DEDICATED TO MY SISTA - MY INSPIRATION AND MY IDOL......

The Rappin’ Ballad of Harry Potter

Harry’s got a scar in the middle of his head,
He got it ‘cause his parents were both killed dead.
He was the only one that avoided the spell,
And now his life is doomed to be a livin’ hell.

He lived with his aunt and his uncle and his cuz,
But they hated his guts cuz of what he wuz.
He crib was a closet and he was treated like a slave,
But he sucked up his tears and tried to behave.

He was rescued from the closet by a very hairy guy,
Who told him he was magic and taught him to fly.
Harry was told he was goin’ to a school,
To learn to work his magic – he was gonna be cool!

He boarded the train to Hogwarts and then,
Met some great kids who would be his new friends.
He arrived at school and had to wear a hat,
That told him which dorm he’s be livin’ at.

Harry and his friends started learning their stuff,
While putting up with bullies who could kinda’ be rough.
Harry learned to play a game where he had to catch a ball,
While riding his broom without takin’ a fall.

All this time a really bad dude
Was spying on Harry and plannin’ his moves.
This was the same guy who had killed Harry’s folks,
And left the scar on Harry which wasn’t no joke.

Harry discovered that he and this dude,
Would have to fight a battle to settle the feud.
Only one could survive and that was the bummer,
Would Harry be the winner or were his days now numbered?

The day finally came for the stand-off to happin’,
Harry was the winner and there was plenty of clappin’.
He never had to worry about that bad dude again,
He could live his life with his woman and his friends.

THE END

Nannie Hart McClinton and Jo Hart Murphy

This is a picture of Nannie Hart
McClinton and her best friend, Jo
Hart Murphy, daughter of Joseph
C. Hart and Nancy E. Duke. The
picture was carried by Papa Watson
in his watch fob as long as he lived,
along with the next picture which is
Nancy (Nannie) born in 1908.

Are You My Mother?

Nancy Estelle Watson, born November 28, 1906
wants to know which of the two ladies in the picture
together is her Mama. Please cast your votes......

Bumpus the Badgered Gets a Little Wisdom

Rufus has a way of badgering us about any given topic if we do not make the plans he wants in the time frame he demands. Tonight, he was trying to strong arm Bumpus into staying home, while Boudreaux and the girls went to a soccer game.

Rufus: "Mama, Daddy said he might stay home from the soccer game. If he stays home, can I stay with him?"

Bumpus, already a bit annoyed at the badgering that had herewith commenced: "I did not say that I might stay home! I said I would see, which is not the same thing as saying that I might. I was avoiding an answer to your question because I dId NoT WAnt TO deCIDE YET!"

[Editor's Note: that loverly capitalization pattern is intended to illustrate Bumpus's rising voice.]

Rufus: "Sound just like Yoda, you do."

Wisdom of Rufus #731

Referring to the fighting prowess of the litte green muppit on Star Wars, who was created when ET and Kermit the Frog had babies:

"Yoda's got mad, mad moves."

At This Point in My Existence, I Have No Life

I would just like to verify something you already knew, by writing it down for the sake of posterior: I have no life. I am at the point of my 100+ year romp through the wilderness where I have no time or energy for anything besides chores, work, making sure that the people under 35 in my home stay in one piece, occasionally reading, and watching Big Brother. That looks damned pitiful and, I am pretty sure if you look it up in the Urban Dictionary, is exactly the definition of "having no life." I almost had some hobbies once, but then we had a Goozie Magoo instead, so now I am back to the no life thing.

Someday I will have a life and I will want to remember these days...

We are home. We have THE BOOK.

Stooping Even Lower Than Spaghetti-os

Tonight for dinner Magoo had 1/2 cup of Marshmallow Fruit Loops soaked in milk, a dozen goldfish crackers, and a slab of Velveeeeeeeeeetah.

Fatty's Got Several Issues and the Big One is the Weather Man

Every day of my recent life, between 5 PM and 6 PM, several significant parts of the universe collide with the sort of life altering explosion that makes me run for the box of cheap wine:

• I look up from my computer (where I've been engrossed in trying to work for the past 8-10 hours) to see, horrified and feeling exactly like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, that it's happening again...


• Children start coming out of the wood work, yelling "I'm HONGRY! What's fer dinner? NO I DON'T WANT THAT!"


• Someone shorter than waist-level starts yanking on my clothes, usually screaming.


• Bumpus walks in from work, hoping against hope to find a happy Cleaver Clan waiting with no snot on their faces, skids in their shorts, or stench of cheap boxed whine on their breath.


• Katie Couric comes on the TV.


• I realize that I have no Martha Stewart-worthy meal prepared and no loverly tablescape to serve it on.


• I realize that I don't even have the ingredients available for the above.


• I look at the house, which seems to have been hit once again by the dual devastation of Hurricane Magoo and Hurricane Rufus while I was engrossed in my work.


• I suddenly need a nap.


• The weather man comes on TV.

The result is that I go from zero to bitchy in less than 1.27 seconds. And nothing tops that off with a bigger gulp of wine than the weather man. Now, I have nothing against our own particular weather man. It's ALL OF THEM. Why are they all so damned Katy Couricky perky? Is it because they are going to make guesses that might not come true and that 9 out of 10 times we're not going to like what they say any way? Willard Scott is the worst at being overly sir-up-ee, hippity happity doo. I'd like to stick a pencil up his nose.

