Saturday, May 31, 2003
Friday, May 30, 2003
The Tooth Strikes Back!
The damn dental band-aid fell out. I was hoping it was pig gristle or a toy surprise. It was not a Happy Meal. Who would have thought chopped up hot dog was such a violent tooth band – aid destroying food. I just though that even hot dog nutrients would be better then jam nutrients. They lied. Healthy food will not keep our teeth from falling out. Sweet, sugary jams are the answer. They make those puppies stick to the gums.
Wot a surprise, it rained again. It rains all the time. On the upside the tobacco farmers only have about half their crops planted. They may be forced out of the drug business.
While it was raining earlier I got to watch the cat chase the dog under the coffee table. Three Times. Either the dog is going shear off the fur on her back or the coffee table is going to fall apart. The table was free, it was never meant to be used as an emergency break.
Speaking of dogger. I took her for a walk earlier, after the rain finally stopped and I saw this guy getting out of his car. He asked how old dog is and asked what kind of guard dog she is. I told him she is scared of the cat, but that she possesses a great bark when she wants to. He said, “That’s the kind of dog you don’t want to make mad”. Okay. Obliviously he has never seen the 70-pound dog run in fear from the 19-pound cat.
She is the sworn enemy of her Kong toy though. She is in the process of decapitating it. I thought they were indestructible. I thought that was what I was paying for – a forever toy.
Daisy has also learned how to peal a tennis ball like a grape. She is very talented.
I actually worked at work again today. Imagine my surprise. Today I finished up the single page filing and put the filing for next time around in the aphabetizer. I also set up the Zombie to punch holes and alphabetize the three bins her office brought me this week. At some point they will learn to do that before I bounce the bins back to them. She has a lot of staring into space to do though and she needs that staring into space time. She could be helping me in the file room instead of staring into space, but what do I know. I mean at least she could learn computer solitaire or something. It’s unnerving.
There was a special guest star today in the building. I had a guy from the Attorney generals Medicaid fraud office come by to look at a file. He wants copies. He’ll be back tomorrow. When I met him in the hallway he asked how I knew it was he. I told him there are three men in the building and he isn’t one of them. He was also alert and responsive at 2:30 in the afternoon so that really helped him stand out.
This was the first full week of no new TV. FOX is running something about stupid people caught on tape that is not American Idol. It seems to feature home movies of people being, you guessed it, Stupid! FOX is so fair and balanced in its portrael of its viewers. It’s all about respect and balance and fairness.
What if the prez through a huge tax cut and you didn’t get any? If a gigantic tax cut gets made and no one gets anything, did it really happen? I would be willing to accept a bribe from shrub at this time. Oh that’s right. I don’t count! I don’t have kids! What was I thinking? And, I’m poor. The tax cut wasn’t about helping the people who actually need help it’s about helping the people who help Shrub. What ever was I thinking? Stupid Poor Person.
I remembered to feed the feral cat today. I even saw him yesterday. He meowed at me for being tardy with his kibble. Beasty.
Today thanks to the rain I was able to water my Happy Office Professionals Day plant. The plant seems to be more growy and less dead if I water it frequently. I have found that using the water fountain is not the most advisable course to follow for plant hydration. It makes the plant barf dirt into the tray and the water is too cold.
The garden is doing well. I have four new shoots coming up in the garlic and I found a dead slug in the carrots. The potato is still a no show.
The new flowers I planted are also not dead yet. I got them on sale because they were getting too leggy for the cute little plastic pot things they keep them in.
I re-poisoned everything a few days ago between deluges. I haven’t seen as much bug damage as I had been getting but its also raining a lot and that might be keeping the bugs at bay. Whatever works.
Maybe I’ll give the slugs a tax break for helping out Lowes in this difficult economy. God knows slugs need every break they can get.
The damn dental band-aid fell out. I was hoping it was pig gristle or a toy surprise. It was not a Happy Meal. Who would have thought chopped up hot dog was such a violent tooth band – aid destroying food. I just though that even hot dog nutrients would be better then jam nutrients. They lied. Healthy food will not keep our teeth from falling out. Sweet, sugary jams are the answer. They make those puppies stick to the gums.
Wot a surprise, it rained again. It rains all the time. On the upside the tobacco farmers only have about half their crops planted. They may be forced out of the drug business.
While it was raining earlier I got to watch the cat chase the dog under the coffee table. Three Times. Either the dog is going shear off the fur on her back or the coffee table is going to fall apart. The table was free, it was never meant to be used as an emergency break.
Speaking of dogger. I took her for a walk earlier, after the rain finally stopped and I saw this guy getting out of his car. He asked how old dog is and asked what kind of guard dog she is. I told him she is scared of the cat, but that she possesses a great bark when she wants to. He said, “That’s the kind of dog you don’t want to make mad”. Okay. Obliviously he has never seen the 70-pound dog run in fear from the 19-pound cat.
She is the sworn enemy of her Kong toy though. She is in the process of decapitating it. I thought they were indestructible. I thought that was what I was paying for – a forever toy.
Daisy has also learned how to peal a tennis ball like a grape. She is very talented.
I actually worked at work again today. Imagine my surprise. Today I finished up the single page filing and put the filing for next time around in the aphabetizer. I also set up the Zombie to punch holes and alphabetize the three bins her office brought me this week. At some point they will learn to do that before I bounce the bins back to them. She has a lot of staring into space to do though and she needs that staring into space time. She could be helping me in the file room instead of staring into space, but what do I know. I mean at least she could learn computer solitaire or something. It’s unnerving.
There was a special guest star today in the building. I had a guy from the Attorney generals Medicaid fraud office come by to look at a file. He wants copies. He’ll be back tomorrow. When I met him in the hallway he asked how I knew it was he. I told him there are three men in the building and he isn’t one of them. He was also alert and responsive at 2:30 in the afternoon so that really helped him stand out.
This was the first full week of no new TV. FOX is running something about stupid people caught on tape that is not American Idol. It seems to feature home movies of people being, you guessed it, Stupid! FOX is so fair and balanced in its portrael of its viewers. It’s all about respect and balance and fairness.
What if the prez through a huge tax cut and you didn’t get any? If a gigantic tax cut gets made and no one gets anything, did it really happen? I would be willing to accept a bribe from shrub at this time. Oh that’s right. I don’t count! I don’t have kids! What was I thinking? And, I’m poor. The tax cut wasn’t about helping the people who actually need help it’s about helping the people who help Shrub. What ever was I thinking? Stupid Poor Person.
I remembered to feed the feral cat today. I even saw him yesterday. He meowed at me for being tardy with his kibble. Beasty.
Today thanks to the rain I was able to water my Happy Office Professionals Day plant. The plant seems to be more growy and less dead if I water it frequently. I have found that using the water fountain is not the most advisable course to follow for plant hydration. It makes the plant barf dirt into the tray and the water is too cold.
The garden is doing well. I have four new shoots coming up in the garlic and I found a dead slug in the carrots. The potato is still a no show.
The new flowers I planted are also not dead yet. I got them on sale because they were getting too leggy for the cute little plastic pot things they keep them in.
I re-poisoned everything a few days ago between deluges. I haven’t seen as much bug damage as I had been getting but its also raining a lot and that might be keeping the bugs at bay. Whatever works.
Maybe I’ll give the slugs a tax break for helping out Lowes in this difficult economy. God knows slugs need every break they can get.
Thursday, May 29, 2003
The Tooth is Out There
Call Mulder! It’s a conspiracy.
It doesn’t cost this much to patch a tire, I could patch part of my roof, buy a cheap car or re - sod the back yard. I could almost pay my mortgage twice. I could fly somewhere first class. I could shop at Pottery Barn instead of Poverty Barn!
It’s a tooth. Not even a front tooth, somewhere where it would have to match. I would be willing to have a tooth that was an unpopular color or print - like a puke green car or pink aluminum siding.
And it’s so damn small! Little! It’s not like a new liver or replacement lungs or even a kidney. A damn tooth.
I’m putting a diamond ring in my mouth. A pendant, a tennis bracelet. To chew my food. I’m going to have to eat better quality food now. I mean if I’m going to have the Bionic Tooth in there I’m going to have to eat Real Food.
No more Ramon noodles or store brand spaghetti. The Bionic Tooth will have none of that plebian fare. I’m going to have to shop Designer Grocery Stores, Specialty Markets and Boutique Bakeries.
The dentist. My dentist. When I called this morning they said I would know the building because they had a Beaver with a Toothbrush out front.
It could be worse. I was imagining a gigantic plastic beaver with a huge toothbrush. It’s on the damn sign!
A great big grinning beaver. This does not lend the whole operation a veneer of professionalism.
When you are putting sharp impliments in my mouth and charging me for it. I want a veneer of professionalism. I also, don’t want Mickey Mouse in the room with me. I’m going to be under going very expensive dental procedures? I’m not looking for Disney Babies or even worse, being in what amounts to a ward. I want my own room.
I want to see many, many, many well maintained tanks of laughing gas. I want to see the walls papered with uplifting messages about how much we all hate pain and that pain and pain causers are evil and should die. I do not want to see toy cars and kiddy magazines.
I’m paying for this guys subscription to Highlights! and Seventeen. Sara Michelle Geller and Katie Holmes staring at me balefully does not make me feel happy. Keanu Reeves staring at me balefully would be better or if Doctor Beaver must subscribe to women’s magazines, how about Judy Dench or Serena Williams watching over me.
He did have a neat toy my dentist at home didn’t have. He had a teeny camera that sent pictures to a monitor so I could see what he was seeing. That was cool. It was not cool that this dentist had a very expensive blood pressure jobby and a pulse oximeter. I did not love his hygienist lecturing me on my blood pressure; if you can’t measure it yourself, don’t hector me on it. No one has a watch? And he needs a pulse ox machine? What the hell does he do there? This did nothing for my teeth grinding issue or my blood pressure issue.
That Life Support beeping sound is not conductive to calmness and mellow thoughts. Beep Beep You Gonna Die In the Chair Beep Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
He agreed with my initial diagnosis of Broken Tooth and showed me how broken it was. He let me see my other crown. He even pointed out an additional small cavity. He was getting a touch greedy at that point.
So after all this, he put some kind of dental band-aid on my tooth. Why can’t he just put a dental cast on my tooth and leave it at that? They make very butch casts now that you can get wet and everything. I don’t need a prosthetic tooth at all, really. I could just go back to see him every couple of weeks for a touch up. This works for me.
This would not work for Dr. Teeth. He wants the big bucks.
Sucks being him then. I don’t have the big bucks! I don’t even have the moderately sized bucks. I have little, tiny bucks. My money needs vitamins and extra iron just to make it to the end of the month. It is not healthy money. It’s sickly and under sized. It is not athletic money; no one picks it to be on their team. I think it wets the bed. It has asthma and spends a lot of time in its room with its imaginary friends: Retirement fund and Rainy Day Money. It talks to itself a lot.
Call Mulder! It’s a conspiracy.
It doesn’t cost this much to patch a tire, I could patch part of my roof, buy a cheap car or re - sod the back yard. I could almost pay my mortgage twice. I could fly somewhere first class. I could shop at Pottery Barn instead of Poverty Barn!
It’s a tooth. Not even a front tooth, somewhere where it would have to match. I would be willing to have a tooth that was an unpopular color or print - like a puke green car or pink aluminum siding.
And it’s so damn small! Little! It’s not like a new liver or replacement lungs or even a kidney. A damn tooth.
I’m putting a diamond ring in my mouth. A pendant, a tennis bracelet. To chew my food. I’m going to have to eat better quality food now. I mean if I’m going to have the Bionic Tooth in there I’m going to have to eat Real Food.
No more Ramon noodles or store brand spaghetti. The Bionic Tooth will have none of that plebian fare. I’m going to have to shop Designer Grocery Stores, Specialty Markets and Boutique Bakeries.
The dentist. My dentist. When I called this morning they said I would know the building because they had a Beaver with a Toothbrush out front.
It could be worse. I was imagining a gigantic plastic beaver with a huge toothbrush. It’s on the damn sign!
A great big grinning beaver. This does not lend the whole operation a veneer of professionalism.
When you are putting sharp impliments in my mouth and charging me for it. I want a veneer of professionalism. I also, don’t want Mickey Mouse in the room with me. I’m going to be under going very expensive dental procedures? I’m not looking for Disney Babies or even worse, being in what amounts to a ward. I want my own room.
I want to see many, many, many well maintained tanks of laughing gas. I want to see the walls papered with uplifting messages about how much we all hate pain and that pain and pain causers are evil and should die. I do not want to see toy cars and kiddy magazines.
I’m paying for this guys subscription to Highlights! and Seventeen. Sara Michelle Geller and Katie Holmes staring at me balefully does not make me feel happy. Keanu Reeves staring at me balefully would be better or if Doctor Beaver must subscribe to women’s magazines, how about Judy Dench or Serena Williams watching over me.
He did have a neat toy my dentist at home didn’t have. He had a teeny camera that sent pictures to a monitor so I could see what he was seeing. That was cool. It was not cool that this dentist had a very expensive blood pressure jobby and a pulse oximeter. I did not love his hygienist lecturing me on my blood pressure; if you can’t measure it yourself, don’t hector me on it. No one has a watch? And he needs a pulse ox machine? What the hell does he do there? This did nothing for my teeth grinding issue or my blood pressure issue.
That Life Support beeping sound is not conductive to calmness and mellow thoughts. Beep Beep You Gonna Die In the Chair Beep Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
He agreed with my initial diagnosis of Broken Tooth and showed me how broken it was. He let me see my other crown. He even pointed out an additional small cavity. He was getting a touch greedy at that point.
So after all this, he put some kind of dental band-aid on my tooth. Why can’t he just put a dental cast on my tooth and leave it at that? They make very butch casts now that you can get wet and everything. I don’t need a prosthetic tooth at all, really. I could just go back to see him every couple of weeks for a touch up. This works for me.
This would not work for Dr. Teeth. He wants the big bucks.
Sucks being him then. I don’t have the big bucks! I don’t even have the moderately sized bucks. I have little, tiny bucks. My money needs vitamins and extra iron just to make it to the end of the month. It is not healthy money. It’s sickly and under sized. It is not athletic money; no one picks it to be on their team. I think it wets the bed. It has asthma and spends a lot of time in its room with its imaginary friends: Retirement fund and Rainy Day Money. It talks to itself a lot.
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
Martha Rae, where are you!
I brwoke by twooth. My twooth. I brwoke it. Well, it broke. I was an innocent bystander. With a coke in my hand and a tootsie role in my pocket.
Actually it was pizza crust and a tooth that was looking for a way out. It’s happened before. Thank God I’m in the land of NASCAR, I’ll fit right in. I think I’ll go down to the flea market and bond with my people. We toothless lot. We’ll hang out together and trade tales of what it was like to chew our food. Sigh.
So far it doesn’t hurt, but I haven’t done anything to piss it off yet. Like eating or drinking or ironically at this point, brushing. I vote for just pulling the little bastard out. It wants to leave let it get the hell out.
But there’s that whole appearance issue. It is in the back but I’m sure its visible, or at least a huge hole would be visible. “Hi, I ain’t got no teeth, wanna date me?”
So the last time this happened, the time that was supposed to be the time this happened it cost big bucks, which was fine because I made moderately (for me) sized bucks and had few expenses so it was like a tight month. One. This time I’m looking down like tight life.
And, I brush, twice a day. I cut way down on my soda and I don’t eat that much candy anymore. I thought there was a problem on that side, but it didn’t look like a problem and I know what that problem looks like. It looked fine.
So now I am not fine. I am missing part of a tooth. I guess I should be grateful that the filling didn’t come with it because all the maximum strength ambasol in the world wouldn't fix that.
Most of the tooth is still there, I guess that’s a good sign. I don’t know where the missing part it but I can guess. Sucks to be me.
So tomorrow morning when I approach the den of the Mouth That Roars and ask her about her dentist, it’ll be fun. I know she sees a dentist frequently to keep her fangs in good working order. With my luck her dentist will be in west outer BFE. I asked Brosky about he and Alphagals D.D.S and their guy doesn’t use gas!
I need gas. I need to be really high or I am a very bad patient. And I am sure that a dentist will be thrilled to take on a new patient that needs care too. I can see it now
Hwi
May I help you?
I brwoke by twooth.
Yes.
I need to swee the doctwor.
Yes.
When can I swee the doctwor?
Are you an existing patient?
No. I brwoke by twooth and I need to swee the doctwor
Yes. I’m sorry, we aren’t taking new patients right now.
I BRWOKE BY TWOOTH!
Yes.
Can By swee the Doctwor? It’s an emwergency
Yes. Do you have an appointment?
Then I kill her over the phone and I go to jail and I get my tooth fixed.
I was really good about the whole mouth care thing too. This just sucks and you the state doesn’t consider our mouths to be important. If I wanted insurance I would have to pay $40 a month. I can’t afford $40 a month. If I’m incredibly lucky, whatever dentist I find will let me pay on installments that I won’t be to afford every month.
This just sucks. I need the tooth fairy to come from where ever she hangs out and drop some tooth fairy money on me. You know she’s rolling in it. Probably brushing with it.
I brwoke by twooth. My twooth. I brwoke it. Well, it broke. I was an innocent bystander. With a coke in my hand and a tootsie role in my pocket.
Actually it was pizza crust and a tooth that was looking for a way out. It’s happened before. Thank God I’m in the land of NASCAR, I’ll fit right in. I think I’ll go down to the flea market and bond with my people. We toothless lot. We’ll hang out together and trade tales of what it was like to chew our food. Sigh.
So far it doesn’t hurt, but I haven’t done anything to piss it off yet. Like eating or drinking or ironically at this point, brushing. I vote for just pulling the little bastard out. It wants to leave let it get the hell out.
But there’s that whole appearance issue. It is in the back but I’m sure its visible, or at least a huge hole would be visible. “Hi, I ain’t got no teeth, wanna date me?”
So the last time this happened, the time that was supposed to be the time this happened it cost big bucks, which was fine because I made moderately (for me) sized bucks and had few expenses so it was like a tight month. One. This time I’m looking down like tight life.
And, I brush, twice a day. I cut way down on my soda and I don’t eat that much candy anymore. I thought there was a problem on that side, but it didn’t look like a problem and I know what that problem looks like. It looked fine.
So now I am not fine. I am missing part of a tooth. I guess I should be grateful that the filling didn’t come with it because all the maximum strength ambasol in the world wouldn't fix that.
Most of the tooth is still there, I guess that’s a good sign. I don’t know where the missing part it but I can guess. Sucks to be me.
So tomorrow morning when I approach the den of the Mouth That Roars and ask her about her dentist, it’ll be fun. I know she sees a dentist frequently to keep her fangs in good working order. With my luck her dentist will be in west outer BFE. I asked Brosky about he and Alphagals D.D.S and their guy doesn’t use gas!
