Love Hurts


I love my iPod. I love it more than I've ever loved any inanimate object in my lifetime, except for maybe those jeans I had in college that made my ass look like a wrapped gift from God himself. Unfortunately my iPod doesn't help my ass look better, but it does make me happy and keep me entertained on those 3 HOUR COMMUTE days that I've become subject to lately. It did, anyways.

I purchased the new-fangled iPod video (60G of ipod goodness) in February of this year. I loaded it up with my music and audiobooks, then began taking advantage of the video features. I downloaded stuff from the iTunes store, and I also used some very savvy websites to help me figure out how to get uTube content into a format that my iPod would recognize. I was a very happy woman. But then things started going downhill.

At first, it was just an odd reset now and again. It seemed to me to be happening at odd times - in the middle of an audiobook (which means that I completely lost my place) or when it would turn off automatically and I turned it back on, it would reset itself completely. It was annoying, but not a deal-breaker or anything. I could live with it.

But then it started doing it more often. I consulted the Apple - Support website and learned that the best course of action would be to reset it to the factory defaults and try again. So I did that, with no ill will at all. Everything went smoothly, and it was actually a surprisingly quick process. I was not upset at all.

A couple of times when I plugged it into the computer, I got a notice that the software needed to be updated. I let that happen gladly, thinking that it could only be a good thing. Maybe others were having the same issues as me and the good folks at apple were being proactive. But alas, it was not so. The thing kept resetting itself, now much more often than I was comfortable with. So I visited my friendly local apple store in downtown Seattle. Nice bunch of folks, those apple store people. The dude I talked with was very helpful, suggesting a number of different things I could do, including the factory reset again. Optomistic person that I am, I went home and did the reset again. Second time. And it still got worse. I reached my breaking point last month when it started freezing up or resetting every time I tried to play videos. It would either play the video, but the clickwheel wouldn't respond, or it would start playing the video for about .25 seconds, then reset itself. I did the factory reset one more time, trying to be rational and calm, but it didn't work. I had had enough, so I did a support request on the website, which was very easy and straightforward, and waited for them to send me a box for shipping.

I was pleasantly surprised a couple of days later when I got an email from them stating that, after reviewing my support request, that they were going to replace my equipment. Good for me. I figured that I can't have been the only person experiencing these issues, and perhaps apple was making good on my $500 investment. I sent them the iPod.

I've come to find out a few things about apple support which I'm not excited about. First, their communication language is the same wether they're actually "replacing" your item or resetting it to factory defaults and sending it back to you with a "no trouble found" tag. Seriously. It got it back and after reloading all of my stuff, the same damn thing happened when I tried to watch an episode of Grey's Anatomy. Immediate reset. Fuck.

I'm not going to go into the gruesome details any longer. Suffice it to say that after yet another factory reset, I'm still not able to watch video. I even pulled off all of the video stuff that didn't come directly from the iTunes store. No dice. I was driving home the other night, crossing the ship canal bridge, when I tried the video again, and it damn well froze up so I couldn't stop it. I did a very nasty 3-lane shift (in traffic) and got off at 45th and went stomping into the apple store. I explained to the very charming young man at the service counter that I was having problems again. In fact, he witnessed the very problems I was talking about his own self, plus he commented on the fact that he could hear a clicking noise that he shouldn't be hearing. He filled out a little form on his lovely Mac, and printed it out and I signed it and he took my beloved iPod away. Again.

So... now I have to suffer my nasty-ass, 2-hour+ commute without the calming sounds that my ipod provides. It's truly been so long since I've purchased an actual CD that I had to burn a few just to have something besides FM raido to listen to in the car. I'm not happy.

This morning I received a call from the apple store, stating that I needed to cancel my open service request (one I opened in frustration after reading the "no trouble found" comment on the last one) before they can send the ipod out for the service. The dude told me I could cancel it online, or call apple and cancel it. Which brings me to yet another sourse of apple-related frustration. RAR!!

I have never, in all of my searches - which included "find on this page" searches for the words 'phone', 'call', and 'fucking phone number' - seen anyplace which gives a number with which to contact someone human who can help you with your issues. Perhaps I'm retarded, but I just haven't seen it. It doesn't help, probably, that by the time I get around to wanting to talk to a human, I'm so frustrated that I can't even spell my own name any more, but that's beside the point.

