It's Like Being The Diet Coke Of Evil

You Are 56% Evil

You are evil, but you haven't yet mastered the dark side. Fear not though - you are on your way to world domination.

How Evil Are You?

Funny Weird

as i mentioned in a previous post, i'm in a department that i really like and wanted to be a part of since joining the company. it's really awesome because it's a high-energy, super smart, go-to group. and i am super lucky to be on the team since we get to work on all kinds of projects.

the department that i used to be part of is also on the same floor, and although i was never situated with them (i was already located with the group i belong to), it's interesting how i am treated differently. it's subtle, but i sense it.

most of the people are still nice to me, but since i'm no longer officially part of that group, it's like i've been booted from the herd. what's funny is that i couldn't be happier about the situation. what's weird is i think they feel the same way.

What You Don't Want To Hear Your Boss Say

him: you look like you're suffering in our monday morning staff meetings
me: are you kidding?
him: you look tortured.
me: are you serious?
him: yes.
me. no way.
him: yes.

once again, i was reminded that perception is reality. in that, no matter if you think you're paying rapt attention and interested in what everyone else is discussing, you are perceived as looking like you are being shipped off to prison.

so the adorable one has suggested i wear a smiling richard nixon mask to future meetings. no one would get the humor of the situation, but i think it's brilliant. and at least i wouldn't look like i'm suffering even with tricky dick on my face.

How To OD On Dairy

Snack: 1 cup of cottage cheese
+
Dinner: 2 blueberry blintzes
+
Dessert: wedge of fruit pizza that has cream cheese frosting
=
a fucked-up stomach

One Moment

i was flipping through the channels and came across some movie, the title doesn't matter. but it was filmed in florida, i could tell. and for one moment i was there. with the palm fronds swaying in the breeze, the heat coming off the pavement, and that indescribable feeling--the one you only get when you're in the sunshine state. the place of eternal summer. and the beach is the one never-changing constant. god i miss it, i really do.

Page Turner

i'm voraciously reading "map of bones" by james rollins. if you liked "the da vinci code", you'll eat this one up in no time.

Hooray

for the sun coming up earlier and it being light later. for warm temps all week that make it feel like spring is around the corner versus being two months away. and for fishing season, which can't get here soon enough.

and for the one who makes my whole world go around. he's the damn cutest fisherman who sets the stars, moon, and sweetly ties my lures on. what a honey!

Fake Nice

have you done it? i have. i think every day. it's the way you force yourself to make silly chatter on the elevator or give someone a big grin even if you don't feel particularly happy. but you do it to maintain that fasade you've carefully crafted. you've never really figured out why it's not okay to be crabby or have a bad day or not feel like talking to anyone. are we all suppose to be happy robots? is that the idea? cause being fake nice is tiring. especially if you do it all day, every day. until you are home with your honey and your two girls.

It Can't Be Soon Enough

that shane on "survivor" gets voted off the island. because he is a major dickwad. and jerky. the casaya tribe should have kicked his sorry ass to the curb instead of the very cool melinda. he's almost as despicable as omarosa on "the apprentice", but nobody is that bad. not even the holier-than-thou bible-thumbing robin on the first season of "america's next top model."

i could wonder how the casting directors find these annoying nutjobs, but since there is at least one a season on whatever reality show we're addicted to, it's a given we're rooting for the person's 15-minutes of fame to expire. what's really sick? that fucking william hung of "american idol season three" is still hanging around. wtf!

Been Productive & It Feels So Good

usually our saturdays fly by in a blink. which we find depressing. but today was different. we got up and made it to breakfast at our favorite restaurant before 9:00 a.m., which is always a good thing as it gets packed quickly. we had our usual--the adorable one had the pancakes and i enjoyed the eggs benedict. from there we picked up french bread, plus regular and chocolate croissants at napoleon's bakery for tomorrow's brunch with dan and jan at our house.

then it was a trek to lee's summit to sign our taxes paperwork (we efiled). the good news is, due to the adorable one taking classes, we're getting a bigger refund than expected. which is nice. stopped off a the blue heron to get the cashmere scarf (from russia) that i eyed last week. the blue heron's owner travels to thailand and other exotic places to pick up unique jewelry and other items. and everything is actually reasonably priced--i picked up a jade bracelet last week for $19.

