Half Nekkid Thursday and AOL

In the spirit of half nekkid Thursday, since I don't participate yet (due to a lack of a working digital camera) this picture is my lame contribution. And it's late due to Blogger maintenance as well.

Let's get to a good old rant though, while we're here. I apologize in advance for those of you who use AOL, and like it. I did a "free trial" with them last Spring, for two months. And according to their rules, I terminated my free period before the end of the two months. Almost 6 months later, I got a bill today asking for $160. I called, and the only positive thing I can say is I didn't have to wait, they must have finally hired more people to handle complaints, since they seem to have so many. The lady, let's call her "Stupid Piece of Human excrement" to make it easy, asked how she could help me.

Me: I had two months of a free trial, canceled it, and I now have a $160 bill for service I did not use.

Stupid Piece of Human excrement: I have no record of you canceling your trial period.
Obviously, you twit, or I wouldn't be holding this bill.

Me: Apparently, or I wouldn't have been billed. However, I did call and cancel.

Stupid Piece of Human excrement: I show no record of this, sir. Do you have your cancellation order number?

Me: No, I don't even think they gave me such a number, and I didn't think it was a difficult task for you to turn off my free trial.

Stupid Piece of Human excrement: Without a record or number, you owe $160.

Me: You can see by the account activity that I did not use it past my free trial date, therefore I am not paying it.

Stupid Piece of Human excrement: My Supervisor who must have magically appeared nearby and mystically known all details of the conversation said I could reduce it to $90, and if you pay at least $50 of it today, you can avoid going to collections.

Collections? Oh Reallllllyyyyy......

Me: I am not paying anything, unless you can show me I used the account past my free trial, which I did not. Let me talk to your Supervisor.

Stupid Piece of Human excrement: He is no longer available, sir. I guess he magically teleported away, as quickly as he had appeared.

Me: Who can I talk to about this then? It's obviously not her, and my patience with her is quickly running out.

Stupid Piece of Human excrement: I can give you the Dispute Department as soon as you decide if you are paying $50, the minimum, $90, or the full amount.

Me: I am not paying any amount, I am disputing the entire freaking bill,

Stupid Piece of Human excrement: The address is PO Box something something. And how much did you want to pay today?

Me: Nothing! And you are seriously telling me that a technology based company doesn't have an email address or website for disputes? Only a PO box? I find that hard to believe. I do find that hard to believe.

Stupid Piece of Human excrement: Yes sir, your dispute must be in writing. Which amount will you be disputing in your letter?

Totally exasperated by now. Me: All of it!

Stupid Piece of Human excrement: I'm not sure I understand sir, so what amount exactly are you wanting to pay right now?

Silence. End Call.

Never again. Ever.

Sometimes little things amuse me....

And no, that wasn't a reference to Elijah's height, or a reference to either's, uh, you know... I admit it, I like Lost, the television show. A discussion came up the other night, while discussing Lost, about Elijah and Dominic. Apparently, if you check the link below, or do a google search for them, there is a lot of discussion pertaining to their sexuality. The discussion revolved around celebrities being role models, which I have an issue with to begin with, but in this case, someone was claiming that since it is hard for a young, male celebrity to be gay and successful, they stay in the closet, have pretend girlfriends, etc. It would be nice if someone really famous and young would come out. No, Danny Pintauro from "Who's the Boss" doesn't count. With the multitude of fans that both Elijah and Dom have, they could really cause some major acceptance. This is all assuming they were gay, which they aren't, or might not be, you know what I mean.

Check this cute site out for pictures that the author claims are evidence that Elijah is gay. They're cute, and "work safe", heh heh. I was amazed at how many people have built entire websites about this subject. It makes me feel better to know there are people out there with more spare time on their hands than myself.

Disclaimer I do not know, or presume to guess, either Elijah's or Dom's sexual preferences. I do not mean to offend, and if Elijah or Dom happen upon this post: love your work, send me an email sometime, and there's no need for a restraining order.

I couldn't find a better adjective than "whopping?"

I got tagged with posting the 5th sentence of my 23rd post.

Argh. I didn't think this qualified as a sentence, so the following was there:

But, to make it all better they offered a whopping $50 coupon.

That sounds way more interesting on it's own, than my original post. I don't even know if people were even reading my blog back then, I may not have had comments activated, and the sitemeter was weeks away from being installed.

I was complaining about our flight and lost luggage. but instead I think I will suggest that JJ uses that line in a future Flash Fiction Friday. I think some interesting stories could ensue....

Tag if you want to play, I have already stated that I like to be "it", so why I would tag anyone else to be "it?"
I'm it!

For those of you following my computer problems, I am using the MAC right now, so that G's, H's, and apostrophes can be used. A cup of water, and the only detectable damage is the loss of those three keys. Which turn out to be pretty important when you go to type.

Te letters between f and j

certain keys on D keyboard arent workin, difficult to post dis way.

arrrrrrrr.

rebootin, rebootin, please worc...

Add one part H2O, one part Laptop.