So... here I sit, with no ipod, needing to cancel my service request (referred to as a 'replacement request' on the website. right.) and not being able to. The dude at the apple store is waiting for me to call him back so he can send my little friend away to be replaced by a new little friend to fall in love with again.

Sigh.
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Thankful


ladies
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
It's cliche, but it's true. I am thankful today and every day for friends and family who make life bearable.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.
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RAR!


Random things I'm thinking about today:
  • When can I stop driving 160 miles every day? Can it be sometime soon, please?

  • I'm getting the best pedicure in the known universe on Friday morning. The Picasso Pedicure here. It's not cheap, but it's worth every penny. Done by professional girls with fun personalities who are native English speakers. (give me a break. I like being able to chat with my pedicurist when I'm with them for over an hour in a small room. No bulk pedicures at this place.) They do an incredible job on my heels every single time. And the paint job is to die for. NOT your standard white flower with sparkly silver sprigs. The first time we went I got multi-colored polkadots. Another time I got a chocolate brown base with pink pinstripes and big white flowers. One of these times I'm going to get the Leopard print... but not this time. I'm getting something autumn-y... or maybe Christmas-y, because, yes, it WILL last that long. Seriously. The paint lasts until you have to take it off because your damn toenails have grown out too far for it to be cute any more. Maybe snowflakes...

  • I'm listening to ANTPodcast for the recap episode right now. It's good with the ladies, though I miss Scotty's input. One of the substitutes has a great laugh - not sure which one though. I think it might be Joey.

  • I need to take more pictures. Every day. It depresses me that I don't have the time or (lately) the desire to use my fancy camera for anything. I try looking around to find something to photograph, but everything I see bores me. It doesn't help that it's started raining here, and it doesn't look to stop until sometime in February. Or March. I think I'm depressed.

  • I've been charting my basal body temperature in an attempt to prove to myself, and my gynecologist, that I am NOT, in fact, perimenopausal. You read that right. Apparently my age, combined with my complete and total lack of any kind of regular cycle, points to menopause. Fuckity Fuck. If that's not the most depressing thing I've heard all day, I don't know what is.
I'm done whining for today. Probably.
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More about the ANTP'ers


OK - so Max now officially reminds me of Jason Schwartzman, but most definitely with the glasses from his Rushmore days. Their voices are nothing alike, so it's rather odd that this is the mental picture I'm working with since the basis for my picture is the voice. Heh.

Amy is eluding me still. The fact that she's said she's Asian does not jibe with my preliminary image, so I've had to go back to the drawing board for her. But I'll get there...
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The Halloween that went fftttt

That sound is something like the air being let out of a baloon.

OK, so I'm sorely disappointed in the lackluster turnout last night. I bought a metric fuckton of candy in anticipation of the marauding hoardes of beggars. The first poor lot that rang my doorbell got two items because I was rewarding them for being prompt. But as the night wore on, I was giving out great handfulls of stuff because of the sucky turnout. I would have thought that, being in a new housing development, we'd get absolutely raided. When I was a kid, coming across a place like where I live would have been cause for celebration, and two trips around the development. But it was not so. My doorbell rang exactly 8 times, and the most interesting thing that happened all night was the little girl dressed like a chicken who said, after I gave her a massive handfull of candy, "I had lemonaid. My cat died. How many stairs do you have?"

My kids froze their little butts off, but they had fun. This was, I'd have to say, our best Halloween to date. They're both old enough to really enjoy the costuming and getting ready part of the program now, as well as the resultant sugar high. They both took pillowcases to haul their loot instead of cute little buckets like they've always had before. They came home after going around our neighborhood (which was a sadsack little trip around, apparently. Lots of houses not participating) to warm up. Kierstin left with black and hot pink ski gloves on - a lovely addition to her Ice Queen costume.
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Toying with the idea of becoming a stalker


I'm completely in love with Amy, Aaron, Scotty, Max (and Javier) over at ANTPodcast. I'm insanely jealous that they get to do this, that they have each other to do this with, and that they're doing it without me. Listening to them makes me want to move to Texas and stalk them collectively. It's a good thing they don't have photos posted on the website...

