Category: Life

Send me an email with Gmail in the subject. If you requested a Gmail invite the other day and didn’t get one, you might want to check your spambox, because the invites sometimes get marked as spam, especially by Yahoo, Hotmail, and AOL. If you check your spambox and didn’t get one, let me know and I’ll resend your invite. I’ll take this down when I have no invites left.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ So, the house appraiser (as someone predicted in my comments yesterday)was here about fifteen minutes, if that. She walked around the house, measured things, came in and asked a few questions, wandered around the house a little, and then was on her way. I should totally become a house appraiser, because I wouldn’t be stuck in an office all the time, and I’d get to tromp around peoples’ houses and see their stuff and how they have their house decorated. That sounds like an awesome job. How does one become a house appraiser? When the doorbell rang, all the cats except Miz Poo scattered. She huddled on her cat bed on my desk, her eyes all big and dark, and looked scared to death, as if the house appraiser was going to fly at her and begin beating her about the head. The other cats spent the rest of the day hiding under beds until they could be sure there was no longer a stranger in the house. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Speaking of cats, we watched Shrek 2 last weekend, and when Puss in Boots was barfing up that hairball, Fred laughed so hard I thought he was going to pass out. Also, when Puss in Boots had his leg hoisted over his head, and was grooming himself, we laughed pretty hard. We weren’t much looking forward to watching the movie, but we certainly enjoyed it anyway. Last night we watched The Forgotten. Not a bad movie, especially since we got to see Lee Tergesen (AKA Beecher from Oz), whom we love to death, and always excitedly exclaim “It’s Beecher!” Also, Linus Roache was heating up the joint; I’ve loved him ever since I saw him in Priest almost ten years ago. I would really have liked to see a different explanation for what was going on, though. The explanation we got was a bit cheesey. (Those of you who’ve seen it will know what I mean!) I have 100 movies in my Netflix queue. That just amazes me – oh wait, I just added Priest, so that makes 101. We currently have Collateral on the way to us, need to send The Forgotten back, and I have 7 Up still to watch. So many movies, so little time! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I picked up my mouthpiece from the dentist’s office the other day. It looked different than I expected – the old one looked like this: It was made of plastic, and as you can see, it went all the way around my teeth. The new one looks like this: It doesn’t cover my front teeth, and it’s made of a much harder acrylic. When I have it in, you can’t even tell I’m wearing it, except that I lisp a little more than usual (did you know that I’m a lisper?). It goes across the roof of my mouth, and I thought I was going to have a problem with that, but I’ve worn it for three nights now, and have been just fine; in fact, once I get it in I hardly notice it’s there. Until the morning. When I wake up in the morning, I usually lay in bed for a few minutes before I get up. I’m fine just laying in bed, but if I sit up and still have the mouthpiece in place and don’t get it out of my mouth fast enough, I gag and almost throw up. Yeah, I don’t know what’s up with that. I guess I need to start taking the mouthpiece out of my mouth BEFORE I get up, huh? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I had a dream the other night that Victoria from The Amazing Race and I were driving along in my Jeep, and the engine went kerflooey, and we ended up in the river. We both escaped just fine, and then she disappeared – probably to be berated by her asshole of a husband – and some homeless guy showed up and offered me a blanket. AND THEN GAVE ME THE QUILT I KEEP ON THE CHAIR IN MY BEDROOM. Thief. I’d say that the dream was my subconscious telling me that the Jeep is on its last legs (wheels?), but my conscious is pretty well aware of that. Maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me I should donate my beloved quilt, which I’ve had since I was 7 or 8, to charity, and it’ll come back to me tenfold? Fat chance. Speaking of cars, I’m really liking the Suzuki Reno lately. I saw one in the mall yesterday and it’s reminiscent (at least, to me) of the Toyota Echo. It doesn’t come in yellow, but it does come in a kicky burnt orange color. Hmmmm. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pardon the blurriness, but this picture cracked me up so much I just had to post it! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~]]>

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Ch@se Manhatt@n must know that we’re in the process of refinancing the house because we’re suddenly getting all kinds of calls from them wherein they try to get us to sign up for some lame-ass promotion so that they can suck even more money out of us. Fuck THAT. So yeah, we’re refinancing. We thought about doing it last year but decided not to for some reason. But earlier this week Fred talked to a guy (a refinancing guy, of course!), we decided that it would be worth our while. Thus, I’ve spent the last week filling out the somewhat confusing paperwork and making copies of bank statements, investing statements, W2s and the like. Fred handed over the package to the guy this morning and a little while later the guy’s assistant called to let me know she was looking at the packet and everything was fine, except I’d forgotten to provide my social security number. Duhr. Someone’s coming to appraise the house in a little while. Since I’ve never had a house appraised, I’ll be interested to see what it’s like. What I’m hoping is that she’ll just wander through the house and won’t require anything of me, because I have no desire to follow her around from room to room. I can’t believe I’m involved with things like “refinancing” and “house appraisals”. I guess this means I really am an adult, eh?