What I love

Especially when the box looks like this:



And I love the prizes in the bottom!

Emerging from the Mists of Time...

Hi guys. I have returned. As Boobarella can attest, I actually forgot we had a blog... it's been a crazy month or two months or year or whatever. But I'm back, obsessed with Teen Vampire Romance novels (the saccharinely addictive "Twilight" series, thank you SO MUCH, Ressler) and preparing to move at the end of the month. I'm headed for a bigger, nicer apartment to complement my bigger, nicer income and my bigger, nicer title of... yes, that's right... Doctor. Plus, my apartment building is starting to go to shit, owing to some incredibly bad choices on the part of my landlord. When you can't open your front door because there is a STROLLER blocking it, it's time to move. I'll try to be fancy and post the pictures like Boobarella did, but don't hold your collective breath. But I'll be on the second floor of another nice brick building and I will share a balcony with two of my very good friends. I will have more space, more privacy, and more light (you have to admit, my current apartment has a Hobbit Hole-ishness about it... I feel like a mole). And off-street parking and laundry facilities. Yes, much better all around.

Incidentally, I watched Drunk History. No, that is NOT how my defense went. But it IS:

-how the review for the defense went
-how I describe my dissertation to people
-how I describe medieval narratives to people
-an idea for a future project (Who wants to play Judith in that one?)

So, in short, I have returned. Missed me?

Happy day, Oh, happy day!

Today, I received the happiest email ever:

"Dear Illinois Residents

Bully Hill is happy to be able to ship our wines back into the great state of Illinois. From the time you receive this email until August fifth we will be offering a fifteen percent discount on any orders which equals 12 bottles or more. This offer is extended to IL shipments only. The 15% discount will be taken in our shipping dept. and may nor reflect in the online total.

Your friends at Bully Hill Vineyards"

OH HAPPY DAY!

The Wine I am Drinking

Okay, so this isn't a wine:

. . . but I have always wanted to try it.

yeah. It's not so great. I'm totally bummed. If you want a nice Summer beer, just get a Corona. I am so sorry Jimmy; this is poopy.

Puppy confusion, the Art of Reimbursement, or How the Week is Going So Far

I'm not sure exactly where to start this. It might be best to start with Tuesday when I attended the SLA (Special Libraries Assoiciation) membership drive party. It was bad. Yes, they had dessert, yes there was a tray of Greek food and a bottle of water, but they never actually said what their organization was all about and why I should join. Not to mention, no one spoke to me who wasn't planning on running for president next year. (Hint to Erika: Don't bother with it unless you have to). That dismal failure of an event followed by a glass of wine at a swanky hotel bar and shopping for my parents belated birthdays which I forgot all about and plagued by the impending doomishness of my mother's phone call earlier in the day telling me my father is going to have a stint put in his heart today because he's really not well has kind of flavored the week.

Yesterday, I made the Costco run for the museum's huge party tonight that I'm not really getting any credit for thinking up, because someone else actually went to the people who mattered and informed them it would be a good idea. I probably wouldn't have wanted the responsibility of taking control anyway. This mad dash to Costco and Smart and Final was followed by a politically charged book club over a the graphic novel "Persepolis." Of the novel, very little was discussed, of the situation discussed in the book, much was. However, the salsa was good and so were the strawberries.

Then this moring I confused Clifford by getting up early. It was so out of the usual that when Jim tried to take him outside to do his business he wouldn't go. In fact, he came back in. Jim had to pick him up and carry him outside to try it again. And it's cold in my neighborhood, but not downtown, so I'm dressed for downtown, but not my neighborhood which meant that with the copious amount of lemon juice I had to carry with me this morning I couldn't manage extra clothes to change into so I'm wearing my party wear. Despite Muni being on time I just had a hellish ride in on, Muni is apparently having switching problems and tunnel traffic is slow this morning. Doesn't really matter anyway because the 10 bottles of lemon juice I was carrying was not going to get up and magically transport me anywhere I wanted to be anyway. So I'm here, I'm dressed to party and I'm headed for coffeeville up the street. Any questions? I didn't think so. I'm just not sure I can face a third night of eatting hors d'ouevres for dinner again.

The Wine I am Drinking

It was my anniversary on Monday. So a special night called for a special wine.


Another Argentine wine, Luigi Bosca Reserva ($18) is excellent. Malbec, apparently one of the more celebrated grapes to grow in Argentina, is a varietal originally found in France that has flourished in the Southern Hemisphere. Not as dry as I normally prefer, but nowhere near sweet, the Luigi Bosca has a nice spicy aftertaste. It was delicious with the traditional anniversary dinner of brie & paté.

drunk history

New Feature: The Wine I am Drinking.

I think we need a new feature on here. So I'm starting one:

"The Wine I'm Drinking"

This weekend we bought a bottle of something that I called "Psychedelic Cow."

It's called, as I'm sure you can see, Terra Buena ($11). It's an Argentinian red wine and it is delicious. We had it with steaks with an onion, garlic, and blue cheese sauce, mashed potatoes and a brie & tomato salad. It really brought out the garlic flavor in the sauce the chef (read: the Larry) made. As most of reds I like are, it was dry and had a bit of spice to it.

So I say a nice A-.

The Move

Yay! We moved! Woo! We're still unpacking and I only can "borrow" internet in one corner of my new place (until tomorrow when the internet guy comes to my house and hooks us up with our very own). I have many other posts brewing over the last week and I'm trying to limit myself to only one a day now that I seem to be back up and running at home.

Who am I kidding? I don't run!

Anyway, here's some pictures of the home-front so far!

Catch up. . .

I feel awful. I keep meaning to post all of this, but haven't had the chance. So I apologize but I have a lengthy one. . .

That's what she said. . .


Okay, so first off, we're moving this weekend (not far far away, just down the street) and we're packing everything in sight. Not even the pugs & cat are safe, which would also explain their new fear of boxes. So here we are, we've spent all day packing and moving wee things to the new place and we decide to sit down, have some wine, and relax as the day comes to an end. But there is one problem... someone, in her effort to be efficient and in her packing fury, has packed the wine glasses. Yeah.


Second. I have a new love. I have fallen in love with Purity by Philosophy.

It is a great facial cleanser and I really do feel like it has done an excellent job of, um, well, cleaning me. But I found another great use. I needed to shave my legs and forgot to grab the shaving lotion/gel/schtuff before I got in the shower. The bottle of Purity was right there so I figured "what the hell." Best. Shave. Ever. Hands down this was the bestest, most clean, smooth legs, shavetastic awesomeness. I can't afford it. But no, you know what? I'm going to buy myself more when I run out, damnit. It's just that good. It smells like heaven, like pure wet dew in the morning in the woods. I want to live in the bottle. If Wingal was here she would talk to my legs and face (as opposed to all the time she spends talking to my tits) they smell so good. If indeed I washed my boobies with it I wouldn't have anymore eye contact, but damn would my boobs smell great. Not that they smell bad. No, they smell great. But, I digress...

Lastly, and I have to apologize again, this one isn't funny (not that the first two were, but I've been drinking wine out of a tea cup what the hell do I know??) just sweet.

