Author: Robyn

* * * Recently, Fred and the spud went to Wal-Mart so that she could get some driving practice and do some shopping. While Fred was looking around, he remembered that he needed a dingus sling for his upcoming snip-snip. So he bought it and brought it home and showed it proudly to me, and then left it on top of my dresser for several days. One afternoon when the spud got home from school, we were talking about her day and out of the blue she said “Did Fred model his jock strap for you, too?” “Yeah,” I said, and grinned, remembering how he’d put the jock strap (and nothing else! Whoo!) on and danced around the room. I tried to convince him to shake his butt, yelling “Twinkle twinkle, baby! Twinkle twinkle!” at him like Vince Vaughn in the Be Cool trailer, but he wouldn’t. Because he’s a party pooper. ::sound of tires squealing:: “Um, ‘TOO’? Are you telling me that he modeled his jock strap for YOU?” I said. I envisioned Fred in his jock strap and nothing else, dancing around for the spud while she cried silent, horrified tears and wished frantically for her mommy. The spud nodded and giggled. “Yeah, it was funny!” “It was?” I envisioned Fred in his jock strap and nothing else, dancing around for the spud while she hooted gleefully. “Yeah, he danced around like this,” she explained, demonstrating someone big and goony flitting around the room. That afternoon when he came home, we went upstairs. I lay down on the bed while he was in the closet changing from his work clothes to his comfy sweats. “So,” I said, rolling over onto my stomach so I could see his face. “I understand you modeled your jock strap for the spud?” He paused in the midst of pulling on a pair of sweatpants and gave me a wide-eyed deer-in-the-headlights look. “ON MY HEAD!” he said frantically. “I PUT IT ON MY HEAD AND SHOWED HER!” Heh.

* * * I have created monsters in our kitties. Every single flippin’ time I go into the kitchen, there’s a stampede of kitties right there, hoping to be given some food. Spot is the ringleader and always the first one in the kitchen, sitting and giving me frantic god-in-heaven-woman-I’m-starving-to-death looks. If I don’t immediately give him something to eat he starts meowing. As I believe I’ve mentioned before, Spot damaged his vocal chords when he was a baby by meowing too long at Fred’s apartment door (Spot was outside, trying to get in – but every time Fred opened the door, Spot ran away. Then he’d come back and meow some more.). So Spot doesn’t meow like a normal cat; his meows sound like a squeaks from an unoiled hinge. But he’s gotten a new meow. Now, when he’s demanding food from me in the kitchen, he sounds like a small child screaming. And it drives me NUTS. It’s like nails on a chalkboard and it always sends shivers up my spine. I chase him out of the kitchen, but he always comes back and makes that sound again. He’s persistent as hell, and usually I just give in and toss him a piece of whatever I’m chopping up. I know, not a good response. And of course, if I toss him something, I have to give Mister Boogers and Spanky each a piece, too. It’s gotten to the point where I try to sneak into the kitchen, chop up whatever I have to chop, start it cooking, and run out before the cats catch wind of the fact that I’m in the kitchen. No matter where in the house or yard they are, though, they know within 30 seconds that I’m in the kitchen. Bastards. * * * I’m enjoying the hell out of The O.C in the mornings while I exercise. I’m about to the end of show number 3 of the first season and I get so caught up in the show that the time on the elliptical just flies by. (Seth is totally my boyfriend, by the way, whether he likes it or not. When he went to Marissa’s house and saw Summer standing there in her bra and Marissa said, loudly, “What’s that, Seth? You need a ride to the Star Wars convention?” (so Summer wouldn’t know they were talking about Ryan) and Seth said “Summer was standing there in her bra! Couldn’t you at least say the X-men convention?” I laughed out loud. I love that kid.) This morning, for the second time ever, I did 3.01 miles in 35 minutes. That’s fucking awesome for me. I guess it’s time to up the resistance a bit. * * * Dr. Phil had a follow-up show on the show I talked about last week, Mikai and his family. It aired yesterday and I DVR’d it, but haven’t watched it yet. So far I’m only up to Monday’s show (I always get a bit behind with Dr. Phil and Oprah), but when I do watch it I’ll try to remember to mention my impressions in here. Oh, and speaking of Oprah, she had the cast of Diary of a Mad Black Woman on last week (which I just watched yesterday). That Shemar Moore is one fine, fine, FINE man. I loved him back when I watched The Young and The Restless, and he’s only gotten better looking in the past several years. * * * Talk about your blank look.]]>

several times before. Sadly, we didn’t have the camera with us, and we were sad about that, believe you me. Obviously I need to stick the old camera in my purse and carry it everywhere with me, and I always intend to do that, but then I have to take it out to get the pictures off the memory stick and then I forget to put it back into my purse because I’m forgetful to the extreme. We spent about 45 minutes at the petting zoo. Fred got to feed raw meat to the lynx, who reminded us a great deal of Mister Boogers, not so much because he ran around like his ass was on fire (he didn’t), but because of the look on his face. Fred thought about petting the lynx – which he’s done before – but was afraid that the lynx would think it was food and take a chomp out of Fred’s hand. There were tons and tons of rabbits, some of them in cages, and several in a little petting area. I picked one up and petted it, but put it down pretty quickly because he was so obviously terrified. We fed little bitty pigs and checked out the Patagonian Cavys (and fed them, too), but of course my favorite by far were the itty bitty baby pygmy goats. There were a couple in a fenced area where you could go in and hold them, but there were kids in there doing just that, so we stood outside the fence and petted them and the two little lambs in there with them. The woman who runs the petting zoo (along with her husband) picked up one of the lambs and told me that he really liked to be held. The next thing I knew, she’d dumped him in my arms and walked off. He was the cutest little thing, just sitting there while I held and petted him, and I sniffed his head to see what he smelled like, and he had that exact same raw-peanut smell that kittens do. Fred came over and I handed the lamb over to him, and then we reluctantly put him back in his pen and then Fred went to use the port-a-potty, and I checked out the rabbits one last time, and we left. On the way home, my face started itching something fierce. My left eye got all bloodshot, and I scratched my face until it was bright red. It’s safe to say that I was having a reaction to something at the zoo, whether it was one of the animals or something in the air, I have no idea. We called the spud to see if she was ready to be picked up, and she said she wanted to stay later, so we went home. I took out my contacts and slathered my face with hydrocortisone cream and then we got in bed and talked for a few minutes before taking a 45-minute nap. In the same bed! The horror! The spud called when Fred was making dinner (egg burritos – recipe: scramble eggs. Put in flour tortilla. Eat.) and asked if she could stay later. He told her if she could get a ride home from someone she could stay later, she talked to her friends, and then said she’d call at 5:45 for us to come pick her up. We ate, we went and picked her up, we came home, she disappeared upstairs, and then we watched four episodes of The Shield, Season 3. That’s a busy, busy Saturday for us. It was kind of nice to get out of the house for the day, actually.

