the cheese stands alone

Gummy Bare

I survived.
I still retain whining rights for the rest of the day, but all my toofs (as I used to call 'em before I had most of 'em) are intact and for the most part, in dandy shape.
Dandy is techno-dental-speak for "not falling out anytime soon."

I also discovered my dentist is one of those cool guys who not only has the latest gizmos but will let me play with them too.
I spent quite a bit of time coordinating the thing-that-squirts with the thing-that-sucks.
Yes, I know how that sounds. Deal with it.

And now I'm going to go give my teeth a darn good workout on that lovely salad I picked up on the way home.

Kicking and Screaming

I have to go to the dentist pretty soon. Okay, I'm supposed to be there in like an hour. That counts as pretty soon. Too damn soon for me.
I got up extra early so I could brush my teeth every ten minutes until I walk out the door, and I have a travel toothbrush and the ever-present desire to spit on idiots in MY lane on the freeway, thus serving two masters right there.
I don't wanna go.
It's been four years since I last laid back, helpless, and opened wide for a strange man with a variety of implements with which to probe me. This time frame should tell you how much I wanted to rush right back into the same situation and experience the same gleeful abandon that makes me say things like "Sure, I'll take another fluoride rinse!" and "No, no, go right ahead, double-bill me for procedures I haven't ever had, it's all in good fun, right?"
Bastards.

So, I have to go to the dentist pretty soon. Very soon. Too damn soon for me.
The last dentist I went to was so diligent in his cleaning that I left his office packed to the jowls with cotton wads, to absorb the blood he'd gouged from my tender little gums, who'd never harmed anyone and were innocent of any crime warranting that sort of abuse. And as I left, doing my "Godfather" imitation, unable to move my entire lower half of my skull, the man offered me a lollypop.
I did the only thing I could do with my jaw botox/novacained into a block of throbbing granite... I glared.
Dr. Probemepokememakemebleed misinterpreted.
"It's okay" he smiled. "It's sugar free!"

Yeah, I have to go to the dentist very soon. And I'm not thrilled.
It doesn't exactly put me at complete ease that the current Mengele of the molars thinks he's a funny guy. At one point, in the last visit, he had both hands in my mouth, and was apparently looking for the crew of the Marie Celeste somewhere south of my tonsils. Suddenly he stopped, and stared fixedly into my eyes.
I got a bit worried. Dr. Olderthanmud was going to have his long-awaited stroke and fall forward, jamming both hands down my gullet so hard that once they pried him off with the jaws of life, I'd still be pooping latex gloves three weeks later.
But no... he was just winding up for the pitch....
"Is it....." he muttered. "Is it.... is it SAFE?"

I think I'll wait until the bill comes before I take care of him. Once I show them the balance due, no jury in the world will convict me.

I have to go to the dentist now.

The Fun Just Keeps On Comin'

You know you've reached that certain point in insomnia when you find yourself singing along with the commercials.
Loudly.
And before you notice, you wonder "What the HELL is that?"

Another couple of hours and I should have taught myself to tap dance.

Move Along, Nothing To See Here

Overheard from my balcony:
Mom, literally dragging her child up the sidewalk: "But it's Show and Tell Day. Don't you want to go to Show and Tell Day?"
Child, wailing: "I don't wanna Show! I don't got no Show! I can't Tell if I don't got a Show!"

About Damn Time

I finally cleaned out my purse.
I'd say it was due.

Now maybe the EPA will stop calling me.

He's Out There, Watching Me

I couldn't go out on the balcony all day yesterday. There was a giant grasshopper out there, just waiting for me to come outside so he could hop on me and chew his way through to my liver (because that's what grasshoppers do. Everybody knows that.)
Finally the suspense became unbearable and I dug through the cabinets to find the Raid and sprayed the beast for five minutes.
I still can't go out on the balcony.
There's a giant dead grasshopper out there.

The Cure, Sans Vast Quantities of Eyeliner

I am in a Bad Mood. And when I get in a Bad Mood, I do several things:
I drink (this time margaritas because I wanted to play with the blender)
I clean (not as well as one could hope after several margaritas)
I write exacting, erudite letters of complaint to various agencies and/or people who have pissed me off, the text of which mostly consisting of "You suck! I hope all your children look like monkeys and that you are cursed with incurable crotch itch!"
I indulge my rebellious streak and do laundry without separating whites from colors.
I kibbitz the players on Jeopardy. "Who is Hunter S. Thompson, my ASS!"
And I blog incoherently.
Please note, that last should in no way be taken to mean exclusively at times like this.
PS.... if you make margaritas with 4 times the tequila listed on the back-of-mix-bottle recipe, they are so much better. I'm just sayin'.

Get Yer Woo-Woos Out

I don't know exactly what kind of emergency vehicle it is, but there's one out there on the freeway near the apartment, wailing its siren off, and it's just.... pathetic.
"Woooooo" it says. "Woooo."
Just like that. No exclamation point.
It sounds like a cross between a very old rodeo clown and a tired old preacher who's just discovered the joys of a lapdance but wants to be discreet.
"Woooo."

How About Them (Insert Random Sports Team Here)?

The GM1 has been out at sea a few days, and I find myself undergoing a sex change. To wit:
1. I hang about in my underwear, scratching freely at whatever parts I can reach, until I am forced by work circumstances to shower and dress.
2. I wear the same shirt until I can visually sense the scent patterns embedded in it.
3. The fridge has nothing in it but a half-empty pizza box, a crusty bottle of cocktail sauce lying on its side, and three cases of beer.
4. I kibbitz'd "The Matrix" last night... "You call that a kick? You only had both feet in the air for two minutes, dude! You kick like a GIRL, Neo!"
5. I fed the fish pizza crust to see if they'd eat it.
6. They did. I have some meanass goldfish.
7. I have emitted so many various gases that the EPA is crank calling me and the termite people want to hire me, if I come with my own big tent-thingy.
8. I told them I do, it's called my prom dress from high school.
9. I laid on the couch for four hours the other day watching porn until the wavy lines gave me a headache.
10. It would have been five hours but I found the remote... under a piece of pizza on the floor.
11. I have appointments with five prominent anthropologists who want to study the ratio of Time Spend On My Own to Distance Of Knuckles From Ground.

The GM1 returns relatively soon. I have to pull myself out of this and burn the entire apartment to the ground, which will be bad news for the people downstairs since I live on the second floor but hey, life's hard. Get a frickin' helmet tidy up a little.
I also need to shave my legs. Does anyone have a weedwhacker I can borrow?
(who am I kidding? I live like this all the time. I am a slobbalicious Cheese.)

Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting*

I discovered why I've been feeling kind of blah in the mornings.
I was worried I was being courted by a relapse of the previous plague du sinus, but it turns out I had accidentally bought decaf.
Evidently I misread the label at the market.
I really really have to get my eyes checked.
*As you can tell, this title has nothing to do with the post. I just liked the way it sounds.

I Only Have Ears For You

I just noticed how, totally at random, a certain section of my playlist evolves...
"Good Person Inside"
"I Kissed a Girl"
"Detachable Penis"
"New Toy"
"Paradise City"

Hmmmm.

Note To Self: Must Get Ammo

What kind of moron rides a mini-scooter (one of those little clown ones that sounds like a lawnmower on steriods and speed) to work at 6 bloody 30 in the damnable AM?
Dead man riding, that's all I'm sayin'.

