Obituary of a Photographer/Blogger

A little more than two weeks ago (I delayed this post for more than a week, struggling with publishing it), I could not sleep.

I woke up, started to read, but I did not get drowsy. I then turned on the computer. Unlike some people, I rarely use my home computer. At work, I use email, web surf and order things online. When I get home, I don't often even turn on the computer.

I looked at my blog, then someone I read, and I found the image to the side, along with the following: In Memory: Suzanne Horne (Liquid), Aug 13, 1966 - Dec 24, 2008.

Shortly thereafter, I clicked onto Liquid's site, a site from someone who had died on Christmas Eve. There was not a single light on in my study, just the glow from the computer screen, and I started reading the blog. I had read Liquid's blog before – I was an occasional reader of her blog when I read more blogs per week.

Her last post was entitled, "It's That Time Folks!" There was a picture of a fat man, shirtless, ironing a Santa suit. Liquid posted several comments to that post, and one wonders if she knew she was going to kill herself when she made her last post.

Even after she killed herself, some people were giving her well-wishes. There is a mixture of "God speed" and well-wishes, actually, between Christmas day and New Year's Day.

When I was reading Liquid's blog, bathed in the soft glow of the computer screen, I felt close to Suzanne. I felt like she was speaking . . . to me.

If you know Liquid, you know she was a photographer. You can see some of her pictures here. I knew her as an author of her blog, nothing else. So when I read the obituary in the Meridian Star, I got a glimpse of the woman behind the website:

Jeri Suzanne Horne
Jeri Suzanne Horne Services for Jeri Suzanne Horne will be held Tuesday at 2 p.m. at James F. Webb Funeral Home Chapel with the Revs. Joseph Hallman, and Dennis Marks officiating. Burial will be in Pine Springs Southern Methodist Church Cemetery. Mrs. Horne, 42, of Meridian, died Wednesday, December 24, 2008, at her residence. She was employed as a hairdresser. Survivors include her parents, Jerry and Betty White of Meridian, daughter, Isabella Horne of Meridian, son, Campbell Horne of Meridian, brother, Greg White and Ronna of Davie, Fla., niece, Madelyn White of Davie. Visitation will be Monday, 5p.m.-7 p.m. at the funeral home. Pallbearers will be Barry Murphy, Mike Grant, David Medlin, Bo Pierce, Richard Daniel, and Bryan Culpepper.

I paused, not sure I should share the obituary. But a half-a-dozen bloggers have already posted her obituary, so I figured the facts have already been out there. Who knows if this is right . . . .

Anyway, I read somewhere that we die twice. Once when we actually die, and another time when no one left on Earth remembers us. Suzanne died on December 24^th. Her family and friends, who are understandably still hurting from her actions, will remember her for a long time to come. The pain will slowly diminish, and they will remember some of the better times, the times when Suzanne made them smile.

Suzanne, or Liquid (as I knew you), farewell. You will be missed. Those of you who knew Suzanne have the opportunity to sign her guestbook.

Sex While . . .

Warning: your boss may not want you to read this while working.

I woke up the other morning, and the first thing that I thought was: there are 6 billion people in the world, and with all of those people and situations, I would imagine it would be hard to document an experience where at least someone did not do it while having sex.

Some experiences are easy: sex while watching television. Shame on you if you have done it, but I would think that about 5% of blog readers have done this. Oh, I made up a statistic. I bet I will one day be quoted.

Sex while blogging. I would imagine that if you typed "sex while blogging", you would find several blog entries that would have documented this very feat. And then wrote about it.

Sex while working. Been there, done that. Helpful hint: although the copy machine looks sturdy, once there is a bit of rocking going on, those hinges can break really, really easily. Not that I have done that. And, do you just have to be at work, or do you have to be doing something productive? I bet both have been done, more the former than the later.

Then there are some weird experiences. Sex while cleaning the toilet. Probably not as common, but I bet it has been done. Imagine you are getting ready for the mother-in-law coming over. You get ready to take your shower, undress and start the water, and then you notice that the toilet is unsightly. As the water gets warm, you start cleaning the toilet. Unhelpful hubbie comes in and sees you, naked on all fours, hair falling in your face. Two minutes later, you are doing it right next to the toilet. Completely gross, but you can check that experience off the list.

Sex while in the dentist's office. Crap, this is actually one that is highly documented. Dentists are in prison because of this. Ooops.

Sex while in the operating room. Well, I hope no surgeon has done this, but perhaps there were two people who were . . . coupled . . . and could not get uncoupled. So they had to do surgery. More likely, a couple of people in gowns – not sure what their jobs would be – they are masked and not carry scalpels. Problem is, though, it sort of shoots the sterile field to hell.

Maybe I invented a new game. It is quite fun. Play along in the comments if you wish.

At the end, I was thinking of something so specific that there cannot be someone who has had sex while performing the task. For instance, sex while painting the Mona Lisa. There is exactly one person who painted the Mona Lisa (specificity of participants). And the duration cannot be but a month or so (limited duration). But then I began to think: as a woman (Grant, suspend your sense of reality), you are sitting for a painting, spending hours upon hours with the most inventive man in the world. There is no Internet, no Leesa's Stories, no Starbucks. What is a girl to do? So now we know what that smile is all about.

Sort of fitting that this is posted on President's Day! Sex while interning at the White House . . . .

Random Friday #25

Verizon Conversation
I saw this video on YouTube some time ago, and I knew I could write about it. Problem is, I did not want to develop the idea. Guess I should just start a Random Post. Better than developing a post.

Anyway, it is a tape recording of a conversation between two Verizon employees and a customer. And in this case, the customer is right, but neither employee (manager and someone working the phones) can tell the difference between dollars and cents. I think the basic problem is . . . that the employees are idiots. Sorry, it is just that neither employee understand that units of measure are important. Anyone who has ever baked knows units are important - think of adding one tablespoon instead of a teaspoon of salt.

The Watchmen
I just saw a trailer for the movie: The Watchmen. In the trailer, they make the claim, "the most celebrated graphic novel of all time." I have never heard of the graphic novel – just saw some movie posters in movie theaters before reading the above blog entry. I had not a clue what it was about.

I have never read a graphic novel, and I sort of write this with pride. I mean, when I first heard the term, I thought it was an erotic novel. I just did not connect that graphic was in "picture" not expressing the words on the page. I have seen graphic novels in bookstores, but I have not really opened the books. I guess I consider them "comic books" and I am not interested in comics. I am not a 12-year-old boy. Sometimes I think this makes me close-minded. Not giving graphic novels a chance.

Pop Culture: Invading HS Students Lives
I don't do pop culture. I think it is fappid. I found a site that was supposed to teach me about pop culture. Actually, I think it is a guy's top 50 hottest women in all sorts of categories. For instance, in sports, there is a girl by the name of Allison at #3 (her last name is on the site, but she is a GIRL - a high school girl. From the site: "Allison is a pole vaulter for the California high school. She doesn’t have any major sport achievements to date, but she became immensely popular on the Internet after a big website featured her pictures. Well, after I saw the images I became her biggest fan immediately."

She is a high school girl, for gosh sakes. What is wrong with these people?

Reading Comments
I try to read and to respond to comments. And occasionally, very occasionally, I re-read a comment. I have re-read this comment perhaps a dozen times:

Well that's what I mean by text being misconstrued, however I beg to differ re: my extreme creativity, because I certainly cannot transition so beautifully as this: "I believe the ability to create and express yourself in an artistic way is a product of the number of orgasms you can achieve on a given evening."

That my dear, is creative! ;) I love your transitions.

After reading this, I decided to write a few complementary comments of other bloggers. I am not sure my comments had the same effect – probably didn't – but I hope they did. I was on cloud nine.

New Blogs
I was going outside of my comfort zone recently, and I found a New Blog. By new, I don't mean new to me. Well, it is new to me, but it is also a brand new blog. Jasmine is the author, and it is called An Experiment in Poverty. It is always hard to give your heart to a new blog . . . because so many of them don't seem to get off the ground. There are a few good posts, and then nothing. Not sure about this one, though. Perhaps it is the start of a wonderful blog. She posts no pictures of scantily clad Japanese women, she is not a Washington DC insider, and she is not from the refined South (Georgia). But in reading her, I remember what was going on with me right after college. When I was just starting out as an adult.

John Paul Spam?

From: "John Paul"
Sent: Thursday, February 5, 2009 7:05 AM
To: Leesa
Subject: Gift From God

Good day,
I am Mr. John Paul by name, the former Director of operation with a bank in Republic of Benin, but am presently in London for investments programme, I left Benin 2weeks ago after I received a big blessing from God through a fund that was abandoned in our bank by a late customer.