I've (as I type this) been listening to the podcasts for Episode 4 and 5, and I've gotten the strangest looks from my coworkers because I keep snorting and laughing out loud.

I'm a little wierd about voices, even outside of the podcast-type environment. The other podcast I listen to religiously is Tim Gunn's, and I know what he looks like, so there's no imagination necessary. But I've developed mental pictures of a couple of the ANTP'ers based on their voices:
  • Scott's voice reminds me of this dude who plays Damian in Mean Girls. I like his laugh - it always makes me laugh right along with him.
  • Aaron's voice reminds me of one of the guys on the Boeghy Bunch team in the World Series of Pop Culture on VH1. The cutie blonde guy. I totally love it how he's always the one to bring up everyone's complexion. I think I smell a little obsession here.
I haven't got a picture of Amy or Max yet. I'm almost there with Amy, but not quite. Max eludes me, and Javier was only on one of the episodes I've listened to so far, so I don't have him either yet.

As far as the subject matter of the podcast, here's my own opinions:
  • If Eugena doesn't spontaneously combust, I'm going to have to go to LA and light her on fire. I can't stand her. She's awful.
  • CariDee comes off as being as dumb as a bag of hammers, but I think she's going to win. I hope she's going to win, anyways.
  • Someone needs to kick Jaeda in those pneumatic tits. Soon.
  • Final 3 prediction: CariDee, Eugena, and Melrose. Unless one of them fucks up so badly that they get the boot, of course.
I know, I hate Eugena... but Tyra can't seem to let her go.
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GRRRRR...


Today, I am bothered. Here's the up-to-the-moment list:

1. Cackle Lady and the Marauding Elephant Herd
She's bugging the crap out of me this morning. Her overloud cackle is so annoying, mostly because it's a cackle and not a laugh. The building I'm currently working in is a strange one. Anyone who walks through sounds like a herd of elephants. And I can hear, loud and clear, conversations that are happening 3 rooms and one hallway away. Partly it's because of the building, and partly it's because people around here have never heard of inside voices. There's constant thumping around and various conversations. This is a state agency, so there's not usually a whole TON of work being done, which makes for lots of conversations, both work related and otherwise. The lady on the other side of the room from me just had LapBand surgery in June. I know all about it now, because she was discussing it with the guy in the cube next to her. There is no such thing as a private conversation inside this building. The one bonus to the loudness is that nobody sneaks up on me. My cube is back in a corner, but I can hear people coming before they get here, so I can minimize my solitaire screen before I get pounced on.

2. Drivers in this state.
Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. The. Fast. Lane. Asshat! It's not your job to enforce the speed limit at 4:30 in the morning. In point of fact, it's not EVER your job to enforce the speed limit, unless you're wearing the requisite bowtie and a patrolman's hat of the state troopers. Move the fuck over or I'm going to shoot your tires out as I blow by you on the right, then cut you off as I swerve back over into the Fast Lane. AARRRGGGHHH!

3. This job.
I hate everything about it, not the least of which is the commute. 2 hours, each way. 160 miles daily. At an average of 18 miles to the gallon, we're talking about a buttload of stops at the AM/PM on a weekly basis. I'm tired of it, and I want it to be over. Of course, I don't want to be unemployed, but I also don't want to drive like this any more. I'm actually getting tired of listening to books on the drive, and I didn't think I'd ever say anything crazy like that.

4. Did I mention I hate driving?
I'm tired of my car, and my ass planted in the seat of my car for 4 hours a day. I'm numb by the time I get to work, and numb by the time I get home. I need a new seat.

5. The sad lack of available jobs in my field.
I'm going to have to change careers or something unless things improve, and I don't want to do that. The thought of having to become a PM in order to pay the bills makes me want to slit my wrists, but I may not have a lot of choice in the matter. I'm hoping that the new year will bring more projects (upgrade, people. now.) but I'm not hopeful for some reason. You'd think that if companies were planning to make that kind of project, they'd be looking now and not in January, but maybe I'm wrong. I hope I'm wrong. Please, let me be wrong.

