Morphing into Mama

This is so Wrong.....But I Laughed Anyway

The Landlord

All Bets Are On

MIM is not dead – yet.  She’s studying for midterms, preparing for a move, and interviewing for trainee positions while trying to mother 2 kids and be an attentive wife.  Start placing your bets on how-long-till-she-cracks below.

Regular programming will resume . . . whenever.

Can't Jump No More

In case any of you were wondering what happened to David Lee Roth, you'll be happy to know he's alive and well and spending the weekend at our house.

Sadly, he' s still a little upset over the whole Van Halen fiasco.  That bowl is full of vodka.  And, yes, that's a diaper he's wearing.  The vodka goes straight through him.

The Sevens

I don’t really like doing memes.  You see, I like to delude myself into thinking I’m so, like, totally, like, creative when I’m so, like, totally fucking NOT.  Yes, it’s a nice litttle delusional world I’ve created in here with the voices and all.  But, alas, I was tag-teamed yet again (and not in the preferred kinky way -- yet again), by two of my favorite blogging daddies, MetroDad and Matthew.  And, since I couldn’t possibly say “no” to these great guys, here’s my list of sevens:

7 Things I Want to Do Before I Die

1.   Be a black soul singer.

2.   Go on Safari and feed a giraffe.  And an elephant.

3.   Write and publish a book that makes people laugh and think.

4.   See my kids grow up to become well-adjusted adults.

5.   See ER get taken off the air.

6.   Help change the lives of 1000 people for the better.

7.   Stop child abuse.

7 Things I Cannot Do

1.   Play the piano, despite having really long fingers.

2.   Lie.

3.   Feign liking someone I don’t like.

4.   Be someone/something I’m not.

5.   Go along with the crowd.

6.   Laugh quietly.

7.   Keep my mouth shut.

7 Things That Attract Me To The Opposite Sex

1.   Intelligence.

2.   A very sharp, dry wit.

3.   Self-awareness without the constant need to fucking talk about it.

4.   A quiet, not arrogant self-assuredness.

5.   Genuinely not caring what others think of you, which means not having the constant need to prove this.

6.   Good listening skills.

7.   Extremely caring (put all seven together and you get Husband).

7 Things I Say Most Often

1.   I love you.

2.   What the fucking motherfuck?

3.   Wanna drink?

4.   Good listening, Buddy.

5.   Mama needs just 5 more minutes to finish writing.

6.   The kids are so fucking cute.

7.   We need to have relations tonight.

7 Celebrity Crushes

1.   Colin Firth (because he reminds me so very much of Husband).

2.   See number 1.

3.   See numbers 1 and 2.

4.   Jon Stewart (smart and cute).

5.   Sting (Yes, I know he’s a pompous ass, but old habits die hard).

6.   Ashton Kutcher (I’m not a fan, but for whatever reason I’ve had some very intense sex dreams about him).

7.   Jessica Simpson (only when she’s not talking and because she looks like one of my exes.  And, no, you did not misread that.).

7 People I Want To Do This You Should Be Reading

1.   Jessica (because you all should know her the way I do)

2.   Mary and AdventureDad (because it's payback time!)

3.   Heidi and Amy (because they're so cool)

4.   L! (yes, the star commenter at BB finally got her own fucking blog)

5.   Susan (because if she and I lived in the same town, it would be dangerous)

6.   Misfit Hausfrau (who wouldn’t be a misfit if she lived near me)

7.   Chocolate Makes It Better (because it just does)

You Know You're Old When . . .

one of your 22-year-old fellow graduate students says, "Wow.  You're 34?  I hope I look as good as you when I'm that old."

I'm It

Two childhood games always made my heart race with anxiety: dodgeball and tag.  I was terrible at dodgeball.  My clothes were always far too girlie for a game requiring enough agility to escape a 20 mph moving ball the size of my head.  Inevitably, I’d get twisted up in my skirt, fall down, and the ball would hit me in the face.  Okay . . . so I can’t blame everything on my clothes.  Truth be told, I was and still am a complete spaz.  There’s a reason my father nicknamed me “Grace.” 

Tag wasn’t much better.  I’d slip and slide on the concrete in my patent leather Mary Janes, rip a whole in my tights, and skin my knees till they bled – which is why I was always “it.”  Plus, it didn’t help that my classmates made fun of my running.  Apparently, long skinny flailing limbs only make one look like a giant spider – and a silly one at that, not the sleek dark menacing kind I would have preferred.

