UFMs....(Unidentified Flying Margaritas)

There has been an alert issued from McDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida...reports are coming in of an unidentified flying object over the Northwest Tampa area. Reports claim that it appears to be a flying Margarita. That's affirmative - a flying Margarita. If you see the flying Margarita, do not attempt to make contact with it. Immediate contact could cause delusional behavior, dancing on tables, occasional vomiting, an uncontrollable urge to show one's breasts for cheap plastic beads, and a desire to kick someone's ass. More info coming soon...

Top 10 Reasons Why I Should Be An Alcoholic

Earlier today, I posted a long, ranting blog about patriotism, the presidential election, etc. But after a few hours (and a rather horrific fingerpainting incident), I decided it was just WAAAAAAAAAY too heavy. For those of you who missed it, it basically said that I'm very Patriotic and Proud to be an American, that I think this country is great, that if you don't like it here you can get the hell out, and that I'm terrified Obama will become President.

That being said, here are the top 10 reasons why I SHOULD be an alcoholic (or top 10 reasons why I really need a girl's weekend):

10. The Cat With Nine Lives. My cat - who I kinda ended up with by accident and who is totally antisocial and pretty much thinks I'm annoying for even intruding into his world - was "diagnosed" with some sort of mystery intestinal cancer. This was, oh - about 3 years ago. After thousands of dollars of tests (no joke), they determined that without a doubt he "might have some sort of cancer." In order to keep him from pooping, peeing, and vomiting in inappropriate locations, we have to diligently medicate him with steroids and a kitty anti-depressant. They told us he might live 6 months. That was three years ago. He's going to live forever.

9. I'm having trouble fitting into my genes. I diet, and I gain weight. I don't diet, and I gain weight. It's a losing battle. I figure that the reason I can't fit into my jeans is because of my genes. I'm fighting roughly a half dozen generations of less-than-petite genes. I'm not sure I can win. Hell, I'm not sure I can even break even.

8. Two steps forward and one step back. I go to the gym. I run, really hard. Then I look down at the speed, and see I'm travelling at roughly the speed of a 90 year old with her walker. It really seemed like I was running fast...

7. Canine Disobedience. The dog I got to replace my irreplaceable dog is a little, well rowdy. He didn't make it through an obedience class because he wasn't quite "socialized" enough. I used to train animals for a living, but I can't get this dog to do a damned thing.

6. "Board"-um. I volunteered for a position on the PTA Board today. I'm a little concerned, because when I was walking to the bus stop today, one PTA member pointed at me and yelled "There she is! Beth's going to do it!" All the other PTA moms cheered. When I asked what the deal was, I was told that so many people were leaving the Board that they are desperate. So my first thought was "What in the hell have I gotten myself into?" and my second thought was "How bad is it that they practically through me a party at the bus stop just for volunteering?"

5. Task Master. Have you guys ever read that goofy email, the one about how a woman goes to check the mail, and ends up doing 50 different things that prevent her from going to check the mail? That's me. I have multiple home projects in mid-stream. I have multiple scrapbook projects in mid-stream. I have multiple vacation plans in mid-stream. I never get anything done, because every time I start something, I get distracted by something else. I sit down to check my email, but find some old pictures on the desk. I take the old pictures to the closet (where my scrapbook stuff is), and realize I have dirty clothes piled to the ceiling. So I take the laundry to the laundry room, only to discover that the cat has kicked litter all over the place. So I go downstairs to get the broom and dustpan but see a package on the front step. So I open the package, and it's birthday gifts for a few people whose birthday's aren't for a few weeks. So I put the gifts into the closet and see the curtain rods I've been meaning to hang. So I get out the curtain rods and head out into the garage to get the drill. While there, I see the 3 plants that I had bought earlier that day but forgot to put int he ground. So I go out front to plant the 3 plants and realize I haven' watered the new grass plugs. So I water the new grass plugs, and then go get the mail. The mail had coupons, so I go through those and cut out the good ones. I go to put them in the coupon folder and realize the pantry is a MESS. I could literally go on like this FOREVER. This is really the way I am. And they want me on the PTA Board?

4. "It's da chooze". (That's from The Birdcage, in case you missed it.) I firmly believe that during the course of the day and night, little kid's shoes walk themselves down the stairs and take up residence in various places on the floor. No matter how many times they are taken upstairs, or who takes them upstairs, they always end up on the living room floor. Where I proceed to trip over them in the middle of the night when I'm looking for chocolate.

