the cheese stands alone

Devil's Workshop

I haven't been idle this weekend, not merely stuffing my face with sidewalk turkey ham and other goodies. Nope, I've been Doing Computer Stuff.

I've had this annoying little problem for a couple of weeks, wherein my start page resets itself to some stupid search engine that seems to specialize in porn. In addition, I mysteriously acquired about a dozen links to porn sites. I blamed the Porn Fairy. I blamed shoddy Microsoftian patches. I even blamed the GM1.
In protest of this, he ate all my share of the chocolate silk pie.
So I Googled around and discovered quite a few other people had this problem, that it was some kind of trojan, not a bit ribbed for my pleasure. One bulletin board, (to whom I would give tons of credit here if I could remember the name, which I can't) had very explicit instructions of how to get rid of it.
I printed them out, followed them to the letter, and violin! No more nasty little Porn Fairy!
Then I did what some of you suggested way back when... I got Mozilla and relegated IE to the back burner.
It's got a bit more learning curve, does Mozilla, to one such as I who got her training wheels strictly on Internet Explorer. I can only guess that if I ever go to a Mac, I'll likely have a stroke. The email itself on Mozilla made me go out and buy stamps, just in case.

I have no idea where the trojan came from. I suspect it could have crept in past a myriad firewalls, security systems, and scans.

So that, in case you wondered, is what I've been doing.
Oh, and redecorating the template a tad.

Update: this has to be the most banal post I've ever written.
I blame the sidewalk turkey.

Time To Jingle

I know it's probably too early, but if the 'Marts can do it, so can I.
So how do you like my Christmas decor?

Bobo's Choice #16

Sixteen damn grabbers.

Friday Five

Screw you, Adbusters. I shop until I drop.

1. Do you like to shop? Why or why not?
I love to shop. I window shop, I bargain shop, I catalog shop, I online shop.
I'm broke, but I enjoy myself.

2. What was the last thing you purchased?
Some gorgeous plaid hi-top Converse sneakers.

3. Do you prefer shopping online or at an actual store? Why?
I'd much rather be at a real store, because shopping is a full-sensory experience.

4. Did you get an allowance as a child? How much was it?
No, but I got reward cash for good report cards.

5. What was the last thing you regret purchasing?
I regret the $350 vet bill I paid on an adopted guinea pig who went and died the next week. Not even big enough for a nice hat, either.

If I Were A Freak, I'd Be...

Which Michael Jackson are you?

(found at The Presurfer, who is very alert for sharks.)

Leftovers

How To Cook A Turkey
1) Go buy a turkey.
2) Take a drink of scotch whisky (Glenmorangie) or Jack Daniels.
3) Put turkey in the oven.
4) Take another 2 drinks of whiskey.
5) Set the degree at 375 ovens
6) Take 3 more whiskeys of drink.
7) Turn oven the on.
8) Take 4 whisks of drinky.
9) Turk the bastey.
10) Whiskey another bottle of get.
11) Stick a turkey in the thermometer
12) Glass yourself a pour of whiskey.
13) Bake the whiskey for 4 hours.
14) Take the oven out of the turkey.
15) Take the oven out of the turkey.
16) Floor the turkey up off of the pick.
17) Turk the carvey.
18) Get yourself another scottle of botch.
19) Tet the sable and pour yourself a glass of turkey.
20) Bless the saying, pass and eat out.

(an oldie from my dad, who thinks giblets are a treat.)

Incomplete Delivery

There is, right now as we speak, a turkey lying on the sidewalk in front of my house.
A naked, plucked, ready-to-roast-as-soon-as-you-clean-the-dirt-off-it turkey.
Just lying there.
Several people have walked past, paused, poked at it, and walked on.
More than a few have ignored it entirely.
No one has tried to pick it up or move it.
As if a raw turkey in the middle of the sidewalk were a natural occurrence.
Of course, this is my first Thanksgiving in this neighborhood... it could very well be.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.

Yarn

Anna's hooked.

I'm Hot

Susie decided I wasn't getting laughed at enough, so she submitted me for this week's Bonfire of the Vanities.

And if I don't perk this post up, she might be tempted to submit this one next week.

Not Promiscuous, Just Friendly

It's not that big, is it? C'mon, you can say. I mean, I work on it, I really do. I examine it from every angle. I even trim things up once in a while.
Yet sometimes I get complaints. "Ooooh, it's too much. I can't do all that at one time."
Now, now, hush, there's a dear. Shouldn't I be the one to say when it's too much?
And I don't use those devices, either. Not me, I'm strictly an old-fashioned, hands-on kind of girl. It just works better for me, that way.
Most of the time, everyone goes away happy.

Yes, I have a big blogroll.

It's not as large as some people's. You know the ones I'm talking about. The ones who have that newfangled Blogrolling device, who just wham, bam, thank you ma'am slap every blog they visit onto.
Not me, baby, I'm a include-one-by-one, bit-by-bit, overly-hyphenated kind of Cheese.

I have a sort of in-house system a blog has to pass through to get to my happy place.
First, I discover a new blog, either on someone else's blogroll or from a comment left on The Cheese. So I take a peek. If it looks intriguing, I put in it my bookmarks in a file called Examine Later.
Next, I Examine it Later. Up close. Personal. In depth.
If it pleases, I put it in another bookmarks file called "Not Blogrolled." This means I want to poke around a little more, see what comes of it.
After a bit of poking about, if it continues to be pleasant, I put it on The Cheese's blogroll. Play with it some, move it around to see where it fits best.
Of course, if I find someone has blogrolled me, then I immediately shove that baby right in
to the ReciproCheese list.
You rub me the right way, I'll surely rub you.

So if you have anything good you want to show me, any little warm spot or hot topic, let me know.
Like I said, everyone gets a happy ending if I have anything to say about it.

The GM1 Speaks Up

After seeing this ubiquitous photo of Michael Jackson, the GM1 said:

"He looks like Kabuki Barbie on crack."

He's got a way with words, my GM1.

Bubbles Wanted

We now pause in our regular Cheesery to bring you a message from Madfish Willie:

"Madfish Willie's is starting a "send me your posts" LinkLoveFest!

Tales From The Champagne Room!
[Remember: There is no sex in The Champagne Room!]

To be linked in The Champagne Room post just e-mail the link(s) to your post(s) by Saturday 12:00 noon and I'll include you in the weekly LinkLoveFest on Sunday.

