Stage Mom?

I have a confession.

And "they" say that confession is good for the soul.

I can be... I can be... how shall I coin this? A wee bit obnoxious, at times.

(collective gasps and choruses of "Oh no Quirky! Not you!")

Ahem.

On my Facebook home page, I wrote something like this:

"I'm not afraid to make a fool out of myself..."

I made that statement come true this last weekend.

Ahem.

Is it getting hot in here?

So Quirky Son#1 had a rock concert! Yee-haw! (Not hee haw.)

It. Was. A. Blast.

He wore a Slash type of wig and his Eddie Van Halen tennis shoes. He was ready to rock and rock it he did.

We sat in the audience of about 125 people watching 23 musicians (split into six different bands) do their "thang."

I was so proud of my son! He was showcased on Blink 182's song, All The Small Things and on Blur's, Song 2.

His band name? The Killer Donuts. His band consisted of Quirky Son #1 on the electric guitar, another boy on the electric guitar, a girl (You rock!) on the bass guitar and a girl (You drum girl!) on the drums. Some of the other bands had five or even six guitarists.

So I was especially proud that my boy's band could hold their own with only three guitarists in total.

I absolutely, positively loved it.

As a rocker-Mama would.

At the very end of the concert, his guitar teacher and her husband, who also teaches guitar and drums, had all the musicians come on stage and they were going to award two fifty dollar cash awards to the two musicians who garnered the most applause.

Anyhoo, when she held her hand over Quirky Son#1's head to cue his applause, guess who screamed like a banshee for a solid 30 seconds?

Yes, that would be his obnoxious wannabe stage mother...Me!

(Insert cheesy smile here.)

I had to scream like a banshee two more times as she whittled the musicians down to the final two.

Funny, I didn't hear any other parents screaming like that.

Hmm.

Guess what?

It worked.

My son was one of the two fifty dollar winners!

That's almost worthy of a hee haw!

In addition, I, yours truly, got not one or two, but three bonafide dirty looks from a Gramps who was sitting to my left during my slightly excited screams for my boy.

(Insert cheesy obnoxious smile here.)

Did I mention we recorded the event?

We've been rewatching the concert and all we can do is bowl over in laughter when it gets to my screams.

It was worth it.

So Gramps?

A big Pfft to you!

And...when the concert was over, two tween girls came up to me and asked, "Was that you who was screaming?"

Q: (looking quite innocent) Oh, no.

Yes, I'm ready.

Move over Dina Lohan.

You ain't seen nuttin' yet!

A Stage Mom Is Born!


B.S. No Grampas were harmed in the production of this post. I think.

Hee Haw

Have you noticed how many soprano hee hees Michael Jackson sang in his music?

Although, I am mostly a classic rocker-Mama, I've been known to go rogue occasionally and listen to other genres of music, including dance music (except country...sorry I cannot, I just canNOT).

Michael Jackson was having his "hey day" when I was in my hey day, my 20's. Yes, I was one of the privileged millions to experience the coolness of Michael Jackson when it actually happened.

Color me cool.

Of course with his not so recent death, they have been replaying much of his music on the radio. At least they have in this neck of the desert fauna.

As I've been watching my son write and sing some of his own music, I've been paying more attention to hooks, choruses, and melodies.

I've also been paying much closer attention to how other songs are assembled, which brings me to my huge musing of the moment.

In Michael Jackson's song, Wanna Be Startin' Something at point 00:03:40, the music stops for just a nanosecond and during that nanosecond is a...

	- - thisisfil.com/80s Cheese/Michael Jackson - Wanna Be Starting Something.mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

HEE HAW!

Hee haw? And it's not in the traditional Michael Jackson soprano key either.

Now I have grown accustomed to MJ's high-pitched hee hees which he likes to liberally litter in his dance songs.

I don't have a problem with that.

But a hee haw?

That is just wrong.

So wrong.

Hee Haw. Wasn't that the name of that countrified, sexed-up variety show. Remember?

Yes, I'm truly dating myself now.

Actually, I remember very little of the Hee Haw Show and other shows like it i.e., Laugh In.

Regardless, I personally and strongly believe that hee haws belong only in a country song, Broadway musical, or in a show like Hee Haw.

But in a dance song?

Come on!

I have one question for Mr. Quincy Jones, who of course, co-produced the Thriller album on which the song Wanna Be Startin' Something is recorded. (I would ask Mr. Michael Jackson, but he is busy with his Thriller Zombies, learning more about... the undead.)

What was your inspiration to insert a solitary hee haw at 00:03:40 of the song?

I really want to know.

It strikes me as odd (even for Michael Jackson).

And it's bothering me.

I guess you could say that all there is left to ask is...

What the hee haw were you thinking?



B.S. No donkeys were harmed in the production of this post. I think. Hee haw!

Decisions, Decisions!

I have had the most fun reading some funny zombie poems that made me laugh out loud a lot.

Catlady Larew at How To Become A Cat Lady Without The Cats wrote this little gem, it is sung to the tune of London Bridges Falling Down:

Quirky's head is full of brainz,
Full of brainz,
Full of brainz.
Quirky's head is full of brainz,
Quirkster Zombie

And then she included another zombie limerick about my zombie, erm, I mean Quirky Sons whom referred to as "zomblets." *chuckle*

There once was a Zombie named Quirky
Who subsisted on strips of loon jerky
She ate bloggers' brainz
Diet Pepper and cranes
So her Zomblets turned out awfully perky.

Reffie at Confessions of a Reforming Geek did not disappoint with her zombie poem effort.

Roses are red, violets are blue (great start, huh?)
The undead of the night are wanting for you.

Creatures known as zombies with bodies craving
Without a spirit to guide them, they are certainly misbehaving.

Count your fingers, count your toes.
Oh Dearz, have they taken your nose?

Where's little Johnny and his pet sheep Dan
Oopz! It looks like Johnny's in the frying pan.

I couldn't stop laughing at this line: Oh Dearz, have they taken your nose? I still say Michael Jackson inspired her on that one line.

Then Marvin at The Old Silly put on his limerick jeans and wrote this fun, fun, funny zombie limerick.

A Zombie once wanted a Quombie.
He’d die in his coffin one to get.
He puzzled his head,
Though he was mostly brain dead,
and penned this pathetic poem wannabe.

MikeWJ at Too Many Mornings blog waxed quite poetic with his "adaptation of the classic Dylan Thomas poem, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night." Click here to read the original poem by Dylan Thomas and then click here to read MikeWJ's zombified version.

Wow.

He also wrote this:

This Zombie adaptation of the classic Dylan Thomas poem, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, is dedicated to the fabulous Quirkyloon, who loves Zombie lore and has a horribly misshapen head, but is very funny nonetheless and has become a daily must-read for me and many, many others.

Thanks for reminding me that I have a "horribly misshapen head." Really, thanks. I think that is why I can relate so well to zombies, and why they relate so well to me. Since my head is already well on its way to resembling a zombie head, they think I'm already one of them! *smile*

My good, ole rocker blogger buddy Noname Nonamedufus also put on his limerick jeans (hopefully, not the same pair as Marvin's!) and produced a zombie limerick too.

A Zombie Poem

Around each dark street corner she lurks
Sipping Diet Pepper, munching gherks
She's slightly insanze
Looking for brainz
Our rocknroll, zombified Quirks

Ah, Diet Dr. Pepper, nice touch. I loved the entire very humorous limerick, but a gherk? I'm no pickle lady! But definitely insanez. Definitely.

Now Mr. C.B. Jones at Mindful Drivel really cracked me up with his "original" poem.

Untitled, by Zom-B. Jones.

Brains...brains...BRAINS!
bbbbrrrrraaaaaiiiiiiinnnnnss...
brains, Malkovich, brains!
br-ains....nomnomnomnomnom!

I could not stop laughing at the simplicity of his poem. And then he threw in "Malkovich" and that kept me rolling on the floor for a long time!

(Insert mental image of Quirky rolling back and forth, back and forth in laughter.)

And because you all tried and I enjoyed reading each poem so very much. You ALL get a Quombie!

Behold!



Ooops! Wrong image. Let me try again.



Ah, that's better now, isn't it?

Remember it is only mine to give and I haven't given out that many. I'm quite stingy with it, so it is a unique decision to give out so many at once.

