Psychic Update 1/31

Meatballs. That was the answer to "What am I thinking right now?" wasn't it?

I'm trying to finish the first book, but it's slow going. It's interesting stuff, but I'm reading it in bed and it's not the kind of thing you can just skim and absorb. I end up getting sleepy after a couple of pages.

I did have a dream last night that a friend revamped her blog to be about restaurant reviews - "Meal Vehicle," it was called. (It rhymed much better in my dream - "meal" was pronounced mee-uhl - two distinct syllables.)

I also dreamt that I was on another cruise with my mother and she was buying me Hello Kitty no-skid slipper socks at the gift shop. I'm excited to find out if either dream becomes reality.

So far, the book talks a lot about intuition and tuning into and trusting that inner voice, and that all things in the world have a specific vibration. You know, that you can tune into.

There are two exercises in the book I haven't done yet - I look forward to giving those a try. Maybe had I already practiced a little, I'd have known that David was headed to the UK for an extended stay, or that I wouldn't really need to rush to make a last-minute appointment yesterday because she'd ultimately end up canceling.

Limey Husband

David leaves on Monday for Nottingham for at least a month, maybe until sometime in August. I'm excited for him and really bummed, as now I'm going to have to lift all the heavy stuff myself.

Then I thought it would be fun to drop a few pounds while he's gone and get back into shape - something that always seems easier to do when you're not cooking/buying groceries for two or having to have dinner every night.

And then I thought, what if for the first month I'm very sad and end up eating crates of Krispy-Kremes and end up putting on 20lbs, and then suddenly his project ends and he's back home.

Lucas Wolves

Last night I dreamt that we went to a big LucasArts shindig - a fancy, dress-up thing - in a huge, open air amphitheater. Kinda like Shoreline, but much bigger, and there was no stage or chairs - the whole thing was a big, grassy, stepped amphitheater.

We were down in the main area milling around with thousands of other people when I decided I needed to go find my shoes. I'd lost my strappy slingback heels and I was mad.

In my little black dress I ran up the wide, grassy steps, crowded with people on either side of the aisle, and at the top, found a bunch of animals all curled up, asleep in a heap. Stray cats in one heap, and I think there were tigers in another.

I passed them on my way to wherever I thought my shoes might be and suddenly encountered a pack of wolves. There were still a few people wandering about up there, but they were off in the distance.

Right in front of me stood a large, snarling, growling wolf. I started flipping out and screaming for my friend's sister, Suzie. SUZIE! SUZIE! I haven't seen Suzie in about a year, but apparently she's a wolf expert and only person you want in such a situation.

Suzie came from out of nowhere to escort me away from the wolf, who hadn't moved at all since I walked up on it. Problem solved. Thanks Suzie.

ClownPenis.Fart

Because having a good URL is important.

Hey, Migraine

I thought I was clear before - I don't want to see you anymore. I know we've been off & on for years, but our situation wasn't healthy for me. I've moved on.

Me and General Tension Headache have been together for a while now and it's going well. He stops by now & then and reminds me to buy more Advil. It's no Love Story, but it's safe.

When you first came by this morning I didn't even realize it was you. I thought you were Sinus Headache, another loser I've asked not to call me anymore.

You guys sometimes look alike - I'm not being racist - you both come from about the same place and it can be hard to tell you apart.

But before too long I knew it was you when you had to go and destroy the left side of my face. Was the baseball bat to the cheekbone really necessary? I get it - there's almost no analgesic you can't defeat - but no one likes a showoff.

And the hot and cold thing - so ass. On top of the bone-crushing pain, you have to mess with my thermostat. Lame. It doesn't add much to your big show. Ooh! - covers on, covers off - big deal.

Go ahead and add nausea to the whole thing, but follow through. Like always, you couldn't stick with it and I was left unfulfilled. The throwing up can be the best part. But again, all that build up and then - poof - nothing - you couldn't keep it up.

The best part, for me, was that I didn't need help getting rid of you. Maybe you got bored with the resting, deep breathing and water drinking.

Of course, you overstayed your welcome by several hours, and then you left like the spineless ass you are, quietly slipping away without a word.

