chou chope

this year i resolve to work on everyone else's problems. here i would like to make some suggestions for everyone else to work on and i know i'll be a happier person if you can just make it so.

1. non-blondes: what is with the brown haired folk that refer to themselves as blonde because they were when they were 5 years old? look in a mirror. if your hair is not blonde NOW then stop referring to yourself as blonde. it indicates that you derive some sort of self worth by virtue of hair color, and if you're not 5 anymore, it's time to get over it. enough.

2. traffic regulators: drive in the right lane, all the time. pass on the left. the department of public safety isn't going to give you a commendation for clogging up the passing lane because you feel the need to set the going speed on your own. and it just might get you hurt, my own road rage is growing increasingly rampant due to your fuckwad antics.

3. blog whores: my fucking eyes. i love the blog world, for the most part. there are a couple of blogs i read with great regularity simply to hate on the bitches. i even call blight up from time to time to hate them with me. they use the internet as a place to post their nudey shots and dildo stories and they lure others to their sites in the comments. i know men dig this, but i do not. if your life is so freaking pathetic that you have decided to flirt with nameless faceless men on the internet, you are begging for disaster. funny how often they mix stories of how their kids are fucked up with their own stories of indiscretion. hmmm, i wonder why?? have some respect for yourself. if we were all supermodels, it would be another story. but mostly i see what equates to the size 24 woman with thighs and gut spilling out of the short shorts at walmart. heave, ladies. respect yourself. if you want to flirt, be my guest. but how bout sending an email or an instant message instead? the internet already has a huge white trash element, no reason to try and excel in this venue. discretion. try it, you might find it works better than giving it all away at the sale barn for free.

ok, ok. that's all i resolve for everyone else now. but think of this exercise as a meme for me. post the little changes you to would like to see in the comments or at your own place and link this spot. and if you think i'm off my rocker, let me have it. afterall, i resolve to fix nothing about myself. i'm simply too fucked up and i really wouldn't know where to start.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, BLOGPEEPS!! i love ya so consider yourself smooched at midnight.

alex, "no"

true, "you have to, i said the magic word-please"

alex, "no, and that's not the magic word"

true, "then what is the magic word?"

alex, "open sesame"

uhhhhh, ok, and....

me, "alex, stop kicking the back of my seat, that hurts"

alex, "yes, ma'am, and noooooooo thank you"

the vacation visitation impeded my blogrhythms, i'm sore to say the least. i can barely tawk. have had lots of post ideas swimming around in my head, sadly most of them drowned from lack of oxygen. hope to revive some of the topics and be back spewing nonsense at you with no shame soon.

oh, and the vacation was sublime, the scenery unrivaled and the company was top notch. very memorable. but like a short nap, it was just enough estatic wonderment to make me a downright cranky bitch on my return. just enough fun to make me realize how truly mundane my life really is.

further, i'm suffering from a santa hangover. too many back to back late nights and returning to work for the end of the year freak out has been less than exhilirating.

thanks again for coming by precious peeps. i'm back to my usual twenty or so regular readers which is more doable for me. don't get me wrong, i love the linkage, but the pressure to perform makes me impotent. performance anxiety is such a bitch.

me, "i don't think that's a meteor, i think it's an airplane."

alex, "no, it's a meteor."

me, "alex, it's a plane, there are a lot of planes in the sky."

alex, "there are a lot of planets in the sky. it's a meteor."

me, "fine, it's a meteor."

me, "uh, of course, about a hundred and fifty thousand."

client, "whew, you know, i'm counting on you to take care of things when i go crazy."

we'd head west out of htown on i-10 and take old 36 all the way. we would see towns like brenham, temple, gatesville, hamilton, rising star...this was our ride, only ours was doo doo brown. the mercury cougar, ain't she a beaut?

see that back window? my brother and i would lie side by side in the ginormous back window ledge, staring up at stars our city eyes had never seen. seat belts? what were seat belts back then? this was the glorious seventies, the populace was invincible.

