Hours of fun (or at least a few minutes of diversion)

Two posts in one day? I'm drunk with boredom.

My daddy sent me this link. Move your cursor over and around the kitty to see what he does. (speakers are necessary)

Enjoy your weekend. I need to remove my sinuses now. They hurt too much

Inspired to be creative

I ventured out to SnB for the first time last night. I had fun and now I'm inspired to be all creative and shit. Now, if I can just find the time for all these creative juices to flow, instead of having to keep them stoppered until the weekends. Because how cute are these? Peeps are my favorite part of Easter, especially when they're stale. Love me some marshmallow peeps.

For anyone in the know following the pathetic saga of me being a chump for the German guy...he called me last night. He's back in town. For two weeks now I've been working up my nerve to tell him how used it made me feel and how, while I have no problem doing him favors, I thought it was kind of insensitive to ask me to help out his girlfriend.
So he said, "Thanks for those tickets, by the way". And what did I say? "No problem". NO PROBLEM??? I've been stewing about this since March 12th and I say "no problem"? I am turning in my cool card now. I don't deserve your admiration. I'm a loser. I'm going to hang my head in shame now.

My head is a Macy's parade balloon

I have so much sinus pressure built up that my head feels floaty. It's a good thing I'm sans boss again today. Despite the insane pain in my membrane, I did manage to get a buttload of work done, so I'm in good shape for the boss's return and the inevitable crap he'll be piling on my desk. Ho hum ('cause she doesn't know the words--hee hee).

My friend Dawn sent me this today and I played it about a gazilion times, because who hasn't tried to hit that high note. I'm saving it for a day when the men folk are really riding my last nerve.

Also, you should check this out and all the others, because it's some darn funny stuff and who doesn't like bunnies?

I have to put make up on now, lest I frighten people when I venture out in public.

Boss-free since 9:03

The boss didn't come in today, and he'll not be in tomorrow either. I caught up on my blog reading, ran the Top Ten reports, logged vacations, and now, I am waiting for Mr. Man's emails to move, as if by magic, from his Inbox to a new folder. I'm such a good secretary .
I think I've earned a round or two of RSVP . Feel free to try a round yourself. You've earned it too.

Rainy days and Tuesdays always get me down

Actually, rainy days remind me of three songs: Maggie May, Nights In White Satin (and its companion Late Lament, which is always tacked on but technically a separate song) , and Funeral For A Friend. Back in my youth, these were the songs I always heard on the rock station on rainy days. On the way in to work this morning, I was listening to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, so no I just need Rod Stewart and The Moody Blues (which I'm singing in my head anyway). I want to be home in bed, nursing this sinus headache, and sipping lovely tea.
But alas, I have too much to do this week, and the boss expects me to get a boatload done by next Tuesday. HA! Like that's gonna happen.

At least I'm not the raging bitch I was yesterday. Boy Howdy, I was mean. The mood today?

so sleepy

a little weepy

daydreaming deeply

(ew) co-worker in short shorts--that's creepy

Poetry was never my strong suit. Deal with it.

Oh, the boy next door, you know, the guy with the active sex life, bought himself an electric guitar and is learning how to play (so he wants to be a rock & roll star). It's not going well. I suddenly have sympathy for my old neighbors when I was learning violin. Although, they were jerks anyway, so maybe not. Also, his new puppy was yapping like a fool last night while I was trying to watch some quality television (don't ask). I wanted to play with him, since the boy left puppy home alone. I'm thinking of cutting a gnome door between our apartments so I can play sneak in for some puppy time.

Cramps suck.

Warning: I'm menstruating

I feel like I should be wearing a sign around my neck to warn people. Just a little hint, like "Think before you approach this woman. Consequences could be fatal". You see, I have no patience today for helplessness, ignorance, misdirected anger, indecision at a yellow light, maintenance men staring at my boobs, and so much more. If it weren't Monday and if I didn't have a ton to do, I would have stayed home. Oprah had that number one killer episode and I really could have worked out some of this rage by cleaning my apartment. Instead, I'm stuck here with Crankypants barking at me because the phone number he had was wrong (yes, that's right Mr. Man, I purposely changed the number to piss you off). I feel a sick day coming on...

