Let's Go Crazy

No wonder I didn't have a heapin' helpin' of excitement for Friday Night - I designated it "Chore Night." Who would look forward to that? Kenny's working, so I figured I'd take care of a bunch of household shit, and now it's just made me cranky with a touch of grouch to boot. And seriously, I've done very little. I feel like I can never get ahead, that's why I have no sense of accomplishment no matter what task I complete. Oh, I know, I know - Twinkle and Daddy took care of a few things the other night. But there's still just one thing after the other. We get one table cleaned, and the next one is piled twice as high. I just got done folding 2 loads of laundry (Daddy might wash and dry, but the folding does not happen - which leads to wrinkles and more work, but now I'm just sounding ungratefully bitchy) and scrubbing the common hallway. Daddy and Twinkle took out a bag of trash, that had a leak in the bag, and it looked like a murdered body had been dragged from our house to the driveway. I've looked at that for a few days now and decided enough was enough, how long exactly was I just going to walk over it and ignore it.

The rest of my night is going to consist of making a few trips with Stuff in Hand to the basement and trying to get the kitchen table cleared off once again. It had a fleeting moment of cleanliness, but it never lasts very long. At least I'll have used Chore Friday for getting something accomplished.

Now that I think about it, I have some pretty shitty things to do on my weekend list. I have to write a persuasive speech for work for a 2-day seminar on Tuesday. There's absolutely no fun in that, with the only silver lining being that I can use it for a Toastmasters speech and let it pull double-duty. I thought about writing that up tonight as well, but it doesn't appear like it's going to get done. Ah, well, onto other things.

Last night was my much-anticipated evening at the E.J. Thomas Hall in Akron for my date with Bill Maher. Dag, he was funny! And quite controversial. He brought out the hecklers in the area, and security had to throw them out. Something got 'em all fired up regarding his mention of Rush Limbaugh - they went off on a tangent about the World Trade Centers, didn't even make sense, but as my father is fond of saying, "It takes all kinds of people to make up a world."

Bill didn't disappoint me, and I think I fell a little more in love with him after his rant on the fairytale that's religion. I, for those readers who don't know, don't subscribe to the belief of organized religions. It's all about making money on some promise with no tangible deliverables. And as Bill pointed out last night, it's really just some other guy telling you what to think - no one knows. No one knows anything for sure. All these fantasies about heaven and hell and the afterlife - who could possible even know that. No one walking around the earth, that's what I know. But despite my disbelief in the whole religion thing, I do believe in psychics, so go figure. In fact, Linda and I just discussed making our appointment with one for later this month.

Peace, and I hope to have some exciting photos by the end of the weekend. Photos of more than just cats. Saturday has a plan of attending the Feast of the Assumption. If I dare to take my $700 camera to that, I could probably get some super fun pictures. If I dare...

Bad Attitude

I had to have a chat with Sir Twinkle re: his very foul language. Where in the world does he get that?

What the F Ever.

Ah, well Hello There. Momee got this new camera and all she's done so far is take a bunch of pictures of me. I wish she'd get this fucking thing out of my face, but since she won't.....here ya go, some really nice pictures of my face and fur.

Momee drank an entire bottle of wine tonight by herself. Some people would call that a "problem." Momee chalks it up to cooking all night in a kitchen sans dishwasher. She's always bitchin' about something around the house. Not sure what her prob is, me & Daddy worked like DOGS around the house today to make it nice for her when she came home. We vacuumed. I had to tell the other cats to Calm The Fuck Down when the vacuum was running. Jeeze, they lose their cat minds when that thing goes. It's just a floor cleaner, Deal already. Dad and I also did two (that's 2 People, for those of you who listen when Momee says she had to do every fucking thing herself) loads of laundry, made the bed and cleaned all the shit off the coffee table. To prove it, here's a picture of my cat ass sprawled the fuck out all over those cool, cool coffetable tiles:

I wouldn't have been able to lay like this if it weren't for Daddy. Daddy, cleaner and put-er-away-er. You should really be able to see the beauty of my fur with Momee's new fancy camera. Whatever. All I know is she needs to get that flash outta my face before I get it out of my face for her.

I've (or Momee, but we don't like to point fingers) have just finished my 2nd beer on top of a bottle of wine. So I'm heading off to hit the hay. Fuck all ya'all.

~~Twinkle.

Fun With Your Pants Off

A few things to note about the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2:

1/ That it was popular enough to warrant a sequel. Apparently more than just myself liked the first one.

