It was the funnel cake on the grassy knoll...

What is it about the smell of fried food? Not the taste... but the smell.

I'm not really into fried food anymore. Once you cut it out of your diet, it's difficult to go back. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't eat a piece of fried chicken without getting a tremendous stomach ache. I can peel off the skin and just eat the chicken... but the skin's the best part, right? Come to think of it, I can't eat anything greasy anymore. Don't even think about Mickey D's, Taco Smell, or Greasy Fish. No way. Can't do it.

Fried food, though.... the freaking SMELL is so enticing! I walked out the door of my office building today. Across the way is the evil empire that I shall call MegaLoMart. They have a greasy food court, and they serve corndogs. And I could smell them. I can live without a hotdog. No pig innards for me, thank you (okay, well maybe at a football stadium and only the Fairbury brand). Corndogs, however, are a COMPLETELY different story. Mmmm. Cornmeal batter, dripping off a hot dog, deep-fat fried to a goldeny-browny crisp. Dipped in a little ketchup and/or mustard. You just can't go wrong. Until an hour later when your stomach says, "Oh no you DI-IN'T!"

And then, there's the queen mother of all fried yummy goodness... the funnel cake. Not an ounce of nutrition anywhere in this little nastiness. Just batter squirted in hot oil, into an intricate pattern laced back and forth... then flipped over so more of its surface can bubble and splatter in the hot, hot oil... mmmm. WTF?!?!? This... THIS sounds good to me!?!?

No! They don't SOUND good to me. They SMELL good to me. And apparently, my nose has a more direct line to my brain than, well, my brain does. Here's what I think happens:

Nose: "MMMM.... that smells goo-oo-oood! Let's get some!"
Brain: "No, we don't want that. It's bad for us."
Nose: "But fried food likes us. It's our friend."
Brain: "You don't have any friends. Nobody likes you. Especially not fried food."
Nose: "No, not Fried Food. It's our friend!"

And in a movie-jumping-dialogue-switch, the Nose then turns to some Obi-Wan Kenobi-jedi-mind-trick shit and says:

Nose: "You will buy the funnel cake."
Brain: "We will buy the funnel cake."
Nose: "You will eat the funnel cake."
Brain: "Yes, we will eat the funnel cake."

Nose wins. Stomach loses. Brain sits around thinking, "what the hell just happened?"

My theory is that-- similar to the nicotine that's in cigarettes which makes them addictive-- I believe that there is a "yummy smell" added to fried foods to beguile us, to seduce us into eating them. It's a damn conspiracy. Yeah... that's what it is.

Search terms that found me today: collection agencies mistaken identity (what? is this happening to more of us?)

Random terms for the day: Tootgarook (thanks, dboy!), digital vomit, mini-wheats, Cillian

Photo credit: St. Petersburg Times

Scary search engine hits...

Quick note: if you can't get the comments to work, click on "Links to this post" and try from there. I'm attempting to fix this feature. Sorry for the inconvenience!

One of my favorite features of any blog page I've seen is over at Nabbalicious.com (she's her own DOT.COM now!) For each day of the week, she has her "Favorite Search Engine Hits."

Recently, as I've been tracking site traffic, I've noticed a lot of referrals from search engines to my site. Most of them happen to pick up on something mediocre that I've posted about ("I need to lose weight", "who is Bai Ling," etc.). Some are scarier ("I want shirtless photos of Carmine Gotti Agnello"). Of course, since the searchers aren't using advanced search options, their collections of search terms get them to my page... even though I don't have shirtless photos of Carmine. Thank God.

I came across one yesterday that was just nasty. The search terms appeared as this:

milky pee what's wrong

... and that led the searcher to me. Ewww. I'm hoping that he/she had a nice laugh at my postings and then found the desired information elsewhere. If you're that person and reading this now, you should go see a doctor. No... really.

The other cool thing about tracking hits is finding all the referrals that come from all of YOUR sites. The whole community feeling around here is amazing. I can honestly say that I learn a lot by reading all of you-- it goes beyond mere entertainment, really. So, yay YOU! *big, sappy, smiley grin*

Finally (yes, this is going somewhere), I believe that I will end the next few posts with some completely random mix of terms... just to see who'll stop by next. Yep. I'm just quirky that way. Actually, it's just interesting to see what people are out there searching for...

Random terms for today: Brazil, watermelon, recipe, Hugh Jackman (okay, that's not random... I just love him), Skilling

Ben Franklin, please meet The Laundry Lady...

Benjamin Franklin has been quoted many times, but the most frequently cited is this one: "In this world nothing is certain but death and taxes. "

Well, Ben... obviously, you have never been to my house. If you had, then you would know that the only certainty in this place is LAUNDRY. No matter how much I do, there's always more to wash. How can that be? Do I really have this many clothes? Because, oddly enough, even after I've done several loads of my laundry, there's still nothing to wear. And that's not even counting the Farm Boy, Westley's laundry... or even any of the kids'.*

That means... instead of coming up with some incredibly entertaining post for the day (ha ha), I'll have to settle for a quick list:

5 Amusing Things from this weekend:

1. Went to see Brokeback Mountain with my husband last night. Since I was driving, and we were running late, I told him that I would drop him off to buy the tickets while I parked. All I got was the deer-in-the-headlights look and a "No WAY am I buying tickets to that movie without you glued to my side." That just made me giggle. (and yes, I really enjoyed this movie.)

2. Warning: TMI ahead! Our smallest dog sleeps with us at night. So, obviously, in the lives of two married people, there are times when a dog is not welcome in the bed. In the past, he has been carried out of the room to "wait" outside our door. And he doesn't like it one bit. Recently, he's learned that he can just jump off the bed and wait inside the room, if we don't notice him. The funny part is now, if my husband even reaches over to kiss me goodnight, the dog jumps off the bed until he thinks we're "done."