And because I'm not irritated enough, the gnomes or whatever that live in my ceiling have now disconnected the alcove light fixture too. Now I have no light for my staircase. I guess it's time to call Frau Fix-it-herself (aka my landlady). I hate when she comes into my apartment. She smells like old lady and leaves this lingering powdery, flowery fragrance that gives me asthma attacks. And she's nosey. Seriously nosey. She once insisted I was hiding a second bathroom in my closet and would not leave until I opened the closet door to show her, at which point she poked around in my clothes to "make sure I'm not lying". I've taken to locking my bedroom door when she has to come in and I'm not home.

Oh, and speaking of irritating, everywhere I went yesterday I was detoured due to filming. Freakin' Hollywood! Can't they film in Boise for a while? It's not bad enough that every street downtown is One Way (okay, not EVERY street), but do they have to block off the lane I need to be in forcing me to go blocks out of my way, when I really only know, like, two ways in and out of the downtown area. Don't do that to me, people. Although, I did get to see some wildly tacky bridesmaids dresses at some shotgun wedding chapel on Broadway ("Here comes the bride, big, fat and wide")

I'm going home to down some mood elevators...or wine...or whiskey, since it's already open.

Vincent Gallo is one strange mofo

I was never on the "Vincent Gallo is a genius" bandwagon. I was bored silly during Buffalo 66 and all I got out of it was that Christina Ricci should not have been wearing that Baby Doll nightie thing. He always looks dirty, in an unwashed sort of way, not a porn mag way, and he makes me feel dirty just by looking at him. And, he reminds me of this guy who got fired from work, who made you feel uncomfortable just being in the same room with him.
However, having worked in a movie theatre for years, many people have gone to great lengths to convince me that I just didn't get him. (Implying, of course, that I'm somehow beneath their superior appreciation of film and should stick to the baser fare, such as Joe Dirt and the previously mentioned Deuce Bigalow)

To all of you, I offer this as proof that I am right and you are wrong. Go to the miscellaneous tab and guess what I want for Christmas.

I need an accountant

I am, or will be when my school gets around to cashing my check for parking, negative $16.72 in my checking account. "How can this be?", you ask. "She seems so smart and responsible". I took remedial math, people. In third grade, on a multiplication test, I actually wrote 3 x 3= chow chow chow. (Purina Cat Chow had this infectious commercial back in those days...circa 1973) Well, I thought it was funny, but Sister Cornelius failed to see the humor. Of course, she also didn't think it was funny when Joanne Reeser and I pulled Danny Pesta's chair out so that he fell flat on his ass when he went to sit down, but I digress.

The problem this time is a DVD I bought for my mother from the local TV station. Okay, don't judge...it was a DVD of the Rose Parade. Mom loves her some Rose Parade and they don't show the whole thing on the East Coast. First of all, the DVD arrived long before they charged my checking account. I thought, "oh, I must have charged it to my Mastercard instead", because I tend to forget these things, and added the charge back in. Then, 13 days later, a Pope John Paul II DVD shows up on my statement. I gasped, "Someone has charged fraudulently on my debit card!!! And they're Catholic too!". Then, two days after that, I was issued a credit for the JP2 DVD, but not before the SuperBank charged me an hefty NSF fee, which they won't refund me. I should also interject at this point that the charge and subsequent credit for the JP2 DVD was $3 more than I was quoted by oh-so-knowledgable telephone order girl when purchasing the Rose Parade DVD in the first place, hence adding to my confusion.
Like a good girl, I subtracted and added and subtracted all these things from my account. Then, four days later, they charged my account again, this time for the Rose Parade DVD, resulting in another NSF fee. This damn DVD has cost me $100. I could have had ringside seats and taped it myself for that kind of money. And according to the self-righteous customer service rep at SuperBank, I' m suppose to know that I charged things to my check card and subtract them from the balance (she actually gave me a lesson in balancing a checkbook). I told her that I did subtract it from the balance but was it too much to ask that the charge show up before the DVD (which took three weeks to arrive, mind you)? Was I wrong to assume that I had made a mistake when the DVD arrived and my account showed no signs of purchase? The answer, according to SRCSR, is yes.
So, I'm crossing my fingers that the school doesn't cash my parking check before the next payday. Murphy's Law being what it is, this will be the one month they actually cash the checks early. At least I paid my some bills this week. Dang!

On that note, I'm off to school.

Weekend update: Or Why are all these cops in front of my house?

Good Monday to all! The boss left at Noon (and not a minute too soon, as far as I'm concerned), so I've been enjoying positive humor today.

