VICTORY!!!

Oh, the taste of sweet victory! It seems that Officer Friendly of the "I'll ticket you because wadda ya gonna do about it?" company had better things to do on the Thursday before Christmas than show up at traffic court, so that means Suzanne is freeeeee!

Okay, I wasn't actually in danger of being jailed, but I'm freeeeee of paying the fine and having the ticket on my record, so woo and hoo.

Shout out to Jonathan for accompanying me to the halls of justice. The whole affair took only half an hour, but it would have been a much longer half-hour without ya baby!

I actually thought at first that I might be screwed. The prosecutors came in, called out two names and told those guys right off that their cases had been dismissed. I figured that meant that the rest of us were going to have to dance. After a little roll call to see who had shown up, there were only 3 of us left who were there and ready to tango. The judge called a little recess for the prosecutors to see which cops and witnesses had shown up.

They called one guy out into the hall to talk to the arresting officer for his case. This kid was some kind of athlete from out of town who had gotten into trouble when he came to Austin for a game of whatever he plays. They pleaded down to something lesser and that guy was done. That left two of us.

The judge called the other guy up to the bench and told him his case had been dismissed. I saw hope!! Sure enough, he then called me to the bench and gave me my dismissal. Free at last! Free at last!

So, what have we learned from all this? Slow down - don't speed? Uh...right. Do you even know me? I believe the lesson here is: fight your ticket. Especially if you can get your court date close to a holiday.

Jingle bells and Batman don't smell

Finally did something last night that felt like Christmas. I haven't been into the season at all this year - I've only half-decorated; I've already blogged about the marginal satisfaction of shopping this year; I've done NO baking; I haven't seen any Christmas shows - it just feels like the whole season is slipping away.

But last night, after a fabulous dinner with My Girls at Fino, we went down to 37th Street and looked at the lights. We went to Starbucks, and I got a peppermint hot chocolate, and we walked the length of the street, oooing and ahhing and even singing some Christmas carols. It was really nice. :) First time all season that I've really felt like it was the season.

Of course, that's all gone this morning. Crazy day at work, temps in the upper 70s today, and tons of non-Christmas stuff to do today (including going to court on that b.s. speeding ticket tonight - power to the people!), but at least for a moment, it was Christmas.

She's a mysterious soul

In my email, Mercedes Masters wants to know, "Does it satisfy her?" I don't know, Mercedes. I haven't really talked to her about it, and if I did, I'm not sure she'd tell me. She's a people-pleaser, so she's likely to tell me it's wonderful and all she could ask for when in reality, she's left feeling wanting. I'd like to think it satisfies her. She's a nice person, and I want her to be happy. But there's just no way of knowing if she won't be open about her feelings.

Temps in fabulous Austin, Texas to hit 70-73 today (depending on which forecast you watch). I see all these stories about blizzard conditions up north, and I gotta say, it's good to live in Texas. Oh wait - no, it's not. It's awful to live here, so if you live somewhere else, you should stay there. Don't move here. You wouldn't like it.

Sharky is filthy and deserves better, so I'll have to consider going through a car wash. It's a little chilly to wash it myself (by the time I get home, the temps will no doubt be dropping back into the 60s, and that's a little cold to be getting wet washing a car), but I also don't feel like spending a bunch of money on a Genie-level car wash, so I may just run it through a gas station set-up for a few bucks just to knock the dirt off. It's much too soon to be neglecting Sharky this way.

Hope you're all having a fabulous pre-Christmas week!

One step closer

Christmas is almost here - as in, like, a week away. Or not even "like" a week away. It's an actual week away!

I sent out Christmas cards last week. That was step one. Then Saturday, I finished (or, you know, did all at once) my Christmas shopping. Step two. Then after the shopping, I decorated my house. That was step three. Though I must confess, I only decorated the inside. If I'm going to the trouble of putting up outside lights, which I usually do, they need to be up at least 3 weeks before Christmas. That's too much work for only a week or two's enjoyment. And I take them down right after New Year's. Since I was too far beyond the 3-week limit this year, it's inside-only decorating this year. But the inside looks very festive!

I didn't mind cranking out all my shopping in one day, but I must say that I've discovered a certain element of my shopping that's less fun than it used to be. There are not a huge number of people on my list, but the people who are there are, in many cases, hard to buy for. Either they buy themselves whatever they want when they want it, leaving you with no idea what to buy them that they don't already have, or they're likely to get what I buy them from more than one source. So, I found myself attaching the gift receipt to a record number of presents this year before I wrapped them.

That was kind of a damper on the joy of giving - this *expectation* that the recipient would probably return it. The fun of giving a gift is trying to think what someone wants and then the awesome feeling when they open it and you can tell they're genuinely excited - you nailed it. When you can't even make it out of the store without thinking, "Well, I guess they can take it back," it sort of leaves you with the feeling, "Why am I doing this?"

But it's done, so I can move on to the part of the season where I go to holiday dinners and parties (that's already started actually...) and then see my family. In other words, the good stuff. Just a few more days of work, and I'm off until January 2! Woo-hoo!

Had to do a second post,

because this is freakin' hilarious.

Now that's a headline. And don't leave me any comments telling me how it's wrong and makes light of domestic violence or any of that crap. It's damn funny, and you know you laughed when you read it. We all know Ike was a f-ing pig and a loser, but Miss Tina had the last laugh, so don't worry yourself about it.

Beat her to death (snicker) - good stuff.

Now, if you'd said 98%...

For a while there, my email was constantly littered with offers to buy replica watches. At another point, it was frequent notifications that my mortgage application had been approved. At still another, pharmaceutical snake charmers tried to entice me with Viagra.

Lately, the constant barrage is for a FU(K buddy. They ask if me if I want one. They promise me they'll get me one. They even make claims of success. They say that 65% of their clients find a fu(k buddy. 65%? Is that a good percentage?

I mean, if you're making an offer online, the presumption is you either are a willing participant or you have a willing participant waiting by the phone to get the call. And if you're a willing participant, trolling the Internet for a copulatory pal, you can't be particularly selective. So, even if you rightly assume that your likely new screw friend probably isn't very attractive (because if they were, they probably wouldn't need to send spam asking strangers to help them out), that's clearly not a problem, right?

So, if you've got two willing parties, neither selective, both very clear in their intention, taking action to close the deal, shouldn't the percentage be way higher than 65%?

I just don't think that's much to brag about. If a UT football coach only won 65% of his games, he probably wouldn't be around long. So, I have to assume that something is amiss in the business model here. And if I'm already suffering from the kind of self-loathing that propels me to answer spam emails offering fu(k buddies, I have to also assume that the rejection of being one of the 35% that *doesn't* get laid by the willing and unselective person on the other side of the offer could possibly send me right over the edge.

So, like the Viagra, mortgage and replica watch offers, I'm gonna turn this one down. Oh sure, I may kick myself one day for what I missed out on. But you've got to trust your gut.

But I don't have a sister...

I came across an old movie last night that I've never seen. There are lots of old movies I've never seen before, so that's not surprising, but the fact that I actually put it on and watched it kind of was.

See, I love old movies, and I run across them all the time on my satellite channels, but I always find myself "saving" them for when I can watch them on the big screen at the Paramount Theater's classic film festival in the summer. Thing is, the last few years, the Paramount is showing fewer and fewer of the really old movies and more movies from the 70s and 80s that they've deemed "classic." It's kind of disappointing.

So, last night, when I saw this movie come on, and it was only about 75 minutes long, I figured what the hell. It probably wouldn't show up at the film festival anyway. So, I watched it.

It starred Barbara Stanwyck and was from 1931. It was called "Night Nurse." And no, it wasn't dirty - get your mind out of the gutter. It was about a nurse who is caring for two children who are wasting away. Turns out there's a murder plot to starve the children so that the mother and her gangster boyfriend can get control of the children's trust fund, and the nurse (Stanwyck) saves the kids with the help of her bootlegger boyfriend. I guess in 1931, instead of hookers with hearts of gold, you had bootleggers with hearts of gold.

As frequently happens, I got the chance to see a star-before-they-were-a-star in one of the supporting roles. Clark Gable played the part of the gangster. That was pretty cool. I was actually looking down when he first came on screen, but as soon as I heard his voice, my head snapped up because I knew who it was! Distinctive voice, that Gable.

Anyway, it was a good little movie, and several parts of it brought home to me how some things never seem to change. People are people no matter what era they live in. And the more I see movies with Barbara Stanwyck in them, the more I like her. She was somethin'. I definitely need to feed my enjoyment of old movies more often by watching them when they come on my movie channels and not waiting for the Paramount to show them.

Favorite line of the movie: "In a big way, sister!" Stanwyck said it several times - I guess as a catch phrase. I like it. I think I'll start saying it.

Now, why you gotta go and make me be a beeotch?

Why do some people have to see how far they can push you?

I walk around being a nice person. I like to get along with people. I like to be nice and have people be nice to me. I like to ask for things, rather than demand them. I like to be someone you can come to if something isn't going the way it should and you can explain it to me, knowing I'm not going to bite your head off. I'm more interested in finding a solution than arguing about what's wrong. I like to work it out if there's a problem, with unraised voices and a reasonable attitude. If I'm wrong, I apologize. I like for everyone to walk away with no hard feelings, and I like to just get things done, right and on time. I like to be pleasant to work with, and I find that the less drama involved, the more efficient things are.

That's what I like.

But make no mistake. I can be a bitch with the best of them if that's how you want it. I can create new levels of tension you didn't know existed with tangible waves of hate streaming from my pores every time you're in the room...if that's how you want it. It's all up to you. And how you want it. One of my co-workers thought, just for a minute yesterday, that that's how he might want it.

He's changed his mind. That's a smart move. For everyone.

Some people just have to see if they can bully you. They just HAVE to know if you're someone they can run over. Doesn't matter how nice you are. It's not about you. It's about them. And if you let them...if the first time they try it, you don't take a f-ing lead pipe and slam it right up into their engine as they try to run you over...you'll fight it the rest of the time you're around that person. Once they know they can do it, they'll do it. Just because they can. Because some people just aren't very nice at their core.

