I just did my Federal

I just did my Federal Income Tax Return (applause, please, this was the first time I've ever done it myself. Reward me.)...and somehow I owe $4.20. Is it just me, or does that sound wrong?

Oh, and confidential to Blondie:

Oh, and confidential to Blondie: I'm SUPERsupersuperduper sorry your mom got mad! Tell her it was my fault, it usually is! ;-)

Oh, and I'm not sick anymore. Mostly. I mean, physically. I'm still a pervert. But the illness has dwindled to a phlegmy cough. Just in case anyone was wondering. Even though I know you weren't.

Oh, and if you were lucky enough to get tickets to the Laymans Terms show, rock on. I'll see you at EMP!

Oh, and...just kidding. Snuggle-time now. (aren't we just disgusting? I know. I hate us, too.)

Wooo, three whole days without

Wooo, three whole days without posting--I'm starting to feel normal again. I realized that I was living for the blog, instead of living for...uhm...well, normally, I'd say shoes, but I'm po' po' po' these days so there's little in the way of shoe-shopping for this girl. Ah well. No one to blame for that but me.

It's been an interesting few days, though. I actually did some work-like stuff--Dad and Evil Soon-to-be Stepmother hired me to do some design work/real estate stuff for them, at a reasonable $20/hr. I could get used to that, if it were a full-time thing, heh. So I spent Friday running around getting stuff together for theirhouse this weekend (back story for those not in the know: Dad and ESTBS bought some property down the street from their house on the lake and built another house, this one to sell for a million dollars. It's now become my job to sell it.)

I also saw the worst movie in the world with Boy and his micro-pal. I hope to god I never come in bodily contact with horse cock. Ever.

I performed my good deed of the week as well, by letting my newly-17-year-old brother borrow my new car (I'll have some pictures up soon, I promise) to go to his spring dance. He actually left it in fairly decent shape, except for a curious pile of sand on the floor of the passenger side. I don't think I'm going to ask any questions.

Had lunch with Blondie today as well--we did the "where should we eat" thing for a while, then drove around scheming over how to marry exceedingly rich men who will support our expensive habits. She's convinced that McEx, her scottish almost-dentist, will be suitable--I say that life married to a dentist is too disturbing to contemplate! Give me a venture capitalist any day, heh.

Also rotted my brain further with the Sims Livin' Large expansion pack--and bonded with another addict in the Sims aisle of Best Buy. It's now a widely known fact that the Sims is a very female-oriented game, what with all the interior and landscape design, the unlimited shopping possibilities (thank you, cheat codes). Boy says it just makes him depressed to play it, but I say 'hurrah!'

Another movie--Atame!, or Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down!. It was amusing, early Antonio "How do you say...ah yes" Banderas (too sexy, too sexy!!), but I developed a massive headache while watching. So much for being cultured.

And we FINALLY got the gas grill on the patio working today. Praise the heavens. Boy made a fabulous barbequed pork tenderloin, I nibbled on the leftovers, and we watched 90 straight minutes of the Simpsons. And then Malcom In The Middle. Ahh, Tivo. Both a blessing and a curse.

Time for some make-up time with Boy (he went for coffee with PsychoEx this afternoon, and I've been more than a wee bit grumpy about it. Unfairly so, it's been pointed out to me, as I've got this pesky issue with MY Ex. Hmmph. I *hate* being wrong.)...So stay tuned until tomorrow, at which point I may even have a REAL job--as a retail slave, but hey! I can pretend I'm Donna and Kelly running an over-priced stripmall boutique! (Yes, that was a Nine-0 reference). G'nite!

Blondie is pestering me to

Blondie is pestering me to write more in my weblog, but I'm finding I have nothing to say right now.

Other than this:

Marque dos para espanol!

Temperature: 99.4 Ears: barely aching.

Temperature: 99.4
Ears: barely aching.
Body: fine, except for the cramp in my leg that I got while dreaming about being hunted down by white slavers in a trainyard, with a rooster milling about. Someone tell me what THAT is all about.
Nose: Still dripping snot. You do not want to see the pile of tissues around me.
Throat: Voice pretty much lost. We'll see what we can recover with orange soda.

Outlook? Better. especially with the temperature down, that was the worst. Now it's just th--Eww!! I just sneezed the most disgusting--Uhm. Yeah. Move along, nothing to see here! (sorry Zone)

I need me some Sims. And biscuits. Unfortunately, biscuits are out of the question for me, as I couldn't swallow them if I tried...Not so for the Sims!

Everyone is sick. Go to

Everyone is sick. Go to Blogger or Diaryland or Diarist.net and click on any random weblog/journal...EVERYONE is sick.

Screw this springtime bullshit, gimme some summer.

Oh, and if you get a chance? Check out this book, Youth In Revolt. It's fucking awesome. But perhaps I just have a fondness for precocious youngsters.

Time for more sleeping off the sick.

Temperature: 101.2 Ears: Still aching.