I used my position in our bank there to transfer a big amount of money to a foreign account that belongs to a London Business man who is presently with me here in London. Before I went into the risky transaction with my partner, I first prayed to God and made a strong promise that I shall donate 10% of my total share of the money to the less privileged ones to any society.

Right now, you should contact my Church pastor in Benin. His name is pastor Markson Dums and his email is pastormarksondum@gmail.com. Ask him to send you ATM BANK CARD of one million five hundred thousand Euros (€1.500.000) which I kept with him before I left for London. You should quickly contact him concerning the Bank ATM CARD and be informed that I have forwarded instructions to my pastor on your behalf.

Call me on +447035921427 as soon as you receive the Bank ATM CARD from my pastor. Make sure you utilize the money for the help of the less privileged.

Regards,
John Paul
(KSJ)

My first reaction on seeing "Gift from God" by a sender named John Paul. The previous Pope is in heaven, and he is taking the time to compose an email to me, a member of his flock. Oh my God. Er, you know what I mean.

Then I start reading the note, and I am less pleased. This is not from a Pope who will one day be sainted. Naw, this is from some guy from Benin who is now in London. The second thing I find strange is that there are three letters at the end of the email – sort of like when you were in typing class and included your initials to tell people you typed the letter. Not sure that works with email, but it was amusing.

But then I thought: Is this real? First thing I looked at was the phone number. Hmmmmm. Country code 44 on the phone number. I looked that up in Google, and sure enough, it is an England country code. Then, I looked up where London is (I am American and not so good with the geography), and sure enough, London is in England. Then I looked up Euros, and sure enough, that is some type of currency. Like dollars, but colorful and you can spend the money in foreign lands. Plus, the author of the note used a bunch of surplus letters in composing the letter – you know, spelling "program", "programme." I read somewhere that English stick extra e's and u's in their words.

Anyway, the letter seems legitimate. Trouble is, I am still bummed out about not getting a Papal letter. I mean, I am not sure how far 1.5 million Euros can stretch – if it is anything like Lira, perhaps I can get a bamboo backscratcher and some Italian Ice.

Joe has been getting a lot of notes like this lately. Well, his email has. Apparently Joe and his email are separate entities, with different bank accounts and so forth. I sometimes wonder if he reads my email.

Me, I am going to see if I can get a bamboo backscratcher from Pier 1. I think I have come into some money.

February is Black History Month

One thing I remember hearing as I was growing up: "February is Black History Month". Rochelle Riley of the Detroit Free Press wrote and interesting article about it earlier in the month.

Here is how the article starts out:

I propose that, from this day forward, we stop telling the tale of two Americas and instead document and celebrate the full and storied, multicultural and multidimensional story that is America in all of its colors, geographies and passions, in all of its ups, downs and exhortations.

I propose that, for the first time in American history, this country has reached a point where we are can stop celebrating separately, stop learning separately, stop being American separately. We have reached a point where most Americans want to gain a larger understanding of the people they have not known, customs they have not known, traditions they have not known.

I propose that this month. 142 years after Congress passed the Reconstruction Acts of 1867 that allowed for the Southern states to be re-admitted to the Union, we adopt our own personal reconstruction goals to admit into our lives people who are different, people whose origins differ from ours, people who can teach us so much if we listen.

I propose that this month we become not the America of Rush Limbaugh or the America of Al Franken, but to become an America where all opinions matter and hope trumps hate.

You can go here to finish reading the article. You know, strike that. I encourage you to follow the link to read the article.

I always thought that it was a slap to designate February, the shortest month of the year, to be Black History Month. When I read the above-mentioned article, a question I asked myself was, "Is the author black?" (She is, by the by.) Almost as if one needs to be black (or African American) in order to give legitimacy to racial arguments. Dr. King was thinking of a color-blind society, and this is definitely not a color-blind way of looking at things.

I was listening to the radio a couple of Sundays ago (Sunday morning radio is filled with church-related broadcasts in Georgia), and I heard nearly a complete sermon from a pastor at a local Baptist church. The pastor started out with a prayer for the incoming president.

The sermon discussed how the election of a black president shows the fulfillment of Dr. King's dream. And, you know what, I can't remember Dr. King talking about the goal being a black man in the White House. I thought his dreams dealt with all of us having the same opportunities. And let's face it, most of us will not have the opportunity to be a politician (and politicians definitely are judged, in part, on the way they look).

Now I don't know if we should not have a Black History Month – growing up, it seemed advantageous to learn about Black Americans that have contributed significantly. Granted, there was no Hispanic Heritage Month. And history class was full of White people who contributed. I guess that is the part of the reason for Black History Month. To shed light on the contributions of Black Americans.

I want there to be no need for Black History Month. Not sure we are there, but if electing Obama has brought us closer to racial divides, then I am happy. Confused, but happy.

Comments and Toenails

Okay, I don't read as many blogs as I used to. And for the most part, I don't comment on blogs, either. A few years ago when my blog was more popular, I would pop on blogs a lot more. But I don't often write about when my blog hardly got any readers.

The first day, I figured I would get a few hundred readers, eager to read my words. I got 4 comments the first day. Wow. That sucked.

And then it occurred to me – I could read other people's blogs (I was already reading some; part of the reason I thought I would write my own blog) and them post comments on their blogs. But not just comments like "I totally understand." Or "Nice post." I would post comments funny enough to draw people away from the blog they were reading onto my blog. I would try and be witty.

So basically when I read a blog, I try and be witty or I might say, "Wow, that is a great post." And when I say something is a great post, it is meant for the blog writer, really. No one else. I know it can be hard to write original and interesting material, and it is my way of saying, "That post worked for me; thanks for writing it without thought of compensation."

SSC wrote about how she scared some commenter off in her blog today. And someone said something about my comments yesterday. Who said it? Not important.

I posted a couple of comments that could have been taken a different way – and they were. I was trying to be funny in both cases, and I failed miserably. Some days you are on, and some days, well . . . better to read blogs without commenting or paint your toenails. Yesterday was a toenail-painting day. Where did I place my coral polish?

Connoisseur of . . . Soap?

Today, I was taking a shower, thinking of what I was going to blog about . . . and I was stuck.

I do some of my best thinking in the shower. The thinking is so good that I have told hubbie on more than one occasion – the shower stall is for thinking, not a quickie when Mr. Johnson wakes up all dressed up and no one to play with. Okay, that last sentence was a little vague. Ah, perfect.

Anyway, I was thinking, "How will I delight my blog-reading audience today?" I thought about writing a dirty limerick, but then I would have to research how many syllables each line needs to be, look for the rhyming scheme, then think of cute dirty words, but at least the first line writes itself, "There was an old man from Nantucket." But what rhymes with Nantucket? Too difficult. Not original enough. Scrap that plan.

Then, I looked into my soap dish. I have three bars of soap in my soap dish – two of mine and one of my husband's. Okay, it is a pretty big soap dish, but that is not the remarkable part. The remarkable part is that I have two kinds of soap, not because one is almost gone and I don't want to be in the shower with just hubbie's soap option. I have two bars of soap in the soap dish because I have options on what soap to use, based on my feelings at the time.

If I go under the sink of my bathroom, I probably have twenty or so bars of soap for myself. For myself. And of those twenty bars, I would guess that I have ten different kinds of soap. I have French Milled soap, glycerin soap, organic soap, Scottish soaps, fruit-y soaps, vegetable soaps, soaps made from milk and other artisan soaps.

Before I was married, my husband would use Irish Spring. I told him that if we were to marry, he would have to abandon Irish Spring (and soap-on-a-rope, a bastardization of soaps, really). He, of course, asked, "If I give up soap, is that one thing you won't do in the bedroom going to be on the table?" Of course not, was my response.

So I buy nice soaps for him as well. He really don't care one way or the other (I do other things in the bedroom that keeps Irish Spring out of our home), but I like the smell of good soap on him.

Some people learn about wine and enjoy it by the glass; I am always in search of a good soap. Call it my dirty little secret.

Vague Random Friday #25

I have not done a Random Friday for a while. I feel a bit of scatterbrained, actually. Because I cannot really hold a thought, I figure I would just write on a mode of blogging that does not rely on having a thought held together through two consecutive paragraphs. Oh, crap, I can't hold a thought together for one paragraph.

Brains and Drugs
Not holding a thought. There are some that think this temporary condition is sad, perhaps a disadvantage. Personally, I think my sometimes scatterbrained moments keep me from trying mind-altering drugs.

More on Drugs
Unless you have been living under a rock, you know Michael Phelps has appeared in a picture with drug paraphernalia. I have several thoughts: how come when he did something in South Carolina, the first news comes from England? Guess they were high bidder.

Still More on Drugs
I was driving in the car the other day, listening to a talk type radio program. One of the callers was saying that Michael Phelps is proof that you can be a recreational drug user and still be a productive member of society. "I mean, look at Phelps. He won 8 gold medals and we now know that the drugs didn't hold him back."

