Category: Life

So, now that we’re ten weeks or so into the new year, I finally sat my ass down last night and cleaned out the files in my desk drawer. I file things like receipts and utility bills and credit card statements in my lower left-hand desk drawer, and the idea is that at the end of the year, I’ll stick the stuff we need to keep (like credit card statements and utility bills) into a folder labelled with the year, and toss what doesn’t need to be saved (receipts from the grocery store. I believe I had a notion to save all grocery store receipts and then figure out where we could save money. I never actually got around to doing that, but I saved about two months’ worth of receipts).

After I cleaned that out, I looked through the big filing cabinet and went through it. And I found many things that made me laugh, which I now present to you.

Who does she remind you of?

Hee! Fred used to have one of those Far Side calendars with a separate sheet for each day. This one cracked us both up.

In a huge, stuffed folder, I found pictures that the spud had drawn for me, and stuff she’d brought home from school. Here’s a picture she drew shortly after we moved to Alabama.

She made a book for me, entitled A Book of Important Things and People. Inside the book:

"This little girl just went swimming in a pond."
I love the very coy way the girl is holding her finger up to cover her lips. Is she telling us to be quiet? Is she thinking of the goings-on that, uh, went on while she was swimming in the pond?

"This catapiller is looking for food for her youngs."
Food for her youngs! Hee! I laughed ’til I snorted when I saw that. Cute as hell, isn’t it?

I also found some of my love letters (emails) to Fred, back in our courtin’ days.

Remember when you told me last night that you’ve watched me sleep? Ages ago, when Untamed Heart came out, and Christian Slater was watching Marisa Tomei sleep, I said to Debbie, "How come I can’t find a man who’s so in love with me he’d sit and watch me sleep?" Freaky, huh? I love you, Christian. 🙂
PS: Debbie said "’Cause the drool puddle drives them away."
PPS: Well, she didn’t really say that, but I would have. 🙂

In a folder I labelled "To write", which was full of goofy story ideas, I found a small piece of paper with notes I’d scribbled while I was working at LL Bean’s. I’m not sure what I was planning to do with those notes, but I sounded very academic in them.

"I’m sorry" —> "That’s okay" – Humans conditioned to niceness? Are they hanging up and swearing at their spouses ’cause the item is backordered?

"Um…I don’t have the item #" — humans conditioned to helplessness? Am I supposed to be their mother?

Dither, dither – I haven’t a clue what I want, so please tell me.

"In a hurry" — People who are so rushed, you’re lucky to pry their billing information from them, let alone the fucking LL# (The LL# is the number on the back of your catalog near your name and address that the marketing people use to figure out how they got your name and address)

I don’t know which goes numb faster – my brain or my ass.

The beginning of a story I started writing and never finished:

I’m pissed. Way pissed. Majorly pissed. Not just, y’know, a little mad or a touch upset. I am wicked fuckin’ pissed off. In fact, I woke up that way, and now here I lay, grinding my teeth and glaring at the wall.

In his bowl on the table next to my bed my Betta fish who has no name is swishing back and forth. Every time he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror next to his bowl, he puffs up, ready to kill. Swish, puff, swish, deflate. He eyeballs me for a second then resumes swishing and puffing.

My cousin Janie, who at the age of twenty-seven is still living with us, is blasting her Brady Bunch cd.

If there is a hell, it no doubt involves the Brady kids singing "American Pie."

The fish gives me a look, like Do something!, and I decide I’ve had it. She started playing the damn thing at seven, which means I’ve had a whopping two hours of sleep. I’m not a happy camper.

I toss back the covers and stomp into the living room. Janie’s sitting on the couch, singing loudly and reading a ten-thousand page Psychology textbook. Nerd.

"Nice shirt," she goes in her usual laid-back drawl. I’m wearing an old Ugly Kid Joe t-shirt, and she loathes the band. I loathe the Brady Bunch. Musically, that is; until the age of nine, it was my goal to become Mrs. Peter Brady.

Without a word, I pop the cd out of the player, frisbee it at her, and stumble back to bed.

Remember back in November when I wrote about Brady James and her cousins Jimmy and Janie? Yeah, well, apparently I forgot about Jenny, who’s 19 and sells term papers to the local high school kids. The higher the grade you want, the more she charges for the paper.

This, of course, was written back before the internet was big and you could steal a well-written paper from lots of places online with barely any effort at all.

The funny thing is that both Janie and Jenny are very much me – I had a Betta on my bedside table. I had the Brady Bunch cd (and yes, they did sing American Pie, and it was BAD, and I don’t mean bad in a good way). I have the Ugly Kid Joe t-shirt, with the guy on the front with tape over his mouth and his middle finger bandaged, and "Censorship sucks" (or something similar) on the back. I can’t, for the life of me, remember what the hell Ugly Kid Joe ever sang, though. I’m sure they had one semi-hit that caught my attention before they faded back into obscurity. (I just looked it up – they remade Cats in the Cradle) The psych textbook? Mine.

