have a land line. Haven't had one for years, and, up until today, I haven't wanted or needed one. (Yes, I'm rethinking this decision.)

And, of course, I had a list of things to do before catching a taxi to O'Hare for a 6:30 a.m. flight tomorrow. I had to go get a set of keys cut for my cat sitter this morning. Several small but vital last minute odds and ends to pick up. I also had 50 skillion loads of laundry to do.

Of course, one of my neighbors got to the laundry room first. Argh!!!!

I met with the cat sitter and got that straightened away.

I checked on the laundry room. Rats.

I started wrapping stocking stuffers for the Princess Mom. (Yes, we're doing stockings on shipboard. I admit it -- the two of us are like little kids about this stuff.)

Back downstairs with a load of laundry in tow. Hallelujah! The washer was free.

My afternoon and evening was a marathon of wrapping and schlepping stuff up and down three flights of stairs.

Finally, I was able to head back downtown to the office to finish up some stuff that simply must be done by Monday a.m. (I know, I know -- only an idiot shows up at the office at 9:00 p.m. on a Saturday.) First thing on my to do list? Call the last place I could remember handling my cell phone. Bingo!

Back out of the office, down the street and past the train station. Yay!!!! The phone was there... but, of course, the battery was dead.

Back to the office and dig out my extra charger.

Finally, I got the phone turned on, and waded through 20 voicemail messages. There's a letter waiting for me at Sunny Ridge.

It's 10:43 p.m. on Saturday night, I'm at the office and will be here for several more hours. I have a 6:30 a.m. flight tomorrow.

I've waited 26 years. 10 more days, though, might just kill me. Thank goodness I'll be with the Princess Mom, who provides countless distractions and endless blogfodder.

I'll call the Sunny Ridge lady from the airport tomorrow, and ask that she send the letter to my home.

It's the first time ever that I wanted a vacation to be over before it ever began.
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For all of you who have left me kind words, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. This is truly a terrifying time. I imagine that anyone who's ever been in my shoes fears, deep down, that they'll never measure up to expectations. Your words have given me a lot of comfort.
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I'm kind of sensitive about being called a mother. I'm not her mother. I'm her birth mother.

The woman who kissed her boo-boos, changed her diapers, helped her with her homework, taught her how to fix her hair and do her makeup and much, much more is her real mother. I will not ever do anything to take that away from her. I'm grateful to her every single day.

I'm just hoping for...

Wow. 26 years down the road, and I still can't wrap my arms around what I'm hoping for.

See what I mean about terrifying?
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Tootin' the Horn

There's a 6 odd things about me meme that's been running around the blogosphere lately. I've never done one before, but I have good reason to now:

1. I am a birth mother. Until right now, only a handful of trusted friends and family had any idea.

2. My mom got a call from this place today.

3. They've left me a phone number, and apparently it's good news.

4. They left it on my cell phone... which, of course, like a doofus, I left at home today.

5. I am terrified.

6. I am elated.
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Busman's Holiday

If I make it out of the office before midnight tonight without collapsing, I'll soon be on my way from this...

... and this...

... to THIS!


I'll be back on the 21st. In the meantime, I'm tossing a couple of sets of keys to the Omnibus to a couple of (mis)trusted, but thoroughly amusing friends.

I'm hoping someone will take the darned thing for a spin in my absence!
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Holy Smokes!

--------------------
Shooting at site of Metra station
--------------------

Tribune staff report

December 8, 2006, 4:00 PM CST

Ogilvie Transportation Center is being evacuated this afternoon while officials investigate a shooting inside the building, Chicago police said.

Police said at least one person was shot at 500 W. Madison St., but that person's condition is not known.

Around 3:40 p.m., one man could be seen being taken out of the building on a stretcher.

Emergency crews were responding to reports of multiple people shot, CLTV reported.

The address houses the Metra station and the Citibank Group Center.

The building is shut down and trains are not running.

There were dozens of police cars in front of the building along with two fire trucks.

People were seen hurrying down the escalators and running from the 37-story skyscraper on the west side of the Loop.

Many commuters who'd planned to board trains at Ogilvie were milling around in the cold, trying to figure out how they would get home.

Keegan Greene, who works at Verizon Wireless on the first floor was helping a customer when fire alarms began going off.

"One of the security guards came up to us and started saying, "Run, run, run, run, run!" Green said.

He said he saw someone on a stretcher on the first floor as he exited and saw two stretchers being brought out of the building.

The Associated Press contributed.
Copyright (c) 2006, Chicago Tribune
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This is my train station. Looks like I won't be going home in a big ol' hurry tonight! Yikes!
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Tootin' the Horn

Happy 29th birthday to Genny -- a styling babe for sure!
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Bus Fumes

Yes, I'm all for the death penalty in this case. In fact, let's stuff her into the very same microwave that she used on her own baby.

Waste not, want not. In fact, it's the best form of recycling I can think of.
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Drive-Bys

While I have a very good excuse (I'll be gone from the 10th to the 20th of this month), sometimes we all need a little help coming up with a good excuse. Click the image. You'll thank me for this.

