Author: Robyn

that hair cut looks like crap, why do you let your husband go on day trips with your daughter, are you out of your mind… you’d better get back on track with the weight loss honey or keep looking over your shoulder. Get a CLUE! First of all, that’s a rather sad and pathetic little life you have, isn’t it? Secondly, you would be the one who needs to get a CLUE! (not a clue, but a CLUE!) My husband – perhaps you’ve heard of him – is a computer geek who specializes in computer security. So, Jackie, how’s the weather up there in Vancouver Washington? And what would your deceased father – the retired Navy man – think of you posting such a cowardly, anonymous, ugly comment? PS: You really should consider getting an unlisted number. It would probably cut down on all those pesky “wrong number” calls.

* * * And also, for anyone else who immediately thought “Sandra!” when they saw that, alack and alas, there are two separate assholes who feel the need to post in comments. Sandra’s on AOL. Jackie is not. Also, she has an Angelfire email address. * * * Speaking of my comments, someone – hi Kerry Anne! – posted and pointed out that the tiles we put in the box that holds the litter box are the same tiles she currently has in her bathroom, and that she picked them out herself. I have to say, when I first saw the tiles, I liked the pattern, too. In fact, I suggested to Fred that we rip up the floor in our kitchen and replace it with those tiles (I HATE the floor in our kitchen. Hate it!). He wouldn’t go for it, though. Hmph. Also, Rachael asked what I thought of Average Joe, which premiered on Monday night. We taped it and watched it Tuesday night, and the verdict so far? I love it! I don’t know, watching gorgeous model guys cavort around the pool is fun, but watching dorky average guys is even more fun somehow. I was a little annoyed at first by Melana – “She needs to shut up!” I said to Fred. “She’s cute, but she’s NOT all that. She’s no Trista!” – but as the show went on, I started to like her a little. It’s a little early to have any favorite guys, but that little Tareq sure is a cutie. Too young, though. If you’re interested in seeing Average Joe and missed it on Monday, they’re rebroadcasting it at 9 pm eastern time. * * * POSSIBLE THE BACHELOR SPOILERS IN THIS SECTION!! Was I shocked to see Mary go? Not at all; I expected her to go last week. I love the way she handled it all, though, because that kind of calm dignity you don’t see a lot on that show. I still expect to see Kelly Jo win, but if he chooses Estella, I still think he’s got one hell of a girl. That would be true if he’d ended up with Mary or Meredith too, for that matter. Also, every time Bob is kissing one of the women and he pulls back, he always looks like he’s going to giggle. Or is it just me? * * * Thanks, y’all, for all your kind comments about my hair. I just got out of the shower, and I already like it more than I did yesterday, because my hair’s doing the little flippy thing, which I like. I was playing with it last night, and although it’s much shorter than I’ve had it in years, I can still pull the top back or put barrettes in the side (must steal barrettes from the spud) or do any number of things. Not that I will, mind you. But I could if I wanted to! * * * I think the Bean has a little crush. He spends the majority of his time in the same room with Miz Poo, if not laying right next to her. They fight a lot and Miz Poo hisses and growls, but I think she really likes it more than she’s willing to let on. She cannot resist his Beaniness.]]>

