There are so many things that I could/should be doing right now. But I'm not. I just finished with what sucks most of my will to live at work, and I just don't know that I have the mental capacity to handle anything else. It doesn't help that my iron levels are are now at a negative number and I'm drawing energy simply by the intravenous port of Diet Coke and Laffy Taffy. I'd love to be able to think of something fun to blog about right now, but there simply isn't anything going on. So instead, here's a few things I've thought about blogging about.

1. The only thing that keeps me going sometimes is laughing at other people's names. Now, I could get in trouble for listing them here, but hey, I doubt they read this, and if they do, they know their name is funny. And if they don't, now they will.
Claude Balls
Dick Cram
Terrence Philips
M. Shatley
Hope you enjoyed those as much as I do. There are more, these are just the ones I laugh at the hardest.

2. The guy in charge of streets in San Antonio should be fired, shot, then dragged into an open field and beaten back to life with a wiffle bat. Need proof that he's out of his ever loving mind? Try the access road to northbound IH-35 at Broadway, Nacogdoches, and Harry Wurzbach. I'm sure there are more, I'm SURE of it, but those are the ones that I want to wield a wiffle bat for. Please feel free to point out other reasons why Mr. Sucks at Designing Streets and Construction has the brain of a paramecium.

3. I've decided to make a monthly resolution, give up something every month. For May, I'm giving up fast food. I kind of did a test run in April of this to determine feasibility, and I think it just might work. Depending on the outcome, more monthly resolutions to come. I might even make a list. That being said, tonight's dinner is courtesy of Jack in the Box. Hey, back off, May doesn't start until tomorrow, so tonight, we party!

4. Note to self-MUST remember we are now in that joyous season called the play-offs, in which gifts of free coffee are given after every Spurs win. I'm kicking myself for JUST NOW remembering that. Do you realize that that's FOUR free cups of coffee I could have been ALL OVER? I'm so disappointed in myself.

5. I love the Dallas radio station the Edge while I'm at work, but I HATE their commercials. Especially the one with Mitzy and Buffy or whatever their names are. If I ever meet them or see them on the streets, they will definitely get a face load of wiffle bat.

6. Wiffle bat is a fun grouping of words to say. As is bee poop. And ass hat. However, liver levels is hard, especially 3 times fast, and therefore should be stricken from the English language.


Spurs Fans?

I'm watching the Spurs game tonight against the suns (duh), and it's half time. So I go outside on my balcony to enjoy the fresh air for a minute, and I notice lots of activity in the fitness room. Upon closer inspection, I realize that there is a VERY large woman sitting on a weight bench, very obviously NOT working out, but instead staring up at the TV. There's a very skinny man walking around the room, and on the floor are at least two pallets where two children, perhaps 3 are sleeping. Oh, and then there's the cooler of beer that some other skinny dude just took in. To the fitness room. Where you are supposed to be working out...

They put the ass in class, that's for dang sure.

Too Big

Apparently, The Smoodge is now not only too big for me to rock her to sleep at night, but is also too big for me to hold her while she drinks her milk.

I won't be shocked at all if next week she is screaming about how much she hates me while getting her 3rd piercing.




I just checked my email and this was what was in my inbox. Did not see this coming...nope, no siree Bob...

We would like to take this opportunity to thank you for hosting yourWedding Ceremony here at the Tropicana Resort and Casino on 2/8/2006.It was a pleasure to be of service to you and your wedding party and ifthere are any other weddings planned for your family or friends, we hopethat you will recommend our Island Wedding Chapel so that we can maketheir day as special as yours.
The Tropicana Resort and Casino is constantly striving to provide amemorable experience for our guests. Whether you’re planning anintimate gathering of family and friends for a social function, reunionor holiday party, our caring, professional on-site staff will handleevery detail of your function and personally work with you tocustom-create the perfect atmosphere, entertainment and dining selectionfor any event.
One of our professional Catering Managers, Marie Landacre or Judi Gullo,will be following up with you by email or telephone to answer all yourquestions and to help you plan any event you may have in the future.
Please click here to link directly to our Catering and Banquet web site: Our Catering Department canbe reached at 800-468-9494, ext. 2768 to speak with Marie or Judi forimmediate details.
deborah han wedding coordinator
tropicana las vegas resort and casino
3801 las vegas blvd so. las vegas nv 89109
702-739-2222 hotel 702-739-5410 direct 702-739-2696 direct -702-739-2696 - fax

Thanks Debbie! Really loved having the dull spoon shoved into my chest rooting around for my already broken heart. Mind sending me your LEAVE A COMMENT link again? I'll be sure to pass your information onto my EX HUSBAND and his CURRENT GIRLFRIEND. Thanks. 'Preciate it. You'll have to excuse me while I run out of my office in tears.

Do you have one of these?

Have you ever met one of those people that just has done everything, seen everything, owned everything, blah blah blah blah BLAH? And if not them, then their uncle? Or sister? Or third cousin twiced removed by the Holy Spirit's uncle's mother's grandfather? Sheesh. Everything is always so dramatic and drawn out and that's ABSOLUTELY how things are and have to be forever and ever amen.

Oh, and all a big fat lie as well.

signed by,
~Uterine Overlord


I have found my calling in life.

On a side note, studies conducted in my apartment says that chocolate, no matter regular or dark, IS good for you.

Parades and PMS

You know those big balloon thingies they have in the parades? The ones of characters like Snooper or Wonder Dog or Spiderman? They're all rounded and kind of glide around bumping off of random puffs of air like a giant weeble wobbles in the sky. That's how I feel right now. I feel like I am putting on my own little Thanksgiving Day Parade everytime I walk by someone's cubicle. I'm so stinking bloated. It's all part of my uterus's master plan to not only kill me, but convince me to take down others in the process. I have my Air-Zooka on stand-by for just that reason.

And my goldfish are burnt. My Pepperidge Farm Goldfish Baked Snack Crackers FLAVOR BLASTED with Hot'n Spicy Cheddar. Burnt. Bitches. Don't think that in my current mental state (being controlled by the Uterine Overlord and all) I'm not writing a nasty letter to Pepperidge Farm right now. Screw up my lunch will they....


Have YET to stop laughing

Oh good grief, this cracks me up every single time

Half Days Rock My World

As you may have deduced from the title, today is a half day at work, which I could not be more excited about. It's like my own little tiny vacation. Yea!

So the last couple of days have been kind of mentally exhausting, and it's mostly because my uterus has been making preparations for my killing as well as everything else on top of it. Like what, you say? Well, I'm glad you asked.

