Attention spammers....

First a note to good friends and others who come across my blog: PLEASE comment! I cherish your thoughts, and am sorry that a bunch of azzhat fidiots are ruining the Internet for everyone. Unfortunately, because of those same cretins, I have had to put in a verification step before your comment becomes final. I hate it, but such is life.

NOW FOR YOU IDIOT SPAMMERS:
Do NOT place comments on my blog to direct people to dating sites, how to make money, or any other "business opportunity."

I have no need for penile enlargement or any other thing dealing with erectile dysfunction. I couldn't care less about seeing hot, horny housewives, or writing for an Eastern European mail order bride. I do not want to be a medical transcriptionist or envelope stuffer from home. I could give forty craps about any other business opportunity.

Do all of us a huge favor -- go far far away from the Internet and do not return.

Grab some tissues and an oxygen mask....

Because you will be laughing SO hard, you'll cry and forget to breathe!!!

Worst Album Covers
This one has some incredibly great commentary, and even after reading it a dozen times, I still crack up! AND he also has a second page (hit "next entry") and a link to yet another site. Really good stuff!

A Whole Slew of 'Em
This is a massive collection of all sorts of album covers. Some are incredibly good (dated, but even now would stand up to any CD cover work of today). Some are just godawful (with appropriate commentary provided). There's admiration for the good covers, and appropriate opposite sentiment for the not-so-good ones. This one is broken down into two main galleries, with probably 10 or 12 sections each, and I'm guessing about 30 covers in each of those sections. MASSIVE collection.

Work hard, play hard!

Work: I love my job. No, REALLY! I love it there! Where else could this happen?

Last Friday night, we had the 1st Annual Poker Tournament. Both the owners are poker fanatics. So they set up a tournament for us. Anyhow, adult beverages were allowed to be brought in to the office, but not opened until the tournament began (about a half-hour after closing). So I stopped at the nearby ABC store to pick up some goods. I was perusing the pre-mixed drinks, when this voice says, "HEY! Get away from that stuff, it's bad for you!" It was my boss. I mean, not just one of the owners, but the one that I work with! Of course, he was picking up his own libations...

Then, I got back with goods in hand, to find the other owner setting up the poker chips and instructions for the evening! His comment? "Special book or no special book, I'm taking all your chips!" (I had mentioned to him that I bought a book to help me prepare....). He was not prepared, however, for the name of the book: The Badass Girl's Guide to Poker (great book, btw). He laughed much about that.

Only at this company could these events happen!

Play: As it turns out, I didn't do too badly. Middle of the pack, with a good run up front. We took a dinner break about an hour into it, and I had a pretty good stack o' chips at that point. My own boss said, "Man, we are seeing a whole different side of YOU this evening!" When I first started there, I was trying hard not to cause too many waves, so people assumed I was quiet, shy, bookish (okay, I'll concede that one!), meek and mild...... did THEY ever get the shock of their lives! (HA HA HA)

I eventually went all-in (pretty much had to, since the blinds had gone WAY up). And lost. Oh well. I stuck around for the end of the tournament, taking pictures and stuff. Lots and lots of fun altogether.

And I think we're having another tournament next month. Heh heh heh........

Down, but not out....

Over the last couple of days, we have been blessed to hear that most of my friends from the Gulf are alive and well. Still waiting to hear from a couple, but the reports on their own personal safety is cause for rejoicing.

But so much devastation that it makes me sad. I am especially heartbroken for the folks in Gulfport-Biloxi. Last summer ('04), I took part in a girls' weekend in Biloxi, and had one of the best times of my life. LOTS and lots of friendships were cemented that weekend, and I loved the area. Yesterday, I read a report from the Jackson Clarion-Ledger that Beauvoir (the Jefferson Davis home) was destroyed, and that the President Casino was lifted off its moorings and deposited onto a nearby Holiday Inn. We stayed at the President! While the hotel portion was across US90 from the casino itself, this just freaks me out to no end.

