Get ready to laugh your ass off! I can't tell you not to listen to this at work, but if you do, have a good reason for cracking up. Then, forward it to everyone else in the office and listen for the giggles coming from the corner.

WHY AM I CONSTANTLY SEDUCED BY ADVERTISING?

Okay, it works like this...I watch the televison, I pay little or no attention to the commercials, enough of the sound sneaks through my censors and my ears pick up the words: NEW...LEMON...COOKIE. I am the original "As seen on TV" chick. Hell, one year when I had foster kids and money was tight, we had an "As seen on TV" christmas. All of the gifts had to fit the theme. I got one of those little egg scramblers. You've seen them. This little metal pin breaks the shell as you set it on it, and since it is set at an angle, as soon as it starts to spin it whirls the egg into perfect pre-scrambled state.

After having caught my attention, I turn the volume up and see that the source of these words is...a Keebler's Lemon Sandies commercial. Those damn elves. They got me again. I have to tell you that Lemon Flavor has surpassed chocolate for me. I will still eat chocolate, don't get me wrong, as much as I can get my hands on...I don't (or try not to) buy it. However, the seduction of the lemon embedded itself somewhere in my primal brain stem and when I was in the grocery store today, it struck.

The first thing I bought was a lemon marinated pork chop. Never had one, but it sure sounded good, for some reason. So, there I was with one of them in my cart and then I saw them. The cheese crackers. Hey, after I had the pork chop, those would be a great snack as I watched two DVD's of Alias. (I know, you wish you had this kind of excitement in your life!)

As I walked on down the aisle, there they were, opposite the crackers, THE DREADED KEEBLER LEMON SANDIES. At $3.49 a package they weren't quite as cost effective as the package of lemon wafers I bought at the dollar store last week. But, but, they sure looked good. And I succumbed to temptation. I was never known as a citadel of strength and resistance, in fact, the only nickname I have ever had sounded a lot like "Easy."

So now the cookies are sitting on the dresser. I know if I open them I will eat the entire package in one fell swoop. And then they will be gone and I will wonder why I didn't buy two packages. I'll tell you why, I may love lemon, but I am one cheap son of a bitch. But, what if I can't resist? You tell me, should I open the cookies and throw caution to the wind, or should I hold them as long as possible and build the anticipation up until the consumption of them presents an orgasmic frenzy of lemon?

I AM TIRED OF HAVING NO PICTURES...I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED IN PICGOO...LOOK AT THESE UNTIL THE OTHER ONES COME BACK! 

BOOKS, BOOKS, I LOVES ME SOME BOOKS

KIRK over at My So-Called Strife sent me the book meme. I have been just going bonkers trying to figure out what my five books on a deserted island would be, but I think I have them now.

Here's all you need to know about the Princess as it relates to books:

If you couldn't get out of "Fahrenheit 451," what book would you like to be in?"

• The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley (Lots of strong women wearing cool costumes. I'm shallow!)

Did you ever have a crush on a fictional character?

• Scarlet O'Hara in Gone With the Wind. (That woman knew what she wanted and wasn't going to be stopped!)

What was the last book you bought?

• The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini.

What was the last book you read?

• The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami

What book are you reading now?

• The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon

Five books you would take with you to a deserted island? (This was hard, folks!)

• Goedel, Eshcher and Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid by Douglas R. Hofstadter
• Welcome to the Monkey House by Kurt Vonnegut
• Erections, Ejaculations and Tales of A Dirty Old Man by Charles Bukowski (out of print, but I have one.)
• Ulysses by James Joyce
• The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats

I think that those would keep me occupied until the end of time.

Now, who do I pass this on to?

Andrena who will always fascinate me with whatever she says. Scott because he cracks me up and it's time he knew I existed. (All about me, you know.) And, finally, Karma because I know that someday I will be her love slave.

Worst Jobs in History

I don't think I even want to talk about some of these jobs, but the next time I complain about reconciling a bank statement or closing the books out for the year, I think I'll just peruse this for awhile.

I have often said that there aren't too many other time in history that I would have wanted to be alive. Then invention of bathrooms, microwaves and remote controls on televisions seem to have been invented just for me. To think about living, much less working, in other times makes me feel a little "oogy." (That may be a Minnesota term, what it means is "like puking.")

I took the test they had available and with my score of 25 found I fit in the following category:

0 to 30 No one is saying that you’re work-shy, but a more sedentary occupation would suit you, even if it gets a trifle monotonous. It’s a little messy, but being an Executioner won’t put huge demands on your time. If you don’t mind getting wet or sitting still, Bath Attendant or Artist's Model might do for you. Or if you’re not too squeamish about the sight of blood, pus or the odd taste of urine, try putting in an application form for some of the medical jobs: Leech Collector, Barber-Surgeon or Loblolly Boy (I'm not sure if they had Loblolly Girls but if they did, I think I could have found a better way to pick up some cash.)

