soooo sleeeepy...

A message I sent from my cell phone to Blogger about a week ago just showed up today. Way to go!

I'm at school. I'm early. I'm not in the mood to practice. I'm not in the mood to do anything. I think I have an iron deficiency. No, seriously. All I wanted to do this weekend was sleep. I got up on Saturday only because I was expecting a friend to stop by and pick something up. Otherwise, I would have stayed in bed. Sunday, I slept until noon. I got up and took a shower because I felt grungy. I started to knit a baby hat and had to get the calculator from my bedroom to do the cast-on math. I sat on my bed and suddenly felt so tired that a natural disaster wouldn't have moved me. I fell backward, feet still on the floor, and was asleep in minutes. This was 2:00ish. I slept until 4:00, had dinner, then went back to bed from 6:00 to 8:00. Got up, watched some TV, and was in bed by 10:30. I feel sleepy and listless today, but I need a paycheck so I'm all doped up on the coffee.

Must eat iron-rich foods. Peanut butter and jelly just isn't going to cut it. Any suggestions from my health conscious friends?

I think I need a good cry

I'm feeling jangly. I can't think of another word for it. I'm jittery, but not from coffee. I haven't had any more coffee than usual. I'm easily annoyed, but it's not PMS. I'm in a relatively good mood, in spite of this feeling. I just feel...oh, I don't know. Anxious? Apprehensive? Like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop but no shoe dropped in the first place? I can't explain. I need something but I'm not sure what. And, no, it's not sex, because if that were the case I'd be feeling like this all the time.

Usually when I feel like this, I go and talk to my friend Nick. Not that he offers any pearls of wisdom, but he has a way of putting things into perspective that calms my nerves. He listens. He appears to be paying attention. He asks all the right questions. Granted, if you asked him what I said the next day, he'd have no clue, but in the moment, he's good to have around. Plus his voice has a very soothing quality. Thursdays are the day that we (the circle of friends and acquaintances in which he runs) usually get together. I called him at 10:15 and got a strange digital recording on his cell phone. That's not unusual, as his home phone answering machine usually plays some quirky song instead of the "I'm not here" message. I hate the "song in lieu of message" types, but I accept it as one of his endearing quirks. I called his work number and it rang so long the fax machine picked up (always a treat). I waited until 11:00 and called his cell again, only to get the same bizarre digital recording. WHY ISN'T HE ANSWERING ANY PHONES??? I left a message to call me back. He didn't call back. I got mad.

Those of you who know the Nick friendship saga know that it's not unusual that he didn't call back, but last night it really, really, REALLY hurt my feelings. It shouldn't have. He was probably busy, or with his girlfriend, or out somewhere. Whatever. It's not like he owes me or anything, but of all the times for him to be himself, last night was not the night. I really needed to hear his voice last night. Damn man.

I think I'll just open a bottle of wine when I get home.

Good thing I'm perfect

I may not be America's Next Top Model, but I know a few basic tenets of fashion, and one of those is that if you're going to layer your clothing, at least one of the shirts should fit (see white arrow). How about forgoing the layers and just find one shirt that actually fits you instead of trying to squeeze into something you wore in high school. Perhaps the fleshtone shirt under the tiny white one was an attempt to wear a belly shirt without actually exposing the belly.

Also, if you're going to wear strange, thick, cotton undergarments, you should make sure your track pants come up far enough to cover them (red arrow). If you absolutely have to expose your panties, make sure they're pretty, not old and threadbare. Seriously, these pantaloons were thick, like long johns, and had a button fly. I believe there's a rule about not wearing your man's undergitchies. It would be better to go bare-assed.

I guess I'm choosy

I was raised on Skippy peanut Butter. It's the only kind my mom bought. She would scoff at those "Choosy Mom's choose JIF" commercials. Once my Aunt Wicki (I think it was Aunt Wicki--it may have been Aunt Janet) gave us a Salton Peanut Butter machine and we made all-natural peanut butter like gangbusters. Oh, it was soooooo good, but you could only make about 2 ounces at a time. For a family with five growing kids, that was not going to cut it. Also, I think my parents got tired of having to buy pounds of raw peanuts only to net a tiny jar of butter. Plus, the clean up was a mess because peanut butter is gooey, people.

Anywho, it never occurred to me to buy any other brand of peanut butter when I got out on my own. Skippy was good enough for Joanie; it was good enough for me. Then, I moved in with Tami, who ONLY eats JIF. She won't even try another brand. That was fine with me. I'm not picky--or am I?

