Month: March 2004

* * * I hate my house. I hate the way all the doors are white and need to be scrubbed down because weird little stains develop at knee level and below and there’s just nothing in this world I want to do less than scrub DOORS, I hate the way if you think about brushing up against the wall a mark develops, I loathe the carpet on the stairs and the assholes who looked at this house before we bought it and tromped up the stairs and got mud on the carpet on the stairs in odd places, mud stains that I have been unable to get out lo these 2 1/2 years, I hate the way dust bunnies generate themselves in the corners of rooms and hallways, and then instantly regenerate, taunting me as they wave gently in the breeze, hate the spiders who create webs and then abandon them with shells of bodies still caught in the webs, and if I find a spider who has abandoned his crappy-looking web, I will smush without a second thought, I hate the way I manage to pile crap everywhere so that the house looks all cluttered, I hate the way three days after I’ve mopped the downstairs there are kitty paw prints on every exposed inch of the library floor. HATE. I hate my hair because I have to go to the friggin’ hair place every six weeks and have it colored and cut, otherwise I walk around with half-gray, half-colored hair that gets in my face, and I can’t stand that, and the chick who cuts my hair is perfectly nice but I hate the whole hair-coloring process because I hate sitting there in the chair for hours at a time with stinky shit on my head, trying to read my book, but wanting to fall asleep. Why is it that I always get so friggin’ tired when I have my hair done? I hate the spud’s school because their web site sucks and all I want to know is where the fuck I’m supposed to go for the parents-of-9th-graders orientation Thursday night, and there’s nothing anywhere about that, and it pisses me off. I hate my neighbors because why on earth would it not OCCUR to a grown man that running his damn sander in his garage WITH THE DOOR WIDE OPEN might wake people up who prefer not to be awake at 11:30 pm? And it pisses me off that it relieved us that when Fred went to talk to him the other night, the guy was both nice and apologetic. You’re goddamned right he should be apologetic, he should beg forgiveness! HATE. And damn that spud and her eyeballs which get more nearsighted every year, requiring new glasses and DAMN the eyeglass place where it still cost ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY NINE DOLLARS to get new lenses in the same frames. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY NINE DOLLARS, what the fucking fuck is up with that? Do little kids in sweat factories have to create the lenses with their teeth and nails, or what? Are they made of GOLD? JAYZUS.

* * * But I love my Jeep, at least for the moment, because the stereo plays mp3s, and I can listen to hundreds of songs that I love. I’m going to burn Stand By Your Man 150 times in a row and listen to it over and over, bellowing it at the top of my lungs in the neighbor’s driveway at 3:30 in the morning. Because I can. * * * The mighty hunter stops to chomp on a healthy snack of green weeds, keeping his coat shiny and his eyes bright. ]]>

Ellen from last week that I had DVR’d. They’re reruns, but I hadn’t seen them, so I’m kind of catching up. Leah Remini was a guest on one of the shows, and she was funny as hell. I had no idea she was that funny. It almost – but not quite – makes me want to watch The King of Queens.

