LET'S INVITE THOSE RELATIVE WE FOUND OVER FOR DINNER

Gentle Readers,

Someone I Love still has a little too much time on her hands and has continued her genealogical research.

If her current findings are correct, then she and Favorite Young Man are direct descendants of a rather well-known family, along with another family named Spencer. Thus, she and Favorite Young Man are cousins of some sort to Prince William and Prince Harry.

And they didn't even get a fuckin' invite to the wedding although they have the Spencer red hair.

Sarah Ferguson, Someone I Love and Favorite Young Man know exactly how you feel.

Infinities of love,

Lola

SLOVENIA

Gentle Readers,

In between chasing, shushing, and bathing dogs, I want to take a moment to mention that I just saw a woman from Slovenia on TV.

You might not get as excited about Slovenians as I do, but I adore Slovenians because they are my most faithful readers except for Americans.

God Bless You Slovenians! You rule!

Infinities of love,

Lola

MERLE'S DOOR

Gentle Readers,

This week seems to be the perfect time to tell you about Merle's Door: Lessons from a Freethinking Dog because with the granddogs visiting it's non-stop bark, run, and play around here. My boys think Stella the bulldog is heavenly. Pauly is more standoffish and difficult, so he hangs out more with me, and that's fine with Grandma.

By chance, writer Ted Kerasote comes across the dog he names Merle, and he sets out trying to insist that Merle obey his commands and conform to life as a typical dog. He soon learns that Merle prefers to make his own decisions. The two end up of teaching each other.

After Merle settles in with Ted, Merle quickly become known as The Mayor in their small town as he makes his daily rounds visiting his friends and checking up on everyone.

I kind of skimmed some of the stuff about how we should let our dogs live the free dog life, doing as they see fit as long as they don't chase cattle, because after Harper got out of the yard last summer and slipped away, watching him cross a busy street with traffic coming at him horrified me. I thank God for bringing Harp the Herald Angels Sing back to me.

We don't all live in a small town in Wyoming where our dogs can have doggie doors and go in and out and do as they please.

However, I enjoyed Merle and Ted's adventures together tremendously, and the book has some lovely photos. Ted seems to be a good writer AND a pretty hot guy (he was once making sweet, sweet love to a lady when Merle tried to help out and the lady asked if he really had to do everything with his dog), and Merle, quite obviously, was a beautiful, sensitive, intelligent, fun-loving dog.

I say WAS because of course Merle dies in the end. Get out the boxes of Kleenex and Puffs -- no Scott tissues, too rough on the nose for a weeper like Merle's Door.

I couldn't help loving the relationship that develops between Ted and Merle, and I think you will too.

I suggest you put Merle's Door on your summer reading list. The book could make a fun movie, but Hollywood, please don't cast Owen Wilson as Ted. He already played Marley's dad in Marley and Me, a cute movie, but I liked the book by John Grogan much better. Perhaps Tom Hanks could be Ted.

Infinities of love and dogs,

Lola

GRANDCHILDREN

I'm sorry, Gentle Readers, but my posts will be sporadic this week.

My granddogs, Stella and Pauly, are staying with me. Busy, busy, busy!

Infinities of doggie kisses,

Lola

THE HOLY ALPHABET

The Holy Alphabet... This is Beautiful


Whoever came up with this one must have had some Divine guidance!

                                             

Although things are not perfect 
Because of trial or pain 
Continue in thanksgiving 
Do not begin to blame 
Even when the times are hard 
Fierce winds are bound to blow 
God is forever able 
Hold on to what you know 
Imagine life without His love 
J oy would cease to be 
Keep thanking Him for all the things 
Love imparts to thee 
Move out of 'Camp Complaining' 
No weapon that is known 
On earth can yield the power 
Praise can do alone 
Quit looking at the future 
Redeem the time at hand 
Start every day with worship 
To 'thank' is a command 
Until we see Him coming 
Victorious in the sky 
We'll run the race with gratitude 
X alting God most high 
Y es, there'll be good times and yes some will be bad, but... 
Z ion waits in glory...where none are ever sad!

'I AM Too blessed to be stressed!' The shortest distance between a problem and a solution is the distance between your knees and the floor. The one who kneels to the Lord can stand up to anything. Love and peace be with you forever, Amen.

