The Disney princesses aren’t exactly wild about Mother’s Day . . .
Happy Mother’s Day – for all who have lost their moms, and all those who still have them.
On the way to work this morning, I was listening to La Bamba on the radio and, as usual, singing along even though I not only don’t really know what he’s singing about in English, I don’t understand for sure what Spanish words he is singing. And then I thought, hey, why don’t I try to translate this song despite not knowing what the heck I’m doing in either language? After years of Spanish and English, I could make so many teachers cry silently at once.
Come on, Vamanos. Everybody let’s go!
Spanish version (Espanol, muchachos! Yo rock-o!)
La la la la la la bamba!
La la la la la la bamba!
Necesito un poco de gracia
Una poca de gracia
A mi fatia
Arriba arriba por ti dicen
Por ti dicen
(next verse, I’m worse than the first!)
Yo no soy no dinero
Yo no soy no dinero
Soy capitan, soy capitan
La la bamba
La la bamba
La la bamba
(repeat lines a few more times, no one will notice, they’re still singing “bamba bamba”)
And now to make you cringe even more, here comes my English translation!
English version – Yay yay yay dumb Anglos!
The the the the the bomb!
The the the the the bomb!
I need a little thanks
A little thanks
Yay yay for your talking
For your talking!
(He wanting thanks for making the bomb, or for defusing it? Yay yay!)
I don’t have any money
I don’t have any money
I am the captain
I am the captain
The the bomb!
The the bomb!
The the bomb!
(I’m guessing at this point the bomb blows up thus ending the song? Maybe if he wasn’t a broke captain, he could have stopped the bomb, which clearly was not defused.)
So what do you think? Are you thinking I might have goofed up some of the lines? Or rather accidentally gotten one or two right? Who knows? La la la la la bamba, amigos!
Lo siento, mi profesoras.
It’s been a while since I’ve visited this series, a series some say rivals the Lifetime network in nonsensical plotlines and use of plastic. No nakey dolls here, though, so look for your sexy pony pics elsewhere.* Anyway, I already introduced our main family, the Kristoferrsons, who include Kristoff, Anna, and their four kids. I forget their names but one was named after the reindeer, Sven.
Obviously we have other princesses here, like Belle and the former Beast guy who is now not nearly as interesting, and their children, one of whom is a a little beastie herself. Belle is stuck teaching not only children but a continuing education class for the princesses with stunted intellectual growth (it’s a full class). Ariel and Eric have a beach-side house complete with pool and BBQ grill, but Eric is stuck on an all seaweed diet until he gets out to party with the other princes, who should never be allowed to watch their own children. Aladdin and Flynn are great pals and love to have adventures that frequently force their wives to bail them out of jail. When they feel like it. But I digress. I’m talking about Auntie Elsa today, the single I-don’t-need-a-man chick who is totally comfortable in her own skin.
Until she tried on Maleficent’s dress and went off the deep end. Again.
Good thing Anna saved the day, there. Elsa is much better now, but banned from the thrift store. Also the mall and the grocery store, but those are stories for another day.
Speaking of stories, is there anything you’d like to see the princesses do next? What family would you like to see? Do you want me to stop playing with my dolls? Because my counselor says it’s okay as long as they don’t talk back to me. Anyhoo, let me know what ya think.
*Sexy pony pics used to be a common search word on my blog.
In case you missed it somehow, I dig that movie Frozen. The funny thing is, I’ve only watched it twice (I swear! No word on how many times I’ve heard one of the songs). I also love collecting the dolls along with my kids. I got a new Elsa – she’s so fancy, everybody knows, cause she’s got a fancy outfit, and a fancy price. But anyhoo, she’s also quite flexible if you TAKE HER OUT OF THE BOX. I mean, really, what else do you buy and then just leave in the box forever? I don’t get it. You’re supposed to play with them. Studies show that if more people just played with dolls, they wouldn’t be playing boom boom with guns and accidentally shooting their pals during drunken hunting trips. Or becoming vice president.
