Hello Minotaur
The initial thinking from the doc is that I have a condition called labrynthitis, which is the sensation caused by running in a large maze with a horned creature in the middle. Or something like that. Actually, it's some kind of inner ear condition that is offsetting my balance and causing vertigo. I am on a glorified form of dramamine. If the condition doesn't clear up by Monday, I have to go back in to the doctor for more testing.

So I have all weekend to fret about it! Wonderful!

I came in to the office and now I'm regretting it. Both staring at the computer screen (which, admittedly, I'd be doing at home anyway) and the various office noises aren't really helping with the dizziness. Come on, dramamine, do your thing!

Kind of makes you wonder
I was just on the phone with the nurseline for my health insurance, asking them about some dizziness that I've been having over the past few days. They went through the usual litany of questions, and I got the usual "could you be pregnant" one, but then they asked if I had come into contact with anyone who had the SARS virus. That's a new one.

And the end result was that they had no idea what was causing my dizziness. I'll be visiting my doctor's office tomorrow morning. I hope it's not a toomah!

Shout outs
Because I'm lazy, I have a bunch of random stuff that I'm going to direct at certain readers, rather than hunting down e-mails, because, oh yeah, I already said it: I'm lazy.

So here goes:

Copsister: I want to send your tape back to you but I have misplaced the slip of paper with your address on it. Can you e-mail it to me at the address at the top of this page? I admit -- it was in a bad place -- on the living room floor, near the TV. When I went to look for it this morning, my husband's shoes and socks were in the exact place where the piece of paper was. So I have no idea what happened to it, because it would be very out of character for him to actually throw something away! [/end gripe]

Green Tuna: I thought you would be happy to know that someone visited my site after searching for "imitation marshmallow peeps." Perhaps they visited yours as well?

Babyfishfel: Up until yesterday I thought it was "Babyfishel" without the second "f". Don't ask me why. I have changed my link accordingly.

Anyone concerned about the goings on in my office: Bad Lady has a new secret nickname. I can't take credit for coming up with the name. We have been referring to her as "Hack 'n' Mumbles" (pronounced Hackenmumbles) because she has been frequently producing a dry, hacking cough, and because she is the only human being I know who can carry on a 15 minute phone call without pronouncing an actual word.

Jasmine Trias: Congratulations, you're the next American Idol!

And one more:

For those of you expecting a post-American Idol rant, I bring you this instead:
I have a fairly long commute to work. And most of it is spent on our wonderful Ohio Turnpike. Many of you are familiar with this stretch of road. It takes you to such wonderful destinations as Pennsylvania (going East), Toledo, Detroit and Indiana (going west) and along the way, stretches across many, many acres of farm land. On my stretch, not so much. My stretch of turnpike is actually quite beautiful. It goes over the Cuyahoga river and the Cuyahoga Valley National Park.

Taking the turnpike to and from work, five days a week, for upwards of three years, means that I see a lot of the same faces in the toll booth. A lot of them recognize me. There are some turnpike workers who I like more than others. For instance, there's Mr. Friendly, a surly man who barely utters a grunt while taking my ticket and my EZ Pass card. There's Gorbechev, who, minus the large birthmark, resembles the former Russian leader. There's Overly Perky in the Morning Woman, who always has a big grin for me when I want to ram my Corolla into someone's bumper, and there's Gigantic Asshole Bastard, who I hate because he always tells me to "smile!" when all I want to do is get home and away from his freaking tollbooth.

Well this morning, a new character was added to my repertoire of tollbooth friends. This guy shall heretofore be known as Shouting Man. "HELLO!" he boomed at me this morning while taking my ticket. Then, when he gave it back to me, "HAVE A NICE DAY!"

Yikes. That's a little more than a girl can take at 8:15 a.m. Know what I'm sayin'?

Out of office
Well, I woke up this morning feeling somewhat akin to crap, so I took one of my coveted sick days. I always feel guilty taking a sick day, even if I know that I don't have anything pressing that someone else will need to look at or work on. I probably could have gone in. But... I'm glad I didn't.

Then I dread hearing the phone ring because I think it could be my boss. And he might want something.

At the same time, when the phone doesn't ring, I begin to think that it doesn't make a difference whether or not I'm there. They don't need me! Oh no! I need to feel needed!

OK, not that much. I'm glad for the day of rest. I needed it, maybe more mentally than physically.

Old school
This weekend I traveled back in time about six years and visited my alma mater. It's an annual pilgrimage made by myself and one of my former roommates. We go during a certain festival week whereupon they close down the main street and several vendors from different multicultural organizations open up little booths on the street and sell food, jewelry, and miscellaneous other things. There's music, dancing and plenty of people watching (the last being the most interesting).

Among the people I saw: our super sketchy roommate who sublet in our house during the summer between junior and senior year. The entire summer he had one bath towel that he never washed. It stank to high holy heaven. Seriously, it may have been the worst stank I have ever laid my nostrils upon. Our tactic was to avoid him like the dickens. He also had a huge falling out with me and my roommate that summer, saying we were "shallow" -- this being a couple days after he asked me out and I rejected him. OK, yeah, I'm a little bit shallow. I admit it. But it's OK for me to say it, it's NOT OK for someone else to tell me that. Anyway, I can think of few people I'd rather not run into than him.

I also saw from afar T Diddy's brother sitting at the window table of Bagel Street Deli (please confirm or deny).

There were a ton of other people who looked familiar, but I don't know if it's whether I actually knew them or because they looked similar to people I knew when I went there.

It's always fun to go back there. We slip back into our personas from when we were students. We feel young but old at the same time. Our hangouts are closed, under new management, named different names, turned into tshirt stores. In fact, we were in a tshirt store that used to be a bar called The Dugout when we went there. But another group of alums, 2002 grads, came in and recalled that when they went there, the bar was called Mama Einstein's. It made us feel even older.

We drove back down by our old dorms, looked into the windows of where we lived ten years ago. We noticed all the classroom buildings where we spent most of our days. We both regretted not being more involved while we were there. We spent so much time sitting on our asses, doing nothing. I wish that I had done more with my free time. Although, I did have a blast, come to think of it.

It's always sad to leave town after one of our trips. There's never enough time to see everything we want to see, eat everything we want to eat, drive past all the places we want to reminisce about. I know I'll go back there every year, sometimes more than that, and each time I'll feel a little bit more detached, a little bit more nostalgic. But for those few hours, I swear, it's like the town has been waiting for me, to show me some of its new secrets, and to assure me that no matter how long I'm away, it will still feel like home when I come back.

Octoporn
I was enjoying reading the story about the octopus getting it on today. But man, give the couple a little privacy! This isn't the Paris Hilton tape. Jeez!

Stop clownin' around
On the main MSN page this morning is a rather disturbing picture of a Ronald McDonald lookalike in the back of a police car, frowning and waving to onlookers. I don't know if I have previously mentioned my fear and general heebie jeebies toward clowns, but Ronald McDonald is at the top of my list of freaky red-wigged dudes who like kids. So every time I click on Internet Explorer (read: every 5 minutes), I get to see that unnerving vision. The story itself is kind of amusing, it deals with a Greenpeace member who chained himself to a Mickey D's distribution center to protest the fast food chain's practice of feeding genetically altered food to their chickens. Mmm. McNuggets.

Clowns of all sorts have always scared me. I trace it back to the Stephen King novel, "It," which I read in seventh grade, and then the made-for-TV movie based on that novel, starring Tim Curry as the scary-ass clown. Ever since then, clowns have been evil, horrifying and just really give me the wiggins.

There was also a mime that really freaked me out. He worked at Sea World of Ohio, which exists no longer, at the Sea Lion and Otter show. He was the whole deal, the black and white striped shirt, trapping himself in a box, wrong-ass mime. As a young'un, I never wanted to sit in the front rows during that show because he would come over and do his mime thing and it would just really put a damper on my otherwise lovely day with Shamu.

My mime hatred healed a little during Big Brother 4 when the mime entered the house and taunted Alison, Robert and Jun. That mime is OK by me. But he does not erase my years and years of anti-mimeism.

This is actually a common fear... anyone else care to step up and admit that they can't stand the sight of a big-shoe wearin', red mouthed, multicolor haired man in thrift store clothing?

Restoring my faith in humanity
Finally, America got it right and awarded the man beast, Rupert, with a million bucks. Still doesn't quite remedy the LaToya snafu, but hey, I'm glad that Rupert is sitting on a cool mill now.

Even better was Jeff calling Jerri out on the carpet. I could have watched him go at it with her for the majority of the hour. Jeff was in rare form, that's for sure.

The worst moment of the night was seeing Johnny Fairplay in the audience, and THEN letting him speak. He is still one of the most vile human beings on the planet.

So until September, we are Survivor-less. Withdrawal will kick in in approximately 5... 4... 3... 2...

Please let spandex be next
Don't our nation's lawmakers have better things to be worrying about than this? Not that I'm saying it's a bad thing. I certainly don't like seeing young girl's butt cracks, nor do I like seeing the underwear-clad buttocks of guys wearing jeans so low they're around the ankles. Well, maybe I don't mind those buttocks as much as I mind the girls' cracks, but you get the point.

Honestly, though, why stop with the low-slung, ass-baring pants? Let's also ban spandex, anything that starts with the word "tube," and also, while we're at it, let's ban people from wearing shirts that reveal the belly button and its surrounding areas.

What am I forgetting? There must be other fashion atrocities that, if lawmakers are willing to sponsor a bill, we can eliminate as well.

