Wow. I am in shock. Such a wasted talent. Gorgeous, and so very memorable for those of us who were young during the 80′s. Tragic.
I had this on cassette tape…played it over and over. It was simply one of the best vocals on our national anthem ever performed. IMHO.
So, Cyndi’s been a busy lil bee. I haven’t discussed it much here, but a couple years ago my main POD (print on demand-where I house my designs for nice folks to buy them on mugs, shirts, etc) did an about face on their terms of service, leaving many of us with a 70-90% slash to our income. I was pretty depressed. It was like spending a long time in a marriage…all your eggs in one basket thing (I know, my bad) and it hurt. So much time spent…wasted, really…and no recourse but to start over somewhere else, with no guarantee the next POD wouldn’t get too big for their britches and hose me with ice water and steal my cookie jar again.
I recently just…somehow…got over it. Just like a real marriage break up…I woke up on day and…while I’m still PO’d and disappointed and wish it weren’t so…I can move on.
So, I have been busy redoing and adding lots of sites. They are all linked off of my main site CyndiDavis.com and eventually I will have a header with all of the links for folks to follow. Click over there and look on the right sidebar. It’s been really fun, and I am not stopping now. The sites feature my designs from various POD’s as well as those of my friends and other designers I like. As always, if you need a custom design for your group, an event or a special gift, let me know!
I am actually pretty easy going about telemarketers. I think they should get different jobs, obviously…but I guess if that’s all they are equipped to do, then, OK. But don’t keep calling me after I have asked to be taken off your list.
It has been going on for weeks. A number I can’t call back, because it shows up as “Name Withheld” with a phone number of 1-423-1, keeps calling me. I answer, they ask for me BY NAME, and tell me they want to send me the insurance quotes I have asked for and would I verify my mailing address. They HAVE my damn mailing address!! AND my name and phone number, obviously. I refuse to verify this, because I never ASKED for any “insurance quotes”. The first time they called I told the man no, I would not be verifying anything and please remove me from his list. He said he would. Lying @$$hole.
They call every day or so. I repeated my request 4 times and then stop answering. Then? I got pissed. They won’t stop calling!! A few days ago, this happened and I answered, I again, in a not very polite way, asked them to stop.calling.me. The guy hung up on me and I thought that was that. My DH laughed and reminded me of HIS answer to scamming telemarketers. I laughed too and told him if they called back, I would do the same thing.
They called back a couple days later while I was in the car driving. I picked up the phone and I looked at him, then said, “Get ready…” I answered the phone…the man called me by name…
And I screamed bloody murder as loud as I could for as long as I could. Then I hung up.
My DH and I laughed like lunatics for a full five minutes. I figured that would get me off the list. Apparently? It got me moved to somebody else’s list.
Today they called three times in a row. My DH and I were studying in our library. The first time, I looked at him and said, “Sorry…” then answered, listened for the guy to call me by name, then I screamed my head off. We laughed like loons when I hung up, cuz the cat does not understand my new way of answering the phone, and in fact had never heard a sound like that from me. He jumped four feet straight up from a soundly sleeping curl position, and shot himself like a bullet across the room, where he stared at me with eyes the size of saucers. Poor baby.
Then the guy called back!! I did it again. Shook my head, cuz…what an idiot. He must not realize…American women are pretty sturdy. We can scream loud, and a LOT. Maybe Indian women don’t do this. The third time sounded like a different person, and I pictured them passing the headset around…I screamed as loud as I have ever screamed with all my breath. Then my DH and I collapsed into hysteria as we have both worked in call center situations and knew how they must be flummoxed over this response.
They haven’t called back, yet. I kind of hope they do. First, it was kind of fun and relieved a LOT of stress. Sort of an excuse to behave badly. Second, I want a chance to TELL them up front that if they KEEP calling, I am GOING TO keep screaming. I never thought to do that before, and I want a chance to perfect my system. Third, it might be kind of fun to get their reaction to the upfront warning. Will they hang up on me first…or wait to see if I will follow through? Should be interesting. I will update when I have more.
OK, so, I cannot document my morning with a picture or a video, but it was awesome.
I was having coffee in the pool this morning…it’s one of my favorite things about summer in North Texas. I am actually liking the heat this year. Of course, not this week, when the heat index is 110F-115F. That’s just ridiculous. But the normal heat here…in the 90′s…well, I am tolerating it pretty well.
