AtoZ Interests and Hobbies-Motorcycles and Roller Derby

Hello again all you cool cats! So glad you stopped by on the AtoZ Challenge. Today's letter "I" stands for interests, of which I have many. Taxidermied squirrels, vigilante knitting, and roadkill art to name a few. But today I'll be reposting a homage to roller derby and my motorcycle from 2012. Enjoy!
 
Feel the Roller Derby Love
Have I mentioned that my new love is the roller derby? I almost went stag to the bout on Sunday. But the fabulous Misty Simon not only went with me, but spotted me ten bucks so I could purchase a new roller derby tee shirt!

I owe Misty more than $10. I owe her eternal fealty for making sure I got THIS!!!!

My new pretty.

Misty is now a hard core roller derby fan, just like myself. My plan is working. I'm adding to my roller derby fan girl crew one recruit at a time. No one knows who will be next!

The first pretty that the B.F.F. got for my birthday. It's my precioussss!!!

So I am now the proud owner of two very cool derby shirts, which just happen to match my motorcycle perfectly.

Vroom Vroom!!

Deep down, motorcycle owners know its all about the accessorizing.  When I had a bright yellow, purple and black Ninja, (which I'd named "the angry bumble bee") you know I had the yellow and black helmet to go with it.

And I swear, before any Harley owner is allowed to pick up their ride, they're forced to the back room to sign a contract stating they will wear all black and never smile whenever they're riding. (I'm sure the huge guy with the name "Bubba" stitched on his leather vest who's standing back there glowering at them had nothing to do with it.)

I'll never understand that, (the not smiling part, that is) because when I get to ride my motorcycle, this is what I look like:

from theluchboxdiaries.com

Back to the bout before I digress right off the page. I still haven't come up with my roller derby name yet, (The B.F.F. is still set on Pound Cake for some odd reason.)

There were a lot of good ones at the bout on Sunday. (sunday. Sunday! SUNDAAAAY! We'll sell you a ticket for the whole seat, BUT YOU'LL ONLY NEED THE EDGE!!!!!) Dawn of Valhalla, Ida Hitthat, Mystery Violence Theater 3000, and Dirty Girlscout were a few. But the name that had me giggling like an adolescent middle school boy every time they announced it was Her Heiny Granger.

So what's your new love? Is anything right now making you maniacally happy? Or do you have a crazy hobby you'd like to share? Lay it on us!

Now I have to get back to my Sea Monkey wars. They're gaining territory and I don't want them to get used to it. I will soon be engaging in some major chemical warfare. Until next time, Citizens!

AtoZ Happy Harryhausen Halloween or My Happy Place

Hey there, AtoZers! Nice to see some of you brave enough to venture back! For my theme I'm doing reruns because of the insanely busy schedule I have right now. I also have some type of flu bug running through my system at the moment, so I've been feeling guilty that I haven't gotten out to as many blogs as I'd like, but I'm majorly stressed out and sick, so...Sigh. Not enough time in a day.

Anywho, I couldn't decide on which rerun to post today, so it's a two-fer. The first was originally posted in 2012 and declares my sqeeing fangirl love for Ray Harryhausen movies. The second is from 2009--a post created out of self-preservation and gives you a glimpse of my Happy Place. Enjoy!

Harryhausen Halloween

I may have mentioned a time or two that I have a huge geek streak in me. (Right next to the evil one.) I adore the stop-motion work of Ray Harryhausen. Clash of the Titans was an all time favorite of my youth.

So for your Halloween delight, I found a tribute video on You Tube that showcases his fantastical creations. Here is a full list with pictures of all his creations from Harryhausen.com.

And here they are in their full stop motion glory. Enjoy and Happy Halloween!






My Happy Place


As I look around at the unicorns farting fruit scented air freshner, I take a bite of broccoli that tastes like chocolate and has zero calories. The elves and faeries have taken care of all my laundry. The gnomes found a cork to put in my incontinent dog, and the helpful little birdies are doing the cooking from now on.