What a crock
I'm so done with American Idol. So. Done.
I guess it's like the presidential election, though, if you don't vote, you don't get to complain. I didn't vote for LaToya on Tuesday. So I guess it's partially my fault that she's gone.

Oh well. Perhaps the American Idol producers will have to think about changing the way the voting is done after Jasmine wins and they are forced to give a mediocre singer a record contract.

What I really watched
Last night I learned that even with my back to the TV, I could still follow what was going on on "24." The only time I turned around to look was when the daughter ran back to Tony and then all the shooting started. But that was, what, the last few minutes of the show?

Then I tuned in to the Game Show Network (now known just by its much hipper "GSN") to see a rerun of season one of "The Mole." I won't give anything away, but Kathryn is the mole. And Steven wins. But it's still fun to watch, because a) Anderson Cooper is hilarious, and b) knowing who the mole is makes it more interesting.

I saw a little bit of American Idol. I saw Jasmine's first performance (meh) and then missed everyone else's first, and then tuned in again just in time to see Jasmine crying after her performance. What happened? I'm assuming Simon said something insensitive. Everyone else was just OK. I liked LaToya's performance, but I always do. And I disliked Fantasia and Diana's performances. I wasn't even looking at the TV and I still couldn't stand them. And Fantasia really should just keep her mouth shut at all times when she isn't singing.

Don't forget to vote for your favorite Survivor All-Star to win a million! There's still time!

Extreme Makeover
I am experiencing a bit of blogger envy. I'm checking out sites like Green Tuna's, Mensch's, and Tracie's, and they are all looking fabulous! But then there's mine which is still pea/camoflauge green and orange. Not so attractive.

*sigh*

I'm too chicken shit to change mine! I don't want to lose my comments!

I guess I need to grow a pair and just do it.

Later.

Maybe tomrrow.

Or something.

Hot stuff
Can I just say that I really don't give two shits about the rest of the American Idol season? OK. I will. I don't give two shits about the rest of the American Idol season. Tonight, we'll see some Donna Summers tunes, which I'm sure will include "Hot Stuff" (Fantasia), "Last Dance" (Jasmine?), "She Works Hard for the Money" (LaToya) and god only knows what Diana will do. I'm just guessing, by the way. And I also couldn't think of another Donna Summers song to save my life.

We all know that the final two are going to be Fantasia (boooooo) and LaToya (yayyyyyy). But honestly, beyond that, who cares? Does anyone think that either of these two are going to have the kind of success that Clay Aiken, Kelly Clarkson, and to a lesser extent, Ruben Studdard, have enjoyed?

Or will they be more along the lines of a Justin Guarini type of success? Which is to say, none at all?

This means war
The office battle this morning is between my department and the tech department. They hate us anyway. We have all different software than everyone else, and it causes them problems for god knows what reason.

Anyway, we are getting ready to launch our new website, and for whatever reason, Tech Dweeb #1 needs to print 900 pages of screen shots of the site on our department's color printer. I'm not exaggerating. I went to the printer and it was printing page 398 of 900 and had died.

This isn't Kinko's. If you have that much shit to print, print it black and white. Don't waste our toner and paper with that nonsense. Why does it have to be in color? For what purpose must it be printed? It's on the Internet.

So we're stuck waiting for our stuff to come out after the 900th page prints. That is, IF we have paper left.

Of note
~I just became a little bit less in debt, as I made the last payment toward my previous leased car. Never lease a car if you can avoid it. Sure, the monthly payments are lower, but at the end, you find out that they can tack on all these extra charges for excess wear and tear, excess mileage (OK, so I went over by quite a bit) and mine even had a "lease termination fee." To the tune of just under $2000. I had to make nine monthly payments of $220 to pay it off, and the last one was just paid today. Go me! Now I only have one car payment to make instead of two! $220 more bucks a month to go toward my credit cards! Or to actually pay bills on time!

~Last night I purchased the domain name for www.thesketchfactor.com. Now I just need to figure out what to do with it.

~It is definitely a Wendy's mandarin chicken salad day.

~Oh, and one more thing... I got Cops' tape of the OC finale and last week's Survivor in the mail! Woot! I will watch it tonight after I get my (fabulous) haircut.

Some assistance, por favor
For all of you who blog, I've noticed that some of you have your own domain names (e.g. www.tv-junkie.com. Because I'm on an anti-blogger rampage, I checked into typepad. I even went so far as to create this little prototype, but I want my domain to be www.thesketchfactor.com or something similar. Do I have to pay extra $$$ for that? Anybody know? TVJ? I'm just askin'.

Still no digital camera. I am dying to take pics! I hope I have it by this weekend so I can take it with me on my little road trip down to my alma mater. More on that later after my BloggeRage dies down a bit.

3:23
This is truly the worst time of day. It's the point in the day where someone always remarks, "Wow, this day went fast!" or "Wow, this day is really dragging!"

For me, the mid 3 o'clock hour is always when I start to crash and burn. Whether I'm chugging away at a huge project (like today) or I'm working on various minor stuff, it always seems to be done by 3:30. There's still plenty of time to start something else, but I don't really want to. Then I start thinking that I want a snack. Or I start thinking about what I want for dinner. Or if anyone has posted anything new that I didn't already read at 3.

And for the record, I am not dealing well with the new Blogger.

The Big Ass Twist
Argh. Blogger changed their layout. Have I mentioned that I DO NOT LIKE CHANGE??? *does the Howard Dean yell*

Where to even start discussing last night's Survivor finale? You had the big proposal *coughMikeBoogiecough* and all the drama, Rupert giving his man-beast yell to the crowd yet one more time, much to their delight, Shii Ann (for reasons I still don't quite understand) winning a car, and the obligatory Jeff Probst vote sequence in the helicopter.

I have to say, it was some exciting television. From the jury speeches (get over it already, Lex!), to Jerri's stupid wah-wah-focus on me blather at the reunion show, to Big Tom's refusal to shake Boston Rob's hand ("Don't be stupid, stupid!)... it was just great.

I've already voted on cbs.com for who I want to win the second million dollars. I'll give you a hint: tie dye.

So, as I said, there's a painful hiatus between shows now, but, as Green Tuna has informed us, it's one month and 28 days until Big Brother. Sharpen that snark, folks!

Finale night
Don't forget that tonight is Survivor finale night. Who will be the winner? Boston Rob? Amber? Rupert? Jenna?

After Survivor ends, we must turn our thoughts toward the premiere of our favorite summertime programming: Big Brother. It's almost Hamster Time again people!

Search this
I am really appreciating that my ad banner is showing related searches of "eye twitch" and "survivor news."

Oops I Did It Again
Wednesday night, my husband blew it with the VCR. Last night, I blew it.
I went to the Indians game and was not home in time for my usual television viewing. In the morning, I set the VCR, allegedly, to tape Survivor.

When I got home, I turned on the VCR to rewind the tape and realized that it was set to our local Fox station. That's because, brilliant me, I set it to tape Fox instead of CBS. So I think I have an hour of "COPS" on tape, in case anyone wants it.

I should never be trusted to do anything before 11 a.m.

E-Bay Newbie
I have a question for those of you more experienced with E-Bay: I just bid on, and won, a digital camera. (For $45 including shipping! It's probably a piece of crap!)

I paid for it through PayPal, so that is all taken care of.

What happens now? Does the seller get in touch with me or does the item just ship? I want my camera... NOW. This is going to benefit all of you because I mostly plan on using the camera to take random pictures and post them here. And will just about guarantee that most of my work day will be spent posting... oh wait, it already is.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming
As you may have gleaned from the skit, there was a bit of miscommunication last night between my husband and I regarding the taping of certain television programs.

Not only did I call him to remind him, but I e-mailed and asked if he could "please please please please please please one hundred times" tape the shows for me.

I met a friend for dinner last night and was not in home in time to view my shows.

I walked in the house at 9:53 to find him on the couch watching the Indians game. The VCR was not in motion.

"Are you taping my shows?" I asked, truly, truly feeling panicky.

I know he felt bad. He apologized. He sulked. He fell to the floor and Domino attacked him. But then he offered up this nugget, which he thought would make it all better: "But I cut the grass!"

Season finale of OC. Having freshly-cut grass? Isn't going to make the episode reappear. George Huff's swan song? Not available in my back yard.

Not that I'm bitter or anything.

Batten down the hatches
SCENE: The interior of a large control room. Each wall is covered with large control panels with large monitors and many buttons.

Many RANDOM GUYS are seated around the control panels, turning dials and staring intently at the monitors.

THE CAPTAIN enters.

CAPTAIN: I'd like everyone's attention please. Everyone? I've just had a rather ... disturbing report.

The RANDOM GUYS shift uncomfortably in their seats.

CAPTAIN: As you all know, we have been monitoring Kat's mood in the past few weeks and trying to regulate it. We've been successful thus far, but --

(The camera pans to a close-up of the face of RANDOM GUY #1, who appears both frightened and pensive.)

CAPTAIN: This could change everything. (close-up of captain's face, with a grave expession. He pauses for several seconds.) I've just learned that Kat's 10 year high school reunion is next month.

RANDOM GUY #1: Sir, should I press the panic button?

CAPTAIN: Not yet. Let's see how she takes the news.

RANDOM GUY #2 has a large bottle of pills. He downs the entire bottle and goes into convulsions for several seconds before going limp.

RANDOM GUY #3 is standing near a large plate glass window which was not seen in the first interior shot of the control room. He takes a running leap through the window and we hear an "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" as he plummets down several stories and hits the ground.

RANDOM GUY #4 has soiled himself.

