I'll Tumble 4 Ya

I don't know why, but I'm absolutely shocked about David Carradine. He killed Bill! Sorry. But why does it seem hanging is so popular among male suicides? That can't be pleasant at all. And seriously, why would anyone choose this way to go? I've never been suicidal (yet), but I would think pills or pulling a Cobain would be much less torturous. Why the hell am I talking about this still?

If you're bored like me and ever doubted text messenging didn't play a valuable role in our society today, you just have to take a look at this. Some of them are so raunchy and wrong, I easily could've said them myself.
Example:

(510): I woke up to him trying to put his dick in my mouth. When I asked him what he was doing he said he was trying to make me stop snoring...

or

(508): dude, the building's fire alarm was going off for over an hour last night and you didn't move
(617): that's ok, when I'm passed out drunk I'm impervious to flame

one more:

(518): I am at the point in my high where i now know/understand chinese

I'm in love with a website. Warning though; it's a potential time-suck. I spent most of the work day the other day reading until my eyes bled. Totally worth it.

Yeah, work has slowed down for me quite a bit, can you tell? I have a few trainings this month, but after that it's pretty much a two-month lull in between contract years, a lovely time in which we get to tie up loose ends, prepare for the upcoming year as much as is possible and most importantly, use some vacation time. I'm starting to try to narrow down when I might make the Florida run; the week leading up to, or else the one after July 4th are looking like the winners so far. I'm having what almost feels like a physical craving to see and spend some quality time with my loved ones.

I'm pretty sure while maybe not technically depressed right now, (Or hell, maybe I am; I'm not a fucking doctor) I'm suffering from a minor to maybe severe endorphin deficiency. I'm not sitting in a dark corner crying and sucking my thumb, but I don't feel my usual enthusiasm for things. Like breathing. Just kidding. Not really. So beyond mood-altering drugs which aren't readily available and too much of a hassle to try and get, I'm trying to do things to trigger some happies. Watching comedy. Reading David Sedaris. Planning a trip. Freaking exercising. Reading a stupidly funny new website - hey, whatever works, right? Right.

One thing I'm pretty thankful for - my roots are like two and a half inches grown out and they're still dark brown instead of the gray I was picturing. Pretty rad.

Other than that, Zzzzzz...

God, the child support alone

'Jon & Kate Plus 8' Dad's Affair Confirmed


Took a little gossip break a little while ago (I enjoy spending my lunch hour doing productive and useful things) and ran across the above news. Now I know logically this should not have even caught my attention, let alone bother me as much as it does. But I always aim to be honest here.

This saddens me. I'm not a fanatic for the show but there were a few months there where I did get into it for awhile and would watch a few episodes here and there, particularly on a boring Saturday night. Especially after I started with the fertility crap - then all fertility stories and parents-of-multiples suddenly were fascinating to me. It didn't take long for my interest to fade, mostly due to all the hype it started getting (I like to jump on bandwagons either before or long after everybody else has) and also because I have the attention span of an tse tse fly right now.

But I couldn't help having a little flashback reading about this. Say Jon really is having an affair. Or hey, say he isn't, but is just acting REALLY stupid right now, because for chrissakes it's not good form to be seen hanging out with young women (multiple times) in the middle of the night sans your wife. Either way. I thought about my own marital crisis and how I would've felt had I woken up one morning in the middle of all the hell to see Brian's and the Harpy's face splashed all over the magazines. And the internet. Even CNN did a story on this I think. With someone hiding outside my house waiting for me to appear (all sad and ugly and no make-up) so they could take my picture and ask me idiotic questions like "How do you feel about your husband's affair?"

Whether or not Kate is truly the bitch she seems to be, this isn't what she deserves. Well, I guess you could argue that all fame whores deserve to have their bidness spread everywhere, but I just remember saying back then "I wouldn't wish this pain on anyone. Well, maybe Osama Bin Laden, but no one else." I still mean that. The pain of dealing with your spouse having an affair (whether or not you're also having one) is horrific; to me it ranked pretty close up there with losing my dad. And that was without the entire world knowing, talking about it, and sharing their stupid opinions about it.

And we didn't have eight kids when we went through it. Ugh, those poor kids.

I received a comment the other day from someone who'd just read all my posts about the separation and she told me I left her hanging and she needed to read the ending. Leave it to me to give everything I do my whole 95%. I have no excuse, except that I've always been really bad with the follow-through; just watch my golf swing if you don't believe me. But she's right and here soon I'm going to write the last part of it and get it over with. It's the least I can do for Jon and Kate.

I wonder if TLC is going to have a new show out this Fall: Jon Minus Nine.
Too soon?

Keep feeling fascination

Why didn't anybody tell me my boyfriend is in the new Wolverine movie?

It's Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights! This is the man (boy) who has replaced Jim from The Office as my number one TV boyfriend but I don't know much about him surprisingly. As if Hugh Jackman's torso wasn't enough of a motivator. We may be back at the movies sooner than I thought. Rowr! And just in time to make with all the sex again too - tres convenient.

Which reminds me. Annette sent me an article the other day about how Hugh Jackman's wife sometimes makes him wear the Wolverine costume when they do it. Now there's a woman after my own heart. I've often lamented (hey!) Brian's refusals over the years to be Darth Vader, Brett Favre (all he'd need there would be a simple GB helmet), Spiderman, Batman and Captain Jack Sparrow. I mean really; I don't think it's asking too much. Then again, I've never actually bought him a costume to wear and I know half his problem is he has a shopping phobia, so maybe I need to look into that a little more. Either way - Hugh Jackman's wife = my new hero(ine).