This week, Target has JIF on sale 3/$5. I'm po' folk so I've been eating a whole lot of PBJ (well, not so much on the J, since I ran out on Sunday). Target is a haven for cheap groceries. Normally, JIF is only $1.82 a jar. Bread is only $1.29 a loaf. For a little over $3, you have food for a week. And that's just the beginning, my friends...but I digress. Where was I? Oh, yeah, JIF on sale. Naturally, by Saturday at 4:00 they were sold out (even though the circular didn't arrive until Sunday). The only peanut butter left in the store was Skippy, and only three jars of that were left. I was desperate and didn't want to drive to the next nearest Target (NoHo), so I bought two jars of Skippy. I should have taken the drive.

Having eaten JIF for 11 years now, I have to say, choosy moms are right. Skippy does not have the consistency of JIF nor the great Peanuty taste. Skippy tastes like that "Better Than Peanut Butter" fake crap that they tried to sell us on at my Weight Watchers meetings. Now, I'm stuck with two jars of Skippy to choke down before I can buy more JIF.

Live and learn.

I pay for this torture

No A/C at school, and no windows to let in a forgiving breeze. It's good to see how my tuition dollars are being spent.

I suspect a plot

Remember way back when I may have sideswiped a bus? Well, I believe they are out to get me. I think the busriders' union is behind it. Or perhaps the MTA itself. They resent losing my $3 a day bus fare. They hate my smug glances as I drive by. They won't stop until I'm squashed beneath the wheels of a brightly festooned bus on a major thoroughfare.

I was minding my own business, driving down Melrose, when a bus, the #11, stopped in front of me (at a stop). I went around and got in front of it at corner of Vermont and Melrose. I made a right on red and was blissfully singing along to the CD ("I'm walking on Sunshine...Whooooaa") and it DID feel good until--HELLO--out of nowhere the #11 bus was right on my front bumper!!! Holy Fender Bender, Batman. I stopped just in time and the behemoth cut into my lane, no doubt laughing maniacally and saying "ha ha, Green Jetta. We meet again." Dang! And, of course, he took his sweet ol' time turning on the green arrow leaving me to fend for myself and try to make a left onto Beverly at rush hour. JERK!!

Parking 101

Doesn't the meter always stand at the top of the parking space?

What did I do to deserve this?

The air conditioning in my office is now officially blown. The store next door, which is partially cooled by the same unit, is now muggier than a water buffalo's arse, and my office is downright balmy. To make matters worse, I work with men. Lots of men. Men who sweat. Men with questionable hygiene. The whole building smells like a locker room. I walked to the store next door to use the bathroom, because the toilet on my side of the building is blocked up (naturally), and I could not breathe. By the time I made it back to my office I was in a full-on asthma attack. I'm thinking of refusing to return to work until this situation is improved. I believe I have a valid excuse.

And one of my neighbors used my trash can this week and then left it on the curb, making it appear as if I'm the irresponsible one. I don't know what ticked me off more--the fact that they used my trash can when every unit in the complex has an assigned can with the number clearly written on top, or that the bastard didn't return it to the back of the building where it belongs. grumble grumble grumble.

Oh, and the ants have arrived. Yippee!

And it's climbing

Send ice and possibly a hot stud to keep the cold beverages flowing.

Oceanography or poor language skills?

Here's a job listing from Craigslist:

I'AM LOOKING FOR A STUDENT OR SOMEONE LOOKING TO MAKE EXTRA MONEY FOR A PACIFIC PROJECT. I NEED SOMEONE TO WRITE DESCRIPTIONS FOR MY PRODUCTS TO SELL ON E-BAY AND SET MY PRODUCTS UP ON E-BAY. I SELL LADIES CLOTHING, JEWELRY AND HANDBAGS. I WANT TO PUT THEM ON E-BAY BUT YOU HAVE TO WRITE A LITTLE DESCRIPTIONS. I NEED SOMEONE THAT HAVE EXCELLENT WRITING SKILLS. PLUS I'AM SETTING UP MY OWN WEB AND I WOULD LIKE SOMEONE TO WRITE A LITTLE BIO FOR MY WEB.

No Stitch, but a whole lot of Bitch

I tried, Ladies. I really tried. I drove around both parking lots at the Farmer's Market for 40 minutes looking for a spot and trying to avoid running over the idiots who feel it is perfectly acceptable to just walk in front of a car. Meet me at Third and Fairfax, indeed. What was the attraction last night? Did everyone hear about Ellen's birthday and rush over to join the celebration? I mean, Crimony! Snakes on a Plane, even! (that's for you, Laurie) I left feeling very sad because I miss you gals and really want to hear about Kendra's new job.

Sometimes, my friend Tami is too funny. She's a self-proclaimed bitch, but her delivery is so deadpan that I laugh myself silly. Here's our conversation at a pizza place while surrounded by construction workers who have been laboring in the hot sun all day:

Me: Yeah, so Mark, you know, the guy with all the answers
Tami: You mean the guy with no answers.
Me: Yeah, I was being sarcastic.
Tami: Sorry, I couldn't smell it over all the body odor.