Ahhhhh. Finally I can really concentrate on my solution to world peace. *Big sigh of contentment and fulfillment*


(DELIRIUM HAS SET IN! SEND HELP QUICK!!!)

AtoZ Greetings From the Sea Monkeys

Welcome back AtoZ fans! I hope you're having as much fun visiting blogs as I am. The list of participants are linked to the AtoZ badge over there in my sidebar if you'd like a quick link to who's participating. (After you're finished here, of course. lol)

Today's rerun comes from a post back in 2008. It was a piece I wrote for my writing group's newsletter, and contains the first official mention of sea monkeys at this blog. The Sea Monkeys made many more appearances as the years went on. For instance, any author who does an interview here, must complete the Sea Monkey S.A.T. portion at the end. Though I've been unable to bend them to my will and force them to become my minions to deliver my wrath, enjoy this first peek at why they're so dominant here.

Writing Versus Reality

Sea monkeys are living in my bathtub. Or, at least, that’s what I’m telling my husband. They come in the night and commandeer the shower, creating an environment conducive to sea monkey survival. That’s why I haven’t cleaned it lately. It’s a little known fact that sea monkeys are on the endangered species list. If I cleaned the tub more often, I’d literally be wiping out one of the largest known colonies on the planet. How could I live with myself?

The dust rhinos, on the other hand, are beginning to bully my dogs. I may need to do some eradicating in that arena soon. What am I talking about? Reality. Yes, reality. Reality crashing in and taking away from my time to write.

I wasn’t raised to be a slovenly housekeeper. On the contrary, being raised in the home of my grandmother, I can house clean with the best of them. I can shampoo rugs by hand, mix a powerful cleaning solution out of Borax, and fix an old Hoover faster than Macgyver. However, my ability to clean is not under scrutiny right now. The fact that I choose to sacrifice a supremely clean house for time to write is.

As an aspiring author, I’ve found I need to make trade offs with reality to fit in time to write. I’m sure I’m not alone. We all know it’s crucial to make time for the things important to us. In this case– writing. Unfortunately, no matter how sacred writing time is, reality continues to rear its ugly head and take bites out of any carefully laid schedule. Deftly gobbling up chunks of time set aside to write.

Tell me if this sounds familiar. Have to stop at the bank. Must do holiday shopping. Got to get the oil changed. Holy moly, what’s for dinner? Who used every square of toilet paper in the entire house?! Why didn’t you tell me before that you volunteered me for that? How come there’s no dish detergent? What happened to all the towels? Tell me again why you need to be driven to the library right now? If I don’t do the laundry soon I’ll have to beat it back with a stick when it walks out of there of its own volition.

You get the idea. Reality one; writing zero.

My advice? Let go of something small before all your writing time is eaten away. Having time to write is the only way an aspiring author can make it to authordom. Don’t let the reality time-eaters win!

Here are a few guidelines I’ve created to get that writing score a little higher and to ease my conscience from all the housework I am currently dodging. Feel free to adapt it to whatever you might decide to let slip in the name of that elusive writing time.

1. Dust leaves a lovely patina on furniture, especially if left undisturbed.
2. Dust bunnies make excellent pets.
3. Dog hair is the dog’s contribution to decor.
4. Same thing goes for cats.
5. Dish washing builds character in children.

So now you know my dirty little secret. My house is a bit messy, but I’m feverishly typing away in the small intervals of the day to change my status from aspiring to published. I refuse to let the small time-eating realities of everyday living erode what time I have to write. So fight the good fight and struggle on. And know that the sea monkeys are on your side.

AtoZ Freakout of the Groundhog Day Variety

Welcome once again to Tongue In Cheek. You all must have very strong constitutions to head back here for more. Today we have a rerun from 2012. It does get serious in one paragraph near the end. (I can't be all fun and games all the time around here.) But there's enough zaniness in the beginning to more than make up for it.

