Zombies vs. Virus

I know, I know my zombie obsession/fetish? It is out of control.

It just seems everywhere I go and everything I read it always comes back to...zombies. Dare I give in to what my heart and mind keep whispering to my quirky soul?

First of all, let me feed your paranoia (not saying you have any, but in case you do...). Did you hear about the April 1 virus?

It's called Con***ker.

I don't even want to type it's full name on my blog. I'm afraid it will serve as some sort of cyber beacon for the hackers who have been developing this virus. Right now it is simply a virus-in-cue. It has set itself up in millions of computers and is ready to receive instructions.

That's where April 1 comes in. Apparently, this is the day when it will receive more instructions. The question is: to do what? Part of the virus is already out there. It is just not doing anything...yet. I mean why would hackers set up a "benign" virus. It seems like a pretty elaborate first step of something with the potential to be huge.

Folks, this could be the onset of the Zombie Apocalypse.

I don't know.

I am resigned to not only accepting, but welcoming the zombies. If this is the beginning of the Age of the Zombie then I would go as far to say that, although it would not be my first choice, I think I could live a somewhat happy existence as a zombie.

I try to keep a cup half-full philosophy.

But wait, can one still blog as a zombie?

No? Then forget that.

Okay, I'm going to try and put the zombie business on the back burner for a few minutes.

Why can't I stop shuddering?

*shudders*

Now on for some other random quirky news.

Does anybody look at my sidebars? Let me take a count. Raise your hands please. One....two..... that's all? Well then this tidbit is for the two of you.

You might have noticed a cool new badge on my blog. It reads, "I write for Moms Without Blogs."

Yours truly, Quirkyloon, has been invited to be a regular contributor to the web blog Moms Without Blogs dotcom.

I am stoked.

Lee, who is heading this compilation blog effort is one of the coolest blogger women I know. I love her because she is sooooo real. She's not afraid to admit her mistakes as a parent and as a human being (not zombie), which frankly is so refreshing. Reading her blog makes me feel a lot better about not being the perfect Mom or person.

I am perfectly loony, but in other areas of my life? Not so much perfect, ya know?

My first post will be up on Thursday, April 2nd (barring any blogosphere meltdown due to the Con***ker virus or if I get eaten by a zombie). Anyhoo, don't wait til then. Go and check it out! There are some are really cool and fun women there. You won't be disappointed.

Well, is this post long enough yet?

Gah.

In the event that this is my last post due to either the virus or zombies, I would like to sing a song.

First of all, join me in an ear tug.

That's right. An ear tug. Right ear, left ear, it does not matter. Just do it already. (wow...cranky, aren't I?)

One, two, three. TUG.

I'm so glad we had this time together....
Just to have a laugh while writing my blog...
Seems I just got started and before you know it...
Come the zombies who will haul me off!


*bleh, blah, blooo, bleh, blah, blooooo*


Oh no! They've come for me! Help me...


Help....

m.....


*signal out*

Hidar

I don't know how it happened.

Or why it happened.

I'm just so glad it did happen.

It happened on a sunny Arizona morning. The warm air swirled around my face, gently caressing me with sweet sun-ray kisses. I was relaxed and in my happy place.

So of course, off I went to do some necessary shopping.

First of all, let me preface this episode with a few sad, ugly, but true facts.

No makeup.

No shower.

No boob. (At least I had a bra on....I just forget the fake sista!)

Of course, I see everyone I know on the planet earth at the store. Okay, so it was not everyone, just someone, but it had the potential to have serious social ramifications for me.

Dang, these tough economic times. All my friends and acquaintances are coming out in droves to my store.

Wal-mart.

Oh yeah. Before these 'hard" economic times, you all would not be caught dead in a Wal-mart! But now you all are singing a different tune. You've come to my world...the dark side.

Go ahead, throw tomatoes if you like. I bet you bought them at Wal-mart because they are cheaper than your regular grocery store.

Ha!

Anyhoo, my moment of torture had begun.

I had barely started the planned perusing route of the store when my hidar went off!

*beep beep warning warning danger danger*

I stopped dead in my tracks and whipped my head around.

"Wha...?"

Then I saw her. Debbie*. I mentally looked at myself and saw what she would see and I realized that I was in no shape to be seen by her let alone say, "Hi,' to her.

I thank my heightened sense of hidar. It warned me just in a nick of time.

I quickly assessed the situation. She hadn't seen me, that was in my favor. But if I did not do something soon....I would indeed be forced to not only say, "Hi," but to say it with a sincere smile on my face.

Gah.

She was perusing the feminine products aisle. I had just come from the shaving cream aisle and our worlds were about to collide. Debbie, while a lovely person in theory has a huge, gossipy mouth. I could NOT let her see me this way.

So I did the only thing any sane, normal person would do. I dashed down the next aisle. Then slowly and deliberately I positioned myself with more of my back facing towards the end of the aisle where she might appear. With my sharp peripheral vision, I waited.

One.

Two.

Three.

There she is!

And...and...and...WHEW!

Eureka!

She kept on going! She did not see me! My hidar had saved me from a potentially embarrassing and awkward moment.

I quickly pushed my cart to the self-checkout aisle. I kept looking around me with a forced nonchalance.

Still no Debbie.

I paid for my purchases and got the heck out of there.

Hidar.

Don't leave home without it.









*Name has been changed to protect the clueless.

Driving Under the Influence

I. am. guilty.

 

I was driving under the influence!

 

I am mortified and shocked at my decadent and irresponsible behavior.

 

You knew Ms. Honda.

 

You steered cleared of me and I do not blame you.

 

Not one bit.

 

I was driving in two lanes!

 

(gasp)

 

The dotted white line was in the middle instead of on my left.

 

I saw you brake quickly.

 

You kept your distance, until I turned.

 

Smart move Ms. Honda.

 

I respect your choice.

 

I would have done the same, if I had been in your car.

 

You recognized a possible driver driving under the influence.

 

Ms. Honda, you were correct.

 

I was distracted by my own vice.

 

I should not have been driving.

 

I was NOT paying attention.

 

I admit it.

