Category: Life

I took this one. Obviously. Fred took this one of Miz Poo in the back yard. Look at how clear and crisp the picture is! Miz Poo, lickinglickinglicking. The spud took this one with the old camera. Just thought I’d sneak it in here. The spud, lookin’ cute. I’m lucky that she hasn’t reached the age where she screams and runs away when she sees a camera. Of course, she’s so cute (and no, I’m not biased at alllllll) that she’s got no reason to run away screaming. The Tubs! Uh, Nance? You ain’t kiddin’ when you say it’s all about the angle! Tubby looks downright svelte from this angle! (The rest of the pictures are taken with the old camera)

The Bean LEAPS upon the Tubbyman. Growling and hissing and kicking and licking ensues. Also, some biting. The Tubs kicks his stubby little legs helplessly. The Bean sashays off while Tubby grabs at the air. ]]>

Something’s Gotta Give, but other than that, anything is fine with me. I also want to make a trip to the ocean and get some good pictures – we’ll need a sunny day for that, I think. Tuesday is Liz’s birthday and I’m taking her out to dinner, though I don’t know where yet. I’m excited about going to Maine, have I mentioned?

* * * We watched two more episodes of season 4 of The Sopranos last night – we’re more than halfway through the season and worried about what we’re going to watch when we’re done with it. Season 2 of The Shield comes out in early January, so maybe that’ll be next on the list. I think it just rocks that they put TV shows out on DVD. I got Season 2 of Felicity for Christmas. I also got the first episode of China Beach; that’s one show I wish they’d put out on DVD, because I’d buy it the instant it became available. Speaking of TV shows and the like, our cable company is now offering something very similar to TiVo for a monthly fee of around twenty bucks. I think Fred’s actually interested in getting it, maybe I can talk him into having the guy come and install it while I’m in Maine. * * * We got our water bill in the mail yesterday, and when I saw that it was FOUR TIMES AS MUCH as last month’s, I about flipped out. I showed it to Fred, who reminded me that we’d gotten a note on our front door from the city water guys, who’d been on our property because they suspected we had a leak on our property. Fred consulted with his father and did various and sundry things, and decided that the leak was in the front part of the house. He called a plumber to come out, and the plumber decided that the leak was in a different part of the house, and he’ll be back Tuesday with some super-duper leak-detection device, which is 85% accurate at locating leaks. Is it wrong that I kinda hope the leak is somewhere in the kitchen so that they end up tearing up the stone floor I hate so much, so that I can make a case for replacing the floor with vinyl? If it’s not one thing with this house, it’s a damn ‘nother. * * * Have I mentioned that I’m turning 36 in less than two weeks? Mark your calendar, folks – January 9th, the sun will refuse to shine in sympathy to my old age. I swear, I really do feel like I’m still 19. How’d I get so old? While Fred and I were out driving around and listening to his new stereo system last night, I suddenly realized that to the untrained eye, I am an adult. ME. How the fuck did that happen? * * * I went to Target this morning to look for a tote bag to carry on the plane with me. My purse isn’t really big enough for all the stuff I want to take – bottles of water, a couple of books, 63 packs of gum – so I thought a tote bag would work well for me, and I could pack my purse, and switch my wallet and everything over when I got to Maine. Yes. I AM a dork. Anyway, after a lot of looking around, I ended up with a fairly hideous bag. Trust me, the picture doesn’t do justice to its hideousness. But for less than ten bucks, would do you expect? It’s got pockets inside for my blistex and 63 packs of gum, along with a few (hundred) emergency tampons, and it’s also got outside pockets where I can stick my tickets. It’s roomy enough for a few bottles of water (I’ll be damned if I buy bottles of water at the damn airport for $16 apiece) and a couple of books and a notebook and my wallet, so I’m not going to complain. If you’re wandering through the Cincinnati airport around 10 am tomorrow and see someone with a hideous bag, say hi. It’ll be me. Maybe I should make a trip to LL Bean while I’m in Maine to get a decent bag. I have one of the boat and tote bags, but it’s the one that’s big enough to put the spud in, and so I would guess that it won’t easily fit under the seat in front of me. Hmm… this is kinda cute. In an ugly sort of way, I mean… Okay, I’ve rambled on long enough, don’tchathink? I’m going to slap up some pictures of the Bean and call it an entry. I have to go yell at the spud to get her laundry done so I can finish mine, and I have to start packing, as well as vacuum the entire upstairs and maybe even clean the bathroom a little bit so that Fred won’t wallow in filth the entire time I’m gone. I plan to update from Maine, though I expect the entries won’t be terribly long, and there also won’t be pictures. I’ve updated every day this far – just a few more days and I’ll have done the entire month. Go, me! Anyway. The next time I update, I’ll be in Maine. Whee! * * * The Bean’s not sure what he thinks of this whole “outside” thing. It makes him a little nervous, really.]]>

