I spent 2 days home this week ....almost a record run in several months. Now I shall return to work with bird talk. Like baby talk only worse!

Nikster can belt out some funny shit.



We make farting sounds together and then giggle. This is bad when I am in public...it's like a habit to perform this little ritual several times a day. Needless to say people think me a little odd

She recycles stuff really well. She will just stop making a sound and then pick it back up years later. The newly recycled item: the theme song from "the good, the bad & the ugly". I have a constant cowboy movie going on. It's like she just pulls stuff out of her butt and decides to get OCD with it.

We have conversations from time to time.
Me: Nikster
Nikster: huh?
Me: want some dinner?
Nikster: huh?
Me: hungry?
Nikster: yaaah

She does the firing and blowing up sounds from space invaders really well! Usually followed by a farting sound (or the Nextel direct connect beep) and laugh.

I know what I sound like on the phone..."brrrriiing. brrrriiing. Hello, okay, cool, bye. Beep"

She likes to give commands to the dogs. "Bruno...UP. Bruno bathroom. Bruno Quiet. Bruno, Mags." If she sees a toy- she will squeak like a squeaky and when the dogs respond, she laughs her ass off. If the dogs bark, she barks right along side of them.

We play peek-a-boo alot lately. I cover my eyes, uncover my eyes and she says (in a sweet little voice) "peekaboo". We take showers together (she has her own perch) and when I am drying my face is her favorite time to play!

Rob and her whistle the song (no idea what the title is but Foghorn Leghorn whistled it all the time) "campground..something..something...something...something........DOO DAH...DOO DAH".

Sqeaking doors, deadbolts unlocking, metal papertowel holder sliding over our corian counters, microwave beeps....you name it. She will do it. At least the farting sounds are not associated with smell!

She will gladly tell Bandit Man to "shut up asshole" if he begins his bouts of screaming. But she does love her buddy Bandit and sings "rock'a by bandit" every night at 10pm



Nice to be home

There are a couple of things in my life that have always delivered more pleasure than sex.

Yes, you read correctly. Better than sex.

Cleaning the inside of my ears with q-tips after a shower, brushing my teeth and taking a shit after a bout of constipation are the number 1, 2 and 3, respectively, better than sex.

This week I am attempting to add one more (only because I need to make this so outrageously fun to continue on a regular basis).

 

Flossing

Yes, most everyone probably flosses daily but I have never been a flosser.  Once a month or so is the best I can report.

The crap that ends up on the mirror just pisses me off.....you know the crap.  The chicken, noodles or sushi you ate earlier; stuck between your teeth and along comes this little string between your teeth to shpoo the crap all over your mirror.

Marc mentioned Windex to fix that problem.  SURE.  But do I really want to add the habit of flossing and windexing to my daily regime (not to be confused with regimen)?  Nope. 

So, the reason that moved my toothbrush to the shower (cuz I hate the teeth brushing goobers on my mirror just as much as the flossing crap - plus I have an incredible gag reflex and I care not to see myself make that face in the mirror) has become the new locale of floss.

Day 2 in a row that I have flossed while my hair conditioner is doing it's thing in the shower....... and I plan to report a day (pick a really big number) that I am still flossing.  Why now?  Because  I read an article that reported heart disease is (one of the things) related to gum disease. 

I have enough bad habits to cause heart disease, cancer and the possiblity of cashing in on the life insurance that pays out if you lose limbs.   

So GOD, are you listening?  Don't send some fucking bus to run me over.  I am flossing now

Things (finally) got back to normal around here yesterday.

Cops flying past our house, firetrucks belting out the sounds that make dogs howl



helicopters circling the 'hood in search of the bad guys. No drunk dudes passed out on our lawn lately but I had to throw this picture in





Red shuffling past our house (this is not our house thank gawd....only a neighbor's) with his cane. Kicking cans and inspecting trash in hope of a treasure, all but saying "I am so old I fart dust".



And yes, prostitutes walking the street (sorry, didn't have my camera ready)

One particular hooker caught my eye. As she headed in the direction of the Doghouse, I called Marc to come out and get a gander at this one!

