Halloween, typically, is about scary things…so let me tell you about my scariest Halloween experience. Actually, this experience lasted from about the week before Halloween up until right after my birthday, so I had residual Halloween spookitude.

Back in 1994, I worked at a bank and became friends with a co-worker we’ll call Psycho Psarah. She was everything I sort of aspired to be - she had a new red Saturn coupe (leased, I found out later, for $450 a month), a cool apartment in a cool area of town, and fun friends. Not that I didn’t have fun friends at the time…but these folks were just…different. How different, you might ask?

Well, Psycho Psarah had a guy friend we’ll call…Obsessed Otto. The three of us got together for brunch one Sunday morning and I guess he became smitten with me, and asked me out. He picked me up at my apartment and we went to this big haunted house which was “the thing to do” at the time. When he dropped me off at my apartment afterwards, I was polite and invited him in. I had a roommate so nothing was going to happen, but the guy wouldn’t leave. He wasn’t all over me or anything; quite the contrary, he was a real gentleman…but again, he wouldn’t leave. It was a work night, it was 11:30 - I needed my beauty sleep. Nice enough guy, but I just didn’t think we clicked.

Unfortunately, he thought we clicked a lot and yapped to Psycho Psarah the next day about our fantastic date. Well, she called me at work and went on and on and ON about how Otto thought I was cool and isn’t that cute and…I don’t know, I got a weird vibe…like she was pissed her friend was interested in me (sidenote: She always claimed to have a boyfriend, who lived out of town, but I never met the guy - we’ll call him George Glass, since he was supposed to visit three times and never materialized). This didn’t really worry me or anything, because I was young, and had no idea yet that people could be so disturbingly strange.

A few days later, pshe called me and invited me to a Halloween party at one of her friend’s houses. You’d think after her pissiness the previous week I would have run, run, RUN away from anything having to do with her, but no. You’d also think she wouldn’t invite me anywhere since apparently I was taking her non-boyfriend away from her, but it is stories like this which make us into the wiser adults we are today.

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I don’t know about you, but when I think of buying toys for children, three words come to mind: teaching them responsibility.

Fortunately, the fine people at Mattel have answered the collective prayers of parents and relatives of children everywhere by introducing the Barbie Forever Barbie Doll with Tanner the Dog.

Here are a few of the toy’s notable features:

* Tanner is soft and fuzzy and her mouth, ears, head and tail really move

* You can open Tanner’s mouth and feed her dog biscuits

* Comes with dog bone and chew toy that Tanner can hold in her mouth

* When Tanner has to go to the bathroom Barbie cleans up with the magnetic scooper

CU and I saw Tanner, ahem, “in action” on the news this morning, and predict her popularity will only be surpassed by Methelmo this holiday season.

cocktails at the club
telling you this, your own good
redheads, three so far

¡dos millones, ay!
grudge sex, joke is on gaby
help with my stockings

bitch, capital c
my old friend, margarita
god called you a cab

lynette, lousy wife
tom, it’s a fixer upper
grownups need a time-out

moving on from mike
searching for lost jigger, salt
tossing your tacos

they still make payphones?
confession, good for the soul
a man named harvey

scheming nora
keep those little ears open
spine, same as front door!

I have a link over in my sidebar, but I joined a Fafarazzi league last week, which is basically a fantasy football league, only with celebrity gossip. I couldn’t resist. It looked like so much fun the last time Betty was involved, so I joined in the fun…and I’m in first place, as of today.

All I need now is for Anna Nicole Smith to hook up with Isaiah Washington…then ask Kate Moss to be the surrogate for their love child…and then maybe Mischa Barton can be caught in a cheap hotel with Mario Lopez…and I’d be set! She mentioned something to me this morning about pending murder charges for Anna Anna, Fabulous Anna…my week can’t start out that good, can it? Well, good for me…not so good for her.

We’re replacing all of the baseboards in our house…well, all of them except for the ones in the master bathroom water closet. CU forgot about that “room” when measuring everything out.

It’s so much fun tackling “home improvement” projects together, but probably rather boring for others because we don’t fight or snip or nag at each other. There’s no drama…which would make for compelling television, but would likely bring all of our projects in late and over budget.

Used to be, I’d send pictures to my mom of our progress on various projects, and she’d always comment on what a great job CU did on this or on that. Finally one day I said, “You know Mom, I work, too. I don’t just stand around and supervise…ha ha.” Turns out, since all of the pictures were usually of CU, she figured he did all the work. In reality, he just never took any pictures of me doing work. So, here I am, busting out one of the baseboards in our bathroom.

