Category: Life

Jolene‘s notify list, and whenever I get a notify email from her, I sing – loudly, proudly, and badly – Dolly Parton’s "Jolene." Let the stampede to unsubscribe from my notify list begin. My period started early this month – as in, it usually starts Wednesday between 10 am and noon, it’s been like that for four years, except those few months last year when I went off the pill, and it started Tuesday night instead – and I am all a-twitter to find out what exactly this means. Will it still keep going until Saturday afternoon, as usual, or will it end a day early? The thrills and chills around here just never stop, folks. So, I was in the shower this morning – practically this afternoon, ’cause I didn’t get around to showering ’til after 11! I’ll discuss why later, but really, let’s get back to the topic, shall we? – happily lathering up my hair. Lather, lather, lather. Ah, smell the lovely coconut scent, such a happy, lovely scent it is indeed. But – what’s this? I feel a lump in my hair. I pull the somewhat furry lump from my hair and bring it to eye level so that I might see it clearer. It was a spider. A DEAD spider. A DEAD SPIDER IN MY HAIR, PEOPLE! I’m not too proud to admit that I jumped, squealed loudly (and not a happy squeal, either), and flung the dead spider away from me as hard as I could. It hit the shower wall about waist-high (my waist, that is. Well, if I HAD a waist) and then just kind of hung there. When I was done doing the "HOLY GOD IN HEAVEN THERE WAS A DEAD SPIDER IN MY HAIR, A DEAD SPIDER, A DEAD SPIDER! SCREAM!" dance, I grabbed the detachable shower head and sprayed it down the drain. What perturbs me the most is that I have NO idea where the damn thing came from. Did it die in my hair in the night and then hang there all morning long as I exercised? If so, it had one hell of a grip for a dead thing. Did it fall from somewhere as I was cleaning the kitchen and living room? Was it on the shower head? WHERE did the fucking thing come from??? Is this the kind of thanks I get for scooping up that little bitty spider that was crawling along the wall over my desk yesterday and tossing it outside instead of killing it? I just know I’m going to have nightmares. I think I’m going to go shave my hair off. ::Shudder::]]>

Jesus last night – it’s one of the movies I rented on Movie Rental Tuesday – and right after the part where Jesus heals a crippled boy (he’s a miracle-doin’ fool, that guy), I heard a sniffle from Fred’s direction. The Mommy in my head kicked in. "Oh, I hope he’s not getting sick. Does he need a tissue? Some cold medicine?" I turned my head to look at him, and tears were just a-pourin’ down his face. So I laughed at him. I know, I’m an awful wife, but it was funny to be sitting there, my eyes not in the least teary, and have him practically sobbing loudly. Apparently one of the big ways we differ is that he cries during happy parts of movies, and I cry during the sad parts. I know you women out there are jealous since I got me one o’ them SENSITIVE guys who can cry. But hands off, ladies, he’s taken. (And by the way, I DID get his permission to write about his tears, so don’t email me and tell me how mean I am for blowing his cover) Earlier today, I was reading this month’s Glamour magazine (I really need to cancel that subscription), and I came across a something entitled "Karma Calculator". Basically, it’s a list of sins, and they ask a Rabbi, a Monsignor, and a Buddhist guy how to clear your karma – and conscience – when you "commit a moral faux pas." So far so good, right? The sins begin: Stealing someone’s parking space, cheating on your SO, gossiping about a friend. But I have to take exception to Sin number 5, which is: "Taking a sick day at work when you’re not really sick." This is a sin? I don’t THINK so. Is god really up there making little black marks next to my name when I call in sick to work when I’m really just needing a day in bed with crappy magazines? Even better are the religious guys’ advice. The rabbi says you should come in on a weekend day or forgo one of your vacation days. The Monsignor says you should work overtime without putting it on your timecard. The Buddhist guy says "Try to work as if it’s your true vocation instead of just killing time." Sh’YEAH. Fuck THAT. I know, I’m going straight to Hell. Also in the Glamour magazine was an article by Elizabeth Wurtzel, she of Prozac Nation fame, about her addiction to ritalin, which led to a cocaine addiction. Aren’t her 15 minutes up yet? Man, I can’t believe tonight’s the last Survivor. Surely they’ll show it again in reruns? Please, oh please? They had a segment on the noon news here showing the final four as they look now, and Rich has dropped even more weight, and shaved the facial hair. He’s almost cute. Almost, I say.]]>

The Cider House Rules Saturday night, and I can’t praise it enough. But y’all know that’s ’cause it’s got that cute little Tobey Maguire in it. I just love that boy. Charlize Theron was just not right for him, though. Too "come-hither", if you know what I mean. Hands off, Charlize! Ellen DeGeneres and Anne Heche broke up, did y’all hear? And Meg Ryan and Dennis Quaid are back together! Yay! While I’m doing the entertainment section of Bitchypoo, I have to say that the casting for the Harry Potter movie is pretty darn good, especially the kid playing Ron. The girl who’ll be playing Hermione isn’t quite what I was expecting, though. The pool is back to normal, with sparkling clear water and no nasty algae floating or laying around. I bought an underwater camera at Wal-Mart last week, so one day soon I’ll be getting pictures of Fred blowing water bubbles from the bottom of the pool. So, I was burning a candle on my desk last night (sunflower flavor), and Miz Poo got all interested and went running across my desktop to check it out, sticking her little face as close to the flame as possible. I grabbed her and pulled her back before she burst into flames, butt his morning I note that several of the whiskers directly above her eyes are about half their previous length. It gives her a rakish air.]]>

