UVTI

Ok, so I remembered that I never filled y'all in on what went down on Tuesday night at that "information session" I went to with Laura. The program was not sketchy and since attending said info session, I have learned the name of it (I got that much out of it, at least) and that is Upper Valley Teachers Institute (or UVTI hasten to their website for the particulars, I'm too dang pooped to type it all out)

The abridged outcome-- I shan't be joining up. They manage to certify you in that abridged 10 month time period because you're at it 5days a week (1 day of "seminar" and then 4 days in a classroom as a "teaching intern") I'm sure it is a very fine program and every bit as highly regarded as they espouse, but it's better suited to that happy chunk of the population who is independently wealthy, or to couples able to eke out a living on one income. UVTI is federally funded, so I could get state $$ for the tuition, but as for groceries, gas, rent, bills etc. in that 10 month period...I would just have to make up hundreds of persuasively worded I.O.U s in my finest calligraphy , I suppose...

Laura said to me "Oh, well if you moved back home with Mom & Dad you could probably manage it." First of all, the truth of that is doubtful. Secondly, I don't care if it's a 10 month program that turns me into GOD, I'm not moving back in with my parents. Nooooooo thanks.

The definite highlight of the evening was my making an ass of myself with my nerves-induced verbal diarrhea. I was a little embarrassed, but was able to shrug it off easily on account of the good probability that I'd never see any of these people again. More than anything, I was pleased that I'd embarrassed Laura, since it was her STUPID fault I wound up there anyways.

Y'see the pow-wow was held around this long conference table, and there came a point where we were to go around the table, and on our turn we give our names, backgrounds, reasons for coming to the UVTI orientation thingy. You know, the standard shit. Well, everybody is giving a rundown of about the last 15 or 20 years of their lives and many of them had very relevant work experience (substitute teaching, paraeducators of special needs kids, etc) and they ALL have these extensive & very professionally impressive backgrounds and worst of all, they're all giving these very impassioned reasons for wanting to teach. Oy. First off, I was not feeling that I wanted to be all that forthcoming with these yahoos I barely know. And the whole exercise had me feeling out-of-place, and I didn't even really know just why I was there. My insecurities were swiftly awakening and they were pissing all over my natural eloquence. (everything needs a good piss after waking up, you know) I AM eloquent, damn it, but believe me when I say that it's hard to utilize the ol' eloquence when it's all soggy and waterlogged from metaphorical piss. And I wanted to be honest...and yet avoid the total candor of something like: "Hey, I'm not sure yet what the fuck I want to do with mi vida loca, but I sure thought a gig with summers off and beaucoup vaca besides would be rad. Am I right or am I right, people?" What I said was not much better. I actually copped a phrase from the blog post I'd typed about an hour before.

I said (roughly paraphrasing here)-- "Hi, my name is Sandra Lemire. I went to college and got a Bachelor's in World Lit and uhhh, nine years down the road I somehow found myself idling in this cubicle purgatory. I have this inner voice nagging me that I'm not doing with my life what I should be doing with my life...which is not to say I know what I should be doing with my life. So my sister {indicating Laura across the conf. table from me } knowing about this dilemma, suggested last night coming to this meeting. But I didn't really have ANY prior info about the program. So I kind of came here 'cold' ...for all I knew she was taking me to some van with painted-over windows. So I'm very glad to be here. . .in a conference room"

Compared to the other attendees...I was shockingly stingy with the detailed personal info. Surprising, really, that I volunteered my last name. I didn't give my alma mater name, any job history, I didn't give the name of my current company or even say what I do in my current job. Gotta retain that aura of mystery, eh? Well, that wasn't so much my goal but I sure accomplished it!

Also, I came off as very wishy-washy and vague re: my future goals. Although, I've known LOOOONG before Tues. night that I have a problem with that!! I think my trouble with setting professional goals is...well part of me, is exactly like Peter Gibbons (protagonist in the classic Office Space). He's hypothesizing with a friend over what he would do if he were financially set and didn't have to work. And he would do...NOTHING. He would sit on his ass and relax. I can totally see his viewpoint. A big part of me just wants money but doesn't want to work for it. Why should I have dreams of being a teacher? Or a writer? Or a bus driver? Or a butcher, baker , or mothafuckin' candlestick maker? In my heart I often just wanna be a vapid heiress like Paris Hilton, born into a lifetime annuity and picking up an occasional extra 20K to pop into someone's fete and coo "That's HOT!" Ahhhh but life and circumstance will push the whole career thing on me. Bah.

Don't fret my pets. I am not fully delusional. In my brain I realize the independently wealthy train has so left the station and I gotta do something to earn my daily bread (such as it is) And also.... part of the great pie chart that is Sandra feels she should make something of herself...that that's the honorable thing to do. I know....yuck. Do we label that pie wedge, "superego"?"Jiminy Cricket"??

Riddle me THIS, foo'

Above you see a riddle I picked up in my web meanderings. I IMed it to both Lisa and Robin and they were all "Ohhh...I'm too busy with work to figure that out. I'm so diligent and nose-to-the-grindstoney. Ooo!" Well, I'm paraphrasing a bit there, but the fact remains that they wouldn't play at riddles with me. (waah)

It's kind of a bitch of a riddle, and I know it's calling out for an algebraic equation in order to crack it, and for that reason just reading it makes my brain feel all addlepated and ouchy. My immediate reaction was to head right for the answer, but I resisted that impulse until late in the evening. Well to be totally accurate, I didn't seek out the answer. I actually had Greg work on it, (after I'd given up, utterly frustrated) and he thought he'd had it solved but he went online to check the answer and announced he was WRONG ...it was actually the car was 18 months old and the tires were one year old. So it was really GREG who caved and looked up the answer. But uhh, I wouldn't have gotten it in a million years.

Here's another one that I like much better...



Answer is -- Baltimore

**Note: I used hide "secret answers" in my posts by typing them in white, but now that I have reformatted the blog, white text shows up just fine. I can't seem to get the text the exact right shade of purple to render it invisible. Well, this method will have to suffice. I've always wondered what the was the point of having that weirdo "webdings" font, now I guess I know...

if u don't cheat u don't try

I cheated today at "Doritos or Cheetos?" with Robin (reacquaint yourself with THIS post if you find you are perplexed) and got Fritos. It's the first time in a long time I stumped her, but I am more-or-less ethical, and so I assured her that the defeat would not be recorded on her permanent "Doritos or Cheetos?" record.

The other night (Monday, specifically) I came home from shopping at the CoOp (the CoOp is right near Margarita's and Laura & I walked over there after din-din) and it was about 8:40pm. I was ferociously hoping that American Gladiators came on at 9pm but that was sadly not the case. I was hoping for a 9pm start time, but deep down I knew it started up at 8. But they SHOULD start it at 9 and not only because I happened to come home at 8:40 the other night. Think of the children, dammit!! If American Gladiators came on at 9pm--when most kiddies have been tucked into bed-- it would greatly reduce the risk of kids emulating these jackass gladiators. I mean, do we want kids staging makeshift versions of "Joust" with throw pillows strapped to curtain rods?? OK, while it does show some commendable resourcefulness, you would still be pretty annoyed as you drove 'em to the ER.

So as it was, I didn't catch much more than The Eliminator. That was pretty entertaining though. One of the guys, though he wasn't a real commanding physical presence (or didn't appear to be anyway) managed a phenomenal time of 1 min 29 seconds. I was MOST impressed. And then, in contrast, I thought both the female contenders were going to drop. When one of the chicks finally crossed the finish line --well, there's not really a "line" per se...I suppose if I were being accurate I'd call it a "finishing wall" (of blocks)--anyways when one of the ladies finally finished, with all the speed and gusto of a stoned slug, I thought the first phrase she was going to wheeze into the Hulkster's mic was gonna be " I NEED A DOCTOR!" (it wasn't) I concede that if I were able to finish the Eliminator my time would be APPALLING and it might wreck me as well. But I can't help it...these chicks get interviewed before the Eliminator and they're all "Oh, yeah, THIS is really my event. I'm going to rip thru this thing and this is going to land me right in the Top 4". And so you see, I MUST laugh at 'em. Confidence is key, I understand this. But still I would find it SO refreshing if a contender was interviewed before an event and said "This is damned intimidating. I'm scared!!" Also, I am rather a superstitious type...if something like "I'm going to win" and/or "This is my event" sprang outta my mouth, I'd immediately thereafter think "Ohhh, SNAP! I just jinxed myself".

So after 20min. of American Gladiators, I put in my rad new DVD of "Harold & Kumar go to White Castle". I am not oblivious to how very stupid that movie is but it cracks me up nonetheless. Even the gross part with Freakshow and the Mrs. ...when they show him working on the car and singing (singing alone the 2 different parts of a call & response gospel song -"Hey Randy? ...What?") that CRACKS.MY.SHIT.UUUUP. Hys-friggen-sterical! I also love Harold's screaming fit after his car is stolen. By NPH, as it happens. I would be remiss if I didn't mention his pivotal cameo...who doesn't love NPH? Really...seriously..tell me who. I will hunt them down.