Wolves of the Calla (aka: Dark Tower 5), using coupons I’ve earned by buying other books from Waldenbooks. Since I have more than enough in coupons to buy the book I want, I’ve offered to buy something for Fred as well. He’s given me a list of books, none of which Waldenbooks carries in stock, those bastards. I finally give up on Fred’s book and just buy Wolves of the Calla. When I’m in the car, I take the book out of the bag to see how many pages it has (736!), and find a bookmark in the front of the book. It’s priced $3.50, but when I look at the sales receipt, I see that I didn’t pay for it. I have no idea how it got there. As a plus, it’s a cat, and thus clearly a sign. What kind of sign, I have no idea. Drive from the mall to Sam’s Club. Wander around Sam’s Club and buy: napkins, paper towels, gum, Splenda, mini babybels, and large padded envelopes for multi-book orders. Look at the book section and see that it appears that Sam’s Club is selling Wolves of the Calla for the full $35. I got it for 25% off, plus another 10% off for having a preferred member card. Go, me! Drive from Sam’s Club to the pet store and check out the kitties (that damn little Blacktoe is still there, and I am seized again with the urge to stick her in my purse and sneak her home. She’s so small Fred would never notice, right?). Walk around the store, telling myself that our cats do NOT need a Panic Mouse, especially for THAT price. Inspect litter boxes before deciding which will work for us (one the size of the sweater boxes we’ve been using, only a bit shallower), buy a Comfort Zone (with Feliway!) plug-in as well. Also, grab a small bag of rattly toy mice, since they seem to be disappearing at an alarming rate. While checking out, chat with cashier, who somehow remembers me from last week when I bought a big container of Nature’s Miracle. “Is this for the same problem?” she asks. “Is your cat still peeing outside the box?” Be surprised that she remembers me. Chat for a few minutes about our cats (she has five cats, too!) and then leave. Get home, unload all the crap from the car, check orders, and finally (I’m starving!) have lunch. After eating lunch, check email, and then settle in to process book orders, which is a somewhat laborious process. Processing the books goes like this: Print out a packing slip for each person on the Paypal page – and you can only do one person at a time, you can’t print out several different people, unfortunately. Go through and match each packing slip to the email I got notifying me of the order for that person. Go into Quickbooks and begin an invoice, listing each person on a separate line, then the Paypal charge after each person. Check for referral codes, and if any of the orders has a non-OFB, BP, or VIT referral, enter the referral in the Excel spreadsheet. Open Stamps.com and begin printing out postage for each order. While each person’s postage is printing, email to let them know that their book will be shipping within 24 hours. Once the postage is printed, get correct number of books and envelopes. Check each packing slip to see if a signature is required. If not, put book and packing slip in envelope, tape flap shut, and tape postage to the front of the package. If a signature is requested, stick packing slip in front of book, tape postage to front of envelope, and leave on Fred’s desk. Between that and having to make dinner, I think that pretty well explains why there was no entry, don’t you? I have to admit that I kinda like the busy days, although I’m glad they don’t come along all that often.

* * * My sister, who is insane, has already started her Christmas shopping. Crazy, CRAZY woman. * * * If you’re on the notify list, you know that I had an appointment for a cut and color this morning. If you’re not on the notify list, well, now you know! I showed up at the salon on time (for once), and B3v looked at my hair and said, with less disapproval than I would have expected, “Did you color your hair yourself?” Whereupon I cringed and lied about how busy I’d been, and that coloring my hair at home was only a temporary measure until I could get it “done right.” When I told her I was ready for a change, she got briefly excited at the idea that I was going to change the color that I usually get, and then we discussed how I wanted my hair cut. “Your ends are pretty damaged,” she said. “I’d like to cut a few inches off.” And we settled on having it cut to the shoulder. And then she chopped and chopped and chopped and chopped. (Yeah, I’m aware that I look like I’m about to flip out and go on a shooting spree) I don’t know if I like it or not. I know it looks helmet-y, because she always blows my hair out straight (though at the moment, my hair is rebelling, and I have a bit of a flip going on in the back). I go back and forth between liking it and hating it. We’ll see what happens when I style it myself. But damn, y’all don’t let me grow my hair out to one length again, please. She ended up taking about 4 inches off the back and 8 in the front (for the bangs), and my hair actually feels somewhat healthy again. * * * So after deciding that Tubby might be having a problem getting into the litter box due to the setup and possibly the deepness of the current litter box, Fred did some brainstorming and came up with the idea of buying a big box at U-Hawl (yes, I know that’s not how it’s spelled) and lining the inside of it with cheap stick-on tiles that he bought at L0we’s, and closing any gaps with duct tape. He did all that yesterday, and – well – it’s not pretty, but it’s functional. * * * You know, I keep meaning to mention this. Stanley will play-attack any of the cats, but he seems to prefer Miz Poo. And frankly, I think that Miz Poo kind of likes it, too. A year ago: How freaky is it that I had a hair appointment exactly a year ago? Two: is there anything cuter than a hissing kitten? I think not. Four: What will I talk about next, dryer lint? Woohoo, somebody stop me!]]>

Bitchypoo logo for November – this one by the lovely and talented Kathleen!