Survivor? That’s twice in a row! Rudy cracked me up, with the not knowing the answers to anything. I can’t believe there’s only one more show. I hope like they hell they run the entire series again; I feel like there’s a lot I missed the first time around. I think they’re editing Sean to look as stupid as possible, personally. I still like Sue, and have ever since she referred to herself as a redneck back on the first or second show. And I like Jeff Probst, too. So there. I would have kicked ass in the reward challenge, just loaded up my bra (or bathing suit top) with mud. I bet it’d hold a good 20 pounds of mud, right there. Man, I’m so unmotivated today (nothing new there). I need to pay bills. I need to burn my vacation pictures to cd for my dad. I need to get my nephew’s birthday cards in the mail (sorry, Deb! At least the presents should be there in time…). I need to clean underneath the sink in the master bathroom. I need to buy some flowers to hang in the back yard, where the catnip was hanging before I failed to water it for two days and killed it. I need to clean the downstairs, so I won’t have as much to clean tomorrow. I need to clean out the garage, because it’s a huge mess. I need a nap. ]]>

Okay, she’ll be fine. I know she will, and she’ll be home in a few hours and chatter for hours upon hours about her day. Unless it completely sucked, in which case she probably won’t say a thing about it. If you haven’t read Amy’s entry for today, go do it now. That Amy just cracks me up. Her journal entries from her youth sound a lot like my journal entries from my youth. Not for me were deep, introspective entries (which still holds true today, as you can see). I may have to dig some old journals out. I was never very good at keeping journals going, except for my senior year of high school, when we had to pass our journals in to be read and graded by my favorite high school teacher, who taught Psychology, Mr. Hall. I got A’s on all my journals, thankyouverymuch. In fact, I traded my journal with Pat Schorn – I wonder where he is these days? – and we read each others’, which impressed Mr. Hall so much that in his future Psychology classes, it was a requirement that his students let at least one other student read their journal. I am told I was hated by the victim of this new rule. Anyway, this journal is the longest, most regular journal I’ve ever kept. ::Patting myself on the back:: So, everyone’s doing the cafepress thing, I see. I haven’t ordered the mugs or t-shirts of any journallers yet, but I intend to, once I decide which I want to order. The problem is that I don’t drink coffee – I drink water, out of a big, covered cup with a straw poking out, and when I drink soda it’s out of the bottle or can, ’cause that’s just how classy I am – and I already have too many t-shirts that don’t fit me. I mean, the t-shirts I have will fit me someday (31.5 pounds gone since June 19th, thank you) and I have a whole pile of them, so buying even more won’t do me any good. I guess I could start a collection of mugs, put them on a bookcase shelf and dust them carefully once a month. Hell, I’d start my own store on cafepress if I could come up with a pithy saying. How ’bout a picture of Miz Poo , with "It’s the bitchiest!" and my url? No? Nothing can compare to Patrick‘s "I like string", anyway. It’s Tuesday, so it’s movie rental day! (note to self: need graphic for Movie Rental Day) I rented Erin Brockovich, Cider House Rules (mmm, mmm, Tobey Maguire – I’m a sucker for that gee-whiz face), and Whatever it Takes. Yes, I’m a sucker for silly teeny-bopper movies, just you hush up. I would have rented Here on Earth if they hadn’t all been out. (Trivia: Leelee Sobieski’s full name: Liliane Rudabet Gloria Elsveta Sobieski. Damn, can you imagine trying to memorize a name like that as a child?) Ever since I’ve gotten back from Maine, the pool has been rather cloudy. Fred posited that perhaps it was because the weather here has been so dry, so dust and dirt has been flying into the pool, and instead of the filter filtering it out, it’s been going back into the pool because the particles are so fine. I shrugged and nodded and suggested a time or two that perhaps it was algae, the very thought of which Himself did not want to entertain. Finally, he gave up and took a water sample to the pool store to be analyzed yesterday. Mustard algae. Why must he doubt me? The pool guy, after hearing about the kind of filter we have, shook his head in disgust and asked if Cheap Pool Company (name changed ’cause I don’t want to be sued) had installed our pool. Our filter was not, Fred was informed, big enough to filter our pool, that it wouldn’t really be big enough for a pool smaller than ours. So we bought a sand filter, a big monster of a thing, and the guy came and installed it today. This pool thing is a pain in the ass. Fred on the phone to hispeed, who hosts both his and my web sites: "Will my site be down every day, or just the ones that end in "y"?"]]>

Yes, it’s a mess, and yes someday I’ll get around to straightening it out. Maybe this week, since I’ll be getting up at 6:15 with the spud. Oh, and while I’m taking pictures, I got this for Fred’s Jeep while I was in Maine: It’s the sock puppet, and you can hang him on the inside of your vehicle! I liked it so much I got one for myself. Tomorrow, I intend to take a picture of my Morning Glories, since they’re producing some gorgeous blooms. I’m slowly making my way through my email. I’ve been reading journal entry after journal entry, and I’m still less than half-way through all the update notices I received. The journallers I read are some updating fools!]]>