Hibernation: A state of inactivity in an animal brought about by short day lengths, cold temperatures and limitations of food.

After several days’ worth of additional thought, I’ve decided to go on an extended blog hiatus, rather than shut the whole thing down. I really do enjoy blogging but as of recent months not as much as I’d like.

I’ll hopefully be back in the Spring rejuvenated, well-rested and my batteries will be resnarked.

Be good while I’m gone. Remember, no wild parties. Your aunt’s phone number is on the counter in case of emergency.

If you live someplace where it gets cold in the winter, I’m sure you’ve been inundated with all of the news stories talking about heating costs this winter rising anywhere from 40-70%. Everyone knows you should lower your thermostat to a chilly 68 degrees, but there’s even more you can do to save your sanity and your vacation fund in the upcoming months.

In light of it being 31 degrees here at my house right now (thank God I remembered to turn the sprinklers off last night) and with respectful deference to my checking account, I give you Snarkwife’s Tips To Reduce Your Heating Bill This Winter:

I remember back in my single days, people used to pester me about buying a house. I guess they thought a 27-year old woman shouldn’t be living in an apartment, throwing away her hard-earned cash on rent when she could be throwing it away on lawnmowers and air conditioning filters and homeowner’s insurance.

“You don’t need a husband to buy a house,” was an unsolicited comment I used to get a lot, which was funny. They were right, I didn’t need a husband…but I wanted one. Could I have afforded a mortgage? Probably, but geez, I didn’t want to take care of the maintenance and upkeep all by myself.

And now, here I am…maintaining and keeping up the house all by myself. Now to be fair, I’m not slaving away all day. I have someone who comes in and cleans every two weeks and someone who mows the yard but sheesh, that’s the easy stuff. The tougher things include washing the windows…and trimming trees and clearing out the weeds that thrive in hot Texas heat. Don’t forget about going to Lowe’s to buy a masonry bit so I can drill a hole in our brick exterior to mount a bracket and hang an American flag.

But on the flip side, I get to plant jasmine bushes out front and buy patio furniture and sip a glass of wine on my back deck after a tough day at work.

So, it’s all good.

So I went to Lowe’s this morning to get a masonry drill bit. I walk in with my anchor, so I can get the right drill bit, and walk up to this decrepit old man wearing a Lowe’s name tag in the Tools section.

Snarky: Hi! I need some help. I’m looking for a masonry drill bit that will drill a hole to fit this anchor. {shows him the anchor}
Decrepit Old Man: Do you have a drill?
Snarky: {pause} Um, yes. Why would I ask for a drill bit if I didn’t have a drill?
Decrepit Old Man: {pause} Right over here.

I guess I should be grateful he didn’t call me “little lady.” I can’t help but be amused at the fact that had Capt. UberHusband gone in and made the same statement, he wouldn’t have been asked if he had a drill.

I’m just sayin’.

p>I was walking through the living room a few minutes ago, and caught this exchange from the 2002 episode of ER (Prime time in the daytime! On TNT!) titled, “Brothers and Sisters.”

It just struck me as amusing…wouldn’t this have made a fabulous prime time mad lib?

{Dr. Romano is following Dr. Weaver with a study in his hand, flipping the pages back and forth.}

Dr. Romano: Did you know, that lesbians have a higher risk of breast, cervical and ovarian cancers because they are less likely to have children by age 30, if at all?

Dr. Kerry “Lesbian” Weaver: Is that so.
Dr. Romano: Yeah! Lesbians are less likely to seek health care because of discomfort of “coming out” to health care providers.
Kerry: Why are you telling me this?

Dr. Romano: LESbians are also less likely to get routine gynecological services, which means later detection of these cancers.
Kerry: Robert.
Dr. Romano: Huh?
Kerry: Do you have to keep saying that?

Dr. Romano: What, lesbians? I’m just reading what it says. {flipping pages}
Kerry: Don’t.
Dr. Romano: I can’t help it. Kerry…this gets me excited…you wanna know why? Because this…smells like money. Your sisters are under-serviced, and we can fix that.

I was reading a post Becky wrote yesterday about “quenching your soul’s thirst” and, when combined with an email my dad sent me last night asking if I thought most bloggers were cranky and angry and miserable, it prompted me to post my own Soul-Thirst-Quenching list.

Because sometimes, you need to talk about the good.
# Looking at my countdown clock each day and realizing the number really does keep going down, whether I believe it or not.
# Talking to my mom, and knowing I can totally be myself with her.
# The quiet, cool stillness of the morning before the sun comes up.
# Watching The Simpsons and King Of The Hill.
# Successfully accomplishing a task that Capt. UberHusband would have done, if he were here.
# Creating something, whether it be crocheting an afghan or making a scrapbook although, Evil PMS Bunny wasn’t that thirst-quenching.
# Picking and eating a homegrown tomato, right off the vine.
# Going to the first movie showing on a Sunday morning.
# Playing ball with Daisy…because she’d do it for an hour if I’d let her.
# When Cookie comes up to me with her ball and drops it in front of me, ready to play.
# Hugs from Capt. UberHusband. Even virtual ones will work.

What quenches your soul’s thirst?

From President Bush’s speech tonight:

Some Americans ask me, if completing the mission is so important, why don’t you send more troops? If our commanders on the ground say we need more troops, I will send them. But our commanders tell me they have the number of troops they need to do their job. Sending more Americans would undermine our strategy of encouraging Iraqis to take the lead in this fight.

Well then. Damn good thing we’re sending Capt. UberHusband over in two weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I support my husband and I support what he’s doing and his commitment to the U.S. Army.

However…it does irritate me to hear things like this. Of course, I could always do the glass-half-full thing and imagine the commanders, reclining back in their chairs after hearing Capt. UberHusband had been reactivated and saying…”Aha. That’s all we needed. Now we’re done.” {patriotic music swells in the background}

Time to go to bed. I’m sure I’ll be up early tomorrow.

My bladder and my dogs woke me up bright and early at 5:30 this morning, but that’s not a bad thing. Especially during these inferno-like Texas summers, I try to enjoy the 75-degree low temperature whenever I can get it.

Seeing’s as I was up and at ‘em, I figured I’d drive down to Starbucks and pick me up a nonfat latte and a cinnamon chip scone. Then I drove home. As I was rounding the corner on the main “thoroughfare” before reaching my street…driving at the speed limit of 30 MPH, I just about ran over Betty and Wilma, “jogging” through the neighborhood.

