Category: Life

* * * I understand that Reagan was believed by many to be a great president, and many many people are saddened by his passing, but… WAS IT REALLY FUCKING NECESSARY TO CLOSE THE POST OFFICE ALL DAY TODAY? I mean, the mail is something that I really REALLY look forward, probably a LITTLE too much. But I won’t be receiving this week’s People Magazine today, will I? Why, no. Because the postal workers have the day off, mourning the death of Ronald Reagan. SH’YEAH. They’re probably having cookouts and drinking beer, AND GETTING PAID FOR IT. No fair, man. NO FAIR.

* * * People are so stupid. Newsflash there, right? I stopped at Burger King this afternoon because I wanted to try one of their Garden Shrimp salads (is it sad and wrong that I could have had anything at all for lunch – I don’t count calories on Friday – and all I wanted was a salad and sushi?). Now, for some reason at lunchtime (and possibly dinnertime, though I don’t know for sure) instead of the usual having you pull up to the speaker, placing your order, and then pulling up to the window to pay, they put a sign on the speaker that says “Pull forward to order taker.” You pull forward where a person is standing to take your order. They use their headset to relay your order to someone inside, who gives them the total. They write your total down on a piece of paper and hand it to you, you drive four feet to the next person who’s standing there, give them the paper and your money, and they make change. And then FINALLY you pull up to the window and wait and wait and wait for your food. Convoluted and fucked-up, right? Well, it gets even more fucked-up when you add a dumbass to the mix who pulls up to the speaker and just sits there. Like the person in front of me did, pulled up there and just sat and sat and sat. At first I thought he was staring at the menu to figure out what he wanted, but after a minute or so he started looking around, and then staring at the speaker (the speaker WITH THE SIGN TELLING YOU TO PULL FORWARD) and waited. When it had been two or three minutes, I finally said “Oh, fuck THIS!” and put the car in reverse, backed up a little and went to pull around him. Which is when HE said “Oh, fuck THIS!”, and decided to pull forward to see what the hell was going on. Which made it impossible to get in front of him or behind him, and I had to pull around the building to the end of the drive-thru line, which had grown by about four vehicles. And the person next in line at the drive-up, who had been behind me? Pulled up to the speaker… and sat there. Like I said, people are idiots. Me included, because the Garden Shrimp salad was not all that fabulous. In fact, I’d say that I don’t care for the sauce the shrimp was grilled in, because I’m burping it up. Bleh. And they didn’t have the kind of sushi I like (California Roll), and I got a different kind (the name escapes me), and I didn’t really care for it. Wah! * * * Because I just got rid of a bunch of magnets and there was white space on my refrigerator, I had to buy a couple more… I particularly like the second one. You can get your own (this place has the BEST selection of magnets EVER) at Sticker Giant. * * * Pet store kitty pics from Monday are here. * * * The Bean, he is a yawn-y Bean. And I’ve found that the trick to getting pictures of him yawning is to find him sleeping and wake him up. He’ll yawn ’til the cows come home! (This is at the tail end of a yawn. It absolutely cracks me up. I think it’s my new favorite. You can view the full-size version here.) ]]>

* * * Okay, I’m printing this email from Kelly in it’s entirety, because I’m just not sure exactly what it means, but I’m pretty sure there are interested parties out there. Heh. You have two feeds at livejournal.com (essentially allowing LJ users to get updates of your site via their “friends page”) They are the xml feed and the rtf feed Both links go to the feed info pages. Clicking on the link next to “user” will take you to the main feed page. They are both essentially the same, as of now. If you ever change your settings, for say the XML to show full entries and not just a lead in, then LJ users would have the option to pick full entry vs. one line lead ins. I don’t use Movable Type so I am not sure how those settings are tweaked. (Maybe Fred knows?) Don’t worry about bandwidth, LJ grabs the feed once (the rtf and xml files are very small) and stores it for a short amount of time (I think a week? Not sure) So it wont ding you every time someone reloads their “friends” page on LJ. I just added them because I can read my friends page from my cell phone and it’s easier to check that than email notifications (and I’m a big dork). – Kelly PS: If you want to link it to allow others to easily add it to their LJ friends page, you can use these links: http://www.livejournal.com/friends/add.bml?user=bitchypoodotcom http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=bitchypoo_com Or you can use this HTML: bitchypoodotcom Either one, it will add the feed to their list 🙂 I have only the vaguest idea of what all that means, but thank you, Pinky! 🙂 Hmmm. Should I add something in the sidebar for people?

