Unattended cars will be crushed and incinerated

Source: War, Inc.

John Cusack is pretty hit or miss for me. Ok, I've liked most of the stuff I've seen him in, but I just don't like HIM. He works in his roles. Although those roles seem to be a lot of belly button staring weenies. It's not even really that I've heard he's a first class prick in the real world. I don't know.

This was a pretty good movie. An in your face sort of satire, but I liked it. And it had a couple of lines that had me reaching for pen and paper.

Whose life is better because you woke up today?

Source: Will Smith

Taking a quick break from my sarcasm because this comment touched me. I like to think I'm a good person, but I don't know how much of a difference I make on a daily basis. Some days, I'm sure I do. Other days, I wonder if I'm part of the problem.

Perhaps the best we can do is be mindful of whether we're part of the problem or solution.

Alvin Tostig has a son today

Source: Levon by Elton John from the Madman Across the Water Album

Elton John and Bernie Taupin...a seriously amazing partnership over the years. With some seriously bizarre output.

He was born a pauper to a pawn
On a Christmas Day
When the New York Times said God is Dead

Um, what? But what sing-a-long type can resist belting that out along with Mr. Yellow Brick Road anytime they hear it?? I've always thought that Alvin Tostig sounded like the name of the OWNER of the NYT, though.

It's more a relentless narcissistic drone

Source: The Big Bang Theory

Sheldon is the most awesome, annoying character EVER. Every episode, I tell Mike that he must be killed. But of course, there would be show without him. Seriously, you must watch this show.

Black rain clouds never eat honey no not a nip...

Of course, this all starts with
I'm just a little black rain cloud,
hovering over the honey tree
I'm just a little black rain cloud,
Pay no attention to me

No, I'm not feeling black or rainy, but as I was being the queen of washable piddle pads last night this song kept going through my head. It's from Disney's Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree which I did not know until I just Googled it. What did we do before Google? And washable piddle pads?

Ah, someone's gonna comment on that. You see Alice, that 6 pound bundle of doggie joy that 2 months ago I would not have acknowledged as an actual dog, is a wee petite flower, kinda like me. Here in deepest, rainiest Seattle, well, the wet and rainy grass sorta brushes the girls nether regions if she goes outside to do her bidness. Which she does not do. She is box trained. Honest to Pete. But Lil' Miss Petite Flower had delicate paws, or so she seems to say with her upturned nose when I tried to put litter in her box. Piddle pad are her preference. And there's NO WAY I'm going to buy those disposable things. So, a trip to a couple thrift stores, $15 worth of old towels and flannel sheets, and voilà! Ok, so I had to cut 'em and sew 'em too. Hey, she's cleaner than those damned cats is ALL I'm saying!

You're the Milli Vanilli of Patriots

Source: Tropic Thunder
I rented this movie because Chris mentioned it. I vaguely remember seeing ads for it, but never paid any attention. Ben Stiller, Jack Black and Robert Downey, Jr. sounded like an extremely obnoxious combination. I was pleasantly surprised. Mike didn't like it as much as I did, which seems to be true for most of what I've brought home lately, including Son of Rambow, which I thought was more sweet than funny, though the sight gags were quite good.

Robert Downey, Jr. playing a 5-time oscar winning Aussie who is playing a black man for the movie within the movie is pretty awesome. Even better (and WAY freakin' creepier) is Tom Cruise who I'm not sure I would have recognized if I hadn't known he was in it somewhere. I do admit that after his final scene, I felt very, very dirty in the worst possible way. He played his part VERY well.

Anyway, decent movie.

Did you know that trying to flush voodoo dolls down the toilet is a bad idea?

Abby Sciuto on NCIS

Mike and I are almost at the end of Season 4 of NCIS. Great show. All the characters are extremely well written. Of all of them, though, Mike and I agree we would both leave one another for Pauley Perrette's character, Abby Sciuto. Amazing, kickass goth girl who hugs her farting rhino when she's sad and exhorts Major Mass (her Mass Spectrometer) to give up the answers. It stretches the limits of credibility ocassionally that she runs DNA and blood samples, analyzes ALL forensic evidence, and usually saves the case by tracing a cell phone call across 37 servers including 3 in outer Mongolia. But she makes it all believable.

Anyway, this quote comes from a scene where the team bursts in for some answers and she's a little dazed. Turns out she didn't get much sleep the night before because her apartment flooded. She asks Tony "Did you know that trying to flush voodoo dolls down the toilet is a bad idea?" to which he replies "I do now." Good information for us all, I think.

I just can't believe you only have TWO therapists

Source: Chris

Oh, of course there's more. This conversation started with the timesuck that is Facebook. Chris has an account now, and was wondering why. I pointed out it was a great way to get in touch with people you knew in high school, ex-wives, little brothers of ex-boyfriends...

Anyway, this led to comparisons of that sociopathic ex-boyfriend (um, yeah...that's a whole other freakin' blog) to my sociopathic finally dead ex-stepfather. After a few comments, Chris shuddered. I apologized briefly and said "You asked." And he responded with this quote. Which makes me giggle every time I repeat it.

