Accomplishments and Annoyances

Welcome to my stream of consciousness.

Why do I doubt that Tag Body Spray for Men actually makes women's blouses pop open? I really think that's more due to shoddy manufacturing (Nothing against the poor sweatshop kids, it's impossible to produce haute couture when making shirts for 20 hours a day at a penny a shirt)

My dog is Tom Cruise. This piece is delightful, although I do think it insults dogs. Scientologists, I can still hear Tom Cruise talking. I distinctly recall politely asking you to do something about that. I was flipping channels this weekend and came across Jerry Maguire. I realized that I was able to stomach most of this movie because Tom Cruise in the role of smarmy clueless asshole really clicks for me. It's just so natural. Although the movie sucked in that you never believe that his character and Renee Zellweger's really fell in love. Oh let's get married, oh let's break up, oh let's spend 14 minutes apart and realize that we really ARE in love so Tom Cruise can deliver a crappy teary monologue only to be interrupted by Renee Zellweger admitting that she's easy. Whatever.

I knitted a lace scarf for my friend Brenda's birthday. Yes sports fans, I can do lace. Sort of. It's a pain in the butt though - I might do one for my mom for Christmas, kind of like a table runner thing, but I don't think I'll do those too often. Especially not in the face of 8 (or is it 10?) birthdays I have to handle in the Sept-Dec timeframe. BEFORE Christmas.

Queen of the Universe's blog spurred me into finishing Life of Pi which I bought many moons ago and never finished. It started off good, but kind of slow, so I got distracted, but it gets really good in the second half, in my opinion. The sheer extent and detail of the author's (Yann Martel) imagination is just dazzling. Sometimes depressing and horrifying, but dazzling. I have a couple of depressing books on the Rwandan genocide to work on now, including A Sunday by the Pool in Kigali.

I REALLY want to see March of the Penguins. I don't know why but I am just a sucker for penguins. (For anyone who wants to theorize that it's my subconscious desire to be surrounded by tuxedo-clad creatures - like I would be at say, my wedding - I'm here to tell you...hmm, maybe. But I doubt it. And if I marry someone who actually walks like a penguin, he will need to have a lot of other redeeming characteristics.)

I discovered during the Daily Show's interview with Sen. Rick Santorum, that I actually have something in common with the junior Republican senator from Pennsylvania. And no, it's not a secret desire for hot anal action. It seems he's written a book called It Takes a Family (super original title by the way, Ricky) and his take-home message is that personal accountability and learning of virtue starts at home. The family has the first and strongest influence on teaching a child right from wrong. Bravo!!! Excellent!!! TWO THUMBS WAY UP!!!

However, he went on to say that it is thus government's duty to protect the best, most ideal structure of family, which of course is man + woman = good babbies. Jon Stewart asked something along the lines of - would it not be better for a committed, loving, homosexual couple or a single parent who don't have an intimate relationship with cocaine to raise a child rather than say, an alcoholic or otherwise abusive heterosexual couple? Santorum sputtered (ain't THAT a visual by the way - Santorum sputtering) that this was comparing best case vs. worst case. Um, yeah? So? Those best and worst cases DO HAPPEN. OFTEN. Also I noticed that Sen. Santorum's face is unusually smooth and hairless, as though he had laser hair removal. Or he's a FemBot.

Well, it's off to bed for me, I have to get up and listen to my second-most sweet baboo-ey of sweet baboo's tomorrow first thing in the morning.

Toodles!

D

My Eyes on John (Or Pacifying a Blog-Challenged Crybaby)

My friend John who replied to my previous questionnaire insisted I answer the questions for him even though he no longer has a blog of his own because as he puts it, he needs "luv"

My Answers for John
1. Who are you? Pharaoh. And don't forget it.
2. Are we friends? As much as a white man and asian woman can be friends without a contract and monetary compensation.
3. When and how did we meet? At Maestro Commerce when I was hired. The mook didn't even stand up to greet me.
4. Do you have a crush on me? No.
5. Would you kiss me? No.
6. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. Mook.
7. Describe me in one word. Mook.
8. What was your first impression? EVERYONE here scares me. I want my mommy.
9. Do you still think that way about me now? Only when the wafro is particularly belligerent.
10. What reminds you of me? Fried chicken, butter, and farts
11. If you could give me anything what would it be? Fried chicken for life
12. How well do you know me? Just as well as I want to, and NO MORE.
13. When's the last time you saw me? When we saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and John gave his chicken and gnocchi to complete strangers
14. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? No, I don't want to anger the CIA. But I'm sure Karl Rove will eventually tell John for me.
15. Are you going to put this on your blog and see what I say about you? No.

All Eyes on ME

Stolen from the Sarchasm and Cillic Braindump, here are the questions, do what you will

1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. Do you have a crush on me?
5. Would you kiss me?
6. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
7. Describe me in one word.
8. What was your first impression?
9. Do you still think that way about me now?
10. What reminds you of me?
11. If you could give me anything what would it be?
12. How well do you know me?
13. When's the last time you saw me?
14. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
15. Are you going to put this on your blog and see what I say about you?

Stand Back If You Don't Want Any On You

waaaah.

waaaaaaaaaaaah.

WAH WAAAAAAAAAAAAH (boom boom boom boom boom boom)

Yes it's true I'm back from the blogging netherworld. I'm not sure right now what I'll have to say, but I can almost guarantee it won't be worth the wait.

Not much has been going on with me. As far as knitting accomplishments go, I think I can knit a mitten. That is to say I'm about halfway through a mitten for my quasi-almost-sister-in-law Kelly, but I think it will be too small so I'm going to start over. It just fits my hand and she's taller than me so I expect her hands are longer and might be bigger. Other than that I've started working on knit presents for the upcoming barrage of autumn/winter birthdays and Christmas. If you don't want a knit present from me this year, go find another friend. Just kidding. Not really though.

Hard to think about autumn and winter when it is a screeching 100 degrees out today. I have seen a mama cat and her two kittens periodically in my backyard - they come back because I put food out for them - and I hope they've found a cool spot to hang out today. I think they are roosting in the wooded area across the street so at least they'll have shade. I've called a local trap/spay/release organization, but I think I might have erased a message from them last week (mistaken for a telemarketing call). Not sure yet how I'll catch them - I don't want to catch mama without her kittens or vice versa.

My parents are both retired now - Dad just retired June 30. While I'm happy for them, one of them must get a job or they will end up killing each other. And/or me. Last weekend, Mom said she was going to buy me a couple of metal stands and some hanging plants to hang from them for my front door and back patio. Monday morning I'm working at home and on a conference call when the doorbell rings loudly and repeatedly. I open the door (thank God for mute) and tell my dad I'm on the phone. He gives me the thumbs up and proceeds to install the plant stands (they're the kind that are just a metal pole with a curve at the top and and a hook at the end to hang the plant off of)

The next day, I'm cooking lunch and I hear noises in the garage. I freak out thinking an animal's gotten in or something. No, just turns out to be my parents again - Mom's lining up my shoes by a storage rack and Dad's cleaning the porch cement where fertilizer from my potted flowers has left stains. Seriously, they must find something to occupy their time other than my house.

