pictures..rock..

Boyfriend and me.

I wish I had an English accent

I just watched a video clip of J.K. (aka Jo) Rowling on the MSNBC web site. She responded to a question that is often asked, and I really liked her answer.
The question, in a nut shell was, "What do you have to say to all the parents who will not let their children read your books?"
She said that in her books, her characters do challenge authority, and they do break rules. She says this is because she does not agree with the "I'm older so listen to me," theory that a lot of parents have come up with.
Last Summer, when I spent 2 weeks in Utah with my Aunt Alina, she told me why she would not let her kids watch or read Harry Potter. She said it was because of the way they challenged authority and do bad things in order to get a good out come.
I think all the parents that hate J.K. Rowling and her books are the same ones that say things like, "Rap music made my kid smoke weed," or, "That song about suicide is what gave my kid the idea."
Personally, I think it's all bullshit.
It is the parents responsibility to teach a child the difference between right and wrong. It is their job to tell the child after reading a book or watching a movie such as Harry Potter, that it is pretend, and to point out that it is not always ok to break rules, and that there are consequinces to wrongful actions.
A lot of parents also disagree with the whole magic concept. That is so completely close-minded. Disagreeing with the magic is like disagreeing with an imagination at its best. No, Magic is not real, so these people are really just bitching about nothing. Right?

It was a semi-creepy day today. It started off with a gentleman calling me about my car. Being that I only have about 5 minutes left to use on my phone, I had to postpone answering it until I got some where with a land-line. I called him back when I got to Mema's but he did not answer. He then called back and said, "Hey, yo, someone call me?"

I said, "Yes. I called in regards to your call about my car."

"Oh, yeah. Uh. Hello? Are you there?"

"Yes. I'm here."

Click.

I don't know what happened, but he ended up calling me back thirty minutes later to tell me that he was interested in my car for $2,300; but he needed a month to get the inheritance from his grandmother's death. Nice, buddy. Next buyer, please.

After that interesting occurrence, Lauren and I went to layout at her Mom's boyfriend's pool. Usually when we go there, we are all alone. Not this time. This time The Boyfriend was doing work in the back yard with a buddy of his. They were fixing his hot tub (good thing since it's been broken for 5 years. Get a new one, shit). His buddy was the epitome of large. He had his shirt off. He was wearing shorts over his belly button, and he was wearing brown socks with his black shoes. And the worst part of all this was that when he turned around with his ass facing me and lauren, we could see that his butt was sweating. Needless to say, we turned our sun bathing chairs around so as not to see this train wreck.

As if that was not enough, a guy from across the street came to join the party of tanning, hot tub fixing, and butt sweating ( funny how this all has to do with heat, we tan cause it's hot, hot tubs are hot, and this guys ass--obviously hot). This new man was loud and obnoxious. He told Lauren and me that his pool was way better than this one, and he would make us drinks. Nice, coming from a 60 year old man. Sick.

To end my day of creepiness, my Papa was, for some reason, amused by a pigeon eating bird seed and just had to tell me his exciting story.

"There was a pigeon over by the shed where I spilled bird seed, and It was eatin' and eatin' and when it got done it just waddled down the hill. It didn't even fly."

Thanks papa. You should write a book about that one.

Creepy days are just... creepy.

He should write a book.

I have a friend who I am going to go see play tonight. He is a rockabilly musician and an Elvis impersonator and an undertaker and an ordained minister. I shit you not. He can marry you and bury you while he is dressed like Elvis (Elvis in black not Elvis in white). And if you don't believe me, you can ask his roommate who is both a rockabilly boy and a little person. I'm not sure what the protocal is on using someone's name on a blog when you are only saying nice things about him, so I'll stick to BLD.

BLD is one of the nicest guys I know as is his roommate. My girlfriend and I ran into them last weekend when we were out listening to music. We actually ran into several really cool people at the show but had to leave because her ex-boyfriend's ex-wife was there and has, apparently, developed superhero-like lazer glaring abilities that cause searing headaches.

Now, I have friends who are club people; they like to go to these warehouse-like, techno-thumping, blacklight-glowing clubs. These places are fine if you are twenty-one, tan, skinny, and like to spend $8 on a cover and/or drink; or are doing drugs where techno and strobes are required; or are gay.

I am a bar girl. I like places with live music that isn't playing so loudly that you can't have a yelling conversation. In bars like this, if they have a blender, it is usually broken. The best of these places serve Guiness Extra Stout and/or Negro Modelo. BLD is also a bar boy. Most of my best, good friends are.

We hung out with BLD most of the time we were there, mostly because the man has the best stories ever. It turns out that he has been married three times and is looking for lucky number four. I don't say that in a cutting or sarcastic manner at all. The man is a true believer in love and marriage and that with the right girl, he can live happily ever after. I love a man who is a romantic. (I never fall for them, but they are great guys.)

Anyway, tonight one of BLD's bands is playing in Yukon America at a bar called either the "Cow Patty" or the "Cow Pie." I can't remember for sure. Neither my friend nor I have ever been there - believe it or don't, but we are hoping that once we get to town, we can just ask at a 7-11. Surely there aren't both a "Cow Patty" and a "Cow Pie" in Yukon. Wish us luck.

Brit refuses to post, so I'll put up dirty stuff. . .

So do you remember the "love is. . ." cartoons from the '70s? (No, Brit, not you. You weren't even born yet!) Here are some rejected "love is. . ." cartoons.

Some of them aren't very nice at all. Some of them almost offended me, but then I was laughing so hard, I decided not to take a break to be offended. Here is my favorite.

Brit, if you'll post something, I'll pull this for you, hence, removing the dirtyness from your blog.

Link stolen from www.CollegeHumor.com.