I was looking at pictures of my beautiful niece that the brother and sister-in-law posted on flicker and saw a resemblance that I had to share:

option: PSSWR HAWAII

Aloha, ladies! YES, I am still in Hawaii. I'm coming back on Monday after three weeks on the Big Island. I have fabulous tales of mongeese and awa ceremonies, volcanoes and poi, frozen chalices of beer and sunrise chanting down by the ocean. And also I think we should have a PSSWR Hawaii someday. Maybe not soon. But someday.

I'm sitting at a folding table in the dark upstairs loft at Halawa House, which is where the students, T.A.s, and project directors are living. Currently, I am mildly intoxicated, as we had our end-of-the-project barbeque tonight. Someone made me have whiskey. And what I think was suntan lotion. The students (and co-project director) are down in the macadamia nut orchard below the house doing whatever it is that they're doing down there. In the rain. And, since I am no less than four years older than the oldest person down there and at least eight years older than most everyone else, I have opted to wuss out for the remainder of the night.

Here I am.

Write a caption #6

The World is a Cruel and Evil Place.

So, the drama on this side of the Mississippi is that we, the three public service people at my "little" company, have to work July 5th. Excuse me? So, just to remind you, we ALL get Friday July 4th off. And then only three of us have to come in a work on Saturday July 5th from 12 to 5pm. Okay, so while everyone else gets a three day weekend, the rest of us low paid, under appreciated folks don't. And no one but us thinks this is unfair. Because you know they don't work Saturdays. And when I was informed that by taking this job I agreed to work Saturdays, I replied with, "but yes, I agreed to work 1 to 5pm, which is vastly different than 12 to 5 because it means I have an extra hour to do stuff on Saturdays that aren't open on Sunday or Monday which are my days off." At which point I was ignored. I tell you, I never wanted to slam someone's head down into a computer so much in my life. And you know the worst of it? NO ONE WILL COME IN ON JULY 5th. Because people in this city vacate on the afternoon of July 3rd. I'm going to be sitting here by myself being pissed off and quite possibly foaming at the mouth.

Naturally this is only the lastest in a long series of why I'm constantly pissed off and not actually blogging because I'm just too angry all the time. Honestly, this wouldn't have happened anywhere else I ever worked before. And that is the honest truth!

How Evil Are You?

*sigh* I expected more from me...


How evil are you?

Write a Capion #5

You know you missed this game:

PSSWR H2O

Is it a big "o" or a little one??

Anyway, here is what we would like propose: PSSWR H2O: a cruise.

Not this year, next maybe. In the mean time we need to plan PSSWR 2.0

Hard times call for an even harder wine

As the economy falters, I think it's important we start to weigh our options in case we can no longer afford such luxuries as Bully Hill. Ladies, let me introduce you to Bum Wine, your resource for everything you will need to know about the cheaper side to getting loaded.

My boys

So, I have a video of the pugs form Thanksgiving and I tried to post it to youtube.com, but I thought I had failed.

Apparently however, I did it right. Anywho, here are my boys attacking the fridge:

That's what she said.

Today from the BBC:

"Great tits cope well with warming."

THAT'S what I'M talking about...

25

crapola

15

How many can you take on?

22

Suddenly SUNY Plattsburgh doesn't look so bad. . .

So . . . cyclone in Mynamar.

Volcano eruption in Chile.

And now honey bees are dying out preventing Haagen-Daazs from making their delicious flavors.

And gas. . . holy crap.

I'm thinking we should pile our resources and start a doomsday cult in Upstate NY.

No, not that kind.

The nice, up north kind where we all wait for the rest of humanity to work their shit out and then we can rejoin society.

Bringing out the crafter in all of us.

So after a lovely, overdue, conversation with Wingal, I have a need to hit a fabric store and cross-stitch a pillow.

Adam, Benjamin, Caleb, Daniel, Ephraim, and Frankincense

Six of my little chil'ins goin' out in the world today. 314 pages of blood, sweat, and ever-so-many tears... yes, ever-so-many tears. But they're out there, for better or for worse. Gideon and Fin are left to be birthed, but they're nothing to fear compared to their brothers. Whores.

Anyway, just wanted to make a little announcement. Wish you all were here to celebrate with me, but I'll summon up the will-power to drink without you. Cheers!

Cheap-a-little, cheap-a-little, cheap, cheap, cheap!

My sister-in-law is cheap. I knew this and yet I am constantly amazed as to what new lows of cheapness she can attain when it comes to my birthday.

The first year I was married she graciously got me...nothing. My second year in the family she got me a paperback book off the Oprah book club list. A grand total of $14.00. And this year? This year she gave me a book she pulled off her book shelf which she claims to really love and tossed in a lavender-citrus candle. Several things here....The book was Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale. I HATE Margaret Atwood. Never liked her. I have also been told the book blows royally. Perhaps you've read it and liked it and I'm sorry for my criticism, but after Surfacing I have no desire to read anything else of her's again. And it was used. By her. Not like she went to a used bookstore and said..."What would Sam like?" No, she looked at her bookshelf and thought "what can I get rid of?" In addition, that candle...well I'm not only allergic to lavender essence, not the plant, just the essence, but I'm pretty sure it was something my other sister-in-law gave her that she didn't like. That or she walked the two blocks to TJ Maxx and picked one up for $5. I would have been much happier with NOTHING. Nothing would have been better than the crap she gave me. At least it was all in a nice bag, which she probably received from someone else as well.

On top of all this she changed her birthday party from Saturday to Friday in part to accomodate the fact that if she had it on a Friday afternoon no one would come and they could save money on the food. You know, because we all work durring the time food would be served... Oh the "stop by after work all you 9-5ers" was a load of crap, because they knew, as discussed two days earlier, that we already had plans for Friday, but then it's not like they even sent me an e-vite anyway. I only found out about it from my mother-in-law who thought I should try to go to both parties. I'm sorry, but I would much rather go to my friends' "White Trash" themed party than to some cheap birthday party 40 minutes south of here. Perhaps by having her party on Friday my sister-in-law realized I wouldn't be able to steal back the bottle of wine I gave her for her birthday if I couldn't actually make it there. Foiled again, because honestly I was pissed off enough to try.

When the economy gets bad

Well, that's an understatement I realize, but it's definately true. Yesterday I noticed my neighborhood bookstore is going out of business. Apparently the sign had been up for about 5 days and I only just noticed it. Today I noticed a wrecking crew truck outside the door. Was that quick? Was that too quick? I've been informed by the hand written sign on their door I can visit their other location in Berkeley if I so desire. However, Berkeley is an hour ride via Muni and Bart and I HATE driving over the Bay Bridge (which explains why I never go there by myself. I'm really afraid the upper deck is going to collapse on my head for no apparent reason or by an earthquake.) So I guess, in short, I won't be going to their other store.

