Mother's Day is coming up.
Now, it should be all about how great we think our moms' are, and how much we appreciate what they do. At least that is how I think the day should play out but in reality that is not how I approach the day of Mothers'.
Basically, each Mother's Day is a personal challenge on how good a gift I can find for my mom.
I don't like to brag (well maybe a little) but when it comes to my mom, I give some pretty phenomenal presents. Tapestries from Florence, mugs from Ireland, and margarita glasses from Mexico are just a few of my favorite gifts for my mom.
Unfortunately, I am hitting a wall on what to get her this year. From my previously stated presents, one can see that flowers and chocolate wont live up to the standards I set for myself. I usually have had my stroke of brilliance by now and know exactly what I want to get for my mom. I consider her my easiest person to shop for, which is why my lack of ingenious ideas is really irritating me.
I only have a few days left before the big day, perhaps I will just have to postpone giving her the gift until I can do it in person. This will give me both time for genius to strike and a valid excuse for its tardiness...
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Classic Tale Retold
Everyone knows the classic tale
A lovely girl finds the beauty in a beast
But a tale lesser known begets more truth
Not the beauty found in a beast
But the beast hiding beneath the beauty
Perfection flows from her fingertips
Sweet voice lulls you into a vulnerable state
Her eyes ensnare you into her embrace
Blinded by her outward radiance
Unable to see the monster inside
Ache to graze her flawless skin
Selling yourself to her piece by piece
Before you realize her heart is black
She has taken everything from you
This is nothing to her vicious soul
Pleasured by the sight of your suffering
Teasing you with the promise of love
She knows she is incapable but you dont
Think you are trading life for love
Instead you give your life for her laugh
When she tires of you shell throw you back
Where once a proud man stood
A broken, scared lonely boy will lay
She remains unscathed and moves on
Her next victim just around the corner
Knowing hell be as easy as the last
Even though she is a savage beast
Her beauty is a perfect disguise
The saddest part of this tale it seems
No one has a chance to defend
If you know what to do its too late
For you have already felt the wrath of her beauty
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Freedom
Binds us in our words
Free speech is rampant
Yet our words are censored
Say anything you please
Just make sure its politically correct
Throw out any profanity you want
But don't say "policeman"
That offends the feminists
Degrade your skin with racial slurs
But labeled racist if not that color
In this world of freedom
I can't help but feel trapped
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Frilly Men
Tanning Bed Bursts Into Flames With Man Inside
I can't decide which is more disturbing, the fact that a tanning bed caught fire or that there was a man in the tanning bed in the first place. I know that many men do it, but for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. I find it incredibly disturbing that men pamper themselves and put in substantial effort into making themselves "beautiful."
Where have all the manly men gone?
There is nothing wrong with taking care of yourself, and dressing nice to impress the ladies but guys today take it too far. Honestly, guys don't need to tan, wax, pluck, and style for hours on end; why subject yourselves to such things? A guy can throw on a suit and look like a million bucks. It's that easy, why complicate it?
I can't decide which is more disturbing, the fact that a tanning bed caught fire or that there was a man in the tanning bed in the first place. I know that many men do it, but for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. I find it incredibly disturbing that men pamper themselves and put in substantial effort into making themselves "beautiful."
Where have all the manly men gone?
There is nothing wrong with taking care of yourself, and dressing nice to impress the ladies but guys today take it too far. Honestly, guys don't need to tan, wax, pluck, and style for hours on end; why subject yourselves to such things? A guy can throw on a suit and look like a million bucks. It's that easy, why complicate it?
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Last Name
I should have probably started my blogging career explaining the name of my blog, but I know that most people that know me will have already figured it out. My first entry I shared with you was about the trials and tribulations of having a drunken and deadly first name, but my last name is another story.
First of all, I have googled myself on numerous occasions. I know that you have all done it, so do not begin to judge me. Everyone I know has done it, and they all have people who claim the same identity. I already had enough identity issues as it was, I must admit that I was a bit nervous the first time I put my name into that little box of answers. To my surprise, and immediate relief(I didn't breathe for a good two minutes, my browser was dreadfully slow), I am the only Amber Kasbon. Obviously, there is nothing unique about my first name (other than beer and dinosaurs) but my last name has brought me great joy. There are not any other Kasbon's, save the six people in my family that now claim the name as their own.
