Category: Life

First things first, y’all. If you’re a Sex and the City watcher, go to the right and take that poll, would you? I put it up at the request of reader Sandy, who’s just curious. I originally made the poll to only include the girls, but I figure that some of y’all might relate to one of the guys.

So. Last night on Boston Public, did you see it? I, personally, cried a little, but then I’m a big sap. For those of you who don’t watch the show, there was a sad storyline about teacher Harry Senate and a student (Max) who was dying of leukemia, and Harry begged Max to hold on, to not give up, to FIGHT for his life, but Max died about halfway through the show. Harry went on to question WHY he was teaching, and handed in his resignation (though by the end it was apparent he’d stay), and really, it was quite touching, the whole storyline.

What made me cry hardest, though, was…

…the really bad hair. Dude, what the fuck? They don’t have mirrors on Boston Public? It looks like a reallyreallyreally bad wig, is what it looks like. Maybe Nicky Katt had a bad fire-related accident and burned off all his hair? Maybe he got the wig from the Raquel Welch wig line, like Samantha on Sex and the City? I kept getting distracted from the story, and Fred and I repeatedly said "What the fuck is UP with his HAIR?"

And, have you ever noticed that the more you look at Jeri Ryan, the more she looks like a freakish caricature?

While we’re at it, poor Guber! But then, that’s what you get when you take up with a psycho…

To continue the TV talk, Jon Bon Jovi is on Ally McBeal these days (like you didn’t know), and there’s just something weird about his eyes. Like he’s had an eyelift or something. They just don’t look right, is what I’m saying. I wish he’d get his ass killed off in a freak plumbing accident.

Man, my usual movie store is pissing me off these days. Never EVER when I go in there on Tuesday mornings do they have the new movies – new movies are released on video on Tuesdays, did you know that? – out and ready to be rented. Today, there were two girls working, but rather than actually PUTTING OUT the new fucking movies, they were standing behind the cash register yukking it up. Instead of asking if they had Hearts in Atlantis on dvd, I just left and went to another movie store. They just put up a new Blockbuster not 1/4 mile away from the Movie Gallery, so you’d think that’d make the Movie Gallery people get their shit together.

You’d think wrong.

However, new movies at Blockbuster are only good for a 2-day rental, whereas new movies at Movie Gallery and Hollywood Video are good for 5 days, and since the gals at Movie Gallery were too busy talking about someone else who works at Movie Gallery, I hauled my ass to Hollywood Video.

Bastards, all of ’em.

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Sex and the City last night? Why can’t anyone be haaaaaaappy? Why’s Big gotta leeeeave? Why can’t Samantha fall in love with a goooood guy? (Because she wouldn’t be interested in a good guy, is the answer to that last one. That opinion is one I believe wholeheartedly – the bitches (and I say that lovingly, because I like all the gals on Sex and the City) are never interested in the nice guys, and the nice guys are only ever interested in the bitches). I learned something, though – I had no idea that when your water breaks when you’re pregnant that a huge gushing puddle comes out – I thought it was more of a trickle. One night last week, I was dozing off sometime after 11:00, and Miz Poo was sleeping on the pillow a few inches from my face. I was juuuuuust about asleep, when Miz Poo was overcome with love and HAD to reach her hot little paw out to touch my mouth. It startled the hell out of me, and I snapped out of my doze, jumped, and screamed rather loudly. Miz Poo responded by blinking slowly and purring at me. I love that damn cat. ]]>

