flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

June 28, 2005

Damn You, Shrek!!

Shrek is a terrible influence. I’m telling you, keep him away from your kids!

I used to think it was cute or even funny when the Heir would blame Shrek for all sorts of nonsense – from stealing the extra cookie to pushing the Moth down. If Shrek didn’t do it, he instructed Sean to do it.

But now he’s gone too far.

First, he got candy out of our snack drawer and hid it in Sean’s bag so Sean could have contraband candy at school.

Then, he snuck a little toy off the store shelf into Sean’s pocket. Sean was forced to apologize tearfully to the shopkeeper when I found it, because I wouldn’t believe him when he said Shrek bought it and gave it to Sean to put in his pocket. Everyone knows that Ogres don’t have money.

I don’t think Shrek’s sweet tongue will be tricking Sean into doing anything like that again any time soon. But damn him for ever starting my precious baby down the road of juvenile delinquency.


The Return of Birdwoman!

Well, I’m back. And I’m not mad. At least, not in an angry way. (cue maniacal laughter.)

I wish I could share some amusing travel anecdotes, really, but fortunately, I have none. I say fortunately, because amusing anecdotes are usually only amusing afterwards. They’re almost always the result of some horrendous torture. Our trip was blessedly uneventful, aside from some haranguing at the Philly Airport, otherwise known as The Airport That Blows Chunks And Sucks Hairy Sweaty Balls. Sorry if that was too graphic.

Florida was nice, the kids all had a blast together, and I’m glad to be home. That’s the way it always is. Travel is fun, but my own bed is my favorite place in the world.

I’ve also joined the Aught decade. I’ve had my first
Red Bull (I can understand the draw, man. What a BUZZ.) And, I saw Team America World Police. Picture Kim Jung Il with Cartman’s voice... Enough said. John and I have been waiting for DirectTV to have that on pay per view – after seeing it, I can guess they never will. It’s WAY too offensive. And, it’s funny as hell. I recommend it if you’ve no problem with South Park humor.

Thanks to the husbands clan for the hospitality, thanks to the commenters for the good wishes.


June 22, 2005

Loooong Weekend

The Flightless Flock is taking a vacation. We're going to see John's sister and her fambly, and, challenge of all challenges, we have to fly to get there. Damn, you'd think a birdwoman could do better than United Airlines. Alas. Flightless.

The broomstick is out of commission, too.

While I'm gone, could someone do the windows? Pollen has been very bad round these parts, and I've not done the spring cleaning yet. And it's now officially summer. Yes, I have once again achieved a new level of loser status.

Finally, John and I saw an entire movie together last weekend - National Treasure. Not bad, for a DaVinci Code/ Indiana Jones cross. Only problem? Nick Cage just can't play a brain trust. Raising Arizona - that's his niche.

have a happy, see you next week (if work is more agreeable, or rather, less disaggreable.)


June 21, 2005

Engine Trouble

So, I’m driving to work this morning. There’s this car with its hazards on blocking the right lane, and no one behind me, so I roll down my window.

“You need me to call someone?” I ask. I am of NO use with machines of any sort, but I have a cell phone.

The woman kind of shrugs and laughs nervously.

I sighed and pulled over in front of her, clicking on my hazards. I walk back to her. She’s got the hood popped, but not open, a bottle of oil in her hands, and a puzzled expression on her face. She knew she needed to put oil in, but didn’t know how to open the hood.

So, I open the hood, prop it, take about 10 minutes trying to figure out which one is the oil one, open it (she’s in trouble – it’s completely dry in there), and instruct her to pour the oil in there. She’s all like “I’m so useless with cars” and stuff.

Well, so am I. That’s why I visit a mechanic at least every 3000 miles. I mean, how hard is that? But I just smiled and told her to get the car to a garage as soon as she could, and that it would smoke because she spilled some oil on the engine block (makes sense to me, anyway).

Did make me feel all sorts of useful, though.


Rogue Bloggers!

We were watching Harry Potter and the Chamber Of Secrets the other night - they had the uncut version on ABC Family. John hasn’t been into Harry Potter at all, so he started pestering me with questions (we had picked up somewhere around the first quiddich match). Watching the scene where Dobby corners Harry in the sick ward, John says, “Is that the guy who sent the rogue blogger after Harry?”


“You know, that ball that broke his arm?”

Pause “Oh, you mean bludger!”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

I start to snicker – thinking of Rita Skeeter blogging about Harry. Whole new meaning of rogue blogger.

