Sunday Night

Guilty Feet Have Got No Rhythm

George Michael flees UK

London - George Michael has fled the UK after being arrested for drug possession. The 'Faith' singer left his $5 million mansion with partner Kenny Goss, carrying six suitcases before heading to London Luton Airport on Tuesday night.

It is believed the 45-year-old star is on his way to his favourite retreat in the South of France, but George's publicist could not confirm his destination, saying: "We don't know where he is going."

An onlooker said: "They looked like they were going away for some time judging by all the luggage they were carrying."

George - who was famously arrested for engaging in a lewd act in a Los Angeles public toilet in 1998 - was found in possession of crack cocaine and marijuana last Friday after a public toilet attendant tipped off police.

But officers decided to let him off with a warning after he "showed remorse" and said further charges would ruin his career.

He later pleaded to his fans for forgiveness, saying in a statement: "I want to apologise to my fans for screwing up again, and to promise them I'll sort myself out. And to say sorry to everybody else, just for boring them."

Meanwhile, singer Boy George - who has also battled drug addiction - has expressed his sympathy with the star.

::sigh::

It's hard enough being a George Michael fan on a good day, people.

And getting sympahty from this guy:

If that's not a wake up call, I don't know what is.

Still love you, GM, but that t-shirt I bought at your concert might have to stay in my dresser drawer a little while longer. I'm sure you understand.

Default Photo Pose, The Remix

Please review my previous blog in which I demonstrated my default photo pose. However, it has come to my attention, that I have TWO default photo poses. This one I call, the "twisty arm lesbian lean."

October 2007

August 2008

Oh, and can I just point out that I'm not the only one with a default photo pose. Mmmmkay?

My Windows Are Clean...Fresh As A Summer's Breeze

So, Chris and I got new windows installed in our house last week. We are thrilled. We've been in our house for 3 years and have never been able to open the windows...they were either painted or nailed shut. This was a big thing.

The window in our shower was the catalyst. Yes, I said the window in our shower...our house was built before the days of central heat and air, so the only way to ventilate was to open a window. Years of water splashing on a wood frame window...wood rot, people. It's a concern. We had resorted to duct taping a huge blue plastic recycling bag over the window to prevent further damage. We are nothing if not classy.

Fast forward to today...I was talking to my sister over IM and mentioned the windows and she said, send pictures! So, I went snapping away and made sure to get a good picture of the one in the bathroom. I uploaded them to Snapfish and was ready to apply witty captions such as ("Bathroom window: Before," "Bathroom window: After") when something caught my eye. Take a good look and see if you see it...

Give up? Let me help you...THERE'S A BIG OL' BOTTLE OF SUMMER'S EVE FEMININE WASH IN THE SHOWER CADDY!! Can't talk your eyes off it now, can you? And it's not just any bottle of feminine wash, it a super-sized bottle that we bought at Costco cause it's cheaper, AND it's UPSIDE DOWN for easy dispensing.

I was about to send this to friends/family/co-workers/the mailman. Oh the humanity!

Skinny Lesbian No Match for Sasquatch, News at 11

Fact: Chris and I are renting a cabin in the North Georgia mountains over Labor Day weekend.

Fact: Two men allegedly have discovered the 7'7" 500 lb. corpse of Sasquatch (hereafter referred to as Bigfoot) in the North Georgia mountains.

Fact: These two men also allege that while they were removing Bigfoot from the area (with plans to place in a freezer, no less), other Bigfoots (Bigfeet?) were seen circling the area.

Although these men have not disclosed the exact location where they found the furry carcass, I can only assume that it was within a 2 mile radius of the cabin we rented. And that the Bigfeet (Bigfoots?) seen circling the area have had plenty of time to plot their revenge.

I'm gonna end up in some Sasquatch's freezer, I just know it.

It's good to be loved...

Wonder when Jennifer is going to update her blog again. Life is just not worth living without it!

I agree. I know there are other blogs out there, but here's how I feel about them!

Please, oh please update your blog soon, Jennifer. If not, we will be forced to do other things...like work.

Ladies, ladies...don't you cry. I promise to blog soon...very soon. Show ya right.

Did you hear that?!?! A blog coming soon!! Now we have a reason to go on! Yippee!!!

saw this on cnn.com and it made me laugh out loud ***UPDATE***

And I'm posting it for no other reason than that.

It's my blog. Deal with it.

***EDIT***

I knew that picture reminded me of something...

Pageants, George Michael, Malls, Lesbians...

The following is an actual IM conversation that took place between me and B, referred to lovingly here as Pinto. (Side note: gotta love the fact that B has never really asked why we gave her such a moniker.) I tried to write a narrative version of this, but the real thing was sooooo much better.

Enjoy!

me: i know you have pageant issues from the unfortunate miss clawson incident
me: however
pinto: you want me to sign up for a pageant?
me: no, you've already won
me: sort of
pinto: I SHOULD HAVE WON
me: I AGREE
me: that whore
me: where is she now?
me: in the gutter addicted to meth?
me: anyways
me: you are first runner up...to be my chaperone to the george michael concert
me: if cj is not able to fulfill her duties
me: like if she comes down with e coli or some shit
me: i'm assuming that your silence means that you are overcome
pinto: i’m honored and speechless.
pinto: um, i am learning that perhaps there are conditions here?
pinto: like, responsibilities?
me: well, yeah
me: first
me: i might cry
me: so, you'll have to deal with that
me: second, i may require that you slow dance with me during "careless whisper"
me: no...take the may out...that's a definite
pinto: i see.
me: third, you can't make fun of the way he says faith-a-faith-a-faith-a
pinto: chris says that perhaps i would be allowed to find a suitable, hopefully gay, mail suitor for your dancing needs?
me: :(
me: k
pinto: i will accept these conditions.
pinto: perhaps
pinto: i can also have a parade in my honor, as first runner up
pinto: and ride in the back of the miata
pinto: like i did in 1994
me: i can see it now...
me: we could blast a gm song from the stereo
me: your theme
me: i'll have to think on what your theme is
pinto: ok
me: in other news...did chris tell you of my embarrassing mall experience?
pinto: no
me: did you have a chance to read my blog?
pinto: yes, good lord you are funny
me: why thank you
me: ok, so i went to the mall to buy a work-appropriate outfit
me: and i became overwhelmed
me: i hate the mall
me: i went into dillard's and was like, "who wears this shit?"
me: i went into the gap and thought i was in a freaking runway show
me: where are the khakis?
me: so, i was feeling all down
me: cause none of this stuff is me
me: and i round the corner of a certain dept store
me: and see a nice table of khakis
me: and POLOS
me: white ones
me: blue ones
me: black ones
pinto: jen central
me: YES
me: i was like, I DO HAVE A PLACE IN THIS WORLD
me: then i looked up
me: ...
pinto: men's section?
me: worse
me: juniors...still not that bad
me: wait for it
me: school uniform section
pinto: oh no
me: :/
pinto: hahahahahahahahaha
me: that may turn into a blog
me: and i was thinking...i'm not a bad dresser
me: i'm no fashionista
me: i have a very classic americana preppy lesbian look
pinto: they really just need to have a lesbian store.
me: yes
me: the way the fucking gap used to be
pinto: nothing but polos and jeans, some men's, some women's, plain t-shirts, cargo shorts
pinto: nothing floral, no skirts or dresses
pinto: perhaps even a little rack in the corner for that has some t-shirts with embroidered cats on them
me: lol
me: rainbow cats
pinto: like 6 of them, each a different color
pinto: and on the end of the rack can be some fanny packs
me: we should do this
me: instead of big & tall...dyke & butch
pinto: it's gotta have a more subtle name - i would never shop at dyke & butch
me: no no no
me: that would just be a section
pinto: ah, i see
me: i have my pride too
pinto: "the other kind of girl"
me: girls who like [blog edit]
me: too much?
pinto: very subtle
me: sorry...i think my starbux had an extra shot
me: you're better at subtle anyway

Putting the Casual Back in Business Casual...

