Did you ever notice how everyone else's food taste's better than your own? Why the hell is that?
It's the reason you are DYING to take a bite of something from someone else's plate because it looks good. One of my friends said it was the poison theory. The way we evolved to eat "good" food was that we warily used others as a "test". Like the pengins that knock the unsuspecting little guy off the iceberg to test for killer whales. We want to know if it's poison, and if it isn't, we take it from the weaker dumber animal and eat it for ourselves. The overwhelming urge to "have a bite o'that" comes from this.
Well, it's a theory.
I made beef stew tonight, for tomorrow, and I tasted it and it was good. But my brother's Butterfinger bar? That was better. That is a very insidious candy. I had the last bite, and I swear, I am going to go to bed thinking "I really wish he'd bought an entire halloween bag". But then, you know, you gorge yourself with sugar and it tastes AWFUL. Only when something belongs to someone else, and they deign to share it with you, does the damn thing taste good. If I bought one, and ate it all up alone, it would suck. It would suck absolute ass. It would be disgusting. However, because it belongs to someone else, someone who had finished it all the way to the last little nibble and wanted that last bite, someone who resignedly hands over that last nibble even though they want it for their own self, that's when it tastes PERFECT. I think it's funny that we share even though we don't want to.
Yum. Butterfinger. Don't get your own, steal someone else's.
Last weekend, I went to the Pet Expo. We saw all sorts of things, including a zebra.
This weekend we nearly finished the volcanoes. See? In these photos, we are covering them with tar because the weather looked a bit threatening and we had been putting off the actual "finishing" of them. Now all we need to do is buy the fun foam stuff, and paint it orange and red. Black volcanoes, Home Depot Orange lava. You cannot beat it.
Art Is Fun. Make some.
Also this week and weekend, I watched a ton of movies. I think I sat on my ass more this weekend than many others I've written about. It's getting to be Autumn, so I have a minor excuse.
Mean Machine (remake of Longest Yard with people from Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels, british and great), I forgot the other one we rented for Friday night OH! Kissing Jessica Stein (very well done, sexy and funny), watched Spy Game (don't rent, pretty boring), My Big Fat Greek Wedding (Yes, See this, it's really good just like everyone says), and One Hour Photo (While it's interesting to see R. Williams as a creepy freak-o, it's just a plain old creepy movie and will make you not want to take pictures ever. I didn't like it.) Royal Tennenbaums (Seen already with a boy who "didn't get it", saw it again with Steve and Erica, and was in good company as we all liked it. It's great, see it. Again.)
I am ashamed to admit that I also ate a lot of carbs, but I paid for it in upset tummies every night. Now I'm back to my low carbo diet and feeling slightly better.
I don't want to be at work today. I ran out of coffee and drank tea. Really, there is no substitute for the purity of caffiene in coffee.
Thursday, September 26, 2002
Today, I had a tuna sandwich. And I could only eat half. So, when the toothless man asked me for a quarter, I said "Hey, want a half a tuna sandwich instead?" He said yeah. This morning, a homeless guy (with a very well kept dog and a really great mountaineering pack) asked me for some change for dog food. I was impressed, and said that if I were him, I'd ask Safeway for their dented cans and the Western Feed place for some dog food samples, but that I didn't give out change. He was not happy with me.
I think I will make up some cards for homeless people with some good referral numbers. Until then, I will read this blog by a homeless guy who has been homeless since he was 21, and that was 20 years ago. It's pretty neat. I entirely dig his posts like this one, a very well articulated essay on homeless shelters run by Christian fundamentalist missionaries (that is the biggest complaint I get from people who don't want to go to food banks; they are often run by churches, and at one in the north area of Sacramento, you have to wind around a line maze picking up one food item at a time, while the preacher shouts at you that you are damned unless you accept jesus as your personal lord and savior. This is GWB in action, you know. The Faith Initiative.) Anyway, this guy is neat and feels real to me. I will read often.
Here in Sacramento, there is a homeless guy who writes weird rambling essays called "USA Against Racism" and leaves them on boxes and chalked into sidewalks and people have started collecting them. I've never seen one in it's natural environment, but apparently I walked over the chalk today and didn't even notice. Bad amelie.
So, I just had a meeting with my "personal financial advisor" who I bought my employer assisted mutual funds through. He will also get together with me and help me plan my debt decision making. I've been thinking about this stuff a lot lately.
We figured out the compound interest over 34 years, and I will be a millionaire if I keep going with what I'm doing. Of course, by then, a million won't "be a million", so needless to say, I will have to increase my investments by about 50% more each paycheck.
This both surprised me (the magic of compound interest creating 65 year old millionaires) and disheartened me (as money I have so little of now means so much to me...especially when I want to buy a new skirt or whatnot). I don't know what else to say about this. I think I will request a forebearance on my school loans for this year, and just save money because I don't make enough to actually PAY them yet.
As for yesterday. I went home after work (and this is boring, so stop reading if you can't stand a little boring thing about me) and I changed into some shorts (because it's still way over 90 degrees here) and I TORE into my yard like you wouldn't believe. The roommates have inspired me by tidying up the side yard on one side. So, I pruned all the sucker branches off the ancient decrapitated plum trees that I don't like, and killed all their babies that are growing sporadically in the "grass". I say "grass" because really, it's not. It's weeds. But we trim them down every so often. I am thinking "Maybe I will be inspired to scrape it all off and start anew" but do you know how much time and energy that takes? More than I can muster, let me tell ya.
I did discover that the discouragingly hard looking clay like soil on the north side of the house was actually quite soft and muddy once I wetted it down. It also smelled fairly rich and earthy, inspiring me to immediately plant some sage and poppies in it so they can establish themselves before it gets too cold. I also found a tomato on the sidewalk, and squished it into the soil as well. That's the only way tomatoes grow you know. By accident or by plain old squooshing. If you actually try to plant them, from seed packets or from a nursery 6 pack, they die. Not that I care so much, as I don't even like fresh tomatoes. But I'm trying. It's on my list of things I need to start to like, for example "eggplant". It's a very unfortunate vegetable. It looks pretty and tastes disgusting. Some kind of cosmic joke?
As I was working so diligently in the yard, my dog escaped. My fault, of course. I didn't close the gate all the way. Panic ensued when I discovered the disappearance. I lost it. I was calling out forlornly with tears streaming. He came back, but man, I was torn up with panic. I gave him a bath and a cookie and told I loved him and said "DON'T F*CKING DO THAT TO ME AGAIN." Like it's his fault I left the gate open. Bad mama.
