I would have ruled this world too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!
Saturday, December 30, 2006


And the deaths, they keep a'coming. All I wanted was a simple blogiday. EVERYONE, STOP DYING, RIGHT THIS MINUTE!

Wednesday, December 27, 2006


Not to rude or anything.....but could everybody else please hold off dying until the New Year? Its just all too sad.

Monday, December 25, 2006


Friday, December 22, 2006

Pink Floyd - Bike animated video

Wednesday, December 20, 2006


Stew tagged me to do a "Six Weird Things About Me" meme. I know the reason he did this is because I am so slack at blogging lately. There were some other instructions, mostly something like, "do this meme" or something like that.


1. I always thought Desi Arnaz Sr. was kind of hot.

He was! He was kind of hot!

2. I have wonky eyes. Some say I have "weak eyes" and some people say I just look stoned all the time. I came by this trait honestly as my mother had the same exact wonky eyes too. I also can't see worth a damn and it keeps getting worse, so why keep my eyes wide open? The only time they look normal is if I'm deeply interested in something and then I am told they shine. What the hell does THAT mean?

3. One of my grandmothers loved smoking. When she was on her deathbed in the hospital, she cried to my Dad because she wanted a puff. He lit one up and held it for her. She pulled on it like a baby does a bottle, and her look of ecstasy was a sight to behold. I haven't been to her grave too many times, but when I do go, I always take a pack of cigarettes to leave there instead of flowers. I think she appreciates the cigs more than she would flowers. I'm sure the caretaker is like..."what in the honey-baked hell is this?"

4. I am the only person in my whole entire state who hates NASCAR. I once had a friend stop speaking to me because I called Jeff Gordon a "Uni-brow". She got over it eventually.

5. I sing most of the day, making up the lyrics as I go. The running dialogue can consist of tune from rap to opera. My songs most often involve whatever my cats or hamsters happen to be doing at tbe moment, but any subject is game.

My song driving home tonight was:

"I love traffic! The fumes make me feel FAN-TA-STIC!"

6. There was a time in my life where if someone screamed "MY THREE SONS!", we'd run to get in place. The two who scored the outside positions either tapped their feet or crossed their feet, depending on their placement. The lucky one who scored the middle got to do the hand action. And we all sang "da da da da..." See below:

My Three Sons Intro

Sunday, December 17, 2006


You might have guessed it already. I've been cheating on ya'll again. Not with Myspace this time. This time I've been drawing a Pink Floyd cartoon for another website. Its really, really fun though. But I have been neglecting Planet duties lately. I shall try to do better.

My famous family Christmas party was last night.....you know....the one that always gives me huge anxiety attacks. This year I screwed up because I asked my uncle for HIS grandparent's names, because I have a picture of them and I don't know their names. This resulted in huge discussion amongst the older ones about their ancestors. Then the oldest aunt gets pissed off because my uncle's wife actually knows more of the family history than the actual kids do, if that makes any sense. She was like, totally steamed about it. Everyone always talks shit about about my uncle's wife and you know what? I'm tired of it. Yeah, she's kooky and strange, but give the woman a break why don't you. In the past something like this would have sent me into a full-blown anxiety attack but you know what?? I'M SO OVER IT. Screw the relatives, and I'm glad I caused trouble. Because if it hadn't been that, it would have been something else. And I have a whole year to come up with another way to cause trouble for the next party.

And now my uncle and I have a future date to visit the cemetary. He wants to find his grandparent's graves and stuff. I'm down with it. My inner goth is clapping with glee.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006


Tis the season and I can't help but notice the trees in the parking lot at work. A few of them are LOADED with mistletoe. I bet you didn't know that I can spot mistletoe growing in a treetop from a mile away. You can only see it in the winter though, after all the leaves are gone.

I want some of that mistletoe. But it only grows in the treetops.

Do you think anyone would be alarmed if I showed up in the parking lot of work with a shotgun and shot some down?

I've only had live mistletoe once. When I was a young teenager I spotted a small bundle growing just out of reach. I couldn't believe it, real mistletoe that I could get to! Yeah, we used to get excited about things like that back then. And there was a big bonfire for the youth group coming up on New Year's Eve, so I was already calculating who was going to be there and who I was gonna kiss. And I WOULD get the most kisses because everyone has to obey the Power of the Mistletoe, right? There was one guy in particular I wanted to plant tulips on. Get it? Tulips? Never mind. It was a great secret and I wasn't sharing it with anybody.

The little patch of mistletoe had been tricked into believing it was growing in a treetop because the tree was a dwarf pine. I tried to shimmy up the tree but no-can-do. I slipped and my hands rubbed into the bark. Nice and bloody. Yuck. There was no way I could use a shotgun.....the preferred method of harvesting. Somebody would hear that and come running.

