Happy Birthday, Katie!

Last year,I told you all the sappy good things I love about my sister. She, while appreciative, told me they were all lies. "What about all the bad things I did to you," she queried. So this year, I will list all the bad things she did to me when we were growing up:

Well, other than the oft-told tale of the time I wore her favorite jeans without asking and she forcibly removed them from my body--in front of the whole neighborhood--I can't think of any bad things. Nope, Katie, you were an angel through and through. At least, that's how I remember it.

I still love you more than words. Happy Birthday Big Sister.

I give far too much thought to ridiculous things

Case in point: Rudolph's Shiny New Year

Rudolph can fly, so:

1. Why is he searching the islands in a rickety old sailboat? With a sail blocking his nose light(the reason he was sent on the mission in the first place)? when he only has three days to find the baby New Year? When he can freakin' fly around and save us all the torture?
2. When Eon takes off with Happy (the baby New Year), why doesn't Rudy get his ass up in the air and FLY AFTER HIM?
3. When Happy falls, why doesn't Rudolph fly up and catch him, thus cutting about 20 minutes of crap from this show?

And more questions:

1. Why is the guy from the year 1023 called Sir Ten Two Three, which when spoken sounds like the time, not the year.
2. What good are a cave man and a knight with his eyes covered when searching a vast collection of islands for one baby?
3. Why doesn't Big Ben the whale ever submerge? and why is the whale so small?
4. Why would a baby run away from laughter, but willingly climb on the hairy neck of a gross buzzard?
5. Why am I still thinking about this????

Charlie Brown Christmas - Performed by the Cast of Scrubs

A little something my nephew turned me on to. Enjoy.

Merry Christmas to All, except spiders

You know how it is when you're so close to finishing a project that you just stay up late to finish rather than put it away? Well, I stayed up to finish the Baby Yoda sweater (see below--yippee), and while I was sewing it together I watched an old Outer Limits episode featuring Eric McCormick from Will & Grace. In the episode, they were attacked by these gross space spiders (not from Mars)which gave me nightmares.


Now, spiders and I have a fairly good relationship. I generally leave them be unless they're invading my space, like the one who decided to climb down the wall next to my leg while I was sitting on the toilet. I stomped him quickly with the hem of my jammies and when I left the bathroom, he looked like this:

When I returned to the bathroom an hour later to take a shower, he looked like this*:

How did he survive a stomping from my big feet? Well, he won't survive the next step in Laurie Ann's Spider Extermination Service. Placing a towel over my nose and mouth, I grabbed a small can of hair spray that came in a gift pack, which I can't use on account of my asthma but I keep around for just such occasions, and sprayed the evil beast 'til he was a sticky mess...and he STILL lived. I finally grabbed some toilet tissue and squished him but good, then flushed him.

There's another one in my bedroom, but he's tiny so I'll let him live...for now.

Yeah, Baby Yoda Sweater!

*truth be told, it was a Daddy Longlegs, but after its miraculous resurrection, it looked like that, I swear.

Good food, strange politics

China has added new restrictions for foreigners wanting to adopt a Chinese baby . First and foremost, no more single-parent adoptions. Couples must have been married for at least two years before applying. Here are some other highlights of the new restrictions--couples must have a Body Mass Index -- a measure of obesity -- of no more than 40 and be aged 30 to 50, with people up to age 55 considered for children with special needs, according to the agencies. There goes my back-up plan for when the biological alarm clock starts ringing so loud I can't ignore it. (I've already turned it off, but you never know)
The rules bar parents who take medication for psychiatric conditions including depression and anxiety or have "severe facial deformity." What?? Severe facial deformity?? Why on earth should that matter? Honestly, with all the baby girls sitting in Chinese orphanages, you wouldn't think they would be so picky. (okay, the psychiatric conditions thing makes sense).

And this has nothing to do with China or adoption, but Monkeygurrrrrl mentioned something about how all the stupid stunts on America's Funniest Videos are performed by boys, so I couldn't resist bringing you the chimney sweep . Ladies and gentlemen, what kind of logic is at play here. You go to your friend's house to return something; he's not home, so, naturally, you climb down the chimney.

Lastly, this headline just hurt me in my girl parts--Woman With Two Wombs Delivers Three Babies . Two wombs??? That's four ovaries and twice as many menstrual cycles, which, frankly, is two too many. Poor thing.

snowman slasher caught

Now, I'm no fan of the tacky Christmas inflatables, but this is going too far.

Rantings and whatnot

Dog or no dog?--After my whirlwind weekend and a party Monday night (to say Goodbye forever to Tower Records), I've been pretty tired. I fall asleep sometime after Jeopardy and wake up in time for the news. But I didn't mean to fall asleep in the middle of "I want a dog for Christmas, Charlie Brown." Did ReRun get to keep Spike or not? Does anyone know? I'm dying here.

Volvo commercial-- You know that Volvo commercial with the father and the little girl? The child is adorable, telling her father some story that involves a small-headed thing with legs who wants to change colors. Well, I just want to know, who dressed that child? A pink print shirt, striped sweater vest, green and white print skirt, dark tights with white polka dots--seriously??
I mean, yes, real children (my nieces) have thrown tantrums to wear what they choose to school, but you'd think in a commercial, someone would choose a somewhat matching outfit.

Baby Bomb-- Did you hear about the woman who put her one-month-old grandson in a plastic bin and sent him through the airport X-ray? The news called it an "Innocent mistake by an inexperienced traveler" and cited a language barrier. Innocent mistakes are trying to carry scissors or a full bottle of shampoo onto the plane, not putting a baby through the x-ray machine. A BABY!! IN THE X-RAY!!! This is my favorite quote from the news article--"We're trying to figure out what changes we can make, short of putting up signs saying, 'Don't put your baby through the X-ray machine.'" I can't believe that no other travelers tried to stop her. Fortunately, the baby was fine. He'll glow in the dark for a bit, but otherwise, he's fine.

Holiday Displays and the people who hate them--Not only do we have the Snowman Slasher (above) but the Trashy Lingerie lady is getting flack from her snooty Hancock Park neighbors over her incredibly bright Holiday display. Can't we all just get along? It's a few (thousand) lights for one month out of the year. Deal with it.

ah, the coffee and cookies is kicking in, I'm less ranty now. But really, if anyone watched that Charlie Brown special, tell me what happened with ReRun.

I sense a theme

There aren't many people for whom I would get up early, but Miss Kendra is definitely one of them. Why did we get up at the crack of dawn (aka 9:00)? To go to breakfast before attending

BAZAAR BIZARRE!!

Thanks to her superior organizational skills, we got our map, and did a browse lap before actually buying stuff. Although, we couldn't pass up the limited book purses


I love the cover. It's purple and green.





I, unfortunately, don't have the name of the crafty folks who made these, but they were irresistible. My book is called "Lands and People--Near and Middle East."
We wandered up and down the aisles until I was on crafty overload. However, I settled on a few delightful purchases. I bought some buttons and a magnet which I can't show you because someone who reads this is getting one for a present. And then I bought these:



Their names are Cha Cha & Lola.
They have two tails and squeak, too! I can't embed the video but check it out here.




And from the same vendor, Devout Dolls(.com), I bought this:

Hmmm...is that a monkey snake?
Nope, it's a scarf...with a tail!
Don't you just love the expression on his face? I will name him Mowgli.




Look for more delightful photos on Miss Kendra's blog. I didn't bring my camera. More handmade craftiness can be found at www.etsy.com .

Sooooo Sleeeppyyy

Perhaps the internet connection at home wasn't such a good idea after all. I logged on to read some blogs, post, play a game, and the next thing I know it's 5:00am.