In my case, I learned early on that this person was like that. I heard the stories. I saw the tendency. So, I prepared myself, knowing my time would come. I was as nice as I could be, right up to the moment when he pushed too far. And then I stood my ground and slammed my lead pipe up into his engine. It was unpleasant. It was unpleasant that he took things there, and it was unplesant to have to get all Alexis Carrington on his ass, to have to tap into my inner Leona Helmsley. I don't like to be angry or to have to slam my stiletto into someone's instep. But it was his choice.

I'm glad he's reconsidered his approach with me. It'll be so much nicer if we can go back to being pleasant, and amenable, and accommodating. I'd like to think we have a permanent understanding between us, but I'm going to guess he'll try it again at some point. I could be wrong. But I'll keep my pipe handy just in case.

New ride. So cool I gotta wear shades...

Well, folks, a frequent subject here at the blog has gone onto its just reward, and new era has begun. I have traded in the Cougar on a new ride. And it's sweet.

I know it's hard to imagine the silver bullet gone - take a moment to mourn.

Are you okay?

Okay, then. Meet the new car:



This is not my actual car - I don't have a photo yet of mine. But this is what it looks like. It's a 2007 Hyundai Tiburon GT Limited.

I bought it Friday, and I've already put 250 miles on it! But driving is what it's for, no? I need to spend some time with the owner's manual and see what tricks it's got up its sleeve, but I'm enjoying it immensely already.

Boyfriend educated me that "tiburon" means "shark" in Spanish, so the new car's nickname may be The Shark. We'll see if that sticks. Speaking of sticks, the new car is an automatic - first one I've owned in about 10 years. I'm adjusting nicely, though. We'll have to see if my left leg atrophies with no clutch to operate anymore.

Hopefully, I'll have no stories to tell for a long time about The Shark. That'll mean everything is going well. And if I'm going to have a car payment, I want everything to be going well.

So, congratulate me!

Austin - Tinsel Town South

They're filming a movie scene outside my office window today. I don't know who "they" are, but "they" seem to have a real budget for real equipment. It's not just some students from film school walking down the sidewalk with a handheld. Here's what I've seen twice so far:

I hear honking - insistent honking that says, "Hold up! Comin' thru!"

I look out the window, and there's a motorcycle cop. He stops traffic and keeps looking behind him.

After a few seconds, here comes a truck with a flatbed. On the flatbed is some kind of crane-camera rig. The camera is aimed at a car driving alongside the truck (on the first pass, the camera was looking right into the passenger window and the car stayed even with the truck; on the second pass, the camera was in front of the car, shooting through the window, and then the car sped up and passed the truck and the crane/camera swung around and ended up shooting through the passenger window).

Bringing up the rear is another motorcycle cop, and as the truck clears the intersection, traffic resumes.

They pass right by my office and then...I don't know, because I go back to work.

Pretty cool. At my last job, they spent an entire day filming a scene from a Tommy Lee Jones movie ("Man of the House") right outside my office window. He hung out, right outside my window all day...looking bored, if you really want to know. I took pictures. Because hey man - it's Tommy Lee Jones. I wonder what this movie is. Anyone know what major motion picture is filming in Austin right now?

It's a competition! I mean...charity.

A friend of mine sent me a link to a cool site today. Okay, it's not really cool. It's nerdy, but it's also do-goody, so you can indulge your inner wordsmith and do some good in the world at the same time. You don't have an inner wordsmith? Well, then, you sucketh.

The site is called freerice.com, and it's a vocabulary game. They give you a word and 4 definitions to choose from. If you get the definition right, the site donates 20 grains of rice to the UN World Food Program.

For all of you people good at "math" and "numbers" and "adding things," please go there, then report to me how many words you got wrong so that for once, I can feel superior. For everyone like me, word people, this is our world. Go live in it for a while and feel competent. Do it before you go to lunch today and are asked to calculate tax and tip on your lunch. You'll feel better.

Oh, yeah, and you're helping hunger...blah, blah, blah...feeding people...yadda, yadda.

Overheard at work...

"What the hell is wrong with people?"

What indeed?

BCS = Big Crock of Sh...

I hate the BCS. It's got to be the stupidest thing going right now in sports.

I know it's been a weird year for college football. Every single week the top 10 has gotten a shake-up. The only unbeaten team right now is Hawaii. It's crazy.

But come on. Ohio State and LSU in the national championship game? LSU was #7 last week in the BCS, and they have 2 losses, but as of yesterday they could win the whole thing? Give me a break. And Kansas in the Orange Bowl and Mizzou doesn't even get a BCS bowl - after Mizzou took Kansas to the woodshed and even the BCS ranks Mizzou higher than Kansas - by TWO places? What the frig?

This whole system needs to be trashed. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, we need a playoff system. Start with 8 teams. It would only take 3 weeks of play for the entire tournament. And non-championship tournament bowls would still be allowed, so everyone could continue making bowl money and cashing in. It's so simple that it's stupid we're not doing it.

For 4 teams, they'd play the same number of games they play now, because they'd be out in the first round - equivalent to playing one bowl game. For 2 teams, they'd play one extra game, and for the championship teams, they'd play two. And even that could be remedied by doing away with the extra throw-away game that was tossed in at the beginning of the season this year for most teams. That extra first game is pointless anyway, so toss it and that would mean that only 2 teams in the entire system would have to play an extra game from what they're playing now.

And you let HUMANS decide who'll be in the tournament. We do it for basketball, baseball and every other freakin' sport. Why not football? Why is a computer involved?

So, there ya go. Texas will be in the Holiday Bowl on the 27th. I will be in Fabulous Las Vegas that day, so I won't be around to go to it, but depending on the time and my traveling companion's interest, maybe I can catch it there. Seems like a good place to watch a sporting event!

You lie, weather man

In my email: Carmelo McGuire wants to know if I'm, "Short on dough?" No, Carmelo, I'm good. I've got plenty of dough, and if I run short and need more, I've got flour in the pantry and can whip up a fresh batch. But thanks for asking.

So, the meteorologists on TV keep telling me that there's practically nothing in the air - a tish of mold, and today they said maybe a little ragweed, but nothing that should be a problem! So, why can't I breathe? I'm dyin' here.

For days now, my sinus passages have been swelling up and making me stupid. I went to a co-worker's baby shower yesterday and finally had to just excuse myself and leave because I realized I was just staring at her slack-jawed. I could hear everything, but my head felt like it weighed about 20 pounds and the pressure behind my face had paralyzed my speaking muscles.

I'm trying to bombard myself with what I can - Vitamin C, decongestant, Zyrtec, Neti-pot, Tylenol - but it seems to just barely keep my head above water. And I'm doing this weird double-sneezing. Like I can't sneeze just once. I sneeze twice in quick succession - the second one comes before I can catch my breath from the first one. That's never happened before.

So, SOMETHING is in the air. And I'd appreciate it if you (metereologists, readers, whoever) could get it out. It's unpleasant.

I'll buy a vowel.

Phone is still out. Word is that an AT&T repairman should be out today. After it's all up and running, I get to start making calls demanding a refund on my DSL and phone bill for all the days I've been out of service. That'll be so much fun. Big companies are always so willing to step up and do what's right.

So, Pat Sajak is my favorite celebrity today because he gets it. For those of you too lazy to read the editorial he wrote, he basically says that while a celebrity endorsement might be advantageous for a political candidate because of the publicity it brings, it should be completely useless to a voter in helping them determine who to vote for. Sajak says celebrities are "uniquely unqualified" to tell you who to vote for. He's so friggin' right. And the fact that he just said it out loud makes want to buy the man a beer.

That's what's called integrity folks. Sajak *is* a celebrity, and yet instead of trying to elevate himself/celebrities for his own ego-driven motives, he's being intellectually honest. He knows what the truth is, and he's saying it, even if it doesn't particularly do anything for his own status. And you know what? Doing that just elevated his status in my eyes.

Right on, Pat.

In my email...

The Tucker Sling wants to know: "Could your baby have acid reflux?" I don't think so.

No phone yet. AT&T repair guy is supposed to come today. I hope he's not expecting me to be there. I'm 99% sure whatever the problem is, it's outside the house, so presumably I don't need to be there. I guess if he can't resolve things outside, they'll make an appt to come out when I can be there so they can come check things inside. Let's hope it doesn't come to that. However, things rarely get resolved for me the first time and in the most convenient way. So, we shall see.

Sidenote to the problem of no phone: I just listed my car on Craigslist yesterday. And I put my home phone, banking on the home phone being up and running today. Which it isn't. I don't like handing out my cell phone number to the masses. So, one more reason this needs to be resolved. If you're in the market for a 2002 Cougar, though, lemme know. It just had a brake job!!

Oh, well...yeah

So, my boyfriend came over last night and we decided to tackle the DSL problem. Because we're problem solvers. Both of us. And between the two of us, this problem could be solved. What problem couldn't we solve, I ask you?

I searched until I found the paperwork for my DSL service, cleverly hidden in a box under my desk. I'm such a minx, hiding things from myself like that. It wasn't in the least annoying as f*ck looking everywhere for it - like in my files related to my computer.

We did the troubleshooting stuff. Nothing. No change. So, we re-launched the set-up CD, which is also not in the least annoying as f*ck what with the screen that launches being too small and the buttons you need to click on to advance through the set-up being located outside the viewable area and there being no way to scroll the page down. What could possibly be aggravating about that?

But we limped through the CD, doing our best. At a certain point, the instructions said that if you still didn't have a DSL signal, to call customer care. Boyfriend passed me the phone and exited the office at this point. Only one of us could talk to AT&T (I think they frown if you put them on speaker phone and have more than one person yelling at them at a time), and since I'm the one who knows the passwords and such for my computer (in theory, anyway), it made sense for me to take over. And yet...I am computer stupid, so this can lead nowhere good.

I spent a fair amount of time on the phone with the tech guy. He couldn't figure it out. The signal leading into the house was dead as a doornail. He'd have to pass me to a maintenance guy (I pictured a man with a drill and a blue shirt with his name embroidered on it, and I was unconvinced he'd be able to help me). He did.

