So here I am.  Upstairs in my office.  Listening to Zill.  Doing her homework.

And listening to music.  Pop music to be precise.

I am not into Pop Music.

But Zill is.

And since I don’t like her tune-age, I can’t resist making up my own words to her music.

Like, “I kissed a dawg, and I didn’t li-i-i-ike it.  Cawse she licked me first and who knows where her tongue was, becawse she’s a daw-aw-aw-awg!…”

Or “I wanna be a big leg with Nair.  So f*in without hair…”

Or “Hi my name is Bubbula!  I got the match stick in me.  Every time I burn myself I turns into mold…”

See.  Even music you loathe can be fun!

Whee!

Fun Your Way outta the Pop!

No tags

Not a potato, only had a pic of a tomato... but she's lovely, isn't she!

Tomorrow is going to be amazing.  Because tomorrow I will be receiving Polyester from Netflix.  And hopefully watching it, if Zill’s homework isn’t overwhelming.

I haven’t seen that movie since the 80′s when I went with my BFF Rita-girl.

We drove to the movies in my potato.  Actually it was a Mazda GLC, which was turbo charged by a gaggle of gerbils running treadmill for a motor.  But we called it “The Potato”.  Because it looked kinda lumpy.

And I think someone colored in a few eyeballs in the slew of dings that ran up and down the sides.

Yay for poor-starving-college-student’s mobile atrocities.

Plus since I never washed it, it had a bunch of thangs sprouting out of the crevices.  Maybe even a bird’s nest or two.

Mmmmm!  Birds nests.  Those are tasty.  Breads with holes cut in the center within which you throw an egg (after cracking the shell) and fry ‘em up.

Ah!  Digression.

So back to The Potato and the movie.  Or maybe just the movie.

I think we went to the Nuart.  And they passed out scratch and sniff cards.  When a certain number flashed on the screen, you had to scratch and sniff the number on the card.  Hence the term scratch and sniff.

Brilliant!

The odors were not pleasant.  But we were good sports and scuffed the numerals and snuffled the scents.

Must have done something to my brain, because from that time forward, I could not remember the actual movie title.  I just called it Scratch and Sniff Odorama.  And everyone seem to know what movie I meant.

Alas, I read that the scratch and sniff sheets are not included with the DVD versions.

Sigh.  Nothing to blame my forgetfulness on now.

Shout out to Rita! Will be thinking of you.  And… um.  The potato.

Fun Your Way out of the Potato!  It’s better out of that death trap then in!

***************************************

Post Script:

Clang!  Brain Flash Lightning Bolt!

Coming soon to the Slique Products Page: Bumpah Stickahz!

(& Buttons, ‘cuz Zill says so.)

“I SURVIVED THE POTATO!”     &   “FUN YOUR WAY OUT OF THE BOX!”

More ideas as the clanging of my brain continues.

And perhaps even a Bumpah Stickah Slogan Contest!  Submit your ideas to vicky@sliqueproductions.com!

Nuart · the 80's · the potato

The moon…

The moon viewed from my orifice window

… the moon looks like someone took a bite out of it.

A nibble off the upper right side that ever so slightly mars the perfect circularity.

It doesn’t look like cheese tonight.  More like a fancy, schmancy Pastry Parisienne.  Like a petit fours.  Perfectly icing-ed.

Or a silver dragee.

Used to love those things when I was a kid.  Those silver dragees. Sadly, I just now discovered, whilst Googling the proper spell-age, that, alas!

Silver dragess are classified as non-edible and for decoration only by the FDA in the United States because, um,  they contain minute quantities of heavy metals.

Oy!  Does that mean that I’m, like, a heavy metal band?  Am I… Poison(ed)?

Well that explains a lot!  And love it though I would to provide a link to Poison for any of you fans, I won’t.  Because when I did try to do just that, POISON poisoned my computer and eroded away my entire blog post.

Double Oy!  I had to go by memory to re-write this whole thang!

So instead, I will entertain you with this:

And this scientific-y other things not to eat entertainment:

Sponge Bob!  Don’t eat Mrs. Puff!  Or the Silver Dragees!

You are what you eat.  I’m a Petit Four.

Yum Your Way Out of the Box!

you are what you eat

It’s been awhile, so out of boredom, I logged into this email account that I used when I thought I was going to establish an acting career under the stage name of Minot Toria.

Headshot #1 on LA Casting

Why Minot Toria?

Because when I was, like, two-years old, my aunt kept calling me Victoria all day long.  Non-stop Victoria this.  Victoria that.  Well, Victoria is a lovely name.