Thanks to everyone who have sent me links in the past and I'll be looking forward to more of your Tales From The Champagne Room!"

Monday Memory

In a vague attempt to increase my vampish sexual powers amuse myself, I've decided to try and start a meme. I've never really understood where memes come from... do they spring up mysteriously in the night? Does the Meme Fairy bring them to good little blogboys and bloggirls? Nobody really knows.
So I guess I can make the attempt and see what happens.

My meme will be called LeeAnn's Wonderfulest Idea Ever Monday Memory. Every Monday I'll ask a question and ask people to search their memories and answer it, either on their own page and link back to the question, or answer it in the comments.
If it works, peachy. If not... okay, there's another 10 minutes of my life I'll never get back.

So, today's Monday Memory question is: "What Thanksgiving dinner is your family still talking about?"

Mine is this:

Every family has the relative whose claim to familial fame is getting completely shitfaced at all holiday gatherings. Great-uncle Rudy was ours.
Rudy was a retired professor of zoology, and he fancied himself the family historian as well. Whatever the occasion, Uncle Rudy would show up half in the bag and proceed to pour himself into the other half during the course of the evening.
One Thanksgiving, Uncle Rudy was holding forth during the meal on the traditional roles of women as pertains to cooking, serving dinner, and cleaning up. (It came up when Mom asked who wanted to help her dig table out from under the dinner debris.) Rudy went on and on about Victorian customs, and how maids were always women, and generally set himself up to be mugged on the way to his car by all the family females.
And then Uncle Rudy's prodigious burp met with Uncle Rudy's active gag reflex, and Uncle Rudy upchucked right into his plate.
Everyone screamed and ran.

We refer to it as The Thanksgiving Uncle Rudy Cleared The Table All By Himself In Under Three Seconds.

Artistic Interruption

The GM1 says he's not going to let me watch any more football unless I quit repeating the little rhyme I made up during halftime:

"Dougie Flutie
He's a cutie
And when he goes pootie
He goes pfft pfft pfft."

Can't really blame him, I'm starting to annoy myself. And yet I feel compelled to continue.

Audience Participation

This is how I watch football sometimes: I pretend I'm the coach.
I put on headphones and pace in front of the television, waving my arms and yelling pertinent directions like "Run, Forrest, run!"

At half time I do commentary on what the half-time commentarians are wearing.

Then I go back to pacing, yelling, and waving.
Sometimes we win, because of my exquisite leadership.
And Howie Long got a raise just because I told him not to ever wear that jacket again.

You can't beat my fantasy life with a stick.

I Can't Title This Early

Is there anyone else sitting in their pajamas, staring vacantly at the monitor waiting for their brain to get up out of bed and follow along with body, waiting for the Coffee Fairy to show up?

Anomaly

My friend's son, JohnThomas, as of yesterday, has sold $940 worth of popcorn in a recent Boy Scout fundraising.
He did this entirely on his own, with no help from Mom and Dad. No taking the order sheets to work, no bugging their friends. Just good old one-on-one, Boy Scout selling.
Take THAT, Those Who Guilt-Sell Coworkers And Officemates!

Friday Five

Listy time on the Friday Five.....

1. List five things you'd like to accomplish by the end of the year.
It doesn't give me much time, does it? My accomplishments usually involve a bigger timeframe. Lessee...
Find a good yoga class.
Lose 20 pounds.
Hone my shooting skills.
Survive "Blog Survivor"
Get a job.

2. List five people you've lost contact with that you'd like to hear from again.
Anyone I wanted to stay in contact with, I did. If I'm not in contact with them, they're on this list.

3. List five things you'd like to learn how to do.
Play the piano.
Dance.
Write.
Breathe through my ears.
Speak Italian.

4. List five things you'd do if you won the lottery (no limit).
Go on cruise after cruise after cruise.
Piles of plastic surgery.
Buy my mom a convertible Mercedes like she's always wanted.
Pay all my bills.
Buy a house with extensive acreage all around it, 10 miles from the nearest neighbor.

5. List five things you do that help you relax.
Drink.
Drink.
Drink.
Watch my "Walking With Dinosaurs" DVD.
Drink.

Local Loons

As I've said before, my neighborhood is Bellevue West.

Part the First
This morning, woken by the sounds of chirping birdies shouts of "fuck", I found out that Kappa Kappa Hoochie is moving out. I stepped outside for a peek and learned from the (relatively) new people across the hall that they'd been booted out. It turns out living above them is much worse than living across and up from them. The KKH policy is all night long loud music, combined with live-action recreation of whatever video game they're involved in. Naturally, New Neighbor called the management office. Management scolded KKH. KKH, being the mature, responsible adults they aren't, promptly began a campaign of harassment on New Neighbor, complete with middle of the night ceiling banging, screams of "fuck you, n***er" when they'd leave the house, and garbage thrown up onto NN's balcony.
Imagine their surprise when they were evicted.
So they're out there, loading up the bits and pieces, having a very loud conversation about how the "tightass bitches" around here ruined all their fun.
The most pathetic thing about the whole deal is the one girl who is actually ON the lease, in fact supposed to be the only person living there, is in the Navy. Her command received a copy of the notice of eviction, with complete list of complaints and problems, and now she's going to mast (a sort of in-house court) about it.

Part the Second
Remember Dainbramage, the c**t loon downstairs who is my sworn enemy? She came upstairs to my door last night, bold as you please.
She had the strangest request ever.... she wanted to borrow the sliding screen door to my balcony. Apparently she'd walked through hers (?) and wanted to borrow mine until hers could be repaired.

D: Uh... I live downstairs? And I want to ask... can I borrow your screen door?
Me: What? Borrow what? My screen door?
D: Uh... yeah, I kinda broke mine? And I want to have the patio door open? For fresh air and all, you know?
Me: So open it. Is it broken too?
D: No, it's not, uh... broke? But I have a kid? And she might get out if I don't got a door, you know? And you don't got a kid, right? So you don't need a screen door.
Me: *flabbergasted silence*
D: So can you bring me down the door?
Me: No.
D: Can your husband bring me the door?
Me: No.
D: Can I call the maintenance guy to come bring me the door?
Me: Look, you aren't getting my door.
D: Whadda you mean?
Me: It's my door. You had a door. You broke it. Get it fixed and then you'll have a screen door.
D: That's not faaaaaiiiiiirrrrrrr! I neeeeeeeed a screen door!
Me: Okay, we're done here.
*slam*

When I went out to my car this morning, I noticed she's temporarily solved her problem by piling furniture in front of the open patio door (she's on the first floor). And standing at the railing of her patio, waving at everyone, was her kid... who'd climbed over the furniture to escape.