* * * From my comments: i love your site and i’m always reading, but i stopped looking at the pet store kitties some time ago because it made me sad and i want to adopt all of the kitties. i wonder, is the pet store you work at no-kill and/or what happens to the kitties who aren’t adopted? The shelter I volunteer for (who provides the cats to the pet store) is a no-kill shelter. If the cats don’t get adopted after a few weeks at the pet store, they go back to the shelter. The shelter is a house converted into several big rooms (and some smaller ones) where cats have many places to lay and sleep, or hide, or chase other cats around. The lady who runs the shelter actually lives there and takes care of the cats. When we went to the shelter (and eventually adopted Stanley the Booger Bean), there were cats there that have been there for years. If they’re never adopted, they’ll stay at the shelter and be cared for with love for the rest of their lives. I don’t know that I could ever volunteer for a shelter where cats are put to sleep after a certain amount of time – it would just be too hard. Oh Robyn, I think I’ve been reading your site for too long. Last night I dreamt that you and Fred took my son with you to Gatlinburg, and I was very worried about him being on such a small plane. Not worried about him going on vacation with people I don’t know, no, worried about a plane. He had fun though, because you let him play Gameboy the entire flight. Um, okay. Clearly, I have lost my mind. But of COURSE we’d let him play with his Gameboy for the entire flight! It would take his mind off all those 100-foot drops when we go through the clouds. I just really need to know if TEX the pilot needs a girlfriend…I just soloed in a Cessna 172 and need me one of them there cowboy co-pilots. YEEEE HAW. Tex is a married man. A friend of mine found a brazilian wandering spider on a banana one time. She worked for a pet store so she actually kept it in a terrarium in her house. After she showed me THAT thing, I didn’t eat bananas for years. Everyone, check your bananas carefully before bringing them home… This reminds me – back last Fall when I was planting daffodil and lily bulbs and found a black widow, I was Googling around to see whether spiders breathe oxygen (shut up. It’s a valid question!), and I found a site where people were talking about their black widows THAT THEY KEPT AS PETS. Ugh. Ick. Bleh! beeeeeeeeeeechiesssss My sister posted that one. When I was little, I called bugs “Beechies” for some unknown reason, and I was scared to DEATH of anything remotely buglike. My mother tells the story of when I was three or four and we were stationed in Indiana. I ran out the door into the front yard, and a swarm of locusts flew up, and I levitated in the air and ran back through the door shrieking “Beechies! Beechies!” the entire way. Mom usually express mails me fiddleheads in the spring. She and Dad brave the black flies for a batch or two. I’ve never had canned. Any good? You know, I’ve only ever had fiddleheads once in my life, and I think they were fresh. I don’t know about the canned ones – don’t canned vegetables tend to be a wee bit slimier than fresh or frozen? It’d probably be worth a try, though! The Evanescence song is DEFINITELY “My Immortal,” I play it every morning in my car on the way to work. (You can tell I REALLY love my job eh?) I betcha you love the line, “And I realized I’ve been ALONEEEEEEEEE all ALONGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!” At least that’s the one that makes me sob out loud! Heh. Yes, it’s “My Immortal”. And that IS my favorite part! The funny thing is that after I asked in my entry if anyone knew the name, I realized that I’d given the CD to the spud for Christmas, and it was sitting upstairs in her room! Furniture spray? I once threw cheese at a spider, for lack of any other means of defending myself. Oh, and I was crouching on the kitchen table at the time. Hence the cheese. But the important question is… was it on a salad? Because spiders LIKE cheese, just NOT on a salad. (Hee! I slay me!) I think you’d look good in a bathing suit! Don’t be ashamed! Are you going to sport one in Hawaii?! Come on!! ;o) and I have to agree with Heather! Oh, HELL no! If y’all want to put on a bathing suit and prance around in front of my mother, you just feel free to do so. I, on the other hand, will be sporting a pair of badass board shorts and a t-shirt. I may end up with a farmer tan, but I’ll be way more comfortable than I would in a bathing suit. I’ll leave the looking-cute-in-a-bathing-suit up to the spud and her cousin. I agree with you on the Boy t-shirt thing, but I have to wonder…Miz Poo may think boys are fine, but what about dogs? 😉 Miz Poo has no opinion on dogs. As long as they, too, worship her she’ll let them live. If they try to give her attitude or get in her fact, though, she’ll be forced to turn into kung-fu kitty. And no one wants THAT. * * * The Beaniest Bean who ever Beaned. ]]>

Pretty, no? Catfish. ::shudder:: I’m supposed to compare Fred to Jay Leno or Quentin Tarantino (that was the deal when I asked if I could put the picture in my entry), but I think he looks adorable. Fred’s got more pictures up in his entry today, if you’re interested.

* * * M0vie G@llery has pissed me off for the last friggin’ time. I think I mentioned that we’ve been watching the first season of 24, which we’ve been renting from the movie store. We’d watched all but the last DVD and for the last two weeks have had no luck at all renting it. Every time we check the store – and we’ve been checking multiple times a day – it’s been out. I’ve checked every friggin’ movie store in the area with no luck. Yesterday I went in and there were no 24 cases at all in the TV Shows on DVD section. I fumed for a few moments, and then walked down the aisle to grab a copy of Mystic River. There were maybe ten Mystic River cases, but no DVDs. I fumed some more, grabbed Along Came Polly and The Company, and went to check out. “Do you not carry 24 anymore?” I asked the employee as she scanned my card. She glanced over at the TV Shows on DVD section. “There aren’t any cases over there,” I added. “Frank!” she yelled to the other employee. “Do we still have 24?” “Yeah, we’re moving them to the floor,” Frank yelled back. “They’re…” he shrugged. “In transit.” She shrugged at me. “We’re moving them.” UGH. God, this pisses me OFF. I called Fred and bitched at him for a few minutes, then went off to do the rest of my errands. H0llyw00d Video had Mystic River on DVD (which I rented), but no TV shows. Ugh. Which is when I came home and ordered Seasons 1 & 2 on DVD from Amazon. We’re going to watch the last disk of Season 1, and immediately turn around and sell the whole set on eBay. As we were on our way to the quarry last night, we discussed just how much money M0vie G@llery was losing because they SUCK: $4 for the last Season 1 disk, $24 for the entire Season 2, and $4 for Mystic River. From now on, though it’s a little more out of the way, I’ll be doing the bulk of my movie renting at H0llywood Video. And since I now watch movies while I’m exercising on the elliptical trainer, that’s bound to add up. I think it’s time to write a letter, is what I think. * * * You know, I’ve been seeing more and more of that line of anti-boy t-shirts in the stores lately. You know what I’m talking about – Boys Lie, Boys Suck, Boys are Dumb, Boys are Smelly – Throw Rocks at Them, Boys are Full of it – Fling Poop at Them. (If you haven’t seen shirts or pens or notebooks or stickers like that, you probably haven’t been in your local Spencer’s). I’m not so crazy about the anti-boy stuff, in fact I’d go so far as to say I hate them. If there was a popular line of “Girls smell good. Hold them down and fuck them!” t-shirts, there’d be a hue and cry. But it’s okay to be anti-boy? Fuck that. Look, you know I have a sense of humor and I like the rude, obnoxious stuff. But these shirts just aren’t funny. * * * Miz Poo thinks that boys are just fine as long as they worship her. Girls too, for that matter. She’s not sexist. ]]>

