Monday, August 30, 2004

Stupid is as Stupid Does

As usual, current events have preempted the post I was going to write tonight. After watching the Olympics until my eye-balls glazed over for two weeks straight, I was a bit spent by the time the marathon was on yesterday. Seriously my friends, I felt like I had run the damned race myself. Make fun if you must, but getting off the sofa every now and then to pop another bag of popcorn is hard work. Imagine my surprise when some yahoo runs out, grabs the front-runner and pushes him off the course into the crowd. What the heck was that?

This incident was funny for so many reasons. First I swear I actually heard a commentator speculate about whether it was a terrorist or not. Huh? Of all the things terrorists might plan to pull during the Olympics, I don't think that was it. The next guess was a protester. Exactly what was he protesting? What has Brazil ever done to anyone (that was a rhetorical question, OK)? And finally, I thought it was rather interesting that all of the video footage I saw cut off as soon as the runner & attacker hit the crowd. I can only imagine that the networks cut out the part where the crowd got their hands on the attacker and beat the living crap out of him.

This story got even funnier today when I saw more information about this guy on the news. Apparently he has a "history of disrupting sporting events." Huh? He has a "history?" His mother must be so proud. They proceeded to show this guy walking out onto the pit road of a Formula One race in England. The cars coming in at like 100 miles an hour were dodging him. Here's a clue for anyone hosting a major sporting event: post a picture of this guy at every entrance and DON'T let him in.

The guy got a fine of like $3,600 and a year's probation. I'm glad they didn't throw him in jail. Social Darwinism will eventually solve this problem. He wasn't hit by a race car. He escaped a probable near fatal beating in Greece. Eventually his luck is going to run out. Perhaps he's planning something really big for his next trick. I say give him free tickets to a women's softball tourney or something.

Book Club

FYI - for anyone who's interested:

The Roundtable Confessional

A few of us have gotten together to start an on-line book club using a blog as the interface. You can find it at The plan is to choose a book a month, then discuss the book on the blog. If you want to be a member, leave me a comment (or email me with your email address) and we'll get you set up.

PS - Back to my usual babbling with a real post later. Sorry!

Friday, August 27, 2004

I'm in the Wrong Business

What am I doing studying history? I have known that the money is elsewhere, and I have been OK with that. I love history. I hope to teach it on the college level when I grow up. I was well aware that I left the industry where the money is. After many years (and lots of buckaroos I might add) I left IT. I wasn't happy. It wasn't fulfilling. Whatever. Truth be known, I knew it was time to follow my passion and not the almighty dollar when I woke up one morning and ran out of excuses to call in. Maybe you've been there? It hits you in those groggy pre-dawn hours in which no human arises voluntarily. They run through your mind, all those excuses. Let's see. Can't say a relative passed away because no one has 12 grandmothers. Can't plead grave illness because you forgot to cough and moan appropriately the day before. 24 hour bug? Naaa...used that last month. Car broken down? Nope. They all saw the new one in the parking lot. It's the day you can't think of a plausible reason to beg off that you realize that you are probably miserable in the troth you have pledged and it's time for a change.

Lest you think I am a total slug, I do need to point out a couple of things. I feel this need because I too, hated the slugs who called in for any reason and caused me more work. I was not one of those. I not only carried my weight, but the weight of several others. With my last company I suffered for 4 years. I was the only Senior Specialist in my department. Because of the insane turn-over in my group and the 6 to 9 month period required to fully train someone in my department, I carried the load of 3 people (at least) at any given time. I handled all the QC in my group, that my boss was supposed to handle but didn't, and was a required element for our group to release a project. I was assigned all the VIP (read that PIA for pain in the ass) clients. And I got stellar evals and lots of customer "attaboys" for my trouble. Management (whom I hated) loved me. My attitude wasn't even that bad despite being told by my boss that I was "at the top of the payscale and my raises from now on wouldn't be as much as they had been." Yeah. I guess that's when I knew it was the beginning of the end. What kind of motivation is that?!? And also, please don't think I really lied when I called in. There were lots of times that I called in "dead." True story. We were deadline based, so go back to the part where I said I carried the load of 3 or more people. When I was at the end of my rope I'd call in a mental health day. I'd tell my boss "I'm calling in dead. See you tomorrow," and they were cool with that. I was good at it, but I hated it, I hated my company and I started to think about what I wanted to be when I grew up. Ahh, history.

Lest you think I now live completely off C., I have my little home-based business because we have bills to pay. I enjoy it. I make good money at it. That's not the point. Today I realized that the money isn't where I thought it was all along. It's not in IT. It's not in investments or the law. Apparently the money is in textbook sales. Who knew?

For my 3 final classes this semester I purchased 12 books today. All but 1 are softcover, all but 2 are used. It cost me $311. Hello?!? They're not big books. They're not even heavy books. But they ARE three hundred dollars worth of books. And that, my friends, is my epiphany. The big money is in used textbook sales. I speak from experience. Just think: Student A (no doubt a freshman) purchases a book brand new for $134. He opens it a grand total of four times, not even breaking the binding. He sells his book back to the university bookstore for $3. They, in turn, sell it to some unsuspecting student next semester as a used book for $92. The bookstore has now made $223 off ONE book in a year!!! I am not a math major, but even my pea brain can deduce that I am in the wrong business.

Happy Fall,


Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Into the Bermuda Triangle

I got an IM from a friend of mine who arrived in Cyprus today after a trip to Ghana. A week or two in Cyprus, then she’s off to Turkey and finally home to the US on Sept. 15th. It’s a business trip. The bad news is that her luggage, along with the luggage of several other American passengers, was “lost.” Actually, it wasn’t really lost. It was stolen off the tarmac in Ghana. The airline won’t reimburse any of the victims for their loss because in their minds they did their job by “delivering” it. Apparently, once it hits the tarmac the airport becomes liable. In turn, the airport has a “no reimbursement” policy. Note to self: never fly South African Airlines into Ghana. This snafu comes on the heels of another baggage mix up this week. This one is actually rather comical.

As if being a hockey fan isn’t traumatic enough right now, an airline temporarily “lost” the Stanley Cup. The Stanley Friggin Cup!!! Now hockey purists might have imagined this trauma was caused by an American airline. After all, the Cup was won this year by an American team from Florida of all places. But no, this incident occurred on Canadian soil and was caused by Air Canada. The Cup was en route to Ft. St. John, B.C. The keeper of the cup boarded a flight in Vancouver thinking it had been loaded safely in the baggage compartment, which it had been originally. Apparently some brain surgeon at Air Canada decided to offload the “excess baggage” due to its weight. It only weighs 35 lbs., far less than the bag I packed for my last business trip! Unfortunately, no one thought to mention that the Cup was taken off the plane to Walter Neubrand, the official Cup keeper. Yes, Lord Stanley’s Cup has its own escort. Imagine his surprise upon landing and standing in the baggage claim area only to watch the belt go round and round – no Cup, no special Cup carrier. After a search of the plane and several frantic phone calls by Air Canada employees, the Cup was located in a baggage area in Vancouver, 750 miles from its destination.

