tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14923486692685599122024-03-12T23:15:39.263-07:00Betsey BoomsMrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.comBlogger344125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-812889311693796512009-10-23T12:29:00.000-07:002009-10-23T12:34:54.523-07:00On The Next Intervention...The mister and I have the most disgusting habit. <br /><br />Every Friday it hits, without fail. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcTnmk4-1NrQJbTXrkuVO9oOr9GopqFDCm4xQ0Vc2gQsgWa7LNxXDO3l8wwBZ4gx-9YNSn0-cY4lyY2wCMihHCNoy9f53f70YPg4JYPPDX70t2WxywPufohq0attuLA_XUPaA3IJoLDIx4/s1600-h/Mac+Gorge-pola.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 329px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcTnmk4-1NrQJbTXrkuVO9oOr9GopqFDCm4xQ0Vc2gQsgWa7LNxXDO3l8wwBZ4gx-9YNSn0-cY4lyY2wCMihHCNoy9f53f70YPg4JYPPDX70t2WxywPufohq0attuLA_XUPaA3IJoLDIx4/s400/Mac+Gorge-pola.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395880040918945218" /></a><br /><br />Usually it's of the Big Mac variety of craving. But just last Friday found me shoving Chicken McNuggets in my face so frantically that the last one was still hot when I got to it and my fries even managed to be on the still extremely warm side when I got to them. Salty, fried goodness. <br /><br />The above picture happened just today. And this is the mister moments before the interventionists burst through the door:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrRCZUIhZzjG4_xuCV9q6Pi8mrybxU7sw6fY9hpYvUo9Dl1leV09dZ7f1v1wUjmvpYijwh0d0oiy-UZ2W2_DWaLNwzfSfqheA9YgKAcwjpyFhIWYbt8-Illw3J98npmKwyUZFPLGXMHpF8/s1600-h/Mac+Attack-pola.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 329px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrRCZUIhZzjG4_xuCV9q6Pi8mrybxU7sw6fY9hpYvUo9Dl1leV09dZ7f1v1wUjmvpYijwh0d0oiy-UZ2W2_DWaLNwzfSfqheA9YgKAcwjpyFhIWYbt8-Illw3J98npmKwyUZFPLGXMHpF8/s400/Mac+Attack-pola.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395880647675804834" /></a><br /><br />Actually, they never showed. He was just upset that I made him pause. It was after Noon afterall. I'd made him wait long enough for the crack with special sauce on a sesame seed bun. <br /><br />For more on our Mac Attack and what we're up to check us out at <a href="http://houseofbooms.blogspot.com">the house that booms built</a>.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-31953802019045020092009-10-23T06:42:00.000-07:002009-10-23T06:44:25.563-07:00Where I AmHey all... I just thought I'd take a moment to share with anyone who might still be subscribed.<br /><br />Jason and I have a <a href="http://houseofbooms.blogspot.com/">new blog</a>. So come by and check us out. It is by no means as exciting as "all of this" (big hand wave in this blog's general direction). But? It is mostly everything we've been up to lately. <br /><br />Enjoy.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-24118325207871745322009-09-16T07:19:00.000-07:002009-09-16T07:30:16.651-07:00And By Hostage I Mean He's In The Basement Watching TVWhen the mister and I were at lunch today we overheard a news story about someone being held hostage for 18 years. And he was all, "how can you be held hostage for 18 years"?<br /><br />And that's when I said, "Easy, I've held you hostage for the last five. You call it marriage, I call it "hostage negotiation."<br /><br />He laughed so he didn't believe me, but I have terms if anyone wants to hear them. My "husband" is being held hostage until at least one of the following things happens:<br /><br />This man gets his own show: <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrW35NdTkVMAObsmiUfkugPXptnXdumhdTRy-XLz02RoPTujIocXH06IaQXxNP6w4wu71cvd69vMaLR5xAVCQdPDEbKK2hMkMhTP22vTftOsAfaxUsvJDK5v3Tw0RrFSpwWcFAqvulEN8/s1600-h/scott-bakula.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 289px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrW35NdTkVMAObsmiUfkugPXptnXdumhdTRy-XLz02RoPTujIocXH06IaQXxNP6w4wu71cvd69vMaLR5xAVCQdPDEbKK2hMkMhTP22vTftOsAfaxUsvJDK5v3Tw0RrFSpwWcFAqvulEN8/s400/scott-bakula.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381791181011560770" /></a><br /><br />or<br /><br /><br />They bring this show back with Sam still traveling: <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0G3DoT2LEq__DqQGMdGS7rjwW0KupQvmVt6gKKYGIfxImSF2jHOHAE8pQS5QvTvISCm82n7irOCnP72krqwUliVwRWS_h2rJINg2r5tyfhyphenhyphenCB2rKQZbpb-R-Jyw8qjJbLq41bhY5ecto/s1600-h/quantum-leap.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 366px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0G3DoT2LEq__DqQGMdGS7rjwW0KupQvmVt6gKKYGIfxImSF2jHOHAE8pQS5QvTvISCm82n7irOCnP72krqwUliVwRWS_h2rJINg2r5tyfhyphenhyphenCB2rKQZbpb-R-Jyw8qjJbLq41bhY5ecto/s400/quantum-leap.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381791169986337938" /></a><br /><br />or finally:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAUK5Y2OZ7wy-ALXZzfMl9Ujo85CFFqkAX8d0cBJ-6Pq4b3HOUfOkVhrpZ1csrsGJiSI5MgUJgxPy69aOgmES30iWOUU-KL2UzgTE_HtQoyDRXCd3tUL8f0Rs0ZsgThTB3jpzmGgSB2g/s1600-h/airwolf.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAUK5Y2OZ7wy-ALXZzfMl9Ujo85CFFqkAX8d0cBJ-6Pq4b3HOUfOkVhrpZ1csrsGJiSI5MgUJgxPy69aOgmES30iWOUU-KL2UzgTE_HtQoyDRXCd3tUL8f0Rs0ZsgThTB3jpzmGgSB2g/s400/airwolf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381791161070504306" /></a><br /><br />That's right, somebody needs to reanimate at least half of this picture and put a zombie ass Airwolf on the air. Mostly because there is nothing wrong with a reanimated Ernest Borgnine that I can figure out. <br /><br />I feel the way you are looking at me and I don't know WHAT your problem is. <br /><br />Oh and he's not REALLY being held hostage. I think he likes it here and the idea of these shows being on the air. <br /><br />Also? There are not enough shows with eye patches these days.<br /><br /><br />***<br /><br />I kind of think they missed the real opportunity with the movie Roadhouse, because Patrick Swayze and Sam Elliot wearing tight pants and kicking beer bottles out of ruffians hands was legendary.<br /><br />If they just added a bearded Kenny Loggins to the crime fighting team we would have had the BEST action hero trio in history.<br /><br /><br /><br />PS: Evidently I have to clarify, just because Ernest Borgnine is alive doesn't mean he doesn't need to be reanimated. Plus? Who wants to spell out Jan Micheal Vincent all the time? I have to use this joke more than once, you know.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-86203382773887698282009-09-15T12:10:00.000-07:002009-09-15T12:11:29.334-07:00Evidently I Hate Myself, But Stay Tuned For Tight Pants Kicks and AirwolfFriday afternoon, I picked up my daughter's copy of "Twilight". Yes, I wanted to beat myself with the book. <br /><br />And, two days later, I finished off the second book "New Moon". <br /><br />My thoughts:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVnikcVxkuqtZ9mqoTe59_ILybHOUpviZWge9DzPq8z0UpTjMang3q2u7frEoOv4d7-R4WOQrINDbWb7fGycSNCf3x6O1UjZUs_r79YRQjhAyAMW7F7-EiOJI2sUyN9cGaviEqVKnvTfY/s1600-h/Edward_Cullen.