When I was single I didn't watch TV. I owned one, one that I took out of spite from an ex-boyfriend I knew wanted it. But I really didn't watch it or even turn it on other than to watch a movie on the VCR. I have never seen an episode of ER, even though that show was in it's heyday then. I just didn't watch or think about TV much since I didn't have cable.
Then I met J, who had every channel imaginable. So, when we were at his house we watched TV. The things he liked. Like Sportscenter (which I liked) and WWE (then WWF) Wrestling (which I didn't but wasn't I a kick-ass girlfriend?).
After we got married I stopped humoring him (and they say that oral sex is the first thing to go in marriage PFFT) and we found a couple of shows that we both liked. We made a point to watch them together and enjoyed them. CSI and West Wing were our shows. We watched them together every week and it was just really fun to have that to talk about.
And then a couple of years ago our tastes diverged and we stopped watching anything in common at all. Which is fine. But it does make your pop culture references a little different. It is a little like being married to guy from another country.
So this is how I talked him into watch Dancing With The Stars with me this season. First, that show is just fucking awesome. Second, JERRY RICE is on it. And third, the most important selling point for him, their are lots of half-naked chicks on it.
I don't think I was supposed to tell anyone that. But I outed him inadvertently the other day. And let me tell you he likes it. We get to cheer for Jerry Rice and the scary redhead that orders his ass around. He sits up very straight every time Lisa Rhinna's boobs are on screen. And we are watching it on DVR so we can fast forward through the boring shit (which means the Friday results show takes about ten minutes instead of the HOUR it is on).
We watch it on Saturday usually, and often a week behind. So I avoid websites to keep from getting spoiled. Last week (remember a week behind) we were OUTRAGE when Giselle was outed. To the point where there may have been angry vows to stop watching it if Master P didn't get the fuck off the next episode. And we watched the next one immediately.
And I am going to say that my dear husband squealed like a little girl during Drew Lachey's Thriller. And made me rewind and rewatch. There might have been zombie dancing on the couch. MAYBE. And I confess that four hands shot over two heads when Master P got the fuck off our TV.
Especially since we fast forwarded through his album shill.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
Let Me Consult The Oracle
I just tried to take Darla down into the cellar with J and she took one look at the HAIL STORM going on outside and was like OH HELL NO and dug her fucking claws into my feet.
So she is next to me, enjoying my very nutritious dinner of frozen waffles and tater tots. My GOD I am tired of being sick and the accompanying VERY specific appetite requirements. I would just like my face (no longer melting thank you) to stop throbbing and to be able to breath and eat without consulting an almanac of some sort.
Darla, however, would like me to stay sick forever because she just licked my syrup plate and had a tater tot.
So she is next to me, enjoying my very nutritious dinner of frozen waffles and tater tots. My GOD I am tired of being sick and the accompanying VERY specific appetite requirements. I would just like my face (no longer melting thank you) to stop throbbing and to be able to breath and eat without consulting an almanac of some sort.
Darla, however, would like me to stay sick forever because she just licked my syrup plate and had a tater tot.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Explains A Lot
I woke up yesterday morning with my face a misshapen nightmare. It throbbed and was swollen and I looked entirely too Elephant Woman. There was a CREASE under my eyes that looked entirely too much like a butt crack.
Turns out that my sinus headache was not stress or my posture (though I had an ergonomic evaluation at work and according to the expert my desk is all wrong and we will have to rip it all to shreds and start anew--also my freaky all-torso, shorty-leg build qualifies me for the fancy-pants more expensive than a used car chair) but a raging sinus infection. One that I have probably had since I was sick in November.
Well that explains my face melting off. And why I am such a tired sack of nothing. I wanted to make her write that out so I could pin it to my chest in this defiant "See I am not a pathetic lazy asshole or a raging bitch I have just been sick FOREVER" gesture. Of course my face still hurts and my eyes still burn and I am still so tired I can barely get through the day. But supposedly, this will get better.
Either that or I can be a mask model for Halloween monster creations.
Oh but the worst? J was all "What? I can't tell that you loo different," somehow implying that I am always hideous AND seeming uncaring. In one roll. Well played. MORON.
