Tuesday Titter

Movies are a huge part of my life. I use them to escape reality. I cite examples from them when trying to prove a point. And I quote them.


These are 3 of my favorites.


"I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that."

::::::

"I apologize to you if I don't seem real eager to jump into a forced awkward intimate situation that people like to call dating. I don't like the feeling. You're sitting there, you're wondering do I have food on my face, am I eating, am I talking too much, are they talking enough, am I interested I'm not really interested, should I play like I'm interested but I'm not that interested but I think she might be interested but do I want to be interested but now she's not interested? So all of the sudden I'm getting, I'm starting to get interested... And when am I supposed to kiss her? Do I have to wait for the door cause then it's awkward, it's like well goodnight. Do you do like that ass-out hug? Where you like, you hug each other like this and your ass sticks out cause you're trying not to get too close or do you just go right in and kiss them on the lips or don't kiss them at all? It's very difficult trying to read the situation. And all the while you're just really wondering are we gonna get hopped up enough to make some bad decisions? Perhaps play a little game called "just the tip". Just for a second, just to see how it feels. Or, ouch, ouch you're on my hair."

::::::

"Luanne, why don't we just go up there and say "This was our last weekend together, and we didn't feel like going to Fort Sumter and touring goddamn colonial homes. We wanted to go to the beach and meet boys and go to wild parties and dance." I mean why can't we tell them the truth?"

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Today's Tuesday Titter is interactive - What? Can she be serious? She is CA-RAZAY! I don't want her to know I read her vomit. She must be kidding.

Oh, people... I am serious!

I need to hear from my adoring fans family. I only hang with the coolest, most intelligent folks, so please present a 1,000 word essay comment using any of the following topics:

A. Why you think these particular quotes are my favorite.



B. A synopsis of the character who spouted these memorable lines and why you think I am much like them.



C. An example of your favorite movie quotes.





I look forward to reading what you come up with.

Tuesday Titter

I recently cleaned up my Picture Folder (not to be confused with Picture Pages - do you remember watching that on Saturday mornings?) and decided to pull out some photos that I haven't shared before - well, at least I don't think I did.... I am pretty full of myself.

For instance, I have an entire sub-folder with pictures of just me. ME. Who knew I was so conceited? - Do not answer that!

I get so many dates!

Nice Fillings!

Did I mention that Mom is cancer free? I'm sure I have, but I thought maybe I would shout it again!

Okay, you got my vote!

Queenie took this of Dad's spirit animal.

I dare you not to smile when you look at this one...

Beaner and the JMan are afraid of the Dell's Ducks. Crazy tourists!

And since most of the photos I feature are taken by the Queenster, I wanted to show you one I took last summer. I was so damned proud of this, I gave it to JMan and Beaner for Christmas.

To sum up: I keep a lot of photos of myself on my hard drive, I am a Democrat, Mom has no cancer, Dad is bald, Drew makes me smile, I brag about my photog. skills.

And did someone say Picture Pages??

Tuesday Titter

Happy Earth day!

Okay, let me explain - Earth day does not make me titter. If I said that it would make me sound...well, like a douche bag. Now, I love me some earth, I just don't claim to be all environmentally conscious. What makes me titter (this is a Tuesday Titter afterall) is my love of these ecards. They are a delicious mix of sarcasm and heartfelt sentiments.

Whith a tag line like, "When you care enough to hit send", they fit right into my sense of humor.

Check 'em out here.

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Turn up your volume for this one:

Don't you absolutely love that song?

It makes me hungry for a dose of black beans and cilantro.

Thanks Queenie for the video. I asked you to help get the song on my blog and in less than an hour, you totally delivered. You got some mad skillz!

