the Bucky Four-Eyes Cotillion

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Oh, what the hell

Still too snarly for my own (or your) good today. Snarly, bitchy, mopey, suddenly teary-eyed for no apparent reason. Ain't addiction grand? Children and small pets are afraid of me right now.

So I think I'll try my hand at the meme I dug over at Susie's pad.

I am from:

I am from paper moustache, from Pop-Tarts and Tang.

I am from the big white house, crammed full of family and family stuff, haunted, you can hear the voices if you're all quiet enough.

I am from the white birch in the back yard, the ubiquitous tulips that I never fully appreciated until just recently.

I am from loudly sung Irish songs, and from bad feet, from Don and Jackie and Genevieve.

I am from the oversexed and musically inclined.

From thinking for years that Goldilocks jumped out the window, broke both her legs, and had to drag herself home; and Dad's recitation of his original chiller poem, The Crollymog. From "Gotta watch out for that 3:30 traffic." and Mom's valium before she got in the car with all of us for those 8-hour trips in the summer.

I am from deep and stubborn Catholic roots. From my uncle the priest and my dad who was in the seminary for a year before he decided to pursue the husband angle. From family members on my dad's side who are not happy at all with my rejection of the church. I love 'em anyway. We just don't talk a lot.

I'm from Kentucky and Ireland and Germany, from Spam and fried baloney.

From the brother Timmy who, when given a moldy hot dog by Mom, threw it against the kitchen wall and declared, "Ugh! You gave me a moldy hot dog!", the brother Timmy who gave me the nickname "Bucky Four-Eyes" more years ago than I care to admit, and the sister Squirl who kindly took it upon herself to explain birth control to me in plain language when I was 12 (thank you, I said childlessly).

I am from from all the paintings Tardist has done just for me, from the silly recordings he and I have made and will probably make again; from Timmy's kids, my nephews and niece, who have grown up so much more well-adjusted than any relative of mine has a right to be; from the folders on my hard drive that have all the old family photos that have been scanned in (and some are just waiting to be defaced and posted here); from the CDs of JD's music, which sounds just as good to me today as it did when I was a teenager; from the rum cake Squirl makes me to undo everything I accomplish at the gym; from the arms of parents who actively encouraged all of us to pursue our creative tendencies.

I need to quit my bitchin'. I'm one lucky twat.

24 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':

Blogger Torrie said...

This is a meme that is worth doing.

And, please don't quit your bitchin'.
It's entertaining.

10:53 PM, June 14, 2005  
Blogger Susie said...

You lucky twat. Thank you for doing this. I love your house and the white birch (my daughter asked, at 3, "is that a dalmation tree?") Jif and I were recently trying to explain to LG what Tang was (is?). We put away some Tang.
You know we're going to ask: The Crollymog. We need it. Can we have it?

11:30 PM, June 14, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Bucky, darlin', that was absolutely beautiful. I'm glad you're not snarky/bitchy all the time, but when you are, your words are absolute poetry ("ubiquitous tulips").

Always your fan.

11:51 PM, June 14, 2005  
Blogger greatwhitebear said...

Lovely post.

11:51 PM, June 14, 2005  
Blogger Squirl said...

That was good. I don't know that I'll do one now. Susie was hoping we'd do them separately. I couldn't put off reading yours so your words will be in my head if I try.

4:48 AM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Mr. Bloggerific Himself said...

I am proud I am from the state that equals fried baloney in Bucky's mind. Somebody fry me and put me on toast!

6:50 AM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Nilbo said...

Gorgeous ... this is a meme worth doing. And Squirl, don't block Bucky's out ... use it as a springboard ...

7:09 AM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Nilbo said...

... I mean, it wouldn't be the first time she's been bounced on.

7:10 AM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Katy Barzedor said...

Torrie - Thanks for the encouragement for my bitchin'. Jim may never forgive you for that. ;)

Susie - I am a lucky twat. Tang and all. Heh heh.
I'll have to put my head together with Tardist, Squirl and Timmy and see if we can remember the whole Crollymog.

Dazed - another vote for my snarkiness? Jim has his hands full now, for sure.

Bear - thank you, sweetie!

Squirl - oh, no. I did it, now you gotta do it too. Like Susie said, you were around for a couple of years before I came along...

Mr. B - I can only imagine you on rye (wry) toast.

Nilbo - dude, you promised you wouldn't tell about us in a public forum.