Now if you are not a hockey fan you may miss the incredible irony in this whole true story. I’ll explain. If you ARE a hockey fan, feel free to skip this part. Hockey is the unofficial national sport of Canada. I believe the official sport is still curling, a phenomenon I cannot even begin to explain. The Stanley Cup is the Holy Grail of hockey, like the Super Bowl trophy is to football. But it means more…so much more, especially to Canadians. You see the Cup has a history, a long history that is sacred to the sport. In fact, a Canadian was quoted for the article I read saying, “It’s probably the most important non-religious artifact in Canada.”

So you can see how incredible this story is. I ask you, especially you fans (though I’m not sure there are any of you reading this): how the heck did this happen? I would have thought that the Cup would travel better than I do. Snuggled in its own seat in first class for instance. One would also think that a Canadian airline (and it has been reported that they actually were aware of their cargo) would be a bit more careful when handling this “artifact.” And of course, unless you follow hockey you are probably wondering why those of us who do find this thing so incredulous.

My friends, Sept. 15th is looming on the horizon and there is still no CBA. And now they have lost the Cup, however briefly. What is happening to our sport? We have to cling to whatever we can get at this point. I ask to you join me in raising a Molson and asking the hockey gods to smile upon us. If they choose not to, it’s going to be a long winter.

Monday, August 23, 2004

The Flame Room

Back in the day before the Internet was readily available to the herd, the only thing out there were Bulletin Board Systems (BBSs). The BBS concept was quite popular in our area. A few were multi-user that had several roll-over lines that you could dial in on. Yeah, dial up. Does anyone remember 2400 baud modems? Remember how excited you were when you finally got a 14.4?

The draw of a single line BBS were the message boards. They were the predecessors of our current message boards, so you can imagine how they worked. People would dial in, post messages, then reply. A dialog was created. Multi-line BBSs were cool though because you had a lot more options: chat rooms, email, multi-player games. This was in a time when everything was text based. But still very popular on the multi-line BBSs were the message boards. My favorite BBS had a zillion message boards, all organized into categories. You could discuss anything there. Need a recipe? Post and ask for one. Want to discuss politics, world affairs...anything and the opportunity was there. One of my favorite haunts was The Flame Room. You see the other boards were all moderated and no personal attacks and no cussing was allowed (unless it was in the adult area). In The Flame Room, however, no holds were barred. There was even a disclaimer when you entered warning that it could get ugly and was not for the thin-skinned or faint of heart. As you can imagine, things could get really nasty because afterall, people were flaming at eachother. But every once in a while there were some fascinating serious discussions. Of course topics like abortion and religion were guaranteed hot buttons. But there were other things I enjoyed. Political discussions, questions of ethics. I loved them all.

The reason that I bring all of this up is because there was a kid I used to know from those days who blogs now and I read him regularly. I say kid though he's now a grown man, but in my mind he will always be a kid because that's what he was when I knew him - 16, 17, 18, that age range. That's not derogatory at all, because this kid was/is brilliant. He's brilliant about a lot of things. Computers, of course. Many of the kids online in those days were. But this kid was different. He knew EVERYTHING about many different kinds of machines. If you had a technical problem, he was the one to go to. But he also had amazing opinions about stuff that kids his age weren't concerned with - politics, etc. He was a master of debate. And the best thing was that even if you disagreed vehemently with him in The Flame Room, he was still cool in real life AND in other areas of the BBS, other discussions. While I don't know for sure if he held a grudge, he never let it show in his writing. That's amazing control, especially when you factor in his age at the time.

There was one thing I learned from him that I still remember to this day. When you are in a discussion/debate with someone, if you can get them so flustered and off their argument that they resort to cussing you out, you win by default. It's not worth the trouble even replying anymore. Don't get me wrong; he could flame and cuss with the best of them. In fact, he could reduce you to tears if he wanted to, but I think that took all the fun out of it for him and he reserved those gems for the truly stupid. There was a discussion on his blog that brought back those old school days this past week. He didn't start it really. He just posted about something that was on his mind. I commented. Then this young girl comes in. I can only assume she's young based on her many previous comments on his posts, no matter how serious or flippant, that always denigrated into sexual innuendo. I probably could have enjoyed an intelligent discussion with her except for a couple of things. The first was that I asked a simple question and she refused to answer. When I finally pointed out that she refused to answer, she came back with something completely inane and unreasonable. That's not what I was aiming for. I was honestly interested in her suggestions. I decided tonight not to waste time with her anymore when she called me a stupid bitch. A bitch I may be, stupid I am not. And actually, when I was going back over the discussion prior to posting this I noticed she called me a fucking cunt previously, though I had missed that the first time through. My bad.

I'll write a few excerpts here. You probably don't agree with my line of thinking, but I don't think that's the point of my post. In a nutshell, he posted about women in Islamic countries that have been raped and then persecuted/prosecuted if they tried to present their side of the story. The writer questioned why we can't go over and do something about it. An excerpt of comments as follows:

Her: there's no oil there. at least i dont think so. last i heard there was some actionnear the caspian sea so maybe iran will be next

Me: You know, the oil argument always gets me. What exactly is so wrong with protecting the interests of the US? What is wrong with making sure the American people have access to petroleum? The left doesn't want us to drill on our own land (Alaska anyone?) and yet everyone bitches when gas prices go sky high. You can't have it both ways. It always amazes me.

Her: good argument. maybe the USA should invade canada next if we don't give you all the fucking oil you need. after all, youre protecting your interests!

The writer of the blog started a new post about oil. Comments as follows:
Me: (Highly edited because it was redundant)Just what is so wrong with protecting the interests of the US? It's not just the military that uses petroleum based products. Why exactly is it so bad for our leaders to do everything they can to preserve our wayof life? I like my gas as cheap as possible. I like safe tires on the car my family rides in. I like my cheap plastic products that make my life so convenient. And yes, I like having a strong military.

Her: Im sure then China would be justified in invading USA in order to "protect its way of life" your reasoning is pretty flawed

Me: No, actually yours is. Luckily our military is a strong enough deterrent for China not to invade.The American government would do everything in it's power to prevent that from happening. Would that be wrong? What do you think we should do *Name*? Just go without petroleum to keep the left happy? What are the alternatives?

Her: I dont see what that has to do with FORGOING OIL COMPLETELY.You really are a stupid cunt you know that.

Her again: the point is that "protecting our interests" is pretty subjective and most nations can justify anything to "protect their interests" and just cuz you think its for freedom and your way of life the rest of the world might not think so. Heck most Germans thought lebensraum was great. Go Germany!

