I needed this after a very long week.

If this made your Friday, too, see more such cuteness at www.thingsthatmakeyougoaahh.com.

I want a dog.

OMG. I own a business. How did that happen?

Oy, what a week. That post about the washer seems like weeks ago. I can't even stand to bore you with everything that's gone on since Saturday, but suffice it to say, I can't believe it's only Wednesday. I do have some big news, though.

First, let me say Happy Birthday to someone very special. You know who you are...if you check this today. I sent you wishes on another medium, though, and I know you got that one. But now I've said it here, so you're famous.

Now, onto my big news. You may have gotten it from the title of this post, since I kinda said it there, but the big news is...I own a business! Yes, that's right, I am officially a business owner!! My business is a professional writing service.

It's kind of in the infant stage at the moment. I've registered a DBA with the county, so I'm officially "in business" but I'm actually still trying to figure it all out - what services exactly to offer, pricing structure, etc. This all came up very organically, so I'm winging it a bit. I had a friend who needed some help with some marketing material, and then another friend who needed help with a newsletter, and we all began to trade services, and then they both offered to send business my way, and suddenly, there I was - at the county clerk's office researching my company name so I'd have something to call myself when this business came my way!

It's very exciting and scary and not the way the books tell you to do it - I have no business plan or anything. But it seems to be happening, and one of the folks I've bartered with up to this point has a financial planner who she said might help me figure it out if I write her (the financial planner) some marketing stuff, so there ya go. It just keeps kind of building! I'll let you know if I get to the point of having a Web site or something.

Wish me luck that it all develops the way I want it to. It'd be amazing if it got to the point somewhere down the road where I could actually make my living with my own business instead of workin' for The Man. There's a lot of ground to cover between now and then, so I'm not quitting my job just yet, but maybe I'm on a new road. Or maybe I'll just make a little extra cash doing something I enjoy. It's all good, right?

The saga of the washer.

Well, it's apparently time for a new washing machine. Dammit.

I bought my current machine about 5 years ago...I think...I'm pretty sure I had my old one when I moved into my house and replaced it with this one.

Three years ago, the machine broke. It would start the wash cycle, then halfway through it would just stop. You could manually advance it to the rinse cycle, but then the same thing would happen. It would just stop.

So, I called a repairman. I arranged it through Whirlpool, and they set me up with A&E Factory Repair Service. Okay. The repairman couldn't diganose the problem, but he did manage to sell me a warranty. I'm sure it made sense at the time. According to my notes, the problem must've recurred two months later, because that's when I have down that the motor on the washer was replaced.

That's right. Three years. Two weeks ago, the exact same problem happened again. I called A&E Factory Service, thinking that if I called the same people, I could tell them what happened last time and maybe they'd have a record and maybe they could just plan on doing the same repair in one visit and this whole thing could be resolved in one shot.

Because my current job won't let me take any time off for any reason whatsoever (presumably I'd be docked for a hospital stay), I have to schedule these sorts of things on the weekends. They couldn't get me a Saturday appt until today - two weeks. So, I've had no washer for two weeks. Or rather, I've had a washer filled with water, sitting in my laundry closet for two weeks. I figured I'd let the tech empty it.

It's been annoying, but at least today it would be fixed. At 8:45, they called me. Their technician called in sick - they'd have to reschedule. WHAT??? I've already waited two weeks! Is there NO other technician? Apparently not. I tell the lady to cram it - I'm calling Sears.

I call Sears. I make my way through the voice-prompt phone tree (which I hate), and I finally get a human. She asks all the same info that the phone tree made me give (what exactly is the purpose of those damn things?), then asks if I bought my washer at Sears. A few more questions and she passes me to someone else. The new guy says he sees a cancelled appt. No - I had an appt with A&E Factory Service that THEY cancelled, but I have no appts with you guys. I get passed to someone else. For the third time, I give all my info, get an appt for next Saturday (ARGH! Another week! And next Saturday is the first day of a holiday weekend! I don't *want* to be stuck at home waiting for a repairman on Labor Day weekend!), then I ask (because I'm suspicious that the other guy mentioned a cancellation), "It is a Sears repairman that'll be coming right?" No. It's A&E again. The Sears bastards passed me on to A&E when I said I didn't buy my washer at Sears!!! Oh, the screaming in my head.

