A Ceremonial Flush

When we lived in Michigan, Kade was about two years old. At the time, I'd gotten a beta in a pretty bowl to help spruce up our apartment. I can't remember the name of this fish, but it must have been something grand like Prince Colorful, King of All Fish... or maybe it was George. I don't remember. After we moved back to Illinois, I gave that fish to my mother, being that I didn't think it would survive in a Ryder truck on a ten hour drive. And so it was, that we lived a fishless existance.

Until last week, that is. Kade went with this Aunt to a church function. He came home with a minnow that he'd caught. He declared it was a goldfish, but I knew better. He was quite proud that he'd caught it by hand. So I put it a decorative bowl and bought some fish food. He named it Greyg, because it was grey. To be honest, I bought goldfish food, because what does one feed a minnow? I don't think he ate it, because the very next day, Kade came and asked me, "How long do fish sleep, because Greyg's been asleep all day."

That's when I had to explain that he wasn't sleeping. Poor Greyg. Kade was disappointed, although he took it well. Chris came home and promised Kade that we'd get him a new one and he'd be Greyg 2. Then the boys gave it a ceremonial flush. And my son, having been on more than one mission of a fallen soldier, gave his little pet a salute.

Later on, he came to me, a little worried. "What will happen to Sasha?"

"Nothing, Kade. Sasha is fine."

"I hope so, because if she dies, I really don't think she'll fit down that toilet."

A Moment In Time

My husband had two missions last Saturday. I didn't go. I could've gone, but I didn't, because I didn't think I could handle it. Some ass-crack of society decided to write to a newspaper that he was pissed that the Patriot Guard held up traffic, so that all the motorcycles could go through. He said it was as if anytime the Patriot Guard came to town that he felt they threw away all the rules. I read this guy's letter to the editor. And naturally, I felt that tingling in the back of my neck. The kind of tingling that makes the blood rush to my head, until I see nothing but red. And Chris, having known what kind of effect the letter had on me, told me why he gave it to me to read.

Apparently, since my last verbal bashing to a Galesburg newspaper, people started emailing him asking when I'd write again. Asking if I'd take this guy on. I would have, I'd mentally written it all in my head. The very next day, someone beat me to it. I'm happy for that. To tell you the truth, they'd never have printed what I would've said for all the vulgarity it would have been laden with.

Still, I feel the need to say that it isn't throwing away the rules to form a funeral procession. I'm so sorry that someone had the audacity to die and hold up traffic right when this shit-faced pantywaste decided to go for a Sunday drive. IS IT REALLY ASKING TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO WAIT A FEW EXTRA MINUTES AT A STOP LIGHT, SO THAT A FUNERAL PROCESSION CAN GO THROUGH?! IS IT!? No, I really want to know. Someone died and this guy complains that he had to wait? Are you fucking kidding me?

Breathe.

This. And then, I get a phone call from a small voice at the other end of the phone line. He's a Vet at the Soldier's and Sailor's home, which is a block away from my house. All he wants is a meeting. Information. I think, no problem. Then I speak more with him. Turns out, he's in the infirmerie. Turns out, he's not happy with the VFW. He has heard about the Patriot Guard and wants to meet with Chris because he fears he doesn't have long. And he wants someone to be there to honor him. Somehow, I managed to choke down the sobs long enough to set up a time for Chris to go.

If people only knew what their words meant. If only the guy that wrote that letter to the editor could hear the voice of a man planning his own funeral. It doesn't take anything to stop and give a few moments of respect. It doesn't cost anything. It really isn't a convenience. It might be annoying to you, but for one man, it may mean all the difference in the world. Is that really asking so much?

Crystal Inspirations

All right, so I haven't pimped anyone in awhile. This time I get to pimp someone I knew before blogland. Meet Rachel. She designs home-made custom jewelry. I don't even wear jewelry and I can see myself buying some of this stuff. Very pretty.

