Pole Dancing In The Dark

Clarification...

Actually, there was a plane crash last week about a mile away from where we were staying, and it wasn't long after the Coast Guard helicopters buzzed us on the beach that I did find Joe. All that is true. I really wish I had my camera at the time to pictures of how low they were flying. (And also honestly document the rescue of Joe, but I do have the re-enactment for you all...)

But before I get to the pictures, I have to share something else with my gentle readers…

Weirdest thing happened tonight while I was out with the hubster. We went to our favorite sushi spot on the whole planet for dinner. The place was slammed, heavy duty backed up people waiting for long times to eat at the hibachi tables, so we went to the sushi bar instead.

Now, it’s kind of sad to say, but we are on a first name basis with everyone that works there, especially the sushi chef, Danny. He usually hooks the hubster up with new things to try… but since tonight was so slammed, he couldn’t serve us new things without long sushi-less breaks in between. But that doesn’t bother us, because we like to take our time to eat and talk about everything. Besides, I had a week’s worth of stories to tell him about my trip. So, we are sitting there for about an hour and a half, when all of a sudden, these four guys dressed in their best rock and roll attire (black concert shirts, white wife beaters, black jogging pants, tattoos, and chains – fashion statements all) sit down next to us.

The first guy starts talking to everyone and no one – mostly to himself – stating that he wants salmon sashimi (that’s sushi without the rice for the uninitiated) several times. I lean over to the hubster to snark in his ear about the inebriated nature of his new buddy. He snickers a little. Then, being the so not shy type, (unlike yours truly) he asks this guy if he is in a band. The guy shakes his hand and says “My name is Steve Adler and I used to play for Guns –n- Roses, and now I play in my own band called Adler’s Appetite.” Being the skeptic that I am, I merely roll my eyes and lean over to hubster with an “I don’t think so.”

Hubster talks with the guys for a while longer, recommending sushi and sashimi for them all to try. He turns to me and says “well, they certainly talk like they’re in a band.” I tell him that I don’t doubt that they’re in a band and that they are playing somewhere in Rottenchester tonight, but I am having a hard time swallowing that we are currently sitting next to the drummer of Guns - n – Roses.

I came home tonight and checked on Wikipedia– sure enough, we were sharing sushi with Steven Adler of G-N-R. He looks pretty much the same, with smaller less blond hair. Weird huh? (We were invited to the concert but I had to decline… after all I am too old. It’s too loud.) Anyway, they were a friendly bunch of guys, and I wish them the best. (Sorry if I seemed rude, I just didn't believe you is all. And I am sure that no one will believe me.)

Anyway, on to the Joe rescue re-enactment....

Joe has just fought against the high tide waves after swimming vast distances. He strength is just about out when all of a sudden (oh no!)

another wave hits him... he is just about at the end of his rope and using his remaining strength...

he crawls to shore

where I find him. He is unconscious and I try to revive him with a little mouth to mouth, but it's no good. So I smack him around a little until he revives. Then I take him home so that he can dry out in the sun.

He kicks back on the chaise and sleeps off the traumatic stress.

More on this unfolding drama later...

I realize that I have issues, and I am a little strange... I think it just adds to the fun...

Quicky Update

Seeing as reliving my vacation has to be boring to my gentle readers, I will quit with the rehash. Here are the few key points:
1. Ex-President Clinton saw fit to interrupt my key moments of relaxation by visiting the Island for a few rounds of golf. Although I didn't know it at the time we passed by and saw "his" jet parked at the little private airport on Bohicket Road. I remember my aunt claiming sardonically "nice fancy jet you have there." When we found out whose it was the next day, I was semi-irked, figuring that my freakin' NYS tax dollars probably paid for his little golfing spree. Must be nice to just fly around the country on a whim to go play a few rounds... bastard…
2. Around the same day, a military test plane crashed a mile away from where we were staying. Cousin M and I were walking down the beach when the retrieval choppers flew over head. I wish I had my camera. The news said that both pilots lived through the accident, but I think that there was a third military person on the plane, because not long after, I found a solider washed up on the beach, needing medical attention. His name - Joe... at least that is all he can remember. He and I bonded instantly, as I nursed him back to health. (I actually just smacked him around until he regained consciousness.) Anyway, he and I watched out for each other the entire time. He guarded me against BOUSes. (Bugs of Unusual Size) and I gave him food, water and a place to sleep. (Seriously, earlier I was dive bombed by the world’s largest bee. It scared the crap out of me…)

Anyway, without any further ado, allow me to please introduce to everyone my newest hero – Joe!

