HOW DID THE HIPPIE CHICK WHO STOOD SO CLOSE TO THE SPEAKERS AT CONCERTS THAT HER CHEEKS WERE BLOWN BACK FROM THE AIR THAT WAS BEING PUSHED OUT END UP AS THE OLD LADY WHO SAYS:

• I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW YOU CAN LISTEN TO THAT, YOU CAN'T EVEN UNDERSTAND THE WORDS.
• IF YOU DON'T TURN THAT DOWN, YOU'RE GOING TO HURT YOUR EARS FOR LIFE.
• WHY DO THEY DRESS LIKE THAT?
• TURN THAT DOWN, I CAN'T HEAR MYSELF THINK!

PLEASE...WILL YOU ALL TELL ME THAT I'M NOT THAT OLD...JUST SMARTER?

IT'S QUITE A DAY IN RUSSIAN HISTORY

From left to right:

"I shall continue to be an impossible person so long as those who are possible remain possible." Mikhail Badunin, the Russian anarchist, born on this day in 1814

On this day in 1960, Boris Pasternak died at the age of 70.

Maxim Gorky, arrested on charges of printing revolutionary literature, was released from prison in 1901.

HERE THEY ARE..

CADEN AND JONATHON AT SIX IN THE MORNING

(I WILL BE CALLING THE CAT JONNY!)

WHAT'S NEW? WELL, THERE'S THE CAT!

After my roommate's last cat kicked the bucket last fall, we went through a period of having only one pet. It was, I think, the first time she had gone without a cat for quite a long time. I, however, was happy to be down to one pet. That is, until I discovered that we had more than one pet, after all.

The other pets took the form of horrid little grey things that had whiskers, beady little eyes, and long hairless, tails. That's right. MICE! Mice were everywhere. Without the inbred deterrent that a cat is, they were taking over.

I was in the kitchen last week making a sandwich, heard the pans that were hanging in the cabinet rattle, opened the door and found a good sized mouse just sitting there, taking stock of me and wondering where the hell the crumbs were. That was it. Of course, immediately after that I started finding mouse turds everywhere I looked. Definitely, time for a cat.

We couldn't really get a kitten as we aren't home enough to keep it from totally destroying everything while we were gone. So it was a pound kitty, one year old, short hair and as of yet with no name. Caden is coming over tonight and will have the honor of naming him. I have had a couple of cats in the past that resembled this one. One was named Clayton Jesse Arthur, III. He needed a name that important as he was a Minnesota Snow Cat and had feet large enough to be snowshoes and a body that was prepared for professional cat football. The other black and white cat that I had was named Butch. I got Butch from my friends Linda and Anne when they needed a home for him. Butch was quite a cat. His best friend for a while was a dog named Kahlo who licked him into a fur ball of unimaginable consequences. Butch was also a Buddhist cat. He never killed any of the prey he went after. He very gently would bring it to me and drop it directly at my feet as if to say, "Now what?" He eventually went back to live with Linda and Anne who still have him and his Buddhist ways. No-Name (as I am referring to him until he is properly named) proved his worth by killing his first mouse last night. Unfortunately he has spent today in the position above, resting on his laurels.

We will soon see if he is worth the fur he is printed on. I think he will live up to his start. We got him from the pound where he had been for six months. One of his ears looks like he might have had a scrap or two in his earlier days. He is very loving and immediately identified the food dish and my bed as his favorite places in the house. He is not too sure about Jules. And I will give Jules her props, she just stands back and wonders when this silly cat will get past his attitude and get on with the buddy stuff. I will definitely update as soon as Caden names him and now am fearful that I will be posting those Friday Cat Pix...

TYRONE, HONEY, I'VE GOT A MESSAGE FOR YOU

I really love it when people comment on my posts. It means that I am having some effect, one way or the other. I have read of other bloggers who have gotten spam in their comments and of all the hassles they have had to go through to stop it. Luckily, that hasn't been a problem for me.

I have had two instances of spam remarks. One was for a porno sight featuring pix of horny grannies and for some reason (who's kidding who here?) I deleted it. The second I received yesterday. From Tyrone.