* * * So there’s this commercial that’s been running on Fox this week. It’s a commercial for The O.C., which I do not watch (more on that in a sec), and in said commercial there’s a voiceover about how Kirsten and Sandy have gotten their marriage back on track (yes, I know the character names, I SAID more on that in a sec!) only that troublesome Billy Campbell is joining the cast and WILL HE MAKE TROUBLE? Cue Billy Campbell giving Kirsten a come-hither look. Cue Billy and Kirsten at a table in a restaurant. “I’m married,” she says with an air of oh-god-Billy-I-wish-I-wasn’t-’cause-I’d-so-do-you-on-this-table-right-here. Billy gives her a come-hither look. “But you’re not wearing a wedding ring,” he points out. Kirsten gives him a full-of-conflict you’ve-got-me-there, somewhat embarrassed look. Which is when I scream at the TV. “So fucking WHAT if she isn’t wearing a wedding band, Billy Campbell, you shithead! She just told you she’s married! Not wearing a wedding band DOESN’T MEAN SHIT. Kirsten, tell him it’s none of his motherfucking business whether you wear a wedding band or not! GOD, Billy Campbell, I’m SO SORRY she isn’t wearing a wedding band. OBVIOUSLY if she was, you’d know she wasn’t worth your time, FUCKER.” Okay, I only yelled that the first time. After that, I only yell “Shut the fuck up, Billy Campbell.” I go through stages where I don’t wear my wedding band – long stages, months at a time. Usually because it’s uncomfortable, sometimes because I’m having swelling issues and take the ring off and forget to put it back on. Fred doesn’t wear a wedding band at all, because it’s uncomfortable for him. Does that mean we’re less committed to each other? NO. Cripes, Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee got their names tattooed on each others’ ring fingers, and you don’t see them together anymore, do you? Whether I’m wearing my wedding band or not, we are a happy couple (though I know some people don’t believe that. See: “God, I can’t believe they sleep in separate bedrooms. That’s NOT GOOD for a marriage at all, they’re THIS CLOSE to divorce!” See also: “God, she’s such a bitch. He deserves so much better. He deserves ME!”). Just because I’m not wearing a wedding band doesn’t mean that Billy Campbell can try his slimy wiles on me. Which, I’m sure, is something I need to worry about. You just mind your own damn business, Mr. Billy Campbell. SHE SAID SHE WAS MARRIED. * * * The scoop on The O.C: I never watched it when it started, and when the buzz got going on what a good show it was (or at least a guilty pleasure) it was more than halfway through the season, and thus too late for me to catch up. Fast forward to earlier this month, when Netflix sent me the first disc of the first season of The O.C. I started watching it while I was working out on Sunday, and I watched it again today, and I think I like it. I’ve even gone so far as to add the other six discs to my Netflix queue. Which brings my Netflix queue to around 300. Damn! * * * For some reason, The Boog likes to jump down in this little space next to my desk (perhaps he enjoys the ten tons of cobwebs) and smack that bottle top around. ]]>

Hey, help a girl out! I just got bombarded with Barnes and Noble and Amazon.com gift cards for my birthday yesterday. Turning 35 wasn’t so bad after all! Can you recommend some good books? I just read Mystic River and LOVED it. Not too chicky just good reads. Non chick-lit books I highly recommend: Anything by Harlan Coben (Fred loves the Myron Bolitar series; I think his non-series books are better, though I liked the Myron Bolitar books, too), Andrew Vachss, Lisa Gardner, Margaret Maron, Karin Slaughter, Carol O’Connell or Lee Child has an automatic two thumbs up from me. Andrew Vachss, Carol O’Connell and Lee Child all have series that have total ass-kickers as protagonists, and I like that in a character. I Love Everybody (and other atrocious lies), by Laurie Notaro. I finished reading that yesterday, and it had me laughing out loud many times. Hostage, by Robert Crais. Brimstone, by Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child I like the Repairman Jack books, but they have an element of science fiction to them that isn’t for everybody – I usually am not into science fiction at all, but for Repairman Jack I make the exception. Those are all that come to mind at the moment, but I know there are more. Everyone else, join in – what have you read lately that is really good? Leave a comment!

