White Trasherati

Too much to tweet

2009-01-09T11:07:00.000-08:00

What am I doing? I'm trying to work. From home. A few days a week this is what I try to do.

Today featured:
- construction noise directly below me as they build out a space for my Mom.
- my Mom calling my name nonstop, as she has a different nursing aide here today than she is used to. Plus my Mom calls my name nonstop anyway.
- this dialogue currently emanating from the bathroom behind me, as the aide helps my Mom to shower....

"It's too cold."
"Better?"
"It's too hot!"
"Better?"
"It's too cold again."
"Now?"
"Now it's too hot."

Multiply that by holy-shit-how-long-can-this-go-on and you have it.

- me bracing myself for Mom to later bitch about how she didn't like this aide.

Now they sound like a grumpy Laurel and Hardy trying to wash her hair.

"You people..."

2008-10-15T08:13:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who is both brilliant and funny, and who is seemingly running the Obama campaign in northern Virginia singlehandedly. She and her husband are deeply invested in this election, and she does an admirable job of promoting debate and thought rather than divisiveness and rage.
She shared a story with me yesterday that I loved: while at a local chain grocery store, sporting her "Obama" button, the male cashier said, "I would have thought you Democrat ladies would be behind Palin."

Her response, without missing a beat: "Why? Because we're gynecologically similar?"

He then proceeded to make comments along the lines of "You liberals don't want any war, ever, anywhere." (Now bear in mind this guy is at work, saying these things to a customer.) She asked if he had, in fact, canvassed all liberals to come to this learned conclusion.

I think she lost him at "learned".

Truth in humor

2008-09-23T11:41:00.000-07:00

Just got this at work. Usually don't recycle jokes but this was far more polite than my own post would be on this topic. The only difference between this joke and something I would write? The punchline following the punchline would be, "And someone needs to kick a fencepost up her ass to knock her out of the race."

While suturing a cut on the hand of a 75-year old Texas rancher whose hand was caught in a gate while working cattle, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man. Eventually the topic got around to Sarah Palin and her bid to be a heartbeat away from being President .

The old rancher said, 'Well, ya know, Palin is a post turtle.'

Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him what a post turtle was.

The old rancher said, 'When you're driving down a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a post turtle.'

The old rancher saw a puzzled look on the doctor's face, so he continued to explain. 'You know she didn't get up there by herself, she doesn't belong up there, she doesn't know what to do while she is up there, and you just wonder what kind of dumb ass put her up there to begin with.'

Knows what she likes. And what she doesn't.

2008-09-02T09:14:00.000-07:00

Jagosaurus accompanied me on the ride up to Occupied Virginia this morning. She also took control of the MP3 player, and it's functioning "skip" button. So it was 5-1/2 hours of driving and precious few songs heard in their entirety. As a matter of fact, after a few notes, it was pretty much one of these variations:

"No."
"Oh, hell, no."
"Fuck no." (This was usually directed at Barry Manilow.)
"I can't listen to that."
"No way in hell can I tolerate that."
"Oh, god, no." (This was reserved for any songs that had the audacity to be sung by a country music ARTIST.)

And, very rarely, "I love this song!"

She lasted an entire two hours before casually asking, "Hey, is there a way to adjust the treble and bass in this car?"

Jagosaurus, revealed!

2008-08-19T14:18:00.000-07:00

more cat pictures

Note the books in the background.

This is her in cat form.

"But Pa! I love that dog!"

2008-08-12T14:01:00.000-07:00

From the Wikipedia entry for Melissa Gilbert* (Laura? Little House On The Prairie? C'mon, where were you in 1975?)

"In 2006, Gilbert appeared as Shari Noble, a patient looking to reconstruct her nipples after committing zoophilia with her dog in a season 4 episode of Nip/Tuck. Beginning in August 2008, Gilbert will appear in a musical version of Little House on the Prairie at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis. She will play the character Ma.^[2]

For her contribution to the television industry, Gilbert has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 6429 Hollywood Blvd."

Yeah, the bold is mine. Because wtf? I can't decide if taking that role makes her 87 different kinds of awesome or Tori Spelling.

Thanks to Maven for nudging me to the entry in wikipedia.

*I've been told by a number of people that she is the celebrity I most resemble. Even from people who haven't seen my nipples.

Rowr.

2008-08-07T10:26:00.000-07:00

The scene: Parking lot of Baja Fresh. Trasherati and Jag are slowing to wait for two pedestrians to amble past so they can pull into a parking space. The pedestrians appear to be two young, pretty blonde things - strappy heels and the prancing gait that accompanies them, big sunglasses, small purses awkwardly swaying in the crook of their arms...as they get closer, though, we realize that these women are, in fact, closer in age to Trasherati.

Trasherati (muttering): Come on ladies, get your Botoxed selves on past.

Jag: I thought cougars moved faster than that.

It's Jag's fault.

2008-06-26T15:13:00.000-07:00

Scene: Starbucks (Trasherati has just been informed that one of her favorite baristas is transferring out of the area to attend USC.)

Players: Trasherati and Jagosaurus

Trasherati: She's transferring to USC. I should have asked her if it's to attend film school.

Jag: 'Cause that's the only reason you'd go to USC.

Trasherati: Or I could have asked "For film school, or because you're Asian?"

Jag: (shocked silence)

Trasherati: "Or did you not know that?"

Cool thing.

2008-04-02T08:08:00.000-07:00

I (tried) to post a link to Modest Needs, over there to the the right.
I commented to someone that I've always wanted to start a sort of microlending organization like this; there were numerous times in my life when a gift of small amounts of money would have drastically impacted decisions I made. Or at least made me feel as if I had room to make choices. And that's important for a lot of women, I think, to feel like you can take a breath and choose things that position you to be in a better place down the road.

Anyway, I think it's a bold idea to help people out, just a little bit, people who aren't in enough "need" to qualify for other aid, and who might not want to wrestle with the system or relatives or lenders to just pay a damn light bill THIS ONE TIME.
And I'm thrilled to see that although I was too lazy to make my idea a reality, someone else wasn't. And there it is, over there on the right, in case you're remembering when someone helped you, or a gift was given, no strings attached, that opened up a tight space for you and made you grateful.

Happy Pagan Fertility Rite Day!

2008-03-18T08:16:00.002-07:00

see more crazy cat pics

It has a certain ring, yes?

2008-03-06T12:13:00.000-08:00

The past month has held huge vet bills; the animals are well now, but the kitchen counter has been littered with all manner of pills and potions for the cats and dogs. And the jar of peanut butter. Because even though Colt has a freakishly large tongue, he can somehow finesse a shell of mushed up cheese completely off a pill, spit out the pill, and swallow every scrap of the cheese. But peanut butter? It sticks, man.

Anyway, one of the meds required to, ahem, help a cat, if you know what I mean, and I think you do, is called Cat Lax.

I glanced at the tube the other day and thought, "They should just call it Kitty Shitty."

