Author: Robyn

SURVIVOR SPOILERS BELOW – READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! Oh maaaaaaan. I’m no fan of Jenna Morasco, but I was crying right along with her last night (no one cries alone when I’m around!) and I felt SO bad for her, poor girl. I don’t know that that was necessarily “The most shocking 15 minutes of Survivor“, though. I knew immediately that the tribe with the Robs and Alicia (I can never remember tribe names!) was going to win the reward challenge and the Rupert/ Ethan/ Jerri/ Jenna tribe weren’t going to win a damn thing. I love Rupert, but he needs to ease back on the control freakishness. Bah-ston Rob can make fun of Alicia all he’d like, but the white rocks MADE the look of their new shelter. Hmph.]]>

here. If you’re part of the ‘burb, please change your links to reflect the new location – journals and blogs are listed alphabetically by name. I ended up taking down about 100 listings because they hadn’t been updated in months (sometimes more than a year!) or didn’t have a GFY link on their main or links page. If you’re supposed to be on the list and you’ve been removed, be sure you’ve updated at least once in the last two months and have a GFY graphic or text link somewhere on your main or links page, and email me to rejoin. I so rarely make the arbitrary deadlines I set for myself that I’m pleased as punch to have made this one.

* * * I believe that I mentioned yesterday or the day before that the DVR box had reached complete failure and all we could do was use the remote to change channels. We couldn’t even get the guide to come up, let alone record anything. The guy who came out Sunday was supposed to have a box with him but didn’t, and said someone would be out “Monday or Tuesday” with one. When no one showed up Monday, Fred called the service center and discovered that someone was scheduled to come to the house Tuesday between 5 and 8 pm. Which wouldn’t ordinarily be a problem except that the spud’s band had to play at a PTA meeting that night and we wouldn’t be home for at least part of that time. Fred rescheduled for Wednesday between 11 and 2, and so I was showered and presentable by 10, in case the cable guy showed up early. I waited and waited and waited, doing various and sundry chores around the house, reading on the couch, flipping channels in the living room. I thought about eating lunch at 1, but I knew that sure as anything the moment I sat down to eat lunch he’d show up. When he still hadn’t shown up by 2:15, I ate lunch quickly, and as I was finishing, he showed up. Do you suppose he had a DVR box on his truck? Why, no. No he did not. He told me that due to the high demand for the boxes only a few people were allowed to carry them on their trucks, and that furthermore, they (the cable guys and gals) weren’t allowed to have DVR boxes at home. This apparently bothered him a great deal, the not being allowed to have a DVR box (due to the high demand), because he went on to tell me that very same thing at least four times before the day was over. Sounds like corporate logic, to me – cable guys having to service DVRs when they don’t know anything at all about them. So he fiddle-farted around (as my mother would say), and got the box to FAIL and reboot for him, and after it rebooted the first time, it promptly rebooted itself twice more for no apparent reason, leading him to say “Well, let me check to be sure the signal’s coming through…”. The signal was coming through just fine (“Fives across the board”, whatever that means) and he spent ten minutes or so calling around to his boss and other cable guys in the area. It was determined that the closest cable guy with a box was on his way back to the office, and he’d meet the other cable guy (Tom) back at my house in about 45 minutes. Tom had two more jobs to do, so he decided he’d go do one of them and be back at the house in half an hour or 45 minutes. He left and I sat down at my desk to chat with Nance and my sister. It had been maybe ten minutes when I looked out the window and saw two cable vans coming down the street. I said goodbye to Nance and Debbie, and waited for them to come to the door. Ten minutes later, Tom finally knocked on the door, holding a DVR box. He went right into the living room and hooked it up, and we stood and watched, waiting for it to boot up and show us the magic. And waited and waited and waited. The box would half-boot, then flash “HDDF”, click, and turn off to start the whole shebang (“she bang! she bang!”) all over again. Tom called one guy, then another, then his boss, then a network specialist, and it was determined – guess what?! – the box was bad. Finally – FINALLY – Fred got home from work, and I introduced him to Tom and left the whole mess in his lap. Fred commented that if the third box didn’t work, we’d get a regular cable box from Tom and buy a damn TiVo. Tom didn’t seem to think that that was a bad idea at all. He located someone who was willing to bring another box to the house and left to do one of the other jobs he had lined up. Long story short – too late! – the third box works, and we have the magic of DVR in our house. I did manage to make the box freeze up and reboot last night, but it rebooted quickly and we didn’t have any problems after that. Thus far I’ve taped two episodes of The Newlyweds, an episode of Roseanne (I’m sorry, I just love that damn show to death), and this morning’s Ellen Degeneres Show. I was going to tape The O.C. last night but apparently you can only tape two shows at one time if you’re playing back a third, and I was more interested in taping The Newlyweds and watching The Bachelorette. I am LOVING the DVR. Just so you know. * * * The Bachelorette: Am I the only one who saw the look of frozen horror on Meredith’s face when Lanny’s Momma was talking about how she’d expect that Meredith would be a good christian girl and submit to her husband the way the bible said she should? Is anyone surprised that Lanny didn’t make it through to the next round? Because had it been ME, I would have held up my hand when Lanny’s Momma was going on and on and said “Yeah, I’m thinking this won’t work out. Lanny, you’re the hottest thing in jeans, but your Momma just got your ass kicked out. Buh-bye!”, and I would have run like hell. Did you notice the dead eyes on Lanny’s brother’s wife? When she said “Miz Lawrence likes to be involved in her sons’ lives”? Lordy. I’m sorry, but Lanny’s Momma creeped me out. Oh, and Ian! Am I the only one who laughed out loud when he said to his brother “I’ve never been emotional like this…”? Ha! American Idol: Can I call it, or can I call it? Glad to see Diana and Fantasia go on, but Fantasia sounds so very much like Macy Gray that it’s almost distracting. I did like that cute like Marque and that cute little Matthew, though. Survivor: Tonight! Whoo! * * * What the kitties are doing this very moment: Spot’s hanging out by the window in the master bedroom, watching traffic go by. Spanky, snoozing in the cat bed on the big bed. Miz Poo, trying to decide whether or not to smack that Bean. ]]>

