And They Can Cook Too!

One link leads to another, and sometimes one link leads to spewing Coke all over the monitor. Ok, maybe it wasn't that funny, but this page about Rachael Ray did make me laugh out loud. Out of context and with a dirty mind, anything goes.

I like the Food Network. I've watched a few episodes of 30 Minute Meals. And I'm sure, with a full crew and a kitchen like that, I too could whip up a delicious meal in half an hour. It's not that I can't cook, the menu at my house just happens to be very limited. BBQ beef tips and shepherd's pie, I'm your girl. Pate and lobster rolls - I'll get us some reservations.

Usually I catch the end of 30 Minute Meals because Good Eats is on after, and it's all about Alton Brown. A little history and health lesson in a tasty package, what's not to like? (Wait, wait, not like that.) So in small doses Ray's ever perky personality is digestible. And sure, the boys like her, cause she's cute. A little too cute, but I'm probably just jealous. Guess I missed that issue of FHM.

However, at the risk of raising a few eyebrows I will say this:
Nigella is way hotter. And she has an accent.
Domestic Goddess indeed.

I'll add cooking lessons to the ever growing list of things to do. I should have explored more interests as a kid. Or to quote Louisa May Alcott's Jo "I should have been a great many things, Mr. Mayer."

How many minutes?

20 minutes.
I busted my ass for a 20 minute visit.
I scrubbed floors and poured over paperwork and forgot to eat and sleep for long periods of time for a 20 minute nod and paper-shuffle session, which was 2 and a half hours later than expected.

And Joey McIntyre got voted off Dancing with the Stars.
Growing up I had posters of him on my wall; it's not fair.
It's the only reality show I watch, and I missed half of it for a 20 minute lightbulb inspection.

I think I hear the blender calling.

I'll pay $6.95 for one of those, sure!

I need a drink.
Or a good boffing.
Maybe both.
Who wants to take advantage of the drunk girl at table 6?

Never really been my thing actually, drinking. Too many years of playing the designated driver, or designated blackmailer, depending on your point of view.
Those pictures will come in handy one day.

I can count on one hand the number of times I've been drunk; a statistic I'm usually happy with. However, when the boss suggests picking up a six pack on the way home, who am I to argue? And since she didn't specify what kind, maybe I should get beer and a man, to cover all the bases.

It's either drink, or shoot somebody.
I'll let you know how it goes.

Barenaked Ladies

And you thought this might be a naughty post.

As I've mentioned, I tend to come up with posts at the most inopportune times. Entire paragraphs of thought even. In the shower, in the car, while on the phone to the Boss. Depending on the content, it could get a little awkward. Of course I usually discard those post ideas, to save your virgin ears and all.

I had an idea for a post today. I really did. I was driving home, listening to BNL, fighting the pull of the drive-thru, talking to my fellow drivers, feeling a little sad when they did not respond. But it's gone, poof. If it's any good, it will come back to me.

Even if you aren't a fan of Barenaked Ladies (insert joke here) they do have some excellent lyrics. I'm currently playing Everything to Everyone on a loop. So for a little filler, here are some favorite songs and lyrics from that album.

For You: Could you just forget, if you can't forgive, All the things I cannot concede
Testing, 1, 2, 3: We recognize the present, Is half as pleasant, As our nostalgia for, A past that we resented, Recast and reinvented, Until it's how we meant it
Aluminum: You're so lightweight, how can you survive, Recycling moments from other's lives?
Take It Outside: Hardly know what anything's for, Just for show, I'm slamming the door

Another Postcard and Upside Down are also great. It's very annoying when lyrics sites get lyrics wrong, so just trust that what I wrote was correct, regardless of the link.

They are an excellent live band; I've seen them twice. And I find Ed to be totally hot. Actually, all the guys are in their unique way. Smart, funny, geekily sexy. Oh, I'm talking about boys again aren't I? Oops.

Panting Optional

Ah, the ocean view, the frolicking children, the rattlesnakes.

