Category: Life

reading: Hating Valentine’s Day. I finished The Catcher in the Rye last night (I read it at some point in high school, by the way; this wasn’t my first reading). That Holden Caulfield sure does say “old” a lot. Old Phoebe. Old Jane. Old this, old that. It’d be almost charming if he wasn’t such a whiny little bitch.

* * * Hey, I made a favicon using some site I wandered across, and now if you look up in the address bar next to the site address, you should see it. You might not, though – it doesn’t always show up, and I’m not sure why. I think it depends on what browser you’re using – it won’t show up in Internet Explorer for me, but it does in Firefox (which is what I usually use – I just keep Internet Explorer around for emergencies). I used my badass picture, if you can’t tell. And looking up there and seeing that itty bitty version of the badass picture just cracks me UP. Oh, shut up. I’m easily amused, I’ll admit it. * * * So, if you search this site regularly (using that “search this site” link over there in the sidebar), you might have noticed that I’ve switched from PicoSearch to Freefind; PicoSearch has a 1500-document limit for their free search engine, which I was rapidly approaching, and Freefind doesn’t seem to have a limit. Sure, there are some ads at the top of the result page, but they’re not overwhelming, so I think I’ll stick with Freefind for now. I suggested to Fred that, with his big brain and his ability to whip out software without thinking twice, he could write me a search engine for my site. He agreed that he could – but I don’t think he particularly wants to. Besides, even if he did there are so many other things on the list of “Things to do for Robyn, computerly speaking” that writing me a search engine is pretty far down the list. I’ve noticed, since I get to see what people are using the search engine to look for (but don’t worry, I don’t know who’s doing the searching) that there have been a ton of searches for “chick peas” and “pita”. Your best bet, if you’re looking for a recipe, is to click on the “recipes” link over there on the sidebar under Other. The pita pizza recipe is listed under The Red Auerbach Pizza (in entrees) and the roasted chickpeas recipe is in the sides section. Also, the carpet cleaner so many of you search for? It’s called Axi-dent, and it does an excellent job of killing the smell of cat pee on contact. So many people search for that that I think I’m just going to link to it in the sidebar so it’ll be easier to find. I’ll get around to that this week, hopefully. * * * Last night, Fred and I spent a good half hour talking about opening a used book store. There’s space for rent within walking distance of our house, and really – running a used book store would be absolutely perfect for me. The problem is that I’m sure the space we were talking about is pretty expensive – everything in this town is getting to be pretty expensive – and I’m not sure Madison can support a used book store. There was one a few years ago that went out of business pretty quickly. And I’m not willing to gamble our savings like that, you know? At one point I said “We could make it a used book store and a used movie store, and name it ‘Couch Potato’!” And then I said “And we could get a store cat!” Fred said “We couldn’t get a store cat!” “Why?” “Because what would we do with it if the store went out of business?” Damn. He saw through my wily scheme! Man. If we’d saved every book we’ve read instead of giving them away, we’d for sure have enough stock to open a used book store. * * * What better way to spend a rainy, crappy day than snuggled up on The Momma’s bed?]]>

reading: The Catcher in the Rye. Read over the weekend: Bundle of Joy?

* * * There are no pet store kitty pics this week, because I’m a dumbass and forgot to take the camera with me. Even though I LOOKED at the camera and was going to put it in my purse, I got sidetracked by the need to clean out my purse, and ended up forgetting the camera. It’s too bad, too, because there were a couple of 7 month-old kittens, one a very fluffy longhair gray-and-white boy and one a gorgeous buff tabby. They were both friendly and had that peanut-head smell that all kittens seem to have. Hopefully I’ll remember the camera next week and they might still be around (the shelter is requesting that they be adopted together, and it generally takes a little longer for two kittens to be adopted together than one kitten alone). * * * The spud is doing just fine. She woke up Saturday in some pain, took a pain pill, and slept ’til noon. Since then, she’s pretty much been her usual self, though she’s been walking kind of stiff-legged (which, to her great amusement, Fred mocked) and has to sit on pillows when she’s sitting at the dinner table, but other than that? Just fine. Thanks for your well-wishes! * * * My sister turned 35 on Saturday – HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEB!!!! – and among the presents I sent her was a gift certificate to Joann’s Fabrics. Deb’s into scrapbooking and cross-stitching and is generally just a crafty kinda gal. I bought the gift certificate when I was in Maine after Christmas, and Debbie was with me when I bought it, but she was on the other side of the store, and so I was paying for it and she popped her head around the end of an aisle to show me something… and, well, here’s the letter I enclosed with the gift card: I’m SURE you don’t remember this, but remember when we went into JoAnn Fabrics one evening to check out their clearance stuff when I was up there after Christmas? And you wandered off down an aisle and I went to the cash register to pay? And then you popped your head around the corner and then thought I was shushing you? Well, I wasn’t shushing YOU, I was shushing the cashier, because I’d thought it would be a good idea to get you a gift certificate, and I thought you were on the other side of the store, then you popped up and were trying to show me something, and she was telling me AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS something or other about the gift certificate and I was trying to get her to shut the FUCK up, and so I was shushing her but she didn’t GET IT. So you thought I was shushing you and you were all “Oh, am I being loud?” and I was all “Um, yeah, kinda!”, ’cause I didn’t know what to say and I just wanted you to go back around the corner so you wouldn’t guess what I was doing. And THEN in the car on the way to Mom and Dad’s, I was thinking “Well, THAT was rude, to tell her she was being too loud! I don’t want her to think I was shushing her!”, so I made up some STUPID FUCKING story about how I’d jammed my finger and was actually WINCING in PAIN, not shushing you. I’m such a fucking dork. Anyway. I was not shushing you! You were not being too loud! And happy birthday! It turns out she figured out what I was doing, anyway, BECAUSE OF THE BIG-MOUTHED CASHIER. Heh. * * * We watched Pauly Shore is Dead last night. It was surprisingly not bad at all, despite the fact that Pauly Shore annoys the shit out of me. Any movie where a bunch of Hollywood B-listers make cameos has to be pretty good. The Michael Madsen/ Tom Sizemore thing was hilarious. We watched The Incredibles Saturday night, and that was pretty damn good, too. * * * Mister Boogers models the latest in Bad Kitty-wear.]]>

reading: The Second Assistant. Yes, STILL.

