Tuesday, August 29, 2006

it's

Twelve eighteen aaaay m. I haven't been able to sleep since I went to sleep. It got me to thinking about smug types(permanent scowl even behind a smile), gliding on the highways in their sleek SLKs. They are not sleek. Leathery from too much sun. Or golf. Maybe she fell asleep drunk one afternoon, belly up and out, splayed on the all weather Lloyd Flanders rattan chaise lounge on the Terazzo patio.

She doesn't smoke anymore, but once in a while yearns for her salad days as the Queen of Pall Mall. She thinks of graying sexy sixty year old men, men who work with their hands, men who are older, vibrant and sexy and wear construction boots with their shorts, bodies sinewy and brown from working outside.

Her reality is living with Shamu. Her reality is too many t shirts tucked into elasticized shorts whose waistbands define nothing, white socks pulled high, plump toes tucking into a pair of Florsheim's in the summer.

The tops are down.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

i like to watch

wedding
people i don't know getting married 08.19.06




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Friday, August 25, 2006

FFF *

10. I have one wild black mutant man hair that grows on my left boob. I pluck it when I notice it. I am always freaked to see it. All of sudden "it's there".


9. I bent over in front of a frat house and tried to pick up the quarter that was super glued to the sidewalk.


8. I was really upset when E.T. went back to outer space. I cried for hours after I saw the movie.


7. I loved the little world of Sanrio in the 70's when it was totally cool and kick ass quality from Japan. I still have a few Twin Stars things.


6. One if my favorite movies as a 'kid' was called "Fade to Black". It was about this weird guy, last name "Binford" who worked at a film library and had a fixation with Jimmy Cagney.

There is a very young and unknown Mickey Rourke in this flick. Quoting a classic line from a classic, "One of these days you're gonna eat those words, STELLA" Binford pushes his wheelchair ridin' mamma down the stairs.


5. I got my nose pierced two months after Snowflake was born.


4. I have Titoi, the Man in the Maze as my tramp stamp.

UPDATE! I just googled "titoi the man in the maze" and a comment I made about my ass crack months ago is listed. Hilarious!


3. I can flip my upper eyelids out or in.


2. I have a decent vintage flashlight collection. Some of them look like space age dildos.


1. I own "SEX" by Madonna.


*Feelin' Freaky Friday



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Wednesday, August 23, 2006

One Step

Excerpt from Sex to Pizza to Photography - A Celebration of One Woman's Journey

By Ms Mamma

I had the best weekend EVER. Saturday I took Snowflake to see E. C. Scott. Waaaaaaay back in February I saw an old friend who asked me if I'd take photographs of his t-shirt designs for his website's online catalog. It actually happened and I spent Sunday doing just that. These are just a little speck of the 750+ that I took. If I could only spend everyday doing this, ahhh I'd be in heaven. Maybe I could totally stop thinking about sex*.


free
Lineup


tongue
one in every crowd


fishing
fishing... right.


cami
hello!


laugh
Archie McPhee


hookers
working it down by the river


goat
JUST the man for the job
*NOT this kind


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Tuesday, August 22, 2006

all rolled into one

DAREDEVIL

Twilight. Snowflake is riding his LikeABike down the hill, fast. I stop him by the handlebars as he zooms towards me and almost jack knifes.

"Whoa, that was too fast. You have to start slowing it down."

"Yeah mama, but it was FUN. It was fun mama, fun" he says with a twinkle in his eye turning around heading back up the hill.


SMARTASS

Today at work I shake up a bottle of chocolate milk with just a swig left. I tell him to smell how chocolatey it is. Mmm... It's so frothy and delish I encourage, trying to tempt him into finishing it.

"I used to drink that all the time when I was little. It's so yumblers," I say.

"Go ahead and drink it then."

Whaaa? What a bitchslap. In the very sweetest way of course.


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Friday, August 18, 2006

Feelin' Freaky Friday

I think I'm going to start a Friday tradition of revealing too much information and or quirky facts about myself. Lists are such nice formats so I think I'll delve in that way.

10. The first time I tried Uni(the creamy scrotal innards of the sea urchin) I feigned delight to my snarky college pals. After a night of heavy drinking, that pink creamy puddin' wound up in my friend's kitchen sink. I never ate it again.