I am totally the burrito lady (titter).

~~~~~

The last snipit (snippet, snippit...whatever) I want to share with you is my love for purple magic gloves.

I'll tell you more about them tomorrow. There I go teasing again!

Tuesday Titter - The Christmas Series

Part Two: The Decoration Obsession passed down from packrat to packrat.

There were some advantages to slaving 75 hours a week in retail hell. For instance: I worked with some great people, once in awhile I would hear the coveted, “thank you” from a cranky old codger that was grateful someone helped him get his cigars and of course there were the clearance items.

Clearance items were fabulous and dangerous. Being the first to ticket and place merchandise on the floor was a great benefit and knowing when an item was going to hit the pinnacle of 90% off was the best. In my tenure I procured a bread maker for $12, a blender for $2.50, an outdoor swing for $11 and more Christmas fare than I will ever have space for. I also purchased many items that are either on a shelf at the local thrift store or on a shelf collecting dust.

But, this post is about Christmas decorations – which I have an abundance.

I have a small storage unit down the hall that serves mainly to house my many plastic totes of holiday décor. Most of it was collected during the retail era, but there are a few totes that contain precious items from my childhood and grandparent’s collections. I have ornaments from my childhood that are spotted with mold and chipped with age, but I will never part with them. I have handmade ceramic pieces that have yellow lines of hot glue holding them together; I will never toss them away. Most of these items I keep just to take out each year, reminisce, shed a tear and then put them back into their tissue to look at again next year. I have never understood why I do this. I obviously think they are too ugly or fragile to display. Why not just throw them away?

I think it is the packrat gene.

The packrat gene is rampant in my family. I see it with my mom who gave me a box of chipped and broken ornaments once because they belonged to her mother and she felt that I should have them. I experienced it with GrandmaB when she passed away and I was able to have free reign with choosing what holiday décor I wanted to take from her room of decorations.

Perhaps it is also the sappy gene.

I am emotionally attached to these items and would be heartbroken to not see them every year. My family tree is sappy (heehee). Now, don’t get me wrong… not everything that I have stowed away is scarred. I have a beautiful collection of beaded ornaments that were among the chipped one’s my mom’s mom, GrandmaJ, made. I proudly display those with my various corny snowmen and Santa ornaments. I have an entire tote filled with Christmas tree statues that GrandmaB collected since the 70’s. They are each wrapped in towels and tissue that smell like her. When the lid comes off that tote, I am transported instantly to Christmas on Alfred Street.

I love decorating for Christmas! My whole apartment gets made over. I move furniture, wrap pictures in holiday paper to look like presents on the wall and I have theme rooms. Theme rooms are another packrat inherited custom - a custom that is laden with cheese and sap. I love it. This year, Queenie did a fabulous job displaying our Santa stuff in the bathroom. “He sees you when your sleeping. He knows when you’re awake (at three in the morning cuz your bladder woke you up).”

Happy Holidays!

Tuesday Titter – The Christmas Series

Part one: the music that makes my soul nostalgic and my ass shake.

I was a prisoner in retail hell for the better part of a decade. This imprisonment caused emotional and physical scarring that is slowly starting to heal thanks to a rewarding new job and Culver’s butterscotch shakes. Now, Pallet-jacks and sharp box cutters can do some serious damage to your shins and fingers, but the damage that I am working the hardest to overcome is my disdain for the Christmas tune.

I am serious here people.

November 1st…nay October 31st would mark the beginning of the downward spiral into emotional scarring. When most regular human beings are putting away their Halloween decorations and going into a sugar coma, retail schlubs are busy putting finishing touches on displays of Christmas products that they actually started setting up a week prior. And to get them into the mood, the magical radio network begins the onslaught of music that has a holiday (much more P.C. than Christmas) flavor. It begins slowly at first, only playing on the hour. But, pretty soon it is nonstop Jingle Bells and Santa Baby – the Madonna version. Hearing this would start my body convulsing and I would yearn to curl up under a warm blanket stroking my cat’s fur until the pain subsided. This was all BEFORE Thanksgiving!

