The time of the season..??

Why on earth is Starbucks already selling its pumpkin-flavored items? The sign that went up this week promoting the pumpkin spice latte and the pumpkin cream cheese muffin refers to sampling the "pumpkiny taste of fall." (Is "pumpkiny" even a word, by the way?)
Ummm... fall doesn't actually start until September 22nd. In other words, it's still three weeks away.
It's bad enough that summer clothes are in stores in the dead of winter, while fall clothing shows up around the 4th of July, and Christmas items are for sale in October. Now the fall beverages are being foisted upon us in the summer?? It's so wrong. And even more incongruous in San Francisco, as we are just starting to get our warmest weather...though I know Starbucks can't market to every little microclimate around.

On another note, the hurricane coverage on TV isn't funny anymore. In fact, the Gulf Coast appears to be hell on earth right now. I can't quite fathom what's happening there.

Words to live by...

I really love it when I cut myself shaving, and don't realize it until I'm getting off the elevator at work, and spot the small pool of blood on the back of my leg. Nice.

Anyway.... when I was whining about my sinus issues last week, my dear pal Kimmy passed on this horrifying tale, involving the child of a friend of hers:

"years ago, noreen put her in her room for a nap. she came up later to check on her, and several parts of her beloved blankey were nowhere to be found. hmm. interesting.
several days go by. still no "favorite blankey remnants."
the daughter is now starting to get really sick....fever, listless, etc.
she takes her to the doctor... who finds nothing.
she takes her in again, nothing.
she now goes to an ear nose throat guy who finds out....TADA....she has impacted sinuses. SHE SHOVED HER BLANKEY ALL THE WAY UP INTO HER SINUS CAVITIES! he said he'd never seen anything like it. "

(It makes my sinuses hurt just thinking about that.)

"the moral of the story? be happy that you don't have a blankey shoved up your nose."

I will try to remember that whenever I'm feeling blue.

There he is!

He's in Baton Rouge.
Think he's bummed that he's not in New Orleans?

Another highlight this morning has been Rob Marciano, in (I think) Biloxi. I caught a live shot this morning in which he was being pelted with so much rain that he had his eyes closed, and kept rubbing and wiping them. On camera. While struggling to stand up.

Yes, all of this reporting really helps me to understand that 150-mile per hourish winds are really dangerous. I wouldn't know that unless these guys stood out in them.

"People are taking this very seriously..."

Really, CNN? It IS a Category Five storm, after all. As you have dutifully been reminding viewers every three seconds. As you should.
But with so many people being ordered out of their homes (would you want to go stand in a ginormous line for the privilege of spending the night in the SuperDome? yikes.), how come I keep seeing the same video of the same old guy on oxygen, rolling his little suitcase toward some van that I assume will carry him to safety? Over. And over. Again.

And where in the world is Anderson Cooper? I need my fix!

I told you I was a Dork...

News item (CBS): Forecasters at the National Hurricane Center say Katrina has taken a major shift to the west and say it's likely it will come ashore as a category 4 storm.

Anderson Cooper, where will you be when Katrina makes landfall again?? How will you keep your baseball cap atop your head? Where will Hurricane One be? How about John Zarrella?

R...A...M...B...L...I...N....

Ramblin'....

(I think, perhaps, you need to be of a certain age to get the reference.)

Shhh. Don't tell anyone. The sun was out in my neighborhood yesterday. For the first time in 3 1/2 weeks. Don't want to jinx it.

Interesting bus ride home yesterday. First, a woman sitting behind me apparently had a bag full o'fish. (I'm basing this on the delightful aroma that tickled my nose after she boarded.) Then, the driver stopped the bus to say that someone sitting near the front of the vehicle had, in her words, "had a BM on himself," and would have to get off, because the smell was making her ill. Yes, people, a passenger shat himself on my commute home. A "gentleman" quickly got off. Then the aroma wafted toward the back of the bus. FABULOUS.
A short time later, someone wearing waaaaaaaaay too much cheap cologne boarded and stood near me. It's a wonder I didn't vomit. It was a panoply of olfactory challenges, the entire ride home.

You'd think I'd avoid all commute nastiness by driving in this morning.
You'd be wrong. I got stuck behind a garbage truck for a couple of blocks in Chinatown. That.... was NASTY.