I about fell down when I saw Lee Iacocca in the Chrysler commercials (and George Costanza alongside him) I didn't even know that cat was still alive. According to Wikipedia he's 81. Looks pretty ok for 81, in my opinion. George Costanza's gotten old though (and I don't mean Jason Alexander's age in years)

I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - just stupendous. I want it on DVD right now. Johnny Depp is frigging brilliant as Willy Wonka. The little kid who plays Charlie is wonderful - he's practically luminescent. I nearly did a jig in the theatre when he found the Golden Ticket. I do have to rent Finding Neverland to see these two in action together again. But I kind of wish people would stop comparing this film (Charlie & the CC) with the original. In my opinion, both are great for different reasons, and I don't think either film's greatness takes away from the other.

Just when I'm convinced my baby girl cat, Molly, is dumber than the cardboard box I brought her home in. she proves me wrong. I have one of those little laser light toys that she loves more than she loves me (which seeing as how she sniffs and nibbles on my feet like they are Callebaut chocolates, I assume her love for me knows no bounds). Anyway, I haven't brought it out for a few weeks, and usually we play with it upstairs. Today I took it off the tv downstairs and the jingle of the keychain evoked a huge "MEEEW?" from Molly, who then proceeded to look around for the light of the Laser Angels which she knew would shortly arrive. Guinness lost interest in the thing a long time ago once he figured out that the source of the light was me and not Satan's minions whom he hoped to vanquish. Molly knows where the light comes from and DEMANDS the light thingie produce more Laser Angel goodness when it stops.

My quasi-nephew Alex had his first birthday party last week. He smeared the cake all over his 10-yr old Uncle Michael. He also got into the frozen hard lemonade that his mom put down for 3 seconds. Those crazy Irish. Steve (his dad) has also taught Alex that when Steve holds out his arm and opens/closes his hand, Alex brings him the remote. I wish I could teach my cats to do that.

I kind of want to get a copy of L.Ron Hubbard's Dianetics, but I really do not want to leave a trail of vitamins to my door for Scientologists to come and bug the crap out of me. Anyway, I don't want to cast aspersions on anyone's religion. If you want to believe that Earth was seeded by aliens who look like John Travolta in the worst dreads ever seen on a white man (and considering all dreads on white men suck, that's really scraping the bottom of the barrel), that's totally ok with me. Just don't try and force your religion on me, and we'll get along fine. Oh, and if you could shove Tom Cruise's head a little farther up his own ass, that'd be great. Because we can still hear him talk, and I don't like that.

Speaking of not shoving your religion on others, I'd really like to start my own religion called We'reAllHumanBeingsAndYou'reNotOneFarkingBitBetterThanAnyone
ElseSoShutYourProselytizingYapology. I can't imagine what the signs for the churches will cost me though.

I need a lotto revival. If you find one, please let me know. Until then it's back to the grind.

Cheers,
D

George Lucas IS a Completely Useless Writer

I just saw some show on VH1 called When Star Wars Ruled the Earth. They discussed the only good bit of dialogue I was willing to credit to George Lucas ("I love you." "I know." Enter carbonite!) Turns out the scene was originally written "I love you." "I love you too." and Harrison Ford was the one to suggest to Irvin Kershner that Han Solo wouldn't be such a limp cheesedick in the moment and thought they should change the line to "I know." And so is flushed the last bit of credit I was willing to give Lucas. Too bad Natalie Portman and Hayden Christiansen (or anyone with talent) couldn't have stood up to Lucas enough to save Episode II or make Episode III what it could have been.

Edited to add: They also showed Harrison Ford commenting that he didn't think Return of the Jedi "had a very successful ending, with a teddy bear picnic" Why couldn't he have been in charge of Episodes I-III???

Also, they just showed "Superfans" and their Star Wars-themed WEDDINGS. One bride actually had the nerve (or complete loss of touch with reality) to say "I didn't want to go for the typical goober Star Wars wedding" Excuse me?!?!?!? You have Yoda as your ring-bearer and Stormtroopers as your groomsmen. What other type of Star Wars wedding IS THERE???

Bring the Funk

I have been in this weird funk lately. I don't think I'm actively unhappy, it's just that I seem to be realizing/remembering a lot of things in my life that I wish were different. Like my job. And maybe my ass.

Deep Throat Revealed!!! And not ugly 70's porn either. This holds particular sentiment for me since my parents didn't know I had learned to read until I picked up the newspaper and started reading bits about Nixon. What kind of parents don't know when their kid is learning to read, you ask? The kind of parents who will tell their kid that Sesame Street doesn't come in on the big new color tv and the kid will have to go watch it on the crappy black and white tv upstairs. And you wonder how I turned out as supahstah cool as I have.

Last night, perhaps in a subconscious desire to punish myself for imbalances in my life, I decided to sit through the movie Hannibal which was on USA. Now, I read the book when it first came out, and it was seven different shades of Jaded Self-Important Atrocious Crap. If you for some reason need to punish yourself by reading this book and don't want to know what happens, stop here. But the rest of you know (or don't care) that Thomas Harris basically phoned in 400 pages of dead boredom, and finished it off by having Lecter and Clarice dine happily on Krendler's brain, and then go travelling the world over shagging like bunnies. The movie was actually better than the book in that respect, but it still sucked BALLS. I might have to watch Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon tonight to cleanse my palate and make the awful go away.

I know you didn't miss the latest Old Navy skirts commercial, set to the fly tones of Superfreak. I just know the poor man is screaming even while spinning in his grave, "I'M RICK JAMES, BITCH!"

I don't really like to insult the viewpoints and opinions of another culture, but come on, Germany has to see my point of view while watching the footage of the Berlin Wall coming down - "this is GREAT...wow what a momentous occasion...what the hell is KNIGHT RIDER doing at the Berlin Wall?!??!?!?!?"

I know I have more to tell but for right now I'm tapped. Thank every power that be that it's Friday.

Stonehenge of the Pith (or No Actor Should Be Judged in the Context of Bad George Lucas Dialogue)

Stone·henge ( P ) Pronunciation Key (stnhnj)
A group of standing stones on Salisbury Plain in southern England. Dating to c. 2000-1800 B.C., the megaliths are enclosed by a circular ditch and embankment that may date to c. 2800. The arrangement of the stones suggests that Stonehenge was used as a religious center and also as an astronomical observatory.

pith ( P ) Pronunciation Key (pth)
tr.v. pithed, pith·ing, piths
To sever or destroy the spinal cord of, usually by inserting a needle into the vertebral canal.

I went to see Revenge of the Sith last week with Johnny and Laura. If you don't want to know what happens, stop reading.

I mean it.

Ok but don't come crying to me saying I spoiled it for you.

Episode III was much much better than Episodes I or II. But, that's a little like saying influenza is much much better than Ebola. You really have to judge it on an entirely different scale, where "excellent" is not physically possible.

