Wednesday, January 31, 2007

An oldy but a classic: What's the scoop, poop?
(as emailed to me by Cinderella)

All the organs of the body were having a meeting, trying to decide who was the one in charge.

"I should be in charge," said the brain, "Because I run all the body's systems, so without me nothing would happen."

"I should be in charge," said the blood , "because I circulate oxygen all over so without me you'd all waste away."

"I should be in charge," said the stomach, "because I process food and give all of you energy."

"I should be in charge," said the legs, "because I carry the body wherever it needs to go."

"I should be in charge," said the eyes, "Because I allow the body to see where it goes."

"I should be in charge," said the rectum, "Because I'm responsible for waste removal."

All the other body parts laughed at the rectum and insulted him, so in a huff, he shut down tight.

Within a few days, the brain had a terrible headache, the stomach was bloated, the legs got wobbly, the eyes got watery, and the blood was toxic. They all decided that the rectum should be the boss.

The Moral of the story? The ass hole is usually in charge!

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Just the scoop, poop: Colonoscopies for Fun

Believe it or not, I've had an actual request for the story of my colonoscopy. How could I NOT post something that delicious? I thought I had written about it before, as it is one of my absolute favorite stories of all time, but it appears all that poop talk has never contained an actual dissertation on the infamous poop chute invasion. (All that poop talk and not the colonoscopy story? Sheesh! Maybe I've just forgotten where I hid that story in the blog. Alas, I will gladly tell it again. If it already exists, it will be fun to see if I tell the same story....)

This will NOT be for the squeamish or faint of fart--I mean heart, I promise.

I decided to get a screening for colon cancer because all these maternal relatives seem to have problems with their poop chutes. Why let cancer lurk in the bowels--literally--when you can have a garden hose shoved up your ass?

I made the appointment with the gastroenterologist (or however you spell it, no offense to him) and went to the "pre-poop-search" educational experience. That's where you sit in a room with about 20 other 105-year olds and they show you an educational video on what it will be like to have said garden hose shoved up your ass. This is also the time they provide you with the prescription to get the medication that will make poop shoot out of your butt like there is no tomorrow and when they try and explain what the "twi-light" drug will be like. The video was boring and not-at-all very enlightening, but in some ways, I suppose that was a good thing. The one thing the nurse stressed over and over and over was that once you drank this stuff you should NOT veer from the bathroom. Not for one millisecond. As a terminally constipated person, this sounded like sheer pleasure to me. Nothing shoots out of my butt unless it is the consistency of concrete. She also kept saying that we were not to use red liquid to mix our concoction nor were we to eat red or orange jello. I guess it makes things look red and bloody in there. I was all good with that, as I am not a jello fan in any sense. The nurse also talked about how we will be up all night having bowel movements. There's a fun night! (Go ahead, lady, say it--YOU'RE ALL GOING TO BE SHITTING YOUR BRAINS OUT ALL NIGHT!) They handed me my appointment card--2 PM! I wouldn't be able to eat after 5 PM and my colonoscopy wouldn't be until 2 PM. That sounded like torture--I eat on the hour and so I already start to feel hungry--but I took the card with minimal whine and focused on the fun on not being full of poo for a change.

I take my prescription, pick up my powder of joy, pick up some Crystal Lite and Gatorade (yellow, so not to look bloody and red) and head home. I mix up the GALLON of liquid I will now have to drink and let the drinking begin.

Do you know what it is like to drink a gallon of anything? Especially when you are drinking a gallon of something that really doesn't taste very good and must be consumed in a short duration of time?

It is not fun. (Side note: I never want to drink Lemon Crystal lite again in my ENTIRE LIFE.)

I suppose had I started shitting like they said I would, I might not have felt so miserable. But, no. My concrete insides let that gallon of liquid soak. So, there I sat on the bathroom floor, waiting for what the nurse described, feeling like a bloated, sick pig, miserable because there is a gallon of liquid in me and nothing is coming out. Either end.

After two or three hours of remaining in this condition, I decide to go to bed. I figured I'd wake up when it was "time." I curl up next to the wife and pray that something starts to happen because that gallon of goop is curdling in my belly.

Then, it finally happens. FIVE HOURS LATER, I wake with a small rumble in the gut. I am so excited I want to scream with joy. PLEASE let something come out of there! And, so things start to flow--slowly, at first; picking up steam as the night went along.

