{Hugs For Homeless Animals} Snuggles Project

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A plea for my favourite cause!

I've added a paypal button for the Dog Rescue organization I work for. If you have spare pennies...(or dollars)...the beags will take them thankfully!

Marching Orders - Goose-stepping, the dance craze of tyrants. By Mark Scheffler

Woof!

Self-Medicating

Last night I picked up another boy from the local animal shelter, and as usual I did it with delight. Now, for sure, I’m a bit of a crazy dog lady when it comes down to it… but I want to tell you why I’m so insane about dog rescue. I’m not doing it, strictly, for the dogs… honestly, I’m doing it for me. I do it because it makes me feel wonderful to look down at a living, breathing creature and think I’ve had some part in saving him/her from death. Can you understand what a complete ego-stroke that is for a person? I, me, les C have made a REAL life and death difference to a creature. Without ME that dog would otherwise be in the incinerator at this very moment.

Ok, strictly, I’m not the only one involved in the saving of the dog’s life. It’s a group effort, and I’m merely a very small part. Really, the majority of the credit goes to Sandra who works tirelessly to save the beagles and hounds that end up in kill shelters in this area (I’m working very hard right now to get a paypal donation link up for Sandra and will link to it here, please consider donating every now and then if you can). But, when I am involved in picking one up or fostering one I get the very real and immediate feedback that I did a good thing.

Getting the dog out of the shelter and somewhere away from that place, I take a moment to sit down on the ground with them and give them a cuddle. I’ll tell you what if feels like. After one look in their eyes, and one look at their usually ragged condition; at the moment that their tail first wags and they are not scared to look back at me? It’s like falling in love… you know that feeling of euphoria you get when you first meet someone you “click” with. Every. Single. Time.

For me, that “warm fuzzy” feeling is better than any psychotropic drug I’ve ever known.

So, here’s the moral of the story I want you to know: Are you feeling down in the dumps? Is your life a sad, sorry place? Do you wonder if you will ever feel happy again? Well, get out of your me-centric world and find something you care about and devote some time and effort to it. Don’t just talk about it, do it. Give not only of your money, but of your time. Throw yourself into it even if people think you are excessive. Trust me… suddenly your annoyances, your problems, and your thinking about the state of the world will shift. You will realize (again) that you are part of something bigger than yourself and you will realize that you can make a difference (even if it is only one dog at a time.)

BBC News | TV AND RADIO | The weird world of Louis Theroux

Nic, I think Louis my be right up your alley.....(har har...alley).

www.mnftiu.cc | get your war on | page eighteen

Nice! Updated.

Absolutepictures.com - Carson Daly

Ok it has to be said...EWWWWW! I think Carson Daly is one of the most unattractive "personalities" (term used very very loosely) in the media at the moment. He always looks unkempt (and not in a sexy unkempt way) and quickly on his way to ugly middle age whiteboy blah-ness.

Don't get me wrong....I like me some whiteboys, namely the D, and I still think Rick Astley is a doll. (God, I'd forgotten all about him, until Nic brought up Terrence Trent D'Arby which for some reason reminded me of ol' Rick).

PS. I do not vouch for ol' Rick's music as I was totally unaware he even still existed until I googled this site up today.

Coupling a la Yanks

This bugs me. Why can't they just import the original series and broadcast it to American audiences. It is retarded to refilm an entire series and replace actors with American ones. I remember how ill-fated this was for the yank version of Cold Feet, which is a shame because it is was actually a good show.

Rumour has it that TV execs are also looking to do the same thing to The Office.

PS. Kill me, I just blogged about TV. Kill me now. Kill me before I start posting Buffy episode recaps. Have mercy.

Genius moment of the day....

It's not so much the heat that I can't tolerate...it's humidity. Why is this genius you ask? Well, I think it is absolutely GENIUS that someone that is as intolerant as I am of humidity on her own free will moved to what has to be one of the muggiest places in this entire world. For god's sakes people, my parking garage's walls are sweating. Sweating.

Limey Pasta

I require that someone make this for me....sans the hazelnuts (I'd happily take pecans or some other sort of nut)...thanks.

Guardian Unlimited | Arts news | Anarchists and the fine art of torture

Disturbing, but kind of cool. What does it say about me that I like Kandinsky?

