Author: Robyn

Best new blog I’ve discovered lately (I’m sure I followed the link from another blog, but I don’t remember which): Waiter Rant.

* * * So, Sunday I got a bug up my butt (not literally)(at least, I don’t think so) and decided to clean the master bathroom and dust the upstairs and vacuum as well. I hadn’t cleaned the bathroom since the day before I had surgery, which means it had gone for three weeks without being cleaned – sadly, that’s about the average ’round these parts – and the ring around the bathtub was starting to get on my nerves. Anyway, I cleaned the bathroom, dusted the upstairs, and vacuumed the upstairs, then I looked at the stairs and decided they were horribly disgusting and needed to be vacuumed. Since I’m not supposed to lift anything heavy until six weeks after surgery, I decided I’d vacuum halfway down the stairs with the stair attachment, then ask Fred to carry it to the bottom of the stairs so I could do the other half of the stairs (the Dyson doesn’t quite reach to the top of the stairs, or I would have had him carry it down first). So I left the Dyson at the top of the stairs and started vacuuming. I’d done three or four stairs when I glanced up and saw that the Dyson was starting to tip over a little. I decided to do one more stair, then turn it off and yell for Fred. I was in the middle of that stairs, when I heard a horrific crash as the Dyson tipped over and started cartwheeling down the stairs. The main part of the vacuum hit me and stopped, and the canister part detached and continued merrily on its way past me, smacking my hand really hard. By this time, Fred had flown out of the kitchen and was yelling “Are you okay?!” at me. I kind of looked around blankly, trying to figure out why the Dyson looked so funny, and then set it upright and turned it off. “Are you okay?!” Fred asked again. “Yeah,” I said, then pressed my now-bleeding hand against my side to blot the blood. “Did it hit you?” he asked. “Not really,” I said. It had hit my leg, but my leg felt fine. Fred picked up the canister – which had come open when it hit the bottom of the stairs, scattering dust and crap everywhere, and closed it. Then he came up the stairs, took the Dyson, and set it at the bottom of the stairs. There was a bit of plastic chipped off the side of the top of the canister, but it fit back into place with no problem, and when we plugged the Dyson in to make sure it was working okay, it worked like a champ. So I vacuumed the entire downstairs while I was at it. I love my Dyson. But I’m afraid that now it’s tasted human blood, it’s going to require a periodic human sacrifice. I wonder if cat blood would suffice? * * * So, I know I’ve mentioned that Sugarbutt likes to climb in bed with me in the middle of the night and lick my neck while kneading VERY VERY HARD on whatever exposed skin he can find. The thing is, that it really fucking HURTS when he kneads on exposed skin, even if I keep his claws clipped, because they might be blunt claws, but they’re still CLAWS. Finally, I bitched about it enough (and then Tommy tried to climb a tree in the back yard last week) that Fred suggested we give SoftPaws a try. I ordered – at Fred’s suggestion – a set of red nail caps and a set of purple. They came pretty quickly – in a matter of days, I think – and Friday night we clipped Sugarbutt’s claws and Tommy’s, too. Then we carefully put caps on all of Tommy’s nails. It was kind of a production, because Tommy doesn’t much like having his paws messed with, and at one point he even growled at us, so we fell into a rhythm of putting one nail cap on, then letting him down and distracting him with a toy. We got four nails on each paw covered, and decided not to worry about his “thumb” nails. He licked at his paws for a little while, but didn’t seem too disturbed by the nail covers, and was pretty quickly back to running around, chasing Sugarbutt. So on Saturday, we did Sugarbutt. And then we discussed it, and decided to go ahead and cover their “thumb” nails with caps, too, because it became pretty clear that they use those nails more than we realized. And Saturday night when Sugarbutt came to visit me, and he kneaded just as hard as he could, it didn’t hurt at ALL. Thank GOD for SoftPaws! I think the red goes nicely with his fur. (He now has a purple “thumb” nail, but that was after we took this picture) Pretty in purple. * * * “Bob! Dude! I don’t want to get nasty, here, but I NEED SOME FREAKIN’ ‘NIP! I’m going through withdrawal, man!” I guess this is Sugarbutt’s version of working out. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: The Bean appeared before me, eyes wide and dark, a sad little I’m a poor kitty who has lost his way look on his face. 2003: They freaked out. 2002: Um. In yesterday’s entry, I MEANT to link to Fred with the words “nice butt”, not MYSELF. 2001: We got proof today that we, in fact, do not have two gay hamsters. 2000: No entry.]]>

* * * First of all Ace – that really cute guy on American Idol – looks JUST like the bastard child of Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger. Second of all, would someone PLEASE do SOMETHING about Simon Cowell’s hair? I know I’m no great arbiter of popular fashion or anything, but every time I see Simon’s hair, it makes me cringe. It wouldn’t be so bad if there wasn’t a freakin’ PART in the middle of what appears to be an attempt at a flat-top or semi-spiked hair, but the part makes it awful. Third of all, we were thrilled to see Gray Man, Cute Little Geek with Glasses and Bald Man with Facial Hair make it through to the final 12 men, and as for the women we were glad to see Little ‘n Squeaky get through – though there was no doubt she would; the judges loved her the first time they set eyes on her. (Can you tell we didn’t catch anyone’s name?)

