Fat Tuesday

Welcome to the Carnival season, the day of Mardi Gras! I'm sitting in my cube with a multicolored tiara on my head, chunky beads around my neck, and a bracelet of ribbons around my wrist. The only thing missing is the drink in my hand. Here are some interesting Mardi Gras facts to help start the holiday along.

Q. What does Mardi Gras mean?
A. Mardi Gras translates to "Fat Tuesday" in French. Traditionally, it's the last day for Catholics to indulge, before Ash Wednesday starts the sober weeks of fasting that come with Lent. A lot of people believe that Mardi Gras started as a pagan or Roman holiday.

Q. What do the colors (Purple, Green, and Gold) symbolize?
A. Purple= Justice. Green= Faith. Gold= Power.

Q. Why do they throw things from the floats?
A. Throwing things from the floats began sporadically in the 1800's. They began as bon bons and other simple treats. People in the crowd would sometimes throw back bags of flour that would explode on the float or the people riding in them. This is illegal today. Throws eventually evolved from candy to whistles, beads, cups, and doubloons.

Q. What is the most prized "Throw?"
A. Zulu Coconuts.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
(While at grocery store)
Hoop: Ugh.
Tink: What?
Hoop: Cow tail.
Tink: Did you want that for dinner tomorrow?
Hoop: Are you crazy? I'm not eating anything's poop shoot!

Daily Hoop Conversation 2:
Hoop: Take a bite of this ice cream.
Tink: No thank you. I'm fine.
Hoop: *Pouts* Please?
Tink: *Sweetly* No.
Hoop: *Pouts* Please?
Tink: *Sweetly* No.
Hoop: *Pouts* Please?
Tink: NO!
...
Hoop: Wow. So I guess the honeymoon period is over then huh?

Daily Hoop Conversation 3:
Tink: I saw a preview for a show that you're going to love.
Hoop: Oh yeah?
Tink: It's like American Idol, only for inventors.
Hoop: That sounds cool. So, how do they eliminate each other?
Tink: I have no idea.
Hoop: Maybe they have to keep inventing new things?
Tink: That would be kind of tricky.
Hoop: Or maybe they have to destroy the competition? That would be what my invention did.
Tink: Your invention would be something that destroyed the other inventions?
Hoop: Yeah, I'd call it my "Winning Machine."

Photo Diary

An Old Story: My Mom met my her future husband on a blind date that I'd arranged. When they met he had an entirely different last name than the one he currently uses. It wasn't a very attractive name. It also wasn't his birth name. It was the name he'd been given after an adoption from his stepdad. When Papa Bear and my Mom decided to wed, they agreed on changing their last name to something entirely new. Or maybe the better term would be "recycled." They decided to use Papa Bear's original last name, one of deep Scottish origin.

The wedding was gorgeous. There were bagpipers and men in kilts. The women wore Celtic dresses and my Mom shouldered a sash in their clan colors. Papa Bear was a bit lost before he met my Mom, a military man with no purpose outside a government job. That day he gained a family and a passion. In researching his heritage, he became aware of himself in ways he'd never thought of before. Suddenly, he had a history. He dove into his Scottish lineage, practicing the art of ax throwing. This is what led us to the Scottish Highland Games on Saturday.

Scottish Highland Games:


Since this was to be a family event, all participants wearing kilts were required to wear undergarments. I would have hated to be the person in charge of checking.


Papa Bear, counting the paces from target to throwing line. This was the first year he ever competed. He got second place.


Hoop, trying his hand at ax throwing. He was beat out by the man who won first place.


Mmmm, Spotted Dick. Get your heads out of the gutter. It's just sponge pudding.


Hoop's view from the car. Lovely.... The little shit.

The Church Of Cool

Hoop greeted me at the door yesterday with, "What's for dinner?" I must not have looked too thrilled when I answered, "Fish." He quickly offered Boston Market instead, one of my many weaknesses. The only problem with Boston Market is that the closest one is forty minutes away. So did we head in that direction? No. We headed in the opposite direction. "We haven't really explored Palm Coast, maybe there's a Boston Market there?" I rubbed my grouchy stomach. "The last time I was in Palm Coast, all they had was a McDonalds."

But I'm a sucker for adventures so I didn't complain. We hit Palm Coast and I was pleasantly surprised at how developed the city had become in the last few years. We Oooh'd and Ahhhh'd over the Walmart. The WALMART for Christ Sake. We're way too easily entertained. But It soon became apparent that not only was there no Boston Market in Palm Coast, there really wasn't anywhere else that we wanted to eat either. We decided to go back the way we came.

Hoop quickly pulled into a packed parking lot, looking for a place to turn around. "You're going in the 'Out' way," I called out to him as we swerved in between parked cars. "What is this place anyway?" I look up at the pointed roof. "A church." I slunk into my seat as we passed beneath the overhang that protected the front doors. Six or seven people in dresses and slacks mingled to our left. I was mortified. We were going the wrong way and at break neck speeds. "They're drinking!" Hoop cried out as we passed them. I craned my neck back. But it was impossible to see what kind of bottles they were all holding. "Drinking as in drinking?" "Michelob Light to be exact."

I stared at the church as we passed by it. Through the open blinds I could make out the neons, blazing above a crowded counter. "There's a bar in there babe!" Hoop slowed the car and stared for a moment before moving on. "Welcome to Palm Coast, the home of... The Church Of Cool." We both sat in silence for a minute, digesting the information. Suddenly we both turned to each other and burst into laughter. Hoop and I have always had an inside joke that we're going to create "The Church Of Cool." There's no reason or details to this plan, just a catchy name that we like to throw out during religious conversations.

Hoop: We could have a bar in our "Church Of Cool."
Tink: Or we could simply open a bar and call it "The Church Of Cool." You could give fake sermons before the start of every evening while the drunks file in.
Hoop: That is SO sacrilegious.
Tink: Well no shit! Isn't that the whole point of this joke?
Hoop: Yeah, but...
Tink: Can you imagine all the people that would picket outside our doors? We'd have to clean the egg off our walls every morning.
Hoop: I still think we should stick with the church idea.
...
Tink: So how is that not sacrilegious?

Have a great weekend everyone!!

Posting Flunky

Progress Report: $17.50 saved. 82 cigarettes not smoked. Thinking about not smoking has become an obsession for all three of us. It's life consuming and irritating. We're going to go cold turkey this weekend, no more half cigarettes on the days we let the cravings win. Mom is on the verge of giving up. The lack of concentration is effecting her work. Hoop is still smoking 5-7 cigarettes a day. He promises he'll quit this weekend. I feel like a house with unstable walls. If two fall I'm not sure the last one will be able to stand alone.

