XX - The Sex

For those of you who clicked because you saw the three letter word above, get your minds out of the gutter and accept that my post is about females. Men like to call us weak, and us women let those goofballs believe it as we cleverly outsmart our male counterparts. After all, we have an extra leg of chromosome.

Remember the scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding, where the women manipulated the man into coming up with their idea because after all, "men are smart." But that's just a movie. What about real life male smarts? I bet you don't see many women grabbing their cameras and heading out to photograph a real live tornado when the sirens go off.

I'll never forget college when a good friend had a serious problem and needed my help. He had a hole in his sock, and not one guy in his fraternity knew how to fix it. He wanted me to show him how to darn a sock. It ain't rocket science! And then there's the young man who wanted to heat a can of soup. He lit the burner and put the can on top. Nearly set the place on fire.

So when you're thinking about the intelligent sex, think females - but please don't think of Sarah Palin.

Yours: That's Succinctly Yours - The Old Chair

Grandma Goulash's Weekend Writer's Retreat

I've been challenged to write about this chair. Well, okay. I've written about sea shells, dragons, and dandruff, so surely I can come up with a word or two about a chair--from the chair's point of view. Why not?

What are you looking at? Oh, yeah. I forgot that I have gorgeous scenery out my window. Not that I ever get to look at it. Behind is my magic word. The sea is behind me. You think I ever get to hear the movement of the water or feel the wind against my velvet. All I get is a smelly behind on top of me, and these people aren't lightweights either. In fact, my velvet used to be yellow but I became so flustered from the fat gal, that I turned as orange as an Oompa Loompa. Yet I'm supposed to look pretty and pretend that I don't have the worst job in the house. 


Flush! Err, uh, correction--the second worst job in the house.

 

Click on this icon to see the Grandma Goulash's picture challenge and hop onto other pages.

Zowwy! Here We Go Again.

I just finished the A-Z April Blogging challenge, and now I've signed up for the Z-A in May. What am I nuts? I guess I just need a little direction on what to write about . . . and zowwy, maybe a little time to figure out my posts. Stick with me, and I'll figure this out along the way. Even though May is the longest month of the year--just ask any teacher--I'm going to stay awake and make this blog challenge happen with zest!

Here We Go Again!

I thoroughly enjoyed the A-Z Challenge. During the month of April, I picked up a lot of new followers, but unfortunately, I'm not sure how many. Maybe between 75-100. I surprised myself in how I was able to keep up with it and come up with original topics for each letter. I enjoyed the challenge so much that here we go again. I signed up for this new Z-A Challenge at: 

 http://www.writewrongorindifferent.com. Why don't you come join me?

Cetus the Whale (Six Sentence Sunday)

Here's another six sentences from Being Bompsy Carleffa, my unpublished YA manuscript for the Six Sentence Sunday at http://www.sixsunday.blogspot.com. After Ben's kidnapping by the mob, Sarah and Austin are searching for him by studying clues from the internet.

            “During study hall, I conducted further research on the Carleffas.” Austin looked like he’d discovered a cure for Cancer or better yet, found Ben. “They’re worth sixteen billion dollars—claimed money anyway; they probably have more hidden in overseas accounts since their accountant’s a crook with a criminal record as long as Cetus the Whale.”

            “Long as who?”

            “Huge constellation with a M77 that has an active galactic nucleus,” Austin said.

            Since I didn’t speak nerd, I had no clue what he was babbling about, but that didn’t stop Austin from continuing in his excitement.

Mrs. Zimmerman's Donuts #AtoZ

If I ever wish to get published, I guess I need to spend less time blogging and more time working on my manuscript, "Mrs. Zimmerman's Donuts." I was inspired to write this book from Halloween memories as a kid. My mother had repeatedly told me not to eat ANYTHING unwrapped. Being ridiculously  obedient, each year I skipped gooey pieces of grease on a plate of powdered sugar. Boy was I a dumb kid!

Years later my mom said, "Well, you could have eaten something unwrapped from Mrs. Zimmerman."

Why didn't you tell me that sooner, Mom? Since it's too late for me to go back and down a donut--having moved to another city and given up sugar--I invented a character named Knob. He wears a buzz cut that makes his head look like a door knob. Unlike me, Knob has a wild Mohawk wearing buddy who will teach him how to break the rules with style.

I hope one day you'll be able to visit your local bookstore and pick up a copy of "Mrs. Zimmerman's Donuts." Until then, read my blog.

Thanks for sticking around for the AtoZ Challenge. Tomorrow I will be participating in the six sentence Sunday. Now what am I supposed to write about throughout the rest of May? Please come back because I know I'll figure something out.

Real Life YoYos #AtoZ

Being 2011, finding yoyos is much easier with Al Gore's invention of the internet. All you have to do is go to YouTube and search, "The People of Walmart." So maybe after viewing those photos, what I saw wasn't that odd, but still, these strangers remain ingrained in my memory.