A new post was started, but the circle continued:

Her: Hitler had the right idea when he took over half of Europe to "protect Germany's interests"

Me: You're talking apples and oranges *Name*. While Hitler began his rule with Germany's best interests at heart, somewhere along the way some synapse in his brain snapped and he went for global domination and genocide. Not the same thing. So I ask you again. What is your solution? Forgo oil and all that it provides us? Does the US policy really equate in your mind to Nazi Germany?

Her: heh. forgo oil. I dont think thats the issue. I think you're happy about getting CHEAP Oil and living a cushy life at everyoen elses's expense. No wonder the rest of the world hates the USA.

Me: You'd be happier paying $7-10 for a gallon of gas?I noticed you didn't answer my question either.

Her: b/c the question was retarded. yes give up oil complately and go back to horse drawn carriages THAT is what I want.

It went on from there with her calling me "bitch," though that didn't offend me. Reading back through this I imagine that this girl is from another country (I'm guessing maybe Canada from her previous comment). I would have really liked to have had an intelligent discussion with her. I wonder if she realizes that resorting to name calling took away from the point she was trying to make. And no, I am not going to post a link to all this. The blog writer has gone on to other posts. The point of my post tonight is not the "war for oil" question at all. If you want to debate that, we'll start another post somewhere. My point is something I have been trying to teach my kids. When you resort to cursing and name calling, your argument loses all it's merit. She lost me at "fucking cunt."


Editor's Note: I edited my comments above for spelling errors, because well...I can. The comments above are not all inclusive. I left some out, such as comments of others and a couple that didn't really have anything to do with this subject. But hey, it's my blog, so sue me.

Friday, August 20, 2004

7 Days Down

I've you've been reading, you know that I am addicted to the Olympics. It hasn't always been this way. In fact, when I was younger I resented the preempting of my regularly scheduled re-runs. Oh sure, I have witnessed my fair share of Olympic history in my day. I saw the Miracle on Ice in 1980 and remember it clearly. Of course I only watched the last period, but I remember the win. I even remember Mark Spitz winning his final record gold. Bruce Jenner? Saw it. Nadia? Caught that one. As the years go by, however, I have gotten more and more spell bound by the whole thing. The last several Olympic Games have found me glued to the television.

As I said, when I was younger my viewing tastes were rather narrow. I leaned toward the more popular events like figure skating and gymnastics. Now I'm not so choosy. I'll watch anything. Cycling, volleyball, swimming, diving and on and on. In the winter I loved snowboarding. Curling? Well, I still don't get it (my apologies to my Canadian friends, but honestly how many of them get it either?) but I watch it if there's coverage. SO with all that said, here are some of my observations after 7 days of Olympic coverage:

1 -Event commentators are either morons or brutal. What really made this stick out in my mind were the interviews after the US "women" won silver in the gymnastics team competition. Women in quotes because after all, most of these athletes are practically children. Prime examples of the brutality go something like: "You all were in the lead through most of the competition, but too many mistakes on simple skills cost you in the end. How do you feel?" and "Kari you were fantastic in the prelims but your performance in the finals wasn't up to par. How do you feel about that?" Well I don't know Madam Commentator, how the hell do you think they feel? They'll be reliving those little mistakes for years.

2 - Gold medal winners that attempt to mouth the words of the national anthem in the medal ceremony yet have no clue what those words actually are deserve a beatdown with an American flag and it's long pole. If you don't know the words, don't attempt to sing it. The world is watching.

3 - Svetlana the Russian shotputter is scary. So are her teammates.

4- I usually hate the media as a general rule. I hate the sports media even more for starting all that "Spitz hype" in relation to Michael Phelps. What Spitz did was phenomenal. If they hadn't put so much pressure on Phelps (a 19 year old kid, I might add), maybe he would have all those golden disks to call his own. A pox on them as well for being disappointed in him. He's had a phenomenal games and is still going. Swim Mikey swim! To hell with the media.

5 - Speaking of Phelps, what a neat kid. I do like him and am pulling for him. But the Thorpedo of Australia wears a size 17 (SEVENTEEN!) shoe. Ladies, are you with me?

6 - The American male gymnast in the individual all-around that wasn't Paul Hamm had the support of his wife in the stands. He has a wife that's not named Bob or Joe? Who knew?

7 - Synchronized Diving? OK, well I suppose there's more of a point there than in synchronized swimming. And since many of the competitors also compete individually in the more traditional diving events I guess I'm cool with it.

8 - I love beach volleyball. I try not to because I am an Olympic purist and tend to look down on all new and semi-new sports, but I really like this one. Of course I love volleyball in general. Speaking of which - what the heck is UP with the US women's team?? The Dominican Republic??!?!? HELLO? They're either really hot or really not. Stupid plays are killing them. It's like they are bi-polar or schizophrenic or something. They get a groove going and then blow it. I hope they know they are killing me. It's a must win against Cuba on Sunday or they're out. Cuba is the defending two-time Olympic championship team. *IF* by some grace of God the US earns a medal in these games, they definitely will have done it the hard way.

9 - Trampoline?!?

10 - Anyone know how the US basketball team is doing? I've found it hard to care.

Enjoy the rest of the games guys! The dope-a-thon...uh I mean track and field is in the spotlight this next week.

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

They Were Going to End Up In Therapy Anyway

My kids are too old to fool. They grow up so fast. The Little One loves Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cereal. To be more technically correct, she loves any cereal with a month's supply of sugar in every bowl. The other day I got all excited in the grocery store when I saw a box of CTC that proclaimed it contained 75% LESS Sugar! Why in the name of all that is Holy would they print that on the box in big huge letters?!? You guessed it. She won't eat it. I tried it and the stupid stuff tastes just like the original. She'd have never known if the sadistic company hadn't plastered the lack of sugar all over the box. If it was fine print meant for a parent's eyes only, you can bet she'd have eaten the whole box in 2 days like usual and never been the wiser.

There was a time when they bought everything I said. When they were little I convinced them that raisins were candy and they ate them by the handful. I couldn't keep the withered little grapes in the house. Then they went to daycare and discovered that the “other candy” tasted better and the raisins have become a solid mass in the box ever since. Don't let me get into why we still have that last box and have moved with it twice. That's a topic for another post. They also thought those little rice cakes were cookies. Fat chance of keeping up with that charade either. Damned daycare. It was sort of like the Garden of Eden after that. One bite of the apple and they were off to the land of knowledge fueled by a major sugar buzz.

The longest deception concerned dark chocolate. I LOVE dark chocolate, and I can get especially passionate about Dove dark chocolate. I used to hide it from them in the freezer. When they were really little it worked well because they couldn't reach the freezer and thus my stash went undetected. The day finally came when #1 Son could reach and, of course, he innocently asked me what was in the package with his little sister standing next to him batting her eyelashes and looking up at me expectantly. I did what any self respecting dark chocoholic good mother would do. I snatched the bag out of their chubby hands and snapped “Don't touch that! You’re allergic!” That one actually worked for a couple of years believe it or not. Finally one day I was snatching a bag back from them accompanied with the usual allergic speech; how they’d get red blotches, blow up like balloons and their throats would close up, etc. Lots of drama in that speech. #1 Son looked at me sagely and said “Mom, you know we're not allergic. You just don't want us to eat it.”


Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Smoke 'Em if You've Got 'Em

I am the grand champion of quitting smoking. I have given up the habit more times than I can count. The problem is that I eventually start again. The excuses are many: stress, a little “slip” while drinking, relaxation, concentration. You name it, I’ve probably used it. And yes, before I go further I know how bad it is for me, how expensive it is, how it sets a bad example for my kids, etc. etc. ad nauseum. You cannot convince me that I need to quit. I already know that I do.

What prompted me to bring this up is the fact that my state is raising cigarette taxes…AGAIN. Bastages. Where does all that money go anyway? The thing is, I enjoy smoking. I really do, though I can’t explain it. Oral fixation maybe? And we’re in the tobacco belt. I can’t imagine what the prices are in places like New York or California. I began smoking rather late in life. When my peers were experimenting with hard-core drugs in college, I was learning to smoke. It started out innocently enough. I would puff on one (I swear, I didn’t inhale!) while drinking. Eventually I found myself wanting one when I was sober. It snowballed from there.

Speaking of not inhaling. I hated Clinton for too many reasons to list here. The worst though had nothing to do with his personality. It was the “President’s Message on Smoking.” I remember it like it was yesterday. Here’s how I became aware that Clinton weighed in on the subject of my addiction:
#1 Son (bounding home from school one day): Hey Mom, you’re going to die.
Me: We’re all going to die someday.
#1 Son: Yeah but you’re going to die soon, the President says so.
Me: He does? How would he know? I wasn’t involved in Whitewater.
#1 Son: Because you smoke. We saw the President’s Message on Smoking today.
Me: Oh yeah? Well, he inhaled! Humph.

C. is a typical man who can quit at the drop of a hat, sort of. He just stops. No physical withdrawal. No crankiness. He just stops. Of course, living with me is hampering his ability to stay smoke-free. I do not smoke in the house. I smoke outside in all kinds of weather. C. & I have found that sometimes stepping out of the madness that is this house affords us some quality time and we enjoy the discussions. Sometimes the temptation to join me is too much.

Me: Are you going to wrap that up to take to lunch tomorrow? (pointing to the leftovers from dinner as I’m walking out the door)
Him: No.
Me: Well what are you going to do for lunch?
Him: I’m going to use the $5 from the lottery tickets I cashed in today. (as he grabs a smoke from my pack)
Me: Why don’t you use that $5 to buy yourself some smokes so you can stay out of mine?
Him: And just what are you using for cigarette money? My paycheck, so AH HA.
Me: I steal from the kids, so AAHH HHAAA.

Karma is a funny thing. His lighter died before he could light the pilfered smoke. Mine worked just fine. So guess who got the last AH HA? He went on to tell me that he isn’t going to buy cigarettes during the week because that would mean he has started smoking again. Well guess what buddy?!

I purchased a book a while back called “How to Stop Smoking Without Gaining Weight.” It’s been sitting on the counter by the back door for a couple of months now. I keep my cigarettes and lighter on top of it.

Monday, August 16, 2004

Hell is Paved with Pine Tags

The sun finally came out late this afternoon. The Prince, Princess and myself stood there blinking in curiosity for a couple of minutes, like cave dwellers returning to the world above ground, before we recognized what it was. It's been that long since we've seen it. We had rain everyday last week culminating in a visit from Charley (luckily a tropical storm by the time it got here). In fact, we've had record rain this summer. So much for global warming.

The funny thing about storms is that they tend to thrash the Godforsaken pine trees that are abundant in our neighborhood. The thrashing showers the ground with pine tags. The pine tags then race for the lowest elevation which just happens to be the storm drain directly in front of my house. Back when the city planners designed this system, they weren't counting on 3 feet of rain and 672 pounds of pine tags. You guessed it, the drain backed up this weekend thus forming "Lake Cattiva." The lake covered not only the street, but the lowest part of my yard and the four or five yards across and beside me. This water of course picks up more pine tags, only to rush headlong for the drain. It is a vicious cycle my friends.

You might wonder what in hell possessed C. and I to attempt to clean out the storm drain this evening, especially when all we planned to do was cut the lawn. The answer is $2,500. Twenty-five hundred big ones. That's the fine the city has imposed if they have to come out and clean out a drain filled with lawn debris. Apparently our city has had more than our fair share of flash flooding. Streets that normally don't flood, such as those in our neighborhood, are turning into canals. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a moron who blows grass cuttings and lawn debris down the drain. We bag our grass and leaves, but I wasn't taking any chances especially with a new roof in my future. My bank account can't handle a $2,500 donation to the city.

What put the fear of God into me today was seeing a city truck parked in front of my house. Luckily, they were just here west nile hunting - it was the health department. Did I mention the mosquito problem? We have one of those, too. It's our state bird. Anyway, I was relieved to find out the truck wasn't here to ticket us. I should have known they weren't there to clean out the gutter with the little bug net and water jars they were carrying, but logic escapes me when I'm panicking.

So, C. & I set out to clean out the storm drain. It actually started with me attempting to rake the pine tags out of the opening. Simple enough, except that it was solid. Yes, solid with pine tags. C. Pried the cover loose and we spent the next two hours digging 672 pounds of pine tags from the drain. That's about 3 1/2 feet down. The lower we got the blacker with decomposition these things got. Did I mention how bad decomposing pine tags smell? It was as if we had opened the gate to the bowels of hell. Screw it, next time I'm calling the city. And I dare them to fine me.

Sunday, August 15, 2004

The Un-Patriot

I'm pressed for time today, but felt the need to say that I am feeling very un-patriotic. Of course I have gorged myself on the Olympics all weekend. Man, I LOVE this stuff! The swimming has been awesome and the volleyball yesterday had me screaming at the television. I'm weird like that, especially when it comes to sports.

Of course, I've been pulling for team USA in all events (though I do really like Ian Thorpe), except today. Right now the US basketball team is getting spanked by Puerto Rico. They're down 20 points after the half. I'm getting this odd sense of satisfaction in that. I can't stand USA basketball and perhaps that's an extension of my dislike of professional (NBA) basketball in general. They're a bunch of pampered thugs with huge endorsement contracts. Perhaps it's because the stupid sport preempts my beloved hockey every year? I don't know.

The cocky bastages thought the Olympics was a joke. They acted like it was a cake walk and they were going to steam roll through everyone. HA! They've lost once already I believe and are about to cake walk themselves right out of medal contention. I'm just really enjoying watching Iverson and Co. get schooled. It just shows that you can't throw a bunch of egotistical "stars" together and expect them to play like a team. It *IS* a team sport, after all. I say bring back the amateurs and let the team consist of college ball players. They're a lot more exciting to watch anyway.

