Weekend Random

I got home from work on Friday to discover that the neighborhood kids had utilized their snow day off from school to build a gigantic snow throne in the park next door. I thought about taking some spray paint over and gussying it up, but I decided that it was their throne, not mine. And by yesterday, a couple of the neighborhood baby-toughs were busy pummeling it to pieces, so it's all gone now.


On Saturday morning, Little Girl decided I needed help with my painting:





That's the brush water she's drinking. Yum.

I had to give the cats their flea meds on Sunday, which always knocks them for a loop. Poor dudes slept all day.

After taking Mom out to lunch on Saturday, I think some of the reason she can't use a knife any more is that her left hand isn't really functional. I mean, she can use it if she HAS to, she just ... doesn't, most of the time. Hard telling if she's had another stroke, or if it's just the Alzheimer's screwing with her some more.


Oh, the Hermit House is undergoing repairs! There's a dumpster out front and people were there working on it yesterday. There goes the neighborhood haunted house.

And! The rumored ice cream store, which never did come to pass, is now a rumored pizza shop. Neither one of which is good news for my waistline, but having a pizza store two blocks from my house WOULD be pretty awesome.

Yesterday I went shopping in a store I almost never go in, because their prices are so outrageous (Bon-Ton, I'm looking at YOU), and I scored a pair of black dress pumps on final-final-FINAL-please-just-take-them-we're-tired-of-moving-them-around clearance for FIVE BUCKS. Booya!

Now, that Trent Reznor who won the Oscar for Best Original Score last night - am I safe in assuming that it's the same Trent Reznor who fronts Nine Inch Nails? The same guy who sings, "I wanna f*ck you like an animal"? THAT Trent Reznor?

'Cause he cleaned up pretty good.

So. How was YOUR weekend?

Freaky Friday: Best. Nightlight. Ever.

Okay, first off, we got another dump of snow last night, meaning I was out bright and early shoveling the snow wall the plow-dude-who-hates-me left at the end of the driveway. Then, by the time I (finally) left for work, the snow had turned to sleet. It was like a demolition derby out there! Cars all over the place. So, that was fun. Not.

Now, on to Freaky Friday! Do you guys remember that movie "Carrie", based on the book by Stephen King, where Sissy Spacek played a teenager beset by ALL KINDS of f*cked-up problems, namely that she could basically kill people with her mind?

And there was that scene where her mother locks her in the closet and tells her to pray? Now, I don't remember if there WAS actually a Jesus nightlight in the closet, or if there was just a red light bulb that shone on a figure of Jesus, it's been a long time since I saw that flick, but I saw this nightlight, and I thought, "Carrie's closet!"

Yes, that's a giant clamshell behind Him. And smaller shells in front. I'm still trying to figure out the shell motif. Was Jesus crucified at the beach? 'Cause I don't think I remember that part.


Oh, but it's even better at NIGHT:

Dun dun DUUUUNNNNNNNNNN!

I will tell you right now, if anybody ever tries to break into my house through the kitchen, they're gonna see that thing on the counter and turn right back around. I know I would, anyway.

I love my Jesus nightlight.

Bad Decision Saturday

Okay, first off, you need to scroll down to my last post, where you can view a picture of an alien ghost with glowing eyes. Is true!

Oh, and also, I accidentally published this post yesterday, when it was still half-baked, so if you are thinking this looks familiar, you're right. Whoops.

Now on to my tale of self-induced woe:

Last Saturday, I headed for Ithaca. The weather report was calling for one to three inches of snow, which: big whoop. Is nothing. The roads were wet but clear when I headed out, and we had already gotten a couple of inches, so I figured the snow was almost done.

And I'm driving driving driving, and the closer I get to Tompkins County, the harder it's snowing. And the wind started whipping. And the snow was blowing and drifting across the road and the plows couldn't keep up and by the time I got to Danby it was, all, "abandon hope, all ye who enter here".



But! I was almost to Ithaca by then, and I figured I might as well soldier on, to the Ithaca Antique Center, i.e., the best store in the world. Because as we all know, when you are driving in snow, the last thing in the world you want to do is stop. Because you'll never get rolling again. See also: I'm an idiot who is evidently willing to risk her life to shop for antiques.

Damn, I'm dumb.


ANYhoo, I went to turn into the parking lot of the antique store, except, whoops, I slid right past the driveway. No big deal, I thought, I'll turn in to the second entrance, except, whoops, I slid right past that one, too. Sideways.