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I had a total Jessica Simpson moment the other night. We were sitting down to dinner and Fred said something about the Kale being too salty, and then we had a discussion about how much salt was on it. “Sea salt,” I said. “1/3 of a teaspoon. Maybe you just took the Kale from the area of the pot where the salt landed. I’m not sure I stirred it in very well.” I thought for a moment. “I thought all salt came from the sea,” I said. “Not all of it,” Fred said. “Some comes from salt flats.” “How do they grow salt?” I asked. SERIOUSLY. Let me repeat that. “How do they grow salt?” I knew, as the words came out of my mouth, that I was asking a question of epic stupidity. Fred gave me the same look Nick gave Jessica when she said “Is this fish or chicken we’re eating?” “Salt is a mineral.” “Oh.” Next I’ll be turning down the buffalo wings because I don’t like buffalo. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kale, by the way, is awesome. Not only does it have a flavor that reminds me of chinese food (when cooked with garlic and a little olive oil), but if your digestive system is a little sluggish, it gets things moving along. Two thumbs way, way up for the kale. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I went outside yesterday to fill the bird feeders – which have been empty for almost a month because I am horrible at actually getting my ass out into the back yard and filling the feeders – and of course Mister Boogers had to go running out the door as soon as I opened it. I decided that rather than chase him down, I’d let him sniff around while I was out there, and then I’d take him inside when I was done. A moment later Miz Poo came outside and started sniffing around, and so I puttered around outside for a while, letting them sniff. Then I got cold, so I walked toward Mister Booger, who apparently realized I was about to pick him up and take him inside, because he got this oh-so-casual look on his little face as if he was thinking “Hmm. What’s over here? I should sniff over this way!”, and he started quickly walking toward the side fence that he likes to hop over. “Mister Boogers!” I said in my no-nonsense Mommy voice, and he stopped and looked up at me. “Why you being bad?” I asked. He made a grunting noise at me. “That’s right,” I said, and picked him up. Miz Poo watched from the patio, and I tried to shoo her inside, but she was having none of it. So I leaned down, Mister Boogers still in one arm, and picked her up. Now, she’s a portly Poo. She’s gotten even portlier since we started her on the steroids to make her lip go un-puffy, so portly that Fred has taken to calling her “Tubby.” NOT FUNNY. My point is that she’s so portly that it’s not really possible to pick her up with one arm. You need two arms to pick her up, and I had the Boog in one arm. So I had to kind of squish them together while picking them up. The Boog reached over and sniffed Miz Poo’s back, and Miz Poo reacted as she usually does, by hissing hysterically and smacking him upside the head, and then he reached over and bit her on her back, and she flailed and hissed and smacked some more. But I got the little shitheads in the house and got the door closed, so there was no fence-hopping for the Boog. He’s been absolutely wild ever since we shut the cat door. He wants OUT and when we won’t let him out, he runs around like his little stumpy tail is afire. Fred bought a small bag of Kitten Chow last weekend because the container of Kitten Chow we had was about empty. (I’ve mentioned before that we give Spanky, Mister Boogers, and Miz Poo a few pieces of Kitten Chow as a treat every night, right? They LOVE it. Spot’s not usually interested, but every once in a while he’ll eat some). So Fred put the bag of Kitten Chow in the bathroom closet, and a few days later he left the closet door open, and Mister Boogers hauled ass in there because he loves like hell to hang out in there. Naturally when he saw the bag of Kitten Chow he decided to do his best to get into it, and started ripping the bag open. Fred took him out of the closet, but every time either of us has opened the closet door in the past few days, Mister Boogers has run right in and done some more ripping. This morning I decided to put the bag on the shelf so he couldn’t reach it (yes, it took me almost a week to figure that out. Nothing gets by me!) and when I picked the bag up, about half a cup of Kitten Chow fell out and scattered all over the bathroom floor. Mister Boogers and Miz Poo were in hog heaven. I went downstairs to exercise, and when I came back up, every single piece of the Kitten Chow on the floor had disappeared. As much as Mister Boogers eats, I’m surprised HE isn’t a little portly. I guess he burns it off with all the spazzy running around. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Something hath disturbed the Boog. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~]]>

logo for February was done by wonderful reader Cally. It cracks me up, because just about anything that involves Mister Boogers cracks me up. Heh. Thanks, Cally!