Life – Page 159 – Bitchypoo

2/2/06

new logo! This one was created by the lovely and talented Bonnie. Thanks, Bonnie!

::::::: Hi, all! Thank you so much for your nice comments and emails. I haven’t been much for responding to emails this week, but I promise I’ll get to it in the next few days! Today, I think I might actually start to feel human in the near future. I spent all of Tuesday (after we got home from the hospital) and Wednesday zoning out on the couch, getting up to move around a little and sipping broth, jello (if one can sip jello!) and apple juice. Not to mention the water. I had to be at the hospital at 6:30 on Monday, and they didn’t take me back for surgery until close to 10:00. I swear, I was so nervous, I was ready to run out the door by the time they finally came. My surgeon told Fred that it was a picture-perfect operation, that my liver looked fine, and that they didn’t look at my gall bladder, because it was behind scar tissue (from my c-section). He said “It couldn’t have gone better”, in fact! Except for the nausea I had all day Monday (after the surgery) and Tuesday, I’ve been having some gas pains in my gut, and my abdomen itself has been sore right across the middle – especially my belly button – but it’s been nothing the hydrocodone hasn’t been able to knock out. The only thing I hate about the hydrocodone is the dopey feeling it gives me, so I’ve been cutting back, which is probably why I feel semi-human today. Speaking of the nausea, I had three bouts of violent retching, two at the hospital and one not long after I got home Tuesday, which scared the hell out of Fred. It finally went away – THANK GOD – because I hadn’t been expecting the nausea, even though one of the prescriptions they gave me at the surgeon’s office was anti-nausea medicine. I was able to sleep laying down last night, and it was HEAVEN – it made me very, very happy to be able to sleep on my side and not in a reclining position, and I slept pretty well. So, that’s the state of things with me. I haven’t stepped on a scale yet, and in fact I don’t think I will until I see my surgeon at my 2 week appointment, because I can tell I’m still bloated up with liquids – at least, my fingers feel swollen – and if I step on that scale and see a gain, even if I know it’s not a “real” gain – I might have to get out the rifle and shoot the damn thing. I promise I’ll write a more detailed account of the day of surgery – and the night after – in the next few days, but I thought I’d get something posted here to let y’all know how I was doing. Thanks again for your comments and emails. You guys rock!

Spanky cracks me up, with his big pink lips.

Tom Cullen, stowing away in the bag I took to the hospital.]]>

1/30/06

Okay. So. I’m off to the hospital! Read more about it here. Don’t expect any more entries this week. Fred will post an addendum to this entry at some point this afternoon to let y’all know I made it through surgery just fine. And for those of you who feel the need to leave nasty comments – yeah, I know you’re out there – Fred will be on the comments like white on rice, and will be deleting any comments he feels are too negative so I’ll never see them. Frustrating isn’t it? The rest of you, have a good week, and I’ll see you soon! Oh, and check out the ton of cat pictures I uploaded to Flickr yesterday.

Addendum from Fred: All is well.

Addendum #2: She’s home.]]>

1/27/06

this clip from an interview she did with Lesley Stahl (you’ll have to watch an ad to get to the clip if you aren’t a Salon member, but it’s worth it) makes me love her even more. And it really, really makes me want to punch Lesley Stahl directly in the fucking face. Because I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet that ol’ Lesley wouldn’t dream of condescendingly asking William H. Macy (father of those two little girls) if being a “Daddy” is the best experience of his life. Bet she wouldn’t ask him if he’s a “good father”, either. Fuck you, Lesley Stahl.

* * * So I spent a good part of yesterday morning swearing and yelling at my computer. Because I could get my mail, but I couldn’t connect to ANY FUCKING WEB SITES. I rebooted about 63 times. That’s my first response when my computer is being a stinker, to reboot. Which is also the first thing Fred asks me when I tell him I’m having problems, which indicates to me it’s a good first response. After rebooting didn’t fix the problem, I ran Ad-Aware, and then I ran McAfee VirusScan, and then I tried using Internet Explorer instead of Firefox, and STILL the problem wasn’t fixed. I tried Fred’s computer and no problem at ALL. Which meant that the problem was with my computer rather than with the GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING I HATE YOU internet. (Sorry, internet. I was sure it was your fault, because IT ALWAYS IS.) I went out to exercise because I needed to blow off steam, because if I had to look at my computer’s smug smiling fucking face for one more second, I was going to put my fist through it, and who needs a broken fist? Not I. So I came in, hoping that the computer would have fixed itself like ALL GOOD COMPUTERS DO, but alas. It had not. So I rebooted again and checked my mail, and tried getting to various sites – no problem getting to Google, but when I tried CNN.com, the very top of the page would load, and then nothin’. I checked Nance’s page and got there okay. I tried Opendiary.com and the top of the page loaded and then nothin’. Which is when it hit me, and I called Fred to tell him that it had to be the ads on the pages I was trying to get to. Something was blocking them and wouldn’t let the rest of the page load. What could it be? What oh what? Turns out it was McAfee Firewall. Which Fred uninstalled months ago because, let me quote here, “It sucks so much.” THANKS FOR SUGGESTING YOUR WIFE DO THE SAME, FUCKER. Once I uninstalled McAfee Firewall and rebooted, I had no problems getting anywhere online. So if you’re running McAfee Firewall and are having issues getting places online, that’s your problem. You’re welcome. * * * Two conversations that will prove that I am a complete and utter ditz: 1. Fred and I started to watch The Baxter the other night. (I say “started to” because we lasted about five minutes before turning it off. I know it’s supposed to be ironic and stuff, but it SUCKED. Also, the lead guy looks way too much like Screech to be taken seriously.) (See for yourself – Dustin Diamond here, Michael Showalter here) Anyway. I put the DVD into the player, and we sat patiently as the menu came up, and then as Fred clicked on “Play movie”, I pointed at the screen, and said “That guy in the background looks like the Asshole guy!” “The Asshole guy?” Fred said, grinning. “Yeah, the Asshole guy!” “You mean Johnny Knoxville?” Fred offered. “Yeah, him.” “Bessie,” Fred said. “That would be Jackass, not Asshole.” “Oh, right. SHUT UP.” 2. Fred called me Wednesday morning as I was about to go out to the garage to do the elliptical for 30 minutes. Actually, he called as I was about to step on to the elliptical, and I heard the phone ring and ran back inside – swearing all the way – to answer it. “Bessie!” he said. “Chris Penn died!” “He did?” I said. “Oh, that’s too bad!” “Yeah, poor ol’ Willard.” He went on to read some of the details to me. “Do they know what killed him?” I asked. “Uh… no, not yet, but they don’t think it was due to foul play, they think natural causes.” “Oh, like a drug overdose?” I said. Fred began laughing. “Yeah, maybe, except that a drug overdose wouldn’t be a NATURAL CAUSE.” “SHUT UP.” * * *