I was beginning to realize I'd made a really bad error in judgement by starting out that day. But hey! They were calling for one to three inches, not a flippin' BLIZZARD. It's not MY fault the weatherman sucks. Classic me-reasoning: It's not my STUPIDITY that's about to cause my death; it's the weatherman.


So! I go in the store and start browsing, waiting for the snow to let up, at least a leetle bit, 'cause I mean, come ON, how long can it keep snowing THAT HARD?

Well. Let me tell you. When I first started shopping, they had a CD on the sound system, I don't remember what it was, but then the CD changed and they started playing an old Bee Gees (!) album. The one with all the songs from "Saturday Night Fever" on it. "How Deep is Your Love", "Stayin' Alive", blah blah blah. And it was annoying the SHIT out of me, because I never LIKED the Bee Gees*, but I couldn't just leave, because BLIZZARD.

So this CD is just going on and on and ONNNNNNN, and then FINALLY I heard the "click" of THE END, and

it started playing again.

If I never hear a flippin' Bee Gees song AGAIN, it will be too soon.

So! I wasn't sure what was going to kill me first: Blizzard-covered roads, or the Bee Gees. But! I had to escape the Bee Gees, so I left the store, brushed the blizzard snow off the car, headed out, and made it home alive. The roads in Ithaca were pretty god-awful, but the closer I got to home, the better they got. Whew.


Oh! But DO NOT let me forget to tell you about the amazing solution to my little weight gain problem! Oh, hell, I'll go ahead and tell you right now: Yoga pants. I resisted for YEARS, and I'm not gonna wear them out in PUBLIC or anything, but: Yoga pants. I shit you not. They are SO MUCH MORE COMFORTABLE THAN JEANS, you guys. Word.


And! Oh my God! When the HELL did the Independent Film Channel starting showing commercials? When did that HAPPEN? Because I am NOT HAPPY.



The end.

And! We are supposed to get snow tonight. And tomorrow. How much? I do not know. Because the weatherman cannot make up his damn mind. Shit.




*Grown men singing in three-part falsetto? Please.

Dude. Duuuuuuuuude.

I was taking some pictures last night of The Runt's odd habit of staring upward at ... nothing. He just looks up into the ether, like there's a TV up there or something. This morning I was flipping through the pictures I took last night, and, well ...




So, there's The Runt, staring at a corner of the kitchen ceiling. Yeah, I know, I don't get it either. He'd hopped up onto the counter to get a closer look at ... whatever he was looking at. Now, look into the window. Directly above The Runt's right ear, you'll see the reflection of my hands holding the camera. Got it? Now, look to the right of that.

Hmmmm. Obviously, an alien ghost with glowing eyes was standing at my shoulder when I took that pic.

Great. Now I'll never sleep again.

Well, THIS is kind of embarrassing

Today is my anniversary.

My work anniversary.

My twenty-fourth work anniversary.

Yep, that's right. I've worked for the same company for twenty-four years.

Half my life.

And you know, that used to be something to be proud of, right? But now, you're looked at as some kind of a schmuck if you work for the same company too long. Like you're not quite bright enough to move up and on.

So I must be some kind of moron.

Heh.

Hey, I don't give a shit. My job has changed and morphed into something totally different than what it was in the beginning. Hell, I used a typewriter when I first started here. We didn't even get computers until after I'd been here for a couple of years. When I first started here, I made five bucks an hour.

Suffice it to say I make more than that now. And I'm able to support myself and pay a mortgage and make car payments and take an occasional trip and buy stuffed porcupines and do all kinds of stuff as a result of working here, so I'm content.

Happy anniversary to me! The old-timer.

What the flip is a "swim tee"?

Okay, I have a whole great big post coming about how I could have died on Saturday because of my disastrously bad idea to head to Ithaca on a winter day*, but first off, I was leafing through a Kohl's flyer and I see they have "swim tees for men" on sale.

Huh?

So, at first, I was, like, well, maybe guys have FINALLY gotten enough good sense to realize that seeing their flabby guts out on display is not exactly a turn-on for the laydeez, and "swim tees" are the solution!

Except, I don't think you're actually supposed to wear them WHILE swimming, because they look just like a regular tee shirt, and who wants all that wet tee-shirt fabric dragging you down while you're in the water?

