The Saturday Six -- Episode 16

Have fun. Do the Saturday Six yourself.  It's so easy, anybody can. Steal the questions from this entry.  I stole them from Patrick.  -- Mrs. L  

And we're back again with another edition of the Saturday Six...the 16th set of six.  And what would be more appropriate for the "Sweet 16" edition than a question about a nude beach?!?

For those of you who haven't played before...(and for those of you who like to hear the same thing week after week)...answer the questions here or put the answers in an entry on your journal...either way, just be sure to include the link to your journal in the comment [At Patricks' Place] so that we can all find you.  On Tuesday I [Patrick]will post a recap of the players with links so that you can see how your neighbors answered the same questions you're about to!  And it gives them the chance to visit your journal as well...possibly for the first time...a symbiotic relationship at its very best!  Enjoy!

1. Which do you most enjoy receiving from someone you know:  a telephone call, an E-mail, a handwritten letter, or a comment in your journal?

It depends on the someone I know. 

I like phone calls from my daughters best.  Hearing their voices is important. You can sense someone's true state of mind from the tone of their voice.  And there's nothing like the immediacy of a laugh in real time. Their letters, cards, and emails to me come in a close second. Hey, I'm a mom.

I'm a sucker for handwritten letters from men. Any kind of note -- thoughtful, smartass, funny, shocking -- as long as it's written by hand.  Oh, yeah, and the spelling is good.  I broke up with a guy once because he wrote me an impassioned letter and spelled "their" as "thier."  I had no idea it would be such a turnoff. Like a guy in his underwear wearing black socks.

Emails from anybody I DON'T work with are great.  Work is work, although some of the people I work with are good friends. When I open their emails there's a chance it won't be work related. So I cut them some slack.  My favorite emails come from old college friends, my immediate family and people I think of as family. And lately from other journalers.

I'm hopelessly hooked on comments.  They're my personal drug of choice. And, I confess - I am disappointed if there aren't any when I check my email or get alerts.   I never cease to be amazed that total strangers have stopped by to read and comment about something that I wrote.  Then, if I have time, I immediately track down their journals to see just who this person is.  And I'm so excited when I discover someone insane. [I mean this in a good way.]

2. You are invited to a nude beach.  You do not know any of the people who will be there, and it is certain that you will never see any of them ever again.  No one you know will find out you had gone unless you tell them.  Would you go?

Let me get to my answer the long way around. 

About ten years ago, one of my best girlfriends, a director of nursing at a large medical institution, introduced me to her new boyfriend, the surgeon.  They had been friends for several years, but now they were dating. This was the first time I had ever met him.  The two of them proceeded to show me photos of their recent trip to France.  I figured I have to sit through a bunch of cathedrals, cafes, and statues, so I braced myself.

Not even close. They first showed me a beautiful artistic photo of my friend, shot by the doctor, as she sat nude on the edge of a bathtub. Well, I said, clearing my throat, this is a lovely picture! Too bad you can't hang it anywhere.  <<nervous laughter>>

I was just getting over that photo when they pulled out the pictures from their side trip to the nude beach in Nice. Oh nice -- a nude beach in Nice. Soon they began showing me picture after picture of the two of them posing for the camera like tourists, arms around each other, clothing free.  With their pubic parts on public display.  I tried not to look, but the good doctor's penis looked like a banana wearing an afro. "Well look at that!" I said.

So the answer to would I go to a nude beach for any reason. No. Because I know I would definitely know one of the people; I am sure I would run into them again. And people ALWAYS talk.

On the other hand, skinny dipping in a mountain river -- yes.

3. Not counting work uniforms, what color do you wear most often?

Black. But I try to perk it up with bright red toenails and bleached blond hair.

4. What was the last movie you watched that you thought couldn't end soon enough?

XXX with Vin Diesel.  I went with some young collitch kids at the Joisey Shore last summer and I was ready to leave after the first ten minutes.  Was it because Vin looks vaguely like my ex-husband when he was bulked up after college? Yeah, probably.

I've only walked out of one movie in my entire life -- The Wedding by Robert Altman.  Altman was trying to satirize the lifestyles of the rich and decadent, but it wasn't funny.  All he had to do was play them straight.

5. What is the farthest you've ever called someone long distance?

I live in the Chicago area.

I call my daughter in London a lot. My other daughter in Wyoming is closer. I have an old college roomie who lives in Hawaii and we talk. Also a high school friend who lives in Paris.  I used to call Sydney, Australia when another friend was living there.  The fifteen hour difference always screwed me up.  I couldn't remember if it was noon or midnight there. Probably the farthest call was to me from my former Israeli boyfriend who used to check in from the beach in Tel Aviv.  That's why he is a former boyfriend.

6. READER'S CHOICE QUESTION #14 from From NZforME:  "If you were to get a personalized/vanity license plate, what would it say?"

When I was married, my husband had a vanity plate: WJL, his initials.  I think he got it with a "contribution" to someone's campaign fund. I had a vanity plate with six numbers -- my birthdate. I got it for the regular license fee. Only I knew what the numbers meant. If I got a real vanity plate, it would probably be Linkl8r.  But I don't think you can mix numbers and letters like that in Illinois. When I had an Audi, I wanted to get "U AUDI B U". How personal growth of me.

 

Have a question you'd like to see asked on an upcoming edition of the "Saturday Six?"  Just click that white envelope icon in Patrick's "About Me" panel and E-mail it to him.

Finally, An Intelligent Take on the DNC

The Democratic National Convention? What crap. Sorry. What I meant to say was -- what a disappointment to anyone with a fucking brain. [I want to make sure this doesn't get posted on AOL Music Talk].

This year's DNC was to politics what sex is with Howard Stern -- not much.

Let's call it the Spectacle without Testicles. Vetted, rehearsed, and as spontaneous as dead body at a funeral.  Did the earth move for you?  Not likely.

Conventions have always been about flexing power in public. The ultimate in scalawag TV. Who's got it. Who flaunts it. Who wants it. Who's SOL.

Not any more.  No wonder the mainstream networks were willing to pull the plug on gavel to gavel coverage. We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you much ado about nothing. I haven't seen so much b.s. floating in space since Apollo Thirteen had an equipment malfunction.

Not for lack of trying. You could tell every effort was made to turn these nattering nabobs into something -- anything.  Just look at all those battery-powered hats. WTF? The place was like a gay pride parade in a old people's home. 

Hundreds of elderly men and women wearing hats that spin, whistle, and flush the toilet. Nothing like people with questionable bladder control to remind us of our cherished American values and traditions. 

The Democratic convention was supposed to be a chance for the party to demonstrate its inclusiveness. Its center of the roadness. Okay, maybe we're just a little left of center. But not too much, just a radio station or two. 

Please don't call us liberals or conservatives. Nope, we're Americans, just like you. We have car payments and mortgages, too. Well, John Kerry doesn't. And John Edwards doesn't either.  But you get the idea.

We want to embrace everyone. Come on, group hug!  But the only people I saw embraced were white guys in suits. And a couple of white women in designer suits. 

To their credit, the vett-meisters did let a few people of color entertain the crowds.

That includes Al Sharpton whose wit, wisdom and great impersonation of James Brown on Saturday Night Live whupped the asses off the other candidates during the primaries.  Naturally, he went off his "vetted" script a bunch of times to stick it to Dubya -- you go, Al.

How dare Kerry's people "vett" the speeches anyway. This is the Democratic convention.  It's supposed to be the one time you can slander anyone in the Republican party with impunity.

