Month: February 2004

The Bachelorette last night (we watched American Idol) and I managed to fuck it up and miss the first ten minutes or so of the show. Which is all that cute little Kelly Jo was apparently in, so I only got to see about ten seconds of her trying to explain something to the way-too-talkative Ryan. I was glad to see Ian and Lanny make it into the final four, but if Ian wants to go any further, he’d better start opening up. Also glad to see Ryan gone – that boy talked WAY TOO MUCH and he was too needy to boot. Cute guy, but he needs to calm down a tad. On American Idol last night, I was glad to see the pen salesman go through, as well as that cute little redhead – John Stevens? Something like that – and the girl whose name I cannot remember. She was in the group with Scooter Girl and she had purple (red?) dyed hair. To me, she looked JUST like Betty Boop, so now that’s what Fred and I call her. (Oh look, here she is! Amy Adams. Funny thing is that I had sucked it up and was going to go through all the contestants to find her and she was the first one!) I cannot believe that damn Lisa Wilson made it through, though. I liked her when she auditioned, but that whole blowing off working to hang out in the pool with that annoying guy (he didn’t make it through, did he? I hope not!) just got on my last nerve. Clearly I’m getting very old and crochety, when seeing kids partying instead of working for what they want pisses me off.

* * * I rented and watched Thirteen last week, and believe you me, folks, I gave a quick prayer of thanks at the end of the movie that the spud has never – and I’m willing to bet never will – put me through anything like that. Speaking of the spud, I turned on her computer to check her chat logs (don’t even look at me like that. She knows there’s no such thing as privacy on her computer when it comes to chatting and never will be as long as she’s young and dumb). I scrolled through the names, recognizing most of them (she does most of her chatting with me, her cousin Brian, my sister, my parents, and a few friends from school). I came to one I didn’t recognize and opened the log, figuring it was going to be a friend from school whose nickname I didn’t recognize. It was a 19 year-old guy from India, and what was the spud’s response? I DON’T KNOW YOU, I CAN’T CHAT WITH YOU, PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE. Cracked me up, it did. The guy responded with “Y?”, but she ignored him and he went away. Good spud. * * * Okay, it’s a crappy, windy, cold, rainy day, and I want to go sit on the couch in front of the fire and read and wait for the cable guy to show up, so I’ll toss up a bunch of Bean pics and call it an entry. Bitchy Bean. Nosy Bean. Sleepy Bean. “What the hell’s going ON?” Bean. Yawning Bean. Yawn-and-stretch Bean. Cute-n-cuddly Bean. Love-the-daddy Bean. Nighty-night Bean. (All pictures taken by Fred, who will complain if I don’t credit him.) ]]>

There goes another sign of Tubby, gone… and got teary-eyed. At bedtime, I was standing in the bathroom brushing my teeth, and Spot jumped up on the side of the bathtub and gave me his worried Momma, I can see a little piece of the bottom of the food bowl, are you going to let us STARVE to death? look, and so while I was brushing my teeth I got a scoop of cat food out of the covered garbage can in the closet, and I dumped the food into the bowl, and after tossing the scoop back into the garbage can I closed the closet door and then pushed the bathroom door open so that when Tubby came hauling ass into the bathroom to partake of the fresh food, he wouldn’t hit his head. And then I remembered, and I had to shut the bathroom door so that Fred, who was laying in bed reading, wouldn’t be subjected to the horrible sight of my cry face, and I cried and thought Tubby will never haul ass through that door, heading straight for the food and knocking everything and everyone out of his way, ever again. Then later, when we were laying in bed, I told Fred about how little things remind me anew of our loss strike me when I’m least expecting it, and I cried again. (But it was okay, because it was dark and he couldn’t see my horrendous cry face) And while we were laying there, the spud knocked on the door and said “Would you like to say goodnight to Tubby?”, and I cringed, because I thought it was a slip of the tongue, that she’d meant to say “Would you like to say goodnight to Miz Poo?” before she went back to her room, Miz Poo in tow. But it turned out that she was standing in the doorway holding the box that contains Tubby’s ashes and asking us if we wanted to say goodnight to them. So Fred and I each said “Goodnight, Tubby.” The spud went back to her room and shut the door. Fred whispered in my ear, “She is SO WEIRD sometimes!”, and I couldn’t help but agree, and then we giggled for several minutes.