3. I also took in a "Ghosts Of Charleston" walking tour, which was a bust, but more on that later. I have a dinner to make.

Going through the motions

I currently feel like I am a celebrity cruise commercial reject. You know the ones. The old bitty and geezer talking about how they were treated as royalty on this cruise they took, seeing their return to reality is only a temporary exile. I keep trying to shake my vacation mode off, but it has been far too depressing, especially with the crap that has been going on at work. So now I am vicariously reliving my vacation through blog entries.

Day 2
After another crap night's sleep, we woke up around 9, so that we could be out of the hotel before check out time. Because my mother and father and her mother all thought that we would crash the car somewhere along the way, they wouldn't let us have the key to the condo where we were staying. And since they all drove separately and stayed the night in North Carolina (somewhere), we had to wait until they finished the rest of their drive, which meant we had some time to kill in Charleston. And now thinking back on it, there are far worse places to be stuck a killin' da time. It was a cool but bright sunny day, kind of a promise of warmer weather to come, like the sun was holding the door open for it. We were fortunate enough to get a hotel room rifht in the heart of the "Historic district" by the open air market… which despite what many say, it was never used for slave trading. It was just an honest to goodness market place.

Cousin M and I started out our shopping spree day with a nice solid breakfast at Diana's attached to the Day's Inn hotel with the surliest night manager … ever. The pancakes were perfectly light and fluffy, the coffee was flowing copiously and the home fries were to die for. Highly recommend this restaurant to any lovely visitors in the Charleston area. And ignore the night manager at the day's inn. He's just a grumplestilskin.

(Is it a bad thing looking that looking at Cox and Forkum's "Taiwanese Take-out" cartoon made me really hungry for sushi?)

After looking around for a few hours, eating and shopping, we headed out to the island, passing above-mentioned parental units on the way, while on the cell phone with them. We laughed at their inability to work technology and turn their heads at the same time then drove to the condo. After parking and unloading the car unto the front porch, we walked to the beach to further kill time until the old fogies caught up and unlocked the door. Then major drama ensued because two of the bedrooms on the bottom floor had twin beds, where as the top floor bedroom was a king. Looking back, I am not even sure why there was any drama, but I am thinking it had a lot to do with my mother. According to her, my 89 year old grandmother was afraid to sleep in a twin, because she was afraid she'd fall out, and to be honest, at her age, none of us wanted to take that chance, so we offered her the king bed on the bottom floor. But then my mother wanted to actually sleep with my father (goodness knows why) so she and dad were going to take the top floor bedroom… but then they didn't want ot because it was "too open" and too many stairs. Cousin M and I solved the problem by pushing the two twins in my grandmother's room together to create the king sized bed, and proceeded to make it with the king sized sheets in the linen closet. Problem solved… but my goodness, the drama!

After all that, we proceeded to make our own dinners, walk the beach and go to bed. Well, the old fogies went to bed, but I stayed up late Bsing with my fav cousin. I think I fell asleep around 2 AM. I realized right before I dropped off that I wouldn't be getting a lot of sleep this vacation.

Day by Day, Play by Play

This is a picture from the return trip. I was stupid and packed my camera for the trip down, so I don't have any actual journey to SC pictures.

I hate spending the day at work when I am lacking substantial sleep and I am doped up on Benadryl. I'm just having a difficult time getting hubster to move to New Mexico. (Damn family.) Also, the assnuggets that work facilities replaced the lights in the ballast right above my desk while I was gone. I feel my will to live being sucked right out of my noggin. (I hate fluorescent lights.)
But enough about that… more about the trip.

