Category: Life

* * * Miz Poo is in for another trip to the vet, poor thing. I noticed Friday that she was constantly grooming herself, and her lip – which had gone down some with the last steroid shot – has puffed up again. I hoped the continual grooming was a one-day thing, but by noon on Saturday it appears that she’s been doing nothing these days but groom and sleep. I think that part of the problem is that last week was so cold that we had the space heater and gas fire going almost constantly, and if she could have actually sat IN the fire, she would.

She spent most of the week sitting under my chair, two inches from the space heater, and surely that’s got to dry a kitty’s skin out. I know that the skin on my legs is pretty dry, so it stands to reason that her skin is as well. Fred went to the pet store yesterday to buy some vitamins with essential fatty acids, and let me tell you – it is NOT fun trying to squirt that stuff down Miz Poo’s throat. Who’d have thought she could fight so hard? Anyway, we’ve got an appointment with the vet later today, me and Miz Poo, so I’ll let y’all know how it goes. * * * And now it’s later! The vet gave Miz Poo a steroid shot (but not before subjecting her to the indignity of having her temperature taken) and prescribed Elavil for her. Elavil is an anti-depressant, and he’s hoping that being on it for a couple of months will break her of the constant-grooming thing. It’s also going to mellow her out, so maybe she won’t go out of her way to smack the other cats upside the head any time they have the nerve to pass by her. * * * This past weekend was absolutely Shield-eriffic. Although I’d thought we’d missed half of the first season, it turned out that we’d only missed the last two shows. We watched those two shows, and then Saturday night went back to the beginning and watched the first four shows. Sunday, I spent a great deal of time looking for information on Jay Karnes, who plays Dutch on the show. Shockingly, the man has almost no online presence whatsoever. I’m nominating me to start up a fansite for him, I think, since most everyone else on the show has a fan page or two. No online presence in the day and age where every Joe Dork has a page? Inconceivable! * * * We watched most of the SuperBowl last night, although I’ll admit that I still don’t know who played. Who the hell watches the SuperBowl for the game? We watch for the commercials! And the Pepsi Twist commercial made it well worth the effort. I thought I was going to pass out, I was laughing so hard. If you haven’t seen it, you can go to the Pepsi page and check it out. I love me some Ozzy.]]>

Friday Five. 1. What is one thing you don’t like about your body? My stomach. 2. What are two things you love about your body? My eyes and my calves. 3. What are three things you want to change about your home? 1. I hate that we only have one heating/ air conditioning unit, and the control is by the stairs, so that when it’s freezing downstairs in the winter, it’s sweltering upstairs, and when it’s hot as hell downstairs in the summer, it’s freezing upstairs. 2. I wish we had a screened-in sunporch in the back. 3. I wish there was a door between the computer room and the dining room, so that the cold air coming in through the cat door in the dining room couldn’t make its way into the computer room. 4. What are four books you want to read this year? Oh, let me think. I want to read an F. Paul Wilson “Repairman Jack” book, since according to Fred they kick ass. I want to re-read To Kill a Mockingbird, Good in Bed, and On Writing. 5.What are five promises you have kept to yourself? That I would never harass my child about her weight or what she eats. That I would divorce my first husband. That I would get my ass back on the eat-right-and-exercise wagon. That I would start deleting emails that annoy me instead of responding to them (for the most part I’ve kept this promise).