Let's go for a walk; a little fresh air, some exercise, it'll be great!
Ooh, look, a park, and you can see the ocean from here!
And hey, there's a winding trail to take you gently down the slope!
Walk.... walk.... Yes, it's pretty here. Nice breeze!
Sun is a little hot; maybe we should have brought water.
Walk.... walk....

Um.... what's that sign say?
Beware of Rattlesnakes? Rattlesnake Crossing?
So.... this trail here, it leads us into the heart of snake country?
Ok, well, uh....
What the hell was that noise? No, that noise!
Could you walk a little faster? Move it!
What, you want to stick around?
Pant pant... power walk.... shuffle step... pant pant
Do not veer off the path! Quickly, down the path, Red Team Go!
Pant pant pant
Look! Stairs leading to the street! Pant... Thank God...

Oh. The street does not gently wind it's way back up to the car huh?
So... pant... how far... pant... do you think... it is?
No... pant pant pant... I'm good... pant pant...
Shh... pant pant... saving oxygen...
Maybe we could rest here? On top of this Mercedes? pant
Ok, I could rest and your gym happy ass can go get the car for me.
Or, sure sure, I could just hoof it back with you, of course, right.

Lessons learned:
Do not let others pick the path.
What gently slopes down will most likely require a 90 degree angle upward climb.
If you want a good workout, follow the rattlesnakes.

Bad boys, funny boys, and vamps, oh my.

Can't blog.
Reading Eleven on Top.
Her car has already caught fire, she's had sex with Morelli and I know Ranger is about to make an appearance.
It won't win the Pulitzer, but it's damn entertaining.

Having a crush on a fictional character is much more rewarding than a crush on a celebrity. If the author is doing a good job, it's not about looks. Sure, there's a description and a mental image, but it's really all about personality. The things they say and do, the jokes they make and the quirks they have.

Some really hot fictional guys I gladly spend an evening or two in bed with:

Eric
Hitchcock Sewell
Ranger
Morelli
Dave the Laugh
(He's a fictional character, don't call the cops.)

This Was SO Not In The Job Description

My job is a lovely mix of paper-pushing and manual labor. I can sling 50 lb boxes around like it's just a warm up for the main event, and then spend 3 hours "discussing" the bill of lading for said boxes. And I won't even get into the customer service aspect. That's for another post after much quality time with Mr. Cuervo. I'm thinking I should really pay him a visit.

It was one of those days, and since I didn't get home until after 2:00 am, I think I can safely say it was also one of those nights. There are many tactics I use to deal with stress at work. Office Yoga. Deep breathing exercises. Chocolate. Very involved daydreams of winning lottery tickets and cabana boys at my service.

While covered in dust and dirt, sweating and cursing as myself and 2 coworkers tried in true sitcom fashion to piece together a shelving unit, a unit that clearly had never been put together by another human being ever before, I tried a new tactic.
I remembered that it could always be worse, and in fact, has.

I had a pretty comfy first job. No drive-thru speaker box or supermarket checker for me. I worked in a library. Yes, life was rough, what with the air conditioning and books and all that. At first I worked for free as a volunteer earning school credit, then I became a full-fledged city employee, complete with a forced retirement fund, which was a little unnerving at 16.

But no job is without it's downside.
Here is a small sampling of issues your local Library Clerk may be dealing with:

* Transients who think the fake potted palm in the Quiet Reading Area is a urinal.
* Patrons who think the outside Book Drop is a trash can, throwing their used condoms, dirty diapers and molding tupperware inside.
* Parents who mistaken the Children's Department for a day care and leave their 3 year old unattended for several hours, resulting in calls to the Police and Department of Children and Families.
* Perverts who believe jerking off on the back of unsuspecting patrons is an acceptable alternative to a pickup line.

But at least it was quiet.

The NPP Needs a Slogan

I tend to post after work, hence the typically late time stamp on my posts. It's not that I always work so late; I really have no set schedule. But nighttime is my time, even if evidence from my last post points to a need for a keyboard curfew.