3. Not that I'm a big celebrity follower or basher, but... what the hell happened to Fergie? I don't really care for her, and I'm absolutely disgusted by her peeing accidents, but seriously. She was somewhat cute at one time. Now, she's just scary looking. We saw her on some tv show, and she looked like the Joker from Batman. About a year ago, she looked her age. Now she looks older than I do.

4. My dad was upset that "our chili" (the 10 gallons of it that my mom and I made for about 4 hours on Friday... and for which he played absolutely no part in cooking) didn't win the chili contest on Friday. He was convinced that the voting was rigged. Really? The chili feed was a fundraiser for a church-sponsored pre-school. And, apparently, they're rigging the votes. Because that framed certificate declaring the 2006 winner must be printed on platinum or something. Good GOD, man! Please find something else to bitch about.

5. None of our four children have been with us since Friday night. A "kid-less" weekend should be a party-laden, drunken, full-fledged celebration of debauchery, right? So, what did we do? We napped yesterday, saw a 7pm movie, came home, and went to bed. Yep. That's just the kind of exciting people we are. Tonight, we'll go to a 5pm hockey game, where I MIGHT just yell at the players to kick some ass. Yep. I'm a wild one. Don't get too close to me... I might taint you with my licentious ways.



*Hubby AND kids are all capable of doing their own laundry. That's really nice... except then we argue over who gets to the washer and dryer first.

Damn you, Nicholas Sparks...

... and damn TBS, too. Why, WHY do they have to play A Walk to Remember just as I'm waking up? (today was the day to sleep in... ah, sweet laziness!) Warning to those with a Y chromosome: chick flick discussion lies ahead. Turn back now, if you choose, before it's too late.

This is a sappy movie. I know that. I've seen it at least a few times before. I really don't need to watch it again, do I?

I can make it through this whole movie without crying... until Landon goes to thank his dad for paying for Jamie's home care. Then... look out. And bring me some freakin' kleenex.

When this movie first came out in theaters, I outright refused to see it. Too cheesy. Then my girls made me watch it with them at home. Eh. Not bad. Developed just the teeniest crush on Shane West. I say "teeniest," because he's a lot too young for me. Now, the guy that plays his dad in the movie, David Lee Smith, mrrrrooowwwww. He was also in Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Yummy.

And... I will also admit that I love Mandy Moore's song, "Only Hope"-- something that I usually would just gag over. My youngest daughter sang this song in her school's talent show last year. We had a whole ROW of people crying in the auditorium. God, we're all saps. Blech.

Don't even get me started on Message in a Bottle. The book alone was tough to get through. Why does Nicholas Sparks enjoy making people sad??? Why, I ask?!!?

I think my next post needs to be about hockey players beating the shit out of each other... or poop. Something definitely not sappy. Yeah.

Modest... to be or not to be, that is the question...

Spent most of the day with my mom today, getting ready for a "chili feed" that she signed us up for. It ended up being not too terribly horrible, but I reek of chili now. My chili didn't win the contest... which is just fine. Plenty of people came up and said it was the best chili they'd ever had. Good enough for me. Ancient secret ingredient: lager. Not plain beer (and most especially not LITE beer).

So, here's what I've been pondering all day. Yesterday, I went to physical therapy twice-- once in the morning for deep-tissue massage, and again later in the afternoon to work with a PT. I've gone to this massage therapist twice now. No biggie. First time with this particular PT, though. When you undress for the massage therapist, they tell you to undress to your "comfort level." So, I leave on the undies and throw the rest on the chair. Really? I do that? Yeah, I guess I do. So, I'm lying down on his massage table almost completely naked... and it isn't bothering me. Hmmm.

What you need to know about me is that I was really shy when I was younger. Not just really. PAINFULLY shy. I couldn't look people in the eyes when spoken to... answered questions with only the required amount of detail. That was it. NEVER initiated conversations. My teachers always told my parents that they really enjoyed me as a student-- bright, very mature for my age. They just wished I could "come out of my shell a little."

Once I got into music and performing on stage, I broke that shell into pieces. I figured out how to deal with the anxiety of talking to people, and now you'd never know I was the same person.

But the one thing that I thought had remained consistent over the years is my modesty. I have never, ever been comfortable showing too much skin. Even during the skinnier years. I had bikinis... I only wore them when tanning... in the privacy of a big backyard with a big fence.

First time I ever had a massage, I kept the bra on. Considering the fact that my back is my problem area, it wasn't that effective with the bra on. The next massage, I became a little braver. But these two therapists were both women. I was a little older and a little bolder. No big deal.

So, cut to the present. The massage therapist is a guy. He's very non-threatening. It's never uncomfortable. And it's really not bothering me at all. Me. The one who went to New Orleans and didn't get ANY beads. The one who has never skinnydipped in her entire life. The one who, only at her very drunkest ever, ran around a fraternity with a bra and jeans on. I know this guy works on 20 naked women a day, and that my "issues" are not even in his main thought processes of the day. I just wonder... when did I become such a brazen hussy LESS modest?

I know this is not a big deal. There are much better posts today about more valuable topics. I just can't get this one thing out of my mind.

Random musings on a lazy day...

5 reasons I'm glad I'm not a dog:

1. Don't have to wait for anyone to feed me.
2. Don't have to search an area and circle around and around and around... just to poop.
3. I can shake hands when I meet someone new... no sniffing of butts involved.
4. Collars are optional.
5. I never get kicked out of bed for putting my cold nose on daddy's chest. ;-)

5 reasons I wish I were a dog:

1. No one would yell at me for sleeping all day.
2. Cold outside? Built-in fur coat.
3. Typical daily schedule: wake up, go outside briefly, play with other dog, eat a little kibble, nap, chase a ball around, eat a little kibble, nap, beg for treats, eat said treats, nap, eat a little kibble, go to bed for the night. No stress.
4. Can hear someone opening an ice cream carton two floors away (okay, well... maybe I can already do that).
5. Everyone in the family would always want to snuggle with me.


On a completely unrelated note, MPB posted the link below on his blog. Here are my results:

You are

What Rejected Crayon Are You?