Muni drivers are getting worse. Last week the morning driver held us at a stop and read off the time table to us and informed us that he wasn't going to wait for NOBODY and you just had to be there because he wasn't going to wait for you to run down the street. Yesterday morning the morning driver jerked around corners and yelled at people to use ALL the doors. This morning he demanded all the students get off the car and walk up the hill to their school 10 blocks away. And if you think that's bad, you should try riding the bus. The last time I rode the bus less than a month ago the driver came to screaching halts that catapulted all 7 brave souls on the bus out of our seats and on to the floor EVERY TIME HE STOPPED. He actually yelled at a heavy woman for getting on to slow and told a man in a wheel chair to take the next bus. I kind of think this was the guy the news did an expose on he was so mean. However, just so you know, Muni managed to hit another pedestrian on Geary Ave on Wednesday. 89 year old man was trying to hold the bus so he could get on and the driver pulled out while the man was crossing the street and struck him. He's in the hospital in critical condidtion, but I think if he dies that's the 3rd Muni death this year. Yeah, it's just now April. See what I have to live with? I swear last year Muni was safe and happy and no one got killed. It was also more crowded and cramped.

Not that this has anything to do with the economy, but I managed to traumatize my dog. Poor Clifford. He didn't like his grooming session the other night. I accidentally clipped one of his nails too close and made him bleed and then I found a snarl in his patootie and tried to brush it out, but this caused far more wiggling than I expected and I had to fix him between my legs and stand on my head and cut the snarl out. Normally he likes the brushing, but apparently not on the rump. Anyway, when released he ran under a chair and stared balefully at me and wouldn't come out for all the treats in the world. Eventually I managed to convince him I was done grooming him and that indeed I did love him and that I really meant no harm. But I don't think he's actually forgiven me yet. Yesterday after work it was so beautiful the three of us got in a car and drove to the marina where it was foggy and cold (go figure...we were looking for sunlight and this is where Jim took us.) And Clifford for the first time in a car cried. He was not happy. I don't know where he thought he was going. To be professionally groomed? To the vet? To the kennel? To the airport? I don't know, but he's never been worried in the car before. Only when we got out and he realized we were in a park did he seem to be okay. Poor dog. What have I done to him?

So to recap, the economy is causing bookstores to close, muni drivers to be unusually ornery, and dachshunds to fret. Man, it's tough in California.

Cake or Death?

PSSWR - mini pt. 2

UPS Kelly is in!! And she promises that, while her boobs are no longer engorged she will flounce them about for us.

Okay maybe she didn't say that, but it makes for a really funny visual.

PSSWR - mini

Wingal and I need a vacation, or at the very least something to look forward to. Therefore we are instituting a mini PSSWR, or PSSWR 2.0 for you librarians.

May 22-25. Three days at a cottage that sleeps 6, $120 per-person if we can get 4 of us ($80pp if we have all 6). Same general location as last year, just a bit closer to Bully Hill. (Seriously they did call me about 2 weeks ago and Dan asked "so when are you and the girls coming back?" Presumably he didn't mean my tits).

Let me know if you're in or thinking about it...

Your presence is requested

Ladies,

Your (our) presence has been requested.

Seriously.

They called me.

Chicken-man, Chicken-man, Chicken-man hold my hand!

The Collection Assistant, being very excited about decorating the library, not only found a 5 ft picture of a man in red pajamas with white pok-a-dots sporting horns, a mustache and beard, and a pitchfork, but also found a black-face chicken-man in a top hat which she brought to the attention of the Assistan Librarian. As the Assistant Librarian surveyed both pictures she was vaugely attracted to the Chicken-man picture..."There's just something about a Chicken-man that's horribly fascinating" Unfortunately for the Chicken-man, his white eyeballs not only creeped out the Assistant Librarian once in place, but also the Head Librarian. And so the Chicken-man, despite his Indigo Girls musical inspiration went back to the office of the Exhibitions Coordinator. Instead of Chicken-man three smaller and less offensive pictures were hung in the back corner by the computer that may or may not ever be hooked up depending on when, if ever, the electrician decides to ACTUALLY show up.

It was with a sigh the Assistant Librarian looked around her library. While all the pictures except the ones the Exhibition Department were framing for her had been hung, the mythical electrican had not shown up. If she had not seen him that first time drilling a messy hole in the bottom of her desk that even Homer, the Library Mouse, could have made neater she might have thought he was one of those mythical beasts. Yes, the Chimera, the Spinx, the Dragon, and the Electrician. "Perhaps" She thought, "only one can exist at one time?" It had been several months since she had seen her dinosaur and he had disappeared almost with a "poof" without so much as a word and strangly he disappeared about the time the Electrician had popped in. "Hummm...I'll have to ask him where he goes when he isn't here." She thought. "Perhaps he belongs to Brigadoon or Shangra-La? Maybe I should call in Pelinor?" Anyway, it didn't matter no one knew where the mythical electrcian was, what he was doing, or when he was coming back. What a mystery!

With the opening of the museum happinging in less than 30 hours there was much to be done. However, despite the time crunch no one seemed particularly concerned. No one was running around hanging anything, no one was cleaning up their mess, and no one was delivering the labels nor the pictures the Assistant Librarian was promised before Saturday. "It's not like those pictures can hang themselves!" And with the Collection's Assistant gone for the day, the Assistant Librarian was on her own to try and hang stuff straight with the aid of a frighteningly tall ladder in a city and building that shook like a bowl of jelly. There was nothing to be done for it. She could not force the exhibitions department to move any faster than they were and she couldn't actually tell anyone what to do. She could only clean up her own mess and perhaps catalog some books in the museum database, file some archival stuff, and stress. Or she could run up the street to get Peet's coffee like the Cataloger. Perhaps, she could do it all and make the day both produtive and less drearly. If only her mp3 player wasn't out of juice. If only her computer was new enough to have a USB port to recharge it. It was a good thing the Exhibitions Coordinator hadn't realized that the Collection Assistant hadn't returned the borrowed boom box yet. It might be a lonely day, but it wouldn't have to be silent.

Dissertating, pt. 2

I gave Larry back the edited chapter. I think it looks much better. . .

Dissertating

Larry had been working very hard on his latest chapter and asked his wife to take a look and do some basic editing. She was excited and said "yes" without hesitation. Though when Larry proudly handed his wife his recenly completed chapter, she began to have her doubts. . .

Jesus Christ! Superstars!!

It was a dark but not even remotely stormy night. I was trying to fall asleep on my futon, mind racing from a day spent freaking the hell out about my dissertation. Basking in the pale green glow of the shamrock lights that adorned my livingroom windows, I lazily flipped channels in an effort to lull myself into sleep-mode. A slip of the finger [read: klutzy moment] and suddenly I had dropped my remote whilst simultaneously (and Oh-so accidentally) turning on the RELIGIOUS channel... the home-access type religious channel. In a panic I groped around on the floor (finding only dust-bunnies), desperate to save myself from "SAVING" myself, when my eye caught on the phrase "Ann Bancroft as Mary Magdalene." I was irrevocably glued. Do you have ANY idea how many fantastic movie stars appeared in Zefferelli's "Jesus of Nazareth"????? It's positively shocking. Go to IMDB and see for yourselves.

Honestly, I just watched the opening credits, jaw ajar; but still, it's completely insane. Even Mel Gibson couldn't get that many famous people to be in a Jesus movie.