* * * Watching Taken has made me the tiniest bit paranoid, I think. I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a couple of bottles of salad dressing for Fred (our regular grocery store doesn’t carry this particular salad dressing – Kraft Light Done Right 3-Cheese Ranch dressing, so I had to make a special trip to another grocery store). As I walked out of the store, I saw a man bent down in front of his car, SUPPOSEDLY looking up under it. I just KNEW that he was a bad guy and was going to come grab me and push me in his car, then cart me away to the super-secret headquarters of a super-secret goverment agency, where they’d poke and prod at me and do all kinds of nasty tests to study my mind. (Bwahaha! That’d be the shortest study in the history of mankind, eh?) I made the fist with keys sticking out between my fingers, ready to punch him in the face with my key fist if he came close to me. He straightened up as I approached and looked at me. Perhaps he changed his mind about approaching me because he saw my key fist, or maybe he just knew that I could kick his ass. In any case, he got in his nondescript government-issue-type car and started the engine. As I pulled out of the parking lot I looked in my rearview mirror, and who the hell do you suppose was behind me? That’s right, the bad guy! I managed to lose him with a few quick left turns, but you better believe I’m keeping an eye on the street. I see any nondescript government-issue cars, I’m grabbing Miz Poo and the Bean and hauling ass. (Spot and Spanky can fend for themselves) * * * According to a few Australian readers who emailed me overnight, there was a bit on a show called Media Watch about the whole Fred/ Frank thing. Curiosity brought me to the archives of The Australian and an article by Sally Jackson entitled “Aussie Makeover Too Extreme”, wherein is this little gem: (For the record, Australian Men’s Health editor Bruce Ritchie says that the Frank/Fred change was “a little white lie” while the local version of the column gets off the ground and that genuine Australians should feature from next month’s issue. He also says the mag’s content is predominantly local and that in some articles sourced from the US edition terminology is changed when it is deemed necessary.) “A little white lie”? I call it shoddy, lazy journalism and find Bruce Ritchie’s lack of remorse, his “Oh, we’ll just a change a few things and no one will ever know. And if they do, who cares?” attitude appalling. Asshole. * * * Pet store kitty pics are hither. * * * ]]>

Amy sent me a picture frame filled with pictures of Tubby, and I liked it so much that I put it up on the wall to the side of my monitor, so that any time I want to see Tubby, I can just cut my eyes to the right. A lovely side effect of hanging the frame where I did, is that I can use it almost as a mirror, so if Fred’s trying to sneak up on me, I can see him, know that he’s there, and thus am unafraid. Also, if Fred is sitting at his computer and I am sitting at mine, and the SPUD, who has suddenly become the most nosy person on god’s green earth, wants to stand in the kitchen and eavesdrop, I CAN SEE HER. But I realized this morning that as I was sitting in front of my computer and something in the picture frame/ mirror caught my eye and I looked into the frame to see what it was (it was the Bean, stalking across the top of the bar on his way to stick his face in the sink of water wherein chicken is defrosting, and DO NOT EMAIL ME TO TELL ME that thawing chicken in a sink of water is a one-way ticket to salmonellaville, I know that, and I care not. I’ve gotta die someday, it might as well be from salmonella. Do people die from salmonella?), and I realized that anyone watching me would think that I was, well, staring intently at the wall. So I think that cats use walls as mirrors in ways that mere mortals such as you and I cannot quite comprehend. The next time you see your cat staring intently at the wall, wave at him. He’s probably trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing.