* * * I didn’t wear any green at all yesterday, and not one single person pinched my ass. Hmph. * * * I swear, y’all, I’m not ignoring those of you who’ve asked whether I’ve gotten a new car yet. It’s a long story and won’t be told ’til there’s an end to it, which should be by the middle of next week. Hopefully. (And it’s not nearly as exciting as it sounds, believe you me.) * * * Anyone watch Wife Swap the other night? Anyone else think that Nancy Cedarquist’s “The man is the head of the household; the man goes out and works, the woman stays in and takes care of the house” attitude was a very obvious cover for the fact that she’s a control freak who wants to control every instant of her family’s life? Anyone else think that Nancy Cedarquist came across as extremely unlikeable? (Oh, for god’s sake. According to this, she doesn’t “believe” women should have the right to vote or work outside the home. What an idiot.) Anyone else think that Michael Oeth was a dead ringer for John Kerry? * * * The spud is, right now, laying on her bed, looped on some pretty good pain medication, nursing a sore backside. She had a pilonidal cyst removed from her tailbone area about three hours ago. She first told me last Spring that her behind was hurting, and I didn’t want to look at it, because when you were 15, did YOU want your mother examining your ass? I don’t think you did. So I took her to the doctor who checked it out (I stayed in the waiting room, thank you), and she decreed that it was an infection and prescribed antibiotics and said that she wanted to see the spud again in 10 days. Except that 10 days after her doctor appointment she was in California, so she never did see the doctor for a follow-up visit. But before she left for California, she did assure (ASSure me! Ha!) that it was feeling better and life went on as normal. Then in January she told me that she was having the same pain again, and I made an appointment with her doctor, who again put her on antibiotics and wanted to see her in 10 days. I took her back in 10 days, the doctor proclaimed that it was better, and then referred her to a surgeon. It seems that, for the most part, surgery is the only way to get rid of a pilonidal cyst. The surgeon checked it out (I was sitting across the room and kindly averted my gaze to spare the spud some embarrassment. The same way I’m spreading (spreading! Ha!) stories about her butt all over the internet. That’s not embarrassing at ALL. Luckily, she’s not easily embarrassed and if you all send her get-well cards and large amounts of money, she might forgive me.) and said he wanted to remove it, went through the options – basically, some surgeons prefer to remove the cyst and then sew the opening, uh, open so that it heals. This surgeon preferred to remove the cyst and sew the opening closed so that it would heal closed and the chances that another cyst would develop would be slim. The surgeon, by the way, was very personable. I’ve always heard that surgeons are assholes with god complexes (complexii?), but every surgeon I’ve ever had to deal with has had pretty good people skills and been not only funny, but nice. So I asked some questions, and once those were answered I asked the big one. “How long will she have to stay out of school?” I asked. “About a week,” he said. “Just because it would be uncomfortable for her to be sitting in those school seats all day long.” The spud? Out of school for a week? Missing all that school? Oh, I don’t think so. Because she’s a weirdo who doesn’t LIKE to miss school (I’m sure the social aspect of it has nothing to do with that). “Does it need to be done right away, or can it be put off until Spring Break?” I asked. “Well, I’m going to be gone for Spring Break, but we could do it the Thursday or Friday beforehand.” Good enough for me. Even better, there’s a fairly new Surgery Center in Madison where he has operating privileges, and it’s located about ten minutes from our house. So this morning we left the house at 6:10 and almost right on the dot they took her back to be operated on. The doctor came out to talk to me around 8:30 – everything went fine, there’ll be some draining, he prescribed strong pain medication for her – and we were headed home by 9:30. They had a hard time getting an IV started, because her vein rolled and then blew (doesn’t that sound scary?) and the nurse had to do some poking around. The spud was pretty stoic during it, but I wanted to scream like a little girl and run around in circles in sympathy. So I brought her home, gave her some breakfast, and sent her upstairs. I went and got her pain medication prescription filled, gave her some of it, and she’s upstairs snoozing in front of the TV. I plan to keep her doped up all weekend long, which should get her through the worst of the pain. By the way, both my mother and sister had pilonidal cysts removed when they were in their early 20s (my sister could tell you some real horror stories, because she ended up waiting so long to have her done), but I never had a problem. Lucky me! I don’t envy the spud right now at ALL. I talked to my sister earlier, who said “Now make sure you baby her!” and I said “I’m doing her laundry for her this weekend, what more do you want?” Heh. Actually, I’m not usually much of a hoverer, but I’ve been up to check on her several times already, and it’s probably starting to freak her out. No doubt she wishes I’d leave her the hell alone and just let her SLEEP, GODDAMNIT. * * * “Is it EVER going to warm up? Ever? Because I think we need to move to the fucking Bahamas if this shit keeps up.”]]>

reading: The Second Assistant, still.