I also give you a peek at my back story, which may or may not explain everything. But at least it gives you a bigger picture. I hope you enjoy...

My Annual Groundhog Day Freakout

IM conversation between me and The Man earlier:

Me: Where do we keep our Liquid Nails?

The Man: Ummmm, at the store where they sell it?

Me: Ok. Do we have any more expanding foam? I broke our can of it and could really use some.

TM: Where are you?

Me: At home. Duh.

TM: What the hell are you doing?

Me: Nothing, at the moment, because I don't have the proper tools. Thus the questions. So are you going to help me out or what?

TM: I'm afraid to ask with what.

Me: Just the info I need. So what about the foam?

TM: I'm not answering that.

Me: Fine. But know this, if you're not with me you're against me. Just like the Urchins.

TM: For the record, I'm okay with that. Now can I get back to class?

Me: Fine, but we may need to go out to dinner tonight until the fumes disperse.

TM: Why?

Me: Why do we need to evacuate from fumes?

TM: No. Why all this?

Me: It's Groundhog Day.

TM: (silence) (more silence) Of course it is.

Yes, I have descended into the madness of spring cleaning and it's all the fault of that damn groundhog.

Growing up, I lived in a three story center hall colonial that was owned by my grandmother. Three generations under one roof. Let me tell you, that was...interesting.

But to add to the festivities, my grandmother, the matriarch of the household who could chew nails and spit rust, filled her home with antiques. Antiques  she acquired or fixed on her own. The house was like a museum. Only a museum where you'd never see everything, even if you lived there.

Believe me. I know.

This house had nine rooms, one and a half baths and three large halls. Plus a storage room and cellar. All full up to the brim with antiques. And we cleaned all of it. One room at a time. Now, when I say clean, I mean clean. My grandmother grew up on a farm and lived through the Great Depression. She knew how to clean a house.

First you'd empty the room of furniture. Then the curtains would be taken down and washed. Then you'd scrub the walls and ceilings. Next you would shampoo the oriental rugs by hand after beating them as they hung over the outdoor clothesline. Next you'd refinish the pine wood floors with homemade shellac. (Don't get me started on homemade shellac.)

Next every piece of furniture was dusted, waxed and polished. (We had 63 chairs in that house alone. I kid you not.) After that, all the knickknacks, most as fragile as egg shell, had to be dusted and put back exactly where they belonged. After all that, you reassembled the room. The whole process took several days of non-stop cleaning.

Then you started on the next room. Shampoo, rinse and repeat. Twelve times.

Now at my own house, for the majority of the year, I rebel against the mantra that was pounded into my head from a very young age - A place for everything and everything in its place. But right before Groundhog Day I find myself blurting it out.

And I know it's time. The groundhog is my alarm. Spring is coming. And along with it, spring cleaning.

But this year, I've taken it one step further into the realm of home repair. And I know I wouldn't be going that far if it weren't for the fact that my wonderful dog is dying. Everyday, it's a little harder for her to get up. A little harder to get around. She's eating less and less. I give her love every time I walk past. I tell her she's a good girl.

And I just want to bawl.

So I'm throwing myself into my spring cleaning with even more zealous gusto than usual. Here, right in front of me - this house- is something I can fix. Something I can put right. Since I can't fix Sox.

And so for now and the immediate days ahead I'm obsessive and fanatical and Puritanical in my need to cleanse and repair. And it's all the groundhog's fault.

AtoZ Eternal Devotion to Sideburn Art

Hello AtoZers! Travel back with me to September of 2011. This rerun is brought to you by my eternal, everlasting, enchanted, eager, earnest, devotion to the male sideburn. Don't forget to visit all the other hep cats participating in the AtoZ Challenge. Just click on the link in the sidebar to find a listing. But for now enjoy some...

Sideburn Art

Yes, the art of the sideburn.

Since time immemorial, men have cultivated the sideburn.



Over the millenia, sideburns have transformed and garnished male faces in many different ways.

As time marched on, More and more ways to incorporate the sideburn came to light.



