My Big Secret

Alright. Here's the deal. I'm laying it out for you.

I screen my calls. All my calls. And I'm not ashamed of it. I pick up my phone most of the time with the intention of hitting the "silence" button, not the "talk" button.

The Man That I Cohabitate With thinks that this is extremely rude. "If they took the time to call..." he says. I find this line of reasoning to be nonsense. What time does it take to call? What effort? It's not like anyone has to look up numbers these days. They're all stored in cell phones. It takes at most 5 seconds for the user to instruct the phone to make the call. Also, it's not as if the caller even had to move to make the call. They have the cell phone on them. They could be in a restaurant, in a mall, at a sporting event of some kind. Making a phone call is no longer a special event.

Also, I know what people are calling me about. I know that if I get a call from a friend in town early on a Saturday night, they want to go out. If I get that same call much later on a Saturday night, they want me to come pick them up. I know who wants to chat, who wants advice, who's lonely, who's concerned about my welfare.

And if it's anything urgent, they'll leave a message.

Which I'll check in about... a week, just before it's deleted.

Note: No, of course this does not apply to you. I always answer your calls. If you call and I don't answer, it's because I'm asleep. Or in a public place. Or can't hear my phone. Or my phone is out of batteries. Or some other perfectly reasonable explanation.

NaNoWriMo

NaNoWriMo starts in 3 hours and 32 minutes. Are you doing it?

I'm trying to.

Best of the Week:

Best recipe: Kitty Can Scratch Cosmo

Best quote of the week: "Marcia, you say 'F-' as often as normal people say 'the!'" - Court

Best Dem news of the week: It's a toss-up between the Harriet Miers withdrawl and Scooter Libby's indictment.

Best game to play this time of year: Name the costume of the random (uncostumed) man on the street (i.e. Escaped Lunatic, College Professor circa 1960, etc.).

Best thing to do with the extra hour today: Sleep!

I really need to stop this!

This reading books because I like the author or becuase everyone else likes the author. Apparently modern authors don't have as many good books in them as they have just books.

The book incurring my wrath today is Sleep, Pale Sister by Joanne Harris. I really liked two of her other books, Chocolat and Five Quarters of the Orange. I thought that they were brilliant, interesting, and thoughtfully written. Then... she reprints her second novel, and... I don't want to talk about this book. It's victorian death, painters, cemeteries, and ghosts. And pedophiles. And drug addiction - but the drug is laudanum. And it's used in a violent, controlling manner. And it's just weird. And dude, I'm really glad that it's done. I'm embarassed that I put it on my blog as what I was reading.

And I'm starting The Paris Review Book of People with Problems. I think that the only response to reading two horrendous novels in a row is to turn to short fiction.

The Arch, Jiggler Ghosts, and a Pet Cemetery

Yesterday, on my commute home, I heard on NPR that is was the 40th anniversary of the St. Louis Arch. This was kind of exciting for me, because I really like the Arch. It's probably my favorite thing about this city - it's majestic and always sends shivers up my spine when I see it rising above the skyline. So, I hear the story on NPR, and I wonder why I didn't find out about this from the local news... and then it hits me: I actively avoid the local news. Because I think it's drivel. But I thought, in the spirit of ... something ... my link to the story on the arch should be from local St. Louis news. But all they had was this (I officially have "No Comment" about what one gives a national landmark on the occasion of it's 40th birthday). So I'm back to my "local news is drivel" thesis.

After work I had 2 parties to attend - I felt so popular. The first was the law school infused party with ghost shaped jello shots. There can be nothing wrong with that. The hostess was wearing a slip covered with the word "freud." She was a freudian slip! I really thought that was clever...

Then, on to the 2nd party - the one with cheesy horror films and a trip to the pet cemetery. My coworker E-Liz was hosting it, and JD1.0 supplied the films. The group of us settle in with party snacks and "hot sugary wine" to watch Chopping Mall. Now, I had never heard of this film before, but approximately 20 minutes into the movie I could have told you who was going to live and who was going to die. We all clapped when the porn star like girl's head exploded, we all waited for Susie to die after she forced the girls out of the ventilation system. We noticed a disturbing lack of pulse checking of the supposedly dead by survivors, though. Apparently, in Chopping Mall, if you fall, you're a goner. Too bad for you.