RANDOM GUY #5: (rocking back and forth in chair) Go to your happy place. Go to your happy place.

CAPTAIN: Gentlemen! I think it's going to be OK! Kat has a month to process this information and prepare herself for this event. I think we should give her the benefit of the doubt.

RANDOM GUY #1: But she wanted to lose fifteen pounds, have a bestselling novel as well as a nice car and a husband who doesn't forget to tape the American Idol results show and the OC season finale!

CAPTAIN: It's too late for all that, and she knows it. Maybe the fifteen pounds thing. I hear the grapefruit diet works well.

RANDOM GUY #6: But she hates grapefruit! (he begins to hyperventilate)

RANDOM GUY #7: Get a hold of yourself, Random Guy #6! (he slaps Random Guy #6)

CAPTAIN: Allright, here's my plan. Random Guy #1, please program Bad Lady's radio so that no Bette Midler songs come on today. Random Guy #4, change your pants and report back here immediately. Random Guy #5, stop watching that infernal 'Peanut Butter Jelly Time' thing. #6 and #7, I need you to start typing into your keyboards as if you are really really busy! And I'll handle the rest.

The CAPTAIN smiles ominously as he exits the control room. But where is he going, and what is his plan?

TO BE CONTINUED...

And a bunch of other short things that I glommed into one post:
1. Is anyone else excited for the season finale of the O.C. tonight? Just me? OK then.

2. My sis-in-law has some kind of connection to get us backstage passes when John Mayer is in town. *thinks of clever thing to say to him to avoid being a blubbering asshole*
*also does not get hopes up as s-i-l is flake and the connection is sketchy*

3. The eye twitch has become an entire side of the face twitch. Just really the side of my nose, so I'm doing a little bit of a "Samantha from Bewitched" kind of thing. Tink-a-tink-a-tink! Wish I could do the nose twitch thing and make Bad Lady disappear.

Tacos, burritos, nachos
Yeah. I ate lunch today. My sandwich and two apples.
That didn't stop me from then eating two tacos, two brownies, and three cookies.
You see, it's Cinco de Mayo. (That's Spanish for "sink of mayonaise") So to celebrate, my office had a little Mexican potluck lunch thing, and everyone was encouraged to bring in a dish.

I'm a non-participator in those kinds of reindeer games. I don't own a crock pot, I have no cooking skills whatsoever, and usually I'm too lazy or too poor to even buy a bag of Chips Ahoy and pretend that I made them.

So I'm one of those kinds of people. I don't participate, but then I sneak down when the festivities are over and eat all the leftovers. I know it's despicable, but I am what I am.

I wish all of you a happy Cinco de Mayo. May the lemons in your Coronas be seedless.

Don't you sass back at me
Watch out, folks, and hold on to your firewalls, because the Sasser worm is comin' to get ya. It appently is so prevalent that if you don't have a firewall you will probably get it. I have no idea what a firewall is or what it does but I made sure that my home computer had its firewall all prepped and ready to deflect this sassy worm and send it careening back to the cyber wormhole from which it came.

All of us Windows users are vulnerable to it. So if you have Windows and haven't protected yourself against sassafras yet, go to microsoft.com and get yourselves some duck tape, plywood, bottled water, and a firewall.

I don't know if the sassypants worm got into my computer but something did, and now my main hotmail account, not the one listed above, but another one, has been randomly sending viruses out. The Daemon keeps e-mailing me to tell me that my attachment was suspicious. I don't usually send messages from this account so I'm not sure what it's even talking about. I changed my password, though, and even after that, it sent out suspicious attachments. And not even to people in my address book, just to randoms. So I'm a little concerned that someone has usurped my account to infect other PC's.

My main suspect is this weird dude who has been bugging me via e-mail ever since I posted a comment in someone's blog about toes. How toes are freaky or something. I think he has a foot fetish, and so he has periodically been sending me some provocative toe photos. Not the blog author, mind you, just some totally random guy who happened to read the comment. Don't worry, it wasn't your blog. Or yours.

Or maybe it's just the sasquatch worm, working its magic. I don't know. Just be aware, put your firewalls up, and it's all going to be OK.

Could I BE more over it?
While many of us are going to be watching someun get the boot tomorrow night on Survivor, a whole legion of Americans will be boo-hooing over their favorite show, Friends, and its final hurrah.

I will still watch the reruns when they're on the WB during pre-dinner hours. But I lost interest years ago, probably when I was forced to choose between my favorite reality show and my favorite sitcom. Sorry, Ross. I think it was you who drove me away.

Ross' character became too pathetic, too whiney, and too, I don't know, meh.

Now that it's almost over, I'm curious to see how it will end. Actually, even though I haven't watched, I still know that Chandler and Monica are adopting a child, or something, and that Phoebe got married, and that Rachel and Ross have a child together, and that Matt LeBlanc is going to milk his character for as far as it takes him. I guess I'm still interested enough to see how it all winds up.

During the commercials of Survivor.

Edited to add subliminal message

House rules
As HOH, I have made an executive decision. The door to the laundry room hereby is closed and shall remain closed until further notice, or until management deems it appropriate to open it again.

A certain four-legged creature who shall remain nameless has gotten out of control with his laundry room scavenger hunts. This morning, I found a pile of dirty laundry outside of the bathroom. Thinking my lazy-ass husband had left it there, I went to grab it and throw it down the chute. I realized that it was actually my stuff. Two shirts and two (non-matching) socks. And then in the kitchen: another shirt, a washcloth and a hand towel.

My poor little deranged kitty is just going to have to find a new game to play.

WTF
In the huhhhh? department, Green Tuna has made my day by unearthing this gem. I don't know if it ever ends, but I watched it, did a LOL ROFLMAO, got up, watched it again, did a little chair dance that involved the swim and the robot, and then watched it a third time. It's just that good.

Speaking of Survivor...
Last night's episode contained possibly the best Survivor quote, ever. That honor goes to Big Tom Buchanan, and I'm going to try and translate from hillbilly speak to the king's English... aw hell, I'll just leave it in hillbilly speak...

"I was hopin' it was gun be 'is mother... er... the neighbor's ... sister..."
-Tom on winning the reward challenge, which allowed his son Bucky Bo to spend the night at the Chapera swanked-up camp and go on a massive drinking and pizza eating binge.

Betwitched
Yes, I think it's fairly safe to say that the eye twitch is back, it's kicking ass and taking names. Oh, I feel so freaky. I can't look at anyone in the eye, because I'm afraid that my scary eye malfunction will scare them away.

"Did you see that weird eye twitching girl? What's the deal with her eye? I mean, it just... twitches!" [/jerry seinfeld voice]

I'm sitting on the couch, watching Survivor last night, and my eye is just twitching like there's no tomorrow. My husband tells me to stop stressing out. But I'm watching Survivor. On the couch. I'm not stressing. I know who's getting voted off. I know who wins reward. I know that Jeff Probst is going to say "the tribe has spoken." Right now my life is good.

This morning I thought the twitch was gone, but as I'm getting closer and closer to my place of employment, the twitching gets more intense. It feels like popcorn is popping inside my eyelid.

That's why I'm declaring today to be Dress Like a Pirate at Work Day. That way, if I wear an eyepatch, I won't feel like I should go live on an island with other freaky weird twitchy people and talk about twitchy things and eat twitchy foods and watch twitchy television.

Yes, I'll have the burger... without the bun... or the meat...
Today's post is brought to you by the Center for Eye Twitch Research.

I admit, this week, my brain has been operating at minimal capacity. (Insert your cutting insult about my general intelligence here.) So instead of bursting with ideas for posts, I have been struggling with the blogging this week. Big time.

So today I have stolen an idea from someone. That person has a blog that I started reading via Freeepeace, who I started reading via Grace. See how that works? It's like 6 degrees of blog separation. Annnnyway... He wrote today about vegetarians, who personally, I have nothing against. Two of my college roommates were vegans, which is a zealous offshoot of vegetarianism.

I just could never do it. I love meat. Delicious meat. Burgers on the grill, man, you can't beat it. I love chicken. Fried, baked, breaded, grilled, nuggeted, shredded, just not in a can, please. That stuff is heinous.

Plus, I've tasted veggie burgers, and that shit is repellant. I have huge issues with food consistency, and veggie burgers just have a weird consistency. Certain food textures skeeve me out. For instance, tomato skin. Don't ask me why -- but I cannot swallow a raw tomato if the skin is on it. It's physically impossible. I once tried duck and the texture was too much for me to handle. Certain kinds of mushrooms are too slippery. I can't even look at a piece of fish without my gag reflex kicking in.

OK, too much information, I guess. Sorry about that.

This is not a spoiler
All I'm going to say about Survivor tonight is that Big Tom has a son who goes by the name of Bucky Bo. I think.
As to who goes, I won't say because I know it infuriates some of you. But come on, let's think about it for a minute. Would it really be spoiiliing anythiing to say who iis goiing toniight?

Ii diidn't thiink so.

I pulled an IBL
We've had a bit of a stressful morning here at the office. We found out that one of our coworkers has to go on at least two weeks of bed rest due to high blood pressure, which is affecting her pregnancy. She may even have to go on bedrest for the rest of her pregnancy (end of July is her due date).

So anyway, after all of her jobs were divvied up, I was talking with a coworker about how pleasant it's been to work here in the past few weeks and how the excitement never stops, and then I walked back to my desk and, out loud, sang a little "La La."

That's when I realized, I had become Incompetent But Likeable. That's his M.O. He constantly walks around going "Bum bum bum bum," and "Ba ba ba ba ba" and "Dum de dum de dum."

