Around 7 Sunday morning, Fred came and woke me up and told me to come downstairs. Once there, he led me out back, where the gray tabby was sitting, and within a few minutes, the tabby was not only letting Fred pet him (it was a he – and he hasn’t been neutered), but he was sitting in Fred’s lap, purring up a storm. He let me pet him several times, and I went inside and grabbed the camera to take a closeup picture of him. He obligingly flopped down in the grass and posed, though wouldn’t look directly at me. When I came back outside from getting the camera, Miz Poo followed me out. She got about a foot from the back door, saw the tabby, and puffed up. They moved toward each other, and I was just standing there until Fred said "You’d better put her inside." So I put Miz Poo back inside and went to take pictures of the tabby. He was as friendly as he could be, purring and rubbing and flopping down to roll around in the grass. He wasn’t wearing a collar, but he seemed to be in good shape, so we thought he probably had a home somewhere. Fred was happily petting the tabby until I took a step or did something unexpected – I’m not sure what, exactly – and the tabby scratched Fred’s hand. Fred decided he didn’t like the cat anymore, and kept his distance. From inside the house, Tubby closely watched everything we did, an intense look of hatred on his face. Finally, we went inside, and the tabby hung around for a little longer, and then headed off to points unknown. Monday morning, I was sleeping soundly when Fred came and woke me up to tell me that while he was snoozing on the couch with the back door open so that our cats could go in and out at will, the tabby had tried to come in the house. Fred chased him off, and as the tabby ran by Fancypants, who was sitting in the middle of the back yard, Fancypants took it upon his stupid-ass self to try to start a fight. Fred shooed the tabby off before Fancypants could get his ass kicked. He’s a good little cat (the tabby, that is. NOT Fancypants), and mighty friendly, but it kinda pisses me off that he’s coming around so much – our dumbass cats hiss and growl at him and try to start fights, so I feel like we can’t leave the back door open all the time for them to go out, because they’ll either get out there and pick a fight and get their asses kicked, or the tabby will try to come inside, and believe you me, I do NOT need another shedding machine running around here. I have no idea how old he is – he’s small, so he may still be a kitten – and I have no idea whether he’s got a home, or if someone moved and left him behind, or what the story is. He’s not wearing a collar, and thus isn’t wearing an id tag. Neither of us is inclined to call Animal Control, because if no one claims him, they’ll put him to sleep, and like I said, he’s a really good little cat. Fred suggested that we make sure all our cats are up-to-date on their shots, and just let the tabby hang around. But Fancypants is an aggressive asshole sometimes. He came around this morning, and I took a can of air out and sprayed it at him. He didn’t seem too terribly frightened, but he did run off into the neighbors’ back yard. And of COURSE I felt bad for scaring him off. But what can I do? Our cats have to come first, and since the entire reason we put up the fence was so that they could go into the back yard, I guess from here on out I’ll scare him off when I see him. I really wish, if he has a home, that his owners would put a collar and id tag on him. Of course, I’m one to talk. Fancypants often jumps our fence to explore the neighbors’ yards, and he doesn’t wear a collar or id tag either. I’m going to remedy that this week, though – I ordered an engraved id tag, which will be here in a few days. The only problem will lay in finding a collar to fit around his skinny little neck. Y’all, what does Chanel No. 5 smell like? Everyone always raves about what a classic scent it is and how much they like it, but I’ve never smelled it. It’s so expensive that I don’t want to spring for a bottle of it, but I’m really curious to know what it smells like. If anyone out there wears it and would be willing to spray a piece o’ paper with it and send it to me, I’d be grateful. Of course, as expensive as it is, you might not want to waste it like that! According to the description – Contains bergamot, lemon, jasmine and is accented with rose, vanilla and amber. – it sounds like it’s right up my alley.]]>