If it was up your ass you'd know

Something Derrick Midkiff used to say when we were in high school

Derrick used to say this all the time when someone asked the location of some object. It never occurred to any of us to reply "Well, it's really not up my ass, which is why I enquire." Of course, I grew up with a bunch of military brats. They thought opening up a bag of potato chips flat on the counter, yelling "Potato Famine!" and going at it with their faces (hands held behind their backs) was the HEIGHT of hilarity. Maybe it was. We also liked to shoot bottle rockets out of moving vehicles and shoot Pepsi machines with BB pistols. I grew up in Podunkville, not a lot of trouble we could get into so we had to be VERY creative.

I felt like this a lot last week. Some people SERIOUSLY needed to look up their ass to find their head. "Here's this, can you figure it out?" Um, no. It's not my responsibility (it's yours), I don't actually know how this applies (it isn't the right info) and I'm currently doing the work of 2 people in half the time it should take. I'm totally not complaining about the last part. However I am SOOOO much less inclined to even feel SYMPATHY for others being even a little bit clueless.

That's one talented tallywhacker

It would seem that a gentleman named Daniel Shilts in Sheboygan was arrested for driving "OWI" (which seems to Wisconsin's equivalent to "you drank too much and got into your car, dumb ass"). After failing the field sobriety test, I assume he was cuffed, his car impounded and the nice officer started to drive him off to jail. Here's where it gets hinky.

Somehow, Mr. Shilts managed to urinate in the back of the patrol car. Well, that's not hard, right? True, but he ALSO managed to urinate on the back of the officers head. Yep, you read that right. So, either the officer was not smart enough to cuff the perp behind his back (in which case, he might have deserved cranial urination) or Mr. Shilts should have women lined up for the rest of his natural life. A penis that talented does not come along every day.

Hold on to 16 as long as you can...

Jack and Diane, John Mellencamp off the 1982 American Fool album
Honestly, one of those songs that never, ever gets old. My freshman year in college, one of the girls on my floor would blast three songs occasionally: Jack and Diane, Simon & Garfunkel's Cecilia and Salt 'n Pepa's Push It. Ok, she was odd.

John Mellencamp is no Meat Loaf. I either see him when I'm scrolling by and just think "yeah" or I get "Cherry Bomb" stuck in my head (or occasionally "I Need a Lover") and MUST. LISTEN. NOW. But I never reach to turn him off.

Back to the topic at hand, I don't think there's a time in my life I would have wanted to hold on to 16. I'm not sure I was ever even jonesing to GET to 16. I do occasionally miss the lack of permanent consequences your stupid choices had, but 16 was HELL. Ok, frankly, it wasn't until my mid-20s that I even vaguely realized that life wasn't supposed to be like THAT. I'm happy where I am. I wish my knees and my chest were 16 again, but other than that, I'm good thanks.

The Apocalypse? It is now...

The Bastard Neil has returned to Seattle. It is not just a rumor for I saw him with my own eyes. I was not under the influence of strong drink or tabacco. So, anyway, welcome back. There shall be sacrificial lamb very soon. After a week of shunning.

As an aside, I've never seen Apocalypse Now. It came out before I would have been watching movies like that. And I'm almost always disappointed by "the classics". The Bastard encouraged me to watch Taxi Driver. Eh. I'm not much for atmospheric movies.

Experimenting with nutritional suppositories again?

Source: The Big Bang Theory

Nope, turns out the asexual Sheldon just found a minion who was getting him breakfast.

In other news, the picture above is of the Rectal Rocket Suppository, a breakthrough in hemmorhoid treatment. What, you ask, makes it so special? Well, my two favorites are that it doesn't get lost in the rectum allowing it to treat both internal AND external hemmorhoids simultaneously. And it has a special grove allowing you to fart. Always an important concern.

I'm glad I could bring you the news.

I am SOOOO Back!

You'll notice you've been redirected to my own domain. Yes, it's true. After all these years, I'm now at http://www.debineezer.net. It was SUPPOSED to be an easy $10 automagical move. PSYCH! Now after being down for several days, I'm back. I'm still a bit at the mercy of a certain tyrant, but life goes on. I just have to do my entries from home.

Life is interesting these days, eh?

Glowing cat? Not in MY house...

Yay for researchers in New Orleans who have made a cat glow, not just because it's funny as shit (yeah, I started out as white trash...and?) but because it may help cure cystic fibrosis. Someone pointed this story out to a mailing list I'm on with the subject Finally: One you won't trip over when stumbling to the bathroom at 3 a.m.. Here was my reply:

Two problems with that rationale:

One, I'm extremely nearsighted, so what I see ain't actually where it
is.
Two, if the little bastard is between you and the bathroom at 3 a.m., it
is going to assume you want to either love on it or play with it. It
will move quickly, most likely to the position about to be occupied by
your feet. You will INDEED piss yourself for at LEAST the first six
weeks as a disembodied glowing blob runs figure eights around your
ankles at 3 a.m. You will learn not to drink after noon so that you will
not even need to pee in case the power goes out. Not that my cats are
evil...or is that all cats?

Mr. Green Genes may be a cutie, but not in my house he's not.

Turns out they're my F*ck YOU shoes

Source: The Men I Didn't Marry by Janice Kaplan & Lynn Schnurnberger
I'm reading 4 books at the moment...3 audio and 1 actual book. None of them with haste.