* * * Speaking of email, possibly the quickest way to get your email to me flung into the trash folder is to begin it with “To whom it ever it may concern, I didn’t really get your name” and then go on to say “was it alot of money you put out on this traning?and did it work?” See, if you can’t be bothered to look at the email address that your email is going to, and note that it’s going to ROBYN at hiwaay dot net, then I should help you out why, exactly? And further, if you can’t be less vague about “this training”, then why would I go out of my way to figure out what the fuck you’re asking? And even more, if you can’t be bothered to look through the site to SEE if “did it work?”, then why the fuck is the site there in the first place? Anyone? Jesus. * * * I’m certain that one of these days when I slam my poor pinky toe into something, it’s going to go bouncing across the room, where one of the cats – most likely Tubby – will snatch it up and eat it, after playing with it for a little while. I swear, I have no control over my body sometimes. These days, I chew gum a lot, and I’ll be minding my own business, chomping away, and ALL OF A FRIGGIN’ SUDDEN my lip will get in the way, and I’ll bite down on it hard enough to make it bleed, and then go reeling around the room, swearing loudly. Same with my feet. I’ll be walking along, and suddenly my foot FLIES out and slams into the nearest object, making my pinky toe throb and ache for the rest of the day. This morning, I was stepping into the shower, as I do 7, maybe 8, days a week. My pinky toe went slamming into the shower door, and I screamed and swore and then thanked god that Fred wasn’t around, because he would have been laughing his ass off, the bastard. I’m sorry, pinky toe. I really am. * * * Reader Louise asks: What ever happened to your sister’s fiance? I assume he’s still living and thriving. He and my sister broke up some time ago. I won’t go into details in honor of her privacy, but I will say that I think she’s way better off without him. Good riddance! (I can rest easy saying that, knowing that he doesn’t read this journal, because he told my sister that he doesn’t. He has no interest in cat pictures, he said. He’s far too busy spending his time harassing someone who used to love him and wishes he’d go the hell away. Loser.) Have a burning question you’d like answered? Ask!]]>

Yep. READY FOR SPRING!

* * * One of the truest truths in life is that if you’ve spent a week putting off getting gas because you “don’t feel like stopping” because “it’s 48 degrees! Brrr!”, the morning that you wake up and it’s BELOW ZERO out is the day you have no choice but to get gas, or you won’t make it to your destination and home again. And when you stop to get gas, the wind will be just right so that the instant you step out of your car, you’ll get a face full of cold, cold snow. Serves you right. * * * Ah, me. Let’s see what the FAQ fairy has in store, shall we? From reader Cecpet: Do you get bored not working and staying at home? I have to say that honestly, I very, very rarely get bored. I spend less time in front of my computer recently than I used to, but there’s always something to do – housework, errands, reading, messing with the cats. On the rare occasion that I get bored, it doesn’t usually last for long, because like I said – there’s always something to do. Housework just unfortunately comes last on that list. 🙂 When I was working, I got bored far more often than I ever do at home. Of course, I couldn’t strip down and climb into bed at the office if I was feeling sleepy, either… From reader Lorraine: Do you like being a homemaker? Have you thought about pursuing a career other than shopping, reading, and ass-sitting? Like writing, perhaps? I like staying at home – I don’t know that I’d consider myself a homemaker. I think of a homemaker as someone who does more housework than I do. Hee! I would love to pursue a career, but I have NO idea what I want to be when I grow up, seriously. Nothing’s appealing to me, I can’t imagine what I’d want to pursue, but I’m open to suggestions. I have an idea for a novel bouncing around in my head – where it’s been bouncing for some time – but I’m having some problems getting it down on paper. I think it just needs to bounce around a bit more before it settles down and is ready to be written. From reader Krissy: Do you ever think you’ll go back to work? If circumstances required it, I would. I have no desire to go back to work right now, but I DO keep an eye on the help wanted ads, so you never know! From reader Denise: I’ve read where you refer to the fact that you used to work with Fred at his office. What did you do there and why did you stop working there? I was the office manager for the company Fred started with two other men in ’97. I did the books, the ordering, the making sure there was enough soda in the fridge, and for a while I went in every weekend and cleaned until they hired a cleaning company. I stopped working there for two reasons – one, because I’d finally paid off the huge credit card bills I’d brought with me when I moved to Alabama. Two, I had a bit of a – shall we say – constant personality clash with one of the other partners who felt I was there to run personal errands for him, which pissed Fred off, so Fred and I decided life would be far easier if I didn’t work there anymore. And we were right, it’s way better. From reader Connie: When you worked at Fred’s office, something happened there that was bad ( I think) you said when you were able to tell us you would, I think it was with an office girl or something, so what ever happened? I still can’t say, lest the person who did the bad thing stumble across this site and decide to sue me. I can tell you that this person is who they hired to do my old job as Office Manager. You can read the description of what the job entailed in the answer above, and imagine what the worst thing someone doing that job could do, and you’d probably be right. From reader Karen: Why don’t you hold a job? If you did, what would your dream job be? I don’t hold a job ’cause I don’t gotta. (And for the record, I’ve asked repeatedly, and Fred is fine with my not working. I don’t know what he’d do if I had a job where we couldn’t call and email back and forth all day!) I don’t know what my dream job would be – kitty wrangler? I’d like to say someone who sits and reads all day and writes reviews, but I’ve never been good at reviewing books. Maybe Twinkie taster? That sounds pervy, doesn’t it? It sounds like a job in the porn industry! Anyway, like I said above. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. When I was a kid, I said that my dream job was one where I could sit and take calls all day and not have to deal with people face-to-face. When I got a job like that, taking orders at LL Bean, I don’t know which went numb faster – my brain, or my ass. From reader Trevor: What does Fred do for work? I know he has his own company, but I don’t know what he does. He’s a software-writing geek. His company does contract work for a government agency. I could tell you more, but I’d have to kill you. Reader Louise asks: How come you never talk about that guy your hubby works with? It was hilarious hearing about him. Ah, yes. Longtime readers will remember Tex. I no longer write about Tex – and took those entries down – because Tex found Fred’s site, and called him to give him hell about something he’d said about Tex. Fred, worried that Tex would find my site, asked me to take all references to Tex out of my journal, so I did. Tex is a big cry-baby, and would have had all kinds of temper tantrums if he’d found those entries. I have those entries in a safe place, though, and should I ever get my ass in gear and start working on that novel that’s bouncing around in my head, there will be plenty of Tex in the story to entertain and disturb. Have a burning question you’d like answered? Ask!]]>

