It's not your father's Oldsmo-mosh pit

This past Saturday, I joined in a little heavy metal celebration in honor of one baby brother and one baby sister who both have birthdays in January. In addition to the obvious benefit of hanging out with my kid-ums, I had the pleasure of being reintroduced to The Mosh Pit.

Mosh pitting has changed in the four years since I last had the opportunity to check one out (and given the painful smack to the head I got Saturday night, it's not something I've missed). I don't care what ANYONE says, moshing can be violent and dangerous. Perhaps it depends on whether the "dancer" is just letting off steam or just being an ass. Seems pretty simple to understand that if I WANTED to slam dance, I would be IN the circle, not OUTSIDE of it.



Whether or not it is actually "dancing" is up for grabs as well. Call me old fashioned, but the whole head-banging, arms/fist flailing, jumping around like you're in a kickboxing class thing just doesn't translate for me.

Oh, so as not to be accused of being sexist, I should mention that this isn't only about guys...chicks mosh as well. ..

You don't need clam chowder to throw a brick at a turtle.

My new favorite site:

We all know of my "love" for Hello Kitty

So how could I resist this precious little greeting?




Happy Chinese New Year!!!

Fun Facts: January 29th, 2006 starts The Year of the Dog ( sorry the pic is of a cat!) on the Chinese 12-year animal calendar and "bingxu" on the 60-year "formal" Stem-Branch calendar. Bingxu is Year 7 in the current 60 year cycle!

My computer software is giving me attitude

I'm burning a DVD last night with what is ordinarily one of my favorite DVD burning programs, but something wasn't working right...so I did what one ordinarily does when something isn't working right (no - I always hold out on turning the computer off/on as a last resort)...I hit the "cancel" key.

I get the typical "Are you sure you want to cancel?" and I click on the "Yes, I know what I'm doing, stop second guessing me!" button.

Nothing "cancel involving" happens.

I wait a litle while and watch the program pretend to continue to do something useful. Finally I get tired of waiting and click the "cancel" key again.

This is the response I got:




ATTITUDE! From a COMUTER PROGRAM! Some programmer is getting a strongly worded letter signed "Love, Me." And as soon as my minions arrive, they are SO being sent out to teach this guy a lesson.

I can't wait.

Cat Rental Special

THIS WEEK ONLY! Get Daphne AND Phizz to tub-sit for only $50!!! (qualifies for free patent pending "beat down" of other cats by Princess Daphne!)

Guess who hangs on blogspot!

http://videoprofessor.blogspot.com/

Wicked awesome cool, huh?

Who woulda thunk that The Video Professor had the time to sit around blogging? I'm personally very impressed that business is so good that he can just hang out in his office surfing the Net all day. I totally want his gig.

Cat Rental Options

I've realized that my cats have reached that point where the love, comfort and companionship they provide me with is outweighed by the cost of caring for them. They fail to appreciate the sacrifices I make for them. They fail to be minions OR henchmen. I can't have that kind of disloyalty in my organization. Changes need to be made. Costs need to be cut. Income needs to increase.

I have therefore made the executive decision to rent out the cats to recoup some of my losses. Qualifications are as follows:

Princess Daphne Laurel



Education: Streets of NJ for 6 weeks; Suburbs of Westchester for 8 months; NYC for 2 years

Skills: Preening; Staring at non-existent objects long enough to make the humans look around wondering what it is I see that they don't; Overeating; Mewling piteously when I don't get my way; Hanging out in the bathtub for no good reason; Chewing on elastic or rubber bands

Current Job: Beating up Phizz

Rates:
Preening: $60/hr.
Staring: $30/hr.
Overeating: $40/hr.
Pitiful mewling: $20/hr.
Bathtub sitting: $40/hr.
Chewing on elastic: $20/hr.
Beating up other cats: Free with $50 purchase

Charles Philosopher Civet ("Phizz")