I need gas. I need to be really high or I am a very bad patient. And I am sure that a dentist will be thrilled to take on a new patient that needs care too. I can see it now
Hwi
May I help you?
I brwoke by twooth.
Yes.
I need to swee the doctwor.
Yes.
When can I swee the doctwor?
Are you an existing patient?
No. I brwoke by twooth and I need to swee the doctwor
Yes. I’m sorry, we aren’t taking new patients right now.
I BRWOKE BY TWOOTH!
Yes.
Can By swee the Doctwor? It’s an emwergency
Yes. Do you have an appointment?
Then I kill her over the phone and I go to jail and I get my tooth fixed.
I was really good about the whole mouth care thing too. This just sucks and you the state doesn’t consider our mouths to be important. If I wanted insurance I would have to pay $40 a month. I can’t afford $40 a month. If I’m incredibly lucky, whatever dentist I find will let me pay on installments that I won’t be to afford every month.
This just sucks. I need the tooth fairy to come from where ever she hangs out and drop some tooth fairy money on me. You know she’s rolling in it. Probably brushing with it.
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
Listening in
Over heard through the kitchen window
“Hey Romeo, where you at? My Daddy said I can’t see you no more”
The sound of shrubby rustling
“Hey Romeo, where you at? My Daddy said I can’t see you no more”
“Okay”
“Romeo, say your line!”
Summer Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet in the Hood.
They went back to climbing on the fence, but for a moment it was the best summer stock I’ve ever seen.
Over heard in the meat isle.
“Those are way over priced”
“I’ve never seen pigs ears that expensive”
“Well, that’s why they’re just laying there”
You would think The Meat People could do better then that.
Over heard while gardening
“Uh, yeah. He ran, he ran, (unintelligible, possibly stuff that I really, really, really don’t want to know.) no he got away (unintelligible, the cop shows are just like this!) Um. Yep, they got him. (Unintelligible, even more stuff I’m glad I couldn’t hear) We bailed Brian out, no, we bailed Brian out”
At the top of his damn lungs too, car window wide open. Who the hell does he think he is? And please God let him totally ignore me.
I got Romeo and Juliet, I got The Frugal Gourmet and I got Law and Order. I don’t need TV reruns this summer. I’ll just hang out in the yard. Way more drama here.
Speaking of Drama.
I saw The Matrix sequel. Upgrades Indeed!
Way kewl.
So what, that while in the Matrix, Neo does look a bit like the young cool priest they probably picture on the So You Want To Be A Priest hand outs and Trinity does look a little like a fresh oil spill in $300 shades and Morpheus, well, many cows died for his size XL threads.
Why is it that all post-apocalyptic societies have to look like the back of the cargo van after long road trip with Areosmith? Do only the really thread bare, yet well cut, worn out clothing survive? Is it necessary that they all have Statement Hair? Why is everyone always 1) Young and 2) despite, all the hardships, Hot? And what few older people they have, why are they all dressed like Whoopee Goldberg in her Star Trek phase?
It was a cool movie though and you really cannot go wrong with Canoe, now with even fewer lines! Guiding the way.
I saw some Star Warzian aspects in this one that I didn’t see when I rewatched the Just Matrix video the other day. I think it had to do with the space ships. Space? Where? Are they in Space? What? And of course the lone hero, The One the prophesied leader, the one man killing machine, the one who will set us free - but not before he blows up the death matrix and kills Darth Smith while coming to terms with his father issues and falling into long, deep holes that have absolutely nothing to do with sex. At All.
Speaking of the Lone Hero
I mowed the front lawn again, despite the rain. The back yard is again a wild life preserve as it is so shady back there most of the time that it takes weeks to dry out enough the take the mower back there and while I can’t mow because it’s too wet, the mosquitoes are more then happy to take up shop there. I also had to buy new marigolds to replace the slug eaten ones. While I was digging through the potato garden I found one of the potatoes, all soft and rotten – y with out roots or off shoots. I think this is a bad sign for Project Potato. I know there is at least one other runner in the game but I couldn’t find it.
Speaking of the mowing. The drug dealers have a Fruited Mulberry in my driveway. I raked about five pounds of them into the street in a beautify the driveway project and I noticed when I went to visit the back yard that they have one in my back yard too. How do I know they are ripe? And if they are ripe, do people eat them? Can my dog eat them? Other then their very nice smell do Mulberries do anything else for the world at large?
Go to “Contact Me” and let me know.
Over heard through the kitchen window
“Hey Romeo, where you at? My Daddy said I can’t see you no more”
The sound of shrubby rustling
“Hey Romeo, where you at? My Daddy said I can’t see you no more”
“Okay”
“Romeo, say your line!”
Summer Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet in the Hood.
They went back to climbing on the fence, but for a moment it was the best summer stock I’ve ever seen.
Over heard in the meat isle.
“Those are way over priced”
“I’ve never seen pigs ears that expensive”
“Well, that’s why they’re just laying there”
You would think The Meat People could do better then that.
Over heard while gardening
“Uh, yeah. He ran, he ran, (unintelligible, possibly stuff that I really, really, really don’t want to know.) no he got away (unintelligible, the cop shows are just like this!) Um. Yep, they got him. (Unintelligible, even more stuff I’m glad I couldn’t hear) We bailed Brian out, no, we bailed Brian out”
At the top of his damn lungs too, car window wide open. Who the hell does he think he is? And please God let him totally ignore me.
I got Romeo and Juliet, I got The Frugal Gourmet and I got Law and Order. I don’t need TV reruns this summer. I’ll just hang out in the yard. Way more drama here.
Speaking of Drama.
I saw The Matrix sequel. Upgrades Indeed!
Way kewl.
So what, that while in the Matrix, Neo does look a bit like the young cool priest they probably picture on the So You Want To Be A Priest hand outs and Trinity does look a little like a fresh oil spill in $300 shades and Morpheus, well, many cows died for his size XL threads.
Why is it that all post-apocalyptic societies have to look like the back of the cargo van after long road trip with Areosmith? Do only the really thread bare, yet well cut, worn out clothing survive? Is it necessary that they all have Statement Hair? Why is everyone always 1) Young and 2) despite, all the hardships, Hot? And what few older people they have, why are they all dressed like Whoopee Goldberg in her Star Trek phase?
It was a cool movie though and you really cannot go wrong with Canoe, now with even fewer lines! Guiding the way.
I saw some Star Warzian aspects in this one that I didn’t see when I rewatched the Just Matrix video the other day. I think it had to do with the space ships. Space? Where? Are they in Space? What? And of course the lone hero, The One the prophesied leader, the one man killing machine, the one who will set us free - but not before he blows up the death matrix and kills Darth Smith while coming to terms with his father issues and falling into long, deep holes that have absolutely nothing to do with sex. At All.
Speaking of the Lone Hero
I mowed the front lawn again, despite the rain. The back yard is again a wild life preserve as it is so shady back there most of the time that it takes weeks to dry out enough the take the mower back there and while I can’t mow because it’s too wet, the mosquitoes are more then happy to take up shop there. I also had to buy new marigolds to replace the slug eaten ones. While I was digging through the potato garden I found one of the potatoes, all soft and rotten – y with out roots or off shoots. I think this is a bad sign for Project Potato. I know there is at least one other runner in the game but I couldn’t find it.
Speaking of the mowing. The drug dealers have a Fruited Mulberry in my driveway. I raked about five pounds of them into the street in a beautify the driveway project and I noticed when I went to visit the back yard that they have one in my back yard too. How do I know they are ripe? And if they are ripe, do people eat them? Can my dog eat them? Other then their very nice smell do Mulberries do anything else for the world at large?
Go to “Contact Me” and let me know.
Monday, May 26, 2003
Sunday, May 25, 2003
Friday, May 23, 2003
Crazy Train of thought
One of my coworkers retired yesterday. I have friends old enough to retire. And this wasn't even her first retirement go round. She was a repeat offender.
Instead of getting loaded, we ate candy. I have a bowl of Tootsie Rolls on my desk and I am about three sheets to the wind, blood sugar wise. This morning I was running around like a crazy person getting all this work done. Imagine, working at work. Wow. I must be drunk.
Now. I'm tired. Very tired. I also had a big lunch so the sugar blues are hitting me hard. My train of thought may very well go off the tracks.
With my friend gone I have been awarded custody of the feral cats outside. Actually I think it is a feral cat outside. I think the cat doesn’t even eat there often. She had been running a Kibble Kitchen for homeless possums and raccoons. The cat just whores around the door so we will put food out. It's a total bait and switch. You think you're helping out fluffy baby kitties and really its Ranger Rick and that faker Polly Possum.
So now I’m running the Kibble Kitchen, it's only a M-W-F gig, but I know I'm going to forget. I always forget. It would help if the little buggers would make themselves more visible instead of lurking about where we can't see them. It would help if they would hold up little signs or something like the cats from Sylvia.
Back in the day I fed the homeless cats that lived around my apartment at school. Lot's of kitties. I got to where I couldn't even tolerate drawings of cats because all I could think of the herd that gathered at my door everyday taking food and giving me ring worm. Lovely.
It was a tough lesson but I had to get all hard hearted with them too. If you live in the parking lot you are going to die in the parking lot and they did. Only the cute die young. I got all broken up the first time I found a squished kitten. I cried and everything. Actually I got weepy then I got mad because I thought at first it was this mean spirited one and I was kind of glad the little bastard got nailed, then I got all weepy again because it was one that I liked.
That wasn't going to work because the whole live and die in the lot thing doesn't allow for a great deal of soft heartedness or a lot time for wasted tears. I couldn’t waste time on the parking pancakes when I could be really sad about the ones that drowned in the rain. I would have been crying all the time. After a while I found that Mama Kitty could make new ones frequently enough that I really didn’t have time to mourn the old ones.
I decided it was nature way of keeping the really dumb ones out of the breeding population. Not all of them did that way, actually very few of them died in any way. The cats were healthy. There weren’t any parvo or rabies deaths while I was there. I do think Mama Kitty may have had the clap, but that was just a guess.
There was a real Cat Lady and she trapped and spayed a lot of them and kept enough of them inoculated that it kept down the rate of disease.
There was a vote on campus one time to see what should be done about the proliferation of feral cats on campus. This was the same day they had the Student Council, er, Student Government Elections. The cats got 700 votes the Student Government got about 250. I don't remember the outcome of either referendum. I think the cats won though as they offered real solutions to the parking problem on campus.
Anyway. All aboard!
It's raining. Again. I put my Happy Office Professionals Day plant outside to get some fresh air and rain water. It will probably end up with slugs. I guess I should go rescue it before I leave because I will forget it.
Oh. I've been counseled that I should change "Bitchwhoresluts" stage name. Her new name will be "Good and Plenty". I can say it is because she is so sweet.
Man, someone just came in and wanted something. What is this working at work? It’s a head scratcher for sure.
Sugar should be listed as a controlled substance. The first time in weeks I even see The Mouth That Roars and I give her an excuse to Roar. Now she's going to remember that I'm back here. Damn. Note to self - Always Look At The File Before You Give It Out. Check To Make Sure It Is The Right Folder. Dumb Ass.
Today is the first day of the rest of the summer. All my shows have had their big end of year blow out and there will be no more new eps until October. Monk will be back in June so I'm looking kind of forward to that and I think Lucky still has a few episodes. But it's rerun city for a long time.
It's ironic. Before I had the house and the dogger I would come home from work and watch these Home Improvement and Animal Emergency shows. Now when I get home I'm trying to improve my home and keep the animals away from emergencies and don't have time to watch the Shows.
What else?
Cheap dog toys are cheap. You get what you pay for. Ask yourself why they cost so much at the pet store before you throw away money on the cheap toys from the dollar store. What you aren’t paying for you aren’t getting.
I’ll see you guys again on Tuesday.
One of my coworkers retired yesterday. I have friends old enough to retire. And this wasn't even her first retirement go round. She was a repeat offender.
Instead of getting loaded, we ate candy. I have a bowl of Tootsie Rolls on my desk and I am about three sheets to the wind, blood sugar wise. This morning I was running around like a crazy person getting all this work done. Imagine, working at work. Wow. I must be drunk.
Now. I'm tired. Very tired. I also had a big lunch so the sugar blues are hitting me hard. My train of thought may very well go off the tracks.
With my friend gone I have been awarded custody of the feral cats outside. Actually I think it is a feral cat outside. I think the cat doesn’t even eat there often. She had been running a Kibble Kitchen for homeless possums and raccoons. The cat just whores around the door so we will put food out. It's a total bait and switch. You think you're helping out fluffy baby kitties and really its Ranger Rick and that faker Polly Possum.
So now I’m running the Kibble Kitchen, it's only a M-W-F gig, but I know I'm going to forget. I always forget. It would help if the little buggers would make themselves more visible instead of lurking about where we can't see them. It would help if they would hold up little signs or something like the cats from Sylvia.
Back in the day I fed the homeless cats that lived around my apartment at school. Lot's of kitties. I got to where I couldn't even tolerate drawings of cats because all I could think of the herd that gathered at my door everyday taking food and giving me ring worm. Lovely.
It was a tough lesson but I had to get all hard hearted with them too. If you live in the parking lot you are going to die in the parking lot and they did. Only the cute die young. I got all broken up the first time I found a squished kitten. I cried and everything. Actually I got weepy then I got mad because I thought at first it was this mean spirited one and I was kind of glad the little bastard got nailed, then I got all weepy again because it was one that I liked.
That wasn't going to work because the whole live and die in the lot thing doesn't allow for a great deal of soft heartedness or a lot time for wasted tears. I couldn’t waste time on the parking pancakes when I could be really sad about the ones that drowned in the rain. I would have been crying all the time. After a while I found that Mama Kitty could make new ones frequently enough that I really didn’t have time to mourn the old ones.
I decided it was nature way of keeping the really dumb ones out of the breeding population. Not all of them did that way, actually very few of them died in any way. The cats were healthy. There weren’t any parvo or rabies deaths while I was there. I do think Mama Kitty may have had the clap, but that was just a guess.
There was a real Cat Lady and she trapped and spayed a lot of them and kept enough of them inoculated that it kept down the rate of disease.
There was a vote on campus one time to see what should be done about the proliferation of feral cats on campus. This was the same day they had the Student Council, er, Student Government Elections. The cats got 700 votes the Student Government got about 250. I don't remember the outcome of either referendum. I think the cats won though as they offered real solutions to the parking problem on campus.
Anyway. All aboard!
It's raining. Again. I put my Happy Office Professionals Day plant outside to get some fresh air and rain water. It will probably end up with slugs. I guess I should go rescue it before I leave because I will forget it.
Oh. I've been counseled that I should change "Bitchwhoresluts" stage name. Her new name will be "Good and Plenty". I can say it is because she is so sweet.
Man, someone just came in and wanted something. What is this working at work? It’s a head scratcher for sure.
Sugar should be listed as a controlled substance. The first time in weeks I even see The Mouth That Roars and I give her an excuse to Roar. Now she's going to remember that I'm back here. Damn. Note to self - Always Look At The File Before You Give It Out. Check To Make Sure It Is The Right Folder. Dumb Ass.
Today is the first day of the rest of the summer. All my shows have had their big end of year blow out and there will be no more new eps until October. Monk will be back in June so I'm looking kind of forward to that and I think Lucky still has a few episodes. But it's rerun city for a long time.
It's ironic. Before I had the house and the dogger I would come home from work and watch these Home Improvement and Animal Emergency shows. Now when I get home I'm trying to improve my home and keep the animals away from emergencies and don't have time to watch the Shows.
What else?
Cheap dog toys are cheap. You get what you pay for. Ask yourself why they cost so much at the pet store before you throw away money on the cheap toys from the dollar store. What you aren’t paying for you aren’t getting.
I’ll see you guys again on Tuesday.
Thursday, May 22, 2003
Them and Us
I finally had to sit down and get it done. Put my nose to the grindstone or magazine stock as it was and just do it. You go through the trouble to setting priorities for yourself and you work to maintain them and then this happens.
I hate it when I get lazy like this. I am pathetic.
I have two weeks of Entertainment Weekly and the newest Us just sitting around, unread. I blame sweeps for my lack of nose to the magazine stock work ethic.
If I didn’t have to watch Carter and Luka (pant, pant) sweating in the Congo, or David Caruso et al running around Miami not sweating, or Law and Order: CI or Buffy sigh or Angel getting all Wolf Ram and Hearty. I could have skipped NYPD Blue or Lucky or approximately 432 hours per week of Law and Order: Original Recipe.
Total loser.
So while I was neck deep in all the bathos I could handle, I could have read a magazine during the commercial breaks instead of selfishly using that time to take the dogger out. Bad Subscriber.
And since the EW I read was old, all the gossip was dated! The Horror of old news. Even worse, I think Britney has had the same hair color for like two weeks. She must be growing up. Xtina has also dumped the peroxide. She makes Betty Boop look down right wholesome. Or at least flat chested.
Us, they had a whole story on who is no longer banging who in Hollywood. Cam Diaz is on the market! Jared Leto is a free man! And shockingly, Jho and the only Strait Male Dancer in America broke up. I’m sure Ben Hackleck is glad to see that.
That the dumb kid from That 70s Show and his insipid blond girlfriend broke up. That is so old news. I read that weeks ago in EW. I think even Zap2it.com had it before they did and they have no game at all.
They bravely went back in history to revisit Julia Roberts and Keifer Sutherland! Most of their readers weren’t even reading Teen Beat back in 1991! They are so Cutting Edge, you could cut your finger!
There was also a shocking feature on the shocking lives of the finalists on American Idiot, er, Idol. Wow. The little red headed boy lives in my town. In yesterdays Life Style section in the paper was dubbed Clay Style. 11-year-old girls everywhere think they are wetting their pants over him. Someday they will be very ashamed of that. I’m sure they will all lie and say their first celeb crush was an actual celeb, probably on one of the 7th Heaven trolls or one of the kids from Malcolm In The Middle. The other cast are not from here and I don’t know who they are. I plan on keeping it that way. I also plan on not knowing who the little boy is either. It may take work.
Entertainment Weekly is all about The Matrix Part Again, so soon? I’m going to see it this weekend so I had to read it carefully to avoid learning anything about it. I don’t remember anything from the first one except that Bill or Ted was in it and he was hot. There are other people in it who dress like Monks with a leather fetish and SMBD issues. I think they are the good guys.