Temperature: 101.2
Ears: Still aching.
Body: Still aching.
Nose: Dripping snot at every turn. (man, I'm seeeeexy)
Throat: I'm fairly sure it's been ripped from my body while I wasn't looking.

Outlook: Not so good. But better than Boy's, he was NOT feeling well when I talked to him last. Poor thing, he insists that he gave me what I got, but I think that it's the other way around. I plan on making us both wear surgical masks now. Heh. The mental picture of the two of us in bed with surgical masks makes me giggle.

Speaking of masks: The other night, Boy and I were on our way...somewhere, can't remember now--Driving down 34th in Fremont, we see this guy riding his bicycle in a bright yellow poncho (it wasn't raining) while wearing a gas mask (it wasn't WWI). Ahh, the freaks come out at night.

Nia's having her elective surgery today--read her webjournal, she compliments meeeeeee. And, when you read this, sweets? Yes, it's okay if you call me your girlfriend ;-) I just hope you don't mind my calling you my "girliefriend", I like that bunches, heh.

Chocolate Love has a date with a freak tonight, I can't wait to hear about it.

Now back to our regularly scheduled Sims-playing.

I am so sick, S-I-K.

I am so sick, S-I-K. Spent all night behaving like a two year old and bawling for my mommy--poor Boy! He had to put up with me.

WHAT is WRONG with ME? Yeesh. Here's a grocery list of the things that I've noticed:
1) the current head-cold, earache, sore-throat, congested, coughing, phlegmy-thing. Gross.

2) the possibility of endometriosis...I think that's what's causing the backaches and pelvic pain...Y'think?? Hmmph.

3) My jaw is killing me, and it's not because I've been grinding my teeth in my sleep--it's my stupid not-so-wise-teeth. I know, I know, I should have had them out ages ago, but...ehh. (I have to be honest and blunt and share details you'd probably rather not know, but the worst thing about this jaw ache thing is the inability tomy mouth wide enough to...*ahem* Draw your own conclusions.)

4)...Popsicles!!wide enough to comfortably consume popsicles. Sheesh. Perverts.

Okay, that seems to be it. Have you noticed how hard it is for me to concentrate and stuff lately? It's impossible! My brain has turned to mush! I tried counteracting the effects by re-reading college texts that I never read, but Boy pointed out that there are better ways to avoid brain-mush than THAT. Thank heavens.

Oh, and if you're in Seattle, like live music, and have nothing going on tonight, check out the boys of Laymans Terms. I've known Kyle and Dylan since forever, and they're at the Ballard Firehouse tonight, at Experience Music Project next week. Too exciting!

Time to nap before getting ready for Bro's birthday party tonight--send me lovin'.

Mmm, Pagliacci... Other workings of

Mmm, Pagliacci...

Other workings of the weekend, to pick up where I left off: Lesse, we already covered the movie, the car-washing (in my bathing suit, no less! Unfortunately, it wasn't NEARLY as warm as I pretended it was.), the flair, dirty-hot, and...I think that's it. That's about all the interesting stuff that happened. Sunday was dinner with Dad and Nazi-girlfriend and their friends...It was Nazi-girlfriend's 8 millionth birthday, the old hag. I pulled the "I made it myself trick" and gave her earrings--hideous as all hell, but she ooh-ed and ahh-ed all the same. Easy mark, she is.

Today was a very very important day. It consisted of Boy staying home from work, sleeping in (sort of, mostly playing around naked and watching Heat while eating toast and peanut butter in bed...Damn the crumbs!), watching tv, and...Ooh! He vacuumed, for which I am eternally grateful, I *hate* vacuuming. (Do not, whatever you do, point out to me that I've spelled two words wrong in that last sentence. I know. We've discussed this before.)

I headed to lunch and a spot of shopping with Nia at Pacific Place--MAN, that place is heading downhill. At least forty percent of the original stores that were there when the malld have closed, moved, gone Chapter 11...With good reason. Email me and I'll explain the whole thing.

Oh, and if you're into the kink, check out Nia's journal from the last few days--woooooohoo! *blush*

Boy bought an Mp3 player this afternoon for his car--he's quite thrilled that he won't be dependant on commercial radio for music; I, however, fear the unknown.

Tomorrow is my brother's 17th birthday--what to do?!?! I bought him a car for christmas (radio-controlled, dummies--it won't be a REAL one 'til I'm a bit older, aye?), and he's yet to give me a reasonable suggestion as to what he wants now. Again, good luck to me.

My nose, and I guess the rest of my face, really, has been reeeeeeally itchy lately, and I've been sneezing tons. D'ya think I might have allergies?? Damn!!

I will retire for the evening, but I knooooooow you're all eagerly awaiting my next bout of brilliance. Keep eyes peeled and browsers ready!

This time, an entire *weekend*

This time, an entire *weekend* without posting! I think it's been good. I'm weaning myself off of my blog, attempting to hone my posts into witty, clever vignettes. Good luck to me, I say. I'm too long-winded for that to happen.