I fear the next week or so I'll be on stakeout at work. I should set up a cot in the back and bring my bunny slippers. Visit from a Big Boss. Grrr. They always interrupt the flow, you know? With their fancy ideas and lack of real understanding of how this end of the business works. I'd like them to work a shift or two in my sensible shoes, and maybe I can jet around the country, sipping martinis and talking about my trip to Italy last week.

Actually, most of them are good people, I'm just jealous. It may be time to move on, but change is scary. I don't want to end up hating my job tho, because that sort of resentment just eats a huge gaping hole through anything else happy in your life.

I should be living vicariously through my characters, however they seem to have gone into the Novel Protection Program. They're probably tip-toeing across my brain right now, donning wigs and trench coats, hatching a plan to sneak their way into another plot, even as I type this.

I'd love to withdraw my savings and take up residence at a Westin, just me, my computer and a room service menu.
Westins are worth the price, with their truly Heavenly Bed and even more divine Bath.
Hmm.... A week of luxury or a couple months of rent. Anybody have a pill to counteract responsibility and common sense? Anyone?

Target Audience

What was I doing at 2 am this morning?
No, not sleeping!
Oh, um, no, not that either, sadly.
I was writing a really bad post. Wanna read it?

Holy crap I've got to go to bed.
But, you see, I fell off the caffeine wagon today. I swear, I've been doing SO GOOD, seriously, like NO caffeine, but then I hit the Mountain Dew, and those little cute cans aren't fooling anybody, you just down 5 instead of 1; they're like shot glasses of battery acid.

This is like drunk dialing, this strung out post I've got going on here. I'll lose all your respect in the morning if I post this thing.

Yeah, I know. There was more, but do we need further evidence of what really goes on in my head when I think no one is listening?

I was also frantically searching through blogs and found a wonderful one which I have linked to on the right there. Lovely writing and gorgeous pictures. Go check her out, I command thee!

Clearly, caffeine, like alcohol, requires a little more time in order to work its way out your system.

As for those little cans, it's all a marketing ploy. I know this. I'll even stand in the middle of the aisle and calculate in my head the value, ounces to pennies, of the new 8 oz cans to the 12 oz cans to the plastic bottles, weighing the recloseable top over....
well, you get the picture.

I am their target audience. If it is cute, I will buy it. Mini cans/bottles, 100 Calorie Packs, mini-muffins. At least I recognize my weakness for all things cute. Which means once I have kids, I'm so screwed. Not only will I be powerless to deny their every whim, they'll probably be caffeine addicts at birth.

Definitely Not a Sexy Post

If you are under the misguided impression that your voice does not cause dogs and small children to scratch at their ears in pain, do not use a digital recorder to tape yourself singing in the car. It seems like fun at the time, but it will take more than a fifth of whiskey to calm you down when you realize you sound like William Hung's long lost southern cousin.

I'm finally feeling better. The only sign I was ever sick? That Cough. You know the one, it lingers for months, years even. Which I can deal with, except, well, I inherited my families cough. Passed down from generation to generation, evident even as a toddler, The Cough is really a homing device. It's like a game of Marco Polo at my work, they simply follow the sound of my barking. And it's not just any cough. I liken it to a dying sea lion, or at the very least a Great Dane with emphysema. As a kid, when the family was sick together, I worried the neighbors would call the authorities, certain we had an illegal kennel set up in our house.

If I had been alone in the theater....

Christian Bale will always be my Batman. Sorry Michael, Val and George, that's just the way it is. I've always loved Christian Bale, and yes, I had a picture of him in my locker, a shot from Little Women. I would have put up Gabriel Byrne too, but for some reason Bop and Seventeen did not deem a 40+ year old man suitable high school locker pin-up material. Little do they know.

I loved Batman Begins. It was intricate and it was fun. What more could you ask for? And the push-up scene (you know the one) was near about worth the price of admission. If you haven't seen it yet, you gotta go. Katie Holmes wasn't bad either, and often the supporting characters were more interesting than Bruce Wayne. And for once I found the villain and the source of terror to be truly frightening. Not being a big superhero genre kind of gal, I think I will definitely pick Batman as my fav. Although for alter-ego, it's gotta be Clark Kent; boyish charm, glasses, a newspaper man....

