Month: October 2004

Sea Captain’s House – and had the buffet for breakfast. They had these little pastries that were just awesome, and of course they had biscuits and gravy and grits, so we were all happy. After stuffing ourselves at breakfast, we went back to the apartment where we sat around and watched a little more TV before deciding that it was such a beautiful day we needed to go shopping. My father said he’d stay at the apartment – I think he was glad the spud and I were there so he didn’t have to go shopping, because he’s not so crazy about shopping, crazy man – and my mother, the spud, and I left. During our driving around the night before my father had pointed out places to shop. Since my mother doesn’t really drive if there’s someone else to drive (I do the same thing!), I drove the Jeep and we headed straight for Barefoot Landing. Barefoot Landing is very, very cool. It’s a shopping center with a lot of little shops, then there’s a small lake with boardwalks across to the other side in three places, and on the other side are more shops and restaurants. In the lake are ducks and carp, and you can buy duck/ fish food from a dispenser and feed them.

(One of the few places we didn’t eat ice cream at while we were in SC) We got some excellent bargains in the first few shops we visited – I got a pair of Tevas to use as water shoes for $16, another pair of Tevas and some sandals. Now, when it comes to sandals, I can’t stand to wear the kind with the strap that goes between your toes, but I found a pair of Bass sandals that I liked so much I convinced myself that I could get used to the feeling. Before we got through the first five or six stores, we had to send the spud back to the Jeep twice to drop off our bags. We stopped and had Diet Cokes at Johnny Rockets and talked for a while. Refreshed, we went back out to do some more shopping. I don’t remember the name of it, but there was a shop with great t-shirts, and I ended up buying three of them for Fred (I’ll have to take pictures of those at a later date). They also had a PERFECT t-shirt for him, but I didn’t buy it for him, because it was in black, and we just can’t have dark shirts in this hair due to all the cat hair. After an ice cream cone and a trip to the bathroom, we decided to head for the other side of the lake. First we stopped and fed the ducks and fish. (click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) Once we got on the other side of the lake, we did more shopping (but of course) and found another place to stop and feed carp, only these carp were absolutely huge – three feet long and willing to kill each other to get to the food. There were a couple of small turtles who kept getting knocked out of the way by the carp, so I lured the carp to one part of the boardwalk, and then my mother dropped food for the turtles. (click on image to see the full-sized version) We did a little more shopping, but my feet were starting to hurt and it was getting late – I think we did about 5 hours of shopping that day – so we headed back to the apartment. On the way out of the Barefoot Landing parking lot we saw Dick’s, which a few of you had mentioned in the comments to the entry where I let y’all know I was going to Myrtle Beach. I didn’t have internet access while in Myrtle Beach, but Fred read my comments and told me what they said. I pointed it out to my mother and claimed that Fred’s sister had recommended the restaurant and suggested we go there for dinner. My father was amenable to visiting Dick’s for dinner, so after we all freshened up, we got in the car and headed back to Barefoot Landing. We went in and sat down and looked around to see a lot of the other people there wearing condom hats with obnoxious things written on them. The waitress came to take our drinks order, and then she delivered our drinks and as she was walking away she turned and flung a handful of straws at the table. (click on image to see the full-sized version) We were sitting there looking at the menu, trying to decide whether we wanted an appetizer when a