Keep your fingers crossed for me. Amongst the numerous things currently going wrong in my life, I spilled water all over my laptop, which is already experiencing technical difficulties.

I turned it off, dried it well, and it came on by itself, displaying some very disturbing images on the display. I turned it back off, and it came back on, by itself, this time with a blank screen.

I turned it off, once again, and later tried turning it on, it didn't seem to be working.

One more time, and it appears to be working, at least we well as before. (Power issues) I might have to go back to my roomie's MAC, which we all know how we feel about that.

Why I usually won't take an online quiz.

You Are A: Frog!

Independent yet still part of a large community, frogs are unique creatures known for their distinctive sound and ability to hop. As a frog, you spend your days sitting on lily pads or climbing trees, searching for delicious insects to eat. While there are some frogs that aren't exactly cute, you are certainly not one of those!

You were almost a: Duck or a Turtle
You are least like a: Pony or a PuppyCute Animal Test!

I was almost a duck, and least like a puppy. And I'm a freaking frog? This is why I don't usually take these online quizzes.

Why I loathe peaches....

I wrote an autobiographical piece for Flash Fiction Friday. (I know I know, autobiography is not fiction, and I don't always play by the rules.) It is not anywhere near the quality of Spinning Girl's story, but it inspired mine.

I put it over here so if you didn't want to commit to a long post, you can just skip on down. It doesn't explain my extreme picky eating, but it does explain my extreme dislike of peaches.

Chaka Kahn's gonna rock ya.

I know, I know, I said I wasn't posting more today, but in the previous Land of the Lost post, a minor discussion ensued about a monkey from the show. Well, like the Bart picture says, I will google before asking dumb questions I can look up myself. (Ok, I won't always do that, but this time I did.)

So anyhow, when a piece of trivia gets stuck in my head, it really bothers me. I thought about it, and finally just googled it. Chaka. Chaka was the monkey guy that was the kid's friend from the land of the lost. For some reason, even though my friends would talk about wanting a "Chaka" like creature as a friend, I only found him to be annoying. A big monster would be coming through the trees, the family would spot it, and then Chaka would say something in his language, "Chaka Kahn. Chaka Kahn. Chaka Kahn gonna rock you." or something like that. And the family would all praise Chaka like he had saved their lives from the monster they had already seen.

I have a lot of Chaka like people in my life. I trip on something, and someone says, "Watch out for that." Or I break something, and someone points out "You have to be careful with those". I am going to just start saying, "Thanks Chaka. Good Chaka." when they say these stupid things. And I am not going to explain why. It will make me feel better to make them wonder.

In future comments, when someone points out the obvious, I will be posting back, "Thank you Chaka. Good Chaka." You'll know what I mean, even if they don't.

Taking it easy....

Yesterday, I realized that on Wednesday, I maybe over did it with 4 posts in one day. Granted, none of them were earth shattering, none of them drastically (or undrastically) changed anyone's life, and they didn't cure anyone's crabs. (I guess they could have provided some distraction to someone who was reading them while recovering from crabs, but I digress...)

I did have a maniacal burst of energy on Wednesday, and had a lack of outlets to apply the energy to, so it all came here. So yesterday, I took it easy, read and commented on blogs I like and didn't post anything.

Now, today, I am feeling guilty. But I am not going to throw just anything out there. I have some thoughts running around, that I am going to work on later, but for now, I am going to continue to read and comment elsewhere.

Two interesting notes
1. Another person found my sight looking for pig porn, but their search was FOUR pigs XXX. Is pig porn big enough now that not just sexy pics of pigs are enough, but entire pig orgies are out there? I don't want to know, really.
2. Someone from Limerick, Ireland visited my site. I didn't even know there was a place actually called Limerick. (Geography was never a strong point of mine.) Is this the town that Limericks started, or was it named afterwards? Welcome, visitor from Limerick, and I won't post a limerick trying to be cute, I am sure you get that all the time.

Short Ephiphany #3: I am madly in love with Spinning Girl

I've never been in love with someone whose real name I didn't know. (Ok, once, but I did know their stripper name, and that counts, right?) Anyway, assuming you didn't get to my blog from hers already, check her out. It will be a long distance love affair, so no restraining order is needed, SG. Love you, and the scary pics of the doll and the sleestaks will hopefully replace these. I do apologize for those.

Epihany #2: I figured out the secrets of Lost

Tonight was the season premiere of Lost. I no longer need to watch it though, as I figured out the two main points to the whole series that will end it and wrap it up nicely.

First, to help them figure out how to get off that darn island, Marshall, Will, and Holly will show up. They are from the "Land of the Lost", and are thoroughly knowledgeable on all things lost. (But help me out people, did they ever actually get out of the land of the lost? Or did the series end first? Or is this before most of your times?

Secondly, the things in the woods that are stalking the Lost people, are actually Sleestacks. In retrospect, if you watched the show now, the sleestaks were never very threatening, but in tradition of modern television, they will now be cannibals and spit acid, which makes for great special effects. (But if you watched this show as a child, the sleestaks were scary in their own special way.)