Another time I should have brought the camera with me, damnit. We were waiting outside the auditorium for the spud to be done – it wasn’t an actual concert, it was more a practice for a competition thing they’re doing next week (or somethin’) – and the members of the next band (the spud’s in the advanced band; there’s also a concert band) showed up, and Fred pointed out a group of particularly geeky boys. Then he began ruminating about his own high school friends. “My friends were all very geeky,” he said. “But I wasn’t really geeky at all.” Unbidden, a HUGE grin came to my face. “What?” he said. ” WASN’T geeky!” I continued to smile. “You’ve seen the pictures of me as a kid!” he went on, starting to get annoyed. Indeed I have. < Hee! Okay, maybe “geeky” isn’t quite the right word. Maybe “dorky” covers it better. Even then he was a cute li’l muffin, wasn’t he? And that half-smile, that “take the fucking picture and get it over with!” in the second picture? He still does it. 1. What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for someone else? I used to stick little love notes in Fred’s lunch, but that was years ago. I’ve also sent him flowers when he wasn’t expecting them. 2. [pardon the cosmo question] What are your erogenous zones? Neck and ears. Also, admiring my muscles without being prompted will get you laid any time. 3. How old were you the first time you had sex? 19. 4. What’s the most unusual place you’ve ever had sex? [Redacted] 5. Do you have plans for Valentine’s Day or is it just another Thursday? There’ll be no big fuss, but we’re exchanging small presents – in fact, I think I said “Get me one of those heart-shaped candles like you got me last year, and a card.” Heh. I’m such a bossy bitch. I’ll be surprising a few girlies who aren’t expecting it with a small valentine’s token and a card, though. Whee!

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See something on the floor… … sit on it. So, apparently if you’re burning muscle (like I mentioned in yesterday’s entry), you’ll smell that ammonia smell directly after you’ve exerted yourself, rather than hours later. Big thanks to Stub, who alerted me to the truth of the matter! Apparently the table we bought is RAWTHER popular amongst y’all who read my journal, because three people so far have emailed to tell me that they have the verysame set. One of them is The Bald One, whose friend test I took yesterday and upon which I scored 100. I’m very very bad at taking those tests, and have certainly never gotten anywhere near 100, so it must have been a VERY easy test. So, I got all pissed off at Fred last week because I had a dream that I died and came back in someone else’s body a year later, and he was already remarried, and when I had convinced him I was me instead of the hot little 19 year-old I looked like (could be worse – I could have come back in Ah-nuld’s body), he DIDN’T LEAVE WIFE #2. Man. I was pissed off about that for days. And then I watched Castaway and got more pissed off. I mean, Tom Hanks was only gone for 4 years, damnit! So I laid down the law to Fred – If I come back in someone else’s body, I have DIBS on him, and he is to leave the skank ho he married out of grief over my passing and come back to me. ADDITIONALLY, unless he sees my cold, dead body with his own two eyes, he is NOT to believe that I’m dead, but rather to sit and wait for me to come back. You’ve been warned, skank hos out there who would swoop down upon my husband in his grief and get him to marry you. I’ll slap your skank-ho face and reclaim what is rightfully mine. So there.]]>

I decide who’s King Shit of Turd Mountain, y’all, and don’t forget it. I was all pissed at myself yesterday for not bringing my camera with me while I was out running errands. I ended up sitting at a red light for five minutes, while a couple of huge-ass trailer-trucks went by with brick houses on the back. They’re selling the old base housing from Redstone Arsenal, and I guess someone had bought a house or two and needed them delivered. I can’t say that the thought of living in old base housing is the slightest bit attractive to me, but I wonder if I’d feel all at home if I did, since I spent the first 13 years of my life living in base housing. Anyway, I’m betting that being moved from one spot to another isn’t very good for a house. They’re not really built to be moved, I would think, and I wonder what effect that has on the house. I bet they’re cheap as hell. I keep freakin’ myself out, because I cleaned with ammonia this morning, and I keep catching whiffs of it. As I learned on the leanandstrong message board, the smell of ammonia coming from your own body (unless you peed in your pants) means that your body is burning muscle (don’t email me and ask me if it’s true – they say so, so I assume it is), and you need to get protein right away. So I keep going ::sniffsniffsniff:: “Oh, shit, I worked out too rigorously this morning! Protein! I need protein!”, before I remember about cleaning with the ammonia.

Dork? Me?

 

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Confession: I think Britney Spears is just cute as a button.

I spent the morning running from place to place doing errands, and now I’m waiting for the guys to come deliver our kitchen table, and the other guys to come take our old kitchen table away. The delivery guys are supposed to be here between 12 and 3. The take-away guys are supposed to be here between 12 and 4. Whatchoo wanna bet they’ll all show up in the 5 minutes I’m gone to get lunch at Wendy’s?