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Toe update: Fred went to see Dr. J yesterday, and when he told her that the other doc he saw last week said it was best not to poke a hole in the toenail because it might cause a bone infection, she said “What an idiot”, heated up the toenail-hole-poking tool, and poked a hole in his toenail. Fred said it was instant relief. I could actually see the difference in his toe; it was much smaller, and less discolored. It continued to bleed slowly for the rest of the evening – even more after he took a long, hot bath. He kept dabbing at the blood and leaving bloody paper towels all over the place, and then finally just wrapped a paper towel around his toe, and that seemed to work well enough. It stopped bleeding at some point last night. So, here’s the part of the story from yesterday’s entry that I didn’t share with y’all: Fred actually did try to heat up a paper clip and melt a hole in his toenail. I made him get out of my line of sight to do it, because the thought of watching him do it and seeing a big line of blood shoot across the room made me feel ooky. I was sitting on the couch and he was behind me at the kitchen table and I crouched low on the couch and put my hands over my ears. “WHY do you have your hands over your ears?” he asked. “So that when you scream your high-pitched girly scream, it won’t shatter my eardrums.” When I had relaxed a little and taken my hands away from my ears – because we were, after all, watching 24 – he made a hissing sound, as if perhaps he’d punched that hole just a little too vigorously. “Ahhhh!” I yelled, and flailed around the couch with my hands over my ears, because I didn’t want to hear the high-pitched girly scream I just knew was coming. Instead, he laughed. Because he’d been FAKING. Fucker. He never was able to make a hole in his toenail; we figure it’s because he just couldn’t get the paper clip hot enough. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Speaking of ooky feelings, from my comments, from Kay: Ooooh I must share my story..well it is my sister’s but it is true..straight from the goopy toe diaries. She let a toe go like that for, say, 7 months and when she finally went to a doctor, it had gotten so bad they did surgery then and there and it had ATE THROUGH THE BONE (the infection that is) and they took half of her big toe bone off and scraped and scraped and.. Fred..are you listening??? If THAT doesn’t make you want to scream and run around in circles, I don’t know what will! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ More from my comments: I know you like to change the logo on your page periodically; I just want to say that I will really miss the one you have there now. It makes me giggle out loud every time I read your page. I had actually decided last night that I’m going to use it again in June, so you’ll be seeing it again! Hey girl! I finally saw the Penn & Teller special. You guys looked great. You certainly came across as the rational, sensible people amidst the diet fakers and scammers. Do you mind re-posting the entry about the special? Or writing about it again? You can read about it starting here, and then click on the “forth” link at the bottom of the page to read the rest. Hi, Robyn. This is totally off topic from today’s discussions, but what happened to the OneFatBitchypoo site? The link is no longer working. It was down for a little while because Diaryland switched servers or something, and since I hadn’t done an entry in two months (two months as of today!) I had no idea. It’s back up and running here, and the archives through the end of 2002 are here. I need to get the rest of the archives up so that I can move everything from diaryland over to OneFatBitchypoo and start posting regular entries there; hopefully that’ll happen this month. I’ll probably have an OFB entry up in the next week or so. Not that I have anything to report, just a “state of me” kind of entry. Has Meester Boogers been neutered? Yes, he was actually neutered before we adopted him. The shelter we adopted him from (the one I volunteer for) won’t adopt out cats until they’ve been neutered. I think that’s a pretty good policy, and hopefully it’ll help cut down on all the unwanted kittens! oh my god, my cat has that same pink mouse… I’d recognize that thing anywhere! It’s his FAVORITE toy. Gotta love the company that makes those things. But, I must say, when I have to retreive it from under the couch… there have been times I’ve been afraid it’s a real mouse… eeek! (Regarding the pink mouse in this picture and this one) A few months ago Fred was looking for Spot, and he got down on the floor and looked under the bed. “Oh my god!” he said. “There’s a dead mole under here!” “Are you kidding me?” I said. “Where?” I got down on my hands and knees and looked, too. I looked and looked, but didn’t see any dead mole. “Hold on,” Fred, who was wrestling Spot down to give him some medicine. “It was over toward the side you’re on.” “Where? I don’t see it. Maybe it wasn’t dead, and it’s running around!” I said, nearly levitating at the thought. “Right THERE,” Fred said, pointing toward me. “Baby,” I said. “That’s a TOY MOUSE, not a MOLE.” “Oh.” It was the same mouse as the one in those pictures, only it was a gray one. Our cats LOVE those mice, and every year at Christmas I send a few to my sister’s cat, who immediately chews the ears (or is it the arms and legs, Deb?) off. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Amy’s back! Yay! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Mo posted a link to this page in yesterday’s comments. How funny is it that not only is she a dead ringer for Mister Boogers, but her name is Bean? New readers might not know this, but for a while I was calling Mister Boogers “The Bean”. I think one of you should go adopt that kitty right now! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Mister Boogers absolutely adores being carried around like this. In fact, I’m sure he’d let Fred carry him around like this all day long if Fred was willing. (Fred is wearing the t-shirt the spud bought him in California last summer). ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~]]>