* * * Today was a particularly busy day – in fact, this has been a particularly busy week – and I actually had to drag my ass out of bed at 6:00 so that I could exercise before I left for my 8:15 doctor appointment. I left a few minutes early and stopped by the post office to check the box, and found no less than SIX condolence cards from you crazy, wonderful people – thank you so much! I spent about an hour at the doctor’s office, then had to run to the other side of town to make a deposit at the bank, then ran home for about fifteen minutes to eat breakfast. That done, I had an appointment for a cut and color (one originally scheduled for last Wednesday, but I just knew that if I went in that day, Bev would smile and say “So, what’s been going on?”, and I would say “Oh, well, my ca-a-a-a-t die-ie-ie-ie-ied,” and start crying, and I would expose her to my horrible cry face and she’d have to go on disability, so I rescheduled for this week), so I ran out the door later than I’d intended to leave, but I got there only about two minutes late, and I’m usually more like 5 minutes late, so it was all good. I had my hair colored and cut and pouffed – I am aghast at the horror that is Helmet Head. This is what my hair looks like when it is curled under. This is why I do not curl my hair under when left to my own devices. and an hour and a half later I was on my way. To Sam’s, where I got caught in a time warp and what felt like ten minutes was actually an hour, but hey – I got a copy of The South Beach Diet (shaddup) for less than fifteen bucks, and I got 120 miniature gladiolus bulbs for less than fifteen bucks also, so it’s all good. A run by Target for a crate of clementines (where I saw a woman who was a dead ringer for Jane eating sushi), a stop by Wendy’s for a grilled chicken sandwich, and I was home by 1:30. Tomorrow’s going to be the first day I don’t have any appointments or errands to run, and I just may take advantage of the free time to clean the master bathroom. But then again, I may just sit on my ass and read. Who knows? * * * The spud took a pretty good picture of the Bean last week, so I made her send it to me. The yawningest cat that ever did live. * * * Interesting article, this. ]]>

up. Just one new kitty, but she was a cutie!

* * * Also finally – FINALLY – there’s a new cat movie up. This one stars the Bean (of course!). I call it “Mother, why must you torture me so by pointing that goddamn thing at me?” You’ll want to have your volume turned up so you can hear his sweet little voice.
Mister Boogers from Robyn Anderson on Vimeo. * * * We got a package in the mail from the wonderful Amy, who sent us some reminders of Tubby (warning – Tubby pictures below!): I’m going to put this on Fred’s desk. The spud claimed this one for herself. Damn kids! This one’s going up on the wall by my monitor so I can see his goofy little face whenever I want! Amy rocks, as do you all! * * * I mentioned yesterday (I think I mentioned it, anyway) that Fred got a new laptop on Friday. I got a little something too, something I’ve been wanting for a while, and in fact had decided I would start saving for, when Fred decided that if he was going to get a laptop, I should get something, too. (God I love that man!) What did I get? A 17″ LCD monitor! This one, to be exact. And I LOVE it. Strictly speaking, it’s the same screen size as my old monitor, but there’s more viewing room yet the monitor takes up a LOT less space on my desk. Did I mention that I love it, and it rocks? What did you THINK I was going to do with all that space on my desk? Cat pillow, of course! Miz Poo loves to sleep there, with her head by one of my speakers, and earlier when I was making the Bean movie, she kept staring at the speaker when she heard him meowing. Cute! If you look over in the corner by the smiley-face stuff, behind all the cameras, you’ll see the cool smiley-face cup and vanilla wafter cookie-scented candle Say sent me. I’ve sniffed the candle so often because it smells so good that I think I’ve killed off a few brain cells. Say also rocks. * * * I woke this morning at 3:45ish with a full bladder. After laying there for a few minutes hoping it would go away, I decided to get up and stumble to the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, stretching my “bad” (ie, plantar fasciitis-inflicted) foot so that it wouldn’t hurt when I stepped down on it. It suddenly came to my attention that there was a shadow in the doorway that I hadn’t noticed when I sat up, and as I turned my head to the side, I heard “Hey.” Which is when I realized that it was Fred, but my brain was already on the jump-and-scream track and to try to derail it would have meant certain disaster. So I jumped and screamed, slapping my hand to my chest and saying “Oh my GOD, you startled me!”, whereupon, of course, Fred laughed his ass off. Bastard. Oddly, I’ve had a couple of scary someone’s in the house dreams lately, ones that I wake from with my heart pounding and my eyes wide. I always dig an earplug from my ear and listen intently, look at the cats to make sure they’re not freaked out, and eventually fall back into an uneasy sleep. Of course, they don’t freak me out enough so that I attempt to sleep without earplugs, or even load the gun and put it under the pillow next to me, so I guess it can’t be freaking me out too much. I’ve begun sleeping very lightly, without earplugs, and my hand on a loaded gun at all times. Also, I’m a very good shot, even in the dark without my contacts in. Stalkers, beware! I think that Fred just likes to scare the hell out of me. I was sitting in front of my computer yesterday, under the impression that I was alone in the computer room, when his voice suddenly came from directly behind me, making me jump and scream. “I WISH YOU WOULDN’T SNEAK UP ON ME!” I yelled at him. He claimed that he wasn’t TRYING to sneak up on me, that he’s naturally a quiet walker, or something like that. Lies, all lies. Did I mention that he’s a bastard? * * * How can this possibly be comfortable? She is Poo, hear her roar. Miz Poo dug herself a nest in the blanket Nance gave me, and spent all day Sunday curled up there. I love this kitty. ]]>