Oh wait...thought of somebody... Heather probably doesn't like NPH. Tuesday a.m. were rehashing our viewing choices of the previous night and when I mentioned watching Harold & Kumar, Heather responded "How can you watch stupid shit like that?" Hullo? This is the very same Heather who once espoused her love for the Cheech & Chong movie Nice Dreams. Yeah... Hi, Pot ? Remember me--Kettle? I do believe our black arses have met previously....

Heath Ledger dead. Holy shit... how awful.

Every Brown in Town

My wardrobe goal today was to incorporate this totally cuddly chunky knit scarf that I got from my sis for Christmas. It's this dark brown with glittery threads in it. I guess it's dark brown , but the more I stare at it the more it looks like it might be dark brown with eggplantish undertones or just entirely eggplant colored. I'm not sure. I think I need my garment care tags to state somewhere on them a color name so it's not left up to my own judgement. This tag only tells me it's 100% Acrylic and from H&M (which I mightily appreciate...the H&M part, that is) So I didn't quite know how to mesh my outdoor accessories with indoor attire so I decided just to match "cuddly" with "snuggly" and wore my favorite cardigan. It's this shapeless shaggy thing that totally makes me think of Obi Wan Kenobe (the Ewan McGregor version..maybe that's why I LOVE it so!) It's a taupe colored sweater so it doesn't match up with the scarf so well. And then I thought I'd muddle things further with a tan tee shirt...clip on a tortoiseshell hair clip...throw on my light brown faux uggs.. It's a good thing my brown cords were in the wash(wound up wearing jeans instead) or I would have gone beyond overkill on the color. I would not look entirely out of place sheparding llamas in the Andes or somethin' like that. However, I did put on these lovely earrings I got from Jilly for Christmas. Well, they're in tones of brown too, but they're tres chic and the only thing that lets on that I'm really not a llama farmer.

Maybe psychically I got some telepathic memo from Robin. She had brown on today too. Laurel too. Eerie, no?

Today for lunch I had curried chicken salad (yum!) and 1/2 a container Moroccan beet salad (ugh... I made myself eat 1/2 the container...because beets are sooo good for me but...I repeat...UGH.. And I am the self-proclaimed kindred spirit of Captain Vegetable, so you KNOW it was seriously loathsome.)

I'm going tonight with Laura to some informational meeting about classes to become a teacher. She told me about it last night when we went to Margaritas-- apparently anyone with a bachelor's degree (I gots one) is eligible for this 10 month program that, if passed, nets you a teaching degree. According to L, the program has very high job placement. I've been told before that I should get in to the teaching racket, but I've just never thought it was a great idea for me to be molding & shaping young minds, y'know?? On the other hand, what's not to like about summers off and beaucoup holidays in between summers? I dunno. I'm mostly going because Laura's wanting to check it out and is not wanting to fly solo. But, I will have an open mind. Although, as you may have surmised, I have scant details about this program... let's hope I don't discover this "information session" is held in some van with painted-over windows....

The Triumphant Return of Cap'n Vegetable

The weekend was low-key and low-budget (just what I was requiring).

I hung out with the folks, did laundry & played Bejeweled (that game puts me in a damn trance!!) on Saturday and made a boiled dinner on Sunday. I had a ham to use up that the co. gave me last month for Christmas. I added beets to the boiled dinner, which is new for me.

I believe I was probably influenced by this article I read "The 10 Best Foods You're Not Eating" a list on which beets was the numero uno. Also on there was cabbage, which I LOVE and I do always put into my boiled dinner, but this time I doubled the amount (2 heads be better than 1, I say). Don't worry that I was overly swayed by this list--I managed to refrain from using guava or goji berries. But, aside from the aforementioned beets & cabbage, I put in beaucoup veggies : parsnips, carrots, onions, rutabaga, turnip, potatoes. It didn't seem like a ton of food when I was cooking, but--oy!!- after dinner, when I went to store the leftovers in Tupperware, I realized there was enough boiled dinner to feed a small country. (Liechtenstein, for instance) I sent some leftovers to my aunt & uncle but my parents will still be eating boiled dinner for at least a week.

Also on Sunday I was hell-bent on catching Masterpiece Theater ( Northanger Abbey this week) from the very beginning--regardless of where I happened to be at 9pm. Previously, I missed out on the 1st half hour of Persuasion and that pissed me off immensely (as you may well know). So, around 8pm ( when it became clear to me that I was not going to return to my abode until Monday) I slipped into the livingroom where my Dad was watching the Giants-Packers game. Now at that precise moment, he'd left the game to stoke the fire in the woodstove in the garage, so I was able to get my mitts on the remote. Dish allows you to set a timer for a program that will automatically switch the TV on to that channel at the start of the program. I rather surreptitiously set this timer for PBS at 9pm. So an hour later, I'm doing dishes and my Dad hollers to me, in a sort of befuddled voice, "Uhh, Masterpiece Theatre is on." And I'm all "Ohh!! I WANTED to watch that! However did you know??" And he's like "Did you do something with the remote?" It sure can be handy (sometimes) to be the most
technologically advanced in your clan.

I'd done a bit of research and saw that there was a later showing (at 1am) , so I offered to watch that if Dad was deeply invested in the Giants-Packers game. But, amazingly, he said Masterpiece Theater was OK and to leave it on. Maybe not so amazing...I did, after all, just prepare a ginormous ham. So, yeah, moral of the story: you can gain a good deal of clout in my family if you employ a bribe of HAM.
My Dad actually sat there in the armchair & watched Northanger Abbey with me. It was mildly annoying really...occasionally he would pipe in with the unnecessary query of "You like this stuff, huh?" To which, I just replied, "Yup". (I was so glad to be catching MT in its entirety that I didn't even bother with sarcasm. ) Also he kept nodding off and when he would wake up he'd ask questions about what was going on "Where is she now?Did they kick her out? What happened?" That was more irksome, but I was certainly inclined to cut some slack. I had offered to watch the 1am airing, but really didn't want to (as I had to wake up at 6:30am).
At times I had a tinges of guilt for monopolizing the TV and subjecting him to Jane Austen. I mean, I love the stuff, but it's a mite too frou-frou for most males I know. Ok, well ALL the menfolk I know. I really have no idea why Dad didn't retreat to the kitchen to read the paper (I'd expected him to).

Here's a wee taste of what I subjected the poor guy to...(oh by the way- if ever you intend to view this movie, and you're not keen on spoilers, DO NOT click the play arrow. This is the very end of it...the happily-ever-after bit...)

It's Monday again...

... and I'm back to pondering oddball shit. This cubicle does strange shit to my brain. So the fixation du jour: Richard Dawson. Well, it's not like it's totally out of the blue. Here follows the chain of banter that led me to Sir Dawson...


Robin was telling me about this high school crush of hers that she described as a "bad boy". And I said a bad boy in Claremont was apt to be seriously bad..he must have wound up in the hoosgow at some point. This remark launched me on a tangent about the word "hoosgow" which is my preferred euphemism for jail just because it strikes me as so off the wall. I actually learned the word from an episode of Family Feud where one of the questions was "Name a slang term for prison" and hoosgow--if you can believe it-- was THE #1 ANSWER! This totally floored me (particularly since I'd never heard of "hoosgow" at that point). How did "hoosgow" beat out "slammer"?? I always wondered how & where they conducted their "Survey Sez..." surveys. Whenever they made mention of The SURVEY on FF, I had this silly notion in my head of Mark Goodson Productions staffers (well, probably interns ) going door -to-door with clipboards (like doing the census) "Hello ma'am...are you familiar with the television program FAMILY FEUD?? Well, if I could have a moment of your time..." That's right boy...open with "Family Feud" ...they will be powerless to deny you once they know that Family Feud is involved. Anyways, I'm wondering if the "Name a slang term for prison" survey was conducted entirely in a state that has wonky oddball dialect in general... like maybe Minnesota or thereabouts. Anyways, had I been a contestant on that FF episode I would've objected. "Ah, Richard, no sir. I don't buy it. I would like to SEE the survey, if I can please.." So anyways I was exclaiming to Robin the utter ridiculousness of "hoosgow" being the #1 slang term for prison, and I added "well, I get very worked up watching Family Feud anyways" But then I further stipulated: "well, just when I watch the Richard Dawson-hosted episodes."

