Monday, February 28, 2011

~So It Was: Yesterday

Here is the weird and random round up from yesterday:
  • While on our way to dinner, I spied a vanity plate on the freeway. It said, "LADDY DI". Hummmmm.... knowing what happened to her in a car, personally, I wouldn't put that on my vehicle. Seems like you're just beggin' for a bad outcome, but ya know who I'm in charge of?  Barely me. Good luck central Ohio Dianna.
  • I watched a bit of the Ocars.  I know I was supposed to be paying attention to nominees, winners, and of course, pretty dresses, but I found myself wondering how Kirk Douglas's ear lobes were so crazy ass looooooong?  If'n ya missed it, see for yourself.

(I was mesmerized, no, hipmotized.)

  • I got to wear flops outside yesterday.  People!!  It's the end of February.  In Ohio.  (Thank you Mother Nature for the gift of such a warm and sunny day.)
  • It lightning and thundered overnight.  People!! It's the end of February.  In Ohio. 
  • As consequence of lightning and thunder, Uncle John wedged himself, not just on the bed, but under the sheets.  I know, I know, poor chicken shit Uncle John.  Double D doesn't exactly fancy having a d oh double g in the bed, so it was all I could do to stifle my laughter as after a post midnight tinkle, I returned to find Uncle John snuggled up to Double D's back/shoulder as he (none the wiser) communed with the Sandman.  Super cute.  Super hysterical.
  • In eeeeewww news, while watching a show called 'Sandwich Paradise' on the Travel Channel, what?  Isn't that what lazy Sundays are made for watchin'?!?  One of the sandwiches highlighted was gross to me but caught Double D's attention.  After mentioning that we had all of the ingredients needed, we quickly found ourselves in the kitchen making a grilled peanut butter, banana, bacon and honey sammie.  He said it was awesome.
  • I sat amazed as one of Double D's pals bitched and moaned and explained about how frustrating it is dealing with people at his call center job.  ...Yep, cause a policeman woudn't have any idea about how trippy and kooky dealin' with people is. 
...Well, new week, here we go...


Wednesday, February 23, 2011

~It's A New Food Review

I spied this in the grocery a few weeks back:

I didn't know this even existed as a snacking option.  I've always wanted to try one of these pie pocket dealies, but my aversion to apple, cherry, blueberry, etc., gelatinous goo has held me back. 

But puddin'?  Chocolate puddin?!?  Hellz yeah. 

I was hoping to find a tasty, flaky crusted treat.  In all honesty, I didn't love it.  But another sumthin' new to add to my list.

...And because this song was on my mind (for no apparent reason):


Tuesday, February 22, 2011

~Opps I Did It Again

...And so didn't they.

As you know from my lil' bio blurb, I am a blood giver.  It just seems like the thing to do.  I have something that I can do without and make more with zero effort, why wouldn't I share that so that someones life might be saved?   It takes a half hour.  And they give you cookies.

I didn't go to medical school, soooooooo it's probably the only way I'll ever be able to save a life.  Although, I'd like to think that maybe I already have, thanks to a passerby who collapsed on the sidewalk in front of my job a million years ago, who I tended to until EMTs arrived.  Because he was a random guy walking downtown on his way to work, I never knew what happened to him, but, ya know, I'm an optimist...  And a digressor.

So I construct my day to include the ability to swing by the local Red Cross and drop a pint.  I can't be constricted by an appointment so I'm a walk in, but I've never made an appointment and it's still usually a pretty quick process.  This day was no different.

In fact, all was going gangbusters.  I was on pace for a 8 minute pint. 

Then things took a less than super turn.  The following nearly half hour involved me helping do things like; untaping tubing to lend an extra hand to the situation, numerous movements of the needle plunged into my vein, tubing being taken off by the blood professional and me raising my arm and grabbing a 4x4 to sop up the blood oozing at my wrist.  Then another blood taker stepping in to try to help get the test vials filled, which is about the time the vein in that arm decided it had had enough monkeying around and just said no.  Because they have to test all pints before they can be put in the hopper to be used by in need, they either had to stick the other arm to fill the test tubes or toss the whole donation. So now I'm being stuck in the other arm.  The blood takers expressed their appreciation for my help and understanding. 

And now running late for the rest of my schedule.  Which included picking up my Mom downtown.  Errrrrgh.

When I finally stopped impersonating a human pin cushion I got the what for by the elderly lady who oversees the snack area.  "Sit down.  What do you want to drink?"  (standing) "Oh, I'll have a bottled water.  Thank you." SAL (Snack Area Lady) did not take too kindly when I said I needed to get going and didn't have time to sit. 

