Sigh . Now this is funny.

Livin' the dream...

As many of you know by now, I've been kind of disinherited by my folks. They've kind of informed me that perhaps I might need to suppliment my income with -- a job.


Their suggestions?

Doing yard work. Working in the restaurant. Pool person.

Pool person?
"snert"

I'm unfortunately over qualified for these jobs.

I'm a writer. I've got a friggin' college degree.

I was worried.

Then? I talked to my friend that sells mild mannered milk goats.

I can follow this dream of being a "couch anchor", goat herder. But still there was so much self doubt.

So I talked to my friend the musician..



She's not afraid to follow her dream...

Be strong, Goat Herder Boy. Be strong and follow your dream of writing a successful blog about raising organic happy goats and making artisanal goat cheese for you parent's yuppy foodie friends..."

"The morning sun is shining like..." --




Written @

Diary of Goatherder Boy...

Day one:


Contemplated belly button lint.

Found new species of mold.


Thus sayeth The Goat Herder Boy.

This day 25 April, 2010



Sayeth his long suffering parents?

"It's gonna be a long summer."



Our son.

The one who has his college paid for.

The one who has a plot of land all paid for that will someday be his.

The one who is at this second practicing being a "couch anchor".

Is going to be a goat herder.

No scratch that.

He wants to be a fish wrangler.

That's his diary up there.

I want him to keep a diary of this year.

That's day one.


His father and I are going to be supportive. We're gonna buy hims a 39 dollar tent and put him out on his parcel of land. We're also giving him a sleeping bag, bottled water, ice chest, and a flash light.

Don't worry. He'll also get 20 dollars a week allowance and he's right next door to us.

If he's lucky he'll get to look at the car and can come eat supper with us.

I'm secretly hoping that this really is a phase.

My stomach hurts.

I woke up craving this song...

Uh not exactly.

This morning I woke up from a dream about having sex with someone I'm currently NOT talking to. We've never (incase you're wondering). Could have but didn't. Probably a good idea. Then I laid in bed paralyzed because of this question, "What if I can't anymore? What if the sum total of my sexual experiences were already over?"


Then I craved the song.

"..Bernadette..."

LOL "Rosebud. Rosebud."


Written @

Ooolala...oops?

White jeans before Memorial Day?????

Ooolala yeah.

Now if we can only we get "casual Fridays on the LLShow"



http://www.third-beat.com/?p=1250&cpage=1#comment-1470





Written @

From my late Uncle Edgar...

Not really but I kind of liked the quote...



"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."
~Edgar Allan Poe




And he is a poet.

I guess that relates.


I'm not going to wish ANYONE a happy Earth Day.


(Not as long as these earthquakes keep happening.)



Written @

Poet. Remember.

Agrivating as it maybe, I'm supposed to write every now and again because after all I am a writer. This is one of the things that I do.


When I'm not slacking.

Mr. Music Please

There are trees outside.
For me, they mark time.
Winter branches
Spring flowers
Summer fruit.
Autumn leaves.
Then they fall
And start again
With Winter.



by Author Ann
4/20/10


Or this version.


"...

There are trees outside.
For me they mock the hours.

Like a clock.

Winter branches.
Spring flowers.
Summer fruit.
Autumn leaves.

Tick
Tock

Then they fall.

And start again
With Winter.


Clock
AuthorAnn
4/21/10





Those trees outside.
For me they mark the time.

Winter branches
Spring flowers
Summer fruit.
Summer leaves.
With Autumn they fall
And start again
With Winter.



There's more stuff but you have to click over on the left.

Written @

Happy day!!!

"...Act like you've got some sense..."

Now that's words to live by...

I love my sailboat.
I heart my dogs.

"Now gimme' some sugar. I am your neighbor..."



Written @

Therapy...

All these dreams and my friend's dream analysis has got me thinking.

Dreaming of having sex with men with rattlesnake penises is pretty creative.

Heck, I'm a writer.

I've got a great imagination.

Just think of all the stuff I could make up.

LOL, If I had a therapist? They would not be bored.

Come to think of it neither would I.

Hmmm.

Not to be political but wonder if Obamacare would pay for it?



:)

Written @

I had another dream...

No not about rattle snakes.

This time I dreamed I had sex.

I think I'm gonna tell my friend that I had sex with men who had rattlesnake penises.

Can't wait to hear what they have to say about it.




Written @

Dream lover...

A while back I dreamed about rattle snakes.

As soon as I woke up, I told someone about it.

Later they told me that it mean I had "...unresolved issues...".

I told them that it was spring and I had "...rattle snakes in heat..." issues.

(Where we live the rattlesnakes are emerging from their dens. They're sleepy, hungry, horney, and basically pizzed. You see rattlesnakes crossing the road all the time. I have yard work to do. Nothing unresolved about it.)

My friend insisted that I was wrong and that my subconscious was trying to tell me something.