Well, Read

There is a new gigantic meme going around, one that you bold or italicize the titles of books you've finished or started but not quite done with. Robert at Xset has the current list, counting out at 438.

I'm going to go at this in a roundabout fashion.... I'm just going to tell you about my personal book collection....

I finally caved in to unceasing insurance agent nagging common sense and arranged for us to have renter's insurance. Consequently, for the privilege of paying a pile of cash so that in event of flood, fire or famine (but not earthquake, because this is California and by god, a little 8.5 ain't gonna slow us down) we lose all our earthly goods, we will be reimbursed at a basic exchange rate of three cents on the dollar.
(I'm sure it must be more than that, but being the cynic I am, I know some insurance bigwig is even now lighting his cigars with my premiums, muttering "Dey doan need dat stuff. Big Tony, he need da Hummah!" and come the day after a disaster, I shall be in the second cardboard box from the right under the freeway overpass.)
But I digress.....

Basically, my math indicates:
Our clothing cash value was so low it appears we're nudists.
Our furniture cash value was low enough that my niece's Barbie's Dream House has higher resale value.
Our kitchen stuff cash value was in the negative numbers.
But our book collection cash value was over $20,000.

Ergo, we are basically naked savages squatting on scraps of cardboard and eating out of our hands... but we're very well-read savages.

All amounts based on very scientific guesstimation. Book count was around 1,900, having been interrupted several times by unhelpful pains in the tush the GM1 standing behind me randomly chanting numbers to throw me off kibbitzing. Aforementioned book collection is 80% paperback, 18% hardback, and 2% good porn. Tax, title and license not included. Your mileage may vary. She sells sea shells by the sea shore.

Partnership

Sometimes you wake up, and your brain says "Good morning, world!" and your body says "Bugger off."
Sometimes you wake up, and your body says "Lemme at it! It's all mine!" and your brain says "Are you insane, Waldo? We need coffee first."
Sometimes you wake up and discovered your brain has gone to that alternate universe where you have the really great haircut and look hot enough that Gina Gershon is hitting on you, only to have your body be a killjoy and remain in its pre-sleep condition.
And sometimes you don't wake up until your brain and body have conspired to sleepwalk you out to the parking lot in your pajamas, still in the midst of the dream you are Horton looking for your Who.
Thank goodness you remembered to wear pajamas last night, huh?

Heal Thyself Indeed

Down in the parking lot, I can see the locksmith's van, a regular sight around here what with people moving in and out all the livelong day.
I can also hear the locksmith's van, more accurately its alarm, screaming like a stepped-on cat.
And I can see the locksmith and his trusty apprentice, plus several "helpful" bystanders, all trying to get his keys out of the van where they've been locked in.

Tommy, Can You See Me?

I think it's time for my every ten years whether I need it or not annual eye exam.
I just spent ten minutes out in the parking lot cooing and talking baby talk to a very shy, very still kitten who turned out to be a wet spot on the apartment stairs.
And yes, for those of you with keen survival instincts, they let me drive.

Deadwoodian Influences

From what I can hear, the woman downstairs is bludgeoning her vacuum cleaner to death with a chainsaw while trying to force it into a running dishwasher.
I think it's a full-on case of Rampantly Rabid Spring Cleaning.... mainly because I heard her shriek at her Tart-in-Training teenage daughter "Laurel, so help me god, if you don't take the trash out right now I'm going to feed you to Wu's pigs!"
Yes, it's that good.

Notes From the Shower

1. If you turn on the shower and step directly into it, it is guaranteed that:
a. You will have wet pajamas.
b. You find you really can hit high C, via the slowest water heater in creation.
2. Taking the coffee into the shower with you does save time... however....
3. Telling yourself the flung-off soap bubbles that land in it are just cappuchino froth is just a big fib, as you will soon discover.
4. Do not trim the timberline until you are fully awake, and can focus with both eyes, otherwise the pubic ranch will come to resemble a faux-Piccasso.
5. Did I just say "pubic ranch"? I did? How appalling.
6. "Appalling" cannot be spelled without two trips to the dictionary.
7. Singing in the shower is acceptable. Tapdancing in the shower is not, according to the people who live downstairs.
8. Subject A is left-handed. If Subject A, for a lark, tries to q-tip her ears with her right hand, how much brain damage will Subject A incur? Please show your work.
9. If you miss one little patch whilst shaving your legs, that little patch will stand out like a Ginsu knife salesman at a bar mitzvah bris. (correction courtesy of Jim the astute)
10. "Southern Peach Delight" might sound like a good fragrance for a body lotion, but it smells like canned butt.
11. These are not my panties.
12. I am the only female living here.
13. What the fuck?
14. Trying to comb your hair while you brush your teeth will only end in minty fresh follicles.
15. Yes, it does sound like a neat idea to have a gathering where everyone shows off movies of their tushes and call it the "Cans Film Festival", because the merchandise tie-ins are endless.
16. I should have said bottomless, huh?
17. The hair dryer is not a photon ray gun. Dammit.
18. Oh, wait... these ARE my panties.
19. I had them on backwards.

Flip That Coin

It's one of those mornings where I can't decide which would be easier: Go ahead and take a shower or just try to stay downwind of everyone the rest of the day.

Neither Rain, Nor Snow, Nor Neighborly Wrath....

The couple across the hall are calling it quits, after ten years of marriage. Fortunately for the entertainment quotient around here, they're doing it in a very loud and public way.
We now know, for example, that Mr. has uncontrollable gas and a very unreliable erection. We've also learned that Mrs. will do it with basically any delivery person and/or census taker and has a resistant toenail fungus that she disguises with designer nail polish.
Mr. stuffs his undies. Mrs. stuffs her face.
No one is really sure who the father of the teenage son is. Mr. says he can't even be sure that Mrs. is the mother.
(I'm still puzzling that one out. )
On the downside of this ongoing demonstation of how lawyers make buckets of money, Mr. and Mrs. are dying to recruit bystanders to their individual causes and you have to move fast to avoid the "he said she said" buttonholing that results if you're caught.
I've set my alarm for 2:00AM. I need to go get my mail.

Happy Feet

One of you has reached out and touched someone. Okay, touched me... I mean, touched my feet.
What I mean is, after babbling with happy, is one of you kind people has sneaked onto my wish list and gifted me with a gorgeous pair of Converse high-top sneakers, with pretty pretty comics on them.
Whoever you are, my toes and those who gaze in rapture upon them thank you!!

This is so very much the kind of thing I need after a long day of insulting and corrupting the youth of America.
You guys are the best.

2000 Words

Harvey said once, in a fit of commenting madness, that "This place needs more LeeAnn pics." I imagine he means pics of me, but being the stubbornly obtuse cheesemistress that I am, I choose to believe he means pics belonging to me.
And with that, I give you a picture of a minor miracle....
My daughter, Kelly.

She's not only gorgeous, she has the gift of phrase-turnage.
This is her dog, Endo Beaner Bagby, of whom she says:
"He has little bumps all over him and his breath smells like a bucket of sea shells that has been left in the hot car after a day on the beach. "

Told You So

I knew it wasn't my fault, I knew it I knew it I knew it!
The modem had gone completely ka-ka-licious.
So the repair guy, who was a very nice man despite the fact I had no Mt. Dew in the house and he was forced to drink Diet Pepsi, swapped it out with a new one and zing zam zoom, I have internet again.