I guess I was writing what I knew.

I found my small file of rejection letters, one of which was from Nicky Weinstock, who worked for Peter Gethers at Villard Books. I found my synopsis for the "novel" I wrote ten years ago, which does NOT stand up well over time, believe you me. The synopsis? Ten pages long. God in heaven.

I found a buttload of pictures of the spud from grades kindergarten through fourth (so THAT’s where those pictures went!)

I stayed up, in fact, until 1 am reading things I’d forgotten I ever wrote, or ever had. I had a pretty good time. Next, I suppose I’ll have to clean out my desk drawers.

Wonder what I’ll find hidden in there?

 

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My god, am I a dumbass. I totally meant to link to this yesterday, but completely forgot.

I have my own stalker! With a graphic and everything! That Nance just cracks me up – and you don’t get to see how funny she is, ’cause YOU don’t have the password! Nyah, nyah, nyah!

Last night, as I was preparing dinner and the spud was reading a magazine at the table (while Dr. Phil was on Oprah talking to a mother and her 14 year-old daughter – the 14 year-old daughter is not only dating, but has a steady boyfriend):

Me: Luckily, WE won’t have that problem, because YOU are not allowed to date until you’re sixteen.

Spud: (nodding) I know. (How she knows this, I have no idea, because I don’t think I’ve ever told her before) Thirteen is too young to be dating!

Me: That’s right. But I bet some of your friends are already dating, aren’t they?

Spud: Yes. Becca dates. She only likes boys who are CUTE, though.

That’s a big ol’ "duh" statement right there, isn’t it? The kicker was that she said it in an obviously disapproving tone. I had no idea what to say – "Well, of COURSE you’re only going to date someone you think is cute!"? Then I’m anti-ugly. I ended up just nodding and smiling.

On the TMS discussion list I belong to, we were recently talking about how if you know someone online, but don’t know what they look like, you automatically assume they’re good-looking, skinny, smart, and way WAY cooler than you are. Which got me to thinking about how I’m slightly embarrassed about the fact that I read best-sellers and mysteries, and nothing at all in the way of Grate Lit-tra-tyurre (TM Nicole). You’ll never find me belonging to a book club, where everyone gets together and discusses the book they all just read, because I want to read the book, enjoy it while I’m reading it, and then move on to another good book. Some books move me, and I wish that some books would never end, and I’ve been known to finish reading a book and toss it across the room in disgust.

But if I were to join a book club, someone would say "Wasn’t it just grand, the subtext in the meeting between Roland and Susan, the way his manners touched her?", and they would take a sip of wine, and I’d say "Yeah, Mayor Thorin wants to touch her all right! Heh heh heh m heh heh heh.", and I’d get my ass tossed out.

Hmm. Where was I going with this?

Oh yeah. So, thinking about my shallow, pedestrian reading tastes made me, in turn, think about when I was a Sophomore in high school, and I checked The Gulag Archipelago out from the library, because I just KNEW my sociology teacher would be mightily impressed that I was reading it. And he was – I think his eyes bugged out when he saw me hauling it around.

I only ever read about two pages of it, though.

Moving on…

So, over the weekend, Fred felt the urge to get the good catnip out of the cupboard and sprinkle it on the stairs for the cats.

After ten or fifteen minutes of rubbing and purring and getting high, they eventually scattered, and Miz Poo collapsed on the rug in front of the front door in a drugged-out heap.

Someone once upon a time wrote an entry about how fun it is to scare the hell out of her kid (in a fun, popping-out-of-nowhere way, not a waving-a-gun-around way). Fred agrees with this train of thought, and he takes every opportunity he can to startle the hell out of the spud and make her scream. Last night, he hid in her bathroom and waited for her to come out of her room (she comes and says goodnight to us every night at 9). When she came to the door of the bedroom, she said goodnight to me and asked where he was. I told her he was downstairs and would be back up in a minute.

She turned away, and he was standing directly behind her. From the bed, I saw her lift straight up AT LEAST 6 inches off the floor as she saw him, much in the way a startled cat will just jump straight up into the air without moving any muscles. My god, I was laughing so hard I cried. I wish like hell I’d been filming it, because I’ve never seen anyone lift up that completely.

Ah. Scaring the kid – good times!

 

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funktuation. He went on to point out that he himself had recently left a funktuation mark in his underwear. Much laughter ensued. (Any resemblance to persons living or dead are completely coincidental. I don’t fart.)