Maintenance Guy and I talked a bit, then to do more trouble-shooting he thought we should check the filters on all my phone lines. I was to go to each phone, pick it up, and see if I had noticeable static on any of them. I actually only have two hard line telephones, so this didn't take long - particularly after I picked up the second one and noticed what I'd been too oblivious to notice when I picked up the first one. See, I was listening for static. There wasn't any on the first phone. Or the second. There wasn't any static...or...(wait for it)...a dial tone.

Yes, campers, my phone is out. According to my caller ID, and recollections by Boyfriend and me as to when I first noticed the DSL was out, my freakin' phone has been out FOR A WEEK and I only figured it out last night!! It's possible I may be more than "computer" stupid.

Turkey and football and tv, oh my!

Lots to catch up on, so I guess I'd better get to it!

Turkey Day. Had a great time with the fam. Lots of good food, and the cool weather was perfecto. It was rainy, which was less fun than just simple cold, but at least it felt like Thanksgiving, so I won't complain. I have discovered the best way to handle my portion of the Thanksgiving cooking, and that is to do it at my house the night before (depending on what I'm making of course), and then arrive with my stuff already cooked and ready to go. I don't have to enter the kitchen at all on the day of the actual feast. This is especially important at my mom's house where the kitchen was apparently built as a one-person operation.

Football. Football overall was enjoyable. However. The UT game was agony, and I don't quite now how I managed to watch through to the end. Colt, baby, you're going to have to step it up and be more of a leader. Receivers, one and all, you've got to catch the ball. That's all. You have to catch it. Defensive tackles, look at the name of your position. It involves two words, the most important of which is the second word. We're going to have to figure out what kind of tackling fuel you all need, because if this happens again next year, I'm going to have a stroke. Mack, figure it out, bud. I can't take this.

Volleyball. For those who don't know, the UT volleyball team clinched a share of the Big 12 title on Saturday night with a 3 and out match against K State. Well done, ladies!

Amazing Race. It's official. I'm rooting for the brother and sister team that held onto the lead this week and for the Goths. I like the Goths. I really do. It was awesome what Vixsen (sp?) said about looking around, even in the midst of a million-dollar race, and recognizing the need and kindness of the people around them. I'm rooting against the Barbies, and though I like Kris, I still want Ron to go away, so that's a team I can't root for. The rest all kind of run together for me right now. I did find the demeanor of the team that got eliminated really good. That girl has got herself a good man - I hope they make a go of it.

And I guess that's it for now! Sorry for being incommunicado during the holidays. My DSL is down at home, and when it comes to computer stuff, I'm about as handy as a sock, so I've got to try and figure out how to get it up and running again. Wish me luck! Or, you know...come over and fix it for me.

Pearl of wisdom

Insane week, so just not much time to post, but I saw this little gem today and just had to share:

"Money can't buy happiness, but somehow it's more comfortable to cry in a Porsche than in a Kia."

Amen.

Have a great Thanksgiving everyone!

Good god I'm tired.

I've always been up front about my love of sleep and my dependence on sleep to function. I've often said that one of my greatest fears of motherhood would be the endless months of interrupted and scarce sleep. I don't even want to know what kind of psychopath that would turn me into.

But I got enough sleep last night, and I still feel like I was up all night. I'm exhausted. I came down with a little sumpin' sumpin' this weekend, and I guess the combination of my body fighting the infection and the fact that I'm supposed to avoid caffeine (among other things, but it's the caffeine that's kicking my butt) for a few days until the antibiotics can really do some damage has just freakin' zapped me.

I swear you never realize how much energy you walk around with on a normal day until you don't have it one day. And it takes so little to just throw how your whole operation into disarray.

I accidentally cheated just a little at lunch. I bought some chocolate milk. It's the whole milk kind all loaded up with chocolatey goodness. It tastes like God made it himself and wanted me to have it so I'd feel better. If not for the 5,000 calories and fat grams (and the Borden label), I'd fight you if you told me differently. But I'd probably fall asleep in mid-punch, so that's not really much of a threat. In any case, I forgot until I'd drunken half of it that chocolate has caffeine in it. Bugger.

Oh well. Give me another 24 hours, and I think I'll be back up to snuff. What does that mean, anyway? Snuff is tobacco, right - like sniffing a cigarette? Why does "up to snuff" mean that you've met a standard? Is there some alternate meaning I'm not aware of? I guess I could Google it and find out. But I'm too tired to bother.

New phone

The cell phone switch has occurred!

As of yesterday, I am now a Verizon customer. I was with T-Mobile for about 8 years, and I really gave them a lot of time to iron out the issues I had with them, but apparently they didn't feel compelled to plug the iron in, so I have finally moved on.

For anyone who doesn't call me on my cell phone on a regular basis, here's the low-down on my T-Mobile experience. For several years, when I lived in an apartment, all was well. The number of minutes I got for the price I paid with T-Mobile was better than anyone else around. I had nationwide roaming, so I never paid long-distance, even when I traveled. And I was in a long-distance relationship for most of that time, so cell minutes and a nationwide "home area" was prime. I was satisfied.

Oh sure, I noticed when I would travel that I was frequently without service. Much of that travel was with my long-distance boyfriend who had Verizon, and he always seemed to have a signal, even when I didn't. But hey - I was home more than I traveled, so no big deal. And if I was in the mountains in New Mexico or something, I could use a calling card. Really - no big deal.

Then I moved into my house. When I first moved in, my phone had virtually no signal inside the house. I had to stand in the backyard, which was a dirt pit for the first 6 months, when I wanted enough signal to talk to anyone. Did I mention I moved into my house in December? You try standing outside in January for any length of time and see how satisfying your phone calls are.

Suddenly, though, after the first 6 months, I had a full signal. Voila! Okay, good. That's overwith. I had that fine signal for about a year. And then, as suddenly as it appeared, it went away. Poof! No more signal. I called T-Mobile - asked what was going on, what could we do? Oh, they had new towers coming online - sometime in the next 6 months! All would be well again! And in the meantime, they'd give me extra minutes! "But I can't use the ones I have now. You seem to be missing the point - I can't use the phone when I'm home."

They were not to be swayed, though. After all, it costs them nothing to offer me minutes they know I can't use. The seeds of discontent were now officially planted. I waited 6 months. I never used the extra minutes. I never got a new signal.

Why, you must be asking, did I wait, then, another 3 years to switch? Laziness - pure and simple. I did try upgrading my phone about a year and a half ago. Maybe a better unit would solve the problem, they told me. They lied. The new phone did nothing to solve it and just locked me into another year with them.

That year was up at the end of March. Unfortunately, I was planning on quitting my job at that time and didn't want to obligate myself to any new bills. I could go month-to-month with TM until I was sure I'd settled somewhere, and then I could get a new phone and new service. And that's what finally happened.

After a few months of not being sure about my new job, things finally settled down, and I decided I was ready to commit to a new contract with a new company. So, Verizon it is! I kept my old phone number, so no need to learn a new number. I'll pay about $10 more with my new plan, but I get more bells and whistles and my new phone rocks the free world. This is it. Mine is black. It's not one of the free phones, but I love it. I may decide to have its babies. You never know about me.

More evidence of the decline

Santas in Sydney, Australia have been encouraged not to say "ho, ho, ho" because it might offend women.

I don't even know how to resp-...I mean what do you say to-...it's just so...are you kid-...I have to go lie down...

To lawyer up or not to lawyer up? That is the question.

So, the latest in my saga with traffic tickets is I got a letter in the mail the other day from a lawyer here in town who wants to help me with the speeding ticket I got a couple of weeks ago (me personally - it says he trolls Austin Municipal Court dockets looking for people with tickets, but I think he saw my ticket pop up and understood immediately the injustice that's been perpetrated upon me in recent months by Austin P.D. and felt moved to offer his assistance in a personal and direct way).

This guy says that if I pay him to handle it, I basically don't have to do anything. I don't have to go to court and may not even have to go to his office. Presumably I just write a check and let him do everything.

Normally, I might ask why I should pay a lawyer to handle it when I could fight the battle myself for free. BUT I have a couple of hurdles with that. First, my appearance date is Nov. 30 - that's the deadline for either paying the fine or requesting a court date. Preumably, if I request a court date to fight the ticket, that date would be set for December. My employer isn't terribly generous with time off, and I'm already scheduled to take a bunch of hours off in December, so the prospect of requesting even more hours to sit in court isn't terribly appealing.

Second, while I feel there are arguments to be made in my case, I don't know which ones would be most effective - I haven't had a speeding ticket in about 5 years, so I'm a little rusty with the whole process. I don't want to go in and try to argue the thing and make things worse. Traffic tickets are what this guy does all day everyday. So, why not let him have a crack at it?

Yes, it would cost me to have him handle it (I'm not sure how much yet - I haven't talked to him yet). But it'll also cost me if the ticket goes on my record. Tickets raise your insurance. I'm about to buy a new car, which will raise my insurance as it is, so the last thing I need is something to jack it up even more. I might be money ahead to pay this guy and save the hit on my insurance.

So, I'm going to talk to the guy and see how it works, and I'll let you know if I decide to use him and how it all turns out. If anyone has any experience letting a lawyer take care of their ticket for them, I'd love to hear how it worked out for you.

An idea for Thanksgiving.

If they ever make a sequel to Office Space, they need to include something about the obligatory Thanksgiving meal. Every office I've worked in does some kind of Thanksgiving feast for the employees. Sometimes, the company pays (always nice). Sometimes it's potluck (the company usually supplies the bird). And sometimes they cater it and expect you to pay to participate (give me a break).

The set-up can be more or less annoying, but the real problem isn't how they arrange it. It's the fact of it. It's nice that they want to do something for the employees. It is, and I appreciate it. But these company Thanksgiving meals are always held within two weeks, and usually a mere week, of the real Thanksgiving. And they are *always* a traditional Thanksgiving meal.

For those of you not connecting the dots, that means that a week, sometimes only days, before I'm going to eat a full-on Thanksgiving meal with my family, on the actual holiday, I'm stuck eating that EXACT SAME FOOD, food you're only supposed to be diving into once a year, with my co-workers. And it's highly likely that much of it won't even be as good as what I'm going to get with my family.