Maybe it's me. She said this so offhanded, without even cracking a smile, that I couldn't finish my thought. I just laughed.

Bossman is back today. Rats!

The watermelon bag by Tami

I changed the name, but not address

My apologies to anyone who has me blogrolled, but the name no longer fit the blog. I'd been thinking of changing it for some time now, but couldn't think of new name. I originally started this to regale you all with stories of the freaks on the bus. Then I got a car, like, a month after I started this and changed the name. Now, it's so long since I've been on a bus that even the changed name didn't seem to fit. So, why "Needs more gingham"? No reason. Uccellina commented thusly about my pigtails and I just thought it was funny. And really, what couldn't benefit from a little touch of gingham.

Blogger won't let you change the address without starting a whole new blog (or at least I can't find that option) so the blog address is still the same. No need to change that.

watermelon bag lining

Hot and Goofy

Sure, Boss, I'll get on that as soon as I finish sloppin' the hogs.

I'm cranky and ranting.

Last night I was watching TV waiting for the late night Oprah to watch chapter three of the Debt Diet series (I need it) when a thought struck me and I made a mental note to rant about it today on my blog. Unfortunately, I mentally misplaced the note and all I can remember was that it had something to do with the glut of stupid commercials on TV these days.

Maybe it's selective memory, but it seems to me that commercials were more creative and catchy back in my youth. There were jingles--catchy, tuneful, effective jingles. Today the lazy ad execs just plug in the latest pop/rock song. Mainly, I have a problem with the Cash Call commercial. Where's Gary Coleman? His "sushi chefs and football refs" gig was at least palatable. Non-actor guy saying "Need cash?" every, yes EVERY, commercial break is really starting to piss me off. Yes, dork, I DO need cash, but I'm not going to get it from you losers so quit asking me. Oh, and the Pepto-Bismol commercial--do we really need to see that guy grab his ass because he has diarrhea? Enough!!

But now I have a new rant--Pansy ass bitches who can't do what they're supposed to do. Russell, my partner in crime, is supposed to be in Santa Monica today doing inventory. He's not there. Why? Because he can't get a ride. I've been telling him for a week to get the bus, save the pass and we'd do a paid out for his $3. He just told me he'd rather quit than ride the bus to Santa Monica. Yes, I have a car now, but I didn't for 11 years in this city, and I rode the bus to Santa Monica to do their stinking inventory every time. Also, to Glendale to do their inventory. Also to Pasadena. Sure it sucks. Sure it's not the most convenient mode of transportation. However, it's a mode of transportation and relatively cheap consider you can't buy a gallon of gas for bus fare these days and the bus stops right in front--literally IN FRONT--of the Santa Monica store. Oh, and Howard, who's also supposed to be there is "working on a festival" that is going on this weekend. IT'S TUESDAY!! You've been working on that festival since last week. What the hell could you possibly be doing? Rome was built in less time than you've been spending on this freakin' festival.

Bossman comes back tomorrow. I'd better stop ranting and get something done.

Man, it's hot. Let me clean and knit something.

No, I still don't have any air conditioning, but I gave up trying to stay cool and decided to sweat myself silly by cleaning my kitchen and knitting. Oh, and driving to West Hills, because that's what you do when it's hot--drive to a hotter place. Actually, I went to my friend's movie theater (no, she doesn't own it, she manages it) to see Pirates of The Caribbean. Ah, nothing like a cold, dark theater and a nearly three-hour movie to cool you off. Could the crew of the Flying Dutchman have been any more disgusting?

So, I knitted this cute little bib from the One Skein book and mastered (sort of) short rows and almost mastered hiding wraps. Okay, that's all kinds of knitting jargon that the rest of you will be bored with, but trust me, it's quite the acomplishment.

I whipped this up while watching Kingdom of Heaven (3 1/2 hour Director's Cut, because Orlando is just adorable) and truth be told it took about five hours. Still not bad, considering I had to read the directions about a hundred times before the hiding part made sense.



Also, pretty darn good considering I started this project (right) last week while watching Season two of Deadwood. I crocheted the whole thing except for 1/2 of the outer border. It couldn't be easier, and yet, I just couldn't muster the enthusiasm to finish it. It's a placemat (part of a set I will eventually complete for my Mommy). I finally put the last 20 loops on this weekend.




Yes, my sofa is ugly. It was free.

Things that make me smile

When I get visitors like these:

Charlie is the black lab and Sasha is the white shepherd.

Charlie is the friendlier of the two. He's also a little drooly. Sasha, on the other hand, was far too concerned with personal hygiene to pose for pictures. [uh, before this he was cleaning his, um, well, you know.]

