A local Filegirl reader alerted me to the fact that I was mentioned in the current issue of The Pitch.

The Pitch is a weekly newspaper purportedly aimed at Kansas City's counterculture and every year they have a Best of Kansas City edition.

Filegirl was mentioned under the "Best Blogger" heading - not as title holder - but it's cool to see your name in print when you weren't expecting it.  

I'm not familiar with the winning blog.  I do read and love the Reader's Choice winner:  Death's Door. 

Tony's Kansas City was also mentioned and is one of my favorite blogs.  He criticized (the day this issue came out):  "Anyway, what is important to understand about The Pitch is that it’s a make believe alternative rag. Like what Blink 187 is to punk rock or what Bryant Gumbel is to Black people."  

Ha!

I will say, Tony, that over the years - whenever I've wanted to hook up with other deviants but didn't know where to find one - the back pages of the Pitch has always been a good place to start looking.  And isn't that really the main thing.

This morning I'll drive R to the doctor.

Not only is he getting his balls cut, he has to have my signed permission to do it.  

Ah, emasculation.  It's good for 'em every once in a while.

Row row row your boat

gently down the drain.

Going through a turbulent time?  Stuck in a rut?  Though many couples turn to their urologist for help, the fact is...

The text pointing to the little purple sperms indicated them as saying, "Single file, people."  and "Smiles, everyone!  Smiles!"

"Yes, Mr. Smith.  You will still be the head of your house.  You will still want sex and enjoy sex and be every bit the macho sex-machine man you've always been.  Now take this permission slip home and have your wife read and sign it before we proceed with the surgery, please."

Above graphic also demonstrates how they teach young men to tie a bowline knot in Hell.  (Remember:  The rabbit comes out of the hole, goes around the tree and runs back down the hole again.)

Her:  "Sweetie...It's been five months...Think you'll be going back to work soon?"  

Him:  "Hi Dear!  Oh-Ohhh, my balls..."

Wait a second.  I don't see on here where it says those need to be done on my face.  ?

"Good God, put those things away Woman!   Doc says I'm now free to have sex without risk of pregnancy.  Besides, your husband's condoms wont fit this massive organ!"

A Kansas City Chiefs football game is on tonight with them playing the Dolphins in Miami.  The game was moved up because of Hurricane Wilma's impending arrival on Sunday.

I have no idea what's going on in the game - other than the Chiefs are winning - because I'm doing my own thing.  But R's got the game on TV in one room and on the radio in another.

I've sort of been tuning the announcers out.

But I did catch this:

Announcer:  "That time the Dolphins got penetration."

Rodney:  "I saw that movie once."

My husband hates my music.  I like a lot of the same old stuff he likes, but whenever I share a favorite newer song he can't make fun of it enough.  My recent favorite song has been Gold Digger and R can't stand it.  It doesn't help my case at all that it's by Kanye "George Bush Doesn't Care About Black People" West.  But I don't care!  Jamie Foxx freakin channels Ray Charles!  Also, the lyrics are hilarious and it's a song I still can't get enough of. 

What's Porky getting ready to do to Sylvester?

Flower pens are regular ink pens crafted into a flower (someone wraps green florist tape around the whole thing and adds silk leaves and flower on top) - and they are kept in a vase or a flower pot, rather than a pencil cup, so they look like a bouquet.  But they are not just for looks - they are to use - with their floppy flower weighting your writing toward one side or another.  It's very annoying and...STUPID.

But he didn't.  He just came back to me with the color completely drained from his face - his lips were WHITE.

He said, "You should have taken a picture of me."

"You mean like a before and after the procedure?  Here, let me just show you."

Last night I boarded a ghost trolley for a ride around Atchison, Kansas - "The Most Haunted Town in Kansas."  The narrator shared the ghost stories and legends of a dozen or so of the 19th-century mansions that we stopped and gawked at.  

The ride also took us out to a dark park in the woods called Molly's Hollow.  The story goes that Molly was a young slave girl found to be "spending too much time" (nudge nudge wink wink) with her slave master and was confronted and hanged in the park by the master's wife and her friends.  Townsfolk say when out there at night, many have heard mournful moaning and then an all-out bloody-murder scream that they attribute to Molly.

What I don't get is why nobody was out there screaming last night to scare us.  Where were the teenagers?  If I were a teenager in Atchison, you can bet I would've been holed up in that park last night with friends getting ready to scare the pants off whoever I could on the trolley.  It would have been so easy it makes my mouth water.  There were no cars at the park at all - no other traffic on the winding road out there.  No one to keep some kids from being dropped off by a friend and then just hanging out on a beautiful fall night until somebody shouted, "The trolley is coming!  The trolley is coming!" and they gathered and hid in dark trees.

Nobody in the trolley knew what was going on except that the tour was black at that point - no streetlights - and that the winding road had gotten so narrow, tree branches and bushes slapped against it on both sides until it finally came to a stop and the narrator shared Molly's story.  

Cue the scream.

Kids!?  You really let me down.

At the very least, during some stop on the ride I wanted to be jolted out of my seat by a bloody hook-hand slamming against the outside of my window but that never happened either.  Kids stay inside too much these days.

Now Molly isn't Atchison's most famous ghost.  A little girl- ghost named Sallie is.  This is because she was featured on the TV shows Sightings (during filming in the house, the crew supposedly witnessed "an attack") and Unsolved Mysteries.  The old train depot/trolley station where I boarded last night was selling t-shirts and postcards and prints depicting a sketch of Sallie drawn from those who've seen her's description.  

I looked around at Sallie's likeness - peering vacantly back at me from three of the four walls - and kept thinking she looked familiar.  

Then I remembered a drawing someone did of Andrea when she was about 3 years old, shown below.