So Wednesday started with The Smoodge and the Geneticist, which I'm pretty sure is the sequel to Beauty and the Beast, but I could be wrong. Anyway, except for the fact that we had to get up early and drive through morning rush hour traffic to downtown, it was fairly boring. They took her vitals, had a genetic counselor come in and verify some information, had a medical student come in and verify some more information. And can I just say this about the information verification? What is that all about? I wrote it didn't I? It's my address or really think I'm going to write down one, then when you verify, go, oh is that what I wrote? that's completely wrong, THIS is the right one. Boy I'm sure glad you verify the hell out of things. Anyway, then the actual geneticist came in and began the physical exam. Now, not to disrespect anyone in the genetics profession, but come on. Do you guys just make this shit up as you go? The doc measured her eyes, top AND bottom lids, measured her ears, measured her fingers, measured her head (i'll give her that one), measured her chest (alright, she can have that one too), then poked and prodded pretty much every where else. And what she came up with was a bunch of subtle signs that individually may not have meant anything, but with all of them together there may be an issue. And apparently, have a curved pinkie is one of those signs. As well as a crease in her hand that has something to do with hockey sticks. Hence the idea that geneticists (genetici?) may just be making all this up. Curved pinkie? Hand crease? Seriously?

But back to the story. So the geneticist finished with her (fake) physical examination and decided that The Smoodge was going to need blood work. Alright, I had already mentally prepared myself for that. After all, geneticists have to do with GENES, and GENES are in your BLOOD, right? So duh about the blood work. What I wasn't prepared for was the 7-10 vials of blood they were going to fill. And while I was assured that it looked like more than it was, it was only about 2 or 3 teaspoons worth of blood, I couldn't help but think they were lying outright to my face. I mean, come on. If I were to lay those viles on her chest, it would have covered her torso, and one or two would have laid on an arm or leg. And even if it were ONLY two or three teaspoons, she can't have more than 5 in her whole body to begin with! She's little! Hello, you know she is short, it's one of your subtle freaking signs! But hey, I'm not the one with the fancy degree on the wall, so by all means you vampires, take as much as you want. And they did. They filled their blue viles and green viles and red viles and yellow least two of each, and a few maybe three. And poor Smoodge, she took it like a champ...I think I cried more than she did. They also had to get a urine sample, and so they stuck this little baggie on her hoo-hoo and we were supposed to just wait until she filled the bag. And she did...but unfortunately not with urine. She had a rowdy butt explosions that contaminated the bag, not to mention her shorts, the towel the was sitting on, and my arm. So new bag it was. Then we went back out into the waiting room so she could play while we waited for her to piddle. Now, normally I'm not one of those mothers who judges you based on how your kid treats mine. But those little turds in the waiting room left me with no choice. At one point I got to stare down a 3 year old and I have to say, I'm glad I won. I don't know that I could have faced myself in the mirror had he punked me out. I know we're in an enclosed room with nurses and all kinds of play things for kids, but that doesn't mean you get to skip out on being a parent during that time. One guy was on the phone the whole time, completely oblivious to the fact that his little PITA daughter was barricading herself into the playhouse with all the books in the joint, glaring at The Smoodge through the little pink window anytime she made an effort to open the door, yelling what I can only assume to be baby obscenities. What really ticked me off is that she had no interest in the play house until The Smoodge started to play, and then when she did, she was being a little Nazi about it.

So an hour later, The Smoodge still hasn't piddled in the bag, and I've run out of diapers, food, drink, and patience. So the nurses use a catheter on her, which I was hoping to avoid because I've had a few, and the only things more painful and uncomfortable would be kidney stones and running your hand through a meat grinder. Sure, child birth might be up there, but I was smart enough to fully utilize an epidural, so I get to claim blissful ignorance on that one. She cried, of course, but two seconds later, with a vial of urine to prove it, we were finished and got to leave. The nurse gave The Smoodge a little puppy to hold on to for being such a champ through it all, and hung on she did. I think she felt that stuffed animal was the only person who hadn't betrayed her with some sort of abuse all day long. And granted, I didn't inflict any pain, I didn't stop it either, so I got lumped in with the rest of 'em.

Fast forward to after I dropped a VERY asleep Smoodge off at the daycare and was headed back to work when the geneticist called me. I knew the blood work wasn't supposed to come back for 3-4 weeks, I guess because it takes that long to process THAT MUCH BLOOD, so I was quite shocked when she said that the blood work had come back. Well, that couldn't be good. Then she assured me that it was the basic blood work, not the 3-4 weeks stuff, that would still take 3-4 weeks. Gotcha. She started by saying this was fine, and that was fine, and oh this? this was fine too. And while she's telling me how fantastic Smoodge's blood work is (duh, I made her), I started thinking, why is she calling to tell me how good things are? Then the other shoe dropped. Smoodge's liver tests came back elevated. How elevated, you ask? Well, normal levels on these two tests are between 10 and 30 whatchamajigs (and yes, that IS the technical term). On one test, The Smoodge was at about 185, and the other 231. So what does this mean? Well, it means it's a good thing she has her 18 month visit coming up quickly, because if she didn't we'd have to make an appointment in the meantime. And at that 18 month visit, there are going to be more blood tests and possibly a sonogram of her liver. It won't be until we have a comparison test will we know more about why her liver levels are like this. So if the next test shows that they have decreased, then she was probably fighting off a virus that gave no symptoms (and apparently that DOES happen and is common) and her liver was still filtering it out of her system, or the levels stay the same and it means she might have some sort of hepatitis. Not the alphabet kind (A,B,C) but the literal translation of the word hepatitis and that will need to be addressed. I will tell you though, when she said hepatitis, all I could think was, I KNEW THAT SKANK HE'S BEEN SCREWING WAS DIRTY! And now she's tainted my daughter! But no, like I said, not the alphabet kind. Lucky for the skank.... The third possibility is that the levels continue rising, which means there's a very serious issue that needs to be addressed. What that serious issue might be, who knows. Liver failure doesn't normally happen until the numbers get into the thousands, so we do have some time if something is wrong.

So yeah, pretty emotionally exhausting stuff. But, some time, some warm baths, and some chilled wine, not to mention some good advice from mom, have helped calm me down and put things into perspective. We don't know anything yet, and there's no reason to borrow trouble.

With that in mind, only 1 1/2 hours until HAPPY HOUR!!!


Is This Day Over Yet?

Oh my god am I tired. Today was probably the longest day in the history of days. Ever. And I'm so exhausted from it I barely have the energy to type this.

