Lexus Times Square PhotoMosaic
My four kids are posted here as well as one of Joe and one of my sister and myself.
Enter my email {leah(a+)leahpeahdotcom} in the address bar and then click on each photo to see where they are in the mosaic.
Please Trap R. Kelly in the Closet
I’m relieved to know that I am not the only person that finds the whole eternity-long song sequence by R. Kelly not only unnecessary but completely elementary school. The first time I saw a part of what I believe was the #2 sequence, I thought it might be a joke. Who would be so literal in the words and action? I was suddenly spun back to 2nd grade when my best friend, Janice, and I would make up skits from Sesame Street. She was always Ernie and I was always Bert except for the one time I was Big Bird and did a terrible job and people laughed. I was quick to resolve to never be anyone but Bert from then on. Buttons on sweaters and stamps collections and pigeons I could do but don’t ask me to be 7 feet tall with yellow feathers. Anyway, Janice and I would make up these skits that our teacher would let us perform for the whole class right before recess. And since we were 7 years old, the actions and the words we said were pretty straight-forward. “Now were going to go to the kitchen and see if we can find the large pan for spaghetti.” Walking, walking, walking. “Now let’s see if we can find the noodles in the pretend cupboard.” Opening cupboards pretending to look for noodles. “Now let’s go outside. Let’s get our sweaters from the closet.” Closet. Closet.
I could go on but there is no need because Hole City has done such a great job.
The video does deliver some classic moments sure to live in the memory, usually in the form of a question: Why is he looking for someone in a dresser drawer? Why was she wearing that wig in the first place? Does he know how stupid that green-screen driving sequence looks? And we promise you, the next time you see a police car, a voice in your head will sing “Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo” in imitation of a siren, just like R. does in Chapter 4.
And because the entire lengthy sequence makes little to no sense unless you’ve watched it maybe 17 times to figure out what the hell he’s talking about but you don’t want to watch it that many times, please god no, but you want to be able to sufficiently make fun of it with your friends, go here and read the cliff notes from Something Awful where they give you a list of characters, a flow chart, and word explanations in case you don’t know what some of Mr. R.’s terms mean.
Glossary of Difficult Words and Phrases:
Beretta: Refers to a brand of handgun manufactured in the USA.
Shuh, shuh: Cathy makes this sound to indicate to Sylvester that he should be quiet.
Y’all ass is crazy: Your entire ass is crazy.
And then there are the essay questions:
Essay questions:
1. Why does Chuck look for Sylvester under the dresser? How big do you imagine the dresser to be?
2. In chapter four, what does Sylvester mean by “a tear fell up out my eye?”
3. When Sylvester’s wife is describing the string of friends that led to the policeman, who is Tina and where does she fit into anything?
And finally, here we have Jimmy Kimmel with his own version called The Pizza:
It was so funny I almost peed my pants. But not on someone, since that would be too R. Kelly-ish.
Goths Drive Acuras
I had my purse/backpack, my lunchbox, my cell phone, my keys and my tea all positioned in such a way that nothing could drop if I walked straight to the car with my head in the right position and didn’t have to go around anything. I clicked the unlock button on my keychain, used my pinky finger to open the door and then stepped back slightly while the door opened to it’s fullest. So far so good – nothing spilled or dropped. I kept telling myself that if I could just get the tea in the cup holder, the rest would be easy.
And I did it. I got the tea in the cup holder. I set my lunchbox and purse/backpack down on the passenger seat and reached to the backseat to get my olive green, corduroy shirt that I use for a jacket and knocked my tea over onto the driver’s seat. Just kidding. See? That DIDN’T happen. Which means that the morning should have gone fine.
After slipping on my jacket, I said good morning to the punk kid that was getting into his car across the cul-de-sac. He’s 16, maybe 17, has size 1 black plugs in his ears, dyed black hair, wearing all black clothes and accessories with silver spikes and carries around him an air of getting the short end of the stick and of general entitlement. I’m all for the freedom of expression, so it doesn’t bother me in the least the way he dresses. I myself still consider getting my nose pierced every other week.
No, it wasn’t his fashion sense that bothered me, or the way he grunted and rolled his eyes at me as he swung into his car. It was the way that he kept his little silver piece of crap Acura lodged in my tailpipe as we drove the 2 miles to the main road. And as he urged me to push my speed to above 190 in the 45 zone, I showed my great love for his actions by slowing down to 30.