* * * Currently reading: The Deadhouse, by Linda Fairstein. This is the second Linda Fairstein book I’ve read, and I can’t quite decide whether I like her books enough to keep reading them or not. I’ve got one more by her after this one; hopefully by the time I get to the end of that one, I’ll know one way or the other. Finished recently: Scenes from a Holiday, by various authors. I ended up skipping the story by Laurie Graff, but the others weren’t bad. * * *

Is it just me, or does Sugarbutt look strikingly like a praying mantis?

If you click here to see the big-ass version of this picture, you’ll see just how much white Tommy has, sprinkled amongst the black fur. He seems to have more white fur every day. I said to Fred the other day, “We should have named him Michael Jackson!”, because he’s turning white, see. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: Yes, I look like a dork. 2004: Better paranoid than hitchhiking across the country to meet some perv though, eh? 2003: No online presence in the day and age where every Joe Dork has a page? Inconceivable! 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: Ooooh, lucky me, I got to go to the gynecologists’ today!]]>

1/26/06

Is that a cool picture, or what? I’ve been looking at this one a lot lately – that’s the one I bought while I was in Maine – and y’all know I’m not much for hiking, but I think Fred might get me to hike Mt. Katahdin with him. One of these years, anyway, if I can convince him that he won’t crumble into pieces if he crosses the Mason-Dixon line.

