tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85870086911924931832024-03-12T18:30:01.167-07:00Big Mama's BakerySERVIN' UP THE BULLSHIT HOT AND FRESH!Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-50292521330585489602013-03-14T17:37:00.004-07:002013-03-14T17:37:55.895-07:00"..The internet holds many strange and wonderful things...and theres porn!" ~Stevil KinevilHello again, babies. Its been so very long since Ive sat down to bask in the glow that radiates from Big Mama's Bakery page. But here I is.<br />
somehow feeling like that prodigal son, but with a way better rack, having gone out into the world for not much more than a minute and returning home with another dose of those bothersome life lessons. Ya know, lets just get this straight, lessons can suck it .At my age, one would think that not only are they unnessasary, they are pretty much the equivalent of that old saying that went something like "don't try and teach a pig to sing, it won't work and you just piss off the pig."<br />
Well, life, this piggy would really appreciate you keeping those music classes to yourself. Im fucking tone deaf.<br />
That said, the past many months have brought me many new ones. About myself. About others. About the perception of truth, lies, and where we dwell somewhere in the muck between. About just when we think we have it all figured out, it unravels in our hands.<br />
To discover that someone we thought was so important, was truly a creation for public consumption. To realize that the joke I thought I was in on, was on me.<br />
Tough stuff. Shakes you to the very core. But I guess thats what the end result of that kind of thing is, whats meant to happen. Tear it all down and search for the cornerstone of who you are. Then collecting the remains and turning around to go back home.<br />
That is, if one is fortunate to find that cornerstone in the wreakage.<br />
Now I know that there are those who are not blessed with it.For them, every step is calculated,every word, every movement is meant to step in, step up.That their lives are weak reflections of what they see as love, success, friendship, power. They watch, study, absorb. Practice in the mirror until its time to take their act on the road. Literally.<br />
Hmmmm...<br />
That kind of machine never stops.Never can be filled because the emptiness is too deep. And no matter how well orchestrated the shtick, when it comes crashing down that machine will use whats holding on as a flotation device. <br />
Glad I could swim.<br />
And you know, at the end of the day, no matter how painful my lesson was, the fact that I could rummage through the rubble of that castle built on sand,and find my cornerstone, makes me the lucky one.<br />
Til next time.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-9142594630955709812012-11-08T06:43:00.000-08:002012-11-08T06:43:04.407-08:00Hello.....is there anybody in there???Me thinks its time.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-15713884351522835892011-04-28T09:23:00.000-07:002011-04-28T09:23:43.883-07:00An Irish LullabyGreetings, babies. As always, its been a while. On Sunday, my ma-in-law, Pat, or as I lovingly refer to her, "The Killarney Killjoy", passed away.She was 79 years old. and I loved her.<br />
She really wasnt a killjoy. Actually, she was pretty hilarious, as long as she was focusing on someone else. At about 4'10, and 100 lbs, she was small, but like a homemade M-80, she could kaboom with no warning. She was never loud, never profane, well unless you count the time she said"motherfucker" and even that came out "maetherfakr" shit, that was a night ill never forget, but she could administer an ass whooping you didnt know you were even getting till you got home and noticed the bruises. Passive/ Agressive doesnt begin to descibe her. On a recent visit, my dear friend Toni and I were talking with her and I mentioned someone who passed by, wondering who he was. "He is just visiting his father" she said. " But if you were at Mass this morning you would have known that" After 27 years I finally had an independent witness. Toni thought it was golden. That was Pat.<br />
Pat was the mother of 7 kids, Grandma to 20, Great Gram to 7. I came to the family, at 21, divorced with an 11 month old daughter of my own. Now, my husband was the pick of that litter, and Mom knew it. Her best child, only a baby himself, and here he is carrying someone elses life. It must have worried her sick. But she never once made me feel less than her own children. She loved me and punished me just like I was her own. And more important, she loved my daughter. Never did a day go by that she didnt make my child feel loved. She was and always will be "Sticker" to Tiffany, my oldest. Love notes in the mail always had stickers the kids loved to much. No event in our lives was too small for her. Maybe it was because she knew I had no family of my own, but really I think she just loved that much. <br />