Having said that, this is the first day this week that I haven't felt like cold, sharp stakes have been shoved into my brain via my sinuses. Yaaaay!

CNN was most disappointing last night. Every time I tuned in, they were airing regular programming (Larry King? I think not) and NOT the wall-to-wall hurricane coverage I was hoping for. I guess a Category One storm doesn't warrant it. Damn. (And I so wish I'd been clever enough to headline yesterday's post "Katrina and the Waves." Or to say that Floridians were NOT walking on sunshine. Nice, Angela...!)

Happy Friday!

Wow!

News item:

MIAMI (AP) - Tropical Storm Katrina strengthened Thursday as it trudged toward Florida's heavily populated southeastern coast, and forecasters expected it to become a weak hurricane before making landfall overnight.

Woo hoo!
I love hurricanes.
No, I don't take pleasure in the misfortune of others. (Well, most of the time, anyway...). It's not the destruction that thrills me, nor even the amazing power of Mother Nature.

No. It's the hurricane coverage on TV, especially on CNN. You see, the brilliant minds in TV news think the best way to show the dangers of being outdoors in a hurricane is to place several reporters outdoors during hurricanes. And it's the funniest shit you'll ever see on the news.
A fine example, here. (I saw this live, as it happened... and then the constant replays. Oh, the drama of a FALLING SIGN!! The HORROR! Great stuff.)

Last year, I was richly rewarded for my extensive viewing of hurricane coverage when a reporter in Florida literally got blown out of camera range. He'd been crouching low, talking about how hard it was to stand up straight... then he stood up straight, and got knocked over by the very high winds he'd been describing. I nearly peed my pants.

So if you're looking for something to watch on TV tonight, tomorrow, or during any future hurricanes.... I'm telling you, turn on CNN. You won't be sorry.

Hey, I'm NOT crazy!

Well, not about this, anyway.
Remember those hens I saw downtown a couple of weeks ago? Check this out, from yesterday's San Francisco Chronicle:

Rec & Park confirms spy Sam Osborn's report of chickens at Ferry Park, at Davis and Washington. The barnyard birds have been there for about a year and a half, says Rose Dennis, after being rescued by a kindly gardener who intercepted the four hens and a rooster on the way to becoming chicken soup. He brought them back to a small space in the park he was tending, built them a pen and has looked after them since. (Hey, they were running around freely, and not in a pen, but whatever - tc)
Rec & Park knew about the birds, and animal welfare authorities had inspected and found them in fine fettle. But a few weeks ago, says Dennis, "some young executives who need their zzz's'' and were "having trouble with the cock-a-doodle-doos'' lodged complaints. Since then, "we have been working to humanely relocate them.'' Dennis is sympathetic with the sleep-deprived. But she notes that many neighbors have become quite fond of the hens (you know, a kind of "Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill" thing for flatlanders), and the place was "a kind of Shangri-la for the chickens.''
The petting section of the San Francisco Zoo is a possibility, as are star turns at the farmhouse at the Golden Gate Park Children's Playground. "We are listening to all sides,'' says Dennis.

Must Love...Dignity

News item:

LOS ANGELES (AP) - Her character in ``Must Love Dogs'' is embarrassed to do it, but if Diane Lane were single in real life, she says she'd be onthe Internet looking for a guy in a minute. She says she thinks it would be ``a ball.''


A ball? Oh, Diane. I know you have a movie to promote, but PLEASE. It is not a ball, in most cases, but simply weird. And the anonymity of it leads to some truly eyebrow-raising behavior.

For instance, there are a lot of men out there who seem to think that if a woman is open to online dating, she wants to see pictures of their genitalia. Or read otherwise explicit notes from strangers. One of my personal favorites was simple: "Are you shaved?"
Yeah. You're the guy I want to get to know better. (And I'm such a smartass that I thought it would be funny to say, "As a matter of fact, I did shave my legs today!" It hadn't occurred to me that he would think I was being serious and not realize that I was mocking him. Oops.)