::fanning self::
I should probably end this post now, huh?

5 Reasons Why My Dad Rocked

He was the greatest southern gentleman pimp daddy ever.
(Oh yes, quite the ladies man, practically oozed charm, and he drove the pimpmobile.)

He drove Elvis to buy a Cadillac.
(Straight from a concert to the dealership, 1956. It could be a tall tale, but I like to believe it.)

He knew George Jones.
(Although true, I wouldn't bet money on George remembering much these days, all things considered.)

He wrote songs, including this one.
(Now, one reason he didn't rock - he sold ALL the rights. Don't do that. Johnny Cash recorded, as did Emmylou Harris and others, but Dad gets no credit. Goober.)

He was wrapped around my little finger.
(But hey, it was mutual.)

This is the 5th Father's Day I didn't have to buy a shirt.
I really miss that.


Happy Father's Day to all the Dads out there.
Have you ever noticed Dads are sexy? Not your own per se, but like the guy at the grocery store making the shopping cart do wheelies to entertain his kids.
Maybe it's just a phase I'm going through....

Crazy Is As Crazy Does

The problem with OCD.... HaHaHa - THE problem?! HaHaHa!!!

::ahem::

The problem with OCD is it takes a lot of time to be crazy. I don't have a lot of time, I'm usually running late as it is, and yet my crazy ass wants to take 30 minutes to check the locks and the stove. And forget getting up earlier or allowing time for the craziness, oh no. Either I fill the extra allotted time with an unnecessary activity like dusting, or I just find something else to check, making my to-check list even longer. So I've been trying not to give myself any extra crazy time, which means I'm late to work. I'm running out of excuses to cover up. I'm down to my Grandma got runned over by a reindeer.

So you've seen Monk and now you imagine me jumping over cracks in the sidewalk and sorting my M&Ms by color and using my elbows to open doors. There are various types of Obsessive Compulsive symptoms. As indicated above, I'm a Checker. My obsessions I'll keep to myself thank you. And for even more fun, take one of these quizzes and see if we can share a bunk in the loony bin!

My Mother is a Hoarder. Completely different from me. I keep things b/c I'm lazy, she thinks she'll really find a use for that old margarine tub from 1988. However, I just finished writing my Mother a thank you email. While visiting last March, she came out of the bathroom and informed me she had put a spare roll of toilet tissue under the sink. She was concerned because she obviously went wrong somewhere; how could she raise a daughter that didn't have a hidden emergency roll of tissue?

So, another thanks to Mom.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to run to Target.

Earthquake? Check!

It's taken 6 years, but I've finally felt an earthquake.
I know, it doesn't seem possible, but in all the time I've been in California, I've never knowingly felt an earthquake until this week. The list of things to do before I leave the state is one item shorter.

Sincerely Yours

If I wrote a sincere post, would you still read me tomorrow?

I've just spent the past two hours reading blogs and making comments. Way better than reality tv, more entertaining than columns in the newspaper.

After reading several great, open, honest, often touchingly funny blogs, I thought "I should write a sincere post tonight. None of this wannabe amusing stuff, but something heartfelt."
But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not exactly.

I'm so tired of worrying about what people think of me. Worrying about the locks on the doors, the pressure of my tires, and I'm so sick of worrying about the things I cannot change. That's all I've done my whole life - worry. There are nights I feel 80 years old and just so damn sad about things. I need an off switch.

Maybe if this book had been around when I was young, I'd be a little different today.

I might even dance with the blinds open.

I'll Dance With You Evander!

Check it out, even more linking to the right!
Now I must learn how to incorporate pictures into my posts. Takes up more room and considering the past few days, I'm all for that.