All the coffee in the world will not keep me awake until quitting time.

I haven't tried the toothpicks yet.

Parking Sucks! The City of LA loves me, though.

I have had my car for almost a year and never had a ticket the whole time...until November. Beginning the first week until now I have paid the City of Los Angeles a total of $235 in parking fines. Merry Christmas! Can I get complimentary tickets to the Policeman's Ball?

So after two tickets in one week (don't say it; I'm embarrassed beyond belief), the last thing I needed was the aggravation of trying to park at The Farmer's Market for Stitch 'N' Bitch. First, some Beyotch in an Audi blocked the way to the left side of the parking lot, because got forbid anyone get out of the lot before her. Then, after I had to drive around the right side, where I already knew there was no parking, I waited in a line of cars just to get to the left side. While waiting, a spot opened up right up front--Woo Hoo--but the jackhole who was vacating the space was also blocking the path to said space. I quickly turned on my blinker.

Then--this is one for the records, really--a guy in the line of traffic just entering the parking lot sent his bimbo trophy wife in her mink coat, because it's so cold in LA, to STAND IN THE EMPTY SPACE so he could park there in five minutes when he finally made it over there. Are you freakin' kidding me??? I was so angry!! I wound down the window and cussed at him like a sailor on shore leave. He'll be smarting from that for days, let me tell you.

I finally parked in my spot on the left side (seriously, what makes a Dodge Ram think it can park in a spot marked "compact"?) and made my way to my knittas. I was still stewing and raging when I got upstairs, only to find this waiting:

Well, not quite this, for this is just a photo I purloined from Annika's blog, but SAM! (that's the adorable child in the photo) I tell ya, there is nothing like a cuddle from a happy baby to immediately change your mood. Sam has a future career in therapy because everyone he touched left with a smile.

A Rant About Ridiculous Parents

I like to think of myself as a relatively patient person. I don't honk at people who don't move right away when the light turns green. I don't make huffy noises when someone whips out their checkbook at the grocery counter, has a coupon for every single item, or has 15 items in the Express Lane. But Toys 'R Us is one place that would make Gandhi cuss like a sailor on shore leave.

Here's what happened: I was sent on a mission for beach toys (don't ask). While wandering through the pre-school toys, I noticed a lovely wooden Thomas The Tank Engine train set on display. A woman and her toddler son (under three years of age) were playing with it. A zombie clerk was answering the woman's questions: "Is it returnable if he doens't like the one I pick out for him?" etc.

Later, after I circled the store ten times looking for anything resembling beach toys, and visited the ladies room where a scary woman chastised me for not noticing there was no toilet paper in the stall when I sat down (she worked there!), I headed to the ONE register that was open. The woman and child from the train set were in front of me, along with her husband. The boy had a train car in each hand. The child was not crying or fussing at all. The mother, putting on her best "I'm so tired and can't you give me a break" face, said to the clerk, "These cars are from your display. He won't put them down. Can I just pay for these two?"

The Clerk: "I'm sorry, ma'am. They aren't individually priced."

Mother: "Oh, but he won't leave the store without them. They are glued to his hands."

Me: (in my head) "He's a child! Take them out of his hands, walk out the door, and he'll forget about them in five minutes."

The Clerk: "Let me ask my manager."

Me: heavy sigh (I had already driven all the way to Santa Monica only to discover that the Toys R Us on 4th and Santa Monica is no longer there, so you'll have to excuse me)

Beleagered Manager: "They are part of a set. You can buy the set"

Mother: "But he won't put these down. Every time I try he screams."

Me: (in my head) "Oh really? Let me try!"

Beleagered Manager: "Let me see what I can do."

[Manager walks off. In the meantime, Father comes up with a hand puppet and begins to entertain the child, who promptly DROPS THE CARS in favor of the puppet. Mother picks up the cars and puts them BACK into his hands.]

At this point, the clerk finished ringing up my purchase and I left the store before I reached over and ripped the train cars out of the child's hands myself.

All was not a total loss, however. I bought this.

It makes oinking sounds while a blue light shines out of its nose.

I shall stop dissing the freeway

Many of you who know me personally have heard me espouse my love of the surface street as a means of getting around Los Angeles. I don't mind a red light, because I'm actually supposed to be stopped, but I hate stopping dead on a stretch of road that is meant to be traveled at 65 miles per hour.

That said, I have recently discovered the Adams Boulevard exit off the 110. The exit brings me to within two blocks of the office, successfully avoiding the insanity of Vermont Avenue. Sure it's like a game of Frogger trying to merge left, only to have to merge right again. And sure the actual exit, what with people trying to get on the 110 at the same time, can be a little tricky. But I seriously shaved off 25 minutes from my commute this morning. I left the house at 7:45 resigned to being late. I arrived at 8:05, so early that only two other employees were here, and they work in data entry. My floor was completely dark. AND, I had time to apply mascara (which I didn't have time for at home) and set up the conference room. Plus, I look like a dedicated worker arriving before everyone else. BROWNIE POINTS!

Yep, I take it back. The freeway can be a good thing---sometimes.

Poopular

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 725 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

(click here to test your name)
725 people in the United States share my name. My last name is ridiculously common (in the top ten) so I thought there would be more. And I didn't use Laurie Ann, just Laurie. Given how many Laurie's are at the West Hollywood Stitch and Bitch alone, I am really surprised.

I am shocked, however, to learn that there are 1742 people sharing my nephew Roy's name. Roy??? According to this site, it is the 135th most common male name in the US.
Roy??? Seriously???? Because I've known exactly three Roys my whole life and I was related to all of them. My own name ranks 354th in popularity for girl's names.
I am happy to report, though, that 99.64% of all the Roys in the US are male. I suppose the rest are unfortunate girls or gender confused.

I take issue with the results, though. I tested its validity by entering a famous name. It listed said famous person in the "famous people with your last name" section, but listed 0 other people with the same name. Wouldn't the famous person with the exact name count at least as one?

Ta Dah!

Last December, as in Christmas 2005, I had the brilliant idea to knit scarves for all of my classmates at school--well, the cool kids anyway. I finished all but two in time for the gift exchange, and truth be told, I crocheted a couple of them. But two remained undone--unstarted even. Poor Kelli and Audra. They were so patient. I had issues. I couldn't find the right red for Kelli and the right lavender for Audra. I finally found the yarns, and finished Kelli's scarf just in time for those chilly LA summers. Nothing says LA like a thick wool blend.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am happy to report that at 4:30 yesterday afternoon, just hours before our Christmas party, I finished Audra's scarf. (Blocking? You never heard of the "ah, hell, that looks good enough" method?) So, without further ado, I give you--Branching Out!
Pay no attention to the ugly green comforter. Look! You can't even see all the mistakes I made!

And look how happy Audra was to FINALLY receive last year's Christmas present. Pay no attention to the bad cell phone photo. She was blinded by the many flashing cameras already in use and I took pity on her.

Someone has her internet on

And that someone would be me. :) It was waiting on my doorstep (the modem) when I got home from the most hellish. traffic. ever. What possessed me to attempt a trip to Burbank at 5:30pm? I gave up at the exit off the 110 at Stadium Way. But all's well that ends well.

Classic Frau PITA

On Saturday, my always-amusing, usually-annoying landlord (aka Frau PITA), left me an incomprehensible note about having to replace the window in my "bad room." I wasn't sure if she meant my naughty room or if she was channeling a character from a 70's Blaxsploitation film. Fortunately, she showed up on Sunday to clear things up--she meant my bedroom window, which was perfectly fine as far as I was concerned. She said the city inspector recommended changing the windows from the current vertical sliding variety to the more traditional sash (up and down) type windows, to make exit easier in case of a fire. Now, friends, if there's a fire, my ass will squeeze out a window no matter which way it opens, but whatever City dude.