here.) Date I started addressing cards: December 3rd. Date I finished: December 20th. Total cards sent out (not including family): 269. States receiving 10 or more cards: California, New Jersey, Ohio, Texas, Washington. States who don’t love me and didn’t want a card: Colorado, Delaware, Montana, New Mexico, Rhode Island, Vermont, West Virginia, Wyoming. Other countries receiving cards: Canada (23), New Zealand (1), Australia (3), United Kingdom (9), Sweden (1), Netherlands (1), Republic of Korea (1), Portugal (1), Germany (2), Estonia (1), Iceland (1), Finland (1). Most often recurring first names: Amy, Chris/Christine/Christy, Jennifer, Kristen, Laura, Melissa, Patricia/Patty/Pat, Teresa/Theresa. Number of cards kicked back as undeliverable: 2 (1 to Melissa R. in Indiana, 1 to Carol S. in Washington). Percentage of probability that I accidentally sent out more than one card to at least one person: 99.99999. Was I terribly organized about my card sending this year?: Less organized than last year, but not completely unorganized. Did I have a lot of fun shopping for funny cards?: You betcha. Next year we’re definitely doing homemade cards, though – we’ve already got a picture to use. What I’ll do differently next year: Start cutting and pasting names and addresses sooner (but I said that last year, I think!). Number of cards I’ve received: 130 (as of this morning). It confused me at first that I sent less cards out this year than last, until I realized that I’d taken down the weight loss journal, which cut down on the number of readers sending me their names and addresses. Thanks again, y’all, for all the sweet and funny cards you sent, as well as all the pictures of your kids and cats. You know I love ’em!

* * * On Christmas morning, I believe I mentioned, the spud and I made fabulous Mandarin muffins. I had eaten two muffins and decided that I could go for a third (shaddup!), so I walked from the computer room into the kitchen, where the remaining dozen muffins were cooling. You can imagine the shock and horror I felt when I entered the kitchen to see one stumpy-tailed little Beanie bastard sitting amongst the muffins, licking the top of one muffin as fast as his little tongue could go. Imagine further my shock and horror when I realized that his ASS was sitting atop one of the muffins, and as he defiled my muffins he was purring just as loudly as he possibly could. “YOU FUCKER!” I yelled. “GET AWAY FROM THERE!” Sensing somehow that I was displeased, the little fucker hopped up from his seat atop the muffins and leapt to the kitchen table and from there hopped to the back of the couch, and then ran down to sit on the living room floor. He sat and kept a wary eye on me, licking his lips as he did so. I tossed the muffins in the trash, although it did occur to me to leave the one the Bean had had his ass upon – the assmuffin, if you will – for Fred. But even I’m not quite that mean. I just wish I’d gotten pictures. * * * This morning, after picking up Fred at the car place (he’s having his radiator replaced) and bringing him home, I did some chores around the house – washing out the nasty litter box and filling it with clean litter, taking down all the Christmas decorations, bagging up the old clothes and toys the spud decided to get rid of – and I took a break to check my email. When I decided it was time to take a shower, I stood up and headed for the stairs. There, at the bottom of the stairs, sat the Bean, staring up at the pair of jeans Fred had hung over the end of the banister. “Hey Beanie, what -” I began, but the Bean was intent upon his mission. In one fluid motion, he leapt up, hooked his front claws in the jeans, hung there for one moment, and then the jeans let go and tumbled in a heap upon the floor, the Bean underneath them. With a chirrup, he emerged from under the jeans, eyed the pile of denim, and then climbed atop the pile, victorious. Because, of course, if there’s something on the floor… * * * Spanky, mid-yawn (taken by Fred).]]>