At my current job, they're holding the annual office feast TWO DAYS before actual Thanksgiving! Who does that???

So, here's what I propose. From now on, when offices want to give their employees a little shout-out to celebrate Thanksgiving, which is admirable, make it a point to serve non-traditional food. Poll your employees. See what they want. Italian? Mexican? A foot-long from Subway? Whatevuh. Just don't force them to eat the same food they're going to eat with their families in a few days or risk being labeled as an unsocial non-team-player for not joining in the feast.

And if you'd like your employees to really appreciate you, have an open bar. That's something they probably wish they'd be having with their real family.

TAR, Week 2

I actually watched the whole episode of The Amazing Race last night, so I am ready to comment cogently! Let me start by saying that it's still a little early for me to have found teams to root for or against this season, but a few are edging forward.

As usual, we have a Barbie team, and I wanted to slap them on sight (when they showed the one diligently applying lip gloss as they waited for the bus, I wanted to grab it from her, snap it in half and throw it on the pavement - don't ask me why, I just did). And I think I'm going to hate Ron really soon. Within the first 15 minutes, I was already just about yelling everytime they showed him badgering Chris. By the end of the show, I wanted someone to staple his mouth shut. He seriously needs to shutty.

On the "like" side, I don't have anyone I'm totally rooting for yet, but I'm finding myself suprisingly liking the goths. They work really hard and work nicely as a team and they cracked me up a couple of times. When Kynt said, "I'm kind of a prissy boy" when he didn't want to do the ditch vault, that made me laugh. God love honesty. So, let's get to the action!

First leg: Fly from Dublin to Amsterdam.
This was pretty straightforward - the only real drama was from Ron. When he went off on Nick because Nick was pushy with the ticket clerk, my jaw dropped. Yo - Ron. Dude. You're not Nick's dad, and I'm pretty sure that unlike obedient, patient, sweet little Chris, he would've stabbed you in the chest 2 years ago if he were...and the jury would've let him off. Step the frig off.

Detour: Hoist It or Hunt It.
While I have a pretty keen eye, I think I would've gone with the hoist it. It's right there and barring any catastrophes, it would go faster than the bike thing. The only thing is I don't know jack about knots, so I'd probably have to be the one at the top hoisting the furniture in through the window - I know, that's the cush part. But I wouldn't pepper the person down below with useless advice on how to do the knots, so that would automatically make me a better partner than half the people we saw last night. Oh, and did anyone hear Jennifer when she said, "Oh my (bleeping) gosh!" Um, honey, if you've been bleeped for what was probably the f-word, you can probably just go on and say God instead of gosh. The ship has sailed at that point on your language.

Roadblock: Ditch Vault.
I could have totally done this. And my favorite moment of the show came during this segment. No, it wasn't when Grandpa stripped down to his undies. I could've done without that. It was when Shana ate it. Lipgloss doesn't help much when you're chest-deep in a black bog, does it, sweetie? Awesome. (Shout out to the gods for that.) This segment is also where Ron and I would've thrown down. When he said to Chris, "You need to lose some weight" I'm pretty sure I would've told him, "And you need to shut your mouth, old man, before I take you the fuck out." That's presuming I hadn't already beaten him to death with the vaulting pole at the bog. WOW does that guy make me thank God for my own father.

Pit Stop.
Lorena and Jason won this leg. That's cool. Like I said, I don't have a favorite team yet, and they seem fine. I kind of liked Kate and Pat, so too bad they're gone so soon, but I can't say I'm surprised. They weren't really built to last in a contest like this. Nick and Don will probably be gone fairly soon, too. Grandpa isn't going to be able to keep up. I'm not sure who else yet is likely to make a quick exit, but it looks like we've got some meltdowns coming next week. That should be interesting.

It comes in threes, right?

Okay, I've got yet another home-related repair on deck. I'm counting the $900 I spent on my car a couple of weeks ago as a home-related repair, mostly because...well...the car lives in the garage.

First it was the washer, then the car, and now my back door. I tried to shut the door the other night, and it closed, but it wouldn't lock. I started looking at the locking mechanism trying to see how it's supposed to work and why it wouldn't anymore, and I could see where a screw had either broken or come loose or something, and that seemed to have caused another part to not be in place, which in turn prevented the lock from moving into position.

I decided to see if I could fix it, which is always a great idea when it's late and you're tired. Sure enough, when I took it all apart, two parts fell down inside the door, never to be seen again. Fantastic.

So, yesterday I went to Lowe's and talked to the Lowe's Door Guy and we decided I could probably fix it myself (he said I seem like I'm "creative," which is not the same as being "handy," and I think you need to be "handy" to fix things, but maybe he sensed that if I screwed it up, I'd curse creatively and blog about it and he wanted to encourage that). I bought a new lock, which is actually better than my old one, because it has a handle instead of trying to cram your fingers into a little recessed box to pull the door open and shut. And he showed me how to take the door off of its tracks in case I needed to do that.

After owning a home for 5 years now, I recognize that what took him 10 seconds will likely take me 2 hours and lot of f-bombs, so I'm going to try not to take it off the tracks and just fix it in place. I appreciate his confidence that in the event I got the door down, I could actually get it back up again, but if that can at all be avoided, that'd be supah.

So, wish me luck that in the process of fixing the lock, I don't destroy something else. And cross you fingers for me that this is it on the repair front for a while. I'm ready to spend both my time and money on other pursuits.

I think it all started with gold teeth.

A bunch of people with absolutely no sense of what's important in life created the world's most expensive dessert - a $25,000 chocolate sundae.

Just for the record, you could send a kid to college for an entire year for that. At some schools, that would be tuition AND living expenses. Don't ask me for a list of what those schools are. I don't have a kid, which means I don't have to know that kind of stuff. But you get the point.

This vital concoction is made of 28 cocoas, including some of the most expensive and exotic from around the world (because God knows Hershey's doesn't appeal to anyone), and edible gold. Read that again, in case you missed it. I said *edible gold.* Can ANYONE tell me the point of that? I'm not even sure what that means. I'm sure it involves science and metal content and some sort of extraction method, yadda, yadda, yadda. In the end, we come back to the fact that someone somewhere thought people should be able to eat gold. There's literally only one response to that: why?

The effort to create the sundae - truly an amazing use of human potential - was launched in response to some chef coming up with a $1,000 bagel. The proceeds from the sale of that bagel will help raise funds for culinary scholarships, presumably so we can have more such ridiculous food. I think if there ARE actual sales, it just goes to show that some people are too stupid to have money, and it's not necessary for the government to redistribute wealth, because left to our own devices, we'll do it ourselves.

I am suddenly hungry for a bagel, though, now.

Minutiae.

Blogging. Blog. Ing. Blooooooogging. BloggING. Buh-lah-ging.

What, oh, what to write about? Sooooo much nothingness in my head today.

Let's see. How about an inventory of my desk? I won't do my actual desk - just my computer desk. GO!

1. A small lamp.
2. My computer and mouse.
3. A little stuffed Aflac duck that quacks if I squeeze it.
4. Two speakers.
5. A postcard advertising a party that an ad agency in my office building is throwing on Thursday. Martinis and food will be served.
6. A pin for some old program that my company used to sponsor.
7. A stuffed mouse cat toy (Significance: It's a reminder of the "Who Moved My Cheese?" book - a tangible object to remind me to always be in the process of assessing if where I am is where I need to be and to not be afraid to step out of the familiar to find happiness. The only way to find happiness is to look for it and tend to it. Change is constant. Adapt to make your life work. Are you inspired?)
8. A Caribou Coffee "Caramel High Rise" granola bar, i.e. heaven in a foil packet.
9. A coffee cup filled with delicious java.
10. A pencil.
11. A card with the name of my new cell phone, which I need to order.
12. A kleenex.
13. A little contraption to hold a piece of paper vertical for me when I need to work from that paper while doing something on my computer.

I realize no actual work product is listed here, but I really do do stuff. Pieces of actual work - papers involving things I actually do - move from this desk to my actual desk and in and out of files in a constant stream. It's like a hurricane of efficiency!! Watch out!! You don't want to get a paper cut.

Where are my shells?

Okay, I'm going to do a little shotgun blogging today.

1. The weather. We had a cold front roll through last night. That. Rocks. It's in the 50s, and I'm wearing a sweater. Not that I couldn't have gotten by with, say, a long-sleeved shirt, but I like sweaters, so at the warmest acceptable temperature, I wear them. By tomorrow, it will be in the 60s, slowly climbing back up to the 80s by the weekend. So today was my only shot at sweater weather. Tomorrow will still be cool enough for boots, though, so I'll have to make that happen.

2. Heroes. Ang, you gotta be happy - they're transforming Hiro away from the goofy personality and more to the samurai one. Right at the end, there was a bit of the goof, but the transformation is clearly under way, so I think you can probably stand to watch it again. Have you even been watching this season? They waited so long to start back up, they almost lost me. But please. Those people are all just too beautiful and bad-ass not to stare at for an hour. Makes me want to take a martial arts class. Seriously.

3. Wurstfest. Good lawd-a-mighty, people, the 10-Day Salute to Sausage is under way! Vanessa damaged some brain cells there last weekend, and Judy and fam have already eaten their way through most of the tents (and nearly lost it all on the rides) - I am BEHIND!! My peeps and I always hit it on the last Saturday night, though, and tradition is tradition. So, this weekend, after I watch the Horns atone for last week's ridiculous performance against Oklahoma State, I'll slap on my liederhosen and head south for some delicious frosty adult beverage and meat on a stick. If we can just find an oompah band to play "Play that funky music white boy." Oy! Oy! Oy!

4. Red-light cameras. Austin is installing them as we speak. Big Brother is watching. It's for "safety." Right. I'm sure that's exactly it. I'm sure it will in no way become a cash cow for the city. They swear the money is going to go into some traffic-safety fund...presumably for more red-light cameras. Can I be the auditor tracking where those funds go - every cent? Can you be ticketed if you flip them off - every single time you pass by one? Because I'd like to. Why not just fit us all with sensors that watch our every move so that if we commit any infraction of the law at any time, we can just be fined immediately? Whoa! She just littered. Fine automatically deducted from her bank account. Then we can all be safe and properly abiding by the law like we're supposed to - good little robots.

