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Sunday, May 30, 2005
Interesting facts about this photo:
Whiskey. From Walmart. Walmart in Kathmandu, Nepal.
My mom climbed to Base Camp on Mount Everest.
After she climbed off the mountain, she went to Walmart and bought me some whiskey.
I forgot all about this whiskey, until I cleaned my cupboards yesterday. I also found this UGO (Unidentified Gelatinous Object), and I have no idea what it shwas:
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Thursday, May 26, 2005 again
You people!
Why didn't you PC people tell me there was an ugly blue border around the top image of my web site, huh? Think I couldn't take it? Were you scared I'd beat you up?
It's fixed. I didn't see it on my superior Macintosh; only when I viewed my site on my husbands crackhouse PC.
Oh, and I mailed my letter to Tim Duncan by US Post yesterday, or maybe the day before. Evidently he doesn't have email. I told him it would be okay to call me after the playoffs are over. We must get to the bottom of this Tim Duncan tattoo issue!
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Thursday, May 26, 2005
Garage Sale Fashion
If you are going to a garage sale today, might I suggest that you don your polka-dot apron over your white sweat pants. Pull on a parka in May, fling a flowered canvas bag over your shoulder, and your look just shouts, "Minnesota."
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Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Helpful Cake-Decorating Tips
If you know anybody who is having a vasectomy, say, for example, your brother, why not celebrate the ruthless elimination of all your hopes and dreams for more redhead nieces and nephews with a festive baked confection, complete with authentic vinyl band-aid and toasted coconut pubes?
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Monday, May 23, 2005
New Design
So this is how I spent my day—drawing a cartoon me and making a pretty new web site. Now I can get back to searching for interesting people to write about.
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Saturday, May 21, 2005
What Shwas Tim Duncan's Tattoo, Revisited Update Click Here
Holy Geez. I'm not sure I understand the fascination, but I have had so many visitors looking for "Tim Duncan's Tattoo" that I went looking for information myself. There isn't a whole lot written on the subject, but word on the Internet street is that Mr. Duncan has a tattoo of Merlin the Magician, and that it has something to do with his being a huge fan of Dungeons and Dragons, or at least he was when he was in college at Wake Forest. You know, I'm going to write to the Spurs and see if his agent will tell me the story so I can post it here. So come back soon, you Tim Duncan Tattoo searchers, and I'll tell you what it shwas.
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Sunday, May 22, 2004
Big Dork
Long ago, in the days when iTunes was fresh and new but before the first iPod was born, one of my great joys in life was to pop in a CD that had been created by my oldest daughter, whose eclectic taste in music amused me to no end. I'd enjoy a little Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves, a little Spice Girls, a little Oompa Loompa Song from the Wizard of Oz. I'd smile and think, ahh. . .silly child hasn't yet developed any real preference for a specific taste in music.
Just about every day during the week, I enjoy a long walk with a couple o' neighbor ladies. Today is Saturday, though, so I set out on my walk solo, with iPod, and it was on that walk that I realized that, although I am 22 years older than that daughter, I am no closer to developing any real preference for any particular music, either. I set the iPod to shuffle, and this is the list that accompanied me:
I've Changed my Address, by Diana Krall
Heirlooms, by Amy Grant
Santa Baby, by Eartha Kitt
The Finale from Cabaret
Ohio, from Wonderful Town
Rhiannon, by Fleetwood Mac
Can You Feel the Love Tonight, from The Lion King
That Bubble-blowing song from the Spongebob Movie
Another Day, from Rent
The Day Has Come, from Martin Guerre
My Own Private Idaho, by the B-52's
Let's Get it Started, by Black Eyed Peas
Prologue from Little Shop of Horrors
Cockeyed Optimist, from South Pacific, by Mitzi Gaynor
So I'm sorry, Rose, that I have passed this music weirdness on to you. I am also sorry to my neighbors, because sometimes when I have headphones on, I don't really realize that I am singing, or how loudly I am singing, and that is my excuse for jogging along Crystal Lake Road singing, Pardon me, if I'm off track, but if you're so wise, then tell me, why do you need smack? Take your powder. Take your fancy prayer, and don't forget take the moonlight outta your hair. . .
