tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11786562357041517042024-03-13T00:11:47.275-07:00Inside my headA compiled heap of my poetry, memoirs and personal insights of past and present.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger248125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-87049672500673246592008-10-01T19:23:00.000-07:002008-10-04T10:43:30.395-07:00Not HereHello there. If you are looking for me, I've moved! Come and check out my new place <strong><a href="http://www.colleenmaloney.blogspot.com">HERE.</a></strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-87787353746645094392008-09-26T08:57:00.000-07:002008-11-17T11:37:56.952-08:00I just got servedAll I have to say today is that if you're over 30 you probably won't know what the heck this post is about. However, since I err on the older side of all my friends, and they are still in their 20's, I know the inside scoop. Also, I blog and so I see all you kiddos "tweets". So I know the dealio.<br /><br />For the record: I think that if you're over 30 and you're still "tweeting" you better have the most exciting life *ever* or you really need to get one. <br /><br />(<a href="http://daybreak1012.blogspot.com/">D.R.- </a>you can be the exception, because your tweets are pretty funny.)<br /><br />Now go check this out: <br /><a href="http://careyspence.blogspot.com/2008/09/youre-no-one.html">notes from the spencenator: you're no one</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-4293834865554043792008-09-22T10:17:00.001-07:002008-12-11T21:44:43.811-08:00Summer's End On Camano IslandWe were a merry band of five. Including a tiny Maltese/Something-I-don't-know-what- Mutt, who's name was Spike.<br /><br />As we walked down the steep steps of the lake house to the water Gerard mentioned that all the stairs he built were actually ladders that he secured into the ground. It must have been many ladders then because it was a very long ways down. Long enough to make you catch your breath.<br /><br />It was twilight and the heavy rain had finally stopped. The air was so rich and thick with the scent of earth it almost seemed surreal. It was a strong, clean, sweet smell and I couldn't drink in enough breaths.<br /><br />The last step down to the sandy beach arrived and I jumped down to the shore in my pink rubber boots. When I looked up, I couldn't move for a moment. To the guys I knew it seemed expected. They were probably used to this view I'm sure, but to an urban girl who grew up in the heart of NJ I thought that I somehow fell into heaven. <br /><br />The water didn't even lap at the shore, it was that still. As if someone had put a plate glass on top of the sea and it looked as though you could walk out onto it.<br /><br />Although it was small, it was for sure their own private beach and as I looked to the left the sun was setting in sherbet colored swirls of pink, peach, yellow, orange and just a touch of purple. It wasn't florescent. They weren't loud colors. The sky was not screaming for attention, but it's understated beauty is what drew my gaze and I imagined that if love could show itself in colors, then that sky was revealing all to me.<br /><br />I engaged in conversation but kept reverting my eyes back to the swirling colors that held me captivated as though a handsome man where trying to get my attention. Yes. It was truly that brilliant. <br /><br />Then we noticed that off to the right in the opposite direction of the sunset was a rainbow. Not just any rainbow, but one that curved straight into the water so it's reflection bounced off of the still, glass like surface and doubled it's size.<br /><br />At the same time as I tried to take it all in, a sea lion popped its head to the surface a ways out from the shore. My friend Evan had been skimming rocks that went so far out it must have caused the creature to think it was a fish so he stuck around awhile to catch the show. I watched his head bob in the water and then his back would pop out too until he'd go back under only to emerge another time in the hopes of catching a bite.<br /><br />After many a rock skipping show with "No less then 10 skips", the guys hauled out a row boat complete with ores and life jackets for all. "Really?" I said. "We're going to go out on the boat? In the open water? I, I hope I don't get sea-sick." I stammered. They laughed at the city girl. "No Colleen. I don't think you have a chance at getting sea-sick on water that is as still as this." I hadn't thought of that. So I hopped in the boat along with the guys and the little dog and we shoved off into the water.