I Love Halloween

I know some say that their dogs are like furry little people. I feel that way about my cats. Each and every time tonight when kids have knocked at the door, Barbie has gotten up with one or both of us. It's her job to supervise while we pass out the candy. A few minutes ago a tiny little princess said "I like your kitty cat." As if on cue Barbie hissed at her and puffed up like a blowfish. Because Barbie is completely black and doesn't hide her hatred for children, I'm surprised that little girl didn't wet her costume.

I visited Beverly's class full of special children today. We had a great time and everyone was on their best behavior. I almost didn't believe her when she told me that after I left one of the kids said to her "kiss my asshole bitch!"

Something Is Wrong With Me Part 68

Since I am always on a quest to make life more difficult than it has to be, there are no jack-o-lanterns in this house. No. I own more than one pattern book and every Halloween I pull them out so I can create a masterpiece. I will say that it's totally worth it because we had the best pumpkin in the neighborhood last year.

This morning I started to carve this beauty after I talked Joe down from a "challenging" pattern to an easy one. It turns out I can't even do the easy ones. Since I don't think like an engineer, I carved the entire head part, and then Joe said "that's going to make carving the face part harder." I honestly don't realize these things until it's too late. I cut off the nose completely and this is one photogenic pumpkin because you can't tell it's the grim reaper in person. It kind of reminds me of Michael Jackson the more I look at it.

Instead of scrapping the whole pumpkin idea, I went back out and bought a new one. Does this count as wasting food? I talked Joe into carving it because I can't trust myself with the knife anymore.

In other news, I'm finished with my Christmas shopping just like I said I would be. You can talk about me and call me a bitch and I'll still be finished with my Christmas shopping. It somehow makes up for the Wacko Jacko lantern. Oh, that was bad.

Snow White

This is the only reason I want a dog.

And Another Reason Why You Shouldn't Eat in Front of the TV

On Survivor someone just said "I have open and festering sores on my arm." And they showed his arm and he did. And then I was finished with dinner.

Too Tired to Write a Wednesday Story

But I will say that if you don't read this book, we can't be friends anymore.

Ask and Ye Shall Receive

This past weekend I was feeling uninspired and thought that I’d lost my writing mojo forever. Well, I have been bombarded with news this week and it’s only Tuesday.

Did anyone hear about that kid who found the razor blade in his chicken sandwich in his high school cafeteria? Since he wasn’t hurt I blew it off because I am more concerned with other news, like who stole Britney’s baby pictures. I found out today that THIS HAPPENED AT MY HIGH SCHOOL. I am not kidding. I haven’t done a full investigation yet, but it sounds like the razor blade was inserted after the chicken left the factory. If they are trying to frame one of my lunch ladies I’m going to go down there and kick someone’s ass because nobody makes better yeast rolls and garlic bread than my lunch ladies. If the maker of the baked goods is in prison, then the kids I babysat for will only have taco boats to look forward to. Whatever the hell those are. The children need the bread, it’s part of the whole high school experience. So I say suck it up kid. Who hasn’t found something random in their food? Yours just happened to be dangerous and newsworthy.

While we’re on the subject of high school: There was this girl who graduated two years before me. I didn’t know her, but that’s completely irrelevant to the story. This girl ditched college to become a model in the modeling metropolis of Orlando, FL. Christine and I have been tracking her “career” for years so that if she ever becomes the next supermodel, we could say that we went to school with someone famous. God, we sound like such losers when I see this in writing. Anyway, we have seen her pictures in Seventeen magazine, sales flyers, a Caboodles ad, and I’ll be damned if she wasn’t in a Subway commercial. Apparently she is now a French Pop star with a hit single. When news of this makes it across the Atlantic and she's on a VH1 special, we are going to blow this shit up (the words of Christine and I couldn’t have said it better.) I want to be the person who sends in the yearbook photos and tells VH1 all about the Podunk town she came from but won’t claim. I also want to tell them her real age because it’s not very common to start your new pop career at age 34. I’ll bet she’s shaved off at least 8 years. I am so excited I could burst.

Thirdly, though I don’t know if that’s a word, I graduated with another girl who I actually used to be friends with, but now not so much. She apparently hates us all and her mom has put the call block on the reunion committee so we can’t contact her. She is proof that anyone can be found through the glorious workings of the internet. She’s going to be sorry that she ever became a lawyer because now her profile is on her firm’s website with a picture and everything. She’s also going to be sorry that her office is in my sister’s neighborhood because now I’m going to hand deliver her reunion invitation. Boo ya!