Rachael, who saved the day by letting me know that the latest book in Stephen King’s Dark Tower series came out today. I had completely forgotten! I grabbed up the $10 Waldenbooks coupon I’d been saving for just such an occasion and went to the mall as fast as I could go. When I was paying for the book, the lady working there – I think she was the manager – asked if I needed her to put the new Bill Clinton book on reserve for me. “Uh,” I said. “NO.” And then I laughed. Whereupon she told me that her district manager was giving her hell because she wasn’t getting enough people to pre-order the Bill Clinton book, and that his store was getting 50+ pre-orders a day. “Where’s his store?” I asked. “Arkansas!” “Ah,” I said, and we rolled our eyes about her district manager. See? I can be approachable!

* * * SUCH a liar. This is what really happened. After Fred went to the quarry and spent an hour or so swimming there, he came home and talked about it for the rest of the day and into the night. He made it sound so amazing that I was absolutely chomping at the bit to go and swim myself. Yesterday was cloudy off and on, but when Fred left work it was more sunny than cloudy, and once he got home, we decided that it was perfect swimming weather. I put on a t-shirt and shorts (please. I am SO not wearing a bathing suit in public!), we packed some drinks and towels, and off we went. We had the quarry to ourselves for the most part (there were a few people on the other end for a little while), and I went over to the pier to look into the water. “It’s kind of creepy, isn’t it, the way you can’t see the bottom?” Fred said. “No, it’s cool!” I said. The water was a beautiful blue-green (more blue than green) color, and I couldn’t wait to get in. Fred went first, stepping down the stairs from the top level of the pier to the bottom level, gasping every inch of the way as he moaned about how cold the water was. Wimp, I thought, mentally rolling my eyes. But he wasn’t kidding. If I had testicles, they would have sucked up into my body when I started walking down the steps. When I got to the bottom level of the pier, the water was up around boob level, and I whined and moaned about how damn cold it was. Which is when I first felt it. I looked down and realized that I was surrounded by bream of all sizes and they were QUITE interested in me. As I watched, several of the smaller ones darted forward, nibbled at my legs, and then darted away. I’m betting that some people who come to the quarry feed the fish, and they were checking to see if I was edible. It was cool to watch, and I stood in place and watched them take turns coming forward, nibbling, and swimming away. Fred went underwater and adjusted his mask, then swam away a little. “Come on, Bessie!” he said. “Come off the pier!” And then assorted bream started nibbling a little harder, seeming to concentrate on the backs of my thighs. I don’t know if my thighs were jiggling in a way to make them look like fish food or what, but several bream seemed to think there was food to be found. “Hey!” I yelled, and started running in place so the little fuckers would knock it off. I started to feel a tad claustrophobic being surrounded by so many fish, so I grabbed my mask and yellow foam noodle off the upper level of the pier (what? You don’t swim with a yellow foam noodle? Liar.) and jumped off the pier. A couple of the little fuckers took a last few chomps off the backs of my thighs, and then I was away from them. I put my mask on and looked downward. Where I couldn’t see even the hint of the bottom. There was nothing to be seen but water, as far as the eye could see. I draped myself over my foam noodle and suddenly felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. The idea of being suspended in water 50 feet deep, with god knows what swimming down there, creeped me out. I flailed around, feeling more than a little panicked, and checked to see where Fred was. He was about thirty feet away, looking down toward the bottom of the quarry. I took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and put my mask back on. With one hand on my noodle (and the other one is flashing the peace sign!) I floated on my stomach and looked down toward the bottom of the quarry again. Which is when I saw the BIGGEST UGLIEST FUCKING FISH I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE. It was big – at least three feet big – and it was UGLY, and when it saw me, rather than quickly swimming away, he gave me a curious “Hm. That looks like food…” look and HEADED IN MY DIRECTION. “Fuck THIS,” I said, and I grabbed my noodle and I hauled ass toward the pier. When I was on the pier, the bream darted forward to partake of my delicious thighs, and I stomped across the pier as fast as I could, saying “STOP IT, YOU FUCKERS!” and I stomped up the steps to the top part of the pier, and waited for Fred to take his face out of the water. When he did, he said “What are you – ?” “No, I’m sorry,” I said. “No, it’s too fucking creepy and there was a fish THE SIZE OF MY ASS, and no. I’ll just say here while you swim. I’ll be over at the picnic table. Take your time.” “Bessie,” he said patiently. “Come back in!” “No!” I said. “I don’t like the fish, and I don’t like not being able to see the bottom! It’s too creepy! And the fish are too big!” “Bessie,” he said. “The fish won’t bother you!” “It SWAM AT ME!” I said. “It was going to bite me!” “Bessie, there are no fresh water fish that eat humans!” “SAYS WHO?” “It’s a fact!” he said. “Fresh water fish won’t hurt you, I promise.” “YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!” “Bessie, please? Come back in the water.” I considered it. He was really having a good time and I wanted to have a good time, too. If I didn’t learn to appreciate the magic of the quarry, I could foresee many afternoons where I’d be home by myself while he was off at the quarry. “Okay, FINE,” I said. “But you have to stay WITH me.” I was pretty sure that if another six-foot-long people-eating catfish came toward us, I could cripple him with a kick to the crotch, and swim to safety while the catfish made a meal of him. So I went back into the water, got nibbled a few more times, and spent the next hour following Fred around and checking out all the cool underwater things. It was really pretty amazing, and I can’t wait to go back. I still don’t like those fucking catfish, though. * * * “What? You have an empty box, you think I’m not going to jump into it?” ]]>

Shelley‘s baby while she and M went out to paint the town. The baby was five months old and a boy (it’s a boy, Shelley!), but very advanced for his age. He was potty trained and could walk quite well, and while he couldn’t talk, he could make it clear what he wanted. The child would NOT stop shoving Beanie Babies in his mouth. Every time I turned around I had to pull one out of his mouth, and I couldn’t figure where the hell he was getting them. I’d pull one out, and he’d give me a big toothy grin, then ten seconds later there was a Beanie leg or tail sticking out of his mouth. As you can imagine, it was quite frustrating. I sure hope Shelley keeps the Beanie Babies away from her baby, that’s all I’ll say.

