I’m sure I’ve mentioned somewhere in previous posts that I’m a New Englander, but unless you’re from here you can’t really comprehend the significance of that statement. New Englanders wear their citizenship like a badge of honor, defining ourselves not by our individual states but by our geographical region, much the same way someone from Scotland or Ireland would define themselves by their family, or clan.
So to help all of you southern, inland and west coasters out there understand the Clan New England, I’m going to break it down with a metaphorical example. Imagine a Thanksgiving day dinner table, and at one end you have:
This is grandpa. He doesn’t do or say much, and he’s been around so long you almost forget he’s there. Oh, and he doesn’t have teeth. Next to him is:
This is the oldest son, the one who went off all gung-ho to Vietnam and came back disillusioned and pissed. He rides a Harley and defends his right to not pay taxes. He’ll school you on the history of any firearm known to man, whether you ask him to or not. When he’s not at Laconia for bike week he’s at a Knights of Columbus meeting. He earns his money either by being a trucker, mechanic or working construction. And his wife is Asian. Always. Next to him is:
No one gets under New Hampshire’s tough leather skin quite like Vermont. Part hippie poser, part Phish fan, all organic NPR listening Vermont. He’s college educated, usually earning a degree in either history or philosophy, which makes him an expert on EVERYTHING. He’ll chastise you for driving anything other than a Prius and is forever preaching the evils of pop culture. The only reason he owns a television is to watch PBS, and he’s married to a girl from:
The oldest daughter of a respectable family, make no mistake she is Vassar bound. When she’s not out shopping for argyle socks she’s sticking a finger down her throat or sneaking out to heavy metal concerts to bang tattooed pretty boys on motorcycles. I’m guessing. Next to her is:
He’s the red-headed step child; New England’s own version of Oliver from the Brady Bunch. Our own personal small ball of “why?” And that leads us to the twins. I say twins because this next state is geographically bipolar. Divided by the city of Worcester (pronounced WOOS-tuh), their personalities are as oppositional as any two children could ever be. And that state is:
The child west of Worcester is the girl twin. She’s well-adjusted and lacking in any definable accent. She knows what she wants and that is to GET THE HELL OUT OF NEW ENGLAND. The twin east of Worcester is the boy twin, the one who calls you at 2 a.m. to come bail him out of jail because he:
A. Gave a Yankees fan a beat down.
B. Defended his position that Manhattan clam chowder is, by definition, not a chowder.
C. Beat someone who said something disparaging about Aerosmith or Godsmack or Denis Leary.
He’s the guy who doesn’t actually live anywhere; he just floats from couch to couch to couch. He borrows your car without your permission, drinks all your beer and steals your stuff. And even though you know he’s going to sleep with your girlfriend you let him in your house anyway because he’s just so damned awesome.
Just like any family we fight and spat amongst ourselves, but heaven help the punk who steps to one of us, because then he steps to all of us. Whitey Bulger wouldn’t be Whitey Bulger if he were from the midwest. Well, maybe Kansas. That place is like the friggin’ Twilight Zone. So the next time you cross the border into New England, roll down your windows and listen carefully; you just might hear our siren song:
Anyone who knows me knows that I am an extremely restless individual, and that every now and then I’ve got to switch things up. It could be something as easy as driving a different car for a while, or something as epic as painting my bedroom hot pink.
Since I’ve taken on more hours at work, the switching up has been happening at my desk, or more specifically, my desktop, to the amusement of my many co-workers. So for the amusement of you all, I share with you today a gallery of my ever-changing desktop wallpaper.
Ah…yes. The General Lee. My first love.
Next we have two pics that are the perfect marriage of humor and music, Tenacious D. and Dethklok. If you don’t know who they are, I suggest hitting the Google immediately. If you don’t like them, well…we can’t be friends.
Now we have the two greatest bands I’ve ever had the good fortune of hanging out with backstage. Lit and Godsmack. Boys and their tattoos. Dreamy.
Why Lemmy? Because Lemmy is God, that’s why.
Because I can’t download porn.
Next are two pics of my seldom seen daughter, Babygirl. The one above was taken on Halloween when she was two years-old. Her father wanted her to be a princess, but she wanted to be a “basketball boy.” You see who won. (Yes, that is a regulation sized basketball. She was, and still is, very tiny). The one below was taken in our backyard with my nephew. I plan on writing a story just so I can use that pic as a book cover.
Last but not least, for reasons that I cannot begin to comprehend, my all time favorite desktop wallpaper pic ever!!!!!
Doesn’t this pic just say it all?
All across America families are gathered around their tables in celebration of Thanksgiving; a holiday that commemorates the first harvest of 1621 for the Pilgrims of Plymouth, Massachusetts. Here in New England, the birthplace of Thanksgiving, we honor our forebears by keeping with the tradition of serving turkey, an indigenous bird to this part of the country.
While many of us view turkey as festive holiday fare, there are some who consider our gesture of patronage murder. There is one who goes so far as to call it genocide. Today’s holiday interview is like no other that’s come before, because today we are conducting our interview in a secret hide-out free from the tyranny of New England’s native carnivores. Today we interview Pro-foul resistance leader, Tom Turkey.
Hello, Tom. Forgive me for sounding trite, but how are you doing?
Eat me – that’s how I’m doing. Oh, I’m doing really well. Gobble gobble and shit. I’ve been soaking in this hot tub all day – it smells great, sort of spicy or something. It’s making me hungry! GAH! Wait a minute…
Without revealing too much information, can you explain what is involved in engineering and maintaining an underground system of foul relocation?
Ah yes, the Undergrain Railroad. Well first, some wild turkeys are helping out with that by disguising some of us with camouflage and leaves. Those guys are poultry in motion. Secondly, we eat nothing but donuts and burgers and Cheetos to ensure that even if we’re caught, we’re too fatty to be palatable.
From what your lieutenants tell me you’ve been able to successfully move over one thousand turkeys out of New England to a Vegan commune somewhere in rural California. What are the logistics involved in such a massive migration, and were there any bumps along the way?
Besides these red things, you mean? HA HA! GOL! (Ed. note: gobble out loud) One word: trains. This country hates trains, so it’s easy to sneak on like a bunch of hobos and ride them all across the country. And when we can’t do trains, we ride bears. That’s right, bears! Grizzlies! In return for eating bugs. They hate bugs.
