Color

While I was washing the dishes last night, I was watching two male cardinals having some sort of territorial squabble in the neighbor's backyard. It was startling to see those bright flashes of red, when everything else is still blah brown. And it reminded me, pretty soon my garden will have actual flowers in it! Colored flowers! All different colors! Gosh, I can't wait.

That's one of the problems with winter. Everything is so blah and muted. Of course, the sky can be a brilliant blue in winter; unfortunately, that usually happens on the days when it's zero degrees out.

My day lilies are poking out of the ground, along with the daffodils, hyacinths, bleeding heart, etc. The lilac has lots of buds, as well as the rhododendron. I'm hoping the hydrangeas do well this year, 'cause they're my absolute favorites. Oh, and the honeysuckle. Two of the azaleas look good, and I'm really pulling for the third one, 'cause it tries so hard.

I'll put out the hummingbird feeder this weekend. The earliest I've ever seen one (a hummingbird, not a feeder) is the third week in April, but I put the feeder up early just in case some are passing through. I put up the finch feeder last weekend, and moved the suet feeder to a tree downstairs. I've found that I can't put out any bird food that the squirrels have any interest in whatsoever, because they'll clean out a bird feeder in about 20 minutes, no problem. Ya gotta hand it to the little bastards, they can figure out any "squirrel-proof" feeder ever made within a day or two.

It looks up something may have dug up my little peony bush over the winter. If so, I'll have to get another one, 'cause I'm just determined to have a peony bush. The Rose of Sharons (Roses of Sharon?) that I put in last summer are looking good (i.e., still there). And I can't wait to see if the hollyhocks self-seeded. If not, I saved some seeds, and I'll start them again. I don't know if I'm going to monkey with the gladioli this year; I planted a crapload last year, and only got a few blossoms. Oh well.

So that's the garden update. Pretty soon I'll be down in the garden, farting around, wanting to plant some annuals, although I know darn well that it's not safe (frost-wise) to put in annuals around here until after Memorial Day. Which makes for a short season! Time to move south.

Ha Ha Ha Ha HA!

I got home last night, and I could hear the TV on downstairs, but it was at a reasonable level. I was wondering about Paulie and Jim, who live in the other downstairs apartment. If I was hearing the TV at a reasonable level through 12" of new insulation, that meant Jabba had to be cranking it again downstairs, and it had to be driving Paulie and Jim crazy. Unfortunately, they can't complain, because Jim used to rent the apartment they live in now, then he skipped out owing a bunch of back rent. Paulie then took over the rent, but Joe the former building supervisor, who Jim skipped out on, has no idea that Jim is back living down there. And Jim would probably end up in jail if Joe found out. Make sense? Sorry, I can't figure out a way to make it less convoluted. Anyway, Paulie and Jim can't complain. And the noise has to be driving them nuts. And last night, I was watching TV, and I could hear Jabba's TV but not loud, which meant it must have been really loud downstairs, when all of a sudden I hear:

FUUUCCCKKK! BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM! FUUUCCCKK! BAM BAM BAM!

Evidently, either Jim or Paulie finally lost their shit and started pounding on the wall. Classic! And it was nice and quiet for the rest of the night.

Jabba Part ........ Oh, Whatever

I got home last night to REALLY LOUD NOISE. If you think you're sick of reading about it, think how sick I am of living it. I called Jabba and told him to turn the TV down. "Oh, is it too loud?" he said. This guy is either: (a) deaf, or (b) an asshole. Five minutes later, Vinnie called me back, and I told him he needed to turn it down more, because it was just as loud as it was before. No luck. So I called his son Joe and left a message on his machine, and about half an hour later Jabba turned the tv down.

The guys are supposed to come install the insulation today, but as I told Joe in my message last night, unless they use some kind of sound-proofing, insulation is not gonna do a heck of a lot of good at the volume Jabbas got that TV.

I am about to go all Rambo about this. I'm so sick of it. And what is starting to piss me off is that this jerk knows his TV is too loud, and he doesn't give a good goddamn.

Jabba Part III

The last time I posted, it was Thursday morning, and all had been quiet downstairs for a few days. I got home Thursday night to the REALLY LOUD NOISE, and woke up Friday morning to REALLY LOUD NOISE. So I called Jabba's son Joe Friday morning and left a message, when I had been at work for an hour and a half and my ears were still ringing.