we survied a short jaunt to hy-vee to pick up additional ingredients for tomorrow's foodfest, and zoomed home. after unloading the groceries, we cleaned the house for a couple of hours and i gotta say, it makes a huge difference. we dusted, tidied up the kitchen, set the dining room table, made the bed, and cleaned our grubby bathrooms. it always amazes me that i try to be a fairly clean, neat person. but for some reason, no matter where i live, i'm a dust and schmutz magnet. i don't get it, i really don't.

and let me say this--my bathroom is not all that big, but it takes me a dang 30 minutes to get it presentable. and then it's dirty in a day or two. how does this happen? i wanna know!

okay, so we get cleaned up and head to chili's for lunch, which was good. and although we were gonna go bird watching, specifically in search of hawks, we opted to go home and read and relax. which was awesome. i lounged on the couch, while my cutie started reading the historian, which i devoured last year.

around 6:0o p.m. i got motivated and made tuna salad sandwiches for supper, cooked some hardboiled eggs, and put together the baked french toast recipe for tomorrow. i have no idea where all the energy came from, especially since i did not get in a nap, but it feels good. really good.

so now we're watching "jaws", and then will put in "lake placid", and will call it a night after that. damn, it's been a good day. and productive to boot. as styro would say, woot!

Lindsay Lohan Gets It

weird title for a post, huh? truth is, i like lindsay lohan. i can't help it. i love reading about her in my crack mag and think it's cool she's totally into fashion, stays at the chateau marmont, and wants to do it all--movies, singing, etc. i'm especially partial to her song called "rumors" as the chorus goes:

i'm tired of rumors starting
i'm sick of being followed
i'm tired of people lying
saying what they want about me
why can't they can't back up off me
why can't they let me live
i'm going to do it my way
take this for what it is

granted, i'm not being chased by the paparazzi or being regularly featured in the trash rags, but i relate to the lyrics in the sense that i feel like people have lied about me this week or at least tried to damage my integrity. and i get when she's talking about wanting people to get off her case and just let her do her thing. i'm there, lindsay, i am so there. seriously.

on a separate note, if you have not heard the stellstarr song "sweet troubled soul", people you are missing out. big time.

The Hovercraft

once a week the adorable one and me eat at fazoli's. it may sound nutty, but there is a serious drought when it comes to decent italian food where we live. we've eaten at bravo!, which is decent. and we really like il centro. but what we really want is a really good, super cheap, hole-in-the-wall, to-die-for little mom and pop shop.

anyway, the food at fazoli's is actually pretty delish. the thing is, there's this gal that serves the bread sticks. she's nice enough, she really is. here's the problem: she hovers. endlessly.

here's a typical exchange:

bst: would you like a breadstick?
princess superstar: no thank you, i'm waiting for my meal.
bst: (silence) (hovering ensues) (hover continues)

at this point, i'm praying, actually praying that:
1. she goes away
2. the adorable one shows up with our food

once we get our food, then she does laps around the restaurant, always stopping at our table. and then stands there. for what seems like an uncomfortable eternity. and we try to make polite conversation, but we're trying to have lunch, just the two of us.

once we've had our fill of breadsticks, she comes by to check on us.why? we don't know either. so the adorable one, being so very adorable and funny, nicknamed her the "breadstick terrorist", or the bst for short.

interestingly enough, the bst seems to have a beau. he also serves breadsticks. and hovers. just not as much.

they are related to the nice cashier, becky, who regales us with l-o-n-g stories about her husband, 16-year-old daughter, etc. it seems odd that outwardly we don't seem approachable, but apparently people feel compelled us to tell us their life stories. and then some. what's with that?

and what's really scary? the greek place we like seems to feature the bst's twin sister. she has the same look, the same catch phrase, and the same mannerisms.

could there be a nefarious evil plan at work, just cranking these bots out? beware of a hovercraft coming to a restaurant near you.

Oprah Spoke To Me

in a dream. i'm pretty sure it was wednesday night, as it took a long time to fall asleep and i woke up a bunch of times to pee. anyway, o says to me, "princess superstar, you are not getting enough sleep." and i'm like, "tell me about it." she's pyschic that one.

