Click Here, on this picture, I've gone techy and it'll link ya over to ~~>Comment For A Cause

Take a deep breath…close your eyes…no, scratch that, don’t close your eyes, I need you to read this. Ok, lets try this again, deep breath, say a few Oommmss and then try a wooosaawww. Relax your shoulders and think for a moment about anyone you know who has been a victim of physical abuse and/or in this same sentence, breast cancer. Ok, do we have an image of someone in our minds?

Good. Now lets think about comments. They can be short, they can be long. They can be filled with coffee spitting humor or as reflective as a needed review mirror. Sometimes comments can be uplifting and sometimes they can taste like a sour apple. Comments can also make a persons day or win them a book or gift certificate. Comments tell stories and comments can do awesome cartwheels like a cheerleader (I’ve witnessed it) ……

And now……

Comments can earn money for two great causes.

Every comment from the 1st of October till the last day of October that is left on Heathers Blog, Singing With My Heart earns one quarter, that’s .25 cents per comment toward two extremely important causes

~~ The Susan G. Koman Foundation and for the
National Coalition Against Domestic Violence~~

I know, I don’t need to write anything further because you’re ready to click the link or click the picture to go make several comments. But let me just say this. It’s for a good cause! 4 comments makes a buck for charity. Why wouldn’t you do it? Huh? Huh? Just curious of course, but, huh? (I’m watchin you) You could just comment, “Rebecca made me do it” then grin, and run for it. Or, you could get really into racking up the comment bucks and win yourself a 25 DOLLAR gift certificate to Amazon.

Comments on this Post are closed, because, I’d appreciate it sooo much, if you went over to Heathers and left a comment, any comment, need an idea? Leave this comment….”Rebecca made me do it”

~Thank You~
And to answer my own question
Comments are priceless
(plus one quarter)

 Yesterday brought the first day of October and with that new date an impressive show of bone chilling cold to Idaho. Well hello Mr. Fall/Winter you sorta kicked Summer and her blazing warm panties off her September soapbox, now didn’t ya. I’m ok with that because I was pretty tired of wearing my warm weather clothing and hats all the time. Plus my favorite pair of flip-flops broke on Tuesday, so that was a decent time to say buh-bye to Summer.

Kate in the Red Kilt

I spent the last official weekend of warm weather outside with my family listening to beautiful music and watching lots and lots of men in kilts walking around. At this point I totally get the historical romance novels and why those buxom babes swoon over their Highland scoundrels. A guy in a kilt is rather sexy.

Of course, my Mother who plays the bagpipes and my daughter who plays the snare drum were also in kilts, but for a lady it can’t be sexy (especially family), so it’s just cool. Watching Kaitlyn perform next to all the big giant men in kilts is jaw dropping for me personally, as the El Mommasun. She always looks so teenie tiny, which she is of course, because she’s only 5 feet 1 whole inch. My other daughter Shelby is a short shrimp as well at 5 feet 2 whole inches. The fact I, who is tall enough not to personally know a single female taller than me, is perplexed by my short daughters. Genetically speaking, they should have been at least 5 foot plus 8 inches or more…….

Yesterday Provocation of Mine experienced another 404-error blackout for an estimated 5 hours. I know the world kept spinning for everyone else, but for me, I have learned certain lessons when it comes to messing with webspace in ones domain administration page. To put it simple, don’t touch things. In fact, just stay away from the interior bowels, don’t even sign in to look around. Basically, I humbly swear, never to touch a damn thing again…for I am undeniably voodoo cursed.

That’s it, that’s all I’ve got for today. I wish everyone a happy and enjoyable October.

For the Ladies

This entry is for the ladies.
Men, if you read it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
(exclamation point to the tenth degree)
(seriously, I WARNED YOU, no whining)

I’ve got it.
It only took 30 some odd years to come up with the perfect verbal rebuttal system against all things boy/man whine.
 But I’ve got it now.
I am locked and loaded.

Now, I wouldn’t throw out random verbal prescriptions to the ladies without putting said system through a rigorous beta testing phase first, so I can assure, this system works, 99.9% of the time. In fact, after a four week clinical trial with my very own lab rat who I shall identify as Robert aka “The Husband” my success rate is smoking red effective.