3. Ipod Ipod We all Scream For Ipod! I have an Ipod. I love it. But does it really do me any good if I can't seem to find time to add new songs to it? I mean really, how many times can I listen to "Low" by Flo Rida? I'll sit down to download, and I realize...(see #5)

2. House Hunters. I am starting to think I a obsessed with this show. Few things in life give me as much of a thrill as seeing a new House Hunters episode. House Hunters International? Even better. In the tropics? SCORE! I have about a 99.6% accuracy rate at choosing which house the buyers will choose. This week it's "first time buyers" week, and I caught myself actually counselling the couple on which house to buy. ("Get the one with the bigger lot! You can replace the cabinets, for Christ's sake!") ("The house isn't too small, honey - maybe you're too big...") Seriously.

1. Color inside the lines! I'm really not cut out for having kids. I mean, you're supposed to encourage the kids to have artistic expression. Create! Be free! Imagine! I have a problem with this. I'm anal-retentive. I'm a control freak. And I like to color INSIDE the lines. Today, I spent 45 minutes cleaning up red footprints and green drips from the carpet. (Chase painted his foot and then decided to take his dripping green paintbrush to the bathroom...) I'm not sure what bothered me more: cleaning up the mess, or the color thing. You see, Chase likes to mix the colors. He thinks the yucky brown caused by mixing purple and red and orange and yellow is great! He also does this with Play Doh. I'll put out 6 cans of beautiful, brand new colors, and within minutes it's all in one big mush. This drives me INSANE. I try really hard to "let go", but it's just not in me. You can't get those play doh colors apart, you know. They're like that for good. And the paint? How are you supposed to paint anything if all the colors are fucked up? (excuse the language)

So after a day of cleaning up cat vomit,gaining 2 pounds,running really slowly on the treadmill,trying to get the dog to do ANYTHING, finding out more about the PTA Board,picking up shoes for the 13th time, writing down songs on little scraps of paper so I can one day put them on my Ipod, watching at least 2 episodes of House Hunters, and having a painting session with my kids....

I'm ready for a DRINK!

B-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t

Yesterday, a really great friend of mine was commenting about this blog. She said something along the lines of "You're a really great writer - your blog is so funny!" Now, her opinion was more than likely tainted by the 5 or so Mango Margaritas we had been consuming, but still. Another friend told me that once too - that I should write a column or something.

That kinda cracks me up. When someone says "your blogs are so funny", I can't help but think "You have GOT to be kidding me!" This blog is like my random stream of consciousness - and sometime unconsciousness - that I just throw out there. Most times it is the result of not getting to talk to enough grown-ups. Many times it makes no sense at all. The run-on sentence is my friend! So I'm amazed that some people actually find this crap entertaining!

And then if someone says "You are such a good writer!", I can almost hear Dr. Terry Prewitt groan all the way from UWF. Dr Prewitt was my advisor at UWF. Dr. Prewitt is brilliant. This is for many reasons, but he is legendary amongst Anthroplogosts for somehow getting funding to study things like the "Culture of Strip Clubs" and the "Social and Linguistic Aspects of Pub Culture". (No - I am dead serious about that shit. The guy is b-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t.) Anyway, in my two years or so under Dr. Prewitt's wing, I received possibly hundreds of papers back from him, all so covered with red ink that you would have thought he performed some sort of animal sacrifice on them. "Too passive." "Passive." "Passive, passive, passive!" he would write. Again. And again. (It should be noted that my other advisor and mentor, the esteemed Dr. Micklovich, also gave me his fair share of red ink, usually writing more of the same. Dr. Mick is also b-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t, mainly for being the COOLEST history instructor in the world, and for having the cohones to head to the Middle East with a bunch of rowdy college kids. While there, he managed to drink more than we did, and get more action too. The man is a Legend, capital "L".)

So passive, passive, passive is my writing style. (Or, put another way, "I write passively." or "I write with a passive style.")I still go back and change my damned past-tenses to present tense, all because of those two. I seriously doubt that either of them would find me to be a "great writer", unless they thought my friend Tre was ghost writing for me. Tre was my partner in crime in Prewitt's 8:00 am Linguistics class. If I remember correctly, he carried my slack ass through that class by wowing Dr. P with a biblical translation done completely in Vulcan. True story.

So - if you think I'm funny and a great writer, then hold that thought. One day I'm going to self publish all this stuff, and I'm going to expect YOU to pre-order, and to buy one for all of your friends. (Or, put another way: "one day I will self publish, and I will expect you to pre-order...")

Now if only I could come up with a really GREAT idea for a book...something like, oh, I dunno, "Tequila! A Natural and Cultural History." (Sent to me yesterday by yet another Legend, my girl Della, aka Buwana.) See the crap that Anthropologists get to come up with? B-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t.