Monday, March 23, 2009

But We Need the Poop Bags

I have been in a literal frenzy around the house these days because we have run out of bags in which to scoop up Max's poop. Safeway bags, The Home Depot, the occasional Ross, Streetlight Records. (Rasputin uses paper bags.) Barnes and Noble - all gone. I am living on the cusp so to speak of having to pick up the stuff with my fingers.

Although there is a history of those who've done worse including Divine famously eating the shit in Pink Flamingos. Although interestingly, I looked up keywords famous scat and got very few links to non-musical scat. Do people use that word anymore?

The pure and simple fact is that we no longer have a stash o' those grocery-type sacks. So, I trundle around searching through the pockets of an unused winter coat (snagged two), running out the front door to catch a sack I see blowing by the window, and using the special bag we got at the Feline Conservation Center in Rosemond, CA from the bottom of the stash box. (I had wanted to keep this bag for eternity just because it was a bag from the Feline Conservation Center in Rosemond, CA. That's my mother in me.)

Georjet and I even brought home a doggie bag of horrible food we ate at a Japanese diner. I asked our waitress if I could get my plate to go and when she left Georjet spoke.

Why would you ask for that? This food was horrible.

I know but we need the poop bags.

I've recently come across a stash of the plastic packing material from our recent move to California. I was going to throw it out but then I realized it came in sheets, like paper towels. I've been picking up poop for eleven years. I can do it with a paper towel; I've done it with a paper towel. These plastic sheets have pulled me out of a few poopie binds.

It's not that I don't know that one can buy poop bags. In fact, the aforementioned mother sent me a box of biodegradable poop bags a while back that is somewhere in the house - if I could only find it. But put out money for the purchase of bags to pick up shit when there are millions of these grocery-type sacks produced that blow around the neighborhood and kill seagulls in landfills? I refuse to buy into this theory of mass consumerism. And its not that I can't afford it. Believe you me, I can afford poop bags.

Soon there will be a few shopping trips in a row - for the right items - and we'll have enough poop bags to keep going for a bit. It's like a drug. But in the meantime I'll be searching for the temporary poop gloves unless I can remember where the biodegradable...OMG, they're in the car for emergencies. I believe this is one.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

I've Been Bozzed!

Being bozzed means simply that the wonders of the Boswell Sisters, a harmonic jazz vocal trio from the 20s and 30s, have been indelibly etched in my mind, body and soul. The Boswells were the Andrews Sisters ten years before the Andrews Sisters were the Andrews Sisters. Connie, Martha and Vet made music that still sounds fresh today. Check out Heebie Jeebies and try to stop shaking your fanny.

I realized I'd been bozzed when I saw Heebie Jeebies and my emotions started to swell. I have a couple of CD compilations that I had been listening to voraciously but when I watched the girls singing, the depth of what I had previously just heard bubbled to the top. There's a lot of love, a lot of family, and a lot of history behind the smiling faces in the video. For instance, lead vocalist Connee (who also played the cello) lost the use of her legs from a bout of polio when she was three years old but the sisters still went on to become performing legends.

Martha played the piano for the trio, so Connee would be carried out and placed on the piano bench...When the curtain rose the audience would see Martha and Connee seated, and their sister Vet [who played the violin] behind them with her hands on their shoulders. They even took their bows from this position.

The italicized words above the video of Sleepy Time Down South are just some of the history of the Boswell Sisters I found on the wonderfully informative web site, Check out Rock and Roll below (it's very likely they invented the term despite the difference in it's use here) and then head over to to get yourself bozzed!

(Jean Sargent whom I had never heard of, opens the Rock and Roll video.)

Saturday, March 7, 2009

My Facebook Cheerleader Dis

Whatever the reason (my nerdiness or their snobbishness) I was never approached in a friendly manner by any cheerleader in any school that I have attended. They just paid me no mind. I find it fascinating that this dis continues through the Facebook years.

I found this picture of my 5th grade teacher and her team of cheerleaders on Facebook. It had been so long since I had seen her I commented on the photo - the first to write a comment for this particular photo - asking:

Is that Miss Kendall?

For a month I received notifications that cheerleaders in the picture were commenting on the picture but not one of them answered my question. Finally, in the seventh comment, a non-cheerleading male answered in the affirmative.

And life goes on.


For an interesting story about Miss Kendall, see Miss Kendall.