Quirky Checklist

It's time to venture out into the world and do some grocery shopping!

But first I must check off my items on my checklist.

• Showered? Yes.



• Shaved? Yes. Woops, I forgot a spot. There's a little stubbly nubble right....there.



• Deodorized? Uhm, yes, but maybe another swipe or two wouldn't do any harm. *sniff, sniff*



• Chin plucked? Uhm, lemme take another looky loo. Aha! Another illegal stray! I tell ya. I need to pass my own SB1070 to keep these unwelcome visitors out.



• Speaking of boogers, nostrils clear? All clear. Copy that.



• Cute sweats? Yep. 



• Jacket? Uh-huh. Cuz it's been a freezing around here, temps in the 60's. Brrr.



• Car-keys? Darn it! Where are they? *clink, clank* Whew! There they are. Okay. Check.



• Cell-phone? Yeppers. Never know when I might get that call from Publishers Clearing House telling me I've WON!



• Debit card? Man's greatest creation of plastic...ever!

Check, check, check.

Looks like I'm all set.

*record scratch*

Hold the flippin' phone!

One more thing.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

Ah! The ever necessary and lovely.... surgical mask!

Yep.

I'm that lady.

I like keeping my germs to myself. And please, keep YOURS to yourself too.

So I guess it really doesn't matter if I got a booger or two peeking out. Nobody's gonna see it.

*grin*







B.S. No ladies or germs (ha ha ha) were harmed during the production of this post.

My Top One New Year's Resolution

I know holiday decorations are still collecting dust in many homes, we've barely been able to sigh a sigh of relief (well at least until the bills come). But I am sooooo excited.

Why? Because next year, 2011, will be MY year.

The Year of the Quirky. Or better yet: the Year of the Loons!

Whatever. Take yer pick.

I am excited because I am way ahead of the resolution game, my peeps.

Call it inspired, call it OCD, call it wishy-washy (no, let's not call it that), but I am ready.

Red-eee.

This, my friends, is my ONE and ONLY New Year's Resolution.

Oh, yeah, baby.

Suh-weet!

B.S. No work ethics were harmed during the production of this post.

TV Much?

I have a wonderful cyber buddy. His name is Nonamedufus. He is a solid writer, funny and PUNNY to boot. You should check him out.

I not so recently left a comment at his blog indicating yet ANOTHER television that I watch and his reply to my comment was this:

"Lord you watch an awful lot of TV. You talk about shows I've never even heard of."

I had made a reference to my newest t.v. addiction/horror: TLC's Sister Wives. Kody Brown gives me the heebeejeebies!

Anypolygamy, this made me realize I've never shared with you my list of personal favorite television shows. So lucky youse, here it be!

Law & Order. Most of you know this. I've dun-dunned here at my blog many times. Probably to the point where you've wanted to retch, but hey the dun-dun of it all is this: it's a good show. And Detective Stabler is some sweeeeet eye-candy.

Survivor. Yes, I watch this reality show. I used to be a die-hard fan, but that has dwindled over the years, but I'm still curious as to what is going on the island, so I tune in. Plus, Jeff Probsts's dimples are way too cute.

Gene Simmons:Family Jewels. I was so shocked at how funny this guy can be. Yes, yes, he's a rock star, the tongue and all that; but behind the scenes, he is one funny dude. His family adds a lot of laughs to his show especially his son, Nick. It's fun to see how the rich and famous live the good life. Well, not really, but I loves being a nosy wench. And I'll take what I can get, getting the "real" life looky loos.

The Sopranos. I'm a late fan of the show. I didn't start watching it til A&E started televising it. I remember my first episode where my eyes were wide open, I couldn't blink, and my tongue started drooling because it was hanging out of my mouth. I was in awe. I think the writing is fantastic and it made a cold-blooded killer, womanizer, and amoral Tony Soprano, seem worthy of empathy. Talk about a paradox.