So there you have it, no need to watch Lost anymore, and time to see if you can order old Land of the Lost episodes from Amazon. Not really, but at least rent "Trilogy of Terror", that one if worth watching again, if only for the one with the doll.

Ephiphany #1: Karen Black kept me from wearing sandals

Bear with me here, it will all make sense in the end. I didn't wear sandals, or go barefoot, for most of my life, until this year. I was asked why I, and it took my a while, but it ends up, it is all Karen Black's fault. Well, okay, Karen Black indirectly, the babysitter who allowed me to watch "Trilogy of Terror" when I was three or four was really more at fault. I don't really remember the other two tales of terror, but the one with the little doll was horrifying. Once it came to life, it chased after Karen Black, and since it was small, it poked it's little spear at her ankles, trying to make her fall to the ground so it could kill her. When I was five, my grandmother had a bobble head doll that resembled the doll from the movie, and I screamed when the air conditioner went on and made the head seem to bobble on its own. So there you have it, the babysitter with bad judgement and Karen Black kept me from wearing sandals or going barefoot until this year.

Or the bee that stung me on the bottom of my foot when I was five, but that doesn't make a good story now, does it?

Reports are in: Blah

Justin's birthday went well, had a good time, and no big hangovers. Thanks everyone for wishing him a great birthday.

The angry joggers post is still accepting comments. Please scroll down and enter some, as now I am home most mornings, and enjoy using all of the comments. The plus side is that college started back up, (we are near a local college) so there are some nice looking joggers now, as well. But the nice looking ones can be angry, too, and still deserve our scathing wit.

I wrote a long, long, post yesterday, and have so far saved it as a draft. I didn't want to post it, it is rather depressing, on Justin's birthday, and may not post it at all. We'll see.

I have been following everyone else's blogs religiously (no, that doesn't mean I only read them on Sundays). The article from the San Francisco paper about Spinning Girl being in the human zoo was great. I am too lazy to do a link, so go over to the side bar and click away.

I have had the unfortunate opportunity to view a few episodes of "My Super Sweet 16" on MTV. I have never watched a show, honestly, where I have wanted to smack the crap out of someone so much. Which episode, you ask? All of them that I've seen. All of them go on and on about how much they "deserve" their new BMW, their ten thousand dollar dress, their half a million dollar party, etc. "It's kind of expensive, but I really deserve it."

No beeotch, you deserve a smack. Two, actually. I mean, even Omorosa was "working" on her reality show. A lot of people annoyme, (obviously), but people who think they deserve things for no reason really, really, tick me off.

Happy Birthday to Justin

Today is Justin's birthday. I can't get him all of the things he wants, or deserves, but I wish him the best, and love him with all of my heart. And he is recovering from surgery quite nicely, thanks to everyone who wished him well and asked about him.

Happy Birthday Justin!!!!

Google me all night long, baby.

How do people find this book if they can't use google? I imagine if you can't even use google, you probably need some help to get to the bookstore, find the book, and hell, figure out how to pay. Recently though, some of us have been sharing google searches that led people to our sites, so I thought I would share a few new ones. trust me, it's better than the serious crap I've been typing and saving as drafts....

A while back, I mentioned the word verifier word was pigsxxx. Librarian made a comment that someone searching for pig porn was bound to find my site, and sure enough, a recent search for pig porn listed my site as #2. Number one is too disgusting to even type, but I feel honored to be in their company, and feel sorry for the person who read through my site (23 minutes) diligently looking for the pig porn reference.(So far, they haven't returned.)

My $150 Beamer post brought in a few people, nothing weird there, but once again, I am sure some disappointment was present.

Someone with some issues about their gender found the post clarifying my gender, but did not receive any assistance finding their own. Sad. They haven't returned either, but they've got more important things to deal with anyway.

Here is the most perplexing search ever received on my site. Someone found this when searching for Howie Mandell. Why oh why would anyone be searching for Howie Mandell? I have spent numerous minutes trying to figure this one out, and I just can't do it. Somethings are probably better left unexplained.

It's all about the "O"

First off, thanks to all for the suggestions for me to use while harassing the angry joggers. If you haven't read through them, or suggested your own, please do. Between harassing angry joggers, and reflecting on life, I took a small break and we watched an old rerun of MadTV, and they featured the hot and upcoming band, OTown! Do you remember them? They had a reality show (making the band) on MTV for a while, were supposed to be the new backstreet boys (like we all needed new backstreet boys), blah blah blah. Here is a small sample of their lyrics to jog your memory, from their song "Liquid Dreams", which is pretty close to Wet Dreams, if you ask me.

I dream about a girl who's a mix of Destiny's Child,
Just a little touch of Madonna's wild style,
With Janet Jackson's smile, throw in a body like Jennifer
You've got the star of my liquid dreams

First off, not the best lyrics in the world, and I really doubt that a few of them have ever had a "Liquid dream" that involved a woman, but let's move on.