Of course, I have nothing to blog about NOW.
Time to stand out on the balcony and wait for the neighborhood to provide.....

Update On My Woes

Neither rain nor snow nor gloom of computer bugger-ups can slow the Cheesemistress from her appointed damn near obsessive-compulsive template changes. Although I have to admit, what with technical difficulties, it took me over 4 hours. Now, that's true lunatic behavior dedication.
And in a related item, the ISP has admitted maybe there's a problem and are sending a guy out to "look at it". From the tone of their voice, they think I've driven a railroad spike through the cable somewhere.
Huh. Shows what they know.... it was a fondue fork.

Miffed (And Really, Is A Miff As Good As A Mile?)

My computer is constipated. Rather, let's be clear and restate: my internet connection is constipated. Let's be even more needlessly graphic clear: my ISP appears to have taken a tremendous, diarrhetic dump into my modem.
What I'm trying oh so delicately to say is, things are pretty shitty, computer-wise.

Most every page I've tried to access, both in IE6 and Mozilla 1.5, times out. Reloading sometimes works, but not always. Pictures come through about 1/10 of the time. Some pages just look extremely off, like something stripped all the prettiness code out.
Why, yes, it does sound like a virus... but...
(And how could I have a post about how shitty things are without having a "but"?)
I have run Norton, with updated virus definitions, several times. I have run AdAware, Spybot Blaster, and Clean Center. I tried to run the Symantec online check but that's kind of futile when the main problem is nothing will load.
I've downloaded nothing new prior to all this poopla. I've deleted nothing.
And naturally, when I called the ISP, they said why, of course there's nothing untoward going on in your area, you are just inept and cootie-ridden.... but
(see? another "but"!) we are having just a tad bit of trouble determining that your cable modem is functioning, so we'll send a guy to check it out.
So here I am, stalled on the side of the information highway, which has become an information dirt path through the woods, littered with trodden-upon poo.
Until later tomorrow, when allegedly the cable guy will come and fix everything all better.

Yes, as I re-read this I realize it is possibly the most boring, self-serving, whiny post but yet I feel compelled nonetheless to share with you this dark side of the Cheese.
Sorry. Smart-assery and tarded neighborhood tales will resume once I can face the keyboard and not cry in frustration.
I bet I hit "save" and it times out and I lose all this.
Damn.

Like A Man On Mars Throwing Away Oxygen

Very calmly and carefully, I took the lid off the sugarbowl and spooned sugar into my cup. Then I laid down the spoon, took up the coffeepot, and poured a nice, steaming cup of coffee.... into the open sugarbowl.

I am going back to bed.

You Asked, They Answered ("They" Meaning Me and the Little Voices In My Head) Part 3

All kneel at the feet of DaGoddess as she asks:
1) Can I borrow your car? Mine's giving me the automotive equivalent of the middle finger today.
My car never gives me the finger. It merely holds out an open palm, begging for more and more money. And any day I don't gots to have my wheels, dear, you are certainly welcome to 'em.
2) When are we going to eat hot dogs together again?
One of these days, your schedule and mine are going to synch up properly and then, if the restraining order from Oscar Mayer has expired, oh yea verily, we shall eat weiners.
3) Do you think we'll get kicked out of Ikea/Price Club for eating hot dogs the way we do?
I think both Ikea and Price Club should have to pay us for eating their hot dogs. The way we do it, nothing less than a sale-day crowd would be attracted.
And a corollary question from Bob:
1.Have you considered producing a Bloggers Gone WILD! video when you and Da Goddess eat hot dogs together again ?
We actually did try that, but the camera kept melting.

Xade (spelled like it sounds) asks:
1. If I have already posted this thing on my blog before, do I have to do it again or is it an 'all you can ask' kind of deal?
This kind of thing is like breathing or watching "Teletubbies".... you can do it as much as your system will allow. But remember, moderation is the key to clean living.
I wonder if there's a 12 step program for bloggerholics?
2. Cause I didn't fall under the 'First five people get an honest answer' category, does that mean I can just assume that you weren't exactly telling the truth in your first answer?
Never assume, because then you make a donkey out of me and my.... wait... okay, never legume because then you make a bean out of.... that's not right.... never resume because you should Finnish your Dutch treat.....
Nevermind.
Just know I would never, ever lie to you, Xade. Maybe to the rest of them, but never you. Just use the secret decoder ring.
3. How exactly does one become a Munuvian, do you have a secret ring or handshake or somethin?
It's a complicated process involved DNA restructuring, a series of biomodifications, and the vast and overwhelming generousity of the wonderful Pixy Misa, without whom I would not exist.
Okay, yeah, Mom and Dad had a little to do with it.

You Asked, They Answered ("They" Meaning Me and the Little Voices In My Head) Part Deux

Lovely Maura asks:
1. Of what are you most proud in your life?
I'd have to take the easy answer here, Maura, and say of course my marriage to the GM1. It's my one shining successful move in an otherwise self-checkmated game.
If you want the SECOND most proud moment, a moment where I felt like a peacock in full flaunt, see the continued answer to this in the extended entry**
2. Top Ten DVDs if you were stuck on a deserted island (with a DVD player, TV with surround sound, and a generator).
Holy crap, Maura, you play rough, girl. Lessee.....
Fifth Element
Kill Bill Vol. 1
Fight Club
The Thin Man series
Moulin Rouge
Grease
Paint Your Wagon
Princess Bride
Young Frankenstein
and of course, Chicago
3. Here's a million bucks. What would you do with it (it doesn't all have to go in one place)?
I'm about to get all Responsible and Boring now. I'd pay off all my debts, give cash gifts to all my family, and buy a house so the GM1 can have a dog. Oh, and buy the dog as well.
And maybe a cruise.
With Tom Hanks.

Pixy, who obviously has forgotten who (or what) he's dealing with, asks:
1. Is the Goldbach conjecture correct?
I believe not. It's socially impossible to get three primes in a room without all that nitpicking and infighting that makes the soiree just impossible.
2. What "proof" did Fermat have in mind that would not fit into the infamous margin?
He intended to prove that, at the time, the margins were just too damn small. He succeeded.
3. Why does the universe appear to have one time and three space dimensions?
Because there's never enough time but you can always find room for jello.
(Sorry to have to go all super-genius with a non sequitor complex on you with this one, but sometimes rational thought just won't do...... okay, yeah, like rational thought and I were ever in the same room.... HA!)

**1. My second most proud moment was a very fleeting one, and trivial, and probably stupid. But it's mine, I tell you, mine!
At one time, I could dance. I don't mean classically trained ballet or tap, nothing any self-respecting terpsichordian teacher would cop to. I mean shake dat booty and wiggle dat thing. This was back in the late 80s, when club dancing was all shimmy and big hair and spandex.
So one New Year's Eve, having just moved to San Diego, the soon-to-be-ex (may he rot in a hell of moldy fishhead stew and crotch-itch) and I called a truce in our ongoing war and went out. Being the big spender he was, we walked four blocks down the street to the local dive. STB-ex had thoughtfully taken the opportunity while I dressed to get shitfaced in advance, and by picking a fight with the bouncer before even setting foot in the place managed to ensure I'd have a lovely New Year's Eve all on my own.
Did I mention that I had all our celebration money in my own hot little pockets? Yeah.
So I went on in, commandeered a tiny table next to the dance floor, had a couple of beers for Dutch courage..... and I danced all by myself for the next four hours. I knew no one there. No one knew me. And all us no ones had nothing to prove and no rep to uphold.
Clothing stayed on. Movements never went lewd. Gravity remained my buddy and didn't suck my ass to the ground in a sudden power display.
At one point, the band, before going on break, applauded me.
A couple of women asked me if I gave dance lessons. I drank free the entire night. And no one (yep, the infamous No One again) made any kind of advances or hits or whatever.
Maybe it was coming through that I wasn't dancing to entice or lure. I was dancing to celebrate. Celebrate the new year. Celebrate that I was young and healthy and living in SoCal. Celebrate that final sweet "click" in the brain that made me realize it was absolutely 110% over with the Ex and I could move on.
Danced my ass off, I most certainly did.
And the next business day, filed for divorce.