May marks the end of the TV season for fall programming. Usually. There are the mid-season shows, and then the endless repeats. I did pretty well this year, finding only a handful of shows to follow on a regular basis. With the end of Alias last month I thought my Wednesday nights would be free. Tonight however I watched 3 straight hours of tv, not including the Simpsons repeat at 6 and Girlmore Girls repeat at 5pm. That's technically evening right?

I'm doomed.

From 8 - 10 I watched Dancing with the Stars. I feel no personal shame or guilt in this. I'm convinced in a past life I did ballroom dancing, followed by a short stint as a breakdancer. I want nothing more than to run out and sign up for dance lessons tomorrow. Those skimpy ass outfits and lack of partner being the only things keeping me from my dream. I twirled around my living room and did kicks and booty shakes during commercials. I'm over 21, the blinds were drawn, and I can shake my ass all I want.

Then on FX at 10 was Morgan Spurlock's 30 Days. I loved Super Size Me, and even swore off fast food for 3 weeks after viewing it. For a girl whose mother was convinced her little girl would grow up to be a Chicken McNuggett, that's saying something, sadly enough.

I enjoyed the investigative report on life as a minimum wage earner, as a spectator, not a participant. I've done the low pay/bus catching thing before, but I shared a no-bedroom efficiency with 2 other people while doing it. At least Morgan and his fiance Alex had a bedroom! And a shower. All we had was a tub, and while that sounds quite luxurious, try running a bath every morning at 5 am so you can catch your bus.

And using a pet shampoo hose to wash your hair.

Potpourri

A collection of randomness, in which I practice linking:

I knew it!
William Fichtner (recently of Empire Falls) was the guy in Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time video! Heard the song on the radio today and brain put two and two together to give me yet another useless piece of information to store.

So, you know when you're eating something, say, Oreos for example, and you offer some to your friend/neighbor/lover/dog/whatever, and they decline because they just aren't an Oreo kind of person? Then you put the Mint 'nCreme Oreos in the fridge, because they are ever so tasty when chilled, and you go to work, because that's what you do. And you come home, and the Oreos are GONE, and no one is awake to bitch slap for eating your tasty treat after a long ass day. That is vair vair annoying.

I may not have lived here very long, but even I know this: Do not build your house on a hill people. Especially not the slippery slopes of Southern California. No, it's not just the jealousy talking. I just can't imagine sinking over a million dollars into a house and building it in a location that is prone to destroying your hopes and dreams. And then, doing it TWICE. Who rebuilds in the same location as the previous near-death experience? I feel bad for them and hope everything is ok, but I still just don't understand.

Did your mom ever throw a Tupperware party? I think mine did once, against her will. Large families will do that to you. I wonder how the Tupperware company is doing? I'd like to see their sales figures, maybe a pie chart or two. What has made me wonder about the financial state of a plastics product company?
Driving home last night with a bag full of dirty disposable food containers from last week's lunches, knowing at least half of them will end up in the trash. I know, I know. Wasteful. But seriously, at 4 for $2, it's too easy. Now Tupperware is expensive, and worthy of soak time in the sink. There's a point at which the cheapy stuff just doesn't come clean anymore and it's time to recycle.

I think the execs should consider Tupperware for the party crowd!

Side Effects May Occur

I've started 3 different posts tonight, but it's no use. I've got Sudafed in my system and cannot be held responsible for my thoughts and actions. I wrote about Tupperware, Oreo thievery and houses sliding down hills. If any of it makes sense tomorrow I might post one, but really, how likely is that?

Instead I'm going to go check out your blog! And yours! Yours too! Well yours if you've left a comment so I can find my way to it. And a few of you who don't read my blog, but I found yours all on my own. Of course you won't know I'm reading it, unless I comment, but that's besides the point.

See, Sudafed, makes me loopy as all hell, wired and tired, it's just not right. The other great side effect: loss of appetite! Whoo hoo!

Maybe I'm allergic to my work. Wonder if my insurance covers that?

Right two three, Left two three

I should write a post.
Instead, I will put on some Rat Pack music and dance around my living room in a very cruise-ship commercial fashion.

Little Ball of Fluff!

I want a PUPPY!!!