She was sharp, and oppinionated, but she would be the first one to be confused as to why everyone just couldnt "get along" She would say something that would start a friggin shitstorm, shake her head and walk away wondering why everyone was so pissed off all the time.She was the first to point out any flaw, but the next minute she was telling someone you were perfect. Keeps you on your toes, and fully medicated to be around that, but, that was Pat.<br />
A devout Catholic, there were two things you NEVER bullshitted about to her . The Pope, and her mother country, Ireland. In the early '80's someone gave me a "Pope on a Rope" bath bar. I thought it was the funniest fucking thing. She was PISSED. Party foul of epic magnitude. That and when I refered to my dumping of bottles after a party as "Irish wind chimes". She kicked my ass from here to the old county. But she was the one, when I was having a hard time with my Catholicism, that I would go to. She would sit for as long as I needed, answering questions the only way she knew how.Some of the answers were just not good enough for me. Until at one point she took my hands and said " Thats why they call it faith". At 21 thats a head of cabbage being pounded up my ass. At 49, its my beacon of light. <br />
On Saturday we go to honor her. Everyone there will bring with them a lifetime of experiances they had with her. And i will bet my soul not one of us will recognize the Pat that the others knew. She was just that special and different. Im gonna miss her notes, her phone calls, her wheezy "Muttley" laugh. Im gonna miss her unsolicited advise about the evils of t.v. video games and too many potato chips. Im gonna miss her shitty fruitcake and her care packages that were wrapped in so much strapping tape i dreaded opening them.Im gonna miss her 5o'clock martini time, no matter where she was, she pulled out her fully stocked traveling mini bar, and mixed up perfect Bombay martinis, stired, never shaken. Im gonna miss seeing how proud she was of her son.Im gonna miss how she loved my children. Im gonna miss her honesty and her deception. She was the poster child for confused emotions. And I loved her. No confusion there.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-89199487739961285532011-02-25T16:41:00.000-08:002011-02-25T16:41:08.708-08:00"...And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson....."Greetings again, babies. Glad to be back. Today, while going about my attempt at " livin' like I was dying", i met a woman who i had a conversation with. We both commented that we are appriciating our lives more now in the end of our first half-century. I havent figured out if its natures way of saying, "Give up rat, your ass is trapped" and accepting it, or (my choice)if we really ARE getting better.<br />
<br />
Now, for you who may not like reading about excessive menstuation, hair in places that no human being should have, and/or granny sex, you have permission to leave the classroom. <br />
<br />
Seriously, because i'm a glass not only a half empty, but also backwashed in kinda gal,<br />
Im gonna give you the downsides first:<br />
<br />
Shark week sucks when your old. you think it was bad at 12? You will be begging for the days when you were nomal and just writhing in pain. Add double-bagging and not being able to leave your house for more than one half hour at a time. Or risk penelty of having to have your drivers' seat cleaned by the car detailers. Again.<br />
<br />
Vericose veins. I found the answer for that. Tattoo it, bitches.<br />
<br />
Wrinkles<br />
Sagging neck skin<br />
Stretchmarks. What the hell, tattoo those too.<br />
<br />
Acne. Yea that shit showed up at 30 for me. Right when i hated myself the most.<br />
Fat. Its not just a douchey relative that stays till you starve them out anymore. It likes it here and it takes some really crazy shit to get it to leave. <br />
Add to that all the other stuff like losing your fucking mind, and Viola!!! Yep. Welcome to my world. I just did not appriciate the fact that bouncing a quarter off my ass was awesome to say the least.Frig, if i would have known I would have charged for it. But thats me, a day later and a dollar short.<br />
Now, lets examine just a snippett of the reasons we "women of a certain age" rock.<br />
<br />
When i was young, I didnt know what I wanted to be. Now, well, I still may not know what I want to be, but i sure as Hell know what I DONT want to be.<br />
<br />