Friday, August 13, 2004

Ba Baa Ba Ba Ba Baaaah

The Olympics have officially opened! Woo Hoo! I LOVE the Olympics. Summer, winter it makes no difference to me. For the next two weeks or so, I will be virtually glued to my television. I'm fascinated. The competition, the struggles, the personal stories, the thrill of victory and agony of defeat - I adore it all. And hey, the Olympics are not just entertaining they're educational as well. Where else would I have learned all about silly "sports" like curling? I've also learned of countries like Vanuatu, Eritrea, Comoros, Benin and Burkira Faso.

Here are my observations so far:

#1 - I'm sitting here tonight watching the opening ceremonies on NBC with somewhat mixed feelings. The major reason is because I despise Katie Couric. Can't stand her. She makes me retch. She is the most biased "journalist" (yes the quotes are on purpose) ever. When she finally figures out that her only job is to sit there and look pretty on the Today Show without channeling her obvious political views maybe I will be able to stomach her. And besides, she's too damned perky in the morning.

#2 - The commercials are very different than the winter games. Gone is the humor from Salt Lake (I loved those Bank of America commercials!) only to be replaced by lots of inspirational stuff. That's not bad, necessarily, but really it's opening night and I've already cried twice. I won't last if this crap keeps up. I did like the Corvette commercial with the kid though, mostly because of the fine print legalese that scrolled across the screen: "This is a dream. Do not drive without a license. Obey all traffic laws." Guess they have to protect themselves from moronic lawsuits. Thank you McDonalds and your stupid coffee lady.

#3 - I really could do without all the artsy fartsy stuff preceding the parade of nations. Sure, it was cool, but let's face it. I'm not an artsy fartsy kind of gal.

#4 - You've got to love how they announce the countries. First in Greek (which is to be understood), then French and then English. ACK! After 4 semesters of French I HATE the language. Why French? Is this meant to torment me? Why not Italian? Isn't Italy closer to Greece anyway? Or Spanish even - surely that language is more widespoken than friggin French. Bastages. The countries came in per the GREEK alphabet. Who the hell knows what that is anyway? I can name several fraternities, but I cannot hope to recite the alphabet.

#5 - The Greeks are big wusses. A big deal was made about security at the games. Greece was apparently announcing to anyone who would listen that they do not support the war in Iraq, nor the US policies there in hopes, I suppose, to ward off any possible terrorist attacks. Screw 'em. Who do you think Greece, France, Germany and the rest of them would come running to if they were actually under attack? You got it. Big Daddy. I'm all for the "truce" the UN was touting during the games (which is amazing because I usually think the UN are a bunch of morons). This is a sporting event and has nothing to do with politics. It just chaps my behind that Greece announced their nonsupport out of what I can only believe is fear. Buck up, tighten up and play on I say.

#6 - I really hate commentators, the professional ones anyway. If you've played the sport, rock on. But the cruelest thing I heard tonight was uttered by the mannequins counterpart (was it Bob Costas I think?). He made sure to mention that 86 nations have NEVER won a medal in a games, so this parade of nations was the biggest thrill of their lives. Ouch. Yes, it's certainly true, but damn! It just struck me as a bit nasty tonight to hear it out loud.

#7 - Was it me, or did anyone else think the US basketball team looked like a bunch of thugs in the parade? *sigh* And Alan Iverson's Mommy should have discussed the virtue of chewing gum with his mouth CLOSED. But hey, he's a hometown boy, so I guess I should feel some pride. I'm trying to feel it. Really.

Speaking of hometown heroes, we have another one in the games this year and it happens to be in one of my favorite sports. I am a big fan of women's soccer. Part of that is the fact that the Little One is a kick ass soccer player. I honestly don't say that because I gave birth to her. I promise. At 9 years old she is already being recruited by schools in the area. Hello....she's NINE! There is one coach from a private school that keeps telling me he'd love to coach her and constantly asks when she's going to come play for him. I reply, "when you pay her tuition." I'm not stupid. She even played a tournament this year as a guest player on a team. It was a big tourney, too. Teams came from as far as Canada. If you are not familiar with soccer tourney rules, teams are allowed 2 to 3 "guest players" that are not on the regular team roster. Back in the day I would call them "ringers." In the tourney she played as a guest player, she scored the only goal in the final for her team. Her team lost 2-1. BUT she was the only player to score against this team the ENTIRE tourney. Yup...until the final, the winning team was not scored on. The opposing coach even singled her out when he accepted his trophy. Her team was second and we have another trophy to collect dust. And DAMN do I sound like the proud soccer mom or what??? Those of you who know me know how ridiculously funny that thought is. I am NOT a soccer Mom!!! I will NEVER drive a mini-van. I do NOT scream from the side-lines....sort of. But hey, as long as she loves the game we'll support her. Who knows? Maybe there's a college scholarship in her future?

Which brings me back to our hometown hero (bet you were wondering when I would refocus). Angela Hucles is a member of the US Olympic women's soccer team for the first time this year. We ADORE Angela! First, as I said she is a hometown hero. She came up through boys soccer in our area because there was no girls league back in the day. You GO girl! Second, she went to the University of Virginia on a full scholarship...AND graduated with an anthropology degree. AND she played for the Boston Breakers in the WUSA. That's pro gang. But she always has advocated education. If injuries end her career, she has that degree to fall back on. She is very accessible to girls in our area, and very supportive to them all. She remembers them, which is a BIG thing for a kid.

Did I mention that Angela's Dad is my advisor at school? Yup. Dr. Hucles is many things, soccer Dad, Ph.D. in history, my African American history professor, referee for a couple of the Little One's games..and least in his list, he is my faculty advisor. I hope he is enjoying his trip to Greece! I can't wait to get the details when he returns for the fall semester.

Oh...and the icing on the cake? Traditionally there is one sport in the games that actually begins FIRST, before the opening ceremony. It's football. And the US women stomped Greece 3-1 on Wednesday. Mia Hamm had a goal and an assist. GO USA!!!

I was going to end the post the opening ceremonies were ending. THEN Bjork came out. God I love her. And as if I haven't been through the emotional ringer, there was the guy running the track as they announced each games from 1896 through 2004 complete with the city. I am spent my friends. Was it good for you too?

Avon Calling, Frozen Snot and Other Ramblings

I have an Avon MAN. How cool is that? Seriously think about it. He's not gay. He's not even a metrosexual (which is a term I'm not even sure I understand, but I love Dave Navarro so let's go with it). In fact, he is a Supervisor at the shipyard. Before you guys get your boxers in a knot consider the genius behind this. I know no fewer than 7 Avon representatives. I, myself, own a direct sales business (not girlie related - mine actually appeals to both sexes) so I run into lots of other direct sellers. None of these other Avon "ladies" are close friends or anything, so when I find myself in need of anything Avon related, who do you think comes to mind? You got it! The Avon MAN! This guy is making money hand over fist. BRILLIANT! Of course he sucks for advice about the products - doesn't know what lipstick wears the longest without drying out your lips, but who cares? For the record, I actually don't wear lipstick. I just buy tons of it. It is sort of like my thing for shoes.

