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

March 31, 2005

Clean So Far

Haven't written about Schiavo, and I'm still not gonna.

However, I will write about my brother-in-law's brother, and how it is impacting my decision to draft a living will.

This young man was in a devastating car accident in October. No living will. His brain literally spun in his head.

The extent of the brain damage could not yet be assessed. He was comatose and fully dependent upon a feeding tube and respirator. The coma stretched from several days to several weeks...

Now. How is the living will to read? Is the plug pulled at this point? Is full recovery an option? (Doubtful, but a gray area.)

Consciousness was regained after a couple of months.

Presently...He seems to recognize people at times, tries to blow kisses, makes sounds, but does not meet the minimum requirements for therapy. He no longer needs the respirator, but is still dependent upon the feeding tube.

Sounds familiar, yes, but the doctors are not classifying this as a "vegetative state." Too soon perhaps.

This story has no end. He still lies in wait of a permanent diagnosis. His parents make the calls, as he had not yet wed his girlfriend. And not unlike the Schindlers, they will not be giving up on him. Ever.

What if he's still like this in a year? Is that any way to live? What kind of time frame do you put in the living will? How long do you give yourself in hopes of recovery?

As if not tragic enough, this story has a twist. While he lay in a coma, his girlfriend discovered she was pregnant. His first (and perhaps only) child is due in May.

Even had he known his own fate, I don't know how he could have drafted a living will.

Even now, if he could jump out of his damaged body long enough to make the call, how could he? End the misery or hope for a miracle?

This is beyond sad. This is a fate worse than death. There is no closure, as the family is in a state of constant mourning. Sure they visit, and they encourage until their spirit is drained. But the loss is ongoing.

Without the knowledge of this case, my living will would have been simple: If I'm unable to communicate in any form, I'm shitting my pants, and there's little to no hope for a full recovery, pull the plug.

But I look at this case, and I realize that had that been his living will, the respirator likely would have been pulled two weeks into that coma.

Would that have been better, or would it have been a complete waste? I don't know...

I don't know where to begin with this thing.

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posted by Key on 05:55 PM | Comments (9)
» The Brier Patch links with: Complicated
» Gut Rumbles links with: A living will
» sexy japanese shemales links with: sexy japanese shemales
» free tranny tgp links with: free tranny tgp

March 30, 2005

Plant Killer

That would be me. Outdoor, I can handle. Indoor, not so much.

But I have this shelf in the window sill above my kitchen sink that is clearly a plant shelf. So, I attempt to keep three plants alive, each one becoming its own miracle for every day that it survives in my care.

The first is a variegated, leafy, viny thing that I'm too lazy to google. But it is the baby of a friend and excoworker's plant, who frequents this blog, but refuses to comment. (I'm sure it's killing him not to leave the name of the plant in the comments.) Anyway, this little miracle has survived about three years so far.

Next is my aloe. Love my aloe. It is the spawn of my mother's chubby aloe plant, and it is thriving to the point that it needs to be separated and repotted.

Last but not least is the baby of the group, my little cactus. It is one year and three months old. Miss Priss and I picked it out together. Unkillable I was hoping...it is a tiny thing with a prickly, red, rounded head and green stalk.

Why am I blogging about my boring plants, you ask? Because the baby is sick! Now. I ask you, green thumbers, how does an indoor plant get sick? There's no other little snot-nosed plants hanging around to contaminate it, and I water it as occasionally as I ever have.

So what up with these ugly black spots all over its pretty red head?

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posted by Key on 07:54 PM | Comments (8)
» Velociworld links with: The Taste of Aloe
» Moogies World links with: Aloe plant question

Sleep Patterns Screwed

Consequently, I'm having the weirdest dreams evah!

Come on, it's not like I've ever fantasized about gettin jiggy wid it in a giant ball pit... Not that it wasn't fun, but the partner in play was most unlikely.



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posted by Key on 05:02 PM | Comments (16)

March 28, 2005


Of course there is the maternal sigh of relief that says I survived another holiday!, but there is also a bit of a hangover effect as well.