* * * So, one of the things I hate about paying bills is the whole writing out the checks, then trusting my mailman to not lose my mail, and waiting for the checks to clear. My credit union offers a Billpay option, wherein you basically electronically transfer the money, it’s immediately taken out of your checking account, and it gets there faster than the mail would. I’m seriously considering using Billpay to pay the majority of our bills (excepting, of course, our mortgage, because I just KNOW that it would turn into a huge fuckarow because Ch@se Manhatt@n sucks ass). Here’s where you come in – in the comments, tell me the horror stories about your friend’s friend’s cousin’s uncle who used the Billpay option at their bank and they took out $10,000 instead of $1,000. If there are horror stories to be told about paying bills electronically, I know y’all will have them. I have faith in you! * * * Which reminds me – thanks for all the sad song suggestions in Friday’s comments. I read some of them and thought “I can’t believe I forgot that song!”, and there are a bunch I want to listen to, which I think I’m going to start doing this week. Y’all rock. * * * It appears, though I haven’t gotten any email telling me so, that I’m up for a few Diarist Awards. A couple of entry awards, and a site award. Thank you to whoever nominated me (the person who nominated me for Best Journal (Overall), what exactly were you on?), and if you have a journal go vote whether you vote for me or not! Fred’s up for Best Account of a Public or News Event for this entry, and Jane‘s up for Best Writing. You should DEFINITELY go vote for them. Go on, now. Scoot! * * * I so cannot believe Jennifer Lopez married whatshisname. What the hell is up with that? I mean, DAMN. She was in Forever Love with Ben “The Head” Affleck just a few months ago. That is one screwed-up woman. I mean, I’d love to be proven wrong here, but I suspect this marriage won’t last a year. She has some weird deep-seated need to be married, and she’s going to spend her life moving from man to man, marrying them during the first months of their relationship, and dumping them when real-life hits and she realizes “This isn’t champagne and roses!” Speaking of celebrity marriages, I’ll now lift my 18-month prediction on Julia Roberts and Matthew Modine Michael Madsen what the fuck is his name again? Danny Moder, especially since July 4th will be two years. Heh. Also, you can’t have that “They’re about to break up annnnnnny minute now” bad karma out there when kids are involved. I’m surprised that she didn’t wait until she was past three months to make the announcement. Maybe they were afraid that the news would leak and wanted to pre-empt that? Anyway. Consider that prediction nullified and in it’s place a wish for a long, happy marriage, mm’kay? * * * What? You’ve never seen a cat sitting in a box before? ]]>

* * * We finally got the box of stuff we sent ourselves from Gatlinburg, and BELIEVE YOU ME I was cursing the woman who’d packed the box for us. By the time I was done scooping those evil fucking styrofoam peanuts out of the box, I had two big garbage bags full of nothing but the fucking things (Fred dropped them off at a Mailboxes, Etc. the next morning. Recycling at it’s finest.). I loathe those fucking things, HATE THEM. What’s wrong with plain old bubble wrap? NOTHING, that’s what. I swear, the next time I get a box with peanuts in it, I’m going to be forced to go on a shooting spree. Styrofoam peanuts = pure evil. Ugh. Anyway, I took pictures of most of the stuff I bought for you to enjoy. Who loves ya? Why, yes. That would be me. I always buy tons of magnets when we’re in G’burg, some of them from World O’ Magnets, and some in other gift stores. I do love the magnets.

Fred surprised me by buying this one for me. Awww. My favorite. Heh. Love the Happy Bunny! In fact, I got so many magnets that I decided to get rid of some of the ones I’ve bought in the past and give them away on the giveaway page (I’ll get that done later today or tomorrow, promise!). A blurry shot of some of the salsa Fred bought at The Pepper Palace. We won a shot glass from Fannie Farkle’s (an arcade). Fred usually gets the obnoxious t-shirts, but when I saw the back, I had to get this one for myself. Above is the front… The back. Heh. (You can get your own here.) Because we just don’t have enough cups. Really! Two Quarry Cats to add to my collection. And that’s about it. As usual, we bought a bunch of stuff we don’t need. Which is what you’re supposed to do on vacation, right? You can see what Fred bought, here. * * * I was looking for a magnet yesterday, when I ran across a couple of t-shirts that made me laugh. Don’t I need this shirt? I don’t know why this made me laugh. It just did! * * * Since we didn’t have a cake on Fred’s birthday (it was a Wednesday and we were leaving the next day for Gatlinburg), we decided to have one today. I made him call and order it himself. He told them to put a lot of roses on it, though didn’t specify what color the roses should be. When I picked it up this morning, I was surprised to see just how girly the colors were: Pretty, no? I have a feeling I’ll be coming down from a serious sugar high in about six hours… * * * “I dub thee… Sir Stumpinboogers!” ]]>

am the lucky one, aren’t I? I need to invest in shirts that are low in the back so I can show off my badass scar. And for the record, I’m not worried. “Precancerous” means “If you wait long enough, it’ll become cancerous, but it isn’t yet”, so I’m just glad I actually had that physical. I made Fred take a picture of the spot on my back, since it’s in a place I can’t see and I was wondering what it looked like, and can I just say HOLY SHIT do I have a lot of freckles on my back! I had no idea. Luckily they’re all those little tiny freckles and not the big scary melanoma-looking ones. With all the sunburns I got as a kid, I’m surprised I don’t have to have all the skin on my body removed. (You do know the mole warning signs, right? Keep an eye on your moles!)