What the French?

Toast?

I am so hungry.

Mmm... Steamed Vegetables

On these cold, damp winter days, I can't think of any food group I want less to do with than vegetables.

I was just reading a recipe that included steamed vegetables and the idea of sitting down to a plate of that made me wince.

Maybe if those veggies were then pureed and added to a hearty base of potato leek soup, or perhaps folded gently into a cheesy, creamy macaroni casserole-type dish, or maybe thrown out into the yard for the squirrels.

The other day I stumbled upon a rather satisfying new breakfast concoction that's perfect for this time of year.

We had some leftover smashed potatoes to which I'd had the foresight to add the "fairy dust of food" - chopped bacon (sorry vegans). Now, we all know that eggs and potatoes are great together - but even better: eggs, potatoes and BACON.

So into the skillet goes a little butter, then the leftover smashed, bacony-good potatoes. Let those warm up and if you like, get a little color, but don't stir them - just move them around gently - keep them "clumpy." Once the potatoes are heated through, throw in your scrambled eggs and cook just until almost done - don't dry 'em out.

Season to taste and enjoy. Research proves that this recipe works well with any leftover potatoes.

Are We Still in California?

snow on highway 35, 2001

Woke up this morning to radio reports of road closures due to snow! And of course, now I want to drive down those roads to go see the snow.

I could totally do it, too. I have an AWD wagon O fun.

Bummed

There's no other word for it. We were bummed yesterday. Maybe being so soon after losing someone in our own little world at a young age and again in a way that seems to make no sense, it's very sad. Another kid growing up without a dad, another family torn apart.

I think I read every news wire's report about it thinking one of them would have information that might explain why - something I couldn't do last month. But none of them had any answers. And even if they did, I doubt it would help. I keep thinking it will, but in the end, they're just gone - nothing changes that.

And again, time will move on.

WTF, Heath?

Dead at 28? What the hell is going on?

Loved Lords of Dogtown, because of Heath. What a shame.

Furry Diffusion

Tonight David and I tried to have a perfectly good stupid argument but were continually interrupted by a meowing kitten rolling around at our feet.

She does not enjoy raised voices, or voices that aren't talking directly to her or about her.

We were forced to abandon our argument before we could get it started. We both had half-baked positions we were set on defending with hollow logic and circular blaming tactics, but couldn't stay focused on our lameness long enough to build up the necessary momentum.

Not even a minute into it we realized it wasn't going to happen and our focus shifted back to the only priority there is - serving The Kitten, always and forever.

Snow!

Snow in the forecast - in the Bay Area. If only it would snow in SF - with all the hills - hilarious.

Comanche Ass

We've watched 2 of the 3 episodes of the prequel to "Lonesome Dove," and so far, it's done little more than remind us that women were mostly just property or whores. Who doesn't love more stories like that!?

Though if we were lucky to marry rich or come from money, we could avoid whoring and become slutty bitches or run our daddy's dry goods shop.

And if you were lucky enough to be a Comanche woman, you had the job of beating the captives, but that's all we've learned so far about their majestic role in Comanche life.

The male characters aren't much better, except Val Kilmer's Scull. Kilmer plays crazy really well, and he's funny. Even with a bit of a belly, he's still kinda hot. It's that sparkle in his eye.

But the other boys love the life of "rangerin" and caint imagine doin nuthin else. Except "poke" women and avoid any real responsibility on the home front. Sounds fun - for boys.

The whore with the heart of gold (seriously) gets preggy and knows the father is Ranger Woodrow, who doesn't intend to marry her and doesn't believe it's his child. Like somehow he's absolved from any responsibility, even though he's been sleeping with her but gettin it for free.

Steve Zahn's character is funny and seems smart, until he's poking Scull's wife. He claims to love the sweet shop girl Clara and wants to marry her, but when Scull's wife - the slutty bitch - tells him Clara *may* have married his rival, his pants fly right off, and why wouldn't they?

Why would he doubt a scheming nympho who practices her shooting by firing at fine china thrown off the balcony? Of course, the moment you think your true love might have gone off with another, forget about finding out the truth - just sleep with the first woman you see - that's always the right move.

