Still at our old house!

Yes, the moving company hit a slight snag; that snag being that they haven't bothered to show up. But, no fear! They called a few minutes ago to say they were a mere 50 minutes away. I suggested they put us off until tomorrow, but, oh, no. They have a full day tomorrow, too. Therefore the movers will be arriving here to begin loading our stuff around 8 p.m. On a school day. Isn't that special?

A more assertive (read: richer) person would have told them to take their moving truck and shove it; however, their services come relatively cheap (proving the old adage that you get what you pay for). So we are going to grin and bear it. Thank heavens Robert decided yesterday to clear his schedule for the rest of the week and come home two days early. My plan to prevent my children from missing out on 2-3 hours' worth of sleep is to take them over to the house while Robert stays here to supervise the loading. We have nothing to move into JZ's room, so I can make up a bed for the older two on the floor and open up the pack n' play for Eliza and have them sleep in there.

Ah, I tell you....the fun just never ends around here.

Note to my husband:

When you mention the name of a female work associate and I ask you, "Is she hot?" I am just kidding, and the correct answer is NOT, "Yes, she's pretty." There are ONLY two acceptable answers in this situation. They are:

1) "No, she's a real woofer."

OR

2) "I dunno. I haven't noticed."

Please remember this in the future. I have enough issues already.

....but I wonder if they know a bad song when they hear it?

This is the time of year when I turn off the Sixties on Six on XM radio and turn to their Christmas station, Holly. Unfortunately they have a habit of playing the same songs over. And over. And over. One of their most unfortunate choices is Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas?" I'm not sure that song could be any more smarmy and condescending. Contains possibly one of the worst lines in a charity song ever: "Tonight thank God it's them instead of you." That's either hideously cruel or unforgivably self-righteous (I'm leaning toward the latter, considering Bono was involved). Oh, and don't forget the classic, "There won't be snow in Africa this Christmas." Shit, really? I can't imagine. Do go on. I wasn't aware that the snow shortage in the desert and tropics was tops on the global crisis list. There won't be snow on California's central coast this Christmas, either, and I don't hear anyone writing a song about it. Of all the reasons I have to feel empathy for the people of Africa, the fact that it doesn't snow there at Christmas would not be anywhere close to on the list.

P.S. to Bob Geldof -- it snows in the Drakensberg mountain range in South Africa so, ostensibly, there WILL be snow in Africa this Christmas. Perhaps a bit of studying up on the geography of the next continent you so generously decide to save would be in order.

When I found out Bret Michaels, lead singer of Poison, was doing a Bachelor-style reality dating show, I knew I had to watch. (Rock of Love on VH1, Sundays) Hey, I may be the world's biggest Beatles fan but I still have a soft spot for my 80s hair metal bands. I thought it might be fun to see so I set my TiVo, not sure what to expect but curious how it would all pan out.

Well, several episodes in I am still watching, but only for the sheer train wreck factor. First off, I expected a lot of beautiful women -- you know, real model types, like you used to see in Poison videos. Instead the producers have presented us with the motliest collection of ladies I've ever seen under one roof. There are some seriously fugly broads in that house. Several of them look like old leather pouches due to continual baking in tanning beds. As you might suspect there is not a set of natural boobs in the joint, which might explain how they got on the show in the first place despite their overall unattractiveness.

All this wouldn't be so bad if there was a single likable girl in the group. On The Bachelor there are always a few girls to whom I take a liking and who I think the guy should choose. But, in this bunch, there isn't one. They are all loud and obnoxious and bitchy. The quieter ones have already been sent home for not making asses of themselves -- oh, I mean, they "didn't know how to party". It's quite shocking how rude and disgusting these women are. They are, by and large, drunk, foul-mouthed, cigarette-smoking, morally-bankrupt skanks, for lack of a better term. They start drinking as soon as they roll out of bed. They curse like sailors. They get in catfights with each other. Watching the show I can almost see the fumes rising from those girls. I imagine they must smell something like an ashtray that's been doused in bourbon. I am sure that some of them are fairly safe but Bret should seriously consider a round of penicillin if he gets too friendly with a few of them. Yes, it seems the producers culled the finest trailer parks across the nation to find these women. It's really too bad they didn't try to think outside the box and tap some classier sources for potentials.

