Blogged Down

So this morning, I'm driving to work, and I see a Chevy Suburban type vehicle in front of me, with detailing on the back that resembled this: (please excuse the crappy artwork on my part)


See the white lines? Yeah that's what I thought too. Never again will I berate a man for being fascinated by the sight of a thong. If the car hadn't turned right away, I might have followed them wherever they were going, I was that mesmerized.

Not much is going on with me. I work, I knit, I converse with friends. Next Monday I am getting my new laminate flooring installed which I am quite excited about. Cats, feel free to puke at will on this floor - I shall wipe it up with a smile. But this weekend will suck balls for me as I'll be moving furniture.

My good friend LK and I had a conversation that worked its way around to talking meat pants. Don't ask.

Laura Kehoe: meat pants
Donna Lee: god that's a mouthful ain't it (speaking of John's nickname Pantalones de la Carne)
Donna Lee: literally and figuratively
Laura Kehoe: no wonder they talk so fast
Laura Kehoe: they have more words to say the same thing
Donna Lee: oh i thought you meant meat pants talk fast?
Laura Kehoe: you made me spit my water
Laura Kehoe: I think I'm getting loopy... but I thought of talking meat pants
Donna Lee: them is some fast-talkin meat pants
Laura Kehoe: i need a drink
Donna Lee: i'm seeing chaps made of pepperoni singing "Home on the Range"
Laura Kehoe: what about chaps made of thinly sliced roast beef?
Laura Kehoe: talking meat pants still has me laughing
Donna Lee: i see roast beef as more of a boxer material
Donna Lee: chaps need to be sturdier
Laura Kehoe: true
Laura Kehoe: like genoa salami
Laura Kehoe: a true spaghetti western
Donna Lee: now i see a line of roast beef boxers singing "It's Raining Men"
Laura Kehoe: dude, you're fucked up

I can't help it that I have a vivid imagination. I once had a dream that George Clooney and Jimmy Stewart were fighting over me. Using Jello and ball-point pens.

[Jimmy Stewart to George Clooney, as he fences with GC using a Bic pen] - "You're crazy, Clooney, you're, you're just SCREWY!!!"

Don't ask me why, I don't make the rules.

I work with a very kind European who has a very soothing voice. Soothing to the point that if I listen to him for more than 5 minutes, I am lulled into a state of comfort. And by comfort, I mean semi-consciousness. And by semi-consciousness, I mean sleep. I'm wondering if it's illegal to tape a phone call with him and use it for when I have insomnia. One night, I couldn't fall asleep, and when I finally did fall asleep, I dreamt that I still couldn't fall asleep, so I called him and asked if he would be kind enough to read War and Peace to me over the phone so I could sleep. (I'm hoping it really was a dream - if I actually did call him and ask him this, he's been tactful enough not to mention it to me)

I saw my best friend this weekend. She told me she's in a wedding and she doesn't know the bride's last name. To her credit, she and her husband are much closer to the groom than the bride, but damn.

Well, that's all the news that's fit to blog for me so far this week.

With peace, good will, and car thongs,
Donna

OK That is IT

Whoever creates the advertising campaigns for Old Navy MUST. DIE. IMMEDIATELY.

It wasn't bad enough to besmirch my fond memories of junior high and set Bermuda shorts to the soundtrack of "Fame".

NOW they have perky girls in ugly shirts mutilating the theme of my prom, Young MC's "Bust A Move".

THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE.
DIE OLD NAVY.
DIE.

p.s. in a totally unrelated point, I'm watching "Scrubs" and the snarky doc came out without his shirt on. Puuuurrrrr. Smart, snarky, and slammin' abs. Yum.

Am I the Entertainer?

For anyone reading this who doesn't know me (and I can't imagine who you might be) I am a happily single 33-yr old female who's got a steady job (well "steady" in these uncertain times anyway) and my own car and house. Obviously I haven't met the right guy, and I'm not about to conduct experiments in self-punishment in order to be with just any guy and pay my dues to couplehood.

I've always thought my requirements for a partner to be simple (perhaps deceptively simple) - he has to make me happy, and he has to make me laugh. There's TONS of guys out there who could make me laugh, but none would make me happy in the long run, and probably a lot of perfectly wonderful nice guys who might make me happy but wouldn't make me laugh. (Which I realize, is part of being happy)

Quite a few recent random thoughts and observations into my life make me wonder though. Am I expecting too much to ask that my partner be the entertainer in the relationship? The general trend I notice when I am with friends, is that I am the one making others laugh. My friends are funny, sure, but it's not often they get the big belly laugh out of me, which I guess I always expected that a partner of mine would be able to make me do. If I'm the one making my friends laugh, should I also be the one to make That Special Someone laugh, instead of the other way around? I mean, let's be honest, it's fun to be funny. I delight in making my friends laugh. I love seeing my friends send me whatever flavor of rollingonthefloorlaughing emoticon they currently use.