As some friends of mine (known as the Room 248 Girls) noted, "NO! Room 248 is gone! No more!" I noted to them that yes, the physical Room 248 is gone, but they have kept Room 248 alive in their friendships and their memories.

Louisiana's governor has declared today, Wednesday, August 31 a day of prayer. And pray I shall for the people of Louisiana, the people of Mississippi, the people of Alabama and portions of Florida (including those still reeling from Katrina's first impact, near Ft. Lauderdale).

No words, just prayers

I am blessed to have many friends and acquaintances all over the US. I have some who have been in the path of Hurricane Katrina, from its initial landfall in southern Florida through its current trek through Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and on through Tennessee and Kentucky and onward.

And I pray for every single one of them.

Thank God for SC DOT....

I will praise their SHEP program to high heaven. SHEP is (I think) State Highway Emergency Program. Okay, I just found out that they're no longer SHEP -- it's the DOT Incident Response Team. Whatever, they're SHEP to me.

Anyway, for TWO straight days, they have come to my rescue on I-85. Yesterday morning, I blew my right front tire. It was not a fun feeling at all -- until it actually happened, my car was shaking so badly, that I thought my car just might explode or implode (wasn't sure which). Luckily, the SHEP vehicle arrived -- without me calling -- in about 2 minutes. He happened to be patrolling, and there I was. He changed my tire (put on my spare), and away I went.

Today, I was coming back from running errands, when WHAMMO-BLAMMO!! out went the back right tire. And I don't just mean, oops it's flat, or oh-no-there-went-a-chunk. I mean the entire TREAD came off and left just the sidewalls. Again, there was SHEP in a fairly reasonable time. I didn't call, but that doesn't mean another person didn't alert the Highway Patrol (who then alerted SHEP). The guy says he happened upon my car. I sat there for about 10-15 minutes before he arrived, so that's possible. I'm just glad he showed!

I shan't complain, ever again, about our DOT. Instead, I'll be grateful for them!

The Picture

Forgive this other trip down memory lane.... I wrote this during my senior year of college (1991) when I found a picture of me and my brother. The sentiment remains the same -- I just updated the # of years since. Enjoy -- A.

I found a picture the other day. It was an old 8 x 10 of two children. The edges were yellowed, but the central picture was still intact. One of the children was a girl no more than seven and the other was a little boy no older than two. Those kids represented every kid in America.

The girl had chin-length hair with bangs closely cropped just above the eyebrows. She had sparkling blue eyes, and a snaggled-toothed smile. Her eyes showed a certain look that said, "I'm seven, and I'm taking on the world." It was obvious that she had just lost an upper tooth, and her smile showed her pride in losing that tooth. She wore a white shirt with puffy short sleeves and a denim jumper. On the bottom of the jumper, there was a rainbow and clouds that had been silkscreened on the material. Her knees were scraped, but not badly. What little girl, out having fun with her friends, wouldn't have scraped knees?

The boy was wearing a white shirt with the Liberty Bell embroidered on it and a pair of blue shorts. He had just gotten in a few teeth and it too was obvious that they were on display for the world. He had the same honey-colored hair as the girl in the picture and the same sparkling blue eyes. His eyes showed a world of promise before him. His tennis shoes were slightly dirty on the bottom. But what young growing boy, out discovering that great big wide world we call home, wouldn't have dirty tennis shoes?

Their parents were rather chagrined by the scraped knees and dirty shoes and tried to reschedule the appointment for another time. The photographer stopped them, saying that the children were charming and that he wouldn't change a thing. Only partially convinced, the parents chose to trust him and the essence of the moment was captured on film and paper. The sweet smiles, the big blue eyes, the charm -- all of it there for the world to see.