And, no, this is not sour grapes on my part. I am long past my teenage-crush days. I was merely interested in the show as you'd be interested in an old friend from high school -- you wonder how they're doing and wish them well. I know Bret has been unlucky in love and I was hoping he'd find someone lovely out of this whole deal. I tried to find someone to root for but I couldn't. There's not a single woman on there who hasn't struck me as trashy. The best I've been able to do is find a few to root against because they are the worst of the lot. I've been completely astonished as I've watched the show because it really seems as though they scraped the bottom of the barrel to find contestants. And I've been equally astonished that Bret seems to think they are all just wonderful. He keeps blaming rock and roll for the demise of all his previous relationships, which is probably true in a roundabout way (though not the way he's thinking). I think it's true in the sense that he keeps hooking up with these chicks you'd find backstage after a Poison concert. Perhaps if he'd find a nice girl who had something going for her other than silicone and alcoholism he'd have something that lasted.

Did I miss a memo somewhere? One that stated that the Federal government was outlawing wedding dreses with sleeves?

I understand that the long, 80s-style sleeves are out. I don't miss those, personally. But, my gosh, what is with the completely strapless dresses? Does anyone even make them with any sort of sleeves anymore? My wedding dress had short sleeves and was very pretty. Looking back on it I don't think it looks dated at all. Who are these unseen, mysterious people who declare, from on high, that it's suddenly gauche and shameful to have sleeves on your wedding dress?

It's not that I'm anti-strapless-dress. Some of them are very pretty. And they look great....on the right people. However, there are some people that really should not be wearing strapless gowns (myself being a prime example). From what I can tell, all consideration for what might be flattering on one's figure has been tossed out the window. If you get married you cram yourself into a strapless dress whether it's the best idea or not -- just because everyone else is doing it. I hate the sameness, the sheeplike homogeny of it all. What happened to variety? What happened to expressing individuality? Who decided that the official hip bride uniform now consists of a strapless gown and a tiara? I mean, seriously -- a tiara?

Before I get any comments from brides who wore strapless dresses, all hurt because I'm dissing their gowns, it's nothing personal. I'm sure you looked beautiful and were very happy and had a lovely wedding. Like I said, it's not that I specifically dislike or have anything against strapless gowns. I'd just like to see a little variety. Every bride I see, on t.v., in pictures, in advertisements nowadays looks exactly the same. Same dress, with very few variations, and same headgear. And, while I'm sure many chose that look because they honestly like it, I have to wonder how many others go that route because "it's the thing to do". Anyone who knows me well knows that if everyone else is doing something I'm going to do exactly the opposite -- so I guess that's what bugs me.

I just heard the worst version ever of "Winter Wonderland", performed by Paul Anka. Apparently, on the day of recording, Paul received a crushing blow to the head and woke up suffering under the delusion that he was Sammy Davis, Jr. The resulting record is quite tragic. Poor Paul! I do hope he hasn't had any lasting effects from the accident.

The song was followed immediately by a breathy, angst-ridden track by some unidentified emo chick who was boohooing about existential pain and why'd you leave me in the wintertime and blah blah blah. Hey, here's a thought -- perhaps because spending more than sixty seconds in the same room as you would make even the most easygoing guy want to slit his wrists. Ease up a little on the ennui and try to grab some Christmas spirit, Whiny McBummerpants. I hear Prozac has come out in candy cane form this season. Try one (or several)!

I have to give a bit of background. I'll try to keep it brief.

Back in September we took Madalyn to the dentist, "Dentist A", and found she had two cavities, one of which was severe enough to need a cap. Despite this Dentist A could not get us in for an appointment to fix the teeth for another month after that. In the interim our coverage with Dentist A ended, resulting in my having to cancel the appointment to have the work, as Dentist A only takes this particular coverage and does not accept self-paying clients, even if they have the money.

As soon as I determined I didn't know if we'd get the coverage back, I called and made an appointment with a different dentist, Dentist B, so we could just pay out of pocket and get it taken care of once and for all. There was a consult appointment where they took x-rays and came to the same conclusion -- filling in one, cap on the other. Then there was a bit of a wait for the next appointment.

