Category: Life

Google just loves me to death, I swear. And just so you know, it was an entry way back in November when I was talking about Xenical. Oh, and in case you were wondering, according to another page that came up when "fecal urgency" was searched on, The last side effect can be especially embarrassing – fecal incontinence is just a polite, scientific way of saying that Xenical can make you "crap in your pants". I’m so glad we cleared that up. And while I’m a-linkin’, check this one out. My favorite line from this article is At least 24 states prohibit sexual activity with animals, according to the Humane Society of the United States in Washington. Um, AT LEAST 24 states? Why is that not "Every state in the union"? Miz Poo is acting freaky today, running around with her eyes big and pupils dilated, letting out a chirpy meow, and running wildly from one end of the house to the other. I walked toward her with a trash bag in my hand (no, I wasn’t going to put her in it) and she backed away from me with her tail all bushed out. Speaking of kitties, I’m aware that I have been sadly lax about taking pictures lately. Why, by this time in June I’d put up about 40 pictures (okay, perhaps I exaggerate). I vow to you, my faithful readers, to get on it and take some kitty pictures, some morning glory pictures, and a picture of that really cute little pink primrose waving in the wind in front of my window.]]>

exercise tape from Hell yesterday, I called the leader of the exercise, Leslie Sansone, a very naughty word beginning with "c". I mean really – when I’m gasping and sweating, does she have to be so freakin’ perky? I just don’t appreciate that kind of babbling happiness. Also of note is that Florine Marks, the President/ CEO of Weight Watchers was exercising along with Leslie, and at one point Florine says "I can have a Hershey Symphony Bar! I’ve earned it", and if you look closely, you can see the moment after she’s said that, it hits her that she’s supposed to be representing Weight Watchers, and she rapidly backpedals, lamely saying "But, you know, I’d really rather have a nice bowl of cherries or a banana – something that’s good for me!" Which just makes me want to send a truckload of Hershey Symphony Bars to her home, with a note that says "Yeah, right, big bowl of cherries my ASS." So I went to the movie store and rented 6 movies, because much like the book store, or even the online bookstores, when wandering through a movie store, my hands fly out as if independent of my body and grab every movie that looks as if it might be remotely good, and even some which look like total crap. I was only there to rent Hurricane, because Fred mentioned last night that he wants to see it, but I also walked out with Boiler Room, My Dog Skip, Love Stinks, Nice Guys Sleep Alone, and the first two episodes of Sex and the City. Fer cryin’ out loud. Sex AND the City, people. Sex AND the City, NOT Sex IN the City. This has been a public service announcement. (That said "pubic service announcement" before I fixed it. Heh!) Anyway, I have six movies to watch, only two of which Fred wants to see, and I have five days to watch them; they’re due back before midnight Sunday. You’d think I’d watch a movie or two each day and be done well before Sunday. Surely y’all know me better by now? Instead, I’ll completely forget that I have four movies to watch on my own, and sometime Friday I’ll catch sight of the pile of movies, remind myself that I have movies to watch, immediately forget, then end up watching three movies on Saturday and one on Sunday, possibly first thing in the morning so that I can convince Fred to come with me to return movies and then drive through a nearby subdivision to look at the big houses. Mark my words. That’s exactly how it’ll happen. Though Fred will probably be more than willing to accompany me to return the movies so that he can go next door to Kroger and spend money playing that machine which is full of stuffed animals, and you move the claw over and grab it. He likes that machine just for the thrill of the chase, I think, and the opportunity to give the stuffed animal he’s won to me, so he can say "Don’t say I never gave you anything!" But he never gives me flowers. I’m about a quarter of the way through the new Harry Potter. We ordered it from Barnes and Noble, and received it before noon on Saturday. Fred asked the Fedex delivery lady if she’d been delivering a lot of the books, and she said they got totally slammed with about 1,000 from Amazon, and another 3,500 from Barnes and Noble. Anyway, once it was delivered, it sat on the table by the couch for about a day before I decided I wasn’t going to wait for Fred to read it first. He’s in the middle of 43 different self-help books, and wants to finish those before he starts the Harry Potter. In fact, I think I’m going to go curl up in the library and read until Fred gets home.]]>