Here are two things currently making me feel old (in addition to all the usual things): Grace and my 23rd anniversary of friendship is tomorrow (we use the first time we went out together to mark the date) and her daughter just made it on the high school cheerleading team for next year. This is the same kid who was JUST BORN. Or so it feels like. Holy hell. We always joked by the time I had a kid Elizabeth would be old enough to babysit, but now it's more like she's old enough to be its mother. Not even close to funny. But technically true. I predicted she would be a cheerleader for our alma mater; it wasn't hard to imagine since she's been involved with it since the time she was four years old. The first and only cheerleader I've ever loved.

So...what else. Uh, oh yeah. Brian, who is in charge of giving me my fertility medicine shots (I do not stick myself with needles; it's a personal choice), was all ready for me yesterday afternoon, saying cheerfully "Isn't it time for your shot?" Why yes honey, how strangely responsible of you to remember. I stand there all smiley, thinking how thoughtful he really is. He opens the fridge where it is always stored. And then he asks me where it is. (Insert needle-scratching-across-record sound)Me: "Why are you asking ME where it is; I don't touch it, that's your job, where is it, what the fuck, aaaaggghhhh!" Or something like that. Turns out he had left it out on the dining room table last night after shooting me up. Which should tell you the state of the table that we didn't notice the bright red hazmat container, needles and medicine. He started making apologetic noises as I dialed the on-call nurse. Got her on the phone and quickly and panicky explained the dilemma to her. At the end of my rant I added, "I'm going to kill my husband; this is his fault." She laughed and said "Honey, you're fine. Take your shot now and put the medicine back into the refrigerator. Don't kill your husband yet; we still need him for the process. You can do that afterwards." I think more medical people need to get a sense of humor. It helps.

Glad for the end of this work week; it's been about as much fun as a punch in the throat. The next IUI is either happening Monday or Tuesday; we won't know until the follicles get measured Sunday morning - I'm hoping for Monday, but it's not up to me. I'm not even going to speculate what my mental state is going to be like after this one. I do know I have lots of fun questions for the doctor though. Things he is likely not able to answer, but damn it, I'm asking him anyway. Starting off with WHAT IS THE MAJOR MALFUNCTION, NUMBNUTS? (Anyone else a Full Metal Jacket fan? I love that movie.)

That's all for now.

Fight the power.

Zoo, almost

I think without realizing it, for the last few weeks I've been somewhat hermatizing (not a word but I'm using it anyway) myself. I've avoided seeing his family who were up visiting from Florida. I've avoided the redneck friends. I've made no effort to see any of our other friends. Books. I've spent a lot of time with books this month because you don't have to make conversation with them if you dont' want to and they don't care at all what kind of mood you're in or if you've put any make-up on. (See why I don't mind the rule about ending sentences with prepositions; I do it all the time. Because I'm the grammatical gangster.)

I wouldn't classify this as depression, per se; I've been fairly good company for myself. Yes, I may have slept a little more than what would may be considered normal lately, but whatever. I think I've just been wanting some quiet while I waited out this latest two-week period between the last procedure and taking another test. I'm not excitedly waiting to take the test this time and as a matter of fact, I don't think I'm even buying it until the day comes and goes that my period should arrive. If that scenario even happens. While the thought of getting my period again this month is utterly putrid, the thought of peeing on another stick only to see one line show up is just abhorent.

That day is arriving quickly and just thinking about it makes me break out in the cold sweats and have heart palpitations. And that's always fun. Because this would be strike two and the way this particular office works is that after strike three, you're out. Out of luck, that is. They say if three inseminations haven't worked, odds are pretty high it's not going to, and I can certainly buy that. What would happen then is we'd discuss other options, most likely IVF. I don't even want to think that far ahead however; the financial aspect of it is the hurdle I haven't figured out how we'd jump over yet.

But yesterday was a beautiful day and I woke up knowing if I didn't get out of the house for awhile, I'd start to become foul. It's funny that Laura posted yesterday about feeling poopy and how she was going to work through it by doing productive things around the house - usually that strategy works for me as well, but I think I've been in the house waaay too much recently.

I wrote Brian a note and stuck it to the bathroom mirror with a gorilla sticker "Please take me to the zoo today." When he got up a few minutes later and went to the bathroom, I heard him laugh and knew my plan worked. I've been wanting to go; the Riverbanks Zoo is rated pretty highly as far as zoos go (one of the best in the Southeast they claim), it's not far from here, it's not too expensive and like I said, the weather was the stuff my weather dreams are made of. (Preposition! Sorry.)

We set off happily, camera in tow. I babbled excitedly about how we hadn't been there in almost ten years, how I couldn't wait to see the Silverback gorilla and how the botanical gardens were probably ridiculously gorgeous right now. As we approached the zoo exit, we noticed traffic was getting thicker. As we looked at the exit ramp and the overpass leading to the zoo entrance, we noticed cars were stopped. All in the direction of the zoo. He looked at me and I just said "No." We got off the exit and headed in the other direction, wanting to get away from that clusterfuck as quickly as possible.

What I don't get is that I checked the website that morning to see if anything was going on that day, because I know sometimes they have large-ish events. Boo at the Zoo for Halloween and Lights Before Christmas, etc. The site allows you to click on the date of the month you want to visit and let's you see if anything is happening - which I did and it wasn't. Obviously SOMETHING was happening, though; I'm sure I'll read about it in the paper today.

