With all the sadness and trauma going on in the world at the moment, it is worth reflecting on the death of a very important person, which almost went unnoticed last week.
Larry LaPrise, the man that wrote "The Hokie Pokey" died peacefully at the age of 93.
The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. They put his left leg in. And then the trouble started.
Shut up. You know it's funny.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Little Man
Granger (has been confused for both Manger and Ranger) i believe is trying his best to be the next Michael Jordan. I mean, the boy has his tongue stuck out about 90% of the time, like he thinks the air tastes good or something. But it is super cute, so I had to take some shots of him in action before he decides to move on to the next quirk.
The Best Pet Ever
I am not an animal person. Yes they are cute and whatever but I have allergies and don't like to be jumped or slobbered on. That is just me. However, Ann Riley is dying for one, so a compromise has been reached. Meet Puss 'n Water. He requires very little maintenance, only needs water once a week or so, does not shed, does not have to be housebroken and has pacified the constant nagging for a furry friend.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Changeling
So I have been waiting to see The Changeling for a while now, I actually do TRY to see all the movies nominated during awards season-although some I am severely disappointed over (ahem, There Will Be Blood) so anyway, last night was the first time I had a chance to see the flick. I must say-Angelina did a fantastically good job at the role-maybe her 25 kids were great inspiration for it, I don't know.
But anyway-aside from the she's-so-beautiful-it-should-be-illegal Angelina, the movie disturbed me deeply. Spoiler Alert!!! I guess I have such a preconceived notion that all people are inherently good, and it really throws me off my rocker to see a movie based on a true story with such a violent background. Not so much the police, but the manner in which the boys were kept and killed. Further research on Wikipedia on the murders were more detailed and gave more insight-but still....I shudder to think that people can be so cruel. But really-a great and must-see movie.
But anyway-aside from the she's-so-beautiful-it-should-be-illegal Angelina, the movie disturbed me deeply. Spoiler Alert!!! I guess I have such a preconceived notion that all people are inherently good, and it really throws me off my rocker to see a movie based on a true story with such a violent background. Not so much the police, but the manner in which the boys were kept and killed. Further research on Wikipedia on the murders were more detailed and gave more insight-but still....I shudder to think that people can be so cruel. But really-a great and must-see movie.
Daily Humor
OK so I am definitely one of these people that needs a laugh just about every day to cope with my surroundings-so as my first order of business as the blog queen I have decided to post something every day that makes me laugh. Now, warning you I have a really strange sense of humor, (those sonic commercials have me rolling) so please do not feel let down if you think it is crazy. Here is a bit of intellectual humor to kick the day off properly.
Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their collections of actual analogies and metaphors found in high school essays. These excerpts are published each year. Here are some past winners – or at least ones that have have taken the prize. May the copyright gods forgive us if we've erred in posting this for you.
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides
gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli,
and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound
a dog makes just before it throws up.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond
exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement
like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood
with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
John and Mary had never met. They were like
two hummingbirds who had also never met.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant,
and she was the East River.
Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only
one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil.
But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get
from not eating for a while.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping
on a land mine or something.
The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended
one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
It was an American tradition, like fathers
chasing kids around with power tools.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke,
he thought he heard bells, as if she were
a garbage truck backing up.
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides
gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli,
and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound
a dog makes just before it throws up.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond
exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement
like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood
with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
John and Mary had never met. They were like
two hummingbirds who had also never met.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant,
and she was the East River.
Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only
one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil.
But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get
from not eating for a while.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping
on a land mine or something.
The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended
one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
It was an American tradition, like fathers
chasing kids around with power tools.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke,
he thought he heard bells, as if she were
a garbage truck backing up.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
In the beginning....
Ok so a year ago, I did not even know what a blog was-aside from the Perez Hilton addiction I believe I need to seek help for, and here I am happily posting away at what I hope will be a fantastic outlet for me, as well as a great way to document the life of my little family.
Hubby Jason was complaining the other day that I don't document the little things enough-and voila-my perfect excuse to do so (along with a perfect use for the Canon Rebel I got for my anniversary!)
I am going to post some old ones just so I can fast forward to now (these kids do not grow at an alarming rate, ya know!)
At any rate, here are some old photos of Ann Riley, 3 and Granger, just shy of 6 months. They truly enrich my life-much more than my current obsessions, i.e. The Bachelor, Sweet Tea Vodka (no I am not a lush), The Twilight craze, The Bachelor...you get the picture.
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