~~
Day One (Prelude)
Thursday night around 10:30, my cousin came over top spend the night (as we both figured it would be a lot easier to get an early start Friday morning if I didn't have to drive to her home and pick her up.) After she arrived, we transferred the entirety of her house (including the kitchen sink) from the back of her Honda Civic to the back of my Saturn SC2 (with the convenient third door.) There was just enough room for my one really small suitcase and overnight bag as well as a smallish cooler. It's amazing how much crap you can stuff into one of those little cars. Of course, it helps when the back seats go down flatten out. (let's see how many hits that gets me…)

After the expert packing job (no applause, just money) done on my car, we decided to hop on over to the local Wegman's to fill up one some snack foods for our long ass haul down country. (I would have like to have said "across country" but really can't.) When we finally approached the check out it was around 11:30 PM and our cart looked as if two teenagers with a serious case of the munchies had just wandered through the store. (I should have taken pictures… but I was busy charging the new rechargeables that were just purchased) There, in the cart, encompassed all great munchie foods with the noticeable exception of pizza (and if we could have figured out how to cook that while driving, it would have been there as well.) There were pretzels, popcorn, potato chips, cookies, yogurt (our one concession to health food) and candy. We were all ready for a road trip.

We paid for our over abundance of munchies, went home, unpacked some of our food booty, ate some of our food booty as we watched The Incredibles, then I went to bed… and again was attacked by the inability to sleep until about 3 AM.

The real Day One:

I can boil it down to three words: Allergies suck sweaty Donkey testes. Ok, that was five. Leave me alone.

Naturally, the day that I have to actually be awake, aware and semi-coherent is the day that I get the smack down from an allergy attack at 6 AM. Needless to say, I was a touch grumpy. But there was no whining to be done because it wouldn't do us much good anyway. Hubster got up and did his usual morning routine, and then after much hugging, kissing and me threatening to throw him in the trunk to take him with me, he went off his merry way to work.

(Aside: To all those wondering why hubster didn't go with… A week with my family is NOT something I would wish on my worst enemy, let alone the man I love. Yes, some of them can be that bad.)

Anyway, I realized the error of my cockiness about the 15-hour drive around hour 2. I started having a pounding headache and wanted to throttle the person that was snoring in the passenger seat. There was a reason why we were driving together, and it wasn't so that she could sleep all day. But the time we drove over the Pennsylvania boarder (right near my college home away from home - the land of elicit fireworks and Adult Superstores) I was desperate enough to pull over into a McDonald's. I woke her lazy butt up and forced her to drive, while I tried to nurse the oncoming migraine down to a dull roar.

When she took over, she did some of the strangest adjustments to my seat that I ever did see. She moved the bottom half of the seat forward, and then tilted the top have (the back support) way way back. Then she proceeded to slouch-drive for the next five hours. (And then wondered why her back hurt so bad… kids, these days…) We switched off again. No sooner was she in the passenger seat then she began snoozing away. (She isn't very good company on road trips I decided and even if she is the mac mommy of navigation, it doesn't really do me any good if she is sleeping through the entire drive.) I took advantage of her downtime in the eternal quest for some place, any place that would sell me some Advil. I soon found one and took enough to numb an elephant.

After a long and arduous drive, we eventually wound up in Charleston, South Carolina, in front of the circular Holiday Inn. It was then we found out that there was a big tennis match thing going on in the city that weekend and apparently all the hotels were booked. I nearly cried. The mere thought of spending one more hour, let alone the rest of the night in my car, despite my passion for my Saturn, was more than I could take. Nor was I the only one, as sleeping beauty decided to take up the call to arms and literally call every single hotel in all of Charleston. She found us a place, with an extremely rude night manager, the narrowest parking spots known to man kind (did I mention I drive a very small Saturn?) and a room that smelled like stale cigarettes that may or may not have been infested with kitten sized bugs. I'm not entirely sure those weren't just my over active and over tired imagination working against me to make sure I would never sleep again. But eventually I lost consciousness to continue the adventure the next day.

