Booger John!

Several years ago we had an exchange student from Spain named Lourdes living in our home.  One evening I was sharing the traditions of Halloween with her.  I was excited to tell her about all the events surrounding this holiday and the amount of fun children have with their imaginations.   When I finished explaining these things to her, she looked at me with a confused expression on her face and then she asked.  
“Are you telling me that you dress your children up like monsters?   You send them out into the dark streets at night and while you wait at home, they go to stranger’s houses asking for candy?”  
“Ummm yea...pretty much.”  I replied.
Obviously, there was something lost in translation, because Halloween didn’t sound nearly as fun and exciting when she said it back to me!   I had planned on telling her about the spooky carved faces on our pumpkins and how we decorate with bats, witches, ghosts and goblins, and put tombstones in our yards, but I kept that information to myself  (I didn’t want her to think we were going to suck the life from her veins while she was asleep in our home)!  I took off my witch hat, put down my broom and changed the subject. 
What made me think of this experience with Lourdes was a call I got yesterday from my daughter.  She relayed a frightening experience my three year old grandson had earlier that morning.  They were on the computer together looking at Halloween cartoons when she left the room for a moment to answer the phone.  He clicked on something that scared him half to death!  He started screaming in holy terror and scrambled up the flight of stairs into her loving arms.  My daughter was taken aback by his response and went downstairs to see what had frightened him so severely!  
She saw that he had clicked on a clip from The Nightmare Before Christmas and the background music was a scary Halloween song being sung by the groveling, demonic voice of Marilyn Manson!   It had scared him out of his wits; imagine having a voice so intense that it resonates fear into the hearts of little children and they flee in holy terror.  My daughter said she had to put soft angelic music on to neutralize his brain!
Don’t you remember being scared to death as a child?  Boy I do.  Once I was frightened from infinity and beyond!   When you’re a child, that level of fear is short of a lobotomy and it stays in the mind forever.
The most frightening thing in my life was one Halloween night when I overheard my older brothers and sisters telling a horrifying story.  It was so scary that it shattered my sense of well being and sent chills riveting down my spine!  This was a legend that had been handed down from generation to generation in my neighborhood; there was no way I could ever escape it’s ugly grasp.  This scary monster was so frightening that the very mention of his name sent a wave of trembling fear from house to house and even my dog was so terrified that we hid together underneath the bed! 
This frightening tale was that of a dead man called Booger John, who made the Wolfman, Frankenstein, and Dracula look like cake decorations.  Booger was from the grave and the mental images that formed in my mind were wild and vivid.  His clothes were torn and covered with dirt, he had worms crawling around in his eye sockets and the rest of his face and body was oozing with rotting flesh.  I don’t know where this legend came from, but I can tell you where it went!  
Booger John was a walking corpse right out of the cold, damp grave.  He was buried alive by a man with a patch on one eye and had only two fingers on his right hand.  (Now, if Booger John didn't scare the jaheebees right out of me, the man with one eye and two fingers did,  because he was wandering around out there too!)   
That fateful night when Booger was being buried alive by a man with one eye, there was a child who took a short cut through the graveyard and witnessed the shocking scene!  The legend has it that Booger John is still looking for answers.  He waits until dark, slips out of his grave and wanders aimlessly through the city looking for that one child and believing this child has the answers to the murder.  Booger John searches endlessly, night after night and it's just a matter of time before he finds your house!!!  Wait!  It gets worse, the one eye man is afraid of Booger John finding him, so he hides in your closets and under your beds!   
OKAY, OKAY OKAY!  There is nothing more vivid in detail than a child's imagination and Booger reigned fear and terror in mine.  The image of him was permanently etched in my brain with a hot branding iron and some of the scar tissue is still there today!  
Now that I'm an adult, I realize there are bigger boogymen in the world I live in today than Booger John, such as the IRS, collection agencies,  poverty, illiteracy, discrimination, politicians, war, and the list goes on and on.   I am no longer afraid of graveyards, (although, I am in no hurry to reside there)  it’s the living that present the dangers in life, not the dead.  I still love, love, love Halloween and believe there is a little child in all of us screaming to come out and play. 

    by, Linda Sumner Urza, One Fine Day




Cellular Attraction.


My life is never boring and I’ve had the most bizarre and random experiences happen to me in my lifetime, but this one takes the cake! 
I’ve owned the same cell phone for years, and I am attached to all its features.  It’s the original Palm Treo 680 innovative smartphone, and it’s such a great little phone that over the years I’ve worn the printed lettering off the buttons.  It’s scratched, dinged, bruised, and chipped, but it can take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’.  

My children teased, “Fred Flintstone came by and he wants his old phone back.”  Oh, that’s really hilarious, but wait until you hear the rest of the story, it’s no laughing matter.  It’s true, I’m a creature of habit and I stick with the things that work for me.  I believe if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it!
Last year, I let my husband pressure me into a free upgrade, (totally against my better judgement) and I headed to the Sprint store to pick out a new phone.  It was excruciating for me and I haven’t been stressed out like that for a long time!  I felt like I was betraying a loved one.   
Reluctantly, I started browsing through the phones.  There were hundreds to choose from and they came in all colors, shapes, and sizes.  This was serious business for me.  I used the same criteria women use for picking out a good husband.  “Would it be durable enough to hold up under pressure, would it stand the test of time, and would I fall deeply in love with all it’s features?”
Literally, two hours later I was still trying to figure out what to do.  Finally, I gave the frustrated salesperson my choice; whereupon, she did an unforgivable thing and asked me for my old phone.  I felt like she was trying to kidnap my first born! 

