Thursday, August 31, 2006

You've GOT to be F-ing Kidding Me!

I want you to really take a look at the following image. Click on it to enlarge it, then study it carefully.




This print is by fine art photographer Jerry Uelsmann. It is not, I repeat NOT photoshopped. Mr. Uelsmann does all his work in the dark room. All dodging and blending of images are done by hand on one single sheet of paper using multiple exposures and negatives. Now take a look at this one.


Pretty damned amazing, is it not? Mr. Uelsmann's work sells for THOUSANDS, and to date many of his works have been impossible to recreate by any other artist (using the darkroom, not photoshop.)

So THIS is MY first assignment for Photo II, which I began last week. I have to go out and shoot stuff, then after processing my negatives I must choose a few images to superimpose upon each other, using only my HANDS as dodging tools in the darkroom.

I firmly believe my beautiful professor has lost his fucking mind.

I have not even the slightest clue what to produce, let alone how to produce it. But LoveBug is whisking me off to Key West tomorrow for a long weekend. Perhaps inspiration will strike... if not, I pray lightening will because at this rate, I'm never going to make it through this class.

If I'm not deceased, I'll see you on Tuesday. Happy holidays!
This is Funky, and that is all.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

The Primaries

It's been 24 hours since I found out that John Mayer has been stemming the rose with Jessica Simpson. I've decided it's time to look at candidates to replace him on my Top 3.

Here's the short list of contenders.

Dr. McDreamy has been in the wings for awhile. In fact, he was in position to take Angelina's place, but for the fact that she's the token female on my list (soon to be replaced, perhaps, by Maggie Gyllenhaal)

Clay is an obvious choice, given that I may be bumping a singer. You think I care about the gay rumors? Go ahead Perez Hilton, call him The Gayken. Like him being gay makes me want him less. Like him being gay makes him less available than he already was.

Another singer in wings is Michael Buble. Since he's already seen my boobs, I'm not sure he's still eligible.



My husband, feeling that I was on the verge of drastically rearranging The List sent me this contender... Julian Mcmahon from NipTuck. I know we're supposed be looking at Mario's ass, but I can't stand that Saved by the Bell gigalo. Behold the power of Christian's ass. Hmmmmm.

I'll take write in nominations. Who am I missing???


This is Funky, and that is all.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

This MUST Stop

I was going to post something about Ernesto heading my way, but there's another natural disaster brewing that takes top priority.


No.


No.


Oh hell no.

John, listen --
One upon a time Antonio Banderas was the hottest thing on the market. Then he diddled that nasty ol' blonde Melanie, and he sank faster than Brooklyn informant tied to a block of concrete.

John, her body is not a wonderland, it's a wasteland heavily guarded by rabid pitbulls due to high levels of toxicity.

This must not happen. Please don't make me bump you from my top three. Please step away from the trashy blonde. Run to the nearest clinic, get tested, and fax me the results. I'll be seeing you in concert in a few short weeks, and I really don't want to break out my birdflu mask yet.


This is Funky, and that is all.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Wine - Oh!!!

Seeing as I love my wine, I know you'll appreciate this fun weekend I had.

LoveBug and I went to Orlando to check out a place called Grapes to Glass. After testing/tasting/slugging back some various wines, we picked a nice Chateau du Something and made our way to the production area. Here we are getting ready to make our own wine.

Aren't we cute in our to-die-for aprons?
So now we're getting ready to make our own wine. The first step involved mixing distilled water with some kind of chemical. Don't ask me what it was -- I was kind of tipsy at this point from sampling and sampling and sampling the various choices.

The lady said I was a really good stirrer, so I got to take the paddle and give it a whirl.



Then we got to add some juice. this time Mr. BigBiceps did the honors, while I stirred.



Basically we found out that making wine is mostly taking pre-packaged shit and stirring it.

And stirring it.
And stirring it some more.
Believe it or not, we got to add grapes to the mix. Yes, not just juice, but real grapes... all sugary and wonderful. It was actually kind of obscene, squishing them out like that.
But then we tied the cheese cloth off and floated the bitch.