But moving on. Even if you haven’t seen the movie at all, you can’t help but know some of the songs because they are played over and over. And over. In one of them “Do you want to build a snowman?” Anna sits outside of her sister Elsa’s door for like thirteen years or so, asking her to come out and play. Anna doesn’t take a hint easily. Anyway, I was wondering if, while Anna was out there running around the castle aimlessly and banging on her door, or sitting at her door, or leaning up against her door, what was Elsa doing in her room?
Well it just so happens there was a hidden camera in her room (probably set there by a relative of that creeper Hans) that caught some of Elsa’s moves on camera. Let’s check them out, shall we?
My parents locked me in my room cause I have freezing powers and my little sister has spent the last decade slamming her body into my door and screaming at me to go play with her. It was all her fault I froze her brain in the first place. I’d thank you to please answer my letter this time instead of telling me to “please seek help”. That’s why I WROTE you. Jeez.
I am trying to practice Yoga to help with my little problem. I keep freezing my Yoga mat and slipping. Also when I do headstands, the blood rushes to my head and and I get brain freeze. Should I give it up?
Gymnastics is really tough. I can do a mean splits, but it doesn’t appear super elegant in my wool dress. My parents will not buy me a leotard despite being a king and queen. They are unfair, especially since they let Anna ride a bicycle through the house while standing up. I heard her crash into the stairs the other day.
My parents went away on a two week trip, so I did a little dance. It’s hard to dance in this dress. I don’t dare go out, yet, because my sister just told me our parents mysteriously died in a shipwreck. I don’t believe her. I think she is possessed.
I don’t actually play with ponies. I am a collector. I just think they’re nice, is all, and magical, and sparkly, and express the true meaning of friendship. Also I think they are spiritual talismans that can ward off evil. I plan on stringing one around my neck before I face my sister.
I’m tired of this buttoned up look. I decided to show off a little shoulder today. Look out, world.
Oops, some wind blew up my dress the other day. I have some pretty nice legs. I wonder if my powers could go into dressmaking? Did I tell you I created a living snowman back when I was four?
P.S. I think I’m finally ready to leave my room. You can call off the restraining order now.
So anyway, for those of you at all familiar with the movie – what do YOU think Elsa was doing behind the door? Also, do you think maybe Anna is secretly evil? Here’s a video that might give you second thoughts.
Okay, so the last post was like, serious and stuff, and that makes me really uncomfortable, so back to the stupid crap I usually post. Hooray?
Right, so the girls and I were watching some videos last night and there was this lady that did the entire song “Belle” from Beauty and the Beast herself – there are a lot of background singers in it. And then the tune was stuck in our heads. So we went around sing -talking everywhere. And we couldn’t stop. It was too much fun. Here’s the video so you can get the tune stuck in your head. Then look down for our samples of fabulous singing lyrics.
Oh WordPress editor
I hate you so much
Why can’t you be just like before?
With the boop boop beep bop crap
And the settings I don’t get
I really want to smash you into bitssss
Looook here I’ve found some lauuuundry
If I close my eyes it dis-a-ppears
Thennnnn I don’t need to do chores
Until I figure out I have no clothes to wear
Oh look I see that the trash can is full now
It’s time for you to take it out
Go and get your shoes
And dump out that old news
And don’t forget the liner this time Things!
Oh hey I think it’s time for prayer now
Your dad wants me to shut my mouth
But I really can’t give in
I know it is a sin
Maybe we could just sing the whole prayer this time?
Bonjour good night, It’s time for bed now!
Bonjour, good day, I’m wide awake
Why can’t I sleep when it is time to?
Now -I -know-I-will-be-tired-all-day
I want much more than this same old job!
But they don’t pay you just to be a sloooob!
And so on and so forth. The fun thing is that you can do it with any song. Since I have way too much knowledge of Disney songs, I’ll try another one, from The Little Mermaid “Part of That World”.