The reason I bring up my Avon MAN is that he left the current book(s) on my door today. Of course I thumbed through them, not that I needed anything, but do you really ever NEED anything from Avon?. Two products caught my eye. One was the Stress Relief Massaging Pillow. You should see the chick in the photo. That's afterglow. No doubt about it. The part of the description that struck me as the funniest was: "Insert 2 massage units into the zippered pockets in the nylon shell for an added stimulating massage that will set your whole body atingle." Uh huh. 2 built-in motorized massagers this thing boasts. Hey for $19.99 I suppose that's not such a bad deal. Not if I get to look as happy as the woman in the photo.

The other thing that struck me as odd was a book from Avon's Inspirational Treasures flier. It's called "God's Answers to Tough Questions: Everything You Wanted to Know but Were Afraid to Ask." So I ask you, did God write this book? Where did He get the questions to answer? Who is His publisher? Ah maybe it's me. But this one really cracked me up.

In other news, I opened my freezer today and found an empty ice cream carton. Of course I grabbed it to throw away and something a bit odd caught my eye. It was a very large bottle cap (from a Gatorade bottle I think) that was filled with something rather yellow and lumpy. I summoned the troops for questioning. Very dramatically I opened the freezer door, pointed and said "what is THAT?" #1 Son shrugged, pointed at his sister and said "It's hers," like he sees this all the time and left the kitchen. The Little One said "It's mine, but don't worry it's not bad," and made her exit. Huh? I did what any sane Mommy would do and IMed C. to ask if he had seen the frozen snot-like substance before. He was as perplexed as I was. Upon further questioning of both the Wails I found out that it was The Little One's "experiment." Apparently she mixes various lotions, potions and stuff from the pantry to concoct "schlubber." Shoot me. I guess freezing it makes it a more palatable consistency. I can only wonder how much more of it is hidden in my freezer, but I'll be damned if I'm going hunting for it. She scares me.

I am counting the days until school starts.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

Scientific Facts About Vacations

Going out of town has proven several theories I have held concerning the goings on at home while I am away. I know I am not alone.

#1 – Laundry breeds. This phenomenon is not specific to your absence. I personally have always witnessed newborn laundry. I just have a higher awareness after returning home. It doesn't matter if you thought you laundered every piece of clothing your family owns before you left. There's a pregnant sock under the sofa that will emerge and multiply like a horny rabbit. I have found clothing lying around since returning home that I know for a fact no one in this house has ever owned before.

#2 – Furniture parties in your absence. You come home and all sorts of things have been moved. For instance I KNOW that I didn’t leave the dining room table shoved against the wall, nor did I leave the den recliner in the doorway to the living room. I guess the moving furniture is a good thing as it gives the newborn laundry a convenient place to rest on.

#3 – The yard turns into an uninhabitable jungle and takes on a look that belongs in “Modern Trailer Park” magazine. Things that you do NOT want to grow, like weeds with 18-inch roots, take off like they were hit with a double shot of Miracle Grow. The flora you were growing on purpose withers to a brittle brown mass as if you had planted it in the Sahara desert. Multiply this phenomenon exponentially by the cost of said plant when purchased from your local, overpriced garden center.

#4 – Anything important and time sensitive will arrive in the mail while you are away. It is a given that if you have been waiting by the mailbox with baited breath for three weeks for a piece of mail that was supposedly sent priority, it will finally arrive while you are gone. It will then be placed in a huge pile of junk mail where it has to fend for itself among the newborn laundry until you can get to it. When you eventually do, it will be too late.

#5 – Fish and other small pets that were not otherwise kenneled will die because they refuse to eat the stupid vacation food source you placed in their tank. OK, I admit that this did not happen to us this trip, but it has in the past. Again, this circumstance will occur exponentially based on the cost of the fish. A 79-cent fish will live forever despite being left in a tank with no food, whose filter craps out thus leaving an opaque greenish blue cloud. A $39.99 fish will expire as soon as you pull out of the driveway.

I suppose I should be somewhat happy that my hypotheses have been proven yet again. Maybe I will be…someday.


Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Phish Preaks

Keeping the little list of things I hope someday to write about has really been helpful. In fact I am amazed about all the stuff I noted. One would think we were gone for days instead of one long weekend. I find it interesting that I am looking at life a bit differently since I've started this little journal and become addicted to so many other writers. I wonder if others view life in terms of "this would make a great blog entry?" Perhaps statistics have been compiled somewhere. I think it's weird, though. I was sitting here composing a post about the weekend trip with the news on in the background. Lo and behold, current events zing to the top of my post list (to be used when I really want to write but have no fargin clue what to write about). Sometimes life is so stupid that I cannot resist the urge to comment. I feel like a retread of Seinfeld sometimes. That being said...

Apparently there was a Phish concert near my home this weekend and it's all over the news. Someone died, though they don't know exactly why yet. There was lots of footage of people toking it up, which is to be expected. It was, afterall, a Phish concert and I do live in the Bible belt. My favorite story from the concert aftermath though, is this loser who got busted for selling beer in the parking lot. There was great footage of him complaining about how unfair it was. He was issued a ticket and faces a $400 fine for selling two beers to someone. His reasoning is that he was in our state spending money and he was just trying to help someone else out. It wasn't like he needed the money or anything. Huh??!? Excuse me?

First - you have to be a total moron to enter my state and do something so stupid and THEN whine about it when you get caught. Remember friends, I don't make the laws and I may not agree with them, but they ARE laws afterall. I bet almost any brain cell challenged person knows not to screw around HERE. We have beverage control laws and an agency that enforces them rabidly. What a brain surgeon this guy is, puka beads and all. Second - he was "helping" someone? Give me a break. If it were me, I would just GIVE the beer away. Giving is helping. How the heck can you charge someone in a parking lot for two measly beers and claim philanthropic motives?

This guy deserves to be on that beatdown blog.


No Room at the Inn

Why is it that you always need a vacation AFTER your vacation no matter how short or wonderful the trip was? We had a great trip, though a brief one. Friday night was an interesting one. We left later than planned - no big surprise there. I am the Queen of Procrastination. The plan was to drive about half way, then find a hotel room to crash in and make the rest of the trip, well rested, Saturday morning. All the better to view the gorgeous scenery.