It’s called dementia, and I could go at any time

Dr. Jacob Hood, The Eleventh Hour

Mmmmm...Rufus Sewell (though DAMN that IMDB headshot looks like a mugshot). In a show that does NOT suck. One of those "detective" shows where he sort of pulls the answer out of his ass. Like Sherlock Holmes but much sexier than Basil Rathbone. Those of you who don't know that name obviously had no one in your life addicted to 1940s detective flicks on Sunday afternoon TV. Anyway, Basil wasn't bad looking for his time. I'd just prefer Rufus, ok?

Anyway, you can watch the episodes online, rendering your TV pretty much irrelevant. Neat, huh?

I sold the Renoir and the TV set

Source: The Reflex, Duran Duran
Yet another lyric that makes NO SENSE. And I just don't care. On your left you'll see a poor picture of keyboardist Nick Rhodes, by far my favorite member of the group. Followed by Roger Taylor (drummer). There was a tie between John Taylor (guitarist) and Simon LeBon (lead singer) until Simon showed up at the MTV music awards sporting some Don Johnson scruff. The I was in lust. Never liked Andy Taylor, the other guitarist.

I had a dream about Nick Rhodes in this very sweater. It involved him picking me up late at night in a deserted shopping center in a small car. I think. There was a lot of keyboard equipment in the back. I also had a similar dream about Princess Diana, but there was no keyboard equipment. It's hard to say who I loved more. Anyway, if I haven't made it clear, I loved Duran Duran. I don't not love them now, really. I loved Princess Diana for a MUCH longer time.

On a completely different topic, there is a "contest" going on over at Tomato Nation raising funds for an amazing cause. Donors Choose is an organization where teachers submit their requests for funds to supplement their students. I just donated $10 to help buy 2 cellos for a NYC school. Last year, I helped to buy a graphing calculator overhead projector and a something else. So far this year, the Tomato Nation readers have raised over $100K during the October Blogathon, and the Blogathon itself has raised in the neighborhood of $234K with 2500 donors. Donate $5 or $50 or more if you can. Make a difference in the life of some kids, not only physically, but by showing them that people they don't know care about their education. Do it through Tomato Nation or not, it really doesn't matter.

Don't fear the reaper...he's a big ol' sissy

I do not listen to Blue Oyster Cult. My only knowledge of them comes from the classic SNL More Cowbell skit starring Christopher Walken. And of course, from the classic hit "Don't Fear the Reaper". I've always been under the impression that BOC (as they dub themselves) is some sort of heavy metal band. Yeah, I'm done with that. Honestly, except for the cowbell, I've heard equally "hard rock" out of Neil Diamond. I don't hate the song. And maybe it's just one of those songs that doesn't really represent the band. But the reaper? Yeah, bring it.

In other news, The Bastard Neil has provided photographic evidence of his arrival in THE SOUTH. Which means, he went to Waffle House. Bastard.

Go ask Alice...

Yep, the transformation to bat-shit crazy dog owner is complete. I actually look forward to the seldom bestowed doggie kisses. I'd probably feel differently if they were lavishly gifted or even the least bit wet, but we all know that's not the point. There are pictures.

By the way? Entirely Rachel's fault. I was not insane before I started reading Twilight. I'm not saying I didn't have my tendencies, but I was not certifiable. I'd already spent 6 CRAZY weeks on the whole friggin' Edward and Bella thing. And yes, I named Alice after the coolest character in the book.

Until this little thing has put on some weight (she's less than 6 pounds and should probably be closer 8), there is a moratorium on BBQ jokes. BILL. You shall not skewer the underweight, got it?? I suspect the Bastard Neil will have someone competing for all that lamb.

Update: Alright, perhaps I cannot claim that Rachel is responsible for making me crazy. Bert claims I was crazy LONG before she came along (and his records go back to 1991). However, I think that everyone who knows me well knows my opinion on dogs. I hate them. So SOMETHING turned me from crazy to batshit. I'm blaming Rachel for THAT! Thank you, Rachel.

LOL-arious

After I told a mailing list that I'm on that Alice has chosen me as her person, my dear friend Rachel responded with the following: "Debi, *you* got a dog? Well, that is just LOL-arious."

I assure you that there was NO defensiveness in my town when I replied:
"All I'm saying is that it cost me $75 to get her a rabies shot and a certificate of health. $110 to get the top of the line doggie carrier delivered overnight (yeah, hush everyone). $125 to get her on the f*cking plane. And $93 to upgrade to "Economy Plus" on United (which I would have done anyway). BUT, I did not let my mother buy her a little cheerleader outfit. Spoiled rotten she will be, but she will retain SOME friggin' dignity I tell you. And I will ONLY put her in the pink camouflage t-shirt if I can't find something else (it's a hand-me-down).

"If the economy gets any worse, I'm going to have sell my husband to support my pet habit. "

Do you deal in Black Money?

Source: Black Money, Culture Club
Nostalgic 80s alert!

I have no idea what this song means, but it keeps running through my head. Not in a bad way at all. It's one of those soulful numbers that Boy George was really good at. It's off the 1983 Colour by Numbers album. Seriously? 1983? It's been 25 years since they did a good album? I could feel older, but I'm just not in the mood.