I also moved all of the old baseboards (nails and all, yay!) and relocated them to the back of the Jeep so we could haul them to the dump today…is that the PC word, or should I be saying “community waste disposal facility”? He installs, I clean up.

The best part? We had the standard contractors’ lunch yesterday of McDonalds, although we omitted eating it under the shady tree in front of the house. We also skipped the blaring mariachi music, but we did drink beer. Go us.

We also had help from the dogs, and when we started getting tired…then started getting silly…we tried to torture Cookie.

Well, this is it. When I start paying, I start staying.

The site will look weird for a bit, whilst I play with themes and widgets and try to remember how all of this works again.

On the domestic front, today is Cookie’s 10th birthday. I remember my 10th birthday well…had a slumber party with all of my little girlfriends and a Miss Piggy theme. After all, it was 1981.

25 years later, the birthday girl gets her own video on You Tube.

She did it, so I had to go see what the fuss was all about. Now that I have, you need to come see what the fuss is all about.

Come watch me and Ali dance like we’re eating creme brulee last August.

Hi, I’ve Been Stabbed By My Other Hand!

Originally uploaded by snarkwife.

If I bumped into someone on the street - besides probably giving me another bruise - they’d be rather taken aback by my facial contusion (almost healed, though), multiple bruises on both upper arms and now, my self-inflicted right hand wound. The picture’s backwards…Photo Booth seems to do that.

I also ran my right foot into my desk leg this morning, but all toenails are intact. Be grateful for that, or you’d probably get to see a photo of that, instead.

Now, I’m beginning to wonder if my front end is out of alignment, since I seem to be steering precariously to the right all the time and running myself into things.

Received via email from my friend Kevin this morning…

The Top 20 Little-Known Terrorist Organizations

20. Al Quesadilla — fighting for Mexican cheese appetizers

19. B.R.A. (Banana Republican Army) — khaki-wearing freedom fighting yuppies

18. International House of Paramilitarism — No attacks before breakfast!

17. Al Shamu — whales fighting for liberation of their Seaworld-captive brethren

16. Ku Klutz Klan — clumsy cross-burning rednecks

15. Kabob-aloos — Cuban freedom fighters armed only with skewers

14. The IRAs — little nebbish guys who annoy the hell out of people, with pants hiked high to conceal their Glocks

13. El McPherson — band of crazed-from-hunger Supermodels

12. The Moulin Rouge — French Communist song and dance troupe

11. The Spanish Imposition — Your Tia Josephina comes for a visit, stays for a month, and lounges around all day watching Spanish soap operas with the TV volume blasting.

10. Al Kato — freeloading houseguests who move in and eat all your food

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I received an email this morning that my old domain has been released back into the wild…and now I’m at a bit of a crossroads. Do I snatch it again, do I go for a new domain…or do I just stay put and enjoy the fruits of Wordpress.com and it’s freeness?

There are a lot of things about Wordpress.com that I really enjoy - of course, it’s free - and it’s easy and I don’t have to worry about security or uploading anything or managing folders, etc. - but with that comes a lack of flexibility. I can’t post anything to my blog that has any embedded code or Flash, and while that’s not necessarily a deal-killer, there are a few things I’d like to post - a Flickr badge of more than my most recent three photos, the “Now Playing” list from iLike…and my team ranking from Fafarazzi.

Plus, I have severe ADD when it comes to blog presentation - and I’d be able to download more themes for a hosted WP blog than are currently available at WP.com.

Please…someone tell me what to do.

On a totally unrelated note, we had to bid adieu to Jerry Springer last night and I’m predicting Mario Lopez will take the great state of California and win Dancing With The Stars. I’m loving Emmitt Smith more every week (despite my loathing of all things Cowboys), but I think Mario has been the most consistent. And, I’ll admit it now…in front of you all…I have a girl crush on Edyta. No woman can be that hot - which is why I think I’m not intimidated by her - she must be some sort of robot. Heh. That sorta rhymed.

I also read…somewhere…that Lost was going to kill off another primary character, and we would be “shocked and surprised” at who it is. I’m hoping it’s BenHen but if it is…then Dr. Jack is going to be 0-for-way too many when it comes to saving lives on that island. Boone died, Shannon died, Ana Lucia died, Colleen died, the pilot died…just don’t let Sawyer die. I’m now loving his character way too much for him to die…which is precisely why he’ll probably go.