And thusly I came to be contemplating the fascinating Mr Richard Dawson. Presently, I feel the most astounding thing about him is that he truly is RETIRED. It seems to me to be a rare thing for someone in show biz to really retire, stick to it, and be content with it. I say --Good for you, Dawson!! To hell with fame--just golf, and travel and spend your money! Cheers! On the other hand, I wouldn't mind seeing him on the telly again.
Anyways, as is my custom when my mind is in thrall to some arbitrary subject, I hastened to wikipedia to do some half-ass research. Here are 3 things I learned...
1. He was the motivation for the-powers-that-be @ The Match Game to change the bonus round to include a "celeb panelist wheel" the contestant had to spin to determine which celeb they would team up with to play the bonus round. Previously, the contestant simply picked which celeb they wanted to work with. Well, after Dawson had been a Match Game regular for a while, contestants were SO apt to choose him as a bonus round partner (wiki more specifically claims "most contestants would choose him 3 to 1 over the other five panelists ") that they instituted said wheel. After I read this, I reminisced over my own limited viewership of Match Game (I was on quite a Match Game kick for a while actually) and it made perfect sense. Dawson was always my favorite panelist--for many reasons, with one of them being that he was the only one on the show who consistently had his wits about him.

2. Richard is currently married to some Gretchen lady *whom he met when she was a Family Feud contestant in the early '80s* This amuses me immensely. It made me think "So his trademark smoochiness was not just for show, eh?" Remember that? He was all over the contestants. That's why the guy--in my book-- is THE host of Family Feud. He hosted the hell outta that show AND made being a total lech look cool. Al Borlin could not pull that off, dude.
3. There is actually a fan site called The Richard Dawson Experience. I have provided here a link but feel free to skip it. It's one of those "angelfire" pages and every bit as crappy as those sites tend to be. Without ever beholding the site, the mere fact that there is an existant "Richard Dawson Experience" webpage strikes me as damn funny. I had a quick peek around the site (no in-depth spelunking) but I read the bio of this site proprietor that just makes me feel tremendously cool by comparison. (shit, that's quite catty. I may be cool/coolish now, but I am bound for hell for sure. Specifically that ring reserved for petty, mean, girls) Site master is, surprisingly not 56, she is 26 and it sounds, from my cursory psycho-analysis of her self-penned bio, like she's got her share of social handicaps to contend with.

the huffle of a snail in DANGER!!

I had to post this A.A. Milne poem because it is beaucoup ADORABLE (I particularly like that phrase " huffle of a snail in danger" and I wonder at what such a huffle sounds like exactly..)

Appreciation of this poem is especially apropos today as A.A. Milne was born Jan 18, 1882.

The Four Friends

Ernest was an elephant, a great big fellow,

Leonard was a lion with a six foot tail

George was a goat, and his beard was yellow,

And James was a very small snail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leonard had a stall, and a

great big strong one,

Earnest had a manger, and its walls were thick,

George found a pen, but I think it was the wrong one

And James sat down on a brick

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Earnest started trumpeting, and cracked

his manger,

Leonard started roaring, and shivered his stall,

James gave a huffle of a snail in danger

And nobody heard him at all

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Earnest started trumpeting and raised such a rumpus,

Leonard started roaring and trying to kick,

James went on a journey with the goats new compass

And he reached the end of his brick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ernest was an elephant and very well intentioned,

Leonard was a lion with a brave new tail,

George was a goat, as I think I have mentioned,

but James was only a snail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~FIN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How freakin' adorable is that??
We also have Milne to thank for this (was going to embed the vid, but I didn't want it to have to compete with Revolutionary War hero Grover from earlier).

Uhhh, behind-the-scenes note here...blogger is PISSING ME RIGHT THE &^%#@ OFF. It seems to have problems taking instruction when I'm misappropriating famous poetry or something... it wouldn't let me insert a line of space between stanzas and then it wouldn't accept any space between the poem's end and "How freakin' adorable is that?" MOST irksome. The only way I could rig the post so that it looked halfway decent is to fill the "space" with characters. Hence my excess of ~~~ in this friggen' post.

Grr. Anyways...ciao babies. Hope y'all have a terrif weekend!

GROVER & a side order of US History

I love this...



Now, I know that the Delaware River region must have been a mite chilly that December but still... does this not look like a North Pole set??? Ahh whatever.. I really love that swanky voice they gave Washington....

Bitching & Moaning

I know today is GROVER FRIDAY and I fully intend to continue that tradition, but I have to first post my kvetchings about SCORECARDS.


This is this utterly moronic waste of time that I have to engage in today, as our personal scorecards are due in by the end of today and I have deferred the displeasure until the very last minute.


Take a look at this idiot form I have to fill out & turn in to the bosslady--


If this was more than a moot formality, if it had any impact at all on my paycheck, then maybe I wouldn't be so dismissive of (and annoyed by)the practice. But it's naught more than another hoop for us peons to jump through, and I haaaaate it!!

I keep coming back to the movie The Breakfast Club, specifically how Anthony Michael Hall "takes one for the team" and writes the detention essay for everybody. I wish one of my coworkers was noble like that (and would either do my scorecard or do one collective scorecard for everybody) Heather also has put off her scorecard 'til this afternoon , and she appealed to me to do hers too. Her argument? "But you're so ELOQUENT!" Ahh, flattery will get you everywhere, dear. . . most of the time.
Unfortunately, eloquence is no asset when it comes to this task. They don't want your eloquence, they want you to parrot back their corporate jibba-jabba. I don't quite have the stomach for it. I suppose I can see the need for boorish self-promotion when you write a resume (still, I'm really horrible at resume writing) because you're trying to snag a job. But once I have a job, I don't want to have to regularly compose a treatise (even a treatise in Microsoft Excel format) about how I'm a valuable addition to the g-damn team. My performance should speak for itself. Management can see whether I'm doing a good job or not, why do I have to tell them I'm doing a good job (or not)? Do I think they genuinely give a rat's arse about how I think I am doing? Are they going to give this as much weight as their own perception? HELL NO.

And yet...and yet....

It's a good thing to have a job...especially when you are the friggen mayor of Debt City. So I'm going to go do my scorecard now. But I REFUSE to cease the mumbling of profanity while I do it....it helps me get in the proper "zone"

a soupçon of banter...

"Soupçon", by the way, is a new acquisition to my vocabulary. You know how I quite enjoy the sporadic lapse into français . This new term means a trace, a little bit. (Pronunciation available here , if you genuinely give a shite) The sound of it is a little to pretentious to be slipped casually into discussion, but I think I will throw it into my written patter on occasion.

Another thing I learned about today is "tilting at windmills". I didn't so much learn it as rediscover it. See, I'd read that today is the 403rd anniversary of the first publication of Cervantes' Don Quixote . And that got me to mulling over the term "tilting at windmills" which I'd heard before, and I knew it owed its origins to Cervantes' big novel, but I wasn't entirely sure what it meant. I haven't ever read Don Quixote but I did know there were windmills in it, that the titular Don hallucinates to be something else. Anyways I looked up "tilting at windmills" and got the full 411...

"Tilting at windmills is an English idiom which means "attacking imaginary enemies." The word “tilt,” here, means “fight.” This idiomatic phrase originated in the novel Don Quixote, and is often used today in reference to persistent engagement in a futile activity. At one point in the novel, Don Quixote fights windmills that he imagines to be giants. Quixote sees the windmill blades as the giant's arms "

I think it was the use of the word "tilting" to mean "attacking" that threw me off. But anyways....me likey. It's a rather poetic turn of phrase. Not only do I want to integrate it into everday conversation more frequently, but it also has the makings of a marvelous title. Y'know like "chartreuse poop" from last week.

THIS seems like common knowledge. Who exactly needed a poll to figure this out?

I'M not scared of clownies. . . but I know about a hundred people who are.

Fibs....

I was watching TV with Lucy and Sadie last night and Sadie says to me-apropos of nothing-- "People shouldn't pick their nose a lot, because it will bleed. Right, Auntie?"
This, I presume, is some alarmist propaganda propagated by Laura because she's grossed out watching her kids pick their nose all the time. I happen to be a frequent nasal excavator and know for a fact that it doesn't induce bleeding. (yikes!) So, while I was compelled to reply "Hogwash! Dig on, Li'l Digger...no harm shall befall you" I dare not overtly naysay my sister. So after a contemplative pause I instead answered "Hmm. I don't know. Depends on what you pick with"

I was recalling this episode this morning and it moved me to think of those funny little white lies fed to us by our parents. I brought it up as fodder for office discourse, but Heather (who has a 3yr old named Hailey) insisted she never fibs to her daughter. I'm going to give her the bennie of the d and pretend she's for real about that. So, yeeeeah, I am just in awe of her then. I can't fathom raising a kid (or plural kids) without the aide of little white lies.

Two from my childhood immediately spring to mind...

The first one is sorta along the lines of my sister's nose picking lie. . . but grosser. I remember my mother saying, on several occasions, that excessive time on the toilet would give one hemorrhoids. (quick tangent: WHY is hemorrhoids so hard to spell? I had to rely on the Merriam Webster site to assist me. It's a really fucked up spelling--that 2nd "h" in particular. That's just needless..) I don't recall spending oodles of time on the toilet, but I must have been too poky for my mother's liking. And really, to be honest, if there was a Woman's World lying around, I am prone to reading on the can.