Someone told me I'd done a nice enough thing yesterday that they weren't going to make me give up my jelly shoes. Or at least my theoretical jelly shoes. They don't look the same these days. The look like they MIGHT be sturdy and who wants jelly shoes you don't need to replace every few months?? Talk about missing the point!! And she said it in Comic Sans. Now THAT is love.

And He's Off!

The Prodigal Bastard emailed today to say that's vacating the state of Vermont headed south on a loop toward Seattle. Not to indicate that Debineezer Scrooge has missed The Bastard Neil in anyway during his extended absence.

I'm in Tampa. The weather ain't so bad, thankfully. I think a dog may have chosen me. Her name is Alice. She seems to be an Italian Greyhound/Chihuahua mix. Mom rescued her from her rescuer who couldn't keep her. Crazy old stray saving cat lady, my mom...gotta love her! Of course, she comes from a LONG line of stray savers...my gram tried to save a den of coyotes when she was young...lasted until they started teething. Anyway, she's still a bit of a puppie, not well socialized and needs a bit of housebreaking. But she's heartbreakingly beautiful and I may have to dig up the $125 United is going to charge me to take her home. Friggin' dog.

Honestly didn't leave much in Tampa...

Mom's husband has been discharged and is now living at my gram's house with her. And it's not going well. Because he's your general asshat at the best of times. But now that he's got advanced Cirrhosis he's got no short-term memory, he's angry and scared and mom's taking the brunt. So, off I fly to my own personal hell. I miss Tampa in February when I'm DONE with the Seattle winter. A week will do me. The only things left there for me are a BIG HONKING piece of furniture my gram gave me and my mom. I'll be moving both out here to Seattle as soon as possible. *Sigh*

Anyway, just going to hang out with the Momster and see what I can do to get her some support. And oversee the talented soon-to-be cousin-in-law color mom's hair either purple or cherry red. Or both.

And Bastard, oh Bastard, where art though?

Avoid boys who reach for the Star Wars condoms

Source: The Men I Didn't Marry by Janice Kaplan & Lynn Schnurnberger
The main character has just dropped her younger child off at Yale and as she walks by the freshman orientation table spies a bowlful of condoms. She wonders if she should have given this piece of advice to her daughter before leaving. Honestly, this line is in the first 5 minutes of the audiobook. I'm really looking forward to the rest.

Not to tempt fate, but someone is supposed to start on his way back to Seattle tomorrow. Happy trails, safe journeys, and please don't piss off any lesbian life partners. At least none that you can't outrun. Lamb and Booker's Noe await you at the end of the road.

Is repetence inspiring?

While my blog entries are getting longer, the names don't seem to come to me with the same exciting frequency. Hrmmm...perhaps because I've been reading the same 4 books for two months? I shall have to consider this.

Anyway, Yom Kippur begins tonight. Perhaps I shall return with new vigor and inspiration...though I must admit in that arena I only have ennui and a few questions.

Did she just slapshot the US Constitution?

Source: Head of Skate
This is that Sarah Palin Disney movie trailer I linked to a couple of days ago. The response to this question is "No sir. Just the Bill of Rights."

I just finished Twilight on audio, and I'm about an hour into New Moon. New Moon is easily the hardest book of the series, even though you know that the whole thing has a happy ending. While I'm sure I'll savor listening, it's impossible for me not to identify on an emotional level. It's almost as if I wish I could identify on a deeper emotional level. Stephenie Meyer is a phenomenal writer. Bitch.

I made the cowardly lion look like the terminator

Twilight, Stephenie Meyer
Ok, this I can NOT blame on The Bastard Neil. Nor, until he reads this, did he even know to mock me (though after his summer reading, all I can say is he needs to zip it). I cannot blame this on Bert. Though he's got enough blame to shoulder for a life time. No THIS? This is Rachel's fault. And frankly, she deserves to be tired from the Portland Marathon today. Freakish fool that I adore.

Rachel invited me to join her book group. Because, well, Rachel rocks. Duh! Last month's book was Catch-22. I hate that book. And this is not about that book. And I was sick during that book club. No, really, because I would have had a thing or two to say about hating that book.

Anyway, this month's is Twilight. If you've been too a book store since July, the 4th book of the series is the one with the chess scene on the cover. Oh! That one. Mike read it quite a while ago, but I always teased him about it being high school vampire porn. Human girl and vampire "boy" meet. Fall madly in love. Much tragedy ensues over the course of 4 books.

I picked up the first book the week before Labor Day. Too popular to get out of the library in any sort of timely fashion. Had to buy it paperback (YUCK). Had to buy it (I don't buy books, that's what libraries are for). Took me a week or so to finish, since we painted the kitchen over Labor Day. I finished it on the plane between Seattle and Houston on my way to Tampa and immediately found the Borders in the Airport to buy Book 2. Yeah, the next day I bought Book 3 and suffice to say I was done with Book 4 before I left Tampa. It's MESMERIZING. Not only did I read them all (not unusual) in a little over a week (a little unusual) but I bought them all (unheard of) and her unrelated one (which I haven't actually read yet though Mike keeps bugging me).