So all you ladies and even you gents should go check out http://www.crystal-inspirations.com/. You boys can get some custom sparklies for your number ones. Of course, you know that I am open to accepting anonymous gifts... *smiles sweetly* Tch, fine. You don't have to buy me anything. Just check her out and tell her Ari sent ya. Otherwise, I'll beat you with a toothpick and that could take awhile.

I haven't lost my pimpage powers.

Oh and if your name is Chris and you have my wedding band on your finger, I really like the Amethyst Swarovski Crystal Royal Design Slider Bracelet and the Rose Czech Glass Cross. I'm just saying.

Now given that I've given her an uninterupted pimp all of her own, I do expect a good turn-out. Don't disappoint me, people. You know I luff you guys. Give Rachel some props.

OMG

So I was over at Bobby's and I happened to read something very interesting. Charles, you might wanna read this, hon.

http://brolli0120.blogspot.com/2006/07/big-six-o.html

Wow. Just... wow.

Twilight Thoughts

Quite often, I put myself to the test in my own mind. Worst case scenarios, irrational situations, little tidbits of conversations, they are all reflected upon, even if I don't let it all out for the world to see. The latest in my ever-expanding getting-to-know-myself category, was a question I posed to myself. What would the world be like if I had never been in it? Now, at first glance, one might think this is nothing but an entry designed solely to inflate my own ego. I do so love it inflated. It has a bouncy-like effect on my mood. Honestly, these are the types of things I ponder as I tuck my ass into bed at night. And really, who doesn't like an over-inflated ego before bed?

The truth is that the answer may not be as great as I'd like. I haven't changed the world in any way. So I can't really answer this question on a grand level. Instead, I must look to all those that I have affected, good and bad.

Oh sure, people in my immediate life would know instantly the difference. Still they are but a few, because I am loathe to let too many people in. Even people I've known for quite some time think they know me, but really don't. Yes, I can be a hellcat, but I'm not always that way. I'm not always politically correct, if at all. Sometimes I keep my opinions to myself, because I know they're unpopular. Sometimes I want to say so much, but don't, because I can't get the words out. People can only go on things I have said or done. And that's a scary thought.

Well, I don't know that I've ever said anything truly profound, nothing worth quoting anyway. I may have done a few nice things for people here and there, but I can't say it was anything noteworthy. Perhaps the world would be a little less sassy. I am good for mouthing off. I need to start watching my mouth. It's going to get me in trouble one of these days. I am always good for a joke. And when humor is concerned, I rarely get offended. So there's that. I like it when people smile and on the same token, I can't let a person cry alone. Maybe someone out there will appreciate that. I can't think of who at the top of my head, though.

Now I've come to a point where I really don't know the answer. I think I have found a question that even I can't answer. I could just flake out and say that the world would be a little less "Ari", but in order for that to be true, I'd have to define who Ari is. I don't want to define myself or have others define what they think of me. I think to do such a thing would lead to an inevitable loss of self. Thus I have discovered that I can't change the world. Not on a global scale, anyway. If I did, people would most definitely want to define me then. So if I were to ever want to make a name for myself, I'd have to do it anonymously, which defeats the whole point.

Right before I fell asleep, I came to a conclusion. Perhaps it doesn't matter what the world would be like without me. Perhaps I don't need to be remembered. And maybe, I shouldn't have eaten that donut before bed. Yet, for all the good I've done, there's bad to go right along with it. I think I cancel myself out. In the end, maybe I'll just be a murmur on the wind that only a few can hear.

Tired

Some days I truly wish I did have ice water running through my veins.

There are always two...

I do have a secret. One I just can't hold in any longer. I've tried to keep it hidden down deep, but my ego just won't let it go. Before I say what it is that I know, I do beg one question from you all.

Did you really think Omz and I could divide and war against each other? Fear.

Yeah, that's me under there, somewhere...

And now the fun really begins.

The force is strong with this one

I've felt the sway the last few couple of days. Dark moods, dark thoughts, but now I'm back to my usually sassy self. Onto other things...

Thanks to Stephaine for creating this graphic. I'm quite impressed and delighted. I think my terminator face is sexier than Omz's. Be jealous, be very jealous.