9. I started the woods on fire when I was five or six years old. Tipped over a candle in the neighborhood fort and scattered when we realized we couldn't stop the flames.

8. Had a big time crush on Steve Martin. When I was in 4th or 5th grade I had a baseball jersey(white w/ royal blue sleeves) with him in the classic white suit (fish peeping out) printed up at "The Jock Shop."

7. When I went away to college, I wound up drunk in a high school classmates dorm room. He was not there, but his Japanese roomate who was sleeping (and woke upon hearing "water running") was and kicked me out for squatting down and peeing right there on the floor.

6. I smoked pot in front of my mother in a motel(yes, a motel, not a hotel) on a road trip through northern Montana.

5. Let a 15 year old drive my dad's Cadillac when I had just gotten my license. His friend opened the door when we were in reverse and hit a parked car, causing the front passenger door to be strangely and permanently ajar.

4. Had sex on a desk in the office. And on the floor and on the couch(I really DID used to have sex, I have to keep reminding myself).

3. Met an undercover DEA agent and massively mashed with him. He showed me his gun.

2. Stayed up until 5am drinking with a rotund Turkish hotel owner and a bunch of Russians in Istanbul. Only the Turk and I spoke english.

1. Walked with my friend Mario down Langdon Street in only our skivvies.

Those were the days.


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Heavenly Blankets Made for Angels

When Snowflake was born, I wanted to find a sweet cuddley heirloom blankee. Something akin to spun clouds. I couldn't find it. I felt up a BareFoot Dreams blanket and wondered what the hullabaloo was about. If these were the creme de la creme, I'd pass.

Two and a half years later, a special blankee finally showed up. Monday I received the simply elegant white box tied with a white satin ribbon. Inside, a carefully cozied signature blue Blankee Company Blanket was rolled and wrapped in white tissue just for him.

If Barefoot Dreams are the Cadillac of receiving blankets, this honey is a Bentley. It is that nice. It is time to pimp your crib.

The line comes in a nice selection of colors(more to come) to please any palette. I think some funky mod prints would be a nice addition to this fabulous find.

The weight is substantial and the stitching is impeccable and neat. At 29" square it is just the right size to pack for a newborn or for a toddler to snuggle. These gems are handmade in the USA. Nice. They are 100% polyester and machine washable.

Completely bordered in a very fine quality tightly woven satin(so nice it doesn't snag on rough finger tips), the gorgeous fabric is suede microfiber on one side and a poshly plush moon and stars texture on the other. It feels like kitten fur. Or imagine if pussy willows were a fabric. Like that.

It is just the special kind of fabric a baby would melt into. Or the kind of fabric an adult wants to wriggle around naked in like a baby.

These blankees would make a wonderful and special gift for someone. Perfect for angels or "on again off again" devils.


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Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Junk in My Trunk

Driving around I saw a pair of Sandhill Cranes flying low, just grazing the tippy tops of some old pines. They were so close, so large and magnificent. So beautiful and ignorant. They just do what they do.

In the old neighborhood, I saw my best friend's dad in his front yard. He was picking up some lawn debris and putting it into a trash bag.

I flashed back to our highschool years, now almost 20 years ago. A tall strong good looking man, always working outside, working with his hands. Lean. The kind of person that truly knows the meaning of hard work. Dark, dark hair and in the summer, always tan.

Here now, crouched over, picking up some leaves. He looked so small, bent over and tiny. Shrunken. White gym socks pulled up just below his thinsational knees, still tan. The raven's black gloss now stood shockingly white against his bronzed brow.

Where did the time go? The same place beauty goes, I suppose. It's a funny thing when you come to the realization that you probably aren't "cool" anymore. Trying to be a hipster when you have actual hips just doesn't cut it.

I try to ignore the fact that I haven't "made a mark" on the world. I admit that I have no supreme goal in life other than to raise a decent little boy into a man alone. I am scared to find out what happens when your parents die.

Maybe I don't know the meaning of hard work.


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Monday, August 14, 2006

In Total Darkness

in the dark
I aim the lens blindly

stop it
Snap! Back off, Lady!

nite nite
Cuteness even in total darkness.