And I love holidays, particularly the ones that mean something, but I only wish that - during these times - I could stop the clock on a beautiful day, so as to contribute appropriate attention to the matter.

None-the-less, we painted eggs, dolled up for church, and invaded my mother's house for a meal with all the fixins...then I slept before dinner, as did my foster child.

...woke this morning, prepared Miss Priss for school, and ended up tucking the other child back in after a bout of hurling, sickness confirmed with a 102 degree fever...then we both slept again.

I don't know why it took me until my stomach rolled over and declared itself dead to realize that I too am sick.


And...AND after a weekend of neglecting blogworld entirely, following at least a week of making a piss poor effort, I was actually going to write something of substance today. Really. Well, I was going to make the effort anyway! Hey, tomorrow is another day...

Meanwhile, I hope everyone had a good Easter.

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posted by Key on 04:20 PM | Comments (10)

March 25, 2005

Okay News Junkies

Beat my score. This week's weekly news quiz.

Amazingly, I didn't know as much as I thought I did. (Although, I did know most of it.)

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posted by Key on 05:34 PM | Comments (6)
» Gut Rumbles links with: trivia-head

March 24, 2005


"Mom! American Idol comes on in fifteen minutes, and he [foster brother] is still in the tub! I've got to use your shower, or I won't be finished before it starts!"

How could I say no to that? And if she didn't take an eight minute shower (shortest evah!), and then bring her modest ass out to the living room in a towel so that she wouldn't miss a sec. Girlfriend is addicted. Just like her sistah-in-blog.

I mentioned this addiction of my daughter's to Queenie as we caught up on our relatin' today, and she didn't let me down. She had a message for my Priss: "Oh! Oh! Ask her who she thinks is gonna get kicked off!"

I obliged. Miss Priss had the answer. "Oh! Oh! Mikahla!"

I relayed to Queenie, and I was rewarded with evil excited laughter.

I think my girls bonded today. I floweth over with maternal pride.

(As a footnote, if you read the last post, and you find yourself wondering why I would subject my daughter to water contaminated with a mysterious sudsy substance... no worries. This is one day that I am grateful for my county res and county water!)

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posted by Key on 09:11 PM | Comments (2)

Morning in the Monroe Household

Tell husband I need five more minutes, he nags "NO! Get your ass up!"

Groan, pull cat off head, stumble my scary-lookin self down the hall to assist children with wardrobe, make lunch, etc., and have them on their way in 30 minutes.

Typical morning.

Thirty minutes later...they are back. Not so typical.

School is closed. Restaurants are closed. Half the town is shut down due to water contamination:

Clabo said that costic soda is put into the water system after it is filtered, along with fluoride. One of the barrels that was supposed to contain costic soda apparently contained another substance.

"Another substance." That's great. Wonder what it might be. Wonder how it was labeled. Wonder who fucked up!

Jeez. "...best we can tell," says City Manager Clabo, "it is a very benign sudsy type material..."

Thanks, I'll just be waiting on the final word from the chemist on the whole "benign" issue.

Meanwhile, I worked all day with the chitlins. (Don't pity them. They had TV, DVDs, and internet access.) After work, I dropped my child for ball practice with all the nutrients of a Lunchable, since we didn't have time to go home, and all the restaurants are closed.

The media vans were set up in the parking lot of her school, and I think they found everyone's disinterest in their presence a bit unusual. No one went near them. We laid back folk around here. No one seemed to want to publicly gripe about the situation, not even me. (I will do so passively...here.)

To the kids, a "snow" day without the snow. To me, a slight loss in productivity, and an excuse to squirm out of the topics that I promised to deliver tonight.

(Not that you peeps were holding your breath on that one.)

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posted by Key on 06:59 PM | Comments (5)

March 23, 2005


I seem to be juggling accounts of late, however I have all but abandoned the hotmail account, only checking it about once a week.

The other two I check regularly, alltel from work and gmail from home. I like the gmail "tab" feature for conversations, but as the alltel account empties into outlook, it is best for multiple forwards or attachments.