Things that happened this weekend: Whole lotta nothing. Saw Josie and the Pussycats...What wonderful product-placing fluff! AND it had hot chicks in tube tops. Who could say no? *grin*

Washed Lexi (a.k.a New Car) for the first time--and it looked dirtier after I did it, heh. I'm not tall enough to get the roof, so that was still dirty...but then we also made the mistake of washing our cars four hours before it started to rain again. Boy's car still looks clean, though. Damn.

Also, in Lexi News--I added some more flair: Along with my rear-view mirror disco ball, I know have a head-bobby-thing named Demonique. She's dirty-hot as Zone says. I don't have enough dash space.

Oops, pizza's here, I'll be back.

First a quick note on

First a quick note on last night's post: That last sentence, where it says, "Time to get ready, we're watching posted by Rhoda McKinney at 7:28 PM"...I forgot to finish my little href tag, and it connected everything! It was *supposed* to say, "Time to get ready, we're watching my girlfriend get flogged at the Wet Spot." But everything went wonky, and I can't get back into the edit function to fix it. Curse you, technology!

Some notes on today: Let me start off by saying fraud is not a crime. Not reeeeeally. At least, not the kind of fraud perpetuated today by Blondie and myself. Worry not, all will be well.

Also, I'm finding that driving my sweet little Lexi (also known as My New Car) is much like driving in a La-Z-Boy. Driving home this afternoon from Blondie's on that long stretch of I-5, sun shining through my bug-spattered windshield...ah, bliss. I've got to make sure that I don't kill myself doing that.

(On a somewhat related note, I must confess that I've been spelling La-Z-Boy wrong my entire life, and didn't learn the correct spelling until driving by a La-Z-Boy factory this afternoon with Blondie. Hmm.)

Chocolate Love pointed out to me the other day (you do remember my mention of him, right? You'll hear even more in the coming weeks.) that conversations with me are somewhat like reading Cliff's Notes. I'm going to work on that, I'm absolutely positive it's a liability.

Oh! The flogging. I almost forgot, heh. Wow. It was preeeeetty interesting--quite the learning experience for me and Boy. Hmm. Lots to say, but I'm not sure it's mine to say it. Keep an eye on my girl's journal for information on that subject!

Now time to smooch with Boy, recently home from work.

I am SO easily distracted.

I am SO easily distracted.

Tuesday, or Day of Arraignment: Can I just tell you how much I hate being in trouble?? It was awwwful. Not that anything really *happened* to me, I didn't even get a lecture from the judge! (It pays to be born to the right people.) But I had to sit there through an hour and a half of *other* people's lectures...Theives and nutcases, crackwhores and, strangely enough, a domestic abuse suit...That one was unexpected. And there was innocent little me with my silly "Driving w/o License, 3rd Degree" (trust me, it's not as serious as it sounds!!)...My arraignment was scheduled for 930, but didn't end up happening until almost 10ish...and I was the VERY last one. The judge and my stepfather go way back (did I mention that every single family member insisted I take a lawyer with me? And it was a good thing they did--but then he didn't show up until [notice panicked emphasis] 9:29!!! Meh. It was scary.). Long story bit longer, no worries for me now, heh.

Although, on a related note, I am a cop-magnet (if only I could be a chick-magnet! wooohoo! Where's my MXPX?)...So I was on my way to Mom's this afternoon, driving down a street with a 30mph speed limit--and I, remarkably, was only doing 33mph. Does that exempt me from getting pulled over? Apparently not. But it was a long ordeal with a happy ending--no ticket! Man, I'm a sweet talker.

Dad's birthday was Tuesday night, too--made my now-famous Pear-Ginger-Mango crisp for dessert, but the candles kept melting--INSIDE the crisp. Nothing like blue wax to coat your teeth :-P. Boy did the good thing and bought him baseball tickets. Did I mention how smart he is?

Had lunch with Nia, too...It was so good to catch up finally! Man, I missed her. Check out her page, she mentions meeeeee!

Now, for yesterday: Uhm. Hmm. I *know* something happened. I can't seem to remember it. Weeeeeell...it ended with Boy and I having dinner with Mom and Buddy and Liv...but other than that...Hrm. Well, i'll be back when I figger it out.

Time to get ready, we're watching my girlie get flogged at the Wet Spot tonight--wish us luck!!

Whooo. I'm a bad bad

Whooo. I'm a bad bad girl. *spank* whee!

Here's the deal. Went to a Church of Mez Beachburn. Went to a Fuzzy Engineng. Watched firedancers, grooved on the beach, saw pink bunnies dancing through the hallway, gorged on easter candy, got sloshed in the hottub and gave Boy a hard-on (oh, did I mention Daddy was 10 feet away? Wooooohoo!), GOT MY NEW CAR, played with Boy's new webcam with Drome, barbequed with Blondie, christened new car with Boy (*dirty laugh*), dipped my toes in the lake, released frustration upon my mother's yard (I don't have one to play in), watched my tulips bloom, ran in the mud, and...

I think that's it. None of this is in chronological order, but there, that's my weekend.