Survivor, getting frisky with Richard. Leave it to me to have sex dreams about the gay guy, huh? Fred said "Maybe it means you’re so confident in your feminine wiles that you’re sure you can "turn" him straight." Yeah, uh huh, I’m sure that’s it. Aside from being gay, he’s not even my type. In fact, none of the guys on that show are my type. He was a good kisser, though, and I’ll leave it at that. God in heaven, Walter got laid. We have no one to blame but ourselves. Billy Ray Cyrus – don’t act like you don’t know who he is – is apparently back with a new look (it’s possible he’s been back for a while, but I haven’t watched the country video channel for a long time). He grew a beard to cover that pretty face, cut the hair some, and now he looks, according to Fred, like nothing so much as a BeeGee. See for yourself. So, I was catching up on my journal reading the other day, and whilst perusing Freak Magnet, I came across the following: On a completely unrelated note: I’ve decided if my cat Zilla could talk, he’d constantly be saying "I see dead people." I mean, if you live alone and are at all easily freaked out, don’t get cats. Zilla seems to like to do this thing where he’ll get all comfortable in my lap, purring away contentedly, and suddenly his head will whip around and he’ll be staring over my shoulder with wide, terrified eyes. "What?!" I ‘ll screech and turn around (because even if it’s a big bug, I’d like to know about it) and there will be absolutely nothing there. When I turn around, Zilla will be back purring contentedly, eyes closed in my lap. It’s almost like he’s channeling the spirit of one of my younger brothers. I had a mouthful of water I came very close to spitting out onto my keyboard, but somehow managed not to (though a large amount of it went dribbling down my chin onto my t-shirt). I sat, re-reading the paragraph over and cackling loudly for a good five minutes or so before reading it to Fred, and cackling some more. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been drifting off to sleep, my hand resting on Miz Poo, who’s curled up in her favorite sleeping place, between the two piles of pillows on my bed, when suddenly she comes wide awake and stands straight up on her hind feet, her eyes big and dark, staring at something I can’t see. It always startles me awake, and it usually takes me a good half hour to get back to sleep. As you can see, we had a very relaxing weekend here at Casa Bitchypoo. Sometimes, in the middle of the day, there’s nothing around here but sleeping cats, as far as the eye can see. Miz Poo always takes the opportunity to check out the "watering hole" in the bathroom, and sometimes even drinks from it. When she’s not busy slurping up water in the shower, that is. Speaking of Miz Poo, I locked her into the extra room downstairs this morning. I tried to get her out of there before I shut the door, but she scampered off playfully, and since there are so many boxes and bags for her to hide behind, I shrugged and shut the door, figuring I’d go fold some clothes and then open the door and see if she wanted out yet. Except that by the time I’d gotten the clothes folded, the fact that she was locked in the extra room had fallen through one of the holes in my swiss cheese-like memory. An hour later, while surfing the web, I got to wondering where she was, and it all came back to me. I ran to the extra room and opened the door. She trotted out, her tail held up, and – eyes wide – began telling me of her horrid experience in the room, in the dark, all alone. She chirped and purred and rubbed against me for ten minutes before calming down and falling sound asleep on her pillow on my desk. So, I’ve started buying a lot of tictacs lately, and I noticed yesterday that you can collect tictac points and get cool stuff, so I checked it out, and found to my amazement that you can save up 400 points (there’s 1 point for each little tictac container) for a Sony Discman portable cd player! Woohoo! Then I found that you have to send everything in by the end of January 2001. Ah well. I guess I’ll go for the 50-point watch, instead…]]>

this .wav Debbie had Brian make for me. I have it set up so it goes off when I have email (which I probably didn’t need to explain). It scares the hell out of me sometimes when I forget eudora downloads my email every ten minutes. And then Miz Poo always lifts her head and puts her ears back – her Evil Kitty look – when it plays. Speaking of cats, I’m about to turn a certain skittyboo out on the freakin’ street if he doesn’t stop wandering around howling his high-pitched, forlorn meow. So, several of the lilies I planted in the backyard have been blooming for the last few weeks, and since I can’t stand to leave anything so beautiful alone, I chopped one of the plants down and brought it inside to stick in a vase, so that it’s perfume may drift through the entire upstairs, and I can occasionally gaze upon it’s beauty while watching TV. Naturally, I took a picture of the gorgeous flowers. (click on the small picture to see the full-sized version, as usual) So, not only did I do a half-assed version of cleaning the house today, but I also didn’t do any laundry, since a certain someone, whose job it is, forgot to bring the laundry downstairs this morning. Now, you may be scratching your heads and thinking to yourselves "God alive, Robyn, just how lazy are you?" Well, pretty fucking lazy; one would think y’all would have figured that out by now. But that (conveniently) is beside the point. The point is that I have to wash and fold and more often than not put away the laundry; should I have to haul it downstairs and upstairs myself? I think not. I tore a small "fast food guide" out of a recent Family Circle magazine, and paging through it, I note that it has no listings for Chick Fil-A, but it has Dunkin’ Donuts. What’s up with that? And how can a chocolate croissant have 400 calories and 25 grams of fat? They’re, like, air and flour, aren’t they? There’s also no listing for Krispy Kreme, thank god, because if I had to think about how many calories there is in a creme-filled chocolate-covered Krispy Kreme, I’d probably flip out and run to McDonald’s and take hostages.