I'm in the 10 gallon club, it's not my first day at the rodeo, and I know how I feel.  I'm attuned to my body.  I felt a-ok, 100% perfectly fine.  This, however, does not keep the SAL from once again and in a more terse tone attempting to get me to sit the fuck down.  In what I saw as a compromise, I took a bottle of H2O and a pack o' Lorna Doone's (not to be confused with my friend code name, Lorna Doone Octaroon, who is in fact, coincidentally, also a good cookie), and walked on out the door.

How I ever made it in a timely manner to collect my Mom, I'll never know.  Wait.  Speeding, that's how. 

Fortunately, no major bruising, and I otherwise, as normal, continued to be fine.  I have been told I have problematic veins.  The last time I was in the hospital my evidently, weird ass veins stymied the two person "A Team" of stickers (who are obviously supposed to be the creme de la creme of  vein pokers in the whole damn hospital) for a good 30+ minutes as they both alternated attempts to replace an IV.  But on the other hand I've had a good number of other people who've gotten me on the first stick, so I don't know...  I do know this--  not everybody is ok with the thought of having to be poked twice.  Or multiple times.  Or in both arms. 

Dear Red Cross,
You've got to do better.   Your entire business model, in terms of blood products is based on donations.  People outta the goodness of their hearts taking time out of their days to give you something.  Not everybody is gonna be ok, with *this* being their experience.  Be nice and polite.  Be proficient at your task.  Hire people who are good at taking blood, not just qualified to do it.  Please don't make it an unpleasant experience for the people you rely on to conduct your business.  Honestly, this is the third unfortunate experience I've had with you.  I'll continue to return, because I honestly do try to be a good person and do the right things in life, (I know this is shocking news) but let's face it, not everyone would continue to walk through your doors. 

P.S.  See you in 6 weeks.  We'll try this again.


Thursday, February 17, 2011

~I'm Sorry? Who's An Idiot?!?

Behold the hub and bub our Governor has brought on himself:

Needless to say,  as the daughter of two officers, and the girl of my very own badge carryin' Double D, I didn't take too kindly to Governor Kasich's comments. 

Now before I got all judge-y,  I took a peek at the dash cam video of the CPD stop of Governor Kasich:

As you can see, the white car in the #3 lane (the lane closest to the right berm) does appear to have ample opportunity and spacing of lane #2 traffic to have yielded (or slowed, which you also don't see him hit his breaks), as required by Ohio law when coming upon a safety vehicle (po-po, fire, tow truck, etc.) pulled to the side in service. 
I love Governor Kasich's excuse of, 'I didn't see him'.  Let's see...lying (or being recklessly unaware of your surroundings while operating a motor vehicle and/or the law) and calling out a Police Officer who puts his life on the line each shift as an "idiot" for, ya know, upholding the laws of our state.  Excellent week Mr. Kasich.  Your parents must be proud.
And I am left to award you the Dick O' The Day.  Congratulations.

A friend, and better person than I am, crafted this, what I found to be superb letter.  She's an author, so notice how she skillfully manages to not use the word, "dick" as she lets her feelings be known;

Dear Mr. Kasich,
I'm having a hard time writing this letter because I was raised to not say anything at all if I can't say anything nice. My blood is boiling but I'll try to be professional about this--even though you don't exercise the same restraint.

I'm sickened by your attitude toward police officers. An attitude I'm sure you put aside when you have to call 911 and actually need them for something. Or want an endorsement from the FOP.

People (and this includes you, Mr. Kasich) want a society ruled by laws, yet when those laws must be enforced, you get angry. I don't get it. Doesn't being governor mean you are part of the judicial system? And yet you denegrate the very system you were elected to uphold.

The police officer was doing his job. You were not following the law. Sounds cut and dried to me. Follow the law, Mr. Kasich, and stuff like this won't happen. That's what I tell my kids. If you just follow the rules, life is easier. I guess you haven't grown up enough to realize that yet. Or maybe you have but find yourself above the law?

Remember Deputy Sheriff Suzanne Hopper and the dozens of other officers who walked into the line of fire this year alone and paid the ultimate price to keep people like you safe. What a slap in the face to their memory.

I hear you are going to apologize. You're three years too late, Mr. Kasich. It means nothing--the damage has been done. If I were that officer, I wouldn't accept your apology but he probably will because he's a better person than me. And a much better person than you.

I am a life-long Republican and I voted for you. I won't be making that mistake again. Fool me once, Mr. Kasich.