* * * So, I had my hair colored and trimmed this morning (Pardon the doofy expression. And Miz Poo is looking up at the light, not writhing in pain, despite appearances to the contrary.) and when I left there, I went to rent movies (The One, A.I., and The Last Castle). Tuesdays, in case you didn’t know, (and I’m sure I’ve only mentioned it 45,000 times) are when the new releases are, uh, released, and so I go rent whatever’s new that we want to see, and since they’re not due back ’til Sunday, we have until then to watch them – and we usually do. Anyway. So I was the only one in the store, and when I went to check out, the movie guy started chatting with me, as movie guys do. I thought it was just idle chatter to fill the silence while he was ringing up my sale, but after he gave me my change back, he launched into this very long dissertation on how usually they get the new movies about a week before they’re due on the shelf, and during that week, the employees are able to bring them home and watch them, but this time, the new movies didn’t arrive at the store until yesterday, and they’re not allowed to take them out the night before, because they have to be on the shelves, and it would probably be two weeks before he could watch any of them. The entire time he was talking, he was staring very intently at me, giving me the puppydog eyes. I think he was flirting with me, but y’know what? I don’t know, because my flirt-o-meter is very badly out of practice. This is where y’all come in. Vote on it!

Flirting? Not flirting?

Was Movie Guy flirting with me? Of course You wish I have no idea. No, but *I* want you. Current Results

Not that it’s important or anything, but a gal likes to know when she’s being flirted with by a kid in his mid-twenties, with a beard and mustache and a plastic earring. For the ego boost, you understand. ]]>

Himself‘s site about my death or the death of a near-and-dear one, then you can pretty much be guaranteed that I wanted to take the week off for the hell of it. My claim was that I was taking the week off to get caught up on email and get my desk area organized. Which I didn’t. I did get a lot of reading done, though, so it’s all good. I’m mostly caught up on the email (I did a lot of emailing over the weekend), and I’m vowing to not let it get so backed up ever again. Ha. So, remember back in January when I was jealously coveting Lis’s scaredy mug? Well, the spud and I went out for some not-great, not-bad chinese food Friday night, and as we walked out of the restaurant, I realized that if I tried to sit down without walking around and letting my food digest, I would likely hurl, or fall asleep on the drive home. “Want to check out the dollar store?” I asked the spud. It was that, or the incredibly-overpriced antique store, and I wasn’t up for spending six zillion bucks on an antique postcard. Or being followed around by an ultra-helpful salesclerk. The spud was up for the dollar store, of course, so in we went. I wasn’t two feet inside the door when I saw them. You just can’t fight with the power of the bitchypoo. I wanted it, and the universe made sure to put it in my path. A dollar a mug – what a bargain! I love the dollar store. Poor Spanky. No matter where he goes, Fancypants just has to follow and sit too close, looking all fancy and fluffy and annoying the hell out of Spanky. Spanky will be sitting happily on the back of the couch, and sooner or later, Fancypants comes swishing up and sits down as close as possible. A few weeks ago Fancypants did just that, and Spanky sat there looked disgusted until he couldn’t stand it any longer, and then he jumped over to the kitchen table and sat there for, I kid you not, at least fifteen minutes sending hate rays directly into Fancypants’ brain. The other day, Spanky was laying amongst the extension cords in the computer room, minding his own business, snoozing, when Fancypants had to come invade his space. Spanky sat there looking disgusted for several minutes before running away. Something on the floor? Sit on it. (Okay, that picture doesn’t really follow the rules of “see something on the floor? sit on it”, since technically (yes, I made up these rules myself) it doesn’t count if they’re sitting on something that belongs on the floor, such as a rug, but the picture cracks me up, ’cause Miz Poo looks drugged in a big way) 1. What’s your favorite vacation spot? We rather like Gatlinburg, and we’ll be going back in a few months. I also really liked Florida – Fred and I went five years ago for the 4th of July, while the spud was in Maine. I’ve been trying to drag him back ever since. Maybe this summer… 2. Where do you consider to be the biggest hell-hole on earth? The Atlanta airport, though their gift shops are nice (though pricey as hell, as befits an airport gift shop). 3. What would be your dream vacation? I’d love to go to the Bahamas or Scotland. Or hell, a trip across Europe works for me. My friend Liz wants me to go to England with her next year, and that would be cool. Basically, ANYWHERE would be nice, except for maybe the Middle East. 4. If you could go on a road-trip with anyone, who would it be and why? Debbie, since I know we’re compatible when driving long distances in the car We could drive to Michigan and pick up Moira! (Actually, Fred popped into my mind, but how sad and pathetic would it be to pick my husband?) 5. What are your plans for this weekend? A little exercising, a little cleaning, a little napping, and plenty of sitting on my ass. Mission accomplished! I am currently experiencing the hots for Ronan Keating from Boyzone. Oh, baybeeeeeeeee. (You just shut up) ]]>