Two things: (1) he has won more than 8 gold medals (14 or so, I think – and if I am wrong, I am not stoned; I am scatterbrained). (2) he had like a bazillion drug tests during training and competition and no drugs (performance enhancement or illegal) was found in his system. As far as I know, there is no cause and effect that shows that marijuana use leads to fast swimming. If fact, I think it makes sperm swim a bit slower. Or is that urban myth?

Google Search Features
The other day, I was googling something, and Google suggested that I might find this "tool" helpful: Search Features Way cool, but I doubt I will remember this in days.

AccuWeather Picture
A picture is worth a thousand words. I was looking at the weather the other day – and it suggested a picture. The picture to the side. At first, I thought it was some sort of alien/UFO-type mocked up picture. But then I read about it: "As the anniversary of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attack approaches, a test of the Tribute in Light Memorial illuminates a passing cloud above lower Manhattan. The twin towers of light, made-up of 44 searchlights near Ground Zero, are meant to represent the fallen twin towers of the World Trade Center. Depending on weather conditions, the columns of light can be seen for at least 20 miles around the trade center complex. U.S. Coast Guard photo by Public Affairs 2nd Class Mike Hvozda"

Sexy Dumb
When I was in high school, occasionally I played like I did not know the answers to questions because I wanted guys to like me. In a weird, twisted sort of way, I thought dumb was sexy. I learned way later that guys did not think dumb was necessarily sexy – they just figured it would be easier to sleep with a girl that was a bit slow. Not all guys mind you, but some I know. But in high school, it did not often occur to me that sleeping with girls was a common thought among hormone-rich guys.

Death
I am currently writing two blog entries about . . . death. This disturbs me on so many levels. One I thought about months ago, but never finished it. One I started yesterday – was going to post it today but did not have the energy, brainpower or lucidity to finish it.

Friday makes a better hump day than Wednesday. Have a wonderful Friday. Me, I am going to get paid for inferior intellectual efforts today. All is good.

Operation Skinny Bitch and Blogging

I will admit it; I don't surf blogs like I once did. Part of the reason is that I am so damn busy; part of the reason is that those who I put energy in following have called it quits. The no longer spend countless unpaid hours writing for my amusement. And they should, damn it.

A blog I rarely read but should (meaning I have not had a personal connection with the blog at all but it is well-written and interesting) is in the same funk as I am. Several people who were writing for her amusement have also quit. Why is that unwritten rule (okay I will write the rune down: "that you should to amuse us whatever personal sacrifice you have to make" being violated? I have not a clue.

But anyhow, from her site, I found Operation Skinny Bitch. Okay, most of my blogging buddies are guys. I know. You don't think about losing weight so you can wiggle into that shape-flattering one-piece. You think about breasts, football and spitting sunflower seeds on the sidewalk. And I write about breasts, football and cum shots. Nearly matches what you are thinking about – that's why you read my stuff. Well, that, and I know how to scan google images and place non-copywrited hotties on my blog as well. I get all that. But today, we are going to talk about getting ready for bikinis.

The difference between guys and gals is simple – and we are not talking about chromosomes or sex organs. In February, guys are thinking, "When does the swimsuit SI come again?" Gals see the damn issue in the check-out line, look at the date and think, "four more months to swimsuit weather." Okay six months for you northerners. In Georgia, we can don our swimsuits around spring break.

And that's where Operation Skinny Bitch comes in. This site is where you can share your loss without reprise of those judging people of Weight Watchers. I mean, we all hate skinny bitches, but at the same time we want to be the skinny bitch. In college, if I gained a few pounds, all I had to do was skip a meal or weight until that time of the month was over. Now, those last five pounds (which are really, to be honest, those last 12.5 pounds) are hard as hell to get rid of.

So this year I am trying to (1) lose pounds, and (2) gain blogging buddies. In particular, I would like to lose pounds off of my ass and pooch and gain blogging buddies that are entertaining and won't give up because no one else reads them. Let's focus on me, people.

On Being Fi

Every once in a while, I see a movie or a show, and I wonder what it would be like to be that person. Not sure if it is me wanting to be someone more glamorous, or me just over-analyzing an otherwise uncaptivating movie/television program, but there you have it.

There is a USA Network show (and since I don't have cable, I have to watch it online). I actually saw it first at a hotel – last year, I think. I can't remember now. Not that I spend a lot of time in hotels.

The show is Burn Notice, and the character I desperately would love to be is Fiona Glenanne, the ex-girlfriend of the main character, Michael Weston. Fiona is played by Gabrielle Anwar, who is best-known for her tango with Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman (got to love IMDb). I am unsure I have seen Ms. Anwar in anything other than Scent of a Woman, and Mr. Pacino stole the show in that movie.

Fiona, or Fi as she is often called on the show, is a bomb expert, sniper, kick-your-ass-while-wearing-high-heels kind of girl. She is smart, sexy and has killer fashion sense. She has a sense of humor and she seems to be very sure of herself. All the time.

One thing I have learned over the years is that most women – deep down inside – don't feel confident about themselves. We work and expect our own work to be perfect, and we make 85 cents on the dollar of what men make for the same work. I think part of this is because we know we can do better, and that is reflected in us not asking our bosses for the salary we deserve.

Then someone writes a script that includes Fi. The men, well, they want to ogle her. And the women want to be her. I mean, Michael is a dream man – strong, sensitive, smart, who looks good and treats Fi well. Okay, he is an ass to her on occasions, breaking her heart on occasion and not telling her how he feels, but we like a guy who is a bit broken. Deep down, I think we like imperfections that we can help fix.

Burn Notice is probably mostly a guy show. There are lots of explosions, gun play and camera pans of the Miami beach front (code for "girls in bikinis in the background of the scenes). But it appeals to me as well. I want to be the put-together Fi who can kick a little bad-guy ass and look good doing it.

Anyway, part of me is thinking, I can be Fi, I really can. All I have to do is stop eating (she is too damn skinny), work out my upper body at the gym (I am concentrating on my lower body right now), learn a lot about safe-cracking (I will sign up for a class at the local community college – they have a class for everything there), take a chemistry class or two from the Unibomber, and turn my 401-K into Fi's eclectic wardrobe. When Summer rolls around, not only will I be "bikini ready", but I will be able to hotwire a car, intimidate a gang-banger and make an IED from items found under my kitchen sink.

Wanna' Watch Some Football?

This Sunday is Super Bowl Sunday. Growing up, I remember that this big event came in January. But because of bye weeks or commercial deals or whatever, now the Super Bowl is in February, almost snuggling up next to Valentine's Day. Definitely something guy-inspired.

Because of the Super Bowl, I feel compelled to write about football.

When I was in high school, I remember going to pep rallies and games. But my most memorable football memory was of someone in class (not a friend, but an acquaintance) named Derek.

Derek was a sophomore in my English class. He was a tight end, and during the season (he played JV – junior varsity at the time), he broke his middle finger while catching a football in a game. I did not see the game, but his injury was the talk of the classroom on Friday. Okay, I did not really follow JV at the time – I would have thought the game was on a Friday night, but it was Thursday night when he broke his finger.

He had the finger in some sort of cast/splint, and it looked like he was giving the finger to the world. His middle finger had been broken. Broken bones are serious and all but this was funny on several accounts:

1. It was his middle finger. Feel free to do a high school giggle here.
2. He was a tight end. What a name of a position for a football player. Another giggle goes here.
3. Apparently, he was not given many opportunities to catch a ball, so breaking a finger during a rather rare catch opportunity was funny to some. I did not get it at the time, still don't, but that's okay. Did I mention it was the middle finger?
4. The guy was shy and unassuming, and this gave him a bit of notoriety. That made me laugh.

Having a broken middle finger is a bit funny, but you know, apparently receivers can't play very well with broken bones in their hands. The injury took a while to heal, so they moved him to defense, where his end was not longer described as tight. He now was something called a safety. Where receivers need soft hands to catch the ball, safeties need to anticipate where receivers are going and knock the hell out of them when the ball reaches them. Having been a receiver, this gave him a bit of an advantage.

Well, after his finger healed, he continued to play on defense, and not only did he play on the varsity squad for two years and receive a letter in football, but he also got a scholarship to a good school, received all-conference honors and even went to a professional training camp as an undrafted player.

After college, he became a salesman and eventually bought a franchise and is doing really well for himself. Most credit his post college success to his football career (apparently leadership skills are taught, not just how to hit the crap out of your opponent).

So breaking his middle finger sort of made him go in a slightly different direction. He may have been a so-so tight end (okay, he may have had a nice butt; I can't really remember), but he was a really good defensive player.