Boring post, I know, but had to clarify.

I will tackle abortion, religion, sex and drugs tomorrow.

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posted by Key on 04:51 PM | Comments (4)

March 22, 2005

I Did Not Know This

I always wondered what that thing in the toilet was called. Figures.

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posted by Key on 04:46 PM | Comments (8)
» Gut Rumbles links with: sick

March 21, 2005


I'm feelin' it. I'm back. I have survived the overnighter with 9 nine-year-olds, and I did so while battling a nasty upper respiratory infection. It won of course, and had me dragging ass to my fave Indian clinic mid-Saturday.

These nine-year-olds scare me. They already act all "preteeny" with their preppy clothes, rancid gossip and passionate hatred of anything Barbie. And as I thought about it, a rather obvious realization hit me.

My gawd, she's closer to 13 than I am from 18, the turning point being when she was five. Thus the vertigo. This sucks. I am going to be the mother of a teenager!

She's a good girl. I know everywhere she goes, everything she does, everyone she's with. This will change if she is truly a chip off the old block.

I was still a good girl, but my conservative upbringing boxed me into some ridiculous social guidelines. Therefore, my mother knew what I wanted her to know, and for that matter, what she wanted to hear.

One day, my mother - my too busy to sit down because I'm blessed with the Martha Stewart gene mother - sat down and watched an episode of Oprah. Oprah said that the reason we don't know what our children are doing is because we have closed ourselves off to them so that they cannot confide in us.

So my mother approached me, aged 17 me, and instructed me to tell her just one thing that she didn't know, something I'd done that I didn't think she could handle. There would be no negative repercussion. She just wanted me to share.


I really wasn't that bad. But I did like a good party, and although my (now remarried) mother is cool, the deacon's wife version who raised me was not. So when I was partying, she thought I was at the movies or bowling. What to tell her? Definitely not the stories with cops or boyfriends, but yet something shocking enough to take full advantage of the "no negative repercussion" promise.

"Okay Mom," I began. "Remember a few weeks ago when I went out to an early dinner and then a late movie with the girls?"


"Well, I was with the girls, but we took off for Lake Hartwell [45 mile trek, one-way]. Brandon's parents have a house there, but they were out of town. So we met him and his friends there for a night out on the boat." Her eyes bulged a bit, but she was still breathing, so I continued, deciding though to leave out any references to alcohol. "So, we took the boat out, anchored, and hung out for a while. The problem was getting back. Brandon couldn't get the motor to turn over, so we were out there a while." Meaning that out of desperation, we ended up taking turns peeing off of the end of the boat, but I left that out as well. "As it turns out, the boat was out of gas, so the guys ended up having to swim us back to shore, pulling the boat behind them. ...And that's why I barely made curfew that night...Mom? You okay?"

She was gray. I thought she was going to pass out. "Don't tell me any more!" And with that, she left the room.

I have since enjoyed telling her more stories of my surreptitious youth, but as it turns out, I was really only breaking her in for the whirlwind that is my brother. But then, he never even bothered to keep up appearances, the rogue.

So there I sat, on an outing with a bunch of Miss Priss pals, listening attentively as they schooled me on who likes who. (And as a side-note, they no longer sit in trees. Now you will find them sittin in a gutter, eatin peanut butter, kissin each other...)

I was very attentive, and now I wonder how long I will be privy to such information. Will we find the magic compromise, and will she have more sense in her head than I did?

I'm not the worrying type. But I have worried over that child since the day she was born, and I don't see it letting up.

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posted by Key on 10:09 PM | Comments (5)

March 17, 2005

St. Paddy's Day Baby

My St. Paddy's Day Baby is nine today.

I collected my strength and willed my sick ass out of bed today so that I could buy cupcakes and balloons to be delivered to the classroom of one Miss Priss, as is done at her school. (I'd still like to know who's mommy I have to thank for the whole mylars-must-be-delivered-on-the-birthday precedent...)