My family took a vacation to Chicago when I was a little tyke, and we saw some oddities walking down the street as if nothing was unusual about them. A man had a faucet stuck to his head and I embellished this scene in my writing. I combined the scene with the stranger on the Paris subway who leaned over passengers, flapped his hands like he was dog paddling, and said, "Awook!" No, I didn't make this up. The truth is stranger than fiction. But, I did make up the flash fiction story which I've placed at the end of this post.

I have yet to find a story for the man with feathers sticking out of his hat or Dracula, the man who shared a train with my daughter. But fear not. I'm a writer, so these individuals will make their way into my fiction because a yoyo is worth preserving!

I can't believe tomorrow's post is for the letter Z! This month went fast. Please tune in as I discuss my work in progress (WIP) called Mrs. Zimmerman's Donuts. And finally, if you're interested, here's Faucet Head.

Faucet Head

     A scraggy man with a faucet stuck to his forehead pulled his Harley  into the reststop, while Alanna poked at the busted drinking fountain. Standing behind her, he flipped his hands like a dog paddling through a crusty pond. The stranger, reeking of dead fish, leaned over her shoulder and said, “Awook!”


      Alanna calmly stroked her dry throat and reached for the stranger's forehead. “Mind if I get water?”

       “Aw-oo-ook!" He leaped back. "This thing ain't got no water. You turn that dang crank, and me brains is falling out.”

      “It's ninety degrees, and every fountain's broken."


      “Sorry. Cain't help. Stingy plumber want two-hundred-dollars to fix me head."

 

X Marks the Spot #AtoZ

X marks the spot with a dot and a dot

and a dash and a dash,

and a great big question mark.

With pinches and squeezes and cool summer breezes,

and a knife in your back.

 Blood rushes down

and spirits rising up. 

Boo!

The letter X (Alias unknown)

How many of you chanted this stupid, sadistic rhyme on your friend's back as a child or had it done to you? Who writes this stuff anyway? It's kinda creepy having someone fist your back and call it a knife. Wouldn't it be better to rake invisible leaves or something? Or how about a good old fashion back rub? If you have to write poetry with the back rub, maybe you could quote Charlie Sheen on your back saying something profound like, "Boom, crush. Night, losers. Winning, duh." Uh, maybe not.

Here is my new and improved version of X Marks the Spot. If you don't like it, WRITE YOUR OWN!

X draws a line

With a vine and a vine

and a great wiggly scratch.

With fingernails while you yak

but don't "cool breeze" slobber on my back! 

With a palm on the shoulder

Not too hard, I'm getting older.

And forget the spirits because that's just plain weird.

If I can write a post for X, I can write anything. See you tomorrow when we explore real life yoyos (That's slang for foolish people). 

Wilberfoss #AtoZ

No. My son's name is not really Wilberfoss. At least that's not the name we gave him at birth.

Not his Birth Name/ Not his Actual Photo

It all started when Facebook circulated a "Rate Your Parents" app that was good for a few laughs. By clicking the allow button, Facebook would analyze your name, tally how many folks from the year you were born were given the same name, and give your parents a score (A-F) on how creative they were in the naming process. So Daniel, the child with the eighth most popular name from the year he was born, decided to rate his parents, AKA us.

Next I knew, he participated then sent me a Facebook message, "Mama! You got an F."

I replied, "Studies show that kids with more common names are better accepted in society."

"Studies show you got an F."

Fine. Daniel wants a creative name, I'd find him one. I searched name sites to see what I could discover. Then I added my own unique twist to the name "Wilbur." Viola, Wilberfoss!

"You want a creative name. Okay, son. From now on your name is Wilberfoss."

Daniel, err Wilberfoss, changed his Facebook name and we received an A+! All would be great except Facebook refused to allow him to change his name back to Daniel. So, almost two years later, my son is still named Wilberfoss. Even some of his friends have started to call him by that A+ name.

That should teach him to complain.

Tune in tomorrow for the letter X. Now what am I supposed to do with the letter X?

V is for Vic #AtoZ

Vic, my husband's goofy friend, is always good for a laugh (but usually they're of the dirty variety). His  poor wife has been trying to lose 170 pounds for years, but he still hangs around. He'd drive me to drink, but this woman is a saint through all his "take my wife, please take my wife jokes." If she didn't laugh along, she'd probably slug him.

On New Year's Eve, Vic reported that 30% of New Year's Eve accidents involve alcohol. If that's the case, 70% do not involve liquor, so we have a better chance of getting home safely if we drink. Most recently he told my husband that our daughter didn't need to bring her checkbook with her to Prague. After all, there are plenty of Cheks there. Pretty funny, Vic.