<br /><br />It was a delightful experience. In fact, it may have been my very first time in a row boat ever. I'd been in a canoe many times with my father on the lake in Vermont, but never a row boat, in open water. I wanted to get up and do a little "I-love-row- boats-dance", but that would have been a bad idea. So I didn't do that.<br /><br />We talked and laughed and I think they liked the new girl. (Even if she was an urban girl, she was a country girl at heart.) We watched the Blue Herring fly over our heads and eventually rowed back to shore where my friends had finally showed up.<br /><br />We spent the evening lounging, which is only respectable at a lake front house, eating and finished it off with my favorite, a blazing fire pit around which we all told stories and made S'mores. But I had to tell mine standing on top of a large tree stump next to the fire, while I made dramatic expressions with my face and hands and laughed louder than anyone else.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-70589002663202582272008-09-18T18:58:00.000-07:002008-09-18T19:13:22.660-07:00Miss PiggyI don't normally talk about food a lot on my blog. However today for your reading enjoyment and because I don't know what else to write about, I will discuss my dietary meals for the day. Why? Because I might as well have eaten out of the trash can that's why.<br /><br />Let's see shall we?<br /><br />First Breakfast: Cereal and coffee. Eh, not too bad.<br />Second Breakfast: Brownies. A big one with milk.<br />Snack or Lunch Pathetic-O- A huge piece of Rhubarb pie and another coffee.<br />Pre-dinner snack- another brownie, only a small one.<br /><br />This is very bad. Why did I eat like this? Because I baked brownies today and aside from the cereal, that's about all I had to eat in the house. Tomorrow I will try and do better. Now if you will excuse me, I need another brownie....just kidding.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-46174587448136369992008-09-16T12:13:00.000-07:002008-09-16T12:54:32.651-07:00Ohhhh. It's September.September. <br /><br />It's my favorite month. I'm obsessively listening to September Grass by James Taylor and his whole album October Road is wonderful and then I listen to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfLEc09tTjI&feature=related">this song</a> a lot too because it's one of my all time favorites.<br /><br />Plus, we are having a fabulous Indian Summer right now which makes up for the fact that winter lasted until June.<br /><br />September also means that I pull out my delicious recipe for Pumpkin bread with chocolate chips which my mother, sister and I all make. It is do die for.<br /><br />There is a great deal of change about to go on in my life and I'm still standing on the precipice of it. I can't wait to see what happens...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-46753513450182696002008-09-12T12:57:00.000-07:002008-09-12T13:04:26.633-07:00The Cave Woman<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV10E-5FOg2Qs3yfrCfEGIjMTOeFo4lXrM-yc2-18A5L3wmLm1yH6NrblJxiBQ6xGnBdfxRP5LMGsEsSJrX0IQWWNzeyjZjstrwsqqewCh7eGypVjhntbcmUv7ye_ni7M6wT5SyUDZD8rh/s1600-h/Cave+Woman+004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV10E-5FOg2Qs3yfrCfEGIjMTOeFo4lXrM-yc2-18A5L3wmLm1yH6NrblJxiBQ6xGnBdfxRP5LMGsEsSJrX0IQWWNzeyjZjstrwsqqewCh7eGypVjhntbcmUv7ye_ni7M6wT5SyUDZD8rh/s400/Cave+Woman+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244117941230303266" /></a><br />Me paint hair.<br />Me paint face.<br />Me paint nails.<br />Me shave legs.<br />Me no clown.<br />Me no cave-girl no more.<br />Me no look old now.<br />Me look good.<br />Me put down club.<br />Me meet man with beard.<br />Me pretend lady.<br />Man fall for it.<br />Me win.<br />Ugh.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-4217283198099798912008-09-11T18:09:00.000-07:002010-12-12T23:39:37.875-08:00Going Postal<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiofuuFl67kc1Bi3nYm8lqlCS2_tgu24YHdoj86c4RM2ns8mwqUl9tBZTOj5RadDliFriV0MGwcyyERNKKC4W-4TUqKkNm0f9mKtNxZFAU-ZhysAxTbt2FVmmPQ4ojgja7CMKXqSsMyqm8/s400/CHEWBACCA-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiofuuFl67kc1Bi3nYm8lqlCS2_tgu24YHdoj86c4RM2ns8mwqUl9tBZTOj5RadDliFriV0MGwcyyERNKKC4W-4TUqKkNm0f9mKtNxZFAU-ZhysAxTbt2FVmmPQ4ojgja7CMKXqSsMyqm8/s400/CHEWBACCA-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Yes, that's right. Yesterday I almost went postal at the post office, UPS to be exact. Now, I know the age of chivalry is pretty much dead thanks to stupid women's liberators who act like two year olds in their "leave me alone I can do it myself attitude" and they had to wreck it for the rest of us ladies and don't get me started on all the dates I've had to pay for myself on because of it...