After dinner that night we were feeling pretty good. C. suggested we stop for the room as planned. But hey, we were wide awake so I thought we'd be good driving into the state of our destination and stopping outside of the next major city. Perfect right? Less of a drive on Saturday morning (read that as we'd get to sleep in later, since I am NOT a morning person and sleep is one of my favorite activities). C. was cool with that and we continued on. What are the odds that we'd pick the the weekend of the biggest music festival in this state to look for a hotel room on the spur of the moment? Well, if you've read this blog before you'll know that the odds were pretty damned good. We stopped at no fewer than four exits over 70+ miles along our route, all with the same results. No vacancy.

Apparently 2am is the limit for me to drive. After 2 I get rather punchy and can't shake the giggles. Unfortunately we didn't discover this fact until about 2:30am. C. resumed driving duty in the parking lot of the sixth hotel we tried. His sense of humor wasn't as sharp as usual. I can't imagine why. Off we went with me in hysterics, complete with tears streaming down my face. It became clear that hysterical laughter is not only a bad condition to drive in, but it is also a bit annoying for the driver as well. Who knew?

We finally lucked out about 3:30am at a Super 8 sixty miles from our destination. We got to pay $89 for a double bed for about 5 hours. Knock it off - it wasn't THAT kind of night! Now C. is not one to say "I told you so," and he didn't on this occasion. But he mumbled it. I heard him. He should have been more assertive and not let me push him around to vary from the original plan. I was kind enough to point that out to him.


Friday, August 06, 2004

Dogsitting 101

We're going out of town this weekend to retrieve #1 son from my uncle's farm. They've spent the past week together doing all kinds of male bonding things like driving tractors and 4-wheelers, swimming in the pond, looking for bears, inspecting fence lines, bush hogging and all the stuff I did when I was a kid growing up in farm country. Of course, when you HAVE to do that stuff...all the time, it's not so fun. But for a city kid like #1 Son it's an experience. Remind me to tell you how pathetic my city kids are when confronted with things like cow dung, horse poop and other memories from my childhood. It's a bit embarrassing. But I digress, as usual.

Our impending trip presented us with quite a dilemma. What does one do with a 400 pound senile Lab when one is leaving town? Putting her in a kennel is WAY to expensive, plus she'd be miserable. My BIL can't take care of her, as he is already weener-dog sitting for my MIL. It's really a bit much for my parents to come traipsing over here 3 times a day to let her out, etc. Luckily, our neighbors have offered to let Casey spend the weekend with them. Thank the Lord! She'll get to be with familiar people and a neighbor dog she likes.

And OK, Casey might be a bit shy of 400 pounds. Maybe 375? She's shorter than the average Lab, so she resembles a keg with feet. The poor girl is 11 and going really grey (I refuse to spend money on hair coloring for HER! Mine costs enough already). Did I mention she's senile? The adventures of Casey (and her being the bane of my existence) are fodder for many other posts. Let's leave it at the fact that I'm thrilled to have a "puppy sitter."

For those who might be thinking "Why not take her with?" let me leave you with a few lessons we learned after our last long road trip with the mutt. 1) I said before she's huge (around, not tall). Even in the politically incorrect SUVee action jeep she takes up a lot of space. The Prince and Princess of Wails tend to fight when bunched up together. That's good for no one. C. gets hoarse after several hours of yelling "If I have to pull this car over you guys are going to be sorry!" 2) The dog has a bladder the size of a lima bean, thus necessitating a stop about every 7 and a half miles. It makes the trip much longer. 3) The dog is also a bit of a moron. The last trip I drove 2 miles with the Little One screaming "Mommy, Casey's stuck!" at the top of her lungs. Upon further inspection I realized that the dog had shoved her head between the gap in the seat to fish for a pea sized crumb of a dog biscuit that the Little One had fed her (remember she's fat...wonder why?). She did, in fact, have her head stuck between the seats and was frantically trying to back out of her predicament thus clawing the cloth seats with her talons. All while traveling 70 miles an hour down the interstate. It's not good for my nerves.

Enjoy your weekend Casey. I know I will!


Thursday, August 05, 2004

Weird Coinkidinks

Wow, two in one day. I just ran into a weird coincidence and had to comment. I read several blogs on a regular basis and most are people I know. There are 3 or 4 though, written by people that are total strangers to me...well sort of. I just enjoy their writing styles and observations. I've noticed that since I have been reading their musings rather faithfully here lately, I feel like I am getting to know them. Or at least getting familiar with their online personas. Anyhoo, I NEVER comment, though I was compelled to do so on three different blogs this week. Weird. But, that's neither here nor there with the exception of one.

Lo and behold I checked into one of my regular haunts this afternoon to read a post. The author is the exact same age as me. I mean, same birthday, same year! OK, I know there were probably a zillion people born on that same day, in that same year, etc. You are probably wondering "what's the big deal?" and thinking I should get out more. You are probably right. I just thought it was really weird, since I am rather picky about the blogs I read, and what are the odds that this one person who I enjoy reading shares my birthday? How cool is that? win. I need to get out more.

As a post script, I plan to add links to some of my favorites once I figure the linking process out. I'm not sure of "blogger etiquette" though, so I suppose I should ask their permission first?


Financial Aid?

I get these great ideas for posts and yet when I sit down to write, I draw a blank. Thus, I have begun a list of posts to write in the future. Every now and then, however, a daily crisis surges to the top of the list. Today's dilemma is the come from behind winner. The cost of higher education is outrageous. That's a given. Why is it then, that Universities get you coming and going? Bendover Rover, you're a college student.

For the first time in my entire drawn out college career, my account has been put on the dreaded "hold." I have not paid my summer tuition. There are lots of reasons for that, as you can imagine from previous posts. Sometimes real life gets in the way. More about the dreaded "hold" in a minute.

My financial aid for the 2004-2005 school year is considerably less than in years past. Why? Well, I called (and FINALLY was able to speak to a real live person in the Financial Aid office) and it seems I have now exceeded the lifetime max for unsubsidized loans as an undergrad. There's a lifetime max?! Who knew? Just because it took me 15 or so years (and numerous classes) to finally figure out what I want to be when I grow up, I am now penalized. But OK, I can deal with that. Luckily, when I go into Grad school in the spring, my odometer goes back to zero. This means that I can rack up yet more debt that will someday have to be paid back - but I don't want to think that far ahead. I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it. I want to continue on for a Ph.D., and yet I shudder to think what that will cost in the end. Let's just say that my current debt is second only to the mortgage at this point, and growing exponentially. Good thing I'm not a finance or math major, lest I'd never be able to sleep at night.

So back to the "hold" and what that does for me. First, it lumps me into a group of "deadbeat" students who are looked down upon by the administration. People in the Finance Office actually use a different tone of voice when speaking to me - like I'm a small child who has been caught stealing a candy-bar from the 7-11. Second, it allows me to do NOTHING. I cannot view my grades and transcript, I cannot add or drop classes, I cannot even fill out the evaluation for the crappy French teacher I just endured. My University handles most transactions online now. The only function I can access due to my "hold" is the "Pay by credit card online" feature on the website. OK, I get the point.