Ranting/Venting between curmudgeons. Commie, racist curmudgeons.

2008-02-20T14:37:00.000-08:00

OFFENSIVENESS ALERT: THIS TRANSCRIPTED (LIGHTLY EDITED) EMAIL EXCHANGE CONTAINS PERSONAL OPINIONS WHICH MIGHT OFFEND AND IF THEY DO OH WELL STOP READING OR FEEL FREE TO COMMENT BUT PLEASE DON'T BE RUDE ABOUT IT.

JAG: OH MY GOD I am so sick of the Barack Obama bandwagon. I'm sorry. He might be wonderful but I cannot tell for all the smoke and mirrors and race-card playing (by his supporters). Is he made of spun sugar and Christmas? WTF?
Apparently he will get the nomination because the press has decided it. And god help you if you don't go to pieces over how wonderful he is because you are clearly a racist,commie, conservative, baby-eating, warmongering hater. God help you if you point out that no one is perfect and that maybe, perhaps, he is rather vague and light-weight thus far.
And I fucking hate that video that is making the rounds.(Prompted by the local news taking the time to inform viewers that Obama is in some location right now talking about the need for change. Is that news?)

WT: A-fucking-men.
What I hate is that everyone wants to vote for him because he's black. That's as bad as NOT voting for him because he's black. All this "change" stuff is such lightweight rhetoric that I can't believe it's "swept" the country and "impassioned" the citizens.

JAG: And a-fucking-men to what you said about why people are voting for him. It's the old "I have black friends!" thing. The race-baiting going on is so deeply offensive. And he is letting it happen, probably encouraging it. I mean, why not? It's working. And the squawking about the Clintons stealing the election and the super delegates, etc. is so stupid. I'll vote for him if he is the democratic nominee for president but I proudly voted for Hillary Clinton in the VA primary and would love to see her in office. Having said that, I don't worship her. Who worships a goddamn politician? Oh. Yeah. Stupid people.

Anatomy Lesson

2008-02-19T11:18:00.000-08:00

J1 (my nine year old): Mommy, Daddy taught me a new word.
Me: What is it?
J1: VAGINA.
Me (head snapping to the PAOIKOTS): And why did you teach him that word?
PAOIKOTS: Because when [great-grandmother of J1s best friend] asked him how he liked the Hannah Montana poster they gave him, he told her that he needed to move it down on his bedroom wall. It was up too high.
Me: And that translates to "vagina" how?
PAOIKOTS: He said when he kissed it goodbye this morning, he had to kiss her on her penis.
Me:
Me:
Me: Oh.
J1: Hannah Montana's hot, Mommy! Her vagina's hot!

Kid obviously has her confused with Paris Hilton.

Happy Hallmark - I mean, Heart Day.

2008-02-14T11:23:00.000-08:00

moar humorous pics

It is very telling that I find this hysterically funny. It tells you that I am twelve.

Dudes!

2008-01-14T17:21:00.001-08:00

What is up, my homies? I'm alive and well, survived the holidays and a hella lot of stress, but wanted to check in so that my two frustrated readers don't write me off altogether. Lately:

- the Trasherati household has increased twofold. My decrepit mother (and I mean that in the most affectionate way possible) has been near death, recovered, and been released to our care. She's moved in and will live with us until (as it was so graciously explained to the kids and they gleefully explain to their friends) she dies. So now we number three adults, one of whom uses a walker, two little boys, two geriatric cats, and FOUR DOGS. Of course, my mom's chihuahua doesn't really count as she's not a real dog. She's sweet, just not a dog of substance like the Magnificent Rudy and the mammoth Colt. I need to post pictures of the dogs. Jag?
P.S. My mom is doing much better, thank you for asking.

- I broke the front of my Creative Zen MP3 player and now the Forward, Backward, and scrolling functions won't work, so I have to listen to whatever pops up on random play. Apparently I have an assload of Barry Manilow loaded on this thing. Shut up.

- I'm still commuting to Occupied Virginia to work three days a week. But I'm not teaching this semester. So I'm committed to pulling together some more material and hitting the comedy clubs. In 2008 I'd like to be invited to host an open mike night, that's my lofty goal. Screw world peace, I want stage time to make folks laugh. You have to work with the talents you're given, right? Ya'll go publish a novel or something now - I can do very little that's useful, except help create laughter, so that's what I'm going to polish a little bit this year, if you don't mind. 'Cause my plate is pretty full (see first item); I need this to fill me up.

- My sister turned me on to the best meal ever: split a whole wheat pita round, grate some cheddar cheese on it (she uses reduced fat - whatever, JOYCE), broil it until the cheese melts. Then, add sliced avocado and a good salsa. DAMN. Time for another sandwich party.

- I did recover from the very embarrassing, frightening, EPISPLODE posted about previously. An "epislode" is what the Poaikots and I labeled a public episode of explosive diarrhea a number of years ago - apt, don't you think? Tasteful wordsmith, that's me.

So there's a very condensed update - what's up with you?

Missed day.

2007-11-09T11:26:00.000-08:00

Well, I missed a day of NaBloPoMo. My excuse involves all of the following EXCEPT:

- illness
- foul, uncontrollable, sudden onset diarrhea
- a public setting
- control top pantyhose
- single ply tissue
- a guardian angel with warm, soapy cloths, clean underwear and pants, disinfectant, and a gurney. And Immodium AD.

Can you guess correctly?

Hear, HEAR.

2007-11-07T15:04:00.000-08:00

http://bstewart23.com/blog/2007/11/07/my-generation/

He should be elected President...of Canada.

I wonder if there is a similar rise amongst American gay men. I worry about the status of that group, as I don't observe near the amount of activism we had back in the eighties and early nineties. It feels that, as a culture, we believe gay rights were secured with the premiere of Will and Grace.

And yes, on a day like today, a link and a comment counts as a post. Nyah.

Mwah

2007-11-06T14:32:00.000-08:00

Here's the list of blogs I visit daily. DAILY, people. Given the schedule I keep, you and your commenters are virtually my only source of news/entertainment/community. Bless you all, and thank you for what small shreds are left of my sanity:

Hillbilly, Please
Linguini On The Ceiling
Damn Hell Ass Kings....specifically:
50 Books (congrats DG! We love you! Doppelganger is the source of the name "White Trasherati", too.)
Dancing Brave
Go Fug Yourself
Gwen World
Pamie
Pop Culture Junk Mail
The Redhead Papers
Tomato Nation (Sars rocks.)
Ultra Tart
Uncle Bob
Diary of the Food Whore
Mighty Girl
Mad Organica
So That Happened
Bored Housewives Network (DG, I've never posted - it would be awkward now, don't you think? See previous entry on LAZY BLOGGER : )
Dooce
The Comics Curmudgeon
Bumblebee Sweet Potato
Verbatim
Pop Stand
Miscellaneous Etc.
Marigoldie
Anything Said
Life In Mayberry
Barista Brat
The Underwear Drawer
Deep Green Seas
Overheard In The Office
Finslippy
Fussy
Tracy's Pointe (formerly Traces of Me...)
Microfamous
Schnozzfest
Moose In The Kitchen
Fucking Retarded
At The Top of Squirrel Spur
Lady Jan's Homepage

That's THIRTY-NINE specific blogs. Every day. And you thought your writing didn't matter to anyone. Y'all rock my world. Thank you.