* * * So, my favorite kind of pen ever is the Bic Clic Stic pen – NOT the Bic Stic, but the Bic CLIC Stic so that you don’t have to fool around with caps – and they’re hard as hell to find. I mean, Staples does carry them, but they carry the kind with the soft part where your fingers go so that you don’t end up with a permanent indention in your finger and I just can’t stand the pens with the soft part, they drive me nuts. You can find the Bic Clic Stic online, but they only seem to be available at promotional places, where you have pens personalized and then give them away to promote your company or cause. And while I think it would be cool to have a bunch of yellow pens with “Meh!” on them in black letters to send out to y’all and keep a bunch for me, you have to order at least 150 pens at most of those places, at 90 cents apiece, and can you imagine the speed at which Fred would kill me if I did something like that? So, no. No yellow pens with “Meh!” on them in black ink for us, folks. But I do keep my eyes peeled when I’m at the doctor’s office, because where do doctor’s offices get their pens? That’s right, from drug reps. And where do drug reps get their pens? That’s right, from companies that specialize in promotional items. Thus when I’m at the doctor’s office, I check out the pens they have sitting out in cups for patients to use to fill out forms or write checks or whatever. If there’s a Bic Clic Stic in that cup I so-very-casually reach out and grab it, then write out the check and when I’m done writing out the check I rip the check out of the checkbook and so-very-casually stick the pen in my wallet and put the whole kit and caboodle in my purse. And I do it while looking so very absentminded that if the front-desk/ receptionist chick were to say “Uh, that’s OUR pen, you sticky-fingered whore!”, I could easily put on a fake embarrassed face and say “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry!”, pull it out of my purse, and put it back in my cup. But that has never happened, and you know why? Because the people who work at the doctor’s office don’t give a good goddamn that I have taken their purple-and-white Levaquin� pen (for instance), because they have 63,000 other pens stuck away for the moment when someone says “Hey, the pen cup is empty! Hand me some pens, would you?”, and they fill the pen cup up and say to each other “I sure wish the patients would steal pens at a quicker pace, because we’re running out of room. Damn drug reps!” So anyway, a few weeks ago I went to the doctor’s office, and while I was there, I spotted a Bic Clic Stic pen, and I stole it – that’s right, folks, I plain-as-the-nose-on-your-face STOLE IT, and I should be locked up and the key should be tossed right OUT the damn window! – and then when I had to go back a few days later I spotted ANOTHER Bic Clic Stic pen, and I STOLE THAT ONE TOO, and the other night when Fred and I were laying in bed, I TOLD him that I had stolen the pens, and he was as horrified as if I had suggested that he stay up until 10:00. He was HORRIFIED, he was AGHAST, he could not believe that I would have the utter gall to STEAL a cheap plastic PEN from his beloved Dr. Judy, and none of my insistences that it was OKAY, that they EXPECTED people to steal pens, and that the doctor’s office didn’t PAY for the damn pens anyway, nothing I could say soothed his horror. I half-expected to wake up the next morning to find him gone, the hangers on his side of the closet swinging empty, but he seems to have repressed the horror of finding out that his wife STEALS cheap pens, so y’all don’t remind him, okay?