guy walked up and without a word started putting bibs on the spud and my father. Since my mother and I were on the other side of the table, he threw our bibs at us and walked off. It’s somehow funny as hell when you walk into a restaurant knowing that the wait staff is going to be rude to you, and then they are. We ordered an appetizer platter (the waitress said “They’re your arteries!”) and then my mother and I ordered the half rack of ribs, the spud ordered the caesar salad, and my father ordered the fish and chips. The food was excellent, and despite the rudeness the service was excellent as well. We were almost done eating and half-hoping the waitress wouldn’t make hats for us, when she walked up with them. She eyeballed the spud, picked up one of the hats, and wrote something on it. She plopped it on the spud’s head, I read what it said, and burst out laughing. (“That rotten smell is coming from my ass”) Poor spud. She took off her hat, read what it said, and turned bright, flaming red. Then the waitress did my father’s hat, one for me, and one for my mother. (Dad – “Rogaine is screwing me”) (Mom – “Same panties day 3”) (Me – “My new thong is killing my butthole”) The worst one I saw was at a table of four guys who had the same waitress as us. The first hat she did said “My ass is killing me from the pounding I got last night” and an arrow pointing at the guy sitting next to him. The guy read it, his face turned bright flaming red, and he immediately took it off and wouldn’t put it back on. It was a good restaurant and the rudeness was entertaining (the waitress, upon asking if we wanted dessert, said “It’s gotta be better than the crap you had for dinner.”) but I don’t know if it’s so much a restaurant you want to take a kid to. The spud was pretty horrified by her hat (though she was willing to put it back on so I could take a picture of her in it; she’s such a good sport) and when she read the “My ass is killing me” hat on the guy a few tables over, she turned so red she about burst into flames. Oh, digression: I got a look from a guy sitting at the table behind ours, not once but twice. I got the definite feeling it was a “Hey, I read your journal!” look. Anyone want to confess? Anyway, we left Dick’s and then walked along the boardwalk/ bridge leading to Alligator Adventure (which was closed) and looked at the turtles, ducks, and fish in the pond. The sun was going down and it was kind of pretty. It was while I was trying to zoom in on one of the turtles that I realized that the zoom wasn’t working – that is, the lens would zoom in, but once zoomed, it wouldn’t focus on what I was trying to take a picture of, and the pictures were extremely blurry. I hadn’t realized that was going on earlier in the day, which is why I don’t have any pictures of the 3-foot-long carp to show you. (click on image to see the full-sized version) We walked back to the car and then drove over to the Alabama Theatre (that’s Alabama the group, not the state) to look through their gift shop. None of us saw anything we wanted to buy, so we got BACK in the car and went to a store called, simply enough, Bargains. If you’ve ever been to Gatlinburg or Ft. Walton Beach, you’ve seen those stores called Wings, right? Bargains is the exact same kind of store – all the t-shirts and souvenirs you could ever want. They had small aquariums with itty bitty frogs and snails in them, with a sign saying that the aquariums only needed to be cleaned out 3 – 4 times a year and you’d get a free year’s supply of food thrown in if you bought one. I spent a long, long time looking at the frogs – they were so frickin’ cute! – but in the end decided it was the last thing we needed. I still kind of wish I’d gone ahead and bought one, though! I bought some t-shirts and a keychain, and my mother bought the spud a fleece zip-up jacket, and then we headed back to the apartment for the night. More about Myrtle Beach tomorrow. Lucky you! * * * “Don’t make me come kick your ass, water bottle. Because I will, and you’ll cry like the pansy you are.” ]]>