Blogroll me back http://provident****news.****.com/****.xml

# posted by Tyrone : 3:13 PM

(DON'T CLICK THE LINKS, THEY WON'T TAKE YOU ANYWHERE)

It was nice of the young man to ask me to Blogroll him back. I thought here is another guy who finds my particular wit and wisdom irresistible and feels that he, too, has something to "share" with me. Not being such a link whore that I would just jump right on the invitation, I decided to check out what Tyrone had to offer. Well, here comes the message to Tyrone:

TYRONE:

Honey, it was really nice of you to show interest in my blog and offer me a chance to give you exposure on mine. But, Tyrone, I was extremely disappointed when I checked out your blog and discovered that it was a religious tract that definitely was not at all related to any of my postings. Okay, I put a picture of the pope up with a pitcher of beer, but that's it. And, to top things off, you don't even have a Blogroll on your page, so you were lying to me when you intimated that I would be blogrolling you "back."

Now, darlin', here's how it goes. I don't want your stinkin' religious spam in my comments section. My majors in college were Philosophy and Religious Studies. Thanks for offering to furnish some Bible Study areas of YOUR religious beliefs, but, at this point in time, it's a little redundant and I have my own syllabus for dealing with my spirituality.

I have nothing against Religion...I do have issues with: religious bigots, proselytizers, and people who disrespect other's search for spirituality. My spirituality is my business and will be dealt with privately by me. If you, however, are interested in which direction it lies, look at the miracle occurring in the bottom photo and think about it. Or, throw on some gospel music, you know, some really rockin' spirituals, jump up, clap your hands and shout it out!

I've said this the nicest way possible. Please, take it with that intent.

Thank you,

Princess

PS: Don't make me get up in your face about this!

FOOD, MY FAVORITE MEAL

I am sure you have all heard me talk about food from time to time...okay, a little more often than that. My newest food discovery is just a twist on an old favorite. I am sure that many of you have had, the all time favorite--hot pepper jelly.

You spread it on a cracker with some creamed cheese and down as many as you can. If you are me, you can call it a meal. After all, those little crackers in sufficient quantity can fill a person.

There is now a new twist to this delight. It comes with GARLIC! Now, as you spread the creamed cheese onto a cracker (preferably not saltines, but in a pinch those will suffice) and dip your knife into the green jelly, a wonderful aroma of garlic wafts over you and the mouth starts to anticipate the sensuality of the sweetness of the jelly combined with the heat of the peppers and the seductiveness of the garlic. Your mouth will water in anticipation of the mixing flavors as you bring the cracker up to it.

Now comes the real question...do you make them one at a time? Or, do you line up a row of crackers already prepared and ready for consumption?

REMEMBER WHEN I SAID I NEVER WANTED TO SEE THAT COMMERCIAL WITH ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION MENTIONED IN IT AND ABOUT ERECTIONS LASTING OVER FOUR HOURS...LET ME TELL YOU, I WILL WATCH THAT 50 MILLION TIMES IF IT MEANS I DON'T HAVE TO SEE SADDAM HUSSEIN IN HIS TIGHTY WHITIES ONE MORE TIME!

TODAY MALCOM X WOULD HAVE BEEN 80

As reported in DEMOCRACY NOW:

Today is Malcolm X's birthday. Had he lived, he would have been 73 years old. In his life and his work, Malcolm sought to redress the imbalances of America's racist legacy by re-formulating the political, economic, and historical place of African Americans. He sought to accomplish this in part by visiting Africa himself in an effort to find a new connection to the land.

(This is taken from a previously published book.)

REMEMBER!

CAN'T WAIT FOR OKTOBERFEST!

THIS IS ALL HER FAULT SO DON'T BLAME ME

At some point in everyone's life, the word "colonoscopy" raises its ugly head and nothing will ever be the same. I am the perfect case in point. Let me start this out with a little background information. To begin with, I was the kid in grammar school who had to raise her hand to go pee while class was in session because she could never pee if anyone else was in the bathroom with her. This has led to years of kidney and bladder infections.

As far as taking a poop, I had a saying, "I don't poop and if I did, it would smell like "roses." I didn't talk about it, I didn't acknowledge the fact that I, or anyone else, pooped, and as far as I was concerned, that porcelain bowl sitting on the floor of the bathroom did not exist.