* * * Thanks this morning go to Athena, who sent me the first season of The Shield on DVD for my birthday! I cannot wait to start watching it, because we missed about half the season, and there are things they occasionally refer to that we don’t get. Every single time we watch the show, we’re blown away. Last night, I said “I think my second favorite character is -” “Teeth?” Fred guessed. We couldn’t remember his name during the first season, so started referring to him as “Teeth”. For obvious reasons. “No,” I said. “Dutch. He’s such a sweetheart. If I had a crime that needed to be solved, I’d want Dutch on the case.” Fred agreed. Thanks this morning (although now it’s actually afternoon. I bet you never guessed that I don’t sit down and write my entries all at once, huh?) to Jolene, who sent me Great Big Beautiful Doll for my birthday. That’s right, I had a book about Anna Nicole Smith on my wish list. After looking through the pictures in the book, I am anticipating a HUGE cheesefest, and I’m definitely looking forward to it. And last (though certainly not least), thanks go to reader Micki in SC, who sent me some stuff from the college where she works – post-its and magnets and bookmarks, oh my! She also sent three yellow balls, which are cute as hell, but which the cats claimed for themselves, so I can’t show you a picture of them. But I will reclaim them one of these days, yes I will, for they are MINE. Thanks, Micki! Speaking of gifts, these days I’m having a battle of wills with the Tubbyman, who is bound and determined to lay his ass on the afghan Nance knitted (knat?) for me. And is he interested in laying on the part where his white hair would blend in with the yellow? Of course not. No, he MUST lay on the blue part, so that you can see the pile of shedded (shad?) hair he leaves behind. Little bastard.

* * * No FAQ questions today. I frittered away the morning cleaning the (nasty as hell) kitchen floor and dusting and the like, and Dr. Phil is about to come on, so I’m going to put this entry up and call it good enough. But fret not. I’ll get to all the FAQ questions sooner or later, I promise!]]>

Moira sent me a Barbie Beetle for my birthday! I am stylin’ and cool, I am. The trunk opens with a key, and there’s a keychain and a little suitcase and everything. I’ll have to dig one of the Spud’s Barbies out of storage, dress her up, and push her around. I’d love to get Miz Poo in it, but her ass is just a TAD too big. I’ll have to settle for freaking her out by pushing it toward her. Moira rocks!