Don’t Say A Word to watch this weekend. Hearing whatsherface sing "I’ll never te-ell" just gives me the creeps. I hope it’s a good movie (and if it’s not, don’t tell me. Let me be surprised). I also rented Dinner with Friends and O. I watched Dinner with Friends Wednesday, and can I just say that Andie MacDowell just gets all over my nerves? I’ve never been a big fan, but I found her tolerable throughout Three Four Weddings and a Funeral, Multiplicity, The Muse, and almost even liked her in Green Card, but while watching this movie, I just wanted to smack her. I’m thinking it might be the realization that she’s not actually acting, since she plays the same character in every damn movie – she sounds and acts exactly the same. Don’t believe me? Watch Groundhog Day and The Muse and tell me she’s not the same damn character in both. I rented O because I sure do like that Julia Stiles, though I got my Shakespeare characters mixed up when I was telling Fred about the movie. "She plays Ophelia!" I insisted. "Ophelia is in Hamlet," Fred said. "He used her in both Hamlet and Othello?" "Yes!" I said insistently. "He did!" Of course he didn’t believe me, so he had to go look on IMDB and find out that Julia Stiles is playing Desdemona, not Ophelia. Oh. Well, that’s a natural mistake, since I’ve never actually read either Hamlet or Othello. I can quote some of Puck’s final monologue from A Midsummer’s Night Dream, though, does that count? If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended; that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear… (and then something about a weak and idle theme something something ’bout a dream.. Or something). Give me your hands if we be friends; and Robin shall restore amends. Not bad, since it’s been ten years or so since I read the play, eh? Alright, enough about that. 1. Hey, baby, what’s your sign? Do you think it fits you pretty well? A Capricorn, and no, I don’t think it does. Capricorns are supposed to be practical and serious and wise, well-organized, and achievement-oriented, and I’m not really any of those. 2. What’s the worst birthday gift you’ve ever received? I’d say the 8 years I didn’t get anything from the ex for my birthday (not even a "happy birthday!") all tie for first place. 3. What’s the best birthday gift you’ve ever received? Finding out I was pregnant with the spud when I had just turned 19. 4. What’s the best way you’ve celebrated your birthday thus far? Getting a thousand birthday wishes from you wonderful readers and friends these past two years would certainly qualify, I think. 5. What are your plans for this weekend? I need to watch O at some point, vacuum the upstairs and downstairs, and do some serious walking, but not much other than that. If the weather warms up some, I may try to convince Fred to dig a hole in the back yard so I can plant my Gladiolus bulbs. ]]>

Mo! Thirty-one? ::sob:: Our baby’s growing up!!! I was going to send you a birthday cake, Mo, but it looked really good, and I couldn’t help myself… I knew you wouldn’t mind! Mwah! And Miz Poo? She sends grumpy birthday wishes, with her evil, glowing eyes. Best year ever, Mo. I guar-on-tee it!

* * * So, I got my new mousepad in the mail yesterday, finally. I’ve been using the same crappy old free mousepad for a couple of years now, so it’s out with the old, cat-hair-covered, dirty mousepad: The new one is much more "me", don’tchathink? (I got it here) The old mousepad was a free gift from our credit union. The radio ads for our credit union’s online banking option just cracks me up, because it’s called WWBO (which stands for WorldWide Branch Online), and when they say "WWBO" on the ads, all I hear is "BO". Which is what I want to think of when I think about logging on to check out the checking account, yes indeedy. Last Thursday, Fred came home, looked at me, and said "Why is your eye so red?" My eye had been bothering me all day, but I thought it was because I’d been doing some heavy-duty snuggling with Miz Poo, and got cat hair in my eye. When Fred asked why it was so red, I realized yet again that I’m an idiot. I went upstairs and dug through the junk drawer in the bathroom until I came up with the leftover medicine from last time I had conjunctivitis. There wasn’t much left, but I squirted some in my eye (in both eyes, actually – I always spread it from one eye to the other, because I’m always touching my face). I convinced myself that I had enough medicine to get rid of the infection if I was careful, because I very much didn’t want to up and go to the walk-in clinic. Mid-morning Friday, I ran out of the medicine, and my eye was still blazing red. I told Fred I was going to go to the clinic, grabbed a book, and headed out. I got there at 11:45, signed in, settled in with my book, and waited. And waited and waited and waited. Finally, at 2:45 I was sitting in the exam room waiting for the doctor. He came in, looked at my eye from across the room, diagnosed me (actually, when he came in and said "What seems to be the problem?", I said "I have conjunctivitis.", so really what he did was agree with my diagnosis.), and went off to write a prescription. He was in the room with me for less than 90 seconds. Was I happy? Oh, yes. Thrilled. At least I got the BIG bottle of eyedrops this time around, so I can probably get through the next case of conjunctivitis without having to visit the clinic. Between my trip to the gynecologist, the general surgeon and the clinic last week, I paid out enough in co-pays to buy a new eyeball. The spud’s father (also known as "the ex") called Sunday night to talk to her, as he does every other week or so. When she was done talking to him, she came downstairs and told me that he’d told her that his grandmother (his father’s mother) passed away last Wednesday. She had Alzheimer’s and was going downhill over the last few years, so this isn’t a great shock. But, here’s where I need y’all’s advice. I know I need to send a sympathy card to the ex’s grandfather and probably to his father (the spud’s grandfather) as well, and I’ve even bought the cards, but what the hell should I write inside? I only met the woman twice, and I don’t really remember anything about her (there were many relatives I met, and they kind of blended in together). I know she was nice, because they were all very nice and welcoming, but I don’t remember anything about her at ALL. Your advice would be much appreciated, and thanks in advance.]]>

