You are ALL witnesses.....

This is "Sam". She blogs. She is a little annoying. She really can't handle it that we have never met and is dying to meet me. It's because I am so cool. I rock. EVERYBODY wants to know me. Why wouldn't they? My teeth stick out. (Braces.) My hair sticks out. (It's almost pubic like.) My forehead is the size of a frying pan. (A big one.) And I swear a lot. (Sailors blush..)

How could you not want a piece of me?! I ask you. I know. It's a tough question to answer. You want to gush. You want to be my friend, yet you don't want to look desperate. Puulease.

So that is how "Sam" is. Desperate and jobless and out for a good time and wants to meet me. We have spoken on the phone and spewed expletives at one another in loving gest. Yet no in your presence face slapping yet. That will be tonight.

That is where you come in my loyal blogger. (Yes, I put that in the singular - all one of you.) Here is her picture. Yes, that is EXACTLY how she looks. Use it to give to the authorities if you never see me again. If I fail to return from my drunken celebration this evening - you know what to do. Call the FBI, the CIA, the PTA, AT&T and MCI. Let everyone know to put an APB on me. Then sit down and watch CBS. Eat a PB&J and wash it down with a little O.J. The listen to a little X.T.C. PAY ATTENTION - you are SO OCD.

Ahem...moving along.

Consider this my statement to the authorities if I disappear. SAM did it! It was SAM. Don't let her (if she really is a her) fool you. SAM ALLLLLL THE WAY.

And if I am in any hot water after this evening and I don't disappear but the authorities are still involved? It was still Sam. I am innocent. I love puppies and cute bunnies. You can't convict me on the grounds that I like cute things. And Sam did it anyway.

Remember those beady eyes people. Remember.....

??????? And ?????????

There was a time that I would catch men checking me out. Thought it was a brief phase. Like about 30 minutes in 1996. I was totally hot for those 30 minutes. Smokin' actually. But that time has passed. I am no longer a magnet for the beef cake.

No no.

Now I am a magnet for the fruit cake.

Strange men flirt with me at random times. Times when I am certain that it is a sign not only of my passing glory but their servere mental issues to have chosen ME as their target based on the obvious state I am in at that moment. Like when I go to pick up my HUSBAND's laundry and I am in no shape to be batting the men away. My hair is all a frizz, I have no make up on and dark circles under my eyes like someone had punched me. I am blond which means, naturally, my eyebrows are blond/clear/don't exist. Which means I look like a white Whoopi Goldberg. I am sure I am bloated and I am pretty sure I have food in my braces. Green spinachy type food. Yet I get weirdos who are turned on by that. They like the slightly retarded/homeless look. I guess they think I am easy. You could say it my fault for actually appearing in public in that form. Shame on me. Laws of attraction and all.

Either way. I have turned a corner in the attraction of the opposite sex - and it scares me. Because these men, who feel the need to speak to me and try and make my acquaintance, I am certain are the same men who have "hit lists" and wear makeup at home. Who still live with their mother. Probably carry a picture of her in their wallet. Who rent rooms over garages from little old ladies, yet lead weird double lives.

These are the men who hit on me with their 40 year beer bellies and greasy t-shirts. Yum. I really am a lucky girl.

I wish I was narcoleptic

Hello, my name is Anna and I have a sleeping problem.

I never sleep through the night. Ne... Ver.. And it is slowly killing me. Like an earwig that has snuck into my inner ear and is eating away at my brain so I slowly and gradually loose all common sense and die of confusion and dumbness. That is what it it is like to have insomnia.

I have a ritual. It works like this. I feel tired at the usual time. I get ready for bed. I floss, brush my teeth, wash my face, take my vitamin, lotion up (all the nooks and crannies) and sneak into my bed with my yummy husband for a slumber. I love sleep so much - I almost get giddy at the thought of going to bed. Then I fall asleep. Like a drunk Santa at the shopping mall hidden in the corner next to the Sears and the food court taking a break. Just like that. I am out.