TAXI!!!!!!!!

Awww.....

I love Jodi because she loves her dogs.... (well, that's one of the reasons anyways...)

Mayor's Alliance for NYC's Animals, Inc. - Working with the City of New York to promote dog and cat adoption and spay and neuter programs to make New York a no-kill city.

This is fantastic! Wow.

Thinking is Hard!

Baby Love

After all that teary lovefest that was induced by such niceness on my birthday and the feel-good doggy mania, I feel the need for a rant (you know to restore the balance.)

Specifically, I feel the need to rant about the scary “I’m so special I’m a mommy/daddy” sector of our bloated current self-indulgent society.

I know, I know…I’m not (yet) a special member of the ever so special “I’m a special mommy, the first in the entire world to experience the miracle of mommyhood” cult, so that in itself negates my right to have an opinion right?

Well, whatever, militant mommies…you can bite me with your righteousness and obsessive need to live life only as defined by your super special one of a kind babykins and his booblybibblyloveydovey super special mumsyanddadsy.

I have known some pretty spectacular women (and men) in my nomadic wanderings, and a lot of them have gorgeous kids. Their kids are spectacularly funny, smart, well adjusted little human beings. They are pleasant to be around and quite funny and clever in their own way. Generally, these little creatures are genial and happy little beings. I can’t wait for them to grow up and be the funny, smart and wonderful additions to the world that I know they will be.

On the other hand, I have met some scary “militant - parent - I – have – no - life – other – than – the – person - I – am – as – defined – by - my - obsessive parenting" people. I'm both scared and repulsed by this self-indulgent social sector. Their children are usually “high needs”, whiney, demanding and actually downright socially unacceptable in many ways. They grow up to be over indulged humans with an inflated sense of entitlement, that is that everything should be given to them through no effort of their own.

Now, stop it, stop it right now. I do not hate babies and I don’t even hate parents, in fact, I admire parents and I love, love, love babies. (And, if you pull out the old chestnut that I’m not “getting any” as the reason why I don’t celebrate your magic wonderfulness as an “enlightened parent”…then you are fuckwit.)

Everyday, all around me I see parents that are modeling rude and self-centered behavior for their little babykins. Especially the parents with the big mofo strollers or those horrendous plastic car shopping trolleys like Kelly pointed out. Or those that get on their high horse in public forums and deride everyone else for not subscribing to their weird obsessive parenting ideas. Especially those that read someone else pointing out how socially-ill adjusted a child is, or poking fun at the "I'm a mommy" obsessiveness and assume immediately that this indicates "baby hatred." Look around you for the result of these “you’re mommy’s specialiast baby” parenting decisions. What do you see?

I see kids that have absolutely no initiative of their own, who give up at the slightest of problems, who wait for their mommy or daddy to clean up their mess, and who are completely socially inappropriate and feel the compulsive need to be the center of attention at all times. And, I see mommy and daddy right behind them spouting off about their “rights” and their need to be “validated” and the inability of the world to acknowledge just how special junior really is. I see parents yanking kids out of social institutions (ie. schools) because the norm just isn’t enough for their super special baby. I see parents isolating their kids and making them social pariahs instead of teaching them how to be part of and help shape the culture in which they live. I don’t know about you, but I see major problems for our future.

I really do think these parents feel entitled to be completely discourteous to the rest of us who obviously aren’t special enough to fling our trophy children around in huge contraptions while offering them a teat whenever jr. gets grizzly or cranky. Way to go, make sure your baby’s first formative idea is that when the going gets tough, the first thing one should do is shove sustenance in their mouth. Is it any wonder we are the most obese nation in the world?

A few months back I linked to an article bemoaning the state of affairs at universities, with mommy and daddy calling to discuss junior’s grade or to ask for extensions for junior because he is going on a special family vacation. Gag. I guess it is hard when your entire identity is centered around being a mommy/daddy to let it go when your kids should be grown and taking care of their own business.

As a counterpoint, I do see kids that are happy, relaxed and generally well adjusted little people. And what I see when I see these kids, are happy well-adjusted parents that have something other in their lives than to obsess about their role as a parent and the super specialness of their little babykins.