Sharon Cullen
wife of a Police Officer

Because I like to balance out the yin and yang, my absolute kudos to some young cat called, Davante' Goins (who, although I loathe his name, that's my bone to pick with his parents).  Young Mr. Goins is a local 15 year old on a mission that I whole heartidly endorse.  God bless him, his spirit and his commitment to our service men and women.   Check him out:

If you too find yourself moved by this teen patriot, his website is:
Davante' Goins, Gold Star!  Unlike our Governor, you are an Ohioan that makes me proud.


Wednesday, February 16, 2011

~In Best Fortune Cookie Ever News:

True 'dat.


Monday, February 14, 2011

~Cherubs With Weapons Day

I'm wishy-washy about this (clears throat) "holiday".    Like, seemingly all holidays these days, the focus seems to have been overtaken by commerce and marketing.  Roses, chocolate, cards, jewelery...ugh.  I've seen a gazillion commercials for such items, that they position as the quintessential token(s) of love. 

Don't get me wrong, I like a present as much as the next person.  Maybe more?  ...But I really want a present because you were thinking of me and wanted to, not because some big corporations bought advertising insinuating ya have to and that you're a bad beau if you don't do some grand display.  I call bullshit.

Great, if ya wanna be extra nice to your s.o. on Valentine's Day, but to me, it's much more important how you're treatin' me the other 364.  My favorite love tokens are when I feel the sheet getting tucked under my shoulder as I sleep so that I don't get chilled.  And when my hand never reaches a door before his does to open it for me.  And the other things I'm given each day that tell me I'm loved.  There isn't a material present in the world that could be more valued by me. 

VD:  Enjoy it!


Tuesday, February 8, 2011

~Names: Come On People

Dear People of the universe and readers of the BBGW,
I implore you, nay, I beg of you, please stop makin' fuckin' names up for your offspring.

Some countries around the globe actually have sanctioned and approved names for newborns.  They don't put up with naming shenanigans and cracked out creativity.  While usually I'm not one for other than self imposed censorship, I gotta admit, they may be on to something.

This past Super Bowl morning (aka: Monday), I read an article about Super Bowl champs Green Bay, that included mention of some cat on the team called, Jermichael Finley.  Really?  Jerrrrrrrrmichael?  (clears throat)  What the fuck? 

Imagine the poor teachers over a twelve (+?) year period reading over their class roster, only to encounter a Jermichael?...Kelly, spelled with six E's, an I and a Q?...Or lil' Elvis Von Tinklemiester? 

It makes me think of Jermajesty, a ridiculously named child of Jermaine Jackson (the Jackson 5 for you youngin's who've stumbled into 'da World).    Which makes me think:  craaaaazy.  The upswing is that Jermajesty, probably never has to have a real resume, out there in the real world.  ...And that most people expect crazy outta that family.

Plus, in the celebrity/pseudo celebrity world, weird is de rigueur.  Again, their parents have enough money that the first impression by teachers, hiring managers, et al, isn't all that important.  They'll probably be fine.

In real world, among normal circles, being strapped with some crazy assed name causes nuthin' but problems...

  • Do you have any idea of how much smarter, how much of a better impression you have to make to get somewhere when you're up against a Mary, or Tom your child will have to be in life?  Answer:  Exponentially x a factor of 13. 

  • Do you like to repeat yourself?  Then how much do you think your child will enjoy continually correcting pronunciation (just so we're clear, pronunciation is a thing, not a potential name), repeating and spelling their name as their reply is met with A) giggles.  2) guffaws.  III) eye rolls.  ...Why?  Why would you set them up like that?!?

  • Probable inclusion on a government watch list.  See...even the government suspects your weirdly named child is the trouble makin', potentially dangerous, sketchy sort.  What makes you think the school admissions director, resume weeder outer, or potential mate will react differently?
Listen, unique isn't necessarily a synonym (...again, I feel the need to point out this is not an alternate spelling for Cinnamon, which is only a spice and really should not be a name option, unless your dream for your daughter is to be a stripper.  Apologies for offending the girl named Cinnamon who doesn't actually work the pole, and all other named strippers.) for 'good'.   Sure, it's nice not to be the 13th Britney/Brittany/Britknee/Britnay/Brit'Naee in the class, but being Duchess Williams (----BBG made up name, but all of the sudden I feel the need to say, sorry Duchess Williams just Googled her name and wound up here.) is just not the answer.

On a side note, please, please consider all mockery options associated with the name you choose.  I am a gifted renamer, many a parent/friend has benefited from my name mockery skillz and avoided an unfortunate naming.  It comes naturally to me, but for you "nice people" you'll require a bit of practice, so no rash decisions until you have mastered this 5 step process. Your offspring will thank you.