* * * It’s 11:40 and I have to run to Target because I have a huge list of stuff I need to buy, but it is SO COLD (40�) out and I am already SO COLD that I don’t want to leave the house. Possibly if I stopped drinking this big-ass cup of Diet Coke, I might warm up a little, ya think? I do need to get my butt in gear and go, though. I bought some new cordless phones a few weeks ago to replace the ones I had – which were starting to work only sporadically, and it was getting to the point where if the phone rang and we were in the living room, we’d pick up the phone, find it wouldn’t work, and have to go running around searching desperately for a phone that WOULD work. Anyway, I bought the new cordless phones and they work fine except for the fact that even with the volume turned all the way up, you can barely hear the person on the other line. So for the past few weeks when Fred calls from work our conversations have been like so: Fred: mumble mumble mumble Me: Are you talking to me? I can’t HEAR YOU. Fred: (marginally louder)MUMBLE MUMBLE MUMBLE Me: I CANNOT HEAR YOU. YOU NEED TO SPEAK UP. Fred: MUMBLE. MUMBLE. MUMBLE. Me: Oh, fuck it. Email me if it’s that important. Of course, in the best of times Fred is a mumbler and I have to say “Eh? What? WHAT’S THAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” until I get so annoyed I want to smack him. The funny thing is that when he talks to his father on the phone, he’s always saying “What? I can’t hear you, Dad…” Guess it must run in the family. * * * Another thing I’m going to pick up at Target is a teakettle, because I’ve really gotten into drinking a couple of cups of peppermint tea a day and I’m tired of boiling cups of water in the microwave. Also, Lisa the Awesome sent me a gift certificate for Adagio Teas a few days ago. I’ve been eyeballing a bunch of different things at Adagio for a while now – ever since Aimee (I think) linked to this – and trying to decide whether I wanted to buy that (in the 16-ounce size) and some different flavored teas, and the gift certificate was enough to get me off my butt and order some stuff. I ordered the ingenuiTEA teapot (linked above), two ounces of the peppermint tea, and samples of the vanilla, cocomint green, dewy cherry, and pina colada. My order should be here Saturday – I’m looking forward to it in a big way! Now’s your chance to recommend your favorite tea. Keep in mind that I don’t like bitter teas at ALL and I prefer flavored teas but am willing to try non-flavored; leave me a comment and tell me what I should try! * * * Someone asked in my comments a few days where people are redirected when they’re banned from my site. THIS IS NOT A WORK-SAFE SITE, and it’s kind of loud – this is where they’re being redirected right now. We used to have them redirected to a nasty porn site that I won’t link to; I haven’t actually looked at the page, but Fred tells me that I don’t want to, so it’s got to be pretty nasty. After a while I felt bad and wanted to redirect The Banned to a less offensive (yet still slightly offensive) site, so now they’re going to the page linked above. And now you know. 🙂 * * * To those of you who weren’t able to watch the Scrubs clip from last week: Fred says that you probably need to download Codecs. He doesn’t know which one, though. Helpful, no? * * * The seductive look. ]]>

reading: The Second Assistant. This book is seeming really familiar to me. Either I’ve already read it, or I skimmed the first chapter before I bought it. Since it’s not in my reading list for 2004 or 2003 and the book came out in 2004, I’m going to guess that it’s the latter.