A joke. Ahem.

2007-11-05T18:32:00.000-08:00

An ongoing, incredibly popular joke in our family goes as follows:

First person points to chest area of other person: "Hey, you've got some updawg on your shirt."

Person with offending shirt (But it's all a ruse! There's nothing there! Ha! Therein lies the joke! But I stomp on the punchline....): "What's updawg?"

First person: "Nothing, what's up with you?"

(Guffaws ensue....)

I? Live in a house of males. All of whom are under 10, including the Poaikots, who is an 8-year old trapped in a 43-year old body.

Tonight featured that joke, a rousing game of Cranium Whooknu? (big fun, by the way), and carefully staged farts.

Aspiration and blog stop #3.

2007-11-04T15:57:00.000-08:00

When I grow up, I want to be Sisiggy (http://linguiniontheceiling.blogspot.com/).

Her new blog "addendum", Domestic Derring-Do, makes me particularly wish to be her. She's like Martha, only down-to-earth, smart, witty, and not annoying. I particularly admire her ability to address serious topics without taking herself too seriously.

Also, I've had the pleasure of basking in her presence, for real. We held BlogCon East and she invited me to her home even after I got her drunk on limoncello and shared the knowledge of how to craft a tampon out of a maxi pad, should one ever find herself in a situation requiring that McGyver-esque talent. I'm just sayin'....

She does everything effortlessly, or at least thoughtfully, and that's a rare quality.

AND. She'll drink wine, cook, and listen to Dean Martin with me. I think she's perfect.

P.S. Aaaand....puppies. Salt is my homie.

Lazy ass addict

2007-11-03T20:28:00.000-07:00

I just got settled into bed, fighting a cold and exhausted after a day of kid-related activities, and realized with a start that I HADN'T POSTED TODAY. Good lord. So I have rolled my lazy butt out of said bed to do the laziest post ever. I'm a lazy blog addict, so tonight I'll shout out to damnhellasskings.com

I stumbled on them early on and they are now stop #2 in the mornings; some of their contributors will get their own post later in NaBloPoMo. But for now I'm too lazy to give individual shout outs - this entry is the equivalent of the addict who surveys the kitchen cabinets and thinks, "Don't feel like going to the store...hmmm....I'll bet that decade-old creme de menthe would be good with Sprite..."

Goodnight, y'all...hiccup.

My habit.

2007-11-02T13:43:00.000-07:00

We'll start with the one who is to blame, er, who got me started. And it wasn't through cajoling me to begin blogging, or an unintended result of the endless debate of where the comma should go in "Hillbilly, Please", if it should have a comma at all.

I have Jag to thank for the blog monkey on my back. Way back in the day, as the kids say, when we dwelled in cubicles together, she turned me on to lileks.com.
Now this was in the prehistoric era, the dawn of the interweb. From there I moved on to notmydesk.com (now defunct), and became a casual, recreational reader of blogs.

Then the blog epidemic swept the world and suddenly they were cheap, plentiful, and thrilling to read. But I didn't get hooked, man, I mean, I only read them during my lunch hour, or if someone sent me a link.

Then Jag started dealing. Next thing I know, Hillbilly, Please (see link in sidebar because I'm too lazy to embed it here...) is my first stop in the morning. I don't even check my email first.
Can you blame me? The woman is damn smart. I know her as a dear friend/suspected cousin so can vouch for the brilliance you read in her prolific posts. I hit her site multiple times a day, hoping for an update, a new photo, anything to keep me going until the next post.

And I ain't goin' to rehab, no, no, no.

Her blog literally changed my life (and I don't think she knows this story). Via the comments to her posts I came to "know" a number of other smart, funny, articulate bloggers. Via their blogs and comments posted by others, I discovered hundreds of different opinions, voices, and perspectives across the world. This exposure eventually guided my studies and shaped my thesis research on how blogs extend Entman's theory of framing in mass communication (yawn, I know - but comm geeks like me salivate over crap like this...)

I'm quite the extrovert anyway - people fascinate me and I love nothing better than hearing their stories and perspectives. Blogs are my crack, and Jag is my dealer on speed dial. If you are reading this, you undoubtedly arrived here via Jagosaurus. Here's to keeping her on the streets, wheeling and dealing, and educating us all in her brilliant, funny way.

Who I Visit

2007-11-01T12:08:00.000-07:00

While I'm the worst (seriously, the WORST) about staying in touch with people I like, I am the most loyal reader of bloggers there is.

Tomorrow you'll thrill (!) at the list of folks I visit daily, with short comments about why I'm compelled to read them.

So that's my first, very condensed, version of a NaBloPoMo post....just to get warmed up.

Current mood: Luddite

2007-05-15T14:10:00.000-07:00

Apparently I have built a house in the furthest reaches of the universe. Though building it was not fraught with problems or delays (sorry, Sisiggy), getting technology over the river and through the woods is proving very difficult. Very difficult, indeed.

Vexing. Fucking problematic, even.

Oh, and on a not-bitchy note: Congrats to Heir 1, Sisiggy! Freakin' Blogger/Google-whatever-is-controlling-my-blog-access-now won't allow me to comment anywhere. AT ALL. I have lost my voice in the comment universe,which does not sit well because the Trasherati is chatty, y'all.

I'm going to go make fire and send up some smoke signals.

Oh. MY.

2007-05-10T17:29:00.000-07:00

Putting to rest the idea that all nouvelle cuisine originates in California or New York - bite this, Opposite Coasts.

My favorite part: “It’s a candy pickle.” And “I like it the same as dipping hot Cheetos in ice cream (emphasis added - because, oh my god, how can you not emphasize that?).” And “Have you ever tried one with a watermelon Blow Pop?” followed by a pantomime of how the Blow Pop stick can be inserted so that the candy appears as a knob at one end of the pickle, allowing the eater to alternate between bites of sour-sweet pickle and licks of sweet-sour Blow Pop."

Aaaand....it comes from the place of my people, the great state of Mississippi. Don't be a hater.

I heart Spinal Tap

2007-05-10T07:18:00.000-07:00

Who needs Justin Timberlake when these guys are back? *Sigh*

(Props to Karen for the heads up!)

Gay, Straight, or What the Hell?

2007-01-04T08:49:00.000-08:00

There's this show premiering on Lifetime, which I know about because of an ad at Go Fug Yourself - I don't watch much television, but certainly don't feel all haughty/snobby/self important about it. If I could fit it in, I'd be a total TV whore.

