Contest the Second

Y'know I can't stop at just one contest. That's no fun. So, I present to you the second Halloween contest for this year:


Here's the deal with this one. I'll post a picture, YOU write the caption. (And by "caption," I mean a caption, a thought bubble, a title, whatever text you see fit to apply. I'm not picky.) I'll even post more than one picture, so if one doesn't strike you right away, you can try another.

Now, for some pictures:

Picture 1 by artist Joe Olson:


Picture 2 by artist Kevin Keele:


Picture 3 by...oops. I have no idea where I got this one:


Leave your captions in the comment section, or email them to me.

For each entry you submit, I'll put your name in a drawing for a HALLOWEEN PACKAGE!!! So the more you enter, the better your chances, right? (No limit on number or frequency of entries.)

Oh, and if you want to put a link to this contest in your sidebar of your blog, here is the HTML (don't add it as a picture--add it as HTML or the link and the animation won't work):

<a href="http://muskadillo-dreaming.blogspot.com/2008/09/contest-second.html" target="_blank"><img src="http://i160.photobucket.com/albums/t193/muskadillo/captioncontest_small.gif" border="0" /></a>

Have fun. (And if you haven't submitted an entry for the other contest, do that, too.)

Original, untampered-with image of Death by Alex Fleisig;
lame thought bubble by me.

I'm No Economist, but...

...does anyone else find it scary that the only way the government has to bail out the banks (who are in trouble because of credit problems) is by borrowing 700 billion dollars?

Hmm. Let's see. So because the nation is living on credit, our economy crashes, and we're going to fix this by extending our credit even further?

I don't get it. And it's just too scary to think about.
*shudder*

So, to cheer us all up, here's a trailer for--no, not a Halloween movie--but a good ol' feel-good family favorite:

Hey! It's FAAA-ALL!

That's right. It is now officially fall. And you know what that means, don't you?

It's only...




More specifically, that means for the next six weeks or so I'm going to be having a little bit of Halloween on my blog, starting with a contest. (Jeff said to wait at least until October 1st, because some people will get sick of it, but this is my blog, and I can do what I want with it. So if you don't care much for Halloween...I don't know. Come back in November?)

Okay--let's get down to THE CONTEST!!!

The Three Fates Need YOU

Did any of you catch the Three Fates post I did last year?

Do you remember the Three Fates Web Site?
(Click on the picture to go!)


This year, the Fates came to me and complained that their site needed some sprucing up. Actually, they threatened to...well, cut my life short if they didn't get what they wanted. They promised that the end would be uncomfortable and messy, to put it mildly. Part of the conversation went like this:

Clotho: We need some serious attention.
Wynne: AAAAGH! Where did you come from?
Atropos: And more death.
Wynne: You scared the crap outta me. Do you always go sneaking up on people?
Lachesis: And I could use a few more numbers...
Wynne: What are you doing in my house, anyway?
Atropos: And more death.
Clotho: I need more fabric, y'know? The stuff I've got is old and no longer chic.
Wynne: This is really weird.
Lachesis: And I'd like more variety in how I'm able to weave the fabric...
Wynne: I don't get it. Why are you here? What do you want me to do about any of this?
Clotho: Get me more fabric, Lachesis needs different lengths, and Atropos wants more ways for people to die.
Lachesis: Duh.
Atropos: And do it or I'll kill you now.

Yeah. Freaked me out. But what it boils down to is this:

• The Fates want more options when assigning Fate to mortals.
• I don't want to write any more for them. (I did that last year.)
• So I'm asking you to do it for me.

1. So take a look at their site, and write some text to go in those boxes.
2. Email it to me, or leave it as a comment on this post.
3. There will be prize packages* awarded to a lucky few.
4. I'll update the Fate's Web Site with your text in it.**

****ALSO: I'm not choosing winners by content. Each time you submit an entry, your name goes on a slip or paper and goes into a jar. You can submit as many entries as you want. (So the more you enter, the better your chances of winning.) I will be drawing from that jar at the end of seven days. I'll empty the jar. Then I'll take more entries for the next seven days. So if you don't get something the first time, maybe you will the second time around. Or the third.****

Got it? What are you waiting for, then? My fate is in your hands! (Please don't fumble.)

