Author: Robyn

Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom and The Red Tent) off of my wish list, which took me completely by surprise (surprises are good!), and I’d like to thank you properly.

* * * Notifylist.com, you sure do piss me off. I’m not getting my Jane notifies. I’m not getting my Allison notifies. What other notifies are you failing to send me, motherfucker? I hate you! I HATE YOU! I joined the goddamn notify lists so that I wouldn’t HAVE to type their urls in with my dainty little fingers, and also I don’t have all their sites saved in my “favorites” folder, because the reason I JOIN notify lists is so that all those bookmarks won’t clutter up my “favorites” folder, and YES, I do have a list of journals and blogs I read, but it is woefully incomplete, to wit: I began reading Allison AFTER April 16, 2003, and thus she is not on the list, and it is only because I was perusing Jane’s guestbook and saw an entry by the lovely (and now engaged!) Allison that I thought to myself “Hey. I haven’t gotten a notify from her lately!”, and went to find that she had updated TWICE since the last notify I got from her, AND I HATE YOU NOTIFYLIST.COM!!! (And of course as soon as I typed that, I got notifies from BOTH Allison and Jane.) * * * Fred and I had an adventurous roadtrip down to Deliverance country today. He wrote about it (or at least the first part of it) in detail today, so I’ll wait until both parts of his entry are up before I address the whole adventure here. Just know that it was a little SKEERY. Not our destination, but very close to it. * * * On our way home from Deliverance country, we stopped at a roadside stand in Hartselle to pick up some apples (’tis the season, y’know) and a bag of plums, and while we were there we bought a small bag of raw peanuts to put in the back yard for the squirrel, who is visiting the bird feeders several times a day as he prepares for winter (there were actually two squirrels in the back yard yesterday – the regular one, and an interloper, who got his ass handed to him on a platter by the regular one, who has apparently claimed our yard as his own). Miz Poo went out into the back yard with me as I refilled the bird feeders and scattered some peanuts in the platform feeder on the ground. When I was done, Miz Poo came running over and sniffed the peanuts, then looked up at me with her mouth hanging open. It cracks me up when the cats do that, because they look so damn brain-dead. One of these days I’ll actually get a picture of it. * * * Speaking of cats (aren’t I always?), Fred and I were laying in bed talking about the point in the future when we might get a new cat (which won’t be soon, so calm down!), and trying to come up with names. We tossed forth a bunch of “S” names. “Shibby!” I said. “Scooby!” Fred said. “Skanky! Skanky ho!” “Stanky!” There was a long pause while we thought hard. Fred turned to me, his eyes shining. Spanky, who was laying on me looked expectantly at him. “Shizzle!” he said. “Shizzle M. Nizzle!” I hooted so loudly that Spanky hauled ass away from me as fast as his little legs could carry him. Now if we only knew what “Shizzle my nizzle” meant… * * * This is Dulcinea (Gizmo’s big sister)… ..and Gizmo, in the same window. SHE IS SO CUTE! Perhaps I’ve mentioned? 🙂 * * * Another sunset from our back yard. ]]>

Cujo (don’t give me that look; I read Carrie when I was younger than she is. Yes, she’s old enough to read Cujo.) last night and today was looking at our collection of Stephen King books. “Does he have any that aren’t so… BIG?” she asked. Heh. (Oh my god! She was looking at the list of books by Stephen King and said “Do we have Dance Mack-a-burr?” I stared at her for a minute blinking before I informed her of the correct way to pronounce macabre. Which is not the funny part. The funny part is that years and years ago when Danse Macabre first came out, I was all excited and checked it out from the library, and that night my brother Tracy called from wherever he was (Colorado? Maybe?) and I told my mother, “Ask him if he knows that Stephen King has a new book out!”, and my mother asked him and relayed back to him that he had said “No, what’s it called?”, and I said “Dance Mack-a-burr!”, and then my mother (and I assume Tracy on the other end of the phone) laughed for a good long time at me. Hmph.)