LoveBug put some themometer thing (Yes dammit, that IS the technical term) that measured the percentage of alcohol the batch contained.

Since it's a baby at 1%, we have to leave it for 8 weeks until it finishes becoming a grown-up wine. So LoveBug snapped the lid on and we said bye-bye.

In about eight weeks we'll get a call to come bottle and cork it. Any suggestions on what our private reserve should be called? You get bonus points if you comment on my 40 pound weight loss ;)

This is Funky, and that is all.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Something Funky This Way Comes

I tried to sit down last night at the computer, and a slow haze came over me. It was strange to feel so weak and tired, given the fact that I slept well the night before. I decided to lay down last night "for a few moments." Apparantly I crashed and burned.

But I woke up this morning feeling as if whatever it was that had come over me must have gone with the night.

I was so wrong.

As I sit here right now, that slow, heavy haze is coming over me again.

I assume I'm getting sick with some funky bug or something.

Either that or I'm in the first stages of my yearly depression.

I'm not really in the mood for the depression thing, so I'm assuming I'm in just feeling shitty.

Be that as it may, I'll leave you with this shot of the most hysterical bathroom vending machine ever. Don't even ask how I ended up in this skank bathroom. The story isn't nearly as interesting as the footage taken.


Go ahead, talk amongst yourselves. I'll be back in a few days when the fog lifts.

This is Funky, and that is all.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Kiss the Queen, Baby

I've been trying like hell to get online all night. I wish I could blame blogger, but it's my service here at home. It's so fucking unpredictable these days, and while I should admire my service's ability to be unpredictable and crazy, it mostly just pisses me off.

And I wonder if that's how the unpredictable and crazy me appears to the rest of the world?

And just as I'm pondering that thought, my service allows me to get online. Suddenly I'm jumping at the keyboard, and I'm grateful for this moment of lucidity that allows me to function. Then I start wondering if that's also how the rest of the the world sees me.

It's okay though, I still mostly I don't give a shit. It's who I am, and they can cherish the precious moments, or sit around drinking and bitching like I've been doing for the last few hours while trying to get something unpredictable and crazy to do my bidding.

Damn, it's good to be queen.

This is Funky, and that is all.

Kiss the Queen, Baby

I've been trying like hell to get online all night. I wish I could blame blogger, but it's my service here at home. It's so fucking unpredictable these days, and while I should admire my service's ability to be unpredictable and crazy, it mostly just pisses me off.

And I wonder if that's how the unpredictable and crazy me appears to the rest of the world?

And just as I'm pondering that thought, my service allows me to get online. Suddenly I'm jumping at the keyboard, and I'm grateful for this moment of lucidity that allows me to function. Then I starte wondering if that's also how the rest of the the world sees me.

It's okay though, I still mostly I don't give a shit. It's who I am, and they can cherish the precious moments, or sit around drinking and bitching like I've been doing for the last few hours while trying to get something unpredictable and crazy to do my bidding.

Damn, it's good to be queen.

This is Funky, and that is all.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

The Road to Well-Being is a Boring Journey

I've spent so much time the last few months trying to get inside my brain and improve myself, that I've stopped doing one of my favorite things.

Being me.

And I'm all for self-improvement, but it shouldn't take over and change the core of who I am. Being a "better person" doesn't mean being a different person. "Rising above" is just a code word for ignoring the opportunity to have a little fun.

For instance:

I actually thought I was being a better person by ignoring the rude comments of an overly-promiscuous, jealous co-worker.
But it's much more fun to stoop to her level.
Like when she snidely said to me, "Gosh, we can't all marry into money like you," and I responded, "Well, you may be right, but I give you props for trying so damned hard."

And I've tried so hard to be a June Cleaver for my kids that I almost missed the opportunity to have this conversation with my daughter on the way to the Planned Parenthood to pick up some birth control pills:
"No pap smear, no exam. I'm not taking off my pants," she said, to which I replied, "Funny, if you'd only thought of that sooner, there'd be no need for this appointment at all."