I am of the opinion that jeans are business casual. Simply stated, jeans are nothing but khakis made out of denim. Especially the way I wear them...with a nice crease down the front. See?


I am NOTHING if not professional in those.

But alas, my boss is coming into the office unexpectedly, and I packed nothing but my jeans, 4 cans of heavy starch, and a commercial-grade iron. Oh well, guess I'll have to go Chatta-shopping tonite.

And in keeping with the theme, GM is in 2 days. Woot! I bet George Michael can wear jeans any time he damn well pleases. Shaking your ass next to a juke box in a pair of chinos would just be silly.

Wonder if my friends would disown me?

The Only Man I Have Ever Loved...

The countdown begins...

The girl may have a point.

So, Chris has always told me that I have a default photo face. A kind of frozen grin that flashes across my face when I know that my picture is being taken. I've denied such. However, a recent duo of pictures has made me reconsider her claims.

Exhibit A:

This picture was taken on my birthday. Did the large candle topped confection in front of me give it away? And don't hate on my cookie cake. Yes, I am aware that no one has ordered a cookie cake since 1987. I'm bringing it back, people, and Great American Cookies was glad to have the business. Times are tough. But I digress. On to...

Exhibit B:

This picture was taken last night at my delayed birthday celebration at B & C's. They were conveniently in Miami being chorus rock stars or some shit on my true birthday. I made them throw me a party when they got back. Again, with the digression.

The photos are strikingly similar. Let's review:

• The smile is very similar.
• My head is cocked slightly to the left in both.
• Hands are clasped in both.
• The same piece of hair has crept out from behind my left shoulder in both.
• My hair is parted in the same place...let's be honest people...that part hasn't moved in 20 years and it's not moving anytime soon.
• Apparently, pink is my summer color.
• I have terrible posture in both.

Eery. I might submit these photos to Highlights magazine for a future installment of "spot the differences" That's right...I said, Highlights. Don't hate. Goofus & Gallant...I'm bringin' it back.

Change I Can't Fit In

If anyone knows any politically active sufferers of anorexia nervosa in need of clothing, I have a nice new Barack Obama t-shirt that needs a new home.

Apparently, when the description indicated "sizes tend to run slightly small," it really meant, "get a large, fatty."

Mocha, Take the Wheel

So, I went to Starbucks this morning. It's my Dancing Goats alternative when I'm Chatta-working. I think I've got the formula down to make the Starbucks version of my signature iced mocha less heinous...only 2 pumps of chocolate vs. the 4 that they normally put in there. I ordered coffee, not a candy bar, people. Anyways, my Chatta-barista tells me that I have been chosen for an online survey and that participation in said survey enters me for a chance to win $1,000. Woot!

Of course, that's the first thing I do when I get to the Chatta-office. Here's the rub...if I'm honest and tell them their coffee tastes like crap and I only get it because there's no Chatta-ternative, I ain't winning no $1,000. It's just like the Publisher's Clearning House sweepstakes. No purchase necessary my ass. You're not getting that $1,000,000 unless you are up to your armpits in Field & Stream and Better Homes & Gardens.

So, as much of a betrayal as it is to my beloved DG...I have to admit that I kissed a little Starbucks ass to get a shot at the $1,000.

I feel so dirty.

I did draw the line however when asked to rate on a scale from strongly agree to strongly disagree whether or not I found my visit to Starbucks "uplifting." (I kid you not.) It's coffee, people, not Opra....er, I mean Jesus.

Random Thoughts...

Walking into Target and realizing that of the 7 items that make up your outfit, 5 were purchased at Target. This is about as cool as wearing your favorite band's t-shirt to their concert. In other words, it's not. Whilst shopping today, I tried to keep moving so people wouldn't think I was a mannequin.

Realizing that even though the new fast food craze is to greet drive-thru customers with, "How are you today?" instead of "Can I take your order?", doesn't really mean that the 16 year-old working the drive thru really wants to know how my day is going nor does she want me to return the favor.

Taco Bell Representative: How are you today?
Me: Just fine, thank you. How are you?
::2 MINUTES OF SILENCE::
Taco Bell Rep: Hello?
Me: Hello?
Taco Bell Rep: ::Exasperated sigh:: Go 'head with your order."

It is true that blaring good music in your headphones and singing along at the top of your lungs into a shampoo bottle make cleaning the bathroom a much more pleasant experience; however, it is worthy to mention that your skiddish puppy dog might not agree. If such behavior is necessary, it is wise to set aside additional time afterwards to explain to the puppy dog that Mama did not say to knock her out, and that I am not required to save the world, let alone in only 4 minutes.

Chatta-isms

Most of you blog readers (all 4 of you) know my work situation. But, in the off chance that someone reads this that isn't related to me in some way, let me explain. I began commuting from Atlanta to Chattanooga, TN about 3 weeks ago for my job.

::GASP:: You commute to CHATTANOOGA??? ::GASP::

Get it out of your system, people. Yes, I commute to Chattanooga. I could go through all the reasons why it's not as bad as it seems, but truly, it becomes exhausting. As long as it's ok with me and my girl (and so far, it is), no explanation is needed.

But that little rant isn't the reason for my blog post today. This post is about Chatta-isms. Spending a few days a week in a new city is interesting. Chattanooga isn't all that new to me...I mean, I had been here several times before for work. And even before that Chattanooga was a tourist destination in the Tennessee Valley. The aquarium in downtown (this was before the Atlanta aquarium...you know, the place where the fishes go to die), the Chattanooga choo choo, oh, and Ruby Falls. Ruby Falls, Ruby Falls. You can drive within 500 miles of Chattanooga and see signs for Ruby Falls. Ruby Damn Falls ain't nothing but an underground waterfall with a red light shining on it. But I still bought the bird house with "See Ruby Falls" painted on it.

But I digress.

On to the Chatta-isms, or words/phrases I use to describe my new found home away from home.

• Chatta-lesbian - Weeble wobbles who sleep with other weeble wobbles, wear long shorts, and sport their Vols hat backwards. I saw a couple in Target the other day. They looked at me as if to say, "What are you lookin' at straighty?" I took offense. Who says a lesbian can't pull off an argyle cardigan?