House Hunters. I get to look inside houses! A girls' dream come true! This show caters to my nosy gene in a good way. And I've learned a lot from the show. Any place that doesn't have granite counter tops, stainless steel appliances, hard wood flooring, and huge walk-in closets is just white-trailer trash decor. Don't buy it. Nuh-uh, no how, no way. And...you're welcome.

Criminal Minds. Okay, I'm also a late bloomer to this show as well. I guess after watching how "few" detectives solve all those "dun-dun" murders on Law & Order, I couldn't understand why it would take a team of SEVEN people to solve murders. And only one of those seven people is on a computer and another one has some sort of super-instinct. And one of those people just watches the girl on the computer over her shoulder. And what does un-sub stand for? I'm more used to Law & Order's "perps." Un-sub? So after I got over all of this criminal confusion in my mind, I decided I like the show.
 
Uh-oh. I just got a crick in my neck.
 
I'll have to finish this list in some future blog post. (Oh yes, there are many more shows!)
 
I know you'll be waiting with bated breath.
 
Plus, I think there's a show on t.v., I gotta go watch!
 
Excuse me.






B.S. No un-subs were harmed during the production of this post.

B.B.S. Oh yeah, today is special. I almost forgot (watching too much television can cause extreme forgetfulness)...

Merry Christmas!

Listen!

She fiddled with the tuner and the song came blaring on:

"Whoa-oh, we're living on a prayer!" (Bon Jovi)

She fiddled some more and heard this instant shocked reply.

"But Mo-om, I like that song."

"Oh you know that song?"

"Uh-huh."

"Sing it for me."

"Whoa-oh, listen to a prayer!"

*snort*

And that's why despite his recent WAY-over-inflated sense of Christmas gift entitlement which startled me scared and produced some new WAY-over-inflated sweat ducts in my armpits; I still big puffy heart the dude.

He's lucky he's cute.

And funny.

Anybody got some extra protection deodorant I can use?

It's getting a tad bit rank in here.

*sniff, sniff*

Hello?

Hello?

Yeesh.

Nobody listens anymore.








B.S. No prayers were harmed during the production of this post.

A Barbie World?

That's a stupid question, of course we are living in a Barbie world. (More like a Women Wanna Look Like Barbie World.)

Let's take a look at Barbie and all her wonderful attributes and compare them with all of MY wonderful attributes.

Why are you laughing, Nomie?

Whatever.

Beautiful blue eyes. I admit that as a hazel brown-eyed girl, I think the baby blues are gorgeous. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I had been blessed with blue or green eyes. You know how the saying goes: "the grass is always greener," or in my case it would be: "the eyes are always greener." Oh, and don't even mention the brown-eyed Barbies. They came way, way after. So don't EVEN go there.

Cute upturned nose. Dang. It is cute. Cute as a button. (Quirky takes a look at her nose in the mirror.) Dang, can't long honkers be cute too?

Perfect lip-glossed lips. She's got us here Ladies. I try to maintain perfectly glossy lips, but usually end up with the spittle thingy caught between my left incisor and its complementary bottom left incisor tooth. Too much gloss can cause the gettin' jiggy wid it spittle-mabob.

Perfect white teeth. Dentures anyone?

Perfect chin. I dunno. In this day and age isn't "more" good? So I say a double or triple chin is a good thing. Think of them as backup chins. Oh, and hers is hairless. Whatever.

Perfect petite shoulders. Whatever did Barbie do in the 80's? Remember when shoulder pads were all the rage?  I still go for that look. Sans pads. Ahem.

Perfect boobs. Hey, I'd settle for two boobs.

Perfect teensy, weensy, tiny waist. I've got one. Somewhere in there. If I pick up this side flap? I can definitely see it under there!

Perfect hips. I've caught onto a secret Ladies! And yes, I'm willing to share. The bigger the hips, the smaller the waist looks. Just saying.