But I believe the double threat of the mullet/sideburn one-two combo is just not playing fair. (Especially since my regular readers know how I feel about mullets.)


There are many famous sideburn sporting men. For example who could forget The King and his spectacular set of seventies sideburns? Muy Macho!



How about Spock's pointy ones used as a counterpoint to his pointy ears?



And how could I have a post on sideburns without a nod to the contemporary master Hugh "Wolverine" Jackman?



Now some men can go a bit far with their sideburn statements.





But, admitedly, there are a lot of different statements to be made with a well planned sideburn.





It takes a confident man to make a statement with his facial hair. So, to all my male readers out there, don't miss out on this purely masculine fashion opportunity. It's yours for the taking.

Be sure to vote in the comments for your favorite sideburns. I know it's a tough choice, but don't worry, I won't make you defend it.

AtoZ Dangerous Demon Rhythms of the Polka

 Here on D-Day for the AtoZ Challenge, I have a very dangerous post. It's the post that led to the hostile take-over of this blog by an extremist Eastern European Pro-Polka faction back in 2012. This post, however, is from 2010. I strongly caution you to watch the attached videos at your own risk. Please contact me if you need a polka intervention due to the graphic and disturbing polka images.

The Dangers of the Polka

There was a tee shirt I found a year ago that I should have bought as a reminder of the dangers of polka. It read, "I cannot resist the demon rhythms of the polka." Now it just may be too late.

There should have been constant vigilance on my part to keep the polka demons at bay. But the overwhelming oomp pah pahs have forced their way into my family. I should have seen the signs, but being so far away, my parents slipped right under my radar.

It started out small. You know, easily dismissible signs. The quiet polka record playing in the background when I call. Dad wearing a loud shirt in a recent picture. Mom's vehement defense of the pairing of clarinet and tuba. Oh, I should have seen it sooner.

But now they're watching this tv program every night: WARNING - DO NOT WATCH THE ENTIRE PROGRAM. HIGH RISK OF POLKA INFECTION.



So now I'm going to have to have a polka intervention before something irreversible occurs. Something like this:



And that is just so wrong. I have to protect them from themselves - before it really gets out of hand. I can see where they're headed. The ultimate in vile polka.



OHH the inhumanity!!! I need to prepare a detox program stat. I'm sending liberal doses of easy listening. Gordon Lightfoot, Burt Bacharach, Lionel Richie. Anything to deaden the polka effect. Hopefully I'll be able to pull them back from the edge before they start buying matching lederhosen.

*bone wracking shudder*

AtoZ - Conspiracy Theories

Welcome to day 3 of the AtoZ Challenge which brings us to the letter C. If you've spent any time at all here at Tongue In Cheek, you've come to find out that I have a mess of conspiracy theories bouncing around in my head. (One of my earliest posts from 2008 asks the hard question, Is Redneck Contagious?) But today, I'll treat you with one of my recent posts from 2013 wherein I attempt to warn the populace about...

Bratz, The Precursors to the Alien Invasion

It has long been my belief that Bratz were invented to smooth the way for a hostile alien invasion. Their rise in popularity will make the masses much more accepting of their new alien overlords.

Check out the similarities in their physical features.

pic from thehairpin.com

Note both possess the abnormally large slanted eyes. The lack of a definitive nose. The tiny body with huge head. Glam up this green one and you'd have a ringer. Wait, they already did that!

pic from the bestdolldress

So now they're beginning the subjugation of the younger generation through savvy toy marketing. You can tell they've done their homework. They know us well.

I of course, envision something like this happening in the very near future.

And have already begun programming my own Urchins against the indoctrination of alien space invaders. Every time they see a Bratz or their equally evil counterparts from Monster High, they immediately say things like, "Eeeew, Mommy. Look! They're so ugly!"

And it makes my heart glow with maternal pride that I have given them the rudimentary defense against the impending alien invasion.