Soon, things were coming out of there that I had never seen. I peered into the toilet and what do I see floating in the rubble? Corn! This confuses me, as I have literally not eaten corn in over SIX WEEKS! That's some mighty old corn floating around in there! This makes me laugh out loud. God knows what else that crap is....it was fascinating in all the wrong, disgusting ways. I should have taken pictures.

Now, most people would have been done with the pooping aspect of a colonoscopy within hours. Not me. It was slow going after a late start. Maybe they knew something when they gave me that appointment time. I was still pooping as I was walking out the door to go to the appointment.

As the wife was busy working, I had a co-worker take me to the appointment. (A coworker with a fine respect for poop, I might add.) I filled out the form, promised I hadn't taken any contraband medications, put my little gown on, laid on the gurney with my butt cheeks hanging out. A really, really nice nurse comes in to start the IV and I say, "oh, I won't need that; I'm going to stay awake for the procedure."

She looks at me like I'm crazy. I assure her I really do want to remember this and take part of this (as I am one sick puppy). The nurse indicates this is a very unusual request, adding that she will have to ask the doctor. I'm all good with that. She returns and reports the doctor has agreed. Still, she must start a saline IV "just in case" I should change my mind during the procedure.

I am SO not going to change my mind! If someone is going to stick a garden hose up my ass, I want to remember EVERY SINGLE MINUTE.

Another super-nice nurse comes in and rolls me to the procedure room. (What is it with all these really nice nurses here?) Everyone, by the way, is lying on their left side while on their little gurneys. I guess that's what it's all about--on the left, roll, expose the butt, go! The doctor comes in and probably does a mini mental health examination to determine if I am fit to make a decision to stay awake during the procedure. He, too, tells me I can change my mind at any time. He turns on the television above my head, on the wall, explaining that I will be able to watch as he progresses. I am GIDDY with delight!

Then, the most embarrassing and humiliating part of the entire ordeal happens. I wasn't ready for it. See, the colonoscopy thingy has a camera on it--how else do you think they see anything?Well, the doctor turns the camera on and you can see the room, whatever. That's all fine. It was when he started coming toward my butt....oh.....so....slowly...that I wanted to die. There, in full living color, VERY ENLARGED and on TV, was my hairy butt crack!
I swear to you this is true. You do NOT know how hairy your butt crack may be in between those two little cheeks until you have seen it with your own two eyes, on a television screen.

I winced with embarrassment, but trust me--it was short-lived embarrassment, as once that garden hose entered my anus, I forgot all about the butt crack hair.

The rest was sheer amazement. There was still some poop hanging out in the colon, so he used a little stream of water and this windshield wiper thingy to make his way. (See? I told you I was constipated to the nth degree. I still had poop in there. Have pity on me.) He explained everything as he saw it and as I felt it. I have to admit, it did not hurt half as much as I thought it might. I was so glad to be awake. I'm not sure what he thought, as I kept talking about how cool this was.

Unfortunately, the big turn out of the first part of the colon into the perpendicular part of the colon takes a lot of muscle--that's a big turn. I am not kidding when I tell you that the doctor literally had the nurse come and push on the outside of my belly in an effort to help the garden hose make the turn. Yikes!

That part of the procedure was a tad touchy but very bearable. Okay, that hurt but for god's sake, women shoot bowling balls out of their vaginas during birth every day. This couldn't even be one-one millionth of such bowling-ball-vagina pain. Besides, it was only a fleeting splash of pain. Besides, the doctor had me bend and look at my abdomen, as you could literally see the light of the garden hose through my skin once it had made the big turn. Now, that's cool and so I professed my love of this moment.

I'm sure he was thinking, "FREAK!"

I'm sure he was thinking "REALLY BIG FREAK!" when I asked for photos. For some reason, he complied with my request and took three pictures of my insides for a souvenir. What a man!

Did I mention they basically fill you with air during this whole nonsense? This will come into play in just a few moments.....

It's only been like 15 minutes and he's already on his way "out." I talk incessantly about how much I've enjoyed this, thanking him repeatedly for letting me stay awake. I believe he was rather amused by the whole thing. He saved the best for last....

.....he turned that little puppy so he could see the inside of my anus. Picture someone trying to make a Shepard's hook turn with a garden hose in your butt hole. YEOW! Got a great photo, though. "Hmmmm, a little hemorrhoid," he says. "Get that thing out of there," is what I say. There is no time for embarrassment when someone is curling a garden hose in your butt.
(See the x-ray? That end of the garden hose can curl whatever way the doctor wants it to curl. If asked, never say yes to having an internal photo of your anus taken unless you must absolutely say yes.)

