Withdrawal looms

I will not get my usual fall Saturday football-o-rama this week. My friend that I'm going to the reunion with is not a football fan, so we shall not spend Saturday frantically switching among sports channels with every timeout to see what's happening with the other 4-6 games that are on that I might be interested in.

That means I had to get my fix last night with the Thurday games. It went well. For a while, Maryland kinda hung in there with West Virginia, so I switched between that and Air Force/TCU. But then West Virginia began to pull away, and Air Force began to come back, so I switched exclusively to Air Force/TCU, which was a good decision. That turned into a good game!

My policy on the service academies is that when any of them play anyone but UT, I root for the service academy. It's like rooting the America. When you root for a soldier, airman or seaman, you're rooting for the U.S. I like the idea that our servicemen are stronger, faster and tougher than the average beer-drinking, pot-smoking, reckless driving, possibly assault-committing prima donna college football player (I'm a little disgusted with UT players at the moment and their many run-ins with the law - can you tell?).

When they play each other, I only care about Army winning, because my dad is an Army vet. I don't care who wins when Air Force plays Navy.

So, I have nothing against TCU when I say that I was excited to see Air Force come back last night and I'm glad they won. Shoot, if anything, it'd be better for TCU if they ran the rest of the table. Considering the trouble we had with them, it would help us if they looked like a powerhouse. But I hate to see any U.S. military team lose anything, so I was glad Air Force rallied.

Let's just hope that'll hold me until next week. Maybe I can tape the UT game and watch it Sunday night...

I'm too plugged in.

It's official. I have too many email addresses and too many passwords to sites, accounts, etc.

For years, I had three email accounts at any given time - a work one, a home one and then a home/business one that I could use to conduct personal business (my regular home one has a UT slant to the name, and sometimes you need to look professional, not like a football fan, and sometimes you just don't want everything under the sun coming to the same account that your friends send happy hour emails to).

My home/business one had my name in it, though, so then I started a 4th email account to use for stuff where I don't want my name showing (like eBay), but again, don't necessarily want cluttering up my "friend" email.

Then blogger made me start a Google account. That's when the downhill slide started. I was able to set it up using one of my existing email accounts for sign-in information, but still - 5 accounts was a little unwieldy. Then I started my business - email #6, to reflect the business name. Then, and this is went it all went off the rails, at my regular job, we started using a shareable Google calendar. To use the calendar, you have to tie into it using a Google Gmail account. Well, I couldn't use the Gmail account for my business for obvious reasons, and I didn't want to tie my personal Gmail account to it, so, you guessed it, I opened email account #7 - a Gmail account that uses my work email stuff for sign-in information.

That's officially too many. I don't remember to check them all. And at times I need one up and have to close one to open the other and I worry I'll have the wrong one up at work. Plus, when I got my high-speed at home, they asked me if I wanted to tie my AT&T high speed account to an existing Yahoo account, and I did, not knowing that they would change my password! So, even when I use one of the accounts I've had forever, I have to keep remembering that the password has changed!

It's too much. And yet, I can't close any of them down because they're all used for different things and tied to different things and it would be a pain to go in and re-tie things around. Oy. This modern world. It's getting to me.

Reunion

Oh boy. This weekend should be interesting. It's my 20-year high school reunion.

First off, I can't get my head around the fact that it's my 20th reunion. That suggests that it's been 20 years since I graduated from high school. It practically says it positively. And that just can't be right.

Second, there's the matter of humiliating myself at my five-year reunion. "Five-year reunion?" you ask. Yes, we had one at five years. No one does that. They all wait until 10 years. That's the reasonable approach. By the 10th year, your lives have begun to settle down a bit into something resembling one another. At the 5-year mark, you're all in different places. Some people are still in college, others have just graduated, some never went and have been working all that time, some are married, some have kids, some haven't even considered a family yet, some are already divorced - you're all over the map.

So, the five-year thing is stupid to begin with. I was one of the folks just out of college and still in party mode - no spouse, no kids, no job, barely employed. Add a wee bit too much alcohol and a dance floor to the mix and you have the disaster of my first reunion. As I tentatively approach my 20-year, it weighs on me that I must live that down as part of the bargain.

Thirdly, there's the marital status thing. I'm considering keeping count of how many times I have to announce that "No, I've never been married" to the incredulity of whoever is asking. Because it's simply inconceivable (yes, you can say that like the guy in Princess Bride) that anyone, particularly female, could reach the age of 38 without having walked down the aisle at least once. The friend I'm going with assures me that she'll be equally chagrined to keep sharing the news that she's divorced, but I figure half the people there will be divorced, so that won't be awkward for long.

Fourthly, there's the question of whether anyone good will actually be there. Yeah, I know how that sounds, but it's true. If it's just all the old cheerleaders and jocks, still hangin' in their little cliques and trying to recapture the glory of some long-forgotten past of superiority...ick.

On the upside, I have a good career, look good for my age and haven't been to jail (narrow miss with that traffic ticket thing a couple of weeks ago - dodged the bullet!), so I should be able to hold my head up high. And it's going to be in a really nice hotel in downtown Houston, so it's a good venue (the 5-year was at some kind of VFW thing). And I think I'll have a lot of fun with the friend I'm going with. We were only acquaintances in high school, but we got to be friends in college and were actually roommates for a year. When we weren't having some kind of 20-year-old female spat, we laughed ALOT, so I think we'll have a blast now that we're grownups.