Five Minutes Of Random Thoughts:
Start. This soda is FLAT. Why does Dr. Pepper taste a little like Prunes? I can't get "Daughter" by Pearl Jam to stop repeating through my head. I'd love to be the person who comes up with names for all the new make up colors. Maybe they have a program that randomly generates them instead? How many names can you possibly substitute "Red" with? Blush, blood, rose, cherry, flame, magenta, ruby, scarlet, rust, flush. Yeah, I'm out. It's not even lunch time? I think they should let me drink at work. I'd be a lot happier and probably a lot more proficient. It's not like I'm going anywhere. Unless this cube suddenly sprouts wheels. I just want a window. A fucking window! I should draw one. Maybe then they'd get the message. Or commit me. Do they have cable in psychiatric wards? WHY am I still drinking this flat soda? Stop.

Random Question:
Q. What the hell is a Funnybone?
A. The Funnybone isn't a bone at all. It's a place where a nerve crosses the long bone near your elbow. That bone is called the Humerus. Hence the nickname.

Random Disorder I Wouldn't Mind Having: So it's not as cool as the "Spontaneous Orgasms" chick on GA last Sunday. But this one is pretty interesting nonetheless.

Synesthesia: A condition in which people have difficulty distinguishing between various sensory inputs. This can result in the ability to hear colors, taste shapes, smell words or any multitude of variations from the above. Some people even see letters, words, and numbers in specific colors. The word "apple" may be viewed as purple. The number "4" as burnt orange.

Different people with synesthesia will almost always disagree on their perceptions. One synesthete may see the letter "q" as being red while another will see it as being lime green. Carol Crane actually feels music. She feels violins on her face and trumpets on the back of her neck. One adolescent boy would assume different poses according to different words. J. Wannerton thinks his house tastes of mashed potato and his town, like fruit gum. The world is a confusing place.

Not ADvisable

Progress Report: $14.00 saved. 66 cigarettes not smoked. My head keeps telling me I want them, but my mouth is telling me they taste like ass now. It's funny. I used to tell people, "I smoke because I enjoy it. I don't feel the need to quit." I was so convinced this was a CHOICE. I never understood how hooked I'd become, how hard this would be, or how much I'd made my life revolve around them. I will be so happy when it's six months from now and I don't have to feel like this.

Thank you Folioweekly for once again providing the blog fodder.

I Saw You:

BB'S BISTRO 1/28. Another option! I said, "Water with lemon or lime." You said, "I love it! She gives me options." You gave me just what I wanted: water with lime and magic. I'm shy, but you're beautiful. You're beautiful... It's true! She's quoting James Blunt lyrics and cheesing over a waiter who was probably just trying to get a decent tip. Where the hell's my "Clueless" stamp?

COZY BEAR, FLAME WEAR. You: Large tattooed man driving silver Toyota Prius with bumper sticker, "Yellowstone or Bust." Me: Listening to Paula Abdul on my iPod, eating bagel with mayo. We spoke at F.H. Riley's; I noticed your perfect diction. Grrrr!! Flame wear? Yellowstone? Bagel with MAYO?! The whole ad offends my sensibility.

CHEF W/ SHOE OBSESSION. At the market, me: very important person checking out pork chop. You: overly bruised chef scoping out the mackerel, quite faking the funk. Make it a Bic Mac day everyday. Besides, there are worse things you could do. I want to know, how does one fake the funk? Either you're funky or you're not. And where does the "shoe obsession" come into play? Why was the chef bruised? What's up with the McDonald reference? Was he a chef at McDonalds? Can they really be called chefs? I mean, all they do is heat up pre-packaged food all day. What's worse than that? Fucking ad.

Men Seeking Women:

ROMANTIC ROADKILL. 49-year old divorced Serge A. Storms wannabe seeking a special Sharon Rhodes to share some midlife mayhem. Take a chance, I'll bring the "Fix-a-Flat." Who the hell are these people? I no longer think Google is all knowing.

KNIGHT DAZED. Armor rusted! Galahad bought horse! Left castle for mobile home kingdom. Single white male, 48, 6', 205, non-smoker seeks totally liberated, sensual, shapely, funny, adventurous, female for dangerous liaisons! "Aye sire, 'tis a wickedly wonderful wench I seek!" Me thinks ye need to lay off the mead sire.

Women Seeking Men:

BAD BOY FOR BAD GIRL. I'm a petite, easygoing, middle-aged Mom. I'm hard-working, energetic, and a social drinker. Looking for non-possessive and spontaneous man who is physically fit and financially secure. Rugged preferred. I never knew "Bad girl" and "middle-aged Mom" were synonyms!

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Hoop: What's going on at the library this late at night?
Tink: An orgy.
Hoop: *Chokes on spit* Oh yeah?
Tink: They all have to dress up like authors.
Hoop: That could be interesting.
Tink: I'd want to be Faulkner.
Hoop: I'd want to be that one author.
Tink: Which one author?
Hoop: The really famous one that lived in Florida.
Tink: Um, ok?
Hoop: He had a six toed cat.
Tink: A six toed cat? I have NO earthly idea babe.
...
Tink: Hemingway?
Hoop: Yeah, that's it!
Tink: Wow, lucky guess.
Hoop: We'd be Faulkner and Hemingway.
Tink: You realize there is no library orgy of authors right?

Daily Hoop Conversation 2:
Hoop: I wish sperm was as addictive as cigarettes.
Tink: I bet you do.
Hoop: "What? You want to give me head AGAIN?"
Tink: Dream on.
Hoop: "But I'm tired! Oh OK. If you insist."
Tink: Shut up.
Hoop: "But after that we have to go to work, OK? We have to leave the house sometime."

Mixed Nuts

Progress Report: $10.50 saved. 49.5 cigarettes not smoked. My tongue is a little burned out from all the mints, but the cravings are still manageable. Although I'm finding it a little tougher today to convince myself that I'm a nonsmoker and not just a smoker who's not smoking. Mom's doing about as well as I am, although Hoop relapsed a bit and smoked seven yesterday. He's aiming to half that today. Have I mentioned how much this sucks?

Would You Rather?
1. Have your cell phone ring function set on "Airhorn" or "Taser?" Airhorn
2. Laugh only at inappropriate times (funerals etc) or have a color changing nose that declares what mood you're in? Color changing nose
3. Watch a porno with your parents or starring them? With
4. Always hear the thoughts of everyone around you or have everyone around you always hear your thoughts? Always hear my thoughts
5. Have the ability to fly or live for 200 years? Fly
Now you.

What Big Teeth You Have: Last night Hoop made me watch Ravenous, a movie about cannibalism. He chose to pop it in at dinner, assuring me that all the gory stuff came later. I should have known better. I had just taken a bite of chicken when suddenly the screen was filled with bleeding heads and images of people tearing into bloody slabs of beef. I sat transfixed, the unchewed chicken like a stone in my mouth. Hoop quickly lunged for the remote. "Uh... Maybe we should put this in after dinner?"