The Smoodge had an appointment with a geneticist today.

I stop there because I simply don't have the energy to get into the whole back story of why, and all the clever and witty repertoire I had in store for this entry has completely left me. And I can't get into how the appointment went without wanting to over-analyze the day, and did I mention how tired I am?

So instead I'll say this. I had high hopes for the American Idol Lord Andrew Lloyd-Webber episode, and instead I was left with the butchering of some of the most incredible music of all time. If you haven't seen the episode, let me save you the time of suffering through 6 performers when the only two worth a crap are this one and this one. The rest, my cat farts with more musicality.



Tuesdays are a bad day for me. Tuesdays are not a day for you to attempt to talk to me if you are associated with the company I work for in any way, shape, or form. This is not secret information. This was instilled into my co-workers brains by my predecessor, and I have done what I can to carry on this tradition, even bringing weapons into play. So on these Tuesdays and occasionally Wednesdays and on really bad weeks Thursdays of Death, I put my phone on Do Not Disturb. This means two things: 1. DON'T FUCKING DISTURB. and 2. I have to manually answer when someone intercoms me. Which I stupidly did a few minutes ago, and this is the conversation that ensued:

ME: (pushing speaker button) Yes?
Receptionist: Hey, are you in the middle of something?
ME: (hand searching for sharpened pencil and gripping it tightly) Yes, payroll
Receptionist: So are you busy?
ME: (pencil snapping in my hand) YES
Receptionist: Oh okay..... Brian with the supply company wants to take me and you out to lunch one day and wanted to know when would be good for us. I didn't know if this week would work for you or not, but next week he can do it as well. He just wants to get with you again and then meet me because I wasn't around when we switched to his company instead of the other one. So when is good for your schedule because I'm pretty much open whenever.

The only reason why she's still alive as I type this is because she's knocked up, and as of yet, I have no reason to hate her fetus.


Tattoo Story

My friend Tina is this striking woman with very fair skin and VERY black hair...very Betty Paige. She is also very tattoo-ed. Now keep in mind, it's not like she has a tat here and some ink no. She's got them on her chest, on her back, on her arms, on her legs...pretty much everywhere. Any quick glance in the mirror after a shower, or hell, even fully clothed, would show that she has more painted skin than plain. A few months back I did a pin up photo shoot of her just for kicks and grins, and while sorting through my images, we had this exchange:

Tina: Those turned out really well! I'm surprised at how hot- wait...
Me: What?
Tina: I didn't realize I had that many tattoo' come nobody said anything?

I understand how you could forget about having one or two tattoos. I've got a 6 inch panther on my right thigh and it will occasionally startle me because I've forgotten it's there. But this? Seriously? Oh, and in case you're thinking, oh that's not THAT bad, she's added several more since this was taken.

All over.

Master of Disguise

She's WAY cuter than I am. And don't think she doesn't know it. She has turned into such a little manipulator. How can you say no to a face like that, even if it is hidden under a polka dotted hat and sunglasses?



The Smoodge and I went on our normal Saturday morning grocery shopping trip this morning, and it abnormally went without incident. Normally one of us starts to get fussy about being there too long, but today neither one of us did. Hers was in part because she had found the cutest little hat, one I fully intend to stare at while eating 'shrooms to enhance the experience. And when I say she found it, I mean she literally found it. I had pushed through the baby area and stopped to look at one of the many outfits that I found adorable, and when I turned my attention back to her, she had snagged it off the hook it was resting on, had put it on her head, and was staring at me waiting for a reaction. I busted out laughing, and decided that hat would be good for her to wear outside to keep her albino skin from bursting into flames. So she wears the hat all through the store, eliciting responses from anyone with any amount of estrogen pulsing through their systems. Which reminds me, what is it about Hispanic women and the need to touch stranger's babies on the head? I can't go anywhere in this freaking town without someone patting my daughter on the head like the belly of Buddha. Anyway, I also decided to grab her a pair of sunglasses as well since she's spent the last week constantly trying to wear mine, and let's face it, toddlers and anything costing more than a cheerio is a bad idea. Cute hat, cute sunglasses, cute baby...I'm pretty much set. Now, I should have taken a picture of her to share with the world the mass amounts of cuteness she was emitting while sporting her new accessories, but I didn't. Instead, I decided that that this would be a good idea:

There's absolutely no point to this story, and pretty much no reason for me to have taken this picture, I just wanted to make sure it was posted somewhere that THIS picture is what I want on display at my funeral.


Emotional Rollercoasters

There's a blog that I have linked to my site called Boobs, Injuries, and Dr. Pepper, which, since I began reading it, have really enjoyed. Lately though her blogs have been really affecting me on a personal level. There are a lot of things that she is going through or has gone through that I can relate to, either through personal experience or because it's something I am constantly afraid I will experience. Her post from Wednesday That's my worst fear coming true. Now, her situation is a lot more extreme than mine is, but it embodies what I am scared to death of. She was represented by a crap attorney, I'm representing myself. Her baby daddy's family paid for an expensive attorney, my ex's family is paying for him to have an expensive attorney. She has experienced the injustice that can be handed out by police officers, and I'm definitely no stranger to what happens when you are no longer behind the Big Blue Wall. She was a single mother doing what she could to make ends meet, and girl (or boy, I don't want to discriminate), I'm right there on that one. So in reading about how her situation turned out, it petrifies me. I really don't know how she made it through it, because I know how thinly I am hanging on, and that's while I still have my baby. I can't fathom what would happen if I were to loose her.

Speaking of The Smoodge, she has got to be the most fantastic, sweetest little girl ever in the world. Tonight after we had gotten home, I was sitting on my bed taking off my shoes, and had set my socks on the bed while I watched her waddle around my bedroom while yelling at me about my day. She noticed my socks, walked over and picked them up, and took them directly over to my laundry hamper and dropped them in. I stared at her for a moment, then promised her that for dinner we would have animal crackers and chocolate milk. Anyone that sweet deserves whatever their little heart desires.


Britain Really Does Got Talent

So obviously living in the States I don't watch a whole lot of Britain's Got Talent, mostly because between American Idol, House, ER, and the whole slew of other shows I'm addicted to but only get an hour a week to watch, who has the time? But this evening while I was fixing dinner I had the Ellen Show on, and she played this clip of an amazing 13 year old boy that has the voice of an angel. I normally wouldn't have paid much attention, and I didn't hear the intro so I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that I was grilling chicken, trying to keep The Smoodge from shoving all her refrigerator magnets UNDER the fridge, when a sound filled my small apartment that made chills run up and down my spine. I went in to see a startlingly young boy singing his proverbial pants off. I stood there hypnotized by this beautiful, pure voice. When he was done, I realized I had tears streaking down my face. I rewound the clip to find out what the heck was going on during my normally funny, stress-free show, and saw this was a 13 year old boy who had been singing since he was 6, and was bullied at school for it. And when asked how he dealt with the bullying, he simply shrugged and stated, "I ...carry on singin'."