Have there ever been any close calls?
Yes there have – hunters. Those damned turkey calling things are like a siren song to some of us. Some of us are really fucking stupid, and when they hear one of those things go off, they go running out, and BLAM! Though this one time, one of our boys was able to get someone shot in the face. Hilarious!
And there was that one time when someone got a little smart for her own good, and read a map, and saw this country called… you know. She put the wrong two with the wrong two and got… well, eaten.
What would you like to see the Obama administration do in the form of policies that would make hiding out unnecessary?
Useless, Hellis. Useless. It’s already been tried. Over 200 years ago, we started a grassroots whisper campaign to get Benjamin Franklin to make the turkey the national bird. We would have been set FOREVER! But that idiot ran out in a rain storm and got shocked, and he was never the same. We couldn’t even get him on the ballot. Eventually, he went to France. Yeah, France. I know, right! Gobbledammed eagles swooped up and took the bird prize. They’re endangered, of course, but no one is eating them, are they.
More than just winning sovereignty for the Turkey population, you’ve been quoted as stating you’d like to see the Thanksgiving holiday abolished altogether. What in particular about Thanksgiving (other than turkey consumption) do you find distasteful?
Cranberry sauce. Terrible stuff. Oh, and those hand thingies, where human children trace their hands and pretend they’re turkeys? What the hell – those look nothing like us.
What’s your opinion on Turduken?
Well, I’ve stuffed a duck AND a chicken before, if you know what I’m saying, and I’ve seen ducks and chickens having some fun, but… yeah… this is just sick.
Finally, where do you see yourself in the future?
President of Mars, which will be renamed Turkopolis. It will also be renicknamed The Red Thingie Planet.
“It was an historic election day for the state of New Hampshire. NH has become the first state to elect an all female congressional delegation and governor. Granite State voters selected democrats for all of the top offices. Our four electoral votes have been awarded to President Obama.” - WMUR NEWS
SUCK IT BOYS!!!
Readers, today I have a better-late-than-never interview for you, and of course nature weighed in on this one. Interestingly, I had an interview set up with none other than Christopher Columbus that coincided with Columbus Day, but Hurricane Sandy had a voice in this. Mr. Columbus, welcome!
C.C.: Caio! I mean, hello!
H.E.: There is great debate about what your real motivations were for risking lives to discover the New World. Can you comment on what you were really thinking back there in Spain?
C.C.: I wassa thinking that Isabella was a pretty nice lady. What can I do? My blood, she is Italian.
H.E.: Were there any dangerous points along the way that made you consider turning back?
C.C.: Some of the sailors, they…weren’t lookin’ so good. Some of them even say I looka nice for a man. I think to myself, “Eh, Christoph…you need to find these men some women quick.” I say a little prayer and then boom- we finda land. I’mma one lucky sonafabitch.
H.E.: Rumor has it that you were in fact lost on your first trip, yet you are hailed as a navigational genius. Any comment on that apparent disparity of opinion?
C.C.: Hey…that’s some a pretty bigga words coming from someone who needs a the GPS to find her way out of the shower.
H.E.: You probably also have heard some of the racier rumors about shipboard life involving grog, sodomy and the lash. For a curious world, Chris, sheep or no sheep? Or was this a don’t ask/don’t tell situation?
C.C.: Hey…what’s a matta you? That’s not a polite. I will say this- they don’ta call them a “Seamen” for nothing.
H.E.: Obviously a lot has changed. On that note, America back then, or America now – which do you like better?
C.C.: That’s a easy – America today! They have a holiday justa for me!
H.E.: Okay, so if you had to do it all over again, what would you choose to do differently?
C.C.: Turna left.
H.E.: To wrap this up, Chris, your thoughts on the holiday in your honor?
C.C.: It’s lika my mama used to say, “All good things come from Italy.”
I’d like to take a moment to step outside of the humor box and use my blog post today as an opportunity to spread awareness for a cause I truly believe in.
There comes a time in the lives of all bloggers when we find a need to step back and reflect on our journey through the virtual utopia that is Blogworld. Some of us have come here to broaden our horizons and to find inspiration within the photo or travel blogs that pepper the Freshly Pressed page. Many of us find comfort and community amongst the animal lover or mommy blogs of WordPress. Still others use their blog to extract humor from the banality of the workday life and to share their plight with the blog world around them.
But once in a great while there comes a blogger who stands out among the rest- a blogger who effortlessly straddles the line between tragedy and comedy. A blogger who bucks convention with his often times controversial opinions on the validity of religion or the sanctity of marriage or the awesomeness of Star Trek. A blogger who challenges the status quo, strives to enlighten both men and women alike, and who boldly laughs in the face of clowns.
It is this singular blogger who I believe can deliver us all into an era of change and lead us down a path of righteousness and light. That is why I, Hellis of Bloggerland, am asking its citizens for their support and their vote for EDWARD HOTSPUR as champion of the BLOGGER IDOL contest.
“Amongst the weeds of the world, a flower grows…”
CAST YOUR VOTE FOR EDWARD HOTSPUR HERE:
WEDNESDAY! WEDNESDAY! WEDNESDAY!
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WITNESS THE SPECTACLE THAT IS DESTINED TO BE KNOWN AS THE DUEL OF THE CENTURY! WATCH IN AMAZEMENT AS BLOGWORLDS’ OWN LILY-LADEN LOTHARIO EDWARD HOTSPUR MATCHES WITS WITH THE ENIGMATIC CLOWN PRINCE HIMSELF- LE CLOWN IN A DUEL SO INTENSE IT’S SURE TO MAKE HAMILTON AND BURR LOOK LIKE A SLAP FIGHT!
BUT WAIT…THERE’S MORE!!!
WATCH AS TEAM EDWARD’S OWN LOVELY AND TALENTED GINGERSNAAP OF OHMYGODJUSTDOWHATISAY FAME, FLANKED BY THE VERY HANDSOME EL GUAPO FACE-OFF AGAINST LE CLOWN’S OWN WORDSMITH EXTRODINAIRES MADAME WEEBLES AND SPEAKER 7.
The winning topics:
- Furries (fetish), suggested by Carrie Rubin (16 votes);
- Group Sex in Retirement Adult Community, suggested by Rutabaga (10 votes);
- Protection Identities, suggested by The Ringmistress (9 votes).
