Sci-Fi Immersion...

Khrysten is unavailable for blogging purposes right now as she is currently involved in a program to immerse her self in everything Sci-fi... No, seriously. I know, I haven't blogged in...days. I've been a busy girl.

I watched 'Earth 2'. Done with that now. It's a pretty good show for all 21 episodes there were of it. I suggest the purchase of the DVDs...but if you do, know that the last two episodes in the set don't actually belong at the end. Kinda screwed with me for a minute, but then I figured out where in the story they actually did belong and everything was better.

Then I watched the first two seasons of Battlestar Galactica on DVD having been unable to watch the show on TV like a normal person due to dogs barking and hubby yapping in my ear. Awesome show (duh!). Love that Starbuck! There was also a lot of screaming at the TV in hopes that she and Apollo would just fuck and get it over with already...never happened. Also, having watched seasons 1 & 2, I am now kinda screwed since I'm up to season 3 but it just ended and re-runs are nowhere to be found on the Sci-Fi channel. How long am I gonna have to wait for the DVDs?

Watching it for the second time to catch all the stuff I missed the first time due to dogs barking, hubby yapping and college dropouts having impromptu keggers. Also working overtime (meaning my brain wont stop) on the Sci-Fi show BEG and I are working on.

Anyone know where I can get a good deal on the 'Babylon 5'? Watched parts of it back in the day (there was a boy involved) and liked what I saw from what I actually saw (there was a lot of groping and mauling going on). Would like to see the rest! Could get it at my Best Buy, but they never seem to have season 4 and when I ask them why, they just look me (a 26 year old girl in the Best Buy freaking out about 'Babylon 5' season 4 around eleven on a Tuesday morning) like I'm on something.

Drop me a comment if you have an idea or a suggestion on another Sci-Fi show I may enjoy. BEG is already trying to sell me on 'Farscape' and she probably will.

BTW: Here's what I've already watched and in the order they were watched...Firefly/Serenity, Space: Above & Beyond, Cleopatra 2525 (whatta hilarious disaster this was especially for Gina Torres. I would only suggest watching this if you have no other alternative in the Sci-Fi-verse and if you like to laugh hysterically), Earth 2, Battlestar Galactica Seasons 1 & 2

And since I should mention this now that I'm editing, very nearly the complete 'Babylon 5' (I'm missing the spin-off 'Crusade' but it will be ordered by the time I get to where it should be watched in the grand scheme of B5. Hell, who doesn't love Daniel Dae Kim?) arrived on my doorstep yesterday making me a very happy girl with a lot of TV time ahead of me!

Where'd They Go?

(Men, you might want to duck and cover...I'm whining about my boobs disappearing!)

I was used to being the totally fit girl who weighed 148 pounds. I had big boobs and am 5'6.5" so weighing that much was never really a problem. I was happy...with my big boobs and no one ever guessed that I weighed that much anyway. It wasn't like I was fat. I eat healthy, for the most part (let's face it, we all need some junk food every now and then). And I was perfectly content. I'm not one of those women that goes around whining about gaining a pound or two. It's not worth it when you think of everything else in life. Thanks yoga.

Then came the start of the surprise weight loss around November of last year. The pounds just started dropping off and by New Year's for no understandable reason...other than I never sleep and run around like a chicken with my head cut off during all the hours that I am awake, I was down to 127 pounds...and the boobs started to disappear. Men, please know that the first noticable place a woman loses weight is in her chest and it's a cruel joke when it happens, especially if you're one of the rare young women like me that has gotten perfectly content with the way they look! Fuck you, yoga!

So, all yoga activity was suspended and I haven't even touched the new yoga mat hubby bought me for Christmas. For the last three months or so, I have also been eating everything that isn't nailed down in the hopes of gaining some weight back...or at least my boobs. I wieghed myself this morning and I have not gained back one single pound. In fact, I probably have dropped a couple more since currently I am currently bloated, surfing the crimson wave. The boobs seemed a little bigger a couple days ago, but the wave is probably to blame for that as well.

All I want is my boobs back, really. Bra shopping is a pain in the ass...especially when one's chest is now down to a high A-cup from a high C-cup (this was big for a girl of my build...it was sort of a Love Hewitt, is she gonna fall over from the weight of her boobs kind of thing). If this keeps going they're likely to go inverted...and wouldn't that be a sight? I am totally lost without them and at this point probably really don't even need to wear a bra...but I was raised by a mother who was all 'never leave home without it' because it's in poor taste.

Seriously, it's disturbing and I have a lot of fine lingerie that will never be worn again if this shit continues. Lack of boobs is making me bitchy and evil, even though most people are tellin' me I look fine and shouldn't worry about it. Some even say it's cause I'm getting older. WTF?

I come from a long line of large breasted women and a lot of them are finely framed like me. And all of a sudden I'm like an outcast. Everyone else got to keep their boobs until the day they died with the exception of one great aunt who had breast cancer...but even she has fake replacements now that are just as big, if not bigger, as her real boobs were.

Arrgh! Miss Maddy's mommy keeps offering the fake ones she had for Halloween...not that she even remotely needed them then and not the she will ever need them again (having babies, whether they live or not is sort of her thing now). I don't want fake tits! I want my real ones back for the love of Joe Pesci!