* * * So, I don’t know that I’ve mentioned this before, but Fred and I absolutely love Scrubs. We look forward to watching it every week, and it always makes us laugh. A few weeks ago we were watching an episode we’d recorded, and there was this short bit at the beginning of the show that pretty much captures why we love this show so much. Because I love you, I made Fred turn it into a .mpg so that those of you who haven’t checked out the show can enjoy it, and those of you who have checked out the show and like it can be reminded why this is such a great show. Don’t be lickin’ me no mo’. Fred and I sing this song CONSTANTLY and we’ve watched the clip about a thousand times; it’s just addictive. I’ll leave the clip up for the rest of the month; if it’s April and you’re just now reading this and the clip’s no longer there, I’m sorry you missed it. You may need to watch it in Quicktime. As always, right-click and save it to your hard drive if you’ll be watching it multiple times. * * * Ooh, look! Another meme! This one stolen from Miz Jolie. the scar you’re most proud of The scar on my back where I had the mole removed. It’s totally badass. your favourite condiment Ketchup! I love love love ketchup. if you have freckles Tons. your preferred method of cooking Ordering out! Heh. what shoes you’re wearing I’m not wearing shoes right now; the last shoes I was wearing were black leather Keds. how many children you have Just the one. the first person you french kissed My first boyfriend, John B0wi3. Ugh. It was horrifying. your preferred breed of dog Oh, those big messy friendly dogs who galumph around excitedly if you so much as look at them sideways. As long as they’re not galumphing around my house, that is. where you were born Bangor, Maine. what colour underwear you’re wearing Er… black. where your keys are right now In my purse, which is right next to my desk. if you have split ends Nope; I just had my hair trimmed a couple of weeks ago. when you last got laid Um. None of your BUSINESS. your opinion on airline food I know I’m supposed to say that it sucks, but honestly? It’s not bad. The snacks are better than the meals, but the meals aren’t usually all that horrifying. what cosmetic surgery you would consider Just about anything that didn’t require having foreign substances inserted into my body and left there – so that rules out any kind of implants. Also, Botox? Never ever ever. Also, I probably wouldn’t have much plastic surgery on my face, because I hate the unnatural plastic look that comes from too much plastic surgery. best kiddie playground equipment to have sex on Uh, GROSS. Kids PLAY on that equipment, you know. your worst malady Ongoing: my eczema. One-time: the tumor on my right knee. if your mum loves your dad I’m sure she does. if you can sing well I couldn’t carry a tune if I took sixty years of singing lessons and had a bucket to carry it in. what your olympic event would be Is there a “Reading” event? someone you admire Stephen King. which country would be hardest for you to locate on a map Paraguay. the last time you cried I don’t remember what it was, but Fred and I were watching something last week and I got all teary-eyed and he laughed at me, and I said “I can’t help it! I feel bad for them!” (And yes, getting teary-eyed counts as crying – because I get teary-eyed all the time, but I can’t recall the last time I boo-hooed.) your most interesting sexual congress location Damn, what’s with the sex questions? part of the Sunday papers you read first The classifieds, followed by the real estate section. the languages you speak Just English. the religion you were raised in “Protestant”. When I was growing up on Air Force Bases, there were two religions: Protestant and Catholic. I had no idea until I was mostly grown that there were different kinds of Protestant. if you can draw well Not in the slightest. your favourite photograph Of the cats: one of the last pictures of Tubby. That involves me: the picture of Fred and I from the quarry last year. The spud: Her school picture from last year, where she was wearing a hooded sweatshirt. Otherwise: The picture of my parents and Brian floating in innertubes in Hawaii last year, and the picture of Debbie and Brian doing the same. what you should be doing instead of this Cleaning the upstairs. * * * Watching the birdies… * * *]]>

Surrender, Dorothy. I don’t know when I read it the first time (it wasn’t in 2003, 2004, or 2005, ’cause it’s not on any of my reading lists), but I don’t remember what ultimately happens in the course of the book, so I’m going to finish reading it. It’s a short book. As an aside, every time I see the title of the book, I think of Quinn screaming “I’m DORFY!” I’m not crazy about Meg Wolitzer – I really didn’t care for The Wife at all. All I can guess is that I forgot she wrote The Wife and that I’d read Surrender, Dorothy, and someone somewhere highly recommended Surrender, Dorothy in their blog or an email, and so I put it on my wish list. Generally speaking, if I read your blog or journal and you recommend a book and make the story sound even slightly interesting, chances are good (if I haven’t already read it) that I’ll add it to my wish list. As long as it isn’t dick lit, that is. And speaking of my wish list, great big thanks to reader Susan, who bought me The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things off my wish list! You rock, Susan!