So, wish me luck. I'm giving myself a drink limit. That'll be a good start.

Round it up

Time for a round-up!

- Longhorns 2-0, but it's been ugly so far. The performances thus far are NOT going to get us past OU next month. So, I'd better see some butt-kicking for the next three weeks. If you're going to ask $75 for TCU tickets (sorry - I swooned for a second), you'd better look like a top-5 team. We do not.

- Britney. Britney, Britney, Britney. I didn't watch VMAs. I never do. I don't watch videos, so it seems pointless to watch the VMAs. But I've seen the video of Britney's performance, and all I can say is "Get thee to a therapist." That girl looked lost. The dancing was half-ass and the singing was most likely lyp-synched and her expression most of the time seemed to be, "What's going on?" I don't know if she was high or if she's just having a complete breakdown, but she clearly needs some help. What a mess.

- Sen. Larry Craig. Shut up and go away. You tried to have anonymous sex in an airport bathroom (ewwwww) and you got busted. What are the odds it was the first time? You clearly do not have the judgment to run this country and you need to have enough shame to get out of the limelight.

- To anyone else seeking sex in an aiport bathroom - anonymous or otherwise - STOP IT. I fly occasionally, and I often have to use the bathroom in the airport before or after a flight. When I enter the bathroom to use the facilities, I am NOT agreeing to enter the champagne room! Granted, I am female and this nastiness seems to confine itself largely to mens' rooms, but I have to think that many a male traveler feels the way I do. If he wanted to go to The Man Hole, he'd pay a cover downtown - he just wants to pee without a floor show. Go home, get a friggin' room or do it in your car, but keep your pants ON or your winkie confined to pee-related activities when in a public place, and that includes a public restroom of any kind (airport, park, etc.). In fact, let's clarify that. If you're in a public place other than a restroom, keep your pants on and zipped with nothing hanging out that shouldn't be. If you need to pee, do it in a restroom with no extracurricular activity. Does that cover it?

- The Democrats held a Spanish-language debate. I can't even bring myself to comment on this one.

- Apparently, Buzz Aldrin has said that former astronaut Lisa Nowak should be admired, but not absolved, for her resolve in confronting the woman her ex-lover had taken up with. Um...yeah...not really. You don't get points for being *really committed* to your jealous insanity.

A poem

Sippin
mocha frappuccino
love-a java
love-a Starbucks
Don't hate!
Corporate giant
But damn.
frappucino
dulce de leche latte
white chocolate mocha

In the fridge
Mexican Coke
Heaven on earth
sugar
not corn syrup!
burst of bubbles
perfection sliding
across my tongue
down my throat
(don't be dirty)

Caffeine
sugar
liquid wonder
Yeah, yeah, water
drink that, too
get off my back
tend to your own vice

Wait a second. Did I just see a topless woman in a Nutrisystem commercial?

Raise the Red Remote

Saw a great movie last night. It's called Raise the Red Lantern. It's kind of like Big Love, only in Chinese and without the humor. But don't let the fact that it's tragedy instead of comedy scare you away if you have the chance to see it somewhere. It's very powerful. It's full of intrigue and tension. I was telling a co-worker about it this morning, and I swear I could've been describing a season of Dynasty...except Blake would've been married to Crystal and Alexis at the same time.

Another evening of intrigue and tragedy was had on Sunday. My friends and I played a TV trivia game, and many lessons were learned. Among them:

1. I am NOT the TV trivia ringer we all dreamed I would be (that's the tragic part).

2. Dave IS a trivia ringer, apparently for any subject. Thus, from now on, when we play a trivia game of any kind, Dave will constitute a team unto himself, and the rest of us may band together as a team against him. Sorry man - it's lonely at the top.

3. Don't let Tony have the remote and a cocktail at the same time.

4. Ridley is destined to fall in love easily and often.

5. Julia picks great gifts.

My parting thought for the day: I *love* short weeks! It's already Wednesday, people!!

For Judy

I'm supposed to be on my way to a Labor Day barbecue. We decided to do it Sunday instead of Monday so we could stay up late if we so chose and not be tired for our return to work on Tuesday. They should make the Mondays after Super Bowl Sundays a holiday for the same reason. But I digress.

Incidentally, I've thought of renaming my blog that - "But I digress." I kinda snicker whenever I type it now. It's kind of inside joke. If you read this blog with any regularity, you know I do that alot. That is, I digress, and I type, "But I digress." It's kind of like Columbo's "Just one more thing.." But you know what? Even this paragraph is a digression. So, I'll get back to my point.

My point was that I'm supposed to be on my way to Pflugerville for a BBQ, but I'm trapped at a coffee shop. I came here to do a little writing and enjoy a decadent coffee drink (a yummy concoction of coffee, chocolate, vanilla, and coconut, iced...zowie), but literally 2 minutes before I was going to shut down my computer and head north, the sky opened up, and now it is pouring. And I don't have an umbrella. And I have to stop at the grocery store around the corner to grab meet to grill. So, you see, I'll get completely soaked running to the car, then running to the store, then running back to my car. And this is BEFORE I get to the BBQ. I don't care if I get caught in the rain after I leave an event. Who cares if I arrive home looking like drowned rat? I just want to look decent at the event. And besides, I'm wearing a white t-shirt. Who do you think I am - Britney?