Guess what else! I didn't go to jail today. That was a nice way to start my morning. And now I must off to get ready for my darling girl, Nia. Lunch! Yippee! Go read Shinypants. She's a doll!

Wow. Not a single post

Wow. Not a single post yesterday. I feel so neglectful--did you miss me? heh.

It's official--I get my car tomorrow. Daddy drove it to Everett and back before taking it to get its emissions tested...and it passed, woo hoo! I need a name for this car. The truck I was driving before was Nicky, The Little Gay Truck, then before that was Rhoda the Mustang (we were *this* close, me and that car)...So this car is a burgundy Blazer S-10. Let me know.

So yesterday was...interesting. Colored Easter eggs (oh yeah, happy resurrection of Christ or whatever.) with the cuz (I got all militant about it, I'm a control freak that way), then went to lunch at Red Robin (*barf*), where we proceeded to completely terrorize our waitress--but it wasn't our fault! It took like six tries to get Cuz's drink right (she ordered something called a "Crantini", it looked disgusting. Gin with a splash of cranberry juice and a lemon...at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. If I were to drink something like that, I'd have to be REEEEALLY drunk already. Those canadians. *snort*) and my drink took two tries (*shakes head* I ordered a strawberry lemonade. You'd be surprised at how easy it is for them to screw up their staple drink.).

Boy is shooting stick tonight

Boy is shooting stick tonight with college pals. Though the chance to wear my leather pants and slouch around a pool table with an unfiltered Kamel hanging off my pouty lips was enticing...I'm beat. Today was absolutely nuts. I felt busy all day, but STILL I have the sneaking suspicion that I didn't get a single thing done. And with this holiday weekend business looming, I'm not feeling relaxed at all. Every ounce of stress that I've relieved myself of in the last few blissfully unemployed weeks is Baaaaa-aaaaack. My jaw, my neck, my back (upper and lower) are KILLING me. And, I'm nervous to say, my wrists. I think it's from this damned iBook. Ah, well.

Told you I was coming back to gripe.

I need a challenge. Any suggestions?

Evil Jerri is on Politically Incorrect tonight--and WOW, is she a numbskull. At least she's got the good sense to just keep her mouth shut (except to unleash that trademark cackle in the most inappropriately non-humorous moments). The shirt she's wearing is flesh-toned, with gold sparkly stuff across the chest. Looks like she's naked but for glitter. Ewww.

Seriously, she hasn't uttered a word in the last seven minutes. Two moments of cackling, during a heated argument over minority rights and equal opportunity etc. Bill Mahre talks about how Clarence Thomas was appointed to the Supreme Court (ooh, third cackle from Jerri) as a black representative, and yet he really only represents 5% of african americans. *insert struck-dumb look on Jerri's face*. Lucky for her that none of the other participants are as cruel as I would be--I'd rip her a new arsehole. Just for sitting there. Looking dumb. And being an uberbitch on Survivor.

(shh, here's a secret: I kind of miss having her slutty little venomous self on the show. What with this rain and such, they'll actually have to focus on *surviving*, instead of using all of their precious rice-fueled energy plotting and such.)

Three minutes before the end of the show (and forty seconds before the last commercial, which preceded the last twelve actual seconds of the show), Host Bill Mahre tries to drag Jerri into the fray with this question: "As a 'survivor' (heh) of a reality show, why do the black people on reality shows look so bad? They either look lazy or egotistical, is it the producers? Are they choosing those types of people (uh, yes?)" And Brilliant Jerri's response is...."I think it's a coincidence (duh) [then jerri makes snide comments about every one she didn't want to sleep with on the show. read: Everyone but Colby.] [cackling] [snide comments about Ramona from season one.]" There it went, her 15 minutes.

So there was the typical brou-ha-ha about ousted Survivors posing nekkid and such, right? Apparently Jerri, the "aspiring actress", has been *soliciting* her nudie offers. No one wants her outright (quelle surprise, the hag), she's scrounging up offers of (get a tissue, this is sad) $15,000 from Hef. Sooooo sad.

Man, I need a life.

In other, more uplifting news, Nia is back! Yippee! I get my girlie fix soon, heh. She's getting her first public flogging at the Spot this week, I'm nervous. I don't know if I'll be able to watch the whole thing.

If the opportunity arises, see Dane Cookin action. He's freakin' hilarious, and awfully cute! heh. I remember seeing him years ago, and now he's all buff and cute and the like. Gotta be in the right mental place, though--he's hyperactive at best, but closer to insanely frenetic. Still funny. "Crouton of Christ"--Ha!! Too funny.

I think I'll be heading to bed now.

See what I told you

See what I told you about the number of posts slowing down? I lose interest in the bright and shiny things quickly.

In today's news: My barbie-doll cousin is in town for the weekend, so I have to entertain her--no small feat in itself (she's even worse about losing interest in things quickly. Ask me about her marriage, heh.). Just as well, I suppose, Boy's going to be at work until kingdom come.