The most outrageous Vic-ism happened on his fiftieth birthday party. He had it at McDonalds! Each of us received a Happy Meal complete with a toy of the boy or girl variety. He had balloons, streamers, and even a clown performing magic tricks. Although it's been a few years since his party, I still remember the double takes from those passing by. I could actually read their minds. They'd pass by, spot the balloon, think it was a five at first, then double take when they realized it said, "Fifty." Only Vic!

Uncle Pancreas #AtoZ #atozchallenge

I love teaching gifted kids because they have a sense of humor unlike the kind one would find in children from a regular classroom. Years back, my students wrote and acted in a play that had the adults in the audience rolled over in stitches while most children thought the skit was "stupid." My young Einsteins  obviously hit upon adult humor that was so far over the heads of the normal sixth grade class, that age peers didn't enjoy it. Only one kid in the class found their skit funny. He was the child on my referral list who I placed a few weeks later. Yep! I knew this student was gifted when I saw him chuckling with the adults.

To illustrate some quick wit from gifted students, here is a recap of a scene that took place in one of my classes some time back.


circa 2000: Intellectually Gifted kids provide interesting material. The names have been changed to protect the guilty.

     "February means Black History Month, so here's a game of Jeopardy to test your knowledge of famous African Americans." I divided the class into teams. 

     Meredith upped the interesting factor of our game when she said, "Politicians for fifty."

     I flipped the card and read, "This General currently serves as Secretary of State."

     "Who is Collin Powell?"

Call Me Uncle Pancreas!

     "The name is Colin!" Jason snapped.

     "Uh, gross. I don't like names that sound like body parts, so I'm calling him Collin."

     "Really? Why don't you like body part names?" Jason said. "I have an Uncle Pancreas."

Tune in tomorrow for the letter V, which is all about Vic (one of the funniest guys I know).

Eat Your Gestapo (Six Sentence Sunday)

As part of Six Sentence Sunday, http://www.sixsunday.blogspot.com, I've been challenged to post six lines of writing today. These six lines are from my unpublished novel, Being Bompsy Carleffa. Ben and Fiso, the crime boss father who Ben had just met, have a bit of a communication breakdown at the dinner table. I've edited my work from its original version to fit the six sentence challenge.

            After Gil placed a tomato-base soup in front of each of us, I blew on the spoon and took a sip of cold liquid. All this money, and these people couldn’t heat the food.

            “Do you like the gazpacho?” Fiso asked.

            I dropped my spoon on the table and wondered why he'd mention the Gestapo? What was he, a modern day Nazi? Sick; this guy’s really sick!

Thanks for tuning in. I'll catch you on Monday when I explore the letter U and Uncle Pancreas!

Taunting Siblings #AtoZ

Most people know that the majority of U.S. presidents were first born children, but I bet you didn't know that most comedians were born last. So, since I'm four positions down from the presidency, I guess I'll continue to write my humor blog. Today's post features those taunting siblings that I'm lucky enough to have grown up with.

Sweet, Defenseless, Little Girl 
Being Viciously Attacked by Older Sibling

Being the baby of the family had it's pros and cons. On the bright side, no one made me wear dresses to school everyday while insisting I was too young to shave my legs. Also, I didn't have to beg, pray, or bake a German Chocolate Cake to get my ears pierced. I simply asked once and went to a gynecologist to get it done. You read that right. Twelve year old me sitting among the pregnant women and taking in evil glances from assuming folks. I also got to go to camp, France, and anywhere else I wanted because my sibs had broken in my parents big time.

On the negative side, I wore a powder-blue, polyester gym suit that said, "BEP" on the front because $7.00 was too much to pay for a pretty red one with my own initials. Plus, four positions down the birth order meant I had to search hard to find the one accomplishment that no one had done before. Would you believe I found it in sports? How original! But worst of all, everyone remembers all my little kid embarrassments, but I have nothing on them! Except the ability to report their various abuses.

Don't Look Up, Barb!

 Barb used to pay me 20¢ to go to the A & P store after school everyday. I'd buy one candy bar for her and get whatever I wanted for myself. After five years of that, we both weighed in at a whopping 470 pounds, but boy was that chocolate great! As for taunting me, she wasn't totally innocent either. She once backed me into a corner with a whip she'd won at the carnival. It's okay. After I fetched her a bone in my mouth, she left me alone.

Look at those red tights!

As for Bev, she reads my blog so I shouldn't tell you how she pinched one of my boobs and told me that it would be smaller than the other one. Thanks to Bev, I have to special order all my bras. One side's an A while the other is a Double D. Dang! Dang! Why'd she pinch me? She used to love to push my gullible button too. In fact, she told me she was going to give me a shot and pulled out a bottle of alcohol. That's okay too. I simply fainted and Mom screamed, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?"

Even though these three have sometimes caused me grief, I feel sorry for only children who never learn how to be good fighters. So this one's dedicated to those taunting siblings. How did your sibs torture you?

I'll see you tomorrow when I participate in the Six Sentence Sunday challenge. http://www.sixsunday.blogspot.com