PS: GOD LOVES YOU...PASS THE WORD ON TO MORE FRIENDS AND ASK THEM TO CONTINUE TELLING OTHERS THAT GOD LOVES THEM TOO. JUST THINK OF HOW MANY PEOPLE THAT COULD BE REACHED OUT TO AND BLESSED WITH THESE WORDS

KAMIKAZE KAT

Kamikaze Kat sets out on mission from heavens above
Celestial white feet cat walk barn rafters
Stealth bomber but ultralight
Black fuselage lean and taught
Catapults from ten thousand thousand angels
Critical speed achieved
Bogey sighted
Flying clean
Facile three-point landing
Black rudder all bottle brush spikes
Invulnerable wind barrel rolls into dog fight
Slaps face
Hisses cat calls at enemy
Cur flees divine supersonic backwash of claws yelping maydays
Victory sanctified
Strolls into sunlight
Soft black ball sleeps at peace
A godlike survivor who knows she was willing to make supreme sacrifice

CALL ME SISTER STEVIE

Gentle Readers,

The very nice homeless gentleman who said I look exactly like Stevie Nicks and that I'm gorgeous and all that

(see  CALL ME STEVIE)

would no longer recognize me.

Previously, Stevie and I probably had two things in common: our golden tresses and mid-life weight gain.

We are down to one thing now because I got my hair cut. It (my hair) is in a plastic bag on my dining room table so I can donate it to Locks of Love. If you have at least eight inches of hair you can live without, and I'm not talkin' pubes, please consider getting it whacked like Tony Soprano getting rid of an enema enemy and donate the hair to Locks of Love. Click on the link above to learn how to donate.

But don't be concerned. I am not bald. I had plenty to give away and I have plenty left. Just not Stevie tresses anymore.

So now since I'm entering a convent,

see  CANCELLATION TRIALS & TRIBULATIONS

I prefer to be known as Sister Stevie, or perhaps Sister Sledge.

Sing with me Sister Bloggers: We are family! I've got all my sisters and me!

Infinities of love,

Lola

THE UNKNOWN WOMAN

Gentle Readers,

I have a movie to add to my scariest movies list. It's The Unknown Woman, directed by Giuseppe Tornatore and starring the marvelously amazing Ksensi Rappoport as Irina, who escapes sexual slavery in Ukraine and goes to Italy to find . . . I can't tell you.

However, I will tell you the movie is harrowing, horrifying, brilliant. The most terrifying sequences are shown in glimpses, cut very quickly, or I don't think the viewer could stand it. I know I couldn't have taken anymore.

But I will tell you that the movie ends on a relatively happy note.

I think it was about time (the movie was made in 2006 but I only learned of it recently) someone made a true to life film about the hideous sex trade. This is no pretty woman cindafuckinrella story.

Watch. Be horrified. Learn.

Infinities of love,

Lola

CANCELLATION TRIALS & TRIBULATIONS

Gentle Readers,

Last week I told you about all my new techno stuff in  TECH NO GEEK.       

But getting new stuff meant I had to cancel some old stuff. The new cell phone was no problem because of Rad and because I simply went from one AT&T phone to another.

But installing a U-Verse package meant I had to cancel my old satellite TV provider and internet service.

So I called the satellite people. We'll call them DirectFuckMe. The guy I got on the phone simply would not shut up and let me cancel the service. I didn't shout; I didn't curse. But I did end up becoming rather angry and speaking to him quite strongly, as in, My DVR hasn't worked properly for months and you people kept telling me it was my fault and you wouldn't do anything about it and then the AT&T guy told me today that your stuff had never been hooked up properly.

Mr. DirectFuckMe actually had the nerve to tell me that he isn't "you people," that he has a name and it's Shit Head, and that I never talked to him so it wasn't his fault.

Then he tried to rip me off by telling me if I didn't cancel for another month that it would save me money on what I have to pay per month ($20) to finish off my contract, which ends in September. I said, How can paying for another month at $79 cost less?

He said, Blah blah blah blah something something something.

I said, Just cancel it right now.

He finally obeyed.

Them I had to call Shamcast to cancel the internet. I've been unhappy with them because they called me a couple of months ago and said they were sending out someone to upgrade my modem free of charge and the cost of my service would actually go down.

HA! I say HA!

Almost every day the internet went out after the upgrade and I had to unplug everything and plug it back in, not easy when one is hampered by a broken back. Furthermore, although the cost of the internet service went down by about a dollar, they added some other cost, so the total cost went up.

But I was prepared when I called Shamcast because of my experience with DirectFuckMe. When Shamcast inquired why I was canceling, I answered, I am giving away all my belongings and entering a convent.

He said he didn't even know there were convents in the United States anymore. I assured him there were.

He said I was due for a refund.

No argument.

Problem solved.

I'm going to use the entering a convent excuse from now on.

In fact, afterwards I felt so freaking brilliant I'm surprised my head could fit through the door.

Infinities of love and nunneries,

Lola

P.S. AT&T also gave me a $200 rebate for getting the U-Verse package, which more than covers the cost of the $60 I still owe DirectFuckMe for canceling my contract with them.

