Observations by Key Monroe~~Home of Right Opinions, Cynical Viewpoints, and TMI in Hefty Doses
|E-mail: keymonroe [at] alltel [dot] net

December 31, 2004

Booze, Sex, Taquitos and Indoor Fireworks

Up until a couple of years ago, we always hosted the New Year's Eve bash for thirty of our closest friends, and no post necessary on that. The title says it all. We have since wised up. Plus, all of our rowdy friends seem to be settlin down.

So, tonight we will traverse the county, so as to hang with my immediate family, where we will have 50+ acres to act like hellions without taking in any witnesses.

There will be a weenie/marshmellow roast, beer, boxed wine, boiled peanuts, target practice offa the front friggin porch, and an assortment of fireworks.

Yes, the country girl in me will be alive and well tonight. Them's my roots.

Be safe blogworld, and have a Happy New Year!

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posted by Key on 11:45 AM | Comments (11)

Do They Think That Shit Is Cute?

What up with these internet ads featuring a huge, hairy cyber-roach crawling it's ugly ass all over my screen, while I'm minding my own business trying to look up a non-bug related word on dictionary.com?

That is nasty! Stop it retarded marketing people! Stop it right now! I don't want to win your free roach-infested Ipod.

Ulllgghhh... My skin is still crawling.

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posted by Key on 11:24 AM | Comments (3)

December 30, 2004

Presents Are So Expensive

Next year, I'm buying cat toys. This decision was born yesterday, at the family gathering.

Miss Priss latched on to my cousin's daughter, who is 10. These girls are a dangerous combo. Both Pisces, they are drama queens, articulate, descriptive, and worrisome. Okay, they are freaks.

The presents were opened. They oohed and aahed appropriately, posed for pics, then split.

They emerged a few minutes later and found me in the Kitchen. "Come to the bathroom with us," they say.

"Nah," I say with a smirk, "I think you can handle that on your own."

Frustrated, the elder of the two grew specific in her demands, "We want you to see our SWINGING PENDULUM OF DEATH!" (This delivered with creepy voice and mischievous eyes.)

While I laughed and appreciated the creative phrase, I was unfortunately held captive by an aunt and a fru fru dog.

Time lapsed. I had forgotten about the conversation. I had forgotten to take a bathroom break. I finally did so.

I walked into the grandparent-style bathroom with the crocheted doll over a roll of toilet paper the primary decor...or it had been anyway.

I stepped back with a gasp as I witnessed my first rodent suicide. There, on the shower bar and hung from a string, was the most realistic looking furry brown fake mouse I believe I've ever seen.

"Swinging pendulum of death" indeed.

(So tempted to return the Bratz Ski Lodge for a slew of cat toys...)

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posted by Key on 06:53 PM | Comments (4)

December 28, 2004

Shrek In The House

I married an ogre.

So the kids got Shrek 2 for Christmas, and they were watching it this morning as I chatted on the phone with my aunt who is in from Baltimore.

A visit to my grandfather's lake house has been mandated, as is usual and customary this time of year when all the aunts and uncles roll in.

Two uncles are pastors, the cousins are scholastically gifted, but logically impaired, they all talk as though they are addressing a two year old, and the collective fashion statement being presented is a bit retro to be kind. (And yes, these would be the folks who force hours worth of home videos upon their family members.)

So, naturally, I told her that I'd be there tomorrow, hung up, groaned, and cautiously delivered the much dreaded news to the husband, who is not above killing the messenger.

This is the good part.

We've reached the part of the Shrek 2 movie where Fiona is being summoned to her parents castle, and Shrek is less than enthused.

And damned if Shrek and my own personal ogre didn't go off simultaneously! I'm not going. Why should I? That's YOUR family! I don't WANT to go! Forget it!


I looked at the screen, then looked at him, and I couldn't help but laugh despite his ogre-ish expression.

"I married Shrek," I informed him, "You're such an ogre!"

"And it's about time you realize that," he shot back with a reluctant grin.

Fine. He wants it. He gots it. He's no longer Mr. Key. His new online handle is Shrek.

I ruled out both Ogre and Grumpy Bastard in favor of that one. I really am too kind, am I not?

(Yeah, so uh, wish me luck with the clashing families tomorrow...)

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posted by Key on 11:50 PM | Comments (3)

Someone's Watching Over Me...

So I didn't mind so much the first dozen or so times that I heard Hilary Duff belt out these lyrics, but after an hour or so...

I just have one question. WHO the HELL invented the friggin REPEAT button on my daughter's otherwise mucho stylin lavender CD player?


I'll be needing a name and address so that I can order a proper hit. Thanks.

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posted by Key on 02:19 PM | Comments (5)

December 27, 2004

Her Primal Purginess Strikes Back!

It all started on December 6, 2003, when Anna put up a seemingly harmless post and link.

Little did she know that when I said "I think I'm gonna have to try it," I meant it:


So Toxie, the tampon angel went to live with her Mama on January 19, 2004.

This year, the mother of my child has not forgotten me. Behold! I give you, the TWINS!


Say hi to Maxie and Paxie! They are new to this world, as they arrived on my doorstep on the eve of Christmas Eve.

The following message from Anna accompanied the little jewels: (in all caps of course, because apparently this is the way the freakish geniuses among us express themselves.)