As an aside, the lady on the phone mentioned that in another part of the country 10 of their technicians called in sick. Seems we have some kind of "sick out" going on. Congratulations boys. You just lost your company business. They lose business, you lose your job - without customers, there's no need for your services. But back to me...cause you know it's all about me.

I kept the A&E appt, but then I got out the phone book. I found a local company that advertised same-day service. Best Service Co. I call. A human answers. A real person who is polite. She says she can have someone out between 10 and 1 today. Thank you, God. Thank you for this nice lady who will actually give me timely service. About 10:30, the technician calls me, asks me what's going on. I tell him the history, and he says that he's pretty sure that the motor will need to be replaced again. He says that the technician 3 years ago likely put a salvaged motor into my washer, not a new one, and that's why it's out again. He gives me a quote over the phone, for free, and we determine together that I'd be better off buying a new washer. Appt cancelled, no charge, and I have an answer today instead of a week from now.

Best, you really are the best.

So, I'm going to be washer shopping today, and my Labor Day weekend appt with A&E (my last with them ever) is cancelled. If you need a repair service in the Austin area, call Best Service Company. A human will answer the phone; they'll get you service in a reasonable timeframe; and they'll be honest with you. Not much more you can ask than that.

eBay listing by a Mom with 6 kids. God help her.

As a general rule, I don't use my blog to send you to someone else's blog to get your daily dose of entertainment. After all, I got thoughts of my own. You came here because MY thoughts intrigue you, right? You lie awake at night wondering what I'm thinking, what I'm doing, what I'll regail you with come morning. It's cheating to send you to someone else to fill you with laughter and/or thoughts to ponder. And besides, you might start going to their blog instead of mine.

But this is a great little piece of writing, and something that I think you'll get a kick out of. It's actually an eBay listing, but the woman also has a blog that I intend to check out. I'm not sure how long the listing will live out there in cyberspace, so check it out quickly.

When you read this eBay listing, if you're a parent, particularly a mom, you will wonder how this woman keeps her sanity. If you're not a parent or your parenting is limited to only managing one or two children, you'll learn a valuable lesson about commenting on the vast number of children someone with a brood has, as if they've never had it pointed out to them before.

I hope you enjoy!

Great movie line

"You were born to be murdered." - The Third Man

So, what are you saying?

I went out to my mailbox yesterday when I got home - it's one of those community boxes. Since it's located across the street from my house, that means I get to listen to 30 of my neighbors stop by everyday with their bass booming or Tejano wailing while they get their mail and then go through every piece of it in their car before they drive off and go home. I guess they need to make sure the florist hasn't sent a thank-you note home, alerting their spouse that they've sent flowers to their girlfriends.

Anyway, on my way across my front lawn, I see my neighbor to the right working on his yard. He's mowed and run the weedeater. "Good," I think. Because that lawn has never seen weed killer of any kind, and it runs amok. I say this with complete hypocrisy, because I've got renegade weed plants (meaning they're tall and have sturdy trunks to them) all over my front yard. I said I made my backyard a showplace a couple of weeks ago - I said nothing about the front yard.

Well, this neighbor, whose name I don't know, in part because I wasn't even sure he lived there and he barely speaks English, so conversation didn't really seem a priority, smiled and waved, so I smiled and waved. Then he says to me that he'll do my lawn next if I'd like. That's code for, "Your lawn looks like shit. Just let me do if it you're not going to."

I say that no, I'll do it, and he says he won't charge me. For a moment, I consider this, then realize that if I let him, he may think I owe him in some other way. Unacceptable. So, I decline again. He tries again - telling me I'm a good neighbor, and he won't charge me. I wanted to say, "I got it. The weeds have birds' nests in them. I'll mow, okay?" But instead I just decline once again and assure him I'll do it.