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Hoop: What did you think of the movie?
Tink: Really gross. I'll never look at steak the same again.
Hoop: But you liked it didn't you?
Tink: Yeah, it was pretty good.
...
Hoop: So... You want to go next door and eat the neighbors?

Hell and Back

Five things I need to unload:
1. Thank you all for your endless support! I can't possibly express how much it helped this weekend.
2. You'll all be glad to know that Hoop is still alive.
3. But now he starts every conversation with, "I'm not trying to piss you off."
4. Quitting smoking is the hardest thing I've ever had to go through. It damn near drove me insane the first day.
5. I know this because I had thoughts like, "I wish they made a cigarette perfume. Then I could psych myself out by smelling like I just had a cigarette."'

I'm not CURED. I still need a cigarette around noon, about the time my nerves start to unravel. But that's 90% better than I thought I'd be able to do after the traumatic start I had on Saturday. Yesterday morning I was a blubbering mess, wailing that I was never going to feel happy again. I'll be honest, I had been cocky on Friday. I thought it would be so much easier than it turned out. I NEVER anticipated the emotional low I would hit.

I went out and bought a pack of cigarettes after that. Hoop and I both smoked one and I trashed the pack. That was 12:30 yesterday. I haven't needed one since. We went to my Mom's for the day. I laughed and felt happier than I had in days. It gave me hope that I CAN do this. I CAN feel happy again. I got my libido back last night, much to Hoop's relief. It's a start. I'm not going to say this will be a cake walk from here on out. It may possibly get worse. But for the moment I'm confident. Today is the only day that matters today.

Tongue Twisters: Evidently when you quit smoking, the pathway from your brain to your mouth malfunctions temporarily. Here are some things that were said over the weekend.

Acadobe: Adobe
Slulshing: Slushie
Ninernet: Internet
Nodem: Modem
Adcademic: Academic
Coffic: Coffee
Morote: Remote

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Hoop: Isn't a Mule the product of a Horse and a Donkey?
Tink: Uh huh, and a Liger is the product of a Lion and a Tiger.
Hoop: There's no such thing as a Liger! They made that up on Napoleon Dynamite.
Tink: No, they're real. I think the name flips depending on whether the Lion was the Mom or the Dad.
Hoop: What, like a Tigon?
Tink: That's it!
Hoop: Oh my God. Whatever.
Tink: I'm serious!
Hoop: Are there Pultures too?
Tink: Pultures?
Hoop: Yeah, a Pigeon and a Vulture.
Tink: Um, no.
Hoop: But surely there's a Cog (Cat/Dog).
Tink: No, those are Dats.
Hoop: Or Dots?
...
Hoop: How about a Crocogator (Crocodile/Alligator)?
Tink: Or an Allidile?
(Drives by a Bald Eagle and Vulture, sitting on the side of the road together)
Tink: Did I just-
Hoop: -yeah, you saw that correctly.
Tink: I'll shut up now.
...
Hoop: Definitely Veagles.

Farewell Friend

Smoke 'em if you got 'em: I'm throwing away the ashtrays tonight and cleaning out my car. The thought of tomorrow gives me an anxiety attack. Mom is in full blown panic mode. Hoop, ever the stoic one, is acting as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. He's been a lot more distracted though, smoking as if the world were ending tomorrow and not just our life as smokers. We've all made pacts not to take anything personally for the next two weeks. Still... I'm hiding all the knives.

Dear Cigarette;

It's been the best of times and the worst of times. I knew our union had to end eventually. You're killing me. The first time we met, I was partying with your cousin Mary Jane. She was a wild gal, always getting me into trouble. Meeting you was like a breath of fresh air. Well, maybe not fresh. But unlike your cousin, I could hang with you and not end up forgetting where the hell I parked the car. You showed me around town and hooked me up with all your underage rebel supporters. Knowing you made us feel cool.

Over time our friendship aged. I became dependent on you. You were always my first contact when things got stressful or complicated. Somehow you always made me feel better. But I've come to realize that this relationship isn't healthy. I'm constantly giving you money and in repayment you make me sick. I light your fire and you make me stink. You're an outcast in restaurants, only accepted at bars. When I drink with you, you lose your head and burn the people around you. It's time to put this friendship to rest.

Please don't show up at my house again. Don't try to get to me through Hoop, with all your seductive ploys. Don't use our mutual friend, Coffee, to remind me of how much I adored our gatherings. Let me mourn the loss without you creeping in while I am weak. It's OVER. Thank you for all the friends you've introduced me to while hanging out on breaks. Thank you for bringing Hoop and I together. Fortunately, we have much more in common then that now. It's been an experience I'll never forget.

Sincerely;
Tink

Daily Hoop Conversation:
(Hoop limps along as we walk down town)
Tink: What's wrong with you?
Hoop: I pulled a muscle while at work.
Tink: Aw babe!
Hoop: I'm OK.
Tink: You don't look OK.
Hoop: I'm fine. Quit looking at me like that.
Tink: Like what?
Hoop: With pity. I have my pride you know.
Tink: Don't talk to me about PRIDE, buster. I've smelled your shit.
...
Tink: What are you doing?
Hoop: I'm trying to get away from you.
Tink: Haha. You can limp but you cannot hide!

Friday Funnies: Check out this site, detailing "The Worst Jobs In History." Any one of these will give you a newfound appreciation for your current job. It could always be worse. You could be a Leech Collector. Bleh.

Have a great weekend all!

Onion Soup

In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect." ~Alice Walker
Some images don't need to be doctored.

