Those of you that have been here before know that I am all about nonsense and keeping it light, but I read a post today that really spoke to me and I wanted to pass it on. Allyson over at 400 Wake Ups is the wife of a US Soldier stationed in Iraq. By reading Allyson's blog over the past few months, I have learned a great deal about army life and about the seemingly constant sacrifices that soldiers and their families make every single day.
Today's post was about the war wounds that are not visible to the naked eye and how mental health issues, such as PTSD are not dealt with in the same way as physical wounds. While I do not relate to this from the perspective of someone that has friends or family in the armed forces, I do relate to it on a broader level, as my family has been impacted by mental illness and I have similar feelings about the importance of seeking help and eliminating the shame associated with these issues.
So for this post, I will be serious and encourage you to go pay a visit to Allyson and learn a little bit about the impact of PTSD on folks in the armed services. Don't worry, the seriousness won't last long. My next post could be an audio clip of me burping the National Anthem. Not classy, but certainly in character. Now git!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Once again, my son has dropped the You Tube knowledge on me. His latest obsession is a low budget movie written by, starring and directed by a bizarre French man named Tommy Wiseau. The movie is becoming an Internet sensation and has spawned a cult following and ritualistic viewing process akin to the old days of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. People gather in theaters to scream the lines and throw things at the screen at key moments in the film.
You tube is full of clips and compilations that highlight the many lowlights of this film. The best thing that this movie offers is some of the most unapologetically bad acting that I have ever seen, along with an obscene over use of the word "hi" and random football tossing that has no reconciliation to the plot whatsoever.
So as my offering to Stonehenge (and you) on this day of the summer solstice, I offer you two clips from Tommy Wiseau's opus "The Room". I dare you not to be quoting "Oh, hi Mark." in a generic European accent before the day is over. Happy Summer!
OH HI COMPILATION:
Posted by Diary of a Mad Bathroom at 6:47 AM
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Picture from here - freshcharacters.com
If you are a regular reader of this blog, you know that Mother Nature and I have had more than our fair share of scuffles over the years. We have had run-ins over hormones, chin hair, blizzards and all sorts of nasty little natural events, each laid out to test my good humor and naturally calm and angelic *demeanor . But today she has gone over the line and I am about to lose that good sportsmanship medal that I earned in summer camp in sixth grade.
*Note to husband and children – you can stop laughing now. Really. Stop it. OK, fine. You’re all on punishment.
So what’s at the root of my bitterness toward old twig head today? Today I was greeted with the second and more severe day of an early June heatwave. Mother Nature has cranked up the heat and humidity to hellish levels leaving me awash in a delightful candy coating of my own sweat. For the record, there are three kinds of liquids that I absolutely hate, Jaegermeister, Malta and my own sweat. I can only assume that prune boobs has cranked up the sauna in hopes of a good shvitz re hydrating her withering, goddess nether regions. Sucks for her but, can’t she just go on hormone therapy like everybody else? It is simply too early in the season for weather like this.
Tomorrow is shaping up to be a few degrees cooler, but still hot and humid enough to make me want to trip the first person unlucky enough to walk past my cubicle at work. Humidity always makes me surly and when my least favorite weather is dropped on my most favorite day (my birthday), my bitterness goes off the charts and I just wanna slap the birds out of a bitch’s hair. For the sake of those that I love as well as those that I merely tolerate, I think me and this hag need to get in the ring and box.
I didn’t always want to settle my differences with Mother Nature through a violent flurry of fisticuffs. No, there was a time when I thought that if I could just get Father Time to throw her the big salsiccia, she might back up off my shit. Time and I are homies, so I got her the date, but it seems that no amount of intergalactic wiener can un-bitch a bitch like this. He ended up broken hearted, with sparrows in his beard and a serious case of the crabs.
I suppose it's for my own good if I pause and compose myself before I administer any beatings to beloved mythological creatures. I could piss off some half wit water god who'll go and flood my town with the crash of a single wave or worse yet, I could get sued. I know my lawyer is good, but does he have what it takes to battle Zeus’ legal team? Probably not. Looks like I have to take my hot, humid lumps on this one. But MN better watch her back and keep her distance because I’m still tight with Medusa. My girl Dusa will lay her out!