there are those in this world...

who would argue that this number should be higher. but those people are just bitchy.

You Are 35% Bitchy

You're a pretty sweet person, and you're definitely not prone to bitchy outbursts.Sometimes, though, you can't help thinking mean thoughts about people. But at least you don't act on them!

How Bitchy Are You?

this silly mohilly

this kid...

this little goof....

the love of my life (sorry, honey)...

is Citizen of the Month at his school this month. He gets a pizza lunch with the principal, and Mom gets a bumper sticker for her car.
All this, and school has been in session for only two weeks.

Mom gets a bumper sticker. i'm going to Cafe Press and get myself a shirt:

"My nephew was Citizen of the Month and all i got was this lousy shirt"

-or-

"Citizen of the Month for President"

hey - he's only six and already he has more character than those ten times his age.

i couldn't be prouder of him.

i could have sat all night....

my neck...it's freaking tight as hell.

so i stopped at a nail/spa place on the way home to inquire if they did neck/shoulder massage.

oh you betcha. 15 minutes for 12 dollars.

a bargain at half the price. my massuse asked if i wanted to keep going for 1/2 an hour.
more than life itself. however...my fear was that i wouldn't be able to drive home.

oh boy. totally fun.

i want more. more, more, more.

hey - there's always tomorrow, right?

in other news...

started WW again last week, so last night was the first weigh in...
me: down 3.4
him: down 4.4

Hubbs was really surprised & pleased..he ran out of points at one day. so now i'm confident he's seeing that it's something he can stick with.

stay tuned...


oh and on the way home, i saw this on the sign outside a church on my way home:

We support the separation between church & hate.

amen.

photographic evidence

that my cat is insane. not just evil, but insane.
hoping to get a leg up...
evil lurks in my dirty laundry...

and yes, that is his head shoved firmly against our patio door.

having problems in decision making?

or is it just my household?

Two thing occurred to me the other day: 1) Hubbs & i, even as adults, are at times incapable of making even the simplest decision. Dinner, for example. The conversation goes like this:

me: So, where do you want to go for dinner tonight?

Hubbs: i don't know. What sounds good to you?

me: i'm not sure. i'm not sure anything sounds outstanding.

Hubbs: Well...what about chickie? (insert chicken sound here)

me: no.

Hubbs: Beefie? (insert mooing here, and yes, he will say beefie)

me: hmmmmm...keep that on the backburner.

Hubbs: Fishie? (no fish sounds, that would be weird. He makes a swimming fish with his hands)

me: Possibly. Where? (we have two local fish restaurants we really like; one has an extensive selection, the other a much smaller selection)

Hubbs: Well, then let us consult The Coin of Wisdom!

(Here's number two: we are so incapable of decision making at times, we have to flip a coin to see where we'll eat dinner. Holy fickle people, Batman. )

So one of us will pull out a quarter (has to be a quarter or a larger coin. Don't ask why, i'm positive i don't want to discuss that in therapy), decide which restaurant is for which side and flip it.

And yes, The Coin of Wisdom's decision is final and absolute. But you would think that two fully grown, somewhat educated adults would have the smarts to make a bloody decision. Especially over something as simple as dinner.

Or maybe not.

Let me get a quarter out.

going down uncharted territory.

i was talking to a friend of mine today. we don't get together too often, but when we do, it's like i just saw her yesterday.

she recently moved to Florida and while talking about the new house, the kids' new school, her husband's new job, and her looking for work, she blurted this out.