Oh, ya gotta love her. And she also sent me something really yummy, meaning she's gotta love me too.

The master creator within me is already pondering next year's feminine hygiene ornament. It's still up in the air, but I'm thinking maybe Rudolph, the Red-nosed Douche-bag. What do ya say Anna? Would he be a welcome addition to the family?

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posted by Key on 05:56 PM | Comments (8)
» Gut Rumbles links with: oh, bejus!
» Moogies World links with: Procrastination is an art form
» Moogies World links with: The Good Napkins

December 25, 2004

Just stopping by...

...to wish Key a merry Christmas.

Key is one of those rare people who instead of just talking about it actually walks the walk when it comes to making the world a better place. Being a foster-mom is tough, on both the home and the heart, yet she does it, and it speaks volumes for the compassionate person she is.

What she does deserves far more admiration than it receives. Tell her about it here in the comments and give her one of the best Christmas presents you can give to anyone: recognition that the world is a better place because of them. I'll give it you a start:

   Key, I know the world is a better place because of you and what you do. Thank you.

Now, the rest is up to you, Key's readers, and I know you'll do the right thing.

-Jack signing off-

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posted by Jack on 01:05 AM | Comments (6)

December 24, 2004

The Stockings Were All Hung...

As was me. But I promised myself if I was going to stalk it would be polite.

Sorry, Key.

I am poaching bandwidth while I figure out my "destiny". I have a fulfilled life, a beautiful American dream. I miss my friends at times, though, and I miss my mother during the joyous season. This will be the fifth without her.

I hope all of the faithful readers of Key Issues have a wonderful Christmas, and I look forward to future stalkings here, should the Mistress allow it.

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posted by Velociman on 10:17 PM | Comments (3)

Christmas Eve Has Found Me

I am part Santa after all. So spirited am I, that I won't even miss the good night's sleep I won't get, for I shall be spoiling younguns rotten.

But NOT until the sun is up. Jeez, gotta draw a line somewhere. I'm considering duct taping their doors shut until 7!

Is that wrong?

Regarding the Christmas cards, I would like to thank each of you who actually responded to the address call.

You guys should eventually receive autographed tidings. Quite late of course, as they were mailed Wednesday. Those who did not respond have had a seven year curse placed upon their persons. If this applies to you, this means that you will not be meeting or pleasuring anyone on your laminated cards during this time period. Sorry, shoulda participated.

I would further excoriate, if not for these pesky warm fuzzies...

Merry Christmas, Blogworld!

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posted by Key on 08:05 PM | Comments (10)

December 23, 2004


I admit it. I'm a bum efficient. I'm always looking for the short cut.

But I've never had much use for Kitchen gadgets. Fancy processor thingys with multiple attachments. Bah. I can manage.

So, I made homemade toffee for Miss Priss's teachers last week when school let out. Let it be known that I painstakingly hand chopped and chopped and chopped three cups worth of pecans. Made the toffee, agonized over pulling it at the right temp, made the right call, added chopped pecans, covered with chocolate, and garnished with more pecans.

Perfect. Awesome. Incredible. I kicked ass. Even my picky ass husband ran me down the road for giving it all away.

No prob, I assure, I'll make more for the little guy's teachers. That was to be today's project.

This morning's attempt failed thanks to boiling water within the candy thermometer. Hardened black sludge I produced. Heh. Who's been bad this year? I got your Christmas present right here...

This afternoon, I decided being down to the wire, I needed a short cut. So, I looked around my Kitchen for some appliance that would chop pecans for me.


Well, I thought, my blender has a chop button on it. What the hell. In goes the pecans.

And out comes three cups of pecan powder. ...Oops.

What the hell? Let's try this little thing. Timing is perfect this time on the toffee. I add the pecan powder, and whattya know? Groovy chemical reaction. I no longer have toffee. Thanks to the two cups of pecan "flour," I now have toffee COOKIES. Fluffy, crumbly, sugary sweet pecan shortbread.

It now sits in the fridge awaiting trial by me. It is yet to be determined whether this stuff is passable for Christmas treats.

But it sure as hell ain't what it coulda been.

I share this as a public service announcement, as I have found yet another short-cut which does not pay off.

Blenders are for margaritas. Somebody make me one.

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posted by Key on 02:51 PM | Comments (5)

December 22, 2004


Apparently, half of the hits I earn on a daily basis are thanks to Image Googlers hitting the 'ol blogspot pad.

I have a large catfish pic (lifted off of the Kimmer Show) to thank for this phenomenon:


Perhaps I am presumed to have an answer as to the origin of this scaly beast.

Very well. Full disclosure.

I don't know how he could have gotten so sloppy as to have taken in witnesses, but I have a dear ol' friend who has Daryl Hannah type qualities when he hits water.

He goes out for a swim, makes his secret transformation, and is unfortunately occasionally spotted, or even reeled in.

Once he is pulled to shore, however, his nekkid tattooed ass gets up and walks away, leaving the scolded, barbed and bewildered fisherman with only their pics and their urban legends.

So, next time you see a six foot Catfish skinny-dipping in a local lake, let him be, lest you incur his wrath.

(Now, you can take that as the nekkid truth, or you can opt for the more boring explanation. Your call.)