I was out walking yesterday morning. While I walk, I listen to a book on tape, and I’m currently listening to Wizard and Glass (thus the reason I was so interested in casting someone for Roland last week). The tape ended about 15 minutes into my 1-hour walk and I didn’t have the next tape with me, so I switched over to the radio, to Ace and TJ‘s morning show, to be exact. They were in the middle of a conversation about, I think, the best ways to meet men. A woman called in and said she was a bank teller, and she and her single bank teller friends, if a nice-looking customer came in, would check out their balance to determine if they were, as someone put it, "husband material." Sometimes, she went on, she’d write down their address and drive by their house. She ended up dating one customer for a little while by doing just that. Personally, if you’re using a guy’s looks and his bank balance to determine whether he’s husband material, that’s a sad little statement, really, but to each her own. I didn’t think checking out bank balances was a terribly bad thing – I was once a bank teller, and I’d check out balances from time to time just out of curiosity, but after a while, money becomes not money, if that makes any sense – it would become more like these important colored pieces of paper you had to count out. Like Monopoly money. It would be like "Yeah, he’s got ten thousand dollars in his checking account, big whoop." Of course, I also wasn’t single, so maybe it was different for me. Anyway. Yankee Pete, who’s part of the show, just lost his mind. He was incredibly pissed at the idea of a bank teller checking out his balance for such reasons, and said "If I knew a bank teller was checking out my balance like that, I’d want to reach across the counter and punch her in the face!", and he went on to tell the caller that she was trash and crap for doing it. I didn’t really get why he was that pissed – I mean, it’s human nature to be nosy, isn’t it? I figure if any of my readers work in the credit card department at AmSouth, they’ve looked up my account to see how much I owe. (Don’t deny it. When I worked at the Bank of Boston, I killed time putting in famous names and checking out their accounts. I’m sure it’s a big no-no, but no one ever specifically said "Don’t try to find JFK Jr.’s contact information…") But I just accepted that Yankee Pete was pissed for reasons I didn’t understand, and kept walking. But then. You know, people can be SO FUCKING STUPID. This woman calls in, all horrified, saying that Pete had said he WOULD punch a woman in the face, and she couldn’t believe that Ace and TJ, being Southern gentlemen, let him say such a thing, and that Pete is an awful, horrible person, blah-de-blah. What kind of a sheltered fucking life must you lead to think that just because someone says they’d want to do something, they’d actually do it? Just because he’d want to punch a woman in the face doesn’t mean he’d do it, and how stupid and lame do you have to be to not KNOW that? I’m often seized with the compulsion, upon viewing another trail of hairball vomit, to start shooting kitties, but you’re not seeing a lack of cat hair ’round these parts, are you? So then, she goes on about how horrible violence against women is, and Ace and TJ and Angie (the sole woman on the show, and oftentimes the sole voice of reason – though actually, they tend to take turns being the voice of reason. Except for TJ, which is why he’s so fucking funny. But I digress.) jumped to Pete’s defense, saying that they know he’d never hit a woman, that they’ve all worked with charities that promote women’s rights, and so on. The woman says "Has Pete worked for that charity?"