• Chatta-Moe's - The best damn Moe's on the planet. I've been twice and am VERY impressed. Also impressive is the fact that the employees are caucasian females. It has been my experience that the closer you are in ethnicity to the food you are preparing, the better the food will be. (Racist? I don't think so.) So, I was worried to see young white female teenagers about to prepare my Unanimous Decision. (Side note: can Moe's make up their damn minds about what they want to call a vegetarian taco? 'Cause I just got Ugly Naked Guy memorized, and they changed it! Hey, I know, hows about calling it a VEGETARIAN TACO. Geesh.) But, much to my surprise, the food was outstanding. White girls hooked it up, mmmm-KAY?


• Chatta-hobby - what I need to get. Currently, it's shopping. And that's bad. The area I'm in has a mall about 100 feet from the office, and a new Target, Wal-Mart, and Old Navy just down the road. Hmmm, should I sit in the room and watch TV....or go shopping?


• Chatta-fuel-ga - yeah, that's a bit of a stretch. But gas is cheaper here, and I could kick myself that I didn't fill up yesterday when it was $3.59/gallon. It jumped up to $3.67 today. BASTARDS! People, that's $1.20 right down the ol' drain. Which brings me to:


• Chatta-highway-robbery - The $2.50 I spent on a Baby Ruth and a Coke last night at the hotel vending machine. That's ok, I make up for it by stealing all the little shampoos, conditioners, body wash, lotions, note pads, pens, Bibles, towels, remote controls, wall art, Please Do No Disturb signs, and wall mounted hair driers. Bolt cutters come in handy.


• Chatta-nental-breakfast - I have yet to experience the breakfast at the hotel. I walk by it every morning and think, I should get something, it's free! But I don't. This morning, I decided against it because there were a bunch of boys in there. I would guess that they were part of the Kleenex sponsored racing team (I saw the big trailer parked in the parking lot last night)...they just had that racing look. And I had two laptops with me, so I couldn't very well juggle 2 laptops, a bowl of frosted flakes, a banana, a cereal bar, a cup of strawberry yogart, and apple juice. Maybe next time.

I will be adding to this list as I experience more of The Scenic City (the official nickname...needs work, I think.)

Your humble Chatta-blogger.

My Latest Business Venture

1 Lesbian & A Jeep Office Movers

Um, yeah, I have my own tools. Duh.

Progress?

There's only one thing that could bring me out of my blog hibernation: a fast food issue.

Not just any fast food, but McDonald's. And not just any McDonald's, but the first McDonald's ever constructed in my hometown. It's the trifecta, people, and I'm not happy.

It seems that under the guise of progress, the owners of the first established McDonald's in Huntsville, AL have decided to remodel. That in itself is no crime. However, as part of the renovation, they are removing the original sign, a freaking LANDMARK of the Huntsville skyline.

This sign has been there since 1963. And my research tells me that it's one of two still in operation. And now it's being torn down to be shipped to a vintage sign museum in Ohio. Ohio? WTF?Sigh. I know that things change. And I know it's just a sign. And if I'm perfectly honest, it never was my favorite McDonald's and I haven't been there in years. But it was just the idea that it was so unique, and one of the things that made my hometown, MY hometown. And now, it's gone. To Ohio. (WHY OHIO!?) There is a similarly nostalgiac sign at the Arby's across town.

(Full disclosure, that is not the actual sign.)

If I get wind that they are even thinking of tearing it down, fast forward to me chaining myself to it.

So yesterday, I decided to go to McDonald's for lunch. In addition to my usual cheeseburger, large fry, and medium Coke...I purchased one small orange drink (no ice). After I got my order, I pulled to the front, exited my car, said a few words, and poured one out for the loss of my childhood and my homie Speedee.

RIP, brother.

Enough already...

If I hear Bruce Springsteen's rendition of Santa Claus Is Coming To Town one more time, I think I might scream.

Also, if I hear the phrase Reason for the Season one more time, a similar response can be expected.

That is all.

people are dumb

That's not a peace sign, dummies. That's mercedes logo.

Dairy Products...Beware!

An innocent trip to the Decatur beerfest, prompted a protest letter by my gf. She's good at protest letters. Really. Yes, she's been to PETA rallies until she realized that they were a tad on the militant side. She once wrote Rosie O'Donnell protesting leather jacket week (or something similar) on The Rosie O'Donnell Show. Rosie sent her back an autographed picture. We still have it. Needless to say, the girl should have been alive in the 60s.

Back on point, so gf and B were at the beerfest and were sampling a local brew by the name of "Donkey Punch." The guy serving it made some suggestive comment regarding the phrase donkey punch, which they were clueless about. That is until they got home and we googled donkey punch and found out that it is a term for...well...just look it up.

So, CJ is up in arms and send the brewery this letter:

DonkeyPunch. It's not an appropriate name. I thought it was fine and associated it with a high gravity, must feel like you're getting kicked in the head, until I was at the beer fest and a volunteer was serving some of the barley wine to a friend of mine and made an inappropriate joke which tipped us off that perhaps there was another meaning behind the name of your latest. Beer should be fun. I don't think that promoting violence during sex is fun or should even be nodded to as fun even in jest. I'm a long time supporter of Sweetwater brand and love all your brews and I think that you are a staple of Atlanta, but you should consider changing the name of your barley wine to something less offensive. It's easy to get lost in the male dominated world of beer, and lose sight of "the line" but it is there, and I think you have crossed it. I'm very disappointed in the name selection and hope that you will change it and be more careful in the future.

Rock on, sistah. And not to let an opportunity pass me by, I penned the following letter:

Dear Dairy Producers of the World,

Half and Half. Milk and cream. Innocent enough, right? Not so fast, dairy people. I learned from Cops that half and half is a term used by women of the night meaning sex in the missionary position and fellatio. The last thing I want to think of while enhancing my morning beverage is some skank giving a John a BJ, mmmkay?

Some name alternatives might be extra-creamy milk..er, no. How about milky cream….uh, scratch that. Well, coming up with a new name is really your problem.

I appreciate your immediate attention to this matter.

And lest you think that our grievances only relate to beverages, we are planning a campaign against Beanie Weenies in the very near future.

Viva La Revolucion!

who knew

i am obsessed with pink.

and not the color.

i go through phases where i fixate on a song and play it...non-stop. as in put it on repeat and leave it on all day. i did that a couple of weeks ago with pink's "who knew" and kanye west's "stronger." i listened to those 2 songs continuously all day long. and i never got tired of them. it's weird.

don't you hate it when you love a song and can't sing it? like physically can't hit the notes. i hate that. i wish i had pink's voice...all rhaspy and such. once after i had the flu, my voice came close. too bad it didn't stick.

i also like pink because when she sings, she gestures the words. like when she sings when someone said three years from now, she holds up 3 fingers. when she sings, i'd stand up and punch them out, she balls up a fist. i do that. on 285. people think i'm flipping them off probably. but i'm not. i'm singing with my fingers.

just like pink.

who knew?

Don't call me...

...between the hours of 9:00 and 10:00 p.m. EDT, for I will be glued to the TV watching the Season Premiere of one Grey's Anatomy.

CJ is not a Grey's fan, so she has been given strict instructions that she cannot talk or ask questions during the show. She is considering vacating the premises. Smart girl.