Cuz I Feel Like Being Whiny

me and the adorable one probably work between 45 and 50 hours a week. sometimes it will be really nutty and i'll put in 60 or more, but thankfully those instances are few and far between. otherwise, i would be even more exhausted than usual. if that's possible.

the tough part is when your spouse has a full-time job, puts in overtime, goes to class twice a week, and is suffering from what seems like a never-ending head cold. and the reason it's tough is because you end up doing pretty much all the chores--the laundry, the grocery store shopping, unloading the dishwasher, straightening the sheets on the bed, feeding the cats, and what seems like everything else around the house. it's tiring.

but you don't want to complain or seem bitchy or make a big deal out of it. oh hell, who am i kidding? i sound like a freaking shallow whiner. what else is new?

Two Letters

from one side of the spectrum to the opposite, here are the two letters i penned today.

letter #1:

dear town & county:

congratulations on getting it right for the first time in three weeks. what a nice change it was to come home and actually see the trashcan in one piece and our recycle items picked up. i feel better knowing that i won't have to begin my letter campaign this week, followed by a petition, and regular rants to the city council. guess you decided you didn't want mob-infested deffenbaugh to retake the territory. good for you!

letter #2:

dear xxxx:

we both know it's not okay to impugne my character and expect that i will like it. or take it. and it's fine that you are not going to apologize because you don't think you're in the wrong. and it's fine if you don't want to talk to me because i don't want to talk to you either.

but if you are expecting me to cave or back down, you're going to waiting a long time and be massively disappointed. because for the record, your actions were unconscionable, unbecoming, and unprofessional.

Dander

i looked up dander at merriam-webster and the first definition had to with dandruff and allergies. but the second definition had to do with anger and temper, which was applicable yesterday.

one thing i can't abide by is someone attacking my integrity or performance without just cause. now, if i've screwed up, i'm the first one to come clean, own up, take responsibility, apologize. however, if someone comes swinging out of nowhere, trying to blindside me, then the dander goes up. along with the likelihood that gaskets are going to blow.

when you send an email and carbon my boss and another coworker, and criticize me for doing my job, that is, taking care of a client to meet a deadline, then the dander is gonna get mighty ruffled. and it's gonna stay there until you apologize. which i know you won't do. i get that you think you're somehow trying to help me.

but here's the deal and so we're clear. if you have something to say to me, say it to my face. don't be a back-stabbing wuss and send an email implicating me for nothing less than doing my job.

because i will take you balls to the wall on it.

The Funny One In The Family

is the adorable one. i mean, i'm kinda funny, but he is hilarious. gut-busting, hard to get your breath, pee-in-your-pants funny. one of our ongoing laughs is that our local police force, which is truly oversized for our small burg, likes to perch on a shoulder on this one stretch of street.

the shoulder of the street has this curb where the police officer jacks the back of the car onto the top of the curb, so it's almost a launching pad. once they spot their prey, they go racing off the curb, and we always wonder if it doesn't actually damage the rear of the vehicle, so the adorable one penned this great letter, which i would love to mail to the department, but he won't let me:

dear rp police department:

why do you hate your cars so much? i know you are trying to be sneaky, but I see you every time. you can't hide from me. i see the way you torture your cars. does it really hurt the cars to back up onto the curb like that or do you think it is a launching pad? you will never catch people speeding because people will slow down due to the confusion you have created by parking in such a strange matter. we don't know if you are checking for speeders or pretending to be piloting the space shuttle. it is hard to tell. i envision you sitting in the car making racing noises or even voicing the launch sequence yourself. if you are that bored, my yard needs the leaves raked.

good luck trying launch yourself into space. I am rooting for you.

get a job,

a concerned rp citizen

i only wish i was half as funny as my cutie pie!

Not So Nice (Anymore)

i recovered from my morning stress (see upcoming post titled "dander"), only to get some lame-ass phone call from some wicked beeyoch that went like this:

wicked beeyoch: "princess superstar, you need to pull your skirt down."
me: "anything else?"
click.

okay, i made the mistake of leaving a meeting not realizing that my skirt needed to be nudged down in back. still, couldn't the wb have said something like, "hey princess superstar, you might want to tug your skirt down in back." that's all that had to be said. it's never that simple or that nice.

which leads me to my next point--is it worth to be a nice person? i'm not sure any more. i try to be polite. and kind. and considerate of other people's feelings. i genuinely try to be a good, decent person. maybe i'm not as nice as i think i am. maybe people perceive me as not a nice person. the point is, i don't think it pays to be a nice person at work. i'm not saying that i need to be nasty or unkind. but i don't have to constantly apologize. and i don't have to do some other nice things like write thank-you notes, or buy candy, or whatever.

i can just go to work, do my job, and stay in my shell. because to me, it's not worth it to put myself out there, to be friendly, and to get shredded.