Yeah. I'm naughty like that. woot!

A whole lotta lovin' is what we'll be bringin', c'mon get happy...

Eerily cheerful... day #2*:

1. Ah, I heart little kids. I work in a school district, but I don't teach anymore. Today, I spent 30 minutes working with two little boys who are struggling in reading. It's kind of an "administration-good-will" program where we go into the schools and help out a little. They're in 4th grade and such cute little guys. That put me in such a good mood today! I should spend an hour in an elementary school every day. It might actually make me smile more often.

2. Gabrielle posted this link to another posting with a great "oh-I-didn't-mean-to-send-that-email-Julia-Roberts-Best-Friend's-Wedding-like-operation" story. Believe me when I say, hilarity ensued.

2a. We use GroupWise for email. As long as you retract a "mistake" PRIOR to anyone opening the email, it's like you never even hit Send. Done it. Still have a job. Yep.

3. No one in my state is talking about using IMPALEMENT as a state-sponsored corporal punishment.

4. Darren gave me a blog award. Screw the Bloggies. This one means ever so much more. Feelin' the love. It's a good thing.

5. Anniversary today. Nice dinner tonight. More smiling later tonight. Although, I must say... the florist must be late. No deliveries to my desk yet. Update! A dozen roses, a Happy Anniversary balloon, an I Love You balloon, and a box of Russell Stover's was delivered to my desk at 2:00pm CST. He loves me. *grin*

It's a good day.

*Photo credit: http://bits.webhs.org/blog/World%20Smile.jpg

I am honestly ill right now... really.

This is not a political blog. You are all free to follow the left or the right... I don't care. I don't mix friends and politics.

BUT... this guy? I'm sick. My stomach literally hurts after reading his webpage. Not because he professes to be a vampyre (yeah, that's not the scary part). I just finished reading Not In Kansas Anymore, by Christine Wicker and learned a few things about them. I don't care if someone thinks he is a vampyre/vampire... or any other-kin (their term that I just learned). The whole Satan follower issue? He's free to worship whoever/whatever he wants in our country. That STILL isn't the scary part.

Just read this guy's campaign site.

I found this while doing some follow-up reading online of Wicker's book. I'm scared shitless. People of Minnesota, good luck.

More in American Idol Ups & Downs...

I can't help it. I have to watch. And then I have to post. My apologies.

Here are the highlights of my night, in no particular order:

1. Helium girl with the pink cowgirl hat. Sweet girl. But where did that voice come from? She's 21? She sounds like she's 6. Sweet girl. Just don't sing again, please. She was so upset... she even took a hug from Seacrest. Actually, he was very cool with her and seemed generally concerned that she was so hurt.

2. Kelly Pickler. Sweet girl. Good, strong voice... can she sing anything other than country, though? We'll find out.

3. The national guard/air force/whatever he was in a military uniform, singing Marvin Gaye. Wow. Absolutely wonderful. Yeah, baby, let's get it ON!

4. "She's out o--------------------------------------------------------f, my li------------fe. Poor Marcus. He thinks good singers just hold a note forever. And ever. Sadly, he's wrong.

5. Paris Bennett... little speaking voice. Amazing singing voice. Beyond amazing. Breathtaking. She's only 17, but she should win. Hands down. Cut the season short. She needs to win.

6. Sammy. Oh, Sammy. The hair. The eyeliner. You came to this audition just to get on TV, didn't you. Take your magic carpet and fly on out of here.

7. Hotty McHotHot-- the guy that sang the Rascal Flats' song, "Broken Road." (the first guy, not the smaller guy) Two words: YUM YUM. The guy was hot... super hot... and he could sing, too. I have a new crush. I don't even know his name (something like Jonathan, but he goes by "Ryan?"). I don't care. I love him. To quote Jurgen, "and angels sang." My hot husband is out of luck. I am swooning.

8. Seth, AKA "Michael Jackson-- Oh, crap. I forgot the words" What the hell was that?!? No, seriously What the HELL was that?

9. Fireman boy-- glad he made it. Don't know why... I'm rooting for the dudes that look like "some dude" but who have decent voices.

10. RHONETTA. 'Nuff said. Well, maybe not... I'm scared. She's really scary. She said something about lighting the town on fire... I think she's serious. That is one scary chick. What the hell did she even sing? Does anyone know? I think I was so frightened by her that my ears just shut off. Girl can swear, though, can't she!

So... there were so many bad ones tonight... I can't even remember them all.

OH! And the chick from New York. The one with the cheating-boyfriend-while-she-was-recovering-from-surgery. She's been on some audition show before. Was it American Idol? What was it? Damn this brain... I can't remember where I've seen her before. SOMEBODY help me remember! I can see her auditioning for something... a dance show maybe? The judges were sitting outside under a tent-like thing. Ack. Photographic memory that doesn't give me enough freaking information!!!! Was it P. Diddy's show on MTV? I think that may be it. Somebody please confirm!!

Back to my cheerful and grumpy self...

Apparently, being grumpy cheers me up. Woot!

Here's my observation of the day:

I love getting comments. I love when people read the blog. I love when newcomers stop by and say "Hey." If they like what I write or feel compelled to share a similar story (or one completely off the subject... I'm not picky!), that's cool. I'm totally cool with that. I'm all for intelligent discussion, expounding and deliberating issues where people don't always agree... emphasis on the word, "intelligent." People aren't going to agree about everything, and agreeing to disagree is just fine with me.

What I don't like is when someone stops by to leave a comment and is nasty about what was written. Or leaves some comment that slams all the other comment-ers. If you don't like what you read, move on. I've done the "Next Blog" button a couple of times. In fact, that's how I found a few of my favorite "Cool Kids." If I happened upon one that I didn't like or whose contents shared opinions directly opposing mine... I left. I moved on. I didn't comment to tell those bloggers how stupid they are/were for feeling the way they do/did. I just moved on. No harm, no foul. I wouldn't just jump on someone's SPACE to slam them when I could just quietly leave...