Check it out only if you aren't so squeamish that the idea of stomping wool in urine is too much for your tummy.

YOU CAN'T MAKE ME WATCH IT

I'm sorry, but the days of me watching movies that will affect me for the rest of my life are over. Psycho and The Birds aside, I thought I was through with all of that.

Then along comes CBS with a grand production of Locusts that will star the amazing and wonderful Xena. Xena is still not enough to get me to watch it. Nope, not gonna do it.

In the third grade I remember Social Studies and all of the wonderful films that introduced me to the world outside of the one I lived in. Films about volcanoes, polar bears, Lake Titicaca (always good for a third grade giggle) and Africa.

What do they decide to show to a bunch of impressionable kids about Africa? Do they show Victoria Falls? The Serengeti? The Pyramids? Hell, no. They show us pictures of locusts and elephantitis. Great. At age eight, I don't think it is appropriate to darken a room and show swarms of locusts and diseased people. It has stuck with me all of this time. As an adult, I can choose to watch movies about things that I learned about as an adult. There isn't that emotional gut wrenching response to having bugs in you food and horribly distorted limbs.

So, CBS, on Sunday, April 24th I won't be watching your special. Lucy Lawless isn't even enough to get me there. Maybe if she was wearing that cute Xena outfit I would sneak a peak while surfing. No, on that night I think I will rent Dawn of the Dead and let my adult logic override the childhood fears. Thanks, anyway.

ANONYMOUS COMMENTS

Now I understand why you are such a messed-up Beeyatch! I often wonder, with all of your illnesses and onsite (meaning work) emotional breakdowns, why you are still at the infamous magazine?Oh, I forgot! It's infamous for being F-uped! And everyone knows you're the most f-uped!And you will never get fired because you are best friends with the COO. So until you're bf runs it underground (probally soon; she's an extremely bad buisnesswoman and boss) you're safe.But because I considered you a friend and know you lied to me, and misrepresented me on your blog, I don't believe your stories or feel any empathy about your past lives. This is a warning to all entrapped in her "poor me" snare!
# posted by Anonymous : 11:29 PM

This was posted as an anonymous comment on a previous entry of mine. I'm really sorry the person felt it necessary to post anonymously. But, I will put it out for all to see and I will comment on it.

A blog is a personal forum. I don't think I have said anything about anyone at my job that requires that kind of a response. However, that said, I have made remarks about people at work in a forum where they remain fairly anonymous and many of them are simply rants about a collection of things that have occurred. That said, I apologize for hurting someone's feelings. But, this is my page and I won't change what I say and do.

As far as my "past lives" (as you call the recollections of my youth) go, you can judge them however you wish. One of the things I have learned coming from such a place is that anger and abuse doesn't stop. I don't seek empathy, sympathy or anything from these recountings. They are for me. And, trust me, you all get to hear the funny ones...not the ones that I can't even put into words for myself.

My job and my friend are something that if you are still an employee of the company you can address with the owner. If you are not an employee, then I'm sorry you must take these feelings with you because they are affecting only you. Health problems are not something anyone wishes for themselves. When you have them, you deal with them openly and honestly and trust that everything will be fine.

And, any of you "entrapped in my snare", as it has been claimed, just in case you miss reading the comments, I put it up there for all of you to see and as far as Anonymous is concerned, I'm sorry you feel so angry about all of this, if I hurt your feelings it is because at times I can be an insensitive bitch, hopefully you can get on with your life now.

MOST E-MAILED NEWS STORY OF TODAY

A talking Jesus doll is due to go on sale in May, along with versions of Moses, the Virgin Mary and David, as a teddy bear maker tries to find a market with churches and religious families. The foot-tall Jesus doll will be able to recite five Biblical verses at the push of button on its back, while the Moses doll will recite the Ten Commandments. The Mary doll will recite a long Bible verse.

I don't think that I even have to comment on this, do I?

ANDREA DWORKIN DIES

In so many ways this woman affected my life. Love her, hate her, agree with her, disagree with her, she gave a generation of feminists more to think about than many would have thought possible. Regardless of how I feel about her today, I will always love her for the challenges she presented to me in defining my own feminism and the impact she will have on feminism for all times. Thanks, the world will miss you.

THIS TRULY DOES RELATE...ASK FREUD

Quite a few things to catch up...

1. A bit of pneumonia complications...new antibiotics and prednisone. With the warning that while the prednisone will help my lungs attain their former limited breathing capacity, it would also allow me to put on weight with an excuse and at the same time give me an excuse for being a grouch. Why didn't I lie about taking this drug years before? It's not me...it's my medication.
2. Blogger ate my blog. A wonderful post about another religious experience of mine which I will attempt to reconstruct after the intro...
3. I decided to switch from blogger to another format and hosting service, but know nothing about going about doing that, so I expect all of you to give me the best advice available and help me on my way.