I have been on parole for nearly 4 years from that jail and with a lot of hard work, I am pleased to say that I am listening to the tunes of Christmas again. I am beginning to hear my favorite songs and not think of late night shelf stocking with odorous seasonal help. My thoughts do not automatically go to snotty, crying babies begging for a new toy. And I may even hum to them when I am listening to them in a retail setting.

"Well, in Whoville they say that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day…"

Actually, I am not that saved. I still bitch and moan when I hear even a hint of Christmas music before Thanksgiving. I mean, what is with the radio stations playing the stuff in November? Also, if I am shopping for some bloody, vampire teeth in October, I better not see a lick of tinsel hanging next to them. But that is another thing altogether. We are focusing on music today… which, I have decided cannot start invading my space until December 1st.

December 1, 2007, was the day Queenie and I dug out the Christmas décor and unloaded the various snowmen and glitter-covered garb into our tiny apartment. I popped in a CD of Christmas carols that I picked up one year in a dollar bin. It was filled with the cheesiest renditions of standards by some local choir. It provided the perfect backdrop for our decorating and I didn’t once want to rip it out of my player and crush it.

I am healing.

I said this was a tittering post, so here are some of the tunes that make me giggle, reminisce and tear up…

I have this compilation CD called A Swingin’ Holiday. I love it. The best song hands down is Louis Armstrong’s Zat You Santa Claus?

All memories of hellish retail drown in the sea of his voice. Gravel-laden words of this genius they call Satchmo flood my insides and take my thoughts to Harlem in the 40’s. Did you hear how freakin’ poetic I just was? The man does that to me.

I couldn't find a good version of Zat you Santa Claus?, so I included this one instead. I think I may have a new fave...



I would be remiss if I didn’t mention those talented rodents that had me singing a couple dozen octaves too high about wanting a hoola-hoop.

Beaner, Queenie and I had this album and Christmas in the 80’s would not have been the same without our angelic (read: out of tune) voices butchering the lyrics right along with Alvin, Simon and Theodore.



And then there’s the 12 Days of Christmas. Actually I loathe this song. Well, not unless the Muppets sing it…



My absolute favorite Christmas song, however, is The Little Drummer Boy. I love any version of it…even Grandma Bonnie’s. Oh what I wouldn’t give to hear her off-key voice one last time. But I digress...sigh.

I am a pa rum pa pum pum-aholic. I am nothing if not a sap and the message of this song drums up (hee hee drums) memories of when we didn’t have a lot.

“Shall I play for him?” That is all… sniff… he… sniff… could… sniff, sniff… afford. He was a poor boy too for sobbing out loud! Oh, and when Mary nods pa rum pa pump um, I lose it.

Below is my favorite version. Bing, Bowie, old man sweater and clever banter. Nothing is better!

Tuesday Titter

Titter #1: Autumn

Autumn is my favorite.

It suits my clothes.

Prepare to see the brown turtleneck at least once a week until May.

Get used to this sweater; it will keep me snuggly until the first blooms of spring.

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Titter #2: Free Stuff.

My social life is pretty lame these days. I spend my time in dimly lit rooms staring up at a screen surrounded by popcorn munching spinsters (my peeps) and the noise of straws battling the ice to slurp the last bit of soda. Yes, I am a movie nerd. I mentioned this earlier here. I take this job very seriously and have applied for a little thing called the

REGAL(al. al. al) GOLD(old. old. old.) CROWN(own. own. own.) CLUB(ub. ub. ub.)

This plastic gem earns points just for feeding my sad addiction. Simply presenting this card whilst paying what is equivalent to a mortgage (hello $9?) earns points. When you have enough points (and you are unable to eat because you spent so much money at the movie to earn them) you magically earn a free soda, free small popcorn or the pinnacle…