* * * This is why eBay rocks: Because on Christmas Eve, I was getting out of the car, and I accidentally kicked one side of my purse, and my beloved Bolle Acrylex sunglasses fell out of my purse and fell into pieces (helped, I am somewhat certain, by my big fat foot stomping down on them, because I didn’t know I was doing so), and I thought “Well, I loved ’em while they lasted, but I’m about to go to Maine, and SURELY I can find something THERE”. Then I went to Maine and I looked high and low, and I even went to the Sunglasses Hut, and I tried on a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses at the Sunglasses Hut, and they were perfect, but they were 80ish bucks, and I said “Pshaw. Let’s go to LL* Bean’s!” We went to LL Bean’s, and I looked at all the sunglasses they had, and I was displeased to find that the only pair of sunglasses that looked at all like the shape I wanted were a pair of Maui Jim sunglasses, and they were, like, $175, and I. Don’t. THINK SO. Now, before you point this out, yes. Yes, it might behoove me to pay many dollars to get a good pair of sunglasses that will last and not fall apart like the cheap ones do, but I have this feeling that if I had been tromping my portly ass across a pair of $175 sunglasses, they would have fallen to pieces as quickly as the $15 Bolle Acrylex I bought on eBay sometime last year or the year before. Aaaaaaaaaanyway. So I bought a pair of wire-rimmed round sunglasses to get me through my trip to Maine, even though I don’t like them, and couldn’t find anything I liked, because I have very specific requirements for my sunglasses. For one, they must have roundish lenses. These are the roundish lenses I like. These are not. Secondly, the arms must not be too thick, and they must not sit too close to the side of my face. Thirdly, obviously, they must sit comfortably on my face. Fourthly, they must have plastic frames. The problem, of course, is that round-lensed, plastic-framed sunglasses that sit comfortably on my face and has arms that are not too thick are not what’s in fashion right now, and you can’t find the fucking things anywhere. So I got home and I began an eBay search. And I bought some sunglasses that, when they arrived, were just not right for me, which is why they’re up on eBay (AND NO ONE WANTS THEM, apparently). I kept looking and kept looking, and remembered that I really kind of liked the Maui Jim sunglasses I’d seen at LL Bean, and I Googled and Googled and Googled some more, and then. Voila! Maui Jim Cat Eye sunglasses for $14.99! And just between you and me, I don’t care whether they’re really Maui Jim sunglasses, or imitation Maui Jim sunglasses** or if they “fell off the truck”, or what. I ordered them, they’re exactly what I want, and I LOVE THEM. Reason the second why eBay rocks: Because we decided the other day, after Fred let Mister Boogers out into the back yard and Tommy went running out after him, that it’s time to buy collars for Tommy and Sugarbutt, so we can let them out into the back yard and they won’t escape. Fred looked around online and found that they were going to be $100 apiece at the place where we got the electric fence. After looking around some more, he went on eBay, and found them for $75 apiece. That’s a $50 savings! I can’t wait ’til they come, and we can let them out back (Sugarbutt’s a little scared of the traffic going by, so it might take him a while) and they can start catching birds and bringing them inside. Because that’s always a lot of fun! *Stands for Leon Leonwood, the Bean who founded LL Bean in 1912. I bet you didn’t know that. **I think it would be hilarious if someone started manufacturing imitation Maui Jim sunglasses and called them “Oahu James” sunglasses. * * * I went to the book store yesterday just to browse and because I was near the book store, and because I CAN. We women with no jobs and no children at home can do things like browse in book stores for no damn reason, and take 63,000 pictures of our cats and look lovingly at every single one of them, trying to decide which ones to post in our journal. I browsed for half an hour or so, forgetting that I had a crackcocaine-laden fountain soda waiting for me in the car, and then I stood in line. I put my magazine and notebook and book on tape (for Fred!) on the counter, and the cashier looked at me and said “Do you have (some fucking rewards card they’re always flogging)?” “I do not,” I said. “Would you like one?” she offered. “I would not,” I said. And then, because I am the most pathetic creature on the face of the earth, I was over-the-top chatty and nice to her for the rest of the transaction because – are you ready for this? – I didn’t want her to be MAD AT ME for not getting the rewards card they’re always pushing. Seriously. How pathetic am I? I go into that book store maybe twice a year, and I CARE whether the cashier chick – who probably couldn’t have cared less whether I got the rewards card or not – is MAD at me. I need therapy, don’t I? PS: The LastLine Bookmark is the BEST bookmark ever. I’ll never use another bookmark in my life, I shit you not. * * * Sorry, no cat pictures today. My computer is a fucking piece of shit and I can’t connect to anything anywhere at all. Lucky for me, Fred’s computer seems to be working just fine. Pardon me while I go scream at my computer and possibly kick it a few times. * * * Previously 2005: I figure they’re professionals and know what they’re doing, so I have no desire to clutter up the small amount of space left in my brain with that kind of information. 2004: I sense that there is a battle of epic proportions in my future, a show-down between Miz Poo and I as to just WHO the blanket belongs to. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: But don’t tell Miz Poo I’m admiring another cat, please… 2000: It’s a conspiracy!]]>

1/25/06

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Robyn!

It takes forty minutes to hard-boil Robyn!
If you drop Robyn from more than three metres above ground level, she will always land feet-first.
Robyn has little need for water and is capable of going for months without drinking at all.
In the Spanish edition of Cluedo, Robyn is the victim.
The National Heart Foundation recommends eating Robyn at least three times a week.
It’s bad luck to whistle near Robyn.
The condom – originally made from Robyn – was invented in the early 1500s.
Robyn is actually a mammal, not a fish.
Robyn has a memory span of three seconds!
Human beings are the only animals that copulate while facing Robyn!

* * * Someone asked a few days ago – or maybe weeks, I don’t remember – why it is that I love my Healthy Back Bag so much. Let me tell you why I love it so much. This is why:

It has so many pockets on the inside and the outside of the bag that I can fit anything I could ever want to fit, in this bag. And it doesn’t seem crowded at all – plus, it’s big enough (bigger than it looks, really) that if I’m running errands I can fit a hardcover book and a liter of water in there with very little struggle. And I never have problems finding anything, because everything has it’s place. The cell phone and my keys go in the outside pocket, the gum and tampons go in the zip pocket with the flap, the sunglasses go in the pocket along the “spine” of the bag, and everything else has a pocket inside the bag where it belongs, except for my wallet, which sits in the middle. Not to mention that the strap is adjustable, and it doesn’t slip down my arm very often. The one I use while I’m at home is a size small, but I also have a size regular for traveling – I can carry my medication, my glasses and a contact case, and several books in it with no trouble at all. If you’re looking for the perfect bag, this might be the one for you. (Then again, it might not. I’m not guaranteeing you’ll love it as much as I do!) * * * Last night I made a chicken and broccoli with garlic sauce for dinner. It was a new recipe, one I’d never made before, and to say it was a resounding flop would be understating it. I hated it, the spud hated it, and Fred hated it. It was unanimous. So after dinner Fred and I were laying on the bed talking, and he said “Well, you know, I just don’t like thyme all that much.” “You like thyme on your crack,” I pointed out, and immediately snickered. Fred tried to ignore my adolescent humor, but couldn’t withstand the smirking and laughing for long. At the exact same moment, we burst into song. “Thy-y-y-yme is my crack! Yes it is!” we sang. If I were ever to doubt that he’s the perfect match for me (which I don’t), it’s times like that when I realize it anew. We’re such dorks.