Of course, I may spoil her a bit on purpose. I have 24 hours to get my butt well, as I have the pleasure of dropping mucho deniro on a dozen nine year olds tomorrow night, before entertaining them at my abode for a sleepover.

Clean. Get very little sleep. Wake to new mess. I love these things!

(Perhaps, twelve years from now, if she'll still have me, I'll take Miss Priss to Savannah to ring in the 21st.)

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posted by Key on 05:30 PM | Comments (9)

I Have Guilt

So warped...I have derived much too much pleasure, and killed way too much time Shizzolating your blogs. I have Zonker to thank for my new toy.

Suddenly, my blog roll has sprung to life!

Allow me to share:

Velocipimp does golf: The Players Championship will never has da cachet of The Masters, or British Open, of course n' shit. History n' shit. Tradition n' shit. Amen Corner n' shit. Bobby Jones." St." Andrews n' shit. Royal Troon, know what I'm sayin'? Etcetera, etcetera n' shit.

Aciddogg still wants a cookie: I seen a gravy post at this site today, 'n I really wanted comment on that shiznit n' shit. But I got da dreaded "yo' ass gots register 'n log in leave a comment" notice...

Queen G schools a reader on the art of detecting sarcasm: ..da force of da criticism overwhelms me." ..I admit that shiznit, know what I'm sayin'? ..I just hate blind muthas." ..always has." They're always out there showing off they, um, blind stuff, like those, um, dogs n' shit.

Random Bruthah studies the French language: French, at least at da level I know that shiznit now, is not quite as flexible, causing me speculate that da French use mo' colorful, image evoking expressions compensate fo' da smaller reservoir of bomb diggity.

Sam my man goes on a squirrel hunt: This is one sweet pellet gat, wit fiber optic sights, 'n an adjustable trigger n' shit. I slid a hollow point in da chamber, drew a bead, 'n popped tha dude's ass from 'bout 45 yards, know what I'm sayin'? Dis da first time I capped anything, 'cept a flowerpot, wit a hollow point pellet, 'n I'm impressed n' shit.

I only wish I had the time to shizzle all of you...

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posted by Key on 04:59 PM | Comments (8)
» Velociworld links with: Lest Ye Doubt
» Thunder And Roses links with: Why can't we all just get along?

March 16, 2005

Hi Seven Hos

Cold, Nasty, Windy, Rainy, Sniffly, Scratchy, and Groggy.

Every one of them came to visit me today. How kind.

Now, if only I had a working chimney flume, some dry firewood, and something to spike my coffee...

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posted by Key on 07:04 PM | Comments (2) | Key Bitchin'

It Is Finished.

The Noir novel is complete! Sadie had plenty of loose ends to tie up, and she did so masterfully. For full appreciation, I suggest a continuous read:

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six

Great team Christina!

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posted by Key on 02:26 PM | Comments (2)

March 15, 2005

Away From My Desk

I was online Saturday just long enough to submit the last post. Then I had to do laundry, pack, and explain to the family why I had to be out of town for 36 hours. How to explain...

Us freaky bloggers. We're like a bunch misfit superheros. We have these strange powers that no one else needs or even gives a shit about, yet we value our dysfunction, flaunt our mutations, and strut like bunch of damn peacocks all the while.

A mosaic of personalities blend like pure water washing over raw sodium. We drink, flirt and fight like a herd of Sylacuagan step-siblings, but when it's time to be there for a friend, we know our way around respect and loyalty.

We also know how to fellowship and commune. That would be in a bar booth, clanking our salted rims.

Waitress: "You all from around here?"

Why does everyone stare at the outsiders? "Naw, we're from uh, yeah, not here, but it's very pretty and we're hanging with locals..." At least Eric and I mumbled something to that effect (and of course hoped that she didn't associate tourists with shitty tipping.)

Georgia took over, drowning out a mid-sentence Recondo, "Yeah, we live on the outskirts of town, so does that one on the end..."

The waitress, brownie points for attentiveness, turned her gaze to the two gentlemen who hadn't contributed.