Probably because the zombies won't stop nibbling on my brainz, and I am losing it more and more each day.

But wait...I still have yet to announce the big winner.

This lucky winner shall receive:

Zombie Brain Candy and the PC Game Plants vs. Zombies.

And the winner is...

(drum roll)

MikeWJ at Too Many Mornings.

He bowled me over with his great and successful zombie poem effort. He zombified a great poem (not that there's anything wrong with that!).

Congratulations Mike!

And thanks to everyone who was willing to go along and have a little zombie fun with me.



B.S. Mike? Contact me at quirkyloon@gmail.com and I will get your prizes in the mail asap.

I Bak, Bak, Bak, Believe...

In being prepared.

Maybe, just maybe, a little too prepared.

I volunteered to make chicken salad for a baby shower.

"How many people have been invited?"

"About 25."

I should have asked did that include me and the shower planner. I should have asked small croissants or large croissants. I should've asked for a one-way ticket to the loony bin (you don't have to calculate anything in the bin, right?)!

Should've, could've, would've, if the zombies hadn't been nibbling on my brainz.

So of course, I ended up making enough chicken salad to feed about 120 people.

Before you give me a look of incredulity, I must be allowed to explain something.

When I make chicken salad, I cheat. Usually, I buy a single rotisserie chicken or just use one package of boneless chicken breast and boil it. We are only a family of four, so that is more than plenty for us.

I'm not used to food prep for the masses.

I was trying to figure out how much chicken to boil to make enough for 50 sandwiches. And I was going to buy whole chickens, because it is much cheaper that way.

"So if we use about a 1/2 cup on each croissant and what if people want to eat two sandwiches....so I'm lookin' at 50 sandwiches....six plus six equals twelve carry the one...divide that by the square root...multiply that by the area of a circle, convert that fraction to a decimal... then that must equal SIX whole chickens."

Yes, I boiled and deboned SIX whole chickens yesterday.

Actually, I had to entail the help of my husband.

Yes, I'm crazy.

Yes, it's not easy to be me.

Yes, I suck at math.

Those chickens were kicking my butt.

So I took my 20 pounds of chicken salad to the shower early, so I could assemble the sandwiches.

And there were only 30 croissants.

I'm thinking, "Where is the rest of the bread?"

I snuck a few furtive looks around the kitchen and it became apparent to me that this was it.

No more croissants.

I used about 1/16 of what I made and came home 18 3/4 pounds of chicken salad.

So would anybody like me to add a pound or two of chicken salad to the Zombie giveaway?

Anyone? Anyone?

Chickens!

*bak, bak, bak, bak, bak*
--------------------------------------

Okay, a couple of things:

First of all, yes, many chickens were killed, maimed, and tortured in the production of this post.

Second of all, tonight is the night. I will be rereading, pondering, laughing, and deciding on the lucky winner of the Quombie, Zombie Brainz Candy, AND....

Plants vs. Zombies PC game.

You know you want it.

Tomorrow results will be posted!

Yeehaw!

I'm Bumped!

Yes, I'm a sucker.

I took the bait: hook, line, and sinker.

Gah.

Did you know that most babies who are born flat-headed or cone-headed later develop a normal shaped head. Usually. The skull is soft and malleable. And the miraculous skull cells are programmed to "hut, two, three, four" get back into proper formation.

Aren't cells grand?

Nowadays, babies may be given a special football-type helmet to ensure a comely shape to their head.

But, I was a product of the 60's.

In the 60's, if a baby was born flat-headed and her skull cells were sleeper cells and they forgot to "hut, two, three, four" themselves back into a nice, round-shaped head?

Then you went through life with a flat-head.

That would be me.

I've often thought if I were to get cosmetic surgery, forget the face-lifts, nose jobs, or bodacious boob jobs, I want a scalp implant.

It would go on the back and sides of my skull.

Oh, looking at me front view, you wouldn't suspect a thing. Well, you might notice the glazed over look I always have or the slight spittle dripping from the right side of my mouth. But barring those things, you would think I basically look normal.

And then if I were to turn my head, you would probably gasp.

"Where's the rest of her head?"

Yes, I'm missing a good inch of nice, rounded skull to make my head shape look normal in the back of my head.

It's a pain in the head (Ha!) with hair dos.

Luckily, my hair has always been wavy or with a slight curl, so I've always been able to disguise my disfigurement with poofy hair back there.

But remember a little thing called the Big C? Yeah, you heard it already, no need to rehash that lovely eppy of my life. I only bring it up because after chemo and radiation therapy, guess who's hair changed?

Yep, that would be me.

It's much more straight than it used to be. And with that straightness my disfigurement is much more apparent.

Gah.

So you can imagine my delight when I saw the commercial for a new product, Bumpits. They are angled combs that go underneath your hair and rest next to your scalp to poof it up. You can place it wherever you feel like your hair needs poofing.

My eyes widened with delight when I watched the testimonials and the great results.

Off to Walgreens I went.

I purchased me a Bumpit and was ever so excited to use it. Why looky there, they even included a "teasing" comb to help comb your hair over the Bumpit comb, so it can remain hidden.

With quivering anticipation, I took out the precious Bumpit and looked at it with a gleam of hope in my eye.

I carefully lifted it out of the box. I beheld the wonder of its creation. I saw the future so clear, so beautiful, with big poofy hair! No more flat-head days!

Yes!

I used the comb to separate a portion of my hair where I wanted to place the Bumpit. All was going well until... until...

The darn thing didn't work.

Criminy!

It quickly became apparent to me why it wasn't working.

It's made for people with normal-shaped, nicely rounded heads back there!

There was no grip, because it couldn't make contact where scalp should have been, but was not and is not.

Double gah.

They should not have made it so stiff and maybe used a material that would have some give.

But until they do?

I'm bumped.


B.S. A Bumpit was harmed in the production of this post. I know.

And They Said It...

Would never happen.

Quirky yells at the top of her lungs: Surprise!

Guess what?

I.

Am.

Having.

A.

Giveaway!

"It's a miracle!"

As I mentioned in this post. I am addicted to the game Plants Vs. Zombies.



It is a hilarious game and such a hoot to play (and waste time).

To celebrate the upcoming Zombieland movie (opens October 2nd at a theater near you!), and my 363rd post (of course, it's a random number, it's a quirky post celebration, forget even numbers!) I am prepared to give one extremely lucky person the following;

• The official PopCap Game Plants Vs. Zombies PC game.


• Zombie brain candy (to sweeten the deal and yes, you did read that correctly)
.

• AND a Quombie.

For those of you who are "newer" to this blog, the Quombie is the most coveted award available on the blogosphere. It speaks to your inner zombie and gives you peace of brainz, erm, I mean mind. It is MINE and only MINE to give. (Don't want any of youse following MY previous example of when I took and gave away the WRONG award. Ahem.)

Anyhoo, I have already purchased the products and they are ready to be mailed to you from me, IF (you knew that was coming, didn't you?) you are the commenter who does just ONE thing.

Write me the BEST zombie poem.

All I ask is that you post it at YOUR blog and link it to me. (I'm getting greedy, aren't I? Is that wrong?)

Of course it has to be about zombies. That's a no-brainer (punz intended).

And I'm not going to drag this out like some giveaways (not that there's anything wrong with that).

On this Monday, September 28th, I will announce the winner! So you have today (that would be Friday) and all day Saturday and Sunday up til 6 p.m. MST. Cuz I need time to pick a winner, and write up a post about it, k?

That's plenty of time for zombies to hit you hard in the brainz.

Off ye go!

Let the zombies be your inspiration!

And you can thank me for providing you with some blog fodder... later.

And...remember....

A brainz is a terrible thing to waste.

Brainz!

B.S. No I am not receiving any revenue for this free publicity. I am a zombie philanthropist at heart, therefore I freely give and support the Zombies. Brainz!

B.S.S. Oh, in case you were wondering, no zombies were harmed in the production of this post. I think.

Google Goddess!

By golly if Google writes it, it MUST be true!

First, I must back peddle.

Sweet, sweet Collette at the Babushka blog gave me the "Your Blog is Fabulous!" Award.

Thank-you so much m'dear Collette and a big smooch to you for thinking my blog is fabulous. I like to think so too. Yes, modesty is one of my best qualities.