Then, low and behold, a few years ago, at age 50 or so, I was told to hit the gastroenterologist for a probing known as a "colonoscopy." This was well before cute, little Katie Couric lost a husband to colon cancer and had a much publicized colonoscopy on television. Assholes aren't so sacrosanct anymore. Mine, however, was not so entertaining. I ordered all the drugs there were available and then some. The prep is something I don't even want to go into, suffice to say the next colonoscopy found me far more prepared with a number of handy little aids: Zinc Oxide Ointment, Aloe Vera Wet Wipes and plenty of shallow magazines for bathroom reading.

Of course, the first colonoscopy had to show some of the pesky pre-malignant polyps which means that for the following two years, there will be an annual probing, so to speak. Somewhere in between the first and second colonoscopy I found that the discussion of my asshole and its habits seemed to slip into conversation a bit easier. I was no longer so retentive regarding my bathroom habits.

The other thing that is important to mention is the personality of the physician who was performing the anal probes. None. Nil. Not a smidgen. I am sure if I were looking at the ass end of people's personality, I wouldn't have such a rosy outlook on life, but I would certainly recognize that a patient's needs for a few giggles in an uncomfortable situation. This man appeared to have the personality of a glass of warm water. My perfect match, so to speak.

On the third go round, there were a few mishaps in the "operating" room. First of all, he couldn't find his stethoscope. I could detect that the nurses in the room were just a little tired of "His Royal Assholishness" and his demands and the kind of had a tinge of sarcasm in their voices as they pointed out that that it was hanging on a hook right next to him. I made eye contact with one of them, rolled my eyes and got a little lift at the corner of her mouth.

Now one of the advantages of this procedure is the drugs. Drugs to kill pain, drugs to relax and drugs to help you not remember. I had had the first two and was a little giddy and enjoying it as only an aging hippie can when the Doc started asking me questions. What the hell was this. He'd never even acknowledged that I was anything more than an Asshole (joining the ranks of my ex-husbands) in the past.

"Have you ever had hemorrhoids before?" What the f**k? Not only is this man probing my asshole, he wants ME to talk about it. I fall back on my customary and obligatory sarcasm and answer, "Not until I started hanging out with you!" The nurses and I lost it at the same time. We were cracking up, I would have sworn one of them had blown some snot as quickly as she reached for a Kleenex. Doc, now Doc didn't crack a grin. And the look he gave the nurses caused guffaws to diminish to snorts to huffs and then to silence. I thought it was my best line ever, or at least up there at the top of the list somewhere.

So since my asshole has been viewed by a variety of strangers on a number of occasions, and since one of my best lines ever took place during one of these experiences, I have readily joined the masses of middle aged women who can and will readily speak of their assholes and its experiences.

Your Political Profile

Overall: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Social Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

How Liberal / Conservative Are You?

Once again I wander into the path of thinking that there is something new for me to find out about myself and once again I find that...no, Sarah, you are still the same "Commie, Pinko, Hippie, Freak" that you were in 1968 and will probably be until the day you die!

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE!

WHAT THE HELL'S UP WITH YOUR
NOSE?

Mother's Day was wonderful. I cooked spaghetti for Tina and the boy and we ate until we couldn't move and then topped it off with strawberry shortcake. Then we laid around and moaned about how uncomfortable we were and laughed about how we all wished we just make room for more.

Monday was work day again and doctor's appointment to try and figure out a way to deal with this ongoing snot, illness, and general malaise. She thinks that with the emphysema and asthma I am predisposed to situational lung disease and that allergies are setting up a perfect environment for infection. Bring on the drugs, in other words.

In addition to the Advair and Flonase samples to use, she hands me Claritin. You know, the "non-drowsy" antihistamine. I am to use these for a month and then go in for another lung function test. Whoopee. More steroids and pills to deal with.

Last night, I followed the regimen. Taking all the medications and snorting and huffing as prescribed, I fall into bed for a night's sleep and work in the morning. Now, I have taken Benadryl for years for allergies and have enjoyed the somewhat beneficial side effects of floating while under its influence. I love it when being loaded falls under the premise of "medicine." So, I thought nothing of the pill.