"did you ever think that maybe your husband isn't the one you're supposed to be with?"
"what?"
"it's not that i don't love Nathaniel (obviously, names changed to protect them....i have permission to share this, because it made me think). i do. i love him more than anything. but i keep wondering if this is the life i'm supposed to lead. is this where i'm supposed to be?"

i know most people go through some period of doubt about their lives. if they chose the right job, the right car, hell, even if they chose the right outfit. but doubt about choosing the right mate...

marrying Hubbs, i know, was the right decision for me. do i ever wonder why i did? sure, on occasion. especially when he irritates the living crap out of me. but i'm in this for the long haul. marriage isn't always work, but when it is, i'm up for it. challenges interest me.

sometimes i wonder why it is God decided to not give us children. but that, my friends, is something i will not have the answer to. not in this life, anyway.

this place, this time - is where i'm supposed to be. God never makes a mistake. He never questions His motives. we do, as humans, but that was in the plan.

that's why it's called faith. faith is the belief in things not seen. or known.

and faith tells me i'm right where i'm supposed to be. i will likely question the road as it turns where i wasn't expecting. that's human nature.

but i know Who plotted the course on Mapquest. i'm right where i'm supposed to be.

let the creative juices flow.

creativity - thou art a fickle mistress.

you come, you entice, you leave.

bee-atch.

i started all gung-ho on a tag book for my sister-in-law. note: why am i making things for others? am i really that nice or just to dumb to make something for myself?
keeping it in greens, blues - sea colors. pictures are of the niece & nephew here in Seal Beach last Christmas.

yes, here in Mostly Smoggy So. Cal., we can go to the beach in the dead o' winter. nah, nah, nah, nah, naaaa, naaaaaaah.

like i said, i started out good. then petered out.

i don't get it. why is it that things go so well, then...fade away like mascara after a 15 hour day.

just don't get it.

so, i'm doing the only thing i can. just walk away.

and whine about it on my blog.

pictures forthcoming. whining included at no extra charge.

getting your mind out of the toilet.

Are you one of those that believes things happen in threes? You know, celebrities seem to go in threes. sidenote: if i were a celebrity, i would start worrying when my comprades started to go. after all, i could be next.
Things just sometimes happen in threes. Could be coincidence, could be not.

Then again....

Yesterday morning, while drying my hair, i leaned across to the Husband's bathroom to ask him something. Something caught my eye as it flipped through the air.

It was a picture my father in law took, in the early 70's. It landed safely on the sink. However, the name badge he wore when he worked for the Walt Disney Co., wasn't so lucky.

It plopped smack dab in the toilet.

This is the third time i've had something flop in the can. Twice at work, i've had my company badge do a one and a half with a twist (i'd give that dive a 9.0, Mel) in the bowl.

Thankfully, it's happened after the flush.

The first time, i seriously considered leaving the badge in there. Then i realized that it would probably cause a clog, and since my name & picture are on it...well...i'd better go fetch it.

i'll tell you this: my arm has a mind of its own and did not want to go toilet diving. i made up to my arm by scrubbing about four layers of skin off, then gave it a good soaking in anti-bacterial hand gel.

Imagine my joy when the same thing happened a few weeks later.

i've gotten smart. Now, i take the bloody thing off before i go answer the Call of Nature.

Then came yesterday.

Again, at least it was a clean toilet, but still. Gross.

So this time, i got a hanger out of the closet & fished it out. After a refreshing bath in rubbing alcohol, it was ready to go back to its rightful spot in the knick-knack shelf in my bathroom.

Three times the charm, right? This could be the end of my career as a toilet diver.

Or i'll just secure all loose items before boarding. Happy Friday.

i've got a million of 'em....

Deep Thought by Jack Handy:
If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is "God is crying." And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is "Probably because of something you did."

so profound.

and this one...

A priest, a rabbi & a Baptist minister were discussing the best methods of conversion. They actually decided to test their methods against...a baby bear.
So the priest went in to the forest to talk to the bear.
The next day they met for coffee & the priest said, "oh, to be sure - i spoke with the wee cub and explained the rites of Catholicism. Faith & begorrah, i do believe the boyo will be on his way"
The next day was the Baptist minister's turn.
They met again for breakfast and the minister spoke of his meeting with the cub.
"Indeed - i explained the gospel to the animal, and even though he couldn't speak, i believe he understood the truths i laid before him"
Now it was the rabbi's turn.
The two met in the usual place, and were shocked when the rabbi came in, cut, bruised with an arm in a sling.
"For the love of Pete, man!" the priest exclaimed. "What has happened to you?"
"Well," the rabbi said, "for starters, i shouldn't start explaining Judaism by mentioning circumcision."

thhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhank you! you've been a fabulous audience! i'm here all week, don't forget to tip your waiters & waitresses, they work hard to take care of you!

i just realized everything has a religous bend to it...so don't take offense, please. i go to church as well, and have a deep & abiding faith. but these are funny.

the family that diets together -

- becomes bitchy together.