Isn’t it gorgeous how green everything is? Part of what I love about going to get our chickens is the drive through Hartselle, which to me is the perfect small town. The other thing I really like is how much land the people who raise the chickens we buy have. The driveway to their house always seems endless. The dog, who likes to keep an eye on everything. He is, as Fred would say, a DAWG. He walked over, sniffed at our tires, and then wandered off into the woods. One of the chickens running around. This is a family pet, I guess, because the chickens they sell are kept in a pasture, but this one and a couple of others are allowed to run around and eat the dog’s food, and there’s even a little swimming pool for them. They have a pet duck, but it wasn’t around this time. This is the swimming pool, but not the one I mentioned above for the chickens – that one is a small blue one. I wonder how they keep the duck out of the pool, or if they do. Near the house, there’s a little playhouse. Cute, isn’t it? I’d kinda like one of these for myself! As we were driving away, we spotted a rabbit. Of course, we got all excited and had to stop and take a picture, because we’re dorks. You can’t really see him, but he’s sitting near the base of the tree, on the right side of the tree. There’s a closeup below. Okay people, you got your picture. Move it along… More gorgeous scenery. Horses! These horses aren’t part of the farm where we got the chickens, but we passed them on the same road. I swear to you, these horses were all looking in my direction one second, and the next they all had their asses pointed toward me. This guy lifted his head and looked at me a couple of times, but do you suppose I managed to get a picture of it? Of course not. Hay! Fields! Pretty! Scenery outside the gas station. Scenery in the parking lot while I was waiting for Fred to come out of Subway with our dinner. Defilement of a happy face sticker will be a crime when I’m Queen of the world. Wiggins St! Hee! Every summer, I end up obsessed with one sort of tree or plant. This year, it’s the primroses that grow wild everywhere. I took several pictures of them, because I think you should be obsessed with them as well. One of the things I like about going to Hartselle is driving down Main St. To me, it looks like a perfect all-American town, and I keep telling Fred that one day we need to go park and walk down the street. There are a lot of big, old houses I love to look at. Unfortunately, it’s a busy street, and I didn’t get any pictures of my favorite houses. I love old houses with deep porches. I think this house is actually empty, and probably not in very good shape. I’d love to see the inside, though. The moon! I don’t know why, but it always fascinates me when I can see the moon while it’s still daylight out. Back in Madison, this is a house I really like to look at while I’m out walking. Fred said "What a junky car! Take a picture!" So I did. Okay, that’s it for today. See y’all tomorrow! ]]>


Dinner last night: Foot-long veggie delite on white, no mayo, no cheese, and a bag o’ WOW Doritos. I meant to take a picture of the actual food I had for dinner last night, but by the time we got home it was TWO HOURS past dinner time, and you just can’t get between a fat woman and her food in such a situation. It was good, though. I love me some Subway. Dinner tonight: Chips and salsa, top, and the #1, bottom – 2 chicken enchiladas, 1 beef taco, and rice. A nearby Mexican restaurant just opened – tonight was it’s first night – and we went to check it out. I can get Fred to go out to eat maybe once a month, so I was excited when he suggested we go out. The food was pretty good – not the best I’ve ever had, but I’ve certainly had way worse. (I would have taken a picture of the inside of the restaurant, because it was pretty cute, but Fred thought I was making a spectacle of myself with the pictures I did take, so I refrained). I took a thousand and one pictures on our trip to the farm to pick up our free-range chickens yesterday (uh, to eat. We’re going to eat the chickens, I’m not sure if I ever made that clear. I’m thinking the people on either side of us wouldn’t be too happy if we brought home chickens and let them loose in the back yard. Though Tubby could probably herd them.Or at least sit and meow bitchily at them…), but I don’t know when I’ll get that entry done. I had planned to put them in today’s entry, but it’s going to take a long time to write that one, and I’ve spent a large part of the day sitting on my ass (which is also a large part. Har.) in front of the computer doing things on the other website (what? You think you’re the only website in my life, huh?), so I’m thinking that won’t happen today. Maybe over the weekend, maybe one day next week, who knows? It’s a crapshoot ’round these parts. Today? A good mail day! And I think you know what that means. That’s right, I got REAL mail in the P.O. box! Von is my secret pal for April on the (now defunct) TMS list, and the assignment for this month was to do something crafts-y. Von went all out! First, the box: The note next to the painted frog is from Von telling me that a dog hair got caught in the tape when she was taping up the package. I know how it goes – every single time I tape up a package to send, 45,000 cat hairs get caught in the tape. Inside the box: Is this the coolest thing, or what? I always eye the boxes similar to these when we’re in Gatlinburg, but they always have some sort of horse or mountain stenciled on the top, so I pass ’em by. And inside the box, herbal bath tea! According to the