I can't be sure if Pedro was hitting on me, disgusted by my lawn, or just being nice. But be sure I got my mail in a hurry and scurried back inside. I wonder if there's a service where you can rent a large man to swing by your house periodically and pretend to be your angry boyfriend so that neighbors won't hit on you or give you grief about your yard?

Life is like...

So, I'm reading a story about an interview with Ethan Hawke. He's going to tell us all how hard it is to be a celebrity couple (he used to be married to Uma Thurman).



He says that it's hard when one person's career is on the rise while the other's is languishing. I can see that. It'd be hard to cheer your spouse's success while you feel like you're failing at the same thing they're succeeding at. Human frailty. You're not a butthead - it's not that you want them to fail. You'd just like to succeed, too. That's probably why it's better to marry someone who isn't in your same industry - cuts down on the natural sense of competition.

He tried to say he wasn't jealous, but it wasn't really believable the way he said it. To him, I say, "Ethan, it's okay. You were jealous. You felt bad about your career stalling, and then you felt bad about yourself for feeling jealous of Uma's career taking off. Bad feelings led to more bad feelings, and it's hard to have a happy relationship when that starts. We'd like to all think we're above that kind of jealousy, and it would've been better if you had been - you would've kept your family together, but it's not hard to understand. Here's Ryan Philippe's number - you boys talk amongst yuhselves."

I would've liked him better if he'd just said that. "I wish I could've been bigger about it, but I couldn't and it just sucked." But I didn't *dislike* him. And I still don't. But I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want to hang out with him - not based on the stuff I've mentioned so far, but on this quote:

"There's a certain geometry to life — that life has a certain math equation to it, and if you're never together, you can't build a home," Hawke says.

Uh. What? What the hell do geometry and math equations have to do with not having enough time together? I get the last half of that, and I agree with it, but the first part - I think Ethan thinks he's deep. And I'm not really sure he is. And there are few things more annoying than someone who *thinks* they're deep.

If you're going to start out making some big philosophical point about life and math and octagons and chapstick, you need to actually MAKE that point. Just suggesting that you see some sort of interplay, but never actually explaining it, and then just trailing off into some banal conclusion that pretty much any one of us could've come to...that ain't deep, Ethan. "Life is like a flourescent bulb - it's like an incandescence that passes into obscurity, and if you're hungry, you should eat."

Ethan, maybe your marriage didn't fail because you were jealous of your wife's success and you spent too much time apart. Maybe the time apart was all that kept you together as long as you were. Maybe you bored Uma to tears with your pseudo-intellect and taking yourself way too seriously. Just a thought.

I'm SO 21st century!!

Not only am I writing this on a high-speed connection from my very own home, but I'm writing it on a WIRELESS connection!! That's right, Skippy! I'm goin' commando - my laptop on my actual lap while I sit on my couch with no cords tethering me to anything! I feel so freeeeeee!

Big huge shout-out thank you to Dave for getting everything set up for me. You rock, with your technically savvy self!

And big additional shout-out to Vangie for drinking beer with me while Dave slaved over the computer stuff. I'm pretty sure it would've been much more difficult for him without our support. Maybe we should come up with a cheer of some kind for him - Ridley can do ho-down kicks and we'll do herkies...then Dave can drive us to the hospital.

Erin comes to town.

A little different view tonight from the backyard as Tropical Storm Erin swims ashore:

The calm before...

Tropical Storm Erin is bearing down on Texas - it should make landfall somewhere on the South Texas coast, possibly around Corpus Christi, by tomorrow afternoon. Austin will get a nice dousing of rain for a couple of days as the storm breaks apart and moves on.

But last night, the only indication we had of the coming bad weather was some rainless clouds, which made for a gorgeous sunset.



I sat out in my backyard and enjoyed the beautiful sky until the sun finally eased on down past the horizon, leaving behind darkness and fireflies blinking gently. Summer.