Wouldn't you agree?

So last night, Husband & i headed on over to my local WW center, and signed up. At least it was a little more budget friendly, since it was free registration...and since it was free registration, 20, 000 people were there to sign up.

So there you go.

i'm a little worried, because i don't feel the same sense of urgency that i did when i joined in January. Maybe i needed a little break. Maybe a fresh start will do me good.

Or not.

Today it begins. A return to the carrots. The celery. The lots & lots of water & frequent trips to the ladies room.

Not only that, but guys seem to lose weight faster & easier than we do. So i'll also be dealing with Husband losing a gazillion pounds in the time it'll take me to only lose 10.

Grrrrrr.

It's OK. i just keep reminding myself that i need to do it. It's healthy. i'll feel even better. And by the Grace of God, i will avoid the most horrible consequence of all: being back in the hospital to have my back worked on again.

Hey - those carrots don't seem so bad after all. Wish us luck!

i know it sounds weird...

but i really enjoy doing laundry.

weird, huh?

Sunday mornings, i head over to our local mega laundromat. it's HUGE - everything from single load washers to 10 loaders. . .6 dryers that'll hold a gazillion loads, and a million dryers that hold lotsa loads.

i don't mind laundromats...i like the fact that in the time it takes most folks, at home, to wash & dry one load, i can do five.

gotta love that.

and...i LOVE Tide with Febreze. which matches the Downey with Febreze and Bounce with Febreze.

so even after sitting in my closet for a week, my clothes still smell like they just got washed.

gotta love that even more.

here's hoping your Sunday is filled with things that make you happy.

shhh.

Loving the silence.

No TV. No CD. No radio.

Just me, the cat, the computer & a snoring husband in the other room (but the door is shut, hence, the silence).

It's just what makes a weekend so totally cool...The fact that the pace is (usually) different than during the week. That for most adults, it's just chill time. Do whatcha wanna. Eat Lucky Charms for breakfast (which i do, anyway).

Even though i'm wishing i could've slept longer than 5:30 this a.m., i'm really enjoying this silence.

Be still and know.

i *heart* photo software

i do, i do, i do, i do.

really, really, really.

i can modify the colors and turn a crappy photo with too much light in to a fairly well developed photo.

or, put a hue filter on it (like the bottom photo) & viola! it looks like a float in the Main Street Electrical Parade.

it's Microsoft Digital Suite, iffn' you're interested. Does a lot of the things Photoshop does, but obviously at much less the price.

for instance...

i have a photo i took in Philadelphia, of a field in the back of my hotel. Only problem, it had a drainage ditch & phone wires in it. But all i had to do is go into the program, and circle the parts i didn't like..and like magic, they're gone. Leaving only the sweet meadow surround it, by copying parts of the field around it.

i love stuff that makes me look smarter & more talented than i really am.

now if only i can find some software that makes me about 30lbs thinner, so i wouldn't have to rejoin WW.

hell. i'd pay full retail for that.

finally Friday -

and although this happened yesterday, i feel it merits mention.

Worked a 1/2 day yesterday to meet up with our friends at Disneyland - the Crowdest Place on Earth. Actually, it wasn't too bad yesterday and my crowning achievement was that on Buzz Lightyear's Astro Blasters, i beat both crack shot boys..by a large margin. (the ride is best described as riding through a shooting gallery, shooting laser guns at targets throughout the ride, while you destroy Emperor Zurg's power) Don't think i wasn't proud!

So - i told you that story to tell you this story.