all the way, magic in the car. my mother, driving along, pointing out santa birds. in our family, santa had a fleet of birds that would fly back to the north pole and report to santa as to which kids were doing what, progress reports to help finalize the good and bad lists. birds being everywhere, we were in constant view of the little narcs. and although my brother and i could never get along for eight hours straight, we surely tried. by the time we were on that long drive to abilene, we had very few days to perform for the santa birds.

i remember a sort of early religious confusion. it's all about Christ's birth, but do you pray to Santa? hmmm. somehow the two great mysterious men shared the most pivotal birthday of the year. i never understood the connection, but i prayed to both just in case.

despite the rust and danger of the seventies, i'd give my right eye to be back there this year. riding in that window with my brother, begging him to show me the big dipper before father sleep took hold.

first, from grandpa pinhead, the 7 X 7:

the holidays are about family, and this year mine has grown exponentially. early this year, i discovered eric's blog. he was bookmarked in my random crap drawer (no offense daddy-o, but i was too ignorant to know what i had found.) pretty soon i was frequenting the place and soon after that, i basically orphaned myself on his doorstep.

fast forward to present, it's my first christmas in the gig-a-gene pool. unreal. i'm as tore up as a tot. this year, thanks to the blog world, i've met some of the most interesting people i've ever known, i've read many things that i never imagined i'd see in print, and i've learned so much about nothing, it boggles the mind.

blog family, like a real family, teach you many things. they nurture and torture the same as well. take linky love, for instance. a concept that my childhood blog brain couldn't grasp. that kind of love is a double edged sword. hey, no doubt someone in your blog family loves you when they put up a link or drop you a comment that trumps your post. it's like you brought home an A+. come home from work beaten and blown to find uncle denny or sister feisty liked something you wrote? you inspired your inspiration? nice feeling.

then there's the deep dark family secrets. c'mon, if you're the spawn of a normal dysfunctional american family then i bet you have some secrets tucked away in the family shed. we do also in the blog fam. tales of turbulence from days gone by, things we don't speak of or let on to the outside world. a family joined by written word that keeps some touchy issues out of print.

and then there's reunion time. blogmeets, they are the shite. a chance to talk til dawn with your identical cousin, or get a ribbing from one of your crazy uncles. it's all good.

thanks for christmas present, my blog bretheren and my silent lurkers. you have absolutely made this year more memorable and more meaningful that anything i expected to experience when google cast me your way.

for instance, as children we would send our grandparents our school pictures. my grandfather would call me each and every year and say, "oh thank you so much for the pictures! we put them out in the garden and we don't have rats anymore." thanks, grandaddy, glad i could help.

my grandfather was a cattleman. days before i was born, a calf was born on his farm. knowing what i was to be named, he named the new calf "chou". when my mom called with a progress report, he let her know the good news. a new calf was born, chou be thy name. so in the family line, i was technically named after a cow, however beloved. my grandfather forever fought to make it a point of pride for me.

i found this picture in his desk drawer this past weekend. the back of it says in my grandfather's handwriting, "Chou, Nov 25 1971, weight 355 lbs." proof of his ongoing brag war with my mother. just look how big his baby is growing, they do grow up so fast.

the joke never tired. all through the years, when ever my name would come up, my grandfather would pause in his silly pensive way and sigh, "she was the kindest heffer i ever knew, gave pure sweet milk that one."

can you imagine a less feminine fate? i may have been raised a city girl, but damn it, i'm livestock down deep. what's in a name, you ask, dear friends? this one's all about small west texas towns and red dirt and laugh lines, oh, and the ability to eat and shit yourself at the same time.

on this day, our darling sweet wonderful brier patch was born. the man is preferred stock, people. besides being a great blogger, he has a giant heart. although the women flock to him like white on rice, he has a wife whom he adores and she seems to adore us (blogger clingons).

sammy, happy birthday! i love you, man. you put the catdaddy in my blogmeets and are a true great friend. see ya in january, i'll spank you then.