5. Got a speeding ticket last week. I'm sure I was speeding, but not as fast as the cop said. He says he radared me, but he was *in front* of me the whole time. Plus he wrote the actual ticket for a slower speed than he says he clocked me. I burned my once-a-year-defensive-driving on a BOGUS ticket a month or two ago (everyone told me to contest it, but I was lazy and took DD - now I can't take it for something I actually did). So, the question: do I take the ticket to court, hope the cop doesn't show up or try to argue that I question the infraction? Or do I suck it up and pay it and let the conviction sit on my record for 3 years? What would you do?

It's baaaaack!

The Amazing Race is back! Fannnnnnnntastic!

Unfortunately for anyone who had hoped for one my fabulous breakdowns of teams and action, I actually missed the first half of the show and couldn't get enough of a sense of the teams with the last bit that I saw to really comment. I saw yesterday that the show was starting back up, but I hadn't realized it would start last night, so I didn't tune in until 8:00, when it was about halfway through. So any commentary from those of you out there who actually watched will be appreciated, and I'll leap in next week.

The only thing that stood out to me in the little I watched was the Marilyn Manson team. But I'll have to see more of them before I decide to say anything about them, except that I'm pretty sure if this season goes someplace like Africa, they're going to be stoned to death in the streets by scared villagers.

Great weekend. The Horns scared me half to death. A win in the last 2 seconds is a win, but really guys...I mean...really. Though I will say that the refs at that game should have their bank accounts checked. I couldn't even belief the freakin' calls. A review and a reversal on a NON-call??? Wow. Just...wow.

Saw some of my girly-o's last night and enjoyed that. And a big shout out to the best part of the weekend - you know who you are. Blog mention - an achievement of great distinction. You're not going to get cocky on me now, are you?

Oh, and stay tuned for a rant about my cell phone situation. I've been muy dissatisfied with that for quite a while, and I decided over the last week that the time has come to make a change. F-ing T-Mobile cut me off *3* times yesterday afternoon during one 20-minute phone call. I was ready to throw the phone out the window. I already know what switch I want to make, though, so I only have to put up with T-Mobile for a small bit longer and was able to restrain myself. I'll keep you all advised, because I know you're deeply affected.

Hero, or close enough

I'm starting a new category to periodically visit here in the blog. It's called, "Spam in my email." In today's installment, Diedre Whitehead wants to know if I "Want it to hang?" No, Diedre. I don't.

Moving on. The ASPCA gave out some awards to hero pets yesterday. Did I ever tell you my hero cat story? I don't believe I did. Grab a cup of coffee and prepare to be enthralled and amazed.

A few years ago, I was housesitting for my parents. They had two cats at the time: an indoor/outdoor cat named Domino (black and white) and an outdoor cat named Sammy (all black). Dommie always slept inside in my parents' room, and he really didn't like to sleep in the guest rooms. Their guest rooms are on another floor, and maybe he didn't like to be downstairs or something. I don't know. But while housesitting, I slept in their room so he'd have some company.

Well, one night, about 1:00 a.m., he starts meowing from the doorway. It woke me up, and at first I tried to ignore it, thinking if he thought I was asleep, he'd stop. He didn't. So, then I tried to being stern. I raised up, found the blob where the sound was coming from (I'm blind without my glasses, and I wasn't putting on my glasses - I might wake up too much), and told him to hush in tough tone. He kept meowing. Okay. So, then I patted the bed and tried to get him to come to me - "Maybe he wants some lovin'," I thought. No dice. Kept meowing - really insistently.

Finally, I gave up, turned on the light and put on my glasses. It wasn't Domino! It was Sammy! WTF? How is Sammy in the house, and why is he all the way up upstairs in the bedoroom???? This cat barely lets his paws touch the tile in the entry - he *never* comes all the way inside, much less upstairs.

So, I got up, and started to go to him, thinking he might be hurt or something, but still totally confused how he was even in the house. As I approached, he ran away, but kept stopping to look back - trying to get me to follow him. When I finally reached the stairs and looked down, the front door was wide open!

Presumably, the door had blown open with a cold front that had blown in that night. And Sammy knew it shouldn't be open, and he knew I was in the house alone, and I shit you not, that cat went completely against his natural instinct and came inside and upstairs to wake me to show me that the door was open! Can you believe that???

As soon as I saw that it was open and reacted, he ran outside and didn't come back in, and for the record, I've never seen him come inside voluntarily since then. Of course, I was way too freaked out then to stay in the house by myself the rest of the night. I'm sorry, but I'm a Houston girl. The very idea of sleeping with the doors unlocked, much less open, is ludicrous to a Houston girl. Why not just sleep in the front yard with all your valuables on the sidewalk? Am I right, Judy?

I checked the whole house, but I knew there was no way I'd really be sure that no one had come in while the door was wide open and I was sleeping, so I packed up my stuff and drove home in the middle of the night. But hey - at least I slept the rest of the night in peace.

Sammy, however, earned himself the moniker "Sammy The Wonder Cat" that night. And that's my hero cat story.

What happened to fun?

Did you all have a nice Halloween? I had a *great* Halloween. I guarantee you that none of you enjoyed your Halloween more than I enjoyed mine. But that's all you get - you'll just have to imagine what I might've been up to. As Salt n Pepa say, "It's none a yo bizness!!" So why blog it? Why toss out the morsel but not give you the meal? Because that's how I roll. (I'm doing what looks like some kind of hip-hop, gang sign thing right now. Imagine that, too.) Word.

Okay, so what AM I willing to talk about? Hmmmm. Let's see. Let's talk about the decline of modern civilization - particularly with respect to cherished American holidays that are being butchered.

Case in point: Halloween parties in schools. Seems the trend now is to call them "Fall Festivals" and the kids can't wear scary Halloween costumes - presumably they all have to dress up as pumpkins and princesses. How freakin' lame. Let's see if I can say this clearly enough for all the PC folks and religious fanatics: Halloween is not evil. It's not a celebration of evil. It's not an invitation for evil. It's not Armageddon come to Mayberry. Please do not preach to me about how it started or how it glorifies the devil or demons or any of that garbage. I'm not even listening. In fact, I'm covering my ears. "I'm not going to listen to this...I'm not going to listen to this..." (Anyone recognize the movie reference/clip? Another of my obscure favorites, and if you know it, you rock.)

Halloween is one day a year where the kids (and adults if you're cool enough) get to dress up and pretend to be whatever character their heart desires, and not only do they get to ask without shame for a cache of candy - they're *supposed* to! It's FUN. Not evil - FUN. If "scary" is thrown into the mix, all the better, because we all like to get scared. That's why roller coasters and horror movies do so well. Lighten the frig up. You shouldn't worry if you're 8-year-old wants to pretend to be a goblin for Halloween. You should worry if he/she wants to be Lindsay Lohan (unless he/she is making fun of LiLo, in which case you praise them for the wry social commentary). K?

I guess our next stop is Thanksgiving, where we all try to pretend its about turkey and not being grateful for the country we live in.

Is all that too bitter? Okay, here - to lighten the mood. I want to work at this office. Oh wait...I kinda do.

Okay, nobody move.

Nothing can happen today. Okay?

No one can ask me to make or change plans of any kind. No one can ask me for any information, such as passwords, addresses, phone numbers, etc. There can be no movement in my finances, and nothing can occur that would require me to take notes. Everyone needs to just stay verrrrrry still.

Because I left my daytimer at home today. In fact, I left my whole briefcase at home (I use the term "briefcase" very loosely - it's a bag with all my stuff in it. But it has handles.). I'm practically naked and blind without my daytimer. I carry almost no data in my brain anymore because between my cell phone, my laptop and my daytimer, I don't need to. I'm an empty vessel. All kinds of room in there for things like thinking and laughing since very little storage is needed.

But this morning, I was distracted when I left the house, and I walked right out the door without it. I realized it when I got to work and there was nothing for me to carry up to my office. I tried to think for a moment about the ramifications, but without the daytimer to point them out to me, I couldn't be sure. So, I wandered up to the office, a lost soul, clutching my cell phone. "At least I have that," I repeated, over and over to soothe myself, looking at it periodically to be sure.

Oh, wait, I just remembered - it's Halloween. Happy Halloween everyone! (I would've known that before I started this post if I'd had my daytimer.)

Back in the saddle

I'm back in the Cougar. Thangod.

The transaction to get my car back was much easier than the one to drop it off. First off, when I returned the rental car, the guy who checked me out only charged me for a couple of extra hours instead of an entire extra day, so that was nice - saved me some pennies there. Then he drove me over to the garage and actually knew where it was, so that was good.

The final charge at the garage, plus the rental charge was less than four figures, so I'm happy about that. The service manager at the garage almost threw a monkey wrench into what was a nicely flowing transaction, though. I guess he was the only one left at the garage, so he wanted to chat. He asked what I do for a living, then wanted to talk about politics and taxes and consultants. I was flattered he found me an interesting person to converse with, but what I wanted to say was, "I'm tired, traffic is building, and quite frankly, I've been driving a white Ford Focus for four days. If I don't get behind the wheel of something with at least 6 cylinders and a clutch in the next two minutes, something in my DNA is going to shift."

But you know me - I was polite and chatted it up for a few minutes. Then I got to my car and drove like a bat out of hell all the way home with a CD cranked, feeling like my training wheels had been taken off. I do love to drive. Clutch, first, accelerate, ease off with your left foot, feel the thing catch, hear the engine growl, SHIFT! with a flick of the wrist - that's all, don't grab it like you're going to rip it off - just push it with your fingertips into second gear, because it wants to go there anyway. Do it all again, SHIFT! Turn up the music. SHIFT! Then finally, hit fifth gear, and go, baby, go. When it's time to slow down, just drop it into neutral and ease it down with the brake. That's all - let it glide to an idling stop.