* * * I don’t think I mentioned this, but when we did The Big Reformat on my computer a few weeks ago, the one and only thing I forgot to back up was our Quicken file. This means that all of our checking, savings, and loan information was dust in the wind. (Thank god I *did* make sure to back up the company Quickbooks files) Fred reacted better than I expected when I told him; there was no wailing or gnashing of teeth, just a moment of closing his eyes while silently asking himself how he could have turned all the family finances over to the biggest airhead in the south. The day after I realized what had happened, I got an email from the bank letting me know that our eStatement was ready and I could download it whenever I wanted. Have I mentioned that our credit union ROCKS? So I downloaded it, created a checking file in Quicken, took the ending balance from the statement, and then went online and printed out all the transactions there had been since the ending balance, so I could enter them in Quicken. I think at this point that we’re pretty much caught up, thank god. I may be an airhead, but I solved the problem! Of course, if someone wants to see a copy of the check I wrote to the spud’s school for her lunch fees from three years ago, we’ll be screwed since I won’t be able to bring up the check number, but eh. How often does that happen? (Famous last words, right?) * * * GIZMO UPDATE! Kate said that Gizmo is getting along well with her big sister, Dulcinea. There’s been no cuddling, it’s all play-fighting and chasing each other around. I suspect it’s just a matter of time before they’re doing this. Dulci and Gizmo. It seems to be a toss-up as to who’s winning this one. She’s so cuuuuuuuute! ]]>

10-8 on Sunday nights. Imagine my surprise when we watched the season premiere. We knew that Ernie Hudson – who was the warden in Oz – was in the show, but a familiar face flashed across the screen, and I was struck almost speechless. “It’s! It’s! It’s!” I sputtered, pointing at the screen. “What?” Fred said, staring at me and then the screen, which was no longer showing the familiar face. “It’s! You know! It’s!” I struggled to come up with the name, and finally located it in a hidden corner of my brain. “It’s CYRIL!” For the record, Fred thinks Scott William Winters is the ugliest man alive, and every time Cyril comes on the screen, Fred says “God. He is SO ugly. His brother definitely got the looks!” (Dean Winters, who plays Cyril’s brother is Scott William Winters’ brother in real life)

I do not think Scott William Winters is ugly. At all. Also for the record, Scott William Winters played the blond guy in the bar who got his ass handed to him by Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting. He played himself in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back (in the “I don’t like the sound of them apples, Will. What are we gonna dooo?” scene.) * * * So, I tend to go through my life (my real life) under the impression that no one really notices me. The main places I go are the pet store, the grocery store, the post office, and occasionally Target. The morning people at the pet store – the managers at least – have come to recognize me, because they need to open the cat room for me on my feed-n-scoop days. I think that some of the cashiers at the grocery store have come to recognize me, because I’ve been going in there at least twice a week for two or three years. I don’t know them well enough to chat, but we do smile and say hello. Of course, they smile and say hello to everyone, so maybe they don’t recognize me at all, and I’m delusional. Fred always gets groceries on Saturday morning as soon as the store opens, and so he’s developed a chatty relationship with many of the Saturday morning workers. But anyway, you get my point. I go through life pretty sure that no one much notices me, because at the places I frequent, they get hundreds of customers every day and why would I stick out? Saturday morning, Fred went out to run errands. One of his errands was to drop books off at the post office, and since a couple of them were going to Canada, he went in and stood in line because if a package is more than 1 pound (in the envelope, the book weighs 1 pound and 1/10 of an ounce, and they won’t let that slide, because if they let 1/10 of an ounce slide, they should probably let 2/10 of an ounce slide, then 3/10 of an ounce, then perhaps a whole ounce, and all would be anarchy), you have to hand it to a real live person, because it might be a bomb or something. A flat, book-shaped bomb. After standing in line for several minutes, Fred got to the front of the line and put his packages down in front of the postal worker. They chit-chatted (because Fred is a chit-chatty motherfucker), and then the postal worker glanced at the return address label on one of the packages! “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Box 565!” “Yes,” Fred agreed. “And3rson!” the postal worker said. “Robyn!” It should be noted that my name and our last name wasn’t on the package. Fred, not knowing what to say, nodded. “She likes to send packages to Topsham, Maine,” he told Fred, as if Fred didn’t know that already. “She grew up in Lisbon Falls. I grew up in Bath!” Later, telling me the story, Fred gave me a mock-suspicious look. “And then he told me he likes to have sex with you in the break room every day at 11!” he lied. “Only on Tuesdays,” I said. * * * Pet store kitty pics are here. * * * These cat beds are the best investment we’ve ever made, cat-wise. (Can you tell Spanky just woke up?) ]]>

the comments; it’s got a big bold warning at the top for those of you who haven’t seen the show yet.