When it was almost noon and the ringing hadn't stopped, I got worried and called my doctor's office ('cause I'm a wuss). They said they could see me that day (miracle!) and I went to the doctor's. It turned out that my left ear is infected, and my right ear is almost totally blocked with ear wax (I know, I know, how gross is THAT?). So they tried to pressure wash my ears, at which point I got so dizzy I almost passed out. Oops! Now I am on antibiotics (which make me violently, gut-grabbing sick about an hour after I take them) and ear drops.

So, I get home Friday night to REALLY LOUD NOISE. I was just about to go downstairs and kill Jabba when his son Joe called. Joe said he would call his dad right then and tell him to TURN DOWN THE TV, DAMMIT, and Joe said he would be over Saturday to try to work out the situation.

Oh, and to add to the joy, I had to work Saturday. But you know what? At this point, being at work beats being at home by a long way.

Joe came over Saturday and moved/did something to the oxygen machine so I don't have to listen to that anymore. And he said someone would be over today (Monday) or tomorrow to install super-duper, 12" thick insulation in his dad's ceiling. And it was quiet all weekend.

But wait! On Saturday night, Stephen from the apartment next door came over. He said that he played electric guitar, and had been playing it unplugged when I was home, but wanted to know if he could plug it in and play it, and see if it bothered me - if so, he would keep it unplugged while I was home. Sure, Stephen! Go right ahead! Plug in that guitar! At this point, why not! So he went over to his place, presumably plugged in his guitar and started playing, and I heard ......... nothing. Whew!

So that's the update. If I can just get Jabba to TURN DOWN THAT GODDAM TV, all will be well. Wish me luck! I am trying to think of something I can write right now so that I don't somehow jinx myself ......... abracadabra? Oh please oh please oh please.

Jabba Part II

OK, so Jabba's still alive. His TV has been quiet since my Monday meltdown. Unfortunately, he evidently has some piece of medical equipment or something down there that emits a low, steady droning sound (like that of a generator), because now that he's turned down his TV, I can hear that low, steady droning sound ALL THE TIME. Much better than the TV, but still. Sigh. Oh well, with his habit of smoking while on oxygen, he should be shuffling off this mortal coil real soon. Hopefully, he won't take the rest of us in the building with him.

Jabba the Hutt

The new guy moved in downstairs on Friday while I was at work. When I got home from work, all I could hear in my apartment was REALLY LOUD NOISE from downstairs. I figured the new guy probably had some friends over helping him move, they were probably having a few beers and playing some CDs, and I let it go.

I woke up Saturday around 2 a.m. to REALLY LOUD NOISE from downstairs. It wasn't music playing; although there was occasionally music, there were voices and other noise. It sounded like someone was playing a video game with the volume set really high.

I woke up again on Saturday, around 7 a.m., to REALLY LOUD NOISE. I got up, took a shower, read the paper, made the bed, all to REALLY LOUD NOISE. Finally, around 10 a.m., I went downstairs to see what was up. I knocked on the new neighbor's door, he opened it up, and I was face to face with

JABBA THE HUTT. I swear, this guy looks like Jabba the Hutt. Around 5'5", around 400 lbs., wearing a pair of sweatpants that were just about falling off his butt, with oxygen tank thingies in his nose, smoking a cigarette. Oh Dear Lord.

And the noise? It's his tv. Tuned to CNN, cranked to ear-bleeding volume. I introduced myself, and told his he needed to turn down his TV. "Oh!" he said. "Is it too loud? It doesn't sound too loud to me!" Here we go again. I went through the usual spiel for too-loud tenants, that it was so loud it was giving me a headache, that he would need to get headphones or turn it down, blah blah blah. And I went and did my usual Saturday errands, came back in the afternoon, walked into my apartment, and heard the REALLY LOUD NOISE all over again. Now this guy is the old building superintendent's father (not the landlord's uncle, as I had been told). So I called the old building superintendent, Joe, and left a message on his machine about the REALLY LOUD NOISE coming from his dad's apartment. Then I went back downstairs and told Jabba that he needed to turn it down. "Oh!" he said. "Is it too loud?" But he did turn it down, and Saturday night and Sunday it was blessedly quiet. Joe, his son, called around 5 p.m. Sunday and I explained the situation. "I was afraid of this", Joe said. "Dad really likes to crank his TV. Everybody was loud in his old apartment building, so nobody cared. But I really wanted to get Dad out of that environment, away from the riff-raff. Looks like it's Dad who's the riff-raff, huh?" Yeah. That's right. So anyway, we discussed headphones, etc., and I said that all had been quiet since yesterday, and I was so glad, blah blah blah.