But I would never trick this show.
The very premise makes me want to throw back my head and howl, "WHY?!?!". Why do we care? Why would anyone care? Why would someone subject themselves to A) trying to fool someone about their sexuality, B) having to engage in GUESSING someone's sexuality, C) playing this game with multiple other people, with multiple others WATCHING, including your spouse/partner/parents/friends, and D) oh, Christ, the alphabet doesn't contain enough letters to list everything that is wrong with this show.

Why? WHY? But people will watch. And try to guess. And invest their time, energy, and emotions into who guesses correctly, who is or isn't, and who perpetuates stupid stereotypes most convincingly. For WHAT?

P.S. And Jilina, don't describe yourself as "delicious" - it's stupid and makes the gay guy throw up a little bit in his mouth.

HAHAHAHAHA

2006-12-02T19:14:00.000-08:00

My kids have been running about the house for about the last, oh, TEN HOURS, just laughing and playing and making rambunctious happykid noise.

It's the nicest noise EVER.

Run, fugliness, run

2006-11-15T13:25:00.000-08:00

Sproi-oi-ng! Sproi-oi-ng!

Yes. I know. They are ugly. I totally feel you on the ugly. But they bounce, people, and who among us couldn't use a bit more of the spring in our step, hmmm?
I'm just sayin', Jag, that the holidays approach and I know how you like footwear.

And a tiny MP3 player carved from a grain of rice...

2006-11-03T10:41:00.000-08:00

"A sluggish, sick human is easy to spot. But it's harder to tell when a shrimp is under the weather. So one scientist put the little crustaceans on a tiny treadmill [video] to examine how diseases impact their performance. Humans fighting an infection typically sleep more and are not at top physical performance. "The situation is much more critical for a sick marine crustacean, such as a shrimp, where a decrease in performance may mean the difference between life and death," said David Scholnick, a biologist from Pacific University. The shrimp treadmill, invented and built by Scholnick, allows researchers to measure the activity of an exercising shrimp for a set period of time at known speed and oxygen levels."

Shrimp treadmill. Snicker. Tee hee. Ha. Hahaha.

"To further challenge the healthy shrimp, the researchers designed a small backpack made of duct tape to add extra load to the shrimp. With the extra weight and lowered oxygen, they were active for up to an hour."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! SNORT! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Hoo....Oh my. Whew. Hee.

"Shrimp dealing with an infection would be less active and might be limited in their ability to migrate, find food, and avoid being eaten, Scholnick said."

SICK SHRIMP. It's what's for dinner.

Just in time for holiday shopping!

2006-11-03T06:45:00.000-08:00

Spam subject line, this morning:

"Ejaculation bric-a-brac"

It was all I could do not to click on it and whip out my credit card. 'Cause that? Must be some truly unique handiwork (*cough*).

Feelin' not groovy.

2006-10-31T12:23:00.000-08:00

Jag is in a mood most foul today, and I am, too. I wonder if we picked up something in the internet?

Not likely, since I know the origins of my mood. It can be pinpointed exactly. I. Hate. Being. A. Manager.

PlaceIWork sometimes has all the characteristics of a kindergarten playground at recess. I've got folks on my team that are solid professionals, even some that are just out of college and are stepping up to do the job and focus on the work at hand. However, some of them are middle-aged, educated professionals and I swear to whatever deity you choose they need a solid spanking and a timeout. They do the work, but choose to spend an inordinate amount of their time focusing on petty (to me, I know) crap like where their cubicle is located. Whether they sit near a window or not. Whether the FREE SODA is BUBBLY ENOUGH. And who is to blame for these unbearable burdens? Me. Not the company. Me. Like my focus is not supposed to be on, oh, say, getting the work done and the product delivered, but on whether they are feeling sufficiently spoiled and catered to on a daily basis. And if I don't pay enough attention to these details, then I'm deemed a poor manager. Funny, I don't expect my boss to give a rat's ass about whether I am happy in anything except my job.

I did not take these grown-ass people to raise. Grrrr. Welfare? Lookin' better and better...

Spamalot

2006-10-31T08:17:00.000-08:00

Today I received spam email from one Mr. (I'm assuming Mr.) Stanislaus Gibbons, re "politeness fax". Screw you, Stan - I thought we were friends.

It was followed by one from Zachariah McCray, which is what I'm going to name my next hound dog.

This is waddup'.

2006-10-05T07:19:00.001-07:00

I would love to go to this.
Doesn't it sound delightful?

But I just found out about it today, via 37 Days,
which I also just discovered and thoroughly enjoy.

Other discoveries this week include the realization that I cannot tolerate traveling every single weekend, plus during the week for business. I am fried to a deep crisp. My house is in shambles. So this weekend's agenda includes a whole lotta' nothin'. Except hanging out with the offspring and trying to bring some semblance of order to our abode.

Hope your week is full of good discoveries, too.

Yeah, it's RELAXING.

2006-08-23T07:42:00.000-07:00

Correct me if I'm wrong, but a manicure/pedicure combo is supposed to be a luxurious treat, right?

If so, someone needs to tell the guy at Glamour Nails who cracked my toes and filed the skin off my fingers last night.

Seriously, y'all - dude hurt me. It was like Dr. Hannibel Lecter with a cosmetology license. And the nails don't even look that great, but that's partly my fault for choosing this ugly coppery-would-look-good-in-October nail polish. I couldn't ask him to change it because I was afraid he would develop a craving for Trasherati fingers with a glass of Chianti.

I swear, I will NEVER LEARN THIS GIRLIE CRAP. Is there a class I missed in kindergarten or something?

Frasier, frankly.

2006-08-17T13:53:00.000-07:00

"When asked about fellow actor Gary Busey’s bout with coke, (Kelsey) Grammer defended Busey’s reported decision to snort off a dog. “Well, you snort cocaine off a dog because you spilled it on him,” Grammer explained. “You don’t do it intentionally.”

'Cause cutting the lines would be a bitch.

Instead of just setting $1800 on fire....

2006-08-17T13:46:00.000-07:00

"He's normally around me all the time," Steele said. "After I put the crowns on, he didn't 'speak' to me for two days."

I wonder why.

I? Am an ass.

2006-08-07T12:43:00.000-07:00

An update: the friend that I was hesitant to contact? Contacted her. She was tickled to hear from me.

So not only am I an unreliable friend, apparently I'm also paranoid and jump to conclusions and create my own DRAMA, which is the worst kind.

In other news, despite these traits, I've been invited to attend some festivities associated with Jagosaurus and the Almighty Ogre and his family. Can. Not. Wait.
Though it's not yet clear if I'm expected to provide Scandalous Behavior or Steadying Influence. I can do both, you know. You just have to place your order early.

Discuss amongst yourselves....

2006-08-01T12:37:00.000-07:00

I provide you, my in-the-computer friends, a chance to dispense a good solid kick in the butt, and some insight into my id: how do you respond to the following?

