The Blue-Nosed Witch
Before Halloween is over, I wanted to share with you my all-time favorite book that I read every Halloween. It used to be my mother's, then she gave it to me. It's called The Blue-Nosed Witch and it was written in 1956 by Margaret Embry. It's the story of Blanche, a little witch with a broom and a black cat named Brockett. Blanche is a special witch because she has a blue nose that blinks on and off. It's a really spectacular book with fantastic B&W illustrations. It's very inexpensive (under $5) and you can always find a used copy on eBay or Amazon.
posted by Kirkkitsch @ 9:00 PM
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Yesterday I went to the big book sale I look forward to every year. It's held by the Women's Auxiliary every October. It used to be held at the Army Reserve near the park, but ever since "Operation Freedom," it's been moved across the street in the auditorium of the Lutheran church. Outside the church on the front lawn, they've been hosting a "Pumpkin Patch" for the last 4 years. They get their pumpkins from Native Americans who grow them specifically for the sale each year , and therefore part of the proceeds go to them. I killed two birds with one stone by buying a box of books (more details next week) AND a pumpkin. 
As I've mentioned on more than one occasion, I am a big Peter Lorre fan. With that said, I wanted to make you aware of 3 of his best horror/crime movies that will be coming on Turner Classic Movies tonight, consecutively at 7PM • 8:15PM and 9:15PM (check local listings for time and channel).
At the risk of inciting more 
My point is, you'd never DARE suggest Christmas be shuffled to say, December 27th, so why Halloween? Because you think God is on your side? Feh. It never ceases to amaze me the convoluted thinking people will come up with to justify their own agenda. Absolutely mind-blowing. And I thought it was bad when the churches around here came up with their cornball "Harvest Parties." Yeesh. That sounds like fun:
I dread the thought of future generations saying (providing they can form complete sentences), "I remember around Halloween time, we would..." No! Noooo. Not around. ON Halloween. This kind of bullshit is what makes people like me harken (harken? Did I just use the word "harken?") for the old days, when things weren't made unnecessarily complicated. 
All I'm saying is this. I KNOW times change. I can deal with that. But do they always have to change for the worse? Are we, as a society going to suck ever little morsel of fun out of everything before it's all said and done? I'm not saying don't be safe. I'm not saying don't take precautions. What I am saying is don't let traditions like Halloween die or be altered to the point beyond recognition, just because you grew up.
A few nights ago I had a hankerin' for an Ultimate Cheeseburger (What?! You like hamburgers?!) from 
A friend offered to take me and buy our tickets but I wouldn't feel right having someone spend $50 on me (the same amount I'd bet he doesn't remember the concert to begin with. He's a busy guy.). I'm not too keen on people paying my way, anyway. It gives me what I call the "Little Match Girl Syndrome." Besides, I hate to go somewhere and not have money to spend on the fun souvenir stuff, like a program, buttons, stickers, etc. Forget the concert t-shirts, my big thing is the tour program. I dunno what it is about them, but they make me feel like I've really been somewhere, ya know? Years ago, I found 2 old tour programs at a Half Price Books in Dallas and snatched them up: Madonna: Like A Virgin and The Police: Synchronicity.
I'm sure by today's standards Morrissey would be considered "Goth," not unlike The Cure, but back when I was listening to them they were categorized under "Pop." Regardless of category, I still enjoy listening to both groups. And even though Morrissey isn't for everyone (which isn't always a bad thing), perhaps because of his often melancholy lyrics and/or singing style, I own all his CDs, with the exception of his latest one. You know how there are just some things that you KNOW you're gonna like even before you've seen/read/heard them? Morrissey is that way for me. Sure, he's done his fair share of not-so-spectacular 
One of the things I always enjoy about a Morrissey or even a 
Yesterday I had lunch at my favorite place to get a hamburger: 
Just a quick update on who (singular, since no one else entered) won my 
Back in early September, I posted a blog entry about 
Since I've joined BlogExplosion, I've been doing a lot of surfing of blogs via their point system (I love to use em' in conjunction with the banners that promote my blog). I've "blogmarked" plenty of good blogs and I've also seen WAY too many bad blogs. "Bad" by my standards, that is. Everyone has their own pain threshold. 