I do want to thank everyone who commented or emailed about Rocky. I know that there are a few of you that come here every day and your comments really mean a lot.
Turns out that my sinus headache was not stress or my posture (though I had an ergonomic evaluation at work and according to the expert my desk is all wrong and we will have to rip it all to shreds and start anew--also my freaky all-torso, shorty-leg build qualifies me for the fancy-pants more expensive than a used car chair) but a raging sinus infection. One that I have probably had since I was sick in November.
Well that explains my face melting off. And why I am such a tired sack of nothing. I wanted to make her write that out so I could pin it to my chest in this defiant "See I am not a pathetic lazy asshole or a raging bitch I have just been sick FOREVER" gesture. Of course my face still hurts and my eyes still burn and I am still so tired I can barely get through the day. But supposedly, this will get better.
Either that or I can be a mask model for Halloween monster creations.
Oh but the worst? J was all "What? I can't tell that you loo different," somehow implying that I am always hideous AND seeming uncaring. In one roll. Well played. MORON.
I do want to thank everyone who commented or emailed about Rocky. I know that there are a few of you that come here every day and your comments really mean a lot.
Monday, January 23, 2006
The Legend
I remember the first day they brought him home. He was the little brother I always imagined--blonde with big eyes and a big waggling tail. Our family dog, Saint Sargie (my parents are Lutherans and I am a Jew and I totally feel comfortable naming that dog as a saint), was thirteen and my parents were looking down the barrel at having to put him down and they just could not face an empty house and so they got a puppy. A puppy that was adopted into the roughest circumstances possible--a family that had an old dog, one that had always been remarkably well-behaved and was many many years removed from his puppy behavior, a family that really just wanted their old dog to live forever. He was a puppy with a big personality, even bigger neurosis and even bigger than frame. And our family was never the same.
This dog ran us all ragged. He didn't do anything that we thought he would. He grew into a giant, fearful, aggressive animal--the kind that many people would advocate putting down immediately. He made my mother cry with his barking . He drug my father into a pond because he wanted to go swimming.
We don't talk about a certain in my family. The years when my dad was laid off. My dad had a lot of his self-image wrapped up in his job. His success there and the money he made equaled his value and his contribution. To have that taken from him for several years and to go through the financial repercussions of that took it's toll. We don't talk about how depressed he was, how he refused to admit it. But it almost cost my parents their marriage and I think it almost cost my dad his life. Fortunately, for once his stubbornness was a good thing and I think he stayed alive because he was going to bend this fucking crazy ass dog to his will. Make him obey.
I will always love Rocky. I will love him because he turned Sargie back into a puppy for a couple of months before he died. I will love him because he let Buster worship him like a God and only kicks his ass when it is really necessary. I will love him because he and Darla were the coolest odd couple ever--imposing their wills on the other dogs. I will love him because he proves that dogs have a memory (my sister spent three weeks of her winter vacation when he was a puppy feeding him two pieces of cereal at breakfast and ten years later GOD HELP the soul who tried to not give him his two pieces). I will always love him because I really believe he saved my daddy. My father came out of those years a better man and a better father and Rocky came out a better dog.
Rocky died at 5:00 tonight. My parents decided to put him down after he had a particularly bad day this weekend. My dad found him in a closet, which for this particular dog is a hiding place. I can only imagine that he was hiding from the monster seizures that he was having every night. We think he had a brain tumor. But no one wanted to put him through the tests necessary to confirm it. He lasted six more months than we expected. He was ten years old. And I think we all feel a little broken.
I don't exactly believe in Heaven for people. But I believe in it for dogs. And with any luck he is already up there doing the tour with Sarge. It suits my morbid sense of humor to imagine the two of them up there chuckling--arguing over who is missed the most. I hope that the meals are endless, the walks go on for days and some body will always through that goddamn log for him. Sargie is the Sainted one, but to me Rocky will be the Legend.
He was the giant dog who grew to way over 100 pounds. Who liked to carry a ten pound log on his walks. Who ate more pounds of butter than any of us want to think about.