Ultimately, I was NOT going to be falling asleep to bitching Pharisees, whining Judas, and a somber and morose Christ... or that ridiculous actor who I really hate but can never remember the name of who played John the Baptist. Instead, I put on a CD of Henry Rollins and fell asleep to his dulcet tones. Pleasant dreams naturally ensued thereafter.

Burn Baby, Burn! Disco Inferno!

And so life in the Muesum continued until one day when the under-qualified, overly gay reception person suddenly noticed the room he now inhabited was dark orange/red. "Sign me up for a pair of Elton John sunglasses and put horns on my head!" He shouted with some enthusiasm. While others standing outside the door wondered at the olive green wall and glass door exposing the red interior and wondered why they suddenly wanted a pimento olive and quite possibly a martini to cope with the recent disaster of color. "Dear God," thought the Assisant Librarian, "who in their right mind would chose such a color?" as she stopped at the recently painted red door with her color swatches of blue. "Well," said the director, "I just think that blue is too cool for that library and you need to warm it up with red, yellow or green." "Green? Is green a warm color?" She asked astounded. "Why yes, in some hues like the one outside it is." And so the Assistant librarian returned to her poorly lit library and stared through the odd green light that eminated from the ceiling and thought to herself "ewww" and dragged the Collection Assistant back over with her to "discuss" the color blue again. And lo, the angles smiled down upon them of the Masters of Library Science and granted unto them the right to paint one alcove blue, albeit not the color they actually wanted, but a good second choice, and the librarians smiled, for although they were laid upon by much guilt in their direction for not chosing red, the librarians were happy and that's all that really mattered that day.

why God exists

My main job here anymore seems to be offering up other websites for my bitches to enjoy. I think it's because I have only a very limited set of ideas and I must use them all on my own blog because otherwise I won't have a blog. And how terrible would that be. So here's a list of arguments for the existance (existence? Why can I suddenly not spell this?) of God that I think is awesome (the very awesomeness of it proving that God exists because only He could create such awesomeness.)

Have fun reading this out loud to passersby while you should be working!

Star Trek

Yowzah! Star Trek as far as the eye can see!

Moving light-years ahead, technologically

This is to announce that Wingal, at long last, owns a camera-phone. In fact, she owns a PINK camera-phone. It is all very exciting. It also gave her an excuse not to spend a slavish evening strapped to her computer. Instead, she entered friends into the Contacts list and purchased ring-tones.

When normal people call: "In-na-gadda-da-vida"

When my brothers or "bruthas by otha muthas" (Keith, Eric, and Larry) call: "Kashmir"

And when my Sexybitches call: "Tainted Love"

I'll do better in the future... some day you'll all have separate and terribly appropriate ring-tones. I almost bought "Free Bird" and assigned it to Boobarella, except that song is SO DULL. Yesterday was my first foray into a world formerly unknown to me... the cellular world. Now I just need to encourage people to start calling my cell phone, so I can listen to it be awesome. And I have 250 text messages a month... who'm I gonna write to?? And where do I get the supa-fantastic ringtones like what Boobarella has? Cuz I don't know...

This would come in handy. . .

Nothing can go wrong up here.

Wingal smiled slyly to herself. Tonight would be an excellent night. And with Boobarella and the Pussyfooters backing her up, nothing could go wrong.

Nothing.

Like a frat boy on a Friday night

Wingal berated last night me for not posting this story of me in the grocery store.

But first a little back ground:


So we brought home another pug a few months ago. His name is Mooch, he's 7 and he is the sire of our other two pugs. All was relatively well. Mooch & Fez weren't getting a long at all (still don't really) but all in all we were doing okay. And then one day, about a month after we brought him home, Mooch couldn't pee. We brought him in to the vet and the vet found a stone in his wenis. Well she got one out but said there was a second and we ended up having to go out to another vet at an animal hospital that is nicer than my doctor's office. Long story short, the poor guy was in the hospital for a week with bladder stones.

When we went to pick him up to come home we met with the nurse, excuse me, vet tech about the care and change in diet Mooch was going to need. He needed one drug for pain (morphine) one drug to ward off infections (one of the penicillin family), and a prescription for valium. The valium was for Mooch's wenis, which was swollen and, um, hanging low. Mooch pulled out his catheter twice, irritating the urethra and giving himself an infection and swelling the wenis. Also since it was hanging out...

"Are either of you allergic to latex," the vet tech asked?

"oh that is all you," I said to the husband.

"Since Mooch's member is outside of the sheath, it cannot self lubricate and it will need to be moistened several times a day. . ."

"how many," I interrupted?

"well, when it's dry, so 6 or 7 times a day maybe more. But you will also when lubing it need to give it a gentle shove to get the member to go back inside the sheath," the vet tech said with a straight face. I don't know how he did it. Larry was walking around with Mooch shaking his head and I was fighting back tears of laughter.

"you will need to buy more of this lube, you can get it at any pharmacy or probably at the grocery store."

"really? Oh what brand is it," I asked with the straightest face I could muster?

"K-y will be fine. . ."

I couldn't hold it any more I started laughing so hard I almost pee'd.

"But," the vet tech said, "not the warming kind."

"what about the scented?" I asked wiping the tears from my cheeks.

Finally he started laughing too. Larry however was not amused as he was looking at Mooch's wenis and realized this was his heft to bear.

So the next day I left the men all at home and I went out to the grocery store to get the prescription filled as well as the other supplies we were going to need for Mooch. So I bring the 'script to the pharmacist and head off to get the other items on my list while I waited. Latex gloves, check. K-y, check. oh hey that wine we like is on sale, okay 2 bottles of wine, check. My name was called by the pharmacist and I retrieved Mooch's valium. And then I looked in my basket...

I had:
2 bottles of wine
a box of latex gloves
a tube of K-y
20 pills of valium

I looked like a frat boy getting ready for a Friday night. Panicking that I now looked like a date rapist, I decided I also needed boneless skinless chicken breast and thing of cookie dough.

Now I looked like a date rapist who would first serve dinner and cookies.

I paid and left the store as fast as I could.

The Sky is Falling!

In the midst of our lovely California weather...rain every day...numerous things have been dropping out of the sky onto my head in a rather unpleasant fashion. I don't know what god has marked me out as the celestial target of choice, but I'm tired of washing my hair!!

Incidently I just want you all to know that bird poo is lucky. No one wants to get near you, no one wants to touch you, and everyone feels sorry for you. Hence it's lucky. Somehow Muni instictively knew I got clobbered by a pack of wild birds outside the public library and sent an N right away to pick me up with no one on it. Wow. Now that's service. I mean, I wan't even waiting more than 45 secords, my co-worker barely had time to pull the poo out of my hair with a tissue! (What a friend! Definately a keeper!) However, I'm not exactly sure dirt and rust dripping from the ceiling onto my head was so lucky. In fact I think it felt rather toxic and burned my scalp. But I do have a vivid imagination and it might not have been the asbestos...Nothing good happened other than watching 9 new drips open up like a faucet in the new museum/former library that sounded like a Stomp concert. It was kind of like my own private revenge set to music. And now it's raining...again...like it has done for the last two weeks. At least I haven't been hit by any item from the space station yet, toilet seat or not.