In the tradition of "Where are they now?", I did some research, as I am sure everyone is just dying to know. It's amazing what you can find on the internet, even without paying the $35 background check fee. And note to my probation officer, this is not stalking, I don't do that anymore. And even if I did, O Town was never on my list of people, organizations, or entities that I am not allowed to stalk any longer.
Ashley, the blonde one, is now a "personal assistant" to an elderly, life long bachelor, in Key West. Most of his daily duties involve cleaning the pool in his speedos, serving meals in his speedos, taking phone calls in his speedos, you get the idea. Ashley is rumored to be quite happy, and only hopes that when his employer dies, the judges don't screw him over like they did poor Anna Nicole.

Dan, to the left of the blonde one, was recently promoted to head fry cook at a local pub and is working on losing some of the 100 pounds he put on after the band stopped touring. He still sings at local karaoke events, and is occasionally asked for his autograph when signing checks and paying bills.

Jacob, top right, with unexplained dreadlocks, recovered nicely from his family intervention. His hair is now back to normal and takes less time to get ready in the mornings on his way to Piggly Wiggly to bag groceries.

Erik, with the shaved head, whose last name is Estrada (no relation), tried briefly to do celebrity impersonations of, you guessed it, Erik Estrada. His lack of acting skill enhanced his impersonation, and Erik has now saved up enough money to attend night time refridgeration school.

Trevor, the other one, was hard to find. The last people to admit to seeing him said that he was tracking down Justin Guarini (from American Idol fame) so they could pitch Trevor's screenplay based on the life of the Milli Vanilli guys. Trevor and Justin would play the star roles of course.

I wanted more information, so I emailed VH1, as they have that show "Bands Reunited", and asked if they could work on an OTown reunion. The rep from VH1 emailed me back and asked, "Who?"

Animal Planet stories that didn't make it.

This beautiful white giraffe was recently spotted and animal experts are extremely excited. News has been downplayed, however, as the news originally reported that the white giraffe was spotted "finding" leaves, while nearby black giraffes were reported to be "stealing and looting" the same leaves.

Also, Old Yeller dog food was going to be featured on Animal Planet, but the company's commercials tagline, "Feed your dog one last good meal before you put him down." was found to be lacking in sensitivity.

Angry Joggers in the morning.

I fix some coffee, go to the front porch, light up a cigarette, and start enjoying the morning. Pleasant weather, good coffee, inhale and exhale of a good smoke. Then, the angry joggers start going by. These aren't the joggers who truly enjoy jogging, either for their health, or for rush of endorphins. These are the joggers who truly resent the fact they are jogging. And apparently, they really resent me, for I get angry look after angry look, as I sit on my butt, drinking coffee full of sugar and milk, smoking an unhealthy cigarette, and watching them go by. Up until now, I usually just watch them go by, amused they are so angry. This morning though, I got a little peeved, and moved to the edge of the porch, and starting making sounds when they gave me a look. Sounds like "MMMmmm.... good coffee.", or "Nothing like the first smoke of the morning" as I exhale in their general direction. (I'm too far to actually get the smoke to them, it's mainly for effect.)

I am starting a list, and feel free to contribute. I will try all entries at least once, with the exception of entries that are mainly profanity, (I will use profanity, but it needs to be creative profanity), and I won't use ones that are likely to have the joggers come back later in a pack to kick my ass. (Are groups of joggers a "pack?", or a herd, I have no idea.)

I tried a few out this morning.
"New studies show that jogging actually increases your cholesterol levels!" (this comment got a slightly turned head but no verbal reaction.)
"There are people in the world who can't even afford to jog!" (the lady actually laughed briefly before putting her angry face back on.)
Since I hadn't had much coffee yet, I couldn't come up with anymore at the time, but I am now preparing a list. I will only use the comments on the angry joggers, not the nice ones who smile or say good morning, so feel free to give me some comments to use. And if you are a jogger yourself, please do it for the love of jogging, and don't be mad at those of us who exervice our right to not jog.

My dog talks to me, sort of.

I was accused of being insane earlier. Yes, this has happened before, for various reasons, and if it makes anyone feel better, I've never been accused of being insane by a professional. However, someone overheard me supplying my dog with a voice. (No, I am not drunk, nor was I drunk when this happened.) When I talk to my dog, for example, "Want to go outside?", I will sometimes reply to myself, "Let's go find a good tree, Bobby, and hurry up about it." The reply is from my dog to me, and I am pretty confident I voice my dog's opinions pretty accurately. However, this time, someone overheard me, and the conversation was a few sentences longer than my example about the tree, and the person, who also owns a dog, said I was insane. Not for talking to my dog, which they found perfectly acceptable, but for replying for him.

So now, to prove my point, or to convince me to seek professional help, I am asking you all, do you ever do this? My dog says this is perfectly acceptable, and sees nothing wrong with it. In fact, he was a little pissed that my sanity was questioned, and wanted me to tell this person to do something along the lines of shoving something up their butt, but I did restrain myself from articulating that particular thought.

So, my dog and I anxiously await your thoughts on the matter. I am going to read some blogs while I wait for your comments, and my dog will be making prank calls to the neighbors.