We were watching the Jack Bauer Power Hour Monday night, and I noticed that Chloe’s boy toy, Spenser (that’s him on the lower right), looks an awful lot like he could be a Menendez brother. I’m not sure which Menendez brother is which, but I think it’s Erik with the curly hair? (Okay, I went and looked. It’s Erik I’m thinking of) Anyway, I think Spenser looks like he could be related. Chloe better watch her back. * * * Fred took a bunch of really good pictures of Sugarbutt and Tom Cullen the other night. The ones I like the most are below, but there are a ton more over at Flickr you might want to check out.

“Bob! BOB! BOOOOOOOOOOB! Me and Tommy are getting cozy and we’d like some ‘nip! We know your whole rehab thing fell through, so come bring us a snort, would ya? Bring the good stuff.”

Oh, how the brudders love each other.

Best. Picture. Ever. All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: He emailed me back immediately. You’re already too old to die tragically young. 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: And Mildred and Myrtle were hanging out merrily in their very sheer bright yellow bra, waving at all and sundry. 2001: Just thinking about it makes me grumpy. 2000: Y’all stay warm, now!]]>

1/23/06

After watching part of season 2 of The O.C. this past weekend, I have determined that my new favorite saying is one that came from Summer: You can’t ride two horses with one ass. I don’t think there’s anyone on that show I don’t absolutely love. Well. Marissa and Ryan are a little bland, but the straight men always are.

* * * Currently reading: Scenes from a Holiday. Finished late Saturday night: The Breakdown Lane, by Jacquelyn Mitchard. I liked this book a lot – a LOT – which surprised me a little. I had a hard time reading Twelve Times Blessed by the same author (because I didn’t care for it), but I enjoyed her compilation of columns – The Rest of Us – so much that I wanted to like The Breakdown Lane. And I did! I definitely recommend it. * * * So a few months ago someone recommended that I read a column by Stephen King. He writes the occasional column for Entertainment Weekly. Since I actually canceled my subscription to Entertainment Weekly a few years ago – there was usually nothing in Entertainment Weekly that wasn’t in People, I figured, and then mere weeks after I canceled my subscription, Stephen King started writing for them, FIGURES – I looked around to see if I could find the column online. Entertainment Weekly does, in fact, have a section where they provide the Stephen King columns free of charge. I check it every couple of weeks to see if there’s anything new, because y’all KNOW I loves me some Stephen King. But the thing is… okay, here’s the thing. Not only does Entertainment Weekly offer these columns free of charge, but they also provide a place at the bottom of the page where people can comment on the column. And it’s when I occasionally – accidentally, I assure you – glance at the comments that have been left that I get all kinds of annoyed. Because first of all, people think Stephen King comes back to read the comments. Like he’s got nothing better to do. Like he might read their comment and say “Hey, that’s a pithy and talented writer right there! I can tell by the way she overuses her “LOL”s in an ironic fashion! Let me send her a million dollars!” And secondly, I cannot stand the way people address Stephen King in these comments. On the one hand are the people who are, in my opinion, too formal. They call him “Mr. King.” They tell him how much they love his work, how much they agree with his column, how they met him once when they were 13 and it was a defining moment in their life, they bow and scrape. On the other hand are the people who are too familiar. They address him as “Steve” or “Steve-o”, and yes – I am aware that he addresses himself as “Steve-o” often, but chances are good that he’s met himself before. He’s not some stranger walking up to him on the internet and calling him “Steve-o” like they’re the best of buddies. It just seems wrong to me. I think everyone should just address him as “Stephen King.” Because anything else just doesn’t work, as far as I’m concerned. And y’all know I’m the authority on this thing. After all, I have seen Stephen King in the flesh (Does that sound like I’ve seen him naked? Because, um, NO.) no less than three times in my life. Me and Stephen King, we’re buds. He told me to tell you so. * * * “What are we going to watch tonight?” I asked Fred. He’d been to the movie store earlier in the day, picking up more Smallville DVDs, and had picked up a few movies while he was at it. “How about Red Eye?” he suggested. “Oh, definitely! I’ve been wanting to see that. I didn’t know it was out!” “Yeah, me too.” “I haven’t seen Jodie Foster in anything since Panic Room,” I said. “I like her.” “I know you do.” Later that evening, we put the DVD in, and the menu (eventually) came up. “Huh,” Fred said. “I’m surprised they didn’t put Jodie Foster’s face in the menu, since she’s the star. Who’s that girl?” “Rachel McAdams,” I said immediately. “I like her. Maybe she’s a flight attendant, or the bad guy?” “Maybe,” he said. Ten minutes into it, we looked at each other, confused. “Is this the right movie?” Fred said. “I thought Jodie Foster was the big star, and that we’d see her from the very beginning,” I said. “Let me go look on Internet Movie Database.” A minute later, I walked back into the living room. “The Jodie Foster is Flightplan. This doesn’t have Jodie Foster in it, Rachel McAdams is the star,” I said. I’m glad I wasn’t alone in my dumbassery. At least it turned out to be a pretty damn good movie – Cillian Murphy does creepy very, very well. And that Rachel McAdams, have I mentioned? Cute as a damn button. * * *

Fred was getting his breakfast Sunday morning, and he turned from the counter to the refrigerator to get the milk, and when he turned back around, Tommy and Sugarbutt were helping themselves to Cheerios. They actually ATE CHEERIOS. Those cats will eat anything and they don’t wait for an invitation.