* * * American Idol: I really liked Diana (the first girl, in the pink and white) and Fantasia (the last girl) and hope they make it through to the next round. I also kind of liked Katie, but her song choice reminded me an awful lot of Ryan Starr singing that Frim-Fram Sauce song. I liked Marque because he is just the MOST adorable thing ever, but I have a feeling he won’t be making it through to the next round. I wanted to like Matthew, but his song did nothing for me. My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance: I am just really NOT liking Randi’s mother or her sister – hell, I’m not crazy about any of her siblings. The actors playing Steve’s family are just cracking me up, though. The Bachelorette: Tonight! Whee! * * * Ever since I bought this pillow, Miz Poo spends ALL day curled up on it, occasionally coming over to settle down between me and the keyboard to get a belly rub, then she goes back to her pillow. Have I mentioned that I LURVE this kitty? * * *]]>

Lindsey yesterday, saying that the “You’re shitting me, right?” look on her cat’s face was my favorite of all the cat pictures she sent (good way to get on my good side, folks. Send me cute ‘n funny pictures of your cats. I’m not even close to kidding. I love the kitties!), and I said “Someone needs to create a blog named You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!” That phrase always makes me laugh, because Fred had never heard it before I moved in with him (he heard it plenty AFTERward though, believe you me). The summer I was supposed to drive to Harrisburg, PA to hand the spud over to my sister (who would then take the spud back to Maine with her), I was almost there when my cell phone rang and I found out that my sister’s car had broken down right outside of New Yawk City. I called Fred and asked him to call my father while I found a place to stop, and when I found a place to stop, I called him back. “I know where you got ‘You gotta be shittin’ me’ from!” he said, that apparently being what my father said when Fred told him what was going on. Heh. They say it on The Shield all the time though, so apparently my father didn’t coin the phrase. Anyway, I think someone out there should start up a blog named “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me” and then post links to things that make them aghast and horrified. Actually, I told Fred that someone should start up a slam book-type blog called “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me” and then post rude things about other people. He said “That wouldn’t be very nice!” Heh. Nooooooo it wouldn’t. Mo made clam chowder and didn’t make any for me? You’ve GOTTA be shittin’ me! (Yeah, okay, that was lame. Bite me.) It’d be all fun and games ’til someone posted something like “Robyn thinks she looks good in that shirt? YOU’VE GOTTA BE SHITTIN’ ME! Have you seen the size of her ass?”, and then the fun would be OVAH.