So I was smiling to myself about it when speak of the devil, IBL comes rambling out of his cube and asks me what I'm smiling about. "Oh, nothing," I say. I can't exactly share it with him.

Yeah. So everything's peachy here, I'm turning into IBL, my eye is twitching, and the best part? My boss doesn't know yet about the coworker. In T minus 45 minutes he'll be back in the office, and I guarantee, he will flip his motherlovin' lid. Stay tuned folks!

America put down the crack pipe
And voted out the correct person. John Stevens looked like he'd had enough, the poor little guy. Buck up, little camper, you've got a bright future ahead of you. It might be a future of being the lounge act at the Binion's Horseshoe casino, but hey, someone's gotta do it, right?

Now, a bit of admonishment for the still-alive contestants. First, a slap on the wrist for Fantasia. STOP with the crocodile tears! Are you telling me that when this is over, you're going to hang out with John? Wrong. No one's buying it. You want the votes, that's it.

Second, George. George, George, George. You make weird faces, and you need to stop. Your "sad" face, your "surprised" face, your "nervous" face... cease and desist. Penalty: the voteoff. It's comin' for you, George, it knows where you live.

Diana: I'm with Simon, that "car wash" dress was a train wreck. I kept watching the flaps sway back and forth, back and forth, and was hoping we weren't going to get a full frontal flash. Too much skin for a 16 year old to be showing anyway. And also, please, during big band week, don't do a song that has the words "Boogie" or "Woogie" in the title. That's all I'm sayin'.

And, this "group A" and "group B" crap? It's crap.

I've been googled
Thanks to Grace, I found my entertainment for the day: Googlism.

I did "Kathy" but that list was too long to share. Then I did "Kat" and here are the fun answers it gave me. Note the German ones, which are the best. I have outlined my favorites in blue. Too bad I have no clue what they say. Anyone know their Deutsch?

kat is onzindelijk met ontlasting
kat is opgehaald?
kat is not happy
kat is de tijger
kat is
kat is where its at
kat is a brat
kat is weggelopen
kat is furious
kat is daydreaming' by murray perry
kat is my religion
kat is drowning cowboys
kat is you around??? iz left ya a masage at da talk bawd
kat is walking towards me
kat is blah blah blah
kat is weird
kat is erg schrikachtig
kat is te dik
kat is de
kat is back
kat is alweer zwaarder
kat is drawing cowboys
kat is back posted on saturday
kat is you around??? iz left ya a masage at da talk bawd ok???? mg
kat is the only musician taking authentic classical music scores
kat is the only genius since beethoven to systematically resurrect classical music and bring it to the moron masses and
kat is ancient
kat is currently looking at
kat is moving on in her life
kat is a richly yellow wine quite distinguished by its unmistakable muscat aroma
kat is still around
kat is looking for work
kat is what's for dinner tonight posts
kat is telling her
kat is very unstable after telling zoe she is her mother
kat is ready to work
kat is obsessed with taking tests
kat is very shy and talks very little
kat is a juilliard music school graduate on the violin and i studied theory
kat is one feisty
kat is for ornament
kat is much funnier with her running commentary
kat is directed by ann rappoport
kat is to operate a comprehensive transportation system with a professional work force that provides efficient
kat is a neighborhood shuttle service operating during the evenings and sunday when the night rider/sunday rider service runs
kat is het ideale gezelschapsdier
kat is really her mum
kat is hit in the leg while bringing food
kat is now on a path to take classical music into the 21st century with metal through the use of midi instruments
kat is the reincarnation of beethoven and is changing the face of classical music by bringing it to the masses using metal
kat is my open honest sweet secret soul girlboy woman
kat is like me first marriage
kat is a surefire winner
kat is kids and technology
kat is here
kat is god
kat is always worth listening to
kat is being written in the object
kat is hard to measure
kat is more your type
kat is niet ouder dan 10 jaar
kat is een idealist
kat is being introduced to her new classmates
kat is meer gehecht aan het huis dan aan z'n baasje"
kat is besmettelijk voor andere katten en mag daarom niet naar buiten
kat is a juilliard graduate violin virtuoso
kat is the brown
kat is a very smart kat
kat is ready to strike terror into the eyes and ears of all
kat is veel duidelijker te zien hoe het dier is uitgegroeid en hoe het karakter van de kat is
kat is 150 gram by weight and she is yelling much louder than i
kat is the world's fastest cyberspeed guitarist
kat is from the real world's fourth season
kat is vooral bij de eerste generatie
kat is a sophisticated yet comfortable lounge offering elegant dining
kat is giving heavy metal a new face
kat is minimaal 14 jaar
kat is onzindelijk
kat is the bestselling author of twenty
kat is doing with her symphonic speed music then go listen to the genius masterpieces first
kat is a juilliard school of music graduate violin virtuoso
kat is probably the most inventive
kat is in lock mode this is in quad cell units
kat is wounded near the end

Don't blame me, I voted for LaToya
Tonight I actually voted for an American Idol contestant. This is not the first time, either. It's the first time this season, though. Last season, I admit, I voted for Clay and Ruben.

Last night I got through three times to vote for LaToya. I think she is the best singer in the competition, and if for some odd reason she gets sent home, it will be a huge travesty.

I taped tonight's show and watched it afterward, which made for much less painful viewing. Acts such as Fantasia, John and Diana were enjoyed on fast forward, no sound. It was better that way. George even got a little FF when he started going off-key (read: right away).

I'll miss the results tomorrow night but I trust someone will fill me in on the goings on?

Perspective
I had been getting myself worked up this morning. I was pissed, I didn't want to be here, I felt that everything here was bass-ackwards and that I was fed up.

OK, well, I am still all of those things.

But I was standing by the printer, smoke coming out of my ears, when Incompetent But Likeable strolled into the copy room. He asked, "What's the matter, Bunky?" And I told him that I was just frustrated and gave him a little bit of detail as to why.

He said to me, "You want to know why I'm in such a good mood today?"
"Why," I asked.
"Because I'm frustrated too for some of the same reasons and I figured there's no sense in getting worked up about it like I did last week. It's not worth it. So I figured I'd just throw it in their face and be happy."

And that's why he gets the "but Likeable" moniker. It snapped me out of my funk. He's right. There's nothing here that's worth me getting myself pissed about. It's a job. That doesn't mean that I like it, but things could be worse. Right?

Help
There comes a point during each work day where my eyes feel as though they are going to bug out of my head, that if I click on "Internet Explorer" one more time I'll shoot myself, and that mybrainisgoingtoexplode and my friends that point is now.

Can I get a witness?
While I go through my semi-annual crisis of wanting to change careers, quit my job, move to California, or just become a blackjack dealer in Vegas, I have decided that it would be cool to be the world's leading expert on some random thing. You know, the ancient relic they drag out of his/her coffin whenever they need someone to give an opinion on the Battle of Little Big Horn. That kind of deal.

So far, these are the topics I know a lot about:
1. Reality Television
2. 80's music

So I'm thinking I could make myself out to be an expert on one of those topics. Maybe write a book or something. I think if you write a book, you immediately become an expert. I could score some gigs on Vh-1, maybe get to meet Jeff Probst, something like that.

Home improvement

Frank: I told my wife I wouldn't drink tonight. Besides, I got a big day tomorrow. You guys have a great time.
College Student: A big day? Doing what?
Frank: Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we're going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time.

-Will Farrell's character from the movie "Old School"

Yes, it's sad when our big plan for the day involves going to look at some paint swatches, gardening items and such. But this is my big excitement. We need to find some edging for our vegetable garden; and I heard my husband say earlier, "I wish it would stop raining. All I want to do is cut the grass."

Is something wrong with us or what?

Oh baby
With a year of marriage successfully under our belts, the question in most of our family's minds has begun to surface and rear its ugly little fricking head:

When will you two be having a baby?

Or, if you're my mom, the question is:

When will I have a grandchild that's not a cat???

Well, mom, I can tell you this: we are discussing the possibility of getting a dog, so your wait may not be too long.

Ahem. The baby thing.

It's on my mind, certainly, as a lot of people at work are "in the family way." And who knows, it may happen soon, although we aren't planning on it.

My grandmother has had a baby outfit in her possession for two years, and is waiting for either my cousin or myself to give birth to the first great-grandchild, and it's also in her will that the first of us to birth the first great-grandchild shall be bequeathed said baby outfit. She brings it up at each family occasion. My cousin is younger than I, and although she is dating someone seriously, there are no plans for marriage or children as far as I know. So the heat is on me, and me alone.

There are many concerns to be weighed. The financial issue is a biggie. The bottom line: we ain't got no money. Second, what would we do about day care? Third, what kind of raving bitch will I be once I have had no sleep in weeks? Fourth, what if my child turns into a punk? I saw some kids today at the baseball game who utterly frightened me. There was a boy, he had to have been no older than 8, wearing a chain around his neck and an Eminem concert tee-shirt. He also happened to look exactly like Eminem. I don't want this to happen to my child!

So the answer is, I'm not sure. When it happens, I'll be happy, but please, mom, grandma, everyone, don't start knitting booties yet.

I'll take a pooper scooper though, if you've got one.

Truly disappointing
Man, I had me a hankerin' for some Doritos today. My lunch was less than satisfying. Recently I've been having a hard time eating bread. I'm not watching carbs or anything, but occasionally I'll bite into a sandwich and hardly be able to choke down the first bite of bread. Today I just took the meat out of my sandwich and ate that. Which was not exactly filling.