A free movie ticket. Ah.

I not only flaunt my movie-nerdery at the theatre, I also give props to my homies at the video store. I joined their nifty club called the

BLOCK (ock. ock. ock.) BUSTER (uster. uster. uster.) REWARDS (well you get the idea).

This club had some up front dues (the most prestigious clubs usually do), but for an entire year I not only have the privilege of carrying around an extra piece of plastic but I also reap some pretty sweet benefits.

All of this just for doing what I love.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Titter #3: Pushing Daisies

Quirky. Dark. Light. Odd.


I love this show. It is refreshing to see a creative concept come to life and hold my interest for a full hour.

Basically, there is this guy, Ned, he can touch dead things and make them come back to life. He ends up helping a detective solve crimes. Ned owns a pie shop that reminds me of a scene from a Strawberry Shortcake episode.

His "gift" has some stipulations. If he touches the reanimated again, they will go back to their death. Also, he can only keep the person alive for 60 seconds. If he doesn't touch them again another person has to die in their place. In the first episode Ned brings back Chuck, his childhood crush. He chooses to let her live and now can never touch her again.

The show is a delicious visual treat. The bright colors make you feel like you are looking through a story book.

Tuesday Titter

In my next life I want to be a maker of commercials. I imagine this occupation would require only 3 things: a creative mind, a large vat of Café Americano and an overstuffed beanbag on which to lounge all day dreaming up ads that captivate your senses and make you believe that you cannot live without things like winged maxi-pads and the latest Iwhatever.



I have a ginormous crush on this little insurance peddling gecko. I adore the way he talks. I adore the way he licks his little eyeball and holds his coffee mug. I have never purchased the insurance, but I shush everyone when his commercials come on. How fun would it be to be the voice behind the gecko? How fun would it be to write copy like, “You’re like a brother to me?”



This next ad is amazing. I think the visuals are spectacular, but also love the sweet song that provides the perfect backdrop and makes me want to buy whatever they are selling.



A blurb from their site:

When you're introducing the next generation of television, you want to make an impact - but that doesn't mean you have to shout at the top of your voice. And it doesn't mean you have to be predictable. To announce the arrival of the BRAVIA LCD and 3LCD range, we wanted to get across a simple message - that the colour you'll see on these screens will be 'like no other'.

Sending 250,000 multi-coloured 'superballs' bouncing down the streets of San Francisco may seem the strangest way to do this, but that's exactly what Danish director Nicolai Fuglsig did for the BRAVIA commercial in July 2005. San Franciscans have seen some unusual things in their time, but even this gave them something to talk about. And we've got the feeling that this commercial is going to do exactly the same thing.

Sure did.

Tuesday Titter

In an effort to save brain cells, save money and save sanity, I have recently given up cable. One would think that the absence of 94 channels would significantly cut down the amount of vegetative lounging in front of the boob tube I do, but one would be wrong.

It just takes me less time to flip mindlessly through the channels now. I have what they call rabbit ears…nifty antennae that stick out of the top of my tube de boob and pick up several channels of quality programming.

Rabbit ears are way cool. They make my TV look like it belongs in the 70’s… back when the sets had dials on them and remotes were rare. They certainly do a first-class job too. With their help I get 11 channels. I catch your usual CBS, ABC, NBC, FOX affiliates. These satisfy my news jonez and provide me with my morning Al Roker fix. I loves me some Al Roker. They also pick up the signal for theCW, UPN and PBS… perfect for my Antiques Roadshow and Peoples Court habit. Oh, but it doesn’t stop there… I can also get 3 bible-thumpy-preachy-raise-your-hands-to-praise-Him channels, one called “Forty-Five” and even a Home Shopping channel.

It isn’t all fun and Al Roker though… I do miss cable. I was really on my way to becoming a Foodie with the FoodNetwork and I just started getting into Cash Cab on Discovery Channel.