And now?

Behold!

Mighty impressive, eh?

I think so.

Unfortunately, this award did come with five teensy weensy rules.

(Collective moan.)

Such haters!

Anyhoo, I don't mind rules. I'm supposed to list five obsessions and then pass it on to five blogger Dudes or Dudettes.

While perusing my Quirky brain for five obssessions, my synapses were, once again, not firing on all cylinders. So I took a break and checked out my Gmail: Google mail.

Ay, yi, yi.

The synapses began firing before I knew it!

Every once in a while I like to check out my spam. It's a bi-monthly pleasure. And this perusal did not disappoint.

Hence, I'm twisting the rules a wee bit and giving you my five favorite gmail spams from this last week.

And to twist it a little further? I added a sixth!

You know me.

I'm an outside-of-the-box kinda gal.

You may have to click on the image to read it more clearly, but just in case (no, NOT that annoying commercial tv guy, "Hi my name is Justin Case." Gah!), it doesn't work or... you are simply too lazy to click it, I've decided to spell it out for ye.

1. Black Singles: Find Black Singles near you.
   Quirky Thought: I've always thought black guys were hot! How did they know?


2. True Latin: View photos of Latin Singles in your area.
   Quirky Thought: I've always thought Latin guys were hot! How did they know?


3. Military.com: You served America now it is time to return the favor.
   Quirky Thought: I don't remember serving in the Military, but by golly if Google says it, it MUST be true!


4. iWon: Play Bejeweled 2 - compete for prizes.
   Quirky Thought: Bejeweled? Blech. (Yes, I'm still bitter.)


5. Language Learning: How CIA operatives survive overseas.
   Quirky Thought: Unbelievable! Google must be a God: all knowing. I've always wanted to know this! Note to self: Google CIA blogs.


6. Indian Dating: Find the right person for you.
   Quirky Thought: I've always thought Indian guys were hot! How did they know?

Hence, I've come to a very important conclusion, one that affects ALL of us.

Google is the new God.

And She has a new Bible.

www.google.com.

Now?

Let us pray, erm, I mean blog.

Amen!

Oh, and don't think I've forgotten.

"Forgot what Quirky?"

Oh, ye haters of little, little faith.

Here are the luckiest recipients of this "fabulous" award!

1. Reffie at Confessions of Reforming Geek (her blog? Fab!)


2. Kirsten at The Soccer Mom Files (her blog? Fab!)


3. My fellow rocker, Noname at Nonamedufus (his blog? Fab!)


4. Sass at Are You Sassified? (her blog? Fab!)


5. And last but not least, I would like to give this award to The Beloved Google at Google (the blog? It's so fabulous it's heavenly!)

B.S. No spam was harmed in the production of this post. I think. And..."tomorrow, tomorrow, there's always tomorrow, it's only a day away!" The surprise comes tomorrow! Yee haw!

Stinky Feet?

A blast of heat whooshed in from behind us as we opened the door to the guitar teacher's house. (She has an open door policy.) We took our normal seats on the couch in her small living room. Ms. Guitar Teacher walks into the room.

Guitar Teacher: Oh hello. Go ahead and tune up Quirky Son #1. I'll be right there.

A white fur ball streaked by.

Q: What was that?

Quirky Son #2: Wow, Mom did you see that? A cat!

Q: Oh, yeah, it's... a cat.

We can hear Quirky Son #1 in the other room tuning up his guitar. He strums as he searches for the right tone: CCCCC, DDDDD, EEEEE.

Guitar Teacher: Yes, we got a cat.

Quirky Son #2: What's his name?

Q: Is it a he?

Guitar Teacher: Yes, he's a he. And we haven't named him yet.

One week later. The white fur ball now has longer legs and a black mark between his eyes.

Quirky Son #2: Look at the kitty!

Guitar Teacher: Yeah, he's growing fast!

Quirky Son #2: What's his name?

Guitar Teacher: Stinky Pete.

Quirky Son #2: Stinky Pete?!

Quirky chuckles and the Guitar Teacher smiles and disappears with Quirky Son #1 into the next room to teach him his guitar lesson. Quirky Son #2 and I sit down on the couch.

Quirky Son #2: I like cats, Mom.

Q: Oh, you do?

Quirky Son #2: Can we get a cat?

Q: Mmm, no.

Quirky Son #2: Why not?

Q: Our dogs would probably eat the cat.

Quirky Son #2 looks puzzled, but says nothing. The wheels are definitely turning aka information processing in his five-year-old brain. Information in, garbage out!

One week later (yes, the guitar lessons are weekly) We arrive with another heat wave on our backs into the Guitar Teacher's house. She gives us her normal smile as she greets us. She and Quirky Son #1 disappear into the next room for lesson time.

Quirky Son #2: Where's Stinky Feet?

Q: (laughing) Wha?

Quirky Son #2: The cat...Stinky Feet.

Q: (still laughing) Um, no Sweetie, it's Stinky PETE, not feet.

Quirky Son #2: Ohhh... not Stinky Feet?

Q: (still laughing even harder) Nooooo... not Stinky Feet.

Quirky Son #2: (watching his Mother giggling hysterically) That was funny, huh, Mom? I called the cat Stinky Feet.

Q: Yes, it was funny. Real funny.

Quirky Son #2: Oh.... But Mom, can I take off my shoes? My feet are hot.

Q: No, this isn't our house and your feet can't be that hot. You have flip-flops on!

In his usual manner, Quirky Son #2 removes his flip-flops, completely disregarding what his Mother said.

(Insert strained smile.)

Q: Excuse me? Didn't I just tell you.... Oh my goodness, what is that smell?

Quirky Son #2 (smiling): My feet!

Q: Gag! They stink!

Quirky Son #2: Like the cat?

Q: Yes, no, erm, yes. Exactly like the cat.

Quirky Son#2: Stinky Feet?

Q: Definitely.

Eeek.


B.S. No feet were harmed during the production of this post. I think. Are you excited yet? It's coming... the surprise.... Bwahahahahahahaha!

Cats Are Haters

I have a new addiction.


Gah!

I can't stop playing the darn game! I play it... All. The. Time!

Just ask my family.

But recently, while I was on a break from the game, I happened to catch a few minutes of the movie, Aliens.

You know the one with the little girl named Newt.

Cool name.

If only, I had had a girl.

If only.

Lucky for her, I didn't.

I digress.

So I'm watching Aliens and I'm watching the scene where Lt. Gorman is sent off alone to look for Jonesy the cat.

Ay, yi, yi.

First of all, why are they spending this much energy looking for a CAT? Their lives are in danger.

Forget. The. Cat.

Second of all, don't these people know anything? You NEVER go alone, especially if you suspect Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers, the Grim Reaper guy from Scream or the Queen Alien might be hanging around.

Hello?

Yeesh.

So Lt. Gorman while looking around for the cat, starts calling undue attention to himself.

"Here Jonesy."

(He looks around as if to ask: Did I just hear something?)

"Jonesy?"

Aw, come on Gorman. Give us a break. Actually, it's the darn cat who I'm mad at.

That darn cat.

(Disgustingly) Jonesy!!

Of course, he doesn't find Jonesy, but he does find something else. The Queen Alien.

Surprise, surprise!

The Alien slowly shows him not one, but two lovely sets of finely, chiseled chompers and then the camera pans to....

Ta da!

JONESY!

He watches in silence as Lt. Gorman is tortured and killed by the Queen Alien.

That darn cat.

He's a hater.

But on the upside?

We learn a very important fact.

Apparently, Aliens don't eat cats.

(Note to self: Alert the Zombies! On the other hand maybe not. Perhaps we could make them some cat jerky? Yes, that will give them something to chew on for in-between mealtimes. Hmm.)

I've heard their meat is too tough.

Not that I would know.

I just heard.

Ahem.

*meow*


B.S. No cats were harmed in the production of this blog post. I think. And I'm going to have a surprise for my readers...coming soon!

AAF

AAF - Acronyms Are Funny

Have you ever noticed? There is a lot of humor to be found in acronyms. I was reminded of this just the other day while grocery shopping.

There was another shopper there wearing a tee shirt that read:

PETA
People Eating Tasty Animals

Ha!

I chuckled.