Her short tight skirt with slits up the hips telling the world - I left my panties in someone's car. A swing of her hips that says I am for sale.....just in case you missed all the other signs. And a big ole bag of Doritos that she frequently pulls chips from and smacks away on.

The guys across the street stopped digging in the yard to take a gander and she put on her parade wave and licked the Dorito crumbs from her fingers approaching them in hopes of a few bucks. No such luck so she continued on.

The phone call to Marc spawned conversation of the circling helicopter. We both agreed the action was over at Coen Park and we needed a local radio station or something that could give us up-to-the-minute details of the Edgewood haps.

I will be in search of government funding so I can be the self professed "all things Edgewood" reporter and quit my day job to devote my time strictly to finding 'hood happenings.

Of course I will need enough $ to keep my big, bald body guard with me when I am out reporting. He is fearles- even gets in the stolen car that plowed into the house for a photo shoot. I love this guy!

The show, as expected, was amazing. I am still giggling over it a few days later

The line to enter was crazy. It wrapped around the block. Tickets were not available in any form other than through will call, with picture ID, address verification, confirmation number and blood-type verification. Once tickets in hand, the entrance was blocked and everyone had to immediately enter the Tabernacle

We arrive at 5:30pm for the 8pm opening. It took about an hour to get in but we score a great spot- left of the stage along the rail designating "photographers only"

We were not by any means the first ones in. Center stage was full and we had neighbors in our next to perfect spot.

The couple to our right - flew in from DC for the show and were driving to Nashville for the next before returning home.

They guys to our left- drove from Florida for the show and were driving home after the show (6 hour drive). We became friends (naturally being fans) and they had "backstage" privileges to smoke since one guy was in a wheelchair and couldn't go to the downstairs smoking section. As the room packed in, they offered to make me a smoking buddy but they were out of smokes. I gave them my extra pack and we headed out. But the security guard was on to us. He stopped me short of the curtain. DAMN! They came back giggling like school girls. The met Tom on their way back in.

The couple in front of us (also in a wheelchair)- flew in from London and were driving to Nashville for the next show before flying home.

We met some people from Australia and other parts of the US that came in just to see the show. For the number of people we bragged to about tickets (outside of the show) who only responded with, "Tom who?"; apparently there are 3500 die hard fans from around the world that felt the need to be there for the first show (of only 8 shows) on his tour.

The only people we ecnountered from Atlanta - we already knew. Our neighbor D and Phil- my tattoo artist

So the long line held up the show by an hour. But Tom got on stage and explained that the long lines were there to prevent the big guys from buying up tickets (which sold out in 17 minutes) and selling for crazy prices. He wanted his true fans to get in. He did not start the show until the last person in line was in the door.

So there you have it, my second in a lifetime experience. Here are some shots we got from the show

So maybe I am a little old for kindergarten but I do remember what I wore- a pink dress with a little red rose on the breast,  white stockings that were just a size or two too big (displaying what my mother called “camel knees”) and my brown leather MaryJane shoes. 

 

I was so excited about my shoes and my first day of school that I insisted on sleeping in them; my shoes that is.  All of my clothes neatly layed out for the adventures to take place the following morning.  I didn’t get much sleep, though.  I was bursting with excitement.

 

I remember this feeling a few other times; like the eve of my first amusement park excursion, the night before I could obtain a driver license and maybe my first trip to Europe.  Okay, there were a few Christmas Eve’s in the early years that gave me the same tingle.

 

So here I am twenty some years post kindergarten and I am having that familiar feeling of wanting to sleep in my new shoes.  Only I don’t have new shoes.

 

Tom Waits is in Atlanta at the Tabernacle tomorrow night and we have tickets.  It has been 8 years since I have seen him live and have only seen him live that one time; which happens to be the last time he toured.  And this is his first show in Atlanta since 1978.  He is not promoting a new album (Mule Variations was the last album he promoted and Real Gone is his most recent, released in '04) so there could be any number of tunes he plays from any number of his awesome albums. 