* * * I have a bunch of links for y’all today, but don’t forget to come back when you’ve checked them all out! If you live in the Austin, Texas area and would be interested in a cute, fat calico cat, check out this page. Also, there are still kittens available here, if you’re in the Lubbock, Texas area. I have new crafty stuff up on Not Terribly Crafty. Pet store kitties are here. Fred’s just signed a contract with a national distributor, which means that in some number of weeks his book will be available in a bookstore near you. In the interest of making room, he’s put the book on sale. If you live in the US, you can get a copy of the book for $11, and no shipping. Go here for more details or to order (that price is only if you order through us, though – Amazon still charges the full price). * * * The Tubby Pee Situation continues. When Tubby peed again Friday near where he’d peed Thursday, we decided that maybe he did need to go to the vet. The vet wasn’t able to get a urine sample, but gave us the medicine to treat a UTI, just in case. When Fred and the spud were watching a movie Saturday afternoon, Tubby came downstairs and stood near the kitchen, meowing bitchily. I went to see what he was bitching about, and he turned and stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked expectantly at me. “You’d better follow him,” I said to Fred. “He’s trying to tell us something. Maybe Timmy’s trapped in the well!” Fred followed Tubby upstairs, and Tubby just looked at him and meowed bitchily again. Fred picked Tubby up and put him in the litter box, and Tubby peed a gallon of pee before going back to lay in his usual spot under my dresser. After much discussion, Fred and I decided that perhaps Tubby is getting too fat to get in the litter box comfortably. Not that the litter box is too small, but if you’ll recall (or refer to your Bitchypoo Manual), the litter box sits in a larger box, since Spanky has the habit of peeing over the side of the litter box. There’s a hole cut in the box that the litter box is sitting in, and there’s not a lot of room to get through the hole and then up over the side of the litter box for a fatass like Tubby. (Yeah, I know – pot, kettle, black.) At regular intervals for the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday, Fred picked up Tubby and set him in the litter box. It’s kind of like potty training a toddler, where you put them on the potty and sometimes they happen to have to go at that particular time and you make a big fuss (“Good, Tubby! Good GOOD Tubby!”), and sometimes they don’t have to at all and they just look at you with a blank face. We’re currently working on a way to make it easier for Tubby to get to the litter box while still protecting the wall from Spanky’s pee. Fun times, folks. Fun FUN times. * * * Last night after watching 10-8, Fred and I decided to go upstairs and read until bedtime. As Fred went to turn the TV off, an advertisement for some interview or another with Jessica Lynch came on. “Jessica Lynch!” I said. “Isn’t she the only POW we’ve ever had in all of history?” Fred smiled. “Yes. Yes, she is! And I think Todd Beamer rescued her!” * * * Put something on the counter, and chances are good that a portly Poo will come along to sit upon it. Looking beany. And even beanier. A year ago: Obviously that’s made a big impact on my life. Two: I don’t want to hate the carpet on my stairs Four: Like sit on my lazy ass.]]>

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, BABY! I LOVE YOU!!!