The things you can learn from watching TV.


Yesterday I had to cancel my lunch meeting that would have been at Olive Garden because of the mandatory company meeting that I had to attend. What's even more frusterating than having to attend a mandatory company meeting? Attending a company meeting that ends WAY early enough for me to have kept my lunch meeting, that's what! BOOO!!! HISS!!!!!


Wednesday Wonderings

Can I just say that I am ROCKING the alliteration this week! What's up now?

Have you ever sat down to watch T.V. and think to yourself, I can enjoy about 15 minutes of not doing a damn thing before I need to take care of a few things before sitting down to a Spurs game and a glass of wine. Then you wake up 2 hours later feeling like someone slipped you a roofie, not knowing where you are, what time it is, how you got in this position, and where did your bra go? I had put the Smoodge to bed this evening and sat down on the couch to do just that at about 7:15pm, then woke up laying face down on the couch with my feet hanging over the arm at about 9:30pm. At some point during this bout of unconsciousness I had taken my bra off and flung it onto the coffee table. So I got all the affects of the roofie, but none of the fun. BOOO!

What is it about fresh cat litter that invites the psycho kitty to take the biggest smelliest crap ever? I change the litter this evening, because I learned my lesson here about all of that, take the trash outside, come back in, and get slapped in the nostrils with the foul odor of cat ass. Nice. Also, I'm not sure what cat urine is made of, but I'm pretty sure it will peel your flesh off if you were ever to touch it. I think that's why the litter is so absorbent, because otherwise it would be a law that cats be branded with a hazardous waste icon on their bums, and then PETA would get mad, and it would be a mess, and who really wants to deal with PETA anyway? And for the record, while his eyes are REALLY blue, and most people would rationalize that the reason they are red in the photo is due to red eye, I attribute it to the fact that he really IS a spawn of the devil, and the camera has done it's job of capturing his soul.

Ever feel like making an inter-office booty call? That's probably about the time you realize times is bad, the end is near.

I had a Britney Spears moment last night and cut my bangs.
And not in a good way. Apparently I forgot to take my meds and hide all the sharp objects in the house. I feel like I have two options now. Either cut the rest of it into a mullet or wear headbands until it grows out. I'm totally blaming this bad call on the worlds most disgusting wine. And although I didn't drink any of it last night, I'm convinced that part of the after affects of said nastiness include not only the inability to operate heavy machinery, but also the inability to make good hair decisions.


I'm so sad.

Tomorrow I had set up a legitimate lunch meeting (as opposed to the lunch meetings I pretend to be on when I go to lunch with A.Shine) and the best part of it all was where it was going to be: The Olive Garden. I know I know, it has it's fault, everyone has their opinion, blah blah blah, but you can't tell me that the soup and salad with bread sticks phenomenon isn't the shizzle. Anyway, so yeah, Thursday has been the highlight of my week because this lunch was going to RULE! Even if the meeting sucked, it's a lot easier to pretend you give a crap when you've got Zuppa Toscana on one side of your cheek, a bread stick on the other, and a forkful of yummy salad.

I had to cancel my meeting. You know why? Ask me why. Go ahead.


Hence, the I'm so sad.... :(


Payroll Apologies

My excuse for not blogging. Because payroll has taken a big straw and sucked my brain out through my ear...the right one to be exact. That, and another thing, but I'll have to blog about that some other time.


Too Tired To Title

Ah, alliteration at it's finest. I'm not sure which excites me more, the fact that I was able to make the alliteration out of the title, or the fact that I can remember that it's called alliteration when you do that.

First and foremost, HAPPY BIRTHDAY A.SHINE!!!

Don't you hate when you forget a friends birthday, even when you spend the entire week preceding telling yourself, don't forget, don't forget. Then the day comes and you have absolutely no idea until you read their blog and think, so much for all the reminders. To my credit, I did TRY to take her to lunch today, and I knew there had to be some reason for the urge to do so. So I'll just credit my subconscious for trying to turn me into a good friend :)

I bought a bottle of wine the other day, and when I say bottle, please understand that I use that term loosely, and only because I can't very well describe a bottle of wine as being an over sized juice box of wine. I was perusing through the wino section of Wal-Mart, actually looking for what I normally get, and this giant juice box containing 13% alcohol/volume leapt out at me from the shelves. And not only because of it's container. But also because it's a lime green color, which is one of my favorite colors in the world. I pick up this juice box of happiness and look at it for awhile, contemplating whether or not I should buy it or my usual, when I realized that this was not a moment for decision making. My basket would easily fit both wines, so the choice was simple. Both it is. So I get home after my shopping, put the groceries away, get The Smoodge to bed, and get myself ready to be delighted by the wine in the clever colorful container (more alliteration! I rock!). I go into the kitchen, get out a glass, and pull the wine out of the fridge. Now, I'm no wine connoisseur, but I do know you are supposed to sniff the stuff before throwing it back, and I do enjoy the smell of good alcohol, so I took the screw top cap off and took a big whiff. And almost threw up into the sink. It had the distinguished smell of fermented grapes and the same smell my daughter's butt emits when her diaper is ROWDY. I cough, then reason that perhaps it's because it's in a juice box container, and surely that's what I'm smelling. Maybe it was shipped next to rotten eggs or something. There's just no way that the actual liquid inside could be what's making that horrific odor. So I pour a glass. Thinking back now, I should have taken a sniff of it after I poured. And in thinking about it further, I think that's when you are supposed to sniff it anyway. Whatever, I put the ass in class, and I've never claimed any differently. Anyway, I did not sniff. Instead, I lifted, opened my mouth, and waited for the wonderfulness to hit my tongue. Bad f!@#ing idea, Bobby. My eyes immediately began to water, I had to resist the urge to spew that nastiness all over my newly cleaned kitchen, and I'm pretty sure that blood started to drip from my ears. It tasted EXACTLY AS IT SMELT. What a let down. Seriously. I'm pretty sure this is the same stuff that janitors in mental hospitals use to clean the toilets. I poured the glass down the sink with a look of sadness, but I can't bring myself to pour the rest out. I mean come one, it's still wine. And you never know when times are gonna be THAT hard. Or when some creepy guy claiming to want to buy your sofa comes over and asks for a drink while he's here. Anyway, here's a
picture of the bottle:

As you can see, it looks like it should be at the very least a good time. It even gives you ten reasons why you should drink it:
1. Because it tastes good. And I'm sure that's the case if right before you chug you were licking a dog's ass after a poo.
2. 33% more wine. How is that a selling point with a taste like that?
3. Lower shipping weight= less fuel emissions If I don't care about the ozone, can I have something that tastes good instead?
4. 96% wine, 4% packaging. Why waste $$ on packaging. A point I wouldn't argue with had they spent that money on developing the taste instead of getting high on glue
5. NO corked wine. Right. Because the truly great wines of the world are ALL screw top lids...
6. Wine to go-go! There's actually a picture of a girl dancing next to this one, and the only reasons I can come up with her doing that is because a) she's high on the glue or b) she actually drank a carton of this crap and now her ass is about to explode.
7. 1 Truckload of empty Bandit cartons=26 truckloads of empty glass. I really don't have anything clever to say about this, just didn't want to leave it out.
8. Made largely of Renewable Resources. If this is what has come of that whole Reduce, Reuse, and Recycle campaign, we got screwed.
9. You can toss it in your cooler. Or the trashcan...whatever is easiest to hide the shame in purchasing this junk
10. You can crush it on your forehead when you're done. Okay, now this one might be worth it IF I could drink it all. But I can't. So this is a moo point (holla FRIENDS).
They actually call themselves the Liberators of World Class Wine. LIARS! FABRICATORS!


Much ado

I've been in a funk lately that I can't seem to shake. Usually I can ignore it and pretend that things are fine, but recently it just seems that no matter what is going on, whatever this is is drawing it's life from every breath I take and keeping me from enjoying life. Things upset me more, stupid things that I shouldn't even care about, and normally wouldn't care about. People who I hold dear to my heart are annoying me, and it's about such stupid, trivial things that I should be able to reason myself out of the frustration I'm feeling, but can't. And I want to say something to them, to say, hey stop being so flippin' stupid, but then I think, if I say something, then I may lose their friendship, and that's not something that I'm ready to do. And it's not like I can vent about it here, because they read this, and the issues that are bothering me are specific to them as individuals, so they would know I'm referring to them, and then either be pissed at me for being pissed about it, or be pissed because I was pissed and blogging about it rather than bring it to them directly. So I don't say anything, bottle it up, and let it fester. After all, it's what I do best.

For those of you that care, here's the pics I said I'd like from the picnic yesterday. Not too exciting, but enjoy.

There's more I could write about, but I just can't pull up the motivation to do it. I'm too busy being angry at myself for being a chicken shit.


Best Friday in a LOOONG Time

The day started fairly uneventfully. Work. Panicking over a set of checks that had been misplaced (NOT by me), panicking over a check that didn't get paid. Trying to figure out how to waste the remaining 45 minutes before noon. You know, the usual. Then once noon hit, I put on my T-shirt and tennis shoes and headed out with the rest of the work drones to the park for the company picnic. I didn't want to go, but I thought, oh what the hell, free food. So I went. I took my camera, which I'm glad I did, because I got to shoot again, and realized how much I really miss shooting sports. I didn't do very well, after all, it's been oh...2 years since I shot sports? but it wasn't bad. I'm actually uploading my images now, and maybe I'll link them so that others may point and laugh. So that was alright. Then, after the picnic, THAT's when the fun started. I headed out to Stone Works...or Werks...not quite sure, but it's a good time nonetheless. I'd only been out there once before, and it's this high falutin' place in the Quarry that has an outdoor area you can eat at, or just hang out and drink, or whatever. And whatever is what we did. Just hung out, talking, drinking, enjoying the afternoon in the shade. It was sooo nice and relaxing. Makes me wish that I could be single in this city, because then I might enjoy it more, instead of hating it as much as I do. But it's all good. Right now I'm not going to worry about that, I'm just going to sit back, eat a cold piece of pizza, have a beer, watch the Spurs WIN against Seattle (they freakin' better), and just enjoy the evening. Maybe things aren't as bad as I thought. It's amazing how having a good afternoon can improve your mood :)

Tick Tock

Except much, MUCH slower. Today is only a half day at work, because we're being forced to co-mingle with each other in a park setting. Whatever. I'm bringing beer, I don't care what company policy is. Take that.

My stomach has been growling like CRAZY. I'm pretty sure that the FedEx building across the street can hear it, and are wondering what's up with the thunder on a cloudless day. There's probably at least one guy hiding in a closet reliving some boogey monster dream from his childhood. Seriously. I don't know when my stomach has ever grumbled this loud before, or for this long. And it's not the 'I gotta find a bathroom' grumbling, it's the 'I'm going to eat everything in sight' grumble. Which frightens me, because I'm not sure that's the attitude I want my stomach to have before going to a COMPANY picnic.

Because then I'm sure the 'eat everything' grumble WILL turn into the 'FIND A FUCKING BATHROOM' grumble.


Feeling The Bile Rise

There is nothing, NOTHING, that makes the detritus rise in the back of my throat the way an old man who smells like old beer and looks like an extra on a porn set does when he's talking to whom I can only hope is his wife in baby talk, with his voice all high pitched and grating. Seriously dude, grow some nads and knock it off. Or at least go outside, because nobody, probably not even HER, wants to hear you speak like that. Ugh.


I'm cranky this morning. Like unusually so, more than the normal not a morning person crankies.

Like the next person that talks to me may very well end up on their backs as I write on their foreheads in black permanent marker.

Joe Pesci ain't got shit on me.


More Information

Than you could ever want to know about me. If you want to know your own info, go here and only enter the birthday information.