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVnikcVxkuqtZ9mqoTe59_ILybHOUpviZWge9DzPq8z0UpTjMang3q2u7frEoOv4d7-R4WOQrINDbWb7fGycSNCf3x6O1UjZUs_r79YRQjhAyAMW7F7-EiOJI2sUyN9cGaviEqVKnvTfY/s400/Edward_Cullen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381337617730186402" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2ubohmPYkvGZHh7SjFyzYUnhse0qUJmoHBMdlYXbGgH2k3DzM0is7fYQml2Hb_9aAEC1g1cn315ktRncX_uLN9qI3_lzmWSV-8gAsx9Vv9xSO9JgQ0CvtM1bn_1xTolDC7DzELygjTw/s1600-h/vampirebill.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2ubohmPYkvGZHh7SjFyzYUnhse0qUJmoHBMdlYXbGgH2k3DzM0is7fYQml2Hb_9aAEC1g1cn315ktRncX_uLN9qI3_lzmWSV-8gAsx9Vv9xSO9JgQ0CvtM1bn_1xTolDC7DzELygjTw/s400/vampirebill.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381337372155795922" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY86u9r3Gg4kgtVUUMh-mD39i36xiFr3qbj8J8dRd07XUm9q8aJ8juHgn1F4dJJq4iPrSLV99jCR8TPG35LFLoK2IZSCl4c0B-uhtp2HOTCe7k-Blb3blt9LyTwRlV9M0jQZeaDhyphenhyphenyhAk/s1600-h/louis.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY86u9r3Gg4kgtVUUMh-mD39i36xiFr3qbj8J8dRd07XUm9q8aJ8juHgn1F4dJJq4iPrSLV99jCR8TPG35LFLoK2IZSCl4c0B-uhtp2HOTCe7k-Blb3blt9LyTwRlV9M0jQZeaDhyphenhyphenyhAk/s400/louis.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381335664317002210" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg44sHj5Hs-hh-nqvlracOxI0_UXCgB-DQ2buTYxTeBBYvvzGeCuDA9n7tBlLjtaE76v5ZwI3dE6p2J-X6lhvnJw-bOWAUa4Vq3t4JWgWG1NNxzCCwIp2SR1SJHXdNTOvSz27qv00egeEA/s1600-h/Eric.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 217px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg44sHj5Hs-hh-nqvlracOxI0_UXCgB-DQ2buTYxTeBBYvvzGeCuDA9n7tBlLjtaE76v5ZwI3dE6p2J-X6lhvnJw-bOWAUa4Vq3t4JWgWG1NNxzCCwIp2SR1SJHXdNTOvSz27qv00egeEA/s400/Eric.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381335662322511346" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidrGz17U31vHm5VmZzcn9Hi3bA7665d37syv5VPzc3bGosYyveCQn8bqnDHpFyfyxn1Wf3asg4wC4tPoUcY1I98laNSeML99seMvhvGR1rRYO8zZS4S7xw7QdnlGN0FG8J-tlwW11wc0M/s1600-h/Lestat.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidrGz17U31vHm5VmZzcn9Hi3bA7665d37syv5VPzc3bGosYyveCQn8bqnDHpFyfyxn1Wf3asg4wC4tPoUcY1I98laNSeML99seMvhvGR1rRYO8zZS4S7xw7QdnlGN0FG8J-tlwW11wc0M/s400/Lestat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381335658075922690" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQQArwx7w3i_wRoFLnre7kHMVps_IaAUzp_Kspcf2fQq_qny1fvYlzZh06blaDXBLZqZ1Iwom3Uh_2U8FDXPXg5VgxXPDNzdwAkkAQDdNrhigHOYh0u5Y3a_3pgV8IcHevQV_15rjafg/s1600-h/soylent.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQQArwx7w3i_wRoFLnre7kHMVps_IaAUzp_Kspcf2fQq_qny1fvYlzZh06blaDXBLZqZ1Iwom3Uh_2U8FDXPXg5VgxXPDNzdwAkkAQDdNrhigHOYh0u5Y3a_3pgV8IcHevQV_15rjafg/s400/soylent.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381335652607310690" /></a>Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-68584967422171635502009-08-12T11:49:00.001-07:002009-08-12T13:09:01.599-07:00She Was A Good Blog. She Always Tried Her Best And Never Ate Too Much...I think it's pretty obvious that Betsey Booms has been dying a slow death for a while now. <br /><br />She's sickly and inhibited. She coughs even on her best days. She has a swagger, but it is eerily similar to Val Kilmer's in Tombstone. I said it was time for some changes and one of those changes seems to be location, location, location. <br /><br />When I was younger and untethered to the big people responsibilities that make up life, I used to just pick up and move when I felt the urge. The urge to spread my wings, to run through the field, dragging a technicolor kite behind me. <br /><br />I'd pack up my paltry belongings and throw them in the back of my car and go. I'd quit my job and get a new one, because I could wait tables or sell beauty products anywhere. <br /><br />I'd change my hair color to some other place in the spectrum that is the rainbow that I hadn't yet explored and I'd start fresh and breathe. <br /><br />Just breathe.<br /><br />Lately? I can't breathe. I just can't breathe. I try, I make the motions of the breath and I pull the air in and it's just jagged, sharp and not right. <br /><br />I've been told this could be a move that rates high on a scale of 1 to stupid. And I think it's a risk I'm willing to take. <br /><br />My question is, do you want to go with me or do you want to hang out here?<br /><br />You can hang out here. But I've got to go. I've got to go splash some bright paint on some white walls. I've got to go ponder which wall my second hand couch would look just right on. <br /><br />I've got to go and see how loud the neighbors in another building are. Do they party? Do they stomp? Do they smoke pot that will waft down through the vents when I'm trying to sleep or read quietly to myself? <br /><br />Will there be hobo's that will dig in my trash? Should I leave little treats for the hobos, in clean bags that are tied at the top with brightly colored post-it notes letting them know the good stuff is in that bag? <br /><br />Because I do that, you know. Only you wouldn't, because I haven't told you. <br /><br />I leave goody bags for hobos. <br /><br />That is who I am. Do you know this? <br /><br />What will happen to BoomTube? Well,I think she might stay. I'm pretty sure you will still be able to tune in there. Because there? On BoomTube, I can talk and smile and laugh and I'm fine with you seeing it. Those of you who look but don't speak. I'm okay with you seeing me. <br /><br />Here? Not so much. My co-worker knows where my blog is and that doesn't bother me, so much as those of you that I can see reading and not saying anything. Because I can you know, see you. How long you spend, what you read, how long you hang around. <br /><br />It sort of feels like I'm locked in my bathroom. You know I'm crying, I know you know I'm crying... But we're both too embarrassed to say anything. But still you hang, in my living room, with a cocktail... Just waiting to see my mood change. <br /><br />Some days I smile, a lot. Some days I cry, a lot. Some days, I do neither but think of weirdly fantastic things in my head. <br /><br />So it's time. I'll still Twitter as Betsey. I'll still BoomTube you. Jason will still play records for you. <br /><br />I just have to write somewhere else. <br /><br />If you would like to email me, to find out where I am. Then please do, BetseyBooms@gmail.com. But if I don't tell you, don't be hurt. I can't imagine that I won't tell most of you. <br /><br />Or maybe I won't. <br /><br />We'll see.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-25269274434949198342009-08-11T17:45:00.000-07:002009-08-11T18:33:43.489-07:00My Daughter Is Home And Praying For The Eternal Salvation of Her Mother's SoulA not so widely known fact about me is that I was baptized as a Lutheran. I was raised by a Catholic and an atheist.<br /><br />What I am is not important to this story. Because what I am is the mother of a dead child who struggles most days to understand what His purpose is with that little nugget of fantastic pain that I was dealt. <br /><br />Tonight what I was though, was a haggard and tired woman in a Buddha t-shirt and scrub pants, standing in the middle of her kitchen, fighting with her toddler on whether or not she was loading dirty dishes into the dishwasher. He was mostly unloading. As he screamed "no mama!" my tween approached.