I am notoriously awful about keeping in touch with people. I don't just mean random acquaintances - we're talking about people I love, those who's company I enjoy, people who add a great deal to my life. You few who read this blog and know me well are guffawing at the understatement that is "notoriously awful about keeping in touch". I suck at it. And this is from someone who is described as a good communicator and majored in said activity, even receiving an advanced degree in the discipline. To wit: I never send birthday/holiday/congratulations cards; I don't write letters; I don't return calls with any consistency; I don't return emails, like, ever. (I do read blogs, which probably does not count.) Best friend of 25 years? Still can't tell you her birthdate. See? Suckage.

While I have struggled with this all my life, I still have not reconciled my desire to improve with different actions. And I'm not offering any excuses why I'm so rude and thoughtless. What I'm struggling with now is how to go about improving on past behaviors: I last spoke to a friend a few months ago. She understands to a certain extent that I'm "busy", and to a lesser extent about the aforementioned suckage. I'm assuming that she's hasn't contacted me because A)she's given up on me, or B) is waiting for me to contact her, while half hoping that I won't because her patience with my inconsistent communication is exhausted.

I feel like if I get in touch with her that it would require a certain amount of me apologizing/promising to do better. And something in the most immature part of my personality resents that. I know. I know. I should do better, I KNOW ALREADY but that doesn't make it easier for the irresponsible two-year old in me to face the fact that I might have to just DEAL with the fact that I've consistently DISAPPOINTED SOMEONE. I always expect the same amount of insane tolerance I exhibit towards others and that's not at all realistic. You could not call me for years and I'd pick up the phone like no time had passed. But I'm NOT NORMAL. Normal people make a regularly scheduled effort, right?

So. There's one of the warts. Do you know anyone like me? How do you deal with that person? What would "improvement" look like to you?

What're you doin'?

2006-07-26T07:41:00.000-07:00

We returned from NYC - nice trip. The restaurants were great with the exception of one Italian place recommended by The Cop On The Street. Maybe he gets a kickback, I don't know. We got the recommendation because my sister TALKS TO EVERYONE. She's the Supreme Questioner.

Poaikots and I went to see the Bodies Exhibition. It's incredibly compelling, though I'm so shallow that my overall response to it was "we are incredibly high-functioning slabs of meat". Poaikots was more impressed and moved, but he's a science geek (Hi, Jag!)

My nephew grabbed a book and chose to roam around the city by himself, finding parks to read in and quirky places to grab food. He's a real gourmand and thoroughly enjoyed the meals. My nephews are awesome. While we were out of town, his brother returned from two weeks in Barcelona - I can't wait to hear about it.

In other news: the boys got to watch Poaikots remove tomato worms from my plants yesterday. He used my kitchen tongs to pluck them off. Needless to say, those tongs are now reserved for that use only. It was a sufficiently gross activity to entertain them for a while.

Because, yes, you do care.

2006-07-17T08:46:00.000-07:00

Update #1: We are staying in place for another school year, while the new house is built in PlaceWe'reMovingTo. The only minor drawback is that means another year at PlaceIWork. So, yeah, another 12 months of soul-sucking corporate hell...and I'll only teach one class in the fall. So, at least I'm still living close to comedy clubs and Starbucks.

Update #2: Many of my favorite in-the-Internet friends are either stressed out, burned out, or otherwise abandoning me, er, I mean, vacationing. So, I'm a big crybaby because these people don't live solely to entertain me. Sniff.

Update #3: The Poaikots and I are traveling to NYC on Thursday for a little vacation, sans offspring. My sister and nephew are joining us for their first ever jaunt to the Big Apple. Guilty admission? We're mainly going to take advantage of the last two days of Restaurant Week. Because I? Am a food whore. Like Gwen, I'm a food snob who wants really good food but also will snarf Jack In The Box tacos. If we had them in Northern Virginia, which we don't, but I miss them from my days in Albuquerque. Tacos, and LottaBurger. So, I'm going to New York to whore it up FOR CHEAP in the city's restaurants.

Update #4: I'm going to take another class at the Improv, with a small group that will focus on joke writing. Or what another comic haughtily refers to as "material development". So, I will have to quash the urge to "develop" "material" about what a snide, unfunny assjack he is.

When last we left the concert....

2006-07-06T12:40:00.000-07:00

So a few Mondays ago the Poaikots and I went to see Keb' Mo and Bonnie Raitt. After dining on the grounds of the venue, we took our seats in the balcony box to see Mr. Mo. Who we love. A lot. And rarely get to see live.

It's kind of a laid back venue and everyone was fairly subdued because it was also bitch hot, especially in the amphitheatre. So we're sitting, we're listening, we're clapping, and enjoying ourselves. Until.

Now up to this point, the only people sitting to my immediate right (separated by a shoulder-high partition) are a middle-aged couple. They are the only ones in the box, with an empty row of seats in front of them, which face a low cement wall. Said cement wall is there to prevent folks from hurtling into the orchestra seats far below. And are used to anchor a multitude of heavy stagelights.

So about halfway through Mr. Mo's set, the only things that have caught my attention are: GuyNextToMe periodically and spasmodically breaks into serious air-drumming. Okay, he's into drumming or would like to be, no big deal. Other thing: he chooses to yell "Keb Mo!". A lot. And while said Keb Mo is singing. Not after the song, not while others are applauding, but while Mr. Mo is singing and everyone else is listening. And enjoying the singing. And not so much enjoying the yelling of "Keb Mo!". Like, dude, I know who the fuck is on stage, okay? Shut. Up.

So I'm ignoring the air-drumming and tolerating the loud Artist Identification System announcements, and then They arrive. They are three fairly attractive middle-aged women and their...grandma? Great-grandma? The first sign of trouble is when one of them suddenly appears at the first row of seats in front of Air Drummer Guy, turns her back to the stage, and proceeds to loudly and drunkenly YELL at the others to hurry up " 'cause Keb Moshe's shingin'!"
Which, thanks, drunken chick! Because I had ignored earlier broadcasts of the Artist Identification System, so had no clue who the black man onstage was, much less what he was doing. Now bear in mind, for those of y'all who don't listen to Mr. Mo', his music is sort of subdued. It's blues music, so while folks get all riled up with appreciation after his songs, they aren't of the "let's-yell-Free-Bird-while-he's-singing" variety.

So They file into their seats, after much deliberation and falling against one another and pushing poor sober Grandma around in attempts to sit next to her. However, Their seating plan wasn't quite functional. Because Drunk Chick #1 was sitting on the aisle, and really wanted to interact/DANCE WITH Drunk Chick #3, who was sat at the far end of the row, effectively flanking Not So Drunk Chick #2 and Sober Grandma. So instead of changing seats or, oh, SHUTTING UP, Drunk Chicks #1 & #3 proceed to stand up and dance. If by "dance" you mean "shake their middleaged asses to some rhythm they only hear in their heads because it doesn't match what's coming from the stage at all". And issue the aforementioned mating call of the drunken middleaged white woman: Ooooowwwww! Aaaand lean forward so that Air Drummer has their asses in his face, which his wife is enjoying far less than he is. Aaaand the leaning forward is influenced by the approximately gazillion wine coolers They had earlier because Their "dancing" now is more "potentially lethal tumbling".