Be clear you freaky obsessive “I’m nothing if not a mommy” type people. Babies are great; it’s what you do to contort their little psyches that is scary.

.bimbos.::..bimbosculptures:.

You have no idea how much I want one of these....or how much I wish I could make some artsy stuff like this.

The flowers were beautiful, but I got another really really great birthday present. I didn't tell you guys that Benny had gone with another family for a week long "trial" period, starting last weekend. I didn't want to jinx it by mentioning it here. In fact, it wasn't looking like great news for Benny after the first few days. But yesterday, I got the email that I consider one of the best birthday present. It was the email that said that they loved Benny and as far as they were concerned he was a part of their family and no matter how naughty he was.... he was going to stay with them forever.

Hoorah for Benny.

flowers

Oh...I just got the most gorgeous vase of tulips from a "secret admirer." For the record, I know I'm getting old because it made me teary.

Hoorah, I've survived another year! Yay!

The D woke me up with breakfast served.

Yay!

BBC America - The Office
Watched this last night. Absolutely brilliant (sweetie). Uncomfortably hilarious.

Lulu!

So cute!

Just so you know, and stop it right now...don't roll your eyes like that, I've abandonded the top29 project. The format became to stifling and demanding and it made me cross. So there. I'm going to be 29 and am still petulant and completely unable to complete a simple task.

eBay item 2501649189 (Ends Jan-26-03 12:12:20 PST ) - 1850's Antique Chaise Sofa Bathtub~VERY Rare!

Oh my god. I totally want this!

Because I Say So!: Chilly Dogs

KYOOOOT!!!!

On revolting food smells in the office...

Oh god, I was going to write a little rant about this myself yesterday. The stench that people unleash at lunch (or actually through out the day).

We have already discussed my revulsion at the stench of microwave popcorn. But, I'm right there with Mid on the toast stench.

There is a guy (using the term loosely) that (ever.single.fucking.day) makes himself: 2 pieces of white toast (buttered) with a huge glass of milk. Watching him go through the entire song and dance of making himself this yummy snack is almost worth the stench invasion. It's like a ritual, complete with placement of opened paper towel in front of toaster.

But, let it be known, I am thankful for small mercies. There was a time in this office, not long ago, when two strange women discovered the joy that is fat-free hot dogs (retch)...and even bought one of those hotdog heater/bun toaster contraptions. This was their breakfast of choice. For weeks.

Weeks.

As for me, I book it out of here for lunch (since I have like a five minute commute) and try to avoid most of the stench and "eating at my desk" sound effects.

NEWS.com.au | Breasts lost in surgical mix-up (January 23, 2003)

I know, sad story...but, god, this is a funny headline.

In honour of my 29th birthday (on friday) I'm coming up with top 29 lists. I'll post if I actually follow through and complete any of them. We are kind of testing the limits of my attention span with this little challenge you know.

What is Chiasmus

The We would so much rather be proud of ourselves than proud of our country. We would rather seek love and validation than recognize the need to address human rights.

nice

What's with all the freaking robins?

I mean, really, aren't they supposed to come through as a herald of spring?

They are everwhere. Hordes of them. And if a group takes over a tree in your backyard, while you are enjoying the sunny temperate day..... then run, don't walk, into your house because they unleash a veritable torrent of bird shit.

Even the dogs run from the shit storm.

Duckky!

Me too! I like very music!

Invinciblegirl - Always Irritated and Feelin' Chatty.

Nice rant!

(don't be fooled by the rocks that she gots)

(sound of wild applause)

And, she's up! And, she's at work! And, she hasn't coughed for nearly 5 minutes!

By the way, I just had a hot milo with a dark chocolate tim tam. Heaven.

The depths of delirium:

Today, while aimlessly flipping through sunday afternoon programming and coughing up pieces of my lungs I stopped on a program that sounded interesting on the guide entitled "Bulimia." I find these kind of human interest stories entertaining in the way you can't look away from a trainwreck. For example, D and I watched a show called something like "Christine's Story" about some horrendous trailer-trash girl who has gastric bypass, and you aren't going to believe this, even after she loses the weight she realises that it has not made her life perfect. Anyways, I digress. So, for about five minutes I'm watching this show which I believe to be about eating disorders. Instead, all I see are scenes from a rodea. Bull riding as a matter of fact. So I hit info to see if I can figure out how this will tie into Bulimia (ie. stick thin cowboys who use bulimia as a way to be lighter on the back of a bull?).... that's when I realise that I'm watching something called "Bullmania." Nice one! Pass me the nyquil...I'm obviously not high enough.