I actually tried to make a bow and arrow with rubberbands and a stick but that was a bust. Finally, I had to recruit a cousin in on the plan, which sucked because now I had to halve my ball of mistletoe and who knew who SHE was plotting to kiss? But there was nothing else to be done. She made the little cup with her hand and boosted me up. I got to the branch but couldn't reach the mistletoe. Just out of reach. I hung there a minute and then dropped.

I was going to get that mistletoe, whatever it took.

So we had a recruit a neighborhood BOY to help out. Not one of the bonfire boys, mind you, just a regular BOY. He was bigger than us and he knew exactly what he wanted as payment. A kiss from both me and my cousin. OH YUCK! But we said we would IF we got the mistletoe.

He gave me the boost and I was able to sling my arm around the branch. Just a swing and.......the branch broke. I probably only dropped 5 or 6 feet but it felt like a million. I hit the pine straw forest floor hard. No broken bones, but I was scratched and sore. And in my grubby little hand was the mistletoe!! It wasn't the whole ball of it, but it was enough to get the job done.

So then we had to kiss the neighborhood boy. It was really gross. We weren't worried about him telling other people though...its not like we had a choice...we had to obey the Power of the Mistletoe!

By the time of the bonfire, everybody under the age of 18 in three counties knew I had real live mistletoe with Magic Power. I shared it a leaf at a time, and then we started splitting the leaves in half. I am pretty sure everybody got at least ONE kiss from someone at the bonfire on New Years' Eve.

And yes, I did get my kiss from the Special Boy. But he couldn't kiss worth a damn, all slobbery and stuff....ewww. That was the end of the road for him. I ended up dating the gross neighborhood boy later on instead.

Friday, December 08, 2006


I didn't have a BAD day....it was just a BLAH day. Low energy, boring work, semi-bad attitude. And then, to top it all off, I had to go to the GROCERY STORE after work! As most of you know, grocery shopping is what I hate the worst, followed closely by cooking, dishes, laundry, and dusting. But I digress.

So there I was, grocery shopping and hating life to the extreme. And then......with a thundering boom the skies parted, the sweet voices of angels began to sing, and as the shimmering, healing lights of heaven beamed down, I exalted in a vision of great magnitude:

A Johnny Depp magazine. A whole magazine about Johnny Depp. With Johnny Depp pictures and Johnny Depp interviews. Its kind of like a Johnny Deppapalooza. I can wallow around in Deppness anytime I want to. And even though I don't get paid until tomorrow, I held the magazine closely and realized that oh yes, it would be mine. (bitch costed $9.95!)

And speaking of hotness, I think Avon is on to something good. I've been dealing Avon out on the streets for well over 6 months now, and never has an Avon book caused so many women to get all sweaty and bothered:

I have women coming to me begging for the book! They are asking if Derek Jeter himself is actually for sale. Naturally, my inner saleswoman took advantage of this interest to go ahead and pimp him out for a few nights at $29.95 (including a free makeup bag!), but something tells me I'll have to refund that money. I had no idea Derek Jeter was like, such hotness.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, but can he sell cologne? The world will be watching.

Thursday, December 07, 2006


The internets are getting on my nerves lately!

1. I keep having to log into everything. I was told this means my cookies have been turned off. This bothers me. You know, yeah, back when I was married, my cookies eventually got turned off. My cookies should be fully functioning now. And what do my cookies really have to do with the internet, anyway?
2. Passwords. I'm really tired of passwords. I've tried to be a good girl and vary my passwords. That way if someone finds out a password, they can't then access every facet of your life and steal your identity. Then there are the sites that want you to make a password that also includes a number. And then, when your cookies aren't functioning, you have to remember all this stuff. How am I supposed to remember all this stuff? I really need to get my cookies whipped into shape.
3. How come Blogger keeps wanting me to update to Blogger Beta? It keeps telling me that Blogger Beta is BETTER! But it doesn't tell you HOW it is better. And the only thing I can think of is that other Beta from the past.....you know, the one that doesn't fit any VCR and has practically fallen off the face of the Earth. Can anyone tell me the advantage of Blogger Beta?
4. How come when I post on some boards, there appears a Gravatar icon? I don't have a Gravatar, so I get this big, blue "G", laying on its side, next to my posts. I don't like what this implies....like I am some kind of lazy, Gravatarial failure. And if you're a failure on the internet, baby, you are REALLY a failure.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006


I can't believe I'm heading into my third Christmas of blogging but I've never blogged about The Fruitcake. I have a fruitcake that looks exactly like one of the smaller ones above. Just exactly like it.

Yep. Except its like, 15 years old.