WHAT. THE. FUCK does that have to do with it?! Like if Pete was prone to violence, he’d – when it came time to volunteer at the shelter – say "Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t volunteer for the women’s shelter. I’m PRO violence against women! I LIKE to smack my bitch up!" You know, I’ve never volunteered for the Leukemia Foundation. Therefore, I’m apparently pro-Leukemia. She managed to sound like the biggest idiot I’ve heard in a long time, and whenever I think about it, I manage to get pissed off all over again. It was just her repeated insistence that Pete saying he "would want to" smack someone equaled his actually doing it that made her sound like such a clueless fool. Here’s the thing. You can’t hear someone for a few hours a day and decide you know who they are the other 20 hours a day. To me, Pete sounds like a nice enough guy, but what do I know? Maybe he runs nekkid through the graveyard at midnight and robs convenience stores. You don’t know someone from the limited exposure they put out to you, and to think that you do is idiocy. Which neatly leads me into the aforementioned assholes running rampant on the internet and sending out emails these days. Mar recently found out she was pregnant. Instead of sharing every detail of her pregnancy, she decided to keep it private. Guess what? That’s HER CHOICE. People who had never read her before began emailing her and telling her they wanted every detail. When she said she was keeping the details private, she got shit for it. Thanks, assholes. Now a great weblog is gone. Way to go. A slew of assholes have emailed Lis lately, being their asshole self. Mo got an email from an asshole. You know what? If you email someone and tell them that they’re fat, that their artwork sucks, that they’re going to die for something they chose to do, that they’ll never achieve what they want to do, so they should just give up, YOUR MOTIVES ARE NOT PURE, dumbass. You’re not going to come across as anything but a huge, flaming asshole, no matter how much you’re of the impression that it’s for their own good. What’s so wrong in your lame and pathetic life that you feel the need to lash out and send an email like that to someone you don’t know? It’s obvious to everyone in the world that your intent is to cause hurt, and while some people may be fully able to shrug off the venom aimed at them, many people cannot. What the fuck is wrong with you that you need to shit on someone else to make your own fucking pathetic self feel better? And why can’t you just hit the "back" button instead of unleashing your bullshit on someone who doesn’t know you, and probably would rather NOT know you? You know, it’s one thing if you aim your assholery my way – though to be honest, I can count the asshole emails I’ve gotten on both hands and a few toes, but I couldn’t possibly count the wonderful ones, ’cause I can’t count that high – but when people like Mo and Lis, who are awesome, talented, sweet, funny, wonderful people get emails like that, it enrages me. Makes me, for instance, want to punch you in the face.