So far, I don't think anyone has done that here. Someone did today over at Maliavale's place. I don't know what it is in me... but that really set me off. Enough to blog about it (I know, I know! I need a life).

So... what's my point? I truly enjoy reading all your blogs. You're all fun and different in your own way. And if anyone jumps in your space to badmouth you, your interests, your writing... I've got your back. I'm there. I'll strike back with all the venom I have (it may not be much, but I'll spew it anyway). So that's my story today. Yeah. I'm done ranting now. Thanks for listening.

I'm feeling much better now...

... and no, I'm not some dead girl/ghost hiding in a tent with Haley Joel Osment (or grabbing his ankle from my position under the bed... that part FREAKED ME OUT!). BTW, how did I not know that Mischa Barton played the little dead girl whose mom had poisoned her. But I digress... I'm not dead, and life is good.

I'm done feeling sorry for myself. Nothing ever gets accomplished when I do that anyway. So... it's out, and it's over. Yippee! Thanks to Kim and Paisley and Julie for the encouragement.

According to Kim (actually, according to the Edmonton Journal), today is the most depressing day of the year. So, I've got the Winter Blues. Yippee Skippee. Get over it.

Things to be happy about/thankful for:

1. I can end a sentence or phrase in a preposition and not have a cow. It's a blog. There are no rules here.

2. Thursday and Friday are vacation days for me. I'm going to schedule some pampering to help rid myself completely of the Winter Blues.

3. I have a really great husband. And he's hot. And he puts up with me. Did I mention that he's hot?

4. Our kids, ages 12, 13, 14, and 16. (Yeah, I was 12 when the first one was born. Okay... so I'm lying. I was 20 when she was born. Kids having kids. Gah.) They are all good kids. We're both lucky.

5. Relating to #4, we're a blended family of 2+2=4 kids. And they get along. Where did we go RIGHT?

6. I have a job. I don't always like it, but I HAVE A JOB. It pays well, and I should appreciate it more.

7. All the things I want to do but don't have time to do now... they can wait. My kids will only be this age once, and I need to take advantage of this time with them. While they still like me most of the time.

8. Even when money is short at the end of the month (like now), I still had enough to pay all my bills. I've waited years to be able to say/write/type that. SO I can't buy what I want until NEXT week. Oh, well.

9. Being busy all the time is better than having absolutely nothing to do.

10. Did I mention that my husband is HOT? ;-)

Confessions of a middle-aged drama queen...

I really debated about posting anything at all today. Yesterday sucked so much, that the after-effects today are still dragging me down. I hate it when I'm like this. I get in a place that feels so low... and I'm finding it really difficult to climb out right now.

We've been really, REALLY busy at work. Often, I have to work through lunch (at least they're providing us lunch WHILE we work), and I don't get a break through the whole day. I can't quit my job... salary is too good, and I get my health insurance through my employer. Hubby is self-employed, so losing health insurance would be a catastrophic loss in my books. SO, right now, I feel trapped. My life could be SO MUCH WORSE... and I feel like such a whiner for even feeling this way. But I do.

My "very amicable" relationship with my ex is going down the toilet. He's straining his relationship with his daughters by being inflexible about things, and I'm caught in the middle. My husband (the Farm Boy, Westley) and I are constantly running from one activity to the next for our four kids (his two plus my two). His kids live almost 90 miles (about 145 km) away, so there's a lot of driving involved.

For those of you old enough to remember the Calgon bubble bath commercials of the early 80s... that's what I feel like everyday. I need to escape for a little while. Not forever. Not even for a long period of time. I just need a break. I've been telling my husband that for weeks now. Yesterday, I fell apart.

Went to church in the morning... no problem. Went to my parents' house for brunch, and things started to unravel. My dad started in about stuff at church, my sister was being a total bitch (which is her MO. It shouldn't be an issue, because this is how she is. Always. I know this. I usually deal with this fine.). I tried to ask my husband for something, but it came across as me yelling at him (rather than TO him), so he walked away from me. My sister said something bitchy about me, and I felt the tears starting... so I left. I didn't say anything to anyone. I grabbed my purse, walked out the door, and left. I went home and started cleaning the kitchen (that was a total disaster, btw, because the two youngest girls made choc. chip cookies the night before and didn't put ANYTHING away. Not even the brown sugar. Do you know what happens to brown sugar when it sits open, on a counter, all night long!?!?). And I cried the whole time. The phone rang twice... "where are you?"... and I ignored it. Hubby came home. I yelled. He yelled. I shrieked. And then shrieked some more. More crying. God, the whole thing just sucked rope.

Luckily, he's the cool kind of guy that just apologized... tried to make me feel better. He took control of the kids for the rest of the day. And I continued to clean (too bad I don't get this way more often. My house would look a lot better, and then one less stressor would be out of the way). My face was so swollen and red from crying, I looked like I'd been beaten. While cleaning, I made lunch and later dinner. Kept cleaning. Finally went to bed. Today, my eyes still hurt from so much crying. My head is achy. AND I DON'T FEEL ANY BETTER ABOUT ANY OF IT.

As I sit here, I'm still fighting back tears. Now comes the really sucky part. The rational part of me is pissed. "Quit being such a big baby. Get over yourself. Your life is so good, and you are so lucky, but here you sit and whine and whine. PMS was LAST week, you stupid, f$%#ing baby. The drama is in your head. Shit, your bangs even look good today. What is your effing problem!?!?!?" I hate that rational personality. I really want her to go away so I can schlump around feeling sorry for myself.

So, that's what it comes down to. What IS my problem? No, it's not depression. Been there. Done that. I think I'm just overwhelmed right now. Doing too much. Trying to be Wonder Woman, and I can't fit into her metal bustier. I have Thursday and Friday off this week. I'm really hoping that will help. I'm going to schedule some appointments with the physical therapist for one of those days, since I haven't been back since before Christmas. That could help, too. At any rate, I have to get over this, because I really hate whining about my life when I have so much to be thankful for. *cue tears again, dammit!* Maybe I should schedule a night at the local soup kitchen or women's shelter to put things in perspective.