<br /><br />"Here mom this is for you." <br /><br />"Oh, thanks Boo, this is very nice. Did you do this at church camp?" I only saw the glimpse of the cross and was mostly expecting handmade birthday wishes as doomsday is fast approaching. I looked at my daughter who just got home less than 24 hours ago from a summer with my ex-in-laws.<br /><br />"Yes, mom. They told me to give it to someone who doesn't go to church."<br /><br />As my youngest stood clinging to my leg and screaming bloody murder, I peered down at the religious propaganda I held in my hand. Beautifully decorated by my daughter, with the word Mom carefully written on the front, I looked back into her blue eyes.<br /><br />"Oh gee, thanks kid." <br /><br />And that's when she stood there and proselytized in the middle of her brother's tantrum. <br /><br />"Hey babe, let me stop you right there, I don't go to church because I'm 32 years old and I don't have to anymore, okay?"<br /><br />"Yeah, but do you believe?"<br /><br />"Seriously, are we standing on the street corner in NYC right now? Take this dollar and go on, Boo. I get where you are coming from and would love to have a religious discussion with you, but you should know, people are not cool with random questions about their religious affiliations. You know, just between you and me."<br /><br />And I could tell, she was already praying in her head. <br /><br />She already believed I was burning in Hell, but the question was, could she, as the daughter of such a heathen, be saved?<br /><br />My standard answer to the question of "do you believe" is "suck it, none of your business, bub." But today,I had to be more delicate. <br /><br />As she walked off to her room, as my kid stood still clinging and screaming, as I realized I was still holding the primary colored religious materials, as I looked down at the Buddha on my chest, I sighed and I looked up. "You are up there, aren't you? Some kind of sense of humor you've got, huh?"Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-18986210402958128652009-08-08T16:33:00.000-07:002009-08-10T15:39:52.436-07:00Your Weekly Booms Round-Up<a href="http://ustream.tv/channel/boomtube">Tune in</a> tonight to catch the new night/format of:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3n9Ou187CbJPxFFQOqeJC0QhSNaHsXHlq0iL41lEFDKVnLjGp7ZIOReySsswQBkKszyZYWPQy9RKSeuwVJqG5VkNwzrSis-JwMmrMDXiM8SY0JBEjKgrGkyrTDnxq8lnIO7vXsT14nX_6/s1600-h/BoomTube.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3n9Ou187CbJPxFFQOqeJC0QhSNaHsXHlq0iL41lEFDKVnLjGp7ZIOReySsswQBkKszyZYWPQy9RKSeuwVJqG5VkNwzrSis-JwMmrMDXiM8SY0JBEjKgrGkyrTDnxq8lnIO7vXsT14nX_6/s400/BoomTube.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359421151640026946" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I'll be on at 9:30 Central but you can tune in around 9:00 to catch Jason's set. <br /><br />Then stay tuned (actually, you'll have to change URL's) for <a href="http://ustream.tv/channe/bethemarriagel">Be The Marriage</a> directly following BoomTube.<br /><br />And then? Yeah, you can totally catch Jason again at Midnight Central on his weekly show, <a href="http://insoulwetrust.com">Droppin' The Boom</a>, not only will you hear Jason and be able to chat live with him, but you can check out guest DJ Ryan Truman. And trust me, you don't want to miss that. Even if you don't like House, you might just like Ryan. <br /><br />PS My kid is trying to eat me alive today... I had to actually check to see if he was evil or if I was just low on tolerance. Turns out I'm actually evil and he's not even tolerant of himself. Weird.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-63169830404996838462009-08-05T09:06:00.000-07:002009-08-05T09:16:08.760-07:00Cardboard is good for dancing on and writing love notes on... Not for being made out ofI know this person who is so very stiff. She's so stiff that when she thinks something is funny, I'm uncomfortable. <br /><br />Why?<br /><br />Because it's weird...<br /><br />To see cardboard laugh. And what does cardboard laugh at? Uh, well, things that most of the people in my life would say without a second thought. Because a second thought would imply, oooh, I was just funny right then. <br /><br />The thing that pisses me off about cardboard people? Is that they are judgy. Judgy and usually a tad mean. Or a lot mean. <br /><br />Hey cardboard people! You are only interesting when someone else puts something on you. When someone else's imagination and wonderment is projected onto you.<br /><br />So don't judge me, cardboard people. <br /><br />Also? You probably shouldn't blog, tell jokes or act like you are better than other people. <br /><br />You should eat dry, plain baked chicken and white rice. Both things that are delicious, when imagination and wonderment are thrown all over them. <br /><br />So yeah. Suck it cardboard, plain chicken, white rice people. <br /><br />I think I should dub this "Suck it" week. <br /><br />Eat your heart out Shark Week. <br /><br />Although you? Shark Week? You are righteous too. I bet even cardboard people love you.<br /><br />PS. <a href="http://www.cardboardlove.com/">This</a>? This is one way that cardboard is delicious and precious.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-19116836992855708122009-08-04T08:34:00.000-07:002009-08-04T09:03:29.411-07:00In Picking David Bowie Lyrics I Should Go With Chh-chh-Changes, but I'm Going With Moonlight, Serious MoonlightMy eyes are puffy and bleary which only means one thing! I've been crying like a wee baby and it was necessary to sing David Bowie at the top of my lungs on the way to work and marvel at the fact that if I had Karoke balls, I'd go out this weekend and rock the DB. I'd rock Mr. Bowie's tunes so freaking hard that you'd be all, "she is a hard rockin' (something that is surprising in how hard it rocks) thing".<br /><br />And you see how I didn't rock hard at all right there? That's to add to the air of mystery that is going to shroud my hard rockin'ness. <br /><br />So lately? I've been putting all this thought into how people are all judgy and waste their time thinking about things that make them seem cool. And by cool, I mean hip. And by hip, I mean, seriously? You take yourself that seriously? Or they do the opposite and they waste all this time thinking about how they are the opposite of hip. Or better yet... and this is my favorite. I am totally and I mean completely enthralled by people who think that the beer they drink defines them. <br /><br />I could think of 100 things, wait no... (uh, 1, 2, 3...) Okay, I could think of maybe FIVE things that define me and my beer? It ain't one of them. But here is the thing, I find that I'm totally amused and want to be best friends with people who ARE concerned about how their beer defines them. And not because I think their awesomeness will rub off on me, but because I really, really want to get into their minds to find out what makes them tick. <br /><br />All I know, is that by the end of that voyage? I'd want an icy, cold, Miller Fucking Lite. Because that is what is in my garage RIGHT NOW. Oooh, or better yet? A Michelob Ultra. Because I think THAT beer says, "I'm chubby, drunk and like the taste of fermented water." Because all of that? Is who I am. Well the drunk part is just a fraction of the time, but now we're getting into semantics.