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posted by Key on 03:01 PM | Comments (5)

Somebody's Gotta Say It

Might as well be me.

Fine line between birth and abortion, huh? At 8.6 ounces, really could have gone either way.

I'm not going to start a debate on legalities, because I'm black and white on my opinion of this.

I [reluctantly] think a mother should have the right to request a child be removed from her person at any point. (After all, she could be a psycho on the verge of taking a knife to her gut.) But doctors should be required to do everything within their power to save the child, as murder is ideally a punishable offense in this country. Child lives, she has no rights. Ever. Child dies, she's a shit.

Am I judging? No, I'm just saying. I've done shitty things. Legal, but shitty. I have been a SHIT. And guess what, there's always someone around to tell me I've been a shit!

Why the fuck shouldn't they hear it? It can't be shamed, because it's a glorified political issue? Bullshit. Go look at the picture of this living and breathing, beautiful child and imagine it in pieces.

Abortion is a disgusting, bloody, crying shame.

Update: Okay maybe Velociman has a point when he says I'm conflicted here. Or perhaps my rant mode just lacks fluidity. Perhaps I am too conflicted to debate first trimester abortion. While I believe it's abused and we have become desensitized to it, I do not believe it should be legislated by government. I tend to resist government in general, and particularly the smokescreens which are social issues.

No, when I was ranting, I was thinking about THAT child, that 8.6 ounce fully developed child, and the fact that children that size are still aborted every day, as they have not reached the gestational size to be protected from partial birth murder.

So my rant-hidden point is that a pregnancy could be ended early without a life always being taken, that is if the doctors were required to at least attempt a live birth. If an 8.6 ounce baby can live, many late term abortions could be adoptions, even in the second trimester.

Who pays? Well, ideally the insurance provider of the adoptive parent. But as much as I hate taxpayer funded anything, I for one, would be willing to chip in for that neonatal bill.

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posted by Key on 01:16 PM | Comments (15)
» Velociworld links with: The Third Rail

December 21, 2004

Must Be The Hair

Eric started something. I'm loving the semblance with the elf and David Spade, the latter being my pick.

Confession: Shamefully, I've always been attracted to the horny little prick. Furthermore, would a man that is a cross of David Spade and Bruce Willis not be extraordinarily irresistible?

I'm setting up a cloning lab.

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posted by Key on 10:09 PM | Comments (1)

That's So Thoughtful!

So I'm cooking dinner when Mr. Key decides something is amiss.

HIM: What's burning?

ME: Nothing. I just started cooking. This flat surface stove cooks too hot even on low.

HIM: No, that's not it. It's those old pots and pans. How old is that one anyway?

ME: Let's see, it was a wedding gift...so that'd make it 11+ years.

HIM: Well, I know what YOU'RE getting for Christmas!

Heh. You just try it buddy.

Fellas, if you want to purchase new items for the household, such as pots and pans, vacuum cleaners, appliances, etc., AND you want to do it around Christmas time, that is fine.

But if you would also like to remain intact, I humbly suggest you install the appliances, wash the pots and pans and put them away, and store the vacuum in the friggin closet.

The tasks associated with these things are not hobbies. They are not fun, and we do not enjoy them. (The exception might be if someone is really into cooking, and the gifts are Pampered Chef trinkets. But the exception is not good for ranting, so let us forget them for the moment.)

For most of us, these things are not "gifts." They are curses, reminders that we have a neverending supply of chores to attend to once we finish what's left of our Christmas morning! (The fact that "we" should encompass the entire family, not solely the wife is another rant.)

So... DO NOT for an instant consider wrapping that shit up and putting it under the tree as a gift!


Just don't.

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posted by Key on 08:04 PM | Comments (12)

I Wasn't Kidding People

If you are a JAWJA blogger, or if you have attended a JAWJA meet, I want your friggin snail mail address.

Yes, I realize that it is four days til Christmas, and that there is no way I could possibly get cards out on time.

I don't care.

Send it anyway. If nothing else, I can get a jump on next year.

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posted by Key on 02:41 PM | Comments (1)

December 20, 2004

Foul Mouth

I just visited one of my boy John's observations, and left the following comment:

I'll never get it. $2 toothbrush, $2 toothpaste... or rancid, decaying gums and teeth.

Why would anyone CHOOSE the latter?

Now, I ask you, WHYFORTHELUVAGAWD would anyone allow their teeth to rot out of their heads? (While poverty may explain poor dental care, it will never explain away poor gum maintenance, as brushing and flossing is a rather inexpensive habit.)

I was talking to a friend out on the square after our little Mayberry-style Christmas parade, when a decent looking middle aged man in jeans and a cowboy hat walked up and said hello to our apparent mutual friend.

...and then he smiled.

Oooh, what a travesty. They were black I tell you! Well, cream on the ends, black at the gum line to be specific. I imagined the breath and found myself taking a step back.

And I know that I am not the only one to have noticed this phenomenon, but I must have answers. Why opt out of brushing?

Why? Please somebody tell me.

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posted by Key on 05:31 PM | Comments (8)

December 19, 2004

Hey, That Feels Okay...

Everything is relative after all, no?