You Asked, They Answered ("They" Meaning Me and the Little Voices In My Head)

DRC asks:
1. If you could be alone in a room with one person for 24 hours with no repercussions, who would it be?
Tom Hanks. Without question, Tom Hanks. I have had a Tom Hanks fixation since "Bosom Buddies." It's now increased to the power of a neurotic obsession. I can't watch any movie, or at least any part of a movie, where something bad happens to Tom Hanks. I cried hysterically for three days after I saw "Cast Away".
To this day, I curse the name of Helen Hunt.
Curse you, Helen. Curse you again.
2. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
In a penthouse, with room service and a spectacular view.
With Tom Hanks.
3. Would you ever be on a Reality Show?
Well, now I know that I don't know you in life-outside-bloggery, DRC, because my friends and family are sick unto death of hearing me go on and on and on about how my dream is to be on "Survivor". I'd settle for "Big Brother", but "Survivor" is the true enchilada.
If I can't have Tom Hanks, by the way, Jeff Probst is a damn close second.
Wait, if I'm a really good cheese, can I have both?

One of my idols, Teresa, asks:
1) Do you change your hair color everytime you change the colors on your blog?
Not anymore, but in my *coughlonglongagomisspent* youth, I was known as Rainbow Head. I have quite literally, at one time or another, had every color hair possible. My most memorable was the time I sported mainly copper-penny red, with fuschia bangs and rat-tail. Remember rat-tails? Yes, it was that damn long ago.
2) Are you going to apply to be on the next version of Donald Trump's Apprentice so we can get behind the scenes blog reports? (after the Fairy Floss cart - Trump's requests should be a piece of cake -right?)
I want to be the one who follows the Donald around with the hair spray supply. Talk about job security!
3) What's your favorite article of clothing?
Back in those days of yore that sound so much better now than when I was actually living them, I had a black shiny spandex dress, with a zipper running completely up the front and another completely down the back. It was quite the girly-est thing I've ever had, and it was my Weekend Party Till You Drop Dress. Nowadays, modesty and zoning laws have retired The Dress, and my favorite bit of clothing are my plaid Converse hi-top sneakers.

More answers later.... it's almost time for "Survivor", you know.

Just Ask

Other than the underwear ads and the little tearout strips of perfumey paper, one of my favorite part of a magazine is the Interview. They get some wildly famous celeb cornered and ask them blindingly invasive questions like "Who inspired you to act?" and "Do you hope the movie is a success?" (I always want them to say something like "Lizzie Bordon" and "No, because failure makes me hot, baby, red-hot like the surface of the sun in a tight thong and no tan lines! Hot, I tell you!")

So Tiffany has this new meme and being the plagaristic, soul-sucking content vampire responsible blogger that I am, I snuck up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder and when she turned to look I stole it from the other side and ran away laughing because that's just the kind of evil, content-vampire I am, except I have much better sneakers, look... see the plaid? Don't you love plaid sneakers? I could die for a good pair of plaid sneakers, they're so.... je ne se quois, doncha know? decided to help spread the word.

Anyway, the way it works is: you ask me any three questions in the comments here. First five people to do so get absolutely honest answers, unless of course it would violate my witness protection status or involves my pubic hair.
And best of all, it completely absolves me from having to think of interesting, new content for a least another couple of days.
Then, go do the very same thing on your blog. Be brave, be daring, be willing to answer stuff, and when you do open up and tell all, tracky-backy to me.
I like that phrase.... tracky-backy, tracky-backy, tracky-backy.

Mad Scientist

Please note: marbles are in no way a substitute for olives in a martini.

Batteries Not Included

There was a mysterious note in my mailbox when I got home yesterday.
Wait, I should have started that "It was a dark and stormy night"....
Anyway, it was from the Post Office, and wasn't the monthly notice that the mail carrier's Lithium prescription had been refilled so it was okay to talk to him. No, it was one of those little cardboards telling me I had an "oversized envelope" that I could pick up at the main post office between 7:15AM and 7:18AM (if I want maximum old-lady-in-front-of-me-in-line-who-wants-to-buy-stamps-but-pay-for-it-all-with-pennies-
painstakingly-dredged-one-by-on-by-buggery-one-from-the-bottom-of-
the-slight-uriney-odored-plastic-carryall-she's-dragging-behind-her time.
The mysterious part was not "when in the hell will she run out of hyphens and get to the point?" but was the info in the sender box.
I am receiving something from "Adult Ed."
I do not know any Eds, truly.
Is it short for "Adult Education"? And if so, when did I sign up for it? And how did they determine that I'm an adult and not a six year old Pretty Pretty Princess trapped in a middle-aged Dowdy Dowdy Duchess body?
Is it from "Adult" Ed, as opposed to "Child" Ed, who never writes or calls. He's a child, for godsakes, people, what do you expect of him? Whoever he is, I mean.
More importantly, and from the GM1's point of view the main reason I should be pressed up against the Post Office doors waiting in hysteria for them to open, is it porn? Is it free porn? Is it quality free porn?
Or is it just another in a long series of vibrator catalogs?
Yeah, like there aren't enough of those cluttering up the magazine rack in the bathroom already.
What?

If You Find It, Hold On To It For Me

More signs that I've lost it:
1. I just realized that if I have to walk away from the computer to go piddle take care of urgent business, I will close the browser window, even if I'm not done reading, because I have this odd notion it will be used up before I get back.
2. I saw a pretty little desktop fountain in a catalog, and immediately thought "I'd get that, but the cat would be bothering it all the time."
3. I don't have a cat.
4. The email notification sound came on three times this morning, and each time it surprised me so that I yelped like a stepped-on puppy. These three times were within 10 minutes of each other.
5. I walked into the bathroom and had to take a few minutes to remember was I coming in or going out.
6. I had a small nervous breakdown because sometime in the night, my ass had increased in size by 500%.
7. I then realized I had my thong on backwards.
8. Before I finished that last sentence, I.....
9. Ooooh, look! Something shiny!

O Come All Ye Gullible

April Fool's Day, not surprisingly, is one of my favorite holidays. Any holiday that celebrates smartassery and pranks would have to be. Back in the day (don't you love that saying? Like in times past I'd only work in a job one day before they'd wise up and fi.... hey, wait a minute!) when I worked in an office environment, people would actually skip work on April 1st, in fear of the havoc I'd wreak.
Wreak.
Wreak.
Wreak.
If you say that over and over, it sounds like the "Psycho" shower scene noise, doesn't it? Cool.
Anyway, now that I work among in an environment that is so rigid and lacking in a sense of joie de vie that it makes Plymouth Rock Puritans seem like hedonists who got tossed out of the Playboy mansion for being too wild and crazy (Repressive? I got scolded for making a joke about the undeniably ugly uniform pants we're forced to wear.... "You do NOT make fun of The Pants. The Pants are an invaluable part of our team morale! NOW DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY!")
Where the hell was I?
....
.....
.......
Oh yeah.
So now that I'm working in No Fun Central, I miss those days of missing mouse balls and swapped keyboard keys and false pink slips. But now that I think about it, the best prank ever didn't happen in an office.
I pulled it in a mall.
Heh heh heh.
She said "pulled it."