~~

I learned a few important things on my first day of travel.
1. It never matters how much crap you pack, there is going to be something you need that you don't have, and you will have to stop somewhere specifically out of the way to pick it up.
2. When traveling vast distances by car, plan your bathroom breaks accordingly.
3. Never ever ever believe those "Next Exit" signs, unless you can see the big honking logos somewhere along the road. (My cousin decided that she really really really had to use the ladies in the middle of nowhere. I wound up getting off at one of those exits that had the "Next Exit Gas" signs. We drove 18 miles out of the way to find that stupid gas station. What can I say, the "Gas - this way" arrows were just taunting me to go just a little further.
4. Always have the camera out, just so you can prove the silliness that occurs on trips.
5. Always have the Benadryl handy, because the allergy attacks can really foul things up.

Home again, home again

It's really hard to imagine that a week ago today, I was sitting around on the
beach, coated with SPF 15, working on not getting burned. I'm not the sun
worshiper that I was back in the day. Matter o' fact, sit me next to my almost 90 year old grandmother, and I am the one that looks all pasty white unhealthy. Granted, the "career" I have chosen and my other computer based hobbies aren't exactly conducive to the baking of the skin, but nor are they conducive to the whole melanoma thing either. But the thing that pisses me off is the conversation that always takes place while on vacation in South Carolina with the fam.

Mommy dearest (to me): You need to get out in that sun and get some color, you look all pasty.
Me (as I lube myself up with sunblock): I'll be out when I am done with this.
Mommy D: You need some color!
Me: Just said I am working on it.
Cousin M (who fake bakes all year long, and arrives at South Carolina darker than most of the natives): Am I darker yet?
Me: How can you tell?
Mommy D: Cousin M, you shouldn't tan like that. All that fake baking is unhealthy.
Me: You fake bake.
Mommy D: Just for a base tan.
Me: And then you sit out in the sun.
Mommy D: But I cover my face.
Me: But you are trying to get me to sit out in the sun and get some color to my face.
Mommy D: Because you are so pasty.

The conversation continues in this vein, until Cousin M and I get tired of hearing
about which precise shade of brown is mother approved. Mommy D and Cousin M have a full length discussion on how horrible going to the tanning salons are for the skin (because sitting in the sun is so much better, right? Finally, I tell my mother to let it go, because I know that Cousin M has heard this all before. It's like telling a smoker what smoking does to their organs. It's information that most of them all ready know, but don't really care about. It's not like hearing it for the 508th time is going to cause them to go, "Really? I didn't know that. Thanks so much for saving my life. I will quit smoking now for sure!"

It just doesn't happen. Besides, my cousin is the type of person that would just go out and do it more to spite the person that is chastising her. For example: her mother forbid her to go and get tattoos, so she went out and did it. I kind of envy her obstinacy.

There were many moments of this type of conversation through out the vacation. There is nothing like spending way too much time among family to lower your self esteem to nothingness. At least I got to spend much quality time with the grandmother.

More later...

PS: To the wonderful people that have offered to help me with a new template, I am officially taking you all up on that offer. I can't afford much, but perhaps you have a wishlist?

Lazy lazy lazy

Pre-Hyptnotized Peter


What Office Space character are you?
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I blame it on my little bro.

I'm still downloading pictures... sigh.

Whew

I'm back... I realized on the drive home that I spent at least 35 hours of my vacation in a car (probably a lot more than that to be honest) but it was worth it. I also realized how much the weather here sucks. From sunny and 85 to 35 and sneelian (snow, sleet and rain all together.) I already miss the island, but it was great to come home to the hubster and kitties three. More details along with many photos later. Now, it's time for some z's.

Just a little refresher

In about 38 hours, this is the view I will be looking at...

Sun, surf and sand, I cannot wait.

Hope to see you all on the flip side and I AM OUTTA HERE!!!!

