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Posts Tagged ‘crow’

After much cleaning of The Bob’s living space a few days ago, while he had to wait in the shower, all was fresh and clean and nice.

This was not okay with him, and once he got back into his temporary home, he immediately started rearranging everything.

The Bird and The Mom cannot seem to agree on decor.

Nothing new about that, is there?

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Many years ago, my father, William A. Mahan, put an ad in ‘The Recycler’, for a roommate, as his mother was in the Motion Picture Country Home, and he had to take care of her, and needed someone to take care of the house while he was gone.

Louise Hogarth answered the ad.  It seemed like a good fit.  Bill liked her and got her into the editors union.

She manipulated him, and myself, for decades.

She is all over the internet now, promoting herself, using her grants to jet around with one film or another, she does not know how to use the Avid, or Final Cut Pro editing machines – the list is so long.

She came to the wake we had for Bill, sneering at all of the “skinny women,”  while sitting on the deck rail, a smug look on her face.

Then she approached Tomas to score “The Gift.”

He worked very hard on it, but alas, she screwed him also.

Ahh Louise – I remember back when I was working on Walter Hill’s film “Geronimo”,  Bill called and begged me to give you some work, anything, you were sinking.

I called her, and while I went off to the scoring stage, asked her to arrange the change reels by date and put them on the rack.  I gave her $100 out of my pocket.

She was happy, my father was happy, and she drove off in her beat up car.

Poor Louise.  It is so nice to see that her lies, manipulations, and screwing people over has paid off.

You go, girl.

Just remember, the ghost of Bill, the Bird, and the Mom despise you, and someday soon you will be exposed.

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I finally had to brush poor Vito the Cat, little Vinnie’s large, black brother.

He has had dreadlocks that have been driving him insane.

So, I snuck up on him in the living room, and began trying to separate and pull the dreaded dreads out.

Vito was not happy, and he made it clear.  Bobby was watching, and making growling sounds, with the occasional holler.

The whole ordeal took over an hour, with Tomas coming out halfway through to help.

I soothed everyone, then committed the ultimate sin.

Pulled out the vacuum.  Bedlam.

I am, as of this post, the most despised mother EVER.

Pop an exedrin, guzzle some milk, and leave everyone alone for a while.

All will be forgiven, in time.  Or not.

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brought to you by slumlandlady and lord.

Judy Davis Farash and hubby Martin Farash.

The stress therapist and her husband, the addiction specialist.

Just. Too. Funny.

I believe this falls into the category of “non-fiction.”

Samantha Dunn?  Did I get it right?

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“Vote for ‘The Lost Girls’s’ Blog!”

We are, Bobby. Every chance we get.

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The Mom Sings A Song

Clean the bird, tuppence a bag….

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“Vote Early and Vote often”

Bobby D the Crow

“Bobby, I believe that was a quote from Al Capone”

“Yes, mother, but he is dead and I claim it.”

“Be careful what you claim, Bob, they did get him on tax evasion, you know.”

“I eat what I earn.”

“True…well, I am going to go shower now.”

“Don’t forget to Vote Early and Vote Often!”

The mother has left the building.

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“Bobby,” I say, exasperated.  “It is not a gambling game, it is a writing game. You are many fantastic things, but you are not a writer.”

His look, coupled with his “tell it to the hand” attitude, suggests I go to my FInder folder, pull up pictures, and get back to him.

“Fine.” I answer, making it clear with my retreat that he can tell it to my ass.

Well, I am busted, he gets to play.

bobby_writer_cropped.jpg

 First of all, the rules, sent to me by the SO cool Sherri Cornelius, who “tagged” me to play this game. Being a newbie here on wordpress, I have no idea what being tagged is, but I think it is a badge of honor.
Learning, immediately forgetting, learning the same thing over and over….AHH, the GREAT circle of life! (The first person who recognizes that film quote wins…something. I will figure it out later.

BACK to the task at hand.

First, the rules:

1. Link to the person’s blog who tagged you.
2. Post these rules on your blog.
3. List seven random and/or weird facts about yourself.
4. Tag seven random [?] people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
5. Let each person know that they have been tagged by posting a comment on their blog.