Find Me A Cave

i may have written this before. in my old age of 37, i tend to forget everything my brain dribbles out. i don't know if it's just the weather, this time of year, the general sense of malaise and the blahs, or the fact that i have low-grade depression. it's actually a diagnosable condition, hence the daily intake of zoloft. which works pretty well, but i probably should go back to being on topamax, to take the crabbiness down a notch or two. or three if you talk to the adorable one.

so, here's the deal. when i lost my job (read: got fired) a couple years ago, i hit rock bottom, despite getting married and going on an awesome and relaxing honeymoon. because for those eight, long months where i didn't have a job, life sucked rocks. big time. our finances took a severe beating, as did our savings. and my self esteem. the thing is, we came out of it, better, stronger, and smarter.

but a lot of days, no make that every day, the only time i feel safe is when i'm at home. my usual routine when i do get out of work, especially at my normal time, i race home without breaking the landspeed record, doff my uncomfortable work clothes, pull on my pajamas as quickly as i can, and then curl up on the couch with a blanket or two and watch tv.

i mentioned this hermitlike behavior to two sets of friends i trust--my good pal amy and my dear friends gail and michael. gail, who suffered a similar job fate at another life-sucking corporate hellhole, totally understood where i was coming from. michael correctly diagnosed that i am depressed. and amy mentioned that she feels the exact same way.

the thing is, i used to be a social butterfly. i used to go to the gym for at least an hour every day after work. and although i hated going, i felt great afterward. i used to enjoy going out with gal pals for dinner and shopping. now, all i want to do is be home. where i feel safe and secure. i've asked the adorable one for his opinion, but he thinks is wrong with me, but i get no responses to my questions.

i wish i knew how and when it happened. when i became hermit girl. i miss the days where i didn't want to hide all the time. but those days seem long gone and very far away.

I Wish

that when i sneezed, i didn't pee. 'cuz i hate it, i truly do. maybe i should try those kegel exercises or something. ideas? suggestions? me and my skivvies thank you.

In My Next Life

i want to come back as a sports illustrated swimsuit model. lying around on a warm beach in a cute suit, attended to by hair and makeup people, and being snapped by some world-famous photographer--seriously, how tough a job can it be? i think it's hilarious that some of the models take it so seriously--like they are performing brain surgery or saving the world, or worse, like it's such a hardship to being doing their job. somebody please tell me how hard it is to look positively gorgeous, get paid a ton of money, and have a great figure? seriously, they should try my job for a day or a week--they would have a whole new appreciation for pushing out their boobs, arching their back, rolling around in the sand, and all that other really exhausting stuff they do. must be really rough, which is why i hope reincarnation does exist.

coming back as one of cats wouldn't be bad either. but a supermodel would be better. definitely.

Even Though

i was home sick today due to my stomach being ripped up yesterday and still feeling like garbage, i managed to be productive. which i think is important. because even though i spent a good chunk of the day fighting a migraine and regular runs to the bathroom, there was still time to unload the dishwasher, clean out some of the fridge, and do three loads of wash. which may explain why i'm sick in the first place.

Off Da Hook & Feeling Good

the folks called and they are going to some culture/musical/play/theatre thing at the local community college and then are going to bunk in for the rest of the day, so we're off the hook for dinner tonight. which is good because neither me or the aorable one who is studying his patootie off (for his online music appreciation class, no less) has the energy to do any entertaining.

think i'll throw cold comfort farm in the dvd player, grab the quilt out of the linen closet, and enjoy some caprisun. i love sundays!

It's A Mystery

as to why you can take a shower at night, before you go to sleep. you can use all kinds of body washes and soaps to ensure you get all the smoke smell off you. you can wash your hair twice. and you feel damn clean and scrubbed and smelling nice.

then you wake up the next morning and take a shower. and somehow you feel even cleaner. what is that about? it's like we secretly get kinda grubby while we sleep. it's an unsolved mystery for that robert culp fella.