So this means I have to wait for the rain to let up before I can leave the coffee shop. I've finished the writing I needed to do for the day, and I've called my host and alerted them to the situation, so they know I'm detained. That left me with some time on my hands, a computer, and a high-speed connection. That equals a blog post.

So, here it is! I think I'll quickly address the comment on my post from yesterday. Judy lamented that I changed my original post from yesterday. Yes, I did. My original post was a diatribe on the sanctity of football. I related it to the Va Tech situation - how the media now is in mad love with Va Tech - wants them to win every game, and the unenviable position that puts any of their opponents in. The rain is letting up a bit, so I'll hurry and try to remake my point.

Football is football. Football isn't a social soapbox. It isn't a political event. It isn't charity. Football is not the moment for all of us to say, "If there is a God, they will win a national championship because they had an awful thing happen to them." First of all, Va TEch would trade a national championship for the lives of the students that were lost any day of the week. As would LSU to have their city back. As would Texas A&M to have the students back who died in the bonfire collapse. As would UT to have the students back that the Tower Shooter murdered. So on and so forth.

Second of all, if you want life to return to normal, you behave normally. That means not turning every single one of their games into a retrospective of the shooting. You focus on the football. You let the students cheer. You let the players play. And (and here's the important part) you let the opponents play. If they win, you don't act like it's a disappointment and take away from those players what they've accomplished. You don't act like the other team should pull their punches. You don't act like the shooter somehow gave the Va Tech players super powers. You let them play, and you let it play out the way it would if the tragedy had never happened. That's how you give that community back its normalcy.

Football is football. It's hits, passes, tackles, penalties, scoring and running like hell on an open field to the roar of the crowd. It's rough. It's fun. It's awesome. And the emotion and passion that abound in a full stadium isn't about what happens outside the stadium. It's about what happens on the field. There are no terrorists. There are no plane crashes, mass murderers, hurricanes or race riots. There's no room for agendas. It's not a statement. It's not a sign. It's a game. For 3 glorious hours, it's a game. Let the players play. Let the fans cheer or curse or whatever is appropriate based on the action. Let them all escape what happened before they entered the stadium and what might be waiting when they get out, and let them enjoy it - whatever the outcome.

For 3 hours, just focus on the game, media. Just let football be football.

(Happy, Judy? I hope so, because I gotta go now and I don't have any time to perfect this post!)

Football. Need I say more?

Halle-booyah!! It's the first Saturday of college football! Happy, happy, day.

The only things adversely affecting my ability to enjoy this holy day to its fullest are:

1. I'm having to focus my attention largely on the online defensive driving course I'm taking as I try to keep up with the numerous games on TV at any given time today (Let's not worry about why I have to take defensive driving. Just assume that it's not for the insurance discount.). The good news is that my spiffy new DSL connection even makes it possible for me to do defensive driving while sitting on my couch in front of the TV. Count your blessings where you find them.

2. I sold my UT game tickets because I was going to go out of town this weekend. It's Labor Day weekend, and I thought it'd be nice to take a long weekend as a mini-vacation somewhere. I could watch the game on TV. But thanks to the ticket that led to my defensive driving and my new washer purchase, my budget didn't really support a mini-vacation anymore. And now I find out the UT game is only on pay-per-view! Sonofab... Okay. I'll listen to the radio broadcast. It'll be old school.

Despite my bad fortune with tickets and pay-per-view and whatnot, I'm enjoying my first marathon day of college football. I got to see Appalachian State take out Michigan, which is unfrigginbelievable. And Virginia Tech has now gotten their first game of the season out of the way, and they won, so maybe now we can stop having 24-hour coverage of "Virginia Tech: After The Tragedy." Probably not. No disrespect intended. I can just see that this will be like LSU after Katrina. Their entire season is going to be one continual rehash of the tragedy they experienced. "Hokies score! This will help them forget the tragedy. Here's a video tribute, though, so you won't." Before the game. Time-outs. Half-time. After the game. All season. Oy.

I realize it's recent, so right now, the Va Tech community probably appreciates the attention and the media favor. But I have to assume they will eventually get like UT did about the Tower Shooter - so beyond sick of hearing about it and so sick of people only seeming to know that about you. I hate to tell you guys, Va Tech, but it ain' nevuh goin' to go away. From now until forever, it's going to come up when anyone talks about mass murderers, gun control, college campus crime, mental health, your school in any capacity - someone will probably find a way to work it into a conversation about Fedex, NBC and Pho noodles eventually. And you'll grit your teeth. But I digress.

Back to football. I've watched pieces of I don't know how many games so far today. I intend to continue that into the night. God bless the PAC-10 and their games that start around the time I'm usually going to bed. My, how I love this time of year. :)

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.

My backyard is a metaphor.

Been busy the last week - sorry for the lack of posts. I was out of town on business the latter half of last week, then had a busy weekend. Some of it was social (saw the movie "No Reservations" - it was good, but not stellar - and went to a house-warming), but mostly I tried to get caught up on some sleep and had a bunch of stuff to do around the house. How is it that I got a lot done, but I still seem to have a list a mile long?