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1. If you could build your house anywhere, where would it be? The coast of Maine. Preferably on an island off the coast of Maine. And then I’d have a winter home on the coast of Florida… 2. What’s your favorite article of clothing? My favorite article of clothing to wear would be my oversized, sloppy-ass sweatpants that Fred owned at his largest. I look like a clown in them (and I don’t go out in public in them, either). My most flattering article of clothing would be one of my new underwire bras, because they liiiiiiiiift and seeeeeeeeeparate in a most flattering way. 3. What’s your favorite physical feature of the opposite sex? Give me a guy with a great smile any day. And a nice butt. 4. What’s the last CD that you bought? An Olivia Newton-John Greatest Hits cd. 5. Where’s your favorite place to be? Laying on the bed talking with Fred. Listening to the minutiae of the spud’s day. Or in the chair in the corner of the bedroom while everyone else is asleep, reading whatever it is I’m reading, with a candle burning, a cat on the back of the chair, and another on my lap. 6. Where’s your least favorite place to be? In an exam room at my gynecologist’s, wrapped in a skimpy top and skimpier paper lap blanket thingy, waiting for her to mosey on in. 7. What’s your favorite place to be massaged? My back and shoulders, unless you’re trying to get some looooovin’. 8. HEY, what happened to #8? Katie stole it and won’t give it back. 9. What time do you wake in the morning? The alarm goes off every morning at 7:25, but Fred generally wakes me up around 7 for my morning hug and kiss before he leaves for work. I doze back off until the alarm goes off, and then either get up to exercise, lay in bed and pet Miz Poo, or doze off until 8, depending on what I need to do during the day. Yes indeedy, it IS a rough life. This morning I was up at 7, though, if that makes y’all feel any better. 10. What’s your favorite TV show? Friends. I’ve seen every one of the shows at least twice. I’m also becoming mighty fond of Bernie Mac and Malcolm in the Middle. And then of course there are all my beloved reality shows. 11. What’s your favorite kitchen appliance? The spud. She’s a multi-use kitchen appliance, who puts the dishes in the dishwasher, chops the occasional carrot, and makes her own lunch. Everyone should have a spud! Six easy payments of $199,995.95! 12. What’s your favorite childhood memory? My family and I were driving somewhere (most likely we were driving from Michigan to California – 4 kids ranging from the age of 4 to 12 in the back of a station wagon – can you feel the joy?), and we stopped overnight in a motel. We were all in the same room, it was bedtime, and someone started up with the "Goodnight, John-Boy!" "Goodnight, Mary-Ellen!", and it probably only went on for a few minutes, but in my memory it seems like hours, with all of us laughing the entire time. 13. What makes you laugh? Those damn cats make me laugh my ass off rather frequently. Ain’t nothin’ funnier than a startled cat. 14. What makes you really angry? When people take it upon themselves to judge someone they don’t really know and send him excuse-filled emails telling him what an awful woman-hater he is. And when other people send awful emails to those I care about, trying to bring them down, under the stupid-ass guise of "Keepin’ it real! Letting you know how it really is! So give up and curl in a corner, please, so I can go smugly along with my life without knowing that the reason I’m failing is because of me. Thankssomuch." Ahem. Cruelty to animals, too. 15. If you could play any instrument what would it be? The geee-tar. No, the piano. I’m so musically uninclined that I can’t even imagine ever being able to play anything. Oh, drums! I pick drums. I bet I could pound some serious drums, man. 16. Favorite Restaurant/Cafe/Eatery? It all depends on what I feel like eating. The spud and I had been in the habit of visiting Applebee’s a couple of times a month, but we recently stopped going there, because Fred’s sister’s husband’s daughter (got that?) is a waitress there, and I have a real dislike of being waited on by someone I know, even someone I barely know. Give me strangers, please. 17. Scariest moment of your life? The day the spud was born, after I woke up. The ex brought her in to see me, and put her down next to me. I thought "My god, what the fuck have I done? I can’t be a MOTHER!" It was a moment of absolute paralyzing "I’m going to fuck this up bad!" terror. 18. If a movie was made about you, what current/former Hollywood star would portray you? In my dreams: Ashley Judd. In reality: Roseanne. Your suggestions? (Which one of you yahoos is going to suggest John Candy?) 19. Do you believe in afterlife? Yes. 20. Favorite children’s book? The Little House books. I saved up my allowance diligently until I got each and every one of the series. I still have them, and I think they’re the only books I still have from my childhood. They were the first books I bought for myself, aside from comic books, and I’ll always have a warm spot in my heart for them. 21. What is your favorite season? Spring. It’s the season of daffodils, and I love watching everything turn green and come to life. Coming in a distant second would be Fall. 22. What is your least favorite household chore? Um… everything? Cleaning out the litter box is the worst, I guess, followed by dusting, which I hardly ever do. 23. If you could have one super power, what would it be? I’d be invisible. It would go along well with my incredibly nosy nature. 24. If you had a tattoo, what would it be? Either a smiley face or a Tweety Bird on my hip. 25. Who was your first love & at what age? If we’re talking about puppy love, his name was John, and I was 16. If we’re talking about true love, his name is Fred, and I was 28. 26. The song you wished you’d written? I Will Always Love You, ’cause Whitney made Dolly an assload of money with her rendition of it, even though the Dolly version is tons better. 28. What’s in the trunk of your car? A super-size bottle of windex, to refill the bottles in the house. I got it at Sam’s about a month ago, but we haven’t needed it yet. Usually I drive around with a big thing o’ kitty litter back there too, but not at the moment. 29. Of the people you emailed this to, who is most likely to respond? n/a 30. Who is the least likely to respond? n/a 31. What is your favorite day? Friday, ’cause the weekend is close at hand, and I don’t have to exercise or watch what I eat. It’s my free day! 32. Using only 1 word describe yourself: Doofus. 33. Say one nice thing about the person that sent this to you. Katie is a rockin’ cutie, with excellent Bold and the Beautiful insights.]]>

Alright, smartasses. 22 of you who took the poll yesterday said you would NOT be my valentine. That’s okay, though. The 77 who will are going to kick your asses.

I got some interesting cast suggestions for Roland, including Goran Visnjic, Tom Cruise, Nicholas Cage, George Clooney, Bruce Campbell, Eric Roberts, David Carradine, David Bowie, Gary Sinise, John Cusack, and Lance Henriksen.

Of that list, I think the best choices were David Carradine and Lance Henriksen, but they’re both too old. I think of Roland as being in his forties; David Carradine and Lance Henriksen are in their sixties. Gary Sinise would be a good choice, but he’s too short. Bruce Campbell’s not serious enough to be Roland, but I think he’d be a good Eddie Dean. Everyone else on the list was either too Big Hollywood or too good-looking, or just not quite right. I don’t think of Roland as particularly ugly, but also not good-looking in a pretty way (which I think Goran Visnjic is).

Last night, Fred and I were laying in bed talking about it, and we started trying to come up with the worst idea for Roland. Fred came up with Joe Pesci ("They FUCK you in The Wastelands!") and Matthew Perry ("Could we BE any more forgetful of our fathers’ faces?!"). I came up with Chris Rock ("You’re SUPPOSED to forget your father’s face, ya dumb motherfucker!"), and Fred was trying to come up with one even funnier. I wandered off to the bathroom, and when I came back, he came up with the perfect Roland.