My Bladder Is Smart

and what i mean by that is i can be deep in sleep and my bladder will send a message to my brain that goes like this:

bladder: i'm full up
brain: really?
bladder: yup, we're out of space down here. better do something quick.
brain: no problem. i'll work with the subconscious to conjure a dream where the princess repeatedly has to use the bathroom, but she still feels like she has to go. it's guaranteed that she'll wake up, tinkle, and take the pressure off you.
bladder: sweet!
brain: yay, works every time.

I'm The Opposite

of styro. in that i never want to poop. it's that i need to poop. and for some reason, whenever i eat certain spring greens or the grilled chicken in the salads at both johnny's tavern or gert's grill, it's guaranteed gastric distress. now, i'm sure you are asking, "princess superstar, if you know you're gonna end up making a run on the loo, why doncha just order a burger?" the thought has crossed my mind people, believe me. i'm trying to be all healthy, but not sure it's worth it.

luckily both times i was in the restroom by myself. which if you actually read this blog, recognize a) the rareness (is that a word?) of this occurence, and b) the importance of privacy to me. someone who really gets this is marty cohen, whose posting "hold me now" is so right on the money. seriously. what is it with people who lounge in the bathroom like it's their living room? get back to work and hurry up about it. and sheesh--you really don't need to wash your hands for 15 minutes. if you're that concerned about germs, throw yourself in a bottle of purrell.

and lest you think this posting is gross, well, it's about to get worse. so, if you have a weak stomach, perhaps this is not the blog for you. what i really hate about the gastic distress is what dave chappelle refers to as "mud butt." thank goodness for clorox bleach. otherwise all my skivvies would be embarrassed. and me for them.

anyway, a big ole thank you to both styro and mincemeat vixen for making it okay and cool to talk about the exciting world of poo. i feel better already.

Why Florida Is Looking Oh So Good

here
actual temperature: 23 degrees
feels like: 9 degrees

tampa
actual temperature: 68 degrees
feels like: 68 degrees

playa del carmen
actual temperature: 75 degrees
feels like: 80 degrees

it's official: windchill sucks. it blows. and we gotta move south before winter kills us once and for all. and to those who think we'll miss snow or the changing of the seaons, we say, "bah!"

Dear Town & County: Part II

thank you once again making it a challenge to collect our one and only trashcan from your heinous fit of rage that sent the lid to one neighbor's driveway, and left the can upside down on the other neighbor's lawn, in the opposite direction. and not collecting the items in our recycle bin? nice.

so now that we are on week #2 of providing an obstacle course on putting the trashcan away, let me be clear. this is a path you do not want to continue. because one more week of having to go on a trek to put the two pieces together, well, hell hath no fury like a woman like me. we'll start out nice and slow with a weekly letter to the city. then a petition will follow. regular rants to the city council should put the nail in the coffin. and before you know it, you're out. and the mob-controlled deffenbaughs, will be collecting the cash. and our trash.

SOS For A Good Salmon Recipe

my mum's birthday is saturday, so we're having them over for sunday supper. last time they came over i roasted the asparagus too long so it was mushy, i didn't add enough sugar in the kugel so it wasn't really all that tasty. and the salmon? well, i tried to make balsamic-glazed salmon, but it didn't taste very good. i could tell my folks hated the whole meal and i can't blame them. the only thing that turned out decent was my salad. sigh!

i'm thinking about melting a stick of butter, adding fresh chopped dill, and letting it reduce down a little bit. meanwhile, i will season the salmon with freshly cracked pepper and sea salt, and then allow the salmon to marinate in the butter dill sauce. and then roasting it for 20 minutes. something tells me though it will turn out tasteless. sigh!

so, if anyone has a really good, really tasty salmon recipe, i'm all ears!