Sick(s) Years

The pun being for my benefit only.

NEWS.com.au | Ugg boots take on Big Apple (January 20, 2003)

Jodi? Tell me this isn't true!

Gracie

Aww! Look at Gracie!

Status Check:

1. Hacking cough and associated whiplash style headache? Check
2. Complete revulsion and feeling of cabin fever? Check
3. General malaise and ill will towards all man? Check

You wanted to know.

Potage de Tomate

for the sick shut in, or the lazy

1 can crushed tomatoes
1 cube veggie stock
1 cup water
whatever herbs you have in your cabinet that sound appealing
half-half or milk or whatever dairy or dairy substitute you have
butter

Combine tomatoes, stock cube, and water in pan. Bring to boil, make sure the veggie cube is broken up. Add herbs. Cook for whatever time you think is necessary (a few mintues or so). Throw this into your blender and (carefully!) give it a whirl til smooth. Put back into pan, add a dash of your dairy juice and a dab of butter. Season to taste.

Serve with buttered toast triangles.

Eat (pathetically) in your pajamas and feel comforted.

Still Waiting!

Crazy Dog Lady Post:

Yesterday, in my sickness and pjs, I ran (well actually, I drove) over to the local animal control to pick up a lucky beagle being taken by hound rescue. As I drove up, I could see the incinerator was up and running.

Weep.

There's also the drama of it. Every third person in the world is a drama queen. And crying victim, especially when you're not really a victim in any real way, feels good. It feels good to cry victim if you're not one.

An interesting interview. This statement in particular touches on some issues that Nicole and I were just discussing.

A cure for what ails me?

Maybe this "wanton" soup will cure me not only of my cold, but all other doldrums....

Memo:

I've got a good old-fashioned cold. Whatever that means, because really there is nothing good, nor really anything old-fashioned about it. What it means is that I'm coughing and sneezing and spluttering a bit. As I have not brought my own can of lysol (or any other aerosol disinfectant) I may just have to go home. Either that or tie a garbage bag or other physical barrier round my person, which could end very badly for me.

On other news fronts, there is a "severe" cold front moving into town today. Severe meaning that it might get into the 40s today. What that means for me is that I really should go home, put my pjs back on and sip warm tea for the rest of the day in front of our fireplace.

Thai Green Currry Saved my Life

That and the D... as that is what he cooked for les moi last night. We politely declined the neighbour's generosity because I couldn't stomach the thought of a heavy dinner. So he whipped up green curry...which isn't exactly light fare, but apparently the incredibly hot curry was just right for my achy head and sore throat. It was almost pure chili, but somehow it really helped last night.

I know, how mundane. But, I had to publicly state how much I appreciated the general fussing over me last night. It saved my life.

Yahoo! News - Aussie Miner Frames Dad's Tattooed Skin

revolting.

Quokka

for kate.

Disposable Swimsuits

I don't feel so good...

Do you think that six clementines with lunch is enough to stave off this threatening cold?

(Special note for Val: You know what? When I told my neighbour that both D and I felt like we were getting colds...she insisted that we allow her to bring us dinner tonight. Comfort food...you know, because we are so pathetic and sick and alone in this world. Guess what she's making us? Homemade chicken fried steak, cream gravy, mashed potatos and homemade rolls. I should feel sick and pathetic more often!)

IFSA-Butler: Programs - Australia-Overview

People often ask me how I met D and ended up in Australia...

This is how.

You know you need me in your life!

God, this one reminds me of my ruby.

HoustonChronicle.com - El Paso Corp. confirms more fake reports

I know you guys don't care....but as for me I'm SHOCKED!!!! SHOCKED! I say...

Quokka Tragedy

Assholes. They should be dealt the full punishment for being such fucking assholes.

My weekend project...

Stencils...how lame.

But, peoples, I love it! Even the D loves it. LOVE IT.

PS. My throat hurts. Unfair. I demand a recount.

Overheard...

"If you look at only this one model, you get a skewed version of the world."