Also really funny is that on the rare occasion when me and/or my sister were being hellacious, and her standard "Wait until YOUR FATHER gits home!!" was proving ineffectual (I dunno, perhaps it's around noon and, with over 5 hrs until Dad's ETA, it just was not an imminent enough threat) she would make a pretend call. To the po-po. "Yes, Officer Smith. My children are being criminally naughty. Will you please come and arrest them?" This only really worked on me. My sister never bought it for a second but would let me panic for 10 min or so. Obviously she only attempted this a coupla times, because : a) it too was ineffectual and b) even I would've caught on if she pulled this frequently.
I suppose there were a thousand other fibs & ruses employed in my upbringing. These stick out in my memory because they were so big & ludicrous. The really good lies I either forgot or never knew about...

Sign That I Need to Cut Down on the Multi-tasking

So today at work I was en route to the ladies room and I grabbed one of these lens cleaning moist towelettes out of the dispenser hung up on the wall. See, I knew I was about to have a few moments of downtime...and I was damned well going to be efficient about it (y'know--empty bladder, clean glasses, that whole 2birds/1 stone paradigm)

OK cut to 1.3 seconds later, and, well not to be too graphic but, I'm uhh, shall we say, enthroned, and about to commence with the glasses-washing.While I'm ripping open this little towelette packet, my ripping hand knocks into my glasses-holding hand and my glasses sprang outta my grasp and-- SPLURRRSH!-- landed right in the toilet. Oh yes. The toilet I had just pissed in, as it so happens. So that was just g.d. LOVELY.

And, like I said, possibly an indication that I multi-task excessively...

Comanche Moon

Apart from this Muppet Show kick, the only other thing I've been watching is this Comanche Moon miniseries. Interesting juxtaposition. Here is some visual aide goodness...

IMDB won't let you "steal" (right click & save) any of their publicity stills so I had to work around that by alt+Print Screen , pasting my screen caps into Paint, and then selecting just the desired pic, copy & paste to a new Paint doc. Now, since I had to go thru all that rigamarole, I figure I might as well get some collage action happenin'.

In the upper left hand pic we have a character called "Famous Shoes" (guess which one?) which I mention simply because that's one of the more awesome Indian names I've ever heard. If I were an Indian, I would like a name like that, although I feel sure they didn't just arbitrarily name themselves. One would have to earn a nickname. I imagine Famous Shoes got his on account o' him being a much sought-after scout.(But what do I know??) Also worth noting about Famous Shoes...he is a Kickapoo. Huh ha huh-huh..kickapoo.

In the lower picture we see the fabulous Val Kilmer who plays Inish Scull. He doesn't look like this in most of the movie (thus far anyhow....part III airs tonight) he looks like roadkill. But ol' Val Kilmer is charming enough to transcend any grody exterior. He's got a different accent but is sort of channeling his inner Doc Holiday (from Tombstone which indisputably owes 99.9% of its rad-ness to Kilmer's Doc). He gets taken prisoner and is hanging there in this primitive stick-work cage (as I recall him doing in some scene in Willow ) and he is belting out opera in German (which he did NOT do in Willow) to keep his spirits up...I SO appreciate that. I should like to learn to sing opera in some foreign language just for the remote possibility that I am taken captive and I'll have this grand and fabulous way to simultaneously keep my spirits up and annoy the piss outta my captors. That would be great, but 'tis pretty ambitious, so my back-up goal is to master the Modern Major General song (no bilingualism required...just monster lung capacity). Anyways back to the Inish Scull character...near the end of his confinement he's looking a bit like Kilmer did in The Doors but the bloated, death's-door version of Jim Morrison....plus scabs and fleas.

Karl Urban (upper right side pic) gets featured here solo because .. .siiigh....he is just FINE. In a very smoldery sorta way. Which is not to belittle the draw of Steve Zahn (upper left pic, crotch shot) . I LOVE Steve Zahn. He's not real smoldery, but he has his own appeal. I think the most applicable adjective would be "adorable". Is it insulting to call a grown man adorable? Sorry Zahn, but you are.

Judging from most of the rumblings on IMDB, the majority of viewers kinda detest this movie. Seems though, that most detractors are these diehard Western buffs/people who've read the source novel. Don't know why these people should be all crotchety...Larry McMurtry had a big hand in the screenplay...so if he doesn't take umbrage with deviations from the book then..then..just simmer the hell down. But admittedly, I am dabbler in this genre so am consequently very easy to please. I look at a Western like it's any other period drama...like to look at the men in old timey threads, and care more about the romantic denoument than I do about the horsemanship or the authenticity of the Comanche dialect or what have you. Although, the romantic denouement in this prequel is a foregone conclusion (a shitty one) as I've seen Lonesome Dove and therefore know that McCrae & Call wind up lonely old workaholic geezers. But still, I find it an enjoyable enough way to pass 2hrs...on account of Zahn's utter affability (rather, his adorable affability) Kilmer's quirk, and Urban's hot silent smolderyness (I mean, he's seriously silent... they give him an approximate 2 minutes of total dialogue per 2 hr installment).

Ah, 'tis the Circle of Life

Some cheerier news to offset my last posting...

"Stoked and wowed" huh? I am charmed by that quote from his online journal. Only the Great McConaughey-hey-hey could phrase it like that and come off charmingly offbeat and not just WEIRD.

How SAD

Brad Renfro dead at 25...

the look of my current desktop

I went with vintage fashion illustration...

Historical Niblets

Here are some interesting happenings from January 15ths of yore (let it be noted: interesting happenings that are not famous birthdays. See, I have a bit of range-- I do general history!!)


January 15th 1885-- Wilson "Snowflake" Bentley takes the first ever photograph of a snowflake.



January 15th 1919-- The Boston MOLASSES Disaster
Ok, it was (as the name suggests) a disaster and a tragic one with 21 deaths and over 100 injuries. But I think, 89 years later enough time has passed that I can snigger at this without seeming horribly insensitive. You can avail yourself of the above link and read ALL about it, but I must paste just this wee excerpt --

"..occurred on January 15 1919, in the North End neighborhood of Boston, Massachussets . .. A large molasses tank burst and a wave of molasses rushed through the streets at an estimated 35 mph (56 km/h), killing 21 and injuring 150. The event has entered local folklore, and residents claim that on hot summer days the area still smells of molasses. "

When we do not learn from history's mistakes we are doomed to repeat them (that's somebody-or-other's famous quote that I bastardized there) and clearly what is to be learned from this calamity is that one should NOT underestimate molasses. Seems its poky reputation is quite misleading. Sure, 35 mph is not breaking the flippin' sound barrier...but it ain't too shabby (in JANUARY no less!!)

I told Heather that I may procure a/ some molasses cookie(s) for an apres din-din snack for tonight. A "cookie of remembrance" of sorts. . .

the CULTURE I missed out on in my formative years!!

One of my more frivolous recent purchases is Season One of The Muppet Show on DVD. I'm buying stuff outta order, as I'd already picked up Season Two. My consumer Achilles heel extends to all things Henson, though, as I am also proud owner of Sesame Street Old School DVD sets--volume 1 and 2. I try to get people (namely, my sis and parents) to buy this stuff for me for birthdays/ Christmas but they NEVER take the hint! Or maybe, the hint is taken, capably perceived, but my sister/parents just can't bring themselves to buy The Muppet Show for a 30 year old. Hell, I have no problem with it..don't know why it should bother them.

Since TV has been utter crap for ohhh, about a month now (with the notable exceptions of Comanche Moon & Jane Austen January) I've been watching a lot of DVDs. And since getting Muppet Show Season 1 --just last Fri night-- I've been watching that. The DVDs have this bonus feature they dub "Muppet Morsels" which has relevant trivia pop up onscreen during the episode. So, it's The Muppet Show a la Pop-up Video. Anyways, this trivia text always mentions--during these absolutely terrific Rowlf sketches-- "This was a UK spot, originally unaired in the U.S." I feel so GYPPED!! First off, let it be known that Rowlf is my most favorite Muppet. Well..he ties with Grover. But as Muppet Show Muppets go, he is numero uno. And these UK bits were all very culturally rich sketches (relatively speaking). To think, I was deprived of this so I could be subjected to extra commercials?? Really burns my Eggos, man.

I guess there is no better way to fully drive my point home than to give you a li'l taste of what we US tots missed out on...

In answer to Sam's query...I have posted below the definition of "obdurate" (a smashing vocab word, methinks)

Another fine sketch...Beethoven is the cat's jammies.....

I had a swell weekend.


Slept in till quarter of noon on Saturday and then mooched a free lunch off my parents. I was going to be a good li'l poppet and get something small or even (if I was really virtuous) a salad. But I was eyeballing the "Steakburgers" on the 99 menu and I was SOOO hankering for protein. They have really terrif burgers at the 99. So yeah, I went with the bacon cheeseburger.