Now, I’ve almost run over Betty and Wilma before. They like to “jog” in the middle of the road, facing oncoming traffic…either right before sunrise or just after sunset, generally wearing dark clothes and clueless looks on their faces.

Now, I’m all for exercise. God knows I could probably stand to spend some extra time in my running shoes but, in the middle of the road? When it’s dark outside?

It’s no big secret that over the last couple of months, I’ve developed a serious dislike for Tom Cruise. He used to be so hot and so cute and so…so. Now though, blech.

This weekend, Capt. UberHusband and I were watching Tom belittle Matt Lauer in a rebroadcast of that horrific interview regarding Brooke Shields, antidepressants and the science of psychiatry as little more than legalized witchcraft. Ironic, since we were about to go see Bewitched, starring the ex-Mrs. Tom Cruise.

We’ve all seen the interview, so I won’t go into the play-by-play, but I just have to ask…Tom…when exactly did you have the time to become the All-Knowing God Of All Things Psychiatric, when it’s pretty obvious all you’ve been doing for the last few months is, well, Katie? Download a lot of books to your iPod?

And…Tom used the word “glib.” I laughed out loud when I heard that. “Oh Matt, you’re so glib.”

Excuse me…I need to go take my meds.

p>Sandy wanted to see more doggie pictures…so here you go…LOL!

Unfortunately, Daisy had her ears down and looked all sad and depressed all weekend so I couldn’t get anything good of her. I’ll need to talk to her about that.

Clickify the pictures to see the full glory of Frick and Frack. I can’t believe Cookie is going to be nine years old in just four short months.

Wow, the last three days sure did go by fast. Capt. UberHusband has departed the Big D and is heading to Fort Benning, Georgia where he’ll complete his training before heading over to Iraq.

And here I am…stuck at home…picking up the pieces. Literally. I didn’t realize how clean the house stayed with just one person in it until there was someone else around…LOL.

On that note, I’m going to clean up the house, watch a little Law & Order: Sport Utility Vehicle and try to keep Daisy from hiding under the bed.

So, I was surfing around the internet looking for t-shirts or mugs or something that showed my pride as an Army wife. I found a few things but most of the items…well, they weren’t me. I’m not a roses ‘n schlock kind of girl so I thought to myself, “Hey self, instead of complaining you can’t find anything…why don’t you make something?”

So I did.

Check out my new Proud Army Wife store at CafePress.

Nothing of real significance happened except…Snarky started her blog!

I laugh when I look back at earlier posts, because they’re not very funny and you can really tell that I’m just starting out. I hadn’t found my niche yet. We all had to crawl before we walked though, right?

I’m working on a post highlighting some of my favorite posts over the past year…will have that up later today.

And…today’s mad libber is MIA. I’ve been trying to contact him/her for his/her list of words. If it’s you, you’ll know…I sent you an email telling you today was your day.

And oh yeah, this weekend was great. Had a superfantabulous time. I’m incredibly tired. Augusta is a 2-hour drive out of Atlanta so if you take the hour it takes to get to the airport, add on airport and flight time and a 2-hour drive…I was tired on Friday. Reverse it and you get yesterday…LOL.

But…the best news…Capt. UberHusband gets to come home Thursday night before heading to his final U.S. destination on Sunday for two weeks before heading over to the sandbox.

Yay! Happy Monday!

I ate two of the cookies last night…that seemed to quiet the sugary little monsters…overnight, at least. This morning though, they’re at it again…”Snarrrrrrrrky…cooooookies…it’s what’s for breakfast!”

Wait…should I be concerned that my food is starting to talk to me?

I’m taking some of the cookies to Capt. UberHusband and am also taking one of Audrey’s tomato offspring. No fair that he planted her back in April and doesn’t get to reap the benefits, right? Speaking of which, I made pasta pomodoro last night with the tomatoes and was all in a tizzy because I didn’t have any parmesan cheese. Can’t have pasta pomodoro without parmesan cheese, right?

Didn’t need it…and the tomatoes were so good. I can’t tell you. Tonight I’m making a tomato, basil & mozzerella salad. With the bumper crop of tomatoes I appear to be in for this summer, it looks like it’s time to invite Ali and her sangria over for salsa and chit-chat.

Well, Capt. UberHusband got his “orders” yesterday afternoon. I put “orders” in “quotation marks” because these “orders” could theoretically change at any time “per the needs of the Army” so, although we are preparing for this to be his official “assignment,” it won’t be “official” until he touches “ground”.

As expected, he’s going to Iraq. Fun. For twelve months. Good thing he’s lived through six Texas summers, eh?

I can’t say any more about it, because I think he’d have to kill me. Or, all of you. He can’t kill the weeds in our front yard, our lawn service already did that.

Sorry ’bout the post title, couldn’t come up with anything better that wouldn’t be schlocky, schmaltzy or schad. But let me tell you, I am going to create some kick ass care packages.

My housekeeper and the company’s office manager gave me a very nice card today, thanking me for my business and telling me that if I needed anything during Capt. UberHusband’s deployment, to give them a call…they have tons of contacts who apparently can do everything from weed my flower beds to raze my house.

It was a very kind and considerate gesture…I’m so accustomed to people being assholes (except for you fine folk, my family, a few close friends and my housekeeper), that it’s tough for me to accept graciousness. But, I think I did it without looking like too much of a heel. I’m learning.

Anyway, they also gave me a beautifully wrapped gift…I opened it up and…it’s cookies. Chocolate chip cookies. I haven’t had cookies in the house in months.

Now, they’re just sitting there, calling my name. Listen. Do you hear them? It’s a little muffled through the plastic wrap…”Snarrrrrrrrrrrrrrky…you know you want to sit down and eat all of us in one shot. You know you want it.”

Damn cookies.

Capt. UberHusband and I had a date today. We went and saw Cinderella Man. He saw it at 11:45 a.m. EDT and I saw it at 11:05 a.m. CDT. Then, we got on the phone afterwards to discuss.

Now, I just don’t get why people aren’t going to see this movie. If you’re avoiding it because you think Russell Crowe is a jerk, get over yourself and go watch him do what he does best…act. He’s amazing. Just like with what he did for A Beautiful Mind and Gladiator, he took his character, boxing legend Jim Braddock…and became him.

It was a mesmerizing and unbelievably riveting film. I cried when Jim Braddock’s family didn’t have enough money to pay their electric bill during the depths of the Depression. I cried when he told his daughter that he’d had a dream about steaks and mashed potatoes and that he was stuffed, so could she finish his breakfast? I cried when he had no choice but to go to the government for assistance and I cried when he paid the $368 back.