 

I should have let my husband drive.

 

No excuse.

 

I was driving under the influence of...a package of McDonald's french fries.

 

*sob*

 

I'll never do it again!

 

I promise.

 

I will not desperately grab at the bag, digging for a french fry.

 

Thereby allowing the steering wheel to slip a little under my greasy fingers.

 

I put myself and others in danger.

 

For a selfish pleasure.

 

The would be tragedy was averted.

 

I'm grateful.

 

And yet still very sad.

 

For a tragedy still occurred.

 

They forgot to give me my ketchup.

 

*sigh*

Saturday Shakespearian Insult

Shakespeare Insult  - Troilus and Cressida

"Thou art as loathsome as a toad."

 

Nice Will, real nice.

 

All the toads in the world are up in arms at your cruel, insensitive words. 

 

You know not all toads are loathsome.

 

Gah.

 

When will this toad bigotry stop?

 

Toads have feelings too and they should not be treated as inferiors or thought of as 'loathsome."

 

Toads provide a valuable service to humans.They eat flies people.  This means there is one less fly out there to bug you and me.

 

Some toads provide entertainment. Take for example, this toad who is doing the toad-pond- boogie.

 

You can't put a value on entertainment like this. It is priceless. And we need more it in our lives. Please, do not discriminate against our toad- hopping amphibian friends.

 

Toads are also a welcome addition to the American workforce.  They get jobs and pay their taxes too. They are hard workers. When have you ever seen a toad slacking off? That's just it. You haven't.

 

Let's not forget how toads enjoy being Good Samaritans. They enjoy doing good deeds and do not seek the limelight. They only want to help their fellow creatures on this great planet earth. If it hadn't been for this toad, this mouse would have drowned.

 

We must defend the reputations of our warty friends.  I can only recall one "loathsome" occurrence regarding our toad-friends. Remember The Exploding Toad incident? That was messy and ugly. Not to mention quite smelly. Remember how we had to walk around with nose and mouth masks? It took a few years for that stench to clear up. But that was just one time Will, ONE time.

 

Have a heart. Toads are not loathsome. The only loathsome thing here is this unwarranted and unfounded negative attitude toward our fellow-toads.

 

Go out America. Find a toad. Grab a toad. Hug a toad. Our toady friends need us. Sir Will, you have done the toad world a huge disservice with your whiny, negative implication that anything "toadlike" is loathsome.

 

What utter nonsense.

 

Toadally. 

 

 

Quirky Dearest #4 - Zombies

Quirky Dearest,

 

I heard that a zombie apocalypse is on the horizon? This really scares me. What should I do? Is there any hope?

 

Fearfully Yours,

 

Zombie Scaredy Cat

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dearest Scaredy Cat,

 

Finally, a quality question.

 

First of all the zombie apocalypse? It is definitely coming. You should be scared, very "ascared." 

 

Some zombies have uber-strength and speed, other zombies move slowly and clumsily, but all zombies have a hefty appetite for human flesh. Not to mention since they are officially "undead" they need no rest or sleep. Hence, they can be quite persistent in the hunt of their prey: humans.

 

I've been doing research on this subject.  I finally figured out why they suffer from a never-ending craving for human flesh.

 

It is the high-fructose syrup content in humans. Zombies have "sweet teeth."  Almost all of human consumption, whether it be liquid or solid, is nine parts high-fructose corn syrup and one part whatever.

 

We are what we eat.

 

You could try growing cornfields around your house.  But that would only stop them for a little while.  Eventually, they will get to you.

 

So just relax. Let it happen.

 

There are worse things than going through life as a zombie.

 

Like...

 

Like...

 

I have grown tired of this problem. (yawn)

 

Quirky Dearest Out

UNfollowed

I hate to stop following a blog.  I don't want somebody's follower numbers to decrease. It's so debilitating when that happens. I know because it has happened to me!

 

I confess when it happens I wonder, "why?"

 

I don't take it too personally. *sob*  I did notice one follower who left after I made a comment about Mommy Bloggers.

 

Mommy Bloggers are a powerful force in the blogosphere. They were pretty much my introduction to the blogosphere.  But I quickly realized that despite the fact that I am indeed a Mom, I don't really fit in with them. 

 

I'm too different.

 

I'm not super wise. (How do these young Moms get so smart and opinionated? I'm not being snarky, I'm really impressed...most of the time!)

 

I'm not the cutesy princess type of gal. (I really don't care if you are a Mommy Princess Blogger. As long as you are nice to me? I will be nice to you. Girlfriend, is that a booger hanging out of your dainty nostril?)

 

I'm definitely not the super-duper-artsy-craftsy-never-bored-with-Momhood Mom. (More power to you Moms who are! Can I send my kids over? Please?)

 

Plus, most of the Mommy bloggers are young. (Anything younger than 40 is "young" in my book. Me? I'm young at heart and mind, but definitely not the body! Where are my pills? And my walker! What happened to my walker? I need it! Now!)

 

Also for me? As much as I love my kids...sometimes I feel like I'm going absolutely bonkers. And a lot of times sometimes I'm lazy and I'm okay with that. It helps me have a less stressful life. *smile*

 

That is why humor, or my attempt at humor, in this blog is such a wonderful creative outlet for me.  Sometimes I do blog about Mommy stuff, but sometimes I make up a story, or write a poem, or sing a song, or find wickedly funny pictures to post.

 

Heh, heh, heh. 

 

I just want to laugh...and make others laugh too.

 

Frankly, I do not discriminate against any type of bloggers. It does not have to be a humor blog, hence I follow or read male bloggers like VE (funny, funny guy), Cam (a Daddy blogger), or Marvin (a Christian Spiritualist blogger) to mention a few.

 

I read really snarky (and I'm talking serious snark people!) bloggers like Dani, Ettarose, and Hussy Housewife.

 

I read really sweet Mommy bloggers like Lee the MWOB queen and Julia at Sometimes Lucid.

 

I read my cyber gal-pals Reffie and Pyzahn.  Just feel a cool cyber connection with these gals and their blogs.