Shoogie chills with his Daddy. More uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: Damn Home Depot. 2003: Yep. READY FOR SPRING! 2002: Sam’s rocks. Just so you know. 2001: I don’t know how on earth I missed it the first time around. But I’m sure it was Fred’s fault. 2000: “Fred, is F-A-G a bad word?”]]>

1/20/06

Smallville theme song in my brain ALL THE FREAKIN’ TIME, because Fred watches as many episodes of it as he can when he gets home (and puts together his jigsaw puzzles while watching it), so I feel like I’m hearing the theme song constantly. It’s not a bad song, but DAMN. I’m ready to have some other song – ANY other song – bouncing around in my head.

Currently reading: The Breakdown Lane, by Jacquelyn Mitchard. Recently finished: The Last Time I Saw Paris, by Elizabeth Adler. Possibly if I had ever been to France, I might have enjoyed the blow-by-blow description of every single morsel of food the protagonist and her lover ate while they were visiting France, but it got really really tedious and I ended up skimming a great deal of the book thinking “Yeah, okay, the food in France is good. CAN WE MOVE ON?” * * * Speaking of books, I finally got around to watching the Larry King Live episode with James Frey on it. There was an awful lot of dancing around and non-question-answering going on during that interview, wasn’t there? I think that I’d have a lot more respect for Frey if he’d just said, straight-out, “Yeah, I exaggerated some things and I made up a few things. I suck, and I’m sorry if anyone was hurt by my actions.” The thing is, if you’re going to go onto a national show to talk about allegations that were made against you, either answer them or get OFF the show. For god’s sake. And that said, I do have to say that I still think that A Million Little Pieces was a book worth reading, which I know a lot of people disagree with. His writing style annoyed the hell out of me at first, but I got used to it. I found it interesting, and like I’ve said, it does give you some idea of what addiction feels like. Like Copper-Top does, I find James Frey’s personality a bit annoying. I think it’s important to him to be seen as a badass and I don’t think he’s nearly as much of a badass as he’d like to be. His voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me (he sounds exactly like a high school boyfriend, which is probably why), and I wish I’d marked down how many times during his appearance on Larry King he started a sentence with “You know” and stuck an “I mean” in random places, because he did it a LOT. My favorite part of the interview, however, was when Larry King repeatedly referred to Frey’s other book as My Best Friend Leonard. For the record, it’s just My Friend Leonard, no “Best” in there. It reminded me of the episode of Oprah, when she had Wally Lamb on her show, and she kept calling his book I Know This Much To Be True, rather than the correct I Know This Much is True. You better bet that when Oprah makes my first novel an Oprah Book Club pick and she gets the title of it wrong, I’ll be all “Oprah. Please. You’re making me twitch. It’s How Much Shit Could a Dipshit Dip if a Dipshit Could Dip Shit?, not How Much Dipshit Could a Dipsit Dip. PAY ATTENTION!” I found Jacquelyn Mitchard’s post on the topic an interesting read. * * * I think I took my first steps toward being an adult yesterday. I was sitting at my desk eating lunch (roasted asparagus, yum!) when the doorbell rang. I glanced out the window and didn’t see a UPS or Fedex truck, so I walked over to the window and looked to see if there was a vehicle in the driveway, thinking that maybe Fred’s mother had stopped by. I didn’t see a vehicle, and I couldn’t see who was at the front door, and I thought about just not answering the door, but I thought it might be one of the neighborhood kids or a neighbor and I didn’t want to seem rude, so I finally just answered the damn door. It was a woman – a tiny woman; I swear she couldn’t have been much over 4 1/2 feet tall – and she was with some company that builds sunrooms, and she immediately handed me a flyer and started with her sales spiel. Now I, personally, would LIKE to have a sunroom on the back of the house, but if we’re going to put the house up for sale in a year or so it would be utterly ridiculous to build a sunroom now. Even I can see the ridiculosity of such a thing. So I stood there, and I thought to myself “I have two choices here. I can listen politely to her spiel and tell her to come back and talk to my husband, or I can just interrupt her and say we’re not interested.” Now, to those of you who have already reached grownuphood, the choice would be easy. But I’m a big chicken – I know not why – and it’s always been my practice in the past to listen to the sales spiel and then make up some transparent excuse, like “I was just about to leave the house” or “Oh, we already have a sunroom” or “You need to come back and talk to my husband” until they leave. But yesterday, I thought to myself “My asparagus is getting cold!” and lickety-split, I smiled and said “We’re not interested.” and she thanked me and went along her way. She didn’t insist that I listen to her speech, she didn’t try to force her way into the house to show me exactly where a sunroom would look good, she didn’t bonk me upside the head. She just THANKED ME and WENT ALONG HER WAY. Amazing. Dare I suggest that this means I don’t have to be scared to answer the front door anymore? Oh, who’m I kidding? I doubt I’ll ever answer the front door again. * * * Pet store kitty pics from Monday are here. * * *

::URRRRRRRRP:: “Oh! ‘Scuse me!”