Apparently I have masochistic tendencies; I watch Animal Planet, even tho I cannot have a dog in my current home. I would be lying if I said I didn't whimper a little when a cute little ball of fluff is shown frolicking in a yard or playing with a chew toy.

I want a pet so bad, I'm willing to forgo air conditioning in my next home if it means I can have one. (well... maybe.)

I should have a job working with animals, or at least volunteer somewhere. But if I worked at a shelter I'd take them all home. I couldn't be a foster parent for a seeing eye dog because then you have to give them up after a year to be trained. If I was a vet, I could not handle all the sick animals or the possibility of not saving one.

I simply must move to a place that has the good sense to allow pets, that's all there is to it.

Shh! Don't tell The Man

My 71 year old grandmother is getting married tomorrow, to a 62 year old man, ooh la la. Married in the eyes of the Lord, not in the eyes of Social Security. If they were invited, their wedding present would include the deduction of about $700 from her monthly income. Apparently, if you are old and collect social security, you need to be single in order to live comfortably. You know, with a roof over your head and maybe some running water.

No, it's not a legal marriage, but rather one of those new fangled commitment ceremonies. They feel guilty about shacking up and sleeping together. I had to laugh at that one; helped keep the mental images away.

I want to say "You Go Grandma!" and give her a high-five. Gotta give the lady credit for being able to snag a younger man. We'll see how I feel when I'm her age. I'd worry about him being a gold-digger if she had any. They are both aging, both have terminal illnesses and enjoy each other's company. More power to them.

As long as I don't have to call him Grandpa.

What's in a name?

I'm going to be a tropical storm this season! Maybe even a hurricane!
Hopefully I do not cause too much grief; my middle name was retired in 2001 and will be replaced. That's what happens when you've killed too many people and racked up millions of dollars in damages, they retire you.

Wondering if your name is on the list? (probably not.)
Curious about the origin of hurricane names? (no? fine then.)

I don't want to make light of hurricane season. My family lives in Florida and last season was a mix of frustration and relief at not being there with them as 4 hurricanes hit the state. They had hurricane parties, which was a nice name for sitting in the dark and the heat, huddled in the walk-in closet at times.
(why do I want to move back there?)

I will say this: at least with a hurricane, you know it's coming.
Earthquake? Not so much.
Tornado? Nope.
Tsunami? Hah.
Blizzard? Ok, a little bit.
Volcanic explosion? I don't even want to think about lava.

I know it's all about preparedness, but is there really any safe place to live? No matter which pocket of the country you set up camp, Mother Nature is gonna get pissy. Maybe the desert? Wait, there are microbursts, not to mention the heat. But sure, the desert, if you want to keep needlenose pliers in your house to snatch up the scorpions before they sting your children!

Escape the bad weather, worry about the creepy crawlies.

A Guru of My Very Own

Well, I talked to the boss lady today, unfortunately to no avail. She kept feeding me some crap about responsibility and taking care of your people first. What about me?! What about my needs?! What about Chapelle's Show and that blueberry muffin mix just begging to be whipped up into some sweet, just-like-homemade goodness?!
(should I be concerned that I am referring to a fake conversation with myself in the third person, while using dueling punctuation marks?!)

There are days when being salary blows.
And then there are MONTHS when it does just that, non-stop.
Wah. I know, I'll quite whining now.

As I've mentioned in a previous infomercial for Song, I fly often enough to remember which terminals have what shops and which flight attendants have recently changed their hairstyle. People complain, and rightly so, about the sardine can experience of flying. Waiting at the airport, the fees, the security checks, I'm fine with all that, I've got a strategy and I use it. But the actual flight itself can bring about fits of rage to rival anything on the road. And to me a lot of that anger is due to being able to tell if the guy next to you in 22B used fabric softener or not as his pants rub against you every time he shifts in his seat to call for another blankie.

There may not be a science to picking a seat on a plane, but there is help. Use Seat Guru to help you better understand plane configurations and limitations. Learn about pitch and width, emergency exits and tv monitors. This is my new favorite site, and if that makes my internet entertainment a little sad, so be it.