And, thus the procedure is over, they hand me my photos, roll me into the recovery area, still lying on my left side. Funny, tho--I'm fully conscious and everyone else is laying on their gurneys (on the left side, of course), smiling brightly with their eyes closed. Ah, they are in la-la land, still doped by the stuff of amnesiac. It was rather surreal. The nurse tells me I don't have to wait any longer--I can just get dressed and leave. Hey, this took less than an hour total and everyone else will be here for days! I'm psyched and ready for a candy bar.

When you have been filled with gas, the gas must come out. When I stand up to get dressed, the biggest, most explosive fart screams out of my hairy butt crack and I feel the walls reverberate with the force of the fart. I look around to see that I am alone, but no--I hear the nurse say that gas is normal and that it's going to come out of there rapidly. Oh my god! I'm not sure if I should be proud or horrified. I dress quickly and run to find my friend. As I am under no drug influence, I am free to go shopping. It came in handy--as we walked, I tooted along. It's fresh and pretty gas--just air--so it's just toot toot toot without the foul odoriferous giveaway.

And so, you have the story of my colonoscopy. I won't need another one until I'm fifty but rest assured I will stay awake when the time comes.......and, I'll be on the outlook for mystery corn floating in the muck and mire....

If you need a little more anal-related babbling, don't forget to visit one of my favorite stories (regarding Hot Diggity's anal gland explosion):
http://addiwp.blogspot.com/2006/04/anal-gland-explosion-of-hot-dog-kind-i.html

Saturday, January 20, 2007

Naughty Lucy, Photos from the Latest LLL & Cheeseball sightings WARNING! CHEESEBALLS SEEN TRYING TO MULTIPLY!
What is this? Ah--choooo! The wife has been very sick, thus she has been going through kleenex like there's no tomorrow. (She was so sick that she went to a walk-in clinic while wearing her pajamas. That's sick.) So, I'm looking for Lucy one night and I can't find her. I look under the bed where the wife has been perched all week.....and there I see a tail (right side of the photo) and a zillion tiny shreds of tissue:
The culprit: Mug Shot of Lucy, the tissue-shredding canine:
She is shutting her eyes in an effort to deny everything. That's one ugly mug shot. (Not quite as ugly as my long underwear, but close).
La Casa de la Presidente: aka the LLL abode for biannual meetings, soon to be the ex-casa, as they are knocking it down within the month. Sigh.
(See a few blogs prior to this blog for a crash course on the LLL and why I might be posting such photos.)
The infamous Crooked Toilet: what would life be like without the crooked toilet OR that luscious wallpaper? This photo does not do justice to illustrating how crooked the toilet really is.
The Parchment Paper Chefs come through again: We have two chefs on staff--er, as members-- of the LLL and they always come up with some fancy food products that are sure to have everyone's mouths a-watering. Here is their latest culinary masterpiece: pork something or other (hey, I'm a vegetarian & was eating portabella mushrooms--I don't know the official title for the feast). Team UConn and Team Tennessee always delite us with their extreme cooking abilities.
Food Coma: I'm not kidding when I say we basically eat, shop, eat, sleep and eat while attending the LLL.

Finally, another cheeseball sighting, this time in the jungles of a local office.....beware! The cheeseballs are coming for YOU!

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

CHEESE BALLS INVADE THE ADDIVERSE!

.,....11 PM on a quiet evening in the Addiverse..... The wife's been feeling mighty sick, so she went to bed early--like 6 PM early-- and left me to my own devices. After staring mindlessly at the Television for four hours nonstop (not even to blink), I decide to call it a night. In an effort to let the wife have some peace and quiet during her sickdom, the dogs and I decide to sleep on the couch (thus, letting her sleep uninterrupted by Lucy's gross licking all night). (By the way, why I sleep on the couch when we have two other full sized beds is a mystery to me......) I lay down on the couch, Lucy sitting on my chest licking my face whenever I shut my eyes to go to sleep, Freckles propped between my ankles, enjoying the pile of blankets I can no longer use because she is on top of them. We are just about to go to sleep when Lucy decides she MUST go potty RIGHT NOW! This is unusal for her--it's usually Freckles who decides a midnight pee is fun. So, I open the front door to throw her out and what do I find but this:

C H E E S E B A L L S !

A GIANT VAT OF CHEESEBALLS ON THE STOOP!