Oh, and if you want to put a link to this contest in your sidebar, here is the HTML (don't add it as a picture--add it as HTML or the link and the animation won't work):
<a href="http://muskadillo-dreaming.blogspot.com/2008/09/three-fates-need-you.html" target="_blank"><img src="http://i160.photobucket.com/albums/t193/muskadillo/fates_contest.gif" border="0" /></a>

*At this time, I have no idea what will be in these prize packages. Something Halloweenie, sure--but what? Candy? A severed hand? Week-old toast and toenail clippings? Only the Fates can tell...
**IF I LIKE IT. That's right. You can get a Halloween package for free, but to get your text on the Fate's page, it's gotta be good.

Gettin' Jiggly With It!

I've never been a girl with many curves. I've always been rather noodle-y, as a matter of fact. Long and thin...and limp. Here, a self-portrait of me as a kid:

See what I mean? And it's never changed much. Here's another portrait updated for when I hit puberty:

There. Not much curvature, is there?

Well, have I got some exciting news for you! After some 30-odd years of stick-straightness, I've got some curves!

Well, okay, just one.

And it's not the desirable kind of curve. It's just belly-fat. Buuuut—it's fun! It's squishy, it refuses to stay within the confines of a waistband, it's wrinkled (thanks to Jake) like a raisin that's been soaked in water overnight, and it jiggles like...well, you know.

So I recently took some preemptive measures: I joined a gym. It's been 5 years since I've had a gym membership, and...I find it just as intimidating and odorous as I ever did. I mean—c'mon, I'm a NOODLE. I've never been athletic to any degree—I've NEVER been able to do a cartwheel (no matter how many lunches I devoted to trying to master them in the fourth grade); I'm more likely to get the ball into the other team's goal then my own; I can't even walk down an empty hallway without running into the walls and injuring myself...seriously. I have a scar on my forehead from tripping over a dog (the dog was unharmed). I have another scar on my lower lip from tripping over a blanket (the blanket was also unharmed). I am a menace to myself and to anything else within twenty feet of me.

And if that isn't enough, I also sweat like a pig on fire. Seriously. The sweat pours like Niagara Falls, or Tammy Faye's mascara—I'll soak a shirt completely through in fifteen minutes.

I feel a little guilty walking into the gym and NOT wearing a Surgeon General's warning on my back.

And not only am I threatening the lives of all those around me, but it's just plain humiliating being a noodle in an aerobics class. First of all, the aerobics teachers are ALWAYS small, compact little people with the only enormous thing about them being their chests and their enthusiasm. Little cheerleaders, bouncing up and down with so much energy and satisfaction in what they are doing it makes me dizzy.

Next, they put mirrors on all the walls, so there is no way I can escape the comparison: a roomful of people, so athletic-looking, powerfully jumping around and kicking the air and smiling—for Jiminy Cricket's sake!—and then there is me, with an expression on my face that looks as if I'm trying to pass a horseshoe, bobbing up and down like a 12-year-old Irish boy in his first Riverdance tryout. Sigh.

I'd just skip the aerobics, but I know I'm too lazy to be trusted to do anything else. (I'd walk for 5 minutes on the Stairmaster, and then say, wow! I'm bushed! and spend 50 more minutes reading a book in the car.)

Anyway, I'll be going back. Again, and again, and again. Please wish me luck, pray for the innocent bystanders, and hope that when I fall down (which is inevitable) I'll be able to take down at least a few overenthusiastic exercise-enthusiasts with me. Curse them.

Puppy Love: A Confession

This particular post has been sitting in the drafts folder for a few months. I've been reluctant to post it because I know it's going to get me in trouble.

*sigh*

But I'm going to have to tell him the full extent of this sooner or later...

*ahem* (girds her britches)
I may as well do it now.

You know one of the best things about springtime? Besides the slightly warmer weather and flowers coming out and all that?

BABIES.

Baby bunnies, ducklings, kittens, puppies.

Oh, yeah. Sweet fuzzy love...

I have to admit, I really enjoy animals. And baby animals are especially enjoyable (they're too young to stink—have you ever noticed that? A puppy rarely has bad breath, and a kitten is one of the softest bits of fluff ever.)

Back off the digression—> So, back in Centralia, I was friends with an uber-friendly black lab named Jojo. When she heard Jake and I walking by her house on one of our rambles, she'd run out to meet us (there is not a fence that man has built that could keep this dog in her yard) and walk with us for a long way. Usually, she would follow us back to our house and hang out in the yard. Sometimes she would go home after a little while, but sometimes I would go outside a few hours later, and she'd still be sitting on the front porch.