Here's a photo of my bedroom windows before:

Note that they are perfectly servicable windows and the openings are plenty big enough for my ample frame to squeeze out, even though they look small in this photo.

This is what the new windows look like:

Yes, friends, Frau Pinch-a-penny-until-it-begs-for-mercy only replaced ONE window. ONE! On both sides of the house (my neighbor's windows look opposite, so at least they're balanced). And it doesn't look at all like my house rides the short bus to school.

Now, this doesn't really solve the problem of fire exits, because side-to-side or up-and-down, both windows have UNREMOVEABLE SCREENS! I'll have to leave a knife near the windows so I can cut out the screens in case of fire.

And, to make matters worse, the window that didn't get replaced has the screen that someone tried to break into...and it looks like they tried again! It used to be just slightly bent, like someone tried to pry and it didn't work. Now, the screen is bent far from the frame. When are they doing this??? I'm a little scared. (see photo) That gap goes all the way from top to bottom. It used to just bow out a little at that center portion.

A Nod To Annika

Apparently, I'm an infrequent blogger. Perhaps if I had some stinking internets at home I'd do more. Then you'd all be bored to distraction and would stop reading me. I'm of the "less is more" philosophy. Besides, if I'm on the list, it should be DDD-List.

Not the twins!!!

Pardon this moment of "America's Next Top Model" ranting:

Last week it was Michelle and this week Amanda. What is Miss Getting-heftier-by-the-minute Banks thinking? I know what she's thinking...she's thinking of the old "split the vote" trick. Yep, I saw it on Little House On The Prairie when I was 10, and in several TV shows and movies since. She wants Eugenia to win. So here's how Tyra is thinking--We have Melrose (blonde), CariDee (blonde), and Eugenia (black). Twiggy votes for CariDee. Nigel, still bitter over whatever it was CariDee said to him in the bullfighting photo shoot, will vote for Melrose. Miss Jay will swing however Tyra wants him/her to, so Eugenia is a shoo-in.

Eugenia is admittedly very pretty, but certainly not prettier than any number of models already on the scene. But the twins--ah, the twins were unique in their pencil-thin, stick-figure awkwardness. I loved them both, but I should admit that Michelle was my favorite. Even still, Amanda was sweet and she tried really hard. On last night's show, the girls had to Flamenco dance. From the start she was 8 kinds of awkward, but she tried. She stayed up late and practiced her long, gangly legs off. And in the challenge, the dance instructer complimented her on her improvement. You just wanted to hug her hard, but not too hard because her bones might snap.

Sadly, we're left with Blah, Blech, and Dear God, don't inflict that on the modelling world.
I do have to say that I was happy to see someone acknowledge that Melrose "I'm 23 but I look 40" is an unmitigated ass kisser and that CariDee is a drama queen. Thank God, next week is the finale.

I'm mad & blogging via phone.

Stupid phone company! No one showed up so I still don't have an internet connection.
Stupid neighbors and their stupid secured wireless networks.

Ellen Guessed Correctly!

I was down at SC (as the cool kids say it, and incidentally, the delicious Timothy Olyphant's alma mater) for a conference. My organization was bringing the refreshments. This meant my ass was up at 5:00--IN THE MORNING!!!!! As Bart Simpson would say, "They have a 5:00 in the morning now?" It was rough climbing out of my cozy warm bed, but I did it.

I forgot fruit, so I stopped at Ralphs. The fruit trays were expired and the produce gal was pulling them off the shelves. I actually contemplated getting them anyway, but I don't really need to poison anyone while I'm still new on the job.

Then, the crack staff at Starbucks didn't have my four coffee boxes ready to go. Said the girl behind the counter, "Um, it's going to be about 30 minutes?" It's not a question, child. You see, I ordered them to be ready at 7:30 because I needed them to be READY at that time. In actuality, it only took 20 minutes, and I managed to make it to the conference area in plenty of time.

Now I'm sleepy and hungry. Hmmm...what to get for lunch...

Where in the world?

Guess where Laurie is?

How I cried in front of a handsome police officer and now I feel like a fool

I had a goal--go to Target, do laundry, and be home before the stupid Hollywood Christmas Parade started. I had five hours. I had a list. It should have been easy. SHOULD have been...

I needed four things from Target: eye makeup remover, toilet paper, a shower curtain liner, and an electric blanket. Don't laugh! It was cold in my house this weekend and...

(to the tune of "Horse With No Name")

I live in the ghetto in a house with no heat,

it feels good just to warm up your sheets.

In the ghetto, you don't remember a flame

because there ain't no furnace for to give you no flame.

Anyway, I left Target without the shower curtain liner, but with a pretty new lipstick, a heated mattress pad (it was cheaper) and some adorable sheets.

I like the French gnome the best.

Off to do laundry. The manager at the laundromat is super nice and always offers to help me to and from the car with my baskets of clothes. Yesterday, he bought everyone a Snapple. I, in turn, amazed him with my awesome knitting skills as I wielded my double-pointed needles. Then I remembered that I forgot the liner. Arrgh!

Done with laundry, and James and Brian (two obnoxious kids who kept running around calling, "Ma, Ma, Ma...Ma") are still alive. Off to Rite Aid to quickly get a liner and hurry home before the insanity. It was 2:45 and the parade started at 5:00. Who knew they'd start closing streets so soon?

I had to go west for three blocks, then south for three blocks, then east for ten blocks, then north and west again until I found a street without barricades. I finally got to my street and it was packed because of the closures on the east/west streets in our district. Everyone was parked on my street. At this point, I was too warm, frustrated, on the verge of an asthma attack, and I had to pee. The last straw was the parking enforcement car parked in the last viable space on my street. They have a whole parking lot across the street!!!

Cue the handsome parking officer walking to his car like he's going to leave. I got happy! Then he opened the door, took out his radio, and walked back across the street. I got sad. So sad that I started to cry. A lot. And loudly.

He came over and asked if I was okay. I told him, between sobs, that I just wanted to park and I live right there and I have a trunk full of laundry and I can't breathe and I, I...I gave up trying to control my tears. He sweetly patted my shoulder and asked me to smile for him. I tried but I can only imagine how ghastly I looked. Then he told me he would move his car just for me. I thanked him profusely, parked, thanked him again while avoiding eye contact, then hurriedly carted my things inside to die of embarrassment.

Yippee!

For those of your worried about my lack of frequent updates, I now have a laptop and as of November 29th, I should have internets at home. Woo Hoo!!!
I'm so excited I could pee.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Birthday to me!
I ate some turkey.
I watched lots of football,
And now I'm sleepy.

What??

The color doesn't show up but these are totally purple potatoes.

I'm Hit! I'm Hit!

I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, which happens when you pass out on the couch and are too lazy to get up and get into bed, so I poured myself a big mug of coffee to keep me awake during school tonight. I was driving down Sunset Boulevard, feeling good because of two possible jobs (more later) and I thought, "Gee, I hope that coffee doesn't spill. I'd better move it to the floor." [It's one of those wide-bottom non-spill mugs, and my cup holders suck.] No sooner had I moved it to the floor and straightened up when--BAM--I was hit from behind by girl in a white volvo who was clearly annoyed at me for getting in her way.