I was sad. I didn't want to go back home yet. I had flashbacks to when we were headed to Disney World once when I was a wee lass and the interstate was backed up for miles with rabid tourists all clamoring to get in at the same time and my dad saying he was very sorry but we'd have to go to Sea World instead. Sea World? I'm sorry - marine life is no substitute for the mighty Mouse. Not when you're ten anyway.

We started throwing out ideas and finally he said, Want to see a movie? I answered with Crank 2 just came out. He said Hell yes, that's perfect! Then fate intervened, I guess to make up for the previous debacle. We got a newspaper and I saw that the movie was playing at the theater that's within walking distance of our neighborhood and the next showing was twenty minutes from right then. We walked in just in time for my favorite part, the previews.

So while it was disappointing I didn't get to see any animals, it turns out Jason Statham IS an acceptable substitute, because the man certainly brings out the animal in me:

The movie was just as absurd as the first one, but take a gander at that specimen above - do you think that bothered me? Ha!

And now, another weekend is coming to a close already. Sheesh.

April Foolish

I've been sitting here trying to think up some funny April Fool's joke, but I'm having problems thinking of anything that doesn't involve a bodily function (as is my way), and nothing is even sounding funny to me, so screw it. I feel all jinxy right now anyway, so saying something like "I just pooped my pants!" even if it's followed by a sheepish "Naw, April Fool!" I'd be scared the rest of the day of pooping in my pants.

My dad LOVED this holiday and in particular having me be the sole recipient of his jokes. Every year it was something: rigging my bathroom with boobytraps: a cup of water falling on my head when I opened the door, Saran wrap on the toilet seat, no water coming out of the faucet and "The Fool Was Here" written in soap all over the mirror. That was funny. Once he hid my car; parked it around the back of the house so that when I walked out to go to school, I had a heart attack, while he watched from the front window laughing his ass off. Even when I was on vacation away from home once he packed a bunch of plastic spiders in my suitcase and coordinated it with my boyfriend at the time to have it scare me on April 1st. I'll admit it - I miss that a lot. All those things were good, but one year he lost his mind and went to the extreme.

I was eleven years old and completely obsessed with The Dukes of Hazzard. My sister and cousins will verify this if you have any doubts. Posters - not only all over my bedroom, but also all over my bunk bed area in our motorhome. Teen magazine collages abounded. Every Friday night at 8:00 without fail, was the highlight of my week and I was not to be interrupted by anyone (not much has changed there, but at least now there are dvr's). I was all about Bo in particular, but loved them all; that show was my everything. We still had antenna then and only got reception on the three main networks, which was jolly good by me, as long as CBS was one of them. One dark sad night a train went by just as the show was starting, we lost reception and couldn't get it back for hours. Unexplained to this day and also obviously very scarring to me, since I remember it.

We lived in Wildwood, Florida at the time and my dad was the golf pro at the local country club. Someone passed the information along that some relatives of Tom Wopat, the guy who played Luke Duke, were members of our club and lived nearby. It was rumored that Tom himself also had some property and a house there and I don't remember how but we did end up confirming that was true. Strangely a few years later when we lived thirty miles west in Inverness, we met the guy who played Roscoe P. Coaltraine (and the dog who played his hound dog Flash who was also his dog in real life but who was a girl dog) who had a house THERE. I don't know what it was about small little bumpkin Florida towns and the cast of that show, but apparently they loved the area for whatever reason.

Did you know John Travolta has a house in Ocala, right there as well? That has absolutely nothing to do with this story, but it just surprises me so many of my celebrity boyfriends lived so damn close by yet we never met and had the romantic times I dreamed about. Sucks.

Anyway. A few days before April Fool's, Dad started really bringing up the whole Luke Duke thing, saying we'd have to ride around and see if we could find his house (stalkers!) or maybe see if he liked golf and give him a free round, etc. Assuring that I was in a highly agitated state, right up until the day I got home from school and my mom told me my dad had a surprise for me. Hmm? Yes. She told me she wasn't sure, but she thought my dad might have found Luke and was maybe bringing him to our house?

Wait, WHAT?

She said, "Now don't get too excited, Daddy's just going to try." Too excited? Oh, but it was already well past that point. I did what I always do in those situations and went straight to the toilet. Then after that I went directly to my room and shut and locked the door. I had to get a grip on all this somehow, because I was straight losing my shit. (Literally)

Then I heard it. Remember the Dukes' car, the General Lee? Of course you do. Remember how the car horn played "Dixie?" That was the sound I was currently hearing and it was coming from my very own driveway. I don't think I actually shit in my pants, but I came pretty damn close. I know I made some high pitched squealing sounds. Then I dove into my closet and slammed the door shut, refusing to come out. I'd like to think I've matured and could handle something like that better nowadays, but I wouldn't bet the farm on it.

I don't remember how, but they finally got me to come out. My dad was pretty much crying he was laughing so hard. He led me outside to the driveway, where the only car there was his little red Fiat. Wha? He leaned in the window and beeped the horn. And it played "Dixie" again. He spent $80 (and remember this is 1979 or thereabouts; that was a good amount of money back then, at least for our family) to get this horn and have someone hook it up to his car, all for a joke on me. The horn played something like a hundred different songs, but he bought it for one song. You would have thought I'd be mad at him for not delivering Luke Duke to me, but actually all I felt was relief. As much as I loved those Duke boys, I guess that love had to be from afar for me to be able to deal with it.

My dad was so awesome. He got the biggest kick out of making me laugh. I miss the hell out of him.