Lynchburg Lemonade. That, along with Mike’s Hard Lemonade had been catching my eye for several months, and I’d always think “Hey, that sounds kind of good! Maybe I’ll try some one of these days.” So Tuesday, I thought to myself, What better way to celebrate Christmas than to get plowed?, I picked up a 4-pack and put it in my cart. The spud said “Is that ALCOHOL?!”, and I cheerfully nodded. When I got home and was putting groceries away, Fred said “Oh I SEE, you alcoholic!” Wednesday night at Fred’s parents’ house, while we were eating dinner, everyone got to discussing wine – which everyone but Fred and I were drinking – and Fred informed his family, with the appropriate face of horror, that I had bought and was planning on drinking an alcoholic drink which had Jack Daniel’s in it. Whereupon everyone made an ew face and proclaimed how much they hated Jack Daniel’s. So after a hard day yesterday, during which I realized that the turkey we’d put in a sink of cold water was still frozen in the middle, and I couldn’t remove the giblets (and later I discovered I’d been looking in the wrong place for the giblets anyway) and I couldn’t reach Fred, who was out hiking with his father, and so I simply coated the turkey with olive oil and spices, tossed it in the roasting oven and hoped for the best, and then went with the spud to see the movie she’s apparently been dying to see, Gothika (highlight to see spoiler text: Halle Berry sees dead people), which wasn’t bad, and then I got home to find that Fred hadn’t even gotten the message I’d left on his voicemail bitching about the turkey, and then we found that the turkey was overdone and dry (it was a cheap store brand) and I decided to be bitchy and cranky, I thought to myself What better way to end this day than by getting drunk off my ass? and I opened a bottle of the Lynchburg Lemonade to drink with my dinner, which consisted of a very small amount of dry turkey, Stovetop stuffing (save your pity, that stuff is DAMN GOOD), green beans and almonds, and corn. And the Lynchburg Lemonade, despite the comments from Fred about how I was a raging alcoholic, was mighty damn fine. So I finished off that bottle, and not ten seconds later, my face was bright red. Alcohol has long had that effect on me, I guess – I know that about 10 years ago when I was doing shots of Cinnamon Schnapps with my sister and her boyfriend, my sister actually watched my face get red from the bottom up. We decided to watch some episodes of season 4 of The Sopranos, and over the course of two hours I finished the last three Lynchburg Lemonades, and although I am the lightest of the lightweights when it comes to that sort of thing, I only ever became mildly toasted, and my bitchy crankiness went away. And I slept like a baby. Woot!