Then the Comanches raid the town and rape all the women they find. When a Ranger comes home to find his wife has survived being shot with arrows but is now "ruined," he hangs himself - but that's after he asks her to help him off with his boots. Because, you know, he's had a hard day of rangerin.

I had the same issues with Deadwood, but after a few episodes, the women in the story became strong, deep characters and whatever they were - whores, aristocrats, drunks or loving wives- was just part of their complex characters. They were as involved in the story as the men and weren't left sitting on a porch pining for their rangers saying simple things like, "It's hard..." while looking wistfully into the dusty road.

The silliest thing by far was the blue & gold macaw that came flying out of nowhere to scare a bad guy off a high cliff making him fall to his death. Not a whole lotta tropical forests in those parts, but it's always fun to see a parrot in a movie, right? None of that crap made any sense at all.

Go ahead and write a fun cowboy movie, but christ, leave the women out of it if this is the best you can do by us. "It's hard..."

Tatiana Did Us a Favor

Thanks to a few stupid teenagers, a beautiful tiger is dead. A kid is also dead, but if he was taunting her, he paid the ultimate price for being a thoughtless jackass, and good riddance.

The surviving kids should be charged with manslaughter. They should also be punished for what happened to the tiger.

Squeeze them and their parents into fresh, tailored meat suits, throw them into the pit and let the tigers do what they will. That's one thing that might motivate me to visit a zoo.

Open House Buffet

Yesterday I learned that you can cruise through all the open houses in your neighborhood and get a free lunch while seeing how other people decorate their homes.

I had to shoot a couple of open homes in the same town and couldn't believe how many people came through and went straight to the kitchen to grab handfuls of cookies and fruit then quickly walk through the house, chewing, before running out the door, still chewing.

If I was shooting a room they wanted to see, they'd wander in without any realization that they might be in the way or holding up someone's job. Just get the cookies and look like you're interested - that's all that matters. GET THE COOKIES!

All the Plants Will Die

You can't go Dennis - all the plants will die.

It was weird when Elaine Corral left after a terse announcement on her last night, but it was comforting that you weren't going anywhere.

Then Leslie and her ever-changing hairstyle abruptly left, but you remained and kept delivering the news with your smooth, ultra-professional delivery and appropriate gravitas.

And now you're going to leave us. We're bummed. We can't stand the other news broadcasts with their smarmy, insincere banter and funny names like Raj Mathai, or as we call him, Rub Mythigh.

Whatever was going on behind the scenes with Elaine and Leslie - bygones - we'd love for you to stay. 10 o'clock won't be the same without you. Farewell, Dennis.

Mmm Cloned Meats

The USDA has decided that no special labeling will be required for "cloned meats," as they said cloned meat is "essentially identical" to non-cloned meat.

I guess I can understand that, but it seems wrong. Like maybe it's time for Robot Insurance. But if the world is about to run out of bacon, they'd better clone the hell out of all the pigs.

4:30PM - Sun Comes Out

And it looks really nice - almost warm. The very opposite of how it was all the rest of the day. Thanks, Sun, for a whole half hour of pleasant sunlight at the very end of the day.

I had a shoot in Sonoma today, which I almost totally spaced on, but I'd hoped it would be sunny by the time I got there.

By the time I finished the sun was starting to break through, but only in small spots and not at all where the "view" would be from the back deck of a charming little farmhouse.

Thanks, Sun. I guess all your bajillion degrees of heat and radiation are no match for valley fog. Kinda weak, wouldn't you say?

I almost missed the shoot entirely because the routine I had all planned out was changed at the last minute. I had my day's logistics organized to the Nth degree, then one shoot was canceled.

See, kids, when you get older, this will also happen to you. You *think* you have it all locked up in that steel trap of a brain, but actually the corners aren't sealed and things *will* leak out. Just wait and see.

In my rusting brain, I confused two shoots & thought it was the morning shoot that was canceled. I almost went back to bed for a nap when I happened to take another look at my list of shoots.

11:00 a.m. Huh. Wait, eleven o'clock, TODAY!? That's one hour and five minutes later than RIGHT NOW? OMIGOD.