So why do I have a 15 year old fruitcake? Its very hard to explain. I don't remember who gave us The Fruitcake. When The Fruitcake first entered the household, I put it out with the milk and cookies for Santa Claus. I didn't take it out of its wrapper, I just sat it there.

Well, Santa doesn't eat fruitcake either.

I was not the one who put the thing in the freezer after Christmas. It was my darling ex-husband who did that, for reasons unknown. probably because there was going to be no trash service for a few days. Gradually, it began to dawn on me that yes, last Christmas' fruitcake was in the freezer, but I wasn't sufficiently moved to actally take action about it.

If I remember correctly, the next Christmas I had forgotten cookies for Santa. When you have a two-year-old child staring at you about to cry, you think fast. "Oh wait, there's FRUITCAKE in the freezer!" "Mommy, does Santa like fwootcake?" "Honey, Santa can't get enough fruitcake!" So out came the fruitcake to the table, still wrapped, next to the milk.

The next morning, I didn't want my child thinking Santa didn't like his fruitcake, so I threw it back into the freezer to hide it. And thus a sacred tradition was born.

The Fruitcake comes out on Christmas Eve. It thaws. It goes back in the freezer on Christmas Day. Also, there have been several (quite a few, actually) hurricanes, ice storms and other special occasions when The Fruitcake has been thawed. When Hurricane Fran hit, I actually tucked it into the bottom of our cooler, but as the town ran out of ice, it thawed. I put it in a distant corner of the house.....just in case it got to stinking............but it never stank. Its probably preserved in a hard fruity casing, kind of like a Neanderthal ant preserved in amber.

Now Stew wants me to send it to him so he can give a 15 year old fruitcake to his neighbor as a joke. NO WAY! Its taken me 15 years to get it to this point. This is a seasoned fruitcake, thawed and frozen to perfection. If I could put it under my microscope, I would probably observe several layers of microbes, frozen stiff, only to rise again at the next thaw, more powerful than ever before. You know, Penicillin was discovered under strange kitchen circumstances, I'm liable to have the cure for cancer growing in my freezer.

A joke, indeed. I'm donating that baby to Science when I pass on.

Monday, December 04, 2006


Somehow my blog has become a depository of teenage nightmare stories. Go figure.

My child has become an out-of-control Want Machine:


She wants a car. Har-dee-har-har. She wants CD players, DVD's, jewelry, freaky hair styles, killer nails, a gym membership, a tanning membership, a laptop, wide-screen TVs, home entertainment systems and unbelievable cell phones. People Of The World, I don't mind telling you that my salary only stretches just so far!!! Working for Conglomo is a good thing, but only the Prez is making the millions, yaknowwhudimsayin'?

And of course, no mention has been made of HER getting a job. Actually, that's not true, I'VE mentioned it many times, but it hasn't happened yet.

Now here's the latest. There is a shed in my back yard. Its an attractive little shed that my father built when I was a little girl. My sister and I made it into a "club house" back in the day....that is, a safe place to go smoke cigarettes and read rock magazines while blaring music that my mother couldn't stand.

Now my child wants to make a "club house" for her and her friends. I know she's not smoking, but I bet she wants to play some of her music I can't stand down there at loud volumes. She has enlisted all of her friends to help her clean this shed. All of the boxes of stuff I had stored down there are now back in my house. I haven't uttered any complaints.....she's going to be 18 in a year and a half, you know?

But now she is plotting paint, carpet, tools to paint and carpet with, and who knows what else. She even went and got COLOR SAMPLES, fer gawd's sake. She's contemplating curtains and furniture. Next thing you know, she's going to be arranging for ductwork for the heating and air-conditioning.

My thing is.......WHO IS PAYING FOR ALL THIS? I haven't said a word, and I'm not going to say a word. I am not paying for the ultimate playhouse, I'm just not going to do it. And if someone gets a J-O-B, she's not going to have time to lounge in the ultimate playhouse anyway.

I wish I was rich and could give her everything. But I'M JUST NOT.

Friday, December 01, 2006


Its December 1st and you long-time readers already know how the Christmas season kicks off on this here blog. Bringing in an un-heard of THIRD season, I again present to you that heart-warming Planet Brenda original:

You better watch out
You better not cry
Put on your sexiest pout
I'm telling you why
Johnny Deppclaus is coming to town!

You're making a fist
You're clenching it tight
You'd KILL to kiss those lips just once or twice
Johnny Deppclaus is coming to town!

With him you wish you were sleeping
You dream about it when you're awake
You just know he's probably both bad AND good
An orgasm you would never have to fake!


You better watch out
You better not cry
Put on your sexiest pout
I'm telling you why
Johnny Deppclaus is coming to town!