Then, you'll find, that after you've agonized over every little word you used to describe yourself in a clever, witty, yet truthful manner (go ahead -- try summing up the essence of your being in a paragraph sometime), 99% of the guys who respond will not pay any attention at all to what you've written. Why? What's the first rule of online dating? It's all about the picture. What's the second rule of online dating? It's all about the picture. Great. So glad I have a large collection of photos that make me look like I have ghostly white skin (I prefer to think of it as milky white), flaming red eyes (hello, they're green and blue!), and 37 chins (Okay. I have more than one chin... but really. I'm not Jabba the Hutt. Most days.).

Then you start realizing that many people online are shopping. That's the only way to describe those long, detailed lists of qualities they're seeking. And those are usually the people who've been signed up for online dating services the longest. Coincidence? I think not.
I'm guessing these are also the people who are most likely to fall off the face of the earth, after starting the oh-so-tedious "getting to know you" e-mail exchange. Just gone, without a trace. Should I call the police or something? You've already seen the bad picture; was it something I said?? But see, this is acceptable behavior in online dating, to just stop talking to someone when you've lost interest, for whatever reason.

Then there are the completely illiterate replies you'll get, as outlined here.
(My new favorite blog, btw. Go read. You'll die.)
Okay, I know that spelling isn't supposed to count. But it does.

Just recently, my dear pal Kim reluctantly dipped her toe back into the online pool. Here's one ...uh....really interesting guy she heard from (snarky remarks in italics are mine):

About me and who I'd like to date: I am highly intelligent, handsome, very athletic and play the keyboards, where I enjoy Jazz, Classical and Rock (i didn't realize keyboards were a place). I was recruited by the Ivy League Schools (all of them? you went to more than one college?), not only for my academic achievements but also for being ranked as one of the top Quarterbacks and Kickers in the country (modesty makes me so hot!). Being tenacious and undaunted by anybody or anything has proved to be an asset on Wall Street, the Corporate Boardroom and in athletics (you are apparently undaunted by Using capital letters, In the Wrong places). Once you meet me, you will quickly discern that I am highly sensitive, honest, compassionate, communicative, open, affectionate, gregarious and have a great sense of humor (really? why is there no humor here??). Not only am I highly ethical with strong morals but also I am the consummate gentleman. (zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz i'm sorry! how rude of me! you were saying?)
I would not have been a finalist for Bachelor of the Month for Cosmopolitan Magazine some years ago, orModeled for the Ford Model Agency during my college years, if I were not considered Handsome with an Athletic Build. (Oh. My. God.)

Then there's the 28 year-old who posted a lot of pics of his very nice physique, but can you decipher this?

Subject: I am Jonny. If you 39;re curious then we have something in common
(huh? kim's 40. but..huh? what's 39;re? is that slang for something? you kids today...)
Gramma says I'm a player ......................But I don't think she knows what that means. I told her to start watching more Judge Judy and less MTV Jams (say what? and MTV Jams hasn't been on the air in years!)
I have a rigorous training schedule so most of my day is spent training (lots of intellectual stimulation, ooh.) I am an aspiring professional boxer, looking to turn pro later this year. I have never wanted anything more in my life and wake up every morning with a burning fire inside (there's medication for that) and ready to go after my dreams.

I suppose I should give these guys credit for putting themselves out there, since I am, to steal a line from Sex and the City, on strike until conditions improve.
But there's got to be a better way. Please tell me there's a better way.

Oh, bloody hell...

You mean I'm not supposed to shop at Target anymore?
Details here.

Fuck!

A tip...

It's not a good idea to try on sunglasses when you have a raging sinus headache.
You're liable to leave Target with glasses that have a tiny scratch on them, just to end the pain.

Although, at least these glasses will never pinch that very delicate area around the bridge of my nose...

Pressure HERE and HERE...

I have the worst sinus headache ever.
I was all set to write something dead-clever (hah) about online dating... but it feels like my head might explode soon, so that will have to wait for another day.
The good news is... Miss Cheese was a stud this morning and rode her bike to work, bequeathing to me her parking spot... so I am spared the Muni ordeal today. Yaaaaaaay! Thanks, D!

Yay, Grumpy's!

oh evil vodka
elixir of the devil
hangover maker

Actually, I prefer to blame the shots the bartender claimed were called "Slapper's Twats." How can you NOT try a drink with a name like that?
My Saturday will be filled with water and aspirin.

Cool gray city of ALRIGHT ALREADY!

I had to laugh when I picked up my San Francisco Chronicle this morning and saw this on the front page:

FOG HEAVEN
The sun will come out tomorrow. Or maybe not. It's summer in the city, and that means gray skies.