At 9:55 I jumped in the shower and was out by 10 (that's WITH shampooing, conditioning and washing everything!), dressed by 10:05, then in the car with all my gear, backing out of the driveway by 10:15.

I made it to the house by 11:05, and by the time I got there, the gardeners weren't quite finished, so the few minutes I needed to get set up allowed them to finish up and clear out their equipment.

I'd like to thank my cozy, reliable car, today's light traffic and the absence of lame drivers for allowing me to cover just over 56 miles in 50 minutes, and I'd like to thank the CHP for patrolling other highways this morning. Thank you all - I couldn't have done it without you.

New Crazy Time Suck

So, as Rooty noticed earlier this month, I've been posting more frequently lately. I've had enough on my mind to post something daily and it's been fun to challenge myself to continue the trend.

And then Jeannie had to go and start a game of Scrabulous with me on Facebook.

I'd signed up with FB last year to stay in touch with folks I'd met through my last job and it seemed like another handy way to stay connected with friends and coworkers. I had no idea how many fun little widgets it has, ready to rob you of every last minute of your day.

Today I was so engrossed in my game of Scrabble, I was hoping my 3pm photoshoot would be rescheduled. This is a dangerous sign. And I must admit, I did not shower today. I don't know if I'll ever shower again.

Wino Parrot

My bird is a wino. A long time ago I gave him a teeny tiny wee taste of red wine, and ever since then, if he sees me in the bar opening a bottle of wine, he makes his excited calls to let me know he would like to have whatever I'm having.

Because he's a lazy drunk, he's not bothered to learn how to say, "Dearest mother, if it's not too much trouble, I would like to taste a tiny drop of that fine vintage you're uncorking," and instead just repeats what he already knows: "Hi Henry!" "Hi Henry bird!" "HI!" "C'mere Henry!" "Wanna come out?" "Meow!"

Even hardcore boozers know how to sweet talk someone into sharing the hooch. But he does seem to have a well-developed palate for an animal that has to dig its food out of a bowl with a beak.

The problem is, once he tastes something he likes, he never forgets, so as I sit here enjoying my glass O red, he's over there repeating everything he knows how to say.

This is how I've learned how to tune out most types of annoying sounds, just like those moms at the store who seem blissfully unaware of their bratty kids barking "Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! Buy me this! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!"

Fine Hobo Living

Sometimes we let our chores get away from us. We're not really adults but a couple of adult-sized children left alone in a house without any grownup supervision.

Without grownups around to keep us on track, sometimes things like laundry pile up, even the clean stuff, because folding is boring.

This morning, as we were awakened by one cat after another wondering if we're now keeping the cat treats somewhere under the covers, we watched the littlest one, Nikita, make her way through some clothes piled on top of the bench at the end of the bed.

She found a spot between two heaps of clothes that have grown into small garmentscrapers when David said we should just get a couple of shopping carts to keep our clothes in. The cats would LOVE crawling around in those!

On a totally unrelated note, how fun to find characters named "Mark and Vanessa Loring" in Juno! Such a great last name!

2008 Psychic Development

Yes, that's right. I've decided to make 2008 my year of psychicness. I feel like it's time. I think I'm ready.

It started as a joke, but now I'm going to see if over the course of this year I can "awaken my psychic powers" and "open my psychic pathways."

I'm not a stranger to psychicness - I've had a few "experiences" in the past that could qualify as "psychic."

The first one I remember happened when I was just out of high school. A guy I barely knew from a group of friends called me up one day, I don't remember why, and the first thing I said to him after "hello" was congratulations on getting a new car. He paused and then quietly asked, "how did you know I got a new car?"

He had just gotten it that day. I hadn't seen or talked to him since high school, some weeks earlier, but for whatever reason, I knew he had a new car. I described it to him over the phone. A white, BMW 2002 with red leather interior, I think it was - hard to remember now - but I remember that I was right, and he was really freaked out. He quickly ended the call and hung up.

See, when you have this kind of power - to see cars and their fit and finishes, it's understandably awe-inspiring and it can make people - the no-seers - uncomfortable.