But then again, it doesn't take much to make me chuckle.

So I made up found some other hilarious acronyms.

Read and get ready to laugh.

Ahem.

I said, "Get ready to laugh!"

That's better.

AMC

• Original: American Multi-Cinema: the company pioneered multi-screen cinemas.
  
• Humorous: American Meat Club. You have to contribute at least one side of beef or twenty thousand McDonald's Quarter Pounders (whichever is less) to be considered for membership.

BBC

• Original: British Broadcasting Corporation, originally British Broadcasting Company.
  
• Humorous: Barbie Bulimia Club. The place where "Barbie" women meet together to discuss ways NOT to eat.

DKNY

• Original: Donna Karan New York
  
• Humorous: Donkey Kong Needs You. A group offering emotional and mental support for Donkey Kong game addicts.

GEICO

• Original: Government Employees Insurance Company.
  
• Humorous: Got Enough Idiots Crew. If you're looking for an idiot for work or at home, this is the group that can help you find any idiot for the cheapest price around.

HP

• Original: Bill Hewlett and Dave Packard tossed a coin to decide whether the company they founded would be called Hewlett-Packard or Packard-Hewlett.
  
• Humorous: Hungry Pygmies. This special group needs our help. They have been unable to hunt for themselves because all their prey looms over them. Send any gently used high-heeled boots or sandals to this foundation.

IKEA

• Original: a composite of the first letters in the Swedish founder Ingvar Kamprad's name in addition to the first letters of the names of the property and the village in which he grew up: Ingvar Kamprad Elmtaryd Agunnaryd.
  
• Humorous: I Kick Eggheads Advocate. Doing poorly in school? Feeling jealous beyond control? Join us in kicking eggheads. It is most delightful.

MVC

• Original: from Music and Video Club, the name of a UK-based entertainment chain.
  
• Humorous: Moonlight Vampire Corps. Yet another fan group of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Series and in particular her new upcoming movie: New Moon.

QVC

• Original: Quality, Value and Convenience
  
• Humorous: Quirky Vaccine Collaborative. This anti-Quirkloon group has developed a vaccine against becoming quirky like Quirkyloon. The vaccine has been approved by the FDA and will soon become one of the required vaccines for all humans, ages 5 and older.

STX

• Original: pronounced as the word "sticks" because, when first founded, STX manufactured only lacrosse sticks
  
• Humorous: Secularly Transmitted Xenophiles. Foreign cultures are gaining acceptance by leaps and bounds. This group of people celebrates worldly differences among many diverse cultures.

WWE

• Original: World Wrestling Entertainment, formerly World Wrestling Federation (WWF). It changed its name after a court case brought by the World Wildlife Fund (WWF), which is now called the World Wide Fund for Nature.
  
• Humorous: Why Women Emote formerly Why Women Fester. These are questions a group of men are researching, studying, and pondering.

Yessireebob.

Acronyms be funny!

DYT?

(Don't you think?)



*source

I'm Cracked!

How did this happen?

I have received two more awards!

(Let's see how I mess THIS one up, eh?)

First of all, the dear Dizzie of Doggy Soggy Bloggy gave me her own award.

Note to self: this means you do NOT pass it on Quirky. Got it?

Looky, looky!


She says I'm "cracking" creativity.

I guess that is much better than:

Being a crack-head,
Getting a body bone cracked,
Or showing my crack!

Yeah, I think so.

I want to thank Dizzie for this award. She's a woof, I mean a hoot! Very funny lady, tells it like it is (or not). I like her. Thank-you so much Dizzie!

My second award is one I have been vying for, for months. Another captioning award.

I finally cracked (there's that word again) The Soccer Mom Files captioning contest.

And wouldn't you know it my winning entry was... a one and a half verse song parody. Not like I've ever attempted a song parody before, right?

Anyhoo, I am most proud to be the recipient of The Soccer Mom Files Kirsten's "Mom Likes Me Best Award!"



If you'd like to take a gander at the picture and winning caption, click here.

Some of the pictures that you bloggers (Noname, The Soccer Mom Kirsten, Ettarose, Da Old Man, and now TheOld Silly Marvin who has recently joined the captioning contest throngs.) come up with for captioning contests are hilarious.

But really, where do you all find these pictures?

They always "crack" me up. Honest.

Apparently, "crack" can do a body and mind good when it leads to:

Cracking up at pictures,
Cracking up at others (behind their backs, of course),
And cracking up at yourself on a regular basis.

What? Am I really the only person who cracks herself up?

Oh, this reminds me of something funny.

I had lunch and went to a movie with a girlfriend today. There was much gabbing and laughing. We both noted that the number of times to relieve our bladders has dramatically increased as we have aged. So, when we arrived at the movie theater, we both voiced our potential bladder concerns and the length of the movie.

Q's Friend: I don't know if I'll be able to last the whole movie.

Q: Yeah, me too.

Q's Friend: You know, the next time I come to a movie, I'm just wearing a Depends. I'm sick of this.

Q: (laughing loudly) Yeah!

Then my friend came up with a terrific idea.

Q's Friend: You know what they should make? A Depends thong.

Q: (eyes widening and laughing more) Yeah! I can see it!

I, of course, "helped" her advance the concept.

Q: Think of it, the top backside two inches could be sexy and sassy and then it would flare out into a nice thick absorbent pad...down, down, around, and up to the front.

I'm thinking this could our ticket to riches. It could work.

No?

Are we crazy?

Just me?

Of course.

I'm a nut. A loonatic. I'm cracked.

But (pun intended) let me tell you: I'm still working this Depends thong idea in my head.

Thinking, thinking, thinking!

Let's hope what little good sense left in my brain doesn't ooze out of the cracks.

Ha!

See? Being cracked up IS all that it's cracked up to be.

Take it from a crackhead.

Me!

Too Late To 'Pologize!

Click on the green play button and then sing along if you must.

	- - timbaland its too late to apologize
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

I'm writin' of your blog,
Dig me ten feet in the ground.
I'm readin what you wrote,
But I just can't make a sound.
You tell me that you gave me,
An award but I got it wrong, but wait,
I'm tellin you I'm sorry,
Didn't think you'd turn around, and say...

It's too late to apologize, it's too late.
You said it's too late to apologize, it's too late.

Please take another chance, give me one,
More award or two.
And I need me some awards, need to be,
Praised and 'mired too, yeah, yeah.

You tagged me with a "greener badge."
Now I'm blogging blue, and I say...
"Sorry" like the blogger,
Hades let you think was me.
But I'm afraid...

It's too late to apologize, it's too late.
You said it's too late to apologize, it's too late, whoa, whoa.

[Bridge (guitar/piano)]

It's too late to apologize, it's too late.
You said it's too late to apologize, it's too late.

It's too late to apologize, yeah.
You said it's too late to apologize, yeah.

I'm writin' of your blog,
Dig me ten feet in the ground....

I owe Reffie, Ettarose and all my wonderful (and forgiving?) readers a huge, huge apology!

By golly, I made a whole lot of Quirky mistakes!

Eeek!

I took the wrong award.

Yes, my greedy fingers and greedy mouse clicked Save Picture As and then I went on an Art Critique roller coaster ride.

My bad.

The Green Badge Award was an Ettarose original that only SHE can give out. It's not forwarded on by the recipient. Kind of like my Quombie. Gulp. So bear with me as I show you my REAL award from the sizzling, hot "bag lady" Reffie.

Behold!


So dearest Mamaface, Deb, and Marvin...please delete the green Ettarose original and kindly accept the Bloggy Love Bear award instead. Please feel free to give the Bloggy Love Bear award to three of your blogging buddies that you love, lust, or adore.

*blushing furiously*

Only one as Quirky as I could fail so completely.

Synaptical Fail.

And then my Friday post was supposed to post at my regular 3:00 AM designated time and when I set and saved my posting options...I forgot to change the time, so it was going to post in the afternoon instead of the morning for your reading pleasure. (It is a pleasure isn't it? Anyone? Anyone?)

Gah.

Another Synaptical Fail.

What's a Quirkyloon to do?

Is it really too late to 'pologize?


B.S. I'm sorry!

Don't Worry, Be Funny!

Do you ever have those days, weeks, months, or years where you feel like your comments at other blogs are funnier than your own posts?

