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Monday, August 30, 2004

Man, I actually wish we had cable for once. I would love to sit and watch the coverage of the protestors at the Republican convention. The media seems amazed at how "peaceful" they have been so far. I think they are just hopeful. Something's going down. I can't wait!

This weekend was my sister's bridal shower. Despite having been one of the "hosts" I found myself wishing I were eight again and stuck at the kiddie table instead of desperately trying to make conversation while appearing to be "all grown up."

I realized that my place was sitting next to my sister making wise cracks while keeping a log of the gifts she opened.

"Chocolate body frosting?!! Mom, cover your eyes!" I was hilarious for about twenty minutes. Then I assumed my place hiding in the kitchen pretending to check the status of brewing coffee or the kolache count. Or whatever else needed tending in there away from the chattering ladies.

Near the end I was talked into making the napkin bra I had decided against shortly after watching the guests arrive.

"No way am I making a bra out of a napkin in front of those people." But after the crowd thinned, I found myself performing the steps with about ten other women carefully following along. When they had finished and were holding their newly made "bras" in front of them, there was some laughter but nothing could hide their look of bemusement and I immediately wished I were back at home under the bed.

Only one more shower to go...



Friday, August 27, 2004

<3

This does not remotely resemble a heart to me which would explain why it has taken me, literally, months to uncover its meaning without resorting to asking some internet punk-ass and risking appearing really old. And dorky. And un-hip.

But this, I like.


(¯`v´¯)
`*.¸.*´
¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•.




Thursday, August 26, 2004

We called last week to have our front door fixed. It won't open unless you go around to the other side and put your shoulder into it.

It's still not fixed, and today I returned home to find a little old man with a handful of keys trying to unlock the downstairs apartment. After helping him in, he informed me that he was here to check the foundation.

Oh shit. I can't imagine how they would fix that without us LEAVING.

My girlfriend ran through two possible scenarios of what could be done and the second definitely sounded like it involved us leaving.

So anyway, I had a weird email exchange today on friendster.


Me: Hi. Skateboarding is not a crime unless something gets broken.

Freak: LIKE OMG!

Me: Are you really excited or just being a smart ass?

Freak: LOL!

Me: Still can't tell...

Her: You want my mams in your mouth don't you?

Me: Huh? I was just being friendly and responding to your "Skateboarding is a crime" quote. Don't go all homophob--Wait, is a mam like a yam?




Monday, August 23, 2004

Today there is an ozone warning. I should bring out my hat(?) Coat? No.
My uh...my...Hmmm. My, let's see...radiation suit?

Has anyone else ever been driving next to an eighteen-wheeler when one of those eighteen wheels blew out? I nearly peed my pants!


Friday, August 20, 2004

How to Shake a Tailgater
by el cheapo (Do not attempt this on the freeway.)

I know the most irritating tailgating happens on the freeway, but this is strictly for the streets.

What To Do:

Say you notice the car behind you following at an uncomfortable distance. At the next stoplight, open your door and spit a nice big wad on the pavement. Then shut your door like nothing happened. This says to the offending driver that you are a spitter and that if he doesn't back off by the next stoplight, you will spit on him!

I did this today and the car behind me eased back about five car-lengths. He wasn't even tailgating me, but I really had to spit. My allergy spray was running down the back of my throat and tasted gross.

I figure this is how lots of things get discovered.






Every so often, my girlfriend re-kindles my interest in shooting hoops. I never played ball in school and am considerably shorter than the average professional basketball playing female, but it's fun. What's more fun is finding an open court at an elementary school. One that is home to a normal size goal and also to a shorter goal. The latter one making it possible for me to dunk. (Yesss!!) Except I kept hitting myself in the head with the ball once it passed through the net. I pointed out to my girlfriend that this would indeed be our only chance to feel the rim in our hands. Unfortunately, she is even too short for the kiddie goal. Er, I mean, dunking is not lady-like. Now I need to learn to how to dribble without looking at the ball so that I can concentrate on my form. (Of not hitting myself in the head with the ball once it passes through the hoop.) Actually, there is a basketball goal on the side of our apartment building. I could go shoot some hoops right now if I wanted. Provided the ball doesn't ricochet off the backboard onto the neighbor's car. If I broke a window we would pay for it. Just like we paid up the time I kicked a hole in their bedroom window.



Tuesday, August 17, 2004

A More Refreshing Bush



At first listen, the song "Wuthering Heights" by Kate Bush actually made me wince and then reach for whatever thing would make it stop playing. But then a funny thing happened.