* * * So I went for a walk yesterday morning; I’m up to 2.08 miles in around 40 minutes, which is good for someone with short ‘n stubby legs, I think. Anyway, near the end of my walk as I approached the turn to my street, I noticed that there were a couple of women walking about 50 feet ahead of me, each walking a small and yappy (but cute!) dog. I hoped they’d go straight instead of turning left, because if they turned left on to my street, they’d get to the end before me, and then turn and walk back up the street, and I would pass them, and I would smile and say good morning to them, and they’d look me up and down and smirk at each other and NOT SAY ANYTHING BACK. Don’t call me paranoid – it happens to me ALL THE TIME. Because I’m a fat chick dressed in a shlubby manner, and the instant I start to sweat when I’m exercising, I get bright red and no doubt look like a heart attack about to happen, or in the process of happening. And don’t tell me it’s because they don’t hear me say “Good morning!”, because I say it with a great big smile, and say it loud enough for anyone to hear. They’re just snobs in their spandex and cute little t-shirts with their tiny little dogs. Well, to be fair, not ALL of them, but the majority of them. I’m sure YOU are not a snob in your spandex and cute little t-shirt with their tiny little dogs. You’d say “Good Morning” or “Hi” back to me, wouldn’t you? Of course you would. Anyway. So these women turned onto my street, and I sighed a big martyred sigh of martyrdom, and prepared to smile and say “Good morning!” and be ignored. Only, halfway down the street they stopped, and the little white dog belonging to one of the women trotted over into someone’s yard and proceeded to “use the facilities.” In a big way. Almost as big as the dog itself, that’s how big. And the women looked at each other, and they stood there while the dog did its business, and I grew closer and closer. And then they turned around and they saw me, and they looked at each other again. As if they were mimes, they made big gestures at each other that clearly conveyed “Whatever shall we do now?” One of them pointed out a newspaper (laying in a plastic bag) in the driveway across the street, and the other one made a production of dragging her dog across the street to the newspaper, then gestured to the poopin’-dog-owner about how she was going to carry it up to the house of the person it belonged to, and ask if it was okay to use the plastic bag. At this point, I passed them, not bothering to look at either of them, and just barely restrained myself from rolling my eyes at them. Because I think it’s pretty clear that if no one else had been around, that pile of dog shit would have sat there until the END OF TIME. I mean, who the hell takes their dog for a long walk and doesn’t bring something to pick up the poop with? Is it a complete shock and mystery to these women that their dogs are going to want to stop and poop at some point during a walk longer than three minutes? And how do they USUALLY pick up dog poop? That’s right. THEY DON’T. At least they picked it up this time, because I had prepared a scathing statement* to say to them if they’d just walked off and left it there. *Instead of smiling and saying “Good morning”, I was going to say “Seriously? You’re going to leave that pile of dog shit on a stranger’s lawn? SERIOUSLY?” and scowl. That, or “I’m glad that’s not MY lawn, ’cause I’d kick your skinny ass to hell and back. And your little dog, too!” And those women would have SOBBED like big BABIES, because my mean face is a scary one. I’ve gotten back into cross-stitching in the last week or so; I think I stopped cross-stitching when we had Rambo and Jodie, because it was just too much of a pain to keep them from playing with the threads, and I just never started again. At the moment I’m concentrating on getting through all the ornament kits I have before I start anything big. Anyway, I think that many times a picture looks better when it’s not outlined. I kind of like the abstract-ness of it, I guess. For instance: I guess the “after” isn’t too bad – but I really kind of preferred the “before”. Oh, and while I’m sharing pictures (non-cat pictures, I should say), my brother and sister-in-law sent me flowers after the other flowers I’d gotten had pretty much died. When I talked to my brother, he indicated that there was something different about these flowers. And he was right – there was. It was a bunch of yellow and white flowers – daisies, maybe? I’m not good with flower identification – but once I opened the box the whole way, I realized there was something else in the box. It cracks me up, every time I walk into my bedroom and see it there, smiling beatifically at me. You might not be able to tell, but when the stem isn’t wrapped around the bookcase, the whole thing is about four feet tall. And the “flower” is huge – maybe close to two feet across? I haven’t named her (obviously it’s a “her”) yet. Suggestions? * * * Tommy in motion. Spot warily checks out the situation. “Torties are NOT BITCHY! And if you say it again, I’ll CUT YOU, you understand me?” Daffodils are starting to bloom! Woot! There are a buttload of outside kitty pictures up over at Flickr, here. * * * Previously 2005: I feel like every time I run an errand in the Jeep I’m tempting Fate. 2004: I am blogrolling’s bitch. 2003: We figured if nothing else, we’d just start killing and eating cats. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: ***Warning! Adult language and situations ahead! Skip the first three paragraphs if you’re easily offended***]]>