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Big Brother, I heard the sound of fireworks going off. What’s more, they sounded like they were going off on our front porch. “What the fuck is that?” I snapped. Fred, who was laying in his underwear on the bed reading, turned and looked at me, not much interested in the fact that some neighbor kid may have tossed some kind of fireworks on our front porch. I ran down the stairs, looked out the window beside the door to make sure it was done going off, and then opened the door and looked out. There was nothing on our front porch, but the three annoying kids across the street were sitting on the curb, and one of them yelled at another “Don’t set it off so close to their house!” and pointed at me. I slammed the door shut and went back upstairs to read and kind of watch the rest of Big Brother. Fred, for some reason, found it absolutely hilarious that I’d thought someone had thrown fireworks on our porch and gone flying down the steps to check it out. “What did you think you were going to do?” he guffawed. Finally, I snarled “Someone had to give a shit that some kids might have thrown fireworks on the porch!” By 10:00, they’d stopped setting them off, and as Fred pointed out, their father was actually outside sweeping the street. That man is the most anal man I’ve ever seen in my life. It takes him four hours to mow and edge his postage-stamp-sized lawn, because once the mowing and edging is actually done, he runs around with his broom and sweeps up the grass clippings for half a mile down the road, or so it seems. I told Fred I’d love to see what the inside of their house looks like. I’m betting you could bounce quarters off the kids’ beds, and he probably makes his wife wash the dishes with a toothbrush. So, Survivor was good last night, as usual. Joel was really getting on my nerves, so I’m glad they voted him off. And after reading his “final words“, I’m doubly glad. What an ass. And Gervase needs to stop believing there’s no way he’ll be voted off. He’s just asking for it, there. I’m curious, though – how do the people in each tribe know so much about the people in the other tribe? Susan was talking about how this person and that person needed to go, in the other tribe, but I thought the only time they ever saw each other was at the challenges. The merger should be interesting! Have I ever mentioned that I’m kind of a dork? When Fred and I went to Wal-Mart Tuesday, I purchased a snorkel. Around today, I decided I wanted to go for a swim before lunch, and took my snorkel out with me. Once I was in the pool and got my mask and snorkel on, I floated, face-down, from one end of the pool to the other and back again a few times. When next I lifted my head to see what time it was, I found that I’d been floating around like that for over half an hour. I was so relaxed, I was probably lucky I didn’t fall asleep. Which reminds me (the talk of traveling and stuff, I mean) – Fred is, in fact, not going to see Tony Robbins in Denver at the end of this month, so I won’t be accompanying him (since he’s not going, you see). So he called Delta to cancel his tickets, and they credited him the amount the company’s already paid for the tickets, and he found out that only the person/ people who originally ordered the tickets can use them. Which would be he and I! And we have a year to use them! And he’s talking about going to the Bahamas for Christmas! Yeah, I know it probably won’t happen, but a girl can dream! —–]]>

Bicentennial Man was a real tearjerker. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t particularly ever want to watch it ever again, but it was pretty good entertainment while I was folding laundry. Yes, Friday was Laundry Day (though I didn’t put up the graphic), but there’s always the last basket of stuff – mostly towels and sheets – that sits around for several days waiting for me to fold it’s contents and put everything away. I’m amazed that I got around to it on Monday night this week, instead of my usual waiting until late Thursday. Go, me! We left the house around 10, TOGETHER, if you can believe it, which rarely happens. We dropped off the two movies we rented the other day, and I got Scream 3 on DVD, along with four or five other movies. "Robyn movies," as Fred calls them, which means that he has no interest in seeing them ’cause