Disjointed

Last night I suffered from a bout of pre-vacation insomnia. It's the kind of thing that always sneaks up on me, whispering in my ear at three o' dark in the morning, telling me that I have forgotten something… or worse yet, to remind me of something I need to still do. Of course, eventually I will fall back to sleep and forget about what the persistent voice in my head woke me up in the first place for. I know that I still have to locate the cooler, pack some shoes for beach and dinner out, remember the toothbrush, do laundry so that I have enough underware, shop for some road trip snacks, download my photos onto my computer so that I can free up the card for the trip, perhaps purchase another card so that I won't run out of room and definitely buy some batteries - maybe some rechargeable. My mom says that my brother is bringing his computer, but I don't trust him to store the photos somewhere that I can get to. Bastard would probably delete them and then feign an "Oops." Yeah, in case you were wondering, I don't much care for my brother as a person. He once mailed my parents an invitation to their surprise anniversary party (which I had spent months planning secretly - all he had to do was mail the freakin' invites - loser… sigh. I'm still a little bitter about it. Sorry.)

Anyway, I woke up to all these thoughts and plans and reminders swirling through the tidy bowl of my noggin, so I made my way down to the kitchen to pack up the chocolate chip cookies I made before I went to bed (they were still too warm to package at 11:30PM.) I have to say that I was pretty disappointed with the way they turned out. Half the batch was baked on some professional grade stainless steel jellyroll pan / cookie sheets (they were all spread out and thin looking- ick) and the other half was baked on one of those Teflon coated cookie sheets (they came out puffy the way I like but burnt on the bottom.) Frankly, finding out that my favorite cookie recipe relied more on the baking sheets used rather than my "unique" blend of cookie dough ingredients is majorly disconcerting. I used to take pride in my chocolate chip cookies, but much like the cookies I made last night, my pride has deflated. It's sad, but I'll survive.

In other news, I actually sat down and watched TV last night, on one of the big three networks stations even. I wanted to see Revelations, the religious variation on the X-Files theme. I really only gave it a chance because 1. I love Bill Pullman and B. Revelations was my favorite book of the bible. It was even cooler when my teachers hinted at the vast amount of drug influence that John must have been under when writing it. And that wasn't the Jesuits but the Franciscans (I went to a catholic college.) The show - I wasn't impressed. I still love Bill Pullman, but speaking from vast religious experience, I have never ever ever seen a nun that cute. And I never knew a nun that quoted scripture at people non-stop. I think the idea was sort of cool, but the heavy handed preachiness is something that is best reserved for church. Even the music was too over the top annoying.

The story was interesting as it was about a young girl who was struck by lightening (not once, but twice - she was having a bad day) and was now in the hospital in a "PVS" state - or so the doctors kept saying. They were busy trying to convince the girl's father to take her off life support (which, being TV, you don't actually see an real life support being used) because they want to harvest her organs. And naturally, her father doesn’t have health care because they are too poor. Oddly enough, after the girl starts speaking in tongues (while in a "vegetative state") the father isn't seen in the show again. He isn't there to make the decision one way or another, but suddenly there are all these priests and nuns protecting the girl.

Ok, I am not going to give away the rest for anyone who Tivo'ed it, but I have one question. Actually more than one, but just one for right now. How likely is it that the girl's organs would be of any use to anyone else after being struck by lightening, not once, but twice? It impacted her so hard that her filling were pushed up into her brain pan - so how do they think the kidneys fared? I'm no doctor, but something that messes with your body and brain that much cannot be all sunshine and puppies for the various organs they want to harvest…
It just makes no sense.

But at least they didn't talk about starving her to death.

On the whole, I wasn't all that impressed with the show itself, but I am willing to give it another chance, for Bill's sake.

I haven't been here long

But I have to say that this is, by far, the friendliest blog/online diary/journal type place I have ever joined. I know that it doesn’t look like I have been around long, by the amount of posting done here and on Blogsnot, but I have been doing this thing on again off again in different forums since 1999. (Mostly in forum format until Diary-X in August of 2001.) But the kick ass thing about this is that it seems like everyone from Munuviana has dropped by to say hello and they all rock most righteously.

I don’t seem to have a lot of free time coming in the next couple of weeks. This week is going to be sent getting ready for vacation next week, and next week I will be in South Carolina with family, so you know I am not going to get any kind of actual entry done. So, to make up for the fact, here is a slightly outdated version of “100 Things You Never Knew and Never Wanted to Ask.” Enjoy.

And thank you Pixy Misa and Jim for letting me move in. I promise I won’t trash the place.