tag, it’s an aromatherapy blend of organic botanical herbs and spices with sea and mineral salts. And DAMN does it smell good. It’s reusable! Whee! But what’s the coolest of all is what’s on the bottom of the box: Is it awesome, or what? You made my day, Von – thank you! I sent my secret pal, Joanna, a batch of the best chocolate chip cookies ever. They’re not my recipe, they’re a recipe I got off the web somewhere, but they’re SO DAMN GOOD. Baking’s not terribly crafty, but as I told Joanna, I started a cross-stitch picture for my sister for her birthday 5 years ago, and I’m not done yet! (I’m working on it, Deb, really I am!) Friday Five: 1. What are your hobbies? This site, that site, reading, and the occasional cross-stitching take up the majority of my time. I guess taking pictures could be considered a hobby, too. 2. Do you collect anything? I used to collect shot glasses, but I think that’s one of the things I’ll be giving away in the next giveaway, because I’ve pretty much stopped. I do seem to collect things that are bright yellow or have smiley faces on them, though. 3. Is there a hobby you’re interested in, but just don’t have the time/money to do? I’d like to develop the hobby of sitting on my ass in my oceanfront million-dollar estate and leering at the half-dressed, very young pool boy while famous people grovel at my feet, please. 4. Have you ever turned a hobby into a moneymaking opportunity? Nope. 5. Besides web-related stuff (burbs, rings, etc.), what clubs do you belong to? I don’t belong to any real-life clubs. I’ve never been a joiner. It takes too much effort.]]>


Unfried chicken (the coating came off the top when I turned it. Grrr!), 2 half ears of corn, and a big-ass serving o’ pole beans. I don’t know what we’ll be having for dinner tonight – probably sandwiches, because we have to drive for a million years to the farm where we get our free-range chickens, and we’ll get home too late to cook, so everyone will be responsible for getting their own food. No doubt whatever Fred makes for himself will look better to me than whatever I make for myself, and vice versa, ’cause that’s always the way it goes. Damn, my monitor is filthy. When I can’t see what I’m reading anymore, I might think about cleaning it… So, here’s a rule of life you can count on. When the guy who’s coming to check out your dishwasher is supposed to come between 12:30 and 3:30, and you’ve decided to wait until 11:30 to take your shower, because you want to do some housecleaning while you’re still wearing your stinky exercise clothes, he will call at 11, say he’s 15 minutes away, and ask if it’s okay to come now. You will tell him that’s fine, think to yourself that 15 minutes is plenty of time to finish sweeping the kitchen and then go change, and continue sweeping the kitchen. He will knock on your door 5 minutes after he called, just as you’re getting to the end of the sweeping. You will panic and sweep all the crap under the refrigerator, and go answer the door. Trust me. I let the service guy in to check out the dishwasher, and he asked a few questions, which I answered the best I could because let’s be honest – I don’t pay that much attention to the dishwasher and the sounds it makes. He started it up to see what it would do, listened for half a second, and said (approximately) "Your air gap floopy is clogged." "My what?" I said with great intelligence and cunning, showing him that I knew what was what and wouldn’t be talked down to. "Your air gap floopy." He reached over to the sink, removed the silver cover: unscrewed the plastic cover, and removed a large piece of spinach-looking gunk from the air gap floopy. Apparently, that wasn’t a built-in soap dispenser, as we’d assumed lo these many months. Good thing we never tried to use it as one. "That should take care of it," the service guy said. We stood around and listened, he commented that we must have cats (because of the refrigerator magnets), but he didn’t see any, I explained that they’re scared of strangers and were most likely hiding under the beds upstairs, and then awkward silence ensued. Self, I thought to myself, if that’s really all it takes to fix this problem, then I’m going to kick your ass. (Pause to visualize that, won’t you?) Because SURELY clearing the air gap floopy is covered in the MANUAL that came WITH the dishwasher, which the previous owners kindly left behind, and YOU didn’t even bother to look. And when I’m done kicking your ass, I’m going to kick Fred’s, ’cause he didn’t look either. To my relief, after about ten minutes, the washer made some sort of noise, and the service guy took out his drill and pretty much had to take the dishwasher apart. I wandered off to sit in front of the computer and pay bills while he worked. After 20 minutes, the mystery was solved. We need (I only know this because he wrote it on the bill) a new sequencing switch. I’d tell you what it is, since he so carefully explained it to me, but I could feel his words going in one ear and out the other, so I’ll simply tell you that it’s something the dishwasher needs and it’s important and all. Since the dishwasher’s no longer under warranty (of course), he promised to call when the part was in (3 -10 business days) with an estimate. Sucks to be the spud about now, since she’s the one responsible for washing the dishes after dinner. Just call her Spuderella. —–]]>