S-a t-u-r d-a-y NIGHT!

As I mentioned a few days ago, I went to the grocery store on Saturday night. Saturday night is an interesting time to go to the grocery store, I've found. Not only do you avoid crowds (seems most people do something else to do on a Saturday night), but the people who *are* there are, in many cases...people who would go to the grocery store on Saturday night.

Some are, like me, completely normal, rational people who just *happened* to be free on a Saturday night and have an empty pantry. Completely normal. Got that? Not pathetic in any way. They had plans on Friday and plans on Sunday, so they kept Saturday free for household chores. That's all. Draw no conclusions.

But the others...well, just try going sometime and you'll see. Even the people who work there notice it. I found that the guys in the produce section were very chatty with me. No one ever talks to me at the grocery store. Honestly, I can't remember anyone who works there (or for that matter, anyone who doesn't work there) ever approaching me. But two, count 'em two, produce guys started conversations with me. And no, I wasn't lookin' all hot. I had on overalls, no makeup and my hair was in a ponytail. But I think I had an air of normalcy that they craved contact with.

The person who best captured the air of the Saturday night shopper at the Hancock Center HEB was an older lady in the meat section. She had on a housedress and slippers, and she was methodically going through the small packages of pork chops - the ones that contained just a couple of chops. She was picking up the packages from an upper shelf one by one, looking at the prices, and then dropping them unceremoniously, to the point of almost throwing them, down on the bottom shelf...where the family-size packages were located. She must've dislocated at least 10 packages. All the while, she sort of muttered to herself.

Keep in mind, I was also trying to buy pork chops. I tried to look at her disapprovingly as she mangled the display, but she was big, like about 6 foot, and I got afraid she might be crazy, so I just walked away and went to the chicken section, hoping she'd find what she wanted and move on. But she didn't. She sort of shuffled off once or twice like she was going to go elsewhere, but then she'd come back and dig through them some more - tossing things around and creating mayhem, throwing the entire pork section into disarray. I finally had to just dive in, find what I wanted and hope she didn't beat me with her purse for interfering with her quest for the perfect package of pork chops.

She didn't. She watched me - perhaps thinking that if I happened to lay my hands on THE package that she so desired, she'd snatch it out of my hands. If she had, believe me, I would've let her have it. "I think you're right, ma'am! Those ARE the best ones of the lot!! Enjoy!!"

In short order (because you know I was motivated to get the hell outta the entire meat department at that point), I found a package to suit my needs and headed for the dairy section. When I left, she looked like she was going to start digging through them again. I can't tell you if she did. I didn't look back.

What a Rush!!

You can tell I'm a professional writer from that headline, can't you? I bet I'm the first one ever to use that.

Rush was fantastic! They were worth every moment of lost sleep last night, which, as anyone who knows me will tell you, is a ringing endorsement. I value sleep right up there with...things that are worth a lot. I have to admit, I wasn't expecting that much. Some oldsters playing some songs I know from the 80s and a bunch of stuff I don't know. But I'd be with my friend, who I always enjoy spending time with, so it'll be fun.

Wow, was it so much better than that! I knew more songs than I realized I did, and I liked the songs they played that I didn't know, and they had some fun video stuff. I'd forgotten how articulate and thoughtful their lyrics are - really head and shoulders above most rock bands. And their musicianship...yowza. Those guys are really gifted! All three of them are just amazing. I enjoyed every minute of the evening - and it was almost a 3-hour show! And the ampitheater was packed - they can seriously still sell out a large venue - after 30 years!

They're really just fantastic - worth every penny you pay for the ticket. If you even think you like Rush songs - think you remember a few - go see them when they come to your town. You won't regret it.



On a sidenote, the Verizon Wireless Ampitheater had a better setup than I'd feared. There's actually a lot of a seating - real seats - under a covered area directly in front of the stage. The "lawn" area is behind that. Because Sheila absolutely rocks, she bought seats in the covered seating area. And that's why Sheila and I go to shows together - we're both willing to pony up for comfort.