And this is because George Lucas is a bad writer. He cannot write love/emotional scenes to save his life. (Best Star Wars love scene - "I love you." "I know." Here comes the carbonite!!! Even this was probably a save from Larry Kasdan) This is truly a shame, because Revenge of the Sith could have been a much more interesting and compelling movie if you actually believed that Anakin and Padme really loved each other. As it stands, Anakin's surrender to the Dark Side comes off like the act of a whiny bitch who would rather look for a magic cure-all than truly fight for what he knows is the right thing to do. By the time Anakin gets his (and a little credit to good choreography and special effects, he does get it in spectacular fashion) my only thought was "Good, you little asshole, now get that Vader mask on so I don't have to see you crying anymore."

This was an enjoyable movie (especially since John, Laura or I - can't remember who - called a "KHAAAAAAAAAANNN!!!" moment - and whoever it was, was right) - enough so that it made me really mad that it could have been really excellent had it not been for the horrible script. The dialogue is so flat and uninteresting that I could not sympathize with any of the characters no matter how much I wanted to. When the most evocative character is R2D2, something is wrong with the writing. I read about people panning Hayden Christiansen, Natalie Portman, and Ewan MacGregor for their performances, but I maintain that it is impossible to be a good actor with George Lucas dialogue. When life hands you chicken, you can make chicken shit or chicken salad, but come on, what the hell are you supposed to do when George Lucas hands you chicken shit?

George Lucas is a bad writer, and he has made a bozillion dollars...by telling stories. It is one of the great inexplicable injustices of our time - right up there with GWB running the country and Tron not receiving any Academy Awards. But at least this particular injustice (I hope) has come to an end.

Cheers,
D

Oops (Or, They Say It Was Your Birthday)

While plowing through a backlog of unread emails in my hotmail account, I came across a birthday reminder for one Dr. Cowboy Joe Filkins. (who is second runner-up for being the Undisputed Sweet Baboo of My Life) It was Tuesday, May 10. Heh heh. Ooops.

So in honor of one of Dr. Filkins' favorite media, caustic haiku, I offer this in repentance and regret.

I am a loser
I forgot your birthday, Joe
You forgot mine too.

Huh. Amazing what your stream of consciousness speaking through haiku will remind you of. To the best of my memory, Cowboy Joe wrote me no poetry for my birthday. I don't feel bad anymore. And now you're third runner-up in the Sweet Baboo of My Life contest. You better be prepared to put up one HELL of a showing in the swimsuit competition to regain your standing.

Grandma Always Said "Don't Stick Your Hands in the Crazy"

I don't have any specific events to write about, so welcome to my stream of consciousness.

Old Navy shows no signs of repentance. A bathing suit commercial that ruins the Go-Go's "Our Lips Are Sealed"??? Wrong on SO MANY levels. Old Navy makes me fear for the future of our country, almost (but not quite) more than snot-nosed cell-phone-toting hooker teenagers.

I really wish concubines were legal. And that I would possibly have a shot in hell with Jon Stewart if they were. Or the snarky doc from Scrubs. Actually I don't know that the snarky doc is married. Maybe I should concentrate my efforts there. Seeing as how dudes kissing has the nation's fruit-of-the-looms in a twist, I probably shouldn't hold my breath hoping a petite Jewish entertainer can get him some hot harem action. And that I will be anywhere near the top of the waiting list.

Men should not ever wear ruffled shirts.

I sense Adam Sandler may be going the way of Eddie Murphy (on a much reduced scale of course) His latest movie appears to be about his organizing a prison football team (where he is an inmate) and the madcap high jinks that ensue. When I saw this commercial, had my expression gotten any flatter, my face would have gone concave.

Sometimes you just have to close your windows and yell at the top of your lungs (or the middle of your lungs if you live in a duplex) - "KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNN!!!!" Your cats will eventually come out from under the couches.

Renee Zellweger got married to some country music star after dating for 4 months. Thanks to celebrities, I never have to lose hope for my own marital aspirations. If it can happen for rich people, surely it can happen for me. That's what GWB tells me anyway.

Ok off to bed for me.
Toodles,
D

Behold the Awesome Power of the Mullet

I MUST have this.

My New Floor!

I'll blog more later, I promise, but just putting up pics of my slippery new laminate flooring that replaced the junko carpet my house came with...

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.

Kill Shill - Drowning in Celebrity Sellout

If it's a day ending in a "y", some celebrity somewhere is lending their moderately to largely famous face to promote a product.

Sometimes, this almost makes poetic sense, as in the case of the Burger King Tendercrisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch sandwich, brought to you in down-home cheerful tones by Hootie, of the frat rock band Hootie and the Blowfish. The fact that Hootie is wearing a Roy Rogers outfit typically only seen on men so white you can see through them is icing on the cake. Or is the icing on the cake the appearance of Brooke Burke, fresh from her duties on E! and modeling tiny swimsuits, with a Southern accent to boot? Evidently she is now "Wild On" Burger King.

Sometimes, it's completely annoying with a depressing undertone, like David Spade's series of Capital One commercials - "Cabo? Cab-NO, maybe!" Clearly, no one misses Chris Farley more than David Spade's career.

Sometimes, it's funny in a laughing-at-the-misfortunes-of-others way, like the commercials we don't even have to see of Ben Affleck making Japanese hearts swoon for Revlon. But hey, they have panties in vending machines over there so worship of Ben Affleck isn't much of a shocker, right? Wrong. Panties are funny, Ben Affleck is just sad.

And sometimes, it's downright ooky and scary, as in the case of Robert de Niro waxing poetic on the subject of American Express. Mr. de Niro, seriously. I don't care who you owe a favor to, or what gigs you aren't getting now, please let me remember you as an actor with mad skills, a membership that actually DOES have its privileges.

Catherine Zeta-Jones, Joan Cusack, SNOOP DOGG, Uma Thurman, Nicole Kidman, cell phones, sidekicks, soda pop, smelly perfume, overpriced purses, you name it, they're shillling for it. That annoying Sarah Jessica Parker Gap commercial is constantly stuck in my head. And thanks also to the Gap for ruining Earth, Wind and Fire by having that twerp from NSync sing the last bit of "Shining Star" on yes, another annoying Sarah Jessica Parker commercial.

I'm not completely against celebrity endorsement but it seems like there's no rest from it these days, and you know what? Seeing Tiger Woods run from the paparazzi is not going to make me buy a Buick any more than bouncy perky feminine hygiene commercials will make me buy panty liners designed for thongs. And thongs to go with those panty liners designed for thongs. All it does is make me more tired of the celebrities than I already am. And squicked out about panty liners and thongs.

In a tribute to the good old days of advertising when you'd buy a product that two unknown old men are shilling - "We thank you for your support."

Snark Attack

Yes I know it's been weeks since I last blogged, I was uber busy for weeks, and last week I just didn't feel like writing. Also, LK, demands for me to write make me write even less. This does not bode well for a writing career for me I guess. Clearly, fan mail will not be my motivation.

So what's been up with me and my brain?

I saw my little quasi-nephew Alex yesterday. In my opinion, he plateaued at perfect around Thanksgiving and of course can't get better than that. I dearly love the little guy...he can crawl now. Not good on-hands-and-knees crawling, more like watch-for-Charlies-in-the-trees crawling. He also tried to eat my feet (ew) and in a monumental testament of my love for him, I picked his nose when I couldn't get the gimongous booger out of it with a kleenex. Nothing says loving like sticking your finger in someone else's nose. Oh and a piece of happy news, his p's just got engaged yesterday. Kelly was so shocked she could only laugh. I am uber happy for all.