I cheered when he kicked Max Baer’s arrogant ass in the ring and became the heavyweight champion.

I don’t recommend taking the kids to see Cinderella Man, because the movie is very violent…I have a tough time watching boxing, real or fictional. But then again, some movies are made for adults and all you adults out there…you should go see it. I hate to use that tired cliche of it being a movie about the triumph of the human spirit, but it was.

And Paul Giamatti…he was amazing…one of the best supporting performances I think I’ve ever seen.

I think the funniest part of the movie was the woman behind me who apparently wasn’t up to speed on Jim Braddock’s story because, when he took a fairly nasty punch part-way through his bout with Baer, she said, “Well, that’s the end of his boxing career.” {snicker}

Can’t wait for next weekend, when Mr. and Mrs. UberHusband get to go see Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

I went out earlier this morning to Starbucks and picked up a nonfat latte and a cinnamon chip scone. On the way home, I spied a couple on a tandem bicycle-built-for-two and thought, “Oh, how cool! How fun they can bike together!”

Then, I got a little closer and spied something truly tragic…the woman was listening to an iPod. The man was not.

I mean, what’s the freaking point? Why ride a tandem bike if you’re not going to communicate with your co-rider?

My mom and I watched the first half of Hell’s Kitchen last night, the new Fox “reality show” from the think tank that brought you Joe Millionaire 2.

Remember The Restaurant, the show that chronicled Celebuchef Rocco DiSpirito’s efforts to open up a new swank eatery in New York City? I watched it, and I know a lot of others did until Rocco turned Culinary Diva and ruined everything. Anyhoo, what I was hoping Hell’s Kitchen would have done was something along the lines of The Restaurant, only taking real chefs and having them compete for the responsibility of running the restaurant. That would have been cool…something like Cooking School on TLC was, only not so TLC-y.

Oh no. No no no no no. Gordon Ramsay is an ass. Some folks find him funny…and entertaining…an “edgier” Simon Cowell who’s got skillz. No no no no no. Gordon’s a jerk. Now granted, I’ve made some very bad food in my life but I seriously doubt any of it really tasted like donkey poop. Come on Gordo, get over yourself.

I found him, quite honestly, to be obnoxious and annoying. At this stage of the com-pe-ti-tion I don’t mind sarcastic, edgy, in-your-face personalities but it’s a real turnoff when I feel like they’re talking just to hear the sounds of their own voices.

Here’s an idea Gordo…swap casts with Dance With The Stars so we can watch Trista Sutter make her special Absolut Bachelorette Penne.

And…ladies out there who are moms…why would you name your son Dewberry?

Alrighty.

Capt. UberHusband has been gone for nine days, and I successfully made it through the holiday weekend with my sanity intact courtesy of my mom, who is trekking back up to New York today.

I’m likening my experiences to that of my husband. He’s got his first two weeks of mobilization and in-processing and refresher training…and so do I. The only difference is, he’s reacquainting himself with weapons, formations and iffy food and I’m reacquainting myself with our sprinkler system, sleeping in the middle of the bed and cooking for one.

This week, Capt. UberHusband continues what is called Common Task Training. I too, will get back into the swing of things. I’ve had my week of sloth and my week of gluttony…now it’s back to the gym and back to the lower-carb lifestyle that honestly, does make me feel physically better.

Baby steps…that’s what everyone keeps telling me. Once CTT is complete, both Capt. UberHusband and I will go through refresher training for our Military Occupational Specialties for 2-3 weeks.

Mine will include, but will not be limited to:

• Advanced Lawn & Garden Care
• Basic Household Repair
• Walking The Dogs Twice A Day
• Tivo DVD Authoring
• Care Package Creation
• and recently added, Increased Communication With Spouse’s Civilian Employer

Phase three, of course, is deployment. We take what we’ve learned and head off to complete our mission.

Alrighty.

3So, I found something to do while Capt. UberHusband is off playing Army.

What a hook though…Army wife, husband has been deployed…looking to find her “inner strength” and try to win a million bucks along the way? It would be great…under my name in interviews it would say “Army Wife/Project Manager/Snark.”

Heh. You know, I think I could hack just about anything they could throw my way except for the eating challenges…I just can’t do those.

Stacy said @ 5:02 pm

My mom’s flying in today to hang out with me for the holiday weekend. I just couldn’t hack spending a 3-day weekend (believe it or not, they are different from my work days) on my own yet…you know how it is. I love seeing my mom but get a sneaking suspicion she’s more excited to see Cookie & Daisy…LOL.

And…Capt. UberHusband is “off” from around 2 p.m. today until Monday afternoon. Figures. We talked briefly about how I could have flown out and spent the weekend with him but, even if my mom wasn’t coming…I don’t think I could do another goodbye again…not yet.

Anyhoo, a few people have asked how Capt. UberHusband is doing, since he hasn’t updated his blog (”I haven’t had anything to talk about.”) in a few weeks. He said he was going to try to find internet access somewhere in the next couple of days and update everyone as to his goings-on and reintroduction to All Things Army.

He’s fine. He’s tired. After three days of “in-processing” (Army code for: shots, dental exams, payroll setup and other miscellaneous sitting around and waiting), they finally started their training and various classes yesterday…just in time for the 3-day weekend. Um…er…okay.

He says the toughest thing so far (other than getting up at ungodly hours of the very early morning) is that a couple of the guys in his barracks snore really loudly. We live in a home of silence at night. Cookie’s started to snore a bit in her advancing age, but she’s not a chainsawer. He says he’s met some great people, has seen some people he doesn’t want anywhere near a gun and is very happy he brought his iPod. The only other thing he wishes he’d brought was our little hand-held television since the one TV in the day room was commandeered for basketball games all week.

I’ve talked to him every day in the evenings and it sounds like he’s getting back into the groove of Army life. The tough part for me…I have no idea what that means. I’m accustomed to being in tune with every aspect of his life and this, this is all new to me and I can’t even guess as to what he’s experiencing.

Here’s the Ironic Thing Of The Week…a Captain from HRC in St. Louis called Thursday night and asked to talk to Capt. UberHusband. The first thing I thought was, “You don’t know he’s not here?” The Army isn’t omniscient although, you’d think they would be. Anyway, she wanted to talk to him about his commission resignation, which he mailed off the day after we got his orders; a sort of last-ditch attempt to avoid mobilization. We didn’t think it would work but hey, we were operating at a rather low frequency that first week.