WTF

so yesterday the adorable one came to pick me up for lunch, as our offices are about 10 minutes apart. and i'm riding down the elevator with three people, two women and one man. the women are dressed in almost identical mauve winter jackets. and we walk outside and the only vehicle in front of the building is our suv. i notice that they keep walking closer to the car, which is weird, because mind you, i don't know who the fuck these people are. and they keep getting closer and closer. to the point, where the three actually get in the car.

the adorable one said to the woman who sat in my seat, "i think you're in the wrong car." and the dumb bitch just sat there. what a freak. so, they finally figured out that they were not supposed to be in the car, while i am literally screaming at them, "what are you doing in my husband's car?"

here's an idea--maybe you should look to see who is in the car before you actually get in. here's another one--try paying attention for a change. as scary as that might be. cuz luckily for you the adorable one is not a serial killer. and i did not get my way to mow you down. fucking morons.

I Am Embarrassed

to say that i fell asleep a couple of times during the division president's quarterly address this afternoon. the culprits for this faux pas include the following:

1. the tylenol pm i took this morning
2. the yummy and filling lunch at fazoli's that included pasta and meatballs (natch!)
3. the short, but very tiring walk over to the place where the address took place
4. the lack of sleep i got last night plus the breaker that flipped when i turned off the ceiling fan at 4:00 a.m.

i'm just not wired for corporate meetings, as i always find them beyond boringly dull. everyone else though, whether they are lying through their teeth or actually find the material interesting, look at me like an alien when i mention that it was a snoozefest, no pun intended.

this is when a robot/clone would really come in handy. the clone could attend the meeting and pay rapt attenion while i am back at my desk working. or heck, just taking a nap.

Ipodalicious

the adorable one bought this for me on friday and i've been hooked ever since. some girls get chocolates. some girls get flowers. but the really lucky ones get the gift they've wanted for a couple of years. sweet!

Seinfeldian Urges

remember the "seinfeld" episode where elaine's office uses any excuse to have cake and she gets addicted to it, and then is cut off from joining in, so she goes to j. peterman's mini refrigerator and eats the 1929 piece of cake that he bought at an auction?

in a strange twist of fate, i feel like i'm in a similar seinfeldian situation. at the beginning of the year i was transferred to the department that i wanted to belong to since joining the company a year ago. but my old department was really keen on doing stuff around the holidays--whether it was food days, cooking contests, whatever--there was a committeee that would do cool things.

for example, since yesterday was valentine's day, everyone received a pink balloon bouquet with m&ms. today it was someone's birthday, so there were tons of goodies, including a cake. granted, i didn't have a piece (it was vanilla), but it sure looked tempting. so i had an iced cookie instead and thus, the sugar craving was sated. let's hope i can resist the call of the cake tomorrow, but it's not looking good.

I Don't Want To Be A Stupid Girl

but i sure like pink's new song and the video is hilarious.

I Would Like To Know

why it's so damn tough to get out of bed every day. i know, i know--i've addressed this subject before, but damn, i swear every day it's a bigger hurdle to hurl myself from the warm confines of the comfy bed, as i stumble around to find my bath slippers, and convince myself it's worth it to take a shower. i often wonder what it would be like to wake up based on my natural bio rhythm, not when the alarm clock is going off every ten minutes, and it's dark and cold as i rack my brain on how to take a sick day without feeling loads of guilt for being healthy.

i was telling the adorable one that we need to invent some kind of gadget that launches you out of bed, puts your pajamas either away or in the laundry, and plops you in the shower. i'm telling you now, we would make billions. cause god knows we would use the gizmo. submit your designs now, along with the names and phone numbers of venture capitalists, and we'll get back to you. the phone lines are open.

Hard To Believe

that after a sunny, balmy day with highs in the upper 60s that the temps are gonna tumble into the 20s within a day or so and we can expect an real ickfest of freezing rain/sleet/icy precipitation. i best begin my campaign for our once-a-year crackling fire, as the adorable one is afraid of burning his face off when he lights our gas logs. i understand his concern, but really, the thing is pretty safe. perhaps i can bribe him with hot toddies, cuddles in our 300-pound comforter, and my womanly whiles, whatever those may be. time to get bundly people and i don't like it. not one little bit.

Chopstix Please

since the adorable one and i worked late, we opted to move our steak, mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus, and bottle of vino dinner to thursday night. instead, aloha chopstix will deliver an order of egg rolls, two orders of crab rangoon, a large order of general tsos chicken (the adorable one's favorite), and a small order of combination fried rice (for me).

truth is, after a full day of go-go-go with no breaks and a push to get a project out the door, i'm pooped. the mere idea of navigating the grubstore was so unappealing that i came home, took the trash to the curb, fed the girls, unloaded the dishwasher, and ordered dinner.

a big thank you to the sneeze for the wonderful v-day tip. here's mine--head to your grocery or drugstore tomorrow for half-price packages of chocolates. um and yum!