Hump Day (I knew a man called Hump)

My usual drive to work includes a drive down an alley and a quick almost U-turn into our parking lot. This morning, some chick had her car, which was apparently not running, stopped right next to the alley entrance on the south side, and the tow truck that came to help her parked right next to the alley entrance on the north side. Both the car and the tow truck were in the right lane blocking that flow of traffic. There was barely enough room to fit a mid-sized car between them. Neither driver nor tow truck operator acknowledged that there were other cars

in the vicinity. I finally opened my window and said to the driver of the car in my friendliest, haven't-had-coffee-yet voice, "Could you at least let me know if it's clear to pull out?" She looked at me like I had spoken Sanskrit. I then said something not so friendly as I threw caution to the wind and pulled out, then had to drive up the street, do a K-turn and pull into the driveway. I would provide illustration, but Blogger is not cooperating.

And what, you may be wondering, was the affliction to her car? She ran out of gas. On a hill. Ran out of gas!!! Lady, your gas guage had better be broken.

On to my next rant--Let me just confess right up front: I'm a sucker for bad TV and Dave Navarro. Yes, he thinks way too highly of himself, but dang, he's hot and he helped me with a music quiz, even though he didn't know who did "Time of the Season." So naturally I tuned into "Rockstar: Supernova" last night. While there's so much to rant about, I'm going to focus on just one--Jill Gioia. She came out to do a Courtney Love song, dressed in a ragged white dress, holding dead roses, her blonde hair messy, f-ed up eyeliner and when Dave called her on it saying "you may want to try to give it your own interpretation" she claimed to not know who Courtney Love is, and that this WAS her own thing. How do you not know who Courtney love is? Even if you're not familiar with her music, you have at least seen her on Court TV, or the Grammys, or any other freakin' medium because Courtney Love is freakin' everywhere. And this Jill chick is from NY, NY. PUH-LEAZE! At least Dave, at his bitchy best, said, "Well, if you look at the cover of the album that song is on, she's wearing the same dress and carrying flowers. I'm just saying." Love you Dave. Hate almost all of the contestants this year though. Seriously, Storm Large? What the hell kind of name is that? Although, that's what I said about JD Fortune, so who am I to say.

I love a happy ending

Happy cat.

Some people should be beaten

Today the staff of our Las Vegas location found a zippered black duffel bag outside in front of the building. Inside this bag? A beautiful Siamese cat. It's 104 in Vegas today. What kind of jackwad left this lovely cat to die? That person should be zippered in a black bag and left in the heat for an hour or so to see if they like it. Then beaten like a old rug.

They saved her and named her (of all things)
Ray Parker, Jr.
Fortunately for RPJ, she's among animal lovers.

The cat's away...

The bossman is on vacation for two whole weeks. TWO!! And he gave me shit over my eight-day vacation last month. Do I make him train a temp boss for while he's away? Hells no.
The mice (me and Russell) will be playing quite a bit. Well, maybe not so much but we are going to Chin Chin for lunch today and just you try to stop us.

So, last night when I went out to my car at 6:30 there was a baby cricket on top of my antenna ball just sitting there looking all buggy. I drove off to Stitch N Bitch and forgot all about it. Later in the evening I drove back to work to drop off Tami (she came with me and left her car at my office) and THE CRICKET WAS STILL THERE. Now, anyone who's driven with me knows I have a tendency to speed up and stop short. I was driving at a pretty good clip down Fountain. How the hell did the little guy hang on? Here he is:

Yes, it's a Nacho Libre antenna ball. Focus, people. I just picture him with these goggles and a WWII fighter pilot helmet. (cue "Ride of the Valkyries")

Hot!

It's too hot in my apartment.
I need air conditioning.

A letter to Macaroni Grill and restaurants of their ilk

Dear Macaroni Grill,
Love you. Love your food. Love you and your food. However, if I may be so bold as to offer one suggestion it would be this...lose the paper table covering. Paper tablecloths are for kids birthday parties and outdoor picnics. That's it. The paper was rough and gave us all paper cuts on our arms and legs (it's shorts season, people).
Also, putting crayons on a table with paper covering and no children present is only inviting this sort of imagery.









And having the server write her name on the paper? Well, invest in name tags and save your server's dignity. Poor Marie. She meant us no harm. She was prompt with the extra bread, the food, and didn't get all pissy when someone changed his drink order three times. She certainly didn't deserve to have this next to her name.

Please reserve the paper for your next barbeque and avoid such tomfoolery in the future.
Thank You,
A recent patron

ps. Naturally, I did nothing to try to stop such tomfoolery because that's just some funny stuff and the aforementioned someone is quite the artist. Besides, paper and crayons? You're just begging for it.


Poor photo quality due to camera phone. Thanks to C & J for dinner, and to A for making me laugh.