If you are talking to someone whose relative has been extremely sick, like on the verge of death sick, and you are not a doctor, do you consider it your place to dispense medical advice to this person? And THEN, do you consider it your duty as a so-called human being to ask the person how much more they should really try to save the relative's life, because of course it's any of your business? Me neither. But a certain Cornelia Unt I know seems to consider both things their duty in life. You can call Cornelia a dirty whore now - I do every day.

This whole Terri Schiavo thing really makes you think hard about making a living will. I personally would never want to be in her condition, but no one will ever know that unless I make one. And since she didn't have one, no one will ever know for sure what she wanted, least of all the melee of buttinskis who are making it their job to throw in their opinions and pass judgement when, clearly, they are not any of the parties involved. I'm not just talking about Congress, people. If you're not in this situation or have been in this situation yourself, just butt the hell out.

Yesterday, I was driving past the house that posted the Bush/Cheney 2004 billboard in their front lawn last autumn, and I thought about the fact that 1 in 4 voters in Illinois picked Alan Keyes in the Senate race. And I wondered how many more might have voted for him if he were white. Chew on that and get back to me.

Illinois has gotten to the Sweet Sixteen in the NCAA tournament, so I have allowed a faint spark of hope to light within my soul about this team. Still, I'm afraid to watch any games for fear I jinx them.

Who decided Bermuda shorts should come back into style? And who at Old Navy thought Bermuda shorts set to the soundtrack of "Fame" was a good idea? Whoever you are, don't identify yourself if you ever meet me. I will not be responsible for my actions then.

Martha Stewart missed lemons while she was in the big house. Only lemons. That woman certainly doesn't know how to combat the reports that she is dead inside.

My cat Molly just came running up to me as I was singing "The Rainbow Connection" and let out an indignant MEOW of protest when I finished. Evidently she is not fond of that song. But she chases her own tail and licks her own butt so what does she know. (Editor's Note: I wasn't just randomly singing "The Rainbow Connection", I Heart the 70's happened to be on VH1. But sometimes I do just randomly sing that song...I was asked to sing two lines from it solo in front of my fifth grade music class so I think sometimes I have horror flashbacks. Also, I like Kermit.)

TV commercials have ruined the Kill Bill soundtrack for me.

Is it wrong that I want to grow my hair out really long so I can walk with it hanging in my face and creep out people who were scared by The Ring? Well too bad, I'm doing it anyway.

That's all for now

Cheers,

D

Random in San Francisco

Well here I am in not-sunny-at-all San Francisco, at my company's annual sales kickoff conference. The hotel is nice. I miss my kitties though.

City of Angels is on tv now. I hate this piece of overly sentimental cinematic swill but it's this or Fox News.

Speaking of Fox News, if they went by what their true name should be, Fox Commentary Channel instead of Fox News Channel, their abbreviation would be FCC. Coincidence? Not these days.

Later on I'm going to go visit one of the Lush stores in San Francisco. I know all the stuff is the same as at the Chicago store, but it's fun to say I was there. Also, I been to San Francisco twice and seen most of what I wanted to see already.

What happened to the creators of Shrek to make them put out Father of the Pride and Shark Tales? Seriously. Were they in the shower the same time as Disney and dropped their soap?

Man is this going to be a long week.

Prince Charles is finally getting hitched to Camilla Horsey-Moles or whatever her name is - aside from all the pictures of them faintly reminding me of Dopey leading a horse, I say whatever makes them happy. And after the wedding hoorah, please put them away and only publish pictures of William, because, yum.

Well I'm hungry, so going to get dressed and go shopping and find food.

mooches smooches,
D

Strength

Last night I spoke to an old friend from high school and we hadn't talked in quite a while. (Oddly enough she may be reading this soon as I found out she keeps up with my life through my blog! I'm not naming her just in case someone reads this who knows her and she hasn't told them about this yet and might want to do so herself.) Anyway, a couple of years ago, her mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. They caught it very early and it seemed like they had gotten rid of it all and that she was just fine.

Well, they recently found out that it has spread to her liver, and it's incurable when this happens. Both my friend and her mom have AMAZINGLY positive attitudes about this. I don't know what I myself would do in this situation but I really have to wonder if I could find the strength that they have now. I don't want to get all Frank Capra here, but this woman really has had a wonderful life in my opinion, she's smart, she's funny, and she has a wonderful family - she and her husband have raised two smart, humorous, decent, responsible people. I'm really sad about this, but if she can have a positive attitude, then I can do the same for her sake. But please, if you have some positive vibes to send her way, I'm sure she would welcome the boost.

Thanks,
D

Adjusting

I was having dinner with some friends last night, among them one man, and the subject of adjusting came up. Specifically, male adjusting. More specifically, the act of men adjusting the twig and berries which women have always found inexplicable at best, ooky and "stupidboys" at worst.

All the women present were anxious to understand why the male is always adjusting. I had personally always thought that it was a form of checking to make sure Junior and the Wangettes are still there, and that the male is really not even aware that he's doing it, or if he is, he considers himself to be conducting the act in a really sneaky and surreptitious manner. 007 grabbing, if you will.

But it occurred to me that perhaps this is making it too simplistic. Maybe there is a "home position", a position that if Junior were to veer too far from, chemical and spiritual imbalances would take place in the man. Electrolytes out of whack, cardiac arrhythmia. Or at the very least, discomfort. This actually turned out to be the case (or the most acceptable explanation) for the poor man present for the discussion.

Why then, do men continue to do it while sitting? We understand adjusting before sitting down, and after standing up. Things are bound to move. But is there shifting while men are in a seated position? I think there must be, especially if they cross their legs. But if they are sitting still, why the adjusting then?

Then of course, there's the more obvious reasoning, that men adjust to let women (or men if they are gay) know that look, there is a wang here, and yes, the buffet is open for business. I further postulate that if a man is, how do we say, genitally challenged, he would also want to conduct status checks to make sure his works haven't disappeared completely.

So men, if you are reading, please post a comment and let us know which of the following explanations suits your acts of adjustment (you may of course pick more than one, but if you do, please note which reason is the most frequent/important)

1. You need to get it back into a comfortable "home position"
2. You want to make sure it is still there
3. You want everyone else to know it is still there
4. It itches, ok???
5. You have no idea what I'm talking about and you never do this. (note: selecting this option classifies you as a dirty liar)

Thanks in advance for your cooperation,

D

Random Bits, Personal Accountability, and People with Nothing Better to Do

FOOTBALL FANS START HERE:
Heh heh oops - I really thought the Eagles would lose today. After all - they've suffered so many injuries - from choking. However, I really am glad to see Philly win. I would be REALLY glad to see Terrell Owens come back for the Super Bowl, for the Eagles to beat the Patriots, and for Rush Limbaugh's fat pasty stupid face to get rubbed into his own moronic commentary on black quarterbacks.

NON-FOOTBALL FANS START HERE:

What the hell's with this little whiny bitch? What kind of honor student signs up for a class knowing there's homework over the summer, and then tries to SUE about it? And what kind of moronic father backs him up on it? Not too hard to figure out where this kid's sense of accountability comes from.