So although yesterday afternoon was picturesque, I'm afraid last night sucked. It sucked on so many levels, but was exacerbated by my puny physical state.

Head, ears, and throat KILLING me. I knew it was my hideously pitted tonsils acting up again, but as it was already after midnight, I didn't bother to look at the ugly fuckers, I just headed for the medicine cabinet, rummaged a minute, and emerged with a fistful of pills.

Meds taken, I was downed by 1 or so, and quite unconscious. I did not rouse, wake, or dream until 5:30 when I HAD to pee. I knew this even though I didn't know my name at the moment.

So I stumbled out of bed, then I stumbled into a wall, then I stumbled onto the opposite wall, then I fell into the bathroom and in the general direction of the toilet room (closet). Then I steadied my toilet because it was spinning out of control. And unlike a certain sit piss master or one who would opt for my plight, I have no other option than to sit, so the toilet had to be stilled.

Finally the porcelain bitch came into motionless focus long enough for me finish what I needed to do, and this time being leery and precautionary of the diminishing hallway, I managed to make it back to bed without breaking anything important.

Only then did I realize that I was quite drunk. Hey, not bad! Pain was manageable, sleep was there for the taking.

The meds wore off about eight this am, so I wandered back into the bathroom to take a look at the culprits. Nice. The tonsils are large, pitted, and covered in white puss pockets. (No, I do not blame my dear friend Kel, who just so happened to have the world's nastiest tonsils when I tucked her ass in last week! We just so happen to have a few things in common, including pitiful immune systems as well as germ-carrying kids.)

Anyway, rather than pay the $70 extra fee to see the Sunday doc, I figured I'd just self-medicate again and wait til tomorrow. I'm just trying to remember the formula. I think it is as follows:

Some Tylenol
Aquatab C, which I'm pretty sure was issued to me at some point for congestion
Tussin DM, 2 tablespoons
Tavist NightTime Allergy
Half of something blue a la Cat (Thank you, kind sir!)

Yeah, yeah. No substitute for serious medical attention. I'm going tomorrow. Meanwhile, goodnight to all and to all a good high!

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posted by Key on 11:12 PM | Comments (5)

December 18, 2004

Making It All Worthwhile

Oh, have I bitched. LOVE Christmas, hate the prep work.

I am convinced that my in-laws by far exceed the typical stereotype.

How could I have missed the Christmas play that my mother-in-law was in at her church? How? Oh nevermind! Just look at these five rolls of film and OO and AAH appropriately. Whoa, don't look away, I'm not finished with you. So what if you're trying to prepare a meal for the whole family for a 1:00 get-together that you didn't even friggin volunteer for? Look. at. me!

Then the sister-in-laws showed up with my four nieces and nephew. And I love these women despite their appearances... One is a size five, the other a size three. And they are cute. Oh, so cute. Almost as cute as Acidman (whom we all know is popular only because he is cute, and not because he has any talent whatsoever.)

Next, the father-in-law - who is divorced from the mother-in-law - walked in with shopping bags and wrapping paper which he pressed into my arms. "I didn't have time, I worked a double, I...my boss, I didn't wrap these," he panted out finally.

So size 5 and I headed to the back bedroom and completed the task of wrapping gifts after lunch, all the while being serenaded with hallway rants of "PRESENTS! PRESENTS!"

And now we get to the "making it all worthwhile" part. The biggest present - not the nicest or most expensive mind you, but the biggest present - was for my sweet little foster son, courtesy my crazy as a loon father-in-law, bless his soul.

We were getting ready to divide the presents into piles when the little guy spotted the big one. "That one is yours..." I whispered to him. His eyes became huge as he eyed the gift as tall as he, "Reeeallly?" he asked. "Really," I confirmed. Then I seated him beside Miss Priss on the sofa so that the piling of gifts could begin.

Excited and greedy hands reached for gift after gift to add to their stack. They knew this process well, as they have been spoiled by loving and attentive parents. Meanwhile little guy refused to take interest in anything other than the BIG gift propped up next to the sofa.

As his other gifts were backing up the process a bit, I finally intervened. I began delivering them onto the sofa beside him and eventually one landed in his lap. THAT got his attention. He looked up at me with crushed blue eyes, "Nooo, not that one," he said, "I thought I was going to get the big one!"

"You do, sweetheart." He looked confused, and a heart-broken me immediately understood. "You get both honey," I told him. "In fact, you get this entire stack!"

"I do?" Immediately the light was back into his eyes. "You mean I get more than one?"

"Yes honey," he looked skeptical, so I ignored the knot in my throat and continued to confirm, "These are all for you."

Two or three seconds of judging my face in all earnest, and then, finally, understanding. "Cooool!"

I have never seen such excitement on a child's face as I did when he tore into that stack of gifts. I wish I could post the pics.

Suddenly the irritation - that I had expertly concealed by the way - was dissipating into the moment. I needed perspective. I got it.

My in-laws drive me insane, but they are good people who have embraced my foster son, and he was in heaven today.


(As an afterthought...I'm not even sure he realizes that today wasn't it. Wait 'til I tell him that he gets to do this again next week!)

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posted by Key on 10:20 PM | Comments (7)
» Precocious Designs... Premature intentions... links with: Happy Holidays!

December 16, 2004

Let's Mellow, Shall We?