hand Tucker Carlson’s and Paul Begala’s asses to them on a platter? I do so love the Jon Stewart. I’ve loved him since his MTV days and have loved him all these years and I called dibs on him years and years ago, so y’all just quit it with trying to claim him as your boyfriend. He is my secret boyfriend and has been for years. Even Fred approves.

* * * Let’s see… where to begin? First of all, I decided that if I was going to drive to Myrtle Beach and back, I needed to rent a car rather than drive my Jeep, because I wasn’t completely certain that my Jeep would make it. So I reserved a compact car, and when I showed up at Enterprise Saturday afternoon, they asked if it was okay if they gave me a free upgrade. “Sure!” I said, because I am flexible and kind and to get a bigger car for free? What am I going to say? “NO! I MUST have the Ford Focus!”? Please. So I expected they’d upgrade me to something like a Saturn or Ford Tempo. Not quite. What I got upgraded to was a brand-spankin-new Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo in dark red. For an entire week it cost me about $150. You just can’t beat that with a stick. Not only did it have a decent stereo and CD player, it also had cruise control, and if you’re driving long distances on interstate roads, cruise control is an absolute life saver. The spud and I left Madison at 6 am Sunday morning. She pretty much slept for the first few hours until I had to stop to pee and get something to drink, and then she… slept for another hour until it was time to stop for breakfast. We had egg mcmuffins for breakfast, stopped a few hours later for gas and snacks, drove a few more hours, stopped to pee, drove a few more hours, stopped for lunch, drove a few more hours, stopped to pee and gas up, and drove for a few more hours. You get the idea. Mapblast and Mapquest both said that the drive would take about 10 hours, but I scoffed and guffawed, because SURELY they were talking about people who would drive the speed limit and I intended to drive exactly 10 miles over the speed limit whenever possible (digression: I’ve never ever been stopped when going 10 miles over the speed limit – I’ve always understood cops “allow” you that much before they bother to stop you – and so I am usually mostly careful (when on interstate roads, mind you) to keep it to 10 miles over the speed limit. But coming back on Thursday I was going around Atlanta at 85 in a 65 mph zone, and people were blowing by me like I was standing still, including at least three cops. Maybe my silly little 10-miles-over rule is outdated?). So I did some math – some of that fuzzy math – in my head, and decided I could probably do the trip in 9 hours. Try 10 hours and 15 minutes. I guess I hadn’t factored in the fact that all those stops took time. But I will say that as much as I was dreading the drive itself, the drive really and truly wasn’t bad at ALL. I never had to look too far to find a station playing country music, I brought plenty of CDs with me, and the spud didn’t do a whole lot of chattering, thus my brain didn’t leak out of my eyes. Anyway, we got to Myrtle Beach after 5, Eastern time. The place we were headed for was Ocean Forest Colony on North Ocean Blvd, so when I got on that street I called my father to tell him that we were nearby. The spud watched the street numbers while I talked to my father, and then my father said “Wait! Stop! You just passed it!” So I had to drive up and turn around, and by the time I got back to the place, my mother was standing in the parking lot waving us in. It was a small building – three floors, four apartments on each floor – and we had to climb two flights of stairs to the second floor (though now that I think about it, if you consider the ground floor the first floor, we were really on the third floor, but there were no apartments on the bottom floor). The spud and I unpacked in about five minutes flat – this is what the floor plan looked like; we were sharing the room with two twin beds on the non-ocean side of the apartment – then we went out on the balcony and looked at the ocean, and I finally said “Let’s go down to the beach!” Which we did. We walked along the beach and my mother and I talked and the spud and my father collected shells. There were tons of shells everywhere, and it took the spud about two minutes to get a huge plastic cup full of perfect, unbroken shells. (click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) After half an hour or so of walking on the beach, we headed back to the apartment to get ready to go out for dinner. We sat around and talked about where we were going to go, and my father finally proclaimed that we were going to go to “the buffet place”, and we headed out in their rental Ford something-or-other car. We ended up at The Great American Steak & Buffet Company, which I’ve seen before, but never been in. I do love me a buffet, and this was an awesome buffet with anything you could ever want. I had an excellent piece of fried chicken, some seafood salad, and a bunch of other stuff which I can’t recall at the moment. I’d definitely recommend it. After dinner we drove around Myrtle Beach for a little while. It was dark, so we drove verrrry slowly past some of the houses across the street from the beach. A lot of people in Myrtle Beach apparently don’t really think to close their blinds, so we had a good time peering into lit rooms and seeing how they had their houses set up. When our sightseeing tour was over, we headed back to the apartment and sat around reading and watching TV. I had to wait until 10 to call Fred, since I was on Eastern time and he was still on Central time, so I talked to him for half an hour or so, then went straight to bed. At home, I sleep in a queen-size bed, so the twin bed I slept in while in Myrtle Beach took some getting used to. Plus, it was too soft (I prefer a firm mattress) and I kept hearing an annoying humming noise all night long. At 5 am I finally realized that the humming noise that was making my brain vibrate was the ceiling fan which I’d turned on the night before. I turned it off and the humming stopped, but without any air circulating I had to kick all my covers off because I started sweating almost immediately. (Good thing for the spud I was sleeping in shorts and a t-shirt instead of nekkid like I do at home, eh?) When I stumbled out of bed at about 7:45 the spud had just gotten up and she and my father were out on the balcony looking down at the beach. It was warming up, the sun was shining, the seagulls were screeching, and it looked like we had a beautiful day ahead of us. (click on image to see the full-sized version) This is getting long, so more Myrtle Beach recap tomorrow, mm’kay? * * * Licky McLickerson. ]]>