 

I read LDS bloggers like NikkiCrumpett, Lisaloo, and Mindi at Word to your Mother.

 

I always enjoy reading cancer blogger Meaghan at I Kicked Cancer's Ass. (because so did I...HA!)

 

It's all good. I'm an equal opportunity blog follower. And there are many many more of you out there that I follow that I did not mention. *smile* 

 

Nobody is off-limits to me. So although I am a mish-mash humor type blogger, I hope it brings smile or two and maybe even a laugh to your day.  Cuz your mish-mash definitely works for me, so here's hoping my mish-mash will work for you too!

 

*ding, ding, ding*

 

Oh, excuse me.  My cinnamon rolls are ready

 

You can never have too many cinnamon rolls.

 

What?

 

Oh, now you want to follow me again.

 

Pfft.

 

Fickle bloggers!

 

And if you unfollow me after this post?

 

No soup roll for you!

Fer shame!

Oh, I have been a very bad Quirky Mom.

 

Gulp.

 

I'm afraid and "ascared" to admit what I did.

 

It was the epitome of all that is wrong with our immediate gratification society.

 

But still, I did it.

 

I hang my head in Quirky shame.

 

I cannot believe the depths of laziness I have sunk to.

 

It was bad, people, really bad.

 

Maybe I shouldn't confess it.

 

I'm afraid I might lose some followers once you learn of my incredibly selfish and lazy deed.

 

Yeah, yeah, confession is supposed to be good for the soul and all that. But really are you all good for my soul?

 

Well yeah, you kind of are...so I guess I'd better 'fess up.

 

On the other hand, perhaps it is not so necessary after all.

 

Forget I said anything.

 

Go on.

 

Git.

 

Stop that.

 

You're staring.

 

Didn't your mother ever teach you it's not polite to stare?

 

(wringing hands)

 

*whistles*

 

What?

 

You're still staring!

 

Okay, I can't take it anymore.

 

Here is the truth.

 

In all it's ugliness.

 

I...

 

(deep breath)

 

I...

 

calledmysononmycellphonewhilehewasinthelivingroom

and

askedhimtogetmeasmallbowloficecreamfromthekitchen

which

hebroughttomeinmybedroomwithasmileonhisface.

 

There.

 

I said it.

 

And, I might add: I still don't know if confession is good for the soul.

 

But, that bowl of ice-cream? 'Twas tasty.

 

Mighty tasty.

 

Oh yeah, and I hang my head in shame.

 

Yeah.

 

I feel real bad.

 

Mm-hmm.

 

Bad.

 

To the bowl lazy bone.

You're My Ay-an-gel

"Come and save me tonight."

 

Some of you may recognize those two phrases from one popular Aerosmith song, Angel. 

 

I have always liked this song. A lot.

 

"Enough's enough. I've suffered and I've seen the light."

 

This song also brings back a special mother/son memory. I think I might be the responsible party for instilling a love of rock-and-roll in my eleven-year-old son.

 

Cover your eyes! It's flashback time.

 

A Quirky Mother and Quirky boy-child are riding in the car. The radio is on and playing Aerosmith's, Angel. Of course, Quirky Mom is singing along.

 

"You're my aaaannnn-gellllll,

Come and save me toniiiight.

You're my ay-an-ay-an-ay-an-an-gell,

Come and make it all riiiiight.

 

Come and save me tonight.

Come and save me tonight.

Come and save me tonight.

Come and save me tonight.

Come and save me toniiiiiight."

 

"Mom, why can't I just have a.... normal parent? That's all I want is for you to be...you know...normal! None of the other kid's Mom's act like you."

 

Unbeknownst to him an evil grin has appeared on my face. He cannot see my amusement and delight (or evil grin). This was a momentous Mommy moment. Definitely worth the wait. *hee hee*

 

"Oh yeah? Well let me tell you something. Normal is b.o.r.i.n.g! One day you are going to appreciate that your Mom is funny and silly. I like being this way!"

 

"I'm sorry Mom, but I just don't like it. I just want you to be normal like the other Moms."

 

This was from my now guitar-playing, song writing, rock-and- roller, eleven-year-old son, who was only eight-years-old at the time.

 

He felt, how shall I put this? Emotionally tortured.

 

But now? He appreciates that I appreciate his music. Ha! It was mine, mine, MINE....long before it was ever his.

 

He's singing and playing a different tune now.

 

Ha!

 

Excuse me. My son just called out to me.  He wants me to hear the song playing on his stereo. He's singing it...and what do you know? It just happens to be one of my favorite tunes too!

 

"You're my ay-an-ay-an-ay-an-an-gell...."

 

My "angel" and I? We make bee-you-tee-ful rock-and-roll music together.

 

Just like a mother and son should.

 

 

Chin Up Quirky!

And they said it would NEVAH happen!

 

VE, that wacky, crazy, and nonsensical guy tagged me!

 

It took a couple of hours to pick my chin up off the floor. Two weeks and two dozen Tylenol later, the pain has finally subsided and I'm ready to tackle this meme in my usual "Quirkinista" style.

 

He was not too clear on the rules of the meme. You know why? He is a SMH (Serious Meme Hater). There are a lot of you SMHers out there in the blogosphere. It's amazing to me that he even did the meme. But I think it tugged on his nonsensical heart-strings and he felt he could manipulate it, VE style.

 

Or should I say VEnista style! And he did a very fine and funny job of it.

 

Anyhoo, it's a meme about sixes! Six habits or six things of no importance about me.

 

Okay. Six random quirky habits or tidbits.

 

Hmm.

 

I'm drawing a blank a here.

 

Am I really that uninteresting that I can't think of anything to write?

 

Still thinking.

 

Thinking.

 

Waiting for inspiration.

 

Still UNinspired.

 

Okay. Let me just tell you right now.  I'm having a hard time focusing.  My mind is on something else.  I just can't stop thinking about something.  It's strange and quirky, of course. I don't even want to confess what it is that I'm thinking about. But dagnabbit, it won't leave my mind. The images keep on assaulting me.

 

(exasperated) All right, already.  I'll just tell you (and show you).