19 December 1980
Your date of conception was on or about 28 March 1980 which was a Friday.
You were born on a Fridayunder the astrological sign Sagittarius.
Your Life path number is 4.
Your fortune cookie reads: Grand adventures await those who are willing to turn the corner.
Life Path Compatibility:You are most compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 2, 4, 8, 11 & 22.
You should get along well with those with the Life Path numbers 6 & 7.
You are least compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 1, 3, 5 & 9.
The Julian calendar date of your birth is 2444592.5.
The golden number for 1980 is 5.
The epact number for 1980 is 13.
The year 1980 was a leap year.
Your birthday falls into the Chinese year beginning 2/16/1980 and ending 2/4/1981.
You were born in the Chinese year of the Monkey.
Your Native American Zodiac sign is Owl; your plant is Mistletoe.
You were born in the Egyptian month of Menchir, the second month of the season of Poret (Emergence - Fertile soil).
Your date of birth on the Hebrew calendar is 12 Tevet 5741.Or if you were born after sundown then the date is 13 Tevet 5741.
The Mayan Calendar long count date of your birthday is which is12 baktun 18 katun 7 tun 9 uinal 8 kin
The Hijra (Islamic Calendar) date of your birth is Friday, 11 Safar 1401 (1401-2-11).
The date of Easter on your birth year was Sunday, 6 April 1980.
The date of Orthodox Easter on your birth year was Sunday, 6 April 1980.
The date of Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent) on your birth year was Wednesday 20 February 1980.
The date of Whitsun (Pentecost Sunday) in the year of your birth was Sunday 25 May 1980.
The date of Whisuntide in the year of your birth was Sunday 1 June 1980.
The date of Rosh Hashanah in the year of your birth was Thursday, 11 September 1980.
The date of Passover in the year of your birth was Tuesday, 1 April 1980.
The date of Mardi Gras on your birth year was Tuesday 19 February 1980.
As of 4/9/2008 4:41:12 PM EDTYou are 27 years old. You are 328 months old. You are 1,425 weeks old. You are 9,973 days old. You are 239,368 hours old. You are 14,362,121 minutes old. You are 861,727,272 seconds old.
Celebrities who share your birthday:
Jake Gyllenhaal (1980)
Kristanna Loken (1979)
Alyssa Milano (1972)
Tyson Beckford (1971)
Amy Locane (1971)
Jessica Steen (1965)
Jennifer Beals (1963)
Robert Urich (1946)
Richard Leakey (1944)
Alvin Lee (1944)
Tim Reid (1944)
Al Kaline (1934)
Cicely Tyson (1933)
David Susskind (1920)
Ralph Richardson (1902)Top songs of 1980
Lady by Kenny Rogers
Upside Down by Diana Ross
Call Me by Blondie
Starting Over by John Lennon
Another Brick In the Wall by Pink Floyd
Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen
Rock with You by Michael Jackson
Magic by Olivia Newton-John
Funkytown by Lipps, Inc.
Another One Bites the Dust by Queen
Your age is the equivalent of a dog that is 3.90332681017613 years old. (Life's just a big chewy bone for you!)
Your lucky day is Thursday.
Your lucky number is 3.
Your ruling planet(s) is Jupiter & Neptune.
Your lucky dates are 3rd, 12th, 21st, 30th.
Your opposition sign is Gemini.Your opposition number(s) is 5.
Today is not one of your lucky days!
There are 254 days till your next birthdayon which your cake will have 28 candles.
Those 28 candles produce 28 BTUs,or 7,056 calories of heat (that's only 7.0560 food Calories!) .
You can boil 3.20 US ounces of water with that many candles.
In 1980 there were approximately 3.6 million births in the US.
In 1980 the US population was approximately 226,545,805 people, 64.0 persons per square mile.
In 1980 in the US there were 2,406,708 marriages (10.6%) and 1,182,000 divorces (5.2%)
In 1980 in the US there were approximately 1,990,000 deaths (8.8 per 1000)
In the US a new person is born approximately every 8 seconds.
In the US one person dies approximately every 12 seconds.
Your birthstone is Blue Zircon -->The Mystical properties of Blue Zircon
Zircon helps one be more at peace with oneself. Some lists consider these stones to be your birthstone. (Birthstone lists come from Jewelers, Tibet, Ayurvedic Indian medicine, and other sources)
Blue Topaz, Ruby, Lapis Lazuli
Your birth tree is
Fig Tree, the Sensibility
Very strong, a bit self-willed, independent, does not allow contradiction or arguments, loves life, its family, children and animals, a bit of a butterfly, good sense of humour, likes idleness and laziness, of practical talent and intelligence.
There are 260 days till Christmas 2008!
There are 273 days till Orthodox Christmas!
The moon's phase on the day you wereborn was waxing gibbous.


The Witch is Dead, Which ole witch? The WICKED WITCH!

No nobody died, I'm just having a little personal happy dance moment now that payroll is done. Nothing to see here people, keep moving.


Mixed Feelings

There are army men hanging out down by the pool my apartment overlooks, and I'm torn between two emotions. With the first I'm channeling my grandmother and resisting the urge to chase after them with a broom, it's 10:30pm and SOME of us are responsible adults, and you do NOT sing as well as you think you do (and after the third time, we GET that you don't practice Santaria). In the second emotion I'm sad, because I really want to join them in their drinking and merriment and camaraderie. I haven't had that in a long time, and at this point in my life I'm beginning to wonder if it's something I'll ever have again.

The man who came to look at my sofas the other night, which I blogged about here, called me again last night. I was right, he doesn't want to buy my couch, but he does want to bring me some wine and hang out one night. And I don't want to. I'm sure he's a perfectly nice man, but this is one of those weird situations where I can honestly say, it's not you, it's me. I don't want to go through the awkward dating scene. I want the comfort of a relationship that you've been in for a long time. And yes, I realize you have to go through the awkward dating scene first, but not necessarily. I have known 3 men in my life where there was that instant spark. The first was my best friend in college, Peter. The second was my ex husband. And the third, I'm not ready to discuss because I really don't want to deal with the raw emotion that accompanies it. There's no future in that, but the spark was there, the ease in which you can have a conversation about anything and everything and know that the person listening to you doesn't think you are crazy, even though it's only the second time you've ever talked to them. That's what I want again. And I'm most afraid that maybe I've hit my third strike, and I'm out.

Whoa, that got all sad and shit. Let's end on a lighter note shall we? So there's two muffins sitting in an oven, and one muffin looks at the other muffin and says, man it's getting hot in here. The second muffin looks at the first and goes, HOLY SHIT A TALKING MUFFIN!

Sheer and Utter


Have you ever been so bored that you're skin crawls? Like actually crawls? You can feel it slithering along your bones, while your muscles tense and your spine begins to stiffen? Yeah. That's me, right now.

I shouldn't be bored. Actually, I should be doing my job, which keeps me plenty busy. Except I DON'T WANNA! I don't wanna and I'm bored because I don't wanna because it's the same stupid thing week after week after week after get the point. I DON'T WANNA!

That was a good little fit. Not the best I've thrown, but not bad for now. We'll see what I can come up with later:)


Slang o' the Day Redux

My sincerest apologies to those who have been sitting on the edge of your seats waiting for the Amish slang. But that's what me and the drug dealers have in common, we get you on the comeback.