* * * Friday night around 9:30 (I know! Late for us, but we had to stay up and watch an episode of Taken, and then we watched the Joan of Arcadia we’d DVR’d earlier. Big times, late nights, whoo!) Fred said “Are you ready for bed?” “Yeah, if you are,” I said. “Bring a book.” “A book?” “Yeah, a book. I think I’d like to read for a while before we shut the lights off.” I stared at him. “You’re telling me to bring a book.” “Yes, Bessie,” he said with exaggerated patience. “A BOOK, so we can read.” “You’re telling me especially to bring a book, because if you didn’t, I wouldn’t bring a book with me.” “I want you to have something to read,” he said kindly, perhaps worried that if I didn’t have a book to read, I’d just lay and stare creepily at the wonder that is Fredrick And3rson. “So you’re telling me to bring a book with me, because if you didn’t, I’d have nothing to read,” I said again. “Yes,” he said, sighing in that long-suffering way that should be grounds for murder. (“He sighed at me, your honor, and then I had to kill him.” “Case dismissed!”) “So it has escaped you that every single night for the past seven and a half years, the majority of which we’ve gone into the bedroom together, that I never ever go to the bedroom at night without taking a book with me?” I said slowly. “Don’t forget your book!” he said, and high-tailed it up the stairs. * * * 1. What was the last song you heard? Hey Jesus, by the Indigo Girls. 2. What were the last two movies you saw? Uh. Matchstick Men and Schindler’s List. 3. What were the last three things you purchased? A grilled California Cobb salad from McDonald’s, tickets to Hawaii, and bird seed. 4. What four things do you need to do this weekend? Find a hotel for when the spud and I are in Hawaii, do the backup-reformat-reinstall dance for my computer, vacuum the entire house, balance the checkbook. (And I did ’em all!) 5. Who are the last five people you talked to? Fred, the spud, my mother, my father, and the chick at McDonald’s (when I bought my salad). * * * I bought our tickets to Hawaii last night, and Expedia offered me a deal for a room for the entire time we’re there that I just couldn’t resist. Online reviews for the hotel are pretty good and it’s only about 3/4 mile from my father’s hotel, so I went for it. (Fred encouraged me to just go for it so I’d stop yapping about it. Awwww!) Originally the spud and I were going July 10th through the 17th and my sister and Brian were going to visit the week after, because there’s just the one hotel room that my parents will be staying in, and while 4 people can cram into one hotel room, 6 people makes it miserable and crowded. Once I saw the deal Expedia was offering with the hotel room, I changed the date of the tickets so that we’d be in Hawaii for the same dates as Debbie and Brian. Did you know that flying in and out of Hawaii on the weekend adds $150 to the price of your ticket? Good lord! So, the spud and I will be flying in on the 14th and out on the 21st, both Wednesdays, and we’ll have all day Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, and most of the day Wednesday (since our flight doesn’t leave ’til 9:30 pm!) with Debbie, Brian, and my parents. Well, except that my father will be working during the days. But, Hawaii! We’re going for sure! Even if my father’s trip were to suddenly fall through, the spud and I have a place to stay, so we’re going one way or the other. Whoo! Also, instead of only connecting once, in Atlanta, I chose the flight that would let us connect in Dallas and in San Francisco, since that breaks it up often enough so we won’t be sitting on the plane for 9 hours at a time. The longest flight we’ll be on is from San Francisco to Hawaii, which will be just over 5 hours. Of course, I just looked at our itinerary and found that we only have 25 minutes to get from one plane to the other in San Francisco. Fun! * * * Really not the most flattering angle.]]>

Survivor entry with spoilers. It looks a bit fucked up over there now, but you should be able to read the entry and leave comments if you want. I have no fucking clue what’s going on with that site. Grrrr.

* * * I sometimes have this really bad habit when I’m reading a book of imagining what I’d do if I were in the main character’s shoes. It doesn’t happen all the time – I didn’t, for instance, try to imagine what I’d do if I were Ethan Truman or Fric when I read The Face , though I did send mental “Don’t go in THERE!” screams at Fric – but if the character is a married woman I do tend to put myself in her fictional shoes. I’m currently reading Marriage: A Duet, which is a book comprised of two novellas. In the first, a woman who’s been married to her husband of 40+ years recalls the time he almost left her for a younger woman. I ended up imagining myself in her shoes, and ended up getting SO PISSED at Fred for having an affair with another woman and then asking me to wait while he tried to decide what he wanted to do, that I had to put the book down and walk away. BECAUSE FRED’S NEVER DONE ANY SUCH THING. Yet I was furious. Even while I was getting mad, I thought to myself “This has never happened to you, what’re you getting so pissed off about???”, and yet I had to put the book down for a while, or let myself get so mad I’d probably drive myself into stroke territory. I’m a total freak. * * * If you get to this journal by typing in “journal.bitchypoo.com”, you’ll note that things look a bit different around here. Movable Type, no matter how damn many times I rebuilt, would NOT rebuild the index page, and even Fred couldn’t figure it out, so he did some voodoo thing I don’t quite understand, where the calendar will update when I’ve updated, and I can edit the template in Dreamweaver. So if you’re used to going to that page and seeing the latest entry, you’ll have to click on the date on the calendar instead. I know it’s a bitch, sorry. But imagine how many calories you’ll burn by doing that extra click! ::snort:: You know, all these problems are making me long for the days when I just updated using Dreamweaver, even though it was a pain in the ass having to change all the before and after links by hand. * * * The spud and her class (possibly even the entire 9th grade, I’m not sure) went on a field trip to Montgomery yesterday, to visit the Shakespeare Festival. They left the school at 5:15 am, and were planning to stop for breakfast and then eat lunch at the mall. I gave the spud $30 (more than she would need, but it’s always better to have to much than too little, I’ve always thought) Wednesday night, and reminded her twice not to forget her money. When Fred and I were laying in bed Wednesday night, I said “Please make sure she has her money before you leave in the morning” and he said “Okay.” As Fred and the spud pulled out of the driveway a few minutes before 5, he said “Do you have your money?” and she said “Yes.” I’m sure you know where this is going. Apparently at the last moment the spud changed purses and forgot to put her money in the purse she actually took with her. And this is the child who is supposed to be behind the wheel of a car in the next few months? Eeek. Luckily one of her friends had enough money so that she could borrow some, or I’m thinking she would have been one hungry kid by the time she got home 12 hours later. * * * “I am the Queen of all that I survey…”]]>