While I am watching the commercials at the Super Bowl, I will be thinking about how certain insignificant events perhaps have changed lives. Coca-Cola is probably going to piss me of with their "Mean Troy" Polamalu add. Guess he has not broken the middle finger.

Shutting Down Gitmo

I saw that President Obama did a couple of things regarding the War on Terrorism last week, the most publicized being to shut down Gitmo. Oh, and I think it is cool that you can see all Executive Orders here.

Now, I sort of find it interesting that I really think they ought to shut down Gitmo. I have no basis for making that judgment. I have never worked for the military, in the military, have never read any military books, and I don't even really like military movies. So I am as qualified to be Commander-in-Chief as Clinton.

I guess fear is at the heart of my desire. I know that there are places that our government can put anyone and they may never be heard from again – no trial, no public information. Just a scary place off of US soil. I guess just because it is not US soil, to me, doesn't mean that we should follow different rules.

So like several of my more left-wing friends, I applaud the President for the Executive Order. It seems to be a little more substantive than including salsa as a vegetable for student lunches (Clinton did this; Reagan, as I recall, listed catsup in the same grouping – it has something to do with Federal funding of school lunch programs). I don't know. With the salsa Executive Order, at least I could understand part of it and "I could sink my teeth into that issue." Oh, maybe not. Guess I will try and find some hottie to grace this post. That way, the guys can get something useful out of this blog entry.

Madonna: In the News

When I was in high school, I can remember seeing a Playboy with Madonna in it. Apparently, Madonna posed for Playboy before her singing career took off. At least, that's what I remembered at the time.

I was in my car coming home the other day, and between all of the pre- inauguration stuff, there was a few minutes spend on story about a photo session between Madonna and Lee Friedlander. Apparently, a nude photograph of Madonna taken during the 1979 modeling session is set to be auctioned on February 12 at Christie's auctioneers in New York. The photo appeared in Playboy magazine, with Fox News reporting that the singer may have been paid as little as $25 for the session.

Anyway, as the radio talked about auctioning off the photo, I thought about the first time I saw Madonna's nudes in Playboy. Now, I don't remember much about the photos. The first thing I recall is that Madonna had . . . unappealing feet. I googled to find an image of the feet, and could not. There were a couple of photos that had her feet clipped from the photo – not sure if that was purposeful or not. And the other thing is that she did not shave her armpits.

I saw the picture with a bunch of girlfriends after school. Her father subscribed to Playboy for the articles, I am sure. We were more interested in seeing Madonna without her clothes on. I think it was about the time that she was in a movie, Desperately Seeking Susan. She had several hit albums/singles by then, and she had 12-year-olds dressing like hookers. Madonna was bigger than life.

Anyway, we went over to my friend's house, we made sure her brother was out of the house, we went into her father's room, and locked the door. We then went into the bathroom, where the Playboy was, under a box of tissue paper, as I recall. We huddled around the toilet, looking at Madonna, and my first thought was, "She is not all that sexy or glamorous in these pictures." I think that was probably thought by others, because we eventually looked at the centerfold. Well, at the time, I thought the centerfold was so much more exotic than Madonna, but I could not remember – really remember – what the centerfold looked like. A friend suggested a site to find her (definitely not workplace safe). Anyway, I looked at the playmate, and she was not nearly as exotic as I had remembered.



Anyway, for whatever it is worth, I have always admired Madonna. She was nearly 50 when the video below was taken, and she looks great. For me, I look to Madonna and see a former Catholic girl who has learned how to display her sexuality and is so business savvy. Still, she has ugly feet (IMHO). But a fellow blogger disagrees. Of course, there are all sorts of fetishes out there.

Leesa's Mailbag: Issue 6

Dear Leesa,

I got this email from a friend. Is it real?

Always check your child's homework. The child drew this picture, and the mother responded with a note which was sent to school the next school day with 1st grader.

Dear Mrs. Jones,

I wish to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, an exotic dancer. I work at Home Depot and I told my daughter how hectic it was last week before the blizzard hit. I told her we sold out every single shovel we had, and then I found one more in the back room, and that several people were fighting over who would get it.Her picture doesn't show me dancing around a pole. It's supposed to depict me selling the last snow shovel we had at Home Depot. From now on I will remember to check her homework more thoroughly before she turns it in.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Smith

Sign Me,
Wanna Be Stripper in Hannibal

Leesa's Answer: Ha ha ha. I doubt it is real.


Dear Leesa,

What is the HTML code in order to get the Quick Links on the blog? I believe I have been emailing you, but no one has responded. Can you please help me? Thanks!!!

Leon

Leesa's Answer: Okay, this is going to be technical and boring, so most of you will want to end reading this post now unless you want to tweak your blog and are geek-ish. You can thank me for sending you to a different blog now: The Grantichrist

These directions are for the current version of blogger, not the classic version. Sorry, ~Deb. First, you will need to open up your blog in the Layout configuration. There are several tabs under Layout, and you will want Page Elements (this will probably be the defaulted view). Under Page Elements, you will see the page layout you currently have, and choose Add a Gadget. All of the different page elements are called gadgets.

This is where things get geeky. You will add the following type of page element: HTML/Javascript. You will give it a title, whatever your heart desires. You can even call it, "Leesa's White Cotton Panties" if you like, though I don't recommend this title.

Then you will add the content.

<script> <!-- function land(ref, target) { lowtarget=target.toLowerCase(); if (lowtarget=="_self") {window.location=loc;} else {if (lowtarget=="_top") {top.location=loc;} else {if (lowtarget=="_blank") {window.open(loc);} else {if (lowtarget=="_parent") {parent.location=loc;} else {parent.frames[target].location=loc;}; }}} } function jump(menu) { ref=menu.choice.options[menu.choice.selectedIndex].value; splitc=ref.lastIndexOf("*"); target=""; if (splitc!=-1) {loc=ref.substring(0,splitc); target=ref.substring(splitc+1,1000);} else {loc=ref; target="_self";}; if (ref != "") {land(loc,target);} } //--> </script> <b>Title of Dropdown Menu</b> <form action="dummy" method="post"><select style="color:#006699" name="choice" size="1"> <option value=""/>Choose a Link <option value="http://yourlink.html"/>Title of Link <option value="http://yourlink2.html"/>Title of Second Link</select> <input value="GO!" onclick="jump(this.form)" type="button"/></form>

I use the color #006699 in my code. That is the bluish color that you see as the color of the fonts in my drop-down menu. You can pick any of a bazillion colors. Here is one site that will give you some hexadecimal colors. You know how Sherwin Williams has a color pallet? HTML does as well, and there are all sorts of ways to choose colors.

And with the code, place your own links and titles into the "option" tags. You can create as many as your heart's desire. And you can copy the part from "Title of Dropdown Menu" to the Option Tags in order to have several different drop downs.

Very tech-y, I know. But every once in a while, I get asked this question. Now I can point people to the response.

Write Me
Please contribute to the questions asked on "Leesa's Mailbag." Over the last few years, people have emailed me with questions, and I have answered them on an individual basis. Now, I think I will answer them on a blog entry. I will do it on Fridays when I have enough questions to cobble together a post. Sort of an Ann Landers with attitude. Just write to the following email address:

Also, let me know if you want to be acknowledged or anonymous. Makes no difference to me. For those who use the comments section to ask a question, I will assume those are public posts.

National Hugging Day

Today is National Hugging Day. When Grant stopped blogging for a while, I would occasionally get notes from him, letting me know about strange holidays. Certainly not National Hugging Day. More likely, Take a Nunchuck to Work Day. Okay, I made that up. Perhaps I will register takeanunchucktoworkday.com. Perhaps not.

On the National Hugging Day website, the Most Huggable People in 2009 are:

President Barack Obama and Family, Washington, DC The Obama family has been seen hugging one another freely and openly throughout the campaign making the most huggable "First Family."

Robby Jackson, Flagstaff, AZ At 8 years old, he decided it was important to adopt a "Robby's National Hug Day" at his school. All of his classroom peers and teachers received a hug celebrating "Robby's National Hug Day." It went so well that the kids hugged the next day. He hugged his family and friends. He did this all on his own! His family researched National Hug Day on the computer and realized that we already do have a "National Hug Day. His mother added, "Great news for us!"

Edna Hazlett, Fredericktown, PA According to a fellow church member, Edna always jumps up from her pew and throws out her arms with a big smile on her face. "All your troubles seem to float away with her arms around you."

Andrea Mumford, Baton Rouge, LA According to her coworkers, "she is always smiling and laughing, [and] she can't keep her arms off of people because she loves to hug everyone!"

When I think of hugging, I can't help but remember something a co-worker once told me. She recalled an event where she and her husband were caught in the act by her daughter. Days later, the woman was in the kitchen, and her daughter was playing with friends. Said daughter told her friends "Daddy was hugging Mommy with his penis yesterday." The co-worker was mortified.