The face-offs will be as follow:
- September 19 – Furries: Ginger Snaap VS Speaker7;
- September 20 – Protection Identities: El Guapo VS Madame Weebles;
- September 21 - Group Sex in Retirement Community: Edward VS Le Clown.
All posts written by Team Iron Gonads of Iron Fire will be published on Le Clown‘s blog; posts from Team Dachshund will be published on Edward‘s blog. Winners will be crowned by the amount of LIKES each post will get. So you, readers, will have the final say as to who’s this blogosphere’s force to be reckoned with.
TICKETS AVAILABLE FOR THE EPIC BATTLE ROYALE AT THE DOOR FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY!!!
THEY’LL SELL YOU A SEAT BUT YOU’LL ONLY NEED THE EDGE….
In an effort to promote my latest work entitled REAPERS WITH ISSUES I’ve decided to devote the next four days to interviewing my favorite middle management employees, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
We’ll begin the first of our interviews with the man beneath the cloak. We’ll discuss what it’s like working for God, his views on intra-office politics and yes, even his love life.
Today I sit down with none other than Death himself, THE GRIM REAPER.
HE: Good morning, Grim. How was your trip to Earth?
GRIM: Fine, I suppose, considering I traveled here by bus. Wouldn’t you know I sat next to a guy who had just come from an Oktoberfest somewhere. Nothing like sitting next to a fat man with bratwurst farts.
HE: Bus?? But I thought you were one of the Four HORSEmen?
GRIM: You’re right; I am, but since God promoted Gabriel to Head of the Archangel Board our department’s equine budget has been “reallocated” south, if you know what I mean.
HE: South? Are you talking about Hell?
GRIM: Look, I don’t want to be the guy who trash talks other department heads, but between you and me let’s just say that Lucifer’s productivity doesn’t jive with the funds flowing his way. It’s good to have a big brother in high places is all I’ve got to say on the matter.
HE: Alright, moving on. What confounds you most about mortals?
GRIM: I’d have to say it’s your obsession with your appearance. A mortal’s lifespan is over in a flash, and yet you feel the need to spend your money on useless beauty procedures. If you only knew what you looked like without your skin, you wouldn’t bother. Trust me.
HE: Where is your favorite place to reap?
GRIM: Canada. The friendliest mortals come from there. The beer’s not bad either, eh?
HE: If you were mortal, what job would you want to have?
GRIM: Gloucesterman, hands down. Nothing sounds better to me than a solitary life of peace and tranquility on the sea. Plus all you can eat lobster. Hmm…pass the buttah.
HE: Has a mortal ever escaped you?
GRIM: Never. Although over the years Dick Clark has given me the slip a couple of times.
HE: What’s the most negative aspect of wearing a meat suit?
GRIM: Meat suits are extremely high maintenance. I’ve yet to find one that didn’t have something wrong with it. They’re hot, they leak and they fall apart easily. And did I mention the smell?
HE: Is it hard working for God?
GRIM: God? Uh…no, not really. I’d say the biggest problem is working for the idiots he puts in charge; namely his sons. They bicker constantly; spend money on themselves, barely show up to work and help themselves to the Heavenly budget just to name a few things. Not to mention that each one thinks he’s the boss when the Big Man’s not around. Typical family business horseshit. Oops! Sorry…horse-puckies.
HE: Is Lucifer as bad as they say?
GRIM: Only if you are a mortal. I was reaping amoebas while he was still in his Father’s good graces, so he’s not too intimidating to me. He’s sort of like a splinter, not lethal- but irritating.
HE: What do you have to say about the Mayans?
GRIM: One of Lucifer’s practical jokes. Just ignore him or he’ll keep it up.
HE: Your dream date is?
GRIM: A certain special lady, a certain Latin meat suit, and a month in the Bahamas. In fact I’m leaving on a trip there as soon as I’m finished with this interview.
HE: Beatles or Elvis?
HE: Favorite sports team?
GRIM: Anyone but the Raiders. Those a-holes don’t know when to die.
HE: Where do you see yourself in five years?
GRIM: If all goes to plan, running my department. I recently managed to cut loose some dead weight so I think things should be running smoothly once I get back from the Bahamas.
HE: What would mortals be most surprised to learn about you?
GRIM: That I have feelings just like everyone else. Being Death isn’t easy, you know. Please don’t fear me.
Thanks for stopping by and visiting with the Grim Reaper. Tune in Tuesday when we sit down with the Horseman better known as Famine, followed by Pestilence on Wednesday and War on Thursday. Stick around this weekend when we’ll be sitting down to chat with some of the upper (and lower) members of the Office of Heavenly Affairs. Until then, stay well avoid the Reaper!
TODAY IS THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF MY BLOG! TO COMMEMORATE THIS AUSPICIOUS OCCASION I HAVE DECIDED TO RERUN MY VERY FIRST BLOG POST.
PLEASE TO ENJOY…
So yeah, I wrote a book.
I must have been high when I wrote it because there’s no other explanation I can give for my 120,000 word upper YA novel where the only noun I used more than “boner” was “blood.” It goes without saying that I’m self-published. I didn’t even try to submit it traditionally. Can you just imagine the poor agent who gets my query letter?
“My novel, THE GODS OF ASPHALT is complete at 120,000 words and is the first in a series of five books that for some reason I’ve decided to write out-of-order. Each one is told from the point of view of a teenage male protagonist who has exactly zero supernatural powers (unless you consider perpetual erections a superpower). Oh, and it also has Spanish subtitles.”
On the good side, if you’re like me and are just a little too into music, motorcycles and all around badassery this is the book for you. If you’re not, I’m sure Jodi Picoult’s got a blog somewhere. You can find the opening to chapter one at the top of the page under the tab GOA REVIEWS and you can find my book on line at:
February 2012 and yours truly is glued to the television, elbows deep in clam chowda, an ice cold rack a pounders within reach. The iconic opening notes of O Fortuna pour out of the speakers, and like Pavlov’s dog, my heart begins to pound in anticipation. I move closer to the screen just as the unmistakeable sound of Ozzy screaming, “ALL ABOARD “ heralds the moment I’ve been waiting all season for– the moment my beloved New England Patriots take the field for SuperBowl XLVI.