Saturday: I had been talking to my mother on the phone and I walked outside to see every police officer in Los Angeles standing across the street. ( I may be exaggerating) My street was blocked off at both ends. How am I supposed to get out??? I sweetly (yes, I can be sweet sometimes) asked the nearest officer, and it turns out they were turned out for the Anti-war protest on Hollywood Boulevard. I live six blocks from Hollywood and Vine, so why was my street blocked? Needless to say I was irritated. Fortunately, one of my neighbors moved a barrier so we could get out on the lower end of the street.

Safely on the road with my indecisive "check engine" light, I headed to Pasadena to get Tami and shop for craft supplies. Michaels, Unwind, Jo Ann fabrics...we hit 'em all. Suddenly, I was inspired. A hat, a blanket, a handbag, a tank top...the projects came at me faster than I could say "but do I have a needle for that?" My spring break will be filled with yarn, and needles and Tina, I'll finally be able to fix your green necklace. Yeah! All that driving made me tired, though, so I napped. Then I was wide awake at 4am; and let me tell you, without cable, TV sucks at that hour. I slept fitfully before finally giving up and getting in the shower. On my way to the shower, the cool yarn I got on sale at Unwind was taunting me, so I sat down and knitted a gauge swatch. Then, my attention was drawn to a sock pattern on the coffee table. I looked to see if I had the right needles for that, and my attention was drawn to the measuring tape I thought I had lost but there it was with my needles. And then my attention....can you say ADD? Seriously, I could not focus on one thing for more than five minutes. What is wrong with me?

Sunday: It's Laundry Day! (cue Jason Mraz) My laundromat is on Santa Monica Blvd, and there are always a bevy of boy hookers out front. Yesterday was no exception. You know that scene from Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo where he says "Hi I'm Deuce Big..est lady I've ever seen!!" [I DID NOT see that movie, but that scene was in the commercial]? Well, she was at 7-11 wearing a fetching strapless number (why). I'd have taken her picture but those boy ho's stick together and they scare me. Anywho, she wasn't the only freak. I saw a woman eating this. (see photo) You can't really tell, but that's a can of frozen juice concentrate--Cranberry. Yep, she was just eating it like it was an Italian Ice or something. Now I've been known to eat some strange food combinations (someday I'll tell you all about Lazy Man's Pie), but I keep it in the privacy of my own kitchen. I don't flaunt the Ewww factor.

Someone please explain the masked wrestlers to me. That's what was on TV and I just don't get it. Although, they unmasked the wrestler and he was HOT, and tattooed--just the way I like 'em. (but blond, so you can keep him)

Two more things before I go:
1) how sweet are these Chucks? Tami hates them , of course, which made me buy them. They were only $20!! You can't tell, but they are velour, with magenta satin lining. They come in Teal with lime green accents too. Hurry to the Famous Shoe warehouse on Glendale Avenue! (like my IKEA rug? I'm walking on water)

2) look at this sign. Doesn't this imply that the last piece is being used by more than one person? How many people use it before the last one? How is the last person determined? hmmm...

Top O' The Morning To Ye

As promised, Here's some fine Irish humor for you. Feel free to share them with your fellow revelers at the local watering hole this evening while you indulge in some delicious Irish Whiskey or a hearty Guinness Stout.

Irish sayings:

Pity the sober. They wake up in the morning knowing that's the best they're going to feel all day.

Here's to a wet night and a dry morning.

And the jokes:

Paddy was driving down the street desperately looking for a parking space. Looking up to Heaven he said, "Lord, take pity on me. If you find me a parking space, I'll go to mass every Sunday and give up me whiskey". Miraculously, a space opened up. Paddy looked Heavenward again and said, "Nevermind, Lord. I found one".

An Irishman takes a seat at a bar in New York City and orders a shot of Jameson. A fellow patron a few stools down gives him a hard look and says, "You look familiar, sir. Tell me, are you from Donegal?" "Why, yessir. I AM from Donegal". The fellow moved a stool closer and said, "I swear I've seen ye before. What school did ye attend?" The first man said, "Why Saint Mary's, of course." The second man exclaims, "You don't say. I went to Saint Mary's. Tell me, did you ever date one of the McGinty sisters?" The first man, looking astonished, said, "I DID, friend. I dated Colleen McGinty". At this point, one of the bartenders remarks to the veteran barman, "that's pretty amazing. Two men from Ireland meeting up here in New York." The old barman looks up and says, "Not really. The Murphy twins are drunk again."