On the bright side, I suppose, at least the daughter did not say that the Daddy was hugging the babysitter.

Anyway, now every time I hear something about hugging, I think about my co-worker and her husband, caught by their daughter.

I never caught my parents – thank goodness – but most people who have talked about their parents and sex seem to have caught them at least once. Now I am not sure if it is because the people who talk have caught their parents, but I always pipe up and say that I suspect my parents never had sex. Or, perhaps, my parents were much more discrete than other parents (thanks Mom and Dad!). Being a Southerner, discretion is so important.

February 8 is Grammy night. I think that night should be I Kissed a Girl Night in honor of Katy Perry. Me, I will be wearing cherry ChapStick.

Scatterbrained

Sorry, but I have been a little scatterbrained lately. I just cannot concentrate on one thing for too many seconds.

The United States of Tara
Dr. Deb wrote a post last week about "The United States of Tara". The main character is Tara, a woman with Dissociative Identity Disorder (what I learned as Multiple Personality Disorder). Now, I admit it, I don't completely understand Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID).

I will admit that I have not experienced DID myself – no one I know has suffered from the mental illness. The first episode seemed a little sweet for such a serious mental illness.

Bank of America
Looks like Bank of America just asked for $20 Billion in handouts. Guess they need some cash to give bonuses to their employees in the first quarter of the year. But seriously, it looks like the $800 Billion Congress allocated last year (with no strings attached, might I add) may end up being wasted money. I was listening to NPR last week, and someone on there suggested most of that money went to the Caiman Islands.

Caiman Islands
I wonder how the Caiman Islands got their name. I think there is some alligator-crocodile-type animal called a caiman. I know, if I wanted tourism for a deluxe island, I am not sure I would name it after something that could bite your foot off.

Phonics
Every time I hear the "Hooked on Phonics" ad on the radio, I wonder why they spell their name phonics, not fonics. It is not like the company has to use the normal spelling for their product. I just don't understand.

Blog Suggestion
I was thinking of doing a blog on George W Bush. He was in office for eight years, and I suspect there will be some who want to remember his presidency. Problem with me is that I tune out everything I hear concerning Mr. Bush.

News?
I normally don't listen to the news, but on Thursday evening, someone asked me something about the plane that went down in New York City. Holy cow, I had not heard of that.

Holy Cow
I have a t-shirt with a cow (complete with halo), and the title "Holy Cow."

Day Off
Well, I have the day off today, so I will be just going back to sleep. Have a great day!

Ninja Chick

Okay, some of you have been reading me for years, and through reading my drivel for years, you may think you have come to know me. And you have seen a side of me, to be sure. But if you pass me in the produce isle of your local supermarket, I doubt you would recognize me. If we chatted in the waiting room of the local clinic, you would not say, "She reminds me of Leesa."

I started this blog to work on my writing, but I also needed an outlet to write the crazy ass stuff that I have in my brain. And those who know me at work, don't get to see that stuff. In fact, my husband sees it infrequently as well. Maybe that is his loss; I don't know.

I don't envy people with multiple personalities (or now, dissociative identity disorder), but occasionally it would be really cool to take on another personality. Occasionally, I would want to be someone else. For instance, I would want to be ninja chick.

Now, I am not talking old school ninja. A few months ago, I was staying overnight in a hotel, and there was a show on cable. Discovery, History Channel type of show. It talked about the early ninjas. I think they were monks or something. And I am not angling at being a clergy person with a bad 'tude.

I want to be a ninja who doesn't take anything from anyone. Postman is too slow at the post office, and I bust some cool ninja move. Yeah, speed things up, and don't ask me if I want any stamps!

At the 15-items-or-less check-out line, putting a little fear in the middle-aged man who thinks his 25 items and his time is a bit more valuable than the woman behind him with two screaming children and the carton of milk and sugar cereal.

At the movie theater, I would do a little karate chop to the neck of the 6' 2" guy with the cowboy hat that he won't take off. Hi-yah! Take that from the ninja chick.

Pardon me, I have had a bit more caffeine than I normally do on a Friday. We ninja chicks sometimes roll that way.

Best Job in the World

I got this in my inbox today. The Telegraph article, in part, says this about the dream job:

Interest in the "dream job", which involves little more than relaxing on Hamilton Island while £69,000 ticks into your bank account, is so high that a website built specifically to advertise the position to global jobseekers crashed overnight.

More than 210 applications have been received for the job so far, and islandreefjob.com, run by Tourism Queensland, had more than 160,000 visitors in its first 24 hours. British visitors made up 34 per cent of the traffic.

A spokeswoman for Tourism Queensland said the site was back up and running now, although it was expected to "go a bit crazy" when the American audience wakes up to the offer of being paid to live in paradise.

The job will be advertised for another six weeks, and all applications will be considered on their merits, not how quickly they were submitted, she said.

Well, I tried logging onto the site yesterday, just to take a look around, and I could not see anything. Guess their servers were having a problem. Imagine living in paradise for 6 months and just blogging and vlogging about it for a few hours per day.

I don't know if it will help tourism, but the 100K salary just gave them more than $100K worth of worldwide advertising. Just my opinion.

Before you ask, I will not apply. I already have a dream job where I have few responsibilities, get a steady paycheck, and it looks like my job is fairly secure. Which is sad, considering what I do for the company. I mean, part of the reason I don't take long vacations is because if I did, they would figure out they really don't need me. Of course, that applies to about half of the employees, I suppose.

I am more interested in who they get for this spokesperson.

Here is my guess: the spokesperson will be female, in her late 20s, and look really good in a bikini. She will have completed college, have worked in the newsroom of a small television station, and have a heck of a sense of humor. She will also write really well, and have traveled a bit. She will be either Australian or British, and she probably will have competed in sports in high school.

That's my prediction. Now I will go off to my dream job and surf the web. And I can't believe that the high in a few days will be in the 20s. I am in the deep south, for gosh sake.

Coins

Yesterday, I stopped by a quickie mart, and purchased a Diet Dr. Pepper with some coins in my purse. I used a one dollar coin like the one in the picture to the left, two quarters and a few smaller coins. Exact change.

The woman at the quickie mart took a look at the dollar coin and said, "I am not sure we can take this coin." A co-worker looked at the coin and said that she could. If that co-worker was not there, I am fairly sure I would not have had my Diet Dr. Pepper.

I normally don't like receiving fifty cent pieces or dollar coins in my change, and I ditch them as quickly as possible. And now it seems that some people don't think dollar coins would be legal tender in the United States.

I know, you are saying to yourself, "Leesa, why do you care? This person is only an employee in the local quickie mart." And if you were thinking that, shame on you. You know, employees of the quickie mart have lots and lots of power. They can say, "We don't accept dollar coins." They can also say, "We will no longer be ordering" [Leesa shudders] "Diet Dr. Pepper."

Little things. Not accepting coins, soft summer rain, a warm down comforter and a good book. Little things make life such more enjoyable.
dollar coin.

Loosing Bloggers

I have been blogging for a few years now, and blogging has changed a bit. Blogging was fresh and new at one point. I think I started blogging right after it started. And I have seen a lot of bloggers come and go.

Latest one has been the Peanut Queen.

I remember Georgia Peach – she blew up her blog a few times. She had a kind heart, and really seemed to want to help girl bloggers – the ones that are confused and used. I loved that gal.

Then there was Ddot. He was a self-proclaimed king. I really liked Ddot as well. He eventually quit when his real life was too busy. He was writing professionally on the side, the last time I heard. He was interviewing some really big rap stars. Had I known more about rap, I would have been extremely impressed. Okay, I was impressed nonetheless. I googled the last interview I read, and he was very popular and was never indicted for any capital crimes. Sort of a win-win if you ask me.

Then there is Mal. She is on-again, off-again. She reminds me of some chemical engineer chick who can write. She wrote two posts in December, so I guess that makes her on-again.

There is Muse, who has vacillated between blogging and not blogging for a while. She blogs occasionally still. She as such a wonderful writing style. Absolutely riveting.

There is Lisa, the bored housewife. She still writes, again occasionally.

I sometimes wonder why I write. I know I can't write every day; I am just too busy for that. And sometimes when I look at my entries, I wonder why people read. This used to be an outlet for me. It can be again, I suppose.

Oh, and the image I am using used to be on PQ's blog. Internet Archives can be a beautiful thing.

---

Looks like Florida are the national champs in NCAA Football. From what I saw of the game, perhaps it should have been Utah.

The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini

I tripped on this movie the other day, and it is so funny. It has the likes of Basil Rathbone, Benny Rubin, Nancy Sinatra (Frank and Nancy Sinatra's first child), and The Bobby Fuller Four.