I don't understand people who don't like dogs. People talk about how they became a family when they had a baby. Well our house became a home when we got a dog. Your dog is your best friend. You say things to a dog you wouldn't even say to your spouse because really unchecked communication between married people is a bad idea. A dog loves you no matter what--they ask only for a place to sleep and enough food to stuff themselves with. They deserve so much more. My dogs deserve a better owner than me, but no one could ever love them more.
There was a time when I would have laughed at some one who suggested we would all miss Rocky this much. Goddamn that dog was an asshole. But he was our asshole. And we miss him.
This dog ran us all ragged. He didn't do anything that we thought he would. He grew into a giant, fearful, aggressive animal--the kind that many people would advocate putting down immediately. He made my mother cry with his barking . He drug my father into a pond because he wanted to go swimming.
We don't talk about a certain in my family. The years when my dad was laid off. My dad had a lot of his self-image wrapped up in his job. His success there and the money he made equaled his value and his contribution. To have that taken from him for several years and to go through the financial repercussions of that took it's toll. We don't talk about how depressed he was, how he refused to admit it. But it almost cost my parents their marriage and I think it almost cost my dad his life. Fortunately, for once his stubbornness was a good thing and I think he stayed alive because he was going to bend this fucking crazy ass dog to his will. Make him obey.
I will always love Rocky. I will love him because he turned Sargie back into a puppy for a couple of months before he died. I will love him because he let Buster worship him like a God and only kicks his ass when it is really necessary. I will love him because he and Darla were the coolest odd couple ever--imposing their wills on the other dogs. I will love him because he proves that dogs have a memory (my sister spent three weeks of her winter vacation when he was a puppy feeding him two pieces of cereal at breakfast and ten years later GOD HELP the soul who tried to not give him his two pieces). I will always love him because I really believe he saved my daddy. My father came out of those years a better man and a better father and Rocky came out a better dog.
Rocky died at 5:00 tonight. My parents decided to put him down after he had a particularly bad day this weekend. My dad found him in a closet, which for this particular dog is a hiding place. I can only imagine that he was hiding from the monster seizures that he was having every night. We think he had a brain tumor. But no one wanted to put him through the tests necessary to confirm it. He lasted six more months than we expected. He was ten years old. And I think we all feel a little broken.
I don't exactly believe in Heaven for people. But I believe in it for dogs. And with any luck he is already up there doing the tour with Sarge. It suits my morbid sense of humor to imagine the two of them up there chuckling--arguing over who is missed the most. I hope that the meals are endless, the walks go on for days and some body will always through that goddamn log for him. Sargie is the Sainted one, but to me Rocky will be the Legend.
He was the giant dog who grew to way over 100 pounds. Who liked to carry a ten pound log on his walks. Who ate more pounds of butter than any of us want to think about.
I don't understand people who don't like dogs. People talk about how they became a family when they had a baby. Well our house became a home when we got a dog. Your dog is your best friend. You say things to a dog you wouldn't even say to your spouse because really unchecked communication between married people is a bad idea. A dog loves you no matter what--they ask only for a place to sleep and enough food to stuff themselves with. They deserve so much more. My dogs deserve a better owner than me, but no one could ever love them more.
There was a time when I would have laughed at some one who suggested we would all miss Rocky this much. Goddamn that dog was an asshole. But he was our asshole. And we miss him.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Need Some Hot Sauce Terrell Davis?
HOLY SHIT!
We're going to Detroit!
With any luck we will never have to hear about the unstoppable Steve Smith, who's only big play was a gift from the refs, and the "perfect" Jake Delhome, who at one point had a 1.9 quarterback rating, again. The entire crew of Fox Sports can suck it.
Not the most exciting game if you were not a Seattle fan. If you like the Chickens than it was the best possible scenario. Smith had about seven tantrums on the sidelines and Delhome looked like he was going to cry. Those two talked a whole lot of shit this whole week, bragging about how they could control any offense and no one could stop their passing game. They should be tied up and made to watch clips of that shit for the entire off season.
I don't want to hear anything from anyone about Paul Allen, yes he is a rich son of a bitch but he saved football in Seattle. I don't care if he wants to build more personal museums this shit is just fun.
Now if J would stop flipping so we can watch the postgame, some fuckers have some crow to eat.
We're going to Detroit!