Before i left work, i went in to the office where we store our work..did some filing, some sorting, and i'll now stop boring you with those details. Came back to my desk and noticed something weird sounding, coming out of my radio.

It was Prince "i would die 4 U". On the country music station i usually listen to.

What th'...?

So at first, i thought the station tuning moved. Nope, it's the correct setting. Well, it can't be April Fools...what th'?

So later on, i find out that at 10a.m. yesterday, the only country music station in the Southern California area, switched from country to "movin'" music. And later on, Rick Dees will be hosting the morning show on "The New Movin' 93.9"

What th'.....?!

So the only other station i know of is out in San Bernardino..i can get it on my radio, but i'm bugged already. See, their mascot is a frog, so there's a lot of ribbiting and "have a froggy morning!" crap going on.

Just play my damn Keith Urban, and leave the frog behind.

i just don't get it. The station's website says that soon the station will be streaming on the internet and playing country. So, it'll be dance music on the radio, but country on the internet? The station claims to be "America's Most Listened to Country Station."

Maybe it's not the most profitable one.

yarrrrr!

yo-ho, yo-ho & prepare to be boarded.

You are a Pirate Second Class

Do you remember the last time you took a chance? I do. It was when you decided to leave the security of your mother's womb and headed for the bright light. It's time to head for the next bright light, my friend. Creativity is not your strong suit. You are good at doing what you are told to do and that, in itself, is a gift. It's not a gift to you, mind you, but rather a gift to those who will be there to tell you what to do. You like long walks on the beach and cuddling, but would never admit that to your Guy friends who think you are okay but can't always remember your name. Tapioca pudding seems a bit extreme for a fellow such as yerself, what with all the bumps and stuff. It's a good thing ye be on a pirate ship, otherwise, ye'd would be walkin' because ye be positively pedestrian. Have a nice day.

What's Yer Inner Pirate?
brought to you by The Official Talk Like A Pirate Web Site. Arrrrr!

what's the world coming to?

Is the End near?

Have gas prices dropped to dizzying lows?

Am i suddenly blond & skinny?

Because i came home yesterday to find my DH watching Lifetime - Television for Women.

That is not a typo.

My darling husband...who refuses to wear pastel shirts...who eschews the local Love Song radio station...is watching some gawd-awful show on Lifetime.

What the Sam Hill.

I had to leave the room. Not only to stop my laughing, but because my teeth were hurting, it was so sweet.

Come on. i KNOW i still have Dog on the DVR. Anything would be better.

But Lifetime? Have mercy.

Next thing you know he'll call our satellite provider to get the Soap Opera channel put on our package.

I'm off to bed.

customer service and me...

or how i learned to stop caring.

Well, not me.

Yesterday, i drove the Blue Bomber out to the local mall. Needed to make a stop at Sephora (a wonderful candy store chock full of makeup, perfume, and all the things that we chickas love.) for some necessities: mascara. Eye liner. New Perfume.

You know, all the stuff that the men we love say we don't need. But skip one day without it and it's, "bloody hell - you're not going out looking like THAT are you?"

Anywho....whilst i was stumbling around, looking for an eyeshadow that i didn't need (just like i don't need new 12x12 paper, or embellishments, but that's another post), i counted eight employees in the store.

One was working the register. One was applying makeup to another customer. The other six were yakking about.

There were maybe around four of us customers in the store. And i watched with amazement & amusement as the employees would ask the other customers how they were doing, do they need any help, blah, blah, blah.

Was i offended? Perhaps. But i realized that all the customers they were talking to were about their age.

Hey. i'm no fool. i wouldn't want to waste my time with an old broad like me, either (even if i do think i'm cool & fun, and well, you get the idea.) But then i realized something that made me laugh. Hard.

I have WAY more disposable income. i can spend, spend, spend. And unless these hottie-totties have Daddy's inheritance or a platinum card, they've got a budget. Me - i do as i please.

Muh-hahahahahahaha.

It may be a "young persons" world, but there's more of us than there are of them. People my age are the new majority. We're freaking taking over!