I didn't mean to make so many references about pooping in pants. I'll try to avoid that going forward.

Pondering

Painful zit locations: Inside the nose, under an eyebrow. Currently l have them in both places and what are the odds of that? I thought for one quick minute about putting zit medicine in my nose but then I remembered I haven’t had any zit medicine since 1989.

A fun game I’ve been playing lately in my head is thinking “I pity the fool,” and applying it to whenever I have an exchange with someone. As in, “Kim, will you be available for a short meeting next Wednesday?” Me (in my head): “I pity the fool who asks me to go to a meeting.” It’s fun times. In my head. I pity the fool who’s in my head.

Not that I really want to, but sometimes I think it would be fun to live in an apartment again. Not like the kinds I’ve lived in before per se, which were mostly glorified more expensive dorm rooms, but one of those long-term deals, where it seems like you’re living in a house you can decorate and do whatever to. It would also have to have some sort of outdoor space, preferably a flower and plant-laden terrace. Apartments are so great for social observances, what with the living in awkwardly close quarters with a wide variety of total strangers. I can practice my people wondering with the neighbors I have now, especially now that everyone and their brother has taken to walking their dogs the same time I do (I’ll be switching it up and going in the morning for the next few days, because all the barking and leash pulling is pretty annoying), but it’s not quite the same thing. I don’t miss the limited parking and nocturnal loudness.

Speaking of voyeurism. I really love my private office still and no longer feel guilty about working with my door shut. What I’ve found is that I like to work in complete silence, which I already knew. Low volume talk radio is acceptable sometimes, but music distracts me. Also, these walls are thin as shitwafers. I don’t try to eavesdrop, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. There’s this semi-annoying girl here who works in an office next door to mine. She must be newly out of school, because she still has the total sorority vibe going on, like ending every sentence as if she’s asking a question? Even things that are obviously not questions but declarative statements? And using “like” a lot (well, I do that too, so that’s cool) and that high-pitched squeaky voice…ugh. Today she must’ve been on a personal call (at least I hope so) because I overheard her say, “I don’t care what excuse he comes up with this time; he’ll be lucky if his stuff’s still INSIDE the house when he gets home!” Ooh, naughty fraternity boyfriend, what did you do wrong? It was awesome. I just have to remember when it comes to personal phone calls and bodily functions to try to keep it down.

Why you shouldn’t lie, reason number infinity: I had felt guilty for asking for time off a few weeks ago, even though I haven’t taken any significant days off since October (those Christmas weeks don’t count; everybody’s off) but instead of just putting in the leave request and leaving it at that, oh ho ho NOOO, I had to go and make up some vague Mother-related reason to my boss. IDIOT! Then of course I figured out I couldn’t go to Florida and I realized I couldn’t just forget about the time off I’d asked for, especially when my boss told me yesterday she hoped I had a good time in Florida! It was like some Mission Impossible shit gone wrong, only without the exploding gum. So now I’m taking Monday and Tuesday off for absolutely no reason whatsoever, except to save face. I have plenty of leave time built up so it’s not that big of a deal except I feel like an asshole for lying. I’m planning on doing some penance for it and using the next five days to do some productive house things. I’m still totally underachieving on the laundry front, so there’s no time like the present to catch up. Imagine how psyched I am about a vacation at home. Not even a little bit. Although time off of work is still pretty cool, so I’m sure I’ll be more on board with the idea by tonight or tomorrow.

Last night I came across the movie Rock Star playing on the annoying E channel (they love to throw in a long commercial break every time anything emotional is going on to totally ruin the mood). I doubt most people have seen or have the same fierce love I have for this 2001 Mark Wahlberg extravaganza, but it is one of my favorites. It was weird to see Jennifer Anniston again, back when she was still W.B. (With Brad) and no one could foresee the bleak future that was soon to be her love life. But really - anyone who still has a soft spot for 80’s hair metal would get a kick out of the movie, if for only the soundtrack. It’s kind of a lot like Boogie Nights except with rock & roll instead of porn and a much lesser caliber cast. Except Marky Mark, who I will love until the end of time. Say hello to your mutha for me, Mark. SNL joke, sorry.

I get pretty pro-plant at this time of year. How unoriginal of me. Usually what happens around now is all the plants get moved back outside (check) since if we do get another frost it would be mild enough for the plants to withstand as long as they’re under the porch roof – this is all except the spider plant that hangs in my kitchen window all year round to my daily delight. Usually we have a casualty or two and this year is no different, so I’ll need to replace the Hosta plant I became attached to. So we’ll go to Lowe’s or Home Depot and I’ll pick out the plant I need to replace plus one or two new ones and some other random things I can’t live without, like flowers or birdseed.

This year I’ve been thinking of adding some vegetables to the whole operation. I have pleasant memories of several vegetable gardens Delorme and I had shared and then just yesterday he even told me he was planting one again this year. Copycatting my memories! The best time ever was when we were being taunted by this varmint who kept tunneling through the garden eating and destroying our corn plants, ALWAYS AT NIGHT, THE SNEAKY BITCH! Delorme had recently gotten a handgun and was dying for a reason to use it, when one day he caught the little ratty mole thing and ran inside to get the gun. I got all excited and was like, “Let me do it! I want to shoot him for eating our corn!” He was very surprised by my bloodthirstiness but handed over the gun and I popped a cap in that little rat bastard (literally!) with one shot to the back of the head. That remains the only animal I’ve ever killed (we don’t discuss the cat I accidentally ran over in 1988 or the fish I accidentally stopped feeding) but damn was that shit fun. So yeah, I might be planting vegetables soon. It’s a commitment but I think I’m up for it. Who knows, I might even get to shoot something!