With any luck we will never have to hear about the unstoppable Steve Smith, who's only big play was a gift from the refs, and the "perfect" Jake Delhome, who at one point had a 1.9 quarterback rating, again. The entire crew of Fox Sports can suck it.
Not the most exciting game if you were not a Seattle fan. If you like the Chickens than it was the best possible scenario. Smith had about seven tantrums on the sidelines and Delhome looked like he was going to cry. Those two talked a whole lot of shit this whole week, bragging about how they could control any offense and no one could stop their passing game. They should be tied up and made to watch clips of that shit for the entire off season.
I don't want to hear anything from anyone about Paul Allen, yes he is a rich son of a bitch but he saved football in Seattle. I don't care if he wants to build more personal museums this shit is just fun.
Now if J would stop flipping so we can watch the postgame, some fuckers have some crow to eat.
Keep It Up
Can't. Stop. Screaming.
If this keeps up, we are EAGERLY awaiting the post-game show where all the analysts who annoited Delhome the messiah have to eat shit.
If this keeps up, we are EAGERLY awaiting the post-game show where all the analysts who annoited Delhome the messiah have to eat shit.
Make The Right Calls
FUCKING BULLSHIT CALL!
Lets Carolina get a touchdown. Then another bullshit call against Seattle to push them back practically out of the stadium.
Goddamn zebras. Apparently they got the memo from ESPN that Carolina is the coming of the messiah.
Lets Carolina get a touchdown. Then another bullshit call against Seattle to push them back practically out of the stadium.
Goddamn zebras. Apparently they got the memo from ESPN that Carolina is the coming of the messiah.
Did You Parents Name You For The Apple Juice?
Holy shit! Did you see Seneca Wallace?
The vaunted Carolina defense just watched Stevens coast into the end zone.
J is getting drunk. We are all flushed and freaked out.
Maybe we all need a drink?
The vaunted Carolina defense just watched Stevens coast into the end zone.
J is getting drunk. We are all flushed and freaked out.
Maybe we all need a drink?
Here Is Hoping
We gave up on the AFC game to just to flip over and listen to the sportscasters suck Carolinas' cocks. I don't know how the hell they can claim Steve Smith and Jake Delhome are unheralded stars when ESPN has spent the entire week wrenching the MVP title from Alexander and shoving it to Smith. All week long about those two and their tractors and their kids and how they were undrafted . . . blah blah blah.
I would just like to point out that they haven't won anything yet.
Let's hope that they don't and that somebody, please ANYONE, just creams Smith one the first drive.
I would just like to point out that they haven't won anything yet.
Let's hope that they don't and that somebody, please ANYONE, just creams Smith one the first drive.
Finally
DAMN.
I'll give them that. Rod Smith making that catch while WEARING a Steeler was amazing.
Just make it a game for crying outloud.
I don't even like the Broncos and I cheered.
I'll give them that. Rod Smith making that catch while WEARING a Steeler was amazing.
Just make it a game for crying outloud.
I don't even like the Broncos and I cheered.
Just A Question
So are the Broncos even going to try to win the game or they just going to lay down for another half?
Blogging The Games
I accept that sometimes as the only girl my opinion will be ignored during football. I don't like it but whatever. But how is it that I am the only one actually watching the game? One is making burgers (cooking like a good man should) and the other is playing video games. I think I am the only one that saw the damn play.
Countdown
Football was supposed to start a minute ago but instead we are watching Deacon Jones being all crazy. Fuckers start the game!
I have wished away this weekend (which is a damn shame) because I really want to see the Seachickens!
Only three and half hours to go!
I have wished away this weekend (which is a damn shame) because I really want to see the Seachickens!
Only three and half hours to go!
Friday, January 20, 2006
I Was Reading
When it rains it pours over at the book blog, as I try to make up for the last month all at once.
You Win
My sinuses (sinii?) and I have always had a good relationship. Professional, naturally, and perhaps a little distant but we are old school and how would one hug a sinus anyway. They have served me well. Only becoming slightly drippy during cold and flu season and really that could happen to anyone. Then came November, and my first sinus infection. I did all the right things, took the medicines, got lots of rest, kept everything clean as a whistle.