Education: Streets of Harlem; Foster Home; SMC's apartment

Skills: Yowling; Galloping around the apartment; Chewing on electrical cords; Staring out the window; Playing with the sproingy bouncy thing at 2 AM; Overeating; Lounging; Getting into general mischief; Giving kisses to everyone and rubbing my face against theirs; Snuggling

Current Job: Doing Daphne's bidding

Rates:
Yowling: $100/hr.
Galloping: $80/hr.
Chewing on cords: $20/hr.
Staring: $30/hr.
Sproingy Bouncy Thing play: $30/hr. ($50/hr. between 9 AM and 1:59 AM)
Overeating: $60/hr.
Lounging: $20/hr.
General mischief: $20/hr.
Kisses and love rubs: $50/hr.
Snuggling: Free with purchase of kisses and love rubs
Doing Daphne's bidding: Priceless

To paraphrase Will Smith in "Independence Day"...

I have GOTS to get me some of these!

I have been ruminating for some time over whether I want "henchmen" or "minions."

I've unequivocally decided that minions are the way to go. I mean, think about it: henchmen need costumes, they require pay, they have a nasty tendency to think independently, they are thieves first and followers second - they wouldn't hesitate a minute to stab you in the back, steal your stuff and/or go over to another team. And just think...they know all your most closely-guarded secrets. If your arch-enemy makes them a better deal, forget about that state-of-the-art technology you spent so much time and stolen money developing and building. Right out the window. Right...out...the...window, I tell you!

Minions, on the other hand, are blind devotees. They will lay down their lives for you JUST BECAUSE. They are invariably evil, and therefore have no qualms about overrunning cities and conquering worlds. If you are lucky enough to get the supernatural kind, they can even morph to look like you and sit for your exam in Taxation of Executive Compensation! And, best of all, if they get a suck grade (which shouldn't happen to a supernatural evil being), they will grovel abjectly before the other minions set upon them and make short work of their presence.

Oooh...scaaaarrrrry!

I totally want the winged demon-y type. The kind that circle around like a swarm of locusts and blot out the sun when I cry, "Rise my minions! Come to me!" That would be SO COOL!

eBay, here I come!!!

It's over between Rzeznik and me

Now I'm saving all my smiles for this guy...

I do have to qualify that my deep and abiding affection extends only to the man and not to the turkey feathers. Passion only goes so far.

I've got two new hobbies

The first one is whisper-hissing, "I'm Batman" whenever someone says, "Who are you?" This rarely extends to my personal life. It generally revolves around talking back to the television where such a question seems to occur on a regular basis (read: television is totally existentialist). Yes, I talk to the TV. I also talk to my cats and, occasionally, to my computer. I can do that. I'm Batman.

The second hobby is tacking on at the end of letters, e-mails and verbal statements (preferably of the fcuk you kind), "Love, Me". It doesn't tend to remain, you understand, but it is fun to add. Try it sometime. Just don't forget to delete it when writing or keep it in a thought bubble when talking. Otherwise you might just get clocked or something...and wake up thinking: "I'm Batman."

And we know that's not true, because I'M Batman.

Love, Me

And this is BEFORE we got drunk

Yes, I'm still stuck on NYE. I'm only just finding incriminating photos on my digital camera. If I do this right, I should be living off extortion money for the rest of my life.

Unfortunately, blackmail and posting the pix to my blog don't co-mingle well, so I will have to leave you to your imagination.

Hee hee.

This is a safe one to share...

Hard to tell, but those snowflakes were the circumference of baseballs. Perfect powder. For the skier/snowboarder crowd, it must have been the perfect way to end the year.

I wouldn't know. I was too busy helping to clean up the mess of 7 rowdy, drunken revelers before the maids arrived (yes, I'm comfortably middle-class...I clean up before the maid comes).

Yeah...that didn't work. We got totally busted just as we were on the last run. Fortunately, the "maids" turned out to be a bunch of guys that we proceeded to tip/bribe with imported beer.