Either it's a slow news day... or someone at the Chron has had it with the fog too. Check out the full story here, if you want to feel my pain.

Happy Friday!

More questions than answers...

Why does Costco sell brooms without dustpans? Isn't the dustpan a critical part of the sweeping process? What am I supposed to do, sweep debris under my furniture? I already have dust bunnies there large enough to name, thank you.

Is Costco really the Bermuda Triangle? Is that why so many shoppers seem to lose all sense of direction and perspective once they walk through the warehouse door? Am I the only one who's amazed that one person can somehow manage to block one of those giant aisles in there?

With all the great bargains at Costco, why can't I get out of there without spending at least $75?

Why can't I get rid of this weird little hair that keeps popping out of the mole on my chin? How is it possible to pluck the same hair, several times a week? How does it manage to reappear the following day?

Why are there fingerprints on my computer's glare screen every day? Do people realize these aren't touch-screen computers?

Am I ever going to see the sun in my neighborhood again? I've been socked in for nearly three weeks. Basta!

What's the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

Mmmm, that's some tasty leather on my shoe!

On the bus, on the way home from work yesterday:
My seatmate sees me reading the article about the Rolling Stones in last week's Newsweek.
There are two pictures on the page -- Keith and Mick in 1970, and Keith and Mick today.

Him: "Is that a picture of Mick Jagger 30 years ago?

Me: "Yeah. But get a load of Keith Richards' receding hairline now."

And then I notice that my seatmate has a hairline that's receding in much the same manner.

Oops.

No comment from my seatmate.

Me, clarifying and backpedaling: "I mean, look at how long and raggedy it is in the back...and how awful it looks with those faux dreads."

I am an ass.

Misty, water-colored memories...

Taking my friend Sherri’s daughter Anais to her first DMB concert got me thinking about the first concert I went to… and it’s more proof of just what a Dork I really am.
Can you guess who I saw?
It was 1978.
Disco was big.
His older brothers were huge (not in stature – in the industry..) .
Do I really want to admit to this? It’s actually an early sign that I would forever love cheesy things …a subject I might come back to another day.
My first concert… was Andy Gibb.
Yes. You heard me.
Give me a break – I was 13! Going on 14! He was adorable! Come on. If you grew up in that era, you thought so too. You know you did.
I don’t even remember much about the show, though I’m pretty sure he was wearing some shiny, satiny pants. They were the uniform of the day, after all. And I remember laughing with my friend Julie about the girls around us who were SOBBING through the whole thing. What’s that about? Now, you know I’m as obsessive a fan as there is when it comes to my favorite performers, but I have never… NEVER… wept at the sight of them. (Okay, a certain Latin singer took my breath away, but I DID NOT CRY. And that was just a few years ago. Ahem.)
I remember well the negotiations about getting to the concert – and every other concert until I could drive -- as in, “My mom will drive if your dad will pick us up.” The cry of the suburban teen. How did our parents stand it?

Do I get any credibility points for my second concert? I saw Heart, later that same year.
This wasn’t the corporate-influenced, unduly glammed-out Heart you saw in those crappy videos in the 80’s… but the kick-ass sisters who led a kick-ass rock and roll band with great harmonies in the 70’s. And they kicked ass. I wanted to be Ann Wilson, and when some drunk and/or stoned guy sitting near us told me I looked like her… well, I was over the moon…especially since I did NOT look like her. At all. Okay, again, with the dark hair. I guess everyone in San Diego thinks there’s just one person in town with dark hair. Sherri, me, Ann Wilson…

That night also gave me my first experience with pot smoke, much like Anais experienced this weekend. And I’m NOT JUST SAYING THIS because my mom is reading (Hi mom!), but I am almost positive the reason I’ve never tried the stuff is because it smelled like burning skunk ass to me at 14.
Not that I know what a skunk’s burning ass smells like. I may be a dork, but I don’t go around smelling skunk asses on purpose, and I’ve certainly never set one on fire. Bleah.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light....

