Author: Robyn

* * * After a crappy beginning to the day yesterday, the sky cleared and it was bright and sunny and warm for most of the day. Today, it’s sunny and warm again, with the high expected to get somewhere close to 80. And best of all? Finally, FINALLY, several of them bloomed. How can you not love daffodils? How, Chris, how? Ah well, to each her own, I s’pose. As long as you don’t go crazy and decide you no longer love The Vince, I’ll be happy. After I got that picture above, I turned around to see Fancypants sitting in the doorway watching me. I took his picture, but didn’t realize until just now that he’d been in the process of yawning. Kinda looks like he’s screaming, doesn’t he?

* * * Pet store kitties for today are hither. * * * Have you ever looked forward to reading a book, thinking it will be pretty good, and once you’ve started reading it you don’t love it nearly like you thought you would? I’ve been looking forward to reading And My Shoes Keep Walking Back to You, by Kathi Kamen Goldmark for a while now, mostly because I know she’s with the Rock Bottom Remainders, and I like most of the authors involved with the group, with few exceptions. Plus, there are positive reviews by a lot of authors on the back of her book. And the plot – Sarah Jean Pixlie, a Bay Area country singer who stumbles into stardom – sounds like it’s right up my alley. But I’ve been reading it for the past two days, and I’m not enjoying it terribly much. I’ll finish it, because I want to know what happens, but unless it gets a lot better soon I’ll be rating it with an “eh” on the reading list. * * * I hit Target this morning for the first time in a long time. I needed kitty litter and stuff to clean the shower and bathtub, and Target’s the best place to get that stuff. While I was wandering around, I noticed that the Diet Coke was on sale, $2 for a 12-pack, so I bought 5 (they limit you to 5). So we’re stocked up on Diet Coke for the time being, considering that Publix has 6-packs on sale for 89 cents each. Publix limits you to 4 6-packs at a time, so every time I’ve driven past Publix the last few days I’ve been stopping and buying 4 6-packs. Although the 12-packs at Target are a bit more expensive than the 6-packs at Publix, they’re also in refrigerator containers, which are more convenient than 6-packs and their plastic rings. I have no idea where I was going with this topic. I apparently just felt it important that you know I’m all stocked up on Diet Coke. You can rest easy now. I’m off to finish the spud’s laundry (so she’ll have clean clothes to take on vacation with her) and do some other fun stuff. Y’all have a good one!]]>

* * * May I just say that I was disappointed that no one on American Idol sang “Xanadu” last night? Hmph. Clay and Ruben kicked ass, and so did Trenyce. I thought the blond Kimberly did a pretty good job – even though I don’t really care for her – but she’d probably have been better off doing a song where the backup singers did so much of the song. I guess I’ll be taping American Idol tonight, though, since it’s on against Survivor. Did they have to do that? Couldn’t they have put Survivor on at 8 instead of 7? Bastards. Oh, wait. I’ll be watching The Bachelor: Where Are They Now? at 8, anyway.