And about five minutes after I got off the phone with Joe, the REALLY LOUD NOISE came back. And stayed until about 10 last night. And started up around 7:20 this morning. So I called Joe and left a message on his machine and I sure hope I hear from him today and this problem gets fixed. Because? If I get home from work tonight and hear REALLY LOUD NOISE, there is going to be one dead Jabba the Hutt downstairs. I am going to lose my mind if I have to listen to that noise one more time.

So if you don't see any more posts here, it's because I'm in prison. For the murder of Jabba the Hutt.

Two Words: Torchiere Lamp

One good thing that did come out of my horrible excursion to WalMart last weekend is a new torchiere lamp. Torchiere lamps are the ones that sit on the floor and have a tall, skinny pole with a lamp on the top (like a torch!).

Anyhow, a while back when my eyesight started to go (because I am, like, 80 years old (not really) (almost)), I was looking for a torchiere to put next to my reading chair, because the two lamps already in the room were no longer cutting it. So I went all over the place, looking for a reasonably priced torchiere, and the cheapest one I found was, like, fifty bucks, which if you read this blog regularly you know is about forty bucks over my budget. Then I went to WalMart and found a torchiere with an extra bendy reading lamp attached for twelve bucks! Shopping heaven! So it's been next to my chair ever since.

I was in the bedroom painting last weekend and folks, it was pretty gloomy in there. Even with two lamps on, the bedroom was still all shadowy, which I never really noticed before because normally when I am in the bedroom I'm asleep. So I picked up another torchiere (without the extra bendy reading lamp, $8.97, thank you evil WalMart), and now my bedroom is lit up like a runway at O'Hare! yay light!

Next up, the kitchen. Because especially at this time of year, and especially since my eyes starting getting older along with the rest of me, the more light the better. And if a plane accidentally lands in my backyard because the pilot thought he saw landing lights? Oops!

Sauder Furniture

I was going to write about The Incredible Torchiere, but I starting thinking about my tv stand (don't ask), so I'll write about that instead.

A while ago, I decided it would be a good idea to get a wooden tv stand sort of thing that I could put in an empty space in my living room and store stuff (junk) in. Of course I hit the thrift stores first, but everything was banged up/tilty/covered with Hello Kitty stickers/not right. I happened to be in Big Lots (shout out to Big Lots! Home of lots of incredibly cheaply produced crap!) and saw a "microwave stand" that looked just about right. (What's the difference between a microwave stand and a tv stand? The amount of weight they can bear! Put a tv on a microwave stand and watch the stand explode/collapse from the weight! How do I know? Don't ask. No, really, I've never actually tried it, but it totally seems like something I would try, with disastrous results.)

So, the microwave stand in Big Lots was Sauder brand. For those of you not familiar, Sauder sells microwave stands/bookshelves/plant stands/computer desks/etc., which come unassembled. As in, I dare you to put this together. So this stand was only $20.00, and it actually looked like real wood, although we all know that Sauder stands for Particle Board with Wood Veneer approximately 1/98" thick. I figured, what the heck, brought it home, and got ready to put it together.

I opened the box, pulled out all the wood pieces, pulled out the baggies full of screws/nuts/washers/God Only Knows, pulled out the instructions (which called for a cordless screwdriver - Ooops! Sorry! Don't have one of those!), got out my old fashioned prehistoric screwdrivers, and got to work.

And it was fun! I had a blast! The instructions were actually written in English and understandable, and I enjoyed it so much that I actually dragged out the assembly process over several days, because I am Screwdriver Woman! Putting together actual furniture (ok, ok, microwave stand)! Having fun!