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Tuesday, May 17, 2005
That Boy, Again
My perfectly excellent nephew JohnHenry called me last night, to remind me that Thursday is his Big Program at School. I am going early, so I can have recess and lunch with him, and then I will sit on the gray folding chair with my video camera. I have received instructions to make sure I get video of the following people:
| Lauren |
Seeta |
Luke |
| Zach |
Quinn |
Nathan |
| Maddie* |
Maggie |
Avery |
| McKenna |
Gretchen |
Llama** |
| Alexis *** |
Coleman |
Dylan**** |
| Brianna |
JohnHenry |
Mrs. Borchardt |
But not John and Ethan, because they moved.
*The girl who ran off with Dylan
**What the ?
***Not that Alexis
****The woman-stealing ne'er-do-well
This includes the entire roster of JohnHenry's first grade class. Did he say, "make sure you get everybody in there"? No, he did not. He rattled off each name individually, because he is a genius about remembering stuff like that. Someday I'll tell you about his savant-like sense of direction.
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Monday, May 16, 2005
Newsflash!
On the news tonight, we were warned about a rash of thefts around Lake Harriet. People leave their purses and wallets in their cars while they go walking/running/blading around the lake, and bad guys break the window and take 'em, just like that, plain daylight and all.
Well, no shit. There are bad guys in the world.
The "victim" of one such break-in appeared on the newscast, disguised in shadow to protect her identity. Protect her identity from what? Ridicule? She pissed and moaned about being victimized over and over again, every time she gets a collection notice, as the criminals are still victimizing her by writing checks on her now-closed account.
Boo frickity hoo, Poopypants. YOU left your purse in the car. YOU were irresponsible. YOUR actions caused everybody's credit card rates to be higher. How 'bout you take some responsibility here, mmmmkay?
I know of what I speak here, people, because I am that same kind of dumbass. I left my purse in my car for thirty minutes at Shady Oak Beach Park in Minnetonka in September of 2003. When I came back, the passenger side window was broken and my purse was gone. Most inconvenient. I had to spend a lot of time changing locks, replacing extra car keys, filing affidavits and answering collection notices with certified letters.
Am I a victim? Indeed. Of my own stupidity.
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May 14, 2005
In Keeping with the Fashion/Style Theme. . .
Gentlemen: Who is your barber? I find your haircuts stunningly handsome, in the most porcupinian sense of the word.
In the part of the photo that I cropped out, you can plainly see Pat's face, the look on which says, you're totally busted taking a photo of them. It doesn't appear that your focus is on me, not one bit. How embarrassing. I very well may die.
You can also see a kid wearing a Packers cheerleading outfit. Wha? We were at a Minnesota Lynx game! At Williams Arena! Where the Gophers (University of Minnesota sportsters of all sorts) play! Dress your kids appropriately, people. And also, teach them NOT to kick kick kick kick kick kick kick kick the seat in front of them, mmmmkay?
And you know who else was there? My personal Favorite Guy Ever, Mister Kevin Garnett. Completely distracted me from watching Lindsay Whalen. But would I attempt talk to him? Would I say, Kevin! You alone made me a basketball fan! I adore your wholesome ways! No, of course not. I would just casually walk across the arena, past his row, up the stairs, and snap this lame photo of the side of his face, while he talked to a brave eight-year-old who had the guts to ask the security guard to let him pass by and talk to Kevin Garnett.
One time, last season, on the Greatest Day of my Life, I got to sit courtside at a Wolves game. And not just courtside, but at the END OF THE BENCH, people! Between the bench and Glen Taylor! Earvin Johnson threw his sweaty towel on my feet! I couldn't take pictures, though, because when you sit at courtside you have to act all Mature and Businesslike and Grown up. When you call your brother, you have to pretend you're just calling a babysitter (even though your kids are teenagers), and be all casual, like you are saying yes, it's okay if they have some ice cream instead of saying to your brother, for the love of everything holy, turn on your tv! You are going to CRAP YOUR PANTS when you see where we are sitting! I just made frickin' EYE CONTACT with KG and Spree keeps saying the effenheimer!
Again, a story for another time, but I just told you now.
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May 14, 2005
My Delightfully Vengeful Nephew who is Full of Great Ideas
Last night JohnHenry called me on the phone. He had some news, and he needed me to do something for him. That's how he puts it. . .I'm gonna need you to do sumfin' for me. . .