I made the bass last night. I lightly sauteed the filets in olive oil and a fish seasoning. I peeled the skin off. I ate it with cabbage and bell peppers. It was white and had a lot of bones. I found a long suspicious white thing in one of the filets, it looked very wormish, but definitely cooked. I made a promise to myself not to look up large mouth bass parasites till AFTER I ate the thing. I was going to eat more, but my roommates came home and said "What the heck? It smells like period in here." That effectively killed my appetite. I didn't think about food again till 8 AM this morning, that's how effective that comment was.
I ate one filet and it was good. The rest made it out to the garbage as today was garbage day.
Wednesday, September 25, 2002
This post has been deleted due to weirdness.
To the LOOSER the spoils... IF YOU ALREADY RESPONDED TO THIS AD PREVIOUSLY PLEASE
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this is in or around Tenderloin Area
Erica found her....Want her? She is going to Rottie Rescue, soon, hopefully... She is a project dog, very non socialized, and is likely pregnant. But very sweet with people (she's definitely a one person dog), and you need to have NO kids and NO other dogs or cats. She was found in weeds in Sloughouse. Dying in the sun.
But we knew this. Eh. I have no preference for vinyl. I am not a freak collector, though I appear to have a load of friends who are. Anyway, it was a funny quiz. One of the funnier ones.
"You're just too cool for school, aren't you? You're pretty narrow minded and opinionated with regards to music (and probably most other things as well). But you're allowed to be, because you really are better than everyone else. You take pride in obscurity. You probably prefer vinyl too, you elitist bitch."
My beautiful, brilliant amiga from Brazil (who is also a Virgo) has disappeared... So Sad!
Oh, MAN. So has my pal emogirl.
I feel like if I had just read their blogs more often, they'd have stayed around. This disheartens me. I cannot imagine deleting my journal. It is precious to me. It's my thoughts, and I, ahem, have so many. They just swell up and jump out of my fingers. I am not a sufferer of writer's block by any means. Of course, my journal is not assigned by a teacher either, so I fling my thoughts onto the screen with reckless abandon.
But I miss those gals! So sad. And here I was, learning some portuguese...
I had another weird weird dream. My evening was otherwise nice, had my friend Heather over as I missed her bridal shower on Saturday. I must say, Target stores, while having a great selection of things to register for, are a mess.
I bought her the wrong thing even though I checked the sku number on the display tag. (Un)fortunately, there were 3 in a row of the "Green Fantasy" photo albums lined up in their appropriately labeled spot, and I got all excited kind of like winning a prize (as it matched the pattern on the blue fantasy, even) due to this item being where it was supposed to be. I'd had no luck with any of her other choices. Mind you, I'd been talking to myself for a good 5 minutes finding something I thought looked right, only to find a scratch or some kind of funkiness wrong with it. Each time, I'd shout "Balls!" or "Drat it all!" so that the woman next to me moved sideways and found a frame in another part of the aisle.
Therefore, she got the photo album I could find, in that beautiful moment. And, as the lady on the register who took FOREVER to ring me up said, "You got the wrong one. See?" and she showed me the gift registry sku in little coded numbers under the scanable bar code. 2 were different. Ugh. I'd bought the GREEN SWIRL. Not the Green FANTASY. I bet the stupid Fantasy version was where the swirl was supposed to be. Always check the sku on the back of the item, no matter where the item is located, even if it's where it says it's supposed to be and everything else matches. Disappointing, Ugh. Well, she liked it anyway. We all ate low carb fajitas and you know? They are pretty good! Poor Steve. He was forced to eat them 2 nights in a row (we cleaned a fish the night before, a big bass, but I didn't have the time to cook up the filets). I have to say, though, Yum.
I also drank too much wine for my new, healthy lifestyle. I am a little embarassed at how kooky and drunk I was on 2 glasses. Oh, and half a beer. Because I spilled the rest. I think.
So the dream. It was about me, my best friend Regina, and her baby, Andrez (they are coming to visit this week, hurrah!). We were walking across this body of water (greyish brown scenery, no trees, lots of weird thin metal buildings like docks or something). The water is pretty boring, it doesn't look that deep, so it would hurt if you fell or dived in after a baby. We are on a bridge, very flat, high up. It has wooden slats that you can't fall through, but the sides of it have these weird cables that stretch out over the water to another plank/walkway that is uncovered. I kept saying "The baby could fall through that" because Regina was letting him grab each cable and creep his feet to the next set, while standing away from us on the plank. She said "shhh...let's see what he does". She was very proud, because her baby has a disorder called spina bifida (in real life) and even though he is a brilliant little booger, at nearly two he is still creeping around things and not running like other kids his age. Although he is totally adjusted. Anyway.
So. Other people are also on this bridge. There is a woman, a small older asian woman, the kind you see doing tai chi in the park, she is behind the baby, doing the same thing he is. (Okay, she is wearing icky old style sweats, the kind with stripes down the legs and a zip up jacket to match. How bizarre is it that I dreamed her outfit, and then noted it negatively in my dream?) I think she is trying to protect him, but he fell anyway.
Only to land on another bridge below us, perfectly fine. Like some bizarre donkey kong game where the steel bars move under your feet.
Okay. That was not a very good, satisfying, sleepy dream. Although technically, it wasn't *bad*.
My lunch today consisted of spinach, raspberries, london broil, and 1/3 of a cup of rice. I am jam packed with full. I didn't know eating so damn healthy could be so damn easy. Plus, I was going to eat my raspberries separately, but I dumped them on the salad. Guess what? No dressing needed, and still within my low carbohydrate limits! By the way, I got diagnosed very recently with a condition that wreaks havoc with my endocrine system, all areas of it actually. I've suffered for years. So it's nice to know what I finally have. I am awaiting all the final test results (so far everything is showing up in high normal, which makes sense, since I am not quite diabetic yet, still awaiting the insulin to come back), and trying to find out more about this disorder. It's pretty rare, I am finding, though it is a leading cause of infertility in women. Lovely. I thought STDs and old age were the main causes. Nope. A screwy endocrine system is the big one. Screw it, I'm going to kill it before it kills me. That's all I have to say about it. If I think of anything else that is yummy to eat, I will post it. Also, if you have specific questions about what I have, email me. I'm still a little bit nervous about it all, but I may answer a genuine concern if you are having one about your own health weirdnesses.