* * * THIS SECTION CONTAINS SURVIVOR SPOILERS FOR LAST NIGHT’S SHOW!!! Okay, HOW FUCKING COOL WAS THAT??? I thought Drake and Morgan were going to shit when they saw the Outcasts appear. TOO FUCKING COOL!! I was immediately rooting for them to win, and was THRILLED when they did. And I’m not particularly a fan of any of the Outcasts, although I like Lillian and Skinny Ryan, I guess I just tend to pull for the underdog. Andrew needs to GET the fuck over himself, though. What was that shit he was spouting, about how none of the outcasts deserve to be on “this beach”? Tell me exactly why Lillian was voted off? Oh yeah, because she lost the popularity contest to Mush Mouth – I’m remembering that correctly, aren’t I? Wasn’t it a matter of Lillian, who worked her ass off constantly, versus Mush Mouth, who sat around and looks pretty until she opens her mouth? Best. Twist. EVER. Also, I love that Andrew was all “Well, we’re just going to vote whoever comes back out at the first opportunity!” until someone (Ryan?) said “No, they’re immune at the first tribal council after they’re back.” HA! I was SO glad to see Osten go, because this whole “I’m ready to go!” thing he’s been doing since, like, day 2 was seriously getting on my nerves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jeff Probst get so pissed at seeing someone give up. I think Jeff’s forgetting B.B. from Pulau Tiga, who asked to be voted out, and I’m pretty sure I remember Jenna asking to go at some point last season, didn’t she? Fucking Osten. What a wimp. I take exception with Jon referring to himself as “loyal” to Drake, especially after he tried to vote Rupert off last week. Jon is amazingly annoying and I cannot believe he’s made it this far. I fear for Rupert once the tribes merge (if they merge!). He’s clearly the strongest one out there, and they’re going to be gunning for his ass immediately. He’s going to need to win every single immunity challenge to make it to the end, I think. (If you comment on Survivor in the comments, please put SURVIVOR SPOILER at the top of your comment so as not to spoil it for anyone who hasn’t seen the show yet. Thanks!) * * * When Fred got home from work yesterday, he and I headed upstairs to lay down and talk about our day. As usual, Fred stripped down to his t-shirt and underwear, and then shut the bedroom door in case the spud came to ask or tell us something, and was scarred for life by seeing him in his underwear. (Or something hanging out of his underwear – he wears fairly loose underwear. In case you were wondering.) We lolled about on the bed and talked about various and sundry things, and then we heard the sound of a cat scratching at something. Fred turned to look at Tubby, who was scratching at a pillow propped up against the wall. He got up and moved the pillow out of the way, and then I heard it. The sound of rushing water. Rushing as it left Tubby’s bladder and splattered all over the wall and floor. I wanted to fucking drop-kick him across the floor, because even with me yelling at him, he just squatted there and peed for a long, long time. The fucker must have had a gallon of stinky cat pee in his stinky cat bladder. Certain that if I stayed in the room I would end up killing Tubby, I stomped downstairs and let Fred deal with it. After looking, I realized that I had used the rest of the container of Nature’s Miracle EARLIER THIS GODDAMN WEEK WHEN TUBBY PEED ON THE CLOTHES THAT WERE LAYING ON THE FLOOR IN THE CLOSET. Don’t be emailing or commenting and telling me to take Tubby to the vet. He goes through random stages where if we leave something on the floor, he pees on it. He’s always done it, and the vet can find nothing wrong with his stupid ass. We can go for months and months with him not doing it, and then all of a fucking sudden he does it a few times. Asshole. So I grabbed the spud and we went to the pet store to buy some Nature’s Miracle – a big jug along with a spray bottle – and when I got home I poured an assload of the stuff where Tubby had peed, and I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD IF HE DOES IT ONE MORE TIME I’M GOING TO DROP KICK HIM, JESUS, THROUGH THE GOAL-POSTS OF LIFE. I hate Tubby. I HATE HIM. And I don’t mean that I hate him in the way that people SAY they hate a cat when secretly they adore it. HATE. HIM. Don’t try to tell me I don’t hate him, because I really and truly do. I can admit that he’s amusing sometimes, but he’s never amused me so much that I can forgive his peeing a fucking gallon of stinky cat pee not three feet from my BED. Asshole. * * * 1. What was your first Halloween costume? I don’t know what my first costume was, but the first one I can remember is my witch costume. I think I was a witch for several years in a row. 2. What was your best costume and why? Oh, probably the witch costume. Although, my Sophomore year of high school, I painted my face green and black with greasepaint and wore a camouflage chamois shirt. I got sent home by the vice principal – who continues to be a dickhead to this day, I’m sure – to wash my face because it was “distracting to the other students.” Horseshit. 3. Did you ever play a trick on someone who didn’t give you a treat? Nope, never. 4. Do you have any Halloween traditions? (ie: Family pumpkin carving, special dinner before trick or treating, etc.) Not really. 5. Share your favorite scary story…real or legend! I like the one about the couple who were making out at Lover’s Lane and heard the story on the radio about the escaped criminal with a hook for a hand, and the girl got scared, so they left. When they got to the girl’s house, hanging on her door handle was… A HOOK!!! I have no idea why I like that story so much, but I do. * * * In the interest of clearing out my memory stick, I’m going to post a buttload of pictures so that I can start November anew. I’m a bean. I’m a bean! I’m a bean-beanie-bean! He’s a lip-licking fool. I love the way the fur around his mouth and nose is a lighter shade of gray than the rest of him. SniffSniffSniff Smackdown! If you look closely at the Bean, you can see that he is in the middle of a war cry. Spot is less than impressed. The Bean and that bastard Tubby. Whom I hate. Is it just me, or does the Bean look guilty? ]]>

Nance and Jane only keep me around because I keep things light (read: shallow). They are the Queens o’ Snark, and I am the yappy little sidekick dog. I would have stomped off in a huff, but it’s too true to be denied. (Also, Nance called me “nice.” That bitch!)

* * * I tried the Sweet Potato Crack that all the TUS-ers have been raving about for ages, and I’ll admit it – I was skeptical. Sweet potatoes, thyme, salt, and olive oil? Thyme. Who likes thyme? How could this dish be good? As if! Also, it makes me nervous to follow recipes that don’t have exact measurements. I have not the words to describe the tasty goodness of Sweet Potato Crack. It fucking ROCKS, and I’m about to sell Tubby on the street so I can afford to buy up every sweet potato in the country and spend the rest of my days standing over the baking dish burning my fingers as I pick pieces of fresh-out-of-the-oven SP Crack and stuff them in my face. Also! Sweet potatoes are GOOD FOR YOU!

Ounce for ounce, they have as much beta-carotene as carrots. A mere four ounces contain 50 percent of your daily requirement of vitamin C, as much potassium as a banana and a good amount of fiber.