I still haven't attempted to attack the backyard, which is truly out of hand now. I'm going to have to go back there with a weedeater just to get the grass down enough to mow it. It's just been so blasted hard to get enough of a break from the rain to do anything. I'm hoping tonight I can get started on the weedeater portion of things. We'll see. I haven't been terribly motivated lately.

I need to do it, though. I'm going to lose my cat back there if I'm not careful. I'm surprised I haven't already had nightmares about it. Not that I haven't had any nightmares. With some of what's going on in my life right now, that's a given. There are a couple of things causing me a lot of stress/anxiety/grief right now, and there's almost no way that my stress/anxiety/grief doesn't come through in a nightmare sooner or later. The other night, I dreamed that I'd been kidnapped. In the dream, the guy who kidnapped me had mistaken me for a young boy (it's a dream people - I don't think I look like a boy), and he kidnapped me because he was going to hold me captive, sexually abuse me and then probably kill me.

I managed to get to the bathroom before his first assault, and I got the attention of some neighbors out the window and tried to make them understand what was happening, and they kind of seemed to get it, but they wouldn't do anything, so I wasn't sure if they understood or not. Then the guy came in, and when he realized that I was trying to signal the neighbors and escape, he started to attack me. He managed to get his hand in my shirt and was pressing his fingernails into my sternum - it almost burned, and I was just trying desperately to keep him from touching any other part of me and to pull his hand away so the nails would stop digging into me. It was during this struggle that I woke up. In terror. I was afraid to go back to sleep for a while - I was afraid if I went back to sleep too quickly the dream would pick back up. So, I lay there, trying to normalize my breathing and get it through my head that I was safe in my house and all was well. It's such a pleasure being me.

Anyway, I'll see if I can't make some headway on my yard. And on my psyche.

Stupid Netflix.

When I was in 7th grade, in school we learned about the stock market. I don't really know what we learned - I was 13 with a mind built for spelling, so I have no idea what I could have absorbed beyond "buy low, sell high." But as part of the lesson, we had a contest. I think we picked stocks, and the person who had the highest value portfolio at the end of the quarter won a $50 savings bond. Guess who won? That's right - yours truly! The math-challenged student won the stock contest!

Ever since then, I've wanted desperately to play on the stock market. By "play" I honestly mean just to play. I wanted to have a certain amount of money that I could use to buy specific stocks (not indexed funds or any other sort of conglomeration - actual, individual stocks) that I researched and picked based on some sort of logic or system for fun. It would be okay if I lost the money. It would be a hobby or a game or whatever you want to call it. It would be entertainment.

The problem was, I never had enough of loose cash to play like that. I didn't want to get into DRIPs or any of that mess. I just wanted a straight-up e-Trade account where I did my own buys and sells and let the chips fall where they may.

Well, my stock mogul dream finally came true about a month ago. I got a big check for all my unused leave time from my old job, and after investing as much as the law would allow in my Roth IRA account, I decided to use the rest (or at least most of the rest) to open up a TD Ameritrade and get to tradin'!

I researched stocks and subscribed to newsletter from The Motley Fool and picked my stocks. When the account was all set up, I made my first purchases. I bought some Apple, because I knew the iPhone was coming out, and I had high hopes. I LOVE Mac products, and one of the stock gurus I've been learning from says that's one of the methods for picking stocks - investing in things you know and love. At first, that one wasn't doing much. People were trying to hate on the iPhone just before it came out. The stock suffered. But then the iPhone actually hit stores, and it's been all love from there - as of today, my stock is up 13% - woohoo!

One of the other companies I bought was Netflix. I love Netflix. And so do my friends. I know many people who have it and love it, and I read that they had plans to enter the download movie market, so I felt good about the direction they were headed. Motley Fool agreed with me. That's a buy. It went well for quite a while - not huge leaps forward, but in the black. Makin' me a little sumpin' sumpin'. We had one little blip when they lowered the price on one of their plans, but it came back.

Well, those stupid boneheads at Netflix decided to do it again - lower their prices again and on more than one plan! This time they're essentially telegraphing that they're starting to panic - that the competition is getting to them - they're not making it!! Thanks alot, Netflix. That one stock has now taken such a nosedive that it's pulled down my entire portfolio. My entire portfolio is now in the red because of stupid Netflix.

It's not down a lot, and as I said from the start, this is my play money. Nothing bad happens if I lose it. But still - it's so much more fun to make money than it is to lose it. Good thing I still have that savings bond from 7th grade.

*Update - okay, so as the day wears on, my portfolio as a whole has gone back into the black...but I still say "Stupid Netflix!" (I have to admit, I AM having fun with all this! :))

Napolean complex

I'm about to make a stereotype here, so I should start with a disclaimer. The stereotype I'm going to discuss is about short men. I should say up front that it does not apply to ALL short men. I not only know some short men who are not like this stereotype, I've even dated a few. And believe me, if the guys I dated had been remotely like this, I wouldn't have given them the time of day, much less dated them. So, that's my disclaimer. If you're a short guy, and you know this isn't you, don't take offense.

That said, I've met enough short men that DO fit this description for me to know it's true. Stereotypes develop for a reason.