And…why is there a fertility doctor on the island? Are they trying to create some sort of master race or something?

Sheri posted about how her son refers to the 80’s as “the olden days”…and it reminded me of something that happened when CU and I went shopping this past weekend.

We were at the Lucky Brand Jeans store…and the two salesgirls were talking about music…and then I heard the words “Prince” and “oldies”…and then realized they were talking about Purple Rain.

I so badly wanted to ask them if Lucky made jeans for women whose hips have filled out, because in about five years the freaks of nature who call themselves teenage girls will see their metabolism slow down and then…ah, screw it.

To quote another golden oldie…“How Did I Get Here”?

I can’t remember if it was last year…or the year before…but I jumped on the LastFM bandwagon, and all of the “musical social networking” opportunities it was supposed to provide. Well, I found the site to be clunky, the British spellings aggravating - and it seemed it took forever for their servers to update what everyone was listening to.

This was always a rather sore spot for me, because my paying job is to help ensure my company’s web applications aren’t clunky or difficult to navigate. I also encourage keeping British terminology to a minimum. I don’t get it - we can get it right, why can’t everyone else?

Needless to say, I didn’t use LastFM for very long. Today, I stumbled across iLike, which is the same idea, only way cooler…in my opinion. God, listen to me…”way cooler.” Ugh. Guess I need to get my hipster-speak out of the way since next month, I officially become an old fogie.

Anyway, their beta has only been up since yesterday, but so far…so good. The sort of neat thing…you can download a sidebar for iTunes, which will show your friends’ recently played lists.

I don’t know…I think it’s fun. I’m always up for new things, and it’s very rarely I’ll pimp businesses or websites…but ya’ll might want to check it out.  And while you’re at it, sign up for Blingo and check out my Proud Army Wife store at CafePress.

It’s bad enough I have to share my birthday with Prince Charles, but now I also have to share my special day with these two? No fair!

Is Tom Cruise allowed to get married in Italy, and is his bride allowed to wear a designer gown?  For some reason I figured they’d tie the knot on Jupiter or something…and she’d be wearing a smashing frock made of tin foil.

Associated Press

NEW YORK — Hollywood’s most high-profile engaged couple have finally set a wedding date.

Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise

Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes will marry in Italy on Nov. 18, Cruise’s representative, Arnold Robinson, confirmed to The Associated Press on Tuesday. Holmes will wear a dress designed by Giorgio Armani, Robinson also confirmed.

The wedding date was reported by Us Weekly magazine on its Web site.

Holmes, 27, and Cruise, 44, became engaged in June 2005. Their daughter, Suri, was born April 18. She made her debut on the cover of Vanity Fair magazine last month. The photo showed Suri peeking out of a jacket worn by Cruise with Holmes looking on.

Cruise and Holmes were first photographed together in Rome in April 2005. Two months later, the “Mission: Impossible” actor announced he had proposed to Holmes atop the Eiffel Tower in Paris.

Holmes, who starred in TV’s “Dawson’s Creek,” was previously engaged to actor Chris Klein. Cruise, previously married to Mimi Rogers and Nicole Kidman, also had a high-profile romance with Penelope Cruz.

Kim reminded me of something very important - I totally forgot about shows I’m not currently watching because they’re either coming back mid-season, or a key character has been replaced by the chick from Gladiator. Additions are *in asterisks*.

I saw Becky doing this, and thought I’d follow suit…

It’s kind of funny…I can lump the TV shows we watch into three categories:

• Shows we watch when they actually air (must see TV)
• Shows we record, then watch over the weekend
• Shows we record, then delete over the weekend because they don’t sound that interesting, after all

Or, in last night’s case…shows we watch and record, because watching it once just isn’t enough. Unfortunately, last night…we neither watched nor recorded Desperate Housewives (washer broke…again…yay…), so it’s a good thing ABC re-runs the show online.