Without further ado, Amish Slang...

It’s all
Origin: Amish Slang (Amish)
Definition: gone, finished, depleted
Example: I asked her for a pretzel, but she said, “It’s all”.

I'm sure it was all you hoped for and more. Tune in next time for Quaker Slang: The Legend and the Reality.

Slang o' the Day

My personalized Google page updates me on slang. You know, to make sure I can still communicate with them young whipper snappers. Anyway, today's slang included a term catorgized as Amish slang, which disturbs me. I'm not sure why, but the Amish are just a group of folk that in my mind shouldn't speak slang. It's almost like hearing one of the apostles say to Jesus, wuz up my nigga?


Soooo Tired

I didn't post anything on Friday because I thought with all that I posted on Thursday, surely you couldn't need a post on Friday. Instead I'll blog today :)
Yesterday The Smoodge and I went and had some pictures taken, and I have determined one very important thing: it is stupid to pay for pictures that I could do a better job on. I know, that sounds like that should have been an easy conclusion to come to, but the last time I did pictures with The Smoodge, she didn't want to look at me, only at the props, and when she did look at me, she couldn't see me because I was behind a beast of a camera, so she wasn't interested, and would go back to the props. I thought that maybe having someone else take the pictures would make for better shots, because then she could see me and would smile. Nope, not so. Instead, she just wanted to CLING to me like a refugee on a life raft in the middle of the ocean with her face buried in between my legs, because there was a stranger in the same room, and God forbid this stranger, this IMPOSTER, see what her face looks like. I guess she didn't want them to recognize her from her appearances on America's Most Wanted. Regardless, it was the most exhausting photo shoot I've ever done, and I've done some pretty rowdy photo shoots. My back feels like it belongs to a ninety year old woman with osteoporosis. And at the end of the shoot, even though the pictures of her weren't the best ever, I STILL paid a crap load of money for them. You can see them here. (By the way, those are ALL the pictures taken exactly as they came from the camera, not just what I purchased or how the final prints came out)

After the pictures yesterday, I had a guy interested in buying my couch and chair come out and take a gander. I apparently give crappy directions, worsened by the fact that San Antonio makes crappy roads and even crappier construction, and the poor guy spent about 30 minutes literally driving in circles around my complex looking for me. The final time he called me before he found the place, he made a crack about having a cold beer waiting for him when he got here. I chuckled at that, and hung up the phone. He got here, we did the normal introductory thing, and he asked if he could go out and look at the view from my balcony, which isn't bad (I overlook the pool). Sure, Strange Man I've never met before, come on out. We stood out there for a minute making the smallest of talk, and he brings up the beer again. Ummm...seriously? Yup, he was serious. So, in the spirit of being a good sales person and giving the customer what he wants, I grabbed a beer for him, and he proceeded to have a seat on the sofa and tell me his life story. I'm trying to look interested. I've spent the last MONTH trying to sell this damn thing, and I'm hoping at the very least this guy will feel sorry for me and buy it. But seriously, don't care that you used to live in Seattle and that you're divorced with an 11 year old and are in San Antonio because you are an electrical/computer engineer. This is a sale, not a date. But it's been so long since I've been on one of those that maybe I'm getting the two mixed up, and I'm beginning to question whether or not this is the one where I'm supposed to sleep with the guy. No no, I'm pretty sure that's the date one, not the sale one. Whatever, he finally finishes the dang beer and asks to use the restroom. I almost want to ask him if he's trying to buy the apartment from me or the couch. Anyway, there's not really a point to this story other than he's probably not going to buy my sofa (my thoughts, he claimed he would, but he may as well have said 'I'll call you'), I wasted a beer, and I don't care what I'm selling, I don't like strangers in my house.

Today was tiring as well. I spent a little while in NB hanging out at the DQ because a friend of mine was having a car wash there to benefit Relay for Life. It gave me a chance to show off my ridiculously expensive photos of The Smoodge too. When we came home, Her Smoodgeness went down for a nap, and I got down to business getting my living room set up now that my entertainment center is gone. I finished the wiring for my TV and surround sound, moved the sofa and chair around to better accommodate, which KILLED my shoulders and arms, and voila! Here's the result:
I'm pretty excited about it. It gives Smoodge so much more room to play, and that's what's really important. Well, that, and now I'm going to give my neighbors something to REALLY bitch about now that the surround sound is operational:) I would also like to state that organizing wires and hiding them is a LOT freaking harder than I had envisioned, and as I type this my fingers are SCREAMING at me because they are so raw. So if you are keeping count, we've got sore shoulders, sore arms, sore back, and bloody fingers. Man that's sexxy.


And Suddenly... life has meaning again.

The Best Resume EVER

One of the girls I work with recently showed me the resume I'm about to share with all of you. I couldn't keep this to myself, it was just too...much. What frightens me is that the resume was in response to a job posting for a sales repat a college business center. College. The future of this country. And without further ado....

Heritage Christian Academy
University of Texas at San Antonio '05- '06
Kingwood Community College '06-'07
University of Texas at San Antonio - current
San Antonio Communtiy College - current
Classification: Sophmore

GC Promotions:
Pokemon Tour Promotion
Caress Glow Promotion
Gilette Model Search Promotion
Attack Promotions:
Ponds Clean Sweep Promotion

Other Jobs:
Tawl Health Care:
Office Manager Asstistant- Clerical work
Beauty Dept. Assistant
On floor model
Kids Involement Network:
Afterschool Assistant
Afterschool Assistant
UTSA Athletic Dept:
Treasure of dept. Assistant

32 A
size 3

Im very outgoing and energetic. I love interacting and meeting new people. I have
my own transportation and camera if needed. I am a student but am not currently
employed. I have alot of free time.

To make this whole package even better, there are three photos that accompany this awesome resume, but I refuse to post them for the simple fact that I already feel entirely too dirty.