"Yes, actually I am originally from Savannah," Velocisuave offered.

One left. All eyes on Cat. Feeling the peers, he eventually looked up from his menu, "Oh... Well, I fucked just 'bout everybody in Savannah." Straight-faced. Then back to his menu; the man was hungry. This was no time to chat about his childhood.

Gotta love Cat. Therapy for the soul, as was Savannah.

Beautiful town. I could consider living there, just for the vision of those spectacular trees burdened with Spanish moss. (I thought of bringing a bunch of it back with me and throwing in my own trees - as my mother did upon return from Savannah when I was a child - but I resisted.)

Spectacular weather and perfect backdrop, Miss Elva could not have asked for a more beautiful day.

(As a P.S., got to meet Gennie as well! She came by the viewing to pay her respects, and was surprised by the group of bloggers who greeted her before she could make it inside. Kudos to this sweet child, btw, who showed to support the boy who is seemingly addicted to pulling her pigtails!)

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posted by Key on 10:29 PM | Comments (6)

March 12, 2005

Thoughts With You

A dear friend has lost his Mama. The rest of us lose a Southern belle. Specifically, one of the old-fashioned variety who understand the powers of love, nurture, and outwitting every male in the household...(although the last is rarely conceded.)

I didn't know her, but I wish I had. Pissy though it made him, I love that she did this. She understood her unique power against this stubborn son of hers, and she used it to ensure he would take care of himself.

Rob requests donations be sent in lieu of flowers to the folks who took such excellent care of his Mama.

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posted by Key on 03:07 PM | Comments (0)

March 10, 2005

Can't Prove It!

He can YAP IT UP, but he can't prove anything.

But it only stands to reason that blog parents should eventually tire of raising an enigma and demand to meet her...repeatedly, in fact, until she finally managed to find a way to pull it off. Never doubt my girl. Pull it off she did, even adding a generation to the mix, as I had early on adopted Kel as my blogmama.

Ahh...The paint is still drying on the family portrait.

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posted by Key on 11:10 PM | Comments (6)
» Inblognito links with: Aves

Delusions of Grandeur

Am I published yet?
What? First I must write something?
Fine. Send my advance.

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posted by Key on 09:11 PM | Comments (1)
» Velociworld links with: A Fellow Sense of Self-Entitlement

March 09, 2005

Now I Have Something to Grope

When I first mentioned the toy, I did not have one in my possession.

Now I do. I have made the purchase.

Perhaps instead of half rubber, we should consider playing spiky gelatinous faux testicle stress ball at the next meet.

(If that's not a positive attitude towards stress relieving therapeutics, I don't know what is.)

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posted by Key on 05:54 PM | Comments (6)

March 08, 2005

No Thanks, I'm Trying to Quit

Hey, everyone has their addictions.

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posted by Key on 02:19 PM | Comments (2)

March 07, 2005

My Baby Lives

I've been worried about my youngest blog child, as he disappeared on me for a while there.

He is the black sheep a bit different, being a liberal and all, but he is thought provoking, debate worthy and needs some traffic. So, do Key a favah, and go visit my boy.

(And Jack, if you recall, this one's yours, so how 'bout pimpin' him a bit! I think he really is a chip off the 'ol block...)

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posted by Key on 03:17 PM | Comments (2)

March 06, 2005

Was I A Brat?

I look at the way Miss Priss treats her foster brother, and I wonder if I was half as bad - or maybe even twice as bad - to my little brother when we were growing up.

Somehow I think it more justified in my case. My brother was a true hellion. At age 5, he ran around nude (save his cowboy boots and pistol), he ran even faster when being chased with a switch (often adopting Daffy Duck sound effects), he ran away from home (often), he ran off his friends (daily), and he terrorized me the rest of the time.

I was laid back, he was crazy as hell. I was rational, he was anything but. So, I got my shits and giggles by making fun of him until he unleashed his inner Tazmanian devil on my ass.