I live at the shallow end of the gene pool.

I'd Like To Thank The Little People

The GM1 sent me flowers this morning, because I am such a wonderful wife.
Did I make a special steak dinner? No.
Did I superclean the house? No.
Did I do that neat trick that requires being double-jointed? Uh, not this time.

I taped the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show for him last night
since he was on duty, and brought it over to the ship
so he could watch it later.

Surviving Survivor

Helen won immunity, just as we planned and rightfully so.
Next is The Vote.

Let the conniving backstabbing mudslinging campaigning begin!

Dealing With Snakes

The Differential Theory of US Armed Forces (Snake Model) upon encountering
a snake in the Area of Operations (AO)

1. Infantry: Snake smells them, leaves area.
2. Airborne: Lands on and kills the snake.
3. Armor: Runs over snake, laughs, and looks for more snakes.
4. Aviation: Has Global Positioning Sattelite coordinates to snake.
Can't find snake. Returns to base for refuel, crew rest and manicure.
5. Ranger: Plays with snake, then eats it.
6. Field Artillery: Kills snake with massive Time On Target barrage with
three Forward Artillery Brigades in support. Kills several hundred
civilians as unavoidable collateral damage. Mission is considered a success and all
participants (i.e., cooks, mechanics and clerks) are awarded Silver Stars.
7. Special Forces: Makes contact with snake, ignores all State Department
directives and Theater Commander Rules of Engagement by building rapport
with snake and winning its heart and mind. Trains it to kill other snakes.
Files enormous travel settlement upon return.
8. Combat Engineer: Studies snake. Prepares in-depth doctrinal thesis in
obscure 5 series Field Manual about how to defeat snake using
countermobility assets. Complains that maneuver forces don't understand how to properly
conduct doctrinal counter-snake ops.
9. Navy SEAL: Expends all ammunition and calls for naval gunfire support
in failed attempt to kill snake. Snake bites SEAL and retreats to safety.
Hollywood makes fantasy film in which SEALS kill Muslim extremist snakes.
10. Navy: Fires off 50 cruise missiles from various types of ships, kills
snake and makes presentation to Senate Appropriations Committee on how
Naval forces are the most cost-effective means of anti-snake force projection.
11. Marine: Kills snake by accident while looking for souvenirs. Local
civilians demand removal of all US forces from Area of Operations.
12. Marine Recon: Follows snake, gets lost.
13. Combat Controllers: Guides snake elsewhere.
14. Para-Rescue Jumper: Wounds snake in initial encounter, then works
feverishly to save snake's life.
15. Supply: (NOTICE: Your anti-snake equipment is on backorder.)
16. Transport pilot: Receives call for anti-snake equipment, and delivers
two weeks after due date.
17. F-15 pilot: Mis-identifies snake as enemy Mil-24 Hind helicopter and
engages with missiles. Crew chief paints snake kill on aircraft.
18. F-16 pilot: Finds snake, drops two CBU-87 cluster bombs, and misses
snake target, but get direct hit on Embassy 100 KM East of snake due to
weather (Too Hot also Too Cold, Was Clear but too overcast, Too dry with
Rain, Unlimited ceiling with low cloud cover etc.) Claims that purchasing
multi-million dollar, high-tech snake-killing device will enable it in the
future to kill all snakes and achieve a revolution in military affairs.
19. AH-64 Apache pilot: Unable to locate snake, snakes don't show well on
infra-red. Infrared only operable in desert AO's without power lines or
SAM's.
20. UH-60 Blackhawk pilot: Finds snake on fourth pass after snake builds
bonfire, pops smoke, lays out VS 17 to mark Landing Zone. Rotor wash
blows snake into fire.
21. B-52 pilot: Pulls ARCLIGHT mission on snake, kills snake and every
other living thing within two miles of target.
22. Missile crew: Lays in target coordinates to snake in 20 seconds, but
can't receive authorization from National Command Authority to use nuclear
weapons.
23. Intelligence officer: Snake? What snake? Only four of 35 indicators
of snake activity are currently active. We assess the potential for snake
activity as LOW.
24. Judge Advocate General (JAG): Snake declines to bite, citing grounds
of professional courtesy.

Truth In Advertising

congratulations. you are the "you smell like
butt" bunny. you're brutally honest and
always say what's on your mind.
which happy bunny are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
(found over at Stranger in a Strange Land, who is deemed "cute but psycho.")

I have quite a few Happy Bunny shirts, including this one, which has always been my favorite. So once again, quizzy time is fulfilling.

Special Little Me

Jay Solo tells me I was visitor #50,000 to his blog today! YAY me!

Oh, and yay Jay too, for even HAVING 50,000 visitors. Go tell him how cool that is, and stick around and read all you can. Jay is the originator of the Carnival of Capitalists, an extensive round-up of posts devoted to economic and financial stuff.

And don't forget to tell me how darn wonderful I am for being in the right place at the right time.

Somebody's Having Way Better Flashbacks Than I Am

Today's disturbingly fascinating flash animation is "Tomahawk".
Watch it with the sound off... it's even creepier.

It's The Same Size As A Peanut

Blogging has been light lately because I have recently been told I need to drink more water. So I've gradually worked up to drinking about a gallon a day.

The keyboard cord does not stretch far enough to reach the bathroom.

By Any Other Name

Diana Goodman has compiled all the most bizarre baby name suggestions from several baby-naming bulletin boards for quite a while. Then she made a wonderful website about it so we can call our moms and thank them for our name.

Unless your mom is this lady:
"What is a nature realated name for a boy? I am pregnant with a boy and I already have four girls. My girls are Summer Skies, Autumn Night, April Shower, and Spring Flower. Please help I am due in November.
Star Light"

This is exactly the kind of thing that winds up with the kid up in the belltower with a high powered rifle. Or in some cult, serving the kool-aid.