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ What the hell is “California cuisine”? They’ve been building a restaurant around the corner from us, and we had heard that it was going to be an Olive Garden, which had us both pretty excited because we like Olive Garden, but not enough to drive alllll the way into Huntsville to eat there. It’s nearing completion and I drove by it yesterday to find out that it’s not going to be an Olive Garden at ALL, but that it’s going to be a Silver Point Restaurant, and under the name of the restaurant it says “California cuisine.” I don’t know what “California cuisine” is, but I suspect (no offense, Californians) that it involves a plate fancily decorated with some kind of sauce, a lettuce leaf atop the sauce, and a single shrimp atop the lettuce leaf. And that they’ll charge $88 for it. There’s no information online at all about any Silver Point Restaurant, so I guess it’s not a chain. I imagine that “California cuisine” might be a bit more froufy than the area calls for. Yes, we live in a very yuppie city, but judging by the line I see by the barbeque place, a line that goes across the parking lot and usually down the highway a little, tastes ’round here run more to good ol’ southern food than California cuisine. I could be wrong, though. It could turn out to be a smashing success, especially since I really don’t know what California cuisine IS. I have a suspicion that the restaurant will go out of business in a year or less. And then maybe Olive Garden will buy the building and set up shop!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Fred’s toe (read about it here, if you don’t know what’s going on with it) has gotten even more swollen than it was. If you look at his toe from the end, you can see the toenail lifting up. “We should pop my toe like a zit, to relieve the pressure!” he started saying last night. And, “I should melt a hole in my toenail to relieve the pressure!” And “Damn my toe hurts. I’m going to drill a hole in my toenail!” Every time he said something about his toe, I had to flail around and curl my toes and be grossed out, because the thought of popping it like a zit? YUCK. The thought of him trying to melt a hole in the toenail and pushing a little too hard and putting a hole in his toe? UGH. The thought of him trying to drill a hole through his toenail and pushing a little too hard and drilling THROUGH his toe? UGH and YUCK. He didn’t do anything to relieve the pressure, but just hearing him talk about it freaked me OUT. Ugh. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “I love to annoy my mother by rubbingrubbingrubbing my nose on her hand until she runs screaming into the night. Good thing I’m so cute, right? Uh…. right? Oh, shut up. My mommy loves me anyway.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~]]>

Amy. 1.) WHAT’S THE TOTAL AMOUNT OF MUSIC FILES ON YOUR COMPUTER? 1.55 GB in my “My Music” folder. Is that a lot? 2.)WHAT WAS THE LAST CD YOU BOUGHT? Kenny Chesney, When the Sun Goes Down. 3.) WHAT WAS THE LAST SONG LISTENED TO BEFORE GETTING THIS MESSAGE? Fall to Pieces, by Velvet Revolver. 4.) WRITE DOWN FIVE SONGS YOU OFTEN LISTEN TO OR THAT MEAN A LOT TO YOU. 1. Beloved Wife – Natalie Merchant. 2. Angry All the Time – Tim McGraw 3. Breakaway – Kelly Clarkson 4. Black – Pearl Jam 5. El Cerrito Place – Charlie Robison 5.) WHO ARE YOU GONNA PASS THIS STICK TO (THREE PERSONS) AND WHY? 1. Nance 2. Mo 3. Everyone! ‘Cause I’ll be interested to see their answers, of course, that’s why! Amy was curious as to whether I spend as much money on music as I do on books. I don’t, really, because I tend to download the songs I like online (LEGALLY, at iTunes, usually) rather than spend the money to buy an entire album full of songs that I might not like. I spend, at the most, five dollars a month on music, though that varies. I spent about fifteen dollars of my birthday money on iTunes downloads. (Thus the reason I was sitting here listening to I Fall to Pieces by Velvet Revolver!)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ From muh comments: Robyn, do you or anyone else know about the cat net like tunnels that one poster mentioned?? (in this comment: How about one of those netlike cat tunnels for outdoors? I’ve seen those, and they are not too expensive. You could attach it temporarily to the cat-door, so the cats could go outside, lie in the sun, whatever…and then come back indoors. Then you could detach the netting till the next day.) I have two cats and one of them is always trying to escape… I’d love to have one of those thingies if its like I imagine it to be…. I don’t know where to find them, but I know I saw them somewhere… once upon a time. But I don’t remember when or where I saw ’em. I glanced at the usual pet store pages but didn’t see anything. Can anyone help out, here? Hook a sister up! Edited to add: Nevermind! Grace posted a comment that answered the question. FYI – the cat fence is at catfence.com. Tunnels (portable outdoor enclosures) are at drsfostersmith.com although you may be able to find them cheaper with a search. When I lived in Huntsville the Neighborhood Nazis didn’t so much care if changes to your house (fence, paint, etc.) couldn’t be seen from the street. In Houston they do care vary much – so anyone who’s wanting to do the fence thing should probably check with their POA. (Thanks, Grace!) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Oh, and thanks for the suggestions on what to do about That Damn Booger-Bean. I quite like the idea of tying him out on a long leash, but only because imagining him getting all caught up in his leash and leaping about like a little Beanie Frog makes me giggle. We had thought about putting a really tall fence right around where the cat door comes out – like the fences you see dog runs made out of? – but Fred would have to mow around it, and he wasn’t looking forward to that. We do think we’ve come up with a good solution, but we’ll have to see if it works. I’ll tell y’all more about that idea once it’s up and running, assuming that it works. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Thanks, also, for all the beef stew recipes, y’all! I got a ton of them. I made one this weekend, a recipe I got from reader Renate that was easy as hell and damn yummy, too. Fred wasn’t looking forward to the beef stew at ALL (because he’s a bastard), but he liked it a lot (even more once he’d added a great big dash of tabasco – I swear, the man would eat a turd as long as you put a bunch of tabasco on top of it!). Next time I make it, though, I think I’m going to cut the veggies a little bigger and cook it a little longer, just because the carrots I sliced up were so skinny that I had a hard time getting the carrot pieces on my spoon. And I love me some cooked carrots, yes indeedy. The meat was perfectly tender, though. Stew was a perfect meal to have yesterday, since it was cold and rainy and icky out. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Speaking of carrots (like I did in the previous paragraph), here’s a carrot story for you. When I was in (I think) fourth grade, we were allowed to bring a snack to school to eat in class mid-morning. It had to be a healthy snack, though – no cookies or Twinkies or anything. (BASTARDS. Ha. Like my mother would have let me take a cookie to school for a snack, anyway. Sh’yeah!) I always took carrots, because I have always loved the hell out of carrots. So one day at snack time I turned to my friend, whose name I cannot recall. She had brought a tomato for her snack (yes, a tomato. I don’t know, don’t ask me.) and she was about to bite into it like it was an apple until I said “Hey! That looks like a BUTT!”, because it was creased just so, so that it looked, well, like two butt cheeks. She was so grossed out by the thought that she couldn’t eat her tomato and went and threw it away. She got me back, though. After she’d tossed her tomato, she said “Oh yeah? Well, that carrot looks like A BOY’S THINGY!” I couldn’t eat carrots for a good two years after that. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Hey, can you eat raw kale? I mean, is it okay to, or will it make me spend all night in the bathroom afterward? I had Fred get some kale when he got groceries on Saturday. I found a simple recipe on how to cook kale, but there’s so much of it that I thought I might like to toss some in my salad to add a little extra flavor. Thoughts, opinions, suggestions? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Check out this smiley that Georgina made for me, based on the picture I put up last week: For comparison purposes: Well done, Georgina! (She made it here. Go make your own!) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I bet when we’re not around, they actually SNUGGLE. ]]>

Georgina thought I looked like Sandy the squirrel from Spongebob Squarepants in my picture yesterday. I can see the resemblance. Fred, however, thinks I look like someone else entirely…

I’m sad to say, I agree. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Hey, look what was waiting for me at the post office this morning! It was created by the owner of this cool site, and you can order your very own! Man, I’m totally going to order some of those for Christmas next year. Also, Valentine’s Day is coming up. Hmm…. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Speaking of Hawaii, did I mention that my parents are going to Hawaii again? My father leaves at the beginning of February, and my mother’s going over two weeks after that. They’ll be there about three months. I’m not going this time – the flight would kill me. I can’t take another 12 hours in a plane! – but seeing pictures like this sure does make it tempting! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Yesterday marked one year since Tubby died. It seems like it’s been longer, but it also seems like it just happened. We sure do miss that cat. For a little while we thought we were going to mark the occasion by losing another cat – Mister Boogers, to be exact. Mister Boogers recently figured out that he could jump the fence. We found this out a couple of weeks ago as we were sitting in the computer room, turned around so we were facing each other. Fred had offered me a bite of his Ben & Jerry’s (it being a Friday and all) and I had just put a spoon full of Vanilla Heath Bar Crunch in my mouth when I glanced out the window and saw Mister Boogers casually slinking through the front flower bed. All the color drained out of my face, I’m sure, and my jaw dropped, and I shoved the pint of ice cream back at Fred and went flying out the front door. Fred followed as I chased Mister Boogers across the front of the house and told me to go back in the house. Mister Boogers ducked under my Jeep, and then rubbed his head on the muffler when Fred spoke to him, and eventually came out to be picked up, scolded, and carried back into the house. We spent the rest of the afternoon (well Fred did, anyway) looking up ideas on how to keep cats in the yard when they’ve figured out how to jump the fence. He finally came across this cat fencing stuff that is, basically, just netting that goes across the top of the fence, with brackets every so often to hold the netting out. The cat jumps up and gets repelled by the netting, and voila! Can’t get out of the yard. So instead of paying way too much for the “official” cat fence, Fred went to Lowe’s and bought netting, some brackets, and a staple gun. He put it across the top of the fence going from our house to the neighbor’s part of the fence, and then along the side fence that separates our yard from the neighbor’s. Since the side fence actually belongs to the neighbors, he didn’t put any brackets up, because he needed to make sure it was okay with them. We let Mister Boogers (and the other cats) out a few times and everything seemed to be okay, until one afternoon this week when I stepped out into the back yard to check on Mister Boogers, and when I glanced over toward the fence between our yard and the neighbor’s yard, Mister Boogers was sitting atop the fence. When he saw me, he jumped down and ran into the house, because he KNEW he wasn’t supposed to be doing that. We kept the cat door closed for a few days, and then one day Fred opened the cat door and watched to see what Mister Boogers would do, and then he discovered how Mister Boogers was going through a gap in the fence between our yard and the neighbor’s yard, a gap we’d thought was too small for any of the cats to fit through. So Fred stapled some netting along the gap, and a few days later Mister Boogers