And how can you not take shots at George W. Bush? There hasn't been a bigger target since George Wendt bent over to tie his shoes.

And then there is the man who has become the Democratic Party's wet dream. Could anyone represent inclusiveness better than the charismatic Barack Obama, our newly anointed Tiger Woods of politics. Nigerian father. White mother. Everybody's so excited about him -- he's smart, he's African American, and best of all, he didn't screw up his keynote address. 

But he might be the most elitist -- Columbia undergrad and Harvard law school are hardly two of our country's leading bastions of sympathy for liberal causes. I'm sorry, center of the roadness.

Mind if I say his name again -- Barack Obama. He's no Estes Kefauver. And for that, everyone is grateful. Once you finally learn his name, you will never forget it. 

The PBS station here in Chicago is so enamored with Barack Obama that they have been running his keynote address more often than a baby has diarrhea. I woke up at 2:00 AM, last night, turned on the tube and there's Barack talking about being a skinny kid with a funny name. AGAIN. Okay, Barack, we get it. You're the THE ONE.

Not since Michael the Jordan was in the house has Chicago been so amped for anybody. Talk about starved for local heroes. 

Apparently, not everyone is charmed. Congressman Jesse Jackson, Jr, an accomplished politician himself, started pouting about half way through Obama's speech. During an interview the next day he virtually accused Obama of pirating Dr. King's I Have a Dream speech. You mean, like you, Junior?

With Obama, Illinois finally has someone who isn't stinking up the place -- like his former opponent Jack Ryan, who was chased out of town when his divorcedecree was made public. The tall, pretty, rich boy was formerly married to Jeri Ryan, the impossibly voluptuous actress who played 7 of 9 on one of the Star Trek spin offs. It turns out that one of the reasons for the divorce was that Jack likes sex clubs. And Jeri didn't.

Apparently, when Jeri began to cry because she didn't want to have sex in front of lots of people, he told her that crying was not a turn on. Really?  Okay, I'll stop.

"Hey," he said, in a lame attempt to defend himself, "We walked in [the club] and we immediately turned around."  So, Jack, how did you get in there in the first place? Because you thought all those mattresses on the floor meant it was, what? A restaurant? A bowling Alley?  A sperm donor reunion?

But Jack Ryan pales by comparison to another Ryan -- George, the most recent former governor of Illinois.  He was nominated [by himself, I'm sure] for a Nobel Peace Prize for commuting the sentences of over one hundred deathrow inmates. This was followed by his recent indictment [finally] in a license for bribes scandal that began before he was governor, when a couple lost all six of their children in a car accident involving an improperly licensed [i.e., he bribed somebody] truck driver.

So, to sum up -- the DNC sucked the air out of every living room in America. AL Sharpton got some laughs. Barack Obama didn't screw up. And John Kerry -- was he there?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Armand's Hell Bent for Greatness Awards

[Lifted from Armand's Journal -- click on "Un-Common Sense" in Other Journals]

For my un-official contribution to AOL's J-Anniversary, I asked past Hell Bent winners to identify their choices for the anniversary edition.  They've put up a great list - with most of the nominees being nominated more than once!

I've never chosen J's based on whether I agree with their politics or not, but based entirely on whether they make me think - whether their J's are audacious, bodacious, raucous and yes, even callous - and most importantly, whether they push Freedom of Speech to the edge.  These new winners are no exception - so get in, sit down, hang on and get ready for some AOL Journal über-pimpin to finish off J-Land's 1st year!

And the winners are...

1. Judith HeartSong
1. Marcia Ellen: Life As It Ought To Be 
1. Mortimer's Cafe 
1. A Contradiction in Terms ... Ingenue
1. Do I AMUSE You? 
1. Daily Musings by the crazy redhead 
1. Random Thoughts 
1. Surrounded By Nincompoops 
1. Tank Gurl's Two Cents 
1. What A Difference A Day Makes! 
1. outtabodymommy 
1. Ocean simplicity 
1. All Things Just Keep Getting.. Stranger 
1. Old Hickory's Weblog 
1. Coming to Terms with Middle Age 
1. the windmills of my mind 
1. On The Tip Of My Wings 
1. What the hell...? 



and a special award for Amy...

Hell Bent for Peace, Love & Rock-n-Roll


1. hippies in yuppieland 

FATE

Answer: A scary thought.  Question:  What if your daughter had decided to go to the Air Force Academy?

In 1991, my younger daughter received an appointment from one of our senators to the Air Force Academy. She would have been in the class of 1995. Her father had encouraged her to go through the arduous, year long process of applying and, in the end, she was successful.

But, ultimately, she decided to go to a different school. [Much to my relief.] This was not an easy decision for her to make, what with her dad providing so much encouragement to attend the Academy.

Since it was her life, I tried to submerge my anti-military feelings, and not say anything one way or another. [One of these days, I should ask her if I succeeded.] 

She waited to make her final decision until the day before I had to overnight a yes, she was coming to Colorado Springs or a no, she wasn't. 

[I noticed there was also a box to check to have an airline ticket sent for her trip to school -- yet another indication that everything is paid for by the military. Room, board, travel. The cadets even get a salary. No wonder her dad wanted her to go.]

But if she had gone to the Academy, she might have been caught in the crossfire of an alarming rape scandal which recently came to light.  And left many women her age feeling helpless against their attackers, almost all of whom have gone unprosecuted. 

Until recently, years of complaints by the female cadets had been almost entirely ignored. I couldn't help but wonder, would she have been one of the many victims?  A young woman left with huge emotional scars and a life in pieces. I couldn't bear the thought.

I was never comfortable with the ratio of men to women there. It was absurd, and one could easily say, even dangerous. When she applied the balance was a lopsided 10 to 1.  I'm sure it isn't much better now.

Let's assume she was able to somehow avoid the assaults and graduate. Then there is a very good possibility she could be in harm's way in Iraq or Afghanistan now.  

All because of some hanging chads.

On the other hand she could have gone on to medical or law school at the military's expense. But that was a non-issue once she decided against a military path entirely.

I am so grateful for that.  Not that she isn't a doctor or a lawyer, but that she isn't in the military with Rumsfeld running the department of defense. And this president running the country.  I wouldn't want a son in the military, either. 

In fact, I think a lot of the young men and women in the military who were seduced by the chance to earn money for college are reeling from the unexpected consequences of their decision.

This should not be construed as not supporting the people who serve our country in the armed forces. I especially don't want a single one of their lives wasted. All because some rich white guys in suits want to ensure their rights to oil profits by scaring us into chasing after a phantom.

Which brings me to this evening's convention coverage. When I watched John Kerry's speech tonight I couldn't help but wonder where the country would be if the popular vote had also secured the electoral vote last time.

And a persistent, nagging question raised its ugly head again -- why does the electoral college, that antiquated preserve of states' rights, exist at all anymore? It seems to be a safeguard for a paternalistic, patronziing elite ruling class determined to make sure that riff raff don't take over the White House.

At the time of the 2000 election, I remember laughing at the absurd arguments for the value of the electoral college. And feeling helpless that there wasn't much I could do to eliminate it.

We were told the 2000 election travesty was a perfect example of why every vote counts.  And all I could think was -- in the end, this is definite proof that hundreds of thousands of votes don't count at all.

