Various, Sundry Stuff That I Feel COMPELLED to Discuss OR WTH, Let It Rip and Not In a Bad Way (HIM Said, 'Pull My Finger!')

Warning: This is a truly silly blog.  My mind just went wherever the hell it wanted to go.  So if you don't have a sense of humor, you shouldn't read this.  Stop before it's too late.  Whoops.  Now you've done it.

Have a great Independence Day!  I'm pretty sure there were fat women in the Revolutionary War.  They were cooking.  Or doing something equally interesting.  Spying maybe.  Definitely nagging.  ("I want tea.  And independence.  Those English guys who live in our house are really annoying me.  Do something.")

I'm not being disrespectful.  It's just that I'm CERTAIN
there was an unappreciated Fat Woman somewhere
in the Revolutionary War and I feel compelled to
make note of it.

That being said, it's a great day to just write about whatever topic floats through my mind.  I'm exercising the rights that a bunch of really great people fought and died over.  And besides, sometimes I just let things rip, because it's fun and because you never know what might pop out.  (That's how I come up with some my best novels.)

For those of you who don't keep up with my blog, (go and read some of it,it's
terribly funny, you might shoot peas out of your nose) this is another
dig at my sister's cat.  Her name (the cat) is Mellow and I'm pretty
sure she's all about Independence Day.  Especially for the
liberation of tuna fish cans.

So those of you who are still with me, get ready for an immediate change in the direction of my thinking.  Here goes.  Recently I ranted about my least favored neighbor and forgot to do an illustration of this person.  There it is, in full Fat Woman Melodrama.  (Of course, when someone else does it, it's pronounced Dram-a.  Long a.  Get it right.  If I do it, it's drama, short a.  If this person does it, it's Dram-a.  Long a.  Big difference.  Plus it's my blog and I can say what I want to as long as I don't defame anyone.)  (Celebrities and politicians do not count.  Godzilla sucks toes.  The Vice President thinks about gay men in bathrooms.  I'm pretty sure.  I'd like to see him prove that he doesn't think about it, and if he wasn't thinking about it, he is now, especially after he read this.  Sorry Joe, it had to be said.  Incidentally, does that mean that  he's a bad VP?  No, but it does mean that I'm completely messed up sometimes.  Okay, the VP really DOES NOT think about gay men in bathrooms.  Maybe he thinks about polka dotted underwear.)  Anyway back to my artistic vision.

I love Autodesk Sketchbook.

So where is my mind leading me?  (I warned you.  Silliness involved.  It's not too late for those of you without any sense of humor to click on the big red X in the upper right hand corner.)  You were warned.  (You have to hear the audio voice of doom in your head.  Yooooouuuu....weeeeeeerrreeee.....waaaaaaarrrrnnneddddd....)

Thought shift coming!  Here it comes.  My garden has turned into a pumpkin patch.  There's a lesson in there.

These are growing in my garden.  And well, it's taken over the garden.  It's
about to hit the neighbor's fence.  Then the world.  But hey, on the
bright side, we'll have lots of pumpkin pie.

The garden was 10X10 feet around.  I allowed HIM and Cressy to pick the seeds.  They came back with like, twenty packages and looked at me funny because I wasn't inclined to plant ALL of the packets in the same 10X10 feet patch of prepared earth.

There were peppers in there somewhere.  Also basil and green onions.  They might be still there, but I'm not going in.  God knows what's under the ginormous leaves.  Could be cannibals.  Could be unicorns.  Could be cannibal unicorns.  (Maybe they taste like chicken.)

And you thought they lived on pixie dust and rainbows.

So I stopped blogging to go to the store to get marinade for the steaks for grilling.  (Who does Independence Day without grilling?  Heathens.  God knows I can't blog without firing up the grill and throwing on some massively proportioned cuts of Angus beef.)  And I couldn't NOT go through the chips and snacks aisle.  (They were calling to me.  "Fat Woman," the chips called.  "Fat Woman!  Come and buy us!  We want to come home with you!  We need you, Fat Woman!")  (I should be banned from there.  Seriously, they should have a sign of me at the end that prohibits me from being within fifty feet of the chips.  They're like kryptonite to me.)  So whilst I was pondering the advantages of plain old chips versus Sour Cream and Onion chips, I found this:

Are you kidding me?  This sounds
gross.  Yucky poo gross.  Gag me
with an old eighties move.

But then I looked further and here this was:

If you want steak flavor, why not, oh, say,
EAT a freaking steak.  Not steak flavored
potato chips.

Incidentally, people look at you very strangely when you take pictures of food with your Droid.

But then I saw this.  This was the one that made my normally chip-eating-like-a-fool stomach say, "WTF, over?":

This is what I call grossinating.  It's so gross but
you can't look away because it's
also fascinating.  I swear I didn't buy
this.  Who thinks of these things?

So let's just say that Independence Day rocks.  I'm glad for all my constitutionally guaranteed rights that enable me to let my odd, little mind wander wherever it likes to gambol.  I sincerely hope that you all feel the same.  I'll end with a quote that particularly moved me:

There, I guess King George will be able to read that.
                                                  -   John Hancock
On signing the American Declaration of Independence.