managed to get into the neighbor’s back yard again, and Fred decided he hadn’t covered the gap enough, so he stapled some more netting over the gap. Which brings us to yesterday evening, when Fred went to the doc-in-a-box to see about his toe. As soon as Fred left, I heard the cat door swinging as Mister Boogers went outside, but I didn’t think anything about it. I ate dinner and goofed around online, and when it had been about 45 minutes, I went out back to check on him. And the fucker was nowhere to be seen. I took the flashlight out with me, and a toy, and I shook the toy (which makes a rattling sound) and I called and called and called for the Booger, but nothing. Nada. Zilch. I called the spud downstairs and told her to occasionally go out into the back yard to call for him, because I was going to drive around to the back of the fence (you have to drive out of the neighborhood to get to the back of our fence) and see if I could spot him. I got to the end of the street and saw some glittering eyes going across someone’s front yard and I thought for a moment “How the FUCK did he get all the way down here?” before I realized that it was a cat with a tail rather than a stump, so couldn’t be our Booger. I drove around the neighborhood and down the road that runs along our back fence, and didn’t see a thing. When I got home, Fred was home, out in the back yard calling for the Booger. Nada. Fred walked around the front of the house and called for him, and I walked around the back yard and called, and still nothing. We finally decided to drive around to the back of the fence and park and walk along the road to the culvert a few houses down, and call for him. We spent about ten minutes calling for him, and I had just gotten back into the car while Fred looked a little more, when my cell phone rang and the spud was calling to tell me that the Booger had come home. As soon as we got home, we shut the cat door, which pissed off Mister Boogers, who spent the evening howling and jumping on the other cats, and smacking at the blinds on the door to the back yard. At this point we’re trying to figure out what exactly we want to do, but I feel bad that none of the cats can go outside just because Mister Boogers is a fuckhead. If nothing else, having Fancypants run away was a good lesson for us. We thought he’d be okay, because he could take care of himself. With Mister Boogers, we know better. I’d rather have him in the house and miserable than let him out and have him go missing. Besides, he has such a tiny brain that I bet after about three days he’ll forget he was ever allowed out into the back yard at all. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “Lemme out! Lemme out! I want OUT!” ]]>

Taking It All Off is back and posting! Yay! (Thank you to reader Michelle, who let me know.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I had to be out of the house by 7 this morning to make my 7:10 appointment at the dentist to do the “bite registry” I mentioned yesterday. This entailed sitting in the dentist chair while the woman in charge (I have no idea what her job title is) used what looked exactly like a caulking gun to put what looked like pink caulk along the bottoms of my top teeth, then I had to bite down and wait three or four minutes for the pink stuff to harden. I did that once without the front tooth guard, and once with. Then I was done and on my way, and she said they’d call when the nightguard was ready, which will be about a week and a half. Yes, I look like a dork. Also, a pinhead. (In my defense, I was staring at the camera right before the flash went off, and I thought “Oh, I shouldn’t stare directly at the camera, I should be looking off to the side!”, and as I moved my gaze the picture took. Also, I’m aware that I am in desperate need of an eyebrow waxing. But it’s a really bad angle to begin with, so there’s no way I was going to come out of this picture looking like anything with a dorkwad. Also, I’m blotchy. And yet, I’m HOT and SEXY and you know you want me!) When Fred got home from work yesterday we were laying on the bed talking and he was laughing at how having that piece of plastic over my front teeth made me lisp. “What is it supposed to do?” he asked, although I’d already told him. “Relax my jaw so that they can get a good bite registry,” I said. “Does your jaw feel relaxed?” he asked. “Not particularly. Besides, I sit around with my mouth hanging open all the time; it’s not like my jaw was particularly tense to begin with.” “What are you, one of those mouth breathers?” “Yeah, just call me Cory Haim.” “Say ‘sufferin’ succotash‘,” he said. “NO.” “Please?” “NO.” “Awww Bessie, come on, just say it once!” he begged. “NO. Shut UP. I’m not going to say it!” Finally he gave up, but this morning on my way to the dentist’s office, I relented. I called him at work and when he answered I said “Sufferin’ succotash. Happy?” But he wasn’t, because he claimed I didn’t sound as lispy over the phone. Sucks to be him, I guess. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “I feel crabby, oh so crabby, I feel crabby and bitchy and wild!” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~]]>

