(Photo stolen from these guys)
(Photo stolen from these guys)
(Photo stolen from YakShaving on Flickr)
I have been tagged by a friend to fill out this questionnaire. When bloggers do this it is called a meme. I'm going to be cool and let you think I really know what that word means.
1. What kind of soap is in your bathtub right now? SCUM. That'd be soap SCUM.
2. Do you have any watermelon in your refrigerator? God, I hope not.
3. What would you change about your living room? Is "knock it down" an option?
4. Are the dishes in your dishwasher clean or dirty? Never use it; Chas does, so DIRTY.
5. What is in your fridge? Four homemade pumpkin breads, beer, vegetables, and a stain that I SWEAR moves around.
6. White or wheat bread? Whole grains -- the more, the better.
7. What is on top of your refrigerator? My grandmother's copper bread box and my cookbooks.
8. What color or design is on your shower curtain? It's a hot pink hipster number with 60s beatnik chicks and French cats.
9. How many plants are in your home? Three -- a geranium, a hydrangea, and some tropical plant which, through neglect, I've rendered a bonsai.
10. Is your bed made right now? ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha oh stop you're killing me ha ha ha ha ha
11. Comet or Soft Scrub? COMET, BABY! I SWEAR I CAN RUB THIS HIDEOUS FINISH RIGHT OFF! GIMME THE BELT SANDER WHILE YER AT IT!
12. Is your closet organized? In the way that Middle East politics and alliances are organized: one false move and you're toast.
13. Can you describe your flashlight? I can, but then I'd have to kill you.
14. Do you drink out of glass or plastic more at home? Macramé.
15. Do you have iced tea made in a pitcher right now? No, I can't have too much caffeine. Well, I can, but then you'd have to kill me.
16. If you have garage, is it cluttered? Please see the Middle East closet question above. The closet and the garage have an alliance.
17. Curtains or blinds? Both. Neither are worth discussing.
18. How many pillows do you sleep with? One well-pounded ancient dust-mite-Heaven-of-a down pillow, **sigh**. I love it.
19. Do you sleep with any lights on at night? A night light outside our door for the kidlets to find their way in in the middle of the night.
20. How often do you vacuum? It's an insignificant statistic in the way that 10-year weather cycles are insignificant.
21. Standard toothbrush or electric? Standard. Read, FREE from my millionaire dentist, twice a year without fail.
22. What color is your toothbrush? This is fascinating stuff, really it is.
23. Do you have welcome mat on your front porch? Yes. It reads WIPE YOUR PAWS. Do you feel welcome?
24. What is in your oven right now? OH GOD, THE TURKEY!!!! just kidding
25. Is there anything under your bed? Wrapping paper in Tupperware. Probably Barbies, too, if I'm honest.
26. Chore you hate the most? Anything that gets me within inches of the toilet.
27. What retro items are in your home? If by retro you mean "wildly out-of-date," then pretty much everything. Yup.
28. Do you have a separate room you use an an office? No, we have a corner of my computer room we use as a living room.
29. How many mirrors are in your home? I think four. Gosh, I'd better go break a couple of those, shiver.
30. Do you have any hidden emergency money around your home? Yes, it's called Peanut M&Ms Money, and it's whatever is in my wallet.
31. What color are your walls? All of them are Old T-shirt White, except for one bathroom, which is Shield Your Eyes White.
32. What does your home smell like right now? Marinated baked pork cutlets. Slobber.
33. Favorite candle scent? I actually don't like candles. It's too hard to explain, but I feel claustrophobic from the smell. Heavy on PHOBIC.
34. What kind of pickles are in your refrigerator right now? Probably sweet baby gherkins and sweet pickle relish.
35. Ever been on your roof? Oh heavens no. Now that's funny. My heart is pounding and my palms are sweaty. Shudder.
36. Do you own a stereo? Coupla very old components that miraculously still sound better than anything else I've used.
37. How many TVs do you have? Two, plus the little black-and-white that Chas takes to work when the Lakers or the Rams are playing.
38. How many phones? Just one. It's a tiny house.
39. Do you have a housekeeper? Who'd want to break her neck getting the house clean enough for a housekeeper? They talk, you know.
40. What style do you decorate in? It's a blend of Early College Regretable, American Family Castoff and 20th Century Funeral Leftovers.
41. Do you like solid colors in furniture or prints? I like solid furniture. Anything else is gravy.
42. Is there a smoke detector in your home? Yes, and it likes to sing along with my cooking.
I read a number of great blogs every day. Some make me think (so I read those when I'm at my sharpest -- for the five minutes after I eat lunch), most make me laugh, and a handful make me laugh out loud and make donkey noises. When I read those blogs I make sure I have no liquid refreshments anywhere near my mouth.