After Chopping Mall we headed to the Pet Cemetery. We park at the IHOP, walk through the Batteries Plus parking lot, and into the pet cemetery. We're greated by this sign:


But we decide that we ARE on official cemetery business, so we're allowed. The cemetery was very old, and full of graves from the 1930s. Our favorite was the cat named Monkey, from 1938. I am a huge fan of naming pets after other animals.


Now, that gravestone wasn't very elaborate. Don't be fooled. This is a fancy-schmancy upscale pet cemetery. Observe:









And Court and J-Wat wanted their picture taken with the dog statues. And they wanted it posted on the blog.

Don't say I'm not acommedating!!

Then we headed back to E-Liz's to watch The Fog. And I screamed at Jamie Lee Curtis the entire movie. Because she was a dirty hitchhiking whore.

It's that kind of day

I think I said it best on Pink Shoe Haiku.

I apparently need more caffeine.

I was just talking with one of my coworkers about the World Series, and the Cardinals, and she said, "Albert Pujols is my new boyfriend," a phrase that I should be familiar with because I, in fact, own an Albert Pujols jersey (it's a child's size medium and I got it for my birthday). I reply, "What? Lou Holtz is your new boyfriend?" In response my coworker gagged and left my cube.

The Quag-Miers is OVER!

Harriet Miers withdrew her name from consideration to the SCOTUS this morning. I can't say that anyone is surprised. I wonder who Bush will nominate in her place - maybe an actual judge?

I heard the news on the radio this morning while I was in the shower. I immediately yelled to the Future Lawyer who went directly to the internet. "Well, honey," he said, disappointed, "It seems to be the first time in the history of the world that NPR has scooped the internet." He's spent the last 5 minutes stalking between the rooms in our flat that have radios, eating his toast, and making lawyer-like comments. I love it.

Enjoyable Evening

Tonight I walked 5 minutes to my friend and coworker's house, and then the two of us walked and additional 5 minutes to Left Bank Books to see Mark Bittman, the fabulous chef. I ended up buying two books, both of short fiction: The Paris Review Book of People With Problems and Under the Arch: St. Louis Stories. I have always loved short fiction, and although I also enjoy novels, I think that my personal bent is towards writing short fiction (even though people who know me would shake their heads and say, "That girl can talk! I wouldn't have expected that she could contain herself in short fiction!").

MF and I purchased our books and then headed another 5 minute walk (I felt so metropolitan!) to the hotel that inspired Ghostbusters and had some drinks at one of the bars. It was a good evening. We should do it again soon.

And now I'm going to real Sleep, Pale Sister quickly so I can get started on these awesome collections I've just bought!!

The Husband's Comments

"Honey, why didn't you take an official cover shot of Birds Without Wings off of Amazon or something?"

"I didn't buy a $200 digital camera to steal stuff from Amazon!"

Birds Without Wings

Alright, I'm sure most of you who know me were wondering why my sidebar has been saying that I've been reading Birds Without Wings by Louis de Bernieres for almost a month, if not more. I usually run through my books much faster. The truth is I hated the book, but didn't feel I could put it down. The entire blogosphere knew I was reading this book. I had to finish.

I bought this book because it was on the "Buy 2 Get 1 Free" table at B&N. And it had an intriguing cover and title. And people have been bugging me for years to read Louis de Bernieres' other book, which shall remain nameless, but has an almost cult-like following and a (what I'm sure is sub-par) movie staring Nicholas Cage (father of Kal-El). I figured if I read this one, I'd have a response when fanatics found out that I hadn't read their highly esteemed book.

Unfortunately for me, there's a reason why this one doesn't have the following of its older brother. It has approximately 600 plot lines, about 2 of which are interesting. By the end of the novel, I only cared about Leyla Hanim and Philothei. And then, even though the book is 551 pages long, the ending seems rushed and unfulfilling. And then there were 558 plot lines that I did not care about! The chapters are named after who narrates them, and I began to dread certain narrators. I truly enjoy history, and this book has a lot of history, but... it was so boring!

Another thing that kept me reading Birds Without Wings (besides that fabulous title. Even knowing how much I hate this book, I still LOVE the title and want to read a GOOD book with this title) is that approximately every 50 pages, Louis de Bernieres came up with some prose that absolutely blew me out of the water, it was so beautiful. It made me think that if he'd had a proper editor he could have come up with a better book. It almost made me sad.

If I don't have my own kids...