Sometimes, you have to be a grown-up...

It was another loooonnng week at work with many "working lunches." So, I was looking to have a few cocktails last night while spectating at my local semi-pro hockey arena. EXCEPT... I had my youngest daughter with me. Oops. I can have a drink, but probably only one. ONE!?!?! Nooooooooooooooooo!

Hi. My name is Don't Call Me M. And I am a grown-up. *shudder* I straight-out refuse to get drunk in front of my children--biological, step, or otherwise (otherwise? do I have kids that I don't know about? Am I even sure that I'm the mother of my kids? or did their dad pull a fast one on me?!?!). And as I've posted before, I am a lightweight. In college, I drank the football players under the table. They all passed out, and I was still standing (cue Sir Elton). But now, two drinks make me goofy. And loud.

So, I settled for one drink. Still made sure the hubby drove after the game... as we practice what we preach at my house. "No driving after drinking of any kind." boo.

Oh, and I had to watch my language at the game, too. I couldn't even yell, "Kick his ASS, Brandon!" because there were two even littler kids in front of us last night. Darn it. See... I'm still restraining myself yet this morning! Gah!

The good news is that the girl who mixed my drink last night turned me on to something new... and I don't even know what it's called! Skyy Berry, orange juice, Diet 7-Up, and grenadine. Mmmmmmm... tasty.

I guess that... if the worst thing in my life on a Friday night is that I sit and watch a hockey game sober with one of my kids... I must have a pretty freaking good life. Yep, that makes me a grown-up. I guess I can live with that.

Side note: the old guy that has to card everyone to put the "pretty" white wristband on those 21 and over looked at my driver's license, stared at the date, looked at me, and said, "Gee. You don't look THAT old." Should I feel complimented that I look younger than I am? or should be outraged that some old codger thinks I'M old?!?!? What a dilemma.

Sappy entry # gazillion-and-three from me...

1. I'm a sap.
2. I used to be a music teacher... which I've posted/commented about before.
3. Music MOVES me... not just lyrics, not just singing. All of it.
4. I'm a really, really big sap.

One of my all time favorite songs is "Don't Stop Me Now," by Queen, words and music by Freddie Mercury. Today, as I listen to this song at my desk, it's making me cry. I have NO idea why... and I don't cry at work. Usually, these feelings are reserved for songs like John Lennon's "Imagine," Elton John's "I Want Love," Ewan McGregor's version of "Your Song" from Moulin Rouge... or some other tune that is truly heartwrenching. But Queen? What is wrong with me? This is the song that I use to get moving, pumped up, ready to do battle, workout... anything that requires oodles of energy.

As I sit and try to analyze this, I think of two possible reasons:

Reason 1- I watched a documentary on TLC about a man with Dystrophic Epidermolysis Bullosa. His name was Jonny Kennedy, and the title of the show was "The Boy Whose Skin Fell Off." (it's actually a BBC docu). This was a great docu, but also really hard to watch. DEB is an absolutely horrendous disease. But Jonny's outlook on life was so incredible... and "Don't Stop Me Now" was his theme song. He was a huge Queen fan, but this one song was his song... he even had it played at his funeral. So now, I think of Jonny when I hear this song.

Reason 2- Freddie Mercury's voice. I don't care what anyone thinks (or thought) about this man... he had the best singing voice EV-ERRRRR. The expression that he could achieve was unmatched, I think, by any singer I've ever heard (and I've listened to more than your average music lover). Don't believe me? Listen to Queen's "Somebody to Love" or "Who Wants to Live Forever." The guy just had an absolutely tremendous voice. I think about his last days, and the videos they have of him trying to get through his last-ever recordings... snd it just makes me terribly sad.

I'm not trying to bum anyone out, but this is just what I'm thinking about today. Two men, ultimately "stopped" by the diseases that took their lives... but yet they're still going strong.

"Don’t stop me now, I’m having such a good time, I’m having a ball
Don’t stop me now, If you wanna have a good time, just give me a call
Don’t stop me now (’cause I’m havin’ a good time),
Don’t stop me now (yes I’m havin’ a good time),
I don’t want to stop at all."

Observations of a perpetual grump...

1. Some people are liars. They tell other people that they are good singers. THEY LIE. Why do they lie? Because then they just give these people false hope. And false hope leads to... an American Idol audition. Dear Sweet Lord, just kill me. While some of the singers (the 16-yr-old twins-- WOW.) are actually very, very good... the majority of these people are bad. No, not bad... Awful. Atrocious. Abominable. Ghastly.

Eric (the one with the trashy grandma)... his music teacher told him he would go far in music. I'm really hoping that by "far," he/she only meant, "Go FAR away, so no one can hear you."

The Christina/Pink/Britney-wanna-be who had the same eye makeup as her W.T.* mother (who was wearing a mini-skirt? ewww... old, trashy moms should NOT wear mini-skirts!)--- she said her life is entertainment? Yeah, entertainment in a Gentlemen's Club. And I use the word, "gentlemen" very, very loosely. GGW** is just waiting for this one!

The Blue Moon girl? Just stop singing. Just stop. No... stop. STOP! Scotty don't! Go away now. No, don't start over. Oh... she started over. Again. Please. Just stop. Stop the insanity.

"I Shot the Sheriff" officer/patrolman-- it was like the old-time record players with a scratch that kept bumping him back to the same line over and over again. Painfully. "I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy-ey-i-ey-yay-eh." Repeat. Repeat. Lather, rinse, REPEAT. Eeek.

Oh, and Simon was exceptionally cruel tonight. What he told that poor kid about shaving and becoming a female impersonator? The guy wasn't THAT bad.