“Why do you need my old phone?” I replied with suspicion.  
“I need to transfer your numbers into your new phone.”  She replied.
“Do I get it back?”
“Sure, if you want it back?” 
What did she mean, “if I wanted it back,” OF COURSE I WANTED IT BACK!  What kind of person did she think I was, that phone had been my personal therapist for over three years!  I had a sick empty pit in the bottom of my stomach as I watched her suck the life out of my faithful little phone.  The strangling fingers of fate slid around my skinny chicken neck, and I could hardly stand the thought of giving up my trusty old friend.  Then she powered down my Palm 680 Treo, laid it on the counter, and handed me this lightweight, sleazy imitation of a cell phone.
The thin impostor felt like a slab of cheese in my hand compared to my Palm 680; I stared at it like a stranger from a foreign land.  I was having second, third and fourth thoughts, but the deed was already done and I had the receipt in hand!  I took it home and tried to make the best out of the worst situation!  
Later that day, I read the instruction manual and surrendered to the fact that I was determined to make it work.  When I was learning how to use the buttons, I went to the picture mode and to my surprise it identified a picture upload.  I was curious how there could be a photo in the new phone, so I pushed the button to retrieve the picture.   It was a picture of a Sprint employee flipping the bird!  I’M NOT JOKING!  A great big fat finger in my face and behind the finger was a sleazy, cheesy grin!  It was double the insult for me; I had no emotional attachments to the phone and now I felt it had the same feelings for me! 
I marched back down to the store, put the fickle finger of fate up to her nose and asked if she had given me a, “used cell phone”.  The salesperson apologized and explained that the memory card must have had the photo on it when she transferred my numbers, and it inadvertently uploaded the photo.  Yes indeedy, it was a picture of their employee sharing his IQ.   
She apologized out of both sides of her mouth, erased the picture and handed me the phone.  Well, ho dee doe!  I didn’t really want the phone back, it was tainted, and nothing she said made me feel any better about my experience.  I stuffed the skinny impostor into my purse, thanked her and left the store.
Two days later, I decided to paint my husband’s office, when the new phone rang.  I picked up the skinny impostor and propped it between my shoulder and ear; (I wanted to have both hands free to stir the paint).  While I was talking to my sister, the phone slipped out from between my ear and shoulder like a wet bar of soap, and landed in the paint can!  I immediately reach in the slimy brown paint to retrieve the phone; it was coated on all sides in Midnight Mocha latex paint.  My new cell phone looked exactly like a dipped milk chocolate candy bar! 
It’s been over a year since this experience happened and I’m proud to say that I am still using my Palm Treo 680 innovative smartphone and loving it!   “Don’t hold your breath, Fred Flintstone, you won’t be getting this phone back any time soon!”  
  


Linda Sumnner Urza, One Fine Day

20 Myth Busters!





20 Myth Busters! by Linda Urza
   Myth: a misrepresentation of the truth.   

Myth: Marriage is the uniting of two souls. 
Busted: That can’t even be done to a pair of shoes!
Myth: Happily ever after...
Busted: ...after what? Did anyone even ask?
Myth: Two love birds in a tree.
Busted: Two flew over the cuckoo's nest.
Myth: 1 + 1 = 3
Busted: To do list: Cash out IRA & sell Jaguar  
Myth: Children are little angels from heaven.
Busted: "Who in the devil lit the cat’s tail on fire?"

Myth: "Honest Honey, those pants look great on you!" 
Busted: Even a diamond will crack under pressure.    
Myth: Take time to smell the roses.
Busted: "Ewe, who did that?"
Myth: Your blind date, who they say has a great personality. 
Busted: "You'd better be the one that’s blind!"
Myth:  "I’m an entrepreneur." 
Busted:  "Did you say entre manure?" 

Myth: The great American Dream!
Busted: Nightmare on 1600 Pennsylvania St. 

Myth: Handsome, athletic man seeks female companion.
Busted: Bald, chunky monkey, will settle for anything! 

Myth: "Baby, I'm gonna rock your world!"
Busted: Can you spell "PRENUP"!!!

Myth: Teenagers are hormonal.
Busted: Evidence aliens breed with humans. 

Myth: To the men who like to win all the arguments.    
Busted: And touché' to the women who own stun guns.

Myth: Blondes have more fun...
Busted: ...then when they were brunettes or redheads?




Myth: "I can't really tell WHO your baby looks like?"
Busted: Who let the dogs out?  Who, who, who, who, who! 
         

Myth: Two heads are better than one.     
Busted: A head of lettuce, a head of cabbage, what, what, what?

Myth: "I have to work late every night this week, dear."
Busted: "Really, how would you like your cremation? Medium rare?" 

Myth: "I'll take out the garbage."   
Busted: The 12th of Never or when hell freezes over? 

Myth: Taking over the family business. 
Busted: Punishing it forward!