* * * Speaking of my skin issues, I have to keep a bandaid over the spot on my stomach. Regular bandaids just won’t cut it in the morning, because I sweat (heh – I originally typed “swear”. Which is also true!) profusely when I’m working out, and any regular bandaid will just slide off after a while. This morning when I was digging around in the basket where we keep our large collection of bandaids, I found a waterproof bandaid that sticks on all sides, and it swore on the box that the bandaid would stay in place through anything you could throw at it. I put it on, and went to work out, and sure enough the bandaid didn’t budge at all. When I took the bandaid off to take a shower, a small pool of sweat poured out. Gross. Yet also somehow cool. Is it better to let the spot marinate in a pool of sweat, or go without a bandaid for a little while? I suspect the latter. * * * I realized as I was vacuuming the downstairs this morning just how many damn spiders we have living in our house. I counted at least seven corners inhabited by spiders, and I’m sure there are many more. Like I’ve said before, as long as they keep their webs clean, I’ll let them stay. The problem is that spiders don’t actually eat bugs – they paralyze them and then suck the juices out of them, then toss the bug shell that’s left over out of the web. There were no less than eight bug shells on the floor under the web of the spider who lives in a corner of the kitchen. Did I suck up the spider who was making the mess? No, I vacuumed up the bug shells and let the spider stay. Because he’s killing the bugs like he’s supposed to! It is absolutely an amazing thing that I’m letting these spiders live in my house without freaking out, because as a kid I hated any kind of spider. Once (I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before) there was a spider in my room and I didn’t dare to get close enough to kill it and Debbie wouldn’t kill it for me, so we sprayed the fucking thing with half a can of furniture spray until it stopped moving. Most of the spiders in the house are fairly small-bodied with long legs. The spiders I can’t stand (and will either kill or shoo out of the house, depending on how close to the door they are when I spot them) are grass spiders. They tend to be HUGE – when we lived in the other house, we left a foam noodle in the pool one night. The next morning we decided to go for a swim. On the noodle was a grass spider the SIZE OF MY FUCKING HAND, and it was covered with baby grass spiders. ::shudder:: The other kind of spider I really, really don’t like is one I didn’t know the name of until I happened to find the page I linked above. It’s the jumping spider. Not only do they have what appears to be pincer-like front legs (I always think they look like tiny crabs), THE FUCKERS JUMP. REALLY FAR. LIKE FOUR TIMES THE LENGTH OF THEIR LITTLE BODIES. Ugh. I actually found a couple of jumping spiders facing off in the kitchen this morning. I put a cup over them, slid a piece of paper under the cup, and took them outside. When I dumped them out of the cup, one of them immediately JUMPED TOWARD ME. Little fucker. Spider pictures that have made me shudder this morning: the banana spider (UGH), the black widow (those things just look SO FUCKING EVIL), and the golden rod spider. I don’t know about you, but after looking at all those spider pictures, I’m feeling all itchy, as though thousands of spiders are crawling on me… * * * A couple of people asked in the comments yesterday whether it bothers the spud that I clean her room and get rid of stuff while she’s gone in the summer. It hasn’t so far, and she’s always glad to see her room clean and straightened when she gets home. This is actually the first year I’ve cleaned her room that I haven’t tossed any toys, mainly because she’s gotten older and isn’t getting so many toys that she never plays with. I’m going to take down the Little Mermaid poster and put a bulletin board in it’s place, but I’m going to keep the poster (it’s a nice one that her father’s cousin gave her when she was little) and if she decides that she wants it back, we’ll find another place on her wall to hang it. As for the shirts, I’ve packed them away so that if at some point after she gets home she says “Where’s my (blank) shirt?” I can go dig it out. It hasn’t happened in the five years, though, and I expect it won’t happen this year either, since I talked to her the other day and it sounds like she’s already got a ton of clothes to bring home with her! I generally give the old clothes until around Christmas, and if she hasn’t needed something I’ve packed away by then, I figure she never will, and I donate it to charity. * * * Yellow lilies. Pretty, eh? * * * I got the BEST LINK EVER from Laura this morning – Maine Goodies has anything an exiled Mainer could ever wish for. I’m particularly drooling over the whoopie pies and lobster stew! * * * Spot. He’s in his bed! (He spends all day in his bed. I suspect he does the exciting stuff at night when we’re asleep) ]]>