Now, I will tell you why Rachel is evil. A week or so after I got back from Tampa? Yeah, I picked up Twilight (Book 1) again on Friday night and just started paging through. 12 hours later? Done. The next weekend? All three books in about 5 days. READING SLOWLY THIS TIME.

Now I will tell you why Rachel is karmically sore. Earlier this week? I started listening to the audio book. Which at least TAKES LONGER. And, the ultimate in loser-dom??? I PAID FOR THE DAMNED THING. Yes, yes it's true. I couldn't wait for it to come in, so I paid for the damned thing. In my defense, I didn't really mean to. I got the "free trial" from Audible.com, and instead of using my free credits, I um, didn't. I think that qualifies me. So, I used my free credits on Book 2:)!

Anyway, there aren't a ton of good one-liners. And I should know, now that I'm going through it for the THIRD FRIGGIN' TIME. Did I mention the movie comes out on November 21?

It's been THAT kind of week...

Major project started Tuesday, the first day I was out for the Jewish New Year. I logged into my email Wednesday night to find 65 emails...not too bad for a 2 day absence. Fires, but nothing unmanagable. Clean out my box, put things on my list to deal with Thursday morning. Thursday morning I arrive at the office...41 new emails. FIRE! PANIC! MAYHEM! ALL FECES IN THE ROTARY AIR MOVER!!! Debi slammed out of the director's office, Debi was non-too-kind to people that it might have been impolitic to be non-too-kind to, Debi failed to deliver goodies to her dearest post-surgical friend. It was an awful, evil, no good, VERY bad day.

Anyway, I've given up on screen names for this week. However, I would like to give you a few links. One, kitchen pics have finally arrived. I love it. It's fabulous. It makes me happy. I will be having the kitchen warming exactly two days before The Bastard Neil is scheduled to arrive in Seattle. Perhaps it will encourage him to get his Bastard Ass back here more quickly. Bastard.

And, you simply MUST watch the trailer for the Sarah Palin Disney Movie.

Hair pulling may not be manly, but it’s very effective

Source: Dexter, 2nd Season

We just finished watching the 2nd season on DVD. Not nearly as good as the 1st season, possibly because they seem to have left the Dexter books entirely behind. Dexter spent a whole lot of time being introspective...at the cost of killing people who needed killing.

But, as usual, there were a lot of great one-liners. For those of you with Showtime, Season 3 premiered tonight.

Rosh Hashannah starts on Monday night, so I'll be gone for a couple of days.

Somewhere without investment bankers and...erotomaniacs...

Source: Final Jeopardy, Linda Fairstein

The protagonist identifies this mythical place as Wyoming as she's trying to get out of the clutches of the killer. Makes you wonder on a real day which is better and which is worse.

Even mental illness sounds better in French

>Source: Final Jeopardy, Linda Fairstein
Ah, I just LURVE the exquisite drama!! Except that I really have none. I'm perky, I have a new camera (which means pictures of the new kitchen will be forthcoming tonight dear Bastard), and Mike got an unexpected bonus check.

Of course, I went to buy an MP3 player yesterday and I'm extremely disappointed in the ZUNE. It's got a far superior hardware interface in my opinion. Easy to navigate, FM tuner, wireless. The screen is twice the size of the iPod classic and it's the same price as the comparable size iPod. But you can only access it through the ZUNE software (which is not the case with iPod and iTunes contrary to popular opinion). ZUNE software? The most unfathomably craptastic music interface since Windows Media 0.1. And MS has gone pretty damned far out of it's way to lock down any workaround hacks that makes it less horrifying. Anyone in Redmond wondering why the iPod is still dominating the market??

Perky, perky Debi. Run away.

Hook Tuneup Palin

This is what I would have been named if I'd had the great fortune to be born to Republican Vice Presidential nominee Sarah Palin. At least according to the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator. After 5 kids, she's come up with good ones on her own: Track, Trig, Bristol, Willow, and Piper.

Mine wasn't NEARLY as interesting as others. The Bastard Neil is dubbed Bash Budweiser Palin. Except that according to his Bastard nature, he'd probably drink Bud in my presence JUST to piss me off. Chris? Yeah, he's Froth Moonshine Palin. But Mike is truly the best. Yes, friends, I could have been married to none other than Hump Gizzards Palin. Beat that one.

Hrrrm...how did they get the food and drink references and I got the hardware one? Especially since the Bastard Neil maintains I'm not the wrench wielding type and all.

Come to the dark side. We have cookies.

Source: Bumper sticker spied last week
Since my AMAZING FRIGGIN' BLACKBERRY has no camera, I had to call The Bastard Neil to tell him about this one. He is apparently unimpressed as he has not replied. Chris is similarly unimpressed. As is Mike. What the heck? These people obviously know no better.

I'm sick. I have a headache and intermittant body aches and whilst my sore throat is better, suffice to say it's not fully healed. Damn it. I was planning on this being a 24 hour bug...we're entering hour, what, um, let's see...Thursday night and it's Sunday morning...ah, hell, I don't feel well enough to do the math. Did I mention that I don't feel good?

Update: "Come DO the Dark Side was funnier." Especially if you consider the Cookie Monster, a drunk Uncle and a mechanical bull. Maybe in the Bastard's apartment. DAMN I need some therapy now.