**Update: Ralph Wiggum over at It Tastes Like, Burning had an earlier post about loonies who name for the big bucks..

with unceasing hindsighted thanks to my mother, who almost named me Samantha Josephine so she could call me Sammy Jo.

Dance Dance Dance

I surely wish I'd been drunk when I saw this little animation. No one needs to see a groovy hippo while straight.... at least not alone.
That's why I'm sharing him with you.

I think he's dancing to celebrate the departure of Pylorns from our bloggy Survivor. By a vote of 5, we put his rump on a raft and pushed him out to sea.

found originally by Zen Wanderer at My Monkey Mind, who says he's an Oregonian nerd.

Bobo's Choice #9

Odd little critters by Sergio Ruzzier.

The GM1 Speaks

Helen's post about the dangers of speaking without thinking forced this memory up from the sludge....

Upon completing his placement exams for community college, taken in a room full of high school girls, when I picked him up: "Gee, I'd forgotten how pretty young women are."

Upon being thrown out of the car three seconds later: "Ow ow ow."

Stickier The Better

Ruminations- not your everyday source of bumperstickerable thoughts.

"Why do birds suddenly appear, every
time you are near? I mean, seriously,
can't you do something about it?
That bird thing really creeps me out."
(Scott MacDonald)

Eric over at Straight White Guy has some conservative ones, if the randomizer doesn't find you just the thing for the Family Truckster.

I Wonder If Radio Shack Carries These?

The remote control for the man who is too lazy to even take care of this apparently has everything but wants more.

"Slightest Touch".

"When properly adjusted, the Slightest Touch® never makes the mistake of applying "too much, too soon, too hard, or too fast!"

(sent to me by Bob "Never Too Soon" Grubb)

Okay, in view of what I said earlier about loving television, I have to risk the wrath of the airwaves and say that this little flash movie is better than most anything on the tube on Tuesdays, now that "Joe Schmo" is over.
found originally on the Presurfer, to whom I owe a cookie.

Cow Economics

Sometimes my dad sends me stuff that was originally scratched onto cave walls, and sometimes he sends me funny stuff.
This is both, but updated for maximum relevance.
(His words, not mine. What I know less about relevance than a cow.)

DEMOCRAT
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
You feel guilty for being successful.
Barbara Streisand sings for you.

REPUBLICAN
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
So?

SOCIALIST
You have two cows.
The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor.
You form a cooperative to tell him how to manage his cow

COMMUNIST
You have two cows.
The government seizes both and provides you with milk.
You wait in line for hours to get it.
It is expensive and sour.

CAPITALISM, AMERICAN STYLE
You have two cows.
You sell one, buy a bull, and build a herd of cows.

DEMOCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE
You have two cows.
The government taxes you to the point you have to
sell both to support a man in a foreign country
who has only one cow, which was a gift from your
government.

BUREAUCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE
You have two cows.
The government takes them both, shoots one,
milks the other, pays you for the milk, and then
pours the milk down the drain.

AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one, lease it back to yourself and do an IPO on the 2nd one.
You force the two cows to produce the milk of four cows.
You are surprised when one cow drops dead.
You spin an announcement to the analysts stating
you have down sized and are reducing expenses.
Your stock goes up.

FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want three cows.
You go to lunch and drink wine.
Life is good.

JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one tenth the size
of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk.
They learn to travel on unbelievably crowded trains.
Most are at the top of their class at cow school.

GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You engineer them so they are all blond, drink lots of beer,
give excellent quality milk, and run a hundred miles an hour.
Unfortunately they also demand 13 weeks of vacation per year.

ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows but you don't know where they are.
While ambling around, you see a beautiful woman.
You break for lunch.
Life is good.

RUSSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You have some vodka.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You have some more vodka.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
The Mafia shows up and takes over however
many cows you really have.

TALIBAN CORPORATION
You have all the cows in Afghanistan, which are two.
You don't milk them because you cannot touch any
creature's private parts.
Then you kill them and claim a US bomb blew them
up while they were in the hospital.

IRAQI CORPORATION
You have two cows.
They go into hiding.
They send radio tapes of their mooing.

POLISH CORPORATION
You have two bulls.
Employees are regularly maimed and
killed attempting to milk them.

FLORIDA CORPORATION
You have a black cow and a brown cow.
Everyone votes for the best looking one.
Some of the people who like the brown one best,
vote for the black one.
Some people vote for both.
Some people vote for neither.
Some people can't figure out how to vote at all.
Finally, a bunch of guys from out-of-state tell you which is the best
looking cow.

CALIFORNIAN
You have a cow and a bull.
The bull is depressed.
It has spent its life living a lie.
It goes away for two weeks.
It comes back after a taxpayer-paid sex-change operation.
You now have two cows.
One makes milk; the other doesn't.
You try to sell the trans gender cow.
Its lawyer sues you for discrimination.
You lose in court.
You sell the milk-generating cow to pay the damages.
You now have one rich, trans gender, non-milk-producing cow.
You change your business to beef. PETA pickets your farm.
Jesse Jackson makes a speech in your driveway.
Cruz Bustamante calls for higher farm taxes to help "working cows".
Hillary Clinton calls for the nationalization of 1/7 of your farm "for the
children".
Gray Davis signs a law giving your farm to Mexico.
The L.A. Times quotes five anonymous cows claiming you groped their teats.
You declare bankruptcy and shut down all operations.
The cow starves to death.
The L.A. Times' analysis shows your business failure is Bush's fault.

Sing Song

Hi, my name is LeeAnn, and I'm a TVholic.

No, I take that back. I mean, I am a TVholic, but to say it that way sounds like I regret it. Like I want a cure. No way, baby.
I loves da box.

Yes, I am aware of how that sounds but I'm not editing stuff today. I'm on day two of a caffeine-free diet and I might be ripping out jugulars before noon, so just ease back on the judgement joystick, okay, ace?

Where was I?

Oh yeah.
I watch TV most of my waking hours, even if it is the on-in-the-background,-glance-at-it-while-walking-by kind of watching. Most of the time in the evenings, it's got my full and undivided attention.
People have died getting in between me and "Survivor" or "Firefly". Mini-riots have broken out over interrupted broadcasting. Behind my TV is a pile of shoes and other small objects, mis-flung in rage at something that happened onscreen.

My idea of heaven is a big hotel room, a fluffy bed with piles of pillows, and a big screen with the remote never more than 6 inches away. And unlimited martinis, Coronas, and cheese popcorn.