We can look for the first time into the future without being afraid. We know that if the next 10 years are as bitchin as the last, we are lucky gals. Who does that at 25?? At 25 you dont give two shits.( Maybe because bouncing that quater has you a bit sidetracked) But, well , you know what i mean.<br />
<br />
We have our God. and I say that in any way you wanna take it. For me, I know that I have a place, and many purposes in many lives. I have higher love. (I dig that song) We are strands in the weave, strong and important. I see it and I feel it. And I earned that right. I aint saying that i dont know alot of together kids. Im just saying, i really wanna know them when they hit 50. And for the other young 'uns, you are a constant source of amusement to us. Whats easier than white kid problems???? Fuckin'A. right.<br />
<br />
Sex. I may not LOVE my body,yet, but I sure as Hell am having a ball in it.<br />
<br />
Our convictions are pretty concrete. What i thought meant something at 25 makes me weep with embarrassment now. Im hopeing I give everything I see and experiance equal respect, not passing judgements on someone or something before I have enough information to do so. I thought i was so open minded. Frig.<br />
But here i am. Now I wont just look at you and call you a hemeroid. Ill wait for you to open your noise hole then ill call you one. Evolved, I tells ya.<br />
<br />
We really know that"it"wont kill us. That old saying,"What dont kill ya makes ya stronger" Yea. One of a handful of truths. Bukowski said something to the effect of he had so many times thought he wouldnt make it through, and at some point laughed because he had said it so many times before. Wish I could find that passage.Uh, actually, we may wanna skip trying to quote him. Bad example, but, you know what I mean. It makes us who we are, and thats my point. At this moment Im seeing the sum of my days so far. Looking back on what was, seeing what is, and still strong enough to shape what will be. Living in the moment is still beyond my grasp, but I think I can swing living in the year. I can see things moving into place, see myself shedding what I carried with me, but taking a souvineer of it all. Placing it into the puzzle that will ultimatly be held for everyone to see. When that day comes, I hope that I will be what I cherish most. A good friend. A loved and loving member of the web. And if Im really lucky,maybe someone will say "...God, she friggin' made me laugh"Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-5153293817366854822011-01-25T10:04:00.000-08:002011-01-25T10:04:34.818-08:00"We're on a mission from God"Well, first thing this morning I open up my MSNBC,and whatta ya know? The heading of "How kids can ruin your marriage" hits me like a punch in the mouth. Dang. Actually,this has been in the forfront lately of what little mind I have left. Freeking kids. Oh, it all starts out innocent enough. Little booties, soft blankets, sniffing their little Baby Magic scrubbed heads. Oh, the siren song of the womb. Well, here is some advise. Muzzle your uterus, bitches, cuz that turns into "The song that never ends" real quick.Trust me, ive been digging out for real close to 29 years now, and havent made it. and Im not even counting my 2 beautiful grandkids. No, im STILL a card carring PTA, i need a powdered wig made out of cotton balls, i spent my lunch money on cookies, you cant call the other alter boys "SuckSacks" (well, not during Mass, anyway) participant. I startred this shit in 1982, ya think i would have found the exit by now. This is all Gods doing, by the way. Yes, i mean it in all ways. My oldest was brought into this world kinda the old fashioned way, with absolutly no thought other than "Wow, it seems like baby time!" My youngest, well, he is The Burning Bush Baby. And im not refering to the fucking 4 inch episiotomy they had to perform to get his massive head out of my chuckie, either. God TOLD me to make way for him. Swear on my life, hope to die, needle in the eye shit. . Almost 18 years after my first. So please pardon me if I laugh and maybe pee a bit (see aformentioned chuckie damage listed above) at all the shmachta about how these human Chupacabras complete us, bring us so much joy, will be such a comfort in our old age..... someone call me at least 12 hours before these beneys start up, will ya, cuz I wanna be sober for it. I guess the bottom line is, sometimes, we are just the vehichle. It all stops being about us, whether we know it, or ultimatley like it or not. And if were really lucky, every now and again, we do get a kick outta the job. But Lord, dont be making no more of those 2 a.m. calls to me anymore. Im hip to your tactics. And Ive got my phone on mute.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-77632403049971778062011-01-19T13:01:00.000-08:002011-01-19T13:01:48.536-08:00Someone to watch over me.......Hey kids, its been a while. Not that i havent had shit to say, just then when im in my "creative" mojo, by the next day, Ive forgotten what the frig I was so impressed with the night before. Kinda like beer goggles for us literatti. Bwahaha. Anywho, my loves in the great altered-State of Utah have refreshed my memory, and im baaaaak.<br />