* * * Dumbass things I did yesterday: 1. At some point during the day I pulled a muscle in my right shoulder. It hurt a LOT, and I decided to take it easy (bwah! As opposed to my usual hard-working day of sitting on my ass in front of the computer or TV, I suppose!). I started dinner – chicken noodle soup – and then decided to pull out the refrigerator and vacuum and mop behind it, because I’d mopped the kitchen floor the other day and got a huge dust bunny from under the fridge. My shoulder did not thank me for pulling out the fridge, believe you me. 2. I was looking for my checkbook to write a check, and couldn’t find it. So I grabbed another book of checks from out of my desk drawer, wrote the check, and set the book of checks to the side. Two minutes later I looked over at the book of checks and said “Oh, that’s where the checkbook is. I can’t believe I didn’t see it there before!” It took about ten minutes before I realized that it was the book of checks I’d taken out of the desk drawer. Doy. * * * So, on Dr. Phil last week was this two-part show entitled “Is My Son a Sexual Predator?” On the show were two parents of a 19 year-old boy who, they were worried, was a sexual predator (I bet you never would have figured that out from the title, eh?). Also on the show was the boy himself – Mikai – and his three brothers. The parents were worried that Mikai had been “inappropriate” with girls as young as 13 and – here’s the kicker – they were worried that he’d molested his own sister when she was 2 years old, and had instituted a “two brother” rule. That is, he was no longer allowed to be alone in the house with his sister; there always had to be a second brother present. The most disturbing part was when they showed video of Mikai and his little sister wrestling on the floor, and he glanced over to see if anyone was watching him, and then his hand slid down between her legs for a few instances. To me it looked deliberate and it seemed to bother Dr. Phil and Mikai’s parents as well. Most of the first show was talking about the problems with Mikai and him denying that he’d done anything with his sister, that he’d ever been “inappropriate” with anyone, that it was all a big misunderstanding (every time) and that he’d been molested many times as a child so the only way to interact with other people was sexually. Finally, Dr. Phil asked Mikai if he’d be willing to take a lie detector test, and he said he would. The lie detector test didn’t actually take place until the second show. But they hyped the holy hell out of the fact that the kid was going to take the lie detector test. Every single time they went to commercial, every time they had a commercial about the show, they showed Dr. Phil beginning to read the results of the test, then they’d cut it off before we got to the actual result. And just so you know, I just KNEW that the lie detector test was going to show that Mikai had never molested his little sister, never acted inappropriately with young girls, that none of that stuff was true. I just KNEW IT. Because remember when Dr. Phil had the woman on and then wouldn’t show the piece they’d filmed for the show because if he did, DHS would be on her doorstep when she got home? Well, if it was found that Mikai had molested his sister, wouldn’t the same thing be true? Wouldn’t the police be there to arrest him? So I was pretty confident that the lie detector test was going to show that Mikai was telling the truth. You could have blown me away when the test results were actually read, then. Question 1: “Did you ever touch your sister’s vagina or breasts with the pre-understanding that this was meant as a sexual activity.” Answer: “Your answer was ‘no,’ and the results indicate strong deception on your part. The results indicate that you have in fact touched her in a sexual way on her vagina and/or breasts.” Question 2: “Did you ever have sex with anyone against her will or with anyone under the age of 14?” Answer: Mikai answered no; the test results revealed clear deception for both. Dr. Phil confronted Mikai, Mikai denied it some more, and then Mikai’s father said “You’d better tell him the truth; you’re dead to us.” and Mikai finally admitted that it had happened. Like I said, a seriously intense and disturbing show. The parents and brothers were understandably devastated and so was Mikai. I swear I had chills by the time the show ended. Say what you will about Dr. Phil; at least he’s willing to work with Mikai and his family (who said several times that they want nothing to do with him anymore); he’s willing to foot the bill so that this family can find a way to heal. I cannot imagine much that’s more horrifying than finding out that your own child is a sexual predator, that he’s molested another of your children, and that he’s had forcible sex with girls, and sex with girls under the age of 14. * * * His Majesty is displeased.]]>

drive-bys. From the February 14th issue of People magazine, in the “Scoop” section:

In case you can’t tell, that’s Julia Roberts, leaving her house. In the left picture, a nanny is carrying one of Julia’s twins, with Julia about two feet away. In the center picture Julia’s husband is carrying “supplies”, and in the right-hand picture is a close-up of the twin an “assistant” is carrying. From the March 7th issue of People magazine, in the “Mailbag” section: To: editor@people.com From: me Subject: “Mailbag” Regarding the letter in your “Mailbag” section from Erika Gebhardt of Chula Vista, CA. Erika Gebhardt, who said “What kind of mother doesn’t carry her own children?” is amazing. She saw a picture that captured one instant in the life of Julia Roberts and her children, and instantly discerned that Julia is an uncaring mother. I guess that Erika Gebhardt has never allowed anyone else to hold or carry her children – if she indeed has any. Bravo, Erika Gebhardt! What America really needs is more mothers like you who sit around and decide that viewing one moment in a celebrity’s day is enough to judge the rest of her life. By the way, Erika: who watches your kids while you’re busy reading PEOPLE and firing off those indignant letters? Robyn And3rson * * * I think that Erika Gebhardt is a bit of an asshole. I think her real gripe is that Julia Roberts can afford to employ nannies and assistants to get her kids from the house to the car. I mean, please. Because for one fucking instant Julia Roberts isn’t carrying her children, Erika Gebhardt questions her fitness as a mother? I mean, has Erika Gebhardt never put her children down so she could take a shower or a nap or pee? Does she have her children surgically attached to her so that the little dears never for one instant in their lives have to be an entire foot from their judgemental asshole* of a mother? Those must be some seriously well-adjusted children. *Yeah, yeah, pot-kettle-black. * * * Pet store kitty pics from Monday are here. * * * From my comments: Hey Robyn, My favorite part of your journal is the petstore kitties. How do you manage to work there every week and not bring one home? Second is the adoption rate pretty high? I live in rural east Texas and unfortunately our Animal Control is a far cry from a pet placement organization. I have two young cats and I am considering another . Have you made any observations about deciding a kittens future temperment? I have 4 kids. We adopted both of our cats full grown, now the kids are set on a kitten. I just know it needs to be a pretty confident cat to handle our house! Have you every adopted a pet and it did not work out? I would love to read anything you would like to share about the petstore and choosing your own cats. Thanks! There are days when it is really, REALLY hard to put all the cats back in their cages and leave them there. I guess that main thing that keeps me from bringing home cats is the knowledge that the shelter I volunteer for is a no-kill shelter, so even if the cats don’t get adopted while they’re at the store, they’ll just go back to the shelter and live a pretty happy and pampered life there. Also, if I started bringing home cats without discussing it with Fred first, I’d get my ass divorced. Heh. The adoption rate seems to be pretty good – I think they had 70ish cats and kittens at the shelter last month and around 20 adopted out. I think that’s a pretty good rate, since adoptions kind of fall off at this time of the year. In a few months when all the unspayed (grrr) cats are having their unexpected babies, which are dropped off at the shelter, adoptions will pick up quite a bit. The highest number of adoptions tend to take place (if I recall correctly) between June and December, then drop off for a while. In my experience, you can get a pretty good idea of a cat’s temperament as long as you spend a few minutes holding the cat and playing with it. For example, when I first held Miz Poo, she howled at me until I picked her up and started petting her, which is when she rubbed her face against mine and just generally acted like a little princess. That gave me a pretty good idea of what she was like, and to this day she thinks she’s a tiny little princess. We got an idea of what Mr. Boogers’ temperament was like when we saw this picture: That picture, right there, tells you all you need to know about him. We could tell he was feisty and wouldn’t take shit from anyone, and that’s held true. I guess, basically, what I’m saying is that you generally know right away what a cat is like, as long as you can spend a few minutes in a quiet place with them and really pay attention to how they act. We’ve never had a cat who didn’t work out, but a few years ago we did adopt a dog and ended up returning her to the humane society. We found out pretty quickly that we’re cat people, not dog people. We felt bad for returning her, but better that she go back to the humane society and have the chance to be adopted by someone who would spoil her, you know? And lastly, it’s been my experience – I’m sure this doesn’t hold true across the board, and that there are exceptions – that if you’re going to bring a new cat into a home where there are already cats, it’s best to bring home a kitten, because they seem to adjust better than older cats. If you’re lucky, you’ll find a feisty cat who will hold his or her own and will happily play with the older cats when they try to put the smack down. Good luck, and let me know how it goes! * * * I don’t think that’s exactly a look of love Spanky’s giving Miz Poo… * * *]]>