Not ANY cheeseballs, but Neighbor-by-the-boatload cheeseballs! I mean, this is the most cheeseballs I've ever seen in one container! Even the dogs are astounded by this giant bucket of cheese:

Lucy: HEY! Where'd these come from? I LOVE CHEESEBALLS!
Freckles: Isn't it time for bed yet?
Lucy: Are you eyeing my cheeseballs? Step away from my cheeseballs!
Freckles: I'm going to bed.
Lucy: I'm astounded!

Freckles :Well, okay--I'll take a sniff.
Lucy: Oh, what orgasmic puffs of gold!

...I keep laughing. Who could ever have better neighbors than our neighbors? No one! (Well, unless they were neighbors leaving handfuls of $100 bills on the stoop out front--that would be better but not half as funny.)

(Ya know, I hope you read the previous blog entry about the cheeseballs before reading this entry or else you will be sitting there thinking, what IS up with this lady and the cheeseballs?)

I left the cheeseballs on the kitchen counter for the wife to see when she got up in the AM, but she was still feeling so sick she didn't even see the giant pile of orange on the counter.....now, that's sick. (She never gets sick. Well, okay she sometimes gets sick but not very often. When she does get sick, she really gets sick. So sick she is blind to giant cheeseball tubs on the counter.) I point out the cheeseballs and she bursts out in laughter. She may be sick but she still has a sense of humor.....

In addition to a tub of golden delights on the doorstep, I was also presetned with a Xena Warrior Princess lunchbox from my coworkers, as illustrated above. Woo Woo! The Addiverse is all a-glow. I have been looking for one of these things for years! So, now I can put my cheeseballs IN my Xena lunchbox.

Is life good or what?

Sunday, January 14, 2007

The LLL: End of an Era (Part I: The Introduction)

Pre-Blog comment: Bear down, Chicago Bears!
Pre-Blog comment #2: Welcome, Cheeseball-flinging neigbhors and friends to the Addiverse
Pre-Blog comment #3: Who the hell ever thought of mixing Red Bull with Jaggermeister and downing shots of this hellish concoction?
Pre-Blog comment #4: Doesn't it just figure that my DOG is doing better in the football pool than I am? Maybe I should have let her make my picks all year long and I wouldn't have come in last place.

I have a confession to make. I belong to a gang.
(Stand back while I flash my colors--eggplant and forest green.)

Above: these are SERIOUS gang members. Don't mess with them...or, their food. (I can't share their true identies or we'd have to kill you. Phlange-a-slam, Pee Pee Peeker, Little Debbie Sneezeclumper and Patty Party Pecs take their anonymity with the utmost seriousness....) You didn't think all those tattoos I have were for fun, did you? Those are gang-related tattoes. (that Mickey Mouse is a real rat bastard. Ar Ar.)

Above: getting tattooed during a meeting of the Love Loft. Grrrrrrowl!

This weekend marks the end of an era for the gang to which I belong—the Triple L—or, for those in the know, the L-L-L (pronounced el-el-el). We, the esteemed eggplant-and-forest-green colored-gang members of the LLL had to say goodbye to our lodge of love, the President’s House at George Williams College. It is only fitting I dedicate the next 37 blog entries to the LLL and the loss of our bi-annual abode. (Blogging will be an integral part of my healing about this loss.)

Why? Why must we say goodbye? Because the college is knocking the building down, that’s why. That’s a pretty good reason…and one way to get us off their campus. It is time to move on.

Indulge me for a moment, won’t you? I feel a therapy session coming on.

An introduction: flash back to October 1994 (I had red, shag hair—the only way I can remember when I did what is by what hairdo I had at the time), the wife and I were invited to a friend’s cabin in Doctor-a-day-Fruit Canyon, about 80 miles west of our house. It was a beautiful cabin surrounded by nature’s finest, resting in the Land of General Grant. We really didn’t know most of the participants but we were game, as it sounded like a free-of-cost, alcohol-free food-frenzy of an event. (You read that right—alcohol free. We don’t want to waste calories on booze when there is twenty five tons of homemade food waiting for consumption. If you have a food addiction, this would NOT have been the place to be, but there was no need for alcohol to make this Love Loft fun.)