The Alamo and Fred was giving his order. “What are the vegetables of the day?” he asked. “Blah blah blah,” said the waiter. “Oh.” Fred pondered. “I’ll just have a side salad, then. With bleu cheese dressing, on the side. Also, can I have my salad without cheese on it?” “No cheese?” the waiter said, writing it down. “Right.” Fred paused and then gazed earnestly at the waiter. “I like cheese, just not on a salad.” He looked at the waiter as though he expected him to write it down so that he could go into the kitchen and say “One side salad, no cheese! The guy LIKES cheese, just not on a salad!” The waiter nodded and left. “What the hell?” I said. “Why on EARTH would you feel the need to explain that to him? He doesn’t care WHY you don’t want cheese on your SALAD!” Fred just grinned. Later, when we went to the UPS store so we could pack a box with all the crap we’d bought and then send it to ourselves, Fred felt the need to explain to the lady working there. “We flew up,” he said. “On a very small plane and we’re not sure everything will fit. So we’re going to mail it to ourselves!” “I see,” the woman said. The next day, we went to a movie store to rent a couple of DVDs to watch on the laptop in the hotel room that night. We chose a couple of movies, then Fred went to the counter to pay. It was hot in the store, so I got the car key and went out to turn on the air conditioner and wait for him. Ten minutes later, he finally moseyed out. “What the hell?” I said. “What took so long?” “Oh, I got to talking to the guy,” he said. It turns out that Fred had a conversation wherein the following bits of information were disseminated: *We flew to Gatlinburg (from Huntsville, AL) in a very small plane for a very good price. *Fred is a software engineer. *We have a laptop with a 17-inch monitor. *Fred owns his own company. After telling me all he’d told the counter guy, Fred said “I can’t help it. I’m a friendly guy!” “Did you tell him you like cheese, just NOT on a salad?” I said. “Shut UP.” I guess his willingness to strike up a conversation with just about anyone is what makes Fred so approachable, although no one asked him to take their picture on this trip. I, on the other hand – maybe it’s the Yankee in me – tend to stick to “tell them only what they need to know”: I go into a restaurant, I order what I want, I feel no need to explain anything to anyone, I eat, I leave. I’m not UNFRIENDLY, mind you – if they strike up a conversation with me, I’m perfectly willing to respond. I smile in a friendly manner, I say “Thank you”, and then I go on my way. I guess we complement each other pretty well – he’s friendly and chatty, and I… make fun of him for it. Works for me! Heh.

* * * I spent a couple of hours cleaning the spud’s room yesterday, and now it looks pretty decent. I got her a new comforter – the old one was looking pretty ratty – and I went through her closet and took out the shirts she never wears (the child has WAY TOO MANY clothes, that’s all I’ll say), and I dusted and straightened her bookcase. All I have to do now is put up a bulletin board so that she can tack things to it instead of the wall. I’m also going to take down her Little Mermaid poster and put it away, and then I’ll be done! Usually it takes me half the summer to get my butt in gear and get her room cleaned. Go, me! * * * The Mighty Hunter.]]>

episode of Friends, where they’re playing the game that ultimately ends with the guys winning Monica and Rachael’s apartment. The question “What is Chandler Bing’s job?” comes up, and the girls say: Monica: It’s umm, it has something to do with transponding. Rachel: Oh-oh-oh, he’s a transponce – transpondster! It’s just a good thing the air traffic controller didn’t start talking about the plane’s phalanges.