Then, I hear John huff. He’s getting all mad, thinking I’m laughing at him. Which makes me laugh harder, because if he only knew… I’m so sad…

Oh well, he married me, after all. I guess he does know. Deserves an award, that one.


June 15, 2005

Search and Rescue

It’s always fun for me to see how people find their way to the dusty aviary. I have SiteMeter (see bottom of the page) not so much to see how many hits I get, but to see my referrals. It’s a hoot!

The best are the googles that lead to the hag. My biggest ever has been my post on the
Dugger Clan; I guess that I’m not the only person in the world freaked out by “14 children and pregnant again!”

But the random searches are the fun ones. Today’s best was someone searching for www.bad-girl 3.blocks. I have no idea… no wait, I have a really bad idea what they were looking for. Instead, they got my post,
I’ve Been a Bad, Bad Girl... which was about me sneaking into movies.

I’m guessing they went to the next google hit PDQ.


June 14, 2005

We Interrupt This Blog...

It's hot as crap outside today. Humid, too.

That said, my associates decided we needed a special meeting today - the Moolatte meeting.

I say, a mocha moolatte is more aptlty named Theobroma - fruit of the gods.


Go surf elsewhere. I'm working on a good ice-cream headache.


June 13, 2005

Dead 8

So, 20 years on down the line from Live Aid, we’re (Philly) hosting another Aware-mess concert. This time, it’s Live8, as this decade’s proclivity for text messaging takes yet another nauseating victim.

Last time, there was London and there was Philly. The artists were pretty evenly spread.

This time? London gets the gamut. Classics like Elton John, Pink Floyd, REM, and Cure. New fangled bands like Coldplay, Keane, Snow Patrol, Snoop Dogg (sore thumb alert). And everything in between, like U2, Sting, Madonna. It’s a who’s who.

What does Philly get? FiddySent, Bon fricking Jovi, Maroon 5 (I like them, but they’re no Coldplay), Jay-Z (unless his hottie shows up, too, this is nuttin), Sarah McLachlan, Dave Matthews, and Stevie Wonder.

Only Berlin has it worse: Brian Wilson, A-Ha, and Lauren Hill are their headliners. Wonder if that Nena chick is busy? She could always sing that 99LuftBalloons again.

Yeah, it’s a “free” concert. Free for the goers. Not free for the city. They’re closing off mega blocks to traffic on Independence Day Weekend – that’s Philly’s biggest money maker for tourists. The extra police etc that will be necessary alone will cost big bucks.

And we get chump artists.

I only hope that Dave Matthews has a better bus driver this time. Just what we need – more shit from the pop stars.


June 10, 2005

Morbid Thought for the Day

My mother has a saying – deaths come in threes. It seems to have some historical precedence in my family.

I’m going to a funeral today and one again tomorrow. Tomorrow will be the third in a little over a month.

I’m not looking for a pity party, here. One funeral is for a friend’s mother, and the other is for my aunt, who was quite elderly and picked her own path out (not that she won’t be missed). Just commenting on the weird coincidence.


June 09, 2005

Uncle Reg, What Have You Done?

Did I ever tell you that I’m an Elton John fan? No?

From “Take Me To The Pilot” through “Billy Bones and the White Bird” and the disco years of “Mama Can’t Buy You Love” up through the “Club At The End Of The Street,” I have dozens of cd’s (yes, and tapes) of EJ.

And I defy anyone of my generation to say that they Don’t have an Elton John song somewhere in their psyche that makes them smile, just to hear a riff.

But something happened. It happens to all artists, I guess. They mellow out, get all their wishes granted, whatever. They lose their edge. I guess it saddens me most with Elton because he was good for so long. Starting with “The One” and through that awful rendition of “Candle In The Wind,” I’ve lost the faith. I haven’t even given Peachtree Iced Tea, or whatever the new album is called, a listen. I only know there’s a new album because XM was hawking it a while ago.

I prefer to pretend that he stopped making music around 1990. I mean, he’s one prolific dude. I have plenty to choose from even excluding 15+ years of music.

Comments? What's your elton john song of choice?


June 06, 2005

The Curse of Billy Penn

So, after the Moth woke up from his nap yesterday, the Clan of Birdwoman took a trip over to the Philadelphia Zoo. We have a membership, see, so we get in free now. Late afternoon entrance means good parking, few lines, and no excuse to linger.

Nothing like a whirlwind tour of the reptile house to round out a Sunday afternoon.

For the first time, the
ZooBalloon was actually functional while we were at the zoo. Once we got to the top, I figured out why they close it so often. Even with the leaden air of yesterday (high humidity, no wind on the ground), the balloon was a-shakin and a-groovin.

