Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Next week my daughter will be 25. Time passes oh so quickly and before you know it they're trading their bedrooms at home for one in their own home. She will always be my little girl it's just that that little girl has now developed into having a woman's body. I've sat on the sidelines enjoying her dreams and trying hard to never impose my dreams onto her life. I had a mother who was determined to do that with me so I know how ego busting that can be. It's exciting seeing that at last she's finally accomplished a goal and dream that's taken her years.
My daughter passed her medical boards and is now a licensed Physical Therapy Assistant. In a beach town where I hear so many parents moaning about how their kids have turned to drugs, are pregnant or basically have thrown their young lives away already, I stand proud knowing my daughter made it. She proves that dysfunctional parents can actually raise a child that is good, productive and will be a fine asset to this society that is so screwed up. She will be a giver to society, not a taker and for this I am proud.
To me she proves that anyone who has a goal and wants it bad enough, can do it. She came from a home of poorer people who couldn't afford to pay for college, both parents have always had to work their butts off, cheap vacations were always on the list and "spoiled" meant something in the refrigerator went bad. Still, she plowed through all those obstacles and came out on the other end a winner. Though our house might not have been filled with an overflowing cash supply, it has always overflowed with love and knowing that everyone in it stood behind everyone else and people actually listened and cared about your life. Personally, I think this is number one when it comes to raising a child. It's not money, vacations, new clothes or giving them everything they want that builds character--it's those rough times where everyone is weathering the storm together that builds true character. If you're a spoiled adult, expect your child to be just as spoiled.
My daughter has faults like everyone else walking this big old planet but what's good about her outshines all of that. She is my hero. She is a woman I look up to and strive to be more like. I have no doubt she will be a fantastic PTA, wife and above all a mother. She already is a fantastic daughter and friend. I'm so proud for her that at last all of her hard work and financial burden has paid off. I'm even prouder because nobody gave it to her, she worked her tan little fanny off for this.
I've always said that when the day comes and I lay my head on the pillow for that eternal rest, I won't be remembered for doing anything noteworthy...except for maybe my daughter. I'm nobody special but to my daughter I'm a hero and someone to be looked up to. It's sorta scary to have that role to live up to but with her it's easy. I know she will remember me with love and she will also know how greatly she was loved. Hell, I'd fight the devil and all his partners to rescue my child. I look at her and I can see me in so many ways, except she's refined everything to be so much better.
And may my epitaph read "Joyce, she was a shitty house cleaner, started many projects and never finished them, dreamed large and produced small, was addicted to fried chicken and Pepsi, had a warped sense of humor, was a loner, thought everything was about her, smoked too many cigarettes and needed to lose some weight but......she was the mother of Felisha and for that all is forgiven."
I love you baby and mother is so damn proud of her little peanut!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
It's been quite some time since I can honestly say a television show has me waiting for it to air each week. Those damn crabbers on The Deadliest Catch have really got me hooked on their show. I can't wait for every Monday to come so I can finally watch a new episode. Though I have to admit I watch the reruns over and over again I'm so hooked. Hell, I can't even eat the damn things.
If you wonder why the price of these crabs are so high, just watch the show and you'll see why. I think I'm also drawn to the show because it's like a soap opera with male characters. Instead of being a "chick flick" its a "dick flick"...and I like it! These burly crab dudes have this middle aged lady hooked. It's quite interesting watching a bunch of "manly men" working a "manly job" and just being themselves.
I've got to give it to them though--they honestly have a very dangerous job. I'm also impressed because these guys are anywhere from their late teens to fifties and they're slinging those pots around like a feather, weathering 100 mph winds with waves and I don't see one throwing up. I'd be in the bathroom spitting out an intestine before we made it out of port. I've got to give it to the crabber dudes.
I find myself relishing the last show of the season and it's also kind of sad. I'll miss my crab boys and watching them bicker like women and nag like women and gossip like women but doing it all in such a damn manly way. I love this show and I can't wait to see them freezing their asses off when the king crabs run through the Bering Sea once again.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
When I read about the fuss that was happening because "OK" magazine out of Britain printed the picture of Michael Jackson dead or on life support, I couldn't wait to get to the supermarket and see the picture. I guess I probably could have found the picture on the internet if I'd wanted to look for it but I didn't. Still, I'll admit I couldn't wait to see what it looked like.
First thing Monday morning when I was in the supermarket I went to the "smut magazine" section (as my husband calls them) and searched for OK magazine. There he was...pasted on the front cover of the magazine. I'll admit I was a bit disappointed, only because I'm sick like that. For some reason he didn't look anything like I expected him to look. He looked alive. Yeah his eyes were closed but the man looked just like he did when he was alive.