People! We are creating version(s) of the world here.

kill
me
please

Gump-Like (just like the Ollie!)

I know he's no beagle...but I'm just saying.... I'd be in love....

Inappropriate humour...

The first sentence of this article sent me into a laughing fit.

In fact, I'm going to use the same sort of sentence when I write my first great and useless novel... I'm thinking something like this:

[insert main character name] always wanted a purple silk covered headband to hold back her flowing tresses. She got it after she died.

It was delightfully matched by a pair of special-dyed satin pumps to showcase her dainty feet in her casket.

All the ladies that lunched agreed that the combination of the headband and shoes was a sublime detail to the entire look. They matched the bruising almost coverd by make-up around [insert name]'s eyes.

Nicely written...

Rudi Lechners Restaurant and Bar

Rudi can kiss our (collective) ass. He was the rudest prick ever when we showed up (with reservations) and were summarily dismissed to the "lounge" to wait. This spectacular performance was followed up by him throwing a complete tantrum when we asked if we were going to be seated (more than a half-hour after our reservations), which included him throwing his wax pencil down and telling D that they were not buddies.

Ha.

Ridiculous.

A Feminist's Arduous Task (washingtonpost.com)

Bad Hobo Mojo

By the way, the hobo sign I put up has had the exact opposite effect I intended. Instead of keeping people away, it seems to have some weird magnetic pull. I've taken it down. Hopefully, the "come dribble shite" to me vibes will abate soon.

BBC America - Coupling

Just so you know what I'll be doing Sunday... in my pjs.

(Shut up! You envy my exciting life.)

Mexicurios Auctions, online mexican hand wrought folklorica crafts and curios Auction Community!

Oh.My.God.

It's like ebay exclusively for all the weird shit I like.

Potty Mouth

I don't understand women that want to talk to you, or each other in the bathroom. While they are, or you are, in a cubicle ... doing your "business."

I hate that. I hate hate hate hate hate it.

I do not want to converse over the sound of flushing or anything else.

Also, can you at least pretend you care about hygeine? Look, if you don't wash your hands when no one is looking... fine (well, actually...eww, especially when I see you digging in the ice bin). But, for my sake, pretend you do and wash your hands.

Thanks.

(And you thought I was going to talk about cursing... again. Wrong.)

Ollie

Ollie's a web celeb!

Mi Patron

If there is one thing that really grates on my nerves, it's being patronized. (Ok, you got me, there are many things that get on my nerves.... but right this very second it is this.)

It's a chronic state of affairs for men here in Texas.

Listen, just because I have boobs does not mean that I'm stupid. Just because I can joke about myself does not mean I'm stupid.

In fact, secretly I'm laughing at you, you big buffoon, because the more you patronize me the more I'm going to act dumb.... just to see how self-inlfated and ridiculous you get.

By the way? It's inseparable, not insepTarable.

Dick.

The cure for anti-freeze? Hard Liquour!

Dear the entire world,

(I don't care, but you already knew that.) Quit asking me to make decisions about stupid things that you don't want to think about.

Regards,

Les C

Decrepitude

It's been a not so good month for the ol' body. It's been one ridiculous and annoying injury after another. God.

Due to some shenanigans on our stairs I've managed to give myself another reason to limp.

Things hurt a lot more and a lot longer than they used to.

I'm getting old.

I'm turning 29 this month.

Ha.

You know I'm completely godless.

Well, maybe completely is overstating it.

Maybe "have no religious affiliation" is more accurate.

Stop being pedantic.

What I wanted to tell you is though I'm somewhat godless, it doesn't necessarily mean I don't sometimes envy those that have a strong faith.

I can only imagine the comfort they gain in putting their prayers out there to something they think is listening. Like those two nicely dressed young men that had parked their bikes for a moment besides the water/bird reserve near my house. They were both sitting and praying together. How nice.

Meanwhile, I'm setting up little scenarios on my desk with the box of guatemalan (or whatever) worry dolls I got from someone at somepoint (maybe my mom?). One is spanking another. Another young couple is engaged in the act of fellatio.

Charming.

Animal Detail
!!!!

If you are in Houston, you must save this dog.