* * * It’s time for another poll, isn’t it? This one regards comments. They’re currently set up so that the most recent comment is at the bottom of the page. So, would you prefer to have the comments that way, or would you prefer to have the most recent comments at the top of the page so you don’t have to scroll down? It doesn’t matter either way to me, ’cause I get all the comments via email, which is one of the reasons I love Movable Type so much. Anyway, even if you don’t care, you can still vote. Because I love you *just* that much. (Plus, it was free, so it appealed to my cheap side.)

Comments

Would you like the most recent comments at the top of the page, or the bottom? Top Bottom Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn. Current Results

* * * I thought I was going to get my ass divorced this morning after I told Fred that I’d downloaded MSN Messenger Plus last night, and it was making my computer act funny and had added some kind of toolbar to my Internet Explorer, and even though I’d uninstalled it and uninstalled Messenger, the thing on the toolbar was still there, and my computer was acting funny. “Bessie!” he said. “WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT INSTALLING THINGS PEOPLE SEND YOU???” I tried to blame it on Mo. “It’s Mo’s fault!” I said. “She’s a muffinhead.” “No,” Fred said. “You’re the muffinhead. DID SHE STAND OVER YOU AND MAKE YOU INSTALL IT??” “No,” I said. “But she told me I’d be one of the cool kids if I did!” “Did you READ the End User License Agreement?” he asked. Like anyone ever reads those. “Noooo,” I said. And he began reading it to me. I put the phone down and went to pee and get a cup of water, and when I got back, he was still reading. “Hm,” I said when he was done. “That’s interesting!” He yelled at me some more, telling me that he’d done a search on Messenger Plus, and it was widely loathed for installing all kinds of spyware on computers. “Nance tried to stop me,” I said. “But it was too late.” “Well good for Nance!” he said, then paused. “Why did she try to stop you?” “Because Rick had a hard time uninstalling all the shit from her computer, too.” It was then decided that Nance was also a muffinhead. After downloading and running AdAware and SpyBot, I think my system’s clean again. AdAware found 79 things on my computer to get rid of (about a third of those were cookies)(mmm, cookies) and SpyBot found another 9. I probably should not be allowed to be on the computer without adult supervision. * * * Did you know that last week was Banned Books week? I went to the bookstore with Fred yesterday so he could exchange a book, and I found a display with a bunch of books that had been banned. I bought The Outsiders and A Wrinkle in Time to re-read, because if it’s BANNED, it’s GOTTA be good. Fred was poking around in the self-help section, and I saw this book and pointed it out to him. “Why Men Love Bitches!” I said, smirking. “You need this!” Then I looked closer and saw the subtitle: From Doormat to Dreamgirl-A Woman’s Guide to Holding Her Own in a Relationship. Hmph. I was going to buy a copy of Good in Bed to give away in honor of Wendy‘s Jemima J. vendetta, but Fred gave me The Look, so I put it back. But put it on your wish list if you haven’t read it. * * * 1. What vehicle do you drive? A white ’97 Jeep Grand Cherokee. 2. How long have you had it? Uh… less than 4 years, because I remember mentioning it in an entry. I wrote about it on February 21, 2000, so a few days before that. 3. What is the coolest feature on your vehicle? That it runs. And the stereo’s okay. Fred’s got seat warmers in his Jeep. Hmph. 4. What is the most annoying thing about your vehicle? That it’s white, that it’s an SUV, that the engine is very loud and the brakes squeal, that it tends to pull to the right even after a 4-wheel alignment. 5. If money were no object, what vehicle would you be driving right now? It’d be a 3-way tie between a yellow Mini-Cooper, a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, or a yellow (if they make them), uh… DAMN, I can’t remember the name of it. It’s a tiny little two-seater, and the name of it might start with an “s”, and it’s a convertible. But it might not start with an “s”. Argh! Well, if it comes to me later, I’ll come back and add the name. (Thanks, Laurie! It’s a Mazda Miata, which doesn’t have an “s” in it at all. Duhhhh.) * * * That is not a pillow. That is a little bag of catnip. Miz Poo sniffed it, kicked it’s ass, and was so exhausted that she fell asleep. A year ago: Fred has been remarkably calm. Resigned, you might say. Two years ago: You know, for an event that’s for a good cause and supposed to make me feel all happy, I’m certainly feeling mighty hate-filled and grumpy right now Three years ago: Fred’s eyes went big as saucers, and he moved as if he were going to leap across the table at me and heimlich me to within an inch of my life.]]>

Father Ray (played by B.D. Wong) said “fuck”, Fred turned to me and said “A priest who says ‘fuck’! That’s my kinda priest!”