Shows I Love
Entourage
Dancing With The Stars
Grey’s Anatomy
The Office
Lost
My Name Is Earl
Desperate Housewives
How I Met Your Mother
The Soup
The Simpsons
King Of The Hill
*American Idol*

Shows I Like
Wife Swap
Supernanny
ER
Big Love
Desperate Housewives
The Amazing Race
Iron Chef America
*Scrubs*
*Law & Order: Special Victims Unit*

Shows that have been on but I just started watching and they’re pretty decent
Boston Legal
Project Runway

Shows that have either jumped the shark or suck, yet I still watch
The O.C.
Two and a Half Men
Survivor
The Bachelor

New shows that I really like
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
Justice

New shows that I kind of like and am still “trying out”
Friday Night Lights
The Nine
Help Me Help You
Ugly Betty

New shows that I tried but didn’t like
Shark
Six Degrees
Men In Trees
Brothers and Sisters

New shows that I liked but have already been canceled
Um…nothing yet. I don’t think.

I think it’s a little early in the season to be doing this, but NBC is running a 3-hour “marathon” of Friday Night Lights tonight. That’s right - that would be all three episodes which have aired thus far. Sadly, this show was pitted against Dancing With The Stars on Tuesday nights, and as hot as I find Kyle Chandler, I’d rather watch Emmitt do the rhumba than Kyle do the triple double axle or whatever it is football coaches do.

We’ve been recording the show, and find it entertaining enough. I’ve always been turned off by TV shows which displayed teenagers as having the emotional and physical maturity of 30-year olds, since I remember being a teenager. I thought I was smart…but I wasn’t. None of us were. I’m probably just a cranky grownup, but I get more of a kick out of watching all of the adults - from the mayor to the local car dealership’s owner to the busboy at Applebee’s - playing armchair quarterback and behaving like it’s their job on the line every Friday.

But, I love Connie Britton’s character - The Coach’s Long-Suffering Wife.  Love her. She’s my favorite character, probably because I enjoy watching her mock the city’s gaggle of clucking hens.

I find it incredibly ironic they’re running the minithon…on a Friday. I would hope NBC would be smart enough to realize their core demographic won’t be home on a Friday night because they’re all at freaking high school football games!

Duh. I bet Jordan wouldn’t make a programming move like that.

Once again…proof that all the nice guys are like parking spaces…they’re taken or gay.

I didn’t realize until I did a bit more digging that this all came out (sorry) because Isaiah Washington blurted something rather unsavory at T.R. Knight during that scuffle we heard about last week.

All of a sudden, I wouldn’t be too crushed if Dr. Preston Burke was chopped in half by a chicken, and said chicken’s girlfriend cock-a-doodle-dood “BWAAAAK PUT IT BACK TOGETHER BWAAAAK!”

In other news, Bailey fights mommy persecution, Izzie’s kind of a jerk (”All my friends are, you know, poor“), Cristina’s lottery fantasy includes buying a hospital and stuffing it full of sick people, McDreamy gets the Manhattan Brownstone Overlooking Central Park…and…Callie was McSteamied. How do you go back to George after that? I mean, seriously.

I just need about 10 more of these, and I can have a pretty cool screensaver.

Props to Dell for letting me steal her picture (wouldn’t have had the same impact with my crochet hook) and to Demotivators for just being, well, them.

I think I experienced all of this…within the first week of owning my Mac.

A co-worker and I were instant messaging this afternoon, and he inadvertently misspelled the word “stupid.”

It was a fairly inocuous error, as we’re pretty used to misspellings and understand it in no way negatively influences our high esteem for each other.

Today though…he created a new word: “stupoid”

In a single keyboard click, a new noun was born - one which is an innovative synonym for stupid people, who also happen to possess alien tendencies and personality traits.

Our new word also saves time, effort and valuable typing space. This is important in our chaotic world.

Stupoids. Pass it on - see if it will take off like “Seriously?”

I know…I’m getting an early start this season. It’s just when I stumble across an item which, frankly, begs to be blogged, I can’t just file it away and bring it back in three weeks…I’d lose momentum and half of blogging is doing it when the mood strikes.

Are you looking for the perfect holiday gift for that special person in your life who just won’t shut up? You know the one I’m talking about - it might be one of your friends, or a co-worker, or a sibling. Every time you talk to him/her, you feel you’re being judged. Hell, it’s not just a feeling…you know you’re being judged. So what if you’re an unmarried crack whore with no backbone and 22 million dollars in credit card debt…you don’t know me!

Well, give your favorite moral & ethical busybody the gift that keeps on giving…the Dr. Laura Action Figure. That’s right folks, she comes to you dressed conservatively in a flattering lemon-colored suit, and spouts off 23 different phrases when you press her button. Seriously, that’s what the description says.

