Three is a Magic Number

Amusing things from my cell phone

Mmmm... tastes like wild animals! Now with more seal!

This is a print hanging in my doctor’s office. I didn’t want anyone to see me taking a picture of it, so I nonchalantly stood and looked out the window, then pretended to be looking at messages on my phone while I held it up and took the picture. I don’t think I fooled anybody. It’s called “The Difficult Case.” I don’t know if you can tell, but Jesus is pointing to something in a medical reference book. Oh, Jesus. Why weren’t You there to tell my doctor whether I had any ovarian cysts? Why did I have to have an ultrasound instead?

Jesus's hair is receding a bit on the sides, just like J. And David Letterman.

This one was in an air & space museum. I think it was on some kind of bomb or rocket. I don’t know, it always makes me think “Adios, motherfuckers!” I mean, that’s a good thing to write on a bomb, don’t you think?

And this just amused me because you don’t normally see so many Bright! Yellow! cars in one spot. Let alone surrounding mine. What can I say; I’m easily amused.

Meet the pumps...

I love these shoes. Pink! Huge honkin' flower! They're so completely over the top! But my favorite is the fact that they're named Charlene. I love that. I love shoe style names. I want to buy these shoes just so I can introduce them to people. "Hello, I'm Tracy, and this is my festive women's mule, Charlene."

BTW, the shoes I'm wearing now are named Viva. Not nearly as festive as Charlene (and not even as festive as the ones pictured here, since my are brown leather and not orange! suede), but I sure do love them.

(Oh, and I will totally pronounce it with a hard "ch," not like "Sharlene," but like Charlene Darling from The Andy Griffith Show. Or like in Scooby Doo and the Monster of Mexico, since that's more likely to be my cultural reference nowadays.)

An open letter or two... or three... or four...

To: The People Who Run the Polly Pockets Website

My daughter printed this from the official Polly Pockets website. You call it a "coloring page." I call it a "fetish page." Does the world really need to see Polly Pockets in a latex catsuit? More importantly, does your average Polly Pockets customer really need to see this? I'm not a prude, but seriously, folks, this is just wrong.

Also, the fact that this instantly makes me think of Michelle Pfeiffer kind of shows my age, doesn't it?

And to the people who will inevitably find this by Googling "Polly Pockets fetish latex catsuit?" You are a bunch of sick little monkeys.

To: The Greater Valley (AL) Area Chamber of Commerce

I read that you're having a Giant Crappy Yardsale this weekend. I can't begin to tell you how much I love that name. Giant! Crappy! Yardsale! Could I generate some interest in a garage sale if I called it a Small Crappy Garage Sale? Probably not.

To: The Guy in the Black Lexus With the Jesus Fish

First, I'm pretty sure Jesus is against tailgating. Second, did you notice that even though you passed me really quickly once you got the chance, and sped on down the road just to show me who was boss, that we ended up at the stoplight at the same time? Did it amuse you as much as it amused me? No?

To: The Angry Guy in the Red Honda

Did you see the people behind you pointing and laughing? Were you afraid we were pointing and laughing at you? Well, we were. Because right before that other driver pissed you off (inspiring a temper tantrum the likes of which I've never seen by someone actually old enough to drive a car, complete with fist-waving), you rudely and stupidly cut us off. I've never seen karma work so quickly.

To: The Parents Who Let Their Daughter Dress Like That

Okay, it's none of my business. I realize that. But I just don't think letting your pre-teen or young teen daughter wear teeny tiny tight bright pink shorts with writing across the back is a good idea. Unless you really did intend for her to convey the message "Hey! All you people at the grade school carnival! Take a look at my ass!" If that was your goal, congratulations on a job well done. Perhaps she'll have some boobs next year, so you can encourage her to draw attention to those as well.

To: My Darling Daughter

I love you more than life itself. But the next time you tell me the shoes are "comfy" when you try them on in the store, and two wearings later they "hurt your feet," you're going to find yourself going to school with your feet wrapped in duct tape in lieu of shoes. Understand?

To: The Various People I Noticed Staring at my Feet Last Weekend

Yes, I am wearing big plastic pink shoes that make me look like a cartoon character. Jealous?

To My New Car:

Don't worry, baby. I don't care that it takes $50 to fill your tank. I still love you. Smooches.

To My Beloved Husband, Who Crawled Out of Bed to go to Walgreens and Get Me Some Badly Needed Sinus Medicine:

Thank you. I love you.

In which several wishes are granted

I've had several long-term desires fulfilled lately. Get your mind out of the gutter... they were all material things. Cause we are living in a material world and I am a material girl.

