8/18/05 – Bitchypoo

But her evaluation of my cowboy reputation left me begging for salvation all night lonnng. So I took her out gigging frogs introduced her to my old bird dog and sang her every Willie Nelson song I could think of and we made love. Nope. Still in my brain. If I insert a brillo pad into my ear, will it eventually get to my brain and scrub that song out, or is that an urban myth? (Everybody says, everybody says, everybody says, save a horse, ride a cowboyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!)

* * * I was reading some of Fred’s old entries yesterday, and this one made me giggle like mad. Also, this one. This one, too (the song at the top). And for those of you who didn’t know about the book Fred published a few years ago, there’s this one. This one, too. I’m sure there would have been more, but I hit the entry for May 23, 2003, and there was no “next” arrow, so I went to bed. * * * Am I the only one who thinks that Angelina Jolie’s new daughter Zahara looks like she could be her biological child? To me, there’s a strong resemblance – the big eyes, the lips, even the shape of her eyebrows. See for yourself. * * * Did I mention that the spud had a job interview the other day? She filled out an application at a local grocery store, and got called for an interview in just a few days. The interview went pretty well, I guess, if a little fast (she was in and out in less than ten minutes). The job, if she gets it, will be as a bagger. The woman who interviewed her said that the job required 30 hours a week – which doesn’t work for the spud, since she’ll only be available to work on Friday evenings, Saturdays, and Sundays, along with school holidays – but then apparently said something that sounded like they’d consider a job share type of situation, so I don’t know. I asked her if she actually got offered the job, and the spud said no, that she’d have to take a drug test first. So the woman who interviewed her will call in a few days to set that up. We’ll see how that works out; keep your fingers crossed for her! * * * I’m absolutely drooling with jealousy over Nance’s new Jornada. I want one, damnit! I emailed Nance to tell her that I’m in negotiations with Fred to let me have one, but I think I’ll end up waiting and asking for one for Christmas. Typing that above paragraph – the “let me have one”, specifically – reminds me of when I was discussing with someone how badly I wanted a Miata. I said “But Fred would never let me have one”, and paused for a moment and was about to say “He thinks they’re not safe at all and he’d worry about me all the time” when the person I was talking to said “He wouldn’t let you have one?”, with the tone implying “Are you completely dick-whipped, or what? What’s this “let you” shit?” Because my mind always goes completely blank when I’m put on the spot, I mumbled something dumbass and changed the subject, but when I was talking to Fred later that same day, I said “Well, I wouldn’t let you have a Maserati (if you wanted one), either! It’s not a matter of you controlling the purse strings. It’s a matter of the fact that we’re married, and we talk about spending money on stuff like that, because if I went out and bought a Miata, you’d worry about me flipping it over and squishing my brains out my ears, and also Miatas are expensive and I’d rather drive a cheaper car so I can buy more books!” And he said “Why are you telling me this like I don’t know it?” But anyway, we talked about the Jornada and he suggested that I wait and ask for one for Christmas. Which is a good idea, because Nance is under strict orders to tell me if there’s anything about her Jornada she doesn’t like, plus waiting for a few months will ensure that I really want one, and am not simply being seduced by the cuteness of the Jornada. I’d much rather drag a Jornada through the airport next time I go to Maine than the fucking 30-pound (estimated; though to be truthful, by the end it seemed to weigh about 130 pounds) laptop, that’s for sure. * * * Currently reading: Mim Warner’s Lost Her Cool, by Lynn Messina. Finished last night: Horseplay. This book was absolutely hilarious; I highly recommend it; it made me laugh out loud many times. Judy Reene Singer is a funny as hell writer, and I’m hoping she’ll be putting another book out soon (though she has no web page; I hate it when a writer I “discover” has no web page!). The writing style is similar to Janet Evanovich’s, though even funnier. It’s very light-hearted writing, and it reads very quickly. Awesome book! * * * Rambo, who is the piggiest of pigs, likes to hang out in the kitchen while you’re in there, and if you open the refrigerator, he runs over to check it out, even though he can’t get up to where the food is. Obviously he’s figured out that food is kept in there, though. Yesterday I was making dinner, and I grabbed something out of the refrigerator and pushed the door so it would close, and there was a screamy-screechy sound, and Rambo hauled ass out of the kitchen to hide in the computer room, shaking his poor head. I guess I almost smushed his little head in the refrigerator. Poor baby; I picked him up and checked him over, and he seems to be fine. And he hasn’t been back near the refrigerator since. A quick learner, that one. Yesterday afternoon Rambo and Jodie were snuggled up on the cat bed on my desk, and she sat up and stretched, and then there was this ::fwoomp!::, and she was gone. Rambo sat up and looked a little startled, and it took a few seconds for me to understand what had happened – Jodie’d fallen backwards off the desk and ended up in the three-inch space between my desk and the wall. She got out of there pretty quickly on her own, and when she came around to the front of the desk, she was covered in cobwebs and dust bunnies. I dusted her off and put her back on the cat bed, and she and Rambo were sound asleep again in about ten seconds. Poor kittens. At least they seem none the worse for wear!