See, those are things that crazy people say. So much for sanity. Bring on the crazy. It's what makes me who I am... and I honestly like the crazy me. She's so much more fun, and way more unpredictable that the boring me I've been living with for the last six months. All the voices in my head are my closest friends. And I'm tired of being a sane stick in the bland mud. Let someone else save the world now. I just want to be silly in it.


This is Funky, and that is all.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Chasing Inspiration

I really have been reflecting lately on the topic of inspiration. More to the point, I've been wondering why my writing has changed. I think maybe "more to the point" may actually be the point indeed.

As a hazard of my current occupation, words have become extremely important to me. Nothing frustrates me more that having to record or transcribe live dialogue when the speaker has no intention of stating his/her point in a clear and concise manner.

The phrases "you know" and "I mean" are an anathema to me.

The verbal utterance "uh" should be subject to electric shock upon completion.

And for the love of Christ, people should be able to finish a sentence before starting another one.

So I've made it a point to chose my words very carefully lest I become a hypocrite of sorts. I make a concerted effort to not only shun those verbal hiccups, but to plot each syllable I bring forth.

In other words, I'm thinking too damned much these days about communicating. With only so much sane space in my brain, that exercise has bled over into my free-thinking zone.

I've forgotten how to sit down at the computer and just write the stuff in my brain. I've shut down all the voices in my head that used to frustrate me.

And you know, I sort of miss my little voicey friends. They're fun to be around.

This week I've decided my intellect needs a vacation. I put it on notice. I told it to pack a bag full of pajamas, granny panties, and romance novels and board a flight to the tropics. I'm plying it full of alcohol. I expect it to come back relaxed and refreshed.

While it's gone, the voices will be pulling double shifts. I told my funny to burn the midnight oil. And everyone else in there is rearranging the space in my brain to make room for creativity.

And I've put out an BOLO (be on the look out) for inspiration. When found, inspiration will be held without bond until further notice.



This is Funky, and that is all.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Where Did I Go?

I'm kind of spent this evening. It's a long story. Not terribly interesting either. I'd tell you if I could (top secret court stuff), but you would read all that and still be bored shitless. And I'd be out of a job.

So anyhow, I was going through my archives looking for a rerun to post this evening... you know, just to keep the blog going. Now I'm sitting here thinking to myself, "Where did I go?"

I was witty, sarcastic, dark, and bitchy. Now I'm inside of myself, brooding, and boring.

And I yearn to back to being full on with the funny as opposed to full on with the bitchy. I just have to figure out who sucked the life out of my dick, and why on earth did they swallow instead of spitting?

This is Funky, and that is all.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Just Call Me Dr. Phyllis

I spent the afternoon practicing two things: patience and therapy.

I have a co-worker that is having man troubles. IMHO her trouble is that she's yet to clue into the fact that she doesn't need to have one, but I digress.

Her boyfriend du jour is wrecking havoc on her mental stability. No, he doesn't beat her. No, he doesn't cheat on her. Yes, he talks her into the dirt.

I listened to her for the better part of the morning, on and off. My patience is always tried when I see a woman getting all splotchy in the neck and face because she can't figure out how to change her man into her childhood Prince Charming. My therapy practice came in the form of truly listening to her random statements, finding the jewels, and coining them back to her.

Me: Personally I make it a point to surround myself with friends and lovers who make me a better person.
Her: He has that same philosophy. He says you should always leave people better off than when you found them. What they do with that is up to them. So that's why he points things out that he thinks I should do, not do, improve upon, etc.
Me: Perhaps the best way to leave people better off than when you found them is to encourage their strengths, not highlight their weaknesses.

I sat back, astounded by what came out of my mouth. As the day wore on those words rang in my ears. As evening closes around me I ask myself...

If I really want to get better each day, maybe I should stop highlighting my weaknesses ("I'm too fat... short-tempered... cursed with kinky hair... stuck in a dead-end job..." etc...) and encourage my strengths.

And I think one of those is listening to and encouraging others. It sure as hell isn't punctuation. So yes, I'm definitely going forward with the Psychology Major.