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I went to the dentist today to begin the process of getting a nightguard. I thought all they had to do was take an impression of my teeth, and I’d be all set, but nay. Apparently this is a long process that involves several (if three is “several”) trips to the dentist, and today’s trip was to get this odd little bite guard that fits over my two front teeth. This will relax my jaw somehow (I didn’t ask for details about how exactly that happens) so that when I go in tomorrow for my “bite registry”, they’ll get the best bite registry possible. Whatever a bite registry is. I have no clue. A normal person might have been all “What’s a bite registry, exactly?”, but I just don’t care. 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. Anyway, I have this little white plastic thing that fits over my two front (upper) teeth, and I look like a freakin’ rabbit. I’d provide a picture for y’all, but I did a half-assed job when I blow-dried my hair this morning and I look high as a kite in the pictures I took, so no pictures for you! I have to wear the little white plastic thing for the rest of the day (except when I’m eating) and tonight, and go back to the dentist at 7:10 tomorrow morning for the bite registry. Then I guess it’ll be a few days or a week or whatever before I get the actual nightguard. Exciting stuff, no?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I took some pictures while I was in Maine that I’ve been meaning to share with y’all, but forgot to until now. So, here you go! My parents’ Christmas tree, taken using the night vision setting on the camera. It’s just impossible to take a decent picture of a Christmas tree when it’s all lit up, y’know? My sister’s cat Tigger. Isn’t he adorable? Tigger again. He cracks me up, that cat. We were in Freeport one morning, and I saw this car. I said “Oh, an Echo! That’s what I want, only in yellow!”, and went over to check out the bumper stickers. I suspect this car is owned by a woman. Check out the full-size version, here. We didn’t actually eat at Chowder Express (we ate at The Corsican, just down the street from it), but we did check out the menu, and it looked mighty damn good. We saw this bowl at a small store in Bath. Debbie looked at it and loved it, but it was too expensive. I took a picture of the bowl and the box underneath with the company’s name on it, thinking I’d look them up and see if I could find the bowl cheaper online. I found the company site, but the bowl is $18. That’s a damn expensive bowl, I don’t care how cute it is! (Oh man, check out these salt and pepper shakers. I might have to ask for those for Christmas or something!) I’ve never eaten here, but the name cracks me up. My parents have THE most adorable dog. I saw this notebook in the Hallmark store. I didn’t buy it, but I had to snap a picture of it. If you can’t read it, it says “ladies and gentlemen.. we’d like to welcome you to alabama. please set your watches back six years.” Heh. MikWright stuff was all over the place in the gift shops. Heh. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ For dinner tonight: pizza pork hoagies. Yum! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “WE are sitting in front of a warm fire, and YOU are not! Nyah!” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~]]>

here. And the pictures from a few weeks ago (which I forgot to tell y’all about) are here.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ So I watched Lovely & Amazing while I was exercising a few weeks ago, and when I’d finished watching it, I told Fred about it. “Yeah, that guy who was in the movie with Jennifer Aniston, who was married and she had an affair with him…” “Jake Gyllenhaal*,” Fred provided. “Right. He’s in Lovely & Amazing, and he’s a kid who has an affair with a married woman in that movie, too!” “Huh. He’s typecast!” “I know. He had an affair with Catherine Keener in Lovely & Amazing. I don’t usually like her, but I liked her in that movie.” “Catherine Keener. Why does that sound familiar?” Fred asked. “Oh, she was in Malkovich,” I said. “I didn’t see that movie,” he reminded me. “Oh, right. She was also in Living in Oblivion.” “I didn’t see that either,” he said. “Right. If These Walls Could Talk? Boys?” “Nope.” “Oh, I know,” I said. “I always point her out to you because she’s married to Dylan McDermott.” “Oh.” Long pause. “Not Dermot Mulroney?” he teased. “Oh shit, I think I meant Dermot Mulroney,” I admitted. “Dylan McDermott was Bobby**, right?” “Right.” “Okay, she’s married to Dermot Mulroney.” Am I the only one who mixes those two up all the freakin’ time? It’s got to be the fact that they both have “dermot” in their names. *I totally typed “Gyllenhaal” without having to look it up, because I am JUST THAT GOOD. **On The Practice. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I was teasing Fred this morning about a woman that he loathes. (No, not YOU.) Yeah, yeah, you hate her guts, I emailed to him. And yet, I suspect that when I die tragically young, you’ll end up with her. He emailed me back immediately. You’re already too old to die tragically young. Bastard. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Someone asked in my comments whether I enjoyed Year of Wonders, which I finished reading a few days ago. I did, I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected to. It seems that the books I’m not looking forward to reading all that much tend to really surprise me. Last night I started The Next Accident, by Lisa Gardner. I actually made a mistake in that I read The Killing Hour last week, which she wrote after The Next Accident, and has some of the same characters, so I know some of what’s going to happen in this book. It’s still really good, though. I think I need to just go ahead and put all the books she’s written on my wish list so I remember that I want to read more of her stuff. Also, Hostage by Robert Crais was really good, too. It had me on the edge of my seat the entire time I was reading it. Which is funny, because I wasn’t looking forward to reading it at ALL. Because Fred read it, and kept exclaiming that it was the best book he’d read in a long time, and it made me not really want to read it, because what if I hated it? Then he’d be all disappointed because you know how it is – if you like a song or book, you want everyone else to like it too. But I loved it, and he was right. That so rarely happens that it deserves a mention in here. (Heh!) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “How YOU doin’?” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~]]>

