My Daughter Is Home And Praying For The Eternal Salvation of Her Mother's Soul

A not so widely known fact about me is that I was baptized as a Lutheran. I was raised by a Catholic and an atheist.

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.

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.

"Here mom this is for you."

"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.

"Yes, mom. They told me to give it to someone who doesn't go to church."

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.

"Oh gee, thanks kid."

And that's when she stood there and proselytized in the middle of her brother's tantrum.

"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?"

"Yeah, but do you believe?"

"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."

And I could tell, she was already praying in her head.

She already believed I was burning in Hell, but the question was, could she, as the daughter of such a heathen, be saved?

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.

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?"

In Picking David Bowie Lyrics I Should Go With Chh-chh-Changes, but I'm Going With Moonlight, Serious Moonlight

My 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".

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

***

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.

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.

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!

Revamping This Hobo Tramp

It's time.

Time for change.

Time for new starts. New bidness.

Time to let somethings go and introduce something newer, maybe even better.

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.

I'm all about casseroles, but gelatin based anything should be pretty much sent to outer space to die a fast, oxygenless death.

Do I make sense?

No, clearly not.

And that's the point.

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.

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...

Hell, I don't even know what that just meant or if it was even a complete thought.

I'm having less complete thoughts these days.

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.

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.

I'm hoping that you'll stay tuned and enjoy it all.

But if you don't? I enjoyed your readership while it lasted.

This Place Has Just Become...

Horseshit. One word. Horseshit.

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?

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.

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.

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?

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.

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!"

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".

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.

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.

I would just feel bad when Jason had to drive it.

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."

Friday Night Live Or Like You Have Anything Better To Do?

Tonight is the maiden voyage of BoomTube Live. 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.

You know, if you can call beer in a can a "cocktail". And you totally can. So if I'm all "Wooooooooh look at me!" you know why. Oh and it's my show, so suck it.

Then stay tuned for Skankelodeon with those lovable nutjobs the Dirty Pirate Hooker and Ghost of Keywork. Those crazy kids. I'd totally ruffle their hair and give them Popsicles if I could!

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.

We're on at 9pm Central. That's 10 Eastern and 7 Pacific for those of you that are lazy with the mathin' skills. I have to do everything around here. Gah!

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, Droppin' The Boom. There is a button for that too.

So one of these days, I'll show up around this joint and not pimp a single thing. Oh I'll be ho slappin', but I won't be pimpin'.

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! Grody.

Another One Bites The Dust Is A Badass Jam And Hopefully Not a Running Theme Around Here

Ennui. I have it. Of the blog variety that is.

I don't think I'm alone, I've noticed it going around the blogosphere 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.

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.

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."

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.

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 GAWDDAMN pressure already. Jeez, get up off me, you freak!

Good news.

BoomTube is still in full force and will now be broadcast live every weekend.

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 awesomosity out in full force. It's Human Nature. And I promise, it will be Off The Wall.

Gah, will I just fucking stop already?

Friday nights, 9 PM Central, 8 PM Mountain, 7 PM Pacific, 10 PM Eastern - you got that? You can find BoomTube right here. 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.

That? Is not grody by any means people.

Some of you may notice that is the time slot directly before the greatness that is known as Skankelodeon. That's right. BoomTube 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.

You might get something a little grody from that show.

Whew, this is getting exhausting. But don't go yet because I've got one more for you.

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.

So we've taken care of your Saturday nights too and you can find him and his radio show, Droppin' The Boom here. (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.

Woah, I just laid a hurtin' on your world, didn't I?

I'm putting the words Juke Box Hero in the title because the song is bitchin' and I just want to

I'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.

But look, I did it again.

Tsk, tsk.

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...

- 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.

- My likeness is on a bottle of hot sauce. I use likeness loosely because this cartoon chick 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.

- 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.

I'm sparing you because I like you.

A good rule of thumb today is: Keep your nuts, shins and throat away from me. Hell, your thumbs too.

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.

Today's Tom Sawyer is getting changed to another station.

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.