Hey did you all know Spongebob is all about the Spongewang? I'm going to send these folks my shopping lists and some of my knitting to do as they obviously have nothing constructive to do with their time. If you guys have to dog on a gay cartoon, you would much better serve the world by turning your attention to that annoying neckerchiefed douchebag Fred on Scooby-Doo.

Speaking of knitting, I was in the waiting room at Toyota getting my car looked at. I brought my knitting along with me - I had about 1 1/2 feet done on a scarf for my moms. Unfortunately, the View was on - that talk show with 4 biddies of varying ages including the excruciatingly annoying Star Jones. The first time I looked up, they were cooing and gushing about Laura Bush's inaugural clothes. I think I threw up in my mouth a little. Next thing I know, Ice Cube is tucked up on the couch in the midst of the 4 biddies talking about his latest sellout, Are We There Yet? Hey I'm ok with him doing family films, but does he have to do one that looks like it sucks Satan's buttcheese? At this point, they tell me my car is done, so in a massive hurry to escape VapidBiddypalooza, I shove my knitting in my bag. Arriving home, I realize I've dropped a ton of stitches and basically have to start over. Well, at least it looks much better the second time around.

Holy snow huh? But believe it or not - my snowdrift neighbors somehow got hold of some snow removal method and cleared their driveway! This morning they had driven across their neighbors' driveway and on top of their snow so were parked diagonally in their driveway. But by the time I got back home they had cleared it all up. And again, I'd like to thank God for snowblowers. I cleared yesterday and today - yesterday I basically spent blowing snow into the wind to have it blown back on me. I tried turning in every angle that wouldn't blow snow all over my next door neighbors' driveway, but the wind defeated me every direction I tried. Still, it was much easier this morning with the work I'd done yesterday. My snowblower isn't big enough to handle stomach-high drifts, so there was a lot of poke drifts with the shovel, clear the fallen snow with the blower. Tedious, but at least I can get out of the driveway, and at least we didn't get what New England got.

Yes my Christmas tree is still up. I think I'll take it down this weekend though. Valentine's Day trees just don't work for me. If I could find one though, I'd take Carl's suggestion and put up a Festivus pole.

I watched Citizen Kane for the first time this weekend. I can't believe how hot Orson Welles used to be. Rosebud, y'all.

I think I'll be getting this book, God's Politics:How the Right Got It Wrong and the Left Doesn't Get It. I saw the author on the Daily Show last week and it was quite refreshing to see a Christian stating publicly that it's doubtful Jesus wanted Bush to wage war on towelheads for bullshit reasons and piss on the environment.

Johnny Carson died today. This is so sad. I always thought Jay Leno was a poor, poor replacement for JC. We'll miss you, Johnny. Thanks for the laughs.

Cheers,
D

Oh the Weather Outside is Horrible

And my job is so deplorable. Just kidding. Thank you MDL for continuing to pay me.

Non-football people, now's the time to go get a drink or something. I'll let you know when to tune back in. I just got done watching the Colts vs. the Patriots - I'm shaking my head here but I'm not surprised. Indianapolis made the decision to spend large coin on offense and $3 on defense and it shows. You cannot win championships without defense. I don't care how great Peyton Manning and the Colts offense are, you can't put minimum wage teenagers on defense against Tom Brady and expect to win. Part of me secretly dreams that Manning will be fed up and want to come to the Bears since we actually have a defense. He needs to bring his offensive line with him though because ours is shit. Then Ron Turner will be irrelevant since Manning calls his own plays.

I was glad to see the Eagles beat the Vikings, because although I like Daunte Culpepper, I HATE Randy Moss. I wanted the Packers to beat them last week because Randy Moss is such a bitch. What makes it worse is that he's a talented player, he would be REVERED if he wasn't such a festering asshole. Atlanta spanked the Rams and sent them home sobbing to their mommies, to which I said "Duh." I call an Atlanta v. New England Super Bowl, and I think Atlanta will win.

Ok non-football fans, time to tune in again! And now for a word from my sponsor (well not really) but I am taking the chance to pimp Adagio Teas. Their teas kick ASS. Email me if you want a $5 gift certificate!

If you were wondering about my neighbors' snow drift - yep it's still there. Smaller, but still there.

Does anyone else think Bobby Flay is an arrogant whiny bitch? Me too.

I am a knitting fool now! So far I can only knit scarves - well, um, just one scarf. It's a six foot long lumpy blue portrait of the cellulite on the back of my thighs, but everyone who's seen it says it's really nice (even my mom!) but I think they're all being polite. (Even though the last time I saw Mom be polite was right around the Nixon administration). Anyway, I'm giving it to John, because LK says he needs a long scarf, and I dare say he'll find it rather amusing to have a blue representation of my thighs wrapped around his neck. Now I'm working on a scarf for Mom with multicolored yarn (burgundy/green) and after that - you guessed it, more scarves. John's best friend's wife Niki told me it's easy to knit hats, but I ran away screaming in fear. I like scarves. They is nice and flat. (In that respect, they are my anti-breasts.)

Had a pretty good weekend so far. Yesterday I went with bestbud Meeyun to see our favorite Indian people, Shilpa, Bug, his wife Rupal, and all their kiddies. Bug and Rupal have a new baby boy, Ronin, who looks just like his dad so we've christened him Mini-Bug.

(I sense a Note of Explanation is needed. Bug's real name is Suketu. pronounced soo-keh-too. Back in the day at Abbott, this guy we worked with could not pronounce it any other way than "cicada". As though Bug were one of a plague of Hindu locusts descended upon the U.S. to write our software and man our gas stations/Kwik-E-Marts. But I digress. We just started calling him "Bug" for short. It was a moment of sadness and shame in my life when his wife asked him a question and involuntarily called him "Bug")

Anyway back to Adventures with the Brownies. We were celebrating Bug's and Meeyun's birthdays. and ate lots of yummy Indian flavory food, and had lots to catch up on since we hadn't all gotten together in quite a while. Priyanna (Shilpa's daughter) and Sareena (Bug and Rupal's daughter) are both about 2.5 yrs old and totally sweet, albeit a bit shy. But hey, better shy than whiny brats like so many kids I see - Shilpa and Bug and Rupal are all doing great parenting jobs.

Today I had lunch with Mom and Dad, and hung out watching football and knitting with Dad. I really think Mom identifies more with me now that I've picked up knitting, because she used to knit a LOT. I bond with Dad over sports, with Mom over shopping and crafts.

Tomorrow I have MLK Day off (I'm not sure Dr. King's dream included people having a day off, but I suppose he doesn't mind either). I work with a lot of Europeans so am still going to sit in on a conf call in the morning with them, and then heading into the city to see LK and John, give John his lumpy scarf, go to Lush, and have pillow fights with LK. Or something.

Mooches smooches,

Donna

Edited to add: Don Cheadle just got robbed at the Golden Globes, losing to that annoying ass-clown Leonardo DiCaprio. Also Hotel Rwanda lost to the Aviator, so I smell an Oscar robbing coming up for Jamie Foxx, Ray, and Hotel Rwanda. (Yes I know Ray and Hotel Rwanda can't both win, but I'd rather one of them win than the Aviator. However, I sense Oscar voters will be overcome by the need to suck Scorsese's wang.)