This in and of itself is fantastic, but it is not why I take such simple pleasure in telling people my name. I have an avid imagination so pretending to be a British spy is right up my alley, whenever I meet someone new I give them the classic line: the name's Bon, Kasbon. It makes me laugh out loud just writing it. Who doesn't want to be James Bond? Aside from the casual sex, drinking and intermittent torture sessions, he is fantastic. I am a sucker for accents, class, and stlye, which he has in spades. When I use my introductory line, I like to invision myself as a total kick-butt secret agent and even if no one else can see it, it makes me smile just the same. Besides if no one suspects me as a British secret agent, I suppose I'd be doing a pretty good job if I was one.
First of all, I have googled myself on numerous occasions. I know that you have all done it, so do not begin to judge me. Everyone I know has done it, and they all have people who claim the same identity. I already had enough identity issues as it was, I must admit that I was a bit nervous the first time I put my name into that little box of answers. To my surprise, and immediate relief(I didn't breathe for a good two minutes, my browser was dreadfully slow), I am the only Amber Kasbon. Obviously, there is nothing unique about my first name (other than beer and dinosaurs) but my last name has brought me great joy. There are not any other Kasbon's, save the six people in my family that now claim the name as their own.
This in and of itself is fantastic, but it is not why I take such simple pleasure in telling people my name. I have an avid imagination so pretending to be a British spy is right up my alley, whenever I meet someone new I give them the classic line: the name's Bon, Kasbon. It makes me laugh out loud just writing it. Who doesn't want to be James Bond? Aside from the casual sex, drinking and intermittent torture sessions, he is fantastic. I am a sucker for accents, class, and stlye, which he has in spades. When I use my introductory line, I like to invision myself as a total kick-butt secret agent and even if no one else can see it, it makes me smile just the same. Besides if no one suspects me as a British secret agent, I suppose I'd be doing a pretty good job if I was one.
What's in a Name?
I've always found my name to be a little on the strange side,
never sure if I fully appreciated it being bestowed upon me. For
years of my youth I was convinced that my parents had named
me after an alcoholic beverage.
I realize that Amber is not an uncommon name, in fact I know
at least three other people who seem to find favor in being named
so. However, I was haunted as a child when I would hear the beer
commercials boasting about the rich "Amber" color that their
product possessed. I was literally nervous to listen to the radio,
or watch television because I knew that inevitably, my name would
be bellowed through the speakers in association with that bewitching
brew.
Another factor in my mounting inner turmoil was that my brothers
were given biblical names, Matthew and Adam. I know it was not the
intention of my parents but it felt like salt in an open wound. Not only
was the bible devoid from my name but I also had the added bonus of
hearing it describe a personal favorite of rowdy drunks everywhere.
As a pseudo adult (I don't like admitting that I am one), I have come to terms with my first name. I know that my parents had no malicious intent when they named me Amber, I must say that the movie Jurassic Park did help to ease my pain and suffering. It was nice to know that amber did not only represent the color of beer but it could also aid in the mass murder of an island full of people by way of overgrown lizards. At least now I have grown into a playful enthusiasm about my name, seeing it makes me smile instead of cower in shame and humiliation.
Next installment I will touch on my last name, it is a less sensitive topic.
never sure if I fully appreciated it being bestowed upon me. For
years of my youth I was convinced that my parents had named
me after an alcoholic beverage.
I realize that Amber is not an uncommon name, in fact I know
at least three other people who seem to find favor in being named
so. However, I was haunted as a child when I would hear the beer
commercials boasting about the rich "Amber" color that their
product possessed. I was literally nervous to listen to the radio,
or watch television because I knew that inevitably, my name would
be bellowed through the speakers in association with that bewitching
brew.
Another factor in my mounting inner turmoil was that my brothers
were given biblical names, Matthew and Adam. I know it was not the
intention of my parents but it felt like salt in an open wound. Not only
was the bible devoid from my name but I also had the added bonus of
hearing it describe a personal favorite of rowdy drunks everywhere.
As a pseudo adult (I don't like admitting that I am one), I have come to terms with my first name. I know that my parents had no malicious intent when they named me Amber, I must say that the movie Jurassic Park did help to ease my pain and suffering. It was nice to know that amber did not only represent the color of beer but it could also aid in the mass murder of an island full of people by way of overgrown lizards. At least now I have grown into a playful enthusiasm about my name, seeing it makes me smile instead of cower in shame and humiliation.
Next installment I will touch on my last name, it is a less sensitive topic.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)