* * * I went to the mall this morning to buy myself a buttload (boobload?) of bras, since Lane Bryant had them on sale for (I believe I mentioned) buy 2, get 2 free. The panti3s were also on sale, buy 3, get 3 free, so I picked up some of those. When I was done at Lane Bryant I walked over to Dillard’s, because I bought a Jelly Belly gift box for Brian last year to give to him this year (what? They keep!) and it was apparently a big hit with him, so I decided to do it again. A new Christmas tradition! Brian will be 40 years old and saying “God, I wish she’d STOP sending me the freakin’ Jelly Bellies!” The Christmas section of Dillard’s was just nuts, with women running everywhere grabbing everything in sight, since it was all 50% off. The line to check out was probably 30 people long. I grabbed a Jelly Belly gift box, and then also grabbed a box of Godiva to share with Fred. 50% off, people! You can’t beat that with a stick! I would have bought a buttload of boxes to give as gifts next year and through the year, but the very idea of having Godiva in the house and not eating it makes me laugh, because THAT won’t happen in this lifetime. So after I grabbed the Godiva and the Jelly Bellies, instead of standing in the line in the Christmas section, I walked twenty feet to the baby section, where there stood a cashier and no line, and I said “Can I pay for these here?”, and the cashier said “Sure!”, and I did. Always remember, people – you DON’T have to pay for the stuff you’re buying in the section where you found it. After I left the mall, I ran to Target, which was a total madhouse. Since I didn’t have a cart, I was able to dart in and out amongst those who did have carts, grabbed three big rolls of wrapping paper for next year, and was out of there in about ten minutes flat. You better believe I won’t be leaving the house again today, though, except to take Fred to pick up his Jeep. He got a bit of a Christmas bonus at work, and he’s using some of the money to buy a new stereo for his Jeep. Also, we’re buying a Dyson vacuum, too! Is it a sign of old age that I’m this excited about getting a new vacuum cleaner? * * * ZzzzzZzzzzZzzzz Such a pretty boy, that Spot.]]>

Happy holidays to you and yours, from us and ours!

* * * So as I mentioned in yesterday’s entry, we went to Fred’s father and stepmother’s house for dinner. We had to stop at Macaroni Grill to pick up some bread on the way. After Fred had picked up the bread (he said it was a total clusterfuck in there), we started thinking we smelled sausage. We decided it must be the bag that smelled that way, but then later we were told that there was rosemary in the bread, so that solved that mystery. Dinner was lasagna, bread, spinach salad, green beans and carrots, and for dessert apple tart and some whipped cream and chocolate dessert with a nut crust. Faaaaabulous, it was. (At least until later that evening when the fact that I’d eaten multiple servings of turnip greens and spinach salad caught up with me and caused some serious intestinal distress.) We sat around and talked and watched the kids and opened presents (I got a bunch of stuff from my wish list, and we got a candle set from Fred’s sister). The cat calendar we had printed, last-minute, for Fred’s parents seemed to be a hit, as well as the VCR we got for Fred’s sister and her boyfriend. We left around 8, stopped to get gas on the way home, and Fred and I were opening presents to each other by 9:30. (My haul: books from my wish list, a pattern for a cross-stitch yellow Beetle (“You finally got your Beetle!” Fred said. Hmph.), a bunch of candles, a pair of silver cat earrings from Esquivel & Fees, and my favorite gift of all – a Buddy Christ!) I was sound asleep by midnight, and up around 7:45, whereupon I did a little laundry, took my shower, and by the time I was downstairs the spud was up and had separated the presents into piles. My haul included a Kit-Kat Clock from my brother and sister-in-law, a bunch of stuff including some cross-stitch ornaments and a wooden cat (that I had actually looked at the last time we were in Gatlinburg!) from my sister and nephew, and an ornament and a set of mixing bowls from my parents. The spud and I made a batch of faaaaaaaaabulous Mandarin Muffins, and later we’re going to go to the movies to see Gothika, which the spud is dying to see. Fred has gone hiking with his father, and for dinner tonight we’re going to have turkey, stuffing, corn, and green beans. So I do get some of that traditional Christmas dinner, and my life will be complete. So, that’s my day. I hope yours, whether you celebrate Christmas or not, is just as cool. Happy holidays, and don’t forget – Lane Bryant has bras on sale tomorrow, buy two, get TWO free! You better believe my ass is going to be there. * * * Spanky hopes you have a relaxing day. He plans to sleep, sleep, sleep, eat, and then sleep some more. ]]>

* * * Pet store kitties pictures from Monday are here, by the way. While I’m in Maine, Fred will be pinch-hitting for me, so there’ll be no updates at that page.