I stare at the picture more closely and notice a date: April 1977. Over 28 years have passed since that moment was frozen in time. I often sit and wonder what happened to the two children. Are they alive or did they die? Do they still have that innocent sparkle in their eyes, or has the world and all its problems taken that shine out? Are they successful by our society's standards, or are they just existing day-to-day? I think I know the answers to those questions. The children are dead, in a sense. Although the people in the picture are very much alive, those children died long ago. But that one moment of childhood innocence now hangs on my wall as a testament to what was, and still can be. I still believe that those childlike faces are special and are still miraculous.

Photographs and Memories

In my genealogy program, where I have stored all the information I have gathered, I also have the capability to do slide shows of scanned photos. I have several of my parents and a few here and there of other ancestors (but not many).

There's a picture of my dad that just sets me crying every single time. It's the only "baby" picture there is of him -- and he was around 18-24 months at the time. Granted, his parents were very poor, and Grandma had 3 children in less than 3 calendar years (my dad being in the middle). In this picture, he has on the cutest little pair of overalls -- they look to be corduroy -- with a little teddy bear applique on the pocket in the middle of the chest. He also has on a Peter-Pan collar shirt.

I cry because it makes me so sad to see. I wonder if the clothes were hand-me-downs from older brothers (or sisters even) or perhaps a cousin. I cry because I can picture the hardscrabble life they had, often through no fault of their own. I often wonder what that little boy in the picture must have been thinking, wondering, feeling, doing at the time.

And yet the picture makes me so proud too -- I bet no one at the time who would have seen him could have imagined that the little boy would have grown up to be a college graduate, with a productive, steady job, and a great family (not bragging, mind you). In fact, all my dad's brothers and sisters not only survived but thrived. Believe me, no "victim" mentality at all in this family.... their hard-knock life only served to drive them even more.

And that same drive has gone on to their children. We grew up with creature comforts that they only dreamed of as children -- and worked their rears off to provide as adults. Because they never got to complete their education, we were told we had to -- and 9 of the 14 grandchildren have some level of college education or completed degrees. (My father does have an associate's degree, even though he did not complete high school, which makes me all the prouder).

All things that I bet that little boy in the overalls never imagined......

Joys of the Backside of Thirty

Once upon a time, I dreaded my 30th birthday with a horror. I grew up where 30 was the age where you had to "grow up" and the fun ended. And as tough as my 20s had been, I could only imagine the god-awful things that lay in wait after I turned the big 3-0. I couldn't have been more mistaken.

The 30s have been FAR better and kinder than my 20s ever were. My 20s were frought with navel-gazing and self-absorption. My 30s have been filled with great fun, lots of love and laughter, and amazing self-knowledge. I found strength, joy, wisdom, courage -- sometimes to a degree I didn't know I had within me.

Go back and relive those old days? NEVER!

Just some random thoughts on life.

Life is weird, wild, short, long, wide, and every other thing. And what a coaster ride the last year of my life has been -- great highs and horrid lows. If you had said to me a year ago how different my life would be.... well, I might have believed you but I sure wouldn't have bet the farm on it. But here I am, self-confidence back up, and loving what has come to be.

Oh God. I AM an addict....

I was without a home 'Net connection for about a week. Long story, but suffice to say that I am back, and it couldn't come a moment sooner!!!!!

One foot on the brake, and one on the gas....

Okay, this post was inspired by a jam-up Jag I saw today. BEAUTIFUL deep red, and I only got a momentary look at it, but I bet it was awesome. Unfortunately, the person who was driving it was going 50 in a 55, in the passing lane.

I wanted to say, "Lady, if I had a Jag like that, and simply wanted to show it off to say to others, 'Oh, look! I have a Jag!' then I'd put it in my garage and charge admission. If you're gonna have a performance vehicle out on the highway, then by God, make it perform!!!!"

But then again, it wasn't just the Jag. It was practically every freakin' vehicle between work and home, from the Interstate, on through my exit off a US highway..... GRRRRRR!

Rush hour? HA!

Things that make me happy....