Sunday, September 22, 2002
I spent the weekend with my friend Chie, who travels a lot so I'm lucky I got to see her. She had a meeting in NYC on 9/11 (okay, what company would DO that? Require travel etc.?) Anyway, she sat next a a woman and her baby. The woman told Chie she was going on Ricki Lake to disclose that her husband really wasn't her son's father. Left a bad taste in Chie's mouth, that's for sure. Then, on last weekend, she was scheduled to come home. She woke up with this feeling of dread, and tried to switch planes. Couldn't. So, she got on the 8:30 AM plane from NYC to Oakland. About 1 hour from Oakland, the pilot informed the passengers that they would be making an emergency landing, something was wrong with the landing gear. Immediately, everyone grabbed the phones on the plane, to discover they didn't work. The stewardess said "After 9/11, our plane phones were dismantled. Also, please don't use your cell phones, they interfere with our communications systems."
by now, Chie was kicking herself for not taking a different flight. They circled SFO because Oakland was too small. They prepared for a water landing. All the other planes had to be in the air before they attempted a crash landing. Suddenly, two escort planes were on each side of their jet. Chie about threw up. These were rescue planes. They were also to guide the plane in.
Chie grabbed 2 pillows, one for her knees and one for her face, and curled into a ball on her seat.
She doesn't remember anything about the landing except that it hurt and it was bumpy and loud. They didn't end up in the water, but were really close, I guess. Later, they found out the landing gear was missing a tire/wheel, and that IT HAD BEEN NOTICED by groundcrew when they took off from the airport in New York. And the pilot had known 45 minutes into the flight when air traffic control contacted him. The best part of this, of course, is how the flight attendant told them not to use their phones. I'd've said "Fuck You."
And called my mommy.
Next week, Chie goes to the Netherlands. I will keep you posted on whether or not I hear another fascinating landing story.
Today, Sacramento AIDS Walk with Seamas, and the Pet Expo!
Friday, September 20, 2002
Ally always tells me that no one is normal, just varying degrees of abnormal. I think of it as sane and cosane waves.
Last night was pretty cosane.
Oh, it started off great. Made a big healthy dinner (because I have to do these things now) for 3 (because Erica canceled) and after Ally left, she called to say "Go outside and look at the moon" while Steve was on the phone with our friend's girlfriend, Sarah. I was on my way to the moon, when Steve said quietly, "Dave just had a seizure. We have to go now."
We met Dave's sister in the driveway. She looked panicked. There was a fire truck and paramedics at the scene. Sarah was in the ambulance, we jumped in Cary's car with her and followed. We could see Dave sitting up.
We sat with Sarah comforting her, because apparently it was really terrifying. We were in the ER until 11 or 12, and more of their family and friends came. You know how much I love lovely people, well, these are a bunch of them. Very concerned, very loving.
Dave is a wiseacre, and very funny, but in March of 2002, he was attacked brutally, robbed, and left for dead. He stumbled home, passed out for 2 days, and his friends got him to the hospital only to discover that his brain was bleeding in three places from the trauma. He doesn't remember a thing, but spent a long time in the ICU. His injuries have been, up to now, causing him headaches nonstop. They said he "may" have seizures. And he had one, a bad one. Poor Sarah! Poor Dave-o!
Anyway, I remember trying to make everyone feel better with my fairly limited knowledge by answering what questions I could, but I remember saying "They will give him barbiturates" in a few conversations. I meant "phenobarbitol." Boy. I wonder what barbiturates would do?
Anyway. I cheered myself up by telling Steve about a cat who lost her kittens, so she adopted the puppies of a beagle who rejected her own. I saw a video of the cat nursing these little baby puppies, totally content, and boy they were going for the milk like nobody's business. It was so cute.
And like magic, I swear my friends are magic,
Erica sends me this:
The alpha deer: Muemue, a fallow deer fawn, leads a pack of greyhounds
in Kecskemet, Hungary. The fawn, born three months ago in the
Kecskemet Game Park, was not tolerated by other animals, so a keeper gave him to a new greyhound mother to nurse with her own puppies. Muemue will be reunited with his own family in about a month.
So, I said I was going to write down dreams I remembered.
This one, at least, I can see where I was influenced.
I get into my car, and notice wobbling. I get out, front driver tire, totally flat, right rear tire, going flat. I get back in my car. I tell myself it's not too far to drive to get home. Sacramento is sometimes labyrinthine in its one-way streets, I am driving and suddenly I am forced onto a fwy onramp, a weird one that no one else is going on. It's evening, maybe night.
I get to the end of the one lane onramp, a curved raised ramp that comes down the other side, there is a guardwall to my right pinching me over to the left, I come around the curve where it ends...
There is a woman crouching in pale clothes. I immediately register her as homeless. There are two men in pale clothes behind her, they are not as prominent. She is holding a big naked baby, she puts it on the onramp where I am coming slowly to a stop. She is crouched like she is changing the diaper. She stands up, her hair is on top of her head in one of those pony tail upsweeps I can't figure out if I like or don't like, she's blond.
She comes up to my car window, which is down.
Suddenly, she raises her hand and there is a dart in it. She throws it into my left side neck/shoulder area and it is quickly followed by 3 more jolting, painful darts into my neck/shoulder.
I sit up in bed at 5:30 AM running the dream through my head.
I figure it's from reading Moe's blog, having the flat this weekend, and looking at the silly ninja site. Also because I was approached by homeless people outside of Rite Aid last night.
I understand homelessness. I hate that there's nowhere to sleep. But I also hate getting asked for change. I just don't give it. Homeless people are like pigeons to bread crumbs, they can't help it. I used to carry cards with all the social services that could be easily reached by someone who was hungry or tired. But I don't carry them anymore, most people approach me at night after all the shelters are closed to new intakes. Sigh.
Wednesday, September 18, 2002
More on Mini-Cows!!!!
Holy moley! They are coming to Sacto! Well.... One is. A steer, actually. Named "Sir Loin".
I had a momentary lapse of sanity and bought a Mini-Moo. He's 33"
tall, 10 months old. Maybe not the smartest thing I've done, but should be interesting.
He will be delivered in November. Then there will be a "Mini-Moo Shower".
Couldn't you just DIE???
Check him out here. Scroll down to the Lawnmowers section, and see the one with the red word "SOLD" under him. (note: fences they are standing next to are ~4' high. i.e., average woman's chest level.)
How cute is THAT!