I spend the next hour watching the Pats do what they do best– beat the snot outta anything hailing from New York, all to the tune of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck. Drunk with uber-fandom superiority (and a few Sam Adams), I place a hasty call before the half to brain-dead idiot and lifetime Giants fan, Jeb.
Questions were posed as to how far I might go if the Pats inconceivably lost the SuperBowl, one in particular to involve the possibility of me patronizing another NFL sports team. For life.
Jeb knows me well enough to know that I would never make a bet to become a Giants fan, so he picked the lesser of two evils.
You guessed it. Karma is a Raiders fan. And as of February 5th, so was I.
Let me begin by saying that there are many reasons why I am morally opposed to patronizing a West Coast sports team, the first being that I am, in fact, an East Coaster. I mean, do they even have clam chowder in California? I bet they put pineapple in it, the savages.
Next are their team colors. Silver and Black? Really? My Patriots proudly sport the Red, White, and Blue; clear evidence that to be a Raiders fan is to be unAmerican.
Now, some may argue that the West Coast has superior beer, and I for one would agree. But I would also like to point out to all you West Coasters out there that just like everything else in California, Corona is from Mexico, which means it doesn’t really belong to you. Just ask Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna.
But I think the biggest affront to my senses will be the assault to my ears. Tell me, how in the hell is Godsmack supposed to cover this??
People, it’s going to be a long season.
Oh Sandy, how do we love thee? Let us count the ways…
Have you ever tried to write anything using the letter Y? No? Well there’s a reason for that. After many fruitless hours of finger-fucking the Y key into submission attempting to come up with something pithy to say, I finally gave up and decided to give my pal Sandy a gift that is far more practical. For your birthday I give you…
THE MOST KICK ASS BLOG POST OF SCRABBLE WORD WINNERS EVER!
That’s write er, right Sandy! I’ve compiled a list of the most obscure words ever to use the letter Y, guaranteed to impress naked writing partners or random animals everywhere! We start the list with:
Not only is this word fun to say, but you can convince some of your dumber friends that it means something entirely different, like traditional Mongolian fare or the stuff that comes up after someone sticks a finger down their throat.
YANKEE: Ask someone from Florida what a Yankee is and they will tell you it refers to people originating in the northeastern US, or more narrowly, New England.
Ask any New Englander what a Yankee is and they will describe an athlete of questionable parentage.
YGGDRASIL: An immense tree that is central in Norse cosmology, on which the nine worlds existed.
Keep a dictionary handy when playing scrabble with some of your blonder friends, as you may have to argue that this word does not indeed define what a gynecologist often prescribes.
SYZYGY: A straight line configuration of three or more celestial bodies.
The Scrabble word to beat all Scrabble words, syzygy is guaranteed to take home the win. Prepare to be worshiped, for you are now a Goddess.
SANDY: A woman of extraordinary talent and unlimited creativity who brings joy and happiness to any life she touches. See: Sunshine.
FOR ALL THE WAYS THAT SANDY IS AWESOME, GO BACK AND START FROM THE BEGINNING:
TO WISH SANDY A HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLICK THE CAKE!
Now take it away, Danny Zuko!
Hellis here, taking a moment out of my marathon writing experiment to lament on the trade of my beloved Steve Nash to the L.A. Lakers. Maybe I’m dizzy from all my writing or maybe I’m just in mourning but I simply have to ask…
Yes, there is the whole 27 million dollar contract thing and yes, L.A. is where his children live, but I still maintain he needs to get his priorities straight. Doesn’t he know I live in New England? I mean, how bad are the Celtics, really? And to make matters worse, I lost a bet to my buddy Jeb when the Pats lost the Superbowl, so now I have to be a Raiders fan of all things. I CANNOT root for another West Coast sports team. Imagine the horror!!
Please Steve Nash, say it ain’t so…
First there was elementary school where he was expelled from Kindergarten for setting off the fire alarm and causing the Fire Department to respond not once, not twice, but three times in one week. Somebody wanted to take a ride on the engine.
The next eight years were a blur of parent-teacher meetings and organized after school activities, all designed to burn off his excess energy. You can imagine how ecstatic his father and I were when he managed to graduate from the eighth grade and went on to play high school football.
High school brought new concerns in the form of girls. “Prince Charming” isn’t a name I came up with– it was bestowed upon him by his female classmates who responded to his reputation for being gentlemanly. You better believe I take full credit for teaching him that.
And while Prince Charming was a great kid he struggled academically and worked for every grade he got. Everyday his father and I worked right along side him to get him where he needed to go. When he took that walk up to the podium to accept his diploma, there wasn’t a dry eye in our family. My son has come a long way from the first time we held him to letting him go today.
To the right is the first picture I ever took of my son Michael (he’s a man now so I guess I can say his name). The picture is of him with his father at three days old (Yeah, I’m onto you, HR. Don’t think I didn’t notice you wearing my Doctor Feelgood concert tee shirt. I knew you had it!)
It’s kind of frightening to think that my son is older today than HR was in this picture. Both HR and I take pride in raising a kid who made better choices than we did. We can only hope to say the same thing about Junior someday. Yeah, I’m not holding my breath.
*** CONGRATULATIONS MICHAEL ***
Sadly I have reached the end of The Hellis 100 series. What was supposed to be an exercise in creative writing has turned out to be the typical mish-mash of utter nonsense and verbal shenanigans that readers have come to expect in my blog posts. So if you clicked here expecting to find more of the same, I invite you to pull up a chair and prepare to be disappointed because I have written a post that scrapes the bottom of the creativity barrel. That’s right folks, I give you:
THE TOP TEN THINGS YOU WISH YOU NEVER KNEW ABOUT H.E. ELLIS
I refuse to be in a room with someone who is drinking milk or eating a bowl of cereal (yes, my poor children ate Cheerios dry). I will gag at the sound of someone slurping milk and vomit the instant I see a milk mustache. I do, however, take cream in my coffee. Can’t explain that.
Yes, I am a total Gothlette. Or at least I was before Twilight fans corrupted the genre. I’ve seen Marilyn Manson in concert more times than I’ve willingly gone to church; I’ve lived in black eyeliner and torn fishnets and have listened to Bauhaus so many times that the words “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” have lost all meaning. Hell, I even married a Vampire. Man it sucks to grow up.