Big Hollywood

On the radio, I heard about a new website: Big Hollywood. Andrew Breitbart is the man behind the site, who helped establish the Drudge Report and the Huffington Post. In other words, this is a conservative man's man crush. Breitbart wrote about it here.

I have not read about it, I have no knowledge about the website or the background, and I should not write about it. But I am going to anyway.

I have pictured an interview with Breitbart and a reporter; let's call this reporter Leesa (I am a narcissist at heart).

Leesa: Thank you for agreeing to talk with me. I am doing a short story for my blog.

Breitbart: I hope it is a conservative blog.

Leesa: Very conservative. I read from the press release that you are starting a website that talks about the film industry. So, how many upskirts of Britney Spears do you have so far?

Breitbart: Er, we don't do that. We are not some porn site.

Leesa: You can see those shots on Perez Hilton, Access Hollywood. Heck, even on the three networks, if it is a news event.

Breitbart: Did you actually read my recent article. This is a conservative take on Hollywood.

Leesa: So no gossip? No pics of actresses in hideous runway garments? No police blotters.

Breitbart: That is correct. I am going to target the conservatives who want Hollywood news.

Leesa: And you don't think they want to know who impregnated the Spears sister?

Breitbart: Of course not. Conservatives want good, wholesome movies.

Leesa: Like Momma Mia?

Breitbart: Momma Mia shows how a promiscuous woman fathers a child without a father. She is rewarded and ends happily ever after. Certainly if it was a conservative-minded movie, she would be held accountable for her actions. Perhaps her mother would fall off the island and get eaten by sharks.

Leesa: Which Abba song should they use when Meryl Streep gets horribly eaten?

Breitbart: That's not the point of my website. We want to appeal to conservatives, not re-write poorly written musicals.

Leesa: And you expect people to read what you are writing?

Breitbart: Certainly. Conservatives are picky about what they view for entertainment purposes.

Leesa: And this type of insight will be seen on your site? Er. I think I have a dental appointment.

Breitbart: Good oral hygiene is also consistent with the conservative viewpoint. Perhaps we can partner on a story on flossing in Hollywood. Have a compilation of flossing scenes that hit the big screen.

Leesa: I give your website three months. Good luck.

New Year's Resolution

Each year, I make a New Year's resolution. And each year, I follow through with the resolution for a few weeks. Perhaps a month.

And then I rationalize the resolution away.

This year, I am going to be a doubter. I have accepted so much over the years, that this year I am going to doubt almost everything.

The menu states that the entrée is Vegan, I am going to do some chemical assays, looking for meat proteins. If I read about a train wreck in the next town, I am going to call the news desk to confirm. If Anonymous says I am a dirty bird, I will sniff to ensure I don't have body odor. I will be a super-duper doubter.

When I read about an economic recovery, I am going to act like Missouri and say, "Show Me."

When a doctor places me on another medication, I am going to ask for the literature, showing double blind studies.

But then I wonder. I just wonder. If I ask my husband, "Do I look fat in this?" Do I really want to doubt him? When I see something that could be awe-inspiring, do I want to think of rational explanations which are less inspiring?

I will give it a month.

They Cancelled Eli Stone? Crap!

Last month, ABC announced the cancellation of three shows. Okay, I only really knew one of the shows – Eli Stone – but that was one of my favorite shows on television. ABC is not the most popular television station (I think that is CBS), so I don't get why they would cancel their shows. Oh, and point of fact, they did not cancel as they really did not re-order shows. It turns out to be the same thing, though.

ABC has canceled a bunch of shows. Let's see: Pushing Daisies, Dirty Sexy Money, Eli Stone, Lipstick Jungle, Crusoe and My Own Worst Enemy. The only one I really care about is Eli Stone. But still, it appears that other than CBS, most networks are cancelling everything. Maybe it is because I don't watch much television, but it seems weird to have this many shows

I mean, it is not like it is an episode of Room Raiders.

Now there is this other show I have found – Chuck. Chuck is about a computer brained geeky guy who sort of because of bad/dumb luck, becomes a quasi-spy. My taste always kills good television. Zachary Levi and Yvonne Strahovski – sorry, but I think you need to start updating your resumes.

Just a short rant. Thanks for listening.

Leesa's Mailbag: Issue 5

Dear Leesa,

I was wondering what you would suggest for someone looking to purchase an interesting gift this year that does not involve batteries?

Leesa's Answer: Perhaps you could order a photography book. Perhaps a book that focuses on Polaroid photography. With the economy and everyone thinking about how tight things are, perhaps a book that is shows the wonderful world of Polaroids. Maybe it will remind us of how things were in the late 1970s, the last time I remember when things seemed bleak.

Dear Leesa,

Why are you such a whore? Why do you write such slutty things?

Sign Me,
Puritan in Peoria

Leesa's Answer: At first, I was going to defend my writing, but that's not really objective. Then I remember reading a post by A Little Off Kilter that talked of a ratings site where you can see what your blog would rate. Sort of like the motion picture industry. Actually, I think the people (a dating site) who created it might have some copyright infringement, but I don't really want to go there. I ran my site through, and I got a rating of R. And the blog who recommended it got a worse rating (NC-17) than me. I mean, I write about oddly shaped cum stains. And I have a stalker who basically says I am some sort of sperm fiend.

I don't know why I write such slutty things. But according to the site, they are not as slutty as they could be.

Dear Leesa,

What was the most interesting thing you thought today?

Sincerely,
A Friend

Leesa's Answer: Well, today is not over, and I hope I think of more interesting things, but it occured to me that it is a pity that no one really famous died on the day I was born. I was looking at a quiz here that tells you who died on your birthday. I mean, Austrian writers and Ugandian bicyclists are mentioned, so I think the list is fairly complete. No deaths of importance on my birthday. Pity. I guess.

---

Follow My Blog
Google/Blogger has a relatively new widget for following other bloggers. They wrote about it in August, actually, but I am sure many of us don't read "The Official Blogger Buzz." Whether you think of the follower widget as a way to stalk people, show your support to other bloggers or just a way to be part of a croud, please add me as one of the blogs you follow. It might not make you feel better, but it will make me feel better.

Write Me
Please contribute to the questions asked on "Leesa's Mailbag." Over the last few years, people have emailed me with questions, and I have answered them on an individual basis. Now, I think I will answer them on a blog entry. I will do it on Fridays when I have enough questions to cobble together a post. Sort of an Ann Landers with attitude. Just write to the following email address:

Also, let me know if you want to be acknowledged or anonymous. Makes no difference to me. For those who use the comments section to ask a question, I will assume those are public posts.

Amy's Secret

The blue of the television set bathed the hotel room walls.

If anyone were to peer inside to see what was on the screen, one would see three well-hung men slowly stroking their cocks. The men were standing around, apparently in some porn plot where they were racing to see who could cum first. The men were laughing, stroking, and then if you gazed at the bed, you would have seen a young production manager fingering herself, amazed at the beefy men in the video.

Twenty minutes later, after each of the men messily and she came gloriously, she finished getting ready for her date. She picked up her cell phone on the way out the door, but it started ringing right before she began to dial. It was her boss.

"Hi, Love," she answered the phone, "How are you this evening?"

"No, she answers, "I am on my way out actually."

She debates whether to stay in her hotel room or go down the hall to the elevator. She knew the conversation might get a tad spicy. She is late for her date, and decides to go out. Busy girl, I know, but this is Amy's life.

The hall is empty, but if people were in the hall, they would hear Amy talking about servicing her boss in his office.

"Oh, yes, I would sit down on your desk, parting my legs, showing you my forbidden pussy. I would ask you if my pussy is the prettiest pussy you have seen."

Amy entered the elevator and continued talking, "Tell me again, I have a prettier pussy than your wife."

Amy looked up and notice she was sharing the elevator with someone else.

She cupped the cell phone with her right hand and said, "Sorry."

The man chucked and said, "Guess I am missing out. If you like, I could tell you how it compares to those I have seen."

Amy whispered that she needed to go, laughed after hanging up and turned beet red.

"Sorry, just a game I am playing with a friend."

They both exit the elevator on the first floor, and Amy heads to the entrance of the hotel to catch a taxi. She was going to get a drink at the bar before leaving, but she did not want to be followed by the elevator friend. She did not have time for him, and she figured she would just be fighting off his advances. He was handsome, but not her type.

The next couple of hours were filled with forgettable experiences. She had met her lover and had dinner together. Through dinner and drinks, she was remembering the porno, thinking about the men, picturing their semen. She was also remembering her boss, the sex chat on the phone, and also remembering his male member. She would not allow him to enter her pussy, but that did not stop her from giving him blowjobs at work. She laughed when she remembered one of her father's suggestions: "Get paid for what you love." Well, she loved everything to do with blowjobs. Good advice, Dad.

