7 Fascinating Fun Facts about Cowgirl Betty

“A gal can’t live by condiments alone.”—fracas

Season’s Greetings, Cowfolk. As most of you know, I haven’t had the same access to the wild world of InternetLand for the past six months or so. As a result, my posts have become less frequent. One of my New Year resolutions will be to post once a week. That way I can kick start my creative juices. So, thanks for bearing with me, y’all and not giving up on regularly checking on my site.

I have been reminded by the esteemed fracas about my lazy writing habits, and so I’ve been tagged on a meme as a result. Of course, I will tag others to pass on the Holiday joy. Like the game Othello (also a fabulous seasonal gift), rules take a minute to learn and a lifetime to master. (Well, perhaps writing takes a lifetime to master—something I still struggle with.) The rules are:

• Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
• Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird
• Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.
• Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

(1) I scored a perfect 5 on the English AP exam. A lot of U.S. colleges accept AP (or Advanced Placement) credits for taking higher-level classes in high school if they pass the nationally standardized AP exam for the subject at the end of the year. The first part is your standard multiple-choice reading selections and analogy sections. The second part is an essay answering a question, choosing a work out of a list of twenty or so authors. The question was examining “thoughtful laughter” in literature to demonstrate folly in the human condition. Of the authors to choose from were Jane Austin, Mark Twain, etc. I chose to write about William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury. My English teacher thought I tanked the essay for sure.

(2) I drive around in a rolling trash can. I drive a 1997 Saturn, named Norma Jean, who has seen better days. Norma Jean is littered with McDonald’s and Dunkin Doughnuts bags, coffee mugs, pens, Mapquest directions, and other U.F.O.’s (Unidentifiable Floor Objects). A layer of dust and lint is plastered on my dash, and touching it is reminiscent of reading Pet the Bunny as a kid. One of my jokes to kids is that they can’t steal my trash, nor can they step on it. Sometimes a mysterious odor--I believe it is from some spilled sour milk on one of my back seats--emanates from the seats when it is overly hot, a back window is open during a rain storm, or a kid spills yet another drink on the seat. I have to dump in a quart of oil to my engine about once a week, as Norma Jean burns oil like it is going out of style. I’m hoping she can survive another year before I have to put her out to pasture.

(3) I am a horrible speller. Regular readers already know this. Daddypapersurfer also is more than happy to comment on any of my semantic gaffes. My mother also calls me “Ms. Malaprop”. Usually no one notices when I misuse big, fancy words--except my mother and Hun. (Perhaps other people notice it as well, but they are too polite to mention it.)

(4) Playing video games makes me nauseous. Hun makes fun of me about this. He also tries to encourage me by saying that my mind hasn’t played enough video games to disassociate the action of the game from reality. I’ll stick with Tetris.

(5) I really enjoy tawdry romance novels. This shocks most people who know me. I seem like a straight-shootin’ kinda gal. They then mock me liberally about it. If they only knew how much fun they were. One of my secret goals is to write a tawdry romance novel one day. You know, one with a spunky heroine named after a plant (Willow, Fern, Iris) and a hero named after an architectural feature or a bird of prey (Sir Hawksbuttress, Duke of Roman Arches).

(6) I hated Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows. The first couple of chapters were good, and the last couple of chapters were good. However, I’d rather not drag through 600 pages of Harry whining and arguing with Hermione and Ron. I also think it is truly stupid for J.K. Rowling to “out” Dumbledore. Making Dumbledore gay just added absolutely nothing to the series. I think Rowling did it to stimulate sales from the Religious Right to buy in bulk for their rollicking book-burning parties. Now making Dumbledore gay from the onset--like when the creators of The Wire introduced the bad-ass, Robin Hood, dealer-robbing Omar--that is a different story.

(7) I eat fear for breakfast. Actually, I don’t. I eat granola and yogurt, drink two small cups of coffee, and take multivitamins. I thought it was just a very cool, Jack Bower-esque way to end the meme.

As far as tagging folks goes . . . I will tag the following: (1) OnKnees, my lady in arms, fighting the good fight, (2) my mother, The Heiffer, who is also a big romance novel fan, (3) Kimchihead to find out what really makes him tick, (4) Stella, for her fun haiku, (5) Sugar Queen for making the world sweeter, (6) R. K. Texarado, who’s humor is dryer than the Dust Belt, and (7) Rybu, who truly understands cold weather. I can also now safely say, “Not-it!”

All I Want for XMas:

Dear Santa,

I think I've been a very good girl this year. I only received one speeding ticket this year, and I have paid it off. (Not only that, but I was FRAMED, I tell ya!) I have made lots of apple crisp this year and bought countless of McDonald's Happy Meals to help increase cholesterol levels for displaced foster children in the Hudson Valley. I have a few things to ask for this year, Santa. The list is as follows:

(1) World Peace. This is always a good way to start off a Christmas list. It helps the list maker not appear as selfish as she really is. I also am quite fond of the idea of all the children of the world receiving proper nutrition and clean drinking water. That goes without saying.

