here. For the rest of you, the story. In March 2001, I put up a little movie of the spud singing the birthday song to Moira. Shortly after, I received an email from Ellen, who said “Hey, will you make one for meeeee too?” When I said “Is it your birthday?”, she told that it wasn’t, that her birthday wasn’t until September 5th. I wrote her name on the calendar with the intention of surprising her with the spud singing especially for her. But I forgot to turn the calendar page until sometime mid-September, by which time the moment had passed. So I wrote it on the calendar for this year. Happy birthday, Ellen! * * * FUCKING telemarketers. My cell phone has been ringing all the fuckity-fucking time over the last several day, and by the time I hear it and answer it, the telemarketer has moved on to bigger and better things. Until yesterday, when I happened to be sitting near my phone when it rang, so I promptly picked it up. “Yeah, is Fredrick there?” A gentleman said, apparently under the impression that I would think “Oh! It’s Fredrick’s friend!” and just hand the phone over. “May I ask who’s calling?” I said, icicles dripping from each word. HE. HUNG. UP. ON. ME. Fucker. An hour later, the phone rang again. This time when I asked who was calling, the lady on the other end told me she was calling from AfuckingOfuckingLfuckers. So I hung up on her. Heh. (Yes, I know they’re just going to call back. At which point I will tell them to put us on their “No-call” list. Or take us off their “Call” list, however that goes) It makes sense, of course, that AOL would be coming after us with both barrels – Fred had the nerve to call and cancel the account we haven’t used at all in the past year, and so they’re trying to reel us back in to their stupid, sucky service. Why, I ask you, would we want AOL’s fucked-up piece-of-shit dial-up service, when we have a cable connection? Why? I loathe AOL. I don’t loathe those of you who get online via AOL, but I loathe AOL. Over my dead fucking body will I ever sign up for AOL ever again in my life. I feel really hostile, and would like to rip someone at AOL a new asshole, but I know it’s not the fault of the telemarketers who are incessantly calling. * * * Menstrual hostility is running through my veins, just so you know. Last night, I watched the last 15 minutes of Monica in Black and White (I taped it the other night, because it was late and I wanted to go to bed. I’d have stayed up and watched it if I’d realized there was only another 15 minutes), and if I could have gone through the TV, there were a couple of real assholes I would have loved to strangle. I actually gasped out loud at the question the first one asked, and rolled my eyes at the smug and self-satisfied (and I don’t mean that in a good way) comment the second guy made. Asshole number one (pardon the poor picture. I didn’t feel like closing the blinds): Go here to see the question he asked. What. An. Asshole. Don’t you dare email me and defend his stupid ass – he asked the question to be cruel and hurtful, and then he was so PROUD of himself afterward. Asshole. Asshole number 2: Go here to see part one, and here to see part two of the self-important speech this self-important asshole self-importantly made. I hope they had to buy tickets to get in, and I hope they were REALLY expensive. (If you’d like to email your opinion on this subject, you certainly may. However, if you disagree with me and are of the opinion that you’ll change my opinion of either Asshole #1, Asshole #2, or Monica Lewinsky, you really ought to save your time. Let’s just agree to disagree, mm’kay?) Okay, that’s officially it for the Monica Lewinsky stuff. I won’t go on and on about her again, I’m probably boring or annoying the hell out of y’all. * * * The Theme Thursday topic this week is money. We got this ten-gallon bottle (it was originally filled with water) from the grocery store, and once we’d used it up, I decided that rather than return it, we should start tossing our extra change in there. I think we’ve been doing it for about 3 years, and it’s around 1/3 of the way full. It’s heavy as hell, too. I figure another 6 years, it’ll be full, the spud will be off to college, and then Fred and I will use the change to go to Disneyland. Whee! A roadtrip with the spud would be cool, too.

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Previously 2001: I turned to Fred and said “He looks all dilemmanated, doesn’t he?” 2000: Trip to Tennessee.]]>