<br /><br />Anyway back to yesterday. I had a very large, very heavy cardboard box that I had to ship for my boss. As I pulled up there was a man who was sitting right next to the store. I got out of my car and managed to squeeze the box out as well but in a very awkward way. This guy watched me as if I was entertainment without even thinking to help. I wobbled like a pregnant woman over to the door and tried to pry it open, but it was extremely heavy and after two tries I stuck my head in the door looking for help. There were two men inside who were having a conversation and obviously ignoring me. I wanted to ask for help but I felt stupid because they were trying not to pay attention. So opened the door and heaved the box up onto my hip and wobbled in. <br /><br />I dropped the box down with a thud and went back for the second load. This time I was so busy trying to get the door open that I didn't look at my feet and I swung the heavy door open right on top of my foot. (In my flip flop.)<br /><br />I though I was going to lose it. I'm not one for swearing (even in my head) but it hurt so badly I thought I would scream and cry something I would regret. However, I was also so mad at all three of these bozo’s for witnessing a tiny damsel in distress and leaving her to figure it out that I bit my tongue and kept my trap shut.<br /><br />I took care of business but I felt like a female version of a Very Cross Wookie with angry eyebrows in as much a fury as Chewbacca with a cross bow.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-41575707107622026952008-09-10T12:49:00.000-07:002008-11-18T11:42:21.079-08:00MEMEWelcome to the 2008 edition of getting to know your Friends MEME! Press FORWARD - then change all the answers so they apply to you, and then send this to your friends including the person who sent it to you.<br />The theory is that you will learn a lot of little things about your friends that you might not have known!<br /><br /><br />1. What time did you get up this morning?<br /><br />5 am for a hungry stomach. 7am to shut off the alarm. 9am to check email. 10am to get my but in gear. <br /><br />2. Diamonds or pearls? pearls (hmmm, I bet a woman made this up.)<br /><br />3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? <br /><br />I can't remember but the chances are it stunk.<br /><br /><br />4. What is your favorite TV show?<br /><br />nothing much anymore.<br /><br /><br />5. What do you usually have for breakfast?<br /><br />peanut butter on toast for ages, then cereal, now coffee. I have to make myself eat lately.<br /><br />6. What is your middle name? <br /><br />"Anne with an E"<br /><br />7. What food do you dislike?<br /><br />RIBS!!! Ahhh, sick! <br /><br /><br />8. What is your favorite CD at moment?<br /><br />Healing waters: Klaus Kluhn, Kari Jobe, and whatever is on my playlist.<br /><br /><br />9. What kind of car do you drive?<br /><br />the kind with four wheels that's paid for.<br /><br /><br />10. Favorite sandwich?<br /><br />peanut butter, shredded carrots, alfalfa on toast. (and I'm not even pregnant.)<br /><br /><br />11.What characteristic do you despise?<br /><br />Pride, when I see it in myself or others.<br /><br />12. Favorite item of clothing?<br /><br />jeans and a navy blue sweater jacket from Jcrew that I got on clearance and my flip flops.<br /><br /><br />13. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go?<br /><br />Italy with a bike!!<br /><br /><br />14. Favorite brand of clothing?<br /><br />brand shmand. I like stuff that fits well. I don't care where it comes from.<br /><br /><br />15. Where would you retire to?<br /><br />Heaven<br /><br />16. What was your most recent memorable birthday? My 30th?? or my 13th when I stuck my face in my cake and threw it at my friends and we had a massive cake fight. Watch out or I'll do it at yours. <br /><br />17. Favorite sport to watch? <br />basketball, baseball or soccer live. Otherwise I don't care to watch it at all.<br /><br /><br />18. Farthermost place you are sending this?<br /><br />to the end of the Internet.<br /><br />19. When is your birthday?