<br />
Next month, my family will be celebrating something that folks do all the time. The baby shower for my niece Tisha and her awesome husband Matthew, in honor of our newest, little Zoe. This little girl is so special in so many ways, as all babies are, but, actually, shes kinda our special gift. On Father's Day, 2009, her big sister, Teigan, was murdered, by her own father, who's name I will never infect my mouth with, or honor that he ever existed on this Earth as anything but a messanger of ruin. On that day, everything that I thought I knew about was thrown into chaos. I watched in so much fear, scared cold that the people I loved the most , that there was no way they could survive this. My Big sis, Mikey, Teigan's grandmother, my closest friend, who raised me and saved my life more times than I dare think about, her reason for living was gone. Just, gone. What do I do? What do I say? Because of my own losses in my life, Ive got a pretty strong grip on what I believe is our destiny. Im the first one to speak up in my infinite wisdom....Father has his plan...The book is written..... all my brilliant, spiritual golden chains shattered by the sheer perversion of this moment in time that changed EVERYTHING. So we gathered, and we grieved. And believe me, up until that time I thought the reference "broken heart" was just something someone sang about. That week, with the people that mean so much to me, I laughed and cried more than I had ever done in my life. And once again, God showed his grace. We began to breathe again. Slowly, bitterly,for sure. And He stayed. And this time, Teigan became his messanger.<br />
Since then, we have had some beautiful moments in our lives. Most notible the wedding of my dear Tisha to a wonderful, loving man named Matthew. Which, um, incidentally, I officiated. Hey, when I marry 'em, they stay married. Little did we know the day we stood before God, that our little Zoe was already there. And, yes, in some freeky way I take more than a bit of credit for that, too. Sorry, Matthew. Yep, that lil chica is gonna have a charmed life. This is OUR baby. Our gift from God, and from Magoo too.Because I never got a chance to tell her how special she was. And for that, Im the poorer. Teigan's life is now the touchstone of how I love. Be open,honest, and never wait, not one second, to speak your intentions.No regrets. No shame. The people I love know it. I am a proud strand in every web . And that, Im telling you, is all I need.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-50890301384608821932011-01-19T11:44:00.000-08:002011-01-19T11:45:02.906-08:00Dear Big Mama...Make a damn post. That is all. And I love you.FanStaciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03567251055234442648noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-21481525316391597942010-12-24T12:49:00.001-08:002010-12-24T13:24:44.660-08:00What if God was one of us.......I guess this is the time of year when we all are supposed to be thinking about God. I think about God all the time. I talk to God all the time. Were cool like that. And its the time of year I guess, that makes me kinda wonder what He would be into. I mean, Im pretty positive he would love FaceBook. And dirty jokes. Especially dick jokes. He would love to make us laugh till we pissed our pants, then He'd be the first to tell everybody. I think He's a hugger, and he's got really great dental hygiene. He loves sweets, and his cholesterol may be a bit high. He would love those Vibram FiveFinger shoes, but He really never dug Birkinstocks, contrary to popular belief. He loves rock&roll, and He tolerates rap, but only because He likes cannibis.He isnt fond of the word booty. Unless its used in pirate talk. And hes a great dancer. I think at times He has to stop himself cuz He may have a tendancy to wait to talk instead of listening. And He loves the smell of Old Spice. And he isnt a big wine drinker, but, every now and then he will take a sip of Bombay & 7 Up. I think He is most worried that we wont put our pride aside and let people love us. And I know He is really happy when we do.Yea, I dont think anyone would ever have a hard time recognizing Him. He is everything that makes us smile and feel. So whatever you are doing today, Im hoping that you will have a reason to smile. And if ya dont, hop on FaceBook. Thats where He finds his best dick jokes.