I had trouble getting to Solla Sollew

"Then new troubles came.
From above!
And below!
A Skritz at my neck!
Amd a Skrink at my toe!
And now I was really in trouble, you know.
The rocks! And the Quail!
And the Skritz! And the Skrink!
I had so many troubles, I just couldn't think!

That is a very accurate description of my life right now, which I am sure I will be expanding on in the upcoming days and weeks. But stay with me, dear readers. This is a bourbon enhanced post, but it is totally relevant and also, I would like to think, insightful.

If you've never read "I had trouble in getting to Solla Sollew", by Dr. Seuss, I highly suggest going and doing so. And if it is hidden away in your children's bookcase, dig it out, and read it to yourself. It is written in his traditional style, mainly for children, but this book has a deeper message to it. (Okay, maybe not totally deep, but deep.)

There are troubles all around, for example, (and this will test to see how far people read), having your job eliminated, and sometimes when those troubles come along, you want to go somewhere else, in the hope that things will be better if you can just be somewhere different. The urge can be small, and it can be overwhelming. I don't want to ruin the ending for you, but it fits so nicely with my post here:

I know I'll have troubles.
But I've brought a big bat.
I'm all ready, you see.
Now my troubles are going
To have troubles with me!

So I got the message, loud and clear. I just need to find my big bat, and I'll be ready to go. I'm not sure what it is yet, but I'll find it, and then my troubles will have some big troubles with me.

I could never be a nurse. Ever.

I could never be a nurse. You all probably already knew that, if you've read even half of my stuff here, but really, watching the crap nurses have to put up with, uh uh, no way. Justin came through fine, the surgery was scheduled for 2 hours, and lasted over 3 1/2 (which drove me insane, since I didn't receive an update until they were done and he was in recovery.) But he's in a lot of pain today, making him grumpy, and for the record, he is not the most easy going patient. Nor am I the most easy going care giver, but like I said, we all knew that. Despite all of that, over all we are doing well. Thank you everyone for the kind wishes for both of us.

A few updates, I am working on the nurse picture, thanks for asking.

I will be writing about the "shindig" last weekend. Soon.

And I am attempting to get the laptop issue taken care of quickly, as my hatred for the mac grows daily. I hate even walking by it, as it seems to taunt me with it's little flickering monitor light. I think it is taunting me in morse code, but luckily I don't know morse code, except SOS, which we learned in scouts. And has that ever come in handy throughout my life.

And a few brief pieces of advice:
*Don't ask the night security guards where anything is located in a hospital.
*Don't attempt to use an emergency exit only door, even when your pissed that you've been given faulty directions.
*The painkiller pump button can be pushed by other people, it doesn't have to be the patient. (Which comes in handy when the patient is being grouchy.)
*Avoiding potholes in the street to give the patient a pleasant ride home will actually cause more of a bumpy ride than if you hadn't even tried.

Macs, surgeries, and power cords. Oh my.

The power cord on my laptop has stopped working. It won't stay plugged in long enough to charge the battery, and won't stay in long enough to even use the thing for more than 10 minutes. Of course I didn't know you couldn't buy dell stuff at the store, you have to order it online. So no laptop for a few days, until the cord arrives. My laptop, while relatively new, has quickly become an obsession with me, I have everything saved on it, and the only other computer in the house is my roomie's MAC.

All you MAC lovers out there, bear with me, but the MAC won't even load all of the blogger toolbars, it won't load my favorite blogs on my own freaking blog site, and while very nice, is in general a piece of crap.

Justin's two shoulder surgeries are at 6am tomorrow morning. So I don't know how much I will be posting in the next couple of days. He is supposed to be released, at the latest, at 430am Tuesday morning. (This will avoid being charged an overnight stay.) He could be released Monday evening, but it's doubtful. I have most of this week off from work, except for three or four times where I will have to go in, and leave Justin with a designated person whose job is to keep his stubborn butt in bed and keep him from lifting anything.

I had thought having the week off would provide numerous blogging opportunities, but it all depends on how much Justin needs help and how much I have to yell at him.

I know I promised an update on the big shindig (I love that word) that Justin's family had. They introduced their children and the children's families. They called prior and asked how we should be introduced. They brought all of their kids up, and when it was our turn, I was introduced as Justin's partner. I think that is really great of them. This was not the most progressive and hip crowd, and I am sure some people didn't approve, but I don't care. His family is great.

Anyway, I will blog when I can. And I will still be reading, and commenting whenever circumstances allow.

Arnie's Raw Deal

I have a lot of friends that I hardly ever get to see, but I try to have lunch, dinner, or
drinks with my "out of touch" friends at least once or twice a year. So today, I went to happy hour with a couple of old friends, Jamie Lee and Grace.

Although they live nowhere near, they fly in, we have tons of drinks, they fill me in on neighborhood gossip and goings on with their Local PTA's, we swap recipes, and we just generally "girl talk." (Except Grace, she doesn't really "girl talk", I am pretty sure she has more testosterone than me.) We got on the topic of politics, after talking about some of their old friends that, they have in common, and they both shared recent messages they had both sent to Governor Arnold. (We all giggle when we say "Governor Arnold".) I asked, and they said I could reprint their messages here. (I added the links but didn't edit the content.) It was the picture to the right that sparked the conversation. We saw it after discussing Patsy's good post from this morning. Love you, Patsy.