I can't think of anything else at the moment. And that's bothering me too.
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old habits die hardest


As I was exiting the shower last night, my charming husband was sitting on the edge of the tub looking at me. I don't know what exactly it was about the look on his face, but it caused me to have a somewhat odd thought. Before I divulge that thought, let me say that it's a true testament to the strength of our relationship that my comment didn't offend or upset him in any way, shape or form. When I asked him, just now, if he was offended, he laughed. So there you have it.

My thought, and comment to him, was this: Sometimes I wonder why we're still married.

(Damn. Am I a charmer or what??)

Is it because it's easier than the alternative? I'm not the easiest person in the world to deal with - I admit that - but would it be worse to have to date again than to continue to put up with me?
Is it a habit? Are we so firmly entrenched in our little lives, and the lives of the girls, that it's not even something we think about any more?

Despite how the above sounds, I'm not having a crisis of any sort with regards to my marriage. I'm comfortable. We rarely fight. Seriously. Because fighting would take effort of some notion, and neither one of us has the energy for it. When things we disagree on come up, I've expressed my opinion, he's expressed his opinion, they're rarely the same, and that's the end of it. We are at a constant impasse - neither willing to put up the effort it would take to attempt to convince the other how right they are about this and many other things. We agree to disagree, and that's the end of it.

He made a comment, at some point, about how I overact (not overREact, mind) to make my point when he doesn't react the way I want him to. And that's totally right on the money. Basically, he doesn't take me seriously when I act like I'm upset/unhappy/whatever, so I go overboard to prove my point and try to get him to respond. You see, he's very non-reactive in the general sense. Getting him to say something, ANYTHING in most any situation is difficult. The good part about that is that by the time he gets around to mentioning that he's unhappy about something, I'm fairly certain he's ready to throttle me because it's bothered him so much and/or for so long that he's finally tired of it. And it takes a whole lot to get him to that point, which makes it very dangerous for me to have an opinion or reaction when he does say something.

Most of the time I don't handle it too well. I don't know what it is in me that can't remember that every other time I've NOT just let it go, it ended badly. It bothers me that he waits until forever to say something, then acts all pissy, so I get pissy back. Every once in a while I attempt to let it go, but it seems like if I do, he gets pissy-er, and more demonstrative about it, until I react. Perhaps I need to take another tack at this point. Maybe apologize, sympathize, perhaps get up off my butt and help him. But then I'm bothered too. It's a vicious circle. He's pissed, I'm pissed, and lots of door slamming and muttering under the breath ensues. The only thing that saves us is that he, unlike me, forgets quickly after he's gotten whatever is was off his chest.

I've been stewing over this all morning, and I think I've come to some conclusions:

First, I think we've gotten to the point where we actually like to pick fights with each other. Sadly, it has absolutely nothing to do with makeup sex, and everything to do with the fact that a reaction - any reaction - is better than indifference.

Next, I need to learn to keep my great, big motherfucking mouth shut. When he vents about not getting any help keeping the house clean, I need to remember that he actually does the laundry, and the dishes, and takes out the trash, and vacuums, and any number of other things that a lot of men don't or won't do. He's absolutely right at that point. Sure, he's as big a slob as the rest of the occupants of our household 6 days of the week, but that 7th day comes around and he eventually cleans up after himself and the rest of us. And, in truth, that would be well worth weekly venting sessions. They don't happen weekly, but it would be worth it.

Last, but certainly not least, I love my husband. Not out of habit, and not out of fear of dating, but out of knowing that I've found the one and only man that I ever want to see me naked. Just kidding. He's going to laugh when he reads that, and that right there would probably be the REAL reason why we're still together.
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Playing Picasa


I've never gotten into Photoshop because, knowing myself as I do, I realize that to do so would be to surrender every spare moment I have from now until the day I become proficient at manipulating anything and everything my twisted little heart desires. That would be probably decades from now. In the meantime, I'm giving my time away to Picasa.

What a wonderful little thing, this Picasa. I could spend days and days messing around with this thing. Wait - I already have. How come I didn't know about this until now?

This is the sad monster. With a little sharpening and my favorite effect (glow) this picture is really cute. Who knew? [photo lost when old host went bye-bye :( ]
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claw marks


I have no idea what I'm doing wrong, but my site is on restriction for some reason.
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My Saviour


Casserole!
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
This is Casserole. Isn't she cute??