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-24890004627657265752010-12-20T11:01:00.000-08:002010-12-20T11:01:21.597-08:00Stand behind me, Satan!I really need someone to tell me why I hate Oprah. Really, when people ask me,I cant give them a good answer. By all accounts, this person has done nothing but good things, right? She is the poster child for do-it-yourself success, overcoming the the "hurdles" of being poor, ethnic and female ( wow) and becoming an icon so well known and powerful, that just the mention of her name sends people opening and emptying theyre pockets, and worse, marking the ballots . From the first time i heard her, I knew there was something diabolical going on. Shes scary. And obnoxious. And powerful. And scary. Oh, I said that. I really want to learn more about her, but, to do that would mean delving into the gaping maw of evil. I just know it. Its like have you ever walked into a strange house and you KNEW it was haunted? I have, but, um, thats another story. Ya just know when something aint what its painted to be. Am i the only one?? I cant be. When you have hundreds, thousands of people dying for the chance to sit in her audiance, just to get up close, and well, I guess the hopes of getting a free pair of cashmere socks or a car or whatever carrot shes got out for the flock, that dont hurt, either. Im telling ya, one of these days were gonna find out the truth. I hope Im wrong about her. But Im not fighting for tickets to be in her studio. Cuz the way i see it, pretty soon she will be giving away that trip to Mars for those lucky few hundred that braved the hours of waiting in the cold Chicago weather. And Im pretty sure that new book she loves so much, we will find out, too late, that its a cookbook. You know the one. TO SERVE MAN.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-69785134433019709552010-12-13T11:11:00.000-08:002010-12-13T11:11:34.129-08:00braaiinss .... part deuxYa know, I think we should just keep our undead the way we found them. On a dreary day, in an unidentified cemetary in upstate Pennsylvania. They're coming to get you, Barbara,,,,,,,Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-41421795118959758922010-12-13T11:08:00.001-08:002010-12-24T13:24:44.672-08:00Braaiinnns....Pat DeuxBig Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-83187225030431491712010-12-13T09:54:00.001-08:002010-12-13T11:12:46.225-08:00Braaiiinnsss..........Looks like zombies are the new vampires. Its time for me check out, cuz brother, there aint NOTHING worse. I have had a re-occuring nightmare since i was a little kid. Im laying in bed at my Gram's house, looking at the drape covered window. There is a small hole in the drapes, just about eye level. Just as im dozing off, a shadow falls behing the drape, and i look at the hole, and i see an eye peeking at me. ZOMBIE EYE!!! Now, in my dream , I never actually see the zombie, but, i know a friggin zombie eye when I see it, i dont need to hang out for face time with the bitch. A childs dream? Yea, bad enough. But now the fuckers can run! And apparantly pick locks, climb fences, use tools... Whats next?? Driving cars so they can mow us down before they gobble our grey matter???? The more writers try and evolve them, the worse they get. I just finished a book, Handling The Dead by John Ajvide Lindqvist, the author of Let The Right One In, great book, right? Well, in Handling, hes got the bastards, now refered to as "the reliving" as bodies that just get up, and mindlessly going back to doing the same boring shit they were used to doing in life, sitting at theyre desks, shuffling paperwork ,etc. No chasing, no growling, no crunching of skull to get to the sweet gooey center. I kinda felt sorry for them, i mean , bad enough you cant even stay dead, but now you gotta go back to your job collecting carts at the Wal-Mart for eternity?? No fucking way.