...I can borrow my coworkers. On Sunday I went to a little get-together with some friends and JP brought her daughters. They were on their way to a Halloween party - Abby's a ballerina and Megan was waiting until they headed to the party to finish turning into Tinker Bell.

I call them Rockin' Abby and No Pants Megan. Because pants are uncool. Don'tcha like 'em?

Goings on at the Bank

Saturday, having, after 2 months of marriage, changed my name legally, The Husband and I went to the bank to inform them of my name change and to finally deposit those checks that people wrote to "mr. and mrs. married couple", which the bank wouldn't accept until I'd gotten that fabulous MO Driver's License.

The bank next door to our apartment was very crowded, so we headed out to the branch of the bank where I used to work - out in suburbia, but the 10 minute drive was going to be much less than if we waited in the personal banker line at our branch - which, although we live in a nice area, also serves kind of a ghetto population. I knew that the branch I used to work at is empty on Saturdays and that I knew the people working there, and they wouldn't give us any sort of hassle...

So, stop at Starbucks, the world's largest crack dealer, and stocked up, then headed out to Ladue. I walk in and my old assistant manager is working the lobby. "Hi S.," I say as I walk in. "Well, hello stranger," she replies, and I instantly want to do some sort of violent physical harm to her. I tell her that I need to change my name with the bank, as I've changed my name in Real Life. She pretends to be coy and asks me why I have to change my name, and I tell her that I got married (which, considering that I got engaged while working for her and I have a suspicious looking man following me around is the DUMBEST question I've ever heard of...) and she comes around to give me a hug. Which I grudgingly do.

So I go to a personal banker do everything I need to do, and then head to the teller line to deposit some checks. I've already had the hug from the assistant manager, the chat with the personal banker who I used to work with, and visits from 3 tellers who came over to chat with me. The teller line looks long, and The Husband excuses himself to go make some phone calls outside. I pay no attention to him, deposit the check and meet back up with him to head home.

But, the fun doesn't end there - it seems that as The Husband was exiting the bank, one of the regular customer that I used to wait on was coming in, Jim Edmonds, the center fielder of the Cardinals... and The Husband was impressed, but didn't really want to say anything ("What was I going to say? Nice walk?" which I thought was an insult until he told me that actually is WAS a nice walk which possibly allowed the Cards to win the last game in Houston. But how was I supposed to know that?).... but The Husband and The Center Fielder made eye contact, and it made the whole "going to the bank" experience better for all...


Some people would say, "Don't blog after 2 glasses of wine!" I am not one of those people.

Best of the Week:

My favorite blog post this week: Fluid Pudding.

Best Friday afternoon at the office when you don't want to be doing work dance mix: from Dominik. (E-Liz: I want to go dancing right now, but only if it's to this! And I don't even like dancing!)

Project of the week: Pink Shoe Haiku - what do you think of it?

Best Harriet Miers recap: From The Daily Show.

Meatballs

I made a pan of delicious, old Italian family recipe meatballs last night. "Why," you may ask, "is the mostly-vegetarian Pink Shoe befouling her hands by shoving them into a bowl of ground meat?"

This is a good question. It has a long and complicated answer:

Thursday, on my way home from work, I got a call from an old friend, SA, who happened to be in my part of town and wanted to go out for a drink, possibly dinner. I tell The Husband that I'll call him in an hour after I figure out if I'm having dinner with him or with SA. At this point, The Husband encourages me to go out with SA for dinner. So SA and I head out to a bar around the corner from my apartment and settle into chocolate martinis and catching up. About 45 minutes later we're a few martinis in, and I call The Husband and tell him that if he's hungry to go ahead and eat, because I'm not sure about dinner.

However, SA and I finish our drinks and head our seperate ways without having eaten dinner - it just worked out that way. It was raining, and the walk in the rain to get dinner did not appeal to either of us. We like each other, but we also like being warm and dry. So I went home to The Husband with the slight hope that he had not eaten, so that we could eat together.