“Bahahahaha! That was LOUD! Good one, Tommy!”

“Hee! Thanks! I’m the burpin’ KING!” All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: Who the fuck knew? 2004: A Kitchenaid mixer! 2003: “My ass. Please let him go for my ass, and not my throat or my eyes, I’ve got plenty of ass to spare.” 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: Double ear infection, thankyouverymuch.]]>

1/19/06

* * * Currently reading: The Last Time I Saw Paris, by Elizabeth Adler. Finished last night: The Usual Rules, by Joyce Maynard. Very, very good book. It’s written from the perspective of a 13 year-old girl who loses her mother on 9/11, and what her life is like afterward. I teared up so many times while reading this book I’m surprised I didn’t get dehydrated. Which reminds me – I once wrote that for the longest time, I thought Jacquelyn Michard and Joyce Maynard were the same person. So when I read the afterword at the end of Joyce Maynard’s book, imagine my surprise when I found that Jacquelyn Mitchard helped Joyce Maynard come up with the name for the protagonist of The Usual Rules. I guess they’re buddies, or at least acquaintances. It’s a small, small literary world.

Thanks to reader Clarise’s comment about Tuesday’s entry, I now have a brand-spanking-new tagline for this site. How’s this: Bitchypoo: An acidic and hostile place. I think one of you talented types should work me up a logo that includes that tagline! Please? * * * Okay, I have something very odd and disturbing to show you. I’ve thought about just NOT showing this to y’all, but honestly, it’s something that needs to be seen, if we are to someday understand it. First, a little backstory. When I was in Maine, we decided to run over to Village Candles in Topsham to see what they had on sale. I walked around for quite a while, checking out the sales, sniffing candles, and repeatedly telling myself that I didn’t need to buy ANYTHING, that I have a ton of candles at home I haven’t used up yet, and I for sure didn’t need any more Christmas decorations. And then I went over to the 50% off table, and I saw something that just left me speechless. Did I get pictures? But of course.

A shell… on a stick. A SHELL ON A STICK. The mind absolutely boggles. I couldn’t look away. I just don’t get it – what the hell is the point of a shell on a stick? What does one DO with a shell on stick? Do people stand in their houses and look around and say “I like what the decorator did… but it needs something more. No, not a sculpture. No, not a painting. Something just right… Something different… Something that will impress all the neighbors… Something oceanic… Something shell-y. Something stick-y. Eureka! A shell on a stick! You think they might have shells on sticks around here somewhere?” A shell on a stick. If you’re looking for one, your prayers have been answered. They were originally $24 each, but were marked down to $12 – being on the 50% off table and all – so you’d better hurry! Wouldn’t a shell on a stick be a lovely conversation piece? You could put it on your mantel and when your mother came over to visit, she could say “What the hell is up with the shell on a stick? I raised you better than that!” I honestly came thisclose to buy two shells on sticks and sending one each to Jane and Nance, along with notes that said “This made me think of you!” just because I knew that I’d get “What the fuck?” emails from them. A shell on a stick. Now I’ve seen everything. * * *

“Yeah, I was minding my own damn business, and Mister Boogers shoved his fat ass right into the bed with me. Does this bed LOOK like it’s made to hold two adult cats? I DON’T THINK SO. Also, he’s hogging all the sunshine.”

“How YOU doin’?” * * * Previously 2005: Every movie and every show we watch, he’s in there deconstructing it. 2004: Memes. 2003: A day in the life of Spot J. And3rson. 2002: No entry. 2001: Blech. 2000: I now officially have too damn many books to read. ]]>

1/18/06

1. You have $10 and need to buy snacks at a gas station; what do you buy? A Diet Coke and Reese’s Pieces or M&Ms. Maybe some nuts or Twizzlers. Can I get all that for $10? If I have enough left over, a bottle of water to flush all the junk food out of my system. 2. If you had to be reincarnated as some sort of sea dwelling creature, what would you be? I’d be a lobster, ’cause they are yummy, and I would be bringing joy to someone after I die a horrible boiling death. 3. Who’s your favorite redhead? Copper-Top! She’s adorable. I want to put her in my pocket and carry her around with me. In a non-creepy way, of course. 4. What do you order when you’re at a pancake house? Usually some sort of omelet. 5. Do you own any naughty toys? I don’t think anyone wants to know the answer to that. 6. Have you made out with anyone on your link list? (It originally said “Friends list” ’cause this came from LiveJournal, but I changed it to “link list” because I can) Uh. Yes. (I had to go see if Fred was on my list) 7. Describe your favorite pair of underwear: Seriously? People have favorite pairs of underwear? I love all my underwear equally. 8. Describe the last time you were injured: Yesterday morning; I was covering for someone at the pet store, and Sylvia got a little wild and scratched me. Brat. 9. Are there any odd things that make you feel comfortable? Numbers. Random numbers. I don’t know why. 11. Tell me a weird story from your high school years: I don’t think I have any weird stories, except for the night when I worked until closing at McDonald’s and two other closers and I were driving into Auburn to go to Denny’s, and as we drove across the bridge between Lewiston and Auburn, we saw a man climbing over the rail as if he was going to jump into the river. We turned around and drove back, and he wasn’t there any more. We called the police and made a report, and eventually another cop car came along with a transient in the back seat and the cops basically pushed us into saying that that was the guy we’d seen. Even though it really wasn’t, and we got an attack of conscience and went to the police station and told them that that wasn’t the guy we’d seen climbing over the railing, and they couldn’t have cared one single solitary iota less. 12. What is the wallpaper on your cell phone? A little baby pig. I tried out a couple of cat pictures, but they made the text hard to read. 13. Soda? Diet Coke. 14. Flavor of pudding? I like milk chocolate with a caramel swirl. Yum. I haven’t had pudding in ages; now I’m craving some. 15. What type of shirt are you wearing? A teal corduroy button-up shirt. It keeps me warm. 16. Prescription medication? Metoprolol (a generic of Toprol), Seasonale, Synthroid. 17. If you could use only one form of transportation for the rest of your life what would it be? I’d like a Segway, if I could get a little trailer for it. Otherwise, I think I’d need a car for hauling groceries and such. 18. How many people are on your links list? 130. 19. How many people on your links list do you know in real life? Not a one. 20. What are you listening to right now? Miz Poo snore. 21. Most recent movie you watched: Red Eye! 22. Name 5 things you have with you at all times: Cell phone, Blistex, my keys… And that’s about it, actually. 23. Would you rather give or receive a foot massage? Receive, as long as it’s not a perfunctory ::rub::rub::rub:: “Okay, done!” 24. Name a teacher you had the hots for: Are you kidding me? I had a crush on just about every male teacher I ever had. ::shudder:: 25. What is a saying that you use a lot? “What’d they say?” 26. What’s one piece of advice that you think should be passed on to every child? Wear sunscreen. (Ha!)