Later..I watched Zodiac. Overall, I liked it. It piqued my interest in that whole Zodiac Killer case...as it is I tend to be drawn to those more macabre bits of history. I'm not much of a Jake Gyllenhall fan but there were other swell actors in the flick to enjoy--most notably Robert Downey Jr (but also I like Mark Ruffalo & Donal Logue) . I gotta say though -- the movie's got a 157 minute run time but I felt like I was watching for the full 34 years that the narrative spans. To me, the standout scary moment was that quick cameo by Ione Skye (as a motorist in DEEP distress ).

Then Sunday I picked up Roxanny and took a cruise up to Burlington. We met up with Jill at Breugger's Bagels for lunch and then the happy trio bummed around the Church St vicinity all day. Had a delish Mexican din-din. It was a very good day... I'm thankful the snowstorm held off until very early 1/14 a.m. to commence.

Sunday night I had a telly conflict-- have been wanting to see Comanche Moon for a while, but also Jane Austen January was starting up on PBS, and y'all know what an utter FREAK I've been about that. Oh, just to fully illustrate the depth of my fanaticism..I should detail in just what manner I watched Persuasion (yep, I opted to tape Comanche, so all is not lost). The movie started at 9pm and I didn't get home until 9:25 or so and I was all in a dither about missing the beginning. So I walked in the door--having a slight urge to use the loo--but instead went directly to the couch, flicked on to PBS. I thought...my urinary needs can wait until the first commercial break. Hey..tip for any newcomers to Masterpiece Theater (or those like me who haven't watched it in quite a while) there are NO commercial breaks. I watched the entire rest of the movie with my jacket on , keys on my belly, and I didn't go to the bathroom until the damn thing was over. I mean, I didn't examine it at the time, but looking at it retrospectively, that seems a smidgen, ummmm, extremist to me. Ah well.

It still PISSES me off that I missed such a hunk of the movie. I mean, I know the story, so it's not as if I didn't know what was going on. But I am nonetheless vexed. I am, with all movies, fanatical about watching them from the absolute beginning. I'm not one of those people who can be flipping around the channels and see a movie I've wanted to see that's already progressed 1/3 the way through and sit there and watch it. I just can't bear to watch it. Not even if it's a movie I know & love, have seen 500 times and know the dialogue verbatim. I still have to catch it totally ab ovo, or skip it entirely.

So, knowing this quirk of mine, it really speaks volumes (about how stoked I was for Jane Austen January) that I even watched the remainder of Persuasion.

Unintentional Pattern

Grover Fridays all January long here at your fave blog!!

I totally didn't mean to get all Grovery two Fridays in a row but I certainly am not displeased by the trend. Y'all know I heart the guy.

I'm gonna keep it up for the remainder of the month...

Piiiick a pecka peppers

This is to compensate for the fact that I can't bring myself to compose a proper post today.


I watched this this past Sunday with Lucy (on one o' my Sesame Street Old School Volume 2 DVDs) and all afternoon thereafter I couldn't stop myself from singing "Piiiick a pecka peppers" (more in the manner of Grover than Kahn). I defy you to watch it and not be affected the same way...

Burrrrrrito Especiale

MMMMmmm I am so blissed out on my delicious Mexican lunchie that I can't even come up with anything to say.

Well nothing besides: MMmmmmmmmmm

Celebrity birthdays...the refuge of the weary blogger. Well, I guess that's not universally true. I tend to fall back on said topic, that's for sure. But I really only share these when they're somewhat interesting. I mean, it's not as if I'm composing paragraphs in tribute to Brian Austen Green's birthday or anything. Sorry to slight BAG, there, but I felt it necessary to illustrate that, though I might be doling out uninspired triviality here, I am not quite scraping the bottom of that barrel yet.

Anyways...January 10th b-days of note...let's do this thang...


ETHAN ALLEN ..born this day in 1738. Unless you're a historian-type or a proud Vermonter, you're thinking "Furniture guy?" There is a furniture brand named after E, but as far as I know, he didn't himself craft furniture. He could've if he wanted, of that I have no doubt. Ethan was sooo boss. If I were born 237 years or so earlier than I was, I mighta been a militia wench/groupie. Now I'm just an ordinary wench and it's not nearly so charming nowadays.

CHARLES INGALLS **AND** MARY INGALLS (1836 &1865 respectively)

How kooky is that shit? Charles & Caroline's firstborn was born on his birthday!! (His 29th birthday, if you're all insistent I do the math about it) Y'know, back in my faithful Little House viewing days, I always perceived a slight favoritism toward Laura on Pa's part. Most obviously, with the whole nickname snub. Pa was always "Half-pint this" and "Half-pint that" and "Yadda yadda yadda Half-pint. Awww, Half-pint!" but I don't recall him calling Mary anything other than. . .Mary. I'd dismissed it though. I thought I may have misapprehended the case, on account of my own bias toward Laura. And even if that favoritism were there and deliberate, I figured that element was fictionalized for the TV show. This fact has me thinking...perhaps not. I mean, he had to share all of his birthdays with her. If you're any sort of birthday fiend that's got to annoy you somewhat. Or maybe he just didn't like having a blind kid. JUST KIDDING!! TV Pa was completely awesome about it. I haven't read any of those books but I'm sure Book Pa was equally awesome. Real Life Pa...well, certainly he might've struggled but he seems like a decent enough fellow, I'm sure he was more or less awesome about it (I'd like to think so anyways). So I'm sure Pa was just as good to Mary as he was to Two Ounce. But not in RealLife Mary's favor is the sad fact that Adam Kendall was a totally made up dude and she never got to actually marry a hunky blind guy (or any guy for that matter). Perhaps it was just the show writers' small way of establishing a measure of justice in the world. Sure, Mary went blind and that is a fer-sure pisser...but the Little House writers evened the score by hooking her up with that dreamy Adam while Laura wound up with amiable-enough-but-not-nearly-so-handsome Almanzo. And to further balance the scales, they didn't change Almanzo's dorky first name.

Real life?? Not quite so fair & even.


And slightly more recently in famous b-days ..Grigori "Mad Monk" Rasputin was born Jan 10 1869. I don't really want to re-hash Rasputin's epic bio, but I can't refrain from mentioning the weird mythos of dead 'sputin's wang . So, Marie Rasputin (Mad Monk's daughter) acquired the member sometime in the 20s from some coven of Russian she-loonies, and when Marie died (in 1977) this dude Michael somebodyorother bought a slew of her belongings (member included) which he then parlayed to Bonham's auction house and auction house experts soon identified the supposed "penis" as a sea cucumber. That's right -A SEA CUCUMBER! That's effing hysterical!!! Ok wait, wait...




That anecdote is much more comical when accompanied by a photo of a sea cucumber.







Here we go.












But heeey, with or without visual aide, that's funny shit there. Consider the 2 possible situations...
Scenario A: Someone probably thought themselves quite clever in engineering this switcheroo. Somewhere in this bizarre chain of acquisition, some smartass said to themselves "We've replaced your revered Russian phallic artifact with a shrivelled up echinoderm. Let's see if anyone notices, shall we?" It's totally like those rad old Folger's Crystals commercials...except with famous mad monk penii.
Scenario B: Rasputin had a sea cucumber penis. Need I explain how that's funny?

chartreuse poop

This term is something my sister said on the phone today that's been resonating in my head. I talked to Lucy for a bit (and I must here interject that she is exceptionally intelligible on the phone for a wee moppet of 3yrs old. Easier to talk to on the phone than my mom is) and she told me she had a "bad poop". Laura evidently didn't find "bad" to be a descriptive enough adjective, because when she got back on the phone she further enlightened me that Lucy had a CHARTREUSE b.m. Lovely.
Maybe it's the repeated "oo" sound that makes it such a catchy set of words. It's got the makings of a smashing title of somethin'-or-other. A book of poetry? An album? Hmm.. dunno. I don't quite have a use for it at the moment, but if ever I'm publicly racking my brain for a title suggestion for somethin'-or-other, remember to lob that suggestion at me, OK??

Here's a news item that caught my eye. Another case of "WHYYYY DO I READ THIS STUFF?" (like yesterday's post...incrementally less revolting) OK, in light of the Revelations passage they cite in the article, I can kinda see this dude's bat-guano-loco rationale but the question that remains, methinks, is : why microwave the hand?? Was that to ensure it couldn't be re-attached? Perhaps he simply got his Hot Pocket and his severed hand switched around in the most grisly case of absent mindedness EVER.