I had toyed with the idea of buying an automatic next time. Sometimes you need to toss the keys to someone else, and not everyone can drive a stick. But I don't know if I can do it. Not everyone can cook either, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't.

Ees goot day

Okay, I'm still not recovered from staying out too late on Saturday - I went to bed a little early last night, but apparently not early enough. And I'm having allergy issues, so mostly I want to go home and lay on the couch. But aside from that, it's shaping up to be a good day.

The garage expects to have my car ready by the end of the day, so God willing, I'll be back in the Cougar after work today - woohoo! My rental is fine, but I hate driving a car I'm unfamiliar with. I don't know where all the controls are, and my touch on the brakes isn't right (the Cougar is a stick, so if I forget and use my left foot to break on an automatic, I nearly throw myself and all passengers through the windshield), and I don't have my tunes, and well...it's just not my own little automotive home. So, I'll be happy to be back in the saddle tonight. And then in a month or so, I'll get a new saddle.

The weather is awesome. MAN I love this time of year! Football, volleyball, holiday parties beginning, the chance to wear sweaters, starting to think about Christmas gifts for people (Notice I didn't say buying - just thinking about it. I love thinking about what would be a great gift for someone. The buying comes closer to the season.), sitting out on the patio at all happy hours and dinners possible - it's heaven. Love it.

My stocks are up. My "for fun" portfolio has been in the black for quite a while. Even though a few of the ones I've got right now are clunkers, a few others are super stars, so the portfolio as a whole is rockin' and rollin'. Especially lately it's been really performing well. I first started picking the stocks in June, adding a few here and there, and at the moment, the entire portfolio is up almost 33%. It's like winning a game or something. Except that if I cash out, I get actual cash. But I'm going to try to go long-term to keep the capital gains taxes down, so no cashing out yet! Hopefully, if there's a downturn, I'll be quick enough to bail before I lose anything, but I went into it knowing I could lose it all, so much like a slot machine, I'm takin' my chances!

Speaking of slot machines, I saw Tuna Does Vegas last night - the next installment of the Tuna series of shows. As usual, I laughed often and felt the strangely familiar feeling that certain members of my family were on stage. Those shows are an absolute must if you're from Texas - particularly if you're more than one generation invested and at least some of your relatives don't live in one of the state's big cities. I've blogged about the Tuna shows before, though, so I'll leave it at that.

So, for many reasons, it's a good day despite my feeling like crap. With any luck, I'll make it through the day without falling asleep on my keyboard. I'm going to guess that's frowned upon.

But...it was just a whirring sound.

Crime in Italy, I should've sold the beloved Cougar a month ago. Or two months ago or whatever. I just shouldn't still be owning it at this moment.

Last week I noticed a whirring sound under the hood. Not awful - not that horrible screaming sound that a loose belt makes. Just a whirring. "I should get that looked at," I thought.

I chatted with the folks to see when it might be convenient for me to borrow one of their cars so I could take mine to the shop. Seemed like it wouldn't be convenient for a couple of weeks, so no problem. I can ignore the whirring sound in the meantime. Just turn up the radio, right?

Well, the whirring got way more insistent around Thursday. That made me nervous. Friday morning, it did it all the way to work. Okay, that's it - if I drive the thing all weekend like that, I'll probably melt the flux capacitor or something. So, I took it to the shop at lunch and grabbed a rental car. Don't even get me started on the renting fiasco. It involved some guy who doesn't speak English being sent to pick me up, and no one seeming to know where the garage was...two blocks away.

Anyhoo, the garage called me Friday afternoon. To fix the whirring, a new water pump and belts of some kind will be ordered at a cost of $500 and something. Ouch. Add $100 plus for renting the rental car for 4 days. Oh, and there was also, "Ma'am when did you last have a brake job?" Um....never. Yeah, my car has 94,000 miles on it. The guy at the garage was incredulous that I had any brakes left at all. So, ring up another $275 or so for new brakes. That brings us to about $1,000.

Sir...I think you must've misheard me. It was just a whirring sound.

So, after I've emptied my bank account for the damn whirring sound, I'm going to give it a couple of months, then we're off to incur a new car payment. I've already picked out my new car, but apparently you actually have to go and purchase it before they'll let you start driving it, so after I've gotten at least a few miles from the $1,000 I'm putting into the Cougar, I'll make that happen.

In the meantime, I'm stylin' up Austin in a white 4-door Ford Focus. Don't be jealous.

It doesn't get any easier, little one

My co-worker has an 8-year-old son, and he is learning the things of love (Hey, I had my first crush in pre-school. His name was James, and he was dreeeeeeamy!).

Two weeks ago, he told my co-worker about his lady love (we'll call her Nancy) while they were riding in the car. After extolling her many virtues and informing my co-worker and that he and Nancy were going to get married one day, he fell silent for a few moments, looked wistfully out the window and said, "If only Nancy lived on our street. I'd go over to her house, knock on the door, and we'd play all day." The stuff of dreams.

Alas, the dream is over. Riding home yesterday, he was irritable. He complained about the street sounds coming through my co-worker's sunroof and informed her that he couldn't relax with all that noise. He was grumpy. When they got home, he came clean. "Mamma, I'm not just upset about the noise." And then he told her the sad news that Nancy had broken up with him. Many tears were shed.

It seems that the other kids had made fun of Son and Nancy over the two-week tenure of their romance, and their love could not survive the onslaught. I wish I could tell Son that love gets easier, but I'd be lying. (sigh)

Oh, that "growing up" thing is hard!!

Spike, don't shuck!

In case you've all been selfishly immersing yourself in your own lives and not paying attention to the coolest women's sport around (college volleyball) today, the Longhorn women put a hurt on the Nebraska Cornhuskers last night, the likes of which they haven't seen since the women who played were in elementary school. Das right - they gotta whole lotta Longhorn all up in their grills!

To clarify, the #5 Longhorn volleyball team swept the #1 Huskers last night, and that's the first time since 1997 that the Huskers have been swept. 1, 2, 3 - there's the bus, ladies! And I was there. :) BOO! And YAH!!!

HOOK 'EM HORNS!!!

Updates

I thought I'd take time to update you on some of the subjects brought up on the blog recently. I mention things, and then you don't always hear how things turn out. So, here's where some things stand:

1. Neti Pot - I bought one. It was only $14, so I figured it was worth a try. I haven't actually tried it, though. If I don't drown myself, I'll let you know how effective it is for me.

2. Shirley MacLaine - I'm assuming still nutty.

3. Pushing Daisies - still lovin' it.

4. The Longhorns - rebounding, much to my relief. We won't be in any national championship games, I don't believe, but if we maintain for the rest of the season, we'll get a bowl game and end with a respectable ranking.

5. Pam Anderson - still married. Stay tuned.

6. Mouse hunt - I never caught any mice in the traps I bought, but I also haven't seen them or much new evidence of them, so maybe they found out I didn't want them around and got offended and left. That's a tactic the pesticide industry doesn't want you to know about - shunning.

7. Neighbors - neighbor finished spray-painting truck dark green. It looks like a truck that's been spray-painted dark green. He moved on to a project that involved staking out the property line between us in the front yard. This caused me grave concern. So, I asked him what he was planning on doing. With limited English proficiency he indicated that he's going to plant some kind of purple plant - presumably a number of them since he showed me one and they're not that big (at least so far) and it looks like he's aiming for the entire length of the property line. I hope they're not going to grow very big because I have an oleander shrub/tree on the side of the house bordering his yard, and the tree is huge. If those plants end up forming some kind of giant hedge, I'm going to have trouble mowing around that tree. At least he takes care of his yard, though. His lawn looks much better than mine, what with my "You've been planted - good luck to you" attitude about lawncare.

Anything else you've been wondering about?

Look up

The space station and the space shuttle both flew over Austin tonight - or I should say they were visible as they flew over tonight. I suppose they (or at least the space station) fly over Austin all the time. You just can't see them.

But tonight, you could see them. Or more specifically, *I* could see them! And I DID see them!!! Usually, I hear that one or the other is going to pass by, but then I forget by the time it happens. But tonight I set an alarm for each one. See, I can figure out ways to compensate for my inadequacies - like no memory.

That's the first time I've ever seen either of them, and I got to see both, within about 10 minutes of each other. They each appeared in the NW part of the sky, a bright dot in the sky, moving quickly and smoothly across the sky. The station was visible for longer, the consistent little light gliding across the dark sky, disappearing near the moon. The shuttle was on a slightly different trajectory. It started out about the same brightness as the station, but then it got very, very bright, went directly overhead (I had to crane my neck all the way back), then got dimmer until just disappearing into the dark.

As it passed over, I imagined the astronauts inside and said a little prayer for their safety. I also imagined for a moment that maybe they were looking down at the Earth, at the United States, at Texas as their own families looked up and watched them pass by - that as I stood watching, the astronauts and their families connected across the miles and the night - love and worry and pride and prayer slipping through the ether faster than even the shuttle can fly.

Makes a cold night feel warm.

Neti Pot

Anyone out there use the Neti Pot? What do you think?

It's a little goofy looking to see someone use one - like something The Soup would rip on. But I've had two people give me rave reviews on it helping them with their allergies. I live in the allergy capital of the world, so I wouldn't mind a little non-chemical assistance with mine. I'm thinking seriously about buying one.

Any downside to it?

blah, blah, blah

Headed to Dallas for a few days for work. I can't think of anything witty to say about it. I can't think of anything witty to say about anything else either. I've had coffee, but no breakfast. Maybe that's what's plugging up the works. Maybe I need calories to get the brain working.

In fact, I'm probably working at a deficit now and should double up on my calories - half to get me back to normal and the other half to propel me to brilliantnessnessishness. See? Look at that. I'm practically wasting away on an intellectual level. I should probably find a breakfast buffet at this point. But it's after 10:00 a.m. There are no breakfast buffets on a weekday after 10. Mother of all that is holy, what are they trying to do to me? I'm going to be practically retarded in the next half-hour and it's all the fault of the Breakfast Hour Police.

