Pfunksfoolosophy

Hey, kids…loads of really groovy stuff has been happenin’ in Pfunk’s life:

Spookyand I have been talkin’ about getting the Brotherhood of the Travelin’ Pants back together which is fabulousity times about a million—but that’s another story.

Pooper is too smart for  his Bubbee…

Ah, life is getting pretty darned groovy, man. I am totally groovin’ on my blessings.

What to do? Share it, yeah? It is so superfantastic that I’ve got to wonder how I can appreciate it without screwing it up…

Let  me know if I DID screw it up, but in the meantime…let me tell you just how groovy you all are…revel in it, babies…roll around and wallow in you funkitude ’cause lemme tell ya…no one else is gonna tell ya how super groovy you really are. Most folks are lookin’ to see how they can benefit. Not the Pfunk, baby… I’m here to tell ya that you rock the school.

Yep…YOU. You’re boss of the beach. Why? ‘Cause you care about folks. You go the exra mile when you don’t have it in ya. You call. You write. You bring something to the person who needs it. Sure,  you can’t afford it—you still do it, and you’re honest.
Guess what? I absolutely adore you for that. Hell, in spite of it. You rock the school.

Go and share your coolness. Share your honesty. Share your wonder.
You are the best you can be.

I dig that.

Loads of crazy stuff going on in my life, kids.

Some of it is pretty groovy but most of it is making me tired. Very tired. This blog business isn’t much of a business, but it’s a good way to vent for a bit and express myself. You know…complain while sounding all kindsa deep. Okay, maybe not.

Working, working, writing…laughing at the insanity…eh. Pretty good stuff. Did NOT see myself on Law and Order: SVU. My kid did, which is a problem. Is it that I wasn’t watching or is it that I just can’t SEE? We’ll investigate that burning (itch?) question later.

On with the show: Okay, the gig on Sunday was cancelled, but the gig before that was weird. I don’t know why I went on so late, but by the time I went up the audience (peopled with all kinds of out of towners–foreigners at that) was pretty tired. I was mediocre, but still charming. I didn’t feel that adrenaline rush that follows a great show. Eh. You can’t be a winner all the time, I say.

In other news: I’ve been working on some short stories. They’re crap but they make me remember why I wanted to become a writer and why I enjoy telling stories. Speaking of storytellers: Check out ‘Zoli’ by Colum McCann. He’s one of my favorite writers. Brilliance. And you know I don’t use that word lightly…

In a late breaking story: The ‘old man’ I’ve been taking care of is out of the hospital. No more jaunts to Queens on the “R” train. I am relieved. Queens is miles from nowhere, ya know? BUT, they’ve got a Target. Bought some health and beauty aids on the cheap. Should last me a good long time. Happy.

My crush on Kevin James is going strong–thought you should know that. WHY does  “The King of Queens” still slay me? Can’t help myself. The cast blows my mind. Got into an argument with a woman who thought me daft because I said he was cute. Mind you, I was ragging on her because she said that Mick Jagger was sexy. Okay. Mick. Jagger. Sexy.

Are you kidding a person? First of all, old enough to be my daddy. Second of all, he looks like the Grim Reaper’s cousin Frank on a bad day. Thirdly…YIKES, man. Have you really taken a good look at the old boy lately? I’ve seen him up close and personal. I needed a shower for my eyeballs. And the boy cain’t sing. I want to slap him with a baby seal. Only if the baby seal would survive, mind you. Maybe with a kitten. Okay, PETA is gonna be on my arse.

Where am I going? Oh, what about PETA being a little crazy also? I’d like to see People for the Ethical Treatment of HUMANS. That would be nice.

All right, that last bit was apropos of absolutely nothing, but I felt it had to be written.

PETH. Heh. PETH. When you say it softly, it’s almost like praying. Peeeeeeettttthhhhh.

You’d think I was a stoner and not a sleep deprived maniac on the verge of –well.