And it seemed to be better. The infection was gone at any rate. But since then, my sinuses have gotten a little more sensitive. I don’t want to throw the word diva out there because I think it is greatly over used (seriously, US Weekly calls Lindsay Lohan a diva in one issue, I am sorry don’t you have to do something of value to become that?) but I mean it may be the right word as I expect them to start demanding M&Ms with the greens sorted out for their dressing room (because they don’t like anything with connotations of horny even NEAR them) any day now. I know remember that blissful time before the infection (lovingly named Before Living Hell) as a time when I could blow my nose without being ginger. A time when my face did not swell for no reason. A time when cool fresh air was not the enemy.
BLH was such a long long time ago.
I have had a sinus headache all week. The kind where my eyes just burned and staring at a computer was just a nightmare. I haven’t really been able to move because my head just feels HEAVY. And yesterday when I woke up the right side of my face was so swollen I looked like a Sharpei. Seriously, I almost lost my foundation brush in the crevices while I was doing my make up.
This morning it has progressed into a full-on migraine. One with auras and nausea. I puked in the bathroom so it is just time to surrender.
You win sinuses. YOU WIN. Whatever it is that you want, whatever your demands, I cave. God knows I have done it for other body parts (I mean that bitch the skin won’t even let me eat tomatoes more than a couple of times a week). I will do it for you. Send me a note, shoot me an email, send suggestions through Web MD. Anything you want, I can get for you.
Just leave me the hell alone.
So my plans to break my rut of do-nothing weekends are totally out of the works now. It is all about pillows and naps and being a big baby. At least for Saturday. By Sunday this better all be over because I have a lot of screaming to do at the TV for football.
Here is hoping my head gets the message.
And it seemed to be better. The infection was gone at any rate. But since then, my sinuses have gotten a little more sensitive. I don’t want to throw the word diva out there because I think it is greatly over used (seriously, US Weekly calls Lindsay Lohan a diva in one issue, I am sorry don’t you have to do something of value to become that?) but I mean it may be the right word as I expect them to start demanding M&Ms with the greens sorted out for their dressing room (because they don’t like anything with connotations of horny even NEAR them) any day now. I know remember that blissful time before the infection (lovingly named Before Living Hell) as a time when I could blow my nose without being ginger. A time when my face did not swell for no reason. A time when cool fresh air was not the enemy.
BLH was such a long long time ago.
I have had a sinus headache all week. The kind where my eyes just burned and staring at a computer was just a nightmare. I haven’t really been able to move because my head just feels HEAVY. And yesterday when I woke up the right side of my face was so swollen I looked like a Sharpei. Seriously, I almost lost my foundation brush in the crevices while I was doing my make up.
This morning it has progressed into a full-on migraine. One with auras and nausea. I puked in the bathroom so it is just time to surrender.
You win sinuses. YOU WIN. Whatever it is that you want, whatever your demands, I cave. God knows I have done it for other body parts (I mean that bitch the skin won’t even let me eat tomatoes more than a couple of times a week). I will do it for you. Send me a note, shoot me an email, send suggestions through Web MD. Anything you want, I can get for you.
Just leave me the hell alone.
So my plans to break my rut of do-nothing weekends are totally out of the works now. It is all about pillows and naps and being a big baby. At least for Saturday. By Sunday this better all be over because I have a lot of screaming to do at the TV for football.
Here is hoping my head gets the message.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Hermitting (Yes, That Is A Word)
Darla's breath smells so bad that I am fairly certain her saliva could be a new and undiscovered kind of acid. When she licks my face I fear that my skin will break out in horrible sores.
The doggie breath mints do nothing. What happened to truth in advertising? She refuses to fucking gargle with too. SELFISH DAMN DOG.
We are a sex-segregated house right now. Darla and Rooster are up here watching NFL Network with me and Buster is down in the cellar with J doing whatever the hell it is that they do. This arrangement works for me. Mainly because the only witnesses to my carbohydrate laden with no nutritional value dinner can be bought with Doritos.
Cheerfully bought I might add.
Though that may explain her breath.
I don't much feel like leaving the house lately. It isn't just football, though what a handy excuse and diversion, but I just feel hermitty. I don't really want to put in the effort to deal with people. I also don't want to wash my hair. Modern society is a little difficult to live in. I mean, sure our ancestors had to deal with inhumane working conditions, savage disease, inadequate housing and no indoor plumbing--but did anyone expect them to have good hair every day?