Now, on to another of my religious experiences. Prior to latching onto the hunchbacked-alcoholic-catholic, my mother led me on quite a ride. Here is another escapade.

We were homeless. While homeless was not really a word in 1954, what we really were was "having an adventure." This adventure consisted of finding an empty house that had a window that a seven year old could be lifted up to. This was how we moved. We had bags of stuff that we would carry with us..."bag lady" not really being a phrase that was around, and there were also a lot of hiding places for our "stuff."

After we had moved in and learned how to live in the dark...empty meant no electricity, no water, no heat, but it was Florida so a lot of that didn't really matter. And, I learned how to shop for groceries. This shopping consisted of shoplifting. My mother would be the look-out and I would be the innocent waif with the hot dogs crammed down my pants. It worked quite well and I was never caught.

Unfortunately, since it worked so well, I learned to head out on my own forays. Screw the hot dogs, bring on the candy and the books. I would find my own places to hide out as my mother made her way through daily living. This generally consisted of looking for a new "daddy" and a more stable living situation.

At one point in time, she had made contact with some "church folk" who took us under their wings and found us a place to stay while we "got on our feet." Mother was a glib one and I'm not quite sure which tragedy it was that she used, but it worked.

They also brought us some clothing and food stuffs. Amongst the free food was a home canned jar of peaches. I would swear that the label on it said "EAT ME" and not "Peaches." I wanted those damn peaches. Looking at them on the kitchen shelf, glistening with sweetness through the green tint of the canning jar, was almost too much to bear.

I knew better than to ask for the peaches. One way to guarantee not getting something, was to ask for it. That particular messsage has managed to stay with me throughout my adulthood and has lead to a stubborness that hasn't always served me well. And, so, I kept my lips sealed and my eyes on those peaches for what seemed an eternity.

At some point, my mother decided it was time to pay back those wonderful church folk, she did not lack in the social niceties...and she invited the pastor and his wife over for dinner. She had found a job at Sears by this time and "our" home had developed a bit of style provided by the five finger discount of my mothers and the plethora of goods at her place of employment.

As they sat down to dinner, I kept my silence in one of the empty kitchen cabinets. Scrunched over with a stolen book and the door cracked to let just enough light in to discern the words on the page. I watched as the door swung open and shut from the kitchen to the dining room and the bowls and plates of food were carried out. I held my breath waiting to overhear some of the grown up gossip that I was sure to pick up.

All of a sudden, the swinging door opened and my mother entered the kitchen to prepare the dessert. I almost choked as I heard that can of peaches being opened and poured into a bowl. Holy shit. Those are MY peaches. Minister or not, I had to keep my eyes on them.

I slipped into the dining room, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, and endured the pathetic attempts by the adults to pay some attention to a gangly, homely, silent seven year old. They started passing those peaches around and I stood up on the back of the preacher's chair and watched as they consumed peaches with no idea at all of how much they were killing me.

As the bowl went around for the second time, as the last peach was being placed in the minister's bowl, I could handle it no more. The mouth, aged far beyond the years of the owner, moved. "I can see you people don't care too much for those goddamned peaches." Sarcasm, cursing, speaking out of turn, all behaviors punishable by backhands and belts were right out there on the table next to the empty bowl of peaches.

As the minister's wife fanned herself, as the minister choked on my goddamned peaches, as my mother headed my direction I ran as fast as I could without a glance over my shoulder. It didn't matter if or when I returned, whenever it was would certainly bring about some major damage to my body. So, off I headed to the grocery store. I stole my own goddamned can of peaches...one of those weird can openers that had the sharp pointy things on one end and a corkscrew in the handle...and headed off to the garage in the neighborhood where I had stashed all the Popular Mechanics magazines I had stolen (dorky kid, I know) and opened that can of peaches and stabbed them with that can opener and ate them as the sticky juice ran down my arms and dripped off my elbows.

Screw the minister's kindness, screw the glories of religion...I had found heaven, in that can of peaches. To this day, one of the first comfort foods that comes to mind, peaches are my favorite. Maybe this summer, I will try and can some. I know the canned ones are good, but I bet I could find that color of a canning jar and bottle me up some peaches and find me some heaven again.

AS FREUD ONCE SAID...THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS TOO LOOSE AN ASSOCIATION...

POPE #1...A number of them have passed in my lifetime. Pius the XII was the last one that had any real impact upon my life. My mother had married a hunchbacked, alcoholic who also happened to be a Catholic. While she didn't have to convert, I did. My life had been quite disrupted and bizarre to this point, so turning me over to the Catholics had to be the only step available. I mean, it would be like throwing gasoline to put out a fire. Warning, disaster ahead!