* * * We spent the morning at Fred’s sister’s house – we got there around 10:20 or so and sat around waiting to eat brunch. Fred had told me we were having jambalaya, made by his stepfather (who’s a cajun from Louisiana and was responsible for making the oyster dressing at Thanksgiving that I plowed through as everyone sat around trying not to stare in horror at my piggish ways). I have to admit that once I heard it was spicier than he’d intended – and he likes his food mighty spicy (see: he’s a cajun) – I was not looking forward to it at all. Holy crap, people. IT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD. I had a side of turnip greens (I can only eat greens when they’re cooked from fresh – the frozen stuff makes me gag), and then we started on the dessert. We’d brought a poppy seed cake that the spud and I made yesterday and although the cake didn’t look like much, there was only one small piece left over for us to bring home (which I just ate), and there was some fudge Fred’s sister had made, and there was something called Fluff that Fred’s mother made, and also there was an apple tart that Fred’s sister’s boyfriend was making to bring to Fred’s dad and stepmother’s house, only it burned (some trouble with the celsius-to-farenheit conversion, I believe – he’s French), but since it was only burned around the edges, we sliced it up and everyone had a piece and it was diiiiiiiiiiivine. We gave Fred’s mother and stepfather gift certificates to Kohl’s and Home Depot, and they gave us some little statues to put in our garden, some kitchen towels (yellow! And she didn’t even know it was my favorite color!), and Fred and I each got a book from our wish list. And then Fred played an eternal game of Poker with his nephew, and the spud and I sat around the living room and chatted with the rest of the family, and then we left. When we left, we ran to Target, where Fred dropped me off. THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS AND I WAS IN TARGET! HAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I bought a VCR for Fred’s sister and a gift bag to put it in (long story short: usually we buy gifts for her two kids and she gets something for the spud, but last night Fred talked to her and got the impression that she’d gotten something for us, so we frantically ran around the house until we found something to give her, and then when we were opening presents we discussed quietly that we’d feel bad just giving something to her and not her boyfriend as well so we thought, since Fred had to run some errands, that he could drop me off at Target and I could buy a little gift basket sorta thing for him, then the movie that was playing – some Muppets movie – ended and Fred’s sister mentioned that she’d had that VCR since 1990, and voila! We decided to get them a vcr, and that’s what we did, and I hope they like it.) and then gave the few dollars I had in cash to the guy ringing the bell outside, and Fred drove back by to pick me up, and we came home. Where I opened the Amazon box that was sitting outside the garage door when we opened it this morning to leave (Chicago from reader Christine Q, who ROCKS! And while I’m thanking people, I’d also like to thank Heather, who sent me Joy School from my wish list, as well as reader Nancy P., who sent me a smiley-face santa ornament (and you’re right, Nancy, there’s NO such thing as too many smilies!), and the members of the Academy, who know real talent when they see it. Whoo!). In half an hour we’re going to leave to go to Fred’s father and stepmother’s house, where we will eat lasagna (nothing traditional for us this year, I guess) and open presents and watch Fred’s stepsister’s adorable children run around. So, y’all take it easy, and I’ll see you tomorrow! * * * “Why is it that every time I see the basket it’s turned over, and then I set it back upright, and yet ten minutes later it’s turned over again?” “I don’t know, Bessie.” “Meh.”]]>

Creepy picture! Damn you, Jane!