he’s a party pooper. After the movie place, we went to Wal-Mart, so Fred could waste a few dollars on the machines they have there – the ones full of stuffed animals that you use the claw thing to pick up and win. While he was doing that, I ran into the store and picked up a few things (some storage containers for the spud’s room, 4 plain white Corelle dinner plates, a snorkel, and 4 "splash balls". I know you were dying to know) and managed to NOT buy a Snickers bar (kudos to me for talking myself out of buying it). The rest of the day, we’ve been swimming, hanging out and reading. Now I believe I’m going to go pay bills. The excitement never stops here in BitchyLand! Happy Independence Day to the Americans in the crowd. And Happy Tuesday to everyone else!
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Anna and the King and The Talented Mr. Ripley over the weekend, and since they were due back yesterday, Fred accompanied me to return the movies, and then stop by the grocery store to pick up various and sundry items, and while he was in the movie store, he rented Deuce Bigalow, Male Gigolo and Bicentennial Man, neither of which I had the slightest interest in seeing. Well, smack my ass and call me Horace, ’cause I enjoyed Deuce a great deal. It was just really a cute little movie. Bicentennial Man, though, didn’t do much for me. We still have about 40 minutes of the movie left to watch, in fact, and unless there’s a twist ending (which I’m not ruling out) I’d have to go thumbs down on that movie. So we went to bed late last night – after 11:30 – and when I woke up this morning, it was so bright and sunny that I was sure it was at least 9 or so, but when I finally turned to look at the clock, it wasn’t quite 8. I went downstairs, where Fred was snoozing in the library after a rousing session with his lovah (ie: the computer), and we talked for a few minutes and then he called Dr. Judy’s office to see if they were open today (they were, which shocked the hell out of me), and he ran upstairs to take his shower and left to go weigh himself (he lost another 6 pounds in 7 days, woohoo!) and I did my exercise tape and then took a shower. It occurs to me that that’s perhaps far more detailed than y’all need. So after breakfast, I got all kinds of tired, and while Fred went downstairs to commune with his true love and then exercise, I dozed on and off, with Spanky curled up next to my legs and Ms. Poo curled up next to my stomach under the covers. Have I mentioned how I love my kitties? At lunch, I was reading an old US Weekly magazine, the one with Angelina Jolie and Billy Bob Thornton on the cover. Man alive, don’t those two give me the creeps. They had a picture of Angelina laying one on her brother (at the Golden Globes, perhaps? I don’t recall) and I’d swear there was tongue involved. The thought of kissing one of MY brothers ON THE MOUTH just makes me want to run away screaming, and I’m sure the feeling is mutual. Which reminds me of the times when Debbie and I were little girls and my father used to hold Randy down so that we could give him a kiss goodnight. Anyway, I’ve rambled on long enough. Y’all have a good 4th if you’re in the US, and have a good 4th even if you’re not! ]]>

Linens & Things, because I decided Fred needs a second set of sheets for his bed and I needed to look at the glass 9 x 13 pans, since one got broken yesterday (and as a side note, I’d redo my entire room in the white clouds on light-blue background motif, if given the chance). Oh yes, Robyn, good idea. And THEN I just HAD to stop by Wendy’s to pick up lunch (grilled chicken sandwich, side salad, large diet coke, for those of you keeping track at home), and THEN go to the bank on the way home. ‘Cause, y’know, banks aren’t BUSY or anything on the day before a holiday weekend. Goodness, no. By the time I got home, both my salad and sandwich were lukewarm, but my diet Coke was still ice-cold. And I did all that running around after spending 3 hours cleaning the house this morning. Which is an hour less than it took me last week. Go, me! So, I finished watching Hanging Up yesterday while Fred was on his exercise bike, and later as he was getting dinner ready, I groused “Meg Ryan goes out of her way to cut her hair in the least flattering hairstyles.” Not two hours later, I found that she and Dennis Quaid have split