The Naughty Farm

Yesterday I told dear Snowflake that he better enjoy his luxurious breakfast of organic cornflakes and chocolate Silk because it was going to be his last at home just as he dumped the soggy bits on his tray and snickered.

Laugh all you want, I assured him, YUK it up, because you and Charlie are off to The Naughty Farm. GRRRRRRRRRRR.

Of course I told him I would never send him to The Naughty Farm, but it did INDEED exist.

We hopped in the car and went for a much needed cruise. Why not go and look at ultra expensive cars I can't afford? Exactly the cure for what ails.

Driving by "Lake Backwash", Snowflake observed the astounding amount of algae floating on the surface. Chartreuse green with a lily and a lotus here and there he peeps,

"Look at the skank on the water, mamma." This is exactly what I say to him when we drive over the bridge and close to the waterline.

"That's right. And did you know that's what they serve you for breakfast at The Naughty Farm? A big slimey bowl full of pond skank," I say glancing into the rearview mirror.

He looks quickly, our eyes meet, smiling as he says,

"Mamma would NEVER take me to the The Naughty Farm, ever."

And he's right(For the moment...bwahaha).



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Sunday, August 13, 2006

Murder on the Highway

The gentle patter of the rain began in the early afternoon. It continues while the deeply sueded darkness eats the beams of my headlights as I make my way home.

Steamy fog rises, a flinging flash across the road, a white belly sails through the air just in front of me. Beligerant and proud, the silent toads gather to moon themselves on the warm tar in the night.

I cannot avoid them as I captain my 4000 pound rubber wheeled press of death down the road.

There is nothing to sense, no little bump to feel. I imagine the pressure giving way like a big fresh sugary mouth full of bubblegum and I suck in, an inverted bubble.

SPLOOCH. And nothing more. Careening around a curve in a low lying area, the massacre is revealed. There are hundreds, hundreds!

It was murder on the highway.




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Days Like This

I knew within minutes upon waking that I wanted to OPT OUT. F! F! F! The Darling Demon began by innocently scratching the headboard with a gel ink pen. Maybe a Magic Eraser would get it out. I just F-ed it up even more. It looks like shit. Pillows, lots and lots of pillows are a necessity, not an accessory.

Throwing his expanding and collapsing glow in the dark sphere at (coincidentally) his string of glow in the dark planets, he missed, sending the orb spiraling off the top of the lamp where I had a night light balanced on the very apex(this to keep from idle hands). It fell off and splintered the bulb into a billion microscopic shards.

While I was picking up glass I could barely see, Dr. Evil emptied an entire bottle of Molton Brown shower gel on the floor. Ugh.

I'm feeling beyond the normal pleasantries so let me just say earlier in the manana he shit his pants. A vegetarian dump so foul, I thought I had to double bag it. Growing more and more irritated by the unfolding events, I was mystified as to why I was still smelling nasty garlicky wreckage.

WTF!

The frosting on the cake- the dog was sick and shit on my sparkling clean kitchen floor(yes I scoured yesterday per my ritual).

DISGUSTING!

My sprinkley twinkley day of shiney goodness was now ass blacked into oblivion. Oh the humanity!


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Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Full Moony

La Luna came up big and full, hanging low, a glowing orange orb looking too heavy to float in the sea of the velvet navy sky. How nice it would be to sail away in a pea green boat tonight. Nicer still to cut a wedge for a cheesy snack.

The silence of the Slaab and the sound of the highway was peaceful. Snowflake defeated and limp in his carseat, one more day's worth of mayhem extinguished at last. It was a Calgon Moment, minus the tub.

Last night we went for a walk in the park. Devoid of carnies and chaos, the trash containers were now overflowing with the remains of the County Fair. On a trail I found the dumped and pilaged belongings of an old man who worked for the amusement company.

His company I.D. cards were there. A black pair of 30W 30L Levis and t-shirts and matches and prescriptions and stuff and stuff and stuff. All of his stuff. A large manila envelope held his birth certificate and discharge papers(he had to be in his 70's as his discharge was in 1955)from the service. And papers from the V.A. A big padded envelope held pictures of what must be his grandaughter graduating from kindergarten or something.