Creamy Harvest Pasta. I liked it a lot, but Fred didn’t, because it didn’t have meat in it. He’s a meat and potatoes kinda guy. Baby romaine salad with honey-mustard dressing. Just so you know, this bowl is NOT the same size as the one above. In fact, it’s about a quarter of the size. I should start sizing the pictures to reflect that, shouldn’t I? I got a spam from someone at Bust yesterday, "reminding" me about, to quote from the email, a special offer from BUST magazine and bust.com. It’s called “The BUSTshop,” and it’s a program we designed specifically for smaller companies and artists with limited ad budgets, to help them get the best exposure for their advertising dollar. For just $250, you get an ad in BUST magazine, read by over 300,000 hip, smart women ages 18-34, and you ALSO get a 120×60 pixel web button on www.bust.com–our award-winning website with over 250,000 visitors a month!–for the full three months that the magazine is on the newsstands. (The button ad alone is worth over $1,000—so this combo is a great deal!) I have to agree, it sounds like quite a bargain. But what is it I’m supposed to be selling? Tubby? (Oh wait, I’ve already got a buyer for Tubby, if Fred would let me sell him!) Hey, speaking of Tubby, here’s another old picture of him I found last week: I was in the grocery store yesterday, doing the mid-week shopping (Fred does the big shopping trip on Saturday mornings (though I did it this past Saturday), but we always manage to run out of a bunch of stuff between Tuesdays and Saturdays), when I saw a couple of really cute plants: I wanted to buy them, so I did. Even though "plants" wasn’t on the list and neither was "useless shit we neither need nor have room for." So there! That’s a Gloxinia on the left, and – according to the tag – a Hypoestes on the right. I’m a copycat, because Nance bought a white-and-green Hypoestes a few weeks ago, and I’ve been wanting one ever since. (Hey look, Nance! Backup to my claim that they get "leggy" after a while!) And, because I feel like I haven’t shared NEARLY enough kitty pictures with you lately and I don’t want you to go into withdrawal: Shortly before he kicked his hind legs up into the air and started licking furiously like the perv he is. Almost looks there might be a flash of intelligence in there, doesn’t it? Don’t be fooled. Sittin’ on the bookcase and pondering the birds outside. I’m waiting for the dishwasher repairman to get his butt here. Our dishwasher, over the past few months, has started to not drain all the way at the end of it’s cycle. Fred finally called Mr. Rooter, who came, looked, and claimed it was because we hadn’t run the garbage disposal, and food in there was blocking it. $65 for that bullshit. Bargain, eh? Since then, I’ve been getting the dishwasher to drain by hitting "start" and then "reset". That worked for a few weeks, but as of today, it ain’t workin’ anymore. I’ve probably broken it or something, and we’ll have to lay out $24,349.53 to buy a new one, and it’ll all be MY fault. Gah. This is why it takes hours to write an entry sometimes. Because I have to reach around a portly Poo.]]>


pretty cool site while I was reading a magazine (I don’t remember which one it was) over the weekend. For $6 a month, you can borrow two paperbacks (they only have paperbacks) at a time, and your membership covers the shipping. You order 2 paperbacks, read them, and return them in the postpaid envelope they send you. Depending on your membership level, you can have 2, 4, or 6 paperbacks checked out at one time. I don’t necessarily need a membership myself, since I have about a year’s worth of books waiting to be read at any given time, but I got a "bronze" membership for the spud. She’s decided that she likes Carol Higgins Clark, and I don’t have any of the books around still. I’m all kinds of twitchy today, because my bra’s bothering the hell out of me. I’ll go for days where wearing a bra feels just fine, but then I’ll start getting all twitchy. I think it’s got something to do with the fact that my period will be starting on Wednesday. Too much information? Nah! So, my FUCKING computer was being a pain in the ass yesterday morning, even after I’d rebooted three times, so I turned it off and flounced off to read. As I passed by the kitchen, I glanced out the window and caught sight of the Bradford pear tree in the back yard, next to the shed. I had Fred buy a big pair of clippers the last time he was at Lowe’s specifically so I could prune the tree, but hadn’t gotten around to it in the last month. This gives you some idea of what the tree looked like, only it had leaves. So I went out in the garage and grabbed