50 More things than you care to know 2:
51. I own a dozen different journals.
52. All of which are much too pretty to write in.
53. People on diets make me want to eat.
54. I can never get all the dishes of a meal to finish cooking at the same time.
55. When I was little I thought I could control the wind.
56. I sat in the yard and tried to make Tornados.
57. At "Pioneer Day Camp" they ran out of Pilgrim costumes and had to make me into an Indian.
58. My Indian name was, "Running Snow Rabbit."
59. All the little boys pretended to shoot at me.
60. Fabric softener makes me break out in hives.
61. Actually it's pimples. But I lie and say they're hives.
62. My grandfather used to pull his dentures out as a gag.
63. So at age four, I thought everyone's teeth were removable.
64. My mouth tastes like boiled eggs when I'm sick.
65. I think other peoples mouths taste like onions when they're horny.
66. I'm fluent in American Sign Language.
67. My family is a Matriarch.
68. I'm terrified to learn how to drive a stick shift.
69. I don't know how to play any musical instruments.
70. Unless you count air guitar, air violin, and air piano.
71. I get bored easily with skills I've already accomplished.
72. I once had a boyfriend who bought me a gas mask as a Birthday present.
73. I have trouble with remembering names.
74. But I'll forever remember a face I've seen only once.
75. I collect Paleolithic Goddess statues.
76. A guy once accused me of witchcraft because of them.
77. Black leather furniture makes me feel scuzzy.
78. Chunky wood furniture makes me feel lazy.
79. I love the smell of books.
80. I hate Macaroni and Cheese.
81. I enjoy the pain of life.
82. It reminds me that I'm still alive to feel it.
83. My worst fear is dying and not being remembered.
84. I only enjoy the rain when I'm going to bed.
85. I used to have a Spanish ghost in my car.
86. He would switch the radio to Spanish stations.
87. Hoop and I call each other and pretend to me mentally disabled people.
88. I can't decide if it's more horrible that we do it or that I think it's funny.
89. When I was eleven I volunteered at a "Therapeutic Horse Ranch for the Disabled."
90. They said I was too young. I asked them every day if I could join. Two weeks later they let me in.
91. The memory makes me smell hay and granola bars.
92. I hate brushing my teeth.
93. But I do it four times a day.
94. People who don't vote bug me.
95. That dangly thing in the back of my throat (Uvula) bugs me more. What the hell is it for?
96. I used to fantasize about taking a bath in milk.
97. I'm confused as to why I thought this would be a good idea.
98. I love taking pictures of strangers.
99. My favorite is of a bum with two ferrets.
100. I think the journey of life is more important than the purpose of it.

I'm sorry this is a shorty. We've got corporate people in the building and I have to pretend to care. I'll give you double the fix later. ;)

Layers of the Onion

50 More things than you care to know:
(Dedicated to Mrs. Harridan, Teebs, and Mamalujo1 who gave me the idea.)

1. I can't pee if I think someone is listening.
2. I'm 5'4", 118lbs, and 23 years old.
3. I once let my Mom bleach my hair.
4. It turned out highlighter yellow and glowed in the dark.
5. My greatest dream is to work in Graphic Design.
6. Whatever I do, I want to work at home.
7. I think I look like an alien in all of my baby pictures.
8. I used to wear an eyepatch and coke-bottle glasses.
9. I remember my dreams almost every night.
10. No one in them ever has a face.
11. I was raped when I was 15 by my best friend's brother.
12. I run into him every time I'm having a bad day.
13. I believe Karma likes to fuck with my head a lot.
14. I consider my brothers to be my children too.
15. I think yellow Pez tastes how Pledge Wood Cleaner smells.
16. My Mom and I made up a game plan if I became 26 and was still single.
17. The plan involved going to another country, getting knocked up, and then coming back home.
18. I told Hoop this on our first meeting. He was horrified.
19. I've been told I have a sharp tongue, am vulgar, and a prude.
20. I've also been told I am wise, tenderhearted, and open.
21. I worry too much.
22. Six guys have tried to label me "The One."
23. I only ever loved one of them.
24. Blue, Green, and Red all sooth me.
25. Yellow and Orange make me feel ill.
26. I wish I had wings.
27. When I was in 7th grade I came to the conclusion that my purpose in life was to help people move on from the things that kept them back.
28. Some days I still believe this.
29. Some days I wonder if this is just my excuse to help and then leave.
30. I sound like Betty Rubble when I laugh.
31. My unknown addictions are chapstick, stolen pens, and making lists.
32. I once dumped a guy because he wouldn't blink both eyes at once.
33. Clowns, spiders, and knives scare me.
34. Mimes, snakes and guns do not.
35. Every year at Christmas I secretly dump presents on a single parent's doorstep.
36. My least favorite holiday is New Years.
37. I refuse to wear matching underwear.
38. I believe every woman should own a vibrator.
39. I own four.
40. Laughter is my favorite medicine.
41. Too many people in my life have been unfunny.
42. I'm scared of heights.
43. But I love rollercoasters.
44. My eyes turn bright green after I cry.
45. I own seven pairs of black pants.
46. When I was eight I wanted a brief case.
47. Now I have one and I never use it.
48. It depresses me that I'll never be able to read all there is to read.
49. Hoop would like to be immortal. I love the fact that we're not.
50. I don't regret anything that has happened in my life.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Hoop: You want some ice cream?
Tink: I need ice cream like I need a hole in the head.
Hoop: But you DO need the holes in your head. You already have five.
Tink: I have eight holes.
Hoop: Eight?
Tink: *Points to ears*
Hoop: -one, two.
Tink: *Points to eyes*
Hoop: Those aren't holes!
Tink: Yes they are. They're just filled holes.
Hoop: It can't be a hole if it's filled.
Tink: Yes it ca-
Hoop: -fine, whatever. You have eight holes in your head.
...
Tink: Ok, that just might have been the strangest conversation EVER.

Stupid Cupid

The Scoop: Hoop and I were supposed to quit smoking today, but we decided to wait until Saturday. Did you all just roll your eyes simultaneously? I think you did. Who the hell had the bright idea of starting this thing on a TUESDAY anyway, and Valentines nonetheless? "Happy V-Day baby. I love you. Please accept this box of chocolates as I beat you in the head with it."

There's also the trust issue. If the world were being taken over by giant lizards from outer space, I could trust Hoop to try and rescue me. "Try" being the operative word. But when it comes to ten unsupervised hours, I can't trust that he wont smoke. Together we can at least monitor each other. I expect plenty of hand slapping and possibly a few titty-baby moments from me, but I think we'll do OK.

Valentine: The oldest Valentine to date was written in 1477 by Margery Brews to her fiance, John Paston.

"Right reverent and worshipful and my right well-beloved valentine, I recommend me unto you full heartedly, desiring to hear of your welfare, which I beseech Almighty God long for to preserve unto his pleasure and your hearts desire.

And if it pleases you to hear of my welfare, I am not in good health of body nor of heart, nor shall I be till I hear from you.

For there knows no creature what pain that I endure, and even on the pain of death I would reveal no more."

Two years ago I wrote a Valentine to myself that said,

"Cupid shoots his arrows swift and straight,
into the hearts of lovers.
I wish he'd aim a little high,
and shoot the hearts of others."

The front was decorated with Cupid on a spit with an apple in his mouth. As you can tell, I'm not a big fan of this Hallmark Holiday. For those of you who are... I wish you heaps of chocolate that wont go straight to your hips, roses that will never wilt, dinner plans that don't involve a "drive thru," and romps around the bedroom that wont get interrupted by kids or dogs or ringing phones.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Tink: I had a dream last night that we found this huge multicolored snake in the yard and by the time it reached us it had turned into a multicolored puppy. Isn't that strange?
Hoop: Yeah it is.
...
Hoop: So does this mean we can dye the dog?