Appointment day arrives. Madalyn is nervous. We arrive and she's crying. Not hysterical, not violent, just snuffling because she doesn't know what's going to happen. We are greeted literally before the door has closed behind us by a person who says, "If she's going to be LIKE THAT maybe she needs to go see Dentist C" (who is a local dentist who does sedation). Uh, excuse me? "Like that"? Like what? Nervous? Yeah, because NOBODY is ever nervous when they go to the dentist. That's not common at all. That's why they spent the entire time I was getting my teeth filled last time repeatedly asking me if I was "sure" I didn't want the gas.

Dentist B then comes out, takes one look at Madalyn and immediately tells his people to call Dentist C and make us an appointment. They didn't even TRY to put Madalyn in the chair and put the nitrous on her. If they had I think she'd have been fine. I pointed this out and was told that she wouldn't be able to breathe through her nose since she'd been crying. Um, hello, ever heard of blowing your nose? How do you know the state of her sinuses? It almost seemed as though they were looking for a reason not to deal with her. They had seen her before and she had behaved beautifully. They had NO REASON to assume she was going to freak out on them and they could have, at the very least, put her in the chair to see what happened. But we never got past the lobby. By the time I finished talking to the receptionist Madalyn had stopped crying and even asked why we were leaving as we walked out the door.

They had tried to call Dentist C for me but the office was closed that day so they passed the buck to me. Then Thanksgiving rolled around and this other place is closed on Mondays so I only just now got to call them today to see about an appointment. Now, despite the fact that TWO OTHER DENTISTS have determined what needs to be done, AND the fact that we have x-rays that show what needs to be done, Dentist C will not do the work without a "consult" first -- which, conveniently, costs $75 aside from however bloody much they will charge for the actual work. Oh yes, and they only see patients three days a week, and we can't even get in for the consult until December 20th. God knows when they will be able to get around to actually FIXING HER FRIGGING TEETH. So she is sitting here with her teeth rotting out of her head like some backwoods hillbilly and there's nothing I can do about it. Because God forbid someone should miss a chance to bilk the insurance companies (or, in this case, me) out of an extra $75, even though all the preliminary work has already been done TWICE. It's been FOUR MONTHS since we found she had a cavity bad enough to require a crown. Do these people think it's going to spontaneously quit decaying? It's just getting worse and worse the longer this drags on! It seems like there should be some amount of hurry-up involved here but it seems I'm the only one who feels that way.

Oh, and I also tried explaining to the woman on the phone at Dentist C's that I really think the gas would be enough and that I'd like to try it before we knock her completely out, and she was fairly dismissive and said that was for us to determine at the consult. I love it when people who've never met my kid know more about her than I do.....or maybe that just happens when there's money involved, as I'm sure sedation pays way more than nitrous does.

If anyone knows a good dentist who is reasonable and could actually deign to make time to see Madalyn sometime before her damned teeth fall out of her head, I'm open for suggestions.

I hate Ticketmaster. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. Surely they are breaking some sort of anti-trust laws and need to be investigated, convicted and then systematically dismantled. There is some seriously unethical stuff going on at that company, not to mention that they just generally SUCK.

I figured out what a piece of sh** this company was back when the Paul McCartney debacle happened. For anyone who missed it, tickets for most Paul shows for his tour last year were unavailable from the first minute they allegedly went on sale. Thousands of people were on their computers the exact second the tickets went on sale and could not get tickets -- ANY tickets, even crummy ones. Ticketmaster claimed tickets were "unavailable". Funnily enough the scalpers had plenty to go around.

Today I am trying to search for tickets for a Christmas show in Dallas that I might want to go to with Madalyn. I wasn't sure exactly how the show was listed so I guessed twice, doing a search for the words I thought were included in the title. After two searches the Ticketmaster website locked me out "as part of the effort to prevent automatic (buying) programs from being used". After TWO searches it did this. It then suggested I wait "several minutes" before trying again. It has now been twenty minutes and I am still locked out. That's right, scalpers can somehow secure large blocks of seats for any show they want and yet I am not allowed to even look for the tickets I want because I accidentally searched for the wrong thing twice.