They have a sizable feature on upcoming bands. I feel really old now. I think I’ll find a Dick Van Dyke vehicle and pop open an Ensure. The bands seem to be made up of geeks with out showers or tat covered morons playing at being the Ramon’s. And Failing. And a couple of chickies who want to be either the next Jewel or a younger less skanky Britney/Christina clone. I made myself feel better by knowing who Amy Sedaris is. She is also from my town but so far I have not seen Amy Style in the paper. We suck.
To honor Mothers day the magazine proudly printed Paparazzi shots of various Hollywood players hanging with their Moms. Did you know that Penelope Cruz wasn’t hatched? And that Lolly Pop Head Callista Flockharts bought child does appears to out weigh her? Does the Atkins diet make toddler food? I bet she knows. Ann Heche was also pictured.
I have to start on my second Entertainment Weekly before I can watch Law and Order – Original Recipe big 300th episode airs. It is all about priorities.
I finally had to sit down and get it done. Put my nose to the grindstone or magazine stock as it was and just do it. You go through the trouble to setting priorities for yourself and you work to maintain them and then this happens.
I hate it when I get lazy like this. I am pathetic.
I have two weeks of Entertainment Weekly and the newest Us just sitting around, unread. I blame sweeps for my lack of nose to the magazine stock work ethic.
If I didn’t have to watch Carter and Luka (pant, pant) sweating in the Congo, or David Caruso et al running around Miami not sweating, or Law and Order: CI or Buffy sigh or Angel getting all Wolf Ram and Hearty. I could have skipped NYPD Blue or Lucky or approximately 432 hours per week of Law and Order: Original Recipe.
Total loser.
So while I was neck deep in all the bathos I could handle, I could have read a magazine during the commercial breaks instead of selfishly using that time to take the dogger out. Bad Subscriber.
And since the EW I read was old, all the gossip was dated! The Horror of old news. Even worse, I think Britney has had the same hair color for like two weeks. She must be growing up. Xtina has also dumped the peroxide. She makes Betty Boop look down right wholesome. Or at least flat chested.
Us, they had a whole story on who is no longer banging who in Hollywood. Cam Diaz is on the market! Jared Leto is a free man! And shockingly, Jho and the only Strait Male Dancer in America broke up. I’m sure Ben Hackleck is glad to see that.
That the dumb kid from That 70s Show and his insipid blond girlfriend broke up. That is so old news. I read that weeks ago in EW. I think even Zap2it.com had it before they did and they have no game at all.
They bravely went back in history to revisit Julia Roberts and Keifer Sutherland! Most of their readers weren’t even reading Teen Beat back in 1991! They are so Cutting Edge, you could cut your finger!
There was also a shocking feature on the shocking lives of the finalists on American Idiot, er, Idol. Wow. The little red headed boy lives in my town. In yesterdays Life Style section in the paper was dubbed Clay Style. 11-year-old girls everywhere think they are wetting their pants over him. Someday they will be very ashamed of that. I’m sure they will all lie and say their first celeb crush was an actual celeb, probably on one of the 7th Heaven trolls or one of the kids from Malcolm In The Middle. The other cast are not from here and I don’t know who they are. I plan on keeping it that way. I also plan on not knowing who the little boy is either. It may take work.
Entertainment Weekly is all about The Matrix Part Again, so soon? I’m going to see it this weekend so I had to read it carefully to avoid learning anything about it. I don’t remember anything from the first one except that Bill or Ted was in it and he was hot. There are other people in it who dress like Monks with a leather fetish and SMBD issues. I think they are the good guys.
They have a sizable feature on upcoming bands. I feel really old now. I think I’ll find a Dick Van Dyke vehicle and pop open an Ensure. The bands seem to be made up of geeks with out showers or tat covered morons playing at being the Ramon’s. And Failing. And a couple of chickies who want to be either the next Jewel or a younger less skanky Britney/Christina clone. I made myself feel better by knowing who Amy Sedaris is. She is also from my town but so far I have not seen Amy Style in the paper. We suck.
To honor Mothers day the magazine proudly printed Paparazzi shots of various Hollywood players hanging with their Moms. Did you know that Penelope Cruz wasn’t hatched? And that Lolly Pop Head Callista Flockharts bought child does appears to out weigh her? Does the Atkins diet make toddler food? I bet she knows. Ann Heche was also pictured.
I have to start on my second Entertainment Weekly before I can watch Law and Order – Original Recipe big 300th episode airs. It is all about priorities.
Wednesday, May 21, 2003
Bye, Bye, Buffy
That wet clacking sound you hear is the thousands of online Buffy fans typing their little bereft hearts out.
Buffy The Vampire Slayer has left the building . I was something of a fan come lately. I joined the Buffy train in the fourth season. My first episode was I believe, The Freshman.
I felt her pain, I too, suffered the heartbreak of a soul sucking demon roommate. Buffy got off easy in comparison as she got to send the soul sucker back to hell, I had to share space with the wack job for the whole semester.
Buffy got to live with her best friend. I got the seven draws. The soul sucker was my second roommate that semester. I lived through in the three years I was dorm bound with
Greeky – Moved out with out telling me one week into the semester and left me with SSD.
Soulsucky – Acutely mentally ill. Paranoid, OCD, stalker, and PMS related mood swings that would put Peter Banner to shame. Her suicide atempt was an opera staged by a daycare class. Did you know that if you hold your breath under the covers that while you may eventually pass out, you would not die? She got mad at me because I didn’t realize that she tried to kill herself. I thought putting her in the shower, washing her sheets and putting her back in bed was sufficient attention to her drama. Eventually she got into cleanliness to the point that she caused herself a nasty infection. I won’t go into the whole unplugging the phone because I got more phone calls then she did, rolling up the carpet because it touched the door, carving a line on our shared desk so my stuff wouldn’t touch hers or waking me up at 2 am with her radio because she came back to the room and found me watching TV while her favorite radio show was on. She also locked me out of the room 16 times. One could never tell of she had gone down the hall to the bathroom or had left town for the weekend. I hope she ended up puffy.
Smelly - Enough curry in your diet and you are your own scented candle.
The next few went very fast. I had moved to a new dorm and right before the semester started they discovered Asbestos.
At the holding dorm I had the best roommate ever. She spoke no English and worked all the time. I was in heaven. I never had to see her or make small talk. Good Times.
New Dorm.
Tempy – Out so fast I never knew her name.
Slutty – Dated a rugby team.
Thiefy – “Borrowed” my stuff while I wasn’t in the room, Stole. Potato, Patato.
Cindy – The only room mate the last an entire school year. The only room mate that I knew both her first and last name, the only roommate who went to bed in full make up and hair spray every night.
The fans are not just keening and wailing over the loss of an icon. They are mourning something that has provided them with an outlet for their creativity, their opinions and their capacity for rationilization.
They are losing their community, their friends, cyber or otherwise. They are worried they are going to lose an aspect of themselves. You can be the most unpopular kid at school but still be Scooby1 online and have a whole world of friends, who want to talk to you, respect your opinions and knowledge base and think you are funny/smart/clever. There are huge communities out there dedicated to aspects of the minutia of the Buffyverse. There isn’t a character too small not to have a least one web page or mailing list dedicated to it. No episode so wretched that it hasn’t been ret coned or fanwanked into sensibility.
We know all The Scoobys, these “people”. We know where they live, where they work, where they play and who they sleep with. Every event minor or earth shaking in their lives is celebrated or mourned with passion. We love them.
The web sites will stop updating, the mailing lists will get fewer and fewer posts to them…
Life sucked for Buffy. She not only had the weight of the safety of the world on her shoulders, she also carried weight of the banner of Girl Power and it’s attendant demons.She made Dark Angel, Alias, and all the other size 2, 98 pound, 19 year old crime fighters possible and probable and profitable, with no Buffy there never would have been a Syd.
Not only did she have to kill demons and stereotypes, she had to do it in halter-tops and leather jeans while dancing backwards in strappy sandles.
WaaaaaaaaahhSpike!!!wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!Tapsnifftapsniftashiffwhimper What are we going to do now?
That wet clacking sound you hear is the thousands of online Buffy fans typing their little bereft hearts out.
Buffy The Vampire Slayer has left the building . I was something of a fan come lately. I joined the Buffy train in the fourth season. My first episode was I believe, The Freshman.
I felt her pain, I too, suffered the heartbreak of a soul sucking demon roommate. Buffy got off easy in comparison as she got to send the soul sucker back to hell, I had to share space with the wack job for the whole semester.
Buffy got to live with her best friend. I got the seven draws. The soul sucker was my second roommate that semester. I lived through in the three years I was dorm bound with
Greeky – Moved out with out telling me one week into the semester and left me with SSD.
Soulsucky – Acutely mentally ill. Paranoid, OCD, stalker, and PMS related mood swings that would put Peter Banner to shame. Her suicide atempt was an opera staged by a daycare class. Did you know that if you hold your breath under the covers that while you may eventually pass out, you would not die? She got mad at me because I didn’t realize that she tried to kill herself. I thought putting her in the shower, washing her sheets and putting her back in bed was sufficient attention to her drama. Eventually she got into cleanliness to the point that she caused herself a nasty infection. I won’t go into the whole unplugging the phone because I got more phone calls then she did, rolling up the carpet because it touched the door, carving a line on our shared desk so my stuff wouldn’t touch hers or waking me up at 2 am with her radio because she came back to the room and found me watching TV while her favorite radio show was on. She also locked me out of the room 16 times. One could never tell of she had gone down the hall to the bathroom or had left town for the weekend. I hope she ended up puffy.
Smelly - Enough curry in your diet and you are your own scented candle.
The next few went very fast. I had moved to a new dorm and right before the semester started they discovered Asbestos.
At the holding dorm I had the best roommate ever. She spoke no English and worked all the time. I was in heaven. I never had to see her or make small talk. Good Times.
New Dorm.
Tempy – Out so fast I never knew her name.
Slutty – Dated a rugby team.
Thiefy – “Borrowed” my stuff while I wasn’t in the room, Stole. Potato, Patato.
Cindy – The only room mate the last an entire school year. The only room mate that I knew both her first and last name, the only roommate who went to bed in full make up and hair spray every night.
The fans are not just keening and wailing over the loss of an icon. They are mourning something that has provided them with an outlet for their creativity, their opinions and their capacity for rationilization.
They are losing their community, their friends, cyber or otherwise. They are worried they are going to lose an aspect of themselves. You can be the most unpopular kid at school but still be Scooby1 online and have a whole world of friends, who want to talk to you, respect your opinions and knowledge base and think you are funny/smart/clever. There are huge communities out there dedicated to aspects of the minutia of the Buffyverse. There isn’t a character too small not to have a least one web page or mailing list dedicated to it. No episode so wretched that it hasn’t been ret coned or fanwanked into sensibility.
We know all The Scoobys, these “people”. We know where they live, where they work, where they play and who they sleep with. Every event minor or earth shaking in their lives is celebrated or mourned with passion. We love them.
The web sites will stop updating, the mailing lists will get fewer and fewer posts to them…
Life sucked for Buffy. She not only had the weight of the safety of the world on her shoulders, she also carried weight of the banner of Girl Power and it’s attendant demons.She made Dark Angel, Alias, and all the other size 2, 98 pound, 19 year old crime fighters possible and probable and profitable, with no Buffy there never would have been a Syd.
Not only did she have to kill demons and stereotypes, she had to do it in halter-tops and leather jeans while dancing backwards in strappy sandles.
WaaaaaaaaahhSpike!!!wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!Tapsnifftapsniftashiffwhimper What are we going to do now?
Tuesday, May 20, 2003
Die Bug Scum
My flowers were very pretty. Past tense. In the past, of historical note, back in the day, antique.
Something ate them. Chewed the leaves, gobbled the flowers, snacked on the roots. Sucked the life right out of them.
Slug Bastards.
Slugs. In my plants. Near my front door. Slugging up my stairs, slugging up to my doorstep. Within slug sliming distance of my body parts.
Needless to say. This means war. I bought Weapons of Slug Destruction. Slug bait. Little tiny Slug Traps. Slug motels. Those bastards killed Mary Marigold! Damn it! And her sister flower Susan and little Timmy Flower. Timmy was just a sprout; he never even had a chance to bloom! Sob.
The slugs must go. Now.
Lowes has an entire section devoted to Chemical Weapons. There are millions of bugs and not every weapon works on every bug. You must buy the right one. Bring the wrong one home and the little bastards will do the backstroke through it. Laughing. At You.
Numerous plant experts told me that my potted plants were being eaten by slugs, counseled me to score Slug Bait. So slug bait was purchased. I took the dogger for a walk, ate dinner, watched a little Law and Order and psyched myself for the Big Event.
Slug bait looks like fish food. Slug chow. Eat up buddies. The Nice Lady is here and she is handing out candy. Ummmm, nummy treats! Tasty! Here Sluggy, Sluggy, Sluggy!
While the slugs are chowing down I pulled out the Grass Killer. I spend time, money, sweat and blood on my grass and now I am killing it – But just the naughty grass. The weedy stuff really. The bad grass growing in my walkway.
I need to mow the good grass this week if it would stop raining. It’s going to get all long and thick and hard to mow. Who am I kidding? The weeds are going to get all long and the clover is going to get all thick and hard to mow. At least its green. The back yard is back is back to looking like a motocross course after the race, hmm. That’s an idea. Would the Motocross people give me some sort of Motomoney for use of the yard?
If I have no control over the backyard, I can still poison the front yard into submission.
While in the Chemical Weapons isle at Lowes I picked up some Mass Spectrum bug killer as well. My little veggie babies are protected. They don’t seem to be growing, but they aren’t going to get eaten either. I will kill them all by myself.
The rose bush is blooming. I do not touch the rose bush. Needless to say, it is flourishing.
If I went away for a few weeks my carrots would win ribbons. I’m here everyday and they are going to die. My garlic is doing positive growy things. I haven’t heard from the potatoes yet. I think they moved without leaving a forwarding address. Bastards.
While my flowers are disgracing me in front of the neighbors, I am not putting my laundry away. I have a mountain of it. Prior to the Ice Age, I pulled out my summer clothes, thinking I could do the whole seasonal wardrobe switch. It’s a mess, but it’s for a good cause. It is still a mess and now its winter again and the cause is looking less good. I also have laundry sitting around and left over clothes from the trip and all that stuff to put away…
Or.
I could think about painting the entryways, the bathroom or the office. I could search for the perfect table for the front entry. Something little. Not too little, but small. I don’t like spindly-legged tables or colonial style. Ikea? I wanna, but I don’t have custody of the catalogue and the website is lacking. Goodwill? Flea Market? Haunt the curb looking for treasure in the trash?
There are so many things I could do instead of putting my clothes away. I could empty my dishwasher, figure out what the new mystery odor coming from the sink is, vacuum the living room, unearth the dining room table…
If I put off Mt. Laundry, the kitty might get crushed in the inevitable landslide. If it is there long enough it may spawn its own baby tees. Wildlife could ensue. Slugs could ensue.
My flowers were very pretty. Past tense. In the past, of historical note, back in the day, antique.
Something ate them. Chewed the leaves, gobbled the flowers, snacked on the roots. Sucked the life right out of them.
Slug Bastards.
Slugs. In my plants. Near my front door. Slugging up my stairs, slugging up to my doorstep. Within slug sliming distance of my body parts.
Needless to say. This means war. I bought Weapons of Slug Destruction. Slug bait. Little tiny Slug Traps. Slug motels. Those bastards killed Mary Marigold! Damn it! And her sister flower Susan and little Timmy Flower. Timmy was just a sprout; he never even had a chance to bloom! Sob.
The slugs must go. Now.
Lowes has an entire section devoted to Chemical Weapons. There are millions of bugs and not every weapon works on every bug. You must buy the right one. Bring the wrong one home and the little bastards will do the backstroke through it. Laughing. At You.
Numerous plant experts told me that my potted plants were being eaten by slugs, counseled me to score Slug Bait. So slug bait was purchased. I took the dogger for a walk, ate dinner, watched a little Law and Order and psyched myself for the Big Event.
Slug bait looks like fish food. Slug chow. Eat up buddies. The Nice Lady is here and she is handing out candy. Ummmm, nummy treats! Tasty! Here Sluggy, Sluggy, Sluggy!
While the slugs are chowing down I pulled out the Grass Killer. I spend time, money, sweat and blood on my grass and now I am killing it – But just the naughty grass. The weedy stuff really. The bad grass growing in my walkway.
I need to mow the good grass this week if it would stop raining. It’s going to get all long and thick and hard to mow. Who am I kidding? The weeds are going to get all long and the clover is going to get all thick and hard to mow. At least its green. The back yard is back is back to looking like a motocross course after the race, hmm. That’s an idea. Would the Motocross people give me some sort of Motomoney for use of the yard?
If I have no control over the backyard, I can still poison the front yard into submission.
While in the Chemical Weapons isle at Lowes I picked up some Mass Spectrum bug killer as well. My little veggie babies are protected. They don’t seem to be growing, but they aren’t going to get eaten either. I will kill them all by myself.
The rose bush is blooming. I do not touch the rose bush. Needless to say, it is flourishing.
If I went away for a few weeks my carrots would win ribbons. I’m here everyday and they are going to die. My garlic is doing positive growy things. I haven’t heard from the potatoes yet. I think they moved without leaving a forwarding address. Bastards.
While my flowers are disgracing me in front of the neighbors, I am not putting my laundry away. I have a mountain of it. Prior to the Ice Age, I pulled out my summer clothes, thinking I could do the whole seasonal wardrobe switch. It’s a mess, but it’s for a good cause. It is still a mess and now its winter again and the cause is looking less good. I also have laundry sitting around and left over clothes from the trip and all that stuff to put away…
Or.
I could think about painting the entryways, the bathroom or the office. I could search for the perfect table for the front entry. Something little. Not too little, but small. I don’t like spindly-legged tables or colonial style. Ikea? I wanna, but I don’t have custody of the catalogue and the website is lacking. Goodwill? Flea Market? Haunt the curb looking for treasure in the trash?
There are so many things I could do instead of putting my clothes away. I could empty my dishwasher, figure out what the new mystery odor coming from the sink is, vacuum the living room, unearth the dining room table…
If I put off Mt. Laundry, the kitty might get crushed in the inevitable landslide. If it is there long enough it may spawn its own baby tees. Wildlife could ensue. Slugs could ensue.
Monday, May 19, 2003
All In The Family
FRIDAY
6:30 am - Up. Shower, teeth, hair, clothes.
6:50 am - Dog taken out, fed, walked, returned to crate.
7:15 am - read paper
7:30 am -- cat fed, box filled.
7:40 am - Last minute things packed.
7: 45 am – Fashion crises, bag repacked.
7:50 am - Bags by door.
7:55 am – toothbrush discoverd still in bathroom. Bag repacked.
8:00 am - Wait. Being pacing. Decide chosen book sucks; discover all books in possession suck. Stick with chosen book, hope it doesn’t suck that much.