* * * So, it’s – have I ever mentioned this? – always something. ALWAYS something, and can I just say that this month has been incredibly crappy? I told Fred last night that I was afraid to go on vacation because the hotel would probably fall into the ocean in the middle of the night. Last night, Miz Poo was licking at her incision, and I mentioned to Fred that where she was licking was starting to get rather red. We started watching The Shield, and Fred got up to get a drink. As he passed by Miz Poo, he lifted her up a little to look at her belly, and I saw something shiny and liquidy where she’d been licking. I told Fred to lift her up, despite his protests that the liquid I’d seen was just from her licking, and when he did, we saw a little hole in her belly – toward the end of the incision – along with what looked like pus to me. I got a paper towel and dabbed at the fluid. It was a little red, but most a yellow-clearish color. Naturally, I sat and worried for the rest of The Shield (though I wasn’t too distracted to enjoy Mackey calling that civilian auditor a santimonious bitch. Go, Mackey!). I was so worried that Fred even asked if I wanted to take her to the animal emergency clinic in Huntsville, bless his heart. I said no, because she was acting okay, didn’t seem to be in any real pain, and chirped happily when I reached over to pet her. We went to bed once The Shield was over, and talked about her some more, worrying, and talking about what a crappy month this has been. Before Fred went off to his room, we looked for Miz Poo – whom we’d brought upstairs with us so that Fred could give her her medicine – and I found her downstairs sitting on the back of the couch. That actually made me feel a little better, since getting on the back of the couch requires some effort. In the middle of the night, I woke to find her climbing on top of me, and she stayed there for some time before climbing down and settling on the bed next to me. This morning, Fred called the vet’s office and discovered that the vet wouldn’t be in today. The lady who answered the phone told Fred that if the vet did plan to stop by the office, she’d call so we could bring Miz Poo in to see him. But she didn’t sound concerned at all – a good sign that this is the sort of thing that usually happens after surgery, I guess. Later, she called to tell Fred that they’d planned to have Miz Poo come in on Friday to have her staples out, and I could just drop her off first thing in the morning. I’m still worried about Miz Poo, of course, but I’m not as worried as I was. I think. Argh. Always something, you know? * * * So Fred called me from work around 7:20 this morning (to tell me what the lady at the vet’s office had said), and after I hung up the phone and rolled over to go back to sleep, I noted that it seemed rather bright out. Since we haven’t seen any sun in a while, I hoped that meant we’d have a sunny day. An hour later, the phone rang again, waking me up. I noticed, as I rolled over to grab the phone, that it had gotten a lot darker out. And then I answered the phone. “Turn on the TV!” Fred said. “There’s bad weather out your way, and the tornado sirens are going off. Tell me what’s going on!” I opened the blinds, and saw a wall of dark clouds, moving fast. I turned on the TV and switched channels around until I found a special weather report. Two minutes later, sheets of rain began pouring down from the sky. I watched the weather report for a few more minutes, Fred listening in, and then – at Fred’s suggestion – went downstairs to watch it down there, so I’d be closest to the safest (unwindowed) room in the house, the bathroom. There were reports of tornadoes touching down in various places, but it all bypassed us, thank god. Because having the house ripped down around me? That would have been the perfect end to the month. And we’re only a little more than halfway through it! Have I ever mentioned that it’s always something? * * * Two months with the new email address, and I’ve started getting p0rn email. Argh!]]>

* * * Fred and I were sitting on the couch last night watching TV – Animal Cops, if you must know, and that is one damn difficult show to watch sometimes, especially last week when they had a mother dog and her puppies, and some of the puppies had died. Anyway. We were sitting on the couch watching TV, and reading magazines while we were doing so, and I flipped past an article-type thing entitled “On the Minds of Men” with comments from men under different sections – one section was called “How does your home life compare with what you thought it would be like?” I scanned the comments from men, and then I turned to Fred. “How does your home life compare with what you thought it would be like?” I asked, because I was curious, and also because I know that men tend to hate questions like that. He gave me a fake smile and said “It’s everything I ever dreamed it would be” then turned back to his own magazine. “Don’t be an ass,” I said. “How does it compare?” “Oh, Bessie,” he said irritably. “Don’t start with your crappy woman’s magazine shit! You know men don’t really think about that kind of stuff!” With great pleasure, I held the front of the magazine up so that he could see the cover… The best part? He’d already read the magazine.

