Monthly Archives: April, 2015

Real Life in Disney Song

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!

Good thing I'm not Cinderella.  No laundry for me!

Good thing I’m not Cinderella. No laundry or trash dumping for me!

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!

It pays a lot more if you marry rich, yeah.  It's better than an MLS . . .

It pays a lot more if you marry rich, yeah. It’s better than an MLS . . .

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

'Dose popular kids dey hate you, just stick with de nerdy crowd!"

‘Dose popular kids dey hate you, just stick with de nerdy crowd!”

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.

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Facebook News with Alice: Alyssa Milano and the case of the stolen breast milk

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.

Just WAIT till Twitter is invented, Dad.

Just WAIT till Twitter is invented, Dad.

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.

Todd, I'm tellin' ya, put the stuff in breast milk.  They'll never suspect!

Todd, I’m tellin’ ya, put the stuff in breast milk. They’ll never suspect!

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.

It's only a matter of time before baby is on twitter too.

It’s only a matter of time before baby is on twitter too.

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.

 

 

The News According to Facebook

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.

Yes, I own this shirt.

Yes, I own this shirt.

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):

Facebook news, now with more Cookie Monster

Facebook news, now with more Cookie Monster

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.

I now pronounce you Burger and King - may I tickle the bride?

I’m available for baptisms too!

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?

A Tent in the Desert

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.

Texas desert.

Texas desert.  Only 1,000 miles to the next town.

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.”

My tent. What?

My tent. What?

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.

Merbear’s Beatle Contest with Twilight, Beatles, and Baby Sun

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.

This book is chock full of info about the Beatles like why they chose the name "beatles" and not say "spiders" or "caterpillars".

This book is chock full of info about the Beatles like why they chose the name “beatles” and not say “spiders” or “caterpillars”.

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.

 

It is summer, and we are all on drugs, that's how we picked out swimsuits out la la

It is summer, and we are all on drugs, that’s how we picked our swimsuits out la la

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?

Ta-Da!

Ta-Da!

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.

Alice