As an adult, I thought I’d escaped these tortuous childhood games.  I was wrong.  Turns out “tag” exists in the blogosphere.  Great – just reading the word makes my pulse rise.  So I’ve been “tagged.”  In fact, I was tag-teamed by Mary and AdventureDad – and not in the preferred kinky way. 

To demonstrate my ability to play with others, I am required to find the 5^th sentence of my 23^rd post (The Unwanted Ending) and enter it here:

“This was not my choice.”

Ironic, isn’t it?

Now, that I’ve played with others (and again, not in the preferred kinky way), I’d like to post a more fun sentence – specifically, the 4^th sentence from my 8^th post (My Vagina’s Monologue):

“I’m just calling to tell you there’s nothing unusual growing inside your vagina.”

Isn’t that one more titillating?

You’re “it.”

Search and You Shall Find

My favorite MSN search results to appear on my stats page thus far:

"UNREAL FUCKING SHIT"

I was on page 13 of 76,873 results.  I am so proud.

At The Risk of Committing Copyright Infringement . . . .

 

Published in the New Yorker, September 12, 2005

Announcement

For all you Twins fans (and I don't mean Minnesota), MIM would like to announce that Matthew over at Childs Play has spiffy new digs and a new web address.  Please update your blogroll accordingly.

Also, please note that MIM has apparently morphed into Bob Dole as she can't stop referring to herself in the third person.  Not a pretty sight. 

New Orleans Blog

The following is an interview conducted by a New Orleans blogger I heard about on CNN.  Very disturbing.

The Real News
The following is the result of an interview I just conducted via cell phone with a New Orleans citizen stranded at the Convention Center. I don't know what you're hearing in the mainstream media or in the press conferences from the city and state officials, but here is the truth:

"Bigfoot" is a bar manager and DJ on Bourbon Street, and is a local personality and icon in the city. He is a lifelong resident of the city, born and raised. He rode out the storm itself in the Iberville Projects because he knew he would be above any flood waters. Here is his story as told to me moments ago. I took notes while he talked and then I asked some questions:

Three days ago, police and national guard troops told citizens to head toward the Crescent City Connection Bridge to await transportation out of the area. The citizens trekked over to the Convention Center and waited for the buses which they were told would take them to Houston or Alabama or somewhere else, out of this area.

It's been 3 days, and the buses have yet to appear.

Although obviously he has no exact count, he estimates more than 10,000 people are packed into and around and outside the convention center still waiting for the buses. They had no food, no water, and no medicine for the last three days, until today, when the National Guard drove over the bridge above them, and tossed out supplies over the side crashing down to the ground below. Much of the supplies were destroyed from the drop. Many people tried to catch the supplies to protect them before they hit the ground. Some offered to walk all the way around up the bridge and bring the supplies down, but any attempt to approach the police or national guard resulted in weapons being aimed at them.

There are many infants and elderly people among them, as well as many people who were injured jumping out of windows to escape flood water and the like -- all of them in dire straights.

Any attempt to flag down police results in being told to get away at gunpoint. Hour after hour they watch buses pass by filled with people from other areas. Tensions are very high, and there has been at least one murder and several fights. 8 or 9 dead people have been stored in a freezer in the area, and 2 of these dead people are kids.

The people are so desperate that they're doing anything they can think of to impress the authorities enough to bring some buses. These things include standing in single file lines with the eldery in front, women and children next; sweeping up the area and cleaning the windows and anything else that would show the people are not barbarians.

The buses never stop.

Before the supplies were pitched off the bridge today, people had to break into buildings in the area to try to find food and water for their families. There was not enough. This spurred many families to break into cars to try to escape the city. There was no police response to the auto thefts until the mob reached the rich area -- Saulet Condos -- once they tried to get cars from there... well then the whole swat teams began showing up with rifles pointed. Snipers got on the roof and told people to get back.

He reports that the conditions are horrendous. Heat, mosquitoes and utter misery. The smell, he says, is "horrific."

He says it's the slowest mandatory evacuation ever, and he wants to know why they were told to go to the Convention Center area in the first place; furthermore, he reports that many of them with cell phones have contacts willing to come rescue them, but people are not being allowed through to pick them up.

I have "Bigfoot"'s phone number and will gladly give it to any city or state official who would like to tell him how everything is under control.

Addendum: Bigfoot just called to report that "they" (the authorities) are cleaning up the dead bodies at the Convention Center right now.