There's also the small hurdle of being trapped at the office. I can't actually leave to go eat even if I knew where to go. But that's a distraction. Let's keep the blame where it belongs. On God, who designed me to be virtually incapable of getting up any earlier than I currently do so that I might have had a little more time to get some breakfast this morning on the way to work. I usually bring cereal with me, but since I'm going out of town, I didn't want to carry around Tupperware, so that was out. And I ate my last emergency Pop Tart yesterday. It's just a disaster.

What if I'm too stupid to even order any lunch by the time that's appropriate?

You go boyee.

It must be really fun to work at HEB. Like you're at a party. Or a club.

I don't know if it's like that at every HEB, but there's evidence that it's that way at the Hancock Center HEB.

I never noticed it until I went there at lunch today, but there are these big stripes on the floor by the cash registers. They run parallel to the registers, like the yellow brick road, leading you to the glory that is check-out, except they're purple and...some other color. Green maybe. I forget now. But the big stripes are topped by squares.

Technically, the stripes are topped by diamonds, because the squares are turned 45 degrees so that the point is down, but I don't want to get to crazy with the detail and have people asking, "HEB sells diamonds?" Let's stay focused.

So, I stood in line with my purchases, waiting for my turn to put my stuff onto the conveyor belt, and this manager walks by me, stops on a square to my right, and starts dancing. He was breakin' it down. He was steppin'. He was livin' in a world of illusion, all within the little square on the floor, to the music in his head. I wanted to join him.

Then he stopped, a "Thas right" expression on his face, possibly aimed at someone, but I didn't see who, and he moved on down the road to return to his grocery-store manager duties.

I got back to my office, where no one dances, and just for a moment, I wondered what kind of paycut I'd have to take to be a manager at the Hancock Center HEB.

J. Lo

Honey, even visually impaired people can see that you're pregnant. Just say so. You're allowed to say, "Yes, I'm pregnant, as you can see, but Marc and I are trying to keep our private lives as private as possible, so I'm going to leave the details between us."

That elephant in the room will go on his way, and you can start wearing clothes that aren't *designed* to hide what they're not hiding. Unless you're only pretending to hate the papparazzi and you're actually courting the buzz that your refusal to acknowledge the obvious is generating.

Hmmm...hadn't thought of that second option until just now. I thought you were playing the privacy game because after the Ben Affleck "every bowel movement captured on camera" debacle, you had swung a little too far in the other direction. But perhaps you're just manipulating the media - pretending to hate its intrusion by refusing to talk about your obvious pregnancy, knowing that the refusal will actually cause them to talk about you more, which means you're actually using your pregnancy to create buzz for your tour. Hypocritical much?

Get Fuzzy

Does anyone else read the cartoon "Get Fuzzy"? That cartoon just cracks me up! The one yesterday really made me laugh. I wanted to post it here, but I wasn't sure what the copyright law might be about a thing like that, so I found a site I could link to that shows it. Click on the link and prepare to giggle.

Aliens, acupuncture and Shirley

So, I was gonna blog about the UT game, but then yesterday I ran out of time, and now I've come upon something else to talk about. Last night I went to see Shirley Maclaine with a friend. It was kind of "An Evening with Shirley" set-up. Shirley spoke for about an hour then the executive director of the Paramount theater, Ken Stein, interviewed her for about 30 or 45 minutes.

I wasn't sure what to expect to be honest, and it was...interesting. Shirley is...interesting. I was aware of her sort of "out there" spiritual theories, but I'm kind of open in that regard, and I know she's a smart lady, so I was interested in hearing what she was going to say. I, uh, got my money's worth.

I can now say, based on my own experience of hearing the woman's own words, that, well, she's a loon. I'm sorry, Shirley. You're very smart and a talented actress, and I'll still enjoy you on screen, and I even kind of like you, but you're a loon.

I don't think she's a loon because she believes in acupuncture points and suggests people have dead teeth removed to cure acid reflux. Can't say I buy it, and me, I'll take Pepcid, but I think there's something to acupuncture, and Lord knows we don't understand everything about the body and our nervous systems, etc., so I'm open.

I don't think she's a loon for not liking George W. Bush. Lots of people don't like him or his policies, so that's okay. You're entitled. I think it's intellectually dishonest to say that he's an example of us "dumbing down" and wishing he'd die. The implication is that if you don't agree with her politics, you're stupid and shouldn't exist, and that kind of cop-out argument always loses me. So, she loses points for intellectuality with that, but that doesn't make her crazy.

I don't even think Shirley is a loon for believing in aliens. I actually think it's highly unlikely that out of the entire universe, we're the *only* sentient beings. There's very little of the universe we've been able to explore, so how can we possibly know what other life might be out there? And could other life have visited here? Sure, why not? And would we know? Maybe not. If they've made it to us, they've passed us technologically, so theoretically, they could have ways of communicating or cloaking themselves that would slip right past us. Imagine if you went back in time 100 years and could use your cell phone and your microwave, watch your tv and use the GPS in your car. People would freak and think YOU were an alien. Who knows what we'll discover and develop in the next 100 years.

But. When Shirley said computers were developed from technology the government found at the Roswell crash...well, I'm sorry, Shirley. I just can't follow you there. I'm not kidding, people. She said that. And she believes it. Apparently, we humans aren't capable of advances like that all on our own. I wonder who showed the Roswell aliens how to make computers?

She also said that if your dog smells, it's because you don't love him enough, because if he really felt that you loved him, he'd take it upon himself not to smell to please you. Yeah. She said that.

There was also something about us creating George W - it was part of some point about us creating reality or something...I don't know...I tuned out at times and started thinking about how I'd donate money to the Paramount to help preserve it if I hit the lottery. That seemed like a more reasonable train of thought at the time than whatever it was Shirley was babbling about.

The best part of the evening was the interview with Ken Stein. He was an absolute delight. I really enjoyed him. He came at the interview not with some elitist "Inside the Actor's Studio" approach, but as a fan and just a normal person, and you sort of felt like his questions and his reactions were the ones you would have if you were up there. At one point after Shirley had given some esoteric answer to something, he even said, "Sometimes you talk about things I don't understand, so I'm just going to move on." The audience died laughing, because, good Lord, it was so true.

Don't get me wrong, Shirley was a great interview. She was honest, open, funny and real. She had rapport with Ken and with the audience, and I liked her. But I think part of her ease was how easy Ken made it. Kind of like that old SNL skit, "The Chris Farley Show." Ken didn't pound himself on the head or say, "Remember that scene in 'Terms of Endearment' when you yelled at the nurse? That was cool." But that "regular guy" feeling was there that endeared him to you - or to me anyway. Good job, Ken.

And, uh, good luck Shirley. If the aliens do come and abduct someone, I'm thinking you're first in line, and the word on the street is that it isn't entirely pleasant.

Overheard on the street today:

"Today was a success."

Made me feel good for the lady who said it. Here's hoping we can all say that when we lay our heads down tonight.

Friday is a good day.

It's Friiiiiiidaaaaay!!!! Woo-hoo!!!

It's not so much the "Friday" part that makes me happy as the fact that today will be followed by Saturday, which will be followed by Sunday. Stretching out before me are two whole days where I get to sleep in and be the master of my own schedule. I don't have to go or be anywhere I don't want to go or be.

Okay, technically, I have that option during the week - I'd just have to sacrifice a paycheck for the freedom. And while I have a nice little nest egg going ("A bird lives in a round stick!" - If you can name that movie quote, you get to be my new best friend.), I'm not quite ready for retirement just yet.

On another note, I saw a neat little new show the other night: Pushing Daisies. It's kind of sci-fi, kind of fantasy, kind of romance, kind of murder mystery, kind of Tim Burton, kind of Coen Brothers, and really enjoyable. It doesn't hurt that the lead character is nice to look at, but so is his love interest - in fact, I especially like her, because she gives me hope. See, the lead character is pursued romantically by a sex-pot blonde, but he doesn't want her - he wants the pretty little brunette he's loved since he was a kid. It gives hope to all us little brunettes that maybe, just maybe, there are guys out there who really would want us even if they had the option of a sex-pot blonde. Dream the dream, little dreamer...

The lead is a pie maker, and his pie shop is called "The Pie Hole." Love it. He's got this great sidekick, who cracks me up (he actually calls the lead guy "bitch" at one point when the lead guy almost accidentally kills him), and the love interest's aunts used to be synchronized swimmers. Awesome. The cast is mostly people I don't know, but they're really good. One name you may have heard is Swoosie Kurtz - she plays one of the love interest's crazy aunts. They're going to do a repeat of the Pushing Daisies series premiere tonight at 7:00 (CST), so check it out. Let me know if you like it!

Taste the concrete.

I came back from lunch today, and the back elevator wouldn't come down to the ground floor. Apparently, someone was holding it on another floor. If my office was on any other floor of the building, that wouldn't matter, but in our building, there's only one elevator that actually goes all the way to the top floor - our floor: the back elevator.

I cursed whoever it was that was holding it and went around to the other elevators. I took one up to the next-to-the-top floor then entered the dark and sinister stairwell to walk the last flight of stairs. I jerked the door from the stairwell open and stepped forward...into a pitch black room. Seems there's an extra room between the stairwell to the lighted hallway leading to our office, and the extra room has no lights. That's not creepy.

Good thing I have no imagination or I would've immediately thought to myself, "Anyone could be hiding in here, and I wouldn't be able to see them. And if they decided to, say, attack me, it's possible no one would hear me since the entire office is located on the other side of the building." Oh wait...I have a really great imagination. Damn.

So, since I was appropriately freaked out mere seconds after jerking open the door, I gripped my styrofoam cup full of Diet Coke in my right hand, and held my purse against my side with my left hand and rushed really quickly, full steam-ahead through the totally dark room. I aimed for the light around the door on the other side, almost there, thank God I didn't run into anyth--BAM!!!!

I'm sure there's a reason someone built a concrete step three feet from the door. But that's not the thought that entered my head when my new pumps slammed into that step, throwing my whole body forward into the floor. I tried to catch myself with my right hand (since I'm right handed), but it had a 20-oz styrofoam cup in it. I heard the Diet Coke pouring out of the cup and tried to right the cup while simultaneously scrambling to get up off the floor before it got all over me and wondering if I had bruised my knee. But the Coke kept pouring out no matter what I did.