There were a more than a couple of problems encountered. I was looking for escape on any level and those Carmelites were more than happy to send me on my way to brown-sack-cloth land. Next, and more importantly, was that I had a far too well-developed sense of logic for any of the Catholic mysticism stuff they were peddling. This led to quite a schizophrenic couple of years. On the one hand, buying into the "Jesus would save me from the hell I was being raised in", while on the other, the absolute certainty that priests went to magician's school and that's where the capes and all the wine into blood stuff came from. And, Latin sounded a lot like abbra-caddabra to me.

Anyway, back to that Pius guy...when he died, we were marched to the chapel to pray for his soul. On our knees. Our wobbling along was accentuated by the pain I was experiencing from having been born with the "housewive's knees" bumps that made any pressure more than excruciating. I decided to apply that well developed logic at this point and asked, "Sister, why are we praying for the Pope? Isn't he the "closest thing to God on Earth"? Why aren't we praying for somebody who really needs it?" (You can see it coming, can't you?)

While logic has always ruled my life, common sense hasn't. As you can tell. Palms out, awaiting the sting of the metal edged ruler, I lost my final. tenuous connection to that redemption that they had held out for me.

Hell in a handbasket. I had heard it so many times it had lost its fear provoking powers and I joyfully jumped in with the full knowledge that any church that could justify anything with the term "blind faith" wasn't going to be pulling me, unwillingly, into any heaven that was designed as a gated community with rules that were far to difficult to figure out.

To be continued...

YUP, IT'S BEEN A LONG AND UGLY WEEK

So, there I was minding my own business...as much as I can mind my own business...when this tickle cough thing developed in my chest. Oh well, we can move past this, I have had the flu shot, the pneumonia shot, it's the end of March, it's probably just the beginning of the hated allergy season.

Last Saturday wasn't so bad...Sunday wasn't so great...and by early Sunday afternoon when I was huddled under six blankets and couldn't stop shivering, I had to admit, there might be something wrong. Started to throw up. This is not a good sign. I know, take the temp, 102.5, take some aspirin...back to bed...continue to shiver, only worse. Jaw now hurts. Head hurts. Take temp again...103.5...uh oh, this means something. My wonderful skills as a diagnostician kick into overdrive as I tell my roommate she has to drive me into town to the emergency room.

Long story short... IV's to combat the dehydration--with antibiotics to combat the "borderline" pneumonia, two shots of Dilaudid for massive brain pain--into every life a little sunshine must fall, more tylenol--hell, it hasn't worked so far, save it for someone who can't take real drugs, and a mere lifetime later I am back home in bed...until today.

Yesterday wasn't so bad, I went out on a limb and had eggs and toast...whoopee, and when that worked splurged with my first meal in almost a week...that would have been the infamous, frozen pepperoni pizza. Pitiful, aren't I. I had broth and tea for the four days leading up to that, with a side of applesauce thrown in for variety. As far as I was concerned, that pizza was pure heaven.

Today I went to work for three hours and am now at Tina and Caden's. The computer is not fixed yet, so in my fever driven mind I couldn't surf the net for "Nose Rings made from soup cans" on Google. The other things that happened or didn't...Terri died...hell, I was ready to die for her just to get the issue out of my face. What I do with my life and my death are my business and I really wish you would keep yours in the same place. Then, when did someone NOT dying become so damned interesting. Hey! Guess what. The pope still isn't dead. Hey! Guess what. The pope still isn't dead. I remember when Popes just magically died (Pius XII) or unexplainedly died (because a Catholic Pope can be too liberal?)...this is going to be the second death watch within a period of a month and as I always wonder when sensationalized news takes over...Didn't anything else happen? Remember how the world quit making news after 9/11? I really thought that when the news came back that the world could have fallen off of its axis for all of the coverage it would have gotten.

Now, the highlight of this week was the Food Network. I have learned the difference between Greek and Turkish baklava, how to make "Fake" Baked Ziti, that Iron Chef America sucks...give me back that guy with the pompadour...But, the real highlight was the additional prescription for Lortab. Let's see, "You're sick, antibiotics...you're vomiting, anti nausea medication, you have a headache...have some Lortab." Hell, I was so loaded on the Dilaudid, I even brought up Oxycontin since it is my one last drug to "test" out. I finally see that back when I really wanted all of this shit, I should have just told them I was 58 and they would have fallen all over themselves giving it to me. Now, it just adds up in the hidden stash simply for my amusement and because I feel like I'm getting away with something.

Okay, that's it. This was quite exhausting and there only so much one can do...Caden was my sweetie and filled in...twice...for me...and now, I am back. Although, I am sure that there are some who would question it.