Don't give your child a crazy ass name:
  1. To work on this skill just think of the worst person you know
  2. Imagine what you would come up with in terms of ridicule if their name was (insert full name you are considering).  
  3. Repeat using all variations of all curses, bad words, euphemisms and innuendo you know.
  4. Ask a particularly catty or dickish friend for their best plays off this name.
  5. If your results yield any doubt, DO NOT choose this name.

My personal pet peeve?  I am anti gender neutral names; Dana for example.  If I have to call a Dana, well, I have no fuckin' idea whether I'm ringing up a boy or girl.  Bugs me.  (Especially when I get a computer generated voicemail greeting and I have no idea which pronoun to use, which is about exactly when I hang up.)  For some reason, Morgans, Logans and the like don't bother me.  But Dana for a boy or girl.  Nope.  I'm also against boys being named Leslie.  These are just my quirks and not necessarily a universal mindset that's out there.

I, do however like theme names.  A big fan, in fact.  Double D and his siblings are all named after saints.  I say, super.  I admire the Catholic-ness of it all.    I like when all members of a family share the same first initial too.  I also like a duplicate initial, a la how Double D got his code name, (not as many of you dirty minded peeps might have thought, which is boobs.  Fine.  It's a little because of boobs, but mostly because of his initials.)  I even like alpha sequential names.  I  suggested to one of my friends that she name thier 2nd child an M name because the other family members accounted for J, K, & L.  But I must say, I kinda draw the line at 'trying to be punny' names.  An example of a punny name?  Boy/girl twins, the Lear twins, King and Shanda.  (blows fake whistle)  Foul!  (makes the appropriate referee corresponding hand gesture)

I can do no more.  I think I've presented a pretty comprehensive case for picking an established, sanctioned, normal name rather than making things up.   Pick an unpopular name, which doesn't mean bad, just not...well, Brit'Naee (sorry all B girls.  I don't hate your name, I just don't like that there are seemingly sooooooo fuckin' many of yous.  It's outta control.).  There are tons and scads of currently out of vogue (again, not a bad thing), perfectly wonderful and spectacular names.  Pick one.  Spell it the traditional way.  You're welcome.
BB(normal, but not trendy, nor particularly old school named)G 


Friday, February 4, 2011

~She's Down

"She's down!!!", is a phrase that has been uttered by many- too damn many of my friends.  Why?  Good question.  As far as I can ascertain, the answer to that Scooby Doo mystery is a hazy combination of clumsiness, poor luck and/or karma.  Oh, and less likely, but still a possibility, that the world is actually conspiring to kill me.

It was first used, in a semi tipsy slurring, by one of my teenaged pals as I was observed slipping on snow/ice and crash, boom, bangin' into the bumper of one of our crews parents' cars.  I immediately found it funny, which is how I found out how much I'd injured my ribs.  (P.S.  Laughter isn't always the best medicine.  It is apparently a pretty effective triage technique.  You're welcome health care providers everywhere.)

Last night Double D and I were out doin' some stuff, errands, dinner, etc., in an adjacent suburb where I needed to drop sumthin' off.  I hop outta the car and notice how icy the walkway is and as I set off said, "I'm gonna die."  So I'm fuckin' being careful from go.  I make it up the two concrete stairs, put the item in the door and as I'm turning to descend the steps of death, putting my mittened hands against the siding to steady myself, I fall the fuck down. 

Now I'm sprawled out, half in a shrub of some sort or the fuckin' prickly/scratchy/pokey other, instantaneously assessing my injuries.  Oh, yeah, on some cold ass, soppy ice which is, quicker than one might think, soaking through my jeans.  Uh huh. 

The look on Double D's face I spied as the dome light came on and he whipped the door open comin' after me was complete shock and awe. 

As I tried to get my stunned, yet not entirely surprised self up all I could think was, "she's down!!"

Double D, "she's down"..."She's down", Double D.  (fictitious hand shaking here)  This may have been the first, but it probably won't be the last time you meet. 

File under:  It coulda been worse.  Thankfully, my tumble only resulted in a sore pinky finger, wrist, elbow and ass/hip area, which isn't so bad when I'm standing, (sooooooo now you know why I'm cuttin' this I'm sittin' here typin' short.  Well, short by BBGW standards.)  ...At least I'm standing and not in some hospital bed in a coma, paralyzed from conking my head and breaking L3.  (Overly active imagination?  Why do you ask?)  This morning when Double D and I said goodbye for the day he asked after my status,  I told him that spill would have killed a thin girl but that I was makin' it through.  Yes that's right, bein' chunky saved my life!   (Suck it Surgeon General.) 


Was I just thankful for bein' a fat ass?!? 

Outstanding.  ...Only in America, people.  Only in America.