The wheels on the bus go round and round.

It's so depressing, I'm not actually sure I can make this at all entertaining. I actually did write a song for this, but it really didn't convey the horror and futility of it all.

So the year started out bright on the morning of Januaray 2nd. I caught the muni and headed down town to work. Yeah, problem was I wasn't on an N, I was on a J because instead of going into the tunnel like it was supposed to it turned the corner. Now normally I don't look because I live off the N line so why would a J be going up my street? It's a very good question and I just can't answer it. So anyway, when we all realized we were on a J the ENTIRE 2 train Muni got off and hopped on a J that was headed into the tunnel. And we all got on. Then we were told they were stuck and we should get on the one in front of us. So we all got off and we all got on the new one and were told that we'd be there a while and that we could board the shuttle bus that just pulled up behind us. So we all got off and we all got on and I sat down and I looked and that stupid Muni train went into the tunnel! So there I was on a shuttle bus. The bus pulled away from the curb and went 1/2 a block and says: "We're only making one stop. This bus goes only to Embarcadero" So I got off the bus because I need to go to Van Ness which is the next stop up and I walked over to the very touristy F train. Waited 10 minutes, got on, got to Van Ness, got off and was 30 min. late for work. Fun, fun, fun!

Then there was January 7th. Instead of driving to work after my dentist appointment, I thought I'd be smart and drive home, take muni in and save myself the parking woes. Wrong choice apparently. So 5:30 came and I headed to Muni. I just missed the first train, so I hopped the second. We pulled out of the tunnel and the driver announced that there was a problem on the line and we'd be stopping at Hillway. What? Hillway? No one had ever heard of it. Anyway, it was too late to go back and hop an L, so I went to the Hillway stop and waited for the fabled shuttle buses. The drivers failed to tell us we needed to walk to the next stop down, they didn't tell us what the problem was on the tracks, they just dumped all 600 people at Hillway and expected everyone to figure it out. Well, some smart soul called the Muni hotline and found out that a Muni ran over a 90 year old pedestrian at 9th, there was a car accident on the tracks at 19th, and there was a transformer out at the beach. Clearly I wasn't getting home. Oh and they were only sending 2 shuttle buses for all those people. One to go up Judah, one to go down. I walked. I walked home. You know how far that is? Let me tell you...44 blocks. I walked 44 blocks home. I saw the accident at 9th, I didn't see anything at 19th, I saw the packed shuttle bus pass me at 23rd, and by the time I crosses 43rd I heard the N pull up behind me on it's tracks and let people off. So frustrating!

And then there was January 16th. Muni, in particular the N again, ran over yet another pedestrian at 28th and killed them. The L apparently only managed to smack into a car and seriously injure 2 people, however that is also in the Sunset so it doesn't really say much for our transportation service does it? I know most people consider this a "Dead End Zone," I just never realized how "dead" it was. I know the mayor wants to improve Muni service, but honestly I don't think his intention was to kill the potential passengers, I'm pretty certain he wanted to just add more trains!

Anyway, I really miss driving my car. I really miss being the only person in the car. I really miss not having to push my way into the car and fight for a hand grip. However, my front tire is too low to drive and I don't have to park Muni. Not to mention I am so getting plenty of exercise this way!

You asked for it Jenny...

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
a tale of a Museum growing.
That started with a Library
and the space it was employing.

The Director was an ambitious man,
the Board was just the same.
Four Librarians packed up the books
and moved them all away.

And moved them all away.
(sound of rolling book trucks)

The books were very cumbersome,
the archive files were slick.
If not for the strength of the Librarians
the Library would be lost,
the Library would be lost.

The Library moved in its' new home,
a dark and cold sad room,
with the Archivist, the Cataloger,
the Collections Assistant, and their books,
the Volunteers, and the files,
here in the Library!

So this is the tale of Librarians,
they're here for three more years.
They'll have to make the best of things
this place makes us quite scared.

The Archivist and the Collections Assistant
will do their very best,
to make the others comfortable
in their dismal dank dark nest.

No phones! No lights! No Internet!
Not a single luxury,
like Librarians of the 1980's,it's primative as can be.
So join us here each day my friends,
to experience Libraries past,
from three stranded Librarians,
here in our Library!

The Most Miserable Break EVER.

You want to know why Wingal disappeared? Well, she usually does over Christmas, what with the family and all the stress the season brings. But the last three and a half weeks of my life SUCKED. Warning: this will in NO way be "entertaining" in the enjoyable sense of that word.

I arrived home to Cincinnati to discover that, however much I hadn't wanted it to be true, my best little friend of nearly 18 years had been released from the world. Abby was put to sleep on November 27th, two days after I left her; her dementia worsened considerably after I left and it was more than my parents could bear to watch. They didn't tell me by my own request, as I wanted the love of family around me when I learned the news. So, three or four quite miserable days. But I have her ashes and a lock of her hair, and a small but slowly healing hole in my heart.

Then Christmas, which was as nice as it could be, considering the circumstances.

The day after Christmas I came down with a violent stomach flu, so awful and miserable that I was forced to cancel my plane to Chicago and my job interview. Yep. Oh, and I could barely eat for five days. Wonder of wonders, the interviewer called me several days later and I had a phone interview on the 1st, but her questions were odd and unexpected, and the day by which they would set up on-campus interviews came and went with silence.

Then my mom and I went and picked out a cherry-wood box and plaque for Abby's ashes.

Then I had a 24 hour fever/virus thing. And two days later I came down with sinusitis, which viciously turned into a week-long struggle, which then even more viciously turned into a severe inner ear infection, for which I had to go to Urgent Care yesterday and yes, oh yes, cancel my first class of History of the English Language today because I'm STILL IN CINCINNATI recovering from all this diseased misery and taking more medication than anyone should, and totally unfit to operate a motor vehicle or any other large mechanized equipment because of my cough medicine, which contains VICODINE. Tomorrow, I finally drive back to the hell-hole from which I came, where I have to prepare to teach class Wednesday. And where I have merely 1.5 months to write 4 chapters of a dissertation.

You all may want to start calling to check on me periodically, as it's only a matter of time before some other catastrophe occurs.

Hope you all are well. I'm at the "Wish I Were Dead" point, personally.

15 Minutes of Total Boredom

Alright, I need us all to get a little more on the ball with our neglected Midnight Margaritas blog. Except for Erika, who is doing a decent job. I am now an Etsy fan.

So I have been forced to start coming in 15 minutes earlier to work in the mornings for the rest of my forseeable future here, and it doesn't mean that I get to leave 15minutes later. No. It means that I get to have 15 more minutes of lunch. Which pisses me off. Why the hell do I have to sit here for 15 additional minutes every single day during which I accomplish exactly nothing job-related? And no - I refuse to end lunch early. I have my pride.

And that brings me to Midnight Margaritas. I need something to read. Something entertaining and challenging in the way only you ladies can be challenging. Something about muni or Felicia Nimue or gay people. Or possibly all three at once. What an ambitious post that would be!