8:27 AM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Mr. Bloggerific Himself said...

With special sauce?

9:19 AM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Katy Barzedor said...

Mr. B - I'm sure you make your own special sauce.

9:22 AM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Mr. Bloggerific Himself said...


9:55 AM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Squirl said...

I wanna tell everyone that when she says that house is haunted. She's not kidding. That bedroom upstairs is the scariest room (that's not a basement) that I've ever been in.

11:02 AM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Opera Gal said...

damn, bfe - you're gettin' all pensive nowadays.

11:05 AM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger SierraBella said...

Very nice!
What ever happened to the brown sugar & cinnamon Pop-Tarts that weren't frosted?
Spam at our house was topped with brown sugar, a pineapple ring and baked like a little tiny ham...

11:48 AM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Susie said...

Well, then, Bucky and Squirl, we'll be needing us some haunted house stories.

12:07 PM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Katy Barzedor said...

Mr. B - I think we need to bottle that.

Squirl - Yup, I'm pretty sure the basement has its own spirits, but that back bedroom upstairs? SPOO-fuckin-KY!
Just thinkin' about that room makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck. How the hell did we grow up there and not piss our pants all the time? Did we really just ignore it that easily?

Opera gal - I know, I HATE it! I don't want to be pensive, I want to be a spastic 'tard like always. Somebody, gimme a cigar, pretty pleeeeeease?

Sierrabella - Oooooh, sounds like Spam was more of a special occasion 'round your house. Our was just thinly sliced, pan fried, and brought out on a big-ass platter.
I don't know about the unfrosted Pop-Tarts; if I'm gonna eat 'em, by god, gimme frosting. Mmmmmmmmm!

Susie - we'll have to get together with Tardist, as he had the really haunted room as his own for many years, and has some much more specifically creepy stories that we do. I actually stayed in there a bit myself, and now I really can't imagine why. *shudder*

1:36 PM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Mr. Bloggerific Himself said...

Bottle it huh? Hmmm. Special Sauce Packaging.


4:21 PM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Squirl said...

Mr B, we know you'd have just the perfect packaging.

5:40 PM, June 15, 2005  
Blogger Candy said...

Wait. You have haunted house stories you have not shared with the class?

I am very unhappy. Fix it now.

7:47 AM, June 16, 2005  
Blogger Katy Barzedor said...

Mr. B and Squirl - the new Special Sauce marketing team.

Tardist - I don't know how you slept in that creepy-ass room for so many years. I always liked the stained-glass look, though.

Jess - I don't know how I could have been so remiss in my duties as a story teller. Truthfully, I don't think about the haunting in the house very often. I guess we were just used to it when we were kids. The sibs will have to put our heads together and give up the ghost, so to speak.

8:20 AM, June 16, 2005  
Blogger LadyBug said...

That was nice, Bucky.

The softer side of Bucky...all weepy and willowy and thankful.

I like it.

For the record, I also like the assless-chaps Bucky. (The, umm...HARD version, I guess. Teehee.)

10:42 AM, June 16, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Let's jump into that Plymouth Volare with the three kids and the dog and go up to Ironwood for a couple of weeks, Rich I'll pack the bologna sand-witchs and we'll eat them AFTER we cross the Macinac Bridge somewhere. Heck...we could visit my parents first in the Traversified City. Now the trip will only take 12 hours from here."

Every summer...yea..90 friggin degrees in the humid air of the ole Plymouth from 1970 to around 1982 This was exciting...the good ole days....the family car...the warm bologna sandwitches just West of St. Iggy. For entertainment, my brother and I would purchase a can of those flat beef jerky things, 10 a piece at the Holiday station and sse who would have the most left by the time we arrived in Grandma's driveway in Ironwood. Check out you local mapquest for trip info. Don't forget to stop in Traverse City first.

11:03 PM, June 16, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'd like the name Sunshine Superman bu apparently it was taken. I then tried Loriea. My mother called me that and would then laugh out loud like it was some super funny joke when I was 13. Yes ages I am 40 going on 41. Cancerian...anyhow...

I will just try Anonymous and see how that works.

The main reason I am here again and so soon, is to let you know to start your trip on Mapquest from Coopersville, MI and go to Ironwood, MI via Traverse City MI. Back in the 70's, the speed limit was 55...everywhere. what a drag and no not the race.

11:12 PM, June 16, 2005  

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