* * * You know, I get the idea behind podcasts, and I understand that some of them are probably pretty cool, but here’s the thing – I can’t stand listening to or watching anything while sitting at my computer that’s longer than two or three minutes. Movie trailers, funny (short) videos, and the occasional movie clip is just fine, but anything longer than that, I just refuse to watch or listen to. I get antsy if I listen to anything longer than that. I don’t usually listen to music at my computer unless I’m doing something that requires little concentration, and if Fred sends me a link to something longer than a few minutes, I’ll watch a few minutes of it, then turn it off. I just don’t consider the computer to be the place to sit and watch stuff, I don’t know why. Probably because there’s always something I could be doing – reading a journal entry, organizing this that or th’other, whatever. Of course, now that I have a portable CD player that also plays MP3s, I could always just burn them to a disc and listen to them while I exercise…

* * * Miz S asked in my comments yesterday: Is it true that male cats are nicer than female cats, generally speaking? I figure you should know since you have A HERD of cats over there. If our cats are anything to go by, then I would say that yes, male cats are nicer than female cats. But then, we only have the one female cat to go by, and she’s always more than willing to reach out and smack the shit out of her brothers. For instance, if she walks into the bathroom – where the cat food dishes are – and there’s a cat in front of each food dish (there are two food dishes, because we serve our cats four – YES, FOUR – different kinds of food*) and she can’t get to the food dish, she’ll sniff the behind of one of the cats at the food bowls. And if they ignore her, she’ll sniff again. And she’ll keep sniffing until one of the cats who is eating thinks “Is something touching my behind?”, and they’ll turn around to look at her, and she will SMACK THE HOLY HELL out of them. She’s pure evil. On the other hand, she’s the only cat who will come sit in your lap if you call her. The other cats are always all “Yeah, I don’t feel like it. Go blow it out your ass, Chuckles”, but Miz Poo will ALWAYS come sit in your lap, give you a look o’ love, and purr very loudly. Until we got Sugarbutt, she was also the only cat who would snuggle with me at night. Sugarbutt will snuggle with me at night (on his own timetable, you understand), but during the day he’s anti-snuggle. So, in summary, if we are to judge all female cats by Miz Poo, then male cats are nicer, but female cats are clingier. I’m sure other readers have opinions on this particular subject. Got an opinion? Leave a comment! *In one bowl we mix Science Diet Kitten food and… crap. I don’t remember what we mix with the Science Diet Kitten. Purina One Urinary Tract Health, maybe? Yeah, I think that’s it. And in the other bowl we mix Science Diet Adult with Nutro Max Senior. Because we spoil our cats rotten, in case you hadn’t noticed. “Hallelujah and praise the lord for belly rubs! CAN I GET A WITNESS?!” “Bwahahaha! Mom thinks she’s going to sit at her computer and type things, but she CAN’T. What does “rapidly portlifying ass” mean, anyway? I think it must be a compliment. Maybe it means “prettiest cat ever”? I always knew I was Mom’s favorite.” “Incredibly good-looking SNOK (single neutered orange kitty) looking for someone to snuggle with. My heterosexual life partner, Tommy, comes as part of the package. I like long walks in the back yard (not too close to the fence, please!), a good stiff snort of catnip every now and then (I have a good supplier), snacks at 7 pm sharp, and peanut-diving when the opportunity arises. No bitchy head-smacking torties need apply. Respond to sugar.buttocks@gmail.com with picture.” All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: Don’t you wish I was responsible for your books? 2004: I WANT TO FUCKING KNOW WHAT HE SAID. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001.: And almost wet my pants in terror. 2000: So, the nausea continues.]]>

Grrrrr. That fucking Stephen Deken and his fucking failure to back shit up. Do you know how behind I am in my journal reading? Why, I’m two and a half WEEKS behind in my journal reading, because for almost a week after surgery I wasn’t reading any journals, and I haven’t had a chance to catch up. And when I do find time to read journals, I tend to catch up on one at a time, and do you know how many diary-x journals I read? A LOT. And now I’ll NEVER know what they said, DAMNIT. You diary-xers, you can find a better place than that, trust me. Hell, at this point it’s almost cheaper to buy your own domain and pay for hosting. Okay, I don’t know that it’s cheaper to get your own domain and pay for hosting; I just made that up. But please, for the love of god, ditch that diary-x shit. Get a free account at Opendiary.com! Diaryland! Anywhere! Of course, I guess this means it’ll take a lot less time for me to get caught up on my journal reading, huh?