One day, he was chasing me around the house, as he was bored and had already run off the poor child from next door. I soon tired of his game, stopped, turned and grabbed his nose, like the dorky adults did before taunting, "Gotcher nose!"

...which is exactly what I said before I took off running again. I have no idea why I did that, other than the fact that I hated it when the dorky adults did it to me. But I'm glad I did it, because his reaction was priceless.

He pulled in a shocked breath before demanding, "GIVE. IT. BACK!"

Now he's my brother, so I already thought he was retarded, but this was too much, like winning the lotto. "No way!" I yelled back as I continued running with newfound vigor.

He was on my heels, "Give it back! Waaaaaah! Give me back my nose! MOOOOOM!!"

It was difficult to keep up the pace given my hysterical laughter, but I persevered. Now the "baby" of the family was favored....more was expected out of me, therefore I was seriously punished for picking on the little guy. However, I couldn't imagine catching hell for this, so I have no clue how long I dragged it out...

But I did not tire of running and laughing as he continued to step up his plea for his nose. Finally, his uncontrollable sobbing rendered him incapable of running any further, and he crumpled to the floor in one of his famous tantrums.

This finally drew out a perplexed mom, who had apparently been capable of tuning out the rest. Perplexed, because usually when one child is victimized, the other one fears disciplinary action.

Yet, there I stood, a few feet behind my wailing brother, doubled over in laughter.

"MOM! She won't give it back! Tell her to give it back! Tell her!"

I held up empty hands to my mother.

"What honey? What does she have?"

"MY NOSE! Make her give it back!"

I laughed harder, if that's possible, and mom turned her back and covered her face with her hands to regain her own composure. Once gained, of course, she ordered me to return the nose.

I must have sported a most incredulous look, as I wondered how I was going to do that. She read it apparently, and prodded, "Just do it!" I think she just wanted out of the room so she could let out the breath she was holding in an effort to stifle laughter.

So I looked at the flailing pain in my ass and poked him in the nose. "There!" I said, and then waited for a reaction to the placebo.

He sniffled, pulled himself together, and walked away, giving me the mom sided with me stare.

(And I remained amused, already anticipating the day he'd be old enough to appreciate his own reaction, which would then be broached mercilessly...)

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posted by Key on 11:01 PM | Comments (7)
» Gut Rumbles links with: i knew she had a mean streak

Moving Right Along...

Chapter Five is up! Nice job getting our guys outta that little jam, Liv!

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five

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posted by Key on 04:38 PM | Comments (2)

March 05, 2005

Home Renovation Pics

As many of you know, I bought my home out of foreclosure four years ago. Someone was obviously pissed to have lost his home, either that or the place became a neighborhood hang out once it was abandoned.

Skylights and toilets littered the yard. The holes in the ceiling (where the skylights had been) allowed every season of weather into the living room. The half bath boasted the same purple carpet featured in the "before" pics below, along with mirrored tile walls.

As my husband was working full-time, I was the one with enough time on my hands to manage the subs for the project, so I made the executive decision to gut the place and basically start over. Nothing was salvageable save the oversized and elevated rock hearth surround on the fireplace.

I laid out the ideas to my main carpenter, and fortunately his back woods, misogynistic mentality only saw fit to question my judgment (by clearing something first with the husband) once. After that he called me "Boss." Okay, and as often, "Legs."

The project took four months. I loved every minute of it, and miraculously, stayed within budget, closing after renovations with an 80% LTV, meaning I (thankfully) MADE money on the upgrades.

Here are a couple of "before" pics:



And the following "after" pic shows the same two rooms, but from the opposite angle:


What you can't see is the left side of the kitchen, which includes a built-in desk (where I connect from home and bitch about my dial-up), several feet of countertop/cabinets and a pantry.

And I know, I have a crooked light fixture and a need for new light bulbs. (Or maybe the flaws aren't as obvious to everyone!)

I've been pleased though. And, of course, that would have to be my story either way, since I am responsible for the changes, but - this time - it also happens to be the truth.

A woman has to love her Kitchen...Real Estate 101.

