November 29, 2007


Two minutes past twilight
he re-returns from the
outer reaches of the
upper peninsula
of the windward shore
of the lower river valley
of the repositioned
Southwest New Hebrides.
He collapses deliciously
with a half smile
showing no teeth,
spiky hair,
a new tattoo,
and wrinkled pajama bottoms
stuffed deep into a
navy-colored knapsack.
“Hey,” he invites, and,
with no effort on my part,
he ends up with
a beer in one hand
and in the other
stories from his latest
venture to Guatemala.
“The girls there are something else.”
In totality.
Most absolutely.

Nearish dawn,
as he sips on his twelfth
and finishes his description
of a late winter sunset
over the Cuchumatanes,
he looks at me,
in the eyes.
“It’s a big world you don’t know little girl.
A big big world.”
Like I was raising wolves
out of my houseboat
and my only
romantic encounters
were sewing shadows
onto the soles of
sarcastic young sirs.
“Yeah,” I concede.

He laughs quietly
like it is just
a particular way
he has of breathing.
I can see his teeth briefly
and the breath escapes.
I wander a bit more
into my misgivings.
He stretches luxuriously
and resumes his latest tale.
I close my eyes and listen
as Saint Anthony
shivers slightly.

November 27, 2007

Well, I am Hitler...

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Eigth Level of Hell - the Malebolge!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Purgatory (Repenting Believers)Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)Moderate
Level 2 (Lustful)High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)Moderate
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)Low

Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

November 26, 2007


Two names you go by (besides your given names)?
1. Auntie (Only two small girls in Austin can get away with this.)
2. Queen Anne the Judgmental (An undeserved nomenclature, I can assure you. I think Duchess Christina the Wack Job is just too sensitive.)

Two things you are wearing right now?
1. Stripy socks
2. Redder than red button-up top

Two longest car rides?
1. El Paso, Texas to Grand Canyon to Disneyland to Yuma, Arizona and back to El Paso
2. El Paso to Boise, Idaho by way of Salt Lake City and return route through Las Vegas
(Just guessing here. My family is big on the road trips.)

Two of your favorite things to do:
1. I have this Sunday morning ritual of sleeping in past 10. Then, when I do roll out of bed, I stay in my p.j.s and drink coffee out of my favorite coffee mug (one in particular that I save specifically for the weekend) while flipping through Us Weekly and watching some really bad movie on cable TV.
2. Write.

Two things you want very badly at the moment:
1. A new car
2. A chocolate malt

Three animals you have or have had:
1. Speedy, a non-ironically named turtle.
2. Ginny, the world’s best Boxer. She was mine for the two years her parents were stationed in Bahrain and then I had to give her back. Le sigh.
3. Darth Vadar, the cat from the dark side. He resides now with Amy as he was always aware which of the roommates spoiled him most.

Three things you ate today:
1. Banana (Yesterday, today, everyday.)
2. A sandwich made with leftover turkey (One of the best parts of Thanksgiving.)
3. Pretzel sticks

Two things you are doing tomorrow:
1. Working for a living
2. Some much needed yoga

Two favorite holidays:
1. Christmas
2. San Jacinto Day (This day coincides with my mother’s birthday, Earth Day, and the apex of Fiesta in San Antonio—three of my favorite things.)

Two favorite beverages:
1. Coffee coffee coffee (Coffee.)
2. Coca-cola
(For those of you who might be concerned, I work very diligently to control by caffeine addiction. My cokes are far and few between these days and I try to limit myself on my coffee intake. I am not quite the vibrating ball of energy that these answers might imply. No. Really. I have it all perfectly under control. Really.)

JS’s added question—Two favorite words:
1. Quagmire
2. Ambidextrous
(Well, maybe not favorites, but two really good ones.)

My added question—Two ways to goof off at work:
1. Turtle wrangling.
2. Online crossword puzzle.

I tag Rae-cho. Whatever happened to Motochica?!

November 18, 2007

So, which movie am I?