I don't know why I make myself watch this show. It's like a trainwreck. I. Can't. Stop. Watching. The. Horror. (say that again, but with a William Shatner/Captain Kirk voice... it's much more fun)

2. I just heard on the news that a woman in Tucson, AZ (? I think?) just gave birth to a baby. Why did this make the news? Because she didn't know she was pregnant. As in, until she was in the process of giving birth. Didn't know. Not a clue. She noticed that she gained some weight, and she felt a little funny the last few months. But she didn't notice anything "unusual." I'm stunned. Maybe it's because I've had two children. And let me just say for the record, YA KNOW. You can't stop eating. You are over-the-top with the rollercoaster emotions. Your boobs hurt. You have to use the potty... a lot. Oh, and the cute little munchkin inside you kicks the living shit out of every internal organ. Sometimes, you can even see the imprint of a little foot pressing into your skin (it's not like Alien-creepy... it's very cool). So, unless you weigh like, a GAZILLION pounds, it's literally impossible not to know. This lady was overweight, but not so much so that she wouldn't feel anything. I know this is not a new phenomenon. In fact, it happens quite often. I just want to know HOW. Not that I'll ever get pregnant again... just wanna know. I can't find a link anywhere for this... yet. I'll update when I do.


*White Trash
**Girls Gone Wild

SMART goals... revised.

My previous SMART goals didn't work so great. I did lose the 5 lbs I wanted to lose by December 31, but I gained back 2. It was the holidays. Oh, well. But even the slight weight loss didn't make that much of a difference.

One of the goals was to work out at least twice a week for at LEAST 30 minutes a session. That was the major problem. Food isn't always much of an issue for me. I'm a fairly healthy eater... even though I have a softspot for pastries, my willpower overcomes that weakness easily. I didn't get the workouts in, though! With our schedules, finding a 30 minute block is actually rather difficult. Instead of just finding a few minutes here or there (which I COULD do), I just waited until I did have 30 minutes of dedicated time. That failed miserably.

My job is extremely stressful right now, and I SIT a lot at work. I might be running from one building to another, but I'm still sitting 95% of the time. By the time I'm home, I'm exhausted. Hopping on the treadmill is the LAST thing I want to do.

So... here are my new and improved SMART goals. I think they're more realistic, and I'm not going to focus on how much weight I lose. My focus is to improve my health by more exercise, and I'm going to get moving gradually.

1. Week of January 16-20: wake up 30 minutes earlier and do 10-15 minutes cardio or strength-training each morning. This morning was strength; tomorrow will be cardio. That can be jumping jacks, jumping rope, or treadmill. At night, I will do another 15 minutes of strength-training.

2. Week of January 23-27: continue with morning schedule; increase evening activity to include at least 10 minutes of cardio.

In between the morning and evening mini-sessions, I'm also going to make myself walk away from my desk and move around for about 5 minutes or so... just around the perimeter of the office area. A brisk 5 min. walk four or five times a day should do wonders for my spirits, as well as my eyes (damn you, computer monitor!!!).

I asked the Farm Boy, Westley to bring the treadmill out of our back office/storage area--which does have a TV, but is so remote from the rest of the house that I can't get to a phone or kids or the front door very easily. Too easy to make an excuse not to do it. Moving the treadmill into our family room will remove those logistical excuses.

I know that I CAN do this. I'm only 15 lbs overweight, which seems like nothing to most people. But I know I'm not healthy, and it's only going to get worse if I don't tackle it now. It would be nice to fit into ALL my clothes again... not just the comfy clothes (read here: FAT pants).

You, Internets, can help me by asking me how things are coming. I'm a terrible liar, and I will feel like a loser if I have to say, "No, I didn't exercise at all today." Maybe I should strap the ol' laptop to the treadmill and blog from there. (Hey! Not a bad idea!) Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi INTERNETS! You're my only hope.

You killed my father... prepare to die.

This is my new baby. His name is Inigo Montoya. He is a betta.... isn't he dashing? He is, however, not as good a photo subject as my two furry babies. He moves around too quickly, and many of my shots are blurry. Here he is, all puffed out, thinking that his reflection is another rival male. Silly fish.

Mistaken identity is still a pain in the arse…

There is at least one other person in my city who has the exact same first and last names as I… not surprising. Both names are pretty common. We have different initials, though. I’m Grumpy K. Frump, and she’s Grumpy L. Frump.

Apparently “L,” does not pay her bills… and her phone has been disconnected or changed—it is unlisted. So, when collection agencies cannot reach her, they do a phone search through online search tools. AND THEN THEY CALL ME.

For the last six months, I have been dealing with this. USBanx (the name has been changed to protect the annoying allegedly innocent) has called my house more than 8 times asking for her substantial balance to be paid off. We go through the whole spiel: “What’s your middle initial? What’s your birthdate? What’s your home address?” As each tele-nazi asks these questions, I have patiently and politely answered. Then I ask them to take my number of their lists, since it is obviously a case of WRONG NUMBER. I have talked to supervisors and asked them to flag my phone number as NOT the number of the guilty party. They called again yesterday at 7:50am. Apparently, each new agent that is unable to find her does another phone lookup... and gets me. Again.

Another collection agency rang almost immediately after I hung up with USBanx yesterday AM. This was a collection agent for the state university Medical Center…. for which I have been a patient. The person on the other end of the line says, “Good morning. May I please speak to Grumpy?” I answer that I am Grumpy. He tells me, “I’m calling in regard to your outstanding balance with the Med Center in the amount of $3000.” As my jaw hits the floor and I panic (did I forget something? Did my insurance refuse part of my surgery?), a little bird says, “Hey, stupid. They’ve called before, remember? They’re looking for the same loser the other guys want.” So, I ask if they’re looking for “K” or “L.” After verifying my birthdate and address, the guy says he’ll look into this and call back… which he never does.

This whole process made me 45 minutes late to work yesterday. When I arrived to work yesterday, I called the state med center and asked them to clear it up with their collections. That took another hour while I was at work. Nearly two hours wasted on this lunacy!