* * * Did someone from Oswego, NY send me something? I got an envelope from the post office today letting me know that a big brown envelope addressed to me, from Oswego, NY had been found, empty. There’s a return address but no name, and there are very few of you who have my actual home address, so I can’t think of what it might be. I suppose as a last resort, I could send a letter to the address and ask, huh? * * * I thought briefly that the DVR had fixed itself yesterday. We turned it on, and the guide was present and accounted for. I set it to tape The Newlyweds on Wednesday night (shaddup), and then went to scroll down the list to see if there was anything interesting on later that night, and it froze up, flashed “Fail” on the box, and then rebooted itself. This happened twice, leading me to the decision to leave it the fuck alone, and then it spontaneously rebooted itself for no apparent reason. Damn you, DVR! I WANT to love you, but you’re toying with my emotions! * * * There’s some excitement with my parents. My father may have the chance to go to Hawaii for three months for work. When he told my mother, she told him she’d quit her job and go with him. She’s been a bit unhappy with her job lately and is probably looking for a reason to quit. I don’t think my father was expecting my mother to say she’d quit and go with him (“And you can come visit us there this summer!” my mother said to me); I’m sure he thought she’d visit for a few weeks, but would mostly stay home to hold down the fort. I got the distinct feeling that he’s kind of hoping the whole Hawaii thing doesn’t happen. We won’t know one way or the other for a little while, I guess, and if he does go, it’ll be starting the end of April. It would be cool to fly to Hawaii and visit for a week or so, but even if it doesn’t happen, I’ve made Fred promise me that we could go to Hawaii for our 10th anniversary. That gives us 4 1/2 years to save up for a kick-ass vacation. Now it’s just a matter of holding him to it… * * * Pet store kitties are here. * * * I have no And3rson kitty pictures for you today, but here! Look at this picture of Popham Beach and think about the fact that summer is FOREVER away. Grrr. ]]>

proof that there was no wardrobe snafu involved in that whole Jan3t Jacks0n b00bie brouhaha. Yeah, I know you’re sick of hearing about it, but how could I not share the link? Also, if it’s true that she was uninvited from the Grammys and Justin wasn’t, that really pisses me off.

* * * I was reading journals this morning while putting off going upstairs to clean the litter box, and this made me laugh out loud: I just typed “Massachusetts,” which always makes me think of Anthony Heald playing a judge on The Practice. He spits out the word “Massachusetts” as though it were shit marinated in vinegar. I totally remember watching that episode with Fred and how hard we laughed every time he said “Massachusetts.” Glad to see I’m not the only one who remembers! I haven’t watched The Practice regularly in about two years, though I caught a few episodes last year. I thought I might take it up again since we got the DVR last week, but we’ve been having problems with the damn thing and I’m not willing to go through the effort of finding a blank tape and setting the VCR, so I guess that’ll have to wait. Speaking of the DVR, I did what Texas Peach suggested in my comments on Friday (disconnect the power plug in the back for 5 minutes, plug it back in and let it cycle through) and when I turned it back on, the guide was back up and I taped the 20/20 about rich kids that night, but the next morning the guide was gone again. Fred called the cable company, they had him do a few things and then decided it was a problem with the box. They told him someone would be here between 11 and 2 on Sunday (I had no idea cable guys had to work on the weekend!) with a new box. The guy showed up, but hadn’t brought a box with him. He did some stuff outside trying to figure it out, but nothing. He left, after telling Fred that “someone will be out with a new box on Tuesday or Wednesday.” Hey, thanks for narrowing it down, guy. Grrr. * * * I don’t believe I mentioned that the Bean has tapeworms. This would explain, I suppose, why that fat, round little belly he developed not long after we adopted him went away so quickly, and he stayed skinny despite his tendency to eat everything in sight. Naturally we’ll have to have all the other cats checked out. I’m pretty sure at least one of the vet’s kids is being put through college by us personally. (Though in the interest of full disclosure I don’t know that he has kids, or that they’re in college) After we found out that the Bean had tapeworms, I joked to Fred that I needed to get me one o’ them. Fred said “Oh, good idea. You should lick his ass!” Ugh. Then I made the mistake of mentioning that I had read somewhere that if you put a bowl of warm milk under your butt, the tapeworm would smell it and crawl out. Fred laughed until he almost passed out. But it turns out that although I had the wrong end, I really had read the idea somewhere. From Bridget Jones’s Diary: Saturday 22 April 8st 7, cigarettes, 0, alcohol units, 0, calories 1800. Today is an historic and joyous day. After eighteen years of trying to get down to 8st 7 I have finally achieved it. It is no trick of the scales, but confirmed by jeans. I am thin. There is no reliable explanation. I have been to the gym twice in the last week, but that, though rare, is not freakish. I have eaten normally. It is a miracle. Rang Tom, who said maybe I have a tapeworm. The way to get rid of it, he said, is to hold a bowl of warm milk and a pencil in front of my mouth. (Tapeworms love warm milk, apparently. They love it.) Open my mouth. Then, when the worm’s head appears, wrap it carefully round the pencil. ‘Listen’, I told him, ‘this tapeworm is staying.’ I love my new tapeworm. Not only am I thin, but I no longer want to smoke or glug wine (p105). You just never know what’s going to stick in your mind, do you? * * * I can’t believe there are only two episodes of Sex and the City left. Wah! And only six episodes of Friends. Double wah! (For the record, I think Carrie should end up with Petrovsky and not Big, because he’s been straightforward and honest with her from the beginning, and he clearly wants to be with her. He’s not as much fun as Big, but he definitely has a certain charm. But then, I’ve always had a crush on Baryshnikov, ever since I took ballet lessons as a kid (this is where Fred would start singing the opening bars of “No Rain“.)) My pain is only slightly assuaged by the fact that The Sopranos premieres on March 7th, and The Shield on March 9th. * * * We have this toy, a stick with feathers attached at one end, that Miz Poo seems to have adopted. She carries the damn thing around with her, from one end of the house to the other, making a very loud keening sound the entire time. She’ll walk into the room with it in her mouth, making that noise, then drop it on the floor and look expectantly at us. I have no idea what she wants us to do, but cries of “Aren’t you a smart Poo!” just leave her staring at us blankly. Maybe she wants us to pick up the toy and admire it – we’ve taken to calling it her “baby.” * * * A few years ago I put up a picture of the church in downtown Lisb0n Falls that has been converted into a house. It’s been fixed up some since then. I still think it’s the coolest thing ever, to have a former church as a house. And the crappy house on Goddard Street where Debbie and the kids and I lived together for a few years. It’s the gold building, and it doesn’t look like time has improved the condition any. A sunset in Portland. I noticed that the sunsets in Maine tend to have more gold and yellows, whereas the ones we see from our back yard have more pinks. I wonder what the difference is? More pollution? The Bean plays shy. Spanky checks out the situation. My dad took this picture of Gizmo when they were visiting Tracy and Kate last Fall. Awwww, love the kitty! ]]>