....with the dye-ing of the hair.
I confess. I'm completely freaked out by the amount of gray hair on my head. And it's getting more and more aggressive by the day. I just had my hair colored three weeks ago, and already, I have a ton of white roots. WHITE. Not even gray... WHITE! If I let those roots grow in, I think about 90% of the hair on my head would be white.
You know what doesn't help? The lighting in the bathroom at work was apparently designed to highlight the white roots on my head and to make me look as pasty and gross as possible. Seriously. Is there some theory that holds that people will be more productive at work if they're horrified by the sight of their reflections in the bathroom mirror??
But I digress.
Now, if I were really cool, I WOULD let it all grow in and be one of those great women with salt and pepper hair.
But as you know, I am so NOT cool. My vanity has doomed me to a life of chemical processing.

Serenity now!

You ever have those moments when everything seems right with the world? I have them at the oddest times.
Case in point: Friday night, SBC Park. Hearing that man's voice, over that soaring music ("Bartender" was the tune in question), I just felt completely contented and entirely IN the moment. I can't quite explain why, but I'm grateful to have those moments.

But a moment to rant: why would you spend $60 to go someplace to spend all night talking on your cell phone, talking loudly with the people around you, running back and forth from the bar, and never really watching what's happening in front of you? Isn't it cheaper (and less annoying to the obsessive fans around you) to do that in a bar? Or at home?? Why, I ask you, WHY?? This was last night, when the crowd was much LESS cool.

Two great nights. I'm just saying.

One sweet world...

I have an exciting weekend ahead.
I'll be spending the next two evenings with a very special man who makes me laugh, sing, and dance.
This goes on for hours, and I am always spent by the end of the evening.
Actually, there are five men involved.
And many spectators.
I am, of course, talking about the Dave Matthews Band.
My friend Sherri and are will be seeing them tonight and tomorrow... and this time, we're taking her 13-year old daughter, which is really cute. I think it's adorable that she wanted to come with us, because it won't be long before she's too cool to hang out with her mom and her friend, the overgrown adolescent.
It also makes me feel very, very old...as Anais is just a few years younger than I was when I met her mom!
I think Sherri and I really bonded when people kept thinking we were the same person... even though we don't look at all alike. Okay, so we're both tall and have dark brown hair, but that's about it. I guess that was so rare in our school that people thought it couldn't be possible for TWO people at Mt. Carmel to look like that.
Oh, yeah... I guess it didn't help that we both had those rainbow shirts and red painter's paints that were so popular in the 'burbs of San Diego in the early 80's. I think we even wore them at the same time. Once. Or twice. Accidentally. Really. I stopped intentionally dressing like my friends in the 8th grade. (Remember those conversations? "I'll wear a dress tomorrow if you do..." What was THAT about??)
We don't dress alike anymore. And Sherri's daughter would probably laugh her ass off if she'd seen us dressed alike then.

Hallefrickinlujiah...

I never thought this day would come.
The work in my apartment is finished.... but (and there's always a but, isn't there??) they still owe me a towel rack in my bathroom. And somehow, the one they did put up is crooked. My friend Jim, who put it up in the first place, is not a professional, and HE managed to hang it properly...
Anyway, the bedroom looks really great, aside from all the paint splatters on the wood floors, and the whole project has forced me to do some de-cluttering, so it's all an improvement. And it's nice to feel like my home is really mine again.

This afternoon, I'll be seeing the man who taught me how to do radio many, many years ago. He's one of those guys who comes off like a tough teacher until you get to know him, and find out he's really a big softie at heart. In his office, he used to keep a list of all of his students who'd gotten jobs after taking classes at lovely Palomar College in not-so-lovely San Marcos. I always thought that was sweet.

Best haiku EVER!

i laugh at your pain
your pain is amusing me
ha ha, pain, ha ha

-- angela

If I were the kind of girl who'd say "LOL," this would be the time to say it (okay, type it.).
But I'm not that kind of girl. So instead... I'll just say... SNORTALICIOUS!

Man o' my dreams...

so funny and smart
i want to bear his children
my stephen colbert



If you're not a viewer of "The Daily Show," you should be. It really is the funniest show on TV. And no one makes me laugh harder than Mr. Colbert.
*Sigh.

Yippee, skippee!