A few months after that, my mom needed a tv stand for her bedroom, so I went back to Big Lots, picked up a unassembled Sauder tv stand, which was only very, very slightly different from the microwave stand (as in, it was a little bigger and sturdier to carry more weight (see above)), and took it up to TIB's house where mom lives to put it together.

And it was a nightmare. The instructions read as if they had been written in English, translated into Japanese on one of those web sites, and translated back into English again (I guess the instruction manual writers were bored that day!). The pre-drilled screwholes were off-kilter, there were too many of some screws and not enough of others, etc., etc. etc. I finally managed to get the thing together, but it was not pretty.

A few months after that, because I am stupid, I bought an unassembled plant stand, and after several attempts of trying to put the damn thing together, I had a great idea! Ha, ha, look out! I took the thing into work and proudly announced the First Ever Office Engineering Challenge! Luckily, I work for engineers! And they pounced on that bad boy, and put it together for me. Of course, there's lots of gouges in the wood, and there were some extra screws left over, and the whole thing is kind of ...... tippy. And it doesn't really look a whole lot like the picture on the box. That's engineers for you!

The moral of the story? Got me. The results of my furniture building experiences were varied. But now I've got it out of my system. Now I'm painting my apartment.

Apartment Living

We are having a tenant shuffle in my building. The apartment next to mine has been vacant since last fall, when Bill moved out. Now Stephen, who currently lives below me, is moving up next to me. This is the guy I have had to talk to several times about the level of the bass on his stereo. Picture it, if you will: I am hanging out in my apartment on a Saturday, minding my own business, and from downstairs all I can hear is "boomp boomp, boomp boomp boomp, boomp boomp" from the bass on Stephen's stereo. After five hours of this, I finally lose my shit and go downstairs and knock on Stephen's door. And when he opens his door, I hear "BOOMP, BOOMP, BOOMP BOOMP BOOMP", so loud that my hair is practically blowing back from my head from the decibels. And I ask him to please turn down the bass on his stereo, and he says "Oh! Is it too loud? Really?! Because I can hardly hear it!" Oh, Pleeease. Give me a break.

So we have had this particular conversation a few times since then, the last time a few days before Christmas, when things took a nasty turn. After a few hours of "boomp, boomp, boomp boomp boomp", I knocked on his door, and he basically told me to shove it. That he had a "right" to listen to his stereo as loud as he wanted to, blah blah blah. This is kind of a scary (creepy) dude, and I wasn't about to get into a pissing match with him, so I just said, "I'm sorry you feel that way", and walked away, planning on calling the landlord the next day. Note to Stephen: It's not a good idea to tell the building manager (me) to shove it when she asks you to turn down your (way too loud) music. Especially when music levels are specifically addressed in the Building Policy that you signed before you moved in.

SO, the next day, before I could call the landlord, Stephen came to me and apologized, said he had been having a really bad day the day before, and he would no longer be playing his stereo at a loud level. I accepted his apology (because I am nothing if not gracious (!)), and advised him to buy headphones if he wanted to crank his stereo. I have had no stereo volume problems with Stephen since then.

But, now he is going to be living next to me, and let's just say I'm a little (very) wary. NOTE TO APARTMENT DWELLERS: None of your fellow tenants, and that means NONE, wants to hear your loud music. Nobody appreciates it. Nobody is sitting in their apartment going "Gee, it's so nice of him to share his Young Jeezy at ear-splitting volume with me!" Just so you know.

It turns out that the reason Stephen is moving upstairs is because the landlord has a disabled uncle who is moving into Stephen's old first floor apartment (I am assuming he is physically disabled and can't handle stairs). You know what my first thought was? "Great, he's disabled, he'll be nice and quiet!" HOW BAD IS THAT? Why on earth would I assume that since he is disabled, he doesn't like to crank his stereo?

So the new guy moves in on Friday. Lord help me.

Chapter 14, Wherein I Lose My Shit at WalMart

OK, so I went to Walmart yesterday afternoon after putting a coat of semi-gloss on top of the Primer Paint of Death. BTW, do not use cheap disposable paint rollers - I used them for the Primer Paint of Death, and when I was putting on the semi-gloss yesterday, I noticed all these little teeny bits of roller stuck to the wall like bugs on a windshield. Time to break out the sandpaper!