We are now on Rule Number Three. (Rule number 1a is the mom gets to go first).

MOM:
Sixteen years ago, when I was twenty nine, I went to the UCLA psychiatric facility to seek help for depression. I received ten minutes of interaction, and was sent home with a bag of antidepressants. I was misdiagnosed. These medications – prozac, wellbutrin, too many to list – have helped many people, but in my case, they caused my heart to stop. I was in my apartment, luckily with a sort of ex-boyfriend, as we were trying to work things out. He called 911, and the paramedics applied the paddles over and over, until one of them said, “Well, it’s time to bag and tag her”.
(Mind you, I have no memory of this – this was told to me, in great detail).
My boyfriend pleaded for them to try one more time and viola! – heartbeat.
My heart stopped again in the ambulance, but the got ‘er going again.
However, all of this insanity left me in a coma for a week, and when I came to, I had brain damage. I was a grown woman with the brain capacity of a six-year old. The family were discussing what facility I should be shipped to.
I woke up in the UCLA psyche ward with two weeks of my life absolutely blank, and it has stayed blank.
I woke up to a team of psychiatrists standing around my bead, charts in hand, asking me if I knew what I had done.
That is an unsettling question.

BOBBY:
“And you have the nerve to call me a three year old. I am going to snap at you when we are finished.”

MOM:
“Bobby, it is your turn to tell us something about yourself.”

BOBBY:
Well, besides being the real writer, I have become a vegetarian. At first I ate beef, McDonald burgers were just the best, I ate chicken, yeah, yeah, I know we are related, don’t start. But I find that I like dry cat food, cheese and egg whites. I believe the egg whites come from living in Los Angeles. I have been bombarded with donated magazines that I shred, but I do read them, and it is very, very important to stay svelte.

“Bobby, dry cat food is fattening.”
“Shut Up – your turn, Dead Zone.”

MOM:
When my father died, five years and three months ago, I divorced the rest of my family. Mother, sister, brother. I have chosen to have no family. Tomas and you, Bobby, along with the cats and Wullith the rabbit, are my family. I like my in-laws, but they are on the east coast, so whenever we get to see them it is a real treat.

“Why can’t I go with?”
“I smuggle you into the house, how do you think I can smuggle you onto a plane? I can barely get on a plane.”
“Point taken.”

BOBBY:
I love to have my head and chest scriched by the Mom. I demand it, by pounding on my condo, then putting my head down and waiting. She always complies, she cannot resist, and I make her do it until her arms hurt and she has to quit. It makes her feel guilty, but I cannot help it, it just feels so good. I think she is getting some kind of Karma for always wanting backrubs from the Dad.

“You dont even know that I get backrubs, brat.”
“Mother, you have no idea what I know.”

MOM:
I went to the DMV to renew my I.D. and was informed that I was on the suspected terrorist list. I use that fact whenever someone is working my last nerve. You might want to remember that, Robert.

“Oh puh-leeze. You SO scary when you call me Robert. See? I am shaking.”
“You are shaking because it is cold out here. Want the heat on?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.”
“Can I say one more?”
“NO! the game specifically says SEVEN! God!
“But how about seven for you and seven for me?”
“Honestly, I really cannot tell which one of is the most self-centered.”
“Well, everybody knows the world revolves around the bird. How ’bout hitting that heat?”

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From Bobby D

“Please do not confuse the mother’s sister Shannon Mahan with the Photographer Shannon Mahan who lives in Arlington Virginia and is a man who works for the government.
This could get all of the humans involved either in trouble or just plain confused. Although the mom’s sister Shannon Mahan is a fine amateur photographer, she does not live in Virginia. However, as far as her working for the government, we really do not know much about her. And she is much to smart and mean to be a man. Hope that clears things up.”

Caw! Caw! CawCaw! Caw! Caw!

“Excuse me. On a different topic, I would like everyone to know that I have decided that Ruffles potato chips are ‘da bomb’, as I guess some of the humans say. Don’t ask me how a reference to a bomb translated to ‘it tastes great’ – but, hey folks, you’re people. You are very, very weird, but I have to say, you make great chips.”

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