Saturday, April 10, 2010

Chickadees Are Birds. Unrelated to Chickens. I know that.

Hi World,

Was just looking at my fan page invitation to become a chickadee.  And laughing.  Because chickadees do not really have all that much to do with Chickens, now, do they?  But I think it is the Maine state bird, and I am from Maine, so I'm keeping it.  Consider it an insider joke.  Besides, I very briefly changed it to "Chick" and it just didn't flow.  So I'm keeping it.  Be my Chickadee.  Please?

Embarassing "I" story still coming.  Stay tuned.

H is for Hannah.

Good morning, World:

This morning, as I lay in bed rubbing littleb's back in hopes that he would go back to sleep instead of chanting, "I want cake, I want cake, I want cake, I want cake"....

I know.  Annoying, right?  Apparently he had a dream about cake. 

Wow.  That may be my worst digression yet.  I just left that sentence hanging there.  I'll never be a decent writer if I keep doing butt guts like that.

Can I start again?  Okay.  This morning as I lay in bed I ran various "H" words through my head trying to attach them to some kind of tangible memory or thought in my brain.  At one point, I thought I was just going to go with "Hello" and call it a day.  But. I've already made enough of a mockery of this game with my whole Cluck it, Fuck it, let's just do the entire alphabet in one day shenanigans.  So I felt a little more effort was required.

And then the word Hannah popped into my head and ding ding ding, we had a winner.

My father is a beautiful human being.  He is a great father and through the years, he has done so many of the parenting things right.  He did, however, commit one heinous faux pas and ungrateful child that I am, I'm going to call him on it right here in the Chicken pages.

He nicknamed his daughters.  After cows.

I have a very unusual first name, to begin with, that I've had to shorten to something more straightforward in order to avoid repeated mispronunciations and stupid questions/statements like, "Is that Asian?  Sounds Asian".   No, Asshole.  Look at me.  I have blue eyes, blondish hair, and skin like a vampire. I do not look remotely Asian.  Sometimes I would just make up a story:  Yes, it is Asian.  How astute of you to notice that.  Most people don't realize since I don't look remotely Asian, but  I was adopted at birth by a Cambodian couple and named after my adopted papa's mother, now deceased, but former personal assistant to the wife of the former prime minister of Cambodia.  I am honored to carry her name. 

My father is to blame for my Asian name, too.

I'm procrastinating possibly because I really do not want you to know this.  The nickname bestowed upon me by my father and the one I have been known by ever since in his company is Clarabelle.  Yup.  This is what I think of when I hear the name Clarabelle:

Why on earth would a father do that to a daughter?  Dad?  'Splain this to me?  I know you grew up on a farm and all, but babies are not cows.  One does not stick a baby with an Asian/Cow name?  What the hell were you thinking Dad????

My Sister, J, also had a cow nickname, but hers, which was "Hannah", was not nearly as offensive as mine.  I mean, Hannah is pretty mainstream.  It's really a lovely name and I've only met a few cows named Hannah over the years.  Plus, I'm quite sure Hannah was an infinitely more attractive cow than Clarabelle.  Here's what I think of when I picture Hannah the cow:

Incidentally, my sister also got the lovely American first name, as well.  Dad, were you playing favorites?  She's younger than me. She was probably a total accident.  But she gets a better name?  Bad form, Dad.  Not fair.

Dad was possibly not thinking of Cows at all.  As I recall, Howdy Doody had a partner and the partner's name was:

Clarabelle.  The Clown.  Really, Dad?  You looked down into the big blue eyes of your tiny infant daughter and you saw a bald clown?  Perhaps a bald, Asian cow clown?  It is pretty apparent to me, now that I've worked this through, that my father is totally to blame for my weird sense of humor.  Let that be a lesson, Peeps.  Nickname your kid after a Clown and she just might grow up to be a clown.  A weird bald Asian cow clown.

Know what, though, World?  My sister J of the beautiful American name and beautiful Cow nickname, will most likely forevermore be associated with this:

Revenge is mine. Thanks Disney. 

Check in later to read about today's "I" word. It is another embarrassing story from my childhood.  Some of you already know this story but for those of you who do not, I think you might enjoy another hearty laugh at Chicken's expense. 

Today's Chicken song (click on the Chicken crossing the Road) is a Martin Sexton song called "Happy".  Another H word.  JE, I came across this song a few years ago when I was looking for a wedding gift for you and B.  It reminded me of how the two of you might be feeling.  But then I didn't see you for a long time and I kept it.  So I hope you both still feel this way and if you like it, I totally owe you a CD:-)

Saturday Rocks.  Enjoy it.