<br /><br />I know, you? Yeah, you are fucking wowed right now. And I spent like a whole, I dunno, 5 seconds on my beer decision. I've mastered this. <br /><br />Also? Yes, way back deep somewhere in my most reptilian mind, I probably feel that I'm just slightly more rad because I don't care that much. <br /><br />But what makes me the hippest? Is that if I was in a bar that played, oh say, C'mon Eileen, I'd totally be all, "This place sucks!" and walk out after throwing my can of beer on the floor. But then I'd have to bend over and pick up my wood grain coozie. <br /><br />***<br /><br />PS BoomTube has moved to Saturday night and it's only a half hour now. Because you can't stretch this kind of fantastic out for a full hour. You just can't. So don't ask. <br /><br />PPS This change already means that Jason and I are more than likely already pitted up against each other in the same time spot. He has an hour long set that might be aired at the same time. We're pulling out the cardboard dance floor tonight and having this crazy mad dance off to prove to just ourselves who is more awesome so that you, the people, don't have to. <br /><br />PPSS If McCain and Obama had done that, we'd no longer be a democracy, but we'd be the coolest fucking nation in the Universe! You can bank on that!Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-13837371637647841662009-08-03T13:23:00.000-07:002009-08-03T13:55:09.813-07:00Ouch, Stop! That's My Kidney!I know this really big crazy dude. His name is, get this... Life. Horrible name, right? His mother obviously HATES him. She took one look at his big headed, ugly mug and was all, "well isn't that just life?"<br /><br />Life kinds of stomps around and has tattoos. He wears big heavy combat boots and says things like "I'm loco, esse." Which is weird, I think he listened to too much Cypress Hill and House of Pain in the 90's. <br /><br />Life is kind of cool, because you know, you can hang with Life at parties and drink a 40. Life picks on you and gives you noogies that jack your hair all up, but the second someone else picks on you, Life does one of two things:<br /><br />A) He either comes back and punches that bitch in the lady box<br /><br />or<br /><br />B) He turns around and punches you in your lady box and tells you to suck it up and quit being such a fucking titty baby<br /><br />Life? Well, he's kind of a dick. And if you don't have a lady box then watch your nuts. He's a crazy swinger. <br /><br />Currently he and his friend, Coincidence, are taking turns kicking me in just one of my kidneys. The other they are saving for when they are drunk and angry. They think of me as kind of a little biological punching back. <br /><br />Life and Coincidence totally, and I mean completely, underestimate me. Because guess what I just did?<br /><br />I waited until they passed out and then? I tied them up in their bedsheets and beat the crap out of them with a baseball bat and then I yelled, "suck it!" I also airpunched, but that is neither here nor there.<br /><br />Life and Coincidence may never respect me, but that is fine. Because I'm gonna kick their bitch asses. <br /><br />Me and this big set of balls I just grew are gonna go and swing them around and pretend like we own the joint now. <br /><br />Mostly because somebody just lit a fire under them. My balls that is. <br /><br />This was weird.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-63200121808337195982009-08-01T18:26:00.000-07:002009-08-01T18:46:38.488-07:00Revamping This Hobo TrampIt's time. <br /><br />Time for change. <br /><br />Time for new starts. New bidness. <br /><br />Time to let somethings go and introduce something newer, maybe even better. <br /><br />It's been too long since I've had something to say that resembles what I have been in the past. For far too long, this blog has been like that weird fruit that floats around in jello. Or worse? The carrots. Carrots in jello is something that I'm pretty sure was based on a 1950's era drunken dare. You know, all, yeah, casseroles are awesome. So awesome in fact that a gelatin based casserole would be out of sight. <br /><br />I'm all about casseroles, but gelatin based anything should be pretty much sent to outer space to die a fast, oxygenless death. <br /><br />Do I make sense?<br /><br />No, clearly not. <br /><br />And that's the point. <br /><br />What I'm saying in this mysterious and convoluted manner I've adopted lately is that I'm changing, Betsey Booms is changing and BoomTube is changing. <br /><br />My voice in it's current form is meaningless and being heard far less than I'd like to consider the importance of myself to be worth. Wait... <br /><br />Hell, I don't even know what that just meant or if it was even a complete thought. <br /><br />I'm having less complete thoughts these days. <br /><br />Last year about this time, I had decided that it was time that I stopped caring what other's thought about me, that I would simply be my authentic self and fuck! That just has to be good enough. <br /><br />And you know what? It is good enough but I'm even better. I'm worth treating myself even better and shedding even more layers of the funk that gets slimed all over us by the world the very second the umbilical cord is cut. <br /><br />I'm hoping that you'll stay tuned and enjoy it all. <br /><br />But if you don't? I enjoyed your readership while it lasted.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-31610258241838099272009-07-31T10:29:00.000-07:002009-07-31T11:43:15.401-07:00Annabelle, John and The Stranger Walking Around My HouseOur vacation started off the way any vacation should. <br /><br />Horribly. <br /><br />With plans to meet at the Farmer's Market after Annabelle and John met with Annabelle's cousin, Jason and I left home. <br /><br />Home. <br /><br />Where my cell phone was. <br /><br />The phone where Annabelle's number was stored and the phone that Annabelle had the number for. <br /><br />Long story short, the vacation started off late and with an interesting cab ride that lasted only 5 blocks. <br /><br />The first evening, we all sat on the deck, enjoying beers and the weather that seemingly blew in from some place way more awesome than Kansas City. Granted, KC is the cat's mother fucking pajamas, but still. <br /><br />Then Jason's phone rang. He ignored it. <br /><br />The house phone rang. We ignored that too, you know, probably just people wanting money for that new liver I've put a down payment on. <br /><br />Then Jason's phone rang again. He looked and saw it was our neighbor. So Jason grabbed John and headed across the street. <br /><br />When he got there our neighbor was all wide eyed and, "dude, there is some weirdo walking around your house."<br /><br />John held out his hand and said, "Hi, I'm John."