Observations from a waiting room

I saw love yesterday. Love in the form of silence, love in laughter, love in hand holding, love in prayer, love in simple acts of kindness. In a waiting room full of friends, family and co-workers, I saw awe-inspiring concern for another. For the last three days, I hung out in the cardiovascular intensive care unit at Methodist Hospital in Houston, Texas. Each group had a loved one and I considered how many prayers were flying around that room. I felt I was in a sacred place. Not all news was good but the energy was.
My mom underwent heart valve replacement surgery and we hope to see a full recovery. Thanks to all for thoughts, prayers, phone calls and e-mails.

Oscar 2008 Review

Hello All!
Greetings from SkitzoLeezra!

Pre-show thoughts:

Merv Griffin once stated that large heads work well for television. If true, someone get John Travolta his own show because that man is sporting a huuuuge melon! Perhaps the size is amplified due to his spray-on hairline.

Hal Halbrook looks like every cranky old man villain on Scooby Doo.

Miley Cyrus has a weird smirk/smile and I hope that her bright future includes dental braces.

Lisa Rinna wisely stuck to nude color lipstick on that face labia of hers.

Viggo Mortenson was unrecognizable.

Had to mute the pre-show with Lisa Rinna and that Joey the Ass Clown Fatone. Ugh, somebody bring back Joan, sans Melissa!

Keri Russell will age well, mark my words.

Jennifer Garner is pretty, as usual.

Jennifer Hudson - RACK-a-rama!

Everyone must now stop using the word "bling". Just stop.

Helen Mirren, pretty in red and ecru lace gown. Love her smooth cute bob.

Faye Dunaway is a good looking old broad but maybe a bit too long hair, too tight clothing? Your call.

Write it down, Calista Flockheart and Harrison Ford give me the vibe of a couple on the verge of a split. You heard it here first.

Gary Busey was good to confuse Lisa Rinna with questions about herself. I think he planned to throw off her whole rhythm with self absorption.

Heidi Klum is wearing red yet again. What is it, third year in a row?

Cameron Diaz might be a bit too minimal with no gloss, no jewels, no coif. Your call.

Michael Moore seems to have morphed into a large pelican. Lots of fish in that chin pouch.

Okay, Oscar ceremony:

Daniel Day Lewis and Johnny Depp, you should know that the last celebrity spotted chewing gum at the Oscars was Heath Ledger. Something to think about.

Jon Stewart is more relaxed this time around. Good job.

Brad Bird had a funny acceptance speech.

Ugh, the musical performances! This is what gives award shows a bad name. How's about short clips from the film?!

I don't understand Cate Blanchett's gown. The beading in the middle, what is that? And the glitz on the skirt?

Alright guys, if you approach steps with no handrail along with a gal wearing high heels and a long flowing gown, it is CORRECT to extend a steadying hand. Your mothers taught you better.

Enjoy the past winner compilation clips.

TiVo, my life partner, lets me enjoy frame-by-frame reactions.

Owen Wilson's nose reminds me of Joe Camel's. Wonder about receiving oral sex from him . . . .

Ugh, more Bee shit? Jerry Seinfeld is like a freaking carnival barker with that overhyped movie.

Winners, RUN down that damn aisle! Your time is running out!

No way Tilda Swinton had any idea that she would win. Otherwise, she might have applied a swipe of lip gloss or put on earrings. Cute speech.

That French chick Marion Cotillard - awwwww, great thoughts.

From 1928, I have seen 62 of the 80 best pictures. Wow. Have missed 5 since 2000.

Renee Zellwegger's cute short 'do makes me wanna grab the scissors and start snipping my hair. Oh, I remembered the Louisiana humidity. Nevermind.

Nicole Kidman looks good for a 60 year old broad. Except that she is 41. Yikes. Too stiff, too tight, too preternaturally coiffed.

Nice eulogy words for folks that have passed on - "their work is done".

My work here is done. Please post YOUR thoughts.

No thank you required

Last week co-worker Rufus (not his real name) complained of chest pains. Before we could get him to a vehicle, he collapsed. The usual pandemonium ensued, calling 911, getting aspirin, listening to 911 instructions, etc. While waiting for the ambulance, I knelt before Rufus and asked him if he would like me to pray with him. Never will I forget the look on his face. It was pure relief. We held hands and I prayed. Have no idea what I said. But he kept a firm grip on my hand and we stayed that way until the EMTs arrived.

Fast forward a day and Rufus is back in the office, thanking ME for helping him. No, he helped ME. A couple years ago, I wouldn't have the courage to pray aloud. A couple years ago, I would have felt like I was imposing. A couple years ago, I felt someone else was better equipped to intercede but God was at work.

Yesterday, Rufus sent me a bouquet of flowers.

Awwwwww.