I want to be
where the cool kids are
I wanna see
Wanna see ’em gossip
Walking around like they’re
What’s the word? Jerrrrrrks
Got any song lyrics of your own? Want me to do more? Because I can and I will do it all day. I just don’t think I’m feeling well. You can ask me to shut up. But I’ll still spill my guts. Your only choice is to run from my blooog.
I have to say, guys, I am on a roll here with this Facebook news. All this time I had no idea some of this news was even happening, since I seem to keep missing TLC’s weird shows in the line up. I’m always in time for the wedding shows. How many times can they talk about a wedding dress? There’s not much humor there. Oh, look, today we have some moron with more money than sense (or with parents who qualify) taking an entourage of people with her to find a dress for her wedding day. And the dresses MUST start at like 10,000 dollars or you might as well wear a garbage bag. And it’s important to have both the dress shop owners AND your family members repeatedly insult you about your choices – like an episode of Maury only with more fashion. This is not at all like what happened on the last 1,000 episodes.
And since this is obviously so fascinating, TLC must have dozens of shows about the exact same thing – wedding dresses. And then they must show them in a marathon. Until your brain bleeds. Really, TLC, I have more important stuff to watch. Like shows about the lady with Freddie Krueger nails and the eternal Santa Claus looking for love. Or all those zany mishaps ending people up in the ER. Or the baby powder snorters. And of course there are the baby-making shows. Either shows about who can pop out the most kids, how many babies they can fit inside them at one time like a gumball machine, what size those kids are (if you can do it with average size adults, it can be done with little people too), how the kid was born in a forest or a car or on the sidewalk beside a daycare (all true), or how people can have twins without even knowing they are pregnant. I’m not sure if the one about the mom and her teen being preggers at the same time is still on, but it wouldn’t surprise me.
Speaking of fascinating births, we have our latest bit of Facebook news, and it is totally blowing Alyssa and her breastmilk out of the water, er plane.
Wow. What can I say except – hey, Americans, you are totally letting us down here. We have to go to Berlin to find someone this whacked out crazy. I mean getting pregnant with quads is weird enough, but when you’re eligible for social security? And you already have 13 children, the oldest of which is 44 and too old for having babies herself?
I try to peer into the mind of someone like this. Why would you want another baby at that age? She has 7 grandchildren. Those are the best. Take ’em for a while, give them loud, obnoxious toys and fill them with sweets, then send the home. Yet she wants more of her own. Couldn’t she like, adopt some puppies? People don’t frown if you occasionally put those in a kennel. Or baby dolls! They have lifelike ones and I’ve seen some people on TLC who drag them along in real strollers like actual children which is whack, but not as whack as four real babies at 65. Saying they all survive. There seems to be a contest for people to have the most babies at one time so they can score reality shows and stock in Huggies. But the thing is, we aren’t dogs. We’re people. We’re not actually meant to have litters. Technically, even a twin pregnancy is high risk. So – someone needs to take away this lady’s access to baby-making tools before she and all her children are in diapers together.
There were a lot of comments on this article. Some say she is selfish since she’ll probably die and leave the babies without an insane mother. I say she wants her 15 minutes of fame. And guess what? She’s got it! If she can just toast those babies a few more months in there, she could get a reality show for sure. Move over Kate plus 8. We’ve got Geriatrics plus 17. Three more and she could outdo Michelle Duggar, who only has 19 of the little buggers. Maybe she could get married too – she’d need a wedding dress! And if she married a little person, our story would be complete. As long as they make sure she has the quads out in the woods or something.
This is Alice, your Facebook reporter, signing off.
