Yo Momma Wears Combat Boots!

My daughter Destiny is a soldier. The U. S. Army owns her. Maybe I should say she owns it. A wife, and mother of two, she sparkles like a zesty crisp green Vlasic in combat boots. That’s right, when the kids at school become of heckling age, her boys won’t argue or feel humiliated when the other kids say, “Yea…you’re momma wears combat boots!”
Instead, they’ll proudly agree and then counter with a , “..and she can
kick your dads ass too.”

You wouldn’t know it to look at her. Her baby doll features and innocent wide eyed sensuality can turn a room on it’s side. She’s 5’2’with a porcelain complexion, enormous glassy green pools kissed with long feathery lashes. Her aggressive nature reflects itself in her hairs refusal to hold coloring. She got that from me. We’ll be blonde to the end. It’s not our personal preference.
Armed with Army issue fire arms, she’s a formidable opponent.

When she was a kid I thought she’d grow up to be a knock-down gorgeous woman. I hadn’t anticipated she’d be a literal automated killing machine, a capable marksman.

So, when ever you think about insulting the intelligence of the next Bratz shoe-in that catches your eye, remember this, she could be the soldier covering your back in times of war and you know how hormonal women can be

.12/31/2005 10:31 PM
word count 226

Finding Neverland

"....actually, you're a dog"

I love Johnny Dep. He's a fascinating creature. Will the man never age? He's come a long way since 21 Jump Street. I am always assured of a good laugh or cry when he appears on the big screen. Even on the little screen. So naturally, I was excited when yet another opportunity arose for me to take a magical journey with the inimitable hair gel hottie. I quickly signed up for my 2 week free trial with Netflix and pushed him to the top of my Que. I figured I'd been thinking about trying them out for a long time now, so why not now, since there are so many movies out there that I haven't seen, and will most likely not see if I don't opt in for home delivery. This time of year is too iffy to run the risk of late fee's. So I rarely rent. It's a 40+ mile round trip to the local Movie Gallery. That's why I would no doubt end up buying those rentals due to imminent winter time weather conditions.

I was really excited when Finding Neverland arrived in that bright red envelope. I waited until the old bald man left for work, made myself a superb pile of nachos and cracked open that Coca Cola I so rarely indulge in. I gently removed the DVD and sat it in the tray and exercised my remote finger. The drawer slid in and nothing happened. And more of nothing. So I ejected it to see what was the matter.

Oh, is that all.

It had a crack clean through. I was a bit let down, but I had My Big Fat Greek Wedding
waiting in the wings.

I reported it damaged and sent it on it's way. A couple days later I received the replacement copy. I danced around doing my best Mary Martin imitation and batted at the fairy dust drifting down from the ceiling fans. Then I lined out my evenings work on the living room floor in front of the tellie, tossed my taco supremes onto a TV tray and flopped down, my trigger finger itching.

Please work...awesome! Peta-Peta-Peta

I channeled Bette Davis, then composed myself long enough to plow into the sour cream that was oozing from my taco. The excitement was short lived. The picture froze, it moved, then it froze for good. I never made it past the "...you're a dog" scene.

So I'm thinkin', I'm just not meant to watch this flick...not now anyways. I got my gift wrapping done for two birthdays and Christmas while half heartedly engrossing myself in Batman Begins. I had a hard time getting past the cape crusaders lisp.

My doubly bad luck with this movie tells me that it must be a very popular one for it to of been released for such a short time and to already have two worn out discs in a row find their way to my mail box. Will I never find Neverland? I only hope that my luck is better when The Pirates of the Carribean 2 is released. As for Netflix? Thou shalt not judge, lest ye be judged.

12/18/2005 1:25 AM
word count 513

Claddagh Poison Ring; A Fashion Oxymoron

WILL WORK FOR FOOD

That's my sign. The one I would be flashing at people if I were standing on a corner. Rare, I know. We're a dying breed, the ones that don't flinch at the prospect of earning our way. Heck, I'm just so tickled someone would actually pay me in exchange for my fulfilling a need of theirs. In case you've been wondering, that's where I've been, working. Now I know what you may be thinkin', " How can she go off and forget about us loyal readers? The answer is...money.

It being the most expensive holiday of the year, I've been beating the bushes for green backs. I haven't gotten my quota yet, although I may have had a couple of shrubs try to hit me back if they weren't dormant. I've been my resourceful self, selling anything that hasn't grown roots.

I've moved a lot of Oracles lately...and no, those have nothing to do with dental floss, tarot, pendulum, Gypsy Fortune Telling Cards, stuff like that. My second biggest seller has been silver jewelry, charms and talismans. Anything from any religion is good mojo. I'm not Jewish, but I love my Hamsa. I Believe all religions are THE religion. The stories are similar, a lot of the practices have similarities too. It all boils down to The Father, The Holy Mother, and The Son. Their lives read like the ultimate Soap Opera. It has been transformed into Blockbuster hits and has remained on the Best Sellers list since the dawn of publication. Tragic, mysterious, awe inspiring page turners. So, a person can't go wrong catering to the spiritual masses. Besides, I may inadvertently win a brownie point with the divine omniscience. I was listing some great stuff today that I wouldn't mind owning myself if I could afford it when a shiny silver heart caught my eye. It glowed beneath a crown and between two slender hands. It was a Claddagh ring. I stopped a minute and admired it, then gently tucked it into a tiny Ziploc and began writing the copy for the advertisement.

CLADDAGH POISON RING...

Right there I busted out laughing. You see, that's what I call a fashion oxymoron. A Claddagh is given as a gift of love and friendship. It's an Irish thing. However, I'm thinking it may not have been an Irishman that decided to create a poison ring out of the time honored gift. Yesser, you read that right. You can discretely stash a little dash of anything inside this ring. And honestly, if you want it to be discrete, you obviously have ill intentions. Am I right?

12/10/2005 11:50 PM
word count 435