Chicken out

Thursday, April 8, 2010

C is for Cluck It

I mean Fuck it.

Hi World,

Consider "F" also covered.

D is Delicious and refers to the Utz Salt & Vinegar potato chips I have been eating for the past three days, pretty much non-stop.

E is for elephant, which is what I will be if I keep this up.  Elephants are brainy and graceful, and some can even fly, but they are NOT going to fit in my work suits and somehow I don't think the Bears will appreciate my navy blue stretchy yoga pants regardless of how liberal they are or how convincing my argument that comfort fuels productivity. 

G is for Gracias.  Gracias to you, amigos, for not unfollowing me as I transition through to the next phase.  It has been a bit more challenging than I thought it would be and I've been sort of in a weird, non-blogger fun, place.  And then when I checked in today not only had I not lost a friend (even though Red has been cleaning out all her contact lists) but I had actually gained one.  Hi Lindsey-it is nice to see you up there, Chick:-)

The good news is....I'mmmm baaaaacckkkkk. 

So what have I been doing?  Hmmm.  Well, I went through a phase of drunk emailing to some of the people I used to work with.  It is sort of like drunk dialing, only for people like me who are verbally challenged and prefer to communicate through the written word but only after staying up way too late and consuming multiple glasses of wine.  This behavior is far more dangerous than drunk dialing because you can always deny you said something but the written word is hard to deny when it comes from your email address.  Not that I would ever say anything bad.  I am the overly sentimental sap that wants to reminisce about all the good times we had.  I am the original, "I love you Maaaann", only I wrote it, I didn't say it.  And I was drinking wine, not beer. 

So they shut off my email account and rightly so, and now I've moved on.

To Trueblood.

Now, to truly understand the impact of what I am confessing to, you have to understand that except for littleb's cartoons, which I am forced to view when he is watching because the authorities in charge of deciding who gets to raise their own kids and whose kids get removed from the home generally prefer an adult be present at all times, I have literally not watched television or seen a movie for about six months.  Last fall, however, I did see one episode of Trueblood (I am still not sure how the remote ended up in my hot little hands).  And it didn't make sense to me because I had not ever seen any of the other episodes.  But I vowed before God and all the vampire nation that I would someday view the whole series start to finish.

And that's what I have been doing.  Plus enough laundry to clothe every child in Sweden.  And you know what, Joann?  You are right.  Laundry hurts my feelings, too. 

So now, in addition to my blogging obsession, I have a Sookie obsession. 

I think I might BE Sookie if Sookie were a real person (and 46, not 25).  Let's examine the evidence:

S is for Sookie, and S is for Sue (my alias).  (also, I may just cover the whole alphabet today and get it over with if that is okay with you)

Sookie has a vampire named Bill and Sue has a husband named Bill (who is not a vampire, just want to make that clear because he would totally be upset if he thought I were spreading those kinds of rumors).

Sookie lets Bill bite her neck.  Sue would totally let her Bill bite her neck.  Gently.

Sookie has a stupid brother named Jason.  Sue has five stupid brothers.  Well, not ALL stupid, and not named Jason, so that might be a stretch.

Sookie has a smart ass from childhood best friend named Tara.  Sue has a smartass from childhood best friend named Green Girl (plus a lot of other smart ass friends). 

Sookie works in the hospitality business.  Sue, until the apocalypse, also worked in the hospitality business. 

I think the evidence is pretty clear, people.  The character of Sookie was obviously based on Sue. 

Which leads me to this. 

I have insomnia again.

Because I am afraid. 

Of Vampires.

Not the real vampires that feed on your neck, but all the freakazoids out there that want to BE vampires.  You think Chicken is kidding? I am not kidding.  Mrs. P and I were talking about this last week.  Go on Google and enter "Tooth Sharpening" (Joann, could you please help your friend, there?  Her google disappeared again).

See what I mean?  That is some weird butt guts (that's my new word for shit, which is a word I do not like but sometimes it is the only applicable word.  I stole it from a seven year old named Lola).

My Trueblood obsession is totally different than the "freaks'" obsession.  I know that I am not really Sookie. I know the difference between fantasy and reality. (she states proudly pretending not to notice the snickers in the background.  Shut up GG and former co-workers).

OH.  And did I tell you? I think there is also a Werewolf.  I have to go back and see now.  And fold another load of miserable laundry and get my feelings hurt all over again.  God, what a great vacation.  This beats Niagra Falls any day. 

Take care, Peeps

Chicken out

UPDATE:  So turns out NOT a werewolf but a ShapeShifter.  Ooooh, how sexy is that?