We pulled over. I got out to exchange insurance information and she stayed in her car looking at me dumbly. "Well get out and give me your insurance info," I said, okay maybe I shouted, but we were in traffic. Still she sat. I looked at the back of my car expecting to see some serious damage from the jolt I received, and much to my surprise there was nothing there but a tiny bit of white paint. I walked over to the girl, who was about 18, and asked if her front light was broken before she hit me. She nodded. That's when I noticed her fumbling desperately trying to find her insurance and shaking like a leaf. I mean, this girl was shaking so badly she couldn't open the envelope with her insurance card in it. I felt so bad for her. I kept seeing my poor niece sitting there while some angry woman hovered over her with death in her eyes. Call me an old softy. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Since there was no damage to either car, my trunk worked, nothing was leaking, and I was fine, I told her to forget it and we wouldn't report it to our insurance companies. There was really nothing to report anyway.

On a good note, I am taking a part-time position tomorrow and I have an interview for a full-time position on Wednesday. Both companies are non-profit and don't pay as well as I would like, but I cannot watch another episode of Maury's Paternity Test Clinic. I need to get out and earn a living, however meager it may be. Plus I can always keep my eyes open for a better paying position.


OH--and the coffee spilled on the floor of my car...that was the whole point here.

My head hurts and this place smells

I don't really have anything to say. I just didn't want to leave you all hanging for days without any news from me. I'm alive. My first unemployment check came. I'm so happy. I also bought an iron and tabletop ironing board, which also made me happy. I'm a simple girl with simple needs.

Seriously, this internet cafe smells like a sewer backed up and flooded the place. I needs me a home computer and some DSL--STAT! (What does STAT mean anyway?). I tried the library today. I got up early and hurried down there just so I could beat the rush of homeless literrati to the free computers only to find each and every computer, save the 15-minute-limit ones, had been booked already. EVERY STINKING ONE! Let's see, seven floors, with at least three computers per floor, plus the actual computer room, which has four or five terminals, means...at least 25 computers were already booked. And the 15 minute ones? Well, I guess I'm not as spry as I used to be because I was denied in three departments. So I waited in the Arts department for tubbby iPod boy to finish up, and while my head was turned, the jerk logged back on for a second session. Arrgh! Okay, take it easy. It's just another 15 minutes. After that I'll politely, but firmly, tell him to move his ass. I waited and waited. A line was forming behind me. The librarian told me that if no one showed up for their booked session within 10 minutes, the reserved computers were up for grabs. But what she didn't tell me, before I got out of line and forfeited my place at the 15-minute computer, was that the Art department reserved computers were not working properly and so even though it was 1:15 and no one was there, I couldn't use one. [this is the part where steam blasts out of my ears and my face turns beet red]. So I went downstairs to wait 20 minutes in line to pay for my overdue books, forgot to validate and had to pay $7.50 to get out of the garage, which would only have cost me a dollar had I validated. Total cost of Library visit: $21. Total productivity? 0

So, here I sit at the Stinkernet Cafe drinking bad coffee, catching up on some blog reading, and looking at some job sites. Oh, and looking at the freaks on Sunset Boulevard, of which there are plenty.

I'll talk to you all later.


PS--Now the freakin' Blogger won't publish this post. For the love of all that is sacred and holy, can't I catch a break today???
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What a girl wants, what a girl needs

How awesome are these?

Close up view:

I picked them up from Annika's Living Room Sale (because she doesn't have a yard).

They are super sharp and will warn possible burglars of the person they're about to burgle.

People unclear on the concept

Not that I condone the practice of using Calvin in such a vile way, but doesn't it defeat the purpose to have the decal of Calvin pissing on Toyota

when you're actually driving a Toyota?

Hmmm

Things that make me go " Arrgh!"

When I got home from my appointment downtown, I promptly ditched the dressy duds and called my sister. As I was gabbing away, I heard a gush of water outside my house. It wasn't raining. Huh? Turns out Frau Piss-me-off hired pressure washers to wash the filthy outside of our house. Naturally, she didn't feel the need to inform the tenants and neither did the pressure washers. My bathroom, sunroom, and kitchen windows were open. Fortunately, the sunroom blinds were down and caught most of the water, but in the bathroom, the water sprayed dirty water and muck all over the wall opposite the window, not to mention the stream that ran down from the sill. I hurried to the kitchen, still on the phone with Katie, and slammed the window shut in the face of the pressure washer dude...forgetting that I had no pants on. Pressure washer dude got a good shot of my fat ass as I walked away. Apparently, he liked what he saw because he kept calling to me, but I was too mortified to go back into the kitchen. The results of their washing excursion was a less dirty house and paint chips all over my porch, mailbox, sidewalk and yard.

Today, the team is back. This time they are scraping old paint (what's left, anyway) off the house in order to paint it. They started at 8:00am. They started on the front of the house right outside my bedroom window. Now, there are even more paint chips on my porch and mailbox.

This is mean. I know it's mean. I'm a mean person. That said, I was walking to the corner mailbox yesterday near school when I saw a man hunkered down next to a wheelchair behind a waist-high wall (by the bank, for my school friends). He appeared to be, um, relieving himself. I must have startled him, even though, as detailed in the Rules For Angelenos handbook, I didn't look directly at him. He lost is balance, which must have been precarious at best given his use of a wheelchair, and landed on his butt. That alone is enough to make me titter, but then I realized that he most likely fell in a pile of poop. Those who know me know what I did next.
I know, I should have helped him up, but remember the poop? and the smell? ew.

Okay, so this doesn't make me go "Arrgh," but it's worth mentioning. Guess who works at my school. Go ahead. Guess. Carla! She's the new English teacher, who I knew was named Carla, but never figured it was our Carla. Isn't that funny? It's a small world after all, it's a small world after all...you can thank me later for having that song stuck in your head. I'm off to class now.

Ah, the joys of Halloween

Spooky!
I have two alarm clocks--one that wakes me gently with a pulsing light, and one that has an obnoxious voice that says, "One of us has to get up and it ain't gonna be me." This morning after hitting the snooze on the gentle alarm clock, I was slowly, gradually waking through a series of dream snippets. Look, it's Seth Green asking me to top off his popcorn bucket and add more butter, but the bucket is full of Nacho Cheese Doritos. Oh, and here's Paris and Nicole asking me to help them with a prank. Very funny, girls. Ah, and look, here's a father looking lovingly at his son while he sleeps, early morning light spilling across the bed. The father sits on the edge of the bed and lightly brushes the hair back revealing a cherubic face, and then he PLUNGES A GIANT KNIFE INTO HIS SON'S SKULL!!!!!

Whoa!! What the f...? I'm awake now!

Silly!

It is once again illegal to possess, use, sell or distribute Silly String in the greater Hollywood area from Midnight today until noon tomorrow.

Eerie
For those of you who have not visited the other Stitch n Bitch blogs, here is the aforementioned Halloween ski mask that I knitted for our party. I'm very proud of it. Now hand over the Candy Corn and no one gets hurt.

Sweet!

I had an appointment downtown today at one of those huge office buildings. It went very well, but we'll see if something comes of it. After my appointment, I went to the lobby to find a whole carnival food extravaganza. Caramel Apples! Cotton Candy! Nachos! Popcorn! All Freeeee!!! Now I totally want a job in this building. (I chose the cotton candy, in case you didn't guess.)

Funny!

What do vampires like on their nachos? Halloweeno peppers

What's a horny vampire's favorite song? Fangs for the mammaries.

Oh, I crack myself up sometimes.

This is what I get for sleeping in...

...a $50 parking ticket for parking on my street between 10am and 1pm on Monday, which is street cleaning day. Dang! Like I need that. But I did get a fun book from the errant Spin Goddess, Sachi, which made me laugh out loud. You take the good, you take the bad, you take the rest and there you have the facts of life...Oh, the hours and brain cells I've wasted in front of a television.