Now, from time to time I like to cleanse my mental palette (after reading up on all the day's homicidal maniacs/bizarro dismemberments, etc) with a cute little "soft news" piece such as a new baby at the zoo. And so I click on "Rare baby aye aye born at Bristol Zoo". After looking at the accompanying photos, methinks the name for this exotic mammal should be aagh-AAAGH! I think the images of that yucky little varmint are going to give me worse nightmares than the "mark of the beast hand microwaver guy". I will , of course, give you a link but I forewarn you it's only for the stout hearted. Eeek..that second picture, especially looks like some phony composite created by Weekly World News using their archaic Photoshop methods (à la BAT BOY )

Holy ChartreusePoop Batboy, I know I've been a smidge link-happy today (on account o' me being still to feeble to generate any original wit) but I do heartily recommend that last link. Having passed up all issues of WWN (Batboy related or otherwise) with an offended sneer, this is the first I've read of Batboy's epic life story. That half- bat freakshow sure has been busy while I've been ignoring him all these years...

aaaaaaaaaaagh!

WHY do I read shit like this???

Red Gatorade--Nectar of the Gods

So accustomed have I become to these abbreviated work weeks that my system just would not allow me to come in to the office Monday for a full 5 day work week. Its subtle way of urging me to take the day off was simultaneous shitting & vomitting at 6:30am. Well, ostensibly I had a stomach bug, but I think my body coulda had ulterior motives. So the shitting & vomitting continued until just after noon (uhh, intermittently& not continuously, I should point out) but I felt horrid all day. I had cold sweats and I couldn't get comfortable. Am better today but I still have a headache & sore ribs.

Sorry to be so gripey.

I couldn't help but think (even though I knew it was a stupid & shallow thing to think) if only I could maintain this appetite, it would make it ever so much easier to succeed with that "drop some lbs" New Years' Resolution. Yesterday, all food seemed totally repugnant to me, the only things I could bear ingesting were cold water, ice chips, Flav-R-Ice, & Fruit Punch flavored Gatorade. I was a FIEND with the Gatorade. I don't know what it was about the red Gatorade, but it seemed to me yesterday to be just the best thing EVER. Really...I was compelled to make creepy incoherent groans of pleasure as I drank it.

In other, less grody news, we threw a surprise 70th birthday bash for my Dad on Saturday night. Except he had his suspicions and he was a total jackass about making it clear that he knew what was going on the whole time.

regressing again

That was totally one of my fave books as a wee Sanny. Now, you can read it online anytime you like!!

I heart technology.

Now THIS is an epic battle if e'er there was one!!!

Lunch aftereffects and OJ commercial obsesssing...

I was mighty proud of last night's culinary accomplishments. If I thought my perch & stir fry were sub-par, I probably wouldn't have so eagerly urged Lisa to sample the leftovers. She did suggest that a sweet flavor counterpoint might improve the stir fry (like a drizzle of duck sauce, somethin' like that) but she offered up the critique with such a heaping side of praise that I was not wounded. And I remained just as self congratulatory as ever (witness: the "joking" Iron Chef comment in the IM banter)



Well..cut to two hours later and I have rather been laid low by hubris. Something really opened up my gastrointestinal sluices, maaan. Was my food REALLY so combative to my innards or was that KARMIC DIARRHEA???


I have yet to come to any concrete conclusions. In the meantime, I implore you : steer clear of excessive pride and excessive sesame oil.



In less icky news, I have rewatched the Robert Loggia OJ commercial several times. Not that I was looking for anything, just outta love for it. Which is not to say that I didn't find anything...
WHAT is with that look Mom has on her face after La Loggia walks in the door?? It's like a sly "Ha-haa!" look or a coquettish "Heey there Mr Loggia". She seems totally unsurprised to have Robert Loggia stop by. What is THAT all about, huh? I would postulate that mom & dad had conspired to make this happen if it weren't for Dad's look of surprise. Could Mom have acted alone? Unlikely, considering that Dad delivers the pivotal "Well who would you believe?" line. Probably Mom & Dad conspired and Mom just can't fake a surprised face (whereas Dad does so effectively)
One of the wilder leaps I made on my jump-to-conclusions mat was that Robert Loggia is this boy's real father. Think about it... if this was indeed an arranged visit, then these follks have Loggia connections. There's also Mom's flirty grin to consider....in addition to Loggia's somewhat salacious wink. What most compellingly recommends this left-field theory is this kid's unconventional Robert Loggia appreciation. I'm no child psychologist, but seems to me that that is NOT normal 10 yr old kid (approx 10 years old, I should say) behavior. However, if this Loggia connection was somehow hardcoded into his DNA...well, that would explain a lot. Maybe Minute Maid was going to do some serial commercials around this soap opera-esque storyline (like the terrific Taster's Choice love saga! Remember them?**) But then the Loggia backed out of the serial plan because he was reluctant to play a promiscuous homewrecker type dude. I mean, I can't imagine that it would belittle him in my eyes (in my heart) whatsoever, but I do respect how one must protect one's image. I totally comprende.

**that was the only YouTube search result for "Taster's Choice couple" but holy schnikey is it thorough!! I never remembered that Giles-from-Buffy and generic-Brit-dame got that far. WOW! He like laid the "L" word on her at the end there--didja watch that far?? I suspect that vid was from a UK poster because seems to me only like 1/3 of that series aired in the States.
And I thought those ads were from the 90s, but my cursory 'net research sez late 80s which, I think must be true because...I must sheepishly confess... Giles-from-Buffy is young and quite dashing here. Am I right? Tell me I'm not alone here...

Drat!!

Can't get that email screen cap to expand! Grr. Well at least the chat screen caps worked properly.

It certainly ain't CRUCIAL that you read that email but that calendar page was rather fascinating. I mean, I don't just scan everyday's desk calendar page & email it about...

So let's see if I have any better luck just posting a pic of that scan, shall we??

Robert Loggia Day Banter

Lisa & I were feeling a bit chatty today...
Lemme forewarn you there's nothing in here regarding Robert Loggia. Read on (if you still give a damn) and I shall provide the necessary footnotes afterwards...

1. The whole "self important" person thang (at the start) came about because of this email I'd sent out .I'd scanned a particularly delightful page of my '08 desk calendar and sent the following email---



and I linked, in that email, to the definition of neologise & panjandrum. Links she musta followed because "self-important" is part of the whole panjandrum definition.(it's sorta synonymous with "grand poobah")

2. I was looking at a pic in Lisa's office and it was one of her friend's daughters. I'd met the older girl but she was telling me about the younger, namely about her being a marine biology student who's studying whales. And that moved me to urge Lisa to bring up ambergris to this young scholar (ambergris is a recently acquired fascination of mine... I yammered a bit about it on a post this past Nov)
Hence all the whale puke discussion...

3. I am wearing a mucho cheesy polo shirt today w/ our co. logo embroidered on it (I do so love freebies though..)
4. "Ham" is a code name for one of our field sales rep I once-upon-a-time crushed on

5. That last bit about "Iron Chef" is because I am in the habit of feeding Lisa samples of my lunch when I bring in something I cooked up meself. (this is 50% outta kindness and 50% for evaluation purposes... Me need test subjects!) Well, such was the case today. I brought in some baked perch and also this spicy garlicky veggie stir fry (mushrooms, carrots & sno-peas) I ad-libbed.

and YOU thought the holidays were over...

but ...JANUARY 3RD IS ROBERT LOGGIA DAY! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!

Mr Robert Loggia was born Jan 3 1930 in NYC (birth name: Salvatore Loggia)

La Loggia hasn't been in a hell of a lotta good movies (there's a few gems in his filmography, but not all that many considering he's been in the biz 50+ years) What's worse, he seems to have a penchant for guest starring on shitty TV series (Touched by an Angel? Dharma & Greg? Eewww!)
Naah, when I like Loggia it's when Loggia's playing Loggia. Like when he did a quick Family Guy cameo early last year. I searched for a clip of said cameo on YouTube, because YouTube practically has all 5 Family Guy seasons in their entirety. But wouldn't ya know it, that happens to be the one and only Family Guy moment omitted from YouTube. Such is my luck. But I did find a commercial worth sharing (an exceedingly apt way to commence the 77th annual Robert Loggia Day celebrations)



I totally remember that commercial. The poster cites it as being from '99, but I feel pretty certain that it was closer to the mid 90s. I clearly remember thinking at the time that it was THE absolute funniest commercial out there. The absurdity of it all...it's of course absurd that Robert Loggia is doing parental back-up house calls in arbitrary suburban homes across the U.S. , but I find I am more amused by this 10 yr old kid knowing who Robert Loggia is.

That commercial was the BESTEST. I also clearly recall that they didn't run it on the telly for all that long. I went through this withdrawl stage-- a coupla months of "I never see that Robert Loggia OJ commercial anymore." & "Whatever happened to the Robert Loggia OJ commercial? Have you seen it?? They never play it anymore..DAAAAMN IT!!"

Friggin' Great '08

I was rather glum on New Year's Eve Day. A month prior, I'd been stoked to secure that day off (this was when I had fabulous tenative plans...a group of people doing an overnight @ Mohegan Suns. But y'know, even if someone had had the initiative to transform these plans from the tenative to the actual , I woulda had to have backed out for financial reasons)

But when the day rolled around, I found I couldn't stop thinking "Son of a bitch, if I'd worked today I woulda got paid time & a half. Daaaaamn" To be historically accurate, I am not 100% certain that S.O.B. was my opening expletive of choice. It was most definitely some form of cuss. Though I am positive that I concluded the sentiment with "Daaaamn".

