Sung to "This Old Man"
I hate you, you hate me, Barney is my enemy.
AK47 through the floor, no more purple dinosaur.
AND
I love you, you love me, Barney is my enemy.
Put a shotgun to his head, pull the trigger and Barney's dead.
Sung to "Joy to the World"
Joy to the world, Barney is dead.
We barbequed his head!
What happened to the body?
We flushed it down the potty!
And round and round it goes, and round and round it goes.
And round it goes, and round it goes!
Thanks to Ian!
Monday, April 26, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
My Favorite Words
I have two lists of favorite words. The first list of words is small, and it contains words that are fun to say. I like the way my mouth feels when I sound the words. I love the shapes my mouth has to make in order to pronounce those words.
Veritable.
Malleable.
The words on the second list are also fun. They appeal to me because of the way I feel when I say them. One part of the list is empowering; they make me feel strong and in control. Another part just makes me feel good, I like what they are. All of the words on this list are Hard "c" words; either begin or end with the letter "c."
The empowering words only became so within the past couple of years. Before then, they were taboo or bad or naughty or dirty. They weren't spoken out loud or in mixed company, either by a man or woman. But using them; saying them and writing them gave me power over them, instead of holding power over me. They are only words, after all. a string of letters. But I control these words. They mean what I want them to mean, stand what I want them to stand for and convey an image I am projecting. These words will never embarrass me or make me feel small or cheap or somehow worth less than full measure.
Cunt
I've written a post about this word already, but let me tell you, I still take great, great pleasure in using this word; in pronouncing it, using it in stories, saying it during private times and when I'm pissed off.
Cock
Fuck (admittedly, probably my favorite word)
Dick
Clit
Rock
Soak
Spank
Suck
Some of these words came into my vocabulary when I began writing again, eighteen months ago. Yep, eighteen months. That's it. This isn't the entire list of empowering words, but the most prevalent.
Other words include
CARS - I LOVE fast cars!
Cash
Cookies
Coke
Crayons
Candy
CAPtain Morgan
VodKa (okay, it's actually a K; fucking sue me, I still like the way it makes me feel and it's my list!)
music
There are others, but seriously, those words make me smile and feel happy. They are good words. And they're mine.
What are your words?
Veritable.
Malleable.
The words on the second list are also fun. They appeal to me because of the way I feel when I say them. One part of the list is empowering; they make me feel strong and in control. Another part just makes me feel good, I like what they are. All of the words on this list are Hard "c" words; either begin or end with the letter "c."
The empowering words only became so within the past couple of years. Before then, they were taboo or bad or naughty or dirty. They weren't spoken out loud or in mixed company, either by a man or woman. But using them; saying them and writing them gave me power over them, instead of holding power over me. They are only words, after all. a string of letters. But I control these words. They mean what I want them to mean, stand what I want them to stand for and convey an image I am projecting. These words will never embarrass me or make me feel small or cheap or somehow worth less than full measure.
Cunt
I've written a post about this word already, but let me tell you, I still take great, great pleasure in using this word; in pronouncing it, using it in stories, saying it during private times and when I'm pissed off.
Cock
Fuck (admittedly, probably my favorite word)
Dick
Clit
Rock
Soak
Spank
Suck
Some of these words came into my vocabulary when I began writing again, eighteen months ago. Yep, eighteen months. That's it. This isn't the entire list of empowering words, but the most prevalent.
Other words include
CARS - I LOVE fast cars!
Cash
Cookies
Coke
Crayons
Candy
CAPtain Morgan
VodKa (okay, it's actually a K; fucking sue me, I still like the way it makes me feel and it's my list!)
music
There are others, but seriously, those words make me smile and feel happy. They are good words. And they're mine.
What are your words?
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Today's Gripe
I don't know why I feel I must bitch so much, but here's today's gripe.
I need to put together a grocery list and go food shopping. I love going food shopping. I know, that sounds weird, but there was a time in my life when going grocery shopping was a luxury and most of my food came from either my parents' house or the food pantry at the local church. It was only for a couple of months and it happened years and years ago, but the fear of not having food in the house is still real to me, even though my circumstances are radically different. Grocery shopping is something I do not take for granted, and it is not a chore.
My gripe for today: I need to go grocery shopping and I'm not sure that if I do, I'll not be completely wiped out when I'm done. I hate being wiped out more than I love going grocery shopping. That should tell you something, well, a couple of things. The MS is still impacting my daily life and I'm not completely back on my feet again. Neither of which I'm happy about.