Yeah, you can help me. Go f*ck yourself!

Source: Final Jeopardy, Linda Fairstein

Luckily, I'd just pulled up to the house when this little gem emanated from speakers. Or I was just leaving, one of the two. It was directed to that co-worker who WANTS you to fail and you know it, but they have to look good. Not in that co-worker's presence, OBVIOUSLY.

So, apparently I'm feeling a bit strident and proud today. Eh, I always do my best work then, so I guess it's a win-win.

Clay Bonbons and Blue Moroccans

IT IS DONE! THE KITCHEN IS DONE! After more than two weeks of work (I wasn't here for one), the painting is complete. We used Mythic paint, which rocks. Mike chose the colors. Honestly. Bonbon Blue with Moroccan Clay trim. Yes, AND it even matches an old Starbucks bowl of mine from MANY years ago.

It is beautiful, fabulous, wonderful perfection. It's even got stuff back in it. Not everything, but we've got part of the living room back. And in theory, we can stop eating take out. Especially since that paint was bloody expensive. And the new sander. And the tape. And the new hinges. And this. And that...

Coming soon, the Casa de Carne Kitchen Warming!

I’d rather set my hair on fire and beat the flames out with a hammer

The Torment of Others, Val McDermid
One of those lines spoken in an audio book where I had to pull over to write it down it was so funny.

This book features the most unique twist on serial killing that I've ever encountered. Outrageous and inconceivable, and yet utterly believable every step of the way. It's not the most tightly written piece of fiction, but it was very enjoyable.

Man rubbed with spices, other beaten with sausage

Well, The Bastard Neil doesn't seem to be on his way back to Seattle just yet, but he did send something "for the WTF? collection". It would seem that in Fresno, "A stranger broke into a home east of Fresno, rubbed spices on the body of one of two men as they slept and used an 8-inch sausage to whack the other man in the face and head before he fled, Fresno County sheriff's deputies said Saturday." All Mike had to ask was how one gets rubbed with spices without waking up. Yep, I think that sums it entirely up. Except that an 8-inch sausage doesn't seem like it would give you a lot to whack someone with if you had a grip on it. Damn, so many innuendos, so little time. My brain hurts.

Do you have any idea how tight a rat’s rectum is?

Source: Bones
This is one of Mom's favorite shows. I was busy either reading one of the Twilight series (probably the last one, Breaking Dawn) or actually working away on my laptop, but she was watching this. At some point, there was some evidence that some rats had swallowed. I think there was a debate among the techs as to how to get the evidence out: the "natural" method or the dissection method. The curly headed guy busts out with this quote. And I had to write it down.

I'm so exhausted from Florida. The heat took it the hell out of me. Next week, I'll be back to my hysterical self.

Long Story short, goats are not reusable

Source: "Sordid Sorters' Tales" in the September 2008 issue of Real Simple magazine
Apparently, it's not unusual for a squirrel or other unidentified ball of dead fur to end up in a recycling center for sorters to find. However, a goat? Not something that can easily "fall in" a recycle bin, cart, dumpster... recycling center. The short blurb doesn't say anything about the condition of the goat, but does assure us that goats are not reusable. I think they mean recyclable, because wasn't kick the can originally played with a goat's head?

Caribou Barbie

This is the funniest name I've heard to describe the Republican candidate for Vice President. No, I don't think it's diminishing her as a woman. Hell, for all my education, accomplishments, and intelligence, I'd still be thrilled to be called a Barbie. So sue me. For all the things that appall me about her, I think she may actually have her own sense of humor. And again, for all that I don't agree with her, I think she's got brains and a set of brass ovaries. Combined with the standard degree of political blindness that I think all politicians have.

Anyway, I respect most people in public service. I don't believe that those who look at the same information that I do and draw different conclusions from me are somehow stupid. And I think it is dangerous as hell to approach it that way. I believe that you've got to have a hell of an ego to make it anywhere in politics or get eaten alive. Mostly I think that most everyone there is there to make a difference because they believe they can. There may be additional considerations, but it's mostly about belief.

When one of my best friends recently called me a "Clinton Democrat", I responded with this diatribe:

How would you know what kind of liberal I am? Not like you've been paying attention since Shrub's dad was in office;)!

I don't think the 2 party system works. I think the Dems continue to shoot themselves in the foot by trying to please everyone and the Republicans allow themselves to be dominated by an extremely small group of people that are not representative of the voters. I think those with good ideas quickly have the courage to act upon them drummed out as they realize that compromise is the only way to make the smallest amount of progress. I think the extreme partisanship in both government AND society as a whole is extremely damaging as fewer and fewer Americans spend time trying to understand or respect viewpoints different from their own. I fear those who dismiss the "other side" as ignorant, stupid, or evil. However, I am actually quite comforted by my belief that as an extremely arrogant country that seems uninterested in learning from the mistakes of our predecessors that we'll be rendered irrelevant in short order.

Not that you're implying that by calling me a "Clinton Liberal". I have no trouble being called that. I was a Reagan Republican before when I was young an naive. I am frankly depressed by the current choices in many, many ways.