Ansel loves being out in the yard, though he’s all for just short trips when it’s as hot as the Devil’s sauna out there. He leaps after butterflies and moths, drinks out of the pool and lounges in the cool rocks under the Pampas grass or in the shade of the Banana plants. I have been worried about what he might do if he encounters a bee, since leaping on one is not a smart thing to do and a sting would not be a happy event. This morning as we were having a headbutting contest at the side of the pool, something caught his eye. I looked where he did, and saw a bee buzzing in the Phlox next to the pool. He watched it for a long moment, as I readied myself to grab him, and then he just…walked away. Good deal. Very smart kitty.
As stated in previous posts and on Flickr, we have done a lot of work in the back yard this year. Trying to create our own vacation spot in the convenience of our own yard. One of our shining achievements is the Hyacinth Bean vines we added along the fence. The vines are gorgeous, but the flowers are so unbelievably beautiful…and today?? While I sipped my latte’ in the pool and watched the sun rise over the fence…a hummingbird flew into the yard, and flitted from flower to flower in the Hyacinth Bean…then flew away.
Like I said, it…was…awesome.
My yard:
I don’t care how bad your day is going…if you have 3 minutes, you can find a smile. Right here:
You’d be hard pressed to find anything cuter. You know what…if you watch it twice? You might even find a chuckle.
Moderation is really a difficult thing to master. Really. Now, most days, I can do it…but the ones I don’t keep things under control…well, I just should.
I swam today, but the pool was cold, so not enough. Before that…I ate waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too many sugarfree [SF] chocolate covered almonds and malted milk balls left over from going to the movie with my DH the other night.
Couple of things on this. First, no, they do not have SF candy at the theater. My DH is diabetic, so that’s what we buy…and it’s in my purse when I enter the theater. If they provided it, I might consider buying it there, even at the ridiculously inflated prices…but they don’t. Sue me.
Second, SF candy…especially the chocolates and gummy things…have sugar alcohols in them. They are NOT calorie free, but they don’t respond in the body the same as sugar does, so diabetics can usually have them without a lot of impact on their blood sugar. I don’t usually eat too many because they also tend to create a huge amount of gas when you eat more than, say, TWO pieces. They taste…awesome. Like real chocolate. But the after effects…O. M. G.
I have no idea why farts are so funny. But they so are. Even when you’re alone. Or watching Craig Ferguson. Doncha love how he says “farty”? With an h. And rolled r’s…like “Fahhhrrrty”. But I digress.
DH took a nap, and I was in the kitchen, just rippin’ one after another…loud…I mean, reverberators. Which, as ladylike as I am…I rarely do. Heh. But not smelly. Men are really good at the stinky ones. Really good. THOSE are not funny unless they’re yours.
So, I couldn’t help it, I decided to just get it out. Better out than in, is what I have always heard, right? But then I got laughing. The cat looked at me after one of the more offensively booming ones, and the expression on his face just sent me into a giggle fit. Of course, when you’re full of air it’s sort of a lather/rinse/repeat phenomenon. Gas/giggle/gas/giggle/gas/giggle/gas…
I have finally caught my breath, and I still cannot for the life of my figure out why they are so funny. And yet…the laughing felt pretty darn good. Maybe good enough to have just another piece or two…and let the good times roll.
Addendum: DH is now awake and I am still um, airing out. At the first sound he looked at me with shock and said “Holy Criminy! WHAT was THAT?”
I smiled and said, “That was me letting all the other men on earth know that I am taken.”
Well, we have been very domesticated this year. We started just after the New Year, by redoing the fireplace…which led to redoing the whole family room.
Then spring came. We knew we would not have time or money to travel this year, again…so we decided to bring the vacation to us. We’re spending a lot of time fixing the backyard up so it looks sort of tropical. Banana trees, flowers, reed fencing. We planted something called “Hyacinth Bean“, which is a vine, and has huge heart shaped leaves. Really pretty…but Steve started noticing little holes in the leaves…then they appeared in the Canna lillies.
I asked my very smart friend Zoe…cuz she knows everything about everything. Seriously. She remembered reading something on Mir’s blog about something similar. Well, I pink puffy heart Mir, cuz she makes me LOL for real, even about stuff that makes me want to hurl.
So, I sing Hallelujah…not really, cuz even God doesn’t want to hear that…but in my head, angels were singing.
I tell the DH,
“I know what’s making holes in the plants.”“Yeah? What?”
“Slugs.”
“There are no slugs out there. There are NO slugs. They leave shiny slime paths. I have seen no paths.”
“Yup. Mir said so. We’re gonna kill ‘em with beer.”
“Huh?”