Need to work out a Plan B. *grabbing paper and pen*
I need to put together a grocery list and go food shopping. I love going food shopping. I know, that sounds weird, but there was a time in my life when going grocery shopping was a luxury and most of my food came from either my parents' house or the food pantry at the local church. It was only for a couple of months and it happened years and years ago, but the fear of not having food in the house is still real to me, even though my circumstances are radically different. Grocery shopping is something I do not take for granted, and it is not a chore.
My gripe for today: I need to go grocery shopping and I'm not sure that if I do, I'll not be completely wiped out when I'm done. I hate being wiped out more than I love going grocery shopping. That should tell you something, well, a couple of things. The MS is still impacting my daily life and I'm not completely back on my feet again. Neither of which I'm happy about.
Need to work out a Plan B. *grabbing paper and pen*
Saturday, April 17, 2010
New Neighbors
I live in a town home, or, if you are from the Northeast portion of the US, a row home. I've neighbors on either side of me. I've lived here for nine years, and I love my home. It is warm and welcoming and while it is old and not everything is perfect, it is my home.
Over the past nine years, I've seen neighbors moving in and out. The neighbors that were here when I got here were unbelievably great - they were more than patient with my son (who was one year old and felt he had an open invitation to everyone's home) who was active and adventurous. (Read that to mean mimicking gymnasts and circus performers.)
The elderly neighbor on my right eventually moved in with her son and daughter in law, and the other outgrew their home and moved into something bigger. Since then, it's been a series of mishaps and misadventures. Some neighbors were worse than others, but the last to leave were, by far, the worst I ever encountered, anywhere. I called them my "ghetto neighbors." A term not meant to belittle one's socio-economic background, but simply used because I couldn't think of a bad enough name that I could call them around my child.
The mother frequently (read all the time) called her two daughters, then ages three and one, "little bitches." As they got a little older, she moved on to "you little motherfuckers." She would leave them unattended upstairs while she did god-knows-what, then scream at them when they got into her make-up, which they did frequently. She screamed and cursed and threatened to leave them and the guy she lived with. We're talking a true basket case. The guy was only slightly better, but then he went to jail for a year.
I've new neighbors now. They seem normal. They are quiet, their children are behaved and they dress appropriately. The neighbor on the left is a single mom of two kids, a daughter eleven and a little boy, one. He's a doll!
New neighbor on the right has a daughter who's three. One thing to note about right-hand neighbor; she, too, has MS. A much worse case than mine since her speech has been effected and she must walk with a cane. She can't drive. She knows I have MS and how she found out that tidbit of information, I'm not sure; it's not something I talk about.
When my son asked me about her physical condition, I explained to him that she has MS. He became frightened, which is understandable. I wanted to reassure him that I wasn't going to develop other symptoms and wind up with her disabilities, but I couldn't. And that broke my heart. But at the same time, I did tell him that I am healthy and I take care of myself and whatever happens, our lives will still be good. He's been extra clingy, but I expect it to pass soon.
All I can say is, I think this summer is going to be interesting. I'm just hoping it's in a good way.
Over the past nine years, I've seen neighbors moving in and out. The neighbors that were here when I got here were unbelievably great - they were more than patient with my son (who was one year old and felt he had an open invitation to everyone's home) who was active and adventurous. (Read that to mean mimicking gymnasts and circus performers.)
The elderly neighbor on my right eventually moved in with her son and daughter in law, and the other outgrew their home and moved into something bigger. Since then, it's been a series of mishaps and misadventures. Some neighbors were worse than others, but the last to leave were, by far, the worst I ever encountered, anywhere. I called them my "ghetto neighbors." A term not meant to belittle one's socio-economic background, but simply used because I couldn't think of a bad enough name that I could call them around my child.
The mother frequently (read all the time) called her two daughters, then ages three and one, "little bitches." As they got a little older, she moved on to "you little motherfuckers." She would leave them unattended upstairs while she did god-knows-what, then scream at them when they got into her make-up, which they did frequently. She screamed and cursed and threatened to leave them and the guy she lived with. We're talking a true basket case. The guy was only slightly better, but then he went to jail for a year.
I've new neighbors now. They seem normal. They are quiet, their children are behaved and they dress appropriately. The neighbor on the left is a single mom of two kids, a daughter eleven and a little boy, one. He's a doll!