8. I’M OFTEN TOLD THAT THE SEXIEST THING ABOUT ME IS MY VOICE.
Not sure how I feel about that.
Blame it on my strict Catholic upbringing or my even stricter Navy father, but there is just something so unbelievably sexy to me about men and their tattoos. For the record I have exactly zero tattoos. I know, I make no sense.
6. I CAN RIDE ROLLERCOASTERS ALL DAY LONG, BUT I WILL THROW UP IF I GO ON KIDDIE RIDES THAT TURN IN A CIRCLE.
5. I AM AL PACINO’S COUSIN.
Somehow…distantly… Al Pacino and I are related. He has no idea I exist. He and my daughter have the same eyes.
4. I DON’T EAT ITALIAN FOOD, SODA OR ANYTHING THAT CONTAINS SUGAR.
Yeah, I’ll admit it. I don’t much like pasta; I abhor anything fizzy and I absolutely DESPISE cookies. Let the lynching begin.
3. I CAN DO AMAZING TRICKS WITH MY TONGUE.
Yeah, it’s not as awesome as it sounds.
They are English, French, German, Italian, Korean, Russian and Spanish.
1. I AM A CLOSET BAD MOVIE/TELEVISION JUNKIE.
I never miss an episode of Vampire Diaries (DAMON!) and I’ve seen Freddy Got Fingered so many times I can quote it in my sleep. Don’t you judge me.
*** So tell me, Ms. Ross, what was it like being raised in a strict religious household?
As I was growing up, I never noticed that anything was amiss with regards to my religious upbringing. I was taught the ways of God and that to stray from them was a sin. It was until I met John that perhaps there was something more to life than praying and confession.
*** It seems you were quite the rebellious young woman. Tell us about your early love affair and your elopement with your husband, John.
I must point out, H.E., that I detest the word “rebellious”. I prefer the term “incorrigible.” No one has ever made me do something I didn’t want to do, and once I set my mind to do something, I do it, no matter what the reaction. That includes my elopement with John. My family was so upset I was excommunicated from our Quaker community. But every decision I made was worth it, because John was my one true love, and anyway, who could pass up the amazing honeymooning sex?
*** After John was killed in battle you went on to marry two more times which was nearly unheard of during the early 1700′s. How do you attribute your success in finding men?
I must be honest when I say that I’m not sure what it is that attracted all the men to me. I suppose my breasts may have had something to do with it, and my obnoxious need for love and affection…
*** I am going to quote Wikipedia here: “There is speculation that Betsy was the “beautiful young widow” who distracted Carl von Donop in Mount Holly, New Jersey, after the Battle of Iron Works Hill, thus keeping his forces out of the Battle of Trenton.” What was it like being so desirable that you potentially altered the future of a nation?
Women have been the cause for wars and the downfalls of countries for centuries. Just look at Helen of Troy. The main thing is to not let it go to your head.
*** Where did you get the idea for the design of the American Flag?
Well, I will let you in on a little secret here. I’m into S&M a bit, and I was asked to design the flag right before I had a more than satifying… encounter. There was blood striping my freshly-washed white sheets, and that’s where the idea for the stripes came from. The stars I thought of because I tried to think of the most beautiful and sparkly thing I could think of to represent each state of glittery happiness our country had. Voila!
*** If you hadn’t made the flag, what would you like to have made instead?
If I hadn’t made the flag, I probably would have designed amazing satiny dresses for prostitutes, so as to give them a semblance of class.
*** What’s history’s biggest misconception about Betsy Ross?
The biggest misconception? ALL women who misbehave are misconceived. You know what they say- “Well-behaved women rarely make history.” I guarantee you wouldn’t be interviewing me if I had remained a Quaker. XOXO
YAY!!! I MADE IT!!!
THE ADVENTURES OF HELLIS IN BLOGGERLAND
Judging from the actors, your movie is a rom-com-buddy cop movie, with Edward Hotspur as the alien no one understands. Hilarity ensues as Edward, separated from the mother ship, is lost and adrift in dark foreboding Canadia. Kayjai, president of Canadia, takes pity on him and drives him (in a fast car, and apparently very few clothes) southeast to the wilds of New England, where for some reason, his gadgets are telling him to go.
Trask Avenue, a member of Canadia’s equivalent of the CIA (the dreaded MSF – Moose Syrup Fanatics), follows in hot pursuit. At the border, bored Border Guard, El Guapo, decides to leave his job and accompany the two star-crossed travellers on their journey. At one point, he distracts Trask from his pursuit while Kayjai and Hotspur escape. He is last seen (until the finale) telling a confused Trask (who has just arrested him) “Hey, if you can’t beat em, confuse em!”
Our story continues through the wilds of Nebraska and Ohio. They stop off at an empty diner, run by BestBathroomBooks for some food. He dispenses wit and wisdom along with hot coffee and huevos rancheros. They continue on their drive, stopping at an Ohio crossing to let the freight train pass. A badass in a mustang pulls up, none other than GingerSnaap. Hotspur reminds her of the frog who done her wrong (no, really, an actual frog) all those years ago, and there is a spectacular heart stopping chase through the cornfields (are there cornfields in Ohio?) of Ohio.
Kayjai and Hotspur manage to escape, heading east toward the dawning of a new day. They are exhausted and pull over to rest. While sleeping, Kayjai is visited by Sandylikeabeach, who sums up what has already happened, and hints about what may happen next – but she does it all in one long sentence that even includes her trademarked asides. And it’s all in Charo’s voice!!! (Seriously, this is my favorite scene of the movie!)
As they come out of the wilds and into the bigger cities, Trask Avenue is closing in. But Hotspur uses his magic to convince unbelievably sexy companions Sparklebumps and Megan that he is the good guy. They use their not inconsiderable wiles to slow down Trask while Kayjai and Hotspur escape.
Finally, closing in on the snow filled bus lots of New England, the two stop at the tire yard, and ask a shirtless, sweaty HR Nightmare (wearing a green shoulder mounted bikini thong)(because that’s how he rolls) where they can find the magic moose of Massachusetts – which is the only thing that can save Hotspur now.
(Sorry – earths environment is slowly killing Hotspur. What? I’m sitting at my desk writing this thing, cut me some slack. We good? Ok, moving on.)