Prayers, Hugs, Positive Thoughts Needed

I have a friend, Anne. About a year and a half ago, her mother passed away after a long bout with cancer, during which it seemed like she might have beaten it, but it came back and she succumbed in the end. I met her father at the wake and he looked so lost and sad. Well, last week he fell off a ladder. I didn't get all the details, but he was bleeding from his ear, so I think they found bleeding inside his skull. He's in Intensive Care now, and on top of that he's got pneumonia.

Whatever you have, prayers, good thoughts, anything, please send them over to Annie and her dad, they really need them now.

Thanks.
Donna

Random Observations and Occurrences

First off, many thanks to Carl the Fantabulous for his engaging wit de razeur (French term that I just now completely made up) response to my last blog entry.

p.s. Carl - depending on the rooster in question, the Cock is EVERYTHING to giggle about.

Ok. Let's get started.

Now, far be it from me to be a nosybiddy neighbor - heck I don't even know any of their names. But in the recent spouts of snow that got spooged onto the Chicago area, I notice that the people across the street from me seem to be, well, lazy. And that's saying a LOT from a chick who won't take down her Christmas tree.

Some background - I live on a street of duplexes, which means that I am connected to one other house, we share a double-width driveway, and when it comes to snow, I clean my half, they clean their half. The people across the street from me - one half is clean, and the other half has that massive snow drift left at the curb by the street plow. FROM LAST WEEK. I have seen their truck in the driveway since last week (somehow squished between the garage and the massive snow drift) so it's not like they blew town.

Today, I was on my way out - saw the guy with his truck parked in his neighbor's half of the driveway, shoveling snow since we got some more last night. I come back home - the drift is STILL there but now he's somehow again parked his truck between the garage and the drift. Hey if it works for him it's fine with me. But something tells me not to count on them in any neighborhood cooperative efforts (not like we have any, but still)
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In the answer to my daily prayers since Week 5 of the NFL season, the Bears have fired their offensive coordinator, Terry Shea. I hear people saying how the Bears quarterbacks suck, which is true, but they were on their sixth sucky offensive lineup at the end of the season. If the wind is blowing above 2 mph, the offensive linemen will fall down. Peyton Manning, good as he is, would have gotten KILLED DEAD with this offensive line, because it's basically like asking paper dolls to protect you.

Now don't get me wrong, the quarterbacks have sucked. When Craig Krenzel is six inches from FALLING out of bounds, but takes a moment to ponder, "What should I do before falling out of bounds? OH. I know. I'll throw the ball to the other team first." Sucky quarterback.

I have seen 5 plays from the Bears offense all season. I will be extremely generous and include
1) the successful pass and
2) the successful rush (each of which I have seen all of 4 times this season)
3) Ball snapped, offensive line falls down, quarterback is mowed down flat. (feel free to insert fumble here if in the mood)
4) Ball snapped, quarterback runs far enough away from the offensive line to give himself time to throw an interception
5) Ball snapped, offensive line thinks enough happy thoughts to stay upright long enough for quarterback to throw the ball, only to find David Terrell has run the play in the wrong direction. Being the sucky quarterback that he is, he cannot adjust and throws the ball at empty field.

I'm going to wait to pass judgment on Ron Turner who's taking over, but if his last three seasons coaching Illinois is any indication, I'm not too hopeful. Maybe there's nowhere to go but up. Or maybe we can lose all our games next season.
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I was flipping channels the other night and came upon the People's Choice Awards. I actually groaned when Fahrenheit 9/11 won for Best Picture of the Year. Sure, I liked the movie and thought it had an important message - which is completely marginalized by Michael Moore's grandstanding and competition against 2 CARTOONS and Doc Ock. As my good friend LK says, blurring (or in this case detonating) the line between documentary and entertainment serves no justice to the message of this film and is indeed insulting to our troops in Iraq. Sit down before you hurt yourself and all the rest of us, Mr. Moore.
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Why is Laura Bush's choice of gown for the Inaugural Ball a top headline alongside, well, anything serious? And why are the ass-clowns in the Bush administration making the city of Washington D.C. divert $12 million in homeland security funds to pay for the costs of the inauguration? Oh I know why. Because 59 million of us re-elected a complete douchebag.
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Excuse me, I meant 59 million of us ELECTED a complete douchebag, since the first election didn't count - literally.
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I still haven't bought Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, and I'm wondering why. Maybe I will make it my Martin Luther King day present to myself.
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Don't cats ever get tired of licking themselves?
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As I typed that, my older cat Guinness looked up at me with complete scorn writ large upon his face, and then went back to licking. Meowlingual translation - "Don't be gettin up in my shit, beeyotch."
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And, that's all I got for today. Apologies to all my fans (and that would be ALL my fans) who don't watch football and completely tuned out in the middle)

Mooches smooches,
D

Post-Holiday Random Thoughts

Happy New Year, comrades! Let's get random, shall we?

Evidence of the influence of pop culture in my life: when watching a movie that contained the phrase "nooks and crannies", the first thing I thought of was Thomas' English Muffins.

My Christmas tree is still up. I worked hard this year, scratching the crap out of my arms searching for the broken bulb that made a foot-tall chunk near the top of the tree go on strike. That fucker's staying up. I might just take off all but the red and white ornaments and call it a Valentine's tree.

Thank God for electric start snowblowers.

The tsunami and its aftermath are so horrifying. It's heartening to see people across the world band together and send help to these poor people. Then I see Hotel Rwanda and am reminded that people do terrible things to other people for no real reason, and other people won't step in to do anything unless there's something in it for them. There's no political repercussions from helping the victims of a natural disaster. (thank God, otherwise the tsunami victims would probably be shit out of luck as well)

I see VH1, in an effort to squeeze the last weary drop from the ratings boon started by "I Love the 80's", are putting out "I Love the 90's - Part Deux." Ok seriously, isn't it a little soon to be reminiscing about the 90's - again? (Ok ok ok, the footage of Bush the Elder puking on the Prime Minister of Japan always gets me giggling, but come on. This is the decade of "Who Let the Dogs Out", Lorena Bobbitt taking the "money" and running, the Macarena, and Al Gore doing the Macarena - badly.) What's next - "I Heart the 00's - We're Just Makin' Shit Up Now and Look Who's Still Watching"?

February 9, 2005 marks the Chinese New Year and the Year of the Rooster. Which yes, can also be thought of as the Year of the Cock. I'll let you giggle over that one a bit.

Status Check on Shitkicking-Grinning, Moronic, Asswipe Douchebag in the White House - yep! Still there! Which reminds me, I need to go stock up on hard liquor.

Someday I want to interview a technician who gives Brazilian bikini waxes and ask what their very worst client experience was. I'm envisioning something along the lines of flatulence triggered by flinching when the naughtybits hair is forcibly ripped out.

I just confirmed through the magic of Tivo that Resident Evil: Apocalypse contains a scene of Milla Jovovich leaping off a building wearing what can best be described as a white assless-chaps vinyl leotard. Surprisingly, this still is not enough to make me want to see this movie.