First and foremost is the new car. We've wanted a Honda Pilot ever since they hit the market. Honestly, I was the one who was obsessively lusting after the Pilot in particular. J really wanted (a) any new vehicle, and (b) for me to STOP WAITING AND BUY THE FREAKING CAR ALREADY. But, being me, I had to wait for the right convergence of price, trade-in value, and alignment of the planets. But it finally worked out, and can I tell you how much I love the damn thing? No, I don't think I can. There isn't enough time. Let's just say that I catch myself looking out the window at work just to make sure it's really truly there. We loves it, my precioussss... Go on, click on it. See how purty it is. You know you want to.

Coming in a close second is the video iPod. Yes, video. Do you realize the significance of this? I could, at any time, be walking around with not only every 80s song I ever loved, but also an entire season of South Park, stashed in my purse. And isn't it cute in its little green case? This was a birthday gift from J and Boo (though I think Boo merely lent moral support), and the best part is that it was a complete surprise, since I had told J he was buying me something else for my birthday...

A Chi hair straightener. Which he insisted I get anyway (is he sweet, or what?) And it turns out that when you spend three times as much on a hair straightener, it really does work three times better. Who knew? It doesn't work faster, or get my hair straighter, but by God, it stays straight. I went outside (outside!) on a rainy, humid day and didn't have curled-up ends or those weird kinky bends at my hairline... just smooth, straight hair. Usually on a humid day I get curly before I even leave the bathroom. But I had straight hair outside. In the rain. It's a miracle.

Oh, and the Sopranos are back. Could it be any better?

Still more baby names

From the Valley, Alabama News-Times...

Rantavious

Titanya

Tenjenio Demonue (good job there... it's hard to find a middle name that goes with Tenjenio)

Luquious

Kathaus - would you pronounce this "cathouse?"

And these were all players in the same basketball game...

• Latorry (Toe Toe)
• Jakana (Bobo)
• Ke Ke

I can hear the crowd now... "Go Toe Toe!" "Go Bobo!" "Go Ke Ke!"

Siriusly.

You may ask yourself, "Is there any way I can listen to the radio in the morning and hear music, rather than idiots babbling for their own entertainment? Is there any way to drive through Arkansas and actually hear public radio rather than hip hop and country music? Are there any stations that play Police songs from albums older than Zenyatta Mondatta?" And the answer is: Yes, but you have to pay for it. So we did.

5 things I love about Sirius

1. Artist Alert/Song Alert – The radio politely beeps and says “Excuse me, Tracy, but U2 is coming up on another station. Would you like to switch over there?” Awesome. It even beeps before the song actually comes on, so you don’t miss a note.
2. Replay – Rewind and listen to it again! My favorite Dish Network feature, now available in a convenient, portable form.
3. Uncensored – Hey, turns out I was wrong… Green Day was saying “faggot American.” I assumed it was a different F-word.
4. Remote Control – I can change the station from anywhere.
5. Song/Artist Display – Find out who the heck that mystery band is!

5 things I do not love about Sirius

1. When the Artist Alert comes on, it doesn’t tell you what song is playing. Van Halen? Could be “Unchained” (yay!) could be “Jump” (bleh!). Take your chances. And there is no easy way to get back to the previous station when you realize the song you jumped to isn't one you want to listen to. Yes, I know I could program the individual songs I like, but there are only 30 slots available. J’s favorite Van Halen songs alone could take up all 30 slots.
2. No way to manually type in your favorites for Artist Alerts or Song Alerts – you just have to wait until they are actually played, and then hit the button. What are the chances that an obscure favorite like the Boomtown Rats will come on just when I happen to be listening? (Okay, the chances for that one were 100%, since it happened yesterday. God, I love Sirius.)
3. Uncensored – Okay, it’s funny to hear real live unbeeped obscenities in the promos, but it’s going to be awkward with a 6-year-old in the car.
4. Remote Control – this thing is SO going to get lost, or have Coke spilled on it, and it will be all my fault.
5. Song/Artist Display – Never again will I be able to flaunt my otherwise-useless trove of “who sang what” trivia.

I laughed, I cried, it was much better than Cats

This month's selection for my book club is Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal. I’m not much of a book reviewer. All I can say is that it was warm and funny and heart-wrenching and silly and sad… Go on, read the first few pages and see if you don’t want to read further. I think J sent his mom a copy before he even finished the first chapter.