This is a "we're still getting our party on" shot:

Okay...that doesn't look so bad...but you can't see the kitchen...boy howdy! If we didn't make short shrift of that wine refridgerator! (Why is this sounding less and less like the total fraternity party I remember?)

There's a great poem I learned when I was a kid, called "Elephony". I'm not sure of the author, but suffice it to say that it is TOTALLY copyrighted and I didn't write it (and neither, most likely, did you...but if you did, Dude! I LOVE this poem!)

Once there was an elephant
Who tried to use the telephant
No! No! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone
(Dear me, I'm not certain quite
That even now I've got it right!)
Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk
The more he tried to get it free
The louder buzzed the telephee
(I fear I'd better drop the song
of the elehop and the telephong!)

So now you're asking yourself, "What the heck is she talking about?" Well, I don't remember right now, but there was a legitimate thread back to the conversation...and it was a good one, too. Sorry you're missing out.

Don't hate the playa!

So my sister informs me that some little brat took exception to my...I mean my nephew's...kick a$$ diorama and ripped off all the foamcore pieces. Politely, however, the perp left them lying in the box.

Thoughtful, eh?

I might have to make a Consumer Phone Call to the FBI and see if this is behavior indicative of a future serial diorama destroyer. Anyone have the 800 number for the Feebs?

Jersey Chicks' Rockin' New Year's Eve

Fuggitabout Dick Clark.  You want to see some serious rockin' out, go to Jersey.  Any part of Jersey.  I was way up at a ski resort and the same chicks you see with the leftover 80's hair, leftover 80's clothes and leftover 80's drinking binges in Trenton are the same chicks you see in Vernon. 

 

Of course, it was mostly our fault for having to ring in the New Year with Jersey chicks since we refused to pay $160 a head to hang out at the resort restaurant with tourists drinking cheap champagne and grazing the lobster buffet.  How do I know it would be cheap champagne (note the lower case "c")?  Because the Champagne I drink costs nearly that much a bottle.  And lobsters at market price would do up the balance of that charge quite quickly.  Not to mention we'd had dinner and drinks for nine at the same restaurant two nights before for under $250.

 

Anyway, back to the Jersey chicks...

 

Someone thought it would be a good idea to hang out at the local bar attached to a local restaurant (which actually made excellent food), and having no better thoughts, the rest of us agreed.  There was even a kick ass (I lie so very well) band entirely made up of guys in their 50s playing covers of Judas Priest, Led Zep and Metallica.  Mostly Judas Priest.  I think that's because drunk Jersey guys dig watching drunk Jersey chicks dancing with each other in front of a band that is amped far too loud for the room.  I might also add that Jersey chicks can't dance (pardon the blanket commentary. but I've seen a lot of Jersey chicks try to dance, and I have yet to find one that has any sense of rhythm whatsoever.  It's my theory that that's why they listen to hard rock and heavy metal.  Aside from tossing around long hair and gyrating a bit, there really isn't much in the way of dancing you can do to "Headin' Out to the Highway" and "Breaking the Law".  Especially crappy covers of those songs.)

 

We were basically bored stupid, but at that point we had less than 45 minutes until the ball dropped, so we alternated standing around screaming "WHAT???!!!" at each other and making phone calls (outside, where you could hear yourself think) and trying to be polite to the drunk Jersey chicks in the bathroom who were very friendly, but wanted to have long drawn out conversations revolving around, "Happy New Year!" "Hey!  Happy New Year to you, too!" "Yeah! Happy happy New Year!" "Yeah...have a good one!" "You too!  You have a Happy New Year!" 

 

Drunken Jersey chicks are nothing if not friendly.

 

After the ball dropped, we went back home, drank some Champagne, ate some cake emblazoned with "2006!" made some more phone calls (MIKE!!!) and dragged ourselves to bed.  But at the end of the day, the important thing was that we were with friends when we rang in the New Year and I hope you were, too.  Mazel Tov!