I do.

All the time.

So, I decided to collect some of my comments from this last week and give you the Quirky funny comments.

Why? Cause, I am a hoot.

Let's get started shall we?

So Ms. Joanne at Joanne Moving Forward blog was writing about a bicycle she is lusting for. I guess "things" do change after a certain age. Forget men, jewelry, and cars. It's all about bicycles with a basket and possibly a bell. Sounds very girly-schmirly. And quite quaint. Not that there's anything wrong with that! But you know me...I have to add a dash of quirk to...EVERYTHING!

Quirky's Comment:

That's a great bike!

I've always wanted a recumbent (sp?) bike so I could sit back and sip on a Diet Dr Pepper while riding. I guess a basket would come in handy too.

Where's the wishlist blog? hee hee

Are you laughing?

No?

Okay, let's try this one.

The lovely Ms. Sass at The Life of Sass thought she was giving up the blogging-ghost.

Thank goodness she had a change of heart.

Now some of you may remember Sass, because she regularly kicks my Quirky butt at Bejeweled Blitz.

I was worried when I read that she was quitting blogging, because that meant she would have far too much time on her hands and she would probably be playing Bejeweled Blitz...ALL. THE. TIME.

That would NOT be a good thing.

Imagine my joy and elation to read that she's back! Whew! Hence my quirky comment:

If this will keep you busy enough to stay away from Bejeweled Blitz, then I say...

WELCOME BACK BABY!

hee hee

Yeah?

Oh come on! I heard a little chuckle. Was that you Marvin?

Okay, I sure hope I don't bomb this next one, cuz it's a wee bit complicated. Mr. VE at VE's Fantastical Nonsense blog informed us of a still yet unclaimed vanity plate name: yodellingoompaloompa.

I happen to be a huge fan of the Oompah Loompahs, so this one made me smile... a lot. So the next day when VE posted about fortune cookie realities, I was oompahed, erm, I mean inspired in my comment.

"What do you get when you guzzle down sweets?
Eating as much as an elephant eats
What are you at, getting terribly fat
What do you think will come of that
I don't like the look of it"

"You'll get no, you'll get no, you'll get no fortune cookies!"

Sorry, I'm still in oompa loompa mode.

Haha hee hee ho ho?

Still not laughing?

Gah.

You are a tough audience.

Lemme try again.

Mr. MikeWJ at Too Many Mornings is doing an amazing week of Jeopardy like contests at his blog. He calls it Mikeardy. He has obviously put a lot of time and thought into the "answers." His commenters are supposed to provide hopefully funny "questions."

Of course I had to try!

Mikeardy ANSWER: 2. Twisted Sister. Way better than Cinderella. Or even Ratt, KISS and Whitesnake.

Quirkyloon's Question: What band did the late Bret Michaels, who recently died from the clap, perform in as lead singer?

(You didn’t say the info had to be correct. *grin* I know, I know Michaels was from the band Poison.)

Mikeardy ANSWER: 6. K.C. and the Sunshine Band. Get down tonight!

Quirkyloon's Question: What is the official mating song of zombies?

Mikeardy ANSWER: 10. I Am Woman. Helen Reddy was way ahead of her time, especially for a Canadian.

Quirkyloon's Question: Who was the hermaphrodite Lada Gaga’s early musical influence?

Mikeardy ANSWER: 14. You Light Up My Life. I wonder what Debbie’s up to these days, anyway?

Quirkyloon's Question: Name the theme song from the movie, “Firestarter.”

Did you find the funny in my questions?

Just a little, eh?

Yeesh.

Okay. This one will get the cockles of your humor arteries flowing. It WILL make you SNORT.

Lo and behold, Ms. Pyzahn at Prattle from the Flatlands had a "glitter your photo" contest. There were quite a few good entries. But the one that got my attention (and horror)? Was the photo from Ms. Vegetable Assassin!

Take a gander (and a snort).



Glitter Graphics


I was writeless! (Writeless = speechless.) This was my Quirky comment.

Wow.

The Big Babes glittery one.

Wow.

Strange for some reason, I feel like exercising.

Excuse.

hee hee

Now if my funny comments didn't make you laugh, that picture had to have made you laugh...and snort.

If it didn't?

Then there is no "funny" hope for you!

And that would be so sad!

*snicker*

Excuse me.

I always find the "funny" in things, people, and the whole wide world. You should too! Take it from a loon who is a wee bit on the quirky side.

Don't worry, be funny!

It's All About Me

I've been given the above award!

My BBFF Reffie at Confessions of a Reforming Geek gave it to me (and it's a good thing too, cuz if she hadn't? I was gonna sic Zombieloon on her).

Just kidding.

Maybe.

It's such an interesting looking award.

Quirkyloon tilts her head to the right and begins to stare at the award.

And...

I think it might be time. Time for a Quirky Art Critique.

Dun, dun, dun.

(Thank goodness for ehow.com!)

Step One
What kind of work is it? A blog award.
Who is the artist? As far as I'm concerned Reffie.
What is the title? "I Am An Awesome Blogger Friend"
What materials/tools did the artist use? Probably Photoshop.
Where and when was this work produced? Don't know and don't care.
Place the work in historical context by considering what major events occurred in this period. This blog award came to my attention right after Kanye West stole Taylor Swift's winning MTV Award moment (a major GAH moment).

Step Two
Assess the artist's craftsmanship and technique. Very well done.
Are the materials, colors, and textures appropriate to the aesthetic design? Yes, yes, and no.
Does the overall design appear harmonious or discordant? Let me look again. (five minutes later) Definitely harmonious.

Step Three
Express what the work means to you and how it makes you feel. The picture itself is quite calming. Not too busy or cutesy. And at the risk of sounding rude it's very plain. But plain does not always equate to bad.
What is the concept? To bestow an award to a fellow blogger.
What is the artist trying to express? The blogger is expressing that they like you. They really, really like you.
What sort of reaction does it rouse in you? Awwwwww!

Step Four
Decide if you think the work is a success or failure. Definitely, a success (at least for my ego).
Is it original? Yes.
Does it have value? If so, why? Yes, because my BBFF gave it to me! So that makes it very special to me!
Does it bring beauty to the world? No. (sorry!)
Does it convey a poignant universal truth or scalding social commentary?

(Quirky steps up on her soap-box.)

It conveys a scalding social commentary. How? Not everybody will like you. Even here in the blogosphere. Even I, have ticked some people off. Hard to believe I know.

Some people will hate you. Some will wish the most evile things upon you. Some will call you names, trash your reputation, gossip about how you look and talk. Some people will want to bite you and change you into a zombie. It's very sad, but true!

We can all be kind, polite, and respectful, but that does not guarantee a friendship, an acquaintanceship, or even (gasp) a blog follower!

I think Michael Jackson sang it best:

We are the world,
We are the bloggers
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So lets start blogging

There's a post were writing
We're blogging our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day
Just you and me

We are the world......

Wow.

I sure got a lot out of that award, didn't I?

Let's see if YOU will too.

Ahem.

I would like to pass this award to some of my good blogging buddies.

Number 1: Reffie at... ooops. Never mind.

Let me try again.

1. Deb at Debbie Does Drivel
2. MamaFace at Blog Ignoramus

And last, but not least:

3. Marvin at The Old Silly's blog.

These are three very dear blogging friends to me. Very supportive and kind, but most of all?

They like me!

They really, really like me!

And it is all about me.

Right?

*crickets*

School Days, School Days!

Dear old golden rule days.
'Readin' and 'ritin' and 'rithmetic,
Taught to the tune of a hick'ry stick.

Yessireebob.

Quirky went to school last night. I did! I did!

Take a look at my notes.

6:00 p.m. - 6:53 p.m. General Assembly. *yawn* Tax override Tax schmoverride! Yeah, yeah, yeah, you want our money so you can blah, blah, blah hire more teachers, reduce class sizes, provide better material. Uh oh, did my tummy just rumble?

6:57 p.m. - 7:05 p.m. Reading Block. Everyday they make my kid and every other kid just read for twenty minutes. This is also the time they give school announcements. Hmm. I would have loved this when I was in junior high. Criminy! I forgot to take a mental check of where the loo is!