The hostesses were the Dog Whisperer (aka Ingabor Logjammer) and sidekick Spotted Owl (aka “Where’s the salad dressing?” lady ). The cabin sported a giant loft—hence, we ended up nicknaming it the Love Loft. (The third L in the LLL? That’s for you to figure out. It’s not rocket science, but out of respect to my gang sisters, I leave it at that.) All but two of us slept together in the loft. (Not literally together, you pervert—all in the same loft.) There were these teeny, tiny twin beds, which somehow we managed to sleep two in a bed. (That’s when we were much younger and didn’t mind squashing ourselves into twin beds. I am SO over that idea.) Some slept on the loft floor in sleeping bags or on air mattresses.

The weekend featured nerdy, wholesome things like:
hanging out in the loft,
playing board games,
eating,
lying in the middle of the gravel road looking up at the stars,
eating,
playing touch football in said gravel road,
eating,
staying up late into the night,
eating,
country line dancing in the living room (Boot Scootin’ Boogie, anyone?),
eating,
laughing,
smoking cigars, and
getting to know each other.
Little time was spent sleeping, solving world crises or doing things like makeup.

This first official meeting of the Love Loft gang is the weekend I met my twin sister, Tumbleweed (soon to be known more infamously as Einsteina Vagina)….she earned her nickname during the event when she managed to fall down the stairs at 3 AM, sparks flying from her slippers as she was flying down the carpeted stairs. (She was sober. To this day we are still not sure what really happened—all we heard was the commotion of her free-falling down the stairs and landing with a thud at the coat rack. Perhaps she was in some unusual food coma from the copious amounts of calories shoveled in during the day.) No she was not hurt--well, except for her pride but since she gave us much fodder for future LLL stories, she is probably almost proud of her tumble.

Above: this is NOT a picture of the Love Loft at the President's House but it is a picture of a recent summer meeting of the LLL in an out-of-state adventure. I don't have any photos of the cabin except in my photo albums, so use your imagination. (These are the true members of the LLL, enjoying a parchment papered lunch. That's a whole story in itself. Later...) Notice we are seated at a table, eating a meal. Many an hour has been spent in this position during meetings of the Love Loft.

Back to the cabin: Mouse turds on the counters and nibbles on the bread let us know we had visitors in the night and that we were in rustic territory—of course, the mouse turds in the bed sheets also alerted us we weren’t alone. Well, it wasn’t really THAT rustic, as there was a TV & VCR, an electric darts game, indoor plumbing. Plugs for hair dryers and CD players….. one of the funniest things related to mice is when LLL-ers put this hideous-rather-real-looking mouse in the wife's bed. Wish you coulda seen her face when she pulled back the comforter.....!

As we had such a fun time that first weekend, it was determined the gang would meet bi-annually at the cabin. And thus, we did exactly that. I have four million stories about the LLL, of which I will share 3.9 million of them in the next blogs. (The Love Loft is kind of misnomer, as there wasn't much love aloft in the loft, although we have been accused of much debauchery.) It was all good, even when we gained weight from all that eating matched with sitting playing board games....

......years went by without a hitch....... until the unthinkable happened. The cabin had to be sold. The gang was without a home turf.....

It was hard to say good bye to Galena but we knew we would persevere. All we needed was a place to call our new LLL home. We turned to Freida Food Frenzy (aka the wife) for help. She came through, securing us lodging at George Williams College. The gang went on, although we did miss the loft and ability to visit Generall Grant on a moment’s notice.

Here's a photo of what the campus looks like from the pier. Beautious, eh? It wasn't the cabin but it would suffice.

The story of the Love Loft as it progressed to George Williams College will have to wait--look, even Freckles is yawning by now, as illustrated above. I'll stop here so I can go eat a snack and gather my thoughts about the LLL....I'm in mourning and have to be gentle with myself and besides, I have to go get ready for the neighbors' Chicago Bears Football party.

No, we aren't taking cheeseballs....but, I'm sure they will be drinking those crazy Red Bull/ Jaggermeister bomb shots....

Thursday, January 11, 2007

The Great Cheese Ball Invasion of 2007

Going back to New Year's Eve: our neighbors (the fun neighbors who are always inviting us over but I'm always going to bed by the time they get things started) had one heck of a New Year's Eve party. (Yes, we were invited. No, we didn't go. I was too busy sleeping. That really pisses the wife off but after all these years, she is used to me being a "I-need-my-sleep-I'm-now-boring-nerd." Not that she likes it.) Sometime between Midnight and 3:45 AM (those are the times I know I heard them outside, having a blast...and a few beers, I'm guessing), there was a great cheese ball invasion and a serious cup cake fight.