Regardless, if Al Gore, Mr. Steady As She Goes, were president now, the country wouldn't seem so unsettled. And defensive. We'd still have 9-11 to deal with. But I'm sure with Gore, we wouldn't have invaded Iraq. Or Afghanistan.  And spread the military so thin it can't function properly. Instead their efforts could have focused on Bin Laden.  And shutting him down.

But Gore lost.  And we invaded.  At least, my daughter chose not to go to the Academy. So she's not in Iraq or Afghanistan now. And I don't have to worry about terrorists and car bombs.

However, a year or so ago, she decided to live and work in London. She now travels all over Europe and the middle east on business. She also vacations in Italy and France. 

And I worry about terrorists and car bombs.

FATE.

-- Mrs. L

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Got My Badge

Flying the Illinois Flag today

Been over to the J-Land First Year Anniversary festivities. [Click on "By the Way" over there in Other Journals and you can catch up with everyone.] Waiting for the parade to start.

Great speeches -- good singing.  Plenty of room on Scalzi's lawn. He must have spent hours mowing that thing. 

We're Working On The Poster Even as We Speak

 

Mrs. Linklater has been doing so much up and downloading that it might be construed as a masked vulgarity, but she's just trying to get all these pictures you've sent to her transferred to a HEFTY HEFTY MAC and off her WIMPY WIMPY GATEWAY. 

Meanwhile, you can still send in your picture for the POSTER. There's no reason not to keep adding people throughout the celebration.  We'll find a spot for you.

A special thank you to Jeffcomedy [she's dropping names now in a shameless attempt to get other people to send their pix] for sending his today at Mrs. L's request, even though he is in the midst of his own unique and yet very mysterious project which he claims will be ready TOMORROW.  Way ahead of Mrs. Linklater. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. L will soon be trolling through J-Land hunting down more people who haven't sent a picture. No pressure.  It's up to you.  But sometimes, it's nice to get an invitation, don't you think? 

Mrs. L is happy she finally has some time to really concentrate on the POSTER for the next couple of days. After almost a month of work work work. [Hey, Troy Aikman was WORK.] Or stuff that passes for it.

If the thought of her begging at your journal is more than you can bear, just send a jpg ATTACHMENT to jevanslink and save yourself the agony of her visit..

Oh -- The AOL Journals people emailed Mrs. L and said they want to see the poster when it's done. Apparently they read the entry where she was asking [okay, begging] for photos.

Hm-m-m. Why does hearing from the Journal peeps make you feel like you're in high school and the creepy security guy has broken into your locker to search for drugs? And even though there aren't any, he's kept your lunch and accidentally [on purpose] dropped your private stash of Tampax all over the hallway?

The editors sneak into your journal and read what you write like parents sniffing around your room. All of a sudden you get an email so you know they've been going through your stuff. And you can't mask any vulgarities because it's too late.

So Mrs. Linklater figures she better do a NICE poster and not the ICKY one she had planned.

 

 

 

 

YOU CAN STOP IGNORING THIS

Bet you can't figure out who's who in the picture: Agency senior vice president, agency vice president, creative director, video director, props, former football player, make up, teleprompter, grip, sound, camera operator, Mrs. Linklater

Answer:  Troy Aikman. And, there was no way I was going to ask him to call me Mrs. Linklater. Question:  Who's the tall guy in the middle of all those simpering sycophants?

Well, guess the picture gives Mrs. L some proof she spent the day with Troy. 

* yawn * 

Exciting details to follow.

Guess now Mrs. Linklater has to make this exciting.  Oh, the pressure. 

Let's see. Troy showed up early, came prepared, did almost everything in one take and was finished an hour earlier than we dreamed possible.

What a travesty!! Nothing for the tabloids. The day was wasted!!!

Keep in mind most shoots take all day. And then some. It's just the nature of the beast. Especially when you're trying to do a celebrity print shoot and a video shoot together. The day was ripe for difficulty.  Nothing.  Not a hair out of place. Or sweaty pits. Amazing considering the studio had no air conditioning!!!!!

[Okay, we panicked and brought in a portable AC machine, but it turns out Santa Barbara is like San Diego. A cool breeze comes off the ocean and keeps everything comfortable -- even under hot lights.]

What was wrong with Troy?  Things were going way too smoothly. No special requests. No foot stomping. Often in Mrs. Linklater's experience, celebrities are disgustingly cooperative and easy to work with. What a drag.

Mrs. Linklater tried to liven things up a bit by telling the director that whoever did the props made the set look like the bathroom in a gay bar. She couldn't have been a bigger hit.

Troy was done in three and a half hours. Print and video. An Olympic record. He was easy as pie. What could be worse?   No tantrums.  No sneaking off the set to smoke.  No grist for the mill.  No stories to embellish as the years go by.

Mrs Linklater was gettng annoyed by all this. To alleviate her stress, she noticed that Troy looked taller than 6'4". More like 6'5" or 6'6". She felt much better. 

When Troy finished so effortlessly an hour early everyone was frightened. What was wrong? Was the teleprompter working properly? Did we forget part of the script?

When things go good that's bad.

One of the reasons everyone expected -- counted on -- running over was because Troy had to do forty different "customizations" for the video, which meant repeating the same lines with different names again and again and again. 

It's so boring that your tongue starts bleeding and you can't help but screw up. Imagine our disappointment when Troy made just one mistake. Just one? We only have to re-shoot one take? What a crock!! Couldn't he mispronounce a few names. Or something? 

Imagne the headline of the Enquirer after something like that: 

 Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z

The director killed time for an extra half hour having Troy do stunt work -- eating product, holding up the boxes and smiling. That'll usually break down a celebrity.  Not Troy. He didn't even ask for a stand-in. He actually ate the product, too. 

To sum up the dreadful day -- Troy is clean cut. He's polite. He has a good sense of humor. He also takes direction well. And doesn't expect star treatment.  He was also willing to stand under the lights while cameras were re-set. We practically begged him to sit down while the crew was futzing around.  He declined.  

Don't you just want to kill people like that?

He also signed a whole bunch of footballs for clients. No begging off because of carpel tunnel or writer's cramp. He even signed stuff for the crew. 

For Mrs. Linklater he signed a coffee table book he wrote. She had purchased it as part of the research she did to write the script. [And he believed her, too]. "I haven't seen one of these in awhile." It weighed a ton. She had lugged it to LA from Chicago just to get it signed. Hey, it cost $50.  

She plans to sell the book to her adopted nephew, a 23 year-old-former quarterback who graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Johns Hopkins in economics and now works as a consultant.  In his heart of hearts he'd really like to take a year or ten and try to make the pro golf tour. So Troy signed the book: "To Brandon.  Play Golf.  Troy Aikman."

Mrs. Linklater thinks Brandon should pay for that autograph.And help her recoup some of her investment.

P.S -- In the six degrees of Troy Aikman department: On Sunday, three days after returning from LA, Mrs. Linklater was contacted by a high school girlfriend visiting for the weekend.  They got together for some good old fashioned sandwich loaf and a large glass of lemonade with a little orange juice in it. 

Asked what Mrs Linklater had been doing in LA, she said, shooting a video with Troy Aikman.  Oh, said her friend, my daughter, Dawn [a tall, lovely model who has been in Victoria's Secret and on David Letterman] dated Troy -- if you see him again say, hello for her. NOTE TO INTERESTED MEN: Sit down. Dawn just married a tennis player who plays on the pro tour.