I was chatting with my old pal Merbear and her hubs when Mer noticed another IMPORTANT NEWS ARTICLE on Facebook. Apparently Alyssa Milano was getting on an airplane and someone confiscated her breastmilk. OMG. STOP THE PRESSES. This is Alyssa Milano, people, and clearly they did not recognize that she was, HELLO, on that show with the witches that lasted like dozens of seasons somehow AND “Who’s the Boss” back in the 1980s. I remember the episode where she picked out her first training bra with a pink bow. And now here we are, coming full circle back to the boobs.
And there are several boobs here, as you’ll soon see. Now I’m not going into a breast vs bottle debate or breastfeeding in public or any of those other first world problems we have going on around here cause I like to keep this a lactivist-free zone. I’m also not arguing that it was not incredibly moronic to take breast milk, even if the rules do say take away liquids cause once a terrorist once tried to use liquid to blow up a plane. I mean, it’s breast milk, and I highly doubt it carries explosives. If so, I have to say I’d be very impressed and much more keen to call breastfeeding a true “super power”.
I don’t know the exact airport guidelines for liquids anymore, and I didn’t want to look it up, especially since a lot of airline personnel also don’t really get the guidelines either. They’re just doing their jobs, which, like most jobs, make no common sense. I mean, it’s not like terrorists get together in little conventions every few months and share their tips and strategies.
Terrorist One: Hey, man, I heard this dude hid a razor in his shoe and hijacked an airline.
Terrorist Two: Cool stuff. Let’s do that from now on. They will never suspect a thing!
Still, we take our shoes off at the airport because, well, maybe some terrorists really are that stupid and by golly, we are going to catch them. As well as a lot of irritated people just trying to make their flights, like say little boys whose names happen to be on the no-fly list.
But that’s the thing – it’s an irritation. The truth is that we really don’t know how to fully prevent terrorists cause they tend to change their strategies like the little sneaks they are, but people want you to do something, so you do what you know. And it bugs people. But it has yet, to my knowledge, caused anyone to say starve to death or go without medical care.
Whoops, did I forget Alyssa? God forbid. Now I don’t blame her for being ticked that someone took her special milk. I mean, she pumped that stuff from her own bod, and it was for her bay-bee and they just, like took it. That bites. I could see writing a nasty letter to the airport. Or griping about it to friends. Starting a twitter campaign that is then picked up by SEVERAL media outlets . . . not so much.
My friends and I pondered in our hearts about Alyssa’s problem. First off, we admitted that we had no idea she even had a baby – talk about OUT OF THE LOOP. We worried for poor Alyssa’s baby. It’s not like Alyssa can make more of that stuff, like it just comes right out of her boobs or . . . wait. But that’s not the point. The point is that Alyssa Milano’s breast milk is a special commodity, probably made from sparkly unicorn dust. Which means they likely didn’t use it as creamer in the tea or coffee they offer. I bet they sold it on Ebay! You know someone would buy it. But only with a certificate of authenticity. When you buy actress breastmilk, you want to make sure it’s gonna make your baby spoiled, entitled, and rich. What if, say, you got Lady Gaga’s milk instead? I shudder to think of it.
Here’s a snippet from an actual article from USA Today:
The actress, who is mom to son Milo Thomas, 3, and 7-month-old daughter Elizabella Dylan, tweeted that 10 ounces of her breast milk had been confiscated. “Gone,” she said. “Not okay.”
And even worse, apparently it was thrown away.
OMG the HORROR. So they didn’t sell it on Ebay. What a waste. Poor Elizabella. She’s already confused about her name, now her food’s gone. Another article stated:
Alyssa Milano: The airport took my breast milk.
Am I the only one who thought of that movie line? Dingos ate mah ba-by! Now that’s some news right there. If dingos got Alyssa’s baby, I would be very concerned. Especially if she was on an airline at the time. Maybe the airports should stop playing with breast milk, and start keeping an eye out for dingos.
Cause you just never know what could be the next trending news.
Before I start this post, I’d just like to say this new editor sucks. Seriously sucks. And now I can’t find where to go back to the old one anymore. WordPress, you suck. Where the hell is the old editor? If I see one more boop beep bop I’m gonna blow.