* * * The spud took the test for her learner’s permit today. She didn’t pass, but she doesn’t seem too brokenhearted about it. Oddly, it had never even occurred to me that she wouldn’t pass. We won’t have a chance for her to take the test again before school resumes (we leave for Maine on Monday and come back the day before school starts), so it’ll be sometime in January or February before she gets the chance to try again. Hopefully she’ll take advantage of the time to STUDY, but I’m not holding my breath. * * * If you don’t read Fred’s journal on a daily basis, you should check out yesterday’s entry – he got some absolutely awesome pictures of the cats. * * * The spud got out of school early on Friday and was home around 11:30. Since I needed to drop a bunch of stuff (including the last of the Christmas cards) off at the post office, I asked the spud if she wanted to get lunch at Applebee’s. Naturally, she did (like me, she’d probably eat every meal out if she could), and so we piled our mail into the back seat of the car and headed for the post office. We were in and out of there pretty quickly and headed for Applebee’s. The parking lot didn’t look full, but when we walked in the door, there were people waiting. I walked up to the podium and looked around for someone to take our name for the wait list. Five minutes passed, and SIX different waiters and waitresses walked up to the podium, gazed blankly past me, ignored my tentative smile, and walked away. Fuckers. When the last one, a small black man, stood at the podium and ignored me, I said to the spud “Let’s go. WE CAN BE IGNORED SOMEWHERE ELSE.” I turned on my heel and stomped out, followed by the spud. We went to Ruby Tuesday and were immediately seated and served. And I left a 50% tip, because I am always a very generous tipper, and I think those motherfuckers at Applebee’s should just shove their attitude where the sun don’t shine. I’m declaring a boycott of Applebee’s from this point forward. I’ll haul my generous-tipping ass elsewhere, even if I DO have to drive down a very busy highway into Huntsville. Fuckers. I just wish I hadn’t bought my parents an Applebee’s giftcard for Christmas. * * * Speaking of Ruby Tuesday, that’s one restaurant that has jumped on the low-carb bandwagon with both feet. They had a whole low-carb section of the menu as well as a small menu that sat on the table that had a list of the carbs in various menu items. They had a turkey wrap that sounded really good, but I wanted fries and so ended up getting a chicken club sandwich – which now that I think about it is stupid, since I’m sure I could have substituted fries for the pork rinds (or whatever it was) that came as a side with the low-carb stuff. Anyway, our Ruby Tuesday dining experience was just fine, although there was a teenage boy sitting behind me who had BO that about knocked me over. Ah well. Can’t have everything, I s’pose. * * * After I got home from feeding the petstore kitties yesterday I ate breakfast and began cleaning the house – the downstairs portion of it, at least – and when the spud got out of bed and toddled downstairs at the crack of noon, she blinked at me and said “Why are you cleaning?” When it’s such a noteworthy event that my child stops and stares in wonder, it’s possible I’m just not cleaning often enough, ya think? * * * So Nance posted a picture of her desk yesterday and made a comment about what a mess it was. Ha! Amateur! (click on the picture to see the full-sized version) And that was after I’d spent twenty minutes throwing shit away and shredding papers that have been sitting on my desk waiting to be shredded for months now. * * * It’s tough work, being a Bean. Fred’s really enjoying getting right up in the cats’ faces lately. ]]>

* * * Remember this creepy-ass picture from October? Reader Amy sent me another FUCKING creepy picture, a picture that just gives me the heebie-jeebies when I even think about it. ::shudder::

* * * To wipe the horror of that image from your mind, here are some pictures of reader Stub’s (brother’s) adorable new kitten. His name is Poof (hee!) – remind you of anyone? I think I’m starting to like little gray kitties almost as much as I like little orange kitties! * * * Fred keeps hinting – even outright SAYING – that he might accompany me to Maine this summer. This summer or “someday”, anyway. Not because he wants to see where I grew up and the state I love so much, and the ocean that calls to me, but because he wants to climb some damn mountain and fall off the side. When I try to pin him down on whether or not he’ll actually come to Maine this summer, he gets waffly “Oh, I didn’t SAY this summer, did I?” and I get disgusted, and I have decreed that he is no longer welcome in Maine. “You are NOT allowed in Maine!” I informed him. “Yes I am. You can’t keep me out of the entire state!” Please. Who does the man think he’s dealing with? After he bought the kayak earlier this year every time he saw the slightest puddle of water, he’d say “That’s some good kayaking water, there!” over and over and ad infinitum until I wanted to strangle him. Now, every time he sees any kind of mountain, he says “I could go climb that mountain!” And on and on. Yesterday afternoon, he started with the “I could go to Europe and climb mountains while you’re in Maine next week!” Then he got on Expedia and started looking up ticket prices. “We could go to Colorado this summer! We could go to France! We could fly to England and then take a hop over to France, and it would be cheaper! Let’s go to India! Let’s go to Libya! Oh! Let’s go to Honolulu!” “Would you SHUT UP?” I begged. He had the nerve to look wounded. “Honolulu has mountains for me, and beach for you!” “Yes, except that YOU know and I know that we will NEVER go to Honolulu, so STOP FUCKING TRYING TO GET ME EXCITED ABOUT IT.” Today he called and quoted me some amazing price for a 6-night stay in Cancun. Fucker. * * * New movie of the week – this one is of Tubby and the Bean going at it (fighting, that is). I love the part at the end where the Bean jumps on Tubby and then gets pushed off, and Tubby’s laying there, all his legs in the air, bitching and hissing helplessly before he stomps off. Hee! * * * The Bean is in fine form today, picking exclusively on Miz Poo. It might look like the Bean is getting the best of Miz Poo, but it ain’t so. (And that garbage bag is full of paper from the shredder – we don’t usually toss our garbage in the corner of the library. Really!) ]]>