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posted by Key on 05:40 PM | Comments (11)

March 02, 2005


Most posts in one day. Ever. I think. (If you want to fact check me on that though, be my guest!)

Whew... Might have to take the day off tomorrow!

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posted by Key on 11:35 PM | Comments (6)


...but I like to call it surgery.

My dermatologist begs me to "stop picking!" "Make me blemish-less, and I won't pick," I respond. And then we go back to discussing his world travels.

I've seen him lance stuff. And I think that for $300, I can do it myself. So tonight, I finally tired of a small, nodular, but bigger than a sty-looking thing in the corner of my eye.

Don't touch the eye! I know. That is why I left the damn thing alone for well over a month. But it wasn't healing, and as it seemed to be content to have bedded down permanently, I decided it had to be sliced. So I collected my tools - alcohol rubs, magnifying mirror, exacto knife - and I went to work.

Why is the skin so different around the eye? Too stretchy, too thin, and [holy friggin crap] too sensitive. The tearing certainly didn't help, but mission accomplished and, yes, I still have an eyeball.

I wonder if I am one of only a few with this compulsion. You see, if there is any sort of nastiness gathering under my skin, I can't get to it fast enough. Must kill it, explode it, level it, collateral damage be damned. What with this "apply compress and wait for it to go down" crap? What am I trying to show it my nurturing side? So I read that on a helpful site from the office, then I came home and lanced the beast!

Who are they talking to anyway? Who has that kind of will power?

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posted by Key on 10:59 PM | Comments (6)

Short Answer

...because the long answer to the "why blog?" question is simply unknown.

Although a couple of my posts of late have poked fun at the freakish aspects of blogging, I do have at least one reason for it (other than the obvious, which is an enjoyment of writing). It's a very controlled, yet lazy, means of socializing. Christina listed a few obvious cons. Consider these pros:

1) Surfing the roll allows one to enjoy other people's company discriminately without being obvious. They're boring, click. Gone. Next. They're intriguing, stalk for hours. It's like having a people remote.

2) The party meets on my watch, and no one knows if I bothered to fix my hair or shave my legs.

3) Within my forum, I hold a captive audience, meaning I have the floor whenever and for as long as I want! You can tell me to shut the hell up in my comments, but a) You can't interrupt me to tell me that, and b) I don't have to listen.

Okay, so the answer could have been shorter. I could have just said, "passive-aggressive attention seeking," but that description seemed almost childish.

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posted by Key on 10:12 PM | Comments (1)

Admissions of Hooliganistic Behavior

...definitely deserve a link. Appalling, yet amusing.

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posted by Key on 03:15 PM | Comments (1)

An Introduction

Blogworld, meet my backyard.

The dig site is literally walking distance. It is [was] a near opening golf course in the middle of horse country.

I figured some noteworthy accomplishment would put Mayberry on the map, and this fella is certainly a charmer.

Braselton hasn't had this much attention since Kim Basinger lost $19 million on us, not that I saw a penny of it.

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posted by Key on 01:40 PM | Comments (6)

Two Hour Lunch

Monday through Friday, 9am to 12pm and 2pm to 4pm.

What are...pediatrician hours! 20 per week!

Not complaining. I like it. In fact, I like it so much, that I find myself wondering: Why don't we let them set the standard for the work week?

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posted by Key on 01:24 PM | Comments (6)

March 01, 2005

My Simple Life

Do not let the blogfaddah fool you. He is merely bursting with incestuous paternal pride.

I am but a plain and simple child, aging child at that, country when country wasn't cool...

See Exhibit "A." This would be the family and friends congregating at the folks' farm. Think we posed for that picture? Nope. We'd been sitting there on that porch all day, like good country folk. The thin layer of smoke in the air was either from the boiled peanuts or the low country boil...can't remember which one we had going on that day.

Front and center with gangly limbs, brown roots and ponytail would be your hostess. Yes, I know it's fuzzy. That is to obscure the faces of the innocent. (Or because I don't feel like re-scanning it.)


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posted by Key on 04:37 PM | Comments (4)