 

It's...

 

Chins.

 

I know, very strange.

 

But look at these chinny pictures I came across recently.

 

   

Now Conan O'Brien is a funny guy (some of the time). His chin is very pointy.

 

Does a sagging mouth with pointy chin mean a funnier person?

 

Gah. I hope not.

 

 

Then I came across the legend that is Cher.  Her vibrato inspires my public opera singing style. I don't think she knows this. (Perhaps it's time for a fan letter.)

 

Does her boxy chin give her vibrato more power?

 

Gah. I hope not. (It's probably in those cheeks of hers...high cheeks!)

 

 

 

Now take a look at Whoopi Goldberg.  She's just whoopi, wacky, wild and crazy in my book. I like this. This is a good thing.

 

Does her chin that supports her manly jowls give her that extra comedic punch?

 

Gah. I hope not.

 

 

 

Another comedy queen is Rosie O'Donnell.    She is just a wee bit opinionated, but I can over look that. I still think she is hilarious.

 

She's a champion for gay rights and has a wife.

 

Does her squared-off, lesbian chin feed her funny bone?

 

Gah. I hope not.

 

 

Tom Cruise, co-founder diligent Scientologist. He seems willing to help people, but he can be quite hateful, if they are on anti-depressants.

 

So does his pin-pointed chin contribute to his dichotomous personality?

 

Yep. I think so.

 

 

And then there is this: the grand-daddy of all chins. Jay Leno.  I'm going out on a limb here to say that he has a ton of funny packed in that appendage.

 

He wears it proud.

 

I would too, if I were that funny.

 

 

After seeing these (ahem) six images of funny wacky people, I took a closer look at myself. I scrounged up my own caricature image.

 

Hmm.

 

No pointy, boxy, manly, gay, scientological, long and huge appendage of a chin on me.

 

 

I'm doomed!

 

 

 

 

 

 

caricatures source

Questionable Names

"If you were named based on your traits, habits, or likes, what would your name be?"

 

One name could be: Brownie Bloggy Pop

 

Why?

 

Trait. I'm a brunette. AND...I have just as much fun as any blonde out there. I do!

 

Habit. Blogging: it's a hard habit to break.

 

Likes: Pop, namely in the form of Diet Dr. Pepper. Ah, can you hear the fizzle as the lightly sweetened, caramelly, liquid hits the ice cubes.  Then take a deep, long drink.  Feel refreshed and satisfied.

 

Yeah, baby.

 

Or another name of mine could be: Shorty Lanatic Booksy

 

 

Trait. I am on the short side, measuring in at a whopping five feet, four and a quarter inches.  Every quarter inch counts! Just sayin'.

 

Habit. Let me explain. A person who is a fan; totally absorbed, obsessed, and diligent about watching the television show, Lost, is a lanatic. The word is derived from the words Lost and fanatic combined hence, lanatic. I'm still spinning from the story arcs embedded in this show, but loving every minute of it.

 

Likes. Books! I love 'em! I love, love, LOVE to read. I'm pretty much a fictional gal. *smile*  I know I should read more non-fiction and continue trying to get "edjamakated," but it's so much more fun reading fiction.  Did I mention the zombie novels? Oh yeah, I did. They were fun in a gross and disgusting sort of way.

 

But probably the best name that suits me to a tee?

 

Uniboober Quirky Mama!

 

Ha!

 

No explanations necessary.

 

*smile*

Pop goes the.....

Oh look at the white mound of puffiness!

 

How utterly delectable!

 

I've quivering with anticipation and excitement.

 

Delicately, I place one finger on the right side. A wrong move and this whole operation could go wrong. 

 

Okay, good right finger positioning acquired.

 

Now the other finger.

 

Delicate Quirky, del-ee-kit!

 

Wait, wait, wait!

 

Slowly.  Yeah, that's better.

 

Not so fast, my dear.

 

Gently my other finger gets into prime position.

 

Now let the orchestra begin.

 

Both fingers slowly and deliberately moving towards each other in a synchronized rhythm.

 

Oh wait.

 

Stop.

 

Push a little more deeply on the right finger just ever so slightly.

 

Ah, that's it!

 

Once again the music begins.

 

In perfect harmony, the fingers daintily push together and then...

 

The moment of truth.

 

*poof*

 

Ah.

 

Release!

 

(high soprano voices singing) Ahhhhhhhhhhh!

 

I feel utterly content.

 

No more tension.

 

The relief is palpable.

 

A slow smile forms on my lips.

 

I did it!

 

Success.

 

Pop goes the pimple!

Quirky Dearest #3

Oh my, it's another day in the life of Quirky Dearest. I don't know how I survived without this letter to brighten my day.

 

========================================================

Quirky Dearest,

 

How do you convince employees to stay focused during staff meetings? Every week we have a mandatory meeting, and every week the people in that meeting bring up personal issues or start talking about entertainment news.

 

I know more about the reality shows: Rock of Love with Bret Michaels, America's Next Top Model, Celebrity Fit Club, and Survivor than the typical reality television enthusiast. I don't even watch these shows!

 

I'm also learning more about PMS and minstrel cycles (apparently piccolo players have monthly pain) than any man should have to hear.  But the straw that broke the camel's back? Learning about my boss's irritable bowel syndrome. He actually leaked out this information at our most recent staff meeting. What a sweet piece of information that was to learn about. And I am talking details: extreme stinkin' graphic details.

 

I've tried re-routing the conversations, but my boss is the worst offender! What should I do?

 

Trying to Stay Focused

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Trying to Stay Focused,

 

Buy an air horn. Blast it at these meetings. That will get their attention and help them refocus.  Use it on an as- needed basis.

 

Oh, and regarding your boss?  Threaten to leak his "secret" to your corporate office. Threaten to leak the same details he has shared with you. Or you could show some mercy, and present to him a box of Extra Strength Depends at the next meeting. Then watch how quickly you get promoted up the corporate ladder and out of that office.

 

I am tired of this problem. (yawn)

 

Quirky Dearest Out

========================================================

 

Don't forget...blah, blah, blah...got a question?