* * * I recently finished Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris, and liked it so much that I went to Amazon to see what else she’d written. There was another book in the same series, so I added it to my wish list, and then I discovered that she’d also written Shakespeare’s Landlord, which I’d added to my wish list a few weeks ago on the strength of Marcia‘s endorsement – if someone whose journal I read likes a certain book or series of books, I tend to give them a shot. And for me, giving them a shot means putting them on the wish list and having someone buy it for me for my birthday or Christmas, or waiting until we have some unexpected extra money come in so that Fred and I can buy stuff off our wish lists (what else is disposable income for, I ask you?). And then, because I’m a spoiled rotten American (stupid, too!) instead of keeping the book once I’ve read it, I give it away on the giveaway page so that someone else can enjoy it. I know I should just haul my ass to the library, but I have a zillion books on the bookcase in my bedroom waiting to be read, and I somehow doubt that the library would take kindly to me checking out one of their books and keeping it for months and months until I get around to reading it. It’s just easier this way, and god knows that’s what it’s all about, making it easy for me. As soon as you all accept that, the better off you’ll be.]]>

* * * Yesterday, after lolling in bed until about 9, and then lolling further until almost 10 so I could finish the book I was reading, I got my ass up and started cleaning the bathroom. See, the bathroom’s needed cleaning for at least a week, but I just HATE cleaning it, and so I wait until I can barely stand to look at it before I actually do it. When I was done with all the usual cleaning, I decided to scrub the floor clean on my hands and knees (regular mopping just doesn’t get in the nooks and crannies the way hands-and-knees scrubbing will). While I was down there, I decided further to clean the bottom of the shower door. See, there’s a flap at the bottom of the door that keeps water from going out while the shower’s being used, and when I take baths, I can see that the flap at the bottom needs to be cleaned. It’s the same color as the metal around the shower door – gold, and believe you me, I don’t care for THAT at all – and I could see that mildew had built up. So with a bucket full of ammonia mixed with hot water, I began scrubbing the floor. When I got to the shower door, I scrubbed around the edges, and then opened the door. With a damp rag, I reached under and ran it along the flap. I rapidly discovered that the flap, rather than being gold-colored to match the door, was actually CLEAR PLASTIC, and there was a huge amount of mold and mildew built up on it. We’ve lived in this house for a year and 7 months, and this was the first time I’ve cleaned that flap, and the people who owned it before us lived here for about a year. I would venture a guess that I wasn’t cleaning only our mold and mildew, nosir. And MY GOD was it nasty. It took me three rags to get it all off, and I don’t mind telling you that I don’t particularly want to have to do THAT again. I should have taken pictures, no? And after scrubbing the hell out of the bathroom, I went on to dust and vacuum the entire upstairs. Don’t be too impressed – I took the day off from exercising (after exercising for 7 days in a row), and figured I might as well get some cleaning done, since we’re leaving for vacation Saturday morning, and I don’t want the house to be a total pigsty when the girl who comes to feed the cats comes. This way, all I have to do is some picking up and vacuuming sometime Friday, and we’ll be all set. Stop acting like you’re bored. You KNOW you’re fascinated!]]>

I would never have guessed that she had such a skinny, sticklike arm under there. You have to wonder how she manages to walk around on such skinny little things. (She’s doing fine, by the way. I know you were wondering!)