BTW: I have started up my 10th & Park blog, which can be found on the top of the link list to the right and although it's not very pretty currently (KP will be workin' on the template and is working on the template for this blog), there are like four post now and no readers so far as I know, so check it out please if you have the time. It's all about the shit that goes on in my neighborhood...and most recently Shortleash kicked my dog!

'Angus Bathoon is a Fat Kid!'

And is there a place where I can get colored contact lenses for my dog?

So, for yesterday and the Saturday before the dogs (one per appointment) have gone to the vet for their annual check-up and shots. Jezebelle was the last dog we had to the vet before these appointments and that was in the summer when she broke her toe jumping like a maniac hopped up on angel dust from the couch to the ottoman to keep Angus from getting her rawhide. The vet doesn't like me. He actually told me that I ask too many questions. Sorry, I need answers. I can't be plagued with wonder about why the stuff for Angus' ear smelled and looked like and came in the same kind of tube except one was longer like the stuff he had for his eye and why if they were the same did I have to buy both? If you don't tell me, I will sit and ask myself these sorts of questions and go insane! Anyway, I had started to fret a couple days before because I knew that Jezebelle did not react well to leaving the house and driving in the car the last couple times I have been in the car with her and hubby was always there with me. I had never taken her in the car all by myself. Hubby said he would go also. She was seriously well behaved and didn't pee on or vomit up anything. She sat still looking out the window and was my perfect, little angel. She also behaved for the vet...until he tried to clip her nails, but still she received nothing but praise for her health and behavior. Woo-hoo! I thought it would be smooth sailing from here. Angus' appointment was yesterday. I set the alarm for seven am and went to sleep only two wake up around two am having to pee so badly I thought I was gonna explode...not that you really needed to know that. So I hit the bathroom and headed back to bed only to have the godforsaken owl that lives in my barn hoo-hoo me to near insanity. I literally put the pillow over my face and not to drown out the noise but to suffocate myself so I'd never have to hear it again! Finally, I fell back to sleep. But at precisely five am, hubby's cell alarm starting going off, waking me again. I tried to ignore it for about fifteen minutes but that really didn't work so, I got up and tried to turn it off. This not only had me leaving the comfort of the warm, comfy bed when I had barely slept at all but also the bedroom where the temperature is livable...let's just say I'm never gonna get hypothermia in the bedroom! Because hubby has one of those ridiculous TREO 650 phones I cannot figure it out. I'm a girl. It's too complex for something that isn't so necessary. Basically trying to operate the thing just hurts my head and I say things like, "Why do you need that?" a lot. I do know how to make the alarm snooze though, even if it does only do it for like ten or fifteen minutes. I head back to bed, hoping for crash for a little bit longer, or at the very least, regain the feeling in my toes (Are they supposed to be blue?). The cats had already noticed I had gotten up and had left the room. They had also noticed that it was light outside. Arrgh! Have you ever tried to share a full size bed with another person who sleeps like a crash victim and three cats, one of which, weighs 48 pounds, keeping in mind that all three cats want to be fed right friggin' now? It's brutal...and a lot of the time one of them ends up tossing me on to the floor. We're getting a new bed though...just as soon as we can figure out which the largest is we can get up the back stairs. Anyway, the alarm was going off again and so on and so forth so I crawled out of bed and into the day (sort of like 'Samara' from The Ring...except my hair is much, much shorter. I washed got dressed and washed my hair, let the dogs out, fed the cats, bitched at hubby 'cause he has so many pairs of shoes and they all seem to live in the kitchen. You know, the usual. We got Jezebelle into her crate because she knew we were only taking Angus in the car and she had to stay home. She was going nuts but we got Angus outside and into hubby's truck. Of course, he had to sit on the front seat with us, but he was mostly well behaved...if you don't count the puddle he drooled on leg of my jeans. We get him to the vet where he as a clearly large dog is weighed and is found to be 105 pounds. Not surprising. I actually thought he weighed more. Huh. The vet, while handing the dog treats like they're candy (hmm...nevermind) tells me my dog is fat and should weigh 20 pounds less than he does. I could not imagine my dog weighing only 85 pounds. In general he is a big fuckin' dog. So my dog is a fat-ass according to the vet and is supposed to lose some weight by his next appointment for Lymes booster shots on April 15th. I am actually so surprised the man didn't try to sell me diet dog food. He's such demon! This prompts hubby to start saying things to the dog like, "Angus Bathoon is a fat kid!" which is who he was named for as they told me when I got him as a puppy he was going to eventually be a very big dog and now the statement is actually true. There was some laughter, but I squashed it. Don't want to give the fat kid a complex. We left the vet and headed for the bank drive-thru, which should really be called the drive-thru puppy cookie store. Angus only tried to eat the teller once and she still gave him three cookies. We were like, "Maybe this isn't so good for the fat kid." Angus really didn't have any interest in the cookies though. I don't think he was barking at her, ordering her to give him cookies. I think it was just because he really wanted to eat her. He's a little feisty. We get home. He was mello-pup for the rest of the day yesterday...really didn't even want anything to do with peanut butter or Tyra Banks. Strange, I know, and I assume it's from the shots. Last night, while hubby was off doing some work, I was watching this story on Animal Planet about how a lot of Dalmations aren't marketable because their eyes aren't blue. I looked at Jezebelle who is Dalmation-Pointer and she has brown eyes. I wonder if this is why she was at the shelter and was deemed to have behavioral issues (hyper-activity and general craziness...she also posses the ability to jump five feet in the air without a moments notice and for no apparently good reason). I started to wonder if she would like contact lenses and then if and where there was a place that made contact lenses for dogs like a place that caters to Hollywood pooches. Then I wondered if you could even get a dog to wear contact lenses. It was all too much! Today, I got up late (nine-thirty am) and then hubby wanted to take both dogs to the dog park. I usually protest because it's just a filthy fucking disaster and then they come home muddy and smelly and I have to give them baths...and Belle fucking hates that. I decided that if I said no one more time, especially now that they had gotten all their shots again, hubby would divorce me. Si we loaded into the truck and headed to the dog park, which is a gigantic chunk of land that was donated by someone and is surrounded by water on three sides. The dogs love it. Angus was running too fast and took a dive, sliding about three feet on his face. He got right up though and headed back to play with the other dogs. Jezebelle loves to run and she loves to sniff things so you can imagine she was losing her mind. They played for about an hour, making lots of short-term friends and then we lost Jezebelle. Hubby and Angus went off to find her and didn't return for twenty minutes, in which time I was sniffed repeatedly by a Rotweiler that apparently had no owner and another man came out of the woods with a dog, a man I had talked to earlier, asking me if I was looking for a dog. I told him my husband had gone to look for her. This man then told me my husband had found the little black and white dog but had now lost the golden. How does a grown man go into the wood with one dog seeking another and come out with another, the one sought? Finally the dogs were wrangled up and put back in the car as the muddy, disgusting messes I expected them to be. We stopped at McDonald's on the way home, hubby strangely thinking the dogs were mellow enough to be able to go through the drive-thru. This was not true. Both dogs, who were in a comatose staight in the backseat of the truck until then, rose barking and tried to eat the drive-thru speaker box. I think they though there was a woman inside. When we got home, I of course got the pleasure of giving the dogs baths because hubby gets frustrated easily, espcially when he has no idea what he's doing. Belle's bath went surprisingly well. She didn't escape the tub once and she didn't really even fight. Angus on the other hand was so worn from the weekend's activities thus far I had to lift him into the tub. He, of course, was covered in thick smelly mud and protested the entire time. Both dogs have been rather comatose this afternoon so I thought it would be a great time to try to get them accustomed to the cats again. Lately, we've been working with Boo who is so laid back it's not even funny. It didn't go well. Docile puppies turned into crazed lunatic puppies and Belle kept trying to bite Boo's ear. Arrgh! What a long weekend! And now I'm off to watch 'The Sopranos'.