7:09 p.m. - 7:17 p.m. Reading. Again? Now that looks like a cool book! She says the kids actually like it! That' a big yow and a big zer in my book (pun intended).

Q: "Teacher is there a website where we can access supplementary reading exercises for our kids?"

Teacher: "Umm, I don't know."

Hmm. A Reading teacher that doesn't have a clue. Nice. Uh oh! Drat and all that! That was definitely a rumble. I could be in real trouble here.

7:21 p.m. - 7:29 p.m. English! Whoo-hoo! Finally, a subject I can relate to. *cough, cough* Oh noz! He is wearing *cough, cough* a lot of cologne! Sinuses swelling up...*cough, cough*. Is he noticing how much I'm coughing?

English Teacher: "I like to personally oversee their writing process."

Um yeah *cough, cough* that's good. I probably should audit his class for some writing refreshers. *cough, cough*

When will the bell RING?

*cough, cough*

(annoying BUZZ)

Thank goodness the bell rang!

7:33 p.m. - 7:41 p.m. *heavy breathing, huff and puff, huff and puff* Must. Get. To. Portable. Stairs. More stairs. Walk faster, faster, FASTER! Al--most there! I can see the outline of the building! I'm almost there! *huff and puff, huff and puff*

Whew! Social Studies! I wasn't sure I was going to make it. The teacher is laughing. And smiling? What the?

Hold the text messaging phone! He laughed at a joke!

Social Studies Teacher: "I coach football in the afternoons, so unfortunately I'm not available."

Dim-witted parent (not me): "What about evenings?"

Social Studies Teacher: "Sir, I see my wife every night from 9:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. and from 7:00 a.m. to 7:30 a.m. in the mornings. That's all the 'extra' time I have."

Dim-witted parent (not me): "How long have you been married?"

Social Studies Teacher: "37 years."

Not-so dim-witted parent (not me): "That explains the success of your marriage!"

Huge round of laughter.

A Social Studies teacher with a real sense of humor? I didn't see that one coming. Yeesh.

7:45 p.m. - 7:53 p.m. "She blinded me with science!" Well, not really. For somebody who proclaimed as much as she did how she absolutely adores 7th graders, I didn't get her vibe, at all. She seemed... boring? Is that mean?

Ah, but she has a box of Kleenex. I can blot. All that sweat. Well, at least that helped distract me from the rumbles! Oh no! Why did I think that? It started rumbling...even louder!

7:57 p.m. - 8:05 p.m. The Gym! I already have a soft spot for this place. I remember seeing my son and 300 other junior-high schoolers jumping up and down as they "danced" to the music.

Gym Teacher: "We started with swimming, because it is too hot."

Q: (thinking) "No. Duh."

Gym Teacher: "Plus it teaches them how to shower. They don't want to shower at first. About right now they've finally gotten used to it a bit and aren't as nervous and shy as they were before. We're hoping they will learn to get over that and that showering and dressing in front of other boys won't be such a big deal to them anymore.

So P.E. is about learning to shower in front of others. Hmm. Here I thought it was about physical education. So glad I'm here at the Teacher-Parent Open House!

Gym Teacher: And now? I need all of you parents to give me 100 one-handed push-ups! NOW! HIT THE FLOOR!

Q: (thinking) I don't think so brutha.

8:09 p.m. - 8:17 p.m. (think Charlie Brown teacher) Mwa-mwa mwa mwa mwa. Mwa mwa mwaaaa. But she seemed really nice for a Math teacher.

Math Teacher: "Any questions?"

Q: (thinking) "What if the hokey pokey is what it's all about?"

At 8:17 p.m., the Principal spoke into the intercom, thanking us for coming to "school" to see what our children are doing and learning.

Principal: "School dismissed."

And here I thought I was just going to go in and out of each class room with a quick hello to each teacher.

Q: "Hi, I'm Quirky Son #1's Mom, nice to meet you. He's doing well? Oh, that's wonderful. Thanks! Yes, I appreciate knowing your school email. Thank-you, I'll email you, if there are any problems."

I figured the whole Teacher-Parent Open House would take thirty minutes... tops! I never did find my way to the loo either. Why? Because as I stepped down from the stairs to open a door, a sweet, little 7th grader viciously (at least that's how I perceived it) swung the door wide open slamming it into my foot and stubbing my big toe!

I actually yelped in pain. I couldn't help it. It hurt like the dickens!

All rumblings were forgotten as a new pain ensued.

I was so glad to get out of school for the day!

Yeesh.

What do they think I am? An interested and involved parent?

Ha!

Bravo? Lame-O!

Dear Bravo,

I want you to know how much I enjoy your Law&Order: Criminal Intent show marathons. This just last Sunday evening, I noticed you were running six episodes of the show.

Terrific!

But despite the fact that I only watched bits and pieces of the episodes, I was very concerned when I became aware of the fact that you were actually only showing four episodes and then, to my horror, rerunning them.

As I understand it, there are over 1 million episodes available of Law&Order: Criminal Intent.

Hence, is it really necessary to re-rerun a rerun episode on the very same day?

Although my concern is somewhat self-centered, I worry for you Bravo Channel. I want to see your continued success. I want to know that when I click on your channel it will be there, thriving with the high-definition digital images of mediocre great television.

I think, all too often, that your channel is overlooked compared to the TV Land Channel, Country Music Channel (CMT), or ION Channel. How on earth did these channels come into being? It confounds even the most sensible of souls. Take note Bravo, you need to step it up a bit. Just a wee bit.

So, I'm struggling for a kinder way to put this, but am unable to find the right words, so forgive my directness.

Stop being lame(o) rerunning rerun episodes of Law&Order on the same day.

It's a drastic measure, I know.

In this day and age when cable channels are competing for more ratings, why not take a walk on the wild side and show six different episodes. Yes, I advocate taking the road less travelled.

Please Bravo, go rogue and spice things up a bit.

I can't help but think that it will end up being a win-win situation. For you, the potential ad revenues; and for the viewer, more criminal viewing pleasure.

Between the Law&Order series and Kathy Griffin's, "My Life on the D-List," I shall forever remain your faithful viewer.

Let's keep it that way.

Sincerely,

Quirkyloon

The Sleep Zone

On Saturday, while reading my five-hundred thousandth post for the day, I read the following two quotes at Marvin aka The Old Silly's blog.

"Good for the body is the work of the body, and good for the soul is the work of the soul, and good for either is the work of the other."
Henry David Thoreau

"If you don't like how things are, change it! You're not a tree."
Jim Rohn

Then on the next day, Sunday, after an unexpected three hour nap, I'm at Stacy's blog at Stacy's Random Thoughts. And lo and behold I see the same exact two quotes (amongst some other "good" quotes)!

Dun, dun, dun!

And now I say...

Blah, blah, blah!

(No offense to Marvin or Stacy. *smile*)

But, I'm here to provide some important support and encouragement.

I'm here to advocate the life of the sleepy, snoozy, and sluggish!

Yay for sleepy heads!

Yay for snoring snoozers!

Yay for sluggish slackers!

Forget the "we have to work hard at life" and the "work is good for the body and soul."

Let's get real, shall we?

Been there, heard that, absolutely hated it.

Hence, I would like to remind you of some great quotes about a wonderful thing called sleep.

I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?
Ernest Hemingway

Sleep -- the most beautiful experience in life -- except drink.
W. C. Fields

Sleeping is not time wasting.
Mike Wilson

See?

You "go getters"?

You exhaust me.

You "bustling busy bodies?"

You weary me.

You "diligent doers?"

You worry me.

I have one thing to say to all youse who are the antithesis of sleepy heads (like myself):

Don't be hatin'!

Sleepers unite!

We shall oversleep overcome!

We shall not even set the alarm clock hit the snooze button!

We shall take not catnaps, those are way too short naps!

And now?

*yawn*

I'm all tuckered out.

I feel myself slipping...

Into the Sleep Zone.

*zzzzzzzzzzzzzz*


B.S. Oh yeah and the tree quote? You want to know what trees are really good for? Providing shade while napping, or providing support to attach a hammock to, so you can nap in it. *yawn*

A Quirky Birthday Party

So have you heard enough about my birthday?

No?

Good.

My wonderful and sweetest friend in the whole wide world threw me a birthday party! Complete with balloons and not one, but two cakes!

