Final Rose

The blog entry name is supposed to be a play on the Bachelor/Bachelorette TV shows. I think they have a "rose ceremony" with a "final rose" but I am not really 100% sure since I don't watch that crap.

In unrelated news, I missed another episode of How I Met Your Mother...(it is NOT crap AVR!)

Goodbye September poem:  

Roses are finished.
Violets are over.
I have no idea what poem
I'll do for October.

In Memory of Mr. B

My sister's new father-in-law passed away this past week, and his funeral was Saturday. In his memory, and in following with his wishes of reminder to all, I am submitting this public service poem.

I am trying to light-heartedly point out that you need to go to the doctor for regular checkups and recommended colonoscopy every now and then. I am not making light of his death, but I imagine this is the kind of tone he would prefer people to have.

Taking care of yourself poem:

Regular checkups are necessary.
Blood work is super.
And be sure to have to the doc
Check out your pooper.

Even so, I can't help but write something a little serious about him. Mr. B was the kind of guy you really looked forward to getting to know better. For those of you who didn't have the pleasure at all, I will tell you that he was able to talk to anyone, he had (and maintained) a perfectly dry sense of humor, and he could take a step back and honestly evaluate himself. Those are all qualities to which I aspire.

There are lots of ways to "go," but Mr. B did it with dignity and selfless foresight. We are all better people for having known him, I just wish we could have had longer.

His sons have been hugged.
His wife has been kissed.
But no planning will ease
How much he'll be missed.

Blackberries: Have to Pick a Sweet One

Ok, I owe some back-poetry here. Sorry.

So here is something I want to rant about: my blackberry. I have the new(ish) Blackberry Bold and let me tell you - don't bother. But I am going to keep making them replace mine for free until I get one that works. It is like the reverse lottery, I am just waiting to get what I paid for.

Blackberry poem:

Cameras and games are awesome.
Web surfing is a ball.
But I'd prefer if my phone
Could place an Effing call.

Ed. Note: Inspiration shout out to Mon who suggested this topic after receiving my ump-teenth request on Blackberry Messenger.

Writer's Block

I am having writer's block........

Daily entries are dogged.
My thoughts are quite frank.
But it is hard to blog
When my mind is blank.

Retrosexuality

So there is a new word being discussed at the water cooler lately and generally speaking, no one likes a new word or phrase more than I do.

However, I am not sure I can get on board with this latest creation..."retrosexual."  Now I know what a heterosexual is, and I know what a homosexual is.  I even learned what a metrosexual was a while back (in fact I lived with one.)  But this whole retrosexuality thing I'm not so sure about.

So here's the deal: with the advent of all of these social networking sites, people are reconnecting with old friends and old flames.  So when you rekindle that old romance, the media powers that be are calling that retrosexuality.

In some ways I understand the draw of this regressive dating.  I was a lot more put together in, say, high school.  Also, I was more easily defined; that is to say my role and how I fit in to life was much clearer. Sometimes I wish people would see me now as how I was then.

But still, that isn't how life works? That you change and don't get to go back? Isn't it sort of cheating to erase everything you have done since high school? It seems that way. And if you can't make some kind of improvement from what you have learned in the meantime, maybe stay away from MySpace and Facebook for a while to avoid the temptation.

Retrosexuality poem:

Some new guys are awesome,
And others are overrated.
The only ones I know won't do
are those I've already dated.

Be Hari-ful Near Electronics

[Disclaimer: this is yet another incredibly vain post.]

Ok so let's talk hair. My hair is getting caught everywhere lately. It constantly gets stuck under the strap of my bag, when I sit back it gets caught between me and the chair, and when I am cruising around with the sun roof open, it gets sucked right out.

Clearly it is time for a trim, but I have two totally ridiculous concerns about this. First of all, I am going to have to cheat on the guy who cuts my hair and go somewhere else cheaper. I do love him so very much, but there is no reason for anyone this poor to pay a $20 premium for excellent flirting skills and an adorable accent. Second, I am concerned I am going to look older. It isn't easy for us non-22-year-olds to fit in with the law school, district attorney's office crowd. People don't question me now but post-weed whacking, who knows? Maybe I am like the Sampson of looking youthful (Bible character shout out).

What is that you say? On a scale of zero to ten your pity level is a 0.2. Yea, I figured.

If you think that is ridiculous, I just want you to know that this kind of madness of runs in my family. My dad* has crazy long, brambly, bushy eyebrows which he refuses to cut. I have told him on many occasions that children will think he is trying to steal Christmas.

I truly and honestly believe that he does not cut them because he strokes them as he thinks (as an old wise man would stroke a beard) and he is afraid he will not be able to think as well without them.

Anyway enough about other people, back to me.  This length hair is flat out dangerous, I say it has to go.

Hair poem:

Godiva was great,
Rapunzel was better
But my hair hangs too long
To go near a shredder.

* I feel totally comfortable making fun my dad of because he never reads this blog of his own free will - his fault.

Band Names

I had a drink of vino with some of my fabulous cousins tonight (don't try to out-cousin me, you lose before the firing gun even goes off). One of the many things we discussed was a band of a mutual friend of theirs. This made me think about something I hadn't thought about in a while: band names.

I admit that in the past I have often judged bands by their names. Not bands whose music I have heard before, but the bands who are pre "making it" phase. Those I judge. Come on, don't eye roll or head shake, I'll bet you judge too.

Like for instance take this situation: You have a free ticket to a music festival. There are two bands playing at the same time of different stages. One is called "Dog Ate My Homework" and one is called "Toe Fungus." Which one are you going to? Yea, I thought so.