Oh, maybe I shouldn’t go spend money. We just heard that there’s a big fuckarow and Fred’s company won’t be getting their big check this month, or that it’ll be late, which makes me SO happy, considering I just made a trip to Sam’s (but didn’t buy anything that wasn’t on my list. Okay, that’s a lie – I bought Gladiolus bulbs, but they were SUCH a good price) and spent money that didn’t need to be spent just now.

Holy CRAP does Greta Van Susteren look different! She doesn’t even look like the same person, does she? Maybe she’s NOT the same person. Maybe some bad guys took someone who looked very much like her and gave her plastic surgery and intensive training and kidnapped the real Greta, and put the imposter in her place!

Oh, wait. There’s a book with that plot, isn’t there?

By the way, I am once again behind in my email, and will no doubt let it just pile up for a few more days before I get my ass around to responding. That’s just the kind of sucky slacking emailer I am.

I’M SO DAMN COLD. Where ARE those damn delivery guys, anyway? Bastards. I want to snooze on the couch in front of the fire… Oh. The guys who’re going to take away the old table just called to say they’d be here within the hour.

So, what are the chances that they’d all show up at once? Pretty fucking good, apparently, ’cause that’s just what happened. The delivery guys had stuff spread all over the place, putting the table together, when the pick-up guys showed up, and there was much shuffling about, until they could get the table out the back door.

I reallllllly like this table. It even came with a leaf to make it bigger. And even though this table is bigger than the old one, it still fits there pretty nicely, at least I think it does.

If the bastards holding up the money to Fred’s company don’t get their shit together, we may be burning the table to keep warm. (Kidding – things really aren’t that desperate. Thank god for the high-limit credit card, which we just sent a big payment to…)

Okay, damnit. I’m wearing two shirts, warm pants, warm socks, and slippers, and I’m sitting two inches from a space heater, which is blasting out the heat. I’ve cranked up the thermostat, and I am FREEZING TO FUCKING DEATH. People, what the hell? I know part of it’s got to be the fact that I’ve lost 125 pounds in the last year and a half, but I AM still carrying around 87 pounds of insulation on my ass. How the hell am I going to stand it when it’s cold outside and I weigh 150 pounds?! I’m about ready to try to figure out how to start the damn fireplace, and crawl inside it.

What the hell do you skinny people do?

I had fish for lunch yesterday (cooked on the George Foreman grill, with Chef Prudhomme’s Seafood Magic sprinkled on top. Mmmmm), and the house still reeks of fishiness. I tried lighting a candle I got from those liars at Bed, Bath and Beyond, which was supposed to "neutralize kitchen odors." Now it smells like I’ve been burning a fish candle. Add to that the smell of red beans cooking, and you have quite the smell going on.

Speaking of Bed, Bath and Beyond, I’ve had a coupon for BB&B since before Christmas. It’s a 25% off your ENTIRE PURCHASE coupon, so I’ve been saving it and making a list of everything I need from there. I was in the shower last Thursday thinking about how it was almost February (what? like you think about anything more exciting than that in the shower. I know you think of ME when you’re in the shower, you bad, bad readers), and I remembered the coupon, so after I got out of the shower, I went to see when it was going to expire. Naturally, Thursday was the last day I could use the damn thing, so I had to get dressed quickly, get my list, and head out the door.

One of the things on my list was all new towels and rugs for the master bathroom. We’ve had the dark red – cranberry, I guess you’d call it – motif in the master bathroom for years, and I finally got tired of it. So I bought gray-blue towels and rugs, among other things. When Fred went to bed Thursday night, everything in the bathroom was cranberry, and when he went in there Friday morning, it was all gray-blue. I like the blue a lot better than the cranberry – it’s a much warmer and relaxing color, in my opinion.

I ended up saving a HEFTY amount with my coupon, too. Whee!

Okay, my fingertips are about to fall off, and I see the Spud trundling down the street, so I need to let her in and try to figure out how to warm up. See y’all tomorrow.

 

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See something on the floor? Sit on it.