I miss things like cheesy movies that run eleventymillion times on TBS. I yearn for Joel McHale and his sarcastic recap of the week’s news on the Soup. I heart Joel McHale

My television viewing habits have acclimated to what is available and I have new loves. For instance, I discovered a little show called the Singing Bee. This show had to be dreamed up with me in mind. The concept is simple: sing the exact words to songs. That is it. Queenie and I sing along with the no-talent contestants at the top of our lungs and dream of one day winning the cheap plastic trophy and the bragging rights that go along with it.

I have also become a crime show junky. I wait with baited breath through the beginning of Law and Order for that distinctive sound.

CSI Las Vegas is probably my favorite of the CSIs… although, they are missing one thing...

Tuesday Titter

Green hat.

Impish grin.

"Peace"

Tuesday Titter

The actual Encarta Dictionary definition of titter is: to laugh in a nervous self-conscious way

I almost changed the title of my semi-regular Tuesday postings to a more fitting one, but feel that "Tuesday Guffaw" or "Tuesday Chortle" just doesn’t have the alliteration I am looking for. And as anyone allows attesting, I am all about alliteration. Besides, a lot of what goes into a "Tuesday Titter" post is inspired by an awkward obsession I have or an embarrassing situation that made me titter.

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I was shopping for some upcoming birthday copouts on an actual gift cards the other day and there was an entire section of Muppet Show inspired cards.

My heart did a little nostalgic leap at seeing Fozzy, Kermit and Animal gracing the cover of the recycled paper greetings. I tore into each one anticipating a trip down memory lane and perhaps shed some bittersweet tears reflecting on my bygone childhood. I eagerly read each hoping to find the humor that used to make me howl with laughter.

I found lackluster messages and absolutely NO trademark sayings.

No "Wocka Wocka".

No "Bork Bork Bork".

Thus, no cards from the Muppet genre were purchased. I opted for some sarcastic humor induced greetings.

The Muppet Show was one of my favorite shows growing up. I remember thinking it was laced with some adult humor and I was being naughty just watching it.

Choosing a favorite character or sketch would be too difficult, but there was always an extra bit of excitement when the Swedish Chef made an appearance. He was deliciously inappropriate and he had real human hands. “Bork Bork Bork!”

The stodgy old men Statler and Waldorf were a hoot. Their sarcasm helped shape the way I express myself today.

There is a lot of information about this fabulous show and I strongly urge you to trek the trek of your childhood. Start with the Wiki site.

If you don’t have a couple of hours to spend catching up with Pigs in Space and Gonzo, here is a treat to whet your Muppet appetite.

Tuesday Titter

I heart my lint roller. The ingenious simplicity of it makes me titter.

Every inch of my life is covered in cat hair. The sticky rolls of the greatest (if not most “green”... sorry future generations) creation are the only thing that can combat the blankets and blankets of fine grey hair that can be vacuumed but never truly eradicated.

A typical day for me and cat hair goes something like this… wake up and push my cat off of my arm, cough and hack up the hair that has traveled down my trachea, scrape the hair off my tongue, shower the cat hair off my body, towel dry my body adding cat hair back on, run the lint roller over my clothes, put clothes on, lint roll clothes one more time before leaving my house, travel in car to work (car that cats have NEVER been in), pull lint roller out of my drawer and run it over my clothes again.

Tuesday Titter

I am putting together a PowerPoint for a meeting I am having tomorrow.



I decided to ham it up and add graphics of myself to let people know what I do and that I wear many hats. See if you can guess what I do...



I answer the phone.



I chat online a lot.


I wear this hat sometimes:



I also do this a lot:



And most of all I do it all while being motherly.

***Disclaimer: resemblance to the Virgin Mary is not intentional.

All I really want to do is this...

Ok, not really. Unless it is on a cool game show like the Price Is Right. Hey I heard Rosie isn't taking the gig...L.A. here I come!