* * * Pet store kitty pics from last Monday are up. I didn’t get any pictures this Monday, but that’s okay – there were no new kitties this week, either. Good news: Wolfgang and Mrs. Landingham have been adopted! Yay! I was starting to worry about those two, because no one seemed to realize what awesome kitties they are. Well, apparently someone (a couple of someones, I guess) did. Now all I really want is for Penda and Makenna to be adopted. * * * Okay, okay! I know y’all want to see what the bumper stickers on the back of my first car said, so I found the picture and scanned it. Here’s a bigger shot: And to see the full-sized version (which I’ll take down at the end of the month) go here. If you’re visiting after I took down the full-sized picture, here’s what the bumper stickers say: I’m in no hurry, I’m on my way to work. I’m stubborn only when I don’t get my way! Don’t tell me what kind of day to have. (Ironic, considering that I sign all my emails “Have a great day!”, isn’t it?) Party Animal! I owe, I owe, it’s off to work I go. If you get any closer introduce yourself! As a matter of fact I DO own the road! I’m the one your mother warned you about. Just visiting this planet. If you don’t like the way I drive, STAY OFF THE SIDEWALK. Don’t follow me, I’m lost too! So many pedestrians, so little time. Beam me up Scotty! Here’s to all the Verns in the world! And the banner across the back window? That’s a picture of Oliver North and “OLLIE FOR PRESIDENT.” I didn’t particularly want Oliver North to be President; I hardly knew who he WAS. I just wanted to get a reaction. I never did, though. Lucky for y’all I spent a LONG FREAKIN’ TIME going through old pictures while I was looking for that picture of my car, and thus I have many embarrassing pictures of yours truly. In no particular order. > I’m not in this picture, actually. Here we see John and Denise, ready for the Marine Ball. John, as you might have guessed, was a Marine. He asked Denise to go to the Ball with him, and she agreed, just because she wanted to go. He had SUCH a crush on her and she was SO mean to him because she was not interested at all. Now, look at that adorable face. How could she possibly resist it? He was one of the sweetest guys I knew. If I hadn’t been pregnant and married, I would have had SUCH a crush on him. Oh, hell – I DID. So cute! I think that Patrick resembles John a bit. Throughout my life, I have never quite perfected the lovely picture-taking smile that other people have. I seem to have two picture-taking smiles: the first, as seen above, is more of a grimace, and I am clearly thinking “Take the goddamn picture, before I grab that camera and shove it down your throat, bitch.” (December of 87) The second kind of smile is illustrated above: “If I bare all my teeth, it will pass as a natural smile.” This is from Halloween of 86. That’s not my real hair – I was wearing a black and white wig to which I’d added red paint. Someone pointed out at the party that I looked like I had a bleeding skunk on my head. The sultry look. Same party. Halloween of 87. I put on a pink and white striped nightgown, a lot of makeup, and glitter in my hair. I’m not sure what I thought I was going as. My god, I had big hair. Why didn’t anyone stop me from perming? I’m 15 (I think) here. June of ’83, and my brother Randy was graduating from high school. I ask you – what the holy hell was up with my hair? My bangs are hanging down, yet brushed sideways. I look like I have a combover! I was 16 in this picture. My friend Tammie and I were on our way to the Rick Springfield/ Corey Hart (shaddup) concert and she took my picture in the girl’s bathroom at school. Such a dork. Look! I had the big ’80s glasses! I went through a phase where I wore rolled-up bandannas around my neck; somehow I felt as though it hid my HUGE GUT. I would like to travel back in time and slap the shit out of me for feeling so hugely, grossly fat. My Dad and I. This had to be in 86. He looks so YOUNG and my hair is so BIG. He would have been… around 44, I think. So young! (Note the “Take the goddamn picture!” smile) Me, in my SASSY McDonald’s uniform. At McDonald’s, even. Note that the front of my uniform was gapping like a motherfucker. This would have been sometime in ’85. Liz and I on the crappy couch of my extremely crappy first apartment in Brunswick. 220 Main Street, if you live in the area. Make sure, if you’re driving by in the middle of the night, you honk really loudly so that my asshole of an ex-landlady is awakened. In fact, if you do it every night at 3 am, I’ll give you a dollar. (Not really) Note the huge hair. STILL. This was in May of 87. I’m sure I’ve shared this picture before – it’s one of my favorite pictures of myself from back then. This was Christmas night of ’84, and I was hanging out with my friends. It’s one of the few naturally-smiling pictures of me that exists in the entire world. * * * For dinner last night, we had little pizzas from a recipe Fred found in Men’s Health. My GOD were they good – I think we’re going to have them again as soon as humanly possible. I don’t know why they’re called Red Auerbach Pizzas – I’m sure there was an explanation on the page, but I didn’t read it. Anyway, the recipe is here if you want to try it for yourself. It was a big hit with all three of us. Also, I’ve discovered a balsamic vinaigrette recipe; I tried it out and liked it a lot. It’s excellent for those days when I’m not in the mood for honey-mustard salad dressing. That recipe is here. We’re trying another Men’s Health recipe tonight; if it’s good, I’ll share. * * * With a name like that, you know it’s going to be an interesting blog! Heh. * * * By the way, I have truly not been ignoring those of you who wanted to know how Fred was doing after his vasectomy last week. I wasn’t ALLOWED to write about it until after His Majesty had. But now you can go read all about it. * * * Not the best picture, but the LOOK Mister Boogers is giving Miz Poo absolutely cracks me up.]]>

Currently reading: Islands. Oh, and to the person who asked about the book about women driving alone – could it be The Bad Girl’s Guide to the Open Road? I know I’ve never written about that book – because I’ve never heard of it – but maybe you read about it somewhere else and thought you’d read about it here?

* * * I’m sitting here waiting for the cable guy to show up, and freezing my toes off. The lawn was covered with sleet when I woke up this morning. This after it was in the 70s on Saturday. I take it back about Spring being my favorite season – I much prefer summer, when I am not freezing to death every moment of my life. GAH. Hey, did you know that the 27th is not only Easter Sunday, it’s the day we turn our clocks ahead an hour? I love it when we do that – I hate the “lost” hour, but I love that we have more daylight at the end of the day. Now all I want is a nice string of sunny 70-degree days, and I’ll be happy. (Edited to add: Er, nevermind. We actually turn the clocks ahead on April 3rd. All I saw on my calendar was “Daylight Savings Time” and didn’t take the time to look closer to see that it’s only for Australia. Duhr.) Naturally, weather.com says it’s going to be rainy and overcast for the next 10 days. * * * I had to write a check to the spud’s school yesterday for lunch money. Now, when you write a check to her school these days, you are required to write all kinds of shit on the front of the check. Name, address, phone number, work number, driver’s license number. Everything has to be there or they won’t accept the check and the spud wouldn’t get her crappy school lunch. (Mmmm… tater tots…) Last night as I was scribbling down all the information, I realized that I’ve been writing down the driver’s license number I had when I had a Maine driver’s license. I’ve had an Alabama license for about 8 years now, but never got around to memorizing the number. Oh, wait. You know what? I think it’s actually the license plate number from my first CAR that I memorized. Because I had a Chevron credit card when I was 17 (I know! Horrifying that they’d give credit to a 17 year-old.)and when I used it, I had to write down my license plate number. Yep, I just went and looked at a picture of my first car. I’ve been writing down the license plate number of a car I owned (or rather, my parents owned) 20 years ago. Is it any wonder I have a fondness for small cars? I actually think it’s funny as hell that places like the spud’s school and Pizza Inn require you to put your license number on the front of your check. I mean, they don’t check what you write down against your actual license, they just take it on faith that you’ve written down the correct number. Here’s a thought: If I’m about to write a hot check, do you REALLY think I’m going to write down my real driver’s license number and phone number? I DON’T THINK SO. * * * Portly Poo in the box, tra-la-la-la-la! Portly Poo in the box, tra-la-la-la-la!… She looks like a sugar in a plum. “I will just lay here and roll around in the sun until you are so annoyed by my presence that you vacate that box. Bitch.” “Juuuuust laying and stretching. Yep, that’s all I’m doing!” “Go away, Boogie. This is MY BOX!” “Moooom, she won’t let me lay in the BOOOOOX!” (Pretend there’s a picture here of Miz Poo becoming so disgusted she can barely stand it, and stomping off.) “Myyyyy box! Is a very, very, very fine box! With a Booger sittin’ inside, and life used to be so hard! But now everything is easy… ’cause of MY BOX!”]]>

the solomon sisters wise up.