* * * It’s apparently time to back up my computer, reformat and reinstall everything YET AGAIN. Although Adobe Acrobat Reader is installed on my system, whenever I try to see a .pdf file, my whole system locks up. Reinstalling doesn’t help, and Fred can’t figure out what the problem is. Also, opening Word is a ten-minute process, wherein I click on the Word icon, and it spends ten minutes opening. The Adobe Acrobat Reader wouldn’t be such a big problem except that we get our bank statements electronically now in – you guessed it – a .pdf file, and if I can’t see it, I can’t print it. If I can’t print it, I can’t balance the checking account. If I can’t balance the checking account, without a doubt there’ll be some huge-ass check that I forgot to enter in my checkbook and one day I’ll go to buy sushi with my debit card, and the debit card machine will say “You don’t have enough money, dumbass!”, and the cashier will give me a pitying (or annoyed) look and take my sushi away. And then I will have no sushi, and that can’t be anything but bad. Perhaps we should just start reformatting on the first of every month instead of waiting until something goes wrong. That sounds like a FUN way to start every month! OR MAYBE I JUST NEED A NEW COMPUTER.

* * * Anyone who asked me to invite them to Orkut and didn’t get an invitation yesterday, let me know. I added each person as soon as I got their email, but I think some of the invites didn’t go through. If you’ve got a email spamcatcher, you might want to check that, too. * * * (Pictures taken by Fred) The daffodils are blooming! You have no idea how happy this makes me. I love this picture of the Bean. He’s actually in the process of yawning, but he looks like he’s bitching at someone.]]>

* * * I had the weirdest dream last night. I was visiting Amy at her home on the ocean (!). It was a weird house, on stilts, about thirty feet up. You had to climb really steep steps to get to the door, and there was a bit of fencing around the landing at the top. I remember quite clearly thinking “I hope Amy doesn’t let Quinn out on the landing by herself. She could really get hurt!” (I’m sure Amy never would, not for a moment) The house was tiny, just one room, and the spud and I had to sleep on the floor. We had a big bonfire gathering on the beach with tons of people there, including Dr. Phil. Dr. Phil walked off, and I followed him, just in time to see him kill a homeless man and dump his body at the bottom of a pond. However, I couldn’t tell on Dr. Phil, because I was his lawyer (I was on The Practice!) and was his defense lawyer. But I got into Dr. Phil’s car so we could drive to court, and he started getting threatening, so I jumped out of the car (ouch. We were going fast!) and ran away as fast as I could. This is what happens when I stay up past midnight reading a Dean Koontz book, I guess.

* * * Miz Poo, high on the kitty pot, shows the Daddy just who the boss is. Meanwhile, the Bean lays next to the stash and vigorously cleans himself. ]]>

* * * Big congratulations to Jessamyn and Geoff, parents to a gorgeous bouncing baby girl. Welcome to the world, Kathleen Matilda!