* * * Let’s get to the FAQ questions, shall we? Reader Joan asks: I find your journal interesting and enjoyable . . . and now, of course, the inevitable “but”, why do you find it necessary to use foul language so incredibly often? Yes, I know you’ve said if (to paraphrase) “you’re offended, no one is forcing you to read this…” sometimes, it appears as though you’re forcing yourself to talk/write this way. Do you talk like this around your daughter? Just curious. Thanks Oh, this question makes me so tired. I get it at least once a week, and usually I discard the question, but since it is asked so often, I might as well answer it instead of thinking “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out!” I use foul language for various reasons. When I’m mad, when I’m annoyed, when I want to make a point, when I’m having fun with it. Sometimes I don’t even notice the bad words, and if I did, I probably wouldn’t think twice about them. I guess I use foul language because I can, and if it bothers you, well, don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. Seriously, if the language bothers you (“you” in the general sense, not “you” in the directed at reader Joan sense), there’s no reason in the world to be reading my journal – there are thousands of them out there, and I’m certain that lots of them wouldn’t dream of swearing. As for forcing myself to write this way, no. I’ve never put a “fuck” or “goddamn” where I didn’t fully believe it belonged. The most recent fuck-filled entry – 34 uses of the various forms of “fuck!” – started out as a fairly sedate rant, but I got started with the fucks, and was enjoying myself so much that, well, you see where it led. Do I talk this way around the spud? I’ll quote from an email I sent to Jolene on Friday: Well, yeah, if I get all pissed off about something I might, but it’s never directed AT her. What’m I going to say, “Spud, eat your fucking cereal and pick up your fucking clothes, or I’ll toss them out the fucking window!” ? Swear around her? Yes. AT her? No. And when I say “Can you believe that fucking idiot fucking cut me off? Asshole!”, she thinks it’s funny as, well, fuck. And for the record, in real life I don’t generally swear around people I don’t know. In fact, the only people I swear around in real life these days are Fred, the Spud, Debbie, and Liz. So if you meet me in person and expect a “Mighty fucking fine to meet you, fuckface!”, you’ll likely be disappointed. I’ll probably be thinking it, though. (Back to FAQ page) * * * From Jolene: Are you ever going to print the cussing disclaimer on your page in 72 point font so that the FUCKING people who keep FUCKING asking you about your FUCKING language will finally FUCKING get it? I can’t believe you still have people fucking asking you about fucking that. Damn fuckers. I’ve considered it, but it would mess up my layout. Hee! * * * From reader Connie: We already know you’re intelligent and witty. Do you hold any degrees? ::blush:: You just say that ’cause you covet my cool Barbie Beetle. I don’t hold any degrees, though I do have about 60 credits from classes I took at New Hampshire College and the University of Southern Maine in the early and mid 1990s. I was planning to get at the very least an Associates degree at the local community college when I first moved down here, even got as far as applying, but every time I seriously consider going back to school, I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’ve always hated school with a passion, which is probably why once I graduated from high school I never went to school for more than two semesters at a time. I may reconsider in the future, but at the moment I have no school plans. (Back to FAQ page) Have a burning question you’d love to have answered? Let me know!]]>

* * * So, we watched The Golden Globes last night. Was it the Golden Globes? It wasn’t the Emmys, and it wasn’t the Oscars, so I think it was the Golden Globes. You know, the one with the categories like “Best Actress in a Comedy, Drama, or Action, Between the Ages of 16 and 44, Blondes Only.” Here’s the thing with award shows. Most of the time, there’s a celeb or two that you look at and shake your head, and say “Oh, that was an unfortunate choice”. Of course, that’s just your opinion, and sometimes it’s shared by many people, and sometimes everyone else thinks they looked great. And then, my friends. And then there are the celebs who come out, and you say “Holy crap. Someone dared them to wear that! That HAD to be a dare!” I present to you the star I said that about last night (and I’m sure you won’t be surprised at ALL):