This one is from Jamie Lee.

Arnold,

It's Jamie. I know we haven't talked in a while, but I thought I would drop you a note. I saw your picture the other day, and you're not looking too well. I mean, I know you're getting older, like we all are, but with all that money, get some work done. You're the fitness guy. The guy who could bench press me and two of my body guards at once! (And wow, what the four of us would do after that was just wild.) Sorry, I got off track. Anyway, I noticed you were looking a little stressed. Stress caused by your career, I'm sure. You were certainly never stressed making movies. "True Lies" was a contrived piece of crap, as we both know, but we had fun making it. We had such big dreams back then.
But now, what's happened to you now? You've posed naked. You've posed naked in a gay magazine. You were naked in movies, and you were the fucking terminator! You could be using your authority as Governor to do so much. And now you're going to veto the gay marriage bill? How many gay friends do you have, from your weight lifting days, your movie career, and just from living in California! And you don't even say it yourself, your press secretary announced it. What a pussy thing to do. I know you're planning on announcing your intent to run for governor again, and just think how many people would vote for you if you stood up for equal rights, that all people deserve? And there's still a ton of closeted gays you don't even know about that would vote for you! Even Ryan Seacrest would vote for you if you did the right thing. (Not that he's closeted, but you get the point.)

But no, apparently you are now just an out of shape, old, politician who plays it safe. Try to remember the good old days, and do the right thing.

Jamie Lee
p.s. let me know if you see any good scripts, my career's been a little slow lately. My latest and biggest appearance in years is on some blog with vomit in the title.

This next one is from Grace. She isn't quite as eloquent, but good communication basically boils down to if your point gets across. I think Grace does that here.

Arnold, quit being a freaking douche. Don't veto the bill and be a man. Grace.

Anyway, after a few margaritas, they both admitted their messages probably won't do any good, but they did let me ride in the limo and drink from the limo's bar. So, some times, when things aren't going your way and things look all depressing, at least a limo with a bar is right around the corner. And Grace gives a mean hummer.

Rules so people don't have to think.

A while back, which is my vague term for "I can't remember exactly when", Justin and I found an apartment we really liked and wanted. Everything was going fine, and then we asked about the pet deposit, as we already knew they
accepted pets.

"what type of dog is it?" the apartment manager, henceforth referred to as "brain dead", asked.
"Miniature Pinscher." we replied, adding "He's already full grown, and weighs about 8 1/2 pounds." We always add that,
so people know it's a small dog, which some apartments prefer.
"Oooohhhh...." Brain Dead said, shaking her head. "We don't allow that breed."
Astonished, we asked why.
Brain Dead said, "we have a list of breeds we don't allow, since they can be vicious, and doberman pinschers are on the list. I'm very sorry, would you consider getting rid of your dog?"
Obviously, Brain Dead was not a pet owner or she wouldn't have asked that. We really wanted the apartment, otherwise this was the point I would have gone off on Brain Dead.
"He's not a doberman pinscher, he's a miniature pinscher, which is actually a terrier breed." we explained patiently. "You allow terriers don't you?" We ignored her request to get rid of our dog.
"Oh yes!" Brain Dead said.
"So we're fine."
"No, his breed name has pinscher in the title, so we wouldn't allow it."
"He's a terrier, they are bred to look like dobermans, but they aren't even related."
"But he has pinscher in his title."
"But he isn't one."
This went back and forth for a few minutes, with Justin's temper starting to make his voice get harsher. Ever the facilitator, I interjected, "If my name was Mr. Black, would that make me black? Because I have black in my name?"
"Obviously not, sir." Brain Dead said, increasing my hope that I could actually show her the error of her ways.
"So, our dog's name is like that, he's called a miniature pinscher, but he is actually a terrier. I can bring a note from the vet if you need it for your manager."
Ooops. I apparently insulted Brain Dead at this point, insinuating she needed her manager's authority to make this decision.
"The vet would state that his breed is minitature pinscher, though, right?" Brain Dead said. Now, the way she said it made her sound quite intelligent and rational, but trust me, she wasn't.
I had to agree, that yes, the vet would state his name was miniature pinscher, but his breed was terrier.
"And we don't allow dogs with pinscher in their title to move in." Brain Dead said, concluding her argument, and adding a smile that I would have liked to physically remove from her face.

I continue to explain that I understood their policy, but that rules are guidelines, and obviously someone had not thought this one through, and that's why people are in place to interpet those rules when odd circumstances come along, like this one. It didn't help.

Now when someone like that asks, we just say he is a terrier. When they comment on how much he looks like a doberman, we reply, "yes, amazing what breeders can do these days with terriers."