So, maybe they're like a cover-up? Like, you're swimmingswimmingswimming, and then when you get out of the water, you put on your swim tee so the laydeez don't get a good look at your whale guts? But ... why can't you use a regular tee shirt for that? Why you need a special "swim tee"?

Now I'm confused.

*sigh*






*don't do it. Just WAIT FOR SPRING.

Product Review: Wish-Bone Light Thousand Island Salad Dressing

Okay, first off, let me say for the record that winter can shove it.

I woke up this morning to a fresh five inches of snow in the driveway and an ginormous snow wall at the end that the street plow dude had thoughtfully left for me. And at this point I am so tired of pulling on some sweats and grabbing the shovel and shovelshovelshoveling that I just want to cry.

And I KNOW that there are people out in the Midwest who have it much worse, but I'm pretty sure they all have snowblowers, so whatever.

Thus ends my diatribe against winter. STOP SNOWING, ALREADY.

So: On to my review of Wish-Bone Light Thousand Island Salad Dressing!

In a word: Ew.


I eat a lot of salad, and my go-to dressing has always been Wish-Bone Thousand Island. I grew up in a middle-class white family in the seventies: What can I say? It's like it was preordained that I like thousand island dressing. So when I saw that the Wish-Bone now came in a "light" version, I thought I'd give it a try.


People, that shit is gross.


Seriously, the main turn-off is that it was, well, shiny, and not in a good way. It looked like freakin' snails had crawled all over it and left snail-trails behind.

Not a good visual.

I mean, it's bad enough that thousand island dressing is orange, which is kind of odd to begin with, but add a slime coating and it's just gross.

And it tasted chemical-ly. I mean, I'm sure that any salad dressing has artificial ingredients in it, but this stuff tasted like it was straight out of the lab. It tasted really weird.


Add to that the snail-trail visuals, and no. Just no.


Now, you guys know how cheap I am. If I buy some new food that I don't like, I'll usually eat it up anyway, just to avoid throwing it away.


But after I ate a couple of bites of my Wish-Bone Light Thousand Island Dressing-covered salad the other night? I threw the rest of the almost-full bottle away.


'Cause that shit just ain't right.

Rocky

March 1992 - February 19, 2008.

I miss you, sweetie. And I love you.

Freaky Friday

Because everybody needs an antlered mermaid, that's why.

busywork

So, the other day I was at work, and it was kind of a slow day, and I'd really already done all the make-work and busywork I could think of, including cleaning the bathroom (grroooossssss), and it was two-thirty.


And I looked up at the clock and I thought, I have NO IDEA how I'm going to make it until four-thirty (quitting time). I have NO IDEA how I'm going to get from now until then.


Obviously, I survived, without actually DYING from BOREDOM or anything. But I got to wondering: It's not just me, right?


Do you guys ever have slow days at work? Days when you've gotten done with all your to-do stuff, and then did some extra filing and archiving and maybe even cleaned the bathroom (grrrrrossssss), and found yourself with nothing to do?


And how do you fill the time?


Just curious. Because this happens to me every once in a while, and I wanted to make sure that it wasn't just me.


Or maybe it is.


It isn't, is it?

Proof of my midlife crisis

I ordered a set of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill iron-on logo transfers from ebay.


It's like I'm seventeen all over again! ... except without all the sex and drugs and booze.


*sigh*

Oh, and I've started listening to NPR. Like, a LOT. Granted, sometimes I throw stuff at the radio (damn hippies!), but still, I never pictured myself as an NPR-type person.

I even listen to the opera broadcasts on Saturday afternoon now. Well, except for that god-awful "Nixon in China" mess they had on last weekend, which scared the cats.

Dang, I'm old.

I'm gonna get raked over the coals for this one

Thought and effort?! It takes more thought and effort for me to brush my f*cking TEETH than it would to pick up flowers at Walmart.

Seriously. I guess THIS is why I don't have a boyfriend. Because if you can't take an hour on f*cking VALENTINE'S day to go pick out something nice for the woman you supposedly LOVE, just go home. Just get the f*ck away from me.

ahahahahahahaha looks like we've hit a bit of a sore spot here, no?

Okay. If my theoretical boyfriend was at Walmart on an ordinary day, picking up motor oil and sparkplugs or something, and happened to see a bouquet of flowers at the checkout that he thought I'd enjoy, so he bought them and brought them to me, I'd be FINE with that. What a surprise! Flowers!