I should probably quit caffeine again.

Stuff That Couldn't Wait For Tomorrow

1. I am enthralled with the idea that Janet Jackson has a secret daughter. It's so Flowers in the Attic or something. There is a serious flaw in this rumor though that I think even the most common of idiots could figure out:

18 Secret love child's age.
+18 Age Janet was when said love child was born
___
36

39 = Janet's current age. Are my math skills that bad? Also the source of all this info is someone named Young DeBarge of the musical DeBarge family. I don't know how much credibility a man named Young has.

2. When did Angelina Jolie become America's sweetheart? I will shamefully admit that I watched her E! True Hollywood Story this weekend and I was reminded of why everyone thought she was such a weirdo. Remember the vials of blood and finding Billy Bob Thornton attractive and french kissing her brother and wrecking all those homes? Now she's so wonderful because she's so beautiful and sexy and she adopted disadvantaged kids and does so much work with the U.N. blah blah blah. I never knew that 3 years of humanitarian work could erase your past and make you the best person on earth.

3. I need someone to stage an intervention ASAP because I can't stop downloading music from iTunes. I'm rediscovering all this old music from days gone by. If I had to listen to one song over and over until the end of time it would be "Live Forever" by Oasis. I love this song so much that I would play it at my funeral if it wasn't so godamned ironic. I really have to go to work now.

Damn Oprah & Damn Her Book Club

By the time I finished reading A Million Little Pieces by James Frey, I was pretty attached to the characters. Actually it's a true story - are they still called characters? Anyway, I immediately had to get My Friend Leonard which picks up where the other book leaves off. It is so much better, I don't know if it's because his writing has improved, or if it's just more interesting. I do know that I was up until 2:00 this morning because I couldn't put it down. I forced myself to stop reading, then I couldn't fall asleep because I was worried about all of the characters even though I know what happens to everyone. I may call in sick today so I can finish it.

I am Uninspired Lately

Today is the first day since April that we have turned off the air conditioner. Yay!

Last week Joe bought a pet door so we could keep the litter box in the garage. I took one look at it and knew that the cats would only get their heads through it. I had to go back to Petsmart to exchange the door and the next biggest size was made for dogs. I can't continue to call them big boned, fluffy, etc. and sound believable.

He Hated His Life at That Moment

My sister got married a few years ago and it was a joyous affair. Despite being sunburned to a crisp, my dad is beaming in all the pictures, especially the ones where he is walking her down the aisle. A friend of mine even commented about how proud he looked.

In all of my wedding pictures where he is walking me down the aisle, his face looks like this. When I saw these I was all "What the hell? This is total bullshit and he obviously loves Bridget way more than me."

I later found out that when he picked up his tuxedo, he tried on everything but the shoes. The shoes ended up being 2 sizes too small! Ha ha ha! He was in tremendous pain all day. I can forgive him for the lack of smiling if he can forgive me for still laughing about it.

People Who Annoy Me and Why

1. Sandra Lee: because she pronounces it “strawburries.”
2. Kirsten Dunst: because of her teeth and voice.
3. Dominic Monaghan: because of his teeth and voice.
4. Rachael Ray: I don’t think this one needs an explanation, but reasons include wearing great big bands of orange eye shadow, and using words like “yummo.” Did you know that she’s going to be Oprah’s new Nate Berkus? That makes me sick.
5. Katie Holmes: because she bites her tongue when she smiles. I tried it, it doesn’t feel natural, AND it hurts. I’m not ready to talk about her pregnancy yet, but I just watched Batman Returns and she can’t act for shit.
6. Tara Reid: because she’s too old for this behavior, and she’s an embarrassment to the human race.
7. Nicole Richie: because she has done everything in her power to not look like she’s mulatto.
8. Peter Sarsgaard: because he is creepy in a “put the lotion in the basket” kind of way. I hate his voice and I just saw Kinsey and he was completely naked and he kissed Liam Neeson. For a long time. It made me uncomfortable. (I hate explaining my references, but the above is from Silence of the Lambs, duh).
9. Maggie Gyllenhaal: because there’s something wrong with her nose/mouth area and she dates #8.
10. Me: because I can only think of lists with odd numbers.