Survivor last night on The Early Show. Then I decided to set up to tape The Ellen Degeneres Show, and decided while I was at it, I’d set up to tape ALL of them, and then the DVR locked up and I couldn’t get it to do anything, and instead of waiting to see if it would un-lock itself, I thought “Hey! I’ll just turn it off and then back on! It works with my computer!”, and so I turned it off and back on, and now? Now I’m getting “No data” at the bottom of the screen now and I can’t record anything, goddamnit. Just call me a fuckwad.

* * * You know, there’s a certain time of the month when a gal is a bit – shall we say – gassier than at other times of the month. If she’s eaten pizza on top of it being a naturally gassy time of the month, then the gas that is produced is so toxic that it’s almost visible. For some reason, it is often at bedtime that said gal most often produces said gas, and at “that” time of the month the husband of this completely fictional woman is sometimes forced to run to his own bedroom to defend his nose hairs from being singed off by the stank produced. But just because the husband of Fictional Woman is tired at 9:30 does not mean that Fictional Woman is tired as well, and perhaps she likes to lay in bed with cats arranged on the bed around her while she reads, occasionally bleeding the valve. The cats, interestingly, are not repelled by the gas, instead they are fascinated and will occasionally sit up and sniff wildly at the clouds of stank wafting gently by their noses. The fictional child of Fictional Woman often likes to come to the door of Fictional Woman’s bedroom to say goodnight. At “that” time of the month, Fictional Child has been known to stop at the door and make a face. Fictional Woman looks up from her book. “What?” “Do you smell that?” Fictional Child says as a cloud of stank floats out the door. Fictional Woman knows of what Fictional Child is speaking, but believes she can brazen it out. “No, what?” she says. “It smells like…” Fictional Child sniffs wildly at the air, resembling the wildly sniffing cats more than a little. “POOP!” “Oh,” Fictional Woman says. “Fred’s been a little gassy tonight.” And then Fictional Woman and Fictional Child share an Isn’t he DISGUSTING? look, and bid each other goodnight. * * * Did you know that squirrels (at least here in the South), when given peanuts, don’t go store them in hollows of trees? That they actually bury them in the YARD? It’s the coolest thing, I swear. We buy peanuts and put them in the back yard under the bird feeders, and yesterday a squirrel spent a good hour burying them in various places in the yard. It was neat to see him start digging a hole and then pick up the peanut, measure the size with his mouth and front paws, and dig some more, put the peanut in the hole, and bury it. Squirrels are awfully neat. (At least that’s my opinion until one gets in the house…) * * * We watched Extreme Makeover last night, and it was awesome. It was a couple who (I think this is what I heard) met at Overeater’s Anonymous and had each lost over 100 pounds. They both went in for some major surgery and didn’t see each other for 7 weeks, until their WEDDING DAY. They looked amazing, especially him. She didn’t look half bad, either – but then, I thought she looked fine before, so what do I know? I felt sorry for them during the time apart, though – they were obviously both pretty miserable. That just had to suck. * * * 1. What’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done? Packed up my eight year-old daughter and moved to Alabama to live with a man I’d known for only a few months and spent less than two weeks with in person. Crazy! 2. What one thing would you like to try that your mother/friend/significant other would never approve of? Fred’s pretty adventurous, I can’t think of anything I’d want to try he wouldn’t be willing to let me try. Heh. 3. On a scale of 1-10, what’s your risk factor? (1=never take risks, 10=it’s a lifestyle) Probably between a 1 and a 2. 4. What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you as a result of being bold/risky? The moving-to-Alabama thing worked out really damn well, I’d say. 5. … and what’s the worst? Um. The fact that I live in Alabama, maybe? It’s worth it, though. * * * Another series of really good cat pictures, taken by Fred. Fred giggles like a little girl every time he gets one of these really good pictures, by the way. Big cat in the little bed… ]]>

