My Town Music Monday

It kinda fits in both categories since what I'm featuring today is an original song by Lacey Brown who lives here in Amarillo. I first heard her sing at christmas at the church my brother attends.

Not long after he introduced me to her, we found out she had auditioned for American Idol. I followed even more religiously than usual, getting excited every time I spotted her on the show. She made it up until the top 36, where she didn't quite make the cut. I've been watching the show for the last few weeks and I for one don't know what the hell the judges were thinking:

Accompanied by Ryan Culwell who co-wrote Give Me a Heart with her:



Don't forget to head over to Travis's site for more My Town Monday goodness!

When can I quit my job?

Okay, so here's the deal.

I don;t know whether to be so excited I could pee my pants (jumping up and down in excietment as we speak,) Or nervous as hell.

I go between - "this is so awesome, I can't contain myself", to "I don't know what the hell I've done to myself."

I was over the moon with myself because someone accepted my bid for a freelance writing job. I haven't even started that one yet. I got another bid, for 10 articles in a week." Friday about 2 am I felt so accomplished, even though I'd slept very few hours during the week, while taking care of my family and going to my "real" job

Then the guy who hired me for the blog posts, decides he needs a job done with a higher priority. So now two jobs have suddenly turned into 3 with a promise that if this job works out I'll have "a ton of work" sent my way.

Then, this was in my email this more. From the guy with the 10 articles...."I appreciate your work. Could use 20 more articles. Are you interested?"

Holy Hell, I'm now a Professional Writer!

JAMBI

nothing like a little Tool to get you going in the morning.

Phallic Friday

I promise not to make this a weekly thing!

I have always understood that men have deep rooted "Attachment" to their genitals. All day long you're scratching and shifting and yanking on "the boys" But I never got how early it happened in your development.

My son is not even a year old. I've never seen him happier than the few minutes it takes to change the dirty diaper to a clean one. And if he can run off before the clean one gets put on he's ecstatic!

I buy the boy bath toys, but does he pay with them? NO. He's too busy pulling and pinching the little bits. He could play with the thing for hours!

But this morning was too much. I was changing his diaper and wiggled IT at me. Wiggled it! I could hear the words "Helicopter,helicopter..." echoing in the dark corners of my mind...

He WIGGLED he willy at me!

The little shit takes after his father... It just goes to show that men NEVER grow up!!!

This is why I write

On the way to the sitter's this morning I was thinking about how nice it would be to have the freedom of a child again.

I remembered what it was like to watch my cousin climb up the back of the football bleachers in Kress, and how even though my grandmas chewed her ass- she smiled. It was worth it to her to feel the fear of falling, to feel the wind in her face-to feel the victory of conquering such an obstacle.

I want to feel that again. I want to play tackle football in the rain, to feel the wind in my hair going ninety down the highway.

I want to make a magic potion of milk, pickle juice and ketchup because if I drink it-I can stay up until the sun rises.

I want to play capture the flag and use the whole block for hide and seek. Or if we have to be banished inside-upgrade hide and seek to murder in the dark.

I want to steal garden gnomes and pumpkins and then send ransom notes to their owners, I want to play Charlie's Angels.

I want to swing, and jump, to fly, even if for half a second, and then feel my feet buried in the sand.

I want to be a boxer.

I want to transfer the pool in the backyard to the sea, and when I duck under the water I want to grow a fish tail and wear seashells over my breasts, and braided into my hair.

Anyone want to play with me?

Blog Whore

Yep. I'm a blog whore.

I go back and forth-back and forth. When one blogger fails to post for the day I get antsy-feels like little ants are crawling under my skin. It started off simply enough. I'll start a blog site so my friends who give a damn can read my demented ramblings. But then I read someone else's and had to comment. They in return commented back and now I've created a monster. My list of one blog to read has become over ten and I keep finding MORE!

I start reading one and suddenly its 3'clock in the afternoon and I've wasted my day! I'm at work trying not to call people the "Stupid cow" I wanted to call them and I reach in my pocket and find my phone. "I have unlimited access to the internet," I think and I wonder if I just poke my head in to see what so and so has to say... and then the pharmacist is throwing empty bottles at my head.

I'm an addict-with an endless supply. DAMN.

But the last few days people have been slacking. 2-3 days with no post! You slay me!

And then I look at my own empty pages. What if I'm the crack in someone else's literary crack pipe? What if my whopping 4 followers feel the same? Have I let you down,my faithful followers?

Let the demented ramblings resume...

Two-Line Tuesday

From Christina Dodd's Touch of Darkness

As the Ferry closed on the island, he could see more detail-the blush of summer grass,the few trees, bent and blasted by wind, the white sand beaches beneath the cliffs. The place was a haven for seabirds; they wheeled through the air, crying of long migrations and short summers, and a single golden eagle flew high above them all, hunting...always hunting.

And mine:

It was still dark in the room, and though I couldn't hear the rain, I could see the shimmer of it against the glass of the window. From the chair next to my bed, a slumped figure snored softly.

Remember to head over to women of mystery for more two-lines.