The stereotype I'm talking about is the Napolean complex. In a nutshell, men suffering from this affliction are short men who feel that their stature in some way diminishes their manhood, so they have to make up for it by being angry, arrogant, pushy, short-tempered, loud, obnoxious - in general, assholes. If they are able to wrangle the least bit of power, they will use it like a club to beat anyone they can into submission. They're yellers. They're sarcastic. They're impatient. They have to belittle you to feel good about themselves.

Napoleanites, as I shall call them here, feel that they have to be as overtly manly, in the worst possible way, to remind you that they are, in fact, men. They are, in a word, pathetic. My dad use to say it simply: "Small men and small dogs." He didn't have to say more. Watch a small dog barking and snarling at some Irish Wolfhound, simply for walking nearby, and you get the picture.

Well, here's a newsflash to all you Napoleanites out there: no one buys it. We don't think you're manly. We're think you are (as I said above) pathetic. You are tiny little men in the way that counts - not as a measure of your height, but as a measure of your personhood.

You don't come off as strong. You come off as out-of-control, insecure, mean, unstable, unpleasant and afraid. Let's take two examples of men who appear to be anything BUT those things - and I'll pick one from each side of the political aisle so as to appeal to all readers: Bill Clinton and Ronald Reagan. Pick the one you like, and then let's ask these questions:

1. Can you picture this guy yelling at someone to get something he wants done?
2. Can you picture this man firing off a sarcastic, mass email about something someone has done that he doesn't like, rather than just talking like a rational human being to whoever did it?
3. Can you picture this guy starting a fight, or better yet, beating the crap out of a copier when it doesn't do what he wants (when all it would really take is actually pushing a few buttons to get the setting he needs)?
4. Can you picture this guy in a meeting, sitting back in his chair with a smug smirk while someone tries to present something to him, as if to say, "You amuse me with your insignificance"?

No. You probably can't picture of any of these things. Because a real man, who is confident of his abilities and secure with himself doesn't need to do any of those things. He treats people with respect and dignity and makes them feel valued. And people know they can approach him, and he will listen - even if he doesn't give them the answer they want, he won't diminish them. And these qualities have nothing to do with how tall you are. They do, however, have everything to do with how small you look.

Sad.

I'm at a coffee shop today on my lunch hour. I wanted to do some personal computer stuff. But before I get to that, I really have to blog.

See, I'm looking at a woman who works here at the coffee shop. She so clearly has an eating disorder, it's painful to look at her. Aside from just the difficulty of seeing someone so emaciated, it's like her body is a reflection of some kind of inner pain. You know that a person doesn't develop that kind of thing in a vacuum. It's not like cancer or mutiple sclerosis or something. You don't just wake up with it one day.

You develop it in your own mind, usually as a way to control the one thing that you think you can. Which means you feel an utter loss of control in the other aspects of your life. Or maybe it's sometimes even more simple than that. Maybe you were heavy once, or someone just said you were, and it triggered something monumental in your mind - something that ballooned into an atomic explosion of disconnect and self-loathing.

Who knows what this girl's story is? I can tell you that she would be beautiful if her weight were normal. I don't mean she'd be attractive. I'm attractive - sometimes called cute and to a select few beautiful in their eyes. But this girl, she'd be beautiful. And you know she doesn't see it. She looks in the mirror, every day of her life, and she sees something...something else. She doesn't see what's true, because something else has power over her. Something else has corrupted her eyes, her mind, her life. And it will be the fight of her life to ever conquer it...if it doesn't kill her first.

It makes me sad.

I done been tagged.

Okay, Judy tagged me with a meme, so my post for today is covered!

THE RULES:
List 8 facts/habits about yourself.
Post the rules at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.
Tag 8 people and post their names, go to their blogs and leave them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and ask them to read your blog.

Alright, here are 8 facts about me:

1. I am short. I've been called "tiny" on several occasions, but I think that only applies if you're under 5' - I am 5'3", so I am merely short.
2. I am conflicted about my meat-eater status. I love animals, and if I had to kill my own food, I don't think I could look into a cow's soft brown eyes and do the deed. But I like me a burger with bacon, guac and monterrey jack. So for me, burgers don't come from cows - they come from Hut's.
3. I love to drive too fast and listen to my music too loud, and I frequently talk on my cell phone (using a hands-free device) while I'm driving (in large part because my cell phone barely works inside my house, and I can't talk at work, so when I'm driving around is the best time for me to talk). However, I will say angry things about other people who do the same things. Me: multi-tasker. Them: menaces.
4. Brad Pitt has never particularly done anything for me.
5. I'm somewhat phobic about bugs, but only if they touch me. They're allowed to live and be in my general area, but if they get on me, I can't be responsible for the mayhem that results.
6. I love breakfast food anytime.
7. I don't have to have my house *clean*, but it has to be neat, or I get anxious.
8. I hate shirts that are tight under my arm pits.

Now for my 8 people. One small problem with this one. I only have 2 friends with blogs - one sent this to me and the other would never post a meme on his blog. So, I won't be tagging anyone, but if you visit my blog, please feel free to answer in the comment section!

One day closer to the next day.