I told her that Capt. UberHusband was at Fort Jackson, and had been for the last week. Didn’t she know that? “Oh, you mean he’s already been mobilized?” Envision me slapping the palm of my hand up against my forehead. Capt. Omniscient wanted to let us know that his commission was signed and could go into effect as soon as he was demobilized. Super. Thanks for calling.

Oh wait…the ironic part. Capt. Omniscient didn’t seem to know the current status of my husband, yet yesterday in the mail he got an invitation from the Veterans of Foreign Wars to join their esteemed ranks. Cripes people, the guy hasn’t even left the continental United States yet and you’re trying to get your claws into him? Thanks U.S. Army, for selling his soul to the mass-mail-marketing devil. The VFW knows he’s been mobilized, how come you don’t?

But, Mom’s plane lands in 3 1/2 hours so I’d better finish vacuuming and get myself into the shower.

Because I know none of you got any sleep last night (like me), wondering what the fate was of my little Compaq Presario…LOL.

I successfully reformatted the hard drive, reinstalled Windows XP and effectively erased the last 3 1/2 years from it’s memory. Along with the formatting went our Microsoft Money file, 3 GB of photos and all of my home emails from Outlook.

This morning, after a solid six hours of sleep, I have a new…er…outlook on the situation and am actually grateful for the opportunity to scrape the hard drive clean. Most of the emails I didn’t need, I had old applications that just refused to uninstall, and I really enjoyed talking to the guy at Symantec today, who told me where I could re-download Norton Internet Security since I just upgraded it last month. He almost spoke passable English! I am hoping the folks at Intuit are as amenable when I try to re-download It’s Deductible.

Microsoft Money was the least of my worries, but the greatest for Capt. UberHusband. I was able to reinstall Money and download transactions for the last nine months from most of our financial institutions. I didn’t realize just how much money we were spending until I had to reconcile over a thousand transactions. Zoiks.

As for the pictures, 99% of them are uploaded to Ofoto so if I get an urgent need for electronic copies of the pictures, I can always order an archive CD from them.

The emails…well, here’s the funny thing about those. I have Outlook set up on my work laptop to also download my home emails during the day in case I can’t get over to the home PC…so anything critical over the last 5 or 6 months (it’s my work computer, I delete nothing), I was able to send back over to the home PC. I just realized that about ten minutes ago.

This is just so funny…I swear to God I was going to back everything up today. Well, guess I can cross that task off my list since at this point, there isn’t much to backup. Except…all the various application install files and Microsoft Money, and those files are safely tucked away on my thumb drive.

And can I tell you…that little PC is full of vim and vigor this morning! I just need to add another 256 MB of SDRAM and it’ll purr like a kitten.

{{deep cleansing breath}}

Time for coffee!

To: Whatever dumbass decided to ring my doorbell at 8:56 p.m. last night
From: Snarky

RE: Do that again and so help me, I’ll overseed your lawn. Birds lurrrrrrrrve overseeded lawns.

I’d like to thank you for ringing my doorbell last night, right as Ryan Seacrest was saying, “And…the winner…of American Idol…is…” GAH! You IDIOT! I was flipping back and forth between that and the painfully intense last couple of minutes of Lost and…you ring my doorbell?

Probably to the average schmo, this is not a big deal except (1) it was nearly 9 p.m., (2) my porch lights weren’t on so I sure as Hell wasn’t going to open my door anyway and, (3) ringing doorbells flip out Cookie and Daisy.

When the doorbell rings, I rarely have enough time to get to Cookie because somehow she goes from sound asleep on the couch to throwing herself at the door in literally, one leap. Pretty good for a blind dog. By the time things settled down, I noticed quite a bit of blood on the tile in our foyer, in front of the door.

Cookie must have caught her paw on something because she cut herself and, after trying to diagnose which dog was bleeding (and checking my own paws) and noticing she was the only one licking her paw, figured it was her. She’s fine, though. Thanks for asking. Nothing some tummy scratches and a few treats couldn’t fix.

I Tivo’d Lost so I was able to watch the end of that, but I won’t ever get back the American Idol moment I lost you stole from me. Plus, the whole incident just startled and scared me.

Thanks a lot. Happy Thursday to you.

I must be really dense…like flourless chocolate cake…to have never ever thought that “the boy” could be Walt.

Before I was so rudely interrupted at 8:56 p.m., I was transfixed…glued to my television wondering what the hoopla “in the last five minutes” would be about. I read that Lost was going to have one humdinger of a cliffhanger, and they most definitely did not disappoint.

But, after The Professor exploded trying to secure and transport the unstable dynamite at the beginning of the show I thought, “Man, this can’t get any better. That’s a fitting end to the season, and I am satisfied. How long until The Amber Frey Story?”

For me, it’s the subtle things about this show that just wring me up and toss me aside…like the final scene (with that damn score…can someone compose sadder music?), when they’re all boarding the plane, not even realizing they were coming into contact with people they’d have to share their lives with and…hide their secrets.

I was a wreck. Worse than Danielle, if you can believe it.

And Hurley…ironic that the one lucky thing that happens to him ends up being the least lucky…or so you would think.

So, what’s in the hatch? My guess is Bahston Rahb & Ambuh…and the two of them will let everyone know at the beginning of next season that they’ve all been taking part in a Big Brother-esque reality show, slated to be on CBS’s Fall schedule for the 2006-2007 season! We’ll spend the rest of Season Two watching Rahb & Ambuh try to save their hides running from the new “others” while SuperNanny Jo counsels Michael on how if he had only been a more involved father (Hey…what was up with the “This wasn’t in the plan” comment to his mom on the phone), Captain Ahab wouldn’t have stolen his kid and headed off to a perfect storm. I keep thinking now there has to be some sort of additional relevance to the “Beyond The Sea” song.

Mmm hmm. It’s going to be a long summer. But…heh heh…I have convinced my mom to start watching the reruns of Lost over the summer, pulling her deeper into my evil web of television. Mwa ha ha…

Well, the second unbearably annoying thing since Capt. UberHusband left has happened…our desktop PC went kaplooey tonight.

I’ve been down this road before…and 100% of the time I wound up having to reformat the hard drive, reinstall Windows and lose everything I hadn’t backed up.

Ha…here’s the funny thing…we got our new DVD burner a week ago, and one of the reasons we got that was so I could start backing everything up more often. That was on my “to do” list for tomorrow…back up our Microsoft Money file, the 3 GB of photos we had and the hundreds of emails I had in Outlook.

What a mess.

God bless Capt. UberHusband, who stayed on the phone with me for an hour while I tried to troubleshoot and did everything short of taking our PC in someplace and having them charge me $100 to tell me that I needed to reformat my hard drive and reinstall Windows. Ultimately, I did just that…and now our PC is wonkier than it was when we started.