So, boys and girls, the moral of the story is… if you have a doppelganger (at least a NAME doppelganger)...

pay your bills.

Or else.
Do you hear that Grumpy L. Frump? I know that your birthday is April 17, 1968 (ha! You're older than I am!). You're wasting my time, and my patience is gone. I know what it's like to be unable to pay all debts... been there, done that. But I didn't hide from my debt collectors. Stand up and take it like a true Frump!

People who are older than I am...

This list just makes ME feel better (mostly, because I didn't know they were all older).

in no particular order:
1. Will Ferrell
2. Christy Turlington
3. Two-thirds of the FRIENDS cast
4. Owen Wilson
5. Jamie Foxx
6. Nicole Kidman
7. Verne Troyer (Mini-Me)-- yikes! I thought he was YEARS older!
8. Marilyn Manson
9. Ben Stiller
10. Sean Connery (yeeesh... I hope so!)

Just livin' up to the name of my blog...

Dear young man behind me this evening in traffic,
I'm sure you would consider me old. Even though I'm not even technically, officially middle-aged (yet), I'm sure you think I'm ancient.

My fashion sense is probably laughable to you. Me, in my business attire compared to you in your b-ball jersey (homage to some overpaid, crybaby athlete), slouchy-sagging jeans (I'm guessing, because I can't actually SEE them), and slammin' baseball cap cocked off to one side... I just can't measure up to the tight togs you be sportin'.

Additionally, you probably consider my minivan a loser cruiser (as do I). Your rust-bucket, used-to-be white 81 Chevy blazer is way more chill.

The truth is, I still loves me a good, raunchy comedy... I love loud metal, loud alternative, loud grunge... basically loud music altogether. I've come home half-deaf from concerts, and the ringing in my ears stuck around for a few days as a sweet souvenir. I'm not so much the stuffy soccer mom you probably think I am.

So, believe me when I tell you, in all honesty, as someone who enjoys some outright deafening tunes, if YOUR piece-of-shit-car is so tricked out with woofers that could send sound waves equal to an atomic blast... IT'S TOO LOUD!!!! I'm totally cool with you abusing your own eardrums. I'm down with that, homey. True dat. But the driver's seat in my loser cruiser was actually shaking. My stomach hurt, and my ears felt like they were going to implode (I think they were bleeding anyway). It's time to turn the volume down from, oh I don't know, INFINITY, to somewhere in the 10s to 20s. 'Kay? Word. Dude.

Sincerely,
The old biddy in the vehicle in front of you on 144th & F Streets today, 5:17pm

Instead of sleep, I'm doing this...

I'm too tired to post anything deep, so I'll do that tomorrow. In the mean time...

Two new fun sites for playing, when you should be
a) working
b) cooking
c) helping children with homework
d) sleeping
e) all/any of the above

Fun Site #1- Penguin Baseball (thanks to MPB!)
http://n.ethz.ch/student/mkos/pinguin.swf
My high score is 322.9 (eat it, suckuhs!)

Fun Site #2- Create your own South Park character.

http://spstudio.julia.hosting-friends.de/spstudio.html

UPDATED: The top set was created by the Farm Boy, Westley. He was kinder to me... and he put a hat on me. I rarely wear hats (except for on a cruise ship when its like a requirement for all women).The bottom pics are my artistry (and what we probably really look like).

I did it!!!

You heard it here first...

Today, at lunch, I finished a WHOLE Chipotle burrito (black beans, rice, lettuce, cheese, and a little sour cream)... for the first time ever.

I've mentioned before that I could only ever eat about half of a burrito, and then cry (yes, like a little bitch). Oddly enough, the planets were aligned properly or something. I didn't get dinner last night and only had a Kashi bar for breakfast. Therefore, I was absolutely famished this afternoon.

I'm celebrating tonight with a glass or ten of my favorite wine.

A shoutout to the King...

Happy Birthday, Elvis. I know you're out there somewhere (and most likely, reading my blog)... so I hope it was a good one.

My birthday was pretty decent. I got some good stuff. Enough said.

Questions I have before the end of the evening....

1. Why do I dread going to work all the time? Maybe I need to find a new job. But this one pays REALLY well. In fact, almost well enough to erase all my dread. Almost.

2. Is there a support group for Shop-a-holics? (assuming I WANT to be helped)-- I might need one someday.

3. Where the HELL is MPB? Anyone? Anyone? (Bueller? Bueller?) People should just NOT disappear without saying anything. It's unhealthy for the rest of us. Same goes for Nikki and DBoy. Did he get that job? No news is... maddening.

4. If you eat Quiche Lorraine for brunch/lunch, but no one sees you, did the calories really happen?

5. If said calories did happen, how many leg lifts, jumping jacks, and minutes on the treadmill do I have to do to work them off? (I'm not even going to mention the tiny piece of birthday cake I ate)

A big Thank You to my mom... for not putting the exact number of candles on my cake. You ROCK, Mom! (like I'd ever give her the URL to BloggyLand... HA!)

And a final shoutout to my Farm Boy, Westley (aka MR. Don't Call Me MA'AM)... even though I have yet to lose the 15 lbs I gained after the trip to Steroidsville.... and after listening to me whine non-stop about the extra flab around my middle.... he still tells me I'm beautiful every single day. What a man, what a man, what a mighty good man. Oh, and he's hot. yeah, baby!

Focker OUT!

They say it's my birthday...

When your birthday is just two weeks after Christmas, and you have little else to celebrate the neverending gloriousness that is YOU for the rest of the year... you have a tendency to make a big deal of your birthday.

So... I AM.

Happy Birthday to me, Internets. *cheesy grin*

Thanks to John, Paul, George, and Ringo for their wishes, too!


Picture is of my grandpa and me with my new skunk. I had that skunk for yyyyyeeeeeeaaaarrrrrssssssss.

At the end of the day...