100 Things.

1. I was born deaf. Apparently it had something to do with tonsils and adenoids.

2. I didn’t learn to talk until I was three… because I couldn’t hear.

3. I had my tonsils and adenoids removed, and then had tubes for a really long time.

4. I have made up for lack of speech many many many times over.

5. I was adopted two weeks after my birth.

6. I have decided not to search for birth parents, but need to get my hands on any medical records.

7. I hated grammer school. I have blocked most of the memories. Otherwise I would be a very bitter bitch (more so, wise guy!)

8. My mother taught at the school I went to. I think that may explain #7 some. (it was a very small parochial school.)

9. I still hold some of it against her.

10. I have abandonment issues.

11. I hate spiders, but I am no longer afraid of them.

12. When I was in college, I had to baby sit a friend’s tarantula while he was away. I gave the little bastard earthquakes by shaking the aquarium.

13.I hate the smell, taste and texture of sauerkraut. My father is of German decent, so just imagine how well this went over.

14. I have severe family issues and wonder how much of it is my fault, and how much of it is theirs. (They don’t seem to “get” me a lot of times.)

15. I am terrified of perpetuating that abuse on my own child. I think that is the reason I am so not ready to have one.

16. I want to be a writer, and get paid great big gobs of money for my imaginative spewings and my uncanny wit!

17. I wanted to be a singer for a heavy metal band, but lack the voice and talent.

18. It broke my heart to finally come to terms with the fact that I cannot carry a tune in titanium enforced bag or bucket. Ahh, the death of a dream.

19. I still belt out tunes in the privacy of my car and shower. I torture my husband by singing at him as well.

20. I have a very morbid sense of humor.

21.I used to love camping. Now I can’t deal without a shower and a flushing toilet.

22. I’m terrified of outhouses. I imagine a large bug of unknown origin crawling on my ass when it is hanging in the breeze. Is that too much information?

23. I was the lone chorus member in our college production of Doonsbury. Talk about feeling like a 5th wheel.

24. I almost failed my first semester of college due to pneumonia and a car accident. Of course, my teachers didn’t believe me until I started handing them medical bills.

25. I despise Mr. Doan for yelling at me in front of the class “I don’t even know what the hell you are doing here!” Not a very good thing for a teacher to ever do to a student. I was there to learn, unfortunately your teaching methods sucked. (I hope you find this. And oh yeah, kiss my lily white ass.)

26. I still carry some anger over stupid things. (See above.)

27. I was engaged three times, but only officially once if the ring is a necessary part of the process. I will only really admit to the once anyway.

28. I had a boyfriend that stopped taking showers for weeks at a time while we were together. I broke up with him soon after.

29. I refer to him as my temporary insanity boyfriend.

30. I did actually have a nervous breakdown once, but I am feeling much better now.

31. I never thought I would live past the age of 21. I’m not sure why. But imagine my surprise that I will be celebrating my 29th birthday for the 6th time in December.

32. I am the only person I know that was given detention when I was in first grade. Apparently I wasn’t doing my homework.

33. I am wondering how I am ever going to make it to 100 things on this list. I don’t consider myself that interesting.

34. I regret the fact that I still haven’t gone skydiving.

35. I still want a tattoo of a moon on my ass.

36. I really do like vanilla coke.

37. I think blue pepsi taste a lot like ass.

38. I will never reveal how I know what ass tastes like.

39. I don’t really like my brother. I have to love him because he is my brother, but as a person, we don’t get along well at all.

40. Sometimes I don’t really like myself.

41. I have been in therapy. It saved my life.

42. I broke my arm when I was four by jumping off a swing.

43.I broke my right foot three weeks before high school graduation playing indoor soccer.

44. The gym teacher made me continue playing.

45. I broke my left foot three weeks before college graduation during a cast party. I still can’t figure out how it happened.

46. When I called my mother to tell her, she asked, “Can’t I ever see either one of you kids graduate in one piece?”

47. My brother was nearly killed in a biking accident the night before his college graduation, which is why she said that. He was BWI.

48. He did 1000 dollars worth of damage to the flat bed of the truck in front of him with his face. And yet, he only has one little scar. Talk about lucky.