I pity the fool who steals from my garden.

Mystery! Intrigue! Laziness! Presents!

With the dog hurting himself last weekend, my dreams for a family roadtrip on my birthday were squashed, just like last year when I met my friend Jen in Savannah instead of going north to the mountains. Is there some evil force keeping me from seeing over an inch of snow? It's starting to look that way. But I didn't want to leave him with Brian's parents again (since-that's-who-he-was-with-when-he-hurt- himself-not-that-I'm-blaming-them-but-you-know-what-I-mean) and taking him with us was in the original plans but he's still limping, I decided staying home was the only option. It was still a nice day.

Brian had to work in the morning, so I slept late. He came back bearing gifts and those gifts were a bunch of dvd's he knew I'd love and a little exercise gadget I've been wanting, one of those calorie counter things I keep seeing on The Biggest Crybaby. I guess he's taking me seriously when I tell him I'm starting to exercise again. He's always been an optimist that way. He also brought home burgers, fries and Cokes, which is my favorite birthday lunch.

We watched Baby Mama, which was better than I thought it would be - surprising. Tina Fey is genius at portraying the late-thirties baby obsession that takes over while you're not paying attention. In one scene she's in a crowded elevator with a lady holding a baby standing in front of her. She reaches out and touches the baby's hand and then secretly sniffs the baby's head; kind of creepy and totally real. Brian looked at me during the scene and I said, Yes. That shit is REAL. He then asked me what was up with her since her character on 30 Rock is also trying to adopt a baby and I told him she's fine; she's married and has a baby in real life. Because I probably know a little too much about her, but it comes in handy for situations like that.

I checked my email that evening and found out work had been trying to get ahold of me but my voicemail box was full. Oops. A lot of people had called and text'd (what is the past tense of text, dammit, becaused "texted" looks stupid) to leave me birthday messages and that made me very happy. But apparently someone had sent flowers to me at work, not knowing I wasn't going to be there yesterday. Was it you? I can't figure it out. They stored them in the cold supply closet for me to help keep them from wilting, but I'm going to take a ride over there today and get them so I can bring them home and stare at them. I like flowers. And I can't wait to find out who sent them!

My friend Johnann sent me a bunch of books from my Amazon wishlist that I've plowed through while still avoiding Twilight. Even so, we're planning a Barnes & Noble date today, as one can never have enough books; I need to buy one for Brian for V-day as well. Annette always gets me Office-related merchandise, but this year she decided to cover all the shows and got me a cool (literally because it's the kind you stick in the freezer so it can keep your drinks cold) mug with the NBC logo on it. She and I are proud Peacock geeks. Before we had cable, NBC was the only channel we could pick up and I was frighteningly fine with that, since that's what 90% of the things I watch are on. I know Heather was naughty and is sending me a birthday box and unlike the one I sent her, I'm sure everything she planned on putting in it will be in it. Does anyone know where four bottles of OPI nailpolish could have run off to, because THEY WEREN'T IN HER BOX AND I DON'T HAVE THEM EITHER. Ahem, sorry. That is the kind of mystery I don't enjoy. And of course my mom sent me a Walmart gift card, because she knows depending on our finances, I'll either spend it on something for myself or on groceries, which also counts for myself. A grocery trip without worrying about over-spending is a very exciting thing to me. I am easily pleased, which makes for a lot more fun and a lot less disappointment in life.

And this morning upon sitting down to the computer, I saw a big red stuffed heart with sneakers on waiting for me - I'm guessing that had to be from Brian or I'm REALLY going to be mystified. I tell him every year not to acknowledge Valentine's, since I feel my birthday is the more important of the two holidays, but every year he gets me a little thing anyway. He's cool like that.

It's been a nice celebratory weekend so far; I hope everyone else's is too.

January Blah

Hi. I thought I'd take a break from folding and putting away clothes to sit here for a few minutes and talk about nothing important whatsoever.

Such as the fact we're in the middle of the most blah month of the whole year. I'm assuming this is the time of year where people with mood disorders suffer somewhat. The holidays are over, blah. The weather is kind of dreary if not downright shitty, blah. Money is tight. My frigging pants are tight. It's just kind of blahdeblah all around. I wish I could say blah a little more, don't you? Blah, blah.

I was reading one of my favorite fashion/celebrity sites this morning and ran across this:

That's not so much blah as it is AAGH! This is Evan Rachael Wood, of Thirteen, Across the Universe and Marilyn Manson ex-girlfriend fame. Girl is twenty-one years old. Here I am almost twice her age and I have never felt the need to wear that much slap on my face. Should I consider it? I don't think my budget would allow it. I've seen her face before now and it's really pretty - I just don't understand.

While we're on the subject of things I don't understand, of which there are many, let's talk about a movie that opened this weekend - Bride Wars. One of the girls I really like at work told me she can't wait to see it this weekend. Her husband would not be joining her (because apparently he's male and also has a brain) and she asked if I'd like to go. Normally, I'd jump at the chance to go to the movies, especially since I still have days where I miss Movie Club so intensely it makes me want to move back to Florida so we can resume our weekly movie nights. But this? No. Not just no, but Hell no.

Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway; I don't think this is a case of actors who are desperate for work. Unless the economy is much worse than I fear, I don't see any possible scenario where those two women read this script and went, "You know, this looks like a really good idea. A totally predictable, vapid and non-thinking girly movie, something I've fought against my entire career." Well, Kate does have How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days under her belt, but Almost Famous wipes out any mistake she's made. In the past, that is. Not anymore. And Anne was Princess Diaries, but since then she's moved on and succeeded well. I don't get it. But I politely thanked Jessica for inviting me and made up a complete and utter lie about having plans all weekend. Well that's not a complete lie, as long as doing laundry, eating meals and organizing my sock drawer can be considered plans. Which they totally can.

I hope everyone is having a nice weekend so far. And that you have more exciting plans than I do, though I get excited at the thought of having clean sheets on the bed, so it's all relative.

Denied no longer!

The last time I was this fascinated with a product that was sold As Seen on TV, was the Magic Bullet. Sister got one, Grace got one and I wanted one. Brian said okay, but why. I thought about it for a minute and said, "To make milkshakes!" He said, "Go buy some ice cream; I'll make you the best milkshake you've ever had without a stupid Magic Bullet," and then laughed condescendingly. Which really pissed me off and made me not want to like the milkshake he made. But I couldn't deny its perfection. It was lovely - Breyer's Chocolate & Strawberry, thick, eaten with a spoon. And I forgot about the Magic Bullet.

This? I don't think I can forget about as easily and I doubt Brian can whip up a homemade version of it. Unless he has some hidden mad sewing skills I'm not aware of. Possible, but not likely.

I'm obsessed. I've seen the commercial for a few weeks now and every time I'm like, "Oh my God, it's THE SNUGGIE! I NEED ONE! RIGHT NOW!!!" He just shakes his head. He's really mean sometimes. Then to make things worse, one of my heroes and Myspace "friends", Diablo Cody, author of Candy Girl and writer of Juno and the soon-to-be released Jennifer's Body and Showtime series United States of Tara (which reminds me, note to self: add Showtime to cable package) blogs that she not only HAS the Snuggie, she can't picture how she ever managed to live BEFORE the Snuggie. She provided photographic evidence:



More proof of why it sucks for me not to be her. I mean okay, I want to be Tina Fey too, but does SHE own a Snuggie? I doubt it.

To top it all off, yesterday I got an email. From Snuggie! Which is obviously the final sign I needed. Brian thinks it's some evil internet marketing tool that guessed how much I want one, but how could that be? This is the first time I've ever spoken of it to anyone but him. There is nothing sinister about this. It's a blanket. With sleeves. If that isn't the perfect, best, most awesome thing ever in the whole wide world, I don't know what is. I've already pictured myself in front of the fireplace and reading while wrapped in a Snuggie of my very own. I don't think I have a choice at this point.

In these trying economic times, you're supposed to take comfort in the little things.

You're also supposed to not spend money on stupid shit you don't need. But I'm ignoring that part.

The waiting is the hardest part

I have, what you might call, A LOT on my mind right now. Hence there will be no rhyme, reason, cohesion, plot, sense, whatever in the following post. I know, what makes today any different, right?

Tonight is the live finale of The Biggest Loser. Not that I care. I mean, really - who would watch a trainwreck like that? Not me. And I totally didn't vote for Ed last week either. Stupid.

My old lady neighbor appeared like a creepy Christmas ghost in the shrubs between our houses last night at dusk and scared the shit out of me. I was trapped into a half hour conversation, but I found out some interesting stuff. All this time I've thought her dog is fourteen, but I must've heard her wrong. She's eighteen years old. I didn't even know that was possible. I asked her what kind of food she feeds her and I'll be buying it from now on. Science Diet. She also told me a Verizon truck was parked in our front yard for like an hour today. This is weird because (A) we don't have Verizon and (B) what the hell is she doing looking at my yard for that long? Nosy neighbors are sometimes a good thing though, and had I had someone like her a few years ago, I wouldn't have suffered the tragedy of having a Hickory Farms gift basket go to rot while I was gone on vacation. All that wasted cheese and sausage, very sad.

Not surprising, but Sister is getting one of those computer book reader things for Christmas from her husband. Not surprising both because she loves to read as much as I do and her husband loves gadgets as much as we love to read. I'm excited to find out how she likes it. And yes I know she reads this and no I did not ruin the surprise. I'm famous for ruining the surprise, but this time I'm safe. I'm pretty sure.

And finally, this:

Oh Brad, why? I'm sure it's for a movie role (I pray), but seriously. You look like a crime-fighting pastry chef. Now that I think about it, ever since you've been with the she-devil, your looks have taken a severe downward turn. I can't believe it's taken me this long to notice. A lot of women don't find Brad hot to begin with, but me, I was not one of those women. Emphasis on WAS. In fact, I don't think anything about him has been right since Fight Club.

In fact, it was that movie that inspired me to invent a word. You know those muscles men have, right there on the hip/groinal area? Those cute little indents? Well, the way his looked in that movie caused me to name those muscles "Brads" because they were sheer chiseled perfection. That, and I don't know the real name of them. But "Brads" pretty much covers it. But now, I don't know. If he keeps getting uglier and having more kids to perpetuate the new Super Race I know he's trying for, I may have to think of a new name for that man muscle. "Johnnys" just doesn't have the same ring to it.

Holy shit, it's November!

What the hell just happened? I went to Florida for a few days, came back and now it's practically the holidays. The leaves have advanced way too quickly here and I'm freaked out that October is done. I'm not ready for this yet. Time keeps on slippin, slippin, slippin, into the future...Steve Miller, get out of my head, you dick. That's their worst song; I thought so even back in the stoner days.

So, yeah.