AtoZ Boxing Squirrels

Hi AtoZers! Welcome back to Tongue In Cheek for day 2 of the Challenge. You're pretty intrepid if you returned after yesterday's Polkapocalypse. Today we have another look back at the best of Tongue In Cheek with squirrels going at it mano y mano. Yes, squirrels in the square ring. Dead, of course.

Enjoy!

Boxing Squirrels

Yes, squirrel boxing. Taxidermy style.



Apparently, some time around the 1930's it became popular to mount dead squirrels in a boxing ring, wearing trunks.



These coveted works of art are difficult to find, but they came to my attention because a gentleman in my area listed one for sale on Craigslist.

For $250.

(That's with the ring.)

Upon further investigation--because, really, how could I not--it was found that there's no limit to what taxidermied squirrels can do. (And apparently no limit to the supply of dead squirrels to do them on.)

As such.







Or even more lethal than rapiers, and my personal favorite.



So, what is it that you would have your taxidermy squirrels engaging in? (And yes, they even have them doing that.)

AtoZ Ava's Apocalypse

Hello AtoZers! Welcome to Tongue In Cheek, where everything is true, except for the stuff that isn't. I'm Ava Quinn, and this year I'll be posting reruns from the best of Tongue In Cheek (according to me) so you can get a better understanding of just how crazy it gets around here.

This first rerun comes from March 2012. In 2010, I staged a polka intervention for my parents who live in Montana. They were getting out of hand, so I sent liberal doses of Burt Bacharach, Lionel Richie and other easy listening standards to calm things down. And at the time, I may have said a few derogatory inflammatory not nice things about Polka.

Well an Eastern European renegade pro-polka group apparently took offense to some of the things I posted and remotely took over my blog for a time, using a high tech, tricked out schnitzel truck. But with some help from the Gnome Defense League's Gnome Underground Network (G.U.N.), who I used to do a little wet work for, and a core group of devoted local rednecks, I was able to prevail. So here are the last two Polkapocalypse posts from that year for you to enjoy.

THE TARGET:



THE TEAM:



THE ASSAULT VEHICLE:

THE CRACK HILLBILLY CONTINGENCY:



I mean, are they not the Charlie's Angels of rednecks?

I've gotten some intel back on the enemy. Most of the early disconcerting pictures have a striking resemblance to the famous images of the retreating Sasquatch. But I've finally received some definitive information on their most infamous polkaing teams. Their lederhosen are color coded based on their areas of expertise.

GREEN - Camouflage infiltration and snipers.



ORANGE - Demolitions experts.

picture from theguardian.com

I'm not sure what these guys do yet, but I have my suspicions.

huffingtonpost.com

Right now that's not important. Everything's set in motion. By this time tomorrow, God willing, I'll have my blog back.

The Polka Underground is going down!

 The Polkapocalypse Is Over!

It was a long and grueling struggle, but the Gnome/Hillbilly Contingency prevailed. We rousted those polka playing zealots right back to the underground where they belong.

With the Gnome Defense League's infamous element of surprise on our side and the crack redneck special forces behind us, we handed them their asses.

We had gnomes hidden everywhere - armed to the teeth.





We even had Gnome Commandos dropping from the roof like a scourge of the skies.



We meant business.

But don't be fooled. The schnitzel truck was no easy target. Those polka fiends brought the big guns. Literally.




It was a fierce and bloody battle and there were casualties on both sides.



But as the Redneck S.W.A.T. team laid down cover fire, a hootin' and a-hollerin' the whole time, Ninja Gnome crept in and planted explosives on the schnitzel truck.



And the war was won!



The after party was what legends are made of. It went on for a week. I've finally just taken back my yard. That's what took so long in bringing you the final update on the Polka Apocalypse.

Look for the party recap soon. Until then, Citizens: Beware the demon rhythms of the Polka!!!

Something Beautiful

to take you into your weekend. (Though the romance writer in me doesn't accept the ending. For me this is just the intro. Then I get to make up how they get together.) Enjoy!