This is Funky, and that is all.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Tomorrow's Today

Yesterday was a rough day, as I stated...well... yesterday. I can't recall feeling so anxiety-ridden in so long, but it reminded me a lot of the way I felt before the big blow up with CadiBug. But nothing was that bad. In fact, nothing at all was bad. I just felt bad.

And I've learned that when I go into full-on bitch mode, the best thing I can do is to remove myself from the general population. I remember a counselor telling me that kids will blow up at the parent they feel the safest with. Kids know that the people who love them the most will never, ever turn away from them.

I'm here to tell you that it's not just kids who behave this way.

And I've learned that when I'm in full-on bitch mode, I take it out on the people I love the most in this world.

And I've finally learned that temporarily removing myself mentally and emotionally (if not physically) is the best gift I can give to those who love me.

But yesterday I realized that there's more to it than just coping.

You see, I have a good life. I'm abundantly blessed. I'm married to my best friend. My kids are bright and creative and healthy. I'm healthy. And at times I'm pretty certain I have a fair amount of intelligence behind these big brown eyes. So there's really no reason to go full-on with the bitchy.

And I've made some decision about that. I've made some decisions about me.

I've dawned to the realization that it doesn't matter what impression I leave on people. What really matters is the perception I have regarding me.

Full-on bitch mode is nothing more than stress over trying to be perfect.

Because I'm not, you see. So it's an unattainable goal.

But that doesn't mean I'm not valuable. That doesn't mean I don't have opportunities to be someone's angel, someone's therapist, someone's shoulder, someone's savior, someone's friend, someone's ride to school, and permission-note-signer extraordinaire.

And it's the realization that I'm so much more than just what I feel that brings me to a place of humility that has nothing to do with shame.

I was right. There's always a tomorrow. And yesterday's tomorrow taught me a very important lesson about tomorrow's today.

This is Funky, and that is all.

Monday, August 07, 2006

So You Had a Bad Day

No visits tonight, sorry. I'm feeling a little bit stressed out.

Today was funky, but not in a good way. It literally started at 12 a.m. this morning. That's what time the clock said it was when I realized that I was not falling asleep. I was forced to take a half-dosage of a sleep aide in order to get the few hours I did manage.

The alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. I figure the pill took at least 30 minutes to kick in. I took it at 12:30 a.m. You do the math. I'm too tired for addition -- or subtraction. Or whatever.

So the day was major autopilot until I got home. The kids had their first day of school today. I should have seen it coming. WHY THE FUCK DO SCHOOL ADMINISTRATORS GIVE THE PARENTS HOMEWORK? I spent over an hour filling out forms and answering questions. Some of those forms were in quadruplicate. Yes, that's now a word, thanks to my kids' school.

Then there were the additional supply lists. Not that I get mad about pitching in. Lord knows those school budgets are never allocated to the actual teachers or kids. But for fuck sake! I spent over $200.00 yesterday on supplies, and racked up another $50.00 this evening for "additional" supplies. I haven't even gotten to the "wants" list. I only bought for two kids!

Then the struggle to put my oldest to bed. Oh man -- I was really hoping some things had changed, but that child is still testing her limits. Give me strength.

So, I have had only fifteen minutes to myself all day, and this is how I spent it.

Beats the hell out of stripping naked and running through the neighborhood, screaming at the top of my lungs... from a legal stance anyhow.

I know there's always a tomorrow... but if it's anything like today...

This is Funky, and that is all.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Clarification -- Nick Cage and My Sex-less Existance

I'm supposed to be heading for bed, but I just got done driving CadiBug and her friends to their various and assorteds, so I'm not quite ready to give up the ghost. I'm actually more in the mood to chat with you fine folks. So I thought I'd clarify a few things from last week's posts.

Let's talk about my sexless existance for starters, since that's the reason for the Nick Cage dream.