Remember those t-shirt shops that abounded during the mid-80s? You could go in and have little fuzzy letters or crinkly plastic pictures heat-nailed to any t-shirt you liked, creating the illusion that no one else EVER had thought to put a photo of a kitten dangling from a branch with the logo "hang in there, baby!" on a black Hanes Beefy T.
You style maven you.
If it was a really up-and-coming shop, you had an Airbrush Artist On Premises! Here! Now! Live! who was usually a failed art school student with a borrowed air compressor and a huge pot habit.
Most of the time, it was owned by absentee owners who just wanted to have a little income from a place that was lame enough to let their loser son Floyd be assistant manager, albeit in the family tradition, an absentee assistant manager. Fine with us working stiffs.
(hehehehe, she said "stiffs"..... oh shut up already.)

Tammy ran the place. I was just a lowly wage slave. Together, we tormented the guys who worked next door in the tool department at Sears. Especially poor hopelessly horny romantic Bumpy, who had a crush of elephantine proportions on Tammy, since she was about a foot taller and of a different species altogether.
What, you thought "Bumpy" was a nickname? It was a classification.

One day, on his semi-hourly cruise by the counter to see if Tammy was around and had changed her stance on beastiality, Bumpy mentioned that his birthday was in two weeks. Later, I mentioned it to Tammy. And on his next fly-by, Tammy and I told poor gullible Bumpy that we had ordered him A Present for his birthday.
Every day, for the next two weeks, we embellished and embroidered our hints.
Was anyone going to be home at Bumpy's to take delivery, because such a thing would need signatures, since the hauling company was very exclusive, as not many places even had such merchandise.
Would there be a crowbar handy to open the box?
What was his apartment building's pet policy?
Had he had a physical recently? With full innocuations?
Two weeks deadline came.... and went.
Had it arrived yet? we'd ask Bumpy. Did he like it? Wasn't it wonderful?
Not there yet, would be Bumpy's dejected reply.
Disappointment simmered for a week.
Finally, on Bumpy's next "hi, how are ya? Where's my gift? I'll take ten minutes with Tammy in an appliance carton if you want to substitute..." visit, I began to quiz Tammy.
Are you sure, I asked her, that the advertisement promised swift delivery?
Oh yes indeedy, she replied.
And are you sure, I asked, that we were clear on Bumpy's proper address?
Absolutely, she answered.
And when you called in the order, I asked, did they say anything about....
Me? she gasped. Me called in the order? I thought YOU called in the order!
Bumpy looked back and forth and back and forth and back and forth... and then Bumpy wandered off, not a word said.
I never saw Bumpy again, as the following week I got a new job away from the mall and, as retail relationships usually go, didn't keep in touch with Tammy.

....Until about 12 years later, I was back home visiting my mom, and nostalgically visited the mall. The t-shirt shop was still there. The airbrush stoner was still there. And Tammy was still there.
Nothing like stasis, is there?
So Tammy and I caught up a little, played "remember when?" and "whatever happened to?", and passed some time.
As I was getting ready to leave, I suddenly thought of something.
"Remember that guy we pulled the birthday gift prank on, Bummy or Bumpy or something? Wonder what ever happened to that poor schmuck."
Tammy blinked at me. "I married him. We got five kids."
I was dumbfoundedly silenced.
Tammy shrugged. "Well, I felt so bad, ya know? About how we screwed him with that joke? I had to do somethin', dint I? "

Heh heh heh... she said "screwed."

(inspired by Lee's rendition of all things pranky)

Grumpy Monkey

I am in an official Bad Mood today. Several things have made their way onto the official Bad Mood Inducing List, and are banned until such things can be dealt with in a reasonable, non-destructive-to-the-monitor,-keyboard,-and/or-GM1 manner.
Neighbors, however, are still in season, as always.

1. Politics. Any kind of politics. If I see the words "Kerry", "election", "WMD", or "gerrymander", I can't close that window fast enough. The most overbeaten dead horse in the bloggysphere.
Although I must admit Kerry has one use... he's the cure for constipation, because he aggravates the shit out of me. Ha! Good one, eh? You'd better be laughing, boy.
2. People who use the asterisk to tippy-toe around valid words. F*ck? Sh*t? C*nt? If you're going to have the emotion, please have the balls to express it properly. Bunch of euphemistic ch*ck*nsh*ts.
3. I know you're only 15. I know your mom works during the evening so you feel obligated among your soon-to-be-teenage-pregnancy-statistics wannabe-teenyskank friends to be party central. But if I have to listen to your Girls Gone Wild reenactment one more time, I'm going to reduce your demographic considerably with Mr. Baseball Bat.
Oops. Forgot you're all products of the public school system. Let me rephrase so you can understand: "Turn it down or die." There ya go, sparky.
4. Anyone who thinks they are qualified to tell other bloggers how to blog, what to blog about, or who is a great blogging example. Do I swim in your toilet? No? So don't pee in my pool.
5. Activists. A piece of cardboard on a stick with a rhyme doesn't make you Ghandi.
6. Socks. Particularly the socks that didn't have the good sense not to go on my feet while my toenail polish was wet and are now going to have to be removed with a hammer and chisel. Bad, bad irresponsible socks.
7. People who blame inanimate objects for their stupid mistakes.
8. People who do not send me flowers or expensive jewelry in an effort to coax me from my bad mood.
9. People who make lists like this.

Like Curdled Cream Rising To the Top, So Are the Days of Our Lives

Most distrubing affirmation of affection heard recently:

"They are so cute! They are just so CUTE! I could just rip them in half and suck the bones!"

Cactus Joe and Other Prick-ly Things

Today sucks and it's not even 6:00AM here. I call that efficient.
It sucks for two reasons.

Reason one: It's our anniversary, the GM1 and I. Fifteen years together in a state of matrimonial splendor, as they say on the Lifetime channel. We also have another anniversary, in November, commemorating the day we met, which is coming up on seventeen years ago. And today the GM1 is all the way over in San Diego. The only one who will benefit from this will be the phone company.
We'll celebrate when he gets back, but for now it sucks.

Reason two: Today is our Pre-Inspection prior to moving out. Pre-Inspection is the torture routine where Housing sends the Physical Housing Manager (wonder if there's a Metaphysical one? A guy that come to inspect your aura before you leave, perhaps?) to tell you all the little nitpicky things you have to fix up before the military will "release" you from your assigned Housing. I always get this image of being handcuffed to a mop, with a prison matron standing over me barking orders to swab the deck or NOBODY'S GOIN' NOWHERE.

Our PHM is Cactus Joe. Joe has the reputation of being the biggest jerk anyone has dealt with. Joe is such a royal pain in the ass that the other people in Housing are actively campaigning for him to take early retirement. Everyone I've talked to despises Cactus Joe.