(2) Jack Bauer's Fists of Determination. With a menacing glare and a raise of the pinkie finger, the world would bend to my will. This would decidedly help with my XMas wish #1, although 24's Jack Bauer is decidedly not a very peaceful person. This would also help me brave any bureaucratic red tape at work, as well as managing New York driving in general.

(3) A new car. I would dearly love a new car. However, I would not dearly love a new payment. Hence, I will need to have one of my loving friends or rich strangers to give one to me. An Audi TT would work nicely for transporting toddlers back and forth to medical appointments and I am certain the gas mileage is wonderful . . .

(4) The sour chocolate milk smell emanating from my backseat in my current car to disappear. If I have not been good enough this year to deserve an Audi TT, a super-heavy bottle of ultra Fabreeze will do. I suppose I will make do with my 10-year-old Saturn with crapped-out shocks if I need to . . . but I would be disappointed.

(5) My pirated video system to actually work. Although I can import media, such as music and pictures onto my non-linear editing system, I have issues capturing footage onto my system to edit. I tried to upgrade my system with some free downloads. Now the program won't even open up, saying there is now a systems error. So much for youtube superstardom for right now.

(6) A cease and desist order for "wintry mix" weather in Upstate New York. I friggin' hate the icy shit that falls from the sky. Upstaters are in some serious denial that "wintry mix" constitutes a "Winter Wonderland". There is nothing wonderful about it. It does prove, however, that Hell--indeed--does freeze over.

(7) Time with friends and family. I am very excited about heading back to Colorado for Christmas and seeing my friends and family. I really miss them. My coworkers are good company--they don't compare to my dear friends back in Colorado. As Dorthy said (or was it Nietze?), "There's no place like home."

(8) An indoor swimming pool. Although, I think our landlord might be upset. (Dog would be in snake heaven.) I guess I need to settle for finding an indoor swimming pool after Christmas. (See future blog entry regarding a list of New Year's resolutions.)

(9) Sunlight. We don't get much sunlight here. It is mostly gray and threatening icy shit. It usually--like typical New Yorkers--doesn't carry out the promise. It does cast an atmosphere of gloom and general malaise. I used to look forward to cloudy days in Colorado because it meant a change in weather, and some much-needed moisture. Here, the cloudy weather just sucks one's soul dry. No wonder Upstaters are cranky. At least NYC has Times Square.

(10) The perfect job. I would like a job closer to where I live, so I don't have to commute over two hours a day. I would also like a balance of using my brains to solve problems, some multi-tasking so I don't get bored, and nice people who don't yell at me about things I cannot control. Any ideas are greatly appreciated. (Again, see future New Year's resolutions blog.)

This is all I ask for Santa. It's not too much. Give me a Holla when you roll down our chimney!

Betty

Thank You Very Much

Hun and I just returned from a short trip to visit the in-laws in the Land of Cleves, as my brother-in-law puts it, and we are now ten pounds heavier. We hit some weather on the way to Ohio and back. We enjoyed watching the last of the autumn leaves drop to the ground while driving to Ohio and the snow falling while eating out Thanksgiving dinner at Hun's aunt's and uncle's house. I visited with various in-laws and got to hold squiggly crawlers and discuss the fashion philosophies of Barbie to 4-year-olds. I also accepted that I am not nearly as cool as my sister-in-law when it comes to coloring, playing Barbies, or . . . well . . . anything and everything for that matter.

We are anxiously awaiting our trip to Denver to celebrate the Holidays and see actual mountains--rather than the hills they call mountains in New York. I don't know if I will get a chance to snowboard while in Colorado, considering the season hasn't started out well. At least they have snowboarding in New York. However, there is no comparison once you've ridden the champagne powder on the Colorado slopes. (Can I get more elitist?) But beggars can't be choosers. It's either snowboarding or starting smoking to catch some adrenaline rush. I hadn't hit the slopes once last year.

I also am remiss on updating my latest blogging project. I plan on making it more interactive, but have yet to figure out how to do it. People seem to be quite shy. I need to put it more out there. Perhaps I can film a vlog, capturing the opinions of Albany Christmas Shoppers about their first time being in love, or when they knew it was all over. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated. It's a work in progress. (Perhaps it's not as sexy as the mini-doc I did in grad school about the Vietnam War, but hey--I gotta start somewhere.)

I'm getting more random hits on this blog per day. I'm pretty sure all ten of them are my personal friends, and I'm upset they aren't more religious about checking my blog anytime I release my pearls of triviality to grace cyberspace. (I'm just kidding. You know who you all are, and you know I love you deeply. So quit frowning.)

