Pfunksfoolosophy

See…I really dig the Viggo. I am probably one of the few people who can’t understand the ‘hot guy’ stuff. He’s okay looking, but he’s really a groovy kinda guy.
He writes, he plays music, he’s a photographer…damn, the brotha’s a busy guy…wait, I forgot–he’s also a painter. ALL of that and he’s a rock star actor. Not a movie star but an actor–you know…NOT TOM CRUISE. So, yeah I had to hate on Tom for a minute. I apologize. He ruined Mission Impossible for me for freakin’ EVER, but that’s another blog entry for another day. Back to Viggo, my main man and my big crush. See, the guy isn’t normal. I DIG that. So when a friend sent me this link, I was initially unnerved that he touched someone else’s feet (oh, the turmoil in my belly over that one) but then the interview got good…Awww, he’s cute. He’s wacky. He’s super smart–did I mention that he speaks Spanish, Dutch and goodness knows what all? Yeah. It’s one of my geeky crushes. I dig smart guys.
So, please if it seems like I’m objectifying the guy, cut me some slack. It’s really not about the looks. I’m really after him for his MIND. (dude, that’s some funny stuff) Guy could be a total jackass, but somehow I doubt it.

Here’s the thing: the television show was nothing like the movie or the book, but the teamwork of Alan Alda, Wayne Rogers and the original cast is astonishing. I LOVED that show. When BJ joined the crew, it was funny but it wasn’t as cool. Klinger stopped wearing dresses and the snappy patter became really, really preachy…BUT, I’ve gotta tell ya…some of my fondest childhood memories are of my family watching that show together. My dad served in Korea and never talked about it much. He got frostbite there while marching a POW back. The thing is this: Dad gave that poor guy his boots every other mile until they got back to camp. War ain’t funny. Dad was. He enjoyed watching that show because it took a lot of the sting out of his experiences. So, I love M*A*S*H because I’ve got fond memories of my dad. They’re few and far between.

Plus, who can forget the exchanges between Henry Blake and Klinger during that first season?

Henry: Here’s an oldie but a goodie…half of the family pregnant and half of the family dying. Klinger, what am I gonna do with you?

Klinger: You’re right, sir. I don’t deserve to be in the Army.

Ah, good times.

I’ve got to tell ya…I am not above playing make believe with a bunch of pals. Most of my pals are adults, but that doesn’t  matter. My friends Jimbo, Heckler and Simon really dig the paintball equipment and I’m kinda worried.

See, they are like Navy Seals these guys…and girls. They train for ‘missions’. I played along with them once and  nearly got myself slaughtered because my team had the strategy of running around willy nilly. In truth, we actually did pretty well. It got me to thinking: I need to check out some equipment if I’m going to play with these folks again.
I went over to a paintball site and found that they had everything you could think of and more. They’ve got names I recognize like Spyder and Tippmann and Smart Partsand they offer free shipping. Maybe this last time I went the paintball route had me unprepared and running for my life, but the NEXT  time I hook up with that band of wild eyed nuts, I’m going to be prepared.

I’m not going to be the prey…I shall be the HUNTER! (no, no I won’t…)

What is your favorite Halloween candy?
Well, to tell you the truth, when I was a kid…it was the mini Milky Way, but the $100,000 bar, which is now the ‘100 grand’ was up there. Does anyone remember Marathon bars?
Those were ropes of caramel covered in chocolate. They provided you with a ruler on the back of the wrapper. Why? We still don’t know. It was probably the only candy that you honestly couldn’t share with a pal. When you pulled it apart to break off a piece, the chocolate would crumble all over the place. If you had a good friend, they understood that the integrity of the bar would definitely be compromised, so they never asked. You couldn’t do ‘bites’ with it either. Maybe that’s why the discontinued it.

Another fave from childhood was the “Chocolite”. The Cadbury people came out with the ‘Wispa’ which was a lit like it, but there  was something special about the Chocolite. It had little crispy bits, they say of honey, and the chocolate was whipped…mmm…where was I?
Oh, yes..candy corn is only cool if it’s slightly stale…I guess I don’t really have a favorite Halloween candy. I do know that I feel sorry for NY kids. Growing up in the country, we had a blast. Just going up and down our street was groovy. We actually COULD accept candied apples from a neighbor. Mrs. Grace made caramel apples that were out of this world…Oh, that woman. She would also slip you a couple of BB Bats or Mary Janes if she liked you.
I have no idea where this post is going, but I’m feeling nostalgic…not for Halloween, but for the really neat older people who helped shape my culinary life.