I get home and The Husband is slightly sprawled on the couch. "Hi Honey!" I say. "Hi..." he replies. I sense the ellipses in his speech. "Did you eat?" I ask. "More or less...." Again with the ellipses! "What did you eat?" I knew that there was practically no food in the house - I was mostly curious to see if he'd made or ordered something that I could then eat, as I was quite hungry (chocolate martinis make a delicious but unsatisfying dinner). "Crackers..." I pause. This was not the answer I had been expecting. Did we even have crackers in the house? "Do you mean that package of 3 kinds of crackers? That was unopened?" I remembered buying one of those Pepperidge Farm Trios, the pack of crackers that you buy for a party: 1 sleeve of Hearty Wheat, one of English Water, and one of butterfly shaped Butter Thins. Immediately conscious of only my welfare, I inquire, "Did you eat all the butterfly ones?!?!" as those are my favorite. "No... not all of them..." he replies. I really wish he'd stop using these ellipses. They're starting to get on my nerves. "Did you eat the wheat crackers?" "Yeah, I ate those..." Ok, I think, a loss, but not a big one. "Did you eat those gross water crackers?" "Yeah..." I'm kind of happy he did that, because I don't like them. At this point I've decided I've gotten all that I can out of him, and I head to the kitchen to try and scavenge some food.

In the kitchen, I discover this:
Yes, it's the remaining crackers. There are 9 of them. He ate everything else. And then wouldn't go out and buy me food, because he felt all gross and carb-y. The butt. I looked at the side of the box: Serving size - 3 crackers. Servings per box - 20. I yell at The Husband, "You ate 17 servings of party crackers! What were you thinking?" "Well, I was watching the Simpsons... and I wanted something to chew on..."

and then ... I saw him there, bloated, miserable, surrounded by cracker crumbs, and knew that I couldn't leave him on his own for dinner another night. So I went out, and bought meat and oregano and garlic (among other things! I'm not giving away the ancient family recipe!) and dug my hands in deep into the slimey gross meat... because I really love him. Or because I don't want him to turn into a cracker-craving hunk of fat man-flesh.

E-Liz's First Sentence

E-Liz (the older of the two in the picture), whose cube is next to mine, just told me what her first sentence was - keep in mind she has older, devious brothers:

"Die you gravy sucking pigs!"

This was quickly followed by:

"Try to get a touchdown, scumbags!"

I think my first sentence had something to do with wanting more juice....

The "Show Me" State

Don't get me wrong - I've really enjoyed most of the people that I've met here in St. Louis, but... some of the things about this state are ridiculous. Today I'm going to go get my first and only Missouri Driver's License. After living here for 2 years and 4 months, it's about time, right? But my name change has finally come through, and to make it truly official, and to force the husband to stop calling me by my maiden name (ha, like that's going to work), I'm going to the DMV today.

Changing your name in Colorado when you get married is quite easy: you sign your marriage license with your married name, and your name is changed. Other states make it harder on you. But, getting your marriage license mailed back to you may take some time - like a month and a half. That's why it's been 3 months and 1 day, and I'm finally getting the MO DL.

Missouri has this funny "Show Me Proof" initiative with their DL program - you have to prove a lot of things to them (and they think it's funny to say "Show Me"... I think it makes me want to punch people in the mouth). You have to prove identity, residency, and the fact that you're legally in the US (that's the new and controversial one....)

So, what I'm taking with me:
1) Old CO DL (proof of ID)
2) US Passport (Proof of legal US residency)
3) most recent mailed pay stub (Proof of my MO residency)
4) New Social Security Card reflecting name change
5) Original Marriage License showing why the social security card really is mine.

If anyone wants to mug me on the way to the DMV, they would really have my entire life in their hands....

Wish me luck!

And I'm working on a Harriet Miers post, but I just didn't have the energy last night... tonight, I promise.

It's New Digi Cam Day!

And I was going to celebrate it by posting a picture of my horribly mangled big toe, which I stubbed (with bloody results), but I actually want to still have readers after this post, so I decided against it. You can still feel sorry for me, though. It'll make me feel better.

Instead, I'm showing off my favorite new breed of dog: The Puggle.

Quite honestly, if I were in any position to get a dog, this dog would be mine. It's actually for sale. Did you see that it has a curly pug tail? And a wrinkled face? And can't you just tell that he loves HUGS?

Some people are just cooler than me

It's shocking, I know. But it's true. Every once in a long while, someone does something so spectacular that, well, they're just cooler than me. Temporarily.

My friend Reina just completed a tri-athalon! Check her out - she ROCKS!

You can see her swimming, biking, running, and just chilling after the race, because, hey, it's no big thing - she'd do it everyday if someone organized it!

And yes, I know she's awesome and hot, but I got her back - she wore a pink dress with a bow on her boobs in my wedding! HAHAHA!