Perfect thighs. I'm happy to say I've got them. Next time you buy a turkey, look at the thighs and think of me with a smile in your heart.

Perfect knees. Way overrated.

Perfect calves. I've got one fairly decent developed calf muscle, but I'm still looking for the one in my right leg. I don't know where it went to! Maybe a zombie nipped it away while I was sleeping? It's possible.

Perfect ankles. When I shave, mine are near perfect too!

There it is my Barbie vs. Quirky review, in all its quirky glory.

And now you might be able to appreciate my shock and horror when I read this story.

In case you're too ADD to click on the link and actually read the story, this is the gist.

"Border agents seized 141 cartons of fake Barbie... dolls headed for the U.S. from Mexico. The boxes of fake dolls were found inside a truck Nov. 29 at the San Luis port of entry in southwestern Arizona."

Fake Barbies?

I just can't imagine.

B.S. No shrimps on the barbie were harmed during the production of this post.

"A Little Less..."

"...than last time, huh Mom?"

My seven-year-old saw Santa this last weekend and told him what he wanted for Christmas.

He totally blew off my gentle subliminal messages.

"Oh, I thought you wanted a scooter this year."

"Didn't you say you wanted a scooter?"

"Is this the kind of scooter (pointing to scooter in the Wal Mart circular) you want?"

"I bet Santa WILL bring you a scooter this year. Just keep on being good, ok?"

Oh no, he told Santa he wanted a huge remote control car and a Wii.

Whee.

Not.

I already GOT the scooter.

Not to mention, no way, no how would we ever get a Wii for a seven-year-old. For the family, yes? But not as an individual gift from the big guy up at the North Pole.

Well not to worry. I explained to my son that although he messed up, erm, I mean "forgot" to ask for the scooter, he could still write a letter to Santa and ask for a scooter.

He promptly grabbed a pen and paper.

This is what he wrote.

Dear: Santa

scooter
computer
DS charger
flat screen t.v.
xbox360
xbox
PS3
camera
mario game (for DS)

Love: Quirky Son #2

Uhm. Okay.

A DS charger is for his Nintendo DS. PS3 is a PlayStation 3. Flat screen t.v. is well, a flat screen t.v.

Forget the lack of capitalizations. Forget that he didn't even ASK for these things, just listed them. He didn't even write, "please!" Forget that he just dropped the letter on the tree skirt and walked away.

He'd better be darn happy Christmas morning to get his shiny new scooter. Scoot-er.

Who does he think we are? The Kardashians? Ryan Seacrest? Oprah?

What a demanding little loon.

And then just now he came up to me and said: "Mom, this list is a little less than last time, huh Mom? This list is a lot less than last year. Santa is going to be real good to me this year!"

*thud*







B.S. No scooters were harmed during the production of this post.

Peccadilloes

Peccadilloes or peccadillos: a slight offense.

Top Eleven Quirky Peccadilloes

11. I never met an ellipsis I never used: My unwritten novel? Ellipsis Gone Wild...


10. I've been known to huff and puff and blow an expletive or two. Especially in parking situations.


9. I'm scared of real life, hence, I'm a homebody and wear a paperbag over my head at all times. So just leave me alone. And no, I don't want to meet you in real life. I've got social phobias. So there. 


8. I adore zombies to the point where people roll their eyes at me. It's quite tantalizing.


7. Odors define my reality, hence make sure YOU smell good at all times.


6. Because I'm not in a hospital bed, people tend to forget my chronic pain. I'm looking at YOU, husband. Oh, and you, CHILDREN. And all of the rest of youse as well.


5. I am not a cat person and I take pleasure that they spew forth hair balls for their owners.


4. I get angry when there's nothing good on television. What's a couch potato to do? 


3. I love hearing the voices in my head. They are most intriguing. Remind me to tell you about them sometime.


2. The loony bin does not sound like a bad place. Not at all. I really think I would like it there. A lot. I understand they welcome head-bagged people.  