She's the only reason I don't spend each and every day crying in misery, wondering what the hell I was thinking when I moved so far away from my family.
She's the reason I can laugh and have some semblance of a normal life here.
She laughs at me when I'm trying to make her laugh, which is gratifying.
She also laughs at me when I'm NOT trying to make her laugh, which is humbling.
She doesn't look at me with big, googly eyes or gasp in shock when I drop the f-bomb on occasion.
She hands me two Premysyn and a glass of water, hold the judgement, when I need it.
She does the best homemade chicken noodle soup ever. She cheats on the noodle part, but it's so good I'm willing to overlook it.
She tries to motivate me to move my fat ass in some way that will benefit my general health.
She's just as devious as I am, plus she could kick my ass with her little 5'2" self if she felt it was necessary. I'm scared of her in that way, and I wouldn't say that about much of anyone else I know - except for maybe Shell.
She takes care of my most treasured posessions on a daily basis, and loves them almost as much as I do, I think.

She's my fiend, and I love her. In a completely non-lesbian way, of course. All that lesbo stuff is totally reserved for my Shell.
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Party Animals

Saturday was Kierstin's Birthday party at the Build-A-Bear Workshop.

If I'd had any idea what I was getting myself into, I'd have convinced her that she wanted to have a sleepover at home. It would have been way less nerve-wracking, I'm sure.

The place was crowede to begin with, then add a line of 11 girls of assorted ages marching through the store shouting "Chose Me!" and you've got yourself a party. My favorite moment was when said line marched around yelling "Stuff Me!" repeatedly.

Aside from the clogged stuffing blower thingy, it went off without issues, though. Everyone had fun, and the monster raked in a fat load of loot. She got enough beads to make a necklace and bracelet for every girl in her first-grade class. When we got home, she lined up her haul in a very orderly fashion, across the length of her bedroom, and sat and admired it all for a moment before beginning the onslaught. Right now there are barbie boxes and bead strings and assorted packaging strewn about her bedroom. It's a disaster area.
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au naturale


au naturale
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
I love this picture, because it's a perfect representation of my two young ladies and who they are.

Madison: the slightly moody, emotional, pre-pre-teenager who is pretty sure she's going to make her living as a supermodel. She's definitely going to be a 6-footer; she's athletic and, in my humble opinion, beautiful.

Kierstin: the freakshow sister. Crazy, unpredictable, always making a face of some sort in pictures. An unending source of amusement to me and everyone else she knows.

These are the poses they struck when I told them to "show off your new haircut". Enough said?
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Seven years of...



Pain in my butt. Seriously.

But she's living proof that:
One can be totally in love with pain in the backside.
Smiling is therapeutic.
Redheads have a temper.
Chemotherapy does not necessarily equal sterility.

I love you, Miss Roo. Happy Birthday.
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The Faux Party


Shell and Avery
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
Rochelle Nicole. (Yes, I know you hate that name, but it's yours.) She was there for the birth, and all birthdays thereafter. But not this year.

We've moved to Seattle - a crime that will never be forgiven - and she can't be here for Kierstin's birthday for the first time in 7 years. Kierstin is most likely not aware of this fact, but Shell is. And I think it just might break her heart all over again.

Last weekend we went to Teddy Crafters and I took pictures of the teddy-making process. After Kierstin's party I'm going to give her the elephant and the pictures of her being made, in an attempt to make her cry.
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This is me, bemused and shaking my head...


So... late as usual, I'm going to use my own space to comment on Dooce's comments section, which is now closed.

Referring to this entry, and the comments thereafter, here's my .02 cents:

Appalled says: (way down near the bottom, where people got nuts and freaked the fuck out)

If you were upset and could not speak to communicate your needs, and you were crying in the middle of the night, how would you feel if your spouse walked by your room and ignored your cries? You would continue to cry until you came to the realization that the person who means more to you than anyone else in the world was not going to help you. Then you would stop crying. You would stop crying not because your needs have changed or gone away; no, you stop crying because you feel defeated. It is no different for your child.