How do I know this momentous event occurred if I was in bed sleeping? Maybe it was the cheese balls covering the lawn, the sidewalk, the driveway, the curb, the street, even lining the windshield of those still at the party by the time we got up on New Year's Day. There were cheeseballs EVERYWHERE! It was absolutely hilarious. The cupcakes? Well, there were cup cake liners strewn across the nation, not to mention faces had been drawn with frosting on the windshields of cars and there were piles of blue and orange (Bear colors!) smashed cupcakes along the same lines of the cheeseballs. (Only, cheese balls travel much further. We still find cheese balls every day when we walk the dogs. This makes us laugh. How can you not laugh when you see a cheese ball rolling down the street?)

What made me laugh even harder was the email we received last night from the neighbors. It was too funny not to share. I have deleted names to protect their identity (after all, the Cheese ball police might be looking for them. My made up names are [in these little thingies.] Maybe the email will only funny to those who actually witnessed the melee. I think not:

[Neighbor #2 writes] "Yo Doggies- let's have a Bears' party this weekend at [neighbor's] house. I [neighbor #2, who is probably lying about cleaning] will clean the house before you arrive and after you leave. The house will be spotless! Below are a few bits of information about my party.

-NO CHEESE BALLS OR CUPCAKES

- No ringing the neighbor's doorbell at any point during the day or night (neighbor won't get invited to the next block party)
- I'll bring the Italian beef-- you bring a bag of chips or dish to pass- ([Cracker Friend]- a hot blond doesn't count as a hot dish to pass unless you share)
- if you bring a dish to pass, take the damn thing home with you so I don't have to do the dishes the next day (since I'll be the one cleaning up after the party)
- bring your own beer - what do you think I'm rich or something (any beer left at the house goes into my personal collection)

-NO CHEESE BALLS OR CUPCAKES

- throughout the day there will be a ping pong tournament with a $5 entry and spectator fee (the fees will go toward the holes that may end up in the wall- the large trophy [friend and neighbor #2] will win and plus where else can you get such cheap entertainment [gaseous friend PB] burping "God Bless America" doesn't count)

[Ping Pong Goddess neighbors] are the reigning ping pong champions- I just thought I'd throw that in because I can- and we will kick your ______- when we kick your _______ you must tell us how cute we are (we already know we're good so you don't have to tell us that)

-NO CHEESE BALLS OR CUPCAKES

- there will be list to get into the party- your name must be on this list in order to get in. This will keep the professional ping pong players- and dirty girls away away. (Friend #47 you don't really like football anyway)
- you must wear your party pants (if you don't wear party pants you have to watch the game naked) [Party Friend rhymes with cookie] has many pairs- or [ML] said she'd make you all some party pants if you call her and ask her nicely.

-NO CHEESE BALLS OR CUPCAKES

- there will be a $5 cover charge for the party (nothing good is free and I'm worth way more than that anyway)After the Bears win I will be taking all of your $$$ at the poker table. No messing around this time. I have become a poker nerd- playing online while I'm supposed to be running a restaurant. If you would all call and order more often I wouldn't have to take your $ at the poker table.

- ABSOLUTELY NO CHEESE BALLS OR CUPCAKES ALLOWED

- there will be a limit on the amount of jello shots one person can consume-I don't want to have to clean red/purple stains out of the carpet too (another reason for the $5 cover charge- maybe we should make it $10- what do you think [puking friend])
- Anyone wearing Packer shit will watch the game in the garage. By the way, there's no TV in the garage (Packer friend don't push this one- we can take you- you too Brother man)
- if anyone wants to bring a neon Bears sign to hang in the front window-that would be cool (can you hook us up, [Electronic-gifted friend]
So, in conclusion I will have the house cleaned by 11:30 on Sunday. You are all welcome to come over anytime after that to watch the Bears win their first playoff game. Please say a few prayers for REX and send your pre-party payment of $29.95 to [neighbor #2] by this Sunday. See you all Sunday with your party pants on!"

Now, THAT's a fun party!

Monday, January 08, 2007

I haven't forgotten you....

....it's just that I have this George Forman Grill injury on my hand and we've been traveling the globe and the holidays have the schedule all screwed up and the Catholic Church is giving me an ulcer & so I've been out worshipping trees & dancing naked in a Pagan fashion and I've got a terminal case of acne on my chin so I'm all distracted.....

....in other words, I haven't made a blog entry and for this I apologize. I resolve to do better in the new year....later.