So I ventured down to the vending machine. I've had various run-ins with this machine, including last week when it mercilessly ate $1.25 in change as I attempted to purchase something that was right above something that somebody else tried to purchase prior to me, which had not completely fallen out of its slot. The item I attempted to purchase (I believe it was "Cheetos") then fell on top of aforementioned other item, and neither came out. So then I attempted to purchase the "other" item, which I think was some kind of potato chip, and that didn't budge.

But I digress. This time the machine was a vast wasteland. The only thing in the entire machine was some kind of bear claw hideous thing. Not a chip, Frito, Cheeto, Dorito or Muncho to be found. Not even a Funyun. No Famous Amos cookies.

*sigh*

Now I'm going to have to eat stale pretzels out of my barrel.

And, the eye twitch is back!

The Saga of the Tiburon, or, Please Stop Parking Like a Jackass

UPDATED

The latest drama surrounding the workplace revolves around our parking lot. We are fortunate enough to work in an area where parking is free. We have a nice big lot, but lately, it's been filling up. If you are late (as I am EVERY DAY), you end up parking so far away, you could hop on the bus and get a ride to the front of the building.

Within the past week, this Hyundai Tiburon (which is Japanese for "really crappy sports car") has been parking diagonally across two spots. It's obnoxious. So yesterday a couple of people parked diagonally next to it, thinking that maybe that would get the point across. And last night my coworkers held a "stake out" to see who the driver was. I don't think they recognized the person.

This morning, there it was again, taking up two spots, not even close to being parked straight.

So one of my coworkers parked behind it. Just pulled right up and parallel parked behind that car. So I'm thinking around lunch time, this is going to blow up. Or when the police tow her car away. Either way, it's not going to be pretty.

I'm thinking a much more effective way to deal with the problem would be to leave a note under the windshield wiper that says something like, "Hey moron, stop parking like a jackass, mmmkay? Signed, Everyone else who parks here."

Update: My coworker called the building maintainence office just to make them aware of the situation. She also called the police to make sure it was OK that she was parked like that. They suggested that she move. When she got down there, there was a crowd outside smoking, all talking about it.

The Tiburon owner's boss was among them, and she apologized to my co-worker. She said she had already discussed the parking situation with her employee and that the car would be moved. Apparently she didn't want "dinged." There are Lexus and Mercedes and BMW's in this parking lot, and you don't see them parking like idiots.

So that's the long and short of it.

Jigga wha???
Please tell me that the episode of American Idol that I just witnessed was a belated April Fool. The bottom three were the three best singers in the whole group? (OK, I can't stand Fantasia, but she's got pipes, I'll admit.)

And the top vote getters were the pathetic John Stevens, Jazz and Diana DeGagMe?

Ha ha. Very funny. Now show us the real results show.

Deader than dead
It has been so quiet and boring here today. Which I guess is good. But man, has the day been dragging! I've been working on the same thing all day, and toggling between that project and the Internet. A couple of times today I've clicked on Internet Explorer, had the Msn.com home page come up, realize that I just did this exact same thing less than a minute ago, and click off of it. Bad.

My boss was here for a grand total of maybe an hour today. I can't begrudge him that. The man just became a grandfather yesterday for the first time. To a nine-pound baby boy. NINE POUNDS. His daughter in law is tiny. I don't know how it was physically possible for her to deliver that bowling ball of a child, but I cringe to think of it. Hearing these stories make me want to maybe NEVER have children. Or adopt. The birthing process, it is skeery.

Tonight we have to do all the preparations for our trip. We're renting a car, so we have to square that away. We have to make hotel reservations. We have to empty out our change jar for gambling money.

Only one more day of work after this! Holla.

Annoyingest of the Annoying
Please, someone, explain me this:
Other Side of the Cubicle Mate Who Does Not Have a Nickname is usually pretty personable, but she is always. on. the phone. Worse than Bad Lady, I dare say. Her calls are mostly business, but it's constant noise.

Here's what I need an explanation for. When she is punching in the numbers to make the call, she puts the phone on speaker. So then I get to hear the boop-boop-boop-boop-boop-boop-boop of the dialing, THEN the ringing, THEN the on-hold music... why can't she just pick up her phone? She's not moving around, she's just sitting at her desk. How hard is it to pick up the headset?

Grr. I am sandwiched between a rock and a hard place in cubie-land.

Other cubie-land goings on: Incompetent but Likeable has blown a gasket. Apparently he had some actual work to do, on a deadline, and this sent him over the edge. On Monday, one of our managers was loose in the department, and passed IBL in the aisle between the cubes, and said, "Hello [IBL], how are you?" And IBL responded, "Oh, just fucking wonderful." And kept walking along his merry little way. I have only heard him swear one other time and it was the word "damn."

So we're on high alert for a postal moment. If I don't post for several hours, send a search party.

Best of the best
LeBron rules. But you knew that already, right?

Even more worser than worst
... Was last night's Indians game. They lost 15-5. We got soaked, too. We got good seats though -- my company's season tickets. They were quite swanky.

If anyone cares to give me the goods on American Idol, I'd appreciate it, including if anyone sang "Copa Cabana" (I'm sensing an ensemble performance of that this evening) and if John Stevens has a prayer of making it to see the light of day tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I'll be finding reasons not to work.

My worst
OK, I've been thinking about it all day (which tells you a little something about how much work I did today) and here, without further ado, is my "Top 10 Worst Songs of All-Time" list.

10. "Follow Me" by Uncle Kracker. This would have been higher up on the list, but Bad Lady hates this song and so that makes me kind of like it.
9. "Oops I Did It Again" by Britney Spears. No explanation necessary.
8. "The Super Bowl Shuffle" by the Chicago Bears. I was reminded of how bad this was on an episode of "I Love the 80's," which incidentially, is the greatest. show. evah.
7. "Escape (The Pina Colada Song)" by Rupert Holmes. I hear this song AT LEAST twice a day. As far as I can tell, the man is bored with his marriage, puts an ad in the newspaper trying to find someone else to hook up with, and his wife answers the ad. Tell me that marriage is still intact.
6. "Tubthumping" by Chumbawumba. You know how it goes. I get knocked down, but I get up again, you're never gonna bring me down... he takes a whiskey drink, he takes a vodka drink, he takes a lager drink, he takes a cider drink. Dooooooooooooon't cryyyyyyyyyyyyyy for meeeeeeeeeeeee, next door neighborrrrrrrr! You're loving me right now, aren't you! Think of me when you are hearing that song in your head for the rest of the day. And in your sleep.

And the top 5:
5. "Somebody's Watching Me" by Rockwell and featuring Michael Jackson. I just heard this song on an 80's compilation CD the other day and was again blown away by how bad the song is. First of all, Rockwell affects this accent throughout the song: "When I'm in tha showah, I'm afraid to wash mah haiyah." I can't believe Jacko signed on to do this project. It's bad even for him. And that was during his heyday! Thriller, man, Thriller!
4. "Mmm mmm mmm mmm" by Crash Test Dummies. If you've heard it, you know what I'm talking about.
3. "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine. Enough already. I wish this song had gone down with Leo and Kate on the Titanic.
2. "From a Distance" by Bette Midler. I don't like the idea that God is watching us. It's kind of creepy. Hey, maybe that's who was watching Rockwell in the shower!

And... the song I feel is most deserving of the title of WORST. SONG. EVAH! goes to:
1. "What's Up" by 4 Non Blondes. You know the song. It's the same four chords throughout, and the woman screams the chorus, "And I say Hey-yay-yay-yay, hey-yay-yay. I said hey! What's going on!" I want to stick a pen through my eyeball each time I hear this song.

This list is subject to change at any time. I'm sure there are a couple songs that are more deserving.

I write the blogs
Barry Manilow on Idol tonight? Yeah. Forgot to set my VCR.
Instead, I'll be singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" at Jacobs Field. Not just me, but also the other 15 people in attendance at the Indians game tonight. I'm forecasting a blizzard. Right now it's probably in the 50's, slightly overcast, but mark my word: before the night is over, 6 inches of snow will fall. I am breaking the cardinal rule, "Thou shalt not attend baseball games before June."

Well, someone please tell me how horrible it is, when John Stevens comes out dancing to the Copa! Copa Cabana! The hottest spot north of Havana!

Worst
Green Tuna has been so kind today as to share with us the list of the 50 worst artists, ever, according to Blender magazine.

I have a few beefs with the list, as you might imagine.

First, "The Pina Colada Song" did not make the top ten.
In fact, yes, the entire top ten is sucky, but I'm sure I could come up with ten that are even more sucktastic than these.

I am baffled that Milli Vanilli and/or New Kids on the Block did not make the Top 50 list, but that the Doors did. And Toad the Wet Sprocket. One of my favorite bands! How DARE they!

I will have to think about this and come up with my own Top 10. I can think of a few already...

To tell the tooth
One of the cats lost a tooth. We found it in the hallway near the bathroom.

This is the problem with having two cats. Someone loses a tooth, you don't know which one. Someone yaks up a hairball, you don't know which one.

I have to guess that it was Dom. Molly doesn't have many teeth left to lose. Plus Dom was acting a little strange last night; he just wasn't himself. He kept to himself, didn't want to play, and didn't eat. Also, with all the things he's been bringing up from the basement, I have to imagine that his teeth have been under a little duress.

It was a long, fangy tooth, but none of his "front four" are missing. I did the "bite test," sticking my finger near his face until he bit me. Then I felt around at his teeth. He did, however, favor one side of his mouth when he bit me and didn't bite me with his usual fervor.