Roughing it is a room without room service. Don't get me started on how much I hate being lectured by all you fresh air freaks. "Get outside. Enjoy nature! Commune with the wildlife."
I went outside once. A bird crapped on my head and I stepped in poop.
"Buffy the Vampire Slayer" never makes me step in poop.

I have a song stuck in my head. It's from the latest show on my plate, "Two and a Half Men." Jon Cryer, who recovered from being forever labelled "Ducky" in "Pretty in Pink" and Charlie Sheen, who gave up a life of eternal playboy bachelorhood to settle down with plain old Denise Richards.
Excellent show, you should watch it sometime. But that's not why I'm here.

The theme song. The theme song is traditionally the thing that sets the whole tone for a show. It warns the audience as to what emotions will be toyed with, what heart-dalliances they'll be going through. It's a aural atmospherian.

The theme song to "Two and a Half Men" goes like this:
"Men men men men manly men men men.... MEN!"

I haven't stopped singing it since I first heard it.
The GM1 is ready to put my head on a spike.

Confidence

We were having a nice, quiet afternoon, the GM1 and I, watching the History Channel. I decided to watch and be productive, so I was pedicuring my toes.
Engrossed in watching the Royal Navy kiss some Spanish Armada ass, I reached up from my seat on the floor to my water bottle, uncapped it and slugged back a drink.
It wasn't my water bottle. It was the nail polish remover.

I leaped up, sputtering and gagging, and ran for the bathroom, where I rinsed and spit and rinsed and spit for over fifteen minutes. Finally, when I was reasonably sure I wasn't going to implode or keel over, and when most of the nastiest taste I've ever experienced was out of my mouth, I stormed back into the living room.

"Didn't you see what I just did?" I shrieked at the GM1, who was lounging calmly in his chair. "I drank the polish remover! I almost diiiiiiiiiiied!"

"I wasn't worried" he said. "Because I know for a fact

you don't swallow."

funeral arrangements are incomplete.

If An Astrologer Falls In The Woods....

As far as astrology goes, I'll go out on a limb here and say I can take it or leaf it. But don't take me too seriously, my bark is worse than my bite. I tend to make an ash out of myself sometimes, when I'm not being a real birch.

Stop me. Please.

Find your birthday and then find your tree...
(supposed to be in line with Celtic astrology.)
Dec 23 to Jan 01 - Apple Tree
Jan 01 to Jan 11 - Fir Tree
Jan 12 to Jan 24 - Elm Tree
Jan 25 to Feb 03 - Cypress Tree
Feb 04 to Feb 08 - Poplar Tree
Feb 09 to Feb 18 - Cedar Tree
Feb 19 to Feb 28 - Pine Tree
Mar 01 to Mar 10 - Weeping Willow Tree
Mar 11 to Mar 20 - Lime Tree
Mar 21 - Oak Tree
Mar 22 to Mar 31 - Hazelnut Tree
Apr 01 to Apr 10 - Rowan Tree
Apr 11 to Apr 20 - Maple Tree
Apr 21 to Apr 30 - Walnut Tree
May 01 to May 14 - Poplar Tree
May 15 to May 24 - Chestnut Tree
May 25 to Jun 03 - Ash Tree
Jun 04 to Jun 13 - Hornbeam Tree
Jun 14 to Jun 23 - Fig Tree
Jun 24 - Birch Tree
Jun 25 to Jul 04 - Apple Tree
Jul 05 to Jul 14 - Fir Tree
Jul 15 to Jul 25 - Elm Tree
Jul 26 to Aug 04 - Cypress Tree
Aug 05 to Aug 13 - Poplar Tree
Aug 14 to Aug 23 - Cedar Tree
Aug 24 to Sep 02 - Pine Tree
Sep 03 to Sep 12 - Weeping Willow Tree
Sep 13 to Sep 22 - Lime Tree
Sep 23 - Olive Tree
Sep 24 to Oct 03 - Hazelnut Tree
Oct 04 to Oct 13 - Rowan Tree
Oct 14 to Oct 23 - Maple Tree
Oct 24 to Nov 11 - Walnut Tree
Nov 12 to Nov 21 - Chestnut Tree
Nov 22 to Dec 01 - Ash Tree
Dec 02 to Dec 11 - Hornbeam Tree
Dec 12 to Dec 21 - Fig Tree
Dec 22 - Beech Tree

APPLE TREE (the Love) - of slight build, lots of charm, appeal, and
attraction, pleasant aura, flirtatious, adventurous, sensitive, always in
love, wants to love and be loved, faithful and tender partner, very generous,
scientific talents, lives for today, a carefree philosopher with imagination.

ASH TREE (the Ambition) - uncommonly attractive, vivacious,
impulsive,demanding, does not care for criticism, ambitious, intelligent,
talented, likes to play with fate, can be egotistic, very reliable and
trustworthy, faithful and prudent lover, sometimes brains rule over the
heart, but takes partnership very seriously.

BEECH TREE (the Creative) - has good taste, concerned about its looks,
materialistic, good organization of life and career, economical, good
leader, takes no unnecessary risks, reasonable, splendid lifetime companion,
keen on keeping fit (diets, sports, etc.)

BIRCH TREE (the inspiration) - vivacious, attractive, elegant, friendly,
unpretentious, modest, does not like anything in excess, abhors the vulgar,
loves life in nature and in calm, not very passionate, full of imagination,
little ambition, creates a calm and content atmosphere.

CEDAR TREE (the Confidence) - of rare beauty, knows how to adapt, ikes
luxury, of good health, not in the least shy, tends to look down on others,
self-confident, determined, impatient, likes to impress others, many talents,
industrious, healthy optimism, waiting for the one true love,able to make
quick decisions.

CHESTNUT TREE (the Honesty) - of unusual beauty, does not want to impress,
well-developed sense of justice, vivacious, interested, a born diplomat,but
irritates easily and sensitive in company, often due to a lack of self
confidence, acts sometimes superior, feels not understood loves only once,
has difficulties in finding a partner.

CYPRESS TREE (the Faithfulness) - strong, muscular, adaptable, takes what
life has to give, content, optimistic, craves money and acknowledgment,
hates loneliness, passionate lover which cannot be satisfied, faithful,
quick-tempered, unruly, pedantic, and careless.