Belittle It, Just a Little Bit

I'm trying to blog every day, get into the habit of writing regularly. I want to say "even if it is just on my blog" but that seems mean, and I don't want to belittle it. (even tho, let's face it, it is just my blog, not the next Pulitzer or Da Vinci Code)

Maybe there should be a Da Vinci Code Award for Excellence in the Area of In Your Face Publicity and Word of Mouth Sales.
(fit that onto a plaque)
It's not on Harry Potter's level, but still impressive in it's sheer will, clinging to the bestseller lists like (insert favorite plastic surgery victim name here) to her youth.

Did you like The Da Vinci Code? (did you read it?) At first I was all about it; I had an ARC a month before it came out, and devoured it in two days. Now I feel kind of over it, which is unfortunate, but that's what complete social saturation will do for you. It was a fun read, and no, I won't go into the religion stuff. As for the movie, every single actor/actress in there is excellent. Besides, who can resist a movie with Amelie in it? Audrey Tautou is just so darn cute.

Hmm.... I was going to fill up space talking about a new site I found, but I think this is good enough for tonight. I'll save the link for another day. I have to be at work in 8 hours. Who makes these schedules? Oh, yes, that would be me. I should really talk to myself about these hours I've been working. Clearly being overworked and overtired is what made me write that title up there. Yeah, that's it....

If we had a peephole, this never would have happened!

We call our landlord The Dude, and he's stopping by tomorrow. With him will be a handyman of his choosing, hopefully one who can fix the garbage disposal. Last time the guy who came to fix the dishwasher didn't know how.

Normally I like to be present when people come traipsing through my home. However, due to an unfortunate bathrobe incident last year, I'm perfectly willing to work a late shift tomorrow in order to avoid any further suggestive eyebrow quirking.

I should be doing the dishes, hiding the porn, vacuuming - you know, all the things you do before the landlord visits. Perhaps less common is cleaning off the shower walls which are covered in tub crayon writing. (what? you thought I was going to say something gross was on the shower walls? there probably is, but it's hiding under blue and green scribbles.)

I have received several lovely gifts in the past month, including said crayons, a digital recorder and a whiteboard. All of these are to encourage me in my writing. With nothing to distract me, shower time and bed time result in a flurry of ideas and notes and snippets of dialouge. The ever-growing pile of post-its and old receipts with chickenscratch can now be replaced. Of course I still have to actually put all these notes together; easier said then done.

Maybe I should leave a note on the whiteboard for The Dude and see if he replies.

"While you're here, maybe you could fix the leaking window you promised to in JANUARY."
"How many landlords does it take to set the timer for the carport lights?"
"Ever heard of a Nanny Cam?"
"Whatever you do, don't open the third drawer from the right!"

Scary Thoughts

Somewhere in the world there is a video tape of myself and several family members lip-synching and pretend-instrument playing to Three Dog Night's Joy to the World.
And I'm wearing a straw hat.

Subliminal Tactics

I'm not sure exactly what I'm being programmed for, but clearly The Travel Channel, HGTV, and The Weather Channel are using subliminal tactics to prep me for some sort of active duty in the near future. How else can I explain my inability to change the channel during Storm Week or RV Crazy?

I'm feeling a tug of war between Travel and HGTV. Sip girlie frozen concoctions on the sunny shores of Trunk Bay or let complete strangers redecorate my living room? I'm not sure I could afford to pay a 5 year old to redecorate, let alone finance a trip to the Virgin Islands. Maybe I could invest in one of those little Teardrop Trailers, then I could travel as I please, no decorating (or rent) required.

I've pretty much outed myself as a completely domesticated, boring creature haven't I?

Obviously what I meant was I've been watching E! so much that I simply have to Go Wild! on the Riviera and hopefully bump into the host from Girls Gone Wild and finally get my big break in the direct-to-video biz! I knew these implants would pay for themselves one day....