The news was most unsettling. At school yesterday, a young ne'er-do-well named Dylan STOLE JohnHenry's girlfriend. So JohnHenry needs my help extracting revenge on the little thief. He came up with several options:
Get a big box. Stuff Dylan inside. Mail him to New Jersey.
Glue Dylan's feet to the floor.
Beat him.
Get a really strong magnet, and take it 1,000 miles away. Get a shirt and a pair of pants made out of metal, and put them on Dylan, who will then be yanked across the country and stuck to the giant magnet in Doddridge, Arkansas.
What does he need me to do? Well, he has everything figured out except for getting the giant magnet 1,000 miles away. That's my part in this. The giant box, postage to New Jersey, super-sticky glue, the acts of violence, acquisition of the magnet and metal clothing? All under JohnHenry's control. He just needs me to take the giant magnet 1,000 miles away.
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Thursday, May 12, 2005
Another Minnesota Fashionista
Okay, this one elicits a couple of responses in me:
Firstively (see English/Kellyspeak dictionary), COME ON! Lady! Where did your tailor find that zipper? I know a tailor lovingly crafted those bloomers, because they sure as heck aren't available at the retail level. The only zipper longer than the one you're sportin' is on a sleeping bag.
Secondively, I apologize, because this cashier at my local Burnsville grocery store is a decent sort.
Lastively, I don't apologize that much, because although I cannot recall the details, she commited some sort of faulty customer service action against me once. I think she may have slapped her Lane Closed sign up when she saw me coming or something. I just remember being miffed at her for a while.
So here you go. Behold Pantzilla, the pants that measure 42" from waist to crotch:
Click the picture to see the movie. . .if you dare!
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Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Psssst. . .I updated the photos at the left.
. . .and there are little tiny movies, as well.
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Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Somethin' Really Good
If you want to read something UNfrickinbelievable, go to www.63days.com and see just how swell those Sally Jesse Raphael Talk Show Boot Camps for Messed Up Teenagers are. Alli survived one, the worst one, and it's quite a feat that she lived to tell about it. Start at the beginning and get caught up, then come back and read every day. Also, vote here for her to win a fabuloso award of some sort, an award which includes dollars she will use to get away from a man she is trying to divorce, which will give her more time to write, which will entertain us and make us feel all oogy at the same time, because it's not a very happy story. If you have kids, DO NOT send them to one of those boot camps. If you are a teenage kid, behave yourself so your parents do not send you to one of those boot camps. If you run one of these boot camps, I dare you to come here so I can poke you in the eye, for starters.
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Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Instant Messizzle
Oh, I do enjoy a nice IM conversation where somebody thinks I'm my kid. Ah, the deception. Evil. Pure evil. I can't ever let it go too long, because I really don't necessarily want to know much of what they talk about, you know? Here's one from just minutes ago:
bballdevil2003 (7:38:38 PM): yo yo yo
bballdevil2003 (7:38:56 PM): pimpjuice
DolphinChic106 (7:39:14 PM): Yo yo yo y'sizzle.
bballdevil2003 (7:39:30 PM): nver again
DolphinChic106 (7:39:36 PM): FYI, this is Kelly's mama.
DolphinChic106 (7:39:47 PM): Oh, snap!
DolphinChic106 (7:40:08 PM): So. . .who's this?
bballdevil2003 (7:40:13 PM): ben
bballdevil2003 (7:40:21 PM): g2g
bballdevil2003 (7:40:23 PM): cya
DolphinChic106 (7:40:28 PM): Ah. . .well hello, Ben. Kelly will BRB.
DolphinChic106 (7:40:32 PM): Bye!
So yo yo yo. . .all yaz Kelly's friends. . .beez aware of who yer talkin' to before ya say "pimpjuice."
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Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Hey I.P. 205.188.116.197 on AOL in New York!
Why are you searching google for stuff you know will get you here, like "flies in the cream cheese" and "suzi gine" and "gine cigar"? It's a little weird. I might be missing some of them, because only the most recent search from each I.P. shows up in my stats. Whatcha doing? What's that all about? It's amusing me and weirding me out, all at the same time.
Hmmm. AOL is weird when it comes to I.P., huh? Do all AOL I.P.s appear to be in New York, when in fact they are not?
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Sunday, May 8, 2005
Happy Mudda's Day
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Saturday, May 7, 2005
Springtime Fashion Tips: What is WITH Minnesotans?