* * * Damn – is anyone NOT pregnant these days? Sundry, Aimee, Demi, not to mention just about every blogger in existence. It’s a veritable baby boom! Congrats, ladies. I’m looking forward to reading about it all! * * * The Go Fuck Yourself ‘burb no longer exists. Saturday, after a – shall we say – less than intelligent person left an ALL CAPS comment saying YOU NEED TO BE CAREFUL WHO YOU TRY TO UPSET! THERE ARE MORE OF US THAN THERE ARE OF YOU….PERVERTED BITCH., I checked my stats and found that someone had hotlinked one of the GFY images in someone’s tagboard and some of the readers of that tagboard weren’t smart enough to understand that if someone’s hotlinking an image, chances are good that it’s not the person hosting that image, and one of them left the above comment (the person who left the comment, by the way, will be redirected should she try to visit this site again. I know she simply isn’t intelligent enough to understand that I have better things to do than hotlink MY OWN IMAGES in the tagboard of some site I’ve never heard of, but lack of intelligence is not an excuse). I thought “Oh, I need to tell the person who owns that tagboard that it wasn’t me, that someone was hotlinking!”, and the owner of said tagboard still wasn’t quite smart enough to get it, and I checked my stats and found several more hotlinkers, and I said to myself, I said “Self? Life is too fucking short. Fuck that noise. Buh-bye, GFY ‘burb.” and I deleted the ‘burb and the images, and the ‘burb no longer exists. Feel free to start up a GFY ‘burb yourself, though, and I’ll happily link to it. Hell, I’ll even send you the GFY images if you want. Edited to add: The awesome Heather is going to be taking over the GFY page. Yay!!! I know for sure it’s going to be in good hands because Heather is (did I mention?) awesome! Edited to add (3/14/06): Or not. * * * So, I’ve changed a few things around on the site. I took down the FAQ page because, to be honest, I don’t think anyone was looking at it. I did a new bio page and answered a few of the most pressing questions (“Why do you and Fred sleep in separate beds”, “Are you ever going to have another kid?”, all that) at the bottom of the bio. I took down the links in the sidebar to Couch Potato and the GFY page, since neither of them exists any longer. I took down all the sidebar graphics, because they were slowing the loading of the page. I took down the “Currently reading” link at the top of the sidebar, because I was running that via Blogrolling and sometimes Blogrolling is down, and that meant that the sidebar wouldn’t load at all, which is annoying. I added a few pictures to the cast page. I have no idea how on god’s green earth I did it, but somehow the RDF feed and XML feed are working again. I’ll add links to both of those in the sidebar at some point this week – and if I haven’t done it by Friday, feel free to email and harass me about it. Oh, and if you have a livejournal, you can add me to your friends list – here for the XML feed. (Do I have that right? I think I do…) So that’s what’s going on with the site. In case you were wondering. And you know you were! * * * From my comments: i know you have probably told us a million times, but what is that box thing around Mr Boog’s neck?? That’s his collar that works with the electric fence so that when he goes out into the back yard and gets too close to the fence, it first beeps and if he doesn’t back away from the fence, he gets zapped. I know it looks heavy and bulky, but it’s really quite light, and he hardly seems to know he’s got it on. When I call for him so that I can put his collar on and open the cat door, he stands willingly while I put it on and doesn’t fight me at all. Oh, and he doesn’t have to wear it all the time – only when we have the cat door open, which is usually (depending on the weather) from about 6:30 in the morning to 6 or 7 at night. If it’s extremely cold or rainy, we shut the door and take the collar off. Some time back you mentioned a book about women traveling alone by car. I did a search on your site but couldn’t find it. Can you please give me the name of that book! For the life of me, I have NO clue which book this might be. Anyone out there know what book it might be? If so, leave a comment – I’m dying to know! I just checked and “The Shield” is starting on March 15th. Yeah!!! Woohoo! I can’t wait ’til it starts – Glenn Close is going to kick ass on that show. We just finished watching Season 3 of The Shield over the weekend and I had forgotten how badly it ended for Shane (also known around here as “The only member of The Strike Team I would not have sex with”) and Vic. I tried to talk Fred into staying up late to watch the season premiere tomorrow night, but he won’t go for it. Hmph. What is a meme? The dictionary definition: A unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another. The Bitchypoo definition: One of those things you see in someone else’s blog or journal that looks like fun (usually a survey), so you steal it and do it in your journal or blog. Awww, Robyn – you should totally get the Botox!It’s just the best! Well, you know, at 37 I’m saying “Hell, NO”, but like anything else in life, that could change. You never know! I could get Botox in my face, and then I could be like Fred. Fred will say “I’m so fucking pissed off right now”, and it’s the exact same facial expression he has when he says “Do we have any ham?” Er, not to say that Fred has had Botox injections, just that he’s naturally expressionless. I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong … I tried just playing the Scrubs clip, and I also tried downloading it to my computer and then playing it. It won’t play in the RealPlayer OR in QuickTime. Any inkling as to what I might be doing wrong? Any other complaints about this problem? Honestly, I have no idea. Did anyone else have problems seeing the Scrubs clip? I can email it to you directly, if you’d like, that might work. Just email me and request it, and I’ll send it to you. Hey, whoever it was that commented about living in rural East Texas and wanting a kitten, could you email me? I live not so far from you and I volunteer for the Humane Society – I might be able to help you out! Thanks! (Just in case not everyone reads the comments) That comment was from Julie – I’m not going to put her email address in here, but you can get it from her site. Also, if you adopt a kitten, you’re required to send me pictures. It’s the law! I’m sure you’ve been asked this before, but, having grown up in Bangor, Maine, did you ever see or meet Stephen King? If so, what was he like? I didn’t actually grow up in Bangor – I was born there, when there was an Air Force base there, but only lived there for a few years, if that. I did once see Stephen King; he was signing books at a movie theater when Christine (I think) was made into a movie, and I went and stood in line for ages with my mother. I was so in awe of him that when he asked my name I said “Robyn”, and then didn’t say anything else, but my mother stepped forward and said “With a ‘y’!”, so he spelled my name right. I remember only that he looked kind of bored, but he seemed nice enough. I’m sure he still remembers me. Heh! He once came through the drive-thru when I was working at McDonald’s, but I wasn’t working the drive-thru that day. Oh, and I saw the Rock Bottom Remainders in concert at the State Theater in Portland, and after the concert he walked across the street to the hotel where he and Tabitha were spending the night, and someone up the street yelled “Mr. King! Could I get an autograph??”, and he didn’t even look at the guy – he said “Sorry, I don’t do that!” and kept on walking. Just wanted to know, how is it that your cats will sleep in those beds??? I don’t know – they just love ’em to death, and sleep in them all the time. Maybe you should bribe your cats with catnip. 🙂 I have a question. Why do cat beds cost more than dog beds of the same size? For this reason, my cats sleep in beds with pictures of dogs on them. That’s a GOOD question – I have no idea! They’re made of the same material and everything, aren’t they? Maybe they charge more for the cat beds ’cause they know cat owners will spend more than dog owners? I don’t know, that doesn’t sound right. It’s strange, isn’t it? oh my god Robyn, do you think that mouse is still in your house??? UGH… the thought of mice makes my skin crawl… I have two cats (looking for a third) and I did have a mouse come in once. that mouse didn’t stand a chance, I saw him come in, and the cats had him cornered in the about an hour… I’m sure it’s not, or The Mighty Booger Hunter would have tracked it down and eaten it for lunch. I’m not that freaked out by mice, though, so I’d probably be okay with it if it was still wandering around the house. Okay, wait – let me amend that statement: I’m not that freaked out by mice unless they’re running directly at me, in which case I scream and run around in circles. * * * Da Boog contemplates what sort of trouble he wants to get into next. ]]>