Sooo……to explain. You all know how men can be sorta big babies about things right? Prone to whiner moments, a bit dramatic over things us ladies typically go, ya? so whats the big deal? It’s common knowledge a woman can swiffer sweep the house, do three loads of laundry, wash windows and juggle 3 children on her hip at the same time she has a 104 degree temp and only pauses to throw up occasionally— while a man with a slight sniffle will dive onto the nearest couch and text message the closest estrogen to retrieve the remote 5 feet away…ya know, cause he’s got a sniffle. (if your male, and you’re reading this, please review the first paragraph again)  Well gather around, I have a solution.

Dialogue from the Clinical Trial:

Lab Rat: “I think my elbow hurts from picking up that box the other day.”
My response: “I have the worst cramps today, like a chainsaw massacre in my pelvis.”
Results~ A slight look of perplexed confusion followed by a no reply retreat. No mention of the elbow again.

Lab Rat: ” My back hurts, mind giving me a back rub?”
My Response: “Sure, but first will you run to the store and buy some tampons? I’m out.”
Results~ A sputter. A mutter. Another withdrawal. Neither request was honored.

Lab Rat: “I just don’t feel like working today.”
My Response: “I think having a period should be like the olden days when ladies got to lounge in a red tent and be honored for her womb. What do you think? No working for me while I renew each month?”
Results~ Hands thrown up in the air, quick about face and off to work he went. I think I’ll still lobby for that renewel vacation.

Lab Rat: “I’m in a bad mood, so and so pissed me off on that conference call.”
My Response: “I’m full of rampant unpredictable hormones that are prone to crying jags or hateful thoughts because I’m about to start my period…I’m sorry, why were you in a bad mood?”
Results~ Blank stare. Took three steps back, did an about face and went away mumbling sumthin’. I can’t be sure, but I believe it instantly took his mind off his bad conference call. Soooooo sweet of me.

Lab Rat: “Ohhh Ohhhh, I got a paper cut!!!!!”
My Response: “If it bleeds for 7 days we can discuss it.”
Results~ A bit of revulsion and I believe he responded, “Good hell, don’t put those images into my mind!!” I classify it a successful bit of perspective.

 And so on……..

However, with any good prescription and clinical trial, the warnings and possible side effects must be disclosed. There is only one and I’ve decided I can live with it.

Rebecca: “Whats wrong with you? You seem quiet today.”
Lab Rat: “I’m not telling you.”
Rebecca: “Why not? Whats up?
Lab Rat: “If I tell you anything you’ll say, cramps, or menstruation or mention tampons or childbirth, things no man wants to ever think about, so I admit nothing!”
Rebecca: “When you end a sentence with such finality you should pause and say period!”

Ya know, I was skeptical about this whole ‘Wife’ gig for some time, but I really think I’m getting the hang of it!! Use the power of verbal persuasion wisely. Think of it as shooting bullets from a six shooter, only point at what you are willing to silence, period.

 Bleeding Heart Disclaimer: no living specimens were physically or emotionally harmed during this clinical trial. Bouts of laughter and good smiles were observed, but we are of the belief that’s never a bad thing.

Recently I was hired for a writing job. The hiring process went a bit like this……..

Evil: “Hey, you’re a writer, will you freelance a report for our company?”
Rebecca: “Oh, I don’t know, I write and all, but I really don’t think I’m that sort of writer.”
Evil: ” We’ll pay you XY plus Z for 50 pages.”
Rebecca: “Send over the contract, I am your gal!”

By page 5…I thought I would die. No, really….D…I…E…..
As in, take a letter opener, jab it into one eyeball, go stir crazy and paper cut my wrists until I bleed dry–Dead. Gone. DIE.

I didn’t know I would hate—no hate isn’t strong enough—despise, technical report writing when I sold my soul to the devil. I figured it might be boring and tedious, but I had no idea I would pray for a flesh eating bacterial infection or a bout of E.coli to get me off the hook. Nothing spells sympathetic job release like a call from the ICU in a hospital saying, “I’m sooo sorry, you’ll have to get someone else to do it, I’m conversing with death, no Wi-Fi, only IV’s.”