Yo, Troy. I believe you dated the daughter of a friend of mine. Ah-ha!! I guess that means you can call me Mrs. Linklater, now. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AOL JOURNAL AWARD WINNERS

2012 NOTE: Seven years ago there was a place on AOL called J-Land by the bloggers or Journalers who wrote there.  Unfortunately, the powers that be pulled the plug on AOL Journals after those of us who wrote there took exception to having ads placed on our blogs. Why? Because we weren't being compensated. Over 200 people left for Blogspot and other places. And soon J-Land was history. However, I kept this post [and several others] even though they no longer link to anything. I have no idea who keeps linking to it, but it remains to remind me of some of the best writers we had.  


Thought I would post this in case you're the only person who hasn't checked them out. I may even get around to making the links work. Actually, they already work, but not all the same way -- I'm too tired to 'splain. Mrs. L

THE KING/QUEEN OF J-LAND
GoldenchildNC  -- "Golden Child, Superstar!"

THE LADY OF THE BLOG
Slow Motion Life ~ "A Life in Slow Motion"
LORD OF THE BLOGScreamin Remo 303 ~ "Screaming Remo"
MOST LOL MOMENTSJeff Comedy ~ "What the Hell"
BEST USE OF ANIMATION
Vivian SulliNwank ~ "Viv's E-Thoughts"
THE SUTTERBUG AWARD
Son en Smilin Mon ~ "Backroads of Life"
MOST THOUGHT-PROVOKING
Read Me Read You ~ "Life As I See it"
ROOTIE TOOTIE FRESH 'N FRUTIEDanielle D1 ~ "Everybody Knows"
BEST GRAPHICS  GoldenchildNC -- "Golden Child, Superstar"
BEST THEME-BASED JOURNAL
Sekirley ~ "My Ambulance Stories"
BEST USE OF MASKED VULGARITIESMuse N LA ~ "Amused"  -- Not to be confused with "Do I AMUSE You?" which, for my money, is as good as any journal here for LOL, masked vulgarities, great writing and pretty much everything else. You can navigate there via the "Other Journals" on your left.
BEST USE OF GRANDIOSE BEHAVIOR (a tie, no lie!)
Floralilia ~ "Freely Floralilia"      LA Move 04 ~ "Albert's Artsy World of Fun"
BEST J-BRAT ON THE BLOCKJB Coupe ~ "My Frog Journal"
THE J-TEEN SUPREME
Svenska Girl ~ "Emily's Life"
THE MAD HATTER AWARD
Karen Sull 12 ~ "Jukebox Woman"
I'S GOT GOOD GRAMMARRead Me Read You ~ "Life As I See It"
MOST ORIGINAL/CREATIVE JOURNAL
Haiku Like ~ "Interactive Haikus"
THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD
Bare Bytes ~ "Community Story Book"
MOST HEART-WARMING JOURNAL ENTRYMKG Ninja ~ "Happy Anniversary Baby"
GOD SAVE THE QUEEN AWARD
Dave the Sod ~ "World of the Sod"
SIR BLOGS-A-LOTDave the Sod ~ "World of the Sod"
THE J-QUEEN OF ENGLAND
Agathas Place ~ "Damn, Blast, Bollox"

Sundays

 

While most people spend their Sundays sleeping in, having, well, you know what, then meeting friends for brunch, going to the beach, reading the papers, working on their cars, walking their dogs, or comparing lawns with the neighbors, Mrs. Linklater has been catching up on the load o' work she needs to have finished for Monday. 

The pile is wide and deep.

This is work she should have been doing last night instead of going to the White Sox game.

But then she would have missed a really good hot dog, a fine bag o' peanuts, a surprisingly low cal, low carb bag o' Cracker Jacks and a fat-fortified, chocolate-sucking Dove Bar

All in all, a rather restrained evening at the trough for Mrs. L.

A regular Dove Bar about 1/2 the size of a ballpark Dove Bar

Not to mention that she would have also missed one of the great games of the 2004 summer. The Sox re-captured first place without Frank or Maggs. They won in the ninth with a solo homer by their number eight hitter, Joe Crede, a guy whose name Mrs. L can barely remember he's so unheralded. A righthander, he also hit an opposite field line drive double, just inches off first base on a 3-2 pitch in the seventh with the bases loaded. While the crowd was on its feet demanding results. No pressure. At the time the Sox were down 5 - 1, after being no hit by the Tigers through the fourth inning.

[Can you tell Mrs. L has played enough softball to think she could still make the throw from centerfield to homeplate without dismantling her rotator cuff? So pathetic.]

 The Big Hurt is hurt

But this crowd wasn't going to let the Sox lose. They were loud and lively -- a full house -- usually something that happens only for crosstown contests with the Cubs. 

Everybody was doing all the stupid claps and the dumb cheers so the noise level was into Pump You Up mode. Of course, if Mrs. L heard "Can o' corn!" or "Ducks on a pond!" from the guy behind her one more time she was going to pick her nose and wipe it on him.  

But his lame cheers were nothing compared to the size of the guy sitting in front of her. He had such a large head that Mrs. L  could only watch the batter or the pitcher, but not both at the same time.

Finally he held still long enough so the batter was swinging at his left earlobe and the pitcher was throwing the ball directly into his right ear.  Weird ballgame visual.  When he moved left or right, Mrs. L watched a lot of the game on the JumboTron.

There was no shortage of insanely flashing lights and animated baseball stuff sucking enough wattage to light up Las Vegas for years. 

Plus fireworks for every Sox homerun, when they finally started happening. And because it was Saturday, we were treated to a whole different bunch of fireworks for twenty minutes after the game. 

Anyway, despite having spent almost 6 hours at the ballpark, what with commuting, eating, and everything else, Mrs. Linklater refuses to accept blame for having a great time with friends and getting so far behind in her "homework." 

That's why she'd like her SuperHero alter ego Procrastinator Woman to step up to the plate on this one. [Oh, good, a baseball analogy, how appropriate.]

Actually, if Scalzi hadn't come up with his latest weekend assignment, that babe wouldn't have reared her ugly head and caused all this.

Yep. It's his fault Mrs. Linklater is blogging, when she should be working.

 Maggs is out till September

Congratulations Albert and Flo Together Forever!

 This is not Madame Glinka. Her nibs was, unfortunately, dreadfully indisposed and unable to participate in any kind of photo op.

Let us bow our heads for a moment of acute female impersonation to honor Albert, the Queen from Queens and Flo, the Modern Madwoman of Chaillot for winning the grandioisty award together in a tie -- like a couple of Siamese twins joined at the head --  stuck with each other and going nowhere fast

.  

If you put your ear up to the faery's butt, you can almost hear Flo singing. . .

CONGRATULATIONS!  You're both too too mad! And completely outrageous! Hugs and kisses all around!

What's next -- a line of perfumes and sachets? I smell reality show.

Soooo Beautiful

 

Stop by Judithheartsong's Journal --http://journals.aol.com/judithheartsong/newbeginning/ because she has created some lovely original art of the J-Land First Anniversary Torch.

Here's another one:

AND ONE MORE:

Feel free to copy the ones here or visit her journal.

     

Saturday Six - Episode 15

 

As usual -- thank you Patrick for shaking the cobwebs of my mind.

Time now for the weekly sensation:  the Saturday Six! 

Playing is easy...you have two choices.  You can either answer the questions in a comment here, or you can answer the questions as an entry in your own journal.  Either way, be sure to leave a comment here with a link to your journal...that way everyone who plays gets the chance to see your blog.  Enjoy!