I have a meeting with yet another recruiting agency tomorrow. I'm really trying to be positive, but it's getting difficult. I hope I get a check of some sort soon.

More consumer product testing

As I have stated before, I'm a sucker for gadgets. Remember the Snoopy Sno Cone machine ? My friend had one, and even though you had to work your ass off for a tiny pile of ice, I thought it was the greatest thing ever invented and was suitably jealous.

Then there was the Hot Dog cooker/ electric chair that my aunt gave us for Christmas one year. I can't find a picture of it online but it looked something like this. The hot dog was skewered on the metal spikes (electrodes) and essentially electrocuted. [ I can't get it to link up, but here's what it looked like--Thanks Roy!--http://www.neighborhoodvalues.com/nv/kitchen/misc/35kc.htm ]

Well my friends, I've become victim of yet another useless but clever gadget. It's
Pasta Express ! You've seen this nifty plastic tube that when filled with boiling water cooks your pasta lickety split. Only it doesn't. It takes just as long, if not longer, to cook pasta this way, and the pasta doesn't really cook after all is said and done. How about Hot Dogs? They advertise that you can use it to cook hot dogs too. No, you can't. After boiling the water and waiting the prerequisite 15 minutes (seriously, they would have been done in half the time on the stove), the hot dogs still needed to be nuked for 30 seconds to make them edible. I haven't tried to steam vegetables. Pasta Express, like all other gadgety kitchen items before it, has failed me.

UNCLEAN! UNCLEAN!

Frau Inconsiderate Beyotch is riding my last nerve. All day today some unsavory looking character had been tinkering around the hot water heaters in the back. Frau was with him so I thought nothing of it. I did some dishes and sat to watch more Baby Daddy Drama on Maury, then decided it was time to shower and go to school. And what do you suppose happened when I turned on the shower? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Neither a drop nor a drip.

Fortunately, I have some baby wipes that I normally use for makeup removal (cheaper than fancy products and just as effective), so I gave myself a "road trip bath". Before I left for school, however, I found Frau IB and asked her why she didn't feel it necessary to warn us about the water being turned off. "Oh, I didn't think anyone was home," she replied. I could feel my father's famous retort ("That's right; you didn't think.") welling up, but I didn't go there.
I simply said, "It doesn't matter whether you think we're home or not. You are required to give us ample warning about the water being turned off. If it's an emergency, then you can at least ring some doorbells. There are only seven units and you've been here all day. Had I known earlier that the water would be turned off, I'd have showered in the morning. This is unacceptable." Then my huff arrived and I left in it.

Rats! For some reason the computer lab at school is very popular today. No doubt they've come to point and laugh at the smelly girl on the end. Anyway, I feel guilty now for taking up a computer for non-school related stuff. Well, not so guilty that I'm getting up soon, but still a little guilty. I mean, people are here to actually do some practice and shit. I still have to check out Craigslist and whatnot, and I pay my tuition just like they do. hmmm...what to do...what to do....maybe just a cursory glance through Craigslist and then I'll leave.

What's a Pintacuda?

Is it a dangerous beast?
A dirty word? The original title of that Heart song?

This is a Pintacuda!

And I love it

What are they thinking?

Dear Capitol Records:
It is not even Halloween!

The Jerk who parked behind me last night.

Park up my ass next time!

and he did damage too!

Dent & scratch!

He's pretty dumb, too...

Parked in the wrong district!

...so, I'm callling him out. Veteran indeed.

Landlady found at bottom of stairs. Film at 11:00.

This morning at 8:45am, the landlady called to tell me that the building inspector was coming around today--TODAY--and she has conveniently lost my key for the 15th time. "Could you leave your door open for me?" she asked. Sure, I'm going to leave my door unlocked in the ghetto. I don't care if I am across the street from the police, that's just insane.
And today?? What happened to 24-hour notice? I'm sure he didn't just call her last minute.
So I said to the frau, "Well, I'll be home today, so just ring the bell. My place is a mess, though."
She replied, "Well, you have until 1:00. Clean it up."

And that's what I did. I furiously cleaned my apartment. Now, let me define "mess" for those of you who've never been in my apartment. I'm not saying it looks like a cyclone came through, or that it's in danger of a health code violation, it's just cluttered, and well, messy. And I really needed to vacuum. I have found that it helps to set a timer to 30 minutes and bust a move cleaning one area. In doing that, my kitchen shines like a new dime. My bathroom sparkles and smells outdoor fresh. My bedroom, ah, that's the true work of art. My shoes are lined up by type (sandal, sneaker, dress, etc) and my bed is actually made.
The vacuum didn't want to cooperate, however. My hair got tangled in the brush (the fallen hairs, not the ones actively growing from my head) and burned filling the place with a god-awful smell. I untangled the hair, finished vacuuming, and showered.

I was just finishing up the mascara when the doorbell rang. Frau Pain-in-the-arse came upstairs with the inspector and spent about 2.5 minutes looking around my living room. She pointed out the kitchen, the bathroom and the bedroom, but he didn't go in any of them. He just nodded and said, "Looks good," and left. ARRRGHHH!!! I busted my hump to get this place spotless and that's it!?!?!? So, then Frau PITA said to me, "You need to make me another key."
Why? So you can lose it like the first 15? And I'm not exaggerating, either. Well, maybe a little, but I've made at least 8 keys for her, not including the ones that I'd already had made for family. She's lucky my legs are still hurting so I'm moving slower. Otherwise she'd have been tumbling down the stairs faster than she could say auf weidersehen.

Dear Powers That Be

Dear Powers That Be:
I'm bored. My life doesn't have enough stress, enough agony. My only crises of late have been dropped stitches. What can you do for me?
Sincerely,
Silly Me

Dear Silly:
How about we have your oil pressure light start blinking and emitting a piercing alarm when you're four levels deep in a parking garage, on the one day you're wearing a skirt and pumps, and just for kicks, five blocks away from the nearest store that might sell automotive supplies?
Love ya, mean it;
PTB

Yep, that's how I spent my day. And word to the wise--check the manual before buying oil because you will inevitably end up with the wrong viscosity grade and have to walk back down to Broadway and 5th to exchange the 10w-30 for the 5w-30, even though you don't know the difference. Let me tell you folks, that hill up 5th to the library is not for the out of shape.

Once the car was okay, I attempted once again to get a computer at the library. This time I actually went on the library site and reserved a computer--good ole Soc 2 on lower level three. I reserved it from 3:00 to 4:00. I waited patiently. However, the hermit crab already using it was not budging. Now, sure, I could have been little miss bossy (who? me??) but it's the library and you have to be quiet. It's hard to muster a fuss when you're whispering. Plus, I'd had it! My poor, fat legs were wobbly from lugging my cookies up and down 5th Street and I decided to just call it a day. I can always get to school early and hop on one of those computers (which is exactly where I am now). And truth be told, the skirt I was wearing was wool and ITCHY!!! Oh My God, I could not wait to get out of it. Whoever heard of not lining a wool skirt? Well, apparently, those purveyors of fine apparel at Wal-mart.

Confidential to my knittas: I'm only up to the mouth of my Halloween mask and already it's giving me nightmares. Yikes!

Hooray for Miss Kendra!

She's responsible for the new look which is either here now or will be coming soon.
I hope you like it.

Library internet sucks

I need to get online at home. Seven floors in this library with free computers on each floor and each and every one is in use. I finally shamed someone into getting off this one. Damn literate homeless people.

Love you all...miss you. I'm going home to knit now.
and eat bon bons. And watch the soaps.