SURVIVOR SPOILERS BELOW, SKIP IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN LAST NIGHT’S SHOW YET! It sucks ASS that Rudy got voted off last night, but I wasn’t surprised. I knew that the way he was limping around that if his tribe went to Tribal Council, he’d be the one gone. I was surprised to see Jerri crying, though. Fred still hates Jerri and Shii Ann. Not one to forgive and forget, that one. I’m so glad they blur Rich’s ass when he runs around naked, by the way. That’s for sure a sight America doesn’t need to see. He’s definitely same ol’ Rich! GO Rupert, with the catching of the fish! I loved the look on Ethan’s face when Rupert walked up with the fish after he (Ethan) had been fishing and had no luck. When Ethan said at Tribal Council, “And then we caught the fish…”, I turned to Fred and said “What’s this “we”, Kemosabe?” Heh. Damn I love that show. Edited to add: Jenna L.? VERY annoying. Very, very. Edited again to add: I told Fred that if the tribes couldn’t figure out how to make fire, the producers would end up stepping in to help out, and I guarantee you, that’s what that reward challenge was about.]]>

The Bachelorette last night (we watched American Idol) and I managed to fuck it up and miss the first ten minutes or so of the show. Which is all that cute little Kelly Jo was apparently in, so I only got to see about ten seconds of her trying to explain something to the way-too-talkative Ryan. I was glad to see Ian and Lanny make it into the final four, but if Ian wants to go any further, he’d better start opening up. Also glad to see Ryan gone – that boy talked WAY TOO MUCH and he was too needy to boot. Cute guy, but he needs to calm down a tad. On American Idol last night, I was glad to see the pen salesman go through, as well as that cute little redhead – John Stevens? Something like that – and the girl whose name I cannot remember. She was in the group with Scooter Girl and she had purple (red?) dyed hair. To me, she looked JUST like Betty Boop, so now that’s what Fred and I call her. (Oh look, here she is! Amy Adams. Funny thing is that I had sucked it up and was going to go through all the contestants to find her and she was the first one!) I cannot believe that damn Lisa Wilson made it through, though. I liked her when she auditioned, but that whole blowing off working to hang out in the pool with that annoying guy (he didn’t make it through, did he? I hope not!) just got on my last nerve. Clearly I’m getting very old and crochety, when seeing kids partying instead of working for what they want pisses me off.