* * * I was sitting in the living room reading last night after Survivor and before ER came on. We had The Jamie Kennedy Experiment on, which is a show I like, but not one I can just sit and watch, I have to be reading or cross-stitching while it’s on. So I was reading an old issue of People, because when magazines arrive at the house, I toss them in the magazine basket by the couch, and instead of digging to the bottom to read the older magazines first, I tend to just read from the top down. I know the minutiae of my life fascinates you. Don’t try to deny it. Anyway, I read a blurb about Frenchie Davis covering the Grammys as a special Entertainment Tonight correspondent. I turned to Fred, who was staring at the television set. “Hey,” I said. “Did you know that Frenchie covered the Grammys as a special correspondent.” I figured that he did know, because he surfs all the entertainment web sites, and that’s just the sort of information he would have picked up and not told me. He turned and looked at me. “Who?” “Frenchie,” I said. He stared at me, and I could see the gears in his head slowly grinding, grinding, grinding. A light appeared over his head, and he got a wide-eyed, surprised look. “From Grease?!” he exclaimed excitedly. Yeah, don’t look at me. I have no idea what goes on his head, either. * * * Survivor mini-spoiler ahead; skip to the next section if you haven’t seen it yet! So, I was thrilled as hell when they reconfigured the tribe last night, and about the vote, all I can say is that clearly Heidi has some kind of charm or comes across a lot nicer in person than what we’re seeing of her, because I was hoping like hell that her ass would GO. When I realized Heidi would be on a tribe without Jenna and Shawna, I turned to Fred and said, in a whiny, annoying voice, “Awwww. Now she won’t have anybody else to be CUTE with!” Rob’s such an ass, whining about how Dave “Didn’t have MY best interests in mind!” Well, no shit, sherlock. Why should he? Reminder, y’all – next week it’s on Wednesday night instead of Thursday, because of some stupid basketball game. Hmph. * * * 1. Do you like talking on the phone? Why or why not? I loathe talking on the phone, because I hate the long pauses while you’re trying to think of something to say. The only people I can stand to talk on the phone with are Fred, Debbie, and Liz. Everyone else? Sorry, I’d rather get an email. Nothing personal, y’know. 2. Who is the last person you talked to on the phone? Fred. We call each other 45,000 times a day during the week. I asked him if he knew how to spell “minutiae.” 3. About how many telephones do you have at home? One in the living room, one in the kitchen, one in the computer room, two in the master bedroom (one on each side of the bed), one in the spud’s room, and two cell phones. So, that’s a total of 8. Pretty good for someone who hates to talk on the phone, eh? 4. Have you encountered anyone who has really bad phone manners? What happened? I hate it when people constantly space out because they’re watching TV, or constantly talking to someone else, while they’re on the phone with me. I tend to react by pulling out the bitchy “Well, I’ll let you GO, since you’re clearly BUSY.” and getting off the phone as soon as possible. I mean, I understand if you’re in the middle of something and need to go, but DON’T act like you’re wanting to talk to me, just TELL me you have to go. Damn! 5. Would you rather pick up the phone and call someone or write them an e-mail or a letter? Why or why not? Email or letter will always win out, because I can write an email at my leisure, and the person I’m sending it to can read it at their leisure – I don’t have to worry about bugging them when they’re busy. And I sound more intelligent in print. (Oh, shaddup. Heh.)]]>

Poo update: She’s doing well. She’s done the important things – eat, drink, use the litter box – and she’s moving slowly, but a lot better than I expected. She spent all night either perched on top of me or perched atop the pillow next to me. I woke up a million times through the night to check on her, and she was always there, purring and staring at me. Hopefully she wasn’t thinking “Yeah, sleep tight, bitch. When you’re least expecting it, I’m going to kick you in the face with my nasty back claws!” She’s spent the morning alternating snoozing upstairs and coming down to get some love. After I took my shower and settled in the chair upstairs to read for a bit, she climbed up on me and flopped over, so I stayed there for about an hour. Currently, she’s back on the kitty condo, sleeping. Spud update: The spud stayed home yesterday, because she was still feeling nauseous, and spent a good part of the day – the majority of the day, I’d say – sleeping and slurping ginger ale. She actually half-heartedly vomited last night, but come this morning she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and headed off to school. Time for things to get back to normal ’round here, yessirree bob!