Okay, I finally got to sleep around 7AM (insomnia) and I'd no longer been asleep maybe 2 hours before some motherfucker rang the doorbell! I'll give you three guesses who it was: [1] Ed McMahon, [2] Peg Boggs, Avon lady or [3] A Jehovah's Witness. Yep, if you guessed #3, you guessed correctly. Argh! As I've blogged 
Once upon a time there was a boy who couldn't sleep. And since he couldn't sleep, he thought to himself "I will go to the post office and check my post office box and see if I have any mail." So, late, late one night as he gathered his car keys (yes, he could drive. He was a very special little boy, now shut up dammit!) and p.o. box keys and was about to pull out of the driveway, he noticed that there was a light lit up on his dashboard that said "I don't run on kisses and magic, asshole! Put some oil in me, ya slob!" Or perhaps it just had a picture of a little oil can that indicated the car needed oil. Either way, he turned on the headlights and popped the hood so that he could put oil in the car before heading off to the spoooooky post office. As he was putting oil in the car, the wind blew and the trees rustled. As the oil emptied into the oil receptacle, he gazed under the hood thinking "Wow. It's dirty in there. (he had OCD)" Then he began to flashback on images from all the horror movies he'd seen where someone got killed while working under the hood of their vehicle: 
Once safely in his car, doors locked, seatbelt on, the boy backed out of the driveway, into the street, and started on his way towards the spoooooky post office. Once there, he parked closest to the entrance that was nearest to his p.o. box. The post office had been remodeled 4 years earlier and was very beautiful and secluded. As he walked through its' doors, he looked around the labyrinth of p.o. boxes and tabletops and thought to himself "This would so make a good place to make out with someone. Oh the sexy possibilities! (he's such a perv)" Reminding himself that this wasn't an episode of Red Shoe Diaries, he made his way to his p.o. box. Upon opening the p.o. box, he gasped in horror at its' contents: A church newsletter from his parent's church (eek!), an expired Tuesday Morning circular (ack!) and a belated birthday present of $5 off a carton of cigarettes from Marlboro (cough!). The horrors! After closing the p.o. box door, he thought to himself "I'm gonna go see if they have that Priority Mail boxes display out, so I can pick up a few boxes while I'm here." As he walked towards the front of the building, the shuffling of his sinister shoes (they're old and brown) echoed throughout the building, reminding him of how alone he truly was. He started thinking about horror movies again. Horror movies with chases through corridors: 
Do you like crust? How about 7 dollars worth of crust? Then purchase a bag of Tyson Popcorn Chicken Bites. They should change their product's name to "Popcorn Chicken Crust." Kentucky Fried Chicken may do chicken right, but Tyson apparently has cornered the market on crust, 'cause that's exactly what I got for my $7. Maybe 30 nuggets and the rest were crust nuggets. Money well spent... not!
At the risk of putting possible new readers to sleep, I normally try to distance myself from the whole politics "thang." It's like Charles Durning said in one of my favorite holiday films, Home For The Holidays: "Opinions are like assholes: Everybody has one and everyone thinks everyone else's stinks." So eloquently put. However, judging from reading a lot of other people's blogs lately, it seems I'm not the only one who's breaching the topic lately.
I love 
Today's blog is going to be my answer to Hints From Heloise. Chock full of recipe ideas, handy tips and knowledge that I've stumbled across over the years. 
• If you put sugar in a big kitchen salt shaker, it's easier to use. I use this idea a lot, especially when I make cinnamon toast or oatmeal. It's also helpful when my parents come over, 'cause they drink coffee like it's going out of style. Salt shakers are SO inexpensive now, there's no reason not to try this.
From Me:
Now for a few simple (my favorite kind) recipes. However, before I start, a bit of trivia you might find interesting. As you know there's a product named SPAM. And you've probably heard of it's inferior cousin, Treet. BUT, did you know there was once a version called BIF? Lol! Seriously. I've included a scan of the original magazine ad. 
Source: Family Circle © 1966
Thank you, for being a friend! A few days ago I "discovered" a site called 
God help me. I just lusted after a puppet. Yes, it's sad, but true. Being the lazy person I am, I never remember/make the effort to label my VHS tapes when I record something, so therefore each time I pop one in the ol' VCR, it's like playing the lottery. Sometimes I "win" and either have enough tape to record something OR the something that's already on the tape is something good. But I digress. I popped in a tape yesterday and it had an episode of Crank Yankers on it, in which one diabolical puppet continues to prank call a woman named Lois Lane, grilling her as to the whereabouts of Superman. As the skit comes to an end, a shirtless, yet be-caped {?} puppet of Superman sits up in bed. My first thoughts: Yowsa! Nice pecs! "Nice pecs." SIGH. Sad, isn't it?
While we're on the subject of lust, Sixteen Candles was on AMC last night. Michael Schoefling is the epitome of beautiful, be it by 80's standards or any other. I could relate to Molly Ringwald's character: "The Donger's here 5 hours and he's got somebody, I live here my whole life and I'm like a disease." That's me. I've had friends over the years who have had THE worst taste in men, stayed in dysfunctional/abusive relationships and/or fucked everything under the sun with absolutely no consequences. Yet, I can't find someone to talk to who doesn't hover 4 inches off the ground or isn't a fuckmonster. What's up with that? I'm a good person. I have my merits. I'm trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean. Well, okay...maybe not cheerful, but still, surely I'm a viable option over some of the people I've seen coupled up and making out in the lines at Six Flags. Perhaps if I actually interacted with people or went where they gather. That may be the key. On second thought, that involves a lot of effort on my part: smiling, feigning interest, disposable income. Eh, I'm not so sure now. As jaded as it may sound, I think I want a "boyfriend" like I want a pet; when I'm bored, sad or lonely. What a great basis for a relationship, huh? Maybe that's it, maybe I'm just lonely. Maybe I need to lower my standards. Damn me and my craving for human contact!
Today was the first day for early voting in my area, so I voted today. I didn't have to wait in line too long and it was interesting overhearing people's conversations and observing. It may sound strange, but every time I have gone to vote, including today, I'm always pleasantly surprised how nice/helpful people are. I was sandwiched between a black woman and a white woman and we all ended up discussing who had the best hamburgers, steaks and BBQ in town. Lol! It was kinda fun, dare I say refreshing? There was an elderly couple behind me that noticed me reading the "How To" poster on the wall, showing how to use the electronic ballot. Since this was my first year to use it, I was kinda nervous about fucking things up. She reassured me it was easy as pie, while her husband (compete with handkerchief and overalls) explained to me exactly how you use it. It was sweet.
