Sunday, January 27, 2008

1st Luvs

Do you remember the first person you thought you "loved"? (I'm talking romantically, not your mommy or daddy... unless you're a wacko or sicko or weirdo who should really be in therapy instead of reading this non-Oedipal posting.)

For me, it was Scotty P. I was two or three, he was five years my senior. We both hated getting our hair washed.

Love, I tells ya. Love.

He didn't like me, of course -- what seven-year-old is going to dig a toddler? But fortunately his brother Mark (who was two years older than Scotty) would hold him down so I could smooch away.

Those boys were handsome, and I'm sure they are hunky forty-somethings. I've long since abandoned my adoration of Scotty, but I still have fond feelings for my first true love. So innocent, so naive.

So... tell me about your first love.

(And make sure you name names -- that's more fun.)

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

The Perfect Character for Kids !

Unconventional methods to teach abstinence

Fab gal Aine inspired me with her comment in yesterday's post to come up with some unconventional methods to teach abstinence to teens. Her thought was to have them work at Chuck E Cheese (a.k.a. "The Devil's Den".)

A few others I managed to come up with during this quick break from work are:

- Have them spend a week with a teen mother who has a newborn at home. Make sure they have to sleep in the same room with the baby. Ha!

- Give them an allowance, then take away what they'd have to shell out for diapers, creams, lotions, formula, and other necessities. Watch their mouths drop in horror when they realize there's nothing left!

- Make them assist during a few deliveries in a local maternity ward. Provide them with a bucket in case vomiting ensues. Don't allow them to look away.

- For a month, don't allow them to do anything with friends. Keep them in the house. Make them do laundry night and day. Let them know this is what will happen if they have a child. No parties, no dances, no hanging out. Nothing.

- If you're a mommy, show them all your stretch marks (otherwise known as "war wounds".) As they run screaming from the room, yell, "Honey! Wait'll you see what happened to my breasts!" Then laugh maniacally.

What are your ideas?

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Medieval blog post

(I'm tired of 21st century living today, so the following irreverent posting is written as though I were a woman living in the middle ages. Sorry to offend. Happy to amuse.)

January 17, 1350

What a surprise. Another burial to go to tomorrow. It's the third one this week. Can't we just email our respects? They're GONE. They don't care. And I'm tired of all the gloom and doom.

Plague, plague, plague. I'm sick to death of it. Can't people talk about anything else these days? I mean, yeah, you lost most of your family who oozed and hacked until they rotted on your family's floor. But, geez, at least you don't have to make dinner for a tribe of 15 anymore! Come on! Look at the bright side!

Seriously, things have gotten really macabre around here. I can't remember the last time we all got together for some rollicking good fun like playing "stone the leper" or "poke fun of the mentally weak." Now THOSE were some good times!

Instead, we're all relegated to sitting around and counting the rats that have accumulated in our homes. Damn little pests -- but they can get kind of cute, too. Just wish they didn't carry those bugs on 'em. Oh, well. They don't do any harm.

Oooops -- gotta go. The porridge is boiling over... what a day!

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

The Tibetan Monk

In a recent post, I predicted that in 2008, a Tibetan monk would figure out the answer as to whether a tree falling in a forest makes a sound when no one's there to hear it, become disenchanted with his lifestyle as a result, become a hip-hop singer, and then return at the end of the year to the monastery.

That made my sick little mind wonder... what would the titles of his songs be?

So far, I've come up with the following ditties:

Himalayan Ho
Never Forget the Yet(i)
One Hand Clappin', Monks a-Rappin'

Obviously, I desperately need your help coming up with better fodder than this crud...!

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Vomiting, Teaching, and Writing

Vomiting. Teaching. Writing.

Those are the three subjects that have consumed my past 48 hours.

The writing thing isn't much of a surprise -- I mean, I'm a freelance writer. If I'm not writing, I probably should be. (Or I should at least be doing legitimate research or querying... which I confess sometimes goes by the wayside when I start blog surfing on my virtual boogie board.)

And teaching -- that's not a shocker, either. I'm an acting/modeling instructor on the weekends, so every Saturday, I'm offering advice, encouragement, and pointers to a class of teens and adults. It's cool, it's demanding, and it's refreshing.

The vomiting... well, that was a bit unexpected.

We all went to bed Friday night a tad later than usual, but it was no biggie. At 1:00 a.m., I was interrupted from a deep sleep by a sweet voice coming from my son's bedroom. "Mommy... can you come in here?" he called. This isn't unusual. He's not a good sleeper and I often find myself heading into his room in the middle of the night to help him get back to la-la-land.

But I digress...

I walked in and the blue nightlight illuminated his figure sitting up in bed. All seemed fine. Until I got closer to the bed.

At that point, my darling guy piped up, "I had a little pukey."

He needn't have mentioned it. The smell was overwhelming. It was a lovely mixture of bile and half-digested pepperoni pizza washed down with water and a pink candy cane for dessert.

This was truly a Mommy Moment.

After hugging my frightened sweet pea (all the while trying not to barf from the stench), I turned on the light.

"A little" pukey? I think not.

Apparently, my son had turned into a vomit volcano.

He swears he only threw up once, but I have no idea how a 40-pound body could violently dispose of that much matter in one upchuck.

The bed was a mess. He was a mess. And all I could do was smile and cheerily say, "Well, this isn't so bad! Let's get you out of those pajamas and we'll wash you off in the bathroom!"

Yep, my 26+ years of theatrical training came in handy.

So what does this mean, a day-and-a-half later? Probably nothing.

But I'm way behind on tons of stuff around the house, my work is just starting to come together again, and I'm hoping neither I nor my husband awakens in a pool of puke.

Did I learn anything from this life lesson? Yes. There's a reason they manufacture plastic sheets for kids' beds. Other than that, I'm stumped. So if you have insights, lay 'em on me.

(And while you're at it, feel free to share any fun throwing up stories!)

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Predictions Galore!

Doesn't it seem like everyone you turn there are [insert pompously loud musical introduction]:

PREDICTIONS FOR 2008! (echo, echo, echo...)

So why shouldn't we make some here?

Thus far, these are my predictions for the coming year:

1. A popular blogger will be elected president of the United States thanks to a massive write-in campaign. Unfortunately, it will be discovered that she is really a 17-year-old masquerading as a 40-something dude who writes terrible, as-yet-unpublished romantic comedies. The ironies abound and the country delights in the foible.

2. YouTube will endorse a spinoff website -- BoobTube. Its popularity will surpass that of all Internet sites to date and will cause the World Wide Web to crash for several days, resulting in depressed writers everywhere wandering around aimlessly and muttering: "Must. Leave. Comments." The only ones profiting will be YouTube and the makers of Paxil.

3. The question "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around, does it make a sound?" will be answered by a Tibetan monk. He will then lose faith and record a hip-hop album. By the end of the year, he'll return to his religion a wiser person.

Your turn...