So anyway, I went to Walmart. On a Sunday afternoon. Big mistake. Because, apparently, every yahoo in the free world goes to Walmart on Sunday afternoon. I do not enjoy shopping at Walmart when the store is not busy (say, Tuesday at 3 a.m.), and I certainly will not be going back on Sunday afternoon anytime soon.

It starts with the parking lot, with people cutting across the parking lot every which way - just like bumper cars! Except my bumper car cost over $11,000.00 used! So please don't hit me! I actually once saw two people, in two different cars, go all demolition derby over a handicapped parking space at Walmart.

Next you have to watch out for the thugs in the parking lot. I know, this sounds ridiculous! Why aren't they hanging out downtown or something! Instead, the parking lot at Walmart has become gang-banger city. I don't know why - given the amount of traffic in the parking lot, any crime would have at least 15 witnesses. Maybe they just enjoy the Walmart parking lot ambiance. Somehow guys with do-rags and hanging-down jeans and big parkas just look funny at Walmart. Out of their environment, like penguins at the symphony or something.

OK, now we're in the store. And those people? Driving the bumper cars? They are also now in the store, steering their shopping carts the exact same way. Cutting across aisles, careening around corners, like those old TV shows where you could win as many groceries as you could stuff into your cart in thirty seconds. And my favorite maneuver? The middle-of-the-aisle dead stop. Because why pull your cart over to the edge of the aisle so people could get by, when you can park right in the middle? And then peruse (shampoo, dust mop, whatever) while standing between your cart and one side of the aisle, thus ensuring that absolutely no one can get past. And if someone says, "excuse me", make sure to shoot them a dirty look before moving your cart approximately 1", so that, theoretically, people could get by, if they have an advanced degree in physics and can properly figure out the warps in the space-time continuum they will need to negotiate to fit their cart past yours.

So there I was in Walmart, trying not to Lose My Shit, because I know someone (my niece) who knows someone (her friend) who got punched out at Walmart for commenting on another shopper. For real! But I could feel myself getting tenser by the minute, so I grabbed what I needed and got out of there. And guess what? I saw some really cute sneakers? With ribbons? That would be totally cool this summer? And they were $8.97? And I was too cheap to buy them! Because I already have nine million pairs of sandals, sneakers, etc. What does it say about me that I am too cheap to buy Walmart sneakers?

OK, so I'm not going back to Walmart on Sunday afternoon anytime soon. The yahoos can have it. And, I totally forgot to mention the screaming children! Two per cart!

Asphyxiation, Asphyxiaaaa-aaaa-tion

The apartment painting project continues - I've been working on the bedroom. The previous tenants, Kim and Kevin, were the last ones to paint the bedroom. Kim and Kevin, thank you soooo much! They got a bunch of paint from Kevin's uncle, mixed it all together, and painted the bedroom a dark olive green. Thanks guys!

So I decided I wanted the walls to be white, and off I went, starting with the west wall. Two coats of primer, one coat of flat paint, and two coats of semi-gloss later, the wall was ..... not white. Almost white. White with a green tint. Kinda a puke-white. At which point I discovered that the paint they used, courtesy of Kevin's uncle, was evidently oil-based. And would need to be covered with an oil-based primer, not the latex-based stuff that I used.

Down but not defeated, I decided to paint the other walls, starting with oil-based primer, and then possibly get back to the wall I had already put 5(!) coats of paint on, at some point in the future when I wasn't so depressed.

So! Last weekend, I went and picked up a gallon of oil-based primer, disposable roller pan liners, turpentine for cleaning up splatters, etc. And I started painted the north wall. And stopped breathing.

I can't believe it is legal to sell oil-based primer! I must have lost most of my remaining brain cells from the fumes that were coming off that stuff! Stink?? Oh, My God. I did the first coat, went to run some errands so that I could breathe again, and when I got back to the building, I could smell the paint outside on the back deck! With all the doors and windows closed! So I bit the bullet and did the second coat, this time with windows open in 20 degree weather, and the apartment still stunk for two days after that. I'm talking eyes running, headache-inducing stink.

I will never use that stuff again. Because, you know what? After two primer coats of the Paint of Death, the green still shows through. So this weekend, I will put on a coat of latex semi-gloss and live with the result. Because I like breathing.

Thanks again, Kim and Kevin!

