The Times They Are A Changin'

Not only do we have a women, an African American and an old guy running for president, but for the first time a rock musician was awarded an honorary Pulitzer. The prize went to Bob Dylan for his "profound impact on popular music and American culture."


Congratulations Bob!

But back to the old guy running for president. Seems like a decent fellow, but I do have a few issues with John McCain:



First, he is (as mentioned) OLD. I've got nothing against old people--my husband is old-- it's just that I'm NOT OLD and I already have too many senior moments. So what will happen when President McCain does something like walk into room where a peace summit is taking place and forgets what he went in there for?

The second reason I have reservations about McCain is: HE'S NOT FOR PEACE!

I could go on, but Hamell on Trial (composer of Songs For Parents Who Do Drugs) sings it so much better: This is called Strolling in Bagdad.

Really, Really Hard Not to be Pornographic

Attention Folks: This blog is about my fantasy life. Mine. No matter what the title might imply, they’re all mine.

It’s true I’ve posted a photo of a mistress, wrote a poem about orgasm fakers, included a video about Mayor Kilpatrick’s sexual/textual issues, and used the phrase “cleavage down to their navels” to describe a show my 10-year old was watching. But seriously people, John Cusack - how much more white bread can a fantasy be?

You see, in a desperate effort to build a readership, I’ve joined Link Referral—a site that allows other bloggers to review your site. And frankly, it’s validating to get an email each morning, ‘your site has been reviewed!’

But so far, the only reviewers have been: Bad Lad, 1 Joke a Day, Web Programming, and Bulgaria681. In the comment box where one is supposed to critique the blog, Bulgaria681 copied and pasted my very own blog description. So not only are these guys NOT visiting my site to read about my crazed and confused existence, some of them don’t even do English.

If only that other b-tch wouldn’t have beaten me to it, I could be the Suburban Subversive right this very minute (scroll down, newbies, scroll down).

I mean, it’s not like I asked for this kind of attention, is it?

It’s true that I titled a posting “Hard Not to be Pornographic.” And I did include a link to a female goth burlesque metal band performing in Victoria’s Secret-like apparel.

And then there was that link to Sara Silverman’s video ‘I’m F-ing Matt Damon.'

Maybe that’s why Goggle posted that brief ad for ‘real cheating housewives.’

Hmm.

Never mind.

But anyway, friends, you, yes, YOU can help generate some varied interest in my blog by commenting. Just click on the blue comment link below and go to it.

Yes, you PJ, Tracy, Andy...I mean RANDY, you Barb, Jill, Wendy, KRIS (with a blog debut on the horizon), Lisa, LISA again, another Lesa, Susan, the two Ros, Linda, Brian (yes, you, Fox), Gloey, AMY, Theresa L (no, not you, the other Theresa L) Emily, Mona, Mary B, MARY LEE, Andrea, (by the way, how's Phil?) Joanie, Jaquie, Cooper, and Carolyn--CAROLYN are you out there?

It's easy. It's free. And LISA, it's another way to 'stick it to the man' at work.

And just to show the Prefers Her Fantasy Life voyeurs I'm a good sport, I'm posting the photo of Governor Spitzer's mistress again.



Enjoy! And don't forget to comment.

To Know Lloyd Dobler is to Love Lloyd Dobler

After my reference to Lloyd Dobler in my previous posting, I now realize that some of you out there in the blogosphere may not know who he is. In the interest of becoming culturally literate, you really need to check out this clip. I mean, they don't make finger puppets of just anybody, you know.



And for those of you who really have no idea why my Lloyd Dobler finger puppet is holding a boom box, check out this iconic clip.

Gift Giving Impairment

As you may have noted in my previous posting, my Spousal Unit didn’t do anything for my birthday. Now I know from reading enough women’s magazines that you’re not supposed to complain about such things, but really—couldn’t I have married someone who wasn’t missing the gift-giving gene?

You’d think I’d be used to it.

One year I sent him out to get a present for my dad. I knew it was a roll of the dice, but I was prepared to be gracious. Until he came home with a football.

A football, for my dad? I asked in that non-blaming, none tonal voice the magazines suggest.

Yeah, I thought he might enjoy tossing it around a bit.

Well maybe. But, um…my dad doesn’t even go outside.

He might get into it.

OK. But I’m just wondering…did you think of the fact that my dad is, like…old?

He’s not that old.

Well, maybe 72 isn’t that old. But won’t he have a hard time playing having limited eyesight?

He can see out of one eye, he snapped.

OK. That’s true. But it might be difficult for him to throw the ball with his fingers all gnarled from the arthritis.

It might be good for him.

At that point I’d reached my limit on genectically-correct responses. TAKE IT BACK, I barked, AND GET HIM A CASE OF HEINEKEN.

Of course the football fiasco isn’t an isolated incident.

One Christmas, I swear, he gave me a pillowcase and a hairbrush. Full disclosure—we were living in Tokyo at the time and Spousal Unit figured we weren’t celebrating Christmas. But still, couldn’t he come up with a case of Heineken, or Kirin or even a Hello Kitty keychain?

And then there was the birthday where he bought me some jumper cables. Was there an intended message on what he wanted to jump start? I don’t know, but I said nothing, just like this year WHEN I GOT NOTHING.

I do try to be sensitive to those less gift-giving endowed than myself. I’ve learned to open a beer, take out the credit card and get busy on the web. Here is what I bought myself this year:





I couldn't live without this Lloyd Dobler finger puppet by AbbeyChristine at Etsy



I love these misc items I picked in Ann Arbor



What better way to sum up me and my life? (by Analiese at Etsy)