But then, like clock work, I will wake at 2:30 AM and worry about everything from global warming, to life after death, to bills, to retirement, to whether or not I had enough vegetables that day. (Enough veggies really is a big one for me. I mean REALLY! Are you getting all you can nutrient wise form YOUR diet? It really can send you into a panic if you haven't gotten enough beta carotene. Jesus - I need my beta carotene people! )

I typically will not fall back to sleep until the sun is about to come up. Then, back to the drunk Santa routine. I am out, just as my husband is slipping away to head to the gym on his nice 8 restful hours of sleep filled with dreams of hot lesbians and ice hockey games. Asshole. I think he sleeps well to spite me. Fuck it. I KNOW he does.

For a time, I took to sleeping pills. That was fun. Not addicting at ALL. No really. Why would I be dependant on a little pretty white pill that promises me true sleep for eight hours? Why would I do something stupid like THAT? If I think REALLY hard about it, I think it had something to do with the fact one night my husband pointed out that I had just administered one of my lovely sleeping pills by way of a huge glass of rum and coke. Really. I thought nothing of it. Hmmm... glad he was there to prevent any Anna Nicole Smith like snoozing. What a great husband I have in Howard K. Stern. Kidding. My husband is not Howard K. Stern. It's George Clooney. Were were married in secret sometime ago and I help take care of his pot belly pig. It really is bliss.

See?! Lack of sleep results in hallucinating. I know that George would never let me take care of his precious pig. Even if we ARE married. Currently. Like right now. Right now we are married. I mean it.

So I need help. Send money. In large denominations. Being close to huge bags of money helps me sleep deeply. So if you love me - help me and send me a million bucks.

Thanks.

Jesus.... because I am nice

.... but just barely... I am doing this because Badgerdaddy called me out on it. This crap gets sent to me all the time and I avoid it.. but I buckled... Here goes:

3 Things That Scare Me: Global warming, death of loved ones, pedophiles

3 People Who Make Me Laugh: My husband, hands down. I am constantly laughing. Sprinkles husband the Mexican, he makes me cry he's a funny mo fo, Will Ferrell because he pisses excellence.

3 Things I Love: warm mornings watching the sunrise with a cuppa joe, reading in a quiet house and forgetting where I am since I am so into it, nightlife with a Dirty Martini.

3 Things I Hate: Ignorance, judgemental people - those who cannot FATHOM someone living life other than THEIR way - wanna punch them in the gut, excuses (GOD I hate them - be honest with yourself and me people -it's that simple.)

3 Things I Don't Understand: math, why the world can't let go of gasoline, the KKK

3 Things I'm Doing Right Now:Drinking more coffee, prepping to tear apart our kitchen/dining/living room, daydreaming

3 Things I Want To Do Before I Die: go to Africa, live in another country, live on a boat

3 Things I Can Do: Cook, make people laugh till they cry, hug. I'm a good hugger - been working on my skilz...

3 Things I Can't Do: Kill spiders with laser beams that shoot from my eyes (that would be COOL), pretend that I like you if I don't, see a stray dog and not want to bring him/her home.

3 Things I Think You Should Listen To: Billie Holiday, Imogene Heap, anything from any of the Buddha Bar compilations. Oh.. and Colin Hay... I know - thats 4 - suck it.

3 Things You Should Never Listen To: Racists, Evangelists, Dick Cheney (The Penguin)

3 Things I'd Like To Learn: French (I can stumble horribly now - want to be fluent), the piano, quantum physics... seriously - very fascinating.

3 Shows I Watched As A Kid: M*A*S*H, Welcome Back Kotter, The Loveboat

3 Bloggers I've tagged: Hmm.. Sam, Slyde, Earl... your up suckers...

My Puerto Rican grandma will surely haunt us now

“Honey, it may be helpful if you learn opposites in Spanish to help build your vocabulary. "

"Uh, ok, like what? You know I really suck at languages."

"Well, how about before and after? Antes and despues. Say it with an accent... antes y despues."

"Ok. A-n-t-e-s ... EEEEE... gazpaCHO!"

"WTF? Gazpacho?! Like the soup? You can't repeat it right after me without fucking it up? My dead grandmother hates you. I know it. "

yes yes... never fear I am ALIVE MUTHER FUCKER....

Thank the King of Annaland. Oh... also thank Bacardi. Both of their intellectual skills... rocket science like in nature. They allowed me to log back in to blogger. Me is stupid. me no understand internet problem. Big mean internet. Little small sweet Anna. Hard to combine.