* * * Recently, Fred and the spud went to Wal-Mart so that she could get some driving practice and do some shopping. While Fred was looking around, he remembered that he needed a dingus sling for his upcoming snip-snip. So he bought it and brought it home and showed it proudly to me, and then left it on top of my dresser for several days. One afternoon when the spud got home from school, we were talking about her day and out of the blue she said “Did Fred model his jock strap for you, too?” “Yeah,” I said, and grinned, remembering how he’d put the jock strap (and nothing else! Whoo!) on and danced around the room. I tried to convince him to shake his butt, yelling “Twinkle twinkle, baby! Twinkle twinkle!” at him like Vince Vaughn in the Be Cool trailer, but he wouldn’t. Because he’s a party pooper. ::sound of tires squealing:: “Um, ‘TOO’? Are you telling me that he modeled his jock strap for YOU?” I said. I envisioned Fred in his jock strap and nothing else, dancing around for the spud while she cried silent, horrified tears and wished frantically for her mommy. The spud nodded and giggled. “Yeah, it was funny!” “It was?” I envisioned Fred in his jock strap and nothing else, dancing around for the spud while she hooted gleefully. “Yeah, he danced around like this,” she explained, demonstrating someone big and goony flitting around the room. That afternoon when he came home, we went upstairs. I lay down on the bed while he was in the closet changing from his work clothes to his comfy sweats. “So,” I said, rolling over onto my stomach so I could see his face. “I understand you modeled your jock strap for the spud?” He paused in the midst of pulling on a pair of sweatpants and gave me a wide-eyed deer-in-the-headlights look. “ON MY HEAD!” he said frantically. “I PUT IT ON MY HEAD AND SHOWED HER!” Heh.

* * * I have created monsters in our kitties. Every single flippin’ time I go into the kitchen, there’s a stampede of kitties right there, hoping to be given some food. Spot is the ringleader and always the first one in the kitchen, sitting and giving me frantic god-in-heaven-woman-I’m-starving-to-death looks. If I don’t immediately give him something to eat he starts meowing. As I believe I’ve mentioned before, Spot damaged his vocal chords when he was a baby by meowing too long at Fred’s apartment door (Spot was outside, trying to get in – but every time Fred opened the door, Spot ran away. Then he’d come back and meow some more.). So Spot doesn’t meow like a normal cat; his meows sound like a squeaks from an unoiled hinge. But he’s gotten a new meow. Now, when he’s demanding food from me in the kitchen, he sounds like a small child screaming. And it drives me NUTS. It’s like nails on a chalkboard and it always sends shivers up my spine. I chase him out of the kitchen, but he always comes back and makes that sound again. He’s persistent as hell, and usually I just give in and toss him a piece of whatever I’m chopping up. I know, not a good response. And of course, if I toss him something, I have to give Mister Boogers and Spanky each a piece, too. It’s gotten to the point where I try to sneak into the kitchen, chop up whatever I have to chop, start it cooking, and run out before the cats catch wind of the fact that I’m in the kitchen. No matter where in the house or yard they are, though, they know within 30 seconds that I’m in the kitchen. Bastards. * * * I’m enjoying the hell out of The O.C in the mornings while I exercise. I’m about to the end of show number 3 of the first season and I get so caught up in the show that the time on the elliptical just flies by. (Seth is totally my boyfriend, by the way, whether he likes it or not. When he went to Marissa’s house and saw Summer standing there in her bra and Marissa said, loudly, “What’s that, Seth? You need a ride to the Star Wars convention?” (so Summer wouldn’t know they were talking about Ryan) and Seth said “Summer was standing there in her bra! Couldn’t you at least say the X-men convention?” I laughed out loud. I love that kid.) This morning, for the second time ever, I did 3.01 miles in 35 minutes. That’s fucking awesome for me. I guess it’s time to up the resistance a bit. * * * Dr. Phil had a follow-up show on the show I talked about last week, Mikai and his family. It aired yesterday and I DVR’d it, but haven’t watched it yet. So far I’m only up to Monday’s show (I always get a bit behind with Dr. Phil and Oprah), but when I do watch it I’ll try to remember to mention my impressions in here. Oh, and speaking of Oprah, she had the cast of Diary of a Mad Black Woman on last week (which I just watched yesterday). That Shemar Moore is one fine, fine, FINE man. I loved him back when I watched The Young and The Restless, and he’s only gotten better looking in the past several years. * * * Talk about your blank look.]]>