Does That Chinese Man Even Play the Tuba?

And Not Getting Touched By The Hand of God...

Omigod! I am so sick and friggin' tired of commercials for car dealerships on the TV. I just saw one that was "Are you looking for a new car?" asked by voice-over while a montage of used cars is played only to have the commercial end with my finding out finally that this car dealership is literally so far away from where I live I couldn't even get a bus there (I assume this is the mode of transportation of people who don't already have cars out to dealerships to look at them) and then start the whole ad all over again. This gets better. This commercial also involves a Chinese guy holding a tuba and trying to sell used cars. Oh, and you can't understand a word he's saying! I am yet again having a session of angry letter writer with myself, and it would go a little somethin' like this...

Dear TV Ad Guys @ VH1,

I am writing mostly in regards to the commercial that is reapeatedly played involving a crazy, Chinese man trying to sell me cars from 250 miles away from my house. Have you seen this commercial yourselves? Disturbing to say the very least. Does he even play that tuba? He doesn't play it in the commercial. He just holds it. What the hell is it for? But this is not the only reason I write. I am sitting here in my living room trying to enjoy VH1's 'Storytellers: Bruce Springsteen'. Yes, I know this might make me lame, but I don't care. I enjoy his music and he is rather witty. Also, I like that he's so turning into Bob Dylan. I have thus far enjoyed the parts of the show I have actually gotten to see. But there's a big fat problem. Every ten seconds there's an ad on and you're askin' me if I'm shoppin' for a new car and I tell you no, I am trying to get all the springsteeny goodness I can right now. There are no cars in my living room and although the TV is large enough that the cars are very nearly life-sized, please remember I am inside watching The Boss by choice and not out shopping for a car! And when you play a commercial for a car dealership nowhere near to where I live, it irritates me even more! This literally is the fifth time I have tried to watch this entire show and every time this same thing happens. You start socking me with this wack-o-loon Asian and I end up changing the channel (By the way the way this also happens when I'm trying to watch 'DMC: My Adoption Journey' and I still have yet to see that show in it's entirety). Do you think The Boss is gonna sell some cars...used ones? I struggle to understand why you would do this. Playing the same commercial over and over and over again is not making me want to buy a used car. It really only makes me angrier and I'm not so pretty when I'm snarling! I love Springsteen. The man is beautiful but in a really rugged, dirty way. I'm a chick, on a Saturday afternoon. I am your target. Where are the Hagen Daaz People? Where are my promises for a great new season of 'The Surreal Life' in which Alexis Arquette is turning into a woman (sorry. I thought she already was)? Why aren't you trying to sell me the KT Tungstel CD (It's been hours since I heard 'Big Black Horse...')? I tell you, someone try to sell me a tampon or two (or maybe some footage of Hulk Hogan trying to buy some) or I'll go insane. I can't take aanother 15 second bit with a strange Chinese man with a tuba trying to sell me a Datsun from 250 miles to the north, where I suspect they are having a snowstorm right about now. You could have, at the very least, gotten an actor, a Chinese one even, to play the part of the dealership owner. I can't understand a word the real owner says, but he seems awefully damned happy. This. Also not good. It makes him seem a little bit shady. No one wants to by a car from a guy who could be a serial killer psycho or child molester. Can't pack the kiddies up and go 250 miles to buy a used mini-van when one of the kids could get 'touched' and not by the hand of God. So, please, no more! Play these ads in the early morning when no one is watching TV and the few that are have started their day (these would be people with actual jobs who could afford said used cars, no problem). They may even be thinking about buying a new car and even if they're 250 miles away, it could still give them some sort of idea about the kind of car they want to get. And you could feel proud of yourself for still trying to help.