Next time, I’m going to add more garlic, though. There’s no such thing as too much garlic. (Don’t look at me like that; Fred loves my garlic breath!) * * * I am even more klutzy than usual lately. Yesterday, I smashed the pinky toe on my right foot into the end of the bed, even though I could have sworn I was at least six feet from the bed at the time of the smashing. Today, while stepping into the SHOWER, I smashed my entire foot into the bottom of the shower and now, two hours later, it still aches. One of these days I’m going to smash my foot into something, and ::plunk!::plunk!::plunk!:: my toes are going to pop off one by one and go rolling under the bed, to never be seen again. * * * I stayed up late to finish Life of Pi, and while I’m giving it three Poos over on the reading list, the end kind of made me roll my eyes a little. I don’t know, I guess that’s just not what I wanted to see, but it was a fairly cool book all in all. * * * POSSIBLE THE BACHELOR SPOILERS IN THIS SECTION I wasn’t surprised to see Meredith go last night, though I was a little disappointed. When the rose ceremony started, I said to Fred, “Either Meredith or Mary is going tonight”. I suspect that Mary will go next week, because the fact that she wants to start a family immediately is scaring Bob a little. My prediction is that it’ll come down to Kelly Jo and Estella. I liked Kelly Jo a little more until just now when I went over to check out Estella’s profile and saw that she listed her hobbies as Doing the running man, break dancing and making animals out of balloons and answered the question “What are you most proud of” with My ability to walk fast while talking on a cell phone. Heh. At this point, though, I’m having a hard time preferring any of the women because they’re all so gorgeous and sweet. I think Kelly Jo is maybe a little too much like Bob and he needs someone to offset his crazyzanydorkiness. But he can’t wrong with any of them, really. Ah, I miss the old days when I had LeeAnn to hate… (Not!) * * * We watched the last hour of Joe Schmo last night, and it was fairly interesting. I like that Matt pointed out that even though everyone kept saying the show was “for” him, that it really wasn’t – they came up with the concept and then found him, so it really wasn’t for him. I also like that he pointed out that although everyone said he was such a nice guy, he was aware that the cameras were around him and acted accordingly. Also – Marcia! – he didn’t say whether he and Brian were still friends or not, but he did say that he had to work through his anger at Brian (who was also a writer for the show) before they could continue their friendship, which I think is a good sign. That he’s still willing to be friends with Brian, I mean. * * * I CAN’T WAIT ‘TIL IT’S TIME FOR SURVIVOR!!! * * * In case you were wondering, Gizmo is doing well. She and her big sister Dulcinea are Best Friends Forever. The Bean says “Who, me? I was just sitting here! I didn’t smack at your ass, really I didn’t!” Miz Poo decides not to put the smack down and instead heads for a nice, warm sun spot. But the Bean follows. Frightened by Miz Poo’s scary growl, he flees to the living room, where he curls up and dreams of kicking her ass. ]]>

I always look like a fucking lunatic when I take my own picture. Maybe I’ll go back to layered-with-bangs, like I had it back in 99.

Not a good angle. In fact, all angles are bad for me, it would appear. Eh. Who the fuck knows what I’ll do with my hair. I hate my hair, and it hates me back. Damn hair. It just exists to give me something to bitch about every six months. * * * Nance and Jane think I should have a BitchyCon. Except Jane is too scared to step foot into Alabama (who can blame her?). Actually, I think it’s fear of flying that keeps her from Alabama. Chicken. Bawk! Bawk! Bawk! By the way, speaking of Jane and Nance, this is what it looks like when we’re chatting: Jane: (something funny that makes me laugh until I cry) Nance: (something that makes what Jane said even funnier) Robyn: Hee! Nance: (something pithy and insightful) Jane: (something brilliant) Robyn: LOL! Jane: (a statement that clarifies the way the universe works) Nance: (makes fun of Jane for using big words) Robyn: Hahahah! And so forth. * * * POSSIBLE JOE SCHMO SPOILERS IN THIS SECTION Oh man, what a GREAT ending to the show. Of course, I should add that we only saw the first hour last night and had to tape the second, but seeing Matt so happy and crying all over the place made me happy. He really did turn out to be a pretty sweet guy, and I’m glad he ended up getting the $100,000 (though I didn’t doubt that he would), and I’m looking forward to watching the interview with Ralph that we taped last night. When Matt kept saying “What is GOING ON?” last night, Fred said “He’s turned into Edith Bunker!” Heh. * * * I was so pissed this morning when I realized it was only Wednesday, because I thought it was Thursday and that tonight was Survivor night. I cannot WAIT! * * * Okay, this’ll be the last thing about television (today), I promise! I taped Joe Millionaire Monday night and watched it after Fred went to bed last night. It was okay, but I think the bloom is off the rose when it comes to that show, I wasn’t riveted the way I was the first time around. Also, there was apparently a bonus show on last night that I missed. I think I’m going to skip the rest of Joe Millionaire this time around, especially since Average Joe is starting next week and that looks REALLY good. I felt sorry for Joe – what’s his name? David? – when the one girl asking him where his horse was, and he couldn’t understand her, even when she repeated herself. Been there. Done that. Felt like an idiot. Poor Joe. * * * I bought the Liz Phair album last week, and I’m liking it a lot, especially the song “Little Digger”. If you’re listening to the album with your 15 year-old daughter I’d give track number 11 (“H.W.C”) a miss, though. * * * The Bean loves to hang around Spanky, because Spanky is so bothered by having another cat in his space. Our Bean is a troublesome Bean. ]]>