several times before. Sadly, we didn’t have the camera with us, and we were sad about that, believe you me. Obviously I need to stick the old camera in my purse and carry it everywhere with me, and I always intend to do that, but then I have to take it out to get the pictures off the memory stick and then I forget to put it back into my purse because I’m forgetful to the extreme. We spent about 45 minutes at the petting zoo. Fred got to feed raw meat to the lynx, who reminded us a great deal of Mister Boogers, not so much because he ran around like his ass was on fire (he didn’t), but because of the look on his face. Fred thought about petting the lynx – which he’s done before – but was afraid that the lynx would think it was food and take a chomp out of Fred’s hand. There were tons and tons of rabbits, some of them in cages, and several in a little petting area. I picked one up and petted it, but put it down pretty quickly because he was so obviously terrified. We fed little bitty pigs and checked out the Patagonian Cavys (and fed them, too), but of course my favorite by far were the itty bitty baby pygmy goats. There were a couple in a fenced area where you could go in and hold them, but there were kids in there doing just that, so we stood outside the fence and petted them and the two little lambs in there with them. The woman who runs the petting zoo (along with her husband) picked up one of the lambs and told me that he really liked to be held. The next thing I knew, she’d dumped him in my arms and walked off. He was the cutest little thing, just sitting there while I held and petted him, and I sniffed his head to see what he smelled like, and he had that exact same raw-peanut smell that kittens do. Fred came over and I handed the lamb over to him, and then we reluctantly put him back in his pen and then Fred went to use the port-a-potty, and I checked out the rabbits one last time, and we left. On the way home, my face started itching something fierce. My left eye got all bloodshot, and I scratched my face until it was bright red. It’s safe to say that I was having a reaction to something at the zoo, whether it was one of the animals or something in the air, I have no idea. We called the spud to see if she was ready to be picked up, and she said she wanted to stay later, so we went home. I took out my contacts and slathered my face with hydrocortisone cream and then we got in bed and talked for a few minutes before taking a 45-minute nap. In the same bed! The horror! The spud called when Fred was making dinner (egg burritos – recipe: scramble eggs. Put in flour tortilla. Eat.) and asked if she could stay later. He told her if she could get a ride home from someone she could stay later, she talked to her friends, and then said she’d call at 5:45 for us to come pick her up. We ate, we went and picked her up, we came home, she disappeared upstairs, and then we watched four episodes of The Shield, Season 3. That’s a busy, busy Saturday for us. It was kind of nice to get out of the house for the day, actually.

* * * So there’s this commercial that’s been running on Fox this week. It’s a commercial for The O.C., which I do not watch (more on that in a sec), and in said commercial there’s a voiceover about how Kirsten and Sandy have gotten their marriage back on track (yes, I know the character names, I SAID more on that in a sec!) only that troublesome Billy Campbell is joining the cast and WILL HE MAKE TROUBLE? Cue Billy Campbell giving Kirsten a come-hither look. Cue Billy and Kirsten at a table in a restaurant. “I’m married,” she says with an air of oh-god-Billy-I-wish-I-wasn’t-’cause-I’d-so-do-you-on-this-table-right-here. Billy gives her a come-hither look. “But you’re not wearing a wedding ring,” he points out. Kirsten gives him a full-of-conflict you’ve-got-me-there, somewhat embarrassed look. Which is when I scream at the TV. “So fucking WHAT if she isn’t wearing a wedding band, Billy Campbell, you shithead! She just told you she’s married! Not wearing a wedding band DOESN’T MEAN SHIT. Kirsten, tell him it’s none of his motherfucking business whether you wear a wedding band or not! GOD, Billy Campbell, I’m SO SORRY she isn’t wearing a wedding band. OBVIOUSLY if she was, you’d know she wasn’t worth your time, FUCKER.” Okay, I only yelled that the first time. After that, I only yell “Shut the fuck up, Billy Campbell.” I go through stages where I don’t wear my wedding band – long stages, months at a time. Usually because it’s uncomfortable, sometimes because I’m having swelling issues and take the ring off and forget to put it back on. Fred doesn’t wear a wedding band at all, because it’s uncomfortable for him. Does that mean we’re less committed to each other? NO. Cripes, Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee got their names tattooed on each others’ ring fingers, and you don’t see them together anymore, do you? Whether I’m wearing my wedding band or not, we are a happy couple (though I know some people don’t believe that. See: “God, I can’t believe they sleep in separate bedrooms. That’s NOT GOOD for a marriage at all, they’re THIS CLOSE to divorce!” See also: “God, she’s such a bitch. He deserves so much better. He deserves ME!”). Just because I’m not wearing a wedding band doesn’t mean that Billy Campbell can try his slimy wiles on me. Which, I’m sure, is something I need to worry about. You just mind your own damn business, Mr. Billy Campbell. SHE SAID SHE WAS MARRIED. * * * The scoop on The O.C: I never watched it when it started, and when the buzz got going on what a good show it was (or at least a guilty pleasure) it was more than halfway through the season, and thus too late for me to catch up. Fast forward to earlier this month, when Netflix sent me the first disc of the first season of The O.C. I started watching it while I was working out on Sunday, and I watched it again today, and I think I like it. I’ve even gone so far as to add the other six discs to my Netflix queue. Which brings my Netflix queue to around 300. Damn! * * * For some reason, The Boog likes to jump down in this little space next to my desk (perhaps he enjoys the ten tons of cobwebs) and smack that bottle top around. ]]>