Lamb tells the story of Christ that isn’t included in the Bible – from age 6 to age 30. Yes, of course it’s all made up. But it’s such a wonderful concept. I’ve read reviews that suggest Christians will be offended by this book. Well, I wasn’t offended (not that I’m the standard bearer for All Things Christian, but still). Nor was my husband. Nor our church’s rector, who recommended it in the first place. Who are these people who are offended at the idea that Jesus lived as a man, and had doubts and fears and desires like a man? That he would have been interested in, or even the master of, different spiritualities? Whoever they are, they need to get over it. One of the ladies in the book club told me she didn't like it and refused to finish it. She's a generation older than me, so I don't know if she was disturbed by the Christ aspect, or just the general bawdiness. Should make for an interesting meeting.

Now I'm reading The Fountainhead. When I bought the book for a quarter at the thrift shop, I thought I was re-reading it. After all, how does one get an English degree without reading The Fountainhead? Well, either I have a really bad memory, or this is the first time I've laid eyes on it (I must have read Atlas Shrugged instead, and this tells you how memorable it was.)

Anyway. It's hard to take this book as seriously as Ayn Rand intends it to be taken, because I simply can't get into the whole "architecture as religion" context. They're buildings, people. Get over it. It's hard to get into it at all, because the print is fiendishly tiny. And knowing that Rand considered protagonist Howard Roark (with his orange hair, "contemptuous mouth," gaunt cheeks, and serious case of Asperger Syndrome) as her ideal man, both physically and emotionally, just makes one say "eeew." An interesting comment from one website:

It is revealing that as Rand refined her idea of the heroic personality from the Howard Roark of The Fountainhead to John Galt in Atlas Shrugged, the type became steadily drained of, indeed, personality. Galt seems little better than a robotic mouthpiece of merciless ideology. Howard Roark was already peculiar enough, since he would just sit staring at the phone while waiting for work. He might at least have read magazines.

Magazines. Heh. That cracks me up. I'm less than a third of the way through, so it's too early to judge.

And, wrapping up our little book review column, Boo recently brought home a book from the school's library called Cats Have Kittens. J said "At least it doesn't come with a parent advisory." No, but maybe it should have. My first clue was when I saw it had won some kind of science award. We're not talking about the stork here, people. Instead, we're talking about the lovely Tabitha, who is in heat (and here's what she acts like when she's in heat! With pictures!) So she mates (no pictures there, thankfully). Either Boo already knows what heat and mate mean, or she didn't care enough to find out, because she was too eager to get to the part with the kittens. I'm betting on the latter.

Jokes that are only funny if you're a Monty Python fan and a health care provider or person with gastrointestinal issues

Barium swallow? Is that larger than an African swallow?

Adventures in mattress shopping

Store number 1:

Me: Walks into store.

Overly Made Up, Very Tightly Clothed Co-Owner: Is standing right in front of the door. I have to walk around her to get in the store. Chats with employees.

Me: Walks back to mattresses.

OMUVTCCO: Chats with employees.

J: (Walks in) Oh, that's my wife in the back.

OMUVTCCO: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!

OMUVTCCO leaves right before we do. We are parked next to her Very Large and Expensive SUV.

OMUVTCCO: You didn't find anything you wanted? Well, come on back sometime!

Me: I seriously doubt it.

Store #2:

Me: Do you have any kind of guarantee, like, if we hate this mattress, we have 30 days to exchange it for a different one?

Sleazy Furniture Store Guy: No. No one does that. There's one store in Oklahoma that does that, and it's Select Comfort, and their prices are 20% higher than ours. What they do is, they take your bed back, wrap it up in plastic and sell it as a new bed, even though that's illegal.

Me: Okay. See, the problem we're having here is, he (pointing to J) is having back problems right now, and nothing feels comfortable, so I'm afraid if we bought one today we might end up with something that's not going to work for his back.

SFSG: Well, this one right here is my best seller, and I've never had any complaints or returns on this one.

Me: Well, of course you've never had any returns. You don't take returns. (Insert small "I want you to think I'm kidding, but I'm really not" laugh)

SFSG: Well, no one does that. Only one store does. Select Comfort does. But their prices are 20% higher than ours. And they wrap it back up and sell it as new, even though that's illegal.

Me. Okay. (To J) Maybe we should just wait until your back is better.

SFSG: No one does that. One store in Tulsa, er, Oklahoma City does. Select Comfort does, but their prices are 20% higher than ours. And the way they do it is they take your old mattress and wrap it up in plastic and sell it as new.

J: Isn't that illegal?

Me: mrph! (Kicking J)

SFSG: Yes! Yes it is!

I think we're shopping at Select Comfort tomorrow.

We're going to Disneyworld!