The weekend in review:

Friday night I saw the new Harry Potter movie at the IMAX. I've never seen a Harry Potter movie or read any of the books. I have nothing against it, per se, I just generally avoid things that involve people dressing in costume and camping out for opening day. But my company bought us the tickets and let us close up shop early to attend, so I had nothing to lose. I did, in fact, enjoy it, so no complaints. The 3D part was much improved over the last 3D movie I saw - Jaws 612, I think it was. In that one, you wore the glasses for the entire 2 hours, and the payoff for wearing the bulky, uncomfortable plastic mask was an occasional half-eaten fish floating at you off the screen.

Saturday night I went with my crew out to Canyon Lake to see Mingo Fishtrap. Mingo was, of course, awesome as always. You just really couldn't ask for anyone to do what they do any better than they do it. Love 'em. But we were a little miffed at the venue. The crowd was pretty small because the venue was a rather out-of-the-way place. When we got there, they up-sold us. We had general admission tickets, and they convinced us to pay an extra $50 to sit in an area that had actual picnic tables and was located facing the stage (the general admission area was to the side). We thought it would be more comfortable and were fine with paying the extra dough (okay, Jason paid for it, but the rest of us offered to pitch in!), but once the show started, we began to notice the $50 area filling up more and more with people who were not wearing wrist-bands for the area. Eventually, the entire crowd was in there. The venue did *nothing* to patrol the area. So, we paid $50 for nothing because we could've just sat in there for free like everyone else. Not happy about that. But lesson learned for next time.

Sunday, I paid a short visit to the folks' and then spent the rest of the day trying to get stuff done around the house. I succeeded in making a great many piles of "stuff I need to do something with." I'm not sure I didn't just ratchet up my own anxiety.

In news from the outside world, this: Lindsay Lohan is out of rehab. Insert your own cynical comment because it's just not worth my creative energy to come up with anything. Or just save it for the next time she goes.

They're here.

The Beckhams are here. Woo-hoo.



I wonder if anyone has actually explained to them that no one in the U.S. actually gives a crap about soccer. Oh, there are a few people here and there who care, for reasons none of the rest of us can fathom. Most were born somewhere else, but a handful were born here. We can't really explain what happened with the latter group. David Beckham is nice enough to look at (except in the photo above, where he looks like a heroin addict - good God, don't these people EAT?), but frankly, unless he plans on putting on some pads and a helmet and learning how to forward pass with his HANDS, I can't imagine it's going to create much of a sensation here among us regular folk. But welcome Famous European Who Could Be Sitting Next To Me And I Wouldn't You.

And the Spice Girls? I'm guessing their songs will soon be on Geritol ads, so I can't get excited about "Posh" setting up shop here - not that I was excited back when the Spice Girls were actually popular. Mostly now, when I look at her, I just think, "Someone get that woman a sandwich. And cram it down her throat even if she fights you." I may have issues sometimes with this part of my body or that part, but I have NO desire to look like Victoria Beckham. She looks like she's been in a concentration camp for the last 3 years.

I have no idea if the Beckhams are nice people. Maybe they are. I have no problem with them moving here. And best of luck to them both in their careers, though I can't imagine that playing soccer in L.A. is what Becks dreamed of as a child. But whatever. At least they won't be requesting that we put our signs and election ballots in another language.

Lady Bird is gone.

Lady Bird Johnson died yesterday. Lady was the right moniker for her. She was truly that.



In many ways, she reminded me of my maternal grandmother. They kind of looked alike. They were around the same age. And there was a forgiving, maternal quality about the two of them that made you love them with your complete heart. When you were loved by my grandmother, you knew it. And it was a gift from God. I miss her more than I can say. And with Lady Bird's passing, I feel her loss again, because Lady Bird was a living reminder of her.

Lady Bird led an extraordinary life. She was a bright woman that many people underestimated because her intellect came wrapped in a gentile, East Texas package. That's another mistake I've seen the wider world make too often. But that's okay - she knew who she was and so did LBJ. He didn't always do what he should - it's pretty well conceded he wasn't always faithful - but he did love her, and she him. And she bore whatever indignities he committed with a grace that just about no one carries anymore. Too bad for all of us.

She cared about the environment. She cared about people. She cared about this country. She cared about Texas. She cared about her family. She did good with her time on this Earth, and she showed us by example how we could all do a little better - in many aspects of our lives. She will be missed.

(He speaks the truth: http://www.statesman.com/ap/mediahub/media/slideshow/index.jsp?tId=26203

It's just so wrong.

I just found out some really upsetting news. The evil warlocks at Paramount are remaking Footloose!

I know, I know. It's unconscionable. Footloose is perfect the way it is. Kevin Bacon (do they REALLY think so newbie can step into The Bacon's dancin' shoes - spare me), a young and undiscovered Sarah Jessica Parker, Sean Penn's brother. And the music! Kenny Loggins. Sammy Hagar. Ann Wilson and Mike Reno. Dancin' in the Sheets! Let's hear it for the boy!! I can SEE the 80s hair, just TALKING about it!!!

I'm SICK at the thought of a 21st-century reimagining with some Lindsay Lohan spawn in the Ariel role or Ren's character driving - what? A Mini Cooper? Oh god. I just can't think about it.

Can we not leave the classics alone??? Did they learn nothing when they remade Psycho???

Politicians make my blood boil.