Can someone tell me how a company like this remains in business?

If there really is such a thing as karma, Ticketmaster will go down in flames sometime in the next couple of years. I do hope they bury it in some kind of grave so that I can go dance on it.

On the parenting website where I am on staff, a lively discussion was recently held about whether, if one had the money, one would hire a cleaning lady. My answer, of course, was, most emphatically, YES. We used to have a lady for a couple of years till we couldn't spare the money any more. Now that things are improving we are going to be hiring another one hopefully before summer is over.

Many respondents, though, expressed disdain and/or horror at the idea. One comment that kept cropping up was being loathe to "pay someone to do something I can do myself."

I early on ceased responding to the thread, as it wasn't meant for a debate and I didn't want to appear to be stirring the pot. What I would really like to have said, though, is that it isn't about whether you CAN do it yourself, it's about whether you WANT to. If you like to clean than more power to you, sister. Scrub away. I, on the other hand, don't like to clean. I hate it. It's a waste of my time. Why on earth should I spend hours slaving over something that is going to be messed up again in less than a day and that no one but the four of us is going to see? (If we have company coming, that's another story.)

It seems like this is part of a mindset I encounter quite often. In this mindset women appear to feel as though since they are home all day that they should be responsible for every last detail in every facet of home life. It's not good enough to take excellent care of the children -- which, to me, is a full-time job in and of itself -- but they should also keep a spotless house and be master chefs, as well, and be deliriously happy about doing it.

My attitude is, as you might imagine, a bit different. I stay home for my children, because I feel it's beneficial for them. I do not stay home for my husband (sorry, dear), nor do I stay home for the good of the house. My job title is stay-at-home MOM. This means 90% of my focus is directed toward the children and their upkeep and well-being and the rest, frankly, is peanuts. I'm not implying that stay-at-homes who do lots of cleaning are somehow neglectful of their children; don't get me wrong. I'm simply saying that I take issue with the notion that just because I'm here all day with the kids that designates me as the one and only housekeeping staff, as well. Who decreed this rule that if you don't work outside the home that means you're automatically responsible for cleaning every square inch of the place, and you'd better be bloody happy about it? Does SAHM actually stand for stay-at-home maid, and I just didn't get the memo?

Which leads me to another point, Part II of aforementioned mindset. This would be the part in which the SAHM is not only supposed to spend from sun-up to sundown doing for and caring for others, but she's supposed to do it all with a smile and want nothing for herself. Ever. If the opportunity ever arises for her to treat herself or take time for herself she should at least have the decency to feel guilty about doing so.

Why? Why is this? Did I stop being a person when I gave birth and decided to stay home with that offspring? I'm pretty sure I'd remember that. As far as I can tell, I'm still Mary. I still have interests and hobbies that I had before I became a SAHM. I still have just as much right as anyone else on the planet to be able to climb into bed at night and think, "Today was a really nice day." You know what doesn't fall under my definition of a nice day? Busting my ass for four hours, cleaning, while everyone else gets to do whatever they jolly well please. Do I somehow matter less than they do because of my career choice?

And I'm not talking about feeling that I'm somehow entitled to never lift a finger, either. I do plenty around the house to keep it running smoothly, and I accept that because I am the adult who is here during the day. I don't mind doing a lot of this stuff. But I don't like to clean. If someone is coming over it doesn't bother me. Just as something to do every day, for the sake of doing it, though? I don't see the point. If I can get someone else to do it for me so I can turn my attention toward more time with the kids, or completing some other types of projects around the house, I'm all for it. It's not like I'm sitting around on my butt all day eating bonbons. But, even if I was -- who cares? If I want to pay someone to come do my windows and vacuum so I can sit down for a couple hours and relax, why is that so scandalous? SAHM also does not stand for stay-at-home martyr. I'm allowed to take it easy once in a while, I'm allowed to not like to clean the house and I'm allowed to pick and choose what I spend my time doing rather than piling every conceivable responsibility on my own back. My wants and needs still matter just as much as everyone else's. If people think that's selfish, so be it. I would simply call their attention to the fact that my children are well-fed, well-dressed, highly intelligent and extremely well-behaved (I can produce witnesses). This stay-at-home mother must be doing a few things right.