2/ There was an unexpected amount of male attendees at the show.

3/ Many of the movie goers were my own age.

4/ It is possible for one person to eat an entire large popcorn, right down to the unpopped kernels.

5/ If you're going to eat that much popcorn, be sure to have enough soda on hand to wash down that last kernel that gets stuck in your throat and causes a few moments of unappreciated coughing (sorry, Movie Goers!).

6/ Those girls can still make me laugh and cry and become a part of them.

7/ Rory (Lena) looks good, but she has a very big forehead.

8/ Are we really supposed to suspend reality and believe that Rory and the chick from Ugly Betty (Carmen) can fit in the same pair of jeans?? Really??

9/ The movie makers obviously felt it necessary to add some diversity to the romances, which was NOT part of the books. I don't believe that Brian was of Asian influence in the original. Now he's Asian. And Rory had a fleeting moment with a mixed race dude. Don't recall that from the books.

10/ Greek girls don't lose their pants, according to Ya Ya.

Where's The Hound Dog?

Summer wouldn't be complete without groovin' to a little Fake Elvis, nibbling on some grilled corn on the cob and enjoying a cold draught beer from a plastic cup.

Ah, bliss!

Wholesome fun was had at Brooklyn Homedays Friday night. Kenny thought I was drunk because I was all hopped up, singing aloud with Fake Elvis, knowing words to songs neither he nor Tim had heard before. But I knew them, as I do not exaggerate when I proclaim my Elvising runs deep and true. I know every inflection and gyration that any proper Fake Elvis should do. And I don't need any beer to get my toes tapping, legs shaking, and out-loud singing to commence. I can't help myself, the songs burst forth from my lips. And yes, Tim and I did shake up the dance floor for a few numbers! He was drunk, however. Kenny was busy running the sound, so he was exempt from having to dance me.

Our Fake Elvis was great, he did a fun job and I managed to get another Fake Elvis Scarf to add to my collection of Fake Elvis Scarves. And I've decided that in 2009 I want to go back to Memphis and do Elvis Town up once again. We've been pushing that idea aside every time it comes up due to the cost to go there, but Kenny realized that we can actually take one of his many free offers to go to Harrah's in Tunica, which is about 20 minutes from Memphis. So we get free airfare right there, and a free hotel, rent a car and go get my King on at Graceland. I've already done all the tours there, but you can never see too much Graceland. So there, our first 2009 trip is in the hopper.

Guilt Assuaged!

Saturday evening I took a drive over to Sophie's, to finally catch up and deliver some bakery and magazines. I am back in Good Granddaughter standings, as I filled up a Tupperware container I was returning with fresh blueberries and strawberries. She would NEVER spend money on those frivolous fruits for herself, so it was a real treat. I also trimmed her hair, which is a really tough task, as she has her household scissors for me to use to do the job. Having been used to trim bushes in the yard, cut fabric and any other task that requires scissors, they cut hair very unevenly. Not to mention I'm not a hairdresser, nor have I ever taken any hairdo classes, despite what you may think based on my successful self-coloring attempts. So I'm just chopping away at it, following the doctors creed of First, Do No Harm. I figure an inch off the length can't harm too much. It certainly could benefit from a professional cutting, but that would cost $12, so scratch that. The household scissors wielded by an untrained granddaughter will do the trick just fine, thank you.

Going Off The Deep End

I had to go into work on a Sunday, which is frankly just about the craziest talk ever, but sometimes it is necessary. Promotion doesn't come without demands, apparently. We have a long Monday afternoon presentation, and I need to make sure my part is up and ready to go so I'm not running around crazed with stress on Monday morning. I'm much sharper on a Sunday afternoon than a dragging-in Monday morning. But the off putting part is, I didn't even realize I was doing anything with this until Thursday. It's part of my new role, but I only stepped in at the last minute to help with it. Whatever it takes, that's fine, but I would have been gathering this stuff together sooner had I known. Oh, well, somehow it all gets done. Yeah, that "somehow" meaning working on a Sunday, usually. And late on Friday night as well....poor me :)

Ken and I enjoyed a late breakfast at the Colonial this morning, having corned beef hash, poached eggs and homemade potato pancakes. That should tie me over and fuel me for a productive afternoon. Since Ken's working his last day at Brooklyn Homedays today, I thought it might be a good time to go see the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants 2. I tried to convince Tim, but he said that was really too "homo" for him, although he normally embraces that pretty well - I mean, he's a huge fan of Gilmore Girls, and I reminded him that Rory is in Sisterhood, and I did see him waver just a bit. I bet I could convince him. He admitted to Tivo'ing the 1st Sisterhood, but deleted without watching out of fear he just might enjoy himself.