* * * Y’know, sometimes I wonder how I make it through the world, clueless as I am. The spud will often start the dishwasher when there’s not a full load of dishes in there – yes, I’ve spoken to her, but she just can’t seem to understand exactly what a full load is – so I’ve gotten into the habit of checking the dishwasher each night after she starts it, and if it’s not full I stop the cycle so that more dishes can be put in there. Last night I checked, and since the bottom rack was about half empty, I turned it off. This morning, I loaded the dishes in the sink in there, and checked to be sure there was an Electrasol tablet in the dispenser. There wasn’t, so I added one, closed the dishwasher and started it. Ten minutes later I wandered back into the kitchen to get a cup of water, and saw a pile of suds on the floor, and more slowly pouring out the bottom of the door. Clearly, there HAD been an Electrasol tablet in there, and now the dishes were being cleaned with twice the amount of soap they needed. It reminded me of the time when I lived in Rhode Island and didn’t have dishwasher soap, so I filled the dispenser with liquid Joy. The floor was pretty much covered in suds that time. But I learned a valuable lesson in that, anyway – ie, don’t use any soap other than the soap made specifically for dishwashers! And this time I’ve learned another valuable lesson, I suppose – do some looking around before you decide to add more soap to the load! * * * Actually, I’ve been doing more than worrying over Miz Poo for the past few days, really I have. For one, I’ve been looking over and completing the paperwork to create a corporation. A corporation so that we can self-publish Fred’s book. It’s a bit of a pain in the ass, because first I had to send off the form to reserve the name of the corporation. Once I get a certificate back from the Secretary of State showing that the name’s been reserved, I have to make copies of and send out the Articles of Incorporation. When we’re officially incorporated, I have to apply for a Federal Tax ID number, and then and only then can we open a checking account for the corporation and deposit the loan check. Yep, pain in the ass. And no, don’t ask what the name of the corporation is – I’ll announce it once we’re incorporated and have a web site set up, which is a few weeks away still. This is the third time I’ve been through the incorporation process, so you’d think I’d remember what to do and where to do it, but I’d be pretty lost without How to Incorporate and Start a Business in Alabama. And now? I’m off to have lunch. Y’all have a good one.]]>

You can’t really tell when she’s laying down, but she’s visibly smaller. Getting some love from the Momma, and wondering what the hell the Daddy is doing (and yes. My thighs look huge from this angle, I’m aware, so you just shaddup). I swear to you she wasn’t in pain when I was holding her up like this. She was purring her ass off – I think she rather liked it. Poor Poo with the shaved belly and the belly full of staples. My poor baby! (And in THIS picture, not only do I have huge thighs and porky fingers, but my leg looks like it’s 6 inches long, max. You want me, admit it.) I got up shortly after Fred left for work this morning, did a few chores around the house, and then headed out to the garage to ride the Ass Master for an hour. I came back into the house after, did a few more chores, checked on the spud (who is still feeling under the weather), and took my shower. I was standing in the bathroom combing my hair when the phone rang. I saw by the caller id that it was the vet’s office, so naturally I picked it up. They told me that Miz Poo (only they call her “Scrappy”, of course) was ready to come home. I dressed quickly and raced to the office, which is only about 3 minutes away. They brought her out while I was writing a check so large it was painful to actually write the numbers ($778, on top of the $300 we had to pay for the emergency room visit on Sunday. Ouch. Thankyajesus for the emergency fund we have stashed away for just such an occasion.). The instant she saw me through the holes in the carrier box, she started howling and howled all the way home. I brought her inside and upstairs before letting her out of the box. I didn’t know if she was in a lot of pain or not, and I didn’t want her to have to climb the stairs if she wanted food or the litter box. I opened the top of the carrier box, and she hopped out, meowing and chirping and purring all at once. She rubbed up against my legs, and I sat down on the floor with her. She crawled between my legs and flopped down, showing me her poor little belly. After ten or fifteen minutes of being petted and told how much she’d been missed, she seemed to suddenly realize “Wait a minute. You took me to that place! You evil bitch!”, and she went into the kitty condo, gave me a look o’ hatred, and settled down for a nap. I folded some laundry, put it away, and cleaned the garage, all the while keeping an eye on her. She continued sleeping, every now and then coming out to stretch and then go back in. Some time later, I was out back filling the bird feeders. It’s a gorgeous day outside, so I left the back door open to let a breeze in, and I looked up to see her coming out the door. She meowed at me, let me pet her a little, and then rolled around in the sun. For the rest of the afternoon, she alternated asking for love and hiding under the couch to sleep. At the moment, she’s upstairs sleeping in a patch of sunlight. She’s had a lot of water, some food, and used the litter box at least once. Lord but it’s nice to have her home! (I promise, entries will go back to normal tomorrow.)]]>