check ’em out!

* * * I was laying in bed reading Life of Pi last night. I put it on my wish list after Pamie said it was good last year. Seriously, that’s all it takes. You say “Hey, this book was pretty good” and I add it to my wish list. That’s how I ended up reading that goddamn Mulvaney book, so sometimes believing what other people say about books gets me in trouble. Of course, if someone rants about how much a book sucks, I tend to buy it, because I foolishly think “Oh, p’shaw. It can’t be THAT bad!” I’m sure some of y’all do that, too, which probably means that I’ve sold an assload of copies of that FUCKING Mulvaney book. I swear, if I ever meet someone who has the last name Mulvaney, my fist will probably fly out and strike them on the chin automatically. But I digress. So I was reading Life of Pi, which isn’t bad so far – neither amazingly good nor horridly bad, and I do want to see what-all happens next – and I was suddenly absolutely dumbstruck, out of the blue, by the fact that I’m going to die. I’m going to DIE. Someday, I’m going to die. I’m going to die, you’re going to die, Fred will die, the spud will die. We’re going to DIE. All of us. Before you point out that 35 is awfully old to come to this striking realization, let me point out that I’ve always known, in a vague sort of way, that we’re all going to die, but it never hit me with such clarity. I stared in the ceiling and thought to myself “One day, I will be laying in bed, and I will know that I’m about to die.” That, of course, is assuming that I don’t die screaming in some horrible car or plane wreck, or am tripped while going down the stairs by Stanley-bean, and break my neck, black out, and die. I was actually shaking with the whole realization that I was going to DIE some day, just laid there and thought about it for a good ten minutes or so. Then I ditched that deep, introspective shit, picked up my book, and kept reading until I was tired. * * * This morning I came to yet another realization. You might die someday, but I am going to live forever. * * * I tried an experiment this morning. Last night before bed I turned my computer off (we usually keep our computers running all the time), and this morning I wouldn’t let myself turn it back on until I’d exercised and showered. I have the tendency to sit at the computer and put off exercising, which is why lately it’s been noon or later before I get around to taking my shower. Today I sat down in front of the computer having exercised and showered right after 10:00. I would call the experiment a success. * * * Speaking of last night, I sat down at the computer to check my mail one last time before bed. I jiggled the mouse to disable the screensaver, and found that SOME BASTARD NAMED FRED had made that creepy fucking picture I linked yesterday my wallpaper. Fucker. * * * Look at how close they’re laying to each other! They’re practically cuddling! “MEH!” ]]>

Miss Saigon on Saturday – that was one of the spud’s birthday presents – and the show kicked ass. I was occasionally distracted by the fact that the actor who played Chris had a very strong resemblance to Jon Walmsley (you might recognize him as Jason from The Waltons). We had second row seats, and we have first row seats for Jesus Christ, Superstar next month, and Les Mis in the spring. I teared up several times during the show (PMS is a bitch, yes it is), and a woman sitting in the row behind me was sobbing pretty loudly at the end. Great show, but also a downer. After the show (it was the Saturday matinee, and we got out about 4:30), we had dinner at Lonestar, and then came home and had cake and the spud opened most of her presents (she saved one to open on her actual birthday), and then she went upstairs to watch Crossroads and Fred and I sat around and waited for it to be bedtime. I was absolutely stuffed from the birthday cake. I’m glad the bakery we get our cakes from is on the other side of Huntsville. If it was any closer, we’d be in trouble. I think the spud had a pretty good time, and she got plenty of good gifts, so I’d call it definitely a happy birthday.