Is there anyone keeping track of how many dirty old men have bought "Girls Gone Wild" - and seen their own daughters on it?

Today I was in the kitchen while my baby kitty Molly was poking around my feet. I moved my foot suddenly and she jumped so high that in her arc of descent her butt was pointed straight at the ceiling. I probably took a whole kitty-year or two off her life but man, sometimes I just can't help laughing at the misfortune of others.

Ok that's it for now. Stay tuned for more. Someday. Or not. Who knows?

D

The Lifestyle to Which I Need to Become Accustomed

Man oh man, vacation rocks. I haven't gone out of town, haven't done anything uber special, but lately I am MADLY IN LOVE with SLEEP. Sleeping in is better than anything.

Christmas was pretty lowkey except my stinking best friends (who are for all intents and purposes my siblings) went and broke the Christmas gift draw rules.

Let me go back a ways. My best friends' brother and his girlfriend had a baby in July. Granted, Alex was an oopsie baby, but Steve and Kelly are turning out to be great parents, and we all love the little guy more than anything. But of course they're not independently wealthy, and I figured a name draw for Christmas gifts would be a good idea as I didn't want them to worry about having to buy presents for us all, especially since Kelly has a huge family of her own. So I drew Deb's husband, and figured all was right with the world.

The day after Christmas comes around, and we all get together to celebrate. I have Eric's present, plus stocking stuffer presents for everyone else - and everyone else has a regular present for me. DOH! They all said I've done so much for the family and for the baby that they couldn't not get me presents. Well, that's sweet but I wish they'd let me in on it - I love giving presents more than I love getting them and I felt really awkward and kind of robbed. I'm not trying to be ungrateful, but Christmas would have been perfect for me if I could have gotten presents for everyone. On the super plus side - Eric LOVED his Cardinals jersey - especially since Deb's plans to get him a laptop were foiled and she ended up getting him....foot spray. No I'm not making that up. I have a great imagination but even I couldn't come up with that.

Today I ordered a new pair of coke bottle glasses with heavily nerdo frames - $406. Thank you, Flex Account. Thank you. The kindly Eastern European technician asked if I'd like the featherweight lenses. YES please. Anti-glare coating? YES please. Rolled and polished edges? Honey, yes to anything you can do to diminish the impression that I'm wearing two glass bathroom wall blocks on my face. Sigh. Someday the FDA will approve a laser for my horrendo eyes. Until then, thank God for contacts, or I would have to strap these magnifying glasses to my face 24/7.

Tomorrow I'm going on the search for a book to teach me how to knit and some knitting needles. I've had four bundles of burgundy and green yarn sitting in my closet for years now, I am going to learn me how to knit! Maybe I can make Mom something for her birthday in February. Ok maybe for Mother's Day. Or Memorial Day. People don't give enough Memorial Day presents.

I'd stick around and blog for longer, but this is requiring way too much concentration during my vaca. I wish I could make a New Year's resolution to become independently wealthy before the end of my vacation.

Insane for the Holidays

The holidays are a crazy time of year, but for me they are crazy in a mostly nice way - even nicer this year thanks to online Christmas shopping. Making time to get together with friends is one of the nicest parts of the season.

This weekend I saw my friends Brenda and Mark and Barbi for dim sum on Saturday. There's few things I've experienced better than dim sum - if I could alternate sushi and dim sum for the rest of my meals on this big marble I'd be happy forever. And I would need to be equipped with one of those special sirens for when I back up because I'd be fat as a house. Brenda and Mark gave me a bag of presents the size of my ass, which is HUGE. Turned out to be an appetizer grill (complete with Sterno! I smell madcap high jinks!) and this cool toy for my kitties which through the miracle of technology and 3 "AA" batteries, dangles and drags around a fuzzy mouse for their amusement. So far they are both completely fascinated with it. Barb had previously trounced us all right after Thanksgiving by giving us champagne glasses that she and her husband MADE and champagne to go with. I gave them bags full o Lush Fresh Handmade cosmetic goodies and hope they love them.

Sunday I saw my friends Cheryl and Scott, who have the cutest Great Dane (Kona) and who are rockstar cooks. They dished up salad, bruschetta, salmon wrapped in phyllo, asparagus, and warm potato salad. If we weren't already stuffed after that, Cheryl then brought out this divine lime mousse cheesecake. As I hate cheesecake (it feels like school paste on my tongue) I was a little hesitant but upon tasting this - oh my gentle Jesus. Light, creamy, rich - essentially love, sunlight, and the salvation of mankind in cheesecake form. Cheryl noted the next day that she had forgotten to send some home with us, to which I retorted:

"Uh, please, if that’d been me who made that cheesecake, after my first bite I’d have grabbed the plates back from all of you and shoved you out the door. You’d have found me in a few months, 100 pounds heavier and with a Gollum-like complexion, huddled in the corner petting some graham-cracker crumbs and calling them “my precious”." No joke, that's how good this thing was.

We also test-drove their home theater setup in the basement which Scott finished with his own two hands. Granted, we did it by watching The Matrix Revolutions, which, if I had never seen the first two installments of the Matrix franchise, I would have titled "A Very Special Episode of Transformers." Still, good effects, and Scott's home theater setup makes any movie better. (Well, in most cases - nothing would make Jeepers Creepers better other than jumping into a time machine and going back to that idyllic era where you had never wasted 2 hours of your life on this movie) Those dirty monkeys also gave us lovely gift baskets (I got champagne with mimosa mix and really cool champagne glasses - good thing too as I suddenly have a lot of champagne on my hands) I only had a tiny bag o Lush for them but am already shopping for their Martin Luther King day present.

Well, tomorrow I get to see John and LK, their friends Sean and Niki, and my favorite gay men in the whole world, Jasen and Michael. (Actually, they're two of my favorite people, period, gay men or no) So during this crazy holiday season, try to stop and make time for friends, because friends make the holidays (and life in general) much better.

Peace,
Donna

Random Thoughts into the Void - Answered

In an unprecedented blogging moment (for myself anyway) I am answering a comment to my blog with a new blog entry. Carl the Great, (my onetime PS2 DOA2 nemesis) has taken the time to answer the questions I had cast into the void, so I feel it is only fair to continue the dialogue.

cillic the fantabulous is here to answer ALL of your questions.
Q. Who at the Febreze company is getting fired for Scentstories?
A. The one that smells like feet.
D's Answer. Shouldn't the one that smells like feet be fired anyway on general principle? You're hardly good PR for the company when you smell like feet. No, I'm pretty sure some douche that smells like Love's Baby Soft has gotten discharged over this one. (and no, not an ACTUAL douche that smells of Love's Baby Soft. Excuse me while I go do the 3-d technicolor yawn and welcome back my breakfast)

Q. Name the movie where Will Smith says, "Oh HEEELLLLL no!"
A. Will Smith does movies?
D's Answer. I so cannot wait till you and Heather come back up here so you can be the ones that John and LK drag to I, Robot 2: Revenge of the JVC Stereo

Q. Who let Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas into the recording studio? Actually, who let them into the public eye, period?
A. The same people who brought you Cop Rock!
D's Answer. I was so looking forward to Cop Rock, having loved Schoolhouse Rock so much. Dirty dirty lying dirtbags.