MORE ME 'N MY GEE PEE ESS

Gentle Readers,

After posting  ME 'N MY GEE PEE ESS last week, I received an email from my beloved LegalMist, telling me she had tried to comment on that post and had been unable to do so. Apparently, blogger is still having commentary problems.

So, I'm going to post her comment here, because you really should click on the link she provides and read about the murderous Mrs. Tom Tom.

Thus, from LegalMist:

I love my GPS, "Mrs. Tom Tom," too... 

... even though she tried to kill me once: 
http://legalmist.blogspot.com/2008/10/marriage-saving-murderess.html 

Then again, it was probably all my fault for not following her directions properly in the first place.

Or maybe she's just a vengeful bitch.

I know of another case of attempted murder by a GPS. I used to work with someone who retired and took off on a celebratory car trip with her husband. They were in a rather remote area and not sure what to do. So, they obeyed the GPS and ended up off the road with their vehicle in tatters. No cell phone service. Heat during the day. Freezing at night. No one in sight. Food and drink stores depleted.

They decided they had to try to walk out to save their lives. Eventually some motorcyclists came upon them and rescued them. They were covered in insect bites and their lips were so swollen they couldn't eat the little bit of food they had left. 

Hospital. Recovery ensued.

They decided never to obey the GPS unquestioningly again and to always keep friends and family apprised of their whereabouts and when their arrival should be expected. 

I guess all I have to say now is watch out for your GPS because the sweet little lady in it might be a killer in disguise. 

My new cell phone has a navigation feature, which I have used once so far. Ms. ATT was quite pleasant.  

But I haven't yet angered her.

I'll be very careful with Ms. ATT.

Infinities of love and care,

Lola

CALL ME STEVIE

Gentle Readers,

Last Sunday when I approached the door to my place of worship, a gentleman who looked pretty scraggly and was probably homeless was sitting on the front steps. I said Hi and invited him to come into the service.

He said he would, though I don't think he did, but then he stared at me and said, You really remind me of someone. He pondered for a moment then said, I know! You look just like Stevie Nicks. You are absolutely gorgeous.

It's been a damn long time since someone complimented me like that.

God bless him.

Infinities of love,

Lola

TECH NO GEEK

Gentle Readers,

I admit it: I am not exactly a technological genius.

I can do the basics. I blog, text, email, google, jabber on my cell phone, poke people on Facebook, and have a Web site I created.

But currently I am on technological overload.

I had the same cell phone for several years. I loved it, but it was starting to fall apart. So I went to the AT&T store where nice, polite young Rad always helps me. I was due for a free upgrade on my telephone, so I got the same kind of phone Rad has.

The telephone is very nice. I have been told it will even do the laundry -- if only I can find the correct spot to tap tap.

And because of my dissatisfaction with my TV and internet providers, I decided to sign up for a U-Verse package, which was installed two days ago.

I could operate the old remote for my television in the dark, and now I'm learning how to use a new remote and I have to become accustomed to a different channel guide and different ways of setting up my close personal friend DVR.

I now have wireless internet, which I particularly wanted so I could make more use of my laptop. The computer is running well. But my laptop is so old that it can't do much on the internet. Rad says I need a new laptop. He told me to go to Wal-Mart and get an HP. I told Rad that Wal-Mart is Satan and I can't go there. Besides, I can't afford a new laptop.

I have also regressed in the sense that I now have a land line in addition to my cell. So my fax machine is hooked up and Someone I Love can send me the math problems she doesn't know how to do. I shall solve them and fax them back to her.

(The part about doing the math problems is a joke. She's getting her Ph.D. in math. I have no comprehension of what she does, but I'll never admit it to her. I have told her for years that it wouldn't be fair to the other kiddies if I helped her with her math.)

I'm very happy I got the U-Verse package. Everything -- TV, wireless internet, land line, new cell phone -- costs the same as my old cell phone, internet, and TV combined. Plus, the new stuff does so many things the old stuff couldn't do -- if only I can figure out how to use it all.

So, here I sit, head pounding, wishing I had a nice Valium or two. I realize this may sound paranoid, but I think the tech world is out to get me. Its glance at me quickly turns into a look of sheer disdain, kind of like the edge in the voice of the GPS lady as described in  ME 'N MY GEE PEE ESS. I know I'll learn how to do everything eventually. It's just that I want to do everything right now. At first, I couldn't even figure out how to answer a telephone call, and the directions do not include instructions for doing something as simple as answering a call. It turns out all I have to do is pick up the phone and say hello, is it me you're looking for? I don't have to press any buttons to answer.