But! If, on Valentine's day, the best my theoretical boyfriend can do is drag his sorry ass to Walmart, HELL NO.

oh, and he'd better not EVEN give me that shit about how it's just a manufactured holiday made up by the card companies and you know I REALLY love you baby and

you just talked your way right out the door.

Shit. Give ME that shit about a manufactured holiday?*

Manufacture THIS, sweetie.

hoooooo boy I'm a'rollin' now.

You know what Walmart flowers on Valentine's day says to me? It says, "I don't really care. I don't care how you feel and I can't be bothered to take the damn time to FIND OUT what you really want, because you are just not that important to me. So take the damn flowers and be grateful already."

But I guess that's just me.

And I guess that's why I don't have a boyfriend.

Man oh man, this is better than THERAPY, you guys! Thanks! I'm working out my issues right here in front of you!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Who wants to date me? Come on, you KNOW you want to! Is fun! Ha.




*As far as THAT goes, ALL holidays are manufactured holidays, really. So don't EVEN go down THAT garden path, buddy boy.

Maybe I'm an elitist

So, I was in a Walmart checkout line yesterday afternoon, when I noticed that every other person in line was a guy with flowers and candy and a Valentine's day card.

And my first thought was, really? Walmart? You're not even trying, dudes.

And then I was all, well, look at you! You're shopping at Walmart, too, so what's the big deal?

The big deal is, I was not buying flowers and candy and a card for my damn LOVED ONE, is the big deal.

Honestly? If I was dating a guy, and he brought me Valentine's day flowers with a big ol' Walmart UPC sticker on the side of the wrapper?

I'd seriously have to re-evaluate the relationship.

Because to me, "Walmart" equals "cheap".

Yeah, yeah, I shop there too, but not for shit that matters. Not for shit that is supposed to mean something to someone else.

But! Maybe it's just me. What say ye: Flowers from Walmart for Valentines day: Yea or Nay?

Oh! And in other news, for Valentine's day my cats brought me a bright red cardinal, which they had dismembered from one end of the hallway to the other by the time I woke up this morning.

At least they put in an effort.

Like a hamster on a wheel

So! Nobody likes my shoes. Or my socks. Or my shoes-and-socks combo. Whatever.

So I had to run down to the bank this afternoon, and on my way there I drive through this small town that has those "Welcome to X-town" signs on the roads, and underneath the "Welcome to X-town", they've got the town motto, which is "A Caring Town Proud of Its Community", which, well ... um ... okay?

I mean, if I was going to go by those guidelines, MY motto would be something like "A Nice Person Who Is Kind to Small Children and Animals", when in reality, it would be more like, "A Crazy-Ass Middle-Aged Lady Who Doesn't Give a Shit What You Think." See: Shoes-and-socks combo.

And I'm on my way to the bank, and I'm listening to NPR, which is all full of Egypt, to whom I can only say, be careful what you wish for. And plus, those crazy Tunisians did it first, so Egypt is just, like, a copycat who can't even have an original thought, so whatever.

And also while I'm driving to the bank I'm thinking about an email I got from a family member with whom I am not in regular contact, and it was one of those, "Hi! How are you! Just wanted to see how you are" emails, which is fine, except:

a. She sent it to more than one relative, and couldn't even be bothered to BCC, just CC-ing instead, so we all know it was a form email, and

b. I shit you not, she was all, "It's cold here, and blahblahblah, and I wanted to see how you're d" - and it ended. She didn't even finish the "doing", just stopped typing after the "d", which makes me kind of wonder if she dropped dead mid-email, and I'm thinking I should probably, like, call her or something, but then again I don't really care, except if I'm not here for a few days you'll know I'm away attending a funeral.

And I'm driving to the bank and I'm thinking about my haircut appointment for tomorrow, which originally was scheduled for last Saturday, except the only appointment my hairdresser had last Saturday was for 9 a.m., which I accepted in a moment of insanity, and then I had to call her back, like, three minutes later, and explain that the odds of me being anyplace at 9 a.m. on Saturday morning except for asleep in bed were, like, miniscule, and so we had to reschedule for tomorrow. At 12:30. I'm pretty sure I can make it.

Oh! But still thinking about the hair, the last time I got my hair cut was in *cough* September, so my normally short hair is now long enough to do a combover of Trumpian proportions, which maybe I'll actually do for my trip to the hairdresser's tomorrow, just to get a laugh.