The whole thing was a fantastic sea of pink! It was so awesome!

A What?

Paris Hilton, apparently still unaware that her ex-fiance was calling her a whore when allowing her to keep her $5Million engagement ring, has once again succeded in staying in the news by selling said engagement ring and donating the profits to charity. Which - don't get me wrong - is a good thing. But why can't she do it quietly?

Once again, The Fuggers say it better than I do....

I reall have no words to describe Paris. Can's she just be happy with being richer than Zeus and stop shoving herself in my face?

and... parents friends who take me out for dinner and lots of wine and pleasent conversation are always welcome. I'm going to bed now.

I thought marrying trash was a GOOD idea...

Oh wait, my husband's about to be a very successful lawyer. Brit-Brit's husband, however, is about to run this woman, and her $123 Million, into the poor house. It's one thing to marry a rich woman and want your lifestyle to improve. It's quite another to marry a rich woman and open a multimillion dollar dance studio with Michael Jackson's father Joe. (And you've gotta love that purple mini-dress on the very pregnant Brit. She should be slapped.) Why do these people think that Brit's mom Lynne can reign in this problem? She did such a fantastic job of controlling her own daughter...

And while we're complaining about the monstrosity that is K-Fed and Brit-Brit, I'd like to direct you to one of my favorite pages: The Fuggers have an entire segment of their website dedicated to our favorite white trash made good. Or sweet girl turned white trash who married ghetto trash. Or whatever you want to call them. And oh god, I can't believe they were actually allowed to breed.

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

The best news for all of you out in Blog Land is that I actually bought a digi cam today. It arrives on Tuesday. No more tiny, grainy cell phone pictures for you! You deserve better.

And, Gawker and JolieNYC have once again told us why we're working in the wrong sort of publishing industry. There are no words.

The Husband's taking me out to the best sushi in STL tonight - Sekisui on Grand. It tastes like the body of water that borders this town is an ocean, not the muddy Mississippi.

And now for something completely different:

In honor of NOTHING AT ALL HAPPENING YESTERDAY, and the fact that the day was COMPLETELY UNEVENTFUL, I am making Key Lime Pie.

Pictures to follow.

Update: 6: 50pm.

Here's the picture:


And I got to use my Pink Kitchen Aid Mixer. Which was awesome.

Moving on...

Well, that was disappointing. You can drown your sorrows with this amusing and mind-numbing game I found at addictinggames.com. The point is (and you can see why I like this game) to make the board as dark pink (as opposed to light pink) as possible. Move the P square around and forget about USC I mean... whatever's bothering you. It's called Top Banana. I've gotten down to 65 squares.

It's USC Day!

As the husband says:

And David put his hand into his bag and took from it a stone and slung it, and struck the Philistine on his forehead. And the stone sank into his forehead, so that he fell on his face to the ground. GO IRISH! BEAT TROJANS!!!

Fabulous or Ghetto-Fabulous?

What's your opinion of this purse? Fabulous or Ghetto-Fabulous? Vote below...

It's a small evening purse with 3 little flowers of feathers and chiffon.

Okapi

Alright, it's been awhile since I've posted an animal. October 8 to be exact (and those TWO Bat-Eared Foxes, even though they did not get many comments, still hold a place in my heart). Since then you've had some memorable posts - the She-Ra reminiscing, the Death of Squirmy, the Pink Pen. Together we have ripped on Lance Armstrong, praised William Shatner, and decided that we LOVE Boy George even more becuase he calls the cops when he has 13 bags of coke in his apartment.

But now, I introduce you to the Okapi. It looks like a zebra/horse thing, but it's really closely related to a giraffe.


Impressed? Me too.

Political Correctness

I attended a 2 day meeting that had a lot to do with conflict resolution. Early this morning we were talking about how conflict can result from having diffrent ethical views, and one of the moderaters said, "You know, like what's happening at the Plaza Frontenac today." The group was quiet for a moment, wondering what could be happening at the very upscale mall in St. Louis. Finally, someone asked, "What's happening at the Plaza Frontenac?" The moderater replied, "Well, PETA's doing some sort of protest because of a fur sale." The group was quiet. My company generally attracts the left wing granola type, and I'm sure that many in the crowd agreed with the PETA protest. It was early in the morning, but after about a second I realized what was going on. "There's a fur sale?!?!" I asked...

Unfortunately it's just J.Crew. I was hoping for Sak's or Neiman's.