I absolutely refuse to wear thongs. I think worrying about having a visible panty line is the most ridiculous thing "they" have ever come up with ("they" meaning whomever it is that sits around making arbitrary decisions about what women should and should not do in order to be attractive). Like women don't have enough we're supposed to feel self-conscious or ashamed about -- body hair in places on which we evolved (or were created) to have body hair, teeth anything other than blindingly snow white, gray hairs, skin that, horror of horrors, looks to be anything over 25 years old -- need I go on? On top of it all I am now apparently supposed to feel absolutely mortified if I have visible panty line. Now I'm expected to wear a strip of fabric wedged up my bum-oley just so I don't offend anyone with the evidence that I wear underwear? I don't think so. Don't like it? Don't look at my ass. That way everyone wins.

Not to mention the fact that having the buttcrack uncovered and unchecked provides the opportunity for any other fabrics in the vicinity, i.e. pants or skirts, to take up residence. I have seen, more than once, a woman with a flowy skirt and a thong on stand up and have her skirt caught in her crack, or, when wearing pants, display that unattractive "my bum is eating my slacks" look. I guess it's a matter of deciding what would embarrass one more.

No offense meant to my thong-wearing pals, either. It's a personal choice. I don't particularly care what someone choses to wear for underclothing -- and that includes whether or not I can see evidence of its existence or not. I just think it's an extremely silly thing worry about and I wonder where it will stop. It seems like, at some point, we will eventually get to where we're expected to be embarrassed to leave the house if we have even one hair out of place or one spot on our faces or with a broken nail. It seems like the standard of beauty is getting more and more nitpicky every year.

Just a little peeve to start the weekend:

It drives me absolutely insane when people cannot spell the word "dilemma". It seems like five out of six people I see using the word online spell it incorrectly.

The most common misspelling I see is "delima". Okay, fine, you don't know how to spell it, but THAT spelling? Is not even how it's pronounced!!! The word is pronounced dill-lem-ma. Not dee-lime-ah. And "delima" spells dee-lime-ah. It sounds like a guy from Jamaica talking about beans.

And don't even get me started on "could of" and "should of" instead of could've and should've. *Falls on the floor, gnashing teeth and foaming at the mouth*

Best wishes for the weekend, everyone!

Or, more accurately, if you were a complete moron like I am, where would you have stashed said pole to keep it away from the kids?

I have a tapestry to hang in my living room. It has a decorative metal pole from which to hang it. I have had the tapestry a while but only just yesterday decided to hang it up. I started getting prepared.....and realized I have no frigging idea where the pole went.

I do remember that JZ was playing with it a while back. It is pretty heavy and solid metal so I took it away from him and put it.....somewhere. Now I can't find it. I have looked in both hallway closets, under all the furniture, behind all the furniture, in the sunroom and in my bedroom closet. I am now out of places to look and it hasn't turned up yet. All that remains is one of the finials that screws on the end of it, which is sitting on my mantle, looking forlorn.

Seriously, how can you lose a four-foot long metal pole???

Oh yes, and if anyone finds my short-term memory? I'd really appreciate having it back. Thanks.

I've just been doing a bit of sleuthing and happened to discover that Movable Type has been ever-so-kindly taking it upon itself to junk some of the comments you lovely people are leaving me. I wouldn't have known except my friend Dave, whose comments usually go through, mentioned he'd left me one yesterday and it had disappeared. This led me to poke around in my control panel and I discovered the "Junk" section. Sure enough, Dave's comment was there, along with ten others from the past week that never posted. When someone posts a comment I'm supposed to get it in email....but since these comments weren't actually posting I was never made aware of their existence. I haven't the slightest clue what possible criteria the program could be identifying that would make it categorize certain comments as junk (especially since more than half of the comments were made by people who've made comments previously and not had a problem). But now that I know I will be checking the junk folder every day and also will do what I can to tweak the settings so it isn't so militant.