I wet my pants. Then,
Okay, here is a new site for me. I have to check things like this out lately. But luckily, I can drink brandy! Stock up, Ed, cuz I'm comin' to Halloween!
There is this site...about ninjas...that is getting loads and LOADS of visitors because of people like me. Who link it. Please understand I do this because it cracked me up. Not so much the actual site itself, because it is silly and is meant to be silly. What killed me were the comments on the Hate Mail link, which is so dumb that I am wondering if the author didn't write them all himself to go along with the site? The internet is so amazing. Anyway, I linked. I so needed a good giggle.
My guess it's a dotcommer still outta work who somehow has a sense of humor.
I really couldn't believe this when I read it.
Some parents up north killed their kid with water toxicity. I wrote about it recently, but really. Do you KNOW how much water it takes to kill you? A f*ckload. Those people need to be neutered, spayed, and disallowed the adoption option.
Monday, September 16, 2002
Got a very unpleasant diagnosis on Thursday. Went to pick up meds today, doctor hasn't put in for the Rx. Nice, non? Fired my primary care physician. She's ridiculous. All my problems are interrelated and I finally know what it is and now I just need to line up the right doctors to help me deal with it. May I just say, my days of feeling like a hypochondriac are over?
As for the rest of my weekend, got sick Friday night. Thought I wouldn't be able to go camping, but then was completely better by the next morning, so we went. And it was nice! Medicine Lake up near the Oregon Border (we could see Mt. Shasta's East facing side). I got pix and forgot to upload them last night. SO tired. It felt like we'd been gone for days instead of just overnight.
Dumb ass I am. Left the site without totally putting out the campfire. DON'T DO THIS. Make damn sure it's out. I said "Steve, is this good?" He said "Yeah." So, even though I'd put like a ton of dirt on it and some water, guess what? Wind blew off the dirt and the fire restarted. MAJOR fire hazard. So. I'd filled out the little card with "Dunno car license number. Here's my cash. Big red ford truck. It belongs to the boy."
Luckily, while we were sitting at the Lava Tubes Visitor Center above Tulelake, frustrated because you can't take dogs into the nice cool caves (you have to leave them outside in the hot car, I said "Screw That. Let's go!", the forestry folk hunted us down thanks to my nice card description. We got a ticket for $270. I said I'd pay half. Apparently, from overhearing the lecture Steve got, you are supposed to be able to stick your hand in the firepit without fear of being burnt. The exact instructions, as he was getting the ticket were "Water, Stir, Feel". Bam. $270. And we deserved it. But it still sucks. And it just proves that safety conscious people can still make mistakes. I mean, I COVERED that fire.
Then, we decided to leave for home. Because really, $270, that puts a damper on your day, and it was already sunday. And sundays suck because they lead to monday.
So, we started driving home. I had noticed that morning when I was building the naughty fire that the truck tire was low. Really low. Tire foam was used, and we were driving on it. But then we decided to stop in Redding. May I just recommend quickly the car center at the Redding Walmart? It was the only place open that day, also the only place Steve would go anyway. The chubby guy there was SOOO NICE, I couldn't believe it. He got us in and then back on the road in 30 minutes. I was impressed. Dirty, shaken, substantially poorer, and full of smoke. Seamas, Steve and I got home just fine thanks to Walmart. I can't believe I just wrote that, after all the crap I got for simply mentioning Starbucks. But I'm not ashamed of the truth!
Did I mention how much my dog liked camping? He was so tired, he passed out in the tent and didn't even notice the deer cropping grass near my head in the wee hours of the morning. I kept saying "What if it's a badger? What if it's a rabid skunk?". It wasn't. It was definitely deer. We saw lots of them. And a roadkilled bear. Not often you see that! But we were going so fast, I couldn't get a picture. Actually, that might be in bad taste. It was a small bear. Poor bear.
Friday, September 13, 2002
Congrats to Mighty Girl! What nice news to read. And I don't even KNOW them.
Ate tuna sandwich in the park, Capitol Park. Threw tomatoes at the squirrels.
Don't do that on a Friday the 13th.
The coworker who was with me got attacked by a squirrel and had to go to the doctor for rabies shots. I was still whining about my own problems when she jumped up screaming to shake the damn thing off her arm. Not too bad, but bleeding from the scratches. Yet another reason not to eat eggplant. That's what it was after!
Thursday, September 12, 2002
I said a BOOM Chicka boom...
Meet My Friend Dre. She is a 21 year old phenom. She sings about love and passion and violence and sex and friendship and sadness and melancholy and anger and inspiration and all that jazz. Honest. If you like Jonatha Brooke, or Dar Williams, or Tracy Chapman, or even Ani, you will love her. Promise. I adore this gal! Go see her if you like folk music or just want something melodic, intense, original and not pop.
...chicka ROCKA chicka ROCKA chicka
Found Kittens!!! They were snagged by a neighbor, who decided she couldn't take them in, and that the neighbor across the street should have them. Okay, so, new nice neighbor Melanie took them in last night, and she went looking for the owner this morning. I came home early to search for them, and we passed each other like 3 times on the street. Finally, I was home when she came by, as she had gone to the thrift store Todd used to visit, and I had just been there complaining about how people in this neighborhood steal cats. So, she was sent to my house and there I was, hugging her, kissing the kittens, and keeping them away from Seamas who loves to chase them.
They Are Very Cute. My new pal Summer adopted both of them, but may need to let the boy kitty go to another home if 2 kitties is just too much...
Kittens are not showing themselves, but all the food I left out was eaten and the bed they made was messed with.
I sprained my dumb ankle looking for them late last night with no flashlight.
cuz I'm an idiot.
I can hear Wagner in the other room, because I have tuned my clock radio alarm to the classical station (it wakes me up, and no news to make me whine).
I think it is The Ride of the Valkyries, whatever piece that is. I will always think of Conan The Barbarian when I hear it. Always. Even when it's some other movie. Conan. I loved that movie. I watch it every year, it's so cheesy and bloody and funny. I mean, how many Sumerian Period Films are there, anyway? 1!!!
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
so, I found some kitties today. Technically, my new office mate found the kittens. I took them home. What else could I do? Yes, they had flea collars, but they were covered in fleas, had bones showing and little shrunken bellies. And they looked so forlorn on the sidewalk, two babies, very trusting. I picked one up to feel it's bones, and it started purring. And then I picked up the other one, and it had 6 toes, a teenier one. crap.