Okay, done – for now, saying this post even posts since it’s on this new stupid editor arghhhhhhhh.
Okay, so I don’t watch the news much because it is really depressing and stupid, and I get enough of that in real life. Also in fiction, seeing as authors, even kid authors, have decided to kill off main plot characters for funsies. Like, what the hell is that about authors? It’s not dramatic, it’s just being a jerk to your readers. I mean, sure, you gotta kill a few off but that’s what red shirts are for – you know, the guys on Star Trek that they took down on the away teams to alien planets who were not listed in the opening credits so you knew they were gonna die? Put in more of those guys. Fiction is for escape, not further punishment. Make a note. Try something funny for once, for God’s sake.
But back to the news, right, that’s what I was talking about. Because it’s way weirder than any fiction.
I only see news on Facebook since I’m on there chatting with people. Suffice it to say, it’s an even weirder way to get news since I”m only getting what Facebook considers trending news. It might be as bad as what Fox News considers trending. Speaking of Fox, number one trending news item today (I swear I’m not making up the order or anything here):
Rand Paul: Kentucky senator formally announces 2016 Presidential Run.
– Oh, goody. Is there some way I can just take a sleeping pill and wake up when the election is over? Cause it’s already getting painful. By the way, it’s Rand, not Ron his dad, though both are Libertarians disguised as Republicans and as we all know the Libertarian party is best represented by a unicorn, according to my other news source, blogger List of X. Still, he’s a better choice than Cruz who has a Hispanic name so boo-yah, the Repubs have a ethnic! Just kidding, he’s white.
Elmwood Park, New Jersey: 100 year old man killed wife with an ax in murder – suicide, officials say.
– Is it wrong that the first thing I thought of upon reading this headline was – wow, he can swing an ax at 100? That’s pretty darn impressive.
Burger King: Company to pay for wedding of man named Burger and woman named King.
– Yeah, really, this is what came after the murder-suicide. I wonder if the wedding will be catered with burgers and fries and officiated by that creepy Burger King mascot. I would love to go to that wedding.
Sebastian Inlet State Park: Photo purportedly shows bobcat dragging shark on Florida beach
No word on whether the bobcat is planning on a 2016 presidential run, but he has my vote.
And finally . . .
Marilyn Manson Musician reportedly hit in face after argument at Denny’s.
What happens at Denny’s, stays at Denny’s. Unless you are Marilyn Manson, who may also be planning a 2016 Presidential run. I wonder if he ordered the Grand Slam?
Okay enough news for today! Got any good stories of your own? Or a way out of this BLASTED EDITOR? Where’s a good bobcat when you need one?
For a long time now, I’ve felt like I was struggling to get through a desert. Choking on dust, slogging through sand, extreme heat and cold, walking into cacti (I’d probably do this in a real desert), falling into craters, running scared from those creepy sand worm things you see in the movies. It’s not real. I know it’s not real, it’s not even logical, but it’s there. I’ve made this trip every day for over a year. Three hospital visits, dozens of drugs, tons of time missed from work – I’ve had respites, mirages that seemed so real. But I always return to this damn desert.
I’ve run a long time. Sometimes it’s from the anxiety causing (I’ll say) sand worms. Other times it’s running toward something – the cure. Surely there is some pill, some treatment, something, that is going to cure me and make me all better and normal and functional. I run and run and run. Until I can’t run any longer. I look back, but it’s too far to go back from where I’ve come. If all stays as it is, if I continue to run, continue to fear, continue to tell myself “Once x happens, then y= HAPPY”, I’m not going to get anywhere. Already I’ve collapsed several times from exhaustion, ready to just lay down and give up on the desert sand.