Pink Princess Pen Perfection

My fantastic co-worker J.D. (1.0, not to be confused with J.D.2.0) was in Florida all last week, hanging out at Disney. He brought back little presents for all of us, and I belive that my present is fantastic - a long pink pen topped with a poof, some ribbons, a whole lotta beads, and a sparkly princess picture.

I was at a two-day meeting all day yesterday and today... and today I used the pen the entire day. The rest of the group kind of hated me, but it made the meeting go faster....

In other news, I have again decided that if I had been in posession of a Rabbit when I lived alone, I may have become an alcoholic. NO! Not the best friend that many women talk about, the wine opener. I can open a bottle of wine with this thing in about 5 seconds. The traditional manner takes me about 5 minutes. And I like wine. But the tradition method of opening kept me from indulging on a regular basis. And I am very glad that The Husband, while not bringing many culinary items into our marriage, did come equipped with the Metrokane Rabbit.

Now, Iron Chef America has Ming Tsai vs. Emeril with Duck as the secret ingredient. I'm rooting for Ming. Don't bug me until 11.

The Death of Squirmy

It was a very sad weekend for my department. As you may remember, last month a little gecko was found in the storage room at work. (If you don't remember, here's a link.) We bought the little inch and a half long critter a terrarium, a water dish, some dead flies and some gourmet dead crickets. We even went so far as to light and heat his home with a PetSmart heat lamp.

Alas, the lizard with many names (Squirmy, The Vault, TV, The Crazy Lizard Over There With the EAs....), while visiting the home of E-Liz, woke up dead Sunday morning. E-Liz reports that his last days were spent basking in the sun on the side of his water dish and licking his eyeballs. He was burried underneath the tallest tree outside of E-Liz's apartment, 3 trowels deep into the ground. The follow eulogy, was read by Adam over his grave:

Today we pay respects to our lizard brother, Squirmy “The Vault” of Elsevier. Truly he brought warmth into our hearts with his sticky toes and blinking eyes, and the wiggling of his striped tail. And yet, the glare of artificial light and the mushed crickets upon which he was meant to break his fast were not enough for Squirmy, who remembered all too well, hot, sunny days basking upon a banana leave, licking his eyeballs while waiting for sweet, sugary gnats. Brothers and sisters, today he walks upon the finger of Jesus, who no doubt is smiling upon him now, and is preparing a spot for him amongst the trees of heaven. We may rest assured, that while he was never offered a chance to pitch insurance, he will now feast upon the fruit of the tree of life. And while we will miss our little friend, we should take solace in the words of Don McClean, who wrote, “This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.” Rest in peace little Squirmy. A-men.

Please pay your respects (in the comments section) to the lizard that brightened our days for too short of a time.

Heros of the 80's

My friend Reina is planning on dressing like She-Ra: Princess of Power for Halloween. Yes, that is the full title. And, yes, she will only answer to her full name. She needed a little help finding some good pictures for costume ideas, and, as I'm always up for a little internet research, I helped.

Reina is currently searching for a boy-toy to dress as her twin brother, He-Man, and ignore comments from me about the incestual undertones in making your boy-toy dress as your twin brother. Those interested in the position should contact me.

Actual photos of Reina as She-Ra will be posted in early November.

All this talk about She-Ra brought me back - when I was in kindergarten, my best friend was Kabe Erkenbracht. We were best friends because our moms and younger sisters were friends. I liked him, though, because he had Castle Greyskull

and
Snake Mountain and many, many action figures. And there were working trap doors and drawbridges and an elevator and well... MFing cool. That's all I have to say.

I am truly a bad person.

I'm watching the movie Dodgeball for the first time. It came on HBO after Extras, and I've been yelled at before for not having seen it. And the Absent Husband is, as one would expect, absent, working on a brief, so I had nothing better to do ("What's better than watching Dodgeball?" I'm sure you're all asking. I don't know. You tell me.).

It's almost over, and I'm enjoying it. Laughing my butt off. And then, Lance Armstrong comes on. And - this is why I'm a bad person - I HATE Lance Armstrong. He slightly redeemed himself by making a possibly self deprecating speech, but then I knew he didn't really mean it in that light. And he was wearing yellow. His dumb favorite color. And I got all pissed.

But then William Shatner showed up. In the very next scene. So I'm happy again.

Another Celebrity Shocker!