49. Until I was 27, I never had stitches.

50. After that, I had one stitch in my finger after cutting myself with a cat food can.

51. I had all four of my impacted wisdom teeth removed at once. I fell in love with Valium that day.

52. I chipped the hell out of my front teeth while sledding when I was 13. I had temporary fillings on my teeth until I was 28.

53. I cried the night I came home from the dentist when I saw how ugly the temporary caps looked.

54. I cried the night I came home from the dentist when I saw how great the permanent caps looked.

55. I cry during Kleenex says bless you commercials.

56. I cry during the Iams Science diet commercials.

57. I cry when I think about my dog Smokey and how unfair her death was, and how unfairly I treated her.

58. I cry entirely too much.

59. I am very shy when I first meet people. Give me a day, and then you can’t shut me up.

60. I hate it when people interrupt me while I am speaking.

61. I was raped twice in college. I don’t like to talk about it, but I can’t believe I didn’t learn my lesson the first time.

62. I’m a little slow on the learning curve.

63. I think my life would have been completely different if I had been born a blond.

64. That was a joke.

65. I miss being in radio. But I certainly don’t miss the miserable paycheck.

66. I never became susceptible to the “radio ego.” That is a good thing.

67. Was a very good year. :)

68. Hubster sometimes calls me Liz. Says that I remind him of a lizard on a hot rock when I sleep. (I crank the electric blanket up to 9 even in the warmer weather.)

69. Just bought kickin’ new sunglasses that are way too big for me head.

70. I’m wearing them right now.

71. It’s kind of hard to see with them on.

72. I have had 10 teeth extracted from my mouth because it was (get this) too small for all of them.

73. Two of them (bottom front) were removed because they grew in black, thanks to antibiotics when I was a baby.

74. I was born with pneumonia. I have a sneaking suspicion that my birth mother was a smoker.

75. I was a very defective baby, looking back at it now. And ugly as well.

76. I broke my tailbone while roller blading when I was 27 (it was two months before I was supposed to get married the first time.)

77. At one point during our engagement, I broke it off. I wanted to be sure that I was doing the right thing.

78. I came to my senses quickly.

79. I have never regretted that decision.

80. I walked into the bathroom while my father was on the john last year at Thanksgiving.

81. I have the worst timing in the world.

82. I worry a lot lately about money. I never thought I was this materialistic.

83. I love horses, and regret not owning one.

84. Yes, I know how to ride both English and Western. (Or at least I remember learning the two.)

85. I hate country music with a passion. It comes from working at a country/western music radio station for a year and a half. It’s a wonder I didn’t kill myself during my shift.

86. I hated dolls growing up. I spent far more time climbing trees and picking ups snakes and all those tomboy things.

87. I am now terrified of snakes. (I can’t figure it out either.)

88. My brother and I almost burnt down our house once. We started a little firecracker fire underneath the arborvitaes.

89. I kill plants with just my mere arrival. I am prouder of this talent then I should be.

90. I always wanted to learn to play the piano. I have played flute, clarinet and guitar.

91. I actually loved high school. It was the only time in my life I was popular.

92. Spaghetti is my favorite food of all time.

93. Apparently I am Scottish, English and Welsh. I am proud of me Scottish heritage even though the Scots seem to be most well known for the love of sheep.

94. I think the Serta sheep are too damn cute, but that doesn’t mean I want to have sex with them.

95. My hands are starting to hurt from all this typing.

96. I am an awesome cook. But a better baker! Which explains part of my ever-widening ass.

97. I wonder why people find me so hard to get along with, when I think I am so easy going.

98. I feel like an outsider to the rest of my family.

99. I have suddenly begun to like beans, spinach and asparagus.

100. I can’t believe you are still reading this.

Some people should be

slapped so hard that they will be picked up for speeding somewhere into next week.
Greg over at Wide Right Turns has an interesting spin on "The Mae Magouirk Story." What's that you say? She wasn't being starved to death after all.

Like him, I am no longer following this particular story.

Not a good way to start out the week. But on the brighter side, at least the rest of us are assured that she is being taken care of.