<br /><br />We left the next day, but we didn't tell our neighbor. <br /><br />We thought he might drink all of our beer and dance around in Jason's underwear without our yard patroling weirdo. <br /><br />Okay, I'm lying. Jeez. <br /><br />He wouldn't dance around in Jason's underwear. <br /><br />He'd run down the street in mine.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-6000502055627956562009-07-31T05:31:00.000-07:002009-07-31T05:43:18.255-07:00I'm Back and Mostly Funk FreeWe got back home last night. I am strangely relaxed and revived and I have to say, I really kind of like it. It's a strange feeling but not one that I'm opposed to feeling more often. <br /><br />The good news is that in recent months I've put on just enough weight that I don't actually feel the post vacation bloat. So let's hear it for being chubby. You know I just brought down the house with my chubby chub dancing styles. The even better news is that I don't go back to work until Monday and I only go in for four days before I rock another three day weekend. <br /><br />So I'll probably be back later today to tell you how my best friend's husband's head looks like he was involved in the Chernobyl accident. It's mostly attractive in a flaky kind of way. <br /><br />BoomTube will be on tonight. 9pm Central, 10 Eastern, 7 Pacific and 8 Mountain. <br /><br />So you know, later skaters.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-36261963326121500092009-07-24T06:47:00.000-07:002009-07-24T06:52:20.975-07:00Watch BoomTube or Tranny Bong Monkeys Will Take Over Blogher And Most Of ChicagoJust because I'm on vacation doesn't mean I'm not giving up the goods. <br /><br />Join Jason and me tonight for <a href="http://www.ustream.tv/channel/boomtube">BoomTube Live</a>. Sign-up for a USTREAM account so you can chat with us live on the air.<br /><br />9PM Central, 10 Eastern, 7 Pacific, 8 Mountain<br /><br /><br /><br />Things you could learn about:<br /><br />Tranny Bong Monkeys<br />What my husband thinks of Jason Stackhouse<br />and more!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3n9Ou187CbJPxFFQOqeJC0QhSNaHsXHlq0iL41lEFDKVnLjGp7ZIOReySsswQBkKszyZYWPQy9RKSeuwVJqG5VkNwzrSis-JwMmrMDXiM8SY0JBEjKgrGkyrTDnxq8lnIO7vXsT14nX_6/s1600-h/BoomTube.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3n9Ou187CbJPxFFQOqeJC0QhSNaHsXHlq0iL41lEFDKVnLjGp7ZIOReySsswQBkKszyZYWPQy9RKSeuwVJqG5VkNwzrSis-JwMmrMDXiM8SY0JBEjKgrGkyrTDnxq8lnIO7vXsT14nX_6/s400/BoomTube.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359421151640026946" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And don't forget to tune into Skankelodeon directly afterwards. I've linked it over on the side. <br /><br />Of course, Droppin' The Boom will be on Saturday night as well. Info on the side again!Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-52284951620968161962009-07-21T06:53:00.000-07:002009-07-21T07:00:40.617-07:00I'm Scratching This Itch and I Can't StopI woke up in the middle of the night, already raking my nails over the lump forming on the bump at the top of my foot that only Fred Flintstone and I could call an ankle bone. I kept scratching the little bite because I knew the second I stopped it would be agony. I scratched and I scratched, it was nearly euphoric. If I stopped, if I stop scratching, if I stop running my nails over this little bite, agony. <br /><br />Eventually I had to stop. <br /><br />And, then I laid there, awake. Itching. Thinking. Knowing that there was some sort of metaphor in here somewhere but I was too tired to grasp it. <br /><br />I think I'll just keep scratching.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-84590941197982672622009-07-20T08:45:00.001-07:002009-07-20T10:18:15.690-07:00This Place Has Just Become...Horseshit. One word. Horseshit. <br /><br />Seriously? Why are you here? Have I given you anything worth a damn? No I haven't. I haven't given anyone anything that is worth a damn. I used BoomTube as an excuse and did you see that freaking train wreck? <br /><br />In my defense, I wasn't ready. Jason and I had just argued and then he's all, "ready, set, go! Be funny!" and I was all, "Wait, what? No." But then it was too late and the light was in my face and I had to try to be funny. <br /><br />And you know what? When I'm in a bad mood I am not funny. Not one thing is funny about me except maybe the stupid look on my face. No funny here, kids. No anything here. I even have two designs that I HAVE to get out this week because next week? No one is getting a single, solitary, gawddamn thing from me. It's not like their getting much as it is. <br /><br />A really big part of me wants to just blow everything off until after vacation. I've already check out. I'm gone. Splitsville. I'm so fucking gone I just said splitsville. What the fuck?<br /><br />No, really, what the fuck? Can you tell me? Because I've got nothing here. And, for some reason splitsville reminds me, this weekend Jason watched a biography on Marlon Brando and when he was done he looked at me and said, "Marlon Brando was really a dick." And, I was all, "Not a newsflash, the man was a dick and screwed like... I dunno, something that screws a lot. How many kids did he have?" and then Jason was all, "Like ten or maybe even more, no one really knows." And that made it seem really mysterious to me. <br /><br />I have no point of telling you this except that I would be really, really pissed and disappointed if after someone got done watching a biography on me, if they weren't asleep, that they might then look at their spouse and be all, "Dude, she was a total dick!" <br /><br />But then this takes me one more place. Something Jason and I didn't get to on BoomTube was the Super Bitch. There is a car that is always parked on the street down about a block or two from our house. And across the back window, in giant and I mean really big fucking letters, red ones even, it reads "Super Bitch". <br /><br />Now, seriously? That's what you're going with. Super bitch? You're sticking with that? That's your label, your message? You could put anything in the world in that space and the stroke of genius that you had was super bitch. I have been thinking about this shit for like two weeks now, right? So while I was in the middle of thinking about it and trying not to nod off on my drive to work, I saw a bumper sticker that read, "From zero to bitch in 1.5 seconds". What are you saying there? You are both a zero and a bitch because that is some seriously fucked up advertising and you might want to consider firing your PR agent. Or seeing someone about your self-esteem issue. <br /><br />All I'm saying is maybe I should just get it out of the way and put "disappointing dick" on the back of my car. <br /><br />I would just feel bad when Jason had to drive it. <br /><br />Which now? I'm reminded of the time my brother spray painted "FAT ASS" on the side of his car and I had to drive it. And I was all, "Yeah, funny and ironic when your tall, skinny ass gets out of the car. When I get out of that car it's just mean."Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-90646119958735499552009-07-17T04:09:00.000-07:002009-07-17T14:11:18.270-07:00Even When I Can't Write, I Can Still Babble Like A Monkey. Babblin' MonkeyUPDATED: 9PM Central, 10 Eastern, 7 Pacific, 8 Mountain<br /><br /><br />So it's that time again.