Well, let’s see what’s in the mailbag…

“Dear Pfunk, Lately I’ve been wondering about a couple of things: what is going on with the hair on Zahara, the Jolie-Pitt kid? Do they even KNOW any black people or are they convinced that it’s perfectly all right for that kid to walk around  with a fright wig atop her adorable head? Comb and brush. Apply them to her hair. Every. Day. The other thing is this: what is going on with us having to know every single move that Britney Spears makes? I don’t care and I would give the highest prize in Journalism to the reporter who refuses to utter her name again–unless it is accompanied by the phrase ‘and I couldn’t  possibly care less.’ Yep, I’ve had it. So, Pfunk…please respond with some foolosophy.
Yours most truly,

Your inner self”

Dear Inner Self,

I got nothin’.

Hey–this has been a scattered column tonight, but then again, so am I.
Keep on keepin’ on, know that I love ya and I’ll write again soon. I’ve been missin’ us.

We’re  really good together.

: )

Hey gang! I’ve really been slacking off and there are no good reasons. Sure, I’m a busy gal. Sure, I’m making my way with this book thing. Bottom line is, I’ve not been in a really communicative mood. Haven’t felt much like writing and what with the anniversary of Dr. King’s assasination, I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching.

It’s been forty years–FORTY years and I remember it like it was yesterday. I was four years of age and I remember seeing my mom crying. She was sitting at the television and sobbing. I knew something historically significant had happened. She wasn’t watching soap opera or a sad movie. At four, I KNEW that my life was going to change immeasurably.

I know what you’re thinking: how could a four year old know how important that event was? Well, in my family, we don’t treat our kids like morons. In my family, we discussed everything–including civil rights and the war in Vietnam. I knew what was going on. Maybe I didn’t understand why blacks weren’t given a fair shake–I grew up in a place where racism may have been alive and kicking, it wasn’t overt. We had a comfortable life…but my mom and dad grew up in Kansas and Mississippi- mom was in school in Kansas during the whole Brown vs. The Board of Education thing. Dad of course, was in MS for the better part of his formative years; no need to tell you that he understood only too well, the Jim Crow laws and lynchings. He’d seen his share of heartache. I think that’s why he enlisted in the Army. See the world and get a better understanding…anyhow, I’ve been thinking that I’m not doing nearly enough to make an impact on the world. What am I doing to keep the ‘dream’ alive? Am I being the best person I can be? Am I trying to help everyone I can with a cheerful heart?

Nope. Not by a long length. I’ve been too busy with my own headnoise. I’ve not been reaching out to my dearest people. I’ve been in my hole. Well, I’m getting out of it.

Lainie: I’m gonna ring ya as soon as I get a phone that won’t drop my calls every five seconds.

Gogammie: You have a call in your future as well.

Okay.

So, tomorrow is the anniversary of my sister’s death. That’s been on my mind as well.

Twenty-two years. It’s still fresh in my mind and it’s just as hard as it ever was. I miss her every day. I can hear her voice sometimes and it’s unnerving. There are days when I swear I see her walking ahead of me in this city and I rush to say something to her. When I reach my destination, I see that it’s a woman who resembles my sister only in that she’s of a similar build. Tears sting my eyes and I wander off, confused and sad. It’s never easy, kids.

You get sort of used to it, but you’re never over it. So, what do you do? You put one foot in front of the other and you breathe. You embrace the memories and share them with folks who knew her. You listen to music that reminds you of her, of her laughing at your stupid dances, of misheard lyrics…you just keep on truckin’  because you know you’re not the Lone Ranger–other folks have experienced great losses too. Get over  yourself and make your life happen the way you want it to happen. Believe in the miracles you can create.

You marvel at your resilience.

Okay, so if you’re me—you probably eat a ton of ice cream and stay in bed all day.

It’s a coping mechanism.

Get over it.

Okay, kids…that was kinda deep and rambling. My apologies.

I love ya and I’m here.

Talk it up. Keep laughing, keep loving and for goodness’ sake, keep on keepin’ on.

Be well!

