It’s Veteran’s Day, Americans. Take a moment to remember and thank those who are willing to serve and protect this country as well as those who died doing so.
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I had sushi rolls – California rolls – for breakfast this morning, and they were mighty fucking fine. Certainly beats my usual scrambled-eggs-and-fruit by a mile.
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I have 120 daffodil bulbs and about 60 lily bulbs to plant. I should be out there doing it right now, but I don’t wanna. Tomorrow’s supposed to be somewhat warm, with thunder showers in the afternoon, followed by a cold front. I’m guessing that my ass will be outside digging a bed to plant the bulbs tomorrow morning, is what I’m guessing. Hmm. If I’d planned better, we could have had BitchyCon this week, and the price of attendance would have been digging in the back yard.
That’s what I get for never planning ahead.
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There are a bunch of car places that I pass on the way to and from the pet store. Last week as I was driving to the pet store, I saw a gorgeous little yellow car, and naturally became interested.
Until I saw the price on the windshield. $35,999. Yikes! I promise y’all, even if the day comes that I have $35,999 laying around, I will never own a car worth that much money. I might splurge on a $15,000 car and spend the rest on books, but I’d just be scared to drive a car worth that much money around. I mean, what if I got a scratch on it? They’d probably charge thousands and thousands of dollars to fix it, right?
I’d be much happier in a yellow Beetle, I’m sure. Coincidentally, there’s a yellow Beetle for sale (WITH a sunroof!) on the road I drive down to get to the post office. It seems to be in excellent shape and can’t be more than a few years old. And it has a sunroof!
Wouldn’t that be an excellent Christmas present? You should go mention that to Fred, really you should.
(Not holding my breath – but a girl can dream!)
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When bitching about Christmas shopping and all that yesterday, I probably should have mentioned that last year I went shopping the day after Christmas and bought some serious bargains for several people on the spud’s Christmas list – her father’s parents and sister. I’ve also started making my list (though I didn’t check it twice) so that when November 28th comes along, I’ll be ready to start shopping.
Or at least ordering things online.
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If you’re in the process – or ever will be in the process – of looking for a bank through which to get your mortgage, here’s some advice for you. Do NOT go with the “small, friendly” bank, because within two months the motherfuckers will sell your fucking mortgage to a huge bank like Chase Manhattan, and what will Chase Manhattan do? Why, Chase Manhattan will decide they’re certainly not getting enough money from you, and Chase Manhattan will include a fucking advertisement with every mortgage statement, telling you that for A SMALL MONTHLY FEE, they could transfer half your mortgage payment AUTOMATICALLY every two weeks, and over the life of the loan, you’ll save THOUSANDS. And yet, when you point out that you could easily just WRITE a check every two weeks for half your mortgage payment and mail it to Chase Manhattan for a SMALL FEE of 37 cents each time, which adds up roughly to 74 cents every four weeks (not including the cost of the envelope, the cost of your time to write out the check and lick the envelope, and also let’s NOT forget about the time-intensive addressing of the envelope), and that doing that yourself rather than letting Chase Manhattan do it and charge you for having done it will save you THOUSANDS over time, they have no response.
Also, those Chase Manhattan motherfuckers, who have your home phone number, because you had to give it to them when you filled out the paperwork, because they don’t want cell phones, oh no, those fuckers will call you on the average once a week to offer you some new hair-brained money-saving bargain. And believe you me, once those fuckers start talking, they don’t stop to take a breath, and so you have to just interrupt them and say “SO SORRY, NOT INTERESTED, CHASE MANHATTAN CAN BITE MY ASS, BUH-BYE!” and then hang up.
Never once did I ever get a single call from AmSouth when they had our mortgage when we lived in the other house, is what I’m saying.
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No new cat pictures, so here are some oldies but goodies:
This is when Tubby was a svelte young thing.
Spot, the Washington Journal reporter.
Baby Spanky!
This picture of Miz Poo cracks me up, because a) it was not long after her surgery last year, when she had a bit of her lip cut out and tested for cancer (it tested negative) and b) the sticker over her head, which reads “Aren’t we just a ray of fucking sunshine”.
I sure do miss that evil, fancy bastard.
Not an old picture, but it cracks me up.
A year ago: “… after doing the laundry, I had sex on the kitchen floor with Fred once again. Floor continues to be TOO FUCKING COLD…”
Four: Smile and nod, and she’ll go on forever.]]>