I got back Saturday night at a very decent hour and was so happy to see the man and the dog. We did nothing but watch football and I couldn't manage to stay awake for SNL. I'd planned to sleep late yesterday, but of course that didn't happen. I was up at 7:30, which of course was actually 6:30 and figured I'd catch a nap later so went ahead with the making of the coffee, surfing of the internet, etc. While catching up on blogs, I got a message from Kevin Smith to stop reading his blog and go see the flick. Since I do whatever he tells me, I looked up the movie times and saw with great excitement Zack and Miri was playing at the theater across the street from our neighborhood.

This is key. Back in the days when we actually went out, we used to go to a lot of movies. It was a regular event on the weekends. After I started up with my movie club, Brian was happy I no longer dragged him to the theater as much, as somewhere along the way he stopped liking going so much. It could have to do with the long lines, ridiculous prices and obnoxious people. I'll give him that. I hate those things too, but there's just something about a movie at the theater I will never stop loving. The strong popcorn smell as soon as you step up to the ticket window. The dim lighting, bad carpeting and movie posters all over the lobby. The five dollar M 'n M's. No, I'm kidding; I began my long career of sneaking food in many years ago. I haven't figured out how to do it with a bag of microwave popcorn yet, but someday I will.

Since leaving Florida and thus my movie club behind, I've also cut severely down on watching movies out of the house. But there are certain situations I will make no exception for, one of those being a new View Askew film. The best part is, I knew Brian would go, because he hadn't seen me in almost a week and that's the best time to ask him to do things for me. Also the fact that the ride to this theater is exactly a minute and a half long, a Sunday matinee isn't likely to be crowded and it doesn't cost fifty dollars - there goes everything he hates about going.

All this to say, hey guess what we did yesterday afternoon? And the movie was fucking awesome. Seriously, if you're a Smith fan you will think it's like Chasing Amy but better. If you're my age or thereabouts, you will freak over how good the soundtrack is (the closing scene's song is the song we danced to at our wedding so guess who walked out of a bawdy comedy crying?) and you'll appreciate the fact that you get to see Jason Mewes naked. A lot. If you're not a Smith fan, what the hell is wrong with you? Haha, no. Well yes, but if you're really not, you're probably at least a Seth Rogan fan and he wrote the whole movie with him in mind for the lead role so that worked out well. Of course it's very dirty - you can pretty much surmise that much from the title, but only he could make a movie about making a porno and have it be believable, funny and touching.

Okay, end movie review. But seriously. Go see it. Unless you're under 18, then tell your parents you want to see High School Musical III then sneak and go see it.

It's kind of cold and gray and rainy and I'm so not in the mood to work. Which kind of sucks, because I've been gone for a week and had a full in box, email box and voicemails to wade through and deal with. I knew I'd have to come back to work eventually, I just wish it didn't have to be today. I'm trying to cheer myself up by getting take-out vegetable soup, but it's not working so well. The only real consolation is my boss isn't here, so I know I'll be sneaking out early. Not much, but better than nothing.

Politics and the Bliss of Ignorance

I just tried posting a YouTube video of Amy Poehler rapping as Sarah Palin the other night on SNL and it didn't work. I hope you saw it; Amy is a genius. I'm really going to miss her when she leaves very soon to have a baby and then goes to work on what I fear is going to be a disaster, an spinoff of The Office. I mean seriously. The Office is amazing, just like its British predecessor, but come on - even they know they got lucky with the perfect combination of writers and actors. That magic doesn't happen very often as evidenced in all the utter crap that pollutes TV every day.

Hey, did you know there was an election coming up in less than two weeks? No, I'm serious. And I'm having a hard time refraining from turning this blog into one big political rant, but there are already too many of those as it is, so I won't. I'm sure I'll have SOMETHING to say November 5th, but even then I'll keep it to a minimum. I will tell you this though. Eight years ago on election night, Brian dealt with the stress by drinking hundreds and hundreds of beers. I stayed at work late that night, where I also got into trouble and by trouble I mean, fuck was I stupid. So I made a rule for this election day/night. NO BEER. I'm dead ass serious. He looked at me weird when I said it, like "What? I wasn't even thinking about getting beer!" Sure. I'm not new here; I know how these things work. I'd love to take a few (hundred) sedatives to deal with everything that night, but I'm not going to. We're both going to have to suffer through this dead ass sober. I am the fun police and I declare that night a No Fun Zone.

Update on the Princess of Darkness and the Saga from the Trailer Park. She went out the other night with Drunky's brother, a transvestite. I'm telling you, I can't make this shit up! They went to a gay strip bar where she met a guy who works there as part of the "entertainment", i.e. a stripper. She went home with him that night and they hooked up. He told her, yes he works in a gay bar, yes he lives with a male roommate who's in love with him and yes he was raised by two dads, but don't worry because he himself is totally straight. Straight as an arrow, yep. He LOVES her little boobs and the fact that she's built like a boy (yes, he said that) but he is straight. I asked my source if they had sex in any position besides doggie and she said she didn't know. Because my guess would be no. She is completely smitten with this guy, calling him at work and giggle-whispering into the phone, pretty much acting like a total tool. She really and truly believes this is her new boyfriend. So. If you were feeling bad about your love life before reading this? I provided this story as a public service announcement to make you feel better.

You are welcome.

Damn it, I'm slacking!