In other news, my freakin' birthday car didn't pass emissions--I didn't drive it long enough before taking it to get tested, and it was THREE POINTS over the limit of whatever it's being tested for. Grr. So Daddy's going to drive it around this weekend (grr again. He lets me drive it all over today, get the title transferred, have it inspected by the insurance company, etc etc ad nauseum, and THEN I find out that I can't have it. Again! I've been waiting for this stupid car for years, I swear [man, I sound spoiled. Oh yeah, I am. But still! Dad's been promising me a new car since I was sixteen.]).

Blondie isn't coming down here this weekend. Dammit. More grr.

Y'know, I didn't think I was too upset about not going to the U2 concert, but it turns out I am. I'm pissed as hell. I wasn't, really, until I was burning rubber in my sweet little Blazer this afternoon and live footage of the concert FROM LAST NIGHT came on the radio. Mmphm. That hurts.

Okay, Boy just called for chauffeur service. I shall return to gripe some later.

I am so smart, S-M-R-T.

I am so smart, S-M-R-T. Did you see what I learned to do? Gimme some love

Boy *flipped* when I mentioned

Boy *flipped* when I mentioned the word "arraignment". So, for good measure, here's some reassurance:

I am NOT going to jail. Girls like me don't GO to jail, heh.

On another note, I really have to recommend the movie "Spy Kids" for when you're jonesing for good, clean fun (rare occasion 'round here, I like my fun as dirty as it comes, heh)...it was hilarious! I want a toilet that says "Now flushing your poop", ha! *Way* more amusing than I thought it could be.

Blondie just called to make me feel better! I was all grumpy after having to spend the morning being berated for my irresponsibility. I *hate* not being right. There's really no way I could get around it--I got the tickets, and the moving violations, and for absolutely NO reason at all, I didn't pay them. (Well, not NO reason. I didn't pay them because I have an incredibly deluded elite-ist mindset, but shhh! don't tell.)

Aaaaaanyway, a morning like that would make anyone grumpy.

In other news: I made a pear-ginger-mango crisp today--it smells wonderful! I can't have any until Boy gets home from work (read: I'll never get to have any, because work consumes all of his attention these days *pout*). I'm jonesing for some fried chicken and biscuits 'n' gravy to go with the crisp. (another side note: I keep typing "crips" instead of "crisps", heh. Whazzup, homz.)

In Nine-0 news: Dylan doesn't know what to do with his life now that he's clean and sober (aww, no more scenes with the smack dealer!), so Kelly buys him a 55' T-Bird. Wow. Now THAT's love.

In educational news, I'm figuring out this href-thing. I'm going to go back to some earlier posts and spiff things up a bit--go look!

My gimungous pile of moving

My gimungous pile of moving infractions is taken care of...almost! All those pesky tickets are paid off, now I just have to get through the arraignment. If *only* I'd gotten assigned to a judge I *know*. Damn. Ah, well, they all love me.

On a related note, I'm awfully lucky that Boy thinks it's sexy that I'm an outlaw. It's prolly even sexier that there's no chance that I'm going to jail, heh.

Dylan got assigned to a

Dylan got assigned to a chain gang. Billionaire drug fiend from Beverly Hills with a figure-skater girlfriend got busted for possession and was sentenced to a CHAIN GANG. *shakes head* So sad.

I'm off to a girls' lunch with Mom and Auntie J and Kid Sis. *grabs earplugs* Whoooboy, can they make some noise.

Yet another evening fraught with

Yet another evening fraught with technical mishaps. At least I didn't destroy OS X on Boy's iBook again. (twice was enough, methinks.) Instead, Blogger decided it didn't like me, then the dumb pre-release IE5.01 fecked up again. Man, I'm full of excuses. *fingers crossed* Here goes:

Today: woke up SUPERlate (boy and I were up until 4am doing..."research" for my new pet project--I'll tell you all 'bout it in a bit), and Boy had already left for work, poor thing. *insert fervent wish for work-dealie to get launched ASAP* Ran my little route, mom showed up, headed to Greenlake, logically followed by smoothies and shopping at University Village. Mom went wild at Williams-Sonoma (I drooled over the Kitchen-Aid standing mixer that my grandmother refuses to buy me. Hag.), then did the same at Ravenna Gardens, until I could bind and gag her enough to get her out of the store. On a whim, we headed to Anthropologie to make fun of the poor souls who want to be original and different, just like everybody else *snicker*.

Now, let me point out that I'm pretty damned cool with Me. I'm a slick chick, firmly in control of...things, right? So why is it I suddenly felt not blonde enough, not tall enough, not thin enough, not slick enough after being run over by a bevvy of Chi-Delts coming out of Aberfimby and Crotch? Hmmph. Curse them for putting me out of whack.

So that made me moderately grumpy, as did the conversation Mom carried on (somewhat without my consent) about how Stepdad is convinced that I need Validation From a Father-Figure, and since Dad obviously ain't the one to give it, it had better be coming from him. Since WHEN does he ever even think about that sort of thing in relation to me? Hell, he can hardly remember my name these days. Ah, well, I do appreciate the effort, I guess. Boy reminded me tonight that mere weeks ago, we had a conversation about how I claimed to need validation from him, heh. *smacks forehead* D'oh!