No dirty secret. I was a College Republican for one year. I quit them when the entirely male group (save me) created a splinter group called "Emory College Republicans for Life". I was registered Republican for one year after that. Then I got a letter from the party telling me to vote Republican because they were against gays. That was ALL she wrote.

When Ice Cream Sandwiches Go Bad

It's Bert's fault. He may disagree, but he should know better. Our search for new cabinet knobs and drawer pulls and hinges took us to Dunn Lumber. After some hemming and hawing and arriving at the decision that what we have will serve for the moment, I passed the ICE CREAM cooler on the way to the nice cashier. Because of my current obsession with ice cream sandwiches, I threw myself against the glass a few times trying to get to them, before I figured out that the door slid open. I removed a holy ice cream sandwich, enquired of Bert if he desired anything. When he did not, I took my merchandise to the aforementioned cashier, traded money (or plastic) for them and we returned to the car.

This is when the trouble began. As all good Americans know, ice cream bars are to be wrapped in wax paper. Little if any adhesive is necessary and it is very simple to access this little piece of frozen nirvana. Somehow, this manufacturer figured out a way to screw this up. However, I thought nothing of it as it was wrapped in Mylar. You know, the stuff that tears when you give it a sharp look?

But no. I managed to tear a very small corner from the package, then with much effort pry open the entire top. This is where my progress all but ceased. As I prattled away at Bert, I was tearing away at the Mylar with my teeth to no avail. Meanwhile, the ice cream sandwich was not only smushing (a technical term) but melting a bit. I also had no place to put the small bits of Mylar, as I had put the small purchases in my purse rather than request a bag. Stupid tree hugging dirt worshipper.

At this point, we pulled up to a red light and Bert glanced at me. I had chocolate many places a woman of my age, education and professional stature probably shouldn't have. Not to mention tiny bits of Mylar stuck to my person. My to my amazement and chagrine, Bert had NO FRIGGIN' POCKET KNIFE. WHAT THE HELL KIND OF FIELD BIOLOGIST HAS NO FREAKIN' POCKET KNIFE????

So, I do the only thing an addict can do at this point. Wait the 4 minutes until we arrive at my home and take a pair of scissors to the aforementioned devil Mylar?? Silly reader who obviously knows me not. I attempt to open the other end of the Mylar assuming that the first end is merely an anomaly. Dumb move. Not only am I unable to make further progress, I am now stuck with an ice cream sandwich open at both ends.

I decide my only choice is to squeeze the ice cream sandwich from its wrapping. It does not go well. And when it does? It goes out the other end just as well. So, I'm squeezing and eating from both ends. A neat trick. I'm talking with my mouth full of cold ice cream. I suspect at this point Bert was trying desperately not to pee himself he was laughing so hard. I finished pretty much the same time we pulled up to the house. Mike was sanding the kitchen cabinets and was unimpressed by both my tale and the amount of chocolate on my person.

This was an ice cream sandwich gone very bad.

I'm going through mental pause...

Source: Button I had in High School
Ok, I WORE it in high school. On my peacock blue Miami Vice blazer. It was orange. I still have it. It's hanging in my cubical at work.

I'm losing my mind. I've got some very important meeting notes that I kind of, you know, NEED. For a really important project. I don't have them here at home. I actually asked my boss to see if they were on my desk. He found some other stuff (that it turns out I needed, too) and faxed it to me. Damn, damn, damn. Nothing like delaying a project that, oh yeah, CANNOT ACTUALLY BE DELAYED. Sometimes that happens in healthcare. Friggin' government...except that they help me have a really good job. Eh, I don't have to be fair. Friggin' government.

So, after saying many times this afternoon "I'm losing my mind" it occurred to me I'm not. I'm simply going through mental pause. Like my friend Ken. I always think of him when I think of mental pauses. He's one long mental pause. He had THAT one coming, trust me.

I just had a shoegasm! Maybe two...

If you need shoes and live in Seattle? Go to the Nordstroms at Northgate and find Margarita. I won't buy shoes from anyone from her. I bought some $8 flats from Old Navy's website, but even she thought that was a steal. I've been buying from her for 3 or 4 years. The first time I bought from her, I'd been dismissed by another sales person an hour or so before and was feeling very dejected (it happens every other shopping trip). She got permission to take me down to the Size 11 shoe area (down in the pits of hell) and let me see every single shoe they had. I bought three pairs. Shoe whore? When I grown up and make $150K a year. But I can't buy anywhere else. No one else carries my size.

Anyway, Chris and Mercedes are having a much belated wedding reception tomorrow night and Mike and I went to find me a new dress and shoes. TERRIFIC dress that looks very similar to this but cost a lot more. And Mike made me pay full price because he said it was a WOW. He's right. It looks WAY better on me than in that picture. So I went off to see Margarita who is always SUPER busy even when other sales people are twiddling their thumbs. I showed her the dress and she brought out Enzo Angiolini 'Serious' Slingback Pump. I think I wept. I shoegasmed. Vavavoom! They're being stretched a tiny bit in the toes, and I'm praying I don't fall on my butt, though no one will be surprised if I do. As Deborah taught me to say, DAYUM.

What's wrong with comparing apples to VW Beetles??