I find myself sometimes attracted to men who I know won't make me laugh, and I usually end up dismissing them because I feel they're too nice for me, and they won't entertain me. But usually I'm not attracted to men who can entertain me. Where's the balance? At what point do I make the trade-off? Or should I just take the first man who sits patiently through my attempts to remember and sing the theme song to Magnum P.I. - or better yet, remembers it and sings it for me so we can sing it together? (I can't imagine there are too many of those)

Beauty fades, money gets spent, but the theme to "Diff'rent Strokes" is forever.

Random Wishes for DeLayed Justice

Hi, thanks for coming back. Here we go.


The other day I was driving behind a mini-van, which had a window sticker from my high school. Then I noticed the license plate frame said "Northwestern Wildcats" which made the purple pawprint window sticker in the other corner of the rear window make more sense.

Then I noticed the entire mini-van was purple.

And I thought my Illinois wallpaper on my cell phone was lame.

"That's all right, that's ok, you're gonna work for us someday!" I bet the driver of that van sings that in his/her sleep.
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If there's anyone in the free world that I wish a "Money's on the dresser, Chocolate" moment on, it's House Majority Leader Tom DeLay. What a frigging Cornelia Unt. I think he's suckier than Bush and on the road to being suckier than Karl Rove. But people in his own party are turning against him, or at least not totally turning a blind eye to his shenanigans. (And believe me, a blind eye is easy to get when you've just had a load of Santorum spewed in your face) I don't dare to hope for too much, but I might have more faith in mankind if the Republicans bitchslapped him. Ok, no I wouldn't. But it'd be pretty sweet.
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This weekend, I went where no knitter has gone before. Ok, where I as a knitter have never gone before.

I. KNIT. A. HAT.

It's true! I knit something that was not a variant of a rectangle!!! Granted, it's a baby hat that looks like a cute fuzzy baby blue half-rolled condom with the reservoir pulled WAAAAY out. Meg would be proud. But I can knit hats now and that's all that matters. I am going to knit a bright blue one with a red stripe and tail at the top for my quasinephew Alex so that he may be properly protected against the insidious influence of his Sox-lovin' mom.
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Whoever the hell it was who went to the Cubs' home-opener and jinxed them, thanks a whole hell of a lot.
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I really hope the Wal-Marts in Germany are less gross than the Wal-Marts here. I really don't see the Wal-Marts here as somewhere to go pick up a man. However, I might be convinced to do it just for the wealth of blogging material I would get. As I am naturally a psycho freak magnet, I can't imagine what my yield would be if I purposely made myself a target for the local talent at Wal-Mart.
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The Common Cold or the Germination of Insanity

I think I am getting sick. I couldn't wake up today, and now I'm a bit achy, my head feels heavy - like Orca-heavy - and my throat is itchy. I sincerely hope this is the reason for the constant loop running through my head which alternates between the theme song from The Benny Hill Show and the theme song from Benson. If it's not due to impending illness then I might could be losing it for good.

Thanks for a Great Run, Illinois

I want it on record that the Illini's loss to UNC last night was not my fault. I did not even let the Tivo guide hover over Channel 2 at any time during the evening. Since I have been so deathly afraid to watch any games for fear of my awesome influence on sporting events running amok*, I cannot comment on their performance, but hey they got to the championship game for the first time ever for Illinois so they must not suck. Seriously, thanks to Bruce Weber and the Illini for a great run. And thanks to Michigan State for knocking out Duke. Because Duke sucks.

Go Cubs!!!

*For those of you who don't know, I have made deals with the Almighty in the past in attempts to influence the outcome of major sporting events, and they seem to be successful as long as the outcome benefits many people and my own team is not involved.

Incident #1 - In the 2002 World Series, Anaheim vs San Francisco, I promised God I would back Ohio State football the rest of the year, if Barry Bonds lost the Series. As millions of people across the country hate Barry Bonds, this outcome benefited many and I got my wish and held up my end of the deal proudly, ignoring the scorn of my fellow Illinois alumnae.

Incident #2 - Same as above, substitute 2004, Yankees, Red Sox, and Michigan. Millions hate the Yankees, got my wish again, and jumped on board the Michigan bandwagon. However, since I qualified "for the rest of the year", I did not have to root for them in the Rose Bowl which was January 1 of this year.

Incident #3 - Well, I didn't make any specific deals, but I did hope really hard for the Vikings to lose in the playoffs last year, because Randy Moss is such a bitch. I'll be doing the same thing for the Raiders this year.