And, on my way to the bank, I'm wondering why my new glasses, which I picked up last night, smell so strongly of chemicals. I mean, I don't have an overly sensitive nose or anything, but man, these glasses reek. I wonder if that's why nobody at the eye place has a sense of humor; they've lost too many brain cells to the chemical glasses.

But! Putting on my new glasses was like in The Wizard of Oz when they go from black-and-white to color, which makes me think that maybe I should get my eyes examined more than every five years.

So! That's what I was thinking about on my way to the bank today. What's up in your neck of the woods?

Freaky Friday: My mommy dresses me funny

What can I say? My office is boring. I like to liven things up.



And no, that blue sparkly thing is not part of the outfit. It's a cat toy lying on the floor, is all. Although maybe I could tie it around my ankle ...

The beginning stages of ...

So, last night American Idol was on, but I wasn't really paying attention, until the background music came up while they were showing ... I don't know ... I think it was some dude who got the whole touching back-story treatment, except he blew the audition, and then the buck-up-buddy background music came on, and I was wracking my brain, because I knew the song, I just couldn't place it, and I'm all, like, "keep playing it! I'm gonna get it in just ... one ... more ..."

Polyphonic Spree! It was the Polyphonic Spree doing one of their funky here-comes-the-sun songs, and I was so relieved, because I KNEW I knew that song.

Anybody else do that? Or is it just me?

And whatever happened to the Polyphonic Spree, anyway? Were they really a cult, or did they just look like one, thanks to the robes?

And you're all going, "what the hell is she TALKING about, here?"

Sorry.

Oh! But in other news, that congresswoman-who-got-shot-in-the-head may be attending her husband's upcoming shuttle launch. Which ... yeah, there's a GREAT idea. One month get shot in the head, next month be there in person to watch your husband's spaceship explode in flames against a crystal blue Florida sky.

God, I'm morbid.

It's the weather.

Back on the chain gang

I was bound and determined that I was NOT going to shovel snow last night. Sure, we'd gotten a couple of inches the night before, but I managed to blast my way out of the driveway in the morning, and I am SO TIRED of flippin' shoveling that I was just going to leave that snow lie, especially since I'd spent MONDAY night trying to chop the layers of ice that remained from the previous several storms off the driveway in anticipation of this NEXT load of snow.



Maaaaaan, it made me tired just typing that up.



ANYhow, I headed home from work, and I made a couple of stops on the way, because after all I had plenty of time, since I was NOT going to shovel, and



my dear friend the plow man had deposited a fresh snow wall at the end of the driveway.



*&:(!*!*



You know, I KNOW the dude who plows my street. I mean, not PERSONALLY or anything, although I have met him once or twice through mutual friends, but I DO know who he is, and in moments like that, when I'm heading down my street and I find that ONCE AGAIN he has plowed in my driveway, I am full of all sorts of evil plans involving dump trucks full of snow and the end of HIS driveway.


Well.


I guess this winter is starting to get to me. You think?





Arrrgggghhhhhhhhh.


Oh! And in OTHER news, I went last Tuesday to the eye doctor for an exam since it had been *cough* several years since my last one, and you know what? NO ONE working in eye care has a sense of humor.


Seriously, I stopped going to my LAST eye doctor because she was such a downer, so imagine my dismay when I go to the NEW eye doctor, only to discover that not only was SHE lacking a good mood, so was everyone in her office.


What is it about eye doctors? Lighten up a little!


Oh! And THEN, here I am, being all good doo-bee and getting my eyes examined and ordering new glasses and contacts and here's a check for a kaBILLION dollars (sob), and then I find out that it's gonna take three to five days to get the contacts ordered. And longer than THAT to get the damn glasses.


It's kinda like when you decide that you'd like a fish tank*, and you get all excited and you go to the pet store and you pick out your tank and your rocks and your filter and your fish and at some point somebody asks you if you are aware that you've got to set up the tank FIRST and let it run for a few days before you can put the fish in it and you're all, like, but I wanted fish TODAY and

holy shit where was I?

About to murder the plow driver. And the eye doctor.

I've had better weeks.







*don't do it. Pain in the ass.

Dang, he's quick

In the time it took me to back the car out of the garage this morning, The Runt had gotten into my work bag, found my sandwich, taken it out of its baggie, and decided that - meh - he didn't really care for turkey.

I swear, if that cat had opposable thumbs, he'd rule the world right now.

I must have missed the memo

The headline in the newspaper this morning is, "Federal taxes hitting historic lows".