South Carolina is gorgeous and I want to move there RIGHT NOW. But alas, no mountains close by, so I won’t be convincing Fred to move there anytime soon. Hmph. Real entry Monday, I promise.]]>

Isn’t it odd that I’m number THREE to mention wanting to see the inside of your fridge & freezer. It must be from all the times I’ve watched Cribs on MTV. The 2nd picture would be a shot of the gym in the garage. The 3rd picture would be a shot of both of your vehicles together. No wait!! Change the 2nd picture to the inside of your closet! You seem like such a clean person, I’d like to see how you organize your closet. See yesterday’s entry for the inside of the fridge. We have two freezers, so here’s the big one we keep in the garage:

Those zillions of brown bags at the bottom of the freezer are bags of coffee. There’s usually a lot of chicken in here, but we just used up the rest of it. We have way more freezer space than we really need. Here’s the freezer in the house: You can see the big-ass version of this picture here. I’m going with the shots of the gym instead of the two vehicles side-by-side, because Fred’s vehicle is at work with him and I just put up a picture of his vehicle yesterday. Just imagine a very dusty amethyst Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited (mine) sitting next to a [vehicle type deleted] (heh) and you’ll know what that picture would look like. The gym: The gym set, and part of the benches. See the big-ass version of this picture here. The elliptical trainer, the benches, and over by the freezer, the bicep/ tricep bench. See the big-ass version of this picture here. And the closet: I do NOT know what on earth makes you think I’m a clean person, Lori. Have I mentioned that I can go weeks without cleaning the bathroom? I hate cleaning. And the closet’s not terribly organized. To the right hanging off the long side of the closet are all my hangable clothes. The stuff on the end are Fred’s work shirts. To the left (though you can’t really see them) on the top are Fred’s t-shirts, and on the bottom are his jeans and shorts. Um, I swear that’s not as organized as it sounds… Several people wanted to see a picture of the three of us together: Yeah, it’s an old one. It’s the best you’re gonna get for now. And Martha wanted to see my toes: That crease by my ankle is because I just took my sock off to take this picture. That foot’s the one that was splashed by grease seven (!) years ago. Can you tell I’ve never had a pedicure? More pictures in upcoming entries! * * * It’s starting to get cold. I’m sitting in front of my computer, and I am FREEZING, and the air is turned off, but I’m still sitting here shivering. I suppose that wearing a t-shirt when it’s in the mid-60s outside is not the way to go. I guess I’m going to need to go find the cardigan I wear all winter long, and put that on. I need to do laundry, but I don’t wanna go upstairs. I need to go to the post office, but I’m feeling lazy. I’m thirsty, but I’m too lazy to go find my bottle of water. I’m just going to sit here and whine about being cold and thirsty, I suppose. Sounds like a plan! We watched Wife Swap last night and when the dreadlocked environmentalist burst into tears not once but many times and the popeyed freaky woman sobbed loudly and apologized to the stuffed animals and sobbed “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” we laughed our asses off. Wife Swap is far and away better than Trading Spouses – it’s clear that Trading Spouses is a half-assed knockoff of Wife Swap. I’ve started cross-stitching again after many months of not cross-stitching at all. Two years ago I told the spud that if she chose a cross-stitch kit out of a catalog, I’d order it and cross-stitch it for her. I assumed she’d choose a kitty picture or something like that. Instead, she chose a picture of the Statue of Liberty with an American flag behind it, and “United We Stand” above it. Not what I expected, I’ll tell you that much. It’s not a huge picture, but the Statue of Liberty is taking forever to do, and it’s boring as hell. I guess next time I’ll think before I make an offer like that! Okay, I’m going to call this an entry. They can’t all be award-winners, folks. Sorry ’bout that. Oh, wait – no I’m not! Y’all have a good weekend. * * * (Picture taken by Fred and stolen by me.) ]]>

here.

