Addendum.

Rob would like me to expound further on the comment in the previous post regarding his inability to read Cornplanters Chronicles. He would like my Faithful Reader to truly understand his "voracious reading habits" to fully communicate this painfully ill-written book. So here it is:

Perhaps you could insert something like this: “Not even Rob Murdoch could read it. And you should know that when Rob Murdoch eats Cheerios, he reads the entire box word for word, including ingredients and calories and the percentages with or without lowfat milk and he does this EVERY SINGLE TIME HE EATS A BOWL. That’s how bad this book is that he could’t even make it past page ten.”

Empty Nester

"You have a lot of stuff," Rita stated as she surveyed the eight boxes lying about my office as I prepare to switch cubicles Friday morning. With the restructure everyone is shifting around, and I am moving about five steps from my current office. I'm taking this opportunity as a chance to weed out a bunch of shit that's been following me around for, oh, say the last fifteen years or so. Some of it had a place on a shelf, but the majority of it was shoved in a drawer for the last three or four jobs. So I'm cleaning it out, and still had eight boxes of stuff to move after the weeding. Now, five are work-related, but that doesn't detract from the fact that I have three full boxes of personal shit.

So I gave Rita and Kelly full reign to go all Clean House on my ass. They made me dump a bunch of shit I'd found impossible to part with. Now, a week ago when I first started clearing things out I designated a table in the atrium as a "Free Stuff" table. One man's trash, another man's treasure and all that. It's been a good time watching some of this stuff get snapped up, and others in my area have followed suit. We were setting really absurd things out there, some of it a test to see just what people will really take if it's marked free. Some of the more interesting things have included:

• A can of Slimfast
• A yellow smiley-faced bean bag chair with an "X" of duct tape covering a hole (that was donated from Lauren's cube, not mine!)
• The WORST BOOK EVER, Cornplanters Chronicle - a book so bad that even Rob Murdoch couldn't read it. This was a pity-purchase I made one day while walking in the mall, the author was outside the bookstore selling signed copies and he had zero interest, so I bought a book. Now someone else gets to enjoy it, perhaps it will be gifted to some poor unsuspecting fool for Christmas.
• A Fat Fish Blue logo-ed hurricane glass. I found out today no one actually took that, Rita got sick of seeing it and threw it in the trash, she said it was dragging the table down.

So today, after my co-workers Clean Housed me, these items that I found it difficult to part with are now up for grabs:

I know, it's Treasure Overload. Items include: a paper flower someone made at least ten years ago, some stinky candles, a clock radio (it does work, but what the fuck do I need it for, I have an Ipod and reception is sketchy anyway), a variety of wooden bric-a-brack with a country flavor, a bird house/chicken coop caged thing of some sort (I have no idea), a tray and a Tupperware container of pennies that were just junking up my office space.

Rita commented, "If I were guessing the profile of the person who owned this table of stuff, I would say 62 year old female, 4 kids and 10 cats." Sadly, true. I'm a hotmess of collectibles. Rita did let me keep my Elvis knick-knacks, she said that while they're a little odd, they are a more truer reflection of me than the chicken coop wire birdhouse thing and the doilies. I'll be interested to see tomorrow how much of this shit is still sitting there. Oh, yeah, there was also a stained "doily" which I hesitated to put out there. Kelly informed me it will be the coup de gras of the free table if anyone takes that thing.

Kelly and Rita told me they were proud of me for letting go, and then Kelly gave me a Niecy Nash grunt of approval.

The End.

Twinkled

Everything of importance is in place for the holiday. Twink & Tree: Check.

To think, I was bemoaning the fact that I was too tired/too busy to make the effort to put up the tree. I realized Monday that Christmas is in fact NEXT WEEK (where have I been?? Oh, yeah - vacationing!), and it was time to git 'er done. Wow, that's hillbilly. But anyway, after clomping around and bitching about the effort involved, I realized it's a pre-lit tree, and in fact only needed to be put on the table and fluffed out a little. Voila, it's Christmas. I'm glad to know that I am in fact not that lazy - yet. I can still clear the table and plug the tree in. Twink was excited, as he is every year, and got right into the holly jolly spirit.

My careful planning for the holidays have once again ensured that Kenny's present won't be ready in time for The Day. Last year he got his custom-made jacket sometime in February. I have good intentions, but don't plan them far enough in advance to be effective. I have two ancillary gifts for him to open on The Day, and then he'll get to celebrate all over again once his big gift is ready. I seriously can't believe the world doesn't revolve around me and my needs. Don't they know who I am?!

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While waiting for the bedding to wash and dry this evening I took hair color matters into my own hands and am sad to say I'm not thrilled with the results. I have an appointment for tomorrow, but I Sophied-Up a little and didn't want to spend $120 right before the holidays for no haircut, no highlights, just some base color only. I can touch that right up myself for $11, in the comfort of my own home no less. Well, maybe next time I'll pay better attention to the box. It was for persons with very dark hair who want to lighten it up, and since my hair was already many shades lighter than the hair the product is intended for, it had some weird results. Not horrible, and I'm not even sure it's $100 worse, but not my ideal shade for this month. Luckily, I switch it up so much that in 4 to 6 short weeks I can try something else. Or before New Orleans. Whichever mood strikes me. Ah, hair. It's a love/hate affair.