* * * Pet store kitty pics are here. * * * Ever since we adopted the Bean, we’ve been discussing when to open the cat door to the back yard so the cats could come and go at will. Fred has been adamant on one point: we would not, under any circumstances, keep the cat door open at night. They could go in and out all day long until bedtime, and then if they weren’t inside or couldn’t be coaxed inside, they’d be stuck in the back yard overnight. Saturday night, Spot felt the need to go outside. At 1:30 am he sat outside Fred’s bedroom door and scratched at the door, howling as loudly as his damanged little vocal chords would allow. Fred opened the door and swatted at him with a pillow (call the animal cruelty people!), and Spot ran off. A few hours later, Spot thought it was a good idea to pick a fight with Spanky right outside Fred’s bedroom door. Howling and hissing and growling and yowling ensued. Fred stomped out of his bedroom, went downstairs, and opened the back door. Spot was out like a shot. Fred shut the back door but then, knowing what a spaz Spot is, opened it back up and then went back to bed. Later that day, Himself decreed that we might as well open the cat door and leave it open all the time. “At least until they start bringing animals inside,” he hastily added. So we opened the cat door, and the cats gathered around. The Bean had never been through a cat door, so we shoved him through it a few times, and he quickly got the idea. The other cats sniffed at the door (and we shoved them through it so they could remember how the whole thing works), but showed no real interest in being outside. We’ve had it open since Sunday afternoon. I saw Spot go out a few times, but other than that, I don’t think the kitties much care about it. Maybe in a few months when there are mice and bugs to catch and BRING INSIDE there’ll be more interest. Let the great Possum Invasion begin! * * * So after some hemming and hawing and thinking and considering and procrastination, I installed WordPress (Fred did the actual installing; but then you knew that, right?) and began a TV/ Movie blog over here. I’m sure I’m not the first one to have thought of the name “Couch Potato” for a blog like that. Anyway, that’s where I’ll do the occasional TV/ Movie post. You can safely assume that there will be spoilers in each post so if’n you get spoiled, don’t blame me! That’s not the final design, but it’s probably pretty close to it. I like the ease of WordPress and while I don’t think I’m going to switch this journal over to WordPress, I may move OFB from Diaryland back to my own domain. We’ll see. * * * The Bean contemplates the eternal question. “If Miz Poo runs downstairs as fast as her big butt can go and I hide under the bottom stair like I always do, at what exact point do I need to reach out and grab her leg so that she’ll go flying into the wall?” ]]>

here, on Kristen’s site. You’re welcome. 🙂 Other searches: Cat food (we use Purina ONE, the Urinary Tract Health kind) +hair +washed (perhaps this has something to do with the movement toward not using shampoo anymore that several journalers/ bloggers are taking part in? I’m not doing that, because I can’t stand the thought of not washing my hair every day) haircut (I’m going for the next one on the 17th!) dogster (It’s here, but I don’t have a dog, so I’m not a part of it. I’m still waiting for Catster!) These are all searches on my site using the “Search this site” link over there to the right, by the way, not Google hits. (Did you know you could search my site? I have no way of knowing who’s searching on what, by the way, so search away to your heart’s content!) The Google hits have gone way down in the last few weeks, thank god.