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Dear Amazon: You know, one would think that the idea behind having a wish list – aside from making a list of stuff I want, of course – is so that when people like, say, my parents or my husband or my friend Liz are looking at the wish list and want to buy me something from it for my birthday, I won’t receive the same thing from more than one person. And yet, for Christmas I received the exact same book from my parents and from my mother- and father-in-law. I sent back one copy of the book along with a tersely worded note letting you know that I was NOT going to be ignored, Dan charged for shipping, because this is a fuckup on Amazon’s part. (I didn’t actually say “fuckup” in the note, but I’m sure you could tell I was thinking it.) Like a whipped dog, y’all sent me an email telling me that I’d been issued a gift certificate in the amount of $14.19, and look! You didn’t even charge me for the cost of having the book shipped from me to you! And then, Amazon. And then you made me sad and made me shake my head and made me take your name in vain for perhaps the six millionth time since I “discovered” you. Because for my birthday I got the same fucking book from my husband and my friend Liz. So I’ve got to ask just what those kids in charge of the wish list software are DOING, ’cause Amazon? Someone’s asleep at the wheel, and I am getting MIGHTY FUCKING TIRED of having to package up books and send them back to you with tersely worded notes. Knock it off, Amazon. You’re pissing me off, and you won’t LIKE me when I’m pissed off. I guarantee it, fuckers. Love ya, mean it! Robyn

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Dear Vinny T’s: Your food is a-maz-ING. The Fettucine Carbonara? Heaven. The bread, served with warm olive oil? Ambrosia. The desserts? Orgasmic. But sirs, I’ve gotta tell you. That chick who was my waitress on Sunday, January 2nd was absolutely devoid of any trace of personality. And in a restaurant where the wait staff can be counted on to be extremely personable, that’s a bad, bad thing. Still love you, though, Robyn ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Dear JR Maxwell’s: I am down on bended knee to ask you to marry me. Because the lobster melt on the yummy croissant is the best thing I’ve ever had in my entire life. And the chocolate peanut butter pie ain’t half bad, either. Hugs and kisses, The future Mrs. JR Maxwell’s. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Dear Ben Stiller: Please stop making those stupid freakin’ Focker movies. They suck ass. You were great in Something About Mary, though. Mwah! Robyn ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Dear Philosophy: I love, love, love the holy hell out of your shampoo/ bath/ shower gel. You have awesome fragrances, and I’m particularly partial to the lemon meringue and strawberry milkshake. My only complaint is that all your shampoo/bath/shower gels come in huge 16-ounce sizes, and since I’m the kind of person who tires quickly of one scent, I’d love it if I could buy the 8-ounce bottles individually, instead of having to buy the set. Because I usually like one or two of the scents in the set, but not all of them. And I have a real problem buying a $30 set when I’m not going to use all the scents in the set. I also have a real problem shelling out $16 for a 16-ounce bottle of the stuff, when I know I’m going to get tired of whatever the scent is before I’ve used it up. Hmm. What I really ought to do is buy smaller bottles and sell them on eBay. I’ll have to think about that… Anyway, you’re awesome. You make me smell good, and I can’t complain about that! XO, Robyn PS: I bought a bottle of Amazing Grace cologne, and can’t stop sniffing myself. Then I bought a bottle of Falling in Love cologne, and it’s really not my thing. Too flowery, I think. You still rock, though. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Dear Hallmark: Why must you tease and tempt me with your adorable knicknacks when I just don’t have the space for them? Whyyyyyy? Smooches, Robyn ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Dear Brad and Jennifer: Why? Whyyyyyyyyyy? Why, Brad? Why, Jen? Whyyyyyyyyyyy? Why can’t you crazy kids just work it out? You’ve broken my heart. I swear, if you’ve been messing around with Angelina Jolie, Brad… well, I hope you taped it, that’s all. Brad+Jen 4-ever&ever, Robyn ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Dear Coca Cola Company: Just as a warning, should you ever change your Diet Coke formula or stop carrying Diet Coke altogether, there will be a hue and cry the likes of which you’ve never seen. Well, you might have seen it back when you switched the regular Coke formula from “classic” Coke to “new” Coke, and people lost their shit and were buying up all the “classic” coke they could and stockpiling it in the basement to drink sparingly for the rest of their days because you guys fucked up so very badly. Not that I think you’ll mess with the Diet Coke formula or anything. But just in case, keep in mind that I have my eye on you and if you mess with my beloved Diet Coke, I will not rest until the people responsible for the decision are howling in agony for all the days of their lives. Love ya! Robyn ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Dear Publix: When the hell are you going to put the two-liter bottles of Diet Coke on sale for 99 cents again? We stocked up the last time you had them on sale, had so many bottles in the garage we could barely get around then and get through the garage, but now we’re down to three bottles. THREE. That ain’t right, and it chaps my ass to pay $1.09 when I know if I wait long enough, I can get ’em for 99 cents each. Put them on sale. Chop-chop! (You’re still the best grocery store around, and that’s no lie!) Robyn ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The sword of Stumpocles. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Previously 2004: No entry. 2003: I swear, I have no control over my body sometimes. 2002: The shithole on Goddard Street. 2001: Lucky for her I’ve calmed down to a growling grumpiness, or it wouldn’t be a very good time to be the spud. 2000: We’re a pathetic lot, aren’t we?]]>