1. I've never understood the saying, "The cheese stands alone." Why can't we just leave chunks of cheese alone? Don't be hatin' on cheese.

These are MY peccadilloes. 

And if any of them slightly offend you?

Oh, well.

Go get yourself a piece of cheese.

And enjoy.

*munch, munch, munch*





B.S. No armadillos (no relation to peccadilloes) were harmed during the production of this post.

Top Three Point Five Quirky Christmas Songs

Have any favorite Christmas songs?

I do.

But just a few.

Number 1:
Trans Siberian Orchestra/Metallica, Carol of the Bells. This song is utterly glorious to my Quirky ears. It is so lively and mesmerizing. I always do my own "conducting" whilst listening to this music. And yes, it's usually whilst driving, hence many strange stares ensue. I like to entertain others.

Number 2:
Emmy Rossum's, Carol of the Bells. It sounds like she's got an acapella thingy going on for most of the song and it sounds amazing. But then you can hear some of the instruments, but mostly it's her "instrument." Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong. Mmm. Now I'm craving a ding dong. Now if I were Paula Abdul, I'd have tears streaming down my face saying, "You touched me. Your instrument...its...such...a gift." Thank goodness for YOU, I'm NOT Paula.

Number 3:
Boney M, Mary's Boy Child. Ha! You thought it was going to be another version of Carol of the Bells, eh? Fooled you. But I do love the calypso beat of this sweet Christmas ditty. It always makes me tear up. And you thought Quirky had a heart of coal. I understand why, but 'tis not merrily so! Yea verily.

Number 3.5:
Blue Christmas by Elvis. Why the half attribute? Because have you noticed how incredibly short this fun Christmas song is? You're barely getting the woo-woo-woo-wooos down, then it's already over! Yeesh!

So there you have it (with linky loos included).

I'm getting earfuls of these tunes and loving it.

And then I'll be completely sick of them by December 25th and will merrily hurl if I hear just one more Christmas musical note, especially bells.

By then, I will gladly welcome back the eleven month respite from these tunes.

And then it will start all over again.

Life is a cycle, baby.

Whee.







B.S. No bells were harmed during the production of this post.

A New Quirky Do?

Top Ten Reasons You, erm, I mean Quirky Might Need A Haircut (or at least a styling).

10. Your 13-yr-old son asks you daily if you've showered and fixed your hair yet.



9. Your 7-yr-old son asks you daily if you've showered and fixed your hair yet.



8. Your husband's jaw hits the floor when you exclaim, "I feel so much better now that I've fixed my hair."



7. Your 15-yr-old female guest offers to give you a haircut. Me: "Do you know how to cut hair?" Her: "Nope."



6. Your 17-yr-old female guest surreptitiously talks about getting her hair cut and says (spontaneously, of course) "Oh Sandie, I should take you see my stylist sometime. She does great work!" *hint, hint*



5. Your friend whom you haven't seen in awhile asks if you are wearing a wig.



4. Your other friend asks if you've gotten "highlights" when it's gray strands poking through.



3. Your therapist suggests that you might feel better if you "did something for yourself" such as a haircut.



2. When you spy your reflection in a store window and your first thought is a shaggy gray haired dog. *woof, woof*



1. When you take your son in for a hair cut and nine hair stylists surround you drooling with anticipation.

I guess I know what I'm getting for Christmas.

*snip, snip*







B.S. No Garnier Fructis hair products were harmed during the production of this post.

A Boo Boo

Kathy Griffin Gets Booed

"We got two words: Bristol Palin." Griffin continued. The troops began jeering Ms. Griffin's routine. "You're gonna like this," she continued. "[Bristol is] the only contestant in the history of the show [Dancing With The Stars] to actually gain weight. ... She gained like 30 pounds a week. I swear to God, it was fantastic -- she's like the white 'Precious.'"

Oh Kathy, Kathy.

I love you girl.

Wicked hard.