I received an award today! This is very exciting to me. My blogging friend Jessie awarded me a "You make Me Smile" award. Sniff. I'd like to thank the members of The Academy . . .
Actually, truth be told, it's the fifth award I've received this week. I don't like to brag, but I'm kind of a big deal, you know? Here are the other coveted awards I've received in the past seven days (two of them, strangely, were wrapped in newspapers with dead fish):
Okay that last one I made up. Thank you, I love you all!
(Photo stolen from these guys)
At the risk of lowering this blog's reading level even further . . .
The girls were crowded around me at the computer today, sending Grandma and Grandpa a drawing for their anniversary. The close quarters suddenly felt way too close. "Who tooted?" I asked, to a chorus of denials. Then they started using their imaginations.
Sparky: "I think Daddy tooted before he left for work, and he left his toot here. Daddy tooted."
Smedley: "Daddy put his toot in a jar. With airholes."
I agreed that that was the most likely scenario.
(Photo stolen from this guy)
I'm starting a new section of this blog. This is dedicated to the baddest Bad Boyfriend there could ever be, just short of criminal behavior. I'll call him Nick Asshat.
I don't really feel like explaining the nature of our relationship, since it was STUPID, and I'm tired. And it's not just tonight, I promise you; I wrote a whole entry that took me two days, and I've never posted it. I guess the magic of Nick is either just too hard to take in full doses or it's funnier in tiny vignettes. So every time I remember something (or Chas reminds me of something, since he knew Nick YEARS before I did) I will post it.
Anyhoo, here's my first Nick entry. There are SO many more of these, so if you like them, let me know.
Nick was a binge drinker. During a time when we were casually dating but just as good friends, we had an agreement -- HA! I was flapping my lips again; I had an agreement, and Nick ignored it -- that we could see whomever we wanted, but that we should be upfront with each other. So I started dating a great guy I'll call Jay.
Jay could very well have been my Bad Boy, if I weren't already entangled with Mr. Asshat. He sort of mumbled-whispered-growled when he talked, and he was very sexy. Problem was, I was in love with Mr. Asshat, and Jay was playing the field. Ah, what could have been, sigh.
Every time Jay and I went out, guess who we'd run into? That's right, Nick. There he'd be, stumbling in on the latest wave of partiers through the door. On more than one occasion Nick actually had the huevos to join Jay and me at our table. I remember playing Liar's Dice with Nick at least once while on a date with Jay. But I wasn't always so genial, and we'd usually finish our drinks and leave, only to be found later by the sloshy Mr. Asshat once again. And, since he usually drove wherever he went, plowed or not, and since I wasn't eager for some innocent pedestrian to die, I drove Nick home in his car at least once while Jay followed in his car, mumbling-whispering-growling in a not-so-sexy way. Yes, any relationship I could have had with Jay was doomed.
Jay asked me once, "Are you telling him where to find you? Because it's just weird that he shows up EVERY TIME we go out." I agreed, but assured him I was definitely not telling Mr. Asshat where we'd be trysting that evening. The truth was, Nick hit up pretty much every bar in town any Saturday night he was out. Our only real choice in Nick avoidance was to leave town or stay in, and our relationship wasn't strong enough for either of those options. Sadly, Jay faded away. We're still friends, however.
And, as my consolation prize, I still had Nick Asshat.
Happy Throgsgaffen to anyone checking in here today! I really have nothing to say, other than that.
Oh, except to add this quote from Garrison Keillor on "A Prairie Home Companion" a few weeks ago (apropos of nothing):
"Passive-aggressive: it's a way to say terrible things about somebody while you appear to be concerned."
According to an earnest warning on Volumes 1 and 2, “Sesame Street: Old School” is adults-only: “These early ‘Sesame Street’ episodes are intended for grown-ups, and may not suit the needs of today’s preschool child.”
This really says it all. I have no future as a writer, unless I'm willing to write Janet and mark episodes.
I am! I am! Janet, call me!
If you don't believe I rated that high, go here and check it out for yourself. Just paste in the address of the site you want to check. I'm just going to sit here and cry softly for a while.
FeetFeet!Feet!A rose should smell as sweet.Even though they're made of meatFeet are not so good to eat.
I've been able to do some fun stuff at work lately. In late September I was in a Maisie Jane's TV commercial. Then I got to write, direct and even voice a couple of radio public service announcements (PSAs). I managed to write the word PHLEGM in one of those PSAs, and it was totally appropriate -- a red-letter day!
A couple of weeks ago I did a voice-over for a radio ad on the day I was coming down with the flu. Never mind that it wasn't the best possible vocal day for me; there were some elements of the spot that just weren't right. Well, for reasons which are long and boring we had to redo part of the commercial today, and it came out much better. It's still got some "HUH?" moments, but it's not bad for a non-professional (that'd be moi). I'm the semi-psychotic obsessive spendaholic female voice. The other voice in the spot ("Deb") is that of Rachel, who is every inch the professional, and we use her voice regularly.