Wednesday Story

Once upon a time I was a senior in high school. I had fulfilled most of my required courses, so I was able to take a host of easy “blow off” classes. So easy that my dad would ask me at night “How were Paper Mache and Sandbox today?” These classes included Study Hall, Yearbook, Remedial Math for Dummies, Student Government, and Introduction to Art. Now an outsider might ask “how the hell do you take Student Government as a class?” And the answer would be the same as for “how the hell do you take Yearbook as a class?” Answer: someone brilliant came up with this idea so we wouldn’t have to stay after school to be in these clubs. We got credits to graduate and passes to get out of school early to eat at Subway, er I mean sell Yearbook ads. I love that person wherever they are. But back to Introduction to Art which is what today’s story is about. No Alicia, this isn’t the story about the time I spilled yellow tempera paint all over myself and had to change into a dirty, wrinkled t-shirt and shorts that were in my trunk, and wear them all day when it was around 50 degrees outside. This story is the one where we had to draw self portraits. This was a freshman level class. I consider myself crafty, but not so talented in the drawing and painting department, so I was getting by. I wasn’t going to win any prizes, but I would probably pull off a B. Fortunately Alicia sat next to me and we made jokes and sang songs about art, and didn’t really give a shit how the class went because we were bound for Community College, and we felt like Mr. Beckett was pretty lucky that we even came to class that day. So about the self portraits. This was done by holding a compact mirror in one hand and drawing a picture of your face with the other hand. I swear to God I think I could have taken A.P. Chemistry and had an easier assignment. One morning we were sitting around waiting for Mr. Beckett to pass out the unfinished portraits and I saw that mine was on top. Since our table was closest to his desk I heard him say “Who is that?” when he picked mine up. His face turned red when he realized I had just heard him, and my face turned red because I couldn’t even do the work of a freshman. I failed to capture my essence on paper in even a marginally recognizable way. The sad thing is that I thought it looked just like me. That was probably the day I decided I would major in Liberal Arts when I got to Community College, because I already knew math was out, and I obviously had no future in Fine Arts either.

The End.

I Later Learned That They Were Supposed to Last for 40,000 Miles

Do you know what it feels like to go to your local Saturn dealership with the intent to pick up a side view mirror, get your oil changed and tires rotated, and come out two hours later having spent more than $400? It feels a little like wanting to cry or wanting to laugh hysterically until you cry. I’m short of breath and my knees are a little weak as well. My friend Laurie in the service department advised me that I needed new tires, which was true since I had never replaced them. My style of car maintenance is no maintenance with the occasional oil change thrown in to keep my dad off my back. I said to Laurie “Look, I’m getting rid of this car as soon as humanly possible, so just slap on the cheapest tires you have and align it so I don’t have to get new tires again for another 26,000 miles.” Laurie knows me well, and knows how much I hate my car so she said “Good enough” and let me get back to watching Judge Alex and drinking bad coffee in the lounge.

Pimp My Mouth

If you were given the choice between a gold tooth crown or a white one, which would you choose? Me too.

Gold would not work for several equally important reasons:

1. I'm more of a silver/white gold kind of a girl.
2. I'd worry that it would set off metal detectors in airports.
3. I'd be afraid of getting my ass beaten by a defensive minority here in the racist deep south.
4. I like to have the option of removing my bling to say shower or sleep or swim, and I think this would be more of a permanent situation.


**Unrelated - Saturn only charges assholes who break their sideview mirrors $22.00 to replace the glass!**

Suckers!

I love me: I just sold a used, scratched LG cell phone without a SIM card for $42.35 on eBay. Holy crap. This was the worst cell phone I ever had and I know I got it for free when I renewed my cingular contract.

I hate me: When I was driving earlier I almost turned onto one road, and then I decided at the last minute to take another road. I had to veer back into my lane and I clipped one of those round orange barricades with my sideview mirror. I expected to knock it over, but the motherfucker didn't even budge. I think it was filled with cement, but it was probably just water. When I looked over to assess the damage I saw that I knocked out the glass portion of my sideview mirror. I guess it's better than having knocked off the entire sideview mirror thingy, but I still don't know how to explain it to the Saturn parts department.