Ahhhh, memories.

My mom does, that’s for sure. She bought one about six months ago and it seems that Pooper took it over. When he and his mom came up north for a visit, he borrowed it for the bus ride. Now, it seems the portable dvd player  belongs to him. He can even set it up himself and he’s not even three years old yet. He tells his mommy when it’s about to ‘die’ and although he’s not allowed to even go near an electrical outlet, my kid found him attempting to plug it in himself when the battery ran out. He’s a pistol, that kid…and he loves to be independent. So did Mom…until Pooper took over.

Once again, I’m in the market for a gift for a family member and I think I’m going to have to invest in a portable 10-inch DVD player for Christmas. Mom likes to travel and she enjoys her Madea DVDs more than anything. It would be super if my little love, Pooper would share this one item, but I’m afraid he’s become quite territorial about it. “Finding Nemo” is on perpetual play when he has it on.

It’s kind of a shame when a toddler has control of the electronics in the house.

But it’s kinda cute.

John Mellencamp–the man I used to lovingly refer to as ‘John Cougat Melonchop’ for no earthly reason, recorded a song called ‘Take down your nooses’ in response to racism in America and of course, the story of the Jena Six.

Now, there are many views to take on the situation–my view is that I don’t condone violence but I can’t see how the punishment is fitting the crime. If a sneaker can be construed as a possible weapon, and I suppose it could if you were on bizarro planet, they’ve got something on the kid with the offensive sneaker…BUT, here’s the thing: it’s been said that the black jurors called never appeared in court. That may be true. Do we know WHY they didn’t appear? Not as far as I know. I’ve been around long enough to know that there are means used in the South especially, to dissuade folks from doing what they know is right. I can’t paint the entire town with one great big paintbrush. They are individuals. I can give most of ‘em the benefit of the doubt. My main problem here is in understanding how the students who hung the nooses in the first place weren’t treated the same way. It was a hate crime. Nooses do not conjure up warm and fuzzy memories of puppy dogs, ice cream sodas and rainbows. Come on. I was born at night, but not last night.

Even if those kids (the perps, as they shall be called in this column) had engaged in criminal activity prior to the ‘beating’ (okay, so the kid who was beaten attended a social gathering after the ‘attack’. what was this kid, Wolverine?) what justifies the sentencing?
I don’t get it.

I DO know that I’ve been black all of my life and I grew up in privilege and comfort. My Dad grew up in Mississippi. I know what a small southern town is like, believe me. There are towns in the south that still have an unspoken rule that the Sun should not set on anyone with African ancestry. Take my word for it, I am not naive.
So, go on over to youtube and check out Melonchop’s song.

I’m not sure if I can put it up here since it’s going to be on his new album. I don’t want the brotha on my arse about it.

It’s called ‘Take down your nooses’–I think.

Hey, you can also check it out on his website.

I dig the ole fella.

That’s an old George Carlin bit, but it rings true. We all need a place for our stuff.

My best friend is a crafty woman. She crochets, she does counted cross-stich and she does some scrapbooking as well. She recently learned how to knit. So with all of that crafting going on, she needs good storage. She usually uses heavy duty plastic containers, but you know…with paper and yarn you need something sturdier and definitely water tight.
We used to store everything in crates and boxes in our garage and our basement, but there’s no way of telling what kind of varmints can get to you.
I like checking things out online, so I’m going to advise my pal to look at
some storage bin options for her shed.
   Go out and get some cool storage bins for your next project.

There’s a sleep study that says people sleep better when they sleep alone.

Are you kidding me? I’ve been saying this forever. Sleeping is serious business. Now monkey business in the bedroom is another story. That’s serious business, but not nearly as serious as getting forty winks. As I grow older, I grow wiser…I like sleeping alone. I adore the fact that I can spread out like a starfish or cocoon myself up in my blankies.

My past beaux have seemed a bit offended when I ask that they return to their own homes in order to sleep. I don’t want anyone touching me or keeping me awake because I can’t get comfortable. This could be another reason I’m still single after all these years.