HR points down a snow filled trail. Kayjai slowly eases the car down the path. We see Trask (in his gov’t issue Crown Victoria) speeding toward them. In the back seat, El Guapo rises, swinging a ski pole at the back of Trasks head. Trask yanks the wheel and Guapo flies out of the car, landing on a plank and, with a “WOOHOO” snowboards into the distance.
But while Trask was distracted, a blue Charger comes rocketing along the road. “SHINY!!!” bellows GingerSnaap, as she races along, bumping mercilessly into Trask in an attempt to drive him off the road. BestBathroomBooks, in the car with her, calmly calls out reasons to Trask why he should surrender. Trask grits his teeth and continues pounding down the road.
Into a clearing.
Where Sparklebumps, Sandylikeabeach and Megan all dance gracefully on an empty patch of land.
A bright light suddenly engulfs the beautiful ladies as Kayjai and Hotspur glide to a halt, Trask pulling up behind them. Arms spread, Hotspur steps into the circle of light, as Trask raises his gun. Sparklebumps flashes him to distract him, but surprisingly, that only works for a moment. Hotspur turns, and in the language of his people, yells “Unicorn! Palindrome lyric poem! Innuendo!”
Trasks weapon flies from his hand, and bewildered, he, with everyone else, watch the circle of bright light condense into a pinpoint beam of rainbow as Hotspur floats gently up to the mothership.
Kayjai strolls over to Trask. “For fucks sake.” she says.
Trask raises an eyebrow.
Apologies to everyone slandered in this, and if you’ve made it this far, next round is on me. Really, you earned it.
One of the ideas I’ve tossed around lately is taking up the challenge of writing a screenplay. But what to write about? A movie about life in New England? A story about growing up with my Italian mother? Who knew it would be a trip to my Site Stats page and a view of my top commentors that would inspire my latest, greatest idea. I give you…
THE TOP TEN COMMENTORS AND THE ACTORS WHO PORTRAY THEM IN MY SCREENPLAY…
HELLIS IN BLOGGERLAND
It goes without saying that since I don’t know anyone personally, my “dreamcast” will be comprised of actors who I believe best reflect the bloggers’ particular personality traits and not necessarily what they look like. Now let’s start the list with:
10. BESTBATHROOMBOOKS to be played by Hugh Jackman
Who better to play Les the Great than Hugh Jackman? Both are smart, witty and so very likable. The only question is, does Les dance?
9. KAYJAI to be played by Cameron Diaz
Specifically, BAD TEACHER Cameron. Who better to do both Kayjai and the word “Fuck” justice?
8. TRASK AVENUE to be played by Kenneth Branagh
Kenneth Branagh has the talent and ability to go from a man of great intellect to a dastardly villain in very few words. Like John, I’d pay money to watch Branagh fold towels or write a clever blog.
7. GINGERSNAAP to be played by Sandra Bullock
Quirky, fun and self-deprecating, Sandra Bullock is the perfect fit for everyone’s favorite bloggirl next door.
6. SANDYLIKEABEACH to be played by Charo
Not only is Charo a feisty Latin Superstar, but she’s the best choice to play someone who’s bright, bubbly and sexier than twice the women half her age.
5. EL GUAPO to be played by Mark Ruffalo
The consummate Everyman, both Mark and El Guapo are proof that Nice Guys really do get the girl.
4. SPARKLEBUMPS to be played by Marilyn Monroe
Was there ever any doubt that the world’s most famous sex kitten would play our girl Sparkles? Men everywhere know why.
3. VERYNORMAL to be played by Emma Stone
No one pulls off both Badass Chick and Sweetie Pie better than Emma. Sounds like a British somebody else I know.
2. HR NIGHTMARE to be played by Joe Manganiello
Obviously I know what HR looks like, so when I thought about who should play him in my movie I couldn’t pass up True Blood’s own Alcide (don’t believe what he says about the muscles, ladies. It’s the hair and beard that does it). Like Alcide, HR sports a perpetually pissed off look on his face, not to mention that after a lifetime of being harassed about his Transylvanian roots he absolutely despises Vampires. That means the number one top Hellis commentor is….
EDWARD HOTSPUR to be played by Ruki
Followers of Edward Hotpsur’s blog know of his love of visual kei music and specifically of the band, The GazettE. What you may not know is how similar the lead singer Ruki is to our own EH. Both are creative, enigmatic, genuine and self-aware. Both have amassed quite a following despite never trying to be mainstream and have elevated what they do to an artform. And from what I hear they both have Discharge.
So there it is, people; HELLIS IN BLOGGERLAND. Coming soon to a blog near you!
My real world life is such a circus that at times I find it hard to believe it’s not really some pre-scripted reality show set to make higher powers roar with laughter. Don’t believe me? Well here’s an example:
A family of five strolls down the fairway of carnival. The smell of fried dough and the musical stylings of a local garage band permeate the warm night air. In the lead is youngest daughter BabyGirl, holding a rainbow flashing scepter and donning a white fringed cowboy hat won for her by her father. Following closely is oldest son Prince Charming, angst-ridden, attempting his best Edward Cullen impression. Last in line is middle child, Junior. All are walking at a leisurely pace through the crowd until…
ENTER THE CATALYST:
Suddenly, to the horror of the parents, the first few notes of Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline pour out of the large speakers framing the stage behind them. Both adults catch each others gaze, knowing full well what’s to come.
As if in a reoccurring nightmare that they are powerless to stop, mother and father turn slowly to look at Junior who himself is staring at Prince Charming, his eyes wild with evil contemplation. In slow motion the father reaches out for Junior as the mother shouts, “NOOO!”
But it is too late.
Charging forward, Junior snatches BabyGirl’s hat off her head, places it on his own and begins to dance, bump and grind style against the side of his much older, much larger brother’s leg. The howls of laughter from passers-by do not deter Junior, and this brave soldier pushes on, committed to the cause, straight on until the phrase, “touching me, touching you..”
Location: The local Funeral Home….
I have two bucket lists.