When we got to the theater, it was lightly raining, which made our covered seats that much more worth the price. And instead of causing the area to become a sauna, the rain cooled things off (thank god, since it was 99 degrees at 5:30 when we were driving down there), so we were really comfortable for almost the entire show. So, we had cooperative weather and good seats. Nice start.

The band started with "All The World's A Stage" - a.w.e.s.o.m.e. And I had a perfect view of the stage and the band. That lasted about a song and a half. Then some giant lady and her giant boyfriend sat in front of me. I think seating at concerts shouldn't be based on price or first-come first-serve. It should be based on height. Short people up front - tall people in back. I recognize that that would put me right up front for most concerts, but I'm willing to carry that burden. We're all going to have to sacrifice a little if we want this "everyone gets to see" thing to work! Luckily there were large screens - 5 of them - around the stage so what I couldn't see around Giganto Woman's head, I could see on the screens.

Well, I'm running high on caffeine right now, so I'm going to try to hurry up and get some work done before my eventual crash, when I become useless. I'd better go get some more coffee...

No lawn tools were harmed in the beautifying of this yard.

It is done. The backyard is once again a showplace:



I mowed, used the weedeater as it was intended (instead of in lieu of a machete), filled the birdbaths and bird feeder, watered the potted plants, returned all the furniture to where it belongs, weeded the flower beds, and even pulled up the very decrepit, overgrown, half-dead looking rosemary bush from my herb garden. Whew.

I'm a little tired and a little sunburned, but I do feel relieved at finally getting things under control out there. The hay-like color of the lawn is a little distressing, but honestly, in any other year, it would've looked like that starting in June, so it's nothing I'll lose sleep over. I've got web worms in my sweet gum tree that I may try to oust, and I'm going re-pot a few plants, but that stuff is small potatoes compared to today's overhaul.

So, now it's party time! That's right - tonight I reward myself with...a trip to the grocery store!!! Back up, people, she is breakin' out!!!

(Lest I be seen as a loser, tomorrow night I'm going to rock the house, Canadian-style - or, rather, rock the outdoor ampitheater. I'm going to see Rush at the Verizon Wireless Ampitheater. It'll be cool to see Rush, but I find this venue a ridiculous idea. It's an outdoor theater in a place where the temperatures reach "public safety notice" levels. Why on earth would you purposely build something in Central Texas that is supposedly for people's enjoyment but is *designed* to not include air conditioning? That's like designing a building that won't include oxygen. "Now, get in there and have a good time!!!")

I have to, don't I?

I still haven't mowed the backyard. I know, I know - but it's hot. And it's going to be an ordeal. And I just don't feel like taking on an ordeal right now. But I think this weekend it MUST be done.

I did get the weed-eating done to try and get the grass down to a manageable height. Even that was an ordeal. It took more than one day. The first day I got most of the yard done, but then my weedeater started overheating and malfunctioning. It was throwing out extra line which proceeded to sling shrapnel at my legs. I'd cut the line back to a normal length, and two seconds later (not an exaggeration), it would be back to military weapon length. I have actual gouges in my shins from projectiles the freakin' plastic string was finding in the grass. I don't even know what was hitting me! Between the bleeding and the smell of my weedeater frying, I finally gave up. This is where I left things that first day:




The first picture is close up to give you an indication how high the grass had gotten. The second one lets you see how much of the yard still needed to be tackled. It's been about a week since I finally got it all cut down, so it's all starting to grow again. That means if I don't mow this weekend, my war wounds will all be for naught.

On top of that, for the last week or so, I've had all my outdoor furniture stacked in my flower beds and such to keep it out of the way while I did the weed-eating and (presumed) mowing, so my yard looks a bit like a junk yard. You can't see the stacking in these two pictures, so you'll have to take my word for it. It's verging on pathetic.