The Bachelorette spoiler; skip to the next section if you haven’t seen the final show yet. Ugh. Man, what a travesty. I was no big fan of John Paul (I keep wanting to call him Jean-Paul) because something about his lips kinda creeped me out, but I did feel sorry for the little guy. But, what the hell? I mean, what the HELL can she possibly be thinking? Like that chick from the audience asked, what the hell is it going to take for Jen to find love? Okay, I know that this show has a stupid premise, because most people can’t meet someone, date him (at the most) once a week for six weeks and know for certain that they’re soulmates – I mean the fact that the couples from this show have such a poor track record should prove that it doesn’t really work. I wasn’t a big Jerry fan, either – I really liked Ryan and Ben the most, and I think Wendell would be fun to hang out with – but I sure didn’t like seeing him being DUMPED ON NATIONAL TELEVISION. For god’s sake, Jen seemed really convinced that he knew what she was going to say, but he looked a little shell-shocked to me. I mean, I think he was probably RELIEVED, but still taken by surprise. Why couldn’t she have just taken the ring and then broken up with him quietly later when they were alone? I understand that if there was no spark, there was no spark, but she used that excuse with a bunch of the other guys too, didn’t she? Maybe she’s just not trained to spot a spark when it happens. She’s spark-deficient! Jerry looked a lot better with the shorter hair, by the way. Oh, and the whole thing with Ryan’s family and his parents talking about Thailand constantly back when she met his family a few weeks ago? I don’t know if Jen was just trying to be funny, but her snarky “Let’s see, there’s Thailand, and Thailand, and, oh, Thailand!” comment made me want to scoop her eyeballs out with a fork and serve them to her with a nice chianti. She complained that they didn’t really make an effort to get to know her, but THE STREET RUNS BOTH WAYS, LADY!

* * * Hey, remember two years ago when I put up an assload of reader pet pictures? Well, I’m in the process of moving entries over to Movable Type (it’s going very slowly) and in the interest of saving space I’m deleting those pictures. I’ve already deleted the ones from March 2003, and tonight or tomorrow I’ll be deleting the ones from February. I just wanted to let y’all know, in case you were wondering where they went. * * * From my comments: AND! This is bugging the shit outta me! I run Windows 2000…WHY when I load your page, when it starts to load the right hand column, I get this error message: A Runtime Error has occurred. Do you wish to Debug? Line:1 Error: Syntax Error. I have NO clue. Does anyone else have this problem? Anyone know what might be causing it? Okay, here’s what I’ve never understood about nightgown wearers…doesn’t that thing ride up to your armpits whilst you sleep? I used to wear gowns as a child and I can remember waking up with a sweaty upper-body and cold legs. Now I sleep in an old tshirt and flannel boxers every night and I’m quite comfy. Don’t you get cold too? Wearing a gown around the house…the air just blows right on up through your legs! I do have to agree with you on sizing, you want pjs that are a few sizes too big…so comfy. I never have a problem with my nightgown riding up to my armpits… because I sleep nekkid! 🙂 I put the nightgown on every night around 9, when I’m getting ready for bed, then wear it ’til 11 or 12, when I toss it on the floor and go to sleep. I wear it for a little while in the morning if I have to do some chores before I go work out, and then I put it on for a few minutes after my shower. Most of the time that I’m wearing it I’m upstairs, and I don’t get cold because the second floor of our house is about ten degrees warmer than the first floor. I will occasionally wear something to sleep in – like when the spud and I were in Hawaii last year and I didn’t want her to see me nekkid and be blinded for life – but I never sleep as well as I do when I’m not wearing anything at all. Hey, on the catnip subject, have you ever tried giving them valerian? (You can get it at places that sell herbs.) It smells a little bit like socks, but man, do the cats ever love it. Even Lena, who turns her nose up at catnip, gets all stoned on that stuff. We do have a bottle of Valerian somewhere – or at least, we used to. We don’t use it much because it smells awful and all the cats like catnip, but every now and then we’ll get it out. It’s been a while, though – I’ll have to see if we still have it. Know what else gets some cats high? Lily bulbs! They’re poisonous to cats, so you can let them have direct access, but I put a lily bulb in a small plastic container last year, and Mister Boogers would get totally, completely looped. It was hysterical, but the other cats weren’t interested at ALL. * * * My lord, have you seen the latest Shania Twain video? I think the song is called “Don’t”. In the song, Shania is wearing a dress that showcases her breasts – she has spectacular breasts, by the way, in case you’ve never seen her. Anyway, at one point in the video she’s wearing her breast-showcasing dress and is on a horse, and the horse is at a full trot or gallop or whatever (I don’t know what you’d call it) and Shania’s breasts are bouncing so hard that it makes my own breasts ache. Bouncing like that just can’t be a good thing. * * * I’ve taken to occasionally drinking a cup of peppermint tea lately – I think I heard about it over at The Fat Diaries, and it sounded kind of good, so I thought I’d give it a try. I bought a box and it sat in the pantry for a few months, and then finally I decided to see if it was as good as it sounded. With a lot of Splenda, it tastes exactly like one of those red-and-white peppermint candies, so on days (like today!) when I’m freezing, I brew up a nice, warm cup of tea and drink it. The other day I thought for sure that my breath must smell really good, so I said to Fred “Hey, does my breath smell all minty?”, and blew a breath into his face. He sniffed, thought for a moment, sniffed again, and said “It kind of smells like pot.” Oh. * * * “Yes, I’m laying in the bed that Miz Poo has claimed as her own. She wasn’t here, so I’m laying in it. And I ain’t moving. She can smack and hiss at me all she wants, but I’m not going ANYWHERE.” (And he didn’t. You can imagine how pissed off Miz Poo was, and she hissed and smacked at him, and he just gave her this look and refused to move.) * * *]]>

