Twitter, Facebook, and Good Reads.
I am a lemming.
I made a Facebook profile and despite the fact that I told no one about it, y’all found me. Tracked me down, like a dog in the night! Friend me, I’ll friend you back.
I joined Twitter ’cause Lanna Lee made me. MADE ME. Or invited me, anyway. Friend me, I’ll friend you back. I’m trying to set it up to be able to Twitter from my cell phone (Fred just twitched, I guarantee it) (also – joining Twitter makes you a Twit? Yes or no?) (Yeah, yeah, I was already a twit, har har.), but having no luck. Ugh. It would be excellent to be able to post to Twitter from my cell phone when I’m on vacation or whatever. Also, I’ll probably put one of those Twitter boxes in the sidebar, if I ever get my ass in gear and get my new template the way I want it.
I joined GoodReads ’cause someone invited me, I don’t even remember who. I don’t use it, but I intend to start… one of these days. Friend me, I’ll friend you back.
* * *
The spud and I went out to dinner last night, and at her suggestion, we went to Ruby Tuesday. When we walked in the door, there were several servers just kind of standing around, then the hostess came along a minute later and seated us.
And then we cooled our heels for ten minutes as servers studiously walked by NOT taking our drink orders or paying any attention to us at all. A couple of women came in and were seated right behind us – and ten seconds after they’d sat down, their server came along and took their drink order.
So we walked out and went to Applebee’s, where we were served promptly.
Ruby Tuesday, Athens Alabama – I’ve been there three times, and the service has SUCKED ASS worse every time. I don’t recommend it, and if you Google Ruby Tuesday, Ruby Tuesday’s, Ruby Tuesdays, Athens, Alabama, and end up on this page, I think you should know that.
Too bad, too – I was in the mood for a salad bar and turkey sandwich combo. YOUR LOSS, Ruby Tuesday of Athens Alabama, and YOUR LOSS, stupid lazy server who couldn’t be bothered to pay any attention to us. I happen to be an excellent tipper. Too bad you never got to find that out for yourself.
* * *
Is it wrong that it amuses me to get the vacuum cleaner out, wheel it down the hallway (I always vacuum from the front of the house to the back), and laugh when the cats react with a huge amount of disbelief and horror? They’re ALWAYS surprised that I’m getting the vacuum out, and they always run away like they’re under enemy fire – and that’s before I even get the damn thing plugged in and running.
* * *
I was reading
The Woman at the Washington Zoo the other day, and I was surprised at how interesting I found it. The first part of the book consists of profiles on political figures, and I am SO not about the politics (as I think you know), but I still found the profiles quite interesting.
“There’s a profile on Vernon Jordan,” I told Fred. “And you know I couldn’t give less of a shit about Vernon Jordan, but it’s really interesting!”
Fred looked at me.
“What?” I said.
“I’m just amazed that you know who Vernon Jordan is,” he said.
“Hey! I’m not a complete idiot. Of course I know who Vernon Jordan is!”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“Nothing, I’m just surprised, is all.”
“Well,” I admitted. “I didn’t actually know he was black ’til I read this profile.”
And then I had to kill Fred for mocking me.
* * *
We’ve been horribly lax about replacing the
SoftPaws caps on Sugarbutt and Tommy’s claws. I know this not because they’ve been scratching up the furniture (they haven’t) or the floors (they haven’t), but because I was sitting at my desk yesterday and looked into the back yard to find Tommy hanging off the side of the tree on one side, and Sugarbutt hanging off the trunk on the other side.
I leaned over and knocked on the window, which startled them, and they jumped down and ran into the house.
I guess I need to get out the caps and the superglue, lest their stupid asses end up high in the tree with no idea of how to get down.
* * *
Yeah, yeah, yeah, if Maxi and Newt get their own pages, it means they’re our cats. Shaddup.
* * *
I had an appointment this morning with my liver doctor (also known as my gastroenterologist, I s’pose) at 8:00 on the far side of Huntsville. I got there with maybe two minutes to spare, only to find out that my doctor was in Madison today.