ELM TREE (the Noble-mindedness) - pleasant shape, tasteful clothes, modest
demands, tends not to forgive mistakes, cheerful, likes to lead but not to
obey, honest and faithful partner, likes making decisions for others,
noble-minded, generous, good sense of humor, practical.

FIG TREE (the Sensibility) - very strong, a bit self-willed, independent,
does not allow contradiction or arguments, loves life, its family,children
and animals, a bit of a social butterfly, good sense of humor, likes idleness
and laziness, of practical talent and intelligence.

FIR TREE (the Mysterious) - extraordinary taste, dignity, sophisticated,
loves anything beautiful, moody, stubborn, tends to egoism but cares for
those close to them, rather modest, very ambitious, talented, industrious,
uncontented lover, many friends, many foes, very reliable.

HAZELNUT TREE (the Extraordinary) - charming, undemanding, very
understanding, knows how to make an impression, active fighter for social
cause, popular, moody, and capricious lover, honest, and tolerant partner,
precise sense of judgment.

HORNBEAM TREE (the Good Taste) - of cool beauty, cares for its looks and
condition, good taste, is not egoistic, makes life as comfortable as
possible, leads a reasonable and disciplined life, looks for kindness and
acknowledgment in an emotional partner, dreams of unusual lovers, is seldom
happy with its feelings, mistrusts most people, is never sure of its
decisions, very conscientious.

LIME TREE (the Doubt) - accepts what life dishes out in a composed way,
hates fighting, stress, and labor, dislikes laziness and idleness, soft and
relenting, makes sacrifices for friends, many talents but not tenacious
enough to make them blossom, often wailing and complaining, very jealous but
loyal.

MAPLE TREE (Independence of Mind) - no ordinary person, full of imagination
and originality, shy and reserved, ambitious, proud, self-confident,hungers
for new experiences, sometimes nervous, has many complexities, good memory,
learns easily, complicated love life, wants to impress.

OAK TREE (the Brave) - robust nature, courageous, strong, unrelenting,
independent, sensible, does not like change, keeps its feet on the ground,
person of action.

OLIVE TREE (the Wisdom) - loves sun, warmth and kind feelings, reasonable,
balanced, avoids aggression and violence, tolerant, cheerful, calm,
well-developed sense of justice, sensitive, empathetic, free of jealousy,
loves to read and the company of sophisticated people.

PINE TREE (the Particular) - loves agreeable company, very robust, knows how
to make life comfortable, very active, natural, good companion, but seldom
friendly, falls easily in love but its passion burns out quickly, gives up
easily, everything disappointments until it finds its ideal, trustworthy,
practical.

POPLAR TREE (the Uncertainty) - looks very decorative, not very
self-confident, only courageous if necessary, needs goodwill and pleasant
surroundings, very choosy, often lonely, great animosity, artistic nature,
good organizer, tends to lean toward philosophy, reliable in any situation,
takes partnership seriously.

ROWAN TREE (the Sensitivity) - full of charm, cheerful, gifted without
egoism, likes to draw attention, loves life, motion, unrest, and even
complications, is both dependent and independent, good taste, artistic,
passionate, emotional, good company, does not forgive.

WALNUT TREE (the Passion) - unrelenting, strange and full of contrasts,
often egotistic, aggressive, noble, broad horizon, unexpected reactions,
spontaneous, unlimited ambition, no flexibility, difficult and uncommon
partner, not always liked but often admired, ingenious strategist, very
jealous and passionate, no compromise.

WEEPING WILLOW (the Melancholy) - beautiful but full of melancholy,
attractive, very empathetic, loves anything beautiful and tasteful, loves to
travel, dreamer, restless, capricious, honest, can be influenced but is not
easy to live with, demanding, good intuition, suffers in love but finds
sometimes an anchoring partner.

Insta-Who?

I got an Allah-lanche yesterday.

It felt goooooooooood.

Clipped From My Hometown Paper

Nursing is hard on a person.
Just ask Judy.

I've Never Met A Meme I Didn't Like

Today's Political Correctness Gag Moment

VH1's "I Love The 80s Strikes Back: 1986"- during a segment on "L.A. Law", one chick referred to a character as "the retarded guy."
And they fucking bleeped out "retarded."
Excuse me while I go write a subtle note of protest on a brick and throw it through the VH1 censor's window.

Resistance Is Futile

My life is rated R.
What is your life rated?

I Gave Them The Shirt On My Back

I just was talking to a friend, who mentioned she was going to be having breast reduction surgery.
I was shocked. Shocked right down to my tootsies.
Not at what she was going to do... no, she's had some serious back problems from hefting those things around, since she's gained quite a bit of weight. It was just a matter of time.
Nope, what shocked me was my inner reaction: I was so jealous.

I've had this pair, whom I call "The Boys", since I was thirteen. They've served me well. Lord knows how many drinks I might have had to buy myself without them. They give me cause to throw money like it was confetti on Mardi Gras at Victoria's Secret. And speaking of, I have a lovely bead collection they were responsible for.

Guests and fish both stink after three days. Try 30 25 20+ years of hosting these one-eyed wonder twins.

Bored? Maybe. Peeved? At times. Fashionably disadvantaged? Most certainly. Styles are usually meant for boards, not bazooms. T-shirts look like they want to scream with strain. Sweaters gasp, buttons gap. Get them a size larger? Sure, if I want the hems dangling round my knees. Ever try to tuck a foot and a half into your pants?
Oh, you wish.

So there's this diet I'm on, and have been on for a while now. The legs are slimming, the ass is shrinking, the arms are trimming.
The Boys are just sitting there, lounging around the ribcage waiting for their next Wonderbra fix.

I want a chest like Debra Messing has. You know, Grace from "Will and Grace". Or rather, like she doesn't have. She's damn near flat. She's all tidy nipples and sleek camisoles. She never has to worry about showing too much cleavage. She's never lost a toddler in there. (There's a reason I don't babysit anymore.)

Oh yeah, let's talk about the cleavage. If the shirts are buttoned up to the neck, you get nerd-neck claustrophobia. You just can't wear turtlenecks all year round. And the more cleavage you have, the less brains. It's that simple. Ask anyone to rate the supposed mental capacity of two women... the flatty will come off like Marie Curie while the bounitfully-boobed will figure in somewhere around Anna Nicole Smith range.
The lesser the cup, the I.Q. goes up.

