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.

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?

UPDATED: Without Butter And Chocolate, What Is The Point Of Living? And Why Does My Office Smell Like That Jerkface, Bacon?

I pretty much understand now that my entire existence is made up of those two ingredients.

Butter
Chocolate

There is a whopping side of kick ass and awesome thrown in there too, but kick ass and awesome's two main ingredients are also fricking butter and chocolate. Oh and maybe beer and bacon. Because you know there is nothing NOT awesome about beer and bacon. That is pretty much a breakfast you could live on. Not for very long or with any sort of quality of health, don't be picky. And right at this very moment, my office smells like bacon and I'm licking the walls. Not the windows (you know who you are), just the bacon scented walls.

Sigh.

If I had a topic, I should try to get back on it but this is what I'm telling you. There is no topic. Just food swirling around, oh so deliciously in my brain. That? And someone thinks I'm hot, which blows my mind. So much so, she made me Miss March. True story. Which you know, in turn makes me think she's awesome if not just a little under medicated. I'm really glad that I did her that favor and sent her a really good picture of me. I'm just a constant giver.

Also? There is another blog that you should really check out. So let's just keep this pimp train rolling. Wouldn't you picture the pimp train to be a lot like the soul train. Dancing and singing it's name in a high pitched voice, half dressed people dancing on either side of it while it got it's groove on? But would it be in the boy's dance line or girl's? Hard to tell. Oh so click on this:

Yo Mama's Blog

Miss Yvonne at Yo Mama's is funny. Like really freaking funny, she's rented part of her house out to some freaks, has a teenager and still finds time to watch Star Trek based porn. She has some weird obsession with Pee Wee's Playhouse, which oddly, I find more endearing than make me run-away freakish.

Let the stalking commence. Just do me a favor and stalk her gently. Or slowly. Stalk her gently and stalk her slowly.

I know, I KNOW. Just shut the hell up already. I need a cheeseburger.

And if you do me a favor and keister stash a cheeseburger and a shiv for me, I just ask that you wrap them up really, really well. I'm hungry. I'm not THAT hungry.

Well....

Okay - No, no I'm not!



PS - Jason just spent like 20 minutes sending me emails that made sure I knew he does not, in anyway, think that I am a funny person.

I'm pretty sure he's right.

Satan Speaks, I Listen

Last night, Crazyman's daycare provider sent home the monthly newsletter. I have now dubbed this newsletter "Satan Speaks."

This month's issue tells us all about how this week is Dr. Seuss week and that he will need to wear his crazy socks on Wednesday and bring his favorite stuffed animal on Friday.

The she tells us about the freaking two weeks she will be taking off this summer with one of them being paid. Paid by us. Fantastic. No really, that was one of my favorite parts. I get it, everyone needs a vacation, but two weeks back to back. Oh the convenience of that is unspeakable! (Bartender - another round please, this is a red letter day!)

But that wasn't my ultimate favorite part. No, the part that I will be highlighting, reading, re-reading, making a collage out of, printing on t-shirts, taking out billboards and carefully cutting out, gluing to a little doily heart with glitter, oh so much glitter and putting under my pillow at night so I can have sweet dreams about those fun little words - is the part where, even though she admits it won't be popular, the kids are no longer allowed to bring personal objects and toys.

I get it. I really do. But do you know who does not get it? Who is not at all reasonable about it? Who would actually prefer to tear off my face, rather than hear the very rational words I'm uttering, words that sound very much like, "you cannot take the ball with you today"?

The first attempt at explaining the new policy this morning resulted in him not brushing his teeth. I saw the logic there. Perhaps if he just handed me the toothbrush back then he could take the ball.

Makes total sense. (Yes, I'll have a Bud Light, please.)

Until he threw himself on the floor and ended up in his bed until I was done getting ready. Somewhere in that mix he managed to half undress himself as well.

Then he came down the hall, ready to go, with a baseball glove and not one ball, but two. Sensing the challenge I manned up and actually got him to put the glove and the ball in the toy box.

The BALL, not BALLS. (Yeah, just leave the bottle, there's a big tip in it for you.)

At this point, I actually see no sense in going any further. All I'm going to say is that the results were AMAZING and complete with my kid tossing himself into a snowbank, sans coat, minus hat and the newly created policy being repealed JUST FOR HIM.

I compensated for the whole thing with ironic music selections for the drive into the office. I let Dave Gahan's voice swirl around me and encourage me to Enjoy The Silence. And then? I went straight into this.

Because it truly is a fine day.


UPDATED: Do you ever do something stupid and with little thought and THAT is the thing you get noticed for?

All the time.