That Darn Cat

I spent about 20 minutes last night trying to determine through a nose more plugged up than..well, insert metaphor here, you get the picture...what on earth that smell is. It smells a little like something is burning. So I'm thinking to myself how I can get both The Smoodge and the TV out at the same time, and have reasoned that The Smoodge can walk, grab the TV, but I just simply can't get over the fact that it smells like something is on fire. And I have no idea what it could be. Maybe a neighbor? But I don't hear any alarms going off. I didn't cook anything that evening, wasn't burning any candles. I didn't even have the humidifier in The Smoodge's room turned on. Then I thought maybe it was because I just got out of the shower, and I run my water only a degree lower than boiling, so maybe the water stunk? I sniff my hair, and nope, that's not it. Seriously, this is driving me crazy. So I get up and walk around, and don't notice anything, and now, because my nose is so stopped up, I can't even tell if it's a real smell or if I'm imagining it. I am beginning to very seriously consider the odds of that smell just being the snot in my nose. Then I notice something on the sofa chair. So I walk over and look down on it, and I have a flash back from about 30 minutes ago, when I last glanced at that sofa chair, and thought how weird it was that the cat was sitting on that sofa chair glaring at me like I'm some sort of criminal, and it all makes sense. That little shit had the NERVE to pee on my sofa chair, and not only that, but then he's going to look at me while he's doing it as if it's my fault! So I'm standing there, incredulous, very seriously doubting my good human nature as I'm overcome with the urge to skin him and wear his pelt as a hat, trying to come up with SOME good reason as to why he would do this, and it hits me like a ton of bricks: I hadn't changed the kitty litter in a good week and a half.

Turns out, that whole piddling on the sofa thing WAS my fault. My bad.


My Heart, it's all...


Killing Time

I'm trying to kill about 30 or so more minutes before I watch American Idol. I know I know, the show just started, I could watch it now. But I don't want to watch it now, I want to watch it while I work out, and while I work out I don't want to watch commercials, because then all I'll think about is the fact that I'm working out and I don't want to be. So if I wait about 30 minutes, then I can watch American Idol while working out and NOT watch commercials. Makes sense in my world.

So I'm surfing the web, killing my 30 minutes, and I've discovered a few things. The first of which is that A.Shine is creepy. Creepy in a 'I can see you right now' kind of way. Her post today had me checking my IP address and thinking, am I really going to her blog that much? I mean, I know I check daily, but is it creeping her out? But fortunately, it was not I that she blogged about today. I guess that would have made me the creepy one if it had been.....

The other thing I discovered is that I haven't posted anything worth a crap on my flickr site recently. I guess that would be a big honkin' sign to myself that I need to go out and shoot more, but it's hard for me to get motivated on the stuff I look at on a daily basis. On the other hand, (I have five fingers...HAHAHAHA), I guess I could make that an appropriate challenge to myself. How to make the mundane interesting. OR, I could rally my hot friends and say, hey, want some pin-up pics of yourself? Get all dolled up and come over, we'll take some shots. You know who you are. And I just so happen to be Smoodge-less this weekend. That's so much more fun. Not the being Smoodge-less part, but the part where I take pictures of other people and wow them with how incredible they can look.

Twelve minutes down, 18 to go.

Do you ever have days at work where you just feel like throwing something at everyone who walks through the door? I'm perilously close to doing just that. Maybe tomorrow will be that day. On a happier work note, the IT guy threw a pencil into the ceiling tile above my desk, and it makes me happy knowing that it's there, and I'm one of two people that know about it. I especially like when The Boss comes in for meetings and sits directly underneath it, because I know that at any given moment it could fall and bounce off his head, and I know I couldn't keep a straight enough face to keep myself from falling under suspicion. Hell, I can't keep a straight face now just thinking about it. Heehee! And not to make this a post ALL about work, but how can you take a person seriously when you walk into his office and on his screen, plain as day, is the crotch shot from the most recent round of sonogram pictures. I almost always have to hold my hand up so I can't see it because I'm pretty sure it's looking at me, and that freaks me out. A lot. It's gotten to the point when I speak to this person, I stand with my back to his cube. I'm sure he thinks I'm weird, but I'm not one with the dirty fetus pics on my desktop.

I think I'm going to try kicking my diet Coke habit. I know, there are other habits that other people would rather I kick first, but it's a start, so before you go hitting the comment button to flog me on the subject (hehe, blog flog), the more you tell me I shouldn't do this or that, the more I want to. The diet Coke habit kicking came because while I was sick I haven't had a taste or yearning for it whatsoever, and hell, since I'm already off the caffeine withdrawal, might as well keep it that way. And yes, it works the same way with the smokes, but that's a harder habit to kick, and when you talk about it, you scare it, so slowly walk away, don't make eye contact, and whatever you do, don't puff up.

I think I've killed just enough time. Mission Accomplished :)

Run That By Me One More Time?

So let me get this straight. You're giving everyone a half day on Friday to have a picnic with games and what not, but then everyone that comes has to be in charge of a game, thereby making it so that they can't play games.

Translation: Hey, today, once the sun reaches it's highest point and the humidity level really has time to peak, go do your work outside, but instead of doing your work, I want you to do manual labor while watching your co workers enjoy themselves.

Yeah, I'm gonna have to take a rain check on this one.


Always On My Mind

I've had this blog at the forefront of my thoughts today, mostly because I couldn't think for the life of me what I would write about. Go figure, it's a blog, and I've got writer's block. I'm not even a freakin' writer, how unfair is that?

The last couple of days have been pretty uneventful. I was on my death bed yesterday, fully convinced that I was going to smother in all the excess mucous my body was producing. And while I realize that may be a bit graphic for some of you, try living it. I got my TV mounted, which I am so thrilled about, I can barely contain myself. I even got the shelf put up that all the electronics will go on. And that's where I'm stuck. I can't figure out a good way to do all the wiring so that it looks nice and neat and not at all like the server closet where I work, which resembles a technological Medusa, and if you trip, there's a good chance it will grab you and integrate your brain into it's already malfunctioning system. But I'll get it figured out eventually, and I'm hoping getting rid of some of this furniture will help to inspire my thinking. But then again, getting rid of the furniture is proving to be an impossible feat of it's own. Ah, the evil cycle of it all.

It's April Fool's Day, which is stupid. It can't possibly be the fourth month in the year already. Didn't we just change into 2008, and now we are already a third of the way through the year? Ridiculous. Unacceptable. What that also means is that The Smoodge will be 17 months tomorrow. Please hold while I have an anxiety attack.....

Okay, that was fun. Plus, the Spurs have come back from halftime, and I'm hoping they can stave off the Warriors and pull off a win. It's been an interesting game thus far, and Pop got a technical foul called on him early on, which almost always means an exciting bout of play. What's even better, is that it will be an exciting bout of play on my new bad ass TV. :)

And in closing, I'd like to leave you with a link that I got from another website that I frequent, Dooce. The link takes you to a photo gallery that was done entitled Life Before Death, and it really is one of the most well done, beautiful, thought provoking galleries I have ever seen. If you decide to look at it, then make sure you read the captions that go along with all the photos.