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-6531015073440280142010-12-11T17:33:00.000-08:002010-12-11T17:33:06.925-08:00Baby sister, I was born game.......Dang. I LOVES me a good ol' western. Always have. and I really could'nt tell you what the big whoop is. i mean, I'm not a big fan of killing the natives, horses scare the shit outta me, and unless im the one doing the shooting, gunfights dont really send me. But you slap a leather vest and ten-gallon on John Wayne, crank up a sweeping sountrack and just HINT that there is some dirty dealin' going on in Dodge, and brother, you own me. So, the other day when I was watching t.v. and I saw....wait, I gotta get my breath.... the trailor for the remake of "True Grit"... well, lets just say a change of drawers was in order. TRUE GRIT!!!! Sweet creepin' Jesus! One of my favorite movies of all time, actually starring men that i would pay money to see?!!!!!!! Well, Merry Christmas to me, cuz I got all I need. I think this movie made such an impression on me because it had such a strong female character. One that I felt was really respected by the hero. And maybe cuz, John Wayne friggin' rocked. Anyways, so began my love for my westerns, which most people couldnt really grasp. The Serchers, The Sons of Katie Elder,The Cowboys, The Shootist, damn... and dont even THINK of speaking to me when Im watching Rio Bravo. And yes. I can sing every word to "My Rifle, My Pony, and Me". Give me a weekend with nothing to do but catch a buzz and watch Clint Eastwood, that poncho draped over his shoulder, hat slung low, cigarillo burning at his strong, hard mouth....Shit man, empty your pistoles, Pale Rider, ill be right here when you re-load. So, needless to say, Im more than a bit happy to see that the good folks at Where Movies Are Made are doing somthing for me for a change. Actually remaking a classic with the finest actors I could think of for the parts. I mean, Jeff Bridges as Rooster Cogburn.... fucking stellar. You all know where im gonna be on Dec. 22. See ya there, podner.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-52528345192535538842010-12-10T11:23:00.000-08:002010-12-10T11:23:24.340-08:00What a drag it is, getting old........Last night while watching The Daily Show, Jon Stewarts guest was an actress named Michelle Williams. Seems that this adorable waif is what, im guessing , an accomplished actress, and is apparantly an "It" girl. After staring at her sweet face for a few minutes, and commenting on how cute her haircut was, Gerard muted the sound, looked at me and said, "Who the fuck IS she?" In that moment, I believe i experienced what humans have been doing for ages... I realized i am now ,officially, out of the loop. I make jokes about living in the 70's and liking it there, but, really, Im pretty hip to the jive, yo. Frig, I subscribe to Rolling Stone, not much that gets by me. It was actually a mental 'snap', to be faced with this. I see this person, who obviously is famous enough to be his guest, and all i can say is , "Um, I think she was married to, um, you know the kid who died, um, the Joker dude..." It seems the only way i can even identify new actors these days is if they are starring in a biography about rock n' roll. I mean, I found out who the hell Kristen Stuart was just cuz she played Joan Jett.(and I wasnt impressed) Ya see where Im going here? Its not like i really even feel im missing anything, it just feels like the world has moved on. So now what happens? Do i take my place, as others have, and admit that it all doesnt belong to me anymore? How can it possibly be that time already? Is this the part where I start my decent? Is this the time to aknowledge the Crone, ever so lightly, tapping at my consciousness? Or to hear the the screams coming from the darkness of the half century mark,snapping close, closer, at my heels??? If they want me, they're gonna have to try alot harder. Cuz i blew my eardrums out at AC/DC, and i cant hear a fucking thing.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-74544236269457694942010-12-09T12:44:00.000-08:002010-12-09T12:44:43.158-08:00Oingo Boingo Farewell - No One Lives Forever<iframe height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/bKSdUTV_sb0?fs=1" frameborder="0" width="425"></iframe>Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-88883666202956351352010-12-09T12:41:00.000-08:002010-12-09T12:41:11.076-08:00Everything Ive ever needed to know, I learned from Oingo BoingoSocrates. Nietzsche. Alfred E Nueman. Great thinkers all. But for me, its Danny Elfman. That man is a philosofical one stop shop. Dont hurt that his wisdom is hooked up with best musical compositions that I have pretty much determined, will be the soundtracks of my eternity. I mean, ill be in my hospital bed, wont know my own name, but i guaran-fuckin-tee ill be humming "Cinderella Undercover. Got Questions? he's got the answers. Your day got ya down?? "Just Another Day" is for you. Need a modern-day telling of The Prodigal Son? click on "Home Again". Fear of the afterlife? "Dead Man's Party"! Your mortality keeping ya up at night? Take "We Close our Eyes" and call me in the morning. Truth about our stinking society?? "NO Spill Blood" and "Only a Lad". Nuff said there, no?? Has you paranoia been getting in the way of even the most menial of tasks? "Nothing To Fear". Better than fucking Lithium!!!! That 1st dance for your wedding? "Not My Slave". Screw that "Sea of Love" shit. Do you still doubt this man is a genius? Jam "Elevator Man''. Then tell me you dont see Obama in your periferal vision. Dont swallow that barrel of your .45 till you at least play "Only Makes Me Laugh" at least twice. See!!!!! Cant do it!!!!!! Ahhhh, magic, I tells ya.