But my mother, chose against the formal name, assuming nobody would use it.   She assumed I would be nicknamed, “Vicky”.  She cut to the chase and named me just that.  Might as well make the nickname legal.  Little did she know that most people would end up calling me Vick.  Ha!  Tricked you Mom.

Anyway, I digress.

So, my aunt was driving me nuts with this Victoria thing.  And by the end of the day, I was fed up with it.  I stomped down my little two-year old foot and stated, “Me no Toria!  Me Bicky!”

Yep.  That became another nickname that Mom didn’t plan.  Me no Toria.

So.  My Stage Name for my Non-Existing Acting Career was born.

And two years later, it still yields me potential jobs/auditions.

Like one for a Contortionist for Purell.  Wait!  I can almost touch my toes, see!

Or:  Conga Drum Player.   Boom Boom Thumpa Thump! Yeah! I go to the drum circle Sundays at the HB pier!

Or:  Human Cannonball.  Fire in the hole!

Or:  Singer/Rapper.  Um.  No.

Or:  Casting Cluttered Homes In the LA area…. Hmmm.  Possibility there!

Or:  Santa Claus.  Damn!  I shaved off my beard.

Well, near jobs.  But none that I truly fit.  Oh, well.  Had fun reading them, and that’s all that counts!

Fun Your Way Out Of The Box!

acquiring new skills · job hunting

There once was a teacher who taught.

And the subject she covered was art.

Three bins full of stuff.

That transformed with a puff,

Into the Ace of Cups on a cart.

Tarot reading becomes a limerick.

Not everything makes sense.  Especially this.

Fun Your Way out of the Box!

using tarot to create

I don’t wanna write today.

Writer's Block: Done in a Colorful Way!

So what am I doing?  Writing.  Because if I don’t, there’s this little voice inside me that will nag me until I do.  And it’s Friday night.  Nagging voices should take Friday nights off, but not mine.

I could drown it with pizza and beer.

But the orator has politely declined the tasty offer.  Good thing, as I’m not partaking in this evening’s feast either.  I’m drinking Epsom Salt Solution instead!  Yum.  Good choice, Vick!

Just to back up a bit.  For those of you who don’t know, since I got married , every Friday for the last 18 years, except maybe ten, has been Pizza/Beer Night.  It kind of makes me want to rebel.  And maybe why the kvetching lecturer is not being conned with tonight’s meal ticket.

Also, the Epsom Salts Solution is bringing out the worst in my inner whining complainer.  Oy!  Shut up already, for crying out loud!

I’m going to crawl into a little hole for now until tomorrow, after which my chopped-liver/of-awl-da-gawl bladder cleanse will be complete and I CAN EAT!  Yay food!

C-l/o-a-d-g cleanses.  Not fun, but much better will I feel when it’s over.  Until then, here’s the score:

Pizza/Beer Night        871

Vick:                                   11

Yes!  I’m catching up!

Fun Your Way Out of the Box!

change up your fridays · kvetch · persistence · rebel · routine

A Great Day to Golf--Take a Hint Mr. Happy!

If you want to be happy, do not talk to negative people.  Because they will take the sunshine out of your smile.  On top of that, they will take the smile out of sunshine and turn all days dark and gloomy.

Though thunder and lightening can be exciting, after a while, nonstop rain can get you down.  And the people who have tempest tantrums will soak your soul and leave you soggy from your head to your toes.

It isn’t easy, but in dreary times and amongst uproarious folk, it is best to let your smile be your umbrella so you don’t get drenched.

Or for a hipper version, click the link below:

Pete Miserendino/Let a Smile Be Your Umbrella

Don’t let the “Mr. Happy’s” of this world turn your milk sour….  Fun Your Way out of the Box!  You’ll be glad you did

positive thinking · smile · tempest tantrum

So yesterday, I went to see the play, “A Leap of Faith“.

Leap of Faith the Fish, her BFF Goldi Meir & their Trainer Coach Carp

And though usually, my sense of direction is pretty good, I got lost coming and going to the theatre.  Only because I was in exploration mode.  Good thing I left early and could afford to lose some time.

Good thing Madame GPS was with me, too!  She made sure I didn’t wind up on Fairfax perusing the Farmers Market for Bagels and Lox, instead of rubbing shoulders with Tuxedo Clad Gentlemen and their Ladies in Fancy Schmancy Dresses and Jimmy Choo Shoes.  (Capitalization emphasizing Important People).

Me.  I didn’t get too dressed up.  It was raining out.  Rain and fancy schmancy don’t mix it up in my wardrobe world.