He's called Cactus Joe because he hates "unauthorized" plants or shrubbery in the yards. During one family's check-in, he discovered the previous tenants had left a cactus growing in a corner of the back yard, a nice large one. He went berserk, shrieking about "dirty trash left behind" and ripped it out of the ground with his bare hands and flung it over the fence. Then he danced around screaming at the family to "get the goddamn pricks out" of his hands.

I've had my run-ins with Cactus Joe before. There is a young tree growing just past our fence that developed a severe break in the trunk, from the neighborhood hellions climbing on it. I called Housing to say it needed cut back or whatever tree guys do when trees go bad. They transfered me to Cactus Joe, who stopped me in mid-sentence to snap "I know all about it. It's taken care of." Then he hung up in my ear.

That was in December. The tree droops in three pieces just past the fence. I have several bets out that he'll try to tell me it's my responsibility to take care of it. Sorry, Joe, I have the official word from Housing... it's your baby.

Today is also Kitten Camouflage Day. It's part of CJ's rep that he also hates cats and will try to push through paperwork to make cat owners pay for an exterminator to come dust the house for fleas, even though there are only tile floors and the cat is perfectly clean. He also allegedly rounds up any friendly strays and takes them to the "Humane" Society... which in this area is a strict "kill everything stray" facility. So before he shows up, I have to try to round up all the strays I can and hide them in my neighbor's garage, along with my indoor cat, Squeeks. As far as Cactus Joe knows, there hasn't been a cat in any of his realm since 1976. This is because everyone is in on the concealment procedure.

There are rules that have purpose, there are rules that were made to be broken, and then there's Joe.

He's so lucky it's not a pms day.

And just for fun, I have three friends lined up to come back to my ex-back yard once we move... and plant a huge, nasty cactus. Have fun, Joe.

(previously posted on Blogspot)

Onion

It's all about me, baby.

Ten Layers Of Me
LAYER ONE
-- Name: LeeAnn
-- Birth date: September 6
-- Birthplace: West Virginia
-- Current Location: Pearl Harbor, Hawaii San Diego, California
-- Eye Color: green
-- Hair Color: light brown
-- Height: 5'2"
-- Righty or Lefty: lefty
-- Zodiac Sign: Virgo
LAYER TWO:
-- Your heritage: Irishy, with a splash of Dutch/German. This explains the beer fixation and the anal-retentiveness.
-- The shoes you wore today: ancient black Converse high-tops.
-- Your weakness: cheese, cheese, sushi, cheese. Possibly cheese sushi.
-- Your fears: too damn many to list, but a sampling would include swimming in opaque water, bugs, crowds, boredom......
-- Your perfect pizza: thin crust with mushrooms and jalapenos
-- Goal you'd like to achieve: transform my pudgy self back into the nice size 6 I used to be (and world domination, of course)
LAYER THREE:
-- Your most overused phrase on IM: I don't have IM. I get enough randomization in my social life just living in military housing.
-- Your thoughts first waking up: "What, again?"
-- Your best physical feature: nice chewy bottom lip, and my lovely tattoos.
-- Your most missed memory: If it's a memory, then that means I remember it, right? So if I miss it, that means it's gone so I don't remember it, so it can't be a memory.... Do not fuck me around with this Catch-22 bullshit.
LAYER FOUR:
-- Pepsi or Coke: diet Pepsi, with a shot of citron vodka.
-- McDonald's or Burger King: mmmm, McDonald's, and screw the bad press they've been getting.
-- Single or group dates: neither. The GM1 prefers that I don't date. He's funny that way.
-- Adidas or Nike: Nike for serious workouts, Addidas for retro-style.
-- Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Lipton iced tea, but I make it myself. Canned tea tastes oddly metallic, which I prefer to taste only after blowing robots (just checking to see if anyone's read this far.)
-- Chocolate or vanilla: vanilla, because you can tart it up with chocolate or caramel sauce.
-- Cappuccino or coffee: coffee. Lots and lots of coffee if I'm expected to function and not immediately slaughter innocents when I wake up.
LAYER FIVE:
-- Smoke: Never have. Well, except the illegal kind in high school.
-- Cuss: all the fucking time, you great wanking dickface.
-- Sing: in the car or in the shower, but never where anyone can hear me and report animal cruelty.
-- Take a shower everyday: sometimes twice. Sometimes three times. If I'm short on laundry, I showered fully-dressed. Hooray for efficiency!
-- Do you think you've been in love: many more times than was good for me, except this last one, which is still ongoing.
-- Want to go to college: have gone, on and off. I might like to continue just to finish my degree, but from what I read lately, college professors tend to be overly-liberal, PC nazis who I'd most likely walk out on. Plus, what does it say about the worth of a college diploma if you need one to be a bloody receptionist? What's next, requiring a Ph.D to deliver a pizza? Kind of cheapens it, to make it needed to get a basic entry-level minimum wage job. /rant
-- Like(d) high school: Oh hell no! I was a geek, and worse, a girl geek, which was like having two heads in the 70s. Some of my fondest fantasies are going back to a reunion and doing a Carrie to them.
-- Want to get married: I've done it four times, and only this last time was worth a shit. The first three were complete wastes of skin. I think I fancied myself a matrimonial Mother Theresa.
-- Believe in yourself: see-saw on that one. It often depends on if the day is a good hair day.
-- Get motion sickness: only on boats.
-- Think you're attractive: I don't scare small children (too bad) but I don't make grown men trip over their hard-ons either.
-- Think you're a health freak: I drink light beer, does that count? Oh, and I put the calcium-enriched orange juice in my screwdrivers.
-- Get along with your parent(s): I adore my mother.
-- Like thunderstorms: as long as I don't have to drive in them, yes.
-- Play an instrument: I'd love to play the piano. (I was very tempted to insert a low, gutter-mouthed "skin flute" joke here, but I didn't. Classy points for me!)
LAYER SIX:
In the past month...
-- Drank alcohol: Who do you think you're talking to? Have you never read my blog before?
-- Smoked: no.
-- Done a drug: I went to high school in the 70s. If you didn't partake of something at least once, you were obviously not human. That was pretty much the last time *nostalgic sigh*
-- Made Out: yepper. The GM1 is a great kisser.
-- Gone on a date: We don't have dates. We have "episodes of social wandering".
-- Gone to the mall?: yes
-- Eaten an entire box of Oreos?: no, but I did hoover down an entire container of Pringles.
-- Eaten sushi: as much as I can get.
-- Been on stage: no
-- Been dumped: only by the deity of Common Sense. Don't get me started.
-- Gone skating: I wish.
-- Made homemade cookies: no. I don't cook/bake/prepare if I can avoid it.
-- Gone skinny dipping: does the bathtub count?
-- Dyed your hair: just a tiny bit
-- Stolen anything: I confess... the bank is less a pen because of me. Damn my thieving ways!
-- You sound boring: I prefer "stable". Okay, boring is accurate too.
LAYER SEVEN
Ever...
-- Played a game that required removal of clothing: back in the olden days when removal of my knee socks didn't expose my nipples.
-- If so, was it mixed company: yes, but they were not only mixed, they were mixed up, confused about their sexuality, and decided halfway into the game to go out for pizza and not return. Except for the one who passed out under the beanbag chair.
-- Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: see beanbag chair entry above.
-- Been caught "doing something": amazingly, never. Quite a few near-misses, though.
-- Been called a tease: yes, and damn proud of it.
-- Gotten beaten up: yep. Told you some of my ex-husbands were bastards, didn't I? There you go.
-- Shoplifted: junior high was like a Winona Ryder training film.
-- Changed who you were to fit in: yes, but was aware of it, like putting on a costume and giggling under the mask.
LAYER EIGHT:--
--Age you hope to be married: Oh, for the love of... catch up, people!
-- Numbers and Names of Children: I have had a cat. I have had a lot of cats. Too numerous and flaky to name or number. Now I have goldfish. Frigging pet deposit nazis.
-- Describe your Dream Wedding: any one that didn't involve the first three losers. If I could re-wedding the one I had with the GM1, I'd change quite a few things (venue, reception, guest list, dress) but leave the best part alone (the GM1).
-- How do you want to die: painlessly, in my sleep, after making the Guiness Book of Records for Oldest Person Ever Ever That Wasn't Monkey-butt Senile.
-- Where you want to go to college: somewhere without political correctness or liberal bullshit.
-- What do you want to be when you grow up: day late and a dollar short on that question.
-- What country would you most like to visit: Australia.
Layer Nine -
--Opposite sex (or the same?) both. I'm greedy.
-- Best eye color? brown
-- Best hair color? brown
-- Short or long hair: doesn't matter as long as it's nice and clean.
-- Best Height? medium or shortish
-- Best weight: for me 110 lbs., for a man 160ish
-- Best articles of clothing: jeans. Gotta go with the classics
-- Best first date location: zoo.
-- Best first kiss location: at the front door, after the goodbye and before the "what would you like for breakfast?"
LAYER TEN:
-- Number of drugs taken illegally: I grew up in the 70s. I stopped counting during freshman year.
-- Number of people I could trust with my life: two- the GM1 and my mom.
-- Number of CDs that I own: without an accurate count, about 200.
-- Number of piercings: twelve. (eleven in the ears and one lovely bellybutton ring.)
-- Number of tattoos: ten currently, two more planned.
-- Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper?: a couple of community theater reviews.
-- Number of scars on my body: tons. But as the old saying goes, "Pain heals. Chicks dig scars Glory is forever."
-- Number of things in my past that I regret: did I mention my exes? Let's just say the first 28 years of my life. But oh, the revenge is sweet.