Which is kind of funny, because I got the new withholding charts from the Fed yesterday, and they're going to be taking seven bucks more out of my check every week.

The rich get richer ...

After much deliberation ...

... the first bumpersticker on the Kia will be "Jesus is coming. Look busy."



Yeah, yeah, I know, it's not that hot, but it's the best I've found lately.



Oh! And here's a question! I never actually put bumperstickers ON a car bumper, because I'm afraid they'll damage the paint. So I always just put them in the rear window. So! Do bumperstickers actually damage the paint, or do they peel off with no problem when you're sick of them? Just curious.



And! I'm still taking bumpersticker suggestions, if anybody's got anything good.

Freaky Friday - Botanical Edition

This is the time of the year when it's hard to imagine that it'll ever be warm out again. So I thought I'd do a botanical edition of Freaky Friday, showing unusual plants that grow here in my neck of the woods. All pics are by me, natch.





This is a turk's cap lily:

The first turk's cap I ever saw was out in the middle of the nowhere. I imagine that there used to be a house there, long ago, and all that remained were the lilies someone planted by their doorstep. Now I grow turk's caps at my own doorstep, in homage to the ones I saw growing in the woods. Awwwwww.

Here are some jack-in-the-pulpits:

I like the stripes. Jack-in-the-pulpits are very picky about where they'll grow. I'm out in the woods all the time, all over the place, and I only see them in a few areas.

In the fall, long after they're done blooming, jack-in-the-pulpits form fruit:

Too cool, no?

Here's a spooky plant called an Indian Pipe:

I'm not sure if these are technically a plant or a fungus, but they're very ethereal-looking, aren't they?

This is a bluebead lily:

Bluebead lilies are small, only about four inches high. The blooms really are that shade of green, but the fruit is blue, hence "bluebead".

Finally, let's look at some ladyslippers:

Like jack-in-the-pulpits, ladyslippers are very particular about where they put down roots, growing in only a few remote areas locally. And like jack-in-the-pulpits, they bloom in spring, and are all done showing off by the time summer rolls around.

So! Thus concludes the tour of freaky plants. Spring is coming! I sure hope so, anyway.

Recently Read

As usual, skip it if you wanna.

1. Winter's Bone by Daniel Woodrell - This was made into a movie which is now up for best picture. The book is about a young woman living in rural poverty and searching for her father, who has skipped bail. Good. I watched the movie this past weekend, and while I enjoyed it, I think it would've been a little hard to follow if you hadn't read the book first.

2. Bloodroot by Amy Greene - Novel about several generations of an Apalachian family. It was well-written and interesting, although I had a hard time keeping all of the characters straight.

3. When All The Men Were Gone by Ronald Capalaces - A local man's memories of growing up during World War II. Good!

4. The Angels of Morgan Hill by Donna VanLiere - I picked this up at the dollar store, and I really enjoyed it. It's about prejudice and coming of age in the post-WWII South. I will try very hard not to hold it against the author that she also penned the book that inspired that god-awful song, "The Christmas Shoes."

5. Lottery by Patricia Wood. When Better World Books was holding a sale last month, I ordered around twenty pounds of books for Christmas (for myself, natch), and this was the first one I read. It's about a mentally disabled man who wins the lottery, which was a really good premise. The book was funny, and sad, and a good read.

6. Portrait of a (boring-ass) Lady by Henry James. Jeezus CHRIST, I made it to page 266 and they were still. talking. So I went on line, grabbed a plot synopsis to find out what happens in the end (NOTHING), and tossed the book. Life's too short. Oh! And this one was supposed to be a "classic" book, which, let me tell you what, I have just about HAD it with the flippin' "classic" books. They're either boring as SHIT (Henry James, I am talking to YOU), or, in the case of books by Russian novelists, everybody has, like five different names, so you never know who anybody IS. Screw it.

7. Little Green by Loretta Stinson - Novel, set in the seventies, about a teenager in an abusive relationship. Very good.


So! That's it for now! Anybody read anything good lately?

Oh! And in other news, the sore throat I've had for the past few days has now morphed into a rotten nasty stinking headcold. Send tissues. And booze.

Oh hi!

Well, as it turns out, we didn't get as much snow this morning as they were calling for, although the snow we DID get was mixed with sleet, giving it the consistency of lead. Which made shoveling out the driveway LOTS of fun. Especially the end of the driveway, where the snowplows deliver their pass of street snow. A little gift from the highway department.

