Pouty McPout-Pout

Do you know what I forgot to do last week?

I got up, showered, worked, studied, attended classes, cared for the Buglettes, fed the pets, emptied the trash, and blogged. Then I went to bed, got up, and did it all again.

I remembered to brush my teeth.
I even wore underwear (some days).

But I never put on my sense of humor.

It occurred to me this evening that I was being WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY to serious.

Not that a broken leg is funny.

But there are things that a sense of humor can do for a gal to help her push her way to the next level of stress.

It didn't occur to me until this evening that I haven't really laughed since LoveBug got hurt.
No, it's still not funny.

But life is funny. Life is humorous. Life is too long and too short. You should laugh every single day.

My smile has been plastered on my face like a bad wax job. But it's never been a real smile.

Sometime this evening I snapped. I had class until 9:30, and since I was only ten minutes from the office, I drove on over and picked up some work to take home with me. After being quizzed by security, I gathered up some stuff, tackled a shitty network, overcame another hurdle, and took the elevator back down to the first floor.

An hour later, this chubby guy that works for the cleaning company stopped me as I stepped off the elevator.

"Late night?"

"Um, yeah."

"What are you doing here at this hour?"

"Well, my husband is healing from an injury, and I'm working from home for a few days."

"Oh, do you work for the State Attorney?"

"No, I'm a court reporter."

"Well, there are no courts going on at this hour."

"Well, yes, I know this. However, I'm working on some designations, so I can do that at any hour."

"You mean you're taking confidential information outside of the courthouse?"

And I looked at this Elmer Fuddster pushing his trashcan and said,

"So, how's that mop working out for you?"

That's when I snapped. Well, it could be argued that I snapped just before making this inappropriate comment.

But as I left him in a trail of dust he'll have to clean up, I started to chuckle.

Then I started giggling.

When I made it to the parking lot, I started laughing.

By the time I made it to the Jeep, tears were streaming down my face.

And I laughed almost the entire way home.

It's 1:30am, and I'm as energized as I've ever been.

I can't wait for LoveBug to wake up in the morning and look to me for his healing care.

I was going to steal one of his Lortabs, but I think I'm going to be okay now.

This is Funky, and that is all.

No Me-Me for Me Today

This entire week will most likely be "real time" blogging. I have neither the time nor the energy to pull something creative out of my ass.

LoveBug is home and resting as comfortably as possible. He's in a fair amount of discomfort, but all things considered I suppose it could be worse. I have to find him an ortho here in town for a follow-up asap. We're hanging our hopes on the thought that he didn't blow his knee as well, but it's not looking good. The majority of his pain is centered in that area. If he did, well... more surgeries are in his near future.

It's good that he's here, and that he's under my care, it really is. BUT I never realized how much we accomplish as a pair until I had to do it alone.

There's bills to be paid.
Calls to make.
Research to do.
Faxes to be sent.
Kids to be driven.
Meals to be fixed.
Trash to be taken.
Mail to be sent.
Laundry
Yard Work
Pets
Housework
Remodeling

And to top that off, I have school and work

And a husband to care for.

It means so much to him that I bring him cold water or hot coffee
A banana or a bowl of cereal
Charge his phone
Find him an ortho
Give him a spongebath
Hold the spit cup so he can brush his teeth
Stand behind him while he uses the restroom so he doesn't lose his balance and tumble back

And with all this going on, you're probably wondering why the hell I'm blogging?

I have to write. I have to get it out. I have to scream at the screen to keep myself sane.

He asked if I was alright.
I said, "I'm not broken."
He said, "Yet."

I've never been good at hiding my feelings.

This is Funky, and that is all.

Live Drive Friday 2

*Scroll down for HNT*




Special love and thanks go out to Kami at Dallas Ks for visiting LoveBug today, for taking him chocolate and pr0n, and for sending me these pictures so I can see my baby.

For those of you that aren't into AudioBlogging, here's a recap:

LoveBug is doing great -- he's in very little pain, and he's being released Friday morning. He's got a car and driver scheduled to take him to the airport, and I'll be picking him up Friday evening.

I really have to say thank you to all of you for your outpouring of love and prayers and thoughts and positive energy and cyber-hugs, etc... Words cannot express what they have done for me. It takes a village to raise a bitch, and you are my village. You are amazing -- all of you. I love you even if I don't know you.

Have a wonderful weekend, my beautiful friends.

HNT - Because I'm Really Naked Without Him

This has really and truly been the day from hell. I can't believe how hard it is to do nothing.