Is anyone there? Sam, is California still attached to the rest of the continent? Erika, did you have a fun birthday involving lots of chickens? And Laura...once again, the silence of the internet begs the question: Where is Laura? Is she at home? Has a poisonous fog emanated from her dissertation and caused her to collapse in agony on her office floor? (And if so, can we hear the full story?)

like crack...

As per usual, I'm willing to bet I am the last person to learn about this website, but I have to tell you about www.etsy.com It's all handmade goodies by people from all over the world. And while yeah, there is some crap out there, there is some crazy great things. I have already made a huge wish list and a nice list of artists that I would buy more than once piece if I could. Like this chick called "the black apple," I would buy (and probably will) a lot more of her pieces.

Merry Christmas Ladies!

When you get tired of the family and Uncle Mike's nasty sweater, get on this website and make your own...

http://weloveholidaysweaters.wehatesheep.com/

BOK BOK BOK!

IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY WHAT A GREAT DAY FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY
BOK BOK BOK!

Ass... Flaming

First, let me just say that I am a stone-cold FOX today, ladies. It's rare, but it does happen occasionally and, when it does, I'm not afraid to declare it. As my and Jenny's friend "Funky Cold Mawiah" used to say, "I look cute today." My hair defies description, it looks so fabulous... people in the coffee shop were staring after I walked in, and I know it was because of this hair. If I weren't in a terribly public place I would SO photobooth my picture right now and post it. *SIGH*

But this post isn't meant to be drenched in vanity. When I said "ass... flaming," it wasn't because I'm smokin' hot (though, I have to say....).

There's that expression, "Lit a fire under my/his/her ass." Last Thursday, when Moonracer presented my Magic Bottle and said he wanted to have a dissertation he could brag about and that mine would be a "quite distinguished one," THAT was lighting a fire under my ass. Yesterday, he skipped ahead and actually lit my ass ON FIRE... when he said he was actually contacting the Grand Poobah so they can SET the date for my dissertation Defense. Today he said it will be no later than April 30th.

He also said that, if I fail to finish on time, he will ship me off to Central Asia. Exile. The place he thinks I will be farthest from communication with the outside world. My dad's response to this? "You'd better hope he does that before we have the opportunity to shoot you."

Where's the nearest burn unit?

Flight of the Conchords

Ladies...it's business time.

oh!

Ladies, I may be one of the last people ti learn about this website, www.pandora.com, but I had to tell you about it if you don't know about it. I went after reading today's Doonesbury. It's amazingly fun if you like music, and I know you all do. and it's free. oh yeah, free.

go, go now.

and also I have sprained my ankle for the 5th time. yeah, good times.

Why I will not ever be a children's librarian

So...I was called 'unethical' by several of my archives classmates because I referred to 7th graders as having "little hands" and being "squirrely" in nature. The people in the class complained about the code of ethics blah blah blah. Look fact of the matter, I'm not a fan of kids. I'm not unethical, I'm just mean.

Happy Turkey Day!

TRAPPED pt. 3

I applied for a job at Northwestern U today too. It seemed like the thing to do. Mostly b/c I really can't see m yself at this job much longer. It pains me tro come in most days. But isn't that what work is supposed to be?

TRAPPED pt. 2

Why did they give me a laptop to play with during this meeting? All it does is temp me to do live blogging, like I'm a secret operative or something....

Why I'm Wicked Intelligent

I will admit that THIS gave me a bit of a self esteem boost today.

And provided me with yet another reason why men should be seeking me out to have their babies.

TRAPPED

trapped in meeting, send help & vodka

Photogenically Challenged

It did not occur to me that people never take normal pictures of me until Laura called tonight, causing me to get out the photo album of the time I went to visit her in St. Louis. Note that in almost all these pictures, you can actually see the demon alcohol that facilitated these scenes.



















And there are more.

Oh, there are more.

I would like to go back to that winery.

Laura

On her skills: "I am a thief and an adulterer...and I know how to dance."

On Jesus: "Jesus was our people."

On dreams: "'Do we have a radio and a straw?'...Yes, we did, so i took the radio and put the straw into the radio somehow and blew into it and it was like morse code and my friend the vampire came to rescue us. But he took his time getting there."

lamest post ever. sorry.

So are we going to meet for mimosas and witty banter again this Thanksgiving?

I'm at work. And all I can think about is mimosas and turkeys. What does that say about my job? What does that say about me? And, perhaps more importantly, what does that say about you?

I'm not so sure about the company you all keep...

When I Became Lame

Once upon a time, I spent most of my time having a lot of fun. Especially during THIS season of year. As a kid, I think we all remember the gleeful enjoyment Halloween brought... when the most stressful part of life was deciding what you were going to dress up as (though this was not terribly stressful for me, as I was often forced to be the same thing two or three years in a row because my family didn't really have much money for such frivolities... "Hello, I'm E.T.... again...").

In college, this time of year meant Hayrides... Delta Zeta hayrides (which involved a "Mystery Date," God help me, and I always knew who it was) and, far more importantly, DELT HAYRIDE. I was reminded of this by a recent post Jenny made on her blog. But there was no Delt Mystery Punch at Delt Hayride. There were only jugs and jugs and jugs of Delt Hard Cider... Delt Hayride was the one night in the live-long year that I didn't mind using Port-a-Potties... and using them frequently.

At WMU, the Goliards had their infamous Halloween parties. The first year I was hit on by a Theology student dressed as Mojo-JoJo (from the Power Puff Girls); the second year I was asked to perform lewd acts with a Flying Monkey who was in an "open marriage." I try not to remember the third year.

So, when did I get to be so lame? When did I start resorting to carving pumpkins alone in my apartment and watching PBS specials on Giant Pumpkin growers? We know when it was... it didn't come with an age, it came with a territory. And now I just have to hope that, when I leave Misery, my lameness will go away and I'll become cool again. Because seriously, I am quickly becoming a LOSER.

Am I the only one who feels this way?

Music, or lack thereof

I love my husband. Lets just start out with that.

I love my husband. But what the hell is this. . . I hesitate to call it "music". . .he put on the stereo??

We're supposed to be doing homework and studying. Who can concentrate with this bizzare orgasm of crap comeing out of the speakers? It's like Kenny G died and his zombie came back with Doug Henning and made this.

I feel like I am either:
1) shopping for furniture
2) shopping for furniture in the early 80's
3) shopping for furniture on a game show

I know he doesn't like, and merely humors me by listening to, a good portion (say 60%) of the music I like. And I respect that everyone has different musical tastes. And I try really hard not to play the Bjork when he's home and have pretty much limited her to my iPod.

But I have never been in an elevator and had someone say "wow this is great, I wonder if I can get this at the music store?" But apparently some one does sell those cds some place, b/c we have at least one.

I love my husband, and would move to South Dakota for him if the need arose. But this music. . .this I cannot do.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JENNY!!!!!

Or, as Boobarella and Wingal sing it:

"It's your birthday, it's your birthday!
What a great day for your birthday!
Bock, Bock, BOCK!!!!!!"

