Number three?

Uh, before I go totally apeshit, I must remind anyone who might be reading this on purpose that I am a spaz and I am embarrassingly excited by the lives of those who live in the spotlight. Just as I am by the local news folks. So get over it now, or surf on, because I feel a rant coming on...
I got an email yesterday from a dear friend who, like me, enjoys observing the INSANITY of celebrity life. In fact, she is the one who usually turns me on to what's happening in the world of cable television, for example, The Soup, on E! She rocks. She is also an enabler, but whatever. So I got this email with "Train wreck" as the subject, which I, of course, opened with glee. She said she sensed an Anna-Nicole type experience coming on, and her comment was followed by a link:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17197876/
And I knew it would be good, but I NEVER dreamed I would open it to find this:
YEAHHHHH! Yes, folks, that is the beloved Britney Spears, with a freshly-shorn head! A dream come true. WHAT THE HELL? You can read the article (which, by the by, happens to be attributed to Reuters, so don't bitch at me about sources...they are at least more reputable than People Ragazine or TMZ.com, though I love both of those!), but let me paraphrase for you. Evidently, Mommy of the Year went to a salon in the LA area and asked the stylist to shave her head. When the stylist refused, MotY took the clippers in hand and DID IT HERSELF!!! Go, sister. I'm thinking she either was fed up with the damaged state of her tresses (that's right, I said tresses!), or she had a mad case of head lice. Or, she's crazy. Mmmmm. Crazy. Anyway, this girl is heading for some kind of total psychotic break. And as my pal who sent me the story said, where is her family? And what exactly wrong with the picture that is emerging depicting K Fed as the BETTER parent?! Holy crow, I want to pimp-slap her. After the hair shearing party, Ms. Spears then entered an LA tattoo parlor and proceeded to get ink. She got some lips on her wrist and some other nonsense elsewhere, I really don't care about that. If she had tattooed her bald-ass head, then I'd really be happy. Which leads me to the conclusion, the Anna-Nicole scenario regarding MotY, Ms. Britney Spears. I truly hope not, because her little boys deserve better...but all I'm saying is that things do tend to happen in threes. And while the race to interment is on between James Brown and little Vicky Marshall (ANS, duh), position numero tres seems to be vacant. And Lindsay is actually in rehab, at least for a few hours a day, so the chances of her reaching that point have dropped. Only time will tell...Howard K. Stern needs a job, maybe Britty-Poo needs a new attorney?
My kids just got out of bed, and are clamoring for breakfast...WWBD? Anyhoo, I guess I better feed 'em. Peace...

Al, Al, wherefore art thou, Al?

Ok, remember when I said I have a slightly disturbing obsession with our local news people? Yeah. It's sick, but it's true. And I like to keep things familiar, you know? I mean, these people come into my house EVERY day like clockwork (as it happens, the news is on pretty much every day at the same times). I feel, perhaps wrongly so, that I know them and that I have some claim to their well-being. So imagine my shock and outrage when I realized that our beloved Al Petersen was:
A. Missing in Action from the morning news on KEZI 9
and
B. More than likely not returning any time in the foreseeable future.

WHAT THE HELL?
You have to understand, this man has provided countless hours of information and good times for me and my family. BOTH of my children, since they were babies, have been fascinated with Mr. Petersen. Seriously, they would track him visually, stare endlessly, and as they grew, they would smile and laugh when they watched him as if he were a favorite uncle. Weird, I know, but I never claimed to be a member of a stable and sane family. We even saw him on some network bloopers shows, and nobody could ride out and enjoy an on-air mishap like Al Petersen.
So what happened?
From what I understand, Chambers Media decided to weed out the senior talent on their channel...pretty much. Which completely SUCKS. And I'll tell you why: these people have made this news program what it is, which IMO is the best local news station in Eugene. They are professional but accessible. They represent our community perfectly because they are part of it. They aren't offensive or snooty. And dammit, I like them. Which should be reason enough for Chambers to keep them around, frankly.
I hope our friend and neighbor Mr. Petersen goes on to find a really really fabulous career above and beyond KEZI 9 News. And I hope I see him out and about in the community so I can tell him he ROCKS and that we miss him. Hey, I know. I'm pretty sure most people are as sick and sickened by Seacrest as I am, perhaps Idol needs a fresh, new spokesperson.
Cheers, Al.