Meme #2 What were you doing 10 years ago? Uh… living in Rhode Island with the spud and my ex-husband. It was just about 10 years ago that I got my very first computer, a piece of crap that barely ran. I was only a few months away from meeting Fred. Man, ten years goes by fast. What were you doing 1 year ago? Same damn thing I’m doing right now. Sitting in front of the computer, chewing gum, drinking Diet Coke. Five snacks I enjoy: Blueberry bagels with whipped cream cheese, Cheerios, Rice Chex, California Rolls, and Whoopie pies (though I only ever eat those in Maine). Five songs to which I know all the lyrics There’s only one song to which I know all the lyrics, and that is “Friends in Low Places”, by Garth Brooks. Oh wait, that’s a lie – I also know all the words to “Little Bunny Foo Foo”. Oh! I also know all the words to “The Song that Never Ends.” (Yes, it goes on and on my friends! Some people STARTED singing it, not knowing what it was, and now they’ll go on singing it forever just beCAUSE! It’s the song that never ends! Yes, it goes on and on my friends!, etc.) Five things I would do if I were a millionaire: 1. Buy a house on the ocean. No, strike that. I’d buy several houses on the ocean, all together, like a compound, and then I would name it “Horseshit Alley” and each of my siblings would have their own house. But I’d keep ’em all under my name so that if they ganged up on me, I could KICK ‘EM OUT! Ha! 2. Buy a Mazda Miata. In yellow. Do they come in yellow? Maybe I’d just get a yellow Mustang. 3. Hire someone to clean my house on a regular basis. 4. Hire someone to cook for me (god, I hate cooking. 5. Buy a Toshiba Libretto U100. Five bad habits: 1. Blowing my nose at the dinner table (yeah, I know. Shaddup.) 2. Getting too easily annoyed by people I don’t know. 3. Getting too easily upset by stupid little things. 4. Buying books when I don’t need them. 5. Buying stuff when I know I’ll never use it. Five things I like doing: 1. Surfing de net. 2. Watching TV in the afternoon. 3. Rubbing Sugarbutt’s belly. 4. Reading books and magazines. 5. Getting all the laundry done in one day so it doesn’t need to be done again for several days. Five things I would never wear, buy or get new again: You know, I can’t think of a damn thing. Five favorite toys: 1. My cell phone. 2. My car (I’ve had it almost a year, and I still love it!) 3. My kitties. 4. My Dyson. 5. My Hoover Floormate. * * *

::sniff::sniff::sniff::lick::lick::

“Bleh.” * * * Previously 2005: Saturday I spent at least two hours – conservative estimate – finding and downloading a ringtone that sounds exactly like the “internal call” ring on 24. 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: I’m quite the stylin’ bitchypoo, I really am. 2000: It’s the period that never ennnnnnds! Yes, it goes on and on my friends!]]>

1/17/06

Spoiler from last night’s 24; skip to the next section if you haven’t seen it, or aren’t interested. Please. Please. PLEASE tell me that we’re not the only ones who noticed that when Martha Logan walked into the bathroom where the communications guy was peeing, he did NOT flush the toilet, and he did NOT wash his hands before he handed over the key card to the archive room, and THEN she PUT IT IN HER MOUTH as she was walking out. I’m not germ-phobic or anything, but GAG ME. To break it down: Hand on penis (probably splashed with urine), hand on key card (penis germs transferring from hand to key card instantaneously, as germs are wont to do), key card in the mouth of the First Lady. ::shudder:: ::twitch:: Fred says we’re just a couple of Monks.