<br /><br />April 1<br /><br />21. Are you a morning person or a night person?<br /><br />Both, it drove my roommate crazy, but I don't believe she will have to endure my perky antics, scary faces and random dance moves for much longer!! ;-) <br /><br />22. What is your shoe size? 8<br /><br />23. Pets? I wish!<br /><br />24. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? Like the fact that I'm an undercover spy working for the CIA? Opps.<br /><br />25. What did you want to be when you were little? A hair dresser.<br /><br />26. How are you today? Superduperpooperscooper!<br /><br />27. What is your favorite candy? gummy candy<br /><br />28. What is your favorite flower? love them all especially if they smell nice.<br /><br />29. What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to? Today because it's here!<br /><br />30. What is your full name? <br />Colleen Anne Maloney Princess of My World and Keeper of the Chocolate Stash.<br /><br />31. What are you listening to right now? nuffin'<br /><br />32. What was the last thing you ate? Almonds<br /><br />33. Do you wish on stars? nope, but I like to watch them twinkle.<br /><br />34. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? The one that's the smallest, that you have to stick your finger way down to get, that has most of the paper peeled off because it was used the most. I suppose that would be the black one :)<br /><br />35. How is the weather right now?<br />"We are enjoying very fine weather." -Margret Dashwood<br /><br />36. The first person you spoke to on the phone today? some lady at Macy's, HA!<br /><br />37. Favorite soft drink? Diet Coke<br /><br />38. Favorite restaurant? The Pink Door in Seattle<br /><br />39. Real hair color? Dark brown and some gray<br /><br />40. What was your favorite toy as a child? Barbies all the way baby.<br /><br />41. Summer or winter? Summer<br /><br />42. Hugs or kisses? Both<br /><br />43. Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate<br /><br />44. Coffee or tea? Coffee<br /><br />45. When was the last time you cried? Does tearing up count?<br /><br />47. What is under your bed? Monsters, Snakes, Vikings, Trolls and a really long and skinny pair of white arms that are ready to reach up and pull me under!!...At least, that's what I though up until...Oh, a year ago.<br /><br />48. What did you do last night? BBQ going/away party.<br /><br />49. What are you afraid of? Being deceived and not knowing it.<br /><br />50. Salty or sweet? Salty<br /><br />51. How many keys on your key ring? Too many<br /><br />52. How many years at your current job? A year and nine months<br /><br />53. Favorite day of the week? Friday<br /><br />54. How many towns have you lived in? So many I can't count them all.<br /><br />55. Do you make friends easily? No because I'm fresh and rude. Of course I make friends easily!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-23630772423042764832008-09-08T21:13:00.000-07:002008-09-09T18:02:07.131-07:00Garbage Can Head<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiGU38y3SVI63ro5tYc5Rzm-8uX4V5QBIvUqL-6CE7TCdRJCES1W2j4z9N8lONbhtzom435RpSfBX74CGZteaDoZg7ApuNbYT5Vz4kgUu-KTeSpSE1ADCDA2vCJ4QpRpITFMEDzDCqsQ9c/s1600-h/garbage+can+head+003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiGU38y3SVI63ro5tYc5Rzm-8uX4V5QBIvUqL-6CE7TCdRJCES1W2j4z9N8lONbhtzom435RpSfBX74CGZteaDoZg7ApuNbYT5Vz4kgUu-KTeSpSE1ADCDA2vCJ4QpRpITFMEDzDCqsQ9c/s400/garbage+can+head+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243875121636630626" /></a><br /><br />My thoughts sit like a bowl of soup.<br />I stare at the bowl.<br />Soupy brown with drippy okra.<br />I write my thoughts down.<br />Thoughts of nothingness.<br />So I toss them in the garbage can of my head.<br />It feels like Jambalaya in my soul.<br />That's all I have to say about that today.<br /><br />(This makes no sense. I should have drawn a bowl of soup, but that would be boring and a garbage can head is much more enjoyable.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-5918569243069614692008-09-04T15:15:00.000-07:002008-09-04T15:18:11.250-07:00Pulling the RugThe rug has offically been pulled and I don't know where the ground went......<br />God, does this mean I get to fly now? Because I'm afraid of falling.