Band Name poem:

Kings of Leon is regal.
Black Eyed Peas is cheery.
But my band would be named
Space-time continuum theory.

How I Almost Didn't Meet Your Mother

So, last night I went the the parental units' abode to mooch off of their leftover food, and then I went to class and I'll be darned if I didn't miss the season premiere of one of my favorite shows: How I Met Your Mother.

I have gone months without seeing any new Barney Stinson and I can't take it anymore. Luckily I did not miss the meeting of the mother (just the usual hinting that it was close, which it never really is.)

Missed Season Premiere poem:

Class is one great event.
Family dinner is another.
But I don't prefer either
During How I Met Your Mother.

Boyfriend Orientation, Pt. 1

I always think it is important for a couple to communicate.

That is why I have instituted boyfriend orientation. Orientation allows you to tell that special guy in your life some things that you really just don't like. That way he doesn't waste money or effort doing something or giving something that you don't care for, and you don't have to pretend to like it.

I have a "few things to avoid" in my boyfriend orientation. The first is a certain kind of flower, which I find repulsive for the below reason. On a more positive note, I love getting flowers - particularly when they smell so fresh! (Mmmm...I am thinking of you, stargazer lily...)

Boyfriend education poem:

Hydrangeas are romantic.
Lilies are sweet.
But don't send carnations
'Cause they smell like feet.

Stand Up Comedy is Not in my Future

Do you want to hear something weird? I am working at the District Attorney's office this semester and we had to do a mock jury pick on Friday. Part of the critique of my "performance" was that I was never going to be a stand up comedian, but that I had a serious nature that works well and I should develop my technique around that.

I find this particularly funny because I can NOT stop joking around. I'm not saying my one liners are funny, I'm just saying I tell them it all the time. I use humor so people will like me, I use humor when I'm bored to entertain myself, I use humor to make people feel more comfortable, I use humor to make myself stand out, and I use humor even when it is not appropriate.

I guess that's it really, I just found it funny. So maybe I do have no sense of humor.

Some humor is calming.
Some quips are good chatter.
But when I choose a jury
It's no joking matter.

Hindenburgs in our Future?

Ok, I have noticed in several sci fi (not SyFy) movies and shows about the future or an alternate reality that people travel in blimps.

I thought as a species, we had established that the blimp is unreliable...did I miss something? My favorite ridiculous blimp use is during inter-species battle or to keep A VIP safe from what is happening on land. I have watched a ton of TV and movies, and I never heard any villain say "We have to kill that guy attached to a huge, slow-moving bag full of explosive gas but I just can't figure out how."

Anyway, I hope that scientists figure out something more reliable because I don't want my kids riding around in one of those things. Of course I'm sure my grandparents felt the same way about my dad's Harley. Still, the only blimp I care to see is the tire-promoting one hovering over the Cowboys games.

Blimp poem:

Space ships are awesome.
Teleporting is pimp!
But I don't see "future us"
Traveling around in a blimp.

New Years State of Mind

On my birthdays, my aunt used to always tell me "I can tell, this is going to be a special year for you." I think she meant that I was going to find someone (which I have not yet) but actually, she was literally right. Most years of my life have been better than some people will ever experience.

I bring this up because I have been thinking lately that how happy you are is so clearly a function of your attitude. Actually I have been thinking this since I saw Liz Murray speak. She has this incredible story about how she went from a homeless teenager to a Harvard student. (Check out a brief overview here.) Her whole life changed when she was able to look at the same things in a different way.

So this Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year) I am going to try and keep this little trick in mind. When I am down or annoyed or uninspired, I am going to try and consider what the positive view might be. That is my New Year's resolution.

Jewish New Year poem:

Frustration is unproductive.
Worry is for naught.
Instead harness the power
of positive thought.

I Don't Understand Twhy

I am about to show you how uncool I am, but I do not understand Twitter.

As far as I can tell by not being a "tweeter," Twitter is the same thing as a constantly updating your facebook status. And it requires its own network, but I already have a facebook network and I think that is sufficient. Though I do love perusing people's facebook statuses when I'm bored, I don't really want to be constantly e-bombarded with everyone's tweets.

Normally I would be 100% supportive of something that involves making up its own vocabulary. (The "peeps" who follow your tweets = tweeps. Love it!) And the one benefit I see is that you are limited to 140 characters, which makes effective tweeting pretty much like effective plogging. But still, I can't get on the twagon.

Feel free to disagree.

Twoem(?):

Email is instant.
Love letters are sweet.
But I don't understand
Why people tweet.

300

Someone call the A&M marching band and the Quick Change* people and tell them to get ready for a show. We are having a virtual celebration: my blog got to 300 hits! And don't bother calling to tell Gerard Butler (pictured above). He already knows since he is coming to this virtual soiree as my date.

I would like to give shout out to those who have made it possible: my mom's tuna rice salad, to my moral compass KK and her assistant Uh-rck, and to everyone who reads this doggerel and tomfoolery.

300 Poem:

Authoring poems is challenging,
Reader comments are divine!
There are so many blogs out there
I am delighted that you read mine.

* No joke, check out the Quick Change people - they are so cool. I saw them at basketball games before they were on America's Got Talent and they are so entertaining! I want to have them perform at my 40th birthday party. In 22 years. Twenty two years from 2011, that is.

Update: Further Time Wasting

House votes to "admonish" Walsh

Seriously, this guy Walsh is a jerk or he isn't a jerk or whatever your opinion is, but would our elected officials mind terribly focusing on what may be the most important thing they do in their careers? Awesome, thanks guys and gals.

One step down from a "Dear John" letter to the House poem:

Debate is good,
But wasting time is dumb.
We didn't elect you
To twiddle your thumbs.