At which point my tarblack heart is revealed, because the only thing I'm thinking is that the poor bastards in the orchestra seats below will get nailed by the stagelight that will break Their fall and save Them, dammit. And I will have to write my own blues song about how They continued to interrupt Mr. Mo's real fans, the ones who come to hear him sing.

Eventually Air Drummer's wife fetched an usher who sshh'd them (while she was gone, the Drunk Chicks turned to Air Drummer and cooed "Oh, we aren't bothering y'all, are we?". And Air Drummer ASSHOLE answered, "Ah, that's just my wife. Ignore her. I do. I'm havin' a great time!". Then they all drunkenly whooped and high fived). Then after the intermission Drunk Chicks #2 and #3 didn't return, so Drunk Chick #1 spread herself out next to Sober Grandma and pretty much quieted down. Air Drummer Asshole was so disappointed.

God, I love the general public.

OOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!

2006-07-03T20:49:00.000-07:00

We are going on a short family vacation, but when I return remind me to tell you the story of the Keb' Mo'/Bonnie Raitt concert and the mating call of the drunken middle-aged white woman. Who is not me, by the way.

And big ups to Jagosaurus on her birthday!

2nd Annual Trashy BlogCon

2006-06-19T13:56:00.000-07:00

We might meet again!
If we didn't scare Sissigy off.

The bylaws state that we must allow her time to talk at this meeting, and that Jagosaurus will consume her fair share of alco...uh, officially sanctioned recreational beverages.

Rudy will officiate.

Go. Do. Please.

2006-06-19T13:37:00.000-07:00

Because god knows Mississippi needs books.

Not because they are ignorant, but because they lost a lot of books in the hurricane.

(And I'm not saying they are ignorant - my family is from there. As a child, I remember having books delivered through the mail to our rural home outside Meehan, Mississippi - so anything that gets books to people any easier than using USPS is good by me.)

And thank you. From a Mississipian.

Hey.

2006-06-08T14:26:00.000-07:00

It's done. The Master's degree, I mean.
So...

What do I do now? This is the first week since graduation that has been relatively normal. We traveled to North Carolina for my nephew's graduation, then had family here with us for a few days after that (hi Dawn!)

Now I'm settling into the rhythm of going to work, coming home, and not having to read school-related materials, develop lecture notes, write papers, grade papers, read some more, or answer emails and calls from students.
And work? Hella busy. And I told them that we're leaving the area in anywhere from two to twelve months. The reason for the screwy, indecisive timeframe? The Piece of Ass I Keep On The Side (commonly referred to as Poaikots...or "spouse") has applied for a job in PlaceWe'reMovingTo. If he gets it, we move this summer and wait for the house to be built. If he doesn't, we stay here while the house is being built and I continue at PlaceIWork until next summer.
Frankly, the move-this-summer option would be better for me because I could have a short sabbatical, then teach part-time in the fall. Sigh.
If we stay put, it's another year of soul-sucking corporate hell.

I think it's time for a vacation.

Is it insane to plan a trip north in the heat of summer? I'm thinking of packing up the Offspring, the Poaikots, and Rudy and heading to NYC for a long weekend, then driving up to see Niagra Falls and going to Canada. We've not visited there, and Bush continues to piss me off so a scouting trip might be in order anyway.

On second thought, Rudy might not be an urban animal - perhaps Jagosaurus would dog-sit.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to developing a more fulfilling routine now that school is finished. I did manage to read Reynolds Price's Noble Norfleet. Typically magical Price prose, if you can shush the creepy mental mantra of "Okay, we get it, Price - you dig oral sex. Enough already. I understand that you love to pleasure women with your mouth. Good God." I found that story thread kept getting in the way of me investing in the relationships between the characters, and understanding the women in the novel. They were reduced to subjects of his "worship" and were never fully fleshed out for me. No pun intended. See? See what the repeated references to sex have done to me? Maybe I'm a literature prude. Or maybe I just need to get laid.

All hail Tomato Nation!

2006-05-10T11:54:00.000-07:00

I love Sars - this is one reason why, aside from the fact that the Girls Bike Club is pretty much the funniest thing EVER. Kudos to her for helping kids read.

Whaddup, dawg?

2006-05-04T12:38:00.000-07:00

The famous, much-coveted Rudy. Best. Dog. Ever.

Whinefest, 2006

2006-05-02T07:28:00.000-07:00

I am on the cusp, the cusp, I tell you, of finishing The Project. You won't hear from me until mid-May, unless The Project isn't finished by May 8, in which case you'll hear the screaming and the pulling-out-of-the-hair and the-losing-of-the-mind.

I just want it to be over. I've procrastinated because I'd rather be doing anything other than writing. I resent the fact that The Project is preventing me from going to the zoo with The Offspring, and keeping me from my beloved recliner, flanked by a glass of Shiraz and Anne Lamott.

Freakin' M.A. better be worth it.

Winnie's the shit

2006-04-12T14:48:00.000-07:00

Good for him .

I love Winnie the Pooh. Always have, even though saying that as an adult marks you as a bit...twee.

My mother-in-law bought me a Pooh sweatshirt one year. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I have vowed never to be one of those women. And you know exactly who I'm talking about, don't you? Holiday-themed sweaters with matching turtlenecks, Disney character earrings, and mom jeans.

And if that describes your wardrobe, you need to stop it right now. Unless you're a first grade teacher. Then it's your uniform.

De question

2006-04-06T12:36:00.000-07:00

On the first night of class, every semester, my students have to introduce themselves. The purpose is twofold; I get a jump on trying to match 20+ names to 20+ faces, and it gets them past that first mortifying communication apprehension speedbump.

However, I detest the "share your name/grade/major" introduction format, so I make them share their name and either the worst movie they've ever seen (and why it sucked), or I ask them to answer this question:

If you have to get a tattoo, where would it be located and what would it be? And you must get one; doesn't matter if you have one or several or none already. I'm always fascinated by their answers.

So, my few in-the-computer friends, what's your answer?*

*Mine would be on my arm, and would read "Love One Another". In case you wondered.

Clickety click, people

2006-03-24T07:40:00.000-08:00

Don't mess with an Indian woman. Or any woman, for that matter.
Thanks to Bitch Ph.D. for her usual perceptive attention to the issues.

If ya'll have any spare change, here's a chance to help out WT's native brethren, help shore up our steadily eroding rights, AND stick it just a little bit to the white eyes running the South Dakota legislature.

I'm a bad person...

2006-02-28T12:21:00.000-08:00

A badass person...'cause I want to do this.

Oh, come on - you don't think that would be fun? Yes, it's glorifying violence, and how do you know the person knows they're being marked for assassination, and it's just wrong, I know, but come on, people. I would totally feel like a really cool movie character and that's way better than feeling like a fat frumpy suburban mother of two.