Hmm.

I have to call my married friends and gloat…ahem.

My Mom bought a house about a year ago in North Carolina. She’s got homeowner’s insurance
, but she’s been shopping around for something a little better. Mom’s house is pretty groovy and in a rural area, so I suppose she’ll have to try to get some insurance for natural disasters…like revenuers (ha ha)…or moonshiner’s insurance…

Since I’m online most of the day (don’t ask), I’ve been doing her research for her. I found some cool free insurance quotes and I’ve given her the lowdown.
Shopping for insurance shouldn’t be such a hassle, but you’ve got to get exactly what you want. is nothing to take lightly, right?
The internet is a great resource and I’m online anyway, so it’s the least I can do for my Marmy.

 I  hope she can find a better insurance company soon.

Yesterday marked my brother’s FORTY-NINTH birthday.  I know that it’s killing him. He’s not someone who looks forward to getting older. He’s a brat like that. When we were younger, he and I were really good friends. He taught me how to play baseball and I even played Little League with him. I was underage and a girl…unofficially the first girl to play Little League baseball. Unofficial because I was underage, so my stats didn’t count. Didn’t matter.
Over the years, we’ve drifted apart. I’ve often wondered how or why, but I suppose it’s just because of choices. His choices have led him down a different path. He’s got a lot of talent, artistically speaking, and was a great pre-K teacher. He chose to retire…I think before his time. The school is still after him to come back. I wish he would. He was happiest when he was working with those little ones. You can’t live someone else’s life, though.

My brother and I call one another ‘Pookie’. He was my ‘Jake’ and I was ‘Elwood’. The Blues Brothers was our flick because I probably would have met him outside the prison gates in a refurbished police cruiser. We would have driven through the mall and said, ‘Wow, this mall has everything’ in the midst of a high speed chase.

We used to be a great comedy team. In the summers on our way to the beach, we would stop off at Cumberland Farms, a convenience store, and have our beach towels tied around our necks, wearing masks and enter the store like superheroes. We’d pick up an odd assortment of food items: Cap’n Crunch, sour cream and onion chips and ginger ale…whaaa? The cashier always delighted in seeing us jumping around the store. Then one day we came in ‘normal’, the cashier was disappointed. Funny stuff, that.

Another time, we were trying to remember all of the addresses for the families on our favorite t.v. shows from our childhood and we drew a blank for Rob and Laura Petrie. WHAT?!? The Dick Van Dyke Show was my absolute fave. I wanted to be a comedy writer because of that show. What did we do? We called information. Do you know that the operator called us back? We thanked her profusely and sent her a thank  you card.
For the record: The Petries lived on Bonnymeadow Road in New Rochelle, NY.

One of my favorite stories is when my brother, my pal Angie (not the blog Angie) and I were talking on the roof of our house one early evening. We looked down on the street below and saw a woman wearing a cape and walking a three legged dog. My brother started singing–’devil with a three legged three legged…devil with a three legged dog!’ to the tune of ‘Devil with a blue dress’…you know the number. Funny stuff? You bet.

My brother does a mean Elvis (circa comeback/Vegas) singing ‘Suspicious Minds’ and ‘Hunk o’ burnin’ love’…He also does a good ‘Teddy Bear’.

Man, he used to be sooo much fun. He’s not so much now.

I remember when Ricky Nelson died that horrible New Year’s Eve.

My brother was in Florida partying with his buds and he called us:

“Awww, Pookie…he’s GONE, man! The red-headed stranger is GONE!”
I had to gently tell him that it wasn’t WILLIE Nelson but Ricky Nelson (also a family favorite due to the Ozzie and Harriet Show). Without missing a beat,my brother whined, ‘OH….the TRAVELIN’ MAN…aww, he made his last stop…awww, man…Hey GUYS! It wasn’t  WILLIE it was RICKY!’  He was drunk. It was cute, though. He was still heartsick that Rick was gone, but he was relieved that it wasn’t Willie. He has a special fondness for his potsmoking brethren, I suppose.

Anyway, that’s my brother…he was cool. There’s a sensitive side to him. I just wish he’d find it.

I think he shares his birthday with Sting. That’s gotta hurt. Groucho Marx and my brother share the same birthday…that’s pretty cool.

So, happy belated birthday brougham.