So, I have some Gatorade chilled in the fridge, some Off ready to douse all exposed skin and some old tennis shoes and high socks to protect against the ant piles I will no doubt stire up (I shouldn't need shin guards since I'll be mowing instead of weedeating, meaning the shrapnel phase should be over), and I guess tomorrow morning is The Time. I *must* mow. I *must* marshall myself to just get it the frig done. I hope I don't kill my lawnmower the way I may have killed my weedeater. That would suck.

Something I'm trying to learn.

It's not what someone says to me that matters in the long run. It's what they do. Said more eloquently:

I have always thought the actions of men the best interpreters of their thoughts. ~John Locke

When deeds speak, words are nothing. ~African Proverb

Well done is better than well said. ~Benjamin Franklin

Words without actions are the assassins of idealism. ~Herbert Hoover

Trust only movement. Life happens at the level of events, not of words. Trust movement. ~Alfred Adler

A promise is a cloud; fulfillment is rain. ~Arabian Proverb

Remember, people will judge you by your actions, not your intentions. You may have a heart of gold, but so does a hard-boiled egg. ~Author Unknown

Talk doesn't cook rice. ~Chinese Proverb

Ironically, making a statement with words is the least effective method. ~Grey Livingston

Just as a flower, which seems beautiful has color but no perfume, so are the fruitless words of a man who speaks them but does them not. ~Dhammapada

We are all inclined to judge ourselves by our ideals; others, by their acts. ~Harold Nicolson

Suit the action to the word, the word to the action. ~Shakespeare

As I grow older I pay less attention to what men say. I just watch what they do. ~Andrew Carnegie

Between saying and doing many a pair of shoes is worn out. ~Italian Proverb

People may doubt what you say, but they will believe what you do. ~Lewis Cass

I wonder how many ways I'll have to hear it before I get it?

She's got the look.

Gwyneth Paltrow has a new look:

Yuck. I don't like it.

It really makes you realize how much of our appearance is maleable. You can really look different with a change of makeup, hair or weight. I wonder sometimes what I'd look like if some Hollywood stylist got a hold of me.

I've looked pretty much the same since high school. I'm a couple of sizes larger, but my proportions are about the same, so the overall effect is about the same. Just don't ask me to compare bathing suit photos from now and then.

After having long hair pretty much all my life, I cut my hair short about 10 years ago. I kept it short for about 8 years, which I suppose gave me a different look. Then, looking for a change, I started growing it out again about two years ago. I wasn't sure it would work. My hair is very fine and straight, and when I was younger, I always had to have perms to keep it from looking stringy and sad. But Austin is less humid than Houston (where I lived growing up), and straight hair is in, so it's been working out. The point I meandered to, though, was that the longer hair returned me to my traditional look.

I also don't wear a lot of makeup, and what I do wear is probably the same basic stuff I've always worn, applied the same basic way. As we see with Gwyneth above, makeup can make a huge difference in your appearance, so since I haven't changed mine up much, I guess that's another reason I look pretty much the same year-to-year.

So, what would a stylist do? Would they keep anything the same? Would I still look like myself? I'm fine with the way I look, but I wonder if I'd like some professionally engineered look better. Probably not. And besides, how would all my millions of fans know to greet me on the streets as I pass by if they couldn't recognize me? Probably best to just keep my look as it is.

Barry Bonds. Big Deal.

I don't follow pro baseball. I follow *some* college baseball (okay, mostly just UT), but that's about it - I never got too into baseball. I'm a football gal. I'm from Texas - what can I say?

But not being a student of the game doesn't stop me from knowing all about Barry Bonds and the Barry Bonds controversy and Barry Bonds tying Hank Aaron's record and Barry Bonds gets booed where Barry Bonds doesn't get cheered. And Barry Bonds.

My personal take on the matter is that his "record" should have a big-ass asterisk next to it. In my mind, he hasn't broken Hank Aaron's record. When he can do it without steroids and extra equipment, then we'll talk. If you don't know what I mean about him using extra equipment, read this article. Bonds apparently can't just cheat in one way - he's got to do it two ways in order to catch Aaron.