* * * I think that Wendy feels the same sort of hatred for Jemima J. as I do for We Were the Mulvaneys. I could be wrong, though. She seems a little wishy-washy about it. I think she might secretly like the book. Heh. * * * Pet store kitty pictures are hither. * * * So, I ran over to Target this morning to buy some paper towels (the cat room was out of paper towels, which makes it somewhat difficult to clean the cages), and while I was there I wandered by the book section. This book looked really, really good, and I picked it up and thought about buying it, but ultimately put it down because I have so many books to be read on my bookcase; I decided to add it to my Amazon wish list, instead. (And I had a hell of a time finding it on Amazon, because I couldn’t quite remember the name. Sickly? Sicken? Sickening? Finally I searched on Munchausen By Proxy and found it.) On my way back by the book section toward the cash register, I stopped to look at a few “chick lit” type books, and I glanced at the top of the display, and did it say “Chick Lit”? Why, no. No it didn’t. It said “Hip Lit.” Hip Lit? Kinda sounds like a display of books written in the 70s, doesn’t it? Does anyone say “hip” anymore? Is “hip” making a comeback, in that throwback-to-the-70s kinda way? I need to know these things. * * * Fred came upstairs this morning after I thought he’d already left for work SCARING THE HELL OUT OF ME as I walked out of the bathroom. “Did you order an empty box from The Humane Catalog?” he asked, holding up a huge box. I blinked and thought for a moment (see? I can do two things at once!), and then stared at the box. “I ordered a black and white cat egg to round out the collection,” I said. “But it’s really small. There’s no way it needs a box that big!” I opened it up, and under ten tons of packing was this very small cat egg that fits neatly in the palm of my hand. For an idea of the size, here it is next to Spot for comparison purposes. Aaaand here it in sitting on a corner of the box it came in. I’m thinking they might want to stock up on smaller boxes in the future, just in case. * * * From this angle, Tubby looks twice as big as Spanky. Oh, wait. He IS! ]]>

Bitchypoo logo! This one was done by the lovely and talented Kristen. Thanks, Kristen!

* * * Don’t hold me to it, but I’m considering doing NaNoWriMo this year. It doesn’t start until November 1st, so that gives me a whole month to procrastinate signing up for it! * * * I went into the back yard yesterday afternoon to fill up the bird feeders and clean out the bird bath (which had MOSS in it, it’d been so long since I’d cleaned it), and since I could keep an eye on her, I let Miz Poo come out with me. She sat uncertainly on the patio for a few minutes, sniffing at the air as though she’d never been outside before, and then suddenly she ran as fast as she could toward the fence and the tomato plants. She hung out over there, rolling around in the grass, for a while. I glanced up as I was filling the bird feeders, and saw her hauling ass toward the other end of the back yard, the end where the DAMN NEIGHBORS have still not replaced their fence. “Miz Poo!” I called, worried she’d run into their back yard and I’d have to chase her. She stopped and looked at me, and then ran over to the shed. She sniffed around for a few minutes, then tried to crawl under the shed. She was stymied by her big butt, which wouldn’t fit under the shed. I was about to walk over and pick her up to bring her inside with me, when she came out from under the shed and stared toward the gaping hole in the neighbors’ fence. She started doing that snake thing that cats do – you know, where their heads weave back and forth – and then she whimpered in confusion. I walked over and picked her up, because I could just sense that she was about to lose her shit, run pell-mell into their back yard, and then haul ass out the gaping hole in the back of their fence, which looks onto a very busy road, and get herself splattered all over said very busy road. Instead of of thanking me for saving her stupid life, she whined at me, and struggled to get away, leaving a big scratch across the top of my left boob. Brat. * * * I got an email forward from my father earlier today. The text of the email was: Hey my friends. My buddy is looking for a good home for a very special dog. He said it’s really lovable and friendly with the kids, but his wife says the dog makes her nervous when it stares at her and she wants it out of the house. She isn’t much of a dog person. Pass this on if you know anyone who may be interested. A photo is attached. Now go look at the picture. Nightmares. I’m going to have nightmares. * * * Pictures of Gizmo, courtesy of my sister-in-law, Kate. Dulcinea puts the smack down on Gizmo. Kinda looks like Gizmo’s dancing, doesn’t it? LOVE the kitty pictures from above! (Thanks, Kate! 🙂 ]]>