new logo for February, by the lovely and talented Ann. Thanks, Ann!

* * * Yeah, after that halftime show last night, I’m having nostalgic memories of Britney and Aerosmith from a few years ago. I don’t care much about the fact that we saw Janet’s boobie (although, the thought of having a spike through my nipple sure does make me cringe), but I could have done without seeing Janet and Justin humping from one side of the stage to the other. My friend Liz called last night at 9:40ish when I was waiting for Survivor Allstars to come on (LOVED IT), laughing so hard I could barely understand what she was saying. It turns out that the assmonkey she divorced several years ago was a big Carolina Panthers fan. Liz, naturally, was rooting for the Patriots, and when the Patriots won, Liz called his house, jeered at him, and then hung up the phone. Did I mention that she hasn’t talked to him since they divorced? I’m sure he thought he was never going to hear from HER again and I know that hearing from her was a shock, because he called her back and called her a c u n t. She jeered at him some more until he hung up on her. While I know that story sounds like she’s a psychotic ex, I loathe her ex-husband – one of the biggest jerks I’ve ever known – so much that I think an unwelcome blast from the past is exactly what he deserved. Plus, I think she needed a little closure. Heh. * * * You have just won one million dollars: 1. Who do you call first? Assuming Fred’s with me when I find out I’ve won, I’d call my sister and my parents. Everyone else would get an email or find out through the Momvine. 2. What is the first thing you buy for yourself? Little yellow Beetle, with a SUNROOF, o’ course. 3. What is the first thing you buy for someone else? A house for my sister (with an extra wing where I could stay when I visited!) 4. Do you give any away? If yes, to whom? Of course – to my sister, to the no-kill shelter I volunteer for, to a few of Fred’s relatives. 5. Do you invest any? If so, how? I’m sure we’d invest as much as we could in a rock-solid no-risk mutual fund. * * * So, last week or maybe the week before, Fred and I were watching an episode of The Shield on DVD. A guy came on the screen, and Fred said “Huh. He looks familiar.” I said, “I know where I know him from, but I don’t know where you’d know him from”, then went on to tell him that the actor had played Dodger on China Beach. “He was a lot hotter on China Beach, though,” I added. This past Friday, I suggested that we watch the premiere episode of China Beach I’d gotten for Christmas. I put it in, and Fred kept one eye on the show while he fiddled around with his new laptop. “Where’s that guy who was on The Shield?” Fred asked. I wasn’t sure whether Dodger was on the first episode or not, and told him so. A few minutes later, up popped Dodger. (Known as Jeff Kober in real life) “Hey look, there he is!” I yelled to Fred, who was messing around with something in the computer room. I stopped and rewound the tape. “Oh yeah, that is him, isn’t it?” Fred said. He came out to get a better look. “I don’t think he’s better looking than he was in The Shield, though. I think he looks about the same.” I turned and gave him the what-are-you-talking-about? look. “When we saw him on The Shield, you said he was better looking in China Beach,” he said. “Um, NO I didn’t. I said he was HOT in China Beach,” I corrected. “Well,” Fred spoke as if he were talking to a very small, very stupid child. “It’s the SAME THING.” Good lord. The man thinks that “hot” and “good-looking” are the same thing! I tried to explain to him that one has nothing to do with the other – a man can be good-looking and nothing close to hot, or ugly as hell but sizzling hot – but I don’t think he believed me. Can I get some backup here, ladies? Complete with example, please. * * * Okay, I’m going to toss up a couple of cat pictures here and call it an entry. I had a busy, busy morning and it’s about lunchtime and I’m hungry. Excuses, excuses… (Pictures taken by Fred. I think.) Spanky, illustrating why sometimes we call him “Gomer”. Further illustration… “We must stop meeting like this…. ]]>