talking to the reporter at C B S about being on “The E@rly Sh0w”, the reporter offered up the idea that I could be part of the segment. “Uh, I don’t think so,” Fred said. “She was pretty adamant about not wanting to be on TV again.” “Well, can I try to sweet-talk her?” the reporter asked. “Maybe I can convince her!” After Fred wiped away the tears of laughter caused by the thought of someone being able to “sweet-talk” me into doing something I really don’t want to do, he said “Okay, I’ll ask her if it’s okay for you to call her.” “Um, no,” I told Fred when he asked. “And not only no, but HELL no, and I’ll be out of the house whenever they come to interview you and tape you exercising and all that goofy-ass shit.” When Fred reported my “HELL no”, the reporter was amazed that there’s someone in existence who’s completely uninterested in being on a national TV show. Well, that would be me – I couldn’t be less interested. Life’s too short to spend time doing things that stress me out for days beforehand not to mention the actual filming. The Bullshit! taping was an interesting experience, but once it was done, I knew for sure that any life where I was required to be filmed on a regular basis is no life for me. I’m perfectly happy being the invisible woman behind the man (and as Nance said, kicking his ass all the way. Heh.). (And by the way, there are two – MAYBE three – people who can change my mind and convince me to do something I’m dead-set against doing. None of them are C B S reporters, and none of them are you. Just in case you thought you could convince me otherwise. 🙂

* * * The kid who asked the spud out, Kelt0n, called her tonight while Fred and I were out returning movies and checking out the Christmas lights in the neighborhood with the huge-ass houses about two miles away. When we got home, she walked up to me, phone pressed to her ear, and mouthed “It’s KELT0N!” When she got off the phone, she told me that they’d decided The Big Date would take place the Friday after school restarted and that it would be a movie. Later, Fred said “She’s sure not all moony-eyed and goony about liking someone the way I was when I was her age.” She’s not moony-eyed and goony, but she’s definitely excited. When she got off the phone she was about bouncing off the walls. All together, now: Awwwww! Fred said “I expect to meet this boy before your date.” “Are you going to do like the guys in Bad Boys 2?” the Spud asked. We watched that movie yesterday afternoon, and there’s a scene where Martin Lawrence and Will Smith answer the door and give the boy who’s coming to pick up Martin Lawrence’s daughter for her first date, and hilarity ensues as they try to scare the bejesus out of the kid. (It was actually pretty funny, that scene. The movie itself could have been cut by about 45 minutes and been a whole lot better, I think.) “No, but I need to clean and polish my gun,” Fred said, and gave her the stinkeye. * * * In my comments yesterday, Louise asked What are you wishing for this Christmas? Aside from the obvious – world peace, becoming queen of the universe, a painful accident that takes away Jonny Fairplay‘s ability to talk or communicate with the world in any way – there’s just really nothing that comes to mind. I mean, yes – of COURSE I want my little yellow Beetle, but that’s not really a Christmas gift, and I know that eventually I’ll get my little yellow Beetle. I want a KitchenAid Mixer, but that’s something I’ll save up for to get. Ditto with the Dyson vacuum and a new camera (though I don’t know what kind, yet). I know that I’m getting stuff off of my wish list from Fred and his father, and I’m perfectly happy with that. The problem is that at this point in my life, if there’s something I really want and it doesn’t cost too much, I buy it (and yes, I’m very lucky that I can). I do like to be surprised, and I’ve been informed that Fred will surprising me when we open our presents on Christmas Eve, so I’m definitely looking forward to that. Of course, if someone wants to buy me the town of Tortilla Flat, Arizona, I wouldn’t complain. * * * The Bean, in attack mode. The Bean, in cute mode. This looks like trouble in the making… I sure do love this cat. Spot loves it when we turn the fire on. ]]>