This lady was sitting around one day, anticipating the 2005 Fill-A-Parking-Lot-With-Geezers-And-Spiffy-Old-Cars Season, and she thought. . .hmm. . .I think I'll rip the sleeves off of my faux patchwork jean jacket, and then I'll construct some new ones out of that stunning yellow chenille bedspread. I'll top off the project with a ginormous plastic flower, then Ernie 'n me'll hop in the DeSoto and head over to Noodles in Apple Valley. I hope somebody will be there with a camera to document my stylishness on her blog:
Edited to say: Guest Photographer, Rose McDonough. And also, why aren't you in bed?
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Thursday, May 5, 2005
Sophie's Birth
Here's the link to the movie I made about My Perfectly Delectable Niece's Entrance Into the World. Use the password: hunch. In our family, hunch means poop, by the way. If you're wondering. Noun and Verb. Hunch. But there is no hunch in the movie, nor is their any footage of my sister-in-law's gine, ya perv.
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Thursday, May 5, 2005
Wuggie Has a Boyfriend, Wuggie has a Boyfriend
So. Little Rose is dating. This is the boyfriend, Alex. I haven't had the opportunity to meet Alex yet, as they're away at college, but there are a few things I feel I should point out about my daughter. So here you go.
Dear Alex,
See that smile on my little girl's face? I want that smile to stay there, okay? It makes me happy to look at that picture, and see how comfortable and relaxed she appears. Sometimes she is wound a little tightly, so it's good to see her kicked back.
Notice how close she is to you. Notice how she is sort of snuggled up against you. This is trust, my friend. The girl does not trust easily. She's sort of a skeptic, actually, so her trust is a rare gift. Appreciate that gift, okay?
When you spend time with my perfect daughter, I want you to ask yourself this question, and ask it often, like every ten minutes: Am I behaving in a manner which serves to keep Rose safe and make her happy? If the answer is yes, continue. If the answer is no, knock it off. Remember that she is somebody's baby, somebody's treasure, somebody's whole world.
And Rose? You remember that about Alex, too. He is his mama's baby, and she doesn't want his heart broken, either.
Gosh. You guys do look sweet together. You could be the cover of an orthodontist's brochure.
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Sunday, May 1, 2005
Ballpark Fashion Advice, Reloaded
Pink Mini-skirt Lady's ballgame attire coordinated nicely with her demeanor today. Damn it! I couldn't have been more disappointed when she showed up in some navy blue stretchy comfy pants and a light blue polar fleece pullover. Fortunately, there were still some sights compelling enough to warrant documentation, including these puzzling shirts:
There seems to be some sort of infestation of itch-inducing ass parasite in Section 127, Row 21 of the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome, because today, just like on Friday, we witnessed it. Click the picture to watch the movie:
Now, understand that I did not even know my camera was recording at that moment. I didn't even know it had recorded until I got home. Rose says this is how we know God loves us.
Here is another little movie called Pink Mini-skirt Lady and her Opinion of This Particular Ump's Ability to Call Balls and Strikes (click the picture to see the movie):
And finally, since there was less to look at today, and a snoozefest of a baseball game (hardly any hits till late in the game, 2-1 loss, *yawn*), we had to be our own weirdos. Mr. McDonough was wearing his new Johan Santana jersey, and conveniently, Johan Santana was pitching, so I thought it would be a real good idea to lick Pat's jersey every time Johan Santana struck somebody out. Obviously! That's what you do, right? Pat did not participate, which made the licking more challenging, as demonstrated here:
Not as in depth as Friday's fashion tips, maybe, but I will leave you with this: a couple more donkey kicks. And trust me. I just did a couple of donkey kicks, at 2 a.m., because I care about you. Very much.
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Sunday, May 1, 2005
More Fashion Advice, Coming Soon. . .
. . .I hope. We're going to the Twins game in a little while, so if you happen to be in Section 127, look for us!
Meanwhile, some advice for Understanding Seven-Year-Old Nephews: If you take your nephew to the mall to get a haircut, and first you have lunch in the food court, where there is a vast collection of those quarter-sucking little kid rides, and your nephew asks you for a dollar, don't assume he is going to ride the mini monster truck for the 300th time, because in all likelihood, he's going to use that dollar to buy a four-pound purple gumball. Also, don't assume that a 4-foot tall boy cannot cram an entire 4-lb gumball into his mouth. Because in fact, he most certainly can. And will.
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