8:05 am - Pacing.
8:10 am - pacepacepace
8:15 am - Load car. 74 degrees
8:16 am - go across street for breakfast. Wait in line.
8:30 am - On road. Rain starts.
10:30 am - Traffic tie up for accident. Improved rain! Now with pouring action!
11:15 am - Discover not tied up for accident, tied up to look at puddle in median.
2:00 pm – Chosen book does suck that much.
3:30 pm - Traffic tied up for accident on other side of freeway.
4:05 pm - Traffic tied up for accident caused by looking at now cleared accident.
5:30 pm. Still raining, arrive at destination 48 degrees.
Change clothes to go eat get back into car. Try to remember who all these people are. Multiple new children since last visit. Still Raining.
Go to house, watch basketball… So not at all like football. So tired, went to sleep.
SATURDAY
Go to party. Ate much food, spoke to many relatives, knew who some of them were. Discovered the Pennsylvania Dutch serve cake before the meal. Decide this is a lifestyle choice I could get behind. Was I over dressed? Yes. Yes I was. Will I never wear anything more dressy than clean chinos and a polo shirt to another family event ( barring weddings)? call me chino girl!
Lather rinse repeat.
My uncle successfully turned 90. Still very cool guy.
My grandmother knew who I was but thought that I am a child. A very tall child. I am tall, tall, tall; and a child or was very recently, a child. My youthful innocence makes me seem childlike. I am hoping this is not tied to my marital status or my child freeness. I am so young looking that I must be much younger then I really am. The gray in my hair really looks like blond highlights .
The party was really fun and held at a lovely old home. I got to speak to and get caught up with a lot of kin I haven’t scene in decades. The birthday cake was fabulous.
Still raining, 54 degrees.
SUNDAY
6:30 am – tiny toddler cousin selflessly volunteered to act as alarm clock. Did excellent job. Wash up, dress, strip bedding, pack bags. Take bags downstairs.
7:00 am – Sunday morning children’s programming on television is awful.
7:30 am - Still raining. 56 degrees.
7:45 am - Why do programming people hate small children? I mean, really, really hate.
8:00 am - On road to breakfast.
8:30 am - Eat breakfast.
9:00 am – On road. Still Raining.
11:30 am – IKEA!!!!
Why don’t I have an IKEA?? Why! Why do they hate me? This is amazing. I could live here. I want everything. It’s like a really big, much cooler Target! It’s like a Target mated with a Sam’s club crossed with a Pottery Barn and every day is the day after Christmas.
If there had been an IKEA when I was furnishing my first place? Or the second or third or this one? Oh My God. I could have such neat stuff. I never would have gotten that Frequent Shoppers card at Goodwill.
I bought the best shower curtain ever. I have new hope for my bathroom. With the mirrors I bought for my entry ways, my chi will be safer. I will be happier and all will be good in the world – a world that I have really kewl paper napkins and an IKEA catalogue!
The greater Baltimore/Washington area has Three IKEAs.
The greater Dianaverse has none. The next time I go to IKEA, I am bringing the truck. I want to create my own IKEAverse.
6:00 pm – Arrive Home. Still raining, 53 degrees.
FRIDAY
6:30 am - Up. Shower, teeth, hair, clothes.
6:50 am - Dog taken out, fed, walked, returned to crate.
7:15 am - read paper
7:30 am -- cat fed, box filled.
7:40 am - Last minute things packed.
7: 45 am – Fashion crises, bag repacked.
7:50 am - Bags by door.
7:55 am – toothbrush discoverd still in bathroom. Bag repacked.
8:00 am - Wait. Being pacing. Decide chosen book sucks; discover all books in possession suck. Stick with chosen book, hope it doesn’t suck that much.
8:05 am - Pacing.
8:10 am - pacepacepace
8:15 am - Load car. 74 degrees
8:16 am - go across street for breakfast. Wait in line.
8:30 am - On road. Rain starts.
10:30 am - Traffic tie up for accident. Improved rain! Now with pouring action!
11:15 am - Discover not tied up for accident, tied up to look at puddle in median.
2:00 pm – Chosen book does suck that much.
3:30 pm - Traffic tied up for accident on other side of freeway.
4:05 pm - Traffic tied up for accident caused by looking at now cleared accident.
5:30 pm. Still raining, arrive at destination 48 degrees.
Change clothes to go eat get back into car. Try to remember who all these people are. Multiple new children since last visit. Still Raining.
Go to house, watch basketball… So not at all like football. So tired, went to sleep.
SATURDAY
Go to party. Ate much food, spoke to many relatives, knew who some of them were. Discovered the Pennsylvania Dutch serve cake before the meal. Decide this is a lifestyle choice I could get behind. Was I over dressed? Yes. Yes I was. Will I never wear anything more dressy than clean chinos and a polo shirt to another family event ( barring weddings)? call me chino girl!
Lather rinse repeat.
My uncle successfully turned 90. Still very cool guy.
My grandmother knew who I was but thought that I am a child. A very tall child. I am tall, tall, tall; and a child or was very recently, a child. My youthful innocence makes me seem childlike. I am hoping this is not tied to my marital status or my child freeness.
The party was really fun and held at a lovely old home. I got to speak to and get caught up with a lot of kin I haven’t scene in decades. The birthday cake was fabulous.
Still raining, 54 degrees.
SUNDAY
6:30 am – tiny toddler cousin selflessly volunteered to act as alarm clock. Did excellent job. Wash up, dress, strip bedding, pack bags. Take bags downstairs.
7:00 am – Sunday morning children’s programming on television is awful.
7:30 am - Still raining. 56 degrees.
7:45 am - Why do programming people hate small children? I mean, really, really hate.
8:00 am - On road to breakfast.
8:30 am - Eat breakfast.
9:00 am – On road. Still Raining.
11:30 am – IKEA!!!!
Why don’t I have an IKEA?? Why! Why do they hate me? This is amazing. I could live here. I want everything. It’s like a really big, much cooler Target! It’s like a Target mated with a Sam’s club crossed with a Pottery Barn and every day is the day after Christmas.
If there had been an IKEA when I was furnishing my first place? Or the second or third or this one? Oh My God. I could have such neat stuff. I never would have gotten that Frequent Shoppers card at Goodwill.
I bought the best shower curtain ever. I have new hope for my bathroom. With the mirrors I bought for my entry ways, my chi will be safer. I will be happier and all will be good in the world – a world that I have really kewl paper napkins and an IKEA catalogue!
The greater Baltimore/Washington area has Three IKEAs.
The greater Dianaverse has none. The next time I go to IKEA, I am bringing the truck. I want to create my own IKEAverse.
6:00 pm – Arrive Home. Still raining, 53 degrees.
Friday, May 16, 2003
On The Road Again
I can’t wait to be the road again… By the time you guys read this I’ll be on the road again.
In the back seat of my Mothers truck. It could be the jump seat of my brother’s truck or the drivers’ seat of mine, so I’m getting out lucky.
I got myself all packed. Then I find out that while Spring had sprung where I live it is still the tail end of winter where I’m going. So change of plans, out with the tee shirts, in with the turtlenecks. I’m going to wear an almost coordinated jacket over my summer weight party outfit. My winter wardrobe is not party ready. My winter wardrobe says “Hi. My name is Sweater. I have a bad cough”.
In trying to find something to wear I realized I had nothing to wear on my feet. So over lunch I made an Emergency Shoe run. I didn’t have time to be picky, so I just found the right color and prayed for a size that wouldn’t hurt my feet too much.
I got lucky. On Sale even. The issue being is that they are sandals. My feet aren’t ready for sandals. I have about a thousand pairs of socks and everything I own has laces. I have chosen to say no to a foot fetishistic world. My toes are not ready for foot porn. My toes are going to be all naked and exposed. The toes are going to hit the stage, ready or not. I am a professional. We will be ready. I may have fingernail polish.
I went to Brosky and Alphagal’s house and raided Alphagals enormous supply of fingernail polish. Alphagals’ toes must be toe stars. She can paint her nails with out even touching her cuticles. Alphagal knows what cuticles are.
I found a very neat shade of pink. It even has sparkles. I applied it. I figure that a little is nice, a lot would be even nicer. It looks like I allowed a four year old to do my nails. A four year old with poor muscle control and a short attention span.
My fingernail polish only lasted fifteen minutes before it started to peal off. While this is a very interesting sensation, my nails look like crap now. I’m going to have to take it off, leading to my fingers and toes not matching and I think this may be a bad thing.
I missed the day they taught us how to apply fingernail polish in How to be A Girl 101. I must have been at soccer practice getting beaten up by girls named Tiny.
My cousins who I will be seeing this weekend, are good at those things. I don’t see them often but they always look nice. Effortlessly Nice. I achieve Nice only with enormous effort. Needless to say I show very little effort on an average day. They show more effort for a trip to the grocery then I do for spending the day at work. They did their homework in How To be A Girl 101.
I bet they did extra credit projects and cleaned erasers after school, while I was dodging cars in the street playing four square in the street with my friends.
I finally over came my hair issues and learned to use product to make it less shrubby. Letting it grow also seemed to help. Throwing away my hair dryer really helped. The hair dryer was acting as some sort of Miracle Grow Shrub Hair Food and my hair did not need to be shrubbier. I think they taught Hair Pruning in that How To Be A Girl Class while I was playing in the dirt in my back yard.
In college I so few female friends I had to get a subscription to Cosmo just to keep up with what other girls were doing. It became clear very quickly I was not a Cosmo girl. I am not as smart, easy, or willing to under go Brazilian Waxes or laugh his jokes no matter how much his car costs. The magazine requested I not renew my subscription.
Screw Em. I aced How To Be A Woman 4230, I ended up with a great rack, and I don't have to laugh at things I don't think are funny, like his jokes, but I can laugh at things I do think are funny, like his Kia.
Anyway, I’ll be back Monday with a report about the weekend and my 12 hours in a car with my family.
I can’t wait to be the road again… By the time you guys read this I’ll be on the road again.
In the back seat of my Mothers truck. It could be the jump seat of my brother’s truck or the drivers’ seat of mine, so I’m getting out lucky.
I got myself all packed. Then I find out that while Spring had sprung where I live it is still the tail end of winter where I’m going. So change of plans, out with the tee shirts, in with the turtlenecks. I’m going to wear an almost coordinated jacket over my summer weight party outfit. My winter wardrobe is not party ready. My winter wardrobe says “Hi. My name is Sweater. I have a bad cough”.
In trying to find something to wear I realized I had nothing to wear on my feet. So over lunch I made an Emergency Shoe run. I didn’t have time to be picky, so I just found the right color and prayed for a size that wouldn’t hurt my feet too much.
I got lucky. On Sale even. The issue being is that they are sandals. My feet aren’t ready for sandals. I have about a thousand pairs of socks and everything I own has laces. I have chosen to say no to a foot fetishistic world. My toes are not ready for foot porn. My toes are going to be all naked and exposed. The toes are going to hit the stage, ready or not. I am a professional. We will be ready. I may have fingernail polish.
I went to Brosky and Alphagal’s house and raided Alphagals enormous supply of fingernail polish. Alphagals’ toes must be toe stars. She can paint her nails with out even touching her cuticles. Alphagal knows what cuticles are.
I found a very neat shade of pink. It even has sparkles. I applied it. I figure that a little is nice, a lot would be even nicer. It looks like I allowed a four year old to do my nails. A four year old with poor muscle control and a short attention span.
My fingernail polish only lasted fifteen minutes before it started to peal off. While this is a very interesting sensation, my nails look like crap now. I’m going to have to take it off, leading to my fingers and toes not matching and I think this may be a bad thing.
I missed the day they taught us how to apply fingernail polish in How to be A Girl 101. I must have been at soccer practice getting beaten up by girls named Tiny.
My cousins who I will be seeing this weekend, are good at those things. I don’t see them often but they always look nice. Effortlessly Nice. I achieve Nice only with enormous effort. Needless to say I show very little effort on an average day. They show more effort for a trip to the grocery then I do for spending the day at work. They did their homework in How To be A Girl 101.
I bet they did extra credit projects and cleaned erasers after school, while I was dodging cars in the street playing four square in the street with my friends.
I finally over came my hair issues and learned to use product to make it less shrubby. Letting it grow also seemed to help. Throwing away my hair dryer really helped. The hair dryer was acting as some sort of Miracle Grow Shrub Hair Food and my hair did not need to be shrubbier. I think they taught Hair Pruning in that How To Be A Girl Class while I was playing in the dirt in my back yard.
In college I so few female friends I had to get a subscription to Cosmo just to keep up with what other girls were doing. It became clear very quickly I was not a Cosmo girl. I am not as smart, easy, or willing to under go Brazilian Waxes or laugh his jokes no matter how much his car costs. The magazine requested I not renew my subscription.
Screw Em. I aced How To Be A Woman 4230, I ended up with a great rack, and I don't have to laugh at things I don't think are funny, like his jokes, but I can laugh at things I do think are funny, like his Kia.
Anyway, I’ll be back Monday with a report about the weekend and my 12 hours in a car with my family.
Thursday, May 15, 2003
No (clothes) Horse Sense at’ll
I’m going to a 90 year old mans birthday and I haven’t a thing to wear!
Not just any 90-year-old man, my Great Uncle’s 90th birthday. He’s a lot sharper then some people I work with. I saw a picture taken of him years ago while he was in the service, he looked like he kicked a lot of ass in his day. Little guy, huge arms.
It’s not that I have no clothes to wear. I just don’t have anything I want to wear, in that I have worn everything I own and I don’t want to wear them again.
Brosky and Alphagal brought me a fab blouse from France when they were there last summer. I would love to wear it. But. My Mother said jeans weren’t on the dress code for the event. I could wear if I could find something out of the denim family to wear with it. So I would have to go shopping with it and look at every damn thing in multiple stores until I found the perfect thing and by that time my Uncle would be well on his way to celebrating his 91st birthday. I need it by Friday.
So, taking the cool blouse out of the running. I again look through my closet. Ew. Why does everything I own look the same? Who let me buy so many long flowered dresses? Why did I buy the same one every time? I need What Not To Wear stat. I also need to delete everything navy blue. That would leave only flouncy flowered dresses and that could get hard in January.
Every time I go to the store I find one cute thing, which I imeadiatly want. I remember that while I still have checks it does not mean I still have money so I tell myself “yes, that is cute, but where am I going to wear it? To work? To walk the dog? Mowing the lawn?” I should add in there “To my Uncles Birthday Party?” “Yes, I’ll wear it to the party! Of course!”
And on the odd chance I do find something I really like it is really expensive and I find it much less cute then I had thought. It would also make me look fat or is so tasteful I might fade into the wallpaper.
Since I am running out of time I went shopping over my lunch. I figured I would shoot over there, look at the sale racks and find nirvana for 60 percent off.
Outfit 1 – Very cute, very on sale and it fit! I found it in the Juniors Department and it fit! Woo-Hoo. The skirt was all swingy and the top made me look tastefully busty. Big Score, on sale and tasteful bustyness. Then I looked in the mirror. Peach is not really peachy on me it’s more like bruised peach. It made me look washed out in an I used too much bleach way. The yellows in the skirt were kind of ick yellows. I put it back and left, sob, the Juniors Department.
Onward and Sportswear - ford.
Not going to make dress code in this department. Camp shirts, Bermuda shorts, clam diggers and appliquéd tees. I need shorts. But I am on a Mission. There is nothing in this section. Moving On.
Purses! I need a summer purse, Hawaiian Print Purses! On sale. I need one, they have sparkles on them. I will be so tired of it by the end of the summer, but I must have one.
Okay, now I have broke my shopping cherry. I am really ready to do business.
Better dresses. This is where I should have started. Sales Racks a go go. Boy, these are exactly like I have in my closet. I need another flouncy, flowered dress like I need more navy blue.
Oh! A navy blue flowered dress! The synergy! The price tag! I need more flowers like I need more navy blue. Moving on.
I am running out of time. I paw through the racks and find
Outfit Number 2 – Red. It’s a good color on me. The skirt is too big (Yay Me!) and the blouse and skirt together make me look like a tall picnic table. It also looks vaguely uniformy in nature for some reason. Moving On.
Really running out of time. Ready to check out.
One register open. Methuselahs’ mother works at Kohl’s. There was only one lady in front of me. Methuselahs’ elderly neighbor. The woman only had four tee shirts and a couple of nightgowns. How long could this take? That Long. All the tee shirts were “Oh, that is so cute” all four times; the nightgowns caused a whole dialogue on choices in eveningwear. I grew old enough to care.
Finally. I have my check made out, my license ready and my keys in my hand. She couldn’t process my check. She called for help. Eventually the guy wanders over and tells her what to do. She looks at him blankly. He looks at her blankly. I look at both of them homicidally. Mr. Genius finally walks Methuselahs’ mother through the process and I’m out the door.
I’m going to wear something I found in my closet. It goes with my new purse. Be afraid.
I’m going to a 90 year old mans birthday and I haven’t a thing to wear!
Not just any 90-year-old man, my Great Uncle’s 90th birthday. He’s a lot sharper then some people I work with. I saw a picture taken of him years ago while he was in the service, he looked like he kicked a lot of ass in his day. Little guy, huge arms.
It’s not that I have no clothes to wear. I just don’t have anything I want to wear, in that I have worn everything I own and I don’t want to wear them again.
Brosky and Alphagal brought me a fab blouse from France when they were there last summer. I would love to wear it. But. My Mother said jeans weren’t on the dress code for the event. I could wear if I could find something out of the denim family to wear with it. So I would have to go shopping with it and look at every damn thing in multiple stores until I found the perfect thing and by that time my Uncle would be well on his way to celebrating his 91st birthday. I need it by Friday.
So, taking the cool blouse out of the running. I again look through my closet. Ew. Why does everything I own look the same? Who let me buy so many long flowered dresses? Why did I buy the same one every time? I need What Not To Wear stat. I also need to delete everything navy blue. That would leave only flouncy flowered dresses and that could get hard in January.
Every time I go to the store I find one cute thing, which I imeadiatly want. I remember that while I still have checks it does not mean I still have money so I tell myself “yes, that is cute, but where am I going to wear it? To work? To walk the dog? Mowing the lawn?” I should add in there “To my Uncles Birthday Party?” “Yes, I’ll wear it to the party! Of course!”
And on the odd chance I do find something I really like it is really expensive and I find it much less cute then I had thought. It would also make me look fat or is so tasteful I might fade into the wallpaper.
Since I am running out of time I went shopping over my lunch. I figured I would shoot over there, look at the sale racks and find nirvana for 60 percent off.