My truck beat the hell outta me

Oh, my gosh, if only I had video. Here's what happened:

Engage reverse to exit garage.
Shift to drive to exit driveway.
Roll at idle speed.
Realize that the seat is too close to the steering wheel.
Reach between legs to move seat.
Roll down gentle slope of driveway.
Seat SLAMS forward, crushing my chest into the steering wheel.
Over-react and firmly depress the brake, causing the seat to SLAM backward.
Before I can remove hand from seat handle, the truck AGAIN SLAMS forward knocking the wind out of my lungs and for the second time, smashing my boobs to hell. (Thank God I don't have implants.)

Geez, Louise, it hurt like hell but I laughed my ass off thinking how funny it must have appeared. Did ya ever see that awful horror flic "The Entity" about the demon that raped and savaged Barbara Hershey?

For MY video, I would state that an abusive poltergeist took control of the truck and beat the hell out me.

Would you have liked Al Gore in high school?

My friend Dawn introduced me to her own version of a bar game. She would speak with someone for a few minutes then lean over to inform me just exactly what this person was like in high school. That and a few beers was quite entertaining.
Anywho, found this old e-mail from 2000 in my file yesterday and it still makes me laugh.

------------------------ from me to Dawn--------------------------
Hello Dawn,
I now subscribe to Dawn theory of "High School Image Reflecting on Today" school of thought. After watching a Presidential debate this week, I wanna play the game.

• So tell me, do you agree that Al Gore was a teacher's ass kissing pansy boy
• that hung around with your crowd all the time, occasionally shooting off his mouth?
• And it would be required to kick his ass on a regular basis just to make him bearable?
• And the home room teacher thought he was "such a nice boy"?
• And the only reason you LET him hang around was because he had a car or a swimming pool?

I am interested in your test of the Theory.

Skitzo Leezra

---------------------Dawn answers-------------------------

• Ass kissin' cocky smart guy
• with his nose in the air,
• on the debate team
• was the lead in the school plays,
• sang in the choir who had a group of nerdy girls that thought he was THE SHIT, who he would only abuse
• only hung out with teachers because he felt that the teachers understood him
• felt none of his classmates could communicate on his level
• other than that herd of nerdy groupies, he had no male friends
• none of the rest of his classmates knew he was alive
• in his mind, he was the most popular, well-loved kid in school

I can totally see the car/pool angle but I'm guessing that he would think he was too good to associate with a pack of immature teengagers who he'd eventually show his superiority to by becoming President.

Either way, he needed an ass-kicking!!

Sincerely,

Dawn

Romance, defined

We approach Valentine's Day barraged with television commercials touting overpriced flowers and see stores packed with all matter of pre-landfill gifts. In my small town, little old country church ladies set up tents on the side of the road to sell pre-packaged gift baskets.



To tell the truth, I kinda feel sorry for the men at this time of year. So much pressure is put upon men to pony up for the unimaginative red roses, pay for the stoopid ass teddy bears, spring for ugly heart shaped jewelry and make romantic dinner reservations. Mind you, lots of men NEED prodding to do SOMEthing just this ONE day out of the year but still, do you really want something from your man because he feels pressured?



Once upon a time, I thought myself to be unromantic. First date arrives with red roses and chocolate? Ewww, the chump is trying too hard. Now I realize that I am romantic, just the high maintenance sort. At first glance, it would seem that I am easy to please: no red roses ever, no chocolates, no stoopid stuffed animals, no godforsaken balloons. MY sense of romance is flowers for no reason and nice unexpected gestures indicating that my honey was "just thinking" of me. One of the most romantic things given to me was a pin crafted of the metal cap from a champagne bottle. Sure, the boyfriend turned out to be an alcoholic but that pin was born of creativity and a desire to commemorate our first celebration.



A couple years ago, I heard a local disc jockey touting his demand for a reciprocal day-after- Valentine celebration, complete with, let's say, oral service and a steak. How horrible, I thought. He described walking in to his house and plopping on the sofa and waiting for his promised rewards. The whole scenario was the opposite of romance. After consideration, I realized that his version and the commercialized version are the same. Both are the expected (demanded?) receipts of unromantic and meaningless goods and services.


MY version of romance is higher maintenance that a once a year gesture.
MY version is year 'round.
MY version is more thoughtful.
MY version is a guy KNOWING that red roses will NEVER cut it and that tulips or hydrangeas would be better.
MY version has at least one refrigerated Coca-Cola (in the can).
MY version prefers oil paintings of monkeys over build-a-bears.


Then again, MY version leaves this single girl not expecting anything from anybody this Valentine's Day.

Word of the Day

Today's word is courtesy of Jay Thomas, Sirius satellite radio personality

Pre-landfill noun: all that crap at WalMart and the dollar stores. Usually but not exclusively constructed of plastic. The stuff you usually receive from co-workers and in-laws that don't really like you.

Use in a sentence:
Ugh, my mother-in-law's taste runs to the likes of pre-landfill.