* * * Two or three people pointed out that since Gmail offers such a large amount of storage space I don’t need to delete anything anyway, but one of my Gmail accounts is used for nothing but notify emails and I generally get anywhere between ten and twenty of those a day, plus the Change Detection emails, and I don’t think there’s any reason to save any of those. Plus on my non-notify email, I just refuse to save the “What’s for dinner?” emails. Maybe someday I’ll wish I had, but I kinda doubt it. * * * Okay, time for some requested pictures. rundmc wanted: 1.Pics of Fred in his red shorts. 2.Pics of Fred in his red shorts. 3.Pics of Fred in his red shorts. Fred won’t pose for pictures in his red shorts. He’s a party pooper! Sandy wanted to see: 1) Your purse 2) Inside of your fridge 3) Your collection of bath products My purse: It’s a microfiber Healthy Back Bag from LL Bean, and I love it, not only because it’s better on my back than a regular purse, but also because it has convenient outside pockets for my keys, cellphone, and sunglasses, so I don’t have to go digging for those. The inside of the fridge: See the huge full-size version here. My collection of bath products: This is literally the stuff I use in the bathtub – bath bombs from Newfoundland Naturals (and one I got last Christmas from my sister), bath salts from Newfoundland Naturals, a couple of packets of bath salts that I got in Hawaii, and Pretty Baby Herbal Bath Tea from these folks. The bath tea is wonderful because it’s so incredibly soothing and when my skin is at it’s itchiest, it’s the only thing that helps. The Newfoundland Naturals stuff is amazing because it smells SO good, and you don’t get any annoying floaties in the tub like you do with some of the Lush bath bombs. Lastly, many many many of you wanted to see a picture of Fred’s new vehicle, because it’s killing you to know what he’s driving. He kindly took the picture himself, just for you. It was getting dark out, so it might be a little bit blurry: There’ll be more pictures in upcoming entries; I didn’t want to put them all up in the same entry. * * * So, the spud has a blog on a blogging site (and no, I’m not giving you the link because the last time she had a blog on a different site and I shared the link, a couple of people decided to be assholes, so blame it on them) and most of her friends do too. Naturally, I check out her blog and then check out the blogs of her friends, because a mother needs to be careful that her kid isn’t doing something like posting her phone number online (and horrifyingly, a LOT of these kids put their cell phone numbers on their blogs, yikes!) Some of the blogs are well-written, if not interesting (of course, I’m not 15, so I’m probably not in their desired demographic anyway and I’m sure they’d find me incredibly annoying and boring and whatEVerrrrrrrr) but the majority of the blogs are just so poorly written to the point of illiteracy that it makes my eyes bleed. ANYway, one of the kids who has a blog and leaves comments on the spud’s blog is the kid who asked her out last Spring, and then had to break up with her because she doesn’t attend church. Although I might be biased because I can’t stand the kid because he’s a whiny little bitch (and thus we shall call him “Phil” after the father of all whiny little bitches, Phil Hellmuth) he has one of the worst sites that make it clear he’s a friggin’ idiot. But I’m probably biased because he made my baby cry. So late last week he posted a comment on the spud’s site saying that he was getting a car, woohoo! So she posts in HIS comments and asks what kind of car, and “do you have an actual license yet?” and then HE posts in HER comments and says “No, not yet. God. U sux the fun out of everything.” Apparently he’s been kind of snappish with her lately, which I think is out of line, because hello? It’s not like the whiny little shitweasel is her BOYFRIEND or anything. So she goes over to his site and posts in HIS comments that she’s sick of his fucking attitude and he can shove it and what the hell is up his fucking ass anyway? And they are NOT friends anymore! Buh-bye! I read her post in his comments (and yeah, I’m so lame for stalking my own child’s blog, aren’t I? Do I have too much time on my hands, or what?) and I laughed my ASS off. Because she’s always so calm and shy and conflict-avoidance, just like her MOMMA, and here she is, putting the smack down on shithead, complete with dropping the f-bomb all over the place! Then I made Fred read it, and he teased her about it, and she turned all red and got embarrassed and I think she thought she was going to be in trouble, but I gave her a high five and said “It’s about TIME you told him how it is! You go!” and she looked pleased. Now, when Fred wants to tease her, he says “U sux the fun out of everything.”, or if she makes a comment about something, he gives her a fake glare and said “Is that because U sux the fun out of everything?” and she thinks it’s funny as shit. That’s what it’s like in this house – we make fun of each other all the time, but if some whiny little bitch hurts my kid’s feelings, we band together to make it clear that he’s a ridiculous little ass and we mock him forever and ever. I believe the spud will find that particular life skill valuable as she grows up. * * * Miz Poo will kick your ASS. Because she’s a badass, that’s right. Just like her Momma. ]]>