Typical Saturday Night

I don't care if he [R. Kelly] is a pedophile, that song is awesome!

It's a brown out!

B likes short pants!

Do your pants dance, B! (B's response: They're jeans not pants!)

It's a little wet.

It starts with an A. Google jodie + foster + rape.

When I'm in an elevator by myself, sometimes I do a karate kick like this.

It's a bi-plane! ::giggle, giggle::

You have your mouth open in every picture.

No double-chin!

Who's sober enough to drive to Dairy Queen? ::silence::

Be the person your Mom thinks you are...

This is a letter my Mom wrote to Chris' grandmother on finding out that we weren't just "roommates."

September 19, 2007

Dear Ruth and Connie,

Ruth, I am sorry that I had to cut our conversation short on Friday. I had that early morning appointment with my doctor. My thyroid was “out of whack” and he had upped my medication to adjust it. He said it was working OK and just stay on the same dosage of synthyroid.

I hope your inner ear trouble is not bothering you too much this week. Gail Moss, who used to live next door to me, had the same trouble. I saw how she suffered with it. Anyway, I hope you are feeling better and are able to enjoy this beautiful week of fall-ish weather. I certainly have enjoyed it. I am trying to catch up with yard work (if there is such a thing). It was just too hot back in August to work much outside.

I have found the catalogue that I told you about and am enclosing it. I marked the page the dog beds started on with a paper clip. There are so many things in those catalogues that I would like to have, but you can get carried away when it comes to buying things for your pets, can’t you? It is like buying for your kids, I think.

I had been intending to write to you since Jennifer told me that you were aware of her and Chris’s relationship. Jennifer called me that night that you all spoke to each other. She and Chris were both relieved and happy about it. I always told Chris that I believed you knew about it. It does make it so much more comfortable for the whole family to know, so you can relax and not have to watch every word you say, afraid you will say the wrong thing.

Connie and I have talked before about it and how we dealt with it. For me, as you probably know, our oldest daughter, Diana is in a relationship with a girl. I should say, woman, as they are grown women. Diana and Shelly have been together for almost ten years now. Shelly is a wonderful young woman. She is a great teacher of the eighth grade over in GA. We love her as one of our own , as we do Chris.

I would have liked for their lives to have been easier, but I accept their choices. I feel they are born into this life the way they are. I don’t believe it is a choice they have. I love all of my children and just want them to be happy. I couldn’t be prouder of our little family. They are all good human beings and bring a lot of love and happiness to us.

I would have liked to have had more grandchildren, as Connie told me that was one of the things she felt the loss of. We have one grandson, Alex. He is the light in our lives. But, I don’t dwell on what I don’t have, and feel grateful for what I do.

I had told Connie what a wonderful young person Chris is. I will tell you that she is so sweet and we love her very much. She is so talented and smart. We are so proud of her in all she has accomplished. You have a special young lady in her as your daughter and granddaughter. Gordon and I marvel at what they have been able to accomplish with buying their home and making such good decisions in all of their business matters. They are two very grounded young people.

I hope you will consider us part of your extended family and will call on us if you need us. We are here for you all if you need us for anything.

I love your place over there and hope to come and see you all again. Maybe one weekend when Jen and Chris are over there, we can drop by. You all take care.

Love,
Roselie

And before you ask, yes, I do know how lucky I am.

one week from tomorrow...

Season Premiere of Grey's Anatomy!! Woot!

What about your friends...

1 Hot Dog, 1 Slice of Cheese Pizza, 1 Pack of Scalding Hot Boiled Peanuts, 1 Pack of Cracker Jack, 1 Coke, and 2 Beers: $315.97

A night at the ballpark making inappropriate "nut" jokes, screaming at 18-year old girls for t-shirts we had no chance of getting, making fun of barbie doll twins, rooting on the drill, hoping for once they put the kiss-cam on a lesbian couple, explaining to B the phenonmenon of K-mart feet, wincing as CJ does her pterodactyl call, and singing The Brady Bunch theme song in the worst neighborhood in Atlanta with three of my favorite people on the planet: priceless.

The Bux

That's my nickname for Starbucks. The depth of my trendiness is endless. If you remember, I blogged a couple of weeks ago about how I was all intimidated about ordering at Starbucks. See, I was using fast food ordering as my template....size, drink of choice, and extras. As examples:

• large coke with extra ice


• medium orange drink with no ice


• small sweet tea with lemon

As an aside, I don't understand why anyone would order that orange drink that's been recycling in that aqarium-type contraption since 1978, but I'm not one to judge.

Back to my point, Starbucks doesn't follow this standard way of ordering and I found myself feeling all self-conscious when ready to order my favorite beverage. Chris even brought me a pamphlet from Starbucks instructing patrons on how to order. Well, I studied this carefully and practiced over and over again while behind the lead car in the drive-thru. Then the chocolate brown Lexus pulled away and I advanced. My palms got all sweaty and my mouth dried slightly as the speaker crackled to life:

It's a great day at Starbucks, what can I start for you this morning?

For a split second, I panicked. I had the urge to bolt, but that would have involved rolling over the aforementioned Lexus, Bigfoot-style. Certainly an option, but not necessarily practical. Then I took a deep breath, centered myself, closed my eyes and out it came:

Iced tall nonfat mocha

Confetti fell from the sky, trumpets bleated, and the Starbucks baristas hoisted me on their shoulders in an impromtu celebration of my accomplishment. And I can say with all honesty, it was the best damn iced tall nonfat mocha I've ever had.

It really is the simple things in life, people.

It's the little things, really...

SANDY SPRINGS, Ga. -- The discovery of several suspicious items Friday morning forced the evacuation of a post office in Sandy Springs. Police also shut down part of Glenridge Drive while they checked out the items. A visitor to the post office found 10 to 15 mason jars filled with an unknown, brown liquid, a picture of President Bush, a homeland security pamphlet and a stuffed Santa Claus doll. The Cobb County Bomb Squard was called in. They used a robot to remove the doll from the scene. Police said they do not believe the doll is a threat. Officers are now checking out the jars of liquid to see if they are dangerous. The area is still shut down while the investigation continues.

God help me, but this cracks me up. The image alone of poor Santa in the grasps of that bomb-sniffing robot...it's comedy gold, people, and it's what I live for.

Pep Talk

I will swim today.
I will swim today.
I will swim today.

Who cares if I look like an alien in my swim cap and goggles?
Who cares if I have to sit in the hot tub with large, often hairy, men while waiting on a lane to open up?



Who cares that I can really only make it 3/4 of the way across the pool before collapsing with exhaustion?

Who cares that I'm the only one wearing orange floaties on my arms? (Not really, silly people!)

Right?

I will swim today.
I will swim today.
I will swim today.

80's

Heaven Help Me

This was my jam back in the day! It's Deon Estus, who was bassist for Wham! and later George Michael (who I LOVED when I was a teenager. I'm talking about posters on the wall, people!) In fact, that's George singing background. Deon decided to put out a solo record and unless I am mistaken, this was it's one hit. I remember I recorded this song off of the radio (WZYP in Huntsville, AL). They introduced it as a new George Michael song. I'm sure Deon would have loved that.

Sing it with me...