I so need to get one of these for use exclusively on my weekly staff calls.

Boss Lady: “So Stacy, what’s new with you this week?”

Snarkwife: “Are you sure this is the hill you want to die on?”

**OR**

Snarkwife: “Proud mom of an American soldier.”

Oh yeah. Must buy.

You know, I am really, really disappointed in ABC and Dancing With The Stars. Things make me mad. Things make me cranky. But, things have to be pretty darn bad for me to be disappointed. I think that’s the most desperate emotion I can feel - disappointment.

Anyway, it’s bad enough that I’ve had to read about the lurid details of Sara Evans’s impending divorce, but last night, I had to watch Samantha Harris pose incredibly tasteless questions to Mario Lopez (”In light of the recent events surrounding Sara Evans, how has the mood been amongst the celebrities and dancers?”) and watch awkward paso doble “memories” of Ms. Evans.

Then, there was this totally inappropriate sitdown between Sara and Tom Bergeron, where she waxed poetic about traveling along the divorce turnpike (now there’s a country song title) and how it was very important to tend to her family and children during this very difficult time. At least, I assume that’s what she said. I left the room during her interview, as I would have been embarrassed had I sat there and listened to it…and only caught bits and pieces of it from the back office.

If protecting her family and taking care of them was that important, she would have quietly and respectfully bowed out of the show and kept a low profile. She wouldn’t have gone back on DWTS and rehashed all her dirty laundry, because to me, that smacks of self-servitude.

I just thought it was tacky.

Hey kids! I’ve been MIA the past few days…and would like to say it’s been a half-week of rollicking activity and frolicking fun, but it’s just been…life. We bought a new bed…that was exciting. Up until this past weekend, my adult beds have consisted of mattress frames and…CU’s bed. Remember back in college when you could sleep with your boyfriend/girlfriend in one of those hideous twin-size dorm beds and be snug as bugs in a rug? There is no way I could do that now. No. Way. I bought a queen size bed when I moved out here a trillion years ago and now, we’ve upgraded further to a king size bed. 8-10 weeks, and it will be all ours.

In other news, I have combined my two current great non-dog-non-husband loves - my Mac and my relentless need for structure, and have gotten myself back into what I hope will become a routine.

You see, when CU went to Iraq, I was all discombobulated and out of sorts for several months. When I finally got into a groove, it was a very good groove. My day was neatly divided up into sub-sections which included, but were not limited to, Communication With My Soldier (phone, IM, emails), Household Duties and…Television.

Some folks pooh-pooh structure, thinking it’s akin to a noose around your neck. Those are the free spirit types who always cause me to scratch my head, because I go nuts if I don’t have something to do. Unstructured “free time” really makes me nervous. Just ask CU - we’ll have these grandiose plans to do nothing for an entire weekend. By around noon on Saturday though, I’m pacing around the house looking for something to do. I’m kind of like one of those kids Nanny Jo will pity because her parents don’t provide enough for her to do - except I’m 34.

Not surprising - I’m the same way at work. I was the same way as a child, too - which is why I devoured all my schoolwork and then skipped the third grade.

Anyway…when CU came back home, we immersed ourselves in the “honeymoon” period of reunion and reintegration and we both naively thought we would eventually just slide back into the routines we were in before he left. Problem was…those routines didn’t work, and we were left wondering if they even worked before he left. Take going to the gym. CU has no problem going after work. For me, working out does not help my wind down after work - never has. I’d rather stay at work an extra hour than go to the gym. Who knows why - maybe it’s my biorhythms - or perhaps I saw too many Snickers commercials as a kid and became convinced everyone crashes at 3 PM unless they have some chocolate, caramel and peanuts.

Earlier this year, I started going in the morning…and found it surprisingly easy to keep up. I went every day - after CU and I talked on the phone, but before I started my workday. My moods were better when I went in the morning, and I found I had more energy towards the end of the day. I quit going and…well…you can figure out how to reverse the previous sentence.

For the past few months, we’ve continued to try to shove that square peg into the round hole and this weekend, finally came to the understanding that if we don’t go to the gym together, it doesn’t mean our marriage is in trouble or we don’t like each other, or for some reason we’re no longer “in sync”. I know that probably sounds dumb, but we do practically everything together, so there’s a bit of anxiety and panic if we choose to do something apart because it works better for us individually.