Another twist in my panties today: No U2 concert for me and Blondie. She wondered why I wasn't all freaked out and upset when she told me that her dumb friend got back together with her boyfriend and would therefore be using the tickets herself (bitch! dumb bitch, even! grr.)...I'd pretty much banked on that possibility. Floor section, Row 12 are way too good to be true. Such is life. I'll have to see Bono and the boys another time.

In the unlikely event that anyone is reading this: Zone, your charoset was wonderful! I felt Jewish for the day (don't tell my catholic grandmother. It'll put her into a timely grave, and we CAN'T have that, hmm? heh.)

Ohh! Met a new fellow on Nerve this afternoon, I'll call him Chocolate Love. (Coco for short.) Waaaaaay too entertaining. He's a great addition to the par-tay.

Ohh!^2 This new project I was *aheming* about? Pr0n has suddenly become highly intriguing. Having never gotten into it, I'm completely entertained by the entire premise, and I've started interrogating pals left and right about their pr0n habits. VERY interesting results. I'll keep you posted.

Aww! (good) Boy and I took a moonlit (and streetlight-lit) walk down to the water and around the big Adobe complex tonight...he got dizzy on the LWRC dock, heh. Have I mentioned he's the cutest thing ever? It absolutely drives me bonkers. He's so cute that even when he drools in his sleep onto my pillow (hint: he's doing that right now.), it's adorable. I just wanna put him onna plate an' sop him up wid a biscuit.

Aww! (bad) Blondie and her Viking broke up. Quote from him: "I need space" Translation: "I'm a dumb bastard and I want to fuck other people". Am I wrong? Tell me so. This is good, though, in one respect--Now Blondie can come play more, woo hoo!

Am I forgetting anything? Ah, the quote of the week:

*at the grocery store, mom's looking at my pile of groceries, which included maraschino cherries, baby dill pickles, matzoh, water crackers, and a jar of olives*

Mom: You shop like you're throwing a cocktail party.

Oh, mom. if you only knew!

Email me, dammit. ferragamogirl

Email me, dammit. ferragamogirl

Been talking a bit to

Been talking a bit to my boys across the pond--JC and Gently (London and Dublin respectively)--and MAN do I miss those guys. JC and I made a pretty decent habit of talking almost daily (I cringe at what his phone bills must have looked like), he's been a rock...Gently is my wonderful irish pal, who has a wonderful South African girlfriend who's au pairing in Belgium (man, I'm starting to feel like I live in a Bennetton ad.)...G came to visit me last summer, we had a WONDERFUL three days--picnics in the park, wandering the market, wakeboarding at my dad's, dinner with crazy drunk friends of my dad's girlfriend (oh lordy. For those of you who have been unfortunate enough to meet the Legend of the Drunken Nazi herself, you know what I'm talking about.)...and I didn't realize until the other day that I had SUCH a wonderful time! *sigh* I miss those guys.

Mom's on another health kick, so we're heading over to Greenlake to walk in a circle. Thing about Greenlake--You've got to commit to the lake, give to the lake. Once you start, there's no turning back, no excuse will satisfy the lake. If only we could be friends, me and the lake, and maybe a little more--but I don't want to meet the lake's parents, I don't want to marry the lake...I just want...to be cool with the lake. And maybe not have to walk the entire four miles or whatever. Especially after running my mile or so this morning...Ah, well, I get to see mommy, that's good.

Read Blondie's weblog, she talks about ME! http://blondebombshell.blogspot.com

Fecking hell. This is the

Fecking hell. This is the third time today I've tried writing this post. While one might think that I'd been stricken by the evil writer's block, this time my affliction is merely technical. Stupid Macs... OS X comes with this pre-release version of MS IE5.01 or something, and it's proven to be unstable, at least when *I* use it. It tends to shut down with no warning, usually when I've written a rilly good long email, or a rilly good long post. *more grumbling and curses* Okay, let's try this again!

Wow. An entire day without posts (now you know why :P) I had great intentions, but they somehow got sidetracked.

Then the Psd to HTML or PSD to CSS conversion is carried out by hard coding the image to fit into HTML frames or layers