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-38381190795717786832008-09-03T13:33:00.000-07:002008-09-04T21:24:58.742-07:00Pizza for Dinner...My dinner tonight is courtesy of my buddy <a href="http://thedanmega.blogspot.com/2008/09/coffee-remember-when-i-professed-my.html">Dan Mega</a>. He sent me a pizza in the mail and I sent him a bomb. Okay, maybe it wasn't a bomb, but we did a swap of what our city's are famous for. I'm not telling but actually I think I give it away on the video, so whatever. This was so cool and very fun to try. Originally I was joking about him sending me a pizza. I didn't think he would actually do it, but he did. <br /><br />Pizza from Chicago FTW.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YE5GB41zYSI&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YE5GB41zYSI&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-37315251620118054822008-09-01T09:06:00.000-07:002013-01-21T13:39:11.838-08:00The ArborIN THE DARK, I walked like a secret into the backyard of my old house.<br />I walked along the hedges and as I looked at the ground I felt as though it was still my backyard.<br />I stood in the place where the garden of my mother's hands grew.<br />Now I was standing in only grass.<br />I hid behind the large oak tree and peeked out at the house.<br />The air was like a cool summer breath and a symphony of crickets played the soundtrack of my past.<br />I stood behind that tree and stared.<br />It is not my home now.<br />It is not my house.<br />Those are not my things.<br />But as I looked to the right, I noticed the white Arbor.<br />It used to stand along the side of the garden, attached to a white fence<br />that led the way into the garden.<br />Now it was awkwardly standing alone there in the back of the house, a part of nothing.<br />So I sighed and turned and slipped back into the dark and walked home.<br />To my home.<br />To my parents.<br />To my dogs.<br />To my future.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-1162920424895600812008-09-01T08:58:00.000-07:002008-09-01T09:06:39.449-07:00FragileI heard the sound of glass shattering,<br />like elegant pearls spilling all over the floor.<br />And I did not know how to clean them up.<br />And I did not know how to put them back together, on my own.<br />And I noticed the sound I heard came from me.<br />And I realized it was my heart.<br />And then I realized how fragile I was.<br /><br />(thoughts from one of those once apon a time moments...)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-50283544926539406912008-08-25T20:09:00.000-07:002008-08-25T20:15:46.765-07:00SunsetThe sun sets on the water like orange paint spilled all over the ocean.<br />It seeps into the deep.<br />I wait with quiet anticipation.<br />Lips parted, breath held.<br />And in an instant this ageless miracle is gone.<br />I will have to wait again until tomorrow.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-32517130678310084362008-08-22T09:36:00.000-07:002008-08-22T21:30:40.714-07:00Why NotWhy not post. I'm sitting in the Phoenix airport...and I just missed my connecting flight. <strong>:(</strong> I was up at 2.45 this morning for my flight. Everything went fine until I made my connection. I was happily seated for the second leg of the trip when the flight attendant confirms the final destination...JFK. "JFK?!?!" I shouted at cute guy beside me. "I'm on the wrong flight!" I grab my extremely heavy bag because my laptop weighs the amount of a small boulder and RUN like it's nobody's business out the plane and down the concourse. I go from classy JCREW chick to my days in London as a commuter school girl. And anyone who commutes knows to stay out of the way of a late commuter. I book it down the concourse <em>10 EXITS long</em> run down the connecting path which is almost just as long and then run down the next concourse all the way to the end. I practically threw myself at the ticket counter and breathlessly told them what happened. "Sorry, the flight's boarded, we can't let you on." Big sigh on my part and I forlornly slop my way all the way back up the concourse to the ticket agent and get rerouted for another flight.<br /><br />So now I'm sitting in the airport blogging away and waiting for the flush in my face to die down as I chug my second bottle of water. Way to go me.........<br /><br />(I can't fix punctuation and spelling because my battery is running out, so if this post is sloppy then so be it. Bleh.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-14299784480656836332008-08-20T23:30:00.000-07:002008-08-21T15:26:29.890-07:00It's late and I'm bored<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgQCMjyDP2I98tUSFeUKgO3DIW5PrkuUDt2qG0pxSWJIIpLutq5_jLVZEMcqQkoh-3qaa6EercgdPv5z2ehyphenhyphenAOdnUGz8v1dWLrfMikiZbwrh_yQcRQNa0jj5o7w1KSlx0SVrJq291XkHt/s1600-h/myYearbookPhoto.