Secrets

I'm finding myself in a strange place today. I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I don't feel normal. And the truth is that there is a secret lurking somewhere, waiting to be revealed. Secrets are always dark things, I think. Or I guess, that's how I feel. Dark mood. I keep thinking of that one lyric "Everyone has a secret, can they keep it? Oh no, they can't."

Here's the song it came from:

Watch the sunrise
Say your goodbyes
Off we go
Some conversation
No contemplation
Hit the road
Car overheats
Jump out of my seat
On the side of the highway baby
Our road is long
Your hold is strong
Please don't ever let go Oh No

I know I don't know you
But I want you so bad
Everyone has a secret
Ohh can they keep it
Oh No they can't

I'm driving fast now
Don't think I know how to go slow
Oh Where you're at now
I feel around
There you are
Cool these engines
Calm these jets
I ask you how hot can it get
And as you wipe of beads of sweat
Slowly you say
"I'm not there yet!"

I know I don't know you
But I want you so bad
Everyone has a secret
Oh can they keep it
Oh No they can't

Secrets - Maroon 5

Don't read that the wrong way. I'm not lusting after anyone other than my guy. But that one line... yeah. Can a secret be kept? I don't know. I guess time will tell.

Just a reminder

New song. Reminder for those who seek to challenge...

The homeless man

I saw the homeless man, again. He was walking down the street, looking quite marvelous. Apparently, I'm not the only one that recognized him, as a few cars honked. He waved and smiled at them, then continued on his way.

This made me smile. It's good to know he's okay. I don't really know him, but I did worry about him a lot this winter. I wanted to take him blankets and fruit, but I couldn't find him anywhere. I think he's in league with my Ninja postman. This spring, I saw him on the side of the road with a "will work for food" sign. That's when I got an idea.

When Chris got home, I asked him if I could have one of his business cards. He said he was out of them, which simulaneously bummed me out and ruined my idea. I told him I wanted to send the homeless man in for an interview at Chris' store. Chris said, "You already spoke to him, didn't you?"

"No. I just saw him."

"He came in, today. You had to have spoken to him."

"He did?! Brilliant! But no I just saw him, that's all."

"Unfortunately, I couldn't offer him a job. My positions are all filled, hon. I can't make up a position in order to hire him. Corporate would go nuts."

That's about the time I went on a little rant, which I'm sure made Chris feel guilty. Honestly, I do understand Chris' point, though. As much as I'd like to help this guy, I can't ask Chris to break the rules.

So it's been a year and I have been unsuccessful in my helpful attempts. I'm not going to quit, though. One of these days, at the right time and the right place, I will be able to help this guy.

Some things I just need to get off my chest

Sort of a continuation of yesterday's Maria Mena rant...


Dear P. Diddy, Puff Daddy, Sean John, or whatever the hell you feel like calling yourself today,

Would you just pick a f***ing band already?!

Sincerely,
Totally over it.


Dear Donald Duck..err Trump,

How many brown-nosers does it take to NOT tell you that that hair isn't working for ya. You're a douche.

Sincerely,
Not digging it.


Dear MTV,

I think you should personally be held responsible for the next generation's self-absorbed, materialistic and shallow ways. Putting out shows like "Sweet Sixteen", "Next" etc. only teaches kids that people are easily replaced and getting everything you want in life without working for it is the way to go. I hate you.

Sincerely,
Remembering when the "M" stood for music.


Dear Paris Hilton,

Would you be so kind as to eliminate yourself from the gene pool? Please?

Sincerely,
I never liked you.


Dear Judge Dan from "So you think you can dance",

You're not all that. Seriously, you're not.

Sincerely,
I can dance better than you.

P.S. My son thinks the opening song of your show is "Ba da bum da bum dance."

P.P.S. The judge sitting next to you has horse teeth. Really white ones.


Dear Ted Nugent,

I'm starting to believe you can do no wrong.

Sincerely,
Amazed.


Dear Toni Braxton,

Whatever happened to you? Where are you?

Sincerely,
A fan.