I grew up in the country with acreage. (Aunt next door with acreage, Grandmother across the street with acreage... Plenty of country acreage among the bunch.)

I never thought much of the helicopters that passed through occasionally, dipping low at times and hovering, that is until that fateful day when my Grandmother was visited by the authorities.

They followed her into her pastures and assisted her in "pulling weeds."

No, she wasn't intentionally growing Marijuana, but it was there in small quantities, and an incredibly unbelievable amount of effort went into that discovery. I remember thinking, "It's a plant. It grew on its own, naturally. How can that be wrong?"

I was a child, and I had not yet been trained to believe it wrong, so I was actually quite floored that there was such a thing as an illegal plant.

Tonight, I share with you an argument for legalization which landed in my inbox courtesy the essayist Werbinox. He has contributed content to the local paper on numerous occasions, and he is both thorough and well-researched. So I humbly request that you read every point in the extended entry. Here are his words:

Dear editor,

The following is an argument outlining some of the resons to legalize Marijuana, not just for medicinal purposes (which, from personal experience, I will be willing to fight for alone) but for general reasons as well. This is a subject which is gathering great momentum, and this should fuel some "speculation" at the very least.



The subject of medicinal marijuana use is blowing in the wind again, both figuratively and literally, so let us examine the issue in all seriousness.

The therapeutic benefits of Marijuana for cancer patients who are suffering the devestating side effects of chemotherapy is so well documented that several states in our union have, in a limited fashion, legalized it's medical use, or are in the process of trying to do so. Opponents of legalized Medicinal Marijuana claim that legalizing it in any fashion will only "kick open the door", so to speak, for it's total legalization, which will lead inevitably to general cultural acceptance of Marijuana use for a plethora of reasons, not the least of which is recreational. With all due respect to these opponents and their arguments, they are absolutely right! That is why we must advocate the only sane and rational position that there is - the complete and total legalization of Marijuana!

Here are some concrete reasons to support the legalization of Marijuana:

Read More "Let's Mellow, Shall We?" »

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posted by Key on 10:28 PM | Comments (5)
» The Brier Patch links with: Blowing In The Wind

December 15, 2004

Conversation With Sister-In-Law

ME: Hi, guess you're calling to discusss the Christmas gathering. [dread]

SIL: Yeah, I've already talked with [so and so and so and so...]

ME: ...and I hear you're thinking this Saturday. [pleeeease say no]

SIL: That's it! This weekend works best since Christmas is the following Saturday. Have you finished your shopping?

ME: [Yeeahhh, can we talk about something else?] Haven't started!

SIL: [Perky] I'm almost finished!

ME: [May you wake up the fleas of a thousand monkeys.] Of course you are! So what are the plans.?

SIL: Saturday, 3:00.

ME: Okay, where?

SIL: Your house.

ME: [shit, shit, shit, shit, shit....] My house?! [damafrigincrap, she did host Thanksgiving.] Okay, no problem. Hey, thanks for letting me know! [smile!]


And let it be known that I love my perfect little non-aging size 5 sister-in-law.

But crap.

Yeah, yeah, Christmas spirit. It's coming. Give me a minute. (You guys really shouldn't expect your cards 'til New Year's anyway.)

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posted by Key on 10:01 PM | Comments (1)

Hey Big Spenders!

Before I move on from the topic of the weekend gathering, I should really give a shout out to a couple of BIG SPENDERS who were fool generous enough to pick up the party tabs for the entire group.

Thank you fellas.

(So uh... What are you guys doin' for New Year's Eve?)

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posted by Key on 09:38 PM | Comments (2)

December 14, 2004

As an Addendum

My husband kindly requests the physical addresses of the following: Acidman, Catfish, Eric, Velociman, Sam, and Adam.

What? He enjoyed meeting you, that's all. Said something about wanting to send you something special...

(You can just email it to me, thanks.)

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posted by Key on 05:30 PM | Comments (7)

December 13, 2004

Twas Two Nights Before Last...

...and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a louse.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of cell phones danced in their heads.

And I in my mischief, after fretting about, had just made arrangements for a long night out.

Once out on the town there arose such a clatter,
That I followed the sound to see what was the matter.

And WHAT to my wondering eyes should appear but a table of bloggers and a buttload of beer! ...with a much frazzled barmaid serving scotch neat, I knew in an instant this must be a meet!

More vapid than eagles, the bloggers they came, and I whistled and shouted, and called them by name...

"Hi Sammy! Hi Acid and Cat and Woman of the Blight! Yo Mutant! Yo Cupid! 'Sup Man that is White!"

Partied to the top of their lungs they did, until the law someone called, and did them all in.

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
The revelers did realize their time draweth nigh.

So up to their rooms the bloggers they flew,
With a head full of joys and a hangover too.

(The blogger who lives here had nothing to say, so she skipped a day blogging, then spat something gay....)

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posted by Key on 05:52 PM | Comments (6)
» The Brier Patch links with: Long Night Out
» Gut Rumbles links with: she must still be drunk
» Straight White Guy links with: Outed again....
» Velociworld links with: In Holiday Spirit
» A Single Southern Guy In America links with: You Might Be A Jawja Blogger

December 10, 2004

Runnin from the Cops, a Tale From My Youth

It all started when I was 15. I had two best girlfriends, and a terrible trio we were, until one of them moved to Virginia Beach. (She was a military brat.)