Outfit 1 – Very cute, very on sale and it fit! I found it in the Juniors Department and it fit! Woo-Hoo. The skirt was all swingy and the top made me look tastefully busty. Big Score, on sale and tasteful bustyness. Then I looked in the mirror. Peach is not really peachy on me it’s more like bruised peach. It made me look washed out in an I used too much bleach way. The yellows in the skirt were kind of ick yellows. I put it back and left, sob, the Juniors Department.
Onward and Sportswear - ford.
Not going to make dress code in this department. Camp shirts, Bermuda shorts, clam diggers and appliquéd tees. I need shorts. But I am on a Mission. There is nothing in this section. Moving On.
Purses! I need a summer purse, Hawaiian Print Purses! On sale. I need one, they have sparkles on them. I will be so tired of it by the end of the summer, but I must have one.
Okay, now I have broke my shopping cherry. I am really ready to do business.
Better dresses. This is where I should have started. Sales Racks a go go. Boy, these are exactly like I have in my closet. I need another flouncy, flowered dress like I need more navy blue.
Oh! A navy blue flowered dress! The synergy! The price tag! I need more flowers like I need more navy blue. Moving on.
I am running out of time. I paw through the racks and find
Outfit Number 2 – Red. It’s a good color on me. The skirt is too big (Yay Me!) and the blouse and skirt together make me look like a tall picnic table. It also looks vaguely uniformy in nature for some reason. Moving On.
Really running out of time. Ready to check out.
One register open. Methuselahs’ mother works at Kohl’s. There was only one lady in front of me. Methuselahs’ elderly neighbor. The woman only had four tee shirts and a couple of nightgowns. How long could this take? That Long. All the tee shirts were “Oh, that is so cute” all four times; the nightgowns caused a whole dialogue on choices in eveningwear. I grew old enough to care.
Finally. I have my check made out, my license ready and my keys in my hand. She couldn’t process my check. She called for help. Eventually the guy wanders over and tells her what to do. She looks at him blankly. He looks at her blankly. I look at both of them homicidally. Mr. Genius finally walks Methuselahs’ mother through the process and I’m out the door.
I’m going to wear something I found in my closet. It goes with my new purse. Be afraid.
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
All Quite on the Eastern Porch
It was so quite today.
The Mouth That Roars was at a management meeting as well as all of the chiefs and most of the Indians. The phones weren’t even ringing as often and less ringing phones mean fewer overhead pages. The secretaries were pissed about this “If they aren’t going to answer their phones, we’re just going to put them to voice mail!” It is hard to answer your phone when you are twenty miles away at a meeting! Bitchwhoreslut wasn’t in either, so it was indeed a beautiful day.
The new chiller outside my window sounds like a jet engine revving up when it starts; I had not noticed that before. It is really loud for about 15 seconds every half hour or so. Since it was 75 degrees today, I question why I was hearing it all. Tsk.
Speaking of chillers. Mine at home was peeing all over my basement floor. So I called the A/C people and they came out and shock and awe! They didn’t pull a strip from some doohickey thingy and thus the doohickey couldn’t do its job and the machine was incontinent. They fixed it. I spent all weekend about to die from the heat. The dogger just followed me around with her eyes the whole time saying “ I’m hot and getting prickly heat because you don’t love meeeeeeeee!” The weather today and for the rest of the week? Now that the doohickey on the A/C is ready to go? Highs in the 70s.
I actually got some work done today. I had a stack of requests piled up and I was able to knock out two of them. Yay Me! I have this terrible feeling that there are more of them somewhere and I got distracted and just put them somewhere. I was pleased, I looked though several hounded sheets of paper and actually found the name I was looking for. Whoopee! I hate doing all that and finding nothing. It’s so anticlimactic.
I’m going to have to hurry up tomorrow morning and fill this one request before the lawyer comes in to look at some more stuff. I think I told him he would have it by now and it might be nice to give him the first request before I have to start on the second. He does lose points for calling me fifteen minutes before I get off. No yellow sticky notes for him.
I still have three bins of filing to do and I know there is at least that many piled up by Bitchwhoreslut and The Zombies desks. I can only do so much filing when I can only do it twice a week. And I always do as I am asked.
Speaking if doing as asked. The Oakland Public Library got its budget slashed and they need books www.pamie.com for some reason it will not print the link h,t,t,p, :/,/,w,w,w, dot p,a,m,i.e dot c,o,m. I so suck at this.
Pamie, behind, Pamie.Com is a very nice person who wants to help this library and asked her readers to do the same. I am shamed because I didn’t act sooner or order more books for these deserving people, it sucks being poor. So, to make up for my lack of action and cash, I ask that you at least follow the link and look at it. There are a lot of libraries with “Wish Lists” like the one in Oakland; you might find your neighborhood branch there as well.
Good News on the Gardening Front – My garlic plant appears to be sprouting! Yay! my carrots are still green but no movement on the potato front. Last year I planted all ready growing plants and this year I tried the potato experiment. It would be really cool if it works, if it doesn’t … next year I buy plants.
Daisy has learned to go up and down stairs! For the longest time she refused to even go near the door and when I got her past the door to the stairs she would start to sway and sing We Shall Overcome. Now she barrels down the stairs and right into the wall. It's not pretty, but she get's down the stairs - and when thime comes, she goes up the stairs too!, also, not pretty but ... This is great because now I can let her out the basement door into the back yard instead of hiking outside with her. She found that if I’m not with her in the back yard she can did deeper holes. I won’t have to get some expensive water feature for the back yard because she will be hitting the water table any day now. The back yard looks so, nice in a surface of the moon quality way. I’m going to call the whole thing The Sea Of Tranquility and be done with it. Does NASA give grants for landscaping? I’ve been seeing some good stuff being thrown out at the curb; I think a stray lunar lander is not out of the question.
I'm going to my local library branch and finally get a library card. If I can't find something I want to read, maybe I'll buy them something I want to read.
www.pamie.com
It was so quite today.
The Mouth That Roars was at a management meeting as well as all of the chiefs and most of the Indians. The phones weren’t even ringing as often and less ringing phones mean fewer overhead pages. The secretaries were pissed about this “If they aren’t going to answer their phones, we’re just going to put them to voice mail!” It is hard to answer your phone when you are twenty miles away at a meeting! Bitchwhoreslut wasn’t in either, so it was indeed a beautiful day.
The new chiller outside my window sounds like a jet engine revving up when it starts; I had not noticed that before. It is really loud for about 15 seconds every half hour or so. Since it was 75 degrees today, I question why I was hearing it all. Tsk.
Speaking of chillers. Mine at home was peeing all over my basement floor. So I called the A/C people and they came out and shock and awe! They didn’t pull a strip from some doohickey thingy and thus the doohickey couldn’t do its job and the machine was incontinent. They fixed it. I spent all weekend about to die from the heat. The dogger just followed me around with her eyes the whole time saying “ I’m hot and getting prickly heat because you don’t love meeeeeeeee!” The weather today and for the rest of the week? Now that the doohickey on the A/C is ready to go? Highs in the 70s.
I actually got some work done today. I had a stack of requests piled up and I was able to knock out two of them. Yay Me! I have this terrible feeling that there are more of them somewhere and I got distracted and just put them somewhere. I was pleased, I looked though several hounded sheets of paper and actually found the name I was looking for. Whoopee! I hate doing all that and finding nothing. It’s so anticlimactic.
I’m going to have to hurry up tomorrow morning and fill this one request before the lawyer comes in to look at some more stuff. I think I told him he would have it by now and it might be nice to give him the first request before I have to start on the second. He does lose points for calling me fifteen minutes before I get off. No yellow sticky notes for him.
I still have three bins of filing to do and I know there is at least that many piled up by Bitchwhoreslut and The Zombies desks. I can only do so much filing when I can only do it twice a week. And I always do as I am asked.
Speaking if doing as asked. The Oakland Public Library got its budget slashed and they need books www.pamie.com for some reason it will not print the link h,t,t,p, :/,/,w,w,w, dot p,a,m,i.e dot c,o,m. I so suck at this.
Pamie, behind, Pamie.Com is a very nice person who wants to help this library and asked her readers to do the same. I am shamed because I didn’t act sooner or order more books for these deserving people, it sucks being poor. So, to make up for my lack of action and cash, I ask that you at least follow the link and look at it. There are a lot of libraries with “Wish Lists” like the one in Oakland; you might find your neighborhood branch there as well.
Good News on the Gardening Front – My garlic plant appears to be sprouting! Yay! my carrots are still green but no movement on the potato front. Last year I planted all ready growing plants and this year I tried the potato experiment. It would be really cool if it works, if it doesn’t … next year I buy plants.
Daisy has learned to go up and down stairs! For the longest time she refused to even go near the door and when I got her past the door to the stairs she would start to sway and sing We Shall Overcome. Now she barrels down the stairs and right into the wall. It's not pretty, but she get's down the stairs - and when thime comes, she goes up the stairs too!, also, not pretty but ... This is great because now I can let her out the basement door into the back yard instead of hiking outside with her. She found that if I’m not with her in the back yard she can did deeper holes. I won’t have to get some expensive water feature for the back yard because she will be hitting the water table any day now. The back yard looks so, nice in a surface of the moon quality way. I’m going to call the whole thing The Sea Of Tranquility and be done with it. Does NASA give grants for landscaping? I’ve been seeing some good stuff being thrown out at the curb; I think a stray lunar lander is not out of the question.
I'm going to my local library branch and finally get a library card. If I can't find something I want to read, maybe I'll buy them something I want to read.
www.pamie.com
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Kiss My Aunt Fan(dom)
Dear Fans of A TV Show I watch,
Yay! The show got picked up! Woo-Hoo! Very close call there, again. But we get another season.
Wait, you heard from your friend on another forum that she/he heard from a poster on some board that there was a article on some entertainment webzine that one of the actresses wouldn’t be back as a regular cast member! OMG! Whip out the gasoline I think we should all set ourselves a flame in protest!
She was totally forced out. Really
It couldn’t be her idea at all, you say? She wouldn’t so that to us! I mean she told us she loved us right? In that interview a couple of years ago in that German fan magazine? Some one must have a link to it?
This is an outrage! You say, I’m (you are) never going to watch this show again. I (you) really don’t like Second Male Lead or Third Male Lead or Second Female Lead at all! Male Lead is a wanker too! I hate this show. I hate the story line, the plot, the whole idea of this show, this is my favorite show, up till right now, now I Hate, it hate it hate it. I only watch for Female lead (girl crush). She hasn’t been around much what with getting knocked up this season and last season those pesky, yet entirely not her fault, most likely a plot by the producers, absences from the show at vitally important times.
I think we need a pettion! You say, we should start a pettion and send it to the network! Show them that we mean business! They will totally cave to the power of the Internet petition!
And web sites! We (you) can put up lots of web sites dedicated to our Loathing of the Network and their unfair treatment of our Heroine. Because she would never rather spend her time with other more lucrative less genre specific projects and her newborn. Lets pelt them with emails as well! And the production company behind all this. This is their fault.
And those new actors they are daring to bring in! That is just a way of writing our (your girl crush) Heroine out! I hate that actor! We all ready have a male lead! We don’t need another. Much less one as talented with a strong fan base of his own. We need a strong female lead! We love her! Everyone else hates her (us) she is so good and pure and everyone still thinks she’s (me, we are) is a Bitch! Unfair! Our fragile, baby self worth will plummet. WAAAAAH!
Get a God Damned Grip.
It is even worse when an actor leaves for greener pastures and the story line dictates that the character dies. Good God.
One of the shows I watch (I watch a lot of TV) had an actor who wanted out. She was very busy with other projects and the acting gig wasn't working for her. So, they came up with a really good, plot moving forward idea – Kill Her.
The online response to this was outrageous.
You would have thought the producers and writers took the actress out to the desert, killed her, laughed about it then danced on her shallow grave.
The actress lives on. The response was more explosive then if the actress herself had died. There was no rational response to be found. You couldn’t go to a forum and say, “Oh, yeah, I heard her next project is really fantastic”, with out a chorus of discontent shouting back “SHE’S DEAD! THEY KILLED HER”. This raged for months.
The actress had to address it over and over, the producers had to explain themselves over and over. The fans never did. No explanation of this sudden loss of mind or any kind of rational acknowledgment that they were actively mourning a fictious character.
I wanted some. I wanted them to apologize to me for making all the fans of the show look like raving loonies.
Is it just genre shows that have these crazy people attracted to them? Is it just Sci-Fi shows> they have to be aware there are no vampires or transporter beams – those are the things that would make this real world so much more tolerable.
To test this I joined a number of mailing lists (I watch a lot of TV) to see. Well, there is Sci-Fi, Genre Crazy and then there is:
1. Teenyboppers – I lurve him! BlahNBlah 4eva! DoN’T YoU ThinK ThAT He iz a HOOTTTTYYY! Me Do!
2. Procedural Geeks – I can’t not believe that had him pull out a Glicktyspeh 2456! Don’t they know that the department only uses Chipptygyups 34-67. Sloppy production values, did anyone else notice that Male Lead wore his badge on a string? WTF it goes on a regulation lanyard!
3. The Continuity Police – WTF! They showed her in red finger nail polish! She hates that color. She said it in ep 6-15 that she really “preferred pink”. Okay, three seasons ago in ep 3-6, Male Lead mentioned in that he once dated a woman named Jennifer. Now what is this in ep 6-18 about him not knowing any Jennifer’s!
4. The Troll – I don’t even watch this show but I can tell it sux. You people all sux. It is just a TV show! You peple all sux
5. The Amateur Psychologist – Writes a huge, bandwidth hogging treatise on the psychological damages of the Lead Male and Female characters, the second and third leads, a couple of special guest drug dealers/victim of the weeks and the show s creator. Is an English major but taking Psych 101 this semester and is getting a “B”.
6. The Real Life Relationshipper - Are A and B really dating! I wish they were! They should! I have a site dedicated to their (imaginary) real life relationship!
I give up. Crazy, No Life Having, real life rejecting, needs to get outside Fandoms cross all genres.
The only TV character worth crying over was Henry Blake.
Dear Fans of A TV Show I watch,
Yay! The show got picked up! Woo-Hoo! Very close call there, again. But we get another season.
Wait, you heard from your friend on another forum that she/he heard from a poster on some board that there was a article on some entertainment webzine that one of the actresses wouldn’t be back as a regular cast member! OMG! Whip out the gasoline I think we should all set ourselves a flame in protest!
She was totally forced out. Really
It couldn’t be her idea at all, you say? She wouldn’t so that to us! I mean she told us she loved us right? In that interview a couple of years ago in that German fan magazine? Some one must have a link to it?
This is an outrage! You say, I’m (you are) never going to watch this show again. I (you) really don’t like Second Male Lead or Third Male Lead or Second Female Lead at all! Male Lead is a wanker too! I hate this show. I hate the story line, the plot, the whole idea of this show, this is my favorite show, up till right now, now I Hate, it hate it hate it. I only watch for Female lead (girl crush). She hasn’t been around much what with getting knocked up this season and last season those pesky, yet entirely not her fault, most likely a plot by the producers, absences from the show at vitally important times.
I think we need a pettion! You say, we should start a pettion and send it to the network! Show them that we mean business! They will totally cave to the power of the Internet petition!
And web sites! We (you) can put up lots of web sites dedicated to our Loathing of the Network and their unfair treatment of our Heroine. Because she would never rather spend her time with other more lucrative less genre specific projects and her newborn. Lets pelt them with emails as well! And the production company behind all this. This is their fault.
And those new actors they are daring to bring in! That is just a way of writing our (your girl crush) Heroine out! I hate that actor! We all ready have a male lead! We don’t need another. Much less one as talented with a strong fan base of his own. We need a strong female lead! We love her! Everyone else hates her (us) she is so good and pure and everyone still thinks she’s (me, we are) is a Bitch! Unfair! Our fragile, baby self worth will plummet. WAAAAAH!
Get a God Damned Grip.
It is even worse when an actor leaves for greener pastures and the story line dictates that the character dies. Good God.
One of the shows I watch (I watch a lot of TV) had an actor who wanted out. She was very busy with other projects and the acting gig wasn't working for her. So, they came up with a really good, plot moving forward idea – Kill Her.
The online response to this was outrageous.
You would have thought the producers and writers took the actress out to the desert, killed her, laughed about it then danced on her shallow grave.
The actress lives on. The response was more explosive then if the actress herself had died. There was no rational response to be found. You couldn’t go to a forum and say, “Oh, yeah, I heard her next project is really fantastic”, with out a chorus of discontent shouting back “SHE’S DEAD! THEY KILLED HER”. This raged for months.
The actress had to address it over and over, the producers had to explain themselves over and over. The fans never did. No explanation of this sudden loss of mind or any kind of rational acknowledgment that they were actively mourning a fictious character.
I wanted some. I wanted them to apologize to me for making all the fans of the show look like raving loonies.
Is it just genre shows that have these crazy people attracted to them? Is it just Sci-Fi shows> they have to be aware there are no vampires or transporter beams – those are the things that would make this real world so much more tolerable.
To test this I joined a number of mailing lists (I watch a lot of TV) to see. Well, there is Sci-Fi, Genre Crazy and then there is:
1. Teenyboppers – I lurve him! BlahNBlah 4eva! DoN’T YoU ThinK ThAT He iz a HOOTTTTYYY! Me Do!
2. Procedural Geeks – I can’t not believe that had him pull out a Glicktyspeh 2456! Don’t they know that the department only uses Chipptygyups 34-67. Sloppy production values, did anyone else notice that Male Lead wore his badge on a string? WTF it goes on a regulation lanyard!
3. The Continuity Police – WTF! They showed her in red finger nail polish! She hates that color. She said it in ep 6-15 that she really “preferred pink”. Okay, three seasons ago in ep 3-6, Male Lead mentioned in that he once dated a woman named Jennifer. Now what is this in ep 6-18 about him not knowing any Jennifer’s!
4. The Troll – I don’t even watch this show but I can tell it sux. You people all sux. It is just a TV show! You peple all sux
5. The Amateur Psychologist – Writes a huge, bandwidth hogging treatise on the psychological damages of the Lead Male and Female characters, the second and third leads, a couple of special guest drug dealers/victim of the weeks and the show s creator. Is an English major but taking Psych 101 this semester and is getting a “B”.
6. The Real Life Relationshipper - Are A and B really dating! I wish they were! They should! I have a site dedicated to their (imaginary) real life relationship!
I give up. Crazy, No Life Having, real life rejecting, needs to get outside Fandoms cross all genres.
The only TV character worth crying over was Henry Blake.
Monday, May 12, 2003
Behind The Red Door
I painted my basement door. Red. Bright Red. To be honest, Blood Red. Somehow I doubt this is what the Episcopalians or the Feng Shui folks had in mind.