I am completely blown away. Boy George does cocaine? Oh wait, I'm in no way surprised. But I am in a big way a fan of Karma Chameleon. A song probably written on coke.

The Trials and Tribulations of a Blogger

One of the reasons I was most excited about going to the Social Security Administration to change the name on my Social Security card was.... well, it's a government institution. I thought I'd have a horrendous time there and have so much to blog about!

Unfortunately/fortunately, I showed up around 2 on Friday and had only 5 people in front of me in line. The seal of the social security centered on the main wall was cracked, and the decor was '70's minimal, but... I sat there, not having to be next to anyone, and looked at the people around me. None were sketchy. The female security guard, who, though very very butch, didn't do anything funny, and held the door for me as I left. Another potential blog gold mine.... not producing. I was called up after about 25 minutes, I had all my paperwork and documentation, handed it to the lady, who disappeared for 5 minutes and reappeared with a form for me to sign. And then I left. Very sad, actually.

So instead of a funny post, you get a picture of TWO Bat-Eared Foxes. I love these foxes. I have a special place in my heart for the fox as a breed. I hope people find it more appealing than the two headed tortoise - or at least less sassy.

It's Bye Week!

And the best thing is that there is NO WAY that we can lose this weekend, as we're not playing. Who's your favorite Notre Dame Football 2005 player?

I'm not as young as I used to be...

It's 9:57. Iron Chef America is almost over. I believe that Morimoto has kicked some tail in the asparagus battle - against a chef from Cleveland. This does not bode well for my Akron move. I am so sure of Morimoto's win that, even though I love this show, I want to go to bed. I am so tired. Falling asleep on the couch tired. But I cannot go to bed.

The husband is at one of his professor's houses, drinking fabulous wine and eating fabulous food, and discussing "the law" with said professor and 3 other 3Ls. (Side note: I was right. Morimoto cannot lose. Now I'm watching Iron Chef Classic. I'll let you know.) (Additional note: I did not have good wine and gourmet food. I had leftovers (good leftovers, but leftovers) and some juice.) There is supposedly so much wine and such at this dinner that the boys asked me to drive them to the dinner at 6:30 and pick them up when they are done. It's now 10:03. Are they done yet? And frankly, wouldn't it be safer for them to drive, as I'm passing out from exhaustion? They can't be as impaired as I am - they're drinking with a professor. One of the other students drove - can't he drop off the other 3, including my husband? I'm so selfish. But I have to get up and go to work soon. Advise me.

And now for a less contentious post...

Alright, if I can't have the baby panda, I want the cute two headed baby tortoise. It's so little! It would fit in the terrarrium with little T.V. It's from Havana. All cool things are from Havana. Darn Castro.

The Little Cruisette

I've been meaning to write about celebrity baby names for quite a while now, but something always gets in my way. Today's announcement of Katie Holmes' and Tom Cruise's impending bundle of joy gave me a chance once again. (although I'm upset that my earlier predictions were wrong: I was told by my mother in law that she'd heard from her best friend, who heard from her friend, who heard from Katie Holmes' mother that this whole thing is a hoax, and TC is gay. But that could still be true. The baby might not be his!)

When celebrities name thier children, they apparently lose contact with the 3 or 4 brain cells that they have in their heads. The most recent reminder of this phenomena is Nicholas Cage and his beautiful newborn Kal-El Coppola Cage. The poor kid is named after Superman. And not just any old Superman name - Superman's Krypton name. And the little guy doesn't even have a normal middle name to fall back on. What are they going to call him? Do you remember how that damn thing is pronounced? Call-Ell.

One family of repeat offenders in the child naming game is the Jacksons. In order of oldest to youngest Jackson siblings (excluding LaToya and Janet who have not, thankfully, procreated):
Rebbie: Stacee, Yashi, and Austin
Jackie: Sigmund and Brandi
Tito: Toriano Adaryll, Taryll Adren, and Tito Joseph
Jermaine: Jermaine Jr., Autumn, Jaimy, Jeremy, Jourdyn, Jaffar, Jermajesty, and Dawn
Marlon: Valencia, Brittany, and Marlon Jr.
Randy: Steveanna, Randy Jr., Dante, and Genevieve (the youngest 3 are with the same woman who bore Jaffar and Jermajesty to Jermaine)
Michael: Prince Michael Jr, Paris Michael, and Prince Michael II

A lot of people complain about Apple, Gwyneth Paltrow's little girl, but I think that one's cute. And I'm going to get comments about that. But what I'm afraid of is Demi Moore, mother of Rumor, Scout, and Tallulah, procreating with Ashton.