(A tip of the cap to Jennifer!)
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Drive-Bys

In light of yesterday's Post Heading of the Day, that crazy Nancy V. figgered I might get a charge of of this. In fact, most of it squicked me out... until I got to this:

You, too, can make your very own tampon blow gun with matching bandolier. While I'd like to say "the mind boggles," in this case, I could actually visualize one or two of these babies turning up at any blogmeet wherever a Jawja Blown-Eyed Blodger happens to appear.
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"A zombielicious little wine..."

Hmmm... I'll have to order a bottle of this for my buddy you-know-who.
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Quote of the Day comes from Your Crazy Uncle's Rules for the ER:

"31) Please don't bring in a "show and tell." If you have to fish it out of the toilet, it's really not necessary to bring it in. We will take your word for it. If you did fish something out of the toilet.....you may NOT use my pen."

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You know, maybe there's a cure for Eric's famous fear of zombies: give him something even worse to be afraid of. Like psychic lampreys. Now there's an image that'll scare the bejeepers out of you!
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The End of the Line

I told you the Apocalypse was coming!

Really, though, it's and happy ending and a new beginning. If you're already reading my BlogDaddy, update your links here. (And if you're not reading his stuff, you should be!)
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Rubber-Necking

Post Heading of the Day:

"Tampons: Satan's Little Cotton Fingers"

I laughed myself silly. But I'm not so sure this guy will see the humor in it. Then again...
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Pssst! Don't tell Eric, but there are Zombie Chickens on the loose. Zoicks!
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Bus Fumes

Here's another great example of fine parenting. Seems to me that the mother and the grandmother could have put a stop to this by simply removing temptation from a kid who has no impulse control and over whom they obviously have no influence. But, noooooooooooo. Let's get the police involved.

Here's another good question: if the gift tag had the kid's name on it and it was in plain sight, isn't it technically his? How can this be theft? Yes, it's crappy behavior... but theft? C'mon. It's just lazy parenting.
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Drive-Bys

Since I've never been a Seinfeld fan, I'm really not sure how I feel about this one:

Which Seinfeld character are you?

You're Jerry!
Take this quiz!








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(A tip of the cap to Robin.)
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You can blame this one on Samantha Burns:

What does your driving style say about your sexual habits?? Taxi Driver You stay on the road, always use your turning signals, and talk sweetly to your car when it starts to act up. You're more than likely toting around children throughout your day, or at least playing taxi to a few friends. Maybe it's time you spent more time on yourself! In the bedroom, you focus so much on your partner, you forget the best sex is meant for two! Other obligations are often running through your head while in the bedroom. Don't be afraid to shut out your daily obligations to really enjoy yourself. I bet you're a really devote person, and your partner loves that about you.

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

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Wow! Weird quizzes are popping up all over the place today. This one is courtesy of the Desert Cat:







Note: At the first screen, click on "Extras", then on "What's Your Seduction Style?"
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The End of the Line

Little Piper has gone over the Rainbow Bridge.

Please go send condolences to Laurence Simon and his lovely wife Gina.

Damn. I hate news like this.
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From the Rowdies in the Back of the Bus

From the Sweetheart of Shell Knob, MO (a natural blonde herself):

A blonde goes to the post office to buy stamps for her Christmas cards. She says to the clerk, "May I have 50 Christmas stamps?"

The clerk says, "What denomination?"

The blonde says, "Lord help us. Has it come to this? Give me 6 Catholic, 12 Presbyterian, 10 Lutheran and 22 Baptists."
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She also sends this bit of Texas humor:

(Anyone who has ever dressed a child will love this one!)

Did you hear about the Texas teacher who was helping one of her kindergarten students put on his cowboy boots? He asked for help and she could see why.

Even with her pulling and him pushing, the little boots still didn't want to go on. By the time they got the second boot on, she had worked up a sweat.

She almost cried when the little boy said, "Teacher, they're on the wrong feet."

She looked, and sure enough, they were. It wasn't any easier pulling the boots off than it was putting them on.

She managed to keep her cool as together they worked to get the boots back on, this time on the right feet.

He then announced, "These aren't my boots."

She bit her tongue rather than get right in his face and scream, "Why didn't you say so?", like she wanted to. Once again, she struggled to help him pull the ill-fitting boots off his little feet.

No sooner had they gotten the boots off when he said, "They're my brother's boots. My Mom made me wear 'em."

Now she didn't know if she should laugh or cry. But, she mustered up what grace and courage she had left to wrestle the boots on his feet again.

Helping him into his coat, she asked, "Now, where are your mittens?"

He said, "I stuffed 'em in the toes of my boots."

She will be eligible for parole in three years.
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Also this giggle of a nursing story:

A nurse walks into a bank. Preparing to write a check, she pulls a rectal thermometer out of her purse and tries to write with it.

She looks at the flabbergasted teller and without missing a beat says,

"Well, that's great..........that's really great..........

Some asshole's got my pen."
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Drive-Bys

Yep. Things at work have got me a bit, erm......., tied up at the moment.
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Bus Fumes

The first snowfall of the season and conjunctivitis occurred simultaneously today. Who else could be so lucky?
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