So I got in the habit of giving Jojo a ride home in the car just to get rid of her. (We couldn't just walk her home, because if we did, she'd follow us home again. The car ride was brilliant solution to an overly-friendly dog problem, if I do say so.)

Bonus: She loves car rides.

Wrench in the gears:
Jeff: "You've been doing what?"

Jeff didn't like me giving Jojo a ride home. I guess I can see his point: she sheds, she doesn't exactly smell like she has a bath too often, and it's pretty likely that she has fleas...okay, I get it. Don't give the dog a ride home in the car anymore. Which means, avoid dog because she will follow us home and hang out in front of the house for hours. Okay, got it.

But guess what?

Jojo had puppies.

Making her irresistible.

The good thing about this is that the puppies were too small to go anywhere, so if we went to visit her and her adorably wiggly brood, she would not follow us home. She would stay at home with them like a good mom.

Jake gettin' some puppy love

So this past spring, we went by Jojo's a lot.

(Another thing about the home where Jojo lives: apparently, they like dogs. They have about ten of 'em: a daschund, a chocolate lab, another black dog that looks like a cross between a collie and a lab, two bulldogs, and all the puppies. And all of them are escape artists. Even the puppies had figured out how to worm their way under the fence and come meet us at the side of the road. Very convenient for us. It kept me from hopping the fence and trespassing.)

Anyway, the last time we went to Jojo's, almost all the puppies had been given away. There were only two left. But it's not like we were missing out on doggie love—all the dogs knew us at this point, and ALL the dogs would come out to get a good scratch.

When the time came to go home, we told Jojo goodbye and started to walk away.

But she followed us.

So did her two puppies, who were much older at this point, and ready for an adventure.

The chocolate lab followed us, too.

So did the black lab/collie mix.

So did the daschund.

Mercifully, the bulldogs felt like taking a nap.

What were we to do? You can't shoo them—they just laugh at you with their tongues lolling out. You can't put them back in their yard and close the gate—they just get out again. (I tried that about three times.) No owner was home to distract them. I finally shrugged and went home, hoping that they would get bored and go home.

They didn't.

It was like I was the Pied Piper or something—six dogs and one child trailing me—and I don't even line my pockets with bacon!

As soon as we got home, I loaded them all into the car to take them home again. (What else could I do?)






Once we got them back to their house, I opened the doors and let the dogs flow out into the street...and some poor guy just happened to be jogging past. His mouth dropped open, and a few of the dogs immediately ran at him and started barking. I called the dogs off, and apologized to him, and explained they weren't my dogs—at which point he decided he was dealing with a complete loony and ran away. (I suppose it must have seemed pretty funny to him watching all the dogs come out of the car like clowns in a tiny clown-car at the circus. And he must've thought I was a dog-napper. Or something.)

So we delivered the dogs safely and went home. And I did not tell Jeff about our adventures.

(Honey, if you're reading this, I can safely promise you this will NEVER happen again. See, Jojo lives in Centralia, and we live in Spokane! I'm pretty sure she's not going to follow us home anymore.)

Did you know...?

...that Michael Phelps will be hosting the season premiere of Saturday Night Live?That's right. He is.

Main questions I want to know: Will they let the poor guy actually wear a shirt? Every time I see him, the kid is nearly naked, and that must get pretty cold.

Also, what kind of skit will they have him in? Maybe something like this?




...that if you rearrange the letters in "Barack Obama" they spell "Maraca Kabob"?



...there are still some people out there who haven't seen Napoleon Dynamite? Namely, OMAR. Omar has not seen Napoleon Dynamite, which is why he doesn't understand what a liger is, and why it is stalking him.
Omar, your only hope is to vote for Pedro. Then Pedro offers you his protection.


...that there are only 61 days until Halloween?
Yessssss.

...that Teletubbies, a show for wee children, has its moments of...well, unintentional humor? Jake and I were watching it long ago, and Jeff walked into the room when the following bit was on. He laughed, and kept laughing.




...that since McCain has announced Sarah Palin as his running mate, Tina Fey is jumping up and down for joy and planning a return to SNL just so she can play her in upcoming skits?

...that I had absolutely nothing to blog about today?