new logo! This one was created by the lovely and talented Ann. The look on the Booger’s face just cracks me up. Thanks, Ann!

* * * March 1st, and it’s friggin’ FLURRYING outside. Ugh. Also, with the wind chill factor it feels like it’s 20 degrees out there. Double ugh. * * * My parents finally called from Hawaii over the weekend. With the time difference between here and there, they’d forget to call until it was the middle of the night for us, so it’s been a few weeks since I talked to my mother. She seems to be having a good time, what with the warm weather and the beach. They’re in a different hotel this time, this one overlooking a marina. She said, at one point, “You know, it’s not too late for you to make plans to come over!”, and let me tell you – I was tempted in a big way, because like I said, I’ve forgotten the head-to-toe rash and the urge to kill my mother from last year. But finally I had to say “Yeah, it is too late – the only time we could come over would be during Spring Break and that’s only a few weeks away.” Which is when she said “Well, we’ll just have to not let your father retire, so he can come again next year!” and then she said “And he looks like he agrees with that!” Heh. Then she told me that he might be going to Virginia Beach in the fall for three months (for work, this is), and I said “That’s so close that we might have to drive up and visit him while he’s there!” Of course, a check of Mapquest tells me that it’s a 12 or 13 hour drive, but hey – I was willing to drive to Myrtle Beach last Fall, I’m sure I can handle the couple extra hours to Virgina Beach. Besides, I’ve never been to Virginia Beach, I’d love to check it out. * * * Great big thanks to reader Debbie, who sent me Wil Wheaton‘s book Just a Geek from my wish list. Y’all know I just love getting surprises in the mail, and I totally wasn’t expecting this, so yesterday was an awesome mail day for me. I’m looking forward to reading the book – I read and very much enjoyed Dancing Barefoot a few months ago. So, thank you, Debbie! You rock! * * * Speaking of books, I managed to make my book-a-day-in-February quota with an extra book, even. Go, me! I’ll be glad to get back to my regular reading schedule, though, where I don’t have to make sure to get a book read every day. That was stressful! Maybe for my next goal, I’ll go through all the books I have, and make a pile of the ones that I’ve had for several years, and get those read! * * * Fred has noticed something that happens quite often on 24, and it always makes us laugh. There’ll be a room full of people, and some guy will walk up to Jack and say “Damn it, Jack, I need to know the truth! What the hell is going on?”, and Jack will glance around at the other people in the room, then he’ll grab the guy by the arm and pull him away from the crowd to tell him what’s going on. Except that instead of pulling the guy AWAY from the crowd, Jack will pull the guy like TWO FEET from where they were, with the crowd of people still around them, and tell him what’s going on. He never pulls the guy out into the hallway or into another room; no, he just thinks that pulling the guy two feet from where they were somehow puts a magic bubble around them, and doesn’t seem to know that the people who were there, crowded around, are STILL RIGHT THERE, probably eavesdropping on the conversation. I think I could totally write a scene for 24: Tony: Jack, what the hell is going on? I need to know the truth! Jack: (glances around, pulls Tony two feet from where he was standing) Tony, I can’t tell you what’s going on right now. I’m asking you to trust me!(Jack’s always asking people to trust him.) Tony: Yeah, sure. Jack: Okay, fine. THE END. I’ll just sitting over here waiting for my Emmy, thanks. * * * So, I needed to get a new lamp for the computer room. I did a lot of looking around, and then decided I’d found the perfect lamp. When I was ordering it (online, at BedBathandBeyond.com), I needed to choose a lampshade. I didn’t want a plain old white one, so I opted for the faux leather lampshade. It arrived last night, and I put the lamp together, and… well… does the lampshade look like it’s made out of human skin to anyone else? It’s kind of ugly, but it’s going to be so much easier to dust than the lampshades on the other lamps in the house. And that’s always a plus! * * * I was talking to Liz last night, and she said “What’s the phrase they used on that episode of Seinfeld? Sweet Moses? Something like that?” “Sweet fancy Moses!” I said. “Yeah, that’s it!” she said, and went on to tell me that someone she works with is a Seinfeld fan, too. But I tuned her out for a moment because you know what? sweetfancymoses.com would be an excellent domain name. (PS: Both Jerry and George said “Sweet fancy Moses!” regarding Elaine’s dancing. In case you were wondering.) * * * Also, a couple of you asked about my nightgown, so I took a picture of it. I know, it’s ugly. And it’s about two sizes too big for me, but it is SO freakin’ comfortable that I’m having a hard time getting rid of it. I got it years ago from the Lane Bryant or Roaman’s catalog and I’ve worn it nearly every night since then. I’m actually surprised it’s not in worse shape! * * * I think someone’s been sniffing the catnip again… ]]>