After C. talked me down from my state of hysteria (which he's so very good at), we determined that once my fall financial aid money hit, everything would wash out by September. Well that's not going to work either. Just for grins and giggles, let me throw a little math at you: the University has just billed me for the fall as well as the summer. I now owe them a total of roughly $3,681. My fall financial aid is $2,750. OK boys and girls, you do the math and you see that it's not going to cover it. BUT, there is hope. I am currently enrolled for five classes in the fall, two of which I no longer need as I took them this summer. *IF* I drop those classes, my balance would be $2,661. Bingo right?! Wrong. Because you see, since I am on the dreaded "hold," I CANNOT drop those two classes.

So you see my friends, they f*%k you at the drive-thru.


Tuesday, August 03, 2004

I'm Happy With My Penis The Way It Is


I had the occasion to check a very old email address tonight. I only keep it around (at the cost of $5.95 a month!) because it once appeared on my business cards. It has been a couple of months since I checked it, and lo and behold there were 742 new messages. That's not an exaggeration. Out of 742 messages, there were probably about 500 that were spam (the rest were mailing lists that I rarely read anymore). There was only 1 message to me personally. Excessive spam is a major reason why I don't use that address much anymore. It's really annoying. I can't tell you how many offers I received for cheap Microsoft software, refinancing my mortgage, low cost viagra and my personal favorite, increasing my penis size.

What kind of a moron actually falls for this crap? Obviously there must be some small percentage of the Internet community that clicks through and maybe even purchases from these annoying marketing ploys. There has to be, or the spammers wouldn't continue to send it. Where do these customers come from? Are they inbred? Did Bubba get a new 'puter in the double-wide? How mentally challenged do you have to be to buy stuff from an unsolicited email? I envision these intellectually challenged people and can only think that they are the ones for whom all those laws are written and those stupid warnings are created. Stuff like seat belt and helmet laws. Warnings like "do not iron clothing while being worn on the body" and "caution coffee in this cup is very hot." I say let the idiots kill themselves. It only strengthens the gene pool.

As for me, I'm off to buy Windows XP for $20 so that I can surf the web to refinance my house for 1.8%. This should cause me to grow a penis, ripe for enlargement. Then I can buy cheap viagra to put my new huge penis to good use.


Monday, August 02, 2004

Three Things You Don't Really Care About

3 names you go by:
OK, in blogland. If you know me personally you know the others already
1. Catt
2. Cattiva (bonus points if you know what it means)
3. MOM! (be sure to whine when you say it and draw out the “o”)

3 screen names you have:
1. Cattiva
2. Catt
3. Secret Agent (back in the day. About three of you now know who I am)

3 things you like about yourself:
1. I grow great kids.
2. My ability to laugh at myself
3. My ability to live like this and avoid the guilt

3 things I hate/dislike about myself:
1. I am the undisputed queen of procrastination
2. My smart mouth
3. My ability to live like this and avoid the guilt

3 parts of your heritage:
1. Scottish (where my ability to hold a grudge comes from)
2. German
3. English (my great-great-great grandmother's RED wedding dress is displayed in a historical society museum. HA!)

3 things that scare you
1. My family
2. Spiders
3. Being trapped with my family on a long car trip, with a spider

3 of your everyday essentials:
1. Cokes and smokes – the breakfast of champions
2. Computer time
3. Popcorn

3 things you're wearing right now:
1. Sweat pants & shirt
2. Fuzzy socks
3. Granny Underware – the good stuff is in the laundry

3 of your favorite bands/artists: Now? There are way too many to list. Let's go with the last 3 CDs I played in my car.
1. Deep Forest
2. Fleetwood Mac
3. Ashley MacIssac

3 of your favorite songs at the present:
1. Relax – Frankie Goes to Hollywood
2. Lose Yourself - Eminem
3. I Feel Love – Blue Man Group with Venus Hum

3 things you want in a relationship(love is a given)
1. Honesty
2. Humor
3. Fine Dining OUT once a month

2 truths and a lie (no particular order to keep you guessing):
1. I am over 5'9" tall
2. I wear a size 10 shoe
3. I am 135 pounds

3 physical things about a love interest that appeal:
1. I love me some butt – preferably in tight Levis
2. Big beautiful............EYES silly
3. Toned muscular legs

3 things you just can't do:
1. Decorate my house – 5 years and still white walls
2. Actually get my entire house clean...all the rooms at the same time.
3. Stay away from your blog

3 of your favorite hobbies:
1. Scrapbooking
2. eBay – it's a sickness
3. Model trains

3 things you want to do badly right now
1. Honestly? Go to the bathroom
2. Drink another glass of wine
3. Win the lottery

3 careers you are considering:
1. College professor
2. Published Historian
3. Queen of England

3 kids names (either boy or girl) OK, how about my grandmothers' names, all of which I was almost named after
1. Edith
2. Idella
3. Fannie

3 things you want to do before you die:
1. Visit the Grand Canyon
2. Take a trans-atlantic cruise
3. Win the lottery

Sunday, August 01, 2004


My mother is one of the sweetest most caring people in the world. My mother will do anything for you. My mother worries about anything and everything, especially about you. My mother also can't hold her liquor very well. Last night she was introduced to Jagermeister for the first time. No not by me. I know better.

Perhaps you might wonder why I find this so friggin hysterical. Nana (as the kids call her) usually has a glass of wine at night. Not even the good stuff, mind you. Nana gets it in the jug. But she likes it, and honestly it's not that bad. If, by chance, Nana has more than one or two glasses, she quickly gets on one's nerves. After learning about Nana's new friend Jager, I had visions of my father diving off the 6th floor balcony to escape. This gave me the giggles, and no it had nothing to do with the amount of wine that I consumed last night either!

My mother is June Cleaver personified. She's the typical 50's housewife. Perfect in every way - the house is spotless, the family is taken care of, the bills are paid, etc. No wonder she drinks. I know my Dad was pissed that my uncle introduced her to Jager (I can't believe he'd even heard of it, much less drinks it!). She "liked the taste," which is what she says about the jug wine, too. I only hope that this was a one time thing, lest I find Dad clinging to the balcony railing sometime in the future.

Salut Nana!


Name: Cattiva
Location: Virginia, United States

About Me: I'm the mom of three: #1 Son (20), The Princess of Wails (17) and their baby brother - The Baby (6). I was a grad-student working on an MA in history until we were surprised - I mean blessed - with The Baby. I'll get back to it...someday (the thesis, not the kid - I have no choice concerning the kid). I am one of only a few people I went to school with who is actually using their history degree in my career (and to think my Father called it Basket-weaving!). I live a very hectic life amongst massive clutter. I call it a good day if we have managed to get home at night without losing one of the kids (no matter how hard I try!). Friends say I have a humorous take on life's happenings. The sad part is that what I write about is true. I laugh to keep from crying.

See my complete profile

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