That is, I thought nothing of the new pill until this morning when I attempted to wake up and get ready for work. I was lucky I could make it downstairs to pee I was so deep asleep. I was thirsty and drank from my hand at the bathroom faucet because I knew I couldn't make it to the kitchen and back upstairs to the bed. I re-awoke at 9:30 and called work and said there was not a way in hell I was going to be capable of driving, much less be worth what
they pay me if I came in.

Now, those of you who thought I would be staying home today anyway for the DSL install will be pleased to know that I shan't be getting DSL since I live 400 feet past the 18,000 feet limit. Come on folks, this is the 21st century. Give me my high speed.

Oh, did I forget to mention that the other advise the doc gave was dropping some pounds. This is the same doctor who a little more than a year ago told me she liked her "elderly patients to have a little added weight just in case." Well, I guess my case has passed its limits and I need to drop some of this emergency stash that I have been pounding on (so to speak) "just in case."

Here come the salad lunches, the whole grains, and the healthy eating that I intellectually know and willingly ignore in favor of chocolate, spaghetti and any other carbohydrate standing in line. I won't be subjecting you to one of those little "Here I am and here is where I want to be" ribbons that others have on their websites. Instead I will simply let you know...when I can fit into more than two pair of my jeans and can see my feet again.

I am sure that not weighing enough to fight heavyweight will make going up and down the stairs a bit easier. Onward and upward with the healthful eating and the diminishing Sarah.

PS: The doggie wouldn't let me shave her for easier access to the wound on her side. So, instead, I have been washing her wound daily and applying antibiotic cream to the wound. She seems to be fine, other than her fear of vibrating, hand held appliances.

A couple of the neighbors have suggested I spray paint the offending dog with bright orange florescent paint to announce to its owner that it is venturing into places it shouldn't be.

SNAFU SNAFU SNAFU SNAFU

"One of those days?" you ask. As we say in Minnesota "YOU BETCHA!" followed closely behind by a few of these, "&*#%#!!."

I haven't mentioned it, but it has been a little over a year since I started doing this. I wasn't too hot to begin with and some may say (and do) that I'm not so hot now. In celebration I decided to give myself a little present and have ordered a new skin, new hosting, and....DSL. Today was the day the DSL was to be installed. Since I live in Timbuktu they can do nothing more than tell me they will be here on Thursday, May 5th. Groovy.

I take the day off work. Oh, did I mention the hard drive died on my satellite DVR the other day and after having been on hold for an hour they told me it would be delivered today, too. Great. What's the saying? Kill two birds with one stone? Who is kidding whom? This is Sarah. Her life just does not run like that.

First. Put the dog out. It's a beautiful day, the dog crawls into the little hole she has dug under one of the lilac bushes (which may bloom by August if I'm lucky) and sets out to spend the day guarding the homestead. Soon, I hear a bark. She is so good that nary a monster dares come into the yard. But, the 'crazy lady that lives down the road's' dog does come into the yard. Usually Jules is inside all day while I'm at work, so I don't know if this is the usual week day behavior of this dog. Jules, though, is having none of it. Barking commences, then squeals as I run to the window and yell for that asshole dog to get out of here. I call Jules to the front of the house and she comes in, dripping blood from a bite that she has on her side. Doggy first aid, coming up. Cold water on a paper towel, trying to calm the dog down and clear out dog fuzz at the same time blood is dripping all over the floor. SHI-I-I-I-I-T! Finally get it cleaned out and put some antibiotic cream on the gash and spend a half hour telling her that she's a good doggy and it's going to be okay.

Then, the UPS guy comes to drop off the new receiver. The DSL guy still hasn't shown up. And, Jules is doing her best to "scare" the UPS guy off, but is whimpering like a baby because of her "ow-ey." I start to unhook and rehook the reciever...one cable at a time so I don't get confused and the DSL guy shows up...as does the loudest, windiest, rainiest storm of the season starts.

This puts the dog into a minor fit. She hates thunder. I run to unplug the computer. The DSL guy says he'll wait until the storm passes to start the process. Blah Blah Blah. Storm passes. Guess what? Both phone lines are gone. That kills the DSL installation. Phone service starts up again after six, well after phone guy leaves.

So, I'll have to take another day off of work in an attempt to hook up to the internet at more than a snail's pace. What am I going to do now? I am going downstairs and making lemon poppyseed muffins, hot dogs and baked beans and eat until I puke...as I said before SHI-I-I-IT!!!