If you've left a comment since I got my new design and it never showed up -- this is what happened. I'm thinking that comments are only kept in the junk folder for a specific amount of time and then automatically deleted, so I'm wondering if there is a bunch of stuff I missed altogether which is now gone for good. At any rate, my apologies to anyone who's had this happen. Please don't let it discourage you from commenting in the future. I have identified the problem and will be monitoring the junk folder closely.

1. Sycophants and "yes men" (or women). It absolutely sets my teeth on edge when people continually kiss the ass of someone in a position of power. I have seen people doing this even when the person in charge is very nice, reasonable, and neither requires, expects or falls for that kind of behavior. It is just not in my nature to be that way. I'd have a hard time doing it even if I thought it was a good idea. I'm sorry but if the boss takes a dump I'm not going to tell her it smells like flowers, if you get my drift. It drives me insane when the boss could come in and say, "We're going to start lining up the customers and shooting them in the face as soon as they walk in the door," and twelve people would say, "That's a GREAT idea" Now, I'm not saying one should walk around work (or wherever) blasting every decision made and trumpeting every single disagreement they have with the higher-ups. A little prudence should always be exercise, in the interest of self-preservation. But I'm more of the school of thought that, if I don't like something, I may not tell the person in charge, "I HATE THIS!" but I also am not going to smile and bob my head excitedly and lie through my teeth about it. If it's in my best interests to keep quiet, I will, but I also won't pretend I think it's an awesome decision, and, if asked, I would be honest. Also, there are other times when something is a fine or at least okay idea, or a point of clarification is made and people fall all over themselves in a rush to praise the bearer of the news, as though the entire point of the information was a test to see who would make the effort to brown-nose over it. (One specific person at a former job really sticks out in my mind for this.)

I am not sure what's more irritating: people who suck-up and glad-hand a person in authority who really has no desire to even be treated that way but is too nice to say so, and therefore it's completely unnecessary, or situations where the guy in charge is a pompous blowhard and thinks he deserves to have his butt smooched (a la Donald Trump) yet the people under him are so intimidated and so desperate to make money that they continue to stroke his already grossly inflated ego by kowtowing.

2. This is a close relative of #1. It drives me completely up the wall when people say things they don't mean. If someone has an idea and it doesn't interest you, fine! But don't tell the person how great it is and how much you look forward to it when you have no intention of ever participating. I'm not saying you should spit in the person's face and tell them their idea sucks. I'm just saying, if you aren't on board with something DON'T pretend that you are! The old adage goes, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it," NOT "If you don't have anything nice to say, lie." Just be quiet, for crying out loud. You are NOT winning friends and making people feel good by lying to them about being interested in something and then blowing them off later. That causes a LOT more upset than someone not showing interest from the start or, heaven forbid, actually being honest and saying, "I can't participate right now."

This YouTube business is beginning to aggravate me very much.

I tried uploading a video clip the other night. It took till the following morning to show up (which I understand is normal). Okay, fine -- but when it did show up it said the transfer had failed because it was an "invalid file format." Now, the video is an .AVI file, which YouTube's FAQ explicitly states is an accepted file format.

So I email the people. First it took them about three business days to get back to me. Then, when I did get the response today, it was some bullshit form letter about how it takes a long time for videos to show up as available. Which has absolutely NOTHING to do with what I was asking. I am sick unto death of these so-called tech support departments. They don't actually READ what you've written. They scan it for keywords and regurgitate some pre-composed response based on that. If a real, live person would've just glanced over my email (which was one small paragraph; it's not like it was frigging War and Peace) they wouldn't have had any trouble understanding what I was trying to say. But, no, these companies don't give a crap about decent customer service. Why let your customers get in contact with actual human beings when you can link it all up to a computer system that enables you to ignore any problems?

If this was an isolated incident I wouldn't be so steamed. But I would hazard a guess that a good 75% of the times I have ever emailed any sort of tech support or help desk this has happened. I am always VERY specific in describing an incident and the answers I get sent back have absolutely no relation to what I was asking. Even when I specifically say "I read this part in your FAQ and I attempted to solve the problem using this method" they STILL send back a damned form letter telling me to try the solution I JUST TOLD THEM I TRIED ALREADY!!!!