(This is the time of year that you see massive amounts of pre-landfill. Christmas gifts purchased and regifted but still not tossed, Mardi Gras trinkets, sappy and cheap Valentine's Day gifts such as those stupid stuffed bears, etc. Next round of pre-landfill - Easter crap. )

gross

I Gotta Make The Donuts

Doesn't this fat pig alleged terrorist remind you of the Dunkin Donuts guy? Except I would expect Dunkin Donuts to slap a shirt on this guy to cover up that heinous chest hair. Plus, not sure that "Khalid Sheikh Mohammed" would fit on a name tag.

New Orleans blend vodka from Absolut

Yesterday I was wandering the aisles of my local Market Basket grocery and happened upon the display of Absolut vodka's newest infused blend - New Orleans, flavored with mango and black pepper.

Now, I ask you, when you consider a NOLA vodka blend, would you ever combine MANGO and BLACKPEPPER? I didn't think so. The sensory experience you would more likely conjure is the blend of cheap orange juice, cigarette smoke, the heart beating sensation of just dodging a stray bullet and that wonderful only-in-New Orleans brew of what I call French Quarter party gravy: the condensational mix of spilled beer, urine, and vomit. (Party gravy will ruin a pair of shoes.)

Good idea, Absolut, great intention. Not so great research.

Those "I Don't Celebrate Birthdays" People

They suck.
What the ?
Consider the alternative, stoopid.
No birthday? You are dead.
Not celebrating your birthday? You are a selfish igmo.
Don't deny us the cake, ya big dummy.
Put on the stupid hat, blow out the candles and pass the cake, moron.

Raw Chicken Parts Thrown At Mardi Gras Parade

This story has been making me laugh for the last 24 hours.
----------------------------------
Woman Says Chicken Foot from Parade Made Her Child Sick

BATON ROUGE, La. (WAFB) - A five-year-old boy had to be hospitalized after playing with one of the throws his mom says he caught at the Spanish Town parade this weekend. She tells 9NEWS that among all the beads, cups, and doubloons was a real chicken foot, which also happened to be raw. The family is asking for some stricter rules in this notoriously risqué parade.

"We caught all kinds of stuff. We caught stuffed animals, beads, the norm." Tracy Bamburg and her five-year-old son, Justin Scott, were just two of the thousands of revelers who flocked to the popular and most often radical Spanish Town Mardi Gras parade. Sure, like everyone else, they caught all kinds of cool stuff. However, then, Bamburg says a raw chicken foot came flying through the air. "It was cold. I thought it might be real for one second. But after I looked at it and feeling it, I just threw it in the bag," she says.

Thinking it was fake, Bamburg says when she and Justin got home, they decided to have a little fun with it. "We were all touching it, squeezing it, and playing with it." Then, the next morning, reality hit. "My stomach was hurting very, very, very, very bad," the little boy says. "He woke up with 103 fever and vomiting," his mother says.

Bamburg says she had to take her son to the doctor. He seems to be doing better. "It smells rotten, like something had died." The thought of any child playing with it is enough to keep her away from the parade. "I could have easily put it in his toy box and it could have sat there for who knows how long," she says. "I have never heard of anything like this. Had I known, I wouldn't have went."

Spanish Town parade organizer Bruce Childers says throwing raw chicken parts from the floats in this parade is not acceptable. He says if the crew members who did this are caught, they will be banned indefinitely from riding in the parade.

I'm the Happiest Girl in the Whole USA

Hello All,

Last year I met a guy at a Mardi Gras parade and we drunkenly exchanged cell phone numbers and my friend recently asked if we ever talked again. Anywho, no, Jay or James or whatever his name was, did not call me. Uh, maybe telling Jay's friend that I would lick Jay's taint isn't the most charming of approaches. Cross that one off.

Maybe I could use Kay's bar opening line to Drew. "Are you gay? 'Cause you must be since you are wearing an earring and haven't once approached me or my friends and we are the cutest (and only) girls in here."

Lynn met her husband online by smartassing him and making fun of his post, what with the misspellings and lower case use. Ah, love. It is elusive.

Meanwhile I am in the happiest girl in the whole U.S.A.

Every single time that I hear of any relationship strife, I break into Donna Fargo's refrain of "I'm the happiest girl in the whole USA." Last month, my maritally challenged cousin said that she was gonna kick out the husband, lose 15 pounds and get a boob job and then maybe SHE could be the happiest girl in the whole USA. To which, I told her that was not possible, maybe she be the happiest girl on Maria Drive 'cause the happiest girl in the whole USA wouldn't have an ex-husband or divorce woes. So cousin will just have the settle for Happiest Girl on Maria Drive for now.

Content to have (only) a big kitty in my bed,
thrilled to do what I want, when I want,
satisfied to not have children nor in-laws,
enjoying my own silences and own noise,
glad that no one asks me how my day went,
I am,
The Happiest Girl in the whole USA