His name is William Fichtner. He was in Contact, Black Hawk Down, Armageddon, and The Perfect Storm, among other movies. If you watched As the World Turns in the late ’80s, he was bad guy rapist turned good guy Josh Snyder. He’s the right age – 46 – he’s got those intense, piercing eyes, he’s tall and lanky, and he’s good-looking, but not pretty, and he’s got dark skin. I can definitely see him as Roland.

Of course, that’s just our opinion. Yours may vary 🙂

Friday Five:

1. What was the first thing you ever cooked? I don’t remember, but it was probably along the line of scrambled eggs. Does toast count? My sister and I went through a stage when I was 12 or so where we got up every Saturday and made apple spice muffins. I can’t imagine the spud being able to bake anything on her own. Maybe I need to work on that with her…

2. What’s your signature dish? I don’t have one. I can follow a recipe well enough, but I have no real skill at cooking or baking.

3. Ever had a cooking disaster? (tasted like crap, didn’t work, etc.) Describe. When I was married to the ex, I thought I could take a few simple ingredients and make a tuna casserole. I mixed tuna, noodles, and cream of mushroom soup. It sucked REALLY badly, so much so that we each took one bite and tossed it out.

4. If skill and money were no object, what would make for your dream meal? Boiled lobster, lobster stew, baked lobster, lobster ravioli…

5. What are you doing this weekend? I don’t know. I need to get caught up on my walking, but other than that, I have no plans. I’m sure Fred will get anxious to get out of the house at some point – usually when I’m in the middle of taking a nap. I take a lot of naps on the weekend, have I mentioned?

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Be our valentine, bitch! Or our Valentine Bitch. Whichever makes you happiest. And take the new poll to the right, won’tcha?

I’m a polling fool these days.

I’ve been informed that my Valentine’s Day present from Fred will be delivered. He claims it’s not flowers, though. We shall see…

So I stole a pen from the doctor’s office yesterday. Oh, don’t give me that disapproving look – it’s not like he PAID for the pen. It came from a drug rep. Those drug reps are always giving out pens and cool little gadgets and buying lunch for the office staff. I should know – both my sister and my mother work in doctor’s offices. My mom used to keep a big box of Tylenol samples in her cupboard, brought home from the office. I always make it a point to steal a pen from each and every doctor’s office I visit.

This is a good pen, but not the best one I have. The best I own, that I love the most, because it has a good feel in my hand, and it never ever leaks ink is this one:

It’s a pen made by skilcraft for the US Government. You can only get them on bases and in government offices. I love and adore this pen, and no one else is allowed to touch it. It’s mine, and someday it’ll run out of ink, and I’ll be heartbroken and bereft.

I highly encourage any government employees to pass along to me boxes and boxes of these pens.

The other pen I like using these days is another one I stole from a doctor’s office. The best pens seem to be the BicClic ones, but the ones you can buy in the office supply stores just aren’t the same.

Yes, it’s a Pepsi pen. I don’t know what it was doing in a doctor’s office, but I snagged it for my own.

If you work in a doctor’s office, I highly encourage you to steal and send to me the BicClic pens the drug reps drop off. Along with any other cool toys, I mean.

I have quite a collection of pens, all stolen from various places. The red pen in that picture? I found it on top of a toilet paper dispenser in the bathroom of the high school where the spud’s concert took place last week. I wrote "Robyn loves Fred" on the wall of the stall and took the pen. The orange pen is a Tomato Nation pen, and I didn’t steal that one, but I like it all the same. I even have a Xenical pen that I stole from Dr. Judy’s office, but I don’t know where it went. It cracks me up, though. I call it the "shit pen", since one of the side effects of Xenical is "anal leakage." Hee!

I’ve spent the last couple of days yammering at Miz Joley about office supplies (she didn’t believe me when I said I could talk about the most inane things forEVER), so here’s something special to make up for the pain of it.

That’s right – I got the label machine out!

I originally had that label stuck to Miz Poo’s head, but she freaked out about it. Soon after I took this picture, she stomped off in a huff and now she’s not speaking to me.

So, anyone out there follow the Stephen King Dark Tower books? Fred and I do, and we’re trying to figure out who we’d cast in a movie as Roland, the Gunslinger. Fred suggested Val Kilmer, but I don’t think so. I think Josh Hartnett as a young Gunslinger, but who to cast as the grown-up version? Ideas? Suggestions? I just can’t seem to come up with the right actor for the role!

Like I’d have any say in the matter, anyway. It’s not like they’re (as far as I know) planning to make a movie of the series. But I’m a dork with too much time on my hands, yes indeedy.

A pink valentine Russ bear and a heart candle, delivered by Fed Ex. Definitely NOT flowers, and definitely a big surprise. Adorable, isn’t he? (Him, too.)

Okay, that’s it for today. Y’all have a great Valentine’s Day!

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