Big thanks to reader Jennyfer in Kansas, who bought The Millionaires off of my wish list. Thank you, Jennyfer!

 

Damn, but it’s getting cold out again. This better not affect the growth of my daffodils, damnit, or I’ll be giving Mother Nature a piece of my mind! That reminds me – I need to order Gladiolus and lily bulbs. I wasn’t supposed to plant those last fall, was I?

Robyn, the Ace Gardener, yes indeedy.

Friday Five:

1. Have you ever had braces? Any other teeth trauma? I had braces for about a year (I think) when I was in 3rd grade. My main memory of them was that I had to have them tightened the DAY before Thanksgiving, and what happens after they tighten your braces, is that you wake up the next morning with some seriously sore teeth, and it hurts to eat. I wasn’t a happy camper.

Shortly before I got braces, I was at the base pool, and managed to smack my front teeth on the cement at the side, chipping one of them. It was small enough so that the dentist could grind the edge of my tooth until it was straight, and you can’t tell the difference.

2. Ever broken any bones? Nope, never – which is amazing, considering what a godawful klutz I am.

3. Ever had stitches? I had stitches on the incision under my right knee (after I had a tumor removed from my leg) and on my c-section after I had the spud.

4. What are the stories behind some of your [physical] scars? I have a scar on my right index finger. I was hauling wood at my parents’ house when I was 13 or 14, using my father’s ancient riding lawnmower and a trailer attached to the back. I glanced back to see that the trailer was coming toward me at a fast rate – I was going down a hill – and put my hand back to slow it down. The trailer smashed my finger flat. It hurt like hell, and I probably needed a stitch or two, but when my mother came home from work and I told her about it, she snarled "Oh, JESUS CHRIST, Robyn!" and stomped into the house, which I took as a sign that she wasn’t up for a trip to the doctor.

On my left ankle, the outer part, I have a 2-inch scar caused by shaving. I was 15 or so, sitting in the tub with an apparently dull razor, and ripped off a big hunk of skin. I was more interested in the piece of skin than in pain, but it took forever for the wound to heal.

5. How do you plan to spend your weekend? As usual – sitting on my ass, watching the occasional movie, and reading. I love weekends.

Okay. I know you’re DYING for more cat pictures, and who I am I to deny you the pleasure? So I’ll share a few more with y’all, and then call it an entry.

Fancypants laying on the couch looking like a dead thing.

Another attempt at a Miz Poo/ Robyn picture. Damn I love that cat.

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Okay, people, am I going to have to be the one to say it? I watched the State of the Union address last night, and I immediately noticed it, so is it a conspiracy, or a cover-up, or what?

When did Dick Gephardt die? Obviously they stuffed him, propped him up in his seat, and someone was sitting under his seat with sticks attached to the back of Dick’s hands, moving them back and forth to make them clap.

And they stole Howdy Doody’s wig to top it off. A sad state of affairs when our nation’s leaders think we won’t notice something so blatant.

While I’m insulting the leaders of THIS GREAT NATION OF OURS (oh, sorry, I guess some of the speech rubbed off on me), can I mention that it looks like Teddy Kennedy has finally given up the booze?

Since I still have a ton of bills to pay and have to go through my picture albums for tomorrow’s WordGoddess collab entry (putting it off ’til the last possible moment? Moi? Surely you jest), I’m going to share a story or two about the spud and call it an entry.

Last night, I was brushing my teeth before bed when Fred came in the bathroom, laughing. He’d just come from saying goodnight to the spud. I demanded to know what he was laughing about, and he finally told me.

The spud got a fart machine from a certain someone (I’m lookin’ at you, Moira, you troublemaker!) for Christmas. The idea is that you stick the part that makes the noise under someone’s chair, and then use the little remote control to set it off. Only, instead of sticking it under someone’s chair, the spud stuck it to the front of her bedroom door. She did that a few weeks ago, and from time to time I’ll be sitting in front of the computer, or in my room reading, and hear it go off, and it always makes me laugh a little.

Well, last night as Fred approached the spud’s bedroom, she heard him coming, and set it off. When he got to the door of her room, he saw that she had taken a piece of yarn and tied the remote to the head of her bed. And she casually reached up and used the remote to set off the fart machine again.