Heaven help me talk to strangers
Heaven help me over you
I can seem to take these changes
Everything reminds my heart of you

I also love the fact that this video is from Night Tracks. Do you remember that show?? I think it was on TBS on Friday nights. Yep, here 'tis: Night Tracks. I freaking love the internet. Night Tracks is not to be confused with Friday Night Videos which was on ABC. MTV put them both out of business.

Oh, hold the damn phone people.

How Can I Fall

Breathe, 1988. Need I say more?

This video is total late 80's. Ah, another summer day in the city. Some kind of block festival. Stick ball. Girl in hat with puppy (let's call her Susan) flirts with cute stick-ball batter (Rick). Big-haired friend of girl (Gina) is with jerk stick-ball pitcher (Vinnie...who looks strangely like Scott Stapp from Creed). Vinnie gets mad because Rick gets a home run off of one of his pitches. But really Vinnie, you throw like a girl. Vinnie takes his attitude out on Gina, who tries to slap him. Vinnie has had it! He turns over a nearby table and storms off! Of course the block party gets rained out. But Susan and Rick don't care. They dance in the rain. Meanwhile, Vinnie and Gina pout separately. Moral of the story: It's just stickball, for chrissakes.

Check out the lead singer's (Gayer McHomosexual) tight Levi's pulled up to his navel and that tapestry vest! I think I had that very outfit.

No boxes for you!

So, I've been surronded by laptops all week. Blue screens of death, overrheating, bad hard drives...you name it, I've seen it. Yesterday, I was working on 4 laptops at once. I had them spread out all over my office and I kept bouncing back and forth, updating, installing, drop kicking. You know, the usual stuff.

Important point: these laptops were sent to me by employees that work either out of their homes or other branches. So, for each laptop there was a box that each laptop was sent to me in. These aren't any old boxes. They are specially outfitted with preformed styrofoam packaging that protects each precious machine. And I had 4 of them neatly stacked in front of my desk. So, I walk in this morning and noticed that my office looked really neat. Peculiarly so. And I recall yesterday afternoon thinking, "The first thing I'm going to do in the morning is clean this place up!" Then it hit me...my garbage can is empty...housekeeping came! Wait, where are my laptop boxes? That mother-effer threw them away!!! How can you throw away someone's laptop boxes!!! They weren't near the garbage can!!! You don't throw away anything unless it's in or near the garbage can. And if it's near the garbage can, don't throw it away unless it has 'GARBAGE' written on it. Now, I'm going to have to go to Office Depot and buy boxes and bubble wrap so that I can send these back out again!

Why me?

Starbucks..Emphasis on the 'bucks"

$4 for a Grande Iced Mocha? Highway robbery!

And why is it that they make you feel stupid when you order something? I always say:

1 grande iced mocha with whipped cream

And they repeat it back to me, but never in the same order. I've tried to figure it out and order it correctly the next time, but they always just snicker and repeat it back to me a different way. It's like their speaking in snobby highly caffeinated tongues. They say something crazy like:

Mocha grande 1 iced whip!

They don't even say "whipped cream"...it's whip. They are too cool to fully pronounce words.

Bastards.

But I'm halfway through this grande iced mocha (no whip!), and I'm feeling the love. These things should be illegal 'cause I feel like could take on the world right now. Who am I kidding, give me 15 minutes, and I'll crash and be curled up in a fetal position on my desk.

It's A Hurricane...ooh Flossie Flossie

Hurricane Flossie skirted just south of Hawaii last night. This is only blog worthy to me because of the name...Flossie. Everytime I hear it, I think of that Fergie song, Glamorous. No, not the one where she's comparing her lover to her binky, the one that goes like this:

We flyin' first class
Up in the sky
Poppin' champagne
Livin' my life
In the fast lane
But I won't change
For the glamorous
Ooh, the flossy flossy

For those of your who are urban-slang challenged, flossy means flashy or showy. So, you can see where I make the connection. What can we expect next? Tropical Storm FoShizzleMyNizzle? Typhoon BlingBling?

fast food rant

If you know anything about me and my love for the efficiency of fast food...separate orders are a cardinal sin. I effing hate separate orders!!!! If you and your office mates decide to send someone out for McDonald's, total your order, and divide that shit, people. Unless Tammy, the receptionist with the eating disorder, goes crazy with the 2 apple pies for $1, and gets 14, you're not going to be out a whole lot of cash. And if there is just no way around it and separate orders are a must (as in my case), take that shit inside. DO NOT DO SEPARATE ORDERS AT THE DRIVE THRU!! The drive thru is for, "I'll have a #1 with a coke." Period. Next! And no elaborate special orders in the drive thru either. I can handle no pickles. But people get crazy.

Moron: I want a #1 except I don't want onion, tomato, cheese, or meat. Wait, I do want meat but I want the quarter pound patty, not the regular patty. And I don't want salt on my fries. And I want that value-sized, but not the drink. I want a small drink. Orange drink with no ice.

Guess what, sister? YOU DON'T WANT A #1. WHAT YOU ORDERED SHOWS NO RESEMBLANCE TO A #1. YOU JUST INVENTED A NEW COMBO FOR CRACK HEADS...AND TAKE THAT SHIT INSIDE!

And I understand that our fast food workers (God Bless 'em) are not always 100% accurate. I understand the need to check an order. But for the love of all things holy in this great land of ours, keep your self parked and check your order so that if something is missing, you can address the issue promptly. They will probably have you pull around to the front. It's easy! DO NOT PULL HALFWAY OUT OF THE DRIVE THRU LANE TO DISCOVER THAT THEY FORGOT YOUR EXTRA TARTAR SAUCE AND THEN YELL, 'HEY, YOU FORGOT MY TARTAR SAUCE!' I AM ON MY LUNCHBREAK, AND I DRIVE A JEEP GRAND CHEROKEE! THIS THING COULD DIE ANY MINUTE! YOU ARE HINDERING ME FROM GETTING MY LUNCH IN A TIMELY MANNER! TAKE THAT SHIT INSIDE!

I'm so not lovin' it.

1 Degree of Separation

I'm surrounded by the famous folk. Here's the skinny:

They are filming a movie across the street from our house. Making good use of that abandoned gas station by turning it into a redneck-y liquor store. I'm sure our property value with skyrocket when this gem comes out! Sarcasm aside, this movie stars:

Leann Rimes! And can I just say, "Dayyyuuuuuuummmm, Leann grew up!" But wait, there's more. Also starring in this blockbuster:

Dylan...err, I mean Luke Perry! Bitch please, don't act like you didn't watch 90210.

And if the movie stars right outside my house aren't enough, last night at a local Decatur coffee shop, Chris and I spotted none other than:

Chuck Roberts from CNN Headline News! Ok, so I guess you kind of have to a news geek to know who he is. I kept staring at him knowing he was "somebody." He was on his laptop surely working on a breaking news story. Probably on my final famous connection:

The Avondale Estates python! I know what you're thinking, but it's only a matter of time before that snake its popping it's head out of my toilet.

Snakes & Gas Grills

Yeah, I know it's been awhile, but hey...the magic comes when the magic comes, people. And oh, did the magic come this weekend.

Backyard Fun or the Hand of the Devil? You decide!