I love me: I only spent $26.00 at the Mary Kay party because it was a social obligation.

I hate me: I booked my own Mary Kay party because it was a social obligation.

Saturdays Aren't Always Fun

Today we had our 3rd yard sale of the year. I abhor having yard sales. Our development organizes these every six months or so and we take full advantage because we don't have to put up signs or pay for an ad in the paper. We seem to have 1/4 of our garage designated to house our yard sale shit, but no matter how I try the pile never gets any smaller. You would really want to come to one of my sales. If I get too hot, cold, bored, or tired, my already low prices are slashed drastically. Nine West purse for a quarter? Take it. Three dollars for an entertainment center? It's yours. I was out there for about 4 hours, am completely exhausted, and made about $7.43. But I'll do it again in six months, just you watch.

We live on a small retention pond, and while it's quite pretty I have nightmares about the snakes. Namely the WATER MOCCASINS. When Joe mows the lawn he picks up the snake skins he finds to show me later. I get to see just how big the snakes in the backyard are. He guesses at the variety and I'm pretty sure that he passes off the ones he knows to be moccasins as "just a grass snake" because it's embarrassing to have your wife wear wading boots when she feeds the geese or has people over for a cookout. In our side yard we have a wooden arbor over which flowers and vines grow. I walk under this arbor approximately 2-3 times a week to put something in the trash cans. Today Joe found a snake skin in the fucking arbor literally 6 inches from where my head passes. Harmless grass snake or not, I am waging a full scale campain to move the hell out of this house. I know there are snakes everywhere, but I don't need them taunting me so blatantly. It's like they can smell my fear. We're going to have to revisit this division of labor deal because I won't be taking out anymore trash again, hip waders or not.

I am about to eat a white trash lunch of fried bologna sandwiches (my first in 25 years) and Cheetos, then I get to go to a Mary Kay party. You know you wish you had my life.

Grouchy Friday

I don't understand when the U.S. Post Office turned into a retail enterprise. For some reason I thought they were the only game in town. It reminds me of how the yellow pages advertises on billboards. It's so unnecessary. In the olden days people used to be able to walk in, mail their crap and then leave. I don't know if the employees at my post office are on commission, are competing to win a Carnival Cruise, or if they just like to annoy the shit out of me. When Joe and I came up with the division of labor (Oh God, that's a total a Dr. Phil term) he got all the picking up and mailing of the mail. I am so thankful for this. I will scrub toilets on my knees with my bare hands for the rest of my life to avoid this scenario again:

Would you like insurance or delivery confirmation? No thank you.
Would you like to upgrade this to Priority for 21.50? No.
Would you like any stamps today? NO.
Would you like a commemorative plush animal? They make great Christmas gifts. NO!
Would you like to pay with your debit card? NOOOOO!
Would you like a car wash and oil change? Can I please go home now? Don't follow me out to my car either!

Not A Lot Surprises Me Anymore

The other night I had dinner with Beverly and enough alcohol was consumed that we thought it would be fun to go to the um, adult novelty store next door. I won’t go into detail about seeing things that I was never meant to see, and whose images are now burned into my brain forever. Screw it, I have to tell you about the sex swing that was suspended from something that was as large as an outdoor swing set frame. We stood in front of it for several minutes while we discussed where one would hide this thing if they ever had company over. There was a sign posted at the register that said “We will not accept hurricane relief cards as payment.” I couldn’t resist asking the clerk if someone had actually tried that. She said “Yeah, someone wanted to buy a couple of movies. I guess food and shelter weren’t very high on his list of priorities.”