I have no idea why, but something about that had me laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe. It’s like some weird confirmation that she does, in fact, share my genes, and the thought of her so proudly reaching up to set off the fart machine makes me laugh my ass off. Like, it’s not enough that there’s a REMOTE for a fart machine, but that she felt such a strong urge to have it close at hand that she TIED the remote to the head of her bed.

Pardon me while I go wipe my eyes. God that just cracks me up like nothing else.

And THEN, Fred told me another fart-machine story. It appears that Monday night, while I was watching the last hour of Castaway (since Ally McBeal wasn’t on), he was in the bathtub, and the spud knocked at the door wanting to talk to him about something. He told her he was taking a bath and would be out soon, so she went back to her room. When he was done with his bath, he walked out the bedroom door, with the intent of heading for her room. He took a single step toward her room, and the fart machine, which she’d set in the corner by our bedroom door, went off, scaring the hell out of him. It appears that the thing has a MOTION DETECTOR built in, so the spud set it by our bedroom door as an alarm, so she’d know when Fred was coming out the door! A fart-machine alarm!

Now if we could just get her to use her powers for good instead of evil.

 

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::Sob:: Stephen King to leave horror writing?! Say it ain’t so, Steve!

I’ll believe it when I see it.

Just for the record, Mike Tyson is the biggest fucking idiot in the entire world. I used to feel slightly sorry for him, back when he and Robin Givens were married and she was badmouthing him all over the place RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM on 20/20 or whichever news show it was, but now I completely feel for that girl. I bet she still has nightmares about that idiot.

The cold or flu or whatever it is is still hanging on. I’m still stuffy and fuzzy-headed, but it’s only mild, whatever it is. I hope like hell it continues to stay this mild and then goes away.

I was all over hell and creation this morning, starting with a hair appointment – color and trim – at 9 am. You know, 9 am, when I’m usually lounging in front of the computer recovering from exercising? Yeah, that 9 am. So I actually had to get up when my alarm went off at 7:25 instead of lolling in bed and cuddling with Miz Poo.

Confession: I have currently taken to calling Miz Poo "Monkeypants." I have NO fucking clue why, but I guess I’ll just go with it since it’s not hurting anyone.

Speaking of cats in general, I got out of bed yesterday morning and looked out the window. Under one of the trees in the back yard were gathered all the cats except for Miz Poo, and they were all staring at a bright red bird in the upper branches of the tree, flitting to and fro. It would have made a good picture if I’d had the camera upstairs with me.

Where was I? Oh yeah – getting up when the alarm went off. So I exercised, blahblahblah, and was out the door about 5 ’til 9. It actually takes a little longer than 5 minutes to get to the hair place, but the woman who cuts my hair is usually not quite ready for me if I get there exactly at 9, so I’ve learned to be a few minutes late.

Got my hair colored it’s usual medium brown, had about 1/4 inch cut off the ends – after a year of growing out the layers, my hair is very close to all one length. It’s about time to chop it all off again, isn’t it? – was blow-dried and styled, and on my way by about 10:30.

From there, I returned movies, checked my mail at the post office (found something from Jolene and a post card from Jolene and Heather – whee! I LOVE real mail. Have I mentioned?), hit Wal-Mart (Met-Rx Vanilla Butter Cream flavored powdered protein shake mix – I hope it doesn’t suck), the grocery store (a buttload of stuff we’ve run out of since Fred got groceries on Saturday. Or to replace stuff I’ve dropped and broken on the kitchen floor. Grrrr), home to put away the groceries, and back out again to hit Target (orange roughy, scallops, Kashi bars), Wendy’s for lunch (I DID miss a meal while I was out running around, you know), and home again.

And all this while feeling under the weather. Go, me!

Oh, man. It’s practically the end of January, and I haven’t even thought about starting my WordGoddess collab for January. I guess you know what tomorrow’s entry will be about… And I need to pay bills. And vacuum both upstairs and downstairs. I swear, it seems like the more I do, the more I need to do.

I need a nap.

 

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