Do Not Give That Woman The Remote

Spontaneous human combustion
Alien abductions
Nostradamus
Poltergeists and other hauntings
Bigfoot sightings
The legend of Chupacabra
Mind-control experiments

Jot down this list. You could even add to it, if you'd like, based on whatever popped into your head when you just read it. Tack it to a bulletin board. Sticky-note it to your forehead. Whatever you do, don't lose it. And the next time I mention I'm going to surf Netflix for something to waste a few hours on, grab that list, read it to me, and remind me why I must NEVER, EVER watch any show with any of these as its subject.

I keep forgetting. I turn on the Apple TV and get sucked into a vortex of cold case hysteria, of declassified secret files, of conspiracy theories run amok.

I'm a reasonably logical, college-educated, former journalist who enjoys a well-spun tale as much as the next gal. I'm not particularly gullible. I like real facts and figures more than fuzzy math and sheer speculation.

But there's something about the sliver of truth that dances in and and out of the shadows in these questionable tales, something that makes me think: Who knows? What if? Do you think maybe?

That's when it all goes horribly, awfully wrong. The X-Files theme song plays in my head. I close my eyes and see the words form. The truth is out there. I want to believe. Trust no one.

And now I can't fall asleep.

Comments

Ho, Ho, Ho, How Many Times Can I Use "I'm too busy" as an Excuse?

I haven't had time to write. Work, swim meet volunteering, holiday decorating and shopping. But truthfully, I've not been in much of a mood to write anything anyway. Last night we put up the tree and Santa chachkies, and I drank my first egg nog of the season, so perhaps I'll be in a cheerier mood. Also, I have spent some time writing the annual Schoon holiday newsletter. If you happen to get a copy, treat it like a drinking game. Every time I make you roll your eyes, take a drink. Nog, wassail, Everclear. Whatever gets you through. One sure way to assist with merriment motivation is listening to Christmas carols. I'm not going to get into a debate over what truly constitutes a carol. You can "Jesus is the reason for the season" yourself until you turn blue; I generally lean toward the secular end of the holiday tune spectrum. And if you just gasped at my use of holiday instead of Christmas, go suck on a candy cane. It's my blog and my opinions. Deal. ...

Who knew...

'Tis the season for bridal bliss. 'Tis also the season for the accompanying reception dance. And what's a wedding reception without that most unique of all marriage celebration dance numbers: The Chicken Dance. You know the drill. Polka starts, beak-quacking hand gestures, flapping, butt shimmying, and clapping ensue. A fun time is had by all (especially if there's an open bar). What you may not know is that: 1. This oom-pah song's origins rest with a Swiss according player named Werner Thomas who wrote it, most accounts say, in the 1950s. It originally was called the Duck Dance. 2. It is NOT German or Austrian, despite the images its roll-out-the-barrel-ish feelings it might conjure up. 3. A fellow named Norm Edlebeck, who was a bandleader from Wisconsin, introduced America to the Chicken Dance on TV's PM Magazine in 1982. 4. More than 140 versions of it have been recorded worldwide, including Walt Disney Records, together making more than 40,000,000 records (o...

IHATE IHOP Update

Tim went a few rounds, verbally, with the IHOP manager on Sunday and ended up getting our meal for half price. He still had to pay, though. I do not think that these people understand the severity of their incompetence. Or perhaps they just do not care. Someone commented to us that perhaps we should tell the IHOP folks what happened to the last restaurant that did us wrong. Recall the lactating masses who came out in support of us when we were booted from Hoover House restaurant in West Branch because I refused to breastfeed my baby in the bathroom? Remember the stories that ran in every newspaper and on every TV news show in the state -- and beyond? I'd like to point out that the Hoover House (which interestingly enough doubled as a venue for wet T-shirt contests on weekends) went out of business after our little incident. And for those of you who were befuddled and wondering how the police got involved on Sunday...someone from IHOP took the time to run out and write down our lice...

WanderingAmylessly 2.0

Search This Blog