I guess what they say about a deployment is pretty true - it takes about the same amount of time you were apart to unwind from the experience.  Fortunately, we’re five months in…which I believe is about the point where things started to settle down the first go-around.  This is very good.

Last night on Grey’s Anatomy…Meredith: The Morphine Experience! Meredith got appendicitis, which is infinitely more appealing I suppose, than being pregnant with McBaby, which I suppose would then turn her into the Dirty Adulterous Ex-Mistress Whore Baby’s Mama. The upside? She spews all sorts of verbal diarrhea, outs her Unpleasant Sexual Experience With George to McVet (and everyone else in her room) and makes nice with Addison, who only makes nice with Meredith because she knows Mere won’t remember a thing once the drugs wear off.

Sort of like me and my dental experience…by the way…I’m not feeling an ounce of pain. Nothing. I thought maybe the anesthesia hadn’t worn off yet but I ate using both sides of my mouth last night, and drank hot coffee this morning. Maybe my dentist did a root canal while she was in there. Who knows.

Anyhoo, back to the show. So, did McSteamy actually go “home” with Callie? CU and I ascertained that the hotel where everyone’s staying is really just Shondacode for “Grand Hyatt”. I tried to spell it backwards a’la Nahte Mor to see what I could get, or perhaps I’d get an answer to whether or not Paul is really dead. I suspect if McSteamy were to come across Meredith’s panties on the bulletin board, he’d realize in two-tenths of a second they didn’t belong to Callie - you know, because he’s a plastic surgeon and all and has probably medically rearranged many backsides in his illustrious career.

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I have to get a crown. Another one. On the upper left side of my mouth - directly across from the one I had put on the upper right side of my mouth 2 1/2 years ago.

How symmetrical.

I was rather antsy to get in and get this process going, because I would like the permanent crown to be fully installed and most of the pain gone by my birthday and Thanksgiving…so, things start rolling Thursday morning.

See, kids? This is why you shouldn’t grind your teeth and clench them for 8 hours a night for 30 years - your teeth crack.

What does it say about me when I check on CU’s delayed flight, and when the status is “Call Airline”, I assume the plane has crashed?

So what do I do, I call American Airlines. I talked to a friendly IVR voice, who was very pleasant even though she had difficulty understanding CU’s flight number. Eventually, she was able to ascertain that the plane had left the gate, but had not yet taken off.

For as much as I bitch and complain about “technology” basically tethering me to my job 24/7 and how instant messenger has evolved into a creepy time-clock of sorts, recent innovations in technology allowed me to send an email to CU’s Blackberry, letting him know that I’m sorry, and sitting on the tarmac is a sucky way to spend a morning. Technology also allowed him to call me from the plane to tell me they’re having mechanical problems, and he’s grateful he didn’t have any meetings this afternoon at his final destination.

In other news, Fraidy Cat Daisy is still hiding under the bed from the thunderstorms earlier today. I keep trying to tell her the Thunder Monster is not going to kick down the front door and torture her, but I don’t think she’s buying it.

On an unrelated note, I think I’ve figured out why Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip’s ratings are dropping every week. Sure, they’re on up against CSI: Miami, but not everyone watches that show. Or at least, I don’t.

It’s Harriet…she sucks the life out of me, and I can’t handle her angst. I get that most dramas need some sort of sexual and/or romantic tension but…in my totally unprofessional opinion…this one doesn’t. She wants her man back, no she doesn’t, she wants closure…no wait, she wants to smooch a baseball player in exchange for an autographed bat…she’s a conservative Christian, but is conflicted because she works in the liberal world of television! Please…someone shoot me…or better yet, shoot her.  Do it during News 60 and watch Jack pee his pants when the ratings come in.

In all honestly, it’s during Harriet’s scenes when CU and I either pick up the kitchen or go to the bathroom or turn down the bed, or in last night’s case, pour ourselves another glass of wine. She had one good scene last week…and one good line:

When asked for comment, the bear said, “RRRRAWWWWR”.

explore bermuda
days at the pool, mrs. hodge
dumpster diving son

saved bundle, airfare
court calls it spousal support
upfront, honest cheat

bloody fantastic
don’t judge me, mr. virgin
nine isn’t a lot

super mom lynette
pipe down, annoying nut job
10-4 good buddy

homework in the dark
overloaded my circuits
no shirts in fairview?

“Goin’ Postal”

I kid you not…saw it in Frisco on the way back from lunch with Ali.

Oh…and I saw gas for $2.05 at the 7-11 at 121 and Custer Road…git it while the gittin’s good!