The next time was in the following year or so. I had a dream about my great aunt passing away, with our whole family traveling to Pasadena for her funeral and I was trying to contact a guy I'd been seeing who'd recently moved to LA. At the time it seemed like a weird dream, but even weirder was when it all came true a month later. Exactly as I'd dreamt it.

Most recently, just over the holiday break, I knew that a friend of mine was going to get engaged. Why, I couldn't tell you. The thought came to me while I was shopping online. I knew her longtime boyfriend was going to ask her that weekend. And sho-nuff, he did. I hadn't talked to either of them in quite a while, so I didn't have any current scoop or hints.

It's unfortunate that I can't tell friends or family which routes or flights to avoid on upcoming trips, or to not delay that next doctor's appointment, but perhaps with this year's training I'll develop my "skill" beyond consumer goods and marriage proposals. Baby steps. Yes... a baby... someone's going to have a baby. Somewhere. I have no idea who or when.

Dave the Plumber

Today while cat-sitting for a friend I met Dave the Plumber. Really nice guy - super mellow. He reminded me of the science teacher in Fast Times @ Ridgemont High.

He had to take a pump or something or other back to his shop and as he was leaving, he said he'd be gone for about an hour if I needed to run out for anything.

I thanked him and said I'd be sticking around as I had some work I had to finish. He asked what I was working on and I told him I was working on an article.

With that he asked if I was a writer or a journalist. I said "writer" and his eyes lit up and he excitedly said that he, too, was working on something, and really feels for the writers on strike in L.A., and he's working on a movie, a dark, French drama - really moody.

I told him I'd love to be writing a dark, moody, French drama, but instead I was crafting an action-packed, thrill-a-minute piece about IT governance. He glazed over and said he'd be back soon.

Cat-sitting has been fun, I must say. Although when I get home I feel like my cats know I've been cheating on them, but they don't seem to mind. Cat culture is very different than ours.

JustToSeeHarmony

Last night we saw the familiar eHarmony TV commercial and after making the requisite jokes about what we might include in our "personality inventories," I said to David that it could be a fun experiment to see if we'd end up getting matched if we signed up & took the personality profiles.

A minute later, we both realized maybe we shouldn't pull that string.

Shooting With the Police

While photographing a home in Sonoma yesterday, we heard a helicopter pass by directly overhead. Then it circled over again... then again... and again... then it was even closer, circling, circling, circling...

We tried to ignore what sounded like a mini-Vietnam and keep shooting, but it was too loud and right up in our airspace. Even the hyper puppy stopped attacking the hose to watch it circle above her yard.

Wondering what the heck might be going on, we went outside to talk with the neighbors. They didn't have the scoop, but the homeowner knew who to call in the sheriff's office. She made the call and asked what was going on. The sheriff's office said she couldn't share that information. Then the homeowner asked if we should lock the doors.

When I heard her ask that question I thought, Jebus, is some crazed criminal going to come busting through the house looking for a place to hide? If so, I suppose I'd get the exclusive photos of the crime in progress. That could be cool.

But then the sheriff told her we didn't have to lock ourselves in and that they were looking for a burglary suspect. As Jeff said when I told him about it, I should have told the agent that this didn't seem to be a good time and offer to come back later, say in a few years.

We quickly finished up the shoot while the homeowner, trying to make it sound like a casual event, said "Oh it happens all the time..." but then realized that didn't sound too appealing from a marketing perspective, so then it became, "You'll love living here! At least one exciting police chase every day!"

Quadrupolo Espresso

So, yesterday afternoon when I met Ms. Crafty for coffee at the Roma in Berkeley (a delightful outing all around), I ordered a usual afternoon quaff, a double espresso.

I expected to get this:

But instead, they filled a cup like this:

I'm not complaining - really - I'm not. I like that their "doppio" is my "twelvo." The economy alone is fantastic, but I also get to enjoy that much more of a tasty beverage.

But this is dangerous. On one hand, I could be considered a recovering caffeine addict and seeing that giant bowl of espresso, I was excited, like I was getting 3x my "fix" for free. I kept looking at it thinking, Are they really going to give me all that? Without charging me extra? Really?