All my good friends were there (except one and she is deep, deep trouble) and we had a blast!

It's a good thing no alcohol was involved.

It was wild!

My cheeks (facial, not butt) were hurting from laughing so much and so hard.

AND those scallywags pranked me!

They made a fake birthday cake.

This is how it went.

Oooohs and aaaahs over the "beautiful" and huge chocolate birthday cake as they brought it out and set it before me. I was so impressed with a capital IM. I even asked my friend, "Did you buy this or make this?"

It looked that good.

Well apparently, looks can be deceiving.

I sang a solo Happy Birthday song to myself in my signature opera style (what?).

Then they handed me the knife and I proceeded to cut the cake.

It was like cutting through a brick.

In my mind, I had mixed thoughts.

"Gee, I don't want to offend my friends daughter who 'made' the cake."

"Something is wrong."

"This is going to end up badly."

"This is going to devastate my friend's daughter whom I love dearly!"

"What do I do?"

"Keep smiling."

"Keep frozen smile in place."

Finally, as I continued sawing the cake, the top layer came off with the knife to reveal cardboard and lovely foam.

What?

Ooooooh! They are gonna get it!

And get it they did.

I took the top layer of chocolaty frosted "cake" and went over to my friend's daughter who had the look of fear in her eyes.

With good reason too. I planned to smash that puppy in her face, but what happened next was a frenzy of chocolate frosting and gloppy hands accosting my face and hair, screams and squeals of horrified delight. I, in return, fought back with grunts and growls and grabbing gobs of the chocolaty goodness and bestowing it onto the faces, hair, or any body part that I could smear the stuff on.

It was a blast!

A food fight!

In the end, I looked like a female Indian warrior complete with streaks of chocolate all over my face. I got my friend's other daughter good by smearing so much chocolate on her hair that she had to go wash it out right then and there.

So you take eleven adult women, one fake chocolate cake, one delicious Lemoncello cake, lots of delicious goodies, liters of Diet Dr. Pepper, and one Quirkyloon? You end up with tons of laughs.

Tons.

I may be a year older, but I continue to regress in my maturity level and emotional years.

And I love it.

Young, immature and quirky at heart!

I got it down pat!

Chocolate frosting anyone?

Anyone?

The Loot!

Boy did I make out for my birthday!

I'm amazed at my family's creativity.

We are like most other families during these not so great economic times, struggling. I mean there's not a lot Benjamin Franklins hanging out in our bank account these days. Hey, I would settle for some more Andrew Jackson's, but let's just say the presidents come in and out of the Casa de Quirky bank account like they are running for their lives.

Don't worry, it's all good.

So since times are tight, my family came up with some wonderful homemade gifts for me. Each one is a thoughtful and necessary gift.

My littlest guy Quirky Son #2 (QS#2) gave me some homemade dental floss! Needless to say I was more than a little surprised.

He took some horse tail hair and wrapped it around and around a discarded toilet paper tube.

QS#2: Look Mom! See how carefully I wrapped it around?

Q: (Looking at mangled horse hair wrapped on the toilet paper tube.) Yes, I see. What kind of hair is that?

QS#2: It's from a horse's hiney Mom! Dad got it for me.

Q: Ohhhh...terrific!

Yeah, I can't wait to use that stuff. Dental health is a very important thing, ya know. And this smart little guy was thinking long term because it's huge! I'd neigh, erm, I mean say that there is enough horse's hair on the tube that will last me a long, long, long time. He'll be amazed when he won't have to give me another one next year, or the next year, of even the year after that.

QS#2: Mom it's for your teeth!

Q: Yeah, I see that.

QS#2: Isn't it neato Mom?

Q: Oh yeah, real neato.

My oldest son Quirky Son#1 (QS#1) gave me something very close and dear to his heart. He's been watching his face carefully these days to see if there is any sign of a mustache. Well one day he noticed that Mom had a little mustache! His eyes popped out.

QS#1: Mom!

Q: Yes?

QS#1: Do you have mustache?

Q: (glaring) It's not a mustache! It's just some extra hair.

QS#1: Sorry.

So he put together another homemade gift just for me.

I now have my very own homemade facial hair bleaching kit. He had to tell me how he made it (in case I want to make some myself).

QS#1: Mom, I took some water, cornmeal, sugar, yeast, and bleach. I mixed it all up and put it in a pressure cooker. I had to boil it, let it cool down, mash it up a bunch. And then when it's in the pressure cooker it starts to evaporate into the tube, that evaporation Mom? That's the end product for your facial hair problem! Yeah, the coiled copper tube attached to the pressure cooker worked great. Then it all drained into this recycled pickle bucket. It was so easy! I'll make you some more when you need some, okay?

Gah.

He made five gallons for me to start with.

Q: Uh, thanks, Son, but I. Don't. Have. A. Facial. Hair. Problem.

Ahem.

But the coup de grace AND the piece de resistance was the very special gift given to me by my Quirky Husband (QH).

A homemade colonoscopy kit!

It came in a box. The box held a spelunker's hat with replacement bulbs, a rubber hose with both ends clipped off. One end of the hose had a nice soft, thick, spongy tip. I guess for more comfort during insertion? You could remove the sponge tip and wa-lah! A mini camera. Also included were a pair of rubber gloves, baby wipes, and a clear colon measuring cup. To catch the drippings?

Q: Wow Hon, you shouldn't have!

QH: Well not to mention your age, butt but you should be getting a colonoscopy on a regular basis considering your medical history.

Q: Yeah, I get it. We've been through a lot and this will help save on our many medical bills. (takes deep breath) Okay. Okay. I doo do appreciate your, um, thoughtfulness. Really, I doo do.

Ahem.

Thank goodness birthdays only come once a year. I'm not sure I could handle another birthday like this one.

I mean really what were they thinking? It must have been so difficult to come up with such creative and useful ideas.

I wouldn't want them to have to live up to the expectations and pressures of coming up with NEW ideas for my next birthday, or the one after that, so on and so forth.

I'm thinking more along the lines of homemade hand-written coupons for Mom service. Yeah, that will work better than this "stuff.".

My family.

They are so special to me.

And obviously, I mean a lot to them as well.

Looks like I am one very special Quirkyloon who is lucky to have such a great and loving family.

And that's all the real loot anybody needs!

Guest Poster: Zombieloon

I iz Zombieloon.

I postz for Quirkyloon today.

Whyz?

Iz her birthdayz.

She oldz.

Cannot tellz how many yearz.


She beheadz me, if I tellz. And she promised me a bitez, if I don'tz tellz.

I writez her a poemz. Iz based on Sonnetz 43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I no tellz too many peoplez, but I bitez Elizabeth longz timez agoz. She waz tastyz. She becamez my BZFF (Best Zombie Friend Forever). We hangz out. She'z a fun zombie, likes to karaokez. Greatz sensez of humorz tooz.

Anyhooz, here iz the poemz.

To: Quirkyloonz

How Do I Lovez Thee?

How do I lovez thee? Let me countz the ways.
I lovez thee to the depth and breadth and heightz;
My mouth canz reach, when feeling need to bite.
For the ends of Zombie and idle rage.
I love thee bloodz veinz levelz of everyday;
Most urgent need, by moon and candle-light.
I love theez freely, as Zombies strive for bitez;
I love theez purely, as I seek your brainz.
I love theez with the passionz of baboonz,
In your old briefz, and with your flannelz robez.
I bitez thee with a love that seemz to ooze;
With my deadz mates,—I lovez thee with the beastz,
Wiggly, coiling intest-tines!—and, if Dr. Sangre choose,
I shall but lovez thee betterz afterz death.

Happy Birthday Quirkyloonz.

I bitez you laterz, k?.

We eatz later, k?

No, no cakez.

Brainz!



B.S. She shallz neverz forgetz!

Bejewel Me!

And I'm not talking about bling for my ears, neck, wrists, fingers, and toes.

I'm talkin' 'bout Facebook bling ala Bejewled Blitz!

I'm starting to really hate that game.

And the players.

(Is that wrong?)

Nanny Goats In Panties, MindlessJunk Kathy, Hussy Housewife, Nikki Crumpet, and Jiggity Jenni are my Bejeweled Blitz Nemisi (plural of nemesis?).