1. What time did you get up this morning? Around 7:15 – I meant to get up at 6:40 when Fred left for work, but I stayed up late last night, and wanted to snooze for a while before getting up and getting ready to hit the pet store. 2. Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds, I suppose, though I don’t really wear any jewelry at all. 3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? It was in Maine after Christmas, so I’m thinking… National Treasure? 4. What is your favorite TV show? Desperate Housewives, Lost, The Bachelorette, 24, The Shield. I can’t choose just one! 5. What did you have for breakfast? Half a blueberry bagel with a smear of peanut butter, and a scrambled egg. 6. What is your middle name? Leslie. 7. What is your favorite cuisine? I’m partial to Chinese food, though I do get cravings for Italian from time to time. 8. What foods do you dislike? Anything with green peppers or deer meat in it. 9. What is your favorite chip flavor? I don’t eat chips all that often, but when I do, I like sour cream and onion. 10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? The Cold Mountain soundtrack. 11. What kind of car do you drive? I’ll pass on this one for the time being, but there should be news in a week or so. 🙂 12. Favorite sandwich? If made at home, I like a ham and cheese sandwich. At Subway, I like the BMT on white with mayo. 13. What characteristic do you despise? What do you call the characteristic where someone sees a snapshot of an instant of your life and judges everything about every second of your life from that moment they see? 14. Favorite item of clothing? My nightgown. My poor, bedraggled nightgown. It’s ugly and it’s been washed so many times you can pretty much see through it, but it’s the most comfortable nightgown I’ve ever owned. It needs to be tossed, because it’s started to tear in places, but I can’t seem to make myself get rid of it. If I had the sewing skills, I’d use the nightgown as a pattern to make another one (or more!) of the same nightgown, but I am woefully unskilled when it comes to sewing. I’ve bought a thousand nightgowns, but none of them even come close. 15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation where would you go? If I could get to Hawaii without the 12 hours on the plane, I’d go in an instant. 16. What color is your bathroom ? Our entire house is painted the same color – a slightly pinkish warm cream color. The master bathroom has blue-gray towels and a matching bathmat. The spud’s bathroom has a cat-themed shower curtain and towels. 17. Favorite brand of clothing? As long as it’s comfortable and I like the color, I don’t care about the brand. 18. Where would you retire to? Maine in the summer, Hawaii in the winter. Except that that would reallllly freak out the cats, that 12-hour plane trip. I’ll say Maine in the summer, Florida in the winter. Money being no object, of course. If I had to choose between the two, I’d say Florida, since it’s warm year-round. 19. Favorite time of the day? Dusk, when my family is in the house and we’re all doing our own thing but I know where they are and don’t have to worry. 20. What was your most memorable birthday? They all kind of blend together, really. Maybe the birthday when I turned 21 and could legally drink and got looped on one single strawberry dacquiri. Heh. 21. Where were you born? Bangor, Maine. 22. Favorite sport to watch? Ice skating. I’ll watch poker if I know the people who are playing. Especially Annie Duke and Howard Lederer. Although Annie Duke annoyed me when she was playing some all-stars poker tournament (I don’t remember exactly what it was called) and she knocked her brother out of the game and apologized profusely to him. DON’T APOLOGIZE, ANNIE. YOU’RE JUST PLAYING THE GAME. 23. What fabric detergent do you use? Tide. Every now and then I’ll give something else a try, but I always come back to Tide. 24. Coke or Pepsi? Diet Coke, preferably from McDonald’s. 25. Are you a morning person or a night owl? More of a night owl, I’d say. 26. What is your shoe size? 9 wide. 27. Do you have any pets? I have four cranky cats and you can see them here, here, here, and here. 28. How old are you now? 37. 29. What did you want to be when you were little? It changed pretty frequently. I remember wanting to be a vet (’til I realized how much school was involved), a teacher, an orthopedic surgeon, and a psychiatrist. 30. What are you meant to be doing today? Aside from doing laundry and vacuuming the upstairs, my day’s pretty much open. I need to watch some stuff I’ve DVR’d lately to clear some space.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ From my comments: The picture of Hawaii is so beautiful. Would you consider offering it as wallpaper? And since I’m about to experience my first 8+ -hour flight, can you offer any suggestions for how to best cope? The full-sized picture of Hawaii is here – you’ll probably have to size it down to use it as wallpaper, I wasn’t sure what size to make it. As for the 8+ hour flight, when I was getting ready to leave for Hawaii someone suggested that I get some Ambien from my doctor. She said it’ll knock you out and you’ll sleep deeply and wake up feeling really refreshed. I wasn’t able to give that a try myself, because I didn’t get a chance to see my doctor before I left, but believe you me – I wished like hell I had! If anyone else has advice for someone going on a long flight (and 8+ hours? My heart goes out to you!), leave it in the comments, eh? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Okay, a lot of you don’t know what hotlinking is, so I’m going to explain it the way I’d want it explained to me. Say you look at this page, and you say to yourself “Oh my god, that look that Yo Boogity has on his face EXACTLY describes the mood I’m in today. I must put that picture up on my page!” What you should do (we won’t get into the fact that you shouldn’t be stealing pictures of other peoples’ cats for your own use without asking permission; that’s a whole ‘nother topic.) is right-click and save the picture to your hard-drive, then upload it somewhere, whether to tinypic or another free image hosting site, or if you have your own domain, somewhere on your domain. Then, when you’re ready to put the picture on your page, you would link to the picture where you saved it – whether it be one of the free image hosting sites or your domain. But if you’re a hotlinker, what you would do is right-click on the picture, see that the image is located at http://cats.robynand3rson.com/graphics/StanleyOne.jpg, and you would put that address in your image tag. That way, the picture shows up on your page when people check it out, but every time your page loads, it steals bandwidth from me, because I host the image, which is located at the cat.robynanderson.com address. I hope that clears it up for you. Have I mentioned that finding someone is hotlinking an image on my site really pisses me off? I spent all weekend obsessively checking my stats and changing image names so that someone who, say, intends to wish their friend a happy birthday by hotlinking to an image of a cake on my site might come back to find that they’re actually wishing their friend a happy birthday in a whole new way. If that ain’t the face of a bandwidth thief, I don’t know what is. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~]]>