With the recent quizzes and the bemoaning of results, I’ve been thinking about which movie I would have preferred. As I stated, I would love to be a sci-fi action flick featuring a kick-ass leading woman who beguiles as she shows the alien baddies what-for. Oh, how I wish I could say I was Alien (or Aliens, but none of the subsequent films). If some uber-hunter species from the outer realms climbed its way out of one of my coworker’s abdomen, I would like to think that—after an appropriate amount of freaking out—I would grab my flame thrower and go. Then in the sequel, I’d do it again while catching myself a Marine boyfriend and revealing my mothering instincts to a lost little girl. Alas, when I take a long hard look at myself, I must confess that I am no Ripley. If I play a role at all the Alien franchise, I am the cat or at best Newt. I spend the movie hiding from the aliens until the Ripley character finishes off the bad guys and gets me home. And it just takes a little cocoa to win me over.
So if the Ripley’s, Lilu’s, and Leia’s aren’t really who I am, but who I aspire to be—who am I?
Lilo and Stitch. (That’s right. I went Disney.) I love this movie. It is funny, heartwarming, and chock-full of Elvis tunes. I identify with both of the main characters. Lilo the incredibly brilliant and artistic child whose vivid imagination and sense of self helps her cope with the fact that she does not fit in. Stitch, the amusing to the point of obnoxiously annoying blue guy who spends most of the movie not speaking until the key moment. Yes, I can see myself as the little girl who locks her sister out of the house, flings herself on the couch, and morosely sings Elvis. I can also see myself in Stitch as he builds a replica of a city, just so he can walk through the streets and destroy it. Plus, the running mosquito joke in the film is really funny.
Well, there you have it. In a way, I’m still sci-fi with a strong female lead. I’m just a bit cuter and a bit less mature.

November 15, 2007

I'm Not Taking Anymore of These Fucking Tests

Okay. So I took this twice. I am still the father of the Nazi party. Fuck!

Movie Me

Err, fuck.
I was sure I was Fifth Element or, at the least, Fantastic Voyage. Ah well. Hmmmm, I suddenly have the craving to fling bananas at errand boys. You know, the type sent by grocery clerks.

November 13, 2007

If My Uncle Was Danish

The was going or the could have been
—that goes without saying—
when you’ve got dodgy Viking credit
and ginseng pills thrown into the blender,
who the fuck turns it on?
A little ginseng, a little melatonin,
some of the chelated stuff from
HEB’s aisle of wellness
—it goes a long way in the ongoing
battle against the domination of sniffles.
Blenderize that, what have you?
Most precisely and again, what have you-ooh-ooh?
Get back, funky Jack
and take the high road to Tipperary.
Worry, whine, and wait some more,
because there’s no call to ruin
a perfectly fine blender.
Think of the daiquiris man!
Those alone are worth suspected murder
and incestuous intrigue.
A margarita on the rocks?
In this weather?
Save your Geronimo’s
and securely fasten the mask to your face
and then place one on that of the child next to you.
More precisely and again—take your parachute-oot-oot
cause your gonna get wet.
In summation,
if the house is going to win,
you don’t double down.
Another? You’re a sweetheart.

November 11, 2007

Joke of the Day

—Jasper Fforde

November 9, 2007

Quote of the Day

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there.

November 7, 2007

The Onion Song

as sung by Rowlf

I’ll admit I’ll split bananas,
take Easter eggs and make them dye,
but I never harmed an onion
so why should they make me cry?

Once I saw a salad dressing.
My face got radish, my oh my,
but I never harmed an onion
so why should they make me cry?

Potatoes I’ve mashed,
and berries I’ve crushed,
I’ve made an artichoke,
and that’s not all,
I’ve also whipped cream,
and beaten an egg,
yes, I’ve even made a melon ball.

Of all the things above I’m guilty
if punished I would know just why,
but I never harmed an onion
so why should they make me cry?
Oh, why should they make me cry?

November 6, 2007

Paragraph 1

The Great American Novel, Chapter 1: Onions

A few years past the apocalypse, during one of the twice-yearly times when all the clocks are set correctly, our young heroine was dismayed by the contemplation that she might be developing an affinity for onions. Resolution of the predicament was immediately hampered by her indecision as to whether she should initially react to this conflict by declaring, “Egad!” or “Jumpin’ jehosophat!” She was initially drawn in by the more alliterative one but then hesitated as it implicated a certain amount of quaintness that she was loathe to invest in considering she was to be everlastingly hampered by a first and middle name combination that immediately drew to mind the image of a young girl in a gingham apron baking pies. Oh, how she dreamed to have one of those she-spy names that at once conjured the sensation of enticing danger and the image of female genitalia. Our heroine did realize that she-spies most likely also began their early lives with humdrum nomenclature that evoked Iowan baked goods, but later changed their names to something more likely to catch their male opponents off guard. Our leading lady did not feel that option was open to her as her first name came from her great-grandmother and her middle from her aunt: a Nordic homemaker and manic-depressive respectively. Also, our heroine was always distressed by the needless destruction of vases, which she assumed would be a hindrance should she ever take up a career in espionage. None of this, of course, would have anything to do with how she would solve the predicament on hand: onions.