Just so you know -- there is no price tag too steep to keep me from him. Yes, airfare was ridiculous, but that was only one hurdle: we have kids here that needed a parent/guardian who could take care of them properly. My mom is not well enough, though she offered. We have workers coming in to do more stuff in the kitchen. We have a legal proceeding that must be attended too. We have stuff, and the bottom line is that I let him talk me in to staying put.

I'm just amazed at the outpouring of love for my LoveBug, including you Texas Bloggers who have offered to go see him in my stead. You know, he has lots of friends there who attended the meeting with him, but knowing that MY friends are representing just makes me feel warm and tingly. It's the small comfort in the midst of the big bad.

He sailed through the surgery and we've spoken during his lucid moments. He's sore, but not too uncomfortable. The staff at Medical City have been absolutely wonderful. Even the recovery nurse has called me to see if I needed anything.

I do, of course. I need my husband home, or I need to be with my husband. I'm more than half-nekkid without him. I'm fully exposed.

This is Funky, and that is all.
>

This One Goes Out to the Bug I Love

I was finishing things up at work and getting ready to head home when my cell rang. LoveBug, who is in Dallas, TX for a business trip, greeted me with a tired, crackling voice. As I'm shoving things in my purse and shutting down my computer, I hear him say something about having a three hour break from his meeting...went to the mall...ice skating rink...emergency room.

I tell him that's not funny.

He says he's serious. He broke his leg in several places and he's in the emergency room at Medical City Hospital.

Then he calls me back to tell me that they're admitting him so they can take him into surgery as soon as he's stable. They have to put a titanium plate in his leg.

He's in Texas.
I'm in Florida.

Do you see the problem here?

I called my sister, who agreed to bring my mom over to stay with the kids.
I stocked ran to the grocery store and stocked the pantry and fridge with plenty of food.
I called both my professors and told them I wouldn't be in class this week.
I called my office and left word that I'd be out until Monday.
I looked for last minute flights to Dallas.
They were outrageous.

With much crying and gnashing, LoveBug and I decided that it's best if I stay here in Florida and hold down the fort for him.

But shouldn't I BE there? Shouldn't I spend a couple grand and fly over to hold his hand? Shouldn't I be there when they're setting his splint and he's screaming in pain? Shouldn't I?

I feel like someone took a vacuum and shoved it through my chest, sucking out my soul and leaving my physical body drained.

He's not my better half -- he's my whole. And right now he's still in the ER, still waiting for a room to become available. And he hurts. And I can't do a damned thing but cry.

This is Funky, and this beyond sucks.

Self-Diagnosis

So I'm just sitting at my desk, minding my own business, Sim-ing away while LoveBug sits behind me killing terrorists.

I work quietly, lovingly, designing the kitchen for a new home that some Sim will be moving into this week.

And after my work is done, I say, "Hey Honey -- lookie see what I did! I designed a kitchen with some downloads I snarfed up."

He takes off his headset and looks over at my screen. Then he makes this sound. This "tsk" sound. It's barely audible, this "tsk", but I freaking heard it.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing" he says.

"No, you made the 'tsk' sound. What? You think I'm stupid for playing Sims, don't you? You think I should be inside doing laundry, or studying, or reading a good novel, or practicing my photography, don't you? You think I'm living out my dreams vicariously through a computer simulated game, right? You think I'm sick because I downloaded a skin that makes Jodes look like she was smacked on the ass during rough sex, right? What? WHAT? Just say it. SAY IT."

"Well, I don't know who Jodes is, but you put the stove next to the refridgerator. You should really move it to the other side of the room."

This is Funky, and that is all.

Me-Me #16 -- Not Good Decisions

Welcome to another installment of, "Come ON -- tell me the WHOLE story!" otherwise known as "I love to talk about myself", and in a pinch can be called Me-Me Monday. The object of the game is to refer to your 101 Things About Me list, pick one of your "things" and tell the whole sordid tale. If you're new and you want to grab this image for your post, see the instructions at the end of my post.


16. 21 year old girls are not good decision makers.

Sigh -- I feel like I'm picking on the ex this month. It's so not my intention. But seeing as I haven't revised my 101 Things List, I guess I'll just roll with it. Sorry, Cory.

I think I pretty much touched on some of the things that led me into my first marriage. What I didn't touch on specifically were all the stupid decisions I made in that 21st year of my life. I say they're stupid because they were made with no thought as to how they would affect the people around me, or myself for that matter.