Bottom line, LoveBug and I have a very healthy sex life. For that matter, we have a great relationship in total. There's no issue to pin anything on. Our lack of ugly bumping is most likely due to circumstances beyond our control. For one, we've both been on the road a lot over the last few weeks. I was out of town one weekend, and the next weekend we were visiting relatives. We have this... oh, call it a RULE about not doing the naked tango in our nephew's bed. Since returning from our trips and such, it's sort of been one thing after another. My Aunt Flo, his head cold, etc... So it's not as if I'm neglected or anything of that sort. Additionally, were I so inclined, I do own an arsenal of electronics and plenty of batteries.

So in short, my sexless existance is something that hadn't occurred to me until I woke up the other morning all hot and bothered from my sex dream with Nick.

Now we move on to Nick.

Yes, I find him appealing, but it's not like he's even on The List. The List is something LoveBug and I cooked up over a night of drinking. We each have three people that we mutually agree can be openly lusted over without repercussion. Since you only get three people, I've had to choose them carefully. Occassionally I have to bump one off. For instance, Antonio Banderas was on my list for a long time. But once he hooked up with Melanie Griffith, I had to bump him. In reality, there's no way I'd do him now. He's tainted. The list is occassionally revised. It stands as follows:

(1) John Mayer

(2) John Cusack

(3) Angelina Jolie

So Nick isn't even close to making the list. In fact the runner up, should anyone get bumped by bumping with Paris Hilton, is Dr. McDreamy.

Why Nick was the one I got messy with is beyond me. I haven't seen any of his movies lately, nor do I find him particular attractive in the trailor for the new 9/11 movie. Honestly, what's up with that Village People mustache of his?

This is Funky, and that is all.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Screwing With the Stars

I haven't had sex in so long I am now dreaming of having sex with celebrities. This morning I woke up in the middle of some hot, sweaty make-out session with Nick Cage.

So needless to say, the day went downhill from there.

And I have nothing left to say about that. Or, anything else for that matter. Honestly, the Nick Cage dream was the highlight of my day.

This is Funky, and that is all.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

The Saddle is Near

And I'm almost back in it, Kids! Posting three days IN A ROW for fuck sake! In another week maybe I can actually find time to visit my favorite friends! Boy Howdy.

So anyhow, the a/c is officially dead... sort of. Well, we can keep it at 78 degrees if LoveBug shopvacs the bitch out daily. They'll bring the new one NEXT THURSDAY to the tune of $2200.00. Then we can repair the roof. Then we can replace the carpet that got flooded in CuddleBug's bedroom. Then we can take what's left from tomorrow's bank robbery and sip sissy drinks on a beach in Mexico.

And yes, for the record, CadiBug IS still bitching about melting melting melting. Wicked witch indeed.

This is Funky, and that is all.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Ah, the Joys of Home Ownership

Last night we're sitting in the living room and CuddleBug notices the floor is wet. Really, REALLY wet. Not, "Winnie pee'd on the floor" wet. Something more. Something bad. We looked up at the ceiling and the tell-tale signs were all there. Water spots. Shit.

LoveBug drug the ladder in from the garage and removed the a/c vent. Then he boogied to Home Depot for a shop vac. Seven gallons of water were removed from the ceiling and we thought all was well.

I just got home a few minutes ago and it looks as if Lake Funky Bug is now a reality in my living room. With the a/c damned near off (as much as it can be in Florida) we have a constant drip that has knocked plaster off the ceiling.

LoveBug is beyond frustrated. He's driving back from Boca tonight so he can tackle this issue, seeing as the repair guy he contacted this morning hasn't seen fit to return our calls.

CadiBug is bitching because I won't check us in at a HoJo's. It's 79 degrees in the house right now, and she is certain in an hour we will be suffering an inferno because I've shut the a/c off for the night. Never mind that it's 10:24 p.m. Never mind all that. She is a teenager, and she is suffering from certain heat exhaustion.

I'm wearing boxers and a paper-thin tank top. It's like Survivor, except that I'm still fat like Richard Hatch.

I remember when I was the one that Ma called to program the VCR. Now I don't even know how to vaccuum water from the ceiling.

I miss having a superintendant and maintenance man. Sure, he was pervert and a con artist, but at least he fixed stuff between smelling panties from the hamper.

This is Funky, and that is all.