In the interest of trying to get some actual work done while I'm at work right now, I will end this fine, fine post and hope that my computer at home is back to working when I try her again later tonight. Oh, yeah- I forgot to type that part, the fucking thing just decided to freeze, baby, and is not participating in it's job of being a computer. I loves me some Vista...next computer, Air Mac. Or whatever it's called. I've only had this thing for a year, it's a piece of shit to work with. I mean, I have a demanding public that needs to read what I had for breakfast, for crying out loud.

Peace, until I blog again....

Stiffer, Longer, Harder

Spam: It isn't just for supper anymore.

Apparently, Soft Viagra can help me achieve a well-to-do sex life. Huh. And if that's doing the trick, Generik Viagra can help me write new pages in my sexual history. Oh, I've recently tried something that will increase my penis size. If my exhusband starts to grow, we'll know it works! (get it, cause he's a dick - ba-dum-bump!)

My Catholic Guilt Runneth Over

I'm seriously stressed because I haven't called Sophie in a couple of weeks - and all I need to do is PICK UP THE PHONE AND CALL and all traces of guilt will be vanquished. But no. I don't do that, instead I sit around and worry about what a Bad Granddaughter I am, and make plans to call the next day.

Here's the conundrum. I plan to call during the day. I've been too busy to really spend time chatting on the phone. I'm not much of a phone chatter anyway, much better emailer, so I really need to prep myself up for it sometimes. I feel like George Costanza, who had to make notes of what to talk about for his weekly call. I'm out of material that will interest her. I can't tell her, "Well, we just got back from another vacation." Not after I've just heard the speech about saving every dime I can because of the formidable, looming recession.

So I think to self, "I'll call her on the way home." But you're not allowed to talk on your cell in Brooklyn, so I wait to get to the highway, and then the drive is so short I think, "Well, I'll just wait til I get home and get settled."

By then, I'm too tired to have any gumption at all about engaging in a conversation of any more depth than, "Did you see Twinkle today? Did the cats play nicely together? What are we doing for dinner? No, I don't want to "do it" right at the moment, but thanks for asking."

By the time I rest up enough to catch a second wind, it's right in the middle of her television shows, and she does look forward to those. Of course she doesn't have Tivo or a VCR, so I don't want to interrupt them. Next thing you know, another day has slipped away sans phone call, and the Catholic Guilt settles in for one more restless night. Ah, tomorrow. There's always tomorrow to right all sorts of wrongs. So tomorrow I shall call, somewhere around my lunch hour. And we will chat and laugh and laugh and I will be returned to Good Granddaughter status. Until next week, at least.

Don't think that my guilt stops there, oh, no, I've got p-l-enty to go around. I feel guilty that I went all the way to the gym (the 5 minutes up the street, all that way) and only worked out for 30 minutes. Granted, the power went out, which cut the evening short, but had I gotten up there earlier I could have really made it count. I've got 8 weeks and counting til vacation, People, and my ass isn't getting any smaller/tighter/fresher on it's own. Well, fresher might not be helped by the gym, but you get my drift. I've been eating pretty fucking healthfully, haven't had a fast-food burger since July - the beginning of July - and have incorporated mucho vegetables and fruits into my daily regime. All I've gotten from the excess fiber is gas and bloating.

So anyway. I booked another trip today, because when all else fails, if there's one thing I know for sure, it's how to book a vacation. It's a Girls Night trip for me, haven't had one of those in eons, and I couldn't be more excited! I managed to get free airfare and hotels for us in Atlantic City on my favorite little Charter. I just called 'em up and asked if we could go for free, and they said, "Sure, pack your bags." It's good to be Mrs. Anderson for gambling trips! So we're doing that August 29th. We need girl bonding time. And Mr. Anderson's happy to get me out of the house for a night, I believe.

Peace. I'm off to find out what other magical things the Internet can do for my penis. Jeezus Christ!! Kenny's computer has been overtaken by some nasty ass virus and it occassionaly just bursts into noises, which it just did and scared the holy fuck out of me!

There's A Spray For That

Two-thirds of the Cleveland Summer are gone, and my tomatoes have just begun to ripen. Is that normal timing? I don't really know, I feel as if we should have been eating homegrown tomato sammiches as early as July, but here we are: August.