I swear anyone of them click just ONE time and immediately the jewels cascade to the 100,000 mark.

What?

I'm lucky to get 50,000 once in every 50 games.

Am I bitter?

Heck yeah!

Check out my Bejeweled Diary (yes I have one get over it!).

Bejeweled Diary

Day One
Today the Bejeweled Man gave me two Goods and one Excellent and yet there were no cascades and only the slow clippity clops of matching three jewels at a time.

Total score: 5,100. Why, oh why?

Day Two
Oh great, NikkiCrumpet played and already has over 110,000. I swear that woman just clicks on the play button and points fall into her lap(top?).

As for my progress, Bejeweled Man gave me only one Good and two Excellents and I actually got a hypercube! I was psyched until the warning bell started and in my panic, I did NOT use the hypercube.

Total score: 21,900. Gah.

Day Three
Uh oh. Hussy is a'hustlin' again and Junk Drawer Kathy has merely LOOKED at the game and scored high. Junk Drawer Kathy got 138,200 and Hussy got 128,500. Some junkies and hussies have all the luck!

As for me and my game? Bejeweled Man mocks me. I had to ask for THREE hints. That is just wrong. And a definite omen that I am NOT going to be scoring high.

Today's score: 1,500. My worst score ever!

Day Four
What is this? Sass is sassifying Bejeweled? Is nothing sacred? Sometimes, SOMETIMES I stay ahead of Sass in the sixth or seventh position.

Her score so far? 110,900.

Sass? Don't you have some coffee to drink? Go ahead Girlfriend. Don't worry about things here in Bejeweled land. I'll um...um... take care of things. Don't you worry your sweet and sassy little head over such a trivial thing.

You go off now.

Really.

Go away.

NOW!

Ahem.

Anyhoo, today my game produced two multiplier gems, but did any jewels line up so I could match them? Oh nooooo! That would be too easy.

And... Bejeweled Man totally ignored me today.

Today's score: 9,800. Double gah.

Day Five
Okay, I just might stand a chance!

Nanny Goats in Panties must be busy with the goats, cuz she hasn't scored yet! (Yee haw) I pray the goats keep her busy for a long, long time. "Here Goatie Goatie... look in the closet! Yeah...those are shoes. Eat them all you want. And when Nanny gets home? Just play innocent. She won't kick you out, I promise (as long as YOU keep HER busy enough to stay away from the game!).

"Excellent" planning, if I do say so myself!

Sometimes a Quirky's gotta do, what a Quirky's gotta do!

AND (how long will this Quirky luck hold out?) apparently Jiggity Jenni has no time to play since her teaching gig is back in session. What a shame!

I'm actually quivering right now.

I can't believe it. Not only did Bejeweled Man speak the coveted words of Bejeweled love at me: Good, Good, Good, Excellent, Excellent, Excellent. I got not just one, but TWO hypercubes and USED them and... and... and... THREE (count em!) multiplier gems that I was able to line up!

AND...oh those loverly sounds of never ending cascading gems... it was practically orgasmic!

Today's score: 153,300! Yeah baby!

Perhaps I have been too rash in my judgment of the game.

As long as I am in FIRST place Maybe this game isn't too bad after all.

*grin*

The Poop List

Okay.

You know how much I love to learn. You also know that my synapses tend to falter more than run with ease, hence my memory cells have been partitioned and a few things did not make it back to their original spots.

This is one of those moments.

So I actually do remember way back in the 80's reading a joke on a piece of paper (before email was the norm and before the Safety Dance was invented).

It was all about poop.

So of course, I googled it and lo and behold...I found it.

Lucky you!

Word of warning, yes, I'm going there and yes, it's going to be gross.

And hilarious.

What?

It's a natural human function. Why can't we rejoice in laughter and smiles over fecal matter?

Read on (or print it out and read it during your own personal commode time).

THE POOP LIST

GHOST POOPIE: The kind where you feel the poopie come out, but there is no poopie in the toilet.

CLEAN POOPIE: The kind where you poopie it out, see it in the toilet, but there is nothing on the toilet paper.

WET POOPIE: The kind where you wipe your butt 50 times and it still feels unwiped, so you have to put some toilet paper between your butt and your underwear so you won't ruin them with stains.

SECOND WAVE POOPIE: This happens when you're done poopie-ing and you've pulled your pants up to your knees, and you realize that you have to poopie some more.

POP-A VEIN-IN-YOUR-FOREHEAD POOPIE: The kind where you strain so much to get it out, you practically have a stroke.

LINCOLN LOG POOPIE: The kind of poopie that is so huge you're afraid to flush without first breaking it into little pieces with the toilet brush.

GASSY POOPIE: It's so noisy, that everyone within earshot is giggling.

DRINKER'S POOPIE: The kind of poopie you have the morning after a long night of drinking. It's most noticeable trait is the skid marks on the bottom of the toilet.

CORN POOPIE: Self explanatory.

GEE-I-WISH-I-COULD-POOPIE POOPIE: The kind where you want to poopie but all you do is sit on the toilet and fart a few times.

SPINAL TAP POOPIE: That's where it hurts so badly coming out, you'd swear it was leaving you sideways.

WET CHEEKS POOPIE (The Power Dump): The kind that comes out so fast, your butt cheeks get splashed with water.

THE DANGLING POOPIE: This poopie refuses to drop in the toilet even though you are done poopie-ing it. You just hope that a shake or two will cut it loose.

THE SURPRISE POOPIE: You're not even at the toilet because you are sure you are about to fart, but *oops* --- a poopie!

It gets me everytime!

I laughed so much!

So were you able to keep from laughing? Or did you click away in disgust? Whether it's poo or pee (pun intended), it makes us laugh.

It has stood the humor test of time.

And we all have those not so fresh moments.

I'm proud to have joined the bowel movement wagon to share this poopy humor with you.

You just never know what you might learn here in poopieland Quirkyland.

*smile*

Thank goodness I didn't include images, eh?

Even I have my limits.

Poopie limits.

Ha!

It's An Old Biddy Eat Old Biddy World

Especially at any WalMart store.

Don't even look at me that way!

I have encountered some of the meanest, stingiest, and rudest OLD ladies and OLD men at the WalMart store. I cannot believe how inconsiderate and downright meanie-weenie they can be.

They may look like a sweet old Grandma or Grandpa on the outside, but on the inside? Their vim has aged badly into vinegar.

But I've learned a few tricks in dealing with Old Biddies. Just a few.

• When perusing for the least busy cashier and you find yourself next to an Old Biddy (male or female), just pretend that you don't see them as your cart cuts their cart off when entering the checkout line. All you have to do is nonchalantly and subtly (heavy emphasis on the subtlety) speed up about one-quarter of a step. You'd be amazed at how quickly you can beat the Old Biddies to the cashier.



• When one or more Old Biddies are causing a major blockage on Aisle 5? Quickly pull out your cell phone and pretend that you are talking on your cell phone and say in a loud voice (some Old Biddies are hard of hearing) something like this: "I just asked the sales associate Grandma. The DEPENDS are on sale on Aisle 4." And then you will be amazed at how quickly YOUR aisle will clear up. Who says Old Biddies move slowly? Pfft.



• When an Old Biddy needs a price check and starts a cashier line congestion spot? Get your five year old (if you don't have one, I have one you can borrow) to start a nice, good-old fashioned, spoiled brat temper tantrum. OR, if I'm already using my five-year-old and you don't have a niece or nephew or friend's child handy, then you could start talking about sex very loudly. Trust me the Old Biddy will look at you in horror and disgust, turn red, and then say "Never mind," to the price check and be on his or her own way in no time at all.
  
  Note: Do not start talking about bowel movements or any medical conditions. It will only endear you to them and encourage "friendly" chit chat. This will promptly land you back on square one and waiting for an infinity or two before getting your items scanned and paid for. Especially avoid the bowel movement talk, they live for that type of talk: potty talk.

I know these measures may seem harsh, but trust me they are a necessary evil. If I didn't utilize them, I'd never get my shopping done.

The Old Biddies are under the mistaken impression that they rule WalMart.

I'm here to tell you and them... WRONG!

It's a dog eat dog world out there.

Or in this case it's an Old Biddy eat Old Biddy world out there.

Plus, these measures work like a charm.

Every time.

*ruff*