BTW - Candy Lovers: Further Candy research has proven the Milky Way Bar by M&M-Mars to be not only a tasty candy, but also much, much easier to get into than the Kit-Kat. I have eaten several Milky Ways in the last couple of days and I have enjoyed all of them in a timely fashion.

Stop Mocking Me HB!

A candy catastrophe already in progress...

Why is it so friggin' hard to get into a Kit Kat these days. Well, first off they changed the wrapping from the old, foil with paper around it way, which was already tolerable and really didn't need to be changed (tree-huggers, sorry, but I would trade some trees for candy. I like candy), to this very shiny plastic crap that it is damned near impossible to tear. It actually stretches when you pull on it. You have to get a blow torch and a ski mask just to get into the thing and by then you've already wrecked the candy and you're probably standing in a room that wreaks of burnt chocolate...and that's just not a good smell. Really, this new wrapping is not helping me get to the candy in a timely fashion and sometimes a girl just needs a crispy wafer in milk chocolate to go with her daily viewing of 'Beverly Hills 90210' on Soapnet. I love that I have this channel and also that they play this show. It's a sickness I think. Can't help but love the dramatically quick twists and turns of the modern day, soap opera...the shows seem like they're Madlibs for romatics. Hilarious! It's like, "Jenny was in a skyscraper when suddenly there was a goat at the door and a glue bottle was stealing her cousin Tony's baby from Harlem". I cannot believe it! This Kit Kat is still not open! Someone get me a chainsaw and a lobster trap. In the time it's taken me to open this, I could have eaten the actual cat...Boo even, and he weighs fifty pound (BTW: I love the picture to the upper left). Finally, with the help of the kitchen scissors I have gotten into the candy...and it ain't so pretty. I'll still eat them though. That was what this was all about wasn't it...getting the candy. Mmm, Kit Kat! I swear I am totally going to write a strongly-worded letter to H.B. Reese Candy Co. in regards to my disappointment with their choices in candy peddling...the first rule pf which is, or at least should be...MAKE IT EASY & FAST TO GET INTO (no one gains the kind of happiness candy brings by just hanging out with it and knowing they have it)! It'll be something to the effect of...

Dear H.B. Reese Candy Co.,
I am writing in regards to the really harsh shit you've done to the wrappers of your very tasty candies. You have now made it nearly impossible to enjoy the crisp, chocolatey goodness of a Kit Kat. The crappy new wrapping, which I think is some form of new government plastic that cannot be breached even if it was wrapped in explosives and I handed the trigger over to someone with a twitch (that would be entertaining though.) is not something you can just tear into easily. I don't like the idea of having to wage war against candy. Also, I don't necessarily enjoy the idea of befriending and going to war with a guy with a twitch. I understand that the old way with the foil and paper was also not something that could just be torn into, but at least that was just two flaps, one with a just a little dab of glue, and with the shawdy quality of the glue you've been using the last couple years, there was no challenge at all. In the time it took me to get to the candy, most of which was spent snarling and cursing at the candy and heartily tugging on the wrapper, often in the spot you suggest, I also had to take a trip to the kitchen to get the scissors to enjoy candy that I had sitting right in front of me. Candy people, I shouldn't have to get up from my desk and walk across the house the long way just to have crisp wafers in milk chocolate when they're already on my desk. And to top it all off and basically kick the dirt of candy deprivation in my face just one more time, you have actually printed on the wrapper a series of white arrows with the phrase, 'Tear Here'. Your mocking me H.B. and I really don't like it. Also, could you please stop coating things in white chocolate. They don't sell well. A lot of people only say they like white chocolate, for appearances I guess. Keep coating your famous canides in white chocolate and eventually, it will bankrupt you (financially. I imagine the morals of your company have been gone for quite a long while now). And where will we get out candy goodness from then? Shady dealers in dark alleys? $50.00 for a bar? You don't want to be responsible for creating the next CRACK do you? I didn't think so.

Isn't It Ironic?

[No actual Alanis is required for this post...thankfully!]

So, I was all pepped up for some more ghost-hunting, especially since the whole 'Ring' thing (see Light Distortion, a couple posts ago). I busted out the camera to take some new pictures about the house just to see if anything suspicious showed up, ready to write a new post, a sequel to the last ghost-hunting post. I start snapping pics around the living room and low and behold...

THE GODFORSAKEN CAMERA BROKE!

It started making all sorts of noise, and I looked at the pic and the screen was all locked up. Then it started beeping and turned itself off. I was like 'Oh great! The ghosts have killed the camera!'

I poked at it for a while, trying to get it turn back on. Also there were some choice words said about the people at Olympus, although I know the camera is like 3 years old and could probably be replaced, but I haven't found one I like yet and am toying with the notion of getting a video cam or at least on that does both video and stills (current cam only does 7 minutes of video with no sound). Also, very few days go by when I don't use the camera for something.