the clippers, went out back and spent 20 minutes chopping like a madwoman. Then I went over and chopped on the other tree, and now they both look great. If you look closely at the bottom picture, you’ll see a nosy Miz Poo sitting amongst the branches. Or see the closeup: There’s nothing that cat likes more than to be in the middle of things. The flowerbed I took a picture of on April 8th is looking a lot better these days. The rose bushes haven’t grown much, but the Petunias are just happy as can be. That’s a little hedgehog next to the planter, by the way. I bought it for $3 at the grocery store about a year ago. I slept like a rock last night for the first time in weeks. I used to sleep on the side of the bed referred to as "Fred’s side." We’d lay on our respective sides, then he’d get up and go to his room, and I’ve go around the bed and sleep on his side. During the "recovery" weeks, he stayed in the master bedroom with me a couple of times, and I got into the habit of just sleeping on my own side whether he was there or not, and I tossed and turned a lot. Last night, he toddled off to his own room around 9:30, and I decided to try out his side of the bed again. After reading for about half an hour, I could hardly keep my eyes open, so I turned off the light and turned over. I fell asleep immediately, and slept in the same position all night long. That’s the good part. The bad part is that I had a long, involved dream about cleaning out the litter box. Can’t win ’em all, I s’pose. We’ve spent the past two evenings watching Eco-Challenge: New Zealand on USA. I love that show almost as much as I love Survivor. Not surprising, I guess, since they’re both Mark Burnett shows. My favorite team by far is Team Earthlink, because two of the members of that team were on the winning team, Team Eco-Internet the year before. The captain of Team Eco-Internet, Ian, tossed two of his team members off the team, and they – as Holly Hunter put it in voiceover the first night – muscled their way on to Team Earthlink. One of the team members he kicked off is Robyn Benincasa, and he tossed her because she has asthma problems, apparently. I love Robyn Benincasa. She rocks. And I hope she kicks Ian’s ass from here to Timbuktu and back. I also liked Team GO, though it doesn’t seem they have much of a chance of winning. I hope like hell that Team Earthlink wins. Or at least Team Eco-Internet DOESN’T. Have I ever mentioned that I like reality TV? Note to self: Get life.]]>


Saturday’s dinner. That’s a hamburger under that pale piece of iceberg lettuce. Cooked on the George Foreman grill! Those are oven-baked (homemade) fries, and a bowl o’ pole beans. Sunday’s dinner – Vietnamese Honey Roasted Chicken (this was the first time I made it – and it’s SO DAMN GOOD) with the skin removed (I forgot to get a picture of the whole chicken before we took it apart), jasmine rice with some of the leftover pan drippings on top, and steamed yellow squash (Wendy suggests serving sliced cucumbers, but we didn’t have any cucumbers, and I didn’t feel like going out, for I am a lazy wench). I didn’t eat that entire chicken breast half, by the way – in fact, I only ate about half of it. God, you know what I’d do if I were famous like Russell Crowe? I’d totally do a Google search on myself, and then when I ran across this entry of Kymm’s (read the part at the bottom), I’d find out where she lives and just SHOW UP one day, knock on her door and take her to lunch. Because HOW FUCKING COOL would it be to make someone’s year like that, to just show up and see the expression on their face? If I ever won the lottery, I’d give money to people who could use it, anonymously. You know? Send $10,000 to a single mother of two who’s having a hard time of it and imagine the look on her face when she opens her door to find an envelope of cash sitting there. The best job in the world has GOT to be working with the group that goes around with Publisher’s Clearing House and hands out those big-ass checks. Oh, man. Al has a great proposal story. Actually made me tear up, it did. Although I’m not really a big-wedding kinda gal, sometimes I wish I had the whole big shebang, and walked down the aisle in a white dress and danced at my reception and all that. Hey, Fred and I should renew our vows on our fifth anniversary (this year will be four years) and y’all could come! I’m just kidding. But it’d be cool, wouldn’t it? I downloaded If I Close My Eyes Forever from Say’s blog on Friday, and I’ve been listening to it over and over again. I just love the hell out of that song, but when I played it for Fred, he said he’d never heard it. Freak. I had forgotten how much I really like Ozzy, and I downloaded Crazy Train, Momma I’m Coming Home, Bark at the Moon, and Dreamer via Grokster over the weekend. Crazy Train makes me think of the many times I worked the closing shift at McDonald’s, and once we were closed to customers, we’d put Ozzy in the tape player and blast it as loud as the closing manager would let us. We happened