 

I always have the answer.

 

Send it to quirkydearest@gmail.com.

 

Oh, just do it already.

 

You can remain "anonymous."

 

Whatever.

Banned!

I. have. been. banned!

 

Yes! Can you believe it?

 

I know, I know.

 

Hard to believe.

 

And on my part, there was no public opera style singing involved.

 

'Tis sad, but true.

 

If I'm going to be banned, I want to at least earn it.

 

My eleven-year-old son posted signs on his bedroom door with pictures of the people who are banned from entering his room.

 

Yep.

 

There's a picture of Quirky Little Brother, Quirky Mom, and Quirky Dad with this word underneath the pictures:

 

 

Ouch

 

 ED

 

 

 

BANNED

 

Ouch.

 

But, for a mere ten dollars a month, one can purchase entry rights to his room. According to the fine print found on the ban notice.

 

Well.

 

What a screaming deal that is.

 

Actually, I'm afraid to go in there. Lately, what little sneak peeks I've gotten?

 

Spooky.

 

Maybe being banned is not so bad after all.

 

And much cheaper.

 

I'll take banned for zero dollars.

 

 

*smile*

Oh, What A Web We Weave...

Snarkyloon here. Quirkyloon needed a day off. As I searched my snarky, poetic mind to write something for her, this is what I came up with. 

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Need a new educational and frightening enlightening nursery rhyme for your sweet little bratty imp child?

 

Try this one.

 

*evil grin*

 

This spiderling fell into a huge chocolate vat to become part of a candy bar.

(The average chocolate bar has 8 insects' legs in it.)

 

This spiderling stayed home because some spider bullies broke his glasses.

(Spiders usually have eight eyes, but still they cannot see that well.)

 

This spiderling ate his mommy right up. Yum yum.

(Certain female species of spiders sacrifice their bodies as a food source for their offspring.)

 

This spiderling had none.

(Awww.) 

 

This spiderling snuck out at night and was never seen again!

(The average human eats 8 spiders in their lifetime at night.)

 

This spiderling was horny, so he started playing, "Feel Like Making Love" by Bad Company.

(Some male spiders pluck their cobwebs like a guitar, to attract female spiders.)

 

This camel spiderling was bitten by a zombie.

(Okay so it's a myth. "Camel spiders" live in the deserts of the Near East, anaesthetize sleeping humans and eat large chunks of their flesh. They are a foot long, lay eggs under camels' skin, and run 25 miles per hour screaming like a banshee. Dang, this is some good stuff. Too bad none of it is true.)

 

This spiderling cried, "Help me! Help me! Help meeeeee!" as it was slowly lowered into a deep fryer.

(Fried spiders taste like nuts.)

 

So there you have it.

 

I know, I know. My poetry?

 

It's a gift.

 

 

 

spider tidbits

Minnie, A Cancer Survivor

This is NOT my typical attempt at a humor post today. Read if you like, or don't read if you like.

*smile*

I've been going through a bit of Quirky slump. My mind has been focused on one lady.

She is dying.

Of cancer.

That bitch.

I met Minnie at my gynecological support group meetings through a local hospital. I remember the first time I saw her.

I saw the pain in her eyes.

She was soft spoken. A woman of few words. Her silence spoke volumes to me.

For some reason I have always felt drawn to Minnie and her partner Roz.
I feel nothing, but love and compassion for them.

I can see the depths of their suffering.

I don't know either of them that well. But I do know a little bit about the battle Minnie's been faced with.

Back in January at support group meeting, Minnie announced that she was no longer going to be receiving any type of treatment for her cancer. The chemo wasn't working. She entered a clinical trial with the hope that an experimental drug might help her. It didn't work and made her feel even more miserable and sick than the chemo.

She said it was time to listen to her body. The fight was over. She wanted to have some sort of control over her last days and she felt it was the right thing to do.

Since then, another support group "groupie" (cancer survivor) and I have visited with her several times.

I still see the pain in her eyes.

I have gotten to know her and her partner Roz better these last few weeks and I can't believe what a connection I feel to them. Their lives are so different from mine and yet this cancer connection seems to have tightly bound us by some unseen force.

Today, a hospital bed was scheduled to come to their house. The hospice nurse came and inserted a catheter. It hurts Minnie too much to get in and out of her recliner chair where she has been sleeping for over a month now.

The next inevitable step had to be taken. Despite the many attempts to maintain her comfort, the cancer has no mercy on her already worn-out body. The cancer continues to fester, causing pain, to an already pained body.

I kissed her on her cheek today, not knowing if this would be the last time I would see her.

My heart is so heavy with sadness.

I had the privilege of seeing pictures of a younger Minnie, one that smiled and looked healthy and happy. I saw the beautiful wedding pictures of her and her partner, Roz.

As she reposes in her recliner. I see a woman of quiet dignity. She is still a pillar of strength to those around her.

She has fought a courageous battle.

Even in her last days she exudes her quiet, inner strength.

I don't have any answers...or questions. Just an incredible, profound, deep sadness for these women.

I'm grateful that Roz and Minnie have been so receptive to our visits. I hug and kiss each one of them goodbye.

She looks beautiful. Her hair has been growing back in.

But the haunted look of pain still lingers.

It is there and I see it.

She lives for now.

For how much longer?

Only God knows.

Hearts are breaking, while the cancer grows ferociously, like a ravenous lion, taking over her body organs inside.

But I have no doubt, her spirit will go on.

And finally the pain will be gone!

And she will be welcomed home with open arms.

By a loving and merciful God.

This, I believe with all of my heart.

What Say Ye?

 Ladies and Gentlemen,

 

I come before you today with a sad, sad, tale.  A heinous crime was committed.  The horror is beyond description.

 

On Monday, March 15th at approximately 6:45 a.m. (MDT) a mauled bag of bread was found in the backyard.

 

I'd like to introduce as evidence, Exhibit #KA9REVL and Exhibit #KA9RMSTEVL

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I believe the evidence clearly shows that a crime was indeed committed. You can see how vicious, sharpened teeth viciously ripped open said bag of bread.  What was once whole, is now mere remnants of a formerly healthy loaf.