Plus I would totally kick ass at this assassin thing. Heh.

I got your hate group right here....

2006-02-24T07:20:00.000-08:00

Bastards.

Curling hurts.

2006-02-24T07:12:00.000-08:00

And would someone please explain curling to me because, sweet (insert deity of your choice), I just can't come up with anything except speed...sweeping? With a stone? On ice? But they don't wear skates? And...help me, my BRAIN IS CRAMPING NOW.

Can't. breathe. Must. reach. books.

2006-02-24T06:58:00.000-08:00

I sat and read last night. This is a MIRACLE, people, as it wasn't a text for grad school or the newspaper. Lately I've felt very unsettled and stressed out and realized it's due to lack of reading. I've read daily since the age of five up until the past few years, when my reading has been limited by things like kids, jobs, and school. But I finally realized that reading for me has never been "recreational"; it's essential. So after feeling like my breathing has been hampered for a few years, I finally made the connection and have started drawing in long, deep, satisfying words on a page. Ahhhh....that's better.

So I've decided that it's like my life is an airplane that's losing pressure, and instead of an oxygen mask, a book has dropped out of the ceiling. So I'm pressing it to my face to ensure my own survival first, so then I can turn and help the small children with theirs. Lately I've been pressing books to their faces first and leaving myself gasping. Apparently I'm not good at listening to flight instructions. Or creating effective metaphors.

My heart's desire

2006-02-17T11:53:00.000-08:00

Edited: Well, this is annoying. It's supposed to show a little candy heart imprinted with "Stop Bush". I made it here. Apologies for the frustration.

Lucky, fortunate me

2006-02-16T09:31:00.000-08:00

Tonight I get to bask in the presence of none other than Jagosaurus.

We are going to dinner and might perhaps have a recreational beverage. And I have a present for her. Which is significant because, while it is a small trifling present, I am typically a horrid friend who does not think to do small gestures. But I am slowly learning late in life to do small gestures. I might create a list of things to do this year that involves sending lovely small trifling presents to you, my in-the-computer friends, if you wish. Let me know.

Jagosaurus, on the other hand, is thoughtful. Exceedingly so. Case in point: while today I am not sporting the fabulous pink pig necklace, most days I do wear it because it is fabulous and thoughtful and of Jagosaurus. And don't even get me started on the Extruded Native American.

And I realize that last paragraph makes us both sound like freaks.

So tonight, tequila and talk of blogging and books and families and my dog, whom she covets and CAN'T HAVE. (Jagosaurus *hearts* Rudy). Rudy is not a small trifling present, and I'll never be that thoughtful.

Oh. Well. Really.

2006-02-14T15:46:00.000-08:00

Overheard in the ladies' room at PlaceIWork:

"Ow! Dammit! I hate a dry tampon!"

Damn straight

2006-02-10T13:59:00.000-08:00

I have vowed never to use the phrase "You go, girl" in conversation, but....it burst out of me after reading this - sorry, apparently I haven't mastered the intricacies of a simple LINK yet. You have to read past the part about the zombies (how's that for a teaser?)

So cut and paste away...both of you.

http://www.metrotimes.com/editorial/story.asp?id=8853/.

And in breaking news, it snowed so I baked. A lemon-berry shortbread tart. And a meatloaf. Because, I? Got it like that.

I'm It.

2006-01-26T11:49:00.000-08:00

To paraphrase Marion Barry (which...eww), Hillbilly set me up. I've been tagged.

4 jobs I've had:
1. Ran a comic book store.
2. NASA contractor/slacker
3. Tobacco primer ("harvester" or "picker" to non-southern folk)
4. Bartender

4 places I've lived:
1. Kauai, Hawaii (born there)
2. Meridian, Mississippi
3. Albuquerque, New Mexico
4. Occupied Virginia

4 favorite TV shows (I don't think I've watched enough of any show to even have one favorite - so these are lies, I guess.):
1. Frasier
2. Dog, The Bounty Hunter
3. Arrested Development
4. Jimmy Neutron

4 places I've been on vacation:
1. Major European Cities
2. Vail, Colorado
3. Meridian, Mississippi
4. North Carolina

4 favorite foods:
1. Thai
2. Italian
3. Southern Fried/Smothered in Cheese
4. Espresso

4 places I'd rather be:
1. Becoming one with a pile of books and a good bottle of wine.
2. Home with my boyz (to include my dawg - I'm serious. Bassett hound/beagle. Big ups to Rudy!).
3. Major European Cities
4. Onstage at the Improv

5 sites I visit daily (I visit about 20 sites daily):
1. Hillbilly, Please
2. Tomato Nation
3. Marigoldie
4. Dooce
5. Bored Housewives Network

As my good friend would say - "Well...there it is."

And I assume that after boring you to death, I'm now compelled to subject, er, I mean, tag someone else? Okay - I'm nothing if not compliant. Here's lookin' at you, kid.

Heeere's...Doppelganger!

2006-01-26T11:17:00.000-08:00

Get thee over to 50 Books and see what DG is up to! She's famous! She's sought after! She's not a whore! And she does not relieve herself in cabs (though Master Sam might).

My MP3 runneth over - and god(s) bless Pickett

2006-01-23T13:52:00.000-08:00

A (hefty) donation to the local PBS channel has netted...Superstars of 70s Soul. A lovely 4-cd set, flanked by TWO DVDs featuring the bands/singers LIVE, onstage, in all their geriatric fundraising glory.

Sigh.

It's a good life I'm livin'.

Sidebar: How have I lived in this area that Jagosaurus calls Occupied Virginia for lo these many years and NOT KNOWN that Wilson "Wicked" Pickett was my neighbor?!?
How does that happen, people? Living thisfreakinclose to a legend and I never even stopped by to say "thanks, man, your music helped round out the edges of my life" and now he's dead.

Again with the sigh....

Don't hate me because I'm a Luddite

2006-01-09T13:31:00.000-08:00

Can you keep a secret? Sure? Okay...until a few months ago, we never had...cable.

I know.

Between PlaceIWork, grad school, teaching, and two kids + spouse, I don't have much time to watch. But between Dog the Bounty Hunter, Rollergirls, and the Food Network? Man. The temptation is great.

But I am NOT buying a TiVo. A bibliophile has to have some limits.

Ya'll rock

2006-01-06T12:46:00.000-08:00

I really admire writers like Marigoldie. I can't put myself out there like that. Her list of 100 things about herself made me feel slightly ashamed for using the term "white trash" without explanation or defense. Though I'll continue to use it and am too lazy right now to post an explanation or defense.

I love other bloggers more than blogging itself. Literally. You'll find a few of the objects of my adoration linked on the right. Who do you read? Drop a comment and share the love.

Power to the callers!