This is where greed and avarice have gotten us in this country, folks. Customer service has been sacrificed on the altar of the almighty Profit Margin. The new corporate slogan is "Screw you.....but give us all your money first."

So we have an artificial tree that is pre-lit. Cosmo has taken to sleeping under it since there are no gifts, which doesn't bother me (except I will probably have to have my tree skirt drycleaned for all the hair *sigh* ).

The other day I saw him gnawing at something at the bottom of the tree. I thought he was just chewing on the branch part and I yelled at him and he ran away.

Well, yesterday I got down there to straighten the skirt and I found broken light bulb lying on the tree skirt. That colossal MORON is chewing on the Christmas lights!!!! WHILE THEY'RE PLUGGED IN, I might add!

I caught him at it again today and squirted the ever-loving crap out of him with a water bottle. I figure the dimwit is either going to electrocute himself, Christmas Vacation-style, or he will ingest glass and die of internal injuries.

Natural selection at work, folks.

(By the way, I understand that he is a CAT and has no grasp of the concept that electricity = not for eating. What I don't get is, why the hell is he doing it in the first place? What on earth could be even remotely appealing about gnawing a glass lightbulb? Really, is he THAT bored? Because I could totally borrow the neighbors' insane cocker spaniels and turn them loose in the house if he needs something to do. It's no problem. Really.)

I got a swell-sounding meatloaf recipie off Kraftfoods.com and decided to make it tonight. Their directions instruct you to cook the loaves for 25 minutes. I thought that sounded somewhat short, but, hey, I'm no cook.

Well, I pulled the pan out after about 27 minutes, cut the center of one open, and it wasn't just not done, sucker was raw. I put it back in for another 15 minutes, which made some improvement but it was STILL not all the way cooked. The timer has now just beeped signaling the end of another ten minutes. Perhaps 25 minutes over and above the suggested cook time will do the trick, eh what?

Gaaaaaahhhh! Bloody Celine Dion befouling John's "Happy Xmas (War is Over)"! Back, back! In the name of all that is good and holy, be gone, you anorexic cow! Head pounding.....ears bleeding.....gaaaaahhh!!!!

The XM radio, it is a double-edged sword.

Oh my dear Lord in heaven!

You know how sometimes there are times when you do something and it does occur to you, however fleetingly, that it might upset someone? And then there are other times when it never crosses your mind, not even for a millisecond, that anyone could possibly have any problem with what you are about to do? Have you ever had anyone get pissed off at you in the latter situation?

It just happened to me and I'm completely gobsmacked. And it's not that I was deluding myself into thinking that nobody would get angry about it; it is honest-to-goodness something that is so extremely minor, so unimportant, that the thought of someone getting ragingly pissed about it is ludicrous. Not to mention that this is a person with whom I've never had "issues" before, so it's not like it was to be expected. This didn't come out of left field, this came from, like, Mars or something.

Making it worse is the fact that the person threw a big, semi-public hissy fit (without actually saying who or what was the trouble - passive-aggressive, much?) and also, apparently, has been complaining to two mutual acquaintances about how awful I am for this heinous crime against humanity.

I sure hope the person has a good weekend. He/she apparently needs it because today must have just sucked.

Dear Trackback Ping Spammers,

I hope you die very soon. Slowly and painfully would be preferable.

Actually, that's probably not very good for my karma.

Okay, let's apply that sentiment to your financial lives only. I hope the bottom drops so far out of your "business" that you would need a spelunking license to go find it. You could go get a job cleaning the toilets in the Port Authority on your hands and knees with a toothbrush and it would still be a hundred times more respectable than what you are doing now, you perverted, bottom-feeding, sorry excuse for a human being. If you think you're getting any business from anyone who reads this blog, you are truly as insane as I imagine you to be. And, in closing: bite me.

Yours truly,
Mary

Why, WHY do wasps like my house so much? You can go outside at any given time and find one or more mud-daubers' nests in progress, either right on the bricks or along the windows. What is this? Is there a sign on my house, written in Waspish, that says "Sceliphron caementarium welcome here"?