Wednesday Story

Once upon a time, my Dad and I went to my Great Aunt Mary’s memorial service in South Carolina. The service was held in the courtyard in front of her house, and then the reception was held inside. Well, Aunt Mary had a groovy sunken living room with maybe a six inch drop. One of her very old friends—she had to be in her 80’s—came in the house and walked into the living room. She didn’t realize that there was a step down and she fell over in slow motion like a tree. It happened so quickly that she didn’t even have time to put out her arms to break her fall. My Dad is one of those people who are great in an emergency situation. He literally ran across the room and tried to catch her, that’s how quickly his mind works in a crisis. She immediately got up and said in a tough old broad’s voice “I’m fine, I’m fine.” {Now, if she had gotten injured I would never have written this story. I’m not that evil. I may have already reserved my place in hell, but it’s not because of what happened that day.} As soon as the lady got up and we knew she was alright, my Dad’s eyes met mine across the crowded room and we both burst into hysterical laughter. I always knew that I laughed when people got hurt or fell down—I even laughed once when I backed into my brother-in-law’s car—but I didn’t know that this was an inherited trait. Believe me when I say that we were the only two people in the room with red faces and convulsing bodies. We had to get it together, and fast. I spent the rest of the loooong afternoon looking out the window laughing, walking around outside laughing, spending large amounts of time locked in the bathroom laughing, avoiding eye contact with my father, and hissing at him to get the hell away from me every time he walked up. This was the only way I could make it through the rest of the day.

I am a psychologist for fuck’s sake, so I understand that we only had this reaction because we were relieved. What I don’t understand is why I still can’t talk about that day without tears streaming down my face even though it occurred more than six years ago.

The End

I Can't Think of a Title About Poop

Do you hate your job? I just overheard two nurses talking about one of my clients. It went a little something like this:

Nurse #1: How was so and so's stool today?
Nurse #2: Medium amount, soft texture, light color.

I definitely won't have to take a Dexatrim today to curb my appetite. I may be good for a few days after hearing that.

Awhile ago we adopted 3 Canada Geese who would visit the pond in our back yard. Yeah, we threw them stale bread and may have even named them. Two years later I am now buying 20 lb. bags of cracked corn from Petsmart each week and the number of geese has topped out at 16. I happen to love the geese as they are very beautiful, have noticeable personality traits, and the cats enjoy watching them through the window. I'm pretty sure that my neighbors hate the geese because they eat lawns and then poop (small amount, slimy texture, green color) all over patios and driveways. I'm pretty sure that the neighbors hate me too. It could be that I feed the geese, or it could be that I'm compelled to sing "Jimmy Crack Corn and I Don't Care" while I do it.

Very Wordy Tidbits

Ooh! Two posts with Oprah references in one day. Aren't you lucky? It was so adorable to watch Ricky Martin pretend to be straight today while singing a duet about a woman with a woman.

I've been reading A Million Little Pieces by James Frey and it just got interesting 2/3 of the way in. Now I am rationing it because I don't want it to end. Am I the only one who does that?

Onto Breaking Bonaduce. Danny, Danny, Danny. How I wish I worked for child protective services so that I could remove your children from your crazy ass and that of your enabling wife. My favorite scene in the movie Mr. Mom is when Michael Keaton drives his son to school and goes in the wrong entrance and his son says "You're doing it wrong." Then he finally gets up to the school and one of the other moms says "You're doing it wrong." You would really have to see the movie to understand how funny it is. Anyway, Mr. Bonadumbshit tried to kill himself this week by slitting his wrists horizontally in the style of an adolescent crying out for help. There is not one thing funny about suicide, but I'm pretty sure I yelled at the TV "YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!" at least once. Thank God he didn't show any impressionable suicidal people the proper way to slit one's wrists. He is an attention-seeking idiot and I'm surprised he's lived this long. I cannot believe that he actually signed the release forms to have this show aired after some of the embarrassing behaviors he displayed. That check from VH1 must have been huge.

I made a wonderful discovery yesterday. I always thought that Proactiv stuff was a bunch of hooey, plus it has like 16 steps and I just can't be bothered. Especially if it cuts into my sitting on the couch time. Well I tried the mask and my skin has never looked better. It is smooth and has been cleansed of all impurities. I can't believe I'm in love with a product that Jessica Simpson hawks. I won't even sample her Desserts line because I wouldn't want to tempt myself.

I've been watching Supernanny lately out of sheer desperation. I also like to see how much of her advice is based in behavior modification. What a nerd I am. Supernanny Jo speaks in a very thick British accent and likes to say "That's what I'm talking about!" repeatedly. Um, I'm pretty sure that my friend Bucky made up that expression back in 1997 and it was never meant to be said in a British accent. It was already overused by the time it made it halfway around the world.

Tonight Joe had a work meeting and said he wouldn't be home until late. When I got home I stripped off my work pants and started to make a pot roast. He just walked in an hour ahead of schedule and I said "See what happens when you come home early? Dinner's not ready and I'm in my underwear."