To keep your mind off the fact that your fate is entirely controlled by a cable and helium balloon maintained by Philadelphia’s top cracker-jack union engineers (let’s ask
since Billy got overshadowed. At least, that’s what the voice of the zooballoon had to say.

Hey, if Boston got over Babe, maybe Philly can get over Billy. Only time will tell.


June 04, 2005

Changing the Sidebar and Other Personal Notes

Her Laziness, Queen Birdwoman, hath chang`ed the sidebar this morning.

Please note that my "blog roll" isn't that large - I just described the blogs. I've been reading blogs for about two years now, though I've only been playing in the sandbox for a few months. Call me lurker. Anyhow. My blogroll ain't so big, but it's got a bunch of blogs that are really awesome.

Oh, and I updated the "just read" section, too, though it's Harry dominated. One of these days, I'll put the link to the Lois and Clark fiction over there... too lazy to go back now, though.

Oh, and if you're a clogger recipient - after many months, I'm going to go get some film developed this weekend. Look out below!


June 03, 2005

50 Things I Love About Philly In No Order Particularly - #41

(Like the title says, this is a list of things I've loved about philly, in the 17 years I've lived in this area. Also, like the title says, they're in no particular order. It's also not an inculsive list. These were just the first fifty that popped into my head. I'm gonna dish one up fresh, weekly. Also, I've started at the "bottom" to keep you tuned in. It's part of my nefarious plan for readership. Mwa-ha-ha-haaaaa.) (Like the title says, this is a list of things I've loved about philly, in the 17 years I've lived in this area. Also, like the title says, they're in no particular order. It's also not an inculsive list. These were just the first fifty that popped into my head. I'm gonna dish one up fresh, weekly. Also, I've started at the "bottom" to keep you tuned in. It's part of my nefarious plan for readership. Mwa-ha-ha-haaaaa.)

The Old Houses In Germantown

Back when I was a financially-challenged student, I didn’t give a real thought as to the esoteric value of my living environment. If it was cheap, I’d consider it.

One of the graduate students in the music school owned a house that he rented out rooms in while he tried to fix it up. His house was in Germantown.

Take Lincoln drive, exit on High street – at least that’s my memory – it might have been called Harvey street on that side of Germantown ave… and follow it up past the high school. That’s where I lived for a few months (yes, right around the time of the Germantown rapist, though I never told Mom that.)

The house itself? Oh, God, what a house. Three story, stone Victorian. Gas pipes still in place for gas lighting. Servants’ staircase. Parlor, dining room, living room, kitchen, tons of bedrooms and at least 2 baths. And it was surrounded by houses just like it (in similar or worse states of disrepair and neglect).

Never mind that I counted the crack-pipes on the way to the bus, that neighborhood was gorgeous. Gorgeous. If you could look beyond the abandonment.

The house across the street will be ever called Miss Haversham’s house to me – it made the house I lived in look small and well maintained. Beautiful. I understand that it still hadn’t been hooked up to running water when I lived there.

I walked a lot through the nooks and crannies of the neighborhood that summer (hey, I never said I was smart). That’s when I found the hidden (to me anyway) paths in Fairmout park and the treasure trove of restored old Germantown houses.

I don’t know if it’s still the case, but if you’re looking for a house, don’t care so much about schools or neighborhood safety, look in Germantown. Those old houses… so much potential!


June 01, 2005

Don’t Touch!

OK, so I’m not a virgin anymore.

I got my first massage on Saturday.

A girlfriend of mine and I went for a day of “pampering” at a spa. The last time I did something like this was just before the Moth was born. I had a manicure, and a pedicure, and a really good haircut. Nothing like looking down at pretty red toenails in stirrups… no, we won’t go there.

This time, we went with a package deal: manicure, pedicure, hairdo, facial, and massage. According to my facial chick, my skin shows that I have irritable bowel syndrome, or some other silliness (I just agreed with “amazement” at how she could know that!) The hair, feet, and hands were all nice (bonus points when they let you sit in a Sharper Image chair while doing the foot thing!)

But the crowning point is the massage.

I’m a prude! Surprised?

I associate getting nekkid with 1) my husband and some Al Green tunes, or, 2) the doctor’s office (see stirrups, above).

I really, really didn’t like wandering around a spa in someone else’s robe, tossing it off hither and yon so people could put their paws all over my bare back and clavicle. Just something… oh, I don’t know… icky about the whole thing.

Won't be doing it again, any time soon!