Not Good Decision #1: Better Than Being Single

I chased a guy that didn't really want to be chased.
He was the rebound guy. He was the guy that gave my ex-boyfriend the alibi he needed to cheat on me in the first place. He admitted he did it so that he could be that rebound guy. Any self-respecting woman would have given him the boot. I just kept chasing him.

Not Good Decision #2: The Girl From Planet Denial

I had sex without any form of protection outside of a pill that I kept forgetting to take.

Not Good Decision #3: Honestly, I Just Like Big Sweaters

When I realized I was pregnant, I told no one. Not one single soul.

Not Good Decision #4: It Takes A Denny's to Raise a Fetus

I kept up the "not pregnant" charade for 8.5 months. During this time, my best friend Tony took me to dinner every night after he got off work. I'm surprised my daughter doesn't look like a grilled cheese sandwich.

Not Good Decision #5: I Said "Yes"

When I finally broke down and told Cory that I was pregnant he said (and yes, I quote -- a girl does NOT forget these things), "Well, I was going to go to the farm on Tuesday, but I guess we're getting married." Is this the proposal a little girl dreams of? I think not.

Not Good Decision #6: I Sold My Soul to the Company Store

I let Cory convince me to give up the lease on my apartment and move to a trailor in the country... out of town...that my future in-laws would purchase... and we would be in debt to them for...right..out.of.the.gate.

Not Good Decision #7: Location, Location, Location

The night before the wedding I recall this me-to-me conversation:

What are you doing?
I guess I'm getting married.
Why?
Well, I guess because I have to.
Why?
Because...look, if it doesn't work out, I just get a divorce. It never hurts to try.

And see, this is the ultimate Not Good Decision because it DOES hurt to try -- it hurts the husband who tries but never succeeds at making you happy, it hurts the kids who got ten good years with two miserable parents, only to have the rug pulled out from under them, and it hurts the family and friends that you all divy up when you sign the papers and walk away.

And I'm not anti-divorce -- do not mistake my words. But if you buy a house on a fault line, and an earthquake takes it down to the ground, would you say that was a GOOD decision? If you said, "Well, if an earthquake comes, I'll just run for cover", who can you really blame? After all, if the foundation is cracked, you don't buy the house.

And just like Usher, these are my confessions.



Let me know if you played so's I can give you that linky lovin!

Here's the instructions for scarfing up this image for your Me-Me Monday:
Make sure you replace the parenthesis with < > .

(a href="http://funkybug.blogspot.com/")
(img src="http://static.flickr.com/29/43386062_d480de8e1d_o.jpg" border="0")(/a)

Remember... no "()", but "<>"


This is Funky, and that is all.

Live Drive Friday #1

Just me bitching up a storm -- it's what I do best.

Or... I offer an alternative -- a photo for your amusement. I know some people just don't have the audioblogging bug, so the Bug will offer you a shot of my pup Winnie Foo. No, not just because she's damned cute, but because I really love the way this shot came out.

HNT - The Song in My Head

"It's all about the song in my head, the one where the audience is all dead"

-- Boys Night Out

This is the last of my Mirror Images series. I thought it was appropriate that it landed behind my Idol Confessions.

I know you sweet ones of HNT have about 200 or so half-nekkid folks to catch up with this evening, so I'll keep this short.

Once upon a time I had a vision -- literally. That vision grew into a song. That song grew into a love of songwriting. That love once saved my life.

But the song in my head these days --



This is Funky, and that is all.

My American Idol Audio Blog

So, yeah... I did that audioblogger thing... UPDATE: It worked!

Didn't show up again, did it?

Fuckers.

If it's not here by morning, I'll throw you something fresh from the oven.

So, how about Idol this evening?

Talk amongst yourselves.

OMFG -- It finally worked. Scroll down and plug your ears.

This is Funky, and that is all.

Oh, you know... this and that

This is what I mean by "Blogging in Real Time":

I sit down and just pull shit out of my ass to throw up here.

Sometime this week I will have my 30,000th visitor since installing a counter on my blog. (I started my blog in November of 04, but it was January before I put up the counter.)

There are 150 blogs that link to me.

Why? Why are you people reading this shit?

In other news, let's talk about Fridays, m'kay?

I have to tell you that I was just crAcking up as I read your comments on what to do for Fridays while Wise Funky Bloggers is on hiatus. You're a rip, you know that? I mean, y'all are funny as hell, sweet as shit, and intelligent as all get-out (again, why are you people reading this shit?)

So I've decided to hodge-podge Friday up, because frankly I like ALL your suggestions.