* * * I rented and watched Thirteen last week, and believe you me, folks, I gave a quick prayer of thanks at the end of the movie that the spud has never – and I’m willing to bet never will – put me through anything like that. Speaking of the spud, I turned on her computer to check her chat logs (don’t even look at me like that. She knows there’s no such thing as privacy on her computer when it comes to chatting and never will be as long as she’s young and dumb). I scrolled through the names, recognizing most of them (she does most of her chatting with me, her cousin Brian, my sister, my parents, and a few friends from school). I came to one I didn’t recognize and opened the log, figuring it was going to be a friend from school whose nickname I didn’t recognize. It was a 19 year-old guy from India, and what was the spud’s response? I DON’T KNOW YOU, I CAN’T CHAT WITH YOU, PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE. Cracked me up, it did. The guy responded with “Y?”, but she ignored him and he went away. Good spud. * * * Okay, it’s a crappy, windy, cold, rainy day, and I want to go sit on the couch in front of the fire and read and wait for the cable guy to show up, so I’ll toss up a bunch of Bean pics and call it an entry. Bitchy Bean. Nosy Bean. Sleepy Bean. “What the hell’s going ON?” Bean. Yawning Bean. Yawn-and-stretch Bean. Cute-n-cuddly Bean. Love-the-daddy Bean. Nighty-night Bean. (All pictures taken by Fred, who will complain if I don’t credit him.) ]]>

There goes another sign of Tubby, gone… and got teary-eyed. At bedtime, I was standing in the bathroom brushing my teeth, and Spot jumped up on the side of the bathtub and gave me his worried Momma, I can see a little piece of the bottom of the food bowl, are you going to let us STARVE to death? look, and so while I was brushing my teeth I got a scoop of cat food out of the covered garbage can in the closet, and I dumped the food into the bowl, and after tossing the scoop back into the garbage can I closed the closet door and then pushed the bathroom door open so that when Tubby came hauling ass into the bathroom to partake of the fresh food, he wouldn’t hit his head. And then I remembered, and I had to shut the bathroom door so that Fred, who was laying in bed reading, wouldn’t be subjected to the horrible sight of my cry face, and I cried and thought Tubby will never haul ass through that door, heading straight for the food and knocking everything and everyone out of his way, ever again. Then later, when we were laying in bed, I told Fred about how little things remind me anew of our loss strike me when I’m least expecting it, and I cried again. (But it was okay, because it was dark and he couldn’t see my horrendous cry face) And while we were laying there, the spud knocked on the door and said “Would you like to say goodnight to Tubby?”, and I cringed, because I thought it was a slip of the tongue, that she’d meant to say “Would you like to say goodnight to Miz Poo?” before she went back to her room, Miz Poo in tow. But it turned out that she was standing in the doorway holding the box that contains Tubby’s ashes and asking us if we wanted to say goodnight to them. So Fred and I each said “Goodnight, Tubby.” The spud went back to her room and shut the door. Fred whispered in my ear, “She is SO WEIRD sometimes!”, and I couldn’t help but agree, and then we giggled for several minutes.

* * * Today was a particularly busy day – in fact, this has been a particularly busy week – and I actually had to drag my ass out of bed at 6:00 so that I could exercise before I left for my 8:15 doctor appointment. I left a few minutes early and stopped by the post office to check the box, and found no less than SIX condolence cards from you crazy, wonderful people – thank you so much! I spent about an hour at the doctor’s office, then had to run to the other side of town to make a deposit at the bank, then ran home for about fifteen minutes to eat breakfast. That done, I had an appointment for a cut and color (one originally scheduled for last Wednesday, but I just knew that if I went in that day, Bev would smile and say “So, what’s been going on?”, and I would say “Oh, well, my ca-a-a-a-t die-ie-ie-ie-ied,” and start crying, and I would expose her to my horrible cry face and she’d have to go on disability, so I rescheduled for this week), so I ran out the door later than I’d intended to leave, but I got there only about two minutes late, and I’m usually more like 5 minutes late, so it was all good. I had my hair colored and cut and pouffed – I am aghast at the horror that is Helmet Head. This is what my hair looks like when it is curled under. This is why I do not curl my hair under when left to my own devices. and an hour and a half later I was on my way. To Sam’s, where I got caught in a time warp and what felt like ten minutes was actually an hour, but hey – I got a copy of The South Beach Diet (shaddup) for less than fifteen bucks, and I got 120 miniature gladiolus bulbs for less than fifteen bucks also, so it’s all good. A run by Target for a crate of clementines (where I saw a woman who was a dead ringer for Jane eating sushi), a stop by Wendy’s for a grilled chicken sandwich, and I was home by 1:30. Tomorrow’s going to be the first day I don’t have any appointments or errands to run, and I just may take advantage of the free time to clean the master bathroom. But then again, I may just sit on my ass and read. Who knows? * * * The spud took a pretty good picture of the Bean last week, so I made her send it to me. The yawningest cat that ever did live. * * * Interesting article, this. ]]>