Amy slowly came back into the present, started noticing her lover, wondering where they would next have sex. She wanted sex immediately, but because of her partner's OCD, she knew that she could never get her lover to agree to a bathroom fuck.

Between bites of manicotti, Amy gazed into her lover's dark brown eyes, and said, "You are the only woman for me."

What she did not say that evening was that there was room in her life, in her pants and in her bed for many, many cocks. But as long as the cocks did not invade her womanhood, she considered herself 100% lesbian. Oh, and 100% faithful.

Christmas Perspective

Picture this. A 12-year-old girl in a floral flannel nightdress. She is listening to a record player – a Christmas album – as she gazes dreamily at the family Christmas tree.

Then the song comes on the radio – "I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus". And I really listened to the words, words that disturbed me because of my belief in Santa Claus. In today's terms, I was really bothered with Santa hooking up with my mother, a mother who I was not sure was sexually active. I have heard many people disclose that they caught their parents "in the act." I never did. Thanks goodness, I might add. They kissed and hugged; that was the extent to what I was exposed to.

And at the time, I was more concerned that a saintly figure would be forcing himself on my mother. Santa was a trusted figure when I was a child. But through a child's eyes, so was the president. Of course, the president to me was very close to the no-name president in "Frosty the Snowman." Someone who wore a suit and we through confetti at. Actually, that sounds a little like Obama.

I digress.

I still believe in Santa Claus. Those who don't believe miss the magic in Christmas. But now the song seems more endearing. So a song I once hated I see in a different light.

Perhaps we would lead richer lives if we looked at our world view from another's perspective. Just a suggestion this holiday season.

"The 12 Days of Christmas" Debunked

As a Catholic girl, I have heard the following explanation of the origins of "The 12 Days of Christmas". There are other origins also, none of which can be proven; I like to believe this one as it places Catholics in a positive light, but it is really not based in reality at all.

I get an email from a fellow Catholic (and a different one at that) probably two or three times over Christmas. But after reading what Snopes has to say on the subject, it seems a bit more like those Arab friends needing to get money out of the country.

"The Twelve Days of Christmas" was written in England as one of the "catechism songs" to help young Catholics learn the basics of their faith. In short, it was a coded-message, a memory aid. Since the song sounded like rhyming nonsense, young Catholics could sing the song without fear of imprisonment. The authorities would not know that it was a religious song.

"The 12 Days of Christmas" is in a sense an allegory. Each of the items in the song represents something significant to the teachings of the Catholic faith. The hidden meaning of each gift was designed to help Catholic children learn their faith. The better acquainted one is with the Bible, the more these interpretations have significance.

The song goes, "On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…"

The "true love" mentioned in the song doesn’t refer to an earthly suitor, but it refers to God Himself. The "me" who receives the presents refers to every baptized person. i.e. the Church.

1st Day: The partridge in a pear tree is Christ Jesus upon the Cross. In the song, Christ is symbolically presented as a mother partridge because she would feign injury to decoy a predator away from her nestlings. She was even willing to die for them. The tree is the symbol of the fall of the human race through the sin of Adam and Eve. It is also the symbol of its redemption by Jesus Christ on the tree of the Cross.
2nd Day: The "two turtle doves" refers to the Old and New Testaments.
3rd Day: The "three French hens" stand for faith, hope and love—the three gifts of the Spirit that abide (1 Corinthians 13).
4th Day: The "four calling birds" refers to the four evangelists who wrote the Gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke and John—which sing the song of salvation through Jesus Christ.
5th Day: The "five golden rings" represents the first five books of the Bible, also called the Jewish Torah: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy.
6th Day: The "six geese a-laying" is the six days of creation.
7th Day: The "seven swans a-swimming" refers to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit: wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety and fear of the Lord.
8th Day: The "eight maids a milking " reminded children of the eight beatitudes listed in the Sermon on the Mount.
9th Day: The "nine ladies dancing" were the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit found in Galatians 5:22-23: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.
10th Day: The "ten lords a-leaping" represents the Ten Commandments
11th Day: The "eleven pipers piping" refers to the eleven faithful apostles.
12th Day: The ‘twelve drummers drumming" were the twelve points of belief expressed in the Apostles’ Creed: belief in God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, that Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary, made man, crucified, died and arose on the third day, that he sits at the right hand of the father and will come again, the resurrection of the dead and life everlasting.

So the next time you hear "the Twelve Days of Christmas" consider how this otherwise non-religious sounding song had its origins in keeping alive the teaching of the Catholic faith.

Tuning In

I woke up this morning and wanted to just tune out of everything digital, everything that some may consider noise (music in the background that you are not appreciating). And this little blog is noise as well. But today being Monday, I had a freakin' blog to write.

Well, my mind will be baking in the sun of some far-off island, no ear buds in my ears, just daydreaming about whatever.

Things about Christmas make me want to abandon my normal routine. I want to just bail out of work – but I really can't do it. Wouldn't feel responsible, me ditching work for an – cough – imaginary cold.

Well – cough, cough – I am going to take the day off. Sorry, I have an imaginary cold.

Leesa's Mailbag: Issue 3

Dear Leesa,

For purely experimental reasons, I was wondering if you could point me in the directions of efficient bomb-making from household items.

Anonymous
User at IP Address 213.223.67.45

Leesa's Answer: I am unable to adequately answer your question. I forwarded your request to Georgia Department of Homeland Security, PO Box 18055, Building 2, Atlanta, GA 30316-0055 days ago. I hope you still have Internet access so you can read my response.

Dear Leesa,

I have tagged you and others for "blogs I read" so I can stalk some peeps myself, however I am not able to get that little widget where their pictures show up because I have not switched to the layout version nor plan to because I don't care much for the format. It makes my blog look weird... Any tips that you can give to switch and have my blog look exactly the same?

~Deb

Leesa's Answer: Okay, I understand the question, sort of, but I am wondering how to answer it. A similar question would be "I really like my 8-track tape player and don't want to change to CD, but I want to be able to play CDs on my 8-track tape player."

And then I looked and looked and looked for the answer. Bottom line is that I now consider myself a complete moron when it comes to everything HTML, Blogspot, and so forth. I have a feeling Google/Blogger really does not want to support the "Classic" version of their product.

Dear Leesa,

You are an excellent writer. Do it for a living! Good luck!

Anonomous

Leesa's Answer: That is not a question, you moron. Oh, you like my writing. How sweet. Does a compliment from a moron count, I wonder? Probably not.

---

Follow My Blog
Google/Blogger has a relatively new widget for following other bloggers. They wrote about it in August, actually, but I am sure many of us don't read "The Official Blogger Buzz." Whether you think of the follower widget as a way to stalk people, show your support to other bloggers or just a way to be part of a croud, please add me as one of the blogs you follow. It might not make you feel better, but it will make me feel better.

Write Me
Please contribute to the questions asked on "Leesa's Mailbag." Over the last few years, people have emailed me with questions, and I have answered them on an individual basis. Now, I think I will answer them on a blog entry. I will do it on Fridays when I have enough questions to cobble together a post. Sort of an Ann Landers with attitude. Just write to the following email address:

Also, let me know if you want to be acknowledged or anonymous. Makes no difference to me. For those who use the comments section to ask a question, I will assume those are public posts.

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"Chris’s presentation was very motivational. I’m ready to go for it!"

-- Vickie Butler Bindes
Quality Manager, BJ Services

This was found here.

It's the Economy Stupid

Was it Carl Marx or Bill Clinton that said, "It's the Economy Stupid"? Bill said it during the 1992 presidential election process, but what he failed to say was that American presidents don't control economic policy. Not really.

I was thinking about the economy today as I was thinking about Christmas presents this year. Our household has not felt the sting of unemployment – both my husband and I have earned more each year for the last several years. Not significantly more, but we have beaten inflation. We have a nice house, no credit card or auto debt, and we spend less than we make. So we are probably doing a bit better than the average American economically.

We are choosing to purchase fewer things for Christmas this year. We will not buy gifts for one another, and we will buy fewer gifts for acquaintances. Family will be getting gift cards this year, and one family member will be getting cash. One thing that we are doing a bit more of will be contributing to charities that help those less fortunate than us.

Each year, I give to Catholic Charities. It is a charity I believe in – because, more than anything, I believe they are ethical, they have low overhead and they spend the money how they say they spend their money. There are other charities who have been in the news for wasting money, spending money in ways not prescribed by donors, that type of thing. I don't worry about that with Catholic Charities.

This year, however, I need to find a charity that is both local and spreads Christmas joy. I need my money to go towards Christmas joy for those who are in financial need, who may be in pain or scared or both. Oh, this is a tangent I did not expect to have. I was talking about the economy.

I think my feelings – feelings that we need to hold on to a bit more money, feelings we need to cut back, feelings that by cutting back I am more in tune with others. All of these feelings will make our economy worse. Consumption in the United States is going down. That means those of us who produce CDs don't get as much money, those of us who make toothpaste don't get as much money, and our economy goes into a tailspin.