And the revolution will be televised. Coming to you live from Sephora.

check this out

www.payattention.org

woooooooooo, Mexico...

i haven't really been, so i don't really know. wo-wo-wooooooo, Mexico. Guess i'll have to go now.

Lyrics courtesy of Sweet Baby James Taylor.

Why am i up so bloody early on a Saturday when i don't have to go to work?! Well, it's like this. i have been ejected from my own bed by my own family.

Do i snore? Youbetcha. But so does my husband. No, Gentle Reader, i have been evicted because Brendan & my furbaby are BEDHOGS.

It's not the first time this has happened. The husband in the middle of the bed. The cat stretched out between us. Me on my side with about 12 inches of bedspace for my 24 inch wide arse.

You get the picture.

And eventually sleeping in the same position on the same side where arthritis is developing..well..to hell with it. So, i'm up. Reading blogs.

Here's where this complaint about my arthritic arse becomes connected to James Taylor's song about Mexico.

Tara & her family went to Mexico recently and this a.m. posted pictures. It reminded me of the time years ago when B & i went down there to Rosarito Beach for a long weekend.

Yum.

We went with no agenda except to drink beer, eat lobster & carne asada & freshly made tortillas.
We succeeded on all counts.

We stayed where a girlfriend of mine always goes, and because we went off season, got an ocean-front room for way cheap. Took a drive down the coast (where we passed a Mexican soldier who was all of 17, carrying an AK-47) to a fishing village where we had a three pound lobster tail with GOOD rice & beans & again, home made tortillas for about $10. We were glad to pay it & they were glad to take it.

Yum. Yum. Yum.

Made me wish again that B worked a standard Monday-Friday shift/job, so we would have the entire weekend together, instead of just Sunday.

Made me wish i had taken off Monday.

Made me hungry. Made me wish for a vacation i can take where i don't have to dump my eyedrops before i get on the plane.

Way down here you need a reason to move
Feel a fool running your stateside games
Lose your load, leave your mind behind, baby james
Oh, mexico
It sounds so simple i just got to go
The sun's so hot i forgot to go home
Guess i'll have to go now

here's the happier post i promised...

it may just be me, but did you ever notice that in "Austin Powers in Goldmember," that Scott Evil (Seth Green) looks like Ron Howard's illegitimate son?

or is it just me?

so what can i say...

last night, i had a bit of a mini meltdown.

i'm still not sure what brought it on, but there it was. and there i was, sobbing like a fiend.

PMS? naaah.

it was the sudden onset of sadness because we have no babies.

it's been a long road to get here. not as long as others, and certainly not what others have gone through, but enough for me.

first came the tests. then the procedures. take your temperature. log everything. chart your periods & how long they last. face the new moon at 11:50 at night, stand naked & make sure your bum faces north by northwest.

ok, so i made the last one up. sure felt like it at times.

then comes the advice. check your cervical fluids (sorry all you guys that read). have sex this many times in this order on the day when your temperature reaches this spike. stick a pillow under your bum. lie still. don't get up.

hell, i seriously considered putting a trapize in our bedroom, but not for what you were thinking.

did i mention the drugs? clomid...i believe it's Latin for ugggh. i don't understand how a drug that is to stimulate egg manufacturing can make you feel like you're going through menopause. my nightmare was that i would turn on the news to this:

"good evening. today's top story: a local Buena Park woman is pregnant with sextuplet. her husband has left the country."

well, ya gotta laugh, right?

i don't understand. i don't understand how God can give me such a desire for children, and yet deny them to me. how He can allow teenagers (and others) to get pregnant, especially when He knows that this baby will end up in a trash bin someplace.

i don't freaking get it.

it hurts so bad sometimes that i can hardly breathe. it makes me rail against God. not my faith, but i just don't get it.

i'm angry. i'm hurting. i'm frustrated.

i'm infertile.

if you're a regular reader of this missive, then you know that adoption just isn't an option here, for reasons i don't want to revisit again.