* * * So, y’all know that I have a Netflix account, and that I love me some Netflix, right? Well, last week I had it set up just right so that I mailed a movie back to Netflix on Saturday, knowing that at the very top of my queue was In Her Shoes, and since they’d receive the returned movie on Monday, they’d mail out In Her Shoes on Monday, and I’d have it on Tuesday. I was really looking forward to seeing In Her Shoes, since I’d meant to see it in the theater, but I ALWAYS intend to see movies in the theater and never do. Still haven’t seen Brokeback Mountain, and I’m dying to see it! Anyway, Netflix received the movie on Monday just like I figured they would, and sent me an email saying that they were sending In Her Shoes my way, and so all was well in BitchyLand. Then Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday came and went, and no movie. So I went to Netflix and reported it as missing in the mail, checked the box that indicated that I wanted a replacement movie, and waited. That one came two days later, and all was once again well in BitchyLand. Then I got an email from Netflix telling me that they’d received the “lost” movie back in the mail. Which means, I think, that either the envelope got trashed and they couldn’t read who it was supposed to go to, so they sent it back. OR it means that the mailman delivered my damn movie to the wrong damn address, and the person who got it opened it to see what it was, then either watched it and sent it back, or just sent it back. I suspect the latter, personally. Fuckers. * * * So, the spud had a Valentine’s Day gift sent to her by her boyfriend (not the one she went to the dance with back in the Fall. He’s a jackass and we don’t like him, got it? The current boyfriend seems okay.). Guess what it was? A balloon. Poor Sugarbutt. I instructed the spud to keep the balloon in her room so as not to traumatize the Sug, but I can only imagine what his little face will look like when he moseys into her room for a nap on her bed, and he sees the dreaded balloon sitting there smiling evilly down at him. * * * Miz Poo thinks that cute little Jason Priestly grew up pretty nicely. She’s also aghast that they canceled Love Monkey. Damn them! Sugarbutt must be very, very dirty, because his brothers sure do clean him a lot. Is that a happy Tommy, or what? Tommy was sitting on a pillow on Fred’s lap, and Fred had to get up to do something, so he put Tommy – pillow and all – on the floor. Tommy waited patiently for Fred to come back, in this exact position the entire time. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: Collab 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: William Fichtner is a hottie. 2001: I hope I’m not doing serious damage to myself, but if you saw how clean the showers get, you’d know how much it’s worth it. 2000: I highly recommend a warm, purring kitten laying against you when you’re feeling nauseous.]]>

* * * Currently reading: The Undomestic Goddess, by Sophie Kinsella. I really do like Kinsella’s books. The Shopaholic series started to seem very much the same after a while, but I still enjoyed them. Good chick lit, and I need something kind of lighthearted to cheer me up after reading… Finished last night: Night, by Elie Wiesel. And y’all shut up and don’t tell me Oprah’s leading me around by the nose. She is NOT, I just looked at the description after she announced it on her book club, and I thought I should read it. It’s such a sad heartbreaker of a book; I recommend it. Also recently finished: Killing Yourself to Live, by Chuck Klosterman. Pretty good book, actually. Another one I wasn’t particularly looking forward to, but ended up enjoying it despite myself.