(Imagine us dressed as chickens.)

Have a great birthday!!!! I love you!!! Oh, and your package is in the mail... or will be just as soon as I finish drinking my coffee and hustle over to the post office. Stupid Christopher Columbus and his day of honor...

An argument with Pam

Pam Cooking Spray. All Natural No-Stick Cooking Spray. 100% Olive Oil.

Well let me take a look here. . .I’ll be damned there is a whole nutritional label!? On Pam? The serving size is, let’s see here…”1/3 second spray”

WTF??? A third of a second? Who in the world not only got paid to sit in a lab and work on this, but actually pays attention to this!?!? I mean come on! A third of a second? "OMG how long did you spray that? oh I am going to be soo fat.." Or better yet: Conversations form the Lab

*SCHPRRT*

Nope, too much fat

*SCHPRT*

Still way too much.

*SCHP*

Almost!

*SP*

No, now that is too little

*SCH*

YES! That’s it! Dude we got it! Hey do you think we can do whip-it’s off this?

Oh and by the way, I read the ingredients. It’s not 100% Olive Oil. They also list “Grain Alcohol, Soy Lecithin, and Propellant.” So, wait, if there is grain alcohol in this, can our Muslim friends use it?

Random Observations

Four things are distressing me this Monday morning:

1. No matter how early I get to school, I have still accomplished virtually NOTHING by the time I have to go assist with the Old English class at 1:10.

2. Some anonymous person labeled the picture of Cedric I posted in my cubicle: "Portrait of Gertrude Stein's Cat." And last I checked I was decidedly NOT Gertrude Stein.

3. The smell of the English Department's powdered creamer for the coffee was familiar to me; unfortunately, when I realized a while later that the smell was familiar because it was exactly like the smell of pet store fish food, I had to spit all my coffee back into my mug and try hard to keep breakfast from rejoining me on my desk.

and 4. There's a long-lost member of the "Rat Pack" who sits outside our building every morning, wearing some sort of pin-striped three-piece suit and a fodora, and smoking a cigar. EVERY DAY. He's a GRADUATE STUDENT. Let's face it, what distresses me most about it is that I feel I ought to start dressing like Grace Kelly or Audrey Hepburn or something... I need a shitty printed dress and a vagina hat, clearly. Then when I approach the building he can call me "doll-face" and I can have low self-esteem, overly red lipstick, and a secretarial job.

eharmony safety check-in person

My friend Jenny has a date with someone she met on eHarmony tonight. And I get to be her "check-in" person. This means when she says the safe word I stop smacking her with the cheese wheel...no wait that's with Larry...sorry, no, with Jenny it means that she is to call me and let me know where she is going and when and when she should be back and then she calls me when she gets back so 1) I know she's safe and 2) I can find out all the details from the date. It's like a built in gossip protection. I love it. Also she made me a badge:

A note from BHV

I got a case of wine from Bully Hill today. Upon opening I found an envelope:



Inside the envelope was a wee note and a present. Gee, think they remembered us?

The Raveonettes: Part II

I wanted to post the Raveonettes song below:

A. on my blog

B. followed by this explanatory message

and

C. because it was going to be the soundtrack for my evening. But it's been so long since I started trying (and failing for some reason) to accomplish any of the above that it doesn't really represent my mood anymore. But it's still a good song.

The Ravonettes - Love In A Trash Can

Tequila Thoughts

I feel like the Phantom of the Opera - invisible as I go about tweaking things here and there behind the scenes, wearing a weird half-mask to hide my monstrous visage, yet even with my hideousness able to seduce unassuming buxom young ladies...watch out, Boobarella. You're next.

AHA AHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (ECHO echo echooooo...)

So, do you all like the title picture? I hope so. I sacrificed for it. I had to make (and drink) an entire margarita all by myself in order to make it happen (wiping flour off brow).

In fact I'm still drinking it...mmm, icy cold, tart margarita not-from-a-mix...end-of-summer...only 97 degrees outside...mmmm.

Also I just climbed out of the Rainbow Star Pool, so my core temperature is nice and chilly.

Someday you all should just come out to Tucson for parties and drinks and warm weather when it's cold everywhere else and I'm too poor to travel (you will conveniently have thought ahead and saved up, of course). It could be a PSSWR Spring Break or something. I'll kick Raphael out and we'll all sack out all over the floor. Boobarella could bring a bunch of Bully Hill wines to crack open on the patio and we could drink margaritas in Mexico, flipping our hair at the vendors who call us "Barbie" as we walk by. Oh, and they will. We could look at saguaros, and barbeque in the backyard, and make fun of Wingal all day long if we wanted to.

It would be alsome.


P.S. If anyone hates the picture, feel free to remove it. Likewise with any of the template changes I happen to make.

2. I am thirty-something. What does this mean for my future in terms of cake?

First, I would like to say that at PSSWR Boobarella promised to help me find a cake-making buddy and clearly it was just an empty promise and she doesn't really love me. :(

But my response to Jenny's topic 2 is:

At 30-something I have given up on cake. I've decided to switch to pie... it's all about the filling, you can be really creative with it (lots of experimentation), and they don't all require baking.

Wait... what am I talking about?

6. I think (name) at work has a dark secret. Conjecture.

Indeed. We have a newish hire, and I will withhold the name b/c god forbid someone here figures out that I am Boobarella & that I post on this blog. Nonetheless, I have a coworker who I believe to be a she-male. That's right I said it, a she-male. She's very tall and has a very deep voice and walks sort of hunched over. Very manish gait. All very disturbing. Especially when she talks about her husband.

8. I have a dark secret. Discuss.

My dark secret is that I love the Brachs Mellowcreme Pumpkins. Not so much the candy corn or any of the other nasty Halloween candy, but my god these pumpkins I cannot be with out. I have only really met one other person who feels as I do, my boss's wife. and so every year I buy her bag when I see them in the store. I swear I could eat the whole thing in one sitting, except that I would probably die from sugar shock.

Topics

I figured I'd better get this blog rolling again since we're all such incredible slackers. God.

Following is a list of possible topics which are coming into my head as we speak. I have stayed away from politics and religion, but as rant topics, they are, of course, always welcome:

1. I will never be a collector of... Elaborate.

2. I am thirty-something. What does this mean for my future in terms of cake? Whatever connotation of the word "cake" you wish to use is acceptable.

3. I still have an urge to stuff (name of nemesis here) in a locker. Elaborate.

4. For our next PSSWR vacation, we should go to... Discuss.

5. I love three things about my pet. Elaborate.

6. I think (name) at work has a dark secret. Conjecture.

7. You bitches are all crazy. Specifically... Elaborate.

8. I have a dark secret. Discuss.

9. My name is really... Reveal.

10. I can come up with better conversation topics than you, obviously. Add them to the list.


Okay. Now someone write an inspired post for me to read at work.

Adventures in Air-Conditioning

So, I don't usually name my a/c units, but now that the one in the livingroom is dead I think he should be named. Hmmm....