A phone call from a dear friend, just calling to catch up with me and say that she still thinks of me and wants to meet for dinner and giggles. (This lady is precious.... and I miss getting to see her).

Watching children just be themselves. Okay, up until the point they start screaming and caterwauling. Then they get un-cute.

Adam Sandler movies. Yes, I am a fan. My faves? Probably Happy Gilmore and The Waterboy. And The Wedding Singer. And 50 First Dates. Okay, most of them.......

Watching the "Mah-nah-mah-nah" clip from The Muppet Show. Heck, I'd smile even more if they showed episodes of the original Muppet Show again!

Leaving work and actually making it to the Interstate in under 5 minutes. Most days, it's impossible. When it happens, it's a thrill! BTW, on the way in to work -- 2 minutes from the I, tops.

Breyer's Butter Pecan Ice Cream. Especially when I am the first one into a new carton!

Having the place to myself for a while. Usually a week or so will do me (but it's terribly rare).

More to come later......

Channeling Julia Sugarbaker....

You know, it isn't often that something truly riles me... but this "Christian Exodus" crapola has done just that.

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, Carolina is my home. By Carolina, I mean both Upstate SC and Western North Carolina as well (I have ancestral roots there as well). Quite honestly, I've always felt that Eastern TN, NE Georgia, Western NC, and Upstate SC should sort of be its own state..... but that's another subject. Anyhow, Carolina is my home -- always has been, perhaps always will be. And yes, there are lots of times when I shake my head in bewilderment at some of the shenanigans that go on in this area. But when things are right, it can be paradise.

Therein lies the problem. What is sometimes paradise to one is another's hell. I for one do not want a bunch of outsiders coming in, thinking that they're going to turn my beloved paradise into some sort of Six Flags Over Jesus. And furthermore, to whiiiiiiiiiiine when things aren't like they were back in (insert 40 out of the remaining 49 states). Because I will be quite hard-pressed not to say, "Well, who invited your sorry, whiny, holier-than-thou, agitating, carpetbagging carcass into my paradise?" -- and a thousand other lines: "Delta's ready when you are." "I-85 -- goes north, goes south, take your pick and your bags with you too."

I tell you, it's making a move to Asheville NC (still in my area of Carolina) -- and best known as the Eastern Hippie Haven -- look better and better all the time. For whatever reason, Western NC seems to be more tolerant and open-minded (or at least sometimes).

GRRRRRRR! This whole thing just chaps my hide!

Peeved In Extremis (A Political Tirade)

Okay, I was clued in today by my pal Stacey about an article in our local fishwrapper. Seems there is a movement afoot to relocate a buttload of conservative Christians to my fair state in an effort to swing the political balance..... in effect, making SC a haven for conservative Christians. Kind of like, "Is Michigan getting too liberal for you? Move to SC -- where your prejudices and petty narrowmindedness will find the perfect home."

Well, first off, I'm thinking, HELLO? How much more conservative can you GET outside of South Carolina? The state that's been solidly red for the last 25 years? Home of Strom Thurmond? Both senators are GOP (now that ol' Strom has passed on and Fritz retired). If I want to elect most of my local leaders, I have to vote in the Republican primary (otherwise, I don't get a say in who's running for sheriff or county council or anything else).

Great God almighty, you can't get more "better red than dead" than good ol' SC.... what the hell do these people think they're coming in to change? HELLO?

Part of me wants to say, "Go ahead. Move in. I hope you find that South Carolinians are far more tolerant than you think. I hope you find they laugh in your faces. I hope you meet people who you think will jump right on your bandwagon, only to find they have NO interest at all in your views." Ooops.... better stop there before I launch into a chorus of "Sweet Home Alabama" redone as "Sweet Home Carolina." Actually, I do have Northern friends whom I love dearly. Furthermore, most of them would never do anything like this either.