Tuesday Titter

Today my boobies are making me titter. HeeHee boobie.

Disclaimer: The information contained in this post is not pertaining to the seabird belonging to the Sulidae family - Booby. I am actually referring to the breast

Now, I know you all are wondering why I don’t go for the obvious joke here and say, “Tits make me titter.”

Well, the word tit is too bovine. I don’t chuckle when I hear it. It conjures up images of a farmer straddling a small wooden stool tugging at pink utters dangling from a manure laden cow. It makes me think of strippers and porn and naughty things. Tit is just not funny.

Boobie is funny. Boobie. Boobie. Boobie.

Anyway… on a normal day, my boobies are NOT a source of amusement. We aren’t on good terms most of the time. They give me backaches. They are large and awkward and they get super sensitive every 21 days or so. But, today… today they are hilarious!

First, a little background…

Since my family tree is filled with the genes of buxom beauties, I have inherited a pair of saggy large breasts. This “gift” of large bosoms poses challenges when I am hunting for a sling in which to hoist them for long periods of time.

It needs to lift. It needs to separate. It needs to have cup space for gargantuan sacs of mammalian flesh. Strong wire and fabric are key components. Pretty lace, bows and pearls take a backseat. You need to have a good balance of structure and comfort. The perfect bra would probably be made of steel beams covered in marshmallow clouds.

Since I live in the real world and marshmallow makes me sticky, I settle for the Balconette from Lane Bryant… this bra is AMAZING! It is like a large-breasted NASA engineer designed it after taking a trip to the moon where her boobies defied gravity. It lifts. It separates. It comes in large lady sizes.

I love the Balconette. I have several.

Today. They were all in the clothes hamper. I decided to wear the poor man’s Balconette that I picked up at a different store.

Boobies lifted – check
Comfort and adequate coverage – check
Separated – CHECK. CHECK. AND DOUBLE CHECK.

They are separated alright! VERY SEPARATED. There is at least a 3 inch space between them. Not only that, the cups are angled freakishly outward.

One boobie is pointed to my right arm. One boobie is pointed to my left.

My nipples are pointed at 45 degree angles away from my body like butterfly antennae.

If you stood next to me, I may whack you in the arm accidentally and then try sheepishly to explain that I wasn't trying to get your attention. You might then look at me and wonder what the heck is wrong with my enormous rack and why I think it is acceptable to go around whacking people with them. It is better that I stay at my desk.

I am assured by my sister that I am hallucinating and am the only one seeing this, but I laugh every time I look down.

Boobies. Angled Boobies. TeeHee

Tuesday Titter

I love mixed tapes!

Yeah, I said tapes.

I used to make mixes of ‘stick it to the man’ type songs for my pals when they were going through some 6th grade hardship like detention for chewing gum. I had a mix of sappy love songs and power ballads to take away the heartache of break-ups. I would crank it up and sob into my pillow while sprawled across my bed in the dark.

Mom had this mixed tape that I remember sticking into my silver boombox (heehee…boombox) It had awesome (like totally tubular) songs like Yellow Submarine and Tie Me Kangaroo Down. I would sing the words to these songs and baffle all of my friends who were still singing songs from Sesame Street. When Queenie graduated from high school, Beaner and I carefully chose songs to make a tape that she could listen to when she was homesick. Beaner and I poured through our CD and tape collections to find just the right blend of music to make her cry uncontrollably and beg to come home.

Evil…I know, but she did transfer to a closer school. Thank you mixed tape!

I have since graduated to the CD… oh, but I miss the songs on some of those tapes.

Billy Joel has lent himself to many of my mixed tape endeavors. One that is soon to star in a CD mix of drinking songs. I just say this as a segue - I am so tricky.





Gotta love that song!! A pint of Guinness in your hand swaying to and fro as you belt out every word!

I love the part of Davy…who is still in the Navy and probably will be for life. Davy reminds me of The Clarence, who was in the Navy and had a tattoo of a half nekkid babe on his leg. In the video Davy makes the girl on his arm dance by flexing his arm muscles…The Clarence did the same thing with his calves.