But, it may just be time for a new PC. Ours is, after all, a curmudgeonly 3 1/2 years old. Thank God I have this laptop…and while I’m thinking about it…I’m going to go backup some of my work files.

I called Cingular yesterday afternoon and told them I was Capt. UberHusband and wanted to add my wife as an authorized user to her cell phone account.

Three times the customer service rep asked me what my name was.

“Capt. UberHusband.”

“No, not the name on the account…your name.”

“Capt. UberHusband. CAP-TAIN OOOOOOBERHUSBAND.”

I guess I sound girlier on the phone than I thought.

The third time she asked me what my name was, she actually called me ma’am to which I responded, “I’m not a ma’am. Now, is there a problem with adding my wife to this account?”

It took the rep an extraordinarily long time to complete the transaction and I felt a slight twinge of guilt. When I talked to Capt. UberHusband last night, I asked him to call Cingular and verify that the deed had been done. So much for being all edgy and tough.

Message received when I tried to unsubscribe from an email newsletter today:

Are you sure you want to unsubscribe from the InterVideo newsletter?

The newsletter is our way of alerting you to special deals and new InterVideo products–so that you will know about it before everybody else does. Besides, if you unsubscribe we will be very sad and we will probably mope around the office for several days, unable to eat or sleep. But if you truly must go, you are always welcome back.

Oh no InterVideo…don’t you dare try to guilt me like that! But then again…geez…I don’t want you mad at me…or disappointed in me. Maybe I didn’t put enough effort into our relationship. Maybe I could have smiled more and nagged less…maybe we could give this thing one more try…

Eh, screw it. Unsubscribe me.

The yokel at our local Cingular store told me at lunch that they can’t add authorized users at the stores and that I’d have to call Customer Service to take care of my request. I stopped short of asking Mr. Yokel if I was supposed to wave my power of attorney in front of the phone and have it magically appear in front of whomever I spoke with.

This is insane.

I turned around and left. I’ll just call them later and tell them I’m Capt. UberHusband. I tried to do things the “right” way but…Cingular…you have backed me into a corner and given me no choice.

Or…I could just have Capt. UberHusband call them during his 7 minutes of free time.

“Snarky, let me introduce you to something. Now, I know it can’t take the place of Capt. UberHusband, but it will most definitely take up some of your free time and prevent you from doing a dorky Army-themed scrapbook you and Dell keep joking about. It’s called…Tivo2Go. Now, go sit down and get to know each other.”

Oh. My. God. Can I tell you how awesome this is? We unloaded DirectTV and are now just going with Plain Old Cable…but we bought a new Tivo box that supports Tivo2Go, which basically allows me to download shows from our Tivo to either of our computers since everything is networked together.

Now, it’s not a quick process. I transferred Desperate Housewives and Grey’s Anatomy and it took about three hours. But hey…it’s all in how much you value your television programming.

The best part? I can burn the shows that I download to DVD. We decided to get this Tivo box and a new rewritable DVD drive because I couldn’t bear the thought of Capt. UberHusband going for more than a day overseas without having access to his favorite television shows (yes, we’ll be getting him a laptop…please don’t steal it). VHS tapes are antiquated, bulky and don’t really fit into the standard laptop CD-ROM/DVD drive, so we thought we’d pull ourselves into the current millenium.

And…there you have it. You’ve got a couple of options with how to handle the “burning.” You can either burn the shows to DVD and have them show up with a menu and all that, but there’s this thing called transcoding that, for two hours of programming, literally takes nine hours from start to finish. The downside is, obviously, that it takes ten times longer to process than to actually watch, but the upside is you can watch the shows in any DVD player.

The other option is to just transfer the raw files over to the DVD as data files and watch them from a laptop. You’ll need the Tivo Desktop or a special codec (I think) to view the files but, therein lies the beauty of portability. I can take my laptop to the pool and watch 30 Minute Meals…or out in the backyard…or on an airplane!

{{demonic giggles}}

This is almost better than the whole power of attorney thing!

Anyhoo…I didn’t get a specific request for Bahston Rahb & Ambuh Of Da Smokin’ Ass Get Hitched, but I’ve got Tivo cranked up to tape the season finale of Lost tomorrow night and then…that’s about it until this Fall.

Oh no…what am I going to watch?

LIGHT-SABRE DUEL PUTS TWO IN HOSPITAL

Two Star Wars fans are in a critical condition in hospital after duelling with lightsabres made by filling fluorescent light tubes with petrol.

The pair - a man aged 20 and a girl of 17 - are believed to have been filming a mock fight when one of the devices exploded in woodland on Sunday.

They were rushed to West Herts Hospital before being transferred to the specialist burns unit at Broomfield Hospital, Chelmsford, in Essex.

Police say a third person present at the incident was questioned.

I’m guessing that third person wasn’t Obi-Wan Kenobi.

season finale
color on wisteria?
sold house over phone

air hockey stud tom
quit his job, back to work, wife!
good luck there, buddy

ice hockey freak zach
felicia’s whack to the head
pulls gun on susan

in a strange script twist
what in the hell, rex is dead?
creepy george to blame!

well-polished silver
must finish the task at hand
devastated bree

poker to the head
kitchen knife to the stomach
oh, mary alice

lawn boy tells carlos
carlos needs impulse control
can carlos breast feed?

dierdre had a child?
mike got all the scoop from paul
don’t go in the house!

Yay. Yay. Yay. I wonder if the folks who camp out for Ikea openings are like the dorks who camp out for Star Wars movies…only blonder and more efficient.

From the Dallas Morning News:

Swedish home furnishings chain Ikea finally has a Frisco opening date: August 3.

Known for its cult-like customer following and cheap chic prices for its do-it-yourself furnishings, Ikea’s openings attract large crowds and some diehards even camp out to be among the first inside the mammoth blue and yellow two-story building.

In fact, the chain always opens on a Wednesday so as not to compete with weekend shopping.

The chain’s second Texas store is located at the corner of State Highway 121 and the Dallas North Tollway.

The popular retailer has kept the date a secret until now not just to create buzz, but also because the size of the project (it’s twice as big as a Wal-Mart Supercenter), and huge amounts of product coming from overseas factories, makes the date a moving target.

Hiring and training of almost 500 people is underway. It takes that many people to run the 310,000-square-foot store featuring 52 room settings, four model homes, a supervised play area and a 300-seat restaurant.