Blame the Planetary Alignment

General Daily Overview
The Moon remains in sensible Taurus today, soothing our weary nerves. We've survived a high-tension storm over the past few weeks. Now we are moving through a stabilizing phase as energetic Mars harmonizes with conservative Saturn. Ambitions lead our actions and organizational skills serve us well. We may, however, still encounter some communication static as we stand in the verbal crossfire of Mercury and Uranus. To relieve pressure from misunderstandings or disagreements, we'll need to convert our emotions, especially anger, into tangible work.

If I would just read my horoscope at the beginning of the day, rather than the end, my life would be so much easier. Plus I wouldn't have to use Mother Nature as a scapegoat....

A Little Angry and Hopped Up On Chocolate

I've come to the conclusion that my local oldies station (or let's face it, Clear Channel) is being kept by The Beatles. Not a holiday weekend goes by that there isn't a Beatles Tribute. No Sunday morning can be deemed holy without a Magical Mystery Hour. Now, there are a lot of Beatles fans. A LOT. I like the Beatles, I own some stuff, I appreciate them. But I'm sick of having them shoved down my throat. Back off and play some Elvis will ya?

I'm not a big milk drinker, don't drain the bowl after my cereal nor require a glass of milk to make a complete breakfast. However, the depletion of a gallon of milk is cause for celebration. The last glass from the container brings forth the promise of.... Milky Bubbles. The last little bit you can dribble out of the bottle is nothing short of frothy perfection. Makes me want to bake some brownies. Which I did. And ate for dinner.

If you park so closely to the person next to you that technically you are in their spot and there is less than 2 inches between your vehicle and theirs.... you are a very bad parker and should be punished. Do not make me enter my car from the passenger side and crawl in the most undignified way possible across the front seat in order to leave the parking lot. I will write down your license plate number and find varied uses for the information.

And oh my lan, would you, you as in every cable channel ever, STOP playing that damn beepbeep.com commercial! PLEASE!

20/20 is overrated

I don't know.... I talked someone into showing me how to put a picture up here, but now I'm not so sure about my choice. I was going for realistic but not too recognizable, so a half-face shot seemed to fit, but now I wonder if it comes across as wannabe hoochie. Please note that says wannabe; I have no grand delusions here folks, the girls just aren't that big. Oh well, whatever.

At least he gave me the Photoshop treatment first; a little blur and some angled brushstrokes fixed me right up. It is my theory that the world looks better with 20/60 vision. Just a little fuzzy, just blurry enough to smooth out the edges and erase some natural imperfections. Same goes with the after-shower look. Everyone looks good in a foggy mirror with a towel and skin still slightly flushed from the hot water. Like makeup, it never lasts long enough.
What does?

New Plum 6/21

Have you flown on Song before? They are limited in their destinations, but if you're lucky enough to be headed to one of them, use Song. Excellent service and cheaper than a lot of airlines. They have comfy seats with personal screens to view Dish Network Satellite TV or listen to a wide variety of cds. There are also movies and games for pay, or a free trivia game to play against other passengers. True, the food is a pay service, but the drinks are free and you can always pack a little snack for yourself ahead of time. A great airline, especially if you fly from coast to coast. Any airline that can make a 5+ hour flight better is worth every penny.

(infomercial over, promise)

Just last week, while on a flight back from Florida, I was flipping through the 24 channels available. (better than some hotel rooms) I landed on Dog: Bounty Hunter. I won't call it a guilty pleasure, I don't watch it enough for that. But if I come across it I'll watch. And no, my viewing is not at all related to my love for Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series. That's on a whole other level. But it's definitely fun to watch them hunt down a bail jumper and then offer her some watermelon. They're just "good people" as my family would say. And they have some crazy ass hair, not to mention Beth's gravity-defying chest.

A non-stop flight from FL to CA is long, so even if I have no need, I will que up with everyone else for the bathroom, just to stretch my legs. As I walked back to my seat I counted no less than 9 other tvs tuned to Dog. We should have formed a group in the back of the plane and had a little party. Who knew? It airs on A&E.