New neighbor on the right has a daughter who's three. One thing to note about right-hand neighbor; she, too, has MS. A much worse case than mine since her speech has been effected and she must walk with a cane. She can't drive. She knows I have MS and how she found out that tidbit of information, I'm not sure; it's not something I talk about.
When my son asked me about her physical condition, I explained to him that she has MS. He became frightened, which is understandable. I wanted to reassure him that I wasn't going to develop other symptoms and wind up with her disabilities, but I couldn't. And that broke my heart. But at the same time, I did tell him that I am healthy and I take care of myself and whatever happens, our lives will still be good. He's been extra clingy, but I expect it to pass soon.
All I can say is, I think this summer is going to be interesting. I'm just hoping it's in a good way.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Music
Music has always been a part of my life; I don't remember a time when it wasn't. While my mom likes music, it was and is my dad that is the big influencer in our house. There were church hymns on Sunday morning, Jim Reeves and Pasty Cline on Saturday nights. There were Polish Kolendy (Polish Christmas carols) and music lessons for years. My mother's contributions were Unchained Melody and Irish songs in honor of St. Patrick's Day.
I grew up listening to everything and anything - from obereks to concertos. Today, my son is carrying on the musical tradition. While my brother first learned music on an accordion (and don't laugh, you've no idea how hard it is to play) which he mastered in three years before moving on to first the electric guitar and finally the acoustic, my son has started on the clarinet. He asked for a guitar for his last birthday, which we bought for him. My brother will teach him, and I'm curious to see how patient they are going to be with each other.
For my son's part, he loves hard rock - Ozzy, AC/DC, Breaking Benjamin and hip hop - Jay Sean, Ludacris, and Trey Songz. He also likes Black Eyed Peas and Bon Jovi. His favorite song, though, is Classical Gas, and he often logs on to YouTube to find classical guitar videos. He appreciates music in all forms, and he's not shy about it. He even goes to sleep listening to music, much like I did at his age.
I'll not be making any Top Five lists or tell you why I like certain songs; my taste is too eclectic and a song I love this month I might be sick of by next month. (The fabulous @karenbrand is thinking of doing just this, and I'm dying to read her blog! You can find it here: http://themadnessofginggorge.blogspot.com/ )
But for this month, this is my son's favorite song:
While this song is mine (for the moment, anyway):
I grew up listening to everything and anything - from obereks to concertos. Today, my son is carrying on the musical tradition. While my brother first learned music on an accordion (and don't laugh, you've no idea how hard it is to play) which he mastered in three years before moving on to first the electric guitar and finally the acoustic, my son has started on the clarinet. He asked for a guitar for his last birthday, which we bought for him. My brother will teach him, and I'm curious to see how patient they are going to be with each other.
For my son's part, he loves hard rock - Ozzy, AC/DC, Breaking Benjamin and hip hop - Jay Sean, Ludacris, and Trey Songz. He also likes Black Eyed Peas and Bon Jovi. His favorite song, though, is Classical Gas, and he often logs on to YouTube to find classical guitar videos. He appreciates music in all forms, and he's not shy about it. He even goes to sleep listening to music, much like I did at his age.
I'll not be making any Top Five lists or tell you why I like certain songs; my taste is too eclectic and a song I love this month I might be sick of by next month. (The fabulous @karenbrand is thinking of doing just this, and I'm dying to read her blog! You can find it here: http://themadnessofginggorge.blogspot.com/ )
But for this month, this is my son's favorite song:
While this song is mine (for the moment, anyway):
Sunday, April 4, 2010
I'm Annoyed
For the next couple of weeks, I'm going to be annoyed. I'm going to be cranky and short-tempered and impatient.
Thirteen years ago I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS). It was confirmed by MRI with my very first exacerbation. At that time, I was told I've a very mild case and in all likelihood, if I didn't tell anyone I have it, no one would guess. And in thirteen years, I've had four exacerbations. Four in thirteen years is a damn fine track record, let me tell you.
The first time, the right side of my face was partially numb. At first, my doctor thought it was Bells Palsy and referred me to a neurologist, where I was diagnosed with the MS. But that was it, just my face. Scary, to be sure. But it didn't hurt. It's not like I lost muscle use. It just felt like Novacain that hadn't totally worn off.
