reading: Marrying up, by Jackie Rose.
Finished (finally!): Everyone Worth Knowing, by Lauren Weisberger. Not a bad book, though it dragged at times. I feel like I know far too much about the PR world now. I suspect, being not in “the know” about the ins and outs of NY celebs and the PR world, there were things that went right over my head.
Speaking of Lauren Weisberger, they’re filming The Devil Wears Prada, and rumor has it that Anna Wintour (the “devil” of the title, in case you didn’t know) is threatening to blacklist any designers who appear in the film.
I’m so very relieved that my life is such that I don’t have to give a shit about what Anna Wintour says or does. In fact, I don’t think I could pick the woman out of a lineup, and I’m not sad about that at all.
Vogue bores me, which I suspect shocks you all, since I’m such a fashion trend-setter. Cat hair on the seat of your pants! It’s the Next Big Thing!
You heard it here first.
* * *
I knocked out a huge amount of Christmas shopping while I was sitting in front of my computer freezing to death yesterday, waiting for the guys to finish replacing the windows and leave.
I came up with an excellent gift idea for several family members, and I only regret that I can’t say what it is, ’cause it would ruin their Christmas (DEBBIE, I’m lookin’ at you!). I certainly spent some time patting myself on the back after I thought of it, though.
We’ve only got five or six family members left to buy for, and unless there’s something I’m not thinking of, I’m probably not going to have to actually go shopping for ANYTHING this year, because everything’s available online.
I love the internet. LOVE IT.
I’m sure that in a few weeks I’ll be bitching about Amazon being slow to ship stuff, though. I always do!
By the way, if you prefer to put gifts in gift boxes rather than wrap them (I wrapped so many freakin’ gift cards last year that I swore I’d never do it again),
Oriental Trading has some pretty good boxes and bags for an amazing price.
Also,
this is a very cool idea. You buy a Charity Gift Card for someone, give it to them, and they get to decide what charity the money goes to. I wish I’d seen that before I got all that shopping done!
* * *
The spud finally got her Homecoming pictures back last week:
That’s apparently not the background she picked out, but it came out pretty nice anyway. Probably by the time she’s showing her Homecoming picture to her kids, they’ll be impressed by the psychedelic-ness of it.
* * *
So every few months, we get spam (snail mail spam, as opposed to email spam) from this woman who used to work with Fred. She also used to live in our subdivision, and I talked to her once or twice when I used to walk outside for exercise. In other words, we barely know the woman.
Anyway, she got a job with some investment place, and she sends us these cards reminding us that she exists and that she’s doing investment counseling, and if we need any kind of investing advice, we should for sure come see her!
I want to write a letter along the lines of:
Dear Callie:
Thank you so much for your continuing junk mail spree. I can assure you that we are aware that you exist, that you are working as an investment counselor, and that you are chomping at the bit to give us investing advice, for which you would then surely charge an exorbitant amount of money.
The thing is, Callie, that at the age of 37 I’ve learned that if someone comes to you and wants to have anything to do with your money, that is the exact person you should avoid. I’d never take investment advice from someone who came and knocked on my front door, just like I’d never take investment advice from someone I don’t know, who works at a company I’ve never heard of.
Further, Callie, I note that your attention to detail is somewhat lacking. Now, people spell my name wrong all the time; I’ve come to accept it and most of the time I hardly even notice it unless they spell it in an interesting way – ie, “Robbyne”. You not only spelled my name incorrectly – it’s “Robyn”, not “Robin”, just for the record – but you attempted to send the card to an address that doesn’t exist on this street. It’s only because our mailman knows who we are that we received your card at all. If you are unable to spell the names of potential clients correctly AND manage to get their address wrong, what on earth makes you think we’d let you anywhere near the money we’ll be living off when we’re old and gray?
Just a thought.
Of course, I won’t. Because it’s much more fun to mock her behind her back on the internet!
* * *
And speaking of mocking someone behind her back on the internet, last week I posted an entry over at the
Tater about Margu3rite P3rrin (the “God Warrior” from last week’s Trading Spouses), calling her “batshit” at the end of the post. Yesterday afternoon someone claiming to be her left a message and phone number, saying if I wanted to call her so she could “set the record straight”, she’d welcome the call.
I have no idea if it was truly her, or just someone trying to cause the harassment of her, but the ip address resolved to her part of the world, and the phone number – when Googled – resolved to her name.
Not that it matters, anyway, ’cause I for sure wasn’t going to call her. I mean, seriously – I’ve known
Nance for years and still won’t talk to her on the phone (see: phone phobia), I’m going to call the crazy God Warrior lady?
I think not.
I feel a little bad, though. I certainly wouldn’t have talked about how the God Warrior lady was batshit if I’d known she’d end up reading it.
(She is, though. Batshit, I mean.)
* * *
People, PAY ATTENTION. YES, we’re keeping Sugarbutt. I made that announcement
more than a week ago. And I even gave Sugarbutt his
own page on the
And3rson kitties page.
“Is there someone in the KITCHEN?!”
Every night at snack time (7:00), they gather in the kitchen and howl for their snack. They get VERY excited at the thought of snack time. Who’d’ve thought that sharing a packet of Whiskas Tender Bites would make them so happy?
Sometimes I make Sugarbutt dance for his food. Dance, monkey, dance!
* * *
Previously
2004: Do you suppose that cats realize that when we kiss them, it’s a sign of affection?
2003: NAS-TAY.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Thanks, y’all, for your emails regarding hamster sex.
1999: So, I didn’t get the kitten.]]>