An Irish priest gets pulled over for speeding. The police man, as he nears the open window, smells alcohol and notices an empty wine bottle in the passenger seat. The officer asks, "Father, have you been drinking?" The priest replies, "Just water." The officer then says, "Then why do I smell wine, Father?" The priest looks at the bottle and exclaims, "Good Lord! He's done it again!"

And my favorite, although I'm the only one who likes it: What's Irish and stays out all night?

Paddy O'Furniture! (hahahahahaha)

Oh, I could go on all day, but I'll leave you with a photo instead.
Not everyone can pull off a hat like this.

Cordless mice suck--more consumer testing

Mr. Man finally killed his cordless keyboard with his Neanderthal banging on the keys, so I was quickly dispatched to Ye Ole Office Supply Store to purchase a new one. Since I was being inconvenienced, I decided to buy myself something pretty. This usually means a pen. I am pen obsessed, folks. But this time, I was distracted by the worst kind of product--shiny and cute. I had to have it. I never learn.
The last item I "had to have" was a rollerball pen that used fountain pen ink. It came with a supply of great colored inks. It sucked like a Dyson vacuum. I tried to like it, but it just wouldn't write and I had to admit defeat. Fortunately, I have enough fountain pens (Obsessed with a capital O) to use the great colored inks.
So, cute and shiny little cordless mouse, with a neato techno-something tab...It was just too cool to pass up. And little? My cell phone is just slightly larger than this baby. Perfect for my over-crowded desk.
For the boss, I bought a cordless keyboard and mouse package. It's really great and has all these shortcut buttons for opening internet, email, Word, Excel, Powerpoint, buttons for "undo" and "redo", buttons to close a page or go back to the previous page, buttons to print, save, cure the common cold, etc. It's way to advanced for that two-fingered typer, but it's all they had.

This morning, I came to work all excited about installing the cuteness. I hooked up the boss's set first, then moved on to mine. Here are the things that sucked about it:

1. The magic waves or whatever that make the cordless things work didn't reach far enough for me to use the mouse with my right hand. While I eventually figured out that the cord included was to extend the wave area, it didn't help.
2. The mouse wouldn't work on my white blotter.
3. It was incredibly slow.
4. It was clearly possessed by some evil lifeforce and needed to be destroyed.

Not to worry. I still had the boss's old cordless mouse, which he hasn't managed to destroy but did manage to get yellow highlighter marks all over. How does one do that? So I hooked that up, and it sucked just as much as the cute one. I finally threw up my hands in defeat and reinstalled my trusty corded mouse, and life is once again worth living.

Except I have to call Slutty McWhore IV and I'm not looking forward to that. Knots in tummy. Feelings of inadequacy. I think I'll text instead.

Bad Habits and such

If you read the post that I wrote earlier today and just deleted...yep, I'm a wuss and felt that on the outside chance that someone of the Germanic nature were to stumble upon it, it wouldn't go well.

So, I fell asleep on the couch again in the middle of Grey's Anatomy. Dang! Then, I was awoken by my cell phone, Kelly Clarkson no less, at 12:09am by a certain German fellow. After dispensing with him, I washed my face and prepared for bed, but suddenly, I wasn't tired. I tried everything I know to put me to sleep--yes, everything.

So, at

I was doing this

Instead of doing this

Hey, I want to see you look good at 3:37am...and it was taken with the phone camera, so consider the source. Normally, with good photography equipment, I look like Snow White, perfectly preserved in her little glass bed awaiting my prince.

I have new pets

I'm so busy and I have a headache, but I can't look at my boss's handwriting anymore. So here's some fun to look at instead. Because I can't figure out how to add buttons on the side and shit (anyone out there who can help?), you'll have to click on the links to see my new pets. Click on Ron a few times. He does cute stuff. And click on the more tab for Mindy to feed and water her. and if you click on Mindy's body, she squeaks. Serena has a fly to eat. I couldn't get her to write anything in her web, though.
ron
mindy
serena

What is happening here?

Hollywood Is Closed! Come Back Later.