I've talked before on this blog about apologies - good ones, bad ones, non ones. It seems that Lousiana Senator David Vitter (Republican for those who care) has given us new material with which to address this topic, and I'm none too happy about it.

I'm annoyed that I'm having to address it again, because I'm not bringing it up to praise Vitter. I'm using his arrogant apology to point out to another example of what you shouldn't do when apologizing. Arrogant, you say? He was arrogant? Yes. He was.

Vitter's name showed up in a madam's phone book. Seems he couldn't keep it in his pants when away from his wife and children and was even willing to pay to break his marriage vows. And now we all know about it. Okay. So, what with him being active in the Giuliani campaign (don't you know Rudy wants to bitch-slap him?), he's got to apologize publicly. So he did.

He started off okay. He says it's a serious sin. He accepts full responsibility. But then he says he asked for forgiveness from God and received it. That's where he loses me. See, I believe that if you ask God sincerely for forgiveness - and sincerity is key - you get it. He probably is forgiven. BUT when you're asking someone ELSE for forgiveness, don't play the "God forgives me" card, because implicit in that is, "God forgave me, so you should, too, and it shouldn't be an issue anymore."

First of all, there's the timing. God knew what you did when you did it. He had plenty of time to wait around for you to feel bad about it and then admit it and ask forgiveness. The rest of us just now heard about it, so the implication that we should also forgive you today, the moment we hear about it - well, the public may need a bit more time. And don't say that the public's forgiveness is irrelevant - you didn't just betray your wife. You held yourself up as some kind of bearer of public morality - Mr. Family Values - and now we know you are in no position to be telling any of us how to behave.

Secondly, there's the implication itself that God forgave you so we should. Yet again, we find YOU telling US what to do and basing it in some kind of moral authority. You know what God wants - you've discussed it and now you're telling us, as an informed messenger of The Most Holy One (not the pope - I'm assuming he's not involved, since the current pope would probably cut your willie off for diddling a prostitute). So we should all do as we're told. Granted, you don't say outright that we should forgive you, but the fact that you're telling us that God and your wife have given you a pass...well, the implication is there. Why tell us that if you weren't suggesting something? Anyone who heard you say that felt uncomfortable about it - they just may not have known why.

Lastly, there's the apology for letting people down "in any way." When people say that, there's a sense that they don't really know how exactly they let you down, but okay, you feel let down so whatever it was I did to let you down, sorry. It's a mild form of the non-apology. "Sorry you feel bad for whatever it is you feel I did." He knows what he did, but he seems to minimize why others may feel let down because of it. He should've just left the "in any way" off and just said he was sorry to the people he let down. Period. He let them down, he gets how and why, and he's sorry. End of story.

Apologies are not complicated. They're really not. They may be hard, because it requires you to acknowledge that you did something wrong, to accept responsibility for it, and to make yourself vulnerable to the possibility that the other person might not accept it. But they're not complicated. You don't justify what you did. You don't tell the other person how to handle your apology (that they should, for instance, forgive you like God did, or let it go, etc.). You don't suggest that what you did wasn't that bad, or it's all about the other person's hyperactive emotions rather than what you did. You don't just say, "Sorry" without acknowledging what you're sorry for.

You just plain accept responsiblity for what you did, acknowledge why the other person is hurt by it, say you're sorry and take your lumps. And you do every bit of it sincerely. That's it. The vast majority of the time, you do that, you'll be forgiven and people will move on much faster. You don't, they'll continue to feel resentment and it'll never completely be over.

Lame day

Having trouble deciding what to post about today - not because I can't get motivated about anything, but because there are so many things rattling around in my brain. I can't decide which one to focus on. I've tried twice to post and given up both times as I got interrupted by other things and then lost interest in continuing the original post.

Oh hey - some guy just walked past my office. Big dude with a bluetooth phone thingie in his ear. Who is that? We're a small office and there's only one other person past my office. Guess he was going to see her. She's not there. Who IS he? Her husband?

I had a dream last night that our office had some kind of "team-building" event going on - a party or a happy hour or something, I don't know. But some of my co-workers were sitting around in a circle, and it turned out one of them was a medium, and he had a spirit guide who would predict the future for people who worked in the office. I joined the group, thinking it would be fun to hear my future, only to be told I was going to be fired, and I got the impression it would be soon.

I was understandably upset in the dream, what with just having started my job and now all my co-workers know I'm going to be fired. I then woke up, and of course, tried to figure out what I'd done that I'd be fired for. Then I woke up a little more and tried to talk myself into believing that it was just a garden-variety nightmare, not a sign of some kind.

I've had to take two calls today from people I don't know. I've apparently crossed some sort of "new employee" line where I'm now expected to take the calls that someone who actually knows this job would take. Except I don't know that much yet, so I couldn't answer their questions. One was rude and the other was mildly exasperated and exasperating, since I couldn't seem to get through to her that I DON'T KNOW!

My head hurts.

A proud nation thanks you.

Well, we can hold our heads up high again. Joey Chestnut has given us back our pride. That's right, folks, the Mustard Belt is back in American hands, as it should be.

Don't know what the Mustard Belt is? For shame. Turn in your flag and move to China, ya freakin' commie.