This picture seems to make the cake look kind of hideous, but it was pretty in person. I swear it! (And DAMN was it good…) * * * Pet store kitty pics are yonder. * * * I swear to god, I don’t know about my husband sometimes. He spent a good part of Saturday morning altering a picture of himself so that it would look creepy and make me scream and run away. It is SO fucking creepy, I can barely stand to look at it. Naturally I’m going to link to it so you can be creeped out as well. Go check it out, but don’t say I didn’t warn you! Creepy, ain’t it? * * * Speaking of creepy, we watched The Ring again yesterday, this time with the spud. Naomi Watts could be Nicole Kidman’s twin sister, I swear. She looks like her, she sounds like her, she has many of the same mannerisms. It was kind of distracting, really! Naomi Watts, Nicole Kidman, and Meg Ryan should play sisters in a movie and get it over with. Speaking of movies (nice segue, eh?) I also watched Bend it Like Beckham this weekend. Good movie! I love that adorable little Parminder Nagra. * * * When we adopted Stanley-bean, he had an upper respiratory infection and was on medication. The vet gave him an injection and told us to keep giving him the medication until it was gone. We did, and the wheezing and sneezing stopped. Over the weekend, the sneezing and wheezing started again, so after a discussion with the vet, Beanie-bean will be going on a different, stronger medication. Being sick hasn’t slowed Beanie down any, though – he still runs around like his ass is on fire. He and Fred have a game that keeps them entertained for hours. Fred sets the mesh hamper in the middle of the living room floor, and then tosses a ball in the hamper. Beanie comes running from his hiding place under the kitchen table, and attacks the hamper, sometimes pushing it all the way across the room. Then he runs off and waits for Fred to do it again. To see him in action, click on the “Movie of the week” over there in the sidebar (it’s under “about”). * * * For some reason, Stanley-bean loves to be held like this, so that he’s laying along the length of Fred’s arm. As soon as Fred picks him up like this, Bean starts purring so loud you can hear him from three rooms away. He just lays there and looks around, purring to beat the band. Freaky cat. ]]>

Angela, who posted in my comments yesterday and pointed out the idea of actually CALLING the school to see how formal the Homecoming dance will be before going out to buy a dress. Call and actually ask how formal the dance is going to be. What a radical idea! And yet somehow it simply never ever occurred to me. Duhhh. I made Fred call, of course, due to that whole phone phobia thing. It’s not formal. The guys will be wearing khakis and button-down shirts. Whew! I’m still going to take the spud shopping for a skirt and maybe a shirt, but the pressure is OFF. I never know what will set y’all off. I got a lot of comments about the horribleness of that dress that I linked. Hmph to you! What I’m thinking is that if the spud goes to her prom, I’ll need to have a PromGownCon and y’all will have to come to Alabama and help with the shopping and preparations. Deal? (I’m glad I didn’t link the dress SHE really liked…)

* * * A Robyn And3rson wrote a letter to the editor (fourth one down) over on Salon.com. People have been emailing me about it – who knew so many of y’all read the letters to the editor at Salon.com? – so just to let you know, no. I didn’t write it, but I wish I had! Just goes to show that we Robyn And3rsons agree about most things. Except for buying guns for high school students, that is. * * * Smokers, Fred and I were having a disagreement last night about how much cigarettes cost. I thought they might be up to $5 a pack, and he said they were only about $3.50. How much are y’all paying these days? * * * I did a little experiment. Once it was apparent to me that Stanley was a beanie-bean (because clearly, he is. He is SUCH a beanie-bean!), I wanted to see how long it would take Fred to pick up the nickname. It took two days from the first time I called Stanley “Beanie-bean” in front of Fred before Fred started doing it too. He’s such a copycat. Of course, you can hardly blame him. Stanley’s a total bean. * * * Almost sixteen years ago, my brother Tracy came home to visit with his 6 week-old son. I’d never had much to do with babies and always said I never wanted any of my own, but after spending time holding and playing with (and taking a million pictures of) Christopher, I fell in love. “Please god don’t let me break the baby…” Baby power! (Chris at about 4 months) Fifteen years ago today, this is what I looked like: I didn’t show until I hit my 7th month, and one day I woke up and my stomach was poking out three feet in front of me. When this picture was taken, I was one day away from the doctor appointment where the nurse practioner would do an ultrasound, estimate the baby’s weight at 10 pounds 4 ounces, and get the doctor on the horn. The doctor told me that since the baby was the size of a small moose (“The nurse saw antlers!” he said) it would be prudent to go ahead and schedule a c-section. I’d actually suspected all along that I’d never actually use all that stuff I learned in Lamaze class. Fifteen years ago on Sunday, I was coming out from under the anesthesia, and when I could stay conscious for more than five minutes, the spud’s father went and got her from the nursery and brought her to me. Everyone else was talking about how big she was, but to me, even at 10 pounds 2 ounces, she was tiny. My immediate thought when I first held her was a panicked “What the hell have I done? I’m not ready for this! I can’t have a BABY.” I was almost 21. I think she’s turned out pretty well so far. * * * When I was looking for the above pictures, I found this: How could I have thought this was a good look, ever? * * * “Iiiiiii’m too sexy for my dad, so sexy for my fur, so sexy it hurrrrrts…” ]]>