Keep Aways

In my ever so friendly style, I've put up a hobo symbol that means "keep away" in my cubicle. I would have put up one for "ill tempered woman lives here" but couldn't find one.

CNN.com - New on Fox: Crazy, out-of-control brides - Jan. 7, 2003

Horrendous.

Link courtesy of Les Jodi .

PS. Pi, a movie I recommend to anyone that needs serious couch time without complete stupefaction (god, thanks for telling me I'd totally screwed the spelling on that earlier) is on IFC. (You knew I'd dig this movie knowing how I dig chaos theory, and the search for hidden patterns like I do.)

God.

Benny cried for three hours yesterday when they left. He loved them. There is still some hope he'll end up with them, but it was awful

I have a headache that won't budge. I've had it for a week now and I'm bloody sick and tired of it.

Today, especially today, I'm super les cranky-pants.

Here is my current plan of attack for dealing with the problem:
1. Work out
2. Drink lots of water
3. Take a long hot bath, turn on the jets and read short stories in the tub while drinking hot tea.
4. Take a valium and go to bed at 6 and hope tomorrow the headache is gone.
5. Self-treppanning (yes it's a shite link, gi'e us a break, our head was dying)

Poor Benny....

He's coming back in a few hours.

Apparently what would have been his new sister LOATHED him. Wanted to piss him off as much as possible. Sniff.

That's ok, he'll be happy to come back. And, he can stay here as long as it takes to find the right home.

Two specific ways in which my brain is broken (of the many ways that is):

1. I still will spell "friend" like this: freind. This happens more often than not. I have to say "i before e, i before e" to myself. Also, I always have to look up how to spell barbecue properly. I blame this on the fact that english is not my native language. Though I'll never forget that river is spelled with a 'v' not a 'b' because my oh so kind first grade teacher pointed out that "in english we distiguish between the v and b sounds." (Nice.)
2. I will insist that 9 is a prime number even when shown proof that 3 is the square root of, or that 3 x 3 = 9. I got that wrong on every "speed math" test in elementary school.

Oh GOD! Shut up! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!

I swear to you, this asshole has been sitting in the next cube over talking in a drone for two fucking hours straight and I'm about to go insane. It is just a low constant buzzing. I can even hear it over the music in my headphones (oh, I got over the gaye mexican pop hours ago).

Not exactly a ground breaking article, but a succinct argument nevertheless. Plus this author's name is just the bestest.

Good Luck Benny!

Today Benny went home with a very nice guy to see how he'd work out in their home. Good Luck Benny! We'll be sad and miss you, but happy that you've found a really nice home!

FOX SPORTS | Cricket | Waugh equals Bradman (January 4, 2003)

Kill me now. I never thought I'd say this.... in fact, if you tell anyone I'll deny it.

I, um, kind of miss cricket.

Mind you, I've never actually watched it that much....but, I miss the essence of having it on in the background.

Shhh....I have a secret to tell you.

First, let me be the first to acknowledge that I'm not a cheesy love song sort of girl (I mean, outside of the swinging and cool era of frankie et. al.). Really.

Well usually.

But, I have a CD of cheesy love songs by a mexican pop crooner. (For fuck's sake people, it has the spanish cover of a disney cartoon ballad). It is like ten million years old. Every once in a while, I can't help it...I have to listen to it..and sing along to it in my head...and I try to avoid speaking spanish as often as possible to avoid complete mortification. It's like a double naughy pleasure to listen and sing along (albeit silently) to this CD.

Shh.....don't tell anyone. We wouldn't want to spoil the ultra-super-cool persona I work so hard on. (Um, and we'll ignore the effects of that little 'incident' on my rollerblades, ok?)

Right now? Right this very second?

I hate everything and everyone.

That is all.

Bending God's Ear for a Fee

Ah, economics at work.

Animal Detail

Anyone in houston need a cute terrier? :(

Current Correspondence

1.
Dear Guy in the next row of kyoobs,

If I hear you hack your phlegm up one more time I will hurl (as loudly and horrendously as possible) into my rubbish bin. I will make loud pointed remarks about how revolting hearing the consistency of other people's throat slime being coughed up really is. I will start wearing surgeon's masks and disposable gloves to work and let people know that it is the amount of germs streaming directly from your kyoob to mine that is causing me to go on the defensive.