2006-01-05T14:02:00.000-08:00

This man is a consumer's hero. According to today's Washington Post, he's published this handy dandy cheat sheet to allow those of us who hand over substantial sums of money to businesses and pay taxes to actually speak to a person at said business or government agency.
Now they can't hide. They can still be rude and unhelpful, but they can't hide. I love me some Internet.

I went to college for this?

2005-12-21T12:35:00.000-08:00

I gotta' find a new day job. Fast.

Life is a rock, but Greg Brady rolled me.....

2005-12-20T09:09:00.000-08:00

I am supposed to be working right now at my gainful employment, but am planning on wrapping up a research paper on company time. But am finding it impossible to focus on either activity because last night heralded the arrival of the Time/Life 70s Music EXPLOSION CD Collection, including the bonus 70s One-Hit Wonders CD (do I hear a shoutout for Paper Lace? David Soul? VICKI LAWRENCE??!!), and the eight (8!!!!) additional CDs featuring "Legends of 70s Rock".

Yeah, baby....LEGENDS. Of the SEVENTIES. As hawked by none other than Greg Brady himself. Oh yeah, I said it - BOUGHT 'EM ALL.

I am the happiest, trashiest woman on the planet. It's like the 70s fairy flew by and took a crap in my office.

TRUST me, man....

2005-12-19T13:37:00.000-08:00

Conversation that occurred during a Starbucks run a few minutes ago with a friend:

Trasherati: So, what are you getting *name of new girlfriend* for Christmas?
Male Friend: Eh, you know, we're not doing that.
Trasherati: Have you had sex?
Male Friend: Wha-? I mean, yeah, we've had sex, but I-
Trasherati: Jewelry. You get her jewelry.
Male Friend: Wow, really? Ya' think? 'Cause we agreed we weren't doing gifts and I-
Trasherati: Dude, I know what you think you agreed to. But I'm telling you that even the least girly of girls has a few frilly brain cells floating around in the back of her mind that whisper "jewelry" from anyone she's boning.
Male Friend: Did you just say 'boning'? Oh my god, you did not just say boning. And doesn't jewelry say 'commitment'?
Trasherati: Nope. A ring says commitment. A joint account says commitment. A nice bracelet just says 'boning'. And I'm a romantic.

Trasherati-esque

2005-12-01T12:04:00.000-08:00

If I were an artist, my work would be inevitably be featured here.
(Ogre & Jagosaurus - my pig was proof of that....)

If you blog it, they will come....

2005-11-22T12:41:00.000-08:00

Big ups to my girl Jagosaurus.

If you haven't been there yet, go visit. Like the first thousand, you won't regret it.

Why ya' gotta' go all Olsen twin on me?

2005-11-22T10:37:00.000-08:00

This week I keep running smack up against women who are dieting. For an EVENT. And it's driving me batshit.

One is denying herself food because she's getting married. In April.
And over across the blogosphere, Ultratart has decided to "get lean" for Heather's wedding and even changed her header to feature a Diet Coke can for inspiration or something, I dunno.
Another wants to fit into a certain size dress for a company Christmas party. You read that right. A company Christmas party.

The thing is, I respect all of these women a great deal. I just can't get behind the whole starve-yourself-skinny-so-you-look-a-certain-way-for-ONE-DAY mentality.

Good lord, everyone at these events knows you. They love you. All of you. And all of you will be draped in some sort of fabulousness, making you look even more beautiful than ever. No one will be looking at you and thinking, "Damn, girlfriend couldn't have tried to drop a few pounds?"

Aaaaaannd - men don't feel the need to do this. Men never refuse a beer or hot cheesy goodness with the phrase "Oh, no, better not! I've got to fit into my Dockers next month." Bah.

I Can't Get No....

2005-11-18T07:21:00.000-08:00

Today's mood: craving pimento cheese on squishy-soft bread.

Hey, it's my blog. I'm just sayin'.

Tar-jay? No way.

2005-11-16T11:19:00.000-08:00

Now, before some of you get all keyboard-twitchy and commenty, a clarifying comment: Plan B pills are NOT abortion pills. While it is often confused with Mifeprex/RU486, they are not the same. Plan B prescriptions are simply higher doses of birth control pills designed to prevent fertilization/implantation. You know, the same thing birth control pills do for your system every month, only it's a one-shot deal. They do not cause your uterus to spit forth anything that has already melded egg and sperm and started forming a placenta. It does not do that.

This fundamental difference apparently cannot be grasped by a fundamentalist mind.
And Target is not helping.

What a great employer! I'm gonna' work for Target. They'll support me in my views, and let me really teach those who don't agree with my moral perspective a lesson. Target will be my muscle, letting me abscond my job responsibilities the second something offends my capricious sensibilities. Yeah, that's right, going to get me some monolithic Target power behind my mission. What they don't ask on the job application is what that mission is. Mine is that NO ONE SHOULD SPEND THEIR MONEY AT TARGET.

Is there nothing too trashy for the Washington Post?

2005-11-14T14:10:00.000-08:00

"The Church of the Rapture and Paradise Liquor prepare to leave corner of 14th and T behind."

Nice headline. At first I thought it was an article about a star-crossed D.C. romance. Turns out it's about the real estate boom.

From the article: "When the Church of the Rapture sells for $10 million this year, the Pentecostal storefront on the corner of 14th and T streets NW hits the jackpot. Pastor Theresa Garrison always says that God channels his wishes through her, and when He said, "Sell," it was near the peak of a commercial real estate boom on 14th Street.".

I'm just glad she assumed God meant "sell the church" - if He had spoke to someone else in that part of the 'hood, it might have ended with Paradise Liquor throwing a twenty on the nightstand while Church of the Rapture packed up the little soaps and shampoo.

Talk about promoting Bush....

2005-11-10T13:53:00.000-08:00

Jack. Pot.

I'm buying cases of these and distributing them to every stripper, hooker, and crack whore I can find. That way the Republican party will be sure to see and enjoy them at the next convention.

I'm all about helping to spread (hee!) the message, baby....

2005-11-08T12:53:00.000-08:00

Mood: estrogen enhanced. This does not bode well for the general public.

I teach. Let me clarify...I am an adjunct faculty member at a local university, so I teach two nights a week. I hate to begin any discussion this way, but AM I THE ONLY PERSON WHO IS NOT DEAF IN MY CLASSES?!!?

I have fielded no less than thirty emails today, ranging from minor not-following-the-guidelines-as-expressly-stated-in-the-handbook, to "I missed last night's exam. When can I make it up?" (Um, I dunno. Oh, wait - do I owe you more of an explanation or information than is being provided to me? Sorry! I'll make a special time for you right now.)

And don't get me started on the inability to choose a topic for a research paper. Textbook=index=pick one. Any one. Any. One. Really. Any time now. Paper's due Monday.

If I ever believed that children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way, it has been beaten out of me by the Chinese torture of a steady stream of stupid.

I will now visit both the bowl of candy on my desk and the nearest Starbucks. Then I'll feel like teaching again tonight.

2005-08-16T06:21:00.000-07:00

Under construction - please visit again soon.