comments in this entry about gave me a stroke yesterday. And yet, I read every damn one of them because I’m a sucker for stories that piss me off. Heh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ So I went to the doctor’s office on Wednesday, because the skin on my face is itchy and blotchy and there are rough bumps – not all the time, but a lot of the time – and I’ve been meaning to ask the doctor if she thought I had rosacea for ages now, and finally I sucked it up and made the appointment. I was sitting in the waiting room, and it was pretty packed, because this is a very busy doctor’s office. Sitting behind me and over a few seats was a woman who didn’t seem to know that unless you want everyone in the area to listen to your conversation, you should use your Indoor Voice. Instead, Phone Woman was talking at full volume, and I did my best not to listen, and instead concentrate on my book, but she was so loud that finally I just had to put my book down, stare at a wall, and just listen to the conversation. Phone Woman, it appears, works with a woman named Brenda. Brenda is a horrible, horrible woman. She’s trying to hold Phone Woman back, she’s trying to mess with her career, she is INTIMIDATED by Phone Woman, who is a strong, black woman and won’t take any guff from anyone. Phone Woman doesn’t know why Brenda’s gotta be like that. Obviously Brenda is threatened by Phone Woman and is just lashing out. Brenda doesn’t even know how to say a simple “thank you.” Why, when Doug did her that big favor a little while back, Brenda couldn’t even be bothered to utter the words “Thank” and “you”. Instead, she said “I don’t need your charity.” All Doug wanted was a thank you, a little show of appreciation, and Brenda wouldn’t give him that. “Thank you,” said Phone Woman. “That’s all she had to say! A simple ‘thank you’ would have made Doug as happy as a sissy with a dick in his mouth!” My jaw dropped, and I wasn’t the only one – an older woman sitting across from me gave me a “do you believe this?” look, and we shook our heads at each other. Someone needs to teach Phone Woman how to use her Indoor Voice, because I’m 99% certain that the woman sitting two seats down from Phone Woman, the one with two kids under five, had to answer the question “What’s a dick?”, because those kids were listening to every word coming out of Phone Woman’s mouth. I wasn’t around to hear the question, though, ’cause it was my turn to see the doctor. She prescribed a cream for me to use on my face. Hopefully the blotchiness will go away; I’m keeping my fingers crossed! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Did I mention that my parents are in Hawaii again? My father’s there temporarily for work, and my mother decided to go with him again. Obviously, the spud and I won’t be going to Hawaii again, but I had a dream last night that I we were in Hawaii during Spring Break, and it was beautiful and warm. See, this is how my memory works – I tend to remember how beautiful and warm Hawaii is, rather than remembering how miserable I was, with the head-to-toe rash and the noise from the street construction and how freakin’ HOT I was. I remember the good stuff, and I get the yearning to go again. I’m not going, but I kind of wish I was, you know? I told Fred the other night that someday we should go to Hawaii and drive out of the city to the North Shore, and hang out all day at the practically-deserted beaches. Which is what we should have done last summer, really. But then I remembered how it’s a matter of 12 hours on a plane, and how much it drives me crazy to sit in one place for that long, and how I wanted to run screaming up and down the aisles of the plane, because I was thisclose to losing it, and we were still 3 hours from Hawaii, and Fred reminded me that it’ll only take a few hours to get to the Bahamas (which is where we’re going for our 10th anniversary), which is pretty, too. Just give me the ocean and a little patch of beach, and I’ll be happy, you know? But Hawaii sure is pretty… ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ At the beginning of February, I decided to try to read a book a day every day of February. It’s going pretty well – see my reading list here – and I’m pretty sure I’ll make my goal of 28 books in 28 days, but I don’t think I’m going to do the book-a-day thing again anytime soon. See, I like reading. I love books, and I like hanging out on the couch and reading, reading for a few hours before bed, for half an hour or so in the morning after I’ve taken my shower. But trying to cram in a book a day this month has made me cranky and impatient. I had a long run of really good books, but the books I’ve read in the past few days have had me muttering “Yeah, okay, GET ON WITH IT, quit your yammering about what the room looks like, and GIVE ME SOME ACTION.” I don’t want to be cranky and irritable – I love books! So like I said, I’m going to finish out the month (and cheat by reading the shortest books on my bookcase), but next year when I say “I’m going to read a book a day for the entire month of (whatever)”, remind me that I don’t really want to do that, wouldya? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I hate it when people hotlink, OH how I hate it. It’s another thing that makes me cranky and irritable, when I find that someone’s direct linking an image, and therefore they’re stealing bandwidth from me. Hey, my husband works hard so I can have my own domain. Why should I provide bandwidth for some cheeseball? Fucking bandwidth thieves. Hey, you know what would be kind of embarrassing? If you were so, so, so very cool. And you joined some badass ‘burb, like – just for example – the Go Fuck Yourself ‘burb. Or even if you didn’t join the ‘burb, you just saw an image you really liked. I don’t know. Maybe one like this: Only because you’re so, so, so cool, and also a badass, why would you bother saving the image to your own domain, or using one of the free image places, like tinypic? You’re so, so, so cool, and such a badass, that you have better things to do with your life. And that person who owns the site you’re stealing bandwidth from, she’ll never notice. And even if she did? She’d be impressed. Because you? So cool. So badass. She’d certainly never move images around and rename them so that instead of seeing the above image on your site you’d, instead, see this one: “Robyn,” you are whining. “This is unfair. Not everyone knows that hotlinking is bad! Not everyone knows that they shouldn’t steal bandwidth! You’re mean! I don’t like you! You suck!” To which I say only: Ignorance is not an excuse. And it sucks to be you. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Love to eat them mousies . . . Mousies what I love to eat! Bite they little heads off, Nibble on they tiny feet! ]]>