* * * Last night, we passed one of the six churches we pass on our drive to and from the post office every evening. “Let’s become rabid fundamentalist christians!” Fred suggested. “Do we get to tell people they’re going to hell?” I asked. “HELL yeah! We can tell everyone, repeatedly, until they start avoiding us!” “Ooh, that sounds like fun!” You’re all going to hell. (Save me a seat)

* * * By the way, all y’all who keep telling me I need to get a kitten? I can’t hearrrrrr youuuuuuu. Lalalalalalaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Heh. For the record, we’re not against getting another cat – preferably a kitten – but Fancypants has only been missing for about four months (only!), and we’d like to give it a few more months, at least through the winter. Of course, that’s all null and void if I fall in love with another kitten. * * * Gardening advice needed – can I chop my butterfly bush down to a nubbin and still expect it to come back okay? And when would be the best time to cut it back? Fall? Spring? It’s grown in kind of funny and tilted, and I’d like to cut it back severely in hopes of getting it to look a little more normal. Also, my Million Bells Petunias, can I cut those back, keep them in the shed, and expect them to come back next Spring? Or am I dreaming? Please leave any advice in the comments, thank you! * * * I’m currently reading and enjoying Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them. I try to stay away from the political-type books, because even the thought of them bores the snot out of me (though I did read one of Ann Coulter’s books several months back – maybe last year – and enjoyed it), but watching Fred guffaw over the book made me want to read it. Al’s especially funny when he talks about Bill O’Reilly. I mean, I like Bill O’Reilly a lot and usually enjoy his show, but you can’t deny that he’s got blowhard tendencies. Of course, anyone who points the finger at either the Left or the Right and blames everything on them has to be taken with a grain of salt. * * * The happiest! kitty! in the world! ]]>

About one in 3,000 tricolored cats are males, although only 1 in 10,000 of these males is fertile , so who’s the nutball now, huh? (Don’t answer that) Other interesting information: though calico males are rare, you can’t get someone to pay zillions of dollars for them, because even if they are fertile, chances are good they won’t father another male calico. And Miz Poo is not a calico, but rather a tortoiseshell, because: With a calico, there is a significant amount of white, and the two colors are broken up into distinct patches. This has to do with the interaction of white spotting. With a tortoiseshell, the three colors are blended and don’t form distinct patches. A tortoiseshell may have significant portions of white as well, but the remaining colors are blended . Learn something new every day, don’t you?

* * * After Tracy and Kate (I’ll refer to her as Kate from here on out, since that’s how she posts, and the Kate/ Lee thing can be a bit confusing) left, we decided it was such a beautiful day that we needed to go for a drive. We drove a big loop through Athens and some other towns (sue me, I wasn’t paying attention), through Decatur, and then home down the highway. We kept seeing cotton fields that stretched as far as the eye could see, and finally Fred stopped so we could take some pictures. Today’s even more beautiful, if that’s possible, not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature hovering around 70. I know I’ve lived in Alabama too long when 70 is a bit too cool for me. At one point when I was in Maine we were sitting out on the back deck, and a breeze came up. I crossed my arms and shivered, and my sister said “Oh shut UP, you are NOT cold! It’s the middle of the summer!” Heh. * * * Friday, I opened the front door to find a bag hanging from the doorknob. Further investigation showed that it was a bag left from a dry-cleaning company that picks up and delivers. The note on the bag read “If you’re going to use our services, call (this number). If you plan to never use our services, please leave the bag by your door Saturday so that we may pick it up.” I tossed the bag on the floor by the front door and promptly forgot about it. Saturday while I was on the phone with Tracy discussing the kitten, the doorbell rang. I ignored it, since I wasn’t expecting any company and also since I was in the middle of a phone call. Later, we found a note on the front door that basically reiterated everything that the note on the bag said, and if we were never going to use their services, to leave the bag by the front door and they’d pick it up. Now, here’s the thing. It’s not that I really want to keep the bag (I did mean to hang it out this morning but forgot), but I’m of the mind that if you leave something on my front door, it pretty much becomes mine. (If you’d like my address so that you can leave a big bag of money hanging off the doorknob, just let me know)(stalkers need not apply) And it’s a nice, sturdy bag. Also, “never” is a broad span. What if at some point in the future I start wearing clothes that need dry-cleaning, and I want the handy-dandy drop off-pick up feature? Shouldn’t I hang on to the bag just in case? Ah me, what a dilemma. * * * Spanky was sitting in the computer room, minding his own business. Along came Miz Poo, who decided she wanted to be startin’ somethin’. “You tawkin’ to me?” “Well I’m the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you’re tawkin’ to?” Spanky’s about ready to put the smack down (note his tail, which was whipping around so furiously that it’s blurred in the picture). Sadly, they were distracted by Fred before the smack could be put down.]]>