 

The usual suspects were rounded up.

 

  

 

Suspect #1, Guvvie.  Guvvie is an old spaniel mix female dog.  She is almost 16 years old.  Of late, she has developed cataracts on her eyes hence, she claims that she could not even see the bread let alone jump up to get it.

 

Yes, and I witnessed a display of her poor eyesight when she mistook a play hammer for a doggie treat.  In my opinion, her alibi is a strong and tight one.

 

Which moves me to Suspect #2, Looney.

Looney is corgi mix mutt of the female persuasion.  She is generally regarded as evile. She is a runner, but not a jumper.  Gates and zappers have been utilized to keep this mangy mutt inside property lines. 

 

Alas, her alibi? It is also a strong one. Her claim? "My arf short little legs won't let me arf arf jump that high to get to arf the bread. I wish they arf could, but *arf-sigh* they don't."

 

And I have witnessed for myself that this claim is indeed true. Corgi dogs can't jump.  At least not very high.  Not with those short, stubby, crooked legs.

 

 

Therefore we must conclude that the third suspect is indeed the perpetrator of the bread thievery that was committed today.

 

I give you, Maisy. Not only does she has the long legs that would make her capable of such a heinous deed, the guilt is written all over her face!  Look. at. her. eyes. The windows of her soul scream of mischief and evility in general. Also, I have witnessed her amazing jumping feats. She jumps through windows and her favorite hobby? Jumping on the trampoline.  This, ladies and gentlemen, is a canine born to jump.

 

Maisy, the six-year-old canine mutt IS the guilty party. 

 

Maisy's reply to the accusation?

 

"Whatever arf loser."

 

Wha?

 

Oh yes. She is the mangy mutt turned bread thief criminal.

 

I know, ladies and gentlemen, that you will find beyond a shadow of a doubt that the results of my investigation are correct.  Upon your approval, we will move to press charges against the canine offender.

 

Do not be fooled by the cute face, and the deceptively pinned back ears which are usually a sign of humility and submission.

 

She is a robber and a thief.

 

A murderess of bread!

 

As blog is my witness, justice will be mutt met!

Quirky Madness

Oh my gawsh!

 

While perusing the cable guide to see if there were any interesting movies to watch, I came upon this:

 

A Woman Under The Influence (1974) starring Peter Falk and Gena Rowlands. A wife's quirkiness leads to madness.

 

Quirkiness can lead to madness?

 

I don't understand.

 

That is definitely NOT happening to me.

 

Quirky's right shoulder jerks suddenly towards head. A shoulder tic!

 

Okay, so I do talk to myself...sometimes.

 

Quirky makes the Hannibal Lecter sound, "fafafafafafafafafa."

 

And yes, I even answer myself.

 

Quirky's right eye starts twitching.

 

Okay, I never wanted to admit this, but sometimes I think I see ghosts. Just filmy outlines floating around me.

 

Quirky wipes a little drool from left side of her mouth.

 

There is no doubt I am quirky, but mad?

 

Quirky's shoulder jerks: a tic gone wild! She is repetitively "fafafafafafafafafa" -ing, and her right eye is twitching wildly! Her mouth is drooling excessively.

 

 

I think not!

Take Your Lumps

"Lean forward Mrs. Quirky. Drop the shoulder. Bend at the waist."

 

pinching pain ensues

 

"Good, that's good."

 

"Okay Mrs. Quirky, lift your breast and step back."

 

"Now turn your face and head towards me, grab the bar. Good that's good. Place it that way. No, lean a little more to the right."

 

She squeezes one good boob and smashes it this way and that way, til it's all one mangled mushy mess.

 

"All right, this is going to hurt."

 

Really?

 

"All right Mrs. Quirky we're done, you can remove your breast and tie up your gown."

 

Quirky limps away in pain.

 

Yeah, the pain from the breast shot all the way down my leg to my foot.

 

 

Don't believe me?

 

You try it.

 

Sometimes a Quirky has got to take her lumps, but that is better than finding a lump.

 

So squeeze, pinch, and flatten away.

 

Ouch!

 

Now give me a hand would ya?

 

My foot is killing me!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quirky Dearest - Friday the 13th Edition

Well, it's that time again.  Time for another one of life's profound or idiotic questions to be answered by the gal who has all the answers.

 

That would be me.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Quirky Dearest,

 

Why do some people have all the luck?  They are born into rich families, they enjoy regular vacations, they have all the luxuries of life that so many of us yearn for.  They have yachts and gorgeous homes. Their homes are beautifully decorated.  They have cars and beautiful clothes. They ooze of wealth and money.

 

Not to mention they are all so beautiful. 

 

Why am I poor and ugly?

 

Homely Girl

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dear Homely Girl,

 

Umm, how shall I put this? They worked for it. Or their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, great-great grandparents worked for it, and so now they can afford to buy all those luxuries and plastic surgeons.

 

So I suggest you get a job and then later after you've saved some money? Go buy yourself a new car, new clothes, new nose and might I suggest a tummy lift?  Then, you too, can become one of the beautiful people.

 

In the meantime, make sure you wash your face, slap some war-paint on it, deodorize well, and wear clean undies every day.

 

You never know when Lady Luck might come sniffing your way.

 

I have grown tired of this problem (yawn).

 

Quirky Out

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Got a question? Send it to quirkydearest@gmail.com. I have all of life's answers... and then some.

 

Love Umbrella

I'm sure most of you have heard about Rihanna's and Chris Brown's little fight.

 

But despite getting beat up by her boyfriend, Rihanna has a very forgiving heart.

 

According to this article the two are collaborating on an album together.

 

Some of the album will consist of duets by the two lovey-birds and some solo songs as well.

 

Rihanna will be covering the following songs.

 

Hit Me Baby One More Time by Britney Spears

Do You Wanna Hit Touch Me There  by Joan Jett

Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benetar

 

Chris Brown will be covering these songs:

 

You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette

I Don't Love You - My Chemical Romance

Animal I Have Become - Three Days Grace

 

Then the loverly couple will cover:

 

Love Hurts by Incubus

Love Hurts by Nazareth

 

What a great example of strong love.