The Real Poop

Hi kids. Here comes the second post, which would have been first if I were both cruel and unusual. As it happens, and am only unusual, so here I go. What the HELL is wrong with 2007?! New Year's eve filled me with hope that the year would continue to be an improvement on what can only be classified as a hellacious run of bad luck and possibly karma for this family. I won't go there, because to include the last five years' worth of BS would simply make you either run away screaming or shaking your head in disbelief. Probably both. Which isn't a pretty picture. What I am trying to cope with right now is the fact that so far this year has been a mess and it's only freaking February. On January 7 our little great-nephew passed away, he had an accident and hit his head and the whole story is sad and awful and tragic. Our niece, who is amazing and miraculous, is coping and surviving as best she can, and for all of you who have sent prayers and love and vibes our way, we are truly grateful. He was only four, but the loss of his life saved four others, and that is the best miracle of all. We miss you, Kade.
Then we learned last week that our home is now in foreclosure. Yippee. We've been fighting to keep the place and keep our heads above water for several years now, and this is kind of the final blow in a long line of bitch slaps and groin kicks. SO. What now? Not a bloody clue. I've been a bawling mess for the last week, and only seem to have dried up in the last twelve hours. I went on a field trip with Noah's class on Thursday last, and cried the ENTIRE time. Nice. The trip was to an Air and Flight museum, which houses the Spruce Goose (pretty cool), and it is essentially a huge airplane hangar with a gazillion windows. It happened to be a super sunny day, so I wore my sunglasses and looked like a complete fool. Noah's teacher is a wonder, I adore and respect her so much, and she kept passing me those little packs of tissue. She totally understood my situation and had my back, and I am grateful. But now reality is setting in, I have had time to consider the situation, and to be frank (28:06:42:12) I am kind of relieved. I feel like the universe, God, HP, is telling me it is time to start over completely. I think I've been hearing whispers for years now, but now it's yelling, SHRIEKING that it's time. So I'm going with it. Not much choice at this point. My kids are a mess. Zak is a mess. I am a mess. But we're a mess together, and that's what's important. I keep thinking of those families you see on Oprah who totally fall apart and hit the absolute rock bottom of nightmare and strip it all away and end up on her stage telling her how liberating and cleansing it all was. I'm not sure we'll end up at Harpo studios in Chicago, but I'm thinking we'll get some kind of redemption out of this. We'd better. Dammit. Oh, sorry for the swear. There will likely be more at some point, so just be warned. I'll try to keep it PG-13.
That's it for now, mateys. Peace.
Bubba

Official First Post

Avast, me hearties. I've got a lot to say, but I'm going to make the official first post less of a downer. You'll thank me later.
I'm sure you'll be thrilled to learn that I am a 37 year old, married mom of two boys. I am a substitute Instructional Assistant at the boys' school, and I am an artist. Feel free to check out my website. It might be a little bit of a mess right now, as I have been utterly preoccupied with other crap, but you can still look at my fancy art and decide if you like it. Or not. Your call. I promise I won't be mad or use my ninja skills against you in any way if you don't like my shtuff. At least as far as you'll know. :)
Things I love are painting (duh), music (particularly the Dropkick Murphys), movies (particularly the ones without Kevin Costner. Ever.), messing around on the computer (or having my children show me cool stuff to do on the computer as they are far more computer literate than I am), making endless fun of "celebrities" and the ridiculous lives they lead, and spending a little too much time considering the fine folks who report our local news. It's a sick and strange obsession, but it's how I roll. Deal with it. My husband is also an artist (he pretends he isn't but he is a huge liar and has pretty much taught me everything I know about drawing and stuff). He's pretty damn cute and I think I'll keep him around awhile. We've been married for almost twelve years, but been together for roughly eighteen. He installs security systems and fire systems, and could probably automate your home to do pretty much whatever you want it to. He's cool like that. He is extremely funny and irritating and sweet, and we'll call him Zak. Which is handy, because that is his name.
Our oldest kid is ten going on seventeen. He knows everything. Really. And it pisses him off when you tell him he doesn't. It's pretty funny. Eli is a total vidiot, as are all the boys in my family. He is smart as a whip, both in intelligence and as in smart-ass. But I like it. ;) Noah just turned 8 and he, not surprisingly, is also hella-smart and a vidiot boy. He is hilarious and sweet, with some pretty gnarly dance moves and killer stories and ideas. Both my boys are great artists, and I have decided to keep them. I think the warranty probably ran out some time ago anyway.
So that's the fam. The human fam. There are some other family members without thumbs, I should probably mention them. First, we have Chuck. Chuckie, actually. Near as we can tell, he is some blend of Pomeranian, Chihuahua, and possibly Papillion. He's little, he's old, and he stinks, but he's sweet and will snuggle and snuggle as much as you'll let him. Next is Mim, the Magnificent, MARVELOUS Mad Madam Mim. Yellow Lab, Australian Shepherd and Border Collie. She rocks. And, in fact, she used to eat rocks. Then, much to our extreme pleasure, she would puke them back up again. Mmmmm. That's a pretty cool sound to wake up to in the middle of the night: dog retching, followed by the distinct "plunk" of the rock onto the floor. Nice, I know. TMI. My apologies, She doesn't eat rocks anymore, she has moved on to sticks. And that's fine by me. Next we have Hex, our knocked-up vagabond black cat who suddenly appeared on our porch shortly after we lost our big black kitty Boo to (we think) the neighbor's hungry pit bull. Eli named her on Friday the 13th. Now she's knocked up because some neighborhood bully molested her. Grrrreat. Anybody want a kitten? Crap. Last there's Chloe, an inherited box turtle who really is super sweet and cool. She's kind of boring, but she has good taste in video games. She's a Halo fan.
And that's about it. I'm going to go finish my piece of Oreo pie which I did not make myself. Mmmm. Pie. I'm pretty sure my next post will soon. I'm also pretty sure the millions of new friends reading this (ha ha) will be riveted and dying of suspense. Catch ya on the flip, brothers and sisters.
Bubba