1. If you had to live without one of your five senses, which one would you most be willing to live without?

I consider seeing, hearing, smelling, and touching to be senses that not only enrich your life, but protect it from danger, too.  

So, of the five senses, taste seems to be the one I could let go most easily.  The bad news is that food wouldn't have any flavor.  The good news is that food wouldn't have any flavor.  All the bad stuff that tastes like good stuff would be dust in the wind -- or my mouth. Nothing could seduce me with its mouthwatering appeal. I would still have smell to help out or warn me if something was spoiled. But without taste, I could finally eat to live, not live to eat.   

 

2. You see a fly, a spider, a roach and a moth flying, scurrying or skulking around at once in your living room.  Which one do you go after first?

When I see a fly I open a window and let it out.  Same with spiders. I get them to climb on a piece of paper and put them outside.  Moths are pretty easy to catch and release, too.  But roaches?  I'd bitch slap that prehistoric bug into squash soup and send it to a watery grave down the toilet.

3. How many pets have you had so far during your lifetime?

Not counting the field mice that sneak in for the winter,I've had four collies, six cats, a gerbel, a fresh water catfish, frogs, turtles, goldfish, a baby squirrel, and a fly with no eyes that I kept alive with sugar water for a week.

4. I recently watched a cult favorite movie, "The Breakfast Club," and it prompted this question:  Which of the five character types do you personally most identify with:  the princess (or prince), the jock, the nerd, the criminal or the basket case?

Breakfast Club is one of my all-time favorite movies.  I liked it more than my kids did, and they could recite the dialog word for word.

I was a jock princess in high school, but the Breakfast Club character I have the most affinity for is Judd Nelson's criminal.  For some reason I've always loved those guys, even in high school.  Most of the "hoods" [rhymes with "foods"] as we called them were really good looking, once you got past their clothes, their hair, and their engineer boots. These days, you'd also have to navigate around their tattoos.

Something about the way their eyes looked through you ignited my secret inner ho. My teenage hormones went to phaser whenever they walked by.  Years later, I actually ran into one of my high school's most notorious bad boys at a fancy schmancy party. His hair was normal.  He was wearing a tux. And I introduced myself.  I even told him I had a crush on him in high school. In a heartbeat his eyes switched to stun gun. And I was meat.  Be still my beating heart. As for the rest -- I have to invoke the military code -- don't ask, don't tell.

5. Would you like to have more siblings, less siblings, or would you not change how many you have?

I have four siblings.  That's a good number. I don't want any less or more.  However, except for one brother, I would prefer completely different ones altogether.

6. READER'S CHOICE QUESTION #13 from BarbaraMck:  If you could choose any vehicle (road warrior) as your sole source of transportation, what would it be? (Year, Make, Why)?

I would choose John Madden's tour bus. That baby is tricked out with everything for life on pavement. For living la dolce vita on the road. And it has the one thing I want more than anything else for my sole source of transportation -- a professional driver to take me where I want to go. 

Weekend Assignment #16

Answer:  John Scalzi   Question: Who is the only person in the world that can make you do things you wouldn't ever do unless there was a gun to your head?

Create a brand-new Superhero secret identity for yourself, based on your personality and proclivities -- and make sure to list at least one "super power" that relates to a special talent you have. Now, to be clear, this "super power" shouldn't actually be a super power, like the ability to fly or shoot lasers from your eyes (unless you can actually do that). No, we're just talking about naming a "talent" you have, in superhero terms. 

Let's see, talent huh? Well, Mrs. Linklater can eat her weight in chocolate, but that's so last century.

How about not finishing those baby blankets she started 30 years ago. She's good at stuff like that.

Or interrupting you while you're speaking -- what a natural gift she has. 

And playing fun games like Can You Top This, where you tell a story about your recent back surgery and she says, "Well, that's nothing!" and proceeds to steal your thunder with a more gruesome tale of woe. Pure talent. What a shame to waste it.

Oh, wait, there is something special she can do that deserves a separate mention:

Look, up in the sky!!  It's a --

Hold it, SuperPower breath -- I'm not up there yet.

But, didn't you say you were going to be up in the sky today? 

Yep, sure did.  Made a promise.

So, why aren't you up there? 

The day is young, you know. I'll get up there. 

Gonna make us wait until the very last moment, huh?

I guess you could say that. . .okay, you might as well continue with the introductions.

Ahem -- Slower than molasses. More excuses than a teenager coming in late. Able to put off until tomorrow anything she could and should be doing today --

It's Procrastinator Woman!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You know, couldn't we do this later? I haven't eaten breakfast and there's an infomercial about some fancy do-dad ladder that I haven't watched yet. 

 

Extra Credit: If you could have one genuine, honest-to-goodness super power, what one would you want and why?

If I could have one real super power, I would want to be INVISIBLE.  All except for my voice, which would have echo, reverb and maximum volume options.

9-11 Victims Relatives

 

Never forget

 

Patrick at Patrick's Place [see Other Journals] suggests that the relatives of the 9-11 victims might want to get on with their lives. Especially regarding their need to assign blame for the event. And their disappointment with the 9-11 Commission's failure to do that.

He acknowledges that his position may not be mine or yours. And I can certainly understand his feelings. 

But I suggest they are the feelings of someone who didn't lose any friends or family that day. With my apologies, if I'm wrong.

Sitting here in the midwest I didn't really expect to know people at Ground Zero.  Turns out that the brother of a good friend worked for Cantor Fitzgerald.  He left a wife and two small children. He also left parents, several brothers and sisters, and many nieces and nephews.

I didn't know him personally, but as I read his sister's emails about him, along with his obituary in the paper, I felt a tremendous sense of frustration and anger over the complete stupidity of his death.  

On reflection I began to wonder how many other people from 9-11 I might be connected to. And it didn't take long to decide I didn't want to find out. But I still needed to do something. I just didn't know what.

After the Oklahoma bombing, which happened on a close friend's birthday, I wanted to remember that day -- April 19th.  It was such a horrible event I felt a need to commemorate it with something positive.

I also wanted to separate the sadness and horror from the happy occasion of my friend's birthday.

What could I do that would remind me each year of what happened to all those people, especially the little children, in a way that would encourage a moment of reflection?

Soon afterward, the news began showing people wearing yellow and blue ribbons as a memorial to the ones who were lost. 

The ribbons reminded me of a little blue and yellow flower my mother used to plant in her garden. She liked it because it was so persistent and didn't need much encouragement to grow. It was also my college sorority's adopted flower. I had used it in my wedding bouquet for something blue.

The flower itself was so very tiny you might pass it by, but Mother Nature made sure it usually bloomed in big bunches to get your attention. 

Ironically, it has a most appropriate name:  Forget-me-not. 

A few days after the bombing I planted a packet of Forget-me-not seeds in my yard as a remembrance of the bombing in 1995.  I even thought the folks in Oklahoma City should plant an entire field of Forget-me-nots on the site where the building stood. Regardless, my yard provided a great alternative for me.

All these years later, the Forget-me-nots keep coming up each spring. Not necessarily in the same place, because the wind and the winter tend to scatter the seeds. And not usually in April either, because it's still pretty chilly here. But they always return.

I'll be out walking about checking what's coming up and I'll see a bunch of those tiny blue and yellow flowers, their blooms bobbing back and forth in the breeze, like little children playing. Each time, I'm genuinely surprised to find them. And always, I remember.

