Stunned Muppet

DeLay's picture on AOL's main page looks like he is a stunned muppet. However, if you visit MSN, you get this juicy serial killer look alike pic:



You sanctimonious bastard. I hope you suffer.

Update: AOL removed the muppet picture so I'm displaying it here.


Evilness abounds in his head.

The Twitchy Bitchy

Seven days. That's how long my right eyelid has been spasmodically jerking like a tripped out teenager at a rave.

At first, I figured multiple strobe lights from multiple concerts caused eye damage -or a part-time brain tumor - and the trembling would subside.

Then -
Could it be the stress of bombing my Financial Accounting exam? I need to relax and forget the number hell of FIFO, LIFO and t-charts. Last night, I decided to get liquored up. Pure genius only I'm still spasming. And, as an added bonus, I now have a hangover and a freaky rash across my face caused by puking so hard that I broke my blood vessels. I am the beacon of sexiness right now. I'm sure today's clients thought they were dealing with the cast-aside bride of Frankenstein. I've always been vain, just not veiny.

Time to a visit to the only doctor I trust: WebMD. What causes an eye to twitch? The first search revealed one of two possible options. I'm either epileptic or can exhibit the traits of REM sleep while wide awake. While I love WebMD because it doesn't make me weigh-in when I come into the office, I often leave feeling like my problem, however minute, will lead to death sometime within the next 2 minutes.

Any suggestions? I remain all a-quiver in anticipation.

Post 100

I could reflect on the fact that I have posted 100 things on this blogspot, but I'm not going to.

Dear Drunk Asshole in Row 7,

First let me say, that I am so very happy that you live for Oasis. Your girly screams, the fact that all you could do is pump your arm and point at the band and your less-than-coordinated booty shakin' all served to back up that point. I'm glad you told your friends at the top of your lungs that "this" - the concert - was the "meaning of your life" and "it" for you.

My only complaint was that you kept sticking your smelly beer hands right next to my head, and that you were so very drunk that you hit me several times over the course of the evening. Just as an FYI to you, when I raised my fist in response to "Don't Look Back in Anger," I was celebrating the song and taking the opportunity to pop you back to your row.

I can tell you honestly that if you had hit me one more time, you wouldn't have known what hit you. Next time you go to a concert, don't be such a drunk dick. I'd hate it if you had your teeth broken by someone less tolerant than me.

Hope your hangover hurts like a motherfucker and that you are hugging your toilet bowl this morning.

Love and Kisses,
Roxy

And just WHERE were you while we were getting high?

Last night's Oasis concert prompted that ever-important question.

As Kevin and I sang at the top of our lungs (6 rows back, center, close enough to feel the sweat from Jet and the brothers Gallagher - or was it the beer shower from the asshole behind us?), I thought of the Champagne Supernova that was my senior year in college.

I had to ask. On the way home from the concert, I took a look at my young hubby.

"So, honey, where were you while I was getting high?"
"When was that?"
"College mostly - probably 1996?"
"I was in the boy scouts."

Damn.

This is the pain of marrying someone 7 years your junior.

While I was baked out at the K-Sig Toga party (fully commando under my sheet - Amy laughing at me), my hubby was building forts out of mud at Camp Cuchiyonga or some such place.

Bet he didn't even have enough sense back then to eat the camp's shrooms.

It just dawned on me...

I've got some posts a-brewin' in my feeble noggin, but it just dawned on me that I've never posted pictures of Elvis - the other namesake of this blog. So, without further ado, our pooch:

Here he is in his puppy Argyle sweater. It was cold in Virginia where we used to be and he was skinny when I first got him - cut me some slack for dressing my dog.


See? Snow.


And then, nap:


And with his first friend, Bartleby:


I'll see if I can find the picture of him peeing on the World's Largest Ball of Twine. And when the goats chased him at the site of the World's Largest Gopher. Yes, we are lame.

torrid tête - à - tête

You grow slowly, prominently, until you are long and pronounced. Winding your way up so that all I can see is you. I close my eyes, envision your shape, your twist. I want to pull, push - do everything in my power to dominate you and be in control. But you are controlling me - you amaranthine beast. You make me think of all that is me - about life, time and mortality. And I'm haunted, hunted and no longer unassailable. Pluck you, my single gray hair. Pluck. You.

Tori Tonight!

This is the start of our big concert weekend. Tori Amos tonight, Oasis and Jet on Sunday evening and Nine Inch Nails on Monday.

Between concerts and classes every night, sleep deprivation is bound to set in soon. Being the insomniac that I am, I don't mind too much.

El Grito

In a previous life, I must have been Mexican. Not Spanish, not Latin American - Mexican. It is the only way I can explain my affinity for the music, El Dia de los Muertos, the dancing, the colorful fiestas, the ceremonial culture, the literature, the languages, the FOOD of glorious Mexico.

Today, the university is celebrating the day of Mexican Independence (a day early because of school schedules). There are booths honoring the Olmec, the Teotihuacan, the Mayan, Toltec, the Aztec empires. Costumes from ceremonies in Hidalgo, Jalisco, Sonora, Chihuahua, Nayarit are ribbons and blooms, lovingly displayed. The music - a blend of guitarros and and brass - fills the courtyard. The struggle for independencia is storyboarded. And the long line of antojitos are enticing even the strictest of dieters.

The thing I like the most is that Mexcian culture tends to celebrate life. Familia, religion, food, amor - all are weaved into the daily tapestry. The idea that la vida is glorious. We should all celebrate life as much.

Sitting in the courtyard, admiring the groups of people talking and laughing, I feel warm, relaxed, happy and home.

Roxy's World

Roxy will resume posting when she has had some time to sort out her priorities, get out of her funk, and when she thinks she actually has something to share that isn't trite or regurgitated.

Best Friends

My Aunt is fine. She is one of the lucky ones. Her house isn't broken tinder, isn't flooded. She isn't in personal danger like so many others in New Orleans - not sick, not raped, not murdered, not hurt.

She is leading the way, helping disaster recovery for her company's employees in an office in Lafayette.

I hope and pray and wish for safety and healing for those living in that nightmare.

Tonight, there will be a telethon on NBC to raise funds for the victims of Katrina. Watch, call and donate if you can. Some other relief (& relief tips): katrina housing, list of places to donate and The BBB Give Organiaztion.


And to my best friends who inquired and offered assistance without hesitation - thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are the reason that there is hope in the aftermath.