I took them home and fed them and am making fliers. The plan? To take them to the shelter or find them loving homes if no one claims them from my fliers. Although, I have to say that I am really mad at people who take on the responsibility of a pet, and just throw it outside in the 100+ weather, with no food or water and no shelter. Of course, I had to set them up in crates outside my house in the front yard. Due to the fact that I have a dog and 3 cats already indoors, and boy oh boy, can you imagine 5 cats, 1 dog, and 4 people? I can't. It felt not quite right to leave them outside. I felt awful, but they are fed and when I went to the grilled cheese and tomato soup party, they were lolling about in the grass, with fresh Advantage on their necks and I even swiped them with Cat Wipes, the "Alternative to Grooming". For cats that aren't good at cleaning themselves. Not that I have any cats like that, but I bought it for the "in case" and now I had to use them. On two baby kitties.
And now, of course, they are MIA. But it's nighttime and I'm thinking they are hiding all snuggled up under the house. So, I'll look for them in the AM.
The party was really fun. Nice people. I love nice people.
Here's one of the people I met tonight. I about died reading some of his pranks and trickeries. This, my dears, is a guy with a funny idea who goes out and says "I will take my funny idea, and share it with the world." Or he asks a question, and says "Why, I will find out the answer MYSELF!" and then he shares it with the planet. He is a mastermind of hilarious harmless subterfuge and funny quests. As I understand it, one can spend days on his site. I love it. I love nice people, I tell ya.
I am not sad today.
I am supposed to be, yahoo is certainly in mourning. But I'm not.
I have a big bottle of water, I'm going to a tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich anti-media party tonight, I watched Today this morning and I didn't even get a watery eye.
I work upstairs from a peace coalition, they were wrestling big umbrellas and coolers out the door so that they can sit and protest the ongoing violence in Iraq. I just stepped over a baby in a carseat and a big peace sign when I came to work, I felt nothing. They protest in vain anyway. Seems weird to bring your baby out in 90+ degree weather.
Am I numb, or is everyone else just dumb?
I say we call it september 11th like normal. I say if we are going to make a big deal out of it, add it to the holidays, and shut down the airports in memorium. I say, get to know your freaking neighbors, don't report them (unless of course, they are cooking crack next door, then report them. That stuff not only stinks, it's flammable). I say, red white and blue are awkward colors to wear all together in one outfit. I say the nicest thing we could do is make September 11th a half day, and set it up so there are block parties and dancing in the street and flowers get picked and people sit on porches talking about "back then" and drinking lemonade. Sure, visit people who have died tragically at their final resting spot. I'm okay with that, so long as it's EVERYONE who has ever died tragically. Throw a rose on the water and blow a kiss.
And yet, I want to go spelunk around the WTC remains...it's crazy looking, all that exposed underground parking! Does that make me a bad person?
I just feel like bad stuff happens to people all the time. What makes the fact that someone's mom died when a plane hit her office and vaporized her worse than the mom who got hit by a car? Is it because they all died at once? Hmm. We took out Hiroshima and Nagasaki with planes. They all died at once, bam, vapor. We don't exactly celebrate with lillies and speeches. People die in flash floods all the time, we don't memorialize them. Okay, granted, floods aren't murder, but still. Death happens. It's one of the few things that you can be certain. It sucks to die in pain, alone, or in fear. I worry for people who are dying, I don't worry for the dead. They're okay now. Seems like the flash of death is much nicer than the woeful painful dragging out of a long chronic illness. I feel bad for the people who were trapped and slowly suffocated. That had to be horrible. And I understand the horror. I watched the TV that day too. It takes some healing. But the hate? The "We will kill you, Iraq. We will get you, Afganistan. We will wipe out the scourge of Islam. Report your darker neighbors. Forget that the bill of rights exists. Forget the constitution. But let us read from the Declaration of Independence at the Memorial Service lest you forget also that you live in the USA. Where all are equal."
Maybe I'm just a big huge jerk! Maybe I should feel more emotion, but mostly what I feel is disgust. I had no contact with any of the dead. My friend's face disappeared from the news the minute the planes hit, and I was glad. I was worn out.
I will not be haunted by the trumpet player playing Taps on the edge, the brink, of the foundation of the WTC, over the crowd. That was so media manipulated.
Even if it was very pretty and sad.
~amelie la scourged who needs a caffienated beverage.
Tuesday, September 10, 2002
I am pleased to say popupcop works great so far. I can also open up blogs that pop up, no problemo.
here is the email sent to me by Pyra (see if you can get on the ftp program, I certainly cannot)
We have upgraded your site, amelielabonne.blogspot.com to Blog*Spot
Plus25. Your card has been charged US$10.00. This includes the $5.00 setup
fee. Your card will be charged $5.00 on this day each month. You can
cancel at any time. But you must cancel at least three days before the
charge date to avoid being charged for the next month.
The charge will show up on your credit card statment as from PYRA LABS.
Your transaction ID: XXXXXXX (Please send this if you have any
questions about the charge.)
Save this information for your records. Your initial blog's settings
have automatically been changed, but you'll need this information to set
up more blogs at this site or to FTP other files.
You may login to: ftp.blogspot.com with the username and password below.
Here's what they sold me: it doesn't seem to work.
here is the answer to my FAQ: wow. useless. I have no idea what I need to do now.
Nothing in this world works properly.
~Amelie, who once dropped an iron on her head and thought she'd been shot.
I'm having a little trouble with the fact that I am in a high tax bracket...So, I figured it out at married income 45200 and 45201. If you were, for example, to have a salary of 45201, you would net about 34770.73, minus outta that your social security and other important stuff (approximately 9% of gross) and you would be taking home a total of 31660.25 got it? okay...you know where this is going...the couple that has an income of 45200 takes home a total of 34815. Interesting, non? It's not including kids or even state taxes. That's strictly all fed. 1 dollar makes you crazy. How do people live off this stuff?
I'm pretty frustrated. I just upgraded my blog and paid money so I don't have to host fotos elswhere and FTP them onto iffy hosting sites like yahoo. And guess what? The Blogger FTP doesn't work for blogspotters. Whatever. It SAYS I can use it, and gave me a code.
But hey, no ads!
I also added a search program for this site, because I'm silly. I also downloaded popupcop from the search site. It rocks for 30 days, I guess. It stops all things annoying. Nearly.
It's a nice treat.
~Amelie Est Ad-Gratis!