So with the idea of remembrance in mind, I wanted to do something for 9-11. Not something for the world, but for me.

The New York Times wrote wonderful obituaries about everyone who died that day. You really got to know something special about each person. So I read through dozens of these beautifully written stories and picked out twenty people:  Firemen, policemen, pilots, children, old people, heroic people on the planes, people who worked in the buildings. And my friend's brother.

Then I went to a jeweler and bought a silver bracelet and several silver disks.The names I had chosen were engraved on the disks and attached to the bracelet.  As the cost crept past $400, I began to wonder what I was thinking. But I kept saying to myself this wasn't about the money.

My plan was to wear the bracelet and explain why I created it. If anyone were to ask, I could tell them about my friend's brother so his life would be remembered by people who never knew he existed.

Then karma kicked in. I decided to attend a four day spirituality seminar that began a couple of days after Christmas and ended on New Year's Eve. 

As part of the experience, we were asked to bring something we would be willing to part with to help someone else on their spiritual journey.

Immediately, I felt I should bring the bracelet to the seminar and give it away. 

For awhile I basked in this altruistic, zen moment, reveling in my ability to let go. However, I kept having nagging thoughts about all the money I'd spent.

No wonder, when I left for the seminar, I forgot to pack the bracelet. That's when I realized that my financial moment had sucker punched my zen moment. 

But I managed to get a grip and called a friend to go into my house, find the bracelet, and Fedex it to me.

When the bracelet arrived, a day late, I offered it to the group with a suggestion -- that whoever took it would keep it for awhile, then add a disk and give it to someone else. To give to someone else.  To give to someone else.

That way each person in turn could remember 9-11 with a small, yet beautiful reminder of some of the people who died.

A Native American woman chose the bracelet. And that was the last I have seen or heard about it.

Three years have passed. I have no clue where the bracelet is.  On her wrist?  Sold on eBay? Given to a friend or loved one? It doesn't matter.

What mattered to me was the power of the idea. I'm happy that I let it take the form of a bracelet.

In fact, for me, what matters most about the people who died on 9-11 is that those of us who live continue to find ways to remember them.

-- Mrs. Linklater

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baggage Lady

Answer: Say, "Bad Karma!!" And hit it with a newspaper.  Question: What do you do when your Karma does something awful?

Mrs. Linklater has been away working. Whatever for? One might ask. Exactly her sentiments. 

Part of being away working meant flying to Los Angeles.  And then, flying back.  It was the flying back that she feels compelled to share.

1. Arrive at LAX at noon for 1:38 PM flight

2. Curbside check in. Proceed to Gate 48B

3. Flight delayed to 2:25 PM -- Gate changed to 40

4. Flight delayed to 3:10 PM -- Gate changed to 46A then 42A

5. Flight cancelled

6. Re-schedule for 4:00 PM flight delayed to 5:10 PM -- Gate 46B

7. Flight delayed to 5:45 PM -- Gate changed to 46A

8. Land at 11:30 PM -- four hours late, not bad, considering, but. . .

9. Go to baggage claim

10. Wait for baggage

11. Wait for baggage

12. Wait for baggage

13. Surprise -- at 1:00 AM, someone finally realizes there is no baggage on that flight or the one after for anyone who was originally on the cancelled flight

14. Stand in line at the special desk for everybody who lost their luggage like the lady with the baby who has no diapers or crib or bottles now.

15. See a guy in line who looks like Bob Ewbanks of "The Newlywed Game."

16. It is Bob Ewbanks. His luggage is missing, too. We discuss options. We do not discuss The Newlywed Game.

17. Report luggage missing. "No, we do not know where it is.  We do know it isn't here." Try to recall which suitcase contains the Hope Diamond.  Because someone is going to pay. . .

18. Get 800 number to call in the morning to check on status of lost luggage which apparently never left LA.  Probably taking a meeting with Spielberg.

18A. Leave airport without luggage at 2:00 AM. After spending 16 hours traveling.

18B. Get to house at 2:30 AM.  Brush teeth with finger.

19. In the morning, call 800 number and talk to strange tele-robotic operator who seems to read minds.  Really creepy.

20. Luggage has been located and will be delivered within the next 12 hours.

21. Leave note for delivery people. "Please leave luggage on front porch. Hide the one with the Hope Diamond so no one will take it." 

22. Put on clothes worn the day before. Spray shirt pits with Right Guard. Go to meeting downtown.

23. Return home.  Suitcases are on the front porch.  The Hope Diamond is gone.

LA Airport resident alien center --

Saturday Six - Episode 14

Patrick just keeps on keeping on.  Lucky for us.  

The weeks just fly by any more.  It seems like just yesterday Patrick was putting together last week's edition, and here we are ready for another set of six.  

Answer the questions at Patrick's Place or put the answers in an entry on your journal...the link you leave at Patrick's gives everyone who plays a chance to visit your journal!  Enjoy!

1. Open local telephone directory and turn to the "X" listings in the residential section:  give the first surname and the last surname that appears in the "X" listings.  (In other words, what last name beginning with X is the first listing in the "X" section, and which last name beginning with X is the final one before the "Y" listings begin?)

Local telephone directory?  You mean that large book of paper I burned to start the fire in my outdoor fireplace? Sorry. No can do this question.

2. Of the seven deadly sins:  pride, envy, gluttony, anger, greed, sloth, and lust, which are you most recently guilty of?  (Details aren't necessary...unless you wanna...)

Gluttony -- guilty! This evening I was overtaken when a family size bag of Riesen's chocolates followed me home and wouldn't leave until I ate nine of them.

3. What is the last dish you cooked completely from scratch?  ("Hamburger Helper" doesn't count!)

Does microwaving Lean Cuisine count? Does pouring olive oil and balsamic vinegar on the salad that comes from White Hen Pantry in its own plastic bowl with an optional plastic fork count? *sigh* Probably not.

Okay. For real: I made ice tea from scratch.  Turned on the faucet. Filled up the glass teapot.  Pushed the buttons on the microwave. All this without supervision I might add. Heated the water.  Found the good teabags. [As a concession to modern living, I no longer grow my own tea]. Poured the hot water over the teabags.  Steeped the tea.  Got out the ice cubes [which I had made from scratch earlier].  Poured the tea into a glass over the ice cubes.  Opened the bottle of concentrated lemon juice. [What?  You can actually buy lemons at the store?] Poured in a cap full of juice that I measured myself. Added two packets of Splenda, [opened them myself]. And voila, homemade ice tea from scratch.

4. List the states in which you've actually set foot.  (If you drove through a state but never got out of the car, don't count it.  If you've flown over a state without landing in it, don't count it.)