He seemed to be fine this morning, as he wrestled Molly to the ground and had her pinned for a few seconds before I broke it up.

I guess I won't worry about it.

Late
Because my husband has all but abandoned his blog, I will have to tell this story myself.

He was delivering to some condos on Friday, and at one condo, a woman came to the door. When he showed her the package, she balked. "This is for my husband, and he's dead," she said. "It's a pair of shoes or something. He's already been cremated," she told him, with not a hint of grief.

"Well, you can refuse the package," he told her.

So that's what she did.
On his scanner, he has to put in a reason for refusal. Since "dead" wasn't on there, he chose the option "late."
Which, I guess, is correct. The package was so late, that the recipient is now the late recipient.

Welcome to the inaugural edition of
Things I Think Are Funny But No One Else Will Because You Weren't There!
Today's edition deals with the topic of Funny Things that Happened While I Was Taking A Test.

1. In large lecture hall, Econ 101 final.
Tests are handed out, and everyone is shuffling the papers, and shifting in their seats. It is the sound of just-before silence. Right when it gets quiet, someone does a perfect, dead-on imitation of Chewbacca that lasts for about 10 seconds. I get the giggles, and I am surrounded by strangers. I have to bite my pencil to be able to continue on without totally losing it.

2. In large classroom, Econ 102 (why did I have to take so many freakin' Econ classes? I am mathmatically stupid.)
We are getting our tests back and the professor is calling us one by one. My friend Ann* and I are plagued by this super annoying guy who always sits with us, Ben*. He is always giving us the "guns," a hand motion in which you turn your hand into a gun and point it at someone while making a clicking noise with your mouth. It's usually accompanied by some kind of phrase like, "Check ya later!" To give you further examples of how annoying this guy was, one day I came to class wearing a sun dress and he said, "Kathy, you're MAKIN'. My mouth. WATA!"

He also smelled of old, stale cigarettes, which is neither here nor there.

He went down to get his test and came back up with an exaggerated swagger. He had to cross both Ann and I to get back to his seat. As he was doing this, and swaggering, he said, "Read it and weep, SUCKAS!" And showed us his test results. Immediately afterward, he tripped over someone's bag and did a full-on face plant into his seat.

Good times.

25 things
Inspired by Grace (as I always am), I have decided to take on the challenge of writing 25 things about myself that maybe no one knows.

Here goes nothing:

1. Named after my two aunts. My first name, Kathleen, for my mom's sister. My middle name, Andrea, for my dad's sister.
2. I like cooked onions but hate raw onions.
3. Similarly, I like cooked tomatoes but I hate raw tomatoes.
4. Adding to my freakishness, I like raw carrots but hate cooked carrots.
5. The first record I bought (meaning the first record my mom bought for me) was "You Are" by Lionel Richie.
6. The first concert I attended was the Monkees reunion concert with my parents.
7. I have also been to a New Kids on the Block concert. On purpose.
8. I am an only child. But I always wanted an older brother.
9. I dropped out of law school after only one semester.
10. I was set to attend the University of Michigan but changed my mind at the last minute and thus ended up at OU. Best decision I ever made.
11. I think it's really, really funny when people fall down. Especially if I know them.
12 I have a small scar in the middle of my forehead from first grade, when playing a game of tag, I ran straight into a brick wall. I wasn't the brightest child.
13. I smoked cigarettes from age 16 to age 23.
14. I only got into baseball because I thought Omar Vizquel was hot.
15. I love dill pickles.
16. I have never been able to successfully blow a bubble with bubble gum.
17. I wear contacts and without them I couldn't even see the computer screen in front of me.
18. I have permanent ringing in one ear from several incidents of standing too close to an amp when it got cranked too high.
19. Family pets when I was growing up: Muffy the beagle, Snuggles the pointer and several goldfish, guppies and other miscellaneous short-lived tropical fish.
20. Which would make my porn star name Muffy Carroll. (First pet's name, first street name)
21. I have been in two bands, sort of: my husband's band a long, long time ago for about two weeks, and in high school, a backup singer for a band called Free Beer. We never got beyond my friend's basement.
22. I have perfect pitch. This has been useful in bar bets, and impressing guys.
23. My first kiss occurred during a movie theatre viewing of Stephen King's "Pet Sematary" when I was in seventh grade.
24. My first celebrity crush was Donnie Osmond (so I'm told) and as a baby, the only thing that could calm me was the song "I can't smile without you" by Barry Manilow.
25. The most famous person I've met would have to be Barry Williams, a.k.a. Greg Brady, and I've met him twice. He was my first celebrity crush that I remember.

Edited thrice to get Grace's link right and then once more to change to her super cool new site!

Insert catchy title here
What a beautiful weekend! It was so nice to be outside -- I wore shorts for the first time in, like, forever. We have some tulips that are about to bloom, and our flowering pear tree is starting to get some pretty blooms on it.

The true highlight of my weekend, though, I'm sorry to say, was watching the new Chris Rock special on HBO. He kills me. We tried to watch his movie "Head of State" that was on before the special, but it was so bad that we turned it off in favor of Chappelle's show. It was funny, too, how many jokes Chris Rock made that Chappelle had already touched upon in his show. Chris Rock even referenced Lil Jon, which is a Chappelle standard.

This is a four-day week for me, as Friday is my wedding anniversary and I'm taking the day off. O and I are heading north to the mitten state. Look out Green Tuna!

In addition to getting tickets to his concert, where they are opening. I just found out that he is coming to town next month. Score. I saw him last fall, when she opened. That was a good show.

Ooh! He is playing deep in the heart of TunaLand on Saturday night! I called my husband to see if he was down with driving there to see him. He said we can "discuss it later."

I enjoy male singer/songwriters. In case you couldn't tell.

Neighbors
I got home from my hair appointment this afternoon to find my husband and his friend beginning to attempt to hack down some branches from one of the large trees in our backyard. They had some kind of manual saw thing, and a short ladder. I eyed it suspiciously, and went inside for my mid-afternoon blog check/mindless game playing on the computer.

Then I heard the sound of a chainsaw firing up. I looked out the window to see Jim*, our neighbor, decked out in a full protective outfit, including ear muffs and goggles, up on his huge-ass ladder, cutting down our branches. And then chopping them into little pieces.

I guess that's what neighbors do? But still, it's so unusual these days that I had to write about it.

*you know the drill.

The Boston Strangler claims his next victim
Kathy, Kathy, Kathy. While I admire your attempt to overthrow the powerful Rambuh gruesome twosome, you should have known that you would be their sacrificial lamb. Now there is no one, absolutely no one, who can stop them from taking this all the way. Certainly not Shii Ann. Tell me again why she is an All-Star? Did Jessie decline the invite?

I am always ashamed of myself during the "letters from home" episode. They pump in the cheesy background music, and I try and maintain my composure, but the sight of Rupert blubbering over his wife and (adorable!!!) daughter is just too much for me to handle. So I once again broke down in tears.

It amazes me that this is All-Star Survivor, and yet when Rob offered to give up his video so that they could all have letters, the only one who looked like they smelled a fart was Kathy. Everyone else seemed to be just tickled pink that Rob would do something so generous. Hello? It's called jury votes. We know one person who won't be voting for Rob when the time comes... he showed up to Tribal Council sporting a fetching mohawk.

In other news, check out the scores from Fantasy League! I just squeeeeeeeeked up a notch... I'm sure it won't last though.

Tribe: =FistyRocks
Rank Team Name Score
1 VivaLaFisty 2390
2 buffs4vol 2333
3 Honeylife 2195
4 GreenTuna 2151
5 copssister 2015
6 The Sketch Factor 1999
7 Amazingrace 1991
8 Snappie 1928

These pants truly do belong upstairs
This morning I almost choked on a piece of toast when, right before my very eyes, Domino emerged from the basement dragging a dirty pair of Owen's work pants with him. He dragged them into the living room and then abandoned them there, his work done.

I shared this with my husband, and he informed me that last night before he came to bed, he found our fleece throw from the basement in the middle of the kitchen floor.

I'm beginning to think that Dom is like Noah, and he is preparing for a Great Flood and wants to make sure that the valuable items, namely, the Christmas stockings, three garden gloves, an Elvis wig, a sponge, a bag of random washers and bolts from Lowe's, the pants and the throw, survive the high waters.

God help us if he starts bringing up underwear.

Aw crap
I completely forgot about American Idol. Even though I posted about it!
Can someone please be so kind as to tell me who got the axe?
But so far tonight, I'm 1/1.



Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!
Make that 1/2.
I can't believe it! Not JPL!
I'm not saying he was good.
Not at all.
But I would rather watch his bizarre gyrations onstage than hear a Celine wannabe massacre an already crappy song, anyday.

The List
After reading Tracie's entry on her daughter using the forbidden "F" word, I thought back to the first time I got in trouble for evoking the Queen Mother of All Swear Words.

It was in second grade. I had a friend over, Ann T*. We were in my room, playing with Barbies or Cabbage Patch Kids or something (oh no, that was third grade I think) when suddenly Ann announced to me, "I know all the swear words!"

So we got out a pad of paper and she wrote them down for me. I knew some of them, like, "damn" and "shit", but I had never seen or heard the F word before. "What does it mean?" I asked, but she didn't know.

Later, as my mom was in my room, she found The List. And understandably, was not happy. She demanded to know where I learned words like that. I got sassy and said, "What words? Words like shit and fuck and damn?"

I can still remember the look on her face. Pure evil. I knew I was skee-rewed. So since then, I have been mindful of not swearing around the parents. Except one time, in college, when I was in a friend's dorm room when their parents were visiting and in conversation I said something like, "I couldn't fucking believe it" and then clapped my hand over my mouth. Luckily my friend's mom just winked at me.

