It's a freaky Friday roundup, for shizzle

Imagine my amusement on finding this book that my bf apparantly read as a wee lad.

Yes, it's Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm and the Witch Who Ran Out of Jizzle. You can see it was purchased for 20 cents at Bradlees, which in the pre-Wal-Mart/Target era, was every mom's favorite discount emporium, along with Caldor, with its brown rainbow logo. (And before them, I think, it was Two Guys? At least where I'm from.)

No matter! Clearly, there's something much more important to discuss.

JIZZLE! Apparently a certain slang term I'm thinking of was not established yet in 1974. But at least if it's a witch running out of this substance called "jizzle," it's probably not a guy...right?

WRONG! This fellow is pictured here on the title page on his knees, looking for some more jizzle. But then, after he arrives on a broomstick with a "Splut! Splutter!" the witch reveals its name is Hazel. (Witch Hazel, get it?!!?) So then Pebbles asks "Da Da Goo Goo" and the witch of undetermined gender asks where the nearest jizzle station is. It goes on, but I don't want to ruin the ending for you.

(It's happy.)

(Hee hee.)

Who knew?

I had never paid attention to Mo'Nique before, but apparently she's awesome. I just watched her comedy special filmed at the Ohio State prison for Women and let's just say, there was LOL'ing going on. Not since Johnny Cash... well, not since Metallica maybe has a cultural figure rocked the prison in such a caring manner. It was quite touching, and I nearly cried at the end, as did Mo'Nique. Then again, I did cry watching the Rankin-Bass special Santa Claus is Coming to Town the night before. There's no telling what'll set me off the further away I get from angry teenage CoKane.

Get in shape, girl!

So, in anticipation of going back home for the holidays, and spending time again in NYC, and hoping to not look like I've been eating as much cheese as I have and drinking as much beer as I have while also walking less than ever, I've broken out my pilates DVD for the first time since moving. In the past, I've made efforts to get more in shape if I was, say, going to be in public in a bathing suit, or going to visit a gentleman friend. Now I'm trying to get in shape for a city.

Until I get my "Pilates for Indie Rockers" and "Yoga for Indie Rockers" DVDs for Christmas (with an instructor named Chaos? Could there be a less appropriate name for a yoga instructor except possibly Black Metal?), I'm using the old standby pilates DVD hosted by Liz Gilles. I'm fond of this DVD, and can recite all the words, but one of my favorite parts about it is Cory. There are a few gals performing the routine behind Liz, and one is a turbo-muscular woman who is doing a more extreme version of the exercises than Liz. I don't look at her; instead I watch poor, sweet, sleepy, lazy Cory, who does the more gentle versions and who always looks like she might have fallen asleep for just a wink or two on the floor exercises. I have never been one for strenous exercise, but even I never need to do any of the easier Cory modifications.

Everybody should have a Cory to make them feel better about themselves.

Do they know it's Christmastime at all?

These favorite local flowers of mine just made another comeback, reappearing with a fresh round of trumpet-like blooms in December. What? And those red ones from our backyard that I've posted here before are still kicking. That is just craziness. It's certainly pretty, but let me get to some snow.

UPDATE: And we also have the first baby Creole tomato! (In just about the center of the photo) So I heard December and January are the real "winter" months here? Does this mean I can garden all year round? Sweet.