It seems people have more of a penchant for personal tragedy--not too tragic, mind you. Something people can easily relate to an say, "Gee, that's a mega-heinous outfit/work story/cooking experiment. There but the grace of God go I, as I am intellectually superior/culturally savvy/street smart/really, really ridiculously good looking."

Another confession . . . I am super addicted to youtube superstar, William Sledd, of Ask a Gay Man. Some of his vlogs about his latest trip to NYC or drinking exploits on Halloween I could skip. But his hatred of painter pants and sweat pants is high-larious. You should check it out.

Hun and I finished watching Series 4 of 24, enjoying the Jack Bauer uber-manliness. I am very thankful of the series writers/producers for sequestering Jack's be-hated daughter, Kim, to Arizona to raise a family with the forgettable Chase. I'm a closet Chloe fan myself, personality disorder and all.

Wow. There is a whole lotta nothing going on with me. Umm . . . I'm done with Christmas shopping . . . I could talk about the mountain of work I need to do, but that isn't anything new or glamorous. I drove over 300 miles today for a work-related appointment. I have an adoption worker who is wanting me to make some serious custody decisions I know I have no authority making because she doesn't have the balls to make the tough call she knows she has to abide to for the betterment of the greater good and--oh ya--New York State child law.

Weehaw.

Betty

The Zen of Jack Bauer

I have a little confession . . .

Hun and I are addicted to 24. We buy all the DVDs of the past seasons. It's great escapism on the surface. But if you look closely enough, you can see a deeper philosophy we can all aspire to--the Zen of Jack Bauer . . .

Jack Bauer Teaching #1: Whenever asking a question, you are more likely to get honest answers by maintaining strong eye contact--through the scope of your your firearm.

Jack Bauer Teaching #2: In many societies, a task is assigned to a youth as a sacred right to adulthood. At CTU, it's getting tortured or killing a terrorist. That's how you get your balls to drop.

Jack Bauer Teaching #3: High-ranking members of the U.S. Presidential Cabinet have executive powers. For instance, Secretary of Defense James Heller need not aim his gun when he shoots. The bullets track the terrorists and pierce their cold, evil hearts.

Jack Bauer Teaching #4: Only allow yourself to be captured if there is no hope of escape, and if terrorists plan on torturing you until you die. That way, when you are resuscitated from the brink of death, you will have them right where you want them--crying like babies and spilling their guts (both literally and figuratively).

Jack Bauer Teaching #5: Like Buddhist monks being forbidden to touch women, Jack Bauer must not maintain eye contact while speaking to women. Bauer's masculinity is such a powerful force, he can impregnate them with a probing glance.

Jack Bauer Teaching #6: Throughout the ages, each epic hero has his sacred prayer he repeats to summon his strength from his Divine Mother. Jack Bauer's is "Damn it!" and "Son of a bitch!". Any time he repeats his sacred oath, y'all better clear out 'cause a big ol' can of whoop-ass is headed your way. As an aside: Jack Bauer has no mortal mother. He clawed his way out of the depths of the Earth.

Jack Bauer Teaching #7: Age teaches wisdom and a sense of duty. When Jack Bauer was a youth, he was the head of a vampiric motorcycle gang and feasted on the blood of his enemies. Now, he is the head of a gang of anti-terrorists and feasts on the blood of the enemies of the United States.

This is an incomplete list of teachings. Perhaps you can share some of the lessons learned through Zen Master Jack Bauer.

Cinamon Rolls and Black Coffee

It's the first day of fall--my favorite season. I have all my sweaters thrown around the apartment, and I decide I am tired of them all. I found a decent thrift store yesterday and I bought two sweaters and some matching hand-painted teacups and saucers. I noticed a decent piece of furniture to refinish, and art-deco dresser and mirror, but the asking price is too steep for the bother of hauling it home and baptizing it in stripper, sand paper, and varnish.

I show off my finds to Hun. He looks unimpressed with them all. He asks me if I plan on washing the sweaters before I wear them. He reminds me we have plenty of teacups and mugs bursting forth from our cabinets. I explain I plan to decorate with them, not drink with them.

I make birthday lasagna for Hun in the kitchen. He comes to kiss me and investigate my progress.

While the lasagna is baking, I wallop Hun at backgammon. Thunder crashes and rain pours down from the sky.

We rush outside and test Hun's new rain gear. He is in awe of the GorTex contraption, playing with all the little gadgets. He is in heaven.

Although my jacket keeps my torso relatively dry, my jeans are soaked.

We return to our apartment. Hun still praises the virtues of his new raincoat. I peel off my soaked jeans. Hun points out the only dry spot on my jeans is the area around my butt. He snickers and I roll my eyes--but I smile anyway.

Hun takes out the lasagna to cool. He wallops me at backgammon.

We eat lasagna and watch Jack Bauer save the world yet again on 24.

I make cinnamon rolls and black coffee this morning . . . mmmm . . . I love fall.