But let's address a few of them, okay?

Jayne suggests "Fuck You Friday" - I actually love this idea, but I'm not going to do it until Roxi gives me her permission. You see, every day is FUCK OFF day at Roxi's blog. So girl, if you say the word, I will most definitely run with this one, seeing as SO many of you were excited about all the various and assorted ways I can be pissy.

Mel suggested a guest writer for Fridays. Again, I'm up for that. It would take a lot of pressure off me and allow me to visit your blogs. If you're interested in guest/ghost writing my Friday posts, please let me know in the comments.

Shinta wants me to bitch on Fridays. Shinta comes around often, so she realizes that bitching is something I do effortlessly. I'm up for that too.

Chosa says I should get really naked, or post something funny or freaky that happened during the week. Girl, that's the SAME suggestion all rolled into one.

Logo wants "Photo Class Friday" where I talk about my adventures in photography and my imaginary pursuit of my instructor. Oh boy, this could get me in trouble -- especially combined with fuck-anything Friday.

M~ and Amy want to see my photography. Dammit those girls are good for my ego.

DB and Shephard say a summary of my week would be just fine. Well, sometimes my week is fairly boring, so if something great happens, I'll certainly throw it up here.

Suzanne wants to see what I collect, but dust is so hard to capture on film.

Mrs. Mogul suggests a photo of me eating cold pizza. Well, that will actually be happening quite often, so that might work too!

All in all, I'm going to make Fridays, YOUR Fridays. I'm taking your suggestions and I'm running with them. After all, it may be my blog, but you guys keep me blogging when I'm not really feeling it (again, why?).


This is Funky, and that is all.

Me-Me Monday - Not On the Books Yet

I'm sort of suspending Me-Me for the holiday. Some people have to go to work, some of us are going to enjoy our paid holiday. There's no reason to stop blogging for a holiday -- quite frankly, holidays give me more time to blog. But there's this brand new fact that hasn't made it to the 101 Things About Me List that I'm going to share with you.

A fact not yet on the books, and the reason I'm just not up to writing tonight.

I get weird headaches.

They aren't exactly migraines. They are way more than your average headache.

First my eyes start to hurt.
Then my nasal cavities.
Then I feel as if I'm running a fever, but in fact it's just my blood pressure rising.
Then my back starts to hurt. A lot.
Usually after that -- if I don't rest immediately -- my stomach begins to cramp.
Then my brain explodes inside my skull and I become a pile of mush.

I'm having such an episode as we speak. It started about 3:30 and culminated, oh, NOW.

So there's a fact for you, and a reason why I'm just not up to writing tonight.

Tomorrow I'm going to touch on those GREAT Friday suggestions you all commented with. I think I'm going to enjoy Fridays oh so much!

Be reverant today. A great man (who would have been a great man without his great deeds) gave up a lot to help us understand we're all cut from the same cloth, by the same creator.



This is Funky, and that is all.

Ideas? Anyone? Buehler? Buehler?

*If you're looking for my HNT, scroll down*


Okay -- it's waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay past my bedtime.

I just got home from classes a few minutes ago. After kissing the kids (who weren't in bed but should have been), then really kissing the hubby (who was it bed but I wish he wasn't), heating up some cold pizza (that once was probably good but now tastes like rubber), and cracking open a cold Heineken (which would have been easier if I'd found my can-opener, which I didn't), it's now 11:13pm. I have to get up for work in about seven hours.

So.................what?

So, I'm making an executive decision to suspend Wise, Funky Bloggers until this semester is over. There's no way I can put that together on Thursday nights with my crazy schedule. Sure, I could throw it together, but these Wise, Funky Bloggers deserve so much better than haphazard shit with a link attached.

I'm interested in finding out what YOU would like to see from me on Fridays. Now don't get crazy -- it's got to be relatively painless.

In the meantime, I'll just tell you that the darkroom IS about as close to heaven as one can get.

And no, I didn't even get to first base with my professor.

I'm really a good girl at heart. I really am. Stop laughing.

This is Funky, and that is all.

HNT - Hello Beautiful

If you remember the HNT from before the holidays, you remember that I utilized my daughter's desecrated mirror with surprising results. The commentary provided through a teenager's song catalogue added an interesting dimension to getting nekkid and baring skin and soul.

This is another shot from the series, Mirror Images.

As my daughter leaves her room each day for school or play, I can only image she takes one last glance in the mirror.

The words, "Hello Beautiful" follow her out the door.

How beautiful is that?