* * * I watched a show yesterday about Gretchen Wilson (the country singer who sings Redneck Woman and Here for the Party). She’s adorable – I LOVE HER. It’s all about the women I love in today’s entry, I guess. Wimmin rewl.

* * * “What the-?” ]]>

Monte Sano in Huntsville. There are a couple of fairly flat trails that Fred wanted to knock off, because it’s his goal to hike all the trails on Monte Sano this winter. Also, for some reason the spud had suddenly decided that she wanted to scatter the small container of my grandmother’s ashes in a place with a pretty view, and Fred knew the perfect place. We got to the hiker’s parking lot around 11:30 and parked. Then we followed a trail a short distance to a bluffline with a nice view. There, the spud scattered some of my grandmother’s ashes and I scattered the rest. Naturally the wind was blowing in such a way that I couldn’t get a handle on the best way to scatter the ashes, so they blew back on us. After brushing Gram from the front of our shirts, we turned around and walked back the way we’d come. “Do we want to do the 1.2-mile hike or the 3.5 mile hike?” Fred asked. I looked down the trail we were standing on, which was flat and wide as far as the eye could see. “Which one is this one?” I asked. “The 3.5 mile hike,” Fred said. Don’t swallow your gum, folks. Because what I said was “Oh, let’s just do the 3.5 mile one.” Fred about fell over. “Are you sure you want to do that?” “It’s flat all the way around, right?” “It appears so on the map.” He’s no fool. He knew that if it turned out that the last half of the hike was straight downhill, I was going to kick his ass. “Then yeah, let’s do this one.” You’re waiting for me to tell you that as soon as we got far enough into the hike so that it was no longer feasible to turn around, the trail got hilly and rocky, aren’t you? Nope, it was pretty flat and wide for most of the hike. But what appeared on the map to be a 3.5 mile hike somehow morphed into the Monte Sano Death Hike from hell. Once we reached O’Shaughnessy Point – the halfway point, or thereabouts – I was sure we’d be back to the parking lot annnnny time now, but somehow the trail seemed to stretch, and the further we went, the slower I walked and people were coming out of nowhere to blow by us like we were standing still, and I thought we were never EVER going to get to the end. At one point – before we got to the halfway point – I realized that like a dumbass I had guzzled about a liter of water before we’d even left the house to drive to Monte Sano. And then I realized that my bladder was close to bursting. And THEN I realized that though the 1.2-mile hike would have taken us by the bathrooms, the 3.5-mile hike? Not so much. Longtime readers might recall that I’m pretty much a virgin to peeing in the woods and have only done it two times in my entire life, both of them in one outing. To make matters worse, though the path we were on was flat and wide, to either side of the path were hilly areas that really weren’t all that climbable, at least not by me. “Oh, come on,” Fred said impatiently. “Just step behind that tree and squat and pee! There’s no one coming!” With Fred watching one way down the path and the spud watching the other, I stepped behind the tree. A small tree, certainly nothing that would hide my glowing white ass from anyone unfortunate enough to come moseying down the path at the exact wrong moment. Then I squatted down and peed. And peed and peed and peed. Did I mention I had an entire liter of water before we left the house, plus more on the drive to Monte Sano. I just knew someone was going to come along and be struck blind by the horrific sight of my ass, but the gods were on my side that day and I was able to do my business in peace. I did pee all over the back of my sneakers and soaked the hem of my pants, but I’d had SO FRIGGIN’ MUCH WATER that I’m sure the urine was completely diluted. Near the end of the hike, Fred was constantly claiming that he was sure he saw the parking lot. After about the third round of “I see the parking lot! We’re almost there! Oh wait, that’s just someone’s driveway…” I started to ignore him. (Also, FRED And3rson, I’ve SEEN the map, and I am NOT QUITE SURE why you thought the part of the trail to O’Shaughnessy Point was winding and the path back to the parking lot was more of a straight shot, because they are BOTH ten miles long and winding, which even a woman who can’t read a map to save her life can see. Which leads me to think that you’re a sadist who enjoys seeing your wife stumble along in eternal hope that ‘we’re almost there! we must be!’ when in fact we have entered some sort of scientific warp that Michael Crichton could surely explain in ass-numbing detail, but I lack the knowledge, wherein we actual travel 23.45 miles on a 3.5-mile trail. Don’t think you’re fooling me, you bastard!) When we really and truly were almost to the parking lot, Fred said “Oh! There it is! I see the car!” and I said “Oh, shut up. I hate you. You suck. We’re probably a HUNDRED miles from the car.” But he insisted with such certainty, “No Bessie, look! You can see the car right there!” that I looked up to see the car. Which is when my right foot hit a large root loop in the middle of the trail, and I sailed about three feet through air before landing on my left foot, doing a jerk-and-stumble I’m pretty sure I saw once in a Milli Vanilli video, and I was immediately embarrassed, so I snarled at Fred because OF COURSE it was HIS fault that I stumbled because he’d INSISTED I look at the fucking car. “Jesus Christ, baby!” I intended to yell bitchily. “I need to keep my eyes on the trail so that I don’t stumble and fall and break my leg requiring you to carry me out of the woods on your back, which would cripple you as sure as I’m standing here, so STOP insisting that I LOOK at things, and just find the FUCKING END OF THIS PATH!” What actually came out of my mouth was “Can I KEEP my FACE on the TRAIL?” and Fred turned and gave me a puzzled look and said “I guess you can if you want to.” Arrrgh. But we made it out alive, and that’s what’s important. Maybe next week we’ll do the 1.2 mile hike. Or MAYBE we’ll just do a jaunty little hike straight up the side of the mountain. Fun! (If you’re in the Huntsville area and in better shape than me (and really, who ISN’T?), it was the South Plateau Loop Trail. I recommend it as long as you’re not a whiny little bitch like me.)