So, Hank, as far I'm concerned, you're still the king. And I imagine I'm not alone in that.

I wonder how many hot dogs Bonds can eat?

Enough with the evil giants.

Last year, AT&T absorbed SBC, which used to be SWB (Southwestern Bell), which used to be part of AT&T before the government broke up the giant AT&T monopoly in the 80s. In case you don't follow that, we've come full circle. AT&T used to gouge my parents, and now they gouge me. They've raised my rate at least twice since taking over, and I haven't increased my service one iota.

I'd get rid of my landline and tell them to bite themselves, but my cell service is really crappy inside my house (thank you, T-Mobile), and even if I had a strong signal, I'm not sure 9-1-1 would know where I am if I ever needed it and was calling from my cell. You have to have the right kind of 9-1-1 service in your area for that, and I'm kind of in the boonies. As a single woman living alone, it's important that you be able to dial 9-1-1, and even if you can't speak loudly, slowly and clearly to tell the operator where you are and that a bad man has just broken into your house or you've just fallen and hit your head and I...think...I'm...passing...ouuuuuuuuut, they can find you.

You think I'm paranoid? Well, I did, in fact, smack my noggin on the bathroom floor a few years ago and had to seriously try to assess if I might have a concussion and if I should go to the hospital (it sounded like a bowling ball smacking on concrete. I thought at first something had fallen from the countertop, not realizing it was the sound of my own skull smacking against vinyl tile...which overlays a concrete subfloor)- just what you want with no one there to wake you up every 2 hours and make sure you're not in a coma.

I had to make that assessment as I lay first on the bathroom floor and then on the bed, where I landed in heap just before a wave of nausea hit me. I'm guessing the person WITH the potential head injury is not the best person to decide what to do in those situations. But at least I knew that if I *did* decide a hospital trip was in order, I could reach to the side of the bed, dial 9-1-1 and someone would come, even if I didn't stay coherent through the call.

I didn't end up needing to go to the hospital. Or at least I didn't go, and I don't seem to be brain damaged. Looking back, it was pretty stupid not to go. But all of that is distracting from the real point here, which is that AT&T is a bunch of scumbag monopolists who screw you because they have you over a barrel and you have no choice.

Except for VoIP, I guess. But if I wanted to get high-speed Internet through my cable, and then get phone service through them and avoid AT&T, guess who my one and only choice for cable would be where I live? Time Warner. The other evil giant. There is no escape!

Soon. Very soon.

I know we all get caught up in our workaday lives, so it's possible you haven't looked ahead to what begins in just a few short weeks (four weeks, actually, if you're looking at a burnt orange schedule), but campers, glory is upon us. Yes, that's right, in just one short page-flip of the calendar, football season begins. Let me repeat that: football season begins!!!!

There will be plenty of time to talk about college football - UT in particular - in the ensuing months. I won't even address the pre-season pick with USC in the top spot in this posting. Okay, maybe I'll address it a little: what.evuh. Should UT be in that spot? Probably not. But I actually prefer not to start the season with a target on our helmets, so that's okay. And besides, I'd like to see if Colt is 100% before I start thinking about where we should be in the polls. But as I said, there will be plenty of wondorous months ahead to talk college ball.

What I want to talk about today is pro ball. I don't watch pro ball. I watched the Oilers growing up. I was a child of the Luv Ya Blue generation. Earl Campbell. Bum Phillips. Kenny Stabler. They were good years, with memories of the Astrodome, Dome Foam (my dad drank it, not me - I didn't drink beer in elementary school), Dome Dogs, and lots of clothes in a pretty bad shade of light blue - Columbia blue they called it. Sounds like a Yankee color to me.

Anyway, when Bud Adams, the a-hole owner of the Oilers fired Bum Phillips - and announced it on TV, no less, before Phillips could even tell his family - I felt my love of the team flag. Then Adams demanded the city build him a stadium, and when they didn't, he moved the team to Tennessee. Good riddance to bad rubbish, we Houstonians said! But that left me without a team to care about and Houston without a pro football team at all. Madness.