* * * Fred got bitchy with me this morning because I told him I turned on his laptop and installed Trillian to give it a try. “I like it when my computers keep working!” he huffed at me. “I never have any problems with MY computer, but once you start installing shit, it all goes to hell!” Well, I NEVER. (Too bad it’s true!) Trillian seems pretty cool, thanks to y’all who suggested it. I think if I get a chance later today I’m going to install it on my computer and check out all the bells and whistles. Hey! We should schedule a weekly bitchypoo chat! That would be cool, eh? * * * So I’ve given up my boycott of Applebee’s, mainly because the spud wanted to go OUT for dinner Friday night, since we’ve had pizza every Friday night for about the last month. Also, I really wanted some chimicheesecakes. We left the house at four (we believe in eating early on Friday) and slowly made our way to Applebee’s in the pouring rain. When we got to Applebee’s, as I was looking for a place to park, a limo pulled around the corner and then sat in the way, blocking me for a few moments. “I wonder who’s in the limo!” the spud said excitedly, her mind no doubt dancing with images of that dreamy Elijah Wood. “No one famous, I’m sure,” I scoffed, then pulled into a parking space once the limo slowly drove past us and stopped again. “It’s probably just the limo driver getting something to eat.” We got out of the car and headed for the restaurant. Just ahead of us, two men – good ol’ boys if I’ve ever seen ’em – walked into the restaurant and headed for the bar. I could see part of one of their faces. That almost looks like Tim McGraw, I thought to myself. But I think Tim McGraw is taller than that. We walked into the restaurant and I requested a booth in the non-smoking section. The spud and I sat down and began trying to decide what we wanted. After we’d placed our drink orders and then our food orders (the spud got the Oriental Chicken Salad Wrap, and I got the Crispy Orange Chicken Skillet), I looked around the restaurant. At just after 4:00, it wasn’t terribly busy – which is one of the reasons we eat so early when we go out. At the bar sat several guys, including the two we’d seen walking into the restaurant just ahead of us. I could see just a sliver of the face of the guy I’d thought looked like Tim McGraw. I decided the only reason I’d thought he looked like Tim McGraw was because of the sideburns. This guy was definitely NOT Tim McGraw. And yet, there was something SO familiar about him… The light dawned. That guy, I thought to myself, looks an AWFUL lot like Larry the Cable Guy. Three chairs down from him sat a guy in a t-shirt with “GIT-R-DONE!” on the back. GIT-R-DONE is Larry the Cable Guy’s catch phrase, if you didn’t know. I sat and stared at the guy, hoping he’d turn so I could see more of his face. He never did turn around enough, but when I heard his voice I decided I was about 75% sure it was him. I pulled out my phone. I am pretty sure Larry the Cable Guy is sitting at the bar, I text messaged, because I didn’t want Larry or his entourage to hear me saying it out loud. Two minutes later, my phone rang. It was Fred, of course, saying “Did he say “GIT-R-DONE”?!” We talked for a few minutes, and then as I ended the call my food arrived. Crispy Orange Chicken Skillet? Two thumbs up. Yum-may! While I was eating, my phone rang. I answered it, and Fred said “He’s doing a show at the Von Braun center tonight! That’s got to be him!” Whereupon I began lamenting the fact that I had left the house without a camera, and also that my phone doesn’t take pictures. “If I had a camera, I’d go over there!” I said. “You can still go over there!” Fred said. “No, that’d be lame.” So I didn’t go over there, but I did spend the rest of my meal staring over at him, willing him to turn around just for a moment. I took a good look at the guys sitting around him, hoping maybe Ron “Tater Salad” White might be along for the ride, but no luck. I spent the weekend feeling very proud of myself for identifying him with only a sliver of his face to go by. And then this morning? I looked on his web page and realized that he was in Huntsville on THURSDAY, and by Friday evening was supposed to be doing a show in Illinois. FRED messed it up when he looked at Larry’s show schedule. I don’t know, though. Maybe Larry had to stay an extra night because of the weather or something. That guy sure did sound like him. * * * I was looking through some old pictures last night, and look what I found: That’s me, as a baby. That’s not my mother holding me, though, it’s a friend of my mother’s. That’s my mother sitting across the room SMOKING A CIGARETTE. When I talked to her last night and said “You were practically blowing smoke in my face!”, she got all indignant – “I’m SURE I wasn’t BLOWING SMOKE in your FACE!” Heh. That’s me, at the age of 3 1/2ish. I hated that friggin’ bathing suit. My mother made it for me, and there were two snaps at the crotch, and every time I came out of the water, the snaps had come undone, and I couldn’t snap them myself, so I’d scream for my mother to help, and her friends (who, I’m certain, were plastered) would laugh and laaaaaaaugh. Bastards. * * * I have no kitty pics for you today, but Fred did an all-Stanley-Bean entry over the weekend. Go check it out! ]]>

* * * The spud came downstairs as we were watching Extreme Makeover last night to report that her “enter” key was no longer working for her. Fred went upstairs to check it out, and ran AdAware to see what was going on. AdAware found over 200 things, only a fraction of which were cookies. The spud, it appears, will download anything. If something pops up and offers to install something on her system, she goes along with it. She had 12 huge, bulky screensavers, search bars on her desktop, and god knows what else. Clearly she takes after her mother. I was about to download AIM the other night when Fred stopped me and informed me that it hijacks your something or other and even if you uninstall it, it reinstalls the next time you open AIM. I guess I’ll stick with MSN Messenger, then.