I washed the door down because I it was filthy and I thought I heard something once about washing stuff down before you paint it is a good idea. I never had that idea before, but live and learn.
They failed to mention that you should wait for the surface to be entirely dry before proceeding should have waited. The first swipe with the roller made Freddy Kruger movies look like hygiene films.
So I took a moment, wiped the paint from my eyes, hair, clothing, walls, floor, cat and found a paintbrush. Poor paint brush. I started again. I was getting this stuff everywhere. I am an exuberant painter on my best days, but this crap was getting everywhere. Big deal, it’s washable right? I’ve got my Official Painting Outfit on and I have an old moving blanket down on the floor. It’s just the basement anyway, right?
This looks good! Wow! I feel the better chi (whatever, okay?) all ready flowing and it looks so cool!
Why isn’t it sticking the way it should? This is taking more coats then it should; I’ve never used exterior paint before, it must act different.
What is this shite? What did I buy?
$9 a gallon, on sale.
I bought Industrial Maintainance, Enamel Oil Gloss – OSHA Red!
We are in not American Standard anymore.
So I putter on. I finally finish. It looks good! So red, so shiny, so very kewl. I do the dance of the one less item on The To Do List and go outside to wash the brush and my hands off.
The brush gets very red. The ground gets red, my drive way gets red, there is blood in the streets and the drug dealing neighbors aren’t even cleaning out their cars My hands are covered in red. If someone drives by now, they’ll think I either killed someone or received an object lesson. It will not come off. Rubbing at it rubs it in. By now the nozzle on the hose is stained and I begin to count the number of things I touched leaving the house.
It looks like a very bloody moron with OCD had run rampant out of my house. Red finger prints everywhere. And the damn mess won’t come off.
Oh. God. I’ve turned into Lady Macbeth, as sponsored by Home Depot.
I throw away the brush.
I make my way back into the house and try to wash this shite off.
My sink is now pink. My hands are still covered with paint.
I take a shower and spend 15 minutes crouched on the floor of the tub with a loofa trying to get this shite off my hands.
My loofa is now pink. My hands are still covered with paint.
The loofa scrubbing hand is starting to be less In Cold Blood and more Little Women. Unfortunately, the scrubee hand still looks like a put it down the disposal. Yuck.
More scrubbing. My right hand is now almost as pink as the loofa, but it is marginally less bloody then before. More scrubbing.
Did you know that oil based paint can be removed with Turpentine? Quickly, painlessly, and with out loss of a layer of skin?
Live and fricken learn.
I turned my air conditioner on for the first time this weekend. In May! The beginning on May. It wasn’t for me, I can stand the heat. I did it for my little furry babies (Oh, add to the list of Things Daisy Has Eaten: 1 bra). So I turned on the A/C and all was good.
The basement was filling with water, but the furry babies were happy. I called the repair folks and as the A/C still works they told me to call the Non Emergency number. It is a very hot weekend. It will be much cooler this coming week. When I’m out of the house most of the time. The guy will fix it, for free, I’m demanding. I didn’t do it, dogger didn’t do it, their guy probably did it when he finally brought the right sized filter three months after the system was installed.
It’s so hot. Dogger talked me into turning the A/C back on so she can invite her dog friends over for a pool party in the basement. Carson Daily and the Hilton Whores will be here soon. They heard there was a hot, wet, topless bitch somewhere and they all wanted to be photographed with it. I hope they bring some catnip, Tex is working the door and he can be a real hard ass about dress code.
I painted my basement door. Red. Bright Red. To be honest, Blood Red. Somehow I doubt this is what the Episcopalians or the Feng Shui folks had in mind.
I washed the door down because I it was filthy and I thought I heard something once about washing stuff down before you paint it is a good idea. I never had that idea before, but live and learn.
They failed to mention that you should wait for the surface to be entirely dry before proceeding should have waited. The first swipe with the roller made Freddy Kruger movies look like hygiene films.
So I took a moment, wiped the paint from my eyes, hair, clothing, walls, floor, cat and found a paintbrush. Poor paint brush. I started again. I was getting this stuff everywhere. I am an exuberant painter on my best days, but this crap was getting everywhere. Big deal, it’s washable right? I’ve got my Official Painting Outfit on and I have an old moving blanket down on the floor. It’s just the basement anyway, right?
This looks good! Wow! I feel the better chi (whatever, okay?) all ready flowing and it looks so cool!
Why isn’t it sticking the way it should? This is taking more coats then it should; I’ve never used exterior paint before, it must act different.
What is this shite? What did I buy?
$9 a gallon, on sale.
I bought Industrial Maintainance, Enamel Oil Gloss – OSHA Red!
We are in not American Standard anymore.
So I putter on. I finally finish. It looks good! So red, so shiny, so very kewl. I do the dance of the one less item on The To Do List and go outside to wash the brush and my hands off.
The brush gets very red. The ground gets red, my drive way gets red, there is blood in the streets and the drug dealing neighbors aren’t even cleaning out their cars My hands are covered in red. If someone drives by now, they’ll think I either killed someone or received an object lesson. It will not come off. Rubbing at it rubs it in. By now the nozzle on the hose is stained and I begin to count the number of things I touched leaving the house.
It looks like a very bloody moron with OCD had run rampant out of my house. Red finger prints everywhere. And the damn mess won’t come off.
Oh. God. I’ve turned into Lady Macbeth, as sponsored by Home Depot.
I throw away the brush.
I make my way back into the house and try to wash this shite off.
My sink is now pink. My hands are still covered with paint.
I take a shower and spend 15 minutes crouched on the floor of the tub with a loofa trying to get this shite off my hands.
My loofa is now pink. My hands are still covered with paint.
The loofa scrubbing hand is starting to be less In Cold Blood and more Little Women. Unfortunately, the scrubee hand still looks like a put it down the disposal. Yuck.
More scrubbing. My right hand is now almost as pink as the loofa, but it is marginally less bloody then before. More scrubbing.
Did you know that oil based paint can be removed with Turpentine? Quickly, painlessly, and with out loss of a layer of skin?
Live and fricken learn.
I turned my air conditioner on for the first time this weekend. In May! The beginning on May. It wasn’t for me, I can stand the heat. I did it for my little furry babies (Oh, add to the list of Things Daisy Has Eaten: 1 bra). So I turned on the A/C and all was good.
The basement was filling with water, but the furry babies were happy. I called the repair folks and as the A/C still works they told me to call the Non Emergency number. It is a very hot weekend. It will be much cooler this coming week. When I’m out of the house most of the time. The guy will fix it, for free, I’m demanding. I didn’t do it, dogger didn’t do it, their guy probably did it when he finally brought the right sized filter three months after the system was installed.
It’s so hot. Dogger talked me into turning the A/C back on so she can invite her dog friends over for a pool party in the basement. Carson Daily and the Hilton Whores will be here soon. They heard there was a hot, wet, topless bitch somewhere and they all wanted to be photographed with it. I hope they bring some catnip, Tex is working the door and he can be a real hard ass about dress code.
Sunday, May 11, 2003
Saturday, May 10, 2003
Friday, May 9, 2003
Workers Comp
Dear Fellow State Employees:
As a public servant, I understand and appreciate the work you do and the sacrifices you make.
( we can’t pay you or let you order office supplies. Have you seen the posters about getting a second job?
I also know the importance of recognizing your hard work and special devotion to serving the residents of North Carolina. You have an incredible work ethic and care deeply for the people you serve.
( we appreciate you not working for the citizens of South Carolina, that you bother to show up most of the time, even when its raining or hot or Friday or Monday or the day after or day before a holiday. Thank you for your continued efforts to not use profanity when talking to or about the people you serve unless you put your hand over the phone or lay it on your desk or are pretty sure you know how “hold” works. )
For these reasons, I have proclaimed May 5-9, 2003, as "State Employee Recognition Week," and May 7, 2003, as "State Employee Recognition Day." This is a time to celebrate your continued commitment to the people of the state.
( because the new budget doesn’t cover any kind of raise for you folks not working in my office or actually, those of you not sitting in my ergonomic chair right now
On behalf of our citizens, I thank you for a job well done. I celebrate your dedication, and I urge you to continue your unwavering commitment to excellence.
( blah, blah, blah, don’t even think about getting a raise this year.
With kindest regards, I remain
( please vote for me again, the budget shortfall was here when I took office. It is not my fault. Honest. Really. Vote For Me and I promise more paper clips in 2005!!
Very truly yours,
The Gov.
In honor of our honor, they had a “Wellness Fair”. I thought that I would go; actually I thought one of my friends would go with me, but someone didn’t want to be told she was fat. In the fairs defense you had to stand in line to be told you were fat, they didn’t just run around and grab people randomly for guerrilla style Body Mass Indicating.
I also thought there would be food. Like fried chicken pieces or ice cream bars. No, and as it was pointed out to me after I got back to work, it was a Health Fair; I was going from the Food Is Healthy For Us position. There was food there, but it was food in the eye of the beholder type food. Lots of vegetarian cake and soy based food stuff. I got a soy-based sponge. It is not edible.
I primarily went for the free stuff. If they aren’t going to feed me they willbe handing over magnates and stickers. I got a very large bumper sticker that reads “I Like Cotton”. Very passive message for a honking big sticker. I only like cotton? I don’t Love cotton? If you’re going to advertise a product I would go with a strong statement “Cotton! – Shock and Awe!” or “Go NC Cotton!”, “Cotton! Loves NASCAR”, “Cotton Supports The Troops!” I mean, ya know?
I got pamphlets: The Ozone, The Good and The Bad, The Six Ways to Treat, Promote and Improve Human Health, The Importance of Spinal Maintenance, Acupuncture and Allergies, Household Hazardous Waste Disposal, Use Local Transportation and several that promise that the right chiropractor will make me taller, better looking, more athletic and allergy free.
I got recipes from both the Vegetarians and the Beef Board.
It wasn’t all dull pamphlets. I got Stuff too, I have a neat measuring thing, two pencils, a seven day drug separator and a five inch plastic ruler that wants me to “Rinse NOW and Recycle!” a pad of sticky notes from Prudential, a bag clip, a paper fan and two magnets.
I also got a bag of soybeans. I think I’ll plant them and grow another sponge.
Dear Fellow State Employees:
As a public servant, I understand and appreciate the work you do and the sacrifices you make.
( we can’t pay you or let you order office supplies. Have you seen the posters about getting a second job?
I also know the importance of recognizing your hard work and special devotion to serving the residents of North Carolina. You have an incredible work ethic and care deeply for the people you serve.
( we appreciate you not working for the citizens of South Carolina, that you bother to show up most of the time, even when its raining or hot or Friday or Monday or the day after or day before a holiday. Thank you for your continued efforts to not use profanity when talking to or about the people you serve unless you put your hand over the phone or lay it on your desk or are pretty sure you know how “hold” works. )
For these reasons, I have proclaimed May 5-9, 2003, as "State Employee Recognition Week," and May 7, 2003, as "State Employee Recognition Day." This is a time to celebrate your continued commitment to the people of the state.
( because the new budget doesn’t cover any kind of raise for you folks not working in my office or actually, those of you not sitting in my ergonomic chair right now
On behalf of our citizens, I thank you for a job well done. I celebrate your dedication, and I urge you to continue your unwavering commitment to excellence.
( blah, blah, blah, don’t even think about getting a raise this year.
With kindest regards, I remain
( please vote for me again, the budget shortfall was here when I took office. It is not my fault. Honest. Really. Vote For Me and I promise more paper clips in 2005!!
Very truly yours,
The Gov.
In honor of our honor, they had a “Wellness Fair”. I thought that I would go; actually I thought one of my friends would go with me, but someone didn’t want to be told she was fat. In the fairs defense you had to stand in line to be told you were fat, they didn’t just run around and grab people randomly for guerrilla style Body Mass Indicating.
I also thought there would be food. Like fried chicken pieces or ice cream bars. No, and as it was pointed out to me after I got back to work, it was a Health Fair; I was going from the Food Is Healthy For Us position. There was food there, but it was food in the eye of the beholder type food. Lots of vegetarian cake and soy based food stuff. I got a soy-based sponge. It is not edible.
I primarily went for the free stuff. If they aren’t going to feed me they willbe handing over magnates and stickers. I got a very large bumper sticker that reads “I Like Cotton”. Very passive message for a honking big sticker. I only like cotton? I don’t Love cotton? If you’re going to advertise a product I would go with a strong statement “Cotton! – Shock and Awe!” or “Go NC Cotton!”, “Cotton! Loves NASCAR”, “Cotton Supports The Troops!” I mean, ya know?
I got pamphlets: The Ozone, The Good and The Bad, The Six Ways to Treat, Promote and Improve Human Health, The Importance of Spinal Maintenance, Acupuncture and Allergies, Household Hazardous Waste Disposal, Use Local Transportation and several that promise that the right chiropractor will make me taller, better looking, more athletic and allergy free.
I got recipes from both the Vegetarians and the Beef Board.
It wasn’t all dull pamphlets. I got Stuff too, I have a neat measuring thing, two pencils, a seven day drug separator and a five inch plastic ruler that wants me to “Rinse NOW and Recycle!” a pad of sticky notes from Prudential, a bag clip, a paper fan and two magnets.
I also got a bag of soybeans. I think I’ll plant them and grow another sponge.
Thursday, May 8, 2003
DVD killed my video collection
Everyone else got their first DVD player, one of the old ones, years ago. They bought their second one a couple of years ago.
I got my first and only DVD player for Christmas. I sat there and opened two different DVDs, two different Muppet Movies and sat there thinking.
“Oh, I can watch these over here. Cool. My own DVDs at their house. How neat.” I am that thick.
So now I have all these moves that I don’t want to watch. I know they would be so much better on DVD.
Close Encounters for instance, would have to be better. I have all the Indiana Jones movies, now available on DVD and now I figure that they would be much better on DVD too. It ruins my video watching pleasure.
I also missed the great renaissance of going out of business sales at all the stores that went belly up. There were a lot of them and they all bought it. And they all had DVDs for pennies on the dollar. I wasted all that on videos.
And everything is on DVD. Titles not available any longer on videos are available in DVD. It is going to force me to buy a lot of Stephen Rea movies. No one does tall, dark and depressed like Stephen Rea. Even when he’s happy he’s sad.
I may also have to replace my John Hughes collection. He introduced me to the black hole of Andrew McCarthy. I think Pretty in Pink was the first video I bought. I love that movie. Now I have to decided if having a single video copy of All the Presidents Men is adequate. I really did like the book better, do I need Ordinary People, or Welcome to Sarajevo on DVD. I don’t really think I needed WTS on video; it was very depressing, even with the future Dr. Luka Hottie from E.R. I don’t think “bomb them, bomb those backward bastards back to the Stone Age” is the reaction they wanted from their audience.
And Adams Family it was fun in a theatre full of people snapping along with the theme… but after that?
is so funny but so ultimately depressing I haven’t rewatched it in years. I never rewatched Forrest Gump after discovering that Shawshank Redemption got totally over looked because of it. Stupid box of chocolates.
There is also Harold and Maude, so good. Why haven’t I watched that lately? Or LA Confidential, Kevin Spacey is an actor god in that, Fargo is still in the plastic wrap.
The original and un Pced E.T, West Side Story, Henry V, The Maltese Falcon. Interesting story with that one. I was working at a video store and my secret Santa forgot me. My boss noticed that I liked classic movies (not for their art, but because we were restricted to watching only PG-13 and below movies in the store and that meant we watched a lot of Jim Carrey and it was black and white or Dumb and Dumber) so he got me The Maltese Falcon, not that big a deal but I was my secret Santa’s secret Santa and I never forgot her. Bitch.
So I’m feeling pretty good about my videos. But.
Killer Babe for the CIA, Stars and Bars, Newsies, Stepping Out, Married to It, Before Sunrise, Ready To Wear, not one but two Ed Wood films, River Dance, The Journey of Natty Gan?
I needed to buy these? I needed to move these 1200 miles with me? Married To it, Stars and Bars? ?
Not to mention the five Barney and Friends Home Videos I worked on or the three seasons of Buffy I acquired before it ran daily on FX. The seven or eight or nine seasons of X-Files …
DVDs also take up less space. Think how many seasons of Angel I can store! More John Cusack movies.
Everyone else got their first DVD player, one of the old ones, years ago. They bought their second one a couple of years ago.
I got my first and only DVD player for Christmas. I sat there and opened two different DVDs, two different Muppet Movies and sat there thinking.
“Oh, I can watch these over here. Cool. My own DVDs at their house. How neat.” I am that thick.
So now I have all these moves that I don’t want to watch. I know they would be so much better on DVD.
Close Encounters for instance, would have to be better. I have all the Indiana Jones movies, now available on DVD and now I figure that they would be much better on DVD too. It ruins my video watching pleasure.
I also missed the great renaissance of going out of business sales at all the stores that went belly up. There were a lot of them and they all bought it. And they all had DVDs for pennies on the dollar. I wasted all that on videos.
And everything is on DVD. Titles not available any longer on videos are available in DVD. It is going to force me to buy a lot of Stephen Rea movies. No one does tall, dark and depressed like Stephen Rea. Even when he’s happy he’s sad.
I may also have to replace my John Hughes collection. He introduced me to the black hole of Andrew McCarthy. I think Pretty in Pink was the first video I bought. I love that movie. Now I have to decided if having a single video copy of All the Presidents Men is adequate. I really did like the book better, do I need Ordinary People, or Welcome to Sarajevo on DVD. I don’t really think I needed WTS on video; it was very depressing, even with the future Dr. Luka Hottie from E.R. I don’t think “bomb them, bomb those backward bastards back to the Stone Age” is the reaction they wanted from their audience.
And Adams Family it was fun in a theatre full of people snapping along with the theme… but after that?
There is also Harold and Maude, so good. Why haven’t I watched that lately? Or LA Confidential, Kevin Spacey is an actor god in that, Fargo is still in the plastic wrap.
The original and un Pced E.T, West Side Story, Henry V, The Maltese Falcon. Interesting story with that one. I was working at a video store and my secret Santa forgot me. My boss noticed that I liked classic movies (not for their art, but because we were restricted to watching only PG-13 and below movies in the store and that meant we watched a lot of Jim Carrey and it was black and white or Dumb and Dumber) so he got me The Maltese Falcon, not that big a deal but I was my secret Santa’s secret Santa and I never forgot her. Bitch.
So I’m feeling pretty good about my videos. But.
Killer Babe for the CIA, Stars and Bars, Newsies, Stepping Out, Married to It, Before Sunrise, Ready To Wear, not one but two Ed Wood films, River Dance, The Journey of Natty Gan?
I needed to buy these? I needed to move these 1200 miles with me? Married To it, Stars and Bars? ?