Deb says:
What the fuck kind of nonsense are you spewing? First off, infants lack the congitive reasoning skills to be offended and despair over such an incident. It's that simple. Second, to read your comments is to believe that Heather and Jon left Leta alone in the house crying while they went to dinner and a movie, or that they just ignored her and put earplugs in so they could sleep. Anyone fool enough to beleive either of those things shouldn't be allowed to be a parent themselves. Third, to think that teaching your child to sleep through the night is in any way detrimental to their long-term mental health is to be the kind of crazy that nets you a child who grows up to stab you to death during your sleep. Not because you left them crying in their crib when they were an infant, which I'm sure you'd argue a futile case for, but really because you're the kind of parent who indulges every whim of your child, thinking that you'll be endeared to them for eternity because of your loving ways.

Here's the deal: Children of all ages need routine and structure. Parents who grasp that concept and begin applying it early are more successful in the long run.

Heather and Jon never left the house, never stopped being upset by the hard reality of their choice, and I applaud them while standing up. The first time I tried this technique with my oldest daugher, I lasted exactly 15 minutes. I couldn't handle it. Fortunately, we tried again, and were successful. I now have a nearly 10 year old daughter who sleeps over 9 hours each night, and sometimes more, as well as a 7 year old who does the same.

Parenting is a hard job, one that I don't do very well sometimes. Fortunately, I am fully capable of learning from my mistakes, and rarely make the same ones twice. It is my strong belief that letting my children cry it out when they were infants was not, in fact, a mistake of any kind. They are both well-adjusted and happy, and neither one of them has ever asked me why I abandoned them in their 6-month-old hour of need. I've also never caught either of them drooling at my bedside with a cleaver, contemplating just how many whacks to the head it would take to remove me, the infant neglecting abuser, from their miserable lives.

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45 - and no, that's not my age


I took the Dr. Phil quiz. Here's the deal:

Your Score was: 45

According to Dr. Phil:
Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical, and always interesting; someone who's constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to their head. They also see you as kind, considerate, and understanding; someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out.

Right. Whatever.
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Four Things


I blame Heather - though I think I might be cheating because she didn't tag me. Nobody reads my blog, so it doesn't matter.

Four Jobs I've Had:
Massage Therapist
Grocery Bagger
Video Store Manager
Ice Cream Scooper

Four movies I can watch over and over:
Victor/Victoria
Empire Records
Pretty Woman
For Love of the Game

Four places I've lived:
Lincoln, CA
Roseville, CA
Huntington Beach, CA
Lynnwood, WA

Four TV shows I love:
House
My Name Is Earl
The Waltons
Monday Night Football

Four places I've vacationed:
Las Vegas, NV
Seattle, WA
Enterprise, UT
Montreal, Canada

Four of my favorite dishes:
Reuben Sandwich
Chicken Divan
Prime Rib
Macaroni & Cheese (my homemade stuff)

Four sites I visit daily:
Dooce
Go Fug Yourself
Homocon
Miriam-Webster

Four places I would rather be right now:
at home
Italy
any Century theatre
the moon

Four bloggers I am tagging*:
DJ Marcus (who doesn't blog that i'm aware of)
Nathan (who is currently in parts unknown, not blogging)
Scott (who is very funny in those podcasts, but doesn't know I exist)
Me (because I didn't really get tagged in the first place)

*One must have readership to tag someone - mine are just figurative.






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The Beast


The Beast
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
How about WT central, huh? That's right... here's how you do it:
1. Spend lots of dough on a big screen plasma-type television set.
2. Mount said television set above the fireplace mantle.
3. Leave the cords hanging down in front of the fireplace.

Looks classy, right?? Hey... we're set for the SuperBowl on Sunday. Go Hawks!

OK, so I'm not the most organized person on the planet. Whatever.

My house is still in a state of disarray. The bulk of the furniture has been purchased, but only the living room chairs have arrived so far. The living room couch had to be ordered, as did the bed and the kitchen table and chairs. I'm not very patient either, and I'm getting more than a little tired of waiting.

We have thus far been unable to agree on what's going on in the bonus room upstairs, so we still need a couch-type apparatus for that room.

For the record: If anyone tells you (like my husband did) that the HDMI cord doesn't make a difference, and that you won't be able to tell the difference between that and the Red/Green/Blue component cord, tell them they're full of shit.
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