<br /><br />Join Jason and me tonight for <a href="http://www.ustream.tv/channel/boomtube">BoomTube Live</a>. Sign-up for a USTREAM account so you can chat with us live on the air.<br /><br />Things you could learn about:<br /><br />USTREAM Gang Wars, it's on!<br />My irrational fears<br />Dry sponges<br />and more!<br /><br />Also? I might delve into the great Teen Wolf topic.<br /><br />At the very least, I promise I'll look like a total tool.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3n9Ou187CbJPxFFQOqeJC0QhSNaHsXHlq0iL41lEFDKVnLjGp7ZIOReySsswQBkKszyZYWPQy9RKSeuwVJqG5VkNwzrSis-JwMmrMDXiM8SY0JBEjKgrGkyrTDnxq8lnIO7vXsT14nX_6/s1600-h/BoomTube.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3n9Ou187CbJPxFFQOqeJC0QhSNaHsXHlq0iL41lEFDKVnLjGp7ZIOReySsswQBkKszyZYWPQy9RKSeuwVJqG5VkNwzrSis-JwMmrMDXiM8SY0JBEjKgrGkyrTDnxq8lnIO7vXsT14nX_6/s400/BoomTube.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359421151640026946" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And don't forget to tune into Skankelodeon directly afterwards. I've linked it over on the side. <br /><br />Of course, Droppin' The Boom will be on Saturday night as well. Info on the side again!Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-62156320226315274742009-07-16T06:49:00.000-07:002009-07-16T07:07:58.289-07:00Baby Stepping Through The MuckI sort of feel like I don't own this space anymore and it pisses me off. It used to be that I would rush to the computer every day to sit down and write. My blog was my very favorite thing and I couldn't wait to get to it every day.<br /><br />Now? It's a struggle. Worse? I'm writing about blogging and that is like one of the Seven Deadly Sins of blogging. You don't write about blogging. You blog about everything else going on in your life. And maybe that's what I should do, but you know what? I just don't want to. It feels forced. I feel like a stranger in my own world right now.<br /><br />Furthermore, I should recognize what this is and I haven't even bothered to do so yet. I have Summer depression. I always have, since I was a kid. I feel listless and useless. The gears in my head that normally crank out the words are just chugging along, working harder to perform basic daily functions.<br /><br />Getting up out of bed? Well that takes more effort than it did just two months ago. Every year I go through this and every single year it sneaks up on me. I work harder to smile, I work harder to not grump about and tell everyone in my eyeline to eat shit and die. I wouldn't mean it if I said it, but still the temptation is there and it would be a delicious moment when I did say it. Well, until the guilt set in. I'm not big on hurting feelings. <br /><br />The good news is that I'm going on vacation soon and hopefully it'll knock this shit right out of me. This never lasts too long, it's more of a nuisance than anything. I just have to work a little bit harder to push my spirit out and project something other than blech. I fake it 'til I make it. <br /><br />Little reminders:<br /><br />Am I smiling?<br />Am I responding in a pleasant manner?<br />Wait, did I just tell that person to suck it?<br /><br />Fuck.<br /><br />I made it through what would have been my son's fourth birthday. Now I just have to push through until the anniversary of his death. It falls 3 days after my birthday every single year.<br /><br />It's time to buck up. <br /><br />It's not going to change.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-38443160178655771072009-07-15T07:55:00.000-07:002009-07-15T08:18:37.965-07:00I've Gotta Do It My Way, Or No Way At AllYeah, I HAVE been on a weird Foreigner kick. So just turn me loose, okay? <br /><br />This week I'm in the weirdest fog ever. It's like my brain is just like, "Seriously? This shit is bogus and I'm so fucking out of here!" And I still have 9 days until vacation. Brain. Brain! Do you hear me, I need you to check back in and get the hell back to work. <br /><br />The worst is when I'm in the car. Driving back and forth to work I've had to literally slap myself in the face to stay awake. Which, if that is what I have to do, then so be it, but the people at stop lights next to me are looking at me a little strangely. In any case, it's clear, I either have Mono or Narcolepsy. <br /><br />I know this because a symptom of both of those is clearly the tingly, itching feeling I have on the back, right side of my head that feels like my brain might just burst out of it at any moment like the Alien. It feels fuzzy and twitchy and like it's directly connected right to my left eyeball. <br /><br />Also? Someone on Twitter said that perhaps I should think about writing a dictionary because I said, "I'm getting ready to interview a guy named Stiles, how Teen Wolf awesome is that radness?" She said, "Who says that?"<br /><br />Erm, me, I say that and that is totally clear and something you'd hear on any given day in any given place, right? <br /><br />Sure it is. <br /><br />And just to hammer the point home, I guess. I had an email exchange with <a href="http://www.theslackdaily.com/2009/07/unicorn-farts-skittles-cheeseburgers.html">The Slackmistress</a> the other day that ended really, really well. <br /><br />You know, if you're discussing unicorn farts.<br /><br />I kind of didn't have the heart to tell her that it was a totally normal conversation for me. Mostly because I didn't want to scare her.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-30393558533371136392009-07-10T08:57:00.000-07:002009-07-10T09:16:42.851-07:00Friday Night Live Or Like You Have Anything Better To Do?Tonight is the maiden voyage of <a href="http://www.ustream.tv/channel/boomtube?preview=1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">BoomTube</span> Live</a>. The good news is that you can chat and interact with us while we broadcast. The bad news? Well, you can chat and interact with us and there is no editing and chances are cocktails will be involved. <br /><br />You know, if you can call beer in a can a "cocktail". And you totally can. So if I'm all "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Wooooooooh</span> look at me!" you know why. Oh and it's my show, so suck it.<br /><br />Then stay tuned for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Skankelodeon</span> with those lovable <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">nutjobs</span> the <a href="http://ramblingsofadirtypiratehooker.blogspot.com/">Dirty Pirate Hooker</a> and <a href="http://kywork.blogspot.com/">Ghost of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Keywork</span></a>. Those crazy kids. I'd totally ruffle their hair and give them <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Popsicles</span> if I could!<br /><br />I've put buttons on the sidebar over there so I can't make it any easier, unless I come into your house and open your laptop and do this for you, people. And if I do that, you have to feed me. I eat a lot and I like everything fried. <br /><br />We're on at 9pm Central. That's 10 Eastern and 7 Pacific for those of you that are lazy with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">mathin</span>' skills. I have to do everything around here. Gah!