I guess for now I'll have to make peace with The Boys. Take them all in stride. Try to ignore their propensity to act as ad-hoc thermometers. Suffer the little t-shirts to cover unto me.
And when I get older, I can claim them on my taxes as dependents.

I humbly apologize for that last line. The GM1 thought it up and he's so very proud.

William Gibson wrote your book. Technology
terrifies and delights you.

Which Author's Fiction are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
(snitched from Eric, who likes cats.)

I could not be happier about the result of this. I worship William Gibson to the point where I've formed my own little one-member cult. I own five copies of "Neuromancer" (one signed by the author), just in case it should ever go out of print and a copy falls to ruin, I have backups.
The thing about his books is they make me feel strangely homesick, for a home that doesn't yet exist. "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" does the same thing to me.

Too Much Little, Too Soon

I think it's very delusional optimistic of me to be checking for blog updates at 6:30 in the morning, don't you?
On a Saturday, no less.

Who's up for mimosas?

Bobo's Choice #630-E

The Cutie Bunch Friendly Fun Pack

The only book you'll ever need.
Ever.

Cat Physics

Law of Cat Inertia
A cat at rest will tend to remain at rest, unless acted upon by some outside force - such as the opening of cat food, or a nearby scurrying mouse.

Law of Cat Motion
A cat will move in a straight line, unless there is a really good reason to change direction.

Law of Cat Magnetism
All blue blazers and black sweaters attract cat hair in direct proportion to the darkness of the fabric.

Law of Cat Thermodynamics
Heat flows from a warmer to a cooler body, except in the case of a cat, in which case all heat flows to the cat.

Law of Cat Stretching
A cat will stretch to a distance proportional to the length of the nap just taken.

Law of Cat Sleeping
All cats must sleep with people whenever possible, in a position as uncomfortable for the people involved as is possible for the cat.

Law of Cat Elongation
A cat can make her body long enough to reach just about any counter top that has anything remotely interesting on it.

Law of Cat Acceleration
A cat will accelerate at a constant rate, until he gets good and ready to stop.

Law of Dinner Table Attendance
Cats must attend all meals when anything good is served.

Law of Rug Configuration
No rug may remain in its naturally flat state for very long.


Law of Obedience Resistance
A cat's resistance varies in proportion to a human's desire for her to do something.

First Law of Energy Conservation
Cats know that energy can neither be created nor destroyed and will, therefore, use as little energy as possible.

Second Law of Energy Conservation
Cats also know that energy can only be stored by a lot of napping.

Law of Refrigerator Observation
If a cat watches a refrigerator long enough, someone will come along and take out something good to eat.

Law of Electric Blanket Attraction
Turn on an electric blanket and a cat will jump into bed at the speed of light.

Law of Random Comfort Seeking
A cat will always seek, and usually take over, the most comfortable spot in any given room.

Law of Bag / Box Occupancy
All bags and boxes in a given room must contain a cat within the earliest possible nanosecond.

Law of Cat Embarrassment
A cat's irritation rises in direct proportion to her embarrassment times the amount of human laughter.

Law of Furniture Replacement
A cat's desire to scratch furniture is directly proportional to the cost of the furniture.

Law of Cat Landing
A cat will always land in the softest place possible.

Law of Cat Disinterest
A cat's interest level will vary in inverse proportion to the amount of effort a human expends in trying to interest him.

Law of Pill Rejection
Any pill given to a cat has the potential energy to reach escape velocity.

Law of Cat Composition
A cat is composed of Matter + Anti-Matter + It Doesn't Matter.

I really miss my cats. Damn it.

One Two Three Four....

I'm going to attempt to do this weeks Friday Five without my first cup of coffee.
Anyone who bugs me while I'm doing it gets a spoon in the eye.

1. What food do you like that most people hate? My first impulse is to say "sushi", but then I realize tons of people must love sushi. How else could they get away with charging $6 for a tiny little morsel? Supply and demand, children.
So then I tried to think of food that I can clear the room just by suggesting.
One of my favorite snacks that my mom will stock up on for my visits but will not stay within smelling distance of is Penrose hot, pickled mini-sausages with salt and vinegar Pringles. All crunched up in a bowl. Mmmmm.
I also love:
Mustard... just plain mustard, on a spoon right out of the jar.
Peanut butter, mayo, and lettuce sandwiches
Tomato soup with olives in it.

2. What food do you hate that most people love?
I hate cooked fruit. I can eat an apple, a peach, a strawberry.... right out of the produce section, a little wash... chomp chomp chomp. But as soon as you turn that fruit into pie filling or sauce or preserves, I start gagging. And dried fruit? Forget it. Don't make me start the whole explanation of how dried apricots look like monkey testicles.

3. What famous person, whom many people may find attractive, is most unappealing to you?
Sean Penn, who can attract the passion of pop stars and princess brides, makes my stomach turn. I can't look at a bit of film he's in, except Fast Times at Ridgemont High. For some reason, he was tolerable then.

4. What famous person, whom many people may find unappealing, do you find attractive?
Tom Hanks is not hot. Tom Hanks is not built. Tom Hanks is not on a lot of pin-up calendars. I worship the very ground Tom Hanks walks on.
That is all.

5. What popular trend baffles you?
The current tendency to make everything hip-hop related. The new McDonald's commercial? Set to some stupid hip-hop beat. The I-Pod commercial? Silhouettes of people dressed hip-hopping dancing hip-hop to hip-hop music. Hip-hop is not real music, boys and girls. It's bad rhymes about whores and drugs set to an overly-bassed beat mumbled by sullen wanna-be gangbangers with named like 10cents and PuffyDiddly.
Don't get me started.

I warned you not to agitate me before I'd had my coffee, didn't I? Okay, then, there's a spoon here with your name on it... hold still.

Until Lincoln Yelps

Northstar over at The Peoples Republic of Seabrook has his own suggestions for saving a little coin.

I can vouch for 3, 12, and 14 the benefits of thinking thrifty.
Are you done with that newspaper?

Another Earworm

"Cows With Guns"- a sing-along bloodfesty cartoon the whole family can enjoy.
I know I did.
courtesy of MargiLowry, whose name I pronounce like one word

I Expect Zeus Any Time Now

I love it- a blog war between mythological beings.

My money's on this guy, he makes me so want to be a little Satan.