This could have something to do with our 29,000 or whatever days in a row of rain (which GOD BLESS the sportscasters of this great nation for repeating that over and over because I hate it when they show our climate in a positive light on television, I swear every time they show a sunny day in February 212 people from Michigan move here and we are FULL people). I do love the rain, it makes the city smell so clean, but it doesn't encourage the outdoorsiness so much. Well. Maybe it does to those sort of people. Hikers and such. But for lazy asses like myself it is like a big sign from the universe to sit at home and eat macaroni and cheese out of a plastic bin.
I am also unreasonably thirsty. Not that this has anything to do with my anti-social behavior (or does it? shall I consult Dr. Google? No, undoubtedly I will find something to say that some study found serial killers are VERY THIRSTY right before they snap and kill 84 people). But I can just chug bottle after bottle of water and I still want more.
So really, rain and football and the need to be near liquids and a bathroom have all added up to me curling up on my couch and being a slug.
You know where to find me.
The doggie breath mints do nothing. What happened to truth in advertising? She refuses to fucking gargle with too. SELFISH DAMN DOG.
We are a sex-segregated house right now. Darla and Rooster are up here watching NFL Network with me and Buster is down in the cellar with J doing whatever the hell it is that they do. This arrangement works for me. Mainly because the only witnesses to my carbohydrate laden with no nutritional value dinner can be bought with Doritos.
Cheerfully bought I might add.
Though that may explain her breath.
I don't much feel like leaving the house lately. It isn't just football, though what a handy excuse and diversion, but I just feel hermitty. I don't really want to put in the effort to deal with people. I also don't want to wash my hair. Modern society is a little difficult to live in. I mean, sure our ancestors had to deal with inhumane working conditions, savage disease, inadequate housing and no indoor plumbing--but did anyone expect them to have good hair every day?
This could have something to do with our 29,000 or whatever days in a row of rain (which GOD BLESS the sportscasters of this great nation for repeating that over and over because I hate it when they show our climate in a positive light on television, I swear every time they show a sunny day in February 212 people from Michigan move here and we are FULL people). I do love the rain, it makes the city smell so clean, but it doesn't encourage the outdoorsiness so much. Well. Maybe it does to those sort of people. Hikers and such. But for lazy asses like myself it is like a big sign from the universe to sit at home and eat macaroni and cheese out of a plastic bin.
I am also unreasonably thirsty. Not that this has anything to do with my anti-social behavior (or does it? shall I consult Dr. Google? No, undoubtedly I will find something to say that some study found serial killers are VERY THIRSTY right before they snap and kill 84 people). But I can just chug bottle after bottle of water and I still want more.
So really, rain and football and the need to be near liquids and a bathroom have all added up to me curling up on my couch and being a slug.
You know where to find me.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Friday, January 13, 2006
They Cannot Make Me Wear Pleats
There are so many types of clothing that look like utter shit on me it is much faster and easier to list the things that don't. Skirts that hit below the knee (a-line is best), flat front straight-leg or wide-leg trousers, fine knits that are fitted, jackets that are fitted at the waist, button down shirts that are fitted (noticing a trend) . . I have broad shoulders and hips, if I wear anything boxy I look enormous.
So a few things that aren't on the list. Pleats, tapered pants, crop pants, leggings.
All things that are fucking in stores right now. Some one bring me the goddamn HEAD of whoever brought back the legging because that shit looks like ass on everyone and I saw them in PAISLEY today. I have actually been fearing this season since I saw some of the things that were being brought out. The colors are washed out. The knits are bulky. The jackets are boxy. God help me if any of this shit sells at all because they will do again for fall and I will have to go like a year between buying things.
No new clothes for a year!? I think my heart just stopped.
Y'all do not buy this shit. I know in the past few years they have convinced us that cropped pants are a basic, I even bought a pair of gauchos last year (but they were cute! I mean really!). But this is going to far. Some of us like to wear long pants people. We have short legs! We hate looking stumpy! Don't do this to me! I already have pant issues as I never actually replaced all of them that were too large. Now there are no decent black pants in the stores.