Being the severe hypochondriac that I am, I have been looking up every sort of ridiculous thing that has ever happened to me that has landed me in the hospital or caused doctors to display perplexed headscratching/headshaking movements...and sometimes they just say "Wow, you really ARE a klutz, man oh man!"
Age 2. My first spanking. I ate all the chocolate dipped fruit flavored candy sticks that they thought would be kept safe from a toddler. Unfortunately, I was a very ambitious toddler, and climbed a chair onto the fridge. Then I ate all the candies watching the 3 stooges. It was a saturday morning. I tossed all the little plastic wrappers behind the couch and stuffed the container under it. Outta sight outta mind. I got spanked immediately upon my dad's awakening.
Age 2, bit a thermometer after someone said explicitly "Don't Bite Down". The rest of my memory on this is vague. I remember blood, a toilet and someone slapping my head. I think they were trying to get me to spit all the glass out.
Age 3, running in patent leather black mary janes in my pretty dress, on concrete, downhill. I skidded my own nose off. I vaguely remember this. There are pictures of me with a bad haircut (due to gum) and a red raw looking nose. I said to my mom when I found them, "Hey, did I skid my nose off on a sidewalk once? I sort of remember that!" My mom doesn't believe how far back I can remember, but I can. J, you know how good a memory I have for random things. You can vouch!
Age 5, mom kicks chair, it hits tinker toy set, lid flies off like a metal frisbee, splits my eyebrow open. Yeah. Stitches. Mom was embarrassed and felt like a child abuser, but really, I mean really, we were moving from Biloxi to Sacramento, she was 10 months pregnant with my brother, and the Air Force had packed all our toys up (so we took them all out. All of them. All. She lost it and kicked one, and that was that. I was hiding in the closet behind a toychest with my sister when it happened, I just popped my head up to see what she had kicked, and bam. Stitches.)
Age 6 hairline fracture, left wrist
Age 6.5, cast off, break left arm FOR REAL, knock off growth plates (which luckily grew back on) and pisiform bone (waah. It didn't grow back. I have no pisiform bone.) My wrist eventually grew to be nearly the size of my right, and my arm is normal length. My hand is smaller than my right. growth plates are mysterious little things. I was in hospital overnight, drugged of course. Got a bag of M&Ms and new short pajamas that would fit over the cast.
Age 7, fall rollerskating, break left arm again, dammit.
Age 10, ride bike, fall funny, SNAP LEFT ARM in HALF, both the ulna AND the radius. Landed me in the hospital overnight twice with arm in some sort of weird metal sling, got myself loaded on narcotics.
Age 12 or 13 Water Toxicity Unbelievable. I drank a lot of iced tea and ended up in the emergency room. It was really one of my most beautiful moments. Not. They were really worried about me.
And then nothing too weird for a couple of months, thankfully. Except the normal stuff like puberty and chicken pox. Oh yeah, I got the worst case of chicken pox my pediatrician at the time had ever seen. I ended up in the hospital, but they only kept me for observation. I had them on the back of my throat, in my ears, in unmentionable parts, it was horrible. I got them late, age 14. They think that's why it was so bad, because I'd gone so long without exposure, so it was like when people get shingles or something. Very painful. Anyway, I have speckles of little white scars like everyone else. At least that's normal. I never get cold sores, though.
And then I went skiing Winter, age 14. Number 48 on this man's list happened to me. No one pulled me in, I fell about 15 or 20 feet and then planted in a hillside. I guess it's pretty rare. Nothing bad happened, I was really lucky. I stood up and yelled "I'm Okay!" after hearing the dreadful audible gasp of a hundred skiiers above me as I assessed my toe wiggling abilities in the deep powder and could see the guys in black with the orange stretcher thingy slaloming towards me full speed. Lesson learned: when you swing your newbie skis on the lift, talking to your pal, saying "I wonder what it would be like to fa--", you will probably fall. So lucky, because some people die. I read about a girl in Utah who strangled hanging from the lift (okay, ouch!) and this woman's father died. Oh yeah, I've never been skiing again. But I'd try it.
Age 16, one week, Junior year, before the weekend of the school fair where I was supposed to sing the stone's "Get Offa My Cloud" and play the air drums with our air band, I started noticing a very rapid weight loss. I kept saying to my best friend at the time "Hey, I lost like 4 lbs yesterday." Every day. To which she said "Wow! That's Great!" and she still apologizes to this day when I remind her. I was also suspiciously not hungry or thirsty, made more pronounced by the fact that I pee all the time, and I suddenly during that week, I never had to leave class and I could sit through movies. I was soooo happy. I didn't feel weird at all. Nothing to make me suspect (well, now if it happened I'd certainly worry). And then Friday happened. I woke up vomiting. A Lot. And it didn't stop. And my parents, both medical types, didn't worry. Until they started to measure, and took my blood pressure, and they freaked.
So, I ended up in the hospital for two nights during the school fair, with stuff pumping me full again. I was, of course, severely dehydrated. Nicely done. Since then I have had freakish bouts of "moderate" dehydration due to more normal things that could be traced back to an illness. That time, it was freakish and totally avoidable had I been halfway educated.
Age 17, hit head on wall in pool during backstroke. Coach did not notice. Concussion under water. Amy Golsong, my hero, pulled me out and turned me on my side so I could vomit water, which I did, copiously. She drove me home to her house, since I couldn't drive at all. My dad picked me up. I was okay, but not allowed to swim for the school anymore. Consequently, I have been slightly chubby ever since. They did not sue on my behalf, I am still irritated.
And I think I made it through another year or so of relative health and accident free. Unless I forgot something.
Age 18, Spring Break. I ate a cookie at someone's 21st birthday party. I hadn't felt good all day, sort of out of it, didn't eat much for probably 2 days before the Dreaded Thing Happened. That night: my stomach went crazy. I ran a really high fever. The parentals found me sleeping feverishly on the floor of the bathroom with my torso curled around the toilet. My dad initially thought I had been drinking. Nice. Nope. I was infected with the nasty shigella. Me, and the guys in the trenches during WWII. Bacterial dysentery. They should say "Run crazy high fever, dehydrate, and shed lining from your intestines in large amounts, scare your parents and feel like you want to die". Seems pretty harmless when you read about it here....(while I was reading the harmless description, a really funny pop up for conjunction junction came on and scared me. It went away, but I was totally singing along). All I know is, I ended up in the hospital again on a drip, and someone looked up inside of me and I cried. It was awful. I remember the gasteroenterologist was from Pakistan and had a nicely distracting accent. I remember my mom was really worried and was happy when my fever "broke" down to 104. After hours at 108. Okay, nice way to go, at least you hallucinate. Anyway, I recovered. But it took the entire spring break, and can I just say, I feel cheated still?