“I’ma get some little containers and some cheap beer and get ‘em drunk. They can’t swim. I think cuz they have no arms. Anyway. So. Then they drown.”
“All you’re gonna do is waste beer.”
“But, it’ll be cheap beer.”
“Still. A waste.”
“OK. Here’s the deal. If I’m wrong…you get to say so. Out loud. If I’m right…and I will be…you have to clean up the dead slugs.”
So last night I got little plastic containers at Lowe’s for 38 cents each. I forgot the cheap beer, but I had some MGD 64 which I figured is cheap enough. I put the little bowls in the areas of most leaf carnage and filled them up with beer. I heard DH sigh as I came back inside.
“It’s not gonna work, you know.”
“Nothing for you to clean up in the morning then, huh?”
I gotta tell you, there was NO way I was going out there in the night with a flashlight to check on them, cuz Mir’s description squicked me to my core. I did however, jump up and run out there as soon as I was awake enough to remember I was on a slug hunt. And?
EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME?!? EW! EW! And freaking EW!
I handed DH the garbage can and a plastic fork. Then, I went in the house to figure out how to get the queeze outta my stomach.
So. Lessons learned:
1. Mir was right.
2. Zoe was right.
3. I was right.
4. Slugs are freaking gross…and stupid…and can’t swim…and they’re alcoholics.
Meanwhile, I think the DH has a cramp in his jaw, cuz he hasn’t said a word all morning. Hmmm.
I have mentioned before, my hubby is a geek. He’s a network guy…has been for a long time. He’s the reason I can even write an e-mail, or create a website. He adores technology. When he was in law school…and studying for the Bar Exam…I would find him blowing off “studying” by playing on the computer. When I say “playing”, I don’t mean he was on Facebook, or surfing porn. Not even playing solitaire. He would be writing code for a new program…or learning a new formatting language…or researching new technology. I finally said, “Hey. You will hate being a lawyer. You love technology. You should probably stay in this field.” So far, he has.
Recently I have come to terms with the idea that I am done with nursing. For real. I had to leave to take care of my MIL, and I guess I didn’t realize how quickly I would become “fusty“.
We’ve been discussing what I should do now. I still have my online retail stores. But toying with the idea of furthering my technology training. I really should never have left my job at EDS. I adored it. Oh, well.
So. I am going through some materials on the CCNA [Cisco Certified Network Associate] training. Watching videos for now. I have been exposed to this stuff for years [hubby is at the CCIE...E for expert...level] so I know most of the terms, but this lays all of it out in an A to Z, start to finish, definition type of way. Very nice. However…
My husband works from home, as do I. I work in a different room and he comes to visit when he’s on break. When I have the headset on, absorbing tech-speak, and he comes into the room, I try to wait until I am at a reasonable jumping off point to stop the recording. While I do that? He sits and stares at me. More like…gazes at me. With lust.
Today, I said, “What?”
He said, “What ‘what’?”
“You are staring at me.”
“No. Just…looking.”
“At what?”
“At you. You learning stuff.”
“Me. Learning geek stuff.”
“Yeaaaah.” *very big grin*
“This turns you on, huh?”
“Yeaaaaah. Sexy.”
“Sick.”
“Yeaaaaaah.”
Yeah, so. Men…geeks in particular…pretty funny. And easy. Did I mention that? Heh.
Just. Wow.
I used to have a blog. I used to write almost every day. I had a few readers…you know, cuz occasionally, I have a funny. Somehow it all slipped away. I haven’t written…here anyhow…in many months. A few reasons come to mind.
I started being concerned with what other people might think. When my blog was called “Write2B”, it was reasonably anonymous and I really didn’t care much what folks thought. Since then I started a business, started marketing a bit on my blog and changed it to my actual name domain. Then it mattered a little what I said and who I might offend. I posted a couple of political opinions and a bunch of flaming and fights blew out of them. It made me very uncomfortable here.
We moved and I fell into a bit of a depression. I think that’s fairly common, so I don’t think I need to belabor that…but while there is some extremely FUNNY stuff that happens in Texas, I just didn’t care enough to write about it.
I worried that my husband’s ex was reading. This came about because I figured out that MY ex’s new wife was reading. While I don’t really care that much about the latter…the former kind of flipped me out. She is a vindictive, evil, pseudo-Christian, hateful psychopath, and the idea of her having any knowledge about my life was…well, completely uncool.
So…some of those reasons still exist. Some don’t. What’s changed?