We, the remaining duo, pooled the funds, and by the time the following summer rolled around, we had enough for airfare. TWO WEEKS away from home! (...her poor mom.)

We didn't waste any time, the first Friday there, we headed for a humungo keg party complete with a garage band. (No parents in sight.)

We were there maybe thirty minutes before the cops showed up. The band members headed for the stairs. They looked like men with missions, so we followed them. After climbing two flights of stairs, we found ourselves secluded in a small, finished room in the attic. It was very quiet in contrast to the chaos reverberating throughout the rest of the house.

Ten minutes later, our nerves were beginning to calm, but no, we should have known better. We weren't THAT lucky. Two cops barged in and began searching the room.

We were shocked. We didn't know WHAT was going on. We had been up there the whole time; we didn't even KNOW there was alcohol downstairs.

So he looked at us as though we were full of shit--and we were---and then he told us to hit the road.

...and they were in a band...and they were cute. So we snuck out to meet them a couple of times.

Sooo...Is it commom knowledge that people are really weird about teenagers hanging out in houses under construction in Virginia?

I had never had a problem in Georgia...

This house was just down the street from my friend's house. We rationalized that since we were already sneaking out, it might be best if we didn't also leave the area. Huh. WRONG!

So the second we entered the house, the three guys each grabbed their respective "match," pulling us three different directions, and thereby killing the "safety in numbers" barrier.

Luckily, I had the sense to keep my clothes on. (For at least another year in fact, but that's another story.) I heard my friends in the bonus room and figured that's where I needed to be. So, I dragged my date up the stairs to join the others. That's when we noticed blue lights flickering in the windows.

Chivalry was dead that night. And stupid. Two of them ran into the neighbor's yard, (likely the very neighbors that had ratted us out.) I followed my idiot date into the woods, where he promptly LOST my ass.

Did I mention that I was bare-footed? Yep, you can take the girl outta Georgia, but you can't take Georgia outta the girl.

The briars were a bitch. I was on a brush-infested upward slope, making my way to the tracks that ending up being my saving grace.

The officer below encircled me within the spotlight of his flashlight and ordered me to come out of there. I stared at him. I thought about it. Then I thought, nah, I think I'll take my chances with the briars.

I continued towards the tracks, and followed them two streets over. I waited fifteen minutes before I snuck my ass into my friend's fenced back yard.

No police vehicles in sight, I would have been encouraged had the lights not been on, and my friend's angry mom not been standing in the center of the Living Room interrogating the other two.

Great, I thought, those dumbasses got themselves caught. Were they stupid enough to tell the cop where they lived? We had no I.D. on us. They could have pointed to an empty house, explained that their parents were out of town, and begged for mercy, but nooo...

I went in. "YOU!" she shrieked. "I would have expected this kind of behavior out of the other two, but YOU..." she shook her head, "I expected more out of you."

Figure that. She expected more out of me than she did out of her own daughter. That's nice. Wonder what she would have thought, had she known that I had been making out with her son for several hours on the nights that I didn't have a date? (...So I was a bit of a player. Who wasn't at that age?)

Upstairs, within the sanctity of our shared bedroom, I learned that my friends HAD initially gotten away, but that the GUYS, the testicularly-challenged, oatmeal for brains GUYS, got their asses caught, and rather than act natural, (dumb), they led the police officers directly to my friend's house.



I realize that the entire situation was less than ideal, on my part as well, but, come on, was that not WRONG?

There you have it. One of the tales of my youth. I'm at a scary age. I'm old enough to expect more out of my child, yet young enough to remember exactly what it was like to be, well, misdirected.

Disclaimer: This has been a recycled post. (Sue me.)

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posted by Key on 05:08 PM | Comments (4)
» Meanderings links with: Word/Blog Association
» baldilocks links with: Linkage

December 09, 2004

The Birds and The Bees

So I was enjoying a balmy late summer afternoon, as I sat on a rusted front porch swing with my third cousin twice removed, whom I had just met.

He was six. I was five. The adults were inside this ancient home (located somewhere within the bounds of Arkansas), that I think belonged to a distant aunt, whom I had also just met.

So we sat there, we two, and pondered what little activity the small side street had to offer.

And I was shy, but he wasn't.

"Do you know how babies are made?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered, only partially interested, "in their mom's tummy."

"...but do you know HOW they got in there?"

I may have thought for a moment before shrugging my shoulders. And that was all the prompting he needed. He then proceeded to tell me exactly what private thingy went where to get the task accomplished, and he was quite satisfied with himself once he had earned an "eeeew, are you sure?" out of me.

"Oh, I'm sure," he drawled confidently.

Silence. Then...

"So ya wanna try it?" (...starting young with the chase, he was.)

"No!" (And, yes, I was quick on the draw with that one.)

Four years later my mother sat me down at the dining room table and gave me the official scoop. It was much grosser that time, because I then had to accept the fact that she did it...which was horrifying, yet had somehow managed to escape my still budding and fragile mind the previous four years, intentional avoidance perhaps.