So I tried to play it cool, like I always drink that much espresso at 4 in the afternoon and it's cool. It's cool. I can handle it.

We sat down and got caught up as I sipped my way through my dense coffee lake. It wasn't too long before I noticed my hands were shaking. And I usually talk fast, but I think I was on the verge of sounding like the FedEx guy from their 80s ads.

Even Ms. Crafty noticed the shaky hands - it was hard to hide. But she saw what they gave me. Anyone would have been shaky and twitchy, running off at the mouth about pajama pants and making stew.

I got home in time for dinner, but wasn't hungry (shock). I caught up on email and read a few magazines waiting for The Wire to come on. Man, that show. We're so sad to see it come to an end, but it's been a treat to watch it from the start and see how it will all wrap up.

When it was time for bed, I'm sure you can imagine what happened then. Yup - lying there in a very warm, pre-heated cocoon, reading my book, I could have kept reading all night and perhaps into Wednesday afternoon. I could have painted the garage and rototilled the back yard.

I think I've learned my lesson. It was rough getting up this morning. And for the second night in a row, I was awake at 4:30am, thinking it was morning - and the first night that happened there was no caffeine OD at work. Maybe my brain thinks we've moved to Hawaii. If only.

Dear Age

Dear Age,
I think it's time we had a serious talk. Don't think I haven't noticed what you've been up to. I've noticed, and it's time to call you on it.

I didn't mind so much when you first showed up and decided it would take much longer to recover from a 5K run without any training - that's fair.

But when you showed up again to give me headaches from really good red wine, that was just mean. But maybe you were right and I needed to temper my intake - I deferred and took a "wait and see" approach.

And then the bullshit with the Portuguese mustache started, ever so slightly, one more little black hair at at time. Black hair on my upper lip, as you started replacing the brown hair on my head with pigment-less, wiry grey hair, you tricky bitch.

And all the little things that are just annoying - you clearly have time on your side to come up with crap like this - my knees sound like crunching potato chips when I go up and down stairs; if I stay up too late too often, I'm shredded for days afterward; and one of your cruelest tricks, the ease of which I can be hungover from just two drinks if I haven't eaten enough or drink the wrong thing. An entire morning can be lost while you sit back, laughing at me.

Well, missy, fine. You have your job to do, and I guess I have mine. I'll continue to dress like a 15-year-old boy - I don't care how many years you slap on me. I'll continue to drive a little too fast for road conditions. And I'll keep running 5K races with little or no training, because I still can. I have pain relievers that make you look like an ass.

So what I'm saying is, you need to back the eff off for a while - I get it. I'm not 17 anymore. You've made that painfully clear. Go bother someone else for a few years. So, do we have an understanding? Don't make me get the Jack Lalane juicer and go all aggro on your ass.

Fun with Newsreaders

Earlier this week we were watching the news on KTVU, as we do most nights, when I heard something that didn't sound right. I rewound the live broadcast on the DVR to be sure. Yup, that's what she'd said.

And just that day I'd seen a posting on their website for a news writer, but didn't pursue it because I don't have a journalism degree (nor do I know the first thing about being a news writer).

Now I doubt that a degree is required and instead, just the ability to read AND think at the same time. So below is what I sent to KTVU. They've not written me back.

---

From: [me]
Sent: Sunday, December 30, 2007 10:56 PM
To: news [at] ktvu [dot] com
Subject: "as we say goodbye to 2005"?

Dear KTVU News,
We love the 10 O’clock News and watch it every night – the highly professional reporting and in-depth stories make the other stations look like amateur shows.

But on tonight’s show when Gasia said, “as we say goodbye to 2005…” we had to wonder – when we took that afternoon nap, had we actually traveled back in time?

I hope it’s not actually about to be 2006, because that was not a particularly good year and I wouldn’t enjoy repeating it.

However, I suppose if we are about to relive 2006, we could make sure the pigs don’t get into the spinach, tell Harry Whittington to avoid hunting trips, and I could put all my money on the Steelers to win the championship.

Your Loyal Fans,
Jennifer & David

Shmesolutions

Not really into the resolution thing. It's silly to pick just one day to change your life or decide to floss more.