Personal Earthquake

Day five on Wellbutrin: God is female. If God were male, all of us women would have been born with libidos like this medication gives me. You think I'm saying this backward don't you? I'm not. Do you know what I did all weekend? Absolutely NOTHING. That's excluding the sex, with orgasms that probably tipped the Richter scale in San Diego. I'm not trying to rub this in, honestly.

I'm sitting here trying to figure out where the last two days of my life went. Did I get my brakes replaced? Did I buy groceries? How about the hair cutters? Did Hoop and I make it over to his Grandmother's for a visit? The answer is no to all of the above. It was the least productive weekend ever. On the other hand, Hoop is the happiest man alive.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
(After watching Matrix Revolutions)
Tink: If I had to go off to Machine City, most likely to my death, would you go with me?
Hoop: Hell no! No point in both of us dying if one of us has a chance of surviving.
Tink: You wouldn't die with me?
Hoop: Some girls want fancy things, their boyfriend's money, ride around in expensive cars. But not you. You want your man to die for you.
Tink: Not for me, with me. There's a difference.
...
(Eight hours later. Hoop playfully asks me if I'm mad at him for something.)
Tink: No, I'm not mad at you for that.
Hoop: Oh but there is a "that?" What are you mad at me for then?
Tink: Because you wouldn't die with me.
Hoop: Oh Jesus Christ. Fine. I'll die with you. Happy now?
Tink: Yes.
...
(The next evening. Hoop and I hear a rustling in the underbrush next to the house.)
Hoop: What was that?
Tink: I don't know.
Hoop: Oh my God!
Tink: What?!
Hoop: Those people have their Christmas lights up still, and the way they glinted through the bushes they looked like two red eyes.
Tink: Holy shit, they DO. Wow, that's creepy.
Hoop: I was about to be like, "Baby... Run!"
Tink: Pffft. Whatever. You would have used me as a shield.
Hoop: Well, at least we would have died TOGETHER.

I'm gal Friday

Day two on Wellbutrin: Still capable of having an orgasm? Check. I was reading up on this stuff and one of the side effects for this XL version is "increased libido" and "possible increased intensity of orgasm." Holy shit. Watch these be the two side effects I DONT get. With my luck I'll end up with "growth of hair in abnormal areas on the body" and "technicolor dreams."

Side Note: Spell check keeps trying to change Wellbutrin to Elevator. Elevator?

Hoopla: One of the many endearing qualities that I had to get used to about Hoop is his chivalry. You wouldn't think that would be something one would have to "get used to." But when you're a person on the go, it's a little strange to have to wait for someone to let you in and out of the car. It's habit now. I wait, Hoop opens my car door to let me out, I say "Thank you Baby" and he replies "You're welcome Gorgeous."

Last night in Walmart's parking lot I sat in my seat, waiting for Hoop. I fiddled with my purse. I undid my seat belt. I cut the lights. Finally Hoop came around to my side... and opened the door to the back seat. There was a moment of confusion as I looked back to see what he was getting. What would be more important then letting me out first? The back door slammed and Hoop opened the driver's side door. It didn't take long for me to figure out what had happened. The look of befuddlement was all I needed.

Tink: You opened the wrong door.
Hoop: What? No.
Tink: Then what were you doing?
Hoop: Um. I was checking on something.
Tink: Oh really? What?
Hoop: The um... seatbelt.
Tink: The seatbelt? Come on, admit it. You opened the wrong door.
Hoop: Oh look, cheesecake!

When we got back to the car I tapped my fingers on the driver's side door.

Tink: THIS door honey.
Hoop: Shut up.
Tink: Thank you Baby.
Hoop: You're welcome Gorgeous.

Have an awesome weekend all!

Poking the Puppy

Day One on Wellbutrin: I think he gave me placebos.

Still... It might be a good idea to test that orgasm theory tonight. Chris has got me all paranoid. Paranoia isn't a side effect is it?! See? No really, I'm just joking. You don't have to hide your kids, I swear.

*********************************
DISCLAIMER: Be prepared for strong sexual content in 5.2 seconds. The staff of Pickled Beef cannot be held liable if you continue reading and are appalled, offended, or corrupted. Thank you, that is all.

Speaking of orgasms. What do you call yours? Got any pet names for your significant other's member? Do you have code words for sexual acts? Here's some names I've used/heard/found. The ones in blue are my personal favorites. Drop your two cents in the box and feel free to coin any that you like.

Female Orgasm:
* Catching one
* O-train
* O-face
* Jasm
* Releasing the Hostages
* Splooge
* Squeezing the trigger

Semen Slang:
* Penis butter
* Man chowder
* Manthrax
* Dong water
* Population Paste

Intercourse slang:
* Riding the Baloney Pony
* Stir the macaroni
* Parking the Beef Bus in Tuna Town
* Press bellies

Foreplay:
* Having a dog ear sandwich
* Yodeling in the Canyon of Love
* Lapping the little man in the canoe
* Smoke the pole
* Suck the ice cream
* Feed the calf
* Powder your nose
* Jack the beanstalk
* Polish the purple helmet

END of Disclaimer
*********************************

My Poison Apple

"Hi ho, Hi ho.
It's out for drugs I go.
Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho

I work work work work work work work in a cube the whole day through.
To smoke smoke smoke smoke smoke smoke smoke is what I like to do.

A cancer stick.
Just a quick fix.
If you smoke smoke smoke
And you suck it down quick.
On a break (On a break)
Just a break (Just a break)

I work work work work work work work from early morn to night.
And smoke smoke smoke smoke smoke smoke smoke up everything in sight.

So to the doctors,
I will fly.
A thousand worries,
reasons why.
I don't know what I smoke them for

Hi ho!
Hi ho!
Hi ho! Hi ho! Hi ho!

Hi ho, Hi ho
It's out for drugs I go.
Hi ho, Hi ho, Hi ho"

I have an appointment today to see a doctor about getting on Wellbutrin. It's normally prescribed for depression, but it's also proven to be quite useful for people trying to quit smoking. Let's hope. I've already found that I'm allergic to the patch. I really don't want to do this cold turkey. I'm afraid I'll fail. Failure is not an option to a control freak like me. So wish me luck. I'm going to get me some drugs!

Doses of Tink: I mentored a group of pre-teens online who fell in love with my nickname "Twisted Tink." They wanted to know where the "twisted" came from. So I began to tell them short stories. Eventually these snippets spun off into something else. If it interests you, I'll post more.