Not to mention the five Barney and Friends Home Videos I worked on or the three seasons of Buffy I acquired before it ran daily on FX. The seven or eight or nine seasons of X-Files …
DVDs also take up less space. Think how many seasons of Angel I can store! More John Cusack movies.
Wednesday, May 7, 2003
insert clever, revelent to the content thought provoking title here
I hate to get all Andy Rooney here, but…
Don’t you hate it when the drive time DJs don’t play music? All the stations don’t play music all at the same time. So no matter how many buttons you punch you get no music. You get ads, you get moronic chatter and you get traffic.
They play two songs an hour and they won’t tell you what the titles or artists are. Shouldn’t they let me know who sings it so I can run out and pay for the CD? Full price? Keep me in the dark and I’ll learn how to MP3 . Damn it. My ancient computer has never heard of MP3s and couldn’t play them even if I did learn how to play them.
Don’t you hate it when technology moves faster then your annual cost of not living increase? I forgot, I don’t get COLI. I work for the damn state. We don’t even have Windirs 98, no that isn’t a misspell. We got our software from a guy named Skeeter.
< self-pity>don’t you hate it when some one else sets your priorities? I have two tasks. Task one is brutally tedious and mind numbing. I have been led to understand that if this task isn’t filled the very world will fall off its axis and we will all die.
So I save the world everyday. All day. Until.
Nominal Boss asks about Blindingly Tedious Task Two. Task Two is enough to make Brutally Tedious Task One look thought provoking by comparison. I haven’t thought about Task Two in a while, as Task One was so pivotal to our continued survival as a species.
Much to my shock, Nominal Boss says it is really Task Two that will protect us from obliteration. Imagine my surprise.
So now I get to spend two days a week on BT Task One, which I will never get caught up on if it not done all day every day, and three days a weeks with BT Task Two, which will never get done if it is not done all day everyday. Job security my ass. I hope you are all grateful for the planet still turning.
Sisyphus and I are at one. I files thousands of sheets of paper, I purge from the files thousands of sheets of paper and I do it all day long. And after I have done that the Bitchwhoreslut (one of Nominal Boss’ two minions, the other being The Zombie. TZ will punch holes in the filing if requested, but she won’t punch holes in all the pages. Periodcally, there are unpunched pages. She does this on purpose) wanders in and smirks as she brings me more bins to file. I hate her. To mix things up once a month I file the single page filing. Imagine a foot and a half of paper, one sheet at a time one chart at a time, 436 charts total. The file cabinets were constructed in hell and those that open don’t open all the way, those that close I cannot open. Every cabinet is of different construction and design. They are all broken in a different way.
Well, I have been delivered from all that. Now I get to spend hours standing in front of a copy machine. The “Good” Copy machine. Eight years old and counting.
Front page, second page, third page, back page, inserts. Over and over. After the hours on my feet doing that I get to redact all of it. Redacting being a fancy way of saying Censoring. And Blindness Causing.
So I get to read all those copied pages. Hundreds of hand written pages. Looking for names, dates, room numbers, anything that could be construed as identifying I read every, if I’m lucky, boring word. If I’m not lucky it’s words about horrendous neglect and abuse of the elderly. All Day.
Then when I’m finished I get to copy all the pages again. This part is faster unless the machine is wonky then it is one page at a time. I hate it when the machine is wonky. So I hate it a lot. How much does your job suck? Not very much by comparison does it? I do all this in a building with bars on the windows and increasingly, the odor of acetate in the air. The ceiling is falling in and the plaster (God let it be plaster) is turning to dust.
So Much Fun.
And I don’t actually hate my job. That much. At my old job I was a walking census. I knew who died, when; of what and at what time they went out 911 and where in the parking lot the EMS guys finally stopped CPR. I gave better Report at the end of the day then the nurses did. Yay Me!
The dead people did me in. And getting laid off.
At least at this job the dead people are paper dead people. So much better then stubbing your toe on the Funeral Home gurney. And the funeral home gurney driving asshats. Talkative Asshats. I do not want to join in on a chorus of “On the Road Again” over a dead body. I don’t care how dead they are.
Nothing is as Brutally Tedious or painfully repeatitive as elevator rides with men in cheap black suits with gurneys that want to sing duets.
I hate to get all Andy Rooney here, but…
Don’t you hate it when the drive time DJs don’t play music? All the stations don’t play music all at the same time. So no matter how many buttons you punch you get no music. You get ads, you get moronic chatter and you get traffic.
They play two songs an hour and they won’t tell you what the titles or artists are. Shouldn’t they let me know who sings it so I can run out and pay for the CD? Full price? Keep me in the dark and I’ll learn how to MP3 . Damn it. My ancient computer has never heard of MP3s and couldn’t play them even if I did learn how to play them.
Don’t you hate it when technology moves faster then your annual cost of not living increase? I forgot, I don’t get COLI. I work for the damn state. We don’t even have Windirs 98, no that isn’t a misspell. We got our software from a guy named Skeeter.
< self-pity>don’t you hate it when some one else sets your priorities? I have two tasks. Task one is brutally tedious and mind numbing. I have been led to understand that if this task isn’t filled the very world will fall off its axis and we will all die.
So I save the world everyday. All day. Until.
Nominal Boss asks about Blindingly Tedious Task Two. Task Two is enough to make Brutally Tedious Task One look thought provoking by comparison. I haven’t thought about Task Two in a while, as Task One was so pivotal to our continued survival as a species.
Much to my shock, Nominal Boss says it is really Task Two that will protect us from obliteration. Imagine my surprise.
So now I get to spend two days a week on BT Task One, which I will never get caught up on if it not done all day every day, and three days a weeks with BT Task Two, which will never get done if it is not done all day everyday. Job security my ass. I hope you are all grateful for the planet still turning.
Sisyphus and I are at one. I files thousands of sheets of paper, I purge from the files thousands of sheets of paper and I do it all day long. And after I have done that the Bitchwhoreslut (one of Nominal Boss’ two minions, the other being The Zombie. TZ will punch holes in the filing if requested, but she won’t punch holes in all the pages. Periodcally, there are unpunched pages. She does this on purpose) wanders in and smirks as she brings me more bins to file. I hate her. To mix things up once a month I file the single page filing. Imagine a foot and a half of paper, one sheet at a time one chart at a time, 436 charts total. The file cabinets were constructed in hell and those that open don’t open all the way, those that close I cannot open. Every cabinet is of different construction and design. They are all broken in a different way.
Well, I have been delivered from all that. Now I get to spend hours standing in front of a copy machine. The “Good” Copy machine. Eight years old and counting.
Front page, second page, third page, back page, inserts. Over and over. After the hours on my feet doing that I get to redact all of it. Redacting being a fancy way of saying Censoring. And Blindness Causing.
So I get to read all those copied pages. Hundreds of hand written pages. Looking for names, dates, room numbers, anything that could be construed as identifying I read every, if I’m lucky, boring word. If I’m not lucky it’s words about horrendous neglect and abuse of the elderly. All Day.
Then when I’m finished I get to copy all the pages again. This part is faster unless the machine is wonky then it is one page at a time. I hate it when the machine is wonky. So I hate it a lot. How much does your job suck? Not very much by comparison does it? I do all this in a building with bars on the windows and increasingly, the odor of acetate in the air. The ceiling is falling in and the plaster (God let it be plaster) is turning to dust.
So Much Fun.
And I don’t actually hate my job. That much. At my old job I was a walking census. I knew who died, when; of what and at what time they went out 911 and where in the parking lot the EMS guys finally stopped CPR. I gave better Report at the end of the day then the nurses did. Yay Me!
The dead people did me in. And getting laid off.
At least at this job the dead people are paper dead people. So much better then stubbing your toe on the Funeral Home gurney. And the funeral home gurney driving asshats. Talkative Asshats. I do not want to join in on a chorus of “On the Road Again” over a dead body. I don’t care how dead they are.
Nothing is as Brutally Tedious or painfully repeatitive as elevator rides with men in cheap black suits with gurneys that want to sing duets.
Tuesday, May 6, 2003
Dripped Dry
Along with the truck squashing and carrot planting that I did this weekend, I did my laundry.
Very Exciting, you say.
Really. For this first time since I left my parents house I washed and dried my own clothes in my own place.
I have officially thrown away my bonnet! Ma Ingles and I are no longer sharing the secret shame of stiff sheets and crunchy towels.
When you air dry sheets, they take on a linoleumesque quality. Very comfy. Very nice to snuggle up to. I can put on my socks with out first cracking them open, I can do my wash and wear it on the same day! No more pre-treatment! No more stains setting in unto forming their own patterns! Instant gratification. Even better? I no longer have to haunt the laundry mat. As much as I have really enjoyed going on safari every couple of weeks … not going to miss it.
I mean with all the packing up and lugging and keeping track and wild life experience I have racked up, I could be a Sherpa.
I can now fold my laundry in front of the TV like a civilized person, and not some static – y TV tuned to a Mexican soap opera, I can fold in front ofmy static – y TV! tuned to a Mexican soap opera.
Take a dip in my stream of conscience
After I get home from work and take dogger out, I feed dogger and put dogger back in her box for her after dinner chill out. I drink a coke and watch Emergency Vets and try to imagine what my vet would charge for similar catastrophofies. I change clothes and dogger and I go for our walk. Today when I went in to change clothes I noticed that my bed was very comfortable. Really, really comfortable.
Just as I was dozing off and dreaming about my imaginary movie star boyfriend, John Cusack, I felt a wet kitty nose on mine.
Oh, Kitty! Being all like a normal non-mentally ill kitty. Hello Pookie!
“Feed Me.”
It’s not time yet. Come here and be cute.
“Feed Me”
I forget that this animal’s internal clock isn’t set for “Not Time”. It is always time for “Feed Me”.
No, if I feed you, you’ll go upstairs and I won’t see you until “Feed Me”. Stay here and be fluffy. IMSBF needs me. Mummy is tired and dogger can’t walk herself, well, technically, she can, but …
“Feed me or the alarm clock is rubble”
I’m not giving in. I’m resting. I’m resting with a 20 lb fur pillow on my face.
“Feed Me or this turns into a Law and Order”
Noooooooo. Go away. Tease the dogger.
“Feed Me”
“No”
Crash/Shatter/thump
Fine.
In reality, kitty needs me to feed him on demand like he needs somewhere to store his running shoes. Kitty looks like the bastard offspring of a rental tux and a beach ball.
This weekend kitty discovered The Back Yard. He sits out there and plots.
For the first time, he can be outside unescorted - and it not turn into a Lifetime Movie with Tracy Pollen , Kitty opened the screen door and let in hysteria – the Diana Story
Say Anything is on. My IMSBF is calling me.
Along with the truck squashing and carrot planting that I did this weekend, I did my laundry.
Very Exciting, you say.
Really. For this first time since I left my parents house I washed and dried my own clothes in my own place.
I have officially thrown away my bonnet! Ma Ingles and I are no longer sharing the secret shame of stiff sheets and crunchy towels.
When you air dry sheets, they take on a linoleumesque quality. Very comfy. Very nice to snuggle up to. I can put on my socks with out first cracking them open, I can do my wash and wear it on the same day! No more pre-treatment! No more stains setting in unto forming their own patterns! Instant gratification. Even better? I no longer have to haunt the laundry mat. As much as I have really enjoyed going on safari every couple of weeks … not going to miss it.
I mean with all the packing up and lugging and keeping track and wild life experience I have racked up, I could be a Sherpa.
I can now fold my laundry in front of the TV like a civilized person, and not some static – y TV tuned to a Mexican soap opera, I can fold in front ofmy static – y TV! tuned to a Mexican soap opera.
Take a dip in my stream of conscience
After I get home from work and take dogger out, I feed dogger and put dogger back in her box for her after dinner chill out. I drink a coke and watch Emergency Vets and try to imagine what my vet would charge for similar catastrophofies. I change clothes and dogger and I go for our walk. Today when I went in to change clothes I noticed that my bed was very comfortable. Really, really comfortable.
Just as I was dozing off and dreaming about my imaginary movie star boyfriend, John Cusack, I felt a wet kitty nose on mine.
Oh, Kitty! Being all like a normal non-mentally ill kitty. Hello Pookie!
“Feed Me.”
It’s not time yet. Come here and be cute.
“Feed Me”
I forget that this animal’s internal clock isn’t set for “Not Time”. It is always time for “Feed Me”.
No, if I feed you, you’ll go upstairs and I won’t see you until “Feed Me”. Stay here and be fluffy. IMSBF needs me. Mummy is tired and dogger can’t walk herself, well, technically, she can, but …
“Feed me or the alarm clock is rubble”
I’m not giving in. I’m resting. I’m resting with a 20 lb fur pillow on my face.
“Feed Me or this turns into a Law and Order”
Noooooooo. Go away. Tease the dogger.
“Feed Me”
“No”
Crash/Shatter/thump
Fine.
In reality, kitty needs me to feed him on demand like he needs somewhere to store his running shoes. Kitty looks like the bastard offspring of a rental tux and a beach ball.
This weekend kitty discovered The Back Yard. He sits out there and plots.
For the first time, he can be outside unescorted - and it not turn into a Lifetime Movie with Tracy Pollen , Kitty opened the screen door and let in hysteria – the Diana Story
Say Anything is on. My IMSBF is calling me.
Monday, May 5, 2003
Garden Weasel
Last year I bought tiny tomato plants, petite peppers and potential potatoes. I dug little holes and raked dirt around.
It was so much more fulfilling then watching my one tomato plant wither and die on my porch. Even hearty tomato plants were not hearty enough for a Dallas summer. I really wanted somewhere to really plant things. Things I could eat and bring to work like everyone else did. Pretending they were tired of all these tomatoes and peppers and carrots. Tired my ass. Show offs.
“Look what a good farmer I am. Look at what good dirt I have cultivated and what big strong healthy plants grow in it” “how about some nice homemade Tomato Basil soup, would you like some pesto sauce? Or some salsa? Care for an eggplant? Or some carrots? Would you care for some peach cobbler or an apple pie? All from my garden.” All the while blue birds land on her hands and butterflies weave honeysuckle in her hair. Nature Whore.
Shut Up Lady Bountiful. You have bird shit on your hands and weeds in your hair. You smell like compost and you entertain homicidal thoughts about bunny rabbits. Bunny Bigot.
All this time I was Lady Dribble. My two tomato plants produced, all season – four sad undersized tomatoes. The “whole season” lasting only a few weeks until they took turns playing the lead in an All Tomatoe production of Camille while I was at work.
I was beside myself and I don’t even like tomatoes. My flowering plants didn’t even make it as long as the doomed tomatoes. Third floor walk-ups in the middle of the valley of the shadow of death. are not really conductive to plant growth. It didn’t add to the situation that it was the second of two history making hot summers.
I wanted plants! Everyone else had plants. Even at my apartments there were people with their own potted jungles. I couldn’t make allegedly hearty plants live and they were stops on Garden Tours.
Then I moved.
I moved here in the spring. Everything had flowers! Plants I didn’t know flowered looked like cotton candy. I took walks at my new apartment and walked though honeysuckle and bunny rabbits. One day I was startled by a herd of deer. In the city, behind my apartment! It was so much cooler and nicer and everything smelled nice. Here, I could make things live!
Not on the porch of a second floor walk up.
This was a surprise. But. There was a garden in my future. A real garden. In the ground.
These plants did better. I couldn’t be there to watch them like I wanted or water them as compulsively as I thought they should be. It rains here a lot. But not enough.
It took longer for them to wither but they withered. My carrots were dwarf – y and not at all like the tall leggy grocery store Super Model carrots. My potato plants produced a handful of stunted potatoes. The ground was too hard. Sigh.
And then I moved again. My own yard to garden in! The dog and the winter turned it into a mud flat and then a muddy mess. The dog likes plants. A . Lot. As chew toys. So no garden for me. I turned to the front yard.
My little farmer heart was filled with farmer joy. More like flower farmer joy, but. Still. My yard is pretty. Not at all edible. Sigh. But pretty. Good enough.
Not really. I want vegetables! I don’t even like vegetables. I don’t even eat vegetables. I want to grow vegetables damn it.
This year I am too poor to do the whole garden thing. This year I Had only the suspension pf my truck to give, and the transmission And possibly the breaks.
I heard the phrase that all truck owners fear “what are you doing This weekend? Can we borrow your truck?” Duh, Duh
Duh.
The city I live in has makes it’s own municipal dirt. Good dirt. If Old Jeb had missed that possom and hit this black gold he wouldn’t have moved to Beverly Hills, he would have set up shop Where he was and not bothered with cement ponds and Movie Stars. This stuff is heroin for plants. He could have marketed this stuff to movie stars. It is amazing.
And all you have to do is go get it.
A bucket is not just a bucket is not just a bucket. And all truck suspensions are not created equally. After the front-end loader dumped its “bucket” into the back of my truck the front wheels didn’t touch the ground. The back wheels all but flattened out and the bed almost touched the ground. After we borrowed a shovel and limped to a gas station to air up the tires we were on our way. This year their garden is going to make Libby’s jealous.
I am growing a potato plant in the good dirt in a plastic garbage bin on my patio. I may grow carrots ( boy howdy am I going to grow carrots! I had to go to three different nurseries till I found someone with carrots. It is a little late to plant carrots so he gave me a whole flat for free . I’m also going to grow garlic). I feel all farmer. Finally.
I could be Lady Bountiful my own self-but with out the bird shit and the bunny bigotry.
If anyone has any knowledge about container gardening vegetables, I would appreciate it if you would let me know. I’ll print the tips.
Last year I bought tiny tomato plants, petite peppers and potential potatoes. I dug little holes and raked dirt around.
It was so much more fulfilling then watching my one tomato plant wither and die on my porch. Even hearty tomato plants were not hearty enough for a Dallas summer. I really wanted somewhere to really plant things. Things I could eat and bring to work like everyone else did. Pretending they were tired of all these tomatoes and peppers and carrots. Tired my ass. Show offs.
“Look what a good farmer I am. Look at what good dirt I have cultivated and what big strong healthy plants grow in it” “how about some nice homemade Tomato Basil soup, would you like some pesto sauce? Or some salsa? Care for an eggplant? Or some carrots? Would you care for some peach cobbler or an apple pie? All from my garden.” All the while blue birds land on her hands and butterflies weave honeysuckle in her hair. Nature Whore.
Shut Up Lady Bountiful. You have bird shit on your hands and weeds in your hair. You smell like compost and you entertain homicidal thoughts about bunny rabbits. Bunny Bigot.
All this time I was Lady Dribble. My two tomato plants produced, all season – four sad undersized tomatoes. The “whole season” lasting only a few weeks until they took turns playing the lead in an All Tomatoe production of Camille while I was at work.