to catch the latest Osbournes episode last night (I already saw it Tuesday night, but Fred hadn’t), and when Ozzy was onstage Fred pointed out that he seems like a completely different person. He seems to be really THERE, you know? When he’s shuffling around the house, it’s like only about a quarter of his mind is aware of what’s going on, but when he’s on stage (or even in his video, the bit of it that we saw), he seems really sharp and completely aware. I read in Entertainment Weekly recently that he said he only feels alive when he’s drinking or doing drugs. We watched Domestic Disturbance over the weekend, and it wasn’t bad for completely empty entertainment – but it was a little jarring, the way Vince Vaughn went from apparent good guy to bad guy so quickly, and also the way one second John Travolta didn’t believe his kid, and the next he did. What can you expect from a movie that’s less than ninety minutes long? Also, John Travolta holds his face EXACTLY like Billy Bob Thornton in Slingblade. EXACTLY. I probably wouldn’t have noticed, except that we just watched Slingblade last weekend, and Fred’s been walking around saying "I b’lieve one o’ them fellers was from Arkansas. Mmm-hmm." We leave one of our windows open part-way for most of the day so that the cats can go out into the back yard if they want. Over the past three days, I’ve rescued approximately 23,987 baby dragonflies, who fly in to check out the situation, and then forget how they got in. It’s not easy to rescue a baby dragonfly, just so you know, because they’re very touchy about being convinced to hop onto a fly swatter and then ride to the nearest open window or door. But I can’t NOT rescue them – that’d just be wrong. The wasps and flies, on the other hand, are another story altogether. If I can’t get ’em with the fly swatter, I suck ’em into the vacuum cleaner. The big flies make a very satisfying THWOOMP! sound as they fly down the attachment tube. Some day one of them will figure out how to get out of the vacuum cleaner and come after me.]]>


On the left, my entree – angel hair pasta with sauteed garlic and onions and a sprinkle of parmesan. In the center, what Fred and the spud had – spaghetti sauce with browned ground turkey, black olives, mushrooms and onions over angel hair, and a healthy sprinkle of parmesan on top. On the right, the vegetable for this meal – okra. It was overcooked and mushy, though. Bleh. Holy cow. I just went to the post office to mail a few things, and it was another good mail day. Mary Ellen’s cool mom, Gail, sent me some more pens. Whee! I think I’ll never run out of cool pens to write with ever again. Thanks, Gail! Would you like to know what I just hate? I hate it when there’s a web page touting some wonderful product, but you CANNOT place an online order. You know, if I WANTED to call someone a place an order, I wouldn’t be looking online, I’d be looking in a catalog, okay? Got that? I also hate that Bath and Body Works doesn’t have a web page you can order from. Obviously, they know that if you can order online, you won’t go into the stores so that the salespeople can follow you around and harass you into buying stuff you don’t need. That’s okay – I’ll just buy from Lush. I got my big-ass order of Lush products via UPS yesterday, and I’m happy once again. (Not that I was particularly unhappy, mind you) What I find interesting is that I ordered from the Lush Canada site, but the UPS ticket shows it as being shipped from Washington state. Interesting, no? Oh, I also hate sites where you CAN purchase the stuff they’re selling online, but they DON’T have a PICTURE of the item for you to look at to decide whether you want to buy it. That’s totally lame, and I’m sure they’re not selling ANYTHING on their sites and have decided that it’s useless to sell anything online. Dumbasses. So, I was reading Newsweek this morning while I was blow-drying my hair (It just bores the hell out of me to stand there and blow-dry it, so I usually read. Which is probably why my hair looks the way it does. Heh.), and I came across a story about Osama Bin Laden’s half brother Yeslam and how he’s "under scrutiny" and blahblahblah. What made me laugh out loud was this part: Like the rest of Osama’s relatives, Yeslam adopted a different family name to distance himself from his infamous kin. So what do you suppose he changed his family name to? Something very different, right? Something that you’d hear and never ever link to Bin Laden in a million years, surely. He changed it from Bin Laden to Binladin. Holy cow, did I laugh my ass off. On the one hand I understand, ’cause it’s kind of like hiding in plain sight – "Is he related to Osama?" "No, it’s spelled differently. One word instead of two, and l-a-d-i-n instead of l-a-d-e-n. No relation at all" – but on the other hand, it’s kinda of like changing your last name from Smith to Smyth and thinking no one would ever connect you with your family, the Smiths. Bet you had no idea I read Newsweek, did you? I was making an attempt