So begs the question... Miss Priss is eight, and I didn't assign her that name cuz I think it's cute. The girl is a priss. She will be mortified, which is why I have stalled thus far. So I ask, is there a magic age to have "the talk"?

Or perhaps, what I really want to know, gentle readers, is how much longer can I get away with putting this off?

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posted by Key on 03:32 PM | Comments (9)

December 08, 2004

So It's Like This

Last night I had a situation.

I left my new Dish renewal card keys at the office (along with my DSL connection) and my horse country dial-up was particularly slow at the house and Miss Priss was neck-up in covers with a 101 degree fever and yelling "I'm NOT sick!"

What kind of a kid doesn't want to be sick/miss school, you ask? I will tell you; that would be one Miss Priss who did not want to miss the deadline of the canathon, when her daddy's company was planning on contributing 160 cans. After all, this could mean pizza party.

So, I continued to make dinner, while the entertainmently challenged kids attempted to find a way to live without television. I'm assuming this would have been easier, had one of them not been ill.

"MOM!!!!!" the ill one bellowed.

I stopped stirring spaghetti sauce and went to peek in on her. "MOOOOOOOOOM!!..."


"I'm not sick."

"Okay, honey. We'll take your temp again in the morning."

So, I went about my business in the Kitchen, all the while being serenaded from the back of the house, "I'M. NOT. SICK!!"


"Yes, baby..."

"...I'm not sick."

This went on for an hour.

Finally, at some point in the night, not a creature was stirring except my fried nerves. So I hit the wet bar, and my wondering eyes lit upon a bottle of tequila.

I then pulled out my handy dandy shot glass with the magic words etched on the side, "Shots make you SEE double and FEEL single." Then I sat under the object of my sap-covered frustration, my lighted tree, and poured me one.

Or two or three.

And then and only then, did I figure out all of the answers to life's quandaries. Unfortunately, I have since forgotten my findings.

Miss Priss awoke feverless, Dish service is restored, and although the house is littered with a dozen partially unpacked Christmas boxes, the tree is finally perfect.

It houses everything from $30 collector's ornaments to glittered popsicle sticks formed into a star and foam angels featuring my daughter's face. And it is beautiful.

And so it emerges... My Christmas spirit.

Now, maybe, just maybe, I can handle shopping.

Disclaimer: Okay, so it wasn't tequila. I used the shot class to measure out hair color developer. But I thought about the tequila, and I may have braved it, had I been able to get past the ominous looking segmented worm hovering near the base of the bottle.

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posted by Key on 05:44 PM | Comments (5)

December 07, 2004

Blogger Smilies

Okay, anyone who has been to dictionary. com recently has seen the new smilies. Am I the only one who is reminded of bloggers when I see these things?


Let's do this left to right, top to bottom. First up, looking like he's getting ready to clean the wax out of a distraught smilie's ear, is Velociman. Next is Mr. Happy-go-lucky, my buddy Sammy baby. Receiving the Velocitongue as mentioned earlier, Acidman, who is still hungover from his week in paradise. Center stage with the shit-eating grin, my girl Kelley. Looking really disappointed with me because, although I adore him, I am a pain in his moderate ass, Jack. First up on the last row is a shocked Christina, after I told her what really goes on at the blogmeets. Love in the eyes would also be Acidman....last week. Looking incredibly distrustful is the man who will tell no one, even those he's met in person, his real name. That would be you, Dax Montana. Last, but so not least is sweet Eric, after a hard night of partying...

Damn. Out of smilies. The rest of you are granted a temporary stay of execution.

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posted by Key on 04:40 PM | Comments (13)

December 06, 2004

To My Girlfriend

Haaaaaaappy Birthday to YOU! Happy Birthday to you! You knoooow I love you, now write something dammit!

Hey, I never said I was a poet. None-the-less, it is my girl's birthday, and I'm sure she is still checking her comments (even if she appears to be AWOL), so go give her a shout.

Update: Ha! Made her talk! Now, if I could get my readers to talk...

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posted by Key on 12:21 PM | Comments (4)
» suburban blight links with: It Lives!

Rant Hunt Finale!

So I learned a very important lesson from Mr. Helpful, and that is be careful what you ask for...

Within the comments of that post, I managed to spur Mr. Helpful into action, as he has since provided a rant to go with the title. Without further adieu, I give you...

Jesus God In Heaven, What The Fuck Is Wrong With The Left?
by Mr. Helpful

There is much talk about how traditional media outlets (newspapers, magazines and the Big Three Television Networks) are suffering from declining readership/viewership as former readers/viewers flock to "non-traditional" news sources such as the Internet, blogs and Fox News.

As a general rule, this talk is bolstered by "studies" which purport to demonstrate that this mass exodus is a result of people "only hearing what they want to hear" therefore not seeking out "alternate" points of view. I read a column by some hag columnist in which she harshly berated a reader who wrote in to tell her he wouldn't read her anymore because he now went to Fox News for his information. For the columnist, this was the perfect example of someone with a "closed mind" who wasn't willing to gather "other points of view". In the columnist's opinion, this is a very bad thing because "we all have an obligation to consider all points of view".

To which I respond...