One is filled with checkable items such as “Drink a beer at Fenway with Sully Erna” or “Convert a baseball fan from the Yankees to the Red Sox.” The second is a list of things I feel I need to do for others. Most of my second list is filled with volunteer activities that center around my community and my beloved home of New England. Recently I had the opportunity to add a new item to my list, and that item is this:
Honor Flight New England is a non-profit organization created solely to honor America’s veterans for all of their sacrifices. Through generous donations we transport our heroes to Washington, D.C., to visit and reflect at their memorials AT NO COST TO THE VETERAN. Top priority is given to the senior veterans – World War II survivors, along with those other veterans who may be terminally ill. Donations to Honor Flight New England can be made by credit card from our website. You may also donate by mail. Please send the donation to:
Honor Flight New England
PO Box 16287
Hooksett, NH 03106
My understanding is that they are also in need of volunteers to chaperone the Veterans on their visits to the Memorials. Due to limited resources funds would not be available to cover the cost of transportation for the volunteers, but anyone within the Washington D.C. area could donate their time and efforts for such a worthy cause. Check out their website for more information.
A very odd thing has happened to my blog over the past month or so. Ever since the Super Bowl the hits on my New England Dissected post have gone through the roof. It seemed like every time I checked my stats someone was feeding “New England” into a search engine until I finally reached 1,002 views. How could that be possible, you ask? Check out the stat just below it.
I figured since my son, Prince Charming spent five years as a middle linebacker he’d have plenty to say on the matter. But when I asked him how he felt about what the Giants did to snake the win from the Patriots all he had to say was, “Dumb luck.”
Now, what you may not know about Prince Charming is that he isn’t a Patriots fan. He isn’t a fan of any team for that matter; he’s a football fan. So instead I asked him if he were a NFL coach, what would he be saying to his team day one next season. His answer? “Don’t underestimate The Raiders.”
For a more in-depth analysis of the game, stop by THE THROWDOWN
One of the things I love best about SPaM is helping writers promote their books. This week’s featured work, SKINNY WHITE WOMAN is “a self-reflective memoir about what it means to follow a modern-day spiritual path, Skinny White Woman is a raw and unrefined look at the human journey to find the spirit within.”
Welcome to SPaM author and teacher Stasia Minkowsky.
**** 1. Give us a brief over view of your book, SKINNY WHITE WOMAN.
Skinny White Woman is an unconventional look at following a modern-day spiritual path. It tracks five-plus years of my life…. from my days using drugs and alcohol to my vulnerabilities in early sobriety and following the Native American spiritual path on the ‘Rez to eventually learning how to hold sacred space for others who are seeking their own spiritual journey. What you will not find? Perfect spiritual teachers, a perfect spiritual path nor me getting married and living happily ever after. Unlike many current books about spirituality, I wanted to give a more realistic view on how challenging changing one’s entire life can be. And challenging for reasons one might not think of… for instance, it was more challenging to deal with my own cravings for cigarettes, men, drugs and alcohol than it was for me to be buried in a hole for two days, starving and fasting. My biggest obstacle was frequently my own mind and negative, obsessive compulsive thoughts. I wanted to shine a light on this to help people not feel so alone in their journey.
**** 2. How has your personal experiences influenced your writing?
Since this book is a memoir, every relevant personal experience during this period of time in my life is in there. When I first started this journey, I looked for spiritual books to inspire me but had a difficult time finding any that I could relate to. Many books discussed giving up drugs and alcohol and I thought, “How the hell did they do that so effortlessly?” I started drinking very young and had been checking out for years. To give up my one coping mechanism in order to find something greater sounded ridiculous. Also, I was disillusioned by the idea of these perfect spiritual teachers that I never seemed to meet. Where was my Mr. Miyagi?
**** 3. What was your greatest challenge in writing this book?
Obviously, low finances and living off credit cards to write and support myself was a challenge. But the greatest? Probably writing about some of the most personal things in my life and knowing that someday, I would be making those emotional highs and lows available to the public. Likewise, it was also difficult to live in the present while spending so much time writing about the past. It took me about six years to live this book and six years to write it and get it published.
**** 4. What was the greatest reward?
The greatest reward, thus far, has been listening to the feedback from readers who say that the book has touched their lives and made them think about their life differently. I have really enjoyed listening to all age groups… from the teenagers who say that they can relate to the forty-plus age range who can also relate. I have also loved how the book has crossed gender boundaries. Even though the book is told from a woman’s perspective, my male readers have been surprised by how well they can identify to this very human story.
**** 5. What would you most like people to know about Stasia, the woman?
I am just like everyone else. I showed up on this planet to have the full Earth experience. I never expected it to be so freakin’ challenging. I never expected to be in recovery for drugs and alcohol. I never expected NOT to have my shit together by age 30 (and now I am soon to be 37… ha ha). But, I also never expected to meet so many amazing and loving people who realize that we are all on this human journey together.
**** 6. Do you have other books in the works?
Currently, I am doing what I have always done… keeping journals. This is how I put together Skinny White Woman. There have been years of journals since the ending of this book. Maybe material for a follow-up?
**** 7. What do you hope people will take away from your book?
Inspiration, laughter at the absurdity of it all and the courage to believe in their own journey.
**** 8. Where can people find your book for purchase?
For more enlightenment follow SKINNYWHITEWOMAN
Next week’s SPaM features the lovable LIFEINTHEFARCELANE
For your own feature SPaM contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org
By now most of you have figured out that my three favorite things in life (behind New England sports teams) are music, cars and men. While those three things are fine individually, when I combine them I find myself in trouble. So for the next installment of The Hellis 100 I give you:
THE TOP TEN MUSIC, CARS AND MEN MASH-UPS OF MY LIFE
I’ve decided to divide this list into three categories; accidents ending in hospital transports, angry boyfriend induced recklessness (get used to seeing the letters “HR” here) and sheer stupidity. I’ll start the list with “accidents ending in hospital transports.”
