Seriously, Blossom and Six as names for two teenage girls on one show. Did we ever learn what Six was short for? Because what is that abbreviating? Sixfanie? Sixmantha? Margaret? Come on.
Boner Stabone is a more believable and lovable sitcom best friend nickname (and, frankly, a far better character). Yep, I just checked to see if Stabone was spelled with one B or two, and let's just say it looks like joining the army worked out ok for Boner. And don't get me started on how great that episode was. Literal growing pains. His character was all grown up and had to leave. That will choke you up thinking back! The hug in the driveway...
GAH!
Show me that smile again!
Ok, I'm ok. We can do this. We can blog.
As the fair reader may have detected from my rather directly hyper-critical title for day 6's entry, there's a bit of a bitter flavor in the crockpot today. It may be accounted for by any number of factors - rainy weather, the fact that the rain was not the super-fun-snow-day-inducing snow that everyone I know on the east coast received, the fact that the rain made everyone on the street look a bit murderous to me today (which may have been due to the fact that I think I was making uncontrolled snarling faces at strangers for the majority of the day - especially children - or it may just be because I work in a high-crime area), the fact that one of my earphones done busted and it makes listening to music at work weird and I am actually paranoid that I will unevenly damage my hearing unless I rotate the one remaining ear piece (nevermind that these are in-flight headphones I received to use with an airline's free XM radio and not an actual electronic device intended for repeated use, purchased at any cost to me which might make annoyance at its demise reasonable), or it could be rotten seasoning in this soup?
I dunno. But there's a taste that's a bit crabby in the fishcrockpot today. Again, my apologies.
There's also no reason for this mood to brood, as someone brought cake made from scratch to work, and then another colleague surprised me with peanut m&ms she got free from a craft service table (L.A.-We love it!), and I've consumed more than my daily suggested allowance of cheese. Yet all day I wished I had access to a batting cage. I should be all dandy daisies but instead feel dudley dildos. Which might be a band name, depending on their genre.
Another crockpot challenge - what's your band name?
Today mine is Dali Pardon.
I found a picture in which I was imitating a giant picture I'd seen of Dali which had the phrase "I AM NOT MAD!" above his face in which he looked very, very insane, and somehow it made me feel better. Like ah yes, there it is. There's my state of mind.
In other photo news, today I also received a picture of myself via email in which I looked like a pregnant stoned amputee hermaphrodite. ONE PICTURE.
Really, it was a feat of photography, angles, and personal ridiculousness, I suppose, but it kind of boggled the mind that it was possible to look like all of those yet be none of those in one go. That's something that would be sold on an infomercial, it's got so many features. "But wait! Act now and we'll throw in the hermaphrodite look, all in one person! The first 30 callers to respond to this offer will also receive the Sports Illustrated basketball phone."
And speaking of writing things that don't sound like original thoughts to me, I tried to google the Michael Jackson cartoon because I kept expanding on my Ebony & Ivory idea last night after posting 5 alive, and was certain that there was already an MJ cartoon other than the original Jackson 5 cartoon out there. I could not find one. If someone told me about this and now I'm passing it off as my own idea, please call me on it.
Until then (no one's reading this!), I'll keep expanding on my Ebony & Ivory premise. Michael & Paul do live together in one giant estate - Michael because he needs the money due to legal fees/tax problems/etc., and Paul because of his divorce settlement payouts and because he hopes that by taking in MJ he'll be able to get to the Beatles catalogue before he dies. Anyway, he stays primarily in the Paul McCartney and Wings wing of the estate...until Michael gets into trouble! Like he does every episode. MJ, for his part, has a robot butler who is voiced by the same person who was Rosie on the Jetsons, and who calls him Mr. J, but whose primary function is to be a dancing machine.
Again - this is all very vivid in my head. It's probably sacrilege to depict two gifts to music so basely, but I love them both. And Paul is a bassist, so.
And speaking of Hey Jude, the cosmos was programmed to day 2 songlist of the crockpot today!
My day was bookended by car drives to "I Guess That's Why they Call it the Blues" (thanks KOST 103.5 - your soft rock loveline is my life line!) and I heard "Still the Same" and "Hey Jude" back-to-back while using online radio at work. So by my estimation, the right ear should be a bit deafer than the left because it had the earphone for "Hey Jude" and that's a pretty long song.
On to positive thinking.
Yesterday my dad asked me "Have you ever been really surprised by your reaction to something?"
He meant had I been surprised to find I either felt way more positively or negatively about something, or cared way more deeply about something than I'd originally thought or would typically expect.
The answer for me is yes - happens all the time. Lately I find an emotional attachment to the McDonald's drive thru lady at window 2.
Recent examples to which I've thought, wow, that really got me one way or another when I was expecting to have little to no reaction to it:
Bumper sticker that read, "Forget world piece, visualize using your turn signal."
Somehow this bit of observational humor KILLED me. Like laughing out loud and wanted to catch up with the driver and give a big thumbs up and go "I know, right? It's like no one uses their turn signal but everyone has these preachy as hell action item bumper stickers!" Honk Honk Honk! Friendly honk!
I think it was because the sticker was on a Prius, so I automatically assumed that the bumper sticker that began with a mention of world peace would somehow be even more sanctimonious than a normal visualize world peace bumper sticker (not that world peace is bad! nor prius drivers, nor conscientious, good-hearted loving folk everywhere). So when it was making fun of those people, but on a Prius, it was like a jab at their own kind somehow. Which is always hilarious (see: Larry David).
I also saw a poster that read:
"FOUND" black and white cat.
I thought this use of quotation marks was so funny that I wanted to call and ask if they had Found.
them: "Found? Have we found what?"
me: "My cat, Found. Do you have Found?"
them: "We have found...a cat. Yes."
me: "Is it Found? The cat?"
them: "It's a cat that's found, you are correct."
me: "But is it Found the cat. My cat?"
them: "We found a cat."
me: "No I 'Found'=ed a cat. They had been calling him Mittens at the animal rescue before I adopted him."
them: "So your cat is Mittens? Is he black and white? This could be him."
me: "But your poster said it was Found! Are you yanking my chain?"
them: "We DID find a cat! It could be named Mittens, I'm afraid that in talking with you I've become a bit lost."
me: "Well I just want Found!"
them: "Sorry you've lost your Mittens."
me: "It's been 80 degrees here! I don't have mittens, I just lost my Found! Do you have him or not because I'm about to drop the gloves!"
them: "I thought you didn't have any mittens."
And again I'm making fun of perfectly nice, conscientious people who are kind enough to take in stray cats (not Brian Setzer, he's too Friskies for houses and pees on furniture) and post pictures of the cat all over the neighborhood to prevent the heartbreak of the cat's actual owners. These people probably visualize world peace too. And I'm just a jerk with quotation mark "persnickity" problems.
If it makes you feel any better kindly cat folk, "I AM NOT MAD!"
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