I look at my 401-K, at the mutual funds – both bond and stock funds. All have gone down. Read estate is down. Oil is even down. When I was in college, I learned about diversification. The point being that not all investments can be down. Well, years later, I look at the financial news and wonder, "Were my professors full of crap?"

Just because nothing has happened in the past does not make it impossible. Just new.

Being Brave

Recently I visited someone at the hospital. Someone from the office had a major operation and will be out of the office for weeks, so as to make their stay in the hospital more uncomfortable, we visited as an office.

Before I continue with this post, I just want to say that if I am ever in the hospital, I don't want my co-workers to visit. Imagine being cut up, drugged, in a hospital gown, and being surrounded by co-workers. That is more like a nightmare for me.

Now the co-worker will be fine, and if he wasn't, I'd be okay with that as well. Not like we are family. Cruel on some levels, but some people have to get sick, and if a co-worker does, then perhaps someone I really care about dodges the bullet this year. This does not make intellectual sense, but deep down, I sort of believe it.

Anyway, I had excused myself from the party – I was not a main character in the event, and the nurses were looking a bit peeved that we broke some kind of visiting hour rules. I sat with another hospital extra in the waiting area for the OR – and I could see a bunch of families waiting for their loved ones to come out of surgery.

I have never had to do this – wait for someone to come out of surgery. I could see worry and pain on some faces, and it occurred to me to ask my self, "What kind of moral support would I be?"

Would I be a brave wife, a brave aunt, waiting for someone to beckon me to the recovery area? I have never had to be brave, and I am not sure I would be brave when the opportunity presents itself.

Now I am planning non-red-meat meals for my hubbie, making sure he gets all his veggies and that he exercises four times per week. I do this because I really don't want to be one of those people in the waiting room, gazing in space while paging through a Cosmo. I'm not that brave.

Leesa's Mailbag: Issue 2

Dear Leesa,

Writing about what we know from our perspective can often turn out dull and boring. However, it's comfortable because we know what we're talking about. For example, writing what women want in a relationship might be right up your alley. So, in your opinion and experience, what do you think men want in a relationship outside of sex?

Knot

Leesa's Answer: This is my first question, and here is how I read it: "Instead of an easy question, I want you to answer a question that I (Knot) know more about than you do. Na, na, na, na. "

I guess it would depend on the relationship.

1. Long-term relationship. Guess it depends on the guy. Most men probably want to either copy what they grew up with (if their parents fostered a wonderful/good home life) or re-write what they grew up with. The guy wants subconsciously to be his father and wants a mother to complement him.

2. Short-term relationship. Men, even most pig-headed men, want to like the people they are screwing with. I would think a short-term squeeze would want companionship.

No deep insight here, sorry. Maybe it is all about companionship. When long-term relationships end because of a death (which one would think is very traumatic), normally the surviving spouse enters into another relationship within a year. It does not make sense to most of us, but that's what happens. I think people miss the companionship.

Dear Leesa,

I'm a new reader and saw that you had a "Dear Abby" type of experiment being tested out, so I would like to participate if you wouldn't mind.

Let me start by telling you that I have been married to my husband for 3 years now. We both have a healthy sexual appetite and fantasy plays a huge role as well. One of his favorite things to discuss during intercourse is the imagery of myself being with another man. We discuss what I'm doing with this guy as well as what my husband is doing while watching. Sometimes, when we're out at a bar, we'll spot a guy who would fit the fantasy role of our little fetish we have. Most of the time, it happens to be the bartender. We would come home with conjured up sexually explicit stories about me and this new fella to toss around while having sex together.

My question to you is, do you think that my husband may be bisexual or bi-curious because he scouts out men for me or, possibly for him? It has gotten to the point where he is completely obsessed over me being with another man, more so than he is with being with me alone.

I'm nervous we won't be able to go back to normal and dabble in our fantasies once in a while.

Sincerely,
Ophelia Beaverstein

Leesa's Answer: I little bit a fantasy is really good in a relationship. That is all I am qualified to answer.

I don't think your husband is bi-curious or bisexual. I think there are a lot of guys who want to see their spouses with other people. I don't get it, but as long as it is fantasy, perhaps it is okay as well.

A while back, I was answering questions on Yahoo Answers. I looked at some of the unanswered questions, and there was a similar question asked there. So I know your concerns are shared by others. As I am not a qualified therapist – or even a therapist at all – I cannot really give you a good answer. And a smart-ass answer seems to not take your concerns seriously.

Dear Leesa,

I have a dear cyber stalker who treks into both our blogs. She used to be an "old friend" of mine but now has resorted to obsessing over the doodling of our lil' ol' blogs.

She also insists that I'm a "tranny". I take this as a great compliment, only due to the fact that most transitioning "women" are tall and thin.

Any tips?

Sincerely,
The Hunted

Leesa's Answer: You know, I have tried all sorts of things to discourage the stalker as well. I have been nice, been mean, have ignored her. All sorts of things. Now I think I am going to be happy that I have a stalker. And a good one.

---

Follow My Blog
Google/Blogger has a relatively new widget for following other bloggers. They wrote about it in August, actually, but I am sure many of us don't read "The Official Blogger Buzz." Whether you think of the follower widget as a way to stalk people, show your support to other bloggers or just a way to be part of a croud, please add me as one of the blogs you follow. It might not make you feel better, but it will make me feel better.

Write Me
Please contribute to the questions asked on "Leesa's Mailbag." Over the last few years, people have emailed me with questions, and I have answered them on an individual basis. Now, I think I will answer them on a blog entry. I will do it on Fridays when I have enough questions to cobble together a post. Sort of an Ann Landers with attitude. Just write to the following email address:

Also, let me know if you want to be acknowledged or anonymous. Makes no difference to me. For those who use the comments section to ask a question, I will assume those are public posts.

Boobies, Boobies Everywhere

I opened my browser yesterday, and what did I see? Big breasts on a side-bar. Opened another browser window, more breasts and pouty lips. A third browser bar – crap, breasts and wings. [clarification before posting: I did not see crap, it was an expression of frustration at seeing all of the breasts.]

Yes, dear readers, looks like it is almost time for the Victoria Secret annual fashion show. I have actually never seen the show, but there seems to be a lot of internet press on the subject. And it sort of pisses me off.



I remember when there were two main lingerie stores, Victoria Secret and Frederick's of Hollywood. Frederick's was the sluttier of the two stores, and VS was the classy one. I actually only purchased one item at Frederick's – black crotchless pantyhose. I used to love VS.

The only knock I had with them was that their panties were not well made. They would fall apart after a couple of hand washings. Okay, washing on the gentle cycle using Woolite, but still, they should have held up.

For a while, I was really into teddies, and VS had the cutest teddies. Now, you go into the store and they have a couple of teddies and that's all.

What I remember most from the catalog is the fantasy bra. This year, it cost $5 Million. Me and my friends would wonder who would wear such a thing. Some years, there would be a news item on who purchased the item. Most of the time, I think it was just for publicity. And VS gets its share of publicity.

This whole saturation of VS images reminds me of Coleridge's poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.

But instead of water . . . .

Boobies, boobies everywhere,
And all the lads did wank;
Boobies, boobies everywhere,
Nor any cum got drank.

Addendum: Looks like the reader's comments is hidden from me at this time. I think this is a Blogger/Blogspot problem.

Recovering from Thanksgiving

When I was a little girl, Thanksgiving was not one of my favorite holidays. It was actually pretty low on the list. The list went something like this:

1. Christmas
2. Easter
3. Independence Day
4. New Year's Day
5. New Year's Eve
6. Christmas Eve
7. St. Patrick's Day
8. Halloween
9. Mother's Day
10. Groundhog Day
11. Father's Day
12. Thanksgiving

Over the years, some of the more adult holidays made their way up the list and St. Patrick's Day is a bit special for Savannah – it's not that I am Irish. Point being that Thanksgiving was not really that enjoyable for me. But as I have matured, I have really started enjoying the holiday.

Every second or third year, I work at one of the homeless shelters. There is something very rewarding in serving those less fortunate than us. I enjoy the church homilies, the family gatherings, the food, and even the shopping the day after Thanksgiving.

I always sensed that the adults enjoyed the holiday more than me. When you have food, football games, family and conversation, as a child, it is a bit of a yawner. Actually, perhaps it is a bit better for the guys. At least they got to play touch football in the backyard after the dinner. I was on "clean up" duty. Not sure why a uterus is necessary to clear the table, put away the food and wash the dishes, but when I was growing up, I did not question such things.

And several days later, I think I still have a tryptophan-induced content feeling. I hope my boss does not think he will get any work out of me today.