Hey, gang…

It’s been about twenty days or so since I last blogged. What’s been going on in my life? Not a whole lot–I just haven’t felt like being on the computer. Just trying to sort things out in my life, get my career going and not want to shoot my face off. Yippee…so far so good. Had a show on the sixteenth and it went well. Once I convert it to dvd, I’ll put it on the site. You know I want to share my humor with you on all levels.

Didn’t watch the Oscars so I won’t talk about that. You didn’t want to hear it from me anyway. I did hear that my boyfriend Javier Bardem won. I love him. I can’t help myself.

In other news, I think that I may have to really start looking for a place to live. I can’t take it in the hairball haven much longer. Pray for me.
Great things: Discovered a brand of sour cream with salsa already in it. That makes me happy. My kid introduced me to the Tostitos with a hint of lime and they go great with the sour cream. My new favorite snack. Also found a nice mint chocolate that the people from Lindt put out…it’s dark chocolate. Good for me. Mama like.

Got myself some Valentine’s day chocolate for 90 cents. SCORE!!!
Awright, so most of my good things are food related. Hey, I’m a foodie.

Sweet mother: Gotta mambo. Gotta go watch Sean Puffy Combs massacre one of the most moving pieces ever written for the stage. That’s right: A Raisin in the Sun is on the telly.

Lord help me, I’m gonna watch it.

Maybe he’ll be struck mute. Nope, this ain’t live…why do I get the urge to slap him whenever he speaks? Could be because he just looks like the kinda guy who needs a good knock around. Eh. Violence solves nothing. Maybe I should get some chocolate.

Ahhh, yes.

I’m back kids. I’ll share more goodness with ya later.
Be well and keep on truckin’. Like Eddie Kendrick. Keep on truckin’.

Top Ten Reasons to Choose Joy

10. If you commit a murder they’ll find ya. Watch ”America’s Most Wanted”. They’re good.

9. It beats being crabby and miserable.

8. Sure you could probably find someone to ’do’ the person you really, really can’t stand, but

it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as you think. I’m just speaking from my experience watching

Lifetime Network’s ”Women in peril who pay someone to off their husbands” movies.

7. It feels good to embrace the wonder of life. It does. I’m not trying to kid ya.

6. Being joyful might just annoy the heck outta the bastard/bitch who is buggin’ the heck outta YOU

5. You’ll live longer.

4. You will love better.

3. You’ll probably eat less.

2. Sometimes that’s a good thing. Wait–that isn’t a reason, but a comment. Okay, so number TWO…you deserve joy.

1. Joy is the second word in my favorite candy bar the Almond Joy. How cool is that?

Yep, I’m havin’ a rough go of it this week. BUT, I am happy. I’m loved. I’m secure.

I still have laughter and best of all, I’ve got some pretty groovy tunes.

Totally cool 70s and 80s funk featuring the Ohio Players. I can hear you all singing

“Rollercoaster of Love” right now.

Rolla-coastuh! Of love! (say what?) Rolla-coastuh! whoo hoo hoo hoo!

Yeah, you know you’re rockin’!

Ahhh, music!

Get down people!

As you can see, I’ve been a busy kid. Haven’t had much time to blog. I am preparing for the arrival of my kid and grandson for my birthday, which is in a couple of weeks.

I’m over the moon since I’ve not seen them since this past summer. Apparently, Pooper is nearly 41 inches tall. He’ll be three on the 22nd of this month. Five days after his due date, which is my birthday, for the record…ahem. Muhammad Ali, Betty White, Andy Kaufman and me…how splendid….okay, so the challenge of embracing each moment is going well.

I’m really quite happy most days. There is the residual paranoia that accompanies the feeling of contentment because after all is said and done, I’m still the adult child of an alcoholic, so I can’t completely trust the groovy stuff. (that’s a joke, kids.)

While I have experienced a good deal of drama in recent months, I can safely say that I know it was for a reason and if I didn’t have good friends and a strong faith, I would probably be in a padded room at Dr. Dippy’s Retreat or at the very least, a cell at a women’s prison somewhere.