In addition....
FIRSTS:

* FIRST JOB: I babysat the most horrid children in the world, Todd and his baby brother, at age 13.
* FIRST SCREEN NAME: molly
* FIRST SELF-PURCHASED CD: It was actually an album... Goodbye Yellowbrick Road by Elton John.
* FIRST PIERCING/TATTOO: I got my ears pierced when I was 15.
* FIRST ENEMY: Mom's first boyfriend after she got divorced.

LASTS:

* LAST KISS: The GM1, as often as possible.
* LAST LIBRARY BOOK: "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix", last week.
* LAST MOVIE SEEN: "Big Fish"
* LAST BEVERAGE DRANK: Water.
* LAST FOOD CONSUMED: potato bread
* LAST PHONE CALL: My mom called to ask what I thought of the latest episode of "Oz"
* LAST CD PLAYED:"Genius", Warren Zevon
* LAST ANNOYANCE: my stupid printer mangled 4 sheets of the good paper before I could stop it.
* LAST SODA DRINK: Diet Pepsi
* LAST ICE CREAM EATEN: this yummy stuff from Coldstone, all vanilla and honey and cinnamon and caramel.... oh so wonderful.
* LAST TIME SCOLDED: The GM1 scolded me for getting so drunk and taking a walk alone on St. Patrick's Day.
* LAST SHIRT WORN: ancient white sweatshirt

I:

* I AM: a 46 year old woman still growing up.
* I WANT: to lose weight.
* I HAVE: the best husband in existance.
* I WISH: we owned our own home.
* I HATE: most people
* I FEAR: bugs
* I HEAR: traffic on the freeway
* I SEARCH: for reasons
* I WONDER: why religious nuts even bother
* I REGRET: many asskickings I never applied when needed
* I LOVE: the GM1 and my mom.
* I ALWAYS: hate my jobs
* I AM NOT: pretty
* I DANCE: in history
* I SING: in the car
* I CRY: privately

YES OR NO:

* YOU KEEP A DIARY: do blogs count?
* YOU LIKE TO COOK: Sometimes.
* YOU HAVE A SECRET NOT SHARED WITH ANYONE: Yes.

DO YOU:

* HAVE A CRUSH: on the GM1, catch up already.
* WANT TO GET MARRIED: I'm already married.
* GET MOTION SICKNESS: on boats
* THINK YOU'RE A HEALTH FREAK: not a chance
* CURRENT HAIR COLOR: dead mouse brown
* EYE COLOR: Green.
* BIRTHPLACE: Huntington WV

FAVORITES:

* NUMBER: 11
* COLOR: green
* DAY: Thursday (because that's when "Survivor" is on
* MONTH: June
* SONG(S): "Army Song" by Ben Folds Five
* SEASON: Spring
* DRINK: beer

PREFERENCES:

* CUDDLE OR MAKE OUT: both at once
* CHOCOLATE MILK OR HOT CHOCOLATE: chocolate milk
* MILK, DARK, OR WHITE CHOCOLATE: white chocolate.
* VANILLA OR CHOCOLATE: vanilla.

IN THE LAST 24 HOURS, HAVE YOU:

* CRIED: almost, at the sad part of "Tombstone"
* HELPED SOMEONE: helped the GM1 with his resume
* BOUGHT SOMETHING: yep, got some lovely London broil for tomorrow
* GOTTEN SICK: no.
* GONE TO THE MOVIES: no.
* SAID, "I LOVE YOU.": yes.
* WRITTEN A REAL LETTER: yes
* TALKED TO AN EX?: I'd just as soon pull out my tongue than speak to those bastards
* MISSED AN EX?: Not a chance. I have great aim.
* WRITTEN IN A JOURNAL: blog blog bloggity blog
* HAD A SERIOUS TALK: Balls. No way.
* MISSED SOMEONE?: Yes.
* HUGGED SOMEONE?: Yes.
* MADE SOMEONE MOAN: only at a bad joke.

1. What year was the best year of your life?
1988

2. One animal or insect that Noah should have left off the ark?
Every single insect except for ladybugs.

3. Do you make a wish before blowing out your birthday candles?
I wish on everything.

4. Do you generally open your bills on the day that you receive them?
Yeah, just so I can see what I'm throwing away.

5. How many pillows are on your bed?
12, if you count the decorative ones too.

6. Favorite ice cream flavor?
Strawberry.

7. What is the most dominate color in your wardrobe?
White, mostly t-shirts.

8. Have you ever seen a ghost?
No.

9. Would you rather go to a carnival or circus?
Circus. One big travel goal: go see Cirque du Soliel.

10. Favorite meal: breakfast, lunch, or dinner?
Dinner, in a nice restaurant.

11. Your favorite fictional animal?
Flying kittens.

12. Have you ever flown first-class?
No.

13. Would you go on a reality show?
In a heartbeat.

14. Are you more optimistic or pessimistic about the future?
What future?

15. Pancakes or waffles?
Pancakes.

16. If you could own a home anywhere in the world, where would it be?
In a temperate clime, as far away from people as possible.