There are 22 Ikea stores in the U.S., including one in Houston. Overall, there are 210 stores in 33 countries.

Anyone else watching The Oprah Winfrey Show today? Tom Cruise is on and he will not freaking shut up about how wonky-nutso-psycho in love he is with Katie Holmes.

I’m all for love. I lurves me a good romantic relationship but…Tom…didja have to jump up and down on Oprah’s couches like a monkey and grind around on her carpet like a ferret to get the point across that you’re really excited about this new relationship?

I’m not exaggerating. He’s also got his 50,000-watt smile cranked up so high that my face hurt watching him. All I needed was for him to thank God for bringing him Katie and point up at the sky a’la Scott Savol.

Katie…girlfriend…when we were younger those kinds of public declarations of affection would (or should) have caused us to run screaming for the dorm room door. Same rules apply when you’re 26.

Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy.

And…if I hear Mr. Cruise refer to Ms. Holmes as “my woman” one more time… I’m going to hurl.

I watched Nick & Jessica’s Tour of Duty tonight and cried the whole time. Seeing all those soldiers in Iraq…the well wishes…it was so heartbreaking…

…listening to Jessica Simpson sing live.

I was completely and utterly broken up while she was singing “God Bless America”, but don’t think it was for the reasons she intended.

I called Cingular this morning, because the bill for my phone was supposed to cut about a week ago, but I still cannot see the bill online. I had some problems downloading ringtones last month and was told…when I called Cingular last month…to call back after May 19 and they’d apply the appropriate credits.

So, I get on the phone to call Cingular and am bluntly told that since I am not listed as an authorized user on the account (the account is under Capt. UberHusband’s name), they can’t help me with billing issues or pretty much anything else. They can answer “generic questions” (like what, “How do I make a call?”), but that’s about it.

I told Mr. Blunt that I called in last month and no one seemed to care that I was Mrs. Capt. UberHusband and not Capt. UberHusband to which he says…kid you not…”I don’t see any record that you called in last month. Would it be possible for Capt. UberHusband to call us?”

“Not really…he’s being mobilized and deployed and isn’t readily available.” Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true at this point but I was in a feisty mood. I’m not going to burden him with petty household crap like this. Besides, really now, what else are they going to ask Capt. UberHusband that I couldn’t answer? Social security number? Mother’s maiden name? Name of high school? Check…check…and check.

I continued with, “I have access to everything online. You’re telling me that you can’t initiate billing credits from me because you don’t really know who I am but…Cingular is A-OK with me doing whatever I need to do online…and actually paying the bill…not really knowing who I am.”

“Well, when you put it that way, yes.”

Nice.

It really isn’t that big of a deal…I was just in a mood. All I have to do is go down to the Cingular store with a copy of Capt. UberHusband’s orders and my power of attorney (yay us for doing that before he left) and the patience of Job since the folks at our local Cingular store aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed.

Bwa ha ha…I have a power of attorney…mwa ha ha…hee hee…

Well, Captain UberHusband is gone.

Having him leave was tough. Really tough. I hope you married ladies never have to deal with watching your husband leave and not knowing when you’ll see him next.

On an up note…the season finales of Desperate Housewives and Grey’s Anatomy are on tonight. Hey…the UberHusband’s gone…it’s not like my television left me or anything.

Shame on Fox for leading us to believe that The O.C.’s big shootin’ showdown would happen at the Bait Shack of all places. Turns out that was just an innocent little drug deal gone bad, and Coke Whore Jess showed us that she has probably held a gun before and didn’t need Trey to feign doing her dirty work for her. Anyhoo…did she get her money? Did she get her drugs back? Methinks neither. Dude…summer’s gonna be a bummer for that girl.

Marissa’s head was grazed by broken glass…that was it.

In other news, Fox producers staged the best “we care about you…and your…ahem, problem” intervention since Dylan McKay was confronted by Mackenzie Phillips of all people, and I was in tears. Kirsten’s my hero mom…the kind of mom today’s women should strive to be…loving, but firm…not her children’s friend but their wiser parent. Well, you know, except for that whole alcoholism thing…and the adulterous temptation thing…but I digress.

It was entertaining to see Papa Coop and Hailey back in town, and even more entertaining to find out that their love affair didn’t make it too far past the Honolulu Harbor. My #2 favorite line of the night was when Jimmy told Hailey that the North Shore was something else. Her response? “So I’ve heard.” Hee. Oh Hailey, I do miss recapping North Shore.

My #1 favorite line of the night was when Marissa was apologizing to Julie for being such a bitch. Julie replied, “Apples. Trees. You are my daughter.”

Let’s recap what happened on last night’s finale…the Cohens squeezed in Caleb’s funeral around Kirsten’s intervention and subsequent trip to rehab, the Coopers (now with extra Jimmy!) decided to give this “family” thing another try and what…what’s that you say? Caitlin’s coming home from boarding school for the summer? And we’re going to miss it? I give The O.C. one more season before they bring Caitlin home as Marissa Jr. - tossed out from school because she gets into fights and tells everyone her pony is better than theirs.

Just. You. Wait.

Marissa tells Summer that Trey attacked her. Summer tells Seth that Marissa told her that Trey attacked her. Seth tells Ryan that Summer told him that Marissa told her that Trey attacked her. Ryan says something about trying to be someone he’s not and, long story short, our hero can’t keep his impulses under control and goes to Trey’s apartment to…I don’t know.

When Ryan gets there, Trey’s packing up because he’s splitting with Coke Whore Jess to Vegas (ah yes…guess she did get the cash). A fight ensues and Trey grabs the gun and points it at Ryan. Ryan pretends to back down then the holiest of all hells breaks loose. Fortunately, Seth calls Marissa and yanks her out of Family Dinner Time (geez, don’t families get to hang out with each other anymore?) because she lives closer and can…I don’t know.

Marissa arrives and jumps on Trey’s back because he’s choking Ryan. Trey knocks Marissa off and…right as Trey is getting ready to bring the old school rotary phone down on Ryan’s head…Marissa shoots him square in the back.

Dude…summer’s gonna be a bummer for that girl, too.

Well then. At least Oliver didn’t show up.

Work has been nuts, the guys installing our countertops don’t appear to be leaving anytime soon…and I’m just plum tired.

I need a drink. Or nine. Actually, that would probably put me straight to sleep.

But, the countertops look great. The UberHusband will enjoy looking at them for the next…day.

Geez…I don’t even need to write my San Antonio travelogue…CNN has done all the work for me.