I'm not sure what that says about the guy but I guess I expected to see some sort of sign the dude was dead. Then I got to thinking...if he looked that way dead, well, he must have looked dead while he was alive. I wasn't sure at that point that he really wasn't...I mean dead but still alive.
In the picture he almost looked like some freakish vampire that would open his eyes up at I stared at the paper and spit some type of killer funk on me. I mean his eye makeup was absolutely perfect for a guy who was just dead. It was almost like he'd had all his body parts glued on and his makeup done before deciding to O.D. I'm not really sure if the dude isn't some type of supernatural being from beyond the grave.
As I kept looking at him seeming to almost smile in the picture from beyond the grave, I wondered if he'd sold his soul to the devil and wasn't really gone at all. I thought about the Twilight Zone and all those people who had done so with terrible results. It seems Michael would have a different fate though. I couldn't believe all the hoopla that was taking place on T.V. this morning concerning his funeral. It was almost like Jesus had died. Thousands upon thousands of people are followers of this guy as if in some strange religious cult and the news paid ridiculous homage to this guy...as far as this old lady is concerned.
Maybe I'm just getting old and boring but I'd rather had heard something important that really might affect my life today. I mean the guy did have talent but I'm not sure he was deserving of being the main source of news for weeks. I guess that's how desperate our country and world has become that we'd take some freakish, suspected child molester who can dance and sing and turn him into a national hero. What will it be next..."Michael Jackson Holiday". If it's a paid vacation day I guess I'll take it.
I wonder if when he now sings "Man in the Mirror" can he still see himself? Just saying........
Sunday, July 5, 2009
I keep seeing previews of that new show "Dance Your Ass Off" for the past few weeks. In my channel surfing I haven't run across that show until tonight. Basically it's a show where fat people who are anywhere from 50 to over 100 pounds overweight want to lose weight and they'll do it by dancing and watching what they eat. The basic exercise plan seems to be dancing. It's kinda like "Dancing with the Stars Binging on Twinkies".
Basically, these poor fat fuckers get all dressed up in Lycra body suits that look like they've been designed by Liberachie. If not him, some transvestite had to be in the design process somewhere. These outfits are horrible for a fat person to wear and I'm a fat person so I know. 250 pound women have stretch midriff tops in canary yellow with streamers flying off them. I mean lets draw attention to the fat stomach.
Topping it off are the panel of judges. Give me a break! If a 250 pound woman can do two splits within a minute of each other, well, that bitch deserves a goddamn 10 if you ask me. I don't weigh 250 pounds and the last split I did was 25 years ago when I slipped on some soap in the bathtub. These people need to be given points for being willing to humiliate themselves in these horribly gaudy costumes they're forced to wear. Everyone I saw dance was doing a better job than the average skinny ass white person I know and I should know because I'm white. In fact come to think of it, most overweight people I know can move.
Personally, I'm glad to see more shows that show the average person walking the streets of American.....overweight but that can still shake a leg and don't give a damn and will wear costumes made for a person that's a size 5. Hell, just because a person is overweight doesn't mean that they don't have rhythm, don't like to dance and can't have fun. I'm so sick of shows that showcase these anorexic bitches with blond hair that look like their lips sucked on a hornets nest and lemon juice was squirted in their eyes. Who in the hell looks like that? You know if you see these type of people in real life you can't help but stare at them in disbelief. The fat people blend in because they're in the majority...OK, maybe the really, really fat people stick out.
This dance my ass off got me to thinking of the exercise plans that worked for me in the past--a past long, long ago. I hate planned exercising like walking, biking, jogging, weight lifting, yoga, Pilate's and I especially hate gyms. So it seems I hate all types of exercising, which is probably correct. All my weight loss regimes had dance included in them. I literally would "dance my ass off". Having your basic white girl flat ass, it wasn't too hard. It was my exercise plan and it worked quite well. I would dance for about an hour every day and the weight fell off. Of course this dancing was in the privacy of my home when I was alone but me and the dogs danced. I did so well I danced my flat white ass into an anorexic state.
Those days are well behind me and now my body looks like it's preserving itself for a nuclear winter. The show made me think about it though--I've stopped dancing of late. Somewhere 10 pounds have creeped upon my meatier white girl booty and I think it's because I've stopped my private dance sessions. I'm thinking about putting on my shiny bathing suit and wrapping some scarves around my waist and plugging in my Donna Summer CD. I've got some purple lipstick and black eyeliner too. Perhaps tomorrow me and the dogs will have a date to dance our asses off...or finally convince my husband I've lost my mind if he happens to walk in on us. I don't know, what do you think?