Pants On Fire Part I

Seems I've become a bit of a liar. I wish I could deny it, but the facts stand in the way. I lie about the quantity of cats in the house. Depending upon who's asking, I lie about my name. The lies are off my tongue before I can stop 'em.

Episode 1:

AT&T Guy came to the house over the summer to fix our DSL. He's in our house. Two cats, Twink and Girlie, came sniffing around.
AT&T Guy asks, "How many cats do you have?"
I respond, "Two." Timmy got whiplash doing a double-take at the blatentness of the lie. I got the shoulder shrug and the mouthed "What the Fuck??" from him over that.

I had to come clean on that lie when the job took far, far longer than anticipated. AT&T Guy was in the house so long (over 2 hours, I believe) that the other cats got brave and started peeking out from around the corner. One by one they began to emerge from the deep recesses of the back bedroom from which they can be safe from Stranger Danger, and I knew the jig was up.

In a panic I blurted, "I LIED! I have FIVE cats, not TWO!" There was really no use lying, four cats were flanking his feet by that point.
Lesson Learned: Don't lie about the number of pets you have to someone who is spending time IN YOUR HOUSE.

Episode 2:

Wal*Mart Checker Dude inquired, "Do you have a lot of cats, or do they just poop a lot?" when I was stocking up on pet supplies last week.

"Four. Just four cats. Yes, they poop a lot." I denied one of the cats. But who is HE to get all into my cat ownership bidniz??

The conversation didn't end there. Woman In Line Behind Me said, "My neighbor, she's ka-razy! She has EIGHT CATS!" To which they guffawed and clucked about the absurdity of anyone having that many cats.

Lesson Learned: Sometimes it's okay to shave the truth. Just make sure they're not spending quality time in your home.

Kenny finds it absurd that I lie about the number of cats we have. But PEOPLE JUDGE. It's easier to lie sometimes than it is to be judged by strangers. Look at that poor unnamed woman with eight cats who was mocked and ridiculed by strangers in a Wal*Mart check out line. Does it get any worse than being judged by that crowd?? Jeez. I don't need that added pressure to my life.

Just today I was IMing with a co-worker who found out I have five cats, and she typed back, "You have FIVE cats??!!". Yes, yes I do. Now that the cat's out of the bag, and it's too late to lie.

Rubbed One Out

Lupe* Screwed Us. There's reason to believe that she stole my jar of 16 spice poultry rub which was purchased from Bobby Flay's Mesa Grill in Las Vegas. That, or ghosts follow me with the sole intent to play little jokes.

All I know for a fact is: 1/ I purchased two jars of 16 spice rub and one cookbook after dining at Mesa Grill in Las Vegas on Saturday. 2/ There were two jars in the bag when I left it on the table in my hotel room. 3/ There was one jar of 16 spice poultry rub and one cookbook in the bag when I packed to go home on Sunday. 4/ Lupe Screwed Us.

I saw her, said hello, and left her a tip on Saturday, with the intent to leave her more on Sunday. Plans changed after I realized Lupe Screwed Us. Kenny's not convinced she did, but I know what I know. Two jars of rub became one overnight, and only one other person was in the room (well, not counting the hookers....).

We didn't complain to the front desk, because I don't really want Lupe to have her job in question over a $10.76 jar of seasoning, but really. What's the point of that. I would think that we just misplaced it or something (it's been known to happen with me, I don't deny it!), but we weren't there long enough for anything to get misplaced. And I only took it out of the bag once, to try to read the ingredients. My old eyes, however, resist reading the fine print anymore. Guess they figure they've worked hard enough and just aren't straining themselves anymore.

So Lupe Screwed Us, but I think $10 was worth the laugh we had at the thought of our poultry rub getting stolen. Of all things lying about the room, for Chrissake. Better the rub than the Rolex. I wish Lupe and her family very flavorful meat this holiday season.

*Lupe: see Seinfeld Chambermaid episode

Eavesdroppings.

Overheard heading into the restroom at the movie theater:

50ish Woman to 50ish Man: "Do you have to use the bathroom?"
50ish Man: "No, I'm all set."
50ish Woman: "Are you sure?"

At what point do women think men are too stupid to even know if they have to take a piss or not? We're a bitchy lot to live with.

Not That There's Anything Wrong With That

Here I am, photographing exceedingly SHORT Friday night at our Scrooge's Night Out event. I had been explaining to Santa just how naughty I've been all year.

Lisa with her Dance Ticket:

Two of those Blue Rockets and we were doin' our thang out there on the dance floor. I thrilled the crowds with my Elaine-inspired dance moves. Kenny and Tim were impressed that I would actually do that in public - without the requisite dance tickets (5 dirty martini's) I usually require!

The night had many different elements of Seinfeld, here I am ensconced in my velvet dress. Yep, George's Dream, livin' out loud right here in Cleveland.

Note To Self: Two Fiber One bars the night of a party is a bad decision. I had pretty bad...er.....well, let's just say Kenny didn't sit close to me for long.

THIS GIRL had the best outfit of the evening:

I am gonna get me a Southern Belle gown and just keep it on hand for future Christmas party events. Right down to the little lace gloves and the jauntily-cocked hat. Who doesn't love a jaunty cock.