And some day, some way, I will have a new laptop. But probably not this year because to put the icing on the fuckme cake, the school district has a teacher hiring freeze because of budgetary concerns. The district should hire me to fix their budgetary concerns. I bet they're already paying big bucks to consultants who are supposed to solve the problems. Hire me! Hire me! I can fix it all with three hands and a foot tied behind my back.

I'd start by making the schools more energy efficient. Makes sense, right? When I taught back in March, the AC was so cold that the students wore hooded sweatshirts and jackets to class and covered the registers with the literature text books. Why keep a building that cold? Waste, waste, waste.

Turn off the lights when you're not in a room. Turn off the computers when you don't need them.

Second, I'd cut all sports and offer private concerns the opportunity to rent the school gyms and stadiums and sponsor sports clubs. To participate, the kids would have to be enrolled in school, actually attend school, and have a GPA of at least 2.5.

I know cutting sports would make people insane, but they've already cut band and chorus classes, so cut the damn sports too, or at least insist that parents pay a fee if their kids participate in sports. I had to pay a fee every year for Favorite Young Man to play basketball, so it's not as if paying for playing is unprecedented.

Finally, I would cut transportation to magnet schools. If you want to send your kid to a magnet school, then you need to be responsible for getting your student there safely.

There. I think I just took at least 60 million off the budget.

Ah, well. I don't expect the school district will take me up on my offer to solve their budgetary concerns. I would make it all look very simple, which it is. School administrators prefer to make things seem complicated to justify their salaries, which are so much higher than what teachers earn.

Woe woe woe woe.

Infinities of love and woe,

Lola

FUNNY HA HA NOT FUNNY PECULIAR

Gentle Readers,

I love this recent post written by My Dear Mrs. Tuna about her very funny girls' weekend
with her friends and how they think she is the funniest person they've ever met.

Well, I have an eentsy-weentsy problem with this post, My Dear Mrs. Tuna. MY friends
 have been telling me for years that I am the funniest person they've ever met. But I don't 
want to get snippy with you about which one of us is funnier. I mean really, did you read 
my recent post about my gas entitled EVERYONE KNOWS IT'S WINDY? 

You simply cannot beat farting when it comes to funniness.

So, My Dear Mrs. Tuna, I think the solution to which of us is funnier 
is to let our friends get together and duke it out. We will drink and 
chuckle and chortle and make jokes about their prowess, or lack 
thereof. One of your friends will have to take a dive  bow out of the 
fighting to stand on the deck rail and snap your picture whilst 
you drink sangria, and I shall sit in a comfy chair chugging a 
mimosa, not having my photo taken because I am forced to 
avoid the paparazzi -- the result of having given birth to Elvis' 
alien love child and Michael Jackson's chimpanzee's alien love 
child and my current preparation to be a surrogate mom
for Zsa Zsa Gabor's loving husband. 


Yes, her husband will be born again and I am to be his
mommy this time.


When the battle ends, if we are not too toasted, one of us 
will be proclaimed funnier than the other. Or, perhaps we'll 
be drunk enough to agree to share the title. Sharing is not 
easy for those of us who come from large families. 
We have grown accustomed to fighting for a mere crumb of 
attention and, sometimes, a crumb of food. I used to fight the 
family dog for his steak bone.


However, I find it interesting, My Dear Mrs. Tuna, that you 
think you are funny because you were a 
middle child in a large family with only 
eight years between oldest and youngest. 
And your parents bred poodles. 


I, on the other hand, am the youngest of six with 
seventeen years between the oldest and me. 
My parents bred nothing but children, and I don't know how 
because they certainly never did "it." 


So why am I funny? 


I think it runs in our family, kind of like people 
whose kids are all unattractive
or stupid. My sisters and I seem 
to have a finely honed sense of the ridiculous, 
and we are sometimes just a wee bit sarcastic. 


Or perhaps I am funny because they all beat me 
silly (pun intended) while I was growing up. 
After all, I was Mother's favorite. 
The baby is always Mother's favorite. 
I was also dropped on my head a number of 
times, accidentally on purpose, I suspect.


Another point we have in common, 
My Dear Mrs. Tuna: No one ever seems 
to be appalled by the things I say 
(except my own children who, even 
though they are adults, have never recovered from
feeling embarrassed by me). Even the women 
who kicked me out of Bible study acted as if I were a 
riot, laughing uproariously at everything I said, 
until the day I dropped the F bomb when my back was 
broken and my world had come to an end. 
They didn't think I was funny then. 


But I think that's the only time folks haven't found me amusing. 


I also laugh at myself -- A LOT. 
One of my favorite activities is telling 
myself jokes I've never heard before.


So you keep it up Mrs. Tuna, and 
I shall do my best to bring more laughter 
to the world. God knows we need it.