All our mirrors speak to us, but not often are they so kind.

"Your gray hairs are returning." "Oh look, a new wrinkle." "Those jeans look funny. Have you gained weight?" "Maybe you should try a different hairstyle."

I'm thinking it's time to take out my perma-marker and shut my mirror up, once and for all. That's a resolution I can really get behind -- or in front of, as the case may be.

What does your mirror say to you? After you tell me, go see the bOSs.


This is Funky, and that is all.

Killing myself with kindness

Listen, there's something you all should know:

Over there on my sidebar is my schedule through April.

Yeah, seriously.

Don't forget, I've got a 9 - 5 too.




I don't know how I'm going to keep this up.

Last night I was up until 12:30am trying to catch up on all my blogging friends.

I'm thinking this will not last long -- I will collapse.

So I want you to know -- love you as I do, that I can't visit every day. Not until this semester is over. Not until I'm not in class until 10pm three nights per week.

Not that I want you to stop visiting me...

But if I only stop by once or twice a week, please know it's not personal; it's preservation.

I love you, though!

This is Funky, and that is all.

Chasing Euglena

Isn't he pretty? His name is Henry and he's a Protist.

I began my last semester at my little community college this past week. I think I planned my courses along the way as best as can be expected. My last semester before graduation consists of one class I have been dreading, and one class I never dreamed I'd be allowed to take for college credit.
I'm attending classes on campus three nights a week -- more time on campus than I've ever committed to before. Here are my reflections on the upcoming semester as written in my notebook prior to each class beginning, and then immediately following.

BIOLOGY - In the beginning there was fright:
Auditorium-style seating on THIS campus? I
What's with these little deskette things attached to the side of the seats? How am I supposed to open my textbook AND take notes?
The professor looks harmless enough, I suppose. But that stack of papers he just handed out give me the impression that he's a bit compulsive. He also believes that plants think.
In a class this size, only 3 students will recieve A's.
No dropped tests or papers.
No extra credit.
No food or drink.
No breaks.
But hey, I caught a Euglena. I was damned excited about it too.

PHOTOGRAPHY - And it was very good:
You know you're in a good place when Sweet Baby James infiltrates the air, mingling with the tinge-y scent of chemicals and ink.
Torso-less mannequins stand as sentries along the tops of cabinets worn with age -- cabinets hanging as they were when the era this music debuted was original and young.
As a matter of interest, the newest thing in this classroom (besides the nervous students) is a larger-than-life display box for Adobe Creative Suite -- Premium, no less.
And those dark blue bottles gathering in the corner -- Dos Equis or developing chemicals? I've so much to learn.
He shoots professional commercial photography to pay his bills. He shoots everything else to feed his soul. His camera is his livelihood, and art is his life. He "lectures" over Janis Joplin and Simon and Garfunkel. He thinks the Rule of 3rds is stupid, and he just wants us to learn from our successes. He says the dark room is as close to heaven as anyone can get. This is the first time I've ever been tempted to sleep with a professor in order to get an A. I've never needed to, so is it bad that I want to?



This is Funky, and that is all.

Me-Me #15 -- The First Marriage

Welcome to another installment of, "Come ON -- tell me the WHOLE story!" otherwise known as "I love to talk about myself", and in a pinch can be called Me-Me Monday. The object of the game is to refer to your 101 Things About Me list, pick one of your "things" and tell the whole sordid tale. If you're new and you want to grab this image for your post, see the instructions at the end of my post.

PREFACE:

This is sort of a hard one to get started. You see, my ex-husband let me know a few months back that he discovered my blog.
So of course whenever I write something that might be uncomfortable for him to read, I always think about how to say it as kindly as possible. But in the end, this is my blog and my outlet, and I have to be true to mine-own self. With that in mind --



15. I married my first husband when I was 21.



My ex-husband was the best friend of my first serious boyfriend. (No names will be changed in the telling of this tale -- deal, boys.) Dougly (the bf) and I were living together and were "sort of" engaged (that means he was all talk and no ring, girls). We'd been together for close to three years when I found out he was sleeping with one of his co-workers. His confession after being pressed was that he was using Cory, his best friend, as his scapegoat. When he was supposedly fishing with Cory, he was actually trouser fishing with whatshername (no, I really don't remember her name).



I was mostly devastated because I was so much cuter than she was. Looking back, I remember tolerating him more than I loved him, but I did love him. Still, a woman scorned (a women who had her name on lease that was now solely her responsibility) is a woman on fire.