* * * So, remember the mole I had removed from my stomach, and then the spot where the mole had been got infected? Despite being on antibiotics for a week and putting antibiotic cream on it, it didn’t really get better. In fact, it got worse. Naturally it did most of the getting worse while we were in Gatlinburg. It was continuing to drain and seemed to get bigger. I watched it to see if it would start putting out the red streaks or start hurting, neither of which it did. Since I had an appointment at 8 this morning to have the stitches removed, I just kept putting cream and a band-aid on it and taking my antibiotics. This morning when I got out of the shower I looked down at the spot where the mole had been removed, and messed with the stitches, making sure they were sticking up enough so that the doctor could remove them. Then I dried off, combed my hair, and grabbed a band-aid to put over the spot. The stitches were gone. “Wha?” I said. I poked around the spot a little to see if maybe the stitches had sunken below the puss-y looking area in the middle. Then I glanced over at the floor in front of the shower, and saw the little piece of thread that had comprised one of the stitches sitting there, still knotted. Apparently drying myself had pulled the stitches out without me even realizing it. When I got to the doctor’s office, I explained what had happened to the doctor (not my usual doctor; she doesn’t work on Monday and Tuesday) who was to remove my stitches. She took a good long look at the spot on my stomach, said she had a plan, and proceeded to remove the stitches from the spot on my back (which did NOT get infected, thankyajeezus). Then she had me lay back, and put silver nitrate on the spot on my stomach to cauterize it, so that it could heal from the bottom up. She said it might burn, but I didn’t feel a damn thing, although now – an hour later – it’s itching like hell. AGH! Make it stop! Anyway, it’ll take a couple of weeks to completely heal, but in the meantime I’ll be supporting the band-aid industry by putting antibiotic cream and a band-aid on the area three times a day. I’m just glad that this didn’t happen with the spot where the mole was removed from my back, because I can’t quite reach that spot, so it would have been a matter of driving to Fred’s office during the day so he could change the band-aid for me. That would be NOT FUN, I think. (Also, no word yet from the lab tests on the moles I had removed. She’s going to have her nurse call the lab and yell at them, so I should be hearing something in the next few days.) * * * Apparently everyone wants to know about my Seasonale experiences thus far, so here it is: My first two months on the Seasonale were just fine. At the end of month two, I accidentally skipped a pill (because I’m a dumbass), which seemed to be the trigger for a month of breakthrough bleeding. At the end of the month (month three), it was time to take a week off from taking the pill (I don’t bother with the placebo pills), so I did, and had a fairly normal period. The Sunday following that, I started up on the pill again. My period ended, and almost two weeks later I haven’t had any breakthrough bleeding (yet!). I said when I started taking the Seasonale that it was going to take my body time to adjust, and I wasn’t going to give up unless I’d been taking it for a year and was still having problems. I was on the regular pill for eight years before this year, my body had adjusted to that schedule, and switching to a schedule where I only have my period every three months is surely something that it’ll take time for my body to adjust to. I’ll give y’all a final report on whether it works for me when it’s been a year. * * * From my comments: Hi Robyn. I’m a long time reader (well a couple of years anyway). My family and I will be in Gatlinburg this weekend to. My two year old daughter and my pregnant self will be strolling the streets with Mamaw and Papaw (hopefully I won’t pass out from the awful heat we have been having). Do you ever wonder if you might run into one of your readers some day! Don’t worry, I’m not a stalker or anything, so if I see you and Fred I’ll just smile and be on my merry way!! 🙂 Did you see us? What were we doing? Oh no, don’t answer that – I was sweating my ass off, and Fred was carrying all the bags. Heh. Hey Robyn, here’s a question you might wanna answer someday in an entry: when you say “slap up an entry,” how much time are you really talking about putting into creating one? I’m curious to know what’s the longest amount of time you ever spent on 1 entry, and the shortest amount of time. It depends – if it’s 1:15 and I’m hungry, I can get an entry done in about 30 minutes, and about five of those minutes are spent putting the links at the bottom of the page. The longest I’ve ever spent on an entry would probably be this one, which took me two days to write, because the original entry was a lot more pissed-off sounding than the finished entry. I had to do an awful lot of editing. On the average, though, because I almost never sit down and just write an entry – I’m always distracted by email, cats, shiny things – I’d say it takes about an hour. (Hard to believe, eh?) Your Gatlinburg trip sounded wonderful! My sister and I are going down there to do some hiking in a couple of weeks, and I wondered if the cicadas had invaded Gatlinburg. As far as I know, I didn’t see any cicadas. But then, I’m not quite sure what they look like. In any case, the streets weren’t littered with dead bugs, so I’m going to say that the cicada invasion hasn’t hit Gatlinburg. Yer killing me! No review posted for Crow Lake yet? Put me outta my misery, I’m dying to know how many stars.. or square thingamajiggys.. (That comment is from the wonderful Adena who asked me if I’d read the book yet – I hadn’t, so I put it on my wish list, and then she went and bought it for me! Adena rocks.) I absolutely loved it, and I rated it 5 Poos! Thanks again for recommending it and then buying it for me; I had never heard of it before you mentioned it, and it was a total gem of a book – I enjoyed every word of it. Don’t know if your pharmacist told you this or maybe you already know but some antibiotics can mess with your birth control and since you guys are going to be doing the nudist thing while spud is away I thought I would remind. People. Nudity does not NECESSARILY lead to sex. Get your minds out of the gutters. Heh. I think the airlines are NUTS. They shouldn’t charge (IMO) parents who want to take their minor kids to the gate, I mean you cant go anywhere w/o a ticket anyway, whats wrong with a free pass? I just called my dad, my mom took my grandma to her gate several times and they never charged her. Oh well. No, they didn’t charge me the $75 to acompany her to the gate – they charged me the $75 so that when she landed in Atlanta a flight attendant would take her from the gate she landed at to the gate her flight to OC was leaving from, so she wouldn’t get lost and spend the rest of her life wandering around the airport. $75 is SO worth it for the peace of mind, knowing that someone will make sure she gets to her gate okay. My pass to accompany her to the gate she left from at the Huntsville airport didn’t cost me anything. Didn’t you write recently about an Experience you had with Pizza Hut’s buffalo chicken pizza? Cause I think I had that same experience. What the hell is in that pizza? No, it was Alicia and Nance who tried the buffalo chicken pizza and suffered from it. I did say that I still wanted to give it a try, but I’ve since changed my mind. The funny thing is that when we were in Gatlinburg, Fred wanted to order the buffalo chicken pizza, and I wouldn’t let him. Because who wants to be sick while they’re on vacation? I have a question as well: I’m not a native English speaker, so I am wondering what the word “Spud” means? “Spud” is slang for “potato.” Heh. So, you say that Spanky is your ‘special’ kitty… what makes him not the brightest bulb in the pack? I must’ve missed it somewhere! Everything scares him. EVERYTHING. I’ve watched him see a spot of sunlight on the floor and get freaked out by it. Also, when he sits and stares into space, you can just tell there’s nothing going on in there. Of course, we love him to death, dumb or not. Ok….why couldn’t you drop Fred’s ass (and his fucked up leg!) off at the door of the auditorium? I could have dropped Fred’s ass off at the door of the auditorium the night of the spud’s (last!) band concert, but it really is quite a hike even from the door, so I decided to be the wonderful person I am and give up the fight. Now I have something to hold over his head for all of eternity. When I’m 93 and he won’t go get me a Diet Coke, I can say “Okay, that’s fine. EVEN THOUGH I didn’t make you go to the spud’s last band concert, you bastard!” * * * I went to the pet store to feed the cats yesterday. After I had pressed the buzzer so that someone would come and let me in, I looked to the side of the door and realized that there was a carrier sitting there. And then a cat peeked out at me. When one of the guys who works at the store came to let me in, I pointed and said “Did you know there’s a carrier over there with a cat in it?” He hadn’t known, of course, and went out to pick it up. Later, he came and got the number to the cat shelter from me. I expect once the cat is medically cleared and neutered or spayed, I’ll be seeing it at the pet store. Poor kitty, it looked absolutely terrified. I’d go on a rant here about people who are assholes and abandon their pets, but I’m actually kind of glad that whoever left the cat there did that instead of taking it out into the country and dumping it alongside the road. But still. Poor kitty! Pet store pictures are here. * * * “I am NOT stupid. YOU’RE stupid. Bitch. Stop calling me stupid, or I’ll come steal your breath while you’re sleeping…”]]>