They were all soaked and the colors were all melding together. Everything was ruined. I found a letter from his daughter dated 12.07.03. I kept this and his emplyee I.D. from 2006.

Clyde has a kind round face. He wears small wire rimmed glasses and has a slight mustache. He is clean cut and looks decent. He's carried this letter around with him for almost three years. When I saw all of his belongings and such personal things left behind I thought only of two possible scenarios- either he is an addict and left without his things or someone killed him.

I thought the least I could do is send this letter and possibly the last photograph of him to his daughter. I couldn't let it be thrown away. I called the police and later from the living room window, I saw an officer going through his things in the park by the light of his headlights. I wonder what happened to him. My heart goes out to his daughter, not knowing but caring about this man, her father.

Part of me wants to believe in fairy tales when I see a moon this beautiful. All marvel at this very same sphere yet it's different for each person. I hope for some understanding between my father and myself. I want to feel a meaningful bond with him. Deep down I know we will never click and the moon isn't made of cheese, even in Wisconsin.


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Saturday, August 05, 2006

Penis Bird

Everyone tells you boys are full of piss and vinegar. Not a two year old, for the love of gawd! I thought I had it made, a perfect little cherubic love bug. What was a temper tantrum? Really, don't ask me then because I had no clue. He who could do no wrong eventually began to walk and assert his independence. He no longer needed me, was no longer fascinated by the wonder of the Mamma Bird. After a brief phase of biting, we were back on track. The love affair was never lost. All was well in Rome.

Now it seems as though we're headed for divorce court or the Ides of March in August. My once breastfeeding, still co-sleeping attached former sweet pea is asserting his two year old dominance. A friend comforted me once by telling me that two year boys have the highest level of testosterone they will ever have in their entire lives.

This makes complete sense as he emerges from his bath and seriously slaps at his business, grunting, growling, even wrinkling up his nose and howling like a beast. There's no calming the rager down, if I try to tell him to chill he'll come back with something robust and ribald like,

"Oh Mamma, you penis bird!" and laugh crazily. Yes, new words and ways of putting them together are just magical and mysterious.

Recently he's gone completely WWF on me. He'll jump on my back, kick, bite and slap. He thinks it's funny. It's completely unacceptable behavior to me. Patience is so very precious and I find myself a bathroom "shut in" to escape his evil ways. Yes, this time the love affair is REALLY over.

Then he pushes his face to the glass door and says in the sweetest little chipmunkish voice,

"I'm sorry mamma, I apologize," I melt like buttah. And I'm in love, just for a second, until he tries to whack me again.



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Thursday, August 03, 2006

About the House

While the kind of sexy neighbor guy mowed his lawn and weed whacked shirtless, Snowflake slumbered, I ventured forth. The county fair is taking place across the street from our quaint palace and "people" are coming out of the woodwork(crawling out from under rocks, emerging from the sewers etc).

the plane
Annoying advertising plane circling my house, I mean the park.


chairs
I tryst with the Invisible Man here on balmy eves.


catalpa shadows
Catalpa shadows on Fair-Goer's Automobile


hen
THE hen that will kick your ass posing mightily in the rock wall.


flower
Flowers that bloom in the front yard, seeded by themselves.


alien
Shhh...the alien sex slave I keep chained in the basement.



Wednesday, August 02, 2006

A Wonderful Way to Start People

I was reading greeting cards this morning and came across this little nugget-
"Babies- What a wonderful way to start people!" No one thinks that the freaks they meet, the rude asses that yank their chains or the stinky weirdos encountered used to be these innocent little moldable dough balls of love.

But they were.

Coming into the world, babies are like astronaut explorers, free floating in the warm sea of the womb, tethered by the umbilical cord to their mother. How shocking it must be to be pushed with such force out into a harsh environment.

They squeeze, squeeze, squeeze their enormous bobble heads through the crotch in the tree of life and cry. Pulling a tshirt or turtleneck over their heads in later years is in some way like this primitive moment. It is a hateful reminder. They cry.

The gravity of the situation is immediately felt. Breathe! Slap. Maybe maternal instinct never kicked in. All of the things relied on are gone. The tight snuggly home is now across the hall in a football field sized bed.

What happens between then and now is everyone's personal mystery. The weirdos, the freaks, the asses weren't always so.


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