It's my last day...(uncontrollable sobbing ensues)

I don't have internet at home, so I'll only be able to blog from school for now, unless of course I spend the next few weeks at an internet cafe applying for jobs and drinking gallons of coffee.

Anywho, be patient with my lack of updates.

Here's a gratuitous puppy picture to make this post less sad. Yeah Puppy!!!

That's Zoe, my sister's dog. Isn't she adorable?

One down, many, many more to go

I went to my first of many interviews yesterday. It was a strange experience. I haven't been to an interview since I was hired here ten years ago. I wore dressy shoes and my toes were pinched. Owwweee! I guess I need to find more comfortable shoes if I'm going to be hitting the pavement.

Sorry if my posts are sad and kind of depressing. It's hard to stay upbeat when I'm surrounded by people who have worked here for 30 years. What do you put on a resume when you've had the same job for most of your adult life? They don't know any other kind of work.

To Monkey Gurrrrl and anyone else wanting to catch a bargain, keep your eyes open. Right now the discount is only 10%, but if sales slow down (and they already have) discounts will get deeper. I'd say, "I'll keep you informed," but I may not be here past tomorrow.

Here's a message from a neighbor that made us happy and sad at the same time:

How I spent my Saturday

It's official

My company, which has been in Bancruptcy for a few months now, is officially liquidating. I will very soon be out of a job.

But don't cry for me, Argentina. I'll be fine. I just wanted to share this with you because, as I have limited internet access outside of work, I may not be very bloggy for a while, unless my severence package is huge and I decide to buy a computer and get internet at home.

Think good thoughts for me in the job market. And think good thoughts for my co-workers who may not have anything lined up yet.

[Heavy sigh] It's a sad day for us here. It's a sad day for Iconic Record Retailer (name changed to protect me).

Six Quirks (only six?)

Sachi tagged me to list six of my quirks. Hmmm...here we go.

1. I'm afraid of the dark. Oh, I soldier on and put on a brave face, but true darkness, the pitch black kind where you can't see your hand in front of your face, leaves me practically catatonic. I have a very active imagination. When I was little, the upstairs of our house was configured that my parents bedroom door and my brother's bedroom door were directly across from each other. My evil older brothers would unscrew the hall light so that it didn't come on when I flipped the switch downstairs. I pleaded with my dad to "walk me upstairs," but he always responded with those haunting words, "Go on! Nothing's going to get you." Oh yeah? My evil brothers hid in the dark doorways, and as I passed by, they'd jump out and grab me, causing me to a) wet my pants; and b) get yelled at by my father for screaming and wetting my pants. Mean boys!!!
2. I have an unnatural fear of demons. Demons? Seriously? Yes, demons and all their supernatural friends. I know their existence is suspect at best, but still. This fear can be traced back to an accidental viewing of Satan's School for Girls (the 1973 version) when I was young. And did anyone else read Ghost Story? I worked in a theatre back home and we entered and exited through one of the auditoriums. The only light in that auditorium when the place was closed was a single spot light. Sometimes the projectionist forgot to turn on the light and we were expected to walk out in the dark. Sometimes Laurie Ann ran like a bat out of hell out of that theatre screaming in her head.
3. I am obsessed with pens. I have been on a lifelong quest to find the perfect pen. A fine line, no gloppiness, a smooth glide, fountain pen quality without the fountain pen maintenance--the perfect pen. And so, along the way I have spent far too much money on pens, partly because of this, and partly because...
4. I have no will power against the Bright, Shiny Objects. And they need not necessarily be bright or shiny...just neato. Gadgets, gizmos, thingamajigs--if they are novel or cute, I'm the consumer they're targeting. I will spend my last dime on something, no matter how useless, based on it's cuteness alone. Which leads to...
5. I buy eye shadows, lipsticks, and nail polishes aplenty regardless of the fact that I hardly wear any makeup, and my nails are stubby. I also buy hair accoutrements, which is more practical because of the long hair, but hardly use them because I'm lazy and don't feel like doing my hair most days.
6. When my sister was younger, she had kidney issues and couldn't eat acidic foods, so Mom made her spaghetti without the sauce. Being the little sister, I naturally copied her and had to have my spaghetti without sauce too. And do you know what? I actually prefer it that way. Sure, I enjoy a good marinara or Alfredo, but for the most part, I just want a bit of butter and some salt on my noodles. So, my last quirk is I eat pasta plain.

That's it, folks, your tiny glimpse inside the mind of Laurie Ann.

Cue Chicken Little

This is never a good thing to find on your place of employment.

Where have I been?

Sleeping. Oh, and winning the Fuckling contest. Oh yeah! You will have to peruse Uccellina's blog to see the entries because I immediately deleted the photos from my computer, being as it's the work computer and all.

But the sleeping...Holy Toledo! I am beginning to think there's something wrong with me. I can understand being sleepy on Saturday, what with being out way past my bedtime to celebrate Miss Kendra's birthday and all. I had a friend over Saturday and, quite frankly, could not stay awake long enough to be a good hostess. My eyes kept doing that rolling-back-in-your-head thing, which I tried to hide by keeping my head down intent on knitting. She left at 4:30 and I promptly crawled into bed and slept until 7:30. I woke up, ate dinner, watched TV and was back in bed by 11:30.

Sunday, I woke and slept off and on until 10:30, before getting up and showering. I gathered laundry, got dressed to go, and well, fell asleep. I tried to get up and get moving many times throughout the day, but my limbs were weak and I was just really, really sleepy. At 4:00, I gave up and put my lounging around clothes on. And again, I was ready to sleep for the night by 11:30.

Yesterday, I took the day off to go take a test for a possible something something, did the now shockingly large pile of laundry, and came home by 1:15--and promptly fell asleep. Woke briefly when a friend called, but then slept soundly until 6:30. Naturally all of that sleep finally caught up to me and I could NOT sleep last night for nothing. Damn.

So what's wrong with me? Mono? Cursed by a fairy godmother? Narcolepsy? Ennui? I don't know. I'm awake and productive today, but it took some effort, folks.

I feel like a winner

I submitted my fuckling entry today and I'm feeling pretty good about it. It was certainly well-received by the folks around here. I noticed, however, that entries may be coming in from all across the nation, so I'm am nervous about that. There are a lot of talented people out there, not to mention the ladies and gentlemen of our local Stitch'n'Bitch. I've done my best. That's all I can do.

I also mastered, sort of, HTML code and updated several company web pages. Woo Hoo! Who says you can't teach an old broad new tricks? It was deceptively simple--monotonous, but simple.

Unfortunately, I didn't get the boss's checklists updated, nor did I make posters for next week. I guess I'll be in early tomorrow. Pooh! I'm leaving early tomorrow to shop for something to wear to Kendra's birthday celebration, although officially I'm leaving early for an "appointment."
[Fans of the Comics Curmudgeon will be interested to know I'm doing my best finger-quoting Margo impression as I type this.]

I'm off to bake a potato and possibly knit--at work--'cause that's how I roll.

A successful waste of time

I have spent pretty much all day changing the template here. I went to a website that let me create a template. I went through all the steps, add a kick-ass graphic, selected colors that I liked and when all was said and done, it was just too boring.

Having no knowledge of HTML, I went back to the Blogger pre-set templates, and just copied and pasted the information I wanted to customize, such as my blogroll and links. The problem, as you can see, is the size of the blogroll. I can't figure out how to get the font smaller. Oh, maybe...a thought just occurred to be. I'll try it when I'm done here, so if the blogroll looks the same as the rest of the sidebar, you'll know I was successful. I also need to change the font color of the footer so you can actually see it.