Don't you want to come over? I think Supernanny is on tonight and we'll be eating pot roast at approximately 9:00 p.m.

Two Things I Forgot

So last time I was shopping I thought it would be interesting to buy some boy cut panties to try out. I understand that I am no Gisele Bundchen, but these make white cotton granny panties look sexy. I tried to sleep in a pair last night and I kept waking up to rearrange them because they would slip down and/or give me a wedgie. I'm glad I bought 3 pairs though--and ripped off the tags--because you know it's so silly to only buy one item if you're just trying it out and not really sure if you'll like it. Do you think my consignment shop would take them?

Did anyone see Oprah last week when she had Sarah Jessica Parker on? Sarah became very excited at some point and accidently kicked her stilleto heel into the audience. She probably put someone's eye out, but both she and Oprah acted as if nothing ever happened. I dare say that Oprah was even angry, her face was that stony. How do you do that? I would have had to end the interview and reschedule due to the fact that I couldn't stop laughing.

I am dying to discuss Breaking Bonaduce with you all, but I'll have to do it later.

I am Freaking Out Somewhat

I awoke this morning to read that 30,000 are expected dead from that earthquake and that 1.9 million Americans are supposed to die from the bird flu. I have this flaw in my personality that allows me to believe everything I see/read/hear is true. I also found this morning's updates at Post Secret to be especially depressing.

In superficial news--which I prefer--I loved that Napoleon Dynamite hosted Saturday Night Live last night. He is so cute despite the fact that he has the hair cut of an elementary school kid in the 1970's. I've seen that in more than one place. When did this become fashionable? The new cast members are great, I just wish Tina Fey would come back from maternity leave because I can tell the difference in the writing. It is definitely lacking and about as funny as learning that you will probably die from the bird flu within the next year. Is it evil that I secretly wished Ashlee Simpson would mess up her performance AGAIN? I may need to get a life.

Earlier this week, I called my friend Tina while she was ordering lunch in the Burger King drive thru with her 19-year-old daughter in the car. The following exchange took place in about 10 seconds while she was simultaneously talking to me on the phone:

Daughter: I'll have a hamburger with ketchup and no pickles.
Tina: Give her a number 4 with blah blah blah.
Daughter: With extra mayonnaise
Tina: Girl, you don't need any extra mayonnaise. (to the speaker) Don't put any mayonnaise on that.
Daughter: Don't tell me what I can eat (to the speaker) Put mayonnaise on it!
Tina: I'll tell you what you can eat!
Tina: (to the speaker) Don't put any mayonnaise on that. And that will be all ma'am, Thank you.
Drive Thru Lady: I can't even hear you.
Me: Laughter
Tina: What's so funny?

I Learned Things This Week

1. I burst into tears at the sound and sight of a marching band in a homecoming parade. I don't even remember liking high school that much.
2. If I ever become independently wealthy I will hire a professional to wash my hair each day. This is by far my favorite part of getting my hair did. I won't use that expression about it being "better than sex," but just know that I have a special place in my heart for my hairdresser.
3. Nip/Tuck actually made me blush this week. The sex scenes are so graphic. I would expect this from a movie or Cinemax, but this is prime time television.
4. The bird flu has made it onto my list of random things to worry about.
5. There was an American Express ad in one of my magazines that featured a lesbian couple. It was like "I'm the impulse buyer and she's the coupon clipper. Is there a card that can work for both of us?" Go ahead with your progressive-thinking selves American Express ad people. I'm impressed.
7. I taught myself how to link to other pages. Expect the sun to rise in the west tomorrow.

Dearest Skipper,

Enough with the hairballs already. You eat hairball control food, you eat hairball control treats, you live in air conditioned comfort 24 hours a day, and it’s not even summertime. There is no excuse for this. I could handle it if they were tidy cylinders of hair that didn’t leave a mark on the floor, but yours are always accompanied by vomit. Large amounts of vomit. And why always on the carpet and never on the linoleum? Could you give me a break once in awhile? Most childless people don’t have to buy an industrial grade steam cleaner, and if they do they certainly don’t have to use it every three days like at our house. Most cats are not given the nickname “Barf” by their father either. I won’t shave you at this point, but I make no promises about next year. I stick up for you each time someone calls you fat, could you help me out here?