So first, I almost killed my girlfriend with a gas grill. We were grilling out Sunday night making one of Rachael Ray's 30 minute meals from Episode 1501 titled Sounds Appetizing. The night before, the grill got wet, so when I went to fire it up Sunday, it was a no go. I tried to light it several times with the igniter button...nothing. I kept turning the gas off so that it wouldn't build up, when out walks Chris.

Chris: What's going on?

Me: I can't get the grill to light.

Chris: I'll be right back.

She comes back with a book of matches. Let me just say...gas scares me. I don't like it. Yes, it's more convenient that charcoal, but I don't like it. We have a gas stove in our house. Again, I don't like it. So, I said, "you need to use this little wand thingy." It's a metal rod attached to the grill that you can put the match on so that you are standing AT A DISTANCE when you put the lit flame near the flammable gas. Either she didn't hear me or didn't care. Because I turned on the gas, she lit a match, and I begin to form the thought...this isn't such a good idea...when WOOOOOOOOOOOF! Fireball engulfs Chris. I turn away, then collect myself and run up to her repeating the frantic, "Are you ok, Are you ok?" only to see the hair from her arm, eyelashes, and top of her head have been singed. We're not talking Michael Jackson Pepsi commercial circa 1984, but it was scary nonetheless. I blame myself because I know better than to do that! Anxiety breeds extreme safety, people. To avoid such tragedies in the future, I am currently looking on Ebay to find a fire-proof suit for our next stint at outdoor grilling.

Second, as I type this, there is a 75-80% chance that there's a 7 foot python hanging out in our crawl space. And I'm sure he isn't this cute...

Last night I was watching the evening news, when they teased a story about a 7 foot boa constrictor spotted in a local Atlanta neighborhood. Ha ha, I thought, sucks to be you! So, I stick around to hear the rest of the story. The polished news lady says, "There is a 7 foot boa constrictor on the loose in Avondale Estates." My ears perk because Avondale Estates is not that far from us. So apparently, the snake is approximately 7 feet long and as big around as a thigh...not a chicken thigh, but like a burly man thigh. They were interviewing kids asking what they would do if they saw this snake. Most said they would run and scream, but you gotta love the one boy who said he would smack it in the head with a shovel. I joked with Chris that I thought we were okay unless the snake found it's way to Memorial and hung a right. Ha Ha...look at me, I'm witty. Well, today, I started thinking about Mr. Boa Constrictor, so I went to ajc.com and started reading:

Avondale's breakaway boa constrictor might not be a boa after all. The sneaky snake, spotted in the DeKalb County town last week, is more likely to be a Burmese python, one expert says.

Comforting, really.

[Mr. Python] was seen in a wooded area off Dartmouth Road near Forrest Hills Elementary School. Three workers searched a several acre-sized area for about three hours Friday, but turned up nothing.

Wait, did that say Forrest Hills Elementary? We live in Forrest Hills. I did a frantic google map search, and Forrest Hills Elementary is a whopping .8 miles from our house. Some reverse directions reveal that all Mr. Python would have to do is head south on Forrest Blvd. for 121 ft, Turn Right and proceed on N. Carter Road for .7 miles, and make another right onto Columbia Drive for .1 miles before arriving at his destination AKA our house. And if he takes MARTA, we're screwed.

Ramble

It's 10:39 a.m. on a Monday morning, and I'm high. It's not what you think, people. I'm no druggie. I'm high because I took a Xanax last night to ensure that I got a good night's sleep, and it kicked my ass. It all stems from the fact that my doctor wrote the prescription wrong. Instead of .05 mg, I got .5 mg. For those of you that are decimally challenged: .5 is bigger than .05. So, I popped this magic pill around 10:30 p.m. The last thing I remember was lying on Chris' shoulder watching her do a word search puzzle. I'm searching for Kissimmee (the theme was cities that begin with K). And can I just say that there should be a law agains words being both diagonal and backwards. That makes my head hurt, mmkay? The next thing I know it's 3 a.m., and I'm waking up from a nightmare involving lost shoes, a car chase, and bitch slapping someone's mama. Not that the dream is all that strange for me. My dreams are weird, drugs or no drugs. Oh, you would like to hear the details? Certainly!

It all starts with my friends B & C. Although, B is not B, she's one of my friends from high school, Lara. (People from high school regularly make appearances in my dreams.) So, really it's Lara and C. C really is C, by the way. So, it starts out with C and I going to B's (but really Lara's) parents house. For some reason, my shoes are there, and I need to get them. It was as if I spent the night there and left my shoes. So, I go in the house and I can't find my shoes. I'm asking her parents where they are, but they aren't helpful at all. The Dad finally says, "We hid them because you're a Republican." So, I tell C, "Let's get out of here." We get in C's car which is an old convertible something. We start backing out of the driveway, and the Dad comes out of the house and starts yelling at us not to come back. I turn around and yell, "Fuck off, you SOB!" Then, the Mom and Dad jump in a green truck and start chasing us. I tell C, "Step on it!" She starts giggling nervously and hits the gas which takes us up to a whopping 25 mph. I pull out my cell phone and try to dial 911, but the call won't go through. (This is another recurring theme in my dreams...problems dialing phones in emergency situations). I keep telling C that she needs to go faster, but that's as fast as it gets. We decide to ditch the convertible and try to escape on foot. All of a sudden we're at the top of a mountain looking down on the valley below, and I say, "Look, there's Taco Mac...we're getting close." About that time we run into a ballroom type place, and as I'm about to make my way out the back door, the Mom grabs me and says something that I can't hear or can't understand. I say, "I just want my shoes!" and I haul off and bitch slap her right in the face. Then I wake up.

So, I'm lying there trying to figure out what the hell dream means, and I think I hear a noise. Any time I hear a noise in the middle of the night, I do an animal check. If all the animals are in the room, then I investigate further. If Jack is missing, I assume that he's getting into something, and I fall back asleep. Chris always tries to convince me that any noise I hear is the refrigerator. Car horn, siren, glass breaking...it's the refirgerator. Anyhow, I do an animal check, and all the animals are in the room fast asleep. I decide to get up and investigate. I usually grab a baseball bat that I keep by me bed, but I am too out of it to prepare. I am literally drunk at this point, so I am stumbling around the house trying to be quiet so as to not wake Chris up or let the would-be burgular know that I'm on to him. A room by room search reveals no burgular, but I do stand at the front door trying to figure out who the extra car across the street belongs to. It's a gay boy couple who we have never talked to. We used to see them both alot, but then slowly we only started seeing the one. We assumed that they broke up, because we stopped seeing the silver sedan in the driveway. But then we noticed that the silver sedan was pulled around in back. AHA, we thought. Did the other guy kill him? Then this green truck (OMG...green truck, like from my dream!!) starts showing up on a pretty regular basis, but never parks in the driveway always on the street. Here's what I think, I think the silver sedan gay boy is sick and his partner is taking care of him, but he needs a little something something, so that's where green truck boy comes in, but he feels so guilty carrying on this illicit affair that he refuses to park in the driveway. So, I'm standing at the door last night trying to figure out who the marroon sedan is parked behind the green truck on the street and how that fits into my story. I decide that the gay boy is kinky and is having a threesome with green truck and maroon sedan while poor silver sedan lies in a hospital bed in the den watching QVC. Bastard.