 

I think I will go put one of my favorite Waits' albums, Blue Valentine, ball up my fists and shake my arms and do a little dance.  All the while singing in a teasing rhythm……I am going to Tom Waits…I am going to Tom Waits.  

 

 

 

 

Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis

hey Charley I'm pregnant
and living on 9-th street
right above a dirty bookstore
off cuclid avenue
and I stopped taking dope
and I quit drinking whiskey
and my old man plays the trombone
and works out at the track.

and he says that he loves me
even though its not his baby
and he says that he'll raise him up
like he would his own son
and he gave me a ring
that was worn by his mother
and he takes me out dancin
every saturday nite.

and hey Charley I think about you
everytime I pass a fillin' station
on account of all the grease
you used to wear in your hair
and I still have that record
of little anthony & the imperials
but someone stole my record player
how do you like that?

hey Charley I almost went crazy
after mario got busted
so I went back to omaha to
live with my folks
but everyone I used to know
was either dead or in prison
so I came back in minneapolis
this time I think I'm gonna stay.

hey Charley I think I'm happy
for the first time since my accident
and I wish I had all the money
that we used to spend on dope
I'd buy me a used car lot
and I wouldn't sell any of em
I'd just drive a different car
every day dependin on how
I feel.

hey Charley
for chrissakes
do you want to know
the truth of it?
I don't have a husband
he don't play the trombone
and I need to borrow money
to pay this lawyer
and Charley, hey
I'll be eligible for parole
come valentines day.

 

Here are some great quotes of his taken from Wikipedia

And sometime around 2 AM you end up taking advantage of yourself. Ain't no way around that. Making a scene with a magazine. Nighthawks at the Diner (1975)

Don't you know there ain't no devil, it's just god when he's drunk "Heartattack and Vine", Heartattack and Vine (1980)

I'm so goddamn horny, the crack of dawn better be careful around me Nighthawks at the Diner (1975)

Your veal cutlet gets up off the plate, It walks down to end of the counter and beat the shit out of my cup of coffee. I guess the coffee just wasn't strong enough to defend itself Nighthawks at the Diner (1975)

 I don't have a drinking problem ‘cept when I can't get a drink "Bad Liver and a Broken Heart", Small Change (1976)

 And the things you can’t remember tell the things you can’t forget "Time", Rain Dogs (1985)

The piano has been drinking, not me. "The Piano Has Been Drinking", Small Change (1976)

If there's one thing you can say about mankind, there's nothing kind about man "Misery is the River of the World", Blood Money (2002)

What's he building in there? We have a right to know. "What's He Building in There", Mule Variations (1999)

And someone will head south 'til this whole thing cools off "Small Change", Small Change (1976)

If you get far enough away you'll be on your way back home. "Blind Love", Rain Dogs (1985)

The large print giveth and the small print taketh away. "Step Right Up", Small Change (1976)

Some men are searching for the Holy Grail, but there ain't nothing sweeter then riding the rail "Cold Water", Mule Variations (1999)

 My kids are starting to notice I'm a little different from the other dads. "Why don't you have a straight job like everyone else?" they asked me the other day. I told them this story: In the forest, there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. Every day, the straight tree would say to the crooked tree, "Look at me...I'm tall, and I'm straight, and I'm handsome. Look at you...you're all crooked and bent over. No one wants to look at you." And they grew up in that forest together. And then one day the loggers came, and they saw the crooked tree and the straight tree, and they said, "Just cut the straight trees and leave the rest." So the loggers turned all the straight trees into lumber and toothpicks and paper. And the crooked tree is still there, growing stronger and stranger every day.

I like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things.

"I don't have fun. Actually, I had fun once. In 1962. I drank a whole bottle of Robitussin cough medicine and went in the back of a 1961 powder-blue Lincoln Continental to a James Brown concert with some Mexican friends of mine. I haven't had fun since. It's not a word I like. It's like Volkswagens or bell-bottoms, or patchouli oil or bean sprouts. It rubs me up the wrong way. I might go out and have an educational and entertaining evening, but I don't have fun."