So begins our little experiment. Download the song from wherever you can find it, then listen to it a total of no less than three times. By the third listen, despite her ear-piercing voice, you may find yourself playing piano on your computer desk while swaying a little and trying to match her chihuahua pitch. Almost.

If you try it, be sure and leave a comment on the results. Don’t be shy.

I've been indulging in the newest craze of mp3 blogs. People discuss their favorite songs and link them. Usually one or two songs per band. These people are convinced they are actually doing the bands a favor and even have nice little notices in the columns explaining how they will kindly remove particular tracks if anyone objects. So far, the record companies aren’t bothering them. Anyway, these "reviews" are littered with adjectives. The very thing that I pride myself in not abusing. But I guess you have to do your best to let people "hear" the music before they actually download it. Whatever weird metaphor you make in the process is your business.

I just mention stuff here and let you go find it if you're truly interested. I won't be so self-righteous as to link it. And there's always laziness. And no web space.

Oh by the way, if you like the Kate Bush song at all, download “Hounds of Love”. It’s actually better. (It’s in the trees! It’s coming! Aaaaah!!!) I can’t be accountable for whatever else you get a hold of. My luck ran out after those two songs.

Oh wait, there’s “Running Up that Hill” too. By some people’s standards I’m some huge fan now.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

This band, Death from Above, this song in particular, "Do it!"

makes me want to do a running sideways flip into a pool, fully clothed. Or light something on fire. Or maybe just light the hem of one pant leg on fire and then do a running sideways flip into a pool, fully clothed. And then get out and do the robot to that one part. And then immediately after that, during the song’s climax, I want to hurl any pool-side furniture in along with any people who happen to be near. Then do another sideways flip, except I won't be able to re-light the one pant leg since it would be soaking wet. Anyway,

Look Out Everybody!

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

I had a ton of things lined up for Sunday's post. I had scribbled notes all day Saturday. But right now, I just don't feel well enough to string these thoughts and occurrences together in some cute little story.

You see, when I arrived Friday morning at around 7:00am to relieve my mother of her baby-sitting duties, I found her sitting on the bed holding a somewhat cranky baby that was having trouble sleeping. Baby's don't understand that when they have a nose full of boogers and snot and can't breath, binkies should be left out of their mouths.

So, I knew she had "the sniffles", or a cold, or some type of upper-respiratory infection type thing. Yet I laughed at the tiny booger-nose and chose to repeatedly kiss her fat, red cheeks. Over and over again, until I awoke Sunday to my own nose full of snot and boogers and an overall feeling of blah. All you really need to know about Sunday and Monday are three things.

1. My Father is the proud new owner of a puppy.

2. My girlfriend is the most beautiful, wonderful, and understanding girlfriend in the world.
I'm sorry if you thought yours was, this is just not true. I am sure she is a close second.

3. I am sick and I ache so bad I want to kick someone.

Saturday, August 07, 2004

Baby-sitting Diary or,
There comes a time in every baby's
life when she is left at home
while the rest of the family has the time of
their lives at Sea World.


Quote for the Day: "When it comes to baby, there is a fine line between laughing and crying." - el cheapo

Day One: (Friday)

10:00am - Fed baby one 8oz. bottle of formula, bowl of rice cereal, and one-half container of "bananas".

12:00pm - Second bottle and nap-time.

Somewhere in between, exploding poopy diaper necessitates bath.

3:30pm(ish) - Another bottle full of yummy formula goodness.

Did I mention my Dad is here too? He is here to uh,...I don't know. Maybe to cut down on the phone calls from my Mother.
So far, he has watched TV, read the paper, walked around outside doing some unknown yet very important things, made a trip back home to retrieve his medication, teased the baby, made sure all of the bedroom doors are securely shut, and fed the dogs. Despite all this, he seems bored.

6:30pm - Repeat steps from 10:00 am feeding.

8:00pm - Final bottle. (Whew!)

Insert anywhere repeated phone calls from loving and guilt-stricken parents in between having the time of their lives with the other two children at Sea World.

8:15pm - Bath number two to help baby "unwind".

8:30pm - Bedtime.

I am learning quickly. I've arranged two pallets in two different areas. One in the living room, the other in the den so that she may sit and play according to which room I am in. It takes her only minutes to acclimate herself to the pallet swap.

So far this morning, my Father emerged from his sleeping quarters around 11:30 cursing the dogs for waking him at 8:00 am with loud barking, and is now sitting on the sofa watching Dirty Dancing and drinking his cofee.

Time will only tell what adventures we will find ourselves in today!



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