The Clarence was my Grandpa. He is a titter-making memory of the best kind. He had tattoos up and down his arms from the Navy. His tattoos were such a part of him and I would stare at them for hours mesmerized by the hairs peeking through the silvery blue forms of faces and wings.

He had the best smile and laugh and messy hair and suspenders.

His hands were shaky, he bought me a necklace with an anchor the Christmas before he died, he loved my Grandma the way a woman should be loved and looked at her the way a woman should be looked at, and he was the first to hug me when she died.

He was just plain cool…

Tuesday Titter

You always made me titter. The memories of you still do. They fill me with happiness and keep you close.

20 years ago today you were called Andrew at 12 year old Stuffanie’s suggestion. You had chubby cheeks and pooped all over my white sweater one time.

Thank you for saying “bro” with the extra syllable. I am laughing out loud right now, picturing your chubby cheeks uttering, “I am your Ba- Ro!”

While most people "shuffled" off to Buffalo, you "shoveled" off to Buffalo. I can still see you snuggled between the Grammas in the front seat on our way to St. Germain singing, “You go home and get your panties, I’ll go home and get my scanties and away we’ll go… oh, oh, oh, Off we’re gonna’ Shovel. Shovel off to Buffalo.”

I will toast at my wedding using your, “Put your bottoms in the air!” “Bottoms up!” is overused anyway!

You fished. You lost shoes. You posed for cheesy photos. You gave Dad purpose.

There was nothing more entertaining than listening to you tell a story. Your sound effects were unmatched. Every story had a gun shot or a blast of water even if it didn't need it.

You called your dog Hunter.

You were never ever a slave to fashion… I loved that!

Ozzy’s ass on that sleeveless tee was awesome. The best part was that it was worn to help celebrate Christmas.

Oh, and Fox Racing hats go with everything!

Thanks for hugs. Thanks for letting me call you Drew. Thanks for being responsible. Thanks for your crooked smile. Thanks for making me so proud.

I miss you. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Tuesday Titter

Beaner makes me titter because she likes to giggle.

Sarah Jean.

Bean.
When she was a young sprout she was lanky and could twist her limbs like a string bean plant. Once in awhile her round belly stuck out resembling a bean you would find mixed with gooey, brown sugar sauce.


Beaner is the middle sib sandwiched between two loud, over-bearing sisters. She is quiet. She is sweet. She giggles. I adore her.


I mean…how could you not? She’s a giggler.


Speaking of Beans...

The Bush's Baked Beans guy also makes me titter like a love-sick girl. I am crushing bad when I see him bantering away with 'Duke'.

His bald head. His family secret. His overall nerdiness. I can't help it.

I also like L.L.Bean, java beans and bean dip with guacamole.

Tuesday Titter

I have no grandparents. Damn cancer. Yeah, I started my Tuesday Titter with that… trust me, this will all make sense.

Now, grab a tissue and pay attention.

Since I am challenged in the area of older generational influence and spoiling, I often look upon curly, white headed adults with a little yearning.

There are these two ladies that walk every day in our parking lot. I sometimes imagine them tittering away about one of their grandsons, the doctor, and how he is still searching for his tall, witty big-boned goddess. They will see me up in my tower (read: 2nd floor office window) in all my perfectly-dyed-brown-haired glory and know instantly that they must run home and call said grandson on their rotary dial phone to tell them all about me.

I will then meet and fall in love with Dr. CuteGrannyPants and voila – I have grandparents.

Sometimes my fantasy grandparents are on TV. The Empire Carpet guy throws me into a titter induced coma when I hear his melodic voice flow out of the tube and into my cold grandparentless heart. I am not sure what he looks like (since he is a cartoon now), but I could pick out that voice in a lineup if I needed to.

I wanted to find a clip of his voice... here he is in person in 1995. Just listen to it and imagine it 12 years older reading you a bedtime story... zzzzzz


I love his voice almost as much as I love my beloved Morgan Freeman’s voice.