Guess What? Oh, don’t get excited. He’s not ours. My sister-in-law, Lee, and brother, Tracy, were in Alabama this weekend (Lee’s mother passed away late last week), and before they left Lee saw the picture of the kitten on the pet store page and just fell in love. Tracy gave me the go-ahead yesterday morning, and I ran to the pet store and adopted the kitten, spent the day playing with him (we thought the kitten was a girl, by the way, until Fred pointed out that it wasn’t so), and when Lee and Tracy got here last night, Lee took one look and fell even harder in love. Tracy, Lee, and Mireya didn’t stay nearly long enough, by the way. It was a lot of fun sitting around and talking with them and watching the kitten play. I think they should just move closer. Though why anyone would move to Alabama… 🙂 He’s so damn sweet, y’all. It was hard to let them leave with the kitten this morning, but I’m sure Miz Poo’s heart would have been broken if we’d kept him – he slept with me last night, and Miz Poo spent the night under the couch. I do not, however, envy Tracy and Lee the 13-hour drive home. I’m sure the kitten’s howling his little head off at this very moment. His name, by the way, is Gizmo. I think that’s a pretty perfect name for him. And Lee, you know you’re obligated to take 10,000 pictures of him as he gets bigger, right? :)]]>

Door to Door last night, when something caught my eye and I glanced at the floor. A small cockroach trundled along the rug, went between Fred’s feet, and under the love seat. I made a face and pointed to the spot between his feet. “Ew,” I said. “There’s – ” Immediately, screaming like a little girl, Fred levitated across the room to the fireplace, where he began dancing a jig, slapping at his legs, and screaming intermittently. I collapsed in a heap, laughing so hard I could barely breathe. Fred, not appreciating the humor of the situation yet, glared at me from across the room. It is my goal in life to get that scream on tape so y’all can enjoy it as well. He said.

* * * The Patricia Heaton book is chatty and amusing. I’ll probably be giving it three stars, unless it goes to shit in the last third of the book. Still looking forward to starting the Al Franken book. Between the Dr. Phil book, the Patricia Heaton book, and the Al Franken book, this is more nonfiction than I’ve read in the entire last year! * * * POSSIBLE SURVIVOR SPOILERS; SKIP TO THE NEXT SECTION IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT YET Was I surprised to see Drake win both challenges? Nope. Was I surprised to see the Morgan people call Sandra a bitch for taking their tarp? Nope. (And as a side note, I could NEVER have gone to the other tribe’s camp and taken something like that. I would have been all “Yeah, I’ll take this rock right here.” Because Morgan had so much less than Drake, and I would have just felt sorry for them. Because that’s the kinda gal I am!) And was I surprised to see Skinny Ryan go? Again, nope. I was disappointed, though, because I thought he was way more likeable than Osten could ever be. I’m going to predict that if Drake loses the next Immunity Challenge, Lillian will be the next to go. Of course, that’s an easy prediction. Have I mentioned that I love this show? * * * We also watched Extreme Makeovers last night. I love that show, but god. If I have one piece of advice for y’all, it is this: Please DO NOT LET ANYONE INJECT ANYTHING INTO YOUR LIPS, EVER. Because the result is so achingly plastic looking that no one will ever believe for a single second that those are your real lips. I feel your thin-lipped pain, because I have the thinnest lips ever, but the day will never come when I want fat taken from one part of my body and injected into my lips. Never. (Although it would be fun to have fat taken from my ass and injected into my lips so I can tell people that Fred kisses my ass all the time. Yes, I’m a 12 year-old boy.) * * * Yeah. Not a whole lot going on around here today. I think I’ll toss up a few extra kitty pictures and call it a day! * * * Tubby and Spanky sleep in those cat beds ALL day long. Unless Tubby hears me open a window (no, our neighbors haven’t gotten their fence repaired yet. Grr.) Miz Poo is offended by Tubby’s existence and smacks at him. He just ignores her and she eventually goes away. ]]>