I thought about it and started to tell them, "Why yes, you are correct. Everynight as I go to sleep watching Craig Ferguson and his rattlesnake mug my subconscious is in an epic battle of desire. Now shut up and lets go get coffee."

Then I thought about it some more and invited them to run barefoot through my back yard.

:D

Written @

I heart Izzy...

Izzy is a farty dog.

Izzy is a farty dog.

LOL I can't help it. It's funny.

She doesn't fart like a fog horn.

She poofs like the tiny little lady dog.

Then she looks up at me like she's saying,

"They that smelt it dealt it."


LOL

Written @

Dear Craig,

My dog Izzy is farty.

I wrote to Craig Ferguson for help and advice about this because his own dog is farty. Well and it would cost me 90 bucks to have the vet tell me, "Yes, your dog is farty."

Wonder if he'll write back?

Craig not his farty dog.

Eureka

As you read in the last post, I'm in a real pickle.

On the one hand I want a Twitter account and on the other hand I don't want to tell folks my birthday.

Then it came to me.

If Conan O'Brien could get his squirrel a Twitter account, I could get one for my dog Izzy.

Hurray.

Problem solved and no longer bored.


Written @

I'm bored ...

... and conflicted.

You see I want to get a Twitter account but I don't want to tell my real birthday.

What do I do?

Do I make stuff up?

OR

Do I tell the truth and risk being hacked.

This is a really difficult decision.

On the one hand I don't want to lie to people

but on the other hand I really want a Twitter account.

Does it count as a lie if your first tweet is.

"Dear Twitter, That's not my real birthday. I made it up. Love, Conflicted"

I'm not trying to deceive anyone and I would be telling them the truth.

Besides they just want to know if I'm 12 or not.

Which I'm not.

Lemmie think.

Hmm

Good news. I'm not bored.


Written @

I'm bored.

Remember how I wrote I was bored?

Used to be when I got bored that I'd write.

Not today.

Today I'm listening to Peter and the Wolf.

It's writen by some Russian guy named Prokofiev.

Dum dum dah dum dah dah dum dum dah dah dah -

Seriously, it's pretty good.

Now I'm bored with a better sound track.

I'm bored.

This helps...

http://12dotsandablot.blogspot.com/2010/03/113500-am-freud-vs-dog-whisperer.html


So does this...

http://www.thedoghousediaries.com/?p=334

It's a wonderful world...

Funny but lately my personal life has been really, really good.

For a loooongg time my life was boring.
Really boring.
My love live didn't exist.

All I did was study, work, and basically try not to get eatten by the "TRexes" in my life. No one wanted to know who I was.

It was really sad.

Then one day a miracle happened. I got a blog and a whole lot of people paid attention. My love life improved drastically. Lots of people wanted to know me.

Unfortunately.

So if someone wants to know if it's better to be rich or be famous?

Go for the rich.

The famous is just too much work.

Former Slacker.



Posted @

"I guess it is in the water..."

When you walk into the Montgomery Museum of Art, not too far up the road from Pink Lily, you will see magic set free. There is Mr. Lucas. Well not actually Mr. Lucas but his self and his stories made from the bits and pieces of everyday life. The car part. The end of a hoe. Something from a tractor. Long strips of steel bent and shaped into the pieces of a story.

This book is his story.

A beautiful and informative book. Comprehensive look at the work of Charlie Lucas, sculptor. Pink Lily, Alabama.



Tin Man

by Charlie Lucas, Ben Windham, Chip Cooper, and Georgine Clarke

Holy cow NOW I get it

This is why I love to watch tv's Craig Ferguson.

Last night's guests were both authors.

From The Day I Shot Cupid. Hello my name is Jennifer Love Hewitt And I'm a Love aholic"

page 18.

"...So be strong, have personal power - good God, roar if you have to! But a couple of nights a week try letting it be all about your undergarment and on top put a dress, perfume, some sparkle powder, and a little willingness to let him lead."

To Mr. Neville's book, "Ghosts of Belfast"

pg 1

"Maybe if he had one more drink they'd leave him alone. Gerry Fegan told himself that lie before every swallow...."

I'm thinking that the only thing missing was the skit where the Ghost Whisper character is at the bar with the fictional Mr. Fegan and she sees those 12 Ghosts of Belfast as well. "I see dead people too so stop yer drinkin' Mr. Fegan." she would say. She could have interceeded for Mr Fegan, done alittle Freudian psycho analysis, and sent those 12 ghosts packing without all that extra drama. Afterwards the real Ms. Hewitt and Mr. Neville could have gone out to a pub both in sparkly powder and really good shoes. As a matter of fact, if Mr. Neville didn't already have a girl friend? I'd think this would make a most interesting couple.

Sigh, I really love to watch this show. It's getting better and better in the irony department. Or maybe in the parody department. Which ever it is it's not boring.


Writen @