Infinities of love and laughter,


Lola 

ME 'N MY GEE PEE ESS

Gentle Readers,

I feel as if my relationship with the lady who lives in my GPS is on thin ice.

And it's totally my fault.

She unfailingly tells me which way to turn the car, and when I miss a street, she very calmly says, Recalculating, and then she comes up with a new route.

But I've started to notice, shall we say, a slight edge to her voice if she has to recalculate more than once, and she quite often has to recalculate more than once because I get lost very easily even with the lady in the GPS telling me what to do. I can't read the street signs until I get pretty close to them, so it might be too late to get into the correct lane to make the necessary turn. Or maybe the lady says turn left and then turn right and I make the left turn but it would require getting over two lanes to make the right turn and there's so much traffic that I can't get over the necessary two lanes or maybe I don't understand exactly what she says even though her diction is excellent, and GPS lady stays calm, but I know, I just know, the GPS lady has darn near had all she can stand of me.

Please forgive me lady in the GPS. I try to obey you but sometimes it's difficult. I really appreciate your patience.

Infinities of GPS love,

Lola

CHICKEN POX

Gentle Readers,

When are the people who write TV shows and movies and novels, all set in contemporary times, going to figure out that a diagnosis of chicken pox doesn't make sense anymore?

THERE IS A VACCINE KIDS GET NOW SO THEY WON'T END UP WITH THOSE UGLY POCK MARKS AND WON'T HAVE TO ITCH FOR DAYS ON END.

When Someone I Love was in high school (she graduated in 2004), one of her teachers asked, How many of you have had chicken pox? Most of the students raised their hands. The teacher then said, You are among the last generation of children who will have chicken pox.

To learn more about the vaccine, please click here.

Yes, I know some people think vaccines are dangerous and would rather let their children take their chances with mumps or chicken pox or whatever, or they are too stupid or too lazy to have their kids vaccinated, but from now on, most people will never have chicken pox, which can actually be dangerous. I know it seems like no big deal. The kid is fussy and itchy and covered with little red bumps that turn into scabby things that eventually dry up and go away, but chicken pox can be accompanied by infection and/or a high fever. When I was a reporter, I had to write an article about a child whose parents took her to the ER, where she died. She had chicken pox. It was before chicken pox vaccine.

So are we all on the same page now? Do we know about chicken pox vaccine?

If you answered yes, then what's wrong with people who do the research for medical shows or movies with children in them? Figure it out, researcher/writer types. Chicken pox is pretty much dead and gone. Leave it out of your plots because you are annoying me, and that is not a good idea.

If you need a diagnosis for your show, then try Lola Pox because I say, A pox be on you if you use chicken pox in your plot.

But I still love you all no matter what.

Infinities,

Lola

EVERYONE KNOWS IT'S WINDY

Gentle Readers,

You may need to back away from your monitors once or twice while reading this post because I don't know what sort of noises and odors will come along with the words.

You see, I'm gassy. I think I've added a little extra fiber to my diet, but I'm not pooping more. In fact, I'm pooping a bit less. Instead, I'm farting. It's not stinky most of the time, but we are talking audible farts here.

I go to church and sit there with my cheeks clenched trying not to let loose with a whopper that can be heard over the angelic sounds of the choir. I walk across a parking lot, along the sidewalk, down the street, and worry who might be behind me because I know I'm going to cut the cheese good and loud. No two ways about it.

I gave the dogs their breakfast one morning and BRRRRRRRRRWWWWWTTTTTTTT let her rip so loud that the boys all jumped back from their bowls. I could outgun Hell's Angels with my butt.


What to do, what to do, Oh Lordy, what to do?


Good thing I lost my teaching job or those kids who pretend to be so tough would, in reality, be frightened and appalled by the cloud that currently follows me. 


Ahhhhhh, there goes another one. 


Run, I say, run! I don't know where it might land and sometimes they are squirty.


Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble
Hemorrhoids burn 
And my butt bubbles.


Infinities of love,


Lola the Windy Shakespeare

TRUE GRIT

Gentle Readers,

I finally saw True Grit, and I loved, loved, loved it. It's beautifully made -- great lighting, cinematography -- and the dialog is hilariously witty and delivered so dry pan that it's made even more delightful.

Cross-examining Lawyer: So, you say that when Amos Wharton raised his axe, you backed away from him. 
Rooster Cogburn: That's right. 
Cross-examining Lawyer: In what direction were you going? 
Rooster Cogburn: Backwards. I always go backwards when I back up. 