Ok ok... Anna is a little mean. Meaner than the internet. But in this fight? I lost. Lost like like a one legged man in an ass kicking contest. Doesn't mean I didn't try though. Jesus.... this typing fast when you are drunk?!! Hard and stuff.... Excuse my drunken posting typos and nonsense. At least I am posting.

But I have fixed my issues and I can fully blog like I have never blogged before. All hard core blogging all night baby.

Ok - so Mr. Badgerdaddy.. . in the UK.. who emails me nasty emails to tell me I haven't blogged... like I don't fucking know I haven't blogged...? I am blogging again soon.

Also Mr. Daddy of Badgers... I have a prep Vegas trip planned in April. I consider it MY marathon training... you run.... I drink. We make a blissful pair. I am sure my husband would agree. Really. Stop laughing.

Slyde.. I owe you like 2 million posts.. but I can't remember my log-in for your site. Help. Me.

Sam - I love you - but you suck the biggest dick I have ever seen in my life. Something crossed between an elephant and sumthin. Sumthin HUGe. iT'S too late to say... but it's BIG so help me god... really big. Call me. Shit head.

Better posts later. Promise. It will be witty. It will be big busted and full of thoughT and insight. Really. Your laughing again. (Sigh)

Here: Read this. At one point in my blogging life - I had wit. I had charisma. I was funny. You liked me. You really, really liked me. Really. Quit looking at me blankly with that lame ass stare. Read this and shut the hell up. At one point. It was good stuff. My blogging skills that is. Now? Not so much - but it's all I got baby.

http://annalander.blogspot.com/2005/07/to-protect-and-serve.html

I need just one more drink. And I can stop whenever I want.

Tyrannosaurus Rex's make BAAAAD neighbors

The other night I had a dream. I could classify it as a nightmare as it rocked me to the core. It seemed too REAL. I dreamt I was in my house. And it WAS my house. No difference. No strange oddity that makes it a dream and makes it a little less close to reality. Nope. My house. My homey stuff everywhere. My dogs hanging out annoying me. I was at home, but I was scared out of my mind. PEEING MY PANTS freaking out.

Why? Oh I guess it had something to do with tyrannoraurus rex hanging outside the house waiting to eat me and my puppies. It kept circling my house trying to find the best spot to smash in and make me it's snack. Every once in a while it would leer into one of windows trying to figure out where I was in the house. I could hear it stomping around, smashing my new patio furniture (asshole!) and grunting and growling. I kept trying to sit as still as possible huddled in the hall way of my house (no windows) hoping to GOD it would just go away. It was sooooo Jurassic Park. I don't know where my husband was in this dream. He was probably at work. Because he is ALWAYS at work. I bet in my dream I tried to call him and he wouldn't pick up because he was too busy. That would have been just like him. Typical.

Anyway - I woke up several times, would fall back asleep and each time, the dream continued. I couldn't shake it. I passionately told my husband about it in the morning. He told me I should calm down, as OBVIOUSLY it was just a dream.

Suuuuure it was honey. Sure it was. Cumon! I watch enough quality prime time TV to know that THAT, my friend, was a premonition. And when that fucker shows up. I'll. Be. Ready.

In San Diego: I wish I remembered this....

...because, apparently, you know, it looks like fun. Alas, I will need to check with my two friends pictured here, maybe THEY remember. I doubt it.


Or may be my buddy here could refresh my memory regarding the purpose of THIS gem....


Great job Anna. I ALWAYS ruin pictures. My face does NOT show well up on film. But hey, I got a GREAT personality.......


No. REALLY.

it's 2:45 AM

Frou Frou, Colin Hay and Zero 7 have been floating around in the air all night. Plus extra large servings of rum and diet. mmmm. Me likes.

PLEASE check out:

allofmps.com

Like, totally cheap downloads. Me no kid. CHEAP CHEAP. Average price? 20 cents a song.

Kaiser Chiefs and Amy Winehouse for nuthin. Cum'on people. That's cheap. Unless your cheaper.

If so... call me.

Espiritu del Ecuador

Q: What's better than being happily drunk on a Thursday night?

A: Nothing

Where's Waldo....

Though he is not really in this picture, I post it because I have this weird habit. I must look at pictures like this one thoroughly before I discard them, on the off chance that someone I know is in them.



Found myself doing so with this picture my husband took on his business trip last week. It's a picture of Picadilly Circus. Common sense tells me, IT'S FUCKING LONDON ANNA - get a grip. You won't know anyone in this picture.