So, I popped the batteries and put them back, trying to turn it on again. I got the same beping and the same turning itself off again. Popped the batteries and tried a few more times. This didn't really help, except for around the fourth time, the screen said CARD ERROR, but all flashy-like.

I pulled the card, and put it back. Ooh, this seemed to change things. The camera even let me take a picture...And then it started beeping again and turned itself off!

It was basically decided that the card was fried. Couldn't even read from it (Goodbye 168 pictures still on that card). Ironic, once again, that I was hunting for ghosts when this happened.

You know what though? If there are ghosts, they are too old to know anything about Office Depot, Best Buy, Circuit City, etc. And as a girl who cannot apparently be without the digital camera, I ran out and bought a new card yesterday.

Digi-cam is all better and works like a dream again. Clearly I win this round! 'CASPER' can bite me!

Little Old Men In Big Boat Cars...

The Story That Came Along With The Haircut...

So, now that we've all taken the time to ooh and ahh at the new shortage of hair on my head and the fact that it's now bright red, I thought I'd tell the story that came along with beginning of the adventure for a clip, perhaps it was the adventure...or perhaps PURGATORY has now installed a probation officer type service (Like maybe I died somewhere along the way here and don't remember, should be in hell, but it was all full up, so they let me out and every once and a while I have an appointment with PURGATORY, a day of just such immense bullshit to remind me that I'm an asshole, a Purgatory parole officer if you will...there I go, writing my own religion...DO NOT FOLLOW ME!)

Anyway, I get up yesterday morning pretty friggin' early so far as my wake-up habits go and all creeped out because the first thing that popped into my hazy head was that I was going to get my hair cut very short and it was quite long. I had a teeny-tiny panic attack moment and then finally got out of the bed to face my fears.

I let the dogs out and let them run around for like an hour then stashed them back in the house just as Daniel Powter's 'Bad Day' started on VH1. I lit a cigarette and said, "Shit, today might actually go well. Unfortunately, VH1 was having some issues with their A/V and only half the video played. Then there were some screeching noises and the screen went black with a old-style horror movie buzz, like it was mocking me and saying, "You have just entered the twilight zone filled." After checking to make sure it wasn't the TV and seeing that VH1 still didn't work, I turned it back off and headed for my coat. I should have known then that dark clouds were about to roll in.

Also, it was Wednesday morning so the world outside was sure to be overrun by old people (Sorry old people, but you drive badly and always seem to be in the way, not that I am impolite to you in any way) barely doing the speed limit, driving some of the most gigantic cars I've ever seen in my life! Where do you keep getting these cars? So in other words, the crash of the VH1 and Daniel Powter's 'Bad Day' was really telling me...You have just entered the twilight zone and it's chock full of folks in their twilight years.

There are two easy ways to get to the general shopping areas in this city, but from my house both require starting out on the same road. This road is quite narrow. There are two lanes, but they allow street parking which definitely impedes the usage of the second driving lane, so everyone just generally drives in the one. Herein lies the trouble...

I get stuck behind a boat car driven by an old man who maybe doing 22 MPH in a 35 MPH zone and he was in fact taking up both lanes, making it impossible to get around him. This is a busy area so I and the people behind me couldn't even take the chance of passing in the on-coming lane. Sorry, no one here wants to die via head-on collision with a city bus.

There was a lot of horn usage (this is what it's for) from both myself and the people behind me. This didn't seem to get us anywhere except for the fact that every time someone laid on the horn, the old guy slowed down and made matters worse.

Finally, I see Taylor Avenue which cuts across to the road the shopping is on, and I see that old guy doesn't have on his left or his right (as old folks go, it really could be either one) directional. I thought this was my chance to get out of the driving thru hell cycle. Not so much!

Old man in his boat car with just as elderly female passenger, veers back in front of me without any directional into the left turn lane. He then proceeds to slam on the brakes to avoid death by on-coming city bus. I nearly rear-ended the psycho old-fuck because not only was he driving like a douchebag, it was also raining and screwing up the road in general.

I ended up having to follow this crusty old fart all the way to the friggin' Walmart, where he had plenty of trouble making the left turn into the parking lot, so much so that myself and five others cut across in front of a speeding semi just to make some progress.

I had learned my lesson at this point. No more following. I actually went to the opposite side of the parking lot, to park and go in through the door opposite the old folks, hoping to never see them again. But not even bucking the system (I usually park on the other side and go in the other door) didn't stop the maddness!

I get in the Walmart and mosey over to Costcutters (yes, I got my hair cut at Costcutters. There was a reason for this, but I don't have the time to explain now) and talk to the chick when low and behold, asshole old couple from the boat car of doom walk in at a snail's pace. Apparently they had appointments. And now things get worse...

Old fuck decides that he is going to yell at me at the top of his lungs in the Walmart/Costcutters. What was he yelling and making a hellacious scene about you may ask...My driving skillz and ability! Had he been anyone else, I would have let loose the hellfire. I have a bad temper and little or no patience.

I kept my mouth shut though, especially about his making a mockery of the road. Don't argue with old people. I know better, even if they don't have a clue in the friggin' world! Finally he shut up and I thought, very foolishly, we were done and the day could just go on as though none of it had happened.