Age 21, home for Xmas, December 26, 1992. Stopped on freeway, it's raining. Yep. Car Accident at P street offramp on the I 80 (back then it was called "Business 80", now it's called "Capital City Freeway " (sic).) Why yes, I was the one in the volvo who was the first one hit. I braced when I saw the headlights, as there was nowhere to go, I was stopped and the last one in line. I remember the first bang, I was so ready. And then I crashed into the car in front of me as the car behind me pushed me to the lane on the left. And then I saw how many cars were affected. I counted 5 in my lane. Then, I got hit again. AGAIN! Can you believe it? by then, I was really freaked out. 4 cars crashed next to me. 2 cars were crashed behind me. 5 cars in front of me. That's 11 cars. Plus me. I got taken to the emergency room in an ambulance. I started thinking, "Okay. Maybe there is something somewhere trying to kill me."
By age 22 I had had a freak episode of insomnia, but it was not to end. I had many more. And then, one day, also I believe at age 22, I caught on fire. I don't know how it started, but I had just turned off the stove and was standing in the kitchen dunking my tea. I suddenly had a flash of hot feeling. I remember saying "Wooh, It's HOT in here. Aren't you guys hot? It's so HOT" I saw steam, but attributed it to the tea. Finally, one roommate tore herself from that week's episode of Friends, and yelled "Oh My God! TAKE YOUR SWEATER OFF!!! YOU'RE ON FIRE" as she leapt over the couch to save me. By the time she'd managed to leap the couch, I'd whipped my sweater off and was beating out the flames on the kitchen floor. Right then I decided that definitely, God was trying to kill me. Later, I attributed it to too much fabric softener (it's still up for debate, the flames were definitely chemical looking according to my roommates who saw them. Rings of blue pulsing all over me. I didn't see them. I was too busy saying "Wooh, it's HOT" and pumping my sweater while I dunked the tea.)
Oh yeah, weird stuff has happened since. But why bore anyone else? It ain't pretty. It's an entire decade of crazy nutty accidents and worries that I have cancer. But you know, I'm a hypochondriac. So, it's never cancer. Thankfully. And I haven't had a bad fall for awhile, the last one was on some stairs in flip flops, and I totally caught myself before I died.
~Amelie, accomplished rememberer of accidents and freakish illnesses
Monday, September 09, 2002
And I have to add, whoever thought "popcorn" was a good flavor for a jelly bean, you were wrong.
wrong. In fact, you should be slaughtered in your sleep for having such bad taste and bad ideas.
I keep eating the wrong ones. I get so discouraged.
I need a key, something to tell me which to avoid and which are the "tangerine". Tangerine jelly beans are amazing things. There's a purple one that ain't too bad either.
Talkative, huh? Perhaps sing-ative would be more appropriate, actually. When people don't understand something, it usually drives you to cutting, sarcastic remarks. Your other extreme is bursting into song with almost no prompting, often to explain complex ideas. No one knows quite what you are, exactly. You have made many "special" friends, and there's baloney in your slacks.
Click here to see my Livejournal.
What do you want? I'm not working so hard lately. No incentives.
Another thought about candies, especially capuccino jelly beans: it's hard to eat a lot of these. They get a bit repetitive. just give them up. give it up.
This was a busy weekend, of course. When are they not? Saturday was slightly less busy. Erica bought me drought tolerant lawn seed. I am thinking my lawn needs to be reseeded. It needs something. It's pathetic. Seriously. Anyway, that was the highlight of Saturday.
Sunday was significantly better.
And can I just say "Wow". I cannot stress enough how cute mini cows are. We spent Sunday patting them and pulling our shirt hems from their hip level mouths. They are very very cute. There is nothing cuter. Nothing.
I hope this photo does them justice, it's just so cute. She is about 2.5 feet tall, a heifer, and she is 2 years old. Her name is PC and she costs $6000. I want one.
These are cute, too (but they bite the stupid!)
They make interesting pets. yes, they are de-scented. yes, they still kinda smell. yes, they are very freaking adorable as well. Not as cute as munchkin cattle, but they are very very cute. They have faces like hedghogs.
thought for the day: Butterscotch jellybeans are the most unfortunate candy on the planet. Don't eat them, they are nauseating.
Friday, September 06, 2002
My lunch date got sick. I need a new lunch date.
It's cold here today. Easily early 60s/late 50s with wind chill factor. I was chilled.
Coffee would be very nice right now too. But no. I am blogging.
More news on the job front...I was contacted by another possibility. It's weird. I sent resumes out all year. Now, in the middle of the worst part of the job crisis, I get 2 within 2 weeks. ??? I am baffled, and slightly glad.
Today, more job hunting.
Tomorrow, finishing the volcanoes once and for all.
I am really mad I dropped the digital camera. I will definitely try to see if brand new batteries will kick it into gear. I am feeling doubtful and apprehensive.
There is a very sinister quality to my office lately. I can't quite put my finger on it. Like dread. Like vampires are waiting for me to vacate my little cramped office so they can swoop in and ensconce themselves once I'm gone. It's not like everyone hasn't heard about the chaos of a couple of weeks ago...when my old boss showed up and informed my executive director I was leaving, BEFORE I'd had a chance to discuss my concerns with her. Not that she'd listen. But still! NOT okay. Unforgiveable. He better give me an AMAZING reference.
Is this regular ridiculousness with straight male bosses? do they all act like imbeciles if challenged or feel threatened? or is it just MY straight bosses. I will make every effort to get myself gay bosses with senses of humor and/or very liberal female bosses. We just mesh better.
Wednesday, September 04, 2002
At 11:37 PM tonight, I will be exactly 31 and 2 days old. It's a milestone, it's icky enough to turn 30 and feel nonplussed, much less to follow it with another YEAR of relative disappointment. Let's just say that I am one of those women who thought I'd be a millionaire, with 2.5 kids, and mini cows or at least a few alpacas wandering around my lush grounds cropping grasses. I also figured I'd have my PhD and would be successfully writing about how to do something spectacular and fascinating.
Instead, I have a couple of useless degrees conferred upon me by various universities, a great dog and a happy little blog. And a very nice 1930s burled wooden wardrobe with labels for men's garments on the shelves.