By the way

I find it morally reprehensible that all the news is so devoted to this:
Royal (dumbass) Wedding, that they are completely ignoring the fact that a woman in Georgia was being brutally tortured and murdered by being starved to death. Regardless how people felt about Terri Schaivo, this case is completely different in many regards. This woman, Mae Magouirk is not PVS, has a living will that specifies that she not be denied food or water unless she were in a coma or vegetative state – and she is in neither.

I selfishly stayed away from this story as it infuriated me and created the helpless feeling that I had as Terri was starved to death. It’s a lame excuse at best. Fortunately, Linda and Greg, have devoted a lot more time to it, and gotten the news out. And now Mae is getting fed, but her selfish murderous bitch of a granddaughter is contesting it because SHE had decided that grandmother wouldn’t want to live that way. Maybe her cousins should decided that she doesn’t want to live with the insurmountable obstacle of being a See You Next Tuesday and should see how she likes being starved to death.

Just so everyone knows where I am coming from…
My wonderful dear sweet loving grandmother is 88 years old, she has degenerative heart failure, she can no longer see, she can no longer hear. Her body is wearing out, but her mind… that woman is as sharp as a tack… and if anyone tried to starve her to death because they thought she was too old or wouldn’t want to “live” like that, I would kill them. I would never allow anyone to do that to any member of my family and cannot understand where someone would.

Now I get it...

The reason why my links weren't showing up as I wanted them too is because - you ready for the depths of my stupidity? Get this - after pasting all the code in, I kept selecting "rebuild site" or what ever the button is down at the bottom instead of the "save" button. Sometimes, I kill me. But I am a working this out.

Word of the day - courtsey of Tuning Spork:

slam-spammed -- splammed

Sporks - they're not just for evil anymore. They are still semi-evil when they come with yogurt though. :)

I don't get up this early

even on school days. It's 7 AM and the hubster is all nestled in bed, and that's where I should be as well. But no, I was being chased by evil (but well dressed) Cascading Style Sheets (400 thread count, Egyptian cotton.) Yes, I realize I am not making any sense. I haven't had any coffee and I was out shopping with my mom for my trip down south next week, I spent all together way to much money and I am itemizing the things I am taking back in my head. There is just way too much going on in my noggin. Plus, I really want to get my links up, for both HCBA and MuNu (I am way too tired to spell it all out right now.)

Linda and Gir, Thank you both for your offers of help. You don't even know how much I appreciate it. I was going nuts last night just trying to add the Munu and HCBA javascripts. I figured that I was doing something wrong around the fourth time and gave up until I had some time to kill - this weekend should give me the time I need. Interesting and almost prophetic aside, I signed up two weeks ago for a CSS course through the evil corporate entity, so now I have the barest of understandings. CSS for Dummies, here I come.

And Happy Belated Birthday, Gir!

It's a start

My goodness... this is different. Anyway, instead of just doing a little test entry, here is something that I have wanted to vent about for a while. Now, just so everyone is on the same page (figuratively speaking, cause you would all have to be on the same webpage to even read this) it is necessary to let my gentle readers know that my main mode of transportation is a wee little Saturn SC2 (2002 – no finance charges –sweet irresistible deal) which is fun to drive and can park almost anywhere. I have even managed to improve my parallel parking skills because this thing is so small.

But there is a serious draw back to having such a small car in the (almost) Great White North and that is that everyone else around me drives in HUGE giant sized SUVs. No one drive the little explorers or blazers. No, they all have to drive the gia-normous Expedition or Suburban. Not only are Americans super sizing their food and waistlines but also the vehicles that carry them. And it never ever ever ever freaking fails that no matter what small cars I park next to before going into a store, I am always sandwiched between two SUVs when I come back out. Which means, guess what – I cannot freaking see when I try to back out.

So, here is my small little piece of not so useless advice to anyone who will stop by here: If you ever see a dinky little car backing out between two immense vehicles, please be kind and let them out. Don’t nearly nail them because you can’t be bothered to slow down in a PARKING LOT and then yell at them through your window. Chances are they don’t give a shit what you have to say as they are probably trying to get their heart started again. We can’t seeeeeee yyyyoooooouuuuuu! Idiot.