My friend and former roomie, Philbert, works for NOAA. He's out here from DC to listen to boring presentations out at Sand Point. We went out to dinner tonight and after we got done with our mutual admiration society in the arena of presidential politics, we eventually turned to the idiosyncracies of his superiors. It would turn out that he and his coworkers were given a very interesting assignment in rankings that was like, well, comparing apples to VW Beetles. Our tax dollars at work!

Remind me why we should care?

I don't think the Democratic Convention has mattered since 1988 when Jesse Jackson handed his delegates to Michael Dukakis. Now it's just a bunch of back patting and well, snarkier terms for back patting. I wasn't an Obama fan to begin with, but I'm so disgusted now that I'm ready to vote for Donald Duck. How exactly does the "Candidate of Change" pick a 6-term Senator? When I told Chris that Biden was the chosen one, he looked at me and said "The one with the plagarism scandal???" Yeah, turns out that's why he dropped out of the 1988 race. Great.

Whatever. I can't believe I'm one of the disaffected that I used to pity. Washington's all wrapped up. I'll vote, but I'll wonder why. Here's to four more years. I'm not sure it'll be all that different regardless of who wins.

Update: I hope you all know that I LOATHE anonymous commenters. If you're gonna comment, attribute it. I care. I'm not dumb enough to base my opinions on media sound bites, thanks.

My point stands about the convention. It serves no purpose except to spend a lot of Denver's money and bore the crap out of the majority of the electorate. It used to be about choosing a candidate. He was "chosen" months ago. Don't even get me started about the bullshit that preceded the announcement of Biden. Those that haven't chosen will not be swayed by the convention. They won't chose for a while. They won't be swayed by the convention.

I can't imagine voting for McCain, and even if I did, it wouldn't matter here in Washington because of the Electoral College. The folks I know that are voting for McCain in other states? Trust me, a gun to their head wouldn't get them voting for Obama. And at least one of them knows 37 ways to kill me with a rubber band and a paper clip. The paper clip is only necessary if he's feeling lazy.

I'm not disaffected because I'm listening to the media, thanks. Intelligent, informed, caring people can give up because there doesn't seem to be a point any more at a national level. That doesn't mean there aren't other ways to make a difference, but if you expected this to be an exhaustive dissertaion on political participation, you're obviously not paying attention.

Is this a blessing or is it a curse?

Source: It Just Won't Quit, Meat Loaf's Bat Out of Hell 2
It's definitely a blessing, and it just won't quit. Nor will the various parts of the chorus of this song stop running incessantly through my head. That and Rock and Roll Dreams Come Through. And I'm a happy, happy girl for no external reason. Maybe theres a witch doctor with an office in town...but I'm not looking.

The snark will return tomorrow. I'm pissed about politics.

The Angels had guitars even before they had wings

Source: Rock & Roll Dreams Come Through by Meat Loaf
Yeah, I've branched...Bat Out of Hell 2 is no classic. It's got some good stuff. It's got some stuff I can belt at the top of my lungs. And for a moment realize that he's right...sometimes Rock & Roll dreams do come through...

I'll show you how to turn a wrench, buddy.

And I quote: "Call me a skeptic, but you don't strike me as the wrench-turning type." The Bastard Neil has a lot of friggin' chutzpah making that kind of assumption. Just because I've never BOTHERED to own a car old enough that I could actually change the oil (or actually cared enough to spend my time doing it), doesn't mean I'm not willing and/or able should the need arise. Should the need arise to say, disassemble a mechanical bull and reassemble it in Neil's bedroom with a surprising likeness of John Travolta perched atop, I'm just the redhead to help pull it off. But what sort of assumptions does one expect from a guy who asks "What does RTFM mean?" and is then pedantic enough to tell me it's not actually an acronym, it's simply initials.

Is it richer than diamonds or just a little cheaper than spit?

Source: It Just Won't Quit, Meat Loaf's Bat Out of Hell 2

Ok, it's still one of those days...I'm in a belting kinda place. Karaoke on Saturday. The place we go for Karaoke is good and bad. It's a little spot with cheap drinks and usually not a ton of people. So, in two and a half hours on Saturday night I got to sing two or three solos and two duets. Bad side? The song book SUCKS! Not a SINGLE song by Survivor. And the Sweet Child O' Mine CD? Broken. Oh well.

Anyway, I'm going with slightly more expensive than spit at the moment. Slightly.

Michael Phelps can kick Chuck Norris's ASS!

So, Michael Phelps won 8 gold medals. He broke the record set by Mark Spitz in 1972. He's got 14 gold medals now. He's only 23. Ok, so he needs to be shot.

BUT. Ron Judd points that Michael Phelps had to do a lot more than we realize to win those gold medals. Really, I never liked Chuck Norris. Give me Lee Marvin ANY day.

Rainy Days and Mondays...oooh look, it's both!

We need the rain as it's been "hot" here...ok, it DID get into the 90s for a couple of days, but the humidity was pretty low (50s). My tomatoes will be very happy.

However, we're having thunder and lightning. That always weirds me out here. It happens a couple of times a year, and it ALWAYS catches me by surprise. My hometown (Tampa) is the lightning capitol of the Western hemisphere, so I'm familiar with the phenomenon. Just not here.