Oregon [my favorite personal growth seminar locale; once drove from Portland airport to Eugene at night in dense fog], California [go to LA a lot, but still can't get over the giant redwoods], Nevada [little old ladies in Reno playing slots at 7:00 AM, wearing those weird muslin gloves -- I walked past them on my way to a volleyball tournament], Texas [love the hill country, San Antonio and Austin; you can have Dallas, never been to Houston -- never want to go], Oklahoma [arrived in Oklahoma City shortly after the bombing to discover a large Ryder truck parked outside the building where we were shooting a video], Colorado [loved riding horseback down Ruthie's Run in Aspen], Montana [best photography store in the country is in Bozeman], Wyoming [one word: Tetons], South Dakota [vast Badlands and bikes], Minnesota [great camping; great theater in Minneapolis], Wisconsin [Door County is ajewel], Illinois [Chicago Chicago Chicago], Iowa [the writer's school at my older daugher's alma mater], Missouri [St. Louis Cardinal football], Florida [have you ever been in the clean, clear, and very warm water on the bay in Pensacola?], Georgia [21st century Atlanta has all the charm of a cinderblock outhouse] , North Carolina [college], Virginia [History on the highways; but Monticello is looking pretty run down these days], Indiana [the Amish are remarkable], Ohio [Toledo is surprisingly nice; Cleveland is a disappointment], Michigan [Ann Arbor rocks; so do the sunsets on the west coast beaches], Massachussetts [what's not to love about the Cape?], Connecticut [Greenwich has a lingerie store that requires an appointment], New York [Staten Island ferry at midnight], New Jersey [the Joisey Shore], Delaware [great corn and watermelon; lots of relatives], Maryland [the Bay, even with all the jelly fish] DC [Georgetown is charming], Tennessee [Nashville's great music; Memphis has art, great food, tradition, AND Elvis], Hawaii [swoon], Arizona [best place to see a sky full of millions of stars], and Nebraska [last place to buy Coors in the old days heading east; and a convenient place to change a flat tire in the median]. South Carolina [Stopped at a stop sign in Hilton Head, looked to my right and there was a gator sunning in someone's backyard] Pennsylvania [The turnpike tunnels, Buck's County, Ringing Rock, all the interesting fences], Louisiana [Buying a big silver ladle in the French Quarter, riding the City of New Orleans train to get there],

5. You must give up TWO of the following "modern" conveniences.  Which two would you most be likely to toss out for good?
A) Dishwasher
B) Remote Control (for all devices)
C) Compact Disc Player
D) DVD Player
E) Internet
F) Washer/Dryer
G) Microwave
H) Cellular Telephone
I) Your Online Journal

Actually I can live without personal ownership of any of these. Got rid of my dishwasher [boy was he ticked off]. Hate my cell phone. The only thing I refuse to live without is a remote for the TV. I can't watch TV unless I have one.

6. READER'S CHOICE QUESTION #12 from Emeraldcalf: What is your biggest pet peeve when it comes to your significant other?

Significant other, isn't that someone who makes an impact on your daily life in an up close and personal way?  I may have to recuse myself.  Wait, there's the lawn guy.  My pet peeve with him is that he doesn't put the birdbath back in its place after mowing the grass. Why he moves it is beyond me.

Weekend Assignment #15

Tell us about the the most disgusting food/drink you've ever had in your mouth. Emphasis on "food and/or drink" -- No fair talking about the time you ate an earthworm or Play-Doh, or drank antifreeze, or ate something else that doesn't actually constitute food.

Extra Credit: Name an actual food product that was so awful that you couldn't even bring yourself to try it.

 The Pink Celery

 

Mrs. Linklater is a mother.  There isn't a mother in the world, let alone AOL J-Land, who hasn't finished her toddler's Blueberry Buckle mixed with mashed peas or carrots. Unfortunately that's only disgusting in retrospect.  At the time, it wasn't so bad.

No sense in relating the expired milk story. Milk so sour you could eat it with a spoon. Anyone who's been to college has done that. Tipped the carton for a big swig and had your face covered with clumps of cow juice. Too easy.

Cold pasta with coagulated red sauce and rubbery pepperoni pizza don't count either. They are now considered two of the major food groups.

But there was the breakfast fruit caper, when Mrs. Linklater and her loved one [at the time] visited his mother for a holiday during college. 

The first morning, a bowl of pink celery sticks appeared on her placemat. Her initial reaction was, "What's with the pink celery?"  Where is my o.j.?  My English muffin?  My poached egg? And some tea. Breakfast is no time to eat unfamiliar foods. So she ignored it .

"Aren't you going to eat your rhubarb?" asked her boyfriend's mother.  Where was he? The rat bastard. Sleeping in?  "I cooked it fresh." How nice.

Oh great, what's rhubarb? Whatever it was, was too much to hide in her napkin. After loading a utensil, she bit into the first tasteless, stringy piece. 

She looked up and his mother was staring at her. So she smiled back, trying to pretend it was so darn good. When it was so darn bad.

What kind of fruit is rhubarb?  Isn't it a condiment for pies?  Why are we eating it for breakfast? Ever the suck up, she ate another piece. And smiled again at her soon to be former boyfriend's mother. 

She swallowed another piece.  And endured yet another stare.  

Finally, it was all gone. Thank goodness that's over, she thought.  What's for lunch? Stewed patio pavers?

Suddenly the woman whose son was going to pay for this broke her silence.

"Well, that's the first time I've ever seen anyone eat rhubarb without adding any sugar."

Ptui.

Correct use of rhubarb

And, for street cred, the food Mrs. Linklater refused to eat on principle:

Sweetbreads -- talk about something that isn't sweet or bread.  Yuck. 

 

 

Mrs. Linklater On The Job

Answer: A tee-shirt and flip flops   Question: Mrs. Linklater, what does someone with your vast experience and skill level wear to work?

Okay, Mrs. Linklater is working. At her desktop computer. On a perfectly nice day. What a drag. She could be at the beach sitting in the shade wearing 45 sunblock covered with a towel.

She is writing a script for a video that stars football great Troy Aikman, a six time pro bowl selection, three time Super Bowl champion quarterback, survivor of nine, count 'em nine concussions, and basically a decent guy. Although that will be sorely tested soon enough.

Next week he has to spend a day with a bunch of people he's never met who are going to put makeup on him, turn on some hot lights and make him say things he will probably think are really stupid. That's where Mrs. Linklater comes in. The really stupid part.

Read about her earlier angst over Troy here: http://journals.aol.com/jevanslink/AskMrsLinklater/entries/904

[Wait till she asks him to call her Mrs. Linklater while they're shooting this thing. Or asks him if he'll be a pal and leave a message for callers on her voicemail -- "Hi, this is Troy, Mrs. Linklater is uh, indisposed, but please leave a message and she'll get back to you after I leave.."]

Meanwhile, she's having a hard time coming up with a line of quality copy to kind of pay off one section of the script.

Should she have him say something honest --

"I'm getting paid a boatload more than you'll see in your lifetime."

Or something folksy --

"You know, when we're finished here we can head to my place for an RC and a moon pie."

Or something competitive and self-assured --

"Touch my stuff and you die!"

Or something more manly and aggressive --

"Bill Parcells is a fat, ugly, white man!"

It's just so hard to find the right combination of words. Mrs. Linklater needs to try harder to get inside Troy's head -- to think the way he thinks.  So she can write the way he talks.

To help herself out, she paid fifty dollars for a book he wrote called, Mind, Body & Soul. So she could understand how he truly feels about things. Things Mrs. Linklater didn't have a clue he thought about.

He writes: "I like country music. . .but I thought I would give my voice, as well as the listening public, a break and not record another album."

Troy Aikman made an album of country songs? Who knew? Guess that was the problem.

"I love playing golf. I've come close to having a hole in one, but I've never had one." 

Doesn't he seem a little put out that he hasn't had a hole in one.  Like he should or something. It's gotta be a Super Bowl MVP thing.

Her favorite quote is a paragraph under several pictures of Troy riding around on his Harley.