By this time, I'm kind of awake so I turn on the TV and watch Modern Marvels: Welding on the History Channel. I get half way through and pass out again.

So, here I am having sucked down 3/4 of a large sweet tea, and I am still high. My boss came in here earlier and said, "Jeff E. called for you Friday afternoon. He can't get on the internet." I responded with, "Awww...that's too bad for Jeff." Then I sobered up really quick with, "I'll give him a call."

I'm a hop skip and a jump from shaving my head and going to rehab, people. Just say no.

:P <--- Not me

So, I went to the dentist today, and I got a clean bill of health. No cavities for me! If you don't recall why a simple dental cleaning is blog worthy, feel free to revisit a certain post entitled The Importance of Oral Hygiene.

But actually, something out of the ordinary did happen. The cleaning was over and Dr. G came in to check out my teeth. While she was looking around she said, "You know, we can do something about your tongue." I instantly puff up, "What's wrong with my tongue?" Actually, it came out more like, "Wha wong wi my thon?" She explained, "you're tongue tied." Ok, so once again, I am bearing my soul and defective body parts for you people, I hope you appreciate it. So you know how there is that membrane that connects your tongue to the bottom of your mouth? Well, I guess mine is a little longer than it's supposed to be. There is a name for it and everything, Anklyoglossia. It can cause speech problems if severe enough, but in my case in just means that I can't stick out my tongue.

[Enter your own "lesbian who can't stick out her tongue" joke here]

Apparently, they can laser that bad boy, and voila, instant Gene Simmons. I said, something like, "Ok, I'll keep that in mind." So then, I called Chris.

Me: You're never going to believe what Dr. G said to me.

CJ: What, more cavities?

Me: No, she said she could laser that thing under my tongue.

CJ: So, when are you doing it?

Me: Wait, wha...

CJ: Let's see, you will probably need someone to drive you home. I'm free anytime next week. I could block out time in May as well...no wait, I've got that big project coming up...oh screw it, this is much more important.

Then I call my Mom who tells me that my sister had her tongue clipped when she was a baby. "I guess yours just wasn't that bad," she says. "Tell that to my girlfriend," I thought.

So, I might be getting my tongue clipped sometime in the near future. I just wonder if it's going to make me talk differently. Or if in the middle of polite conversation, my unencumbered tongue might unfurl onto my plate.

::Sigh:: Why, must these things always happen to me?

The search is over...

I finally decided that since I couldn't find the perfect red t-shirt for GayDay at Disney, that I would just design my own. Here 'tis:The pic is really small, but it's two women with the text "drunk straight girls need not apply" underneath. Although, I do owe getting laid in my early 20's to drunk straight girls. But that's a another t-shirt for another time.

VA Tech

I had the urge to write a post Monday morning whining about how I couldn't sleep Sunday night. I spent the entire night watching the History Channel. But then the shootings at Virginia Tech happened, and bitching about insomnia didn't seem so appropriate.

So, this is just a plea to my blog readers (all 3 of you): can we please stop shooting each other? Can we just make it a little more difficult for someone to walk into a gun shop and buy a 9mm glock? Can we please teach our kids how to deal with anger/rejection/disappointment in a healthy way? And if your 23 year-old college kid is depressed, has no friends, and doesn't talk, get him some fucking help, no matter what the neighbors might think.

A typical Thursday night...

No, not Pavlov's dogs...the other ones

My mother-in-law was in town last week. Simply refer you to my archives...look up November 2006, and you'll get a pretty good idea of how my week was. Truthfully, it wasn't all that bad this time. Other than the underlying tone of misery, the overuse of the word shit, and the threats to move in with us, things went just great. ::clenched smile::

Last time she visited, I was all up in arms, and posting everyday about what she had done. Now, I just don't have the energy. I'm like one of those dogs from the learned helplessness experiments in the 60's. I'll just take the shock. I won't even try to avoid it, much less complain about it.

I do know this, I think a little more time needs to pass before Mommie Dearest comes back to visit. And when she does, there's a lovely Holiday Inn right down the street.

These are Days

Can I just say that back in 1993 I so wanted to marry Natalie Merchant? I loved her so. It wouldn't have worked though. She wouldn't take too kindly to my conservative (read: NOT REPUBLICAN) ways.

Best.Day.Ever

WTF Moment of the Day

Ok, so I'm sitting here at work minding my own business when there is a knock at the door. If someone knocks, it's usually a sales call. I say, "Come in!" As I am about to give my "We have a policy against solicitors," speech, I notice that it's housekeeping. She seems surprised then says, "Oh, am I early?" I look at the clock and it's 3:30 p.m. Uh yeah, since you usually come after hours.

But whatever, I can go with the flow. If anything, I'm flexible. So, I say, "it's ok, come on in." She does. What I don't realize is that she is on her cell phone. She's talking to her child who apparently had just gotten home from school and is hungry. But that's ok because there's meatloaf in the fridge but no mashed potatoes. I know all this because the entire time she was in here cleaning, she talked on her cell phone. THE ENTIRE TIME. One point, her assistant (aka her teenage son, I know this because when he came in he said, "Mooooom" in that whiny way teenagers do) came in and they had an entire conversation. Something about him wanting to leave and her saying, "What, you don't want to work anymore?" Then, thank God my phone rings so I don't have to sit there and try to look occupied. While I'm on the phone, she comes up behind me and says, EXCUSE ME, so she can put the trash can back under my desk. I'm like, WTF, I'm on the phone!!! This is a business!!! Nevermind that I was talking to my girlfriend at the time. It's the principle of the matter!!

And as I type this, I swear she's right outside my door vacuuming. Oh no wait, now she's mopping and every once in awhile, SLAM, the mop head hits my door. And oh yes, that's the lovely smell of ammonia wafting through the air.

Me and Lady Lysol are going to have words before this is over. I can feel it.

run a carbon black test on my jaw and you will find, it's all been said before

R.E.M. (my favorite band in the world) is being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame tonite in New York City. I thought I would take this oppurtunity to list my all-time favorite R.E.M. songs. How exciting for you!

1. Radio Free Europe (Murmur)
2. Don't Go Back to Rockville (Reckoning)
3. South Central Rain (Reckoning)
4. Superman (Life's Rich Pageant)
5. Document (The Entire Album)
6. World Leader Pretend (Green)
7. Hairshirt (Green)
8. Losing My Religion (Out of Time)
9. Automatic for the People (The Entire Album)
10. What's the Frequency, Kenneth? (Monster)
11. New Test Leper (New Adventures in Hi Fi)
12. Be Mine (New Adventures in Hi Fi)
13. Daysleeper (Up)

And yes, I know all the lyrics to "It's the End of the World as We Know (And I Feel Fine)."

Try me.

Diapers, Canned Air & A Lesbian With Power Tools

CAPE CANAVERAL, Florida (AP) -- Astronaut Lisa Nowak was fired from NASA on Wednesday, a month after she was charged with trying to kidnap a woman she regarded as her romantic rival for the affection of a space shuttle pilot.