The second "flare up," as I call it, was the worst. I made it worse by freaking out about it, to be honest. My left leg was affected that time. I could still walk, it just felt weak and a little heavier than normal. I didn't notice anything was wrong until I went to pick up my foot to tie my shoe and I kept missing the handrail I was aiming for. (At the time, I worked in a health care facility where handrails were abundant). Four days later the ball of my left foot was a little numb, my shin was tingling, and I was a basket case. I was on neurological pain meds, sleeping pills and steroids. I swore I would never be like that again.
Since then, I've learned how to manage and control myself. I no longer get mad at my body for not being able to keep up. I know I'll not be able to do marathon shopping sprees. I can't window shop. Other than that, not much stops me.
The third flare up affected my leg again, milder than the previous one. I didn't even see the neurologist. I didn't miss time from work.
This time is a little different because something new is involved, my arms. Let me stress this again. I've a very, VERY mild case. I'm typing, for instance. A small portion of my right hand feels slightly numb. My left arm feels a little weak. What I'm having a harder time with is fatigue, the most common and debilitating affect of MS. I'm tired. I'm really, really tired. In the past it's felt like I'd worked a 16-hr. shift by 10:00 am. I've been afraid to drive. This isn't as bad as that, but I'm tired.
What do I do? I rest. I have my books and my iPod and laptop and my bed and my recliner. I sometimes sleep, but mostly I read. I relax. Is this what I want to do? Fuck no. It's gorgeous outside! I want to start cleaning the flower beds. I want to clean the lawn furniture. I want to hose off the balcony. There are a thousand things I'd rather do than kick back in the recliner.
Had this happened in January, I'd have been happier than a pig in shit, so to speak. I'd have an excuse to stay put! Now, I'm irritated.
I know in a couple of weeks I'll feel fine, again. Until then, I'm not going to be quite myself.
You've been warned. ;)
me
PS. If you follow me on Twitter and start treating me differently, I'm going to unfollow your ass.
Thirteen years ago I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS). It was confirmed by MRI with my very first exacerbation. At that time, I was told I've a very mild case and in all likelihood, if I didn't tell anyone I have it, no one would guess. And in thirteen years, I've had four exacerbations. Four in thirteen years is a damn fine track record, let me tell you.
The first time, the right side of my face was partially numb. At first, my doctor thought it was Bells Palsy and referred me to a neurologist, where I was diagnosed with the MS. But that was it, just my face. Scary, to be sure. But it didn't hurt. It's not like I lost muscle use. It just felt like Novacain that hadn't totally worn off.
The second "flare up," as I call it, was the worst. I made it worse by freaking out about it, to be honest. My left leg was affected that time. I could still walk, it just felt weak and a little heavier than normal. I didn't notice anything was wrong until I went to pick up my foot to tie my shoe and I kept missing the handrail I was aiming for. (At the time, I worked in a health care facility where handrails were abundant). Four days later the ball of my left foot was a little numb, my shin was tingling, and I was a basket case. I was on neurological pain meds, sleeping pills and steroids. I swore I would never be like that again.
Since then, I've learned how to manage and control myself. I no longer get mad at my body for not being able to keep up. I know I'll not be able to do marathon shopping sprees. I can't window shop. Other than that, not much stops me.
The third flare up affected my leg again, milder than the previous one. I didn't even see the neurologist. I didn't miss time from work.
This time is a little different because something new is involved, my arms. Let me stress this again. I've a very, VERY mild case. I'm typing, for instance. A small portion of my right hand feels slightly numb. My left arm feels a little weak. What I'm having a harder time with is fatigue, the most common and debilitating affect of MS. I'm tired. I'm really, really tired. In the past it's felt like I'd worked a 16-hr. shift by 10:00 am. I've been afraid to drive. This isn't as bad as that, but I'm tired.
What do I do? I rest. I have my books and my iPod and laptop and my bed and my recliner. I sometimes sleep, but mostly I read. I relax. Is this what I want to do? Fuck no. It's gorgeous outside! I want to start cleaning the flower beds. I want to clean the lawn furniture. I want to hose off the balcony. There are a thousand things I'd rather do than kick back in the recliner.
Had this happened in January, I'd have been happier than a pig in shit, so to speak. I'd have an excuse to stay put! Now, I'm irritated.
I know in a couple of weeks I'll feel fine, again. Until then, I'm not going to be quite myself.
You've been warned. ;)
me
PS. If you follow me on Twitter and start treating me differently, I'm going to unfollow your ass.
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