Come on. SURELY someone dared her to wear that, don’t you think? And doesn’t she bear a striking resemblance to Susan Lucci? It’s Lara Flynn Boyle, in case you can’t tell. The wins Fred and I were most excited about? The ones for The Shield, of course. Every time we watch that show, we say “It’s SUCH a damn show!” And it is. * * * While we were watching the show, we started talking about Daniel Day Lewis. Fred doesn’t care for him, and in fact hasn’t seen any of his movies. “Not even the indian movie? What was it, Dances with Wolves?” “The Last of the Mohicans,” he corrected me. “No, I’ve never seen that.” I pondered for a moment. “What was the name of that movie he did, the first one I heard of him in? My Left Foot?” “No,” Fred announced with certainty. “That was My Two Left Feet.” I fell on the floor, I was laughing so hard. Sure that he was right, he went into the computer room to look on imdb.com, and came back, smiling. “It is My Left Foot,” he said with surprise. “I thought it was about some crippled guy in a wheelchair, and it was My Two Left Feet, because he couldn’t walk…” That just set me off into a fresh gale of laughter, and it was some time before I could get myself under control again. “It’s ABOUT a guy with cerebral palsy, who can only control his left foot,” I told him. “My Left Foot is a heart-warming drama. My Two Left Feet would be a comedy!” For the rest of the evening, every time I thought of My Two Left Feet, I laughed my ass off. Memories like that only come around so often, y’know. * * * This is what Fancypants does when Fred gets out the catnip. He swishes back and forth, then starts stretching alluringly. We took this really big Amazon box, cut a hole in it, and stuck a cat pillow in there. After a few weeks, the only one who really hangs out in there is Spanky, but he sure looks happy, doesn’t he? Spanky always looks like he has the hardest time waking up. Tubby, right before he started meowing bitchily at me. Miz Poo, guarding the top of the stairs. Spanky looks like he just melted off that pillow, doesn’t he? ]]>

A Day in the Life of Spot J. And3rson 8 am. Hiding from everyone under the bed. 9 am. Hanging out on top of the bed. 10 am. Bathtime. 12 noon. Time for lunch! 1 pm. Zzzzzz…. 2:30 pm. Hanging out in the junk box. Looks mighty comfy, no? 3:30 pm. After a quick trip outside and the discovery that it’s TOO DAMN COLD out there, heads back upstairs. 4 pm. ::Snore:: 5 pm. If you wait long enough, the sun rays come to you… 7 pm. Hanging out in the living room, keeping a wary eye on everyone else. 8 pm. Back on the bed, wondering how many times he’s going to see that flash today. 9 pm. Partaking of some organic catnip (aka Kitty Pot). 10 pm. Still a tad high. Trying to decide if Fancypants needs some lovin’, or an ass-kickin’.]]>

Pretty color, though. I had hopes of trying to shrink it, but it’s made of acrylic, so I doubt that’ll pan out. Better to just exchange it, I suppose.