If you want to do it, do it now - who cares what day it is? And who said January 1st is the start of a new year? Technically, wouldn't it be the day after your birthday?

Last fall I resolved to stop stressing about little things, taking solace in the belief that everything always works out, so just let it go.

Lo and behold, it's held true. Whatever it is, it works out. For example - I bought a computer armoire off Craigslist from a lovely woman and while it's a great piece, I thought it might be a tad irresponsible to part with a chunk of cash when my cash flow is so sporadic.

But I rationalized that #1, I needed it if I wanted to transform what was a shit pile of a room into a comfortable, functional office; #2, she would put the money to good use with twins on the way and her husband looking for work; and #3, it's recycling/reusing instead of buying new, which is always a good thing.

About a month later while cleaning out my office, I found a small stack of papers/magazines and in it, an expense check from my last job I'd obviously lost track of - and it was for the same amount as I'd just paid for the armoire. Even Steven.

And I have resolved that 2008 will be the year I see a dentist. It's only been 6 or 7 years since I last sat in one of those torture racks, but since we still don't have the Do It Yourself Filling Replacement Kit, it's time to put on my big girl panties and find a Dr. Scrivello. With enough Valium, I know I can get through it, though I probably won't remember getting home from it.

Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah Ginger

(notice it's a brunette on the box? they're filthy!)

In the spirit of being open-minded, today I listened to some Douche Lamebag while driving up to Napa to shoot photos.

I have to say, on some things, he seems well-informed and not entirely a wide open gaping ass, but maybe I just caught a rare, good three minutes of his show.

I tuned out for a little while to check traffic/weather reports and by the time I tuned back, he was blathering on for so long without making a point, I lost track of whatever it was he might have been talking about.

This is why I have a ginormous aversion to any show where the host is so impressed with himself that facts and issues end up taking a back seat to the self-important ramblings.

And at one point a caller wanted to talk about how Huckabee is the new Reagan, and Oh My God No You Didint just compare Huckabee to Reagan!

Lamebag kept saying how it was a personal insult (to him) to make such a comparison. I guess Reagan *did* cure cancer with his ultra conservatism - I hadn't realized. Apparently Reagan was a demigod and we are blessed to have had his trickle-down Reagonomics.

I gave Douche as much time as I could to make a point, but he didn't seem to want to stop running his mouth long enough to even pop another Oxycontin, so I tuned back to the news and wished him good luck getting back to Earth.

I found this when I searched for "douche" images on Google and had to share:


In other news, I found a typo in a book I'm reading, and I'm wondering, does she know the typo is there and it's already been corrected for the next edition, or should I send her an email to make sure she knows? If it was your book that had a typo, would you want someone to tell you? I would.

New Word - Columbarium

Sounds like a type of enema, and perhaps in a sense, it's the ultimate enema. I don't even know what that means - I'm already rambling.

Went to Satellite's memorial service today at the Columbarium of San Francisco - a place I'd never heard of before today.

I kept thinking about Mary Richards at the funeral for the clown, how she couldn't stop laughing. I fully expected to be sitting there laughing my ass off.

The place was so cold, truly like a morgue, but thankfully they had hot coffee there. I was fortunate to sit next to Mir, who had the foresight to pack kleenex and joined me in making funny comments only we could hear.

If you have to go to a memorial service/funeral, you'll want her with you. She, like me, is comfortable making inappropriate remarks in such situations.

I wore a leather jacket he used to think was cool, made from thick, pebbled leather - but it makes that leathery creaky noise, so during the service I had to remain very still. I drank my coffee by bending my head down into my cup rather than lift my hand & creak while someone was speaking. It must have looked like I didn't have full use of my upper limbs.

It was a good service and felt good to share stories and remember how hilarious he was. He would be pleased that most of those stories were of a very inappropriate nature.

New NYD Tradition

Our new New Year's Day tradition:

For breakfast: home fried potatoes, bacon, eggs, toast and coffee.

Bread and bacon for money, eggs for health, potatoes for happiness, and coffee for good mental health. And you have to eat/drink it all. Which we did. So bring on the prosperity!