Poo update: (this part is from the end of yesterday’s entry, in case you didn’t go back and check): Update 1:00 pm: I talked to the vet, and Miz Poo will be fine. He didn’t find any string in her intestines, though – what he found was a partial blockage at the top of her colon, where the intestines dump into the colon. There was a lot of fur and “matter”, and apparently the appendix (which isn’t called the appendix in cats, but it’s much the same) was impacted, so he did a partial appendectomy and removed all the hair and stuff, and he feels that she’ll be fine. He thinks that the pain of that partial blockage may be what was making her vomit, and she’s got a long incision that will be tender for a while, but he’s pretty sure she’ll be okay. And today: Fred talked to the vet earlier, who said that Miz Poo is doing just fine. She’s alert and looking around, watching to see what’s going on, which is her natural nosiness coming out I’m sure. He wants to keep her another night so they can keep an eye on her and be sure she gets plenty of fluids and also be sure that she starts drinking water. The house will be empty for another night – when you’re used to having a portly Poo tromp all over you through the night, not having her do so is weird, believe me – but it’ll be worth it if it helps her heal. I have no idea whether there’ll be an entry tomorrow – it’s going to depend on Miz Poo. If she just wants to be left alone to sleep, I’ll leave her alone, but if she wants to lay on me, I’ll lay on the couch with her ’til the cows come home, which isn’t terribly conducive to entry writing. So there might be an entry tomorrow, and there might not. We’ll just have to wait and see! Thanks again for all your good thoughts and kind emails, y’all. I truly appreciate them!

* * * So, after a night spent without Miz Poo jumping across me, snuggling up with me, or occasionally smacking me with her paw to get me to roll over, I woke up and popped in my contacts. My left eye seemed a little troublesome, but I ignored it and came downstairs to get my exercise done and out of the way. After about two minutes on the stationary bike, I decided I wasn’t in the mood for the bike today, and came back inside. Yes, bad. Spank me? I hung around, responding to email, reading a book, making the bed, and finally taking my shower. I had a 9:30 hair appointment, and wanted to leave the house by 9:15. It doesn’t taken 15 minutes to get there, but since I haven’t been on time for a hair appointment in two years – I’m usually about 5 minutes late – I thought I’d show up early and surprise her. I was heading downstairs at 9:12 when the phone rang. “Hi, mom,” said the spud. “Can you come get me? I don’t feel well.” So I raced to the school to pick her up, asked her how she didn’t feel well (stomach hurts, earache, throat hurts, stuffy nose), dropped her off, told her to take Tylenol and go to bed, told her that my cellphone would be off, to call Fred if she had any problems, and raced to my hair appointment, getting there about two minutes late. I was absolutely miserable the whole time I was having my hair done, because my FRIGGIN’ eye was driving me nuts. It had gotten redder and blurrier, and I kept putting drops in my eye, but that was only helping for a few minutes each time. Finally, my hair was done – I had it relayered, but kept the length, but I’m not showing you a picture, because the ones I took didn’t come out well, and I look like a dork in my glasses – and so I ran to the movie store (SwimFan, White Oleander, and Mulholland Drive), ran to the grocery store, and now I’m home. Wearing my glasses. Which I hate. I wouldn’t be surprised if stress didn’t bring on the conjunctivitis, I really wouldn’t. And I hate my glasses (have I mentioned?) and need new ones, but we’ll be paying an arm and a leg for Miz Poo’s surgery (well, maybe just an arm – but it’s worth it for my baby!), so I’ll wait a while before I worry about getting new glasses. So, there. That’s my day so far. I believe I’m going to go have lunch now, so y’all have a good one! * * * Oh, but before I go, I should mention that 7 years ago, Fred and I met online. 7 years! I can’t believe it’s been so long. Happy anniversary, baby! (Y’all can read some mush in the two years ago entry, here. Lucky for me, it all still holds true!)]]>