Here is the spot -- it's called "Party Girls." I'll wait while you listen to it.
Did you like it? If not, consider that the word PHLEGM is not included anywhere, then reconsider. NOW how do you like it?
Oh well. Maybe we can rewrite PHLEGM into it.
This will be funny to you only if you know who Gwynneth Paltrow and her rock star husband are, and what they named their baby. Somehow Smedley knows about it; I can't remember how.
On the way home in the car today, Smedley was reciting her lines for tomorrow's big Thanksgiving play. She had two or three fairly long sentences memorized, and was repeating them with feeling -- actually acting.
"Wow, that's really good, Smed!" I said, impressed. "Maybe you can be an actress when you grow up."
"No, I don't want that," Smedley said, wide-eyed. "I don't wanna hafta name my baby Pear."
(Photo stolen from spooky daddy on Flickr)
Since I have last talked to you, not much has happened in my small world. A lot has happened around me, though. Here are a few things which stick out:
One of my sisters-in-law is trying to get over pneumonia. This has not been easy, as you can imagine, especially since two of her family members have gotten horrific colds, and the third got hit by a car. Now, now, don't worry, the colds are coming along nicely.
I kid, because the truth is just too scary. Yes, a dear family member was hit by a car last week, and yes, he's home tonight, recovering, with his family. There were plenty of very frightening turns of events, but he's going to be okay. That's about all I'll say for the sake of his privacy -- except that we love him and we're gonna stop worrying now and Holy Cow I'd hate to see that car right now! Kidding.
The preemie baby born into our greater family is also doing well, and gaining weight. Good news does come from bad.
My boss and his wife are in Germany, watching their son Zack play professional basketball. Zack spent the last few years playing fantastic college ball for Chaminade University in Hawaii, and now he's playing for the Giants in Leverkusen, Germany. I looked on the team's web site -- at least I think that's what it was, reading as little German as I do -- and found a picture from tonight's game. I think they played Ulm and won 87-77. Either that, or that's part of somebody's phone number. Perhaps my dear friend Inger Muellenberg will help me to decipher more than the occasional "ja" I am able to pick out.
(Photos stolen from these guys)
Anyhoo, Zack is playing good basketball, enjoying himself, and making his family proud. It's fun to keep track of his progress (even if I'm only making up half of what I read about him). This is his rookie card.
I have a real one somewhere at work. I should probably hang onto it.
And now for some small news from the home front: Chas went to Smedley's parent-teacher conference Friday. He held his breath. I held my breath all afternoon until I heard from him . . . SUCCESS! Smedley came through with flying colors. CPS was not called, no psychiatrists held sway, and Chas didn't have to crash through any police barricades to get out of there. All is well in Smedleyville.
As for Sparky, well, Sparky is alternately the sweetest child you ever met and the biggest jerk you ever met. I don't know where this fits in, exactly -- you decide:
Sparky: "Mommy, your bottom is so big, is doesn't even fit on the toilet."
I told you that because I'm paying in advance in case I have some big sins to cover.
Laurie over and out!
(Graphic stolen from this guy)
Here's an ethical question for you.
My friend lives in a tiny town. He's a family man -- two kids and a wife, a couple of dogs. He teaches part-time at a nearby university. He's a good provider. He is also his town's ambulance driver.
Okay, here's the ethical part. My friend's main occupation is attorney at law (his brother prefers the term Scum-Sucking Lawyer). Does anyone else see a problem with this? He definitely gets a jump on any ambulance CHASERS in town.
"I don't think Mr. Jones is going to make it. I wonder if Mrs. Jones has a good attorney? Somebody needs to pay!"
I wonder if my friend keeps business cards in his pockets?
"Here's my card, Ma'am. Call me . . . after. Hey, have you considered selling your house? It's in a great neighborhood."
I suppose if he had a good "opportunity" in his ambulance he could take the turns pretty hard and go over speed bumps at 45 mph.
"Your neck must be KILLING you, right sir? Here's my card. It's vinyl so the blood will wash right off."
Anyone? Anyone? Buehler? Just kidding about the Scum-Sucking Lawyer thing, Mr. K.
I miss this guy.
I had really gotten used to him, standing, as he was, on top of the R&R Sales auto dealership on the corner in downtown Orland. Of course, MY gorilla, as I've come to think of him, was yellow with red trunks, and I don't think he was holding an Easy Financing sign, but you get the idea.
And he wasn't always standing. For a couple of days during a strong north wind he was bent over, arms straight out ahead like he was preparing to dive off the building, sunglasses missing, trunks around his ankles. I'm not sure that was the message that R&R Sales was going for. But you can bet that now, whenever I think of giant inflatable gorillas, I'm going to think of R&R Sales.