"About a year and a half ago, Barry Switzer asked me whether I would be interested in getting a Harley. It was funny because just the day before, I passed by a Harley store and mentioned to a friend of mine, 'Boy, I always wanted to get a Harley.  One of these days I'm going to get one.' The very next day Barry came to me and said, 'Hey, have you ever had any interest in getting a Harley? I have an opportunity to get one, and if you're interested I can get one for you too.' "

Earth to Troy.

Any number of times Mrs. Linklater has said to her friends, out loud in fact, "Boy, I always wanted to get a Jaguar. One of these days I'm going to get one."  Nothing.

Barry Switzer doesn't call.  He doesn't write.

But her favorite favorite quote is this one, "I used to hate doing commercials and I just don't enjoy photo shoots.. .I thought you can go in and do a commercial in an hour. . .I learned. . .this is going to take eight hours."

Mrs. Linklater can hardly wait for next week. A photo AND video shoot.  And now she knows that in Troy's heart of hearts, he wants it all to be over in an hour. 

Over the years, Mrs. Linklater has learned that negotiating for a six hour day is usually the max with celebrities she has worked with. Eight hours is almost unheard of.

Needless to say, Troy owes his people more than a hearty handshake at Xmas time this year. He only has to put up with Mrs. Linklater et al for 4.5 hours. A photo shoot and a video in only 4.5 hours.

If we pull this off, you'll be hearing about it on Ripley's. 

 

 

 

 

 

HAVE YOU SENT ME YOUR JPG HEADSHOT YET? OH PLEASE, OH PLEASE, I'M BEGGING. . .

 

Huh, have you?  Have you?

I have over sixty pictures and I want more.

For our POSTER of AOL Journalers.

More, more I want MORE!

So does Vivian.  You know Vivian.

She is on a mission.

And I'm on her mission with her.

She wants at least 100 photos in our AOL Journal Poster.

Me, too.

I personally will have at least ten photos of myself.

C'mon, just kidding .

So -- do I have to come and take your picture off your journal? In front of your friends and family?

Okay, I won't. Besides, I might get my hands sticky.

Just send a jpg -- not TOO large -- to me, Mrs. Linklater, at jevanslink.

How hard is that?

It's not hard at all.

It's not like voting for the best AOL Journals or the president.

Or creating a link for Albert's World of Artsy Fun.

So do it already.

Puh-lease, thank you in advance. AND you're welcome.

Mrs. L

 

Academy Awards have nothing on AOL Awards

Mrs. Linklater doesn't want you to miss out on all the fun going on in AOL J-Land.  These award categories were cut and pasted from Golden Child Superstar -- a journal you have to visit to appreciate. Take your medicine first. Here's the link where you can VOTE for your faves. The voting instructions are at the bottom of this entry. NOTE: YOU HAVE UNTIL THURSDAY TO GET YOUR VOTES IN.

 

THE KING/QUEEN of J-LAND! ~ This is for the blogger whose journal has it ALL -- graphics, humor, serious issues, rants, virginity (oops) you name it!

THE LORD of the BLOG! ~ A journal penned by a male who in your mind has his hand on the pulse of the XY Nation when he's not tally-wackin'.

THE LADY of the BLOG! ~ That journaler with one too many X chromosones (oh I'm gonna GET it for that one LMAO!) representing the ladies of AOL J!

MOST LOL MOMENTS IN ONE BLOG! ~ If you can't open their journal without laughing so hard you have a bowel movement, then they're the right material for this one. .channel.aol.com/  http://aolsvc.shopping.aol.com/main.adp

BIGGEST GRAPHICS HO! ~ This award should go to someone who not only chokes you on imagery, but whose graphics (non-animated) compliment their entries and journal as a whole. Ask yourself: "Would I have some idea what the entry was about even if I never read a word?" AOL Editor's picks,AOL Editors, Journals

BEST USE OF ANIMATION ~ Self explanatory. :-)

THE SHUTTERBUG AWARD ~ The emphsis here is on journalers with a good eye and tons of photos, not necessarily a photo blog, but frankly those are REALLY hard to beat! New Journals, new journals, new journals, new jornals

MOST THOUGHT-PROVOKING JOURNAL ~ Have you come across a blog that makes you look at familiar topics in a new light?  AOL Hometown

THE ROOTIE TOOTIE FRESH 'N FRUTIE AWARD ~ This award is reserved for exceptional bloggers who created their FIRST journal within the last 45 days. Journals, journals, journals, journals, journals, jouarnals, journals, journals.

BEST THEME-BASED JOURNAL ~ Politics, Religion, Weight-loss, selling your wares for pennies on the dollar. If youre journal has a theme, why not nominate yourself? :-) John Scalzi, AOL Keywords, new AOL Journals, journals, journals.

BEST USE OF MASKED VULGARITIES ~ Any old poo-poo head can say "doodie" in a journal. That takes no effort and shows no f$#%ing class. But getting your chock-full-o-sin point across without yielding to the Dark Side is a feat worthy of a Jedi Warrior! So give props to those who really know how to mask their shit!

BEST USE OF GRANDIOSE BEHAVIOR ~ If the mere act of opening someone's journal cowers you into submission, chances are their superiority complex is working it's magic on you (though that really isn't what that type of behavior is about lol). You might want to nominate them before they have your head chopped off. Blogging, blogging, journals, new journals, great journal links, journals

BEST J-BRAT ON THE BLOCK ~ Reserved forthose bloggers ages 14 and under who already have it going on!

THE J-TEEN SUPREME ~ Okay. No one voted for this because it wasn't an option. I addedit after getting numerous emails concerning the ommision of a teen category. My apologies, teens. Now here's your chance! :-) Ages 15 to 18 only.

MOST ORIGINAL JOURNAL ~ Is someone's creativity in overdrive? Does their blog stand out as something unique? Well what are you waiting for?

THE MAD HATTER AWARD ~ Whining and complaining on a regular basis isn't enought to cut the mustard here! We need people who've raised bitching to the level of an artform!

I'S GOT GOOD GRAMMAR AWARD ~ And I'm STILL lmao that you guys chose this! Put simply, we're looking for the best-written journal. Not just perfect grammar and all that jazz, but text that flows seemlessly one word intothe next.

THE GREATEST STORY/STORIES EVER TOLD ~ There are several professional writers in J-Land as well as those taking a stab at making use of the pen a career. This could be someone who has an entire journal devoted to fictional stories or maybe just an exceptional entry or two to try out their craft on a unsuspecting audience. LOL!

MOST HEART-WARMING ENTRY ~ Well, duh. LMAO!

THE GOD SAVE THE QUEEN AWARD ~ Here, we should pretty much be looking for the British equivalent of SLOMO, the reigning Queen of J-Land.

SIR BLOGS-A-LOT ~ The best male journaler in the UK.

THE J-QUEEN OF ENGLAND ~ The best female journaler in the UK.

 

THE BEST WAY TO VOTE at this particular juncture is to look at the categories (which I will post shortly) and then meander throughout J-Land to find the people you think are best. Then:
                     1. Open their journal
                     2. Highlight the journal address in the URL bar
                     3. COPY AND PASTE THE ADDRESS in an email.
                    4. Keep doing this until you have a person for each category.
                     5. When you're done, send the email TO YOURSELF!

THEN AND ONLY THEN should you open the poll site!!! If you try to do them one at a time, you'll only get to vote for one person in one category! And I don't recommend trying to view the results until after you've voted for the same reason. But once that's complete,
                     6. Open the email to yourself and go to the poll site.
                     7. COPY AND PASTE your choices from your email to each category.

If a category calls for you to choose the specific address of an entry, then please do