* * * I got an unexpected check in the mail today – a refund of the co-pay I paid when I took the spud to the emergency room on Christmas night. Apparently there is no co-pay for emergency room visits on our insurance plan. Who knew? * * * I got a couple of emails with “FAQ” in the subject. They’re not really questions I’ve ever been asked before, so I won’t include them in the FAQ, but I will answer them here, since there’s not really any excitement going on around here today (except that I’ll be taking the spud to Applebee’s for dinner. Yay!). Reader Laura asks: If you do have another child, will you tell us its name? Or call it Spud 2? I have no idea. We’d probably come up with a nickname for it, though I don’t think it would be Spud 2! And another reader Laura asks: I could swear that you said that you would like to hike the Appalachian trail, and that Fred wasn’t into all that outdoorsy stuff, but now with Fred’s hiking to geocaches, and you not having too much fun with that, I am wondering if I’m mistaken. I did say that, actually. I said that right after I’d read A Walk in the Woods, by Bill Bryson, because he has a real knack for making you want to do what he’s done. I would still like to hike the Appalachian trail, although I don’t know that I’d want to try to do it all at once, maybe do a section at a time. It would be awesome to do the whole trail, a section at a time, over the course of several years. I don’t know why I’m not interested in geocaching the way Fred is – maybe because he’s in far better shape than I am, and I feel like hiking with him would be a matter of him having to slow waaaay down so he didn’t lose me. Or maybe because it’s been cold as hell. Or maybe because my idea of a nice Sunday hike involves no mud or huge hills, but rather a nice gravelled or paved path that you can wander down and admire the chipmunks and squirrels. Fred does have a way of eventually sucking me into his interests, though, so you never know what could happen! And lastly, reader Jeannine asks: So you’re not married? Yep, we’ve been married since October 31, 1998 and together for 6 1/2 years. And they said it’d never last. FAQ questions I hope to get to over the course of the next few weeks include: * Why do you refer to your daughter as only the Spud. * Would you or are you considering Weight Loss Surgery? * What did you do when you worked at Fred’s office, and why did you stop working there?/ Do you ever think you’ll go back to work? / Do you like being a homemaker? Have you thought about pursuing a career other than shopping, reading, and ass-sitting? Like writing, perhaps?/ Do you get bored not working and staying at home? / * Has anyone in your real life spoken about your journal/site/etc.? How does your daughter feel about having her life written about? * Didn’t you go to the doctor and discover that you had a thyroid problem? What ever happened with that? * How did you and Fred meet? * Do you hold any degrees? * Why do you find it necessary to use foul language so incredibly often? Sometimes, it appears as though you’re forcing yourself to talk/write this way. Do you talk like this around your daughter? * Where do you get motivated to get up every day and do your exercise? and is it a struggle for you or has it become part of your daily routine? * What reason did you give your parents for moving out of state to Alabama? I know you were a grown adult but I always wondered how come they never thought there was a ‘Fred’ when you moved. If you have a burning question you’d love to have answered and it isn’t included in the list above, let me know! Y’all have a great weekend!]]>

* * * Fred had a little touch-up plastic surgery in the doctor’s office yesterday. He had to take both Ativan and Demerol an hour before his appointment. When I pulled into the parking lot behind his office, I called to let him know I was there. I don’t actually go into that office unless I have to. “Hey, druggie!” I said. “Are you high?” He claimed not to be, but his words came a little slower than they usually do. When he came out the door, he was moving a little slower, too. “You’re hiiiiiiiigh! You’re hiiiiiiiiiigh!” I crowed as he got into the car. “No, I feel fine,” he slurred. Once we were home a few hours later, he ate lunch, worked on a story for a little while, and then crashed on the loveseat, with the fire going full blast. The cats started joining him, and by the time half an hour had passed, it was toasty warm in the living room, and there were cats sprawled out all over the place.

Tubby loooooves his daddy. Even I have to admit that Tubby’s mighty damn cute when he does stuff like this. The doctor told me before we left his office not to be surprised if Fred couldn’t remember half the day, due to the drugs. I don’t know how much he remembers today, but I do know that there were MANY things that he repeated. I think I said “That’s the third time you’ve told me that!” several times. And on the way home, he recounted, word-for-word a conversation he, his doctor, and I had had, only he substituted the nurse for me, and had her saying what I’d said. Thank god he doesn’t have to take THAT particular combination of drugs too often, because I’d be constantly annoyed. Not that I’m not already.]]>

Why does Fred call you “Bessie?” It’s funny – when I first moved to Alabama, he actually called his computer and his car “Bessie” because, as he told me, that’s what he called his favorite things. It was kind of a default name for things he liked. Slowly, over the course of the next few years, he started calling me Bessie, saying “Because you’re my favorite favorite thing!” And ever since, the computer and car are no longer Bessie, and I am. I wasn’t sure whether I cared for the nickname at first, but I’ve grown to really like it. Also, his grandparents were named Fred and Bessie, so it’s sort of an homage to them. (Back to FAQ page) Reader Laurie asks: Do you know anything more about the TV shot that you guys did a month or so ago? When/where is it going to air, etc.? Those of you new to the journal can go read the whole story about the TV shoot in my diet journal, starting here. It was for Bullshit!, which will be premiering January 24th on Showtime, but we’re apparently not in the first show – that one’s about “Talking to the Dead” – and we’ve heard nothing from the assistant producer who set it up. We’ll keep y’all informed, though. (Back to FAQ page) Okay, that’s it for today, folks. Think happy thoughts for me at 3:15 central time, won’t you?]]>