up! It’s like I did it myself, with the bitching about her hair. Dennis heard me and took a look and said to himself, “You know, that Bitchypoo is right…” Actually, according to TV Guide, Meg initiated the split, ’cause she’s getting it on with Russell Crowe. (I’d link to the article, but I can’t figure out the direct link) Also according to TV Guide (online, this is) 41% of Playboy fans would like to see Jenna do a pictorial, and 33% would like to see Colleen. Now, I subscribe to Playboy – why wasn’t I invited to vote? You know I want to see Rudy let it all hang out. Oh, yes. Speaking of Playboy, the most recent issue came in the mail today, with Darva Conger on the cover. This is the Darva who was so worried about her reputation, isn’t it? Well, she’s right smack-dab on the cover of Playboy with a blank lights-are-on-no-one’s-home look on her face. What a classy chick. And speaking of mail, I got a check in the mail today from Amazon, refunding the money for the auction I bid on in May. All I did was fill out their form about three weeks ago, and tah-dah! today in the mail, a check. They didn’t even ask for details, which makes me think perhaps I’m not the first one who had problems with that seller. I think it’s pretty cool that I didn’t have to jump through hoops. Have y’all heard the song “Steal my Sunshine” by Len? Well, go download it from Napster. I’ll wait. Now listen to it. Know who I thought sang the song the first time I heard it? Evan Dando and Julianna Hatfield. It sounds just like “It’s About Time”, at least it does in my memory. I’d better go listen to it to make sure… Hrm. Maybe it was “Drug Buddy” I’m thinking of. Anyway. Sounds just like them! Okay, I’ve yammered on long enough. Y’all have a good weekend, and a good 4th of July!]]>

Moe wig. Fred didn’t notice, or if he did he didn’t say anything – but unless my hair is “big” (in the Southern tradition), he tends not to notice it. I think part of the problem with my hair is that I had gotten used to seeing it a light red-brown color because it had faded a great deal since I’d had it colored last, and now it’s a dark medium brown. Speaking of the shower (in a roundabout way), I was in the shower this morning, and while I was on the final leg of the event (ie, rinsing), the kitten suddenly started meowing frantically. I turned and looked, and she was right outside the shower door, standing on her hind legs, peering up at me and trying to impart a message of some importance. I tried to speak reassuringly to her, but every time I said something, she howled even louder. When I turned off the shower and opened the door, she jumped up onto the shower seat and rubbed up against me, still meowing. I stepped out of the shower, she followed. I stood there drying off, she walked back and forth, meowing and rubbing up against me. When I got dressed, I picked her up and walked out to the computer room, and she let me hold her and pet her for about ten minutes, which she rarely does anymore. Finally, she jumped down and went about her business. I wonder what that was all about. We watched Survivor last night, of course. We weren’t surprised to see who won the Immunity Challenge – does it seem suspicious to anyone else that the teams are alternating winning the Immunity Challenges? Hard to believe that that’s just how the chips are happening to fall. Kelly‘s assuming she could kick Gervase‘s ass was a big tip-off to us who would actually win the challenge. (Fred pointed out that she’s a river guide, and what guides do is sit in the back of the boat and steer while everyone else paddles, but upon reading her profile, I see that she spent 21 days rowing a boat through the Grand Canyon, which sounds like a cool thing to do.) Is it just me, or do the cocky ones always lose? Speaking of which, did y’all see The Iron Chef New York on Sunday night? As soon as Bobby Flay said the obnoxious “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think I’d win!”, I knew he was going to lose. I mean, the Iron Chef ALWAYS wins, anyway, but I had thought that maybe Bobby would win this time, since the show was taking place in the US. The funniest part was when time was up and Bobby stood on his cutting board and threw his arms up like he was the champ, and the Iron Chef got all peeved. Well, pretended to get all peeved, anyway. That Bobby Flay sure is cute.]]>