I groped and found the door knob, pushed open the door, and in the light, I could see that the fall had broken my styrofoam cup...at the bottom. I turned the cup sideways and that stanched the flow of cola. I limped to the bathroom and threw the cup away, wiped off my shoes and inspected the damage. No broken skin, so not too bad. There will likely be bruises tomorrow, but these days I find bruises without even knowing where they come from, so at least I'll know the origin on these.

When I got to the office, I was prepared to rail against whoever it was that had held the elevator and started this whole fiasco. But then I found out that the elevator was actually broken, and one of our delivery guys had been stuck in it for a half an hour. He stole my thunder! How dare he be stuck in a tiny, suspended box for 30 minutes when I have a story to tell about falling in the dark!

Oh well. At least there was no one in the scary, dark room. I know, because if there had been, there's no question they would've laughed out loud when I bit it. I kind of snicker everytime I picture it in my head.

(P.S. This is posting on Thursday. I wrote this on Tuesday, as the date stamp shows, but for some reason it never got posted - maybe I forgot to click on the "Publish Post" button? Couldn't possibly be user error. In any case, no bruising on my knees appeared, but my arms and back have been sore for the last 2 days thanks to my little spill. I'm getting old.)

Another week

Today started off poorly. I woke up at 5:48 a.m. and just for a moment, I thought it was Sunday. Joy! I can go back to sleep - hours left on the sleep clock! Imagine my disappointment when I realized the truth.

I think that disappointment is only a hangover from the disappointment I experienced Saturday at Royal-Memorial Stadium. I'm afraid this season for the Longhorns has only landmines ahead. We dodged them the first few games, but the wheels done come off the bus this weekend, and now we're all just going to shove it along the ground, striking landmine after landmine.

The first loud boom can be expected this Saturday, when OU takes out its own disappointment on us. They're going to enjoy it alot. We won't. I'll watch for as long as I can take it. Maybe some miracle will happen and we'll decide to play like the team we should be instead of the one we are. But I doubt it. At least I didn't pay a gazillion dollars for tickets to the actual game.

A short roundup:

- Pam Anderson may be getting married again. Sure. Why not?

- Jackie Chan doesn't really care for his Rush Hour movies - the humor and action are too Americanized for his taste. Didn't mind the American dollars it put in your pocket, though, did you, Jack?

- A guy who tried to extort $1 million from Tom Cruise was found dead last week. He committed "suicide." That must be Scientology-ese for "You messed with our alien leader and now you must pay." (Kidding, Scientology! Kidding! What's funny is that you would NEVER do anything like that!! Get it?? See how funny something so completely off the mark is??? You're like Islam - a religion of peace!!! Maybe I should upgrade my security system at home...)

- And from the "What the hell is wrong with people?" file, a company in India has launched a new line of bedspreads they call "The Nazi Collection." When you start the story, you're thinking, "What a complete a-hole" about whoever is responsible. Then, just for a moment, you see his explanation and you think, "Oh, it was just a stupid mistake." But then the guy responsible says: "It really does not matter to me who feels bad about it." So, yeah, first impression was the right one. What an a-hole.

Life in the hood

...or at least a few miles past the hood where you're not really in the hood, but your neighbors don't seem to know they're not in the hood.

My next door neighbor is re-painting his truck.

With spray paint.




(And yes, Judy, I deleted my last post - email me if you want to know how things turned out.)

Mighty fine bread.

Great Harvest has mighty fine bread. Yes, they do. Good tasting. Only the best ingredients. Made right there in the store. By an angry lady who might kick your ass.

Their bread is so good, they can justify asking a ridiculous price. Or at least, they think they can justify it. Whether or not they can justify it, they charge it.

See, I had a coupon. I love coupons. I'm a coupon lady. I take the time to clip them, check them before I go to the store, and use them. It's like getting free stuff. In some cases, you actually get free stuff!

That was the lure yesterday. I could buy a loaf of bread and get one free. WHAT A DEAL!!! So, I hiked it on over to Westlake (a fru-fru part of town...where Great Harvest lives), and I showed the Angry Lady my coupon. She blandly directed me to "the board" where they had Monday's offerings listed. They're elite - they don't make everything everyday. They only make a portion of the menu each day. Hope you didn't go in there for something specific.

Anyway, the board listed the flavors, but not the prices. I didn't really notice that. At Amy's Ice Cream they do that, but all the flavors cost the same, so it doesn't matter. So, I selected Honey Wheat bread for my first choice, and then a flavored bread for my second. Angry Lady said they were out of the flavored one. So, I asked to sample a different flavor. She blandly handed me a sample. It was divine. Butterscotch. Wowowowowowow. I'll take it.

She rings me up. $7.30. With a coupon! It was 7 friggin 30 for ONE loaf of bread! My ears rang a little, but I didn't want to seem cheap (as I stood their with my 2-for-1 coupon), so I gave her a $20 bill, got my cash and left. I told my mom about it later, and she was sure they'd charged me for both loaves.

I got home and Angry Lady had given me no receipt, so I went back today. SURELY they had overcharged me...accidentally. With Angry Lady looking on (I had hoped she wouldn't be there), I asked the manager about it, and he pointed to a different sign above the counter area - one with prices. Dear God in Heaven, the butterscotch bread (which he informed me was actually considered a pound cake...because that's worth WAY more than bread, I guess) was $7.30. All by itself.

Embarrassed that I hadn't checked the price before ordering or when Angry Lady rang me up, and that I'd actually come all the way back across town for nothing - to stand there and be shown what the other customers present in the store probably already knew - that the friggin' bread is ridiculously expensive and if I lived in Westlake, I'd buy it without even noticing it cost $7.30 a loaf (for the pound cakes, that is) - I sheepishly said "Oh okay" and slinked out of the store.

I'm pretty sure Angry Lady will now will remember me if I go in again. That's not good. She seriously looks like she'd kick your ass as soon as look at you. And now I may have made her angry. The best case scenario is she spits in my bread if I go back.

So, I guess I'll enjoy my really good, really expensive bread, and never go back. It really must be different to be rich.

Mouse Hunt. Day One.

I went to Home Depot last night to check out the many pest control options for The Furry One (TFO).

They had some of the traditional Tom & Jerry style mousetraps. That was the cheapest option, but also the most brutal. I moved on.

On the complete opposite end of the scale was a trap-and-release trap. I considered this one. No death. No dismemberment. No gore. No pain. I could catch the little guy(s) and then release him behind the fence onto the ranch behind my house. One problem with that scenario, though. TFO has tasted the good life. He's lived in the garage, in his cozy little nest under the lawnmower, safe from the elements and predators, with access to the carpeted car. He'd be back. He found me once. He'll find me again. And there's not much point in a continual cycle of him moving in and me moving him out. Keep going.

There was poison. There were sticky traps. Both of these would require me to dispose of bodies and see the mayhem I'd wrought. Like sausage, I don't want to see the reality. So, I finally settled on a trap that catches the little guy, closes behind him, and then I throw the whole trap away. It didn't say that the trap had anything in it to kill TFO, so I've decided to believe that it releases a gas. The gas smells like eucalyptus, and TFO relaxes, falls happily asleep to dreams of cheese, and then quietly passes away. I then throw his little plastic coffin away without disturbing him. It's humane...in my mind. So, do me a favor and don't tell me otherwise.

I bought a two-pack of these traps. I baited them with peanut butter and put one in my car and one by the lawnmower. So far, no mice have been caught. I do, however, have a trail of ants leading into the one by the lawnmower. Awesome. Yet another pest to deal with.

Only me.

I swear to God, some things that happen in my life don't happen to other people. They really don't.

The latest occurrence of this was yesterday and involves small, furry rodents and my car.

A couple of weeks ago, I drug out the lawnmower to mow the backyard. When I did that, out ran a little mouse who had built a nest under my lawnmower in the garage. "Hmmm," I thought. "I should do something about that." But I was focused on mowing, so that was a chore for another day.

I guess that day has arrived. Because yesterday, I picked up the windowshade that was in the foot/leg area of my front passenger seat, and under the window shade, in the floor, was the little trash bag I keep there. It was in tatters. Little shredded pieces of plastic were all over the floor where Mr. Mouse had tried to get at some food that I'd thrown into the trash bag.

Let me reiterate this: the mouse had somehow gotten in my CAR (which I do, in fact, park in my garage) and was hanging out - eating, sleeping, possibly pooping or whatever a mouse does when hanging out in your car. I just pray he hasn't been gnawing wires and such.

Does this happen to other people? Do other people get MICE in their car??? I'm not foul. I don't normally have food in my car. I'd bought a little package of Nibs on the way home from Houston on Sunday, and they were all crystallized and nasty, so I tossed the package in the trash and just hadn't gotten around to throwing out the trash bag. It had only been in there a few days - a closed container of melted ice cream. That's all. Nothing gross! It wasn't like meat or something. And it wasn't just loose in the trash or in the car. I know people with kids who find random french fries, skittles and all sorts of stuff in their cars. And they don't get mice!!

So, now I've got to go get a trap. I hate the thought of this. I hate the thought of a painful, brutal death to a little furry guy just tryin' to live his little rodent life. But he's going to gnaw a cable or a wire or something on my car, and I'm going to end up stranded on the road. Or he'll do that to an extension cord in the garage, and I'll end up electrocuted. Or he'll give me the plague or something. It's just not a good living arrangement.

So, he has to go. And I'll probably cry when I find him all dead in a horrible way. I suppose I could try to get my cat to take care of the problem for me. But she's likely to just play with it and then come inside to eat, rather than actually killing it, and then if I kill it, she'll blame me for killing her new friend/toy, so that's no good.

So, there we are. I guess I'll get a trap today and put it in my car tonight. I don't know that Mr. Mouse is actually still in the car. Probably he's just in the garage. He probably got through to the Nibs and said, "These things are all crystallized and nasty. I'm going back under the lawnmower." But I have to make sure I'm getting whoever is coming into the car, so that's where the trap will go. Wish me luck that The End is not too graphic.