Granted, I don't know how functional I would have been Monday if I'd had to wake up at 7am for work. I didn't go to bed until 5:30am. Nothing salacious/exciting/ eventful to report there... I was just reading a terrif book and couldn't let myself sleep until the very end of it.

So as it was, I slept in until noon. I am a big fan of sleeping in..to some extent. I enjoy waking up around 10 am (10 am is nice) , am fine with waking at 11am, even...but waking up at any hour past noon can kinda put a damper on your day. Which is not to say I never do it. I can and I do. I have those Saturdays where, the night before, I rejoice in the fact that I get to shut off my alarm clock and wake up whenever the spirit rouses me. Problem being, my internal alarm clock is...well, I was going to say broken, but honestly I'm just not sure that I possess such a thing.

I woke up at exactly noon on Dec 31 and I think that predisposed me to be in a glum mood. But then also I felt that perennial existential despair that New Year's can bring.. aka: "it's the end of of another year and is THIS where I wanna be in life?" Also I was grappling with 4 possible itineraries and none of them especially promising...
New Year's Eve Option A: A party that I had already passed on. I had already decided not to go on account of my only knowing the hostess. Despite the fact that I'd already opted out of this bash, it was inexplicably hovering around in my consciousness as an option (still). I had neglected to RSVP either way, and that made me even more resolved to not attend. I know that sounds illogical, but putting myself in a hostesses' shoes (I'm thinking...some cutesy round toed pumps..maybe with a Tstrap) a guest who RSVPs promptly in the negative, who then finds their circumstances changed and then miraculously they CAN attend is far less of a nuissance than someone who never bothered to RSVP who just shows up at the fete-- in defiance of all that RSVPs stand for. You see what I mean? Of course the former type partygoer is not the ideal ..but they still get partial credit for their prompt attention to the RSVP entreaty. Still, my primary reason for not going is that my gut said that going to a party (especially on New Years') where I only know 1person would kinda suck. I mighta been wrong. It's not like I was determined to skip from the outset...I kinda oscillated over the issue for a while before settling on "No". I have these indecisive tendencies so when I (at-long-last) arrive at an answer on something I deliberately put a vice grip on that suckah. I guess that's really not indecisive, it's rather a slowness in deciding that I am prone to....on account of my oscillating tendencies. Yes, that it's it exactly. I oscillate A LOT. To the point of mental exhaustion. And then when I gives ya a "Yes" or a "No" on something (I rarely say "maybe". "Maybe" irks me) it's a FIRM one ...'cause I'm fucking tired of making up my mind!!

That's more than I meant to type under Option A (recent existential oscillations have really worsened my tangent affliction ) I will try to be more succint for B,C, &D....

New Year's Eve Option B: Go out to Salt Hill with my sister, bro-in-law, Greg's sis & her hubby. This option depressed me on account of the dreaded "5th wheel sensation" that was sure to ensue for yours truly. That whole 5th Wheel Funk is entirely in MY head. I should, in my comrades' defense, point out that nobody in that group does anything that actually incites that feeling...it's all me. And I know that sounds totally sad, and maybe a bit emotionally maladjusted (or psychologically maladjusted perhaps??) but I think it's total fucking par for the course for a singleton whose single status was an all-caps, bold fonted, bulletpoint in her year-end life synopsis/existential pity party. Moving right along..

New Year's Eve Option C: Help my parent's out with babysitting . They had all the grandkids for New Year's Eve, so that Laura could have a nice night-on-the-town. They're a bit old, methinks, for handling ALL the kids. Especially with Seth's insaaaane energy surplus thrown into the mix. They manage, all right. But I think it sure wears 'em down!

I was feeling that this was the "good daughter" thing to do. Also I knew there was sparkling grape juice to be had in this scenario. Ehh, well really, that's such an inferior substitute for real bubbly that that fact was no inducement for me.

New Year's Eve Option D: Fly solo for New Year's. This idea truly seemed the most appealing to me. I was not imagining staying home and watching TV for New Year's and DEFINITELY not staying home, going to bed early on New Year's Eve (I strongly feel that if one does the absolute bare minimum for New Year's, that oughtta entail watching the ol' ball fall..at the very least). What I was actually thinking ...was that I'd just drive aimlessly around and kinda make it a night of introspection. Listen to music. Drive. Meditate. Y'know--cruise.

Seriously, at one point in my deliberations, that is what I wanted to do more than anything.

Ultimately, I could not accept Option D -on account of how terminally LAME it sounded. And I knew all along how lame and exasperating Option C would be...so even though that's what I'd told myself all day that I was going to do...I couldn't go through with it. And Option A was a no-go for reasons previously outlined.


So I went to Salt Hill with the gang. I advised me to pull myself up by my proverbial bootstraps and just GO despite my reluctance/ trepidation/ partypooperism. Slap on some war paint (aka make up) and cowboy the f*ck up, y'know?? And the war paint application came out nicely, and my hair (I made it all ringletty) was maaaarvelous. Good hair, particularly, can do wonders for one's disposition.

It was a fine night. Not exceptionally great, but I'd not judge it "bad". My hair was delightful and I accompanied my beers with Salt Hill's stellar hot wings.

I probably was fine to drive myself home. I'm certainly no lightweight & I'd only had 3..but of course I like to err on the side of caution in such matters. So at quarter of 12, I tagged along when everyone piled into the truck (teetotaller Greg behind the wheel-- thusly landing me "on the side of caution" in this matter...like I said) to go to a party at one o' my sister's friends' casas.
We got there just before midnight and stayed for all of a half an hour. It was not a total waste, as I did score a glass of champagne. And New Years' without champagne is like Columbus Day without hot, whiskey-spiked Ovaltine or Flag Day without Capri Suns y'know?? Well I am game for champagne 365 days o' the year, but 'tis especially suited to New Year's Eve.

So I'd left my car @ the bar, and that wound up being an extreme lack of foresight on my part, meteorologically speaking. I slept on my sister's couch (which I have no problem with...I have no issue with sleeping on couches and it's a comfy couch besides. However I DO have a bit of a problem with transitioning from one day to the next without a fresh undergarments at my disposal) and then had to prevail upon Laura to schlep my arse back to Lebanon to get my car. That was around 1 ish we trekked back to Leb and there was a bugger of a blizzard goin' on at the time. Well it wasn't quite "the STORM OF THE CENTURY" but driving conditions were right icky, just the same. So I was extra beholden to her for the ride.

I didn't have any misadventures on my drive back to my abode, but it was a nerve wracking trip. I crrrrrept along at 25 or so. But when I got home, I knew it was a stay-put, snow day type of New Year's Day. You know-- movie marathons, quasi-hibernation. It was nice. Oh--except for my busting my Jane Eyre DVD. I was in a mood for romancy period drama (as I often am) and I grabbed a Jane Eyre (yes I have multiple versions... I'm a bit of a fanatic about that one) to pop in and --MUY STUPIDO-- I wrenched the disc up without pressing down on that center plastic hub thingie... DON'T DO THAT. It's bad news. The *(&^$%ing disc cracked all the way across diagonally. (That last word was for your sake, dear reader, that you might conjur a more vivid mental image. The direction of the foul, disc-obliterating crack matters little to me. I'd be equally miffed if said crack was a perfect, horizontally straight radius. ) So I popped on to Amazon today to add this version of JE (that I'd busted)to my wish list (it's SO frustrating --adding something to your Amazon wish list that you've already bought off Amazon. Grr!) and I figured, while I was there, I should also add on this more recent Masterpiece Theater version that I've yet to acquire.
Well in case you were wondering if I managed to get my fix on Tues, do not fret my pets. I sho' nuff did. I opted instead for Pride & Prejudice which is always wonderful albeit a tad lengthier. Of course,the version I refer to is the sublime 1995 miniseries with Jennifer Ehle & Colin Firth. OK, this was meant to be a New Year's Eve/ Day recap, but I must interject here a quick Colin Firth tangent..I cannot help it...I wandered onto his IMDB filmography and that lead to me pondering this flick The Last Legion which, it appears, had one of those shameful direct-to-DVD releases. I've not seen the film, but judging from the stills, his role seems like one that harkens back to hot-cinematic-warriors-of-yore, à la Clive Owen in King Arthur or Ger. Butler in 300 ( and to thems I say "Yes please!" and "OMG YYYYyyes pretty please homina homina homina"...and I'm not sure of in which order) and I don't know if that is quite becoming for our Colin, really. Don't get me wrong...I still think him most alluring. But seems he oughtta stick to roles -- contemporary or historical-- where he gets to wear some sort of suit. Sure, he wasn't quite formally suited up in his most glorious Darcy-emerging-from-the-Pemberly-pond moment. But that was a disshevelled suit look... which is a foxy variation of the formally suited-up look. In fact, disshevelled suit look is at its best when used as a counterpoint to formally suited-up brand hotness, don't you agree? Well, anyways, his soggy pond look from P&P was undeniably nice...but..I hate to be harsh but...that was over 10 years ago, hon.
I had this odd dream once about Colin Firth. I was dreaming that one of my parents was very sick and I was bawling my eyes out. And I was miserable and alone and I remember sort of watching the dream while dreaming it (as I do sometimes) and thinking "How sad that is. So terribly sad and I'm all alone and miserable" Well, I must have been pretty zeroed in on the "all alone " part of this and the Dream Casting Agent(s) in my head went right into action rectifying the situation. So I'm weeping and looking out a window, and in walks Colin Firth in full on attentive, consoling boyfriend mode. And in Dream-Sandra there was a little bit of conscious Sandra, because initially I think "What the hell's going on here? How do I know Colin Firth? " but then I'm like "Oh yeah of course" as if I'd somehow forgotten and also it becomes clear that this is not quite Colin Firth but sort of a Colin Firth of another dimension (some non-actor, but still doing quite well for himself version of Colin Firth...that is also a perfect boyfriend)