Lost

1. Way to cover, Kate! Sayeed's ten feet into the clearing when he takes a bullet in the shoulder.

2. Submarines?! Paging Captain Nemo!

3. Did Sayeed really torture that woman, or did he just "confess" once he found out that the result for doing so would not be (a) death, but (b) forgiveness.

4. What did the black woman say to eye patch to make him shoot her?

5. Best Sawyer nickname: "Grimace", for Hurley. Does anyone besides me remember Grimace from McDonald's?

6. Best way to blow up a building - enter 77 and let them know that the building has been overrun.

7. We know the cat made it, but what about the poor horse?

Francis the Talking Mule

I've heard about The Mars Volta but never listened to any of their stuff. So I was browsing the CDs at the library the other day, and they had Frances the Mute by The Mars Volta, except the library had cataloged it as "Francis the Mule"! Ha ha ha ha ha! Does anybody else remember those old "Francis the Talking Mule" movies?

So I did a google search for "Francis the Mule", and discovered that The Mars Volta had evidently used that as inspiration for the CD title "Frances the Mute". So the library was not so far off after all.

Anyway, right now I'm listening to the CD, which I alternately like and find annoying. The music is a crazy mash-up of all different kinds of styles. I tend to like the idea of far-out music better than the execution. "Songs in the Key of Z", anyone? There is no denying that the musicians in The Mars Volta are very talented, I just don't know if I like their stuff.

I was watching a documentary the other night about some crazy (as in, mentally ill) guy out in LA who has been making music his whole life. At one point, he was collaborating with Frank Zappa, and some other music people helped him put out an album of his songs. He was hailed as a genius, etc., but I thought his music pretty much sucked, and I couldn't help but thinking that those music people might be better off getting him some mental health help instead of encouraging his "genius". I wasn't watching that closely, to be honest, so maybe they did try to help and I missed it. But at the end of the documentary, he had to go into assisted living, and he started taking medication for his mental problems, and they presented it as sad that the medication made him lose his "pep", or his musical genius. I know that lots of artists kind of tend to be on the fringes of sanity - is that a prerequisite? And if you can only create good stuff when you're nuts, is it "you" doing the creating, or the "nuts" part? I don't know where I'm going with this - just thought I'd throw it out there.

Tax Returns

Yay! I just finished my tax returns! And they're in their little envelopes with stamps on them, all ready to go in the mail!

And I got thinking about my mom's tax returns. In the past, the accountant who handled the taxes for my dad's business did my mom's tax returns (poorly, in my humble opinion, with much filing of extensions, etc.) after dad died (sorry, I know that doesn't make much sense, but I don't know how to make it clearer.) (I would insert "My Bad" here, but if there is a phrase that I hate worse than "My Bad", I can't think of it right now.) So anyway, the business got sold, and we needed to find someone to do mom's taxes last year. I do my own taxes, but they are pathetically simple, and mom has all kinds of trust income, etc., which I have no idea how to do. I asked my sister T.I.B., who mom lives with, if her accountant could do it. And T.I.B. was all, "Oh, he does our taxes for us, but he's not really an accountant, and he's really busy, and I think he's sick and blah blah blah" T.I.B. was not touching this with a 10-ft. pole. So I e-mailed the guy at the bank who handles mom's accounts to see if they would do it, or recommend someone, and sent a copy of the e-mail to my sister Alabama (or Florida, or wherever the hell she is right now), because I copy her on all mom's stuff.

So my sister Alabama e-mails back and says, "I'll do mom's taxes! I have Quickbooks! It'll take two minutes!" After which followed weeks of "I can't find this form", and "I don't have a copy of her blah-blah-blah", and "I'm going out of town, but I'll do it when I get back", followed by weeks of deadly silence. Because I am kind, I am going under the assumption that the taxes got filed.

So! Now it's time to start thinking about mom's tax returns! But I'm not! I refuse! That particular rat is going right back in the cage and staying there! BTW, my sister Texas does volunteer work helping senior citizens fill out their tax returns. Complicated, mind-bending returns with all sorts of trust income, etc. When I asked if she would do mom's taxes, the reply was dead silence, followed by a Changing of the Subject.

So! If everyone else in the family is refusing to deal with this particular subject, why should I? Right? Right? Tax returns? What tax returns?