...wait for it...

That's the way the diaper droops. (Ba-dum-bum.)

In other news of the not-so-obvious variety, can I just say how much I love canned air?
Not only have a blasted enough crumbs out of my keyboard to recreate an entire lunch, I have also dusted my entire desk, detailed my car, AND cleaned out my belly button. Although the latter might have left me with a wee bit of frost bite. No biggie though, navel sensation is overrated anyhow.

The view out of my office window is gorgeous today. Nice and sunny. And my trip to lunch confirms that it's warm as well. This is the time of year where I get all inspired to do yard work. I'm planning on doing some planting this weekend, maybe some ground cover in the back yard near Abba Avenue aka Poopy Trail. (Brief explanation, our special needs dog has serious OCD, and when we first got her she wore a path from the deck to her bathroom spot. The path just got worse and worse to where it was almost a trench, so Chris and I finally edged it with about 1000 brick pavers and lined it with 4 inches of mulch. We named it Abba Avenue. Well, since the unfortunate incident with the car running through our yard and the subsequent repairs, Abba refuses to go into the back yard but chooses to poop on her trail, hence the new name Poopy Trail). So, ground covering by Poopy Trail or I might tackle planting some border plants on either side of our walkway in the front yard. The front yard project will involve power tools (i.e. electric edger), so I'm leaning toward that a little.

Wish me luck!

Dang It x 2

I missed the lunar eclipse tonite because I got swept away in cleaning the bathroom. :/

In other news, Dove Chocolates (the ones individually wrapped in foil) are the new crack.

Carry on.

Dang It!

I forgot my lunch again. :/

Not much to say...

Not alot going on this week, hence the lack of posts. The biggest news of the week:

• I was weak and signed up for another 2-year agreement with Cingular so that I could get a new phone. It's a kick ass phone, and I'm psyched. Per FedEx tracking, it's on my back porch right now. Whoop whoop!

• After a mysterious absence, Luda is back working the drive thru at Wendy's. Wha wha? Everybody now:

Watch out my outfit's ridiculous
In the club looking so conspicuous

• My dog has the uncanny ability to chew the buttons off of shirts without damaging the shirt at all. She's done this twice in the last week. As a result, I spent 2 hours last night doing nothing but sewing buttons. How domestic of me!

How you doin'?

While getting my lunch at Arby's today, the drive-thru attendant called me honey (twice!) and baby.

Big J loves the fast food and apparently the feeling is mutual.

"And he knew what else he wanted..."

Mr. Bungle. I so remember watching this in elementary school. I used to harass my best friend in our adult years because she didn't remember who he was.

Gotta Love YouTube

You have got to be kidding me...

The Apocalypse is upon us.

Trash bags aren't for licking.

All morning long I have smelled doughnuts. At first, I thought my office mate was hoarding the tasty pastry in his office and not sharing. Then I thought the people down the hall were having a doughnut party and didn't invite me. Next, I thought that I might have a brain tumor, doughnut-shaped, of course. God does have a sense of humor after all.

None of the above. Apparently, when emptying the office trash, housekeeping replaced my trash bag with a vanilla scented variety. A word of caution though, although the vanilla smell is very realistic, the taste...not so much. It's just what I've heard. Not that I know this first hand.

Ahem.

For My Valentine

Chris and I will be celebrating our 7th Valentine's Day this year. In honor of such, here is an email I wrote her a month or so after we met.

Date: June 10, 999
Subject: 7 minutes before 3:00 a.m.

i can't sleep. not that i don't want to. it's not that i'm not tired. maybe it's that two hour nap i took at 7:45 p.m. ( a really bad time for a nap, don't you think?) or maybe it was the two glasses of tea i drank while i was talking to you at 1:00 a.m. (really bad time for tea, no?) i read your poetry tonite. all of it. maybe that's why i can't sleep. it could be you, i suppose, wandering around through my head. i keep closing my eyes and i keep thinking about what it would be like if you were here. how good it would feel for you to be lying next to me. how i would sleep like a baby then, but probably wouldn't want to if you were here. i know that i must be frustrating with my indecision which i am slowly trying to overcome. i am scared. not of you. not of us, but exactly the opposite. the "not you." the "not us." the absence of what i have felt with you over the past few weeks because it's gone away before, you know. and i don't think i want it to go away. but i am still afraid to let it in. i told you that i couldn't get you out of my head. that was true. but it's not my head that worries me. i don't think it's my head that won't let me sleep at 3:10 a.m. could be that nap though. or the caffeine. or quite possibly...you.

slow is good.

i have no problem with slow.

i just wish slow would hurry up a little.

8

Dear Publix,

As a frequent shopper, I must say that I appreciate your "carryout service," in which your grocery baggers offer to take groceries out to one's car. I have even seen signs discouraging tipping as this is free service you offer. A very nice gesture, indeed.

However, you might want to address the issue of the "overly aggressive bagger" or OAB. The OAB does not ask if they can carry out one's groceries but insist by placing a death grip on the cart and refusing to let go. Is it really necessary that I have to physically wrangle my cart away from the OAB? Shouldn't a "no, thank you, I can manage two cans of soup and mini-pads" suffice?

Just a thought.

For the record...

I am not the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby.

Houston, we have a problem...

I'm sitting here at work listening to Patsy Cline's "Crazy" (I LOVE Patsy Cline!), and I can't help but imagine that the Astronaut could have possibly been listening to the very song on her trek from Houston to Orlando:

Crazy... for thinkin' that my love could hold you
I'm crazy for tryin', and crazy for cryin'
And I'm crazy for lovin' you

No, baby...you're crazy because you put on a diaper, filled your car with the real-life versions of the Clue gameboard pieces, drove 900 miles, and sprayed somebody in the face with pepper spray. When you departed from the space station, did you leave your mind behind, per chance?

It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday

Not really.

That sappy song by Boys II Men was my high school graduating class' song. I just got word that we're having a 15-year reunion in May. We didn't have a 10-year reunion because the organizers were morons. Not that I would have gone anyway.

I will not be partaking in these festivities either. I have no desire to see these people. I am perfectly happy spying on them from MySpace.

In the ghetto...

I hate my office for the following reasons:

• Inefficient Heating/Cooling: It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. For the winter months, I have space heaters in each of our offices. But apparently, the building is not wired to handle such loads. Which brings me to my next bullet:
• I constantly blow fuses. Turn on a heater, run the microwave and KABLOOEY there goes half of the outlets. Look, I live in a 50 year old house, ok? Blown fuses are a fact of life. But in an office building built in 2003? I think not. If I am at home, I can simply reset the breaker. But not at the office, because....
• We have no building maintenance. He (yes, just one guy) quit about a year ago. Did they replace him? No.
• I have evidence that Housekeeping is partaking in our drinks/snacks. I found an open bottle of water by the fax machine this morning. I don't drink water, and the other office occupant wasn't in last week. They also rearrange items on my desk.
• No signage. We've been here for 3 years and we still don't have signage. The only thing that denotes our office from the other string of doors is the marker I created with an 8 1/2 x 11 sheet of paper, Microsoft Word, and scotch tape.

I don't know if I can work in such conditions much longer.