To top it all off, the acting is first rate. Jeff Bridges makes an amazing Rooster Cogburn -- I was afraid he would just be Bad Blake in the West but not so; I did not realize immediately that LeBoeuf is portrayed by Matt Damon -- it's a Matt Damon I've never seen before, and has there ever been a funnier pretentious braggart of a Texas Ranger?; and Hailee Steinfeld is perhaps the most outstanding of all as Mattie Ross whose grit is truer than any man's.

Along the way, our little group also runs into the likes of Josh Brolin as Tom Chaney, the object of the search because he killed Mattie's father and she will not be deterred from her quest to see him punished; and Barry Pepper as Lucky Ned Pepper.

I love the characters' precise way of speaking, their beautiful diction -- an interesting touch I don't believe I've ever seen in a western.

LaBoeuf: You are getting ready to show your ignorance now, Cogburn. I don't mind a little personal chaffing but I won't hear anything against the Ranger troop from a man like you. 
Rooster Cogburn: How long have you boys been mounted on sheep down there? 
LaBoeuf: My shaggy horse will be galloping when that big American stud of yours is winded and collapsed. Now make another joke about it. You are only trying to put on a show for this girl Mattie with what you must think is a keen tongue. 
Rooster Cogburn: This is like women talking. 
LaBoeuf: Yes, that is the way! Make me out foolish in this girl's eyes. 
Rooster Cogburn: I think she has got you pretty well figured. 

Mattie Ross is so tenacious that were she to grow up and become a lawyer, I would want her to defend me if I got myself into trouble, or I would want her to prosecute if someone wronged me. I particularly enjoy the sequence when she negotiates with Colonel Stonehill to be paid for her father's stolen horse, to get the money back for the mustangs her father purchased from Stonehill, and then gets one of the mustangs back to ride herself.

Mattie Ross: I guess I have a $10 horse. Tell Col. Stonehill I said 'Thank you'. 
Stableboy: No ma'am. He said he don't never want to hear your name again! 

I have only vague memories of the original True Grit. It came out in 1969 when I was but a sniveling milk-fed pumpkin of a child. I know John Wayne finally won an Academy Award for playing Rooster Cogburn. The original made so little impression on me that I didn't remember much of what it was about. Merely recall Rooster Cogburn's eye patch.

So see the old movie if you want to make a comparison, but I don't know that I'd waste my time on it. Go with today's True Grit and God bless the Coen Brothers.

Infinities of love,

Lola

Rooster Cogburn: [LaBoeuf has been talking about malum prohibitum and malum in se] It astonishes me that Mr. LaBoeuf has been shot, trampled, and nearly bitten his tongue off, and yet not only does he continue to talk but he spills the banks of English. 

CHARLOTTE A. MARTIN: THIS JOURNEY . . . I BELIEVE

Gentle Readers,

Oi! Oi! Do I have a CD for you! But first let me tell you how I met the singer/songwriter of This Journey , , , I Believe.

I went to church last Sunday and we were having a blood drive. When I walked out after the service, there sat the big bus where kind people take your blood so you can share with other people in need of the stuff. I hadn't donated blood in quite some time, and I started to walk to my car when God did this thing He does to me sometimes -- he figuratively pokes me in the shoulder and lets me know what to do.

Poke, poke, a gentle shove toward the door of the bus. Yes, Lord, I said, I know you want me to give blood.

But it turned out God actually wanted a little more than that. He had a gift for me.

I went in the door and was greeted by a very nice lady who turned out to be Charlotte Martin. Within minutes she was testing my blood, but we were laughing so hard that I didn't even notice when she stuck my finger. Then we started laughing so hard we were crying. It was one of those times when God gives me an instant connection with someone.

While my new buddy Charlotte got me all set up to donate, I mentioned that I write a blog. She mentioned that she sings and has a new CD out.

Would you review my CD? Charlotte inquired.

Yah, you betcha, I replied -- and not just because she was the one holding the needle.

So here I am with a copy of This Journey . . . I Believe, and it's not at all difficult to recommend because it's absolutely wonderful. Put Charlotte in your CD player with the alarm and let her awaken you with the bouncy "The Open Door." Then she can lullaby you to sleep at night with "Oh My God." Pop her in the CD player in the car and while you're driving she'll calm and relax you and remind you of what a great journey our Lord gives us through this thing called Life.

You can click on this link to see and hear a video of Charlotte singing "The Prayer" -- so lovely that it's otherworldly.

So, oi! oi! go to This Journey . . . I Believe to learn more about Charlotte and to order her CD or download it at This Journey...I Believe.

You won't be sorry and I suspect Charlotte will be tickled pink, green, and blue -- among other colors.

Charlotte, you rule.

Infinities of love,

Lola

BIUTIFUL

Gentle Readers,

I don't complete understand Biutiful, and no, sillies, it's not because the movie is in Spanish. What I couldn't pick up from listening I could read in the subtitles.