Here's today: Boy headed into work again, after a great nekkid session and a graffiti session in the shower (more accurately, Boy did the business end of showering, I plastered the shower walls with graffiti, courtesy of my new bathtub soap crayon thing. Today's graffiti theme: "Highschool Bathroom Stall", which included such classics as "Boy loves Rhoda" and "For a good time, call xxx-xxxx".) After puttering about the apartment, chatting with Blondie, and generally accomplishing nothing (I attempted a nurturing session with my patio flowers, but I just couldn't do it. I can't believe I'm even considering getting a dog.), I took a quick jaunt down into Fremont to browse The Wits' End and Twice Sold Tales, only to end up at the grocery store buying a trashy romance novel. No wonder I feel my brain turning to mush. Came home, and figured Boy would be at work for at least another four hours, so I had Kozmo deliver the entire first season of Sex In The City. Not being an HBO subscriber, I'd merely been tantalized by ads for this highly acclaimed show. Zone messaged me on MSN, tried to teach me simple HTML so I could insert links all over the place, but I wasn't concentrating and I don't remember how at this point. Oh well. I convinced Zone to come watch Sarah Jessica Parker and the gals bitch about living and loving in Manhattan (I have absolutely no frame of refernce for this, as I've spent as little time as possible in Manahttan, and prefer to do my livin' and lovin' in more hospitable locales, heh). Boy came home, and the three of us proceeded to watch an unbearable three hours worth of SITC. Jaysus. The snide comments were flying high and dry--we turned it into a pilot for "Mystery SITC Theater 3000", heh. I was jonesing for fajitas AGAIN (no, mom, I'm not pregnant [Mom's convinced that I've inherited her Pregnancy Tells--apparently when she was pregnant with me AND my brother, all she could eat was Mexican and Chinese. Nope, no chinese food here, sorry. And I'm not pregnant. Just for the record. I'm not. In fact, I was telling Boy over fajitas that pregnancy = parasitic invasion. This little thing is living inside you, feeding off of you, growing, and in return, making you vomit every morning for the first three months it's there, and making your life miserably uncomfortable for the next six, and then it NEVER GOES AWAY. Ask my mom. I'm all growed up (heh) and I still run to her house twice a week to get her to braid my hair for me (more heh).])

Wow, that was a lot of punctuation there.

And I'm exhausted. More tomorrow, of course. Boy asked me tonight, "So are you ever going back to work?" Yeah, sure. This week. Or something.

Sleep now!

I just spent a whopping

I just spent a whopping three hours grocery shopping with my mother. Holy crap, that was tiring. It DID remind me how much I don't want a family any time soon...I'm definitely not selfless enough.

Sometimes I feel like I have to downplay my youth and exuberance and lah-dee-dah, life-is-great-at-21-ness, because the working-mom-with-high-maintenance-husband routine seems to be so incredibly draining for her, especially on top of the whole depression-thing. Combine that with recurring migraines and...

*sigh*

Moving right along...I see now what Nia meant when she talked about getting sucked into the web-journaler's world--I've been reading all these weblogs, getting my vicarious living fix. I particularly enjoy those precocious youngsters with the supah-fly websites--though I'll admit to finally being embarassed that I haven't at least learned HTML by now. I made Boy change the colors on this for me, because I am a dork.

*snicker* I just saw an ad for "Travel South Dakota". Whooooooboy.

Watch America's Test Kitchen. It's the real-life version of that Phil Hartman SNL sketch "Cooking with the Anal-Retentive Chef", but useful. Popular with the geek quotient, as demonstrated by Boy--it's the only cooking show he'll consent to watch. And the host is easy to make fun of.

Boy has just left for

Boy has just left for work...I can't wait until this project is done (I *know*, he's more interested in completing it than I am, heh.) because then I can manipulate even MORE of his time, woo hoo! Oh, and he'll be much happier and less stressed, which will be even better.

The tulips I planted in our planter boxes on the patio are NOT faring well. Evidence of my black thumb is supported yet again.

Have I yet mentioned how much I desparately miss my girliefriend Nia? *Desparately*. With her in Florida (visiting HER 'rents, she'll return just in time for me and Boy to leave to visit HIS family. Sheesh), Blondie, Panda and Muffin all away at their respective schools--I'm left with only Mom to play with during the day! Which, of course, is not a BAD thing--I just miss being able to discuss the more....sordid (heh) details with her. She *understands*. It's a wunnerful, wunnerful thing.

So.

Time to go for a run.

Slice-and-bake cookies are a hidden

Slice-and-bake cookies are a hidden blessing when it comes to afternoons with my kid sister. No mess, woo hoo!

*wild giggling* My soon-to-be-eight year-old sister can do a PERFECT impersonation of Steve Irwin, "Crrrrocodoil Hen-tah!!" Too funny.

"I got some smoke, rock...got

"I got some smoke, rock...got some meth, smack....Smack? You lookin' for a little of that?"

Ahh, how DO those Nine-0 writers do it?! That was Dylan's new pusher. Nothing like having a 40 year old play a guy who's supposed to be 25.

"To get authentic huevos, you have to GO to the rancheros!" and with that, Dylan whisks Kelly off to Cabo San Lucas on his jet. Brilliant!

Dylan: I need to know where we stand

Kelly: And where *do* we stand?

Dylan: I dunno, you tell me.

Brilliant!! And people *wonder* why this show went off the air...

Whooooooo was that first post

Whooooooo was that first post bad. bad bad bad. No more!!

On a less contraversial note, man, the weather is *wierd* today (dammit, I KNOW I spell it wrong every time. It looks right both ways, but don't tell my parents, they'll be pissed that they paid for college)...it's all cloudy with these streaks of sunlight that hurt my eyes like bejesus.