So that is my bizarro Colin Firth dream. Shit..I now kinda regret sharing it, but I'm not about to delete it after I spent 10minutes typing it out. I'm not sure I can find my way back on track from that tangent either...but it's just as well because there was very little recapping left to do anyhow. After I got back around 1;15pm it was basically movies, yummy turkey sammie & liter of Diet Coke and then beddy-bye. Not an excessively eventful New Year's Day but thoroughly satisfying. Ohh yeah, the other movie I watched was The Fountain. Hooo, doggy--don't even get me started on THAT one!! That's for sure another post for anotha day kids...)

Seems to me like Chet Fitch would have been a great guy to know....

a "must-see" site

I was fortunate enough today to stumble on to a really excellent site. It's Shorpy.com and it's a compendium of excellent, beautiful, sad, poignant, fun and compelling photography. Those adjectives really cover the whole gamut but I didn't mention their one unifying trait-- they're all OLD photos. Some from the early 1900s, quite a lot from the '30s. The newest ones I spied were from the mid 50s. I haven't perused the entire collection by any means but I looked at a lot of the images and all the ones I saw were hi-res scans, very high quality images. Usually I have no problem sharing "borrowed" images I'd snagged from somewhere out on the 'net, but I find I am reluctant to post here an example pic found on Shorpy. Just feels like I'd be stealing not just images but credit from somebody who's input TONS of hard work thereby putting out a truly top notch site.
So I won't post any pics. Instead I'll just urge you to go check it out post haste, my friends...

Celeb Splitsville

Just today read that Sean Penn & Robin Wright Penn are getting a divorce. SHOCKER. And I really don't mean that in a sarcastic way (like in the smartass way I used it in response to the recent Jamie Lynn Spears pregnancy news)

I am truly surprised they're splitting. Not only does 11 years together qualify as superhuman marital longevity (in Hollywood) but the Mrs even tacked his last name on to hers. Think about it...how infrequent is that in that biz?? These actresses get married and...I don't know what the rationale is behind it...but they NEVER change their names. Like take for example one of the most recently wed in H'wood...Katherine Heigl. If she changes her name (and I don't mean legally..I mean publicly, as in her name in her movie & TV billings) to Katherine Kelley I will eat my effing hat. And y'know, it's a quite large-ish stovepipe with all manner of tough-to-digest ornamentation on it (if that tells ya how emphatic I am). I don't know why they never do it...I don't think it's that all actresses find it outdatedly traditional. Seems more likely that with all their varied legal entanglements / contractual obligations it's just a colossal pain in the ass to do a name change. Or maybe said contractual obligations actually prohibit a public name change ? I suppose that's more plausible than Katherine Heigl saying to herself "Katherine Kelley...though it has the alliteration goin' on...it's just not CATCHY enough. Plus 'Heigl' is so rad and German-sounding" or "Gawwwsh ...if I change mah name to Katherine Kelley...NOBODY WILL KNOW WHO THAT IS!!" Now that would mean the vast majority of celebs are just exceedingly vapid & superficial. Ahh, well that's pretty plausible also, I guess...

Anyways Robin made the rare gesture of taking on her hubby's name. That sure seemed an auspicious sign to me. And 11 years & 2 offspring...also seemed to be favorable omens. Although ... I was puzzled & alarmed by Sean's mysterioso involvement in Eve's arrest drama this past April. I mean, Sean visiting her was really the only intriguing detail in that news item (c'mon.. it was a celeb DUI arrest!! There's like 5 of those a week! Were I a gamblin' gal, I'd start up an office pool, betting on which celebs would next be booked for DUI. Can't you just picture it? "I got $50. on Mickey Rooney and $25 on Nancy McKeon!!" But I digress..) And as soon as I read that bit I thought..."Hmmm...has Sean been gettin' a little somethin'-somethin' on the side?" Of course...I only thought this to myself because I got the feeling that if I were to actually say such a thing...somehow, as a result of my comment, Sean Penn would track me down wherever I was and punch me in the face. It's been quite a while since I've read of Mr Penn being in a physical altercation but still...he still seems very much that type, don't he?? I was irritated , when the E! Online article makes mention of that Eve connection, it sez :
"Penn raised eyebrows in April when he appeared at a Hollywood police station in the wear hours to comfort Eve following her DUI arrest. "
That's a copy-and-paste right there--EXACTLY how they wrote it. I'd like to know, Josh Grossberg, esteemed author of the "Penn, Wright Splitsville" article, what precisely are these "wear hours" you speak of?? I guess I am not familiar with this figure of speech. Also it's noted that this news item was posted around 7am 12/28 so there's been ample time to proofread this...provided you imbeciles know what proofreading is....

Grammatical righteous indignation aside, it's good (thorough reporting) that they mentioned that...as soon as I heard tell of this divorce I thought back to that Eve news item from earlier in the year and recalled how it--as Josh wrote--raised my eyebrow. Or raised both my eyebrowS, I mean. Well, see, I had wanted to raise just one of 'em ...specifically my left (in that cool manner popularized by Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. Ohhhh how I adore thee, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson...) but I've yet to master the single brow raise, damn it.

Even with the whole "Eve mystery" lurking in the periphery of this tale, I am still quite surprised by the split. In fact, I have not been this shaken by the dissolution of a star-marriage since the nasty '93 bust-up of Burt & Loni.

However, in my perfunctory research on Mr Penn, I picked up some interesting biographical trivia (the thrill of finding a decent trivia-nugget dulls my shock somewhat ) It was pretty widely known that Sean had a famous younger brother (Chris Penn-- awesome as "Nice Guy"Eddie in Reservoir Dogs/ died tragically in Jan 2006) but his older bro is famous too. Uhh, somewhat famous, I should say. Remember the late 80s one hit wonder "No Myth"?? Well the singer who gave us that li'l gem is Michael Penn--older brother of the aforementioned Sean & Chris. Also Michael Penn happens to be married to Aimee Mann (of "'Til Tuesday" fame). I guess that's less surprising, as it seems like burnt-out 80s popsters have a penchant for pairing off and getting hitched (a la Wham's Andrew Ridgely & one o' the chicks from Bananarama)

Not that you asked me, but I quite prefer Mann's big hit (Voices Carry) over her hubby's. It's not that I'm exceedingly keen on "Voices Carry" but "No Myth" has always mildly irked me. After reading the lyrics, I can see how the dude has a way with words that makes me want to like the song but the fact remains that I just don't. I know if the song were to come on the radio right now (well, I'm not presently listening to the radio, but let's pretend I am) it would take all of a half nanosecond for my hand to shoot out & change the station (or at least turn the volume low). I'm pretty sure it has something to do with that oft repeated chorus and the personal connotations it evokes in me.

"What if I were Romeo in black jeans

What if I were Heathcliff, it's no myth

Maybe she's just looking for

someone to dance with"

Sartorially speaking, it was sooo not a great idea to reiterate one's penchant for black jeans. So there you have it...I hear that line and my mind's eye flashes on a dude in black jeans and right at the outset of the chorus my reflex is..."ick" Although to be fair, it coulda been much worse. It was the 80s, Penn conceivably coulda mentioned ACID WASHED JEANS. That would be beyond "mildly irritating"(as I currently rate the song) and earn the tune the "downright vile" classification.

Now our next line is about Heathcliff. For the record, I AM literate enough to know that that's a Wuthering Heights reference. And y'all know how I appreciate a well-read fellah. Just the same...I can't help it...I think of the CAT Heathcliff. You know the one: "Heathcliff, Heathcliff, no one should terrify their neighborhood..."

The last two lines of the chorus are innocuous enough but not powerful enough to purge from my noggin thoughts of some mysterious ill-dressed dude (possibly making bad jeans worse by wearing a poofy Shakespearian blouse) and that skid row Garfield knock-off.