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgQCMjyDP2I98tUSFeUKgO3DIW5PrkuUDt2qG0pxSWJIIpLutq5_jLVZEMcqQkoh-3qaa6EercgdPv5z2ehyphenhyphenAOdnUGz8v1dWLrfMikiZbwrh_yQcRQNa0jj5o7w1KSlx0SVrJq291XkHt/s200/myYearbookPhoto.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236855217493491538" /></a><br />Now class I expect you to behave like good little monsters...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3eiKLVspCufiBjWXHrp1yE4YcygjWGAeDZtaqrMQgraL-na73JECu0VcmJgNxqdsrgvnOxHK737LaVAlzHnXK2QIs8wBEJQ05Cxllrxs51L5EQ6EJZkVX6w7ZLxqLSr1GukDwUskfaph/s1600-h/myYearbookPhoto%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3eiKLVspCufiBjWXHrp1yE4YcygjWGAeDZtaqrMQgraL-na73JECu0VcmJgNxqdsrgvnOxHK737LaVAlzHnXK2QIs8wBEJQ05Cxllrxs51L5EQ6EJZkVX6w7ZLxqLSr1GukDwUskfaph/s200/myYearbookPhoto%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236855218535134818" /></a><br />Does this rosey flower next to my face match my complexion?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqRgkY65wxie3Ng444B4cnBpSdOWhED_lo9-aQgcHv5xLsS6dZF-m4DxvugT2uqJfmSyBvYkaKbWDdo0j1qHanEcT8xIRQ1Kmos0Wn5SSoncz4f4MR0gSE1hzaHCGtr6u2L9CO62k42Ou/s1600-h/myYearbookPhoto%5B1%5D+(2).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqRgkY65wxie3Ng444B4cnBpSdOWhED_lo9-aQgcHv5xLsS6dZF-m4DxvugT2uqJfmSyBvYkaKbWDdo0j1qHanEcT8xIRQ1Kmos0Wn5SSoncz4f4MR0gSE1hzaHCGtr6u2L9CO62k42Ou/s200/myYearbookPhoto%5B1%5D+(2).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236855219221878082" /></a><br /><br />My friends call me Barbie, but late at night when I look in the mirror I call myself Christie Brinkley.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5svp-SNN5daAYGYVoc_auEMafsi7yN5Kq7hrcdq5VMwuphR89P3HV2ZPV0_mX1pGkG33LxH9EVRMK8tPhClVafDay2wSaSGNg-Lne3IEKcdxsJnZGv9X04NcY1zK13DcUcaCll7d4PhWl/s1600-h/myYearbookPhoto%5B1%5D+(3).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5svp-SNN5daAYGYVoc_auEMafsi7yN5Kq7hrcdq5VMwuphR89P3HV2ZPV0_mX1pGkG33LxH9EVRMK8tPhClVafDay2wSaSGNg-Lne3IEKcdxsJnZGv9X04NcY1zK13DcUcaCll7d4PhWl/s200/myYearbookPhoto%5B1%5D+(3).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236855221775434018" /></a><br />I don't need a helmet when I ride my bicycle, I'm already wearing one!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecWf8gDfuY7YdoNwsFDX_g8cdVn8IcaxTlovTuwka9z8V_8vyCyPFKd9LCaHp5ExR5q-A34GuuMM8ruQJaOHSUGwhwNSVWLWz9nualg_bejyOm1Rgbh9p6SOf8OpP4WQK9RSXHWcP5AE6/s1600-h/myYearbookPhoto%5B1%5D+(4).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecWf8gDfuY7YdoNwsFDX_g8cdVn8IcaxTlovTuwka9z8V_8vyCyPFKd9LCaHp5ExR5q-A34GuuMM8ruQJaOHSUGwhwNSVWLWz9nualg_bejyOm1Rgbh9p6SOf8OpP4WQK9RSXHWcP5AE6/s200/myYearbookPhoto%5B1%5D+(4).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236855226236204418" /></a><br />Honey, I worked on this roast all day for dinner for you! Oh, you ate with the guys and want to watch football? Then how 'bout I whip up a fresh serving of "You Big Fat Jerk."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-48949374009449494602008-08-18T11:38:00.000-07:002008-08-18T22:40:02.220-07:00Mean Girl<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDOVwyvNMA/SKnQDYX 3QtI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/PwKrjsrq-Yw/s1600-h/002.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTjYgWUT-gvgJMEwW1i8H7tVmph_RdAEzi7sed4Xo4WvBJyWehhq2eq2N8GOn1yULbN_bMNJgWrKF5QQyoOeXI-xgHrLq0OmsTbWBwPGbL_PMAyS7ugil-RlrY19ckXSOnVtROjNY0HZdc/s320/002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235944798295638738" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjui8UBaQEFW9XbtSyyI36kwij4pJ39WrJC7rJ6xH1rhJX29Y0ZA1z5U3tduyzgEzmHrFVvF5hFPAUEwoS_tfKZcYxPXwQ6bn-ZvsleRI2ZcIvhWdnkurv3OF00WWl20gx94zNrjgqmWPQc/s1600-h/Me+as+Serious.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjui8UBaQEFW9XbtSyyI36kwij4pJ39WrJC7rJ6xH1rhJX29Y0ZA1z5U3tduyzgEzmHrFVvF5hFPAUEwoS_tfKZcYxPXwQ6bn-ZvsleRI2ZcIvhWdnkurv3OF00WWl20gx94zNrjgqmWPQc/s320/Me+as+Serious.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235944383953784706" /></a><br />This is Me.<br />Me as Mad.<br />Me as mad and I'm so bad.<br />Me as angry.<br />Me as mean.<br />Me as hot sauce full of steam.<br />Me as cranky with no food.<br />Me as Stink-Eye-Ugly-Dude.<br /><br />Make no mistake.<br />This ain't a joke.<br />I'm madder than a pig in poke.<br /><br />What's the matter?<br />What the doin'?<br />What's with all great poo pooing?<br /><br />Well, it's simple.