Dear Sprint,

You're pissing me off. You promised me that my phone bill would be sixty dollars at the most. You promised me no other fees. I heard one of your employers say that to me on the phone. My bills have been around or over a hundred for the past year. I hate you and I hope your company dies a miserable death. We won't be renewing our contract.

Sincerely,
Disgruntled consumer.


Dear Barbara Streisand,

Yes, I still hate you.

Sincerely,
Just reminding in case you forgot.


Dear Charles,

You rock, man!

Sincerely,
Pimp Mama.


Dear me,

I know you hate to hear this, but the dishes are going to have to be done today.

Sincerely,
yourself.

Googling Fool

On the way to pick up Kade from the park today, I heard a song on the radio called "You're the only one." After looking it up on the web, I found that Maria Mena sings it. Personally, I've never heard the song before, nor have I heard of the artist, but I'd like to say something to her.

Dear Maria Mena,

You're the only one that would write such a crappy song.

The end.

I would play the song for you all, just so you could agree with me that it is completely ridiculous, but

a) the song sucks ass.
b) I'm still fascinated by Judith's milkshake.

While I'm on the subject of looking things up on the web, have you ever googled yourself before? And no I'm not asking about what you do late at night under the covers when no one's watching. I googled my screenname and my name. Apparently there is some other person named Ari that speaks french and uses the word "mechants" a lot. Only, they spell it correctly, as I cannot figure out how to type the accent. Trippy.

Happy 4th of July!!

They came like a tornado...

Yes, I really did come off my vacation for a split second to do the badunkadunk entry. Some things are well worth it.

I'm back now after having sent the last of the visitors off today. I forgot to take pictures. This makes me angry, since my tiny visitors were so darn cute. Don't worry though, I have a lot of cute quotations I'd like to share:

Me: These pants ride too low. I hate it when they fall off my butt.
Keiara (age 3): Your butt's falling off? My butt's not falling off! Nana, is your butt falling off?

After refusing to take off his shoes for bed, little Laramie (age 2) was happier than a pig in shit when I handed him a pair of Spongebob slippers. This is what he had to say: Look at my 'Punbobs!! Look at my 'Punbobs!!

Gabby has a very fitting name in that she does have a lot to gab about. Unfortunately, being that she's only a year old and I don't speak gibberish, I am unable to translate. However, she does sing right before bedtime. It goes a little something like this: Ahhhhhhhhh uhhhhhhhh ahhhhhhhhh uhhhhhhhhh... Usually people just chime in at random intervals to sing with her. As it turns out, it's a very easy song to learn.

I don't have any quotes from Alana, because I don't think she said anything the whole time she was here... Wait, I think she might have expressed her appreciation for all things Tinkerbell, but the jury's still out on that one.

Keiara on death: No Daddy, Cognac's not in doggy heaven, he'll be back later. Cognac's mom and dad will fix him. He'll be back LATER!!!!

Keiara on bathroom etiquette: I'm going to shut and lock the door, so no one will bother me while I'm going potty. This means you!

At one point, I managed to get all four of them in the bathtub at once. Keiara and Alana pretended to give me a manicure, while Gabby thought it hilarious to sit on Laramie's head... four times in a row. For some reason, Laramie wasn't the least bit surprised. She then proceeded to tackle him and pummel him mercilessly with her baby fists. Oh, she's a brute, let me tell ya. Next time she's here, I'll have her try out for UFC.

Keiara: I want Strawberry.
Me: I don't have strawberries. I have watermelon, though.
Keiara: Don't be silly, I want Strawberry!!
Me: I don't have strawberries, hon.
Keiara: Ugh, I mean the movie!
Me: A strawberry movie?
Keiara: Strawberry Shortcake!
Me: Ohhhhhhhh
Keiara: I just can't talk to you.

Gabby has a strange habit of putting things on her head and walking around like that. I'm talking things that don't belong on one's head -- like pants. Why she does this is beyond me. In the bathtub, she tried to put a little fish toy on her head. It makes no sense to me, but after they left, I found that fish toy swimming in my toilet. I almost left it there for posterity's sake. No one really uses that toilet anyway.