Elmer died. Actually, Elmer's been dead for the last two weeks (which makes it even more disgusting that I've left him hanging in the livingroom window). Because I hope to remove myself from Sad Loser, Misery next May/June, I really didn't want to spring $170 for Elmer's replacement. I thought that perhaps I could survive the next month and a half with dead Elmer... but Ma'am Nature isn't cooperating. It's supposed to be over 100 degrees every day this week with equally awful humidity. So Kami and I went in search of... a new Elmer. Lowe's had none. Home Depot had none. Walmart had one that would never fit in my window. Target had one that was $169 and, because I'm cheap, I refused it. KMart had a ton of them but the cheapest was $169 and, as I've already mentioned, I'm cheap. Frustrated and miserable from having to be out in the weather for so long, Kami and I went to Dairy Queen and had enormous chocolate-strawberry sundaes in waffle bowls. Because our mood was greatly improved, we went to Best Buy where they had 8 a/c units, the cheapest one at $115 (but only big enough to cool a room the size of my shoe). The next cheapest was $159, so I just had to suck it up and purchase Elmer II. He has yet to be installed. I'm hoping my Viking friend Eirikr will be able to do the job when he returns to town today or tomorrow.

Anyway, Elmer II having been purchased and it being 9:45 at night, I dropped Kami off at her house and headed to my own... halfway there, my phone rang. "Umm... can you come back here?" Kami asked. I could tell by her voice that something was wrong. As it turned out, something WAS wrong... her back door was open, her diningroom light was on, her attic door was open, and her attic light was on. In other words, her house had every appearance of having been broken into. After getting caught behind some drag-racers who were VERY annoyed that people like myself kept coming near them in such a position as would allow us to report them to the police, they sped off and I got to Kami's where we waited for the unusually competent Sad Loser, Misery Po-Po to show up about ten minutes later. They did a walk through, but found nothing (though they commented that she had quite the load of cash on her washer). Then they went to check out the drag-racers I told them about. After checking under all the beds ourselves, I left Kami there freaking out enough to want me (and we all know how high maintenance I am) to stay the night. Um, no. But she didn't want to stay in my dead-Elmer livingroom (not that I blame her), so she called another friend to come over and I returned home to my miserable apartment and my dying-of-starvation cat who, once fed, continued to badger, yell, and swat at me for the next hour as punishment for feeding him a half hour late.

By the way, you will be happy to know that Kami was not bludgeoned to death in her sleep that night. I called to check.

Birth Announcement

On Thursday, August 9, 2007, at approximately 4:36 p.m. Wingal was pleased to deliver into this world a healthy, 41-paged dissertation chapter. The child of her genius--affectionately referred to as "Adam"--is only 3 pages premature, requiring a minor 3-page insertion somewhere near his introduction (the procedure is scheduled to take place early next week, after Mother has recovered sufficiently from the delivery).

In other news, Wingal plans on beginning work on her second child some time later next week. As Mother's gestation periods are unusually short, she hopes to deliver "Benjamin" into the world sometime before the conclusion of this month.

And yes, Wingal's chapters are being named after the 7 backwoodsmen of one of her favorite musicals.... all except for the 8th and final dissertation chapter, whom she intends to name "Fin".

Flight Of The Conchords - Foux Da Fa Fa

Uh. Apparently we should all be watching these guys all the time. I especially like it when he says "pamplemousse," a word which, strangely, I totally remember from high school French.

LA TIGRESA DEL ORIENTE-LA ANACONDA

This reminded me of some of you guys. Most of you guys.

my daily laugh

I see this everyday on my way to work. And you know, all it does is make me want to use "awesome" in a sentence.

Dear Sweet Mother of Merlin...

Not to labor over long on the topic of Felicia Nimue, but I have no choice but to share this with you all... Jenny has only ever heard of FNA's oddities, while the rest of us have had the pleasure of witnessing some of them first-hand. My quest was to find a picture of the elusive subterranean lifeform, but instead I found THIS.

Who knew she was so prolific? Who knew her letters to the Editor would kick my ass? (Do read them.)

Who knew she'd been published in PLAYGIRL?

"Michael Bolton" Literally Rears His Head

I was catching up on the Divine Ms. Lisa's LJ and I found the following... so, for those of you who have only heard of "Michael Bolton" and the Congress Dance, I present you with PROOF.

Also, today's bit of hilariously disturbing information: They're making an animated "Ten Commandments." The voice of Moses? Christian Slater. The voice of God? Elliott Gould.

It's official: I want to be a casting director.

Back to BSC

It's no Gay Boys, but somehow I randomly stumbled on a blog that is apparently dedicated to discussion of Claudia's clothing choices in The Babysitters Club. I thought you'd be interested.

And it's weirdly appropriate that I found this today because...

Our first Midnight Margaritas post was unveiled one year ago YESTERDAY! Happy anniversary, biatches! I say we all leave work early and go have a glass of wine to celebrate.

Cheers!

SoM FYI

Just wanted you ladies who may not follow the website done by Boobarella and Wingal's favorite Gay Boys, their superfantastic Musical Mondays the past two have been done for "The Sound of Music." And as EVERYONE knows THAT musical, I'm going to have to insist that you check the posts out. Probably easiest, once you get to the site, to click on "Musical Mondays" on the right side of the page.

I was particularly amused by the phrase: "Before the Baroness has even had a chance to call a cab, the Captain is off to get him some nun."

I'm on Page 133

What page are you on?

Wingal: Pie-maker.

Having an internetifical moment to myself for the first time in a long time, I feel it is appropriate for me to check in with all of you briefly and tell you about my new life mission... I want to make pies.

I want to be the person who shows up with a pie at a party and all the people in the room say to each other in hushed tones, "Oh, Wingal makes the BEST pies" or "Have you ever had one of Wingal's pies?" or "Please God, tell me it's one of her famous chocolate pies" or "Damn her and her fantastic shoes" (all the attention shouldn't actually be on my pies... I don't want them to be the only things I'm known for). This is all the result of seeing the movie "Waitress" with Keri Russell. Admittedly, I went to a movie starring the former Felicity with great trepidation, but I was seriously rewarded for my courage and I have to insist that you all see it just as soon as it hits your local video store. I was mesmerized not only by the numerous pie-making scenes in the film, but also by the creativity-factor involved in pie-making... they can be completely experimental and individual. And she NAMED her pies and we all know how much I love to name things (which is not to say that I'd show up to a party and introduce everyone to my pie, Bertrand Cooper, the Third). Keri's character created pies purely based on her mood and life-experiences (so you can anticipate that one of mine will be called "This Goddamned Dissertation Is Going to Be the Death of Me Pie"), and she sang a song about making pie... a song which was irremoveably carved into my brain and has been playing on repeat ever since.

It's possible, I suppose, that there was some kind of subliminal experiment involved in the making of the movie. Hmmm....

All I know is that I'm going to start making pies. And if you visit me, I'll make one and name it after you.

Boobarella Pie... it's a little like World Music...

Eww! Ryan had sex!!!

Hey guess what!? I'm going to be an aunt!!!!

Another vacation

I'm in need of another vacation. Just a 'quickie" if you will. Maybe a Friday to Monday. Any takers?