Doses of Tink have been moved to http://twisted-tink.blogspot.com/ as of April 21st 2006.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Hoop: Maybe I should open a blog called "Mr. Advice."
Tink: Oh yeah?
Hoop: People could post their questions and I'll answer them.
Tink: What kind of questions?
Hoop: Any kind of questions. You could be my first customer.
Tink: Why would I do that? You don't know anything...
Hoop: Hey!
Tink: ...that's why you have me.
Hoop: You realize you just insulted yourself, right?
Tink: No I didn't. I insulted you.
Hoop: No babe, there are two ways to take that statement.
Tink: Oh.
Hoop: Yeah.
Tink: Shit.

Daily Hoop Conversation 2:
Hoop: Can I be a housewife?
Tink: There are two things wrong with that scenario.
Hoop: What?
Tink: You hate cleaning and you can't cook.
Hoop: I could learn.
Tink: Would you be willing to be Mr. Mom too?
Hoop: Sure!
Tink: I don't know.
Hoop: Come on. I'd be your bitch!
Tink: Hold on.
Hoop: What are you doing?
Tink: I need this in writing.

Me(2)+More/Hoop=Post 57

The Queen Mama's Meme: Five Firsts in 50 Words or Less

My First Car: A mint condition powder blue 1985 Plymouth Reliant. It was 15 years old with 21,000 original miles on it. I hated it at first, absolutely loathed the color and boxy shape. But it grew on me. It had bench seats that I would wax before picking up friends. Then I would hit corners just to slide them into the windows. The car was also damn near indestructible. In its lifetime the Reliant was sabotaged, hit, slept in, sat on, smoked out of, and ridden hard. But it always got me from point A to B. I loved that ugly car.

My First Crush: I had a boyfriend in Kindergarten named Stephen. He bought me a ring out of a candy machine, which I promptly lost. He was heartbroken. One day while out on the playground, we found a broken Opal ring out by the fence. He gave it to me when our parents arrived to take us home. As our Mom's were pulling us toward the cars he called out, "---- ----, you better not lose that ring cause it's the LAST one I'm giving you!" I lost it a week later.

My First Word: ANTI­DIS­ESTABLISH­MENT­ARIAN­ISM... And then I popped the bottle back in my mouth and crawled off to rewrite the Constitution for better baby rights everywhere.

My First Pet: I've had numerous cats throughout the years, a few dogs, a Parrot that some kid fed Playdough and killed, some mice that bred themselves to a population of well over 100, 3 turtles, a slew of fish, and a fly on a string. But the first pet that I could actually call mine was a Rat Terrier named Jazzi. I didn't like her when my Mom brought her home. She was whinny, needy, and not the prettiest ball of tub I'd ever seen. But she wanted nothing to do with anyone else. She wanted me. I've had her for over seven years now. She's my living foot warmer, my furry baby, and a partner in crime. I couldn't have asked for a better "accidental" friend.

My First CD: The "Free Willy" soundtrack. No shit. I still have it, although I wouldn't dare listen to it.

Shellular Phones: Last night while walking one of the most tacky discount departments stores I've ever seen, I came across a basket of gigantic ceramic Conch Shells. Without hesitation I grabbed a shell, cupped it over the whole side of my face, and began to talk as if it were a phone. Hoop stared at me with a look I couldn't quite decipher. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed a shell himself. There we stood, two jackasses with huge Conch Shells up to the sides of our heads, talking to each other through them from two feet away. That's what love is my friends. Sharing the same world, even if it is a little nuts and not exactly normal. Even if you're the only two people who understand it. That's love.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
(After watching a commercial for "Male Enhancement")
Hoop: Should I get some of that honey?
Tink: No.
Hoop: Come on. You wouldn't like a bigger hammer?
Tink: Again with the hammers?
Hoop: *Nods and smiles*
Tink: Babe, if the hammer gets any bigger the nails are going to run away scared.
Hoop: Are you just saying that?
Tink: No. Now shut up.
Hoop: You're awesome.
Tink: Yeah yeah, whatever.

Daily Hoop Conversation 2:
(While roaming around a department store, Hoop flings a butterfly net over my head)
Hoop: Caught ya!
...
Hoop: You don't like this do you?
Tink: Not particularly.
Hoop: I can't believe they make net's this big!
Tink: *Glares*
Hoop: I mean...I can't believe your head is that small.
Tink: What?!
Hoop: Shit. I mean... I can't believe they make head shaped nets.

Memoir of My Last Nerve.

While looking through a stack of old Better Home and Garden magazines, I came across an old Christmas issue that featured Gingerbread Houses.



Gorgeous aren't they? Do you know what I was thinking while looking at these confection houses? "Screw that, I'm going to make a fucking CASTLE next year." Mind you, I've never attempted to make so much as a Gingerbread Man, let alone a Castle.

Honestly I think I've gone and shot off all my nerves. This weekend I stood on the last one, jumping up and town as if it were a trampoline. "Weeeeeee!" It made me a little nutty. I'm selling my house in less than a year for something a little roomier out in the country. The pros being more land and living closer to my family. The cons being that the nearest city is forty minutes away.

While out driving around, looking for land for sale, I realized how difficult an undertaking I'd signed up for. Roads in my Mom's area can start off lovely, a horse farm here, a ranch house there. Then they start to deteriorate. Suddenly the farms and houses give way to burnt shells of dwellings and mobile homes that teeter on the edges of cinder blocks. And somewhere, smack dab in this mess no less, is the property I'd been so hopeful about five minutes earlier.

On top of land, I'm stuck with the mind blowing decision of finding out what kind of house I can build for the small amount of money I can afford to put in it. Do you want a one story? Can I have a two story? Tub and shower? Double sinks? Front porch? Brick, cement, stone or vinyl siding? Lake or no lake? Eat-in Kitchen? Vaulted ceiling? Cozy lofts? I love you Hoop. You are my heartbeat. But damn it, "I don't know. I don't know what I want for this house. I don't know what it will look like. I don't know what I can afford. I don't know babe."

Last night he looked at me with worry across his forehead, "Are you OK?" "I'm just frustrated." Thank God for his patience. I look around at the current house and see the grout that needs to be redone, the walls that need to be painted, the carpets that need to be cleaned, the overgrown lawn, the dings in the walls and the dog scratches on the doors and I almost lose hope.

We were invited to a Super Bowl party last night at Hoop's Grandmother's house. I really did want to go. But that last nerve twanged and told me that all the furniture we'd moved from Hoop's apartment and had thrown haphazardly into the spare bedroom needed to be sorted... NOW. Bless Hoop's heart. Despite my sincere pleads that he go without me, he stuck around and helped organize everything. The house looks amazing.