I was beside myself and I don’t even like tomatoes. My flowering plants didn’t even make it as long as the doomed tomatoes. Third floor walk-ups in the middle of the valley of the shadow of death. are not really conductive to plant growth. It didn’t add to the situation that it was the second of two history making hot summers.
I wanted plants! Everyone else had plants. Even at my apartments there were people with their own potted jungles. I couldn’t make allegedly hearty plants live and they were stops on Garden Tours.
Then I moved.
I moved here in the spring. Everything had flowers! Plants I didn’t know flowered looked like cotton candy. I took walks at my new apartment and walked though honeysuckle and bunny rabbits. One day I was startled by a herd of deer. In the city, behind my apartment! It was so much cooler and nicer and everything smelled nice. Here, I could make things live!
Not on the porch of a second floor walk up.
This was a surprise. But. There was a garden in my future. A real garden. In the ground.
These plants did better. I couldn’t be there to watch them like I wanted or water them as compulsively as I thought they should be. It rains here a lot. But not enough.
It took longer for them to wither but they withered. My carrots were dwarf – y and not at all like the tall leggy grocery store Super Model carrots. My potato plants produced a handful of stunted potatoes. The ground was too hard. Sigh.
And then I moved again. My own yard to garden in! The dog and the winter turned it into a mud flat and then a muddy mess. The dog likes plants. A . Lot. As chew toys. So no garden for me. I turned to the front yard.
My little farmer heart was filled with farmer joy. More like flower farmer joy, but. Still. My yard is pretty. Not at all edible. Sigh. But pretty. Good enough.
Not really. I want vegetables! I don’t even like vegetables. I don’t even eat vegetables. I want to grow vegetables damn it.
This year I am too poor to do the whole garden thing. This year I Had only the suspension pf my truck to give, and the transmission And possibly the breaks.
I heard the phrase that all truck owners fear “what are you doing This weekend? Can we borrow your truck?” Duh, Duh
Duh.
The city I live in has makes it’s own municipal dirt. Good dirt. If Old Jeb had missed that possom and hit this black gold he wouldn’t have moved to Beverly Hills, he would have set up shop Where he was and not bothered with cement ponds and Movie Stars. This stuff is heroin for plants. He could have marketed this stuff to movie stars. It is amazing.
And all you have to do is go get it.
A bucket is not just a bucket is not just a bucket. And all truck suspensions are not created equally. After the front-end loader dumped its “bucket” into the back of my truck the front wheels didn’t touch the ground. The back wheels all but flattened out and the bed almost touched the ground. After we borrowed a shovel and limped to a gas station to air up the tires we were on our way. This year their garden is going to make Libby’s jealous.
I am growing a potato plant in the good dirt in a plastic garbage bin on my patio. I may grow carrots ( boy howdy am I going to grow carrots! I had to go to three different nurseries till I found someone with carrots. It is a little late to plant carrots so he gave me a whole flat for free . I’m also going to grow garlic). I feel all farmer. Finally.
I could be Lady Bountiful my own self-but with out the bird shit and the bunny bigotry.
If anyone has any knowledge about container gardening vegetables, I would appreciate it if you would let me know. I’ll print the tips.
Sunday, May 4, 2003
Saturday, May 3, 2003
Friday, May 2, 2003
Bloggys, Bloggys, Bloggys, keep those bloggys going! Rawhide!
I didn't get my goal accomplished today, that goal being "File the single page files for B". I started off strong with an effort to get them hole punch and alphabetized being successful. I had hoped to putter around the B-BR cabnets until at least lunch.
Our federal PTB (Powers That Be) found a really neat way to make several people in the office lose a day to scrambling for data so that the PTB can play compare and contrast with their web site. We of course have nothing better to do. The elves will come in over night and do all my filing.
While I was making copies of some very boring spreadsheets, I listened to the secretaries discuss the differences between Duvet Covers and something called a Duvaleia. I had no idea people keep corrupt Haitian dictators as bedding, but I could be behind. I do not follow Heute Culture for linens. It was also decided that a duvet was really a big pillowcase. Whew.
The best thing with the whole request thing is that I now have Explorer as my browser instead of the hateful, evil, Illigal Operation causing Netscape Navigator.
I had to celebrate by going to a site I haven't been able to access's for the past couple of weeks to celebrate.
I also learned some crazy 'puter skillz and that is always good. It's been a long time since I used my brain at work. The last several weeks have been a carnival of Hole Punching, Stapling. Alphabetizing and Filing. Lather, Rinse, Repeat.
My parents are here and that is nice. They went shopping so I am spared the unpleasantness of Shopping for One. The Marriage Penalty has nothing on the Shopping for One Penalty. Shopping for a group is easy. Buy a lot, buy in Giant Economy and save money! When it is just one person you buy a lot and end up buying Tiny Expensive . So I try buying the smaller sizes of whatever it is and they end up costing more then the regular sized. Which bites. I end up throwing money away either way.
So I buy only when I am planning to cook. If I want chicken I buy one chicken breast or two pork chops or whatever. I don't need a weeks worth of left overs. I go to Sams for canned items (Yes, I know Sams is part of The Evil Empire. Sam's is bad. Wal-Mart is bad. I know. I never worked at either place; they are getting sued but big and employee empowerment to follow). As a result of my new shopping habits I have an empty refrigerator. It echoes and waits.
I have a handful of condiments but they are old and should be thrown out actually, some tub butter and a twelve pack of coke. I'm pathetic. I should be ashamed. Grownups don't have empty refrigerators. Grown ups always have bread, milk, butter, eggs, rolls, vegetables, fruit, jams, jellies orange juice and left overs. All artfully arranged.
So What.
I like Ramon and ravioli. I can make pasta and rice and I George Forman everything I can't boil on the stove or nuke in the microwave.
I have learned some things about shopping.
- Ask yourself why the knocks off pop tarts are .99? Real Pop Tarts are expensive.
- Stick to name brand Mac and Cheese. The off brands are gross.
- Potatoes can go bad. Vodka does not immediately ensue.
- Cats do not know that they are eating Knock off Kibble. Unless you tell them. Don't tell them or hover making sure they eat it. They get wise and check the bag.
- That huge economy bag of chocolate chips shouldn't be even allowed into the house. Don't temp nature.If it'a in the house it will get eaten. What I do not buy I can not eat.
- There is off brand Ramon. All Ramon is not created equally. Do your research.
- If you put a stone in your vegetable drawer and add a bunch of veggies, eventually you will get stone soup. You won't want to eat it, but you can have the stone soup and your spoiled potato vodka and have a food poisoning theme.
- Even frozen food can go bad.
- Leftovers make you fat.
Be brave; be retro, shop like your Greatgrandmother did.
I didn't get my goal accomplished today, that goal being "File the single page files for B". I started off strong with an effort to get them hole punch and alphabetized being successful. I had hoped to putter around the B-BR cabnets until at least lunch.
Our federal PTB (Powers That Be) found a really neat way to make several people in the office lose a day to scrambling for data so that the PTB can play compare and contrast with their web site. We of course have nothing better to do. The elves will come in over night and do all my filing.
While I was making copies of some very boring spreadsheets, I listened to the secretaries discuss the differences between Duvet Covers and something called a Duvaleia. I had no idea people keep corrupt Haitian dictators as bedding, but I could be behind. I do not follow Heute Culture for linens. It was also decided that a duvet was really a big pillowcase. Whew.
The best thing with the whole request thing is that I now have Explorer as my browser instead of the hateful, evil, Illigal Operation causing Netscape Navigator.
I had to celebrate by going to a site I haven't been able to access's for the past couple of weeks to celebrate.
I also learned some crazy 'puter skillz and that is always good. It's been a long time since I used my brain at work. The last several weeks have been a carnival of Hole Punching, Stapling. Alphabetizing and Filing. Lather, Rinse, Repeat.
My parents are here and that is nice. They went shopping so I am spared the unpleasantness of Shopping for One. The Marriage Penalty has nothing on the Shopping for One Penalty. Shopping for a group is easy. Buy a lot, buy in Giant Economy and save money! When it is just one person you buy a lot and end up buying Tiny Expensive . So I try buying the smaller sizes of whatever it is and they end up costing more then the regular sized. Which bites. I end up throwing money away either way.
So I buy only when I am planning to cook. If I want chicken I buy one chicken breast or two pork chops or whatever. I don't need a weeks worth of left overs. I go to Sams for canned items (Yes, I know Sams is part of The Evil Empire. Sam's is bad. Wal-Mart is bad. I know. I never worked at either place; they are getting sued but big and employee empowerment to follow). As a result of my new shopping habits I have an empty refrigerator. It echoes and waits.
I have a handful of condiments but they are old and should be thrown out actually, some tub butter and a twelve pack of coke. I'm pathetic. I should be ashamed. Grownups don't have empty refrigerators. Grown ups always have bread, milk, butter, eggs, rolls, vegetables, fruit, jams, jellies orange juice and left overs. All artfully arranged.
So What.
I like Ramon and ravioli. I can make pasta and rice and I George Forman everything I can't boil on the stove or nuke in the microwave.
I have learned some things about shopping.
- Ask yourself why the knocks off pop tarts are .99? Real Pop Tarts are expensive.
- Stick to name brand Mac and Cheese. The off brands are gross.
- Potatoes can go bad. Vodka does not immediately ensue.
- Cats do not know that they are eating Knock off Kibble. Unless you tell them. Don't tell them or hover making sure they eat it. They get wise and check the bag.
- That huge economy bag of chocolate chips shouldn't be even allowed into the house. Don't temp nature.If it'a in the house it will get eaten. What I do not buy I can not eat.
- There is off brand Ramon. All Ramon is not created equally. Do your research.
- If you put a stone in your vegetable drawer and add a bunch of veggies, eventually you will get stone soup. You won't want to eat it, but you can have the stone soup and your spoiled potato vodka and have a food poisoning theme.
- Even frozen food can go bad.
- Leftovers make you fat.
Be brave; be retro, shop like your Greatgrandmother did.
Thursday, May 1, 2003
By the Cover
I read a lot of junk. Not Junque even. Pure unadulterated junk. I used to love true crime novels until a true crime happened to one of my professors and I lost my taste for them. I think I liked them because I always knew what the outcome was ahead of time. Whatever trauma had happened had all ready happened and in most cases, the trauma causer was caught was punished.
I liked that. I wasn't looking for a "Who Done It", I was happy with the "He Done it and He Done Gone To Jail". My college library had a limited amount of leisure reading material available and for whatever reason they were crime novels.
There was also a fascinating (to me) book by a coroner detailing autopsies he had performed and interesting (to me) cause of death. I'm a little morbid (a lot).
What I hate about reading junk is the guilt. I don't want to be seen reading junk. I feel that if I am reading in public I should read something Good. But I read a lot of Good books and there aren't fun books (to me). Classic literature is all smart causing and character building and looks good on the book shelf after, but they take too long and make me think too much. They are the Nice Books, the "Let me introduce you to my Mother Books.
I like the one night stand books. The trashy, tarty, leather jacket wearing books. The books you would never admit to reading after Labor Day. After which you are supposed to retire that trash and pick up your anointed Charles Dickens and plunge back into what Goth horror you stopped reading once it got warm outside.
You can't properly read the classics if you are also swatting mosquitoes. Takes the Pomp right out of that book of Victorian Poetry you are pretending to read. Put that down and pick up a Detective Novel, preferably one from a series. They take 10 minutes to read and by the end of vacation you can truthfully say you read 8 novels.
Try a horror novel. It stays light until late, the boogieman has fled for darker climbs.
Cheap novels also take the abuse. Spill something on it? Not a problem, fold over the page? Not an issue, break the spine? No worries. Cheap paperbacks love getting beaten up, it makes them look tough. That prissy reprint of some pretentious British fop with mother issues can't hold a candle to a properly dog-eared paperback.
That paperback novel has been places, it got left in that sudden deluge last week, and it got left in your front seat for three months and got bleached by the sun. It has been stuffed into backpacks and carry ones. Tattooed by that phone number that you can't remember who it belongs to, but it looks over seas, it's scarred up from that incident with the car door, and has crayon over the fly leaf from that friends' two year old you ran into at the laundry mat that time.
The Hard Cover makes you look smart. People won't bother you when they see you immersed in some treatise. Paper back invites interruption. Hard backs build their own protective wall against incoming communication.
If it's a Hard Cover it is a new release. A New Book. The best thing ever. Better even then New Car, because New Book Smell is just for you. You can not share New Book Smell. It only lasts a minute. It 's the smell of a bookstore. Book binding, ink, new paper. The smell of a Book Store.
You can not get Book Store on line. Even New Books don't smell the right way when they arrive in the mail. Part of the excitement of going to look at books is the thrill of finding the book. Up and down isles, different sections and topics.
Even if you are on a Mission you are going to walk past the Buddest Self Help for The recently Transgendered isle or you will find that Big Book of Yard Tips you didn't know you had been looking for. Isle after Isle of things you didn't know you wanted to know about! What Opportunity!
Online reduces the chances of running across that Big Book of Yard Tips book because you were in the Mysteries section and you can't just amble over to Gardening. You can't skim the front page to see if this is what you really want or cheat and read the last page to see what happens. There is no sitting on the floor online.
Books are better the Videos
An old movie, even a good old movie looks dated. The clothes are look like something you grandma wore and the hairstyles are laughable. It can be so distraction that it takes you out of the story entirely. In a book, no matter when it was written or how detailed the explanation of their clothing and hair; you the reader can make then look like what ever you want them too. If you just know she would be all about the hip huggers and baby tee, hey, thy will be done! Victorian School Girl no more. You can't get into how they lived with out electricity? give them power! just because they lived before automobiles, pretend they just don't talk about them. You don't talk about your car in idle conversation about the garden, why should they.
I can't rewatch The Breakfast Club and be 16 again, but I can read The Outsiders and be in eighth grade again listening to the rest of the class get to where the building burns and one of the guys dies and start crying. Everytime. I can read I, Trissy again and feel the empowerment I felt when I read it as a child.
I have been all over New Mexico thanks to Tony Hillerman books. The movies made from those books don't give me the same sense of place that books do. I feel like I've been to Tuba City. I know who lives there and how they live. The movies didn't do that for me.
Nevada Barr has taken me on tours of National Parks that I didn't know were there. But I've been to them now.
My favorite books aren't classics, but they will be. Classic Junque Paper Back Novels .
I read a lot of junk. Not Junque even. Pure unadulterated junk. I used to love true crime novels until a true crime happened to one of my professors and I lost my taste for them. I think I liked them because I always knew what the outcome was ahead of time. Whatever trauma had happened had all ready happened and in most cases, the trauma causer was caught was punished.
I liked that. I wasn't looking for a "Who Done It", I was happy with the "He Done it and He Done Gone To Jail". My college library had a limited amount of leisure reading material available and for whatever reason they were crime novels.
There was also a fascinating (to me) book by a coroner detailing autopsies he had performed and interesting (to me) cause of death. I'm a little morbid (a lot).
What I hate about reading junk is the guilt. I don't want to be seen reading junk. I feel that if I am reading in public I should read something Good. But I read a lot of Good books and there aren't fun books (to me). Classic literature is all smart causing and character building and looks good on the book shelf after, but they take too long and make me think too much. They are the Nice Books, the "Let me introduce you to my Mother Books.
I like the one night stand books. The trashy, tarty, leather jacket wearing books. The books you would never admit to reading after Labor Day. After which you are supposed to retire that trash and pick up your anointed Charles Dickens and plunge back into what Goth horror you stopped reading once it got warm outside.
You can't properly read the classics if you are also swatting mosquitoes. Takes the Pomp right out of that book of Victorian Poetry you are pretending to read. Put that down and pick up a Detective Novel, preferably one from a series. They take 10 minutes to read and by the end of vacation you can truthfully say you read 8 novels.
Try a horror novel. It stays light until late, the boogieman has fled for darker climbs.
Cheap novels also take the abuse. Spill something on it? Not a problem, fold over the page? Not an issue, break the spine? No worries. Cheap paperbacks love getting beaten up, it makes them look tough. That prissy reprint of some pretentious British fop with mother issues can't hold a candle to a properly dog-eared paperback.
That paperback novel has been places, it got left in that sudden deluge last week, and it got left in your front seat for three months and got bleached by the sun. It has been stuffed into backpacks and carry ones. Tattooed by that phone number that you can't remember who it belongs to, but it looks over seas, it's scarred up from that incident with the car door, and has crayon over the fly leaf from that friends' two year old you ran into at the laundry mat that time.
The Hard Cover makes you look smart. People won't bother you when they see you immersed in some treatise. Paper back invites interruption. Hard backs build their own protective wall against incoming communication.
If it's a Hard Cover it is a new release. A New Book. The best thing ever. Better even then New Car, because New Book Smell is just for you. You can not share New Book Smell. It only lasts a minute. It 's the smell of a bookstore. Book binding, ink, new paper. The smell of a Book Store.
You can not get Book Store on line. Even New Books don't smell the right way when they arrive in the mail. Part of the excitement of going to look at books is the thrill of finding the book. Up and down isles, different sections and topics.
Even if you are on a Mission you are going to walk past the Buddest Self Help for The recently Transgendered isle or you will find that Big Book of Yard Tips you didn't know you had been looking for. Isle after Isle of things you didn't know you wanted to know about! What Opportunity!
Online reduces the chances of running across that Big Book of Yard Tips book because you were in the Mysteries section and you can't just amble over to Gardening. You can't skim the front page to see if this is what you really want or cheat and read the last page to see what happens. There is no sitting on the floor online.
Books are better the Videos
An old movie, even a good old movie looks dated. The clothes are look like something you grandma wore and the hairstyles are laughable. It can be so distraction that it takes you out of the story entirely. In a book, no matter when it was written or how detailed the explanation of their clothing and hair; you the reader can make then look like what ever you want them too. If you just know she would be all about the hip huggers and baby tee, hey, thy will be done! Victorian School Girl no more. You can't get into how they lived with out electricity? give them power! just because they lived before automobiles, pretend they just don't talk about them. You don't talk about your car in idle conversation about the garden, why should they.
I can't rewatch The Breakfast Club and be 16 again, but I can read The Outsiders and be in eighth grade again listening to the rest of the class get to where the building burns and one of the guys dies and start crying. Everytime. I can read I, Trissy again and feel the empowerment I felt when I read it as a child.
I have been all over New Mexico thanks to Tony Hillerman books. The movies made from those books don't give me the same sense of place that books do. I feel like I've been to Tuba City. I know who lives there and how they live. The movies didn't do that for me.
Nevada Barr has taken me on tours of National Parks that I didn't know were there. But I've been to them now.
My favorite books aren't classics, but they will be. Classic Junque Paper Back Novels .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)