i understand i'm not the only one facing this crap. i know i'm not the only one who cries and rages and screams because of the bullshot of this situation. i'm not the only one who cannot understand why the desire to be a mommy is there, but the gift is denied.

there's no answers. there's nothing anyone can say or do to ease this feeling. i am grateful to God that it doesn't hurt like this every day.

but every day, something somewhere reminds me that we don't have kids. that i can't give my husband children.

it's not right. it isn't fair. and i know life isn't fair. but i'm tired of feeling this pain.

i gotta laugh. because i'm tired of crying.

tomorrow will be a happier post. i promise.

changing how you talk to me.

not that you care. and based on how many of you comment (hi Linda! hi Becky! hi Doug!), you probably don't.

but i've changed my comment moderations so you can comment, even if you're not a registered user of Blogger.

let the insanity begin.

Defending my ice cream

tonight - whilst enjoying a verboten bowl of Thrifty Drug Store (now Rite-Aid) ice cream, i was taken back to the late 80's.

no, the ice cream does not have time travel capabilities.

it reminded me of an essay i wrote. heck if i can remember why or for who i wrote it for. well...here it goes:

On Breaking a Diet

It's 9:30 on Monday night. Stores have closed, and people are out, crusing the night...except for me. I'm at home, toughing out the first few days of a diet, surrounded by Diet Coke & packs of sugar free gum. Lots of gum. Oh, and the TV food commercials. How nice. I'm SO hungry.

Then it happens.

"Thrifty's ice cream. Creamy. Nutty. Chocolately." (I'm beginning to believe I'm nutty for watching this. It's only torture. I'll change the channel. My hand refuses to move.) "Available in half gallons, hand scooped cones or lovingly hand packed pints and quarts. Come. Taste what has brought us honor at numerous state & county fairs. Only at Thrifty's."

The screen changes. I relax, thankful the torment is over...but only for a moment. I feel evil...unclean. The devil is here, in this same room. Sweat breaks out over my body. I wish for for Richard Simmons to confess to. The end is near and I need redemption.

So I grab a 3 Muskateers bar, rip the wrapper off and eat it.

I know...but what the hell. At least I don't feel guilty.

i'm an optimistic pessimist.

Anne Frank once said "Deep down, I truly believe that people are still good at heart."

That, my friends, is faith.

i, however, don't have that kind of faith. The events of today in Great Britain make me believe otherwise.

Call me naive, but i just don't get how people can interpreted their Faith in God - whoever they call God - as reason or excuse to kill people.

So now, again because of a-hole zealots, i and millions of travelers cannot carry bottles of water on a plane, we need to buy shampoo when we get to our destination AND new mothers will have to drink their baby's formula in front of TSA officials.

Talk about nasty stuff.

What if they breast feed? Will the mom have to spontaneously lactate to prove she's not AlQuida?

Whatever. I know these people are trying to protect "us" from "them," but sometimes, please - a little common sense is in order.

Other things shaking my faith in mankind...across the street from Casa de Us, is a little mini mart. The nicest man & his wife running the place. i'd go for milk, eggs or that last-minute lotto ticket.

They got robbed Tuesday. He was shot. Along with a customer who walked in later.

Wrong place, VERY wrong time.

The criminals (probably misunderstood & didn't get the Nintendo game he wanted as a kid - which is why they turned to a life of crime) came in the store, asked for cigarettes, and when the owner of the store turned to get them, the a-holes shot him.

The owner was soooooooo smart. He fell down & played dead.

A-holes took the register, then when the other guy came in, they shot him. Both are expected to survive, but Moe (the owner of the store) will probably lose his eye.

The entertainment factor came when the gas station next to the market has been overrun with members of the Fourth Estate & their newsvans. Watching a story unfold & reporting it to the masses. And my neighbors are outside watching the whole thing.

It's a party in Buena Park.

The story does have a good ending...the a-holes turned themselves in last night to the police.

Hey. Maybe there still is some good in people after all.

paying attention to the road.

the things you see on cars these days.