I’m struggling to figure out what my problem is with Grey’s Anatomy this season - it’s either me, or it’s the show. Could be a little of both.

Since it premiered this season on Thursdays, I have had a difficult time - there were specific habits and “feelings” I had associated with the show previously. On Sunday nights, Grey’s was my Weekend Capstone Event. Generally by 9 on Sundays, whatever chores that need to be done are done…and I’ve settled into my end-of-weekend “relaxation” mode. When the show was over, so was my day - and the weekend. I’d pack everything up and turn in for the evening.

At 8 on Thursdays though, we’re still frantically switching back and forth between Grey’s, the end of Survivor, and My Name Is Earl and The Office during commercial breaks. There’s probably a load of laundry in the dryer, and I’m likely to still be griping about something that happened at work. Daisy’s probably squeaking her Beloved Cow, and the kitchen hasn’t been cleaned up, yet.

This didn’t usually happen on Sunday nights…guess that’s why they call it a day of rest…and I actually obeyed.

I was trying to also think back to see if I had been this affected by a TV show switching to any other night and realized - I’m having the same problem with The Amazing Race this year. First off, I forget it’s on Sunday nights at 7. When I did tune in last week to watch at the designated time, it wound up beginning 35 minutes late because of a late-running football game. Then, it spilled over into Desperate Housewives, and then my mother-in-law called…again, routine…all out of whack.

Or, maybe it’s the show and not me. Maybe I’m just really over McMuffin’s mourning and swirliness and twitchiness - and how some of the other plot points are playing out so far. There are still some genuinely funny lines, and I did like how Meredith basically told McVet and McAss (HEY! YOU’RE STILL MARRIED!) to quit measuring their packages, toss a little attention her direction and learn “how to put on a real date.” But, Callie really needs to quit with the exhibitionism. Really. I get she’s an ortho surgeon and probably loves to look at her body and the amazing thing which is the human skeleton, but…buy a robe.

This was one of my mom’s favorite blogthings from me…so without further ado…

Mmm…tasty!

(more…)

Guess what search terms I just found in our Google search box?

“how to cut baseboards”

I don’t know which I found more upsetting, the thought of manual labor this weekend, or the fact that my husband didn’t use Blingo for his search.

I was catching up on my blog reading, and stumbled across Flickr’s 365 Days Challenge over at Psychobabble.You’re supposed to take a self-portrait each day - for a year. Sounds like a good opportunity to force-feed a little creativity…and I’m all for that.

I won’t post a photo here every day, but I thought for the first day - ya’ll would like to see how the majority of my day is spent…sitting in front of my laptop, in my office.

Perplexed. Confused. Wondering how to virtually strangle people.  Daydreaming about what it will be like when it will finally be too cold to wear sleeveless shirts.

I’d read someplace that last night’s episode of Lost was supposed to answer all of our burning questions from the season finale. When I expressed this, about half a dozen times during the episode, CU mentioned perhaps I wasn’t asking the same questions “everyone else” (meaning Carlton Cuse and James Lindelof?) was asking and therefore, wasn’t getting any personal resolution.

So, here are my original questions:
1. Why did The Others specifically take Kate, Sawyer & Jack?
2. Where did Michael and Walt go?
3. Who died?

The answers to the questions I guess they wanted me to ask:
1. Yes, “Downtown” is the only CD anyone actually plays on the island.
2. Steven King is favorite author of The Others…whaddya expect?
3. You’ve got a sharp eye! That delightful frock Kate is wearing was in last August’s issuse of In Style magazine. Amazing what you can get with a fishing boat and a Commodore 64. After seeing that and French press coffee, CU is convinced they all really did crash-land on Oahu. It’ll take them two more seasons to meander over to the Turtle Bay Resort.
4. The new pick-up line amongst 30-somethings this season will be, “I’m a repo man/woman.” Try it - you’ll look mysterious.

We only have five more episodes before they go on a Prison Break-killing four-month hiatus, so let’s pick up the pace there, boys. I’m impatient. Out of sight, out of mind, you know.

dance instead of sway
sit here on my key lime ass
’til death do us part

paging doc susan
spine connected to brain
is that my cell phone?

nora needs a date
singles table, match is made
not jerry rollins

aunt edie’s nephew
that is what my ID says
you are not that hot

gaby’s blessed event
adjust camera color
oops, mistake, sorry