• I'm glad work is done for the week.
• I'm ecstatic that I got my birthday present to myself today! (yay! thanks, jurgen!!!)
• I'm looking forward to some GNARLY Hockey fights tonight! woot!
• I'm tickled that I found a way to incorporate "gnarly" into a sentence. heh heh
• I'm wishy-washy about my birthday tomorrow. Yes, I get to be Queen for the weekend, but I'm already old enough. gah

Happy Friday, chums (or is it "chumps?")....

Five more years of looking like I’m stoned….

I went to the DMV today to renew my driver’s license. My observations:

1) Everyone. Was. So. Nice. When was the last time THAT happened at a DMV? Maybe they were just mirroring my sparkling personality and bubbly mood… or maybe the planets are aligned just right… or maybe the End of Times is near… I don’t know. I’m just pleasantly amazed.

2) My sister told me that you’re not allowed to smile anymore for your DL pic. She said that it actually distorts what you look like when a cop pulls you over. So, I didn’t smile. Instead, I sort of pursed my lips for some unknown reason. Now I have this little, itty-bitty mouth in the middle of a giant face. I called my husband to complain about it, and he called me “such a girl” for worrying about my DL pic. Like that isn’t important?!?!?! (he’s the one that’s stoned apparently)

3) My sister is full of shit. The lady after me grinned like the freaking Cheshire. So, I look like I’m half pissed off and half stoned while this other lady looks like a nice, jolly person. Gah.

4) You’d think with all the technology advances in this year of Two Thousand and Six that they could come up with a better photo system. Seriously. “Face the camera and look at the tweety bird.” WHAT? There’s a Tweety Bird sticker just below the lens of the camera. A stick-URR. Not that I’m expecting some birdie hologram or anything like that. But COME ON!?! A sticker. Lame. Very lame.

5) Arrival time at DMV-- 11:10am. Departure time from DMV-- 11:20am. It's a new world record (for me anyway)! There must have been some time warp or something that everyone else was stuck in today, except for me. No lines of smelly people waiting and cursing about how long they've been waiting. I skipped into the Examiner's office (tra la la... no tickets for me=no test for me! yippee!) and then shimmied over to the county treasurer's office ($23.75 for a license?!? are you freaking kidding me? Nope. They weren't). Still, I had time for lunch before going back to the prison... I mean, OFFICE.

All in all... a shocking, but halfway pleasant experience. As Pepper Brooks says, "I feel shocked."

Lists, lists, lists....

Lists are everywhere. Just look around.

Everyone's blogging some sort of list. I have to make lists at work- electronic lists AND handwritten lists. My grandfather made a list of my faults on Christmas Day (apparently, I'm getting fatter than my sister who outweighs me by 30lbs). I'm SOOOO sick of lists!

Here are 5 things I'm sick of, in addition to lists:

1. Work. We should have Christmas vacation for 9 or 10 months out of the year, and then work the rest. I'm really good at getting things done at the last minute.

2. Trying to lose 15 lbs. I lost five. I gained 2 back.

3. Being a lightweight. Obviously, this is not a reference to my weight (if you're confused, see #2), but one to my drinking ability. I used to drink football players under the table. Now, two glasses of wine, and I'm gone. One margarita... woohee. I'm the parrrrty girl. Don't even bring anything stronger at me. I can't take it. I'm such a little bitch now! *wails*

4. Whiny people. We had a biggg training session today when over 1500 people were getting trained at the same time. Hitting the same server. Dragging said server to the speed of a sleepy tree sloth. This is what I heard all day: "Can't you fix it?" NO. I can't fix it. Quit. Whining. (wait... does this count as whining? 'Cause I can TOTALLY handle my own whining. Not sick of that at all)

5. Disney's "That's So Raven." Okay, so I don't hate Raven (the cute little tiny tot they brought in to increase the Cosby Show's cuteness factor once Ruby got a little older). She's actually a pretty decent role model for young TWEEN girls. She's not anorexic, she doesn't dress like a skeeze (read here: Britney), and she's a pretty good singer. I am just really, REALLY sick of her show... which is on Disney 24/7... and constantly playing at my house. I swear... everytime I turn on the TV... no matter which room I'm in... the effin' thing comes up with that freaking Raven show. For the love of Bob, PLEASE play something else. Please. "Aw, SNAP... you little nasteh!" It's on again. I can hear the theme song right now. I'm going for the sledgehammer.

Oh, and I'm trying to find some new format for this bloggy thing. Maybe if I were a better artist, I could come up with something. Maybe Guru will find me one of his animator artist friends. I'm sure SOMEONE can help.

First day back to work...

So, I'm tired. I couldn't sleep at all last night (finally dropped off somewhere around 2:30am). Late night TV is oh, so entertaining. I watched a woman with half a body (she rocks!) and then some super surgeries for people with hemangiomas. I don't recommend watching surgery shows before drifting off to sleep. The resulting "dreamage" is not good.

Why, then, am I still online? Why is this freaking Internet ruling my life???

I hated my blog template. So I switched. I hated my cartoon picture of me (although, oddly accurate). So I changed it. Hope you like my hands (nabb... would this make your project? haha!)

I'll work more this week (maybe even tomorrow) on making this look less like a cookie cutter place and more like me. If I figure out what that might be....

Oh, yeah. And work sucked today. Badly. Out of my 210 workday contract, I have only put away 93 days. WHAT?!?!?! C'mon! I thought I was at LEAST half-way through? Merde!

Last day of vacation...

I promised myself that I was going to use my holiday vacation this year to just RELAX... and that's exactly what I've done. Other than some laundry and a little baking, I've done nothing but hang out with family, catch a few flicks, and SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

It's catching... even the dogs have the same idea. I'm calling the pic on the right, "Busted." That is Diego, my chihuahua, snoozing on MY pillow. He opened his eyes right when the flash went off. The second pic is Paco. He is the reason that all our bedcovers are full of fur.



We're off to go see The Producers. Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick, Uma Thurman, and Will Farrell? It HAS to be good.