What we need in this world is a "real life" weather man. How about "reality TV weather"? This person would come on looking slightly rumpled, no make up, possibly slurring due to cheap boxed wine. He would say things like "Hey you bunch of domps! It's hotter than hell outside! What the hell are you doing leaving your kids in the car?!?" or he might say, "I've seen more than my share of idiots driving 80 mph in the rain. If you mental midgets haven't looked outside yet, it's raining, so slow down!" Or how about "yep, it's rained almost 2 inches today, enough that your Fido's turd has floated into your neighbor's yard...now your neighbor has another reason to hate your sorry ass."

Then at least I would know it was a real person and not a Max Hedroom talking to me.

Do I sound a little annoyed? Just look at what time I posted this.

A Poem for My Sister

AUNT CHOC! AUNT CHOC!
Oh what do you do?
When yer pink feathered tutu
Is covered in poo?

Fatty Takes a Salad Break. It's Either That or Go to Choc's House for Some Fiber Pills

One thing that is GAR-AN-TEEEEEEED to get me to stop shovelling greasy, delicious food into my mouth is the thought of eating anything while wearing a bathing suit. If we were forced to eat nekked, we'd all be supermodels. So amidst my Harry Potter obsessing and my getting back to my beans-and-rice-in-a-bottle South Texas Mexican roots, the ladies formerly known as "play group" (makes them sound like a bunch of candy ass soccer moms but just put a trough of margaritas in front of them and watch what ensues) planned a pool side pot luck tomorrow. The thought of my jiggling at that fiesta sent me straight to the internet to look for a salad recipe. Here is what I found, from Cousin Tracy's blog.

Cranberry Pecan Couscous Salad in Lemon Dressing

Fatty's Four Word Food Review: HOLY CRAP IT'S GOOD!

This Made Me Laugh: "texas witness protection"

On our hit counter (didn't the Sopranos have one of them, too?), I like to look up what references lead people here to our comfy little corner of space. This one made me laugh: a Google search for "texas witness protection" comes up with one result, a blog entry from back in 2005. The one with the wet bulldog. That is before he became certifiably epileptic.

You have to use the parentheses or else it doesn't work. How many of anything only produce one search result on Google anymore? I mean, my lord on Ba'hi, a search for "great googly moogly" turns up 66,600 results. Typing in "rastafarian kitty" gets you at least three, and even "toenail phobia" gets you nine.

Does this mean I get some sort of award for creativity in B.S.?

I'm going to wait by my front door...Ed McMahon may be here any moment.

PS: "ed mcmahon" gets you 386,000 results. Now this reference makes it 386,001.

Shake Yo Booty, Girlfriend!

Check out the moves. She is a little camera shy and so stops the full-throttle boogie down when she sees me filming. Yo Mama: That is your loverly birthday baby electronic club music in the background.

For Yo Mama: We are READY for South Beach!

Hello? Aunt Choco-Fiber? Are you there?

Just wait until the real cell phone bills start rolling in...

Fatty is a Southern Mexican Belle, After All

Hang on to your cholesterol readings! Here's the next recipe, guaranteed to make your general practitioner shake his chubby little finger at you.

Eggs in Hell

I won't bore you with the details, but it is eggs poached in homemade ranchero sauce. The inspiration for it is on page 28 of THE BOOK referenced below. However, because I'm a good Southern Mexican girl, I laddled it over some grits rather than serving it with flour tortillas.

There are some vegetables in there somewhere...

The Fall Garden, Phase I

Apparently, Bumpus thinks I need more vegetables in my diet. So he agreed to break his back and help me dig a fall garden. Check out this monster:

We still need to add some compost. Then we can begin the heated arguments over what we will be planting. Rufus suggested a Money Tree.

Fatty's Food Endorsement: I Like Spaghetti-os.

And yes, I am embarrassed to admit it! I hadn't eaten them in about 20 years and would have told you that I found them to be pretty damned nasty, but Goozie threw one at me today, it landed on my lip, I ate it and decided it wasn't so bad after all.

That was Chef Boyardee spaghetti rings and meatballs. Only 222 calories for a 3/4 cup serving. Next time the hurricane heads this way, I'll forgo the oatmeal and stock up on CB and cheap wine instead!

Did U Ever C 1 of These?

Folks here call it a Nite Blooming Cirus, ugly
vines look like snakes or something. Blooms
only middle of the night, opens up more than
this but Yo Mama got tired of standing there
and thought U could jest M-magine it 4 UR
self. Each bloom only good for 1 night.

Yo Mama Got a New Obsession

My latest craving, kinda reminds me of how I feel about the dressing at Thanksgiving.
When it is hot I just add a little salt and butter and sit down for a feast, sorta like grits
or somthing. Then with the cold leftovers I add chopped onion, tomato, bell pepper,
celery or whatever be in the house and have a nice luncheonette. Best news is that
ain't no body else in the house (cept Lucy) that thinks it even smells good, and it DUZ
smell. Yum >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> not as good as Mesican Chow but sure
is a quick and easy Meal For One. Those who don't take to it eat cereal. :--))))))

Also good with a little gravy, warm, when you B having Lemon Pepper chicken or
Pork tenderloin. Nizest thing there is that I don't have to eat the pkg. Mac & Cheese.