And I'm back at the blog.
What did I do these 5 last days? Well, I sent out an email last week that said "I am going to the State Fair on Saturday 8/31" inviting loads of people. it said something about my wanting to pet a cow's hindquarters and eat a deep fried twinkie (and ride some rides) etc.
And I did all of those things, with about 6 to 9 people around at various points during the day. During 9 hours at the state fair. I suggest going to one, they are surreal. You see loads of bad clothes For example the "whisker" wash jeans (remember what I said about the whiskers? Look at where they are and think "cat" and decide if you would ever wear suburban whisker wash jeans. I wouldn't. Ever.). We saw some even MORE abominable versions in red with a brown stained "wash". But I can't find a picture. Probably because it was so unbelievably awful, no one TOOK a picture. Some stupid 15 year old thought they looked good, and was so wrong (as they are apparently apt to be). I was never that wrong at 15, but then, I wore woolen tweed skirts daily. So it was a feast for the eyes, all the ill fitting clothes and not to mention, the pregnant men. There appears to be an epidemic of middleaged male pregnancy in California. I think it is a real shame the public health departments are focusing so much on teenage pregnancy when obviously the real embarassment is the 45 year old males, especially the mulleted variety, who wander around drinking beer (did no one ever tell them this would harm their fetus?) and looking mildly developmentally delayed as they go through the fair (and apparently life itself).
On Sunday I think I went to breakfast. I cannot be sure. I can't remember. Last Sunday we got locked out of the house. This Sunday...OH! I did. I went to Garbeau's Dinner Theater (for brunch) with my parentals. We was Charley's Aunt abyssmally acted by a very effeminate group of teenage boys and brash, loud girls. It is still a funny play if you ever get the chance to see it. You sort of have to put yourself in a 1920s/1930s mode, and pretend you are British. Then, it's funny. Even if the players are boring and american and don't hammer out the jokes right (because they are Americans and don't quite get it right, which only makes it funnier you know). I have always hated drama people. I hate how flamboyant and theatrical they are. Have you ever been shopping at a Safeway with one? "OOOOHHHH, the beans in CANS! I LOOOOVE these beans. My my my....and I do so love a beefsteak" with the requisite flailing of the arms and the swaying hips. It is like being with a flamboyant gay man, but they are generally adorably redeeming. The drama freak is NOT funny. I lived with one. Housemate from Hell. His name was greg. He wore too tight leather jackets and too small leather motorcycleish-type steve mcqueen hats. He was also in his second trimester and thought he was a high ranking druid priest. He poured bacon grease down the disposal and when I went into an appropriate rage, he just looked at me and did a little "whoopsie" sashaying dance. He thought his dirty iguana cage smelled "Earthy". He turned the heater on full blast in the mildest of springtimes in order to walk around the house in only his shorts. I would wake up sweating and to a horrible view of his ugly white hairy belly. (Did I mention that I eventually had to kick him out?)
Monday. Hiking in Desolation Wilderness Area. I managed to break my newest digital camera in the parking lot at the trailhead, so until I figure out what I did, no pictures. We walked 2.5 miles uphill. I am so out of shape. I whined and stopped the first mile. Then I got acclimated. I made Steve carry all the crud in his daypack. When we got there, he fished, I slept on a big, flat, white, rock in the sun for blissful soft hours, with my feet in a glacier created lake on top of a granite ridge. When I woke up, I watched chipmunks skittering about. It was very pleasant. We came back down, drove home, and slicked back our hair and washed off the obvious traces of hiking dirt. Then we went to sushi. I got presents and cards from mis amigas. Ally gave me a locket with a picture of Seamas, Kim (who wasn't there) gave me a silver hat rack (all of my various hats are now capping it all at once), and Susannah and Evan gave me a card with a promise of another dinner out. Steve bought me more sushi than I could eat, we marched out with a glance at the disgusting giant clam that was hanging phallicly out of the tank (I don't remember if I noted it before, but a week or so ago, Susannah and I went to sushi and watched a giant clam hanging out of the tank and were fairly sickened by it's sickly grey elephantine tube of flesh that hooked over the edge sickeningly, as Phill said, "cronenbergian", very fitting term). Apparently, the giant clam meat was the best sushi of the night. Those of us who saw it on the way to the table wouldn't know, we refused to eat it. We then watched No Such Thing, a movie I kind of liked, but I think everyone else thought it was dumb. I think it was poking fun at everything we take too seriously. (and I think I will add, I didn't get any of the "world is a dark and dismal place" from it. I got "we imagine things are worse than they are and don't pay attention to the really icky stuff sot that our world doesn't become more and more dreadful because we are basically idiotic and don't recognize miracles.")
It was good, like Adventures of Baron Munchausen and Time Bandits and Eraserhead good, but mellower. I think if you didn't like it at least a little, you might be taking yourself a little too seriously.
Tuesday, so mellow. I plodded around the house (called in sick) and recuperated from hiking.
Wednesday, today(I'm still sick) I got a facial (oh man, ever see Samantha's face from Sex and the City? after she gets the chemical peel?) and another haircut. This time I got it short as my favorite haircutter Jeanna said "Oh yeah, it's over an inch longer than the last time I cut it. Boy your hair grows fast! And it's all mulleted-out" Which prompted me to say, "Holy shit, Jeanna, you're right! Cut the back off NOW. Bob it like your life depended on it." So I basically got a boy cut front. with the back bobbed short. It better not mullet out, my next appointment is the end of October. I then saw my mom and picked up her bday presents to me, an ankle bracelet (which I am still wearing, amazingly enough, I keep wanting to scrape it off with my sneaker) and a bunch of choice lillies and vinca that I can plant in my garden. Also, a pile of irises. I have no idea what I'm to do with the irises, they are teeny. Then, dog park with Erica and all the doggies. That's always a nice way to spend an evening. She found a little newly hatched alligator lizard in her bathroom. It's very cute, she named him Pathogen.
I read Kelly Clarkson won American Idol. Woo Hoo!!! I watched it infrequently, but that means middle america ain't that stupid. I mean, for a dumb show, that one grabbed me when I was around and it was on. I was appalled they got rid of Christina and Tamyra and kept Justin the drama boy. "Get rid of him", I thought. Phew.
Now, I must go back to work tomorrow. Not really looking forward to it you know.
My big accomplishment of the day: I made my bed with clean sheets, washed my car and took out all the recycling. Hurray! I forgot to go to the DMV again. Boo!