17. Your favorite Soup of the Day?
French onion or clam chowder.

18. What site is a must see for all visitors to your city?
The Wild Animal Park

19. Can you recommend a good restaurant in your city?
Cheesecake Factory or O-Nami Sushi.

20. You go to the zoo; what is the one animal that you want to see?
Hippos.

21. Potatoes, rice, or pasta: which is your favorite?
Pasta

22. What is the best movie that you've seen this year?
Kill Bill.

23. One of your favorite books when you were a child?
Valley of the Dolls.

24. What in your life are you most grateful for?
My husband.

25. You are home alone and use the bathroom; do you close the door?
No.

26. What is your favorite small appliance?
My coffee machine.

27. Salty snacks or sweet treats?
Salty.

28. Are you usually a little early, a little late, or right on time?
Early.

29. What is the most daring thing that you have ever done?
Drove across country by myself.

30. Have you ever met someone famous?
Yes, I met the lead singer of Dr. Hook, and Shelby, an actor with Sound and Fury.

31. What was one of your favorite games as a child?
Hide and Fuck Off.

32. At what age have you looked your best?
31.

33. One person that never fails to make you laugh?
Dave Barry.

34. What was the first music that you ever bought?
"Goodbye Yellow Brick Road".

35. If you could change one thing about your family life when you were a child, what would it be?
I wish my natural father had died a painful death and left my mom a fortune so she wouldn't have to remarry if she didn't want to.

36. What is the one thing that you cook that always receives compliments?
Spaghetti.

37. From what news source do you receive the bulk of your news?
Internet.

38. In the last calendar year, how many people have you told that you love them?
Two.

39. Who received your first kiss?
Some kid in second grade named Blacky, who promptly punched me in the face.

40. The single most important quality in a mate?
Loyalty.

41. What do you value most in a relationship?
Security.

42. Do you believe that you have a soulmate? If yes, have you already met?
Yep, married to him right now.

43. Do you consider yourself well organized?
Overly.

44. On average, how many times a day do you look at yourself in the mirror?
Maybe four.

45. Did you ever make a prank phone call?
Oh yeah.

46. What one quality do you seek in a friend?
Ability to respect borders.

47. Have you ever killed an animal?
Yes.

48. When you were twelve years old, what did you want to be when you grew up?
A stewardess.

49. Do you believe in an afterlife?
Of course not.

50. What would you like to accomplish with the remaining years of your life?
Immortality.

And here are 15 more questions:

1. What is the "theme" on your calendar this year?
Random pictures, since I print my own on a weekly basis.

2. Do you read the newspaper every day?
No.

3. What kind of shoes are you wearing right now?
Barefoot.

4. What magazines do you subscribe to?
Entertainment Weekly, Dragon, Allure.

5. What is your favorite condiment?
Mustard.

6. What was the first occupation you remember wanting to have?
I said stewardess, weren't you listening?

7. Do you have a green thumb?
I kill plants with a mere thought.

8. Did you have an imaginary friend when you were little?
Yes.

9. Do you floss regularly?
No, it gags me.

10. If you could still hang posters of celebrities on your walls and get away with it like when you were 12, who would be on your walls right now?
Tom Hanks and Angelina Jolie

11. Do you keep shoe boxes or throw them away?
Throw them away.

12. Would you be embarrassed if someone looked under your bed?
No. All they'd find is my gun.

13. If you could be one character in a book, who would you be?
Molly from "Neuromancer" by William Gibson.

14. What do you sleep in?
Victoria's Secret pajamas

15. What is your favourite word?
Fuck, or bugger.

The ABC List
A - Act your age? I wouldn't begin to know how. Women my age are a mystery and bewilderment to me. I don't think we have much mutual context.

B - Born on what day of the week? I think it was a Friday, September 6, 1957.
On a tangent, I hesitated to put the facts here, and then realized if someone really wants to go to the trouble to find out who The Cheesemistress is, there were plenty of clues. Not like I'm worth the security seal on my FBI file, you know?

C - Chore you hate? Stupidly, it's emptying the dishwasher and putting the dishes away, knowing that in less than a day it will have to happen all over again.

D - Dad's name? Ronald Lee L*****, may he rot in hell.

E- Essential makeup item? Mascara. Oh, and eye shadow. And liner. Don't forget a nice tinted moisturizer. And some pretty lip gloss. Oh, must powder down a bit too.
I love Sepphora, I truly do.

F - Favorite actor? My idol is Tom Hanks, but right now I love watching Brad Pitt.

G - Gold or silver? Must I choose?

H – Hometown? Well, born in Huntington, West Virginia, grew up in nearby Ceredo and Barboursville, but home is where the heart is, which means home is where the GM1 is, which right now means San Diego.
I fucking hate small towns.

I - Instruments you play? Not a damn one. I'm too uncoordinated.

J - Job title? Food Service Clerk, a.k.a. the Betrayer of Rules, the Fairy Floss Floozie, and She-Who-Loathes-Tourists.

K - Kids? A gorgeous daughter, Kelly, age 28.

L - Living arrangements? A reasonably nice two bedroom apartment in southern San Diego, in a neighborhood full of idiots, assholes, and lunatics, all of whom have car alarms from hell and no idea of the concept of "turn it the fuck DOWN!"
Yeah, I hate it here.

M - Mom's name? Judith.

N - Need... To get over the urge to kill my neighbors and coworkers, as it's not only time-consuming to do so but the subsequent paperwork might just be the death of me too.

O - Overnight hospital stays? Tons. I am a professional klutz.

P - Phobias? Bugs. The best way, btw, to alienate yourself in my affections is to not take this seriously and try to "have fun" by putting bugs near or on me.
I will kill you.

Q - Quote you like? "The Fear had two parts. Number one, you have lost control absolutely. Number two, having done so, the real you emerges, and you won't like it." - Tom Maddox, "Snake Eyes"

R - Religious affiliation? Atheist. Seriously anti-religion. Nothing fucks up the world worse than actions stemming from a belief in some imaginary power figure.

S - Siblings? One brother.
T - Time you wake up? 4 bloody goddamn 30 in the cocksucking AM. Can you tell I just love it?

U - Unique talent? Finding the funny in almost everything.

V - Vegetable you refuse to eat? Kale. Oh my dog, nasty nasty nasty.

W - Worst habit? Not being able to tell anyone off unless I am nearly uncontrollably angry, when coherence is unfortunately at the low point.
I have constant wit of the staircase syndrome.

X - X-rays you've had? Gallons. I glow in the dark now.

Y - Yummy food you make? Lasagna. And appletinis.

Z - Zodiac Sign? Virgo. Pure as the driven slush.

For and Against
Right now, in both the bloggy and the real worlds, there seems to be a lot of side-taking. A lot of "here is where I stand" ism. A lot of position-punditry.
I have the reputation of being the lighter side, the frivilous one. The lampshade-wearer who will happily go along and not make waves.
The time has come for me to take my stand and make my sticking point and say my piece. My two cents worth. My side.
And as always, if you don't like it... bugger off.

I am FOR:
personal responsibility
the death penalty
abortion ON DEMAND
stronger and more aggresive border controls
immediate execution of terrorists, foreign and domestic
immediate castration without anesthetic for rapist
strictly enforced licensing required to be a parent

I am AGAINST:
religion
jesus freaks
the ACLU
PETA
any rights or benefits for illegal aliens
the cult of the child
breastfeeding in public
censorship
frivilous lawsuits
prudish "Britney is the downfall of civilization" type blogs
liberals
tree-huggers

(1. previously posted on Blogspot)(2. updated March 2004) (3 and 4 added May 2004)(ABC List added June 2004)(for and against added July 2004)