me: A Blog

Did lunch with Dad today. We try to do lunch a couple times a month. We vary between Italian and Chinese (Mom hates both). Today I chose the chi-knee boo-fay. I was craving rice over portabello mushroom ravioli. The food was typical. Not bad. Not great. The fortune however, that was a different matter. It sucked. I prefer fortune cookies with fortunes in them. "The man of your dreams will find you tomorrow." is much more fun - if totally full of shit - than something insipid (who uses that word on a daily basis?) that tries way too hard to be profound like "As the purse is emptied the heart is filled." What the...?! I think fortune cookie writers should be fired if they choose to attempt profundity (I no one uses that word on a daily basis) vs. giving readers some good ol' fashioned fun. Let loose for God sake! Tell me something fun and exciting is right around the corner. It's a 20 cent cookie, no one is going to sue if Mr. Right doesn't com...

I ran across this clip on YouTube and laughed. I had to pull the DVD out and watch this movie. Again. For the umpteenth time. But really, it's just too funny to not enjoy each time I watch it. Another favorite moment is in the middle of the showstopping musical number "Knights of the Round Table" when the poor dude hanging in the dungeon claps. Now that's damn funny.

This is what my deck looked like yesterday. I don't believe decks should look like this anytime after mid-March - and even then, that's pushing it. And if my deck is going to look like this in April (or at anytime, really), it better look like that on a friggin' work day. NOT on a Saturday. Although this happened Saturday when I was trying to be to work at 7 a.m., I guess it sort of counts. Except that a blizzard on a drill weekend isn't really like having a blizzard on a Tuesday. And I got stuck in my driveway. Thankfully the neighbor down the alley was also up and out shovelling at the ungodly hour of 6:30 a.m. and felt sorry enough for me to come push me back in the garage. So I just put on my sweats and poured a Bloody Mary. Because my deck looked like this all day yesterday, I did absolutely nothing. No housework. No homework. Nothing. Simba and I cuddled on the chair and channel surfed. And napped. Twice. Today my deck still pretty much looks like this picture, e...

I feel like a rebel. I'm home sick. I haven't taken a sick day in years. Not even a fake one. Hmmm... I'm not really prepared to be sick. There are only a few drugs in the house (case in point - I just took a Tylenol Sinus PM, I'm sure I'll be out like a light soon), I have no good "I'm home sick" food (frosted flakes, mac & cheese) and daytime TV is not exactly great company; had I planned this, I would have bought a book. A couple nights ago I woke with a piercing sinus headache on the left side of my head. It's been there in various stages of "Ow" since. Today I said screw it and let the sinus win. Of course I checked my calendar first to be sure being sick wouldn't interfere with anything at work. And can someone ever really be sick when the big blackberry server in the Canadian tundra is up and running? Email traffic is work, right? So really, I'm teleworking today. And making tacos. In my jammies.

There's something about not wearing underwear that makes you appreciate kegel exercises. Today I went commando. No big deal. People do it all the time. I've dated two guys who thought underwear was a two-word question. But when you're not wearing panties - or gramma undies - or a thong - or boy shorts - or hipsters - or tap pants - and you're talking to the boss and there's that little voice in your head that goes "Naughty girl!" (my little voice sounds like Austin Powers), and then you sneeze, well... that's when you say a quick thank you to Dr. Kegel for figuring out that squeeze thing. See, I have to do laundry. I've had to do laundry for a couple days. I figured that out when yesterday I realized I would have to wear the most uncomfortable pair of hooker underwear I own. I figured it would be OK; I've worn them before, just not to work. And not all day. Uh, no. Trust me when I say that piece of lace isn't made to actually be on for mor...

Wow. Look what happens when your friends guilt you (in a good way) to joining the 21st Century: You find out you joined almost two years ago and forgot about it. Either I'm a trend setter or am going insane. You pick. So...here I am. I'm avoiding homework, which is becoming my newest hobby - and I'm very good at it. My final is due Friday. I have plenty of time. Hours. And, thanks to the birthday party last week, a few bottles of wine. With wine and hours, if I can't pull out a comparison between tainted corned beef and New Orleans' levee breaks, no one can. Alright. Here I am. Again.

It's 10 p.m. and I'm on the deck sipping a glass of Shiraz and feeling the breeze on my neck. A squirt gun rests on the table next to the wine. It's for the black cat next door. He likes to crap in my yard. A quick squirt of H2O and he clears the fence back to his own litterbox. My cat is poised in the lawn staring at who knows what. A moth? A spider? She'll pounce in a minute and puke it up later. After she goes inside.