The Menu Tomorrow Night

will include two, nice plump filets, which the adorable one will grill as it's gonna be like in the 60s. with that, we will enjoy a big ole pot of mashed potatoes made with lotsa unsalted butter, whipping cream, sea salt, freshly cracked pepper, and dill. as i finally figured out that you only have to roast aparagus for like 12 minutes on 400 degrees, we'll have non-mushy stalks and lots of 'em. a full-bodied, buttery cabernet sauvignon to wash it all down, and for dessert, chocolate and some port. can you taste the love?

The Problem With Being Lazy

is that you end up doing all the chores you should have done when you had the time. so yesterday, yes, i slept through a good chunk and was a complete slothball. and for the most part, it worked. probably helped as i was in some kind of deep funk of my own making.

so today after work, which naturally i did not get to leave on time as usual, i got the filthy car washed and dropped off two movies and a book at the library. once i got home it was throw the first load of laundry in, strip the bed, put on fresh sheets, take out the trash, feed the girls, and bitch to myself about having to do all the chores. which i could have done yesterday and then relaxed as soon as i got home today. but then i would have missed out on all that laziness. and that would be bad. very bad.

Kiss Kiss

Your Kissing Purity Score: 51% Pure

For you, kissing isn't a casual thing Lip to lip action makes your heart sing

Kissing Purity Test

Gulp!

being a regular reader of entertainment weekly, i am really into the book reviews, as we get all our books from the library (otherwise known as the brair). i'm kinda weird in that i read all the reviews, sometimes even two or three times. usually i'm looking for good reads for myself or the adorable one.

anyway, one of the books reviewed in 2005 was "the devils teeth" by susan casey. there's no way i can do the book justice as it's about the author's research and experience with great white sharks at the rocky and remote farrallone islands, just thirty miles west of san francisco. here's what's fascinating--i learned more about great white sharks in that one book than i've learned in a lifetime interest in these mysterious predators. in fact, i was so entranced with the book that by the time i finished it, i wanted to visit the farrallones, which is impossible, as it's a protected marine sanctuary--unless you're a marine biologist/scientist/somebody with credentials up the wazoo, you don't get to go.

here's the thing. you can take a five-hour boatride to the general area as there is a burgeoning tourist trade around the shark watching. in fact, there are some outfitters that transport you and also allow you to go underwater in a metal shark tank. now, i'm not that nuts. but i would pay good money, really good money to charter a private boat, someday, with someone familiar with the area, just to get a glimpse of a great white.

i'm not really sure what i find so captivating about these killing machines--maybe it's their black, soulless eyes, maybe it's the fact that they have been around for millions and millions of years. maybe it's that we still know very little about them. whatever it is, i'm hooked.

Giving Marketers A Bad Name

shane on "survivor" is positively the biggest wuss-ass sissy. on top of being a vomit-mouth jabberjaw, he's a total crybaby. and instead of him going home, they voted off the very cool melinda. what a fucking pisser. don't know or care what marketing this jerkweed does, but he's giving the rest of us credible folks a bad rap. here's wishing i could kick his sorry ass from here to exile island.

Where Have All The Hawks Gone?

one of the very few good things about working at the toxic waste dump was that my cube faced the downtown skyline. in fact, i positively loved the floor-to-ceiling windows, which offered a good view of the convention center that features these weird-looking, alien-like artwork.

anyway, the best part was that these amazingly huge hawks would perch on the spindles of the artwork on that first pylon. the largest hawk was nicknamed spike by the people i worked with, and i named his mate, drucilla (yes, an obvious nod to the fabulous characters on "buffy: the vampire slayer"). and i looked for them, especially spike, every day. and i actually felt kinda lonely when spike wasn't there.

so i became a hawk watcher. every where i went i looked for birds of prey. luckily, the adorable one is really into wildlife, so we always have our eyes to sky. usually when i drive home there's a stretch of highway that has lightpoles in the median. essentially it's like a bunch of perches that catch the sun at the end of the day. which is where we often see hawks. but lately we haven't seen any. and they are missed.

so here's a shout-out to all blog-reading blogs, y'all come back soon!