There's the other part of me that wants to tell them to take their sorry azzes back to wherever it is that spawned them. The part that would sing "Sweet Home Carolina." I am Carolina born, Carolina bred, and if God is good, someday, I will be Carolina dead. My roots here are deep. My families arrived here in the Carolinas well over 200 years ago. Some came from places like Virginia, Pennsylvania, Maryland... others came from another land altogether. But they found it good and to their liking and stayed. And I have too. I love the South, and especially my home state (warts and all). And I will be damned if I see it turned into a haven for religious lunatics who think they can turn my beloved Carolina (North OR South) into their own private Idaho.... so to speak.

DIBS!!!!

When I get to heaven (eventually), I hereby claim first dibs on the official "Kick Eve's A$$ for Eternity" concession. I figure I'll have women from all generations lined up around the blocks (does heaven have blocks?) just for the chance.

Remember, FIRST KICK FREE! And I'm sure the dear won't mind. After all, she probably has had someone kicking it upon entry for millennia.....

The good things in life

With all the drama-rama that is the daily existence of my family life, I failed to give credit for the good things this weekend:

1. Celebrating the 8th birthday of my godchild. This week, I've gone back through 8 years of accumulated photos, and misted up at what a beautiful person she is becoming. It is mind-boggling to think that the sweet little child I first met at 6 weeks old is now 8, and one of the brightest lights in my life. She's smart, funny, and slightly crazy.... and there is nothing more precious than the sincere hug of an 8-year-old when you have given her something to make her day!

2. Getting carded! Yep, Godchild's mama and I got carded at her dinner celebration. As mah sister Wicked Witch commented, if we could bottle that feeling, we'd make a fortune. Especially since the end of my fourth decade on earth will be staring me in the face far sooner than I can even imagine..... (I did a whole discussion on the messageboard on that, called "A Larva Looks at 40").

3. Did I mention that my godchild's hugs are the best? And that her cousin gives awesome hugs too? And her brother?

4. Heh. I got carded!

Sometimes in the endless harangues and heated discussions, I forget how good things can be.... So I will come back to this post as a reminder.

Royal Decree

Okay, it's hotter than frickin' Hades in our house. But is our a/c on? NOOOOOOO! Because someone in the family is -- can you believe this??-- cold. The rest of us are in tanks, shorts, the thinnest materials known to man -- and we're roasting. But one family member is cold, and therefore the rest of us must suffer.

Oh, oh, oh!!!! Rejoice, oh sweaty ones! Ms. Iceberg has now relented. Even she could no longer stand it. AH! Sweet relief!

A moment to whine, por favor?

They took my monitor last week. It was heartbreaking. It was a lovely 17" flat-panel, with integrated speakers. It was just beautiful. They brought me a 14" -- YES! A 14" MONITOR -- with no speakers. Obviously, it's not a flat panel. I literally have to lean into my desk to see some stuff. That's not good for the eyes. I have been told my new monitor is on order. Be prepared -- wherever you are -- to hear whoops of joy when that happens!

That is all.

Inquiring minds wanna know...

Just a thought from the drive home..... Churches ought to be held to some sort of conventional naming standard such as (Phrase or Word 1) (Denominational Affiliation) Church. Like St. John's Catholic Church, Evening Shade United Methodist Church, Timbuktoo First Presbyterian Church, or even Route 44 Baptist Church.

Nondenominational? Say so. I'd much rather see "Rosewood Non-Denomational Church" instead of "Rosewood House of Worship Center." By calling it a "worship center" instead of a "church" that's supposed to be more attractive?

This one takes the cake! It's not the actual name of the church I pass sometimes on the way home, because I truly wouldn't want to embarrass them.... but it's dang close: Yahweh's Flock, Joy, Peace, Love and Deliverance Temple of the Lord. What the flip? The first thing I'd wonder is "What the heck kind of church is that? If I went there, would I be able to be the first one out the exit doors when they bring out the serpents?"

Look, just call yourself "Cooterville First Church of the Snake Handlers." That I can handle! GEEZ people!