And, here’s the Boudro’s guacamole I can’t shut up about:

There are always a few things we will always make time for when going to San Antonio. The first is the guacamole, which I’ve talked about for weeks. We had Boudro’s guacamole three times this trip. The other thing is the San Antonio River Tour. Sure, it’s touristy and kitschy but every time we do it, something new is added.

By far, the most entertaining part of the weekend was when we took the river tour. Our boatmaster, Juan, was a kick…as they all are. We had a full boat…as they all are, and four Hispanic (and very non-English speaking) riders were sitting right next to the UberHusband and me. Now, if they don’t speak English, that’s fine. We are in San Antonio and we understand it’s more North Mexico than South Texas.

However…

These people had zero consideration for anyone else on the boat. They were yapping VERY LOUDLY en español and getting up and standing up and moving around and taking pictures and generally being quite obnoxious. It’s a small boat. Lots of people. The four in question were not particularly small so obviously, when they got up, everyone noticed.

Now, I know how to say “shut up” and “sit down” in Spanish and considered saying just those things, until the one guy in the group lost his balance while moving around the moving boat and almost crushed the UberHusband. Not wanting to risk meeting the same fate and getting squished like a Boudro’s avocado, I bit my lip and thought, “This is going to make for such a great blog story.” Fortunately though, my intervention wasn’t necessary because Boatmaster Juan did the work for us. Again, much like CNN.

At one point Juan completely stopped the boat in the middle of the river and just stared at the group…hoping they’d notice the change in momentum. Nope. They just continued to talk and get up and take pictures and do their thing. Eventually, he pulled the boat over to edge, tied it up and went down to talk to Señor Motormouth.

Juan asked Señor Motormouth if he only spoke Spanish. Of course, he did. Juan only spoke English but tried to get the point across that they needed to quit getting up and moving around (including the “let your fingers do the walking” hand gesture) and quiet down so everyone else could enjoy the tour.

There were these two kids sitting next to me and their moms were across from us…and we were all dying. We were laughing so hard, but trying not to laugh too loud…and we all had tears running down our faces watching Juan try to handle these insolent dolts.

Juan’s stern reprimand worked…for about two minutes. Then, they were back to their oblivious ways. At the end of these tours, the boatmaster always makes a plea for tips and generally, we don’t give anything. This time though, Juan entertained us and we gave the guy five bucks because he sure did try and he gets extra points for managing to be funny and not a jackass around a group of difficult people.

Yay. Fun trip.

The only thing that sucks is now the official “countdown” has started. Up until two days ago, I had this wonderful weekend to look forward to and distract me from the fact that the UberHusband was going to leave just a few days after we got back.

Lots going on…a few things to finish up, a few more people to say goodbye to and then…there you have it.

Snarkwife: Excuse me, Mr. San Antonio bartender, could you whip me up a JuJu?

Bartender: Excuse me?
Snarkwife: {leaning in} A Ju. Ju. {rolling eyes}
Bartender: I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.

Snarkwife: Oh sure you do. It’s a margarita, no lime, extra salt with an Ambien sidecar. I’d also like to have it served to me by a gold-digging former porn queen in a bikini. Think you can do that for me?

Have you ever noticed, that time goes by really, really fast when you don’t want it to…then it crawls by at an excruciatingly slow pace when you do want it to go by quickly?

Ever since the UberHusband got his orders, the time has absolutely flown by. I’ve recently experienced probably the quickest five weeks of my life ever. When we got back from San Antonio on Tuesday, we decided we were both ready to just get on with this already…we’re ready for it to be Sunday morning. Although that might sound strange, this has been a rather strange process and, I’m actually relieved that we’re both emotionally and physically prepared enough to say goodbye. Maybe that’s why I had big crocodile tears rolling down my face when Sun and Jin were saying goodbye last night on Lost.

Everything is crossed off the lists, the UberHusband is getting sick of eating out at restaurants he won’t probably be able to go to for awhile and, well, it’s just time.

So of course, the time is creeping by. I love the UberHusband…and he loves me…but we’re tired of playing the waiting game. The sooner we get this started, the sooner it will be over with.

The upside to the slow pace though…it made our manicures and pedicures a little more enjoyable this morning. That’s right. The UberHusband is secure enough in his manhood to not only do alarmingly accurate Coby impressions, but get manicures and pedicures to boot. The ladies at my nail salon love him.

Another Lost thing you all (y’all? all y’all?) already noticed but hey, I’ve been busy today:

Jack’s seat was 23A…Hot Chick Everyone Except Me Seems To Recognize’s seat was…42F.

Yep…two more of Hurley’s lottery numbers.

Last night, I drank my first margarita in nearly ten years.

Let me explain the significance of this to you as historically, tequila has not been my friend.

In the Spring of my senior year of college, my co-workers and I decided to do a happy hour at a local mexican restaurant. The margaritas were flowing, but I didn’t like regular margaritas so I ordered a strawberry margarita at the bar. Apparently, the bartender mistook my order for “one strawberry margarita” for “one pitcher of strawberry margaritas.” Being’s as I was the only one at the table of the berry persuasion, I started to drink.

When all was said and done, I had sung both Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” and Donna Summer’s “Last Dance” (I’m hoping it was karaoke night) in front of the packed house and had to call my boyfriend to drive my drunk, pathetic ass home.

My co-workers got a kick out of me. After that…didn’t touch tequila for a couple of years.

On December 31, 1995 I went to a New Year’s Eve party at the house of my good friends Brian and Paul. The party began about 7-ish and was rather unexciting until the bottle of tequila came out. Long story short, I tried to run with the big dogs when it came to tequila shots and was upstairs in the bathroom by about 10 p.m. They took pictures and laughed at me. Oddly enough, I felt pretty darn good the next day. Ahh…youth.

Nevertheless, since that day the mere scent of tequila has been enough to send chills down my spine and make me all gurgly and uncomfortable. Hence, I had not touched a drop of tequila since. I’m sure many of you have a similar story…my mom’s involves sloe gin…LOL.

But yesterday, during our third guacamole meal at Boudro’s, I decided it was time to confront my tequila demons head-on and drank a prickly pear margarita. Damn…that was a good drink. Couldn’t taste or smell the tequila at all. And yes, I know they put something in it because it made the river boat excursion that followed all the more entertaining.

But more on that tomorrow…

Here’s the UberHusband’s latest imitation of UberFlamer Coby from last night’s Survivor.

I swear, I’m starting to watch Survivor just to see what lame expression Coby comes up with at key moments during Tribal Council.