I am going to be rolling the waists on my pants for a year aren't I?
Somehow, I just know that this is all Santino's fault.
So a few things that aren't on the list. Pleats, tapered pants, crop pants, leggings.
All things that are fucking in stores right now. Some one bring me the goddamn HEAD of whoever brought back the legging because that shit looks like ass on everyone and I saw them in PAISLEY today. I have actually been fearing this season since I saw some of the things that were being brought out. The colors are washed out. The knits are bulky. The jackets are boxy. God help me if any of this shit sells at all because they will do again for fall and I will have to go like a year between buying things.
No new clothes for a year!? I think my heart just stopped.
Y'all do not buy this shit. I know in the past few years they have convinced us that cropped pants are a basic, I even bought a pair of gauchos last year (but they were cute! I mean really!). But this is going to far. Some of us like to wear long pants people. We have short legs! We hate looking stumpy! Don't do this to me! I already have pant issues as I never actually replaced all of them that were too large. Now there are no decent black pants in the stores.
I am going to be rolling the waists on my pants for a year aren't I?
Somehow, I just know that this is all Santino's fault.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
You Would, I Would Buy The Universe A Coke
I believed I have mentioned my impatience when I drive. Basically, I think very few people should be allowed to drive. Most people drive too fast, too slow, too erratically, too annoyingly or too stupidly for me. Tonight I was in front of a woman who was determined to cram her Volvo station wagon right up my ass. It was unclear why she felt comfortable bringing her three kids along with her. I was in the right lane of a city street with a speed limit of 30, I was going forty and it was dark. A left lane was available. But instead she rode my ass for miles. When I finally turned I noticed she was chatting away on her phone.
Now, everyone has talked on their cell phone while driving. Or everyone except my grandparents who do not understand cell phones and think they are remote controls that aliens have sent down to control us with. Either that, or they can't tell them apart from remote controls. I wasn't really paying attention to them when they were telling me. My point is that everyone has done it and we all know it is dumb.
However, I think most of us would agree that it is really fucking stupid to talk on your phone while trying to give a gal in a silver Hyundai a proctology exam.
I just impossibly enraged by that sort of shit and found myself wishing that the damn woman would get in a wreck and that would teach her a goddamn lesson.
And I hear a crash.
Y'all see where this is going yes?
Stupid bitch hit a light pole. One that wasn't lit, yes. But a light pole.
So I stopped. She was fine, her kids were fine.
She was still talking on the goddamn phone.
She hits a pole. Crunches the hell out of her car. Could have killed them all. Is still talking about what shoes is she going to wear with this on her fucking phone, it isn't like she had called 911 or anything.
Here is guessing she didn't learn a damn thing.
But if I was going to suddenly control the universe with my mind (which would be awesome, y'all would love the AB-verse) why did it have to happen when it could have harmed other people? Why couldn't I just levitate something or win the lottery or Tom Cruise wake up with his mouth sewn shut?
Now, everyone has talked on their cell phone while driving. Or everyone except my grandparents who do not understand cell phones and think they are remote controls that aliens have sent down to control us with. Either that, or they can't tell them apart from remote controls. I wasn't really paying attention to them when they were telling me. My point is that everyone has done it and we all know it is dumb.
However, I think most of us would agree that it is really fucking stupid to talk on your phone while trying to give a gal in a silver Hyundai a proctology exam.
I just impossibly enraged by that sort of shit and found myself wishing that the damn woman would get in a wreck and that would teach her a goddamn lesson.
And I hear a crash.
Y'all see where this is going yes?
Stupid bitch hit a light pole. One that wasn't lit, yes. But a light pole.
So I stopped. She was fine, her kids were fine.
She was still talking on the goddamn phone.
She hits a pole. Crunches the hell out of her car. Could have killed them all. Is still talking about what shoes is she going to wear with this on her fucking phone, it isn't like she had called 911 or anything.
Here is guessing she didn't learn a damn thing.
But if I was going to suddenly control the universe with my mind (which would be awesome, y'all would love the AB-verse) why did it have to happen when it could have harmed other people? Why couldn't I just levitate something or win the lottery or Tom Cruise wake up with his mouth sewn shut?
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