The Mustard Belt is the hot dog eating championship - hot dogs and buns, to be precise. For several years now, a skinny Japanese guy named Kobayashi has pounded an absurd number of hot dogs and buns down his gullet to humiliate us Americans. To be out-eaten by a ASIAN??? We're AMERICANS! No one should be out-gorging the Americans. It's obscene. The world tells us on a regular basis that we're fat, greedy pigs, so by God we should have the title.

Well, thank you, Joey Chestnut for righting the wrong that has been done all these years - and on July 4th, no less. You are a hero, my friend. There was some talk of a sore jaw on Kobayashi's part - perhaps there were those who knew that Joey was going to take Kobayashi down, and they were trying to build in an excuse. "Yashi [as I shall call him - it's too annoying to type out his whole name every time] was playing injured, man! It's a tainted win!"

Don't even go there. Yashi was slamming dogs like no tomorrow. If he was in pain, he wasn't showing it. He was shoving weiners in and dipping his buns in water to create that foul bread-paste that presumably goes down easier and never flinching. Until.

Until when? If you don't know the answer to that, you weren't watching. Because anyone watching will be somewhat damaged by what they saw in the final seconds of this mammoth contest. As the final seconds ticked by, Joey was forcing in his 66th hot dog (in 10 minutes? 15? I don't know - it's more than 2 in 20 minutes, so that's well beyond anything I'm capable of), and Yashi was close behind, trying to make some last-minute push. That's when it happened. Kobayashi, World's Greatest Eater, America's Foe, suffered a "reversal." That's what the announcers called it. A reversal. To you and me, it means that he vomited into his own hands, which were pressed against his face. His eyes showed panic, and he tried to force the mushy puke back into his mouth, thinking that maybe no one would notice or he might not be penalized for the "loss." Um...dude...it's on TV. We didn't just see it when it happened, we saw it twice more in slo-mo. It was one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen. WE were penalized.

Joey stood firm, his 66 dogs hanging out in some sort of slosh in his stomach. But he showed nary a moment's discomfort. Yashi, it was all he could do to keep from a full-on reversal. Joey, he said, "I could eat another if I had to." That's my boy. THAT's an American! In the end, Yashi was only credited with 63 hot dogs. The ones he vomited up - those don't count. So, Joey was solidly declared the victor.

And another American hero goes into the record books.

I hear blue is a fetching color.

I used to like Nicholas Cage. I did! I laughed often and heartily at "Honeymoon in Vegas." I probably still would if I watched it again. But somewhere along the way, Nick got kind of...odd. He veered down his own little path, and that path needed some paving, or even some gravel.

But did Nick pave? Did Nick put down some gravel? No, he did not. He left it dusty and rutted, and occasionally it rains and gets all muddy and Nick seems to have trouble navigating.

There are the lame movies. The failed marriages. The Elvis fascination. The naming of his latest child after Superman's dad (just go ahead and set up a therapy fund now, Nick). And he seems to take himself just a wee bit seriously.

With all of this on the plate, it's not surprising that his oldest son is emerging as also a bit on the unusual side. I'm sure that he and Nick characterize it as some form of "creative," but I'm just going to go ahead and say that this is a kid with tough times ahead. See for yourself:



Apparently, Nick and Eldest Son are making some comic book movie called "Voodoo Child," presumably because it's important to be goth and dark, so no one mistakes you for mainstream, which we all know is synonymous with being shallow and stupid.

So far as I can tell from this photo, he's a fatter, gother version of Nick. And you know what? That wasn't necessary. The world didn't need another version, and if we did, we'd want one more normal.

This also begs a bigger question: WHEN will the goth fad finally have its blood all sucked out and die??? I'm so bored with it. Someone needs to explain to these people that it's no longer cutting edge, cool, mysterious or mistaken for angst and, therefore, depth. It's just a fashion that's past its prime. Put on a little color and stop pretending you're fascination with death makes you unique. We're all fascinated with it on some level. Why do you think we rubber-neck at car accidents? So, get over it. Try listening to Katrina and the Waves. Dye your hair blonde. And drive a VW Bug. You'll love it. It'll be great.

First-hand account

Well, I finally saw for myself the magnitude of what's been going on at the lakes around here. It really is pretty amazing.

Saturday night, Ang was singing with the band Wall Street out at Carlos and Charlie's, which is on Lake Travis. For those who don't know, CnC has two parts - the main restaurant and a patio area. The restaurant floats, but the patio is permanent.

A month ago, when we went boating on Lake Travis, we went to CnC and you had to walk up what amounted to about two stories worth of stairs to get from the boat dock to the patio/street level. When I went on Saturday, the water was at patio level - whoa!!

Ang told us that CnC's management had told Wall Street the band might have to wrap things up early, because the lake level was supposed to rise throughout the evening. I guess they were opening up dam gates again. In any case, throughout their show, you'd see people slipping over to the side of the stage to see where the water level was as it crept up the stairs that would normally lead down to the docks (which were now floating right next to us). Just before midnight, the water finally breached the patio, and that was it for the show - the band had to stop so they could get their equipment put away before it got wet! Crazy.

I've never seen the lake this high. I admit, I don't get out there as much as I'd like to. The last time we had flooding like this, in 1998, I think, I saw Town Lake incredibly high, but what I saw Saturday was way more impressive.

Mother Nature. She'll put you in your place.