P.S. I know what you're thinking - "Hello, H & R Block!" I repeat, tax returns? What tax returns?

All Killer No Filler

My favorite mix CD:
1. Stone in Love - Journey
2. Do Ya - ELO
3. Good Times Roll - The Cars
4. You're All I've Got Tonight - The Cars
5. Bye Bye Love - The Cars
6. Don't Cha Stop - The Cars
7. Ah! Leah! - Donnie Iris
8. Ready to Go - Republica
9. Banditos - The Refreshments
10.Birdhouse in Your Soul - They Might Be Giants
11. Carpet of the Sun - Renaissance
12.Head over Heels - The Go-Gos
13.Don't Want to Wait Anymore - The Tubes
14.Heart and Soul - T'Pau
15.Surrender - Cheap Trick
16.Learn to Fly - Foo Fighters
17.Harder to Breathe - Maroon 5
18.And She Was - Talking Heads
19.Out of My Head - Fastball
20.It's the End of the World as We Know It - R.E.M.

Girls suspended for v-word use

A high school suspended three girls for saying the word "vagina". (Click on the link above for the news story.)

In the headline, they use "v-word". "V-word"? Oh, please. Since when is "vagina" a dirty word? They should have used "vah-jay-jay" - at least it would have made me laugh.

Update: OK, it's the next day, and I'm still thinking about this. The other "initial-dash-word" words that I can think of off the top of my head are the F-word, the N-word, and the C-word. Does that mean that "vagina" is on the same playing field as "fuck", "nigger" and "cunt"? I don't know why I can't let this drop - it just doesn't seem to me that "vagina" is an offensive word.

Crazy Cat Lady

Oh no! Exador read my previous post re Rocky and sent me a link to a Crazy Cat Lady action figure (click on title above - Thanks, Exador!)! Please, you must understand! I'm not a crazy cat lady!

1. I have only one cat. Just the one.

2. I love my cat, but I do not love all cats. Really, Rocky is the only cat I know that I even like.

3. I don't think I love Rocky any more than anybody else loves their pets. I mean, if you don't love them, what's the point of keeping them around?

Whew. Is everybody convinced? Please? The absolute last thing I want anybody to think is that I'm a crazy cat lady.

And you know what? I'm totally ready to buy the Crazy Cat Lady action figure - I think it's hysterical. Thanks for the heads up, Exador!

Happy Birthday, Rocky!

Today is my cat Rocky's 15th birthday. Here's some things that are great about Rocky:

He goes on vacation with me to the lake every summer. He spends most of his time underneath the cottage, but he comes out at night to sleep on the bed with me.

When I am sick, he is very patient about not getting fed on time. He's also very good about bringing me mice when I'm sick (maybe he's eating more of them than he's bringing to me, and that's why he's so patient about the late food).

He forgave me for the accidental, absolutely horrific "lion cut" a sadistic groomer gave him (it was my idea that he get a haircut - matted fur, you know). He has also forgiven me for having to board him when I've gone out of town, even though I know that has got to be the worst possible experience for a pet.

When confronted with the neighbor's dalmatian, instead of running away, he jumped onto the dog's back and dug in.

So Happy Birthday, Rocky!

Life is Good

Today is a good day. My health is good, I have a roof over my head and food to eat and a car to drive and hobbies that I enjoy, and the cat is doing fine (Rocky turns 15 on Monday!).

There have been times when I didn't think my life would ever be good again. Everything was going wrong, and I didn't know if things would ever get better.

But now life is good, and I'm afraid that I don't appreciate that enough. So today I am reminding myself.

Square Pegs, Square Pegs, Square, Square Pegs!

(I'd like it if they liked us, but I don't think they like us) - theme song to Square Pegs

Back in the mists of time, there was a TV sitcom called "Square Pegs". At the time it was on, I thought it was a great show. Please keep in mind that I was much younger then.

Well, a while back, one of the cable channels was showing "Square Pegs", and I just had to check it out, because I remembered the show as being so good. So I eagerly started watching, and .......

It was terrible. I mean, a truly awful sitcom. I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that at one point in time, I liked this show. What was wrong with me? And twenty years from now, will I look back at the shows I enjoy now, and think, this is absolute crap?

How could I have liked that show?!