* * * So, I don’t think I mentioned that Saturday morning Fred asked if I wanted to take a trip to the flea market and wander around for a while. I was up for it, so we got ready and went. We ended up with socks for Fred, a toy for the cats (but of course!), a book for both of us, and a Figure Skating National Championship tape for me (one dollah!). Altogether we spent less than ten dollars and came away with something for everyone. Well, except for the spud, who was at home, still sleeping. That’s the beauty of when kids get older, you know. You can go out and do stuff while they’re still home sleeping UNTIL NOON, and not have to worry about them, because if there’s a problem they’ll call on your cell phone. And to think that I can still remember the day when she couldn’t pour her own cereal… (This is where Fred would make a joke about how that was just last week) Fred dropped me off at home and then went back out to the movie store to see what he could find for us to watch that night. When he came home, he had not only some movies, but also a balloon from the grocery store near the movie store. See, Fred’s mother and stepfather sent me flowers and balloons the day I came home from surgery, and there was this one mylar balloon that was just – almost two weeks after I got it – starting to die. Tommy likes to play with the balloon – well, to be specific, he likes to grab the ribbon and run around with the balloon trailing behind him. The ribbon on the balloon Fred had purchased at the grocery store was pretty long, and since we didn’t want to worry about the cats getting ahold of it when we weren’t around (because I think we all know that we’d end up with Tommy running around with the balloon sticking out of one end of him, and a ribbon sticking out the other) Fred snipped it. And then he tied a loop into the end of the ribbon, because Tommy sometimes has trouble getting ahold of the ribbon (do you see how we bend over backwards to make sure our cats never ever have to suffer one moment of frustration?), and the loop seemed to be a big hit. Tommy grabbed it and ran around with it in his mouth for the longest time. And then Fred thought it would be funny to put the loop around Mister Boogers’ neck to see what he’d do. Mister Boogers chewed at the ribbon a little, and then batted at the balloon, and then figured out how to slip the loop from around his neck, and the cats sat and watched as the balloon floated to the ceiling. THEN, Fred had a Very Good Idea. He put the loop around Sugarbutt’s neck. Sugarbutt started to walk away, and the balloon followed him, and Sugarbutt stopped and shot the balloon a dirty look as if to say “I see you following me. Is there something I can do for you?” The balloon bobbed gently about, and Sugarbutt walked away again, and again the balloon followed. Sugarbutt stopped again, and again another dirty look. “Stop following me,” Sugarbutt said. “Or I shall call the gendarmes and they shall kick your ass all the way back to Paree.” The balloon bobbed gently. Sugarbutt sat down and began busily licking his nether regions, perhaps hoping that the balloon would get bored and go away. He finished his grooming routine and began chewing on the ribbon hanging off the balloon, as if to demonstrate that the balloon’s presence did not disturb him. When he was sure that the balloon had gotten the message, he stood up and began walking toward the window. The balloon followed. And Sugarbutt lost his shit. He ran in circles around the dining room. He ran from the dining room to the computer room, to the dining room again. The entire time his ears were flat back on his head, and his eyes were wide and dark. I wanted to catch him to help him, but he was moving so fast – and I was so weak from laughter – that I couldn’t do a thing. Finally, he ran upstairs, and Fred ran after him while I sat in the computer room and laughed until I cried. Fred came back downstairs about ten minutes later, the balloon in his hand, the ribbon on the balloon frayed at the end. “Did he chew that off?” I asked, impressed. “No, I think it got caught on something and tore. I found it under our bed, and Sugarbutt’s under the spud’s bed with the loop still around his neck, and he won’t come near me.” Poor Sugarbutt. I immediately felt bad for laughing at him… until I remembered the wild look on his face, and started laughing again. Sugarbutt ended up hiding under the spud’s bed for a good hour or so before Fred could convince him to come out and have the ribbon removed from around his neck. And when he did venture downstairs, any time there was the slightest unexpected noise he’d shoot behind the couch and hide. At one point he climbed up into the couch and couldn’t get back out again, requiring a rescue from Fred and the spud. Mid-afternoon, the spud cleaned her room (!), and when she came downstairs with a couple of trash bags full of trash and stuff she wanted to get rid of, Sugarbutt heard the sound of the trash bags rattling, and I’m sure he thought it was a gang of balloons, out to kick his ass, and he ran behind the couch and hid for a few hours. I was concerned that he’d be a skittish kitten for the rest of his life and that we’d ruined him, but as of yesterday afternoon, he was back to his old self. Thank god, ’cause I sure do like his old self! Brudderly love. Sugarbutt figured out how to get on top of the refrigerator, and now it’s his favorite place to hang out. Snack time! Spanky’s such a pretty boy. Lookin’ guilty. All of today’s uploaded pictures (including the ones above) are here. * * * Previously 2005: “I wasn’t worried,” Fred said to me. “Because any party where the invitation suggests bringing Dance Dance Revolution pads is not one that’s going to get out of hand.” 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: Be our valentine, bitch! 2001: Could this get any more exciting, talking about the weather? 2000: Is it wrong that hearing about that incident gives me a whole new respect for Maria?]]>

Hi Robyn- I know you don’t do this very often – but can you help me find someone who taped the “Top Superbowl Commercials” that played on Saturday night before Superbowl? We forgot to tape it as we had a BB game we had to go to (my daughters). I have not heard the end of it……still! My husband is a whining and with his birthday coming up in March – I thought I could shut him up if I could find someone who had taped it. I am willing to pay for the tape and postage plus a little extra for thier time up front). If anyone can help out, please email me or leave a comment, would you? Thanks!