Ami) THREE THINGS I DON’T UNDERSTAND 1. How computers work (don’t really want to know, either). 2. How it is that I can actually see words going in one ear and out the other when I’m talking to Fred or the spud. 3. How you let the things you did get so out of hand/ You’d have managed better if you’d had a plan/ why’d you choose such a backward time in such a strange land? If you’d come today, you could have reached the whole nation/ Israel in 4 BC had no mass communication/ I only wanna know/ I only wanna know now/ I only wanna know/ I only WANNA know/ Jesus Christ, Superstar, do you think you’re who they say you are? (Done from memory, thank you) THREE THINGS THAT SCARE ME 1. Any kind of bug that moves really fast, especially in my direction. And especially when they have more than four legs. 2. Big dogs that come toward me growling while wagging their big tails. 3. Being old and having to eat dog food to survive. THREE THINGS I’D LIKE TO LEARN 1. How to stay organized (I can get organized, I just can’t stay there). 2. What the hell I’ve done to fuck up our company accounts so that our accounts payable shows that we’re owed $1,000+ that we are certainly not owed. I fear I may have to go back and rebuild the books from the very beginning – on the up side, that’s only about four months of rebuilding and would most likely only take the better part of a weekend if I were truly motivated. 3. How to edit the movies I put up here so that they don’t look so thrown-together and crappy. Actually I don’t want to learn that; I want to already know it. THREE THINGS I AM WEARING RIGHT NOW 1. This shirt, in red. (I know it’s horrifying that I’m wearing a cheap fleece shirt from Lane Bryant, but until I looked at the tag, I thought it was a more expensive shirt from Silhouettes or Ulla Popken) 2. Gray cotton Just My Size pants. 3. Moccasin-style slippers (dark green) from LL Bean. THREE THINGS ON MY DESK 1. Miz Poo 2. The Bean. 3. 63,000 different instruction books for my new cell phone. THREE THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE 1. Sky dive. 2. Hike the Appalachian Trail (shhh, don’t tell Fred!). 3. Be on Survivor 45: South Central LA. THREE GOOD THINGS ABOUT MY PERSONALITY 1. I am occasionally amusing. 2. I’m generally accepting of the freakish idiosyncrasies and beliefs of others. 3. I don’t hold a grudge for longer than 10 or 15 years. THREE BAD THINGS ABOUT MY PERSONALITY 1. I’m a grumpy bitch. 2. I’m impatient. 3. I like peace and quiet and get grouchy when it’s too noisy for too long. THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE 1. Cherokee 2. Scottish 3. English (I think) THREE THINGS I LIKE ABOUT MY BODY 1. My calves. 2. My eyes. 3. My hair (sometimes). THREE THINGS I DON’T LIKE ABOUT MY BODY I’m going to skip this one; I couldn’t possibly limit it to three. THREE THINGS MOST PEOPLE DON’T KNOW ABOUT ME I honestly can’t think of anything on this one. THREE THINGS I SAY THE MOST 1. Fuck them. 2. Fuck you. 3. What the fuck? THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO 1. Alaska. 2. Australia. 3. Scotland. THREE NAMES THAT YOU GO BY 1. Robyn. 2. Bessie. 3. Rob. THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE OR HAD 1. Nybor. 2. Bitchypoo. 3. BessieLou.

* * * Miz Poo loves to hang out on top of the bookcase. If the Bean tries to approach, she can swat him down with one little paw. ]]>