Obviously all this mental desert time has caused problems in my “real” life with my husband, my kids, my work, my health (nutrition is pop-tarts right?), my cluttered, sometimes disgusting house (Let’s play what’s that smell today), my finances, and on and on. And I’ve tried to solve these. Or hoped that a new med or therapy would give me the ability to solve them. ALL OF THEM. As Allie Brosh, author of the blog Hyperbole and a Half and a fellow sufferer, would say “CLEAN ALL THE THINGS”.
It doesn’t work. It’s too much pressure. You will drown. Even in the desert.
So I told my therapist about the desert. And she said something simple. “Build a tent.”
Don’t focus on “cures”. Don’t focus on what’s behind you. Don’t focus on what’s ahead. Just keep hanging in there – exactly where you are right now. Use whatever “coping” mechanisms you can, and I don’t just mean “deep belly breathing” or making gratitude lists (Thank you so bloody much for depression.) No, use YOUR coping mechanisms, anything that makes you able to make it through another hour. Some of mine are getting away somewhere that I can cry alone (especially while trying to tolerate work) hot cocoa (it soothes my nerves), soft socks and this sweater / throw rug my friend gave me. And my Things of course, they are my two favorite things.
So I’ve stopped. I have my tent, and my goodies, and I sit and I peek out occasionally. I am counting down the days (three weeks now) until I can visit a shrink who is not a total jackass. I’ve gotten a small increase on one of my meds from his nurse who is not a jackass. I’ve missed work, gotten time without pay, and gone home and napped. I missed half a day today, and woke up depressed. Sleeping that much is not a good coping skill. Naps are good. Hours and hours, which leads to hours and hours up at night watching Lifetime and infomercials (I can lose 80 pounds without exercise if only I do extreme damage to that heart thingy!), is not good. I need good sleep. Without it, even the tent shakes.
So I just have to focus on day by day. I hope I can stay at work, because being at home is not much better. If anyone has tips for handling depression at work that do not have to do with breathing (trust me, I’ve heard it), please feel free to offer them. I thought a lot about just quitting, but realizing today how bored and sad I get at home (especially whilst playing the “what’s that smell” game), I know I need my job, and for more than just the income. I also need to know what I want. If I sit in the tent instead of constantly racing and racing, my counselor says it will come to me.
What do I want – in work, with my husband, with my kids, with family, with my house, with my life. What do I really want? I don’t know right now because I am too blinded by everything else, all the hurry and worry and sad and sick. If I can just sit in my tent, can I just sit and thinks? What do I want (besides getting well). I hope I can find it. But I can’t rush it. The knowledge of what Alice really wants will only come when I stop looking.
So I have to stop. Take comfort in the tent. Survive. And listen to that voice in my head. Not the mean, depressive one.
The one that belongs to Alice.
I told you guys earlier about a contest where you could win a book personally touched by Merbear – or possibly licked, I’m not sure. I should check that out cause it totally affects the value. Anyhoo, it’s a Beatles book and you want to win it because WIN.
I will give you guys a chance though you really don’t have one. Not with this incredible entry. Observe and be amazed.
I chose the song “Good Day Sunshine” cause that sounded
easy challenging. Here are the lyrics, and they are awesome, cause Beatles:
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine.
I need to laugh, and when the sun is out
I’ve got something I can laugh about,
I feel good, in a special way.
I’m in love and it’s a sunny day.
Okay, so I was thinking, sunshine, good day. What am I gonna do with THAT? I mean, am I a wizard or what? Then I realized – hey I could draw a sun. Like totally. And it mentions LOVE and no one emphasizes LOVE like those jerkwads on Twilight, and also, if there was sun, then Eddie would sparkle,which would be even better. And then I would put the Beatles in the sun because if they can hang out with Lucy in the sky with diamonds, why not inside a blazing sun?
I know, it’s so impressive you can hardly tear your eyes away. Note how I not only added sparkles and a giant flower, but there’s also a tiny yellow submarine. GET IT? I’m a gonna sit back now and bask in the awesomeness. Good day, maybe sunshine, even if my car smelled like wet dog this morning.