And I've noticed a funny thing lately: It seems that I get much more than my fair share of street snow. Lots more than any of my neighbors, at least. I'm beginning to wonder if it's because of that public statement I made regarding how the town f*cked up the park next to me by clear-cutting all the trees.

Nah. Town officials wouldn't be that petty, would they?

If you said "no, they wouldn't", you don't live here, and that's all I've got to say about THAT.

Moving on! Last night, after driving all damn day on shitty, snow-covered streets, even making it to an eye doctor's appointment* after work, and after bulling my way through the street snow at the end of my driveway ... the car got stuck. IN THE DRIVEWAY.


How does that even happen? It was pretty embarrassing, I'll tell you that. But! Having spent my entire life here in the frozen Northeast, I am pretty good at rocking a car out of a rut, and that's just what I did.

Poor little Kia. It's probably wishing it was bought by somebody in Miami right about now.


Oh! But there was a package waiting for me at home! BNG sent me a book that looks really interesting (Scorched Earth by David Robbins), and she even sent along a bonus book of cartoons, which, how cool is THAT? Thanks, BNG! I owe ya.


BNG found out she has to have surgery next week, so everybody send kind thoughts her way, please.



Finally, has anybody seen those new Jenny Craig ads featuring Carrie Fisher? Princess Leia is now shilling for Jenny Craig. *sigh*





*Cataracts?! Cataracts?!!! What the f*ck! I demand a recount. Or something.

Executive Decision

So far today we've only got about five inches of snow, which is just a "meh" amount, if it wasn't for the fact that the streets remain unplowed.

But! Tonight we are supposed to get another four to six, and tomorrow? Eight to twelve.

I'm taking the day off.

There was a time when I prided myself on getting into the office, no matter how bad the roads.

No more.

There's nothing to be done tomorrow that won't wait until Thursday. So I'll see everybody then. Allow me to leave you with a pic from the last time we got dumped on like this:

See you Thursday!

Things that are bugging me right now ...

We are getting a shit-ton of snow today. Therefore, they canceled school. Therefore, all the municipal snowplow drivers rolled over and went back to sleep. I drove FIFTEEN MILES to work this morning and did not see ONE SINGLE PLOW. The roads were horrifying, and they're getting worse. Evidently, the towns care about keeping the schoolbuses full of children safe, but the rest of us are on our own. Grrrrr.

Also bothering me right now:

The term "pre-owned". It's "used", dude. "USED".

Those bumper stickers that say "envision whirled peas." Not funny.

God-awful ring tones. I don't want to hear Beethoven's Fifth right now; can't you just make the damn thing RING? Although I did hear one that cracked me up a while back: a meowing cat. This gal was in Crapmart, and her cell kept going off, "meow! meow!", and every time it did, everyone in a thirty-foot radius would jerk their heads up, looking for the cat.

The long-ass articles in The New Yorker magazine. Honestly, I don't HAVE an hour to read an article about Asian carp! The only long-ass magazine article that I can remember really enjoying was an article in Vanity Fair several years ago about a bunch of kids who made a frame-by-frame remake of Raiders of the Lost Ark, with kid actors and filmmakers and everything. I would KILL to see that movie.

The song "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen. Oh, it's pretty and all that, especially when it's sung by anyone other than Leonard Cohen, but now that it's become the "go-to" song for people who want to appear soulful and/or deep*, I'm sick of it.

The fact that my mom can no longer handle the logistics of a knife and fork. Someone has to cut her meat for her. God, Alzheimer's is a bastard. It takes away one ... little ... thing ... at ... a ... time.

"My bad". My LORD, I hate that phrase. Don't talk baby talk. Please. Also? That particular phrase had its fifteen minutes of fame about five years ago. It's over, people.

Sarah Palin, but I guess that goes without saying. Actually, she frightens me more than bugs me.

People who get rightupclosebehindme in a store line. You can't go THROUGH me, honey, and breathing down my neck is NOT going to make the line move any faster. Trust me. And the next person who rides up on my heels with their shopping cart? Is going to get punched. I actually DID shove a cart back behind me once with my foot, without turning around. I felt kind of bad when I saw the cart-pusher was a little old lady, but not TOO bad. Back off, granny.

Calling someone an "old soul". Blrreeeeeccccch.

Okay. Your turn!

*See also: "Amazing Grace".