up. Just one new kitty, but she was a cutie!

* * * Also finally – FINALLY – there’s a new cat movie up. This one stars the Bean (of course!). I call it “Mother, why must you torture me so by pointing that goddamn thing at me?” You’ll want to have your volume turned up so you can hear his sweet little voice.
Mister Boogers from Robyn Anderson on Vimeo. * * * We got a package in the mail from the wonderful Amy, who sent us some reminders of Tubby (warning – Tubby pictures below!): I’m going to put this on Fred’s desk. The spud claimed this one for herself. Damn kids! This one’s going up on the wall by my monitor so I can see his goofy little face whenever I want! Amy rocks, as do you all! * * * I mentioned yesterday (I think I mentioned it, anyway) that Fred got a new laptop on Friday. I got a little something too, something I’ve been wanting for a while, and in fact had decided I would start saving for, when Fred decided that if he was going to get a laptop, I should get something, too. (God I love that man!) What did I get? A 17″ LCD monitor! This one, to be exact. And I LOVE it. Strictly speaking, it’s the same screen size as my old monitor, but there’s more viewing room yet the monitor takes up a LOT less space on my desk. Did I mention that I love it, and it rocks? What did you THINK I was going to do with all that space on my desk? Cat pillow, of course! Miz Poo loves to sleep there, with her head by one of my speakers, and earlier when I was making the Bean movie, she kept staring at the speaker when she heard him meowing. Cute! If you look over in the corner by the smiley-face stuff, behind all the cameras, you’ll see the cool smiley-face cup and vanilla wafter cookie-scented candle Say sent me. I’ve sniffed the candle so often because it smells so good that I think I’ve killed off a few brain cells. Say also rocks. * * * I woke this morning at 3:45ish with a full bladder. After laying there for a few minutes hoping it would go away, I decided to get up and stumble to the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, stretching my “bad” (ie, plantar fasciitis-inflicted) foot so that it wouldn’t hurt when I stepped down on it. It suddenly came to my attention that there was a shadow in the doorway that I hadn’t noticed when I sat up, and as I turned my head to the side, I heard “Hey.” Which is when I realized that it was Fred, but my brain was already on the jump-and-scream track and to try to derail it would have meant certain disaster. So I jumped and screamed, slapping my hand to my chest and saying “Oh my GOD, you startled me!”, whereupon, of course, Fred laughed his ass off. Bastard. Oddly, I’ve had a couple of scary someone’s in the house dreams lately, ones that I wake from with my heart pounding and my eyes wide. I always dig an earplug from my ear and listen intently, look at the cats to make sure they’re not freaked out, and eventually fall back into an uneasy sleep. Of course, they don’t freak me out enough so that I attempt to sleep without earplugs, or even load the gun and put it under the pillow next to me, so I guess it can’t be freaking me out too much. I’ve begun sleeping very lightly, without earplugs, and my hand on a loaded gun at all times. Also, I’m a very good shot, even in the dark without my contacts in. Stalkers, beware! I think that Fred just likes to scare the hell out of me. I was sitting in front of my computer yesterday, under the impression that I was alone in the computer room, when his voice suddenly came from directly behind me, making me jump and scream. “I WISH YOU WOULDN’T SNEAK UP ON ME!” I yelled at him. He claimed that he wasn’t TRYING to sneak up on me, that he’s naturally a quiet walker, or something like that. Lies, all lies. Did I mention that he’s a bastard? * * * How can this possibly be comfortable? She is Poo, hear her roar. Miz Poo dug herself a nest in the blanket Nance gave me, and spent all day Sunday curled up there. I love this kitty. ]]>