10. HUNG A PINTO IN A TREE
Yes, I really hung a Pinto in a tree while drag racing my boyfriend. But to be honest, it was one of those south Florida scrubby trees so I didn’t catch the epic air you may be thinking I did. I’ll say this for Ford; they did a hell of a job on the ’76 Pinto. That sucker drove away once the Ft. Lauderdale road crews pulled it down. That’s what my boyfriend told me since at the time I was in the hospital getting checked out from the fall I took as I climbed out of the tree. The accident itself didn’t leave a scratch on me. Here’s the song that was playing at the time:
9. PLOWED AN OLDSMOBILE INTO A GUARD RAIL
At first I wasn’t sure if I should include this incident as I wasn’t the one driving, but I decided it qualifies because: A) a boy most DEFINITELY was involved and: B) so was a song; a song that to this day I refuse to listen to while in a car. This highway wipe-out lead to an ER visit and a free pass for my friends and I to screw around in the high school elevator for weeks following. The song involved was:
8. PINNED MYSELF UNDER A KAWASAKI NINJA 750
Ladies, listen up. When your boyfriend tells you that there’s a difference between riding a classic bike and a crotch rocket, listen to him. No matter how bad you want to punch him straight in his cocky face. That’s right, HR. I went there. And while there was no music playing when I dumped this bike, every time I hear this song I think of that night, and remember wondering if the ambulance was going to find me in the middle of nowhere.
Now we’ll move onto “angry boyfriend induced recklessness” with:
7. SUNK A SUZUKI IN A SWAMP
By now you may have noticed that I don’t like admitting when I don’t know how to do something a boy can do; so you can imagine how I handled my boyfriend telling me that men drive stick better than women. For the record, the boyfriend in question wasn’t HR (don’t believe what HR says; I taught him to drive standard). No, this boyfriend was a good ole boy from Tallahassee who just may have been the world’s biggest Hank Williams III fan. Sadly, he was also a Tampa Bay fan (sorry, Dayton). I’ll spare you the gory details of my “didn’t know what he meant by downshift” reaction as I drove straight into the swamp and instead I’ll just say this: I blame Hank.
6. GOT CAUGHT GIVING A HANDJ*B WHILE DRIVING A CARMEN GHIA CONVERTIBLE
Look away, HR. This was before you but after number seven up there. By the time I had the opportunity to drive my then boyfriend Rick’s Carmen Ghia I had learned to drive a standard properly. However, the stick I was handling at the time belonged to his best friend, Raphael. What can I say? Rick pissed me off. I get warm, fuzzy feelings every time I hear this song, as does the Broward County highway patrol; helicopter division.
5. EXPLODED A 4-RUNNER MOTOR INSIDE A TOYOTA CELICA
Alright, so this one may need some explanation. More than anything I love taking big motors and cramming them into small cars (paging Dr. Freud). So for my birthday my then boyfriend (yes, this is you HR) took a Toyota inline six motor normally found in the 4-Runner and dropped it into a 1984 Toyota Celica. For those of you who may not know this equals a whole lot of awesome, considering that my Celica was a rear-wheel drive five speed manual. Talk about a racer’s wet dream. That is until I blew a piston out the side of the engine block. I’ll defer to HR in the comments as to how I managed to do this. I’ll just say he and his boys pissed me off enough to take my anger out while listening to this song. You do the math.
4. STOLE A CORVETTE AND MET A SERIAL KILLER
After my Toyota debacle HR wouldn’t let me near any car he owned, especially his 1978 Silver Anniversary Edition Corvette. It took all of my feminine charms to persuade him to hand over the keys to his beloved Corvette. Alright, the truth is he was passed out cold and I stole them from his back pocket. TomAto, tomato. Needless to say I blew that car to smithereens as well and was offered a ride home from a trucker who I later found out was a wanted murderer. For the whole sordid story, go here. Pantera was the soundtrack to that night:
Now onto “sheer stupidity” with:
3. SPENT THE NIGHT WITH JEB ON A PARTY BUS LOADED WITH HIS STONED WRESTLING BUDDIES AT A MAYHEM CONCERT
Since the statute of limitations has not yet run out on this particular evening, I’ve decided not to tempt the Gods of “dodging a bullet” by declaring how motherf’in awesome that night was. I’ll just state for the record that I was not stoned nor was I driving. What happened to the party bus that night is God’s own personal mystery. I’ll let your imagination wander while you listen to my favorite Godsmack song of all time and the signature song of the evening:
2. BLIND NIGHT ON BALD MOUNTAIN ROAD
Did you ever do something so stupid that even while it was happening you were sure you were going to die? Well I did, and I have assigned that night of stupidity number two on this list. My brother’s best friend Rick (yes, that would be Carmen Ghia Rick) was not yet my boyfriend, but I sure wanted him to be. At the time Rick and my brother lived in Saratoga, New York which is a town with many winding mountain roads including the featured road of the evening, Bald Mountain. So when Rick called from a bar and asked me to drive my drunk ass brother’s car home I jumped at the chance to make time with my future boyfriend.
Then came the dare. The dare to follow Rick home while driving my brother’s Monte Carlo SS.
At 3:00 a.m.
With no headlights.
Yes, the whole “dare” was to see if I could keep up with Rick’s Carmen Ghia while I drove my brother’s Monte Carlo without the headlights on. Now Bald Mountain is a road that my brother described as knowing “better than the skin of his dick,” so I believed him when he said he’d be able to alert me to every corner and turn before they appeared. This sounded perfectly reasonable, until he passed out five minutes down the mountain. Obviously I made it through the whole winding nightmare with only Rick’s tail lights to guide me and yes, impressed the hell out of him enough to ask me out once we got home. At the time this was my brother’s favorite song, and the memory of that night is one of the happiest and scariest moments of my life.
1. FRANK STALLONE AND THE NEVER ENDING MASH-UP
Now that I am older and wiser (in other words, legally able to be tried as an adult) I make somewhat better choices where music, cars and men are concerned. For instance, I take full advantage of Prince Charming’s fire department scanner to let me know where the police are responding before I pick a road on the other side of town to catch air on. I’ve also found that my taste in music has begun leaning more toward classic than angry rock.
But the biggest change I made was my decision to replace men with cars; namely my 1968 Chevy Impala which I named Frank Stallone with…well, every man out there. Frank’s the perfect man for me; solid, dependable, quiet when I want him to be. Roars when I make him. Most days Frank and I are happy just to tool around town lost in our daydreams. And while his fantasies involve a certain Metallicar, my focus is more on the two boys inside it and my fantasy of being the center of a Jensen Ackles – Jared Padalecki sandwich.
If I were smart I’d end my post here and get to work on the writing I had planned for the weekend, but the phone call I got while writing this post pounded the hell out of my rebellion button. Yup, Jeb just called and told me to pack my shit because we’re off on an adventure to Connecticut to catch LIT in concert. Sadly, minus the party bus. I AM my own worst enemy.