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-81435347303955812742010-12-08T12:02:00.000-08:002010-12-08T12:02:44.534-08:00Shine On, You Crazy DiamondToday is my little brother Jim's bithday. December has, for reasons too numerous to list, yet no real reason at all,has always been my least favorite month. December is a FEELING month. i dont dig that much. I prefer to feel what I want when i want, and December, well, it had the effect of an unwanted suitor on my soul.My brother is the human enbodiment of December. We grew up, he and I, both adopted from different families, only 15 months apart, in what was then middle America, but is now one of the most notorious ghettos in Rap legend & lore. He and I did everything that kids do,took every lump kids take, and fell into every snare that is out there. All the while, he was my champion, my protecter, and my biggest fan, while I slapped him silly, scratched him to bloody shreds and locked him outdoors in his underwear at every opporotunity.The snares became more seductive as we became teenagers, and it was in those days that he became caught in what became his path in life, his drug addiction.The facinating part of becoming a drug addict is its like a time capsule. no matter how many days or years go by, you forever stay the same person you were the day you trade your soul. The remainder of that life, even in sobriety, is lived thru the egocentric, self-serving, and means-justify-the-end eyes of a teenage boy.As our lives moved on,relationships were built children were born, loves were won and lost, and all the while he exsisted in this life i wish i didnt recognize. We were children of addiction, and the things we swore would never happen were our reality.So I checked out.Justified by the rhetoric I rehearsed..."I cant have that shit around my kids".... I bailed. Today, like every Dec.8th for the past 30 years, give or take a day, I think about him. his big soulfull eyes, so dark that you could see your own refection in them, allways a tilt of sorrow, until, of course, he would get you laughing so hard you would piss yourself. Then those eyes would turn just a bit soft and yet devilishly sharp, and seemed to take such pleasure in the fact he could bring me such pleasure. As if he were grateful to be giving me that gift.He is equal parts Peter Pan, Billy the Kid, and fucking Don Rickles.Everything he has ever done wrong, and I dont think even he could remember all of it, never touched him. He is the epitome of the word "Teflon" nothing ever stuck to him. No squaring the accounts, no paying the piper. His angels flipped the bill, over, and over, and over. But he could never get the pink slip on his life. I could go forever. So, today is his birthday.He is 47 years old today. And I am counting on the fact that those angels are there with you Heimy. I wish I could have afforded to pick up your tabs. I love you.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-344260617912911792010-12-07T12:48:00.000-08:002010-12-07T12:48:24.865-08:00Pearl Harbor and Kathy Griffin in a bikini. Two things that made me sad today.Pearl Harbor...'nuff said for the sad part. Now on to the really shocking shit. WTF is Kathy doing out in her skivvies??? She looks awesome, whats the problem, right??? The problem is she is KATHY GRIFFIN. She has now stepped into the celebrity Twilight Zone that she has so famously blasted in her career. Will she now be the kind of person she hates the most? I fucking hope not, cuz she was a hero. C'mon Kathy,we loved you the way you were.Work out, get lipo, whatever, but do it for yourself, not public consumption. Your way too good for that.<br />
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You've been served.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-11320346056053204632010-12-07T12:30:00.001-08:002010-12-24T13:24:44.683-08:00Pearl Harbor and Kathy Griffin in a bikini. Two things we never should have seen.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8587008691192493183.post-68233675502664604252010-12-07T10:14:00.000-08:002010-12-07T10:14:06.400-08:00HEY! LOOK AT ME! IM A DOUCHEBAG!!!That got ya. as you can see im just figuring this stuff out. hang in there with me, i think it will be fun.Big Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00450505423453987207noreply@blogger.com1