My other problem is that I have no idea how to add the kick-ass graphic, except to put it in my profile. However, I just put Sheep In The Big City there and I don't want to change it just yet. Plus I think the profile picture is too small to do it justice. Again, we'll see.

If anyone out there is familiar with these things and can help me customize this puppy, give me a holler.

Two years and $3000 away

Being suitably jealous that Kendra has a new kitty, I think I have found a solution. A company called Allerica is in the process of developing an allergen-free cat . It will only cost about $3000, but as they won't be available until 2008, I have time to save my pennies. Anyone want to donate to the "Laurie Ann needs a kitten" fund?

Gratuitous cute kitty pictures available here.

I live there. I will park as long as I want.

I showered late last night so that I wouldn't have to get up too early this morning. I tend to putz in the mornings and that putzing, along with my short attention span, leads to my scrambling to get to work on time. So, today I was refreshed, relaxed, and on time when I left the house.

It was a little chilly this morning (East Coast and Midwest readers: do not laugh) and the back window was foggy. I turned on the car and the rear-window defogger, and of course, the radio.
I was bopping along to a great song and applying lipstick when I heard "beep beep." I turn to see some woman with crazy hair asking me if I'm going to be pulling out soon, with a "this-is-no-place-to-put-your-makeup-on" look. I live here. I pay my $12 a year for a parking permit. I will sit in my car and read War and Peace if I feel like it and no bedheaded beeyotch is going to intimidate me. However, it was time to leave, so I go to pull out of the spot and Crazy Head is still sitting right next to my car giving me the hairy eyeball. Well, Lady, I'd love to give you this parking spot, but you have to BACK THE FUCK UP so I can get OUT of the spot first. (see diagram--that's me in the green car)

I gave her the stink eye and she backed up. Now, I had to do a K-turn, which really pissed off Crazy Head royally. Dang, woman, if you're in such a hurry, then spring for the paid parking up the street.

Damn you, Troll

A while ago, while on the phone with Troll (You know Troll. You met him back here.) and he started singing The Chicken Dance while searching for something. I said, "Oh Great! Now I have The Chicken Dance in my head." He laughed maniacally, as he is wont to do. From that point on, at the end of every email, he would write, "PS. Chicken Dance," or "na na na na na na na." The effect had worn thin, and I told him so. He eventually stopped the reference.

Today, I received a package from Troll's store through interoffice mail. This is what it was:

Bastard!

I hear the sirens call

Damn you, Fall Line Up! I need Tivo, but in order to have that I need cable. Direct TV has been wooing me with their offers of SundayNFL Ticket, but I can't have a dish at my place. Now, I'm pretty adept at setting the VCR and I can tape like a fiend, but I'll be missing either the last two minutes of one show or the first two minutes of the next. And what about when two shows are on at the same time on different networks? I only have one TV and one VCR!! Crap! When did I become a TV addict. Sure, I had my shows, but I was never overly concerned if I missed a few episodes (except Gilmore Girls, or Buffy and Angel back in the day) When did it become so all-important for me to see every show? Oh, when the shows started looking good...and when the WB and UPN combined. Damn it!

Idiot

Yesterday, the driver of a 7-Up truck tried to make the corner by my place of employment and cut it too tight. He ran up onto the curb, with the trailer of his truck wedged up against the lamp post, and his middle tires completely off the ground. I was in a hurry to get to school so I didn't snap a picture, but enjoy this artist's rendering. The yellow and red thing is my place of employment. The truck stayed in this position most of the day and well into the evening.

I just wanted to share something that made me smile. While I'm not quite as accomplished a food photographer as our own Ellen Bloom, is this not the cutest cake ever? It's a burger! It's a cake! (my sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter) Forget it, Jake, it's...well, it was Ralphs, and not even near Chinatown. Dang.

Regrets--I've had a few

Giddy with the thought of payday and actually being able to buy lunch, I set my sights on Koo Koo Roo. Yummy delicious Turkey Pot Pie and sides that deserve their own star on the Walk of Fame. But what sides should I order? The mac and cheese is always a good choice, but so is the creamed spinach. Wait, what about the recent spinach scare. Should I avoid the spinach? Heck, this stuff is processed and pre-packaged long before this recent batch of bad greens came to light. Ohhhh, whipped squash! And red potatoes, oh how I loved their potatoes.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that I ate too much food and am now a very uncomfortable girl. (although I shared the potatoes and 86'd the squash). Sigh.

I am hearby declaring that I am rejoining Weight Watchers tomorrow. Feel free to rip bad food out of my hands like that time Fred Flintstone joined a WW type diet organization.

Is it only Thursday?

Prison Counsellor: Why do you say you feel "trapped" in a man's body.

"Trapped" Convict: Well, sometimes I get them menstrual cramps real hard.

Me too, Trapped Convict. Me too.

More conference calls
More notes to type up
More starts and stalls
No more coffee in my cup

This has been the longest week in my life, I swear. I feel like it should be October already the way it's been lingering. And I still have one more day to suffer through before I can bid this week adieu.

No water in the cooler
Another cockroach in the sink
Being stared at by a drooler
Dear Lord, I need a drink.

My office window is tinted, so that I can see out by the outside just looks reflective. This invites many a person to stop, brush their hair, suck in their gut and see how that looks, pick their zits, or in the case of the homeless woman currently in front of my window--drool.

Kooky needs a smack down
Chicken Little's all agog
The drooler's in a night gown
Aren't you glad I have a blog?

Rockstar Super-piece-of-crap

Seriously? Lukas??
Joe Escalante called him "Chaka" this morning, right before he played "Disproportionate Head" in his honor.

I'm disappointed.

Well, my day sucked

Cramps. Endless conference calls and speculation about the company. No lunch.

How about your day? Pour yourself a virtual cocktail and tell me all about it. I'd love to hear that it's not just me.

Apply directly to the forehead

I have a headache. It could be sinus. It could be allergies. It could be from the stupid handsfree headset I wore for three hours worth of conference calls today. The previous administrative assistant bought it for the office and as near as I can tell, she must have had ears like Prince Charles. That, or my ears are just close to my head, which, given all the years I've been tucking my hair behind them and what my mother always said would result from such action, isn't likely. It was painful. Come to think of it...it's probably allergies.

On my way to work this morning, I was listening to a Peter Gabriel CD and the song "Biko" came on. It reminded me of my nephew Roy. In 1994, when Roy was 12, I took him to see Peter Gabriel at the Stabler Arena in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. It was a great show. Peter ended with "Biko" and the fade out (oh oh ohhhhh) was an audience participation kind of thing. When the CD got to that part, I remembered the look on Roy's face--the exhilaration, singing along, fist in the air--and how much I love that kid, er, man. I was filled with this overwhelming sense of love and I missed him so much in that moment. And I'm sorry if I embarrass you, Roy, but I do love you and miss you, and it was such a thrill to watch you grow and learn and become the man you are today. Coincidentally, Roy ended up attending Lehigh University, the campus on which Stabler Arena is located.

On my way to school today, the CD changed over and I was listening to Crash Test Dummies. This then made me think of my brother Roy, the father of the nephew of the same name, because that song "MMM MMM MMM" drove him nuts. Every time it came on he'd rant about what a dumb song it was, but you know he knew every word.

It struck me how two vastly different pieces of music reminded me of my family and made me so homesick. When I loaded the disc changer last week, I didn't give much thought to the selections. I chose randomly from CDs I hadn't heard in a while and songs I can sing along to as I drive. The other four CDs haven't brought such nostalgia--although the Barry Manilow CD (don't you dare judge me) reminded me of 7th Grade. I need to go home to see my family. I need to see fall colors and hug my mommy and daddy. And I need to see the Roys and Michaels (another brother/ nephew combination).