It's Oscar night and I live blocks from the Kodak Theater. This is what my horoscope says for today.
Something big could be occurring close to home today, Laurie. It would be advisable for you to stay indoors, if possible, or certainly not stray too far. Traffic is likely to be gridlock, and the sidewalks crowded with pedestrians anxious for a closer look. Use this self-imposed "house arrest" to do some long-neglected chores around the house. Play some music and have fun while you organize your bookshelves and clear out the clutter from your closets.

While there will be no closet cleaning (or any other cleaning for that matter) I will be staying close to home. They've already closed off DeLongpre at Wilcox as of 10am. I'm at work right now, but I'll be home before it gets too ugly.

Friday, I was driving along on Santa Monica Blvd, when some idiot stopped short in front of me. No, I didn't rear end him and wreck my pretty new car, but I did forget to down shift. So when I went to move again, I was starting in second gear and the car stalled. No biggie, I started it again and was off to the races, but wait--what's that amber light on my dashboard? Check Engine? Crap!!!! I can't afford a Check Engine type of repair. I'm poor folk. It didn't help that I was on my way to Burbank, with Tami in the car, and it was raining. Whoa is me. I begged Jamie (the car, try to keep up) "Please honey, I'll get you a pretty new antenna ball. I'll give you a good hand wash. Heck, I'll throw in an Armor-All if you just turn off that light". Apparently, Jamie is not a woman who is easily bought. I worried and fretted all day. Then tossed and turned all night. I had $100 in my checking account. I can't afford a car repair, but I didn't want to ignore it. Then it hit me...SEARS. I have a Sears card, and they have auto repair shops.

Paul, the very nice mechanic, said that Sears doesn't have diagnostics, but he'd give her the old lube treatment and see if that does anything. An oil change, new filters (air and oil) and I was on the road for only $25.99. I drove Tami back to Pasadena with the check engine light still taunting me. Can I go two weeks until my next payday? Is it serious? Paul thought that maybe there was a "hiccup" in the computer due to my short stop/stall episode. I parked at Tami's and helped her carry in her stuff (because she still hurts too much to carry more than 15 pounds), then left. I turned on the car and YIPPEE! The light went off. I'm going to have her checked in two weeks after I get paid, though.

Well, I'm off. Happy Oscar Night. Hope your favorites win. My picks? Best Actor--Philip Seymour Hoffman, Best Actress-Felicity Huffman, Best Supporting Actor--George Clooney, Best Supporting Actress--Rachel Weisz, Best Picture--Brokeback Mountain (even though I didn't see it and it reminds me of the South Park episode where Sundance comes to South Park and Cartman says all independent films are about gay cowboys eating pudding). But what do I know?

Excuse me, Miss, you have a smudge on your forehead.

It's Ash Wednesday! Back in my days of knee socks and plaid jumpers, Ash Wednesday was the day everyone wanted bangs. If you didn't have bangs, you inevitably ended up with the priest with a heavy thumb, the guy who acted like he was stamping out a cigarette on your forehead. Since it was a sin to blatantly wipe off the ashes (or so we believed), we'd try many techniques to dust it off. There was the blowing-an-imaginary-hair-away (blow out of corner of your mouth), the phew-that-was-a-tough-test ("accidentally" wiping forehead with back of hand), and the less subtle, but effective brush-it-off-but-leave-enough-to-show-piety.

Oh, this reminds me of a certain Ash Wednesday I spent with my sister in D.C. Now, when Kate and I are together with no adult supervision, we tend to get a bit, well, I'll say high spirited, although the word "obnoxious" has been bandied about. The year was 1984. Kate was living in Alexandria, VA, and I was visiting her. We planned to spend the day doing touristy stuff in DC, then attend mass at St. Matthew's Cathedral (the site of Kennedy's funeral mass and also the name of our hometown church, without the cathedral part). Everywhere in the city we encountered people who had already done their churchly duty and received their ashes. So Kate and I, being the fun gals we are, started pretending it was an alien invasion and all the aliens could be discerned by the black smudges on their foreheads. "Look, there's another one." "Quick! Run!" Okay, maybe you had to be there, but it was fun. Late in the day, we were on the subway on our way to mass, still doing our alien invasion bit, you know, pointing and laughing, "They're everywhere! What are they?", when some sourpuss gave us the MOM LOOK and reprimanded us with "They're Catholic. It's Ash Wednesday". To which Kate replied (in a tone that can best be described as Mean Girls) "We know. We're Catholic too". Then we gave her our own look and giggled conspiratorially. Ah Katie...always a good time.