to tame the pile of crap laying on the floor around my desk (this attempt was spurred by seeing that several spiders had taken up residence in and amongst the nooks and crannies of said crap, and had even laid eggs), and one of the things I’ve been needing to do is go through this rather large pile of floppy disks, see what was on each one, and decide what to do with whatever it was. I found a huge amount of pictures from March of 2000, many of which were cat pictures. For instance, there was: where Tubby is showing his evil side, and also meowing his obnoxious "Meh!" at me. There was also: where Tubby is laying by the kitchen table and obviously starving to death. I also found a more recent picture that Fred took a few days ago: The boys do like their fresh air and sunshine, yes indeedy. Friday Five: 1. What’s your favorite TV show and why? Survivor and Friends are pretty tied for first. Ironic that they’re on at the same time, no? 2. Who is your favorite television star? Oh my GOD, I have the total hots for Michael Chiklis, who used to be The Commish, and is now Vic Mackey on The Shield. I don’t know what the man did to himself between then and now, but he went from a bit of a shlump to a total hot little muffin. Rwowr! And I’m just loving the hell out of the show – I’ve even got Fred hooked on it. 3. What was your favorite TV show as a child? Little House on the Prairie. I’ll still stop and watch it if I’m flipping channels. I was also (surprise, surprise!) a Brady Bunch fan. But then, who isn’t? ("Mom SAID, don’t play ball in the house!") 4. What show do you think should have been canceled by now? I don’t know, nothing particularly annoying comes to mind. There are a whole slew of sitcoms I’ve never watched and wouldn’t miss – Yes Dear, King of Queens, The Hughleys, Everybody Loves Raymond, and Becker. 5. What new show do you hope escapes the axe this season? Andy Richter Rules the Universe is one of my favorite new shows this season. Greg the Bunny is okay, but Fred likes it more than I do. Bernie Mac is always funny, too. ]]>


Tubby’s lookin’ scruffy and could use a good brushing. He’s also meowing bitchily at me. I don’t know why this cracks me up so much. It’s like the chair is a kitty condo, with Spanky on the first floor and Fancypants on the second. The chair is Spanky’s favorite place to be. Have you ever seen a happier cat? Tubby sneaks back through the window after a hard afternoon of snoozing under the tree.

Click on any of those pictures to see the full-sized version, by the way. I also found a little movie of Spot. I like to call it When Good Kitties Go Bad. Check it out. So, with everything around here being so nuts for the past few weeks, I managed to miss out on nominating entries for the Diarist Awards. However, I’m still presenting to you: Who I Would Have Nominated (if I’d gotten off my ass and actually done it) Mo in the Mirror. I think it’s impossible for anyone to read this and not relate. And you’ve gotta love the Mo Pie! I love Jessamyn’s A Letter from My Father. I love Jessamyn, period. Each entry is so well-written that it makes up for the fact that she doesn’t update nearly often enough to suit me. (Because it IS all about me, you know) Nicole’s book review of the book written by the woman who claims that J.K. Rowling stole the word "Muggles" from her, and stole ideas, as well. I love it when Nicole gets heated up, because entries like this one are the result. (Edited 9/05 to add: There were a bunch more links, but three years and a few months later the journals no longer exist, so I edited the links out.) This time around, there were a bunch of pages I had bookmarked that are no longer where they were, and have either been taken down or moved so that I can’t find ’em. Dora Eliza took down her archives so that I can’t link to her entries for February 15th, January 29th, or January 25th (just thought you’d like to know I really liked those entries, Eliza! Even if I can’t remember anymore what they were about…). Fred wrote an entry at some point that’s no longer up, and Joley wrote an entry on February 14th that I can’t find. You know, I always consider these entries – the ones with a bunch of pictures and then a bunch of links – to be cheater-type entries, because how hard can it be? Well let me tell you, it’s hard. It’s hard because I want to say something that will do justice to each link, and I always feel like I never quite do.< Just so you know. -----