Cory was there to pick up the pieces. He brought me movies, he brought me beer, he brought me redemption. He was, and this he knows, a great rebound.



While Dougly went on to get engaged (ring and all, the bastard) to Krista (oh, that's her name), I continued seeing Cory on the weekends. He was a student at a university some two-hours away, so I drove my clunkermobile four hours round trip to hang with him.



His brother was killed in a car accident a few months later.

A few weeks after that I discovered I was pregnant.

A few months after that, Cory started having severe panic attacks.

A few months after that, I finally told him I was pregnant.

Three weeks later I gave birth to Cadibug.

Six weeks after that, we were married in the backyard of his mother's friend.

You can see, as this is all layed out in the core details, that this was not the proper foundation with which to build a marriage upon.

And yet, we managed to keep it together for ten years, through two kids, the light and joy of our lives.

Looking back I can see that at 21, I wasn't the best decision-maker in the world. Marrying under those circumstances is like baking a cake without flour -- or heat -- or eggs. It's not his fault, and it's not my fault, and it's not our kids fault. We were young, stupid, and idealistic. We thought we could make it work, and Cory, we did make it work for a lot longer than it should have.



Thanks for introducing me to country music, and thanks for stepping up when you didn't have to. Thanks for Cadibug and Cuddlebug. Thanks for paying your support on time, every week. Lots of daddies don't do that, and it's a testament to your character. I wasn't the best decision maker at 21, but you've never let that keep you from fulfilling your obligations and treating me with kindness. Gracie.



Let me know if you played so's I can give you that linky lovin!

Here's the instructions for scarfing up this image for your Me-Me Monday:
Make sure you replace the parenthesis with < > .

(a href="http://funkybug.blogspot.com/")
(img src="http://static.flickr.com/29/43386062_d480de8e1d_o.jpg" border="0")(/a)

Remember... no "()", but "<>"


This is Funky, and that is all.

Imagine -- Adventure in NYC on NYE

Just a preface to tell you that I'm going to post about my first week of classes, but I'm saving that for next week. I've been a bad blogger this week, but I promised you a telling of my mini-vaca to NYC, and keeping THAT promise is the least I can do. I apologize for the lack of photos in this post. I didn't take many. I spent most of my time crammed like a sardine into a crowd that I wouldn't dream of taking a camera into.

To start our New Year's Eve day, we footed it to Central Park for the requisite carriage ride
and lunch at Tavern on the Green. The real treat came afterward in the form of SNOW, Kids! Yes, this Florida Gal got to see some huge-assed snow flakes.

This did throw a wrench into my plan to take many pictures, but it really was worth it to walk around NYC with my tongue sticking out. Snow flakes still taste good.

After some shopping, we caught the subway back to 46th Street and TRIED earnestly to get back to our hotel to change for our show. Okay -- so nobody told me that every street is shut down seven hours prior to the big ball drop. It was madness I tell you. You'd think flashing a hotel key would get you across Broadway, but NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. It took some fancy footwork and some fancier talking to get through, but NYC cops are the best in the world, and though we were only two blocks from our hotel, it took two hours to get there, and that was WITH an escort from block to block.

We did make it to our show -- a little number called Tony and Tina's Wedding. This was our second time seeing it, but not much was playing on NYE, so we grabbed tickets for the VIP table and enjoyed some great interactive dinner theater. At 9pm we made it as far as 46th and Broadway before we hit the baracade. No one was getting through to Times Square. NO ONE. Again, I love NYC cops, but when they say, "Who you fuckin' kiddin?", you kind of just settle into the crowd and make the best of it.

I had pretty much decided that NYE was NOT the time to visit the Big Apple, when it happened.

We'd already been forced into a sing-along with Regis. It was after that.

About five minutes before midnight, "Imagine" piped through the speakers and into the crowd. With the first strains, I felt all my tension and stress dissipate. I closed my eyes and started singing. So did the guy next to me. So did the gal behind me. So did 1.5 million other people. I opened my eyes and the entire crowd was swaying in unison, singing,

Imagine there's no countries,
It isnt hard to do,
Nothing to kill or die for,
No religion too,
Imagine all the people
living life in peace...

People who didn't speak english five minutes ago, are singing about world peace, and I think they knew that.

Tears ran down my face and a stranger grabbed my hand. She was crying too.

And I came to the conclusion that all we reall need is love, Lennon, and liquour, and the world will be as one. It happened. I felt it.

It was the most magnificent thing I've ever experienced, and it actually sparked hope in this jaded heart of mine.

This is Funky, and that is all.