I was going to link to min-pin mama's blog, but I am at work and can't find it. I Will edit at home.
Also, the minpin in the pic is cute, and looks similar to our dog, but it just doesn't feel right having another dog's picture on my blog. It's like when I come home after playing with someone else's dog and my dog can smell it on me. I feel like I've been caught cheating.

I will replace the picture as soon as I get home, and hopefully before my dog notices.

My $150 Beamer

So here I am posing next to our 1990 BMW 750 iL, which we have had for a few years, but is still well worth over $8000. With all the "pimped out" extras that we have put in there let's talk upwards of $11,000. Not dwelling on that or anything......Anyway, as we all know good people fall on hard times. We have all heard of these"Title Loan" places that you go to, with a clean title, you get a loan,which puts a Lean on your title, and you get some $$. What you don't know is, if your car is a 1990 or older, the MAX amount that they will loan you is $150.00. I took them this car and they told me that the maximum loan on my car would be One Hundred & Fifty Dollars. HEH. I looked at that bitch, snatched my title up, and went the hell off. Apparently anything older than 1991 is not in their systems, in that case that is all that they can give you. I called the HQ of the business and spoke to someone kinda high up on the chain. He just verified what the nice young bitch had told me so condescendingly. He said, just for shit's and giggles, what kind of car do you have, sir. I told him, and all he could say is that "it just isn't fair". (He was very insightful.) So when they say that you can borrow up to half of your car's value, what they really mean is as follows: They look up the Black Book value for your car. This is basically between Trade-in, and Private Party. They Divide that number by 2 and That is the amount that they will lend you. Black Book value on mine is $5500. Don't let the ads deceive you, RESTRICTIONS DO APPLY! Ok now I know someone must be asking, if he has this car, why would he need a loan. Well this was a present that I got from my Grandfather's Will. I loved that man, and in turn He Loved Me! I see now what he saw in that car. So I am not a Yuppy by choice, just by circumstance!

One more rant, and this is a short one. A local department store is having a huge ONE DAY ONLY sale. When is it? Friday and Saturday.

Saw what?

RuPaul and Ashley Judd. Don't ask me why.

Note to self. Add this RuPaul Doll (seriously) to list of things that people better not buy me, but probably will. Especially with Christmas coming up. Note to Readers: The remainder of this post does not mention Rupaul or the doll, please continue without fear.

There's been a lot of talk about blogs and bloggers lately. Most of it's been good, and I have agreed with so much of it. A little bit of it has been very critical of blogs and the writers, and I just started wondering if the people being critical are just doing it for a reaction? I mean, the majority of their readers are bloggers as well.

But on a lighter note, let's all thank Ashley Judd for deciding not to create and write a blog. This is a quote from her:

"Every morning, I put down all my annoyances on paper so I don't take them out on people later in the day. I would be completely embarrassed if anyone ever read them. It's like, 'My tea is the wrong temperature, and I don't want to get up.'"

Wow. If my tea, or other drink, is the wrong temperature, I didn't even know not getting up was an option. Ok, it's not really an option for me, but I just think some of the quotes that celebrity "news" outlets use are just ridiculous. I mean, Ashley Judd must have said something, sometime, that was a little more relevant or interesting than that.

Right?

Okay, maybe not.

Richmond City Laws and 7-11

I've mentioned before how silly some of the laws are, here in Virginia, and Richmond specifically. Here's a good one they have apparently missed.

We went up to 7-11, and two women had a 13 month old baby at work with them, in a stroller behind the counter. Apparently, while this is against company policy, (We checked), it isn't against the law to have your 13 month old, at a convenient store at 11pm at night, in not the greatest part of town. (Before bringing the baby to the counter to help us, the baby was back by the freezer and cleaning supplies, while momma and friend helped themselves to a slurpee.

It saddens me to no end that you have to obtain a license to drive, fish, and hunt, but any idiot can get knocked up, and be a complete idiot parent.

This post is as bad as, like, whatever.

I was pondering Spinning Girl's post from this morning, and I think for me, I really want to try to write well someday. I do have a specific goal/reason for this, which I may go into detail someday (You know I will eventually), but for now, let's leave it at "I want to be a decent writer."

In the midst of ponderance, I remembered a friend sending me the following list of actual analogies used in high school essays. I always go back and read these when I have writer's block, or when I write something really bad and realize it .

My two favorites are in bold.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty Bag filled with vegetable soup.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and "Jeopardy" comes on at 7 p.m. instead of 7:30.
Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.
Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw.quid55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like "Second Tall Man."
Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming....

Ahem. Just ignore that last post.

I can't even really explain, just, well, let's move on.

I got tagged with the 7 idiosyncracies thing a while back, and I couldn't just post them without an explanation. Trust me, I couldn't.

So, I may be covering them one at a time, with full explanation.

My mother habitually took all of the family pictures. A nice and noble thing to do, except that she did it so she wouldn't actually be in the pictures. She wasn't ugly, she was a beautiful woman. She just "had a thing" about being in the pictures. I guess her obsession could have been called mildly cute when it was happening, but it makes it very disturbing to look back at albums and wonder where your mother was.