50 pages of mind numbing boredom. 50 pages of zero humor. I didn’t get to write the word ass one single time. I didn’t get to use a metaphor or crack a single snarky sentence over their corporate heads. I had to pay attention to grammar and use a spell check. I had to research the most boring information I’ve ever absorbed and despite the fact I became a lip strumming psycho by page 50, I fear I may have learned a few things about the Internet. Excuse me…… sorry, I think I just vomited a bit in the back of my throat.  

There’s a good chance I’ll carry a mental scar for the rest of my natural born writing life. It was so painful and internally traumatic that a person just doesn’t forget and move on. I fear the next person who says to me, “Hey, you’re a writer, right?” will witness me sticking my fingers in my ears and running as fast as I can the opposite direction screaming, find a happy place, find a happy fucking place………

Did I mention it was bad and that I didn’t enjoy writing a technical report?

I did learn a few things about myself during that paid writing torture. For one, I’d fall down dead before I’d admit failure or quit something even if it feels like someone is driving tiny red hot pokers into my skull every five minutes. And two, I am NOT a writer. Not that sort. Not even close. The people who write in that field must be a special breed of super patience. Personally, I’d rather exfoliate an entire elephant with a toothbrush than suffer that sort of writing job again.

Therapy ~ This is purely part of the ”healing the writer within me”, recovery program. I’m hoping it will help settle the night terrors and occasional gag reflex I’m still suffering.
Ass, ass, ass, ass, ass…..There now, I feel better already.

99 plus 1

This entry marks my 100th blog entry for Provocation of Mine (d) Oh, Hello CHA-CHING ~
Of course the number does not reflect the true number of blog entries I’ve flung out over the years since I have moved locations a few times, but still…..100….in this blog…..in under a years time.

I’m on freakin fire……….

A few weeks ago I was in the living room when I could hear laughter coming from the office. It rang out, then went quiet, then I’d hear a chuckle, then quiet, repeat about five times before I hauled myself up and went in to see if my husband was watching puppet pornos or something worse on his computer.

Low and behold I busted him big time. Reading this site. The visual evidence, Provocation on his screen, and I took a deep breath and inquired, “So…..I heard you laughing, does that mean everything is all good? I mean, before you say anything, the way I see it, I refrain brilliantly from using the millions of moments I could use you for easy blog fodder” and he responded, “Everything is fine, I’m enjoying this. Not only do I like how you write, but I’m also reading the comments and there is some pretty hilarious stuff in here from the readers.”

~Hilarious is right~
In honor of my 100th post I present my version of a comment snapshot blitz.
Here are some excerpts from over 1500 comments, taken out of context, mini-highlights, randomly chosen for my amusement purposes.

• Come to think of it, I’m a diet soda whore
• Multiple husbands would have to be stabled like horses and each one taken out for exercise individually
• Multiple wives means multiple PMS. No way!!
• The favorite search term I’ve ever seen used to reach my site was one for “Hot Amish Sex.” I pictured a lonely, old Mennonite with a butter-churning fetish
• Once you go Blackberry, you never go back(berry)
• I don’t see the humour in this. My wife would tell you that I am nothing like that. No, you can’t have her cell number
• I am about to throttle my brain because I’m refraining from not touching the double entente land mines you placed in the first paragraphs
• My mind went right there. Not sure what that says about the company you’re keeping
• You, missy, are a bad influence
• In my mind I am picturing you chanting “The power of Christ compels you, The power of Christ compels YOU!”
• You scare me, Ms. Might Kick A Man In The Package for amusement purposes
• A few crossed wires and he might have gotten a phone sex line, which, I must say, has not been the same since they outsourced it to India
• I’d tell you all sorts of moral strictures about parenting and all, but who really wants to hear that from a childless Atheist who listens to Marilyn Manson all the time?
• I am totally afraid to click on that link…..you gals are scaring me!
• Hooray for boobies!!!!
• You ain’t nuffin but a hound dog
  provocin’ me all the time
  You ain’t nuffin but a hound dog
  From a place called op de zoom
  You can walkabout all you want
  But your ass will never be mine.

Pure Poetry in my humble opinion.  Thank you brilliant contributors.