Let’s see…
I’m not depressed anymore. I don’t have a gazillion friends here and I’m not living the high life by any stretch. But, we have settled in and found some stuff about Texas and our house that really appeal to us…so we are going with it. We are still struggling financially because of pay cuts, plus we have a kid in college and another going through a difficult legal hassle over child custody. We try to help them both when we can, as well as making sure my mother-in-law has what she needs on a very meager Social Security/Disability income. But we have found a few things that are reasonably cheap [or free] and very enjoyable. Scanning the flyers for what’s on extreme sale for the freezer…making home improvements on our own, instead of paying someone to do them…grilling at home instead of eating out. Having coffee together in the pool. Just sort of blooming where I’m planted, so to speak.
Um, I also started a political blog elsewhere, so I can actually write about inflammatory things elsewhere and it doesn’t have to start fights here.
Also? I absolutely don’t give an Angora Rabbit’s furry butt whether my husband’s ex reads this or not. We have been in an 18 month court battle to finally get her off our “payroll”. This woman is barely in her 50′s, has a degree in Accounting or something and the youngest kid is 22 and has been out of the house for almost 5 years. Yet she still collects $500 a month that was originally in the court order to help with “educational expenses” for her and the kids. Unfortunately, there was never an end date set and she has taken full advantage of that fact. What kind of “Christian” takes money that was never meant for her to live on and uses it for herself…never sending a dime to the kid who’s still in college? Not once in 5 years. In case you want the math, that’s nearly $30K she has stolen from her CHILD. Nice. In the meantime, we have bought said child a used car for college transport, paid for insurance, furniture, tuition, books, clothes…whatever she needed help with, including moving her here and helping her start over after a failed relationship…we did it. I swear, I don’t understand how some women believe that they have a right to make a man “pay” for them when they no longer have the kids to use as a weapon and they no longer carry the title of “wife”. I wish the lawmakers would get over themselves and realize that once a marriage is over, it should be OVER. Child support is one thing, but this is an adult who refuses to do for herself and wants to suck from a milk bottle that we provide forever. GROW UP, YOU LOSER!
OK. So. I’m back. Whether or not anyone cares…well, doesn’t matter. But I am back.
I swear…there is nothing on TV to watch that you don’t hear about someone’s “junk”.
We have to see the commercials about men and their urinary problems, or worse. How many different drugs are there now to keep things down there, um…ready to roll? Who knew there was such a market for that anyhow? Are there that many guys in this country with borked junk?
Sure, sure…we’ve been hearing way more than I want to about female issues, too. Those women who talk to the little lady on the bathroom door need way more that something for urinary urgency. A good shrink or some anti-psychotics, maybe. And seriously, I am glad we are past pouring blue water into a pad on TV, but I really don’t get feel a need for a 1950′s style synchronized swimming number…especially when it has to do with birth control. Really? Gah.
And I know we have been subjected to more than anyone ever needs to know about John and Lorena Bobbett…something about having your junk cut off and thrown out of a moving vehicle that captures media attention.
But on Christmas Day 2009, one idiot topped them all. “The Nigerian”, as he was referred to by two terrorist planners in a communication overheard November by CIA agents, tried to blow up a plane headed into Detroit. How? Well, I am glad you asked. This guy made his UNDERWEAR into a BOMB!
A powder explosive was sewn
into the crotch of his ["girlie looking" according to my DH] garment [the comments on this link are priceless]…the detonator to which apparently didn’t work very well. He ended up catching the blanket on fire and parts of his clothing…in the process sustaining some burns that required a short hospital stay.
Of course, since we call Richard Reid [who used the same powder in his tennis shoe for his device] the “Shoe Bomber”, it stands to reason that this guy will forevermore be known as “The Underwear Bomber”.
This annoys my husband to no end.
“Anyone who tries to blow up a plane by first blowing up his crotch needs a stupider name than that.”
“You don’t think ‘the Underwear Bomber‘ is stupid enough?”
“No.”
“I don’t think ‘the Underwear Bomber‘ is going to garner a lot of respect in prison.”
“Maybe not, but they need to call him something else.”
“Like what?”
“Like ‘the idiot who tried to blow up his junk‘…”
“Really? That’s awesome, honey…”
“Shut up. Maybe ‘Roasted Nuts‘ or ‘Blistered Balls‘…?”
“That’s um, more festive…works for me…”
“I got it. ‘Toasted Junk‘.”
Thanks, Farouk, you dumbass. Now I gotta hear about your junk 24/7 on every news broadcast…and probably get MY fat old lady junk blown up on some big screen full body scan next time I fly. Very nice. I hate terrorists. Why don’t you all go practice blowing up your junk in the desert. I wish you much success.