My bathroom... is DONE! Well, almost. I have no towel rods, and I'll betcha they forgot about them... so I left a little note about that...as they are (allegedly) painting my bedroom as we speak.
I can't even tell you what a luxury it was to put things in my bathroom... you know, like soap, shampoo, a toothbrush, my blowdryer... and to LEAVE THEM THERE when I was finished using them. Oh. My. God. Three weeks of nomadic life in my own home... over!
Assuming they really DO finish my bedroom today, I'll be schlepping all my rugs to the laundromat....then dusting and mopping the hell out of everything.... then rehanging pictures and other decor... then moving my nightstands back into place.. hey... wait a minute.... I HATE HOUSEWORK!!

Hot town, summer in the city...

I know... I know..... I probably say this every August... but GOOD GOD, it's been foggy this summer! I know... I know... it's foggy EVERY summer, especially in my 'hood... but I think the difference this year is that we went straight from winter/spring stormage right into summer fog without much of the sunny, beautiful weather we usually get every spring.

I am a heat wimp. I'd much rather have chilly days than the hot weather that's baking much of the rest of the country (hell, the rest of the Bay Area, even.) . And I realize that what's "hot" to me is simply "nice" to normal people.
But jeez... can someone turn off the wind machine for awhile? And bring the sun, even for just a couple of days? When we were walking back to my home after dinner Friday evening, Kim remarked that she felt like she was back in Minnesota. In the winter. Yes, it was pretty freaking cold. And windy.

The poor tourists. We see it here every year -- misguided visitors who thought they were taking a summer trip to California, so they only packed shorts. They're the ones with the blue legs, trying to figure out why every cable car is passing them by, even though they're standing at what's supposed to be a cable car stop. If they brought warmer clothes, though, they'd put the city's entire ugly souvenir sweatshirt industry out of business.

@*&#!*! Monday!

What a rude return to the work week.
My bus didn't show up this morning, meaning the one that arrived ten minutes later was crowded...then it DIED on Nob Hill. It just up and died, and the driver couldn't even open the doors for a few minutes to let us all out. Yeah, that was fun. So I had to find a cab, because there was no way the busses would be running on the 1-California line any time soon with a dead one stuck in the middle of a narrow street. I practically had to strong-arm some dude who tried to get into the taxi I'd hailed. Nice.
Needless to say, I'm really happy I paid ten bucks to get to work today.

But that doesn't take away from the fun weekend I had, hanging out with Kimmy, having dinner with some friends of hers on Saturday night, then cocktailing at Dalva with a work pal of mine (Happy Birthday, Joe!). Yesterday, we checked out Kim's friend's jewelry show at this very cool combo coffeehouse/gallery space, then went over to Haight Street -- something I haven't done in years. Despite the foggy chill in the air, it was great fun.

A prediction: expect to see lots of stars-and-stripes pants at Burning Man this year, as they were all over Haight Street.

Deep thought of the day...

It is never okay to fart in a crowded bar. Ever.

Ummm....yeah....

Oh, they are SO not done with my apartment.
In fact, all they did yesterday was move some of my things around, prime the bedroom ceiling, and paint the trim in the bathroom.
I sure hope that wasn't a full day's work because, well, that's just sad.
But I had a lovely dinner out with el Prego Maria and Kimmy, and that was great fun. But there's nothing like forcing a guest to live in a construction zone....

Yaaaaaaaay, Friday!

I really need to join the rest of the world and get a camera phone. As I was walking to the bus stop after work yesterday, I saw a couple of hens running around that little open space area that's next to Embarcadero Three. No, really. I did. I have no idea what they were doing there, and I saw no human minders. They were just running amok! What the hell??

Anyway, things are looking up in my little corner of the world. When I get home today, I will have a freshly-painted bathroom and bedroom (not to mention a gargantuan clean-up job on my hands). They're even planning to paint the crown molding in the bedroom with a contrasting color! Oooh, fancy!
I also got some insight into why there's so much white debris crushed into my hardwood floors, as I finally met one of the workmen yesterday and watched him "clean up." Let's just say... it was a lot like watching my ex-husband attempt to clean house -- half-assed. But I appreciate the effort. By the workmen, not my ex.