Alas, I still feel the need....I must ponder.

Like that bald man dead center bottom walking across the street. I don't know him. But I do wonder what he is doing RIIIGHT now and if he has any idea that because he walked across the street that day, at that perfect time, he is now part of the subject matter of my blog post.

Hmmmmmm....

Bored.

As you can see I had some spare time today. It is rare. At some point I will finish what I started. For now folks, you will have to deal with the pink. Promise it will go away.

This will seem strange.

There are 2 parts to this story:

Part 1

I've been alone in my house all week. It has been lovely. For some reason, I have not felt the need for any noise. No radio. No tv. Just me, a few glasses of wine and silently & peacefully doing things in my house. My husband and I are odds on this. He grew up in a home without any noise or music, so he HATES the silence. He, at the least, prefers some music playing. To him it is too stark, too silent in the house without it. I coudl do either. But I do like a balance, some nights quiet, some nights stimulation and noise. Both have value. But to my husband, it makes him uncomfortable without something playing. I can understand this, but he is different from me in that I can just sit and think. I could truely sit on a couch, not necessarily stare, but sit and think. In peace. Honestly, it's like a meditation. So without him, I have done just that. Each night, I have lit a candle, poured myself a glass of my new favorite wine, sorted through crap in my office, looked at pictures in photo albums, etc.

The looking at pictures gave me pause the other night. Some time ago, I made a point to take every picture of my brother that I knew I had and consolidate them into one special album. So I went through it and thought about my brother. In the warm silence of my house, alone, I thought about my brother. Thinking in such a way that, in my heart, I hoped my thinking about him was sending him a vibe. Somewhere. Who knows where. Just, somewhere. Like I was talking to him. I am sure many folks do this. The more I know about grief, the more I understand this is not strange. In the contrary, it can be very helpful. This time it did seem so. In the silence, in my head, I was thinking as LOUD as I could to my brother. I guess, with out realizing it, I have been thinking in my head very loudly to him since my husband left, since there has been silence to allow me to do that.

Part 2

Ever since my brother's death a song that was written and performed by Tori Amos has in some weird way been the musical message I try and send my brother, again, in my head. It's called 1000 Oceans. Whether or not the words truely were meant for this purpose, who knows and who cares. For me it has. In the wonderful silence that has been in my home, with my loud thinking going on, this song has wafted through my mind the entire time. I have the cd with this song on it, yet I rarely, if ever, play the song. Too hard to hear I suppose. Any time I heard it, I used to cry. I don't think I would now. I suppose it's been long enough. But the sentiment has not faded for me. I am certain of that.

Then today, with the magic that is the internet, I typed in a search for something COMPLETELY unrelated to this song (it was in reference to a "blue ball" - no not THAT kind) and found a link to YouTube for 1000 Oceans, since those words appear in the lyrics.

So for the first time, I watched the video to the song. Not too interesting. But it forced me to sit and listen to the powerful words of a very emotional song for me.

It's not THAT drastic of a coincidence. It's not something that most people would take with a grain of salt. But today, I choose to. Today I choose to believe that my brother is thinking loudly back to me.

Here is the song, if you wish to hear it.

Weird dreams

Woke up this morning in total pain. Had some dental work done yesterday and I feel like I was hit in the mouth with a baseball bat. I think the pain had some effect on my dreams. Here is what went down in my head last night:

Some how I was watching people set up carnival rides in a parking lot surrounded by chain link fence. In one back area of the chain link fence Prince William, yes, THAT Prince William was performing autopsies on a line of bodies being wheeled in.

I spoke to him a bit about it and then told him it was grossing me out so I was going to leave.

Then I woke up.

Fell back asleep and I was in Hawaii. I was watching as Hurley and Jin from the TV show Lost woke up in the middle of a bed, in a hut where GIANTS lived. The giants ( a husband and wife) started to make out and Jin and Hurley had to run and hide in a crawl space to get away. Don't know if they didn't want to SEE a make out session or if they were afraid of the giants.

THEN I was getting ready to pack up my stuff for my Hawaiian trip and sell a boat that I used to get there. It was like a 10 footer. Evidently, I had used it regularly to ship my husband and myself to Hawaii, without any shade, extra gas, or a place to sleep. Odd.

Need to lay of the Peyote....