Ah Morgan Freeman… I would have you read me the instructions of a suppository package if it would mean your dulcet and wise tones would invade my ears. Titter.


By the way, um Mr. Freeman?

Oh, call you Morgan. *Blush*

Ok, Mo.

Oh, not Mo... you think I went too far. Right.



Anyway...Morgan, I am not implying that I need you to fill the grandparent void. I would actually prefer you in an older, wiser phone sex type of role.

Thanks. Bye.

Tuesday Titter

I love the way people talk.

Since I am from Minnesota by way of Upper Michigan by way of Central Wisconsin, I have developed an accent that is apparent to everyone but me. These three areas of the Midwest are mere hours away from each other, yet there are subtle inflections that distinguish their vocabularies (so people tell me).

For instance, when I am chatting it up with someone from Wisconsin and I inadvertently through no fault of my own say something like:

“What is the big deal…eh?”

The Sconnie roars on the floor with laughter and proceeds to regale me with bad impersonations of The McKenzie Brothers.

Or if I am having an intellectual discussion with a Minnesotan (no that is not an oxymoron!) and say something like this:

“I put my bag near the bubbler.”

I am met with a blank stare. “What is a bubbler?” This is followed by a snicker then a nasal-induced, “baaaaag, you folks from Wisconsin talk so funny.”

Through my job I talk to people from all parts of the accent spectrum and get to hear delicious things like:

"Hi, I din wan choo to thank I was witahded o sunthin’"

However, my absolute favorite is a conversation I had with a grandmother… I could have listened to this woman all day. I cannot give the honey glazed flow of her voice justice here. She had a beautiful southern drawl that made me want to sip chamomile tea while she entertains me with stories using phrases like “lawsy mercy” and “bless her heart”.

"Shooga… you… need… to… slow… it…. down."

Once in awhile I have a little fun with it…

"I can tell you are from the “nort”. (this is said in mock-Canadian-accent) Are you in Canada?

To which I reply, “What are you talking “aboat”… eh? I am from Minn eeee soooo daah”

I also like the way people pronounce things… it makes me titter when Beaner says TORLET instead of toilet. Queenie likes to say NORTH REN, SUTH REN, WEST REN, EAST REN…gotta love them for that (also, don’t hate me) (also, I love you guys) (also, I think it is cute…really) (also, you two are beautiful and intelligent).

My grandparents used to say ZINK instead of sink and WARSHCLOTH instead of washcloth.



One thing I don’t know is… How do you really pronounce caramel?

Tuesday Titter

I love the Office and I love SNL...thank you Rainn Wilson for hosting and for your genius.



I love cowbells and I love SNL... thank you Christopher Walkin for making me titter every single time you do your thang (I meant that to sound pervy).



I love Jimmy Fallon and I love this video... thank you Jimmy, I quoted and hummed that intro for weeks garnering looks from strangers.

Tuesday Titter

For a total package of titter inducing joy...you need to hit play and turn your speakers up. Trust me, you will titter. You will boogie. You will cry out for more (a little bit more). You will immediately go to your nearest Target for some rouge and panty liners.




If you are playing this commercial, you must be dancing. You can not sit still when this commercial is on! Seriously, you can’t… if you are able to resist its grasp, you should sign up for the bomb squad. They totally need people with your resolve and steady hands.

It takes hold of your dancy parts and makes them gyrate and wriggle uncontrollably!

I am barely getting through writing this post… there goes the leg…trying to resist… trying… it is jutting upwards uncontrollably in a white-girl-staccato-kick into the air… watch out Static… it is out of control…there goes my left hand… typing now with the right…

Are you dancing yet? If not, you should go right now to Buckingham Palace. They will hire you on the spot for your will power alone to stand guard for them as hoards of tourists try to make you flinch. I mean it, if you can defy the laws of dance in this way, you may as well call Guinness and see if you break the world record for sitting still because this tune means business. Honestly, if you can make it through this entire commercial without getting jiggy, you should consider a career in brain surgery because you must have no dancy parts.

A little bit more…little bit more… don’t you just love it?