Hit me up with other fantastic celebrity kid names!

My education WAS worth something!

Whenever I'm feeling bad about myself, like, maybe I'm not smart and interesting enough to have a blog, I read other people's blogs to make myself feel better.

Check out this gem of a blog. Scroll down and read her "Intellegent Writing."

Question of the Day

A friend and I were talking earlier. What would you do if you threw up in an elevator - not in your building, and alone? Not from drinking, but because you were sick. Would you clean it up? Would you call someone? Would you leave it and run? Leave me some comments about it...

Yeah Yeah Yeah

I know that I'm supposed to be blogging about the two big political news events of the day: Bush's nomination of Harriet Miers to the SCOTUS, and the indictment of DeLay on money laundering charges. But I haven't. I feel like I HAVE TO have all sorts of research and background for the blog, and some insights, and just be very scholarly. Which, as you all know, I'm not really. But I can't let this happen without some comment. So here it goes.

Harriet Miers is a non-nominee. Even the Conservatively Leaning Husband is truly mad about this nomination. John Roberts, say what you will, by all accounts has a brilliant legal mind. Harriet Miers, on the other hand, has nothing more than a relationship with Bush to credit her nominee to.

It very much made me happy that the first thing that the Husband said to me this morning was "This is nothing more than cronyism! It's ridiculous!" and when I came in tonight, he said, "It the same thing as if my mom were nominated!" Now his mother is a very smart woman and successful at everything she has done, but I don't want her on the Supreme Court (And, I think that my mother-in-law, who I otherwise think is fantastic, would legislate from the bench). I've asked the husband to guest blog this issue, but he hasn't come up with anything yet. Maybe tomorrow.

And DeLay. I don't have much to say about this except that prosecutor down in Texas has a pair of brass ones. And I like it. And he's probably guilty.

Wonkette and Washingtonienne Beware!

My life is going to be fantastic. Just check out this entry from my friend Kat's blog. She and I went to college together, and we're going to be famous together. But I kind of hate her because my blog, since I set up my hit counter, has only had 96 hits, and hers has had almost 4000. Maybe that's because she blogs more than I do. I'm working on it! I promise. Stop hounding me!

It's New Boss Day!!!!

Wish me luck!

BREAKING NEWS: Sunday, 6:06 PM

I have just diced: 1 yellow sweet onion, 1 white (Colorado!) onion, 1 red pepper, 1 green pepper, and 2 large russet potatos. I have NOT YET cut myself. The carrots, however, lurking in my fridge, might get me.

Stay tuned for further updates!

Flully McFlufferton!

If there's one thing I really like, it's small animals. And if there's one thing I like better than that, it's small animals who have really cute things said about them. The zoo-people have said that this little panda has grown 2 tupperware sizes since they first were able to examine him. If I didn't claim to be not sappy in this blog, I might get really sappy right now...

I asked the Husband if I could have the little guy, and he said yes! But then I read the no-panda clause in our lease and my hopes were dashed.

The little guy was the subject of a naming contest contest that ended on Friday, and his name will be announced in a naming ceremony on the 17th. If they pick something horrid and obvious like Oreo I will be staging a rescue mission and taking the bear home with me, no-panda clause in the lease and all.

Thanks to Ann Althouse for the link.

PS -- I like how his little legs are all tucked up underneath him and his front paws are holding each other! It's like he's posing for a baby picture at the mall...

All Roads Lead to Akron

I was in the middle of this fantastic blog - it was all written and everything, when I found out something startling: Jim Jarmusch, the director of Broken Flowers, the movie that I just saw, is from AKRON.

Also, The Dead Next Door, an Akron classic. I've always wanted to live in a town that a zombie movie is based on.

The home of Goodyear and Firestone, my friend Pete tells me. If I have a blowout, I guess I'm covered.

And, of course, there's this, which my coworker Julie sent to me tonight. I don't really know what to say about it. Really, what can be said? I've always wanted to be a hard core hobbiest.

So, in conclusion, Broken Flowers is a beautifully shot, intelligent, funny, meaningful movie that everyone should see.

And if I move to Akron, I may never be able to leave. With that, I'm going to bed.