Dear Town & County Disposal

just want to tell you how much i appreciate that you left my trashcan knocked over and the lid on the other side of the street for me to retrieve after another long day at the office and a trip to the grocery store, otherwise known as hell house. for the record, your competition, the mob-run deffenbaugh, never did this kind of crap. almost makes me almost miss them.

i know this is a crazy concept, but you might want to think about being respectful of your client's property, even if it's only trashcans. cuz you never know when the powerfully vocal contingency of elderly roeland park residents will unite against you. and then you crappy, worthless trash company, are screwed.

Isn't He Adorable?

and he's mine, all mine! okay, i admit i have a pretty unhealthy addiction to my adorable hubby. here's the funny thing about this pic, which i snapped at boudros on the river walk in san antonio. the umbrella at the table behind us make it look like he's wearing some kinda wonky hat. personally, all that man has to do is whip on his new, hot sunglasses, and i'm a puddle of drool. did i mention i think he's cute? yay, i got it bad for him.

Signage

the other week i was on the floor where cabbage patch head's cube is located. for whatever reason, right by the restrooms, there is one of those electronic signs with scrolling messages. which is w-a-y weird. i say this because no other floor in our building has one of these signs. normally i think it says the usual rah-rah stuff.

the last time i passed the sign, i kid you not, it said, "friends may come and go, but enemies accumulate." granted, if i was the overly analytical, reads-into-everything paranoid type, i would think cabbage patch head was trying to send me a message. luckily for her, i don't read or read into signs. but hey, nice try loser.

The Best Rootbeer Ever (Sans The Mustard)

if you are a rootbeer afficionado, then you shilos deli is your mecca. the hot mustard ain't bad either.

What To Drink In San Antonio

prickly pear margaritas at boudros (addictive as hecky heck)

the purple people eater at pat o'brien's (if you can drink more than one and not pass out, we salute you.)

pat o'brien's pink lemonade (yummee)

Freak: Jezus Or Otherwise

so i was walking past the jezus freak's cube and overheard him talking and i swear, i swear he sounded just like gollum from "lord of the rings." which means i need to find some elvish chainmail. or open a can of hobbit whup ass. poor little fella doesn't realize i have the temper of an orc. sucka!

I Luv Flickr

thanks to the urging and encouraging of miss styrofoam kitty, i joined flickr. it's free. it's fabulous. and i'm in love. here's the link to our san antonio pics. enjoy!

Is It Real?

according to the email that accompanied the following link, there were no computer graphics or digital tricks used in the film. everything you see supposedly happened in real time exactly as you see it. the commercial required 606 takes.

honda accord ad

whatcha think? it's damn cool, that's for sure.

Who Eats Chocolate Chip Cookies For Breakfast?

you know, everyone told us we would love san antonio and i am not knocking the place because the weather was lovely and the river walk is pretty nice. and i have to say that midwest airlines is everything it's cracked up to be, with the exception that they do not serve chocolate chip cookies on flights before 11:00 a.m. their position is, "who eats chocolate chip cookies for breakfast?" well me, for starters. probably a heckuva lot of other people too. anyway, we did get some on the way back and boy were they good. good enough to serve for breakfast.

I Tried To Post On Thursday Night

but to no avail. i had a great posting, full of links to all the stuff we planned to do in san antonio. we did visit the alamo, which instead of being out in the middle of a barren plain with tumbleweeds rolling by, was smack dab in the middle of town. i wasn't all that impressed, but i'm sure everyone else thought it was neat. i hate to say this, but visiting historical sites just doesn't interest me. does that make me a lousy american? i just find history really dull.

i have all kinds of cool pictures to post, and will probably do that while the adorable hubby is at class.

Set Your Tivo/DVR/VCR

because the next season of "survivor" starts tomorrow night and i am w-a-y excited. let's get our tribal council on jeffy jeff probst. hopefully the producers will have graced that cute little head of yours with a better hat than what you had in guatemala. dude, the tribe has spoken and it's time for the hat to go home. and stay there. forever. just tell us where you always manage to find those neat-o necklaces and you've got our vote.