The movie begins as Uxbal (Javier Bardem) learns he has prostate cancer too advanced to be treated. He has a few months to live. Uxbal is a black marketeer, pero es une hombre muy mal con une corazon del oro.

He has two children he cares for quite lovingly. Uxbal briefly reunites with his ex-wife Marambra (Maricel Alvarez), but he soon discovers she is too unstable to be trusted with the children.

The life of a black marketeer is not an easy one. After 25 illegal Chinese immigrants die because of Uxbal, he descends into a miasma of the surreal in a disco that includes a number of scantily clad women performing on ropes hanging from the ceiling. One of the women has nipples on her butt as if each cheek is a breast. Now I've heard of women with an extra nip on the chest, but I've never heard of a woman with butt nips. I think the unreal nips are there to suggest how unreal Uxbal's life has become. It's his fault these people are dead, and he's dying himself.

There's also an interesting sub-plot (this movie has tons of stuff going on) about Uxbal being able to receive messages from the dead.

I'm pleased to report that Javier Bardem has lovely hair in this movie. No weird wig or do or whatever that was when he was the incredibly creepy bad buy in No Country For Old Men, an excellent film for which Bardem won the Best Supporting Actor Academy Award. Bardem has quite a beautiful chiseled face with kind of droopy sexy brown eyes and a hot bod, although he becomes more grey and gaunt as the Grim Reaper looms.

Bardem was nominated for best actor for Biutiful, which also received a best foreign language film nomination. I don't know what movie won, but it must have been awfully good to beat Biutiful.

I don't really understand the end of the movie. What happens to Marambra? Is Uxbal dead when he's watching an earlier scene of himself with his daughter? Why is Uxbal in the woods and what's going on? Do I not understand these points because I'm stupido or is it up the air because we don't know what happens when we die? Uxbal can't even be sure that the woman he asks to care for his children will do so.

But all in all, Biutiful is very well made and really quite biutiful. I think the ambiguity is there to keep us thinking and pondering what happens to the characters. Every now and then I enjoy seeing a movie I don't completely understand. It keeps films interesting and unique.

Infinities of love,

Lola

Uxbal: Look in my eyes. Look at my face. Remember me, please. Don't forget me, Ana. Don't forget me, my love, please. 

HIGH SCHOOL HIJINKS

Gentle Readers, hahahahaha, I'm laughing hahahaha because I remembered something a few friends and I did in high school.

A close friend of mine (we were sophomores) was giving a party.

My friend, we'll call her Chlamydia, prepared lots of good food and spent hours primping and cleaning the house. A lot of people, mostly juniors and seniors, arrived and stayed for about an hour. Then suddenly they decided they had something better to do, and they departed, saying they would be back later. Two less popular (but nice and fun) boys who were juniors were left behind with us.

I still don't know where all the "cool" people went, but they very foolishly left together in one car.

Are you following me here? All their other cars were parked in front of Chlamydia's house. We four were pretty pissed that they all took off and didn't invite us or say what they were doing, so we moved their cars. This was back when most people didn't lock their cars, and sure enough, we were able to simply open the car doors.

I knew how to drive, so I steered while the other three pushed the cars to different locations. They were still in the neighborhood, but they weren't where the cool people had left them. Then voila! We discovered one cool guy kept the key to his truck in the truck. I believe we moved the truck a few streets away and Chlamydia, whose party had been pretty much screwed over, kept the key.

After 90 minutes or so, the cool people returned: Where are our cars?

We don't know what you're talking about, we replied ever so innocently.

Eventually, we revealed where the cars were, but we let the cool guy whose key was "missing" suffer for three, maybe even four days.

Mwahahahahahahahahahaha            

Don't screw with Lola or Lola's friends.

Infinities of love,

Lola

LIAR LIAR

Gentle Readers,

I saw someone on the news who is an expert at seeing the signs that someone is lying. She said that putting a finger over one's mouth or talking about oneself in the third person are evidence of lies.

Lola absolutely detests it when people talk about themselves in the third person.

Then she showed the classic clip of Bill Clinton saying, I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky. She just blew me till I squealed like a pig. And now I have to git back to work so some other intern can have the learning opportunity of sucking my crooked dick and save America.

Indications he was lying: The expert pointed out that Clinton used anger and intimidation by raising his voice and pointing his finger at his questioners. Then he changed the subject by saying he had better things to do. Then last, but not least, the smirk on his dumb butt face as he stalked away.

Oooooooh, Slick Willie, I have seen your technique so many times before. Shame.