And what's even more exciting is that I'm expecting a visit from my dear longtime (notice I'm not saying old) friend Kimmy (aka Bobo) this weekend! She's one of the funniest people on the planet, and I long ago forgave her for getting ME into trouble in English class when SHE was the one who was actually talking. Never mind that it was almost always me who was talking in that class. Or any other class. Our teacher was a bit neurotic about noise, so I wonder what made her decide that teaching high school was a good career for her. She was my teacher for a couple of classes during my high school years, and in each one, she ended up moving me to other seats, away from my friends, in a misguided attempt to shut me up... but what she never seemed to understand is that I would talk to whomever was seated around me, and make NEW friends -- like Kimmy, my friend Sherri (about whom you'll be hearing more next week), and the aforementioned ex. (Hey, can I blame HER for that??)
At any rate, there's much fun in my future! Hope there's fun in yours as well. Happy Friday!

Cuchi, cuchi!

I know.... the same title was used on The Realm today, but how else can you start a story about the one and only Charo??

When I booked her to come in for an interview, I thought it would be hilarious and totally cheesy, but I honestly had no idea the woman would be so friendly and so warm. She came into the newsroom and immediately made the rounds, greeting my co-workers, doing a little of her patented "cuchi cuchi" dance. I've never seen ANY of our guests run around here like that. People, the woman is 64...!
It was a riot. She was a hoot on the air, but I think it's fair to say she was just as much fun OFF the air, especially when she told us how happy she was the night before, saying "fuck" on stage while judging a Charo look-alike contest. (Apparently, her audiences are typically more... uh... CONSERVATIVE.. than the people who turned out at Trannyshack.)
She hugged us, she did the double-cheek kiss thing, she was adorable!
Whoda thunk she'd be such a delight? I'm totally serious when I say this: she brightened up our whole day.
By the way... the woman looks FABULOUS.

Deep thought of the day..

Why the hell are sponges so expensive? I mean, really. Is that necessary??

It's all about good health...

News item:

Sydney - Moderate drinkers make better thinkers than those who tipple too much or not at all, a new Australian study says.Verbal skills, memory and speed of thought were all faster and better in people who drank moderately compared to heavy drinkers and tee-totallers, according to tests done on 7 000 Australians.
Men who consume 14-28 alcoholic drinks a week and women who imbibe 7-14 glasses a week were classed as moderate drinkers.
--------------
Cocktails, anyone? Come on... it's GOOD FOR US!

p.s. You don't have to "log in" to make comments here. You can choose the "anonymous" option on the comments page... but do sign your name, if you would. I'd love to know who's here! Cheers.

Hmm, a haiku...

where, oh where, has the
handyman gone? awol now
for two days straight. hmmm.....

Quote of the day...

Overheard at work:

"Oh, wait, I don't have any cash for my underpants...."

WTF??

Who stole my hummus??

I placed a small Tupperware-esque container filled with yummy hummus to snack on in our scary fridge at work on Friday... and by Monday, it had disappeared.
I was stuck eating dry corn cakes (these are like rice cakes, only thinner... and, well, they're made with corn.)

Waaaaah.

But really... who takes what is clearly someone else's personal food container out of a communal fridge and eats the contents? How do they know I didn't lick it? Or worse?

Damned hummus stealer... BAH!

NARM!

News item:

WASHINGTON (AP) - President Bush sidestepped the Senate and installed embattled nominee John Bolton as ambassador to the United Nations on Monday, ending a five-month impasse with Democrats who accused Bolton of abusing subordinates and twisting intelligence to fit his conservative ideology.
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Apparently, those nine (!) doctors who gave Bush his physical this weekend and pronounced him "fit for duty" didn't include a mental evaluation.
Good move, Shrub.... making a top UN critic the nation's ambassador to the body. Smooth.

On another note, I have high hopes that my apartment will soon be back to normal. The bathroom ceiling is almost complete, and it looks like the room's ready for painting. Same with the bedroom. But I just noticed last night that Aussie handyman put my bedroom curtains up backwards.... And I will have to mop every inch of my hardwood floors once the work is done, to try to remove all the debris that's embedded into the grain.

SPOILER ALERT!
If you're a "Six Feet Under" fan, and haven't seen this week's episode ("Ecotone") STOP READING NOW. I'm serious. Don't come crying to me about spoiling anything if you keep reading beyond this point...

They had to do it. I knew they had to do it to be true to the tone of the show. I was even getting annoyed during the course of last night's episode because it looked like they WEREN'T going to do it. So why did I cry when they actually killed off Nate?
RIP, my TV boyfriend...