"Dumber than Advertised" - and -
"Somewhere in Texas, a village is missing it's idiot."

(could the two be connected? the truth is out there.)

"Kobe Bryant's Future Baby Momma"

(only if you are smoking hot.)

"Seat Belts: They're Not Just For Smart People Anymore"

"He who laughs last is slowest"

(wait....what? oh, i get it)

"I've spent all my money on eating out & scrapbooking supplies.
"The rest i just wasted."

(amen that)

"If at first you don't suceed, blame your parents."

(well, duh. my whole generation has made a career out of it.)

currently watching Anamaniacs on DVD. love that show.
"Uh, say Brain, what d'you wanna do tonight?"
"Same thing we do every night, Pinky...try to take over the world."

Get in line, Pinky...the Government is in front of the line.

peace out. and keep your eyes on the road.

labled by the internet.

Hmmm....tattoos. Interesting.
(you reading, baby?)
(sarcastic comments courtesy of you-know-who)


Your Scientific In-tele-gence Profile:Because you are a quick-witted individual (huh?)
and like to keep things moving along, you have an easier time keeping up with faster-paced television shows than most. You love rapid-fire dialogue because it fits in perfectly with your outgoing nature and witty communication style (so you're saying i'm hyper, right?).
You’re also a multi-tasker, so chances are you don’t have just one favorite show!We think you’d like: The First 48 and Inked

Your Tele-visionary Emotional Profile:You’re still a child at heart (only at heart? i've been called immature before, bruddah) and have a knack for turning any dull situation into a fun time for all. (Sure. just add beer)
You thrive on group discussions—and thanks to your eloquence and creativity, they thrive on you too! (OMG. i'm hosting parasites.)

Try this: Host an Inked party. “Ink” your guests the moment they walk in the door by stamping them with a rubber stamp and ink pad. Gather a wide variety of temporary tattoos and tape them to the wall of your “parlor” (or have guests bring their own designs to display!). Put 2 empty jars on a table.
Have each guest write their name on a slip of paper and drop them into the first jar. Then put an equivalent number of temporary tattoos in the second jar. Take turns drawing names from the first jar.
The guest whose name comes up has to reach into a second jar and blindly pick out a tattoo that they then have to wear—regardless of the design! Encourage those who have real tattoos to “reveal” how they got it and what it means to them.
Take photos and compile them into a tattoo gallery scrapbook. (oh darn. A&E wants me to scrap)

silly mohilly.

such a goof.

but pretty dang cute.

did i mention i'm crazy about him?

honestly. such a goof.

i didn't do it.

i didn't do this. It just happened. i'm not talented enough to make this appear in such preciseness.

If you can call it precise.

But it's a sign. i believe it.

It either means all will be well, smile darn ya smile or it means my beef does NOT have Mad Cow disease.
Eehhh. Some things are better left a mystery.

bleah.

i feel like ca-ca.

had a headcold most of the weekend, sore throat. feeling puny. exhausted.

but...i gotta go to work. today is the Boss's surprise party.

i dreamed about it. that i forgot half the stuff, and what i did have was in the back of my old car, a little Geo Storm. i had no one to help me carry it. no one to help me go back to my house.

talk about obsessive. i need to relax. and dump the sore throat.

aloha.

And on TV tonight...

Think of me as your TV e-Guide.

On second thought, don't.

'Cuz i am SO behind on things at times, it makes me ill.

First off, i make no secret of the fact that i cannot stand most reality TV. American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, Big Brother...bleah. Just cannot stand the train wreck that to me is most reality TV.

Except...

Driving Force. Dog the Bounty Hunter. Feasting on Asphalt (but it's no secret i'm in love with Alton Brown. Hubbs knows. He doesn't care. He thinks he'll eat better because of it.)

And now...add one more show to my Guilty Pleasures list: Desperate Housewives.

I know....where have i been?

Just never took the time to watch the bloody thing. But tonight, whilst having quality time with my remote, i happened to find the pilot on Lifetime.