Hey, help a girl out! I just got bombarded with Barnes and Noble and Amazon.com gift cards for my birthday yesterday. Turning 35 wasn’t so bad after all! Can you recommend some good books? I just read Mystic River and LOVED it. Not too chicky just good reads. Non chick-lit books I highly recommend: Anything by Harlan Coben (Fred loves the Myron Bolitar series; I think his non-series books are better, though I liked the Myron Bolitar books, too), Andrew Vachss, Lisa Gardner, Margaret Maron, Karin Slaughter, Carol O’Connell or Lee Child has an automatic two thumbs up from me. Andrew Vachss, Carol O’Connell and Lee Child all have series that have total ass-kickers as protagonists, and I like that in a character. I Love Everybody (and other atrocious lies), by Laurie Notaro. I finished reading that yesterday, and it had me laughing out loud many times. Hostage, by Robert Crais. Brimstone, by Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child I like the Repairman Jack books, but they have an element of science fiction to them that isn’t for everybody – I usually am not into science fiction at all, but for Repairman Jack I make the exception. Those are all that come to mind at the moment, but I know there are more. Everyone else, join in – what have you read lately that is really good? Leave a comment!

* * * So, I don’t know that I’ve mentioned this before, but Fred and I absolutely love Scrubs. We look forward to watching it every week, and it always makes us laugh. A few weeks ago we were watching an episode we’d recorded, and there was this short bit at the beginning of the show that pretty much captures why we love this show so much. Because I love you, I made Fred turn it into a .mpg so that those of you who haven’t checked out the show can enjoy it, and those of you who have checked out the show and like it can be reminded why this is such a great show. Don’t be lickin’ me no mo’. Fred and I sing this song CONSTANTLY and we’ve watched the clip about a thousand times; it’s just addictive. I’ll leave the clip up for the rest of the month; if it’s April and you’re just now reading this and the clip’s no longer there, I’m sorry you missed it. You may need to watch it in Quicktime. As always, right-click and save it to your hard drive if you’ll be watching it multiple times. * * * Ooh, look! Another meme! This one stolen from Miz Jolie. the scar you’re most proud of The scar on my back where I had the mole removed. It’s totally badass. your favourite condiment Ketchup! I love love love ketchup. if you have freckles Tons. your preferred method of cooking Ordering out! Heh. what shoes you’re wearing I’m not wearing shoes right now; the last shoes I was wearing were black leather Keds. how many children you have Just the one. the first person you french kissed My first boyfriend, John B0wi3. Ugh. It was horrifying. your preferred breed of dog Oh, those big messy friendly dogs who galumph around excitedly if you so much as look at them sideways. As long as they’re not galumphing around my house, that is. where you were born Bangor, Maine. what colour underwear you’re wearing Er… black. where your keys are right now In my purse, which is right next to my desk. if you have split ends Nope; I just had my hair trimmed a couple of weeks ago. when you last got laid Um. None of your BUSINESS. your opinion on airline food I know I’m supposed to say that it sucks, but honestly? It’s not bad. The snacks are better than the meals, but the meals aren’t usually all that horrifying. what cosmetic surgery you would consider Just about anything that didn’t require having foreign substances inserted into my body and left there – so that rules out any kind of implants. Also, Botox? Never ever ever. Also, I probably wouldn’t have much plastic surgery on my face, because I hate the unnatural plastic look that comes from too much plastic surgery. best kiddie playground equipment to have sex on Uh, GROSS. Kids PLAY on that equipment, you know. your worst malady Ongoing: my eczema. One-time: the tumor on my right knee. if your mum loves your dad I’m sure she does. if you can sing well I couldn’t carry a tune if I took sixty years of singing lessons and had a bucket to carry it in. what your olympic event would be Is there a “Reading” event? someone you admire Stephen King. which country would be hardest for you to locate on a map Paraguay. the last time you cried I don’t remember what it was, but Fred and I were watching something last week and I got all teary-eyed and he laughed at me, and I said “I can’t help it! I feel bad for them!” (And yes, getting teary-eyed counts as crying – because I get teary-eyed all the time, but I can’t recall the last time I boo-hooed.) your most interesting sexual congress location Damn, what’s with the sex questions? part of the Sunday papers you read first The classifieds, followed by the real estate section. the languages you speak Just English. the religion you were raised in “Protestant”. When I was growing up on Air Force Bases, there were two religions: Protestant and Catholic. I had no idea until I was mostly grown that there were different kinds of Protestant. if you can draw well Not in the slightest. your favourite photograph Of the cats: one of the last pictures of Tubby. That involves me: the picture of Fred and I from the quarry last year. The spud: Her school picture from last year, where she was wearing a hooded sweatshirt. Otherwise: The picture of my parents and Brian floating in innertubes in Hawaii last year, and the picture of Debbie and Brian doing the same. what you should be doing instead of this Cleaning the upstairs. * * * Watching the birdies… * * *]]>