So it pains me to write how incredibly disappointed I am in ye.

Not that you care.

But I do.

Everybody goes on and on about women's body images and how unrealistic Hollywood expectations are. Young and old girls suffer from eating disorders. Young and old women are getting lipo-ed to death. Young and old women are going under the knife (you, included) to attain perceived body perfection.

How could you attack Bristol Palin about her weight?

Attack her because she's Sarah's daughter and they live in Russia's backyard. Attack her because she had sex with one of the most shallow and empty-headed boys ever: Levi Johnston. Attack her because she's trying to cash in on her Mom's fame. Attack her because she has a 99.9 percent chance of adopting her Mom's locution: "You betcha."

I don't have a problem with any of that.

But her weight?

Kathy, you let me down girlfriend.

Wicked hard.

Can you hear me booing?

Boo.







B.S. One Quirkyloon's heart was damaged during the production of this post.

Eyeball Blues

Good heavens.

'Tis the season for Christmas lights. Wait. Am I still allowed to call them Christmas lights? Or must I refer to them as Holiday lights.

Egads.

Anyhoo...Christmas lights are up everywhere!

So pretty.

So sparkly.

So annoying.

Okay, not all lights are annoying, but the royal blue colored Christmas lights? They are freaking killing my corneas!

They are so hard on the eyes to behold. They make my eyes water and they look so fuzzy. I can't stand to look at them.

In defense of blue lights, I have seen light blue lights and those are just fine and dandy. It's just the deep royal blue lights that are offensive to my quirky eyeballs.

So why am I drawn to look at them? I already know the pure torture and pain my eyeballs will suffer, yet I still have to look. It's like roadkill, but worse. It's like plumber's butt, but (ha! a pun!) worse. It's like a morning without Diet Dr. Pepper, but worse. It's like Rocky without Bullwinkle, but worse.

Not sure why I thought of them, but I think it is residual torture from those darn "royal blue" lights.

And what exactly is so royal about that shade of blue?

As you can tell, I'm in dire straights here and all because of blue Christmas lights. They are causing a new level of lunacy in my brain. My synapses are bouncing off the right side of my brain into my left. It's getting ugly folks.

I'm unquestionably feeling whacked beyond normal. ("Normal" being a relative term here.)

So please tell Elvis that I'm definitely having a blue, blue Christmas!

Ooo-woo-woo-woo-woo-wooooo!





B.S. No decorations of red were harmed during the production of this post.

ThumbeQuirkylina

So I am finally a texter.

I text, therefore I am.

Which is what I do now with my new (and extremely cheap) cell phone.

Okay, so I am always a day late and a dollar short in all things technology. I admit it. So I pride myself when I finally catch onto the latest gadget fad.

Although I still don't understand the difference between a widget, gadget, and an app. They all serve the same purpose in my outdated book. (Or should that be overdue book?)

With my previous cell phones, I didn't even bother trying to text because I didn't have a qwerty keyboard and I didn't have the patience to press the number 2 button three times just to get the letter c.

That was way too much effort.

Then one day...I "had" to get a new phone. "Oh looky there. The phone broke. How did that happen?"

Of course, I had my eye on a qwerty phone.

And I got it!

But now my fingers are all thumbs. Oh yeah, I can text a lot faster, but there are tons of typos (even more than in my daily thrice-checked blog posts).

Like yesterday I sent a quick "hello" text to a teenage girl who has been staying with us (we not only take in stray dogs, we take in stray teens as well). I was proud that there were no typos. Although it is kind of hard to misspell the word: "Hi."

I sent it off and waited for a reply.

And I got one.

"Is this Mister Quirky?"

What?

Woops!

I sent it to our home owners insurance agent by accident!

Curses, thumbed again!

Erm, I mean foiled again!

In other words: I thumbed it wrong.

But at least there were no typos.






B.S. No fairy, fairies or faeries were harmed during the production of this post.