 

Despite a few bruises, Rihanna still has plenty of room for abuse Chris in her heart. Sometimes with relationship troubles: when it rains, it pours.  And we know she can always whip out her "umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh."

 

Haddaway's song, What is Love? says it all.

What is love?

Oh baby, don't hurt me.

Don't hurt me.

No more.

(sad sigh)

Published!

It's official folks!

 

I'm going to be published!

 

 

I just checked my gmail and looky looky!

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

From: noreply@urbandictionary.com

To:  quirkyloon@gmail.com

 

 

Thanks for your definition of blognoy!

 

 

Editors reviewed your entry and have decided to publish it on urbandictionary.com.

 

It should appear on this page in the next few days:
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=blognoy

 

 

Urban Dictionary

 

And here is the definition:

 

blognoy \blahg-noi\ vb 1. To annoy in a blog. 2. Any aspect of the blogging world that is annoying.

 

examples:

 

That post was blognoying.

She blognoyed me.

What a blognoying blog!

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Woo-hoo!

 

I'm published!

 

And they said it could never happen!

 

Ha!

 

 

I cannot believe it!

 

 

Me.

 

 

Published.

 

*sigh*

 

I know, I know.

 

 

How blognoying.

Quirky Horror

Did I mention I've been reading zombie novels? Yeah, a big thanks to Keely at The UnMom blog.  She mentioned this book: World War Z by Max Brooks and it sounded intriguing. 

 

Now before you wonder in your mind, "Why on earth would anybody read a zombie novel?" Let me ask you: have you heard of Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight series? It's a vampire love story.  And I liked it.

 

Before Twilight, I had never given vampire stories a chance.  So I wondered if I would be pleasantly surprised by a zombie novel.  Unfortunately, the Max Brooks novel was not available at the library. "0 copies available" according to the online card catalog.

 

Gah.

 

Well being the truly inquisitive Quirky gal that I am, I thought to myself, "What the heck? Let's search 'zombie fiction.'" I got more than a few hits.

 

I went and checked out several books that day. I've been reading zombie novels Monster Island, Monster Nation, and Monster Planet, by David Wellington. They've been okay, definitely nothing fantastic. A little more gory than I am used to, but sometimes gory does a body good.

 

Doesn't it?

 

Sometimes when I start a book, I have to finish it, because I want to know how it all ends.  These zombie novels? I could take them or leave them. Yet, I have not left them. I am still subjecting myself to the zombie genre which has become part of my daily horror regime. Yes, I have a daily horror regime. Doesn't everybody?

 

Something wicked and horrific this way comes to Quirky... especially this last Sunday.

 

I was so out of it.

 

It might have something to do with my allergies. My sinuses and throat are "allergetically" challenged right now.

 

Or there might be something else going on.

 

We got home from church and thankfully my eleven-year-old boy and my husband decided to cook lunch. Then my fantastic, sweet, loving, caring husband said the most wonderful words a wife will ever hear.

 

"Go lie down Hon, we'll take care of things."

 

"Okay, if you insist."

 

Yep, you had to twist my arm on that one. I plopped myself down on the bed and grabbed the clicker.

 

It took only seconds to go to.....the Sci-Fi channel.

 

Surprised?

 

I thought not.

 

Another "intriguement" grabbed me when I saw what was showing. Two movies in a row: Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning and Ginger Snaps Unleashed.  And guess what the movies were about? No, not zombies, but very good guess. No, these movies were about werewolves.

 

I'm somewhat reluctant to admit that I watched both movies and enjoyed them in a sick sort of way.

 

Were they the best movies? Nah. Were they kind of gory? Yep. Were they the typical movie Quirky enjoys? Nope.

 

And yet here I am digging the zombies and werewolves.

 

That's strange even for me.

 

What is up with this new found intrigue with horror? I don't have an answer. I'm puzzled myself.

 

Zombies and werewolves aside, the definition of "true horror" in my book?  When I realize we have no Diet Dr. Pepper in the house.

 

Now that, my friends, is real-life horror.

 

Quirky horror.

 

*insert high pitched wail and never ending shriek here*

A Fighting Chance?

All in all it was a good fight.

 

But Joseph still didn't feel the fight was fair.  "Crap", said Joseph, "I shouldn't have told Quirky I could whip her with one hand tied behind my back."    Damn straight Joseph can't take the almighty Quirky down like that!

 

Excellent idea, Quirky and Dorky!  For the love of chocolate was not worth fighting over....Granted, it was mighty fine chocolate... Heck, the chocolate was flat out awesome!

 

Idiots! That wasn't chocolate!

 

Jumping jelly beans, that was a giant...

 

Kilroy was here.

 

Let the zombies come forth to reign forever and ever!

 

The End

--------------------------------------------------------

 

Thanks to everybody for contributing to a very silly, wacky, strange, wierd, nonsensical story! I'm sure it will capture the eye of some publisher who will yell, "Who IS the genius behind this blog? I must publish her or I will utterly waste away and die!"

 

tee hee

Silly Sunday Story

Dear Readers,

 

Now does Quirky ask a lot of her readers and fellow bloggers?

 

Nooooooo.

 

Quirky needs help.  Are you willing to help her?

 

*smack*

 

Of course, you are. You've just felt the intensity of Quirky's desperation. She wants to write a funny little tale.  And she thinks she has found* a fun way to do this.

 

Quirky will begin first sentence of the story with the letter "a" and you or you or YOU... will write the next sentence using the next letter of the alphabet "b, c, d," etc ., etc., until we get to the letter "z." 

 

Quirky believes this will end up with a silly, funny, wacky, and of course, quirky story.

 

She's a bit narcissistic lately, isn't she? (Have you noticed all the pictures she keeps posting of herself? Gah!)

 

Then she'll blah, blah, blah, put the story all together and update this post with the finalized story.

 

So she asked me, Dorkyloon, to ask you wonderful, special, talented, compassionate, giving, funny, witty, intelligent readers and bloggers to go along with this.  Why? She was too scared to ask you all herself.