Even worse, if she made it into a picture, which happened occasionally despite her protests, the picture that made it into the album would mysteriously be missing her. She would cut her self out of pictures, despite where she was positioned, making for some really odd pictures. (And people that didn't know her, and start looking through the pictures wonder why someone is cut out of the pictures, not always believing this simple explanation.)

Now, I have inherited her obsession. I hate being in pictures. Justin has tried to get me to overcome this, I am not ugly either. But I would much rather take pictures, than be in them.

And the one time I was caught trying to cut myself out of a picture, there was hell to pay.

Now, he hides the scissors from me. So I won't cut the pictures. At least that's why he tells me he hides them.....

Mannequins.

Him: "Hey baby, come here often?"
Her: "Oh, you're so funny. You've used that line every day for the last 3 weeks."
Him: "Do you like my mustache?"
Her: "Oh yes, it's glued on quite nicely."
Him: "You're one fine piece of plastic, let's get it on!"
Her: "Look, I've been nice, because we may be here a while. But I can't take it anymore. You don't have any genitals."
Him: "I know, I'm all talk. I kind of have a complex."
Her: "We can be friends."
Him: "That sounds good. Can I feel you breasts?"
Her: Sigh.


Mannequins creep me out, and I lived with one once. It was a woman, waist up only, but arms. My roommate, who owned it/her, would change the mannequin's shirt daily, and accessorize it as well.

Freaking creepy, especially at 3 in the morning, dark, and drunk. Creepy.
*This brief foray into the frightening frivolity of my mind is brought to you by the letter "P".
P is for percocet, boys and girls.
I promise to not do this often, really. Please visit again.

Why, Gary, Why?!?!?

So, my disappointment in Gary has grown. Maybe it's all my fault, I spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening thinking about Gary. (I'll admit it, Gary popped into a few of my dreams as well.) I spent hours wondering, does Gary like my site, did he buy my blogshares blindly to leave me dissapointed, what is he doing right now, is he happy, what is his instant messenger id?
But now, I am growing resentful. Is he out with some other blogger, sweet talking them and buying their blogshares? I'll admit it, I even went over to his website to see if I was linked, or even if he just mentioned me. I checked my webstats to see if he visited again, and to see where he is from.

*SIGH* I guess Gary could just be busy, despite his web profile implying differently, he could have some semblance of a life. Who knows? Time to move on...

Have a great Labor Day weekend everyone. There was going to be a big party at Gary's house, but since he isn't talking, I guess it's off. Darn it, I said I wasn't going to mention him again. I am off to kill some pain, maybe when the full effect kicks in I will be able to move on and talk about something other than... well, you know.

I can't vomit.

It's too early for anything too relevant, but someone found my site by searching for "I can't vomit" at yahoo. I think that's just grand.

I can always vomit when I need to.

Gary, my new online stalker/friend.

Meet Gary LaPointe. (Hi, Gary, or is it Mr. LaPointe?) I feel like I should be able to call you Gary, as I accidentally stumbled across the fact that you "own" 80% of my "blogshares". (The other 20% are apparently reserved for me, as the owner, which I haven't claimed yet.)

I am assuming Gary has viewed my blog at some point, but I could be wrong, he could have just seen the increasing value of my blog through the blogshares site and bought it there. (I think.)

I am leaving this message for Gary up until he can at least say hello. (Notice I am not posting the link to Gary's site, blog, etc. because I think, if I get the whole blogshare thing, that would make his blog more valuable. I think it would make mine more valuable, too, but oh well.) So please say hi Gary, if you are out there, and if that is indeed your real name.

I briefly glanced at the blogshare website, and got some statistics on me, and a few of you regulars.

My most recent valuation showed my outgoing link value at $113.25.

Four of you are listed on the information page for me, and I might mention that you all have higher values. I am jealous. (I am listing them as their site did.)

Life's Misadventures - $501.69
Eleven Point Five - $278.62
I was just thinking - $249.14
All I Really Have to Do - $123.20

So, some of you regulars who are worth so much, can I borrow some money? Real money, not blogshare money!

And if anyone has an brief, non-technical, explanation, please let me know.

Weekend plans: Drink, blog, repeat.

Short post this morning until my doctor appointment and hopefully some pain relief. A co-worker with family in Georgia reported gas in the five to six dollar range this morning. (My area is still right around three.)
So, for those who enjoy my verbal vomit, you will have plenty to read this weekend, as I am planning on drinking, blogging, and drinking some more. Anything to avoid using gas.

The following from a joke email on how to have fun while at work: Make up nicknames for all your coworkers and refer to them only by these names. "That's a good point, Sparky." "No I'm sorry I'm going to have to disagree with you there, Chachi." made me remember something I was going to post about earlier, "dude" is no longer acceptable at work.

Seriously. Dude is a term that can now land you in the Human Resources office. Why? Some people feel dude is offensive, like you are implying they are a surfer, a stoner, or a male, if you called a girl dude. (Which many people do, dude has become non-gender specific.)

Don't people have more important things to worry about? Like, what about the high gas prices dude?