Update 1:00 pm: I talked to the vet, and Miz Poo will be fine. He didn’t find any string in her intestines, though – what he found was a partial blockage at the top of her colon, where the intestines dump into the colon. There was a lot of fur and “matter”, and apparently the appendix (which isn’t called the appendix in cats, but it’s much the same) was impacted, so he did a partial appendectomy and removed all the hair and stuff, and he feels that she’ll be fine. He thinks that the pain of that partial blockage may be what was making her vomit, and she’s got a long incision that will be tender for a while, but he’s pretty sure she’ll be okay. They’re keeping her overnight, and I have to call in the morning to see if I can pick her up. I am SO relieved, y’all! Thanks for all your kind emails and thoughts – I really appreciate them all!]]>

* * * Last week’s Friday Five. 1. What is your favorite type of literature to read (magazine, newspaper, novels, nonfiction, poetry, etc.)? I prefer novels – suspense, mystery, horror, and (most of all) chick lit. Also known as Zany Chick novels. But I read a lot – a LOT – of magazines, US being my favorite, and People and Marie Claire running a close second. 2. What is your favorite novel? That would be a three-way tie between The Stand, Swan Song, and Good in Bed. 3. Do you have a favorite poem? (Share it!) I do, actually. It’s called From the Journals of the Frog Prince. It’s by Susan Mitchell, and I first read it in a college class ten or more years ago. Something about it immediately captured my imagination. I also love Dirge Without Music, by Edna St. Vincent Millay. And lastly, I really like this A. E. Housman poem, mostly because I memorized it in college (the same class wherein I discovered From the Journals of the Frog Prince, actually) and can still whip off the first 10 or so lines of it. I like the rhythm of it. 4. What is one thing you’ve always wanted to read, or wish you had more time to read? Actually, nothing. If I want to read it, I do. 5. What are you currently reading? Quentins, by Maeve Binchy.

* * * Y’all see Survivor last night? Man-o-man does Heidi have an inflated opinion of her cuteness, or what? I finally – after she’d referred to the fact that she’s so cute angels come to throw roses at her feet for the 28th time in a row – turned to Fred and said “You know, I don’t think she’s cute at ALL.” Fred replied with “She’s not. She’s ass ugly.” He paused. “Ass hole ugly,” he corrected himself. He said that Shawna – despite the whininess – was the best looking one of the three “cute” girls. And then during the Gap commercial, he bitched about how all the women in the commercial were too bony. Heh. * * * Friday Five. 1. What was the last song you heard? I don’t know that I can remember the last song I heard on the radio, but I’ve been humming “Build Me up Buttercup” all morning. 2. What were the last two movies you saw? Uh. Oh, let me think… 1 Hour Photo and Swept Away, I think. That’s right, I rented Swept Away, just because I knew it was going to be awful, and I was right. There was nothing at all original about it, not one single thing. I’d like to see someone make a stranded-on-a-desert-island movie where the man and woman DON’T “fall in love” and fuck like bunnies. Ooh, sorry. Did I ruin the plot for you? 1 Hour Photo, on the other hand was good and creepy as hell from the very beginning to the very end. 3. What were the last three things you purchased? Groceries. Other than that, I don’t know. Maybe lotion. Oh, bird seed! 4. What four things do you need to do this weekend? Take the spud to the eye doctor, go to the mall, force my ass to exercise, vacuum the downstairs. 5. Who are the last five people you talked to? Fred, the spud, Miz Poo, Spanky, and Tubby. What? Cats are people too!]]>