<br />I forgot.<br />And that's why I'm just boiling hot.<br /><br />I want to yell.<br />I want to shout.<br />But I don't know what to shout about.<br /><br />So this is Me.<br />Me as Mad.<br />And now I am<br />so very....<em>sad</em>.<br /><br />(<em>Author's Note</em>: This the worst drawing in the world and she knows it.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-28936372508647365292008-08-13T15:50:00.000-07:002008-08-13T16:38:31.558-07:00What's in a name?When I was in eighth grade, I had a teacher named Mrs. Wheezer. For real. She didn't actually wheeze but she really fit her name and that always kind of scared me. She wore really odd clothes and spoke in a strange way with her fingers and she had very large glasses and wore sandals with yellow toe nails.<br /><br />Then I had a regular substitute teacher all through elementary and middle school. Her name was Mrs. Stanky. No joke. Poor woman. She also fit her name. She was short, wore a wig and wore short polyester pants. For the love! She was clueless and the bratty kids I went to school with always called her Mrs. Stinky. Stinky, Stanky, <em>seriously, </em>is one really worse then the other? <br /><br />Here's my point and yes I have one. They were both <em>Mrs.</em> They weren't born with those last names, no. They <em>grew</em> into those names. (And a shudder goes through all the single girls who read this.) What if I <em>do</em> get married? What if he <em>does</em> have the worst last name in the world? What if I grow into his last name like the way those women did? I'm sure as young girls they didn't think, "Hey when I grow up I'm going to wear a really bad wig and polyester pants that don't fit and I'll never bother with breath mints." <br /><br />All I'm saying is that, if it comes down to it, I'll settle for keeping my maiden name if his is really <em>that</em> bad. Given the choice of what's worse to be made fun of Colleen Maloney (Bologna), Colleen Stanky, Colleen Wheezer. Yup, I'll settle for Oscar Meyer's famous piece of processed meat, thanks.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-39025022945957403332008-08-13T15:27:00.000-07:002013-01-21T13:39:11.841-08:00Tattoo GirlYou <em>could</em> say that I have tats. <br />A whole lot of them. <br />So many that they are really squished together and paint my skin the color of splattered coffee with cream.<br />I used to imagine they were the keys to a buried treasure emblazoned above my knee or shoulder when I was a kid.<br />I've got so many on my face.<br />Seriously, just all over the place.<br />Ain't no getting rid of 'em.<br />So I gotta live with 'em.<br />Me and my speckled freckles.<br />Yup in the summertime,<br />that's how I roll. <br /><br />Speckled <br />Freckled<br />sometimes <br />heckled<br /><br />But <br />never <br />ever <br />let it be said <br />that sometimes my freckles <br />go to my head.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-7617702660430809252008-08-12T14:56:00.000-07:002008-08-12T15:17:03.618-07:00Empty HeadThere is nothing left to say.<br />Nothing in my head anyway.<br /><br />I sit around.<br />I think a lot.<br />Sometimes I think while on the pot.<br /><br />But there is nothing left to say.<br />Everything's been said anyway.<br /><br />I'm out of words.<br />The well is dry.<br /><br />I'll find a closet. <br />I'll hide and cry.<br /><br />There's no more writing.<br />I'm left for dead.<br />There's no more words inside my head!<br /><br />Here's my noggin.<br />Here's my head.<br />It's empty now,<br />I fear and dread.<br /><br />I'll take it off and try again. <br />And maybe tomorrow I'll find words then.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-76789572886124123702008-08-06T11:52:00.000-07:002008-08-06T12:14:28.879-07:00Tree Tops<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60tohVp4w_0tGtm0gUjoOFKY06iSwBuc5XGA0aCsO6oUKf3WuORhlAMsR8si2-6N-rolEvTh0vBREos0JyWFFu0ibSDru47rcSCqDuM0sGXww_IMPLntKtZIAjsGRTe1If0TDSEQKu7Ok/s1600-h/001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60tohVp4w_0tGtm0gUjoOFKY06iSwBuc5XGA0aCsO6oUKf3WuORhlAMsR8si2-6N-rolEvTh0vBREos0JyWFFu0ibSDru47rcSCqDuM0sGXww_IMPLntKtZIAjsGRTe1If0TDSEQKu7Ok/s400/001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231480878678968834" /></a><br /><br />Hiding in the tree tops.<br />Upon the hilly place.<br />She gazes at the lovey,<br />splendor by His grace.<br /><br />And there among the tree tops<br />and there among the clouds,<br />she knows that all creation<br />is worshipping out loud.