Read More "Rant Hunt Finale!" »

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posted by Key on 12:11 PM | Comments (3)

December 05, 2004

Word of the Day


This is a special place where spouses are partnered up and forced to work together as they repeatedly and eternally stand, bolt and straighten a sappy and prickly tree into a small metal stand. Once they bicker themselves into reluctant acceptance of the finished product, it will fall, and the task will begin again. This process will continue forever.

Perhaps I should consider living right.

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posted by Key on 05:14 PM | Comments (6)

December 03, 2004

I So Should Not Post This

This is a secret communication formula.

Once learned, you may communicate with your friends by simply using a number.

For example:

"Hey, Larry, how are you doing today?"

"Ah Joe, not so good. I'd say an 84 easy."

"That sucks Lar. After last night, I'm sittin pretty on an eighteen."

"Good for you Joe! Now, get the fuck outta here. Jerk."

Here's the formula: ((1 + A + B)/(1 + C)) X 5

A = # of times this week you've had sex with someone even though you really weren't into it.

B = # of times you would have had sex this week had the right person been ready, willing, able, and in your bed. (Although this is the fantasy variable, try to keep it real. This isn't how often you think about it; this is how many times you would have been both willing and able within a seven day period.)

C = # of times this week you've actually had mindnumbing sex with the person of your dreams.

Now, do the math.

For those of you who are rusty, allow me to assist you. Add A + B + 1, then divide that sum by the sum of 1 + C. Then multiply by 5.

Your product is a percentage reflecting your level of sexual frustration. Under 10%, either you're living a fairy tale or you have no libido. 10-30%, oversexed. 30-60%, average. 60-100%, sucks to be you.

(Exceeding 100% is possible under extreme circumstances, although more likely such a phenomenon results from lying embellishing on part B.)

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posted by Key on 09:27 PM | Comments (13)
» The LLama Butchers links with: The Llamas present the really new math
» Meanderings links with: New Math
» Velociworld links with: It Apparently Sucks to be Me
» Gut Rumbles links with: i don't do math

December 02, 2004

He's Not a Leader

He's a religion.

Go vote for the Velocigod. He has some catching up to do, as this swuft deity just realized his ass was nominated.

So vote early and vote often, and spread the word, lest he release his wrath upon your internet connection.

(Link Love + Vote = Immunity)

Update: After you vote for Velocidaddy, you must scroll down to the bottom and vote for our bastard offspring as "best of the rest." Queenie has landed a nomination with Inblognito after only having been out there a matter of weeks. Yeah, she kicks ass...

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posted by Key on 08:04 PM | Comments (7)

Government Sponsored Health Coverage

That ought to be the title of Stephen King's next literary masterpiece, don't you think?

I'm linking my lovely liberal blogson on this topic, as we are debating it on his site, and have even had some spill over into the comment section of my last post.

My rant is within his comments. Please join the debate, either here or there. I realize that we outnumber him, but he is incredible sturdy as well as intelligent (for a liberal), so he will survive.

Besides, if we can get Jack involved, he might even the score a bit. No doubt the child inherited his argumentative disposition from his moderate blogfaddah anyhow.

(Oh, and one more thing. YES! I am 30!! Do you want me to put that hideous number on my sidebar? Oh, but NO! I prefer "recently 29," but yes, I do pay - sweat, blood, and tears - the health premiums for two 30+ year olds.)

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posted by Key on 04:20 PM | Comments (6)

December 01, 2004

Sorting the Snail Mail

Some of you freaks have amazingly neat inboxes. You read your mail and immediately sort it. There is no way you could begin to understand my plight.

For the rest of you, imagine the contents of your inbox sealed up in envelopes and piled up on your kitchen table.

Yeah. Twas ugly.

But today, I sorted. And sorted. And most of it was grandiose offers of better living [junk], as I do tend to at least pull the bills out on a daily basis.

So I was ripping, tearing, and pitching when I came across a folded piece of literature that read PUBLIC NOTIFICATION.

And I should have tossed it then. Allow me to share:


We are required to monitor your drinking water for specific contaminants on a regular basis. Results for regular monitoring are an indicator of whether or not our drinking water meets health standards. During compliance period's 4/1/03 to 6/30/03, we did not complete all monitoring or testing for total haloatic acids (HAA5) and total trihalomethanes (TTHMs) and therefore cannot be sure of the quality of your drinking water during that time.


Thanks for telling me....and only EIGHTEEN months later!

Gee. Would have hated to go on thinking that I HADN'T ingested chemical waste water and possible carcinogens during that three month period!

What the hell? Glowing could be fun. Perhaps that wasn't a ghost I saw shortly after I moved in...could have just been a lost little girl who had recently bathed in radioactive water.

So, I'm writing back:

Dear Gov'tards Water Basin Authority,

In the future, please let me know if ever there is a need to IMMEDIATELY stop drinking my water, should you feel compelled to discontinue monitoring its chemical to excrement ratio. I will gladly switch to bottled water until such time as you see fit to continue doing your job.

However, should you realize AFTER THE FACT that I have been drinking live, active, and chemically mutated cultures of God knows what, feel free to take my name off of your mailing list. I give you permission. Really. DON'T FRIGGIN TELL ME!

(From now on, any medical condition with which I am afflicted shall be attributed to the long-term ingestion of mutoid chemical organisms.)

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posted by Key on 03:11 PM | Comments (12)