* * * Readers, I know you’ll be able to tell me this: how do you pronounce the name “Sia”? I can’t imagine how on earth it’s pronounced, and it’s driving me nuts! * * * I walked into the bathroom the other morning, and glanced into the tub on my way to the toilet. And then I stopped and thought “What on god’s green earth is all over the inside of the tub?” And I peered closer and thought about it, and I thought “Huh. It kind of looks like sawdust. What the hell?” I couldn’t think of why sawdust would be all over the inside of the tub, and I pondered it while I was on the toilet, and pondered it some more while I washed my hands and put it in my contacts and then I peered closer with my contact-ed eyes, and still couldn’t figure it out. So I was going to call Fred and ask him what the hell it was, but the instant I walked from the bathroom to the bedroom, I completely forgot about it, and went to get dressed and came downstairs to exercise and eat breakfast and all that. The next time I saw the tub was a few hours later when I walked through the bathroom… on my way to the toilet (WHAT? Shut up, I drink three liters a day, so I pee a lot. You just wish your bladder was as overworked as mine.) and I looked at the tub and I thought “This is ridiculous. This will drive me crazy all day (except that I think we all know that I would have forgotten it the second I sashayed back through the door to the bedroom), I MUST FIGURE THIS OUT.” So I peed and washed my hands, and then I stood over the tub, and I pondered. Was it the remains of something the cats had found and killed? Because that Tommy likes to hang out in the tub. But then, he also likes to chase his tail while he’s in the tub, so perhaps he’s not quite together enough to kill a small creature and leave its remains all over the tub. Was Fred doing construction somewhere in the house to surprise me (perhaps a small outside enclosure where we could put the litter boxes, which he is doing an admirable job of keeping clean(ish), but which still can stink up the upstairs like you would not BELIEVE)? Probably not, because (a) he’s not really a construction kinda guy and (b) I would have heard the saws running, since I’m pretty much in the house 24 hours a day. I looked around and Sugarbutt twined back and forth between my ankles, stopping occasionally to lick the top of my (besocked) foot, because the cat will lick ANYTHING. Last night Fred had to tip the couch onto its back to look at something, and Sugarbutt jumped atop the couch and licked furiously at the fabric for no reason I could think of. Finally, I looked up by Fred’s sink, and the light dawned. When Fred takes a bath, he sits in the tub and does Sudoku puzzles. And sometimes he has to erase things, and so he sits in the tub and madly erases. And what was all over the inside of the tub was the eraser leavings he’d brushed off his Sudoku puzzles, and which apparently floated around in the water until he pulled the plug, and which gravitated to the sides and bottom of the tub. Mystery solved. Just call me Nancy Drew. It was a Ivana Milicevic kinda weekend for me. First, Friday, I caught up on the two DVR’d episodes of Love Monkey I hadn’t seen yet, and she’s in that. Then Saturday night Fred and I started to watch Slipstream (we didn’t get that far into it before we turned it off), and she’s a major character in that. Then I watched In Her Shoes, and she plays the mother in that (just in pictures). THEN I watched Just Like Heaven on Sunday, and she was in that, too. It’s been a busy year for her, I’d say. Aside from the above-mentioned movies, I also watched Elizabethtown on Sunday. It wasn’t too bad – though Kirsten Dunst gets on my nerves – but I should point out that the majority of my attention was on what I was cross-stitching rather than on the movie, so maybe that made a difference. Same with Just Like Heaven – I was cross-stitching through it, and it didn’t seem to bad to me. Whether that’s because it really isn’t a bad movie or rather because I wasn’t fully paying attention to it, I’ll let you decide. In Her Shoes was really, really good; I recommend it! * * * Heading outside (but not for long – it was COLD!) “NO, Dad! I don’t WANT the collar! Oh, PLEASE don’t put the collar on me!” Writhing around on the floor in protest of the collar. One second you’re laying on the floor, enjoying your life… And the next, you’re getting your ass kicked by your big brother. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. ]]>

Okay, I like Madonna. I, personally, thought she was cuter back when she was all Material Girl in the ridiculous clothes, before she became scarily super-toned and in shape and started to take herself too seriously. Also, the faux-British accent gets on my nerves. But anyway, I like her. I think it’s cool that she’d had a career that’s spanned centuries and is still going strong. You go, girl! But. But. Good christ, the leotard.