Now, the Costcutters in the Walmart is small, like the size of the bathroom. They have all of three chairs. There was already one old lady in there reading a magazine and monopolyzing two of the three chairs. I sat down on the third. Old fuck then marches over and declares that I need to get up so his wife has a place to sit. I refused.

You may think this evil of me seeing as how I was raised better and she was quite an old lady. And I would have, if I had been treated slightly better, given her the seat. At that point though, it was pretty much to hell with the way I had been reared with goodness and I declared she could stand until she fell over from exhaustion...or death!

So, I got my haircut, obviously. Then I grabbed the other shit I needed. On my way back to the check-outs, this additional old woman in one of those super high-tech, high-seated joystick controlled wheelchairs came out of nowhere at high-speed, as though she was out of control and rammed right into the side of my cart slamming it into my hip. There was pain, but I didn't swear at her or anything, not even when she didn't even say she was sorry.

Out of nowhere, original old fucker appears and starts yelling at me again, telling me I should learn to respect my elders and be more careful. I was concerned at this point, any time I turned around he would be right behind me to yell and curse (oh, yes! there was plenty of cursing coming from his ancient mouth) at me for things I had little or nothing to do with really.

Finally, I checked out and got back to my SUV. I got inside and smoked a cigarette which then reminded me that I was running low. I started her up and headed for Kwik Trip, only to see that my least favorite old persons were now turning their boat car of Satan into the lot!

I literally stopped my car at Menards and waited for them to go the fuck away. I didn't want another run in with ancient cursing man. One good open-palmed swat from me could have taken his head clear off his shoulders and I didn't need to also go to jail for him!

I'd like to think that he was suffering from some kind of dementia that made him act this way. If that was the case though, he really had no business driving a car. So people, if you have old people you love, keep an eye on them, they could be a handful if left unsupervised!

Also, I have taken a vow that there will be no more venturing out on Wednesday mornings especially nowhere near Walmart or any other place (grocery store, etc.) where there may be hoardes of elderly folks shuffling (not running) amok!

Hair Yesterday...Gone Today!

So, I got all my hair whacked off (total: 18 inches)...

And of course, it wouldn't be me, if it weren't also a completely different color than it was when I woke up this morning...

Hubby doesn't know yet...I thik he might freak a little...or well, actually, I think he, amongst several others, might freak a lot...So, I guess I'm gonna be a fiesty, little red-head for a while!

Donuts, Tax Credits and The Pope...

It's all about assorted goodness...

So, we'll start this post by saying that Wednesday night, I went into the kitchen for some leftover beef stew (I really wanted donuts, but there was a small issue of hubby having not come home yet, due to his having locked his truck inside the shop while changing his oil) and in trying to get a spoon out of the silverware drawer, I broke the kitchen. I reached in and pulled the drawer handle, and pulled the entire front of the drawer right off. This was disturbing. Apparently I don't know my own strength. I also apparently didn't know how important the front of the silverware drawer is the the silverware drawer. It's pretty necessary, especially when it comes to actually keeping the silverware and utensils in the drawer.

On a strange note though, as soon as the drawer broke, the oven seemed to start functioning like a real oven and not one that has been off in temperature by just over one hundred degrees since we moved in here. Can't figure that one out, but then again, the house may or may not be haunted...so clearly, we have our problems as assorted as they may be.

So, instead of donuts, there was leftover stew and bread. This was already getting a little old, but regardless, I settled in and watched the rest of season 2 'Arrested Developement' (Hilarious!) and then started watching season 2 'Dead Like Me' on DVD, while waiting to see if hubby would ever manage to free the truck and come home. This went on 'til damned near midnight, which for a Wednesday, was pretty late, but he and the truck did return home safely (with the oil changed) and understandably, this had already not been the typical Wednesday.

So, yesterday, I did practically nothing. Well, I did stuff but it was stupid shit like laundry and other assorted cleaning. Still wanted the donuts though. Hubby called and was all "What do you want to do tonite?" At this question, I had to consider the mostly nothing I had been doing already and how that seemed to be working out quite well for me. I did want to watch Walk The Line though having bought the DVD on Tuesday. He called me back again a little later asking a whole bunch of questions about the museum and their hours. I found this a little strange until I figured out why he was asking.

A couple weeks ago when BEG and Wendi were down, BEG and I were discussing going to the museum because their having a showing of Pope stuff, Pope memorabilia throughout the ages if you will. Hubby basically just spent the entire time laughing and mocking us for even thinking we were gonna do this. There was also some argument from him about how we would just go to mock and make asses of ourselves, how we would not take it seriously. He just thinks me, my cohorts, and our crazy schemes are retarded...not in a silly kind of way either. Like he literally stops and takes the time to consider how competent we are. And if not that, at the very least, he resigns to our simply being female...the gender from which this sort of behavior is to be expected. Hubby only finds us entertaining about 10% of the time.

And then this last Friday night when we were fighting, the topic of what we are not calling "The Pope Show" came up again...basically in the same manner of we would misbehave and act like retards when everyone else would be their for real reasons. I'm sorry if we think Pope is hilarious and mockable. It doesn't mean we can't be interested.

So, this is why he was asking me about the museum. He decided we should go this coming Sunday. I was acting like an asshole throwing all the shit he'd been giving me about it back at him. This inspired him to sing Marylin Manson's 'Dope Show', but in a very "We're all stars now...in the Pope Show" kind of way. And he's worried we'll mock!

