RedHead Confetti

You know, I've always wanted to be funny. Part of me wants nothing more than to do stand up-- just once! To make people laugh so hard that their drinks come out their noses, that they piss their pants, that they fall out of their chairs laughing, holding their bellies, rubbing their faces to clear the tears. I have always wanted that. Just once. I've done enough speaking in public, that while I get really nervous, and my voice gets higher and a bit wavery, I figure I could do it. But I'm not funny. That's not to say that I have no sense of humour... I have met people who have no sense of humour, and they're usually pretty dour people. Not because they're mean, or cruel, or anything, but because they just don't see the reason to laugh at whatever has you falling about. I find lots of things to be very, very funny! But those tend not to be the things that stand-up audiences like. For instance, I can't tell a joke about pe...

Should I send my family members warning letters? I mean, my politics are soooooo far to the left of them, that they would probably have a heart attack if they knew I didn't vote Republican, let alone that I'm a Socialist. Over the weekend, I got a Facebook message from my Grandmother. Funny enough, in a "yeah, I know what the hell's going on here" my cousin, who I haven't seen or spoken to in about 15 years "friended" me too. So I said yes to her. I'm waiting for that "unfriending". "[E], please be my friend on FB. I love and miss you. Please comment to me.....Granny" This is the woman who is a missionary to fair-goers; who doesn't understand the first thing about her religion except for "Only Indie, Fundie Baptists go to heaven"; this is the woman who called my Dad son, and yet abused him when her daughter lost her mind. This is the woman, who supported, and helped hide the affair my mother had before she ...

No, this blog isn't about profanity, or words that cause offence to the listener. This blog isn't about whether fuck, cunt, asshole, prick or cocksucker are even insulting, or profane.* I don't really care if you think fuck is worse then asshole, but not as bad as cunt. I never did understand the accepted hierarchy of curse words, to be honest. I don't think fuck is a bad word at all, it's a perfectly good word-- so is cunt-- it's how you use the word that can be mean, or expressive. click to enlarge No, today I've finally gotten around to writing about this list of words I found on Alternet . It's a list of words that the government keeps an eye out for, online,-- you know, Patriot act, and terrorism and all. Reading this list made me want to compose a poem, maybe sonnet style, using these words.I never did get up the initiative , but here's a rambling look into my facilities . Take a good look at this list. Just the first section: Domestic ...

Trigger Warning: This one meanders a bit and is long. I found myself meandering much longer than I initially expected as I let myself think "aloud" about these things. For the sake of simplicity I lump all stories of the paranormal/natural together as a ghost story. This includes faeries, demons, ghosts and everything else. It's just easier that way for me. I discuss my thoughts on ghost story comments, similarities in stories and then share a couple short experiences I've had. There is mockery as well as sarcasm. There is a little thoughtful exposition and a lot of "hmmm". If you can't handle scary stories, then skip this one. I know some people don't like them, and I don't want to cause nightmares. This is part one. Part Two, tomorrow. I've said it before, I love a good ghost story. Every where I've lived I've sought out the stories that happened "just over there, in that building". I love hearing people's exp...

I originally "translated" the Declaration in 2006 as a lark. I made a joke that it was our divorce papers from Britain, and my professor told me I should run with that, and write about it. I thought and thought, and here's the end result. I've updated it as little, done some tweaking, but it's pretty much the way it was when I did it. This is a joke, but it's also a decent explanation of precisely what the Declaration really was: it was justification to the world for turning our backs on our "Mother Country." We had to make it look good, had to have "good" reasons, acceptable ones, for something to horrific and egregious as treason on the grand scale we embarked upon, when we, the Colonies, dubbed ourselves the United States of America.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The Declaration of Independence, in the language of America, 2012: From Congress on July 4, 1776 We all decided, all thirteen of us...

My youngest son is eight years old. He has been in speech therapy since Kindergarten, and every year we have to meet with the Speech teacher to go over the IEP for next year. The IEP, or Individualised Education Program, is a fancy way of saying, "here's where the kid is, here's where we want them to be, and here's how we're getting there". That's it, that's all, it's very simple. So, every year, around about May, just as school's letting out, I go see the SLP (that'd be Speech and Language Pathologist. I've been blessed to have an SLP at both his elementary schools). Some times the physical therapist is present-- as it's pretty standard to work to improve children's fine motor control as they work on their speech. For my son, working with his fine motor has helped him voice his missing sounds, so I would guess that it's that way for many kids. I'd spoken to his SLP a couple times, as this was his first year in the S...

This weekend was crazy busy at my house. First thing Saturday we were up! This is not normal. Usually, given that the kids can get their own breakfast, we let them watch cartoons and we sleep-- until 10ish, usually. Not terribly late, but it's nice to get a little sleep in. But not this weekend. We went to a local nursery and bought some plants. This was after windscreen replacement, picking up two lamps we bought off Craig's List, dashing to get hair cuts, and then dinner. We bought 2= 50 pound bags of special cactus dirt, some gypsum to promote breaking down of the clay soil we have, 2 red yucca plants, 1 baby pomegranate tree and a saguaro cactus! Before we could go home, though, we had to go to Lowe's. See, I didn't own a shovel, and we also needed a pick axe-- something to cut through the clay with! We found a killer deal on those solar lights for your walk, and I'll be installing them today (I'll toss the photos on in a later update). We also found the...

Warning: This blog contains a sports rant. This means there is copious profanity. [For the record, no self-respecting Penguins fan can write or say the word Philadelphia without adding "fucking Flyers". It's impossible. I'm sorry if this offends you. I can't help it! Well, I was hoping to be writing this blog with elation and in celebration as we went into the second round; but alas, I'm writing it after my team has ended their play off run. This year, the Pittsburgh Penguins were tossed out of the play-offs in 6 games by the Philadelphia Flyers [fucking Flyers]. The rounds are "best of seven" so they got to four wins before we did. Frankly, the games weren't all the fun to watch, or listen to. I love love love my radio guy, Mike Lange; he is a hugely entertaining play-by-play announcer. Our "colour commentator" is Phil Bourque, and I love him too, especially the little thing he does before every game: Two Minutes with the Old Two...

I originally wrote the basis for this blog post a few years ago. It started out as an English Lit assignment for our daily journaling, and grew into a funny thought exercise. I've cleaned it up, expanded it some and present it here. It's still an interesting thought experiment, I think. If I can give away a cat, dog, car or movie collection, "free to a good home", why can't I give away myself? Oh, I know I'm worth more than a cat, or dog, or collection of stuff; but the idea remains. We don't, technically, "free to a good home" infants or children in our foster care system; we don't give kids away from "orphanages". There is no "parents, please form a queue and we'll hand out your children" at hospitals. But, what if we could. What if you could place an advertisement in the newspaper for yourself, or your partner. What would you ask for? What way would you describe yourself? How would you describe yourself? All of...