I cannot STAND the leotard. She’s wearing the freakin’ leotard EVERYWHERE. I imagine the booking agents at the talk shows are having a cow: “Yes, we’d like to book Madonna – okay, okay, MADGE. We’d like to book MADGE on Letterman for the 15th. To sing and interview, that’s correct. She’ll be the first guest. Oh, and please, for the love of all that is holy can she leave the leotard at home? Because she’s worn the fucking thing so many times it’s got to be fraying in the ass. She’s in fabulous shape, WE GET THE IDEA, please. PLEASE. No more leotard!” I don’t know if she’s wearing it with the attitude of “BOO-YAH, bitches! You said I was a has-been ten seconds after Holiday broke, and I am still HERE, and look at my fine ass in this tight overworn leotard, and I have more money than you could count in a million years, so BITE IT!”, or if it’s more “Look, you fat cow on that couch in Alabama, get OFF your ass and do sixteen hours of yoga a day and eat 1 bean – and on the wild days a scoop of protein powder directly into your mouth – and YOU can look like this too! Come on sister, get moving!” Anyway, Madonna’s cool, but I’d like to see the leotard go directly into the trash. Unless maybe it’s a magic leotard and the source of all her powers? Also, the 70s ‘do. I’m not diggin’ it, Madge. * * * A couple of days ago I was flipping through the guide for the WE channel, and came across Secret Lives of Women because I – perhaps you didn’t know this? – am a woman, and if there are lots of women out there having secret lives, perhaps this is something I need to get in on? Do I need a secret life? What kind of secret life do I need? Where would I find said secret life?, I set up to tape a couple of these Secret Lives of Women episodes, specifically the Late in Life Lesbians and Sex Trade episodes. They seemed like a good place to start, you know? (No, I am sad to say, I am not a Late in Life Lesbian. I am not a lesbian, period. I’m not nearly cool enough.) So yesterday I sat down and watched the Late in Life Lesbian episode while I cross-stitched, and it was pretty good. It featured three different women who’d been married and had kids, and came to the realization – usually in their thirties, now that I think about it – that they were gay. They all had partners, and one of the women – Jocelyn – had a partner who was a retired Marine. For the entire show, Jocelyn’s partner’s face was blurred because, you see, if it came out that she was a lesbian, her VA benefits would be at risk. Which pisses me off, really. I mean, I know if it comes out that you’re gay while you’re in the military you can be discharged, but they can TAKE AWAY YOUR BENEFITS, the benefits you’re given because you served your country, if they find out you’re gay. Seriously? That is fucking ridiculous. Anyway, I think they called her “Ellen”, and they always had her in shadow, or if they showed her with Jocelyn and Jocelyn’s daughters, they had her face blurred out. And then at the end, they showed “Ellen” standing in the foreground in her camoflauge uniform with her head down so you couldn’t see her face, and in the background were Jocelyn and her daughters, and then “Ellen” raised her head, and she said “I’m a lesbian,” took her hat off and finished “And I’m not hiding anymore.” Oh, the TEARS, how they FLOWED, because it just got me right there, y’know? I think that Secret Lives of Women might be my brand new addiction. * * * Brudderly love. “What the -? What are you -? NO, don’t TOUCH MY TAIL. I don’t CARE if it looks so soft and fluffy you’ve just gotta touch it! Good god, that’s MY TAIL! Don’t you know that you don’t TOUCH a man’s TAIL without asking first? JESUS!” I was trying to get a picture of how Miz Poo, when she sits on my lap, just HAS to put her paw on my boob, but I ended up with this one instead. She looks all cross-eyed, and I like how you can see her little row o’ teeth. All uploaded pictures for today are here. * * * Previously 2005: “Life’s too fucking short to read books that suck.” 2004: Damn you, DVR! I WANT to love you, but you’re toying with my emotions! 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: I’m not sure what effect, if any, it had on her.]]>

Currently reading: Killing Yourself to Live, by Chuck Klosterman. Finished late last night: Bitter is the New Black, by Jen Lancaster. I liked it a lot – I laughed out loud several times – and like I said before, I can definitely see it being turned into a movie. Recommended!

* * * So I watched an episode of Oprah yesterday, the one with Faith Hill and Tim McGraw, and I’ve gotta say, they’re a pretty cute couple. Tim must be half monkey, because he kept grooming Faith – once he brushed lint off her pants, and another time he saw a hair on her face and brushed it off. My favorite part was when they were cooking chicken and dumplings in their kitchen, and he was kneading the dough for the dumplings (“dumplins”, I guess I should say. Note for the northerners: dumplins down here are noodle-like rather than the type we’re accustomed to up there) and he said “You have to be careful, because if you knead too much, it’ll get stiff and hard”, and then he had to stop to giggle, and she got mad at him and told him to “Keep it clean.” Giggling like that is EXACTLY something Fred would do. * * * Yeah, can you tell I’m really reaching for topics today? I think today’s another day where I’ll slap up cat pictures and call it an entry. Fred, covered by cats. The funniest part about this picture isn’t the Booger yawning – though that’s a pretty good yawn – but Sugarbutt in the background, looking up at the ceiling. “Bleh. What the hell have I been rolling around in?” “Bob! Damnit! Bring me some ‘nip! I’m going into withdrawal!” “Bitch, you flash that thing at me one more time, I’ma cut you. You get me?” An even better illustration of the lack of hair around Tommy’s mouth. It’s not quite as bare as it looks in the picture, but there’s not a whole lot of hair there. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: Taking the day off. 2004: I don’t believe I mentioned that the Bean has tapeworms. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: And I yelled “Any fucking thing else?!”, addressing, I guess, God. 2000: Okay, so I don’t have much to say today.]]>

* * * If you ever give photo albums (with pictures) to someone as a gift, you know what would be a good addition to that gift? A disc with all the pictures that are in the album, in digital form. Isn’t that a good idea? I think I’m going to start putting together a photo album for the spud of all her pictures from when she was a baby to now. If I start now, maybe I’ll have it done by the time she graduates from high school in 2007!