*also her real name. Amy, you will know who this is.

Picture this
There are often times where I do work for a person I have never actually met face-to-face, but instead communicate with via phone or e-mail. Because I usually use the person's photo in the things I produce, I know what they look like. But they have no idea what I look like.

It helps at large company functions to know who's who and have them oblivious to your identity. I have the advantage of being able to avoid certain people and also to introduce myself to other people who I have had good dealings with.

Today I was coming back from lunch and I saw Barb*, someone for whom I have recently done some ads but whom I have never met in person. Forgetting that she has no freaking clue who I am, I greeted her by name and gave her a big smile. She nervously said hello and gave me a strange look.

So sometimes, it's a little awkward to finally meet the people who previously have only been a voice on the other end of a phone or a few lines of type on an e-mail message.

*her real name.

Tv overload
Tonight is the motherload of reality television viewing. You've got the Mark Burnett 3-hour extravaganza, consisting of one hour of Survivor followed by the two-hour Apprentice finale (reworded to not confuse GT and get her hopes up). Throw in the American Idol waste of a half hour results show and you've got yourself a heapin' helpin' of reality.

Predictions (aka Kat's kiss of death/guarantee of being wrong):
Booted:
Diana
Kathy
Not booted:
Kwame

In fact, I'm so sure I'm wrong, I think the entire FistyRocks Fantasy team should ADD Kathy to their team right now! Come on!

Tribe: =FistyRocks
Rank Team Name Score
1 buffs4vol 2138
2 VivaLaFisty 2115
3 Honeylife 2040
4 GreenTuna 1916
5 copssister 1900
6 Amazingrace 1851
7 The Sketch Factor 1844
8 Snappie 1773

I can also bend spoons with my mind
I astonished Incompetent but Likeable today. It really doesn't take much, but still.
He was over talking to me about how we should make a series of bobblehead dolls of some of our most reviled (is that a word or did I just make it up?) clients, when I said, "Hey, you're phone's ringing!"

It was true, but it was also a great diversion tactic.

He sprinted away to answer his phone, which is about 4 cubes down. Seriously. The man broke into a run.

After he finished the call, he came back, mouth agape. "How did you know my phone was ringing?" he asked me.

So I showed him where, on my phone, I had programmed his extension, my boss' extension and the extension of a person that I go talk to a lot, but who is also on the phone a lot.

"My phone doesn't have that," he said.
"That's because I programmed these numbers in." I refrained from offering to show him because that would take all afternoon.

Now he thinks I'm a genius. I can e-mail JPGS to people AND I have the all-knowing ability of keeping tabs on other people's phones.

Cool
Look, ma, a skateboarding bulldog! Be sure to watch his video.

You look mahvelous
This morning I did one of those crazy things that women do (do men do this? I'd have to guess that they do not) whereupon I put on one outfit, everything is going along smoothly, and at the last minute, I decide that I look like crap and have to change. So then I went through four clothing changes until I arrived at my final outfit... the very first one I put on. At that point it was 8:10; I leave the house on a good day at 8 (which is to say, never). So I rush outside and realize, hey, it snowed last night! Then I have to brush off the icy, slushy crap that has formed on my windows. So by then it's 8:15... but amazingly, I got to work at 8:45. Which is right around when I usually arrive. I think I missed the rush hour stuff or found a pocket where the traffic wasn't as bad. Either way, here I am.

Funny thing is, at least three people have said, "You look cute today!" to me. Always trust your first instinct when it comes to outfits. I guess that's the lesson to be learned.

Hello, McFly...
Bloggers? Are you out there?
None of you have updated today...
*drums fingernails on desktop*

That 70's migraine
Follow my logic. I have been coming down with migraines at night.
"That 70's Show" is on in syndication on our local WB at 6:30, and then on at various times during prime time on Fox.
Whenever I have a migraine, I find myself watching "That 70's Show."
Therefore, "That 70's Show" is responsible for my migraines.
That's the only explaination!

I've given it a little more thought and I think it's not "That 70's Show" as a whole. It's just Ashton Kutcher.

My day is ruined already
Which would you rather watch tonight: GeeDubya or John Stevens?
OK, maybe not John Stevens.
But in this case, I'd rather watch him destroy another otherwise good song.
Anyhoo, no American Idol tonight, peeps. Instead, we get an American... uh... A-hole.

Not too blue to buy shoes
To cheer myself up, I just bought these little numbers. I've had my eye on them for quite some time.

On the bright side...
It's Opening Day here in Cleveland. I don't know if that's a bright side, but it's worth mentioning, as it is our city-wide holiday. I'm excited to have baseball again. Tonight also is the Cavs last home game, and as they have eliminated themselves from the playoffs in an astonishing show of suckitude in the past few weeks, it's just as well that they are done. Now we get to gear up for some craptacular displays of bad pitching from our bullpen, the inevitable injuries that will plague our starting lineup, and game after game of ass whuppin' from the opposing team, usually in the late innings after we actually looked like we might have a shot to win. We can't even say for certain that we will suck less than Detroit sucks this year.

I am also happy to report that over the weekend, I caught a Beavis and Butt-head marathon on MTV2, which is one of my all-time favorite shows, and taped a few episodes. It brought back some great memories of sitting in dorm rooms, cracking up at the stupid humor, and then repeating the catch phrases ad nauseum (as Mr. T can certainly attest to).

And, as I suspected, I was not able to leave Borders on Saturday without buying some new reading material. I found an interesting book of philosophical essays on "The Sopranos." For instance, why do we find Tony, a criminal, to be a sympathetic character? As soon as I finish "The DaVinci Code" I am going to read it. By the way, last night's Sopranos was disappointing, I thought.

One major bummer: I didn't get my marshmallow egg. My mom gave us an Easter basket that contained, among other things, a package of pink Peeps. Blech. And two packages of treats for her "grandchildren" -- some chicken flavored Whiskas.

Thank you, Easter Bunny, bawk bawk!
I just found out that we are allowed to leave at 2 today! So believe me I'm going to be out the door right at the stroke of 2. The only one who will probably beat me out the door is Bad Lady, who doesn't even celebrate Easter.

Anyway, to all of you, have a very happy, safe weekend! Look out for those evil Peeps!

Things to be accomplished this holiday weekend
I will eat a chocolate marshmallow egg. That is my favorite Easter candy, evah. Not to be confused with the marshmallow Peep. Seriously, those things taste like ass. (Sorry GT).

I will try not to spend too much at Borders, where I'll be spending a large portion of tomorrow afternoon. My husband's band is having its CD release party there. Naturally, being inside Border's, I'm bound to make a purchase before I leave. Or two. Or ten.

I will go for a walk, even if it's cold. Rain is another story.

I will try and collect all of Dom's basement objects and put them somewhere where he can't find them. So he can find new items to fixate on. Our bedroom looks like a junk heap with all the crap he's brought up and I can't take a step in the dark without trampling over something.

I will sleep late, because I need to. And it would be really nice if Dom would cooperate with me on this. No more 4 a.m. nudges, followed by incessant purring and chirping right in my ear.

I will pay bills because I was just handed my paycheck! Woo hoo!

Help
Who can tell me about carpal tunnel syndrome? Because I think I have it. I've been having a numbness on and off in my left hand, particularly my pinky finger, and a throbbing in my wrist. This is the same wrist that I've had problems with before. It's been getting more and more frequent in the past couple weeks. Granted, I spend much of my waking hours in front of a computer, so it wouldn't be the most shocking thing that's ever happened.

Just curious to see if anyone knows anything.

Another day, another freakshow
Today was rolling along smoothly until I received an e-mail from someone who wants me to put together flyers for him. He included three attachments, saying that they were his head shots. So I open #1. Normal business headshot. Attachment #2, normal business headshot.

Attachment #3, photo of astronaut standing on the moon but with this guy's face superimposed into astronaut helmet.

No warning, no explanation. I'm not sure how to respond. In fact, I may need the afternoon off just to compose my thoughts.

And for those of you who care...
I am a slight Elton John fan. I really like his old stuff, particularly of the "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" ilk. So it was very painful for me last night to watch AI and hear Camille butcher it. And I had to turn away from the TV when John Stevens was performing. I was embarrassed for him. JPL was not stellar, either, but tolerable.

The stars of the evening were George, Jennifer and LaToya. But you know Jennifer is going back in the bottom 3. I don't really understand why, but she hasn't really connected with the audience.

If Camille isn't in the bottom 3 tonight there's something seriously messed up with the voting.

And in case I haven't said it before, I am OVER Fantasia. She is this year's Carmen Rasmussen in my book. Which is to say, if I never see her or hear her sing again, it will be too soon.

A glimpse into my meeting with aforementioned MotD
Me: *cough* The cards are full-color and *sniff* and can be printed for...
Her: *cough* *sniff* *honk* *nods*
Me: And *cough* I think that if you're *sniff* going to do one thing right now it *clears throat* should be...
Her: *takes huge sip of water* *cough* Sounds good.

I don't know what was wrong. I was fine before I went into the meeting. Maybe bad air was being piped through the ventilation system. My throat is still scratchy now.

But she ended up being really nice, and not scary. Other than the honking and coughing.

Mistress of the dark
I'm supposed to have a 10 o'clock meeting with someone named Elvira. I looked at her pic on our Internet site and she looks like an Elvira. A very famous Elvira. The one with the huge cleavage and was in some 80's B movies.

So I got that going for me too.