Once and Again Monday night and watched it last night, and here’s what I don’t get – why wasn’t it a possibility for Rick to go to Australia and Lily to stay at home and do her syndication thing? It was only nine months, which would be hard, but if the guy having the hotel built was willing to fly the entire family over there and put them up in a house, I’m sure he would have been willing to fly Rick or Lily back and forth every few weeks. Of course, the surprise at the end put a different spin on it, I guess. I’m going to miss that show. So, something ODD happened yesterday, and if I end up dead in a few days, y’all will have some idea who to look for, okay? Fred and I were sitting in front of our respective computers around 3:00, when I glanced up and saw a light blue minivan (sorry, didn’t get the license plate number, but it was light blue. And a minivan. Pass that along to the police investigators, won’t you?) driving down the street toward our house. I didn’t think much of it, because we live – I think I’ve mentioned this 15 times in the last week – at the end of a cul-de-sac, and a large number of people find it necessary to drive down the street, turn around in front of our house, and drive back from whence they came. When I say a large number, I mean in the area of 15 cars or SUVs a day, so it’s not unusual to see an unfamiliar vehicle drive down the street. So I went back to what I was doing, and glanced up a moment later to see the minivan (light blue. Kind of a smoky blue. And a Chevy, I think. Or a Pontiac? Oh, I’m hopeless when it comes to identifying the make or model of a car. But it was probably less than 5 years old, officer) pulling into our driveway. This is an unusual occurrence (okay, JEEZUS CHRIST, why does EVERY FUCKING WEB PAGE IN EXISTENCE have fucking pop-up windows, someone tell me? If I’m going to Merriam-Webster to look up the correct spelling of "occurrence", I don’t want your stupid fucking pop-up trying to sell me some cd by some Ashanti person, okay? In fact, I’ll be sure to go out of my way to avoid anything by that name from here on out for the rest of my life, motherfuckers), because the only vehicles pulling into our driveway on a regular basis would be mine and Fred’s, and from time to time his father and stepmother’s truck. Light blue minivan? Never seen it before. "Huh." I said to Fred. "A light blue minivan (got that? light blue!) just pulled into our driveway, and someone’s coming to the door." A nicely dressed black man – shirt and tie nice, not suit nice, and holding a bottle of Tide laundry detergent – rang the doorbell. "All yours!" I said to Fred, and hid around the corner. I don’t answer the door, have I mentioned? Except for this previous Sunday, which I’ll cover after I’m through telling this particular story. Anyway, Fred opened the door, there was some conversation, and finally Fred said "Nope, sorry," and shut the door. Come to find out, the guy CLAIMED he was selling cleaning supplies and wanted to come in and demonstrate them for us. "We already use Tide," Fred told the guy, probably hoping the guy would hand over the bottle and we’d be all set for another 100 loads o’ laundry. (Side note: Does anyone actually use the recommended measurement of laundry detergent? ‘Cause I don’t, I use about half of what they suggest, and my clothes always come clean) The guy tried to get pushy about coming in to demonstrate other products, until Fred said he wasn’t feeling well because he was recovering from surgery (and lifted his shirt to flash his goop-filled drains at the guy), which is when the guy gave up and left. He got in his minivan (there was a second person in the vehicle with him, but aside from the fact that the second person was likely male, I have no further details, officer) and drove away. To me, this is REALLY odd because 1. he drove directly to our house and didn’t stop at any other houses in the neighborhood and 2. Are there still door-to-door cleaning supply salesmen? I think NOT. Know what I’m thinking? Psycho stalker, desperate to come into the house, rape and rob us and leave us for dead, stealing the computers and the big-screen TV on the way out. Bastards. If the updates stop coming, I expect y’all to call the cops. Speaking of evil people at the door, Fred and I were upstairs hanging out Sunday afternoon, when the doorbell rang. We weren’t expecting company, so I went to the study and looked down to see if there were any cars in the driveway. There weren’t, and I thought about not answering the door, but if it were one of the neighbors coming by to say "I see your husband is walking oddly and wearing a girdle. Everything okay?", they’d have seen both Jeeps in the driveway and known we were home. "Go answer the door," I told the spud. Which was stupid, because when she did, the people at the door asked if her parents were home. She called me, and since Fred was still moving rather slowly, I couldn’t make HIM go talk to whomever it was (plus, he was dressed for comfort rather than fashion), so I walked grumpily down the stairs. I opened the door to be faced with a couple of young teenagers, a boy and a girl. The boy greeted me and held out a pamphlet. I glanced down at it, saw "Church of Christ" in big, bold letters, and got annoyed to the extreme. "Nope! Sorry!" I growled, and slammed the door in their little cherub faces. They’re lucky I didn’t swear at them, damnit. I’m so going to hell. But, it’s Nance‘s fault! She told me last week that I need to learn to be more of a bitch. Mission accomplished. Miz Poo is NOT a fan of the vacuum cleaner. ]]>