Impulse Typing

Been seeing a lot of dust kicked up by this whole gender roles disagreement between Kim Du Toit and Michele Catalano. So I went, read both sides, and came away with my quickie opinion.

It's all bullshit.

Between the ridiculous muzzle that "political correctness" requires and the constantly changing social climate on who should be doing what, it makes no sense to expect someone to "act like a man" or "be a real woman."

Be a real person.
Be responsible.
Be honorable.
Be considerate.
Be at least civil.
Be confident.
But please, be quiet now.

Look in your pants. What you see is what you get, not what defines your behavior.

thus endeth the rant.

1. In my house, we use the terms "politically correct" or "pc" as a substitute for the C word. Means about the same anyway.

2. And I didn't link to either side of the argument because I think this stupid subject has gotten enough play already and don't want to grandiate it any further.

3. Which I guess I kind of did, didn't I, with this post? Damn my impulsive opinionation.

That Sound You Hear? It's a Cherry Popping.

Today is my first ever appearance on Carnival of the Vanities, hosted this week by Wizbang.
I'm so tickled to be included that I might just wet my drawers.
What? Too much? What?

The Pitter Patter

The recent news item about a school bus driver batting a bratty boy on his bus has Serenity feeling not so serene. (I completely agree, btw.)
Big Arm Woman has her hands full of little not-so-very angels too.

All this made me remember a spot of spats about spawn going on back in my old neighborhood...

The Letter Everyone Is Too Nice To Write

Dear Wendy,
There is the final stepped-on nerve, there is the final straw that broke the camel's back, and then there is Paige.
Let's make this clear right off the bat... Paige is YOUR child. You and Tim begat her. In a jump of logic you can't quite seem to grasp, you and Tim are responsible for her. For her well-being, for her behavior, and for taking care of. Not us. Not your friends, who are a rapidly-dwindling category due to all this, not your neighbors. Paige is not the neighborhood child. She is not everyone's duty.
We know she's only three. We know she's not going to have perfect manners just yet. We know she can't be understood by anyone but you and Tim, and that you're only guessing at what she's babbling. We know we don't want any part of it.
She's your albatross, and it's your neck. Don't expect us to carry your burden.
Who spoiled her? Who raised her to have no restraints, no rules? Who raised her to be the near-autistic, unintelligible, more-trouble-than-a-pack-of-capuchin-monkeys-on-crack? That would be you, Wendy. You and Tim.
So when one of you brings her to someone's house, uninvited, and expects those people to assume responsibility for her entertainment and welfare while you run off to visit someone else, or while you're at home sitting on the couch recovering from an all-night visit to your local friends, that is unacceptable.
When you turn your child loose in a home not yours, to torment the pets, throw anything she can reach around like a tornado, and make a bigger mess than Hurricane Andrew while you mutter "oh Paige, stop that." and wait for someone else to rectify the problem, that is unacceptable.
When Paige throws a fit or two or nine, as she is well-known for, it is not for others to deal with it. That is unacceptable.
When you decide you are too tired or too stressed out from running after Paige all day to keep her from destroying what little she hasn't destroyed already, it isn't time to take her someone's home and drop her off for their children, who don't particularly like her, to play with so you can have some free time. This is not acceptable.
Let's cut to the chase, Wendy. Your child is the worst behaved, most animalistic child anyone has ever seen. No one wants to spend time at your house because while there is any other adult around, you assume they will monitor YOUR child's actions in YOUR house.
Why a letter here? Why don't we all confront you and try to make you understand you are losing friends because you think we all want to mind your kid? Because, as much as we hate to admit it, you can't take a hint to save your life, Wendy.
Example: how many times have we told you we don't want to hear about your junkie-friend Yasha, or your local friends down the block that we all avoid? Uncountable. How many times in a conversation do you yammer on about them to us? Uncountable. I rest my case.
To be honest, we feel sorry for you and Tim. You are blindly accepting of every single bit of bad acting-out and wretched mischief that constitutes your child's daily life. You are reaping the fruit of the spoiled rotten tree. We want to be your friends. But we don't want to raise your child.
It's YOUR tree. No one else's. Yours.
Please, keep your fruit on your side of the fence. It's rotten to the core.
Sorry.
Us

written back in June '03, but still sadly necessary

Bobo's Choice #123581321

In honor of the person who visited the Cheese by googling "mathematics Dirty Monkeys Smell Bad", I give you the Fibonacci Series, explained so even I understood it.

New From "Do You Have More Money Than Sense? We Can Help!" Productions

Apparently the answer to all this violence and strife was right under our nose feet.

Introducing The Peace Rug.

For those who are full of ire but on limited budgets, they will eventually be releasing the Peace Washcloth and, for travellers, the Peace Lintball.
by way of Bifurcated Rivets

Bitsy

He found it under the shotgun seat of a rusting 1982 Volvo he bought the year before he flunked out of the university. He was chasing an errant quarter he needed to complete his transaction of a Big Mac and his hand brushed rough softness. He pulled it out and found himself holding a ragged blue ski cap. He never did find the quarter and had to settle for just fries. He would wear the cap sometimes and imagine it had been worn with similar feelings by the imagined previous owner of the car, a daringly handsome young professional skier who had suffered a tragic accident on the icy slopes of the Alps and died in the arms of a beautiful yet mysterious French nurse named Marie, who entered a convent shortly thereafter.
In reality, the car had been owned before by a large family formerly from New Jersey, and their fat, flatulent, perpetually-in-heat beagle named Bitsy. She dragged the cap into the yard one gray November afternoon, and subsequently into the car when the family went to the grocery store and she rode along, tongue flapping in the breeze as she farted merrily. She would sleep on the cap at odd intervals in which she would suddenly drop flat and immediately lapse into doggy dreams of lust. She also carried it into the car as she was being taken to the vet's office to be spayed in a last-ditch effort to combat her persistent suitors, who scented her heat from miles around and disrupted the neighborhood with their howls of unrequited passion.
In later years, as his life and the car both settled into a routine, he would forget the cap. But he would rediscover it when he worked on the old engine, performing an oil change or examining the brake shoes, and he would wear it occasionally at these times, somewhat out of nostalgia for his imagination, and also to keep his hair off the dirt of the driveway. But he never could figure out why, as he lay prone under the car, all the neighborhood dogs wanted to hump his head.

Bobo's Choice #81153