 

Can you say, "weenie?"

 

Anyhoo, she thinks you're going to have fun doing this.  So you will have fun, won't you?

 

*smack*

 

Of course, you will.

 

Now go and get your story-telling vibes flowing in your blogger noggins.

 

This is gonna be good.

 

And we're off:

 

All in all, it was a good fight.

 

Okay. Go ahead, first commenter. Start the next sentence with the letter "b."

 

Waiting.

 

Still waiting.

 

(rolls eyes) Come on people, don't let the Quirkster down.  She's "down" way too much of the time, especially when she forgets to take her happy pill.

 

*whistles*

 

(phone rings) Excuse me. Oh hiya Quirky. Uh-huh. Okay. I see. Gotcha.  (hangs up phone) That was Quirky and can you believe this? She is too scared to come and check her blog.  She thinks nobody will participate.  So I guess I'll have to come back and check for her.

 

Gah.

 

Okay, I'll give it a little more time.  It could get ugly folks, she's been kind of needy and desperate lately.  I mean in this sort of state, she could end up eating an entire cheesecake by herself.  We wouldn't want that to happen, would we?

 

Desperate times, people, desperate times!

 

Let's give her a blogging hand, okay?

 

Good.

 

Dorkyloon Out.

 

 

 

 

*Quirky found this idea at Writer's Digest.

What's In A Name?

 

William Shakespeare said: What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

 

Oh, really?

 

Is that so?

 

Interesting.

 

Because when I went to www.blogthings.com, I found out that my other names "would [definitely not] smell as sweet."

 

Check out these lovely other "Sandie" names.

 

My leprechaun name: Hairy Cabbageleaf.  Dang, my hairy chin issue is becoming more public. Where ARE those tweezers?! Maybe there is a leprechaun gremlin in the house?

 

My Funky Japanese Name is Seiyanotekiku. Bummer, there wasn't at least one "Hai!" in that name?  This makes me sad.

  

My Rockstar Name is Lipstick Sugarlipz. Well, I do think a good sweet stick of Bonnie Bell lip gloss does a set of lips, sugary good! It's definitely better than lipstick on a pig. *snort*

 

My Goth Name: Chimera Lovecraft. Chimera? Last time I looked... I might be missing a body part...but what's left is still all human...no inter-species breeding here. I think.

 

My Biblical Name is Zayit Mariasha. Wait, my biblical name is Zit? Oh no, that is Zayit.  Is that a biblical pimple?

 

My Star Wars Name is Sanbi Roel.  According to www.narutofanzone.com, Sanbi is the Three-Tailed Demon Turtle. I know I can be slow sometimes, but... gah! And yes, I can sound demonic at times. Especially when I laugh: bwahahahaha!

 

Your Hippie Chick Name is Tranquilla.  You may or may not know that Glen Frey recorded an instrumental song called, Agua Tranquilla. I. don't. like. it. Just like I never liked "You Belong to the City" or "The Heat Is On." Two of the hokiest 80's songs ever. Ugh.

 

Your Vampire Name: Opal of the Far East. Opal? It couldn't be something red, dark, and seductive....like...Bella?  Where's Stephenie Meyer when you need a good vampiress name.

 

Your Monster Name is Twisted Slayer. I am twisted in a quirky way. Slayer?  I can't help but think of the hawt Duncan McLeod  beheading Immortals to get Quickenings in the television series, "Highlander." *sizzle*

 

So contrary to what Sir Shakespeare said, these other names for Sandie? Definitely do not smell as sweet as...me!

 

And I did shower and deodorize today.

 

I think.

 

*sniff, sniff*

 

Quirky Dearest

 

Quirkyloon here to answer your questions for a better and happier life here on the planet earth.

 

I don't know how everybody found out that I have all the answers to life's questions, but now that the secret is out of the bag, I have to share.

 

It's not easy being such a wise person. People are pestering me high and low trying to get a bit of snarky sage advice from me.

 

So let's get started shall we?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Quirky Dearest,

 

I have a son who is about to turn eight-years-old.  Since he began talking at two months of age, he has been asking to go to Disneyland. I think it is finally time we take him there. But it is so expensive! How can I ask family members, friends, and strangers to contribute money for this very important life experience for our sweet, most deserving child.

 

I've broken down the expenses and hope you can help me find the best way possible way to conspire, so that others will feel obligated to help us.

 

Gas	$2500.00
Hotel	$2800.00
Food	$7000.00
Admission Tickets:
Adults              Children	$1500.00 $1250.00
Total	$15050.00

 

In total we would need roughly $15,000.00.  A screaming deal, I know.  It pains me to realize how this trip is so long overdue. All of his little friends have already gone and experienced the "happiest place on the earth." So you can see how very much is at stake. It is imperative that he have this experience. I fretfully fear for his emotional and mental well-being. If... we are forced to deny him this most important childhood experience, it may well be beyond our capacity to soothe what will be a deeply wounded psyche.

 

Any advice you can give would be most appreciated.

 

Yours,

 

 

Entitled Mom

 

-------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dear Entitled Mom,

 

Why, of course, your sweet little schnookums should be able to go to Disneyland and I am quite certain that friends and family will be more than happy to help you out.

 

How to ask?

 

First, get a gun. 

 

Second, load it.

 

Third, release the safety.

 

Fourth, go and ring the doorbells of your "willing" contributors and when they answer, put the gun to their heads and demand all their money and credit cards. Oh, and don't forget to get the pin numbers for those handy-dandy credit cards.

 

It's a fast and easy plan!

 

You'll be off to Disneyland in no time! You and your family, especially little schnookums, will have the time of your lives. It's so refreshing to see parents like yourself who are so willing to make the necessary sacrifices to ensure that little schnookums can grow up to become the well-balanced, happy adult he deserves to be.

 

Okay, (yawn) I'm tired of this problem.

 

Quirky Out.

 

B.S. (that's blog for P.S.) Any questions you need answering? Send them to quirkydearest@gmail.com. You just might be the lucky sucker one who gets their question answered in the future. You should be so lucky! Ha!