By that time, though, my love of college football had reached fever pitch, so I decided I didn't really care much. College games start on Thursday night, continue on Friday night, then hit full-on on Saturday from 11 a.m. until sometime into the early hours of Sunday morning sometimes for West Coast games. Do I really need to watch on Sunday, too?

Besides, pro ball isn't as much fun for me to watch. The fans don't really have the same love that college fans have (your team is always your team - it doesn't just pick up and move to another city one day), and the players are all a bunch of over-muscled prima donnas who mostly just want to celebrate themselves and figure out how to work their court dates into their social schedule. College players love the game, knowing they probably won't ever play again. It's an entirely different experience to me.

So, what, you must be asking yourselves, is the issue? What's the point of my post? Well, the point of my post is I'm deciding if I should try and follow a pro team this year - pick one to be loyal to and try to love it. I don't know if I can or should. I'm not even sure who to pick. The Texans, because they're the new Houston team? That could be an exercise in frustration. They suck. (Don't even THINK about the Cowboys. A Houston girl could never root for the Cowboys. That's just sick.) The Titans? Vince Young is the QB, and that's awesome. But that's Bud Adams' team. Not sure I could do that. The Colts? Peyton Manning is the QB, and we all know I love Peyton, and I did spend a semester in grad school in Indiana, so I have a connection to that state. The Packers? I love the spirit of the Packers - owned by the folks and such great history. And Brett Favre is a great guy.

I don't know. What do you all think? Do I try to embrace the pro football world or just stick with college ball and leave it at that? I have a month to decide...

No more slime in the ice machine.

Marvin Zindler has died. For those of you who aren't from Houston, this probably means nothing. But to us Houstonians (I've been an Austinite for 13 years, but I'll always be a Houstonian at heart), it's a loss of one of our icons - one more piece of my childhood disappearing into the mist.

A few of the national sites who covered Zindler's death referred to him as the guy who campaigned against the chicken ranch that spawned "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas." Yeah, he was that guy, but he was so much more. Zindler was first and foremost an investigative reporter. It was in this role that he broke the famous chicken ranch story, but Zindler's real contribution was in his tireless campaign to help the poor, elderly and just plain screwed.

Now, anyone who knows me knows I'm not a bleeding heart. But I do believe in fairness and in justice, insofar as people should do what's right and shouldn't screw over other people. It's that simple. Do what's right. Well, alot of people don't do what's right, and those people especially like to pick on powerless people. That's where Zindler came in. Zindler worked on pretty much of a daily basis to help right wrongs that had been done to people who couldn't do much to fight back. He was one of the good guys.

He also did the work of the angels in arranging countless operations for disfigured and deformed children. When Zindler came calling with a cause, people lined up to help out. People who had the means to help knew that what they were doing was for a good cause and that there was nothing more at work than a desire to do good - not line someone's pockets or grandstand for cameras. Yes, Zindler made his living on camera, but the good he did wasn't to promote himself - it was a matter of him using his platform to help people.

Of course, what most Houstonians will really remember, aside from his snow white toupee, giant blue glasses, frequent plastic surgeries and dapper suits (the man could actually carry off a cravat), is Zindler's Rat and Roach Report. Zindler used to broadcast the Houston restaurant inspection report results on the news, telling Houstonians which restaurants were winners and which were losers. Frequently, the losers had a problem with their ice machines. In Zindler's words, they were cited for "Sliiiiiime in the ICE machine!!" Ewwww. Think about that next time your sucking up a nice, iced-cola from a straw at your favorite eating establishment. Oh, and he kinda yelled his way through his reports and his sign-offs ("Marvin Zindler...EYEwitness News!"). I would imagine you always knew when Zindler was in the room.

So, Houston is a little quieter today. And a little sadder. And a little less noble. I hope someone will take up the work Zindler did. No one will be able to do it exactly like he did, though. He was an original.