So, they never were able to find anything wrong with my car. I don’t know if it was just some water in the gas line or what, but Fred drove it home yesterday and said it was running just fine. And then he told the spud that at the dealership they’d told him a teenager must be driving the car. Heh. * * * There’s just nothin’ going on ’round these parts. I’m going to put up a bunch of cat pictures and call it an entry. This picture is to illustrate how sparse the hair around Tommy’s mouth is. I’m not sure why that is. Also, every time he flops down, you can always see that one nipple. I don’t know if it’s a particularly prominent nipple or there’s just less hair around it, but it always catches my eye. Miz Poo on my lap. Spot would like you all to just calm down and be quiet, please. He needs a nap. The “purse carry”, as we call it. Sugarbutt and Mister Boogers like to be carried like this. Brudders quarrel. Brudderly love. All of today’s uploaded pictures, here. * * * Previously 2005: I’ll take my anonymous life, thank you. 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: “What?” he said. “I WASN’T geeky!” 2001: No entry. 2000: Tomorrow, I’m going to go see Dr. Judy for my ear, out of which I still cannot hear anything but constant white noise. ]]>

reading: Bitter is the New Black, by Jen Lancaster. I’m only about a quarter of the way into it, and it’s hilarious! I’m enjoying it a lot. I can totally see this book being made into a movie. Recently finished: The Twelfth Card, by Jeffery Deaver. I adore Lincoln Rhyme and Amelia Sachs. I have a hard time thinking of Rhyme as a white guy, though, since Denzel Washington played him in The Bone Collector. Anyway, an excellent book, with a lovely surprise at the end.

* * * I had to get up early again this morning to take Fred to work, since my car’s still in the shop. They couldn’t seem to find anything wrong with it yesterday, so they decided to let it sit overnight and see if starting it cold this morning would make the problem show up. For the record, it’s running rough and kind of sluggish. My car’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but I still love the little guy. * * * You know how there are cell phones out now that double as mp3 players? I think that the next thing Apple should create is a cell phone/ iPod player. Because I suspect that the current line of phones/ mp3 players leave a little to be desired – surely the music is tinny and not up to iPod standards – and Apple could capture a whole ‘nother market. Actually, I think a cell phone/ iPod/ word processor in one tiny little package would be cool. You’re about to tell me that they already make those, aren’t you? * * * I watched Singles yesterday, because Netflix sent it to me (uh, because it was in my queue, not because they randomly sent it to me) and I wanted to get it watched and sent back so I could start on the first disc of Veronica Mars, season one. Did you know Cameron Crowe made that movie? I had no idea. Anyway, Kyra Sedgwick is in the movie, and it kept nagging at me that she looked like someone, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, and then it struck me… Kyra Sedgwick. Corey Feldman. It’s mostly around the eyes that they resemble each other, but I’m telling you – they could totally play brother and sister in a movie. If Corey Feldman wasn’t a self-important has-been asshole, that is.

Someone pointed out when I went in for surgery last week that I was a big tease, because last year I wrote an entry hinting at the fact that I’d made a big decision and was following through on it – it was this entry, and I was doing a meme, and it said What was your biggest achievement of the year? Finally coming to a decision and starting to follow through on it (she said cryptically). and Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2004. Never say never. And then several months later when she wondered what I’d been talking about, I completely acted like I didn’t know what she was talking about. I did know what she was talking about, I just wasn’t ready to reveal The! Big! Secret! Sorry about that, reader; I’m sure you understand! Also, if you look in the comments to that entry, you’ll note that at least one reader guessed weight loss surgery. And that I didn’t respond to that at ALL. What’s funny is that one of the first commenters guessed weight loss surgery and I freaked out and deleted the comment. Heh. I’m a dork. * * * “I… do not know how this happened to me. I jumped up for a belly rub, and suddenly I was in this convoluted position. It’s surprisingly comfortable.” Brudderly love. All of today’s uploaded pictures can be seen here. * * * Previously 2005: Yes, I use the same kind of lotion as my CAT. 2004: No entry. 2003: Anyway. Enough about my underwear. 2002: You’ve been warned, skank hos out there who would swoop down upon my husband in his grief and get him to marry you. 2001: Yeah, that’s me, not giving a shit if they can see me or not… 2000: Really, what other journaller will thrill you with pictures from the litter box?]]>