What's bejesus?

be·je·sus (b-jzs, -j-)
n. Slang
Used as an intensive: The bear scared the bejesus out of us.

Ah. Thanks, Dictionary.com.

I am not answering my cell today. It holds no good news.

So does anyone actually read this? ferragamogirl Feel free to email me, I'm somewhat lacking in communication with strangers these days, heh.

"That's My Bush!" is best

"That's My Bush!" is best watched right after watching The West Wing. But that fetus puppet-thing is scary as all hell. I think I'm going to have nightmares about that.

Thank Boy for my newfound television addiction--well, thank Tivo, too. Tivo is God. Get one. Actually, get a friend to go halves on one from Amazon.com. Chances are good that you'll accidentally get two *grin* (Sorry, sweetie). Seriously, I SWEAR that I hardly watched television at all until Boy and his Tivo came along--but there's something magical about being able to reduce two hours of Beverly Hills, 90210 reruns (to be known as Nine-0 from now on, thanks Blondie) into forty minutes of actual tv-watching. I feel much less guilty about watching it at ALL if I'm only spending 40 minutes watching it!

No honey tonight--Reddi-Whip instead! I have a feeling it's going to make me feel barfy, though, slurping up whipped topping after the massive quantities of orange soda I've consumed (and the merlot I had with my ex-housemate)

I *promise* I will not update so often after today--y'all will get used to me being so prolific, then I'll go back to work and you'll start to crave more information about the minute workings of my day, but I'll have a life again where I'll have to spend nine hours a day working for da man and those 15 hours a day that I'm NOT working, I'll want to spend with Boy, or sleeping or drinking orange soda or playing the Sims (Boy, make the Win2K go on the desktop in the bedroom. I need my Sims fix!) or...well, updating this thing. Nevermind.

Short little note before I

Short little note before I meet my ex-housemate for a beer (our landlady decided to kick her out for no apparent reason, so she moved ACROSS THE STREET heh--and now parks in the landlady's parking spot--how much does that kick ass?!?!?! She's more of a bitch than I thought she was, heh.), pick Boy up from work (I can't WAIT until I get my new car--Daddy's almost done paying all my tickets off!), head to Zone's house for the Survivor Party (Nick is going DOWN), then to the Tractor Tavern for some show that everyone from the Survivor Party has decided they want to go to, and then finally home, where, upon arrival, I shall collapse. And Boy and I will play with honey again. "What time is it?" "*ping* It's NAKED TIME!!"

Damn! There was something I meant to say, but I've forgotten. Ah, well. Not like you haven't already heard enough from me today.

Just got done having a

Just got done having a short chat with Blondie--She and Viking made up! Good. I like that he's a perv, it's good for her, heh.

Okay, having another thought (be

Okay, having another thought (be warned--I've got all this time on my hands right NOW, but when I decide to start working again, this will change! Ugh. I can't wait for Boy's work-stock to be worth something so I can have a sugar daddy *grin* Ahh, the life of a dot-commer's girlfriend!)

So this thought--a few minutes ago I made a snide comment about that dumb Dating Story show--but if I were an exec for the WB or UPN or whatever channel Springer is on these days, I'd hop on that Get Me Laid show idea right quick! (yes, I retain all rights to the name and concept.)

As I've been watching this (I know, I told you not to watch it, but it's pathetically addictive. Go on, try watching it, and let the pity party begin. The guy is bland, the chick is worse--but at least she's got a pretty impressive rack!), I've been thanking the Powers That Be that no one has ever set me up on this show.

Whatever you do, do not

Whatever you do, do not watch "A Dating Story" on TLC. *barf* Two pathetic people who aren't photogenic enough to get on The Dating Show or Blind Date or Get Me Laid (whatever those shows are called) get set up by two friends, "fall in love", and move on to "A Wedding Story", which turns into "A Baby Story", which turns into the woman being part of "A Makeover Story" five years later when she's got three kids under the age of seven, hasn't had a night alone since the night before the wedding and self-colors her hair.

Yeesh.

How *do* I manage to be such a bitch? heh.

Boy and I had the

Boy and I had the polyamory conversation again last night over fajitas. He STILL doesn't want me sleeping with Ex--which is not unreasonable in the least, I'd fairly murder him if he did the same--but the idea was under my skin and it itched like mad.

...We always want what we can't have, and I have a problem with wanting what I can't have and isn't right for me. Case in point--that blue-green-swirly-print, above-the-knee, bias-cut sundress with the flirty little hem? Gorgeous. Would have been perfect for our upcoming meet-the-family Florida trip. Hell, it was even on sale! But the color made me look sallow, it fit wrong in the hips, was too big around the bust...and it was perfect for my girlfriend Panda. The dress I went with fits perfectly. Black and white geometric print, asymetric hem--it feels like a dream, and I've never looked better. I love it.

I love what I have, and if I could, I'd wear it every single second of every day. But part of me can't let go of the picture of that swirly blue-green dress.