Having said that, if I were one of the Three Amigas, I would be quickly realizing that if I were in the Final Two with either Ian or Tom, I would probably lose. Hence, it would seem prudent to vote one of them off.

Wouldn’t it?

Over the last couple of months, Audrey has become quite the fertile little plant. She has ten baby tomatoes growing.

She’s getting big. The cilantro I’ve planted is thriving and I also have two tiny jalapenos beginning to grow.

Yay! Salsa!

So, let me see if I have this straight. Watching Lost at 8 a.m. is a little different than watching it at 7 p.m.

Mrs. Subtitle doesn’t want Mr. Subtitle to leave on the raft, because she still loves him and wants them to be together. Kate comes up with the idea of giving Mr. Subtitle a little ailment (which would prevent him from leaving on the next morning’s scheduled departure), so Mrs. Subtitle puts “something” in Mr. Subtitle’s water bottle. Mr. Subtitle and Michael mix up water bottles, resulting in Michael being afflicted with the “little ailment.”

The ailment pops up shortly after Kate talks to Michael about throwing Sawyer off the raft (because she knows how to sail, apparently) and Sawyer confronting Michael about Kate taking his place. Sawyer then confronts Kate and dumps the contents of her bag on the sand in front of, well, everyone, and points out that she modified a dead woman’s passport which means…she would do anything to get off that island, including poison Michael.

Goodness Kate…what did you do?

Can I ask why we haven’t seen Dr. Art, The Science Guy before? He’s actually kind of funny, in a disturbing please-don’t-leave-me-on-the-island-with-a-science-teacher-and-a-genuine-Iraqi sort of way.

I have decided, that I’d like an Oceanic drink cart to put in the garage. You know, to arrange all of our tools and whatnot.

And…Locke gave me a new phrase that I plan on using liberally at work…”You exercised discretion, I exercised mine.”

Thanks, lil’ buddy.

And ooh OOH OOH OOH I just realized something…Kate and Dr. Ex made their time capsule tape on August 15, 1989. Two of Hurley’s lottery numbers were…yep…8 and 15. I got all excited and jumped up and down in front of the UberHusband when I realized this, proclaiming my pride of having figured something about that show out…whether it’s meaningful or not, I don’t know. He said he was proud of me, then continued to vacuum.

The UberHusband received in his email box today:
# An email from BMG Music Service, exclaiming how much they miss him and want him to come back to their creepy little music cult.
# An email from a law firm, notifying said UberHusband that he’s eligible to participate in a class action lawsuit against…BMG Music Service.

So I had this dream last night. I got a letter in the mail from the U.S. Army, ordering me and every other new Army wife to basic training “so we’d better understand what our men go through.”

WTF?

Anyhoo, I followed the instructions and showed up wearing my husband’s BDUs at what looked like London’s Underground from The Amazing Race two weeks ago. One one side of the “training area” was a firing range and on the other side, the clothing store. That was the extent of our training. Shooting and shopping. Yay us.

Oh yeah, Richard Gere was there, too. Hitting on me. I doubt I did, but it would have been great had I blurted out, “Nobody DOR’s after eleven weeks! Nobody!”

My drill sargeant…I kid you not…was…

That’s right. Mrs. Incredible was my drill sargeant…complete with Holly Hunter’s voice.

Time for some coffee.

Previously on The Amazing Race, our teams learned the fine art of bus driving, Rahb & Ambuh experienced a thing I like to call “payback,” and Ron & Kelly continued their quest to set themselves up for a surprise marriage proposal on a talk show in the next week.

Three teams remain…who will win (Dr. Evil voice) one milllllllllllllllion dollars?

For the last couple of seasons, I’ve griped about how tough it is to recap these 2-hour finales so, to maximize snarkiness while minimizing personal angst, I live-blogged. Yes. You heard me.

8:00 p.m. - Phil takes us down Amazing Race memory lane and talks about people I frankly, don’t remember. I didn’t realize that PODubya and Miss South Kellylina were about a millisecond away from going home the very first leg. Ah…memories, Blondes getting lost, Grandma Girlname whacking her head, Dull and Duller flipping their vehicle and Kelly proclaiming the love of her life a “piece of trash redneck.” Joyce shaved her head which ultimately, only bought them about a half-hour lead.

8:04 p.m. - Kelly “confronts” Ron in Istanbul and for some stupid reason implies that Ron volunteered to be a PODubya. I just felt the need to remind everyone of that little exchange.
8:10 p.m. - The remaining three teams knock back pints during the pit stop. Rahb & Ambuh depart at 2:47 p.m and fly to Jamaica, mon. Rahb implores the Amazing Producers to just write the check, because he and Ambuh are going to win. Rahb butchers the Jamaican word, “Mon.”
8:11 p.m. - Ron & Kelly depart 2 hours after Rahb & Ambuh. PODubya once again points out that in the military, he didn’t have to deal with “these emotional things.” (“Yeah, but you weren’t dating your crew chief, either. Maybe you were.” -UberHusband)

8:13 p.m. - Uchenna & Joyce bring up the rear and we have a Dr. Phil moment when Uchenna tells us that they considered splitting up but the Race has changed all of that.
8:15 p.m. - Kelly has makeup on. Ron gripes about how, a year and a half ago, he was controlled. People controlled what he did, what he ate. (“You mean he’s been married before?” -SnarkWife) Kelly’s sad and for some reason thinks that if Ron is acting like her boyfriend, then he is obligated to marry her.

8:17 p.m. - Ron tries to hold Kelly’s hand on the flight to Jamaica. She pulls her hand away.
8:18 p.m. - Frenchman’s Cove. Roadblock. Teams participate in a “traditional Jamaican party game”…no, it’s not panhandling or hairbraiding…it’s not even drug selling…it’s limbo, mon! The lower you limbo, the earlier you can leave Frenchman’s Cove the next day.

8:19 p.m. - Kelly: How low can you go? Ron: Sounds like you.
8:20 a.m. - Ambuh goes very low and snags an 8:15 a.m. departure for Grant’s Level where they’ll get their next clue.
8:21 p.m. - Kelly goes very low, too and Joyce gives up and settles for 8:30 a.m.
8:22 p.m. - Teams build a bonfire to take them through the overnight hours. Rahb built fires on Survivor.

8:24 p.m. - PODubya says, “No worries, man.” Grant’s Level. Detour. Huck Finn It or Build It. Finally! PODubya admits there’s something he can’t do…he can’t build a raft. Using Kellylogic, if he had known how to do that, maybe he could have gotten out of being a PODubya. Rahb built rafts on Survivor.

8:26 p.m. - Everyone is Buil