Regards,
Howardette Hughes

2.

Dear Nameless Person who pops microwave popcorn everyday,

Please stop. The smell drifting down the halls is atrocious.

Regards,
Les C

3.

Dear Cow who stood us up on the meeting that was supposed to take place between you and Benny last Sunday,

You suck. You are a complete coward. I'm going to keep calling your house because I'm "concerned" that I haven't heard from you. One day you will mess up and pick up the phone instead of having your kids make excuses for you. Actually, I'm not. But, we all think you are an asshole.

Regards,
The Peoples and the Beags

4.

Dear Evil German Gingerbread Cookies,

Will you stop at nothing with your tempting lovliness? I refuse to eat another one of you. Ok, well maybe one more.

Regards,
Les Gluttona

5.

Dear co-worker that laughs like hee-haw whilst slapping your knee,

Stop. Just Stop.

Regards,
Not Amused

I am one CLASSY dame...

You may not believe this, but I curse a lot. No, really, I do. I know. People (especially here in the, oh so polite land of Texas) are appalled. I blame it on my stint in 'straya, as people do tend to curse more freely there. (Anyways, get the fuck over it I says).

Right, so I was saying. I curse a lot. One thing that is said often at our house is "Fuck Off!" or a variant thereof. That, and that little aussie gem "Get fucked mate!"

So, I've decided that it is just so trashy to curse like that (I mean, so repetitively). In an effort to inject more class into our home environment I've decided to affect an irish accent and say "Feck Off!" to substitute for the former and go for a little slavic twist with a new and improved "You fuckoffski!" for the latter.

I'm charming.

You should introduce me to your mum.

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This cracked me up. Totally. Because I can see me doing this. Usually this happens to me in Eckerd's. I still have not managed to ever purchase anything in Eckerd's because I get so pissed off that I eventually throw items down in a heap and walk off in a huff.

Who knows why I keep trying.

Yet more proof that I'm an absolute asshole:

I wear my headphones at work. With no music. Just so people won't stop at my kyoob and talk to me about their warm and wonderful holiday experiences.

Ice Dancing

Why?

Why?

The only worthwile moment was Brian Boitano taking a big deep cleansing breath and "centering" himself before he started in on his "Girl from Ipanema" routine. (edited to add: The only reason this was worthwhile is because it made my laugh like a hyena, thereby bringing me out of the trance that kept me from changing the channel.)

Don't ask me why it was on tv. All I know is that it suddenly was, and I was frozen by the complete comfort of my semi-fetal curl on the couch under blankets and unable to change the channel to something less horrifying until after the first few swirling rounds of Boitano and some girl dancing barefooted on a platform.

The Great Champagne Experiment

Subjects: Moi and The D

Hypothesis: There is, indeed, no champagne that I can tolerate.

Control: Are you kidding? Why start now?

Experiment:
So, I have been known to say that I have not yet had any champagne, sparkling wine, or other bubbly wine-like beverage that doesn’t make me go into immediate gag-reflex-instant-hangover shudders. I know, I know… you know just the right bottle to change my mind. I say bollocks. Last night was champagne’s last hurrah in my life.

Mind you, I did the research. Read up on champagne vs. bubbly from other regions, bubbles and their size and consistency, vintage vs. non-vintage, etc. After thought and consultation I selected a mid-price bottle from Champagne (the region) and eagerly chilled it in our refrigerator in anticipation of the big moment when I drank a glass of champagne that I would actually enjoy. I was promised crème brulee, and a clean apple finish with good bubbles.

Well, I’m here to tell you it was revolting. Awful. Liars…every single mofo that has ever tried to tell me that the reason I hate champagne is because I haven’t had the good stuff. It was vile. Cat’s piss has nothing on champagne.

I even tried the old trick of cutting it with orange juice (well, actually I sacrificed a few good clementines). It was all for naught. It was completely undrinkable.

D reminded me of the days when I could drink straight room-temperature goon (ie. Cask wine), and told me to buck up and drink. Trust me, a horrendous casked Riesling or even chenin is a fine drop compared to that glass that was absolute vileness. Even he gave up after a glass of it.

Thankfully, he did away with the bottle before I descended from my bedroom this morning.

Result:Hypothesis confirmed.