Have I done a gratitude list lately? Have YOU?
Let’s all take a moment or two to create our gratitude lists, shall we?

Here goes:

 I’m grateful for my life. It may be confusing and busy and occasionally crazy, but it’s life and life is sometimes messy; it beats the alternative.

I’m grateful for a roof over my head, no matter how many times my roomie burns whatever it is he’s cooking. At least I’m not living at the chicken coop.

I’m grateful for my family–even if they drive me nuts, it’s never really a long drive and it’s nothing that I didn’t ask for when you think about it. I love them and I am loved by them. I don’t need much else.

I’m grateful for my friends and their unconditional love. See the above reasons as they apply here as well.

I’m grateful for employment that doesn’t make me want to shoot my face off every day. Sure, it’s corporate and I’m not a corporate monkey, but it keeps me fed and housed. Ya gets what ya need when ya works.

I’m grateful that I’ve got enough talent to keep me afloat.

I’m grateful for my spirit and my sense of humor.

I’m grateful that I can see past my own needs.

I’m grateful that I am a work in progress and know that there is no such thing as perfection.

I’m grateful for the path that leads me to joy every day.

I’m grateful for the times when I don’t feel particularly grateful and I’m reminded in some  way that I’m all  I’ve got.

I’m grateful for this blog to blow off steam in a constructive way; I’ll not make any money from it, but it’s an outlet for healthy communication.

I’m grateful I’m not the person  I was yesterday.

I’m grateful that I’ve got a steady grip on who I am becoming.
Your turn. Be grateful. Be joyful. Be content right  where you are because you’re supposed to be there for a reason.

Circumstances will change the moment YOU change…I’ve  learned that much.

Right now is good, ain’t it?

Okay, so I’m not really old, but honestly I’ve gotta tell ya: my bursitis is killing a person.

I’ve got two bum knees due to starting sports at an early age. One knee is swollen and creaky and giving me fits. I knew it was gonna snow before it did actually come down. I also took a tumble when my knee gave out. I felt like a sap. Yikes,man. So, it looks like I’ve gotta push  my fish oils and lose some weight in order to get back to my peppiness.

I have always loved the winter. These days I’m feeling like I should be wearing sweater sets and tasteful hats. Possibly some galoshes from the same folks that make the slipper socks…oy.

Hey, happy holidays by the way. I didn’t post for my eight crazy nights because I was too tired. Not one game of dreidel was played. I did make myself some latkes. That was about it.

I also sang my ‘Eight nights of Chanukkah’ song but only to myself. No one really wants to hear it.

For those of you in the know, I’m gonna try to post ‘An Axe an apple and a buckskin jacket’.

Oh, that’s a toe tapper. It’s annoying as hell, but Bing Crosby makes me smile–even if he was an abusive pipe smokin’ mofo. Gotta love that voice during the holidays.

Hope you’ve got your shopping done and reached out to those  less fortunate. Actually, I’m hopin’ that you’re reaching  out to the less fortunate every day.  We’ve gotta take care of one another, don’t  we? Ahhh, you know that already.

Keep on truckin’, babies!

There’s enough love for everyone—even the folks who make you nuts.

it’s time, man. What is happening in my life is that I’m slowly getting used to the idea of not trying so hard to fix everything. Yeah, it sounds simple and in truth, it is…somehow my intellectual side seems to get strongarmed by my emotional side. Heady stuff for someone who was once known as “Spock” in my family. Yep, logic, man. Logic…it’s the way to go most of the time. So, I’ve been looking at some things that need to change in my life. Patterns that have become so bloody familiar that I’ve just let them reign for far too long.
I’m sure you guys can relate. I keep saying that my one goal is to be the happiest person on the planet. It’s still my goal. I still choose to find happiness in the mundane because it’s less complicated.
Today, though…whoo, I had some challenges. Fueled by caffeine. Yep, I had the caffeine paranoia. It colored my judgement. It made me nuts. Had to call my best friend to talk me down. That event caused me to assess my behaviors.