<br /><br />One more thing. Saturday night is totally party night and no party is complete without tunes. (Who the hell says tunes anymore?) Well drugs and alcohol help too. But one of those is illegal and chances are the other one is too if you are actually still up at Midnight. Never one to judge, let's just move on. You can catch my husband Jason Booms, who is a very talented House DJ on his radio show, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Droppin</span>' The Boom. There is a button for that too. <br /><br />So one of these days, I'll show up around this joint and not pimp a single thing. Oh I'll be ho <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">slappin</span>', but I won't be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">pimpin</span>'. <br /><br />If you're a ho, I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I'm so crude, but let's be real, you're a ho. Someday? I'll see you in the dumpster behind my office. If your legs don't twitch or anything I'll call someone. But I'm not touching you! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Grody</span>.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-7170573934000181372009-07-08T06:43:00.000-07:002009-07-08T07:20:01.229-07:00Another One Bites The Dust Is A Badass Jam And Hopefully Not a Running Theme Around HereEnnui. I have it. Of the blog variety that is. <br /><br />I don't think I'm alone, I've noticed it going around the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">blogosphere</span> a bit. We're writing less, we're looking less. It's the dog days of Summer rearing their ugly heads. I'm actually okay with it, but I'm not going to pretend that one day, soon, you're going to show up here and find brilliance in writing. <br /><br />Oh you might, in a month or two, but probably not right now. No, right now the best you can hope for is that I'll show up, punch the clock, drink a Diet Coke, fiddle with a paperclip, send a text message, take my lunch, screw around for another hour, think about checking the mail and then call it a day. <br /><br />And, that, my friends? Is total bullshit. You should really expect more from me. You should pull me aside and get all up in my face, wave your finger around near my nose and say, "Look, asshole, get your ass in gear. Whip yourself into shape and give us something! Anything! Christ, it's freaking sad around here. You are fucking lazy! I've seen more action from a half salted slug."<br /><br />You'd be right to do it. But, the problem is that I'd probably just shrug and say, "You're right." and then wander off like a dejected 14-year old boy that was just turned down for date to the dance. <br /><br />I'm still here. I'm still around. I'm just asking for some lenience for the rest of this month. Hang with me, be my friend, enable my sad ass. I'll write when I can, when it comes from within, but I just can't handle all the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">GAWDDAMN</span> pressure already. Jeez, get up off me, you freak!<br /><br />Good news.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">BoomTube</span> is still in full force and will now be broadcast live every weekend. <br /><br />Wait. Did you catch that right? Freaking A right you just did! You can now spend your Friday nights, with me. Look, the world just lost Michael Jackson, right? It's my turn to give back and spread this <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">awesomosity</span> out in full force. It's Human Nature. And I promise, it will be Off The Wall.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Gah</span>, will I just fucking stop already? <br /><br />Friday nights, 9 PM Central, 8 PM Mountain, 7 PM Pacific, 10 PM Eastern - you got that? You can find <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">BoomTube</span> right <a href="http://www.ustream.tv/channel/boomtube">here</a>. And just to make that easy for you, I'll put a button on my sidebar that you can just click on to tune in. You'll be able to chat with us (and amongst yourselves) live during the broadcast and if you can't make it, well you can watch anytime your little heart desires.<br /><br />That? Is not <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">grody</span> by any means people.<br /><br />Some of you may notice that is the time slot directly before the greatness that is known as <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Skankelodeon</span>. That's right. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">BoomTube</span> is a warm up act. Which means two hours of freaking fantastic every Friday, just for you. Which I cannot find the URL for right at the moment, but I promise I'll have a button for that too.<br /><br />You might get something a little grody from that show. <br /><br />Whew, this is getting exhausting. But don't go yet because I've got one more for you. <br /><br />As some of you may know, my husband is a retired House DJ with 14 years of experience under his belt. He took a hiatus from spinning and playing around the country to do a little thing called starting a family. But now that he's used to us and maybe even a little sick us, he's ready to get back at it. He's heavily influenced by 80's Synth Pop and the Chicago and San Francisco House scenes. I know because I edited the bio. <br /><br />So we've taken care of your Saturday nights too and you can find him and his radio show, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Droppin</span>' The Boom <a href="http://www.insoulwetrust.com/shows/index.html">here</a>. (Scroll to the bottom for the full scoop.) Midnight Central. You do the math on the other time zones. I gave you the formula earlier. And you know I'll be giving y'all a button for that as well.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Woah</span>, I just laid a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">hurtin</span>' on your world, didn't I?Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-16806244594341043362009-07-07T06:46:00.001-07:002009-07-07T06:49:33.886-07:00Someday you're going to realize just what a genius I am, but not todayBecause for today all I'm going to give you is this. BoomTube is changing.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgABx8tn04AJBTqhXfq89nXF3ED36QFUXhjSK3APg0vL2exAeLXabcs3mHyxOV7xvCzYez8nRTL0PuU9IoePjY8F3RIfbdqM4YxZSVUgP-CFw_xUFULBO_pZKRGzDKpzxLPzmTnOubY1Pn/s1600-h/BoomTube.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgABx8tn04AJBTqhXfq89nXF3ED36QFUXhjSK3APg0vL2exAeLXabcs3mHyxOV7xvCzYez8nRTL0PuU9IoePjY8F3RIfbdqM4YxZSVUgP-CFw_xUFULBO_pZKRGzDKpzxLPzmTnOubY1Pn/s400/BoomTube.