I Still Love You,
Mom

Two Additional Reasons Why I Need to Move ASAP

I have listened to the same morning radio show for the past 12 years. Lex and Terry originated here and have apparently blown up and are now syndicated all over the country. Good for them, but bad for me. Recently they accepted a contract with Clear Channel Radio which owns half the universe from what I can tell. Because of some "no compete clause" in this contract they can't broadcast here until at least next February. That leaves me with a very wholesome show on a station I'm pretty sure is owned or at least governed by the First Baptist Church. The second option is MJ in the Morning who is such a moron that he actually said that he needed to shake something "like a Polaroid picture" this morning. I thought DJ's were supposed to be up on current music, but he is approximately two years behind what is "hip" if he is still using that quote. I would even warmly welcome the ostracized and unemployed Bubba The Love Sponge at this point.

I have been meaning to take a picture of this for months so someone else could share in my pain, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. There is a psychiatrist here who specializes in detox or whatever. He's the type of medical professional whose website address is written on the side of his brand new Hummer that Medicaid probably paid for. He has a huge billboard with his picture on it and it says "Did Oxycontin Hijack Your Life?" "Rush" right in. Don't be in "Limbo." I suppose he is referring to that time Rush LIMBAUGH went into rehab. I think he needs to spend part of that Hummer payment on an advertising professional. I want to throw rotten eggs and bags of shit at this sign, but I haven't gotten around to that either.

Wednesday Story

Once upon a time a little over ten years ago, my BFF Christine and I were students of sorts at UNF. I awoke on the morning of my birthday and grudgingly walked to class as always, or as seldom if we’re being honest. As I walked I noticed that a certain anonymous someone had written messages in colored chalk on the sidewalks from my apartment to all of my classes, in the courtyard, in front of the bookstore, etc., etc., etc. Phrases included “Today is Cory S_____’s 22nd birthday.” “Happy Birthday Cory S_____,” and my personal favorite: “My name is Cory S_____, spank me - it’s my birthday.” We attended quite a small school, so the humiliation factor was amplified a wee bit. Most of these messages eventually washed away with the rain, but you can bet that there were still some intact and legible for the rest of the school year.

Several months after that fateful birthday, my Aunt Nancy was on some church trip in Vero Beach, FL (3 hours away) and met a family whose son also happened to go to UNF. When she found this out, she said “Oh, my niece goes there too. Her name is Cory S_____. Do you know her?” He replied “Today is Cory S_____’s 22nd birthday.”

Every part of this story is true. I thank you once again Christine.

The End.

Guess What This Post is About

Contrary to what you may think, I am not a prescription drug addict. What I am is a big fat baby with an incredibly low tolerance for pain. I don't even like putting chemicals in my body, unless they are of the bourbon variety of course.

This morning I called my doctor's office because I needed a refill of my allergy medication. I told the receptionist the dosage, etc. and which pharmacy to call. She said "Do you have the number?" I said "No, I'm kind of driving right now." She was sitting at her desk with a phone book and an internet connection six inches from her hands, but it was my responsibility to call her back with the number. I have been in this office quite a bit and I have never seen any of the seven receptionists do very much other than gossip and eat the free food brought in by the drug reps. This bitch is so lazy that she makes me look like Martha Stewart.

The root canal was a snap, with two exceptions. The first was that God awful novacaine shot to the place where my jaw bends. Whose idea was that? The dentist also had a technique I had never witnessed before where he pinched my cheek and moved it back and forth to spread the novacaine. Whatever works. The second was the fact that he would not prescribe me anything for pain. He suggested that I take Alleve or Advil. Look buddy, I'm surprised that Alleve is still even on the market, AND Advil doesn't taste like candy for no reason. It was made for someone who could endure a Brazilian bikini wax, not for someone like me who cries when they get a papercut.

I have to go now because Can't Buy Me Love is on. Remember that movie? The fact that it was released 18 years ago is causing me a pain much greater than anything even Percocet could relieve.

You Can Never Go Home Again

I grew up in the tiniest of towns. There were actually three tiny towns in the county, and they all shared one elementary, middle, and high school, so it felt more like one slightly less tiny town. It was impossible to swing a cat without hitting 3 people you knew. This once tiny place is now the fastest growing county in the United States, with statistics to prove it and everything. Most of this growth took place after I left almost 11 years ago.