The third time he called, I declared he better bring me donuts! And not just donuts, Dunkin Donuts of the non-powdered sugar, jelly variety and it better be quick! You don't mess with a girl when she wants a donut...or anything else for that matter! He said he'd bring them, but that he had to stop by formerly mullet-headed tax woman to get the tax shit. I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to wait a bit longer for the tasty, jelly goodness.

The fourth time he called was to rant and rave because Tax Woman made a four thousand dollar mistake on the taxes. He was irrate and I probably would have been too, but then again, I was fixated on the theory that donuts were coming my way.

You see, we live in a historic home. I've mentioned this before. When we were planning for the new roof we found out about the historic home state tax credit shit. It was a long and trying process, but everything was approved to get the credit which was like 25% of the cost. The roof went up and we paid the bill (please keep in mind a 6,000 square foot house does NOT have a small amount of roofing and literally it could have been worse with some of the estimates we got). Tax Woman apparently put the credit in wrong. She put it through as a federal credit when it should have been a state credit, since our house is not used for profit and it came back as a $250 credit as opposed to the three to four grand we were expecting.

Hubby got home...without the donuts (damn him!) and furiously scoured the internet looking for the info Tax Woman wanted proof of to fix it. Everything was sorted out, hubby calmed down and I even went easy on him for the lack of donuts. I only made a couple of snarky comments along the lines of "A donut would sure be good ride about now". He got the point and knew he's done me wrong.

So, we watched Walk The Line. It was wonderful. I'm a big Johnny Cash fan so it was like Christmas for me. Plus, Reese and Joaquin were excellent as they usually are. I have yet to find a movie in which either of them suck even the remotest bit.

After the movie, I declared to hubby that I had told BEG I would go up to her house for her birthday. I know this is still a month away, but he needs to be warned early and repeatedly. He was all, "Is she gonna come down for the pope thing?" I figured she wouldn't if he wanted to go this weekend, but I told him I'd ask. He then decided that maybe we should wait to go until she does come down. Whatever. This only really ended up spurring him to suggest that I fly up to her house for her birthday.

This is the dumbest idea I've ever heard seeing as how it cost about $100 in gas and about four hours of time. He looked on Expedia though.

There was actually a $587 roundtrip from Milwaukee to Wausau (and back of course) which took nine hours because literally the plane would just keep hopping back and forth over Lake Michigan, kaing stops during the flight. Like I said, this was the dumbest idea ever, but he's always right their with the money trying (although he barely ever succeeds) to make my life a little easier! BTW: If you are someone who gets on this plane...you are stupid and you deserve to have your time and money wasted...I hope you get motion sickness and have to try to puke in one of those little in-flight, paper vomit sacks! There was some more lack of donut harassment and then we were off to bed.

Hubby woke me up this morning to tell me he loved me and to kiss me goodbye, which while still half asleep, I don't respond to so well. I'm not a morning person and please don't wake me up to tell me something I already know...but this is our morning ritual. He tells me he loves me and that he's going to work...I mumble back, sometimes not even remembering I did it, that I love him too and to be careful.

This morning however, after the usual bullshit and with him back on his way out of the bedroom, I myself, still half asleep, yelled, "Bring me donuts!" really loud. This caused him to come back, laughing at me. I was like, "At least I said I love you and to be careful before I yelled about the donuts!"

I better get some friggin' donuts tonight!

A Little LIGHT Distortion...

Or 'Before You Die You See the Ring'...

Pic property of of Dreamworks and clearly not used for profit, just my own superstitious meanderings, which sometimes seem to get the best of me!

So, here's a little bit of the insane silliness that is me and my brain working overtime due to circumstances I had absolutely no control over. Let me just say, I was a little bit freaked by the sheer coincidence...

Not so long ago, on the night before the whole pink hair dye tragedy, I watched the movie The Ring. It was nothing new, I had seen it before and HBO was kind enough to play it for the umpteenth time and keep me busy for a little while. This is nothing particularly special...unless you take into consideration the events that followed and my own superstitious nature...which certainly wasn't helping.

So, the day after was when the pink hair dye went wrong and I, of course took some pictures of the disaster on my head, the one usable photo of the bunch ending up in that particular post to show how well it did not go and can be found somewhere on this blog and is really not the point right this second...

The other photos, the seriously screwed up and not even remotely usable photos brought one thought to my mind...Before you die, you see the ring. They were stashed in a separate folder to wait out the next seven days just to make sure (I know it's been longer than seven days, but I had forgotten about them until I came across them again this morning, whilst searching for something else)...

Here they are...now that I am officially not dead...

You can imagine my surprise when I uploaded these pictures from the digital camera to the PC and saw what they looked like...having just seen the movie about watching a movie that then distorts your face in any and all pictures taken of you afterwards. I had a 'Holy Samara Morgan' moment! As this was happening, hubby was laughing. I, of course, temporarily allowed my brain to get away from me and thought I might die in seven days! Clearly this did not happen and it was probably just the sunlight beating into the room through leaded glass windows that caused all the distortion in the pictures.

I'm not an idiot. I don't take horror movies seriously, although some I won't watch in the dark or by myself (And Samara Morgan was one of the scariest little bitches ever in a horror movie), but I think we all have those sort of moments. Everyone is capable about freaking out and I think I had every right seeing as how the movie goes and all and how my life seemed to be turning out like it!