When we got to the main road, I signaled right, (so did he) and inched a little further up, trying to extradite myself from him. And then it happened. He hit me. He hit my back bumper with a very loud thud.
I got out and walked back to see the damage. And this is the part where I appreciate the way that the Chevy people build their vehicles that guzzle fortunes of gas because there was no damage to my car at all. No. In fact, it was his paint all over my bumper and it just flaked off with a small rub of my finger. My bumper had no idea that anything had even happened. My bumper had his arms folded across his chest, his gut sucked in and asked, ‘Wha?? You lookin’ at me?’
I looked at Gothpunk and he was all, ‘I thought you went!’ with his lips painted in black lipstick. ‘You thought I went?’ I asked him. ‘Ya! Totally! I thought you went!’ ‘Well, did you look up and think I went or were you actually looking down at your lap or fiddling with the radio and think I went? Because if it’s the first thing, you really should get some glasses or some anti-hallucinogens. And if it’s the second, stop playing with yourself while you drive.’ He laughed. He laughed! And then said, ‘You’re pretty funny. No, seriously, I totally thought you went!’
About Today
Today feels like the world is crashing down around me. Things are up in the air. Everything is too hard. And I have nothing remotely uplifting or useful to say. I weep at the smallest perceived notion and if you look at me wrong, or not at all, or too hard, or act like you don’t want to look at me because i think you must think I’m dumb, forgettaboutit. But today is the day that I actually need this outlet more than other days when I have everything in control and things are lining up at the snap of my finger.
In response to Helene who wanted to know what I do on days that I’m feeling ‘gross, lazy and stupid,’ I’m not even answering your question in true leahpeah form. I’m just going to do it the only way I can today. Because this is what I do when I feel like that. I do what everyone else does. I wake up in the morning, drag my ass out of bed and go to work. I try really hard all day to do the stuff I’m supposed to do and not think too hard about me and how I feel. Unless the plants need to be watered, and then I let loose. And then, when work is over, I go home and watch some TV or paint and then go to bed. If I feel like it, I’ll feel a little and cry a lot. Or if it’s a weekend, I try not to do anything at all.
And the reason I keep getting up and having a day and repeating it over and over again is because not every day is like this one. Some days are fabulous. Some days I’m smiling even before I open my eyes. And I know that sooner or later, the law of averages says I’m going to have another good day if I just hang in there.
And so I do.
Sexy Tshirts
More at the store. Also on the Stuff page.
Go See the Dahlias
by George Perina
Scrapbook Age 1 and Age 2
For the details, click the photo:
Family Love
Girl, 10 years old or so, with her slightly older brother and wearied father in the airport eatery waiting for their food:
Girl: No! No! stomps her foot three times in a row and whines
Dad: in a whispered hiss Stop it! This is not a game!
Boy: If it was, you’d be losing.
Girl: to her brother Shut up!
Dad: to his daughter Shut up!
Boy: to his sister Shut up!
Dad: to his son Shut up!
20 minutes later….
Girl: Do you think we have enough time to go to Seattle? *silence* Brother! Do you think we have enough time to go to Seattle?
Boy: You sound like an idiot!
Dad: to his son Shut up!
Girl: to her brother Shut up!
Boy: to his sister Shut up!
Dad: to his son Shut up!
Kitchen Counter
Click on the photo to go to Flickr and see the notes.
Jaime and Bonnie
We met Jaime and Bonnie in Long Beach on Sunday. They were out recruiting for the college where Jaime works in Wyoming. Jaime is the girl’s BB coach. Bonnie used to play professionally.
Here are Jaime and I in 1987.
Left-Overs
Here are some photos that were left-over from other stuff.
Muppets Lunchbox
Joe bought me a lunch box at Comicon.
Every morning he packs it full of yummy things to eat for lunch. For me. And I take it to work.
Before he found me the lunchbox, it was a brown paper bag.
He would write my name on it.
Garden Photos
Along the side of the house, in about a 2 foot wide by 20 foot long patch of dirt, I planted a garden with the help of Tony. His pick was the Banana Pepper.
Sadly, a bug found it before it got ripe but it still looks beautiful. Joe wanted us to plant some jalapenos which some bunny really loved. To death.
My tomatoes didn’t turn out too bad.
The corn looks pretty nice.
And the wild strawberries were here before we moved in.
A Moment for Pause
11 year old Tony, from the back seat of the new van, asks his brother who is listing songs currently on the MP3 player: ‘Do you have any good drinking songs?’