If'n you're in the snow-y/icy area of the nation:  Stay upright!

If'n you're in Dallas, I've been watching your weather and I'd like to be the first to say:  Welcome to Ohio!

BBG down and out...


Thursday, February 3, 2011

~Funnin' With Facebook

Sometimes I think I should try to be less me.  Me Lite, if you will.  Full on, hard core meeeeee, for plenty of people, is just too the fuck much.  I know I'm a handfull.  The world is probably a better place with me on 'good behavior' (...yes, I am capable of restraint and being good.  Suck it!).  Me free probably causes too much ruckus.  However, the reality is that being good me is hard work and can not be sustained for extended periods of time. 

Thus, the following tale is not a display of me being on self imposed restriction...

When I was five?  6ish?  I regularly walked home from my elementary school with another classmate.  His name was First name Last name.  --Even I'm not a big enough bitch to actually call out someone on the interweb for all of time and continuum, for something they did when they were still letting glue dry on their palms only to peel it off and dig on the grooves (aka: palm print), mastering shoe tying and eating sammies with the crust cut off.   However, in full disclosure, when I tell the story in real life, I do use his full Christian name.  Ima big fan of using the entirety of someones name, but that's a wackadoo rant for a different day kids. 

Also, in full disclosure, when I tell the story it sounds a lot like, "and muther fuckin' First name Last name kicked me in the fuckin' eye."  (Sorry, First name Last name.)

How often does this story come up? 

Well, early last fall Double D and I took a field trip to my home town.  Drivin' around seeing the, er, highlights.  Ya know, the two houses I grew up in, the best pizza in the city, schools I attended- which is exactly what we were doing when we rolled up to a stop sign.  I stopped, as required by law, and motioned for him to look at a particular corner and said, "right there, that's where muther fuckin' First name Last name kicked me in the fuckin' eye as I bent down to tie my shoe" as I gestured at my right orbital region.

Flash forward several weeks?  months? later when one of my friends (and Facebook friend), a guy who I've known since high school, DJP (who I also went to summer school with-- thanks algebra!! and college with), as the Facebook news feed told me, friended a guy named First name Last name.  

Being the noisy sort, coupled with the fact that DJP has seen some BBGness in action over the years, I had no compunction about sending a random email asking the following

BBG:  Is your First name Last name a brown First name Last name? Report back and I'll tell ya why. It's ridiculous, as you can well imagine.

DJP:  you're right... it is super fucking ridiculous as i did imagine, he is a brown First name Last name but i wouldn't rule out a white First name Last name out there in there world either...but in this instance...that right.

Once my super sleuthing was done, I shared with the esteemed DJP that his new Facebook friend had kicked me in the fuckin' eye when we were kindergartners.  (Again, you're welcome, First name Last name!)

So I've found myself having some sleep difficulties of late.  Going to sleep fine, but then waking up 20 minutes, or two hours later and being wide the fuck awake.  I know.  Boo, right?  So being awake, and without supervision, as both Double D and Uncle John were communing with the Sandman, I found myself left to my own devices and on Facebook.  

I then, quickly found myself hitting send at the conclusion of one cracked out and random email to First name Last name. 


(...If I could help it don't you think I would?!?)

To:  First name Last name
Subject:  I just want you to know...

I can still remember you kickin' me in the damn eye at the corner near Mrs. Knisley's house, as I bent down to tie my shoe on our walk home from (elementary school name). Yeah, that's right we were 6 and I'm still holding a grudge!!! (kidding) No worries if you don't remember me, it was, after all, a loooooooong ass time ago.

I was in (hometown) over the fall, showing my guy around town, where I grew up, schools, etc., blah, blah, blah, and as we were driving towards (elementary school name) I looked over at that corner and told him about "First name Last name kicked me in the eye right there"...your welcome!! Yes, now he wants to kick your ass. Nooooooo. I AM TOTALLY MAKING THAT LAST PART UP. Anyhoo, hope the past 35?ish years have treated you well.

Low and behold, I received a reply.  A non, 'who the fuck are you, crazy ass lady?', reply.  

First name Last name:
Wow I was just talking about you at work how could I not forget you. Hell I remember when you lived on (one 1/2 of my porn name, you know the 1st street I grew up on). How have you been?

Thank you Facebook for putting me in touch with someone I haven't seen since the 4th grade!  Thank you DJP for always, never questioningly participating in my random reindeer games.  Thank you First name Last name for overcoming your youngin' sketchy behavior and apparently growing into a cool ass dude. 

Like I say, I know I should try to be good more often, but daaaaamn, being free me makes for much better stories. "better" I clearly mean weirder. 

Peace out peeps.


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