Hmmmm
Something really odd just happened to me. I got up from my desk to go briefly meet with one of our managers in the conference room, and just at that moment, Son of Big Boss walked by. We exchanged hello's and I kept walking. He stopped in his tracks, turned around and said, "What are you doing right now?"

I turned around and I think I said, "Uhhhhhh..."

But before I could even complete the "Uhhhhh..." he said, "Do you want to sit in on a meeting with me?"

I told him I had to go in to a meeting with one of the managers and he was like, "Oh, OK, never mind then."

Son of Big Boss has nothing directly to do with my department, but he is definitely a big voice in the company, and is most certainly the future of the company, so I guess I should be flattered that he wanted me to sit in with him. At the same time, my reaction is more of a "What the f*ck???" What kind of meeting would I be sitting in on? And why? I don't know if I just missed my chance or what, but the whole thing was odd to me.

Oh well.

New catch phrase
Incompetent but Likeable just told me that for an upcoming ad, the contacts that we are going to be working with are "social gadfly twinks."

I have no idea what that means, but I like it all the same.

14:59
When will his fifteen minutes be over? I wonder how many people will buy his CD. I can't imagine that it would be good, unless by good, you mean totally gut-wrenchingly stinking awful.

I don' geddit
Mid-afternoon, in our otherwise quiet office (quiet except for the incessant "soft rock", currently playing: "Every Time You Go Away" You take a piece of me with you... ew! It's a love song to Hannibal Lecter!) two maintainence guys showed up and just randomly started changing the overhead flourescent bulbs in my boss' office and in between our cubies. And were talking loudly and clanging around their ladders and boxes of bulbs.

I'm sorry, maybe I don't understand that maintainence people are also nine-to-fivers, but was it really necessary for them to make such a ruckus? And the lightbulbs they were changing weren't even burned out. Some of them were but they also changed some that looked perfectly fine to me.

Obviously I'm not a professional light bulb changer but the whole thing was very odd. And it's kind of disconcerting to try and work when someone is hovering over you on a ladder, y'know?

Sock it to me
When it comes to socks, I am a "no frills" kind of gal. My color selection is plain white, plain black, plain brown, and plain navy. I may even have a tan pair just for good measure. The white socks far outnumber the others and come in several heights. There are the ankle length, the slightly-longer-than ankle length, mid calf length and so on.

My husband has even less variety. He has long white and short white. About 20 pairs of each kind. He may have a rogue pair of black dress socks, but he can probably count on one hand the number of times per year he wears those.

I am one of those freaky people who cannot sleep without socks on. My feet are the coldest part of my body, always. Even in summer. If my feet aren't warm, I am uncomfortable. That's just one of my hangups.

I've heard that professional attire states that you should match the color of your socks to the color of your slacks. I rarely can pull this off. For instance, today, I am wearing grey slacks but black socks and shoes. Sometimes, without thinking, I'll do a Michael Jackson circa 1984 and wear white socks with black pants and black shoes. Then I feel like a goober all day and try to avoid crossing my legs and thus revealing my fashion faux pas.

People who can pull off the patterned sock look, such as the argyle, amaze me. I have no sense for color coordination. And since most of my work attire is some combination of black and grey or black and white, there's no need for me to have patterned socks in my repertoire. They just don't fit. I have, however, seen a certain B.L. attempt to wear heart-patterned socks with black pants and a pink shirt. I have no comment.

Side note: This entry was inspired by a lack of anything else to blog about. In case you didn't notice.

Quote of the night
"I don't f*ckin' wrestle. I beat bitches up!"
-Coral on Real World/Road Rules The Inferno, responding to Julie's invitation to wrestle her to settle their differences

Whacked
By a show of hands, who here watches The Sopranos? Last night's episode was so good. No one got whacked but there was an almost-whacked situation. Actually, a couple, come to think of it. (Don't want to ruin it for those who haven't seen it yet.) And the whole thing with Tony and a certain female main character?

Next week looks like it is going to have a lot with Steve Buscemi's character. So that should be good.

But there is good news ...
Baseball is back! And the Indians got rid of Milton Bradley and got something more than a peanut vendor for him! The Dodgers are suckers. Heeeeeeee!

TSF is in a bad mood today
I had forgotten how much Daylight Savings Time SUCKS. Sure, when I leave the building at night, the sun is still out, and I enjoy that, and I like it in summertime when it's light until at least 9, but right now? Hate. It.

I'm at work and it's not even 8:00 yet. Usually I'm just leaving the house. Getting out of bed was horrible, so I gave myself a few extra minutes of sleep. And I can never go to bed at the right time, either.

Plus it's cold! Brr! I am tired of layering, I'm tired of wearing gloves, of having to constantly be under a ton of blankets, even if I'm just watching TV on the couch. It's April, let's be done with the snow.

And I'm so burned out on work right now. I think I'm about to have my semi-annual wanderlust/inklings to go to graduate school. I can feel it brewing.

I need some entertainment today. Like maybe if a chimp could come to my office and dance down the aisles. Or a juggler. Or if Incompetent but Likeable painted himself like a mime and tried to find his way out of a box. I'm just sayin'.

April (Snow) Showers
Eccch! What is this that I see? A good 4-5 inches of snow?
I'm glad I lost an hour of sleep only to wake up to this.

Hard to make a (keg) stand
How many men have dreamed of owning a refrigerator stocked solely with beer?

A lot, apparently.

An unscientific poll of a group of my coworkers, all between the ages of 24-32, all with boyfriends, husbands or fiances, agreed that their guy has entertained thoughts of the beer fridge. Or more specifically, the keg fridge.

I took my poll because last night, my husband brought home a full-sized refrigerator which he intends to use as a "keg fridge" or "kegerator" as some people call it. I am baffled by this, perhaps because I am not a huge beer drinker. It doesn't agree with me. But my husband is a beer connisseur. He completed a "World Tour of Beers" at a local restaurant and has the jacket to prove it. Beer is important to him. He likes to try different types of beer, but falls back on a few of his favorites: Guinness, Great Lakes (a local brewery) and the occasional Miller Lite. I've even seen him drink the Beast.

With the new Kegerator in place he plans to have a keg at his disposal, and would even like to craft some kind of contraption that would allow for a tap to be on the outside of the door, making it the ultimate drinking machine.

I tried to put the kibbosh on it, just because I thought it might be something that will be cool the first time, but then the novelty will wear off. But in the end I decided not to push the issue. He got it for free, it's on our basement, not really inconveniencing me in any way.

So if anyone would like to come join the keg party, it will be going on 24/7 from now on.

A snippet of radio, courtesy Bad Lady
God is watching us
God is watching us
God is watching us
From a distance

Oh

God is watching us
God is watching us
God is watching us
From a distance

Celebrate good times, come on
OK, Green Tuna has highlighted the upcoming National celebrations. Read to be enlightened. Today, as she points out, is PB&J day. Who knew? I'm also looking foward to Name Yourself day. I'll have to come up with a good pseudonym.

Locally, we are celebrating Rain and Then Rain Some More Day. This has actually been a weeklong celebration that may be extended through the weekend.

And as a public service message, don't forget to Spring Forward this weekend. An extra hour of sleep! Hooray! And change the batteries in your smoke detectors! (I heard you're supposed to do that when Daylight Savings starts and ends.)

Ambuh luvs Chachi
Aww, Boston Rob has feelings fuh Ambuh. He went so far as to try and protect her and strike a deal with Lex. Ah, the things we do for love.

It's funny how differently Jerri views herself from how others see her. I think a couple weeks ago she described herself as "upbeat." I know it's all in the editing, but "upbeat" would be the last word I would use in describing her.

Walk to work
Today is National Walk to Work Day. To do my part, I, uh, drove. Yeah, like I would walk 25 miles in the rain and cold. Hee. I didn't even take the stairs, I took the elevator. Maybe I'll take the stairs on the way down. Or when I come back from lunch.

Or maybe I won't and say that I did?

Is it National Anything Else Day? Like, National Eat a Wendy's Mandarin Chicken Salad Day? Because I plan on doing that today. Or, National Spend Hours Mindlessly Surfing the Internet Day? I'm fully in favor of that. Who's with me?

Too Good to be True
This has to be an April Fool's joke. As an Indians fan, I can honestly say, this is the happiest day of my life, if it's true.

Now they just need to find a taker for Matt Lawton.

The Idol Debacle
Who should have been in the bottom 3: Camille, John Stevens, and, as much as I hate to admit it, JPL.

Who was: La Toya (WTF?), Amy, and Jennifer.

Jennifer looked like a beaten puppy dog even before they announced that she was in the bottom three. She looked like she wanted to find a hole in the stage, jump into it, and never be seen again. Girl has no confidence. And it's a shame; she's actually a decent singer. Hey, she made it this far and should be proud!

La Toya definitely didn't deserve to be there. Camille did for sure. Camille's Princess Leia gone horribly, horribly wrong hairdo definitely should have landed her in the bottom 3 just on principle.

After watching Idol, I had a bizarre dream last night that I was one of the contestants. I sang the INXS song "What You Need" (where did THAT come from???). Some other random girl from my high school was also on, she performed "Dancing Queen" by ABBA. But she tanked, and a light from the stage fell on her. Hmm. Ponderous.

Um, yeah.

Cookie!
Is it a bad idea to eat peanut butter cookies that someone has brought from home on April Fool's Day? I didn't really think about it until I started eating them. Some random person brought them in for our department. What if, as a cruel April Fool's joke, they are laced with Ex-Lax?

I'll let you know in a few hours I guess.