Month: February 2002

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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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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