Despite my efforts to grow large, lush productive plants by adding Miracle Gro fertilizers and working in new top soil to my planting ground, my tomatoes are repeating the size of last year's harvest, about the size of tennis balls. WTF. They are also a little burnt up, in spite of the heavy rains we've had all summer. Vera pointed out that they are next to the garage and partial obscured by the overhang, which could be misdirecting the water flow. I guess I never looked up to notice. Fuckity Fuck. It's always something. Next year I'm going to try a new area, I guess, see if it reaps better results. I won't even discuss the Big Berta Bell Peppers. Let me just say that there won't be any home grown stuffed green pepper dishes being produced in my kitchen at this rate. Perhaps I need to ask an expert at Home Depot's garden center how I can make my garden grow.

I've decided to take my blogging to the porch, where the cats and I can all enjoy the beautiful weather of a Sunday evening. Caesar is busy eating a dead leaf that is on the floor, which I'm sure he'll throw up later, somewhere on the carpet. I hope around three a.m., there's nothing quite as nice as waking from a sound sleep to that little treat. Widda is watching the porch shenanigans from the safety of the doorway, she'd like to come out and join the foray, but her "Fraidy Cat mentality just won't let her come and roll and play. Kenny said she needs cat therapy. I would be inclined to agree. Girlie is just fine relaxing on the porch, she conks right out for a prime cat nap.

Friday was a busy, busy day, with a long day at the office rolling into patio drinks at Blue Moose with some friends from Toastmasters, and Timmy. I set up the little social hour, and then I had to cut my own get-together short as Kenny made plans for the evening with Pete & Vera. Fun plans, don't get me wrong, but I was therefore double-booked and trying to fit all the fun in. It wasn't easy, but I managed. Two quick drinks on the patio, some inappropriate story-telling, successfully bored Timmy with shop talk, and we hauled ass home where Vera was already waiting. I threw some undies and toothbrushes in a bag and Pete, Vera, Kenny and I headed up for a night in Erie, for some gaming action. Yes, more of that, but it was Pete's request, and we went along for the ride, not wanting to miss out on any type of fun to be had.

We enjoyed a leisurely fun drive home on Saturday, stopping at an off-the-beaten-path restaurant in Leroy, Ohio for pizza and salad. With full bellies and cozy blankets, Vera and I sprawled out in the backseat of the car for a relaxing ride. Vera had her feet on the back of Pete's seat, giving him a face massage with her feet. Kenny would hate that, as he's got a foot aversion to begin with. They don't need to be touching his face - ever! Pete has a hairbrained scheme to sell dirty socks on Ebay for freaks...er, I mean people who are a just a little different....with foot fetishes. Somehow he knows (??) that they'll pay big money for stinky used socks. Huh. Wonder what I could get for crotchy panties, I know the cat sure enjoys rolling around on them.

So far it's been a pretty great weekend, as far as weekend's go. Very relaxing, not doing too much of anything that could be construed as non-fun. I have toyed with washing the car and the bedding, but we'll see. That doesn't fall in the "fun" category. We made some returns - yes, electric cat watering dish was returned, it didn't last long at all - and I've got some recent purchases to get squared away. Our air purifiers showed up, I love it in the bedroom, the air smells like fresh rain in there. Need to get the one set up for the living room today. Almost too lazy to do that, and all that is required is to take it out of the box and plug it in. Some days are just that lazy.

My new Olympus camera has been the suspected challenge to figure out. I've been reading the manual, it does a lot of fancy tricks, but couldn't use it until today, I didn't have a memory card. Picked on up for $70 from Best Buy this afternoon. I may head down to the towpath and take some nature shots, just to play around and test it out. The really bad-quality photos I've posted today were from my phone, not my new fancy camera.

Irony

I believe I forgot to mention from our last Vegas excursion that we saw Pete Rose while we were there. Paid good money for an autograph. Kinda ironic seeing him in the gambling mecca of the world, as that was his downfall from baseball grace. Anyway, it was still rather exciting to shake hands with a legend.

It's about that time where I need to sit down and figure up some goals for August. July kinda snuck by me, not a lot "new" learnings went on, but I gave myself a pass since I got the promotion at work. That has been new enough. Just getting settled in the new work, haven't been hit with it too hard as of yet, but I'm excited. As the feminine deodorant spray ads tell us, it's good to stay fresh.

Peace, and make the most of the last official month of summer in the city. Get out there and do stuff! I have a lot of unexplored festivals on my list. I plan on checking them out this month.