I’ve GOT to participate in my life on a real level. It’s not going to serve me to continue to walk on this path with the dead bodies of my poor decisions strapped to me. SO kids…I’m moving toward some new patterns. I’m keeping myself healthier. I’m eschewing (bless you) the negative speak from the committee. They tend to tell me that I’m not realizing my full potential. (Actually, that part is sorta true) Instead, my choices are to look at my challenges with a glad heart instead of with remorse. Let’s see how it works.

Remember the Pollyanna Challenge? Let’s get it together. Let’s support one another. Let’s make those changes in order to move forward. Success, happiness…pure joy–they’re ours for the taking.

It’s time to change. For the better.

Keep on rockin’. You’re loved.

Well, I’m not sure if you guys are up to speed, but I’ve started a new job. Yeah, corporate America and yours truly are dating again. It won’t last, man. Well, it’s GOTTA but it chafes a mite. Anyway, I had a stellar day today with one of my co-workers who actually ‘gets’ that I am a complete doofus incapable of remaining serious for even short periods of time.
Remember, I’m 1/4 Irish and 1/4 Native American. We express ourselves in two ways, really: Rage and humor. That’s about it. Naaah…mostly it’s rage. NO! Uh, so anyway, I got this song stuck in my head. I told my co-worker. The song: “Little Green Apples” by O.C. Smith. If you’re not hip to that, download it. It’s a wistful sorta toe tapper. Okay, so I asked my co-worker ‘why, mama? why???’ just like Nancy Kerrigan. Her response?
“Cause G-d didn’t make little green apples and it don’t rain in  Indianapolis in the summertime” It was brilliant as it came via Instant Messenger. Priceless.

I started laughing, she started laughing and we met in the aisle. Her response?
“You’re right; we CAN’T be trusted to play together”

So true. So groovy when someone gets your tomfoolery. Sheer grooviness, kids.

In other news: I’m working on being happy, joyous and free every day. How are you folks faring in that regard? I’m not neglecting you…I’ve just not had a lot to blog about these days. Been trying to keep my head to the sky and my heart full of wonder.

So far, so good. It really pays to keep your mind  on your bidness and on your spirit’s growth.

Be good, man. Ya never know who’s watching.

In an unrelated story: Helio wins over Mel B.? Yeah. Whatever. I still love that guy, but still.

Life ain’t fair…and  neither  is my arse.

Whoopee!

Keep on truckin’!

Well, I’m not going to my grandmother’s house…BUT I am cooking like my grandma. I love to cook Thanksgiving dinner. My turkey is legendary and it’s really quite simple to make. Some folks like to brine and think it makes a huge difference, but it’s been proven that the difference in flavor and moistness is negligible. Here’s what you do: DON’T OVERCOOK IT. Simple, huh? Also, I cook it sloooowly and use a compound butter of sage and thyme. Rub it all over the bird, stuff it between the skin and flesh and you’ve got yourself a great tasting, moist little turkey. What else is going with that little critter?

Dressing. Plenty of dressing. I don’t like to stuff the bird…it gets icky. SO, I make a sausage and pepper dressing using cornbread and herb stuffing mix. It’s quick and easy and damn if it doesn’t fill ya up. Additionally, we’re having mashed taters. Garlic mashed ’cause I likes mah garlic. It’s good for your heart. Of course the butter and whole milk might not be so wonderful, but come on…it’s yummy stuff.

This leads us to my favorite part of any meal: GRAVY. Hopefully I will make enough. Sometimes there isn’t enough gravy and that makes me sad. I can make a meal of mashed taters and gravy. I HAVE made a meal of it, in fact. I’m also making candied sweet potatoes. None of that marshmallow topped business, that’s for the birds, man. Collards and sweet potatoes go great together so I’m making some collards.

The piece de resistance will be macaroni and cheese. Mama like. Cheesey…creamy…aw, man…I wish you could be here to enjoy it.

If you’re in NYC, look me up. I’ll be in the West Village serving it up.

No food stalkers, please.

Hope you all have a happy and food filled holiday. I know that I’m thankful for you.

Be well, gang!