* * * Today’s earworm: Somebody save me Let your waters break right through Somebody save me I don’t care how you do it Just save, save Come on I’ve been waiting for you (Save Me, by Remy Zero. Also known as the theme song for Smallville. Which Fred has been watching almost constantly, which is why the theme song is bouncing around in my brain.) * * * So, I took a look to see what people have been searching on recently. The most popular searches: Cat pee/ cat urine/ cat pee smell/ cat pee cleaner/ cat odor remover. I think you’re looking for the link to Axi-Dent, which is the only thing I’ve ever used that immediately takes away the smell of cat pee. Cat pee, if you didn’t know, is the nastiest smell on the planet. Ugh. I think the guy who owns the company behind that web site is willing to make other suggestions if you’d rather try something else, too. Book/ book I’m in/ written in a book. That would be Tales from the Scale, edited by Erin Shea. Unless you’re looking for Fred’s book, and that would From Chunk to Hunk. Which is also being put up online for free, here. Elliptical. It’s a Life Fitness X9i elliptical. And I still like it – a LOT. Although in the interest of full disclosure, I haven’t ::coughcough:: actually USED it all that often lately… Nasty comment. I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never gotten a nasty comment in my LIFE. Ha! Maybe you were looking for my response to the Einstein in Lakewood, NJ, who was telling me how it was? Or perhaps Jackie in Vancouver, who suggested that if I didn’t lose weight, pronto, I’d have to worry about my daughter trying to “steal” Fred from me? Or, wait. How about Sandra (down in the comments), who thought that my mentioning the fact that I was putting a book on my wish list meant that I was suggesting someone go buy it for me? I’m sure there are more, but those are the ones who came to mind. The funny thing is that I did a search on “twat” to find those entries, because Nance called Sandra and Jackie “twats”, and I remembered that, but not the specifics of what the two lame commenters had said. Heh. And the funnier thing is that someone DID go and buy that book off my wish list for me, just to spite Sandra. If you have a question you’d like answered, ask in the comments. God knows I’ll answer almost anything! * * * Sunday morning I got out of bed to go to the bathroom – and because it was time to get up – and as I did my morning business, Sugarbutt wound around my feet, rubbing up against my legs and purring like mad. Since I figured he was in the mood for love, I crawled back in bed and called his name and patted on the bed, hoping he’d snuggle up against me and let me pet his soft, silky fur. So I was laying on my side on the bed, calling for Sugarbutt, one hand patting the bed and the other hand just laying across the bed. Finally, he got curious about what was going on, and he jumped up on the bed and approached me. He let me scratch him behind the ears, and then he leaned down and sniffed my hand, the one that was laying on the bed. And then he made a chirping noise, jumped several inches straight up in the air, and ran off like his ass was on fire. Let me hasten to add that I had JUST washed my hands with pear-scented soap, so it’s not like he was smelling some nastiness or anything. I laughed my ass off, then I started calling him and patting the bed and he jumped up on the bed again. Again, he allowed me to scratch behind his ears, sniffed my hand, jumped and chirped and ran off like his ass was afire. All told, he did the exact same thing five or six times, and Fred finally had to come upstairs to see what the hell had me cackling so hard. I sure do love that Sugarbutt. * * *

* * * The two most fascinating bits of information I’ve learned so far this year: 1. On the dashboard of most cars, on or around the gas gauge, there’ s an arrow or a little gas pump that indicates which side of the car the gas tank is located on. I myself have a little gas pump and an arrow:

This is strangely fascinating to me. I’ve probably seen that arrow and gas pump a thousand times, but never once did it occur to me to think to myself “Hmm. Wonder what that arrow stands for?” (That piece of fascinating information was passed on to me by Fred, who read it on Fark) 2. There’s so much nasty bacteria in your mouth that if you had an open wound on each of your arms and you licked one wound and rubbed the other in your ass (don’t give me that look; we all know you rub your wounded arms in your ass ALL THE TIME, you fucking freak), the one you licked has a much higher chance of getting infected. (And THAT piece of fascinating information was read in Kevin Smith’s blog.) Just a little fascinating information, passed from me to you. Go forth and spread the fascination. * * * Sooooo… remember a while back when Fred painted the master bedroom a light yellow color, and I was all “Yeah, I think I like it. The more I look at it, the more I like it. I think.” Well, in truth, the more time I spent in that room, the more I disliked the yellow. At certain times of day, in certain light, it was a lovely, soft yellow color and I liked it. But the rest of the time, it was just too damn yellow. It was distracting when I tried to read, and sometimes it seemed like it was just a horrid neon yellow. So Fred repainted it this past weekend. Before:

Now:

American Tradition 4006-3B, Palisade Blue. Unlike the yellow, where I walked in and said. “Yeah… I think I might like it. Or not. Do I like it? I don’t know…”, I walked in when Fred was done painting, and I said “Yep, I love it!” Still need a new comforter, though. * * *

Yeah, okay, that’s really comfortable. It’s not like you’re putting my arm to sleep with your rapidly portlifying gut, Tommy.

That boy is just Not Right. (All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.) * * * Previously 2005: Stuff I Bought. 2004: No entry. 2003: Frequently asked questions. 2002: I love me some messing around with the camera. 2001: I was being subjected to porn without realizing it! 2000: Ben and me, we had sex in the back of a van.]]>