* * * I’m such the Gladys Kravitz. The people next door are having some kind of work done on the interior of their house. A couple of guys have been running a saw for the better part of a week. I don’t know if they’re building shelves, or hardwooding the floors, or what, because they come out on the front porch to cut the wood they need, and then carry it back inside and shut the door. Every time I hear the saw go, I press my face to the window to see if I can figure it out, but there’s a part of their porch that blocks my view, and it’s driving me crazy. You suppose they’d mind if I went over after dark and pressed my face up against the window to see what’s going on? * * * What was… 1. …your first grade teacher’s name? You know, there was a time when I could name every single one of my teachers through the 8th grade, but that’s no longer true. I attended first grade on Kinchlo3 AFB in Michigan and I know I had a Mrs. Radecki for one of the grades I attended at that school, but I can’t swear it was first grade. 2. …your favorite Saturday morning cartoon? Bugs Bunny! Actually I think it was the Bugs Bunny and Roadrunner show, but I hated the hell out of that stupid Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote. 3. …the name of your very first best friend? No clue. I remember a Candy Rhoades when we lived in Michigan, and also a Katie. When we lived in Guam, I had a friend named Sherri Roberson (or perhaps Robinson, I don’t remember which), and also Suzanne Dembinski. I can’t say for sure who my first best friend was, though. 4. …your favorite breakfast cereal? Fruity Pebbles! 5. …your favorite thing to do after school? When I was in middle school, I’d get home from school and watch the second half of As the World Turns I was hooked on that show for a good many years. * * * You’ve got to check out Fred’s blog link for today. It rocks! Well, if you’re a William Hung fan you’ll think it rocks, anyway. * * * “If I smack him really hard, will he get the hell out of my way?” ]]>

SURVIVOR ENTRY – SPOILERS WITHIN You know, I have to say that I really felt sorry for Sue. It was clear that what happened with Richard really bothered her on a deep level, and like I’ve said, NO one cries alone when I’m around. I felt really awful for her; I feel that she was genuinely in some emotional pain. She’s been a favorite of mine since the very first time I heard her refer to herself as a redneck, and I was sad to see her go. But I had to laugh when I saw Jeff’s face after Sue let him have it. He was NOT expecting that, and he looked a little shell-shocked. It’s interesting that when Jenna was ready to go, he put her through the third degree and solicited everyone’s opinion, but last night he only asked a couple of questions and then she was on her way. I hate that Sue’s tribe did the whole “Ding dong the witch is dead!” thing. It was inappropriate and not funny at all. Besides, who the hell wants to see Tom dancing around without a shirt on? I can’t wait to see what the twist is next week! It’s too early for the family reward challenge. Are they bringing voted-out survivors back? I want to see Rob C. back – I was telling Fred last night that I wish he hadn’t been voted out. Oh, and I wish Jerri would shut the hell up with the food talk. It’s as bad as Survivor: Australia when she and Amber laid around and moaned about food. It makes me want to smack her, and I’ve been liking her this time around. Also, Boston Rob? SHUT UP YOU ASSMONKEY. Why has no one voted his ass off yet? Colby’s really getting on my nerves, too. I hope that his ass gets voted off as soon as possible, and that Shii An says “Yeah, I felt it was time to MAKE A DECISION, YOU JACKASS!” as his torch is being snuffed out. Fred hates Shii An, but I love her. I also love Alicia. I’d love to see a final four of, say, Shii An, Alicia, Lex, and Rupert. I wouldn’t know who to root for!]]>