Well, the boss was just hounding me about taking some vacation before I'm maxed out. Hmmm...

I know, they're just commercials

Before you say anything, I understand that they're commercials, and animation at that, but I find the Air Wick commercials disturbing. How on earth could an elephant be married to a centipede? Or an octopus and a walrus? And the latter couple had a baby. We know the baby has tenticles, but does it also have tusks and whiskers? What kind of ugly ass child is that?

Yes, I have given way too much thought to this subject. I do that sometimes.

On an unrelated note, I googled "jackolantern" with no spaces and was presented with the image of some guy's full frontal. Not sure of the connection.

The girl just invites smacking

There's a gal here (we'll call her Kooky McNutjob) who, while seemingly together, is a study in strangeness. She seems to eat healthily, and yet uses artificial sweeteners in her coffee. She is sloppy in her timeclock habits, but will blow a gasket if she's short an hour (are we supposed to just sense that she worked?) She seems to be a tidy person, overly concerned with shelving and drawers for things, yet she will think nothing of leaving her spilled food all over the toaster oven (which she uses instead of a microwave because of health concerns), and her work space is a mess. Some days I just can't take it and explode on her barely stopping before my hand reaches out to smack her upside the head. Yet other days, I simply shake my head in amusement. Today was the latter.

We went to lunch, a large group of us, to a fancy restaurant which Bossman frequents. I love this restaurant too, as they make an awesome Fish & Chips with sweet potato fries. After our meal, the owner of the restaurant came over to offer us desserts on the house. He does this because we eat here at least once a week and we, the boss and I, usually politely refuse. Kooky McNutjob jumps in with "YES!" before the offer is even off the owners lips. "Something chocolatey," she says. Our server shows us a list of desserts and Kooky immediately wants the brownie sundae. Yum. I agree. We also ordered a pineapple-carrot upside cake, a german chocolate cake, and a blueberry cobbler. George brings the desserts out in a trough, not even kidding, and we all grab our spoons to dig in--except Kooky. "Just dig in, Kook," I say.

"Oh, I don't eat sugar," she replies. "I just want to live vicariously through all of you."

Now, the only reason we even ordered the desserts was because she immediately answered when George made the offer. Bossman would have politely refused and thanked him for the service we receive had she not opened her big, non-sugar-ingesting mouth. While she deserved a smack, I just shook my head and laughed because, well, we were in public, and it was kind of amusing.

My last tether of sanity is leaving.

What do you mean, "what tether?" I have tethers.

There are four men who work in the store next to my office. One, we'll call him Shoeless Joe, is leaving in a week to go on location in Morocco (lucky bastard) to film The Hills Have Eyes 2. I'll miss him. He makes me laugh. The second, we'll call him Potential-Rifle-Toting-Mass-Murderer, has just given his two-week notice. Number Three, we'll call him Annoying McFriendly, says "hey, how you doing" to me every time he sees me, which would be okay if he didn't see me 15 times a day. Also, it's not an upbeat greeting; it's more the way you would greet someone you're visiting in the hospital or who has just lost a loved one--somber and concerned. The last guy, we'll call him Gaylien (draw your own conclusions), is just tolerable. He drops these non-sequitars designed to be funny, but they are NOT funny. Believe me, I know funny.

Those of you who know me will not be surprised when I say that PRTMM is my favorite. He doesn't speak much, but will glance askew with a bemused grin and a cocked eyebrow at the others when they say something stupid. For this, I adore him. But he's leaving me and I'll be stuck with Downer Boy and Not Funny. Do you know how hard it is to carry on a conversation with these guys? Even a simply work-related conversation is an exercise in futility.

I'll miss you, PRTMM, you crazy bastard.

A Day at The Races

Thursday was our annual trip to Del Mar for some fun in the sun where the "turf meets the surf," as Bing said.

There was some swearing and drinking and betting and no one got hurt--well, almost no one. It started on the train down. First, Rick, our resident poet, got things rolling with his "Ode To Del Mar," a poem he writes each year to inspire the trip. Someone, I won't mention any names (Greg), brought pre-mixed Jack & Coke. I tried to be good. Really. I brought some knitting. I was planning to avoid the alcohol until I got to the track. But I got bored. All the fun people were sitting a few seats ahead of me. I went to talk to Chris and Troll, and well, it was all downhill from there.

That's Chris in the hat, and Troll in the glasses. (and Scott doing the Gene Simmons imitation) You can see where I went wrong. Someone had to taste their drinks to assure they weren't being poisoned, right? And those drinks kicked like a mule. Damn, Greg.

After two Del Margaritas (seriously, they made them stronger this year) and a Kamikaze from Jamie (Thanks a lot), I was somewhat impaired. I had a HUGE hot dog with bun-o-plenty to try to soak up the alcohol and fries out the wazoo. It helped a little, but then I kept drinking.

I bet and won and bet and won on the same $20 all day. It's not really about the horse races, you know. One of the highlights was when the guys took over the Information booth and actually gave information to passersby. Also, I heard the best joke:

A pirate walks into a bar with a steering wheel attached to his crotch. The bartender says, "hey, you have a steering wheel coming out of your crotch." The pirate replies, "Arrr, it's driving me nuts."

The train home is always the best part. First, it's packed because this is pretty much the last train to Clarksville. Well, there is one at 9:00, but after the races are over, what are you going to do until 9:00? Second, all the daytrippers and commuters from San Diego are already on the train when it gets to Solana Beach. What do we do? We bum-rush the cars knocking the slow and weak aside. Half of the group goes to the front to commandeer the first semi-empty car they see. The other half rushes the cafe car and wipes out the beer cooler. Here I must give props to one Becky from West Covina. Becky shamelessly used the "Oh, please let me ahead of you. I left my daughter alone at our seats and I have to get back to her," ploy to get to the front of the line where she then secured $110 worth of beer, as well as the scornful looks of everyone who now thinks she's a bad mother (and a drunk). No, Becky's daughter was not with us. The five of us who got the beer now had to do the old Bugs Bunny "pardon me, 'scuse me" all the way back to the seats. Kevin, a rookie, asked "When do we stop?" I told him, "When the people start to look familiar, stop."

Those poor people who got stuck sharing a train car with our group. There was singing, including the much-loved Neil Diamond sing-a-long featuring Steve "Don't call me Maurice" Miller on vocals. There was drinking. There was swearing. There was political arguments with some fellas who just wanted to get home (and who subsequently missed their stop because one of them was deep in discussion with Chris). And boobs were exposed.

The day was capped off with dinner at El Compadre (near Dodger's Stadium, not the one on Sunset). And someone (me) stole a glass. It was for Troll, I swear.

Rockstar Super-what-the-hell

Holy Crap! Ryan Starr got the ax!

Benedict would be right there with me

What's this? Why, it's the fax imaging film that fell off its core and rolled across the floor while I was trying to replace it, answer the phone and listen to the bossman at the same time. It's enough to piss off the Pope, I tell ya. And do you know what? The film is just taped onto the cardboard core in the first place. Yep, just good ol' transparent tape. Cheap piece of...!
Without thinking I actually started saying, "MOTHER...!" I think I got MOTH out of my mouth before I checked myself and silently cursed Xerox for its shoddy materials.
Then, as I was trying to roll it neatly back onto the core so as not to adversely effect its performance, the phone rang and I had to hold it in my lap while I jotted down a call tag number for some other piece of faulty equipment.
Some days it just doesn't pay to multitask.