The going voyage wasn’t too exciting.  Just a couple of miles away.  Just a couple of extra right turns.  (I like turning right.  Right on Red Rocks!)  It was pre-sunset.  I could kind of see.  Seeing is good.  Especially when driving.  Wouldn’t it suck if I was Mr. Magoo?

But the leaving.  That was more eventful.  I somehow wound up in a not very nice neighborhood.

No matter which way I turned, I got further and further from the freeway I wanted.  And somehow.  I wound up in a ghetto.  The same area I got lost in months ago coming home from the Magic Castle.

The difference?  The Magic Castle event was in broad daylight, and the vehicle I was driving was occupied by the large, burly husband and his equally athletic friend.  Yay for Tough Body Guard Type Guys when you are driving places unsafe.

Guys who were yelling at me that I got lost.  Wait a minute! Yay action revoked!

(Yo!  Why am I always the driver?  And why do these particular male passengers like to yell?  Next time they ride in the trunk or get strapped to the roof!)

See.  These guys really weren’t that tough.  Boo for not so tough, grrrr-ly men.  Fortunately, GPS was with us that day, and we didn’t have to test out their  body guard skills.

Last night.  I was alone.  It was after midnight.  And I kept hitting red lights.  But for some reason, I wasn’t afraid.  I took a Leap of Faith, and drove through the not-so-nice neighborhood anyway.  Because due to the heavy rains, the streets were practically empty.

And my car was empty of yelling large, burly, athletic, grrr-ly men.  Chauffeuring yelling, large, burly, athletic men does not a pleasant driving experience make.  The experience it makes is more grrrr-ish than pleasant.

So in my solitude, I was free to enjoy the empty byways.  And the silent beauty that one rarely sees in Downtown LA.  Pleasantly.  Lost was I driving.

Too soon, the freeway (not the one I actually wanted, but the one that chose me) rose before my eyes.  And as I maneuvered my way along its stretching length I wistfully longed to be back in LA lost and alone.  The sole driver.  On the barren lanes.

I allowed all the racing, competitive drivers pass me by in their quest to be first in line.

I missed the peacefulness of the vacant LA streets.  In my moments lost, my serenity I found.  The stillness I experienced filled me with a tranquility that I rarely feel.  Ahhhh.    It was almost A Vacation.  A Vacation in an atypically not-overcrowded urban area.  Like a mini holiday.  The urban felt rural.

Sometimes reality is not what it seems.  And places not so pleasant become magical!

Fun Your Way out of the Box!

finding your way · getting lost · grrrr-ly men · leap of faith · magical places · peace · serenity

Going to see Leap of Faith tonight.

I think I am taking a leap of faith trusting the freeway systems after today’s crazy rain storms.  But I’m trusting that I will get there safely.   Because everybody else will be home keeping dry.  And the freeways will be all mine!  Muah ha ha ha!

Fun Your Way Out of the Box!

No tags

Me and Pepe the Poodle.

Okay.  So I am, like, an adult, I think.  Or am I just like an adult?

I’m not that big, so I could be mistaken size-wise for a 7th grader.  But my age… 48….  Yep.  That would be adult in some people’s books.

So I find it very frustrating when a certain someone, (who will remain nameless, but you may guess if you want), treats me like a child.

When this happens, I want to jump up and down and stamp my feet.  I want to climb up on a ladder to be right in that person’s face.  I want to proclaim that, “I am a mommy!”  “I am a business owner!”  “I am a voter!”  “I’m of age!”
“I am capable of making decisions.”

But somehow, my verbalizations slip off my lips sounding somewhat childish.  Or if I act adult-ish, the comment I receive is taunting and juvenile. And then I fall back into sayings of the “Sticks and stones…” nature.

Why is communication so difficult with certain people?  From where did the animosity arise when there was never any intended on my part in the first place? Why do I wish for this person to do what this person enjoys most, but when I do what I enjoy this person raises a stink?

The stink.  It smells putrid.  And when the stink slithers toward me creeping up my olfactory system, I want to hide in my box of fun.  To escape.  I wish at these times to pretend that my box is more fun then it actually is.  But honestly, the fun box needs a little work.  And I think I would rather have fun out of the box then in.

So I propose to escape all boxes.  That is my quest.  That is my goal.  And if that person wants to be a poopyhead they can do it without me.  Because I’m not going to play with poop any more.

Negativity kills.

And I am positively pro-Vick-life.

See me fly and escape.  See me wave at Jane.  See me wave bye-bye to Dick!

Fun Your Way out of the Box!

assertiveness · standing up for yourself