* * * I’ve said this before (over at the Tater, I think), but I just canNOT stand Phil Hellmuth. Every time I see his face on the TV screen I long to smack him upside the head really hard. Every time he starts with his whining, I yell “Shut UP! God! He’s such a whiny little bitch!” and Fred laughs. Because Fred, of course, LURVES Phil Hellmuth. Ugh. Give me Annie Duke any ol’ day. * * * The spud asked me Sunday morning if we could go to the mall, because I had mentioned that I needed to buy some Wallflower refills from Bath & Body Works and she wanted to look at candles or something like that. So after working out and taking my shower, I was ready to go. I looked online at the mall web site, but there was nothing telling what time the mall stores open on Sundays. I decided that I was pretty sure it opened at noon, and so the spud and I left the house at 11:30 since I needed to stop by the post office. We got to the mall at exactly noon, and I was relieved to see a lot of vehicles in the parking lot. Surely that meant the mall opened at noon, right? Wroooooong. And not only did the mall NOT open at noon, it also didn’t open at 12:30 – nothing in the frickin’ mall opened until 1:00. We could have gone home and come back, but I reallllly didn’t want to. So we walked around the mall, and it ended up being like a mini family reunion – not only did we run into Fred’s mother, we saw his sister’s daughter. I haven’t seen his mother since whenever it was in the spring that we went to Memphis, and I haven’t seen my niece since last Christmas. I’m so unaccustomed to seeing people I know when I’m out and about that I almost didn’t recognize his mother when I saw her, because I so wasn’t expecting to see her. So the mall opened at 1:00, and we went into Bath & Body Works, and I noticed that they were hiring for the holiday season, and I briefly considered it, because if nothing else I could spend my paycheck in the same store where I earned it, but I really hate the kind of pushy stuff they’re required to do, where they follow you around and ask if you need help, and then hover over you while you’re sniffing the various scents, and pointing out that “If you buy six more, you’ll get one free!” and “Those are four for $10!” and all that, so I decided it probably wasn’t the thing for me. Also, I hate people, so a job dealing with people? Uh, no. Anyway, I got out of there without buying ANY lotion, though I was seriously tempted to buy a small bottle of Vanilla Sugar, and then I remembered that I have sixty-three (estimated) unused bottles of lotion at home, and I refrained. For which I should get a PRIZE, I should add, because that stuff smells REALLY good. I did buy a $4 yellow ducky for the tub because, well, I CAN, and who wouldn’t love a yellow rubber ducky for the tub? You know you’re glaring jealously at your monitor at gnashing your teeth, you’re so jealous of my yellow rubber ducky. After Bath & Body Works, we went into Hallmark for a minute – not the good one at the end of the mall, but the semi-sucky one over by Lane Bryant – and were out of the mall by 1:30. And that should be it for going to the mall this year, at least until I go to Maine after Christmas and hit the mall up there for the after-Christmas sales! * * * Spanky, drunk on sunlight. ]]>