Infinities of love,

Lola

THE STATUE OF LIBERTY

Gentle Readers,

Someone I Love has had a little extra time lately, so she's been doing a little gynecological genealogical research and reporting back to me. I had thought about looking into my family's past at a well-known site that costs money, but she found a site that's free: www.familysearch.org

I've established an account there myself, but for the most part I've provided her with family names I already have and let her do the research. She seems to enjoy it, and I can just spend so much time sitting in front of the computer before my back hurts, my feet swell, all this miserable old lady crap, blah blah blah.

I'm fascinated by some things she's learned. First, she discovered that my mother's parents once lived in the same boarding house -- before they were married. It must be where they met. She found my grandfather's record of death, which occurred when my mom was 18. I said, And guess what my grandmother did after her husband died? Naturally, Someone I Love asked What, and I said, She ran a boarding house. It's deja vu all over again.

Then she really surprised me by finding the ship's manifest from my grandmother's family's arrival in the United States. I always knew they had come here from another country when my grandmother was 12, but I didn't know how they arrived, other than by ship.

It seems they left their country and somehow went to Liverpool, where they sailed to the U.S., arriving at Ellis Island. And I thought, Wow! I wonder how they felt as they arrived and saw that first view of the Statue of Liberty.

Of course, maybe they thought, Jeeeezus, it's about time. They had traveled a long way to Liverpool and then spent ten days on board the ship with several children, including a one year old, and there weren't no pampers then. How would you manage diapers during ten days on a ship? And did they all get seasick?

The ship's manifest even says how much money each person had. My great-grandfather arrived in the U.S. with $150. And a dream. At least I hope he had a dream because that's part of the classic immigrant story. Why did they come to the U.S.? I have all these questions I want to ask them, like what were the bathrooms like on the ship and how do you travel so far with a one year old without murdering somebody.

I have romantic thoughts of the famous poem associated with the statue:

Give me your tired, your hungry, your poor

Your one year old who had the shits the entire voyage

The six year old you longed to throw overboard 

The twelve year old who suddenly developed a case of smart-ass mouth as the journey began

The sixteen year old who pretended not to know you as you barfed over the side of the ship while holding the baby

The husband who never helped with the kids once but instead spent his days wandering the decks with the other husbands and chatting up the unmarried whores

And I will detain them all on Ellis Island while you make your getaway to a land where you will never have to wash a baby's butt again.

(Make sure you pick your husband's pocket and grab the $150, leaving him high and dry.)

Then Someone I Love started looking at my father's side of the family and surprised me even more by discovering that my dad's paternal grandmother's father fought in the Civil War from 1864 to 1865 when he was 40 years old. I didn't even know that branch of the family was in the U.S. at that time.

And my dad's paternal grandparents had four children who died and eight who lived to adulthood. My dad's maternal grandparents had 14 kids and all lived to adulthood.

I did get some family information from my parents before they died; for example, my mom had a distant relative who ran away with the milkman and nobody ever spoke to her again (tee hee).

If only we still had milkmen I could find my true love.

Infinities of love,

Lola

MY DUMPED FIRST WIFE SKINNY WIFE QUIRKY STATS

Gentle Readers,


Today I continue my celebration of reaching the 300th post milestone
by providing an update on my stats. I did not use whore in my title
because I have found my readers are less likely to read a post with
the word whore in the title, unlike the readers, including me, of some
other bloggers. However, my readers do like dumped first wife, 
skinny wife, and quirky. These are all terms that come up in a
lot of searches that lead folks to WOMEN: WE SHALL OVERCOME.


My most popular post remains


DUMPY MEN WITH BEAUTIFUL SKINNY WIVES, 
which originally appeared on August 15, 2010.

However, a more recent post from April 8, 2011, has  shot into the Number Two spot with a bullet and  continues to get quite a few hits, so it may end up at  Number One. It's HICCUPS AND WATERBOARDING. I'm extremely fond of  this post because it involves some young people I  love and I think it's rather clever.

I think my favorite post is 


YOKO OGAWA (HOUSEKEEPER + PROFESSOR) = ELEGANCE 
from  February 1st of this year because it's really a love
letter to someone very important to me (sorry I can't get
the link to the post to work, but you can go back to Feb. 1, 
2011, to find it).


As for readership, it went up quite a bit at Christmas
time, dipped back down for a while, and then went up
and stayed up. I'm not sure why, but I welcome everyone.


Most of my readers are in the United States, but the 
United Kingdom is no longer second. That honor now
goes to Slovenia, followed by South Korea, and then
the U.K. 


I don't know what draws Slovenia and South Korea
to me, but God bless you and keep on coming.


I thank you all, my gentle readers. 


I thank you for your amusing and interesting comments,
for all the support I receive from you, and for being 
part of my life.


Here's to 300 more posts. Cheers!


Infinities of love,


Lola