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355714450886061506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And, Jason has this going on:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbRQCQryE5RQAFYGH6PV6PUInmf49Ouwnyjij3Pi7PtFO2PmuHo3Mv-qSaeFCKYWFcfw6fQoWfdFa9dBuMWUukNpKB7N66scgDU4X7mj7RMU0nt2m0YmxdPTAi3dFnQZxmYJifNIZgibj/s1600-h/DroppinTheBoom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbRQCQryE5RQAFYGH6PV6PUInmf49Ouwnyjij3Pi7PtFO2PmuHo3Mv-qSaeFCKYWFcfw6fQoWfdFa9dBuMWUukNpKB7N66scgDU4X7mj7RMU0nt2m0YmxdPTAi3dFnQZxmYJifNIZgibj/s400/DroppinTheBoom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355714453156929858" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />More info to come.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-60401211334976459242009-07-06T11:43:00.000-07:002009-07-06T12:06:36.658-07:00I'm putting the words Juke Box Hero in the title because the song is bitchin' and I just want toI'm edgy today and every time I start to write it turns into a laundry list of exhaustion. Even right now, I'm willing my fingers to not go into the tirade that includes how just stepping into my office six days a week is eating my soul alive. <br /><br />But look, I did it again. <br /><br />Tsk, tsk. <br /><br />I'm unpleasant. I'm plastering this mucked up smile on my face today whenever anyone just looks in my general direction. Behind it, I'm seething and ugly. Frustrated and just edgy. It's nothing more than that hormonal freight train that smacks me square in the gut every month. By tomorrow, I'll be better but in the meantime...<br /><br />- My two year old named his teddy bear Paul. We don't know a Paul. He doesn't know a Paul, yet Paul it is. Because it was either that or Two. He knows when strangers say things that are upended in his general direction, he typically answers "Two!" So now we have this thing known as Paul Bear that must be looked after and I find it so endearing I've darn near chewed his face off and squeezed him silly. <br /><br />- My likeness is on a bottle of hot sauce. I use likeness loosely because this cartoon <a href="http://www.bigdawgsalsa.com/hot_sauce_hottie_july09.htm">chick</a> is incredibly hot. A portion of the proceeds go to various Fire Fighter charities. I'm sure all of you want my face looking at you over your eggs in the morning. I'll be pimping this out more when my mood lifts. <br /><br />- I have 17 days until my vacation starts. I spent the first few minutes of my morning, sitting at my desk, counting little boxes on a bigger box that said 'July' at the top. And my rush to get to that last little row of boxes is kind of pissing me off as well. <br /><br />I'm sparing you because I like you. <br /><br />A good rule of thumb today is: Keep your nuts, shins and throat away from me. Hell, your thumbs too. <br /><br />PS - Rush should probably get off of my radio and put Foreigner back on. You know, if they know what is good for them. Stupid Rush. <br /><br />Today's Tom Sawyer is getting changed to another station.<br /><br />PPS - I'm really not as edgy as my blog would lead you to believe. But I did take the week off of posting because this is the only kind of crap that I could come up with and I don't want any of you to throat punch me so, you know, I try to keep it to myself.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-22155831899318641552009-06-24T18:47:00.000-07:002009-06-25T13:22:36.212-07:00BoomTube, Episode Five, Just go to your room and don't come out until you can apologize, missy/misterLet me apologize upfront for the use of the word "awesomosity", repeatedly. As well as the "fingerbanging" wink and sound. I. Am. So. Stupid. <br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/u7XxzjaLqn8&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/u7XxzjaLqn8&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><p>Look, I said right up front that I'm undermedicated. You totally deserved that and you know it. Okay, I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry. Jeez.<br /><br />Things I have to say, the "sponsors" demand it:</p><br /><br /><p><a href="http://twitter.com/rainydaze_79">RainyDaze79</a> Twittered: Shout out to Austin and are they real?</p><br /><br /><p>So uh shout out, Texas people and the answer is real expensive. I feel uncomfortable just typing 'shout out', saying it would probably do psychological damage. I'm fragile you know. Like a animal testing lab monkey. You never know when I'm going to blow and bite your face off with my freakish teeth, ala Outbreak. </p><br /><br /><p>I've not actually watched that movie, so if that was inappropriate, I'm again, apologetic. I read a book titled 'Outbreak', I enjoyed it. I'm not sure if the movie is based on the book, but the rule is, if the book was good, the movie ain't. So why chance that shit? I'm not a gambler with things like big chunks of time.</p><br /><br /><p>Also? I just looked up the plural of vagina, because I needed to know if there was a bag of them sitting next to me on the couch if I would say, "Oh, look at that bag of vaginae" or perhaps, "Oh, look, there is a bag of vaginen." Oh there is that gambling with chunks of time thing. </p><br /><br /><p>So, <a href="http://twitter.com/missmerry">Miss Merry</a> said: It's valium time. </p><br /><br /><p>Okay yeah. Looks like it. Care to send me any? The answer to that is... no. No, you won't, because if you have it, you keep that shit to yourself. It's like the land of milk and honey. I know that doesn't make sense, but it makes sense to me. And NOOO OOOONNNNE else around here pays attention. </p><br /><br /><p>Obviously. Ahem. </p><br /><br /><p>You can watch <a href="http://betseybooms.blogspot.com/2009/06/dude-gets-hasseled-by-hoff.html">The Dude get "Hasseled" by the Hoff</a>. And, of course, you can look at <a href="http://sarcasticmom.com/">boobs </a>until your heart explodes. (I'm still number 24.)</p><br /><br /><p>Oh, come back, I still love you...</p><br /><br /><p>But less than I did before. My heart grows stingy. </p><br /><br /><p>Wait, does stingy grow? Eh. </p><br /><br /><p></p>Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492348669268559912.post-63981652869104922722009-06-24T06:50:00.000-07:002009-06-24T06:59:14.976-07:00This is the one and only time I'm going to tell you to look at my rack. Do it and then vote for number 24.I was threatened under assault with dog poop mail to enter this little competition that is all about comparing breastial assets.<br /><br />I know.<br /><br />So I did it regardless of what my self esteem says.<br /><br />If you love me, I mean really, really love me, you might even go vote for me. I'm number 24. Plus? If you click this <a href="http://sarcasticmom.com/bewb-fest-09/">link</a>? You get to look at my boobs.<br /><br />Vote every day people. My girls are all depressed and sad. If this was the boob prom, they'd be standing in the corner in their head gear. Trying to get all straight and pretty while working hard at avoiding eye contact.<br /><br />I know. Your Wednesday just got chock full of awesomosity.<br /><br />So thank <a href="http://rassles.blogspot.com/">Rassles</a> for the word "awesomeosity" which I'm still not entirely sure how to spell correctly, and then thank my surgeon for my performance enhanced chestal region.<br /><br />PS... Mr. Booms chided me for not submitting a sexier picture of the Sisters Booms.Mrs. Boomshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07327877419678061633noreply@blogger.com21