October’s logo was created by the wonderful and talented Susan. Thanks, Susan, every time I look at the logo, it cracks me up!

* * * Thanks, everyone who posted and emailed recipes. They all looked really good, and I printed them out and will go over them in the next few days to decide what’s doable for us and what isn’t. Y’all rock, you know that? * * * We didn’t actually watch the debate last night, because we knew we’d hear all we wanted (and more!) about it this morning, spun to hell in every direction. The Kerry lovers claim Kerry won and Bush is a blithering idiot. The Bush lovers claim Bush won and Kerry is a flip-flopping fool, and ne’er the twain shall meet. All I know is that at one point we flipped over to see what was going on, and the President had this exact look on his face: * * * There’s a new meme in town I’m going to try: Think of 3 pictures you’d like to see. Leave whatever you’d like to see in the comments. Things around my house, or whatever… something I can take a picture of easily. Once I have enough requests, I’ll start posting them. If I can’t, or won’t, take a picture of something you’ve requested, I’ll let you know. I’ll give you guys ’til, say, next Wednesday (the 6th) before I start taking pictures and posting them. (via PeskyApostrophe) * * * Stupid City of Madison. This is what I see when I look in my backyard: Yes, they’re STILL working on the friggin’ road back there. It’s been, what, six months? How friggin’ long can it possibly take to dig some ditches, toss down cement tube THINGIES and cover them up? I could have done a faster job with a measuring spoon and my ass. Fuckers. (Yeah, I don’t know where my ass would come into the equation. It just seemed like the thing to say.) * * * I went to the post office this morning, and I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but they’ve recently installed this do-it-yourself kiosk where you can weigh your package, decide how to send it, pay for the stamp, and drop your package into the package… drop… thingy… all without having to deal with a single, solitary person. Now, if that wasn’t created with ME in mind, I don’t know what was. The only thing that sucks is that it doesn’t give you a media mail option, so you have to send everything parcel post, priority, or express. Or, if the package is light enough, you can send it first class. But no media mail. Ah well – I guess nothing’s perfect, eh? * * * Okay, time to clean off the memory stick… Lickety lick-lick, lickety lick-lick, look at Stumpy liiiiick! STOOOOOOOOOOOP in the NAME of LOVE! Well, he’s a clean little bastard, you’ve gotta give him that. After licking the parmesan and seasonings off the popcorn in The Daddy’s bowl, Meester Boogers frantically licks the evidence from his nose. ]]>