I just knocked down an enormous, multi-celled nest yesterday on the back porch. As I was doing so, several larvae fell out and some insect-like things I took to be dead wasps. That's funny, I thought. So they build a nest and climb into it and die? Fortunately for me I did not discover until more than 24 hours later that, no, those were not mama mud-daubers. They were spiders. S.P.I.D.E.R.S. Apparently the wasps paralyze spiders and then stuff them into the nursery for junior to feed upon at a later date.

God, I love nature. [/shudder]

By the way, that's the kind of decorating tip I'd really like to see on Martha Stewart's new show. Your baby could be the only kid in town with a room packed with arachnids. Just think what a conversation starter! Of course, most of the conversations would consist of, "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!" and a lot of running and shrieking, but that's the price you pay for being avant garde.

I'm coming out of the closet: two weeks ago we sold my car -- my beloved '99 Toyota 4Runner that I got, brand-new, with only 8 miles on it, from the dealership.

Well, I guess I'm truly a part of the blogosphere now. Some assmunch has been putting trackback pings on my older entries -- hey, would you like some eggs with your Spam, dickweed? Fortunately Zoot is going to configure MT for me so that my comments/trackbacks will be closed after a specific amount of time to prevent this from happening any more.

And, just in case they are reading -- nice choice, jerkwad. A whole three people read this blog. That's really worth your time!

What is the deal with people on Ebay?

I have been watching some DVDs that I want for the kids to take on the plane to California next month. They are all currently in print and readily available at stores all across the country. The reason I was watching them was because I was hoping to get them for a few dollars off what I'd pay in the store. However, in the past day or so, at least two of the DVDs have sold for more than what they would cost at Walmart -- once you figure in shipping, that is.

So what are these people thinking? Do they think shipping somehow "doesn't count" when you are figuring how much you paid for something? Because, correct me if I'm wrong, but if the money is coming out of your pocket then it is, most assuredly, part of the total expense entertained when securing that purchase. One fool paid a total of $14.50 for an Elmo video that I'm finding on Amazon for $9.74. Add shipping and it's still less than the Ebay cost. I also found it, used but in excellent condition, on Amazon's Marketplace for under $7.50 ($10 total). Not to mention that if you went to a store in person you could've also gotten it for around ten bucks, all told.

I try not to expect people to be like me too much. I know everyone is different. I notice everything. I'm all about the details. I remember what I have seen kids' DVDs selling for at the store. And I know that not everyone has a memory for minutiae like I do. But I don't think it's too much to ask that people not automatically assume something is a bargain because they got it on Ebay. I have seen my fair share of sellers trying to soak people there. What they are counting on is for some schmo to come along, all, "Hey, it must be a good deal. It's on Ebay!" And the herd mentality I witness there just astounds me. People see a bunch of other people bidding on something and, lemming-like, they rush to be a part of the contest before stopping to consider whether the item is even worth all the fuss.

I bet Mr. (or Ms.) DVD-seller is laughing all the way to his Paypal account right now.

I entered my first request for tickets at 10:04 (went on sale at 10) and I could not get anything. Apparently no one else could, either, judging by the thread on the McCartney forums. Which begs the question: if they didn't sell the tickets to the general public in the "general public sale" then where the hell did they go? I've tried upwards of fifty times and the two times tickets came up they were bad seats and not worth the money. Now all that's left is ticket brokers, scalpers and Ebay, for those who have available credit lines or lots of cash, or, for people like me, who could barely scrape together enough for tickets at face value, it's the end of the line. Oh, sure, I could probably find some upper-level tickets from a broker for the amount of money I have. But I'm not spending five hundred dollars to watch a stupid concert on a stupid Jumbotron.

So, thanks a lot, Paul and all who were involved in this brilliant decision-making process. Glad all the corporate bigwigs and radio stations and rich people were able to get their tickets. You must have had half the arena reserved for them because there were people who were on at 10:00, exactly, and couldn't get tickets. I didn't realize I'd have to have superhuman powers to secure tickets. Thanks for wasting my time. Hope you have a good tour.

Boy, oh boy, it must be nice to not only be morally superior to 97% of the population but to also hold the position of Grand High Poobah of Reproach and Chastisement (Value Judgements Division). How does one get that position, anyway? It is appointed? Is there some kind of election I missed out on? And how are the health benefits?