What in Melrose Hell is going on around here? I HATE when real life gets in the way of the important things, like celebrity gossip. It is a sad testament to the fact that I've been way too busy with stupid shit like "work" and "family" when things like this pass under my radar:



Noooo! Heather, no! What the hell happened??? I know you went to rehab not too long ago, but I figured you went on the advice of your publicist, since that's what all the cool kids are doing now and your career hasn't exactly been super duper lately. But no, the Betty Ford vacation must have been real, because here we have the mug shot from your DUI this weekend! Oh Tommy, where are you when your exes need you? Too busy hooking up with Pam to secure a spot on her weak-ass show, and now look. Your one true love (and yes she is the One - because I am one with Tommy's SOUL) got all hopped up on meth or pills or coke/speed/wine coolers and now she's got the dreaded disease of Crazy Eyes!

Oh, this is way too upsetting. Since the early 80's when she multi-tasked as Good Girl Cop on TJ Hooker and Bad Sammy Jo on Dynasty, when she was swept off her vagina by Tommy Lee - Heather has always had a special place in my heart and that's because with all the Hollywood debauchery that surrounded her, she always remained pure. This was cemented by her long and loving marriage to Richie Samboa, Good Guy and BFF with one of my favorite pretend boyfriends of all time, Jon Bon Jovi.

(Can you tell the Xanax has kicked in?)

But now this. Damn it. Well, strike another one of my heroes off the arrest-free list.
That damn list gets shorter by the day, I swear.

Did that really just happen?

When I woke up (late) this morning, I had no way of knowing tonight I would have a dream come true. I guess that just goes to show you never know where the day will take you. Let me explain.Worked all day, came home and settled in to work some more. I handed Brian the Free Times I pick up every week, the little alternative college-like newspaper for this town.

So there I am sitting at the computer putting invoices in, when he calls from the other room, "Is today September 17th?" I said "Yes..." (This didn't alert me to anything unusual, as he often has to verify the day's date with me) He then says, "Well, Kevin Smith is at the Koger Center tonight." Insert sound of needle scratching across record and everything coming to a complete halt.

My first thought was, "How could I, fangirl extraordinaire, have missed this?" I mean, I still check concert listings every week even though we don't go to concerts. I know what the hell goes on in this town! Regardless, I start running around in circles, not really understanding what I'm doing. It was 6:05 and the show started at 7. I tell Brian to jump in the shower and hurry the hell up and he says, "No, I don't think I want to go this time." This time? THIS time?? Like this happens on a monthly basis? Whatever. This has no bearing on me going.

I threw on my no-fail uniform of jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt, powdered my face and was out the door in seven minutes. Fourteen minutes after that I skidded into the parking lot, grabbed my debit card, phone and bottle of water and hauled ass inside. Even though I didn't have my USC staff ID on me, they let me have the $5 ticket anyway. So pretty much for less than the price of seeing a movie, I saw my favorite filmmaker of all time. Not a bad deal.

But here's the catch. Kevin's shows are always Q & A's, which means he has nothing prepared to say; he stands there for hours doing nothing but answering questions and telling little stories relating to what people ask him. I'd seen one two years before in Orlando (I'm sure there's a blog about it somewhere back there) and so knew the deal. However, for two years I've been kicking myself in the ass for not asking the man a question when I had the chance. Well, here was my second chance.

Except if you know me at all you know damn well public speaking ranks right up there with root canals and anal probes. Just sitting in my seat THINKING about speaking to him got my heart rate up to dangerous levels. Cold sweats, the whole thing. What finally got me up there? Well, for one thing I always say I want to have as few regrets as possible and this would be a biggie if I passed another opportunity like this. Secondly the people that WERE up there asking questions were so dumb for the most part, I knew anything I said wouldn't make me look like a schmuck. And really, I didn't give a shit about what anyone in there thought of me except for one person and since I'd practiced my question in my head for two years, I knew it was decent.

I took my place in line at mic 1. There were four of them and he alternated back and forth on both sides of the room. As my turn got closer and closer the nerves hit again, but I didn't let it get out of control. And then I stepped up to the mic. Picture me, Chickenshit of the Ages with a microphone in front of a thousand people and Kevin Smith. Thinking, "God, please don't let my voice shake, my knees knock or my bowels loosen. Afterwards, fine, but not now God." The following is a brief recap of the conversation, because he took about ten minutes to answer. Ten! Minutes!!!

I said, "I saw your Q & A in Orlando a couple of years ago..."
He said, "Oh yeah, the one where they had the stage set up like the Clerks storefront?"
Me: "Yes."
KS: "Sweet, what'd you think?"
Me: "Well, it was great. You talked for about five hours before we had to get up and leave..."
KS: "Why'd you leave?"
Audience: Laughter
Me: "Well, my sister was very pregnant at the time and needed food and water."
KS: "Totally understood."
Audience: Laughter
Me: "But we talked afterwards about how cool it was that you still care enough about your fans that you do these things and just stand there for hours talking to us. What makes you still so real and down-to-earth after all the success you've had?"

So that was my question. He went into a fairly long-winded dialogue about how he thinks fame pretty much only magnifies what's already there, that he wouldn't know how to be fake or want to spend that much energy doing that and also how him being fat also made him a lot more gracious than most people. That made me sad. But he gave a great answer to what I think was a pretty good question, especially compared to some of what the college freshman males were asking him ("If you could fuck Sarah Palin, would you?" and "If they could clone humans into hamburger meat, which celebrity would you eat?", etc.)

After he was done I said thank you and he said, "Thanks, I appreciated that question."

Oh. Oh God. Oh my God.

I did not picture this happening when I woke up this morning cursing because the alarm didn't go off.
Life is so crazy sometimes.