Q. Why did Care Bears come back? Who were the douches that liked these the first time around? Whatever happened to plain brown teddy bears?
A. The Real Question is, where is Teddy Ruxpin when you need him?
D's Answer. Teddy Ruxpin is scary like spiders and clowns and the characters' eyes in The Polar Express. But yes, Teddy Ruxpin could pummel Care Bears seven ways to Sunday.

Q. The DiSaronno commercial where the chick sucks on the ice cube and makes the barkeep spooge his panties? Do guys think she's hot?
A. Speaking as a guy and an ex-barkeep of sorts, DiSaronno sucks. Any woman who gets off on the stuff is obviously a mono-sylabic alient beast-hound from Neptune in disguise looking for prey. Not a bad disguise, eh?
D's Answer. Thank you, Carl. However, I'm pretty sure you're one of the men who, besides being already taken and therefore useless to us single women, is in the minority about wanting women who can actually talk. I have driven through Tennessee, I know backtalking womens is frowned upon.

Q. In Sixteen Candles, when Samantha and Jake finally get to smooch, leaning over the cake with a bazillion candles on it, didn't that burn the shit out of their chins? And how many teen couples tried that after that movie and burned the shit out of their chins?
A. If you EVER dis Sixteen Candles again I'll use my John Cryer voodoo doll to put the smack down on your near-cheddar-headed ass!
D's Answer. Whoa Nellie. No one dissed Sixteen Candles. Sixteen Candles is the movie that taught me that if I have to be the lone Asian in school, funny is the way to go. Perhaps not YankeeMyWankee funny, but the take-home lesson is that everyone loves a funny Asian. Something about our teeny eyes makes jokes that much better.

Q. Did Van Halen seriously think Gary Cherone was going to work out for them? Come on. I'll take a stoned and incoherent David Lee Roth every day over the pansy who sang More than Words.
A. Hey, David Lee Roth is now an EMT. Pretty sad that the only time he can make out with a woman is because she's unconscious from Smoke Inhalation (kinda like Larry Hagman's character in Mother, Juggs and Speed. What? You've never seen Mother, Juggs and Speed? Go get it. NOW! Bill Cosby, Raquelle Welch, Harvey Kietel, and Dick motherfucking Butkis! Pure '70s gold!
D's Answer. *writing furiously, adding Mother, Juggs, and Speed to Christmas list.* Is it as good as Foxxy Brown?

Q. How horrible was it that Viktor Yushchenko got poisoned?
A. Not nearly as horrible as Bush getting re-elected.
D's Answer. I'm actually looking forward to this administration *setting tivo to C-SPAN 24/7, waiting for the moment Donald Rumsfeld's face pops off on camera, revealing him to be the ugliest FemBot ever manufactured*

BTW - Donna! I did it all for you! [Jumps off of cubicle railing...]
D's Answer. Thank you Carl, thank you. But I ask that you save yourself for now, until the next time you come up north and I put the DOA2 muffocation hurt on your weeping schoolgirl arse.

Q. Stirrup pants. Why did we do that to ourselves?Girls in low-rider pants with plumbers' butt crack. Why are they doing that to us?
A. I still miss my parachute pants. And regarding the low-riders... why the hell don't chicks with hips wear those. That would be nice. I only see scrawny little bitches with the hips of 13-year-old boys wearing those things. That's my only complaint...cillic
D's Answer. Because society has taught us that chicks with hips are fatties that must hide from the light of day, lest we throw everyone off with the gravitational pull we each exert as walking behemoths circling the globe. (kind of like Saturn's moons but with boobies)

In conclusion, thank you Carl for inspiring this blog entry. Perhaps one day we (that includes John and LK) as the Blog Super Monster Heroes. (I call dibs on Mothra now!)

Casting Random Thoughts into the Void

I frequently don't blog because quite often, I don't have enough to say to make a substantial blog entry. But I find myself having many "I wonder...", "WTF?...." and "You have got to be kidding me..." moments every day. So now I'm just going to throw a few of them out there:

Who at the Febreze company is getting fired for Scentstories? This is seriously the dumbest thing I've seen since Hidden Valley Ranch tried to cater to children with Nacho Cheese Ranch dressing. (My dad works there so I know someone got fired for that train wreck.) What's worse is I like Febreze, it's a great idea, so these guys should have known better. I have books and tv and friends to tell me stories, I don't need smells for that. Smells are for telling me very specific, succinct messages like:
"Toxic waste is nearby." or
"Dinner is ready" or
"John recently ate apple pancakes. Or food."

Name the movie where Will Smith says, "Oh HEEELLLLL no!"

Who let Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas into the recording studio? Actually, who let them into the public eye, period?

Why did Care Bears come back? Who were the douches that liked these the first time around? I've seen these in the store lately, and now there are Care Bear Cousins, which is basically the Care Bear franchise expanding to include other animal species that are in no way related to bears, like elephants and velociraptors or some such nonsense. Whatever happened to plain brown teddy bears?

The DiSaronno commercial where the chick sucks on the ice cube and makes the barkeep spooge his panties? Do guys think she's hot? She looks nearly plastic and her forehead's three foot tall. Or does that bartender just do the old EagleOne FoxTwo thing really easily?

In Sixteen Candles, when Samantha and Jake finally get to smooch, leaning over the cake with a bazillion candles on it, didn't that burn the shit out of their chins? And how many teen couples tried that after that movie and burned the shit out of their chins?

I'm Lemon-Fresh Smurf

Did Van Halen seriously think Gary Cherone was going to work out for them? Come on. I'll take a stoned and incoherent David Lee Roth every day over the pansy who sang More than Words.

How horrible was it that Viktor Yushchenko got poisoned? I think the Republicans in power in this country are cheating assholes, but at least no one poisoned John Kerry. All that cragginess on his face is just the product of good somber living. (or maybe too much windsurfing) Although I do think if Karl Rove could figure out a way to not get caught, he'd poison a LOT of people.

Duran Duran - please let me just remember you the way you were. Just because leg warmers came back doesn't mean you have to. (It also means that leg warmers did not need to come back either. Forenza, you stay right there with 1987 where you belong.)

There is nothing better than snuggly sleeping critters. (Unless the critters are spiders or clowns, that's just not cool.)

The fact that Eddie Murphy did Beverly Hills Cop and Daddy Day Care really proves his range. I cannot think of a single other good thing to say about that fact. He's like the Beatles in reverse.

Do cats think anything is funny? How can I love mine so much when they show no evidence of having a sense of humor? If I met a man who was adorably warm and fuzzy but had no sense of humor, would I be able to love him? Something tells me no. The kitties don't talk back when I sing the A-Team theme song to them, but I have a feeling the guy would. I need my freedom to sing the A-Team when necessary.

Even more than clowns, the nanny from The Omen will always scare the shit out of me. That woman's creepy with a capital oooog.

Stirrup pants. Why did we do that to ourselves?
Girls in low-rider pants with plumbers' butt crack. Why are they doing that to us?

Well that's it for now, tune back in soon for the Holiday Edition of Random Thoughts into the Void.

Cheers,
Donna