So for the moment that last nerve is satiated. I'm feeding it mass amounts of coffee and chocolate and keeping it warm by sitting on it, hoping it won't hatch into a full grown temper tantrum later. Whenever it stirs, I start thinking of all the wonderful things there are to look forward to. I'll be able to see the family more than twice a month. The dogs will have more property to roam, ending the days of playing "Find the Landmine" in the yard with poop. Hoop will build a deck and we'll drink sweet tea in the sun. And soon the other nerves might resurrect themselves, making the last one less lonely and volatile. Let's hope.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Tink: I used to own turtles when I was little. They were great starter pets.
Hoop: I'd love to have a tortoise.
Tink: One of the huge ones?
Hoop: Yeah, the ones that live over a hundred years.
Tink: What would we do with it?
Hoop: We could pass it down through the generations
...
Tink: Or I could sit on it and read.

Daily Hoop Conversation 2:
Tink: Is this your hammer?
Hoop: Yup.
Tink: What the hell happened to my hammer. It wasn't as long and it had a smaller head on it.
Hoop: Well you don't need that hammer anymore. You have a bigger one now.
Tink: Yeah, I guess.
Hoop: You can use my hammer anytime.
Tink: *Keeps looking around room*
Hoop: Is this the biggest hammer you've ever had?
...
Tink: We're not actually talking about hammers anymore are we?

Rollercoaster

My mind has been taken over by a double Expresso with three creams and a sugar. I cannot be held liable for any people lost on this ride, so please buckle up. It's bound to be totally random and bumpy with a chance of confusion. You have been warned.

Ice Ice Baby: When I came home from school last night, Hoop was leaning against the counter with a strained smile across his face. "Were you ever engaged?" "No. Why?" "Are you sure?" "I think I would know." "Well it's just that I was looking through your jewelry box and I found a huge diamond ring." Now, I've been known to borrow my Mom's rings on occasion. I even wear the family diamond on my right hand middle finger. But I've never been in possession of a "huge" diamond anything.

I followed him back to the bedroom. What he plucked from my jewelry box made me giggle. "That's Pink Ice babe." "Pink what? It looks like a diamond." "Well it's not. It's practically worthless if you want the truth." I could tell he didn't believe me. "I got it when I was little. It's sparkly and cheap."

I still don't think he believes me. This is what the ring (sort of) looks like:

This is what the ring costs: $4.50. Oh yeah baby. I'm bling blingin' fo sho.

Personality Test Questions: Write down the answers to the questions highlighted in blue. I've placed my answers below the questions as examples.

1. What's your favorite animal?
A. Sea Otter

2. What are the characteristics you like about this animal?
A. Hard working, cute, social, family oriented, rare.

3. What's your favorite color?
A. Deep Blue

4. What characteristics do you associate with this color?
A. Soothing, expressive, naturistic, bold.

5. You're standing on a beach facing the land. Someone walks up to you and tells you that everything for as far as you can see is yours. How do you feel?
A. Excited and skeptical.

6. You're stuck in a white room with no windows, doors, furniture, or a way out. How do you feel?
A. Trapped.

Shorty: While digging around through my email folders this morning, I found a short story I wrote almost two years ago. It's one post below this one. It's rough and there are probably a slew of grammatical errors that *CoughArabellaCough* people will probably want to point out ;). But I'm totally cool with stone throwing. It'll help me practice for when I'm a Professional Dodgeball Player. So read it if you have time.

Personality Test Answers:
2. This is how others view you.
4. This is how you view yourself.
5. This is how you feel about sex.
6. This is how you feel about death.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
(After hooking up a surround sound to the TV and setting the bass to tile rattling decibels.)
Hoop: Isn't this awesome?!
Tink: Yeah, it's pretty cool hon.
Hoop: You're never going to be able to watch regular TV again!
Tink: It is pretty intense.
Hoop: Wow... You want a cigarette?
Tink: We just had one.
Hoop: Yeah but I need another one after this! I think I just orgasmed.
Tink: *Groan*

Have a spectacular weekend all!

The Flight Out.

Nigel stood in line diligently awaiting his check list. The people in his line stood still and indifferent, unlike the new arrivals at the main gate. When his turn finally came, Nigel grabbed the pen and quickly checked off the appropriate fields, “Blue eyes, brown hair, 5’11 and a predominant speech impediment.” There were more fields to fill, but he barely glanced at the other 352 queries as he went along.

As he turned to leave his arm was caught in someone’s persistent grip. “Where are you headed this time Nigel?” He turned to find the familiar face of Bert, one of the flight coordinators from level five. “Um, Kansas I think. You know I rarely look at those lists anymore. How about you?” "I’m off to Florida! I chose the premium package this time. I’m actually looking forward to a carefree life on easy street.” Nigel shifted his weight and sighed. “What exactly do you expect to learn from a life with no worries and no challenges?”

“Hey now! You know it wasn’t easy being 300lbs and Irish. I needed a vacation.” Bert’s face broke out in a huge grin as Nigel folded his arms and looked grumpy. “So Nigel, what horrendous handicap are you going to have to overcome this time? Leprosy? Narcolepsy? Pimple Scars? It’s always something isn’t it?” “A speech impediment,” Nigel mumbled. Bert broke out in a cackle of laughter as he waved his hand in a mock salute. “Have fun then. See you when you get home!”

...

Nigel left the itinerary counter and made his way back to his post. The line for the main gate nearly disappeared into the distance. “Where’d you all come from?” He hollered through the bars as he undid the lock. “I would have been here sooner but a bus accident held me up,” cried an angry fellow from the front. “I was on that bus,” whispered someone from behind him. A conversation ensued between the two and Nigel was quickly forgotten. He pushed the crowd back in place as he swung the gate that had previously barred them from their destination.

The first 50 people flew by in what seemed like a matter of moments. Most just needed to check in and be pointed in the right direction. Some knew where they were going and wasted even less of Nigel’s time. Nigel contemplated calling his "Relief Gate Attendant (RGA)", to free his mind from the monotony of it all, when a slight and timid creature came forth from line. “Can I help you?” Nigel mumbled as he scanned the list in front of him for the RGA's number. “I’m new,” came the murmur of the voice.

“New as in 2 times, 50 times, 300 times, what?” Nigel barked, not looking up. “Um. I’ve never been here before.” Nigel’s head snapped up. “NEW new?” “Yes,” it breathed. Nigel stared at the quivering thing and finally saw it for what it was. The child’s eyes were blank and open wide. Its hair was completely disheveled and of the most bland hue, almost skin color. The child’s clothes were plain and general, as if not to give away the sex of its wearer.

“You need to go to the ‘Flight Instructors’ counter. You can’t fly without some sort of training. They’ll most likely set you up with a guide there.” Nigel turned to the PA system and pressed a button, “190824, please come to the main gate. 190824, you are requested for assistance.” He waited with the child for a minute until the RGA came. Taking the child by the hand, Nigel left the main gate and escorted the child to the appropriate counter.