On my way to Ft. Lauderdale last week, I decided I would drive through and look at all the changes. I’d heard that a second high school opened this year and I had to see it to believe it. Growing up I never paid attention to street names specifically, and I always found my way around the Lilliputian community by memory and landmarks. To get to Christine’s you turned right immediately after the middle school. To get to a cul-de-sac where we did a lot of underage drinking, you turned left at the BP station. Well I’ll be damned if the BP station hasn’t been knocked down and replaced with a huge Home Depot. I drove around as if I were a visitor to the town for the first time. Nothing looked familiar – roads replaced woods, restaurants replaced woods, and there are now 3 Beall’s department stores, when one was really one too many to begin with.

I drove in the direction where I’d been told the new high school was. I got a little sentimental in the process. I cried one tear because although I have my memories, this is no longer the place where I grew up. I cried another tear for my friend Dean whom I had not seen in more than 12 years, but who had died a couple weeks before. I cried one last tear because I got so lost that I never did find the new fucking high school.

I Could Puke

For reasons I can't explain, I read an interview with Courtney Love today. She claimed that Nirvana's "Heart Shaped Box" was written about her "vagina." While I commend her for not using a more vulgar word--as I would have expected from her--life will never be the same for me again.

Don't Worry, The Mom Was Fine

I really made a mistake by pinning all my hopes on this Fall's new TV season. I have been nothing but bored, perplexed, and disappointed. Allow me to illustrate:

My Fair Brady - This show is an embarrassing account of the love affair between Adrianne Curry and Peter Brady who met on The Surreal Life. I don't like to think about other couples in bed, together in the bathtub, wearing lingerie, beating each other in dominatrix fashion, etc. This show has not only made me think about it, but see it and a whole lot more. Eew. Dysfunctional love at its best with lots of sex talk and burping.

Lost - What the hell is going on here? Last season was absolutely riveting because things happened very slowly and the writers always left us begging for more. I hadn't felt this way about a show since Melrose Place started to get really dirty (remember when Kimberly survived the car crash and pulled off her pretty red wig to expose a huge scar? Aah, the good old days.) This season so much is happening that I can't keep up, plus so much of the same background is being given, probably to catch up the newcomers. But why do the rest of us who have watched from day one have to suffer? Again I'm bored, perplexed, and I may have stopped caring what happens to any of them.

The Amazing Race - I hate when they make things family editions. This is the exact reason why Trading Spaces lost its appeal. I don't expect nearly as much swearing or fighting if a bunch of kids are running around. People are actually going to have to monitor what they say and do. Boring.

Alias - Those motherfuckers just killed off Vaughn! I can't speak about this any further.

Survivor - I am only watching this because I read that this season in Guatemala will be the hardest yet. I think they say that every year, but I'm not impressed. My problem is that I can't learn the contestants' names or faces until the last few episodes, then nothing really matters and I wish I could go back and watch the whole thing over so everything will make sense. The only interesting things that have happened so far are that several people almost died from dehydration (I wonder just how much brain damage Mark Burnett would let someone get before he let medical personnel step in?), there is a man named Bobby Jon, and there are these monkeys who live in the trees that do nothing but shriek continuously. No one can sleep and it's hilarious in a sick and twisted way, which is how I like it.

Martha Stewart The Apprentice - First of all, Martha's daughter is a serious sell out. For the past 15 years I have always heard that they didn't get along, Martha was emotionally abusive, yada yada yada. Well Alexis or whatever her name is, is now her right hand man. What happened here? Martha was supposed to be softened by prison, but she still scares the shit out of me. The old her keeps rising to the top despite her best efforts. For example: at last week's meeting, one girl said "I am so embarrassed in front of you right now that I could cry." Martha said "You cry and you're out of here! Women in business don't cry!" Meow.

As I was writing this I was watching a taped episode of The Amazing Race. In a challenge one person had to pull an Amish buggy as if he/she were a horse, one had to push from behind, and two had to ride inside. One family's buggy started rolling down a hill and the brakes didn't work. The mom who was acting as the horse got run over. I'm back in baby! If inflection could be conveyed through the written word, that would have just been screamed in George Costanza's voice.


P.S. If "motherfuckers" pops up while you are spellchecking, the only alternative suggested is "motorbikes." I did not know that (said in Jerry Seinfeld's voice).