* * * So, ever since we spent 12 hours driving to Memphis, hanging around Memphis, and then driving home from Memphis the week before last, we’ve really REALLY not been looking forward to making the 4 1/2 – 5 hour drive to Gatlinburg. We bitched and moaned about how long the drive would be, we talked about staying home (but not seriously), and then on Tuesday Fred said “I’m kind of looking forward to the drive. It’ll be fun!” But come Wednesday morning he called me from work and said “God. I do NOT want to drive for five hours tomorrow. Wah!” “Baby,” I said. “We are not canceling our vacation! No other place on earth can provide me with the high levels of sugar that are contained within the boundaries of the Gatlinburg/ Pigeon Forge area! We are GOING, so quit your bitching!” But Fred, he is a resourceful person and he came up with a way to get to Gatlinburg fast. Very very fast. Like, in a little more than an hour. And it didn’t even require a transporter machine! It’s a Dakota Piper. Fred is one of three owners of his company. One of the other owners – longtime readers will remember the man known as “Tex” – has his pilot’s license, and he’s not only visually rated, he’s also instrument rated and a whole bunch of other ratings that mean nothing to me. He actually teaches other people to fly. He’s flown 800 hours in the last year and had nary a single scary incident. AND he owns a small plane with two other guys. “Think of it!” Fred said. “We can leave the house at 8:00, and we’ll be in Gatlinburg by 10:00! We’ll have the whole day, and all day Friday, and all day Saturday, and then he can pick us up on Sunday!” Because I am a brave soul and because I have no desire to spend five hours in a car when I can spend one hour in a plane, I agreed. (I didn’t tell y’all I was flying because I knew you’d worry. Aren’t I sweet? Also, I knew you’d tell me horror stories about your aunt’s brother’s nephew’s cousin’s sixth cousin once removed who knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy who flew a small plane directly upwards into the sun, and the plane melted and fell apart and the guy who was flying the plane ALMOST DIED!) We left the house at 8:00, got to the tiny little airport near Decatur, and were taking off around 8:30ish. Tex on the left, Fred on the right. Fred was the “copilot”, and promised to scream for help if Tex keeled over and had a heart attack. The runway. The Tennessee River, on the other side of that line of trees. You can’t really see it, but believe me – it’s there! Passing through the clouds. Fluffy clouds. Hey, look! Clouds! The horizon (and more clouds). Mountains… and traffic and houses and stores, oh my! We did a sudden sharp turn when we were about to land at the Gatlinburg/ Pigeon Forge airport (which is actually located in Sevierville) and it felt like the wing was about to touch these houses. Heading for the runway. All in all, it was a pretty cool experience. It was like being in a flying SUV. I sat in the back seat, and had plenty of leg room (though, granted, I have short, stubby legs). There was a storage area behind me where we put our luggage. It was pretty smooth flying most of the way, though we went through a couple of big clouds that were bumpy. Rather than being scared, I laughed my ass off – it was like being on a roller coaster. I was honestly not scared for one minute of the flight. And I think we’ve been spoiled rotten – I don’t ever want to have to drive to Gatlinburg again! Once we were at the airport, we got our luggage and our rental car (yes, that’s money we wouldn’t have had to spend if we’d driven, but we decided our time was worth it – and then some!) and were headed for Gatlinburg in no time. Two hours after we’d left the house, we were ordering lunch. An hour and a half after that, we checked into our hotel room (they let us check in early), and we headed downtown to do some looking around. We spent an hour or so in the aquarium (I took a buttload of pictures, which I will put up at some later date). We bought some coffee, we looked in a few stores, and after a few hours, we headed back to our hotel room, but not before stopping for… Fudge! Oh, I almost forgot! We were looking through one of the many many t-shirt stores that Gatlinburg has, and Fred poked me. When I looked at him, he nodded toward the back of the store, where there was an airbrushing booth. Leaning on the counter of the booth were two girls. One of them was wearing a skirt so short that had she been standing straight up might have just covered her ass. But she wasn’t standing straight up – she was leaning forward on the counter, as I mentioned. And her bare ass was sticking out for the world to see. She MIGHT have been wearing a thong, but I couldn’t tell for certain. I swear, I felt like I was seeing live porn right there in front of me. I have no idea how old she was, either – everyone under the age of 30 looks like they’re about 12 to me now. I guess that’s one of the signs that I’m getting old, eh? Friday we walked back down into Gatlinburg, stopped in almost every store, and then went to the Ripley’s Moving Theater, because they had new movies this year. This is a ride where you get 3-D glasses, and you go strap yourself into a seat. When the movie starts, your seat moves as though you’re on a roller coaster, or whatever the movie is showing. It’s usually pretty cool, but this time around both the movies were particularly violent, and when I woke up Saturday morning I had bruises on my thighs and arms from being thrown around. I hated it, but Fred loved it. Go figure. We ate lunch at Blaine’s (we always eat there at least once – Fred loves their steak fajitas), then spent another couple of hours walking around downtown before heading back to the hotel with our purchases. Fred ran our bags up to the room while I started the car, and then we went to Pigeon Forge for a few hours before going back to the room and hanging out for the rest of the evening. Saturday was more of the same – shopping, people-watching, eating lunch at The Alamo. We had talked about going on a hike, but since it rained Friday figured it would be rather muddy to go hiking, and opted not to. Sunday morning Fred woke up to find that it was raining like hell. He called Tex to see if we’d still be able to fly home. Tex checked the something-or-other and told Fred that it should be no problem. We showered and packed and ate the last of our fudge (okay, that would be ME), then checked out and headed to the airport to wait for Tex. Twenty minutes later, he was there, and we were loaded and on our way. The trip back was a lot less smooth than the trip there – it was very cloudy and we had to go through a large number of clouds, which was very very bumpy. I wasn’t worried, though, and we were home by 12:30ish. This is the first time we’ve been gone for a few days since we got Mister Boogers, and he was very VERY vocal in expressing his displeasure all afternoon yesterday. Fred went out into the garage to work out, and Mister Boogers sat by the garage door and howled and howled until I went to pick him up. He actually slept on the bed with me all last night, too. Which sucked a little, because he’s a total bed hog. Good thing he’s cute. “I SO don’t hog the bed. Much.” ]]>