Something I obviously forgot to note when I wrote the appointment down on the calendar.
Since I was actually scheduled at 8:15 rather than 8:00, I was able to make it to Madison only a few minutes late.
It was just a general checking-in appointment where he asked how I was feeling, I told him I was feeling fine, he ordered bloodwork to be drawn, and told me to come back in six months.
This time when I made my appointment, I wrote on my calendar that it was in Madison.
Somehow, I suspect I’ll still fuck it up when the time comes.
* * *
I need to clear off my memory stick. What does this mean for you? Why, a buttload of pictures! I’ll put a flickr link at the bottom if you’re interested in seeing any of them full-sized.
When my parents were visiting and we went to Tuscaloosa, we got to meet my aunt’s dog. He’s purty.
What the garden’s looking like these days.
Flappy McGee got up on the top of the gate and thought about flapping on out of the yard, realized Newt was skulking about, and flapped back down into the back yard.
We get a ton of these, and it makes me happy every time I see one flit by.
WARNING: JEN, YOU GREAT BIG WIMPY-WIMPY, THERE ARE TWO BUG PICTURES BELOW. SKIP THEM, OR HAVE NIGHTMARES. YOU DO KNOW THEY CAN’T HURT YOU PHYSICALLY FROM A PICTURE, RIGHT? BUT I SUPPOSE THEY CAN HARM YOU EMOTIONALLY, SO NEVERMIND. I UNDERSTAND.
Someone tell me what the hell this bug is. It was hanging out by the garden, and I leaned down to snap a picture of it, and it zipped off, grabbed some little bug from OUT OF THE AIR, and started sucking the life out of it. I’m thinking it might be beneficial to have around the garden.
OKAY, JEN, IT’S SAFE.
“YeeeeOWW! Shake it, Mama! Shake it like a Polaroid picture! Woohoo! WOULD YOU LIKE SOME FRIES WITH THAT SHAKE?!”
“Look. Did we not have this discussion wherein you don’t flash that goddamn flashy thing at me? Where you just rub my belly instead? Did we NOT? Because I feel like we did, and I don’t want to have to go kill a bunch of little rodents and leave them on the doorstep, but I WILL. Now rub my damn belly.”
Happy Sugs.
* * *
The foster babies are doing well. I think we’ve got them about as socialized as they’re going to get. Spanky’s at the point where he’ll sometimes let you pet him (though you have a better chance if there are kitty snacks involved) and Tina Louise is a lurve slut. If Maryanne and Gilligan are cornered they’ll let you pet them (or if they’re eating a snack, they’ll let you pet them), but otherwise they’ll skitter off if they sense you’re trying to touch them.
I suspect they’ll be trying to find homes in the next few weeks; I’m keeping my fingers crossed that someone who’s willing to devote a lot of time and love to Maryanne and Gilligan adopts them, but I’ll admit that I’m worried.
“It is time for the snugglez. Go away.”
“Tastes like chicken!”
“So, I says to her, I says ‘Look. You want to pet me. I don’t want you to pet me. Your love burns my soul. BUT the burning of my soul can be assauged by tasty kitty treats. I will let you pet me while there are treats in front of me. I won’t ENJOY the petting and I will NEVER purr for you, but if there are treats, there is petting. No treats, no petting. You unnerstan’?’, and what does she do? She goes out and buys three big containers of treats. She is a complete and utter sucker. But the treats are good, so who’s complaining?”
* * *
Previously
2006: It was the weirdest hyper-real instant of cognitive dissonance I have ever experienced in my life.
2005: “Oh, look a finger! I feel so relaxed and unfrightened now…”
2004: Then I sang “Iiiiiiiiiiii am the Stuuuuuuuuump of Constant Sorrowwwwwwwwww!”, which amused Fred to no end.
2003: No entry.
2002: Readers, if you love me, you will never, NEVER allow someone you don’t know who isn’t a cop (ask for identification, and LOOK at it, don’t just glance at it) inside your home when you’re alone.
2001: No entry.
2000: Black widow. Lovely.]]>