* * * The spud will be attending the Homecoming dance at the high school next week. Apparently she and some of her friends sounded like it would be fun. When I asked the spud what she intended to wear, she said “Some of the girls are going to wear skirts. I have a skirt, I’ll wear that.” Now, let me just say that I pretty much have no clue what the spud has for clothes. If she needs a certain piece of clothing we go out and buy it for her, and then I don’t think about clothes again until I absolutely have to. She does her own laundry, her grandparents buy her (way too many) clothes. I simply have no idea what she has for clothes save what I see her in – and even then I tend not to notice what she’s wearing all that often. If it’s clean and covers her, then she can wear it as far as I’m concerned. A few days after our first discussion about the dance, wherein I pinned down all the particulars – she’s going to meet her friends there, her friend Shawn/ Sean/ Shaun is going to be her “date”, no she doesn’t like Shawn/ Sean/ Shaun “like that” but the rumor mill around school that they’re dating, and she thinks the dance starts around 6 – I asked her to show me the skirt she was planning to wear. It was a knee-length denim skirt. I know nothing about Homecoming, but even I know that a knee-length denim skirt is a tad less formal than what she needed to wear. I did a google search on Homecoming dresses, and guess what? They’re QUITE formal. They’re pretty much like prom dresses. Oh happy, HAPPY day. Now we need to get her a formal dress and all the accoutrements in a little more than a week. And I will be FUCKED before I spend $200 on a dress. I was looking at dresses online and found one I thought might look good on her (why are they all sleeveless or spaghetti-strapped? What the fuck is wrong with SLEEVES?), and then saw the price and gasped. $250. The spud, who was standing behind me said “Why would anyone want to spend that much money on a dress for ONE night?” Clearly, she is her mother’s daughter. We’re going to go look for dresses at Kohl’s this afternoon. Y’all, shut up. I found a perfectly suitable and lovely dress on their website, so perhaps they’ll have something even better in the store. I love shopping, so this will be BIG FUN for me. Except for the “love shopping” and “big fun” part.

* * * Yesterday after dinner, as I stood up to put my plate in the sink, I heard a whiny little war cry coming from the living room. Stanley-bean was standing in front of Tubby, ready to start some shit. So I grabbed the camcorder and shot a little movie of it, for your viewing pleasure. Before I provide the link, a warning. It’s fucking HUGE. It’s only a 45-second movie, but it’s 7.3 MB. It will probably take forever and a day to load, even if you’ve got a fast connection. Your best bet would be to download it to your own hard drive and watch it from there. It’s an .mpg, so if you can’t view .mpgs, you won’t be able to view this. I did attempt to cut down on the size a little by saving it as a .wmv, but that looked so crappy that you could barely tell what was going on. So an .mpg it is. The movie’s probably not going to be available for more than a few days, since it’s so huge. I’ve put a “movie of the week” link over on the sidebar (it’s the last link in the “About” section), and I’ll probably change the movie out whenever I get around to it. Whether that’ll be once a day, once a week or once a month is anyone’s guess. So go see Stanley-bean in action here (sorry, it’s been removed due to the size). Make sure your volume is turned up so that you can hear his war cry! * * * A few months ago while wandering around the internet, I found a cool pattern to make a plastic canvas Cartman. The pattern was for yarn and something called “continental” and “reverse continental” stitches, which is nothing I know anything about, but I decided to give it a try with cross-stitches. I think it turned out pretty well, though the eyes look a little funny. If I make it again, I’ll probably do his eyes squinched shut, like when he gets mad. Also, next time I’ll only use one thread to do the outline, instead of two (I wasn’t paying attention, apparently). It’s only about an inch and a half tall, so I think I’m going to slap a magnet on the back and stick him to the fridge. The pattern, by the way, is here. She has a bunch of other free patterns here, as well. Yes, this belongs over in the crafty blog. I’m sure I’ll get around to it one of these days… Of course, without the “To Do” blog to keep me on the straight and narrow, it may never happen! Heh. * * * Does this look particularly comfortable to you? Doesn’t it look like the whole kit and caboodle is going to topple over at any moment? Stanley-bean makes a funny face at The Momma.]]>