Also, there is the fact that I live in a house that may or may not be haunted...the jury is still commiserating on that one.
I just kept the pics with the intent of this post (although the intention was to get it up sooner). It's not like I was waiting for a phone call or for Samara her self to crawl all gooey-like out of the big TV to get me!

Anyway, I thought it would humerous to share this with ya'll...see if anyone else would've freaked out if something like this happened to them.

Blather For the Masses...

So, I'm in a blathering kind of mood and there were a lot of haps yesterday. Plus, venting might help me to understand some of those involved and their particular motivations for doing the ridiculous things they do. There's a new post up on Part Deux, another google image search post, but at behest of the people who like our brand of mockery, so check it out (http://Pluralofapocalypsedeux.blogspot.com) and there's a new renter there too, so check her out too, if ya can (The last one sadly went almost completely ignored, poor thing). BEG has 'Fruity Oaty Bar' shenanigans over at http://pluralofapocalypse.blogspot.com, so check that out too if you'rs a Firefly/Serenity fan and need a fix of the goodness. Also, it's Ash Wednesday...not that this affects me or the post. Just thought I'd give a shout out to all the religious folk. I might as well also give a shout out to Wendi (spelled correctly), since she's probably reading along. And now on with the blather...

#1 - The idiot college boys kept me awake all night last night. Apparently, Park Ave. is now a really cool drag/street race strip. These boys have tricked out rice grinders and were tearing things up for most of the wee hours of morning (from like 1-4 am). They've never done anything like this before and although they are college boys and make noise, mostly I just notice it when they're banging whichever plastic girl happens to be there at the moment (Unfortunately, my huge front window in my living room, which my desk is in front of, looks directly into their living room and their shutters are barely ever closed!). I imagine the chaos only stopped when it did because the head idiot is a UPS boy and probably had to go to work...

...which brings me to #2 - Yesterday, I was making beef stew, from scratch and if you've ever done this, and I'm not talking the crock pot method, you know this is a lengthy process, not to mention, something one actually has to pay attention to the entire time it's stewing and brewing. So, I was making the stew and I was a total mess. The dogs were running around around the time the school children start making their way home. So there was stew and constant flipping out and barking on the part of the dogs. I'm stirring the stew and by chance looked out the back window (the motion detector had not gone off for some reason) and I see my UPS guy (not the idiot from across the street). I was like ,"What the hell is he doing here?" on my way to the door with the dogs now freaking out because the motion detector had finally gone off (I assume it was me in the house in front of the window setting it off and not actually UPS guy and such is my life). Apparently, hubby had ordered some stuff, so there were boxes and dogs and dogs barking and trying to eat UPS guy as though they have never seen him before. This is shit I deal with everyday (you should see it when the FED EX guy shows up), no big deal. In the midst of the chaos though, UPS guy starts hardcore hitting on me as though he doesn't know I'm married, as though I'm not a total disaster from the stewing adventure which was still in progress and as though I have the time to flirt back whilst carrying heavy boxes and trying to keep the dogs from eating him. Finally, he left. I concluded it was the smell of meat that brought all of it on...although he is generally a pretty flirty kind of guy, so whatever...and now, we're up to...

#3 - The things delivered by UPS man and ordered by hubby. I knew the one box was expected. The rec room has a separate heating/air system and the blowere motor was shot. Hubby had ordered a new one over the weekend. No big deal. I couldn't fathom what was in box #2, since the only other thing I know he bought via the internet over the weekend was his new tool box (the old one have been completely destroyed last Wednesday in a tragic losing a wheel and then tipping over while being moved to a new location...oh yeah, did I mention he changed jobs again? He did.) and I knew it wasn't the new tool box. Anyway, I put the boxes on the dining room table so hubby would be sure to find them when he eventually came home and then I pretty much forgot about them save for the few times I had to yell at Angus to stop chewing on the corner of the bottom box. Little did I know, box 2 contained the new trackball to replace the old one which had gone to hell in a handag after seven long years of being fondled.

This thing is gigantic, nearly twice the size of the last one and although it functions properly, I'm having some trouble adapting to the entire idea of it. KP, if you thought the last trackball was a pain in the ass, you ain't seen nothin' yet! Oh, whoa is me! And now on to...

#4 - Gossip! Gossip! Gossip! Jamie is apparently in jail for hitting someone with the car. I would say his car, except for it wasn't his car...he doesn't even have one, or a driver's license for that matter due to the last time, two years ago when he backed out of his driveway on New Year's Eve and ran over and woman and killed her. Will this boy ever learn? (Sidenote: Although, he should have been far more careful due to the whether, he was found to be not at fault for that woman's death. It was a blinding snowstorm and she was well over the legal blood alcohol limit and wandering around in the street).

#5 - I have found fault (other than the space cheese) with 'Space: Above and Beyond'...in the form of the very special Christmas episode of 'Space: Above and Beyond' (Disc 3, ep 2 "River of Stars"...be warned if you haven't gotten this far yet). Yes, there was one and it was all about the schlock! It was so sugary that I actually had to abandon the DVD watching spree and resume watching season 2 'Arrested Devolopement'. No schlock on that show! I will resume watching 'Space' when my teeth stop feeling like they're rotting out of my head. Although, in said very special x-mas ep, Vansen bought Hawke his very first Christmas present and then had to spend the time explaining the holiday to him. There was almost kissing, so I'm still hopeful.

See, just blather. Nothing too important!