Where have i been.

OK - when Bree, a perfect suburban housewife, finds out her husband wants a divorce (at a restaurant for heaven's sake), she is so thrown that she goes to the salad bar to make him a salad, gets distracted by someone talking to her, and adds onions to his salad.

He's allergic to onions.

So next scene, he's in the hospital, she's next to him. He says "I can't believe you tried to kill me."

She says, dryly - "Yes, well, I feel badly about that."

OMG. Who knew?

I may just have to watch this again.

Oranges to Another Day...

If i had a choice between gainful employment or gainful unemployment, i of course, will take Employment for $5000, Alex.

But after this week....well...suddenly, selling oranges at a freeway offramp doesn't seem like such a horrible idea.

Everyone has bad days..bad weeks even. Welcome to reality, right? And i'm not naive enough to think that i'm the only one this happens to.

It just feels that way sometimes.

The one wonderful thing about a bad day, is that it ends. Every day you get a new chance to start over.

It just takes longer to get that bitter taste out of your mouth.

At work, we've been planning a surprise birthday party for the Queen Boss. Collecting money from the masses. Selecting sandwich platters from Albertson's. Getting chocolate for the chocolate fountain (yay!). Going to Costco for chips. Lots of chips.

The Queen Boss' secretary took over from me collecting the money. Yesterday, she decided that she had too much money in proportion to people marked paid. So, of course i must have done something wrong in my record keeping.

Possibly. I ain't perfect. But cash is one of those things where i try to be beyond accountable. And especially when i kept a separate list, sorted by supervisors of who's paid.

Earlier in the week, my supervisor told me that my emails weren't "professional" enough. What she's looking for is, in my opinion, not my style. She wants a very cut & dried prose. Let's face it, cut & dried aren't two words you'd use to describe me.

But on the other hand, i also don't send emails like this:
"Yo dawg. Get your freak on & be done with the freakin' copysheet in your hou-uze. Fer shizzle."
There's other things that went on. But not only do i want to rehash it, i don't want to bring you down. I need all the readers i can get.

It's all OK. So i got my feelers hurt. My ego bruised. I'm moving on. Because again, every day, you get another chance to start over. To do things different. To move on & be better.

And, since Scarlett O'Hara is one of my literary heroes, i quote her mantra: Tomorrow is another day. She moved on. She survived the Civil War & Reconstruction for the love of Pete.

I believe i can survive the smack downs going on in my life.

Peace out. It's another day.

guest Random Thoughts....

before you freak, it's OK. I know the author. Just a little something she's working on & I said I'd blog it to see if she gets any comments...Like the blizzard of comments I get. But hey, this isn't about me...It's about her. Take it away, Dee.

"Do you think George Clooney sings his own stuff?"

I sigh inaudibly and shoot a glance at my sister, staring out the window of my car. We're driving down to San Diego, then on to Mexico for some really good Mexican food.
She's weird. Lord only know what'll come out of her mouth sometimes.

"I mean, do you think he's one of the Soggy Bottom Boys?"

At this point, I've decided she's lost it. Maybe I would be better off having her committed at an asylum before this trip gets even weirder.

"What are you talking about, Christine?"

Christine turns to me with all the attitude of a teenage girl...Which wouldn't be so bad except that she's 31 AND my older sister.
"Soggy Bottom Boys? 'O Brother, Where Art Thou?' George Clooney? Is any of this familiar, or are you too high brow for such common movies?"

Sarcasm, thy name is Sister.

"Come on," I yell, trying to keep my eyes on the thundering traffic on the freeway. "Cut me some slack here! Take a Midol, or something - just get an attitude adjustment, willya?"

We drove on in silence for a few more miles, when Christine piped up again.

"If he didn't sing it live, do you think it was lip-synched?"

I realize now how our mother must have felt. I've never understood her. I never will.
It's going to be a long trip and I wonder if I can make it to the rest stop without killing her.

from the work in progress My Life - My Gawd. Dee Menchia.