<br /><br />For who has carved the mountains?<br />And who has made the seas?<br />The One who formed the universe<br />And formed the heart in me.<br /><br />So who then knows me better?<br />And who then knows you too?<br />Why it's the Lord Almighty<br />And He's calling after you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-349079790909190172008-08-03T18:29:00.000-07:002008-08-03T18:35:16.287-07:00Part of a conversation I heard today at the parkMother: "No I didn't!"<br /><br />Son: "Yes you did!" (Then screams across the park to his father) "<em>Dad</em>! Mom says she didn't fart<em>ed</em> but she did!"<br /><br />Note to self: Do not lie to your children when they already know the truth- or prepare for public humiliation.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-65852767575676423702008-07-31T10:13:00.000-07:002008-07-31T10:16:51.610-07:00Oh For Cryin' Out Loud!I am such a big baby. My sister told me about this and maybe you all have already seen it, but I didn't so I want to share this because it gets me all misty eyed...<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/adYbFQFXG0U&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/adYbFQFXG0U&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-14979796808262201432008-07-30T09:37:00.000-07:002008-07-30T10:46:59.453-07:00Guys In Cars Part 2Before I say anything, let me prefece this post by saying that this morning, when I left the house, I looked like a school marm with my hair pulled back in a wet bun, no make up and pearl earrings. Plane Jane. <br /><br />That said I was driving down the interstate on my way to work when a car pulled up next to me and a man lowered his window and was trying to get my attention. I looked over and thought he was trying to tell me something was wrong with my car. <br /><br />Not quite.<br /><br /> He was simply trying to get me to notice <em>him</em>. Then he started making gogglie eyes at me and raising his eyebrows and gave me the biggest grin ever. This was no kid either. I've gotten that cocky Joey look <a href="http://mynameisgirl.blogspot.com/2007/07/guys-in-cars.html">"Hey how you do’in?"</a> before. This wasn't it. The guy had to be in his mid-thirties. It was a genuine smile but in the silliest "Hey I have to get your attention!" sort of way. I started to laugh at him, I couldn't help it. Then he sped up and got in front of me and stuck his arm out the window and began waving his cell phone frantically in the air as he smiled back at me in his side mirror. I had to put my hand over my mouth because I was laughing so hard at him, but he didn't care. Then he put his cell phone down and stuck his hand out the window and starts to motion with his hand the numbers five-four-two-three and so on. He was trying to give me his phone number and then picked up his phone and shook it out the window again. He wanted me to call him! I was so embarrassed and yet laughing at the same time. Plus, since we were driving in steady morning traffic, there was no way to get away from him.<br /><br />He was being utterly ridiculous and yet so funny. I called my roommate once I got far enough away from him and told her what happened. I told her how I couldn’t figure it out and how I didn’t look like anything special at all. “Maybe he has some librarian fantasy!” She said which made me laugh even harder.<br /><br /><em>Maybe</em>?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1178656235704151704.post-41047120204818452072008-07-28T10:20:00.000-07:002008-07-28T10:48:18.413-07:00Quirky GirlI watched the movie Dan in Real Life this weekend. I am the most picky movie watcher ever. Mostly because I'm really sensitive about what I watch. But I really love me a quirky movie and if the sound track is odd and quirky that's even better. <br /><br />Here is a short list of odd movies that I likey:<br /><br />Dan in Real Life<br />The Station Agent<br />The Baxtor<br />Lars and the Real Girl<br />My Big Fat Greek Wedding<br /><br />The sound track is folky and like elevator music for nerds. I love nerds! I think I might search out the soundtrack this week...<br /><br />On a different note... I also saw Mama Mia this weekend. I most certainly wasted my life in the movie theater as I watched that piece of c-r-a-p. However, I will say this...I do heart ABBA (Leave me alone about the Disco, okay?) and that music was the only good thing about it.<br />The End.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3