A boisterous woman at the desk shouted loudly when they came into sight, “We were looking for you everywhere!” Nigel left the youngster with the woman and turned to leave. He thought he’d be relieved. That could have been disastrous! Still… He found himself turning back to catch a glimpse before walking out of sight. The kid was peering over the counter. Its big eyes watched Nigel with a certain sadness.

...

It was roughly 4 weeks later, or perhaps it was an eon, Nigel couldn’t tell. He was waiting in line for his flight. His hands kept folding themselves together and then trying to twist each other apart. This wasn’t his first trip. But it was always the worst part of the journey for him. He tried to think of all the other places he’d been. He’d been traveling such an awfully long time. Before he could get too deep into reminiscing, there was a tap on his back.

He turned and looked down at the smiling face below him. It was the child from the gate. “They told me I’m ready to fly now.” Nigel found himself relieved and even a little grateful for the company. “That’s great!" "Where are you going?” the child asked. “To Kansas, so it seems. Somewhere on Mohatchett Ave.” The child looked down at the paper in its hands. “I’m going to Crescent Lake Trailer Park, wherever that is.” Nigel watched the child’s nervous hands shake the paper. “I’m sure that will be lovely,” he replied. The child looked back doubtfully.

Nigel tried to think of some reassuring words. “In the beginning they tell you where you’re going. But in the end you’ll be able to choose your own destiny. It’s all about learning how life works from all aspects. You’ll see. This will be my 899th flight, and I’m still not satisfied that I’ve learned all there is to know.” “You’ve been born 899 times?!” The child’s eyes were round with wonder. “Do you think you could help me if I get lost along the way?” The child asked.

“You can try to find me when I’m down there,” Nigel answered with a gentle smile. “But I’m afraid you won’t remember any of this until you’re on your way back, and I won’t look like this down there.” He hated disappointing the kid, but didn’t want to give him false hope either. Both were soon startled by the bleeping of the loading dock. Lights flashed in gentle revolutions. “NOW BOARDING FLIGHT JUNE 6th 2004 8:02 AM. NOW BOARDING FLIGHT JUNE 6th 2004 8:02 AM.”

“Well here goes kid. If nothing else, I’m sure you’ll have some great stories to tell when you get back.” Nigel felt the tiny fingers lace into his. With a squeeze he led them to the glowing doorway. “Does it hurt?” The child asked in a whisper. “Only a little,” Nigel answered. “Jump!” He cried out as he leapt them both forward.

Snap my picture!

The other day I received this in the mail:



It didn't actually come with the condoms. Although I wish it had, they're ridiculously overpriced. What exactly would this "special relationship" entail? Is he that desperate for book sales that he's willing to pimp himself out? All I can imagine is Stephen King in an IT costume, slinging a bucket of pig's blood, and sitting atop a possessed 1958 Plymouth Fury. Not exactly my kind of turn on.
.....................................................................................

I debated whether to post the picture of the neck wound directly or not. After a bit of fiddling with the image, I realized that it wasn't nearly so bad, as long as I didn't zoom it in all the way. Trust me, I'm doing you a favor.



See? Not too gruesome. At least you can't see the rest of the neck and shoulder, just the entry point. You still with us Mignon?
..................................................................

Here's a picture of my two favorite men, my Step-Dad (Papa Bear) and Hoop. They're standing out on Papa Bear's unfinished deck deciding what to do with it next.


..........................................................................

This is me playing shy. I don't like my picture taken before I've had a chance to take a shower.



This is one of the rare occasions where my middle finger didn't make an appearance. It tends to be overactive around cameras and early rising boyfriends.
..........................................................................

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Tink: I got my annual evaluation at work today.
Hoop: Oh? How'd that go?
Tink: Good. I got the same review I got last year, no complaints.
Hoop: Excellent!
Tink: They did request that I make a list of all the things I do in my position though.
Hoop: They don't know?
Tink: Evidently not.
...
Hoop: So what the hell did they evaluate you on?

Inventions

It is safe to assume that in a past life (if I am to believe in such things) I was NEVER Thomas Edison, Benjamin Franklin, Mary Jacob, or numerous other "Pioneers of Invention" worth noting. I am perfectly happy with letting someone else do that dirty work. Maybe this is because, like my Navigation Gene, I was born with a horribly stunted Inventing Gene. Whenever I sit back and try to think of something worth creating my brain short circuits and floods my mind with images of things that have already been invented. Maybe I should work on inventing a time machine instead.

There are people out there with original ideas, albeit not always good ones. Bruce Van Patter's web site is one of the funniest I've found on strange patents. Some of my favorites being:

• Dad Saddle- for when little kids "ride horsey" on their dad's back.
  
• Santa Detector- it's a stocking with an alarm that sounds when the stocking is filled.
  
• Talking Dog Collar- with recorded messages, it sounds like your dog is talking! Sort of.
  
  
  
  Daily Hoop Conversation:
  Hoop: So I came up with an invention.
  Tink: Oh?
  Hoop: Vibrating underwear.
  Tink: Hmmm.
  Hoop: It would have a wireless remote-
  Tink: -It's already been done.
  Hoop: Really? Vibrating underwear has already been done?
  Tink: Well, they're more like discreet strap on devices. I think one's called the Dolphin and another is the Bumblebee.
  ...
  Hoop: And HOW do you know all this?
  Tink: *Shrugs* I'm a girl.
  Hoop: Do I need to go raid your "toy" box?
  
  Daily Hoop Conversation 2:
  Hoop: I just thought of another invention!
  Tink: Ok.
  Hoop: There's this box. Only, one side is clear. And somehow using magic, we transmit little pictures on to it.
  Tink: Mmmm Hmmm. What kind of pictures?
  Hoop: Plays and shows, only in thirty to an hour segments. Then we get manufactures to buy time slots on this box that they'll have to pay to advertise on! We'll be RICH.
  Tink: *Walks away*
  Hoop: Babe?
  
  Daily Hoop Conversation 3:
  Tink: I just thought of an invention.
  Hoop: Great!
  Tink: You take a chair-
  Hoop: A chair, wonderful.
  Tink: -and you stick it on top of two curved wood beams. This enables the chair to rock backwards and forward without falling over.
  Hoop: Wow. You know who would really go for that? Old country people.
  Tink: I was thinking more along the lines of new Moms and their babies.
  Hoop: That too. Huh. A rocking chair.
  Tink: And you know what I'd call it?
  Hoop: I'm all ears.
  Tink: Tink's Weeble Wobble-matic!
  Hoop: You. Are. Brilliant!
  Tink: I know.
  Hoop: I love you.

What are some inventions that you've thought of?